#and rigor is like bark bark bark bark bark | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lovelyiida · 1 year

Text

making mha guys jealous~

INLCUDES: BAKUGO KATSUKI, TENYA IIDA, SHOTO TODOROKI

WARNINGS: implied gender neutral reader, sexual themes, vulgar language, sexual language

MASTERLIST

WORDS: 2.9K

BAKUGO KATSUKI

just for one single day he’d let it slide, he thought.

One fucking day.

It was currently a calm Sunday afternoon at the UA dorms, everyone at peace as they settled themselves for another long week of rigorous training and classes.

and here you fucking are, sitting next to Midoriya on the couch laughing at whatever he was showing you on his phone.

Bakugo knows that you know he despises the fucker, so why are you basically insulting him to his face at the moment?

Bakugo grumbles as he stares down at the text you sent to him nearly 30 minutes ago, "on my way up babe” he reads.

a damn liar you were

you and him were supposed to watch a move earlier before curfew hit, checking the clock he grows hotter by the second.

almost 3 hours before the 8PM curfew, that may be a lot of time to some. but on this glorious sunday, the day was gone before it even started.

your boyfriend watched as you giggled with your friend, knees huddled into your chest as your face shined bright with a smile.

why were you smiling so hard?

only he gets to see you smile that way.

and here goes this fuckwad.

round, sprinkle faced, curly-topped bastard.

Bakugo couldn't stand the looks of Midoriya sometimes, he just looked so punchable. he can't believe that he has the audacity to take you from him, knowing that the both of you were gong to be doing something at this exact time.

he may seem like this ball of sunshine to you, but he sees his true intentions.

watching the both of you even harder, he noticed how he was showing you pictures of something, eye lids pulling close together as he tries to make out the images on the phone and the words you were saying at the same time.

As midoriya scoots closer towards you. Bakugo feels a pang in his chest, it almost felt as if everything was moving in slow motion. bodies bumping into each other as his head accidentally bumps yours.

Today he thought he was gonna let it slide, he really did think that.

pulling away from each other, the both of you laugh, and thats when he saw it…

Midoriya was blushing.

"oh, piss off!" Bakugo darkly grumbled, hastily marching over to the both of you. he got madder with each step, fists growing hot and smoke fuming out.

as the both of you continued to laugh, you feel a heavy dip in the couch. you also see your friends expression, a laid back happy smile to quiver-lipped state of fear.

before you could ask whats wrong, you felt a strong arm wrap around your waist and pull you in tight.

"so this is what you've been doing, conspiring with the enemy?" Bakugos deep voice mumbled into your ear, making you jump. "w-what?" you stuttered.

"you texted me almost—40 minutes ago, that you're on your way, what the fuck?" Bakugo whined. you rolled your eyes, "bakugo, I was coming until I saw Midoriya! I haven't spoken to him in a while and decided to catch up."

looking over to the man of the hour himself, he lets out a shaky nod. "yeah! w-we were talking I was just showing them some pictures and–"

"what pictures?" Bakugo looks at you for an answer.

"nothing really!" Midoriya barks, earning a scowl from Bakugo.

"I wasn't fuckin' talkin' to you dumbass!" he yelled.

"now like I asked you, what pictures?" he says, his voice scarily calm.

"they were...pictures of you and Midoriya when you were kids," you admitted, Bakugos eyes widen as his face becomes warm.

"dude, what the fuck!" his free hand fling towards his face, poorly hiding his embarrassment. "I know, I'm sorry Kachaan! but your mom found them, and then she sent them to my mom…and she sent them to me!" he explained to the blonde.

"I don't give a fuck how you got them! just delete 'em!" He rubs his brows with his free hand to try and cope with the embarrassment. Finally having enough of this torment, he pulls you off the couch with ease and hurried to to the elevator.

stepping in, he lets out a breath.

"and stop fucking calling me that!" Bakugo yells, the vision of the green haired boy nodding in fear was the last thing you saw as the doors slide shut.

You sit in the elevator awkwardly as the sounds of the the elevator moving from floor to floor fill the void.

after a long moment of awkward silence in the elevator, you both finally make it to his dorm. Shutting the door, you plop on the bed, a smug smile not fading for a second.

You watch the blonde roam around his room, cutting on the tv and picking some random action movie he wanted the both of you to watch that you’ll most likely fall asleep to. Hearing him curse to himself as he trips on his shoes on his way to turn off the lights.

Crawling into the bed, you make room for Bakugo to lay in. Bakugo crawls in and throws the blankets over you and pulls you in tight.

As the movie begins to play, you couldn’t help but you let out a chuckle, “what now?” He groans. Smiling you look at him with hooded eyes, "you're so cute when you're jealous,~" you purr.

"i wasn't jealous!" he protested, making you luagh.

Bakugo pulls you in closer into his chest, which you kindly melt into. Burring your face into his chest, you let out a sigh.

"Midoriya misses you, y'know that?", you mumbled into his broad chest. The faint smell of sweet smoke fills your nostrils.

"I don't care" he spits.

You scoff at his reply, lightly hitting him on the chest. "oh come on! just for one day, hang out with the poor guy. you're always hanging out with me!" you complained, pushing his shoulder with your fist. Bakugo lets out a light chuckle, a smile barely present shown on his lips, nuzzling into your neck, he sighs.

"you're different."

TENYA IIDA

“Hey honey, are you ready for our study session?” Iida smiles brightly towards you, chest broad and stature straight.

You're currently outside the UA dorms, sitting out on the bench enjoying the sunlight after a week of rain with your favorite book.

“Oh baby, I promised I would study with you didn’t I?” You frowned at him. Interested to hear your response, Iida tilts his head. “I don’t understand,” he says.

Closing the book you were holding, you straightened your back. “Well…I forgot to let you know that I’ll be studying with someone else this weekend, please don’t be upset!” You pleaded.

Iida softly smiled at you, “I could never be upset at you, as long as you’re still learning I don’t care who it’s with.” His strong hand reached for your face, causing you to melt into iida as he caresses your face.

And it was true, as long as you stayed successful in classes. Studying with someone else is the least of his problems.

He looked into your eyes, your deep loving eyes. The both of you chuckle at the display of affection.

That was until he heard the door open. Sharply pulling away from your face he automatically shot his hand straight into the air.

Even though the both of you are in a relationship, the both of you tried to make it seem you weren’t together. In other words, intimate moments like these are only shown in private.

“Are you ready to leave?" a calm voice asks.

“Todoroki!” You jump up with a smile. Grabbing your book bag, you throw it over your shoulder and walk towards him.

Iida didn’t care who you were studying with…

Until he found out it was Todoroki.

Recently, Iida has been seeing him eye you more than the rest. It didn’t bother him until this moment. He also overheard a particular conversation the other day as well.

“Dude, if you had to pick one girl from 1-A to marry, who would you choose?” Kirishima asked.

Currently in the locker room, changing out of their hero suits. Iida was tying his shoe laces, not really interested in the conversation.

“I’m not sure,” Todoroki said.

“Okay, who was the first person that came to mind?” Kirishima says, his sharp toothy grin beaming bright from ear to ear.

“Um…y/n”

Iida perks up at this, not turning towards them. He simply stands straight up and walks out.

Today, Iida stares at Todoroki, his lips slightly twitch as he sees him chivalrously grab your book bag. Watching the both of you leave he cursed under his breath.

“Shit.”

There’s no way Todoroki has a thing for you right?

It’s simply not possible, even though no one really knows that the both of you are together, it should be a given.

He hoped today would be the only time it would happen. However, later in the weekend, he realized that both of you got to know each other way more intensely than he thought.

When he’d wake up and go to the kitchen, he'd see both of you sitting down next to each other, eating breakfast, talking about whatever happened the day before. talking about likes and dislikes, the two of you even had secret inside jokes that no one else knew of.

It irritated him, knowing that the special bond that he had with you was slowly deteriorating over the span of the weekend.

It hurts Iida that you spent almost your whole weekend with Todoroki.

Holding on tight to the short moments that the both of you would have, whether it be sitting down on the couch talking, or in his room cuddling.

Either you'd see Todoroki or he'd send you a text (he didn’t even know that he had your number). If it was true that you were going out with him, you would quickly apologize by kissing him on the cheek and saying your goodbyes.

and that’s what happened over and over and over again.

It was safe to say that he missed you dearly, even though you don’t really take you out on dates too often. he considers the study time the both of you have as a date. Even though there are no roses or chocolates or fancy dinners, he loves the time he spends with you.

He doesn’t want it to be taken by someone else.

That following Monday, the two of you were currently in the lunchroom. Iida didn’t sit next to you, but he was close enough to where he was able to see you within eyesight. Everything was fine until he saw Todoroki with lunch tray in hand, sitting next to you and began to converse with you.

He watched how you giggled at his words, whatever the both you were talking about. It must have been very funny. He's never even seen you laugh that hard at his jokes. Swallowing his food, he let out a deep sigh.

Staring the both of you down, he noticed that Todoroki had a light pink blush on his cheeks in a soft, faint smile that only his eyes caught.

You were so busy laughing you didn’t even notice that your knees were pressed up against each other. Throwing your head back in laughter, a thick strand of hair cascades over your face.

Don’t do it he thought don’t even try it

Todoroki reached out towards your face and softly tucked your hair back behind your ear. Eyes widening, you shyly thank him with a bow.

Iida didn’t even realize that his feet were moving by the time he got close to you. Grabbing your arm with such force it shocked you, as you were dragged out of the lunch room. It even shocked him that he was doing this.

Taking you to a classroom that is empty, he shuts the door.

"Honey, what's wrong?" you asked, slightly shaken up by Iida’s performance. “I don’t want you to hang around him anymore. He obviously has feelings for you.” he spit, his tone was sharp as you could tell that he was angry.

Your eyes widen for a moment until you frown, “is that what this is about? I assure you, Todoroki has no feelings for me.”

Your arms crossed against your chest as you huff out of breath. Iida scoffs at your words. "You may not see it, but I do! I know for a fact that he has feelings for you. He even said it in the locker room the other day!” he exclaims.

You let out a light gasp at his words. After a brief moment of silence, you giggle.

this makes him frown even deeper. “I don’t understand what you’re laughing about," he says.

You laugh, "I can't believe you're jealous right now," you say. Iida gross hot at your words.

“I mean, I have every right to be, don’t I? Todoroki has taken you away from me and it seems like you don’t even notice!” he exclaims.

Playfully poking your lip out, you walk towards Iida, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as you pull him into your embrace.

“y'know all of this could’ve been avoided if you just let everyone know that we’re in a relationship.”

He blushed as you spoke softly to him.

“And what happens if I do? What if you get made fun of because of me? Because they find out you’re dating such a loser…” His words trail off as you can tell that he’s visibly upset.

Your brows furrowed after hearing his words.

“you? A loser? Iida, you are the president of class 1-A at UA high school. I’m basically dating the top student in the entire school! You are definitely no loser in my book” you reassured him.

A soft smile appears on his lips as his hands slide around your waist. “you mean that?” he says.

“I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it” you mumbled.

Pulling in close to you, your lips press against each other softly. You breathe into the kiss, your hand racing from his shoulders to the back of his neck as you push him in for a deeper kiss.

Before this steamy make-out session could go further, you hear the door slam open. Gasping, you pull yourself away from your boyfriend.

“Todoroki!”

SHOTO TODOROKI

Todoroki doesn't see himself as a jealous type. He has no reason to be jealous not to make him sound cocky, but he has a good personality. He knows he has good looks and he's just a good person. What more could a person want?

You always thought the opposite about yourself, you never really understood why Todoroki chose you out of all the other people that desperately wanted him, but you never saw how Todoroki saw you.

You are a kind, caring, witty, and so funny a lot of people would die for a person like you, but you never saw that.

Or at least you never noticed, until today.

Today in class one a you were all sparring and training your quirks to the maximum ability. Todoroki stares at you from across the classroom. She noticed you were talking to someone in particular Denki Kaminari.

And bright yellow hair, a lean muscular build, a pretty face with a golden eyes, he's known to meet people on the school as a very attractive guy, and also a known heartbreaker.

He's no good, Todoroki thought.

He stares at the both of you, he noticed the way dinky I do his bright eyes gliding over, figure ever so carefully so that he wouldn't catch you because it be caught.

Denki knew you were already in a relationship with him with Todoroki, of course. But he could really care less. He still wanted to shoot his shot and maybe give you a little test of loyalty.

"Hey, is that skirt new? It looks Hella good on you." Denki says, sly smirk plastered on his lips as he spoke to you with ease. He noticed the way you blushed his comment you awkwardly laugh it off.

"no, this is the same skirt I've been wearing since the beginning of the school year. Thanks for the compliment, though." you give him a slight bow, somewhat thankful for his compliment.

"y'know, somehow I think it would look better if it was a tad bit, shorter...or maybe even off, your legs are so pretty! I wonder how they look thrown over my shoulders" Denki purrs, letting out a dark chuckles at his own words. he fawns over the way you tightly grip your skirt with your balled fists.

"you can't talk to me that way Denki! you know that Todoroki is my boyfriend. What if he hears you?" you whispered. Denki rolls his eyes at your words. leaning into your ear, he whispers.

"and if he did? what would you do princess?" Denki whispers, earning a shiver down your spine. pulling away, he notices Todoroki's sharp colorful eyes looking straight towards him.

Denki smiles brightly and even waves at him, he watched Todoroki smack his lips at his fake act. He chuckles at this, watching Todoroki stomp his way sighs.

reaching for a strand of you hair, he sighs as it slips from his fingers. "playtimes' over, gotta go beautiful!" Denki chuckles. Walking away before Todoroki could get to him.

Soon you felt a tight embrace on your back, "Todoroki!" turning towards him, you hug him tightly.

"what did he say to you?" his voice deep and filled with anger.

"nothing different, casual Denki being a pervert" you laugh, Todoroki only holds you tighter.

Todoroki isn't a jealous person.

But this time, he was.

hey guys!! almost at 200 followers, thanks sm guys!

— lovelyiida ❤︎︎

1K notes · View notes

ultram0th · 2 months

Text

James Ellis walked into the locker room, his blue tank top drenched with sweat from his rigorous workout. He wiped at his brow and went to his locker so that he could change out of his sweaty clothes and rinse off.

“Hey James,” one of his fellow gym goers, Adam, greeted the 40 year old fitness influencer. He was also changing out of his sweaty gym clothes, done with his workout for the day.

The older man just nodded in his direction, not too keen on being in the locker room with Adam at the same time. Adam was a nice guy, and James had no issue at all with gay people, but he didn’t like the lustful stares that the younger man would give him every so often. His hungry eyes would always find a way to travel up and down the stud’s chiseled chest or seek out his toned butt whenever he’d perform squats. Still, wanting to wash off the musky odor from his body, James wrapped his towel tightly around his waist before shucking his shorts and underwear.

James worked out and he even took pictures of his fit body to inspire others to follow his regimen, but he didn’t work out to have other men ogle him like he was a piece of meat. He hurried over to the shower room, oblivious to Adam’s devious smirk.

The shower room was one of the older, military-style ones where it was just an open room with the shower heads lining the walls. Three other men where already in there when James arrived, each one facing his respective shower head so as to offer the illusion of privacy.

James placed his towel on the rack and walked nude over to one of the shower heads and twisted it, releasing the spray of hot water that felt good on his smooth skin. He went about washing himself, following the unspoken rule of facing his own shower head. However, he bit down on the inside of his cheek in irritation when the shower head literally right next to him turned on, and he didn’t need to look over to know who it was.

Adam began to wash himself next to the fitness influencer, not even being stealth about sneaking a glance here and there, his smirk plastered onto his face. “Showtime,” he whispered.

“What?” James almost barked, incredibly aggravated that the guy would choose to shower right next to him. He shook it off and started to lather up his toned muscles with his body wash, the suds clinging to every contour of his shredded body.

There was a slight pressure in his groin, and the older man cocked his eyebrow as he looked down at himself. He suppressed a gasp so as not to bring attention to him and his hardening cock. For seemingly no reason at all, James was stunned to watch his cock inflate to its full seven and a half inches, sticking straight out in front of him as he showered in a room with other men. His hard cock bobbed in front of him and his first instinct was to immediately cover himself.

But he couldn’t do it.

James turned red with a mixture of embarrassment and horror over the fact that no matter how much he mentally told his hands to shield his erect member from view, they simply continued to lather up his muscles with soap. He strained and grit his teeth as he tried to push through whatever odd paralysis he was experiencing.

