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theostrophywife · 3 months

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poison paradise.

pairing: theodore nott x reader.

song inspiration: toxic by omido.

author's note: smutty unhinged theo won the poll. here’s your silly little treat. this came to me in a dream proving that even my subconscious isn't safe from theodore. this is pure filth, but ya'll already know that that's what i do best 🤪

The taste of cherry chapstick lingered on your tongue as your eyes rolled to the back of your head. Lost in euphoria, you cried out just as a wave of pleasure crashed over you, dragging you to the depths of sensual self-indulgence.

Back arching off the bed. Fingers gripping the sheets. Moans echoing off the walls.

This was hedonism at its finest.

The heady scent of sweat, skin, and sex permeated in the air long after your orgasm passed, inducing you into a foggy haze as you scrambled to anchor yourself back to the present. Between your legs, your girlfriend lifted her head up with a pleased smirk and pressed a chaste kiss against your lips.

The kiss tasted like cum and cherries, a sweet and intoxicating combination that sent your head spinning. Hannah hummed, her pretty doe eyes focused on you while your own fluttered open.

“Babe, I’ve really got to get to practice now,” she whispered softly. “I’m late enough as it is.”

You chuckled, twirling a strand of her red hair between your fingers. “Whose fault is that? You’re the one who dragged me in here, love.”

Hannah grinned sheepishly as she pulled your red and gold skirt down. “Can you blame me? I can’t control myself when you’re strutting about in your cheer uniform.”

“Then go out there and give me something to cheer about, babe. I expect a win against Slytherin tomorrow.”

��If Potter doesn’t kill me first for being late,” she said with a final kiss to your cheek. “See you after practice?”

You nodded as you tossed her jersey over. “I’ll be here.”

After taking a much needed shower, you sat in front of the vanity and blasted music as you diligently adhered to your skincare routine. The best thing about having a girlfriend was that you shared everything. Since dating Hannah, your makeup, clothes, and shoe options doubled overnight.

As you combed through your hair, a sudden knock at the door caught your attention. You figured it was just a courtesy from Hannah’s roommate. Merlin knows that the poor witch had walked in on you and your girlfriend in countless compromising positions.

Tightening the scarlet robe around your waist, you sauntered over to the door, fully expecting Emma to greet you from the other side. Instead, a looming figure eclipsed the doorway. You were surprised to find none other than Theodore Nott staring back at you.

While you two weren’t exactly the best of friends given the rivalry between your houses, you and Theo were civil. You sat beside each other in Herbology and occasionally shared a laugh every time you caught him muttering sarcastic remarks under his breath about the ridiculous bloody plants that Professor Sprout had you wrangling during class.

“Well, what do we have here?” you teased, cocking your head at the dead eyed Slytherin. “A serpent in the lion’s den? What brings you behind enemy lines, Theo?”

Theo smiled back in response, shuffling a bit and allowing a glimpse of the wine bottle and bouquet of roses cradled in his arms. “Waiting for my girlfriend to leave so I can set this up for our anniversary.”

You grinned. “Oh, how romantic!” You had always been a sucker for cheesy gestures. It was the hopeless romantic in you. “Come in, then.”

To his credit, Theo kept his eyes firmly on your face as you ushered him inside the room. Taking the hint, you quickly excused yourself to the bathroom and changed into something a little less revealing than your silk robe. When you came out, Theo was sprinkling rose petals on the bed.

“Those are gorgeous,” you fawned over the flowers. “You’re definitely getting laid tonight.”

Theo smirked in response as he set the vintage wine bottle into a fancy crystal ice bucket. “That’s the plan.”

Slipping into your fuzzy slippers, you cocked your head at the arrangement. “Wait. I think you set it up on the wrong side. Emma’s bed is over there.”

Theo nodded absentmindedly. “Yeah, I know. This is for Hannah.”

Whatever warm, fuzzy feeling his sweet gesture invoked suddenly soured at the mention of your girlfriend’s name. “What do you mean it’s for Hannah?”

“Hannah,” Theo repeated slowly. “As in, my girlfriend, Hannah.”

The words hit you like the Hogwarts Express. Surely, Theo was mistaken. He had to be. That was the only explanation. “This can’t be right. I’m sure I heard you wrong. You can’t be dating Hannah.”

The confusion in your face was mirrored in Theo’s features. “And why is that?”

“Because I’m dating Hannah.”

Theo stared at you. You stared back. The room fell silent as the declaration hung heavy in the air.

“Wait,” he backtracked, furrowing his brows. “What? That’s not possible.”

“We’ve been dating since term started.”

“We’ve been dating since summer,” Theo countered. Disbelief dawned over his handsome features. “This is for our three month anniversary.”

Desperate to make sense of the situation, you pulled out your phone and scrolled through your photo album. It didn’t take long to find a recent picture of you and Hannah. “See?” you said, pointing at the screen. “This is us sharing a hot fudge sundae in Hogsmeade just last weekend.”

Theo’s mouth gaped open as he pulled out his phone in response, scrolling through his pictures just as you had done moments ago. “This is us swimming in the lake last July.”

The photo of your girlfriend smiling up at the camera while Theo’s arms wrapped around her bikini clad body made your stomach plummet. The confirmation left a bitter taste on your tongue. There was no reason for Theo to be making this up, which left only one possible conclusion. Hannah was dating both of you. At the same time.

You pursed your lips. “Hannah played us both.”

Theo looked about as dejected as you felt. “I can’t believe I didn’t realize it,” he muttered to himself.

“All that tension between you during the quidditch match,” you recalled. The lingering looks that Hannah and Theo shared during last month’s scrimmage flashed before your very eyes. In hindsight, it was obvious that there was more to it than rivalry.

“You know, I think I saw her kiss you on the cheek in the halls once, but she said that the two of you were just really close.”

“Oh, we are,” you said rather bitterly. “She’s kissed a lot more than my cheeks. Gods, how could I have been so stupid?”

“You’re not stupid,” Theo said softly. “How could we have known? Outside of Herbology, the two of us don’t really interact. We’re in different houses and our social circles rarely overlap. If you think about it, it’s actually the perfect plan.”

“Yes, bravo to our girlfriend for being the cleverest fucking liar in the castle.” You winced at the title. "Correction, ex-girlfriend."

Nott nodded in agreement. "Definitely ex-girlfriend."

"What a bloody mess."

Theo rubbed his temples. “Well, fuck.” The sentiment of total and utter confusion was one you knew all too well. “I am way too sober for this.”

Without a word, he swiped the bottle of wine from the crystal bucket and popped it open. You stared at him with slight bewilderment, which he responded to with a nonchalant shrug. “What? It’s not like I’m going to drink this with Hannah now after I found out that she’s been lying to me for three whole months.”

While Theo was taking the perfectly understandable approach of getting absolutely pissed off his arse, you weren’t willing to take the hit so easily. You were angry. Correction, you were fucking livid. Seething in the heat of your fury, you snatched the wine bottle from Theo’s grasp and chugged a good amount.

“That’s a vintage from my family’s vineyard. You’re supposed to sip slowly to really appreciate the flavor—“ Theo grimaced as you leveled him with a glare. “Or drown yourself in it. That’s fine, too.”

You swayed on your feet as you gestured dramatically. “I can’t believe she cheated on me!”

Who the fuck did Hannah think she was? You didn’t need this bullshit. She was the one who chased after you. Before she pursued you, you were perfectly fine ruling this school under your thumb, flashing pretty smiles and innocent doe eyed looks to the unsuspecting masses. You were head cheerleader, for fuck’s sake! You could’ve had your pick of boys and girls in this whole bloody castle. Even worse, Hannah dragged Theo into this too. While the Slytherins certainly had a reputation, he seemed sweet if not a little sardonic and cynical at times.

”I can’t believe she cheated on you.” You added, surveying the now tainted roses and wine. Indignation weighed heavily on every word. You and Theo were both hot as fuck and a complete catch. Neither of you deserved this. “We can’t let her get away with this.”

Theo sighed in response, taking the bottle from you and drinking a decent amount before wiping his wine stained lips with the back of his hand. “If I’m being honest, this isn’t the first time a relationship has imploded on me. Usually, it’s my fault. But I can’t say I’ve ever gotten cheated on. My ego’s taken a little bit of a blow, but what can we do? She fooled us both.”

“What can we do?” You repeated incredulously. “Obviously, you haven’t dealt with a Gryffindor’s wrath before. This is a matter of pride, Theo. She hit us where it hurts the most. I say we hit her back.”

Theo blanched, his watercolor eyes glazed from the alcohol. The wine was no joke. You never would’ve known it from the smooth taste, but this shit was strong. “As upset as I am, I hardly think violence is the answer. My mum told me to never raise a hand against a lady and I don’t intend on breaking that promise. No matter how angry I may be.”

For the first time in that fucked up night, you managed a laugh. Something about that was so endearing to you. “Relax, Nott. I don’t mean we hurt her physically. That’s not really my style. I have a much more effective way to enact revenge.” Your lips curled into a smile as Theo hung onto every word. “We’re going to wage psychological warfare on our ex-girlfriend, Theo.”

“I’ll confess I’m a little bit scared,” Theo declared as he gulped down the last of the wine. “And a little bit turned on. Guess that says a lot about me, huh?”

You smirked as you retrieved the wine bottle and gingerly set it on the nightstand. Theo glanced up at you curiously, anticipation evident on his handsome face. “What exactly is the plan, dolcezza?”

Whether it was the alcohol or your anger, a devious plan started forming as you looked over your ex-girlfriend’s now ex-boyfriend. “Hannah comes back from practice in an hour,” you stated, toying with the neck of the bottle. “She’s expecting to find me in bed waiting for her.”

Mischief danced in Theo’s eyes. Up close, you could see flecks of green swimming in his blue irises. Those mesmerizing eyes—the very same ones that had the entire castle weak in the knees—locked on yours. Now that you were single through no fault of your own, you had no reason not to ogle Theo and ogle you did. Your gaze flickered over his lean physique, examining his solid chest and broad shoulders before snagging on the sliver of skin that revealed the hard abdominal muscles beneath his light grey shirt as he stretched. A cocky smirk graced his handsome face when he caught you looking.

Merlin, he was fucking pretty.

How had you not noticed that before? Oh, right. You were too busy being a good girlfriend. Well, fuck that.

“Oh?” He murmured, his gaze flickering over you.

Though you changed into a baggy shirt and cotton shorts, you might as well have been naked with the way Theo was looking at you. His dead eyed stare burned holes into your skin and a shiver crawled up your spine as he gravitated closer.

“And she will,” you said with a smirk, closing the gap between you. “You’ll just be in it with me.”

“Oh,” Theo hummed salaciously.

“Wouldn’t wanna waste those pretty roses you got, do we?”

The low rasp of your voice seemed to entrance Theo as he shook his head, appearing dazed as you pulled him in by the front of his shirt. “No, no at all. We should…” The nervous bob of his Adam’s apple sent a thrill through your body. “We should definitely make use of them.”

With a grin, you led him towards the bed. Theo walked backwards, his eyes never leaving yours even as he landed on the mattress. The golden glow of the lamp kissed his sharp cheekbones, its warm hue coloring the slope of his nose, which were smattered with moles and freckles, before emphasizing his wine stained lips. The red roses fluttered around him as the bed dipped, soft petals tickling his skin as he settled against the headboard.

Theo felt like he was under a spell as you crawled over him. He couldn’t tell whether he was dizzy from the wine or if it was just the effect you had on him, but either way, he wasn’t complaining. There were worse things to suffer from than a pretty witch straddling his lap.

Instinctively, Theo gripped your waist while you settled over him. The sight of you leaning over him, your face mere inches away from his felt like a fever dream. One that he had no desire of waking up from.

“I thought you liked girls,” Theo whispered softly as your lips brushed over his. Teasing, taunting, tasting. Fuck, what he would give to have you devour him whole.

“I do,” you replied, tickling his cheek with a rose petal. Theo shivered as the low rasp of your voice pulled him in. “But I like boys too. Especially pretty ones like you.”

Theo couldn’t help but blush. Obviously, he was aware that he was attractive, but he’d never been called pretty before. He was surprised to find that he really fucking liked it.

“Don’t flatter me, dolcezza. Not unless you plan on following through.”

“I’ve never been with a Slytherin before,” you whispered huskily. “Tell me, Theo. Will you sink your teeth into me tonight?”

A part of him pondered the slightly fucked up situation that Theo managed to get himself into tonight. Was he really about to fuck his ex-girlfriend’s ex-girlfriend in her own bed? Yes. Did he feel an ounce of guilt over what he was about to do? No.

Honestly, fuck Hannah. But more importantly, Theo needed to focus on fucking you.

“Fuck yes.”

When you leaned in and pressed your lips against his, it was over. There wasn’t a single trace of self control in him as he kissed back, his mouth hot and eager against yours. The infamous Gryffindor boldness didn’t disappoint as you moaned into his mouth, your fingers threading through his silky brown waves before tugging in a way that made Theo weak in the knees. As he parted your lips with his tongue, you grinded against him and laughed seductively when he whimpered in response.

“Yeah?” you purred as you rolled your hips. “You like that, pretty boy?”

“Bloody fucking hell,” Theo groaned before he kissed you again, rougher this time.

There was something satisfying about the way he grabbed you, his big hands guiding you to grind over him, providing a delicious friction between your clothed sex. Theo was hard and throbbing underneath you. By the feel of him, you knew you were in for a ride. The sheer size of him was going to absolutely destroy you.

You pulled away and a glistening trail of spit extended between you as a result of your sloppy make out. Theo panted as you tugged at the hem of his shirt, keeping your eyes trained on him while you licked a path down his abdomen. He watched hungrily as you grazed your teeth over his hard muscles, flicking your tongue expertly while he shuddered underneath you.

“I can see why Hannah went for you,” you hummed against his tan skin. “You’re hot as fuck. Your abs are unreal and your happy trail,” Theo groaned as you pressed soft kisses along his torso. “It leads to something delicious, doesn’t it?”

“Fuck, bella. You’re killing me,” Theo groaned as he fisted your hair in one hand. The whimper that slipped past his lips as you palmed his cock was utterly shameless. “You’ve got a filthy fucking mouth, Y/N.”

“Yeah? Shut me up, then.”

His head lolled back against the headboard as you released his cock from his boxers, stroking purposefully and savoring the filthy moans that echoed against the walls. Those pretty eyes of his were nearly black with lust as he looked down at you, biting his lip while your tongue swirled over the head of his cock. Licking up his precum, you smirked before fully wrapping your lips around him.

