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moondirti · 11 months

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animalic (3)

← chapter two // series masterlist

pairing: miguel o'hara x f!reader rating: mature word count: 2.2k summary: he's got a plan that neither of you like warnings: enemies to lovers, predator/prey dynamics, biting, bondage, temporary paralysis, concussions, miguel is not nice, no use of y/n notes: this was supposed to be longer but the cut off at the original point was super awkward. this chapter is super exciting for all you fang lovers out there

You really can’t catch a break.

The city bustles with a verve rivalling your own, a kaleidoscope of luminescence dancing upon the glass facades of its skyscrapers. Their spires pierce the ink-dark cloak of night, and if you weren’t so busy running for your life, you’d stop to admire the way their aviation obstruction lights mimic the stars back home.

(Everything has a trade off, you suppose. You remember what it was like as light pollution gave away to reveal the cosmos above, the beauty of it lost upon your own grief.)

Now, it’s fear – clinging like a shadowy spectre to your heels. The pavement is unforgiving beneath you, each step sending a jolt of energy through your bones. Despite it, you can’t go any faster. Sidewalks crowd with the humdrum of everyday life – people filtering out from work and bodegas, dressed in a slightly odd fashion, their clothes a reminder of your unfamiliar landscape. Car horns blend into one another, providing an unsteady tempo to the race of your heart.

It’s disorienting, all of it. Times like these, you wish you’d been given the opportunity to hone your abilities. Stamina, flexibility. Web shooters in particular would have proved handy in avoiding the bustle of the ground.

Of course, he has that advantage on you too.

You can’t see Miguel, but you sense his proximity. It prods you, nipping at your flesh in a constant assault, intensifying goosebumps and raising hairs. Your spider sense usually doesn’t last this long, solely serving as a warning for immediate danger. Yet that’s just what he is, immediate. Dangerous. Predatory eyes track your every move, sourced from all directions. He’s everywhere; atop buildings, within alleys. Neon signs morph into twisted apparitions; serrated talons, red skulls.

How did he track you down so fast?

The day pass?

You wonder if he’d brought back-up – whether there are other spider-heroes here who trust in his noble cause. Your anxiety triples, and passerby’s begin to warp too. Their hurried footsteps now strike discordant notes, amplifying your isolation. You think you see some tense their wrists, or unbutton their coats, ready to reveal their tailored suits and ensure the capture you’ve managed to evade thus far.

It’s luck. It’s only ever been luck, and that fact changes depending on who you ask. You’ve never outsmarted him, never disabled him. You just so happen to have the power of being a pain in his ass.

Something itches at you, though. A nagging sense of foreboding. His presence in the past has spurred chagrin, annoyance, and – admittedly – arousal. But the genuine terror that lights your nerves now is new. Perhaps because you understand him, are far more familiar with his pride than most. The logical part of you can predict that he won’t let you off so easily, not after your stunt with the kiss. You won’t – can’t – get away this time, even if it damn well nearly kills him.

Any hope you had of a bargain dissipates, rolling back from shore and into the depths of an elusive sea. You jerk the rubber band off your wrist, throwing it into some undisclosed corner.

In a then desperate bid to throw him off, your path loses cohesion. Like a leaf seized by a tempest, you turn based on split-second instinct, weaving through the labyrinth of New York’s grid. Your body sways in frenzy, bolstered by pure adrenaline, which works to dim everything else. Your ribs haven’t fully healed yet – they’d taken a pretty bad beating upon your last fight with Miguel – but you can barely feel the ache as you focus purely on the task at hand.

Your determination surges, recklessness taking hold of your rationale. Veering abruptly, you just about collide with the racing line of cars that flow at a green light. In fact, you think you do. Your skin prickles, and a taxi runs straight through you, blearing a loud honk all the while. Some vehicles break off, drifting around your form at the last minute. In your peripheral, you can see the glowing red of your pursuers web, stretched across the gap between two apartment complexes.

Chest tightening, your breathing loses depth at the sight, shallowing to leave room for the distress that torrents up your system. You clamber up on the hoods of parked cars, using a mast arm pole to propel yourself forward. It’s a fruitless effort. You know it’s too late – have known it since he walked into that convenience, prowling in search of one thing.

(A lion only catches its prey a quarter of the time. But that twenty-five percent?)

Your ankle is the first victim to his hardwearing web, wrapped in the silk and pulled out from underneath you. The back of your head smacks into the concrete below, a high pitched ring reverberating through your skull upon impact. The collision sends a shock wave of pain throughout your being, and in that harrowing moment, everything stutters to a crawl. Spots speckle behind your clenched eyelids, metallic warmth flooding your mouth.

Well, fuck.

To add insult to injury, your atoms rip apart and splice into one another, a consequence of your abandoned day pass. The glitch aggravates the headache that begins to pound at you. You’d allowed yourself to forget how bad it could be.

The willpower that had just played a forefront in your mind steadily starts to trickle out, absorbed by your humiliation and the ground below.

“You really gonna give up that easily?”

Yes.

You make a point to never lie to yourself. In truth, you won’t ever get enough of Miguel’s cadence. Deep and resonant – it smoulders with a charred ruggedness. Commanding attention, rumbling like distant thunder, an unmistakable authority woven into each word. Yet, even amidst the rough contours, there lingers a softness, a subtle grace that soothes the edges of his threats.

(Sharp claws, sharp teeth, sharp cheekbones. Soft voice.)

More webs bind you, erupting from an unclear point to circle your legs, chest, and secure your arms behind your back. You’re diminished to little more than an aggravated caterpillar, ensnared in a spider’s web. And, just as his little game of bondage draws to a close, said spider stalks within view, splitting through the crowd that quickly forms around the commotion.

With his mask on, he stands as completely impenetrable. You, on the other hand, try to reduce your quivering the best you can, afraid of relaying how truly pathetic you feel.

“Maybe I’m biding my time.” You bite back, calling on a complete bluff. “I’m sure you know how good I am at that?” It’s a low blow. Even if you could control when and where to phase out, you wouldn’t get very far before he catches up to you again.

But Miguel doesn’t waver in his closing in – not until he towers over you, looking down at your incapacitated state. Space buckles under the gravity of his existence; you, too, can feel yourself sinking, drawn in closer by the credence that bubbles off him in flares. You wish you had a cover – your pair of makeshift goggles, a face mask, anything that could elevate you to a degree relative to his. But you’re bare, figuratively naked, and you’ve never hated him more.

He lingers, assessing you, weighing his options. The moment he turns to survey the mass of people who look on inquisitively, you wiggle upward into a sitting position, then throw your head forwards, aiming for his crotch. His wrist gets in the way, though, blocking your pitiful attack on his only defenceless area. Your forehead cracks against his dimensional travel watch, shattering its screen.

“Tu puta madre!” Miguel hisses, snapping back to survey the gadget while you begin to slink away. He seems to have an eye on you, however, because you’re tugged back just as soon as you make the effort.

Like a naughty cat. You shift uncomfortably at the thought.

“Are you gonna spend all night deciding what to do with me, then? I have plans, even if you don’t.”

“Plans. I have plans alright.” The low timbre of his threat slices you where it hurts.

With a calculated flex of his shoulders, he crouches down, gathering the webs around your arms. They serve as leverage when he hauls you upward, exercising his muscles – of which you’d suspected had been padding up to this point – with one swift motion. The world upends on itself, nausea enveloping your senses with its oppressive weight. It allows space for little else; not the uncertainty, not the trepidation. You divert all your efforts on keeping your scarce lunch down, accepting the possibility of a concussion by product of his less-than-refined manhandling.

The journey to wherever he takes you is not at all long enough for you to recover. Before you know it, he’s busting through the creaky door of an empty storelot, carelessly tossing you to the floor. Your vision doubles.

Yeah. Definitely a concussion.

Like you could afford one right now.

“You’ll stay, and you’ll listen.” He points an accusatory finger.

“Sure. Until I’ve had enough, that is.”

“And where would you go, exactly?”

“Nice try, O’hara. Like I’d tell you,” Snickering, you let your head roll to face the ceiling. The action sends you back to earlier, to the robbery you’ve been seeking to suppress. How careless you’d been, letting your fortune to date trick you into thinking that any collateral was safe too. You’d killed that woman. You. “Maybe I’ll fall right through the floor. That way, you’ll never have to worry about seeing me again.”

The notion makes him pause mid-pace, hands on his hips, tilting his head to look at you with what you imagine is the most earnest glare. The air bobs, suspended in static tension, a crackling constant that only unravels once he seems to make up his mind.

Marching forward, he drags you along with him to a nearby wall, upon which he then pushes you upward until you have to look down to meet his eyeline. Your bound legs kick forward, but the struggle hardly affects him.

“I didn’t want to resort to this.”

You assume he means treating you like a toddler does its shiny new toy, hurling you across this playpen of a city. “You really didn’t have to, then.”

He stays quiet, fists clenching tighter around you.

“I suppose we’re past the courtesy of letting the other recover from the last fight before starting a new one? My forearm is still fucked, thanks to you. Maybe if you’d given it some time, I would’ve proved more of a challenge today.” Your words, whilst never your most steadfast allies, betray you in lieu of this restlessness, tumbling forth with unruly incoherence.

Miguel's mask pulls back, the nanotech collapsing to just above his adams apple. Your mouth moves faster.

“Okay, I get it. The fate of the multiverse and all that. I’ll listen, whatever you want, but at least try and make the lecture original.”

His hand cups your jaw, tightening around your chin to firmly guide it upwards. Your throat stretches taut at the motion, its smooth expanse spread across the wall – an evening repast for a party of one. The imagery breaks down an all too sobering realisation into fragments small enough for you to register. His talons rest against your cheek, bordering perilously close to your waterline.

Traces of that patchouli aftershave hit you. His skin looks especially bronzed in the dark, highlighted at the edges from the phosphorescence outside. His curls droop where they’re plastered to a sweat slicked hairline.

You can’t help it. Your gaze flickers down to those plush lips.

Fuck. Fuck. It’d felt so good to kiss them.

Please let this just be a kiss.

“O-Or go with the… the usual, y’know. I don’t–”

Miguel lunges, sinking his fangs into the fleshy sinew of your neck.

Christ.

Your jaw hangs open, but no breaths filter in. Shock wedges itself at the site of his bite, implacable, steadfast as a barrier between logic and uninhibited emotion. Your reasoning plays no part in this, provides absolutely no valuable contribution to the series of reactions you undergo.

It’s physical, first. The cold slither of paralytic venom distends through your nerves, neurotoxins striking their functions, rendering them useless beyond the point of sensation. Which, you’d say, is the cruellest part. Miguel’s poison doesn’t stop you from feeling anything; not the puncture, nor the burn. You can truly feel it, trekking its graceful path to all muscles in your body, taking hold of the tissue, suppressing their vitality. Your back arches, your body doing its very best to fight what it cannot prevent. It cracks up your bone, down your spine. Your toes unfurl, fingers loosening to hang lamely at your side.

And, when you lose all executive authority over yourself, you’re pulled in to centre on his mouth again. His canines slowly retract, tongue taking their place. It’s warm – so fucking warm – and dextrous, covertly lathering the blood that beads down your nape.

Your last proper breath is wasted on a whine; a loud, keening, absolutely wanton whine. After it, you can do nothing but hold your flat inhales to cycle in as much oxygen as possible – diaphragm weak, your resolve weaker.

Miguel draws away, letting you slump to the floor, heavy and just as useless as a sack of flour. He wipes the excess carmine from his chin, kneeling to regard your glassy eyed stare.

“Fall through now, and you’re as good as dead.”

(You might as well already be.)

chapter four →

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satoruhour · 3 months

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STILL (ALWAYS) HERE

a/n: part two to this but not really? enjoy!

wc: 2.4k

warnings: spider-man!gojo, a little ooc gojo, mentions of blood and bruises, cleaning up wounds, some angst -> comfort, play on that one scene from tasm 2

you’re thinking that you’ve hit another dead end when you groan into your sheets from the headache that wraps around your head. it’s mild and dull but there’s still that throb at the back of your consciousness that you can’t exactly take your mind off of. at least, that was what you were telling yourself — normal headaches caused by the stress of university, and definitely not because of a trivial fight with your boyfriend.

the daunting calculus question stares back at you like it was mocking you, teasing you for getting heated over such a small thing when you knew he was only looking out for you with the best intentions in mind.

with a longing look to your abandoned convo with spider-man!gojo, you sink again into your pillow, lights suddenly looking too bright and the music in your ears, jarring. you haven’t seen him in school today, thinking him to be dramatic as always. but he didn’t need lectures and seminars at this point, either, knowing him to be one of the smartest people you know.

in the midst of quelling your headache and thinking of how to apologise, you don’t notice the way your vigilante boyfriend weaves his web around the trees just outside your window, crafting a sweet message of i miss you along the branches and leaves.

a tangle of webs, stuck like honeycomb to some abandoned shed, a tangle of webbing like his hip to yours. tangles of countless webs like his lips along your forehead when you fall asleep too early during study sessions and finally, his heart beating in time with yours.

one fell swoop of a rock from above makes you head tilt in utter confusion; in no world could a rock fall against your window in an arc like that come from anyone of this world, this dimension, yet you know no other person with wall-sticking and web-shooting abilities and it’s then when the complicated entanglement of letters come into view.

your heart clenches up just a little at the sight, a clear indication that it’s satoru from the similarity of his handwriting that’s on his own pre-calc homework. before you can call out, he shifts diagonally outside your window, mask removed and chest heaving at the anticipation of your reaction — both to the tension of your fight before and possibly another thing.

the darkness of the night hardly provides clarity, though, so when you don’t walk away, gojo feels the pull of your eyes on him, drawing him in and trapping him within your own web like prey. crawling along the side of your house, he gives you one more small pleading look: roughed up hair looking a little dirty and his body just aching so much.

