#I already have screw on spikes

[ghostickle]

I’ve made jewelry before but it’s normally kinda childish fun colorful stuff but I don’t wear things like that and anyways I just ordered a bunch of stuff to work with leather and spikes and chains n everything instead

[tswwwit]

I would love, even if its just its just brief summaries, to know the different thoughts going through bills head throughout the last smut. (mainly when he got the text and when dipper starts just blurting out thoughts and ideas bc i think those moments would be fun to see)

Imagine you're having the shittiest day at work. You're gritting your teeth and hanging onto it by your fingernails, knowing that eventually dealing with this absolutely idiotic, waffling, overstuffed, condescending dipshit of a client will be done with, you'll charge him out the nose for your services - which will probably be, like a hundred dollars, the way this is going! What bullshit. At least afterwards, you can collapse onto the bed and complain to your spouse about it. Which you have been doing, actually, waiting for a decent excuse to bail or check out early.

Then you get a text. And it's your partner saying they got you a brand new console, your favorite pizza - Oh! And a million bucks in untraceable cash - but you might have to kick your shitty client in the nuts so hard his eyes pop out. Does that sound... okay? No pressure or anything.

The reason Bill was a minute later than expected is because even he needed a moment. It was the sheer whiplash from going from Shit to Fucking Amazing.

[mochinomnoms]

I'm curious about the dreams Idia was having about the reader.

(reference to this)

nsfw under read-more, minors DNI!

It's quite silly, really. Idia was never one to yearn for the touch, closeness, the affections of a person. He was fine, being alone. It was better this way. He could cope with his games and shows, online groups and friends filling the void. Besides, why would he want to drag another person into the Shroud curse? It already took one person from him, Idia couldn't stand doing it to another as long as it was up to him. Plus, he wasn't exactly prime boyfriend, let alone husband material (perhaps he did that intentionally).

So, Idia wasn't all too worried when he first started becoming friends with you. You were kinda weird, but a friend to introverts like him! Somehow always a wallflower, but always involved in the chaos of overblots and school. But, you were conscientious of his need for space and privacy; Ortho must have said something to you about his eating habits, cause you started bringing food other than chips, soda, and ramen cups for him to eat, like actual meals. You also liked to entertain Ortho, who liked when you drew silly designs on his plating, which is always a plus in Idia's book. You were sweet, like his favorite ramune soda. Despite having abysmal skills in gaming (which he was all too happy to make fun of you for) he liked having you as his support, watching him on the sidelines and being a cute cheerleader. In exchange, Idia lent you an old gaming computer and bullied tutored you in a few of his favorite games so you could be his squishy healer in raids.

But, he was a bit worried when he started feeling something more than platonic things for you. Then, he was exceptionally concerned when, at the first day of spring, Idia started coughing hydrangeas, which he managed to secretly keep under wraps from Ortho for a few weeks. No, he was downright mortified when, during those few weeks, night after night, he started having dreams of you.

They started off innocent at first: you on his lap, head on his shoulder, as he played the latest RPG. You murmured words of encouragement, sleepily nuzzling your head into his. Another, he was in the board game club, where you cheered him on as he won a match against Azul in some luck-based game. Idia remembers giving Azul a smug smirk as you threw your arms around him and pressed kisses into his cheek. He even faintly remembers one where you simply sat with him in class, fingers lacing through his in comfort as he dealt with the anxiety of being out and about.

It wasn't until he was a week in when the dreams, infested with hydrangea bouquets always at the corner of his eye, that he knew he was utterly screwed beyond belief.

It started off sweet, at first. This time, you were with him at Styx, though you looked a few years older and were wearing a similar uniform to his mother. He was wearing the uniform as well, though it more closely resembled his father's. He was now Styx head, and you, his precious little wife. The domestic stuff was fine, it made his heart rate spike up so much that Ortho questioned if he had a nightmare while sleeping, but it was fine he could deal. You did look cute… as you smiled up at him… leaned up to kiss his cheek… and whisper in his ear…

“Idiaaa~ What if I crawled under your desk and sucked you off? Do you think you could stay quiet? You can, can't you? For me~”

It was fuzzy, when he tried to remember it, but Idia remembers the heat pooling in his belly. Your hands trailing down his chest down to his hips. Your lips following after and pressing soft, slow kisses down and down until—

Idia's flames grew into a burning, hot pink as his face is in his hands the following morning. He'd actually gone to bed at a reasonable time (to him anyway, 3 am was reasonable), and woke up with that in his head? How was he supposed to function? How was he supposed to look at you, talk with you, when the last memory he had was a dream of you sucking him off???

It progressively got worse from there. It was a weird mix of erotically domestic scenarios. You, waking up to him in bed before work, riding him as you cooed sweet words. Another of the two of you heavy petting, his hands groping your ass as you curled your body into his, making out in his office before Idia had to run off to a meeting, leaving you pouting and telling him to, “Hurry back to your needy little wifey~” One of you cooking him breakfast in one of his shirts, before he bent you over the kitchen counter, after which you sat on his lap and hand fed him.

The last one that really freaked him out, which led to him further isolating himself until Ortho dragged him out to the nurse, was one where he woke up to you next to him in bed. You smiled the sweetest smile to him, whispering to Idia how much you loved him, moving over to press a trail of kisses from his lips, to his neck, down his chest and abdomen. Idia was anticipating the same follow-up from his first dream, especially as your hands reached to pull his briefs down before a soft whine, followed by a cry, interrupted you.

He had no clue what to think, as you make a surprised noise, smiling at him, as the following words left your mouth: “The baby's awake, guess we'll have to continue this later, huh?” Dream Idia giggled along with you as the two of you shared a kiss, watching as you rolled off the bed to the bassinet that he was just noticing. He watched as you cooed and murmured soft words to the small, blue-flamed haired baby, reaching their tiny hands for you. But it was the next sentence that bolted him from sleep into a dry sweat:

“Say good morning! Say, 'good morning' to your baba, my darling~”

Idia let out a screech as he flailed out of bed, tangled in his sheets. He was coughing up a storm of hydrangeas when Ortho flew in, panicked and already full of concern for Idia's health. It was then Ortho started insisting that Idia visit the infirmary, much to his chargin.

At least you'd never see him like this… right?

[matchavellichor]

A Losing Game

A/N: was in the mood to write pure filth so here's some jealous sebastian smut lul. also i left the context intentionally vague so that i could maybe write a prequel sometime but i hope it's clear they absolutely hate each other loool

Sebastian Sallow x f!MC - NSFW - 4.4k words - ao3

Summary: Watching his long-time rival and dueling partner kiss someone else ignites feelings in Sebastian that has him questioning just how similar hate is to desire.

Tags: Yule Ball, Enemies to Lovers, Pining Sebastian, Jealousy, Possessive Behavior, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Mild Prey/Predator, No Safeword

For the first time in their many years of friendship, Sebastian is the one being dragged to a social event he has no interest in being a part of. Ominis, taking no small amount of pleasure in this, leads them into the Great Hall with an amused smirk on his face, only biting his tongue because he’s respectful of present company. Sebastian frowns.

His robes are scratchy, his date is doused in a nausea-inducing amount of flowery perfume, and there’s not nearly enough firewhiskey in the spiked punch this year.

He tells himself pointedly, as if it’s a matter of public record, that he isn’t looking for her.

Even as his eyes comb over the crowd, and there’s a little pang of disappointment in his gut when he still doesn’t spot her after the third sweep.

“Stop sulking,” Ominis murmurs from beside him. “You look miserable.”

Sebastian proceeds to sulk even more. “How would you know how I look?”

“I’m blind, not oblivious.”

Sebastian rolls his eyes, sitting down at the table the blonde had chosen and preparing himself for an entire night of brooding.

He’d have no qualms in remaining seated in their desolate little corner for the entirety of the evening, but his date—Bianca or Beatrice or, maybe something with a D—has other plans.

She titters something about dancing, and then she’s suddenly tugging on his arm and dragging him towards parquet floors. In no mood to protest, he lets himself get weaved through pairs of students who are doing anything but respecting Headmaster’s Black rule to maintain a Potions textbook length apart.

So much for leaving room for Merlin.

He manages a tight-lipped smile when they stop under a cloud charmed to sprinkle snowflakes, small flurries of white blending into a halo around them. It’s a truly beautiful sight, a winter wonderland of silver and gold englobing them, yet despite this, Sebastian’s demeanor is tight and forced, starkly unhappy.

He pretends he doesn’t understand the reasoning behind his sour mood. Pretends he isn’t thinking about someone else’s hands, someone else’s smell, someone else’s eyes, and the obvious absence of them.

Sebastian feels dreadfully pathetic clinging to the prospect of even simply seeing her as a motivator to suffer through the remainder of the night.

He wonders when he became such a pining, spineless idiot and deduces it must’ve been somewhere during the first dozen times she’d knocked him on his ass in a duel. Surely, a screw was knocked loose then. Or a couple.

Sebastian swallows his displeasure and takes hold of a hand that’s not the right size, that doesn’t have the calluses and rough edges in the places he’s already far too familiar with. It’s easy to fall into pace, but it’s hard to enjoy it. Hard to pretend he’s dancing with someone else.

It’s then, glancing over his date’s shoulder through the haze of floating candles and snowflakes, that he finally catches sight of what he has decidedly not been thinking about all evening.

From the way he stills and all his attention narrows in on one person, you’d think Salazar Slytherin himself just made an appearance butt-naked on a unicycle.

Breath-taking is an understatement. Asphyxiating might be a more valiant contender. Sebastian would be impressed with himself if he managed to get enough oxygen in his lungs to keep his brain functioning for an entire night of staring at her across dance floors.

His eyes comb over every inch of the blood red floor-length gown she has on, head-to-toe, gaze rising to dust over the blush high on her cheekbones, even further up to the gems crested in her hair.

He takes a deep, fortifying breath, though it doesn’t do him any good.

Then, his attention narrows in on the person accompanying her and it’s like his stomach immediately pitches, falls down six flights of stairs, and subsequently plummets into a dark abyss, landing at the bottom with a pathetic, defeated sort of sound.

Because her arm is tucked into the crook of someone else’s elbow, and she’s smiling at something someone else is whispering in her, and despite being only a few feet away at this point, she doesn’t even spare a glance at Sebastian.

Instead, she drapes an arm around her date’s neck, which he reciprocates with a hand at the small of her back, pulls their bodies closer and—

Sebastian squeezes his eyes shut and refuses to look, turning away from what feels like betrayal, though he knows is the farthest thing from it.

Maybe that’s what feels the worst. What makes his mouth taste so bitter he could gag from it. It’s the realization that he has no right to feel so upset about any of it. That he can’t expect anything from her.

That she isn’t his.

His shoulders stiffen and he suddenly stops any movements, letting his hands drop from where they were rested at a chiffon-covered waist, stepping away.

His date calls his name, emitting some cross between a petulant whine and indignant scoff, but he doesn’t really hear her. He’s busy high-tailing towards the drink table and doing the mental math for how many teal-coloured glasses of spiked punch he’ll have to drink to self-induce a coma.

Ominis, with his hell-anointed sixth sense, meets him three-quarters of the way there, falling into step as they weave through pairs of students.

“This is your own doing, you know.”

He’s right, yet Sebastian would still throttle him if there weren’t so many witnesses around. He ignores him.

“Sebastian,” Ominis sighs. “You’re being childish.”

“You aren’t helping.”

“I’m not trying to,” Ominis says. “I thought I’d already made myself clear that I was on her side concerning this.”

Sebastian scowls. “Some friend you are.”

“All you had to do was ask her.”

“Asking her is admitting defeat,” Sebastian mutters over the rim of the glass he just poured himself. “She wouldn’t have ever let me live it down.”

“I don’t understand this game you two play,” Ominis frowns. “Would it have been so hard for you to humble yourself for just a moment?”

Sebastian takes a long drink. “Yes. In front of her, it would’ve been.”

“Then enjoy watching her dance with someone else for the remainder of the evening.”

Sebastian has just about decided to actually throttle Ominis, witnesses be damned, but he’s already making his way back into the crowd, out of reach.