Theo tugged at your hair and bucked against your mouth as you sucked, licked, and pumped every inch of his thick, hard cock. You knew you were good, but the desperation in Theo’s voice all but confirmed it.

“Dio mio, right there. Fuck, you’re perfect. Your throat was made to be fucked. You can take it, bella. Choke on my cock, just like that.”

You gagged as he hit the back of your throat. Sucking dick had never been your favorite, but sucking Theo’s dick was something else. He looked so pretty with his waves plastered to his forehead, rosy cheeks flushed as he fucked your face with a dominance that had you growing wetter by the second. Tears streaked down your cheeks as you choked on his cock, but it was worth every second to hear Theo moan your name.

“Fuck, Y/N,” hissed Theo after a particularly rough thrust. You could tell he was close by the way his body seized underneath you, but you weren’t done with him yet. You wanted more and so did he. “So fucking close, but I don’t want to come yet. I need…Fuck, I need more.”

You released him with a pop, but kept stroking him with your right hand. “Use your words, pretty boy.”

“I want to feel you,” Theo whined. “I need to feel your pussy clenching around my cock, principessa. I need you so fucking bad. I’d get on my knees to be inside of you. Please.”

“You sound so pretty when you beg,” you said as you kissed his temple. “Who am I to refuse?”

Theo watched as you shuffled above him, barely breathing as you slipped out of your clothes. When you threw your shirt off, Theo cursed to find you completely bare before him. He cupped your tits, flicking his thumb over your nipples before wrapping his lips around them. You could tell he was eager to please and that alone was a huge fucking turn on. It was rare to find a man who cared about pleasure beyond his own, which is why you usually preferred women. Theodore Nott seemed to be the exception.

With rapt attention, Theo helped you lower down onto his length. He kept his eyes on you as you adjusted, gasping when your walls stretched to accommodate his size.

“You know, I thought the rumors about you were exaggerated,” you groaned as you sank lower. “But I’ve never been so glad to be wrong.”

Theo smirked as he nibbled at your earlobe. “What kind of rumors, dolcezza?”

“That you had a huge dick,” you responded, sounding slightly winded once Theo was finally fully sheathed inside of you. “And that you fuck like a—“ You moaned when Theo shifted his hips to rut into you. He was so big that the minuscule movement felt like you were being split apart.

“That I fuck like what, bella?”

Never one to be outdone, you tugged at his hair and grinded against him. “That you fuck like an absolute demon.”

“Yeah?” He drawled, sliding in and out of you with a cocky smirk. “Well, you’re no angel either, Y/N.”

“You haven’t seen anything yet, Theo.”

The sight of you bouncing on his cock and riding the fuck out of him was almost too much. Theo was mesmerized as you used him to get off, head thrown back as you placed your hands on either side of his legs before bending in an angle that he wasn’t even sure was possible for a human to contort to.

Damn, he should’ve fucked a cheerleader sooner. He should’ve fucked you sooner.

“I guess you’re not the only one who listened to the rumors. They said you were flexible, but goddamn, this is something else. You’re something else, Y/N.”

“Oh fuck, Theo,” you keened as you gripped the sheets. “You’re so big. It feels so fucking good, baby.”

“I like the way you moan my name,” he said. “Gods, I could’ve had this all along. Why was I even wasting my time with Hannah? Sei una fottuta dea.”

“I have no idea what you just said,'' you panted, picking up the pace. Your legs ached from the effort, but it felt too good to stop. “But I’m soaked now.”

“I said,” Theo grunted as he fucked up into you and tugged your hair back. “You’re a fucking goddess, Y/N.”

When he rubbed circles on your clit, you absolutely lost it. The room spiraled around you as you came hard, creaming Theo from tip to base. He pulled out suddenly, making you whine at the loss of contact until he replaced his cock with his mouth. Theo flattened his tongue, licking up along your soaked folds. His nose brushed against your already sensitive clit and you cried out as he lapped you up like a man starved.

“Can’t take anymore,” you whined, tears pooling in the corner of your eyes as you pushed against Theo’s broad shoulders. “It’s too much. I’m so sensitive.”

Theo gripped your ankles and spread your legs wider. “Where’s that Gryffindor bravery, bella?” He chuckled, tracing circles on the inside of your thighs. His mouth glistened with your cum and rose petals stuck to his skin as he looked up at you. “Surely you can take more. We barely just started. I want you drenched in tears. Shaking, crying, and moaning my name. Right now, you’re not even close.”

He sucked on your clit and you swore to Godric your eyes rolled back so hard that you saw heaven. Theo was determined to drive you to the brink of insanity. “I know you want it, baby. Let me make you feel good.”

“Oh gods,” you cried out as he filled you with two fingers. It wasn’t as much of a stretch as his cock, but the way he curled them inside of you, touching that sensitive spongy spot within your walls made you whimper all the same. “Fuck, yes, gods. I want it. I want you, Theo.”

A satisfied smile graced his handsome face before Theo flipped you over, pressing you headfirst into the pillows as he feasted on your pussy from behind. There wasn’t a single thought in your head as he unraveled you with his tongue and fingers. It was a deadly combination that had you on the edge quicker than you thought possible.

“Turn around, principessa,” Theo cooed. “Come ride my face.”

For Godric’s fucking sake. The man was absolutely insatiable. You liked to think that you had excellent stamina. Most of the time your partners struggled to keep up with your pace, but Theo was seriously challenging that. You didn’t know if you could come three times in a row without passing out, but tonight was as good as any to find out.

Theo rewarded you with a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss before positioning your thighs on either side of his head. You held onto the headboard above him. Part of it was for balance, but mostly to keep yourself from collapsing all together. You felt so overstimulated that the line between pleasure and pain was blurring by the minute, but still, neither one of you had any plans of stopping.

At this point, you actually couldn’t give less of a fuck about revenge. Hannah had long become a thing of the past. It seemed ironic that you and your ex-girlfriend were in this exact position mere hours ago yet you couldn’t even recall anything past the Slytherin fucking you with his tongue.

“Theo, oh my fucking gods,” you cried out as you grinded against his mouth. “Right there. Yes, that’s it. So good.” Theo squeezed your thighs in response, which elicited a hoarse laugh out of you. “You like when I praise you, pretty boy?”

Theo hummed against your clit and squeezed your ass in confirmation. “You’re so pretty when you’re eating my pussy,” you cooed, brushing his wavy locks back. “But you’re even prettier when you’re fucking me.”

That seemed to be all the encouragement Theo needed. Before you knew it, your back was against the mattress as he hiked your legs over your shoulder. Theo slipped in easily, thanks to the juices coating both his tongue and cock now that he was filling you up again.

“How’s the view now, principessa?” Theo asked with a cocky smirk.

You bit your lip as he pounded into you, holding your gaze with every sharp thrust. His tanned skin glistened with sweat and his muscles flexed while he buried himself inside of you again and again, watching you take all of him with rapt attention. His balls slapped against your ass every time his hips snapped to yours, drilling so deep that you struggled for words.

“The best in the castle,” you quipped back, putting on a serene smile as Theo grunted and fucked any and every coherent thought right out of you.

Neither one of you noticed the door opening nor the sound of the broom hitting the floor. You were too busy staring into Theo’s pretty eyes to care.

He turned your head towards the door, but didn’t stop fucking you as Hannah watched with her mouth hung wide open. Theo made sure that your ex-girlfriend had a clear view of the money shot as he claimed you with his mouth, moaning your name against your lips as he came with a loud cry. He filled you to the brim and you could feel him leaking out of you and onto the sheets as your eyes rolled back.

Theo collapsed on top of you, sweaty and sinful. As you lay boneless and blissed out of your mind, you couldn’t quite believe that you’d just fucked your ex-girlfriend’s ex boyfriend. In her own bed, nonetheless. If that wasn’t poetic justice, you didn’t know what was. Merlin, you hadn’t gotten shagged like that in—well, ever. The Slytherin really knew how to slither in. You lifted your head to find Theo already looking at you. When you made eye contact, the two of you burst into laughter.

Your ex-girlfriend, on the other hand, was not as amused. “What the fuck!” Hannah screamed.

Her shrill voice brought you out of the post haze aftermath of your earth shattering orgasm. Completely unbothered, you stretched lazily and waved your fingers at Hannah. Theo smirked as he tugged his sweatpants back on, but opted to remain shirtless as he pulled his oversized shirt over your head like a proper gentleman. You were grateful, since you had absolutely no desire to walk around in your ex-girlfriend’s clothes. Plus, it didn’t hurt that Theo looked absolutely delicious from the afterglow.

You bit your lip, already thinking of all the ways you’d like to have him. Again and again. As often as possible.

With a little smile, you met Theo’s gaze. It was clear that neither of you had any intention of calling it an early night. You had a feeling that you had a lot of sleepless nights ahead of you. Theo looked like he wanted to tear you apart and you were more than willing to let him. “My dorm?”

“Whatever you say, dolcezza,” Theo said as he slipped his fingers through yours. “You could lead me off the astronomy tower and I’d follow.”

Theo didn’t bother looking at Hannah as the two of you passed her. You, on the other hand, couldn’t pass up the chance to get the last word in.

“By the way, we’re breaking up with you. Have fun cleaning up the mess.”

Theo chuckled darkly as he tugged you out into the hallway, smacking your arse as the two of you raced back to your dorm. Behind you, your long forgotten ex-girlfriend gaped as she watched her ex-girlfriend and ex-boyfriend walk away hand in hand.

#yes i know this is unhinged but i dreamt it so now you all have to deal #theo nott #theo nott x reader #theo nott x you #theo nott x y/n #theo nott smut #theo nott imagine #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott x you #theodore nott #theodore nott smut #theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott imagine

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yandere-daydreams · 6 months

Text

Title: Rotting Divinity.

Pairing: Yandere!Scaramouche x Reader (Genshin).

Word Count: 2.9k.

TW: Reader Is Referred To As A Shrine Maiden But Gender Neutral, Set A Few Years After Dottore Starts Experimenting On Scaramouche, Unhealthy Relationships, Obsessive Behavior, Kidnapping, Themes of Chronic Illness, and Mentions of Human Experimentation.

Scaramouche opened his eyes as the sun set, casting the sky a dull pinkish blue. You were standing above him, a straw basket on your hip and a frown tugging on the corners of your lips.

He let a groan as he hauled himself into a more dignified position, palms planted in the raw dirt and dried grass caught in his hair. One glance was spared to establish that he was no longer in the Doctor’s cramped observation room, all cold stone walls and porcelain tables with leather straps stapled into each corner, before his attention settled on you. “Mortal,” he barked, speaking loudly enough to hear himself over the pain still buzzing in his skull. “Which island is this?”

“Yashiori, near Serpent’s Head,” you muttered, disappointment heavy in your tone. When he clicked his tongue, you went on, your frown deepening. “You ruined my herb garden.”

Had he? He couldn’t remember anything after the Doctor worked those long, tapered needles underneath the skin of his forearms; after an iron mask was forced over his mouth and nose and he began to think his body may tear itself apart before that sadist had the chance to. He wasn’t supposed to be in Serpent’s Head. He wasn’t supposed to be on Yashiro at all. He hadn’t meant to be here, and yet, he’d be thrown in a cage of iron bars and subjected to another round of testing as soon as he trudged back to that dungeon of a facility. Thinking about the feeling of thick, pulsing electricity coursing through his hollow limbs was enough to send a familiar bolt of agony down the length of his spine. It was little more than a phantom, a shadow of the torture it would take to unlock his truepotential, but it was enough to leave him curling into himself involuntarily, glaring at the soil with a hollow type of malice.

He would’ve recovered in a second – less than a second, a moment, a breath – if you hadn’t fallen to your knees at his side, cooing as you pressed the back of your hand into his forehead. “Are you hurt?” If he’d tried to answer, his response would’ve been lost to your fussing, the way you hummed and shook your head as you hauled him to his feet. “Body aches? Migraines? Whatever it is—” An arm was drawn over your shoulders, his weight forcibly rested on you. “—I’m sure I have something for it inside. A place for you to rest, too – however you got here, the journey had to be burdensome.”

He considered protesting. Even in the state he’d been reduced to, it would’ve taken nothing to pry himself away from you, to shatter your ankles underneath his heel and leave you begging for the mercy of the creature you’d tried to pity. He could’ve penned a letter to the Doctor as you bled out in the soil of your own garden, recovered his strength as he took your body apart and fed your remains, piece by piece, to whatever scavengers would have you. He could’ve, if he’d wanted to. He could’ve, but then, he saw what you were wearing.

The sleeves of your kosode were rolled neatly to the elbow, the hems of your pleaded hakama dusted with dirt and grass stains. Unlike the maidens of Watatsumi and the Grand Narukami Shrine, you wore neither red nor blue, but white. Pure, never-ending white.

Scaramouche went limp in your hold, his eyes falling shut as you let out a surprised laugh, doing your best to accommodate his now-dead weight. He could kill you tomorrow, he figured. It was already dusk, and while he didn’t mind traveling at night, he knew the Doctor wouldn’t begin to wonder where he was until the sun rose tomorrow morning. He wasn’t a dog, eager to crawl home and prove his obedience. He could wait until he was called for.

At least, by then, your worrying might’ve done something to dull the burn of the electricity underneath his skin.

“So, you’re telling me that this is a waste of time.”

You ignored him with a light hum, a quick movement of your tasseled gohei. Normally, daily rites were something to be performed quickly and efficiently before the unlucky shrine maiden responsible for carrying them out returned to scrubbing floorboards and disturbing fortunes, but in a life as slow as yours, with so little to occupy the many hours of your countless days, even repetitive tasks such as this were given an unnecessarily artistic flourish. Scaramouche might’ve called it indulgent, if he ever decided to be so kind to you.

Currently, you were dancing in front of a dilapidated shrine at the base of the snake’s skull; the paint mostly chipped away and the wood close to rotting. You’d explained, four days after he first allowed you to haul him into your ancient cabin, that you would be responsible for rebuilding it once it inevitably collapsed, an honor only bestowed upon caretakers every few centuries, and he’d told you that you ought to save yourself a few decades and tear it down that day, but you’d only laughed. Most things he said made you laugh.

He'd noticed early on that you were of a weak constitution. Dark bags circled under your eyes despite how often and how deeply you slept, and you seemed unable to carry anything heavier than what could fit in one of your woven baskets. There should’ve been another shrine keeper, if not several. And, if there could only be one, then it shouldn’t have been you.

