#the plights of force visions

[konpeitochodai]

𝐅𝐎𝐂𝐔𝐒: 𝐅𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐄𝐧𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫 | 𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐝 両面宿儺

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ a potential series; sukuna x f! reader (tw (?): mentions of illness and violence) ; 1.3k words unedited; masterlist

in the tapestry of history, the heian period was a brushstroke of opulence amidst the canvas of japan’s past, a time when the court was a chalice of culture, brimming with the nectar of artistry and poise. the air was thick with the scent of cherry blossoms, and the rustle of silken robes was the music of the day as nobles engaged in the delicate dance of courtly life.

you, a bloom in the illustrious garden of nobility, were the quintessence of heian splendor. your family, a lineage as old as the cedars that lined the path to the imperial city, was revered, and you, their sole daughter and heiress, were the embodiment of their grace and honor.

yet, whimsy often has a shadow, and yours was a malaise that draped over your vitality like a silk veil over a lantern's glow. illness had visited you, an uninvited guest whispering tales of fragility through the corridors of your being. your days, once filled with the laughter of courtiers and the whisper of brush on paper, now passed in a quieter cadence, punctuated by the careful ministrations of healers and the hushed prayers of your kin.

in this realm where the fantastic and the corporeal waltzed in a slow, intricate rhythm, your path was as unforeseen as the flight of a dragonfly over a moonlit pond.

as dawn's light surrendered to dusk, a calamity unfurled its cruel wings over the village that cradled your noble house. Whispers of smoke curled into the sky, a prelude to the inferno that would soon engulf the homes and hearts of your people. the flames, like ravenous beasts, devoured the tranquility of your sanctuary, reducing dreams and legacies to embers and ashes.

in the sanctity of your chamber, illness had rendered you as immobile as a painting, a silent observer to the chaos that raged beyond the shoji screens. the urgency of evacuation stirred the air, yet it seemed fate had woven a different thread for you. your attendants, faces taut with fear, fled for their lives, leaving you adrift in a sea of solitude, your life's flame flickering in the oppressive heat.

it was in this haze of despair and fever that a figure emerged, a towering silhouette against the backdrop of destruction. his presence was as enigmatic as the moon's path through a cloud-strewn sky. though your vision swam with the dance of your malady, you perceived the strength in his stance, the aura of power that clung to him like a shadow. this figure, a stranger amidst the chaos, stood as the only clarity in the blur of your world on fire.

his motives unreadable, his origins a mystery, he was the unknown variable in the equation of your fate, the last sight your weary eyes held onto as consciousness slipped from your grasp like the final petal of a season's last blossom.

in the thickening smoke, your voice, hoarse and weak, mustered the strength to speak through the veil of suffering, "end this... please, let this be my final reprieve." but the command, even in its plea, was met with a cold indifference from the towering figure. a command, no matter how faint, seemed to stir a distaste within him, a rebellion against the very notion of being ordered.

as the fire's light danced in his eyes, a revelation pierced the haze. he noticed the presence of a large curse spirit, its form twisted and malevolent, clinging to you with a parasitic zeal. this entity, unseen by the fleeing villagers, was a specter of malice, feeding off your life force, exacerbating your plight amidst the chaos.

his gaze, now fixed upon the curse that besieged you, revealed a new layer of complexity to the unfolding drama.

the curse spirit, drawn to the cursed energy that seeped from you, began to feed, siphoning your essence as you lay unconscious, lost to the world. and thus, a relentless battle ensued, a clash of wills and power. the figure, whom the flames seemed to bow before, engaged the spirit in a fierce conflict, each strike resonating with the intent to annihilate. the dance of their combat was as ferocious as the fire that consumed the village, a testament to the fury and the might that these beings wielded.

the battle that unfolded was a spectacle of raw, unbridled power, confined to the space where only the strongest curses dared to tread. sukuna, revered and feared as the disgraced one, found himself in an unusual predicament. he had only allowed a fraction of his immense power to surface, a sliver of his true capabilities, confident in his supremacy over any adversary.

yet, the cursed spirit that emerged from your body was no ordinary foe. it was a force to be reckoned with, its strength seemingly bolstered by the cursed energy it leached from your unconscious form. each exchange between sukuna and the spirit was a maelstrom of violence, a testament to the spirit's unexpected might. sukuna’s blows, usually decisive and fatal, were met with a resilience that bordered on the implausible.

as the fight raged on, sukuna couldn't help but entertain a thought, a morbid curiosity that gnawed at his pride. if you, whose body seemed so fragile and unassuming, were to perish, what magnitude of cursed energy would be unleashed? the spirit's tenacity hinted at a latent power within you, a reservoir of cursed energy that belied your outward frailty.

sukuna, engaged in this fierce struggle, found himself pushed to exert more of his power, to tap into deeper wells of his curse, not out of necessity, but to satisfy his own growing intrigue. what secrets did your weak body hold? what potential did it mask? these questions fueled his ferocity, driving him to dominate the spirit that dared challenge him, all while pondering the enigma of the cursed energy that lay dormant within you.

sukuna, in the midst of the battle with the malevolent spirit, decided it was time to end the charade. he unleashed a devastating increase in his power, amplifying it by a quarter, which sent shockwaves through the battleground. The spirit, previously feasting on your energy, stood no chance against such a formidable force.

the air itself seemed to shudder under the weight of his might, and the spirit that had been leeching off your energy recoiled, overwhelmed by the sudden onslaught.

sukuna’s intentions were clear; he was poised to end not just the battle but also your life, to absorb the unique cursed power that had piqued his interest. as his hand reached out, the world seemed to stand still, the finality of the moment hanging heavy in the atmosphere.

but then, a flicker of change swept through Sukuna's domain. his senses, sharp as ever, picked up the approach of a multitude of sorcerers, their combined presence enough to cause even the disgraced one to take pause. It wasn't fear that stayed his hand, but rather a recognition of the opportunity that lay before him. the thrill of the chase, appealed to him the most.

with a swift decision, sukuna altered his plan. rather than dispatching you and facing the incoming sorcerers, he chose to whisk you away, making an escape not out of necessity but as a deliberate act to fuel the narrative he reveled in. the chase would continue, and you, now an integral part of this high-stakes game, unknowingly was now caught in the eye of a storm, a valuable piece in sukuna’s grand design, as he led you both into the unknown…

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ hello !!! this is my first ever attempt at the prologue of a series !! but i’m sort of unsure if this is interesting enough to keep going lol…i enjoyed writing it but idk i like writing drabbles and such and would like to receive requests !!! maybe i should’ve put that into a formal post lol lol. but yeah, i hope you enjoyed and let me know if i should continue this series

#⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡まりこからやで〜 #𝐅𝐎𝐂𝐔𝐒: 𝐅𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐄𝐧𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫 #呪術廻戦 #両面宿儺 #宿儺 #jujutsu kaisen #ryomen sukuna #sukuna #sukuna ryomen #sukuna x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #sukuna ryomen x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #heian sukuna

[writeyouin]

LMK shadowpeach x foreign fem reader? Its readers first Christmas in China and wants to spend it with the monkeys! Got them a Christmas gift too that’s fitting for the three of them. For some cute fluff, she made some delicious treats from her home country (I probably would make them fry bread or fruit related sweets of the sort)

Sun Wukong X Macaque X Reader (Poly-Shadowpeach) – Chinese Christmas

A/N – So this went a myriad of ways in my head and I kept changing it, and now it’s super different to what I first thought was going to happen. Anyway, here’s the end result, and I got to do some cool research on Christmas in China which was really interesting.

Warnings – None.

Rating – T

“Would you please calm down?” Macaque growled at Sun Wukong, annoyed since his partner was being more irksome than usual.

Granted, the pair had recently made up after all their years of fighting, but sometimes… Well, the Monkey King had a lot more energy than Macaque, and he wasted it in frivolous ways, always bouncing around and rarely bothering to stay still unless he was choosing to be inconvenient and lazy, in which case it was impossible to make him get up and do whatever was required of him.

Sun Wukong was equally displeased with Macaque, who didn’t seem to be taking his plight seriously.

“Calm down?” He wailed, his search continually frantic as he flew from mountain top to mountain top. “Who can calm down at a TIME LIKE THIS?! (Y/N)’s missing!”

Macaque rubbed his temples, feeling a headache begin to form. “They’re not missing, they’re probably just at their house or-”

“ON CHRISTMAS?” Sun jumped in front of Macaque, grabbing him by the shoulders and wrapping his tail tightly around the darker simian, “Not a chance! I planned everything for today. We were going to go ice skating, get some wrapped apples, sing karaoke, drink hot chocolate, go to that new noodle bar- There’s just no way (Y/N) would miss all that.”

“… Fine. If you must continue this inane search, could you use your gold vision and get it over with already?”

Sun raised a mischievous eyebrow and smirked, “And miss out on the fun of the search?”

Macaque sighed irritably, “You’re seriously having fun with this?”

“Well yeah. What’d be the point if I found (Y/N) immediately? It needs to be dramatic.”

With that, the Monkey King got back to his search, whilst Macaque stepped away to take a breather, and possibly to brood if the mood struck him; relationships were exhausting. As soon as he left Wukong, his sharp hearing picked up your voice at the bottom of the mountain.

“Shoot-” You said upon clearly dropping something.

Macaque smiled as a more forceful expletive followed, and listened more intently. Evidently, you were carrying something and your bag had split. He chuckled and took pity on you, waiting till you had recovered your items before casting out a shadow portal that brought you directly in front of him.

Having been ready to take a step that was no longer in front of you, you stumbled into Macaque’s open arms.

“You always trip,” He commented drily, “You think you’d be used to that by now.”

You smiled up at Macaque, pecking his cheek before replying, “I don’t think I’ll ever be used to that. You always do it when I least expect it.”

“Then you’ve got to learn to expect the unexpected.”

“If I did that, there would never be an unexpected event and my life would become oh so dull.”

Macaque began a witty retort, but he was drowned out by Wukong who hurried over to meet you, crushing you in a hug, clingy as ever. Whenever you were around, there was hardly a moment wherein he wasn’t holding onto you in some manner.

“Peaches!” He exclaimed joyfully, using your affectionately awarded nickname, “I knew you wouldn’t abandon us on Christmas. Where were you? You’ve already wasted half the day.”

“It’s only ten,” You protested.

“Yeah, well I would’ve been there for you at six if we were meeting at your place.”

That was a lie. If it was up to Sun Wukong to come to you, you knew that Macaque would have to drag him out of bed and that it would take him hours to wake from his sleepy state.

“If I say I brought presents, will that make it up to you?” You held up your bag; Macaque smiled when he saw the knot you had tied in the bottom to patch the split.

Sun immediately pushed you away to snatch up the bag, though his tail remained wrapped around your wrist.

“Share,” You reminded him, bringing Macaque back into the loop.

“Can we open these now?” Sun asked, already tearing at the gold paper which marked the presents meant for him.

“Apparently so.”

Macaque was much gentler with his sliver foiled presents. You hadn’t bothered to write any cards or tags. You couldn’t read or write Chinese, and your simian companions were equally unskilled in your native language. Instead, it was easier to treat them like the sun and the moon and wrap their gifts accordingly.

There were some generic little presents at the top of the bag, but soon your loves got to the gifts you had spent months lovingly crafting. Shawls, knitwear, and repaired clothing that both of them had mourned when damaged in battle made the bulk of the gifts. In a second smaller bag were the presents you had made fresh the night before. They were treats you missed from home, sweet breads, pastries, sugared fruits, and brandy snaps.

“Oh yeah,” Sun Wukong bragged, taking the first bite of a cream-filled sugar cone, “We’re going to have a feast tonight.”

“If we make it to tonight alive with all you have planned,” Macaque stated drily, though he spared an affectionate pat to Wukong’s head.

“All you have planned?” You asked, uncertain as to what anyone could do on Christmas Day when everywhere was closed. Alas, you were thinking of home, which differed greatly from China in many ways, Christmas traditions being one of them.

“Well, duh.” Sun Wukong placed a hand proudly on his chest and stood in a heroic position atop a newly summoned cloud. “Do you really think that I, Sun Wukong, the Monkey King and Great Sage Equal to Heaven would have anything less than a perfect day planned for my two true loves?”

“Funny,” Macaque chuckled, tying his new shawl around his neck, “I thought your two true loves were sleeping and making Wukong Dating sims.”

“Oh yeah? And what about you? You only love puppets and being all dramatic and emo.”

“And I love it when my boys don’t argue,” You said, stepping between them before their little spat turned into a contest which would inevitably lead to a fight. Granted, the three of you were a throuple now, but Sun Wukong and Macaque still had a lot of bad blood and unresolved history; some days were more difficult than others when they were learning how to choose love and forgiveness over anger and spite.

“So, what’s on the agenda for today?”

Wukong grinned and held you to his side, throwing his free arm up as if physically showing you the day’s schedule while he listed everything off.

Macaque approached you and took your hand gently in his, “Is that all okay? It’s probably a lot different to where you come from.”

You smiled bittersweetly, thinking about all the traditions you would miss out on and how Christmas was more family-oriented where you were from.

“It’s- It’s different to what I’m used to, but… I don’t think that’s a bad thing. I’m just happy to be with you two.”

At that, Sun Wukong softened. He stood in front of you, his tail curling around your waist, “Hey, we don’t have to do this if it’s too much. We can try your traditions if you want.”

“Next year,” You promised. “I want to see how you do things.”

Sun Wukong smiled at both you and Macaque. He couldn’t believe how lucky he was. He had spent far too long alone, and now he had two people he could spend the holidays with, and even more friends who you were all going to meet; he wouldn’t have it any other way.

#lmk #lego monkie kid #sun wukong #six eared macaque #monkey king #Liu Er Mihou #liu er mihou x reader #liu er mihou x you #sun wukong x reader #sun wukong x you #shadowpeach #shadowpeach x reader #shadowpeach x you #six eared macaque x reader #six eared macaque x you #chinese christmas #fanfiction #fanfic #reader insert #reader

[tiyoin]

I see your anxious reader and raise you this. Depressed, anxious, ADHD, mild autistic reader. :)))) my life is a living hell! :))))))))) *shakes and stemming violently*

🫵 YOU

you get it.

i don’t have autism (i think, gotta get that checked, but it’s highly suspected that i have audhd -from my lovely therapist🫶) so i don’t want to misrepresent it or offend anyone. but you’re literally the strongest soldier out there. like im struggling with just the 3 and my life is already a hellscape.

but as someone with all of the top 3 let me tell you- they were HUGE influences on how twisted anxiety reader acts.

is reader going to have a special fixation? yes! but will it be on an object… possibly no, but IT’S GONNA BE ON PEOPLE.

they’ve already considered grim a ‘safe person cat’ and subconsciously think of him as an emotional support animal (like i did with my late dog) so you can expect more of grim and reader!!

