#and it's still Lanterns that's making me choke up

[chaotic-mystery]

Pairing: Ezra (pre movie) x afab!reader

Summary: You need more from Ezra, but how much more can you take?

Content Warnings: smut- 18+ ONLY! MDNI. dirty talk, p in v sex, slight f oral if you blink you'll miss it, breast play, use of rope, bondage explored a little, biting, choking, condescending Ezra, sloppy kithes, fingering, mulitple orgasms, overstimulation, crying but Ezra licks your tears up, animalistic undertones perhaps, thigh biting, mentions of your neck bleeding a little but don't panic, cream pie, cockwarming, degrading undertones, praise, pet names (good girl, gem, honey, sir) I think that's everything but tell me if I've missed one.

Authors Note: Hello, sluts! buckle up, this is my submission for @iamasaddie 's writing challenge! I got #24 - Overstim w Ezra. Now I'm gonna be so real, Ezra was fucking terrifying to write for. I love a good challenge though, so here we go! Hope you enjoy & make sure to read everyone else's work who participated! Quick shoutout to my beta's for helping with the looks and contents ( @pedgito & @beskarandblasters ) along with all my hens who held my hand through this. I love you. wc: 2kish dividers by the talented @saradika-graphics !

“Ezra please, c’mon I wanna play some more, please?” You begged, tugging his hand to come lay back down in the cot. 

He’d just finished fucking you and you needed more, you craved more. 

“Sweetheart, I need to sleep, we’ve got a tremendous trip ahead of us tomorrow.” 

You groaned aloud causing him to turn around with a raised eyebrow. Normally attitude wasn’t the first thing you gave to Ezra when you were in a particular mood, but considering how desperate you were for him and all the teasing he had done throughout the day, did he really think only one round was going to suffice?

“There something you need to say to me, little one?” Ezra stands up over the small bed, fingertips dancing over your slightly sweaty skin, trailing up your thigh just above your knee. 

Leaning up on your elbows, you look up at him through your eyelashes and bite your lip. “It’s just, you’ve done nothing but mess with me all day and touch me at the most inopportune times, how can I not want more from you? You drive me crazy.”

It would just be easy for you to dip his hand down and relieve yourself with his fingers inside you, but where was the fun in that? Though you two have explored using each other for your selfish needs, that wasn’t what you wanted from him, not this time. You wanted him to ravage you, to eat you alive and savor the last bite. 

“Tell me what you want, sweet girl. Perhaps I can find it in me to satisfy what you’re needing, but under my conditions.” 

The glimmer from the lantern hanging from the top of the tent catches his eye, showing you the true darkness coming over him. Like a lion looking at its lamb prey, Ezra licks his lips and kneels down beside you on the bed, fingers still dragging ever so slowly on your thigh. Every creak of the cot shifting under the weight of you two makes your breath catch. The anticipation was insufferable and Ezra knew it. He knew it was absolute torture for you to lay there in silence as he thought about his conditions he was going to share with you.

“I’ll indulge in this moment of weakness with you, but in return you will keep your angelic voice down to a low roar, almost as silent as the unknown out there in The Green. Whatever I choose to do is my concern, but feel free to relentlessly use your safe word as you see fit, yes?”

You nod in response which causes Ezra to tut at you. 

“It’s almost too easy to take away your power to speak but I need you to say the word. Say it.” Ezra demands in a low tone, right next to your ear before he licks a small section of your cheek. 

“Yes, I understand, sir.” That always got him alive and feral. Sir. His hand moves to the apex of your thighs and rubs slowly, toying with the aching clit under his fingertips. Your mouth falls agape and already you want to moan out his name like your personal hail mary but this was just the beginning. 

“Sit up for a second, sweetheart.” 

Ezra grabs your arm with his freehand and lifts you forward just enough to get you up and he slinks down behind you on the cot, his back resting against one of the support beams he just finished digging into the ground earlier today. Your skin sticks to his chest as he grabs your shoulders to guide you back down on him, his hand once more making his way between your thighs. 

“You are such a beautiful little thing when you squirm around in my arms like that, I must admit.You should really keep still though if you wish not to have your wrists tied to this beam behind me.” 

His fingers dance around your soaking wet clit, halting any moans you may have and causing them to die in your throat before he tells you you’re being too loud. The burning feeling started in your lower tummy once more and Ezra could feel you tense up, your hips beginning to roll against his touch. Taking note, it was as if a switch flipped and as soon as your eyes rolled back, his freehand comes up your side and pinches your nipple roughly as he bites your neck, layering kisses in between a few times. 

“F-fuck, Sir, please don’t stop-p. Oh m-yy-” You croak out and arch your back off of his chest as his index and middle finger dip into your entrance. A pleased hum erupts from Ezra as he pumps back and forth inside of you. 

“Yes, just like that, baby. Soak my fingers, come on. Atta girl.” His chanting in the crook of your neck was making your back arch deeper with euphoria, whimpering with every dip of his finger hitting your g-spot. 

Ezra was getting you to the edge a lot faster than you anticipated but you weren’t complaining. His fingers toy around your nipple before pinching it once more, your clit thumping against the pad of his finger just anxious to come. 

Your knees jerked to close shut as Ezra cooed in your ear to come for him but he wouldn’t allow them to meet in the middle, to let you take away his enjoyment watching you come unraveled. The smirk plastered over his mouth was loud and clear in his words, only making you want to tip over the edge more. 

“Ezra please, please right there, right-“ you shriek out before his calloused hand that was cupping your breast, comes up to your mouth and squeezes harshly. 

“That feel fulfilling enough to you, gem?” Ezra nibbles on your ear as he groans, making a mess of your cum and rubbing it all throughout your folds. 

“No, that would be fanatical of me to think so little of you, wouldn’t it? Of course you need more.”

Before you’re able to pull his hand away from your mouth, Ezra’s fingers dip inside you once more while his grip on your face loosens, only grab the back of your neck and turn your head towards him, resting along his collarbone comfortably. Crying out his name and begging him to grant you just a second to catch your breath, he squeezes your neck in response and kisses the side of your face messily. 

“No no no no, I believe you didn’t listen to me when I spoke about my conditions. I told you what was to come if you wanted this, and by golly, you did not hesitate to agree, do you recall? Or are you so fucked out of that pretty little mind?” He rasps out before tugging you tighter against him. 

He’d stolen every single last breath from you and any shot you had at speaking. Pussy throbbing, begging to get stuffed, you whine aloud and buck into his hand more. 

Ezra rips his hand away from your dripping hole and slips out from behind you, reaching in his bag for something while you rub your thighs trying to imitate a sliver of what he made you feel. 

Nothing came close to it. 

The frayed rope comes into your view and his devilish smile flashes quickly at you before he starts to tie your wrists together, then to the beam. Licking his lips when he sees how much you squirm and need him back, Ezra holds your face gently before moving to your throat, squeezing just enough to show you he’s there. 

“You are the best one yet, I give you that. Using every last bit of mighty force in that body to keep me happy.” He gets between your legs, sloppy wet kisses trailed down the valley of your breasts and abdomen until he got where you needed him again. The sting in your flesh from his teeth shoots your eyes open and down to him where he was content with nipping at your inner thighs before he really gets to the fun. 

After this you’d have enough anticipation to last a year, maybe more. The black sweaty locks tangle under your grasp on them, eliciting a guttural moan from Ezra. 

“You smell so sweet, you make it hard for a man such as myself to behave.” A flattened tongue presses against your clit and licks forward and back down, the vibration from his groan tickling you softly. 

“Especially when you request things of this nature from me.” 

“I- I need you inside me, Ezra please. Please, I'm begging.” 

He laughs against your clit and looks at you. 

“I know you are, gem, how pathetic, isn’t it?” 

Kneeling between your legs, Ezra grabs onto the tops of your thighs and yanks you closer, the rope tightening around your skin. That’ll probably bruise later, who cares. 

“Would you be a good girl for me and rub your pretty little clit for me, sweet girl? Can you do that for me? Oh wait- you can’t.”

Hearing the condescending tone in his words turns you on even more and with his rough hands squeezing your plush thighs, groaning with every thrust inside you, your mind was in another dimension. Toying with your clit while you try to whine out his name was a new favorite sight for him and he was definitely going to remember this later.

Yet, the fire burning in your tummy from earlier didn’t die down at all. Clawing at his tummy with your freehand, Ezra grunted your name and pounded into you harder. 

“Don’t tell me you’re about to come again. Take it, take it, take my cock so deep like I know you can. Be a good girl, come on.” 

His thumb meets your sensitive bud and rubs circles on your clit way faster than you would’ve. Writhing and gasping for air causes him to keep your legs spread as you once more come under his doing. 

“Again. Come on.” He demands and keeps running despite your squeaks you can’t barely get out. 

“What’s wrong, honey? Is that too much for your pretty little pussy? You can handle it, come on, one more.” 

The tears pricked the corners of your eyes and Ezra leans down, licking them up with your sweat as they drip down your cheek. The animalistic behavior that had taken over him was giving you butterflies in your stomach, maybe even the whole goddamn zoo. 

“I-I- Ez,-fuck-k-k-please-e!” You gasped out and squeezed the rope leading towards your wrists, hoping he’d cut them but that was a stupid thought. 

“Come on, gem. Scream as loud as you please if that’ll make you come harder on me, let me hear that pretty scream you have.” Ezra kisses your neck roughly and bites hard enough to break skin, tasting the metallic liquid on his tongue. 

Your muscles were starting to tighten and cramp up, your mind spinning and the words falling from your mouth before you could even think about them. 

“Just like that, you’re such a good girl for me. The way you squeeze around my cock like that- you’ll make a man go mad. Such pretty sight to watch my cock disappear in that beautiful p-“ 

Before he could grunt out the last of his words your eyes were squeezed shut and seeing stars on the insides of your eyelids. There was never a second you thought your pussy could thump has hard as it was in this moment. 

Ezra’s breath quickens as the squelching from your pussy was sending him over the edge along with your soft jolts from the orgasms hitting you still. 

In a quick moment he was filling you up to the brim with his cum, fucking it as deep as it could go inside you and collapsing on top of you, cock still inside you as he went soft. 

You must’ve been that way for a while before he reached up and untied you, kissing your breasts and nipples slowly. 

“Satisfied, gem?”

#pedro pascal #ezra prospect #prospect 2018 #pedro pascal characters #ezra x female reader #tw blood #tw degradation #tw overstim #pedro pascal character fanfic #little lady kinky may

[nomsfaultau]

I know I write heavy angst, but y'all are not ready for Lighting Lanterns to Bring You Home. I can't get through working on it without choking up, which says so much given I've only extremely rarely gotten physical sorrow symptoms from Fault or Mandatory Family Reunion.

#I haven't said anything abt it bc its gonna be a christmas present #but it started as the sweetest fluffiest dream istg #I think it's cause stuff like fault or mfr are angst with comedy/fluff elements #while aside from the first and last scene Lanterns is basically a greek tragedy #bro they just love each other so much #and it doesn't save them #y'all have no clue how dark the new phil centric/imposter au thing is going to get (idk no name yet) #and it's still Lanterns that's making me choke up #wild

[bhaalsbabe]

This bed has seen everything

Pairing: afab!Durge Reader x Enver Gortash

Label: nsfw

Word count: ~2k

Summary/warnings: MDNI, afab!durge, durge is a magic user, unprotected sex, piv, creampie, some biting on both sides (and both sides like it), choking (receiving), the glove stays on, Gortash is a simp for durge but what's new, Gorty is more dominant here

Author's note: long expected part two of This desk has seen everything. Please enjoy and let me know your thoughts <3

You need to focus or you'll get yourself killed. The Emperor's stern voice rumbled inside your head, the force of his mind pushing your urge back, enough for you to see clearer again. You were standing next to an open manhole. Looking around to figure out where you were, you noticed an undead beggar you ran into after entering the Lower City a day before. You sighed, rubbing your temples as you made your way back to the room you had acquired in Elfsong Tavern. As soon as you entered the main square, however, you were stopped by one of the steel watchers.

"Citizen, lord Gortash is looking for you. Please return to Wyrm's Rock Fortress immediately," its robotic voice said.

"And what if I don't return?" You asked, not in the mood to deal with both Gortash and this annoying piece of metal.

"Then you'll be escorted there against your will."

You frowned, thinking about your options quickly. You hated having to follow anyone's orders. At the same time, you weren't in a position where you could take out the entire city's guards, and while you could turn invisible to slip out of this steel watcher's grasp, you would have to show yourself eventually and be captured then.

"Fine, I'm going there right now. Happy?" Your voice was dripping with malice that totally went over the steel watcher's head. It continued standing there menacingly, watching you as you made your way out of the city again. You walked as slow as possible, wondering what awaited you.

Gortash wanted you. That much was evident. The surprising part was that you wanted him too. This man, who was ready to doom so many people for his god and hunger for power, who hurt Karlach so much and sold her to Zariel... You should hate him and be planning his assassination, putting a stop to all of this. Yet instead, you were thinking of how familiar his touch felt on your body, how it made your heart sing in a similar way as killing did. Even without the memories that would explain the reasons for it, you craved him, his brilliant mind and his reverent touch.

As you entered the fortress, you were greeted by the mechanical voice of the steel watcher, telling you that "lord Gortash is awaiting you in his chambers". Two guards, these made of actual flesh, then lead you to what you assumed were the doors to his chambers. You waited until they left before entering, your heart speeding up in anticipation.

The room was big and expensive looking. It screamed 'important person resides here'. Currently dimly lit through various hanging lanterns, you could still make out the prevalent colours, red and black, with occasional sprinkle of green. All the way back was a king sized bed with canopy, with its owner sitting on its edge.

"You gave me quite a scare back there. I thought you'd start a bloody rampage in the open." He chuckled but you noticed he sounded almost relieved as his eyes set on you. You felt a pull towards him, your feet leading you to the bed on their own.

"I warned you I'm not as in-control as you might think." You replied, stopping in front of him. The dark lighting of the room made him look more imposing and you had to admit, it suited him. Black was his colour. His smile widened as he caught you staring at him.

"Can't help yourself? I don't blame you~" You resisted the urge to roll your eyes, instead choosing to ask the question that's been burning in you.

"What exactly were we?" You winced at how unsure and vulnerable you sounded. Gone was your usual confidence. When it came to your past, you were lost and helpless and it scared you. Part of you berated yourself for showing a weakness to an enemy of such status as Gortash.

But he didn't take advantage of it. His eyes softened and his flirtatious smile changed into a melancholic one. You had a strong feeling not many people had seen this particular expression on him. He stood up, taking both of your hands into his while gazing into your eyes.

"Allies," one of his hands left yours to wrap around your waist and pull you against his lean body. You let him do it, intuitively putting your free hand around him too.

"Friends," he leaned close to you, his next word whispered to your ear as if it were the most precious secret.

"Lovers." You heard him take a deep breath, almost like he was taking in your scent, his hold on you tightening for a brief second before he pulled away, reluctantly letting you go and stepping back.

Hearing him actually say it made a bit of your doubt and guilt go away. Of course your body recognised your lover, even if your mind struggled. You weren't betraying your friends by wanting to be close to Gortash. How could they possibly blame you for wanting someone you used to love?... You could easily do more mental gymnastics to defend your following actions if necessary.

Your breathing quickened as you pushed him back, making him fall into the bed, before climbing over him. "Good. Now I don't feel so bad for wanting to fuck you."

His eyes widened as he took you in, looking up at you as if you were a god, a self-satisfied smile stretching over his face.

"Old habits die hard~" He said before using his strength to flip you over. "You should know your place, however," his voice was deeper, his clawed hand wrapping around your neck, making it harder to breathe. You glared at him in defiance, displeased that he'd dare to do this.

"Oh, are you imagining slicing me open now? Frying me with you spells?" His eyes and voice were laced with amusement. He put more pressure on your neck, the sharp claws digging into the soft skin of your neck. He leaned close to your face. "Good."

The moment your lips connected, he released his hold on your neck enough for you to be able to breathe better again. His other hand made it's way under your shirt, mapping your body to his memory again. He sighed contentedly, almost getting lost in the simple kiss-

And then you bit his lower lip, hard enough to draw blood and to make him recoil in shock. He pulled away, touching his bleeding lip gingerly before looking back at you. His eyes seemed to get impossibly dark as he watched you lick your lips, stained by his blood. His pants got more tight as you gave him a mad grin, one that used to be on your face so often before your disappearance.

"I didn't think you still had it in you," he chuckled, looking way too happy for someone who could've lost his lip.

"You seem to be enjoying the pain. Aren't you supposed to be a tyrannical sadist?" You teased him, dropping your gaze at his quite visible bulge before looking back at him.

"Oh I can be, trust me, dear. You're just too special." He got near your face again, scanning over your features with his eyes. You could see the imperfections on his skin in return - the soft wrinkles around his eyes, the laugh lines, the scar on his chin - and as you shared this moment, you truly felt special.

You started kissing each other once again, more passionately and ferociously, both of you needing to feel, touch, taste each other. Gortash pressed his clothed erection against your core and you moaned into the kiss, your legs wrapping around his body to pull him closer, to stimulate the spot that was crying for attention. All of a sudden, none of you had the power to continue your playful banter. You needed him, and he needed you.

He started undressing you, his nimble fingers making quick work of your clothes and he didn't even have to stop kissing you for a moment. His hands kept exploring your body, squeezing in all the right places. He knew your body well.

His mouth left yours to kiss your jawline and continue lower, to your neck, your clavicle, and even lower, to give some welcome attention to your nipple. As he sucked on that piece of flesh, one of his hands started its journey over your inner thigh all the way to your cunt. He only dragged his finger through your folds, spreading your slick, and your hips buckled.

"Fuck... Enver, just fuck me already," you panted, your chest heaving heavily, your nails digging into his shoulders. He left your nipple with a 'pop', his dark eyes drinking in the sight of you before him, all desperate and needy, although he wasn't doing much better and you uttering his name didn't help.

"As you wish, my dear," he mumbled, removing his pants and underwear hastily. He didn't bother with prepping you, knowing you enjoyed the sting of his cock splitting you open and so he inserted his dick in you in one fell swoop. You tensed up, unused to this kind of pain, trying to hold back any sounds of discomfort. Gortash noticed it, kissing you softly on the lips, before whispering into your ear:

"You're doing great, my love, just relax." His fingers started playing with your clit, mixing the pain with pleasure and soon you were urging him to move again. He didn't need to be told twice, his hips pistoning into yours immediately after getting your permission.

He was thick, making the muscles in your vagina strain as they tried to accommodate his girth. It helped that you were embarrassingly wet, the squelch audible every time his dick moved in and out of you. Gortash buried his head in your neck, letting out whimpers that made you feel less humiliated about the noises you made.

"Ah, I've missed this. I've missed you. Thought I'd never see you again..." he mumbled into your neck, his breath hot against it. He cradled you close, as if you could slip between his fingers at any moment, his hips picking up speed. He wanted to enjoy this more, he truly did, but he was desperate to state his claim on you again, make you his once more. He made sure to rub circles into your clit in an effort to bring you to climax along with him. You were so responsive to his touch, like the first time you gave yourself to him, and he wanted to make sure you'll come back for more.

His clawed hand that held you close kept leaving bleeding scratches behind that you didn't mind at all, not when everything in this moment made you feel so alive. You thought killing felt great but this was actually better than that. He then bit your neck, groaning at the same time, his hips stilling, and you felt a warm sensation in you as he filled you with cum. With the continuous stimulation in and around your cunt, along with the small bits of pain he brought you, you followed him over the edge soon after, a silent prayer of his name on your lips.

You were both breathing heavily, still wrapped in each other as you tried to recover a bit of lucidity. Gortash finally pulled out, making his sperm spill out of you onto the expensive bedsheets but he couldn't care less. He laid next to you, pulling you against his chest, and he kissed your head sweetly. It felt unreal, that a supposed tyrant like him had the capacity to be so gentle, to an enemy no less, and yet here you were.

Well, let's just say you're heavily considering your alliance now.

#after dark #bg3 x reader #gortash smut #bg3 enver gortash #bg3 gortash #bg3 smut #enver gortash x reader #gortash x dark urge #gortash x reader #durge x gortash #gortash x durge #dark urge x gortash #durgetash

[urmomspersonalwhore]

Sweet Tooth

MINORS DNI

-Navia/Reader, NSFW, Fingering, Cunnilingus, Mention of a strap, overstimulation

“I wonder, do you taste sweet?”

You've been seeing the blonde for a while now.

She constantly flirts with you and even caresses you whenever she's nearby.

Sometimes she’d treat you and take you out for dinner or to her home.

Today, was one of those days. She brought you some snacks like macaroons, as you two relaxed together. Her eyes never left yours while she sat next to you, even feeding you from time to time.

You adjusted yourself, moving the sheets to cover you more

She snuggled closer to you, hugging your waist. A small giggle emitted from her as she trailed her hands down.

You raised a brow, though tried not to think much of it. It deemed impossible as she snuck her hand under your [Pants/shorts]

“Navia!” You called out, you didn't want the cuddling and love-dovey moment to end just yet.

“What” she purred, teasingly rubbing circles on your clit. Though you wanted the cute time to last more, you couldn't complain about the way she was touching you.

You averted your eyes away, letting her do whatever.

So she pulled your underwear to the side and looked at you, waiting for your permission. It was your first time with her, so you two were a bit hesitant.

You nodded, and she slowly inserted a slim finger in you. It slowly slid in your wet walls, soon after it started to slip out then pushed back in. It was a repeated motion, though very slow and gentle until she positioned herself on top of you. She pulled the sheets off, along with your [Pants/shorts] and underwear.

Your face flushed, looking away. Navia grabbed your face redirecting you to stare at her.

“Eyes on me, dear” She smiled.

You nodded, and she moved below to position her mouth in front of your cunt. Her warm breath was felt from the sensitive part.

She stared at the slick-covered pussy before mumbling, almost talking to herself from how low it was.

“I wonder, do you taste sweet?”

The blonde then licked a stride, making you groan. She gave you more kitty licks before sucking on the bundle of nerves, moans emitting from your throat.

She hummed at your taste, soon her fingers prodding at your entrance.

As her tongue slipped inside your tight walls, her fingers followed.

Both thrusting in a slow pace before gradually building up. The sound of squelching and moaning bouncing off the walls. She practically destroyed your pretty cunt, the sheets below you covered in your slick as she was rougher than when she started. Her fingers stuttered in you, tongue dancing along your slit.

Your hands intertwined in Navia’s golden locks, slightly pulling as you felt a knot in your stomach.

“..’M close!” You managed to choke

She sucked on your clit, bringing you to ecstasy and came all over her face.

The blonde removed herself, licking any remnants of your cum. She smiled at you before going back between your thighs, her arms wrapping around them as she only inserted her muscle this time.

Pumping the thick tongue into you, not even beginning with a gentle pace and went straight in your sensitive pussy.

You squirmed around but she kept a grip on you, looking at your fucked expression whilst she railed you.

She had you cumming hard, staining the sheets. Navia got back up, still having that large grin on her face, “Would be better if you were bouncing on my strap, hm?”

NOTE

@sea-lanterns I have another that will be fluff!

©urmomspersonalwhore — please do not copy, repost or translate onto any other platforms without my permission.

#genshin impact #genshin imagines #genshin x reader #genshin x you #lesbian #genshin fanfic #genshin smut #genshin navia #navia x reader #navia #navia smut #navia genshin #navia ​genshin impact #genshin impact navia

[silkjade]

alhaitham x mermaid! reader (4)

⤀ warnings: fem!reader, no pronouns mentioned, reader has hair long enough to be pinned, a bit of angst but ends w fluff — ꒰ 3.9k wc ꒱ a/n: recommended to read the previous parts first, since this is a direct continuation. this ended up being way longer than intended lol next ﾉ series masterlist ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𓇼

There are few things considered perfect, but this night spent among the treetops of sumeru city, certainly comes close. The cool breeze is a welcomed remedy for a day spent under the sun, and below, the warm glow of the city’s lanterns illuminate the street, alive and effervescent in the serenity of the night. 

“I’ve never been so high up,” you muse, carelessly throwing a smile at alhaitham who stands a little ways behind you, leaning against a pillar. 

Admittedly, razan garden isn’t very high up at all, but he bites back a smart remark, not realizing how his eyes soften as he watches you take in the sights with wonder. You’re radiant even under the low glow of the fireflies, and between the leaves and the padisarahs, even he can’t help but think you’ve walked right out of a children's storybook. 

“I can do you one better,” he offers, jutting his chin upwards, higher up the divine tree. 

Your eyes follow, but your voice wavers in your reply and you hesitate to take his outstretched hand. For one who normally dwells so deep beneath the sea, you think you’re already plenty high up the ground. Alhaitham easily reads into your reluctance, but with time, you too have learned to read the marginal variations in his expressions. 

That tiny curve to his lips and the slight dip in his brow—he teases you when he says, “I promise to catch you if you fall.” But his eyes soften just a fraction, and you know his words are genuine.