Sebastian groans, yet doesn’t go after him. Refuses to.

From his position on the outskirts of the dance floor, he’s in blissful ignorance of whatever it is she’s doing at the moment. Despite the curiosity eating away at him from the inside, it’s some form of solace that at least he can’t see the smile he’d caught on her face. Can’t see the glow in her eyes, or her hands on her date’s robes, or all the affection he craves so ardently misdirected towards someone else.

Somehow, it’s worse.

And then, as if Fortune, on his damned quarry smiling, has decided Sebastian hasn’t endured enough for one pitiful night already, the steady crescendo of a waltz begins to build.

The crowd pulses and sways in tempo with the symphony, leaving breaches and eyelets, brief openings that he can’t tear his eyes away from, because even if it hurts, he needs to see her again.

That’s how he catches sight of her for the second time that evening. Like the seas parting to reveal a miracle, she finds herself right in his line of vision.

Sebastian conveys the tightening he feels in his chest into an ice-cold glower, features hardened. He prays she’ll just look. Even if it’s something fleeting, a split second of a glance.

Once again, her eyes never make their way anywhere near him.

It’s almost intentional, in a way that drives him insane. As if she knows where he is, and she’s skirting over him pointedly, antagonistically. Sebastian wouldn’t be surprised if it were intentional, a gleaming testimony to all the other ways she manages to get under his skin.

The dancing body of students continues to shift, like a pendulum, back and forth, revealing and concealing. He clings to the momentary sight of her, and still, like a fool, hopes that at some instance she’ll look back. Acknowledge him.

Give him some form of recognition so he doesn’t have to admit defeat so quickly. So that he knows that they’re still playing their game, that he’s not just losing alone.

The composition nears its apex, surrounding gowns and robes reaching a swirling mass of glitter and silks, and something heavy sinks inside of him, an impending sense of foreboding.

He knows what’s coming, somehow.

The orchestra finally reaching its climax.

Her fingers threading through the hairs at the nape of her date’s neck.

Her leaning forward, nose slotting against his, lips hovering over another’s and yet—

He doesn’t look away. Even if it feels like being split open, sternum cracked across the middle, until he’s left with a slick-red, yawning chest cavity.

He can’t look away, because her eyes are open and for the first time in the entire evening, they’re meeting his.

Like most instances involving her, he isn’t sure if he’s winning or losing anymore.

She doesn’t look away, and he can’t bring himself to either. It’s like he’s standing there, split from top to bottom, voluntarily exposed for her to prod at, to ruin. And yet, there’s a bittersweetness to it all.

Her lips aren’t on his, yet she’s looking at him as if she wishes they were.

There’s something taunting in her eyes. Something he might’ve mistaken as a threat if they were in their usual setting, mid-duel in the Undercroft.

A challenge.

It takes him a moment to realize that context shouldn’t matter. This is an invitation for battle, a glaring provocation. He stares.

The sight of her mouth on someone else’s makes bile rise in his throat, makes him so filled with rage and revulsion that he thinks he might suffocate on it all. Yet the sight of her eyes, the sheer amount of longing she’s able to convey in such a short glance, is enough to invigorate him, to channel all his rage and wanting into something else.

His legs move of their own accord.

Her reflexes are as sharp as they are in battle.

The second she sees him coming towards her, she reacts. Murmurs a hurried apology towards her date, who looks so confused Sebastian would almost feel bad for the bloke if he didn’t want to strangle him so violently.

She’s immediately cutting through the crowd towards the opposite direction, her eyes trained on one of the exits. He picks up his speed, but she’s quicker than him, smaller, able to duck through bunches of students with ease, even with her dress hindering her movements.

Adrenaline trickles up his spine. She throws him another glance over her shoulder and smirks, sly and knowing, a look that writhes under his skin in the way her glances always do.

Even if he’s the one chasing her, Sebastian feels awfully like the rodent in their little game of cat and mouse.

They both step into the quiet of the dimly-lit hallway, the sounds of the party bleeding away as the door shuts behind them, casting them in silence.

There’s a split moment where she spins around to look at him, chest heaving. The live-wire tension between them is pulled so taut it’s a miracle the air doesn’t crackle with static.

Neither of them move for a long moment, until her lips curl into a smile.

She breaks into a run and Sebastian doesn’t miss a beat.

He chases after her, his heart pounding with something primal, something instinctive. Like his self-control might slip away from him when he catches her, like he might just sink his teeth into soft flesh, dig his nails into supple skin. She runs as if she’s just as aware of this fact as he is.

He almost wants to punish her for it. Bite and scratch and mark as if in vengeance for her thinking she could ever get away from him. For her forgetting that she’s anything but his, as if she should simply know it by now.

She’s fast, but she’s nearly tripping over the dress she has fisted in her hands, and her heels don’t help. All it takes is for her to stumble around a corner and he’s on her, grabbing her gown, pulling her towards him.

He spins her around, and she grunts when he slams her against the wall. Teeth bared, strands of the elegant updo she’d had her hair in falling down over her shoulders, glittery makeup smeared down her cheeks — she looks like something savage.

For some reason, it makes something deep-set inside Sebastian ache.

“Let go,” she grits, struggling against the hold he has on her wrists, under the weight of his body that has her molded to the wall.

His grip only tightens, frustration simmering low in his gut. Sebastian has never known desire like this, shadowed by fury. Want and anger, love and hate, repulsion and obsession.

“I know what you’re doing,” he hisses.

She stills her thrashing in favor of looking up at him through her lashes with an expression so innocent, it’s crucifying.

“Attending a dance?”

His jaw sets. “Don’t get smart with me.”

“Why, are you having a hard time keeping up?”

He stares at her for a long moment, jaw working in tandem with his thoughts. He runs his tongue over his bottom lip and she tilts her head, amused at how worked up he’s gotten.

“I know what you’re doing,” she says.

“And what’s that?”

“Thinking about how badly you want to kill me, probably,” she says. Her eyes fall to his lips and his breath stops in his throat. “Or kiss me. Haven’t quite worked out which one yet.”

“So certain that they’re mutually exclusive,” he murmurs, his gaze falling to mimic hers despite himself. “I think you forget that I’m very multi-faceted.”

“That I’m aware of,” she tilts her chin up, almost as if inviting him to press his mouth to hers, a siren’s call. “You manage to be mind-numbingly stupid and brilliantly obnoxious, all at the same time.”

He scoffs. “And you manage to be the most infuriating person on the planet.”

She seems starkly proud of the title. “What can I say, I invoke passion.”

“You invoke homicidal thoughts.”

“Not the only kinds of thoughts I invoke in you, is it, Sallow?”

He reddens. He’s spent too many showers hunched over his own fist with silencing charms plastered around the tiles for his response to be anything more than a blurted, evocative reaction.

“Anything you think I feel for you is precisely the opposite. I fucking despise you.”

He only notes a split second after that it’s not an outright denial.

Evidently, so does she. Because then, as if she were made to crawl under his skin, writhe underneath it until his nerves were a mess, she smiles.

What he truly despises is how pretty he finds it.

“You don’t hate me.”

He sneers. “Is that so?”

“Hate isn’t the opposite of love. Indifference is,” she leans in. “And I’d hardly call chasing me through the castle simply because I kissed someone else…indifferent.”

He decides then — or more accurately, his too-horny, too-angry, too-impulsive brain decides for him — to wipe the pleased grin off her face the most effective way he knows how.

With a hand fisted in her hair and his mouth crashing against hers.

It isn’t tender or sweet, nor the remotest definition of kind, but it’s fitting and dreadfully familiar, because it’s not like they’ve ever been nice to one another.

He lets go of her wrists to give her some fighting chance, because he’s cruel, but he prides himself on being fair. Instead of pushing him away, or going for her wand, or doing anything to indicate she doesn’t want this, however, she pulls him in. As if she knows exactly how to bring him to his knees, in any and all contexts, and revels in any opportunity to destroy him.

He almost thinks it’s a trap, another one of her grating ploys, but when she tangles her fingers in his hair and drags her nails down his scalp and kisses him back with just as much fervor as he does, it’s hard to believe it’s simply a farce.

Her tongue finds his and Sebastian wonders if they’ll ever do anything together that doesn’t mimic a battle. She fights for dominance in every stroke of her tongue against his, and his stubbornness refuses to grant her it.

“Fuck,” he groans against her mouth, because he’s learning just how much she kisses the same way she duels.

Dirty, unfair, brutal. Like she’s never been afraid of blood, or getting messy, or breaking things.

She stokes a fire that’s been simmering inside him until it’s red-hot and all-consuming, flames licking at the inside of his throat. He pulls her bottom lip between his teeth and bites until he tastes copper, finding some sick form of satisfaction at the pained little whine she lets out.

“You kissed him,” he pants, and there’s something raw in his voice. He rests his forehead against hers and stares at the crimson pooling on her lip. “You kissed him.”

She swallows. “I did.”

Sebastian despises how hurt he sounds. “I could kill him.”

“You won’t.”

“I could.”

“I know,” she nods, chest heaving against his. Her voice grows suddenly soft, until it’s barely a whisper. “I wanted it to be you.”

He groans, almost pained. “Did you?”

She nods.

“Has he ever touched you?”

She shakes her head.

“Tell the truth,” he says, fingers threading through the tangled remains of her chignon, tilting her face up towards him so he can meet her eyes. “Did you let him touch you?” He presses a leg between her thighs, barely able to feel her through layers of tulle. “Here?”

“No,” she gasps from the contact, nails scrambling to drag down his forearm. “Never.”

“Fuck,” he sighs, and tips his head down to press against her throat, drags his lips over her jaw. “Only me, hm? Say it.”

She shakes her head and his gaze darkens, pulling back to tighten his fingers still tangled in her hair, to tear a whimper from the back of her throat.

“No? Who then?”

“No one,” she whispers, and despite the tight angle her neck is at, despite the fear dancing behind her eyes, she smiles up at him again. “You haven’t touched me yet, though, have you?”

She’s baiting him, and he’s aware of it, and still it manages to work.

He feels his self-restraint slipping through the cracks of his fingers like sand. There’s traces of scarlet on her teeth he wants to drag his tongue over. He wants to suck the marrow from her bones.

He spins her around, presses her cheek into the cool flagstone of the corridor they’re in, and molds his body to hers.

“S-shit,” she curses when his patience wears thin and he yanks at the fabric hiding her body away from his, pulling at the skirt of her gown until it rips. “Asshole.”

“Looks better this way.”

His fingers coast up her thighs to hook into her knickers, tugging them down before she can protest. She gasps and he smiles against her cheek, pushing her hand away when she tries to cover herself.

He nips at her ear, his hand reaching between her legs to cup her sex, reveling in the way she tries to squirm away from him.

“What’s wrong? Going to act shy now?”

“Someone could see,” she grits, though something in her tone tells him she’s not going to stop him.

“Wouldn’t they be lucky.”

His breath stutters when he finally dips his fingers between her folds and finds how soaked she is. Something about the revelation is dizzying, the notion that she could possibly want this as badly as he does. He grinds his hips into her arse so she’s just as aware of how gone he is.

Immediately, his hand is fumbling with his belt, the other pressing bruises into her hip to keep her still. He kicks her feet open wider, spreading her for him. His fingers flex on her hip in anticipation.

“You have full permission to use any Unforgivables you want on me if you want me to stop,” he murmurs, burying his nose in her hair and inhaling deeply. He groans. “You’re not getting me off of you in any other way.”

When she doesn’t make any move for her wand he positions himself at her entrance, rubbing to coat himself in her fluids. Her breathing is heavy against the wall she’s pressed against, her gasps coming out in soft little pants. He revels in them for a long moment.

Then, he’s impaling her and all of her breathing stops. Replaced instead by a strangled sort of sound, as if he’d managed to knock out all of the air in her lungs with a single thrust. His jaw falls slack.

He manages to composure himself enough to murmur in her ear, voice hoarse. “Hurts?”

She chokes out a sob, nodding weakly. Her head falls against the wall, clenching around him as she tries to adjust to his size.