Is reader gonna self destruct as soon as they feel like experienced ‘rejection?’ ABSOLUTELY, they’ll pull away at the slightest chance their vulnerability was seen as ‘too much’ or if the person got uncomfortable

and obviously by the title reader is socially anxious. but because of recent events i’ve found a deeper level of experiences with it and reader is about to hit a new plight of events!!

but imagining reader with the 4 horsemen of the mental illness (that’s what i call them cause everytime i got diagnosed w smthn i swore i heard the trumpets of death) their life would be sooo much harder. just because there’s so many contradictions between them.

reader needs a schedule to feel organized but they can’t keep to the schedule because all their dopamine went into creating said schedule. and they’re procrastinating.

reader wants to talk to someone but they just realized eye contact is too much for them. but they were taught to look at people when talking or it’s rude so they’re just 👁️👁️ staring

reader had a surge of energy, of dopamine and they were out-going, friendly, talkative- everything was going right, but then the next day they’re hit with a huge slump. ofc reader is in despair because see they can do better, be better!

and it frustrates them to no end.

reader at the monstro cringing at the food they were given. you bet it tastes amazing! but the side dish is looking at you weird, and it’s touching the main dish… no! it’s not a problem, not at all! but… there’s an uncomfortable feeling you’re experiencing, and you do everything in your power not to be rude.

ofc reader gets embarrassed by this. they’re acting like they’re 5!! but… the food is contaminated and you can’t eat it ‘pure’ anymore. and don’t get the reader started on the texture of the veggies, it makes them shudder. like it’s good! but there’s smthn about it.

reader who notices everything but forces themselves to have tunnel vision because everything is just too much.

i’m taking this one after myself, but when reader is nervous they have a sign. ofc rook was able to decipher it in a split second, but they’ll always scratch their nose or rub their hands together like they’re plotting smthn

yeah, plotting of to escape!

reader who wants to fit in soo badly, but no matter what they do they always feel like an odd ball. but when they hang out with the odd balls they still don’t fell, quite right. reader is gonna experience a constant limbo of ‘where do i belong? why can’t i fit in anywhere?’.

HAHAHAHA READER BEING ABLE TO REMEMBER THINGS TO THE SLIGHTEST DETAIL WHEN THEY WANT TO BUT ASK THEM TO REMEMBER SMTHN IMPORTANT N THEY GO BLANK

but don’t worry anon, our lovely twisted anxiety reader is gonna go through it 🙈

#tiyoin’s cuties 。 ඞ 。 #twisted anxiety 🌀 #twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader

[bits-and-babs]

⋆ 𝐏𝐎𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐃

Dark!Commander Mills x f!Reader

word count: 3.7K

warnings: 18+ MDNI, Dead Dove Do Not Eat; this fic may be unsettling for some readers. Dark!Mills, Chasing Predator/Prey, fear, tense scenes. DubCon [Non-Con Themes?]. Mentions of body hair, Size Difference/Size Kink. Pussy slapping, unprotected p in v sex, tummy bulge, claiming, cream pie

➛ mills masterlist I| main masterlist |I send an ask I| taglist

Jagged bark digs into the skin of your back through the thin, soft cotton fabric of your shirt. You feel the amber tree sap seep into the canvas, sticking uncomfortably to your back and clinging to you as you try to ease your hyperventilation. The cells of your lungs vibrate with alarm, stinging as you suck in mouthfuls of oxygen.

Get away.

The sunshine thrashes you, your skin slick with the sweat that rolls down your temples. Heat ebbs at the edges of your mind, teasing you with the promise of unconsciousness. Rest. It urges you to let your knees slump, to ease your aching body down to the forest floor and close your eyes for a moment– you can’t. You can’t be certain how far ahead you were or how much of a head-start he had conceded.

It had been freezing when you awoke, the cold biting your skin raw even as it thawed. A low hum deafened your ears, subconscious tears frosting your coarse eyelash hairs together and forcing your lids shut. Panicked, you had pushed the heels of your palms to your eyes in an attempt to melt the frosty glue, feeling something slippy and thick smear across the skin of your cheekbone.

The metal tang to the scent that pierced your nostrils indicated you were bleeding, pain leaping forward in your skull and forcing your eyes open in your discomfort. Like a mallet smashed over your head, the sounds of your surroundings cracked through your ear drums. A deafening siren screamed, blurring your vision with the intensity of its volume. Glass tinkled against the metal shell of the cryogenic chamber as you’d wearily pushed yourself from the leather seat you had called home for an estimated double solar-cycle. Your limbs were stiff, unused and preserved in ice for twenty-four months.

Green flooded your vision as you rose to your feet, a flashing light on the data pad of your chamber indicating your apparent survival following defrost. You’d been thankful to see your vitals displayed across the screen– you had felt so awful upon waking that you were almost certain you had died.

Relief that had flooded your veins curdled into distress when the data pad beeped, a cursor swiping across the pixels to dismiss the notification of your stirring.

You hadn’t given the scene much notice from then, jittery fear shuddering over your skin and forcing your feet forward. The ship that had meant to deliver you to Somaris was nowhere in sight, but debris pieces of the vessel had lay strewn across the forest floor. Orange embers still glowed within the metal of some large slabs of metal.

The realisation had been slow to arrive, the throbbing remnants of a concussion sweeping nausea throughout your body as you stumbled over the fallen trees. The piercing ring of the alarm continues to circle your agitated mind, tormenting you with the sinking reality of your plight. Stranded on a planet far beyond the solar system you had come from, surrounded by alien creatures you hadn’t seen stored in information holo-pads and without a ship to re-enter orbit– all while attempting to avoid the person who you had no doubt was hot on your heels.

Initially, you had assumed that the scaly, lizard-like animals were causing the snapping of the twigs in the thick treeline of the forest. While some were humongous, you noticed some were of a smaller size. Even the creatures that reached your hips posed a significant enough threat for you to avoid them by ducking behind tree trunks and bushes, their sharp teeth dripping with saliva when they caught your scent.

Whipping around at the sound of another ‘crunch’, you’d caught sight of him. Long, ebony hair fell in strands in front of his face; his brows pinched together in a stalker's concentration. His lips set in a grim, thin line, recharge-blaster aimed directly at your calves. The amber sap that had coated your skin from the trees appeared to have drenched his eyes, irises burning a bright honey colour in the brutal sunshine.

You hadn’t stopped running since, chest heaving as the cells of your lungs screamed at the intensity of your pace. The thick fabric of your flight suit, coated in leather around the collar, was heavy to carry, your legs aching as you’d lept over each of the fallen trunks in your way.

Shuddering at the memory of the hours you have spent evading capture, you inhale shakily in an attempt to ease your thumping heart. It threatens to crack your sternum, bludgeoning the bone with its rapid pace. Even though you’d stopped for some time, dread kept your heartbeat thrumming like the wings of the birds on your home planet, your blood rushing in your ears and drowning out the squawks of the flying lizards, their beaks long and sharp, wings leathery with clawed hands at the joint.

A stream trickles nearby, the running water rippling around the surrounding rocks. The breeze is cool against your face, tickling your cheekbones in a soft kiss. Despite the rustling of the leaves, the babble of the small brook, and the distant hiss of the hot spring geysers, it’s utterly quiet.

Foreboding chills you to the bone, wringing you dry.

It feels off, this delicate balance of stillness. Trepidation crawls up the vertebrae of your spine and prickles your skin with goosebumps. There’s an ambience; thick with something sinister. It coats your surroundings and lingers in the air like unsparked lighting, threatening to pounce.

Your hair stands on end, blood freezing along with the beat of your heart when you hear it; the zooming charge of a blaster.

“You can’t run from me forever.” It’s delivered with an alarming deadpan, his even voice ricocheting off the tree line. You can’t tell where he is like this, your neck reeling on its shoulders as you frantically search the area.

Darting your eyes amongst the bushes, you spot him- his footsteps cautious as he picks each footfall carefully. He’s learnt from his previous mistake, ensuring not to reveal his position with a snapping twig.

You swallow back a whimper, skirting around the trunk of the tree. Palm pressed to your nose and mouth; you hear your trembling breaths as you attempt to smother them. It’s terrifying, the level of noise you make. You’re certain your pulse gives away your hiding spot- that the vibration of the very cells of your being is connected to an amplifier and blasting through the woodlands.

In contrast, your pursuer is almost silent, barely making a sound as he picks through the undergrowth. You wonder how it’s possible for such a large man to make so little noise. He’s so careful, so silent that you pause your breath to listen for him better. Where-?

“Sweet Thing…” you hear him coo, a slight taunt to his voice that makes your nails dig into the tree's bark. Your lungs threaten to scream, ankles promising to buckle beneath the suffocating pressure.

Crouching as low as you can onto the balls of your feet, you attempt to shuffle around the trunk's circumference. You’re careful to test each footstep, feeling for fragile foliage beneath the sole of your shoe before setting it on the floor. You swallow thickly, wincing as the dried leaves rustle quietly.

It’s as though time momentarily stops. The rubber of your heel catches on the roots of the tree, slipping down the curved surface and sending your foot crashing through the sun-baked foliage with a sickening ‘crunch.’

Oh.

Tensing up all at once, your muscles pinch with fear. You fail to suppress the heaving breaths that rattle through you now, sucking in mouthfuls of oxygen and wheezing in terror when you exhale.

“Hmm,” a hum sounds to your left, loud to your ears. You bristle, the seams of your person screaming that you need to move, to run. Instead, you stay rooted to the spot, fight or flight bested by the primal instinct to be still. To hide. The atmosphere shifts, the chill of the breeze twisting to an icy disquiet.

Don’t. Don’t move, be still. If you’re still, he won-

They crawl across the curve of your jaw at first, fingertips creeping along the line of the bone before gently grasping your chin. White hot fear holds you perfectly still as his thumb pushes into the soft flesh of your cheek, the scrape of his knuckles biting into your skin as they purse your lips together. With your feeble attempt to shake him, his grip turns solid.

“Got you.”

His gruff voice rasps against the shell of your ear, lips brushing the thin skin and raising goose pimples across your neck and down your spine. Breath caught in your throat, you barely manage a whimper of response– the sound cracks in your vocal cords and sounds more like a startled exhale.

Your resolve fractures into tiny shards as he uses the grip on your chin to tilt your head backwards. Tension cracks between your shoulder blades at the awkward angle, your muscles straining as he pulls them taut. There’s a tensity at your throat, too, the thew connecting your jaw and neck almost pained by the extreme flex.

Amber. The thin strips of gold lay stark against the pitch black of his dilated pupils, irises merely a slither as the abyss swallows them whole. An eagerness paints his expression, even as his thick, dark brows pinch together in concentration. The hulking frame of your hunter stands above you, neck practically folded over to stare down at your kneeling form. He’s scanning your face, assessing each aspect of your visage and taking in the details. The paw grasping at your face tilts it left and right as he searches for… something.

Again, you wail as you feel his thumbprint dig into the soft flesh of your cheek. It braces against the edge of your molars, prints embedding– branding itself into the skin beneath it.

“Shh-Shh,” He hushes you softly, voice somewhat soothing now as he sweeps his knuckles across your temple and over your cheekbone. “Quite the hunt. Chased you all over, 70652. ”

The five digits of your passenger number ring through your eardrums like the alarms that had alerted you to your crash landing. It flits across his expression, a smug, mocking look as the realisation strikes you between your ribs like a wet blade—the pilot. Commander Mills, you had been told before cryostasis, was a skilled enough aeronaut to deliver you safely to the destination of Somaris. It appeared he had failed his mission.

“I- I don’t-”

“Everyone in the cryo-bay is dead,” he speaks over you, matter-of-fact in his unwavering tone. Your eyelashes flutter closed, confident Mills can feel your pulse pump blood through your veins as he trails his fingertips down your jugular. It tingles, the feather-light touch, adrenaline rushing over your body in surging waves. “It’s just us.”

“Hngg-” you mewl as he crouches behind you, dragging his lips gently across your pulse point as he breathes you in- the scent of your evasion. Soil coats you in an earthy smell, the metallic tang of blood from the scrapes of the thorny undergrowth. Mills groans against your jugular, scraping his sharp incisors over the thrum of your heart while savouring you.

“Aren’t you lucky?” He whispers, gravelly voice barely registering at this volume. Mill’s hand slips down your throat, calloused fingertips tracing down your central points. Your throat, your sternum between your breasts. The deliberate trail has your breath quickening, an underlying threat of danger making the hairs on your arms stand on end. “Lucky that I found you before those creatures did? Hmm?”

The delicate intonation of his question is deceptive. He’s not being kind- he’s mocking you. Still, the enamel of his teeth sinking into the concave connecting your neck and shoulder has you crying out, wetness pooling between your thighs.

“Mhm,” he lathes his tongue over the indents his teeth leave behind, splaying his fingers wide as he trails his palm over your stomach. Need unfurls beneath the weight of his hand, twisting and coating your abdomen when his fingers dip just beneath the waistband of the joggers you had been provided before entering cryostasis. “This... Is thanks enough.”

Heat creeps across the apples of your cheeks as you feel his hand slip further into your pants and wedge beneath your panties. You can do nothing but turn your hot face away from him, squeezing your eyes shut when his fingers brush through the thatch of curls across the curve of your pussy. Mills hums softly, your only warning before he’s sliding the pad of his finger through your slick cunt.

“Shit,” he grunts softly, the tip of his nose trailing up the length of your jugular. “So wet for me already.”

Sinews in your jaw ache at the force with which you clench your jaw, trying desperately to swallow down the moans that threaten to bubble up from your throat. Mills is circling his fingertip just barely over your clit now, the delicate touch coiling a throbbing heat between your thighs.

It’s a subconscious response, one that bypasses your brain and jolts your hips forward onto his hand. You don’t mean to, your fingers sinking into the soil beneath you as your body tenses. It sends a bright, hot arc of pleasure through your body and you wail raggedly, the short-lived friction enough to blur your vision.

Mills leaps.

Ripping his hand from your pants, he grabs ahold of your waist in a bruising grip, flipping you over onto your back harshly. It’s so fast, the world careening sideways. When you land it almost winds you, your spine hitting the ground with a thud. Twigs and rocks dig into your flesh, but Mills gives you no real opportunity to complain when he pins your body down with the hulking weight of his own.

Urgency spurs Mills on, pushing his fingers under the waistband of both your joggers and your panties before yanking them down your thighs. He doesn’t bother to remove them, abandoning them over your shins. They bunch around your ankles, movements restricted by the fabric. Your body is trembling, buzzing with something far from the fear he had originally inspired in you.

Mills is huge. Broad and muscular, when he leans his body over yours he almost blocks your whole line of sight. His muscles shadow through the thin fabric of his shirt, sweat causing the material to cling to his damp flesh. The chase across the forest seemed to have had little effect on his athletic frame, the exhaustion that had afflicted you unapparent when he pushes your knees back against your chest.

“Just look at you. Trembling. Panting. It’s gorgeous.” Subtle cruelty drips from his tongue when he praises you, watching your nipples harden as your folds are exposed to the cool air. Honey irises drag over your sopping cunt, greedily lapping up the view. You shouldn’t be enjoying this, so exposed to a stranger you had been running for in fear of your life just moments before.

“Please,” you beg, pathetic sobs cracking in your throat at the desperation to be touched.