“Well you shouldn’t let me fall in the first place,” you shoot back, ignoring the way he rolls his eyes, and taking his hand regardless.

“Hold onto me,” he says simply, and your breath hitches in surprise as he wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest; a stark reminder that he is indeed not a feeble scholar at all. You scramble to hold on, but within the next second you feel yourself flying through the air, clinging on to this vision wielder for dear life. 

Alhaitham rationalizes that such an exceptionally rare visitor warrants an equally exceptional attraction—even if it’s only so that he might chance to see the way your eyes sparkle with delight. And it certainly doesn’t help that he quite enjoys the feel of you latching onto him, but he files the thought away for another time.

“You can open your eyes now.” 

When you’re sure your feet are planted on solid ground, you loosen your grip, untangling your limbs from his. 

“Next time, a warning would be nice.” 

“And where would be the fun in that?” he smirks.

Nestled among the thick branches of the divine tree, is his personal haven: hidden far from prying eyes, and high enough to drown out the noises of the city. He supposes that an overarching view of the surrounding forests is an added plus as well.

“I often come here to be alone. It’s peaceful.”

“And it’s got quite the view. I’ve never seen anything like it.” You keep your tone hushed, as if it might somehow shatter the tranquility.

This place… it’s new and fascinating, just like everything else you’ve experienced since meeting alhaitham. Before you, vast forests spread as far as your eye can see, and below you, the vantage point makes it easy to people-watch. 

Despite the nearly two weeks you’ve spent here on land, you still find humans so interesting. Maybe not humans specifically, but the workings of human intimacy are… certainly noteworthy. As you peer over the tangle of leaves and branches, a young couple embraces under a streetlamp. You sneak a glance at alhaitham beside you.

“The city talks about us often. They think we’re lovers.” 

He clears his throat, hoping to catch his choked breath and rid himself of the faint blush that speckles his cheeks; he’s long foresaw this as one possible outcome of your relationship, but he hadn’t expected, much less intended, for your words to still affect him as much as it does. He’s well aware of the rumors and ignores them as he always does, but he wonders what sparked the topic—it’s not a conversation he hopes to delve into. 

Following your line of sight, he too sees the couple below. “Well we’re clearly not, so no need to entertain idle gossip.” 

"Would it be so terrible though if we were…?" It slips out before you even get the chance to reel yourself back in.  

Lovers. The word tastes bittersweet on his tongue. Alhaitham keeps his heart lidded so that frivolous wishes cannot compromise his mind, but just the term itself is able to bring his emotions to a boil, threatening to spill over what he’s so carefully shoved down.

“I don't really see the point in dwelling on hypothetical situations.”

“You’re avoiding the question.” For a second, your brows knit together in worry. “Are you not attracted to me anymore?” Were humans so fickle that even after a night of– 

"It’s not that,” he interrupts quickly, eyes raking you up and down as he turns to face you, the tips of his ears flushed pink as he attempts to fix his composure. 

“And no, it wouldn’t be terrible at all but… it’d be highly irrational,” he pauses to gauge your reaction; a wrinkle in your brow paints your state of perplexity. “What kind of chance would we have under these circumstances? It’d only end in disappointment."

“What if it doesn’t?” There’s a sliver of hope that dances in your eyes, and it aches for him to accept that such are the unfortunate circumstances in which he finally experiences the longstanding debate between the head and the heart. 

Making the rational choice is easy when he has little to no emotional investment in the matter, but even the brilliance of his mind dulls to the way you puppet him like a marionette, tugging at every one of his heartstrings and bending him to your will. A daring voice in his head urges him to just take the risk and deal with any future repercussions when they come, to just take the leap and let himself freely love you as he so desires. 

But the grand scribe—famously aloof, cold, rational—sees the truth for what it is.

“The odds are heavily stacked against us. By the sheer law of probability, it could never work.”

To use a word as definitive as never, he’s not entirely sure who he’s trying to convince: you or himself. Regardless, he believes it'd be easier to just rip the bandage off. It would sting now, but it'd save a world of hurt for the both of you in the long run.

"And probability in itself is only a strong likelihood," you argue, before your voice falls into a quiet waver. "Are we… not even worth the chance?" 

Alhaitham knows the definition of probability, knows that nothing is absolute, save for your obvious physiological differences. It's a calculated risk—one he doesn't believe to be worth taking, especially when pursuing you romantically would bring more than its fair share of obstacles. Inevitable obstacles that would no doubt grow more apparent in the face of these foolish fantasies. Perhaps this makes him a coward, but it’s better than to raise false hopes. He too has a heart to hurt.

"I'm sorry." 

It’s easy to miss the way his eyes are more honest than his words, when your cheeks are burning and your heart is sinking. ‘Shameless mermaid,’ he had once said, so perhaps there is a lesson to learn in the human notions of shame and regret and heartache. 

The following morning doesn’t fare much better. In the aftermath of the night’s events, you couldn’t bare, hadn’t wanted to bare, the sight of your tail in that saltwater bath. Yet despite the fact that you distinctly remember falling asleep on the living room divan, you wake up in the familiar comfort of his bed. If he were more cruel, perhaps your heart would hurt less.

You sit up as the sound of his roommate’s muffled voice seeps through the walls, followed by the heavy thud of what you can only assume to be the front door. ‘For the sake of the akademiya, I hope you work out whatever lovers’ quarrel you have going on.’ You wince at kaveh’s words, but the bedroom door creaks, jerking you from your thoughts, and opening to reveal none other than alhaitham himself. 

“I…,” he hadn’t wished to disturb your slumber, but now his mouth runs dry trying to come up with something to say, other than a pathetic ‘sorry.’ For once, he’s at a loss for words, so he grabs his keys and retreats back out to the hallway.  

You wait until you hear the front door click before flopping back into the pillows. While your kind doesn’t particularly revere the archons of teyvat, you nevertheless thank lesser lord kusanali simply for the fact that alhaitham returns to work today, leaving you with the freedom to roam the city. It’ll be a good chance to clear your head. 

The air has been suffocatingly thick as of late, and even the sun seems to mock you, beating down hot and shining brighter than ever in your misery. It’s fair to say you don’t make it very far before growing increasingly fatigued, legs beginning to buckle as you walk. 

Beneath the shade of a brightwood tree, you try to recall the amount of days you’ve spent on land. Under normal circumstances, your human body would have given out after a week, but the saltwater baths in alhaitham’s tub have about doubled your time on land. 

Perhaps it’s good that all things must come to an end. While you can’t force him to love you, you can try to salvage whatever might be left of this relationship. Alhaitham… seemed to be faring fine. It’s you who should swallow your feelings, so for now, distance may just be the best step forward. 

All rivers flow to the ocean, and while it’s too conspicuous to swim there in broad daylight—you scout the banks of yazadaha pool until you spot a few eremite mercenaries lounging around a small boat—you could definitely charter a ride. 

“Please take me to the port.”

A gruff man crosses his arms. “You got the mora?”

Not a single one. In the time you’ve spent on land, alhaitham had readily purchased everything to your frivolous delight. You entertain the thought of talking your way into a free charter, though considering the circumstances, you’re not sure how much allure your voice can draw in this form. 

“That’s a nice hairpin you’ve got though. Must be worth a pretty price.” Tensing, you frown as your hand flies to clutch the emerald pin sitting in your hair.

No. You couldn’t possibly give up something you so cherish. It was a gift from alhaitham; one you hadn’t asked for, but was instead given to you of his own accord. It was… consolation for reading over some random akademiya papers, you remember.

Your arm falls limp as you tug the piece from your hair. Perhaps now you realize that everything he felt for you was only worth the weight of this pin. Still, it’s difficult to control the tremble in your hands as you toss the ornament to the nearest mercenary.

With one last glance towards the akademiya, you wonder if he’d miss you in your absence, but you know alhaitham, and you know he values simplicity and comfort in his daily life—he’d breathe easier without the strained air. 

As the sun begins to dip below the horizon, Alhaitham stalks towards the tavern. Others at the akademiya might describe him as difficult to work with today—even more so than usual. And maybe it would be hypocritical of him, considering all the times he’s scolded kaveh, but his back aches from a night spent on the divan, and his mind is unfocused, filled only with thoughts of you. It wasn’t right how he had left things with you, and despite his mask of apathy, it eats away at his insides. He needed a drink. 

Just as he reaches for the doors, a sunray hits just right, sending a beam of refracted light into his eyes. He winces, passing an irritated glare to the source, before his eyes widen, freezing in his tracks. His stomach churns as he marches toward the group of eremites gathered at a table.

One of them twirls a hairpin in his hands—brilliant and gold, decorated with emerald gems. He demands to know its origins, and when he learns you had traded it for a ride to port ormos, he grits his teeth.

Knowing you, and based on past experience, he had expected you’d do the utmost to avoid him, but he had grossly underestimated how much his chest would ache in your absence, or how it terrifies his heart that he may lose you, should you choose to disappear forever. He must find you, but first...

“Name your price.”

The cold seawater is quite literally a breath of fresh air, revitalizing you in a way the sun and earth never could. Your head clears and your senses are sharpened, leaving much room for introspection as you sink down onto the ocean floor.

The heavy silence is a far cry from the liveliness you’ve grown accustomed to. Beneath the waves, the stars don’t shine and the moon's brilliant glow is scattered and diffused until it's dim and unrecognizable. It ripples with the water—distorted—like your perception. 

'Clearly not lovers.' The words replay again and again in your mind. You've seen the way couples in sumeru city behaved, and based on your observations, you hadn’t thought the two of you were much different. 

He had given you gifts, large and small, sheltered you in his own home, protected you when you were most vulnerable. You've kissed and you've lain together and he had whispered sweet words that called you his. It was a wonderful dream, painted in saccharine colors, but a dream nonetheless it seems. You are not who he wants. You’re not even what he wants. You are a mermaid.

'It could never work.' He’s given you every reason to believe there might be something more but deep down, you know he’s probably right. The word human has never felt more jarring, as it seems human intimacy is named as such, precisely because it's where the line is drawn. You spare a melancholy glance at your magnificent tail, but it has never looked more ordinary.

Overhead, a shadow blocks out the watery beams of the moon before a splash breaks the surface and a chunk of crystal ore sinks under the waves. After some time, another follows, and then another—too many to be a mere coincidence.

Every bone in your body screams to leave him be, that no, you shouldn’t come at his beck and call, especially if you hope to nurse your wounded heart. Still, a part of you is elated that he's come to chase after you, and against your better judgment, you swim up, just shy of the surface, hidden by the darkness of night. As long as you didn’t reveal yourself, although… maybe if he begs, you think.

Unfortunately, alhaitham has studied the water enough times to recognize the subtle movements that give you away. He peers closer, still only barely catching a faint flicker of light—the brilliant gleam of your tail. When you don’t surface, he takes to more drastic measures, hoping you’d forgive him for more than just the bait.  

“If you really didn’t want to see me, you wouldn’t still be hanging around here.”

You scoff, slightly offended by his baseless assumption, yet irritated at the fact that he’s not particularly wrong either. 

“Please, this has been my cove long since before you showed up.” Pulling yourself onto the nearby rocks, you sit opposite him, tail still swishing in vex beneath the surface. With your cover blown, you might as well indulge in your curiosity. “Why are you here.” 

Between the moon and the sea, the pale light glows like a halo around you, like a figment of his dreams—ethereal and out of reach. But what matters now, is that you’re here, and real, and should you let him, he doesn’t intend to let you go again. 

“These are for you,” he states simply, a bouquet of padisarahs in hand. You frown. He brings you flowers as you’ve seen lovers do, but you are clearly not lovers. Your heart can weather the storm of his rejection, but if he’s here to toy with you… then he must have forgotten who is vulnerable in these waters.  

“With the way things ended, the thought that I might never see you again…” 

As his voice trails off, his mask slips just a little, and you wonder if he can recognize the casual cruelty of his words. The dichotomy of being more than friends, yet less than lovers, how he does not wish to lose you, and yet he does not want you. If he was merciful, he’d let you go. Your eyes shift to the waters—it’d be easy to just dive in and disappear beneath the depths, spare yourself the humiliation of whatever might come next, but his gentle grasp on your arm begs you not to go.

"So give me a reason to stay."

“Because I want you to,” he whispers, but you shake your head.

"It's not enough." 

He tries again. "Because I want you."

The air hangs heavy above your heads, the tension like a bow drawn taut. The silence seems to tick for forever before you finally respond, guarded.

“Why the change of heart.”

Alhaitham swallows, his kaleidoscope eyes boring into yours. “There was never anything to change.”

He’s always been apt with his words, but there's a twinge of fear and hurt and desperation in his voice that undermines his normally confident tone. It shakes your resolve to keep him at arm's length but if what he says is true, if there's an underlying message woven between the lines… then perhaps it’s worth the risk to lay bare before him once again.

“And how do you want me?” Your movements are hesitant when your hand smoothes over his cheek, but he relaxes under your touch—turning his face into your palm and letting out a breath as if soothed by your acknowledgment. "Because I want to be yours, haitham. I love-”

"Not like this," he interrupts. Gingerly, he wraps his fingers around your wrists, guiding your hands back down until his face is left cold without your touch, but he never lets go: not when your shoulders sink and your bottom lip trembles, and certainly not as he laces his fingers through yours.

If nothing else, he must remain sensible. Even if he's to make the most irrational decision in the world, he should at least do it right. 

"I want a life that suits the both of us," he starts. You refuse to meet his gaze, waiting for the inevitable but. But it’s impossible. But it’s irrational.

But it never comes.

“Make another deal with me,” he continues as your brows furrow and confusion clouds your eyes. “Wait for me, and I’ll find a way.”

“You’re very confident for someone who doesn’t know if such a solution even exists.”

A love that hangs on the promise of another deal; how fitting for the two of you whose relationship had flourished on the merit of exchanging knowledge. But he’s confident in his abilities as a researcher and a scholar. 

“Sumeru is the epicenter of knowledge. Our deserts hide many mysteries, even to this day.” 

"And if one day I decide I’m tired of waiting…?" you ask, even though he’s promised to return, and you’ve long decided you’d wait.

“Then I’d come and find you so that my efforts aren’t wasted.” 

“It’d be a waste of effort anyway if you can’t even make it through the currents. And the sea is quite vast, you know.” 

You don’t know what point you’re trying to prove by arguing during an already fragile moment. Maybe it’s a subconscious countermeasure, a last line of defense against your traitor heart, but this back and forth with him shouldn’t come so easily.

“Then I can only pray that a beautiful mermaid might come and save me,” he murmurs, lightly squeezing your hand. “my beautiful mermaid.”

Your eyes follow as he brings your still-interlocked fingers to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles before glancing up from beneath the pieces of his fringe, "Do you trust me?" 

It’s almost difficult to breathe with the way your heart pounds in your chest. Do you trust him enough to take this chance on such a near impossible task? Do you trust him as he calls you his, outside of the realm of pleasure and of his own volition… 

You answer him in the same way he did, when you had asked the same of him not so long ago. Your hand once again reaches up to cup his face, this time bringing him in for a kiss, soft and tender, filled with the whispers of a promise.

His lips curve up just the slightest, the beginning of a sly grin breaking across his face. “I don’t think I got all of that just yet. Care to elaborate your answer?”

And so you kiss him again, the ebb and flow of your lips as smooth as the tides, with your arms draped over his neck, and his hands clasped around your waist, bringing you ever closer. It’s decadent and asphyxiating, you almost don’t care if you were to drown in this fit of passion. 

“I do have feelings for you,” he murmurs, before finally breaking away for air. His chest heaves, but your face is only inches from his and he fights the urge to kiss you senseless again. “Just give me some time, and we can be together for real.”

Alhaitham turns to sift through his belt pouch and once again presents you with a hairpin—delicate and ornate, inlaid with nagadus emeralds. “I couldn’t stand to see it in someone else’s possession.” 

“And why’s that?” You coax, deceitfully coy as you peek up from underneath your lashes, biting back a grin whilst tracing the gem on his chest, one that happens to shine in the same verdant shade of green. It’s a bit silly, but you want to hear him say it again. 

Alhaitham rolls his eyes with a huff of exasperation, although the mirth in his eyes says otherwise. Sometimes you are ridiculously easy to read. 

“Because it’s yours.” A small peck lands on your forehead. “And because the whole of sumeru should know you’re mine,” he finishes with a light kiss to your lips.  

Your head falls to rest against his chest, picking out his heartbeat amongst the sound of the waves. You feel warm despite how the cool ocean air prickles against your wet skin. You’d be happy to let this moment last forever, but ingenuity is a virtue in the nation of wisdom—what is done completes what is thought—and you trust that alhaitham will keep his word, so you guide his fingers, curling them into a fist around the little ornament.

“It'd only get tarnished underwater so... keep it safe for me until you return. Deal?”

Alhaitham catches your lips again, grinning into the kiss. “Deal.”

next

a/n2: i rewrote this SO many times cus i was unsatisfied with it, so i hope you enjoyed :'D it was honestly kind of hard not weaving in anything from the bonus smutfic but also keeping it kinda coherent LOL but if u read that, there was like 1 ref that i thought was fun 'n i hope u caught it (๑>؂•̀๑) ANYWAYS we are almost at the end as the next part will be the last 'n it'll be a little epilogue ! as always, thank u so much for reading + reblogs/feedback are always vry much appreciated ♡

© silkjade — do not steal, plagiarize, translate or repost any content onto any other platform

#— 𝓼𝓲𝓰𝓷𝓮𝓭 𝓙. ༯ #alhaitham x reader #genshin x reader #al haitham x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin fluff #genshin impact fluff #alhaitham fluff #genshin angst #alhaitham angst #genshin fanfic #genshin impact fanfics #genshin impact x you #genshin x you #genshin drabbles #genshin impact drabbles #alhaitham x you #alhaitham x reader fluff #genshin alhaitham #mermaid au #mermaid!reader #𓇼 — 𝓼𝓲𝓵𝓴𝓳𝓪𝓭𝓮'𝓼 𝓶𝓮𝓻𝓶𝓪𝓲𝓭 𝓪𝓾

[hijackalx]

PRICE OF WIT +18

(tumblr vers.)

SUMMARY: Astarion can be so mean sometimes, but he swears he can make it up to you.

WORD COUNT: 1788

UNDER THE CUT: F!Reader, dom!astarion, VERY sub reader, make-up sex (kinda?), YALL ARE TOXIC AF TOGETHER, mean!astarion, possessive!astarion, praise, choking, biting, sadism and masochism, small mention of gale being a pervert lol

A/N: reworked this to be in second person, and also edited it since the AO3 version did not get that kind of love 💀 some lines/paragraphs have been changed. also this was originally written with act I/act II astarion in mind but i guess it works for ascended astarion too.

"NO! LET ME GO!"

Intelligent with a silver tongue to boot, Astarion can work his way through and into almost any circumstances he desires.

"I HATE YOU!"

A quick way out of a sticky situation? Got it. A smooth approach into a pleasurable one? No doubt. The world is his for the taking.

"I HATE YOU!"

Except for when it's not.

Sometimes his mouth moves faster than his brain. He occasionally says something a little too harsh, a little too cold— ice cold, and it doesn't matter how much or how little he means it, it still hurts.

Wit has a price, it seems.

You claw and shriek in his grasp. You didn't get far before he managed to wrap his arms around you and stop you from disappearing to who knows where. He winces as your fingernails dig into the skin of his forearms. He succeeds in grabbing your wrists and folding them against your body, trapping you against his chest.

"You're acting like a child!" He shouts through an exhausted growl as you continue to resist his hold.

He knows what he said was wrong— it was a snarky slip of the tongue. But you stormed off before he could apologize, so who's really the problem here?

The fire glows and crackles in the crisp night air, accompanied by Gale and Karlach, whose meals have been so rudely interrupted by your shrill screams. Although, they watch the tussle unfazed. This wouldn't be the first time you and him have had a peace-disrupting argument.

"They're the most immature people I've ever met," Karlach takes a bite of her turkey leg, her tone more irritated than anything. "No good for each other, those two."

Gale watches how you kick up dust and dirt just outside of Astarion's tent. He'd only heard pieces of what led to this as you spoke behind the fabric; some kind of complaint by Astarion that has clearly been taken to heart. Sighing, he meets Karlach's eyes, their shared gaze molding into apprehensive weariness.

"Well," he mutters into a lamb chop, "looks like we're in for another sleepless night."

"I love you, I love you, I love you—" your softly whimpered phrase is the only sound to be heard after the camp has settled in their bedrolls for the night.

All Astarion had to do was guide you back into his tent and successfully lay you down. After that, you were more willing to hear him out.

Your bodies are bathed in the gentle lantern light, your back pressed firmly to his bedding and your legs wrapped around his waist. He intertwines your fingers as he steadies your hands above your head. Soft, white locks tickle your cheek as he nuzzles into your neck, his teeth teasing at the skin every so often.

His pace is rhythmical but rough, his hips flush between your legs as he aims for your cervix— his favorite spot. He loves the way you writhe and try to push him away while pleading for more. The way your heels press into his back, how your voice breaks while you call out for him.

"I've got you, sweetheart," his exhales are hot against your skin.

His hand slips down to pinch your side after hearing you stifle a moan, a quick but effective reprimand. You squeak at how he cruelly twists the flesh, your abdomen tensing.

"Don't hold back," he scolds, and you catch how his brows lower in the corner of your eye. Your modesty has offended him.

You screw your eyes shut, mustering up the ability to speak clearly. "T-they'll hear," you blurt out. It's only fair to be considerate to your fellow party members— or at least try to.

Your response makes him laugh, and this time you're the one scrunching your brows. You don't understand what's so amusing until he says, "You wouldn't want to deprive Gale of his own pleasures, would you?"

You go entirely rigid, your face dropping slightly at how sure he sounds.

Questionably, he sits up to examine you, immediately noticing your change in expression. "What?" He asks. "Don't tell me you didn't know?"

Eyes wide and cheeks flushed a deep red, you stare up at him speechlessly. What he's implying is that... gale has been... touching himself while you and him are together?

How perverse.

He coos, squeezing your cheek and giving it a shake. "You're so cute." His condescending tone doesn't make you want to smack him in the face, strangely enough. In fact, you think you might like it judging by the way your stomach turns.

You take a moment to recover from the thought of your private acts not being so private. Noticing this, he balances his hands on the ground beside you, then pulls out before fully sheathing himself again with a fast, hard thrust. Your body jolts like it's been injured, and you can't hold back your yelp. His features are nothing short of devilish upon hearing the sound.

Sometimes he likes to be mean— but sometimes you like to let him.

"I quite like... the idea... actually," he says through breaths while he fucks you, his half-lidded gaze watching how your tits bounce. Leaning down, he begins to leave a trail of bite marks over your chest, each one he soothes with a gentle kiss as if to say 'sorry'. "Imagining Gale all alone—" another bite, another kiss. "—Wishing he were half as lucky as me."

He groans as your hands twitch and grip at his hair. Your back arches off the ground, and he runs a slightly calloused palm over the newly exposed area, tracing the curve of your body.

"Astarion," you say so weakly, so needy. He can't help letting a moan slip at how his name sounds coming from your mouth.

You're close, he can feel it. It's the way you tremble, the way you can't get close enough to him— wanting him deeper, harder, more, more— You're a greedy little thing, but he adores it. He adores you. How couldn't he give you anything and everything you want?

He sits up, his lustful stare heavy and thick as he peers down his nose at you.

You lift your chin as his hand wraps around your neck, allowing him all the access he wants. He begins to squeeze, your smaller fingers prying at his grip.

"You're mine," he watches intently as you squirm under his unwavering stare, his face still and emotionless. "Say it to me."

"I'm yours," you say readily, feeling your heart skip a beat when the corners of his mouth almost split into a proud grin.

"Tell me you won't try to run away again." His hold tightens.

"I-I won't. I won't leave you," you choke out. That's what you told him last time and the time before that. Just as your head begins to feel light and your eyelids heavy, your body buzzes and jerks with an orgasm.

He releases you so he can watch your full reaction; how you writhe and reach for him, how the hands scraping at his chest plead to close the distance between your bodies.

Tears slip down the corners of your eyes— maybe from pleasure, maybe not. He could hold you, but something inside tells him no. It's almost as if to serve as punishment for trying to run off.

Believe him, he doesn't want to punish his baby. But sometimes it's necessary.

Once your high dies down and you're left a heaving, exhausted mess, he grabs one of your limp hands and leaves a kiss on each fingertip. "Ooh," his thumb rubs your palm. "That was a good one."

You know very well that you're not finished. Luckily, he's kind enough to get you off first, even when he's upset with you. He's considerate where it counts, of course.

Or maybe he loves how much he can undo you with a second orgasm.

He caresses your face while you catch your breath. You lean into his touch, almost petting yourself. His undead palm is cold yet gentle, and you somehow find comfort in it. Your eyelids flutter closed.

"You're doing so good for me," he praises softly, his tone no louder than a murmur. "You can go a bit longer, can't you?"