His hips snap forward again, even harsher this time, burying himself to the hilt and tearing a yelp out of her throat. “Good.”

“S–Sebastian—”

He pauses, so deep inside her he can feel every little pulse, hips flush against her arse. “Want me to stop?”

Miraculously, she shakes her head. It’s never like her to back down from a fight, after all.

“Of course,” he chuckles, though it sounds uncharacteristically strained, imprecise. Like he’s losing his grip. His head falls to her shoulder and he moans, grunting feverishly against her skin as he starts a brutal, unforgiving pace. “You can take it. Look so pretty taking it.”

“Please,” she whines. “Too much, I–I can’t,”

“You’re a tough girl,” he whispers, tone vicious despite his words. “You’re going to shut your fucking mouth and take my cock.”

She nods fervently, obediently, and Sebastian thinks he deserves a medal for not finishing right then. He yanks her hips back from the wall, shifting the angle and she gasps when he feels him push in even deeper.

“Oh my God,” she moans. “Good — feels s’good, yes, yes. Plea–please don’t stop.”

“Fuck,” he grunts, voice sandpaper-rough. He snakes a hand to her front to rub tight little circles between her legs. “Look at you babbling. Dumb little cock-drunk slut. Can’t even think properly with me inside you like this, can you?”

Her response is too garbled for coherence, a mess of moans and pleas. He groans in a way that’s almost just as saturated with desperation, that tells her she’s not alone in her unraveling. He pulls her head back to smash his lips to her, stifling all kinds of confessions that threaten to escape him.

She breaks the kiss to gasp for air and his fingers swirl against her just right. She tightens. “Gonna — m‘gonna cum,”

“Yeah? Come for me, baby,” his voice breaks on the word, and he’s aware he’s practically begging. He’s too far gone to care, so he scrapes a kiss to her heat-flushed cheek and properly pleads.

“Please. So fucking beautiful. Let me see your pretty face when you come undone for me,” he stares down at her through half-lidded eyes and briefly contemplates the possibility that he’s died and gone to heaven when she looks back at him. “That’s it, look at me.”

He studies her as he sends her over the edge and pulls himself over along with her, her lashes fluttering as she struggles to keep her eyes on his.

The sight is enough to ruin him.

Her makeup a mess from the tear tracks running through them, the hair fisted in his hands in an even worse state, and somehow— she still manages a lopsided smile, as if beyond pleased with herself.

He’s faintly aware of the fact she’s won. He makes peace with the realization.

There’s nothing but the sound of their heavy breathing to fill the silence in the hallway as Sebastian tries to regain his bearings, still buried inside her. Neither of them move for a long moment, and Sebastian likens it to the peace following a war, a brief period of prosperity.

He’s conscious that it’s temporary.

She winces when he finally pulls out of her, their shared spend trickling down the insides of her thighs, her knees nearly giving out to the point he has to hold her up, even if his own legs feel dreadfully unstable.

It doesn’t take her long for her to detach her body from his own, to duck under his arm and slip away. Panic suddenly seizes his chest, dread trickling up his spine. For some reason, he can’t bear to watch her leave. He opens his mouth to say something—an apology, maybe—but she beats him to it.

“That was fun,” she says plainly, glancing back at him over her shoulder. It’s as if they’d just finished another duel. Hardly anything to bat an eye at. Sebastian is at a remarkable loss for words.

She hasn’t continued down the hallway, but she looks as if she’s prepared to.

He’s faintly aware of the fact he probably looks like a fish right now, jaw still slack.

When he doesn’t say anything, she turns her attention to righting her underthings and fixing the tattered remains of her gown. He watches her.

“Goodnight, Sebastian.”

Suddenly sprung to life by the threat of her absence, he takes a step forward. “I’ll walk you back.”

She snorts. “Ever the gentleman.”

“Unless, you’d like to, uh,” he stares down at his shoes, looking uncharacteristically sheepish. “I could transfigure something for us in the Undercroft.”

She looks amused. “My god, you’re insatiable.”

He reddens. “I didn’t mean—oh, Salazar, to sleep…I meant to sleep.”

She turns to face him fully and raises her brows. “You’re asking me if I’d like to forego my own bed in order to spend the night with you in a dusty cellar?”

Mortification washes over him. Why would she? He should’ve kept his mouth shut and walked her to her dorm room instead of deluding himself with the notion that this could’ve been anything more than a quick fuck.

She stares at him expectantly and his fingers twitch at his side with the desire to grab his wand and promptly Avada himself.

It’s then that she decides to saunter over to him, taking her time, until she’s right beside him and can tuck her arm into his. She gestures forward, almost impatient.

“Go on then. I’m little spoon.”

[kingofthe-egirls]

SILLY IS THE NEW SEXY: GEAR 5 LUFFY x Y/N

(cw: sex, flirting, squirting, creampie, silliness)

(an: i can't stop writing about gear 5 luffy)

Songs: "Monkey and Bear" by Joanna Newsom

words: 2.1k

You have curves like the sea, and as soon as Luffy lays eyes on you, he knows you’re different.

You ooze sex.

It clings to you like a second skin, as if sex appeal is a boa constrictor draped around your neck. Glittering and emerald, luxurious and reptilian, with striking ferocity in every touch.

He can’t keep his eyes off you.

“Captain,” you say smoothly one night, enjoying drinks in the firelight, “You’re staring again.”

Luffy freezes, and then giggles sheepishly with his hand behind his head. “Shishishi, sorry,” he says, “M’not tryna be rude.”

“What are you trying to do?” You ask curiously, tipping your champagne back from its crystal flute. It tastes like sour cherries.

“I dunno,” he says plainly, and leans back on his hands. His legs are splayed out in front of him, sitting on the wood of the deck. He knocks his feet together. “I like looking at you, I guess.”

You stiffen, flattered at his words, before you take another sip. Stars flutter overhead. Blue velvet stretches across the sky, and the silver moon is only half-full.

“Hmm,” you tilt your head, pleased, “I like looking at you, too.”

He beams at that, and you both gaze at each other steadily. The waves crash and echo around the softly creaking ship, lullabies all around you. You let your gaze rake over him, boyish in form with muscular limbs and a shining face. Black hair under his straw hat, sticking out in spikes. You hum, appreciative.

“I like it a lot, in fact.”

You flush at your boldness, but only slightly. You’re no stranger to flirtation, and this is getting fun.

Luffy cocks his head. “Whatcha like about it?”

You detail the planes of his body with your eyes, gray and hazy in the moonlight. You take another sip of fizzy, liquid gold.

“Your face,” you say first, honestly, “It always makes me happy. Especially when you smile,” you cup your own cheek in one hand. He crinkles his nose, pleased, and looks off to the side. The silent question hangs on his lips: What else?

“Your shoulders are next,” you let your eyes fall over his muscles like a featherlight touch. “Your arms, your strength. It’s really impressive. I like when you wear red,” you move to sit on your knees, lowering onto the ground from where you’d been perched in a deck chair. Luffy scoots closer to you, too. He holds his forearm in front of you, and flexes. His wide hand is clenched in a loose fist. You let your fingers drift over swollen knuckles.

“Your hands,” you say softly, heat blooming in your gut. “You have really gorgeous hands,” you confess, and turn away before you can embarrass yourself further. You never knew the flirtation would get this far, with him sitting so close to you he’s radiating heat like the sun. You flick a lock of hair over your shoulder, and bump slightly into him. You clear your throat, “What about me?”

“Your curves! I like the way they look like waves,” he drags a broad hand across your waist, and pinches at the fat of your belly. “I like the way this rolls over,” he says, voice low, “I like the way your thighs shake as you walk. I like your ass,” he says the crass compliment like it’s nothing, like his touch isn’t burning hot lava into you. “I like the way you smell.”

“What do I smell like?” You breathe, already too far gone to pretend any further. You’re putty in his rubber hands.

He screws up his nose in thought. “Like butter? Or maybe…sea salt?” He licks his lips, “It smells tasty.”

“You smell good, too,” you blush, turning away. He knocks his shoulder into yours. You scoot closer, so your legs are touching. He hooks an ankle over yours. “Like tea.”

“Good tea?” He asks, and you nod. Tentatively, you lean your head onto his shoulder. He hesitates, breath held, but then relaxes into your touch quite naturally. He rests his head on top of yours, fluffy hair tickling your cheek.

“Very good tea,” you affirm. Your body is electrified, never having been this close to your captain before. “Do you like girls?” You ask abruptly, not wanting to tread water for any longer. You need to breathe.

“Mhmm,” he says, nodding against the top of your head. “Lotta people think I don’t, but I do.” He twines his fingers around yours, bringing them to rest on his lap. “D’you like boys?”

“Too much,” you chuckle, and sit up from him again. “Do you like me?” You gaze at him truthfully, letting your want and desire seep through into your skin. Your captain is clueless, but not that clueless. He regards you with a princely stare.

“Too much,” he echoes, and leans forward to kiss you.

****

Now, you’re suspended in midair, back pressed against the cabin wall, while Luffy fucks you senseless.

He’d brought you to his cabin, pressing your back against his door. He'd reached behind your supple hips to turn the deadbolt into its lock.

“Love ya, kitty,” he breathes into your shoulder, before scraping his teeth along your sensitive skin. “Love how ya move around like no one’s watching. As if anyone could ignore those fuckin’ curves.”

He grips hard at your ass, his other arm supporting your lower back. Your shoulder blades scrape against the cabin wall. He tastes like sea salt, and milk. You stick your tongue down his throat.

“Mmph,” Luffy moans into your throat, languid thrusts rocking you gently. He reaches down to thumb at your clit between you.

“So good, baby,” you croon, raking your fingers through the soft hair at the base of his neck. He flickers gold for a second, white hair foaming at the ends of his raven strands. “Luffy?” You ask, watching his eyes swirl rosy. He giggles, grin wide, as he speeds up inside you. Your stomach bulges with his cock, and he gasps in mad abandon.

“Look at that…,” he whispers, feeling the head of his cock through your abdomen. Your stomach is not flat by any means (quite the opposite), but that doesn’t matter for Monkey D. Luffy. If he wants to see his cock, he’s gonna see his fucking cock.

“Luffy!!” Gasping for breath, watching his dick thrust in and out of you like you’re both made of rubber. Little hearts sprint in circles around his face, little ducklings following suit. He giggles, and you do, too.

Your eyes haze over into gold, with pink flecks of light bouncing around your tits. “Fuck—,” you gasp, watching the now curly-haired Luffy grit his teeth and fuck you hard. He lifts you off the wall, bucking his hips up into your cunt from below. The sounds of his balls slamming against your ass reverberates through the room, before his eyes bug out of his head like cartoon hearts. He’s slacked-jawed, tongue hanging out of his mouth as a wolf whistle sounds from somewhere off to the side.

“Aaaahhhh, kitty, ya feel so—oh!—goood!!!” He wails with his eyes squeezed shut. His muscular abs clench as he pistons his hips up into you. His cock is huge now, cartoonishly big as he pummels up into your cunt. It slaps and gushes, your clit aching, as Luffy tightens his hold around you. He leans down to bury his face in your tits, sucking hard on your sensitive nipples. He rolls his tongue around them, before elongating the muscle to wrap around your tit like a slimy tentacle. The tip flicks at your nipple.

Electricity bolts through you, zinging up your spine and down to your toes. Steam is curling around your face, presumably pouring out of your own ears. Luffy is giggling, manic, before leaning backward to careen you both into the bed. He jackhammers up into you, sitting now with you on his lap. His long tongue moves around your tit, sucking and licking like an animated restraint. His limbs are rubber wrapped around you now, sparks flying from where your bodies connect. His cock is thrusting sloppily against your cervix, which usually hurts but with him slams stars into your eyes. Your body is as elastic as he is, apparently.

Your fingers curl into his hair. “Luuuffyyyy,” you groan.

“Haahahaha!!!” He cackles, slurping his tongue back into his mouth. He slaps your other tit with a smack that makes a sound like a spring.