“baby . .” he mumbles, blue eyes softening at the sight of you after not seeing you for just one day. it does things to him, “may i?”

but you’re not truly prepared for until your ceiling light exposes the reality of gojo’s situation, what with his cut-filled face and rips all over his suit. it’s dirty, like he was dragged around and made a fool of fighting god knows who, and he’s — oh my god — is all you mouth out, he’s bleeding from a fairly large wound in his side which he has held pressure with his mask.

“’toru!” you panic and quieten down, “oh— oh my god, fuck, fuck fuck, what do i do? satoru— you’re b-bleeding—” and you regret every single word you yelled at him just the day before, now rewarded (or cursed, rather) with his pristine white suit stained a deep, traumatising red. you’re shaking, rightfully so, and gojo is more calm than you, using his free and clean hand to rub circles into your sides.

“breathe, you gotta breathe, princess.”

“n-no— you breathe! you’re l-losing blood!’’ your throat closes in, your head fills with thoughts of his coffin being lowered. you start to sob, “satoru—”

“hey, hey, hey,” it’s both gentle and strong enough to catch your attention, brushing the stray strands from your face and you already lean into the long-awaited touch. his thumb wipes away the tears that already start falling, “’m still here, ’m still here. i’ve tried my best to cover the wound with extra shirts of mine, just stuffed into my suit.”

sniffling, you speak through hiccups, “why the hell do you have extra shirts in your fighting-villains backpack? w-why do you even bring a fighting-villains backpack?”

through the absurdity of it all: fucking spider-man bleeding out on your wooden floor, your tears mixing in with blood, the branches outside starting to snap and fall from the added tension of the webs, satoru laughs softly, fully cupping your face now and trying his best not to grimace at the increasing ache in his side.

“and you always laugh at the weirdest fucking times!” you chastise, still speaking through periodic hiccups and sniffles that you keep stuttering, not even able to smack him like you like to do because you know he hurts, “now wait here, you loser.”

a soft thank you is heard, able to breathe a little harsher now that you’ve gone to find the first aid, anxiety obvious in the pattering footsteps heard. without wasting any time, you grab the kit and let him peel off the suit in the bathroom, not even that much focused on his toned body but the amount of bruises and cuts that litter it.

a new wave of panic settles in your bones, a whimper sounding out when your feather-like touches span over his body.

“satoru . .”

“i’m so—”

“no,” you mumble, getting to work fast by taking out the gauze, bandages, whatever you could use. thank the heavens you at least knew some first aid, wincing whenever he hisses at the stinging alcohol. “let’s not talk about our fight now.”

he swallows, knuckles white from how tight he was gripping the sink, “f-first time you’re not asking me to apologise, heh—”

from behind, he can see you lift your eyes from the careful care you execute on his side, meeting your eyes in the mirror that gloss over again with tears and his heart sinks again.

“p— please don’t make jokes when i’m literally stitching you up, satoru,” you whisper, forehead bumping into his bicep, soft but quick breaths fanning over the skin there, “i don’t wanna talk, not while i almost lost you.”

“but it’s hardly any—”

“gojo satoru!” the shout of his full name shocks both of you, not even sure whether you were feeling angry at the fact that he always downplays his injuries, or sad at the fact that he can’t see that he deserves to be taken care of, too. it was always a guessing game with satoru.

“it’s not just anything, g-god! can you have some regard for yourself?” you don’t care that your words echo off the bathroom walls, its acoustics probably making your wails even more heartbreaking for your boyfriend. “look at yourself and tell me that it’s hardly anything! tell me, say it to my face!”

your nose is red, tear stains already making their home on your pretty face while your fingers squeeze the gauze instinctively, and he tells himself it’s all because of him. it’s all because he didn’t want to be a couple in public in fear that his enemies would target you, because he was afraid they’d use you as leverage, as a decoy, as a trade deal. but that has only made the yearning for you more difficult — pinkies barely brushing against each other, an inside joke swallowed into his throat.

satoru is silent, not sure what he could say that wouldn’t hurt you any further and he turns to lean against the sink counter, bloodied hands staining the marble and suit. and if he looked hard enough, he’s sure he can see the ache of your palpitating heart, bleeding down your chest and pooling at the floor from all the pain he’s caused you.

you dance across the bathroom floor, tiles both cold and warm under your feet as you make your move without any sound, afraid, afraid, like he would get pulled away the moment you touch him.

but he doesn’t go anywhere — just jerking a little at the sudden contact.

“satoru . .” hoarse, tired, it’s what he made your voice sound like just yesterday from shouting, and now, today, “i . .”

you cry quietly but never stop your ever loving hands, holding his face to look up from the shame, and you see how dull his cerulean ones look now, softened but dim, gentle but lacking vivacity. you think maybe it’s the tears hindering it. bit by bit, gojo’s tears fall and he apologises.

satoru apologises over and over, i’m sorry’s muttered into your hair, into your forehead, into your lips and both your hands are shaking like on a first date.

“i just can’t bear to lose you,” you mumble shakily, trembling fingers tracing the lines of his features, “and i hope you know how much you mean to me, and— and how much it hurts to see you so nonchalant about being beaten up like this . .”

you stifle a sob when he kisses your fingers as they travel over his lips, having crossed oceans over his eyes and mountains through his nose. his lips, his lips look just like the sanctuary of everything soft and good and righteous, that sliver of perfect time like on juliet’s balcony.

“i’m sorry, i am so sorry, darling. i—” gojo sighs, pain now turning numb but still trying his best not to move an inch, “i guess i just become so used to taking care of aunt may that, i . . am not used to being taken care of.”

you nod in understanding, “i’m sorry too, for lashing out, for dismissing your efforts to make me feel safe. you were only looking out for me.”

gojo’s eyes avert from yours again, looking down at the one thing that signified his place in society — never that much seen, not much recognised, but still revered as the city’s hero. it represents anything from something as simple as getting back an old lady’s handbag to fighting off a scientist-turned-reptilian. but it also represents the why.

why he fights so hard. a star student like gojo definitely wouldn’t pass off the praises when he saves a falling civilian, but it was much deeper than that when it came to it, wanting the city he grew up in to be safe and to seeing the grateful, relieved expressions of passers-by.

it was for you, when the last face he sees before he closes his eyes for the night is your pretty one and he’d be damned if that changed any time soon.

that night where satoru is all patched up and lying like a statue because he’s afraid he’d tear your nicely done stitches (you assured him it was mediocre at best), his hand finds your hand naturally again, playing with the strands aimlessly.

all thoughts of the news articles showing his cheeky spider mask expression, to the funky poses he pulls (from a camera so high up it would really only be one person who plants it there), phases out the cool, suave spider-man persona and centres the stupid, goofy, annoying gojo satoru.

and you smile softly to yourself knowing you’d be the only one to see gojo satoru like this.

“i should’ve told you why; it wasn’t fair of me to just stop acting like we’re head over heels— hey, why are you smiling?”

“no reason.” and your smile brightens.

“that’s not no reason,” he matches your grin, pulling on your cheek playfully before his hand goes to your nape like clockwork and tugs gently. like you were just a normal couple after a long day, without any indication of a gash along his side, but gojo satoru was far from normal in the grand scheme of things, “there’s always a reason.”

“is that the motto that the great spider-man lives by?” you inch closer to him, smiling from above in the dimness of the room so much so that it makes you look like royalty and him a mere commoner.

“uh . . no, pretty sure it’s ‘with great power comes great responsibility’,” gojo jests with sarcasm laced in his voice, roping you in and you, letting yourself get caught always as you lower yourself on his chest, but not before your lips meet his in a soft, quiet dance with you both being the only ones in the ballroom.

the rush of love that fills you overflows in the way your mouth moves against his, not wanting this sweet, sweet dream to end. especially if you come out empty-handed at the end of it all with spider-man’s, gojo’s blood on your hands, so you keep your eyes shut tight with a promise to yourself to welcome him with welcome arms the second, third, fourth, nth that he climbs through your window, bloodied and tired.

“i’m still here,” satoru whispers against your lips when he feels just how tense you are, easing out the lines of your face and holds you in that moment, held frozen in time like a scene in a snow globe, “i will be here for as long as we are alive,” he takes your hand and puts it up to his heart to remind you of its status, of how it speeds up a tad bit when you stroke his chest, “and i am alive whenever you are near.”

the quiet moment is shared with another soft kiss, features now relaxed when you smile against his lips and inspire the next few moments of endless laughter and jokes, falling into the same breath when sleep catches up.

in the bathroom lies his white-turned-red suit, left abandoned for the normalcy you both chase in your bedroom for at least a few hours until spider-man has to go back to being spider-man and you have calc questions to finish up on. but until then, with the alarm you set at 6am in secrecy before his classes, you’d wake up just to soak and hand wash the red out, returning the blue and white suit back to its glory.

when satoru wakes up the next morning, he finally knows why your warmth in bed was missing for a brief moment of time when he sees the clean folded up suit with his mask on top. you don’t miss with a sandwich either, and a cheeky note — all the best for your most dreaded class!!! if u can fight and come out alive i believe u can survive prof. masamichi lol.

and he laughs softly, sparing a glance to your sound, peaceful self and he finds a renewed sense of the reason why he decided to become spider-man.

spider-man— satoru seals his love with a kiss to your forehead and a messy mumble of i love you, long overdue from the night before.

“thank you for loving me.”

#jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk fluff #jjk gojo x you #jjk gojo satoru #jjk gojo x reader #gojo fluff #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojou fluff #gojou satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk drabbles #gojo satoru fluff

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mistywaves98 · 2 months

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Okay.... but like, consider merman/siren (Not the bird kind of siren.) Scara sinking our ship and eating our crew. But we're a woman disguised as a man because they used to not let women on ships. He only eats men so when he notices we're different he takes an interest in our body, mainly our boobs? I don't know- just a random thought I had while trying to concentrate during biology. Can be read as a drabble/brainrot or a request. Whichever you'd prefer to read it as<3

This is a very interesting concept ngl 😮 also this was not as great as I'd hoped it would come out..

✧･ﾟ:* ->Siren! Scaramouche x Fem! Reader

✧･ﾟ:* ->¡Warnings!: (sort of) NSFW, Just him being entranced by your chest, Nipple sucking, Making out!

✧･ﾟ:* ->Smut written by a minor!

You had just begun to feel like everything was going according to plan until your ship was attacked and your crew disappearing beneath the water, only to resurface as mangled corpses. The water around you was a horrible mix of blood and guts as you clung desperately to a floating piece of board that passed by.

You couldn't see anything beneath you, it was just water that went deeper for miles. Suddenly, a webbed hand shot up behind you and covered your mouth. A shape emerged alongside it and you felt a firm, wet chest against your back. Another arm wrapped around your upper torso as a raspy voice whispered into your ear,"Looks like I missed one.."

You thought this was the end, and didn't even bother to struggle since you knew it was futile. This creature was going to turn you into one of the dismembered bodies that were still somewhere nearby. However, you didn't feel yourself pulled underwater. The hand on your chest suddenly moved, slowly tracing the curve of your breasts through your clothes. You couldn't help but feel embarrassed as the creature you assumed to be male straight up groped you.

Suddenly, you felt sharp nails dig into your shoulders as the webbed hands spun you around, giving you a clear view of your 'attacker'. Slit pupils bore holes into your chest as he studied you with a furrowed expression. There were fins in place of his ears and his indigo hair seemed to flow around him despite being dripping wet. His eyes then darted up to your face, his glare piercing you.

"You...you're not a man." He said in a flat tone. You slowly nodded your head,"You're right, I'm a woman... Aren't you going to eat me?" "Eat you? Don't be an idiot, I don't eat female humans," he scoffed as if it were the most obvious thing in the world,"...especially not such lovely specimens such as yourself..." his voice suddenly dropped an octave and a dark expression came over his face. He leaned in a bit, his nose almost touching yours,"You know that you're trespassing by sailing here, right? That's why I killed your crew as a punishment for disturbing my peace. But I won't kill you, though. I already have an idea of what I'll do to you..." His eyes flickered downwards for a split moment and you blushed in embarrassment as you caught onto his meaning,"O-Oh... Well I suppose I am in the wrong... Punish me as you see fit."

Your top was tugged open, even torn in some places due to the enthusiasm of his claws. His scaly tail curled around your lower body beneath the water to hold you still as he lowered his head down till it was level with those soft mounds now covered in droplets of water. Moans keened from your throat as he hungrily began to suck on your left nipple, pointy teeth grazing the already erect bud, eliciting a soft yelp from you.

Your hands weaved their way into the damp hair on the back of his head, tugging him closer,"Mmm...you're so eager, aren't you my little captain?" He teased with a smirk as he released your nipple with a pop and pulled back a bit. Your hands came down to grasp his shoulders as his hands moved up to toy with your breasts, squeezing and kneading them between his webbed hands. The sensation was strange yet pleasurable at the same time and it left you breathless and flushed in the face.