“You’re in no place to be directing me, Sweet Thing.”

Despite his apparent refusal, Mills is pushing the trousers of his flight suit past his hips to expose his cock. Again, he refuses to waste time in removing them entirely, removing just enough to ease himself out of the confines of the material. You only catch a glimpse of his cock before he hoists your thighs over his pelvis, but your heart seizes at the sight– an angry, red tip leaks precum that smears across the inside of your thighs, veins protruding across the large shaft. You can’t fit tha-

God, he pushes the pad of his thumb into your clit and you yelp, seeing stars. A steady, wicked throb of bliss pulses through you as he applies pressure to the bundle of nerves, swiping his print back and forth. It’s overwhelming, and you can’t help the way your hips jolt as you feel him attempt to breach your entrance with the head of his cock.

“Stop moving,” Mills orders, hand wrapped around his dick as he sweeps through your folds. You’re sobbing now, tears welling in your eyes as he continues to abuse your swollen clit. He slips again, dark eyes flicking up to your face when your hips jolt upwards to chase his touch, the build of your impending orgasm catching you off guard with how quickly it seems to blossom. The third time, when the tip of his dick notches the inside of your thigh rather than taking root, his patience snaps.

Mills suddenly draws back from you, removing his hand from your clit before bringing his open palm down on your throbbing cunt with a brutal slap. Pain bows through you, blending seamlessly with your bliss and causes a sharp, high pitched cry of his name to tumble from your lungs. In your shock, your hips momentarily still. Taking advantage of your dazed state, Mills quickly lines his pulsing cock against your cunt and drives home, swiftly ramming into you with an abrupt snap of his hips.

A haggard gasp rips through your throat at the sudden intrusion, the painful stretch of his cock cracking through you and making your eyes roll back. Dirt cakes under your fingernails as you grasp feebly at the damp soil, trying and failing to find any kind of purchase to ground yourself.

“Take it,” Mills orders, his gruff voice impossibly reaching lower octaves as he pushes his length further into you. He sits back slightly, his eyes almost pitch black with how his pupils swallow them up as they settle on your cunt. Fascinated, he watches your lips stretch around his girth and paint his protruding veins with your slick. “Make it fit— Shit!”

His crude growl scrapes your eardrums as he bottoms out inside of you, hips flush with your own. You can’t breathe, feeling as though he’s big enough to settle amongst your lungs. You heave shallow breaths, your head pulsing with mind-numbing dizziness.

Then he’s moving. He drives forward at first, reaching depths inside you that make your abdomen ache before pulling out of you. The stark emptiness he leaves you with is short-lived, thrusting forward and stealing what little oxygen you had swallowed down.

Heat simmers through you with each shred of the head of his cock against something blinding inside of you. It gives you no room to think, to move, the cruel pace Mills sets. It’s merciless, pummelling into you and driving you up across the forest floor. “Fuuuuck, that’s good,” Mills groans loudly, holding on tight to your hips to prevent you from sliding away from him. You sob brokenly, hitting his chest with the heel of your palm as you struggle against the orgasm that’s practically hurtling towards you. Christ, his dick is so hard, ramming through you and pushing up against your cervix and causing a delightful ache.

The wet sounds of him thrusting into you are obscene, slick and desperate as he begins to pull you down onto the snaps of his hips. Fat tears stream down your cheeks, collecting in your hairline as you sob his name over and over.

“Look at you,” Mills practically snarls, eyes set on the bulge in your lower abdomen and in awe of what he finds there. Fuck fuck fuck. You can see him, see the outline of his cock driving in and out of you through your abdomen. “Mine.”

Through your haze, you feel Mills press his giant palm against your abdomen, feeling himself twitch and thrust inside of you. His forehead drops against your shoulder, hips beginning to stutter as your walls flutter around him.

It’s overwhelming; the intense pace, the brutality of his thrusts, the way your clit brushes against the pubic hairs on his lower pelvis. You sound fucking wrecked, wails spluttering with each devastating rock of his hips.

“Aha-ah- ohfuck,” you babble, eyes rolling back as your body curls inwards. You’re burning, tightening, your orgasm creeping across the pit of your stomach. “I-I’m gonna-“

Mills groans loudly, and your back arches suddenly when he bites into your collarbone. His teeth sink into your flesh, hard enough to draw blood, and the pain shoves you right over the ledge you’d been dancing over. You cum with a scream of his name, clamping down around his cock as ecstasy surges through you from head to toe. Your vision blurs, hearing cuts out.

“Shit,” you hear him spit distantly, despite the close proximity to your ears. Mills’ hips push up deep inside of you, his body lurching and trembling as he cums inside of you. It feels, even in your altered state of consciousness, like it takes forever. Milking him endlessly, his breath shuddering against the wound on your clavicle as he gently grinds into you to ease himself down from the high.

There’s no movement, no sudden release of your body and flopping to the side. Mills stays stuffed within you, your mixed cum dribbling down the inside of your thighs as he squeezes the flesh of your hips with his palms.

Your sobs of his name had been loud, noisy enough to draw in all kinds of lizard creatures, but Mills seems insistent on remaining like this, scraping his teeth across the curve of your shoulder and beginning to rock into your swollen cunt again.

“There’s a few hours before nightfall,” he talks over your garbled string of noises, overstimulated and exhausted from the hours of running and the brutal way he had fucked into you. “You can take me again before then, can’t you, Sweet Thing? Before we head back to the ship?”

Your body resigns to his question, already far too wearied and submissive to argue what feels more like an order than a question— besides, bliss is already pooling in between your thighs when he pinches your clit with the pads of his forefinger and thumb.

“Good Girl.”

END

Join the Tag List Misc Character Taglist: @glassbxttless, @peachyproserpina, @pansa-1-san @htccu7gho9

Gif belongs to @zachsnydered

#commander mills #commander mills x you #commander mills x reader #commander mills x female reader #commander mills x f!reader #commander mills fanfic #65 #65 movie #adam driver #adam driver x reader #adam driver x you #adam driver x y/n #adcu #adcu fanfiction #adcu smut #adam driver smut #adam driver fanfic #adam driver fic #mills x reader #mills x you #mills x y/n #deaddovedonoteat #dddne

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

Blessed Heir of the Abyss (Abyssal Prince Childe x Reader) Part 5

Synopsis: After centuries of conflict, Teyvat and the Abyss are attempting to make peace with one another. To solidify new alliances and let go of past grudges, the Abyssal Prince Tartaglia will choose a spouse from the people above to rule over the Abyss with him.

That spouse happens to be you, an ordinary, Visionless citizen of Liyue.

Chapter Four: Of Stone and Scales

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Warnings: Descriptions of illness and pain, allusions to crying and fevers, coughing, SLOW BURN

~ * ~ “What a conundrum this is…” Through the haze and smoke of your fever comes a gentle press against your forehead, the touch of soft and delicate hands ghosting over your skin like a butterfly’s wings. They’re cold- too cold, at first, and you flinch away- but the chill turns soothing against the heat of your sickness, and you let out an instinctive sigh of relief as the neverending pain recedes, even just slightly. The same careful touch holds the back of your head and lifts it upwards, prompting you to sip from a small ceramic bowl. You comply without a thought, barely tasting the sharp bitterness of the liquid as it slides down your throat, and those wonderfully gentle hands settle your head back down onto a plush pillow before pulling away. Your brow furrows as panic rises in your chest, wanting desperately to reach for and take hold of this singular moment of comfort, to bask in its sunshine forever. Please, stay. “Honestly, what were they thinking, bringing a mortal from Teyvat to the Abyss? The elemental whiplash…” A steady voice cuts through your distress like a knife, and the knot in your stomach unravels. Just barely you can place the sound of footsteps on wood, delicate clinks of glass and pottery, and dried leaves being crushed together. “…It’s enough to make an Adeptus seriously ill, much less a human.” In the sludge of your consciousness you open your mouth to speak, only to fail and let out a few awful, wracking coughs. Fail… yes. That’s all you seem to do now. The murmurings pause, soft taps of shoes growing a bit louder, and a cool hand rests on your arm, now speaking directly to you, “Rest, my friend… you’ll need your strength.” They squeeze your arm; once, twice, and what little vision you have fades as you drift down into a murky ocean of silence. A child laughs, her swing creaking, and a tiny green flower blooms from your fingertips. Everything blurs together as you return to nothingness. It’s the light that you sense first, shining through your closed eyes and filling the void with colors. You groan, shifting and pulling the covers over your ears in an earnest attempt to snatch a few more minutes of sleep, the bed cushioning your sore, aching joints. But the light merely shines brighter, birds twittering and giggling at your plight, and with a hiss of annoyance you relent to their joyous whims. Your eyes crack open and stare into the morning Harbor sun. With a gasp you fling yourself into a sitting position, only to double over as you cough and hack, tears springing to your eyes from the force, breath coming out as sharp wheezes. “Ah, you’re awake- Oh dear.” Someone hurries into the room to sit beside you, pressing a hand to your back and rubbing it up and down. “Let it out, my friend, you’ll feel much better afterwards.”

You take the advice in stride, coughing and coughing until your head spins and your shoulders shake and you’re absolutely sure that you’re going to faint- but you don’t, and slowly the coughs fade away until you can breathe, gratefully inhaling a lungful of air. “There… how do you feel?” You turn and blink in surprise for what seems like the hundredth time this week, gaze landing on a familiar, green-haired figure. “D… Dr. Baizhu?” His snakeish eyes shine with delight, golden and amber and fire-colored, “Ah, you remember me! Good, that means your mental faculties are intact, at the very least.” “How couldn’t I?” You let out a laugh, hoarse but happy. “You’re the best pharmacist in Liyue! Zhongli talks about you all the time- he always recommends your herbal remedies if I have a sore throat.” Baizhu chuckles quietly, “He does, does he? Well, I certainly won’t disagree with him on that.” The jewels hanging from his glasses glimmer, and you have to stifle the urge to reach out and bat at them like a cat. There’s a squeaky yawn from a table across the room, and Baizhu glances towards the sound with a smile, “Ah, Changsheng.” He walks to the table, picking up a scaly white bundle in his arms. “I don’t think you two have met. This is Changsheng, my treasured companion- Changsheng, say hello to our guest.” The sleepy little snake raises her head, and you give her a small, hesitant wave. “Ah,” You jump slightly at her voice, her tongue flicking towards your hand. “This one is sick, aren’t they?” Baizhu nods, eyes darkening, “Yes, they are.” He sits beside you again, Changsheng slithering up to his shoulders and peering at you curiously. “Your mind seems to be undamaged, but…” he sighs. “…I am uncertain about the rest of you.” You stiffen, fingers weakly curling into your blanket, “Dr. Baizhu… What exactly happened to me? Why am I in Liyue? And why-” You’re abruptly cut off by a cough, and Baizhu hurriedly pats your back. 

“The short story is that the energy and atmosphere of the Abyss caused you to fall ill,” he explains carefully. “Mortals of Teyvat and the Abyss do not mix- it’s an entirely foreign land to us, and the sudden change between above and below was too much for your body.” Baizhu’s expression turns grim, “The stress of your particular situation also did nothing to help.” “Oh,” You swallow thickly, your throat like sandpaper, then straighten your back with some effort. “What’s the cure, doctor?” “Rest, mostly. Preferably somewhere familiar and nonthreatening.” Baizhu smiles, a small pair of fangs peeking over his lips. “And please, call me Baizhu.” He sighs, quietly, “You’re quite lucky that you were only down there for a few days, my dear. Give it a week, and I likely wouldn’t have been able to save you.” You glance up curiously, “That reminds me, er- how did I get back to Liyue, exactly? Did someone have to drag my unconscious body up here?” “Ah, well-” “Your Highness!” The door bursts open, and Enjou ducks his head to float into the room. “Are you alright?! I apologize for not coming to your aid sooner, I fell asleep.” “Enjou?!” Your mouth hangs open in shock, then you burst into laughter that quickly devolves into coughing. “You- ahem- you brought me here?” “That he did.” Baizhu nods, holding you as you hack out a lung. “I’ll admit, I wasn’t expecting to see an Abyss Lector at my door, especially not at 1 AM.” “I am sorry about that.” Enjou bows his head. “It was an urgent matter, doctor.” “My dear sir, there’s no need to apologize! I’m very glad you got here when you did.” Enjou nods, hovering beside Baizhu, a bit awkward and out of place. He’s still wearing his glasses, you notice, and take a few quick glances between the Lector and the pharmacist. They almost mirror each other, in a way, with their glasses and elegance and worry for you.

“So, when do you think I can take them back to the Abyss?” Enjou breaks the silence after a few moments, and Changsheng lets out a low hiss. Baizhu clicks his tongue and shakes his head, gently stroking Changsheng’s scales, “Not for a while, I’m afraid. This whole situation is, frankly, a mess.” He gives Enjou a stern look over the top of his glasses. “They will need at least a couple of weeks to recuperate, and no less.” The Lector nods silently, his warm glow filling the room, “I will… see what I can do. The others of the Court are not going to like this.” “Enjou,” your voice is soft and scratchy. “I don’t want to die.” His tear-shaped eyes gleam kindly, and he delicately pats your shoulder with his claws, “You won’t, I’ll make sure of it. I’ll talk to the other members of the Court- they might be old fools, but they’re not entirely unreasonable.” You scoff, rolling your eyes, “I’ll agree with the old fool part.” Suddenly there’s a few quick knocks on the pharmacy door, and Baizhu tilts his head over his shoulder, “Ah, I might know who that is…” His quiet footsteps trail away, leaving you and Enjou in the bright, sunlit room, and you stare at the beams of light filtering through the windows. You’ve forgotten how beautiful it is, to see the dust float in the sun, casting patterns onto the floor, the comfort of being home warming your aching bones. The room smells of sweet flowers and bitter herbs and mint, and your eyes slide shut as you inhale, just barely able to catch the scent of rain and lilies from outside, splashes of bright colors dancing and swirling about. Familiarity washes over you, and you smile. “I should apologize for earlier,” Enjou’s voice pulls you out of your daydream, and you look up at him curiously. “I called you “Your Highness” in my panic over your state. I am sorry.” The Lector bows to you deeply as he speaks, somehow making himself seem smaller despite being twice your height. “Oh, it’s okay! To be honest, I was too busy choking to notice.” You smile tiredly. “Thank you… thank you for remembering, though. And for bringing me here. And for being nice to me.” Your thoughts spill from your mouth, one by one, a swift current rushing down a river.