He speaks tenderly and sweet, making your pulse beat even faster. "For me, darling?" He asks as if it's even a question— as if he doesn't know the answer.

Your body aches, worn and tired, yet you nod with eagerness. Anything, you think in your euphoric, fucked-out daze, anything for you.

There are times when you can't stand him, when he's the worst person in the world— but those only emphasize the times when he's the only person in the world; times when he makes you feel warm and loved, and so, so good.

Like when he nears his own orgasm and wraps his arms around you so tight, so close. He holds you like you're the dearest thing he's ever had, your skin pressed together like you're afraid to part.

And he fucks you so good you'll forget the nasty things he says and does, if only until the next time. For now, the way his breaths shake and his muscles contract in yearning— in need, is distracting enough.

"Fuck—" a word you'll rarely, if ever, hear him say. Too vulgar for his tastes, except for when he loses his ability to keep his composure. "Fuck," he hisses again as he thrusts into you, almost hard enough to lift your hips from the ground.

Before you know it, his teeth are sinking deep into the flesh of your neck. You gasp loudly, tangling your fingers in his curls. He stifles his moans by lapping up the crimson leaking from your puncture wounds, finishing inside you simultaneously.

Between the sounds of him reaching his climax and the bite, it's enough to push you over the edge a second time. Extra sensitive, your body reacts more violently than before. Your nails claw and tear at his back, leaving scratches through the maze of scars. The newly raised lines disfigure the old, tiny pools of blood rising to the top— a gentle reminder of your presence compared to his preferred methods.

"That's it, there you go," he pulls away breathlessly, making sure to use slow, flat sweeps of his tongue to clean up the mess he's made. The smeared red on your neck is licked away into a mere stain.

Your bodies finally ease into stillness. Exhausted, he rests his weight on top of you. His face nuzzles into the crook of your neck, eyes shut as you hold him.

Your lips press softly to his shoulder, your head lying against his. The heavy exhales between you alternate, your chests rising and falling deeply until they progress into something more controlled.

Though out of each other's lines of sight, you share the same troubled expression, your brows furrowed and lips pulled into frowns.

There's a long, silent moment of recuperation before he mutters into your ear,

“I love you."

#astarion #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #astarion ancunin #astarion angst #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #ascended astarion #oneshot

[bunny-lily]

Tether Me - Prologue

Pairing(s): Geto/Gojo/Reader Summary: You ran.

It's what you did in life. It's all you knew how to do. You ran, ran, and kept running and never stopped, because if you stopped, it meant you were trapped, chained, a bird with shredded wings in a gilded cage.

So, how did you end up here, tucked away into a little village in rural Japan, falling into the depths of two black holes with no way to escape?

How could you run from this? From them?

…Would you? CW: No y/n | polyamory | slow burn | slice of life | alt au - no curses | fluff | light angst | eventual smut | forgive me, there's internal monologues | I like using big words... | Gojo & Geto are whipped for you | emotionally constipated reader | (most of the tags have been condensed, you can find the full list on my ao3 here) AN: this is just the prologue chapter, sort of exposition. No bois in this one (technically), but I'm posting chapter 1 at the same time as the prologue. As a heads up, my most comfortable place for posting my longer fics like this is ao3. You can find more of my blurb thoughts on there. I'm not the best at tumblr posting, so forgive me pls ;-;

Ch: Prologue | Ch: 1 | Ch: 2 | Ch: 3 | Ch: 4

WC: 9.4k

You’ve always likened yourself to a kite, but less pretty and enjoyable.

Every time you glanced at a kite in the children’s toy section, or watched as thousands flew in the sky during festivals, your eyes stung and something bitter and uncomfortable twisted in your gut. In a way, you saw yourself in them; fragile little creatures tethered to the earth by no fault of their own. So easy to snap – to break.

They were always trapped, chained down, forever bound to either get reined back in after one had their fill of fun, or to fall like tragic angels to the ground when the winds died, and they would once again be unable to travel free amongst the stars where they belonged. All thanks to the threads wrapped around their very bones, far too strong for something that looked so thin and prone to fraying.

Yet nobody ever did release the chains. Who would willingly free their prized, imprisoned bird?

Of those pretty, unfortunate kites, you lamented with them. 

You, too, were pinioned to solid ground. Your wings were clipped, feathers torn from flesh one by one until you were born in a body that could no longer fly. Responsibilities, duties, relationships – they all kept you drowning in a suffocating pile of down-stuffed pillows, filled with plumes that were once yours. They progressively got heavier and heavier, locking your limbs between illusions of comfort and safety, sitting on your chest and flooding your mouth until you choked and gagged and couldn’t breathe.

You were different from kites, sure, beyond the very obvious things. You weren’t a pitifully flimsy, inanimate toy, left forgotten in some closet, awaiting the one day you’d be remembered, taken out, and allowed to taste the breath of deities themselves again. But if you could glide in the wind like they could, oh, nothing would bring you more joy, more solace, even if you were still tied down. All for just a kiss of freedom.

You ached to be detached from everything and everyone. An untethered kite, a fledgling bird learning to fly, a paper lantern that glowed its very joy from within for all to see.

Paper lanterns.

You couldn’t stand paper lanterns, because you yearned so deeply to be one. How wonderful it would be to have a warmth alight inside you as you rose to the heavens, lighter than air. 

You envied them. 

They made you nauseous with longing.

They made you want to stretch your fingers high and try to catch one within your palm like a cascading star.

They made you want to reach your fist past your throat and rip out your heart barehanded, just to make the accursed thing stop pounding so goddamned hard in your stomach as it sank lower and lower with each additional candle that got to join their family of stars beyond celestia. 

Because, for fuck’s sake, you belonged up there, too. Free, flaring, blazing and flickering so spectacularly that philosophers would wax poetic about you for ages to come.

It wasn’t fucking fair for you to be stuck on Mother Nature’s spine like this, burdened by the neutron star in your body that just grew more and more dense, urging you to dive into the ocean and let it snare you into its depths. You didn’t choose to spawn with a spirit disconnected from the flesh that acted as its prison, you didn’t choose to be jailed like this.

So why?

Maybe that’s one of the reasons you were drawn to kites. You pitied them. You pitied yourself.

You weren’t a kite. You didn’t want to be one, to have your boundless form fettered down. But when you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, that’s all you could ever see staring back at you. A kite with faded, worn out paints that barely clung to the tattered paper, feebly held together by thin strips of bamboo that had been aged and mottled from the inside out by time.

You hated paper lanterns. You hated kites. You hated yourself.

As the years dragged on, from the moment your brain snapped into your body with the sudden realization that you were a conscious, living, breathing person, those ugly feelings festered and spread like a fungus that refused to abate even a trace, just a second so you could catch a breath of fresh air that didn’t reek of mildew.

The seconds spanned on for eons without prejudice, destroying your cells at the molecular level with each passing birthday that trudged reluctantly along.

In the back of your mind, the sensation of being asphyxiated by your own feathers that had been shorn away from you etched itself deeper and deeper into your psyche. You became restless, antsy, the variegated world around you fading rapidly. Colors you once saw as a child, before you could latch the inherent sense of wrongness in your chest to a concept, gradually dulled until all you were left with was a world tinged heavily in gray.

The streets you were raised on grew denser, despite the amount of people living on them never actually changing noticeably. The verdant grass of your backyard turned into a dominating presence everytime you laid your eyes on it, unruly and all-consuming, demanding an undivided attention you did not want to give. The orange beams that hung over black asphalt instilled a sense of panic in you that wasn’t there before. 

You used to be fond of walking around your neighborhood in the middle of the night, when you rightfully should have been sleeping. An inverted circadian rhythm suited you well when you were young, unaware that the crushing sensation under your sternum would only get worse. 

Now, though, the thought of straying out where there wasn’t enough light to see straight ahead made sweat form on your chest and palms while your teeth clattered from a nonexistent chill.

Everything caved in on you. Not in a rush, not in a cataclysmic flood. No, you didn’t discern you were fighting for air until you were already gasping fruitlessly. Lost, terrified, unsure, you could only bear witness to the collapse of your own mind.

Then, one day, a soft voice whispered in your ear.

Run.

It wasn’t a threat, not some ominous warning of death looming over your shoulder. It was a suggestion, an offering, an olive branch towards that freedom you coveted. It was salvation. 

Who were you to ignore the hand of deliverance?

The first time you changed your scenery, moved elsewhere, even if it was only a few streets away from your childhood home, felt incredibly liberating. After so long that you had forgotten how it felt, you got the chance to gulp down air as if you had surfaced from beneath the perdition sea after spending your whole existence beneath it. 

Color returned to your world, excitement formed anew, everything felt right. Achromatic wastelands turned into kaleidoscopic meadows, fulgent and lucid. You savored it, reveled in it, frolicked and danced and lived.

…It didn’t last. 

Not long. You exhaled, and it all vanished, sand swept away by an uncaring and spiteful hand.

Once you had become used to the environment, when you no longer had to actively remember where your flat was, or how long it took to get to the store, everything was washed out; water dumped on a painting that had yet to form defined shapes.

That crushing sensation had returned, and with it the reminder that, as much as you wished you weren’t, you were a kite. Tethered, perpetually confined, worn bamboo strips and thin paper threatening to rend under the drag.

Thus, you ran again. A new town, a new city, a new skyline. Euphoria nestled cozily under your breast like a second heart, purring contentedly as it curled up on the nest of blankets it created for itself.

New places, new faces, new people. All of it was fascinating to you beyond measure. It interested you to no end to learn about other human beings; their thoughts, their perspectives, their preferences. What they despised with grit teeth and barely restrained anger clenched in trembling fists; what they loved so dearly that they could never drown beneath the same waves that followed your heels, tide rising progressively. 

They glowed from within, bright and budding and vibrant. Their eyes flickered with life, glazed so clearly that stars sparkled in the depths of their hues. You were drawn to them, a moth to mesmerizing fire.

You felt free. You rode that high as much as you could, for as long as it would allow.

Until a realization struck you with the force of a bullet train one night. A man hung onto your arm, easy laughter shared between the two of you as you let him take you home. Alcohol tinged his breath, but not enough to give him anything more than a slight buzz. He was a total gentleman through and through, and you listened with eagerness as he spoke about his upcoming work project, his excitement palpable with every word. 

His hand linked with yours, fingers intertwined, his warm palm engulfing yours. There was a comfort in that transient window of time, one you held to your heart. It was so unfamiliar, so addictive. And as you stopped before your door, having completely forgotten of your lack of wings, you waited with bated breath for him to slant into you.

A pair of infirm lips, minutely chapped and tasting of wine, pressed against yours, and dread exploded in your gut.

He pulled away from you, lovestruck in the way his eyes shone as he looked into your own, and reality crashed down on you with horrors in three measures, shattering like broken glass in the vortex of your conscious thought.

When you stared at him, watched the way he opened his mouth to speak, you made the connection.

“I really like you,” he had murmured to you that night, nearly shy. Yearning. Hoping.

Paper lantern.

“I want to ask you out properly.”

Tether. 

His words sank into your skin like ice, digging deep, burrowing into your marrow.

Kite.

The illusion of pellucid skies of the richest shades cracked, the lush plains you fantasized of often turned to barren heaths, and all those tormenting feelings came back to choke your breath with a vengeance. Sickly fingers wrapped around your throat, sunk into your mouth, dug past your gag reflex, wrapped around your ankles and wrists until you could barely lift your feet just to move forward. 

You remembered with great disdain what you were. You had managed to sever your thread by running off from the pod you were born in, but it wasn’t a clean cut. The string hung off your fragile wooden bones loosely, just waiting for somebody to grab and yank, to shred your freedom away from you once again, to leave you knotted around a pole to sit like decoration and stay.

You were not free.

You were not a paper lantern. You did not gleam from your soul like he did. You did not pour light from your heart and words and touch.

You’d do anything to forget that, to prove that sentiment wrong, to show the world that you weren’t a rock thrown into a pond. You’d do anything to change the narrative, to force a rewrite. So, you did what you always did.

You ran.

You found somewhere else to live, blipping off the radar unannounced. One moment you were there, the next you had cut your lingering thread an inch shorter, following the wind blindly like a duckling to your next destination.

Each time you settled down somewhere, you had this silent hope: maybe this is where I’ll be happy.

You clung to that hope, fervently ignoring the screeching whisper in your ear that said otherwise. The next place was never the final one. It never would be, no matter how hard you tried to delude yourself into believing you weren’t a lost soul, unable to move on. Some pathetic ghost you’d make, if you weren’t one already.

Whenever you let yourself rest for a heartbeat too long, the rope you had trimmed ever shorter was skimmed too close by too-warm fingertips, and you fled again, and again, and again.

That’s all you seemed to know nowadays.

Perhaps proven now, as you sat on a train in a foreign country, absentmindedly watching rural landscapes race past the window. Your knuckles pressed indents into your cheek, the sensation unpleasant and nearing on painful, though you had stopped paying any mind to it a while ago. Your thoughts laid scattered at your feet, and you couldn’t be bothered to pick them up.

Rather, the white matter of your brain was being filled with the empty, buzzing tune of songs you’d heard a hundred times over playing through your earbuds at the loudest volume possible. It made things easier to manage during this grand, several-thousand-mile-long trip. The less thinking you had to do, the better. It was the absolute last thing on your bucket list, loitering just under the cutoff line, hoping to sneak in a few words you refused to listen to.

You couldn’t let yourself regret this. You wouldn’t.

Not now, not after you’d already dropped everything and dissipated beyond the welkin’s gaze. You had only one place you could go to at all now, and you were already on your way there.

So if you had to blast your eardrums out to bridle the whisper-shouting voices spurned by overthinking, so be it.

Rice paddies blurred by, blending in from one farm to the next. The sun reflected off the waters the stalks soaked in, absorbing the warmth the light provided and feeding the plants with the fruit of life. Somewhere along the way, you had begun counting each field you passed for no particular reason.

You thought it’d lull you to sleep like counting sheep, subconsciously desiring to sink into a dreamless abyss and catch up on the hours that had been eluding you every night for months up to this point, given how far away you still were from your destination. But your cerebrum was not kind to you, and your body refused to succumb to the tempting allure of nothingness.

Thus, you remained as you were, counting paddies as the day never quite moved forward. The sun dwelled high, trying to glare down on you, but it couldn’t get the angle right to invade the shade of your tiny cabin room on the train.

It stayed stuck to the center of the sky, mighty and proud. But then, after what seemed like only a few seconds, you blinked, and suddenly it was hanging off the horizon’s ledge.

With a slight jolt, you realized the train had decreased in speed, and was continuing to lose momentum as it approached an isolated station, all alone in the countryside. You checked the time on your phone, your eyes feeling unusually heavy and sticky. It was only early night, but you were worn down to your sinew.

Right. Jet lag. You had hopped on a plane and traveled to the other side of the planet on a whim, another desperate attempt to grab onto the concept of freedom you craved. It didn’t take you longer than a week to find a small house deep in the pastoral lands of Japan, where mountains wrapped around the valley like a scarf. You chose Japan, if only because you learned the language when you were studying abroad some years ago.

It resided in a town of such a low population, blissfully around 600, it was a wonder you could even find a train that took you this far to begin with. Of course, that meant the house was decently rundown, with a community small enough to consider it unnecessary to repair. You couldn’t care less. All that meant to you was that it was cheaper to buy it outright than rent a more maintained structure. Buying it was a risky move, given your track record of up and ditching the last bed you slept on without any hindrance, but, at this point, you were tired.

You just wanted to be somewhere for longer than a month or two. Maybe owning a house was contrary to your desires to be unbound, with no board to pin your tattered and thin wings to, sure, the pros far outweighed the cons.

Cheap shelter, little to no people, far, far away from anywhere you’d been before. Three for three.

It’d still be a 45 minute drive or so before you actually got to your new residence, but you weren’t in any particular rush. You chose the most isolated place on purpose. Less people, less deafening sounds, less claustrophobic, brutalist structures that loomed higher and higher.

Less chance of being tied down.

With a hiss and a loggy wheeze, the train settled into place, jostling you as you got to your feet and stretched your arms above your head. The muscles in your back and shoulders twinged from sitting in the same position all day, and your legs stung like sparklers, but it was nice to work your joints properly again. After tucking away your phone and earbuds, you tugged your luggage down from the overhead rack with a grunt.

You were hopeful that there’d be taxis outside the station, and that you wouldn’t have to walk to the village. Who knows how long that would take. You’d probably keel over after the first mile. The thought made you snort while you squeezed down the aisle, suitcase with your bag stacked on it rolling behind you, purse strapped across your torso. The conductor – a sweet, older man – nodded silently to you as you disembarked, waving a farewell to you, which you returned. He was nice, you remembered him greeting you when you first boarded. 

He didn’t talk much, just a polite, “welcome aboard,” while the ticket collector pointed you in the direction of your cabin, which you greatly appreciated after hopping off a plane and hurrying your ass over to your required station. You were too spent for conversation.

Leaving the station was much easier than you expected. Unlike your home country, where you could get lost just by turning 45° to the left, Japan seemed to prefer neater environments that were easy to navigate. And, upon stepping out of the building, you rejoiced at spotting a few variously colored cabs waiting along the curb. Outside of one stood a man, roughly in his 50s or so, who waved you over.

“Need help getting somewhere, miss?” He questioned, and you nodded as you pulled out your phone, scrolling through your emails to find the one confirming your purchase of the listing. 

“Yeah, could you take me here?”

He glanced down at your screen when you showed him the address and chuckled quietly. “Well, that’s a surprise. Last time I visited that house was some twenty years ago to take the owner to the station, rather than from.”

You blanched nominally. Twenty years? Had your house really been abandoned for twenty years? The listing claimed it was only ten max, that estate bastard. A sigh left through your nose. Too late to deal with that now, you figured. “I just purchased it.”

The man nodded as he popped open the trunk and assisted you in slotting your luggage inside. “You look like you’ve come from far away. It’s rare for foreigners to choose to live in such a distant location. Not a fan of the city?”

I fucking hate cities.

“Something like that, yeah,” you assented, thanking him as he opened the back door for you. 

You appreciated his efficiency as he wasted no time dilly-dallying around. As soon as he was buckled up in the car, he was on the road, taking you down the last leg of your trip. The world outside the window streaked by in shades of violet and blood orange as the sun hovered on the edge of the skyline, reluctant to rest for the night.

“Ah, apologies. I’m Hayato Kazuhiko, you may call me Kazu, if you prefer,” he quickly introduced himself, and you followed suit. “Why’d you choose this little village of all places? It’s very small.”

You hummed. “That’s exactly why I chose it. I’m not a big…people-person, if you know what I mean.”

The older gentleman chuckled lightly. “My wife is the same,” he nodded as he peeked at you via the rearview mirror. “She had to visit the small town I used to live in one day, and it was love at first sight for us. She was immediately drawn to country life, and we’ve lived out in the neighboring town here ever since.”

“How long have you been married?”

“Twenty-five years,” he nodded, and you could see the pure love and devotion in his eyes as he spoke about his spouse. It was wholesome, and softened your heart a sliver. 

He was surprisingly relaxing to listen to. Pleasant voice that didn’t grate on your ears, a few stories shared about his wife, the occasional tale about some significant structure or location. It was calming, in an odd way. He’d point out a shrine or hiking trail you’d pass by, and offer to take you to them one day to teach you its history and meaning, and you actually considered it.

It could’ve been the harmless nature about him. Even as night descended and you could only really see his silhouette, inspecting him reminded you of your father, but…better, for lack of an accurate word. You weren’t afraid that he’d suddenly raise his voice, or take you down a suspicious road – or, hell, back to the train station to send your sorry ass right back to where you came from.

“Mr.–” you cut yourself off and cleared your throat, mildly embarrassed about slipping back into your mother tongue. Japanese honorifics were something you continued to struggle with. “Hayato-san, do you have children?”

He gave a mellow laugh and shook his head slightly. “Please, just Kazu is fine. And I do, three of them, in fact. A younger son, and twin girls about your age,” he estimated roughly.

So the fatherly air to him you picked up on wasn’t imagined. That brought you a form of reassurance you couldn’t distinctly name.

“My twin girls are all the way up in Tokyo,” he continued, chest puffed with pride, “and my son is still in highschool, causing chaos.”

“Chaos?” You raised a brow.

“Yes, but not the type you’d think,” he hummed. “He’s a gentle child, but his kind nature means he’s unfortunately quite gullible and gets himself into trouble.”

A voice, the faint echo of a memory long lost, intoned in the far reaches of your lucidity; someone shaming you for getting caught up in an issue that wasn’t even your fault. Your stomach twisted with dread, and your head snapped to peer at Hayato, expecting to find disappointment shining in his eyes when you studied them through the rear-view mirror.

Except, there wasn’t any.

Concern at most, a crease in his brow as he warred within himself between protecting and helping his kin, or letting the kid learn on his own. There wasn’t any disappointment, or anger, or exasperation. You could see him reminiscing as he stopped talking, focusing more on the twists that followed the mountain’s curve, and all you saw was just…love, and happiness.

The churning in your gut settled, instead replaced with a sense of hollowness. Not the kind that made you sick; rather, it was like you had a gap in your chest where a puzzle piece was missing, while his was filled with a perfectly fitted heart.

Bittersweet, possibly, but only distantly so. You felt happy for someone who was borderline a complete stranger to you, someone you shouldn’t even care about beyond tipping him well for driving you to the middle of nowhere in the dead of night, but you did anyway. 

Maybe I could have had that too, your thoughts mutedly supplied, if I was normal.

Then again, you didn’t want that, not really. Though you couldn’t tell if that was just who you were as a person, or a result of the coals perpetually under your feet, it didn’t change your mind.

Nothing could.

You were sure of it.

Smooth concrete eventually became a densely packed dirt road when Kazu turned off the main path, the car vibrating as the wheels rolled over loose stones and gravel. It didn’t last long, thankfully, as the shabby looking pile of wood came into view, albeit dark since the stars overhead were too dim to illuminate anything much.

“Where we are, miss,” he spoke as you both climbed out of the vehicle and met at the trunk. He opened it to retrieve your luggage, and you pulled your wallet out of your purse and counted off a few bills, wondering what the right amount to give to him would be.

It was hard to translate currency worth when things were valued differently in this country. Your trip abroad was a long time ago.

“Is this enough?” You peered up at him and held out the bills.

He took one glance at them and chuckled deeply. “That’s far too much, really,” he replied as he pulled only two of the strips out of the small stack you were holding. “Be careful with your money while you adjust to the currency of this country. Do you need assistance with your luggage?”

“Oh,” you analyzed the remaining money in your hands before tucking it back into your wallet. You really hoped he took the right amount needed and didn’t undersell himself. “No, I’ll be okay. You got me here in one piece, that’s all I could ask for.”

“Are you sure?”

Your head bobbed as you inspected your suitcase and bag, popping out the handle. “Yes, I am. Drive safe, Kazu-san. Thank you for taking me here.”

His chest rumbled with a laugh. “Please, it’s my job. You are pleasant company.”

“Likewise,” your lips rounded into a smile as you bowed politely. It was small, and you were tired, but it was genuine, the first one you’ve had for a long while. “Goodnight.”

Kazuhiko waved his hand in farewell, bidding you good dreams as he climbed back into the taxi and drove off, leaving you alone.

Your lungs deflated.

The air here was crisper, stinging your throat in a pleasant way as you inhaled slowly. Faint hints of pine and sap drifted across your senses. Nothing indicated any heavy stenches of smog or gasoline or gods know what litters the streets of every downtown city you’d been to before.

It would probably take you a while to get used to, and you oddly didn’t want to, if only so you could admire the fresh fragrance every time you stepped outside. Your muscles relaxed, surprising you as you hadn’t noticed just how tense you were until you were perched outside the front gate of your brand new (old) lodging.

Turning to face it, you groaned upon the realization that it was on a hill. Said hill was tiny, mind you, but a hill nonetheless. You found you couldn’t give much of a shit right now, just yearning to lay down and pass the fuck out for a while. Maybe the rest of tomorrow, too. A few weeks, actually, if you were allowed to choose. A coma sounded wonderful.

“Home sweet home,” you mumbled to nobody in particular as you pushed open the gate and virtually jumped out of your skin at the near shriek it gave. Okay, it had to have been longer than 20 years, that was loud. 

With your heart fluttering rapidly, you made a note to deal with it (and everything else) later and trudged up the incline, almost eating shit and dying when the toe of your boot caught on the edge of a stepping stone. Another thing to add to the “deal with later” list. You had a feeling it would just keep growing exponentially.

Finding the key was easy, for better and worse. It simply sat in the door knob’s lock, very safe and secure and definitely not putting your house at risk of…what?

There was nothing in there, evident when you pushed open the front door, which wailed just as loudly as the fence gate. You felt the blood drain from your face. Sure, the interior was empty, but the house was a wreck. Peeling walls, strange, crusty scent, and a sticky floor at the entrance that made you grimace when your sole pulled off it like velcro. You knew that it was custom in Japan to take off your shoes at the door, but fuck that. Absolutely not. You were not walking in any part of this house either in socks or barefoot.