The siren seemed to notice how you seemed to writhe even more when he occasionally gave your nipples a light pinch,"These are so sensitive... Yet they taste delicious. I want to taste more of you." With that, he dove in and captured your lips in an intense kiss. His hands brought you closer, one holding the back of your head to ensure you didn't pull away. You moaned as you felt his tongue snake its way into your warm mouth. It was so sleek and long, practically choking you with how deep it reached, yet it felt so amazing, you didn't want to pull back.

However, the kiss inevitably ended when you needed to breathe. He licked his lips as he watched you catch your breath, appreciating the sight of your exposed chest heaving with every inhale,"Your mouth tasted even better than I imagined. I bet there's other places that would feel absolutely divine on my tongue...but for now I'm satisfied. But don't think that means I won't be coming back for you." He suddenly scoops you up in his arms and makes his way to the beach nearest to the mainland.

As expected of a siren, you arrive there in a matter of minutes. Once you get close enough, you decide to part ways and swim the rest of the way, but before you go he says,"The name's Scaramouche by the way. Remember it for our future encounters." After that final goodbye, he disappears beneath the water and you vaguely make out a dark shape heading back out to deeper waters. As you sit on the beach, attempting to cover up your torso so it looks somewhat decent, you can't help but think that you'll be venturing to that part of the ocean a bit more often now, but on purpose this time.

#this was harder to write than i thought #how do fish fuck y'all #genshin smut #x reader smut #smut #genshin impact smut #genshin impact x reader smut #scaramouche smut #scaramouche x reader smut #scara smut #scara x reader smut #✧･ﾟ:* meena's memos! ✧･ﾟ:*

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angellayercake · 7 months

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There was a mouse in the house

Haarlep x Female Tav and Raphael x Female Tav (kind of) | NSFW

Warnings: cunniligus, p in v sex, voyeurism kind of? So I have not been able to play this game yet but this man has possessed me and something happened and yeah. I am going purely off a couple of youtube videos, vibes and horniness. It all started when Haarlep said that the host of they body they use feels everything they are doing which obviously means Raphael was well aware of what was going on in the boudoir.

He felt it the moment she set foot into the House of Hope. His fist tightened around the glass of wine he was holding and his artfully designed smile turned brittle at the edges as he felt the not unremarkable wards around his sanctuary open for an unauthorised portal. The potential client he was currently entertaining was none the wiser to his sudden inattention but he had hardly been paying attention to their prattling to begin with. His little mouse had decided to bite the hand that would have so willingly fed it, if she had only agreed to his generous offer. He hated to admit it even now but her continued refusal to work with him, even when he had already offered her so much had stung. He had allowed his ill advised affection for this particular client to cloud his typically impeccable judgement and as he should have foreseen, it was now being thrown back in his face.

There was only one thing she could possibly be after, that which he would have freely given, well not freely but for such a reasonable price. But his house was not so hospitable to intruders. There was time yet to finish his business here. It may not be the soul he wanted but it was a soul nonetheless. He refocuses his attention on the task at hand, carefully choosing his words as he weaves his web around the man sitting before him. It’s easy work so he has to try that little bit harder to temper the simmering rage that is growing inside him. But then it is done, business concluded and he can see to his little thieving mouse.

As he is preparing to travel he feels the first shiver run down his spine. Surely Haarlep was not entertaining when there was a little thief on the loose and yet there was no mistaking that feeling. He pauses in the doorway of his rented room, uncharacteristically affected by his Incubus’ antics but something tells him to wait. There were only a few plausible possibilities for who could be the target of his servants attentions but before he can squash it his traitorous mind informs him exactly who he wants it to be. As soon as her name flits across his mind his body begins to betray him.

His desperation for her to sign his contract, become one of his souls, well deep down he had been aware that this masked a much deeper, more primal want. How he wanted to own her body and mind as much as he craved ownership of her soul. Better not to dwell on those things, he had told himself, over and over. His needs were simple and really he could only rely on himself so why even risk letting anyone else close. But as he succumbs to the ghostly feeling of his body being touched by another he knows he is at the brink of his undoing.

With a snap of his fingers his clothes are gone and as he falls back onto the suddenly convenient bed in his rented rooms, he concentrates on the vague tingling caresses in a way he hasn’t indulged in such a long time, until they begin to feel almost tangible. It seems his incubus is taking his time with this one, feeling and tasting as much as he can. He feels soft warm skin against his tongue, the taste unfortunately alluding him but he can almost imagine it as he recalls the spicy earthy scent that lingers around her every time they meet. In his hand he feels a soft breast cupped in his palm, a pebbled nipple circled by the pad of his thumb. He yearns to pinch it between his fingers, pull and twist it until she was gasping her pleasure into his mouth but he is restricted by whatever it is Haarlep choses to do next and when he feels her other perfect nipple against his tongue he can’t suppress a groan.

The floodgates were opened as his phantom teeth nibbled at her, every thought he had buried about her ample bosom, always so perfectly displayed in her coquettishly revealing armour, situated just so to tease and tantalise. He had never allowed the thought to linger previously, as well as any potential attraction she may have had towards him but now, knowing that she had requested Haarlep to take his form was confirmation enough. He could picture her as easily as he could feel her, she would be completely nude, the incubus would have insisted, spread out against his crimson sheets, her skin glowing in a beautiful contrast. He would find every mark and blemish on her left by any other inferior being and cover them with his own, made by his claws or his teeth until there was no doubt who she belonged to. He only hoped that Haarlep mapped her body as carefully as he needed so he could explore them all at his leisure. The smooth expanses of skin passing over his hands and lips filled him with hope that that was exactly what was happening at his house.

He was more aroused then he could remember but he needed more even as he was hesitant to take things further himself. His cock even in his human shell stood erect between his legs, untouched though it was, and he had to fist his hands into the coarse sheets below him to avoid ending this encounter before it had truly begun. He felt his tongue trace what he only could guess was her belly button and his heart began to race at the destination the incubus was journeying towards. He settles back against the pillows as he imagined himself settling between her legs, his fingers spreading open her sweet cunt which would be already glistening with the slick evidence of her arousal just tempting him to taste. He feels her folds against the flat of his tongue, his own watering mouth simulating her wetness for him. He doesn’t need to but he finds himself simulating the movements he can feel, rolling his tongue against thin air as he would if he had her there to feast on himself.

His hands must leave her thighs because he is all of a sudden blindsided by the vice like heat around his fingers. How excited she must be for the incubus’ thick fingers to sink into her with so little resistance although her cunt doesn’t seem to want to relinquish them as she clenches tight around them as they slide out of her. So close, she must be so close to cuming for him and he writhes, desperate to hear the sounds she would make as he pushed her to the point of oblivion. How her laboured breathing might feel against his heated skin, how she might moan or gasp or scream his name in her ecstasy. The feel of her around his fingers and tongue is suddenly gone, ripping him gasping from his fantasy and he feels bereft, sucking in heaving breaths as he remembers where he is but he is not left adrift for long, his hands finding contact with her soft skin once again. The feel of her grounds him even as the real sensation belongs to his incubus. In his fevered arousal he struggles to catch up with the pair of them, heated hands grasping at his shoulders, frantic lips biting at his own, a strong leg hooking over his hip pulling him in as close as he can get.

It’s only when he feels the head of his cock lining up to her entrance that everything comes back into focus. He knows Haarlep and he knows exactly how he will tease her now he has her exactly where he wants her. He feels the drag of her folds over the head of his cock coating himself in her slick and stroking against her clit. He hopes she is begging now, begging to be filled by him. He would keep her waiting too, until there were tears falling down her cheeks and she could do nothing but whimper his name. He feels the tip breach her and then stop. He can’t bring himself to move as he waits with bated breath for her to be forced to take him fully and he waits and waits. He feels the spasms in his abdomen as everything is pulled taught and he spares a thought as he often does for his incubus’ impossible will power as he resists the temptation of her clenching hole.

He begins to move so slowly, easing his thick cock into her inch by inch. Every time he thrusts he pushes a little deeper. She opens up for him so beautifully and he yearns to feel how wet she is for himself. He can’t help thrusting in time with Haarlep as he imagines her there with him now, riding his needy cock and having to work her way down his length until she could take all of him. He is straining against his horribly empty bed when his cock is finally sheathed in her soft wet heat and even the ghost of the sensation is enough to finish him. His climax hits him like a wall, muscles clenching as the pleasure shudders through his body. He arches off the bed as he spills his seed across his own chest, too high on his pleasure to even begin to feel shame at finishing untouched.

He should move, he knows this but his limbs feel heavy and light simultaneously and he wishes to bask in this feeling for a moment longer. It is as he catches his breath he realises that the portal his little thief had used to breach his walls has closed. How curious. He acknowledged that he had lain here perhaps a little too long but surely not long enough for them to fight their way through the house and claim their stolen prize. Perhaps this little adventure of hers needn’t be the end of their game. He sits up preparing to rebuild his composure and return to assess the damage her and her party of misfits had left in their wake but he can’t keep the smile from his face. ‘Oh little mouse, you know not what you have started.’

#my writing #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #raphael bg3 #raphael x reader #raphael x tav #haarlep x tav

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konigenblobbity · 10 months

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Metallic Beauties

Hobie Brown x Spidey!F!Reader

18+ MINORS DNI

Warnings: Fluff, NSFW, nipple piercings, almost skinny dipping, Hobie being an absolute slut for your nipple piercings, tit biting and sucking, nickname

Summary: After a successful mission together, Hobie wants to show you a ‘new spot’ he found. Which turns out to be a rooftop hotel penthouse, with its own private pool. Hobie convinces you to take a relaxed moonlight swim, as both of you begin to strip you remember that you recently got a new accessory. Hobie not having yet seen your new nipple piercings… you can’t wait to see how he reacts.

A/n: Read a work by @murdrdocs about Hobie with a reader with nipple piercings and I was INSPIRED! Definitely check it out —> link. Also! Hobie has my whole heart… love this anti-establishment British heartthrob.

You couldn’t help but laugh as you watched Hobie do a series of dramatic poses between each swing on his web. You had just completed a day long mission with the punk, with expert skill and not a single slip up. Even made sure to keep the anomaly contained to an unexpectedly effective degree. You couldn’t help but share Hobie’s excitement.

Hobie was your closest friend on the team, having joined a few months ago, you were seen as a new recruit, not yet trusted… he didn’t see you like that. Due to Hobie’s lack of interest - more like borderline hatred - for labels, you two weren’t defined… merely thought of yourselves to be ‘close’.

Close being, telling each other anything and everything, having each others backs no matter what, you even getting involved in some of his demonstrations he went to, tending to each other - whether for injuries or… other needs. The two of you were inseparable, but undefined. Even though many of the other spider-people just wished you two would just accept you’re dating.

“Oi love, I wanna show you a lil somthin’, a new spot I’ve been hangin at” his words peaked your interest, and you just nod. At that he begins to swing off in another direction, ducking and weaving through a series of buildings. Trying your best to keep up, your curiosity only grows with each swing.

When he finally stops, he’s standing on the rooftop of a hotel. You land next to him and look around, seeing a large pool, a series of lounge chairs, and even a small seating area with a large fire pit. This ‘new spot’ was a hotel rooftop penthouse suite.

“Well… who did you bribe to be allowed here?” Your tone was playful as he begins to walk towards the pool, you following close behind. He chuckles lowly, and looks over at you, hands on his hips. “What can I say… I’ve got connections.” he peels off his mask and tosses it onto the lounge chair behind him.

“It’s not booked” he adds hoping to calm your slight unease. He didn’t need to use his spidey-senses to know that. Hobie had always been an amazing observer, picking up on the way you slightly shift your weight, how your pick at the fabric of your suit, how your eyes glance away every few seconds. It was easy to notice those things… because he often couldn’t help but observe you.

You take off your mask as well, throwing it on the lounge chair behind you, positioned right next to his. As you watch him strip out of his boots, then his vest and shirt your eyes widen. He notices your shocked expression and chuckles with an amused grin. “What? We just did a mission which’l keep Miguel off our asses for months. I’m just celebratin’, love”

You roll your eyes at his words but can’t help but agree. This mission was a pain and the pool looked really enticing. He continued to strip, peeling his shirt off, and unzipping the top half of his suit. You keep your gaze on him, intending to give him an incredulous look but unable to hide the slight awe in your eyes. You couldn’t help it, although you’d never admit it, Hobie looked good in anything… or even in nothing.

He smirks and jokingly remarks “Close your mouth… it ain’t like you haven’ seen me naked before” and he’s right, you’ve gone skinny dipping before, in fact you’ve both gotten naked on multiple occasion. Strip poker, just happenstance when you’re both high as kites, and times when you both agree the heat in your reality is unbearable.

You scoff “Well Hobie… when you’re right you’re right” before removing your shoes, and any clothes you wore over your suit. Then reaching to your back and unzipping your spider suit. As you pull it down you pause, remembering that you don’t wear a bra underneath the suit, feeling your bare back where the strap would be.

Hobie was just in his boxers now, and after putting his things on his lounge chair, he immediately dives into the water, quite elegantly if you say so yourself. You watched his figure under the water until his head broke through the surface. A hand coming up and rubbing his face.

