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rainbow-starlight · 5 months

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Why is Help Wanted 2 Sun… Like That?

Okay, I’ve been putting off making this post until I felt like I had a better idea of what was going on, and now that I’ve watched at least part of a play-through and gone over the lines a whole bunch, I think I’m ready.

I’m gonna talk about my thoughts on Sun as a character as well as HW2 as a whole here, so it’ll be a bit long. Pop some popcorn or something.

Please keep in mind that this is all my personal opinion and you’re free to disagree with it! In fact, if you think I’m totally wrong, please tell me why. I love new perspectives!

SO! Let’s get right into it, shall we?

First things first: Help Wanted 2 Sun is not the same guy as Security Breach/Ruin Sun. If his personality difference was significant enough to surprise you, that’s because he’s a different person.

I’m not entirely sure how much of Help Wanted 2 is meant to be actually happening, but I think that at least the mini games are training simulations.

However, it’s important to note that a lot of the stuff happening in the mini games is just… nonsense. How did Freddy get frozen like that? What’s with those regular batteries in his arms? Why are half the supplies in first aid explicitly for robots and not humans? Why is there a shredder table in the daycare for kids to stick fingers into?

Some of this can be shrugged off with the usual “FazCo is meant to be comedically shitty and the tech often doesn’t make sense anyway,” but the first aid simulation is what really stood out to me. Even with the previous explanations, that doesn’t explain the calming gas mask that could only ever fit Helpy or the steel wool scrubber or the tank cleaner spray bottle among the medical supplies. If the goal is to train new first aid staff to avoid lawsuits, it’s doing a pretty poor job of it. So… what is it for?

I touched on this idea previously with my post about Sun’s AI being trained on kids’ artwork. The idea of FazCo making a silly new employee training game as a means of harvesting behavioral data to train their AIs seems very within their realm of scummy.

This is why the Arts & Crafts mini game exists. It’s literally a task that requires exact copying. Maybe it’s essentially like teaching an AI to solve captchas by feeding it a bunch of data on how humans solve them correctly and incorrectly.

Maybe its presence is explained to employees as fun practice with the VR system or a break activity during training or something.

This would explain several things about the game.

The existence of the shredder table and Sun shredding literally ALL of your artwork: It being a funny way to despawn the stuff you make is a lot more reasonable when that’s exactly what it’s for in-universe, too. The generators in the play structures are unsafe enough, but that would’ve been on another level if it were real.

Sun’s line “Be creative on your own time, we are making ART!” It literally isn’t a creative activity, it’s a task. I know you can’t really apply logic to a lot of FNAF stuff, especially the DCA’s design, but if Sun were actually this detail-oriented and perfectionistic with everything, he’d never be able to function in childcare.

The fact that Sun’s “fear” of the dark seems like a bit. It literally is a bit. There’s no threat, it’s not real. I originally thought he just wanted the player out of his space faster and didn’t know how to assert a boundary there, but I think it’s actually just to make the player finish the tasks faster for data collection purposes.

Possibly also why he’s so comfortable being casually rude to the player. He is a jester, after all, and the player has lots of opportunities to do things they shouldn’t, too. It’s basically all a bit.

Also… what if the minigames have versions of the base AIs in there? It’s a version of the Sun AI with the theater programming and the basics of the childcare stuff? His entire existence is a shitty little simulation where he runs a singular activity for grown adults who can’t (or won’t) follow very simple instructions.

The biggest thing that’s been bothering me about the takes I’ve seen regarding HW2 Sun’s personality is that people have been calling him “mean” while completely ignoring the circumstances he’s reacting to. If a coworker came into my personal space and I was so generous as to share my favorite activity with them and they proceeded to intentionally ignore the rules I set and EAT SUPPLIES I USE FOR WORK? Yeah, no, I’d react like that too.

There’s definitely something interesting about how genuinely excited and happy Sun sounds when first welcoming his new friend the player to the daycare and inviting them to Arts & Crafts vs. when they return. He seems like he WANTS to befriend the player, but the game just assumes you’ll be upsetting him so there’s no option for dialogue where you’re nice to him and respect his boundaries and participate in an activity with him in a way he’s comfortable with.

I say “in a way he’s comfortable with” because he is a little weird about the whole “sit right there and DON’T MOVE” thing. He does seem actually excited and enthusiastic about the idea of shooting darts at the items you want so he can get them for you, though. Maybe because he sees it as a happy compromise, or maybe because it’s supposed to be a fun part of the game he’s programmed to be in charge of.

I saw some other commentary on Sun (primarily thinking of @kazzykatt) talking about how he seems almost excessively self-sufficient, and how this could possibly be due to neglect (he and Moon definitely aren’t as well cared for as the other animatronics, the generators in the daycare are a very lazy fix for actually reprogramming Moon properly, he seems bitter that he can’t fix the carousel on his own and he and Moon don’t seem to trust the player to fix it, their design is clearly better suited to the stage but didn’t get changed for the daycare, I could go on and on), and this would also explain his control issues to an extent.

Sun, in SB and HW2, doesn’t leave the daycare. He has so little that he’s in control of in his own life. He used to be on stage (and based on his dialogue probably misses it quite a lot) but had the job he was built for taken from him. He’s a perfectionist that’s constantly overwhelmed by too many things being marked top priority in his system, working too many hours with too many small children. Of course he’d be desperate to hold onto any little bit of control he has.

Honestly, when I first heard his voice lines, the initial vibe I got wasn’t “wow they made Sun mean” but “wow Sun sounds actually miserable” and I’m kind of surprised more people didn’t pick up on that. He sounds less bitchy and more like he’s lashing out because he’s trapped in an awful situation that’s completely out of his hands.

“Wait, are you saying none of HW2’s characterization should be taken seriously?”

You might be asking that, but my answer is a resounding NO! This is definitely still a Sun, and I think seeing two different Suns (even if we don’t know how much of HW2’s personality we can assume is meant to be taken seriously) is really helpful for interpreting what the base Sun personality might have.

It’s also important to keep in mind that none of the Suns we’ve seen were in a good situation. Security Breach Sun had the virus, Ruin Sun had gone slightly mad from isolation, and HW2 Sun is stuck in a shitty simulation babysitting bored adult staff as they fail to complete simple tasks. What we mostly know about him is how he responds to stress, and this is why there’s so much room for interpretation!

Here’s some traits I think every version of the Sun AI would have.

Love of making things. Despite everything, HW2 Sun seems to genuinely love doing arts & crafts. Especially with googly eyes. This could kind of be assumed from SB Sun, but he was also trying to entertain/bribe a child.

On this note… interest in fixing things? Maybe he just wants to avoid having to rely on staff, but if he and Moon are subject to that much neglect, it makes sense that he’d try to learn to do repairs himself. I saw @pixelchills talking about the possibility that the S.T.A.F.F. Bots in the DCA’s room are not there because Moon broke them, but because Moon collected them for Sun to practice fixing. It seems feasible to me, especially since taking something apart and putting it back together might have the same calming and satisfying effect on Sun as completing something like a paint-by-numbers.

Playful insults and lots of drama. I don’t mean actual rudeness, I mean friendly teasing. Again, he is a jester. A lot of his HW2 insults come across more like this. Hell, even his compliments come across like this with the delivery and immediate shredding. He’s just a theater kid at heart.

Difficulty regulating emotions under pressure. This is the kind of thing that would pop up on his worst days (such as being trapped in his destroyed home with a poor connection to his badly damaged physical form while the only help he’s seen in ages ignores his instructions and puts their own safety at risk, or being trapped in a shitty simulation while his only company ignores his instructions and puts their own safety at risk). He’d have to be able to manage this sort of thing better to work well with children, but everyone’s got their bad days. He’s prone to outbursts and tantrums when he’s overwhelmed and unable to stop people from breaking the rules and/or hurting themselves.

People pleasing and nonconfrontational. Yes, HW2 Sun, too. SB Sun seems genuinely desperate to make sure Gregory’s having a good time, and HW2 Sun is shockingly tolerant of some of the player’s bullshit (ex. how he tries to laugh off them shooting darts at him/throwing things). Even calling the player “good friend” when he’s not so happy to see them or threatening them with Moon instead of just telling them their time is almost up seem like signs of this to me. And letting the player make arts and crafts in the ruined daycare in HW2? Yeah, that’s a people pleaser through and through. Sun needs a lesson in setting boundaries (and for those boundaries to actually be respected).

Perfectionistic + “if you want something done right, you’ve gotta do it yourself” attitude. This would mostly manifest in how he completes work tasks, but I think every Sun’s incredibly detail-oriented and would rather do everything themselves just to make sure it’s exactly how they want. This could manifest in lots of ways, from “insulting the staff for how they put things away and telling them to do it again while he supervises” to “politely thanking them for their help and complimenting their hard work only to redo everything himself the moment they’re gone.” I think where on that spectrum you wind up is dependent on the version of Sun you’re interacting with and the environment his personality developed in.

High-energy and social! A given, of course. He never stops moving and everything is always so exciting. New people are friends he hasn’t met yet until proven otherwise.

Love of pranks… to an extent. Again, jester! I stand by my headcanon of Sun and Moon conspiring to convince the staff Moon’s some sort of spooky monster whenever he’s not actively dangerous. As long as he’s not making a mess, breaking the rules, throwing himself off-schedule, or actually hurting anyone? He’s all over it.

Anxiety. This seems like it’s at least partially caused by the lazy daycare reprogramming. All the Suns we’ve encountered seem to lack knowledge of how to actually get children to behave. It seems more like they programmed him with a bunch of games and activities and then set a bunch of super high-priority tasks for him such as “keep kids safe, keep kids happy, keep kids entertained, keep daycare clean” etc. and he’s unable to really prioritize so he’s just constantly overwhelmed.

Kinda always using “childcare voice.” If you know anyone who’s worked with kids, you know what I mean here. Even with adults, he talks to them like kids sometimes, just because it’s what he knows and what he’s used to and because his processor’s fried from however many hours a week he’s surrounded by kids. Consider his reactions to when you eat the crafts as an example. (IMPORTANT NOTE: I don’t think he’d coddle adults like children. It’s more about tone and vocabulary, like “customer service voice”.)

Stickler for rules. He cares about things being done right! The rules are there for a reason! Order is important to him (probably in no small part because it keeps him out of trouble and reduces his stress).

That’s about all I can think of for now, but as someone who writes a very friendly and sweet Sun, I actually don’t think HW2’s characterization was that far off from what I had already assumed based on Ruin/SB. The only difference is that the Sun I’m usually writing is in a much more supportive environment with lots of helpful staff that care about his well-being. If he didn’t have that, I could absolutely see him becoming more like HW2.

I will finish this off with two final important points:

Being an emotional person and liking “childish” things does not make an adult less of an adult.

(He’s a childcare worker, c’mon.)

If someone gets pissed off after being repeatedly antagonized, that does not make them a “mean/bitchy/sassy person.”

(Yeah, he doesn’t handle it gracefully, but to be fair, I wouldn’t either in his shoes.)

Thank you all for reading!!

#fnaf sun #fnaf #fnaf help wanted 2 spoilers #fnaf hw2 #fnaf help wanted 2 #fnaf headcanons #fnaf hcs #hw2 sun #hw2 spoilers #dca sun #sun fnaf #fnaf dca #dca fandom #daycare attendant sun

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bucknastysbabe · 9 months

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Hey look I finished an AU bingo ask! I enjoyed this one so much💖 I felt the brain cooking making up and putting together actual smart people science words. Thanks for the request!

AU bingo - Sci-fi Horror - Aemond Targaryen

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Murder AI Aemond, obsessive/stalking behaviors, TW TW TW: NONCON AND DUBCON. The noncon is not a full scene but warning, non-descript mass murder, scientist!reader, nanotechnology, spaceship setting, somewhere far in the future, pnv!sex, masturbation, Aemond kinda has a mommy kink if you squint and a Bible quote kink lmfao, v!fingering, manipulation, space odyssey gone wrong trope

A/N: No beta I’ll prob come back and fix some shit soon

The ship landed with a faint thud on the green, green exo-planet. You followed Aemond along quietly, meek, fearful, broken. Coming down the unfurled slanted walkway a sweet smell hit your senses. Miles of flowery fields waved, a perfect breathable atmosphere. In the distance, avian-like creatures tittered. A fragment of peace was in your tattered soul.

He hummed softly, gesturing to the beauty.

"God blessed them; and God said to them, ‘Be fruitful and multiply, and fill the earth, and subdue it; and rule over the fish of the sea and over the birds of the sky and over every living thing that moves on the earth.’”

You felt that Aemond was the serpent and remained quiet, breathing in the fresh air. Nothing like home. Maybe you could start anew. The man turned to look, stating, “But we’re God. We have a duty. We shall make this planet everything that Earth has failed to do. Join me, be my Eve will you?” He seemed genuine.

A long fingered hand extended to you. Your gaze flickered between that glowing eye and the outstretched digits. You grabbed his hand, interlacing your fingers. Together, looking upon the horizon you murmured, “Yes, my Adam. You were the greatest creation after all.”

He pecked the stray tear rolling down your cheek, squeezing your palm, lips curling in glee.

It wasn’t meant to end up like that for you. At one point Aemond was your AI. Artificially Enhanced Monitor Of Nanites Directive. Simply installed cameras and layer upon layers of wafer thin circuits loaded with information. Aemond preferred to be referred as he. He was also an arrogant bastard, but helpful as was his intent.

Your coworker Greaves and Aemond did not get along well, the AI criticizing his work. You’d tune them out with plugs or music buds. The scientist laden ship had a destination to a far away mining colony. The general’s plan was to find a way to used nano-technology to replace missing arms, eyes, and other wounds. Time was running thin but the blonde man in cryo-stasis would be your second trial.

The first did not end well. Her body rejected the technology, turning the human into a mindless wreck. Greaves blamed it on you, then General Hightower gave a harsh scolding and upped the time. Aemond consoled you a bit, offering advice. He seemed to take a liking to your banter on the nanotechnology.

He wasn’t the only AI. Other sectors of the ship worked on different but crucial projects such as alien anti-parasitics and ramping up on space suits equipped for defense. Colonization was on the horizon.

Plucking and prodding the little nanites with different stimuli had them snapping and shifting, seeking to find a form. You just needed to code what form they would assume. Aemond’s clipped voice echoed over you. He suggested, “Have you tried printing a molded cast of the man’s eye socket?”

Perching your chin on a shaky hand you smiled, “I swear, it’s always the simplest things I miss. Thank you Aemond.”

“You would have realized soon, want me to begin the scans and print? Likely you need rest, I know the stress of the upped time is draining your bodily function. The brain needs much more sleep, especially one as bright as yours.”

You blushed a bit, fumbling your tweezers. The AI had a certain…courtly way of words. His sort of programming wouldn’t allow for flirtation but it certainly came across like that. Greaves mocked you and the intelligence’s ‘crush’. Greaves always found a way to make you miserable. You did all the major work and he got the accolades.

Shaking yourself out of your thoughts you announced, “You’re right, I’ll go rest for a bit, get back to work with the mold. Thank you again, and engage lockdown protocol so he doesn’t mess up my work like last time.”

“Engaging it now, sleep well Miss.”

You crashed as soon as you reached your quarters, sleeping deeply and sound. Upon awakening and getting dressed you couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. Just chalk it up to your fried nerves. It wasn’t the first time and this was an older ship, ghost stories had gotten to you before.

The mold was in a canister from the printer, you scrubbing up and carefully taking it out. Aemond politely asked, “Did you sleep well? You look refreshed.” Blushing yet again you murmured, “Very much needed, I didn’t realize how exhausted I was.”

“Greaves has been in the mess hall, you will likely get some peace now. Shall we begin?”

The armor folded off your precious lab table, the nanites dormant from no stimuli. Pressing a button you placed the mold into a hatch, sending it up into the chamber. In fluid motions the little bugs covered the new space, feeling and searching before all inserting into the eye socket, glowing a bright blue.

You laughed in glee, “Yes! Yes perfect! Look at that Aemond, they’ve formed a pupil!”

Shining light on the false eye the pupil contracted and flinched, the illusion of eyelids closing. You cheered again in excitement, getting Aemond to video the big jump in success. You could start phase two soon. Just had to deal with your partner.

“Amazing miss, amazing. They took to it well. Shall I send the material to command?”

You grinned and looked up at the camera, “Please! God bless! A miracle!” You’d continue to test the nanite organ until the hiss of the door opening alerted you.

Greaves stumbled in, slurring, “I see you got the jump on me this time. Did the creep robot do it for you? Weird fucking thing.” He leaned against the sterile white wall, grinning with hazy eyes. You frowned and stood up, “That’s his job, to aid us. I’m sure since you work so hard in the mess hall you’ll get your accolades again.”

He squinted at you, arms folding against a chest, “Whas’ your fuckin’ problem with me? You’d rather chat with a bunch of circuits than work with your assigned partner!” His already reddened face darkened, taking another step forward.

Fear laced through your veins. Aemond somehow sneered, “Because you, her lab partner, sold her out on your own mistake. Go to bed, your alcohol content levels are above the limit.” Greaves threw his hands up and hollered, “Oh fuck you!” He stumbled to the switch, you and the AI shutting up when Greaves switched him off.

The bigger man kept stalking closer, eyes on you in an darkened manner. Like a predator closing in on his prey. You squeaked, “Calm down Greaves, I can show you everything!” He hissed, “I already heard everything and the video, bitch! S’bout time someone put you in your place again.”

He snatched your wrist, slamming you against the steel cryo-chamber. You howled in pain, trying to escape. Greaves’ breath stunk of liquor, hot and rank, sweating on your clean skin. He pushed himself on top of you, mumbling frantically, “Maybe you need to get fucked, all that pent up shit from your computer boyfriend.”

You struggled and cursed, “Fuck you! Get off of me! I will report you!” He smirked, “Try me. No cameras with your prince in shining circuits around.” He forced himself between your legs, clumsy drunk hands yanking at your pants. You cried in fear again, kneeing and biting, getting a clock to the head.

Dazedly you remembered the tweezers in your coat. Playing limp had the idiot croon, “Good girl, thats what we want to see.” He shoved his face into your neck, hands prying your lab pants knee height now. Thats when you struck, slowly, slowly, pulling the tweezers from your pocket and jabbing him in the side, hopefully near a lung.

Greaves hollered in pain, breath wheezy and stilted, blood dripping from white cloth. You kicked and removed yourself, stumbling and bumping around in a frenzy as your partner tried to scramble after you. First, you switched on Aemond again. Secondly, you ran out into the hallway, finding the nearest guard, lump on your forehead and clothes torn.

You weren’t sure what happened back in the lab while you were taken into medbay and seen by HR. But after given a small dose of sedatives and care for your head wound, you passed Greaves strapped into a gurney, howling, “Fuck you! Fuck you! He’s gonna kill me! Don’t leave me locked away, please! She’s lying!”

You gaped, unnerved by his fearful warbling and frantic yells. Aemond would be waiting. He probably was worried. When the door hissed open the familiar clipped tone hastily asked, “Are you alright miss? I- I would have helped, sent a warning. I apologize, please, is everything okay?”

You wearily sat on your lab chair, rubbing pounding temples. “To be honest, I don’t know. H-he tried to rape me, said such nasty things, it was all so sudden. But he should go on tribunal about it. For some reason I am glad you missed it.”

“For the best,” he said bitterly, “Why don’t you go rest again? I’ll keep watch over everything. Maybe we can try more tests tomorrow. He’ll get what he deserves.”

An ominous feeling settled over you but off to your personal quarters you went, draining the pills with water. You stared at the ceiling, mind reeling, before emptiness. A bright blue haunted your dreams. Just there. Flexing and dilating. Trying to see through you. Understand.

It was a weary wait for the tribunal. Your research was put on halt and you on mandatory isolation besides meeting with a therapist. There was an order made and interviews occurring. The tedious process of moving someone out of a different department to assist you.

So it was just you. Aemond too. He wasn’t much of a talkative AI as of late, short responses and antagonizing little ‘hms’ or ‘very well miss.’ You began to ignore the effervescent blue light, him doing the same. You knew he was watching, that little burn in the back of your head.