Everything was virtually pitch black as you delved further in, so you depended on your other senses, and the ability to smell was one you wished you didn’t have. Your nose wrinkled as various rotting odors welcomed you, making you immediately regret going through all this.

Morning. You’d deal with it all in the morning.

Practically sneaking on your tip-toes, you explored the open space, trying to find the room that smelled the least and was passable to sleep in. Granted, there were really only two actual rooms down a hall going opposite of the kitchen besides the restroom and washroom, but the bigger one seemed decent.

At least you had a sleeping bag and wouldn’t be conking out on the bare floor. You went through the motions of prepping for bed mostly by habit, doing the bare minimum seeing as you didn’t have much of a choice. You brushed your teeth with the water from your tumbler, located and unrolled your sleeping bag, and climbed under the rustling top after yanking your shoes off, zipping it up as far as it went. 

Admittedly, the setup was kinda janky, but it got the job done. 

You couldn’t be bothered to change into pajamas.

With your head plopped on probably the least comfortable pillow you had found to bring with you (also the only one that would fit in with the rest of your shit, it was practically a pillowcase filled loosely with sporadically placed lumps of stuffing), you closed your eyes, and your body finally let sleep take over.

─────•(-•ʚɞ•-)•─────

Morning was not pleasant. Surrounded by the musty scent of gods-know-what, back aching from the restless sleep you got from your pitiful sleeping bag and the hard floor, you were groggy beyond belief and desperate for fresh air. And a massage. And a cigarette.

You didn’t smoke, finding the heavy and pungent funk nauseating, but the temptation was there. You felt you gained a little more understanding of smokers.

Brushing the thought aside, you pushed yourself up into a sitting position and rubbed the heel of your palm against the sore spot on the side of your skull. You would have believed someone replaced your pillow with a rock if you hadn’t intimately known that lump of fluff. Or, rather, lack thereof.

Red lines, tender to the touch and tingling a little, were pressed onto the arm you laid on for most of the time you slept, causing you to hiss when you traced your fingers against them. It seemed to be barely past dawn when you reviewed what was out your window, leaving you questioning just how long you slept, if at all.

Figuring you wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep anyway, you shoved yourself out of ‘bed’ and groaned when every joint in your body popped and every bone creaked. Hell, you weren’t sure you’d be able to sleep tonight again. Not here, anyway. More problems for future you.

She’d certainly be happy about that. She already had so much shit to handle.

The growl of your stomach reminded you that food was something you needed to consume to continue living. 

Reluctant as you were to do anything, you figured going out by starvation was 1) probably not the best idea, and 2) you wanted to be out of this dingy torture shed.

What was unfortunate was that you, like a smart person, didn’t bring anything more than snack bars and those weird trail mixes with the fruit cubes that you just threw into your bag without much care. It was really the only motivation you needed to walk your sorry self out the door. 

After you brushed your teeth and changed your clothes, of course, being very careful to not let anything touch the floor.

Stepping out of your home through the shabby and creaky door with your purse slung across your chest, you were met with the grandiose sight of mountains surrounding you on every side. They rose high, aching to brush the sky and touch a star, just one, just once, just for a second. Covered in thick greenery, you figured the faint yet present scents of cedar, pine, and other woodsy tones were carried down into the valley from the steep inclines.

You couldn’t see any of these details nearly as well when you were dragging your tired ass to this place with ink covering the sky in a thick veil, but it truly was breathtaking.

Had nature always been this green before?

Having only done some cursory research on the village – namely, population – you didn’t bother giving yourself time to actually inspect photos of the tiny rural town. From what you’d seen anyway, pictures could never do it justice. A velvety breeze brushed against your cheek, prompting you to tuck your hair behind your ear and pivot towards the direction the gale came from.

Your breath left you in a silent ‘oh’, mesmerized by the incredible view of the rising sun you had. It shone valiantly and radiantly through the gaps it had carved out between the towering peaks itself, illuminating the land in shades of brilliant gold with its splendor.

For perhaps the first time in your life, you felt…nothing.

Not a sense of hollowness, nor a void in your chest, no.  A peaceful kind of nothing, as if not a thing in the world could take your mind away from this newfound elysium you found in sharing the morning’s shine with its source.

Invisible fingers caressed your jaw, threading through your hair with the gentle touch of adoration, as if you were delicate.

You hated to be treated like you were easily breakable, as fragile as glass, but this sensation was consoling, rather than degrading. The wind cherished you, not akin to a brittle figurine, rather as someone who was beautiful and worthy of gentleness unsullied by pity or licentious intentions. As if you were someone to be worshipped and revered.

A mother combing her fingers through her daughter’s hair, humming a lullaby only she knew the tune of.

Perhaps it wasn’t impossible to find what you were searching for. You didn’t know what it was exactly, a question without an answer, but it gave you a place to start.

With a deep breath swelling behind your ribcage, filling your soul with air untouched by sickly city pollution you were so accustomed to, you turned and began heading down the beaten dirt path that led into the heart of the village. The early summer warmth was pleasant on your skin, not too hot given the time. It seeped into your cold fingers and made them ache a little less with each minute going by.

While the town you had chosen was visually quite a bit older in style, with smaller structures dotted about reflecting traditional Japanese designs, there were some modernities. Electricity was, fortunately, one of them. 

Based on the fact that you found and bought the listing online, you figured there was likely a way for you to get your hands on some Wi-Fi here, too. You’d probably die without it.

The nearer you drew to the center of the population, the denser the structures became. Not to say they were rubbing walls, but neighbors were only a short few steps away, compared to the distance between your own house and the one closest to it.

Minka houses in significantly better condition than yours spanned either side of the road as the terrain shifted from soil to asphalt. They were beautiful, and you bet that living in that kind of house in this kind of place was either absurdly expensive, or dirt cheap, with no real in-between. You were personally on the latter end of this, which probably wasn’t a good thing. 

Doomed by the narrative once again.

Off in the distance on an elevated surface, you could see what you thought was a Wayo Kenchiku temple, if you had to guess. Its overlapping roofs were a deep green in shade, nearly black. They protected the desaturated brown walls of the building, and you were taken aback by how easy the temple was to see from where you were.

It sat across a wide river, one surprisingly calm as you approached it. It rushed along, springing with glimmering waves that shimmered under the light and frothed white around raised boulders. Despite it coming across as fairly deep, you could see clear through to the bottom, with the water itself being a refreshing shade of clear blue. A bridge spanned the rift, made of sturdy wood that had dark railings protecting either side of you, matching the aesthetic of your surroundings.

The bridge whined under your weight, but didn’t shift, giving you some reassurance that you wouldn’t go crashing through the planks. It led into the most packed section of the whole area, with structures built closer together, bearing a more modernized likeness, while retaining its unique characteristics.

In truth, though you remained apprehensive, the voice that scratched at the back of your skull everywhere you went and pestered you to run, run, run, had quieted. You hadn’t registered it, the silence, too focused on taking in your new surroundings as a serene blanket covered the thoughts that usually pranced wild and free in your cranium, putting them to rest with a whispered mercy:

This feels right.

It didn’t take you long to spot what you figured was the local grocery store. The bell above the door chimed as you stepped inside, peering at what products you could see on the shelves and aisles from where you stood. Being an anxious little creature, you double-checked to make sure you had your wallet, as well as the translated bills within. Last thing you wanted was to embarrass yourself in a place where everybody knew everybody.

Reassured, you chose a random aisle and headed down it, skimming the products to see if any of them appeared even vaguely familiar to you. Besides cans of soup and tubes of Pringles, there wasn’t much for you to grab onto. Sure, there was ramen, but you didn’t have a way to boil water. Cereal and milk, maybe?

Shit, no, you didn’t have any cutlery or dinnerware. Unless you wanted to be a sad raccoon and eat raw cereal straight from the box, but you weren’t that desperate.

Yet.

Mentally crossing out your options as you went through them, you nearly knocked over an entire row of items when you almost ran into an older lady who stood in the middle of the strip, watching you.

“Oh! I’m so sorry!” You hopped back a foot, raising your hands in front of you placatingly. “I-I didn’t see you there, am I in your way?”

The woman laughed and shook her head, her smile reminding you of a grandmother that’d sneakily give her grandkids candies while their parents weren’t watching. “You’re quite alright, I was actually wondering if you need help?”

“Oh, uh…” Bashfully scratching the back of your head, you glanced at the various bags of foodstuffs beside you and debated your choices. Say no, when it was painfully obvious how green behind the ears you were, or set down your pride and ask for assistance.

Your stomach chose for you, warning you to suck it up and get food before it began eating itself.

The woman’s chuckle was heartier the second time around, her eyes glimmering with mirth as she motioned for you to follow her. Feeling a bit like a scolded child, you trailed after her while she wove her way around her store towards the produce section at the back. She pulled a random fruit from the thunder-rain-shelf-thing (you honestly had no idea what it was called) and rubbed it against her apron before handing it to you.

“Eat,” she insisted.

You blinked rapidly, peeping the fruit, the sign for it, then her. “How much…?”

The lady waved her free hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it. Eat, I insist.”

You were going to argue further, but a deep cramp in your gut had you sinking your teeth into the sweet and wonderfully-textured treat. As embarrassing as it was, you borderline moaned as you chewed, quickly taking another bite. Whatever it was, it tasted divine.

This time, when she directed you to move with her, you followed without hesitation. “Thank you so much,” you mumbled as she pulled out a chair from behind the counter and urged for you to sit on it.

“It’s nothing, I can’t let you go hungry, now,” she swept away your worries. “You’re new here,” she stated, rather than asked.

You nodded through another bite, waiting until you swallowed before continuing the conversation. “Yes, I got here last night.”

“Oh? Are you visiting someone?”

“No, I moved here.”

Her brows raised. “Really, now? Who are you staying with?”

Mid-bite, you stopped to address the matter. “Oh, no, I’m not living with anyone. I purchased the house just outside the village.”

The way her eyes widened was nearly comical. “That place? Now, that’s a surprise.”

If you had a nickel.

“That’s the second time I’ve heard that now,” your lips tugged into a frown and you stifled it with another chomp into the sweet object in your hand.

At that, she simpered mutedly. “I apologize. I’m merely awed that it was still standing, let alone that someone had bought it. Last I heard, there hasn’t been anyone living there for, oh, maybe 20 years or so.”

The realtor, that dog. He did lie to you after all.

You scornfully hoped he was enjoying spending your money.

Picking at your cheek with your free hand, you looked away with a nervous giggle. “Yeah, it’s…not in great shape. I have a lot of work cut out for me.”

“You’re going to try to repair it?”

“Yeah. Keyword being try.”

“I’m not sure that’s a wise choice.”

You sighed. “Me neither, but I don’t have much of a choice now.”

The woman shook her head, smiling regardless. “You let me know what kind of help you need. There are plenty of handymen in this village of ours, I’m sure they’d be happy to help.”

“Oh, that’s very nice of you, but…I’m sorry, I didn’t ask for your name,” you pouted, hurriedly introducing yourself.

“Just call me Granny. And I won’t take no for an answer, missy,” okay, now you really felt scolded. “I won’t stand for you trying to fix up that cluster of wood by yourself, it’s far too dangerous. And you shouldn’t be staying there while it’s in that condition, either. Give me a moment, let me find someone you can stay with.”

Panic rose up in you and you waved your hands frantically in front of you. “N-No! It’s fine, I’ll– I’ll figure something out, really, don’t worry. Please.”

Granny eyed you suspiciously, her hand hovering over the landline on the wall. “Are you sure?”

“Yes! It’s fine, I’m fine, I promise.”

Her eyes remained squinted, even as she lowered her arm. “Alright, if you say so. But if you need any kind of help, big or small, come to me right away, okay?”

Relieved you wouldn’t have to interact with more strangers, you nodded and deflated. “I will.”

“Promise me, young lady.”

“I promise.”

She grinned brightly and ruffled your hair. “That’s a good girl. Let me pack you a few things to take with you so you have something to eat.”

“Ah– wait, I…I’m not very good with currency yet,” you halted her sheepishly. The prices were still confusing as fuck to you. Man, how the fuck were you going to manage this when you get a job? If?

“Nonsense, it’s on me. I won’t charge you.”

Sorry, what? Did she do that for every person she met five minutes prior?

“But– but that’s not–”

“Finish up your peach,” she asserted as she was already walking away with a bag in her hands that wasn’t there a second ago. What was it with grannies and having some weird, innate magic?

Your eyes darted down at your half-eaten peach, surprised to learn that it wasn’t some foreign fruit you’d never even heard of before, let alone tried. It was an exceptional blend between succulent and rich; easy to bite into and chew without pouring juice all over yourself.

The fuck kind of peaches have you been eating before?

Sensing you might be buying these often if they were this good, you had well-nigh inhaled the rest of it by the time Granny came back with a stuffed bag.

“Here you go, dear,” she held out the shopping bag to you, which you took graciously after tossing out the peach pit into the small trash can by the counter.

Glancing into the bag, your lips shifted downwards. It was filled with a few different fruits and veggies, a couple bags of snacks, but mostly packaged food that looked like it could be eaten as is without needing to worry about cooking it. Your guilt skyrocketed. “Granny, this is too–”

“Don’t worry about paying. Save your money for the repairs of that home of yours.”

Your head shot up, eyes widening. “I can’t–”

“You can because I say so, young lady,” Granny puffed out her chest proudly, using a motherly tone that easily put you in your place, much to your bafflement. You didn’t even listen to your own mother like this. “Come back in the evening, I’ll have something cooked up for you.”

“You really don’t–”

She made brushing motions with her fingers, shooing you off the chair. “Off you go. There’s a lovely little pergola in the park, go have breakfast there. Just turn right when you leave and keep walking straight.”

Flustered, you let her push you along out the door, your confused brain trying to catch up. “Granny–”

“I’ll have a list of handymen for you when you return,” she informed you right as she managed to get you out the door. “Explore the town while there’s still daylight!”

And just like that, she was back in her store, sweeping with a broom that you swear materialized out of nowhere. You stared at the shop for a good minute, blinking dumbly until you processed whatever just happened.

You still weren’t wholly sure. You went in, expecting to grab a bag of something random to ‘feed’ yourself with, and left with a bag full of free food from a woman who spontaneously decided to give it to you. 

The fuck. She’d go bankrupt if she just kept giving strangers sustenance off her own back.

Your own feet seemed to carry you along as you exhaled through your nose and took her instructions to heart. Too late now, you’d feel bad if you went in and returned everything. It’d be insulting at this point, and you were hungry, anyway

A cooked meal did sound lovely as well, discomfited as you were. You had never met your own grandmothers – not in person at least, so you had no idea if grandmothers were simply like that or not. Regardless, you had a feeling she was going to fill that role in whether you liked it or not. 

Luckily, you were drifting towards like. She did give you free food, after all, and was going to find help for you. That part you were more apprehensive about, however, stubbornness and introversion making you want to be stupid and attempt to pick up carpentry out of nowhere.

All you could do was try to accept it and sigh, taking in the sights, stores, and dwellings as you walked past them and towards the park. A couple shops caught your eye, particularly a clothing boutique, and what could possibly be a hardware store. You weren’t certain, and didn’t want to find out yet. The prospect of entering one and facing the big ass sign that said ‘you don’t know what the hell you're doing!’ was too daunting to approach for now.

It didn’t take you long to get to the park. In fact, it was such a short walk that it bemused you. A population of 600 people seemed larger on paper than it was in reality. Most of the town was behind you, granted, but the uncanniness was uplifting, in a way.

It didn’t feel claustrophobic. The trees in the park were closer together than some of the buildings outside it, and they smelled so good that it knocked you back a step. The entire wild garden carried the fresh perfume of sweet and fresh vegetation, from blooming flowers scattered about and the grass underfoot, to the rustling leaves above. You couldn’t recall the last time you were in a park, let alone one that was as vibrant and alive as this one.

The pergola was easy to find. It resided in the center, right beside a large pond that you saw was filled with koi fish when you got close. 

They swam to-and-fro, carefree, intermingling, playing, and searching for food. 

Your stomach twisted when you made an unintentional connection in your mind. They reminded you of kites. Pretty, ultimately trapped.

The koi fish, however, didn’t seem to mind one bit. Not that you could understand fish language. They just went about their business calmly. It perplexed you, didn’t spending their lives in a single body of water bother them? Didn’t it make them depressed?

Could fish feel depression?

Shaking your head to rid it of the peculiar journey your mind had gone off on, you set the bag down on the table under the pergola and settled into one of the chairs, reaching to dig through your options. Of the items present, you opted to munch on a sandwich Granny had tossed in with everything else, bundled in saran wrap and clearly made by her.

While you were skeptical of pre-made food bought in a grocery store like this, one sniff had you biting into it ravenously. You were way hungrier than you thought as you devoured it, trying to will yourself to slow down enough to at least savor the taste of it. Your earlier guilt and trepidation disappeared three bites in, and you were now very much anticipating Granny’s handmade cooking if this was the kind of sandwich she was capable of creating.

You questioned again if all grannies were like this, or if you lucked out. Either way, if it meant you didn’t have to struggle with food for the time being (or ever, if Granny let you mooch off her forever), you didn’t mind getting spontaneously adopted by her at all.

About halfway through your meal, the koi fish in the pond caught your attention again. They were gorgeous animals, graceful and sleek with scales that twinkled iridescently when the sun flickered over them from between the gaps in the canopy above. They had you mesmerized, sights focused solely on them as they showed off.

Maybe they had managed to hypnotize you, because you decided to tear off a piece of the ham, rip it into tiny pieces, then throw it towards the pond. There was a large splash as all the fish rushed towards the food, making you snicker.

A sort of childish glee bloomed within you, persuading you to indulge them a smidgen longer before you finished off your food. The park seemed like a sacred place where nothing could touch you, where the lands would remain lavish and healthy, and where you could let all your worries fade away.

Arcadian – that was the best way you could describe it. Placid, halcyon, grounding, mellow. You could go on and on, really, but you–

The hairs on the back of your neck prickled when you sensed that someone, or something, was watching you. Heat grazed against your nape, slow, measured breaths right behind your ear. A kiss from a pair of soft lips that never reached your skin. A demanding presence wrapped around your figure, a prey caught in the trap laid out precisely by a steadfast and salivating predator.

Ghostly fingers slid down your shoulders, crept over your forearms, and encircled your wrists, holding them in place with a deceptively lax hold. Something firm and wide pressed against your shoulder blades, keeping you between it and the table.

Your heart kicked in your throat, preventing you from swallowing anything more than a tiny gasp.

And, like the cornered quarry you were, you shifted slowly to peek from the corner of your eye, avoiding any sudden or abrupt movements. You expected to find a beast hovering over your shoulder, eagerly anticipating your reaction. 

There was nothing. 

Only foliage greeted your wide-eyed inspection, expansive and untouched since you came here. The feeling of being hunted on had evaporated as soon as you checked, and though uncertain of this verdict, you chalked it up to being in totally unfamiliar territory. A result of a soundless, featherlight brush of wind, a critter in the foliage envying the fish you fed, lasting no more than a sigh.

Your brow furrowed as you searched through the plant life, seeing not even a hair out of the ordinary. That dovish sensation the park carried returned like it had never left to begin with, coaxing you to let it go and relax.

Maybe that was your cue to leave.

You shook off the lingering sensation with a shiver. Everything was okay in the wooded pasture, and as tranquil as your surroundings were, you knew you’d have to face the elephant in the room eventually.

You dusted yourself off as you got up to dislodge any lingering crumbs, carefully packed everything back into the bag, and took one final look around. This place would become your safe haven, you determined. Already, you were thinking of coming back, the memory of your adrenaline spiking fading rapidly. Imagining returning here gave you that minor push you need to fill your lungs with courage and turn to head back out the way you came.

You could explore the town later. Right now, you needed to address the state of your new stead and gauge what laid ahead of you first. Maybe it’d give you at least an idea of what you required to get started on all of this, though you doubted you’d come out of witnessing it in the full glory of the sun knowing more than you did now.

Absentmindedly, the milieu filtered into your subconscious, automatically noting small landmarks here and there to assist you in finding your way around the streets while they still confused you, until you had learned to traverse them and knew every path and alley like the back of your hand.

(Just in case, you assessed the back of your right hand. You know, to reacquaint yourself with it.)

Glumness overtook. You knew you probably wouldn’t stay here for too long, no matter how much you liked it. You could fix up the house, flip it, and head off someplace else again in pursuit of something that probably didn’t exist.

It’s always been this way for you. The same old pattern, the same old story, the neverending book that looped in on itself over and over, caught in a wormhole where the exit was the entrance.

So it was easy to convince yourself to not get attached to the valley, nor the people, nor that damn sticks-on-bricks abode. Not even the grass filled with flowers and protected by tall trees you had already found yourself longing for.

It was easier this way. This was all you knew, after all.

You had it all figured out.

Didn't you?

banner by cafekitsune ♥

#Tether Me #jjk x reader #gojo x reader #satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #geto x reader #suguru x reader #geto suguru x reader #suguru geto x reader #satosugu x reader #chimera writes

[turtletaubwrites]

A Good Catch ~ Part 2

Thank you so much for all of your support! This was part of my 600 Followers Celebration, and I am so happy y'all voted for Shanks. I adore him 🥰

Pairings: Shanks x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 5030

Part 1 | Part 3 | Part 4 (End)

Ao3 Link

Summary: You've got a few burning questions for this charming captain, but soon you'll be answering his. Is it really safe to trust a pirate?

Rating/Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content, 18+ ONLY, MDNI, AFAB!Reader, She/Her Pronouns for Reader, Reader-Insert, Swearing, Smut, Fluff, Angst, Teasing, Flirting, Alcohol, Brief Discussion of Family Trauma, Hair Pulling, Vaginal Fingering, Penis in Vagina Sex, Unprotected Sex, (Be safe out there), Birth Control, Aftercare, Shanks is such a fucking tease

A/N: I just love this hungover pirate 😅

| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 | ko-fi |

A key pressed into your palm. A gentle hand on your lower back. A whispered demonstration, keeping your secret. 

Shanks stared at you through the doorway, looking down the hall before grabbing your chin with his thumb, another slow smile on those lips.

“Sweet dreams.”

His eyes crinkled as all you could do was nod, watching him walk away down that lantern lit hall. 

The key still held the warmth of his skin. 

Fuck. 

The metal thumped onto wood as you tossed it on the desk, shoving the chair under the doorknob, just like he’d shown you. 

Exhaustion pulled you down, and you rolled yourself into soft blankets, grateful that your mind only had the energy for a few more conflicting thoughts before sleep took you. 

He’s done everything he can to make me feel safe.

He’s a pirate.

His crew are all so kind, it feels like they’re a family.

He’s a pirate.

He’s gorgeous, and funny, and sweet, even though he’s annoying as fuck.

But he’s a pirate. And he’ll be leaving in three days. I’ll never see him again. 

Dreams of life on the high seas left you foggy in the morning, panic running through you until you remembered where you were. 

Thank gods there’s a bathroom in here. 

The guest quarters didn’t have a shower, but the toilet, mirror, and sink were a godsend. Cringing at your hair, you got to work, managing to tame it before you climbed back into Shanks’ clothes.

They smell like him. 

Resisting the urge to sniff his shirt took more willpower than you’d like to admit. 

Quiet. 

There was hardly a sound on the entire ship as you struggled to remember the way out. 

“Mornin,” came a gruff voice on the deck, waving from his perch on the railing. The light of the sunrise made his brown skin and dark blonde dreads seem to glow. 

You would have thought he was attractive if your eyes hadn’t gone wide at the two large pistols on his hips. 

“You’re up early,” he continued, tilting his body and moving his hands away from his weapons. 

“Fisherwoman,” you choked out. 

“That’s right,” he laughed, standing to take a few slow steps toward you. “I’m Yassop. I can bring you down to the beach if you’d like, but I'm sure everyone’s still snoring like sea lions.”

“Is the captain down there?”

“Oh, he’s down there,” Yassop teased, his smirk making you clench your teeth. “Yours might be the only face that could wake him up this early.”

“And why’s that,” you growled, following him across the deck. 

“Oh no, I���m not getting into the captain’s business.”

You scowled at the chuckling marksman all the way down to the beach.

~

“Wake up.”

Shanks whined, weakly batting away the driftwood stick you were poking into his chest. You definitely weren’t getting distracted by the pull of those muscles as he stretched on his makeshift hammock. 

The camp looked just as it did last night, except that every mug, plate, and pirate was now on the ground, quiet and still besides the orchestra of snores that Yassop hadn’t exaggerated. 

“Get up.”

Shanks rubbed his hand over his face, somehow managing to look stunning even as he struggled to get his eyes open.

“Ugh, fish girl,” he yawned, keeping his hand over his eyes now, blocking out the light. “Are we under attack?”

“What? No. I need to talk to you.”

He peeked through his fingers at you, the hint of that teasing smile already showing. 

“If you wanna spend time with me, all you have to do is– ow!”