Still, Scaramouche was glad that you had been chosen, even if you were a bad fit for the position. If it’d been anyone else, he would’ve had to get rid of them days ago, and he was thankful to be spared the effort.

“It’s not,” you said, consciously clipping his choice of words. You finished your rite with a deep bow, then turned to Scaramouche. “Shows of dedication make him happy.”

“He being…” His gaze drifted upward, to the fanged skull. Orobashi no Mikoto – the beast’s name provided by some nameless well of knowledge that seemed to linger in the space between the back of his throat and the pit of his chest. Consciously, the only title Scaramouche had ever thought to put to the serpent was that of ‘festering remains’. “…the fucking corpse?”

“If you keep using that kind of language, you might have to start sleeping outside.” You took up the basket of lavender melons you’d (admittedly, unwisely) left in his care, snatching it away before he could add to the small pile of black seeds stacked on his opposite side. Your hastiness left one of the rounder melons toppling over the well-worn edge, though, and he caught it with a single hand, grinning as he dug his teeth into the ripe flesh and claimed it for himself. You rolled your eyes, but quickly occupied yourself with clearing away yesterday’s fruit from the shrine. “It’s not complicated. We keep him happy, hold our rites and make our sacrifices, and he ensures that my crops grow quickly and the village prospers.” A pause, a smile thrown carelessly over your shoulder. You smiled as easily as you laughed, something that irritated Scaramouche to no end. “If it wasn’t for him, you wouldn’t be recovering half as quickly as you are.”

Right. It was too easy to forget that there was a pretense to his time with you; that he was supposed to be some wayward, ailing traveler with a mysterious condition your charms and cures could only keep at bay. He wasn’t lying to you. All he did was lie back and let you fuss over his nonexistent pulse, the bloodless pallor of his skin, the way his temperature never seemed to rise above that of damp clay. He wasn’t like the Doctor – scheming and underhanded, prone to leading his victims in circles before gifting them with the mercy of a slow death – or the priestess he could only vaguely remember from his first days, all dark eyes and whispers of a merciful death. You liked doting on him, and he didn’t mind keeping his mouth shut.

“Don’t give yourself too much credit.” He dug his teeth into the lavender melon as you gathered your things, sugary juice turning his lips tacky as he went on. “I’ve always been hard to kill.”

You came to stand above him, your smile small and eyes vaguely narrowed. “If you’re feeling that strong,” you started, holding your now-emptied basket in front of you. “Then you shouldn’t mind weeding the garden and fetching water, this afternoon.”

It only took him a moment to think to protest, but you were already gone, stumbling down the mountainside as he hastily pushed himself to his feet. He called your name, but he could already hear your voice – rising above his in one of your obnoxiously repetitive hymns and drowning him out as he chased after you.

The villagers welcomed you as sheep welcomed field dogs; from a distance.

Scaramouche trailed behind you as you plodded through the humble village, humming and clutching your basket close to your chest, fiddling nervously with the pure-white material of your sleeves. The crowd parted around you, twin walls of watchful eyes and hushed voices forming well-ahead of your path and collapsing as you strode past them, either unable or unwilling to acknowledge the thick silence that seemed to hang over you like a shroud. Occasionally, you’d stop at a stall or a doorway, handing off bundles of wrapped herbs to gloved and trembling hands, and less often, you’d send him a smile over your shoulder, your tired eyes wrinkling at the corners, as if apologizing that he had to come along for such a dull errand. That was how you described it, when he asked where you went off to every few days. ‘Just a quick errand,’ you’d said, as you tried to convince him to stay behind yet again. When he cited your poor health and his growing concern that he’d find you dead in that garden of yours one day, you didn’t waver. ‘You’ll only be bored if you come. The villagers aren’t very friendly.’

Scaramouche decided, mostly on a whim, that he would burn down this village before he returned to the Doctor. If he had time.

He moved to rush forward, to place himself at your side, but a hand shot out of a narrow alleyway and caught him by the wrist. It was a middle-aged blacksmith, judging by the ash smeared across his cheeks, the thick apron hanging from his neck. Scaramouche was quick to pull out of his filthy grasp, but he spoke regardless, his voice low and rough. “Mind your distance, boy.” A glance towards you, a deep sneer. “Don’t you know who that is?”

Scaramouche glanced over him, fighting the urge to scoff. “Why is no one speaking to the healer?”

“That’s no healer, that’s the shrine maiden.” He said it as if he’d caught Scaramouche attempting to throw himself into a rifthound’s mouth. “They cultivate the serpent’s remains. You’ll be dead in a week if you—”

This time, Scaramouche was the one to reach out, his hand wrapping around the blacksmith’s neck. By instinct, a bolt of pure, searing electro shot from his palm into the man’s neck, leaving him limp and convulsing in Scaramouche’s hold. Scaramouche released him as the last of the aftershocks faded, watching him collapse to the ground before planting his heel on the man’s diaphragm, prepared to shift his weight and crush whatever laid below his foot should the blacksmith say something to displease him.

“I’ll ask again,” he said, slowly, ozone thick in the air. “Why is no one speaking to the healer?”

Scaramouche returned to your cabin closer to sunrise than sunset. Somewhere, back in the village that he would see reduced to embers if it was his last act on the face of Teyvat, the charred remains of a blacksmith smoldered at the bottom of a stone well, and he opened the door to your ramshackle home with enough force to tear the rotted piece of wood from its hinges.

You were kneeling beside your work table, grinding dried lavender petals into a fine powder. He closed the space between you in a breath, knocked the pestle from your hand in another, then collapsed beside you. “You’re going to die?”

You eyed the spilled lavender wearily. “Even the archons will fall, eventually.”

He let out a ragged sob, burying his face in the dip of your shoulder. You allowed him to, your arms coming up to wrap loosely around him. You’d always been weak, but now, you seemed as feeble as a morning gale.

He was unable to speak, so you took up the mantle, tracing idle patterns into the base of his spine as you went on. “I know what they tell newcomers, about dead gods and their rot, but it’s not as bad as it sounds. He gifts us with herbs to cure our sick and soothe our elders and in return, someone sacrifices a few years. The villagers might not be able to linger, but they make sure I’m taken care of.” He felt you smile, heard you laugh. “So long as I get to help people, I don’t mind making sacrifices.”

“Other people don’t matter.” It took him longer than he cared to admit to pry himself away from you, to straighten his back and drag a deep breath into his aching lungs. He was thankful, not for the first time, that he couldn’t cry. You would only think him irrational if he fell apart so visibly. “How long do you have?”

Your head lulled to the side, your attention drifting to some indistinguishable point on the far wall. “Only the gods can say what fate has—”

“How long?”

“…another year.” Your tone carried a sort of detached acceptance, as if you couldn’t summon the energy to care. “Maybe two. The last caretaker was very fortunate – he survived half a decade in his position.”

He tried to speak, to scream at you for not telling him sooner, but his voice caught in his throat and you reached up, cupping his face in both hands. Slowly, with a dry chuckle, you leaned forward, resting your forehead against his. The cool porcelain of his skin sapped the warmth from yours, but for once, you didn’t seem to mind his unusual anatomy. “I hope I’ll be able to cure you, before I’m gone.” You were mumbling, now, speaking barely above your breath. “Do you think you’ll be able to stay for a little longer?”

He tried to answer, but you’d fallen asleep on top of him by the time he opened his mouth.

He left the next morning, while you were still tucked underneath a small pile of furs and quilts. A letter was penned and sent to the Doctor’s base, a caddy of wildflower seeds purchased from a young girl peddling wares by the side of the road, and he returned to your cabin just as your sleep turned restless. When you rose an hour past noon, he pestered you into taking him to the groove near the shoreline. By the time you returned, chiding him for distracting you from your responsibilities and pointedly ignoring the basket full of fruit at your hip, the sun was low in the sky and masked soldiers had stamped your garden into the ground. Your cabin was in flames and your shrine had been reduced to little more than a pillar of smoke in the distance.

Whatever concern you might’ve held for him was immediately forgotten. Dropping your basket, you moved to run towards the embers of your home, but Scaramouche caught you – one hand on your shoulder, another on your waist. Careful not to break what couldn’t be repaired, he forced you onto your knees, letting you scratch at his wrists as you screamed, the noise anguished and ragged. Masked soldiers gathered in the outskirts of his vision, but he bared his teeth, keeping them at a distance as you thrashed in his steadfast hold. Once he took you somewhere else, somewhere better, you’d be able to calm down.

Once he got you away from your rotting god and your unthankful village, you’d be able to worship something worth your time.

A moment passed, then another. Finally, the Doctor emerged from the crowd, his white coat unmarred by the ash in the air. He regarded you with a grin, then looked to Scaramouche. “This is the filthy toy you’d like to take home?”

It was a foolish question, undeserving of an answer. Scaramouche countered with one of his own. “Can you fix them?”

“Can I save a human being who’s been brought to the brink of death and infected thoroughly with the rot of divine remains?” The Doctor hummed, clicked his tongue. “That depends, little puppet. How much time are you willing to spend on my vivisection table?”

Scaramouche glowered, but he didn’t protest. Rather, he pulled you close – your crying softer, now, your struggling impossibly weak – and held you against his chest as he responded. “Do what you have to. They’ll be staying in my chambers, and you won’t lay a hand on them without my permission, doctor.”

“I do wish you could call me Dottore.” He sighed, shaking his head. His acquiescence was communicated with a dismissive roll of his wrist, a silent order communicated to his lackeys. His soldiers moved to take you up, but he kept you in his arms as he pushed himself back to his feet, letting you cling to and beat against his chest in tandem.

Your voice was hoarse, your shoulders trembling. Tears streamed freely from your eyes, and he allowed himself to wonder how poorly you would take it if he ran his tongue over your cheeks. “You— You monster. Hundreds of people will—"

“You said you wanted to stay with me, right?” His smile wasn’t as soft as yours, as comforting, but he did what he could. You let out another agonized sob, crumbling against him as he let his lips ghost over your forehead, speaking against your skin and above your wordless cries.

“Now, there’ll be nothing in the world capable of taking you away from me.”

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere oneshot #genshin impact #genshin imagines #genshin x reader x #genshin impact imagines #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin imagines #yandere scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #wanderer x reader #yandere wanderer #yanderecore #yancore

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kaciidubs · 6 months

Text

Two Too Much | Spooktober 2023

@goblinracha asked: Shy, cute little Naga!Minho who rather let you grind your cute little cunt along his slit before splitting you open with his cocks. He coos and hisses sweetly as your eyes roll, all while he mocks you

❣ Summary: It was rare for Minho to allow you to engage in anything sexual while he was in his half-serpent form, but, with time came trust, and with trust came experimenting. ❣ ❣ Word Count: 1.2k ❣ Warnings: Naga! Minho [half-human, half-serpent], smut, service dom! Minho, double penetration, mythical anatomy, grinding, praise, degradation, teasing, coming early, implied multiple orgasms ❣ ❣ Female! Reader [No use of Y/N] | You/Your pronouns ❣ ❣ Additional Tags: Minho is referred to as Min and Honey, Reader is referred to as kitten ❣ Stray Kids Masterlist ❣ General Masterlist ❣ Spooktober 2023

“There you go - just like that, little kitten.”

Your heart fluttered at his praise, though the sweet sentiment was caramelized with the heavy lust that thickened the air of the den, merely fueling the hunger between your legs.

It was rare for Minho to allow you to engage in anything sexual while he was in his half-serpent form, choosing to make an equal level of comfort for the both of you and keep the intimate acts only for his full human form - but, with time came trust, and with trust came experimenting.

You straddled him with ease, goosebumps decorating your skin from the sensation of his cool, smooth scales against the sensitive skin of your inner thighs - you had always admired the emerald green color, fawned over the slight holographic reflection from nearby light sources.

Your bare pussy slid against the slit on his front, your own arousal mixing with the lubricant glistening from where his cocks were hidden, the faint bumps from the tips underneath providing a mind melting texture to grind on.

“You’re really into this, hm?” Minho mused softly, his ears practically glowing red from the blush that took over his human half, “I’ve never seen you this worked up before, kitten.”

His hands held your waist, not in the hopes of guiding your hips to change or encourage your pace, but to simply touch you - ground himself in the reality of you still wanting him in this form, you still loving him in this form.

A breathless gasp floated past your lips as you dragged your hips just right, your clit bumping against the slight notch at the top of his slit. “Y-You, ah- You say that like it’s a bad thing, Min.” You looked up from the extension of his torso to catch his loving gaze, noting the cheeky lift of his eyebrow as he waited for your words. “I told you - I love you in any form.”

Minho’s sharp eyes widened, heart fluttering at the earnest tone in your voice, before blinking away his awe and settling back into a bemused expression. “You’re making such a mess - you think you’ll be able to handle me?”

Tucking away the memory of him being effectively flushed by your statement, your head bobbed in a nod, “Always, Min.”

“All of me?”

You were fiercely aware of the prominent presence of his erections, shuffling yourself out of his grasp and back enough to see his cocks slowly reveal themselves; equal in girth with the second being slightly longer than the first, twitching and glistening from his natural arousal in preparation for what was to come.

Though this wasn’t the first time you’d seen his arousal in this state - or, even pleasured him in this state - this was the first time he’d let you take both of him, and you were more than up to the challenge.

In an act to answer his question, you rose onto your knees and crawled back up his lap, hovering over his lengths with bated anticipation; the tip of his first cock bumping against your clit while the second pressed hotly against the curve of your ass.

Reaching down, you wrapped your hand around the base of his cock, your fingers welcoming the warmth radiating from him as you lined it up to your dripping entrance. Blinking up at him with sparkling eyes, a fire of determination blazing within your irises, you pouted softly, “Help me?”

A soft grunt escaped him as his hands moved - one going to the swell of your ass cheek, gripping the flesh greedily, while the other went to the shaft of his second dick, guiding the tip to notch against your opening with the first.

His eyes found yours, firm yet caring, grounding you for a moment, “Are you ready?”

You shook your head in a short nod, “More than ready.”

Double penetration was something you were no stranger to, and thanks to Minho’s openness of indulging in your interests - and subsequently adding them to his own colorful list - you were readily prepared for what you’d wanted to do since you’d seen this form.

The stretch was slow, overwhelming in more ways than one as each cock stretched your walls when you sank down - grounded by the warmth of his hand on your hip.

“That’s it - big stretch, hm?” He hissed, lips parted, revealing the sharp point of his fangs. “Fuck, taking me so well, look at you.”