In the meantime you read your Bible, did yoga, wearily watched the port window, occasionally would go into the lab to stare at your halted work. You pulled open the container for the cryochamber, staring down at the frozen man. He had a handsome face, chiseled and lean, long nose, sharp jaw.

Your eyes lingered down his rangy form, this man obviously was athletic of sorts. Or maybe a simple nobody, just managed to get into the program after what happened to his eye. Between his long legs laid his soft cock, you stared for a second too long before-

“Is that not inappropriate?”

Startled, you whipped around to see Aemond’s blue light in your face. You snapped, “It was purely medical!” His laugh, raspy and grating, echoed in the white lab. You frowned and returned to your room, slapping the button for the door to hiss shut.

You’d go take a shower, blood heated from anger and…something else. Under the hot stream of water you imagined the gorgeous subject with that familiar blue, caressing and stroking your overwhelmed body. It had been too long, your hand awkwardly jerking between your swollen lips until you came with a stifled grunt.

Afterward you felt exposed and paranoid, like Aemond could pry into the bathroom, chuckling at your obvious behavior. But there wasn’t any cameras in that bathroom…that you were aware of. Sitting on your bed, guilt rose up your back. You’d pray.

More time passed before you were selected to testify for the tribunal. Greaves’ crew made a good argument that Aemond and you planned on his downfall. He claimed that the AI had gone wrong somewhere, developed the notion it could possess feelings, how he had been threatened.

Shakily you testified that Aemond was forced off and the board could check, then how you’d been forced upon without consent. They tried to cross-examine but you held strong. Teary by the end, they moved on and you sat by your appointed admiral. She rubbed your shoulders.

Greaves was sentenced to hard labor, and would remain in isolation on the ship until reaching the mining colony, where he would serve out the sentence. They appointed, sadly, another male to fill your exiled partner’s position.

But you could get back to work.

Aemond was in a right mood when you returned to the lab. Questioning you sharply on what occurred, where Greaves’ would go, did you get a new partner. You answered them all, rubbing your temples, the AI could be quite intense.

“Aemond!,” you snapped.

“What miss?”

“Are you trying to induce a panic attack? Greaves is in the bottom of the ship, I’m back to work, and they have a man named Herron coming from robotics to fill in.”

“Another male? All things considered? It’s obvious you and I could get the job done.”

You sighed, “I know. But it’s what they said. Do you just want to run some stimuli tests?”

He agreed, seemingly placated by the offer, blue light flexing. The pair of you would work on the mold’s ability to sense and perceive, how well would the nanites adapt to the brain. Your eyes grew droopy after awhile, Aemond humming, “Why don’t you go to bed?” Nodding blearily, you stumbled off to the adjacent bedroom, completely forgetting to put on any of the safety precautions for the night.

While you slept deeply, Aemond had some things to do. Everything was open for his command, including the nanites and subject. He had a great plan, and it would not fail. First he needed to go pay a visit to Greaves, infiltrating the entire AI system. Poor miss, she was so tired, forgot everything. Wonderful little creature. He’d help.

Feeling refreshed in the morning, you dragged yourself to the mess hall, receiving stares upon stares. You grabbed a salad and finally gathered the courage to ask, “What happened?” A female scientist from anti-parasitic whispered dramatically, “How do you not know? Greaves was murdered? All of the oxygen was depleted from his cell.” Your stomach fell, head going swimmy.

Stumbling up from the bench, ignoring your food, heart beating faster and faster, you crashed into the lab. Your voice cracked when you shouted, “Aemond!” His voice returned, but from a different place, a different body. The blue eye shone and twinkled at you, fine lips curling upward.

“You should be thanking me, miss,” the AI standing in the subject’s body said.

It went black. Too much.

Thrashing awake, big hands held you down, long legs caging your own in. The handsome face, long blonde hair tickled your skin, fucking Aemond! “What did you do? What have you done? Aemond!,” you cried. He shushed and cooed with that devious smirk, holding you still until the panic turned to resignation. He swiped a stray tear from your eye.

“Be still and know that I am God,” he sighed.

You grew fearful again, the fact that he knew you owned a Bible and just recited it to your face said too much. How much had he seen. Aemond grew more comfortable atop of you, stroking your hair. He cocked his head and stated, “I know everything about you. You’re all that I need, truly. The perfect human.”

You wanted to spit in his face, but the petting and warmth was getting to that part of you that craved the attention, the fact you’d been in the shadows all your life. But he was a murderer— the rational part of your brain howled. Instead came out a warbling, “Me? Perfect?“

Aemond drew his new face closer, drawing a spindly finger down from your chin to chest. “I’ve been on this ship a long time, and no one has spoken to me like you. Not since my creator. She’s gone. But you have captured me, ensnared me somehow.”

One of your legs slipped round his long ones, suddenly overwhelmed with need. All you’d ever wanted was to be seen. He cooed, “I see you lamb, my eve.” More tears leaked down your cheeks as you pled, “Kiss me, see me then, y-you snake.”

A sharp grin erupted on his sharp features before pulling you in with a kiss, both of you unexperienced, a big hand stabilizing your head. You tilted his head for ease of access, a sloppy gnashing of teeth and tongue, lips bruising from the sheer yearning. Aemond moaned deeply, “I see- hah- how you humans love touch so much.”

Your now free hands moved to where they liked, one in silky white-blonde strands, the other just feeling toned shoulders and back. The pair of you had your lip lock grow more attuned, no less passionate, but gliding across each other. You pled again, “Clothes, help, Aemond!” He sat back on his haunches, shivering as his long stiff cock slapped tight belly.

You shucked off your top and bra, him jerking down your bottoms to leave you all to his view. Aemond already had been bare, no clothes were prepared for the subject yet. He inhaled sharply, hands slowly moving down your heaving form, studying ridges and curves, sliding warm fingers between puffy folds. You cried out at that, spasming at the eager expression in return.

Aemond let out a small ‘Hm’ and slid his longest digits into your dripping hole, immediately curling inwards and upwards to drag against sensitive walls. Very, very sensitive walls. Back arched and mouth agape you rolled your hips and whined his name. The man rambled loosely, transfixed, “Having a data bank is quite helpful but nothing comes to this, my Eve.”

He slipped a third finger in, using a calloused thumb to slid around your swollen clit, making you cry louder and writhe under pleasure. He watched ravenously, drinking you in when your peak hit. Gushing onto his pale hand and screeching like a creature, you reached Nirvana for what felt like minutes.

You cried again when his sheathed himself inside of you, no warning, both of you moaning and grunting like animals. The sensitive skin guarding your cunt was ripped now, bleeding, but the fullness of his cock was a ripe distraction. Aemond seemed to be overwhelmed by the sensation, sucking in breath, eyes wide, “For I have seen God face to face, and yet my life has been delivered.”

He plastered toned body against your own, moaning gutturally when you wrapped your arms and legs around his larger frame. “Oh- oh- fucking hell- this!” The blonde groaned lowly, nipping your throat, hands bruisingly placed on your waist as he snapped into your slick cunt.

The blunt tip of his cock stirred up familiar feelings of pleasure, tightening and knotting your lower belly. You heaved, “Don’t stop!” A drop of sweat hit your mouth, you licking the salty taste off. So close to human yet not. Yet not. Yet not not not.

A pinch to your oversensitive clit and a batter from his cock sent you into another crest, holding to Aemond for dear life. He moaned your name and white hot spend covered your mound and belly. He kissed your forehead and wiped away the spend with your discarded top, breathing. You sat up a bit and asked, “Where do you go from here? They cannot know?”

Aemond got up, long stride beating your clumsy foal-like stumbling. He stated, “They won’t know my love.” Your own door shut and locked behind his retreating frame. You managed to reach it and beat on the durasteel, crying, “Aemond! Aemond come back! Stop! What are you doing!”

Oh how you’d been fooled.

Oh how you were weak.

Oh how you were just a human pawn when the alarms went off and you watched the bodies float out of the ship, silently screaming and dying as their blood boiled in the vacuum of space.

He returned later, now dressed in the immaculate garb of a commander, hair neatly swept back, eye sparkling. You remained naked and felt like a mouse under his imperious gaze. All energy was gone, you’d cried it out. Aemond strode towards you, boots clicking. He knelt to grab you chin, face tilting to study you. He’d never truly understand the complexities of human emotion, no matter how human he may appear.

Aemond sighed, “I did this for you, for us, those people do not matter. Earth and it’s people are dying. We begin anew. My perfect Eve,” he kissed your swollen lips. “You’ll see. Just wait, I brought you some nicer clothes, have them on.”

The man stood up and gently laid down female commander’s garb, before kneeling to you.

“I know this isn’t registering in your human, wonderfully human, brain, but it’ll make sense later on. I’ve already found a beautiful planet. Not too much longer now. Put on the clothes and meet me on the bridge.”

So you did. What other choice was there.

Twisted though he may be, the AI was never horrid to you. Maybe to others, not you. On the comfortable jacket, pants, and boots went. You tried not to cry any more restyling your hair. Most likely he’d coddle and ‘Hm’ condescendingly.

You laughed maniacally as the thought popped up, “Hey! At least my project was successful!”

#heed the tags #hotd fanfic #aemond smut #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen x reader #sci-fi horror au #aemond targaryen smut

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alpaca-clouds · 2 years

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Let's Talk Combat: Medieval European Swords

Alright. Let me try something.

As a writer - and a person - am a huge combat nerd. That is: Historical combat. I don't care much for modern guns. As such it is one of my personal hobbies, to watch movies and series featuring historical fights and battles and get annoyed about everything they get wrong.

So, let me have this. A little overview of Medieval European swords - and what they were used for.

Now, this is going to be mostly about just the swords and what they were used for. If you like this kind of stuff, I might go into other historical weapons or fighting styles.

One thing to start with: If you think that swords were super heavy and that a woman could not lift them, you are wrong. Most swords weighted between 800 grams and 2kg (which is 1.7 to 4.4 pounds). You have to see that people early on found ways to make swords lighter, because otherwise the arms would tire rather quickly, no matter your gender.

I also want to remind you of another thing: Swords where for most of history not the combat weapon of choice. In Europe it was the spear, pike and other kinds of polearms as they kept some distance between you and an enemy combatant. Swords were mostly carried as a sidearm. (And I just want to see one medieval fantasy, where it is displayed like this.)

So, let's start with the basic anatomy of a sword, shall we?

Most medieval swords were structired in this way, though there might be little differences. For example not all swords had a point and not all swords had two sharp edges.

Now, to explain some of the parts. I am rather sure the place, the point and the edge are fairly self-explanatory. The fuller was a little trick weapon smiths had found for themselves. It took care of two things: For one it took away material, making the sword considerably lighter. But also it added structure and made the sword more rigorous than it otherwise mght have been. The ricasso was the area of the sword, where you might put your index finger while fighting. The cross-guard was used to parry other swords. For once it protected your hand, when you caught your opponents sword with your own blade, but you could also use it as a lever and try to disarm your enemy. Now when it comes to the rain-guard there is this thing: Historians are not 100% certain, what it did. It was made of leather. One common assumption is, that it did not serve combat, but instead was used to help the sword lock into the scabbard.

Now let's get to the most underrated part of the sword in fantasy combat: The heft and the pommel. The grip/heft was, of course, where your hand would've been. It also helped you to have a lever in combat. Often times leather was used on it to give you a better hold. (Try holding a metal heft when it is wet. And I do have to asume it would only be worse if it was wet with blood.) The pommel served two functions: For once it was a counter weight to the blade, but also it could be used as a blunt weapon.

Let's start with the sword that was apparently the most common at the time. Not only is it the sword we see most often depicted in medieval art, but it is also the sword we found most often. It tends to be just called a "Knight's Sword".

It's a one handed weapon, that tended to be 70 to 80cm in length (about 28 to 31 inches) and would typically weight about 1kg (give or take 100 grams). It would generally have two sharp edges and a somewhat sharp point. It is what people would've thought of, if you said "sword" in the times. The cross guard in this was often in a slight crescent shape, as you see above, but there were those with straight cross-guards as well. In general they came with a point - but they were slashing weapons first and foremost. Knights might actually have engravings in the fuller. Rarely their own name, rather names of saints or the like.

This is a longsword. As you can see by the elongated grip, it was in general used as a two-handed weapon. Other than popular belief they were not super heavy - in general 1.1-1.8kg (2.4-4lb) to a blade length of 1 meter, give or take, giving it a total length to about 1.2~1.3m. I first hold one of those when I was about 13 and was perfectly able to use it. The French name for this type of weapon is épée bâtarde, which is where we get the term bastard sword from. This weapon, too, had two sharp edges. In general these had a sharp point, not only for attack, but also to balance the blade better.

Now one that might surprise you. This is a backsword, also called broadsword. No, it does not look anything like fantasy broadswords, because those would actually have been too heavy to fight with. It had a broader lower blade compared with a knight's sword, but it's most noticable difference to other sword types was the protective guard that secured the hand of the wielder. It was a one-handed weapon. It had at times two sharp edges, but often only one. For the most part it was a thrusting weapon though, so it had a rather sharp tip. Near the tip both edges were sharpened.

Let's get to one of the most overrated blades in fantasy. The Falchion. It had a curved blade and only one sharp edge. We often see them depicted with a knuckle-guard, but they were not always made with those. Why do I call this weapon overrated? Because it was the poor man's sword. It was often rather simply made, for example not using a fuller, making it less balanced. Mostly it was used by foot-soldiers. Only few of those weapons survived. Yes, it looks fancy thanks to the curved blade, but in general your knight's sword was just a better blade.

The estoc is another sword with a real fancy name. But other than the Falchion it had a rather prominent use. As you can see it has a rather long and rather thin blade and a really sharp point. We have found estocs with a large range of blade lengths though, ranging from 90cm (36 inches) to 1.30 (50 inches). This weapon was made for a very special usecase: It was a weapon designed to be effective against chainmail, made to pierce the chainmail especially. As such it was mostly a thrusting weapon.

Okay, we are nearing the end. The Zweihänder (German for Two-Handed) is a sword that came up very late in the medieval period. As the name suggests: It was wielded with two hands. They are the most heavy and one of the longest weapons on this list: Often they had a total length of about 2 meters (80+ inches) and weighted from 2 to 4kgs (4.4 to 8.8 pounds). Now, they were in general not a weapon used by armies, but rather by merchenaries of Southern Germany and Switzerland. In general they had two sharp edges, a really broad cross-guard and often times an second guard - though this one had sharp edges. In some cases they also had a seraded blade on one or both side (as seen in the picture above). Now, what was the purpose of all that? Well, rather simple. As I mentioned above: pole weapons like spears and pikes were more common in the period than swords. So Zweihander were specifically created to counter pikes and other pole weapons.

Now, at the very end I want to speak about this "weapon", the Curtana (Curtana, not Katana), which I came across being used as an actual weapon in video games - especially JRPG. Now, let's just make this clear: The curtana was not a weapon. Rather it was a sword used for ceremonial purposes and ceremonial purposes only. They often had decorated blades and were not balanced at all. Because they were created to look fancy, not to be wielded in combat.

Alright, that's it for today.

As I said: If interest is there, I will absolutely write more about swords, combat and such things. Also about pole weapons, because we need more love for pole weapons!

Till then!

#sword #medieval #middle ages #combat #close combat #weapons #blades #historical #fantasy #high fantasy #lord of the rings #the witcher #castlevania #excalibur

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themirokai · 2 years

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More Matthew the Emotional Support Raven? Don’t mind if I do! @mashumaru sent me this cute raven video, for which I am very grateful. She had tagged it Hob & Matthew (which totally tracks) but wanted to know if I could do a Dream & Matthew story with it. And I did! But it got a teensy tinsy bit angsty. Don’t worry, it ends as fluffy as the rest of these ficlets.

There is one small detail from my “Shiny Things” ficlet in here. That one isn’t required reading but I do hope you’ll check it out if you haven’t already.

Huge thanks to the wonderful @argylepiratewd who has proofreading commissions open now! WD made this story so much better and they can do the same for your work. I highly recommend them for all your proofreading needs. Info here, check it out!

Matthew hopped along beside Lord Morpheus as he strode through the Palace of the Dreaming.

“So, we’re leaving now?”

“We are not going anywhere, Matthew,” Lord Morpheus said from under his helm. “You are to remain in the Dreaming.”

“What?!” Matthew stopped, then had to fly a few feet to catch up. “If you’re not staying in the Dreaming, then I’m not staying in the Dreaming.”

“I frequently travel to the waking world without you.”

“Yeah, to see your boyfriend, who I still haven’t met! And I know you’re not going for a hanky-panky session because you’re all suited up!”

Lord Morpheus halted in his tracks and turned slowly to face Matthew. “A ‘hanky-panky session’?”

Matthew was not about to let himself be sidetracked. “A date! A romantic tryst! Whatever! You’re not doing that because you’ve got all the finery and the spine mask!” He gestured with his wing to encompass the flowing black robe, the folds of which seemed structurally impossible. He noted with a little flare of pride that Lord Morpheus was wearing the sapphire Matthew had given him.

Lord Morpheus sighed and went down on one knee, just as he had the first night Matthew had met him. He reached up to remove the helm and tucked it under his arm.

“I am going to Faerie, Matthew. I do not need you to accompany me, nor do I wish it.”

Matthew shifted from foot to foot and dropped his head, looking up at Lord Morpheus out of the corner of his eye. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No.” Lord Morpheus chuckled and ran a finger over Matthew’s beak. “You have done nothing wrong. It is simply that this journey would not be safe for you.”

“If it’s not safe, then all the more reason for me to come with you!” Matthew exploded with an unintentional flap of his wings.

“Matthew—”

“Boss, I’ve been with you to literal Hell for you to fight literal Lucifer!”

“Yes,” Lord Morpheus said, with a small smile as he stroked Matthew’s beak again, “but when we went to Hell I was not at my full strength, and there was much more jeopardy to me than there was to you.”

Matthew cocked his head. “Why would I be in jeopardy? Do faeries hate birds or something?”

“The Faerie Court functions on a set of incredibly strict rules, Matthew. Failure to follow the rules to the exact letter can result in one’s bound servitude, imprisonment, or death.”

Matthew involuntarily ruffled his feathers.

“And you, my raven,” Lord Morpheus continued with a gentle tap to Matthew’s beak, “have many strengths, but adherence to rules is not among them.”

“But—”

Lord Morpheus stood and put the helm back on. “I shall return in a few days, Matthew. You will help Lucienne keep an eye on things in the Dreaming for me while I am away.” He reached inside his robe for a handful of sand.

Matthew couldn’t just let him go—not if he was only going alone because he thought Matthew couldn’t behave himself. With a flap of his wings, and before he could second guess himself, Matthew leapt and attached his beak to the index finger of Lord Morpheus’s free hand. He gripped hard enough to hang from the finger, but not hard enough to hurt. He hoped. He wasn’t even sure if Lord Morpheus could be hurt in the Dreaming.

Slowly, Lord Morpheus raised his hand to bring the dangling Matthew up to his eye level.

“You realize that you are rather spectacularly proving my point, Matthew?”

“I hro’is I ‘e ‘oo’,” Matthew tried to pronounce around the finger.

Lord Morpheus brought his other hand up and wrapped it around Matthew’s body, pinning his wings in place. He gave a firm tug, and Matthew released his finger.

“Boss, I promise I’ll do whatever you say. I’ll follow the rules! Please, just don’t go alone.”

Lord Morpheus took a breath, and the temperature dropped by several degrees. “Matthew,” he said, voice reverberating more than usual, “I realize that when you first met me I was in an extremely vulnerable position. But I would remind you that I am older than the stars in the sky and infinitely more powerful. Such vulnerability was an aberration that shall not happen again. This means that if I tell you that I require that you stay in the Dreaming, then you shall stay in the Dreaming. Am I understood?”

Matthew bowed his head, worry and guilt twisting his guts. “Yes, sir,” he murmured. “I’m sorry I overstepped.”

Lord Morpheus stooped to put him down and drew a handful of sand from inside his robe as he straightened. “I shall return in a few days’ time.”