Another quick jab to those lovely pecs had Shanks rolling out of the hammock, hanging onto your shoulder as he wobbled on his feet. 

The driftwood stick fell to the ground as his pretty eyes, heavy lidded with sleep, came so close to yours. 

“Sorry,” he rasped, letting his hand trail down your arm before letting you go. “Somebody woke me up too early.”

“I guess pirates are just lazy degenerates after all,” you said flatly, holding in the shivers his touch had caused.

“Degenerates,” he laughed softly, rubbing along his brow as he took in the sight of his hungover men sprawled across the sand. “I suppose that’s fair.”

Groaning, you picked up the stick, gasping as his hand gripped yours. He trapped your fingers around the dry wood, tracing his thumb along your knuckles as he prevented you from poking him. 

“Please, fish girl, have pity on an old–” he cut himself off at your frown, “on a handsome, young, very hungover pirate.”

He chuckled as you tried to wrest yourself from his grasp, and he didn’t let you go this time. 

“I can’t think this early, love. Not without breakfast, or a shower at least.”

“Fine, let's go take a– I mean you! You take a shower! You’re all sandy…”

His laughter followed you as you stomped your way back to his stupid ship.

~

Shanks’ laughter had been replaced by more whines as he held his hand over his eyes, getting you lost in the ship on the way to the bathing room. 

Finally at the large door to that tiled room, the shaky captain spun to face you. He managed to catch himself on the door frame as he stumbled, then leaned against it as if it were on purpose.

You rolled your eyes as he pulled a scarf from his pocket, dangling it in front of your face.

“Guard the door for me?”

“What? Why?”

“Guess I’ll just go back to slee–”

“Fine,” you said through gritted teeth, grabbing the scarf as you slid to the floor. “Aren’t you too tired to be this annoying?”

“Not in the slightest.”

You could feel him crouch beside you, and saw his feet beneath the blindfold.

He traced around the scarf to check your work, rubbing his thumb along your temple before tugging the fabric further down your nose. 

“No peeking,” he purred, and you hoped he hadn’t seen your toes curling, your feet still bare without clean shoes.

“Like I’d want to.”

“Lying is bad for the soul, fish girl,” he teased, tapping the tip of your nose with a finger before heading inside. The sound of his satisfied laughter made you want to crawl out of your skin.

Sitting there, listening to the rush of water as this man showered on the other side of the door, was making you absolutely insane.

He’s a pirate. He’s here for a reason. I can’t get distracted.

“Sorry, I forgot to bring a change of clothes,” his deep voice poured through the door. “Someone interrupted my beauty sleep.”

“So?”

“So, I’m in a towel, we’ll have to stop by my quarters. You can keep the blindfold on if you like.”

“You’ll get us lost again,” you complained, pushing yourself to your feet as you pulled the scarf from your face. “Besides, your shirts show practically your whole torso anyway, so it won’t be much different.”

The door opened wide, Shanks’ smile even wider as your lips parted. 

“You really like my shirts, don’t you?”

You managed to frown at him as he grabbed his sandy clothes and shoes, holding them against his hip, just a towel around his waist. 

And that line of dark, red hair. 

“Mind closing the door for me, darlin’?”

You jolted out of your stupor, shutting the door before following him down the hall. 

Some water still dripped from his hair, slow rivulets flowing down the muscles of his upper back, some trailing even further…

“What,” you chirped, trying to remember what he’d just said. 

He clicked his tongue a few times, shaking his head to let more shining drops of water dance down his skin. 

“Waking the captain up early just to ignore him? Did all your manners fall off your boat with your missing oar?”

“Shut up,” you huffed, standing to face him in front of the door to his quarters. 

Shanks was not doing well at suppressing his self satisfied grin, and you were having trouble focusing on anything at all. 

“Will you get the door for me, love?”

“Why,” you countered, still trying to keep your eyes glued to his face.

“You really argue about everything, don’t you?”

He shook his head, then dropped his clothes and shoes to the floor. The sound of the shoes startled you, bringing your eyes down. 

Just in time to see his towel slipping, more of that dark red hair traveling down before you squeaked, turning around and clamping your eyes shut. 

Shanks brushed past, the heat of his body, the scent of his skin, so close. He paused behind you as he opened the door, and you couldn’t hide your small gasp as he breathed that deep, dangerous voice along your neck.

“Guess you should have kept the blindfold on.”

You held your breath as you tried not to shake, listening as he moved away. Soft chuckles teased you through the air as he shut the door. 

Breath came back to you, heavy, and too loud, as you turned to find his clothes and the damp towel on the ground. 

It had just happened, but the memory of him breathing on your skin with nothing on his own sent heat twisting in your core.

He’s a pirate. He’s leaving. I’ll never see him again.

Shanks came out with a smirk, the shirt he’d chosen today not tucked or buttoned at all, just the sleeve tied off at his missing arm. 

“What’s the point of wearing a shirt at all,” you huffed, taking the change of clothes he offered.

“Because you seem to enjoy it so much,” he called through the door as you changed. 

It felt like your head was about to explode with all the shit he was doing to you. It was embarrassing, and you had to focus. 

You crossed your arms when you faced him in the hallway, trying to shut down every part of your brain that wanted to fucking giggle when he looked at you.

“What are you–”

“That color looks good on you,” he hummed with a crooked smile, tugging the rolled up fabric of his shirt at your elbow. 

You stuttered, but he turned on his heel.

“W-Wait!”

“Let’s talk over breakfast.”

That stupid red hair walking away almost made you scream. 

~

The Red Hair Pirates were in various stages of wakefulness now, but many were already drinking, laughing, and singing as if the night had never ended.

Shanks moved through them with an effortless joy, clasping hands, patting backs, laughing and joking with every crew member that wasn’t still passed out. 

That dingy table. Mismatched chairs. Surprisingly good food. 

A knee that kept brushing against yours, rubbing along your thigh everytime he turned to talk to you.

He was pushing all the boundaries. And you’d let him. You pulled him in last night, and now he was playing, testing, torturing you.

But you knew he would stop if you asked. 

How can I trust someone so fast?

“You wanted to talk about something,” he asked, leaning back after his last bite. 

His wicked grin made you regret asking to speak in private. 

~

Warm sand slowly shook from your feet as you crawled over rough stone. Shanks whined a few more times after you led him away from camp, but soon he was walking beside you, with another breathtaking smile. Now and then over the gentle waves, you swore you heard him humming the notes to a song. 

“Y/N, look at this one,” he laughed, pointing to another tide pool. 

You sat on the rock beside it, the hint of a smile on your lips as he joined you. 

So close.

“So what did you wanna talk about,” he asked, voice still soft like those soothing waves. He reached out to hand you a little stone he’d picked up. 

The warm stone fell into your palm, helping you stay present as you rolled it between your fingers.

“What are you doing on my island,” you questioned, finally meeting those pretty eyes. “You said you have business here, and I need to know that you aren’t endangering my home.”

“Endanger–,” he cut himself off with a laugh, his brows furrowing as he shook his head at you. “You didn’t need to make up excuses if you wanted to spend the day with me, fish girl.”

“Shut up,” you growled, fighting not to let his annoying charms distract you this time. “You’re pirates. You said you had business on this side of the island for three days. What are you doing here?”

“I did say ‘business,’ didn’t I,” he mused, nodding to himself before looking across the beach.

“Well,” you pushed, struggling as he met your eyes, his face so relaxed, amused.

“This is it,” he gestured vaguely, his crooked smile giving you a headache.

“What do you mean? You mean your business is here, at this beach?”

“No, Y/N,” he rasped, grabbing your hand and squeezing it, the little stone pressing into your palm. “This is it.”

He nodded toward the camp, and let out a sigh.

“We’re on vacation.”

This smile of his made him look like a little kid that got caught stealing sweets. You blinked at him.

After a long pause, he took his hand from yours, bringing it to your chin to push your mouth closed.

“Don’t fucking mess with me.”

Your voice came out rough as you pushed yourself back, almost slipping into a tide pool as you stood.

“I swear I’m not messing with you,” he let out with a small groan as he stood. He moved in close before he wobbled his head back and forth. “Well, I’m not messing with you about that.”

“Fuck you,” you seethed, head going foggy with the overwhelming flood of emotions from the last day.

Shanks moved in slowly with his arm outstretched as if he were trying to calm a frightened animal. Or a child.

And you acted like a child, frustrated tears burning in your eyes, hitting your fists against his chest as he got too close.

“Stop lying to me! Please don’t hurt people here, please don’t–”

“Shh, shh,” he hushed you gently, somehow managing to hold you against him with one arm, your hands shaking between your warm bodies.

“We’re not here to hurt anyone. I swear on my life, and the lives of my crew. All we wanna do is relax until we have nothing left to drink. Then we’ll buy up all the booze your village has to sell, and be on our way. Plus food and whatnot, but–”

Your ragged breaths brought that spicy scent of him into your lungs, your forehead falling against his chest as you started to calm. A bit.

“Are you telling me,” you growled against his skin, “that you took me hostage while you all go on a three day bender?”

You felt his laugh as he held you to him, resting his cheek on your head for a moment before releasing you. 

“We didn’t take you hostage. You paid for a ride.” He held up his hand as your mouth opened, itching to argue.

“Besides, fish girl,” he teased gently, “after hearing your story last light, it sounds like you could use a vacation too. When’s the last time you had any fun?”

“I have fun, asshole. Quit changing the subject.”

“Lying’s bad for the soul,” he hummed, touching the tip of your nose again. 

The energy drained from your body, and you left him to climb off the rock, falling onto your back in the sand. 

“So what do you do for fun?”

Shanks’ husky voice rolled over you. You didn’t need to open your eyes to know that he’d sat behind your head, leaning over your face as he spoke.

“I’ll have fun once I get off this shitty island.”

Finally, the pirate stayed quiet. Waiting. Until those rough fingers smoothed the hair from your face.

You didn’t stop him as he traced along your skin, letting relaxation wash over you. He moved from your temples, your cheeks, your jaw, behind your ears. Making sure to move his hand to both sides, evening out his slow caresses. 

“I don’t want to be here anymore,” you confessed, fighting the heat of tears rising in your throat. You rolled that little stone in your fingers, the motion soothing your nerves. 

“Why’s that?”

“... Because I’m ‘Fish Girl.”

Shanks paused, and you wondered if he’d stifled a laugh. 

“What do you mean,” he asked, voice like the gentle waves just a few paces away.

It all came spilling from your lips. He listened to everything, fingers still tracing your skin. 

All the pain. Your mom leaving you with grandma, never coming back. You were so young, and it didn’t feel that bad at the time. You didn’t understand.

Grandma would tell you stories, you’d sit together on her boat for hours and hours. She taught you how to fish before you were strong enough to reel anything in. 

“That sounds wonderful,” he said, his voice somehow telling you there was a smile on his face. 

“It was. But kids are mean. I didn’t know we were poor until I went to school. I didn’t know I stank all the time until they called me ‘fish girl.”

His fingers tensed on your skin, a guilty pause before he kept up his soothing touch. 

“I never relax. I’m always working because I want a better life. All those mean kids grew up with me in our shitty little village. A few have tried to connect now that we’re older, but I don’t feel like it. I’m still 'fish girl.”

Shanks started to speak, but you cut him off. 

“I know they were just kids, but they were brutal. I was a kid too, and I could never imagine hurting anyone the way they hurt me. I don’t want to be friends with those people.”

“I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

A heavy sigh left your lips, then a small gasp as his hand moved to the side of your neck, the touch of those fingers more satisfying than anything you could remember.

“Fishing used to be something I loved. But since grandma’s been gone, I can only bring in half of what we used to. It’s not enough to save anything. I wanted to sell that stupid fish so bad,” you admitted with a laugh, a deep hum coming from the listening pirate. 

“Where do you wanna go,” he asked, his fingers trailing into your hair.

“I want to go somewhere where I can love fishing again. I want to live stories like grandma did. I want to be a fisherwoman. I don’t want to be ‘fish girl’ anymore.”

The loss of his touch was heavier than you expected. 

“Come on.”

You opened your eyes to meet his, shining at you over his outstretched hand.

Tucking the stone in your pocket, you let him help you up, surprising yourself with a laugh as he shook the sand from your hair. 

“Well, I’d say you deserve a vacation. What do ya say?”

Laughing at his silly wiggling eyebrows, you nodded, giving a breathy “okay,” as he took your hand. 

He leaned over you as you walked, sending shivers across your skin as his breath touched your ear. 

“Fisherwoman is a mouthful, so I’m gonna keep calling you ‘damsel.”

“No, you won’t,” you commanded. You cursed at him as he giggled, dropping your hand to run toward the camp.

“You sound like you’re in distress, do you need help,” he yelled back.

“I’m gonna fucking kill you!”

You chased his laughing form until he slowed, grinning at you as he started to walk backwards. 

The look on his face when you launched yourself at him would be seared into your mind forever. You both grunted as he toppled onto his back, his arm hanging onto your waist as you fell together. 

The look on his face with you straddling him in the sand was even better.

Your hands had planned to slap him, but those eyes, those lips, and that look of joyful surprise did you in. 

That gentle hand fisted roughly into your hair as you crashed your lips onto his. A quiet, needy moan left your throat, and his answering growl made your eyes roll back. 

Thunderous cheers erupted from the crew, and you almost looked up at the camp until his fingers gripped your hair tighter, making your thighs clench around his waist. 

He pulled you away gently, his parted lips and near frantic eyes matching yours. 

“You sure,” he checked in, voice barely audible over the singing and shouting pirates. “Let’s get away from the crowd.”

Shanks kept looking over at you, that crooked smile following you back to the ship. He kept asking what you’d like to do, where you’d like to go.

“These clothes are sandy,” you noted, your voice low. “We should go to your room to change.”

He came in for a kiss, his deep voice rolling over you. 

“We’re sandy too. We should probably shower.”

“Okay,” you agreed, melting under his dark eyes.

He pushed your sandy hair aside when you reached the door to the bathing room, kissing and nibbling from the crook of your neck to your ear, holding your waist as your knees went weak. 

“Should we take turns guarding the door,” he rasped while your hands smoothed over the muscles around his waist and lower back. 

“No.”

Practically stumbling through the door as you tried to keep touching each other, you stood in the center of that tiled room, and tore the clothes off of each other's skin. 

There were no worries in your mind right now, just the electric touch of his hand and lips over each part of your body as it was revealed. 

You cried out as you felt the hard length of him through his pants before you'd freed him from the fabric. 

“You want me that much already, sweetheart?”

The urge to bicker was overridden as you pulled his pants from his skin, his thick cock springing up toward his stomach. 

The need to touch him overwhelmed you, and you wrapped your hands around him, loving the moan he let out at your touch. 

“Let’s shower, damsel,” he choked out as he kissed your cheek. “I need to bring you to the bed, now.”

That delicious smelling soap coated your skin, giving you an excuse to explore as you washed each other’s bodies. With as much of the sand and soap gone as possible, Shanks pushed you against the wall, his fingers traveling up your thigh.

“I thought you said you’re bringing me to the bed?”

“Just a minute,” he pleaded, teasing fingers until you nodded. 

“Still this wet after washing it all away?”

Those rough fingers rubbed along your clit, his name dropping from your lips in needy moans. 

“Mm, keep saying my name like that, beautiful,” he rasped, plunging in one finger, then two as your back arched against the cool, tile wall. 

“Shanks, please…”

“Please what? What does my damsel need?”

“Take me– fuck. Take me to bed.”

You gasped as his fingers left you, finding his mouth as he sucked the taste of you off of his skin. 

He tossed you a towel, kicking the clothes into a corner.

“Come on.”

“Wait,” you called, rushing to that pile of sandy fabric.

His crooked grin made you blush as he watched you grab that silly little stone. 

“Come on,” he whispered onto your lips after pulling you into a deep kiss.

A trail of water followed your path, practically running and gasping with laughter all the way to his quarters.

He didn’t get you lost this time.

Now he was the one calling for you to wait as your hand reached for the door.

“We don’t have to do anything, Y/N. We can still relax and have fun together. Please, tell me if you’re not comfor—“

“Take me to bed, Captain,” you demanded, walking through the door before him.

The only answer he gave was to slam it closed, then wrap himself around your back, kissing your neck until you moaned. 

“Shanks…”

“Yes, sweetheart,” he said before licking and nibbling at your earlobe.

“I don’t know,” you laughed, arching against him. “I just wanted to say your name.

The deep rumble that came through his chest had that pressure building in your core. His hand grasped yours, until you opened to give him the stone.

You stood smiling with your eyes closed until he pressed himself against your back again.

He pulled at your damp towel, then trailed that perfect hand down the front of your body, feeling everywhere he’d touched under that warm water and delicious soap.

Those fingers found you again, slipping easily in the dripping mess he’d already made of you. 

“Mm, so wet. So good for me, aren’t you, beautiful?”

All you could do was whimper as he circled your clit, until you cried out at the towel covered press of him along your ass.

“Please…”

“What darlin’? Tell me what I can do for my damsel?”

His raspy voice was too much, and you gasped as he palmed your needy pussy to hold you up as your knees went weak.

He chuckled in your ear as he kept grinding the meat of his palm against you. 

“Please, Y/N, please tell me what you need. I’ve got you.”

His whisper brought desperate tears prickling in your eyes until you could finally speak.

“Fuck me now, Shanks. Fuck right fucking now, or I’ll never forgive you.”

He grabbed you, easily moving your weight with one hand until you fell back onto the edge of the bed. 

He left you then, digging though his desk, tossing things out of drawers in a frantic search.

“I said right fucking now,” you demanded, still breathless.

“Yes, but—“

“I’m on birth control. Now hurry up before I find another pirate—“

Your sentence ended in a yelp as he pounced on you, his thick cock rubbing through your folds as he ate your moans. 

“Don’t go saying shit like that again,” he rasped as his dark eyes bore down on yours.

“You’re the one who keeps calling me damsel. If you’re not going to help me—“

A filthy moan left your lips as he guided his tip to rub circles over your clit. 

“Oh, I’ll be helping you plenty, don’t worry sweetheart,” he promised, this dark smile of his going in your list of favorites.

“What was that you said about ‘right fucking now,” he taunted, giving you no time to brace for the press of him.

He worked his way in slowly, putting your leg over his shoulder while he watched your face. 

“How’s that sweetie,” he teased, his own voice breathy and desperate now as his hips finally met yours. “Is this what my girl needed?”

“Fuck, Shanks. Fuck me please.”

“You are a very demanding woman, you know that?”

Any retort you would have had died in your throat as you screamed, his deep thrusts making your toes curl.

“So fucking gorgeous. Gods, Y/N, you take my cock so well.”

Shanks gripped your thigh against his chest, pressing it to him until he locked you into place.

“Oh right there, sweetheart? I’ll help my pretty girl right there, just say my name again.”

He hit that sweet spot inside you over and over as if it belonged to him, claiming it, taking it back. Every word from his lips felt like vibrating pleasure down your skin, and in no time at all, you were screaming his name, arching your back against those red sheets as you fell apart.

He fucked you through your orgasm, sweet praise almost impossible to understand as your mind disappeared.

“You feel so good coming on my cock, you made such a beautiful mess. You're gonna go again for me now, okay?”

He chuckled at the pathetic whine from your lips, but never stopped his rhythm. 

“Please, pretty damsel? I helped you out. Now let me watch those dainty fingers on your clit. Let me feel you milk my cock one more time before I fill you up.”

He moaned along with you as your body clenched around his. 

You couldn’t argue with that heated smile. His hungry eyes watched your fingers slide over your clit, scraping his lip between his teeth as he tightened his arm around your thigh.

“Just like that. Let me see my girl come on my cock again. Fuck... You feel so good, so fucking good for me, baby.”

“Shanks, you feel… I’m close.”

“I know, sweetheart, can you feel me too? Come for me, I’m gonna— fuuckk…”

Shanks leaned over you, shoving himself as deep as he could go. Pleasure ripped through your body as you clawed at his back, more screams filling the air.

The sensation of both of you coming at once, your body milking his as he spilled ropes of heat inside you, had your mouth slack, body limp and useless as you twitched together.

Shanks leaned his forehead against yours, staying hilted within you as he caught his breath.

You gave him a droopy smile as he lifted his head, and he laughed before covering your face in kisses while you squirmed. 

This made both your bodies twitch again, moaning as he pulled himself out of you. 

He grabbed one of the damp towels as he knelt at the foot of the bed, kissing your thighs as he gently cleaned your sensitive skin.

“Stop,” you begged weakly as his soft touches across you body kept your aftershocks going.

The mattress shifted under his weight, bouncing you lightly until he pulled you up the bed onto his chest. His arm wrapped around you, still leaving lazy circles of touch across your back and hip.

“Now what,” you whispered, fighting to keep the real world from invading your brain.

“Anything my damsel wants,” he hummed, leaving a soft kiss against your still damp hair. “Your vacation’s only just started.”

Likes and reblogs bring me much ✨dopamine✨ thank you so much!

a/n: Hi, I have once again gone INSANE over another One Piece character. I need help. Someone please lock me away.

Tag List: @shewrites02 | @nothing-but-brass | @honeyoru | @onlyseob | @constawrites | @gingernut1314 | @i-am-vita | @laurelthesimp | @therealsatorugojo | @jadeddangel

Part 3

| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 | ko-fi |

#shanks x reader #red haired shanks #x reader #reader insert #fem!reader #one piece x reader #one piece fics #turtletaub fics #follower celebration #fic requests #mine #fluff #one piece fluff #shanks fluff #shanks fics #shanks smut #one piece smut #smut #use of y/n

[anemptypuddingcup]

Cookie muncher.

Luffy x Female Reader

Smut short.

It began to grow colder and snow fell from the sky. The seasons were growing colder and everyone was ready and eager for that warm smell of cinnamon sugar and chocolate.

Everyone on the Sunny was asleep which allowed you to sneak into the kitchen and bake a bit of treats for your crew members. When it came down to that thought, you knew the treats would damn near be gone as you lay the tray out onto the Sunny’s kitchen table. Especially with your boyfriend who wouldn’t stop eating even if his stomach had popped.

You already had all of your supplies and things in motion in the kitchen, all you had to do was wait a bit as to make sure Luffy was in a deep state of sleep. Once he was, you just slowly slipped out of Luffy’s arms and out of the bed. You reach for your robe and threw it on, tying the sash tight around your bare waist before stepping out of your bedroom. You slowly slipped on your slippers before walking out of your shared bedroom.

Your slippers slide along the floorboards as you crept down the stairs, your warm breath throwing fog out into the cold and chilly air. You shudder but sigh with a smile, your robe being the only thing to keep you warm for the time being. You slowly open the kitchen door, lighting up a lantern and setting it on the table so a large amount of light wouldn’t alert anyone who woke up and stumbled past the kitchen.

Taking out your ingredients and materials needed, you roll up your sleeves and begin fixing up the dry ingredients.

While mixing up the dry and wet ingredients, the sound of the kitchen door opening startles you and causes you to freeze in place. A sleepy groan echoes into the kitchen and the light flickers on to reveal your rubbery boyfriend Luffy.

“Mmgh? Dumplin’? Are ya in here?~” He groans out sleepily, his hand rubbing his eye as he tried his best to get the grogginess out of it. “Baby, turn the light back out for me okay?” You tell him softly, continuing to mix up the ingredients and fixing the cookie dough. Luffy obeys and turns the light back out, the sound of his sandals slowly stumbling over to you before he lays his head to your shoulder and wrap his arm around your waist.

“What’re ya doin’?…It’s lateee…” Luffy sighs out, his body softly pressing against your as he watches you do your thing. You chuckle and turn to him, still mixing the cookie dough and trying your best to even out the ingredients. “I’m baking cookies baby, hand me that bag of chocolate chips over there for me~” You tell him, stopping your movements and moving your sticky hands from the bowl.

Luffy stretches his arm over and across to the counter, grabbing the bag of chocolate and handing it to you. You sprinkle a handful of chips in the dough before kneading the mixture one more time and walking over to the kitchen. Luffy followed you, watching you all groggily as you washed your hands and walk back over to the fridge. You pull out some butter and spread it across the baking sheet and shaping the cookie dough into little spheres.

As you placed the cookie spheres onto the tray, Luffy took a few and ate them a chuckle leaving his lips as the slight crunch of the chocolate chips and sugar echos through his chewing. You place more down and he continues to eat more, causing you to stop your movements.

“Luffy baby, stop eating the cookie dough. If you keep eating it there ain’t gon’ be any cookies left to bake.” You groan out with a laugh, pulling the baking sheet from him. Luffy groans out sleepily, stretching his neck and reaching for another bite. You grips his neck tightly and he lets out little choking noises before a moan followed. “O-Oi- Oi! Baby- Let go of m’neck~” Luffy huffs out, pressing his thick hands to your shoulders and trying to pull his head back.

“Stop eatin’ the cookie dough then. I’ll let you lick the bowl okay?” You chuckled to him before letting go. His head snaps back like rubber and he pout and rubs his neck. You walk over to the oven and slowly setup the rest of the dough onto the baking sheet. Luffy pulls himself up onto the table and watches you slide the sheet into the oven, the oven already preheated before he walked in.