“But of course! It is my honor to assist you, truly.” Enjou’s aura flares a bit brighter at your words. “And if it is of any help, I also apologize for my colleagues’ behavior so far. Including the Prince’s.” His voice lowers to a hiss. “He despises this as much as you do, but that is no excuse to treat you so poorly.” You feel your cheeks grow warm- warmer than they already are- and quickly cast your gaze to the blanket, thoughts tangled and muddled together, “Thanks, Enjou.” is all you can mumble, the thought of Tartaglia sending a fresh stab of fear and anger into your heart, your fists tightening around the fabric of your covers. “My dear,” Baizhu calls from the hallway, poking his head in with a satisfied smile, and the harsh fire in your chest dies down to an ember. “You have visitors.” As soon as he speaks a brown and crimson blur rushes towards you, dashing past Enjou and leaping onto your bed, “YOU NINCOMPOOP!!!” Hu Tao throws her familiar arms around you, already bawling her eyes out. “The first time I let you go somewhere without me and you almost end up dead! I may be a funeral parlor director, but your funeral isn't one I want to plan anytime soon!” Her grip tightens as she sobs into your shoulder, signature hat tumbling to the ground. “I didn’t exactly plan it!” You gasp through her stifling squeezes. “It just sort of… happened.” Your own hug feels weak and frail in comparison to hers, even more so than usual, and Hu Tao slaps her hands onto your shoulders, shaking you back and forth. “That is no excuse! Swear to me that you won’t die! Promise! Pinkie promise!” “Okay, okay! I promise!” Your head spins as she abruptly stops shaking you to look you right in the eyes, her fiery pupils filled with flowers and tears. “Good! And you better keep that promise, or else I won’t have anyone to sample my cooking or watch me destroy Xingqiu in poetry!” Hu Tao grins at you, but her eyes are dead serious, and you gulp nervously and nod. “And YOU!” Her head snaps towards Enjou. “You’re one of those creeps that took my best friend away! Why, I ought to lock you in a coffin and-” “Hu Tao!” You grab her arm, half coughing and half giggling. “He’s a friend, too, I swear!”

“Really?” She observes Enjou up and down, from the tips of his crown-like horns to his feet hovering off the ground. “Hmph, if you say so… but I’m keeping an eye on you!” Enjou raises his hands helplessly as she glares, glancing from you to Hu Tao and back again pleadingly, and you muffle a snicker. “She’s not the only one,” A deep, smooth voice emits from the doorway and you perk up, a wide smile spreading across your face as you meet Zhongli’s gaze, his presence casting a blanket of calm serenity over the room. “I will also be watching you closely, Lector.” Enjou straightens his back and bows, “Ah, hello Mor-” “Zhongli. Just Zhongli.” The man in question strides over, sitting in a chair by your bedside, long legs elegantly crossed. “I’m glad to see you are alright, little one,” Zhongli murmurs. “Well, mostly alright.” “It’s nice to see you too, Zhongli,” you whisper, and his gloved hands brush over yours to hold them firmly, heavy and comforting like the stones of Liyue Harbor. The corners of his lips are just barely turned up, but his draconic eyes glitter with warmth- for a moment, he almost appears tearful, but it quickly settles into pride and relief. “Gah, quit hogging, old man!” Hu Tao quickly latches onto your other arm, plopping her chin onto your shoulder with a pout. “You’ll have plenty of time to catch up with them while I’m busy helping our clients!” “He will?” You crane your head towards Hu Tao, blinking in confusion. “Of course, silly-billy! Baizhu says that you have to stay and recover for at least a few weeks- right, doc?” She glances up as the bespectacled pharmacist moves to stand beside Zhongli, and both he and Changsheng nod. “It’d be best for your health, my dear.” “Oh,” you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, feeling lighter than air. “That’s good, then.” Like the flick of a switch you fall back into a familiar routine, Hu Tao launching into a detailed play-by-play of what you missed while you were withering away in the Abyss, including her rap battle with Xingqiu and Captain Beidou taking everyone out for a joyride on the Alcor- not that it was very joyful without you, she insists. You bite your tongue to stifle a laugh when she goes off on a tangent about how Yanfei dropped her enormous law book on her foot when she received news of your departure- “Nothing broke, but it sure felt like something did!”- and Zhongli lets out a low chuckle at the funeral parlor director’s antics, a hand on your back in case you start coughing again. At some point Enjou tilts his head and excuses himself, bowing once to you and once more to the rest of the room before floating away like crackling fire.

Hu Tao sticks her tongue out as he leaves, and you flick her on the forehead, movements still clumsy from sickness. “Oh, and you have to come to Wuwang Hill with me and Chongyun! I’ve heard that there are some departed souls still hanging around, so I want to-” “Director,” Zhongli’s calming voice breaks through her chatter. “It may be best to wait until they’re feeling a little bit better.” You nod sheepishly, “Sorry, Hu Tao. I don’t think I could make it to the Harbor entrance right now, much less Wuwang Hill.” “Aww.” Hu Tao looks sulky, tugging at the ends of her long pigtails. “But the city’s sooo boring! I’m sure we can work something out-” “Excuse me.” Enjou hurries back into the room, and Hu Tao puffs out her cheeks, annoyed at being interrupted again. “I know this is most likely a bad time, but…” The Lector hesitates, and you frown in concern. “But what, Enjou?” He sighs and meets your gaze, reluctant and apologetic, “His Highness is here. He wishes to speak with his spouse.”

#genshin x reader #childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #childe #tartaglia #gi ajax #foul legacy #foul legacy childe #genshin tartagalia #genshin childe #genshin tartaglia #foul legacy x reader #sfw #genshin sfw #genshin slow burn #slow burn #tartagalia x reader #ajax #childe x you #genshin fanfic #childe fanfic #abyss prince childe #after long last the next chapter is here #how on earth did i write 2.6k words in less than two days #lots of dialogue but i like it #enjou is still a madlad #baizhu is there too which makes me so happy

[unhappy-last-resort]

A Beast Unshackled (Alpha X AFAB GN Reader)

Warnings: Non-con, threats of violence (not acted upon), possessive and controlling behavior, overstimulation, Alpha is dominant, no gendered pronouns for reader but fem anatomy is used, some implied lucia x reader ig? this is smut fyi

A/N: I started this during patch update and wanted to write something lesbian. Not proof read.

You couldn't stop the moans from endlessly falling from your lips. The night was cool and the ground you were splayed out upon was hard, but the pleasure was so immense that you felt like you were burning, gasping for breath as her tongue dipped in and out of your folds. You tried, you tried so damn hard to avoid this, but in the end, like prey caught in a hunters trap, you failed. You couldn't do anything to stop the fate she chose for you.

You gazed up at the night sky, staring at the moon and stars who cared little about your plight as you mewled, trembling as her tongue drew circles around your clit before synthetic lips wrapped around it, sucking it eagerly. Your hips rolling into it, tears stinging your eyes as you curse yourself when you feel the way she smirks against you and pulls you closer, holds you tighter, and makes you moan her name louder.

You feel two fingers push their way into your sensitive cunt and pump in and out of you, long fingers reaching all the right places as her tongue continued its assault on your clit with new fervor as you shake and tremble. Her name has become a prayer at this point, you call it over and over in-between babbled apologies as desperate plea for her mercy as that now all too familiar tightness in your stomach makes you writhe. She chuckles in hearing your repentance, the vibrations making your back arch as you scream, her name freefalling from you mortal lips as more tears blur your vision.

"I-I c-can't..." You can barely focus, a thick fog settles in your mind as exhaustion creeps through your body, muscles aching for a bed and rest.

"You can." Her voice sounds clearly, sternly. Like a crimson blade slicing through the fog, you can only focus on her. "You will. I'm not giving you a choice."

A hand entangles itself into your hair and forces you to look at her. She wipes away your tears and shushes you gently.

"Look at me. You belong to me now, your days frolicking around with that cheap copy are over." Her face is so close to yours now, her white hair cascading around your faces, creating a canopy, hiding you in her shadow from the world. Her gaze is so intense, burning through you and crushing you with its weight. "Say it."

You squirm slightly, even in your haze still trying to fight back, but she crushes your resistance easily. Her grip on your hips tightens painfully, deepening the bruises her fingers previously left behind from earlier.

"Who do you belong to? Answer me." She growls, her grip tightening with every second.

"I-I don't belong to-" You yelp, wincing from the pain as your bottom lips tremble, you're afraid she might fracture something with how tight her grip is. She leans in closer, giving you no room to look away from her.

"Say. It." She whispers angrily, her eyes like daggers boring into your skull. Her fingers dig into your flesh, making you whimper. "Don't think I won't pull you apart if I need to."

Your eyes go wide as fear courses through your veins. Her nails dig a little deeper, confirming the truth behind her words. You don't have a choice, you have to do as she tells you. "Y-you." Your voice cracks and your breathing heavy as you felt smaller and smaller beneath her intense gaze. "I belong to you."

Her nails don't dig any further and her scowl relaxes, you feel relief for a split second. "Again." She commands, excitement evident in the undertones of her voice.

"I...belong to you." You manage to say a little louder, her fingers rubbing circles into your hips as encouragement and she lightly kisses your forehead, her breathing more labored. She almost seems like she's trembling, as though she's holding herself back.

"Again. Louder." She commands, the greed and obsession in her eyes is so clear. Her back arching as she pulls her face away from yours, as if she was readying for a final strike.

Anxiety pops and sizzles underneath your skin. What's she going to do? What happens if you don't do what she says in this moment? Your fear tells you that you'd better do your best to not find out. Squeezing your eyes shut, you drag the words out from the depths of your throat as gentle red eyes in your minds eye slowly give way to heartbreak.

"I belong to you, █████!" You yell. The words echoing into the night as more tears threaten to fall. The words had barely left your lips before her mouth collided with yours, the figure with the gentle eyes shattering into pieces. Her tongue over powers yours and invades your mouth, staking claim to what belonged to her as her hands traveled up your stomach to knead your breasts. Her body pressing into yours fully, causing you to shudder as your heart pounds in your chest.

Her hands feel cold against your hot skin, making every touch more intense and impossible to ignore. You were her toy, her plaything, and her possession and everything she'd done to you was a reminder of that. From forcibly connecting to your beacon, to the moment she cornered you with an almost ecstatic expression on her face as she told you that you'd lost her game and she was here to collect her prize, to when she dragged you to this secluded spot in the woods and stripped you bare. She will take that which has been stolen from her, even if it wasn't truly hers to begin with.

The rim of her pants brush against your overstimulated clit, making you yelp and jerk away. She reacts quickly, lifting your legs enough to rest on hers as she pins your arms above your head, deepening the kiss as she grinds her hips against yours, the ridge of her shorts rubbing against your clit perfectly each time.

She finally pulls away to let you catch her breath, smirking in satisfaction as she listens to your cries from all the stimulation she's giving you.

"Please...it's too much!" You sob, your attempts to pull away being entirely useless against her strength and the position she's holding you in. She laughs in response and grinds against you harder, intent on pushing beyond your limits.

"You're strong, you can take it. I know you can." She talks over you as your cries turn into moans again as the pleasure overtakes your exhausted senses. Your words become senseless babbling as she sucks and bites your neck, decorating you with bruises as one of her hands travels down your arm to pinch at your nipples, making you see white as you chant her name once more for the nth time that night.

She holds your hips firmly against hers. "Tell me you love me. Tell me you won't leave me, that you'll always stay with me." She whispers into your ear, eagerly grinding her hips against yours, desperate for you to say what she wants to hear.

Your resolve, your loyalty to████ █████ and █████ being ebbed away with each movement of her hips, with each press of her breasts against your skin, with every kiss placed possessively upon your skin, and with every nibble of your ear. You can't stop yourself.

"█████." You'll regret saying this, you will, you know you will. A commandant being brought to their knees like this, you can't believe yourself. You can't, you can't, you can't, you can't you can-

"I love you." You shudder and she smiles, your back arches, your head falls back as stars blossom in your eyes. The knot in your stomach comes undone and nothing but you and her exist in your mind. You can feel something leaking out of you and being smeared over your swollen pussy.

She takes you through your high, contentedly peppering kisses over your neck and face as you catch your breath. Exhaustion and pain settling into your muscles as you teeter on the edge of unconsciousness.

"Say it again." She whispers gently into your ear, pressing gentle kisses against your neck, pinching your arm to wake you up again. In spite of your tiredness, you won't say what she wants. Your mind having finally reached clarity you haven't been granted for several blurry hours, shame and embarrassment now eat at your insides, you look away. Opting instead to stare at her bike idly waiting nearby.

Her kisses stop and an arid sigh disappears into a passing breeze. A moment of silence stretches between the two of you, tension slowly building in the air as you wonder if you've possibly made a terrible mistake.

"No matter." She mutters, her usual confidence fully returned. "This was only your sixth orgasm and there's more than enough time to train you properly."

Your throat feels dry as you slowly turn to look at her again, dread creeping into your stomach as she grins down at you before reaching off to the side and pulling a water bottle and some biscuits out of her bag.

"Eat. You have a long night of 'training' ahead of you."

#unhappy writings #yandere alpha #yandere pgr #yandere lucia #yandere alpha pgr #yandere lucia pgr #yandere wlw #yandere alpha x commandant #cw noncon #cw kidnapping #punishing: gray raven #punishing gray raven #yandere pgr x reader #pgr x reader #yandere android #yandere female #alpha pgr #punishing gray raven alpha #pgr commandant #yandere punishing gray raven

[heavenlyyshecomes]

The Arab people are frequently accused by their opponents and sometimes by their friends of being too emotional. I, as a Palestine Arab woman, have something to be legitimately emotional about: the loss of my home and community and the denial of my present and future. But I am not going to succumb to emotionalism and allow my feelings to blind my reason and undermine my confidence in the capacity of my people to liberate their land. In spite of the power of the enemy, I intend to rely on revolutionary ideology and strategy and mass mobilisation to achieve our objectives. In my work I have chosen to be the ally of reason, not passion, and my party, the Popular Front, also analyses and reasons before acting. We do not embark haphazardly on adventurous and romantic individualistic projects to fulfill "individual needs" or "act out of frustrations and hostilities" as Western "scientific" psychologists hypothesise. We act collectively in a planned manner either to neutralise a prospective friend of the enemy or to expose a vital nerve of the enemy and, above all, to dramatise our own plight and to express our resolute determination to alter "the new realities" that Mr. Moshe Dayan's armies have created. Generally, we act not with a view to crippling the enemy because we lack the power to do so-but with a view to disseminating revolutionary propaganda, sowing terror in the heart of the enemy, mobilising our masses, making our cause international, rallying the forces of progress on our side, and underscoring our grievances, before an unresponsive Zionist inspired and Zionistinformed Western public opinion. As a comrade has said: We act heroically in a cowardly world to prove that the enemy is not invincible. We act "violently" in order to blow the wax out of the ears of the deaf Western liberals and to remove the straws that block their vision. We act as revolutionaries to inspire the masses and to trigger off the revolutionary upheaval in an era of counter-revolution. Dr. Habash, the Secretary General of the PFLP, has stated our human dilemma and our ethical view thus: After 22 years of injustice and inhuman living in camps with nobody caring for us, we feel that we have the very full right to protect our revolution, we have all the right to protect our revolution. Our Code of Morals is Our Revolution. What serves our revolution, what helps our revolution, what protects our revolution is right, is very right and honourable and very noble and very beautiful, because our revolution means justice, means having our homes back, having back our country, which is a very just and noble aim.