The horrified man felt his lips part and his heart fell when he let out a low moan. “Ooohhh,” he moaned, his deep voice echoing out in the tiled room.

He saw from his peripherals that Adam was now full on watching him, and for some reason, that knowledge made his heart speed up excitedly.

The older stud winced internally as he felt his body turn around on its own accord, making him face outwards and present his erect cock to the rest of the room. His beefy hands began to stroke his sudsy chest, slowly feeling up each curvature of his muscles.

“Ooohhh yeah,” he moaned again, louder this time.

The the other men in the shower, confused as to what was happening, each turned around. One of them looked weirded out and left, disgust written all over his face. However, the remaining two only nodded in approval and hungrily watched as an erect James couldn’t stop running his hands all over his soapy chest.

James was screaming inside of his mind, especially when his fingers started to pinch and tug on his nipples. The action sent jolts of electricity straight to his hard cock, making it twitch wildly as he moaned loudly, unable to stop himself. He had no idea why this was happening, but based on the hungry stares of Adam and the other men, he knew that it was definitely a sight to see.

The mortified man felt himself turn back around, but his relief was short-lived when he started to thrust his bubblebutt outwards, trying to seductively present it to the small crowd. He felt his hips wiggle as he bounced his cheeks for the cheering men, screaming the whole time in the inside, but all that came out of his mouth were the lustful moans.

“Finger yourself!” one of the one grunted.

No! No! James pleaded with himself, especially when his head turned and he winked playfully at the men.

With a smack, both of James’s hands slapped down onto his large cheeks. He kneaded them, his fingers sinking into the abundant flesh before spreading them apart to show off his tight hole to the room. The older man was convinced that his humiliation couldn’t get any worse, but then, without any warning whatsoever, one of his thick fingers shoved itself inside his hole.

“OOooooOOHhh!” James squealed wildly with pleasure. He pressed his face against the tiled wall as his knees grew weak simply from playing with his ass. After a little bit of time, the horrified man shoved in another finger, and another, pumping them in and out.

James’s pleas with himself to stop were halted as his ass brought him immense waves of pleasure. The older man had never had anything shoved up his ass before, but now his hole was bringing him pleasure unlike anything he’d ever felt before in his entire 40 years. His moans were ringing out in the shower and they were so loud that he was certain people on the gym floor could hear him— but he didn’t care at the moment. His cock was twitching like crazy and his free hand found its way back to his nipples, roughly tugging on them.

The dual sensations of having his ass played with and his chest worked left the stunned man a moaning mess of hormones. Pleasure waves suffocated him and his humiliation was momentarily forgotten when he spasmed, shooting loads of cum all over the tiled wall in from of him from his untouched cock.

The men cheered as James came before returning to washing themselves, acting almost as if nothing had happened.

It took James a good minute to recover from blowing the biggest load of his life, his muscles still twitching with orgasmic power. He rubbed at his face, not quite grasping the concept that he was in control of his body again. He was so confused as what the fuck had just happened to him. He’d been showering and then all of a sudden, he’d had absolutely no control over his actions and he’d came from just fingering himself. His face was bright red with humiliation over his actions… and shame over how much he’d liked it. His ass still tingled with want, and it took all of his self control to not shove a few fingers up there again.

“Thanks for the show, James,” Adam said as he clapped the silent man on the shoulder. “I can’t wait for tomorrow’s.”

James felt his stomach drop at the thought of replaying what had just happened. The blood drained from his face as he envisioned himself pleasuring himself in front of men again, fingering his hole while tugging on his nipples like some depraved freak.

Worse was that James could feel a stirring in his cock at the thought, a small part of himself looking forward to it.

#James Ellis #muscle #loss of control #slutification #straight to gay

158 notes · View notes

akoyaxs · 7 months

Text

Dangerous Games - I

✮ Pairing: Aonung x Tayrangi/Omotikaya fem reader ✮ Tags: Reader POV, oral sex (fem recieving), p in v, a bet, fighting, sparring, banter, fluff ✮ Word Count: 4.3k Note: this (backstory and character dynamic) is heavily based of my wattpad fanfiction "Dangerous Game", it's just a little more mature than I would post on my WP so I'm doing a Aonung x reader part now instead of the Aonung x OC in the fanfiction ˙ᵕ˙

Aonung has been infuriating since he came to the forest, his family and Rotxo seeking Uturu with the Sully's just as they had several years before in the reef.

Being practically adopted into Jake and Neytiri's family when you too sought Uturu with the Omotikaya after the destruction of the Tayrangi clan, they felt that entitled you to also care for the newcomers. You could get behind helping kind Tsireya and shy sweet Rotxo, but Aonung was a whole other problem. He was absolutely infuriating, and he seemed to be totally obsessed with you.

Neteyam, Lo'ak and Kiri had told you all about what a skxawng he'd been during their first month in the reef, but he didn't seem to be at all deterred by your "forest" features- no, instead you were the one that was slightly haughty to him, something he seemed to take as a challenge. Aonung has been increasingly more and more obvious in his exploits, needing extra help with his ikran, making more sly comments and requesting more private lessons for archery.

So once again here you are, heading further away from the Omotikaya village and into your little clearing by the river where you train him in the Omoticaya ways of fighting and steer him away from the techniques that may have once worked in the reef- but definitely wouldn't work here in the forest.

Aonung has definitely improved in his fighting, a big thanks to your violent and rigorous (at best) training. At least Tsireya and Rotxo are getting less and less scandalised from the injuries he returns with after you're done fighting him.

You can feel yourself growing less and less irritated by everything he does - the stupid way he stares when he thinks you won't notice, the way he tries to make stupid jokes to break your deadpan expression, the way his stupid blue eyes sparkle when you make eye contact - as you start to notice the other things about him.

"Up," you bark as he staggers from a particularly hard kick to his knee.

As you wait for him to recover (he's wasting time being a drama queen), you study him.

The Metkayina have a much more different physique to you. Like his father, Aonung is just ridiculously massive, a good head and a half taller than you are. Did he always look like this, with his hair braided back and muscles taut as he grits his teeth?

He is broad and wide, something you had already noticed, but there are things you hadn't. Like the curve of his shoulders and the way they rolled gracefully when he moved. The sharpness of his collarbones and jawline, or the way his lashes curled so gently. There is a slight X shape to his ribcage, his stomach toned and muscly just like the rest of him, tapering into a slim waist.

"Checking me out?" he grins.

"Yes," you say shamelessly, holding his bright blue gaze. "If only you could use your massive body to fight, instead of lumbering around being a burden for me."

"Well maybe there's something else I could use my massive body for," Aonung says.

You squint your eyes at him then raise your brows.

"We've been over this fish boy," you remind him. "I find your attention ... flattering. But I don't fuck newcomers. Earn my trust, then we can see what happens. It's been weeks, if you're really that desperate for a quick fuck, try the village girls."

Aonung just leans back against the ground and grins up at you.

"You'll find them... easier," you say, curling your lip slightly on the last word. "They like pretty things."

"You find me pretty then?"

This bitch does not listen to a word you say.

"It takes more than a pretty face and some flirty little comments to interest me," you shrug.

"I promised I'd charm you one day," Aonung says, not in the least deterred by your subtle rejection.

"And I said it'd take a century for me to even trust you," you hiss. "Let alone fuck you-"

"So why don't we make another deal then?" Aonung asks innocently.

Your eyes narrow, but you don't instantly shut him down, something he quickly notices because he grins and flops back up.

"If I can beat you in this next fight," Aonung proposes, "then I get to teach you."

"I doubt there's much you can teach me," you say coldly, leaning against the tree and raising your brows at him.

"You'd be surprised," he says, smiling like he knows something you don't. "You're missing out."

"I'm really not."

"You taught me the ways of the forest," he counters. "Then I can show you the ways of the reef."

"Right," you scoff. "Is that just fucking underwater then? Cause I'm not exactly in the mood to be slammed against the riverbed by a clumsy massive skxawng, thanks."

Aonung laughs, the damn muscles in his arms catching the stupid light as he crosses them.

"Are you backing down then?" he grins. "Shame, I thought you were braver than that."

You scowl.

On one hand, you have more pride than to give in to this flirty horny skxawng that pisses you off all day with his neediness and accident-proneness, needing you to make sure he doesn't fall to his death or get eaten by forest creatures every five fucking seconds.

On the other, he knows exactly how to get under your skin. He must have gained something from all those times he just sits and stares shamelessly at you, eyes roving over your body and face as though he's trying to soak you all in and understand you.

And it doesn't hurt that he's probably the tallest, most muscular thing you've ever seen in your life, that his hands alone could almost be double the size of yours, that you're already hot from training.

You haven't had any time for sexual relief since the five Metkayina came to the forest seeking Uturu, and you've hardly had a moment alone with anyone without Aonung needing extra training or some other bullshit.

You're considering it, and you can tell he knows you're considering it, because he straightens up and grins.

"I promise," he says, blinking sincerely at you to mask the glitter in those large blue eyes, "it'll be worth your time. I'll impress you."

"Will you?" you say, raising your brows at him. "You don't have the best stamina when it comes to fighting-"

"Is it a deal or not?" he grumbles. "I have no intention of seeking some village girls."

You blink at this, surprised. You had just assumed he was chasing you to prove some kind of point, and when he got sick of it he'd go and find relief with someone easier.

"Fine," you say.

His ears instantly prick up, as though that wasn't at all what he expected you to say despite the fact he hadn't left you alone for two fucking hours since he came to the forest.

"But remember one thing," you snap. "This doesn't mean anything, nothing intimate, no strings attached. This is a one-time thing that stays between us if you even manage to beat me, which is a big if."

You straighten up as Aonung shrugs his agreement and adjust your stance ready to fight.

To your surprise, there's a glint in his fucking eyes that's familiar, but you've never seen it this bright. It's the same glimmer every time you fight or touch but he always seems to be restraining it, hiding it behind sly grins and stupid smirky comments.

For the first time since you've known him, Aonung looks like he's ready to fight you, that he's confident, determined to win.

Strange that this newfound enthusiasm to finally fight back just happens to coincide with the fact that in beating you, he has the opportunity to finally fuck for the first time since the reef.

"Come on then," you bait him, not fool enough to make the first move. "Don't be scared to fight me, pretty boy."

He laughs, but your narrowed grins quickly fade as you begin to fight.

You can sense the difference now, his blows quick and powerful, eyes narrowed in concentrated determination. He seems to have spent more time familiarising himself with your techniques while you trained him rather than actually adopting them, but he's managing each of your blows with power finally fitting to his stupid size.

You feel your breath growing shorter and yourself slowing somewhat.

Finally, Aonung sweeps his longer thicker tail under you and knocks your legs out in a way that a forest na'vi could never, and you topple down onto the soft forest floor below. Before you can slide away or leap up, he's down as well, pinning your arms above your head with one hand and holding your body flat against the ground with the other.

"I win," he grins, fangs glinting down at you.

"How did you manage that," you squint at him, to which his grin widens.

"Stamina," he whispers slyly in your ears, breath fanning lightly across your neck.

You scoff, very aware of what this now means when you wriggle under him and feel something hard against your thigh.

"That was fast," you comment, grinning up at him.

"I've been waiting for this," is all he replies with before he releases you and is sitting back with a shameless grin.

You have no intention of backing out now. You always keep my word and moreover, you're not going to look like a coward in front of this stupid skxawng. You blink at Aonung, silently waiting for him to make the first move.

Let's see how impressive you are, fishlips.

You half expect him to just pounce on you - like he said, you'd had made him wait a long time. Now you're just hot from the fight and weeks without any relief, and it can't exactly hurt to see what this annoying but grudgingly massive and stupidly hot skxawng has to offer.

When you meet his sparkling blue gaze, there's not a single thing you can read. Usually, his thoughts and emotions are plastered all over his face but now he's holding them close, determined to surprise you. To impress you.

As he shifts closer, you can't help noticing just how large and almost tantalising the bulge in his tewng looks, and you feel my anticipation increase.

But to you surprise, before he does anything, Aonung pauses and blinks at you.

"Are you sure?" he asks with surprising gentleness, and you frown.

"You don't have to do that," you shrug. "You won fair and square."

"You can always stop if you don't want to," he says firmly.

"I doubt it'll come to that," you say with a small incredulous smile at his strange newfound gentleness. "I think it'll be you that can't keep up with me, pretty boy."

Again, Aonung just grins at you before sliding closer.

You're surprised when, instead of flipping you over or immediately moving to grope at you, he kisses you.

He's completely consuming you as he tugs you closer. His arms encircle you, his hands resting gently on your waist and back and hair. He is so warm, smelling faintly of amber and sea breeze.

His lips are gentle at first, tender, exploratory. Then hungry. Everything about you is a total embodiment of your distaste for him and his desire for you as you tangle and move and kiss and breathe.

Then as you feel yourself relax, resigning to the kiss (it's a grudgingly good kiss), and he tugs you closer, lifting you up and into his lap as though you weigh nothing.

You always knew he was strong; he wouldn't be this fucking massive if he wasn't, but this casual display of his strength doesn't exactly turn you off him, especially when his lips trail sideways and find a snug spot on the corner of your jaw, then slide down your neck.

Aonung is confident in his movements, you can feel him smiling against your skin as he kisses and sucks lightly, leaving a fine trail of small bruises. He knows he's a good kisser, and he doubtless knows what he's doing when his hands fall exploratively on the curve of your ass and he gives an experimental squeeze.

Stupid skxawng.

You audibly gasp somewhat, and he gives you a cocky pleased smile.

He's all hot and big and slightly messy, his warm mouth trailing kisses down your neck and hands sliding away your tewng. His eyes are bright with excitement and dark with desire as his hands tug down your tewng.

You reach for his own loincloth, but he's already sliding down your body, hands gripping your thighs tightly. You frown at him as he looks up at you, fangs glinting between his shiny, parted, grinning lips.

"Don't you want to-" you start to say with furrowed brows.

"I said I'd impress you, didn't I?" Aonung points out, still holding your thighs as he spreads them slightly.

"Well, it'll take longer if you-" you start to point out, before the skxawng interrupts you again.

He grunts, like he has all the fucking time in the world with you, spreading your thighs wide and licking a slow stripe up your slit with a flattened tongue. He shakes his head back and forth when his tongue reaches your clit.

You exhale shakily, trying your best not to moan and let him get a big head, but your hand instantly jumps to his hair.

"I could have stuff to do after this," you grumble instead.

Instead of replying or just sticking his damn dick in, he grazes his teeth lightly across the skin of your inner thigh, and you shudder. When he looks up at you and sees your eyes scrunched tight, he grins and lightly nips at your thighs.

You gasp loudly, but the sting is a welcome, warm pain when he lightly licks away the droplet of blood and brushes your clit with a large turquoise finger.

Aonung's grin only widens when you don't pretend to be busy, and he muscles your thighs further apart so he can slide his tongue against your clit again, adding his cool fingers and yanking you forward to bury his whole damn face between your legs.

You can feel your top shifting over your breasts, which are heaving with your shaky breaths in the effort it takes not to cry out when Aonung sucks lightly at your clit.

Your hands are now tangled in the braided bun on his head, and at another light nip at your thighs, you find yourself tugging at his hair. He groans against you as you accidentally tug, trying your best to steady yourself when every five fucking seconds, he has your back arching halfway to the Hallelujah mountains.

"Fuck," you groan, when his fingers hit a deeper spot, and he looks up at you for the first time.

There's a delighted, puppy-playful glint in his large blue eyes, and you realise he's genuinely enjoying this, the curves of your body in his hands, the spit slick and tiny pearls of blood from his bites gleaming on his grinning face.

The fact that you're trying so hard to hide your moans that you're completely breathless now is amusing him, and you realise at some point he tossed your legs over his shoulders so his face is pressed even closer to you.

You moaned, one hand entangled with his braids while the other scratched at his shoulder.

"Go on then," Aonung mumbles.

"Just stick it in," you grumble, stifling your moans long enough to choke out those three words. "I'm fucking ready-"

"Impatient," he smirks against you, before diving back down.

Aonung devoures you, sucking hard and persistent until you cry out, his hands locking you in an iron grip, keeping you spread wide for him. Each time you try to breathe, your breath is knocked away by each movement of his tongue and fingers.

It doesn't take much longer before the pleasure snaps and you're unable to hold back your moans anymore, just sinking your fangs into your hand to block out as much noise as possible, but a flood of moans and whimpers and curses spill out through the clearing as your vision clouds.