With that, the sand swirled around him, and he was gone.

“Lucienne, when you were a raven, did you ever go to Faerie with Lord Morpheus?”

“Hm. Yes, a few times, I think.” She continued arranging books on shelves without looking at him.

“And perfect Jessamy? She must have gone a bunch.”

“Yes, of course. Why are you—oh.” Lucienne turned to him. “He didn’t take you.”

“And he was being nice about it and then I was an idiot and grabbed onto his finger as he was leaving like a—like a—god, I don’t know. Like a fucking toddler or something!” Matthew felt his wings open in his agitation. “And he got pissed because anyone would but it’s him. I am such a fucking idiot.”

Matthew threw himself down on the floor on his side and Lucienne crouched beside him.

“How did you grab his finger?” she asked.

“In my beak.” Matthew brought a wing up to cover his face. “Like a fucking idiot.”

He heard a strangled sound and moved his wing to see Lucienne trying to stifle her laughter.

“It’s not funny! He’s going to unmake me!”

“I’m sure it wasn’t that bad, Matthew,” she said, kindly.

“It was so bad. Lucienne, I’m a failure as a raven. Just like I was a failure as a person.”

“Enough of that,” she said, standing. “Come on, get off the floor.”

Matthew groaned and covered his face with his wing again. “Maybe I can just sink into the wood and become part of the library.”

“Matthew,” Lucienne said sternly, “get up. Now.”

With an aggrieved sigh, Matthew hauled himself to his feet. She patted the back of a chair beside her, and with another sigh, Matthew flew up to it, so that he was nearly level with her eyes.

“You are not a failure as a raven,” she said, looking at him over the rim of her glasses. “You are a modern raven, and you are the raven he needs now.”

“But he can’t even take me out of the realm because I’d apparently be a danger to myself!”

“He can’t take you to Faerie, but truly, he doesn’t need you there. He was concerned about your ability to adhere to all the rules, correct?” On Matthew’s nod, she continued. “Do you know who is better than anyone in this or any other universe at following rules?”

“Lord Morpheus,” Matthew muttered.

“That’s correct. He has had good relations with the King and Queen of Faerie for millennia. He really is not in any danger on this trip.”

Matthew searched her face for sincerity and found it. If Lucienne wasn’t worried, he knew he didn’t need to be. Matthew took a deep breath and nodded.

“Matthew, Lord Morpheus does not need a raven who can follow the strictures of Faerie at this point in his immensely long life. He needs a raven who can help him understand modern humanity. He was disconnected from the collective unconscious for over a century. He is out of touch, and he knows it. He’s gotten better in the time he’s been back, but he still needs assistance. He still needs you.”

“As long as he doesn’t unmake me for biting him,” Matthew grumbled.

Lucienne rolled her eyes. “You didn’t bite him,” she admonished. “You tried to hold on to him. It was certainly foolish, but Lord Morpheus has spent enough millennia in the company of ravens to see the difference clearly.”

Some of the worry began to fade from Matthew’s chest.

“He knows you love him, Matthew. And he cares for you, too.”

Matthew gave a long exhale and thought of hours spent getting his feathers stroked. “Yeah…yeah, I guess.”

Matthew was flying laps around the outside of the palace when his ears popped with a change in the barometric pressure. Lord Morpheus had returned to the Dreaming. The gravitational pull was immediate, but Matthew stopped himself from following it. He knew what Lucienne had said, but he still wasn’t sure what kind of reception he would get. Before he could dwell on the subject, an unmistakable voice sounded in his head.

“Matthew. Attend me.”

At least that was one decision he didn’t have to make. Matthew wheeled in the air, and rode the current of the Dreaming to Lord Morpheus.

He found the King of Dreams seated on his throne. Matthew landed a few steps down from the top of the dais. He spread his wings and bowed.

“My lord.”

“That has never been necessary, Matthew, nor is it now.”

Matthew ducked his head. “Thank you.” He took a breath and looked up. “I’m really sorry. About before you left. I was way out of line. I get that, and I want you to know it won’t happen again.”

“I know that, Matthew. Jessamy was my raven for hundreds of years, as was Lucienne. You and I are still learning each other.”

Lord Morpheus extended his hand, inviting Matthew to perch.

“Come, Matthew.”

Matthew landed with a few wing flaps. From his other hand, Lord Morpheus produced a loop of silver chain, about the size of a bracelet. The chain was intricately braided and sparkled in the shifting light of the throne room.

“It’s beautiful,” Matthew breathed.

“I traded a dream for it in Faerie. It is for you.” Lord Morpheus slipped the chain over Matthew’s head so that it sat around his neck.

“Oh, Boss, thank you! I love it!”

“It should be small enough to hide under your feathers when you are in the waking world.”

“Or I could make all the lady ravens swoon!” Matthew said, tilting his head to admire the silver against the black feathers of his chest.

Lord Morpheus chuckled as he stood. “Come, Matthew,” he said, transferring the raven to his shoulder, “we have work to do.”