—Leila Khaled, My People Shall Live: The Autobiography of a Revolutionary ed. George Hajjar

#leila khaled #my people shall live #my people shall live: the autobiography of a revolutionary #george hajjar #palestine #words #mine #2024 reads

[horeformilfs]

Pray

Mother Miranda x Fem! Reader

TW: Abuse, Crisis of Faith

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

The moon hung low in the night sky as Y/N, fueled by desperation and the echoes of pain, ran through the dense forest, leaving the chilling whispers of her abusive past behind. Tears blurred her vision as she stumbled upon the old church, its dilapidated walls standing as a witness to the secrets it held.

Breathing heavily, Y/N fell to her knees, the cold ground beneath her offering a stark contrast to the warmth she sought. In the hallowed silence, she poured her heart out in fervent prayers, hoping for salvation from the torment that had defined her existence. As the final words left her trembling lips, she wished for a savior, an angel to lift her from the abyss.

Unbeknownst to Y/N, her prayers reached the ears of a being far beyond the comprehension of mortals. Mother Miranda, the enigmatic figure who held sway over the village, heard the desperate plea that echoed through the night. Moved by an inexplicable force, she materialized before Y/N, her presence shrouded in an otherworldly grace.

"I heard your prayers, child," Miranda spoke, her voice a soothing cadence that seemed to dance with the whispers of the night. Her hand reached out, an offer of comfort, but Y/N flinched instinctively, hands defensively shielding her bruised face.

Miranda's gaze, sharp and perceptive, fell upon the visible wounds that marred Y/N's fragile form. Concern etched her features as she gently inquired, "Who did this to you?" Y/N, eyes cast down, remained silent, the weight of unspoken pain bearing down on her shoulders.

A soft touch, almost maternal, rested on Y/N's shoulder as Miranda spoke again, "Was it your parents?" Y/N's eyes welled with tears, a silent admission that spoke volumes. Miranda, understanding the depth of the suffering before her, wrapped Y/N in a comforting embrace.

"Child, you are not alone," Miranda reassured, her words a balm to the wounds that scarred more than just Y/N's flesh. "You've found your way here for a reason, and I will help you find the strength to face the darkness that has plagued your past."

In the ancient church, bathed in the eerie glow of moonlight, Mother Miranda became an unexpected beacon of solace for Y/N, offering sanctuary in the midst of the forsaken.

The embrace from Mother Miranda was an unexpected warmth in the cold chapel, a glimmer of solace for Y/N's battered soul. As Y/N's tears continued to fall, Miranda gently withdrew, maintaining a respectful distance. Her gaze, filled with a depth of understanding, lingered on Y/N's bruised and broken form.

"Come," Miranda encouraged, her voice a gentle melody. "Let me tend to your wounds."

They moved to a weathered pew, where Miranda produced a small vial from the folds of her robes. The liquid within emitted a soft, soothing glow as she carefully applied it to Y/N's injuries. The pain began to subside, replaced by a healing warmth that seemed to radiate from Miranda's touch.

"Thank you," Y/N whispered, her voice a fragile echo in the sacred space.

Miranda nodded, her eyes reflecting a compassion that transcended the boundaries of mere sympathy. "You have endured much, child. But know that you are safe here."

As the physical wounds began to mend, Miranda turned her attention to the emotional scars that ran deep within Y/N's heart. "Tell me your story, if you feel ready," she encouraged, her presence a comforting anchor in the storm of Y/N's past.

Y/N hesitated, her gaze fixed on the floor, memories of pain and fear threatening to resurface. But the trust Miranda exuded, the sense of understanding, urged Y/N to share the burden she had carried alone for so long.

"It was my parents," Y/N finally admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "They were... they were supposed to protect me, but instead, they became the source of my torment."

Miranda's expression darkened with a stern resolve, her features hardening against the injustice of Y/N's plight. Yet, her touch remained gentle as she offered words of reassurance. "You are not defined by the cruelty of others. You have found your way here, and I will guide you toward a path of healing and strength."

The chapel, once silent witness to the agony within Y/N's heart, now held the promise of a sanctuary where a wounded soul might find refuge. In the presence of Mother Miranda, Y/N began to glimpse the possibility of a future unburdened by the shadows of the past.

In the quiet chapel, the weight of Y/N's confessions lingered, and Mother Miranda's unwavering support became a beacon of hope. As the healing glow of Miranda's touch continued to work its magic, she spoke with a tone both comforting and firm.

"Y/N, the path to healing is not easy, but you don't have to walk it alone. The village may be steeped in darkness, but within you resides the strength to overcome it."

Miranda's words, like a gentle breeze, stirred a newfound courage within Y/N. The walls of the chapel seemed to fade away, leaving them in a sacred cocoon of shared vulnerability and understanding.

"Take my hand, child," Miranda offered, her hand extended toward Y/N. "Let us face the dawn of a new day together."

Y/N, her heart stirred by a mixture of trepidation and hope, accepted Miranda's outstretched hand. It was a symbolic gesture, a silent pact forged in the quiet chapel between a lost soul and the enigmatic figure who had appeared in response to desperate prayers.

Guided by Miranda's steady presence, Y/N felt a glimmer of strength, a flicker of resilience rekindled within. As they left the old church, the moon casting its ethereal glow on the path ahead, Y/N dared to believe that the darkest night might give way to a dawn of redemption.

In the enigmatic embrace of Mother Miranda, Y/N found not only solace but the promise of a journey towards healing—a journey that, despite the scars of the past, held the potential for a brighter, more hopeful future.

#mother miranda #mother miranda x reader #mother miranda x y/n #resident evil village #resident evil mother miranda

[bellysoupset]

can we get a part two perhaps?😳😳👉👈🍄

Part two of Vince having the flu!!

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

Vince let out a choked up sob and struggled to roll on his side, only to feel a hand grab his bicep and forcefully pull on him, helping him hang over the edge of the bed to cough up yet another stream of bile and frothy water. 

He coughed, feeling the acid sting his nose, then fell on his back, panting breathless. Bella and Luke’s bedroom ceiling had glow-in-the dark stars. They were twirling. 

“I think we should go to a hospital,” Luke’s voice filtered through, sounding distant, and then something cold was pressed to his forehead and Vince let out a humm at the sensation of having his mouth wiped clean. 

“No’spital,” he mumbled, blinking heavily, “why the stars…?” 

“Uh?” Luke appeared in front of his sight and Vince squinted, feeling slightly overwhelmed. Unlike the simple stars, Lucas’ face was covered in worried lines, “what did you say?” 

“Sup with the stars?” Vince forced a deep breath, resting a hand on his unsettled stomach and Luke glanced up, as if only then realizing his ceiling had stickers on it. 

“Oh, Bell put them there to help with my insomnia,” he explained and Vince raised his eyebrows. 

“Did it?”

“Yeah, I count them in order to get sleepy,” Luke shrugged, settling back down, “let’s try the water again.”

“Please,” Vince rasped, curling up, “no. I can’t take more…”

“You haven’t kept any liquid down in six hours,” Luke glared at him, “I really think you need a doctor, Vin.” 

“Itsssjust the flu,” Vince sighed, rolling on his side and wrapping an arm around his stomach. Despite the fact it was painfully empty, it was still rolling and distended with a bloat. He closed his eyes, pressing his face to what he assumed was Luke’s pillow and trying to give in the dark spots that kept dancing in his vision. 

He wanted Wendy. 

Not that Luke wasn’t doing a great job of fussing over him, he really was, but Wendy was just different. Her touch was different and she felt more certain in her actions. All the worry Luke had, Wendy had in confidence and it put him at ease. 

But she had already taken care of him five weeks before, with a stomach flu no less. He wasn’t going to put her through that ordeal again, on her birthday night. And Luke was fine, Luke was great. 

“I know I’m great,” Lucas huffed, pressing the cold washcloth to his forehead again and Vin let out a groan, pressing his lips closed. 

“What did you say to her…?” Vince asked, not for the first time that night. He had asked this at least twice already, but had been too busy in throes of nausea to pay attention then. 

Luke let out an unhappy noise, “that you weren’t feeling too hot, but I was gonna look out for you,” he said in a nonchalant tone, “that you said she should stay and enjoy her party.”

“Uhmmm… Good,” Vince sighed. It was good, he didn’t want Wendy to spend her birthday watching him flip flop between puking his guts and crying on the toilet as his bowels revolted against him… But that didn’t mean he didn’t want her there. 

His stomach squeezed again and Vince groaned, biting down a gag as he felt acid creep up his throat. He didn’t want to puke anymore, not only was he sore and exhausted, but keenly aware that every noise he made pushed Luke further into the notion of just calling an ambulance. 

Luke scratched his back, oblivious to his plight, “you said you caught this from another teacher? Where the hell had this teacher been to?” Luke mumbled darkly, “purgatory? Dante’s 9th circle-”

Vince scrambled to sit up as his belly contracted involuntary, but this time his stomach was faster than he could be and hot, watery puke shot out his mouth, covering the front of the oversized gym shirt he was wearing, borrowed from Luke. 

This was the second shirt he ruined tonight, the first one being Luke’s party button up, during the elevator ride out of the rooftop. 

Vince let out a disgusted sob, tears stinging his eyes and heard as Luke shushed him like a toddler, combing his fingers through his sweaty hair, “Vin, Vin, it’s fine. It’s alright, I can wipe this clean, don’t worry-”

“I’m sorry- I’m so tired… I’m sorry,” Vince groaned, his words slurring together and Luke scoffed, wiping the vomit from his chin and neck. 

“Dude, it’s basically just water,” he shrugged, “you’re fine. I promise, it’s no big deal.” 

Vince sniffled at that, allowing Luke to push his arms up and prop him against the headboard, stripping his shirt. His mind drifted, the stars in the ceiling twirling in a nauseating vortex and he closed his eyes to avoid them, thinking of Luke at the age of seventeen, repeating these same words to his dying mom, probably as she got sick, weak as a kitten. 

He hated himself for putting his friend in the same position. 

“I should- I shouldn’t be here,” Vince groaned, hiccuping as his next sob got stuck in his chest, “I shouldn’t have come-”

“Oh shut up,” Luke scoffed, “I don’t wanna hear it, shut up forever.”

“Ruined your night, Wen’s night-” Vince mumbled feverishly and then winced when he felt Luke flick at his ear, he opened his eyes in pain, “Ow?!”

“I said shut up forever,” Lucas glared at him, his light green eyes were droopy, exhausted, but still very awake, “I want you here. And you made Wendy’s night, she’s been so down this whole week, Vin… And then you get here and she lights up like a freaking Christmas tree.”

That was really not as reassuring as Luke thought it was, Vince thought, pressing his overheated head back against the headboard and groaning. 

“I’m fucking it all up, right?” he mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper, practically gone from all the heaving, “with her.”

Luke didn’t answer and Vince forced his eyes open, feeling a new wave of nausea at his best friend’s conflicted face. As if Luke was fighting himself not to agree. 

“Shit,” Vince groaned, rubbing at his face, shivering violently, “shit.”

“Hey, no,” his best friend snapped into action as he heard the choked up, squeezy tone of Vince’s voice, “you’re not fucking it up,” he said and Vince let out a snort, tearing up and shaking his head. 

“I am, I know I am- I’m gonna lose her and I don’t know- I don’t know what to do,” his chest squeezed and he sucked in a breath, trying to fight the panic clawing inside of him, “i love her and I- I-”

“Vin,” Lucas grabbed his face, squishing his cheeks, forcing their eyes to meet, “you’re not ruining it just because you have different goals.” 

Vince let out a shuddery breath, closing his eyes and feeling a tear slide down the slope of his nose, “you wouldn’t. If it was Bell, you wouldn’t-”

“I wouldn’t,” Luke nodded, agreeing, all open, “but we’re Luke and Bell, not Vince and Wendy. You’re my best friend, you’re my brother, but you’re not me… And if you’re happy in Doveport, then you and Wen can work through this, right?” 

Vince shook his head, all but sobbing, his feverish thoughts going in circles, “what if we can’t? What if-”

“What if you can?” Luke glared at him, patting his cheek in a way that made Vince think of their football days, staring at his captain on the field, “what if you come here and you resent her? What if she moves there and she resents you? I know- I know I want you here, Vince, but not if you’re unhappy… And I don’t think Wendy wants you here like that either.”

“You don’t- You don’t think I’m childish?” Vince curled up, turning his face away from his best friend’s grip and glaring at the side table, trying to collect himself, “moving home?”

“No,” Lucas squeezed his arm, “I think… I think you’re incredibly blessed to have people who love you so much, in so many different places. And I think you have to pick what feels right and we’re not gonna love you any less. I won’t and dude… She fucking loves you. She’s not gonna stop either.”

Vince nodded, sliding down and turning on his side, sniffling, “do you think- Do you think coming today was stupid?” he asked quietly, “probably gave her the flu, on her birthday.”

“Gave her the flu?” Luke teased him, “Vince, you might as well have kissed me with tongue by now, you fucking biological weapon,” he moved on the bed, crawling on it and wrapping himself like an octopus around Vince, “I’m glad you came. And I think Wendy would rather have you here for an hour than not at all.” 

“Even if I gave her the plague.”

“Even if you gave her the plague,” Luke mumbled, sounding tired, “if Bella catches me cuddling you shirtless you’re a dead man, by the way.” 

“I’ll welcome the sweet relief of death,” Vince scoffed, closing his eyes as his head continued to throb, the ceiling stars imprinted behind his lids.

#this one is much shorter #just some nice brotp and angsty #mywriting #sickfic #emetophilia #emeto #stomach flu #vince monacelli #angst

[daebreaker1]

The Queen, The Hunter, and Their Prey

Pairing: Vil x Pomfiore GN!Reader x Rook (Poly)

Reader Pronouns Used: They/Them

Age Rating: 16+

Content Warnings: Teasing, some dirty jokes, I don’t know exactly what to call it but you’re stuck to a tree and basically immobile.

Word Count: 796

Note: This is my first time trying to write x reader so like... be gentle lol. And no proofreading.

You had always enjoyed walking around the forests surrounding your dorm. Though the dorm building itself was lovely, there was something so calming about the silence of the forest. Smiling and continuing to wander, slightly mindlessly you suddenly felt eyes on you. Shuddering slightly and looking up to the trees, you decided to hurry back to the dorm building. However as you turned, you felt one of your long sleeves be yanked back, effectively pining you to the huge tree behind you. Before you could even try to pull it out another arrow came wheezing through the tree line, pinning your other arm to the tree. As you looked up to the tree line, and focused a bit more, you could vaguely see a purple clad figure drawing back another arrow, which embedded itself along the collar of your shirt, mer inches from your throat. “R-Rook?!” You squeaked, still looking up at the figure, which was drawing back another arrow. Moments later the fourth arrow buried itself parallel to the third. As you watched the figure jumped deftly down and disappeared into the woods. You pulled your hands lightly against the arrows but you were stuck tightly to the tree. Sighing you leaned your head against the tree and waited. “Rook?” You attempted to shout and coo at the same time, hoping to lure him back to you.After waiting for a few minutes, you heard footsteps meandering towards you, a sure sign it wasn’t Rook.