He still had his jewelry on and the now wet metal glistened under the pool lights. They were a soft blue and lined the pool wall, with some additional lights outside of it. You could only stare as his figure was illuminated in a soft blue, reflecting of his face piercings beautifully. You were only able to break away your gaze when he spoke.

“The waters peak love, hop in before I come up there and throw you in” the lopsided grin on his face made it clear he wasn’t joking. You chuckle but then gulp, feeling suddenly vulnerable. Although he’s seen you naked before, you hadn’t yet told him that recently you got a new little piercing. Well… two new piercings.

They were fully healed now but you only got them a week or so ago. Not having yet found the correct way to tell or show him. You knew he wouldn’t judge, but you weren’t sure whether he’d like them. As much as you tried to convince him otherwise, with snide remarks and playful insults, you were nervous what he thought and truly cared about his opinion.

You turn away from him, showing him your back as you finish unzipping the suit and slip it off. When you turn he groans, his voice low “you bloody tease…” and you just chuckle before retorting back. “You bloody perv…”. You finished getting undressed, standing there only in your panties and jewelry, most of which you stole from him,

You placed your things on the lounge chair next to his, which already had your mask on it. As you were folding your suit and clothes, not wanting them to get wrinkled, there was a soft splash sound behind you. You place your mask on top of the pile of clothes and then turn back to the pool.

“If any of my things get soaked I sw-“ Once you turn back around towards the pool, he was gone. Your smile drops and your brows furrow. You walk to the edge of the pool looking down into it, thinking he was under the water. Your spoke cautiously, searching for him “Hobie? Where’d you go?” No response.

You go to turn around and gasp, suddenly face to face with Hobie. “Took too long. In ya go.” Before you can even react, Hobie pushes you into the pool. You let out a soft yelp and before landing in the pool you can see the smirk on his face.

There’s a loud splash as you fall into the pool, slowly sinking to the bottom, you open your eyes under the water and, in blurry vision, see Hobie dive into the water after you. Once again his dive is graceful, managing to perfectly align his body with yours, parallel to one another.

You watch through blurry vision as he glides up the length of your body, feeling his hands slide up your thighs, hips, and stop at your waist. His gaze focused on your face, until, from his peripheral vision, he catches a glint of light.

Even in his blurry vision he can see it’s coming from your chest. He tilts his head downwards, his eyes moving away from your face. They widened as he spots the two small silver beads in each of your nipples. You don’t have to see clearly to know he’s looking at your tits, your face beginning to feel flush at how entranced he appears to be.

You use his haze to swim away from him, his hands sliding off your waist. You take in a breathe as you resurface out of the water, shaking your head to shake off some of the water on your face. You open your eyes and look forward, watching as Hobie’s head pokes up after yours.

You were both standing in the shallower end of the pool, feet touching the ground, only a mere meter from one another. You felt your heartbeat quicken as he stands tall in front of you, feeling intimidated by his figure looming over you. His eyes were focused back on your piercings, now being able to see them clearly.

“Well well well… when’d you get those done?” You shrug, deciding to play coy. You tilt your head and furrow your brows. “I’m not sure what you’re getting at… what are you referring to?” Unable to hide the sly smirk growing on your face.

You watch as he pokes his cheek with his tongue, his eyes looking back up into yours. His gaze pinning you in place, unable to move from where you stand. He grins and let’s out an amused chuckle. “Tsk. Always so coy” His voice was low, but his accent was thick… he knew how you got whenever he spoke like that.

You watch as he moves towards you, a smirk still plastered on his face and his eyes narrowed. “I’m referring to…” you shudder slightly as his hands slide up your waist again, but then go to grope your breasts, his thumbs softly rubbing on each piercing. “These metallic beauties” his touch has you humming softly and looking into his eyes, his gaze lustful… you can only imagine you look the same.

He leans forward, his face now settling into the crook of your neck as he mumbles against your skin. His breath sending a shiver down your spine. “Hm. Isn’t that interestin’. They feel even better than they look…” His hands move back to your waist and, as if you weight nothing, he lifts you partially out of the water.

Recognizing his action, you know what he wants, you can only give in… wrapping your legs around his waist, allowing his hands to move to your thighs to hold you up. His face now directly in front of your breasts. “I wonder how they taste…” those words made your breath catch in your throat, back arching as his lips latch onto one of your piercings.

Your eyes fluttered shut as his tongue began toying with your piercing. His hands grasp tightly at the flesh of each of your thighs, “God… they taste even better” his soft groan sending vibrations through your entire body. His mouth was doing wonders, being so gentle with your bud, but effortlessly driving you mad with each flick of his sharp tongue.

The way he paused before beginning to lay searing hot licks over the entirety of your nipple with the pad of his tongue. It had you taking in shaky breaths. As his lips wrapped around your bud again. you could feel his coy smirk, clearly loving the reactions he was getting out of you. He took the piercing in between his teeth and that one action had you dizzy.

Loving the mix of pain and pleasure he was giving you. He began to move away, sucking at the piercing, his lips pulling away with a soft pop. You let out a shaky moan, barely audible but he heard it. And he wanted to hear more… loving the way he felt your body lightly tremble in his arms. The mere thought that he had this much power over you… it had him hazy and his only focus right now was you.

“You’ve been naughty haven’t you? Hiding these from me…” he moves his lips to your other breast, not wanting to leave it left out. He leans in, sticking out his tongue and softly circling the piercing, dragging a whine out of you. “Should’ve asked me to pierce them for you. Would’ve made them look perfect” he then closes his lips around the second piercing. Teasing it the same as he did the last.

You look down at him, his eyes immediately locking with yours. Your own glossed over with pleasure, his half-lidded, focusing his energy on perfectly teasing your bud. “A-are they not perfect?” You question. Not intending to be playful, but rather serious; genuinely asking him. Wanting to know what he thought, and getting tense at the idea that he didn’t think they were perfect.

“Aw… of course they are love. In fact, they look absolutely fucking ravishing on you” he begins to softly kiss your piercing, before going to kiss around it as well. Leaving open mouth kisses, and soft purple bruises in the process. “I just can’t help but be envious… knowing someone else got the pleasure of piercing them” he then bites at the skin of your breast.

You gasp lightly, your eyes fluttering closed again. Biting your lip as he takes the piercing back in his mouth, speaking against your flesh. “Watching you strip, then being able to praise you for stayin’ nice and still, watchin’ your face contort from pain… fuck darling what I would give to’ve been there” each of his words went straight to your head, making you more dizzy by the second.

“W-well… actually. I did them myself” you smirk and look down at him again. He pulls away from your chest, his mouth falling agape, his gaze locking on yours. A grin slowly gracing his lips. “Well fuck…” he moves a hand up to the back of your head, pulling your head down, crashing his lips against yours.

“My brave little bird aren’t you?” He mumbles against your lips, there’s something about the way he says it that has you whimpering against his lips. The way he calls you ‘his’… even if he didn’t like labels of what your relationship was, your heart sings at such praise from him. You softly nod your head, moaning against his plush lips and then feeling him smirk against yours.

His hand grasped your hair, pulling your lips from his for a moment, looking deep into your eyes, his own filled with desire. But you saw… something new. An aura of possessiveness, of unfiltered want… but what caught your eye the most was the smallest glint of pure affection and admiration.

“That’s you isn’t it hm? My bird… my best bird. All mine.”

#konigenblobbity #hobie brown x reader #hobie brown #atsv x you #astv fic #spider man: across the spider verse #hobie atsv #hobie across the spiderverse #fanfiction #across the spiderverse #across the spiderverse fanfic #hobie x you #atsv hobie #hobie spiderverse

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sky-casino · 4 months

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spiderman!rin: weaving through leads to you

hello~ i'm back with my third bllk x spiderman au piece!

to anon, thank you for the request and for waiting patiently! i tried a different storytelling style here, i hope that's okay with you 😊

fanart credit: @shirkori on twitter

rin who has been childhood friends with you. childhood "sweethearts", to be more precise. what's with all your friends, classmates, his teammates, and even some teachers relentlessly teasing the two of you about how good you two look together and how compatible you are with each other.

rin who finally confessed his feelings nonchalantly, and you saying nothing but simply smiling and holding his hand as your response.

rin who loves you, his brother, and soccer.

rin who got bit by a red-and-blue spider during one of his solo practice sessions on the school's soccer field.

rin who didn't mind it until he had to, given all the side effects he rapidly went through that night.

spiderman!rin who kept pacing back and forth in his mind on whether he should tell you about his newfound superpowers or not.

spiderman!rin who chose the former, texting you to meet him on the rooftop one afternoon, once class and club activities are done.

spiderman!rin who came clean to you, asking you what he should do with his new abilities because that's what he always does, seek you for advice and direction. he knew he's basically a lost puppy without you. you who were astounded and yet excited, suggesting to him to use his abilities responsibly for the greater good.

spiderman!rin who always made sure you were there whenever he practiced going up on walls, shooting webs, and using them to maneuver from one place to another.

spiderman!rin who felt warm and giddy all over his chest whenever you praised him and told him how proud you are of him.

spiderman!rin who sends you selfies and landscape views of the city while he's on his daily patrol.

spiderman!rin who taps on your window in the middle of the night so he can snuggle with you for a while as a way to rest and recharge.

spiderman!rin who sweeps you off your feet and swings with you to the building with the best view of the city and the sunset.

spiderman!rin who had to stop being spiderman and had to let go of his superhero suit after vanquishing the enemy who discovered his identity, hence discovering who you are as well, and ultimately threatened your life by abducting you.

rin who is just now simply itoshi rin.

the itoshi rin who chose to go back to his ordinary life.

the itoshi rin who chose you, your safety, and soccer.

the itoshi rin who stubbornly told you that he would always choose you over other people, vehemently stating that he'll never go back to being spiderman because it was the reason your life was put in danger at the first place.

the itoshi rin who has had his fun as your vigilante boyfriend, and just now wants to be your soccer-player boyfriend.

you, who have known rin for many years and is therefore aware of how stubborn he is. you know that once he makes up his mind, there's no changing it. and so you accepted his decision.

the transition back to his ordinary life was mostly smooth, and his alter-ego and superhero days will be the best-kept secret between the two of you.

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yggdrasilhypno · 4 months

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So let’s chat about how our words can slowly and surely corrupt others, shall we? Now, to elaborate i mean how our words can subconsciously affect another’s mind, perhaps putting in small suggestions here and there of our own accord. It’s a bit of a tricky thing to pull off, but once it’s accomplished, they’ll have your scripture buried deep within their own subconscious.

You see, it’s all about word choice and timing with this, because you can’t simply tell someone to feel nice and dizzy around you bluntly to them, right? While direct words and actions affect those around you, it’s the indirect words weaving their ways deep that truly make an impact on someone. Namely, this has to do with what words you decide to slip in. The mind can be easily alerted to presences alien to its own, words that may ring any bells of caution deep within, it can create a feeling of unfocused panic or wakefulness when you truly want to deepen their dizzy minds.

The remedy to this is all about synonyms and placement within your own vocabulary. For example, if i told you that it’s common to feel warm and dizzy while I’m speaking to you, it can set off certain reactions in the brain, not quite creating the result you may want. Instead, it’s all about using conversation and trust to carefully communicate your point across. The balance between hiding your points in identifiable chunks to the subconscious while safekeeping them from the detection of the conscious mind is a tricky one to get across, but after time it becomes second nature.

Of course vocabulary can always help, so those warm and dizzy feelings can be described with other terms, like a midsummer’s night under a blanket or the ditzy dreamy spins you feel when you’re deeply enamored by someone. Making your own terms and comparisons as well can help, so don’t afraid to be creative with how you weave webs of words around weak minds.

One of my favorite talking points when it comes to this subject too is all about conversational hypnosis and how it ties into all of this, and to put it simply, they’re incredibly similar in the process. If you don’t know, conversational is a form of hypnotic induction where the language of trance is less direct and more personal, as if it’s just one person talking to another like it’s another normal evening. It’s quite magical realizing just how powerful a normal conversation can be with another, establishing links of trust and connection as you toy around with your words, finding the smallest of windows for you to slip within and hide your easiest of suggestions for them to follow.

The best part about all of this however is seeing the results for yourself. Finding your willing victim stumbling over their words as they try and grasp why they’re so sleepy around you, why they feel so safe around you and yet so disoriented. It’s truly special watching their minds try and make sense of the situation as you calm them down and assure them it’s all normal as they nod their heads without even realizing. Perhaps they’ve even begun to realize how warm the room has gotten and how they can’t seem to grasp a grip on reality or fantasy as the two seem to mix together, as if caught under a spell. The whole process is quite magical, after all. It warms my heart knowing their struggles will turn into smiles soon enough when they realize that it’s okay to simply let go and enjoy the time they spend with their other. After all, what’s a little time feeling so warm and dizzy after a long day?

But, that’s enough of my rambles, if you’ve found yourself feeling any sensation of warmth or dizziness, you’re allowed to ride that feeling out as long as you want. Until then, cheers!

#brainwashing #hypnok1nk #hypnodomme #hypnosis #hypnosub

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nebulablakemurphy · 1 year

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The Queen’s Hand

(Part I: House Strong)

Summary: Y/N Targaryen is Princess of the seven realms. First born daughter of, Viserys I and Aemma Targaryen. Heir to the iron throne, forced to make impossible decisions to ensure peace amongst the land and the safety of those she holds most dear.