Aonung is still sucking when you come back, hands planted tight on your squirming body, and you lightly push away his head from your overstimulated clit.

"Alright," you huff, trying in vain to catch your breath. "You proved your point skxawng."

He looks delighted with himself, a stupid grin fixed on his face which is shining with spit and slick, which he carelessly wipes away with a large hand before sitting back up.

He looks painfully hard now, the seams of his tewng stretching tightly over the massive bulge in his tewng.

"Still more to impress me with though," you whisper lightly, sliding closer so you're now straddling his lap.

A small smile creeps over your lips when you feel his breath hitch as you settle over his lap and he spread his legs enough for you to settle between them. When you finally pull of his loincloth, you can't help feeling stunned at the very least.

He's fucking massive- the same smooth teal colour as the rest of him, adorned with slimmer turquoise stripes and glowing blue tahnì. You can't help reaching out to touch him, and he hisses slightly under his breath as you wrap one hand around his very... sizeable length.

He looks painfully hard, and you can't stop a small grin as you meet his gaze. His face is close to yours, pupils blown wide in his large blue eyes as he watches your every movement with near obsession. But neither of you are bothered to waste more time- it's pretty obvious where this shit is headed and theres no point prolonging it.

"Careful," Aonung nearly hisses when you shift in his lap. "You're still fucking tiny."

You glare at him.

"Not very impressive argument," you point out. "Not a great way to get someone to fuck you."

"How do you want it then," Aonung huffs, tucking your hair behind your ears.

It's a strangely intimate gesture for no-strings one-time sex, and you feel a small shiver at the base of your neck.

"Surprise me," you grin. "You're meant to be impressing me, aren't you."

He just laughs in his usual deep rumbly way before sitting up slightly and lightly pushing gently at your shoulders. You humour him, raising your brows but settling comfortably back against the soft ground.

He grins at your uncharacteristic agreeableness and lines the head of his cock up with your entrance.

Immediately, you know it'll be a stretch, but you're determined to make it work. In any case, you'd rather die before telling stupid Aonung"you're to big".

But when he pushes in somewhat, you both hiss.

You're being stretched further than you ever have, and Aonung is making a strange growling noise under his breath.

He's purring.

"Fuck," he mutters, as he tries to push in a little more and you clench around him. "So fucking- you need to relax."

"I am relaxed," you snap, gritting your teeth and trying to sink yourself deeper.

He looks amused at the sight of you trying to fuck yourself onto his dick, and he tightly grips your hips to hold you still.

"Just breathe," Aonung grunts, looking as though he's trying to hold himself back.

"Just fuc- just fucking put it in," you whine, glaring at him. "I'm not some precious little thing you need to be gentle with, I thought you were meant to be impressing me."

Aonung pauses, looking like he's trying to decide something, then his face hardens and he snaps his hips deep into you. You cry out like a wounded animal and Aonung groans like a dying man.

The stretch is a delicious burn as Aonung rocks his hips deeper, until he's as far in as he's going to get, before he pulls out nearly to the tip. When you turn to glare at him, he snaps his hips forward again and you have no choice but to cling onto him.

His lips find his way on your neck, your nails digging into his broad back as he rolls his hips and thrusts deep into you. You can't hold it back anymore, moaning shamelessly like a whore into his ear all the while scratching your mark into his back.

He, in turn, is moaning and cursing against your neck, his mouth all messy, nipping and kissing along your neck and collar and chest until he reaches your top.

You practically cry out your consent before Aonung is ripping it away - careful not to tear anything because he knows you'd murder him - and tossing it away without a care in the world to be discarded with the rest of your clothes.

He hisses as your tits are freed, bouncing with every thrust and pushed up against his chest as he thrusts deeper and deeper, his large hands coming up to grip them on the border of being too rough.

After a few experimental movements that have you nearly whimpering, he moves deep and quick, spitting curses and groans at the feeling of you around him and the sound of your shameless moans in his ears.

He's whispering nearly unintelligible things against your neck, words of worship, mutters of how tight you are, little praise of how well you're doing.

He's moving at animalistic paces, and you're unravelling into a moaning, trembling mess under him, teeth sunk into his shoulder to try and quiet your sounds, because you sure as fuck can't hold them in.

"Aonung," you hiss, "I'm- I'm close."

"Go ahead then," he grins, before sinking his teeth lightly into your collar.

With that, you unravel, crying out and arching so you're pressed right up against him. Your vision blanks out as everything disappears for a moment, the only sound in the world being your cries and Aonung's groaned curses.

He fucks you through your high, wave upon wave of overwhelming pleasure cresting in white-hot disbelief. Then, when you're done, like a true gentleman, he lets himself go. He's hissing a million unintelligible words against your skin as he spills himself inside you, rocking his hips the whole time until he finally comes to a shaky stop.

"Holy shit," Aonung mutters, flopping to the soft grass beside you.

You're hardly about to admit this to him, but you can feel your body half-turned to jelly, your heart pounding like drums and your skin burning all over from where he kissed and touched and nipped at you.

As though he read your thoughts, Aonung quickly rolls over to look at you, eyes roving all over the bruises and hickeys and tiny bite marks he left all over you.

"Oh shit- sorry," he mutters, noticing the way several small pearls of blood are beading like tiny rubies on your shiny, sweat-slicked skin. "I didn't mean to-"

"It's fine," you sigh, not in the least bothered by the marks.

Or at least, not bothered by the pain of them.

But the little rich purple hickeys and gleaming crimson nips he left across your body just feel like something... more. More than hot, desperate, no-strings-attached sex. They feel intimate and precious, a gift you you and a warning to others.

A claiming.

You stifle a groan as you slide up, feeling stupid and tender yet doubtless euphoric as you twist your dark hair out of your still flushed face and pin it up out of the way.

"So?" Aonung asks, a small, stupid grin on his shiny-eyed face, as though he knew exactly how he did. "Impressed?"

You groan, covering your flushed face and swatting at him, but he just grabs your hand and tugs you closer so you're now inches apart on the soft forest floor.

"Come on," he grins. "It's just us here."

"Fine," you grumble. "You did better than I thought, pretty boy."

Aonung's ears prick up and his tail swishes excitedly behind him at the sound of your approval like a little warrior seeking praise from their commander.

His delight at the bare fucking minimum of your words is slightly pathetic - your response sounded grudging and unenthused even to your own ears - but also kind of totally adorable.

You've done as much as you can to push him away, drive off his ceaseless efforts of amused and somewhat clumsy seduction and try to get him to find other girls and fucking finally leave you in peace. You just hope whatever point he's trying to prove in his strange and inexplicable fixation with you is finally satiated now you fucked.

You definitely don't need the opposite, some ridiculously massive, pussy-whipped reef boy on your ass every fucking minute, trying to get all close and intimate and trusting with you.

You suddenly become aware that both of you had fallen silent, lost in your own thoughts in the aftermath of that ... admirable sex, and you turn back to look at Aonung. His eyes are fixed in your face - not, surprisingly, on your still bare body - and all large and wide and sparkling blue like the shallows of ocean water.

"We should get back to the village," you mumble, not meeting his gaze and quickly reaching for your top to cover yourself.

You feel Aonung frown slightly, know he's going to say something all stupid and intimate and caring as you curl your tail closer around yourself, so you add- "Tsireya and Rotxo will be worried for you."

To your relief, Aonung accepts this hasty pretence and closes his mouth, though you can sense that he still wants to say that sweet thing.

"Doubtful," he shrugs instead. "They know I'm with you - I don't think anything would manage to get close to killing us if you're here."

"How sweet," you roll your eyes, clasping your top back into place and turning to find a small frown on his face. "Very flattering."

"And what do we tell everyone when they ask what happened?" he asks.

"What do you mean?"

Aonung laughs dryly.

"You know perfectly well that those marks didn't come from fighting," he clarifies, glancing pointedly at the various nips and hickeys that aren't covered by my top.

"They could have," you say defensively. "They don't need to know-"

"Yeah well I know for a fact that Lo'ak isn't going to believe that you got hickeys from sparring, or that you tripped and got little bites all along your inner thighs."

You scowl at him and quickly close your legs, but the stupid skxawng has a point.

"Maybe you should have just been more gentle," you point out. "Like maybe not biting and kissing me fucking everywhere."

Aonung just shrugs shamelessly, eyes roving over you again.

"Yeah I'm sure you hated it," he grins. "I could tell by the way you were moaning in my ear the whole time."

You just scowl at him and stalk away, trying your best to walk straight so he won't get a big head about the shakiness in your legs.

"You are such a skxawng," you hiss.

"Alright," he shrugs, hurrying a little to keep up with you. "Whatever you say yawne."

343 notes · View notes

kentoberry · 2 years

Text

YOU GET SICK ! — jjk men.

ABOUT : how the jjk men take care of their sick s/o !

STARRING : toji fushiguro, kento nanami, satoru gojo.

NOTES : gn reader , mention of being throwing up in nanami's part. — this is 100% self indulgent and i can't even hide it. [ minors dni as i post nsft content. ]

TOJI FUSHIGURO

· he's trying his best, and that's what counts.

· at first, you might find that toji accidentally babies you. it's somewhat condescending, but his only experience in dealing with sick people comes from how he perceived nannies in the zen'in clan taking care of poorly toddlers. he'll definitely be making airplane noises when he spoonfeeds you some medicine, and would even swaddle you in cosy blankets like you would an actual baby. although annoying, it's something extremely endearing. you can even see the tips of his ears turn red in embarrassment when you offer him some pointers.

· affection isn't toji's strong suit, but when you're not feeling the best, he's surprisingly sweet (so much that you wish you got sick more often). he knows he's warm, so he keeps you wrapped in not only a bundle of blankets, but his arms too. you can use him like your personal heater, and he won't complain one bit. expect a lot of cuddles and even more forehead kisses !!

· toji also tries to pick up as many household chores as he can ! he'll cook something simple for you, make sure all of the dishes are done, and every room stays mostly spotless. he'll let you help out a little bit (for example, he lets you bark orders at him whilst he cooks!).

NANAMI KENTO

· lord. . . he's perfect.

· nanami is attentive, yet rigorous when it comes to taking medications, eating enough, and staying hydrated. he's working from home whilst you're sick, and will be extremely stubborn if you try to convince him that you'll be okay and that he should go in to work.

· whether you're feeling too hot or too cold, nanami likes to have you lay with your head in his lap. he'll wrap you in many blankets if it's the latter, tucking you in tightly while you watch something of your choosing on the tv. he adores this position because it makes him feel as though he can watch over you best, and he can't deny how darn cute you look whenever you gaze up at him. usually he'll have one arm draped over your torso and another propping up his book.

· speaking of books, if you struggle to get comfortable or to sleep, nanami will offer to read to you. his deep voice is extremely calming, and you'll find youself relaxing in his hold in no time. either he'll simply pick up whatever book is closest too him and narrate a few chapters, or (especially if you're really struggling) he'll grab one of your favourite tales off of the shelf and read it to you.

· you don't need to worry about anything at all, nanami has it covered! he's cooking every meal, ensuring that your cabinets and fridge is staying stocked full, and even taking care of your laundry. further proof that he thought of everything can be seen in the scrunchie that he keeps on his wrist, a quick solution if you find yourself hunched over in the bathroom and need your hair kept out of your face.

SATORU GOJO

· man child.

· satoru is one to boast about never getting sick himself, so when his s/o finds themselves falling under the weather, he panics. shoko has to put her phone on silent because of the wall of texts that he sends her, full of questions and panicked exclamations. she'll offer up some general advice to shut him up, because she can tell that he's acting a little bit overdramatic, even through text.

· when gojo finally gets himself together, he transforms into a big teddy bear. the man doesn't realise that he too will fall ill if he doesn't stop peppering butterfly kisses all over your face. you had to use a chunk of your depleted energy to fend him off of you, but even then satoru refuses to remove his arms from your waist.

· he carries you everywhere too !! he carries you into the bathroom and sits you on the counter whilst you both brush your teeth, settles you down on a barstool in the kitchen as he struggles to find something in his cupboards that isn't overwhelmingly sweet.

· in the end, satoru settles for locating every single blanket and pillow in his apartment and building a makeshift nest on the couches. he orders any takeout foods you crave, and will certainly abuse his power and have some of his students pick up any medications or other things that you need. the remainder of the day is spent bundled up together and watching some of your favourite shows and movies, and satoru watching over you as you doze off in his arms.

2K notes · View notes

imagine-darksiders · 1 year

Text

The Lovelorn King - Chapter 2

Books and their Covers.

Bowser x Reader

--------

King Bowser.

King.

You’re standing in the presence of a King.

Old teachings that have been stitched into the very walls of your mind almost surge forth, and all at once, you find yourself resisting the urge to drop immediately into a curtsey as countless years of rigorous training in etiquette come rushing back to you.

You’re caught wildly off guard. Peach had made no mention of another monarch occupying a neighbouring kingdom. It hadn’t even crossed your mind that Junior was being serious when he boasted that his father was a king.

Still poised with his chest pushed out and his chin tipped back, Bowser’s molten gaze is busy studying your face, no doubt waiting for you to react accordingly to his grand declaration.

Technically, as a queen, you and the colossal Koopa are on equal footing, so you’re under no real obligation to bow to him.

But Bowser doesn’t know that.

For all he’s aware, you’re just another woman who boasts no royal heritage, which is a façade you’d quite like to maintain until you absolutely have to reveal your true nature.

Fine.

… You haven’t had to do this since you last addressed your father…

It stings your pride a little to bend low on your knees and drop your head in a graceful curtsey, entirely missing how the King’s jaw pops open and goes slack with shock.

You’re left with an especially bad taste in your mouth for showing deference to the father of your juvenile kidnapper, but you’re not about to start hurling around accusations just yet.

Here you are, all alone in the fortress of a foreign monarch, unarmed and unguarded.

This seems the kind of situation that best calls for tact, not tantrums.

You’ll have to play this cautiously.

“Your majesty,” you gush, straightening up and smoothing out your skirts, “It’s a… it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Cordial. Polite. The barest show of common decency you can afford.

And yet… Bowser is peering down at you as if you’ve spontaneously sprouted wings.

His brows sit high on his scaly forehead as he blinks at you owlishly, working his jaw open and shut around silent words before he gives his head an abrupt shake, as if to rouse himself from a stupor.

It’s a little alarming, you’ll admit.

Slowly enough that it borders on cautious, he asks, “It… it is?”

And then, in a sudden burst of motion that makes you flinch, he draws himself up again and plants his hands on each hip, letting out a gruff bark of laughter. “I mean, of course it is!”

Everything about him is prodigious, even the slightest twitch of his hands is frighteningly noticeable, and you’re ashamed to admit that you flinch back at his exclamation, unwittingly allowing a tiny gasp to escape between your clenched teeth.

Clinging to his father’s leg like a limpet, Junior peers up at you with his bushy brows furrowed in thought, scrutinising your reaction. After a second, he shifts, patting a palm firmly against Bowser’s solid calf and tilting his head up to whine, “Papa, I think she’s scared.”

You might have refuted him if Bowser hadn’t so suddenly deflated at that moment, his lordly manner all but evaporating as he scans your face with those wild and terrible eyes.

You must have quite the look about you because just like that, the King’s eyebrows launch up his forehead and he ducks his head, half crouching to bring his muzzle level with your face. “Scared?” he echoes, trailing off and lifting his eyes to the guards at your back, locking onto their weapons like a homing missile. The spear heads are still trained on your vulnerable spine.

In a second of misdirected anger, Bowser’s temper flares up, aimed, not at himself, but at his troops.

“Hey!” he barks at the guards, all of whom flinch and cower backwards as their king sweeps a ferocious scowl across their ranks, “Lower your weapons! The heck’re you trying to do - threatening a lady!?”

They recoil in an instant with a chorus of whimpers that hardly befit their once intimidating bluster.

They all but throw their weapons to the ground as they scramble backwards, away from both you and their King.

Twisting about to stare at them over your shoulder in bewilderment, you’re unprepared to feel a warm, scaly paw sweep your hand up, nor for another paw to land on top of it, trapping your appendage between each of Bowser’s immense palms before you can even begin to think of tugging yourself free.

Letting out a gasp, you whip your head back to the King, the muscles in your arms turning stiff with unease. He, however, doesn’t seem to notice your rigid limbs.

In a flash, Bowser’s wrathful eyes turn soft, and a buoyant smile pushes at his round and ample cheeks. “There you go,” he hums pleasantly, giving the back of your hand an astonishingly gentle pat, “No need to fret, my dear. You’re in no danger within these walls. You have my word.”