“Oh my,” Vil’s voice cooed, just outside of your range of vision. “You seem to have gotten yourself into quite the situation, my crowned jewel.” He stepped in front of you and traced a hand along your jaw, tilting your head upwards to force you to stare into his eyes. He had clearly been interrupted as he was getting ready, as he was still wearing his dark blue and purple dead husband robe. “Haven’t I warned you against letting your guard down in these woods?” He said, shaking his head sadly. At the same time, you felt a much more calloused hand gently touch your exposed neck, causing a shiver to run down your spine.

Rook laughed from beside you, still keeping out of your line of vision. “Ah yes, my prey. These woods are so dangerous, who knows what you could meet in these woods.” Ripping the arrow closest to him out of the tree with one fell swoop he planted a gentle kiss on your jawbone. “If your darling hunter hadn’t happened across you, what would have happened to you?” He pulled away, still taking care to keep out of your eye line. As you attempted to turn your head, Vil’s strong hand kept you staring directly into his eyes.

“Now now… Keep your eyes on me. Do not forget who came to rescue you from your plight.” He smiled slightly, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. Pulling away almost too quickly he sighed, looking to the side at where you assumed Rook was standing “Honestly, my hunter. What are we going to do with them? We can’t allow our precious to keep getting into trouble like this.” He sighed and stroked your jawbone with one of his fingers. He hummed softly and turned your head so you were looking directly at Rook, smiling mere inches from your face purposely stunting his breath. As he exhaled he captured your lips into a deep kiss, quickly followed by several more peppering your lips with so many kisses that you felt your breath sticking in your throat. “Now, now Rook.” Vil’s voice cut through the fuzz that had begun to form in your brain, snapping you back to Rook’s lips slowly parting from yours. 

Before you could catch your breath however, your head was roughly turned and Vil’s softer lips pressed to yours. “Oh! Mon Poison!” Rook trilled, directly next to your ear. “Spoiling my fun is not very beautiful of you.” He sighed, and pressed gentle kisses to every inch of your face that he could reach. He moved suddenly and when Vil pulled away slightly he swooped in and pressed his own lips to yours again. He laughed and moved his head slightly, allowing Vil to press his lips to yours, at the same time that Vil did.

Laughing slightly at your flushed red face, Rook quickly pulled out both arrows keeping your arms in place as Vil pulled out the one from your collar. Smirking, as your legs gave out Rook caught you and lifted you gently into a bridal position, his arrows laying forgotten on the ground, Vil laughed and leaned down to be directly next to your ear “Now, my crown jewel. Have you learned your lesson, or do you need more in-depth education?”

#twisted wonderland #x reader #vil schoenheit #vil schoenheit x reader #rook hunt #rook hunt x reader #vil schoenheit x rook hunt x reader

[crescencestudio]

hi there! i'm so curious about this and unsure if you've answered (but really want to know), if van is placed in a situation similar to orpheus and eurydice, him in orpheus's place, would he look back or continue walking forward?

❝ A love that transcends lifetimes... ❞

-------

“It’s a shame. His works were so good before they died.”

“I heard he went to hell and back for them. Like, literally Hell.”

“What? Don't tell me you believe that? Rumors nowadays… People just say whatever they want.”

-------

I poured over my new drawing. Black, charcoal etchings swept over the canvas, filling in the crevices left behind by my forceful strokes.

The pieces came faster now. Ironic, given my muse was...

Gone.

But this was the only way I could still feel their presence. The only way I could remember the warmth of their skin, or the safety in their caress.

If I wasn't creating art, the only thing I would feel was their absence.

"Your grief is unbearable."

Who--? The new voice tore me from my drawing, and before me stood a figure clothed in obsidian robes. The shadows lapping at their feet, the smell of ancient, untouched dust, the chill of the room. This was...

"Death."

"Hades, actually. Death is Thanatos."

They stepped forward, and with that simple movement, it was as if my bones turned to ice.

"You artists and your grief--your love that surpasses even death itself. Can't you give me a break? I'm just doing my job."

"Give you a break? What do you...?"

"I could feel your grief from the Underworld. Calling for me. Pulling at me. Nothing could be more aggravating."

"...Shall I make you an offer?"

Hades wanted to make me an offer?

"I'll let you into the Underworld, and you can retrieve your beloved. If both of you make it back to the land of the living, they can return with you. But keep in mind, you may only look forward, never back at them. Fail, and you can never be with them again, not even in Death."

"Fair warning: artists like you never succeed."

"I'll do it."

-------

"Remember. Only look towards the land of the living. Never back to the land of the dead."

"I remember."

Next to me, my love shifted in and out of vision--a mere shade of the person they once were. But it was them nonetheless, that I was sure of.

And we were going to make it out of here. That I was sure of.

When they were ready, I walked forward. I focused on nothing but the light of our realm to guide me.

The journey was longer this time, more strenuous. Was it because Hades wasn't here to guide us?

We passed Elysium and the River Lethe, crossed River Styx and the guardian Cerberus. The rocks around us were familiar now. No longer were they tainted with the shadows of Death. Now, there was light.

Behind me, my love's steps were heavier now. The shade of Death was dissipating, replaced with the weight of the living.

We were close.

Through the caverns we walked, until sunlight broke through the crevices. It took everything in me not to start running--I couldn't leave my love behind now of all times.

The air was warmer now! Just a couple more steps and--

I stumbled on the rocks beneath me and crashed harshly onto the ground. There were hands on me, helping me and lifting me up again. Their words were nothing more than a whisper on the wind, yet I could understand them clearly:

"Are you okay?"

"Yes, I'm..."

As I turned to reassure them, I realized my mistake too late.

The shadows of the Underworld rushed forward, grabbing hold of their silhouette and pulling. All semblance of life they had regained faded in an instant, and they were returned to the shade they once were. I called their name, reached out to take hold of their hand.

But it was futile.

Death took hold of them once more, and I was left alone. Again.

"Do not despair."

Something whispered to me. Voices upon voices layered upon each other, echoing off every corner of the cavern.

"Who...?"

"Your Fate does not end here."

"What are you talking about? Who are you?"

"We have watched your plight for generations upon generations. For as long as Time itself has existed. You and your Fated lover."

"Tell us. When you asked for the Fates' help all that time ago, did you foresee the pain it would bring? The destiny to relive this very moment over and over?"

"I don't understand."

"We suppose you would not. The River Lethe is known to have that effect on mortals."

"It is no matter. We look forward to seeing how the Strings of Fate determine your destiny in the next life."

"There's no point in seeing the next life if I can't be with my loved one."

"Do you say that because of Hades's offer? Do not worry, mortal."

"Even Death must abide by Fate."

-------

❝ ...but not one that transcends Death ❞

#asks #anon #thank u for the writing warm up anon #LMFAOISDJFOIAWJEF

[chickenparm]

Reformatting (Scaramouche/f!Reader) pt. 2

this was written for @onesaltygoddess. thanks for coming to me with this dope idea! :^) this fic is based off the recent fan animations that you can watch here and some cyberpunk 2077 mixed in to flesh it out.

---

AO3 Link Prev Part Next Part

Scaramouche/f!Reader - Cyberpunk AU 2,753 Words - SFW, future NSFW (Reader is a synthetic/android, NSFW tags will be on appropriate chapter)

---

Scaramouche inhales sharply, eyes opening as he instinctively flinches back. 

Sifting through your memories to put them back together meant the occasional leaking of your data into his own. There’s no risk of mixing or damage to either of you, but he finds himself coming to learn an uncomfortable amount of information about their newcomer. 

“E-10…” He murmurs, pointing his palm to your collarbone to light up the designation inked beneath your synthetic skin. Replaced and tossed aside, forced to look that replacement in the eye as you’re discarded. There’s little room for fondness in him, but he does feel some sort of sympathy for your plight. 

Or maybe there is some kind of mixing happening that he’s not aware of. 

With a sigh, he pulls his hand back and looks to the screens hanging from his hat. That was the end of all recoverable memories - and from his estimation, it was all the important ones, at least. What’s left is to unscramble your core operating system and rebuild your ICE. Maybe a little stronger on that last one, considering how E-models aren’t known for their ironclad security. 

After all, what nefarious purpose could an E-10 model be used for? Spying, he supposes, but you’d be able to tell someone is rifling through your system before the intruder was able to get anywhere close to their objective. Then, it would be a matter of shutting yourself down temporarily to avoid it. 

Ei wanted to be here when you woke up, but for now he can at least finish the repairs and leave you in a powered-down state. Behind your ear, he finds your slot - newly installed by Ei. The previous one had been jammed with the very chip that destroyed you in the first place, and removal caused irreparable damage to the port. 

On his wrist, a slot of his own opens to reveal a little wire, and it extends to plug into that port. It lights up to signify the transfer of data, and he closes his eyes to focus on moving and installing your new operating system and security. It should be compatible with your hardware, more or less. 

In theory. 

Compared to the expression from your memories, you look far more serene when completely idle rather than the forced mask of contentment you’d been made to wear. Quietly, only to himself, he remarks that you look better this way. Unburdened, at least for a moment. 

And when you do lose that expression, he’s not going to bother being around to see it. The notification pops up at the corner of his vision that all systems are functioning optimally, and with that in mind, he calls Ei to finish this off. Scaramouche disconnects from you completely, withdrawing himself from behind your security protocols, and doesn’t spare another thought. 

---

When you awaken, it’s not to the smell of rancid oil and burning plastic. There’s a faint tang of ozone in the air, and your nose scrunches for a moment as you take a moment to categorize the few things you can make sense of. 

The bed is soft, but not overly so. The sheets are the right amount of scratchy, well worn from countless cleanings and regular use. Your mind works quickly, piecing together that you’re uninjured, that you’re clothed once more, that something feels… different. You’re oddly warm. 

Cracking open your eyes, you look to a wooden ceiling, and that in itself gives you pause. Wood isn’t a common material anymore, requiring trips to the surface to obtain. And the window is open, allowing a breeze inside that doesn’t smell like dirt and mildew and must. It’s… floral, almost, and upon further inspection, the warmth in your body is coming from the light shining on you through the open curtains. 

The sun.

Something is wrong. Pushing up onto your knees, you crawl closer to the window that your bed is pushed beneath and push it open more, leaning your head outside. In your mind everything is spiraling; piecing the series of events together in a surprisingly quick and cohesive way. It’s presented to you oddly, and you stare unseeing at the glowing ball of light in the sky as you realize you’re not the same as you once were.

Your fingertips dig at the ports behind your ear, feeling for the broken eject button meant to keep your employer’s chip safely inserted. But the shape of everything is all wrong - you’re meant to have two ports, not three. These ports are vertical from your ear, not horizontal as they’re meant to be. They’re slim and sleek, not bulky and visible. 

“You have Scaramouche to thank for that. And many other things.” A voice calls from behind you, and you nearly hit your head on the window when trying to drag yourself back inside. The woman stands at the closed door, her back pressed to it and a disarming little smile on her face. You’ve seen that expression before, but it’s never seemed so comforting. 

The woman takes a step forward, but not before reaching behind herself to flip the lock on the door. No one is getting in, but the room’s occupants could get out. Your shoulders relax, just a little, and her smile remains, if not a little bit wider. “You’re safe here. Safe, and free. How much do you remember?”

Free; what an interesting word. One that you thought of so often that it almost didn’t make sense as a concept. Who is truly free? You were bound by your origins, the chip, your employer. Your employer was bound by greed, the city below was trapped by prejudice and racism. 

And yet, had any of them felt the sun before? It beats against your back through the window, and your eyes shut for a moment as you just… feel. The sun, the wind, the softness of the bed beneath your knees. The ports behind your ear that are blissfully empty. Your mind runs more quickly and cleanly than it ever has. 

You are still yourself, but somehow in the span of time since you’d been wiped, you’ve become more. And you think you like it. 

Ei is her name, and she listens patiently as you walk her through the last memories you have of E-11 and how she’d held you as your body convulsed in her arms before going dormant for what you’d thought was the last time. Occasionally she’ll needle for other things, and you think she might be testing your memory. 

Your designated model number E-10, or the tenth version of the Entertainment doll line. Your name, the only one you’d been given. E-10 was all you knew, all you had. If somehow you had been given a name by your prior employer, or whoever created you, it’s been lost among the corrupted bits of your memory that even now you can’t salvage. 

It’s common knowledge what E-10s are skilled in, but Ei asks you anyway, like she’s inquiring about another human’s talents. Something in your chest tightens, your cheeks burn and your eyes grow watery as you lay it out in a way that doesn’t seem as if it’s been read from an owner’s manual. 

A few names are thrown around. Raiden, the one who saved you and was created by Ei. Albedo, an L-13 model that is not under the control of the corporations and governing bodies. And Scaramouche, another of Ei’s creations and the one who pieced your mind back together after it had been crudely mishandled. 

Unlike the others, you don’t see hide nor hair of Scaramouche. 

At first, Ei’s only request is that you recover. That you come to terms with where you are and who you are, now that you’re not under the shadow of another. It’s difficult at first, and you find yourself struggling with agency and independence when there’s no longer someone to dictate everything about your life. 

But you acclimate. You learn. You’re given an electronic keyboard to play music if you’d like, but no one demands it of you. Somehow, you enjoy it more when it’s a secret little sound for yourself. Raiden visits and brings you little flash drives of reading resources and materials to create art if you so choose. 

And when all of that has become something less tainted with the memories of your life before, you finally have the time and mental capacity to be angry.

It’s a new emotion for you, one that you don’t know what to do with beyond pacing your room and tugging at the hem of your shirt until it begins to fray. Ei, ever practical, has a solution for this as well. One morning after a night of restlessness, Raiden takes you to what amounts to a training room, and she asks you to hit her. 

You do, and she lets you, and you end up hurting yourself far more than you hurt her. But she doesn’t laugh at you for it, nor does she belittle you, but instead she dedicates her spare time to teaching you to mold anger into something more useful. How to curl your fist and follow through on a punch, the best way to break from a chokehold. 

Eyes are on you, but you’re never quite sure from where. Sometimes it’s a distraction - times like now when you’re using one of Raiden’s spears to spar with her, dodging and dipping between her lightning-fast attacks, never quite trading blows. The spear acts as a base, one that you can plant firmly into the mat below and swing yourself around it for a quick kick that doesn’t connect. 

Landing leaves you vulnerable, and her palm pushes between your ribs with enough force to knock you to the floor below. The wind is taken from your lungs, just for a second, and you stare at the ceiling and try to catch your breath. 

“You’re getting better,” Raiden says, squatting next to you to lift your shirt and examine the mark that’s surely going to bruise, “we’ll keep at it. Don’t worry.”

It’s hard not to. And you tell her this, but she only gives a sympathetic smile in return and tells you that your ribs aren’t damaged at all. Training is done for the day, and despite her offer to help you up, you wave her away and decide that your place is right here for now. Flat on the training mat, looking up at the dusty wooden rafters and wondering what sort of tree that they were made of. 