He leans down to suck your other nipple, not wanting his baby to feel uneven. His lips wrap around your bud, soft and chapped as he plays you with his tongue. Slow, sensual licks all over your hardened bud send shivers coursing through you. Luffy giggles, before ramming you down hard onto his aching cock. His lips stay tightly glued to your nip, so it makes your tit bounce up and down like a fucking porno. Luffy crosses his eyes up in pleasure.

Sex with new Luffy is freaky as fuck.

But (surprisingly?) his silliness has in no way deterred you from your own sparkling orgasm.

“S’fun, isn’t it?” He asks as he pops off your overstimmed nipple. You nod, vigorously. You push him forward onto his back, so that you can ride him at your own haphazard pace. You sink down further onto his cock, letting him hit it from below. Your elbows are on either side of his manic head. Your hips rocket repeatedly down into his, both of you grunting with every thrust.

Steamy hearts explode in front of your eyes.

"So fucking fun," you say, searing his grin into your senses for later. You're gonna be thinking about this hookup for ages.

Your pussy clenches at the thought, of maybe not having this be a one time experience, as Luffy moans. He stutters, grabbing your hips in searing hands.

Captain Luffy whines, head thrown back in sheer joy. His cock is bullying your walls, smaller now but no less thick. He brushes up against your g-spot, over and over again. It feels like something is going to spring out of you at any minute. You squeeze your eyes shut, feeling the impending release of your shaky orgasm. A wolf whistle sounds off again, steam clouding the room. You gasp, as you cum.

“Luffy!!” You squeal, heat overtaking you as you shiver in ecstasy. “Luuffy, fuuuuck….,” you drawl out, dragging your hands over his sculpted chest. He’s heaving in ragged breaths, scarlet blushed formed on his squishy cheeks.

“Squirt for me,” he commands, thumbing at your clit in rough circles. “Cmon, baby, I know ya can do it.”

He presses down hard against your lower abdomen, twitching his cock up inside you as you ride him. You bounce your way to orgasm, screaming and crying for the whole ship to hear. Somewhere deep in your core, you squirt onto his lower abdomen. Luffy laughs, giddy.

“S’coming, baby,” he warns you, eyes dark, as his thrusts grow sloppy. He slams his hips up into you, cock thrusting against your sweetest spots.

So deep--!

“Yeeesss,” you breathe, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. You bury your face in moonlight hair.

“Ganna—,” he stutters, hips shuddering as he cums inside you with a violent thrust.

His eyes cross in pleasure as he spills his seed inside you.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!”

Luffy gasps, eyes squeezing shut as a wave of orgasmic, cosmic energy flows through him. He’s never had sex like this, before. He’s never had you, before. No way he’s letting you slip away, now.

“Say you’re mine, baby,” he says, sweating and panting as you both come down. His fingers trail along your hipbones. “I wanna be yours."

He's panting, his voice raspy and hoarse.

His hair is dark, now.

You watch as the last shreds of cartoon hearts fade out of existence around you. The steam has cleared up, too. And no more whistles sound. You snicker, "Sex is so fun, with you."

"Shishishi," he grins. And then, "Say you're mine, baby? Pleeaseee?" He whines up at you, and you snort.

"Sure thing, captain," you slide off of him, and he groans, "I'm all yours."

"Seriously," he pouts, poking your inner thigh. Your leg twitches, still spasming from the aftershocks. "Sex isn't usually this fun."

"Even after Gear 5?"

He smirks, "Steam was new. But," he looks up at you, wide-eyed and serious, "I really do wantcha, y/n."

You still, regarding him down the length of your nose. Your chest is fluttering, crazy butterflies going off in your stomach. "Sex is one thing," you allow, scared, "But relationships are a whole other thing. Seriously means you're serious with me. S'okay?"

Luffy nods. His grip tightens around your hips, as he sits up. "Seriously," he says, hand running over your thighs, "Silly, maybe. But serious." His face darkens, "And I don't wanna play games with you."

You swallow, and nod.

"Me neither."

****

[denwritesandcries]

Call me Yours – N.S

Pairing: natalie scatorccio x fem!reader

Summary: You’re in a closet with Natalie Scatorccio. How ironic.

Word count: 2,3k.

Content: NSFW minors dni, no crash!AU, cursing, arguing, jealousy, makeout session, thigh riding, slightly toxic behavior?? but it wouldn't be a yellowjacket relationship if it weren't just a little.

Note: Is it a secret relationship?? Friends with benefits??? I don't know man but they’re horny.

English is not my first language.

You're in a closet with Natalie Scatorccio.

There is a party going on outside, students filling the rooms of Lottie's house with loud generic music playing in the background, but the small room you two were locked in remained silent, too silent.

“See ya’ in 7 minutes, ladies!” Van's mocking voice cuts through the air, but a knife could have done the same; the blonde snorts and you roll your eyes, fixing your gaze somewhere in the darkness so you don't have to face her.

“Ugh, how old does she think we are?” Natalie hisses, you can feel her eyes on your face, even though you can't see much more than the outline of her body at the moment.

You say nothing, arms crossed over your chest and a frown covering your face, Nat tries again:

“I didn’t even want to come to this stupid party.”

“I get it,” you bite, just because you know her well enough to guess that she won’t stop complaining until she gets something out of you, “I get that you don’t want to be here, Natalie.”

She must finally realize how mad you are – mad at her – at the sound of her full name instead of the nickname that always seemed to be on the tip of your tongue, because you swear you can hear her teeth chattering when she shuts her mouth.

With a growl of frustration, you let your head hit the wall with a thud. Great, your night was already being shit, the last thing you needed was to end up playing 7 minutes in heaven with the person who was the cause of your bad mood. Simply amazing.

You see, Natalie had been acting weird for days now, randomly avoiding your company and acting like she didn't know you in the school hallways and being really rude to you during practice. Now, this might even be normal and acceptable behavior from the quiet blonde if you were anyone else, but you weren't. You are her girlfriend.

Are? Were? You don't know for sure anymore given the way she's been acting lately.

Maybe it wouldn't have made you so angry – confused? Yes. Sad? Definitely, but not angry like that – if it weren't for today, for the party.

You had planned to meet Nat at Lottie's party and corner her to finally make her explain what the hell is wrong, dammit, because one afternoon you're smoking with your girlfriend and friends quietly in the basement and the next she's throwing you daggers with her glance every time you open your mouth around her. Anyway, that's what you were going to do, until you found her in the Matthews' giant kitchen leaning against the counter with a cup of beer in her hand and Kevyn Tan practically throwing himself at her, keeping an arm full of spike bracelets wrapped around her shoulders and face with heavy makeup too close to hers to be considered friendly, drooling for Nat like he's always done since you've known about his existence.

Now that really pissed you off.

Who does that sad, emo, pitiful boy think he is to touch your girlfriend like that? And why is she letting him?

You think she could feel you fuming as you stared at them from the door, because the next second she lifted her head and looked at you like a deer caught in the headlights, as if she knew exactly that she was doing something she shouldn't have.

Screw it, you thought, if she'd rather act like you didn't matter anymore, then fine. You won't be standing just watching.

You turned around and only managed to disappear around the house for the next half hour before Taissa appeared with a tired frown and practically dragged you to where the group had gathered with an empty bottle, because Van and Jackie wanted to play something – 'If I'm in this, then you’re too!’ – and well, fuck.

You two have been completely quiet for almost a whole minute and that it's eating you alive; Nat has always handled silence well, you haven't.

Fidgeting with the hem of your own shirt angrily, you huff and give up on the tough act, the blonde straightens up when she hears your footsteps approaching her.

"What is happening?" Your voice comes out in a shamefully desperate tone, “Why are you acting like this with me? What did I do?"

You can see her now, being so close and now used to the dark; her fists are clenched, Natalie keeps her eyes fixed on your figure. For a moment, you think she's going to keep her cold facade and avoid your question with some sarcastic response, she most likely considered it, from the way her mouth opens and closes for a quick moment.

She turns her face to the side, trying to hide, but you can see the difference in tone in the paleness of her skin anyway. Oh, she's embarrassed.

“Nat?”

She mumbles something you don't understand, then your curiosity gives way to the anger and your hands find her face, turning it so Natalie is looking at you.

"What was this?" You ask again, softly this time.

“You called me your girlfriend.” She spits it out fast as if it were just a single sentence, rolling her eyes at your confused face, “You called me your girlfriend to everyone when we were smoking after practice last week.”

Oh, you remember that, when Jackie decided to lecture you all about the smell of smoke that lingered on her clothes after she and Shauna decided to tag along on one of your hangouts with Lottie, Van and Tai, turning up her nose and talking about how you all – and especially Nat – should stop with this habit. ‘Jackie, stop bothering my girlfriend!’, that’s what you said. Is that what made you spend a whole week grounded in the doghouse?

“...And isn’t that what we are?” You try, unsure. This conversation is not taking a very pleasant turn toward a reconciliation.

Nat bites hard her bottom lip, you can see her struggling with the next words:

“It’s just… no one was supposed to know.”

“Oh,” you mutter pathetically, sounding very much like a wounded puppy, “So that’s the problem.”

You're in a closet with Natalie Scatorccio. How ironic.

You can tell she regrets it the moment she says it, grabbing your hands in hers as you pull away.

“No, no, I’m sorry. I– I didn’t mean it like that.”

“How did you meant that then?” Your initial anger and frustration return with a vengeance, you move forward until Nat's back hits a shelf in the small room.

Natalie always does this. Avoid anything that labels your relationship as real; calling your dates ‘hangouts’, not touching you when there are people around, leaving your house before you wake up in the morning, avoiding kisses and caresses that don't initiate anything sexual, calling you ‘friend’ when you can see that the whole team knows this is not all you two are.

Still, – still – she always shows up at your house when she's upset; she doesn't like it when you miss your 'hangouts'; always stays close to you wherever you are together; gets mad when she sees you talking to other girls, even if they are nothing more than classmates; leaves marks all over your body, but doesn't let you do the same, spots and more spots all over your neck that are impossible to cover. People know that you're dating, they just don't know that you're dating Natalie.

And then she gets mad at you for finally putting a name to whatever this is and starts avoiding you completely, even though it's been months since it all started and you've known each other for years.

Nat gasps when your hands find her waist with a firm grip, bringing your lips closer to her ear:

“I’m gonna make you want me to be your girlfriend.”

You swear you feel the shiver that runs through her body. Nat smells like cigarettes and mint gum and it tastes the same when your mouth meets hers.

Her arms are around your neck before she's even processed what's happening, black painted nails playing with the hair on the back of your neck like it's second nature – and it is.

The way Natalie tilts her head to deepen the kiss and bites your lip hard when your hands come up to caress the skin under her shirt says your actions are much appreciated.

The husky, needy moan that escapes your throat when you realize she's braless, palming and massaging her soft skin brings a cocky smile to her face, she sighs, breaking the kiss and letting her head fall back against the shelf in satisfaction.

Nat doesn't moan, not like you do. She seems to want to hold back as much as possible, taking all kinds of reactions from you and your body, but not giving the pleasure of having the same from her. You want to change this.

You let your mouth roam from her strong jaw to her pale neck, leaving wet kisses, bites, and marks. Many marks. You bite the thin skin in different spots, soothing the bite with your tongue, hoping for the spots to form and stay there for days, for everyone to see.

You lazily slide a knee between her legs when you feel Natalie try to turn you around to take control. You usually let her do it, but not today. She squeals in surprise and pleasure, hips instantly grinding against you.

“Nah-ah, Nat,” you cut, bringing a hand down to slow the pace of her hips, “I guess you shouldn’t take anything today, or do you think I forgot about how much you paid attention to that little emo bastard earlier, huh?”

“You hate him that much, huh?” She tries to say in a mockery tone, wanting to turn the tables again, but it sounds pathetic as her voice breaks later in the last words.

“Yes,” you say easily, leaving a lingering kiss on her shoulder, finding her pulse point, “He was touching you. Touching my girlfriend.”

You bite down hard on the skin when Natalie turns her head to grant access and she moans, actually moans, fuck, you did it. A full sound, loud enough to make your pupils dilate until your irises almost disappear. This, this sound, you want to hear this forever.