You can feel the sweat gathering in the cup of your palm, stuck as it is amongst the cage of scaly fingers.

Down beside Bowser’s leg, Junior pipes up, “See? Told you Papa’d take good care of you!”

The King has yet to turn his attention away from your face, too preoccupied with blinking dreamily down at you, his nostrils fluttering open and shut around every breath he draws into those almighty lungs.

You get the distinct impression you’re being sniffed.

“I see you’ve already met my son.”

Somehow, he manages to lean even closer to you until all you can see is his vast, smiling muzzle, armed to the gunnels with fangs as long as your thumb.

Swallowing audibly, you send a flat look down at Junior, who sees fit to grin shamelessly back at you.

“Oh, yes,” you utter thinly, “He’s a real charmer, your boy.”

Evidently oblivious to sarcasm, Bowser expels a lazy puff of steam from his nostrils, letting it waft over your face where it slithers between your parted lips and settles over your tongue with the taste of charcoal.

“Takes after his old man,” he purrs.

He’s keeping you held close enough that you can feel the ensuing thrum travel through your joined hands and spill across your ribcage.

This is getting wildly inappropriate. Regardless of whether he knows of your royal status, for Bowser to maintain this… this… proximity-! While his guards and a child watch on?

It’s scandalous.

It’s improper.

“…. Yes… I’m… I’m sure he does,” you croak uncertainly, struck by the sudden yearning to clear your throat. Swallowing back the urge, you give your hand a surreptitious tug, and after a few seconds, Bowser’s palms ease apart slightly, allowing you to slide your arm through the gap, concealing a sigh of relief. “But I’m afraid there’s… something I really must discuss with you.”

It takes just a second too long for his arms to fall back against his sides. “Oh?” he says, a curious, fiery brow sliding up his forehead as he finally sheds that dopey smile.

Offering him a nod, you take a calming breath and gesture towards the little Koopaling clinging to the giant’s leg. “It… well, it’s about your son.”

You hope that’ll be enough to get him to dismiss the guards behind you, given that it involves the boy, and would thusly indicate a private matter.

But once again, Bowser seems slow on the uptake.

You’re starting to notice a pattern there.

“Junior?” The king’s great snout tips down to acknowledge the young Koopa, who merely returns his father’s gaze with an innocent tilt of his head.

‘Butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth,’ you gripe to yourself.

Aloud, you speak up, “Yes, you see, I’m just a bit concerned about his… Well, I hate to be indelicate about this, but I think his behaviour needs to be addressed.”

You’re too adept at reading a room to miss how the Koopas behind you seem to draw a collective breath, the wooden handles of their spears creaking softly under tightening fists.

Undeterred, you forge on. “Now, while I don’t want to believe that Junior did anything with malicious intent, the fact remains, Your Majesty, that your son stole me away from my ship, the Bonhomous.”

“Stole you?”

Nodding sombrely, you shift to cradle your elbows and cast an anxious glance at the ground underfoot, muttering, “I’m afraid so. I have friends who must be looking for me by now… Captain Skip is probably beside herself with worry…”

Perhaps it should have clued you in on his true musings that Bowser doesn’t immediately react in the way any normal parent might upon learning their child has just kidnapped someone.

As it is, you’re too busy clutching your arms and trying not to breathe too loudly to put much stock into his disconcertingly mild reaction.

“S’that so?” Bowser thrums, deep as a fissure. He turns to quirk a single, flaming brow down at his son, “You take this nice lady from her ship?”

All eyes are on Junior now as he cocks his head at the king and nods, uttering a baffled, “Uh huh?” as if that’s the last question he ever expected to hear.

In response, Bowser presses his jaws together into a hard line and exhales a long, resonant hum through his nostrils. “I see…”

You’re surprised when he swivels his massive snout towards you again and his expression shifts, stretched wide by an appeasing grin. “Say, would you mind if I have a word with my son in private?”

Ah. Of course.

The tension in your shoulders eases a little at his acknowledgment of Junior’s misdemeanour. It makes sense not to cause a fuss in the throne room in front of a visitor.

Inclining your head, you offer the King a polite smile – a silent mark of approval and permission.

Returning your smile with a dip of his great, horned skull, he lays a hand on his son’s shell and ushers the koopaling towards the set of heavy, wooden doors they’d previously come through.

You watch on as their tails disappear through it and it swings shut behind them with an almighty thud, and just like that, you’re left to stand alone once again the company of several, scowling guards and their equally fearsome weapons.

And yet, more than accustomed to being the centre of attention during uncomfortable silences, you swing your hands behind your back and clasp them together, standing tall and patient, one ear trained on the doors ahead.

Several long and arduously slow minutes tick by.

There’s no shouting from beyond the wood, no crying or wailing, nor anything that would indicate an unpleasant conversation is taking place on the other side.

The smallest brush of shame makes its presence known on the walls of your chest. Is it fair of you to have expected the brute of a King to possess an equally tempestuous temper? Perhaps you ought to have better remembered the old morals regarding books and their covers.

Unexpectedly soon, the doors are thrust open again with an abrupt ‘slam!’ jolting you from your musings as the heavy wood strikes against stone walls.

Despite his decidedly explosive entrance, one glance at the King’s muzzle reveals a toothy grin as he comes lumbering back over to you with Junior bounding after him, barely keeping up with his father’s extensive stride.

It doesn’t escape your notice that the boy isn’t looking especially chastised.

“Hope we didn’t keep you for too long,” Bowser announces, trundling to a halt in front of you and dipping his head into a shallow gesture of apology, “You know, I’m loathe to keep a lady waiting.”

You can’t tell if the room’s tension dissipates at his return, or if it grows even thicker.

“It’s no trouble,” you reply thinly.

“So,” Bowser grunts, shifting his weight onto one, thick-set leg, “My son and I have had a little chat.”

A swift glance down at the Junior reveals knitted brows and a childish pout that scrunches up his muzzle as if he’s just eaten something especially sour.

Whatever his father said to him mustn’t have been to his taste.

You have to remind yourself to let out an unsteady breath before it can sit stagnant inside your lungs. “I see… A-and?”

Clasping his clawed hands together with a slap of scales, Bowser bobs his head eagerly up and down and declares, “Seems this whole thing’s just been one big misunderstanding.”

Even with years of practice at keeping your expression strictly unaffected, even you can’t stop an eyebrow from sliding up your forehead.

‘Misunderstanding.’ What a quaint way to refer to a kidnapping.

Deaf to your dubious silence and blind to the thin press of your lips, Bowser plops a meaty palm down on Junior’s head and smooths the young koopa’s ponytail back before he lets it spring up into its prior position – just as unruly and fiery as Junior himself.

True to form, the boy immediately curls his lips and lets out a tinny growl as he throws up his arms, attempting – fruitlessly - to shove Bowser’s hand off his head.

The King hardly pays his efforts a trace of attention, apparently far more preoccupied with beaming down at you as if there’s nothing amiss. “Boy here’s just a little enthusiastic about meetin’ new friends, is all. Ain’t’ya buddy?”

Giving a squeak of indignation, Junior finally succeeds in extracting himself from under his father’s encompassing hand. Arms folded tightly across a rotund, little chest, he scoots off to one side and tips his nose down towards his feet with a grumble, his scarlet brows stitched together across his forehead, casting shadows over beady, black eyes.

“Anyway,” the King adds, “Kid’s got something he wants to tell you…”

Sparing Junior an expectant look, you and Bowser wait for him to speak, yet the youngling seems content to remain stubbornly silent.

“C’mon, kiddo.” One of Bowser’s sizeable paws nudges against his son’s shell, coaxing him to take a step towards you.

Heaving out a petulant sigh, the boy eventually concedes and allows himself to be prodded a little closer, though he looks for all the world as if he wants nothing more than to sink down behind his hunching shoulders and disappear.

“Junior,” his father rumbles, less of a warning and more gentle persuasion.

With far more effort than you imagine is strictly necessary, Junior slowly tilts his head up to look at you, sticking out his jaw in defiance. Yet despite the young koopa’s clear disinclination to speak, his voice is surprisingly solemn when he parts his lips to mumble, “M’sorry… For scarin’ you… And for takin’ you without askin’ first…”

Oh. Well, that’s… not quite what you expected.

As apologies go, you’ve definitely heard better. At least he sounds genuine.

Considering the inconvenience he’s cause you alone, you think you deserve a little more than a lacklustre apology. But then again, he’s young and he’s brash. And, true to his word, you haven’t been hurt.

Leaning back on your heel, you appraise the boy thoughtfully.

Examining the situation as a whole reminds you that he and his father haven’t really harboured any done anything to you with malicious intent. In fact, their guards seem more of a threat to you than Bowser and his son. But that’s to be expected. You’re a strange face in the castle of a King. That alone warrants caution.

This whole situation could have been a lot worse.

A hell of a lot worse.

Bowser is eyeing you carefully – you can feel his stare burning a hole into your forehead, but Junior has returned his gaze to the ground, shame curling his stubby tail up around his leg.

Sucking down a quiet breath, you remind yourself why you left the safety of your kingdom in the first place.

You’re here to forge alliances. To make friends. Your kingdom needs allies.

You refuse to rule with the same uncompromising brutality your father had. And if you can forgive him, you can certainly forgive a child.

Besides, it’ll hardly do to fall out with Bowser and his son over a transgression that never even seemed insidious in the first place.

Hiking up the hem of your skirts, you lower yourself down onto a knee in front of Junior, ducking your head to try and meet his downcast eyes. When he only shrinks a little further into his shell, a patient smile springs to your cheeks.

Your father would discipline you for being too soft with the same hand he used to drag your kingdom to wreck and ruin. You imagine he’d be disappointed if he were here now, watching on as you prepare to accept the apology of a creature who’d kidnapped you.

But he isn’t here now. So, you can hardly disappoint him, can you?

“Thank you, Junior,” you tell the young koopa in earnest, “It’s very good of you to apologise.”

You hardly finish your sentence before the boy’s head snaps up, his dark eyes bursting open wide with surprise.

“It is?” he asks.

Why that should come as a shock to him is beyond you, but… “Of course?” you reply, amused, “It’s the mark of a great ruler to know when you’ve done something wrong, and to accept responsibility in the aftermath.”

You hadn’t thought it would be possible, but somehow, the boy’s eyes grow even wider, sparkling in the light of an overhead chandelier as all the embarrassment he’d carried earlier evaporates like water off a lit stove.

Then, quick as a whip, he spins around to beam up at his father and, to your private delight, begins swinging his tail from side to side.

“You hear that, Papa!?” he barks, jamming a thumb into his proud chest, “I’m already a great ruler! I told you she’s cool!”

Flicking your gaze up the length of Bowser’s titanic body, you meet his stare and offer him a sheepish smile, lifting one shoulder in a shrug.

The King, for his part, is peering back at you with a strange expression lighting up his rugged features, something akin to both veneration and contentment.

Had he expected a different response?

He holds your gaze for a long moment before sparing his son a fond look. “Well, of course!” he announces, “I could’a told you that!”

“Yeah, but… you’re my pops! You gotta say stuff like that.”

The King’s shoulders quake as he laughs, shaking his head and stepping around his son to stretch an enormous paw down towards you.

You only just refrain from flinching.

Bowser remains stooped over for several long moments while you stare at his hand as if it might spring to life and close around your throat like a bear trap. You nearly kick yourself when it suddenly occurs you that he only means to help you to your feet.

Flashing him a grateful look, you hesitate for one last blink before tentatively reaching up to place your hand atop the pad of a single, plump finger. Again, you’re taken aback to find him warm to the touch, though he seems to grow ever warmer under your palm as he gingerly pulls you to your feet again, his eyes locked on where your hand meets his.

“I-uh…” He falls silent, throat bobbing as he swallows around a smile. “I hope this means Junior’s forgiven?”

Hm. You suppose the King, like you, had been hoping to make a good first impression.

To be perfectly frank, up until your unconventional acquisition, his son had been quite endearing.

Junior is still bouncing on the balls of his feet between you and his father, prompting you to lay an absentminded hand on the koopaling’s shell, stilling him for a moment as you reply, “Children are usually very easy to forgive. I’m sure you and I have made our fair share of mistakes when we were young.”

Bowser lets out an abrupt snort of laughter and raises a hand up to scratch at the underside of his chin. “Ha! Yeah, you got that right… Nothin’ I’d want him to learn about though.”

“Likewise,” you concur with a wink that sends a pleasant shudder rolling over the scales beneath the King’s shell.

Bowser can hardly believe his luck. This is going, dare he say, rather well.

You haven’t yet screamed at the sight of him, though at first you’d looked a little green around the gills… No doubt you were simply overcome with reverence at seeing such a fine, handsome specimen up close!

Junior seems to like you, and you in turn have been kinder to his boy than…

Huh… Than anyone outside the family ever has.

You even willingly touched Bowser’s hand!

And you smiled at him.

Him! Bowser!

Stars… How long… How long has he spent trying to coax a smile from Peach? How much time has he wasted showering her in praise and finery only to receive the venom of her glare and a shoulder as cold as the Ice Lands in return?

For anyone else, a smile might be such a mundane occurrence. Negligible.

But to Bowser?

It’s everything.

He wonders briefly if Junior had pulled you down from Heaven itself.

Of course, as he’s often found regarding matters of the heart, good things rarely last.

It happens all too abruptly.

You draw your hand from Junior’s shell and drop it down to your side, fiddling with a fold in your dress as you cast a tentative glance over your shoulder and eye the enormous doors at the back of the room. The alluring tilt of your lips starts to fade.

Bowser finds he misses the sight.

“Well,” you start, exhaling roughly, “I imagine I’ve taken up enough of your time. I should really be getting back to my friends…”

At first, he’s too busy mourning the smile you’d aimed his way to register the meaning behind your words.

In fact, it’s Junior who calls his father’s attention to them.

Spinning about to gape up at you, the little koopa’s grin vanishes. “You wanna leave!? But you can’t!” he cries out, utterly crestfallen.

Leave?

Bowser’s thundering heart gives a sudden, unexpected lurch.

Leave!?

No… No! It was going so well! What went wrong!?

What did he do wrong?

There’s something unfathomably cruel in the act of giving him such a fleeting sniff of happiness after so long, only to rip it from his claws like his heart is something expendable.

Without warning, the King throws his enormous arms up as if to reach out and grab you, prompting you to release an unintelligible exclamation and retreat several steps backwards, clasping your hands to your chest in alarm.

Bowser’s colossal body jolts to a stop the moment your mouth bursts open, and you gasp, shocked.

“Uh…” The King blinks dumbly, flicking his molten gaze between your startled expression and his arms that are still held outstretched before him. Seconds later, he tries to flash you a lopsided grin and hastily drops his arms, chuckling deep in his chest. “I mean, Junior’s right. You can’t go now! You’ve only just got here! M’not about to turf a lady out into the Dark Lands!”

Dark Lands… Even the name alone sends fingers of ice creeping up the length of your spine.

Still, you reason with yourself, Bowser means well. He’s just concerned. Nothing to be afraid of…

“Whilst I appreciate your concern…” you sigh, raising a hand to rub at your temple to stave of the beginnings of a headache, “Junior frightened the life out of the Captain, and her crew.” Shoulders slumping, you add, “I have to go. I have to let them know I’m okay.”

You have a terrible feeling that if you don’t appease your faithful Captain, there’ll be a diplomatic incident.

Junior however, doesn’t seem to grasp the urgent need for your departure.

Screwing his face up, he cranes his neck back to peer up at the underside of Bowser’s chin. “Papa…” he whines, reminding you, again, that you’re dealing with a young child.

Hoping that the King might help you appease his son, you follow Junior’s gaze up to meet Bowser’s eye.

But what you find is enough to freeze the blood solid in your veins.

Everything about the gigantic koopa has pivoted on its axis.

There’s not a trace of warmth to be found in his blood-red stare anymore. Only a scalding heat that could burn cities to ash in a single blink.

It’s a dangerous stare, filled with great and terrible rage.

You’ve never seen a volcano erupt in real life, but you can imagine that it can’t be unlike seeing the gradual glow of hellfire sparking to life in Bowser’s flaring nostrils and spilling out from between the tiny gaps in his clenched fangs.

It frightens you. Shakes your resolve.

You hate that alongside the bone-numbing fear that suddenly sweeps through your body like ice water comes an awful sense of inevitability. At the back of your mind, you can hear a voice that sounds distinctively like your father. ‘Here,’ he seems to taunt you, ‘Here is the monster you first expected to see. Does it sting you to know you should have judged this book by its cover?’