He yawns sleepily and looks at the bowl of left over cookie dough before reaching his hand for the bowl and scarfing down the cookie dough. He licks the bowl clean and lays it back onto the table, waiting for you to just walk back over to him. “Alright Luffy, go on and head back to bed. I’ll sit here and watch the cookies.” You tell Luffy, walking back over to him. “But ion wanna sleep without yaaaa~ Lemme sit here w’ya…” Luffy says, jumping off of the table and wrapping his arms around you.

You smile sweetly and nuzzle against his chest, inhaling his scent while he held on tight to you. You look up into his sleepy eyes and he looks down at you, giving you a sleepy little smile. He moves in closer to you before giving you a smooch to your lips, a heavy breath leaving him before he pulled back.

“Can’ we go back in th’room baby?…” Luffy asked, his hands sliding into your robe and feeling your soft skin. “I have to watch the cookies baby…” You whisper to him, your hands sliding up to his shoulders as you moved in closer to him. Luffy huffs out and grabs your thighs before pulling you up, making you let out a little yelp.

“Well…Can we do sum while we wait for ‘em…?” Luffy asked, pressing a few smooches against your neck before sliding his lips down your soft skin. You mewl out as he lays you onto the table. You pout as he presses his soft bulge in between legs and sigh out sweetly before nodding, your hands moving away from his shoulders.

“Spread out on th’table f’me.” Luffy huffs out, flipping you over and out onto the table. You untie the sash on your robe and Luffy slowly pulls it open, moaning out a bit as he stared down at your pretty body. “Naughty gal’ ain’t ya? Ya don’ have any clothes on unda here…” Luffy hums out, with him pressing soft smooches along the valley of your breasts. You mewl out as he suckles on your soft skin, running his rough fingers along your nipples and the soft flesh of your breasts.

His lips trails down your tummy and down to your pussy and he wastes no time latching his mouth onto your clit, sliding his flat tongue along your sensitive pearl while you spread your legs open a bit for him. You moan out softly, trying to suppress your sounds while he smooched and kiss at your pretty pussy.

You whine and moan out as you felt him tease your entrance with his tongue, prodding at your folds while a little chuckle leaves his lips. He slides his tongue past your entrance, lift your hips up so he could get a better angle at your sweetest spots. “L-Luffy~” You gasp out, your brows furrowing as the pleasure began to swallow you up. Luffy circles his thumb along your clitoris, pinching and rubbing it while his tongue rubs along your gummy walls and against your g-spot.

Your hands balls up into fists as you bit your lip, your eyes rolling a bit as you felt him hit your g-spot once again. You huff and whine out, your hips grinding into his lips a bit while he groans out and chuckles. Your nose catches the sudden scent of the chocolate chip cookies in the oven, the sweet scent filling your nostrils while the pleasure was overwhelming and melting your mind.

The strong aroma of the cookies causes Luffy to grow more feral and he begins to groan out before shoving his face deeper into your pussy. His nose kisses your clit while he shoved his tongue farther inside of you, making you gasp out suddenly before letting out a soft hiss. Your toes curls as the pleasure made you grow hot, your skin growing sticky with sweat while you mewl out. “F-Fuck Luffy baby~ A-Ah~ Y-You’re gonna make me cum~” You whine out, arching your back as you felt your tummy growing warm.

Luffy’s brows furled as he groans out, shoving your body farther up the table and desperate for your orgasm. You huff out and let out a sudden cry as you felt his tongue stretch farther inside of your pussy. His tongue was practically abusing your g-spot as he chases your high, trying to just take your orgasm from you. “Mmgh!~ M-M’so close Luffy~” You mewled, shutting your eyes as you let out a little squeak of pleasure. Luffy hums out, a little moan following as he hugs your hips and pulls you farther against his face.

“L-Luffy! M-Mmgh!~ Luffy!~” You gasp out and threw your head back as you cream out into his tongue, a heavy whine leaving your lips as you squirmed and grind your hips against his tongue to ride out your orgasm. Luffy moans as he slurps up your cum, the taste making him shudder before he sighs out in delight. He finally pulls back, his mouth and chin a sticky mess as he pull away from you.

A string of slick and cum disconnects from your pussy and his lips and he sighs out as he lays his head against your thigh. His thumb rubs tiny circles along your overstimulated clit, making you mewl out softly while your legs twitched a bit.

Luffy lifts his head and gets a heavy whiff of the cookies before looking over to the over. “Baby, I think th’cookies are done.” Luffy whispers to you, looking down at your sleepy expression. “T-Take them out f’me L-Luffy~” You mewl out softly, a heavy breath leaving your lips as your as your struggled to move. Luffy’s looks back at the oven and then back at you before pulling you up off the table and into his arms.

He walks you over to the oven and rests you onto the counter before opening the oven. “Please grab the mitts first Luffy…” You sigh out, knowing that he was about to grab the cookie sheet without the mitts. Luffy look up at the counter and grabs the mitts before taking the cookies out and throwing them onto the stovetop. He closes the oven and scratches his head before looking back at you.

“Turn the oven off baby…Turn that knob.” You tell him, pointing to the knob. Luffy obeys and turns the knob, a clicking sound following as the oven light turns off. You slowly slide yourself off of the counter, tying your sash back before walking over to him. Luffy immediately reaches out to grab a cookie by you slap his hand away. “No no, you can’t touch any of the cookies, they’re for tomorrow.” You tell him, sliding the cookies off of the sheet and into a bowl before taking them to the fridge.

Luffy pouts and you pat his head. “How about I make you your own batch tomorrow~ How does that sound my big baby?~” He asked, booping his nose while he stared at you. He smiles widely and nods, wrapping his arms around you before picking you up.

“Can we go back ta th’room now?~” He asked, laying his head against your breasts. You sigh out and giggle to him, your hand playing with his raven curls. “Yes baby, we can go back now~” You whisper to him, pressing a smooch to his temple.

#puddingcupimagines #puddingchristmascarols #one piece #one piece smut #one piece fluff #op smut #op fluff #one piece x female reader #one piece luffy #op luffy #luffy smut #luffy fluff #monkey d luffy #luffy x female reader

[vampyrsm]

‣‣ COR UNUM: CHAPTER SIXTEEN | SUIJIN

‣‣ Synopsis: The Tale of the exiled ex-Shogun's daughter continues with the current Shogun demanding more answers, and going to extreme lengths to do so. And miles away, blood is spilt and someone is taken hostage in the dead of night.

‣‣ Main Masterlist | AO3 ‣‣ Pairing: Sukuna x Reader ‣‣ Word Count: est. 6.6k ‣‣ Warnings: Blank blogs & Minors DNI. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat. Set in the Early-Heian Period, trueform!Sukuna, female reader, cannibalism, descriptions of torture, waterboarding, near-death experience, Shogun has his own warning (again), blackouts, misogynistic views, death, cursed energy usage.

Hands that belong to people you don’t know grab and pull you around, they pinch and slap at skin that shouldn’t be tainted by their filthy hands. And yet, you find yourself unable to fight back when you’re forced flat onto a wooden table that had been dragged into your cell at some point. Panic floods you instantly but your head feels as if it’s been filled with cotton—what did they do to you in your sleep?

A face appears above your own, and you have just enough strength to flinch away from the proximity of the Shogun’s face. “What a sorry state you’re already in. You must truly be weak.” 

Your tongue is too thick in your mouth to voice your argument, so instead you draw your cheeks in and spit with all your might. It lands with a gross splat on his mouth, but he does not falter. Instead, a hand is raised and struck in the same move. It stings against your cheek, against the wounds there that are still so raw. 

“Worry not, dear niece. We’ll correct your behaviour, but first I want to revisit the questions you refused to answer four days ago.”

Four days. You had no idea so much time had passed, you hoped Sukuna was still nowhere near—you didn’t want him to fall for the trap they were setting up for him here. 

The Shogun stands to his full height, hands tucked behind his back in a stance you’d seen your father take so many times. “Hold her firmly, the human body even as weak as hers will react strongly to what is to come.”

Four sets of hands are pressed into your skin, at your wrists and ankles and even at your shoulders and thighs. Their hands are unpleasant in the way they hold you, as if they had a claim over your body. It makes you sick.

Your Uncle is gone from your vision for a moment before he reappears, handing something over to the man at your shoulders. A cloth is placed over your face, flat to your skin until you’re forced to open your mouth to gasp for breath. 

“A taste first, of what’s to come if you refuse to answer this time.”

You hear something moving, a sloshing of water and your blood runs as cold as the snow you know to cap the mountains outside. No, you try to scream and shake your head but the hands holding you tighten at the sudden surge in your strength. No—

Water is poured onto your face, and you can’t help but inhale deeply, reflexively. It burns at your nose and your throat, your body working hard to try and expel the water that’s poured over the cloth on your face. It feels like you’re drowning, the air in your lungs doesn’t feel like it’s enough and it’s only a matter of time before they seize working all together.

The water is pulled back quickly, and you’re able to suck in a deep breath despite the wet cloth still dripping streams of water into the back of your throat. You choke, coughing hard enough to cause your body to move painfully upwards. The hands on your body force you back down.

“Now. I think you’ll do well to answer my questions this time, or you will die in this cell. I’ll feed your body to the curses after my men are done with you.” 

The cloth is pulled from your face, and you blink harshly at the sudden shift in light. More lanterns had been lit for the convenience of the Shogun. The man before you laughs, snickering at the redness of your eyes and the tears that stain your skin. Weak, he had called you, perhaps you truly are.

“Tell me what he did to you.” The Shogun starts, tilting his head to stare at you more directly. “I know he tainted you, but how? Tell me, and I’ll try to fix you.” 

You shake your head no—you didn’t want to be fixed. The Shogun seemed to expect that answer, as he does not crumple his face in anger and instead nods his head to the man holding the cloth. It’s stretched painfully across your face and this time you suck in a deep breath.

But it’s all for nothing when he pours the water over your face again, the cold water stings violently at the back of your throat once again. He must’ve tipped the bucket with more precision this time, as you can’t help but force out the deep breath you were holding and in turn, choking violently on the water.

Your head feels fuzzy, your ears ringing and your throat tightening with each second that passes by with your own uncle waterboarding you. You feel your body surge upwards, the arch of your back painful yet nothing compared to the lack of oxygen that shocks pins and needles through your body.

The cloth is removed, as is the stream of water and you twist your body quickly. The men had allowed it, perhaps they saw the sickly sweat that stuck to your skin before you expelled whatever was left in your stomach. You had not eaten, nor drank, anything that came out was acidic enough to burn at your already torn throat. 

“Filthy pig.” Your Uncle comments when you’re forced to lay back flat, you can hardly see him through the black spots that dance in your eyes. “How many sorcerers are under his control?” 

You don’t even know if you can recall the number of people who worship Sukuna or work beside him. He had never disclosed that number to you, you didn’t know—so you shake your head, lips tingling and throat protesting when you try to voice the fact you truly had no idea.

Except, your uncle views it as a refusal to answer. “You’re as stubborn as your father. It’s what got him killed. If he just killed you when he was asked. We wouldn’t be here!” He snaps and the cloth covers the pain that flits across your face.

You don’t try to hold your breath this time, you try to relax your muscles but it’s all for nothing when the water comes. The hands holding the cloth to your face hold it more harshly to your skin, the cotton of the cloth digs into your flesh until everyone in the room can see your fruitless attempts of trying to gasp for air.

The back of your head painfully tingles, that darkness within you is utterly silent as you approach the cold hands of death. Water continues to pour over your face, drowning you with each passing second. If he doesn’t pull back soon, you were going to black out. Your brain was nothing but fuzz at this point, the ringing in your ears loud enough to drown out the snickers of the men holding you down.

“Perhaps that is enough, General.” A voice cuts through the ringing, Sugawara, you recognise that voice. The water is pulled away as is the cloth, and you can see the aforementioned man standing on the other side of the table across from the Shogun. “I was promised a bride. I will not have her brain damaged.” 

The room bristles at the tone Sugawara takes with the Shogun. Your Uncle finally cracks his mask of indifference, a nasty snarl fitting of a maddened man. “You do not order me around, Michizane.” 

“Of course not, my Lord. But if we are to have children, strong children, she has to be of sound mind.” 

Only silence is the reply to Sugawara, the bucket smashing against the stone floor before the Shogun storms out of the cell with the men who had been holding you down. You gasp finally, your lungs painfully expanding in an attempt to suck up as much oxygen as possible—as if they might come back and finish the job.

Hands grab at your shoulders, and reflexively you flinch away at the touch. Sugawara appears in front of your face, eyebrows drawn together in what may just be faux concern. “Don’t fight me, I saved your life.” 

His hands are hot against your skin, pulling and pushing you until you’re slumped onto the ground once again. Your vision swims with the motion, and Sugawara crouches in front of you again. “Rest.”

You can’t fight him on the need to sleep, and against your better judgment, you let your eyes roll closed.

...

Sometime later, you awoke. You could no longer feel the cold. The stone beneath you was as cold as ice itself, it bit at the soles of your feet and dug itself into your bones until they became too rigid to move lest they ache more. 

Time had moved differently in the damp darkness of the cell, there was no sunlight, no changing of the guard to tell you if it was day or night.

Instead, you had only the darkness and the oil in a lamp that never seemed to run out. Or perhaps it did, you had patches of darkness in your mind. Corroded away from their attempts to drown, you had no recollection of the voices who taunted you but you could see their faces when you closed your eyes. The Shogun’s face at the front of them, he would be first to receive your anger.

You dreamt of them all in those moments of reprieve. You dreamt of what it would be like to sink your fingers into their flesh, to tear it apart with your bare hands and devour them whole. You wanted to know if they screamed just as loudly as they did in your dreams, or if they’d die silently. Dignified. You hoped not, you wouldn’t grant them the chance to go quietly. They’d suffer as you have. 

Time had shifted once again, and your eyelids were barely open as you watched the dim glow of blue eyes just in front of you. Sugawara had been there consistently, never leaving even when he had to eat. Of course, he never gave you any of his own food, in fact, you haven't eaten a single thing since you left Sukuna. Your stomach had stopped aching a while ago, and now it feels like you were being eaten from the inside out.

Sugawara moves your arms carefully, as if he hadn’t been present when they started to take strips of your skin to see just how quickly you could heal even when restricted. It was fast enough to ensure you didn’t die from shock or blood loss, but the scars. The scars remained. Angry and puffy, a clear sign of their pleasure and your failure. 

Something clicks around your neck, and that familiar burning at your wrists blossoms at the nape of your neck instead. You can only blink in mild surprise at the coldness of the metal he had snapped around your neck, the chain is just as long as the ones that had been at your wrists. You could move freely, if you had the strength to do so.

Instead, you remain still as Sugawara finally takes a step back from you. And you meet his gaze, his eyes are saturated with something like sadness perhaps. Did he finally regret not choking you to death just mere days ago? You hoped so. You hoped he died with regrets, you hoped he would return to this world as nothing but a curse. You wanted him to rot.

“Heal.” He commands, and you want to roll your eyes at him. Yet your eyes do not move, and he visibly flinches at what he must see stirring in your eyes. You can feel it preening beneath your skin at the reaction, that raging darkness that bares its teeth and flexes its claws. “Heal or you won’t live to see tomorrow.”

A threat that falls flat against your face, it does nothing to deter you from glaring at him with a look only Death could hope to muster. That darkness inside swirls once again and you feel the warmth before you can stop it, it blooms beneath your skin and pulses against the exposed bones. They’d long grown infected, the smell had bothered you at first but even that you had grown numb to.

Skin moves, nerves reconnect and bones slowly retreat into their fleshy homes. It’s a relief to be able to move your fingers once again, the ache there came with not moving for so long but they feel better. They no longer burn or feel hot, they no longer leak puss. But there was something more beneath that warmth that healed your skin, you could feel the slice of something you hadn’t felt in days. 

Sugawara seems to realise it too, but he’s too late. You attack first, the shackle at your neck burns until you can feel the skin bubble and melt away but that doesn’t stop you. You throw your arm forward, your fingers splayed wide and the burst of energy that comes forth is gratifying, to say the least. It rumbles in the air, slicing without remorse. 

It collides with Sugawara hard enough to throw him backwards, the metal bars of your enclosure vanish into small diced cubes. You only had a matter of seconds before those doors at the top of the stone stairs burst open with men determined to behead you before you could cause any more chaos. 

You bring a hand up to the neck shackle, your fingers sinking into the small gap between skin and metal. It’s a tight fit, and you can feel the burn of the talisman inscription on the inside. It had been imbued at some point but it wasn’t enough to stop the resurgence of power. The twin shackles that were on your wrists must’ve been newer, more potent in their nullification. 

The metal burns hotter when you begin to pour your energy into it, to overload it with both heat and a precise amount of energy that would slice through the shackle—and not your own neck. It bends beneath your fingers, melting away until the hot metal drips and dribbles down the front of the pathetic excuse of a kimono you had been put in during your blackouts.

Something slams into your front, and your head snaps back against the stone wall. An arm presses into the shackle at your throat, crushing both your fingers and your throat in one go. Sugawara snarls in your face, eyes wide enough that you can see the blood vessels have popped. His cursed energy buzzes around him, an electrifying feeling that you had felt amid a thunderstorm.

It pulses to life with every passing second, and it’s suffocating. It makes you gasp and choke against the pressure on your throat, your fingers pinned to the talisman scripture on the inside of the shackle become victim to that same heat. 

You can feel the flesh melting into nothing but mangled stringy goop. It should be enough to make you stop, to concede and let whatever punishment is to come happen. But instead, you bare your teeth in return, and Sugawara visibly falters in front of you. Your teeth ache, and your gums burn something fierce. 

“You have no idea what he’s doing to you…” Sugawara breathes the words, but they only serve to make you throw your weight at him once again. His feet shift on the floor, and the tension in the air makes the hairs on your arms stand on end. “He’s turning—”

He stops flat. And you grin.

Your fingers sink into the material of his kimono against his side, and his cursed energy crackles at the intrusion of your fingers. Teeth are sharpened beneath your skin, they widen their maw—wider and wider until they clamp down on something. You can taste the fabric of his kimono, you can feel the warmth of his blood pooling in your stomach. 

Sugawara doesn’t breathe another word, his body thrown hard enough to the side that the wall concaves. His blood is warm against the palm of your hand, and when you glance down. You’re met with a wide mouth on your palm, with sharpened teeth—it holds a piece of flesh between its teeth, grinning at what it had taken from a man otherwise untouchable.

You’ve seen Sukuna’s second mouth in action, across his stomach, it was wide and impressive. This one is much smaller, and it’s not his teeth and lips that grin back at you. It’s your own. Those familiar teeth sink further into the flesh before it swallows the flesh whole, and it settles deep in your stomach. 

It satisfies that hunger deep inside of you, that swirling darkness purrs in delight of finally getting what it wanted after so long. Something buzzes at the back of your mind, like a hand of black claws that caresses down the top of your spine. He felt it. He felt that explosion of cursed energy, his own cursed energy being used and manipulated.

Sukuna knew.

Your joy is short-lived, however. Sugawara launches forward from the rubble, and you recognise the glint of firelight on a steel blade anywhere. You can’t move out of the way, the shackle at your throat is partially melted away but it still holds you in place when his blade strikes true. It glides across your stomach, digging past the cloth in a clean line and it slices deeply, cleanly. 

The blood pools warmly down your front, you bring the hand that previously housed the second mouth down to that opened wound. You wait for it to close, but it doesn’t—... It bleeds through your fingers, mixing with the blood of the blue-eyed Samurai until it is an uncomfortable thickening amount of blood.

Sugawara flicks the blade fluidly in an arc, your blood spraying across the floor. You finally glance at the blade itself, and the engraved words across the steel blade glow with a brightness you had seen from the man who had taken you down in the village. A cursed weapon. No doubt embedded with the same technique that was suppressing your cursed technique from the outside. 

It had struck you, had tasted your blood and frayed your skin as if it was made of silk. It burns. Like your insides have been set alight by an unstoppable fire, hotter than anything you had ever felt. It was unlike the real flames that had doused you when you trained with Sukuna, this was a blinding type of fire. A fire that judged, a fire that burned away sins and darkness.

Doors suddenly explode open, a flood of men with their swords drawn but they halt when Sugawara holds up a hand in their direction. His body is hunched over, blood pouring from the open wound on his side. 

“Tell the Shogun she can’t be reformed. She’s to be put in the disciplinary pit, and left there.” He commands, albeit breathlessly. His words sound wet even to himself, his tongue thick with blood and spit. He doesn’t have long until he passes out from the impact of being both bitten and having his Infinity shredded.

The men visibly hesitate, eyes darting between Sugawara who clutches his side with a growl and you, your eyes unfocused and dazed. You’d be struck with something life-ending, and now faced with your own mortality—you can’t feel a thing. Nothing but that incessant burning deep within your blood, ravaging its way up to your heart where it finds something much worse than the darkness of your mangled soul.

“NOW!” Sugawara barks, marching his way back towards you despite the wound on his side. He grabs the chain that was hoisting you up to the wall, the shackle digs further into the deep burns on your neck. 

“You had a chance to live, and you threw it away like the foolish woman you are.” His words are hissed in your face before he pulls you harshly forward, and you’re forced to hunch over at the pain that spreads up from your gut. Blood soaks your arms, drips along the floor in a steady flow as you’re forced to follow behind Sugawara.

Men of the Zen’in clan and the Shogunate all have their blades drawn when you pass by, none strike at you but you have a feeling they know they won’t need to. Not when you were to be put in something known as the ‘disciplinary’ pit. Admittedly, you had never heard of it. It was never in any literature and it certainly wasn’t mentioned when you were brought here by your father as a child.

The walk isn’t nearly as long as it was to the Shogun’s quarters, but as you grow closer to whatever the pit may be. Your stomach churns, you can feel a thrum of cursed energy coming from within that doesn’t belong to anyone living. It’s the type of energy that smells of rot and decay, it grasps at your throat and chokes you. 

Sugawara seems unperturbed by the fact he’s growing closer to what must be a multitude of cursed spirits, and you find yourself unable to fight him the closer you get to the pit. Your feet slide along the smooth stone, sliding in your own blood, if it weren’t for the chain at your neck—you would’ve fallen.

Another pull of the chain has you tugged forward until you’re in front of Sugawara, your front just mere inches away from his own. He sneers down at you along the length of his nose, those crystalline blue eyes alive with something you’ve come to recognise this far into life—hatred. 

Slowly, he starts to take steps forward and in turn, you’re forced to step backwards with him. “May you go with peace, and honour.” He speaks plainly and without emotion. “You were not given an easy life, and I hope in the next one, you’re free.” 

Sugawara plants a hand solidly against your chest, and the entire world shifts with the pressure. He falls away, or rather, it’s you who falls backwards. The air whooshes past your ears, drowning out the noise of your rushing blood and the undignified scream that comes from your throat.

You watch as Sugawara grows further and further away, the large doors closing behind him and with him goes the only light as you fall into an inky void of darkness.

...

“Izumi?” Yorozu calls out from the safety of her bedroom. Her attendant, Izumi, would typically come running at the sound of her voice but Yorozu finds that the woman hasn't so much as lit the hearth in the corner of her room. Immediately, her eyebrows draw together. 

Normally, Yorozu wouldn’t care about the absence of her attendant. Izumi often got punished for Yorozu’s behaviour; namely the fact she refused to dress appropriately no matter the company. But something was off tonight. The Five Empty Generals had regrouped back at the base of operations, a large estate that belonged to the Fujiwara family. 

Even the Sun, Stars and Moon squad had been called back in by the head of the family. Not entirely unheard of but certainly unusual, to have all of them in one place would mean unmeasured amounts of cursed energy concentrated in one spot—an easy way for cursed spirits, and much worse to find them without much effort.

Yorozu pouts at the lack of her attendant and pushes herself up from the futon. The haori she wears does nothing to hide her body, especially when she opts to keep it untied as she traverses the halls. 

It’s silent. An unnatural silence that causes the hairs on her arms to rise, she can’t sense anything—no unusual amounts of cursed energy, and that should’ve been the first warning sign. Something was off. Terribly so. Her bare feet are silent on the tatami mat, carrying her further and further into the large estate. 

All of them resided within one building, or rather, they all had living quarters here. Not many of them stayed here permanently, but Yorozu did. She had nowhere else to go, her life in Aizu was over and here she had proven her worth as someone strong. Someone worthy of being with the strongest. 

So, to not sense any of the other members who made up the Five Empty Generals was off-putting. Yorozu knew they were here, and yet. She follows the usual path that leads out of the estate, the faintest throb of cursed energy coming from outside.

The grand entrance doors are slow to open to the outside world, the night sky shimmers with stars and the moon hides behind white clouds. Yorozu comes to a slow stop at the top of the steps that lead down to the sandy courtyard, the path of stones soaked in crimson red. 