Prologue

“Where’s Rhaenyra?” Y/N asks, promptly out of breath, from the speed of her footsteps. The meeting had run over, pressing matters that could not wait. Up until this moment Y/N has never missed one of her sister’s labors. First in wait to hold the babe after Rhaenyra. By the looks of the empty room, Y/N may finally be too late.

“The Queen requested to see the baby, your grace. Princess Rhaenyra took him herself.”

“I have a nephew then?” A third.

“Indeed, Princess.” The lady in waiting bows her head with a tiny smile.

Y/N leaves without another word, there’s nothing in the realms Alicent could want or need at such a time, other than to bother.

Rhaenyra can hold her own, even after her labors. Y/N seeks out her husband instead.

“Ser Harwin!” Y/N calls from the courtyard balcony. Watching as her husband’s face softens at the sound of her voice.

“Princess,” he bows his head.

Y/N grins, “come.”

They’ve been here before. Twice before, to be exact, over the past decade. It was no real secret that Rhaenyra’s sons do no resemble their father. Their features more Strong than Velaryon. When it first erupted as a hushed whisper amongst the castle, Y/N was betrothed to Harwin Strong and married within two weeks.

A union born of duty. But through the years the two developed a deep love for each other. While Harwin will always adore Rhaenyra, sworn to protect her with the same devotion as his bride, and their children by proxy…he is not in love with her. Their time had passed.

Y/N and Harwin share three children of their own. Two daughters, Aemmia and Geniysa, followed by a single son Viserus.

This new child, Rhaenyra’s third, will be the first to share blood with Laenor. He would surely be the show of good faith their kingdom needs. Whatever agreement Rhaenyra had struck up with Laenor when they were betrothed still stands. They never begrudged each other happiness.

“Is it the babe?” Harwin asks, pressing a kiss to his wife’s temple.

Y/N nods, “Queen Alicent requested an audience the moment he was born.”

“Here I thought scaling the stairs immediately after birth was a torture reserved only for you.” Harwin quips, “no matter, her majesty will be pleased this time.”

“One would hope so.” Y/N looks down at her hands, “then again she is rarely pleased.”

Harwin taps her chin with the side of his index finger. “Stand tall, my love.”

“I have yet to meet my nephew. I hoped you might accompany me.” The princess changes the subject.

Her knight holds out his arm, “it would be an honor.”

“Do you ever tire of this?” Y/N wonders.

“It matters not.” It is his duty.

———————————🌱————————————

“Look, aunt Y/N!” Lucerys calls, reentering his family’s sitting chamber with a steaming black cauldron in his grasp.

“Oh, what’ve we here?” Y/N leans over the arm rest of the settee.

“It’s a dragon egg for the baby.” Jacaerys informs her. “Uncle took us down to the pit.”

“That was very nice of him.” Y/N smiles.

“It’s not every day a dragon gives birth to a clutch of eggs. Their brother deserves the fairest one.” Harwin insists.

“That he does.” Y/N agrees, “thank you for taking them. I’m sure their parents will appreciate such a grand gesture for the new prince.”

She is not upset, not in the least. Rather it warms her heart to think that despite their…untraditional family structures, perhaps they needn’t weave such a tangled web.

Just then the door opens. Rhaenyra and Laenor, with the baby in tow.

“Let me see him.” Y/N demands, rushing her sister. Still shimmering with a sheen of sweat.

“I thought you dead.” Laenor jests. “This is the longest I’ve been allowed to hold my own child before handing him off to you.”

‘Twas a laugh really. Laenor loves Y/N as his own sister, always has. But it was unusual for the eldest princess to miss such a moment with her sister.

“I do apologize for making you worry.” Y/N scoops the infant up in her arms. “There was a matter in the court I simply could not skirt.”

Harwin stands with a look of ever growing love as he watches her bounce and sway. Perhaps he might ask his wife for another babe. Just one more. “Does he have a name?”

“Joffrey,” Laenor tells him.

“What a fine name.” Y/N kisses her nephew’s tiny fist as it raises form the blanket.

“I hate to steal you away, but the Queen requests you next.”

“Me?” Y/N scoffs.

Rhaenyra clears her throat. “I’m sure we can manage in your absence for a little while.”

Y/N returns the baby to his father. “Perhaps Harwin will bring the children in to meet their cousin.”

“Later, Princess.” Laenor says, “they’re gathered down at the dragon pit. Ser Harwin might bring his nephews back there instead.

“I’m going with you,” Harwin protests.

“She did not ask for you.” Y/N points out, running a hand over the front of her dress.

“Mind yourself on the stairs.” Rhaenyra calls after her sister. “I bled on them.”

———————————🌱————————————

When Y/N doesn’t find the Queen in her rooms, she enters her father’s instead. Maybe she’d gotten lucky.

Viserys is seated at his model of old Valyria, grateful to have his eldest daughter join him.

“I’ve always been fond of this section.” It spoke to something in her. She would tend it almost daily in those first years after her mother’s death. Before it became someone else’s, a place where she felt unwelcome.

“Even as a girl,” the king smiles at his daughter. “Although you never could say why. Are you still unsure?”

“Y/N, a word.” Alicent’s voice cuts through the calm air.

“I thought you’d forgotten me, your grace.” Y/N remarks.

“An impossible task.” The Queen murmurs, “walk with me?”

“Looks like the rooftops will have to wait for their dusting.” Y/N nods to her father, as she rises from the table. Giving his shoulder a squeeze when she passes. The palm of his hand resting against the back of her own for just a moment.

“I will make sure they hold their post.” Viserys adores his daughters. But when it comes to matters between them and his wife, he finds it best not to insert himself.

“Beautiful day, isn’t it?” Alicent begins, on their walk about her rooms.

“Lovely.” Y/N agrees, unsure where this is headed.

“I’ve seen the baby.”

“I heard.”

“He is different than his brothers.”

“How so?” Y/N asks, her pace keeping time with the Queen.

The brunette turns to look Y/N directly in the eyes. “Is there no line you will not cross to protect her? What of honor? Decency? If you do not speak up, her son will sit the throne instead of your own. Does that not bother you?”

“Is it my son you’re worried about?” Y/N blinks, “house Strong is noble and well beloved, my son will have a seat there. That is more than enough.”

“You know that isn’t what I meant.”

“Then speak it plainly, your grace. I want nothing more than to ease your mind.”

“Jacaerys and Lucerys,” Alicent tries a second time. “The new babe has hair white as snow. They do not. They bear a closer resemblance to your own children with Ser Harwin.”

Y/N draws in a breath, “my father had a black mare once.”

If looks could kill the princess would be dead and gone. Alicent’s mouth slightly ajar.

“She fled the fence, when he found her again, it was with a neighboring stallion. Silver as the moon. The foal was born chestnut. Nature is amazing that way.”

“We may speak of chestnut foals forever, turning a blind eye to what is so clearly in front of you will not make it go away.”

Y/N lowers her voice. “I do not know why you insist on pressing this matter, my Queen. The implications of what you’ve said threaten the very lives of those I hold most dear. I beg you, leave it rest. I have told you all I know.”

“Do you know what kept me?” Alicent lifts her chin indignantly.

“You are surely busy.”

“Ser Harwin attempted to beat his fellow knight, Ser Criston, to a pulp.”

Y/N’s father hadn’t said a word.

“Awful,” Y/N lowers her gaze. “But my husband is not a violent man, he would do no such thing without reason. So I must ask, what happened?”

“The princes were training with Ser Criston. Sparring in the court yard. It seems your husband did not appreciate the match up made by the other knight.”

“What was the pairing?”

Alicent gawks at her.

“The match up,” Y/N insists she answer. “Who was it.”

“Prince Aegon and Prince Jacaerys.”

“Seems an odd choice. Jace is better suited to spar my Viserus than your eldest son, wouldn’t you say? Or even Aemond.”

“I’m sure Ser Criston had his reasons.”

“Oh, I do not doubt that, your grace.” Y/N spits back. “Even so, my husband is not likely to attack over a bit of training. So may I ask what else happened?” Or rather, what really happened.

“From what I understand…Ser Criston made a remark about your husband’s devotion to Prince Jacaerys. Stating it was better suited to a son than a nephew.”

Y/N cocks her head to the side. “Why wouldn’t Ser Harwin be concerned when his kin is treated unfairly? Rhaenyra is my sister, we are a family. If my husband simply stood idle while one of the children was treated unfairly, it would be me beating him. What you have spoken today is treacherous, but it stays between us. It would upset my father so, if he were to catch wind.”

Viserys had forbade Alicent to speak of it on more than one occasion.

“If there’s nothing more, I would like to get back to my father.”

Alicent’s gaze cuts like a dagger. “That is all.”

———————————🌱————————————

That night, after Y/N has put her children to bed, she collapses onto the mattress fully clothed. The day has drained her, Alicent especially.

The door opens and the familiar clanking of armor fills the room. “Long day?”

Y/N lulls her head to the side. “Could’ve been worse.”

“Was the Queen very hard on you?”

“Same as before, nothing’s changed.”

“Might I help you out of your gown? I can’t imagine it’s comfortable to sleep in.”

“You only wish to have your way with me, Ser Harwin.” Y/N sighs, feigning exasperation.

“Perhaps I only wish you comfortable, Princess.” Harwin smiles, lying down the last of his gear.

“Very well.” Y/N sits up with a grunt. Forcing herself to stand, facing the bed post. Pulling her hair over one shoulder to allow her husband access to the closure of her dress.

“I would like to apologize, my love.” The knight says, beginning to unlace the back.

“You’ve nothing to apologize for.”

“My affairs have brought shame upon your name…again.”

“You’ve nothing to apologize for,” Y/N repeats.

“I have made a spectacle of our family. Attacked Cole-”

“Cole is a pompous arse who surely deserved it.”

“You should not have to make excuses for my indiscretions. This shame is not yours to bear.”

“There’s been nothing shameful.” Y/N turns to face him, cupping his cheek with her hand. “You’ve done naught but honor me, bring comfort to my life. Became the person I confide in and-“

“The person who loves you.” Harwin murmurs, “all of those things mean little, if you know not of my love for you. Devotion to you runs deep in my bones and that for our children. I care for Rhaenyra, that will always be true. But you are the one I love. The one I swore vows to.”

“I know that you love me, Harwin. I’ve never questioned it. Whatever happened before is no matter to me.”

“It matters to me.” Harwin says, “I would do it differently, if I could. Spare you, Rhaenyra, and those boys.”

“You of all people know I would do more for my sister, and worse. But also for you. We cannot go back, only look forward.”

“I wish to take you away from all this. Give you peace, a castle of your own. I realize that Lord and Lady Strong does not hold a candle to Princess and Prince consort of King’s Landing but we would be happy there. I swear it.”

“I would be happy, it matters not of the title.” Y/N agrees. “The freedom alone…” it’s more than she dare imagine. “But you know as well as I- I cannot abandon my post here. I cannot leave her to the vultures. She is my sister.”

Harwin presses his lips to Y/N’s forehead. “We’ve options. That’s all I meant to say. You are not a prisoner to the crown nor this castle.”

Yes. She is.

Part II

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lesbianwriter · 3 months

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I think lonely lamia is my favourite of your works, could we get a part 2

Ofc, ty! Part one

The lamia waited for the human.

It had been so long, so long, since Civilian had stumbled inside the cave. Though, the passing of time was always slow from Villain, from where her only measure of time was the light of the sun or the moon that drifted down in fickle rays down the opening. She was beginning to wonder if the human had dared lie to her about coming back. Lying! To a powerful and ancient creature!

Villain’s cold blood boiled at the thought, and she curled in tighter around herself as she scowled.

She had been so generous! She hadn’t eaten the human—not even a nibble! And Villain surely had enough of an appetite to eat Civilian’s scrawny frame and then some, after years of staying in her lair, away from the human prey she feasted on, eating only the woodland animals that came inside…but nothing as sustaining as humans. Considering all of this, Civilian should have been groveling for mercy! Villain should have swallowed her whole and sated her hunger then and there, without a care for her loneliness.

Frowning, Villain kept intently staring up at the hole at the top of the cave, the sunlight filtering down through the trees, beaming leafy patterns on her face and her rock.

Then, she heard rustling, and she sat upright.

“Hello?” Civilian called out, her voice ringing like a bell in the silence.

Craning her neck, Villain could see that the human was fumbling through the foliage, the sun hitting her hair and a corner of her dress visible through the leaves.

“Human,” Villain called out, softer than she’d intended, softer than how a creature such as herself should speak to a human. “You came back?” Her eyes widened.

The human came back.

“I said I would.” Civilian sat down near the entrance, before inhaling a breath and sliding down, landing on a thick pile of leaves to cushion the fall. Villain slithered closer. With the human was her basket of flowers, and she handed a rose to Villain. “Here…I thought maybe you’d like something brighter down here.”

“Finally, a human that knows how to honor ancient creatures.” Villain said with her usual air of snobbishness, but couldn’t help the tiny smile that came to her face. “Tell me another story, human. I’ve been waiting much too long. Make it good, or I’ll eat you.”

She wrapped her long tail around Civilian, squeezing.