It's been more than seven minutes, you think, or maybe our discussion was just really quick. You wonder if you would have time to take one of her breasts into your mouth, feeling the way she rolls her eyes and thrusts her hips against your thigh, now free from your hands, when you roll her nipples hard between your fingers.

She sighs as she receives another kiss from you, much softer now, more affectionate, feeling her hand tracing circles on your cheek.

A quick, loud knock on the door startles you both, making Nat jump and bang her head against one of the shelves behind her and knock something over, “Fuck!” She screams and you instinctively reach for her head to check for injuries.

You look at the source of the knock, it's definitely not Van calling, she would have opened the door at once just to laugh at your faces.

“Girls, time is over!” Jackie's voice sings on the other side.

“Ugh,” Natalie grunts, clearly frustrated at being interrupted so abruptly, she takes the opportunity to finally take a look at the closet as you head towards the door, “Is this some kind of pantry?”

“I don’t know,” you shrug, “Rich people have so many random rooms scattered around their houses.”

There are loud whistles and jeers as you leave, half the football team gathered in the busy room and giving you knowing looks, you give Van the finger when she points out the traces of dark lipstick on your mouth.

“Were you guys actually going to fuck in there?” She teases, arching an eyebrow with a smirk.

You open your mouth to retort – probably with something stupid – but Natalie is quicker:

“Fuck off Van, stop bothering my girlfriend.”

Van gives up the provocation, raising her arms in surrender and Nat rolls her eyes as if she hadn't said anything important, but you're absolutely frozen, listening to your heart beating rapidly against your ears.

Natalie looks back when she notices you standing still and snorts in amusement at your reaction, grabbing you by the wrist and pulling you with her.

“C’mon,” she says, “Let’s go, silly, I got something to do–”

“Move!” Jackie interrupts with an anxious tone, pushing you gently by the shoulder and bouncing on her heels, “It’s our turn.”

You catch a glimpse of Shauna standing shyly behind her like a shadow being dragged to the closet and Jeff sitting on the floor with the rest of his classmates with the most confused and defeated expression you've ever seen as Nat hurriedly guides you out.

When you're about to get into her car, Natalie surprises you, grabbing your waist with her cold hands and pressing you against the door, hungry eyes fixed on your form.

“I–” you stutter nervously, “I thought we were going home?”

Natalie nods.

“We are,” she agrees, “I just have to do you first.”

Well, maybe your night won't end as bad as you thought it would.

[flamingpudding]

I am keeping him B

A/N: Stress late night writing, while I am supposed to sleep cause I still got work tomorrow but screw my life...

It all started with the disappearance of Box Ghost, followed by Spectra. Back then, Danny didn't realize what was happening, and he still blamed himself for that. What a fine bridge of balance he was....

The next to disappear had been Elli and Danny had mobilize whatever he could to organize a search party when he lost contact. After Elli, Ember was next. Maybe by then Danny should be realized.

Dan was the next in line of disappearances. Vlad was the one making Danny aware of it. Everything Danny had mobilized in his search for Elli was extended to find Dan now, too.

Shortly after Dan, Vlad also disappeared from the face of earth. If he hadn't already be worried Danny would have been now. His events tripled, sleepless nights followed, days in which Jazz practically had to force him to sleep.

One by one all the Ghosts Danny knew disappeared. Maybe he would have realized it sooner if he had paid more attention to certain things, to the news to politics, to anything really. Maybe then Danny would be noticed the appearance of Dalv.Co and his parents invention on the black market. The sudden spike in Meta traficing following or the sudden interest in Ecto-entities.

But he hadn't...

...and that probably what was what costed him too.

Because, one day, he woke up in a dark cell, still in his Phantom transformation but with a collar around his neck. It zapped him any time he touched it or tried to let go of his ghost form. It was like a reverse of the stupid taser Vlad had. There were no mirrors or anything he could use to see himself with, but he had a feeling that collar used Fenton tech. He also realized that he was in a more eldrich kind of transformation. His hands that usually were in white gloves when in phantom form were clawed and inky black with sparks that reminded Danny of the night sky's above Amity Park. He couldn't tell if he looked anything like himself or not, but judging by his hands, probably not.

That day, when Danny woke up in that cell, he realized the reason behind the disappearances of his family and ghost rogues. Just like there was a spike in Meta trafficking, the growing interest had also developed into Ecto-Entity trafficking and worse was, they weren't even protected by law. The Anti-Ecto Acts are making it not even a real or all too big of a crime.

Months passed, and Danny learned to shut his mouth and emotions out. He thought he was even in a state disassociation, Jazz would have been proud of him for his self diagnosis, maybe. With the passing days, Danny stopped remembering who owned him and who he was forced to fight. Sometimes, his eyes came to live when he met one of his old friends in the battle rings. Tho their fights were no longer a form or bonding, it still felt nice to sometimes feel the heat of Ember's flames, the sting of Skulkers blasters or even see a box get thrown at him.

Of course, he had tried to escape or save at least one of the others before, but whoever modified his parents' inventions knew what they were doing. All his attempts were met with failure.

But then the day everything changed came. Danny didn't know how long it had been, all he knew was that a stupid clown was his current holder. The guy spouted some nonsense or wanting to see how a bat, of all animals held himself against one of the strongest ecto-entiies. Danny really wanted to refuse, yell at that fruitloop of a clown and be done with the World.

But what he didn't expect to happen that day was the shock of electricity, the ricochet of a bullet, the crack of metal... and the collar falling of his neck.

Suddenly, Danny no longer felt like he was trapped in his own body, like he was just an onlooker, but at the same time, he had never felt this tired before. He stumbled forward his body losing whatever momentum he had before. It was a single arm that saved him from faceplanting.

"Fuck! That thing was actually a kid!"

"What?!"

"I am going to fucking murder the clown."

Danny blinked slowly as he felt his awareness sliding from him, yet he still couldn't help muttering at least something before the world would go dark. "Get in line, I really hate clowns, and he is the nightmare realm fodder."

Danny felt the arm holding him shaking, and he really wanted to close his eyes and sleep, but right before he did, in fact, black out from pure exhaustion, he heard one last thing. "I don't give a fuck, B. I like this kid so I am keeping him."

[utterlyazriel]

whom the shadows sing for — (and the thief's echoing hymn)

a/n: annnd we've made it to velaris ! yippee !! now it's time for all the introductions >:D i hope you enjoy pls let me know what you think angels <3 ok mwah bye

word count: 3.5k

synopsis: You wake up somewhere entirely new, a long, long way from your home.

CHAPTER EIGHT :: STRANGERS (AGAIN)

The air all around you is sickly sweet.

Maybe... sweet is the wrong word. The air is clean; perfumed with an allure of scents you've never smelt before, heady and swirling, sweet and sterile all in one.

But more importantly, it is utterly foreign.

You're in unknown territory. Age old instinct has you shifting the moment you wake, surging up in a rush before your memory can catch up and remind you why that's an terribly bad idea.

The sheets rustle as you push yourself up into a sitting position, a heavy dose of panic already poisoning your system. It doesn't take long for the pain to follow.

You falter in your movement as an aching agony ricochets through your body, forcing out a wince. Your eyes screw up in pain. Your entire body feels like a bruise, punishing you with every movement.

You allow yourself only a moment of pause before you force them back open to take on the new threat, every sense filtering in unknown information as they sluggishly come to life. You have to blink rapidly to clear your vision, light coming in from all angles.

Why does it feel as though you've been asleep for years?

Where are you?

A room. You're not outside which is where you memory places you last. The extent of the memory drifts back as you search the room, your eyes climbing the walls, ravenous for details. They're made of some kind of warm coloured stone that covers the whole ceiling, you realise, as you follow the line of it up.

You screw your eyes up again and blink hard when you open them again. Every sense keeps pinging for your attention, a thousand things unfamiliar. The bed beneath is too soft, the sound of the wind outside isn't a whistle, the clothes on your back...

You startle, stumbling off the bed you've awoken on as you peer down at yourself, eyes moving about wildly. You're wearing... something completely new.

Frowning down at your arm, you raise one of your hands and pinch at the new fabric that covers the expanse of your arms. It's soft. So soft.

You tentatively smooth your hands down the tunic you're clothed in, all the way down to your pants. Each thing is finely made, with details far smaller that you would ever consider, and soft. Warm but sturdy.

What the fuck? Your chest starts to heave as panic truly sets in, your breath just out of reach before you can catch it. You gasp, grasping at your chest tightly, the new clothes scrunching up beneath your fingers. Memories begin to trickle back in as your mind scours for any information about how you ended up here.

You had been... cold. It was raining.

And your wings had been—your wings—your brain trips over the thoughts as every detail bleeds back in, sudden and frightening.

Stakes driven through the flesh of them, your wings pulled taut, stretched out for lashings and prepped for removal. Your terror climbs, its cloying grip tightening around your sternum like a fist.

Eyes screwed closed, you pray to every deity you can imagine, begging the Mother for this one thing.

You twitch the familiar muscle and feel the weight of your wings as they respond. There's no describing the relief that bursts within you, overwhelming your panic in an instant, your knees nearly buckling beneath you. They're still moving, still stretching out as you command them, still yours.

You stand there and peer over your shoulder, stretching your wings out as far as you can—cringing when they stop before full extension, buckling and bunching up at the violent spike of pain that ripples through them. It echoes through your body, making you hunch forward and grit your teeth. Your left eardrum wails extra loud.

What had happened? What had changed?

You could recall the finality of being down on your knees in the pouring rain, your hands are bound as your fate. Endless agony. The secret you couldn't keep, despite all you had tried.

You had been resigned to it—to dying there amongst in the dirt from where you had come from.

So, what changed?

Behind you, there's an abrupt noise from behind a door in the room, a rustling that makes your head snap around to face it.

Someone’s coming.

You stumble back a couple steps, dread mounting in your chest and your panic returns in full-force. You don't know where you are, you don't know how you got here, you don't know who is coming through that door.

You know that you have a lot more foes than you do friends.

Eyes darting around the room frantically, you spot a balcony down a small hallway and don't waste a single second.

As you begin to stride, you realise faintly that you're without shoes, feet bare on the cool marble floor. It turns to carpet beneath you as your fast strides transforms to a run, hearing the door open somewhere behind you.

It feels like a trap. Not the nice clothes or the fancy room would be enough to fool you. You're caught in a sickly sweet trap of honey and the net is being reined in, the ropes closing up on every side of you. It feels like you're being chased.

Heart in your throat and pulse rabbiting wildly, you burst through the doors of the balcony, daring a glance behind you without thought—

—and you nearly plunge off the edge of a mountain.

The gasp that escapes your throat is entirely involuntary, your fingers gripping the edge of the stone railing the adorns the balcony.

Your balance tips momentarily, the momentum of your dash nearly pulling you over. Terror freezes you. You're fairly certain with the state of your wings, it would be a short flight and an almost guaranteed casualty.

But a wind blows gently against your face, as though helping push you back to safety.

When you're sure you're not going to topple over the edge, some of your crippling panic eases. Your breaths, short and fast, begin to slow.

Your eyes travel up from the daunting height of the mountain side and widen, all the air in your lungs stolen in pure surprise.

Because before you, stretching out across the land that meets the sea, is something you've never seen before.

It's... a city.

A city that sits amongst the rolling, steep hills of the terrain and curls around a meandering river that leads out to the ocean. Tall, jagged mountains surround it from all sides, their hills steep up the top until they give way to gentler slopes, eventually becoming paved roads and streets for magnificent buildings.

The structures gleam, even from afar, made with precision and beauty in mind. Some are white marble or warm sandstone, others the same red stone of the mountains beside the one you're standing on. Small, quaint houses with green copper roofs, their white chimneys smoking softly.

Your breath stutters out in an exhale and you don't dare blink.

A city—a sprawling, wondrous city that was bursting with people, with colour, with life. So utterly unlike the chilled gray-scale of the Illyrian Mountains.