Your pussy fluttered, both to your delight and dismay - squeezing his cocks against every sweet spot within you and coaxing your orgasm closer than you anticipated. A low moan fluttered past your lips as you shivered in his hold, eyes slipping shut as you tried your best to focus on bottoming out at the very least.

Working past the dizzying stretch of the widest parts of his dicks, you soon found yourself sitting flush against his lap just as before, now mind numbingly full and absolutely swimming in endorphins.

“M-Min,” you keened, head lolling forward, heavy pants escaping you, “honey, please.”

It was too much and not enough, the greed of lust begging you to start riding him while the overstimulation of your cunt cried for release.

Minho shivered, sharp eyes watching as you sat before him, taut as a bowstring waiting for him to pluck - and pluck he would.

His second hand mirrored his first on your hip, squeezing the flesh generously, “My needy kitten, asking for me to fill you like this yet you still can’t do anything for yourself.” Pulling you further against him, he dragged your hips forward and back as if you were nothing but a toy for him to use. “Maybe next time you’ll learn how to take me like this further, how’s that sound?”

Your hands flew to his forearms, blunt nails pressing crescents into the fair skin as he rocked you back and forth, the stimulation being more than enough to lead you closer and closer to your climax. “Y-Yes, sounds good, Min - s-so good!”

“I’ll teach you how to take my cocks, no more of that stupid toy, doesn’t even compare to the real thing, isn’t that right?” He goaded, rocking you faster against him, keen ears picking up on the lewd sound of your sopping pussy squelching with each movement.

A breathless sound of agreement floated through you as you nodded rapidly, staring at him with glossy eyes - eyebrows pinched slightly and lips parted with short whimpers. “Mm, n-needed this, needed you, ah- please.”

His hips rolled, sending the ribbed tips of his cocks grazing against your g-spot that had your back arching near demonically - your orgasm suddenly tearing through your body with much less of a warning to you.

Your vision went black, searing white heat shooting through your veins as your ears rang and breath stopped, your pussy throbbing rhythmically around his lengths in hopes of taking him over with you.

Eventually, you came down from the unexpected orgasm with a whine, the slick of your cum merely making everything between your legs that much hotter and slipperier; when your vision came back to you through dots of black, you were met with brown eyes sizing you up as if you were his next meal.

Hell, you were close enough.

Minho let out a slow breath, his tongue peeking out to lick the corner of his mouth, “That’s one.” He hummed, a sly smirk working its way onto his lips, “A bit fast, but that’s okay - let’s show you how it feels to ride me, shall we?”

✧. ┊Tagged lovelies: @goblinracha, @having-an-internal-crisis-rn, @midnightfrog625, @anyhow-everything, @bangchanbabygirlx, @sweetracha, @j-onedrabbles, @happilydeepestwonderland, @nightimescapes, @caitlyn98s, @ch4nn13luv,

✧. ┊Kinktober only: @selicua

✧. ┊If your username is in bold italics that means tumblr won't let me tag you. If you’d like to be added to the taglist, fill out this form!

#skz smut #stray kids smut #lee minho smut #lee minho x reader #Naga! Minho #Shifter! AU SKZ

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ioveartfilm · 1 month

Text

SERPENT'S KISS

The shackles ensnaring Satoru's frame gnawed into his flesh, rending it asunder, while he fervently endeavored to break free. His gaze was obscured by tempestuous emotions—fury, fear, and remorse. Bound by a gag of fabric, his voice remained imprisoned, save for the plaintive whisper of your name, a desperate plea lost to the void. This was not the future he had foreseen. He was supposed to protect you, shield you from everything, but in the end he has failed. Bound by his own failings, he bore witness to your suffering.

“I despise the way his fingers graze my skin, the audacity with which he proclaims ownership over my being,” you confessed, your words heavy with revulsion as you sought solace in the shelter of Satoru's embrace. Satoru, understanding your distress, enveloped you in his arms, his touch a gentle caress as he pressed a tender kiss atop your head.

“I understand, and I deeply regret subjecting you to this ordeal. Rest assured, this torment shall cease soon.” You lifted your gaze to meet Satoru's captivating eyes, your grasp unwavering in its intensity.

“For you, I endure this hardship, for I would have surrendered were it not for your sake.”

Aware of your unyielding loyalty and deep devotion to him, Satoru understood the extent of your commitment. However, he realized he had erred in leveraging your loyalty for retribution. In the stillness of the night, once your task was fulfilled, Satoru gently aided you in the cleansing of your attire, washing away the stains of the blood from your hands and weary visage.

“Fear not, he is no more. You have executed your task successfully.” Satoru reassured you, his voice a gentle balm to soothe your troubled mind. After ending the life of your target in the throes of passion. You retrieved a concealed dagger from your robes, driving it into the chest of the man beneath you. You became a killer, for the first time in your life, and you did it in the name of love, for him.

Satoru believed they had gained a significant advantage, seizing the high ground by executing the demise of an important figure from the rival kingdom. Utilizing your seductive prowess, you lured him into a moment of vulnerability, ultimately erasing him. Yet, he ought to have realized, never allowing one's vigilance to wane. Before him stood a man with a contemptuous grin and words laced with venom, wanting nothing more than to rip his tongue out. “Satoru,” the man spat, his tone dripping with disdain, “Did I not forewarn you to never dare set foot within my territory?” Satoru clenched his teeth in a fit of rage, his muscles coiling like a spring ready to launch at the man. But the chains, unyielding and relentless, shackled him to his place, denying him the satisfaction of retaliation.

“Not only did you dare to trespass into my domain, but also dared to spill the blood of my kin,” the man accused, his voice laced with venom and simmering rage.

Satoru's scoff reverberated in the tense silence, a stark defiance against the accusations laid bare before him. “How dare I? How dare I indeed, when it was you who first betrayed us,” he countered, his voice filled with righteous indignation. "You were the mastermind of my kingdom's downfall, the traitor who sold out our family for promises of wealth and power. You're the one who murdered my parents and allowed our enemies to overrun us. But why spare me that night? Why leave me to witness their slaughter, to fester in rage and thirst for revenge all these years?” Satoru's voice rose with each word, seething with pent-up fury. “It was all part of your twisted scheme, wasn’t it? You knew I would come back and that I would strike, by killing your bastard brother. Tell me, isn't this enough? SUGURU GETO!!”

Suguru’s chuckle rang out, “If you knew you were destined to fail, why persist in your futile endeavors?” He taunted, his tone laced with derision. “Some things never change, do they?”

“I shall not find peace until I see you dead.”

Suguru’s ominous hum filled the air, as he monitored for the guards to open the cell, allowing someone’s entry. As they complied, Satoru’s eyes widened in horror as you were flung into the room, chained and helpless. “How can you speak of witnessing my death when your own demise is inevitable? But before we address that, I believe it’s only fitting to execute the punishment for the one who drove the dagger into my brother’s heart. Don’t you agree?”

“Stay away from her—!!”

Suguru deaf to Satoru’s warnings, he instructed his guards to chain you to the wall. With a predatory grace, he advanced towards you, his touch like ice against your skin as his fingers trailed across your cheek. “Imagine my surprise to find you’ve been keeping this whore away. And here I thought we were friends once, yet you hide such an interesting secret from me.”

Satoru’s gaze flickered with confusion as the guards handed him a strange cup, his grip tightened around it as he glanced toward Gojo. “But first,” Suguru announced. “Let us partake in a toast. To our long-standing friendship, to your enduring innocence that has allowed me to thrive in this world of boundless wealth and power.”

Before proceeding further, Suguru halted, a smirk curling upon his lips. “Doesn’t the aroma strike a chord of familiarity?” He inquired, his tone laced with a sinister edge.

Satoru’s heart sinks in realization. “Poison.”

Taking a sip, Suguru turned towards you, his grip on you unyielding as he forcibly pressed his lips against yours. Despite your struggles, his strength prevailed, coercing you to relent and open your mouth, unwittingly allowing the lethal toxin to infiltrate your body.

“No—!!” Satoru’s cry of anguish reverberated through the room. He could only watch in horror, as Suguru ensnared you in a deadly embrace, sealing your fate with a venomous kiss. Your cries were muffled as a piece of fabric was forcefully pressed over your mouth, preventing any chance of expelling the poison, and condemning you to an agonizing fate in suffocating silence. Muffled by the cloth gag, Satoru's anguished cries mirrored your own as both of you strained against the unyielding chains, thwarted in your attempts to reach each other. Tears streamed down his cheeks, a silent testament to his despair as he watched helplessly, unable to intervene as you faced a slow and agonizing death. He begged for just one more opportunity to hold you close, to share a fleeting moment before you succumbed to eternal slumber. Bound and forsaken, Satoru stood at the stake, hands tied behind him, a captive audience awaiting the downfall of the last scion of the Gojo lineage. It was his fault, he realized, with his promises of a life together to you, his assurances of love despite social barriers before his kingdom crumbled. It was his love that had led to your death, and now he faced the consequences. Satoru's gaze drifted skyward, lost in a reverie of memories from his youth. He remembered the days spent with his dear confidant, the friend who ultimately betrayed him. And then, there was the day he met you, his most cherished memory. With a heavy heart, he surrendered to the consuming fire, knowing that his end marked the culmination of his own tragic story. Despite the imminent embrace of death, the prospect of meeting you once more assuaged his fear, casting a gentle warmth amid the inferno's fury.

Author’s Note Ah, I love writing Suguru as a villain, he’s insanely good at it hahah! Thanks for reading, check out my other works on my page!

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ichorai · 1 year

Text

amor ; namor.

pairing ; namor x mutant!gn!reader

synopsis ; we know what it’s like to be punished for love.

words ; 1.1k

themes ; angst, fluff, mutant au, married au

warnings / includes ; no black panther: wakanda forever spoilers, reader is a mutant and can transform into a creature known as the mishipeshu, brief mentions of a conquistador and mutant bigotry, you and namor bicker like an old married couple <3

part two. main masterlist.

The feathered serpent god—K’uk’ulkan. Leader, savior, ruler.

That’s what your people called him. But not you.

“Mi amor,” you called out, a small crease of worry divoting between your brows. You rose from the waters and into the expansive cave, glowing a faint green from the bioluminescent sea lanterns, striding up to your husband. “You have yet to eat today. I’m worried about you.”

He glanced towards you, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. His arms extended to you, wrapping an arm around your waist and roping you closer. “I’m sorry—I’ll be down shortly. There’s just a lot on my mind right now.”

Humming in response, you placed a soft kiss to his cheek, then another to the side of his nose. A satisfied rumble thundered within his chest. With his free hand, he gestured to the rocky wall you were facing.

You tilted your head upwards, observing his handiwork. It was a grand mural, painted with bright coral pigments and sponge-tipped brushes. Every stroke held a thousand memories, every color a symbolic tale. It was no wonder Namor spent hours upon hours here.

“That’s me,” you whispered, stepping closer to the wall. It wasn’t you in your human form—it was an intricate drawing of Mishipeshu, as the land-dwellers called you when you transformed. There were about a couple dozen humans with spears pointed towards the creature. A lump formed in your throat. You could feel a tar-like darkness stain your insides at the memory. The surface-people were once your friends, but that was a lifetime ago.

“It was the day we met,” Namor susurrated, vibranium jewelry jingling as he strode towards the other side of the cave, where another painting resided. “When I found out you were not like the other Talokans—a mutant, like me.”

“That was not a pleasant memory. The humans I once trusted, betrayed me. They were hurting me and I… I thought you were going to do the same. I nearly killed you,” you sighed wistfully.

At that, Namor whirled around, arching a brow as he stalked back to you. “If I remember correctly, I almost killed you.” He leaned closer with a smug look etched over his features, only mirroring your steps every time you shuffled back.

“I am nearly sure I was winning that fight.”

His low chuckle reverberated through the cave. “I beg to differ.”

“I broke your arm!”

“I cut your tail off.”

“And then I married you not long after,” you gruffed with a scowl, gently shoving his face away when he backed you into a corner. “Besides, my tail grew back a month later—no thanks to you.”

“And who was the one that proposed marriage?” Namor leered, grabbing your wrists to keep you from swatting him.

A low growl caught in your throat. “You are insufferable, my love.”

He barked out a laugh. “As are you, mi vida.”

Then, he kissed you. It was a kiss of contrasts—his cold jewelry pressing flush against your sweltering skin, and his lips rough as his nose softly slotted against yours. The silence was loud, nearly deafening, only thickening as he crowded you against the wall, the damp stone scratching almost painfully against the bare skin of your back. But you didn’t care.

“Amor,” you croaked, when his lips left yours, trailing down your jaw, to your quivering throat, to your heaving cleavage. He hummed in question, wordlessly asking you what was on your mind. “Why me? Why did you choose to save me?”

“Because I saw myself in you,” he replied easily, letting go of your wrists so he could press a frigid palm flat over your sternum. He could feel the frantic thumping over your heart pulse, only seeming to quicken the longer he stared at you. “Because you’re the only one that can truly understand me.”

“Because we’re mutants?”

Namor regarded you silently, before dipping his head to kiss you, much slower this time. When he pulled away, he whispered, “Because we know what it’s like to be punished for love.”

You studied him with wide eyes—the emerald luminescence cast arching shadows over his face, and for a moment you understood just why everybody called him a god. He certainly looked like one.

But your love was not a god. He was a man—a man that lived through repeated nightmare after nightmare. A man who’d seen too much for a single lifetime. A man left with a legacy that he never asked for.

A man with mutant powers—like yours.

Did that make you a god?

To the surface-dwellers, that made you a monster.

“I love you,” he muttered into you, lifting his head to meet your eyes steadily. They were narrowed, dark and observant, as if searching you for any sign of regret. He uttered those words very sparsely, usually in the dead of night when you were already sound asleep, or when one of you had to leave Talokan for a long period of time.

The land-roamers called him Namor, a man without love—but he had so much to give to you. The love he harbored for you laid heavy and stagnant within his chest, clinging to every bone of his ribcage, to every pump of his heart. It was tricky and unfamiliar to deal with at first—because the only time he’d ever loved someone this much was for his mother. He was not talented in the art of love, that was certain.

He was never one to be insecure. But with a name such as Namor so deeply ingrained into his being, he could only wonder if that was perhaps true. A Spanish conquistador used his dying breath to call him devil-born, undeserving of love.

Was there truth to his words? Did he have your love in return? And if he did, would he deserve such love?

“You think so loudly,” you said, tilting your head. You kissed the corner of his mouth. Once, twice, thrice. He would do anything for a fourth. “I love you, amor. It’s like you said before—I was the one that wanted to marry you, remember?”