Civilian smiled, the corners of her mouth twitching uneasily. “O—oh.”

“I don’t mean it.” Villain blurted out. Then, she shook her head. No, no comforting the human, the mortal should be scared of her.

Civilian’s eyes flickered around at Villain’s face. “Maybe next time I should bring some livestock. Remember when I was telling about Hero?”

Yes, Villain could recall Civilian telling her about that annoying wannabe knight that had smashed a window to her shop. If only Hero would fall into the hole, that was someone Villain could eat. Then, she wouldn’t have to eat Civilian and wouldn’t be lonely again.

Until she died. Mortals were weak, fleshly stumps that died so easily.

However, for once in her life, the lamia’s throat tightened when she thought about a mortal, about Civilian, dying.

“I could steal some of his livestock for you. Then you’d have something to eat.” The human continued.

“That’s…” Pathetic. Why would livestock be enough the satiate her? She was a fearsome monster, not a weakling. But she couldn’t say that, not with the way that Civilian’s eyes were looking into her’s. “That’s a generous offer. Thank you.”

—

Later that night, the sun had set and Civilian had weaved a spider’s web of stories, her voice soft yet captivating as the silk that trapped flies.

Villain laid down on her rock, holding Civilian in her tail, feeling the warmth of the human’s flesh and the pounding of her heart.

“I want to keep you forever.” Villain sighed.

“I’ll have to go back home to think of more stories.” Civilian gave Villain a sympathetic look. “I promise I’ll come back, okay?”

“You better.” Villain mumbled.

Civilian kissed her on the cheek. “I’ll bring you food next time. And flowers. And anything else you want.”

#my writing #villain x civilian #civilian x villain #thank you anon <3 #sapphic #wlw #monster x human #monster villain #sorry for the wait #this writers block is being mean

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tribbetherium · 6 months

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Daggoths, with their subterranean lifestyles, unconventional limbs and even more peculiar senses, are easily among the most bizarre lineage ever to arise on HP-02017: a clade so derived as to look almost entirely alien. Yet, despite their otherworldy appearance, the daggoths are still mammals: giving birth to live young, and nourishing them with milk, at least for some period of time. And no other species combines the strange with the familiar as the spindled cheeseweaver (Lactarachne brevipus), a descendant of the roof stalac, an insectivore that dwells among the stalactites of the cave's ceiling, a biome obviously absent from the surface world.

Like its predecessor, the spindled cheeseweaver is an ambush hunter, pouncing on insects that it finds among the stone spikes. With long, spindly front digits, yet short, stubby rear ones, it ambles along predominantly with its forelimbs, while arching its back intermittently to secure its grip on another location, in a strange, nine-limbed inchworming gait. Its progress is helped along by broad pads on both fore and hind limbs that are equipped with thousands of tiny, densely packed hairs that allow it to stick tightly to even smooth surfaces, allowing it to negotiate the cavern roof, anchoring with its hind limbs while using its forelimbs to seize insect prey, be it feelerflits that blunder into its outstretched digits or other, flightless bugs that dwell on the rock surface, feeding on bacterial mats and fungi.

But easily the most remarkable characteristic of the cheeseweaver is the namesake ability the females have when rearing their young: they conceal their undeveloped, quasi-larval young in weblike cocoons that they affix to hidden crevices in the cave ceilings. These cocoons, reminescent of an arthropods', are perhaps the most unmammalian feature yet evolved by the daggoths, yet, conversely, is actually what ties the cheeseweaver to its mammalian ancestry: the webs are actually made of modified milk, and further taken to a bizarre extreme thanks to the fermentation and action of several species of symbiotic bacteria living in their mouths and plays a special role in the females.

In both sexes, these bacteria aid in an immune and digestive function, but in females, it contains just the right ingredients to make its silky webs. As daggoths rear their young for only a few days before they leave them, they produce particularly thick and concentrated milk rich in nutrients for their young, with high levels of protein to facilitate their quick growth. This feature is repurposed in this particular species, as when female cheeseweavers lactate, they do so shortly prior to birth, then use their long forelimbs to scoop up the creamy mixture into their cheek pouches. Here, the bacteria begin their work, separating out the proteins into a thick, stringy, and stretchy material after a period of at least 1-2 days that then, piece, by piece, the cheeseweaver female then pulls from her mouth in ropy threads and spins into a cocoon with her four pairs of fore-digits, stretching and spinning and weaving it in a disconcertingly arachnid-like manner into a protective pouch. Once finished, she inserts her rear end into the pouch, births anywhere from six to twelve tiny young each barely 4 millimeters long, and finishes it with a second layer of fibers to safely seal them inside a permeable shell that allows them to respire, as, at this point, the almost-embryonic young breathe entirely through their thin, vacularized skin that directly absorbs oxygen, as their lungs are not yet fully developed.

Once her job is finished, the female cheeseweaver conceals the cocoon with a lick of saliva that masks its scent and firms its adhesion to the surface, and then wanders off with no further care. She can spin several such cocoons during the breeding season, bearing her offspring in batches. The young, in turn, develop safely inside the cocoons, hidden away from predators that hunt mostly by scent. Inside, she has packed into the cocoons as well a rich reserve of the thick, fatty milk, semi-solidified to a soft, jelly-like consistency, to serve as a food source for the developing young. It is during this period that her symbiotic microbes again play an important role: they produce antimicrobial excretions that ward off pathogens and harmful bacteria that may infest the milk and harm the young, but which are tolerated by the beneficial bacteria that are then ingested by the young and become symbionts of them in turn. Once their teeth are fully matured, at the age of about two to three weeks, the young chew their way out of the cocoon and, after consuming the remainder of the empty husk, emerge out into the world, skilled hunters from day one that first practice on microscopic invertebrates before graduating to a diet of bigger insects as they progress toward adulthood.

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And one final late-Spectember entry before schedule conflicts take over again. Sorry again to those who expected much content for Spectember, I hope you don't mind irregular random posting.

#speculative evolution #speculative biology #spec evo #speculative zoology #hamster's paradise #spectember

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dirty-bosmer · 4 months

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First WIP of the Year! Thanks for all the tags this week and last: @thequeenofthewinter @skyrim-forever @elavoria @ladytanithia @lucien-lachance @nuwanders @rainpebble3 @chennnington

From the The Illusionist (sorry for slow updates the writers block is real 😅). A tense convo between Mephala and Nim:

“No, blood will flow as surely as the spinning wheel revolves. Such is the cycle. That you choose to press on aimlessly, widdershins, is of no consequence to Me. Not anymore. I offered you sanctuary, an anchor, a chance to learn what glory could be gained in sacrifice, and instead you clung to this bland mortal life as if it could save you from your nature. Dear Brother, how fruitlessly you toil, trying to keep yourself concealed. So lean you’ve grown in your denial that it’s almost laughable to watch you. Warping, twisting, draining all those caught in your web as if their disfigurement could make your ugliness anymore bearable. As if picking at their threads could ever grant you the power to weave something greater than My tapestry.” Nim rubbed at her nose with the back of her hand, wiped whatever came out on her blouse. “Alright,” she said, “Now can you open the door, or is there more you wish to say? I understand you’re quite upset, maybe feeling a bit cheated in all this. Jealous even, given the circumstances, and while not my intention, I—” “Jealous!” The laugh that bubbled up from that bottomless well of Mephala’s voice elicited a sour taste in Nim’s mouth and the desperate urge to spit. “You poor, misguided Brother of Mine. Did you think to leave here a hero, right what was never wrong? You have taken nothing from Me that I won’t get back ten-fold.” “Okay then. One day I’m sure we’ll look back on all this and laugh.” She gestured again to the door. “So…” “Blind as a worm yet not half as supple.” Mephala’s scoff hung heavy with disgust. “One day you will learn that the end and the beginning are one and the same whether you fork left or fork right. Haven’t you realized by now that every step you take in this world serves the same function? All you’ve done is drag the wheel along another turn.” Whether Mephala’s magic had receded or Nim had found a means to dislocate, she couldn’t say, but the sticky mantle on her skin had lifted, leaving only the weight of the sanctuary’s damp cold. Time elongated, ticked by, chewed at her heels like famished rats gnawing at wallpaper paste, and Nim found herself staring again at the Black Door, staring hard, willing herself to find some message, some meaning in the negative space of the stone relief. Reliving the moment when it all went wrong, when she had become irrevocably loosened from the woman she’d imagined herself to be, she found it. There chiseled upon the door was a vision of the future— a warning or a promise to all those who entered— one fate had since collected upon. How many times had she passed through and refused to consider it in earnest? There, an example for all those who called this place home that the blood of the covenant flowed only one way, and the beating heart it supplied had never been her own.

Tagging forward: @atypicalacademic @memaidraws @justafoxhound @inkysqueed @wispstalk @throughtrialbyfire @viss-and-pinegar @kookaburra1701 @paraparadigm

#Sonny writes #wip wednesday #The Illusionist #The Dark Brotherhood #Oblivion fic #was brain storming this with my fiance. His feedback: no says “blind as a worm” I was dumbfounded :o

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daze4all · 6 months

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Short-Lived Reader x Yandere Route Series

“Your loves will always be short-lived and end in Tragedy” prophesied an Oracle from the divination committee of foresight to her one day.

She had scoffed at the thought. Certainly, in all her lives that could not be the case.

Yet she was a fool and fell for a short-lived species and yet reincarnation after reincarnation, she did the same thing loved and broke her heart over a man who hardly reached the 3 digits her lifetimes constantly repeated.

She remembers painfully each love. more sweet and sorrowful than the last.

An unrequited love, an unfulfilled love. One rejected her, one loved another, or worse died.

She wrote down the tales as a warning and reminder to herself each time so she would not be a fool to fall in love again so recklessly and yet it happened. Again and again.

Perhaps the most tragic was the current tale that came to pass.

The prophecy shall not come to pass as long as I am here he promised.

When those lost return who do you choose?

Branching Route series

Long-lived reader is cursed to loved short-lived men. Alternate takes of the idea

We live laugh and love only to lose each other in the end.

Honkai Star Rail

Jing Yuan Route

Writing on Ao3 MaraStruck! Yandere Jing Yuan x Reader

For a slow descent into madness is the most insidious of all

Weaving a translucent web, you are caught in claws of erudition.

Dan Heng Route

You have caught the eye of the hunt that will hunt you down to the end of the universe.

Blade Route

Destruction destroy all that so that love will be reborn.

For I have thing for stars which shine and when the lights go out in tragedy.

Genshin routes maybe too sometime

“Take my heart and make me forget my tragedies” pleaded Reader to Jing Yuan

“Only if you do the same,” he says with a sad smile as she shyly nods and he captures her lips in his in response of a promise made.

#honkai star rail #hsr blade #male yandere x reader #dan heng #imbibitor lunae #yandere imagines #honkai star rail imagines #blade x reader #yandere jing yuan

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muzzleroars · 10 months

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Is v1 scared of death ?

it wasn't, at the start of everything - v1 boots to a dying world, its corroded mind immediately clinging to corrupted ideas about its purpose, knowing it is for war but instead thinking it must forever cause it into perpetuity instead of just fighting when called for. it is not yet a self, consciousness a faint flicker in a mind vast and filling fast with so much information its damaged computer can't fully process the data before it weaves into twisted code. when it meets v2, a shift occurs in recognition of the self, a mirrored image that it cannot copy - what's wrong? mirage is the emerging sentience, the understanding that it is v1, it is made for war, and it is in hell. it is here to end everything, and it cannot stop even if it had other wishes. to create war is its fundamental self and should it stop, everything it is would unravel. fear has no place but it feels it as an unnamed presence in the back of its mind. it has a self now, but the self can't project forward in concrete terms. confidence low. simulation unstable. cancel and move on.

but what happens when its self keeps growing, what happens when v1 follows whims instead of a directive? a new self is fostered, it is fed on curiosity instead of blood, it wants to learn instead of make war - these sides do not reconcile until it meets with gabriel. like v2, something is tripped again and in gabriel, its curiosity and bloodthirst are woven together, they fasten into a solid core of being, into what must be v1's soul. v1 is still not regularly existential but it has the capacity, endless in fact, which would only result in an abyss of inaction should it give way to it. it's a by-product of how its mind works, how easily it could be overtaken by the inevitability of death, unending loops of thoughts that lead nowhere or back into each other...and so v1 doesn't actively engage it, and in fact protects against it.

yet the fear grows, directly proportional to the life v1 gains in and outside of itself - it develops interests, it wants to see more, know more, do more than what it was made for, and it wants to stay with gabriel, learn about him and love him, have a whole life with him. it has so much to lose now and when it stops, it will be the end of everything, no spirit inhabiting the flesh...or maybe not. it wonders if it could have a ghost in some way, if the quantum particles that make up its mind are forever impressed with who it is, with what it has become, and if they would carry it on in some way. it would be caught in chaos it knows, the only reason it thinks now because its mind is so well-controlled, the particles so slow or directed that they can be turned into a thinking machine - without the computer, who would it express, experience? even if those particles remember, who would it be in a volatile outside world, separated from one another and scattered so far they could never meet again? would quantum strings still entangle them, too enmeshed to truly be apart? would its consciousness then be a web strung far and wide across space, echoing with who v1 was but unable to attain any cohesion without the deep frozen crystals that turn prisms into qubits? it thinks, somehow, this could be worse than nothing, so it continues to avoid thinking on it.

this avoidance is what i think ultimately causes the issues it and gabriel need to confront as it begins to fail though. they're not totally unprepared, but with the layers of protective coding against contemplating its own death, they're also not in the best position they could be. and as they attempt to figure things out now, as v1's code degrades and those restrictions are lifted, gabriel sees the full extent of its thoughts, the existential depth he knew it was capable of but had never heard at length. something in its mind was obviously given over to this a long time ago and has thought on nothing else while the rest of it ran unaware of the dread it was spinning. it is highly tuned to its demise, and it has considered inanimation at length (it still thinks about some of the first words gabriel said to it) or the possibility of its echo remaining in the quantum particles that have housed its consciousness for so long, they know nothing else. it asks gabriel several times where it will go, what will happen to it, and over and over he needs to admit he doesn't know. it tells him it doesn't want either, it doesn't want to shut off but it doesn't want to be a quantum ghost stretched thin and unthinking. it wants answers it can't compute, it wants answers gabriel can't divine. and it is very afraid.