In fact, you wonder briefly if this was even the Night Court at all. This— this incredible sight felt like something you'd imagined of Summer or Spring, imbued with warmth, a place where things could grow and thrive.

The Night Court was... foul. It was the biting frigid cold of the wintry mountains or the shudder-inducing darkness of the court that lay beneath the mountain. This... where is this?

As though you've spoken your thoughts aloud, a voice answers from behind you.

"Velaris."

You start, whipping around fast enough to reawaken all your wounds, forcing you to stifle a pained noise that leaps up your throat. Your heart thunders as your eyes lay upon an unfamiliar figure, stepping out from the empty hallway—a form cut from the very night itself.

Your hands grip the stone railing behind you and you're unsure whether it's to keep your knees from buckling in fear or from bolting off the edge, into uncertain skies.

He's unfamiliar to you, yes, but you have a feeling you know exactly who he is.

"You asked where this—" The male waves a casual hand to the city beyond the balcony before pocketing it, either unaware of your panic or uncaring. "—is. You're in Velaris."

He surveys you, his violet eyes glancing down at the strained way you clutch at the railing.

"I know you must have a thousand questions. We haven't been introduced. My name is Rhysand and I am—"

"I know who you are." You interrupt. There's a lilt of fear in your voice but you couldn't keep it out even if you tried. He's the fucking Highlord of the Night Court.

Which means—Azriel.

His name slams into you like a shooting star, glowing hotly and dripping through your ribcage with a fire warmer than you've ever known.

Azriel must be— he was the one- he's the reason you're still alive. It feels like you relive the relief of his appearance during the storm all over again, remembering that he came back for you.

You have no idea the cacophony of emotion you're giving off, shouting all your unguarded thoughts across the balcony.

Rhysand's cool expression doesn't falter at your disruption. He looks at ease, both hands in his pockets, like he's merely having a conversation with a friend.

"Then it's important for you to know," He continues. "that I mean you no harm."

Lying, lying, liar, LIAR—the thought festers from within you instinctively, only growing in its urgency. You and everyone else where you come from are well aware of the origins of your Highlord.

And while he's your ruler, he's first and foremost, an Illyrian male.

"Only half," Rhysand corrects.

You startle, sickly surprise at the fact he seems to be able to read your very thoughts.

Then he confirms it, by saying, "And I can."

"You can read my thoughts?" You echo, voice sounding so much meeker than you intend. You sound like a child—and you feel like one, feel like the same eight-year-old staring down at the scorched brown earth in Exordor. Old blood. The same dirt you had been forced to kneel upon that now makes you shudder at the fresh memory.

Rhysand's expression falters momentarily at your train of thought, a flash of hurt on his handsome face.

His eyebrows draw together, forming a sympathetic, troubled look. "I can teach you how to shield them, if you so wish."

You don't make a noise. You don't even dare to take a breath, your fingers still crushed around the railing.

Within you, some part of you knows what he's offering. What the very nature of his words implies. He voices it anyway.

"You're no prisoner here. You're free to—”

"Where's Azriel?" The question falls from your lips before you can even think to stop it. Fear hammers through your chest—Fae that make a habit of interrupting Highlord's often find their lives cut short.

But Rhysand gives no impression that he minds. All he does is step to the side, revealing the empty hallway out to the balcony.

Except it's not empty anymore.

There, standing back to hide in the shadows as he did best, is your Shadowsinger.

Reserved and holding back, clearly waiting for you to remember him, to make your call before he made himself known. Making sure you wanted to see him at all.

Azriel, all 6ft something of shadow and muscle, with his wings tucked politely behind him, takes one step out on to the balcony and towards you.

His hands stay at his sides and his hazel eyes watch you with a familiar intensity. Something deep within you unfurls at the sight of him.

It feels like the collision of a thousand stars rain down on you, their jagged, burning fragments pelting into your body.

It's as though the world had been falling out from underneath and then, seeing him before you—when Cauldron knows how long ago you had been resolutely convinced you were never ever going to see him again— suddenly your feet were grounded and the world was still.

You breathe out his name. Azriel sways forward, almost imperceptibly, as though the sound of his name on your lips was a siren call he was helpless to fight.

You don't know that you say it sweeter than he's ever heard it in all his centuries.

Like following an invisible tug, you don't even realise when you start moving, only that you're rushing towards him with an urgency you can't begin to comprehend. It's like he's calling to you and you can't bear to be this close to him and not press in closer.

His beautiful face, usually guarded, reveals a glimpse into his storm of emotions. Concern, care, and something that looks suspiciously like... longing.

Your brain catches up and your feet falter, bringing you to a stand still before him, chest heaving.

Reason starts to catch up to you, asking meanly about what exactly you meant to do, running up to him—you weren't raised with physical touch beyond violence. You and Azriel had barely touched beyond sparring and those quiet nights in your shelter, skin brushing as you passed something to the other.

In the end, it's not you that moves, it's Azriel.

He closes the distance between you with one single step and his strong arms sweep around your middle, pulling you into the tightest hug. Night-chilled mist and cedar swirl your senses.

Helpless to do anything else, with no desire to do anything but this, you melt.

Your weight slumps into Azriel and he takes it without question, your arms curling around his neck to hold him back just as tightly. The light around you shifts, his shadows frenzied as they kiss along your neck and arms, all checking for hurt they can ease. Your heart is torn between soaring and stopping altogether.

The world fades away as his head ducks down, pressing his face the crook of your neck. It's more touch than you've ever known. More safety, more kindness than you've ever dreamed of. You and Azriel seem to exist only in a cocoon of shadow and warmth, in each others arms.

"You're alright," Azriel murmurs, his breath against your neck. It sounds more like he's reassuring himself than telling you. He sounds devastatingly sincere when he says, "I'm so fucking glad you're alright."

"Thanks to you," You whisper back, not wanting to break the silence. "You—"

The words get caught in your throat and you know you need to see his face when you say this. Pulling back from the embrace, you clear your throat as Azriel straightens up. You miss the heat of his body almost instantly.

"I-I thought I was never going to see you again."

It looks as though your words pain Azriel, a flash of pain and shame crossing his expression. His voice, low and gravelly, holds a guilty tone you've never heard him use before.

"I never should have left."

You blink. That wasn't what you had expected him to say in the least. It was you who had lied, who had deceived him from the very beginning. He was— he had— this was what you got for letting anyone get close to you, you understood that.

You shake your head, pointedly ignoring how it makes your injuries throb. "I know why you did, Azriel. I can't imagine—"

Azriel's scarred hands clench into fists at his sides, anguish colouring his face.

"No." He shakes his head, his jaw clenched tightly. "You did nothing wrong. Nothing."

"Then why did you leave?" Your questions comes out with an edge this time, a biting fury as your emotions process what he's saying.

He says you did nothing wrong. He says he shouldn't have left you behind. It's a ugly mixture of hurt and anger that paints your insides as realisations churn to the surface.

Azriel steals a glance to the side, serving as a quick reminder that there was, indeed, someone else still out on the balcony with you. You glimpse at the Highlord as your anger begins to bubble but you can't bring yourself to care.

You had... trusted him— you had let him in, let him get closer to you than anyone ever had, and he had left. He left, he left, he left. He did exactly as you had feared and he was wrong for it.

The greatest secret of your life, exposed like a raw nerve, and he hadn't said a word as he deserted you.

Your heart warbles at the betrayal and you can't help but step back, putting distance between the two of you. It's such a far cry from the nearness of a moment ago.

And even though you know he wasn't responsible for the events that followed, in the haze of your upset, it's awfully easy to add it to his betrayal. As if in response, your wings flinch and shudder as a wave of agony passes through them. You wince, gritting your teeth and turning your gaze to the ground.

"I can leave to give you both some privacy," Rhysand cuts into the conversation, evidently answering Azriel's pointed glance in his direction. "However, I don't think it will be overtly helpful. She's shouting every thought so loudly, I think I'll be able to hear it from the other side of the house."

She. It's been so many years since anyone has used that in reference to you that it nearly winds you, your entire body giving a visible flinch.

It feels foreign. You can't quite tell how you feel about it; whether it's some lost part of yourself to reclaim or whether it's something you've outgrown altogether.

You don't get time to consider it further as, bustling as she walks, a fourth Fae steps out onto the balcony. She's an older female in appearance but certainly not in her sprightliness. Her eyes land on you and they lighten up, as though you're the one she's been searching for.

"You are supposed to be resting." She tsks, without much further explanation. Your heart sinks, already feeling as though you're in trouble. Rhysand, reading your abrupt switch from anger, jumps in to explain.

"Madja, here-" He gestures to the female with a polite smile- "is our resident healer. She's been taking care of you over these last couple days, helping to heal your wings."

A severe reminder of the sorry state that had been in not too long ago. Glancing over your shoulder, your eyes glaze over as they take in the dozens of scattered markings that litter your wings. Irreversible. Your glorious love, changed forever.

There's patches over the ends that you hadn't noticed before, covering where you know the stakes had been. You suddenly feel an immense rush of gratitude towards the stranger before you.

"Thank you," You say, your throat thick. You want to say it again, want to repeat it over and over til your lungs bleed because just once doesn't seem enough.

But Madja nods in a grave way, as though she knows your internal turmoil.

"You weren't supposed to be up and moving quite so soon," She says, this time with less disapproval in her voice.

She directs a more withering look towards Rhysand and Azriel, enough to surprise you. Perhaps, healers held a higher rank within the city than they did in the mountains? The whole scene looks like a mother scolding her naughty children, especially with how both males shrink beneath her glare.

"Anyhow, come now," She turns back to you and gives a gentle wave of her weathered hand, ushering you back inside. "You'll need at least a days rest before you should be back on your feet."

You amble in her direction, too fearful to glance back at the Highlord and too conflicted to turn back to Azriel. You had broken his trust with your deceit but... he had broken your trust back.

He had abandoned you when you needed him most. But he had also turned up during your darkest hour and saved your life.

You weren't sure what you wanted to do more; hug him once more or throw a shoe at his head. Probably both would make you feel better.

From behind you, you swear you hear a faint chuckle of amusement.

—

When it's just the two of them on the balcony, Rhys turns to Azriel, ignoring his brother's unsubtle sullen demeanor.

"So," He grins. "Mates, then?"

Azriel casts a glance across the balcony, still rigid and unmoving from his spot. His shadows perk up at the word but Azriel gives no reaction beyond a twitch in his jaw muscle. Debating whether to respond at all.

Finally, he mutters, "How could you tell?"

Rhys tilts his head back, chuckling quietly, his mind cast back to an old, fond memory. His violet eyes slice back to his Azriel and he gives a little shrug. "A hunch, really. I think I might have enough to start a theory actually."

He wanders over and nudges Azriel with his shoulder, breaking him from his frozen spot and nodding for them to both head indoors. Rather reluctantly, the Shadowsinger falls into step. Side by side, Rhys gives him only a moment of quiet to stew in before he pipes up once more.

"Say— how much do you remember Cassian and Nesta's first meeting? Any flying projectiles?"

tags below!