There’s a tree outside the sliding doors to the courtyard. A big thing that looks like it’s ancient, with leaves on long hanging strings that nearly brush the ground. If you go inside, you think it would block out the rest of the world, and that sounds awfully nice sometimes. You’re getting better in more than just fighting, but sometimes it doesn’t quite feel that way. 

Somewhere above your head where you’re laying, the door to the room opens and the newcomer freezes. Then, in a voice you don’t quite recognize, “You’re still here.”

“Still here.” You confirm, craning your head back to look at them upside down. Immediately, you already know this must be Scaramouche. The similarities between himself, Ei, and Raiden are impossible to ignore. Maybe his hair is a little darker, and his eyes a different color, but the features are close enough that you’d be a fool to miss them. 

The door slides shut behind him, and with completely silent steps, he enters the room with you. Stopping near your head, he looks down his nose at you and finally says, “Raiden said you’re making progress. Doesn’t seem like it.”

“If you’re doing something right, then it doesn’t look like you’re doing anything at all.”

“Mhm,” He crosses his arms, expression carefully neutral but you’d be remiss to not catch the air of derision. Vaguely, you wonder what you’ve done to offend him so, but never voice it with how he continues, “What do you hope to accomplish? E-10s aren’t built for combat, not like an L-13. Raiden is sparring with you as if you are a child.”

“I’m just trying to be helpful-”

“Helpful. Right.” 

Lips turned in a scowl, you look up at him. And he looks down at you, and not for the first time, you’re unsure how to navigate this. So you do what you’ve been doing and just ask. “So what should I do, then? If I’m a fuck-up at fighting, then why don’t you teach me something valuable. Mr. Know-It-All.”

“And waste my time? Sure, because I have plenty of that to spare. Get real.”

God, he’s rude, but you push yourself to sit up, then up onto your knees as you level him with the same stare you’d given Raiden when asking to learn what she knows. “It’s not a waste. Try me. You’ll see. Unless you think you’re not good enough to be a teacher.”

Scaramouche’s eye twitches, his hands tighten against his arms in their crossed position, and you know you’ve won the first battle.

#mind the a/n for content tags #fic #fanfic #fanfiction #genshin #genshin impact #scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche/reader #cyberpunk au #reader insert #x reader #f!reader #afab reader

[bloobluebloo]

Can you rank the ganons in terms of intellect?

To be honest, I want to say that because most iterations of Ganon are the same Ganondorf from OoT that their intellect should be similar. I suppose what we can rank then is then how well he deployed his cunning in each game he found himself in. 1. ALttP: I think it was in this game that he deployed his most cunning strategy. He had understood that Hyrule had a penchant for putting heroes on a pedestal and used it to his advantage to get by the king's side, and then turn his knights and Hyrule against him. He turned his realm of imprisonment into a kingdom of his own where he could foster his armies. He was able to get his alter ego past the barrier keeping him trapped. 2. OoT: The fact that he went to each tribe seeking their stone, and then cursed them in such a way that they didn't even know he was responsible for their plight in a Hyrule that already had suspicions and racist attitudes is quite the feat. I feel like the only miscalculation he made here was making it obvious to the Deku Tree that he was responsible because he did not anticipate anyone leaving the forest to inform Hyrule at large, or that even if someone did manage to leave the forest they would not be convincing enough to implicate him. Unfortunately that person happened to be the hero fated to defeat him sooooo. In any case, he also correctly deduced that Link had the Ocarina he was chasing Zelda for and followed him so you know, man was working his sneaking skills hard to position himself in a fortunate position. 3. FSA: In a way, I feel like he stumbled into his power. The game keeps it vague, but the way I see it is that Ganondorf was probably aware that the Pyramid of Power housed a great power but had never pursued it seriously until the Gerudo put him up for execution. With no where to go he probably put all his bets there and it paid off for him. However, after that, he played it smart by using Shadow Link to lead Link to the Four Sword to release Vaati, and hiding behind Vaati since this Hyrule seems more invested in seeing Vaati as a threat. 4. TP: I have to say, he has a good grasp on emotional intelligence in the manipulative sense. He needed a body to host his power in to find his way to the light, so he knew he had to find someone who had just enough sway amongst the Twili, and just enough envy and jealousy in their heart to manipulate and he found him in Zant. From there he just had to sit back and watch Zant do the work for him. I guess his plan though did require a good measure of luck but eh, in every royal or powerful political structure you're bound to find someone bitter enough.

5. ALBW: I guess maybe most of the credit for this goes to Yuga, but basically gaining Hilda's trust and then playing along with her plan until he was in a position to take her piece is pretty cunning. I don't know if Yuga *always* held such visions or if merging with Ganon and taking the Triforce of Power caused him to develop such a vision, but in any case it must have taken a good measure of patience to wait long enough. 6. BotW: Everyone says he behaves like a force of nature but like, Calamity Ganon has intellect. He learns from his mistakes and comes back stronger each time. He hacked into the Divine Beasts and the Guardians. Calamity Ganon has the mind of an engineer go figure. 7. WW: I think his plan was kind of stupid. Really, every blond girl with pointy ears Ganondorf? Have you seen the red head and brunette Zeldas this could have gone sooooooo wrong for you my man you just got lucky. WW Ganondorf had a bit of an upper hand because his magic was strong and he had a grasp of how the gods worked so he could sort of get Link where he needed him to get the Triforce into his hands so I'll give him a bit of a pass here.

8. TotK: I don't think he's particularly stupid here, but I don't think anything he did was particularly intelligent or cunning either. I think he wanted to put on a show of force in a way to show Rauru that he was someone to not take lightly and that he would come out on top. Ganondorf was able to get the stone because of Rauru's hubris; they all knew he was bad news and let him run amuck. (Okay well he did reprogram the seized construct so I suppose this is where Calamity Ganon got his engineering brains from) 9. Zelda 1: The entire world was in chaos and Ganon found out that Hyrule had the Triforce so he took his armies to Hyrule and got the Triforce of Power. Strongman tactics that worked I guess. 10. OoS/OoA: He didn't even have a chance to think. He just woke up and found a kid with a sword attacking him so like what was he supposed to do? His brain was also so fractured he couldn't speak in full sentences. Poor guy. BONUS ROUND HW: I think he's actually pretty smart and he's self aware too. He is actually able to take good advice from his subordinates and can identify when he's letting his own ambitions take the best of him. He will pull out of a battle he's losing because there is no glory in defeat or death. I would say that I think he's a great strategist (and I mean in a Dynasty Warriors style game you have to be). And this doesn't even touch on the fact that he manipulated Cia's feelings and was able to gather the parts of his soul that were shattered and contained in different dimensions to reform his body. I mean, he's good, he is. Cadence of Hyrule: He boppin to the muuuuuuusic but I think he's average right. I found his strained relationship with Barriara as a child to be funny. Like Octavo was the main antagonist really and then he just said oh it's because Ganon is going to be the bad guy in the future so you just get a free pass to the future to beat up Ganon. Poor guy. CD-I Ganon: THROW THE BOOK AT HIM look the smartest thing he did was leave Hyrule but then they found him and beat him even faster anyways. Animal Crossing Ganon: Arguably the smartest Ganon because he said "you know what, fuck this I'm gonna go live a quiet life in a village full of cute unhinged animals" and chilled out. Intelligent guy, not throwing his life away for gods that hate him (or love him? I dunno is this what divine love looks like?) while enjoying his tooth achingly sweet coffee. SSB Ganondorf: He has all that power and is bottom tier, like dead last. Is this because he has a lack of intellect? Or maybe he just doesn't take it seriously? He also got backstabbed by Tabuu which like damn dude that's a first for you so, yeah maybe because when he stepped into ssb part of his brain went with it.

#ganonthots #bloothots #long post

[the-tragic-heroine]

死鬼祭 | Shiki Matsuri

fandom: tokyo revengers

characters: kurokawa izana, kakucho, haitani ran, haitani rindou, madarame shion

pairings: tenjiku x female reader

cw: blood, violence, minor character death, supernatural elements, she/her pronouns used for reader

—✧ SUMMARY ✧—

The villagers say that you cursed them all. You believe that they were the ones who cursed you. (Or, in which the circumstances of your unfortunate birth woke a forgotten, slumbering god.)

Very vague depictions of the supernatural here, and a few cameos of specific yokai if you can spot them! Title is based off of a song by KODOKULOVE! More characters may be added as the story progresses.

Read on AO3 Read Chapter One | Read Chapter Two

CHAPTER 参 THREE

Though you did not know it, Izana and his followers had been watching over you ever since their awakening, cloaked in the veil that separated the world of the living and the spiritual. As you murmured daily prayers and polished floorboards until they sparkled under the sunbeams filtering through the trees, Izana revelled in the sensation of life flowing through his veins. Some days, he stood right by your side, eyes twinkling in amusement as you jumped and looked around, searching for a figure that was just out of your mortal vision.

“You’re not gonna show yourself?” Kakucho asked, eyes following Izana who in turn, followed you as he always did.

“Not yet,” the white-haired god said, smile never leaving his face.

Kakucho merely nodded, and vanished.

Unlike Kakucho, who frequently appeared to accompany his master, the rest of Izana’s followers were not so willing to linger. Now that they were finally awake, they were quick to tire of watching the little human’s mundane routine—which consisted of a pitifully boring cycle of eating, cleaning, and sleeping. Alone. So instead, Izana sent them to wrangle with the troublesome demons that managed to enroach onto the shrine’s holy ground.

“We could cleanse them all for good,” Rindou said one day, after having dispersed of yet another. “They’re just gonna keep repopulating themselves unless we purge the entire village.”

“Not yet,” Izana said again.

“I don’t know what you’re planning,” Ran sighed, twirling a braid around his finger, “but it better be good.”

When finally, in the dead of night, a commotion sounded right outside the building’s walls, Izana allowed his hand to part the veil. One-by-one, each of his fellow spirits followed in silent understanding. As expected, there was a horde of malevolent spirits trailing after the gaggle of teenagers—and more slithering close behind. None had noticed them yet, too eager to gorge on the turbulent energy surrounding the village kids—until Shion leapt forward, of course.

“Hey there, demons,” he barked, cracking his knuckles and throwing his arms wide open. “It’s me, y—“

He disappeared with a muffled yell under the ensuing swarm. Rindou rolled his eyes while Ran ignored his plight completely, calling out to Izana, “We’ll handle the perimeter.”

“I’ll leave it to you,” he replied, robes fluttering as he descended further into the shrine. When Kakucho moved to follow, Izana halted him with a raised hand.

“No,” he said. “Ensure nothing makes it inside. That’s all.”

—✧—

Perhaps Izana had underestimated himself, after all those years of lying dormant and powerless. Surely the others felt the same, although none would ever admit to it. Instead he allowed his growing irritation to carry him down the corridor—just in time to hear you scream. At that moment, he saw something. A tiny fragment of a long, long dream, etched with centuries of tears and stained with the blood of a mother who offered him his very last worshipper. Izana threw his head back and laughed, for he may be a god, but fate was surely a stronger force than he.

I know now, he thought, a grin splitting his beautiful face in two as he rushed forward. I know why this was meant to be.

The moment he reached you, the flame being pressed to your face went out. Your tormentors had not a second to react before Izana’s hand was gripping the face of the nearest person and slamming it right through the floorboards, raining splinters upon the horrified group. With his other arm he hoisted you against his torso, dropping the now unconscious body to hold you fully.

“Sleep,” he murmured, pressing two fingers to your forehead. Your sobbing dissolved into one huff of breath before you lost consciousness.

At the same time, Kakucho stepped inside, followed by Ran, Rindou, and finally, Shion—who looked particularly scuffed up and disgruntled. Izana did not need to ask them to know that they had cleared the shrine of demons. Now, their attention was turned to the ruckus caused by frantic shouting and scrambling limbs.

Like fleeing insects, Izana mused with a sick sort of glee, and spoke. “Don’t let them escape.”

—✧—

While Izana focused on healing every crevice of your smouldering face and bleeding head, he basked in the sound of cracking bone and pained shrieks, softly humming his own little tune as he worked. The task would likely take up all of his current energy, so as much as he would have liked to join the fray, he acquiesced to sit away from the violence and simply cradled you on his arms. Every time you stirred, he shushed you with a gentleness unbefitting a man who just minutes prior had nearly crushed a person’s skull.

“Don’t let them escape,” Izana had commanded earlier, “but don’t kill them. Ensure that they will live, then send them back home.”

He lifted his head to watch.

Ran was seated on the back of one boy, who lay flat on his stomach while blubbering incoherently, laughing as Rindou leisurely snapped every joint in his hand, finger by agonising finger. Shion was a simple creature, choosing to pummel their faces while guffawing at each consecutive spurt of blood. Kakucho, however, stood off to the side, brows furrowed and staring down at the kid he had just cleanly knocked out in one hit. The unconscious boy was the one who led the group, Izana realised—and white hot hatred, masked beneath his ever present smile, surged to the surface.

“Kakucho,” he said. The black-haired man froze, then slowly turned to look at Izana.

“I’m giving you a special task,” he said, all the while stroking the contours of your sleeping face. “Wake him up and make sure he stays awake until you have beaten him half-dead.”

Kakucho did not answer, but Izana was not worried. He watched, beaming, as his most loyal of followers placed a hand over the kid’s eyes. The moment they opened, Izana turned away and closed his own, continuing to hum; as expected, the rhythm of Kakucho’s pounding fists was the best for your very own special melody.

—✧—

Your knees buckled, body falling right against Ran whose arms happily encircled your much smaller frame to keep you steady. Shion grumbled something about the beanpole hogging her all to yourself but it all went in one ear and out the other. Between the lingering memory of searing pain to their nonchalant retelling of utter brutality, you did not know which was worse. It was then that you realised, with a mounting horror that sent bile rising up to the back of your throat, that perhaps even worse of all was the tiny voice at the back of your head whispering, Good. They deserved it.

“You realise now, right?” Ran cooed, as if having read your exact thoughts. “There’s no need to act like you’re above enjoying revenge. You might be a shrine maiden, but you’re human too. Aren’t you?”

“I…”

“Think of it as divine retribution, or some shit like that,” Rindou piped up. “Izana’s a god and we fucked ‘em up on his orders, right? They got what was comin’ to them.”

You couldn’t look at any of them.

“I don’t get it,” Shion groaned. “Didn’t they try to kill ya? Why’re ya feelin’ sorry for those bastards? We just gave it right back.”

They’re right. They’re right, and yet…

“What are you guys doing?”

Kakucho’s curt voice jolted you out of your thoughts. For a moment, you were relieved to see him return home—only for the thought of him coldly beating a human being into a coma to flash through your mind.

“Ran,” he continued, not noticing your growing discomfort. “Let her go.”

“Aww, you’re no fun. Just wanted to get to know our little princess a bit more.” Still, the taller man released you, and you hurriedly scrambled to find your footing before Kakucho would realise something was wrong. You grabbed the broom that had been discarded earlier.

“I have to sweep the other side of the building,” you announced, forcing your voice steady. “Bye.”

“[Name]—“

You pushed past Kakucho and rushed off.