You’ve been itching to leave from the moment you got here. Perhaps now it’s finally time to beat your hasty retreat, electing to feel guilty about hurting Junior’s feelings later.

Bowser’s fiery man has just begun to bristle in the sudden influx of heat wafting off his neck when you at last find the gumption to spin around on your heel and march purposefully at the koopa guards, all of whom have thus far remained perfectly silent behind you.

A growl rolls across the room, low enough that it could have been a grumble of thunder chasing at your heels. But you know better.

Maintaining your composure is difficult, but you aim what you hope is an authoritative glare at the guards, knowing full-well that you’ve never been able to master an effective scowl.

Besides, for as scary as you can try to look, your efforts fall woefully short of the abject horror their monstrous King can strike into their hearts.

At the briefest flicker of Bowser’s lips, they swiftly snap to attention, falling into a line and crossing their spears over the next soldier’s to form a solid wall of scaly flesh between you and the far door to what you assume must be an escape.

The clack of your court shoes on the stone floor scrape to a halt in front of them. You cast each koopa a wide-eyed glance, and they match the look with defiance, silently challenging you to try and break through their ranks.

Your gorge rises, your heart starts to pound, not unlike a wild animal set loose behind your ribcage.

To your back, Bowser’s cumbersome footfalls tromp closer, and when he speaks, there’s a dangerous edge to his voice, barely held back behind rows of crushing teeth.

“Maybe I wasn’t clear enough before,” comes the low, throaty drone that thumps in your chest with every syllable, “When I tell you, you can’t go, I expect you to obey my wishes.”

“O…Obey?!” you bark before you can stop yourself, grabbing your skirts so you don’t trip over them when you whirl about to face the King, “I beg your pardon!?”

You forget, just for a moment, that he’s almost twice your height, and much, much more formidable.

Gone is the cordial rapport. Gone is the slowly easing atmosphere.

Trepidation has been replaced by terror, coupled with a healthy burst of indignation.

Towering above you only feet away, Bowser’s jaws twist up into a toothy smile-come-snarl, utterly devoid of any pretence at friendliness. “You don’t have to beg, you only have to stay.”

Bridling, you ball your hands into fists and retort, “With all due respect, Lord Bowser, you can’t rightly keep me here!”

“And with all due respect, Princess,” he purrs back, “You’re in my kingdom. I can do whatever I like.”

The situation is quickly turning from dire to deadly.

But then again, you’ve faced down a bully king once before and come out of it alive. For the sake of your people, you’re going to have to do it again. Though you despise how leaden your tongue has grown, you try to stand tall and keep your voice from wavering. “Lord Bowser,” you state firmly, tipping your chin back, jaw tight with apprehension, “Please, be reasonable-“

“Reasonable! I’m very reasonable,” he snaps, thrusting a clawed finger at you. You’re beginning to see where Junior gets it from…. “You’re the one being unreasonable!”

Aghast, you sputter, “I have been nothing but cordial about this whole affair! If I want to go back to my ship, the very least you could do it let me leave without a fuss!”

At that Bowser leans his snout down towards you, his eyes flashing like rings of burning embers. “You’re not going anywhere,” he all but seethes.

From the corners of your vision, you see his colossal arms slowly rise up to either side of your hips, fingers splayed out, poised to snatch.

Standing almost nose to snout with the King, you narrow your eyes at him. “If you dare…” you hiss waspishly, “…lay a single claw on me, so help me, I’ll-!”

Perhaps predictably, you nearly choke on your next words when Bowser grabs you around the waist and hoists you unceremoniously up off your feet.

For a dizzying moment, you’re rendered utterly disoriented, leaving your guts behind as you’re swung up through the air. A painful jolt brings you crashing back down to stability. Your stomach lands across a warm, solid surface hard enough to knock the air out of your lungs and something heavy falls over the back of your thighs, pinning you on your belly.

Dazed, you blink several times before the world around you stabilizes once more, only to find yourself squinting down at Junior’s upturned face. “What…?” You push a hand out to try and reorient yourself but at that moment, your world begins to move.

“Gah! What the-!?” Blurting out a strangled yelp, you slap your palms down on a rough-hewn surface and gape past an array of ivory spikes at the ground as it passes by in a blur underneath you.

He wouldn’t….

“Sorry about this, princess,” a gruff voice thrums just behind your head.

Why, of all the rotten, audacious-!

“Bowser!” you shriek, squirming beneath the weight of his scaly palm, “Put me down! You brute!”

Flopped helplessly over the koopa’s shoulder, you kick out with your legs and pound your fists against the lip of his shell as you’re carried off through the doors that he and Junior had come in by, leaving the throne room, Bowser's son, and the guards far behind you.

Vast hallways pass by, as do the unfamiliar faces of gawking koopas, all snapping to attention as their King passes only for their salutes to falter when they catch sight of you, their beaks dropping open in shock.

You make sure to aim a murderous scowl at every single one of them.

"Where are you taking me!?" you demand as Bowser begins to ascend a winding, stone staircase.

His step never falters, not even bearing the weight of a fully-grown woman across his shoulder. "Somewhere you can cool off until you're ready to join me for dinner," he replies shortly.

"I don't understand," you cry, curling your hands into fists and pressing them desperately against his immoveable shell as it finally dawns on you just how much peril you're really in, "Why are you doing this!?"

Squeezing his claws just a little too tightly into the fabric of your dress, Bowser wrinkles his nose and roars, "Because I'm sick n' tired of you people leaving me before you even give me a chance!"

"A chance? A chance at what?!" you squawk, incredulous, "What’re you talking about!? I was just trying to get back to my friends!"

Apparently having decided he's been too forthcoming, the King stuffs his lips together and steps off the staircase, dragging his tail noisily over the ground as he goes.

More of the same, dark corridors flit by as you continue to struggle, walls of basalt illuminated by fiery sconces that cause Bowser’s shadow to flicker and bulge eerily across the floor underfoot until, all too soon, he comes to a standstill at the end of a hallway and turns to face an enormous, wooden door set into the wall.

Without much preamble, the koopa raises a single foot into the air and thrusts it forwards, kicking the door open with such a force that your teeth rattle in your skull and the echo of wood slamming against stone ricochets off down the corridor, eventually fading to silence.

Exhaling a breath from his immense lungs, Bowser carries you, still kicking and squirming, across a well-lit chamber towards the four-poster bed that takes up a prominent position against the western wall.

“Here we are,” he grumbles, fastening both of his hands around your hips and drawing you up off his shoulder with an undeniable care and lowering you onto the silken bedsheets in front of him, ignoring the tiny fists that start to beat furiously against his forearms, “You should be comfortable in here.”

Thick, formidable claws rake gently over your dress as he withdraws his hands.

The very second you realise you’re free, you shoot backwards across the bed like a bullet fired from a gun, scrambling to the other side and almost tumbling over backwards onto the carpet below before pausing long enough to slide your legs down to the floor first, shoving yourself off the sheets and staggering away from the King, all the while keeping the bed firmly between the two of you.

Bowser’s jaw is set, his eyes adhered to you as your spine hits the stone wall behind you.

With nowhere left to retreat to, you plant your hands against the solid surface at your back and stare, wide-eyed at the koopa, your chest rising and falling in rapid succession.

He, in turn, appears lost for words, working his jaw in circles whilst he peers back at you with his brows tilted up at the centre of his forehead.

The standoff continues for an indiscernible amount of time.

Koopa King and hidden Queen lock eyes from across the chamber, neither of you seeing fit to break the overbearing silence that has draped itself like a lead weight over your shoulders.

When at last, Bowser parts his jaws and draws in a breath, you flinch, knocking your head against the wall behind you, all pretence of poise and dignity abandoning you here, where you need them most.

You’re not so proud that you can’t admit you’re afraid.

The sudden change in Bowser’s temperament had been so immediate, so jarring, and that’s what scares you more than his size, his fangs or his claws.

He isn’t just powerful, he’s unpredictable.

The King eyes you for a moment longer before he gives a sudden soft snort and, to both your surprise and relief, he begins to trundle back towards the door.

Grasping the wooden frame in one, gargantuan hand, Bowser hesitates, turning his snout over a shoulder to fix you in his sights once again and pinning you to the wall with nothing more than a look.

“Y’know,” he begins, his voice uncharacteristically soft and almost lost to the high ceilings and the distance between you, “I’m not a bad guy, really.”

You know that he's undoubtably waiting for you to say something, but all you can muster up is a scornful huff, delving deep into the very last reserves of your courage to pull out a reply. “You’ll forgive me if I find that claim absurd.”

Bowser’s only response is a gentle hum accompanied by the slightest nod of his head.

Then, without another word, he drags his eyes away from you and slinks from the room, pulling the door shut behind his tail with a damning thud.

#bowser #bowser x reader #super mario bros movie #mario movie #mario #Bowser Jr #mild threat #it's Bowser come on #the movie was AMAZZZIIIING #Unrequited love #female reader #royal reader

751 notes · View notes

viterbofangirllovestheuntamed · 1 year

Note

why just say the jiang have an unnatural tolerance for spice? why not all flavor? Poisonously bitter, super sour, ultra sweet, the burn of the strongest alcohol, the jiang adore the extremes of flavor and still have very discerning palates and people with iron stomachs are WIMPS compared to the stomach resilience of the jiang, it wasn't on purpose but a true jiang is next to impossible to poison (which definitely helped Jin Ling when he's in Koi Tower)

Despite knowing that they were in the deepest, most isolated safe room in Koi tower, Jin Guangtong couldn't help keeping his voice low. "Thank you for meeting us here. Your... services are greatly appreciated, we assure you."

His fellow conspirators ducked and bowed their heads in agreeing acknowledgements, which went ignored by their guest who sprawled on his cushion like a drunken commoner. "Glad to be here," he grinned, vaguely sarcastic. "What services did you have in mind, exactly?"

"The new Jin-zongzhu." Jin Guangtong didn't think beating around the bush would get them anywhere.

Their guest---blast the man for refusing to give his real name---blinked. "Wow, I didn't think you Jin were capable of being that direct. You want the brat snuffed, eh? Not gonna just use him as your figurehead? Seems like that'd be more your type of thing. What, did his spirit dog shit in your shoes or something?"

The handful of other nobles around the table started blurting out their complaints, heedless of order or dignity. "He's punishing bribery!" "Had my nephew executed for a harmless bit of fun with a servant girl!" "He's auditing the tax collection!"

Jin Guangtong cleared his throat. "The brat is, unfortunately, intractable. Comes from being raised by that asshole of an uncle in Yunmeng. I'm afraid the boy is... idealistic and unwilling to adapt to the realities of ruling such a large and complex network such as Lanling Jin."

Their guest nodded pensively, scratching at his jaw. "I can see your problem. I've got one more question, though. Not to be ungrateful for your admittedly generous payment offer, but why not do it yourself?"

"His lineage is extremely strong," Jin Guangtong sniffed. "The highest pedigree, which means that his golden core is exceptionally strong."

"Plus he's been trained by that paranoid maniac since he was toddling around that backwater swamp," someone to his left muttered.

Jin Guangshan threw a quelling glare over his shoulder, though of course, they had a point. Jiang Wanyin's training had been rigorous to the extreme due to both his and his nephew's insistence that the latter be able to wield the formidable Jin Zixuan's sword when he came of age. And since Rulan would be unlikely to match the sword's strength at first, those Yunmeng bastards had taught him to be deadly with a bow. Because apparently there was no kill like overkill at Lotus Pier.

And speaking of overkill. "We in Lanling Jin are certainly not... unfamiliar with poisons. However, between the strength of the boy's core and the inevitable wrath of Sandu Shengshou, it is imperative that the poison be untraceable as well as effective. Preferably something innocuous that can be chalked up as a tragic accident. A food he is allergic to, perhaps."

Their guest barked out in laughter. "Wait! Wait a minute... you said the kid was raised in Yunmeng, right? And you think he has a food allergy?!"

Jin Guangtong drew himself up in irritation, unnoticed by the cackling man in front of him. "I don't see why not! In fact, noble though our lineage is, our blood has always had a weakness to-"

"Look, look, I understand where you're coming from, I do!" the mysterious man wheezed. "It's just... well, I've spent some time in Yunmeng. In fact, I've even known some Jiang disciples. Frankly, I'm not sure anyone from Lotus Pier can be poisoned!"

"Ridiculous!" another voice scoffed.

"Look," their guest continued, still trying to contain giggles. "The only region that can even compare to Yunmeng for spice is Meishan, and the ruling family of Lotus Pier is half Yu. The whole sect is used to a flavor profile that could kill a Lan at fifty paces, and that's not even taking into account the dares."

Jin Guangtong blinked. "Dares?"

"Oh yeah," their guest drawled, somehow managing to lounge even more. "Those Rangers are insane. The butcher sect might run their people through a crazy level of training, but nothing and no one can survive crazy like a Jiang. They don't even train for it- it's just how they live. Those bastards challenge each other to lick poisoned toads for fun! They will eat anything that comes from the river, no matter how disgusting! And don't even get me started on the so-called 'twelve-day rule'..."

Jin Guangtong decided he didn't want to know. "But surely, as the Jin heir, Sandu Shengshou wouldn't have allowed-"

"Sandu Shengshou?" their guest scoffed. "The man who cobbled together then had to feed an army of massacre survivors and rogue cultivators? The man who spent the first decade of his rule rebuilding his home from a few burnt sticks poking out of---how'd you describe it?---a backwater swamp? The man with the bottomless stomach? Seriously-" he added, abandoning his slouch to stab an emphatic finger into the table. "That man can pack it away like nobody's business. I think his fucking legs are hollow or something...

"Anyway," he continued, lounging once more. "The point is that Sandu Shengshou's perception of what is and isn't edible is... flexible. Especially knowing his shixiong's penchant for supposedly intolerable amounts of chilies."

"Then how do you plan on killing Jin Rulan?" Jin Guangtong spat, throwing his hands up in exasperation.

"Oh, I'm not planning on killing Jin Rulan," their guest grinned, still scratching at his jaw. "I'm planning on killing you!"

Then his scratching fingers began pulling his own face off.

Jin Guangtong and his conspirators all recoiled in horror, a horror that increased one hundred-fold when their guest's discarded face revealed the damnable visage of Yiling Laozu himself!

The reborn master of demonic cultivation twirled the grotesque false face around on his finger. "Neat trick, isn't it? Picked it up from Xue Yang, of all people. Ah well; genius comes in all forms. Now!" He leveled a sinister smile at the gathered men as he raised a black flute to his lips. "Raise your hand if you wanted my beloved nephew dead!"

_____________________

Eventually, the screams faded away into gurgling, then silence. Jiang Cheng nursed a bottle of wine as he leaned against the secret meeting room's door, still glowing purple from his sealing spell. Some of those fuckers had really made a go at it, but none of these lazy Jin were a match for his own spiritual power.

After the silence reigned for a few moments, the wood against his back rattled with a brief knock as his brother's cheerful voice echoed out. "It's done, Jiang Cheng! You can let me out now!"

Jiang Cheng took another lazy swig. "What's the password?"

"Jiang-zongzhu is a little crybaby bitch who can't put his shoes on correctly," Wei Wuxian's voice snarked back, sounding decidedly annoyed.

"Nope, that's not it," Jiang Cheng answered, wiggling the bottle so that the sloshing liquid was audible. "Damn, this really is good wine."

"Jiang Cheeeeennnnnnggggg," Wei Wuxian whined from the other side. "You're so meeeeeaaaaaan! Making me do all the hard work-"

"You wouldn't let me kill them, you bastard! Said I had to keep my own hands clean even though they where plotting against my-"

"-while you lounge around drinking Lotus Pier's finest wine like a mean meanie who's mean!"

Jiang Cheng rolled his eyes so hard he was pretty sure he got a good look at his own brain. "Gods, you really are three years old, aren't you..."

"Let me out, you asshole! You know my core isn't strong enough just yet!"

He considered the wine bottle in his hand. "Say that Yunmeng wine is better than Emperor's Smile."

A scandalized gasp sounded from behind the door. "You wouldn't!"

"What's the problem? It's true," Jiang Cheng shrugged.

"But Emperor's Smile is so delicate!" Wei Wuxian protested. "It's the perfect balance of-"

"Well I guess I'll just go and find someone who does appreciate Yunmeng wine..."

"Okay, fine! Bastard. Fine, Yunmeng wine is better than Emperor's Smile!"