@strangerstilinski @janebirkln @itsswritten @mischiefmanagers @hnyclover

@waytoomanyteenagefeels @idkitsem @illyrianbitch @jeweline16 @fightmedraco

@iamjimintrash @maendering @spideytingley @aneekapaneeka @cassianswh0reeee

@viciane @astarlitsoul @mybestfriendmademe @archiveofcravings @reputaytionn-13

@bionic-donut @chessebookgirl @itseightbeats @littleblackcatinwonderland @twsssmlmaa

@fanworrior @skysayhi @vintageoldfashion @tequilya @fabulouslyflamboyant5

@rhysandorian @laughterafter @brieftriumphnightmare @hirah-yummar @some-person-somewhere

@scooobies @sfhsgrad-blog @cherry-cin @bookloverandalsocats @megscabinetofcurios

@doodlebugsblog @landofpetrichor @acourtofdreamsandshadows @florabelll @tanyaherondale

@aomi-recs @letmejustreadthanks @problemfinder @sevikas-whore @doodlebugg16-blog

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@coffeebeforewater @kalulakunundrum @marina468 @moonbirde @yellow-birdy @sheblogs

@shinyghosteclipse @randombibitch @itsjustwinter @emryb @books-all-the-way13

[ghostlywhiskey]

price x pregnant reader !!!!!! IM FERAL FOR THIS TROPE

price x pregnant!reader, dad!price, etc. i eat it all up. it's literally his fucking trope. he owns it. ceo if you will.

when you're pregnant with your first kid with john, he becomes the most protective man on this planet. and not that he isn't already with you, but it's like watching an animal ready to pounce on whatever is threatening them - except with price, he sees everyone as a threat to you when you're pregnant.

price who has his arm snaked around your back, palm spread against the side of your growing stomach whenever you two are at a family or work event. the way he watches you as you speak briefly before his eyes are on everyone else who has their line of vision directed towards you. when you say you're gonna grab something to drink or eat, he nods in agreement but never lets you go alone. he's always right next to you, the hand slipping away from your waist to hold your hand instead as you walk.

when the two of you started working on getting the nursery together, the first thing he did - besides painting most of it while you slept one night because he didn't want you around the fumes of the paint. regardless if it wasn't harmful with out without a mask. he only let you in briefly to paint the last stroke of color needed so you could have the finishing touch. but again, besides painting, the first thing he did was get a rocking chair to place in the corner of the room. that way, you could sit and watch him build the various items needed, hang up decor you bought, etc. he didn't want you doing any physical work. only letting you tighten screws a few times after you pouted because you wanted to help.

and even though your not even halfway pregnant with the first, it is price who has his arms wrapped around you while you're getting ready in the morning or at night for bed. price who is mumbling against you're neck how he can't wait to see you pregnant at least three more times. telling you how beautiful you look with your growing belly as his palms gently rub from the side of your waist to the middle of your stomach, and continues to do so back and forth. going on about how you're the only woman who could ever carry his babies.

price who cursing in his office when they tell him he has to go on a mission, the thought of leaving you as you get closer to the due date spiking anxiety in him for the first time in his life. and when the call ends, its you who doesn't knock on the office door, but just opening it slowly as you walk in to see price pacing around the room. your hands that reach up and grab his face to look at you - reassuring him you'll be fine and you're still a decent time away from your due date. telling him you'll stay at your parents house while he's away so you aren't alone - because you'd never make him choose between his job and you. and he keeps asking if you are sure if he leaves each and every day up until it is time for him to go. your pregnant frame in the doorway of your home, nodding as you place a hand on your stomach and rub it. "we'll be here when you're back" is all you can get out before he's kissing you.

[whispereons]

Oracle!Reader Part 17

Masterlist - Part 1, Part 16, Part 18

PSA: I'm going to go through my followers and report + block porn bots. Porn bots look like users who have nothing posted. So if you don't want to be blocked please put at least one post saying that you are human.

Warning! This has your good old violence! This is a SAGAU imposter au so this to be expected.

The ice in your calves throbbed as spikes of pain fried the nerves every time you shifted into a better position. That's not even counting how the arrow in your chest jostled and wedged deeper into your skin.

"Let's start with some easy questions, yeah? Like your name, date of birth, and occupation."

You wished Yelan would just ask the important questions only. It would make your life so much easier. Who knows what information you could give her here that unknowingly connects to what they know about the 'Creator'.

Yelan's expression turns neutral before she steps closer. Your body tenses in preparation before she grabs your hair to pull your head up. Hissing in pain, you glare at her with animosity.

"Don't overestimate your body, Y/N." She drawl's as if speaking to a child. "I could just remove this pretty little mask and bring you back to Liyue for those with... more experience to handle."

Was it a natural thing for Hydro users to threaten you with torture? The thought makes you wanna laugh but you gasp in pain instead as she releases your hair harshly.

You didn't have time to be a smartass. Your mask being removed was the worst thing that could happen. The only question was, should you admit to being an Oracle or not?

"My name, as you already know, is Y/N. I don't have a last name, or maybe I do and I don't remember it. Same situation with my birthday, I just celebrate it whenever I feel like it."

Genshin always sends you a gift in the mail when it's your birthday. It's a good guess that everyone knows your birthday, having the same birthday would be suspicious. What if it's like your face in which no one else can share the same birthday with you? Far-fetched but better safe than sorry.

"I'm an adventurer who signed up a few days ago. I have my handbook and commission list to prove it if you want to check."

There was a chance she knew about your Oracle job from when you had to stay at the Teahouse, but you won't offer that bit of information unless she specifically asks for it. Far too many of your own victims on Earth screwed themselves over when they revealed things only to learn you were shooting in the dark.

"Quite the convenient story. No last name or set date of birth means you must be from one of the villages. Name it."

Yelan gets comfortable resting against a tree as Shenhe stands close to you with a cold glare. The questions were still easy but you didn't want to be stuck here any longer. You needed an escape.

"I was born in Inazuma, one of the less-tamed islands called Kannzaku. But after the recent war, all the people that were still living either died or left. I chose to leave as well."

Yelan hums at that, you aren't sure if she truly believes it or if she's just making a mental note to look into it later.

"Then how did you manage to catch the Alcor of all ships to bring you here? They aren't one to take passengers along easily."

Has she been watching that early on or did she trace your path that far back? If so, she may even gain information about your time in Inazuma. Best to keep everything aligned with the most public knowledge.

"The Yashiro Commission helped me find a ship. I don't see how my upbringing in Inazuma has to do with whatever reason you have for attacking me."

Flexing your feet, you try to adapt to the pain. Yelan nor Shenhe were going to let you go even if you did answer everything correctly. That was a fact just based on how much trouble you gave them.

Yelan keeps a watchful eye on you as she stays silent. You know this tactic, you've used it before. Staying silent to make your hostage squirm and anger till they burst. That, or slowly die in place from any wounds.

This wasn't a problem for you. Every second you stood there in silence was just more and more time for you to get used to the pain. The arrow was too deep to remove, you would bleed out and become weaker so it'll have to stay stuck inside your skin.

Yelan and you could have gone all day, but Shenhe wasn't nearly as patient or stubborn.

"Ask your question and finish your job already, Yelan. If you take any longer then I'll just exterminate them." Shenhe moves to stand directly in front of you with her weapon raised.

She points it directly at Yelan. "And if you try to stop me, I'll kill you too."

Seems they aren't as in sync as you originally thought. 

Yelan sighs and moves from her spot. It seems even she knows better than to trifle with the bomb in the shape of a crane. The grass crunches beneath Yelan's heels as the trinkets on her jingle. 

Lifelines wrap around your wrists and waist and she pulls you forward. Nails dig into your skin through her gloves making you bite your tongue in slight pain. The pretty azure color is coated with crimson as emerald eyes stare into your soul.

"What's giving you the confidence to claim to be the Creator's oracle? If you don't repent and shed this flimsy mask, the Qixing will have you sacrificed in the city's center."

Your heart stops at those words as flashes of the sacrifices you witnessed in Inazuma come to mind. Taking off your mask would get you killed, but not taking it off would also get you killed. Torn between laughing and crying, you hated the fact that once again you were stuck in a ‘damned if you do, damned if you don’t’ situation.

Frowning at the strange expression on your face and the lack of confession, Yelan sighs with frustration and even a bit of hatred. “Not willing to speak even now, huh? Then my job is nearly done. Ningguang can deal with you instead, I’ll just reap my share of the rewards after you die.”

Patting your now bloody cheek condescendingly, she turns away from you. Her lips can be seen moving from her side profile but you could care less about what she's saying.

All you can focus on is the feeling of being talked down to. Being treated like a child, being treated like an idiot. The inner lining of your cheek begins to ache from how hard you're biting on it. 

Specific personas you've created and used in your work would include ditzy and dumb acts. The patronizing tone they would speak to you with was annoying but tolerable. But this? This?!

Lips curled into a snarl, you look up at the woman with a boiling glare matching your equally hot temper. Yelan's features seem to continuously morph and switch with a man who would speak to you in that exact same demeaning way.

"Where the hell do you get off speaking to me like this?" 

Yelan shuts her mouth but doesn't move her snobbish eyes off your form. Shenhe holds her polearm tighter as she keeps her eyes on you. Well aware of just how stupid, rash, and careless your next actions are, your brain tries to calm down.

But the moment you lift your bloody chin to look up, all you can see is condescending eyes taunting you.

"What the fuck is giving YOU the confidence to indirectly call yourself extraordinary by calling your deceased teammates 'ordinary folk'?! You only got to your position from the charity and sacrifices of other people!"

Breathing heavily from the anger and strain from yelling, you wipe the blood on your chin away. You were giving it your all to survive and weasel your way out of this situation. That's what you have done all throughout your time in Teyvat.

It wasn't fair, it wasn't right, it shouldn't be possible that all your efforts would be for naught from just one person. Everything you've worked at all this time, gone, just because Yelan and Ningguang couldn't mind their own fucking business.

"You can inflate your ego all you want with clever schemes and working solo but that doesn't take away from the fact that you would be dead without everyone around you. Your ancestry of heroes, Ningguang's patience and willingness to wait for you to train and move on from your friend. Even the lessons you learned on how you aren't invincible didn't seem to click until you lost your whole team!"

Grinning widely with malice and blood staining your teeth and lips crimson, you finished your jab. "You know? The same team you basically disowned and dissociated yourself from after they died. After all, you’d rather isolate yourself instead of properly acknowledging your team's talent and appreciate the life they lived no matter how short!"

Your mouth felt dry and all you could taste was copper. The shards in your calves were slowly melting making your legs. A vast contrast to the burning anger you harbored. But it seems you aren't the only one feeling this way.

Yelan hasn't moved from her spot but the look she has on her face is clear as day. Her neutral and taunting smile has dissolved into a murderous expression. Viridian eyes sharpen almost like an arrow and gritted teeth grind together. Your blood stains her blue gloves much like how you successfully stained her invincible reputation.

As good as it felt to get back at her, the slightest bit of guilt plagued you. That blow concerning her teammates was low, even if it was true. It's a bitter truth that she probably still struggles with. Living knowing that someone had to be sacrificed for your life pushed you to the brink more than once. Even still, you can't find it in yourself to take back those words, to apologize.

After all, you could never disregard the help and place your dad had in your life even with his early death.

The Hydro vision on Yelan's side glows as she takes long strides to your trapped form. No longer summoning her bow with flair, she points it at you. Bracing yourself with bent knees, you flex your fingers preparing to summon your sickle and escape the disadvantageous position.

"GRAH!"

A huge leaping rocky creature almost flattens Yelan who swiftly dodges by jumping backward.

"GRAW!" What you can now identify as a Geovishap roars loudly and slams his hulking fist onto the ground. The impact sends Yelan flying through the air and the ice trapping your feet shatters.

Not even allowed a second to enjoy your newfound freedom, Shenhe lunges either polearm poised at the ready. Grinning, your sickle clashes with her weapon as you shift to a more comfortable position.

Fighting both women would be impossible for you, they've trained for years. But it was still within your limits to defend and escape from one. Thanks to the Geovishap, you now have been granted that possibility.

The lingering shards of ice in your calves keep the blood somewhat clogged but the blood dribbling out down your ankle is uncomfortable. Ignoring it to the best of your abilities, you dig your shoes into the ground as your sickle repeatedly blocks her attacks.

The spear's minor side curve gets hooked onto your sickle leading to a stand-off. Planting your feet deeper into the ground, you focus on pushing against Shenhe as she does the same. Your arm strains with the force needed as Shenhe's full power begins to overpower you.

Not that you weren't expecting that.

Shenhe fought a god as a child and would have won if Cloud Retainer hadn't cut it short. She grew up in these mountains fighting, training, and eating whatever she was given. Cloud Retainer didn't raise a child, she groomed a soldier.

Your wounds ache as your body is pushed back. Inhuman strength wasn't something you ever encountered on Earth. This wasn't the city where you could pull a dirty trick and get away. Wasn't there anything else you could do?