Your husband huffed, smiling fondly at the memory. “Mmh, very adamant about it, as well—”

“It’d be wise if you didn’t finish that thought, K’uk’ulkan.”

Playfully, he narrowed his eyes. “You’ll have to make me, Mishipeshu.”

You surged forward and slanted your lips against his once more, and Namor reciprocated with an equally passionate vigor.

Yes, he thought, as your muffled laughter rang through the cave whilst you kissed him, throwing your arms over his neck, he had your love. And he most definitely deserved it, too.

#namor x reader #namor fanfiction #namor fanfic #marvel fanfiction #namor imagine #namor drabble #namor angst #namor fluff #namor x you #black panther fanfiction

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vashvenus · 4 months

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★ミ serpentine.

synopsis: naga knives has a sort of morbid fascination with you than manifests in a strangely sexual manner.

contains: naga/serpent knives, knives’ taxidermy hobby is mentioned, sort of medical? but he’s just exploring and weird, dubcon i think?, he has two weewees, and afab reader. 3.5k words.

note: teehee!! this is a (late) christmas present for my BEST FRIEND!! my cool, adorable, and wonderful bff @knivesbunny <33 hehehe enjoy bee + everyone else!!

it was about time you moved on in the world. getting a fresh start in the form of a cozy cabin at the edge of the woods sung your name and the price point was staggeringly low so, after confirming there were no safety hazards, you took the place. with dark wood and muted tones alongside a beautifully kept garden by the previous owners, how could you possibly go wrong? well, ‘wrong’ is an arbitrary term and ultimately up to the individual for judgement.

your moving process went without a hitch. furniture and belongings all being placed properly following a good deep clean plus a couple coats of paint, things any place would need upon a new owner arriving. you'd been rather happy at the final product, something dreary at first taking the form of your own home; a fond word. trinkets, cupboards of dishes, and an amalgamation of photos and artworks lining the walls to create an atmosphere you almost wished you could share but, alas, a solitary life was your preference.

the garden out back was complete with a greenhouse tucked to the side, surrounded by an abundance of flora and fauna that also colourfully dotted the rest of the greenery. small plots had been sectioned out for different fruits and herbs and the idea of being able to grow a large quantity of your own food was an exciting new feeling, one that you couldn't wait to grasp. thusly, it wasn't long until you found yourself kneeling in the grass and working new seeds into the dirt. a variety of the basics alongside some of your favourites was the route of action, one also deemed reasonable. between fondly nestling new seeds and sipping at cool beverages, the thought of the greenhouse slowly slipped your mind despite how vital it was to your task. swiping the gathered sweat from your forehead, you rose up to analyze your progress to which brought your eyes back to that small addition cozied up to the side of the property. the bags of dirt and tools resting on the ground would need a place to go after all... so, you wandered over to that little building and fiddled with the door.

the wooden door was slightly overgrown and gave you a good fight to open, weeds and rust seemingly actively working to keep you out of the space. stepping back, you looked it over a bit more, not wanting any splinters, before pressing your shoulder into it for added force. with a combined 'bang' and 'groan,' the door scraped across the inner concrete floor before coming to a stop about three quarters open. you huffed and slipped in, cursing the rotten chunk of wood and attempting to get a good look at what you were working with. eyes glazing over various rickety shelves, a sharp and icy chill rolled down your spine. a small nagging voice in the back of your head whispered ‘something isn’t right,’ in response to the unusual, for lack of better words, appearance of the inside.

atop aforementioned delicate shelves lay different jars full of an indistinguishable liquid and what appeared to be organs, small ones so hopefully not human, as well as a range of entire animals fully submerged in their own watery tombs. wind chimes made of bones twinkled from the ceiling above firmly locked chests and you weren’t totally sure you were interested in the contents. the previous owners, an old couple, didn’t seem like the type to hoard such morbid trinkets but sometimes it’s the most innocent ones, you figure. still, the lingering idea of this being the work of some beast that had chased them away from their lovely home rattled at the back of your mind ominously. shifting on shaky knees and feet, you contemplated poking around a bit but rationality told you to at least find a sturdy pair of gloves first. though, as it would seem, the choice wasn’t yours to make judging by that same yet more aggressive scraping and slamming door.

whipping around, you came face to face with… a man? one with frosty eyes, near white hair, and a scowl that could skin you alive. more importantly, he was hanging from the ceiling of the small shed you were now trapped in; stuck. with him. this… not quite man, if your judgment of his long serpentine looking lower half meant anything. all wide eyes and dry mouth, you gaped helplessly at him, attempting to find some sort of explanation for what exactly you’re doing, as if this isn’t your property he’s on. his eyes turned to slits seeing you fumble for words and, with an amount of grace that shouldn’t be possible, he slithered off the ceiling to instead… stand? lay? rest? you’re not too sure but he’s in front of you now right side up. pupils merely scratches inside his powdery blue eyes, you fear he’s deciding if you’ll make a good meal and you’ve half the mind to assure him you’re not as tasty as he may think. alas, he speaks before you get the chance.

“name,” it’s a simple but firm commanding question you weren’t quite expecting but, to be real, what were you expecting from an interaction with a snake man? you stutter out a whimper of a reply and he clicks his tongue; it’s forked, you note. with all confidence you can muster, not much, you promptly for his own. he hums low. “millions knives. shorten it to knives at most. don’t dare to give me any sort of nickname, as you humans often do; it’s abhorrent,” and you’re shocked he’s so eloquently spoken. perhaps there’s snake people schools you aren’t aware of?

“right. noted, millions knives,” you hesitate, not keen on irritating him further, as clearly just your presence has perturbed him, “i… apologize if i’ve intruded but… this is my property after all. some sort of explanation on your,” you gesture widely at the space, “hobby would be appreciated.” your poor attempt at mimicking his speech pattern has him letting out a chuckle that sounds more like an array of chitters. palms sweaty and desperately avoiding eye contact, you gulp hoping he’ll entertain your question before potentially swallowing you whole; snakes can do that. his tail flicks your shin jolting you to bring your eyes back to his, admittedly handsome, face.

“my… hobby, hm? it’s nothing to you,” a disappointing response, “were you hoping i’d have a jar your size, little human?” you’re positive he’s making fun of your fear yet somehow his words feel flirtatious in a way that has your brain swinging like a pendulum between crying out of petrification and placing a hand on his built chest. “i’ve been watching you for some time now. you’re utterly,” his tail wiggles up to grip your waist, “fascinating. a perfect experiment.” if he didn’t sound like he was flirting before, he sure does now.

his words were true to an extent beyond your knowledge. ever since the first tour you took of the place, he had kept an eye on your every move. knives hadn’t found an ounce of appeal in new people moving into the small home but, if he had it his way, it would turn abandoned for him to find sanctuary in. alas, the housing market wasn’t on his side as people inspected the place top to bottom and he was stuck merely seething beyond view; that was until you came along. all bright smiles and eager nods, he was beyond irritated with the way he found you undeniably irresistible. something so... keen would make a lovely study after all, he thought, though destroying you utterly and completely was off the table for he'd never be able to poke and prod at you after that. unfortunately, in the time it took for him to mull over a game plan, your first visit was over and he slithered back into the thick woods while scowling; unfair. the jump knives felt in his heart upon your second visit was one that caught even him off-guard, an emotion towards humans beyond that of revolt? unheard of and vile. yet, he was the one who had it and couldn't simply deny that he was feeling something beyond curiosity. your scent, perhaps? he muses over a handful of biologically reasonable conclusions for his reaction to a distantly nodding vash whos already figured out the truth. he saves it though, as to not have his other arm lobbed off, and instead hums along agreeing to every point with faint amusement.

it's with thoughts racing past at speeds no human could match, that knives brings himself back to the present, large palms and boney fingers coming to trail your jaw. another flick of his tongue appears between the grin now forming along his pink lips and impossibly long teeth; even a playful nip would draw extensive blood. he makes a sound between a hiss and growl as one sharp nail trails along your neck down to your sternum slowly, as if assessing a piece of meat; perhaps, in a way, he was. silvery tail wrapping around your left ankle, he tugs your leg up with his head dipping to peer curiously at the limb. you can't really blame him considering legs are the only human trait he lacks but the unsettling nature still makes you shiver. knives takes turns with each of your legs and arms, taking them in at all angles and seemingly pleased with what he was seeing. sure, he wasn't fond of humans at all but, he can appreciate when one is well made; easy on the eyes. a slightly morbid fascination, maybe. finally letting you go from his clawed grasp, he nods, satisfied.

"alluring. remove these pesky clothes," he scrunches up his nose while pinching the fabric of your shirt, "and seat yourself atop that cabinet." his gaze never once easing up, you're between bolting or following his instructions. the former would rely on you being stronger and faster than the behemoth of a man-snake standing directly in front of the door and you're positive you'd be dead two steps in. with trembling fingers, you pull the dirt dusted shirt from your body and shiver at cool air ghosting across your bare chest, only held back by the simple bra clinging to your breasts. you swallow thickly before shimmying off your denim shorts past your thighs and awkwardly down your feet. having not removed your socks or shoes, it was quite the task, but potential tetanus from the rickety floors wasn’t on the menu today. knives found amusement in your struggle, if the chittering in front of you meant anything though, in truth, he was rather charmed. such clumsy behaviour almost reminded him of a newborn bunny. face flushed, you finally unclasp your bra and slip off your panties with no more grace than your shorts had been discarded with, before perching yourself on the cabinet knives had dully gestured to.

“is this… is this good?” the words slide past your lips before you let them, sounding too pleading for your liking but knives seemed to enjoy that despite a hum being all he offered in return. his strong chest was quickly in front of your eyes, curse his fast snake body, while his hands found purchase on your legs again. with one palm on each of your knees, he gently eased them open, nearly purring at the sight.

“you’re something of a gem, hm?” his voice was low, hands inching up your thighs with sharp nails leaving a trail of goosebumps. “how very kind of you to welcome me with such a,” the forked tongue of his makes a third appearance, “wonderfully prepared gift? such a lovely homeowner…” though sarcastically sweet in tone, his words did nothing but shoot directly between your legs. “i’ve got a keen nose, little rabbit, are you enjoying being my area of study?” his gaze was hard as he looked at you down his nose and from between long lashes. “your most intimate nodes are crying out ‘yes’.” he presses against your folds to spread them with feather light fingertips, much like one would a dissection. spreading you softly, his head tilts to one side while his eyes seem to slowly drag up and down the weeping slit of yours he's not fully exposed. knives wedges himself fully between both of your legs as to not allow you to close them and his other hand joins in on the fun, prodding softly at your entrance. he seems to revel in the small whimpers you make, crystalline tears clinging to your lashes from a mixture of desperation and humiliation at letting him do such to you so easily.

employing a sort of gentleness and patience you didn't think he had, knives slowly eases in one of his fingers down to the second knuckle before pulling it out with a wet 'schlick' to wrap his mouth around it. the taste seemed to please him based on his own moan and he returned to his previous ministrations, softly thrusting the finger in and out of you. with the hand that had been used to spread you, he smoothly switched to rolling gentle circles over your clit, eyes still fixed firmly on watching the way your body reacts. a second finger accompanies the first in its delicate rock, encouraging more of the sweet sticky essence of you to drool out and across his hands. panting and whining, you buck pathetically into his hands with closed eyes and red bitten lips; you miss the way he slides to his knees. for a man so large he is more than quiet, something you can't match with the harsh suckling on your clit coaxing loud cries from you. his mouth curls the slightest bit with a smug smile and you can feel it past the swirling of his tongue and sharp incisors teasing your skin. briefly, you hope he won't bite. the soft plunging motions of his fingers turns harsh alongside the movements of his mouth. he seems eager to have you unravel on his face and, despite your own tattered pride, you can't stave off the shuddering of the orgasm that washes over in the most intense waves you've ever felt. embarrassingly loud slurps echo around the small shed as knives continues his own motions with glee. it's only when you gently push at his forehead that he shifts backwards and up, allowing you some reprieve from what he had just done. you're breathless, to say the least, having been made to come so shamefully on the handsome mouth and hands of this stranger but somehow you don't feel as though you were the only one who had fun despite his firm acclaims of experimentation.

you're struggling to regain your breath while knives looks you over with thinly veiled lust, you figure teasing him for it wouldn't go well so you restrain despite the thick atmosphere begging for some reprieve. while still gasping for air and shaking the post-orgasm fog from your head, he's pushing you down with his body weight and adjusting the way you lay across the cabinet to his personal preference; legs bent around his waist and hand beside your head. with hazy eyes, you look down to catch the way not one but two thick cocks slide out from the slit they had previously been held in. hanging heavy but curved up slightly, thick arousal is pooling at the tips and you think you can see ridges along the base of each. your jaw is slack as knives lets out another one of those chittery laughs.