Smirking, Jiang Cheng released the seal on the door. Wei Wuxian stumbled out of the room that now stank of blood and excrement. Jiang Cheng amiably held out an untouched bottle, which his brother grabbed eagerly.

The deviant spilled half the fucking bottle down his chin as the other half went down his gullet, but smacked his lips like a satisfied toddler. "Hits the spot," he crooned. Mischievous eyes locked with his. "Emperor's Smile is still better, though."

Jiang Cheng snorted. "Traitor."

"Barbarian," Wei Wuxian retorted loftily.

The two bothers clinked their bottles together and took simultaneous sips.

#lanling jin #wei wuxian #jiang cheng #jin ling #MOD'S STUFF #asks #prompts #ASK THE MOD #reconciliation fic #post canon #I'M BAAAAAAAACK! Real life has been nuts and a half but things are finally settling down so I'm trying to get back to my beloved hellsite!#UNHINGED YUNMENG DISASTER BOIS

493 notes · View notes

chronicdisasterwrites · 8 months

Text

just you

pairing: itadori yuji x gn!reader

genre + warnings: - FLUFF !!

word count: 856

summary: so, this a song fic, inspired by the song, "nothing" by bruno major. listen while reading this for the full experience!

enjoyyy <3

“Long day today, huh?”

You open your door as you enter, followed by your pink-haired boyfriend. Opening your shoes and leaving them by the door you fall back on your cloud-like bed, hearing a sigh and feeling a familiar weight fall next to you.

“Tell me ‘bout it,” Yuji stretches his arms and pulls you closer to his side. You turn your body and breathe in his scent, resting an arm over his abdomen. Feeling his hand stroke your hair, you feel the stress of the day's rigorous training melt off of you like the rain washing away the dust off leaves.

“So, what do you wanna do?” He asks as his hand stops its movements, causing you to whine and nudge his chest with your chin, urging him to continue. He chuckles and continues stroking your crown.

“I dunno… We can play Mario Kart?” You tangle your legs with his and feel the sweet embrace of an incoming sleep clouding your senses.

Yuji groans half-playfully, half-seriously, “Please, I can't deal with getting my ass beat right now.”

You let out a giggle and hug him a bit tighter, “You’re not that bad.”

You feel his smile against your forehead as he leaves a feather-light kiss, “I am, but it’s fine.”

Exhaling, you hum, “Well, we can watch a movie?”

Yuji hums as he untangles his legs from yours and retracts his hand from your hair, proceeding to stand up to shed his uniform jacket. You lean up on your forearms and watch him carry your laptop back to bed. As he opens it and turns on the power, you get up off the bed to finally change your clothes and wear something more comfortable and loose. You open your designated 'Yuji' drawer, full of clothes you'd previously stolen from him, and fling a baggy t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants toward your distracted boyfriend.

“Hey, I've been looking everywhere for these!”

You get up on the bed and sit next to him, lifting his arm and bringing it around your shoulder, “Everywhere but here weirdly.” You look at him and grin as he narrows his eyes at you, albeit playfully.

“How many of my clothes do you have here?”

You shrug, “So what movie do you wanna watch?”

Yuji looks at you with deadpan eyes as you try to hold back your smile, “Oh, really? So I can choose this time?”

You gasp dramatically, “You always get to choose.”

At that, he barks a laugh, “Yeah sure.” He removes his arm from its permanent spot around your shoulder to type in the name of the movie. He sets the laptop down on the center of the bed and moves back to lean against you, resting his arm back over your shoulder.

You can't control the smile that overtakes your features as you watch “The Notebook” play for the billionth time. Squishing his cheeks you give him a loud kiss on his jaw, “You love this movie, babe. Don't lie.”

Yuji pulls you to his chest and breathes in your scent as his hand returns to your hair and you know he’s smiling from the sound of his voice, “No I don't. It’s stupid.”

Life was unpredictable for you both. There was a lot of death, a lot of pain, suffering, and very little time to step back and just live. So, falling in love was the last thing on Yuji’s mind; with Sukuna constantly chattering about and destroying his mental peace, Yuji had no time to think about anything other than simply surviving and getting through the day, to see the sunrise. Then, he fell in love with you, and somehow, the noises in his head seemed to dim down. They were still there, of course, Sukuna made sure to never give Yuji a moment’s rest, yet all he could ever think about was you. Thoughts of you flooded his mind from day to night; whether you were safe, how your mission went, how he’d like to bring you to the new cafe he discovered with Nobara and Megumi, how your eyes would light up seeing the little bouquet he’d made for you full of wildflowers he'd collected, how your cheeks would turn red when he’d give you a sly kiss on the nape of your neck when Gojo-sensei wasn’t looking, how you’d sing whatever song is in your mind and do a little shoulder dance to accompany it. When he’s fighting curses, he thinks of how quickly he can kill the curse so he can rush back home to find you and lay around doing absolutely nothing for the rest of the day. You saved him from sinking into the depths of his mind. Saved him from being dragged down by the claws of the king of curses and the expectations of the world. With you, he’s just Yuji. With you, doing nothing is a luxury.

A soft poke to his cheek snaps him back to reality, “Hey, what’s on your mind?”

He sighs and gazes down at you, smiling and leaning down to gently kiss the little pout on your curious face.

“Nothing.”

------------------------------------------------------------

a/n: i had to write smth for the greenest flag the world has ever seen <3 also, this is my first official attempt at writing a song fic so if you liked it and wanna see more, feel free to hmu in the asks or messages!

taglist: @thepup356, @porridgesblog, @stray-npc, @daisy-the-quake, @reignsaway, @ainetx, @icarusignite, @mariapierce789

#itadori yuji x reader #itadori x reader #itadori yuuji #jujutsu kaisen #itadori x you #yuji itadori #itadori yuuji x reader #jjk itadori #jjk fluff #jjk imagine #yuuji itadori #itadori fluff #itadori yuji x you #jjk drabble

131 notes · View notes

milkywayhou · 28 days

Text

You've Got Email (König x OC: Medical Student!Snow) PART II

Summary: When the Colonel from some Private Military Corporation group accidentally send KorTac's secret file via email to a random civilian girl and now they develop some weird relationship.

TWs: Curse words (from Snow), slow burn (kinda). I just wrote this for fun

Words Count: 3k (The email contain 2k+ words while the rest was Snow's 4Chan post)

----

From: [email protected]

To: Colonel_Kö[email protected]

03/16/23 at 00:16 am

Subject: Paper Killing Me Slowly

Looks like my essays have finally done me in, Colonel. I officially declare these assignments a cruel and unusual form of torture. If my crippling debt doesn’t end up being the death of me, it’ll definitely be this never-ending pile of papers.

I swear my professors are deliberately trying to break me with their sadism disguised as “learning.” At this rate, I’ll be old and gray before I actually get to practice real medicine.

You’re probably chuckling over there in your super secret PMC headquarters, happy that my suffering brings you some minor amusement. Let me tell you, it’s not very fun on this end! By the way, since you never seem to shut up about your big important KorTac work, I did a little digging on you guys out of sheer boredom the other night. Let’s just say your organization isn’t exactly the most transparent, is it? Not that I expected any less from a sketchy bunch of psuedo-military operatives.

But what can I say, you’ve piqued my curiosity Colonel. There’s clearly more to you and your operation than meets the eye. Not that I actually care or anything…

Dying a Slow Death by Paper Cuts,

Snow

----

From: Colonel_Kö[email protected]

To: [email protected]

03/17/23 at 07:15 am

Subject: RE: Paper Killing Me Slowly

About time you resurfaced from whatever academic torment was keeping you occupied, doctor-in-training. Unlike some, I’ve work that can’t be put off for frivolous distractions like “curiosity.” While your professors’ standards may seem unduly harsh, rigor is integral to developing excellence. Quit your complaining and buckle down.

As for digging into KorTac’s operations, I’d suggest focusing energies inward on your own development instead. What we do is of no concern to civilian meddlers seeking petty entertainment.

Now then, your well-being – have you been maintaining proper rest and nutrition amidst studies? Medical training will matter little if you work yourself into an early grave. Take care not to bite off more than you can chew, doctor. Your potential is wasted by burning the candle at both ends.

Stay vigilant. And do try to check in more frequently going forward. Ensuring no volatile elements fall through cracks is priority, after all. But you knew that already.

Colonel König

KorTac Commanding Officer

----

From: [email protected]

To: Colonel_Kö[email protected]

03/18/23 at 02:26 am

Subject: RE: RE: Paper Killing Me Slowly

Ooh, is the big bad Colonel actually concerned for little old me? How touching. Don’t worry, it’ll take more than some papers and late nights to do me in. I’m tougher than I look!

Though I appreciate your oh-so-subtle inquiries into my well-being. It’s cute that you care, in your own gruff, annoyed kind of way. Really warms the heart.

As for your warnings about focusing inward – I’ll have you know theoretical pondering is a crucial part of intellectual development, unlike SOME people who just brood and bark orders all day. Live a little!

Besides, you’re far more interesting to think about than cell membranes or DNA transcription or whatever the hell I’m studying these days. At least you provide some entertainment value while also agitating that permanent stick up your butt.

Not that I’d ever actually chew on you or anything…or would I? You’ll never know! Consider it some encouragement for YOU to stay vigilant as well, Colonel Killjoy.

Try not to miss me too much! I’ve got my course to slowly finish killing me. Ta ta for now ~

Snow ;*

----

From: Colonel_Kö[email protected]

To: [email protected]

03/18/23 at 03:04 am

Subject: A Question of Priorities

Hmph. Always with the fanciful notions and attempts to get under my skin, aren’t you girl? As amusing as your antics may be at times, they divert from more pressing matters.

Why is it you seem to find time for this inane correspondence, yet claim such a full schedule? Have you no family, social life or other obligations beyond schooling that demand attention? It’s late – most functional humans your age are asleep at a respectable hour.

Or is replying to my messages now the highlight of your days? I fail to see what could possibly be so engaging about our exchanges as to warrant daily disruptions to your studies and rest. Do explain, medic, before I’m forced to conclude it’s some misguided fixation driving this behavior.

Now then, I’m certain both our times can be better spent. This will be my last correspondence on the subject unless you’ve a sensible reason for continuing. I expect a clear one if we are to correspond further. Is that understood?

Colonel König

KorTac Commanding Officer

----

From: [email protected]

To: Colonel_Kö[email protected]

03/18/23 at 03:13 am

Subject: RE: A Question of Priorities

I can’t believe I’ll live to see you wrote ‘Hmph', but oh well.. No need to get so worked up over a little late night emailing. You’d think I personally offended your entire army or something with how tightly wound up you always are.

To answer your interrogations – no, I don’t have much of a social life between school and work. All my friends are in the same crazy overloaded boat. And family’s not really in the picture anymore, so it’s just me.

As for why I reply to YOU – it’s certainly not any fixation, don’t flatter yourself. I often check emails late at night to make sure I didn’t miss anything from professors. And sometimes replying to your grumpy missives provides a brief distraction/comic relief from the academic stress barrage. Not like you give me much else to look forward to in my messages other than another lecture on “priorities” or thinly veiled warnings about security. Add some fun or levity once in awhile why don’t ya?

Might improve that permanent stick up your butt situation. :)

Anyways, I don’t see how this harms anything. If anything, it’s helping me decompress from the intensity of my program for a moment. But don’t let that inflate your ego – you’re really not THAT interesting, Colonel.

So relax already. I have my priorities in order. Now are you done interrogating me, or can we get back to our regularly scheduled program of friendly pestering via email?

Barely slept,

Snow

----

From: [email protected]

To: Colonel_Kö[email protected]

03/17/23 at 03:20 am

Subject: RE: RE: A Question of Priorities

Look, I’ll admit you’re…more interesting than most people I could be corresponding with at this hour. There, I said it. Are you happy now?

I have way bigger fish to fry at the moment than whatever mind games you’re trying to play with your interrogation emails.

So let’s call a truce on analyzing each other’s motivations too closely, yeah? I’ll focus on my “priorities” as much as possible, and you can go back to doing…whatever it is you ominous PMC dudes do all day. And we’ll both be happier for it.

Anyways, I better get back to hitting the books. You take care, Colonel. Try not to have an aneurysm overthinking all this too much!

Snow

P.S. Please say something nice back for once instead of another lecture. I dare you.

----

From: Colonel_Kö[email protected]

To: [email protected]

03/18/23 at 08:47 am

Subject: RE: RE: RE: A Question of Priorities

Very well, consider the matter settled as far as I’m concerned going forward. Your reasons for continuing this…discourse seem harmless enough, and who am I to deny you an outlet of levity in trying times. Though I stand by my advice on maintaining focus.

As for what we “ominous dudes” occupy ourselves with daily – it’s primarily strategy, training, intel analysis and security planning, you named it. Not as exciting as how the tabloids depict, I’m sure. Mostly tedium with moments of terror.

In any case, we all have our burdens to shoulder. Yours may differ from mine, but remain no less important in their own domain. So chin up, and do carry on with your studies unhindered whenever renewed vigor is needed. Perseverance is the quality that leads to true achievement against the odds.

Now then, I’ve said my piece. Take care, Farron.

König

----

From: [email protected]

To: Colonel_Kö[email protected]

03/18/23 at 12:20 pm

Subject: A Brief Observation

Dare I note the absence of your typical rigid sign-off that just screams “I’m an important military man, hear me roar!” Could it be you’re loosening up ever so slightly after our numerous exchanges? Developing a bit of a soft spot for little old Snow, perhaps?

I knew there had to be more beneath the surface of that tough-as-nails exterior of yours. Everyone has layers, after all – even secretive PMC commanders who like to pretend they’re robots without emotions :p

Anyways, I should let you get back to your no doubt very serious operations instead of speculating on your hidden depths. Just wanted to say thanks for the rare pep talk, Colonel. I’ll be sure to keep that determined spirit thriving even on my darkest academic nights.

Now get back to work! And try not to think too much about whether this means we’re actually becoming…friends???!. *gasp* That is, if your heart can handle it without exploding first.

Ciao for now~

Snow

----

From: [email protected]

To: Colonel_Kö[email protected]

04/04/23 at 10:56 pm

Subject: Radio Silence

So are you really going to leave a girl hanging with no reply, Colonel? I know you big tough military types are always running off on secret missions and whatnot, but c'mon, at least let me know you're not dead in a ditch somewhere.

It has been, what, over two weeks since our last correspondence? That's got to be some kind of record for you.

Wonder what'd have you all occupied that you can't even spare 5 minutes to tell me to get lost.

Please don't say you finally got sick of my pestering and had me discreetly eliminated from a distance. That would just be rude. And boring! I thought we had something special going here.

Joking aside, do try and stay safe out there - whatever "there" may be. The world of medicine could always use more capable folks like yourself, for better or worse.

Anyways, dropping you another line just in case you check email between top secret missions. Don't be a stranger for too long, alright Colonel Grumpy Face? I'll be here annoying as ever when you get back.

Snow

----

From: [email protected]

To: Colonel_Kö[email protected]

04/10/23 at 02:53 am

Subject: A Brief Addendum

Ugh, I don’t know why I’m even telling you this in my state but…I guess you're on missions, but this radio silent make me worry, you know. The lack of contact, not knowing if you’re alright. It’s infuriating. I try not to think about what might happen to a control freak like you out in the field but it creeps in anyway.

Just come back in one piece next time, you hear? As grating as you can be, these exchanges have become a constant. Don’t you dare go getting yourself killed, König. Idiot.

Snow

----

From: Colonel_Kö[email protected]

To: [email protected]

04/17/23 at 08:01 pm

Subject: Delayed Response

Farron,

Apologies for the lack of reply these past weeks – mission took longer than expected due to unforeseen complications. Extracting our assets took priority over trivialities such as correspondence.

Debrief and post-op work ongoing, so this must be brief. Merely wanted to assure you of my return and wish continued success moving forward. Consider this an open line should pressures seem insurmountable.

Now back to the grind. Take care, Farron.

König

----

From: [email protected]

To: Colonel_Kö[email protected]

04/23/23 at 01:29 am

Subject: Drunk Musings from Your Favorite Medic

Colonel Köniiiiiiiig!

Hope debriefing is going well or whatever very secret soldier stuff you’ve been doing. Took you long enough to check back in, mister big important commander man! Anyways, I just wanted to share some very deep thoughts I’ve been contemplating after many drinks with fellow stressed out med students. You see, I have this theory…

Your call sign, König. That means King in German right? Very regal and powerful choice if I do say so myself. But it got me thinking – why choose that name, hmm? Is it to hide some deep insecurity and need to always be in control? A way to cope with feelings of inadequacy by lording power over others?