When your footsteps receded, he turned his attention to the men now sitting innocently around him on the floor. “What the hell did you tell her?”

“Nothing that wasn’t true,” Ran drawled, lying down on the engawa with his arms behind his head. “I’m taking a nap.”

“No, you aren’t—“ But Ran was already snoring. “…Fine, do what you want. Just don’t blame me once Izana comes back and sees the chores unfinished.”

And with that, he whirled around and went after you.

—✧—

“[Name], open the door.”

No response.

“Please?” he tried again.

He heard you shift around inside of your room. Then, a soft but petulant, “No.”

“Why not?”

A pause, before you said, “If you really wanted to, you’d be able to come in, anyways. Doors can’t stop you.”

“Are you…” Kakucho swore quietly to himself, making a mental note to put the others through the wringer. He swallowed. “Are you afraid of me?”

Your ensuing silence answered his question.

“[Name],” he sighed, “I don’t know what they told you, but I would never hurt you. Ever.” He would sooner off himself if he dared lay a hand upon you—if Izana didn’t kill him first, that is.

More silence followed, broken only by the sound of a barely audible sniffle.

“Alright,” he said. “I’m coming in.”

You were sitting in a fetal position at the farthest corner of the room, back pressed up against the wall and face buried in your arms. Kakucho slipped in through the closed door and made his way carefully toward you. The sight of your shoulders shaking ever so slightly as he approached hurt more than any injury a demon could inflict. After a brief hesitation, he crouched down. To his surprise, you were the one who spoke first.

“All I wanted was to live,” you whispered. “I just wanted to live normally and not be a burden to anyone.”

Kakucho was already a man of few words—but this time, he truly did not know what to say.

“Why did it have to be me?” Your grip around your knees tightened. “Everyone hates me just for existing. Why did my mom have to die and leave me all alone here?”

“You’re not alone,” he interjected. “Not anymore.”

Slowly, like someone trying not to spook a cornered animal, he placed his hands on your arms, gently tugging them apart—and to his relief, you put up no resistance. Your shoulders slackened, though still trembling with muted sobs, and after setting your limp arms aside Kakucho reached forward. Calloused fingers stroked underneath your chin and tilted your head up to look at him. The sight of your utterly broken, tired expression sent a pang right through his chest.

“We’re just like you,” he said, cupping your face in his hands. “All we ever wanted was to live.”

You stared at him from behind wet lashes.

“The world is cruel,” he continued, brushing your cheeks free of tears with both thumbs. When more trickled from the corners of your puffy red eyes, he wiped them too. “You’ve experienced the worst of it. Let us protect you and our new lives—even if we must be equally cruel in return.”

He watched your gaze trace the scar that sliced down his forehead and over one misty white eye.

“Izana treasures family more than anything else,” he whispered. “So… don’t be afraid of us. Please.”

He waited with bated breath as you continued to stare at him. Then, so quietly he didn’t even notice, your arm shifted—and you placed one small hand over one of his. Underneath his palms, he felt the corners of your mouth lift.

“Okay.”

—✧—

When Kakucho slipped out of your room, he nearly walked right past the younger Haitani brother who was leaning against the wall with his arms folded, next to the door. He stopped, then turned to face him. “Were you eavesdropping?”

“Whatever you wanna call it.” Rindou pushed off the wall and strode toward the garden. Without even checking to see whether Kakucho was following him or not, he asked, “She alright?”

“Now you’re concerned?” Kakucho sped up to walk beside him.

“I wouldn’t say that,” Rindou grunted, adjusting the round glasses perched atop the bridge of his nose. “Just figured that Izana wouldn’t be too pleased if our only remaining human follower started losing faith in him.”

“Maybe you should’ve considered that before you told her everything.”

“Hey, hey,” he said, holding his hands up. “We haven’t been around humans in a long fuckin’ time. Got too excited and forgot that they’re sensitive. ‘Specially the girls. Besides…” Serious lavender eyes glanced over at Kakucho. “She ought to know. What Izana is really like, I mean.”

Kakucho stiffened. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Really? You don’t?” A sneer stretched across Rindou’s face. “Don’t play dumb, now. I thought you were better than that.”

“I’m leaving—“

“Izana isn’t the same benevolent god as he was back then and you know it. More than anyone else.”

His fists clenched at his side. Before Rindou could say anything else, Kakucho was gone, disappearing into the warm summer air and leaving behind only the loud droning hum of cicadas in his wake. He sighed. “Alright, you bastard, you can come out now.”

A chuckling Ran emerged from behind a tree. “Seems like you’re getting soft yourself, little bro.”

“Shut the hell up.”

A bush rustled nearby. Both brothers turned their heads to see Shion pop out, leaves clinging to his shaggy blond mane. “Why the hell is everyone eavesdroppin’ around here?”

“Fuck off, Shion.”

“Yeah, fuck off, Shion.”

—✧—

Once again, days passed idly by. Especially now that you were banned from returning to the village for the time being (not that you were very keen to go back anyway) you found yourself spending more time with Izana and his odd group of servants. Before long, though you hated to admit it at first, you gradually began to enjoy their company. The various yokai that lived in your vicinity were friendly enough but nothing could quite replace the value of human companionship. Or, at least, human-shaped; on occasion you caught yourself forgetting that they weren’t of this world. Their manner of bickering and daily shenanigans reminded you much of your own neighbors’ antics, back when you still lived in the village, and it left you feeling an odd sense of both warmth and longing.

Still, there was no doubt that despite watching Ran chase Rindou around the garden while holding a particularly disgusting gremlin of a demon; or Shion knock himself out by accident yet again; or Kakucho’s face flare with the brightest shade of red when he walked in on you changing… they were powerful, dangerous entities all the same.

“Hey, don’t wander off,” Rindou barked at you, snatching a demonic spirit from midair and crushing it in his fist. “If you go too far we can’t protect you properly.”

You glanced over your shoulder from where you had been perched on a boulder right at the boundary separating the shrine grounds from the forest, watching the malevolent dark shadows twist and dart through the trees. After mulling over your thoughts for a few seconds, you spoke. “Can’t I learn how to do it, too?”

“What?”

“To protect myself,” you huffed. “So you guys don’t have to worry so much about me.”

Rindou’s answer was immediate. “No.”

“Why not?”

“Because.”

You scrunched up your nose at him. “It’s not like once I know how to do it, I’m gonna start trying to beat them up for fun. I’m not Shion.”

The two of you ignored the sudden loud sneeze that erupted from inside the house.

“Look,” Rindou said, moving to sit beside you. “There’s a little you can do with the help of talismans and spells and shit, but even with Izana’s blessing it would take fuckin’ years for you to reach a level where you can get rid of even one of ‘em on your own. Self-defence isn’t gonna cut it; just ‘cause you can see ‘em now, doesn’t mean your physical body can touch ‘em.”

“That’s okay,” you said, perking up visibly at the mention of talismans and spells. “I still want to learn. With you guys around, taking care of the shrine has gotten a lot easier—and some days I just get so bored, you know?”

“…You still feel lonely, huh.”

Your shoulders stiffened at his remark, then relaxed as you heaved out a sigh. “Sorry,” you mumbled. “I don’t wanna sound ungrateful or anything… but there’s still a part of me that wishes I could still be normal. Have a family. Chat with neighbours. Attend celebrations. Not hide, afraid of everything that lies right outside—at a distance so close, yet still can’t reach.”

Rindou was quiet as you talked, but in his mind he was frantically trying to recall how either Ran or Kakucho would comfort you; their way with words was far better than his in this sort of situation, much to his annoyance. Coming up blank, all he could think to do was grab your hand and pull you to your feet. “C’mon.”

“Wha— Where are we going?” Your round eyes darted from Rindou’s face to your clasped hands and back again, as if you couldn’t quite believe it.

“Inside, to get a paper and brush. Don’t get mad at me if you get tired, though; I’m not a nice teacher.”

He couldn’t help but sneak a glance at you, out of the corner of his eye. When he glimpsed your face bursting into a brilliant smile, he finally understood what Izana had been trying to save all along. Closing his eyes and allowing himself to feel the way your much smaller hand gently squeezed his, he could only hope that when the time eventually came, you would understand, too.

#tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x reader #tkrv #kurokawa izana x reader #kakucho x reader #haitani ran x reader #haitani rindou x reader #madarame shion x reader #my writing

[avenger-313]

For When I Am Weak, Then I Am Strong

Chapter 1

As of today, they had made good progress halfway through their journey and met with most of their assets. They were supposed to reach Dimbar to wait out the storm and the coming night. That was to say if they hadn't faced a complication that had doubled his trepidation. Because now he faced not only bad weather but a hoard of Orcs pouring in from the surrounding hills right into their path.

The cover of clouds in the approaching twilight had helped the nasty beasts, and the thunderstorm had made it easier to take them by surprise without being heard. The fact that Moryo and his elves had been riding nonstop for several hours to leave Nan Dungortheb behind also contributed to furthering their plight. Their horses were not ready for a long gallop.

Cursing under his breath, the lord of Thargelion thrust his spear up from the side and arched it forward, motioning his elves to plunge through. Their numbers were not enough for spreading out; if they could fight an opening right in the middle, they could hope to outrun the offending party. He blinked the rain from his eyes and gave a mighty battle cry as the orcs came within reach, rendering some of them breathless by his Power-induced Voice. He was not as strong as Makalaurë, but few could rival his fury on the battlefield.

Metals clashed and guttural screams of pain mingled with thunder, the first line of orcs falling under hooves. The second line was harder to kill, their disarray ruining the coordination of the elves. Some elves fell behind, some were moving too fast, and Carnistir could only shout for them to stay as close as they could.

Suddenly a dark shadow lunged at him, the weight knocking him back and forcing him to let go of his horse to forestall his fall along with his rider. Sharp teeth sank deep into his shoulder and he struggled to keep the scream in, then he hit the ground hard.

His ears were ringing. There was darkness around, all senses robbed of him for some moments. He heaved a breath that came with difficulty, then blinked his eyes against the darkness. His vision was spinning and his thoughts were scattered, but a mighty weight was pressing down on him. He tried to remember where he was and what had happened, but the weight had a decipherable shape now.

A werewolf.

#caranthir #the silmarillion #tolkien #fanfiction #whump #maedhros #maglor #aegnor #fingon #fingolfin #captured #werewolf

[yanderecrazysie]

Crucify (Yandere Todoroki Shoto)

Requested on Quotev!

Title: Crucify

Pairings: Todoroki Shoto x Reader

WARNINGS: Yandere themes, quirkless AU, bullying (not towards reader), OOC Shoto, mentions of abuse, delinquent reader

Summary: All Shoto wants is someone to come to his rescue.

“Every finger in the room is pointing at me

I wanna spit in their faces, then I get afraid of what that could bring

I got a bowling ball in my stomach

I got a desert in my mouth

Figures that my courage would choose to sell out now

I've been looking for a savior in these dirty streets

Looking for a savior beneath these dirty sheets”

-from “Crucify” by Tori Amos

Todoroki Shoto had once been known as the quiet, stoic, and somewhat rude, handsome outcast throughout the school. He was an odd boy without any friends, but everyone left him alone. It was a peaceful life.

Everything changed when his dad was arrested. He went from outcast to the number one target for bullies. He wasn’t entirely sure why, but he was sure that he hated this change.

Wasn’t it enough to have to survive everything his father put him through? Couldn’t he get a break, some sympathy, from his classmates?

Apparently not.

Most of the bullying occurred behind closed doors, when no one but his tormentors were around. He preferred it that way- no one around to watch him suffer. He was sure that’d be worse than the bullying itself.

He went home with his stomach a constellation of bruises, wishing he could tell his mother but not wanting to burden her with the knowledge when she was already dealing with so much. With no one to go to, he suffered in silence, only letting the tears escape when he was completely alone.

But at least no one else knew of his plight. That would just make him more pathetic than he already was.

“Hey Shoto- how’s your dear old dad doing? Hope he hasn’t dropped the soap yet, am I right?”

Shoto stiffened as one of his worst bullies sidled up behind him, flanked by two other equally-intimidating boys. His heart dropped.

Not in front of everyone, please, anywhere else…

The bully’s voice was loud enough that people’s heads were turning to face the drama. Shoto could feel his cheeks burning as panic began to seize hold of him. He silently begged the bullies to do this later, when they were alone, but it wasn’t meant to be.

“Did your daddy do this to you?”

Shoto was suddenly shoved roughly to the ground, landing hard on his back and cracking his head against the sticky cafeteria tile. His vision spun as his bullies towered above him, beginning to laugh at his pathetic state.

To his horror, they weren’t the only ones laughing. In fact, the mocking noise was spreading across the room like wildfire, burning Shoto to his core and making bile rise in his throat. This was the worst case scenario.

Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t-

“Awww, is itty bitty Shoto about to cry? How saaaaaad.”

Tears filled his eyes and he desperately willed them back as he tried to stand. One of the bullies firmly placed his sneaker on Shoto’s chest, forcing him back onto the ground. One tear slipped out and, as if a switch had been flipped, more followed quickly after.

It happened in an instant. One moment, his bully loomed over him, the next, his blond hair stuck to his face, wet and stained with chocolate. The bullies scurried out of the way to face their next target.

You stood there, looking both pissed and bored at the same time, holding an empty chocolate milk carton in one hand, the other placed on your hip.

“What’s wrong with you all? Bullying someone because their dad abused them? How is that his fault? How pathetic are you?”

Shoto watched in awe as you barked out your questions, the bullies flinching with each word and backing away from you. Your facemask had been pulled down so you could tear into them even more.

“Get lost, losers. Pick on someone your own size or, better yet, go look in the mirror at your pathetic, ugly faces and punch yourself in the balls before I do.”

The boys hurried away, giving you one last timid look as you crushed the carton in your hand and tossed into the nearby trash can. 

Shoto recognized you as one of the school delinquents. One that nobody messed with.

And you had defended him?

“Thank you,” he managed to get out, eyes shining no longer with tears, but with admiration.

“Yeah, whatever.” You shrugged and turned around, walking away without a care in the world.

Shoto wanted to be like you- he wanted to scare away his bullies with just one glare. He wanted to be untouchable.

No, there was something deeper to his wishfulness. It wasn’t just that he wanted to be like you, more like he wanted to be with you. You could protect him and he could… well, he didn’t know what he could do in return, but he’d do just about anything to make it up to you.

From that moment on, Shoto couldn’t get you out of his mind. Your harsh words, the way you looked at him softly after tearing apart his bullies, the way you protected him.

He wasn’t the type to talk much, but he had so many things he wanted to say to you. He wanted to thank you again and again, yes, but he also wanted to express just how much he admired you, on the brink of obsession.

He began to watch you walk around the school. Follow you even.

He loved the way you didn’t seem to care about anyone you passed by. He craved that indifference but he also wanted you to notice him. Talk to him. Love him.

Maybe he’d have to work harder to get your attention.

#yandere #yandere one shot #yandere x reader #one shot #my hero academia #yandere my hero academia #yandere shoto #todoroki shoto