"scared, bunny? no need, i'll make it work," his smarmy expression is nearly enough to have you shooting something snide back but he's lining up the tip of the lower cock and sinking himself in faster than you can think. "let go of any premonitions, this will be mutually beneficial."

if you could have any thoughts, they'd be nothing more than slurred curses but with the thickness and impossible length occupying and stretching your insides, you're rendered incapable. he's slow enough to give you some time to adjust but still fast enough that your body can't quite keep up with what he's giving; a pleasurable form of purgatory. knives allows his hands to wander your body, one coming to grip and gather your wrists to now rest above your head while the other fondles your breasts harshly. he's grabbing you in a way that feels inexperienced and almost charming though the harsh penetration is tearing you away from the idea. knives trails his hand from your breasts, to your stomach, and back up to grip your throat as he finally bottoms out inside of your tight heat. the wetness and warmth covering him is seeping out and down his tail to leave a lewd trail of combined juices he briefly admires the shimmer of before he's sliding himself out and roughly back in with a resounding slap. a high and needy sound escapes your throat as the tip of his cock taps your cervix and the rest of it rubs across your walls, eagerly taunting all of what's to come. the hand around your throat compresses your blood flow just enough to have your head feeling like it's full of cotton and your body even more pliant for his use. nails tilt your chin to have you make eye contact with the man currently deep in your guts, a glittering and dangerous grin spread across his face. with your eyes on his, knives begins pounding into you with earnest.

all of the sounds that leave you are high-pitched and warbled with unshed tears borne of the hand around your neck and stretch of your cunt. he's letting out strangled grunts and eager clicks at the grip of your wet pussy trying to milk him dry. his second cock his sliding against your clit and lower stomach with every harsh thrust he gives you, rubbing and pulling pleasurably. all of your nerve endings feel ablaze with the way he's using your body in a way that's filled with determination. his head drops down to make contact with your shoulder, his mouth sliding up your neck to replace his hand and add plentiful marks along the untouched skin; he figures an array of bruises will decorate it better than any necklace. dark indigo and rouge dappling the skin as blood comes to the surface, he's enamoured with how it looks tainting your flesh. both of his hands are now around your hips to hold you still for every pump of his cocks along and into your body, forcing you to take it all in full. you're crying with your back arched and chest forced to the ceiling as he continues his fast pace with teeth grazing your nipples. knives is biting numerous times across your tits, imprints of his fangs left in the wake akin to a path on a trail; he's oddly proud of his work. you're beyond your own body, desperate for him to bring you to a second high of the day, hips trying in vain to undilate against his own but his grip is too firm; his unnaturally strong. tongue flicking at your nipples, one cock deep in your guts, and the other beating against your clit, it's not long before you're babbling useless pleas for him to not stop. through choked sobs and moans, you're falling to pieces with his cock nestled deep inside of you. your brain is blank as lights splatter across your vision, eyes rolled to the back of your head and drool leaking from the corners of your mouth. still, his heavy rutting hasn't ceased. every limb of yours is twitching as sobs move past your lips without permission and your hands slide from his grip to claw uselessly at his back from overstimulation until knives is letting out an otherworldly growl as he sinks to the hilt one final time. you can feel the thick ropes of his seed coat your insides as his body curls around you protectively; a mating instinct maybe. he's grumbling lowly as an impossible amount of his spend leaks in and out of you with each twitch of his shaft.

you're still feeling a touch foggy when he pulls out, globs of shared slick pooling beneath you. knives is assessing your form critically, hands and eyes sliding over every bruise and bite left behind from his own roughness. it's almost sweet, how he seems to care for your well being despite his words claiming otherwise, and you simply allow yourself to enjoy the way he's fussing over you. once satisfied, he nods to himself and moves to scoop you up in his arms despite your small whines of protest but your indignation doesn't last long as he slithers you both over to your home, mumbling something about a shared bath; for purely experimental purposes, of course.

#cw: dubcon #trigun x reader #knives x reader #millions knives x reader #trigun maximum x reader #trigun stampede x reader #trigun 98 x reader #trigun smut #millions knives #trigun maximum #trigun stampede #trigun knives #trigun 98

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unhetalia · 15 days

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England headcanons (pt. 1):

Chain-smokes like a motherfucker. Alfred, who doesn't smoke and pretends very hard to think smoking is disgusting, hasn't yet realised where his secret smoking kink comes from.

Currently works for British Intelligence/has infiltrated his own government.

Carries around either a cane or umbrella that hides a sword even though he has never ONCE had to use it. He just feels more comfortable having a sword. (He does also carry around a gun, which, in contrast, has been used often.)

Also carries around his own pen, and absolutely loathes the thought of using someone else's. The pen is a first edition Michel Perchin Serpent in Champagne LE Fountain Pen given to him by Alfred - only ten were ever made and it cost a cool 8k. While Arthur has more valuable things - especially from his time as a pirate and back when he personally knew his royal family - the pen is still one of his most prized possessions.

His favourite tea is actually French Earl Grey - which is Earl Grey with rose petals. Not actually French? But Arthur's still pretty annoyed about it.

As mentioned in a few of my other posts - Arthur is incredibly physical and has kept up with sword fighting and various martial arts over the years, and regularly goes to the gym. He's very disciplined about it.

Tends to eat only for fuel as opposed to enjoyment whenever he's left to his own devices.

If pressed, Arthur will admit his best friend is Francis. Francis would say the same about Arthur.

(Despite their individual body counts, Francis and Arthur have never slept with each other.)

(Arthur doesn't have a lot of friends and has a strained relationship with his siblings, and has always felt that people don't like spending time with him. Even when he was on top of the world, working with his government to become an Empire, he still felt like an underdog.)

On that note, Arthur worked with his government longer than the other Nations, and was a huge part of establishing the British Empire. It made his already fraught relationship with his siblings even worse, and he regrets a lot of it.

Nations get scars very rarely, because very few things have the ability to give them scars - magical weapons is one of those things. Out of all the Nations, England has the most scars.

England is amazing at knitting and crochet, and he gifts Francis crocheted figurines from French cartoons for his birthday every year, which Francis adores. He also knits Canada scarves and gloves and beanies whenever he remembers him.

One of Arthur's most embarrassing memories is getting gonorrhea during his pirate days. He didn't have sex for a month after his healing kicked in - a record back then - and he became a lot more diligent in procuring and using the linen sheaths they used as condoms at the time.

Three of Arthur's back molars are implants made of real gold.

Alfred is the first (and last) person Arthur will say he's ever fallen in love with BUT the closest he's come is with another American - a nurse that took care of him during World War I. She was blonde and blue eyed and once shouted Arthur down when he insisted on continuing to fight even with a bullet lodged in his shoulder. She completely disappeared in April 1917, just before the Americans officially joined the war. He sometimes wonders what happened to her.

#hetalia #ukus #usuk #hws england #aph england #arthur kirkland #aph #i wanna do a mini series for my faves #so ill do england america for sure #austria and prussia #and maybe canada bc idk i like doing a contrast w america #and maybe russia? maybe more #byt i had england THOUGHTS TONIGht!!!#also that last headcanon has a story and its predictabke if you know me #someone guess #m: hetalia #hetalia: headcanon (char)#c: england #✎ hetalia bulletpoint headcanons

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thedomesticanthropologist · 4 months

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I don't know how Whimsical Halsin would be realistically, but I'm a sucker for characters who are old/wise enough to fuck around with their younger companions,

For example:

Saying incredibly SPICY things mid convo,

Or tossing in cringe levels of rhyming/alliteration at unexpected moments

but being absolutely deadpan and not acknowledging that he did it, slipping them in poetically mid conversation in a way that would make people groan and sigh if a bard did it, but because it's HALSIN they all just do a double take like *did he do that on purpose???* and here he is staring straight forward with the most benign facial expression like he has no idea he just made everyone do a spit take.

Example: they see a dragon fly overhead. Everyone's looking up

Halsin: Ah, such majestic beauty. To see a scaled serpent take to the sky with such grace is a privilege. Reminds me of a time in my youth where I found myself beneath such a creature, rutting until the sun rose above us in a cascade of light, casting illumination upon our tangled bodies within the cave that we had taken refuge. Anyways, shall we press on?

Literally everyone: what the fuck did you just say to me right now

#baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 halsin #halsin baldur's gate 3 #halsin the druid

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thesixthplaneteer · 3 months

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The Seed of the Serpent

The Seed of the Serpent is a write up in mine and @crownedinmarigolds VTM canon. It features Noa, Nythanel, and other OCs we have! If you would like a peek at some of what has lead up to this event, click here for a write up by the lovely Crownedinmarigolds. Nythanel has been near fatally wounded and seemingly is unable to recover due to being Duskborn, Thinblood. Noa seeing no other option tries to reconnect with her family much to the dismay of her brother Joaquin. As she waits and hopes for Nythanel to recover she finds herself having a much more difficult time handling tasks and those around her. Hitting a breaking point she decides she needs him back, and needs him back now. Her own studies and reading over Nythanel's alchemical theories leads her to seeking the help of the local Followers of Set. The dawn of the twenty first century is near and their fate unclear.

The descent into the basement was made difficult by the narrow stairs. Julian nearly stumbled several times while carrying Nythanel, causing Noa's dead heart to drop every time. Her grip on the black leather briefcase she carried was so tight her nails tore into the leather. She kept herself composed but with every stumble she was forced to imagine Nythanel’s body becoming more broken, or worse. All this was exacerbated by Joaquin’s teasing of Julian and acting like he was going to drop the wheelchair. She was sure he would have pushed them if she wasn’t in front of the group. It felt like the stairs went on impossibly long before the final step to level ground. The end of their descent brought relief for one anxiety, only to give rise to another. They were now in the temple of the Followers of Set.

At the base of the stairs she quickly made sure her sleek, form-fitting dress was straightened out. It was far enough outside what she normally wore that it added to her discomfort, but at least it was pink. Julian followed, always looking out for the unspoken instruction, placing Nythanel in the wheelchair before checking his collar and brushing down his coat. Joaquin watched them fuss over themselves and chuckled at Noa as she straightened Nythanel’s outfit. Noa had Julian and Nythanel dressed in coats and pants that were freshly pressed and shoes that were shined. They were here on business and she aimed for them to be dressed appropriately. Joaquin of course rebelled against “dressing nice for some blood sucker” and sported a brown leather jacket, t-shirt and jeans. She wanted to remind him at that moment that she too was a blood sucker, but it wouldn’t have done anything but devolve into an argument that would lead to only more frustration and more rebellion. If he wasn’t going to be well dressed, she at least needed him well behaved.

Noa stood up straight and took in the first breath since they started down the stairs. “I need both of you to remain quiet. Look no one in the eyes, and look at nothing longingly.”

“Yes ma’am.” Julian dutifully answered between heavy breaths, taking a hold of the push handles on Nythanel’s wheelchair. Even with all his natural strength added to the power given to him from Noa’s vitae, he was still out of breath from carrying Nythanel down the steep stairs.

Joaquin let out a snort. “Yeah, sure.”

“I’m serious, Joaquin.” Noa said sternly.

Joaquin balked but knew she was right. He should keep his trap shut, for now. Julian side eyed him, a faint air of smugness for knowing his place.

“You wanna be in a wheelchair too, jackass?” Joaquin turned toward Julian with his fists balled tightly.

“I said be silent!” Noa’s voice rose just slightly, her tone becoming harsh.

At that moment she sounded like their father. Far too much like their father for Joaquin’s liking. Far too damn much. But unlike with their father, he obeyed and went silent.

“Julian, stop goading him and pay attention to what you are supposed to be doing.” Noa forced herself to take a deep breath to calm her nerves.

It was bad enough she had to try talking to the Followers of Set without Nythanel being able to assist, but these two seemed like they wanted to sabotage it. The Beast inside her screamed at her to rid herself of these idiots. Drink them dry! It yelled at her. You want to be treated seriously? Then go in with a full stomach! Another deep breath calmed the Beast, a meditative practice when one doesn't need to breathe. It’s not been as effective in recent nights.

“Let’s go.” She commanded and started down the long cement walled hall.

She walked alongside Nythanel, occasionally brushing her hand against his shoulder. A nervous reassurance that he was still there. Joaquin strolled right behind Noa despite his and Jullian's frames taking up the width of the hallway. The hallway was long, unnecessarily so. It seemed the Setites wanted to give their guests time to decide if they really wanted to be here. The lights were dim and warm like artificial candles. Noa was used to working in dim light but the spacing between the lights made it excessively dark. Even with the low light, Noa could see a golden glint at the end. A door, decorated with large red ankhs along with a golden scrolling line of hieroglyphs. When they finally reached it after what seemed like minutes, Noa steadied herself with a deep breath one last time before giving a single hard knock. As if the person on the other side was simply waiting for the courtesy to be observed, the door immediately came open.

The full force of the droning industrial techno playing inside beat against their ear drums. Noa and Joaquin seemed least affected, Joaquin’s own ear drums abused by loud club music and gunfire. Noa refused to allow any sign of weakness in her now that they were entering the temple proper. Julian winced at the sudden sound as his grip on the wheel chair loosened, wanting to bring his hands up to cover his ears. Catching himself, he tightened it once more to not displease Noa. A club goer himself years ago but he still wasn’t ready for just how loud it actually was. Nythanel shifted in the wheelchair. His movements were slow and unsteady but it was clear he was uncomfortable with the noise. Noa looked at him, a feeling of pity and sorrow swelling in her but she quelled it, he wouldn't want her to feel that about him.

The inside of the temple was like a scene in a movie. Stone columns with white cotton sheets hanging between them like sheer dividers. A thin haze of smoke choked the air. Ahead of them through the fabric they could make out silhouettes of people, mingling and entangling together so much that they seemed like a single writhing beast.

The heady smells of incense, sweat, and more besieged their nostrils. Noa was mostly spared, only needing to breathe when she spoke. But the other three had functional lungs. They drew in the smog and were overcome with the earthy, burnt timber and sweet citrus smell making their heads swim. Joaquin and Julian were no strangers to substance use. This mild high wouldn't be their undoing, but it certainly helped them feel a little more relaxed. A little more okay with the pounding rhythmic music. A little more comfortable in a strange place. Nythanel’s cheeks became rosy as he breathed in the smoke and his muscles relaxed.

A voice somehow pierced the thrum of the music. It was calm, controlled, and clear.

“Miss Hidalgo.” Spoke a bald man with a serious face.

He was shorter than Joaquin or Julian by a few inches. He had a strong chin and nose but his face still had a softness to it that, judging by how his suit fit, his body did not have. He was not as opulently dressed as Noa would have expected for a Follower of Set. He had a modest amount of jewelry, just two thin rings and nice cufflinks. His suit was pretty basic, wine color, possibly a high end material. Noa looked at him with a polite smile and faint recognition. She was sure this man was the bouncer in Mexico years ago. It felt strange to be delighted in a familiar face amongst the snake den. Before she could give an answer he spoke again.

“I am Arham.” He introduced himself with a shallow bow. “If you and your party would follow me. Just this way.” He turned and started walking. He spoke like a trained and experienced concierge.

Noa waved her party on to follow the man. Her anxieties ate away at her. Soon they would find out if they walked into a trap, or if a deal could be struck. Eyes leered from around the pillars and the sheets, hands reached out and grasped for Arham and their group. Voices called out to them, inaudible through the music. Julian would look through the corners of his eyes then force himself to look forward, remembering Noa’s instructions. Joaquin scowled, eyes locked on Arham.

Their guide pulled back a curtain to reveal a pair of plain doors. He opened them to reveal yet another dimly lit hallway. Noa’s anxiety fueled her frustration. She wondered if they were just being toyed with. The only calming sight ahead of them were the large doors at the end of the hall. That had to be their meeting room.

“Just through those doors, Miss Hidalgo.” Arham said as he gestured towards their destination.

The doors at the end of the hall were ornate like the ones that had led into the temple. Their handles were golden and their surfaces decorated with a mural that seemed to be made of inlaid gemstones. It was a depiction of a crocodile headed man fighting a tiger. A large snake boarded the mural. Noa couldn’t help the sense of awe. The Followers were an ancient clan and their histories and rituals were so shrouded in lies and half truths, seeing just a glimpse of it first hand was exciting in itself. She considered the meaning behind the crocodile man and tiger fighting… until she realized they weren’t actually fighting, but coupling. A shot of embarrassment went through her for not noticing immediately. Not just for herself, but for playing into what she thought was a stereotype of the clan.