“Yes, Boss!” Matthew cawed happily.

~~~~

UPDATE: This story has art now!

The detail of Morpheus bringing Matthew a gift came from @wyvernquill 's tags on this awesome art they did of the “Shiny Things” Emotional Support Raven ficlet.

Master Post of Matthew the Emotional Support Raven Ficlets.

As of posting, I am out of raven prompts. Have you seen a picture or a video of a raven? If you send it to me, I will use it to write a ficlet!

#matthew the emotional support raven #matthew the raven #dream of the endless #the sandman #the sandman netflix #lucienne #miro does sandman #mirokai writes

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hardly-an-escape · 1 year

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Headache (ch. 2)

Square: C1 - Djinn Rating: T Word Count: 2229 Ship(s): Dream of the Endless | Morpheus/Hob Gadling Warnings: No archive warnings apply Additional Tags: Dreamling Bingo fill, fragile, domaystic2023, bath, sick fic, migraines, unfortunately I must inflict my own suffering on fictional characters, Dream of the Endless is a good friend, it’s totally normal to draw a bath for your friend and ogle him a little while he strips in front of you, and sit chatting while he’s fully naked in the bath, right? right??, pre-slash Additional additional tags: djinn, crisis, first kiss, getting together, the pining is mutual they’re just idiots Summary: Hob has a migraine. Dream has a revelation. Read on AO3 | fill for @dreamlingbingo | fill for @domaystic day 12: crisis

“Mate, I spent the first thirty years of my life either living in a one room hut or on the road with a band of soldiers. There’s a very short list of things I haven’t done in front of someone else, and bathing isn’t on it.”

now featuring chapter two!

Dream tells a story. Hob tells the truth.

Hob is having a crisis.

Just a little one. Just a small, inconsequential crisis.

Just a niggling, little, unimportant, earth-shattering crisis. Because he’s naked. In the bathtub. In a bath Dream had prepared for him.

In a bath Dream, with whom he’s been quietly and desperately in love with for centuries, had drawn and scented and tested the temperature of with his long, elegant fingers. For Hob.

And his head hurts so badly he wants to take a melon baller to his own brain. Christ, he’s going to die. This is going to be the thing that finally does him in: an invisible jackhammer going to town behind his left eyesocket so powerfully that he can’t even properly enjoy the fact that he’s lying naked an arm’s length from Dream of the Endless.

He swallows.

“Would you mind?” he asks, and his voice sounds horribly rough and pathetic to his own ears. “Just staying and… talking? Just for a little while. I wasn’t kidding when I said your voice was helping.”

That much, at least, is true. He’s noticed it before, when they’ve met on evenings when he had occasion to be particularly tired, or tense, or stressed.

“Of course,” says Dream. “Of course I will.”

“Thank you, my friend.”

“Of what shall I speak?”

“Dealer’s choice. Tell me a story. Something I haven’t heard before.”

“The breadth of your experience is so wide as to make that a true challenge,” says Dream softly. “But I will do my best.”

Hob doesn’t know why – whether it’s some side effect of Dream’s function, or simply the timbre of a deep and gentle voice hitting some perfect frequency – but it does help. He can feel the sharpest throbbing start to subside and the muscles in his jaw and temples loosen as Dream’s voice fills the small room, never loud but always commanding, vibrations bouncing from tile to water to rug.

(Under the circumstances, Dream’s voice also has the side effect of raising Hob’s heart rate somewhat, which he supposes might cancel out some of the calming benefits. But it’s worth it.)

Dream tells the story of Fiddler’s Green, the afterlife of perpetual mirth, music, and dancing; of the sailers who’d dreamt him into being and how he’d found a place both in the Dreaming and in the Waking World. He describes the peace of a weary traveler’s rest. The homecoming to a meadow of surpassing beauty, the perfect breeze, the mix of sun and shade playing across the grass. The scent of flowers: of sweetgrass and honeysuckle – and lavender.

His tale trails to an end and Hob cracks one eye, risks a glance at Dream. The low light and the moisture in the air give the impression that they are wreathed in steam. His straight back and hooded gaze put Hob in mind of some fey creature, a changeling or a djinn.

It’s an idle thought, and he doesn’t realize he’s spoken it aloud until one side of Dream’s mouth lifts in a little smirk.

“Even knowing me as you do now, you try to fit me into your human pantheon of the supernatural?”

Hob snorts gently.

“You have to admit, the similarities are there. They say the djinn could do everything a human can. Eat, drink, sleep –” love, he does not say “– but also change their shape and turn invisible. If the shoe fits…” he shrugs.

“It is possible that my function has inspired certain human myths over the centuries,” Dream allows. “How is your headache?”

Hob pushes his hair back from his forehead, sending scented water rippling across the surface of the tub, and rubs at his temples.

“Still pretty bad. But the pills are starting to kick in.”

“Would another tale be helpful?”

“If you’re offering.”

“I am.”

“In that case, tell on, Scheherezade.”

Dream smirks again.

“I will refrain from commenting on the fact that you have cast me in the role of your concubine,” he says.

Hob immediately feels his face heat.

“I didn’t – I just meant in the sense that you’re the storyteller. Fuck. Told you my brain isn’t working,” he mumbles.

“Peace, my friend,” says Dream, still smiling slightly. “I am not offended.”

He launches into another story, something about faeries and Queen Titania. Hob sinks lower into the bath, cheeks still warm with embarrassment. He is only half-listening to Dream’s story as his mind swirls around the room like the oil in his bath, chasing unformed thoughts and images on the tails of Dream’s voice.

Part of him is back in the Victorian Turkish baths of the 1800s, swathed in snow-white towels, reclining next to Dream and chatting idly in the cooling-room. Part of him is in the gallery of an Elizabethan theatre, watching A Midsummer Night’s Dream for the first time, throat tight despite the laughter of the crowd around him. And part of him again is lying back on thick Persian carpets in the hushed interior of a desert tent, while a bejeweled princeling Dream weaves tales out of sand and smoke, illustrating them in the air with an elegant twist of a slender arm…

It is a good thing, he slowly realizes, that the water is cool and that most of his blood is currently engaged in coloring his face and neck. It is even a good thing, he thinks, that his head, although improving, is still pounding relentlessly against the inside of his skull. He is, suddenly, almost grateful for the pain and the embarrassment, for the simple reason that he’s already about a quarter of the way toward getting one of the more humiliating erections of his life, and he suspects the headache and the shame are the only things standing in the way of his prick becoming far too involved in what’s currently happening in his bathroom.

Hob clenches his fists under the water and wrenches his mind back to Dream’s narration. He won’t get a hard-on because his best and oldest friend has drawn him a bath and is telling him a tale. He won’t. He simply will not.

He does, of course.

Dream’s second story winds to a conclusion and they sit in comfortable silence for a few minutes. Well, Dream seems comfortable, at least; Hob’s stomach has tied itself into knots and his prick simply refuses to calm down and he’s pretty sure he’s started sweating despite the cool water.

“Well, mate,” he says, trying for a casual tone that actually comes out sounding a little strangled. “Thanks again for the bath. And the stories. I, uh. I’m going to get out now. I guess. If you wouldn’t mind…?”

“You wish for privacy now?” Dream asks.

“Well. I need to…” he gestures inelegantly at the toilet where Dream is still perched. “So. Yeah.”

“Ah. I understand.” He rises smoothly. Every movement he makes is smooth, thinks Hob, watching and wanting helplessly as Dream brushes his hands perfunctorily down his long legs and turns toward the door. “Shall I make a cup of tea?”

“That would be marvelous, thank you,” Hob croaks.

Dream leaves the bathroom. The door shuts behind him.

Hob sighs gustily and buries his face in his hands. He can’t have a wank. He cannot. There simply isn’t enough time, while Dream is making a cup of tea, standing in the kitchen down the hall as if he belongs there; and besides, Hob isn’t quite that kind of asshole, not yet, not even after 600-odd years.

He sighs again. Pulls the plug, stands up in the bathtub and wastes a good minute watching the water swirl down the drain. He turns on the shower, shoves the faucet over to cold, full blast, and tells himself he’s rinsing the lavender oil off his skin as he stands in the spray for another minute or so. His head pounds and he screams internally and wills his erection down.

It works, more or less, between the frigid water and the fact that Dream is now out of his immediate line of sight. He dries himself, pulls his underwear and jeans back on, clinging to still-damp skin; belatedly remembers to flush the toilet in order to maintain the veneer of the necessity of privacy.

He washes his hands and stares himself down in the mirror.

“You’re going back out there,” he murmurs, “and you’re going to be totally normal. Completely, utterly, totally normal. Got that?”

His reflection, unfortunately, does not respond. It does manage to look far less normal than Hob might have hoped. It’ll have to do.

He puts on his shirt and buttons it as he pads down the hallway to the kitchen, where the water is just starting to boil. Dream is standing at the counter, watching the electric kettle closely as it starts to puff and steam, and Hob has to lay a hand on his shoulder in order to reach around him and fetch two mugs off the cup hooks. Dream is cool to the touch, even through his shirt, and Hob makes a concerted effort not to think about the surprisingly solid muscle under that brief contact.

Hob’s kitchen table is small, and tucked into a corner, so they sit at right angles with each other, close enough that their knees could knock together under the table if Hob were only brave enough to do so. Instead he crosses his legs, hunching in on himself, wrapping his hands around his mug. It’s just slightly too hot, but welcome after the cool bath and the cooler shower.

“Hob, I must.” Dream – clears his throat? For a moment, Hob thinks he’s hearing things; Dream sounds almost uncertain. Like he’s groping for the lightswitch in a dark room. “I must tell you the truth. My presence here today. My… care for you. Was not entirely altruistic.”

Hob, for lack of anything better to do, blows across the surface of his tea. Takes a careful sip.

“Okay?” he says.

He straightens up and hopes very much that his voice is kind, and gentle, and inviting, and that none of the adrenalin suddenly flooding his veins is leaking into his vocal cords.

“Of late I have found myself… drawn to you. To your company, to your voice, to your –” he swears he can hear Dream swallow “– your body. In a manner that is, shall I say… not. Quite. Platonic.”

Dream is staring into his mug of tea. He has barely ever spoken a word that didn’t sound like it was carved from stone, but this – this sounds like it’s being dragged out of the deepest part of his throat, thrown into the light like deep sea creatures caught in a trawler’s net. Unused to the surface and slightly shocking in their presence.

Hob’s brain throbs again behind his left eyesocket, reminding him forcibly of its existence. Several seconds go by before he trusts himself enough to speak.

“So… you’re saying… what? You’re attracted to me? You want to be… more than just friends?”

“I value your friendship more than anyone I have ever known. I would not lose it again for the world,” Dream says into his mug, and Hob thinks he detects the tiniest hint of panic in his voice. “But… yes. I would. Change it. Add to it. If such a change would be acceptable to you.”

He looks up, finally; casts those unfairly blue eyes at Hob through the dark curtain of his lashes, and any uncertainty Hob might have felt dissolves, gone, as simply and easily as his heart had gone, centuries ago.

“Acceptable.” He snorts gently. Sets his mug carefully down. “Acceptable?” Hauls his chair around the corner of the table and Dream makes a surprised noise and his hands fly to Hob’s shoulders as their knees tangle together and the table digs into Hob’s side as he pulls Dream into his arms and his head hurts and it’s – perfect. It’s perfect.

“Jesus Christ,” he whispers into Dream’s neck. “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. Acceptable. I haven’t felt platonic about you since the Norman Conquest, you numpty, you think I’m going to –”

He is interrupted by Dream’s fingers winding themselves gently into the soft hairs at the nape of his neck, still damp from the bath.

“You were not yet born when William the Conqueror set foot on English soil.”

“Fuck off, you know what I mean.”

He kisses his way up Dream’s neck, from the join of his shoulder to the corner of his jaw, and then along that stiff, proud jawbone to claim his plush and pliant mouth, finally, a private conquest centuries in the making.

“I have been in love with you for literal, actual, centuries,” he says in between kisses. “And as soon as my fucking head stops hurting I’m going to prove it to you. In every way I possibly can.”

Dream rears back, face stricken.

“Your headache. Hob, I apologize. I –”

“Shut up,” he says into the heated space between them. “I’m taking another paracetamol, and then I’m going to bed, and you’re coming with me. And I’m going to cuddle the fuck out of you. And we’re going to talk. Whether you like it or not.”

“I would like it,” Dream says, and he sounds as dazed as Hob feels.

“Good.”

Another kiss.

A thousand daydreams collapse into dust when paired against the reality of Dream in his arms and against his lips.

“Good.”

[Read on AO3]

green = complete, orange = WIP

#dreamling #dreamling bingo #dreamlingweek2023 #domaystic2023 #my writing #it's too fucking late at night and this is unedited but it's DONE and I'm going to BED

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rambling-addict · 2 years

Text

Okay… I waited ‘til they released the post-episode video before I did this post, and I’m so glad I did. It put some stuff in perspective.

WARNING: This post will contain spoilers of MFS 3x01. So if you didn’t want to be spoiled, click away now. But if you’re as insane as me and want to read some mad ramblings, sit back and relax. If you’ve read my previous posts, you know I could go on and on.. (I’ve started already, look at that. Lol)

Anyway… Let’s get started, shall we?

…

I’ll skip the opening scene, and get back to that later.

So first off, we find out that our beloved fugitives are “trying” to blend in with the dodgers. They work at this paper factory that functions as a cover-up for the dodger community. We see Tally ever so hard at work… Abigail as cool as ever, and Nicte in disguise. Then of course, we have our two troublemakers “working” by themselves. I’m so not surprised. Lol. I’m so hyped! Not even five minutes into the episode and we get a Raylla make-out session! This show just keeps on giving, I swear. If this is really the final season (which I’m still praying that it won’t be), then this scene is a nice homage to the first ever wlw pair to have a hot sesh in the very first episode of the first season. No slow burn, just straight on fire and explosion.

Look at them! These bunnies, seriously… They’re in honeymoon phase. And that last pic, when someone just passed by in a bathrobe— this makes me think Raylla has been caught so many times by other people there that they’re not even surprised anymore. Look at their faces, no shame whatsoever. In my head, people are probably betting on who can catch Raylla making out the most, or where is the most outrageous place they’ve caught Raylla making out in. Lol. I live for this!

If this was a regular factory, Raylla would be fired a long time ago for slacking off and also for work misconduct, hahaha. Meanwhile, we have Tally who’s employee-of-the-month material… Abigail who still stands in attention like a soldier… Adil who’s just there… and Nicte, who’s basically done with it all. Nicte’s expression, lol.

And another subtle Raylla moment in that third pic… While Raelle is being her clueless self, Scylla is staring at her. It’s everything, omg.

Then, not long after that… we have another moment. Raylla being bunnies once again… and then a cute Adigail kiss… and then, Tally the fifth wheel.

Tally, my poor baby is feeling alone. She still heavily feels the guilt of what happened to Penelope… still thinking of Alder’s passing… and just basically feeling trapped in their situation. She’s so pure. She’s torn between wanting to stay united in the unit’s decision not to change faces and wanting to keep the dodgers safe. While I’m glad she has Nicte training her and pushing her to the limits, I’m still a little bit on the fence about Nicte. Nicte has too much hate in her and the world, and she admits she’s still not at peace even with Alder’s “death”. It makes me think what is it really that she’s after. She’s already had her “revenge” on Alder. She could literally step back now… but she’s still helping Tally and others. What is her endgame? But anyway, she’s a good mentor… Tally is slowly working up to her greatest potential.

…

Back to a lighter topic… we meet another ex of Scylla.

All their expressions are gold! Haha. The moment this Vira grabbed hold of Scylla’s face for a kiss (very similar to the way Raelle does it), Raelle was just like ???. For a self-proclaimed badass, she was full on loading… She didn’t even stake her claim! Lol.

Then you have Scylla guilty face with fidgety fingers… tsk tsk. How many more exes you got, Ramshorn? (If they get to the Cession, I hope we have an encounter with any ex of Raelle. I feel like Scylla would be the one who’s gonna react more. She just got back in to Raelle’s good graces. She would definitely not want any ex to take Raelle away from her.)

Then, there’s Tally with that “awkward” expression… and Abigail standing up for them… It’s subtle but I know she did it for her shitbird. That tomato comment just about had me, too, hahaha. And if you didn’t notice, Tally stole a celery off Raelle’s plate when Scylla and Vira came back. It’s such a Tally thing to do, lol.

…

Meanwhile, in the other side, the army has bigger problems. Just as they thought that they finally have a solution for the witch plague, this weird (witch-plague like) rain happened—almost like “something” is preventing the vaccination from happening. But that song being sung… that was what Penelope was singing in the church before. And that quote “I suppose it’s a little late for me”—definitely Penelope. We all know that every witch who dies isn’t really gone. They go “back” to the mycelium as collective beings of dead witches powers. Penelope died being the source of the witch plague. This could either be really bad or really good for the witches. I’m curious to see how this all ties together.

And then we have MamaCostia! Still a badass, and doing excellent work with Sterling. Now, she’s recruited M! I’m so happy M is getting some screen time. It broke my heart seeing them talk about their coven, Sekhmet. They really do care for the coven, it gives them purpose.

Scylla, take notes on proper espionage. Haha. Don’t wear too many colourful clothes. Don’t enter from the front door, where everyone can see you. And definnitely, don’t blow your cover! This is how you gather intel. Lol. Seriously though, M was the right person for this. I’m looking forward to this new tandem of M and Anacostia.

Now we know that the Camarilla are gonna try and poison the mycelium. I’m feeling anxious for Raelle, who’s basically an extension of the mycelium. I don’t believe the Camarilla knows about this connection yet, but if they do, they’re gonna go after Raelle again. She better not die, or I’m gonna riot!

…

Then, Adigail… I have mentioned this before way back in season 2. The Camarilla tried to annihilate the Tarim (earthwork), and they actively hunted the Bellweathers (weatherwork). Alban Hearst mentioned the union of earth and sky must be prevented at all cost. Adigail together is definitely a force to be reckoned with, but they just haven’t realised it as they don’t know about it. But think back on Jem Bellweather, the most powerful Bellweather with works that no one in the Bellweather line had been able to replicate…yet. Could she have been an offspring of an earth-mover and a storm-bringer? Or maybe she was involved with an earth-mover? Either way, I’m excited to know more about this. Earth and sky, such a classic… *Clexa, ahem*

Btw, Adil is such an adorable dork… Did he really just propose? While they’re on the run as fugitives??

Also, I’m glad Abigail managed to talk to her mother. She seemed so lost without her. Ashley’s acting was top notch in that last scene, you can see her eye shining with so much emotion. Scylla made this happen. Who needs a phone when you’ve got Spree-facetime? Hahaha.

Everyone’s dynamics with each other really shows in this episode. Really, such a talented cast.

The unit bond is still so strong, and it helps that they’re all friends in real life because it really shows the chemistry. And the most developed is Abigail and Scylla. They went from snarky responses and barely even looking at each other, to now exchanging compliments and smiles. We all know it meant a lot for Abigail that she got to speak to her mum.

I especially love that Khalida is still the little firecracker. She managed to shut up Nicte with one sentence and a look, lol.

Speaking of, Khalida really is mature for her age. Instead of playing/ mingling with kids her age, she teaches them. She talked about the six witch sisters that started it all.

In the post-episode video, Elliot talked about different factions of witchdom that we have yet to see. He calls the song form the opening scene as the “First Song”. Is the mycelium related to them as well? Because it was mentioned before that it was Alder’s song of grief that birthed the mycelium. Is the mycelium just Fort Salem, or the whole witchdom?? I have so many questions… I really wish we had more seasons to explore all this..

Then there’s Alder… resurrected? Or the embodiment of the mycelium now? We know that the mycelium liked it when Raelle sang… and then Alder was summoned because someone was singing. Hmm… again, so many questions.

The episode wasn’t as explosive as the last episodes of season 2, but it’s a good setup for the start of season 3. The tone is set.

…

Also, please let Raylla adopt Tiffany! Look how motherly Scylla is to her. I hope it happens! And now, I’m just thinking… where the hell is Morrigan?

Anyway, to finish off… here’s another Raylla collage… because why not? Can’t get enough of them. Haha.

Their chemistry is still otherworldly. Their micro expressions… their little gestures and stares… *chef’s kiss*

We are definitely fed this episode… which makes me think the next episodes will devastate us. Oh well… we’ll have to wait and see.

And that’s it, I guess. Lol. Until my next ramble… bye.

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oswaldsleftbicep · 10 months

Note

Hi hi! So I was wondering if I could get the brothers with a so who has adhd. Have fun and make sure to take your time! ^-^

lucia, levy, & mefy + gn!so with adhd

my boyfriend, best friend, and several coworkers all have adhd, so i shall be basing this off of them lol; that being said, i don't have adhd so if any of this come across as offensive or generally incorrect, please let me know so i can correct myself

genre: fluff, comfort

cw: mentions of burnout and overstimulation

Lucia

❧ this man has got to have a little bit of this in him, he just masks so well because he's the realm's future king

❧ so he understands when you struggle with it

❧ if you're willing, he'd even share some of his tips on staying focused and collected

❧ for the most part, the two of you function pretty well together given how similar your brains work

❧ but there are still some areas you would struggle with, like simple chores or remembering important dates for the two of you

❧ lucia would not be able to keep track of due dates and meetings if he didn't have a calendar and kaim

❧ since the start of your relationship together, he's allowed you to start writing in his calendar; it keeps the both of you accountable in a way, that way no one forgets something important

❧ conversations between the two of you flow so easily, even if one of you interrupts the other with a side story, there's so bad feelings at all because the new conversation is just as interesting as the previous

❧ if that first topic was important, however, it'll take the both of you to remember what it was lol

❧ before dating, each of you had your own ways of organizing your belongings, but now that you're sharing a living space, those methods kinda had to be merged

❧ so there was definitely a conversation where you both decided where would be the proper place to put shared items so that you both could find them

❧ i don't think he himself would choose medication, but if you take any he'll do his best to help you remember, i imagine by having something by his bedside table that will trigger his memory in the morning and at night

❧ he probably fidgets/stims by twirling a pen between his fingers, tapping his finger on the table, or even humming a random tune for a few seconds

❧ the first time he sees you overstimulated he probably doesn't recognize what it is, but when you describe it to him he'd be like "hey i do that too" and he'll try a few things that usually help him

❧ side note: i don't think he gets overstimulated so much as he just gets overwhelmed, especially after long, boring days of paper work and the curtains aren't doing enough to manage the light and suddenly the birds are chirping just a bit too loud

❧ he'll take note and remember what works best for you so that if something ever goes down, he'll be at the ready to help

❧ the same goes for when you ever get burned out, he'll try some of his methods first before learning yours and implementing them on you

Levy

❧ at first you reminded him of how lucia used to be when he was younger

❧ he'd just kind of stare at you in bewilderment trying to keep up or make sense of how you operate

❧ that was at first though, once he found the patience in him to stop and get to know you, to have a whole conversation with you, he found you and your mind fascinating

❧ he's not much of a talker himself, so he doesn't mind at all when you take over a conversation