Her blood grows cold, her heart pattering against her ribcage uselessly. It was odd to feel this scared—it was unheard of for someone like Yorozu to feel something like fear. She didn’t feel fear when she fought the Five Empty Generals to gain her title, she didn’t feel fear when she stood in front of the Emperor when he gave his orders and she certainly didn’t feel fear when she wrapped her arms around Sukuna the first time she met him.

Crackling and popping has her head darting up, her eyes sharpening when she notices the pyre of brilliant flames burning near the bridge. A way of stopping her escape. 

“Admiring my work?” A voice speaks directly behind her, the husk of it a deep rumble that not even a slumbering dragon could replicate. Yorozu knows not to move, and to not look over her shoulder at the one and only Sukuna Ryomen.

“The Fujiwara Family are so feared all over Japan. The stories of the Five Generals being strong enough to overpower even the Emperor—” Sukuna laughs low in his throat, a condescending noise. “How foolish. They hardly put up a fight.” 

Yorozu remains frozen when a hand extends out from the darkness behind her, the large claws dripping with blood glinting in the shimmering moonlight. Sukuna merely gestures towards the fire in the distance before it grows brighter, more ferocious that even Yorozu can feel the heat from where she stands across the entrance courtyard. 

The fire moves as if it had a life of its own, it slithers over the top of the sand like a snake would. It creeps closer and closer until it hits something, and then it starts to crawl upwards. Yorozu feels her lungs squeeze tightly, her lungs expelling any breath she may have been holding when the scene is revealed to her in a show of fire.

In front of her are four posts, all of them spread equally and each of them holds one man. Their bodies have been torn and shredded, yet kept together by organs and bones that were exposed to the firelight. Yorozu couldn’t see their faces, but the extravagant Kabuto helmets hiding their faces were enough to tell her who exactly had been tied to large wooden posts with their own innards.

The Five Empty Generals. 

The fire continues to crawl up the wooden posts, burning across organs and stringy flesh. It’s enough to cause the pinned men to squirm and screams are muffled into their masks. A hand presses between Yorozu’s shoulder blades and she’s forced to take staggering steps down into the sand below. Her feet sink into the agglomerate mixture of blood and sand.

“I’ve always dreamed of taking on the strongest group of sorcerers in all of Japan.” Sukuna drawls as he takes heavy steps down the short stairs into the courtyard. “I always thought it’d be a special occasion, maybe they’d even be strong enough to kill me.” 

Sukuna laughs deeply at his last comment, passing by Yorozu to take a stand in front of the four men hitched to posts. His upper body is entirely exposed, the starkness of his tattoos glimmer in the firelight and Yorozu can spy all the blood and body matter sprayed across his body. He doesn’t seem the least bothered by it, in fact, he seems to be enjoying it more than anything. 

“It surprised me when I heard a mutt from Aizu challenged the Generals, appointed to be one of them to defend her home of Aizu.” Sukuna’s lips uptick at the mention of her home prefecture, and something like dread pools deeply in her stomach. “The village hardly stood a chance against Uraume. They said they all cried out for you, and yet you never came.”

“I didn’t care for them.” Yorozu brushes off, yet even she knows Sukuna can taste the tinge of guilt in the air. 

“No?” Sukuna grins, and there’s a heavy thud of something in the sand. Yorozu doesn’t want to look down, she doesn’t— “You didn’t care for the woman who stood by your side since you were born?”

“No.” Her voice wobbles against her own will and like the beast that he is, Sukuna latches onto it.

“Look at what your carelessness has caused.” He smiles through the words, and yet Yorozu holds his gaze. Fire like the one behind him sets his eyes ablaze. “LOOK!” 

His yell rips through the air, Yorozu visibly flinches at the sound of it and her eyes snap down to what had been thrown at her feet. Izumi’s lifeless eyes stare back at her, her head severed from her body and mouth agape in a permanent silent scream. 

Her stomach churns painfully, Izumi may have been the victim of Yorozu’s lack of decorum but she had been there, always. She was the one Yorozu cried to in the face of rejection, and she was there to lift the brunette back up. 

“She was nothing to me.” 

“You’ve always been a terrible liar.” Sukuna snickers to himself, head tilting to the side when Yorozu meets his gaze. “It’s why you would’ve made a terrible lover of mine.”

Yorozu bristles at his words, and the spike in her cursed energy has Sukuna raising an eyebrow in amusement. “You’re wrong.”

“Oh?” His upper arms cross lazily over the broadness of his chest, whilst the other two rest loosely at his hips.

“I never would’ve fallen for such an obvious trap, only a foolish whore—”

The world falls away, the moonlight painting itself across Yorozu’s face. Sukuna looms over her, fangs bared in a snarl befitting of the King of Curses. One hand remains wrapped around her throat, squeezing tight enough to turn her lips a blueish-purple.

“Utter one more word and you will die here.” The red of his eyes visibly shook beneath the weight of his anger, it was clear he had been reigning it in as best he could since he woke up alone in that temple of his. “I’ll find great pleasure in ripping you apart, slowly, piece by piece until you beg for me to kill you.”

“Do it.” Yorozu hisses through paling lips, her hand fruitlessly clawing at the hand at her throat. Sukuna snarls louder, the growl that rumbles through his chest enough to shake even the ground beneath them.

Then the growling stops, and he grins. All teeth and malice. “No. You’re going to be a welcome home gift for my wife.” 

With a quick pull on her neck, her body follows his momentum until her head collides with the floor beneath her and her eyes roll into the back of her head.

…Sukuna stands from Yorozu’s now still body, his eyes darting to the side to see Uraume approaching to take Yorozu as discussed. 

“Chain her to a post in the courtyard, by the tree. Keep her on the brink of death.” Sukuna instructs Uraume who then picks up Yorozu without much of a struggle, they bow as best they can with someone in tow before vanishing in a flurry of snowflakes and a gust of wind.

“I was wondering when you’d show yourself instead of cowering with your tail between your legs.” Sukuna remained staring at the space once occupied by Yorozu and Uraume, the air had become denser; heavier with cursed energy and yet they never came forth when Sukuna had leapt onto Yorozu.

“We didn’t want to interrupt.” A male calls out from somewhere behind Sukuna. He turns slowly, his feet digging into the bloodied sand beneath him. When he turns around, he’s met with multiple sets of eyes all turned to look at him. Sun-Moon-Stars, a fractured unit of assassins after you had wiped one from the slate of existence and another was eaten by Yuki Onna.

“More the merrier. Maybe it would’ve been fun to fight you all together.” Sukuna couldn’t help but lean into the fact he knew he was the strongest here, it was too easy to intimidate them with his cursed energy. He knew they weren’t quick to spook at the sight of the gore and horror show he made whilst waiting for Yorozu to crawl from hiding in her bedroom.

Sukuna’s ears perk up at the sound of multiple feet landing in the vicinity, ah, they brought out their lesser ranks in hopes of taking him down for good. The grin comes automatically to his face, all four eyes alight with pure unbridled joy—the prospect of fighting had been reduced to just training in the past few months, he may have enjoyed sparring with you but this… the chance to rip someone's life away was much more invigorating.

“It was rather cowardly of you to trick someone into their capture. Did you know you’d lose in a fight against her? Against me?”

Much to Sukuna’s surprise, one of the silhouetted figures laughs. “Perhaps. But we can’t be blamed for how stupid she was. We just took advantage of it.”

His blood boils beneath his skin, all four of his arms moving to flex his hands at his sides. The blood had long dried and cracked on his skin, the warmth radiating from him was hot enough to rival the still-burning pyre in the courtyard. Stupidity. They knew nothing of the word, evidently, as they stood before Sukuna in all his glory.

Muscles flex with each breath he draws in, the claws at his hands ache with the need to sink into human flesh and the prickle of his cursed energy in the palm of his hands yearns for more. And he will give it more.

Before any of them could move a muscle, Sukuna vanishes from the spot he’s in. He can taste the sudden spike of their own cursed energy, the fear that comes with being a mortal human tastes better than any meal he had ever feasted on. Immediately, he zones in on each and every single cursed signature in the area.

Twelve of them.

He laughs at that. Not enough.

With an outstretched hand, he palms the hand of the first face he comes in contact with. The masked man widens his eyes at the sudden appearance of Sukuna, the man with all four of his eyes wide and a manic laugh bursting from his throat. Oh, this was going to be fun. 

Skin bends beneath long claws, “Hah!” Sukuna exclaims as it was too late for the man to react. His body explodes into a bloody red mist, spraying into the sand below. He takes the next move in stride, his body swinging around on one heel and his foot collides head-on with a man who had dared to run at him.

The assassin’s body is sent flying into the trees dotted around the estate, the crack and splat of skin enough of a sign for Sukuna that they did not survive the hit or the fall. 

“Come on! You’ll never win coming at me one at a time!” Sukuna grins, the tongue at his stomach lolling out as that too grins at the tangible fear in the air. Two more rush at him, and he once again vanishes from the spot in a cloud of disturbed sand.

With two hands linked together over his head, Sukuna brings his entire weight back down onto the men beneath him. Flesh and bone are nothing in comparison to that of a chaotic disaster, blood explodes around him—a reminder that humans are nothing but sacks of blood. So pathetic…

The ground shatters beneath his feet, his hands that were cupped together splay out on the ground and the men approaching him are thrown into the air when the ground beneath them is upended. Something tingles at the back of his mind, and Sukuna almost startles at the sensation. 

Oh.

Time comes to a halt. Grains of sand float in the air, suspended in time and the men before him have no chance to correct their mistake. Most of them remain in the air, the others perched on the roof of the estate are midway through drawing their weapons. 

Humans are just as foolish as they are brave. 

Standing to his full height once again, Sukuna draws two hands together at his stomach in a hand sign to strengthen his technique. A binding vow he’s certain to inform you of when you return to him, he can’t have you losing another fight. The other two arms straighten out in front of him, energy bubbling at the tips of his fingers—with a final grin, Sukuna leans into the cursed energy he had come to know so intimately.

To use such a huge amount of cursed energy was something like a phenomenon, a moment in time where nothing quite feels right. As if the world scales tilt in the wrong direction, and it is Sukuna who holds that scale in his hand when he throws just a mere fraction of his strength forward.

The men who had been held in place by familiar cursed energy are sliced into nothing but meagre strips of their former selves. A mist of blood that sprays momentarily only to be swept away in the same breath. Cleave and Dismantle work in tandem, one slices and one cuts. Two entirely different things when it comes to Sukuna’s technique.

It’s absolute silence that follows the death of the men in front of him, before the area explodes. Debris from the estate is thrown into the air, shredded and turned into rubble before Sukuna has even released his next breath. The estate and all of the land before him is razed to the ground, and the bodies of those who may have been inside are nonexistent as are the ones outside. 

Sukuna stands alone once again, not so much as a scratch or a mere touch against his body from those who had come to fight him. Disappointment didn’t fill him however at the lacklustre fight, if anything, he was too distracted by that tingle at the back of his mind. 

He turns on his feet, facing towards the south. He felt something, at the moment of being allowed access to your cursed energy once again. He felt his own energy explode somewhere, hundreds of miles away but he felt it. 

And now he knew where you were. Alive and fighting. 

Sukuna spares no glance towards the destruction and abolishment of the Five Empty Generals as well as the Sun-Moon-Stars squad, they would go down in history as being a failed attempt on Sukuna’s life. 

A single step is taken before he vanishes from the spot he was in, whoever was holding you captive was surely to suffer the consequences of daring to lay a hand against what is his.

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#dead dove do not eat #cw gore #cw dark content #cw violence #tw cannibalism #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #jjk x reader

[fuumiku]

Day 2 : Role Swap

Ok I have thoughts for this one bear with me. He’s a mage with a half-foot guild still but his activism is especially targeted towards half-foot mages specifically since they’re rare and so looked down upon (and the two are correlated).

Marcille scouts out places all Tomb Raiser style for lost treasures and knowledge, keeps maps and written info etc in her book. She’s still much of a scholar but more in an archeologist sense, she wants to discover the truth of dungeons and see if it could revolutionize the world. She’s a buildings and engineering nerd instead of magic nerd. She hypes herself up as a passionate cool rogue adventurer like in books✨ Chil thinks it’s a silly and unstable profession. All her um, grace and agility when doing headstands and dancing are coming through with this new role of hers.

Chil does need to borrow mana and so they hold hands a lot. I am so taking advantage of the mana transfer thing. "I’m out of mana, you’re an elf and you never use magic, give some to me! You have so much, don’t be selfish!!" -inparty fight breaks out as he chases after her and she runs away- I imagine that’s just kinda how he and half-foot mages roll? Dunmeshi-typical worldbuilding monologue that explains how "Most people don’t even use their mana, they don’t even learn magic. If you give me your mana I’ll be able to do more magic, win-win, no harm done." I imagine you have to be magic-savvy to be able to transfer mana to someone but it’s fine he can just steal it methinks 🌟 So he gets to be the one who’s very casual about physical touch. He does NOT want to be a healer it stresses him out but ah shit there Falin goes.

More AU details under cut

You’ve heard of onion knight now get ready for onion mage Y’know the saddest part of mage Chilchuck is that he wouldn’t use explosion spells

You know how Marcille uses her staff to grab people by the neck or head sometimes… Chilchuck would have a free choking stick he can use to make people listen to him. He can REACH THEIR NECKS . It doubles as a walking stick for his old man back… /j And a weapon, sort of. I think staff more than lance, but long weapons like that suit him I think. Holding the monster at bay with a 4 feet long stick like "Stay BACK!! Go for my party members shoo shoo!!!!"

From my observations, staffs for magic all have a ‘hole’ at one end, oh size, shape, material and form varying. For example both Marcille and Rin have a similar hoop, but Falin’s is a lantern which imo the metal frame of it and the glass form this hole I’m speaking of. Maybe it’s like, the staff condenses the magic inside the hole and helps channel it and give it form? What I’m saying here is I didn’t decide what it was made out of but I like to think it’s carved wood so it can be homemade but unique to him.

Marcille and Chil both fight in battles, but he stays where it’s safer and does long distance spells only. Marcile uses daggers probably… But yeah her role’s more being a scout rather than a fighter, while Chil’s role is being a magical fighter and his expertise on magical creatures and such.

I think he’d be self-taught, where it’s his own magic system… I think he likes theory more than vibes and working at the whims of creatures, so maybe elven with an half-foot script? He doesn’t seem like the type to get buddy-buddy with spirits much A bit like his cowl it’s like he always has a part of home with him a bit with his half-foot magic… He’d have sucked at the beginning, it’s pretty experimental magic, but he made it work and tbh he’s a Big Deal for it. Learning on the field ofc ofc he’s no honor student

I think the racial prejudices tension would be worse, because he’d be nervous of the whole ‘half-foots who get too curious about dark magic get taken away’, and I think as a half-elf who doesn’t do magic it might be uncomfortable for her to deal with how the half-foot is better at it than her and how her mana would have had better use with him instead of her? Idk brainstorming. I def think she’d habe more of a complex about being a half-elf… Still with existential dread and still Hopes to find a cure to death, but she goes about it through artefacts etc rather than magic. I’m unsure how her career would turn out that wqy exactly because job stability and academia are important to her, but yeah I think she went to school on an agricultural and history level and focused her research on that front? And then she could become that adventurer scholar who explores to pierce secrets of the world and ancient civilizations trope yeah I think that’s the angle.

Maybe his plans for the future after quitting being a dungeon diver would be teacher/mentor instead of shopkeeper 🤔 One one hand oh god have mercy on his blood pressure, on the other he likes contributing to his community and would want to encourage half-foot mages and pass down his knowledge and expertise I think. Empty nest syndrome where…- OHHH mage Meijack……. I was thinking becayse Meijack followed in his footsteps in canon but it could suit Puckpatti and Flertom too… Their dad would have shown them some magic tricks hehe. They can be a magical girl trio in my heart, Powerpuff Girls energy…

A rogue has gotta be able to make intricate af braids and updos with their fingers (ignore how in canon Chil is just barely decent at them nvm). I was thinking maybe one of Marcille’s lockpicks is Ambrosia-shaped… Or maybe it’s an hairpin. Maybe she keeps her lockpicks as pins in her hair but they’re easy to grab… Getting more gimmicky by the second but my heart yearns for it I cannot lie. I ended up doing something close to canon for Marcille’s outfits but at first I imagined she’d wear stuff more akin elven fashion, short dress with pants, light material, though also with a leather armor breastblate. She has long gloves like the ones that look fancy, maybe even up her upper arm rather than just forearm ooh… Also her little pouch, which actually contains stuff this time around (lockpicks). They still have matching pouches yay

In that last doodle Chilchuck weaved her a little familiar with twigs… So it is magical but it’s hers, and it’s a second stand-in for Ambrosia. Maybe a golem… It’s very silly and prob not real in the au but the thought of it is really cute. Someone on the discord said Fantastical Beasts Pickett which yesss lmao, it’s like a pokemon for "(lock)pick it!" I love arts and crafts Chilchuck so much. Sew clothes. Weave twigs. Woodcarve. Necromance a frankenstein. He can make himself a new wife (/J I AM SO /J)

Also for Izutsumi: I think the reverse of a ninja is a bard. Take that as you will. Angry bard who grew up in a troupe……

#Dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #dunmeshi au #marcille donato #chilchuck tims #marchil #marchil march 2024 #The way i could have had this out at lunch hour but brainrotted too hard #Content making or daydreaming it’s an all-marchil economy over here #So much half-foot magic hcs lately i love it sm #Sketch dump

[blayresmuses]

Hello love, if you are taking requests would you pls write one on Aemond Targaryen x Y/n Targaryen (uncle/ niece) where they are enemies but definitely have a lot of sexual tension between the two. Maybe they have snuck around before and she’s scared of getting caught? Maybe he’s trapped her somewhere and they get into an argument and try to kill eachother but reader makes smartass comments like how it seems as if he’s lost one of his balls instead of his eye or how she prefers her husband to have all of his parts etc) and he starts choking her, realises she’s into it and then gets turned on himself. They end up fucking but it’s very raunchy with lots of choking, dirty talk, hair pulling etc etc

the fire you crave

summary: you’re the bane of aemonds existence and he never fails to put you in your place when it’s needed.

warnings: sexual content, degradation, choking, hair pulling

authors note: it isn’t specified that they’re related and this is quite different to what you asked for but i hope you enjoy anyway <3

your heart is thumping, betraying you completely as his steps grow nearer. aemond’s dagger is heavy in your hand, the other one tracing along the damp brick of the wall to help guide you along the corridor, buried so deeply in the castle. you understand that if he catches up to you there would be no one around to help, to guard you from that cool temper, but that’s what makes it so exciting.

you remembered his face when you managed to grab it from his side, taking his attention away from the books he so loved. somewhere behind you he whistled, as if this was just another chore he had to complete. looking behind you, you could just see the flame of the lantern he was carrying reflecting on the walls. quickly, with a wicked grin on your features, you rushed into a nook in the wall, hoping the darkness disguised you.

his footsteps seemed so slow. you held your breath, anticipation and excitement making your stomach turn. ‘why is it Y/N,’ aemond said into the darkness. you could just tell he was gritting his teeth, burning in agitation. ‘that whenever you need attention it’s me you have to come to?’

it was a good attempt you admitted. he was baiting you but you kept still, lip trapped between your teeth. the silence weighed as heavy as the blade in your palm, that sensor inside of you that went insane when aemond was near was pulsing like crazy and you knew he was close, felt his presence deep in your bones. ‘where’s your flock of suitors, hmm? can’t they keep you entertained?’

his voice sent shivers of pleasure down your spine. you adored this - being the centre of his attention, the object of his ire - even though he claimed to hate it, made his degrading comments - he loved it too, burned just as brightly for you as you did him. you pushed further against the wall, feeling the roughness scrape down your exposed back. in your imagination you could feel aemond there, breathing down your neck -

you screamed when he appeared round the corner, sneering down at you in distaste. the flame lit him up beautifully like he was some ethereal devil come to drag you down to the pits of hell. his eye was a burning pit of flame, his anger evident as he looked upon you. his free hand reached for the dagger, not bothering with your silly games.

‘where’s your manners aemond,’ you lectured with a pout. deftly you hid the blade behind you, pinning your hand between your back and the stone. ‘maybe if you’re nice i’ll give you it.’

‘you really are nothing but an attention seeking brat,’ he spat at you, taking a step towards you. it felt like the air was being sucked from your lungs, a giddy state of mind overtaking you. ‘give me it back and i won’t have your hand for stealing, how about that?’

‘beg me,’ you insisted, blinking prettily up at him in the way you knew drove him mad.

‘it’s a fair deal,’ he countered, looking away from you as if he couldn’t stand to see. his jaw clenched and you resisted the urge to reach out and touch him. ‘don’t think i won’t do it. i’m sure i’ll still find uses for you, with or without your hand i still wouldn’t be able to escape your whorish pestering.’

you desperately wanted to hate him, wanted to hate the constant spew of filthy words he threw in your direction. it only excited you further, dragged you down into a never ending rabbit hole of lust and hatred and desire. ‘you claim to hate me but here you are, drawn to me like a moth to flame,’ he continued on, staring harshly down at you. ‘what are you going to do when i’m married off hmm? take yourself down to the street of silk every night?’

you bristled at the blatant insult. you weren’t some needy little girl, following after him. he pushed and pulled as much as you did. ‘don’t worry, my precious girl,’ he cooed condescendingly, running his fingers through your hair. ‘you know i wouldn’t let anything bad happen to you. i’m sure one of my guards would love a pretty little wife like you. i don’t think they’d even care that you’ve been broken in.’

you moved so quickly that he dropped the lantern in shock. it clattered to the floor, the noise echoing through the halls as you aimed the dagger at him, attempting to jam it in the space between his neck and shoulder. you knew deep down it wouldn’t work, he made quick work of grabbing it from you and throwing it on the ground.

then his hand was around your throat, lightly at first just so he could see your eyes widen, the little bit of fear creep into them. ‘did that hurt your feelings?’ he growled at you, backing you against the wall until your neck was stretched as far as it could go just so you could look at him. ‘or is it jealousy that’s made you do something so fucking stupid?’

‘as if i’d want to marry you aemond,’ you countered. both of your breathing had picked up and you did your best to ignore the cravings you had to be close to him, to have him sate your desires the way only he could. his forehead lowered to yours and his lips were so close you almost lost the ability to speak. ‘i like my men to have all of their parts. from what i make of it you lost an eye and your balls.’

immediately his grip tightened further, completely cutting off your air way. you tried to gasp but failed - you could only gaze into his eye, watch the emotions swirl around. you should have concentrated more on your own, felt that needy ache between your thighs intensify at the feeling of being so under this thumb. you wanted it to mark you, wanted to carry a piece of him with you everyday, you loved being at his mercy so much a choked moan rose from your throat.

‘you’re enjoying this aren’t you?’ aemond grumbled. he was wearing that god awful smirk now, eyes alight with amusement at your state. ‘you pretend to be a lady but look at you - you’re sick.’

his voice was like liquid fire, turning your nerves to mush. you struggled to move your hand, aemond groaned when you made contact with his cock, squeezing more roughly than you should have. ‘i’m sick?’ you managed to croak out. ‘you’re the one who’s aroused by choking a lady-’

he squeezed once more, completely cutting off your air before smashing his lips to yours, so rough your head collided back with the wall. bewildering, overwhelming, you tugged at his hair, twirling strands of it around your finger then yanking until he pulled your bottom lip between his teeth. his hands tore at the bodice of your dress, tearing through the clasps and exposing your breasts.

he bent before you and you took the respite for air, your chest shuddered and you found yourself pinned before his gaze, somewhat softer now than what it had been. ‘why does it have to be you that makes me feel like this,’ aemond murmured, leaning his forehead against your thigh as he yanked your dress the rest of the way down and helped you step out of it.

it was a soft action, one that left your heart a puddle on the floor by his feet. coupled up with those words - it left you a shaking mess, still struggling to breathe because you were so frustratingly enamoured by him. ‘quiet now, are we?’ he queried, leaving a kiss by the side of your knee. it was when he treated you like this you imagined the future, could imagine being married to him, you didn’t bother imagining him being happy about those ideals though. ‘we’ll have to change that won’t we?’

he gripped the plush skin of your thigh, you watched as he admired the way your soft skin gave way before him, watched him take his fingers off to admire the red finger marks he left behind. aemond guided your thigh over his shoulder and you gulped at the strange vulnerability that overtook you - no matter how many times he did it you didn’t think you’d ever be comfortable with the intensity of it, the intimacy of having him so close to you. ‘you’re beautiful,’ he praised, his voice hoarse. ‘and you’re all mine. my little whore aren’t you?’ you nodded, arching your back when he bit down on your hip, taking the tender skin between his teeth.

kisses were placed over the sore spot, soothing it with his tongue. you were lured into it, letting the pleasure overtake you before you yelped when he spanked your clit, a burning pleasure taking over your whole body. ‘say it. i want to hear you say it.’