Joaquin let out a sharp laugh at the sight of it. “Think they’ll want us to fuck a tiger?” He said, still chuckling to himself.

Noa cut an angry look at him. It said all that needed to be said and served as a reminder of him needing to be silent. He huffed and looked away, and Noa was thankful for the best outcome of that situation. Refocusing her attention, she took the golden handle and pulled open the door.

The room looked like a lounge and sitting room. Chairs upholstered in velvet of different colors with golden accents. Cushions and large pillows were in piles on the floor. Works of art hung on the walls and rested on pedestals. On the parts of the walls without hanging art there were grand painted murals. The room was lit with only candles, giving a flickering glow throughout the room but no detail was hidden. Standing near a portrait of a naked woman was another familiar sight for Noa.

His hair was yellow gold and skin golden-bronze like the scales of a desert snake, he even glinted in the candlelight. He had a strong and muscled build, broad-shouldered and tall. He wore a silk robe that trailed down to the floor. When he turned to greet them, they realized the robe gave him very little in terms of modesty. The open chest revealed the myriad of tattoos that decorated him. The most prominent one a snake that seemed to slither all over him, the head at his throat and posed to strike out. There were also Ankhs, a lotus flower, a stalking tiger peeking from behind the snake’s body, and filling the spaces between were hundreds if not more hieroglyphs. His hawkish nose was well framed by the rest of his handsome features. Full lips, a strong jaw, high cheekbones. He was the most impossibly beautiful man Noa had ever seen, there was no way to confuse him with any other. The irises of his eyes were golden with slit serpent-like pupils. He had a wide and disarming smile.

“Greetings, Miss Hidalgo! Welcome to our temple, I am so excited to have you here with us.” He spoke to Noa as if the others were not in the room. “This is my wife, Parvati.” He gestured to a pile of pillows in the corner of the room.

At first glance there seemed to be no one, but as Noa’s eyes adjusted further, she saw the Hierophant’s wife. Unmoving, like a waiting predator, was a woman with deep warm skin. She lacked even the attempted modesty garment Harrakhty wore. Her long dark hair draped over her curvy body. Her unblinking gaze intense and seeming to pierce right through them. Her sharp jaw, smooth cheeks, aquiline nose, and full lips made her another image of impossible beauty. The body jewelry she wore framed her large breasts and accentuated the curves of her belly and hips. Lines marked her stomach, implying she may have been a mother in another time.

The woman stirred and watched as they became aware of her. Julian’s eyes were locked on her. He couldn’t help himself or keep his desire completely at bay.

Noa stood next to Nythanel with the other two just behind them and led the conversation. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Mrs Parvati.” Noa said to the woman then looked back at the Hierophant. “And you of course, Mr. Harrakhty. I really am grateful for this meeting.” Her smile is polite and her tone business-like.

“Oh of course!” He said as he drew nearer. His lack of underwear was apparent as the fabric of his robe hugged his body. “All out of the goodness of my heart and all that.” He stopped just a few feet away and looked down at Nythanel who stared ahead, seemingly not aware. “Is this our special man?” He said, leaning down to look at Nythanel’s face.

Nythanel’s head turned slowly and his unbandaged eye met with Harrakhty’s gaze. The glazed over look in Nythanel’s eye gave way to a spark of something deeper inside trying to escape before glazing over again and his posture returned to a neutral state.

“Oh yes, you're very special aren’t you?” Harrakhty commented as he stood up straight again.

Parvati’s gaze was focused on Nythanel. She shifted on the pillows, now sitting up from her lounging position.

“You know Miss Hidalgo. This feels like a very common group for your clan.” He spoke, seemingly refusing to allow any dead air in the conversation, or for her to speak. “Strapping, similar featured bodyguards. The delicate often waifish boss. Someone incapable of caring for themselves.”

As he spoke Noa reached out and took Nythanel’s hand. She hated how much Harrakhty seemed to be familiar with her clan and just how predictable they were apparently. It was obviously meant to be a display to make them uncomfortable or irritable and unfortunately it was working. She wished more than anything that Nythanel were able to speak and engage Harrakhty in this social dance. But he couldn’t, all because of her. She got them into this mess and she will need to get them out. She felt a fire light in her as she felt Nythanel’s grip tighten on her hand.

“It’s all very Giovanni.” Harrakhty continued. “So, I must know, which one are you shtupping?” He said with a smirk but his eyes were not on Noa, they were on Joaquin and Julian.

Joaquin scowled at the question and Julian shuffled uncomfortably, pulling his attention away from Parvati. Idiots she thought to herself. They remained silent like she told them but their expressions and body language were giving Harrakhty all the answers he wanted.

“Ah!” He said with a self satisfied grin.

“With all due respect.” Noa said, the same all business voice she greeted him with. “That is not what we are here to discuss, Mr. Harrakhty.”

“Yes of course!” Harrakhty said with a short laugh. “Apologies, I rarely get to speak with your clan on good terms after that whole, consuming the cappadocians event. My curiosity got the better of me.” As he spoke he sauntered over to the same pile of pillows his wife was sitting on and flopped over onto them, putting his arm around her. She seemed to register his touch and rested her head on his shoulders, but her eyes never left Nythanel.

The robes Harrakhty wore now hid nothing as he reclined with his legs spread. His antics were obviously upsetting Joaquin as he started to shuffle in place, angry he had to stand here and listen to a vampire. Julian was basically drooling while staring at Parvati once more. Noa recanted to herself how important this meeting was to keep herself calm and push down her anxieties. She had to remind herself she still needed Quino and Julian.

“I understand, I have my curiosities of your own reclusive clan. However I am here for a specific reason.” Noa took just a moment to take a breath, unfortunately allowing an opening for Harrakhty.

“Yes well if you could-” Harrakhty’s voice trailed off as his wife's hand ran over his bare chest.

“My love.” She said in a cold pur. Her intense gaze now upon him. “Let her speak.”

The air in the room became thick and Noa was afraid they were going to reenact the mural on the door as they stared into each other’s eyes. Harrakhty then looked back at Noa, with the smirk that seemed permanent on his face.

“Again, apologies. Continue.”

Noa nodded acknowledgement to his apology then spoke again. “As you can see my Nythanel has been injured. He is Duskborn and unable to heal himself. I can help him. But I need to ask you if you can perform a ritual. I have heard rumors of the Followers of Set being able to remove Kindred hearts without triggering their Final Death.”

Both pairs of eyes were on her. Their intense stare. Both so predatory it was no wonder they represented themselves as apex predators. Harrakhty rolled his hand to signal Noa to go on.

“I need you to remove his heart. Safely.” She felt her own heart drop. The worries of everything that needed to go wrong in order to put them in this position of weakness. The spiral of everything that could go wrong from this point coiled around her and squeezed tightly.

Harrakhty let out a deep chuckle, the welcoming warmth waned and the air around him became sinister. “That is a big ask. Tell me Miss Hidalgo, what does an orphan and an invalid have that can be in comparison to an ancient rite reserved only for our most devout?”

“Cut the bullshit will you? Get on with the creep show so we can leave.” Joaquin loudly declared.

Noa quickly shot a scowl at him. She had no idea what he could be thinking or planning but she didn’t want him doing it. She couldn’t tell if he was actually thinking he was being helpful or if he was trying to ruin everything like he always does. Something she found herself wondering a lot lately. Her look cut into him and he became still, scowling back at her. The coiling emotions squeezed tighter on her with embarrassment.

She looked back to Harrakhty. “Could my mortal cohort possibly wait outside?”

“Arham.” Harrakhty called out.

The door they came in pushed open. The same bald man that led them through the temple.

“Yes?” He asked.

“Can you give these gentlemen the tour? Don’t have too much fun now.” He said with a smile.

“Yes sir.” Arham looked expectantly at Joaquin and Julian.

Julian looked to Noa for instruction and Joaquin sucked in air through his teeth but it was clear she was only going to get more upset with him if he stuck around.

“Whatever.” Joaquin said with a huff and walked out of the door, brushing against Arham as he left.

Noa motioned with her hand toward the door and Julian followed.

With the others gone and the door sealed, Noa felt some sense of relief over her. She hated how much having Joaquin out of the room made her feel more at ease. But he’s proven too many times he was too brash. She rested her hand on Nythanel’s shoulder and with new found confidence spoke to Harrakhty.

“With the combination of the disciplines I've studied and my beloved’s own studies, we can create new life.”

Harrakhty allowed a quiet moment, giving Noa a chance to continue before he spoke.

“We can create a viable womb to support the gestation of an offspring.” Noa said, taking a pause to let it start to sink in. “I can facilitate the bearing and birth of you and your wife's child.”

Harrakhty still smiled and let out a quiet chuckle,very amused at the impossible fantasy she proposed. Then his smile dropped and he looked at Parvati who was still hanging onto his shoulder. They stared into each other's eyes like they were having a silent conversation. Then he looked back at Noa.

“You really believe you can do that, don’t you?” There was no more amusement in Harrakhty’s tone or expression.

“I do.” Noa replied confidently.

“How?” Harrakhty asked.

Noa knew she had his full attention now. Few loved the sound of his voice more than him. Single word sentences meant he was focused on something other than himself. “I have all of the details here in this case.” She tapped the briefcase for emphasis. “It will require invasive surgery, and the transplanting of Duskborn reproductive organs into you and your wife. It will require a lot of blood.”

“Thinblood parts? Oh this is very interesting. Tell me, how will it be my child if I am using the gonads of someone else?” Harrakhty asked with all sincerity.

“They will be treated with an alchemical process using your vitae.” Noa answered. “Same with the womb.”

“So not only are you asking for me to remove the heart of your companion, you also want both of us to relinquish vitae to you? All for the promise of a child born in a process of magic and insanity? Tell me, how in the multiple millennia that Kindred have existed and propagated that you are the one to be able to do this?”

“Duskborn have been exceedingly rare until very recently in our history. Even fewer were able to survive long enough to understand their condition.” She gently squeezed Nythanel’s shoulder. “To put it in his own terms, my Nythanel is an elder Thinblood. He has not only survived, but thrived. We now understand so much more of our existence than we could ever have.”

“What if this child comes out as an abomination? How can I know I’m getting what I’m paying for?” Harrakhty sat up and learned forward.

Noa was thankful for the robe falling back over Harrakhty’s privates, and even more confident to have his undivided attention. “You’re a man of faith. I’m sure you understand there are not always guarantees for everything but I can guarantee I will try and try again until you get what you want. We have many more millennia to perfect the process.” Noa hoped it wouldn’t take that long but was more than willing to dedicate whatever it took to make it happen.

“What do you think, my love?” Harrakhty asked Parvati out loud as they looked into each other’s eyes.

She drew closer to him, her breasts pressing against his shoulder. Her hand ran along his chest. She seemed ready to start practicing their part of the procedure. “I want our child.” She answered him in a quiet voice, kissing his neck.

The robe once again covered little as she tugged at it. “You have your answer.” He said to Noa but his eyes were still locked onto his wife.

Noa felt a rush of excitement. She gets her beloved Nythanel back, they will put the theories of their arts to practice. “When will you be able to remove his heart?” Noa asked.

“Full moon. Give the briefcase to Arham.” Harrakhty replied before pressing his lips hard against Parvati’s.

It was obvious it was time for her to go, although she couldn’t help but linger a moment as the pair of elder Kindred lashed out at each other lustfully. Noa couldn’t help but see hope in true Eternity with the one she loved with how even venerable kindred can keep alight a flame of romance. Noa took hold of the handles of Nythanel’s chair and started to push him toward the door. “I believe that is our cue to leave. Are you as excited as I am my love?” Noa practically cooed at Nythanel, giddy with the achievement of negotiating with Setites and the excitement of nights to come.

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roseserpentpress · 4 months

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Long time no post, but here's a post of a fanfic originally finished near new years... technically earlier, and then didn't like something and changed it which took. About a month and a half to get around too... and then promptly continued to dilly-dally in taking photos and posting it (I've also got another book I've bound that I finished in the early summer that I, uh... Still have procrastinated in posting. I do intend to do a yearly recap as well for my bindery fingers crossed as soon as I get the other one posted).

I personally fell in love with this Ginroki x Hijikata fic as I adored the writing style of the author since it is so incredibly beautifully and poetically written. I actually had a conversation with the author about the bookbind, which is why it was higher on the priority list (and since it was easily themed and shorter) but since I had first contacted them the fic had been instead switched to anonymous. As a result, I had to change some typesetting to represent the change, but nevertheless, thank you to the author for letting the fic stay up and a gentle reminder that choosing to orphan, rather than delete fics you don't want associated with you anymore is always an option!

Link as always below the read more :)

Lilac (17k, E)

Gintoki remains quiet, but there’s that twitch to his mouth that Toshirou recognizes as amusement. “It’s true what they call you, then.” He says, “A messenger of the devil.”

“No one has ever called me anything like that.”

“A demon.” Gintoki digresses.

“Yeah, that— I’ve been called.”

#rose serpent press #rose serpent bindery #bookbinding #renegade bindery #fanbinding #sakata gintoki x hijikata toushirou #gintoki sakata #sakata gintoki/hijikata toushirou #sakata gintoki #fanfiction #gintama hijikata #gintoki x hijikata #hijikata toushirou #gintama #ginhiji #gintama gintoki #still not entirely pleased with the gold lettering on the back augh #so it goes i suppose #rather pleased with the typeset though #if youre like why is the purple so many different colours its because for some godawful reason i couldn't just do one photoshoot #of the damn thing #also AGAIN using the lotus pond paper makes it seem like i have no other paper when in fact i hoard and buy paper like its a life raft #for my declining sanity #instant gratification monkey take the wheel every single time im in the vicinity of a fucking stationary/art store. AWFUL.