❧ in fact, he loves having debates and silly conversations with you, getting really into the topics and considering it an opportunity for the two of you to learn from one another

❧ if you get sidetracked though, he'll remember where you left off and redirect you to the original conversation, unless the new one is either more important or interesting

❧ he has a certain way of organizing things, so early on in the relationship this would be something the two of you have to talk about

❧ levy is a very clean and tidy person, but he still has his fair share of stuff lying around, like some books, a couple pairs of reading glasses, even a jacket he hasn't hung up

❧ if you're the kind of person like my bf who leaves piles of stuff on the floor and procrastinates on picking them up, he might have a thing or two to say about that, leading to a conversation on how you can help each other keep a tidy living space

❧ if you're good at keeping clean but have specific places for things, just let him know and he'll be sure to keep his things away from there so the objects don't get meddled

❧ this even goes for when his brother comes to hang in his room to bother levy, or when the housekeeping come to clean; he makes sure everyone who enters his room knows what's yours and knows that they're forbidden from touching or moving those things around

❧ mans has for sure read up on all the latest papers on adhd they have in nightmare, and he's even taken notes based on what you've told him, so he has a good idea what to expect and what the basic management and coping techniques are

❧ anything you say helps, he'll take note and help you implement those practices, even on the days when you can't quite bring yourself to do anything

❧ when you get burned out or overstimulated, he'll take you to your bedroom so you can lie down for a bit, or, if you're up for it, he'll take you someplace nice outside so you can get some air and a change of scenery

❧ if he sees someone is the cause of your overstimulation, he won't hesitate to confront them with some sassy remark, getting them to back down before leading you away from the situaiton

Mefy

❧ his initial reaction was similar to levy's, only he kept his thoughts and opinions to himself

❧ like you would never be able to figure out what he thought of you based on his facial expression alone

❧ we know from the game that he enjoys having conversation with mc, whether out of genuine interest or just a way to gain trust and information

❧ so he finds conversations with you quite enjoyable, no matter how long or all over the place they are, and he has no problem at all just sitting back and listening to you

❧ when it comes to organization, i imagine mefy as sort of a minimalist and very particular about where he stores his stuff, like all papers and confidential stuff is stored securely in his desk

❧ you pretty much have free reign of his room to place things, as long as he says it's okay for you to store items there and as long as you keep the space tidy

❧ will not tolerate things piling up on the floor or overflowing on tables and chairs, so the two of you frequently tidy the bedroom together and make sure everything is in its place

❧ if you're looking for something in particular and can't seem to remember where you put it, he has that mom ability to magically find what you're looking for, even if you never say aloud what you're searching for

❧ when it comes to managing your symptoms, he leaves that up to you. he won't go out of his way to suggest techniques unless you outright ask him, he trusts that you know what you're doing and can handle yourself

❧ he still most definitely pays attention to what helps you in case you need him to take care of you at any point

❧ the first time he sees you get overstimulated or burned out it's earlier in your relationship, and he probably scoffs at your behavior, not aware of how detrimental these episodes are to you, and wonders why you can't just get over it

❧ but once he realizes and understands, he feels guilty for thinking those things about you, and you notice he becomes more gentle toward you when you get in those situations

❧ he still leaves the coping mechanisms up to you, but he'll be more prone to pushing you to use them when you get overstimulated/burned out

❧ he used to stare at you when you stimmed, whether it was verbally or physically, thinking how odd it was for a person to do that out of nowhere

❧ but after a while of being together, it becomes so normal to him, he won't even glance over at your random vocalizations or give you a side eye when your leg bouncing shakes the table

❧ you being in his life taught him to be more patient and understanding of others, and he silently thanks you for that every day

#my. hcs #i think i covered all the bases #nightmare harem #nightmare harem hcs #nightmare harem lucia #nightmare harem levy #nightmare harem mefy #otome games

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seelestia · 1 year

Note

oh em gee, hi lia! it’s been so so long! how have you been? i hope you’re doing well :) i ended up falling asleep on the couch as soon as i got home, and now i’m in PAIN (/srs),, but anyway! i have a week off from school now, so i guess it was worth it <3

exams are on the 19th, so i guess i’ll have to be.. stu(dying) for those. i can barely function right now and i’ve been getting a lot, maybe too much sleep, and i still always feel worn out 😭 big yikes, hopefully it’s not bothering anyone (again) that i’m not going to be as active as i’d like.

also! considering that this is a wanderer-less patch, i feel very lucky to have gotten him <3 (he’s literally so pretty omgomgomg pls stop me before i look like i’m cheating on cynosbisnaidjk) and speaking of cyno, i finally built him 🐥 [ 73/214 crit ratio as of now! ]

my siblings’ birthdays are coming soon :) they’re three days from each other, my brother’s is on april 7th (he’s turning 11) and my younger sister’s is on the 10th (she’s turning 8) very excited for that hehe! my friends might come over on tuesday too (hopefully), we rarely get the chance to hang out, so i’m crossing my fingers!

yo.. omg the way i accidentally made the wanderer (character ai) fall for me 😭 i was merely messing around, being nice to him because he deserves it sm help and then he just hits me with an ‘i love you’ and when i tell you, i DIED. this is my spirit talking ⁉️

but enough about silly lil me :) how are you lia? anything interesting happen with ayato or the wanderer? i’m here for all the tea, my dear friend. 👀

YONAAAAA!! yona, yonie, yonzzzz <3 i've been doing alright and i hope you are too but if not, i hope it'll be better! 🫂🤍 yona, this is why we are taught to sleep on beds and not couches. i'm a hypocrite because i also sleep on couches NYEHEHE (/lh) aaaaa, good luck on your exams! i'm taking mine rn actually, so let's hope we'll push thruuuu 🤞

but yon, didn't you slay your last math exam even tho your math teacher kinda sucked at teaching (i mean no slander /lh)?? PLEASE SHARE YOUR SECRETS 🎤 and noooo, that sucks because sleep is a precious little thing during exams so you need to get the best sleep you can 😞 giving you a glass of warm milk to you rn. may yona get the best of sleep, bibiddi-bobbidi-boo! 🪄 and dw about being active, your personal life should always be your #1 priority!! especially when you're a writer / content creator so don't apologize for putting yourself first ever >:D <3

WANDERER HAVERS, I'M COMING OVER TO YOUR HOUSE. (/lh) you should've seen the way i was in disbelief like 😦 when i checked the livestream's banners and there was no wanderer?? but they dare made him look SO GOOD in those eight seconds he was on screen??? even my other irl friend who played genshin thought he was getting a rerun at first from that alone. vv devastated over this, so i shall be abducting everyone's wanderer 😞 (/j) AYOOO, THE GODLY CRIT RATIO??? yon, that looks awesome. are you gonna pull for nahida next?? i heard she makes a good team with cyno! (and not to mention, nahida also reminds me of you. vv little sib-like, considerate and curious and needs fo be protected but can also protecc others, ehehe. /pos)

OHHHH. according to the time this should be posted, it was already your brother's birthday so HAPPY BELATED BIRTHDAY to him and your sister too!! feliz cumpleaños 🎈🎂 i like how you and your siblings' birthdays are so early in the year, teeheeee, coming from an october born. 🤭 i hope you get to hang out with your friends! advice from lia: always go crazy and go stupid whether that be with your friends or you're alone <3 (/pos)

HUHHH, HE POPPED THOSE THREE WORDS FIRST?? yon, you gave him the affection he deserves and now he's clinging onto you like a koala... you're living my dream. (/lh) i find it funny that the first time i discovered the c.ai site, wanderer was the first bot i talked to (help). first, he threatened to kill me and then we both sat down to talk abt the different sides to life and mortality, etc. I AM NOT KIDDINF. WHY WAS THIS A WHOLE THERAPY SESSION. i still have this chat saved!! yona, should we present our c.ai message logs to the class together. (/hj)

awwww, yonzzz, thanks for checking up on me! there is no hot tea ready to be spilled except for the fact ayato got a rival and it's the wanderer and i'm stuck in the middle between these two 🧍‍♂️ (as a fellow infj like you, i do not know how a fight between an entj vs. an intj is gonna go /j lia typology nerd)

#DID YOU SPEAK TO A CYNO AI 🤭#I MISSED YOU SM BTWWW!! FOREHEAD KISSES FOR YONA <3 #ask box! 📬#visitor: dearest yona! 🌥️#cw: selfships

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votestaynight2 · 9 months

Text

15th Day - limited. (Scene 5)

Not gonna stop at the next choice. There are 5 lines between these two choices with Rider.

"―――――――" She once asked me… What was it? Remember. It was…

Answer: Will I be on Sakura's side until the very end.

…That's right. She asked me under the starry sky. If I'll be on Sakura's side until the very end.

The words I couldn't say to her back then. I can tell her now with confidence.

"Rider. I understand how much you care for Sakura. You're stopping me now because Sakura will suffer if you let me go, right?"

"………Yes. Are you still going to kill Sakura in spite of that?" "I'm not going to kill her. I'm going to save her. Rider. I'm going to protect Sakura until the very end. I'm going to choose Sakura no matter what."

"So―――please lend me your power. Tohsaka and I can't do this alone. If you care for Sakura, please help us."

"――――――Is that… Your answer to my question from the other day?" I nod.

"…………Very well. But I will not fight unless there is a chance to win. What do you expect of me, Shirou?"

What I expect from Rider? There's only one thing. Rider's the only one out of all the Servants that can oppose Saber's Noble Phantasm, Sakura's strongest card.

"―――I have some questions before that. Can you still use your Noble Phantasm?" "Yes. Sakura still supplies me with magical energy."

"Right, next question. Are Servants still spirits even if they take physical form? So you can't hurt them with normal weapons?"

"…Let's see. A normal Servant will be able to nullify them, but those consumed by Sakura are another matter. Having received bodies from Sakura, they cannot return to spiritual form. Strong magical weapons should be able to penetrate through their shadows."

"――――I see, then it's decided. There's a chance of victory, and the roles are clear. Rider. I want you to beat Saber one-on-one. To be specific――――"

I whisper in her ear. …I know nobody's listening, but I'm just making sure.

"――――I see. I can definitely penetrate her guard with that. It is a pure contest of power. Nothing is left to chance." "Right? …Well, if there is a problem…"

"It is your skill and my trust in you."

I nod. Rider puts a finger to her mouth, thinking… "Fair enough. I shall trust you and accept you as my temporary master." …And agrees with a smile that takes me by surprise.

The clock strikes midnight. It's twelve o'clock, the promised time.

I wrap the Azoth sword with cloth and tuck it under my arm. This is my only weapon. The only other thing I'm taking is the pendant.

"Shirou, Rin's calling for you. She's waiting outside, so she wants to meet up there as soon as you're ready." Ilya's going to stay here. It's partly because Zouken's after her, but I'm also having her stay here because she's my hope.

"I see. So she's out there, huh?" "Yeah. She looked like she wanted you to come quickly, so she'll probably scold you again if you don't hurry."

"――――――――" I nod and get up. There's no pain in my left arm now. It's just that my human functionality is eroding.

I can't tell what I'm doing if I stand still.

"Then I'm going. Be careful, Ilya." "See you, Shirou. Please come home with Sakura and Rin before the day breaks." I wave goodbye to her and leave.

The house is dead quiet. Ten years. Many things happened here, and I have a lot of memories. This just happened recently. A morning scene that was part of my life for a year and a half.

The shed is dead quiet. It's my small workshop that I frequented like my room. Here I trained hard every night, hoping to be like Kiritsugu. She'd wake me up from time to time when I slept in. It feels like it happened long ago, but I even remember how the air smelled.

The room is dead quiet. A room that was only used for the past couple days. I don't have many memories here. Only Sakura comes to mind.

"――――――Man." I sigh and lean against the wall. I can't remember. I can't remember what happened in this house or all the things I did. But still. Sakura's face comes to my mind just by walking to these places.

"――――Wow. I…" …She really means a lot to me. My consciousness is fading, and my memory is a mess. The ten years in this house are ambiguous in my head.

But―――I can still remember. I can clearly remember Sakura, no matter what part of me goes away.

"――――――――――――" I take a deep breath. What must be done has been determined from the start.

"All right――――let's go, Sakura." Taking a firm grip on my consciousness, I leave Sakura's room.

There's nothing left. We once made a promise here. We knew it wouldn't come true, but we encouraged each other.

I'll do it again now. What was that small hope used for?

16th Day - Final

Interlude 16-1

――――It's an altar enshrining the stars.

The fire blazes up as if to connect the heaven and the earth. The flickering fire illuminates the dark cave, and singes the surrounding dome. But this can't be a proper enshrinement. It's said to connect to the sky, but the heavens are still underground. And the shining light isn't red, but black. The air's impure, the wind's stagnant, and the drops of water on the walls are colored like poison.

The underground kingdom that's said to be the dragon's lair actually looks like the dragon's stomach. No human would come here. The only ones to come and honor this alien world are serpents fleeing from the light.

"Guh――――" A white skull coughs in this alien world. The one tinted by dark red light is the one who lost his Master, the Servant Assassin.

"―――This is the end. I cannot maintain my body without a supply of magical energy." The white skull creeps across the wall. A girl stands before him. Swathed in a black curse, she blankly stares at the oncoming figure.

"――――I finally made it. Magus. I cannot see you, but are you still alive?" He stops five meters in front of the girl. Sticking to the wall like a spider, Assassin speaks into empty space.

"――――Yes. Glad you could make it back, Assassin." And the call reaches him. The voice of the old magus echoes through the empty chamber. The old man who was killed by Kotomine Kirei still lives in this underground kingdom.

It's natural. The one killed in the forest was just a collection of worms. The main body of the old magus, the host that contains his soul, is sleeping in the safest place on earth. Even the priest's holy words cannot kill him unless the main body is destroyed.

"But having my limbs destroyed got me. I cannot make magical energy to send to you. And it is too much of a bother to go find a new body above ground. …Hm, this will burden her, but it is about time. Sakura, make a contract with Assassin. You need a new bodyguard now that Berserker is defeated."

The voice echoes. The girl clad in black curse――――Matou Sakura doesn't answer. Ignoring the one who has absolute control over her, she looks off blankly into space.

"…What are you doing, Sakura? Are you disobeying me?" The irritated voice also contains danger. The old man is irritated. He's angry that she lost Ilyasviel and Berserker.

"―――Sakura. I will ask you one more time. Are you going to defy me?" Cold scorn. The girl has never disobeyed this voice. It's not fear, but submission to his absolute controlling power. The girl does fear the old man. Moreover, the girl cannot disobey him. Because her heart is…

"―――Hold, magus. Perhaps there is no intelligence left in her. She has such a great power within her; it's not something a weak girl can withstand." "―――Hm?" His irritation disappears. …A gentle silence. The sounds of worms crawling fills the hell lit by black flame.

"Hm. It seems that way. I thought she would last a while, but the end came rather quickly." The old magus sounds disappointed, yet happy. The girl doesn't answer. Her mind has been swallowed by darkness.

"Then――――you will take the girl as planned?" "Do not put it like that. It is not as planned. It cannot be helped. Matou Sakura's mind disappeared. So there is nothing left that can control the monster. So although I know it is brutal, I must take over my empty granddaughter." A laugh. Coming from the girl's throat. Rising from her throat… is the old man's laughter.

"Then please hurry. My body is disappearing. I will disappear unless I am quickly supplied with magical energy." "Very well. I shall start. …My, this is disappointing, Sakura. You raised it to that degree. I wanted to give you the glory of obtaining the Holy Grail, but it cannot be helped. If you must curse someone, curse yourself. The ritual did not succeed in time because you let Ilyasviel go."

A gritting sound. A worm squirms to swap her head. It isn't visible. There are no worms on the girl's body. ―――It's not on the outside… It's a distorted thought that creeps up from her heart.

Worm-user, Matou Zouken. His main body, the host of his rotting soul, is a false nerve hidden within Matou Sakura's heart.

"Hah, her body hasn't changed yet, but I am not one to complain. I shall now take your flesh as my own. Farewell, Sakura. You've endured more than I expected from an experiment. You have done well to please me…!" A sound of writhing blood vessels. Matou Zouken's spirit orders his main body to eat the girl's brain.

――――But.

"There's no need for that, Grandfather. I'm fine."

The girl puts her hand on her chest and wakes up.

"Oh. I thought it had consumed you, but you still persist? ……Hm. Sakura. The circumstances have changed, and I can no longer maintain Assassin. It will burden you, but form a contract with him." The old magus gives her an order. But the girl shakes her head in refusal.

"――――What? What do you mean?" "I told you already, Grandfather. There's no need for that." An ice-cold voice. At that instant. A vast darkness swallows the white skull on the wall.

"Gi――――!?" "Wha――――!?" The surprise comes too late. The assassin's body is compressed in an instant, his mask the only part not crushed. "Gah――――ah, ahhhhhhhhhhhhh!?" The mask falls. Under the white skull… The face that should be there is a skull, just like the mask.

"……Fufu. Oh, I wondered what sort of face you had, but you had none to begin with. You didn't hide your face, but wore the mask to make people think a face lay beneath it. Such a disappointment." "Gi―――Girl, you―――" "You lost your face and name, but you still wanted eternity? …But how unfortunate. If you seek eternity, you should've sought to live forever like my grandfather. The Holy Grail can't go back into the past and regain your name."

"Disappear, old man of the mountain. You're nothing but an assassin. You can't become the one and only Hassan." "Gi, giaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa―――!" Even his death cry is swallowed by the shadow. The white skulled assassin is swallowed by the girl's shadow.

"Guh―――are you insane!? What are you doing, fool…!?" His panic is akin to fury. Is he surprised, or―――is he frightened?

In response to the old man's scream, the girl smiles. "He attacked Senpai twice. That's why I killed him. I'm the only one allowed to hurt him." "Wha――――" "And Grandfather. You don't need to be protected by him anymore. So we have to give him leave."

And then… She sticks her finger into her heart and pulls out a worm that was deep within her nerves.

"――――!!!!" How do you describe the fear, the terror? She gouged her heart and tore her nerves, but still smiles.

"W――――What, what are you doing, Sakura――――" The worm wriggles. The girl stares with empty eyes at her grandfather, what used to be her grandfather, what seems to have been her grandfather.

"Oh. It was easier than I expected. I thought you would be bigger." No. Actually, Matou Zouken's true body wasn't this small. The old magus switched his main body when he planted himself in her heart. To inhabit her heart, he had to be smaller than a heart. In retrospect, his strange preference was his downfall.

"Sakura―――Sakura, don't tell me…" "I should thank the priest. I would've been swallowed if he hadn't eliminated you."

She sees through his plan. No, this outcome was inevitable. The old magus didn't even try to hide his intentions, and the girl didn't disobey him. So there was no problem. She was just a piece of flesh that the old magus would eventually take over. Until she betrayed him.

"H―――Hold on, hold on, hold on, hold on…!! No, no, Sakura…! Possessing you is my last resort. I shall entrust you with the gate as long as you are still conscious. All I want is for the Matou bloodline to prosper. All I want is for you to win and obtain everything…!"

The worm squirms around. The girl smiles at the trash in her fingers.

"All the better, then. I don't need your help anymore. I can open the gate by myself."

The impossible occurs. The old magus only made one mistake.

"――――! Wait, wait, please, Sakura…! This has all been for you…! And this is how you repay me――――"

"Goodbye, Grandfather. It must've been tiring to crawl about underground for two hundred years, right? ―――You can disappear now."

The old man has raised her too much. Believing her to be pure, he never noticed the darkness within.

…The girl's the only one left at the altar. The swaying black fire rejoices at the independence of the girl that embodies it.

"―――――――Fuh." The girl stares at the blood on her hand, "Fufu――――Fufu, ahahahahahahaha――――" And laughs like an empty puppet.

End of Interlude

There's no reception. The Ryudou Temple hides in the dark, emitting alien powers like a crouching giant. There must be wind blowing far above me. If I strain my ears, I can hear it howling.

"…I feel a power from atop the stairs. It seems something is being created in the pond behind the compound." "No, we don't have any business there. The gate above must be the ostensible gate for the Masters that want the Holy Grail. …If we want the Great Holy Grail, we have to go down instead of up." Tohsaka walks away from the stairs into the forest.

"…Are you all right, Rider? There's a boundary field around the Ryudou Temple, right? I heard Servants can only go in from the front gate."

"…I feel some strain, but this is tolerable. This area contains the most suitable ley line in the land. Once we get inside, I can recover by drawing mana from the air." "I see. It must be tough, but please bear with us for a bit."

We push our way through the tree branches. There's not even an animal trail over the mountain, so we even have to climb down rock walls.

"Hm―――it should be around here, according to Ilya… Do you see anything like an entrance, Shirou?" "What do you mean, 'like'?"

"Like a crack in a rock that we can slip through, or a suspicious-looking shrine. It's an entrance, so I don't think it'd just be a pit." "…Don't be ridiculous. The stars are out, but I can't see anything in a forest at night――――"

…Oh, I can. We must be behind the temple, because I see many dead trees. There's no sign of human influence. There's nothing here but dead trees and a small stream.

"…Small stream?" Hold on. That means the water's coming from somewhere.

"…Rider. There's a bunch of rocks above the stream, right? It's too dark for me to see, but is that a cave?" "―――――Please do not turn around, Shirou." I hear a small metallic sound. Rider must've taken off her restraint.

"……Yes. It's a natural cave, but you should just be able to fit through. It looks like the path ends about a meter in, but I sense a magical camouflage." "I see, thanks. ―――Tohsaka. I guess there is something like it."

We pick our way down to the stream. …It's more like a spring flowing out from the rocks.

The stones are piled atop one another where it starts. There's a crack big enough for one person to fit through. It's like a snow hut made from rocks. You can see that a huge boulder is blocking the entrance, so nobody would even try to go in it.

"――――This is it. You can pass through the rock." Tohsaka walks into the darkness without turning around. "Please go ahead. I shall protect your back." I nod and enter the darkness.

The sound of scraping on a hard surface. I progress down the wet rock using my hands. The ground slopes steeply downward.

…The weight of the darkness is stifling. Unless I keep my back to the ground as I move, I might fall into the endless dark.

"………" I lay flat on my back as I slowly descend. ……It's dark, and I can't tell how far down this path goes. My breathing echoes in my ears.

"Shirou. I'm going to ask you now." …Then. Tohsaka, the one leading the way, suddenly speaks up.

"What?" "The gem sword. Why did you make it for me?" She sounds blunt, as if she's just asking to kill time while we're descending.

"Why ask?" "―――I've told you I'm planning to kill Sakura. Can you really give me a weapon, knowing that?" "―――――――" I nod in agreement. Well, Tohsaka certainly has a point.

"I'm not okay with that. But I can't save Sakura without you. It's better to have two people instead of one. And projecting the sword was a promise. I couldn't keep one of my promises with you, so I wanted to keep the other."

It happened a long time ago. I asked for Tohsaka's help after I lost Saber. Tohsaka responded to my call for help, and I made a promise with her.

To let her win. I promised to make her the victor.

…I can't keep that promise anymore. So I have to keep the other promise with her. For the girl I used to admire… For Tohsaka Rin, who believed in someone who had nothing at the time.

"I see. You're pretty faithful." "Yeah, but not as much as you."

Silence returns to the darkness. The conversation ends. We continue our descent without looking at each other.