#putting existential dread into the machine #v1 is really far too intelligent for its own good #it's also considered the possible limited consciousness of the inanimate #BUT it also hates that!!!! man!!!!!#cake answers #v1

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welcomingdisaster · 3 months

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Many Sentences Monday!

i was tagged by @meadowlarkx & @thelordofgifs to share some fic! i'm super self indulgent, so here's the first scene of a "maglor comes to aman" fic with a twist.

1: The Pipe.

The little room is not decorated how he would expect.

Though of course it is exactly as it should be. There are the many intricately woven banisters, hung along the walls, clearly Maedhros’ choices, his style. There are the gouache paintings of leaping long-legged horses, their features exaggerated by movement, so dynamic they seem almost birdlike, painted plainly by Fingon’s hand. There’s the huge padded armchair in a tasteful shade of forest-green—Maedhros—and the short coat of brilliant crimson slung over its back—Fingon—and the tangle of vines outside the windows and the short-legged hound on the duvet and the tabby cats outside and the ornate teal-and-lilac service set on the counter, certainly gifted because neither of them would pick it, and the open easternmost window and the smell of roasting garlic.

It is the things which are not there, which he has come to expect.

It is the outhouse, the lack of indoor plumbing, the candle-gems set into the walls, look of slight confusion on the face of the servant when he turns to feel for the light switch. It is the realization that he cannot call; cannot send a telegram; that is had not occurred to him to pack a typewriter and so all his correspondence and his writing will again be hand; that his poems, should they ever again be published in this land, will need to be painstakingly copied, word by word, onto the parchment.

It ought to be easy to fall back into it. He had missed it, he tries to remember. He had thought the world noisy and overwhelming. He had wanted to run from it. He’d seen soot stains on trees that had once been virginal, had once been white, and his head had spun with it. He had watched the factory-smoke rise and thought it unlovely and unworthy of living for. He had stared at the monstrous bulk of a locomotive, had tasted its bitter smoke on his tongue, and felt the awfulness and sublimity of invention as he had at the gates of Angband.

And yet he is happy that he has taken along his gramophone.

No one had expected him.

News of the boats do not come; gossip travels through word of mouth and webs of osanwë across the city and into the countryside, but his hosts are out hunting. There are two servants only in the house; a quiet young maiden, barely seventy, there to mind the horses and the goats, and a man who had clearly once been a soldier, watching the house in the owners’ absence.

They speak to him in Sindarin, faintly accented with entirely different accents. The maiden, Cinnogil, lives there full-time, though mostly with the animals; she is responsible for the horses’ training and upkeep, and to this duty she dedicates herself with a fierce passion. He does not ask what brings her out of her house so young, as he would have asked in another life.

The man, Singdan, is there only some of the time. He lives close by, he says. He comes and helps with the cooking and the cleaning, at times, in exchange for gems and for fresh cuts of hart and for legal work, now and again.

But really it can barely be called an estate.

“They keep a room for you, I think,” Singdan tells him, as he helps him unload his mule and stack his luggage in a jumbled heap in the mud room. The short-legged dog weaves around their ankles when make their way down the hall, lit by sparkling silver gems, the walls decorated with rugs far too warm and too heavy for the climate. “They have for as long as I have known them.”

The room—his room—is at the end of the hall. His eyes trace the walls; the simpler, more elegant decorations in silver, the blue and white bedspread, the lyre and the flute, the inkwell, the bottle of aged rum with the books on the bookshelf, the ceramic horses on the writing table. Someone has hung a change of clothes for him in the corner closet.

There is no dust, no trace of disuse. Only one thing out of place—the mahogany pipe on the windowsill.

He crosses the room and picks it up, holding it up to the light. It is well-used. Warm from the sun streaming in through the glass, streaked slightly on the inside.

Out of them three only Maedhros smokes. Likely he had sat here, and had the window open.

(Why is there so much guilt, with that thought?)

“Shall you come and dine,” Singdan asks, “while we wait?”

Thank you. He is not hungry.

---

tagging @eilinelsghost @outofangband @melestasflight @polutrope @grey-gazania @that-angry-noldo @searchingforserendipity25 & @polutrope @jouissants anyone else who hasn't done it yet and wants in!

#lena speaks #my fic

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jinx-on-mars-19xx · 11 hours

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Take it Out of My Chest

🩸 Previous Parts Here 🩸

Dom x Colson (Yungblud x Machine Gun Kelly)

Warning: ABO dynamics (knots, slick, heat, mpreg), alpha serial killer/hitman Dom, omega mob boss Kells, scared boys, asthma, MF being a meddling alpha, threats, Dom almost snapping, Collette being a saint, awkward boys, sweet kisses, teasing each other, back handing, blood, deep talks, Big Bad Things revealed, past SA, past miscarriage, terrible parents, past major abuse (seriously! Keep yourselves safe!), self hate, mentions of killing, past murder threats from family, pregnancy talks, terrified Kells, playful insults, body worship, trigger talks, boys getting naked, enemies to lovers 💣 Rating: lets say explicit

All ideas helped by @iamnotanearthlingmotherfucker 🖤

Dom could feel his asthma acting up as he ran back to the place his lover called home. His mate. His family. He made something pure from himself and he couldn't wrap his mind around it. He had an errant thought he hoped he didn't give his child his shite lungs but even that made him smile. He made a baby. With Colson. His mate.

For once he went on the elevator when he reached the hotel. He was pretty sure the staff would allow him but as he reached to push the button he was stopped in his tracks by the sight of his forearm. Oh. Oh! His omega bit him! His mark had marked him back. Fighting or not it must have counted to their bodies. If the Alpha hadn't been so excited he would have facepalmed himself.

His phone went off and he picked it up to find a simple text. It was from the omega he was heading to see as if Kells could feel him approaching. For a second he couldn't figure out the meaning of the string of numbers but when the glass box stopped and refused to open on the correct floor it all made sense. A pass code. Mr. Gun was welcoming him back. With a smile that hurt his cheeks and felt near manic Dom typed in the code but the moment the doors opened his glee vanished. Or retreated. He could still feel it in his chest but it was hiding, his childlike happiness protecting itself from another bad Alpha. “Megan.” He growled as his hand reached for the bag at his hip. He didn't even carry his regular kit anymore after Col had made so many playful jokes. He didn't need the full thing but he never went anywhere without at least one blade. And that bitch was about to see what it felt like.

“Hey Daddy’s bitch. I thought I ran you off.” She purred, winking at him as they faced off in front of the elevator. “I honestly thought I'd find you in pieces on the sidewalk.”

She saw him. She knew he was outside the window and she'd kissed his mate to mark what she claimed as hers. “Not so easy to get rid of but I figured I should take out Col’s trash like a good mate.” He matched her energy even though all he wanted was to find his omega and… well he hadn't decided what to do yet. He just worried about letting his lover see him like that. They weren't hidden, there was a small hallway entrance from the elevator but it was open to the flat. Somewhere his family was waiting for him.

“I should have known he'd pick a pussy. Look at you being a good little leashed bitch. I guess that's why it couldn't work between him and I, I have to be on top.”

“I get you fink tha’s an insult but you obviously don't know good pussy. I feel bad for whoever you convince to fuck you.” This was what he loved, those moments before a kill where they traded verbal barbs. She might be a spider weaving her web but he was often compared to a cat. It wouldn't be hard to bat this bitch to death.

Megan stepped closer, standing on tiptoe to press herself close. He knew she was trying to show she wasn't scared of him but it didn't prove shite to him. “You should ask your bitch omega. He knows mine is magic.”

“Dom? You here?” The killer was distracted by his lover's voice instantly and Megan slipped out of the apartment as she laughed. His urges were burning inside him but they died down as the other man walked out to join him.

“You look-” They started to speak at the same time and stopped short. While they would normally playfully insult each other they couldn't at the moment. Everything felt strange.

“I was worried you wouldn't come back.” Kells made himself be honest. Open. His mother had told him he had to try.

“Oh? Cause of tha’ bitch? Nah. We good.” The Alpha shrugged, his heart in his throat. Col was still shirtless and his gaze kept dropping to that anarchy tat. Somewhere inside was something he helped make.

“We aren't. I fucked up. I mean, it's not like I owe you shit but…” Kells felt his emotions on a thin fuse. His eyes burned as if he might cry. He swallowed whatever he was about to say as his mother tried to sneak from his bedroom to the front door. The woman couldn't be stealth to save her life.

“Happy to see you back. You feeling better?” She asked of Dom as she stopped next to him and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

He gave her a genuine smile and a soft hug. “M’great. Don't worry luv, I got ‘em.” He gave her a little wink and even though she had no thoughts of him of the sort she still blushed. There was something incredibly charming about the father of her grandchild. Oh. Oh absolutely not. That thought sobered her right up.

“You kids play nice.” She teased as she stepped to the door and paused a moment before making her exit. “Dom sweetheart, I was thinking of offering you and your brother the apartment down the hall. Do you think Tom would like it?” Oh, so it wasn't just Colson who had been occasionally texting his best friend. They were all getting to know each other. The Alpha might actually have a family. Shite.

“I fink as long as it's got good WiFi he's ‘appy.” Dom grinned back as his lover floundered behind them.

As the door closed and they were left alone- Kells thought, he felt a little awkward again. “Fuck me I guess. Could have sworn I was the boss.”

“No you couldn't.” Dom joked with a happy smile and Colson chuckled.

“No I couldn't.” He took a deep breath as the Alpha walked closer and let that scent comfort him. “You came back.”

Dom’s grin grew wider. “Ya needed me.”

“Fuck you.” Kells huffed back, reaching for the other man's hand. “Do me a favor?”

“Any’fing.” And Dom meant it.

Colson didn't use words, he didn't have to. He just yanked his lover's scarred arm and pulled the smaller man flush against him, their lips meeting in a soft kiss. “I fhought you ‘ated kisses.”

“Mmm. Had to get her off my face.” The words were muttered between gentle pecks, neither was ready for much more. Together didn't mean everything was fixed. They were both too scarred for that. “She made me puke.”

“Oh yeah? ‘Ope you rinsed ya mouf out.” Dom joked, his mouth parting as his omega licked playfully over the seam of his lips.

“Mmm no, you're better than Listerine.” Col laughed and made a noise like a squeak when the Alpha squeezed his hips.

They stood in the doorway of Colson's bedroom for a while, sharing kisses and wandering touches. It felt like a metaphor for all they were going through. The in-between. Did they go to the bedroom or did the Alpha leave? Dom knew he couldn't go but he couldn't just fall into bed yet either.

He took a breath and eased back from the kiss but he didn't pull his hands away. If the omega needed space he could take it. He wouldn't disconnect. “‘Ow long you known?”

The words felt like cold water on Col's head but he didn't pull away. Not yet. The comforting hold started to feel suffocating but he leaned back against the doorframe and met the younger man's gaze. “Know what?”

“Come on Cols. I might be daft but it's your body. We should ‘ave talked about it by now. You need to see a doctor or summat.” The thought made Dom’s pulse quicken and his stomach sour. He fucking hated doctors. Maybe a midwife?

“I don't know what the hell you're talking about. Come on, let's lay down.” Colson stepped away but he pulled his Alpha after him. He was trembling all over but he thought he might could stop the killer from talking another way.

“Colson come on, ya mum told me. I should ‘ave known but I fhought- I won't explain wha’ I fhought cause you'll fink I'm daft but… We need to talk about our b-” Or not. Kells backhanded his Alpha so hard Dom stumbled back against the door frame. In-between again so soon, but he caught himself and stepped closer. Refusing to be pushed away so easily.

“S-sorry. I didn't mean-”

“It's okay. Ain't upset. It's a lot, I get it. Especially wiv ‘ow you live. I understand but we need-”

“The fuck you do!” Colson didn't mean to scream. He didn't mean to use so much volume his throat hurt. He didn't mean to shake and he definitely didn't mean for his eyes to fill so full he almost cried. He couldn't lose his shit. They were so close to making it work.

Dominic took a deep breath and the scent of terrified omega hurt his heart. He didn't want to make his love cry but they needed to talk and too many pieces of the puzzle were starting to click into place. He didn't want to scare his mate so he walked around to his side of the bed. He kept his distance but sat down, facing away for a moment. He couldn't look at the man while he spoke. He knew that sometimes the only way to make someone feel safe opening up was to know someone else had been through a similar battle.