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vostok3-ka · 25 days

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1943 Tastes of 1949 With a Tinge of Illusion

You’d think that sepia photographs Come to life when you’re the one That lived them, and yet, You eat paper with your eyes The way the Fenris-wolf sank Bloodied teeth into the flesh Of a so-called god; Confess emptiness in temples, On your knees ‘fore your own soul. What is a date on a page Save for shattered memories? You rather think that you’ve slammed Their brittle faces into the earth yourself, And guilt raises its ugly face, Stringy saliva rolling down Your cheeks the way The serpent’s maw weeped white venom Upon Loke eyes, blinding, searing, Just like the way the snow it flashed When you fell from the skies Landing in a bed of harsh cotton and Blossoming rose. You danced once, You know this in the rhythm of your Heart, the way it perks its little face up at Swinging music, rolling waves of instruments, And you step in the empty Space of an abandoned workshed, Your eyes fluttering shut, Music tinkling out, spilling into the Cracks in the walls, in the floor, In your mind, From the little stolen phone on the floor; It is nineteen forty three all over again And there are budding tremors Blossoming in your blood. Laugh! Laugh it all away, Spin arms round the empty air, Tyr lost his hand to the Fenris-wolf, You lost yours to the jaws of Snowed behemoths, mountainous. You rather think it a mercy What they did, Silver shines on left shoulders, And you step into formation; Dance! Dance the night away, It is nineteen forty nine all over again And there is rising confusion spilling Over the gaps in your mind. What is to press fingers to lips, Holding in choking tears climbing up Your throat, merciless, relieving, But to hold a soul back from closure? You rather think if you cried that the horrified Haze you've been living in Will, at long last, become truth.

by Aisha for @catws-anniversary, April 4, for the prompt "1940s"

#poetry #winter soldier #bucky barnes #original poem #mythology references #CATWS10

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ashleyfableblack · 6 months

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A bit of art love for my favourite royal inter-species couple and a moment in time from The Eternal Courtship- their first outing as an official couple at the first Grand Gala of then Princess Twilight's New Canterlot.

Chrysalis extended a hoof to Twilight with a flourish. Twilight looked from the pitted black chitin to the gleaming emerald eyes and blushed. Though her serpentine eyes held an unusual and inviting warmth, the queen's fanged grin was wolfish, inviting much more lurid pursuits. Almost demurely, she reached out and placed her hoof in Chrysalis's.

The towering queen drew her close and began swaying to the rhythm of the royal orchestra. Twilights blush intensified. "I'm afraid I'm not much of a dancer" she gestured with a dismayed flit of her ears towards the assembled nobility "not like them, anyways." Chrysalis smirked. "Then you won't dance like them." Taking Twilight close against her barrel, she rose to stand on her hind legs. Easily a head taller than even Queen Novo and three times the size of any pony present, Chrysalis had loomed menacingly over the other guests. Now, almost twice as tall again, she towered like an obsidian spire, clothed in the alien regalia of a forgotten era. Twilight laughed in as much surprise as joy. She was like a rose-hued banner now, trimmed in gold and lace, dangling from her dark lover's grip. "You aren't one of them, anyways. You never have been." Chrysalis's hoof supported her back with a surprisingly gentle, yet firm embrace. "It's one of the things I love about you." If Twilight's blush had been intense before, it was furious now. Her wings pressed against the queen's forelimb, making to extend and lift herself. She smiled somewhat awkwardly. "Eheh. I'm afraid I'm not much of a flyer, either." Chrysalis extended her own insectoid wings. She lifted them from the gilded carpet with an almost musical hum of their rapid fluttering. "Let someone else be your wings, then." Twilight's eyes went wide as their eyes locked. 'I don't think I know how..." Silently, the large almond-shaped violent pools pleaded. Somehow, in the utterly alien gaze of Chrysalis dual-irised serpent slits, she found reassurance, understanding and the answer she needed. "Then we will learn together." Their lips touched. Cool chitin glided against warm lavender softness, framed by the changeling's fangs. With a broadening smile, Twilight allowed herself to finally let go. She exhaled. With the sigh of love accepted, she melted into her bughorse's embrace and rested her cheek against her crownless queen's barrel. Let them gawk. Let them stare. Let them judge and covet. Their vampire. Their nightmare. Her love.

#my art #mlp au #mlp g4 #my litte pony #twisalis #queen chrysalis #twilight sparkle #love #lgbtq #lesbian #interracial couples #dancing #romance #romantic #couple #traditional art #eternal courtship #ashleyfableblack

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mousegard · 2 months

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after three chapters, three months, and nearly 80,000 words, the current arc comes to an explosive end!

Symphogear SfZ: Aria of the Black Eagle, Season 2

Episode 7: Operation Lost Ark, Part 3

Bias and Saint-Germain's plans to neutralize Suttungr collide. Carol Malus Dienheim makes a grand entrance. Kronya tries yet again to get revenge on a pair of teenage girls. Bernadetta drives a car for the first and last time.

With one last act of silver alchemy, a single expert and subtle transfiguration, the device changed from an inert piece of matter to a bridge spanning half the globe. Every light in the city went out. The humming of power lines went silent. A car racing down the road lurched to a halt, its driver flying through the windshield (pity he hadn’t worn his seatbelt) and splattering on the road. Prelati felt the ground shudder beneath her feet. Her legs quivered, momentarily weakened, and she had to take hold of the device to steady herself. The teleport gems wired into the device burned like earthbound suns before all shattering in sequence, tracing an intricate seal, and above it, above the roof of the shrine, a matching seal traced itself in the air. The leaves on the nearby trees blew toward it. Prelati felt her glasses slip off the bridge of her nose and pressed them back in place. And down from the heavens, emerging from the iris of the seal, descended Carol Malus Dienheim. She clad herself in flowing robes of lapis lazuli, adorned with white lace and gold filigree, embroidered with twisting serpents, writhing and fluttering as the vortices of wind swirling around her caught the edges of rich linens and fine silks and tossed them about. Beneath the wide black brim of a tall peaked hat tied with blood-red silk ribbons glared eyes that shone with the unearthly opalescence of moonstone, steel-blue and silver-gray tinged with shades of phantom rose and lilac.

#symphogear #fire emblem three houses #fanfiction #crossover

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melancholymetropolis · 1 year

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"Namor… I don't have time for this."

The feathered serpent pressed light kisses up my shins, as he pulled the stilettos off my feet. He groaned loudly in response and locked eyes with me. A suggestive smirk on his lips, but the mutant remained silent. Those sweet kisses became sloppy as his hot mouth grew closer to my thighs. His strong hands pulled my rear to the edge of the desk and opened my legs. The pencil skirt I wore rose a little, slightly showing my thong to the man. Something in him shifted when eyeing the lacy piece of lingerie. It was even in his favorite color, turquoise. Namor took several deep breaths, in an effort to calm his growing lust, and looked up at me.

"Tell me what you want, my queen," he said, resting on his knees before me. "Tell what you want and I'll do it. I'll do it in a heartbeat."

I folded my arms across my chest and looked down at my husband. His obedience ignited desire into my being. It was hard to resist him, especially after all those nights we spent apart.

I pulled my skirt over my ass and pushed my thong to the side, exposing my dripping cunt. "Eat it."

Namor hooked his arms around my thighs and pushed them upward. His mouth was on my lower lips in seconds. The hot tongue dragged from my sopping hole to my aching clit. I sighed softly and leaned backward, resting on my arms. My eyes fluttered closed as his tongue lapped up my throbbing bud. Namor moaned loudly at the activity. His thoughts rang into my mind like a church bell.

He couldn't stop thinking about the time we spent apart. The cursed lab that stole me away from him and the needy assistants employed. He understood my passion to save the ocean was genuine and crucial to his way of life, but he simply wanted his wife by his side. He missed cuddling next to my warm body and feeling my skin pressed against his. Namor swore it was but a phase, that he would pass the honeymoon stage of our love soon. But, it had been over a year since we had gotten married and he was still wholeheartedly obsessed with me.

His soft lips slipped my growing clit into his mouth. Namor's tongue lapped against the underside, while keeping suction on the bud. His thumb teased my dripping hole. The pad of his finger playing with the slick as he sucked the pearl.

It could've been the petty up sexual frustration or the fact that he knew my body do well---- but my legs started to shake against his face.

That's it, darling. Cum for me.

He thought the phrase in his native tongue; I melted at the sound.

My hips rolled against his face, as my nails dug into the desk beneath me. My breathing became sporadic as my eyes squeezed shut.

I chanted his name like a prayer and gripped the hair on the top of his head.

"Oh fuck! Oh fuck!"

The orgasm hit me like a wave. Star exploded behind my eyes as my breath hitched in my throat. My mouth hung wide open as the please coursed through me. My thighs clamped around his head, but my husband couldn't care less. His continued to suck the bud, making the orgasm even longer.

You're so beautiful when you scream my name.

The lights began to flicker in the room as the desk started to shake. My powers greatly impacting everything around me. Papers flew off of the desk and my laptop was placed in a drawer. One by one the buttons of my blouse popped open to reveal the matching lacy bra. The shirt slipped down my arms, just as the bra straps did. The clasp of the garment was undone and my breasts sprang free.

I pushed Namor away from my sensitive bud and he rose to his feet. His jewelry undid itself and was placed on the other side of the room. His shorts rolled down to reveal his throbbing cock. Big, thick and all mine.

My panties rolled down my legs and were tossed to the side. I spread my legs wide for him and rested on my palms.

Fuck me.

My voice danced in his mind, making the mutant smirk. He closed the distance between our lustful bodies and gave me a sloppy kiss. His hands all over me. Gripping my breasts. Massaging my rolls. Pinching my thighs. Namor thought of every sexy name in the book and recited it over and over again.

Darling. Angel. Goddess

He worshipped me. Waited on me hand and foot. Made me feel loved in my darkest moments. He was down bad for me, just as I was for him. But, I'll never admit that out loud.

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thebiscuiteternal · 6 months

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As always I am politely asking for any flavor of monster!sang, dealers choice on what kind of monster and how much horror or gore goes into it. old continued ideas or something entirely fresh is good too! Just fuck me up

Meng Yao was sure he felt his heart stop as the massive green, gold, and grey serpent rose up, and up, and up from the surface of the lake where it had been sleeping before it had been attacked.

It bared its fangs, longer than his arm and sharp as fine knives, in a hiss, the grass-like feathers that covered its body and concealed it on the lake bottom now flared out in rage.

And he was the only one left to face it, those fangs covered in red evidence of what had happened to all of the cultivators he'd been sent along with as a servant.

Too terrified to even run for his life, Meng Yao could only press himself flatter against the rock at his back-

Then he noticed, among the flared feathers, dozens, maybe hundreds of broken arrows and other weapons and farm implements that had been improvised into weapons embedded in what he could see of the serpent's shining scales.

"Wait!" he called out desperately, mentally praying to every god he could think of that the creature understood speech, "I- If you don't eat me, I can remove all those human things you've been attacked with!"

The serpant... paused in mid strike. Then it drew back and up, pale jade eyes almost as big as he was tall fixed on him as it tilted it's head, seeming to actually be considering this offer.

"And why would you do that?" a voice with a hint of a hiss asked in the back of Meng Yao's mind.

He wasn't sure if the shiver that went down his spine was from the cold fear still circulating his body, or from the fact that the voice was... not at all what he'd expected. Soft... sweet even, and sounding like a young man close to his own age, not a monster.

It took him a moment to sort out what he was going to say, then another to actually get his voice to work.

"It wasn't my choice to come here," he says, trying to press the tremor out of his words and failing. "I wasn't with them willingly."

"Oh?"

"My father sold me," Meng Yao says, the bitterness that wells up in his voice not faked at all. "He said I should consider myself lucky that I would be assisting cultivators, not sent into a brothel like my mother, but they were just as cruel as the men I'd been around growing up."

Finally managing to get his limbs to work, he bowed as low as he could without having to kneel on the sharp rocks under his boots. "You did me a kindness by killing them, great serpent, and I would like to repay it."

The voice hummed in his mind, still considering, and he kept his head down, unwilling to risk angering it by moving before he was given permission.

"That sounds fair," came the hissing murmur, and he felt the rigid tension in his body release.

"But if you try to use any of them against me, I will not hesitate to drown and devour you."

"I would not dare."

"Up, then," the voice commanded, and when he risked opening his eyes and straightening, he found the serpent's head was on the ground in front of him.

An invitation.

"Where... where do you intend to take me?"

"Beyond the fog is an island. The caves are my home, but the above grounds are comfortable as well. And we will be guarded from sight."

Meng Yao swallowed hard.

Then braced himself and climbed up onto the serpent's head.

Though shrouded in fog on all sides, the island he was carried to did indeed look pleasant. Enough sun broke through the fog from above that it was covered in wide-spanning trees and tall grasses, with plenty of growing fruit and places that looked good for fishing.

Meng Yao suddenly got a pang in his chest at the thought that his mother would have loved to visit a place like this.

The serpent let him get off on the soft beach near a set of cliffs that undoubtedly contained one of the caves it had mentioned, then slithered up onto the sand itself.

Stretched out to almost its full length, it was almost as long as the steps to his father's home had been tall.

"Well?"

"Y- yes!"

He clambered up onto its back and took a knife from his sleeve. From the way even halbards were even stuck in its scales, he had no doubt that a knife wouldn't even penetrate, but it would be useful for prying the assorted weapons loose.

By the time the sun began to vanish into the fogbank and darkness was closing in, he had tossed quite the tidy sum of implements into the sand, though he was sure he was still only a third of the way through them all at most.

"Enough for today," the serpent said. "Build a fire, and I will bring you fish."

It also, in a surprisingly generous gesture, brought him several ragged furs, likely from other things it had eaten, to make himself a bed and blanket on the sand. Though the weather was mild enough that he didn't really need them, he'd always slept better covered, so he was grateful.

Morning came with a new fire and fruit for roasting, then he returned to his task with meticulous diligence. With all day to work, outside of lunch time, he was fairly sure he'd cleared out almost the big weapons and was only down to arrows.

He was fairly sure he would only need one more day for those.

Then he could only hope the serpent would still keep up its end of their deal and let him live. The kindnesses, after all, could be just the raising before the slaughter.

But... he didn't really think that was the case. Though it spoke little, he was sure the serpent seemed... glad to have company outside of the fish in its lake.

He went to sleep on that thought.

As he'd expected, it only took him one day until he couldn't find any more arrows. After he hopped off the serpent's back, he couldn't help being amused by the way it leisurely stretched itself with a deep rumble of relief. "How long have you been collecting those?"

"I do not remember. As long as I have been here, I guess."

His first instinct was to ask how long it had been since it arrived, but he had a feeling the serpent no longer remembered that, either.

When night came, instead of fish, the serpent brought a deer it had grabbed off one of the lake's outside shores. "A gift of gratitude," it said.

When he woke the next morning, he found his furs were unexpectedly heavy.

Once he'd managed to wriggle free enough, to sit up, he could only stare.

Curled up next to him, in robes the same colors as the serpents feathers and scales, was a pretty young man.

#mdzs #jin guangyao #nie huaisang #sangyao #fanfic #spooky jam

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