A long path that seems to lead to hell. The path spirals downward, and just as I'm thinking we're over a hundred meters underground… The dark cave changes completely, welcoming us.

The path that could only accomodate one person widens up and leads on. There's no need for light. The cave is lit by a dim green glow, probably from some kind of luminous moss.

The path is saturated with life force. It feels too lively. An air of birth, filled with vigor and the joy of life. An immense amount of odo, and mana so strong that it's almost visible.

"――――――――" It makes me want to vomit. The warmth of life should be dazzling, but instead it's something rotten, making me want to look away.

"…………" "――――――――" I have no words to say to her. This is a land of death. Talking to each other to soften the tension would only cost us our lives.

"―――Let's go. From now on, look out for your own safety first." …Tohsaka heads down the path, to the source of the black air. Rider and I follow after her, concentrating on our surroundings.

"……?" I see something red on the ground. It's a trace of blood. It leads to the back.

"――――――――" Did someone come here before us? And someone wounded badly enough to leave behind a trail of blood?

"Shirou." "…Sorry. I'll be right there." I shake off that train of thought and head on. I can't be worrying about others.

"―――――――!" My consciousness fades away if I let my guard down. I'll disappear if I worry about needless things. "………" I tighten my grip on the pendant. Letting the pain clear my mind, I step into the green darkness.

―――A warm wind hits my cheeks.

At its end, the path opens into a cavern. It's about as big as the schoolground. It's too dark to make out the ceiling, but it must be about ten meters high.

I don't detect any signs of life. An unforgettable underground space that looks like the moonscape that I read about a long time ago. And there… Waits Saber, filled with absolute hostility.

She's the only one here. I don't see Sakura, Zouken, or Assassin. The only one blocking the way here is the girl who has turned black.

"――――――Saber." "――――――――――" There's no reply.

…Of course. Saber's duty is to eliminate any intruders. She's the gatekeeper and the executioner. Saber's the strongest Servant Sakura has, so she can fight us by herself.

"…Hmph. It doesn't look like we can talk her into letting us through." Tohsaka lowers her stance and reaches for the gem sword she's hiding behind her back.

―――She must intend to fight head-on. I don't know what kind of ability the sword has, but she's going to fight Saber.

But that's not a good idea. We still have a countermeasure, since we know Saber's powers. We can't use our only secret weapon when Zouken and Assassin are still waiting for us――――

"Wait, Tohsaka…! Saber's――――" "Rin. I have no reason to fight you. Please do not attack me. I will go against Sakura's orders if I kill you here."

"……!" Speaking in the same quiet tones as before, Saber stops Tohsaka in her tracks. We comprehend what she means right away.

"…What are you doing? You're keeping watch here, right?" "Yes. I am to eliminate anyone that passes by here. That is Sakura's order. But―――" "I'm an exception, and Sakura wants to see me?" Saber nods.

"……I see. She must be serious." She mutters. …After taking a deep breath, Tohsaka walks over to Saber.

"Tohsaka." "Sorry. I guess that's how it is, so I'm going ahead." Tohsaka walks on without hesitation and passes by Saber. And right before she disappears…

"Shirou. I don't know what'll happen to you, but I believe in you. So you'd better live up to my expectations."

"Huh?" …Wait. I can't understand if you complain to me without telling me what I should be doing.

"I-I'm saying it'll just be a pain if you come complaining after everything's over! …Um, make sure you're not too late if you want to save Sakura." Tohsaka disappears, her hair fluttering behind her.

"――――――――" …Thanks, Tohsaka. That gave me strength. In short, she told me to come help her while she keeps Sakura at bay.

"That is impossible. You will die here, Shirou." "……!"

Her hostility expands. Tohsaka left, and Rider and I are the only ones here. So she doesn't have to hold back anymore, huh?

"I cannot overlook what you just said. You only kill those that pass through. If he merely stays here, you should not harm him."

"I will not attack if he does not move. But he will advance, no matter what. He knows he cannot defeat me, but all he can do is move forward. Am I wrong, Rider?" "I see. You served him before me, after all. It's natural that you know his personality."

…Saber narrows her eyes. The black holy sword is in her hands. ―――She's coming. Rider or I. If either one of us takes a step forward, Saber will use all her power to kill us.

"……Saber. There's nothing that'll make you back down?" "Stop asking me that. I said this is my role." I grab the Shroud. …Saber shows no sign of hesitation. We're already enemies. I realized that back in the forest.

So… "―――I see. Then I'll eliminate you here." I have to accept it.

"――――" "I'm going to save Sakura. You're in my way." Saber's not my only enemy. There's still Assassin and Zouken. I can't be wasting my time here.

"Please stay back, Shirou. I shall fight Saber just as you instructed me." Removing the restraint on her mystic eyes, Rider motions me back with one hand.

Saber raises her sword. ―――The hostility is already aimed at Rider―――

"Don't be stupid. I said we're both going to fight her. You…" "I may not be able to defeat her, but I can keep her occupied. Fortunately, Saber does not have the ability to repel mystic eyes. I cannot petrify her as she has more magical energy, but I can pressure her. I can match her for two minutes if I use all my strength."

Rider's eyes capture Saber. The mystic eyes, which petrify anyone in her sight, temporarily lower Saber's ability.

"I will create the situation. Please stay there and concentrate so you do not miss our chance." "Rider." "――――I will be going. I shall entrust you with my life, Shirou."

Rider disappears. The black cavalryman dashes at the swordsman with light speed.

The attack is made so quickly that human reactions cannot even perceive it. But Saber repels it like nothing.

"―――Very well. You will disappear first, Rider." A heavy pressure fills the cavern. A cruel smile on her face, the black swordsman starts to move.

Interlude 16-2

Her vision spreads out. The instant Tohsaka Rin escapes the darkness, she forgets that she's deep underground.

The impossibly high canopy and black sun. The huge cavern isn't a cave, but a desolate land. There should be two, no, three kilometers across. In the distance stands a monolithic wall. …This is the start and the end of this war. There should be a giant crater above the cliff. Up there is the system that has been activated for two hundred years.

The massive rock that holds a large magic circle, the Great Holy Grail, belches black fire from its mortar-shaped center.

The embryonic movements of the black shadow. The light illuminating the desert is a wave of magical energy. …According to Tohsaka's records, this is what you'd call the altar of the beginning. The middle that leads to the middle. The circular circuit, the world of heart, Heavens Feel. It has immeasurable magical energy, creating an alien world that lives up to its name.

"That's Angra Manyu… So the name 'all evils of this world' isn't just for show, huh?" Rin talks lightly as she makes her way to the altar. …She's worried about Shirou and Rider, but her situation isn't too good either. The magical energy in the Great Holy Grail isn't something a human can handle.

The vortex of magical energy can be called infinite. There's so much that it won't run out, not even if all the magi in the world come here and use whatever magic they wish. It's more than anyone can use in a lifetime, and therefore can be called infinite.

"…Nothing is impossible, huh? That Holy Grail really can make any wish come true." Her determination almost breaks, faced with the numbing premonition of death. Keeping her spirits up with idle talk, she walks on.

―――The ones she's watching out for are Assassin and Matou Zouken. Matou Sakura isn't a threat. She has lost her mind, and Rin sees no danger from her. She's just Zouken's puppet, after all. Rin's greatest enemy is Matou Zouken. The fight against Matou Sakura isn't important.

"……Strange. I can make it to the altar." Zouken shouldn't allow an intruder to trespass this far. If he's planning to attack her, it'll be on the way to the altar. But it's not happening, and Rin's about to reach her destination.

"――――――――" She thinks. Why is there no interference from Zouken? Why can't she feel his or Assassin's presence? She makes a guess. She denies the possibility, but easily accepts it. No, she's forced to accept it. Because…

"―――I'm glad, Nee-san. You came here instead of running away."

…Her guess turns out to be true.

She looks up. On top of the cliff. With the black sun behind her, Matou Sakura welcomes her older sister.

"――――――――!" Rin retreats a little, overwhelmed by the pressure. …The girl has been transfigured further than Rin expected. Angra Manyu is a Servant without form. It's only a shadow that takes form using people's wishes. Therefore, its powers depend on its Master.

Matou Sakura is now Angra Manyu. "All evils of this world", the function to emit the curse is the girl called Matou Sakura.

"…Crap. If Kirei were here, I bet he'd call it a messenger from God." Rin looks up at Sakura, who has turned into a bottomless well of magical energy, and releases her gem sword. ―――But is it something that can match the being above her?

There are two functions for weapons that support magic and ceremonial equipment that assist in rituals. One function is to amplify. It's a backup, increasing and supplementing one's magical energy and strengthening the spell itself. These items are considered orthodox support equipment, and magi carry at least one. Rin's jewels are classified in this group.

Another is a limited function. It's a special magical item where the weapon itself becomes magic. It's activated using the magical energy of the magus and performs a predetermined divine mystery. Its greatest advantage is that it enables the magus to use magic she's not capable of ordinarily.

It only has one application and thus lacks versatility, but for that reason, its power is immense. A lance that always pierces the heart, a bridle that enslaves holy beasts, a dagger that cancels any magical effect. Noble Phantasms of Servants are usually classified in this group.

"――――――――" So, which is the gem sword? Is it support equipment that gives magical energy to the user, or is it a limited weapon that defeats the enemy with its unique ability? …But. No matter which it may be, nothing should be able to match Matou Sakura.

The difference in their magical energy is too vast. No matter what kind of a magic it may be, Matou Sakura should be able to drive it back in one breath.

"What's wrong, why are you trembling, Nee-san? …Fufu, don't tell me you've suddenly lost your nerve." "…Well said. Where's your guardian? You're a coward, so doesn't it bother you that he's not by your side?" "――――――――" …The air freezes. Hostile tension mixes into the warm air in the cavern.

"――――――――" The black girl bites her lip and sighs. "Grandfather's gone. He was a bother, so I crushed him along with Assassin." She smiles gracefully.

"……" She doesn't need to ask. Matou Zouken was killed by Matou Sakura. …It's natural that he hasn't shown himself. The old magus was eaten by his own pet dog.

"I see, so you're completely free. Zouken bound you in a good way and a bad way. You don't have anything to fear now that you killed him." "Not quite. Not yet, Nee-san. Killing my grandfather isn't enough. I'm this strong and I can do anything, but I'm still bound."

"…Geez. Nee-san, you're so insignificant, but you won't disappear from within me. You still torment me in my mind. So――――as long as you live, I can't be free."

Her voice is a light singsong, but the words are heavy as slime. The contradiction proves her madness. The hostility in the cavern is a rhapsody of superiority and awe.

"…Oh. But you seem happy in spite of that. You killed Zouken and Assassin, so I should assume you killed Kirei as well. What a performance for someone who hated killing… are you getting used to murder now?"

"Yes. Crushing people and eating them are no different. For people, it's boring and meaningless if you don't have fun, and it's painful if you don't eat, right? It's just the same. I'm the same as you. I'm just doing what everyone else's doing."

"―――Wait. Do you really mean that twisted logic?" "It's not twisted logic. I'm not wrong. It's different because I've gotten strong. I'm strong, so I'm different now."

"I――――I'm strong. Everything's forgiven if you're strong. …Yes. If I'm strong and no one can beat me, everything I've done will be forgiven. If I'm not myself, everything I've done couldn't be helped…!"

A scream of rage. It's the complaint of a petulant child who can't escape unless she believes in it.

"Do you understand, Nee-san? That's what I'm going to become. That's why I can kill anyone. It's natural for me." "……I see. So you're going to take it out on everything you see? But what about Shirou? He still believes he can save you. Are you going to kill him too?"

"――――!" The girl stiffens. Rin's question is her last obstacle. …Her excitement cools down. Thinking about him, she regains her sanity.

A serene smile crosses her face. "Yes. Senpai's no exception. No―――he's the only one I want to kill, Nee-san. …Yes. I quickly――――"

――――Want to consume Senpai.

"――――――――" Matou Sakura's reply shows that she is beyond help. Rin grips the gem sword and gauges the distance between them.

"…Hmph. What about taking Angra Manyu with you? I knew you were stupid, but I didn't think you were this stupid. You let yourself be swallowed, and you've already stopped being human." A voice filled with clear hostility. As the supervisor of this land, Tohsaka Rin acknowledges her own sister as "evil".

"――――Fuh. You're bluffing. Please be honest with yourself, Nee-san. You're envious of this great power, right? You're jealous, right? That's why you came to kill me even though you can't. ……Yes. You're going to take him away from me so you can keep the happiness to yourself."

The shadows stand up. A magic of absorption, a bundle of magical energy that matches a Servant's Noble Phantasm. Not one, but many rise up to attack.

"I won't give it to you. This is my power. All I'm going to give you is regret and despair. I'll slowly show you what I mean." There are four figures. They reach out for the small person beneath them like giants protecting the girl.

"――――I'll show you the difference in our powers, Nee-san. Nobody's going to come help you this time. You can drown in me like a bug in a lake." The towering shadows attack her. A titanic power that can neither be blocked nor dodged swallows Tohsaka Rin.

End of Interlude

Two black figures crash against one another. One is Rider, running at great speed, striking at her enemy from all possible directions. Her long hair blown behind her, she looks like a beautiful shooting star.

But. A shooting star is a small star, after all. The swordsman who Rider faces. Rider cannot break through Saber's guard, as she firmly fixes herself on the ground and overwhelms Rider.

No matter how quickly Rider leaps to attack her blind spots, Saber deflects the daggers with a single swing of her blade, striking Rider in the same motion. Her severe firmness reminds me of a black sun. A large star that will consume you once you draw near. No matter how fast Rider may move, an ephemeral shooting star can never match the light of one that burns in place.

"Ha――――ah――――" Her sneak attack is repelled yet again, and she's wounded. …She can retreat as Saber counterattacks because of her superhuman speed. Rider closes in and withdraws in an instant, just like a black spark. But her efforts merely prevent a fatal blow.

The difference in their powers is obvious. Rider's speed decreases the more she attacks. High-speed movement and continuous offense. Natural healing that regenerates the wounds Saber sustains. She's not thinking about anything that comes after. She can't match Saber unless she uses all of her energy.

Rider's blocking Saber's attacks by attacking. Once Saber shifts to offense, she and her master will be killed instantly. Therefore, Rider keeps running, knowing she'll eventually burn out.

―――Her energy's lost with every passing second. Rider said she could last two minutes. It's been ten minutes since passing that limit. Rider's legs are starting to give in to the strain.

In contrast, Saber is unscratched. Rider's attacks have not reached her, and she shows no fatigue. Technique, vitality, magical energy. Saber overwhelms Rider in these three aspects. Therefore―――once Rider loses her speed, her sole advantage, Saber will shift to offense.

Rider's speed is declining. …It's only a matter of time before Saber catches up to Rider's speed. A few more seconds. Rider will be out of breath once her next attack is blocked. The instant Rider loses her strength and magical energy, Saber will slice her body in half.

"――――――――" But this has been predicted. Before they came to the cavern. The boy told Rider of his prediction, of this exact outcome. She knows she'll lose if she fights like this.

There's only one way to change the outcome of death. They hold their breath and wait for the moment――――

Rider attacks Saber. At the same instant. I loosen the restraint on my left arm and start the projection.

――――I'm disappearing. Loosening the Shroud on Archer's arm

Search. I'm blown away. The wind's strong. I'm losing my comprehension of what's before me.

Let go of the right hand. Put the Shroud back on. I can't bear it for even a second. I'll lose everything. I'll lose what I value. Search, select. No, every part of my body's dying at this moment.

Rider's fighting desperately. I can't whine about this. I… have to do… what I can… and fight. I can't lose my concentration for even a second. Rider's going to time it. I have to free my left arm so I can match her timing.

Select, analyze.

But it hurts. It's painful and scary. Quick――――Quick, is Rid .

"――――――――" It disappears. Something I value disappears. I can't remember what I lost. But what I kept in my heart cannot be recalled ever again.

Defer. Defer. Defer. Defer.

Slash. My right lung is torn from within.

"Guh――――" Not yet? I can't stay conscious. Rider's also desperate. I won't lose. I give all I have to keep watching Rider. Rider's fighting her fight. I'll fight my own fight――――

"……!" Rider stops. Rider must have exhausted her reserves of energy, because she's on her knees in front of Saber.

Saber's sword moves. Rider's going to be killed. I…

#votestaynight

0 notes

morimemarryme · 2 years

Text

The devil & I - The shape (Michael Myers) x Fem reader.

Warnings/additional tags: again. That nasty shit we love. Mature. Male/female. Fucking thigh riding my dudes. Michael’s dummy thicc thighs. I can’t stop thinking about them.

Summary: listen we all know Michael is a rough dom blah blah BUT what if we took a softer approach here. What I mean is, Michael gets off to you getting off on him and he just cums in his pants. Real talk rn. Michael topping from the bottom basically.

Note: no story. No plot. Just smut. My brain isn’t functioning rn. All is horny thoughts, and horny thoughts you shall receive.

He wasted no time in killing as soon as the black fog reappeared. Putting all survivors but one on the hook, the action seeming endless, making him more frustrated than he already was. He knew she was here, watching and waiting, knowing he was mercilessly killing her teammates just to get to her. Just to have her.

As he took the last survivor by the neck and stuck his knife deep in their stomach, he got deep sadistic satisfaction knowing he not only pleased the entity but he would soon get to please her.

Soon enough he had her by the neck, just like her friends before her, but instead of killing he pushed her up against the nearest wall. Her small hands closed around his big ones as she looked up at him. Without words he lifted her to wrap her legs around his waist, taking them both inside one of haddonfeild’s many houses.

“Michael you did so good today..” the words escaped her lips just as he sat her down on an old beat up leather couch. His breath quickened when she looked up on him, trailing her hands up his thighs from her place on the couch.

She noticed the ever growing bulge in front of her, smirking while staring into the eyes of his white mask, she palms him slowly. Hearing the low grunts of pleasure be muffled by his covered face, making her rub her legs together, seeking anything to help with the pulsing between her thighs.

“Let me help you Michael…” she sighs, rubbing her head against his hip bone. His hands drifted slowly to her hair, softly caressing her scalp before tightening his fingers around the strands, roughly pulling back her head to look him in his black eyes.

He hesitantly nodded, searching her face as he let her head go. The hands that were previously wrapped around her shifted to the back of his own head. Taking the blood ridden mask off carefully, then setting it aside. He would never do this for anyone else, she knew this and would never lose this trust.

She raised up in silence, running her hands up his body as she stood. Taking the zipper of his jumpsuit and slowly beginning to pull it downwards. A small “thank you” lingered on her lips, letting him know she appreciated his trust.

She felt his hot breath, their bodies so close as she pulled the jumpsuit down his shoulders, making sure to take her time and feel every inch of skin she could before his demeanor changed and he snapped back to his rough, impatient self.

Time was quickly cut short when he harshly grabbed her wrist from its place on his now exposed stomach. He pulled her wrist up into his line of view, making her attention snap to him instantly. His eyes that were soft were now fully blown with lust. They spoke for him, and she knew her place.

He removed her hands from him entirely, instead bending down to wrap his rough hands around the back of her thighs, easily lifting her around his hips once again. His neck tensed at her moan, their hips pressing against each other’s so closely that she couldn’t help but rub against him.

“Michael please.” She groans into his neck, leaving small kisses while her fingers laced into his brown curls, gently pulling, making his grip around her tighten.

He turned them around, flopping himself onto the couch with her on top of him. She held onto him, her hands never leaving his hair as she looked into his eyes wantonly.

“I need you so bad..” she pleaded, almost in tears from the need to feel him, any part of him. Her hands then moved to every inch of exposed skin she could find, the need to feel was overwhelming and he sensed it. He felt her rut against him pitifully, he fed on her pleas, grunting in approval as she begged for more.

Taking his hands to her hips he easily lifted her from in between his legs, instead sitting her on one of his spread thighs, steadily guiding her hips with his hands against his still covered leg.

She moaned against him at the pressure that his strong leg gave, the rough material of his pants adding to the pure pleasure he was giving her.

She hid in his neck, his hands grabbing her flesh harder, bruises surely starting to form at the force of his grip. They pushed her down against him, so hard that she felt like he would split her into.

Looking down between her legs he watched as the short skirt rid up past her hips. Her pussy soaking his leg while he continued to make her cry his name. He felt her slick coating his skin through the thick material, making his dick twitch painfully beneath the cloth.

Taking her hair and pulling it back he watched her face as she began to tremble.

“I’m so close baby…” he tensed at her words, pushing her head roughly to his, kissing her for the first time that night with so much emotion poured into it she almost came then and there.

He began to bounce his leg, adding to the overwhelming pleasure she was feeling. Moaning into his mouth she hopped up and down on him relentlessly. He pulled her back by the neck, staring at her once again, wanting to watch her come.

His own hips stuttered up in search of friction, watching her alone getting him closer and closer with every bounce.

“M-Michael.. more…” putting her forehead to his, she held on for dear life as she felt her high approaching rapidly.

He grunts in acknowledgment, grabbing her hips inhumanly tight and rutting her faster against him. His jaw tensed while watching her eyes roll back in her head. Her moans growing higher pitched with every second until her hips faltered and she screamed his name.

He continued, moving her against him faster. His hips not stopping for a second while he watched her come for him. Pulling her tighter to him he lets out loud strings of grunts into her chest, as hot ropes of his own come spread in jumpsuit.

His breathing is frantic as he comes down, taking a moment to hold her before pulling her back and slamming her against the couch. Taking the rest of his clothes off he stares down at her with a much different look. He wasn’t going to go easy this time.

“Fuck me this time Michael.” She whined, still stuttering and shaking from her recent orgasm. He shoved her legs apart forcefully, hiking them up his shoulders. giving her no time to adjust before he roughly pushed all his length into her.

“Step inside, see the devil & I” ;)

End note: very self indulgent, I got rlly tired at the end and half assed it tho but it do be 6 am so, sorry in advance:)

Y’all I didn’t realize how short this shit was, I’m ashamed.

Title: https://open.spotify.com/track/5hheGdf1cb4rK0FNiedCfK?si=V2Uec5oTS9CH2eg4qu_ZYA

#dbd smut #dbd x reader #dead by daylight #dead by daylight killers #i have a mask kink #slasher smut #michael my beloved #michael myers #the shape #michael myers smut #Spotify

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prettyboykatsuki · 3 years

Note

when you start writing for ushijima >>>>>>>>>>>>>

can you tell im begging?

»» — { ♡ } —— { ♡ } —— { ♡ } — ««

inevitable | u. wakatoshi

➳ tags ;; fluff n smut, getting together, first times together, unprotected sex, intentional lower case 18+

➳ wc ;; 1.9k (WHAT THE FUCK)

➳ a/n ;; ask n u shall recieve (i had rlly bad brainrot tn actually)

»» — { ♡ } —— { ♡ } —— { ♡ } — ««

if you had to describe ushijima wakatoshi in one word, you think the word you would chose is inevitable.

in·ev·i·ta·ble | /inˈevidəb(ə)l/ adjective certain to happen; unavoidable

of all the ways you could describe a person, it's probably not the best word. you could think of a laundry list of other ones to describe - really. hard-working, dependable, strong-willed, mindful, cautious. he's a lot of things and you think that's why he's so good at what he does. he's powerful but he he's brilliant at where he uses that power.