I crack the code, Colonel! You’re really just a big softie inside who picked König to hide your true emotions. How else can you explain putting up with talking to lil ol me all this time, huh? There has to be some secret weakness in there somewhere for you to entertain my antics so much!

Anyways, thanks for listening to my very serious conspiracy analysis brought to you by many tequila shots. Please feel free to deny everything and lecture me more in your next email sober Snow! Gotta go pass out now zzzzzzz.

Your favorite Inebriated medic,

Snow 🥴

----

From: Colonel_Kö[email protected]

To: [email protected]

04/23/23 at 04:48 am

Subject: RE: Drunk Musings from Your Favorite Medic

Farron,

It seems your dedication to unraveling mysteries extends even to matters best left untouched. While I appreciate your concern in your addled state, speculating on subjects beyond your clearance level will only lead down unproductive paths.

As for my call sign’s meaning, names are but signifiers – their derivation holds no relevance to function.. I lead to secure progress, nothing more; what I choose to call myself matters not.

Now then, onto more constructive matters – have you recovered from your overindulgence? I trust your studies aren’t suffering unduly.

Stay focused, stay determined. All else will sort itself in due time. Now get some rest – I’ve operations to oversee, as always. Perhaps next we’ll converse under calmer auspices. Take care, Farron.

König

----

From: [email protected]

To: Colonel_Kö[email protected]

04/23/23 at 11:24 am

Subject: RE: RE: Drunk Musings from Your Favorite Medic

Good morning Colonel,

Ugh, I vaguely remember sending those emails last night and…wow, what a mistake that was. Please accept my sincere apologies – drinking too much and spouting off about things I have no business speculating on was beyond idiotic and uncalled for.

The tequila clearly had a stronger hold over my judgement than I realized. I hope I didn’t offend or overstep any boundaries with my drunken ramblings. You of all people don’t need me stirring up nonsensical theories in your line of work.

Woke up with the worst migraine too, so that’s my penance I suppose. A stark reminder not to mix heavy studying with binge drinking ever again! Lesson well and truly learned there, I assure you.

Anyways, I’ll leave you to your important duties. Thanks as always for tolerating my antics, even when they’re fueled by alcohol. I’ll be sure to keep future correspondence more sensible. Apologies again, and have a good day! Ughhh.. the sun is too bright today

Your favorite regretful medic,

Snow

----

From: Colonel_Kö[email protected]

To: [email protected]

04/23/23 at 12:01 pm

Subject: RE: RE: RE: Drunk Musings from Your Favorite Medic

Farron,

Water under the bridge. Focus on recovery and studies, leave past indulgences in the past. You’ve a bright future; guard it well.

No further need for apologies. Your potential is why I continue our exchanges, however unconventional. Now focus inward – your wellbeing is priority one.

Get some rest. We’ll converse again once equilibrium returns. Take care.

König

----

From: [email protected]

To: Colonel_Kö[email protected]

04/24/23 at 07:10 am

Subject: Cat Tax (Don’t Open if Allergic!!)

Good morning Colonel,

Feeling much better after sleeping most of it off. Thanks for being so understanding as always – you’re really not so bad once you loosen up every now and then.

Anyways, since we’re always discussing serious matters, I thought I’d lighten the mood by sharing some pictures of my precious furball Luna. Maybe they’ll provide a brief smile during your no doubt super secret soldier day.

Attached file:

-Luna_SpyingOnTheNeighbors.jpg

-Luna_ContemplatingWorldDomination.jpg

-Luna_FloofOfAnnoyance.jpg

Don’t say I never bring you any joy, mister serious! Hope you’re having a decent one so far. Chat later – I’m off to class.

Your favorite medic and part-time cat model agent,

Snow

----

From: Colonel_Kö[email protected]

To: [email protected]

04/24/23 at 10:37 am

Subject: RE: Cat Tax (Don’t Open if Allergic!!)

I must admit, those images provided a brief reprieve from the tedium of paperwork. Your feline companion appears quite the charismatic specimen.

“Luna_SpyingOnTheNeighbors.jpg” made me chuckle – she seems to take her surveillance duties quite seriously. And who can blame her for fantasies of domination in “Luna_ContemplatingWorldDomination.jpg”? Such ambitions are understandable.

As for “Luna_FloofOfAnnoyance.jpg”… let’s just say I know that look all too well from subordinates who try my patience. Quite the fitting names for her photos, med student. Well done.

In any case, please extend my thanks to your cat.

Now back to the grind. Go learn and make that clever mind of yours even sharper, Farron. I expect top marks, as always. Keep well, Farron.

König

…

From: [email protected]

To: Colonel_Kö[email protected]

04/24/23 at 10:40 am

Subject: RE: RE: Cat Tax (Don’t Open if Allergic!!)

Are you a cat person?

----

From: Colonel_Kö[email protected]

To: [email protected]

04/24/23 at 10:52 am

Subject: RE: RE: RE: Cat Tax (Don’t Open if Allergic!!)

An astute observation – yes, I harbor a soft spot for feline companions. Their self-reliance and pragmatic nature resonate. As young recruits, we briefly had a unit mascot that served morale well until retirement.

Now get to studies, Farron.

König

----

From: [email protected]

To: Colonel_Kö[email protected]

04/24/23 at 03:17 pm

Subject: Luna Photo Bomb

Colonel,

Thanks for indulging my curiosity about your feelings on felines. As an appreciation for your candor, I want to share something more with you – my Luna photo archive!

I’ve uploaded my entire photo folder of my furry friend to my G-Drive. The link is here:

https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1XYZ123

In there is a folder simply called “Luna” with nearly 10,000 photos documenting her entire life so far. I know you said you appreciated the brief distraction, so feel free to browse to your heart’s content if you have any downtime!

Just a warning though – my other personal folders are in there too, so please don’t go nosing around elsewhere. Luna folder only, got it?

Enjoy (or not?) and let me know if you have a new favorite shot of her royal fluffiness. Now back to the books for me. Stay safe out there!

Your favorite cat photographer,

Snow

----

From: Colonel_Kö[email protected]

To: [email protected]

04/24/23 at 09:39 pm

Subject: RE: Luna Photo Bomb

Farron,

I appreciate the gesture, but while I’ve no doubt Luna’s archives showcase captivating moments of her royal adventures, discretion is my foremost duty. Perhaps another time, under less sensitive circumstances.

For now, your updates on her antics and insights into companionship are solace enough.

Stay focused on your studies. Your quick mind will serve lives one day. As for myself, duty calls me elsewhere once more. Take care and give Luna a pet for me. Until next time.

König

----

>>Anonymous

05/05/23(Fri)00:29:59 No.132921714

Feelings for a shadowy Colonel dude…help??

Image: [Sad peppe with glasses.jpg 204kb, 400x400]

>Be me, a tired med student swamped with exams

>Get random encrypted email from some “Colonel” guy

>Inside is classified military info about shady PMC ops

>Decide to fuck with him for laughs since have death wish from stress

>Surprisingly he actually replies and doesn’t leak my info

>Realize he’s actually pretty interesting under the hard ass exterior

>We start casually emailing about life and work

>Turns out Colonel guy has sorta relatable perspective on things

>Months pass and our talks become one of the few bright spots in my week

>His dedication is admirable, even if his job seems emotionally taxing

>Learn he actually has a soft spot for cats and sense of humor under layers of protocols

>Physical appearance is unknown but I picture tall, handsome grizzled badass (don't ask me why)

>Problem is I think I’m starting to actually like this enigmatic online friend???

>Nothing will ever happen since he’s eternally deployed and I barely know him

>But I look forward to his messages and appreciate his advice

>TF do I do anons??? How do I stop these growing feelings for a shadowy rando I email???

Pls help, this med student doesn’t need any more stress :’(

Anonymous 05/05/23(Fri)03:12:29 No.132921892: >>132921714(OP)#

I’d say don’t overthink it. You clearly care for him as a friend. Keep things light, see where it leads once you’re both free. Lives with purpose are sexy; maybe there’s potential. Just live in the present for now 

Anonymous 05/05/23(Fri)03:56:33 No.132921904: >>132921892#

Thanks anon, you make a good point. We clearly get along well so maybe it’s worth exploring more after graduation. I’ll try to just enjoy our talks and see what happens naturally.

Anonymous 05/05/23(Fri)07:34:02 No.132922100: >>132921714(OP)#

I’d be careful, he’s in a position of power over you. Just make sure you aren’t getting emotionally manipulated without realizing. Stay wise and protect your heart sis <3

Anonymous 05/05/23(Fri)12:49:44 No.132922146: >>>132922100#

you’re so right, anon. I’ll be vigilant for any imbalance since he knows a lot more about me. Our relationship so far has been respectful, so hopefully it remains that way. Thanks for looking out, it means a lot <3

Anonymous 05/05/23(Fri)11:57:06 No.132922468: >>>132921714(OP)#

Pics or it didn’t happen (of the cat). Also military guys are freaks, be cautious but maybe have fun while you’re young! You never know what could happen.

Anonymous 05/05/23(Sat)08:14:26 No.132922513: >>>132922468#

Image: [Luna_yawning.jpg 958kb, 500x500] Here’s the sweetie in question! And good point, I’m gonna stay cautious but keep an open mind. This med student is gonna enjoy her 20s however they play out ;) Thanks for all the advice anons!

Just quick update haha. I happen to have many free time today :D

Also, Comment, Love and Reblogged are very appreciate! 💖

#könig cod #konig mw2 #cod mw2 #cod fanfic #könig x oc #könig mw2 #cod x oc #cod oc #könig call of duty

42 notes · View notes

wzrd-wheezes · 1 month

Text

The Wolf's Arms: Part One. Marauders x Reader

This is a purely self indulgent fic about two things that I love. The marauders and the pub. This will probably turn into a series of fics that don’t really link because I have so many ideas for it. It’s not set in a particular time period, mainly like 70’s ish but there might be some modern things sprinkled in along the way just for shits and giggles. Sorry if that’s annoying but I love creating my own time period so I can have things exactly the way I want them haha. Please let me know if this fic is hard to understand as I know there will be a lot of references to UK culture things along the way (not in this part I dont think) – feel free to drop me an ask if there’s anything you don’t understand/want me to explain. This is a platonic!marauders x reader fic

Friday night pub nights had become a monthly occurrence for them now. It was any excuse really. Sad? Pub. Celebrating? Pub. Hungry? Pub. Traumatic life event? Pub. The four of them had become regulars now. Every time sitting at the same table in the back. The landlord often joked with them that the pub would go under if they ever stopped coming.

It had taken them a while to choose a pub. Their pub. It was a meticulous process that they all took very seriously. They had spent countless nights doing pub crawls throughout the city, trying to find which pub suited them best. Best beer on tap, best prices, within walking distance so they could stumble back home.

“That one’s my favourite so far.” Remus decided one night as they left the third pub on their pub crawl.

Sirius barked out a laugh, slinging an arm around Remus’s shoulders. Partly in mock affection, partly to steady himself after the few drinks he’d had. “You’re only saying that because it’s got the cheapest pints so far.”

“You’re easily swayed, Moony.” James shook his head at him, leading the group to the next pub along the street. Just as they rounded the corner onto the next dimly lit street, Y/N interjected.

“Speaking of sway, did anyone else notice the shady bloke in the corner?” a grimace contoured her features, “I swear he was selling meat from his jacket.”

“Hah! The infamous Hog’s Head Meat Man!” James exclaimed, a grin spreading across his face. “Sure, he’s a dodgy one, but he’ll give you a good deal on some bacon if you’re brave enough to ask.”

“Yeah. I don’t really fancy eating some blokes pocket meat, thanks though.” Sirius scrunched up his face in disgust, “Where to next?”

Undeterred from the last shady establishment, they pressed on, venturing into a number of different pubs, until finally, they stumbled upon one that felt like home. It was tucked down a narrow alleyway, easy to miss if you weren’t paying attention.

The inside was dimly lit from the mounted wall lights, casting soft shadows against the exposed brick. The air was thick with the smell of cigarette smoke and spilt beer – a scent which sounds disgusting but made the four of them nudge each other and grin as they stepped inside. The actual bar spanned about half the length of the room, polished mahogany adorned with rows of brass taps, their labels worn and faded with age.

Mismatched tables and chairs filled the space, ranging from rickety wooden stools to worn, plush armchairs. Each table, although being scratched from rigorous cleaning, still had the infamous sticky sheen to it that all pub goers will be familiar with. Much to their delight an old jukebox stood proudly in the corner of the room, Remus immediately fumbled in his pocket for some change.

“Typical Moony. Straight to the jukebox instead of straight to the bar.” James teased as he leaned over the bar to survey the selection of beers on tap. Remus, who had already begun to select songs, looked up momentarily only to flip the bird at James.

While James got the round in, it was left up to Y/N and Sirius to decide what table the group would settle on. After a quick once-over of the pub, they decided on a table in the corner, nestled beneath a dimly lit lampshade, and much to Remus’s delight, only a few steps away from the jukebox. With a nod of agreement, they made their way over to claim their spot.

Precariously trying to carry four pints in only two hands, James returned a moment later, putting the glasses down on the table with a soft thud, some of the liquid sloshing over the edge.

“Cheers, you lot.” Remus exclaimed, raising his glass. The group, a few pints deep and sporting glassy eyes and wide smiles, joined in, clinking their glasses together.

“What’s the verdict on this place?” Sirius asked, taking a sip of his beer.

“Well-” Remus started.

“Ah, ah, hold it right there.” Y/N interjected, “After your last ‘gem’ turned out to be the Hog’s Head, I think we should put your pub-picking privileges on probation.” she punctuated her remark with a playful jab to Remus’s ribs.

“Hey! It had character!” Remus feigned offense, “and besides, it’s not my fault that they had a creative idea of what hygiene is.”

“Creative? I’m pretty sure that I saw two rats shagging in the corner.” Sirius retorted, earning a round of laughter from the group.

“Alright, alright.” Remus conceded, holding his hands up, “the Hog’s Head was a bit of a shitter, but this pub’s a winner, yeah?”

“Agreed,” James chimed in, raising his glass once again, “To new beginnings and hopefully less questionable pubs!”

“To less questionable pubs!” the others chorused, once again knocking their glasses together before taking a large swig of their drinks.

“I feel like we should have toasted this pub. Just because I’ve decided that this is the best one.” Y/N said, looking around thoughtfully, “Although, I didn’t actually get a look at the sign before we came in, so I couldn’t actually tell you what it’s called.”

“The Wolf’s Arms!” a voice called out from the other side of the room. They all snapped their heads round, curiosity piqued, and their eyes fell on a lone man seated at the bar. His cheeks were flushed from the booze, and a cigarette dangled from his lips.

“To The Wolf’s Arms!” they echoed, toasting for the third time that night.

#marauders x reader #platonic marauders #remus lupin #sirius black #james potter #platonic marauders x reader #marauders fanfic #marauders fic #marauders era

43 notes · View notes

billthedrake · 1 year

Text

ORAL FIXATION (PART FOUR)

It was Dad's idea but I don't know why I hadn't thought of it. He didn't even bring it up with me in advance. Instead he sprung it one night at dinner.

"So..." Dad said to Mom as we ate. "Junior's gonna help me get in shape. "

Mom laughed and looked over at me. "Is that so?"

I played dumb, like I knew what Dad was talking about. "Um, yeah."

"He's letting me tag along on his morning runs," Dad chimed in before I stumbled too much. "And we have a whole gym workout planned, too."

Mom seemed surprised and amused. Dad was a good looking guy with some solid muscle on him, but he spent a lot of time at work, and though he was on his feet most of the day, a doctor doesn't have the most active job.

She looked back and forth between me and Dad. "Well, good for you men," she said, smirking some.

***

I felt a little bad, because I had a good idea what Dad had on his mind. We were both up early the next morning, a little before dawn even. I'd seen Dad in his gym clothes before, but it had been a while, to be honest. But they showed off his hairy meaty legs as we did stretches in the driveway, feeling the cool morning air.

"Where you run to, son?" he asked.

I told him my route and the distance I normally did. We lived a half mile from a park with a nice trail system, so it gave me some variety. "We don't have to do the whole thing, Dad," I said, pulling back my heel to my glutes for that extra stretch, then the other leg. "Just let me know what you're feeling."

"I'm a little out of shape," he admitted. "But I'll keep up."