‘i’m yours aemond,’ you whispered. his possessive, obsessed side gave you butterflies. it was what you thought of before bed, the dominating words he murmured to you in these sacred moments. he rewarded you by kissing the inside of your thigh, softly sucking the skin into his mouth. ‘are you scared you can’t perform?’ you asked cheekily, breaking the tension. ‘you’re really taking your time.’

he hummed before chuckling darkly and your back arched against his grip impatiently. ‘you need to learn the act of patience, pet,’ aemond replied, not bothering to hide the bite in his voice. it was if you’d interrupted him during his favourite hobby, as if having you was something he should savour rather than rush. you blushed and moved your hips again, enjoying the bite of his fingers into the skin of them. ‘i was willing to warm you up but since you want to be such an impatient slut we’ll just skip to good part.’

aemond stood, loosening his breaches and pulling his cock out. your greedy fingers pulled at his tunic, urging it off of him so you could feel his bare skin, bring his chest close to yours. he smirked but didn’t comment, merely tugged your ear lobe between his teeth and adjusted your thigh around his waist. ‘you didn’t need warmed up did you? can fucking feel you coating me already.’

he ran the tip of his cock up and down your slit, gathering the wetness until you were almost losing your mind. aemonds self control never managed to surprise you, especially when he started tapping against your clit making you jerk in his arms. ‘i’m starting to think you really lost your balls-’

before you could resist his fingers were in your mouth, pushing down on your tongue and that’s when he pushed himself in. not slowly, you didn’t deserve that, he sheathed himself completely, not bothering to let you adjust to the size of him. the sting was bitter and you moaned around the digits in your mouth, eyes rolling to the back of your head.

‘yeah that’s it, good girl,’ aemond praised, eyes glued to where the two of you were connected. he watched as he disappeared into your slick, coming back out covered in you, heard the lewd noises - it drove him mad in the best way. ‘take it and don’t say a word.’

you didn’t, simply raked your nails as hard as you could down his back, enjoying the harsh thrust he gave you in return. wet fingers trailed down your chin until his hand was a necklace around your throat yet again, you met his eye and he squeezed, a determined look on his pale features. he went for your mouth but you twisted, not wanting to get this confused with something it wasn’t - an act of intimacy and genuine love.

‘come on pretty girl, give in to me. give in to your prince.’ you tried to resist, focused solely on the scrape of his cock against your walls, the hand around your neck. your cunt took him in without questioning, welcoming the pleasure, the heady sense of mind it gave you but his mouth was right there, you wanted to taste him. you felt the fire dying out in you like it always did. you fell impossibly further into his arms, let him capture your mouth.

you felt him pick you up fully and you tightened your legs around his waist, drawing him in closer. you felt the clammy skin that pressed against you, the subtle grind of his lower torso against your clit. the rough stone ravaged your back but you didn’t complain, just moaned his name into the hotness of his mouth. the new angle had him rocking straight into your spot as his fingers tangled in your hair, pulling harshly as if that gave him some semblance of control. ‘oh it’s perfect -’ the words were stuttered, bitten out as if he truly was losing it. you were glad because you felt the same like some dam waiting to burst. ‘and it’s all mine, perfect cunt just for me.’

aemond felt you tightening and he could only grin, completely drunk on the delicious way you spasmed around his length. ‘do you like that Y/N? i think you do. you pretend to hate me but you love that i can get you like this. you belong to me. never forget that.’

you knew it deep in your bones. he’d ruined you for any man so you just let yourself enjoy the moment, let yourself be taken closer to the edge as this thumb rubbed your clit. it didn’t take long, merely a minute or two for you to near the precipice of orgasm. you could tell he was close too, biting down on your shoulder to keep his noises in. ‘say it,’ he groaned. ‘say it or i won’t let you finish.’

your stomach sank at the request although you’d learned to expect it. he asked it of you every time though he never bothered to return the sentiment. the words made you feel ill. to leave yourself so vulnerable for him, it was the most difficult thing you could do but as close as you were, your body was preparing to finish, you craved it. so you shut your eyes and whispered what he wanted to hear.

‘avy jorrāelan, aemond.’

one deep thrust and you were falling over the edge, aemond following. his lips found yours during, sucking your bottom lip into his mouth so softly you wanted to scream. he let you cling to him in the moments after, let you shudder in his arms as he rubbed the sore skin of your back. it was too much you thought, so you unraveled yourself from him and watched as he put himself back to rights.

the silence was deafening in the aftermath. as if you had to be modest, you picked up the scraps of your gown and held them over yourself. ‘why do you make me say it?’

aemond didn’t answer, just kept on sorting himself. you felt the chance slipping through your fingers. you didn’t care how desperate or needy it was to ask, to want answers. you felt broken apart, like he’d opened you up and looked inside then decided you weren’t worthy and shut you back over. before you realised it there were tears in your eyes, your bottom lip trembling. ‘you never say it back,’ you murmured and you hated how truly sad you sounded.

‘don’t act like you meant it,’ aemond snapped but even he looked emotional, seeming more content to look at the floor than at you. ‘you say it because i ask you to, not because you want to. it means nothing.’

you shook your head, the tears flowing freely as he turned on his heel and left. he didn’t even take the dagger, just left you standing in the fading flame. you picked it up, ran your finger down the silver blade, knowing already you’d keep it like a memento, like it was a piece of him to keep.

avy jorrāelan, aemond. i love you, aemond.

#aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen x reader #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen

[canonmisogynyvictimstournament]

PROPAGANDA

ALEX DEWITT (DC COMICS)

1.) The term “fridging” is literally based on Alex and what happened to her. She was killed off violently by a bad guy trying to get at her boyfriend only a couple issues after she was introduced (making it obvious they only brought her in to kill her off for shock value). Her death did very little to the narrative other than hurt her boyfriend Kyle and was done in an exceedingly horrifying and violent way. (Bad guy came to the door with flowers and threatening note, broke in and attacked her, choking her to death, before [off panel] chopping her body up and sticking it in the refrigerator as a “surprise” for her boyfriend. This obviously is really fucked up and she deserves better and should win this actually (a vote for Alex is a vote for all fridging victims [in spirit])

2.) It doesn’t get much worse than being the character whose death originated the “fridging” trope. In Green Lantern Vol. 3 #54, Kyle Rayner comes home to find that Alexandra, his girlfriend, has been killed by the villain Major Force and stuffed into the refrigerator.

Alexandra DeWitt is the character whose misogynistic treatment coined the term where a character, usually female, is killed off purely to make the main character, usually male, feel bad. Even if there are other characters who have been subjected to similar levels of misogyny, Alexandra DeWitt’s treatment has been essentially immortalized.

3.) I know she’s not going to win but shout out to my home girl, literally the trope namer for women shoved in fridges. All anyone ever knows about her is that she was Kyle’s girlfriend and got murdered for his character development, even though she had plenty of potential to be her own character.

AMBER VOLAKIS (HOUSE MD)

1.) Holy shit thank you for reminding me about Amber. Her nickname that almost everyone calls her to her face every day is Cutthroat Bitch. When she & Wilson start dating there are so so so many jokes about her keeping his balls in her purse & having him whipped & etc etc just bc she’s assertive & confident. & then the whole two-part episode where they fridge her (which is. not quite house’s fault directly but he definitely contributed to it) they make it completely about house & wilson & maybe 2% about HER. I’m still mad forever

2.) After being fridged, she does show up in later seasons! As a hallucination. She shows back up to be the devil on House’s shoulder when he is hurtling towards a vicodin-induced breakdown. Literally only shows up to steer him into making bad decisions (including almost killing Chase (allergic to strawberries) by inviting him to a party where the stripper is wearing strawberry scented lotion that sends him into anaphylaxis)

3.) im so glad someone else submitted amber because she fits so well for this poll but i couldnt get my words out right but im going to try again anyway. i think an important aspect of how ambers character is treated and written for the audience has to do with if a man did what she did, hed be opportunistic and ambitious, if not a bit of an ass, but because shes doing it it makes her ‘bitchy’. “cutthroat bitch” “coldhearted bitch” etc is practically her canon alias at this point by how much she is referred to that way rather than her name. she is probably the most humanized out of wilson’s canon relationships and its mostly because theyre paralleling her to house. she deserved so much better she deserved the world and more

#polls #round 2 #week 3 #new

[brayneworms]

roots of lore.

ft. xiao x gn!reader

word count. 1.4k

content. scars, scar touching, xiao's backstory (mentions of abuse + slavery), massages, xiao is touch-starved, fluff, petnames (sweet boy), grinding, not technically smut but definitely suggestive, light dom/sub undertones (dom!reader + sub!xiao).

synopsis. xiao is free now, but his scars remain.

notes. i am an nsfw blog, minors dont follow me or interact.

Xiao's body locks up beneath you, a trembling cage of flesh and soul.

You're reminded of when he'd grudgingly agreed to spar with you for the first time, after much wheedling. The first time you'd asked, he'd looked at you like you'd grown another head; the second time bred only subtle irritation. The third, he'd informed you flatly that under no uncertain circumstances could you beat him, and he doesn't like to fight at the best of times.

The tenth time, you wore him down. It had been exhilarating—you got your ass beat, sure, and Xiao had been going very easy on you, too. You'd limped back to the Wangshu Inn with bruised ribs and a strained ankle and a huge grin. You're sure Xiao thought you even stranger after that. But now it's become routine, and though he has years of experience on you, sometimes you're quick enough to get a couple of hits on him.

One time, oh, one time you managed to get his feet out from under him with a training staff, a harsh whap to the ankles and he went down, knees and face in the dirt. Before he can get his hands under him to push himself back up, he feels a phantom weight settle over him like a shadow, and he freezes. The blunt tip of your staff presses into his spine, right over a ridge, in a way that renders him temporarily motionless. Your knee brushes against the outside of his hip as you lean down, and when you speak, you're so close to his ear that he can feel his pulse in his skull; "Got you."

This is the first time you feel it—the way Xiao freezes when he's bested. At first you think you've made him uncomfortable, but... through the tufts of dark hair obscuring his expression, you can see the tips of his ears burning red. You can feel the slightest tremble running through his bones where your body just barely brushes his own. And, most tellingly, when you lean forward to murmur what was supposed to be a gloat, you feel the choked-off noise he bites back somewhere high in his throat at the contact.

And you suppose it's not so different to now, really—your room at the Wangshu Inn is quiet and decent, half-lit by glass lanterns and the moonlight outside. You're far too high above Liyue for any stray passersby to be able to see through your windows, which is just as well. You don't want anyone to be privy to this view except for you.

He's still mostly dressed, which is almost more tantalising than seeing him naked; there's something about the way the fabric drapes over his skin that makes you want to eat him alive. He's taken to burying his face in the bedsheets to hide as you work at him, a palm spread wide over his stomach to feel his stomach rise and fall. Even this contact sends his blood catching alight, his spine arching into your touch as your thumb strokes at the skin. Laving your care into pale flesh, one gentle swipe at a time.

You set another hand gently on the jut of his hip, push him back down to the bed. "You okay?"

Xiao presses his lips together, half mortified at his own lack of control and half blissed out beyond caring. Nobody has ever touched him like this, with so much care, so much love—it feels foreign, bubbling up hot and carbonated inside him like it insists upon itself. Calling out to an endless void, love me! Love me!

It seems impossible. But here you are, rolling him over on his stomach. He's half-grateful; burning up from the intensity of your stare, neck sore from trying to burrow into the bed to hide from it. He sinks his head into the pillows and let loose a long, trembly sigh as you clamber gently over him, legs bent on either side of his hips. The weight of you rests on him as you reach out to toy with a lock of dark hair.

Xiao whines at the suggestion of tension against his scalp; you pull nowhere near enough to hurt, but the in-between is maddening. It's like anticipation, like holding a loaded crossbow waiting for the bolt to loose. It feels like you should hurt him. Like you should want to. But you don't, and before long your fingers leave his hair to trace patterns on the nape of his neck, and Xiao shudders, burying his head into the pillow.

"You're okay, sweet boy," you murmur, and Xiao wants to argue that he's not a boy, he's so far from it, and sweet sounds like a joke when it tries to stick to someone like him. Karmic debt oozes from his pores, gritty and dark and acidic, surely infecting even your lovely hands, and Xiao readies his voice to say all this but then you run a finger hard down his spine and he stifles a whiny noise into the sheets instead.

He's aware, vaguely, that he's panting, that he's never felt this alive in this way in all his life, that what started as uncertain jerks of his hips to relieve some of the weird tension building hot in his low stomach has turned into a steady, rhythmic movement. His hips roll against the mattress, ignited by your careful touch, your fingers that dance on the precipice between pleasure and pain. It's too much, it's not enough, and Xiao stifles another cry into the mattress, mortified.

You stop quite suddenly, and Xiao makes another pathetic noise before realising where your hands have paused. The window in the back of his shirt that ripples over the skin of his spine, baring the flesh for the world. His heart flies into his throat; he usually keeps a glamour up, nothing especially powerful, just enough to heal his skin and keep people from seeing—

Your fingers trace a scar, and Xiao feels the prickling of tears at his eyes. Seeing that.

"Xiao," you whisper, and try as he might he is unable to read your tone. He's rooted to the spot, unable to move a muscle, and the fiery want in his abdomen goes cold and rotten in earnest. He can't look back at you. You've seen.

You must think he's hideous. A thing only worthy to be kept, to be hit, to be made use of. He wants to curl into himself and hide.

"I've never seen these," you murmur. "Do you keep them hidden?"

Shamefully, Xiao forces himself to nod; he can't possibly speak.

"Oh, sweet boy..." And your hands move again, tracing up and down the ridges, the jagged X that serves as a remnant of his days of servitude, tattoos his skin like a brand of ownership. Whip scars, beatings where the skin sliced open, pockmarking an unmeasurable amount of skin. Xiao wants simultaneously to pull away and to melt into you; he wants to let you rip him open at the seams, sink your hands into the ichor and black karma that makes him up inside. The thought of disappearing into the wind flits briefly, temptingly, across his mind—and then your hands drag over the center of that jagged X and his eyes roll back in his head, and the sinks into the mattress with little more than a whimper.

"You're so beautiful," he hears you whisper, and it feels impossible, like a sweet dream of some other reality where he deserves such gentle treatment. Your fingers nudge at the back of his head, coaxing. "Look at me?"

He cracks open a heavy eye with great difficulty; it gleams bright as topaz above cheekbones shaded in deep scarlet, hair amuss, shielding the rest of his expression, but his eyes speak enough. He looks agonised.

You lean forward, press your lips to the raised center of the labyrinth of scars in a stinging kiss, and Xiao swallows a choked noise. "I don't want you to hide these from me anymore, okay? Look how strong you are. How brave. I want to be reminded of that every time I look at you—that's what you deserve."

Xiao draws in a shaky breath. "I am not... any of that," he mumbles, paying no mind to how wrecked his voice sounds. "These are marks o weakness. Of servitude."

"And now you're free," you whisper, and Xiao's heart soars like a bird over the horizon. "Free to wander, to love. Free to stay right here with me."

Xiao can think of nothing better.

if you enjoyed this, request something.

#🫀.scribes #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact smut #genshin impact oneshot #xiao x reader #xiao smut #sub!xiao #dom!reader #genshin impact x dom!reader #genshin x dom!reader #genshin smut #sub!genshin

[emeraldkniight]

Can I request a hal x reader x kyle smut os? If so, I would like the plot to be about them all hating each other and having angry sex.

HATE FUCK !

hal jordan x fem!reader x kyle rayner

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀. . . porn with plot. smut. daddy kink with Hal, dirty talk, degradation. fingering, p in v, anal sex, choking, manhandling?

𝗰𝗼𝗽𝘆𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁. . . no copying of my work is allowed. Free translation is allowed as long as I am credited.

𝗹𝗮𝗻𝗴𝘂𝗮𝗴𝗲. . . as I said in my other posts, English is not my first language. I have tried to make corrections with the translator, but as you all know, it is prone to making mistakes, so I apologize in advance for any mistakes or if anything sounds weird.

𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲. . . MY MEN 😭 I could do thousands of one-shots of Hal and Kyle and never get tired of it. Hope you like it <3

One of life's misfortunes is being put in situations that can be incredibly uncomfortable, but sharing a team with two people you hate? That's definitely something you wouldn't wish on anyone.

Since you joined the Green Lanterns, there have always been two people who have tried to make your rise within the corps a little more difficult. Two people who, to your unfortunate luck, were assigned by the Guardians to be your superiors, since you were too new to take on a mission on your own.

Hal Jordan and Kyle Rayner: Annoying, cocky, and more experienced than you. Enough to make you take a back seat on every mission.

They were on an unknown planet, possibly light years away from Oa. When they were in a seedy bar, surrounded by alien life, you wondered if it was right to be a part of it. Was it even worth putting up with them?

— Is this our sector? — you asked as you followed them in flight.

You had the misfortune to be distracted by an alien with disproportionate physical qualities and advanced until you collided with Hal's back.

— Be careful. As long as you're in our custody, what happens to you and your sweet ass is up to us. So keep your mouth shut and fly carefully. — He growled at you.

— It was just a question.

— And if you can't follow a simple order, maybe you should reconsider being part of the team. — Kyle said, turning to you.

Of the two, Hal was usually the more hostile. Kyle just nodded, but sometimes he had the luxury of reprimanding you for nonsense, like now. It was strange, actually, that neither of them would be critical of another rookie, but with you, they would even criticize the way you had to fly or the structures you formed with your ring. You swore that not even Kilowog had been so strict before.

Still, it seemed that the hatred Kyle and Hal had for you also held for each other. For a moment, you thought they were great allies, but it was difficult for them to agree on anything regarding the mission. Unfortunately for you, even if they decided on an ideal plan, you couldn't and shouldn't have a say in it, so if they didn't agree, you didn't care. It seems that it's only when they're on to you that things really pay off.

Frankly, hating them and being hated by them didn't change how easy it was for you to fall into their hands. You always felt inferior to them, both in the company and in bed. Where you find yourself right now: in Kyle's apartment, soiling the sheets.

You were pressed against the mattress. At the same time you were biting the pillow while he was busy pleasuring you with his fingers. He wasn't gentle at all, not even touching you, but that didn't change the fact that it felt good.

The texture of his fingers slid contemptuously over your wet pussy. You were aware of your own pleasure as your accelerated breathing and small moans were the only things echoing in the room.

He was watching you as he always did. There was no hint of affection or love in his eyes, only carnal lust. He didn't like you at all; he just liked the idea of fucking you and leaving you, as he always did.

Hal Jordan was the same, or maybe worse.

— You should have told me that this invitation included a private show.

You quickly pulled yourself out of your state of utter pleasure as you were startled by the presence of Hal watching from the doorway.

He was wearing that aviator jacket you would never admit how much you liked. His brown hair was disheveled, and maybe the effect of lust made you think the wrong things about his choice of jeans.

What was he doing here?

— Did you miss me that much, honey? — he asked. — I had to come urgently just to show Kyle how to treat you.

In an instant, he was standing in front of you. You looked into his deep brown eyes as one of his large and masculine hands wrapped around your neck without choking you.

You always found him handsome. It never mattered to you that he was quite a bit older than you. He was possibly a decade ahead of you, unlike Kyle, who was barely a year or two. As much as it bothered you, being in bed with him made you feel like you had to nod and give in to everything he asked you to do, just because you wanted to.

With Kyle, on the other hand, you used to be a brat: a capricious brat who only wants to please herself and needs to be disciplined to make you behave.

Maybe that's why Hal's hands kept squeezing your neck and Kyle's kept rubbing your pussy.

— Look at me. Only me. Don't think about him. — He told you and began to apply a light pressure that began to suffocate you.

Immediately, Kyle abruptly pulled Hal's hands away from you, trying to get your attention back on him.

— Who is fucking your wet, messy pussy with his hand right now, need I remind you?

You paused to catch your breath, just as you used it as an excuse not to answer the man's question. Since it didn't matter how much they noted that it was only a sexual thing, they would still compete in everything that had to do with you.

Immediately you felt knuckles pressing against your clit. If Kyle had been guarding your hole before, Hal was now caressing your sensitive spot that desperately needed attention.

Your senses begin to sharpen. You begin to fall deeper into the surface of the bed. You feel your vision and thoughts blur with pleasure. The heat beats hard against you, sucking the oxygen out of you.

— Eyes on Daddy. — Hal asked. — I want you to look into my eyes when you cum on my fingers.

— If she cums on your fingers, it's thanks to me. — growled the other.

— We'll see. — He smirked at you without stopping his movements.

You were still. You only moaned because the sensations were so overwhelming that you couldn't even remember the names of the men who were stimulating you. You tried not to look at them and just lay there with your eyes on the ceiling. Soon you came on both fingers, leaving a complete mess on the mattress.

— Enough for you? — Kyle asked, approaching you with the intention of wiping away your tears. — I hope not, we're not done yet. Or what, you think Hal would come all this way just to touch this used pussy?

— Relax, she knows what I want, don't you? — he asked. In return, he put his knee between your legs with the intention of being able to open them again.

— Yes, Daddy.

— “Yes, Daddy?” Is it with him that you decide to be good and obedient? — the younger man asked as he reached into the drawer and pulled out lubricant and several condoms.

He positioned himself behind you, in a position from which he could perfectly observe your ass. Without consulting you, he extended a finger smeared with lubricant over your anal hole. You knew what was going to happen and you couldn't help but feel scared; you had never gone so far as to dare to do it from behind.

— I shouldn't, but I'll try to be gentle with you just this once. You're acting like a complete brat.

Then you looked for a second at Hal, who was pulling you by your hips until you were on his naked lap. You quickly felt his huge erection thrusting into your pussy, which was not yet fully penetrated.

— You know how I like it. — He told you while one of his hands slid over the skin of your breasts. — Tell me how much you love me. With sincerity.

You looked at him and responded as honestly as your conscience would allow:

— I can't stand you. I've hated you since the day I joined the Corporation. You have done everything in your power to make every day of my life more difficult. I despise both of you.

They both smiled self-sufficiently as they accomplished the task of inserting themselves into you from one side at a time.

— Good girl. — He complimented you.

— Always saying what we want to hear.

#dc comics #dc universe #hal jordan x fem!reader #hal jordan x reader #hal jordan smut #kyle rayner #kyle rayner x reader #hal jordan #green lantern #green lanter corps #smut

[kabie-whump]

WoW Birthday Whump Day 6

Prompt: Nonhuman whumpee / Reluctant whumper / “Run!” Additional content: werewolf whumpee, self-mutilation mentions, werewolf transformation whump

“There’s another way. There has to be.”

Whumpee just sighs, glaring up at Whumper. “We’ve been over it a million times. This is our only safe option.”

“Safe for me. What about you?”

“I’ll…” Whumpee trails off, biting the inside of their cheek. “I’ll be okay. It’s more important to me that you’re safe.”

“I just don’t think I can handle knowing you’re hurting and not helping you.”

“Then just forget about me. Please.”

Whumper kneels in front of Whumpee, cupping their cheek. Whumpee is fully immobalized, their limbs wrapped in chains. It’s hard to see their face in the orange glow from the single lantern that lights the otherwise empty celler. Whumpee had said it would be the safest place for this to go down.

Their transformation.

It happens once a year, apparently. Whumper didn’t know they were a werewolf yet when the previous one came around. Whumpee had just disappeared for a week and returned covered in nasty clawmarks. 

“I was visiting my grandparents out of town,” they had said, waving off Whumper’s concern. “They have mean cats.”

Cat scratches the width of my finger. Sure. Totally believable. 

“You know I can’t do that,” Whumper mutters, checking over the chains one more time. They should hold Whumpee there at least until the transformation is over. That’s the worst part, apparently. It’s incredibly painful, and Whumpee explained that they usually end up clawing at their own skin on accident, just trying to hurry things along.

They theorize that if they can just hold still and let the transformation run its course over the 24 hours its supposed to take, they’ll be able to save themselves from most of the scarring. After that, they’ll be able to break free from the chains but they won’t make it out of the celler through multiple sets of reinforced doors. 

Whumper glances to the opposite wall, where there’s a sizable trough of water set up and a cooler full of raw meat. It’s not quite enough to feed a rabid beast for an entire week, but they won’t starve.

“I’ll take you out to eat when it’s over,” Whumper promises, brushing Whumpee’s hair out of their face one last time. “Wherever you want. Your pick. I’ll even pay.”

Whumpee forces a smile. “You’re too good to me. Thank you for… for not letting me do this on my own this time. It means a lot to me.”

“I just wish you’d told me sooner.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

Then their eyes squeeze closed involuntarily and they gasp, their body going tense. “Leave!” They choke out.

Whumper stands but doesn’t move away any further. “Are you sure I can’t just stay for the beginning? I could comfort you-”

“Get out of here, Whumper! Run!” They let out a broken scream, writhing in the chains.

Blinking back tears, Whumper runs for the door.

#wow birthday whump #wow birthday whump day 6 #nonhuman whumpee #werewolf whumpee #werewolf whump #whump #reluctant whumper #“Run!” #whump community #whump tropes #whump writing #whumpblr #whump scenario #whump ideas