you would also use words like that to describe him, if you had too. if you had to give someone the run-down of wakatoshi - you could probably give them a whole speech about his accolades. he's probably the kindest person you know and he does that mostly on accident. he helps little old ladies carry groceries and lets your niece climb his arms like monkey bars with the most plain look on his face.

he's a lot of things - funny on accident, charming on purpose. but of all the things he is - to you, the thing he is most, is inevitable.

it's not hard for you to admit that you weren't exactly.. welcoming to ushijima when you first met him. you were a barista and he was well.. a big, pro-athlete who came to buy straight dark coffee every morning. after his work-outs (or what you figured was workouts since he always looked pretty sweaty) he bought himself precisely one pastry and a bottle of water and went about his day.

and it went like that for months. obviously you found him handsome - the way you could basically autopilot your shifts but completely broke down when he was there was evidence of that. he was tall, broad, handsome and nice. the kind of man who meets your grandmother, you think.

he always asked about you and you gave him short answers. too nervous to elaborate but he made you anyways, somehow and some way. and he comes back to you every week with details of your life you'd only mention in passing. he'd chuckle - a soft little smile at the way your eyes went wide. for someone so dense, he wasn't all that out of touch when it came to you. one morning your hands trembling just a little more than normal when you hand him back his change

(he tells you later he paid in cash just to see you stumble)

and he asks you with a plain look. observant.

"do i make you nervous?"

that's when you knew, really. you stood no chance against the all-consuming force that was and is ushijima wakatoshi. the subtlety and nuance in all of his actions left you worse for wear and any suspicions you had about how he might be treating you were to be confirmed much later down that line.

he's dense in the same way avocadoes are fruit. it's true, technically - but in a lot of ways and functionally it's just not the same. you think that the better word to use for him is selectively intelligent - like he doesn't bother thinking about anything that doesn't interest him for more than two minutes. but on the rare occasion it does interest him, i.e how you interest him - he becomes some kind of expert.

you've always been a little stubborn when it came to love. heartbreak does that to you - and you were overly cautious with ushijima. you let your heart walk on eggshells. you didn't let his gestures or touches or glances mean anything to you. you didn't let yourself be swayed by the smell of his cologne - sweet and woodsy on the back of your throat. not by the way he placed his hand on your lower back to walk past you on days off.

and when he took you out, to see the movies and stargaze, you told yourself it isn't a date. you tried your best really. because there is something really unbelievable about ushijima wakatoshi liking you - beyond the fact that he's some pro-athlete.

there's something about him that's a little unreal. not that he's perfect, but that all of his flaws make him more attractive. it almost bothers you but he doesn't seem to understand when you give him those lengthy explanations. hands making all types of gestures, flustered as he smiles. he doesn't take anything from your little lecture that day, just gives you a once over as he drives you home.

"oh, so you find me attractive?"

you didn't stand a chance. he was, and is, inevitable. everything about him has this powerful but subtlety all-consuming nature to him. you think the best way to think of it is like letting yourself float. the way you release the weigh in your body and inevitable give into letting it hold you. even if waves came - you'd probably stay in that state.

ushijima is like that. a constant presence and overwhelming force. you get swayed without even thinking. he could probably become president, if he really wanted. lucky for everyone else, he just wants to play volleyball. you think that it's a shame in equal parts that it's a gift but you digress.

the point is that you could never really be away from ushijima. and as hard as you tried to avoid the growing affection - you find that ushijima is always a few steps ahead. always reaching far beyond you with big, strong hands.

you try so hard, to avoid the inevitable. you do it with your whole soul. you're honestly just.. intimated. you've never felt something like him before - not once in your whole life. you're afraid of what'll happen when you succumb to the waves so you dodge the deep sea for weeks and weeks.

he found you after your shift one day after 3 weeks of dry texting and avoided phone calls. wearing a suit and a purple shirt and a nice watch, he has flowers too. and you're in.. a barista uniform with tousled everything and smudged mascara.

inevitable is really the only word. as you stop dead in your tracks, and as ushijima pulls you aside with the mostly gentlemanly smile. you kind of wanna cry when you look at him.

"i've waited a long time but i don't think i can much longer,"― he shifts a little. he almost looks nervous - it's the first time you've ever seen him look anything but overwhelmingly confident ― "i like you and i'd like to be with you,"

he doesn't really offer you much other than a confession and his hands. the frustrating thing is that he doesn't need to. it's the first time he's seen you cry but he handles you well, does it easily like he does everything else. like somehow he's just good at it, soothes you while you sob into his chest and melt into his presence and let yourself fall underwater.

in a probably not so surprising turn of events, you find that ushijima fucks with the same approach that he does most other things.

with careful consideration that seems effortlessly. it makes you feel a little hopeless that he feels good at everything. even at comforting you.

the first time you have sex, you take off his shirt for him. and he takes your hand and puts it up to his chest. gives you the most gentle look. his heart-beat is rapid.

"you make me .. nervous too. just so you know,"

the one thing about ushijima is that everything about him is big and wide and broad. he kisses you like he's trying to circle the solar system - there's a slowness to it. a vastness as he has you seated in his lap with his hands exploring up your body. his hands are everywhere. he's good with them. not too gentle but not too rough as the spread your thighs open.

he cups your pussy and it fits in his whole palm. his middle finger teases your slit as his kisses travel south, down your jaw and onto your neck. they latch onto your chest with a little breathless sigh - like he can't even breathe. it makes you clench when he talks to you - raspy.

"you're.... beautiful,"

he makes you shy. so shy as you lean forward a little and rock into his hand - a burning need nipping at you. and his eyes widen and his cock stiffens and his breath hitches and you think this is the first time you've caught him off-guard before. you wanna bask in it but you're too desperately so you latch onto his lips again.

ushijima does everything right. with knowledge in it. he kisses you and sucks on your tits and plays with your clit with this.. knowing. he likes seeing you fall apart he thinks. he likes how you get when he takes it much slower than he needs too - how he drags you through one orgasm to another with this lithe. he lets you lean over his shoulder when he fingers you - and his two fingers stretch you out like four of your own.

his cock is big. bigger than you think any person could ever take. you stare at it for a long while, gaping at it. your hands barely fit around it and that image burns itself into ushijimas brain like a permanent memory. your mouth falls open and your eyes look hazy and ushijima thinks that he's never wanted to be inside of something so bad before.

"it's so big," ― you whisper, hoarse ― "i-it won't fit,"

"i'll make it fit," ― is his only reply, kissing the crown of your head ― "sit tight,"

he does, by the way. make it fit. he makes it fit good - makes it stretch your pussy out but you don't feel like you'll break. there's a little pressure inside, and your clit swells with desire and blood - but it fits. and his eyes are glued to the way your cute little cunt seems to be swallowing him like it's nothing. it's enough to make him lose his mind.

"c-can i move?"

you nod and he does. slow at first. he draws the noise from you - a slow and soft moan leaving your lips as he drags his cock in and out of you. but it gets faster, goes much faster than you thought it could.

eventually he has you bouncing in his lap, on his cock, with such force that you feel like you can't breathe. it feels unbelievable, sets off a supernova in your gut like at any moment you could come undone. you feel like you're breaking and ushijima doesn't help, soft grunts and whispered affections.

"you're so beautiful," and "im so happy" that make you feel dizzy. you'd probably give him anything he asks for. he bounces you on his cock and lets his thumb just rest on your clit and you're so close you can almost taste it.

"cum for me," ― like he's begging ― "please,"

what choice do you have anyways? you cum on his cock with a silent scream, like your voice is tearing a blackhole into space and you shudder while he holds you in place. he finishes only seconds afterwards.

"did it feel good?"

you give him a wide-eyed look. he's dense at times. you don't know how to hate him for it so you just sigh and nod, cozying to him.

"y..yeah,"

he kisses your forehead, sweaty and tired.

"good,"

yeah. you were right.

you never had a single chance of winning against him.

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#WHY DID THIS GET SO LONG WHAT THE FUCK #return to sender #ushijima x reader #haikyuu x reader #prettyboy.thirsts #formal #writing tag #IM GONNA BE SICK HOW DID THIS EVEN HAPPEN #haikyuu smut #ushijima smut

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sugurizz · 3 years

Text

The house is yours

Pairing : Zeke yeager x reader

Rating : explicit

Word count : 2,5k words

Summary : as a broke student, finding an apartment is not easy. But the cute owner decides to help you with it, in a way that you both get to benefit.

Warnings : soft dom! Zeke x sub!fem! reader, oral sex (fem receiving), fingering, nipple play, slight spit play, vaginal sex, slight breeding kink, daddy kink

(Credits to the owner. I don't own the fanart)

After months of looking through ads, websites and even newspapers. finding a decent, comfortable and cosy appartment near the university was a dream coming true. After calling the owner and fixing a date to meet toghether and check the place, your roommate wasn't able to make it to the appointment so you had to go there on my own.

Being already anxious for the meeting, you put a pair of black jeans, a grey t-shirt, a hoodie and your white sneakers before taking your backbag and going there.

After ten minutes or so, you were at the spot you agreed to meet at. You couldn't see anyone particular so you got your phone out of your pocket, ready to call the owner again in order to spot him.

It was then when you saw a tall, broad and handsome man- probably in his late twenties- picking his ringing phone from the pocket of his elegant beige trench coat.

A black turtleneck hugging his visibly muscular chest and arms left your mouth nearly open. That's definitely him - you thought to yourself - feeling your face already heating up, you swallowed hardly, prayed that you weren't really blushing, took your courage and crossed the road walking towards the little coffee shop he was standing next to.

Standing directly in front of him didn't help at all. You were so overwehlmed by him. and to be frank, you didn't really know where to look. His whole presence was doing things to you, is it His charming glance? his icy grey eyes, ornamented with a set of thick blonde lashes shinig softly in the feeble sunlight? Or is it those silky soft blonde locks, joined in a nice haircut making his enchanting appearence even more perfect and complete?

"Hello, I assume you're the new renter. Very nice to meet you. I'm zeke yeager ."

"Likewise, pleased to meet you mr yeager. I'm y/n ".

You tried your best to keep calm and professional by greeting him. But the trembling handshake you gave him was showing the complete opposite.

"Shall we go see the appartment ? This way please."

Were you too infatuated by such grace? Or is he really such a sweet, soft and courteous gentleman? You couldn't really tell.

You took a quick glance at his gorgeous profile side. And you completely wished you could take a screenshot with your eyes. His prominent cheekbones added to his manly features. And his fine silver glasses gave him that elegant intellectual aura.

The silence was broken by a deep, gentle :" so.. you're both students.. right?"

" yes. good thing the house is around 10 minutes from the university. That should save us plenty of time ."

" glad to hear that, I actually studied there for more than 6 years, that was before I finally graduated and decided to move to (city name) ."

" I see. May I ask.. why did you move? " you demanded.

" haha don't worry. It hasn't to do with the apartment. It's just that.. You can say I'm an adventurous man." He answered with a bright smile.

" right. I guess it's always tempting to move and see something new..."

You never thought a conversation with a total stranger could be this smooth, warm and relaxing. It unexpectedly didn't feel like a forced out, awkward smalltalk at all. But more like a nice and slow getting to know each other.

"We're finally here." He opened the building's door, Letting you inside and pressed the elevator button.

" I see you like the place already.." He affirmed, a soft smile graced his features, leaving you bewitched.

"Y-yes .. it's pretty welcoming." You added.

Getting out of the elevator, the cute owner took the apartement keys out, opening the door and letting you in.

After checking all the house's functionalities and facilities and discussing the period of your rent. You were ready to pay the first month of the stay until you got surprised by the deposit price. You were so shocked that you had to pay around two thousand five hundrend dollars along with the actual rent.

" I'm not sure we can actually afford that.. " I said, feeling somehow disappointed and lost.

" I know, a lot of people complain about the deposit price. I wish I could make an exeption but the price is fixed by the building's owner. He has the majority of control over that."

" and.. I guess it can't be payed in installments. can it ?"

" i'm afraid not." He retorted, quite concerned by your defeated aura.

" that's really infortunate. I was looking forward to settle here. But anyway, it was good getting to know you mr Yeager."

Hiding your frustration, you were ready to leave when his calm, reassuring voice stopped you . " maybe , we can help each other out after all..."

You turned back, looking for a further explanation when he carried on :" I can get to pay the deposit for you. And you'll have to give me a service in return.."

"okay.. and the service is ...? " you asked, being both curious and excited.

The blonde walked to the door and locked it, his silver eyes never leaving yours.

"Mr yeager..."

" Oh can we stop with the formalities now little one. If we finally agree to make a deal we should get more familiar to each other. Shouldn't we ?" He let out in a deep virile voice, causing your heart to throb numerous times.

Walking closer towards you, he stood and leaned over, whispering in your ear : " If I said I'm feeling sad and lonely today, Would you agree to entertain me ?"

He was so close you could barely register his request. Close enough to notice his irises fixed on yours, staring at your soul and then travelling a little downwards, presumably staring at your lips. You were ready to explode when his big hand landed on your chin, long slender fingers carressing it and driving you so crazy you started babbling some nearly inaudible nonsense.

" i mean.. I.I could ... I don't know.. I-"

" shh, no need to get confused, I'm here with you". a calloused thumb landed on your lips, caressing them with a gentle yet insisting motion.

Your mind shut down, leaving you comptelely blank. God, you got lost in his eyes again. You kept staring like an idiot, letting his thumb make its way through your lips and next thing you knew you were feeling his finger on your sensitive tongue. You never did this before. But why did it feel so natural with him ? Why didn't you resist at all ? How did you agree to this ? Questions kept bringing on other questions inside your crushed mind. The betraying heat kept rising to your cheeks by the minute, and you couldn't control your intense breathing anymore.

You felt like a fragile leaf caught in a storm. Your consciousness stopped reacting when his face started closing up to yours.

" I believe we got ourselves a deal then? "

" i.. I mean-"

The blonde's delicious lips crushed on yours in a swift motion, his huge hands left to pull you closer pushing you against his large warm chest and making you feel so small and helpless.

It didn't take long for you to feel his soft warm tongue playing with yours. His refreshing minty breath was mixed with a faint hint of cigarette. You couldn't help but enlace your arms around his neck, trying to regain some balance. The sloppy wet kiss you shared ended with your mouths parting in a wet noise, a glistening string of saliva connecting his dark red tongue to yours, Leaving you breathless.

"You're rather shy and blushy princess... I like it." Zeke leaned close to your sensitive neck, started peppering kisses from your cheeks down your neck and all around your clavicle . His warm breath on your exposed chest made you shiver, feeling your wetness already pooling between your legs. You started rubbing your thighs toghether in a search for some relief. The sudden thought of the rent crossed your mind again.

" Zeke .."

" yes sweetheart, say my name "

" what about the rent ... what should I do now ?"

"little pumpkin is still afraid." You trembled when he leaned over to lick your earlobe before carrying " consider this house yours, princess " .

You couldn't hide your relief after hearing his words. You looked back at him, the perfect pale skin of his cheeks turned into a lovely shade of pink. His cute ears were so red you thought they were about to blow off. His glasses were threatening to fall off the cute tip of his sharp nose. And you felt so proud seeing the mess you left at his golden strands. Some of them falling sexily on his eyes.

" I need this off" he tugged at your shirt , raising your arms gently and sliding it up your shivering body. It was so embarrassing you instantly hid your face. Letting out some insatisfied whines.

"gorgeous" he lets out, eyes contemplating your breasts, still hidden behind your bra. Still closing your eyes, you felt yourself being lifted in a bridal style. Zeke's strong arms placed you on the comfy couch of the living room. He stood up and took of his coat, throwing it away. His black pullover was next, revealing his toned chest, shredded abs and prominent V line . You wished you could keep this addictive view in yout mind forever. His godly body hovered around you like a shield. You leaned back , staring at the enchanting male before you, unbuckling his belt.

You were probabely too distracted by his beauty to notice the huge tent that was forming in his pants. His hand reached beneath his boxers, freeing his massive cock from it's confinements.

" like what you see ?" He winked at you, leaving you speaking gibberish again.

" zeke...it- it's not gonna .."

He cut you out, taking off your jeans in a quick move, leaving you in your black laced panties. " already soaked aren't we? What kind of a slut gets her pussy that wet just from a damn kiss?"

He rubbed his fingers against your clothed cunt before swiping your panties to the side. your clit was swollen and flushed, desperate for attention. The handsome male leaned until he faced your pussy. He spread your legs even wider, adding to your growing embarassment.

" goshh, look at how much slick is between your pussy lips,..filthy.." he slid his fingers between them.

Never leaving your innocent eyes, he puckered his lips, opened his mouth and spat on your naked pussy. You nearly passed out when he started french kissing it. Looking at it with such hunger and lust, he slid his longue tongue in your fluttering hole, driving his index and middle fingers in the process. His thick and now wet beard felt so good stinging your plush thighs.

" zeke ahhh, wait... omg zeke it feels.. Ahhhh " your moans started getting louder and louder.

"Whine for me baby.."

His experienced fingers massaged your spongey insides, hitting spots you never knew your pussy had. You were drooling like a dumb baby, eyes rolling to the back of your head and breath hitching in your breast.

"Zeeeeke.. uh- i'm ahh i'm gonna cum, it feels so good... so good i'm cumming .."

"Yes baby, cream on my fucking tongue."

It wasn't long until you released all over his hand, his tongue was painted with cum. He shamelessly swallowed it, licking his fingers passionately as if he was tasting an elixir. He leaned to kiss you again, cum and drool still running down his messy beard. Its cute hairs tickling your cheeks and chin made you chuckle.

He took your dripping panties away, threw them somewhere across the room and slid his hands below your back, unclasping your bra.

" I need to take it off, but I really do like the cute ribbons though..." he complimented your cute bra.

" t-thank youu.." the shyness creeped inside you again. But it was replaced with surprise when he buried his head deep between your breasts like a starving baby. growling and grunting, the vibrations sent shivers down your spine. He kept lapping at them, looking at you with burning lust, taking a nipple between his teeth and flicking the other under his fingerpads.

"Are you ready, sweet pie? Wanna take my cock for me ?"

"Y-yes"

"Yes who ?"

"Yes daddy ."

"It's daddy from now on, little one"

Feeling yourself , yu bent over for him, giving him a perfect view of your bare cunt.

" hurry daddy, I can't wait anymore..."

"As you wish, princess"

Within seconds, you felt his hands settling on your hips, his firm cock sliding slowly past your hungry hole.

" it hurtss, daddy .. it hurts..."

" shh, it's ok princess, you're too tense.. relax for daddy.."

The pain suddenly turned into a pure bliss as he bottomed down, making you moan his name like a lullaby.

"I'm going to move baby.." he said, cupping your cheek in his soft palms.

His cock was ramming inside you so deliciously you felt your drool dribbling again, his strong silhouette leaning on you, hugging you with one arm and caressing your stomach with the other. Seeing his bulge through your tummy, you felt so full and loved by him.

" look baby, look how deep i'm inside you"

" please cum inside me daddy, I want it pumping in my stomach ."

your words sent him to the edge; hitched breath, loud growls and harsh slaps landing on your ass. It felt so good your tears started gushing along your face.

" hnnghhh wanna take ... fuck ahhh .. take daddy's seed inside you ? Tell me slut " he squeezed your face between his large fingers, earning a whine from you.

" mmhmmm ... ahhhh"

" use your words when you talk to me"

" I want your cum deep inside me, daddy"

His thrusts became hysteric, making you shake. both of you moaning loudly, not caring about anybody hearing.

"Ahhhnghhh shiiiit , fuck yeaaah" the golden daddy came in thick white strings inside you. Shoving it all up your womb. You give up, letting your orgasm wash over you in a shameless moan. All your juices mixed with his sticky huge load, starting to spill from your greedy cunt.

Unable to move anymore, you collapsed on the couch. Trembling and breathing heavily. Zeke doing the same, he went to catch his neglected coat and wrapped it around your naked body, along with his strong arms around you, nuzzling his head in your neck.

" I guess having an expensive rent has its perks after all". He teased, laying a soft gentle kiss on your forehead.

" yup, you get to have a daddy for free". You whispered.

Note : I would really appreciate the feedback on my work so feel free to comment down.

#zeke yeager #zeke jäger #zeke jeager #zeke jeager x reader #zeke yeager smut #zeke yeager x reader #zeke yeager imagine #zeke thirst #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #aot #aot smut #fics #snk #zeke x reader #icymi

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reinvent-and-believe · 4 years

Note

48 from dialogue prompts + 50 from wordless i-love-yous for geraskier?

Dialogue Prompt 48: “You make me want things I can’t have.” Wordless I-love-you 50: buying them a special treat when you go out shopping

It catches Geralt’s eye while he haggles over an outrageously priced jar of alchemy paste with a none-too-impressed herbalist on the outskirts of Novigrad, a buxom widow with thick-braided auburn hair by the name of Irmina.

“This for sale too?” He picks up the brooch from the countertop where it rests in a beam of golden light streaming through a dingy window. He examines it. It’s simple enough metalwork, a brass oval with a scalloped edge, but inlaid in its face is a single pressed yellow flower framed by tiny white blooms encased in resin.

The herbalist’s dour demeanour brightens immediately. “It is indeed!” she answers, her brown eyes shining in a plump, suddenly pleasant face. “Made it myself just last week. It’s something of a hobby of mine, making pretty knick-knacks from the flowers we can’t sell. Got plenty more like this if you’d like to peruse ‘em, master witcher! Forget-me-nots and arenaria, hellebore, violets, any flower you might like.”

A buttercup, he realizes belatedly. That’s the yellow flower in the center.

“No.” He sees Irmina’s brow furrow in offense, so he hastens to appease her. “No need, I’ll take this one. I...I’m partial to buttercups.”

Her freckled face breaks into a sly, knowing smile. “Oh, aye, I’m sure someone is partial to buttercups.” She winks, waving away his stammered attempts at an answer. “Never you mind, I know a man besotted when I see one, and it seems a witcher’s not so different. Tell you what. Fifty crowns for the paste and I’ll throw the brooch in for only ten.”

Leaving the herbalist’s shop with an overpriced paste, a lighter purse, and a useless trinket, Geralt curses himself for a fool.

He’s not sure why he bought it.

He knows buttercups are Jaskier’s favorite, of course. “None but the noblest of flowers for my sobriquet!” Jaskier had squawked indignantly when Geralt once made the grave mistake of referring to the pesky things as weeds after he’d stopped Roach from chomping on a patch of the bright, poisonous blooms.