He did, too. Pretty well, though I knew my pace was faster than his. I slowed down some, but I had that teenage energy working for me. I looked over at him after a couple of miles, and he looked at me.

"Doing OK, Pop?" I asked.

He nodded, a little of breath. "Yeah, Junior."

Only his eyes were on me. Probing, and more than a little hungry. We were circling in the wooded area of the park, and had only passed two joggers so far. The way my father looked at me excited me and gave me a half-stiff dick even mid stride. "You want it, Dad?" I asked quietly.

"Um, yeah," he said, nodding excitedly.

We slowed our gait to a trot and a walk, then I followed as he led us into the woods and behind a larger tree.

I stood and pulled down my shorts as his fingers traced along my bare thighs, his eyes fixed eagerly on my crotch, awaiting his next meal.

Before that morning, I knew Dad was an incredible cocksucker, and I knew we had that forbidden-thrill bond of his blowjobs. But that day I realized just how much Dad needed my cum, how addicted he was to blowing me.

The tree bark was a little scratchy, but I leaned back to steady myself as Dad took me into his mouth. No foreplay really, just nice steady mouth strokes up and down, working extra length down his gullet as he got into it.

I got into it, too, cradling his head gently and silently coaxing him to work my load out. I could see the silver flecks in his brown hair. Respectable doctor on his knees for a hot no-recip incest blowjob.

"Yes," I hissed. I knew we had to be quiet, but I missed talking to Dad while he sucked me. But this was naughty and hot, and I knew we were both worked up. Dad let out his own soft moan around my cock as my dick spurted its first salvo of precum. It had taken only a minute and wouldn't be much longer for the full cum, not given how horny I always am in the morning.

Dad worked me more rigorously, deep and with high suction. And doing something with his tongue. That did it. I curled my fingers in his hair and held tightly as I blasted hard. A good seven or eight spurts of his son's seed right into his craw and straight into his belly. Dad sucked it down gratefully.

He didn't belabor the aftershocks but gave my wet dick a gentle kiss as he pulled off, then looked up and winked at me. I could see he was erect when he stood up, but true to form he didn't make any move for reciprocation.

"Maybe that'll slow you down," he whispered with a laugh.

I pulled up my shorts and laughed back.

By the time we got back, Dad's hardon had gone down and I felt more ready for my day than ever. It was surprisingly matter of fact between us, even, as we did our cool-down stretches and talked about how the run was for Dad, what his goal was.

"Tomorrow, same time, buddy?" he asked, giving my shoulder a light punch as we walked into the kitchen to rehydrate.

I'd been in a conditioning phase for football but generally aimed for running every other day. But if Dad was gonna be my running buddy, I'd make it every day for sure.

***

We skipped some mornings, but I got used to the ritual. I was a horny jock, and it was just mindblowingly great to have a fatherly blowjob to start most days. Jake Gehring made a crack about me being in a good mood lately, but for some reason I wasn't sure I should share the development with his buddy. I'm not sure why.... Dad had sucked Jake a couple of times and given my friend's moods when he showed up at school, I'm sure Mr. Gehring was giving him the same treatment.

I wasn't being greedy, honest, the escalation just kind of happened. Dad had drained me good and well on our morning run, but around 7 o'clock that evening, he knocked on my door and stepped in, barechested and wearing just a pair of shorts. God, he was looking incredible with his lightly furred chest and muscle showing its pump from his workout in our basement home gym. And there was those clean-cut, professional looks. Hot doctor with a secret side.

"Your mother just left for her book club," he announced with a playful grin. "You up for a blow job?"

I liked this side of Dad. Matter of fact. Sexual. Needy.

"Hell yeah," I smiled. "If you're offering." I'd gotten off big that morning, Dad always gets me off big. But I was a teen, and I had a pretty high sex drive.

"I'm offering," he grinned back, stepping in and closing the door. "Though maybe we can take our time." He got up on the bed and ran his hands up my legs. Dad seemed to really like my legs, or maybe that was his way of foreplay to get me going.

"You want me to last longer?" I asked. Maybe not insecure but feeling like a young guy with a lot to learn about sex. "You get me so worked up, it's sometimes hard to last," I admitted.

Dad chuckled. "I like that, Junior," he said. "I love when you cum fast... but I was thinking it would be fun to edge you a little tonight.... I mean, we have the time to play."

I knew what edging was, but never had really done it. I was usually too impatient to cum. "Sounds hot, Dad."

And like that my father scooted up and cautiously met me for a kiss. We'd kissed before, but not much. I got the sense Dad only let himself do it when he was really horny. He was really horny now, I could tell by the feel of his boner in his shorts, pressing against mine.

I fucking loved it, though. I mean, I love kissing in general and making out with Dad was a mind fuck and a half that made my cock drip big time.

We both laughed as we broke the kiss. Like we'd gotten carried away.

"You OK with this, Junior?" Dad asked.

I ran my hands along his bare flank, feeling his warmth and firm muscle beneath the middle age softness. "Dad... you're fucking sucking my cock every day... of course I'm gonna be OK with this."

I worried I was too direct, but Dad just chuckled. "You're a horny kid all right," he said. Now his fingers ran underneath my T-shirt, feeling up my bare muscle. "And I'm VERY happy to take care of my hot young man." From anyone else that would have sounded slutty, but from Dad, it was just weirdly paternal and hot.

I gulped. "God, Dad."

"You'd say if we were doing this too much, right?" he looked in my eye, even as his fingers now ran beneath the elastic waistband of my mesh shorts.

I gulped and nodded. My cock lurched, feeling the aching closeness of his hand. It was like it had been 12 days since I'd last gotten off, not 12 hours. "Trust me, Dad... if anything it's the opposite."

That made him pause and look right into my eye. "You want it more, Junior."

My throat felt dry and I felt hot and sexual. "Fuck, Dad," I didn't normnally curse like that around my father, but something about the blowjobs changed the dynamic. "I don't mean it like what you're doing for me isn't enough... but yeah, I think about it a lot."

Dad peeled down my shorts, taking my briefs with them. My hardon was bared for him, throbbing and rigid. He took a second to openly admire it. Like he did each morning on our runs, but instead of a second to get a look, he had as much time as he wanted. We didn't need to rush this.

"We'll figure out a way, buddy," he said. "Put you on the twice a day plan," he winked. Then more softly he growled. "Damn, I love your cock so much son."

His fingers now traced my length slowly, openly, his eyes going from my dick and back up to meet my gaze. His blowjobs were incredible, but there was something powerful and intimate about this, too.

"Um, Dad," I said, a little nervous.

He looked back up at me. "Yeah, buddy?" In that you-can-ask-me-anything tone he'd use in our father-son chats.

Here goes. "I notice you rarely get off yourself," I said.

Dad seemed prepared for my comment, like he was surprised I hadn't asked him before. "I like to save it for your mother, Junior," he answered. "Makes me feel less guilty about what we're doing." Then fixing my gaze... "Too much information?"

I shook my head. "All good, Dad. Just wanna make sure.... you know... I don't wanna be an asshole or anything."

"We're good, son," Dad said, giving my bone a steadier stroke now. "Truth is, it's my way of edging, too.... can't get enough."

I sat up on my elbows, looking down. I wanted him to suck me so bad now. "Anytime you want it, Dad, just let me know. For real... I'm always horny."

Dad didn't reply but just moistened his lips. Then he leaned over and took my stick in between his surprisingly soft lips. At some point I'd have to ask him where he learned to suck dick so well. But that could wait. For now, I just enjoyed the feel of his warm wet mouth making love to my prick. Up and down, bobbing with fuller strokes till he was deep throating me.

"Dad!" I cried. I knew I'd cum any second.

Dad pulled off instantly and attacked my balls. It was the perfect stimulation, but one that fed my lust without making me boil over. He did this for a minute than took my whole cock on again.

Edging or not, we could only go a couple of times at this before my load had a mind of its own. As Dad was making his retreat from my dick, I was already firing against his tongue. My ejaculation caught him by surprise but he went back into full on milking mode to suck my balls dry.

"Sorry, Dad," I said as he finally came up from my lap.

Dad grinned. "Not a problem, son.... was it good?"

"The best," I answered. "I just know you wanted to go longer tonight."

Dad scooted up to lie beside me. "Well, your mother will be out till about 10...." he reached down and ran his fingers along my spit and cum wet half-hard dong. "You think maybe you got another in you?"

I smirked back at him. "I'd say so, Dad... definitely."

#drakestories

134 notes · View notes

hollowwhisperings · 10 months

Text

Jojen is Fine, Actually: "Weirwood Paste" is Weirwood Paste.

CW: humanitarian diets, body horror, general blasphemy, mention of grooming (in the context of creepy tree wizards).

Okay so my being a HUGE Jojen (& House Reed in general) fan gives me an Obvious Bias against the idea of Jojen Dying Offscreen.

My being a huge literary nerd & lore geek, however, informs my Metaphor Senses that Jojen is Fine*, Actually.

The "Weirwood Paste" is Weirwood Paste: made of weirwood seeds, locally sourced. Said "Local Weirwood Tree" being. Y'know. Brynden Rivers.

It's Brynden Paste.

(*Fine: chronically ill, majorly depressed, freezing cold, surrounded by creepy tree people, stuck in a zombie wasteland, if he ever goes home he Dies, repeatedly dreaming of his own death... but, at least, Not Dead nor Being Eaten by the Prince of his Dreams? He's "Fine".)

First and foremost: storytelling conventions, even in a series as "deliberately unconventional" as ASOIAF, tend to tell audiences that NO ONE is genuinely "dead" until you see a body. And personally check its pulse. And test for rigor mortis. And maybe stab them in a lethal place, jusr to be Sure. And then burn the body, scatter its ashes, send couriers off in different directions to hide what remains in Remote Places never to be known of by the other couriers. Maybe Silence the couriers if they come back.

Er, you get the picture.

Most subscribers to "Jojenpaste" are in it for the lolz or assume The Worst due to Jojen's non-presence in the latest Bran chapters (aaand Jojen's being Very Permanently Dead in That Dragon Show). It's also an "easy" assumption that Since GRRM Is GRRM, any & all opportunities for Humanitarianism will be fully utilized.

Except... the weirwood paste is ALREADY "made of people" just because it's Weirwood (specifically, weirwood seeds) and the series has consistently described weirwood trees as "[human]".

Weirwood have "bone white" bark; they have Faces carved into them; they "Watch" and "Listen" and "Witness": this is consistent across POV characters, even before Jojen casually brings up "oh they're what Greenseers Become" or any meetings with a Literal Tree Man.

Weirwoods are described in human terms, doing human things, and at least 1 major character has been directly equivicated with Weirwoods for Plot Purposes: Ghost the Direwolf (and wolves, of course, are consistently used to mean "someone of House Stark" and the Starklings especially).

Then there is The Creepy Tree Man in the room: Brynden Rivers, called "Three-Eyed Raven" by Bran and Jojen (for that was how their Dreams interpreted him) or "The Last Greenseer" by the Singers (...despite BRAN very pointedly Being There To Prove Otherwise).

Brynden is also, as mentioned, a Tree Now.

A Weirwood Tree.

Y'know. Like the ones whose seeds make the Paste Bran's been eating.

So, unless the Singers have been sneaking about in Others' Territory to collect seeds from a different weirwood tree... that Paste is made of BRYNDEN.

Bran being fed "Brynden Paste' while Brynden Indoctrinates Teaches Bran to be a Tree Wizard makes far more sense, logistically & thematically, than Jojen getting shanked offscreen to belatedly be revealed to be "part of Bran all along".

For one thing, Meera would gladly set the Cave & everyone in it on fire if anyone so much as looks at her baby brother suspiciously. For another, Brynden is Right There for the eating & is filled with all sorts of Prophecy Juice: he's a Blackwood, he's a Targaryen, he's a Royal Bastard, he was an Infamous Spymaster with "A thousand eyes and one", he's done weird sacrifice BS before, he's a Greenseer (Jojen "only" has Greensight), he's a Living God (as per Singer & First Men Lore), the Cave Cult is trying to turn Bran INTO him...

There is a lot more "logic" to Bran's Magic Lessons featuring his knowingly (subconsciously, at least) eating Brynden than his secretly eating his friend. Human sacrifice tends to require Knowledge of the cost being paid & being Willing to do it anyway: Bran might be too tripped up on Paste to consciously connect the "Weirwood Paste" he eats with "that Human Weirwood Tree i'm sitting next to" but the Singers explicitly tell Bran the Paste is made from Weirwood Seeds. Bran "knows".

Godeating (metaphoric & literal) is a trope that is most commonly found in JRPGs, nowadays, but it has Precedent throughout western mythology: the Titan Kronus ate each of his children as they were born, Zeus alone escaping, in an effort to Dodge Prophecy; Zeus inherited Said Prophecy and, being his Father's Son, ate his first wife. The details of the Titanomachy (the War against the Titans by their reasonably upset kids) are Lost but Zeus, at least, gained all his Wife's Wisdom (& her pregnancy too) after eating her: Athena may or may not have Taken It Back upon breaking out from her Eaten Mother & Dear Old Dad.

Consuming something in order to "become" what is eaten is Fairly Common, if not with that specific phrasing: vampires seldom explain their reproduction as "eat me to become me", whilst the adorable Nintendo character Kirby & his method of Powering Up via Playing Vacuum, is Rephrased out of Sheer Self-Preservation (no one, not even I, likes to admit that The Cute Pink Blob is an Eldritch Abomination). Many JRPGs & works in eastern media use similar themes of "monster eats monster" and "let's eat god" for the purposes of High Stakes Action. Japan & East Asia has a lot less "baggage" when it comes to utilizing themes from Abrahamic verse, meaning that western works using themes of [consuming the divine] and [apotheosis] use Vampire Methodology. Such is the case in the Dragon Age series & its Order of Grey Wardens (who are, From A Certain POV, dragon god vampires).

Within the ASOIAF series itself, Dany's eating a horse heart (raw) has Humanitarian Themes in service of Prophecy and [Divinity]: the horse heart to the Dothraki, a society of horselords, could be what weirwood seeds are to First Men (especially given Jojen's whole "btw, the trees are gods are former greenseers").

Brynden & the Cave's Singers (whom I dearly hope are some long-exiled Cult & not reflective of Singers as a whole) are not particularly subtle in their Intentions for Bran: he is to be their New "Last" Greenseer. Bran is to Become Brynden or Brynden is to Become Bran: either and possibly both are plausible, though how compliant with the Singers' goals Brynden may be has yet to be revealed.

(the Brynden of F&B and D&E strikes me as someone who would gladly bodysnatch some poor kid for his own Agenda: the Singers seem unlikely to support fire-breathing foreigners, not without a Contingency Plan; somewhat likely to want Bran for the purposes of installing a Tree Hivemind Police State; and maybe, possibly... "just" wanting a Second God for their Cult in Bran, who probably Smells Better).

SUMMARY

Weirwoods are Personified in almost every appearance. Weirwood Trees are considered Gods. Jojen (& some Singers) have stated that the Next Evolutionary Phase of a Greenseer is "Weirwood Tree". Brynden "the Last Greenseer" is part of a Weirwood Tree.

Brynden & the Singers are Turning Bran Into A Weirwood Tree.

Bran's current diet is Tree Paste. His magic teacher, Brynden, is Part-Tree. The Nearest Tree to make Paste from is Brynden. The Paste is made of Brynden.

(Let's NOT think too hard on which parts of Brynden: I've only gotten this far in this Meta by using "Hunanitarian" as a pun.)

Eating Gods to Become A God is an existing Trope. Brynden is a God, by Singer & First Men definitions. Bran is being Groomed to Become Brynden, a God. To Become Brynden, Bran must Eat Brynden.

TL;DR

The Weirwood Paste is Weirwood Paste and Brynden is the Weirwood: the Paste is not "Jojen", it's BRYNDEN.

Jojen is Not Paste: Jojen is Alive but Not Well & Very Depressed.

#bran stark meta #valyrianscrolls #jojen reed #brynden rivers #the last greenseer #asoiaf theories #cw cannibalism #methodology of apotheosis #suspiciously remote tree people cultists are suspicious #i think i forgot to add back my theory that meera is overdue for some arson and jaywalking #the title is the last greenseer not three-eyed crow #three-eyed crow is just his default avatar in the minds of telepathic children #jojen doesnt go around calling bran winged wolf and expecting others to know what that means in his dreams #jojen goes around calling bran his prince #because bran could become the literal man of his dreams #i imagine jojen was disappointed to discover his prophetic dreams were emphasis prophetic

117 notes · View notes