Kells didn't move. He couldn't. He could feel something dark and twisted between them but it didn't feel wrong. It was as if their masks had fallen away completely and their devils were meeting each other. He just stayed standing next to the bed and met Dom’s eyes in the reflection of the shower wall.

“Me dad was so bloody exited to ‘ave a baby Alpha. Me mum told me it was the best day of ‘is life when I were born. Tha’ didn't last. Pretty soon I showed signs of asthma and he got upset he was given a broken kid.” Dom shrugged but it was only the beginning and Col could tell. “Me parents fucking ‘ated each over. Me dad beat me mum a lot. And me. He said the only good fings about ‘megas was a wet cunt, a willing slave, and a top price broodmare. But he didn't even marry one. Mum was a beta. He said one weren't good enough for tha’.” He sighed, hunching in on himself as he neared the first part he had to fight to say aloud.

“When I were about seven I got a lil sister. Ended up wiv two but… summat really broke in ‘im after ‘er. It probably always was. She was like you. An omega. Beautiful and sweet and so small. He was pissed. He wanted to sell ‘er right away but mum convinced him to wait. Dad he… he must ‘ave fhought I should ‘ave felt summat wiv ‘er around because when I jus’ treated ‘er like me sister he took me to a d-doctor. Beta bitch said he ‘ad a special test. He were jus’ a sick fuck who liked touching little boys. When I didn't pop a knot he said I were broken.”

Kells choked on a breath and his knees felt too weak to hold him up. He sat on the bed and Dom turned to face him, sitting sideways with one leg bent on the mattress. The omega couldn't speak yet but he stayed facing the man in front of him. He could at least show him that respect.

“Beatings got worse. He fhought he could force me to be a better Alpha and not be so bloody soft. I kept me sisters safe until… when I got a bit older and still didn't ‘ave a proper rut he… One night he brought a lady ‘ome. She was ‘is age about and I fink he'd been fucking ‘er on the side. ‘Ell if I know. He put a gun to me ‘ead and told me if I didn't fuck ‘er right he'd kill me. I still couldn't… But she did anyway.” Colson couldn't stop a small sob from escaping and Dom’s red gaze locked on his. “Funny fing... I 'it puberty a monf later around me next birfday. Jus' a late bloomer. When I say I understand…” He shrugged with a self deprecating smile.

The omega took a shaking breath and spoke so fast he wasn't even sure he made sense. “I was pregnant when my dad sold me. I lost… lost them after mom and Travis took me in. He- my dad's brother he… and my father caught him. Of course an omega's word didn't mean shit. I was too much like my mom. He left me for dead in the hands of a trafficker. If Travis hadn't found me…” He paused for a moment, his head dizzy and his stomach sick. Was this supposed to help? Make them closer? Wouldn't his Alpha leave after knowing he was broken? “I was twelve.” His large hand dropped to cup his stomach momentarily before it fell between them on the bed. “I didn't know. I didn't know until they were gone. Mom helped me and let me go on blockers. So you see… I can't do what you think. I'm broken.”

Dom's brows furrowed and his heart hurt. His mate was so very wrong but he was scared to push. He was starting to realize why Collette asked him to be patient. He just hoped their child could be too. “I don't fink you are. Or if you is, I am too and maybe we got the right shattered parts to make summat whole and beautiful togever.” He soothed.

“You're a fucking freak. I hope you know that.” The omega offered a playful tease as their fingers met and twined between them. Just that gentle touch gave him butterflies.

It was hard for Dom. He was desperate to show his child love and to make sure they were safe and sound but he knew his lover's mental state was easily tipped over the edge. He couldn't push too hard or he might lose them both. Everything was so new even though it felt so deep. “If you could… would it be summat you want?” He asked carefully.

“If I could- which I can't so don't get any ideas, yeah I think I'd like to. But I can't.”

Dom huffed a soft laugh at his stubborn lover. “But you been sick-”

“Nightmares.”

“And you obviously got a problem wiv scents,”

“She stank. She's not my fucking Alpha and she forced me to kiss her! Of course I puked.”

“And you been ‘orny-”

“For you. Asshole. Not anymore.”

“Liar. And you been aching.”

“Who wouldn't after that monster dick. You made me bleed like some fucking virgin.”

“Mmm, you was. And it's been over four weeks.”

“Oh fuck you. Creepy psycho bitch.” Colson grumbled but it was honestly a compliment by that point. A pet name.

“Your psycho bitch. Ain't gonna win tonight am I?” Dom huffed back softly and his mate gave him a brilliant toothy smile.

“Absolutely not. But…” Kells took a breath and settled back against the bed, tugging the smaller man to crawl closer. “I suppose if it helps you sleep at night you can keep trying to convince me.” Both their gazes dropped to the omega's stomach and Dom knew it was the closest he'd get to acceptance. It was Col's way of saying he knew, it was the only thing he could admit for fear of getting attached.

“Alright. I'll convince you.” Dom vowed but it wasn't a promise to prove the omega was whelped. It was to prove he was a worthy partner. That even as mad as he was he could show love, he could take care of his family, he could be a good mate and father. “I fink you'll figure it out in a few months when your belly proves it for me.”

“Bullshit. I worked out like crazy just to put on muscle. I can't gain weight for shit.” The omega huffed as he pulled the other man down on top of him.

Dom caught the past tense of the statement. His lover at least wasn't lifting weights anymore. Pretty twat knew already but couldn't say it and the Alpha could accept that. At least he was being safe. Well as safe as a fucking mob boss could be. “Ya did good Cols.” The words were soft and they made the omega wriggle underneath him. It was to cover a multitude of things- that he stopped lifting weights, that he pushed Megan away, that he let Dom back in that night, and even for how he shared. Logically the Alpha knew they couldn't do this together without talking and learning about the other.

“Shut up.” The omega snapped back, his gaze flashing gold and flicking away. He couldn't look at the smaller man when his gaze was so heavy and intense. Fuck him.

Dom huffed softly but took the opportunity to press a kiss to Col’s chest. His full lips felt soft and warm and needy to the other man. The next kiss was to his collarbone, and another over his nipple. A jolt of pleasure like electricity moved through him as if there were a nerve from his chest to his core. A sharp gasp escaped him and Dom seemed to freeze a moment before he did it again but the bastard didn't linger for long. The Alpha inched down his body a little further but when Kells realized his destination was more sugar than spice he tangled his fingers in Dom's wild hair and yanked.

Dominic hissed softly but his dick still jerked. Pain was a confusion for him, at least from his lover. “Wha?” He asked as faux innocently as he could muster but when his eyes rolled up to meet his mate's they were candy apple red.

“I thought you were trying to get your dick wet, not be a snuggle slut with my womb. Sneaky psycho bitch.”

Dom bit his lower lip and let it roll back out slowly. There was still blood dripping from the cut that Colson left. He'd never been backhanded that hard. His dad liked to use his fist. All his kisses left claims on the omega's skin and he let himself admire the sight. “Can't I do boff?”

“Absolutely not. At least not right now.” Colson was trying to be good, he didn't want to tell his lover he could never be a d- he couldn't even think the word without having to swallow panic. He just couldn't handle it right that moment with everything so fresh in his mind and Megan's scent still clinging to his skin.

Dom paused for a moment as if he were computing the new information and deciding what move to make next. Finally he nodded and crawled back up, laying his body flush against the other man's. “Ya know I'm not psycho yeah?” He asked and Colson arched a brow. “Sociopaf. It's different.” He wasn't offended by the nickname but he needed the omega to know. He wasn't even sure if shite like that was genetic or not.

“Apples and oranges. Still a piece of fruit.” Kells teased and Dom grinned. “Sorry about the um…” He sighed, ruffling the younger man's hair before dropping his hand. “I should ask if shit triggers you.”

“Ain't a gun neiver.”

“No like… I don't want to remind you of… shit.” Colson wasn't good at this. He didn't do relationships and he certainly didn't care to protect others emotions besides maybe his mom.

“Oh.” The Alpha had no clue what to say. It wasn't like he'd done this before in a healthy way. The man underneath him was his sex list.

“Hair pulling?”

“S’okay.”

“I shouldn't have rocked your shit. I'm sorry.”

“I doubt it'll be ya last reason to bitch slap me.” Dom was surprised when his mate laughed and it put a happy smile on his face.

“What about…” Colson trailed off as his sight explored the boy. His neck was covered in small healing bites and his arm was scarred deep. He was pretty sure with that one he hit bone. “Teeth?”

“I don't fink you could stop if ya tried. But it's okay. I don't fink I got none of ‘ose. Me minds too fucked.”

Col had to stop himself from snorting, he might be blonde but he wasn't dumb. Normally. Something would come up at some point. It had to. He just wished he could know ahead of time. “You wouldn't let me bend over.” When Dom shuddered he knew he was right. “We'll figure it out.”

“Wha' about you?”

“What about me? Oh-” Maybe he was a little dumb. The omega shrugged and sighed, his long fingers finding their way under Dom’s shirt. “Everything sets me off. I never know what it'll be. It's not like I've really done this shit before but baby I am a gun, don't be afraid to use me. Just do it and we'll figure out this shit as we go.”

“You a cheesy fuck Mr. Gun.”

“And you're overdressed.” He grumbled back, pulling the boy's hoodie and shirt off over his head. He felt a rush of heat between his thighs as he tossed them away and stared at his lover above him.

“And you bossy.”

“Duh. Now…” The silence felt so loud and Col realized it was his blood rushing in his ears. He was nervous as hell or maybe excited. He had never tried fucking a guy when it wasn't life or death. He'd always just stuck his dick in beta girls, they couldn't tell the difference in what he was and an Alpha. He certainly never thought he'd be wanting to get fucked, that bastard turned his life upside down. “Weren’t you about to blow me?” It wasn't a beg for sex, he wasn't sure he could ask for that and besides their first day together they'd basically been priests. Whatever happened the night before felt like two kids in band camp, not two adults with a- no. Nope. Fuck.

He watched the killer lick his red swelling lips and felt them both twitch. He couldn't rush this shit, he hadn't exactly been joking about how easy he was to break.

“I were?” Dom asked, his own cock so hard behind his slacks he ached.

Colson smiled and nodded, his shaking hands the only giveaway he was nervous and he knew he was making marks in the younger man's soft skin. “You were.”

“I were. I fhought I were about to eat you out but alright.” The omega inched further down his lover's body.

“Oh. Well… fuck. Wait do you have your god damn grandpa shoes on my fucking bed? Do you have any idea how expensive these sheets are?” The switch in tone was so fast it made Dom's head spin.

He tried not to think his omega was an OCD princess but the thought did cross his mind. His red eyes rolled as he kicked his shoes off to the side behind him- all without pulling away from his mate. “Me creepers ain't grandpa shoes and nei'ver is me pants. Sorry I ain't got expensive tastes ya ‘ighness.”

“You're lucky you're cute. If you didn't have such a slutty looking mouth with those fucking DSLs I'd kick your ass out for that.” The mob boss growled mostly teasingly.

Dom tried not to let on when something inside him was shocked that he didn't hate hearing those words from Col. He'd heard so much about his whore mouth growing up. Or that he looked like an omega prostitute. From his lover it sounded like a compliment but one thing confused him. “DSLs?”

Kells chuckled. He was almost surprised at how innocent the murderer was. It made him appear even younger. “It's like banging a teenager.” Colson cringed at the thought but Dom just tilted his head as he sat back on his pink socked ankles. He'd have to ask about those at some point, the guy was always wearing them. He busied himself by working his jeans open, raising his ass to let Dom pull them off before he could second guess his needs. “Dick sucking lips.”

The Alpha was so distracted as he worked his omega's too tight jeans down his inked thighs he barely registered the phrase. “Well I ain't before.” He explained offhandedly but once he got the guy nude he whined. Colson was gorgeous, that he already knew. He had to climb off the bed backwards to pry the material off and he stood there wide eyed, worshiping Kells with his gaze. His lover flushed pink as he pulled his legs bent and slowly let them fall open, giving Dom a visual to speed his pulse and make his knot try to pop. The omega was obviously wet, his folds shiny and blushed and his cock was full, resting on his hip. “But I fink I can learn.” Dom groaned, his voice somehow already hoarse. He was throbbing as he stripped his own pants to the floor but he kept his boxer briefs in place. This was about Colson until the man asked otherwise.

“Yeah?” Col’s breath caught in his chest at the look Dom gave him. “Come here. Let me teach you?” It was a dangerous game offering that to an Alpha but his was far from normal.

“Please?” He tripped in his haste to get close again but he caught himself on the bed and crawled closer. The tip of his dick was already trying to escape his briefs, pink and leaking a mess against his stomach. This was about Colson though. He would prove he was a good lover. That he wasn't like those pushy fucks he took out. His omega could feel safe with him. “Wanna taste you.”

“Fuck yes."

Author's Note/Tags: @iamnotanearthlingmotherfucker @hollywoodxwhore @jaxbreaker @fenoy7 @cole-way-iero28 if anyone wants tagged let me know! 🖤

Sorry for the cliffhanger but it was getting long. I know this was a heavy chapter but the next one should be fun! These boys have been through so much but they're good for each other. I hope you enjoyed! 💣🖤

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