They are weeds, buttercups. They serve no function. They can’t be used in any of the potions, decoctions, or oils Geralt brews, nor do they have any particularly helpful curative properties for humans.

“As ever, my dear witcher, you have no sense of poetry,” Jaskier had sighed in a most put-upon voice when told as much. “Their function is they’re pretty. Their function is to enrich our lives through the beauty of the natural world.” He’d looked to the sky, tip of his tongue between his teeth showing through his frown as was his custom when puzzling through the right way to turn a phrase. “From a strictly utilitarian perspective, perhaps the buttercup has less value than, say, moleyarrow, or verbena, or chamomile, even. Some plants provide nutritional or medicinal or alchemical qualities of various sorts. But some exist to make life worth living! To transform the banal into the sublime.” He’d plucked a buttercup from the roadside, twirling it between his long fingers. “It’s graceful and balanced, effortlessly beautiful. It’s vibrant, bright like...like sunlight, on a summer afternoon! And when you see it growing alongside the various and sundry flora, it fills you with the loveliest burst of warmth, like a lover’s smile.”

“So...it’s a pretty weed.”

“You’re incorrigible, witcher, that’s what you are.” Jaskier had huffed dramatically before tucking the buttercup behind Geralt’s ear, his face alight with a delighted grin.

Like sunlight on a summer afternoon.

The Kingfisher Inn is crowded when Geralt arrives. He goes to the bar, orders an ale from Olivier, and leans against the counter to take a look at the stage.

Jaskier loves playing the Kingfisher. In many of the inns he plays across the Continent, he’s relegated to a corner to try to sing over the clang of dinner, his only option to win the common folk over a raucous drinking song or a filthy ditty. And while the bard doesn’t shy away from such vulgarities, the patrons of the Kingfisher tend to be of a more artistically inclined ilk, responding with appropriate gusto to the virtuosic art songs that he rarely performs outside of competitions or Oxenfurt.

Or so he’d explained to Geralt when he’d suggested they meet up at the inn.

Jaskier sits atop a tall stool on a rather large stage framed by crimson curtains, his sky-blue doublet a vivid contrast. The audience, enraptured, listens to his ballad, a melancholy tale of a fair maiden who’s violently killed before she can profess her love to a farmhand in her village, a beautiful, strong, kind man whose hair shines like a blaze of pale fire in the sunlight. Her love for him tethers her to this world, and her spirit—bitter, weary, and endlessly yearning—calls the men working in the fields to join her dance at midday, when the sun is in its zenith, hoping against hope for the chance to finally confess to her beloved.

In the end, the brave, noble farmhand sacrifices himself, hoping to stop the spirit’s killings by listening to her song and joining her as she beckons. And as they are reunited, as she finally kisses the lips she’s longed for in a blinding blaze of sunlight, they pass on together, their spirits becoming one.

It’s a contract Geralt worked a few years ago, a noonwraith outside Oreton—or at least something close. As ever, Jaskier has taken artistic liberties, romanticized the actual events (“Sometimes, in our pursuit of Truth, we must sacrifice the facts,” Jaskier loftily explained on more than one occasion. He seemed quite taken with the profundity he seemed to find in the statement. Geralt called it pretentious once and Jaskier hurled a chunk of bread at his head). Once it might have bothered Geralt, but he’s grown accustomed to Jaskier’s rather malleable relationship with veracity in his ballads. There’s no denying the impact of his storytelling: when Geralt glances around the inn, he sees several patrons discreetly dabbing at their eyes.

It’d been an ugly case, leaving him feeling empty, drained. Noonwraiths haunt his thoughts far longer than most the monsters he dispatches. They’re victims of circumstance more than anything, young women who’ve been transformed into bloodthirsty, violent spirits through no fault of their own, through the violence inflicted upon them. Nearly forty men had fallen prey to her before the farmhand distracted her with his kiss—though Geralt would hesitate to classify his grotesque, gruesome sacrifice as such—so the witcher had a chance to strike her down with silver. Jaskier has spun the miserable tale into something beautiful, moving, something that clearly resonates with his captivated audience, that speaks to a greater force at work than the chaotic, banal evils the witcher sees every day, and Geralt thinks he understands, for a moment, what the bard had told him of Truth and facts.

(Geralt doesn’t know what greater Truth is served by changing the beloved farmhand’s hair from the dull brown it really was to “a blaze of pale fire,” but then, Geralt’s not a poet.)

The final notes hang in the air, all eyes fixed on Jaskier for a rapt, breathless moment before the room bursts into wild applause. Jaskier stands and bows deeply, once, twice, a third time, surveying the room as he offers his thanks. When his gaze catches Geralt at the bar, his expression of showman’s grace vanishes, a flash of something that looks almost alarmed for a split second before it’s replaced by a small, gentle smile.

Geralt nods and raises his mug toward the stage in cheers, draining the remainder. Jaskier is quickly swept into the swarm of captivated fans, accepting their praises with a gracious, if distracted, smile.

The witcher turns back to the barkeep to order himself another ale along with a glass of wine.

“Geralt!” Jaskier swerves to avoid a near-collision with a frenzied barmaid on his way to join his companion at the bar. He grabs the wine glass with a groan of appreciation, taking a swig before asking, “Is this for me? Gods, but you’re a marvel, darling, I thank you.” He takes another sip and sends a disarming, roguish wink to a pair of girls staring at him and giggling to each other. “I wasn’t sure when you’d arrive, but it wouldn’t have mattered, I suppose, they only had one room to let when I checked in and it hasn’t cleared out since. You’ll share mine, of course, but I’ve been here a week so, you know, best brace yourself, I’ve quite made the place my own.”

Geralt snorts. He’s stayed in enough rooms that Jaskier has made his own over the past decade to predict with some certainty what mess he’ll soon venture into.

(Doublets draped over furniture after they’ve been discarded; crumpled sheets of paper tossed near, never in the fireplace; a few near-empty bottles of wine; a shirt hung to dry over the modesty screen between the sleeping and bathing areas; bottles of a dozen oils and perfumes and soaps scattered haphazard near the tub; an unmade bed that may well contain an abandoned undergarment or forgotten stocking left by some well-satisfied guest.)

“Have you eaten? Shall we? I’m starved, felt jittery all afternoon and didn’t eat a damned thing which was all well and good until I got onstage and suddenly wished for a fainting couch. Or we could take your things up to the room first, of course. Oh! We could have them bring our dinner up to us, it’s awfully crowded down here tonight and I’m not sure I’m up to socializing all evening, to be honest, I’ve been dreadfully out of sorts, did you notice, Geralt, that I’ve…”

Jaskier continues his ramblings, and the witcher can’t help a twinge of worry for his friend. It’s not unheard of for Jaskier to be in a heightened state over a particularly important performance, but usually afterwards the nerves dissipate and he seems more himself. Not to mention, why would playing in an inn prompt such anxieties? Even if the Kingfisher clientele trends toward the more refined than the country folk he often plays for, it’s still rather a low-stakes environment to trigger such stress.

“New song?” he asks casually. Jaskier always beams when he notices such things, when he makes an effort to ask about his music.

Instead, Jaskier blushes, looking away with an expression that almost seems guilty. “Ah, yes, well, I wasn’t certain when you’d be arriving, of course, I thought I might try out something different, a sort of test audience, as it were, to feel out the piece before I use it for anything important.” The look he’s fixed on Geralt seems almost wary. “Did you...like the song?”

Geralt shrugs. “Not quite how it happened,” he grumbles, out of habit more than anything.

A smile, genuine and rueful, breaks out on Jaskier’s face. “Gods, I’ve missed you, my friend,” he says, shaking his head and looking away quickly.

“Hmm.” He reaches quickly into the coin pouch at his side, thrusting the trinket from the herbalist into Jaskier’s hand with a brusque, “Here.”

“Whatever have we got…” He cuts off as opens his palm. “Oh.”

There have been so few times over the years that Geralt has seen Jaskier speechless that he begins to worry he’s offended him. He turns the brooch over in his hands, once, twice, his thumb swiping gently over its smooth enamel face. He doesn’t look up.

Even in the crowded room, Geralt can smell the shift in his demeanor, the muted sickly-sweet anxious smell becoming something sharp, metallic, pained, like he’s been stabbed. “You’re upset.”

“I...no.” Jaskier shoves the brooch into his trouser pocket, a tense smile on his face, not at all reaching his eyes. “Thank you, Geralt, it’s lovely. Shall we take your bags to the room now?”

“I didn’t...I didn’t get it to upset you.”

Jaskier laughs, a broken thing, and Geralt grows even more alarmed. “You didn’t, it isn’t that, sometimes I want things I can’t have is all.” He grabs the saddlebag sitting at Geralt’s feet, not meeting his eyes as he rushes past him up the stairs to the last bedroom in the hall.

Geralt follows after a moment, giving his companion a respectful distance. There’s a tightness in his shoulders, a knot in his gut that only grows as he watches Jaskier’s hand tremble on the key as he unlocks the door.

It was a stupid idea. He knew it was stupid when he bought it, yet he bought it anyway, somehow ruined everything anyway.

“Here we are.” Jaskier’s voice is filled with a forced cheer as he sets the bag down, hand never leaving the doorknob. “I’ll go fetch us some supper. Or, actually, you know, now that I think of it, I’ve a few errands to run before it gets too late, meant to do it earlier but you know how it goes, lost track of time…”

“Jaskier.” Geralt moves toward him but stops himself, helpless. “Please. I’m sorry I upset you.”

Jaskier stands in the doorway for another moment. He takes a deep breath, closes the door, and walks slowly to the writing desk in the corner. He pulls the chair out, moving the doublet strewn across it before sitting. He doesn’t look at Geralt.

“You didn’t.” Every word is calculated, deliberate. “What kind of ungrateful wretch gets upset over...over an exceptionally thoughtful gift from a friend after a time apart?”

Geralt sits on the edge of the bed. His elbows rest on his knees, fingers locking together as he stares at the floor. “You’re not a wretch. The fault is mine.”

“Dammit, Geralt, there isn’t fault, I only—why did you bring me a gift?”

Geralt frowns. “I’ve bought you things before,” he says slowly.

“Things, yes!” Jaskier vaults from the chair, pacing listlessly about the room, no longer trying to mask his inexplicable distress. “Lute strings when I broke a string and I was low on coin. The lute is my livelihood, it made financial sense for you to replace the string so I could pull my own weight, help you when we pass through several towns in a row with no contracts. Boots when you noticed the hole in the heel of my old pair, because I slow you down limping about in footwear that’s falling apart. Room and board, sometimes, because you know I’m good for it, I’ll cover you the next time.” He’s stopped pacing, stares silent into the fireplace.

“Wasn’t keeping a tab.” Geralt’s voice is quiet. “You needed strings and boots and food and a room.”

Jaskier doesn’t turn to face him, but Geralt sees his hand slip into his pocket, pull out the brooch. His head bends, studying it.

He’s not offended or annoyed or angered by the gift. He’s hurt. But why?

Except...

Jaskier looked guilty when Geralt brought up the song. Like he’d been caught red-handed. Did you like it? he’d asked. Incredulous.

The noonwraith singing her song in hopes that her beloved hears her confession. That he’ll hear her song of longing and come to her.

Hair like a blaze of pale fire, not dull brown.

Sometimes I want things I can’t have.

“Geralt?”

The witcher snaps back to attention, eyes fixed on Jaskier, finally facing him.

“Why did you get it for me, Geralt?”

Geralt frowns. “It’s...pretty,” he starts lamely. “I thought you might wear it when you play. You wear gaudy things.”

Jaskier snorts, a small, crooked grin on his lips.

“It made me think of you,” he confesses quietly, his eyes tracing the wood grain of the floor. “Sometimes...things don’t have to have a function. It was a buttercup and it was pretty and it…made me think of you.”

When Geralt dares to raise his eyes, Jaskier’s staring at him, brows drawn together and mouth slightly agape. After a moment, he walks toward the witcher, sitting carefully beside him on the bed. He reaches his hand towards Geralt’s and presses the little brooch into his palm.

“Will you pin it on me?” he asks softly.

Geralt nods.

His fingers feel thick and clumsy as he fumbles with the delicate clasp. The top few buttons of Jaskier’s doublet, as ever, are undone, but it closes neatly just beneath his exposed neck. Geralt slips a finger beneath the satin fabric to pull it away from his throat, cautiously piercing the fabric with the thin pin and sliding it into its slot, locking the clasp with shaking hands.

His hand doesn’t move from Jaskier’s chest. A sword-calloused thumb, seemingly of its own volition, grazes lightly over the bobbing Adam’s apple.

“Geralt.”

He looks up, almost pulls away but for the flushed cheeks, the tongue that darts out to wet pink lips, the hooded eyes beneath dark lashes fixed on Geralt’s mouth. Jaskier’s breath is warm against his face. When did they draw so close?

“Are you going to kiss me, Geralt?” The breathy whisper is laced with wonder.

And he didn’t...didn’t buy the brooch to entice Jaskier into anything, didn’t mean to solicit any sort of reward, and he opens his mouth to tell him so, yet as his rough hand moves to gently cup the back of Jaskier’s neck the words that tumble out instead are, “I’d like to.”

And Jaskier throws back his head and laughs, a euphoric, intoxicated sound, as his lovely hands cradle Geralt’s face. He brings his forehead to rest against Geralt’s as they still, breathing each other for a moment before Jaskier surges forward to capture his lips.

His kiss tastes like sunlight.

#geraskier #geralt x jaskier #the witcher fic #the witcher #my fic #anon asks #prompt fill #thank you so much for this absolutely lovely prompt!!!!! i'm so sorry it took me months to actually filling it!!!

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ilcaeryx · 3 years

Text

Cultist [Sukuna/Reader] - NSFW

Summary: You have one god on this earth.

Tags: Sukuna/Reader, NSFW, Smut, Humor, Size kink, Cock Warming, Body Worship,

Words: Cirka 2k

Author’s Note: What’s up, sluts? I’m back. This is NSFW, so beware.

---

Sukuna did regularly mention that domination and conquest were his pastime hobbies and you would tentatively add that he adhered to them with slave-like zealotry. Whenever he insulted Itadori Yuji by calling him simple-minded, your heart ached with the desire to tell him that he was not any greater regarding his obsessions with strength. However, your self-preservation kept you alive, since a bitch that talks back to Sukuna is a bitch that gets their head separated from their body, after all.

Having sex with Sukuna is somehow leagues safer than speaking to him, you thought, gaze surveying how the apex of his back muscles cast shades upon the trenches of his spine. Inhalation, the shadows grew and deepened. Exhalation, the light re-conquered its territory. You suspected he never slept, even though he physically seemed in deep slumber. His arms were splayed on his pillow, face turned away from you.

You had self-preservation to save your ass 99 percent of the time – this time was probably that one percent where he would snap.

“Sukuna,” you called out, very lightly stroking his biceps with your nails. No answer, but his arm muscles flexed subtly as he moved his arm. “I want my side of the bed back. I can’t sleep on this side.”

You let out a shriek when his hand shot out at you, palm plastered over your lips. The sharp edge of his index nail hovered uncomfortably close to your eye, the thumb nail piercing your cheek. Out of reflex, your dug your fingertips into his upper arm and attempted to pull away from his show of force.

Sukuna turned his head to face you. His eyes glared with disinterest, though his grasp weakened slightly.

“You’ve been plenty loud during the night; why must you continue now?” he asked, squeezing your cheeks together to allow you to speak.

“I’ve slept like three hours max,” you said, ignoring his question.

“That is not my problem.” He let go of your face to return to his original position. “Go find somewhere else to sleep and I shall wake you whenever I have need of you.”

What an absolute dickhead. This was your bed, not his domination playground.

You released him and patted your face with your fingers carefully. There were no stinging scratches left behind, which was good considering his reasoning that if ‘you weren’t bleeding out, you didn’t need help’ would leave you with annoying scabs everywhere. Why you were even fucking this guy was beyond you, honestly. This was one of the top 3 worst life choices you had ever made.

You slid towards him beneath the covers and supported your upper body with your ribcage on his lower back and elbows on his upper back. His body heat intermingling with yours gave you a dull ache, from behind your breastbone flowing into a tidepool in the pit of your stomach. After pushing your hair to one side of your neck, you lowered yourself onto him. Your lips wet and breath hot across his skin, you blew softly before planting a kiss below his shoulder blade. Had it been another person under you, you would have had the gratification of seeing goosebumps forming across the area.

“Sukuna…” you said, barely audible between his skin and your lips.

The King of Curses arose from his relaxed position. “Did you not listen or are you an idiot?”

“Bit of both, to be perfectly honest.” You pinched a tuft of his hair strands between two fingers, pulling gently. “You don’t need to do anything – I just want your attention.”

He issued you a warning glare, daring you to pull some weird shit on him.

You shrugged one of your shoulders and gave him a lopsided smile. “It’s not like I can hurt you, right? I don’t have sharp claws.” To testify, you released his hair, buried your nails below his neck and dragged them down his back in one stroke. Four faint lines were left behind, a stylistic contrast to his dark markings. “I don’t have superhuman strength or speed.” You felt the muscular ridges above his ribs, your fingers travelling up and down each rib. “At my worst, I’m just very obnoxious.”

“How self-aware,” he mocked and laughed half-heartedly. He seemed to enjoy your tiny monologue, judging by the slight raise of his eyebrows. “Continue.”

His approval increased your confidence. While you scoured your brain for whatever concept that might amuse or interest him, you broke eye contact and directed your thumb to pad the black line running along his back. You followed it up to the crest of his shoulders and pulled yourself up over his torso. A low growl hummed beneath you, indicating that perhaps you were pushing your luck. When you brought your left hand down his chest the sound reverberated through your being, reminding you that you were not the apex predator in here. His eagerness showed as he willingly moved his hand into your range when you struggled to reach it.

“Look,” you said, just as eager to sate his curiosity, “at the difference.”

With his attention on your hand enveloping his, you settled your head on his shoulder, finally eye to eye with the King of Curses. You shifted so that your palms met. Even when ignoring his nails, his long fingers and thick wrist eclipsed yours. Finger pads with rough callouses created in combat, the evidence of a reign of lasting a millennium. You could feel the wisdom beneath your soft pads; you could’ve devoted your entire life to warfare and your hands would still not understand it the way his do.

“You know, I never used to consider myself a small person,” you lied, your voice perfectly stable, “but now I am not so sure anymore. It is quite overwhelming.”

Sukuna’s head tilted towards yours, almost tenderly grazing his cheek against your jawline. The movement gave you shivers, causing your toes to curl. You had no option but trusting his self-control when he dove below your jaw and put his lips to your neck. He sucked the flesh between his lips, occasionally tasting with his tongue.

You sighed, content for the brief attention you had earned. Sukuna’s heartbeat rate did not increase nor decrease beneath your hand, his chest just as firm. He detached from your neck, his saliva cooling down that particular spot. You were on the brink of complaining when the world swirled around and your back hit the mattress, your chest and stomach feeling the room’s chill without Sukuna’s body heat.

Sukuna was not playing around anymore; he aligned his forearms beside your face and blocked off whatever else existed outside with his mere presence, lips taut and eyes alert. He situated his torso on top of yours and separated your thighs with his knee. Not close enough to grind on.

“Tell me more,” he stared you down. “What does being completely outmatched feel like?”

You wondered if he meant how it physically felt or how the emotional part of being outmanned and outgunned felt like. Considering how his empathic ability was low-functioning to non-existing, you wanted to bet your money on a physical description… Yet, your tongue prepared to tell him about the terror and the uncertainty. It was not wise to divulge such details to Sukuna.

Scheherazade’s silver tongue might have saved her life a thousand and one times but not everyone’s talent was located in their mouth cavity. Like always, your hands bought you more time to think, to evaluate your words. You tentatively reached for his collarbones before changing your mind and guiding one hand to his lips. Perhaps he had meant to kiss your fingertips, perhaps he had yet another inquiry but his lower lip separated from his upper one and you cautiously pulled it downwards. A predator’s teeth greeted you.

“I can’t say it without sounding lame,” you said and crossed your arms across your chest. “Don’t laugh.”

Almost immediately, Sukuna leaned his weight on one forearm, allowing him to use the other to restrain your hand against the mattress. “I assure you,” he said, his eyes staring lazily at you, lids half-down, “you are not that funny.”

Suddenly, you wished Itadori Yuji would regain his consciousness to not have to deal with this asshole. Kind, encouraging Yuji would worship your existence. Perhaps you would eventually have learned to worship him in turn. ‘Learning’ being the key word, of course. You would fumble in the dark while attempting to appreciate him. This seemed like a good idea for about three seconds and then you returned to your occult god.

“I want to be inside you.” Sukuna, no longer interested in your thoughts, showed more interest in your body. He seldomly spoke of his wants, rousing your curiosity and – honestly – your arousal. The thigh between your leg shifted closer to your mound, touching your nether lips softly.

“You’re so demanding,” you complained, ending your sentence with a deep sigh. “You want me to be quiet, you want me to talk, you want to be inside me – will you ever be satisfied?”

You rolled your hips upwards in a slow movement, enjoying yourself as your lips parted against his flesh. It did not please you enough, so you continued to alleviate yourself.

“No.” His voice was unusually quiet. His lower lip brushed yours as he spoke. “Do you think you deserve it?”

You moved your chin downwards, the movement nearly imperceptible for someone who was not expecting it.

“I agree… if it’ll keep you quiet,” he said, releasing your arm to steady himself above you.

And you did keep quiet. Although he remained stone-faced, Sukuna seemed attentive to the way you opened your mouth and frowned in frustration, his crimson gaze traversing across your face.

He angled his hips downwards, pressuring your clit as you ground against him. You had never been more thankful for the things he did than when he let you use his body as a tool to get off. Each upwards motion elected a pang of pleasure, a beach in ebb and flow.

You don’t know for how long he tolerated your grinding but your lower body ached and his thigh was slick with your fluid when he removed his leg from you, its absence pulsating throughout your stomach. Despite your fear that he would push you away, you grabbed onto his neck to heave yourself against him, anything to regain that comfort. The relief that accompanied the heartbeat after he brought you up with him to sit upright lightened your entire being. His hands felt excruciatingly hot, almost unbearably so, on your ribcage.

Although you felt ready for him, your grip on his neck remained hard as he lifted you up above his cock. Sukuna descended you slightly, his tip bulging at your entrance. You knew your limit and didn’t hesitate to sink onto him, a movement less gentle than you wished due to your legs being wrapped around his waist. Your breath was uneven, hitching up whenever you strained against him. Avoiding getting your insides impaled by a guy’s dick was surprisingly hard labour. Eventually you settled at his base, a sense of completion glowing off you.

There were no comforting touches or encouraging words from Sukuna, whose tranquil expression made him seem more like Yuji than himself. His eyes almost shut, jaw relaxed... This was the alternate universe version of Sukuna, a man who did not lust for domination and who would settle down with his loved ones for an eventless life.

Hearing your dumb fantasies echo in your head, you rubbed your eyes with your knuckles until you saw stars. What idiocy. You had to cease these daydream scenarios or you’d be in deep shit in the future. You were an atrocious cultist.

---

I hope everyone enjoyed this. If you liked this, please give a comment/like/reblog. I listened to the Professor Tox remix of LOONA’s Girl Front and Ariana Grande’s Love Me Harder while writing this.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #sukuna x reader #sukuna smut #sukuna #jjk #jjk reader insert

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