Perhaps it was the determination you felt to stand your ground. Or maybe it was the desperation you felt to escape and live. You couldn't be completely sure as power mingled with your flesh, giving you a burst of energy.

The air grows cold and the ground shakes beneath your feet. The Electro wrapping around your sickle crackles louder, nearly masking the creaking of the ground. Geo petrifies the ground as it travels from your feet to hers.

A dark umber-colored stone traps her feet with cracks of topaz. Shenhe frowns and tries to rip her feet out but is stunned when it doesn't work. The petrify only moves to consume her body faster.

Knowing that you must be the only reason for the Geo, you take advantage of the newfound power. Breaking the grapple, you move out of her polearms range. Her braids loosen as she tries to lunge at you even with her torso completely petrified.

In some last-ditch effort to kill you, Shenhe holds her polearm in one hand and prepares to throw it at you. Not a moment sooner, the petrify entraps that hand locking it in place.

"Don't run away, demon!" Shenhe shouts in fury as her braid loosens. Her face is permanently etched as a harsh scowl and furrowed brows when the Geo overcomes her completely.

Not wanting to waste the precious and limited time you have, you turn on your heels and run away. In a split decision, you run to the left, the same direction where you first met Shenhe at that hilichurl camp.

Greenery and foliage are trampled on as you push past the burning pain. You pass the threshold of the stone and a large thud catches your attention from behind you.

Curious, you look back to see the Geovishap be pierced by Hydro projectiles. The blood and water splatter and mix on the ground as the Geovishap collapses. A weak gurgle of a roar is all that could be heard.

Glazed eyes holding no consciousness, no life, stare at your wide, sympathetic ones before crumbling into dust. A different pair of wrathful green eyes stare back at you instead.

There's no time to teleport. You couldn't fight in this state. Running was your sole option and your body moved on its own.

The river water dampens your shoes as you run, and the moonlight filters through the leaves of the trees above you. Slimes peer at you curiously as you avoid running into them. 

The only thing you could properly focus on was not tripping and not getting hit by the arrows raining down on you.

Between your honed instincts and Teyvat’s warnings, you manage to dodge the vast majority. Yelan wasn't in the position she is today without mastering her archery.

Pain and most likely a bruise bloom when her Hydro-infused arrow hits your shoulder. It's not deep so you quickly pull it out before it gets lodged like the one in your chest.

The chase is intense as your ragged breaths nearly mask the sound of her heels following you. More arrows cut your clothes and graze your skin. 

The sight of the red staining the cloth makes bitterness spread and fester deep within you.

Just why couldn't you bleed gold?

Now in Nantianmen, you pass by the hilichurl camp where you met Shenhe in. You must be getting closer to the ruins, maybe you could lose Yelan in the twists and turns of the rundown ruins.

But that plan quickly is thrown out the window when the only exit is a large drop-off, small broken ruins with broken ruin pieces serving as platforms on the large river. Treasure hoarders roam that area from what you remember.

To your right is a large mountain, climbable but no doubt time-consuming. On the left is where the ledge is. The only thing in front of you is a path leading to a boss, that you can’t be certain would recognize you or not. And above it would just be another cliff only serving to prolong the chase. 

Faced with the choice, the shallow water washes the crusting blood off your legs. Climb the mountain and be shot down by Yelan, or glide off the edge into Tianqiu Valley and be shot down by Yelan or the treasure hoarders.

Aren’t you spoiled for choice? 

That sarcastic thought is quickly swept away as you narrowly avoid an arrow that hits the water. Only sparing a glance behind you, you move to the side avoiding the follow-up arrow. The click of Yelan’s heels is replaced with the sloshing of water as she runs after you.

She dodges the Cryo that a large Cryo slime shoots at her as you back away with urgency. Before you can make a panicked split decision, a new Geovishap tackles her right into the Cryo slime.

The combo of being frozen and shattered seems to knock the wind out of Yelan as she falls onto the ground and slowly rises to her feet. The Cryo slimes, now with the addition of another that popped up out of nowhere and this new Geovishap, form a circle around Yelan.

The circle is tight and her soaked form only hinders her further. The wounds and bruises she sustained from the previous Geovishap are still visible. 

You recognize this as an opportunity to escape.

The sound of Yelan’s grunts and groans of pain as she’s thrown around out of sight are washed away as you pull the game screen up. It loads slowly but you aren’t too worried, Yelan is spent after chasing you and fighting so much today. 

Once the map is loaded, you quickly swipe to the statue of the seven. Selecting it you press the teleport button and wait. You wait with bated breath and expectant eyes to finally be free of this whole battle. Yet, as the screen stays the same and a whole minute passes by with no response, your heart pounds with fear.

Trying to deny the worst possibility you press the teleport button again. You press it again and again and again with no results. The sounds of the Cryo slimes being splattered onto the ground make you suck in a harsh breath.

In one last desperate attempt, you close the game screen and open it again. Repeating the same actions before with no difference in the result.

It’s refusing to work.

That revelation fills you with a mix of dread and a manic mess of anger combined with sadness. A disbelieving laugh escapes your mouth in a low tone before you sprint towards the closest escape option. There’s no more time to waste, the petrify is going or already has worn off and Yelan won’t be occupied with that Geovishap forever.

Your scratched-up and coarse fingers haphazardly grasp the grooves of the mountain to climb as fast as possible. It’s painful to put your body weight onto your legs but it must be done. That pain is almost completely blinded by the agonizing burn of when the arrow in your chest is pushed further in whenever you accidentally scrape the wall.

The air becomes thinner as you climb to the halfway point, your digits grasp onto the next protruding rock and it’s too late when you realize that it’s too loose. The rock slips out, hitting your face and temporarily blinding you as your other grip becomes weaker.

Dangerously swaying backward, you stop breathing and scramble to hold on to something. When your cut-up fingers finally grasp something more stable, your face hits the rock and it makes the blood from the wounds Yelan’s nails left leave a splotch.

Pain and sharp aches rack your body but you grit your teeth and continue climbing. The mountain seems to almost vibrate and you look down to see Yelan be smashed onto the wall. A thrilling chill of happiness runs down your spine at the sight of Yelan getting pummelled. You can only hope it scars her the way her injuries most likely will scar you.

The struggle is finally over as your fingers dig into the grass at the top and haul yourself over the ledge. Crawling with the last bit of your strength, you lay on your back and breathe in as much of the thin air as you can. Sharp and burning pain electrifies your nerves as you stare up at the night sky.

Just how shitty was your luck to end up like this?

Gingerly touching your head as the world briefly spins, you open the game screen. Maybe, just maybe it will work now that you are away from the battle. Perhaps it didn’t let you teleport in some stupid rule of ‘no teleporting when enemies are nearby’ or ‘you can’t teleport in battle’. You are well aware that Genshin never had that rule but you wanted to hold onto some hope.

Of course, it doesn’t work. Hope at the end of the day is just that. But being away from a life-or-death situation at least brings back some clarity of mind. You select a different teleport waypoint and try to teleport. It doesn’t work, and after trying nearly all of the waypoints you close the screen and groan in frustration.

You close your eyes and just try to breathe, to relax your heart that just won’t stop beating frantically. It becomes suspicious when your blood runs cold and your stomach churns in a familiar feeling of danger. With anxiety-fueled fear, you roll your aching body a few feet away as the wind caresses your skin trying to help you.

Dirt and grime cling onto your clothes and make your open wounds itch as it enters your body. But your attention is pulled away by a polearm piercing the spot you were lying at just a moment ago. Frantic yet oh so tired, you pull yourself onto your sore feet and stare warily as the cloud of dirt dispenses.

As much as you dared to dream that maybe it was Xiao, the long white hair and crane-patterned sleeves aren’t surprising. Disappointing nonetheless though.

Shenhe grips her weapon tightly as she stays in place, the rock she struck in pieces beneath her. You can already imagine what kind of damage she would have done if you didn’t move away in time. She doesn’t lift her head as she mumbles something.

Not willing to move closer but also too cautious to move away in fear of triggering her, you stand in place. Her head lifts up to let iridescent eyes glare at your beat-up and bleeding body. “I hate you.” She mutters as strands of hair droop to frame her face.

“I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, I hate-” She mutters endlessly from her position as you begin to take slow steps backward. The red rope tying her hair is already gone and the ones on her clothing are close to slipping. Most of them are ripped and gone anyway.

Shenhe harshly rips the last of the red rope off and gracefully twirls her polearm into the correct position with a look cold enough to freeze your blood. Actually, that’s just the frost creeping from her feet…

“I hate you!”  Shenhe’s yell is swift and her weapon is merciless as her attack pattern changes from the elegant crane style to one more comparable to a raging bull. You hurriedly summon your sickle in the nick of time.

Your hands are shaky from the exhaustion weighing down on your body. Combining that with Shenhe’s erratic wrath attacks makes your movements clumsy.

Each narrowly raised block and shaking deflection eat away at the little energy you have left. 

It's not enough. 

That fact becomes more and more obvious as your grip on the sickle gets weaker. What other fate awaited you when being hunted down by Shenhe who has fought and trained nearly all her life?

The past battles you've been through are viewed in a new light. Your first fight with those treasure hoarders led you to rely more on your wit than skill. The first Fatui encounter with Heizou had you more as a support than an attacker. Beisht wasn’t even attacking you and you struggled against the elements more than anything else on Beidou’s ship. After taking the commission to save Yiran from the kidnappers, you teamed up with Xingqiu and Chongyun for every battle after that.

Even afterward when you were forcibly separated and Cloud Retainer strangled you, it was the other Adepti that pulled her off. The only battles after that were your hit-and-runs with Yelan and Shenhe. Have you ever actually fought and won on your own since that first scuffle with the treasure hoarders? They even ran away after you threatened them without touching them!

The realization of your less-than-stellar fighting capacity makes your movements sloppier, your body feels heavy with the weight of your journey. All the injuries you sustained, even the ones already healed, seem to chip away at your resolve.

You were tired. You’ve been tired for a long time. It would be accurate to say that you were tired of being tired.

Shenhe’s emotions bleed through her fighting style, the wrath she’s consumed by makes her attacks rough but misaligned. Slices that should have cut deep into your shoulder or slashes across your unguarded areas miss their mark. Each one only makes her more aggravated leading to even sloppier motions.

A terrible cycle that was helping you out enough that you use your new Geo power to petrify her feet. But Shenhe has already experienced this, her spear is waved erratically around her keeping you away. 

This rare chance of escape isn’t lost on you, turning on your heels you book it and narrowly avoid the polearm thrown your way. The graze makes the already scraped side bleed heavier, and the burning feeling of pain doesn’t subside.

Running across the greenery and leaving a trail of dotted red on the dark grass, you don’t bother trying to recall where you might be. There was never much of a reason to climb all the way up here as a player and you had no time to stop to observe the map.

The rocks, trees, and flowers blur in a shadowy hazy mess. You can’t be sure whether it's from all the blood you lost, the pain that plagues your body or the starless night sky. A single rock jutted out of the rock trips you and the pain blinds you as you lay on the ground.

Stumbling back onto your feet, you hold a nearby branch with a death grip as your body sways and your vision spins. This intense lightheadedness could only be from blood loss, one would think that it’s a shame how easily you can tell blood loss apart from any other injury it might be. 

The sound of water splashing catches your attention and you do your best to follow it quickly without any more falls. The toll of the adrenaline that was coursing through your veins is starting to settle and you know full well how nasty it can be. A small lake appears in your vision and you collapse onto your knees once close enough.

A group of Cryo slimes begin to make their way towards you from the middle of the lake, or maybe it was Hydro slimes? The wind is both sweet relief on your clammy skin and a rude reminder of your aching wounds. Crawling to the side where you can only hope that Shenhe won’t find you as easily, you let your bag fall off your shoulders.

The bag has holes but as it’s not a normal bag, nothing has fallen out. To your immense relief, of course, the medkit you pull out is your only hope of surviving just a little longer. The slimes gather around you curiously, even this close the only thing you can be sure of is their blue coloring.

Ignoring them, you apply the disinfectant, ointment, bandages, and anything else that might help you with your numerous injuries. Most of them were bandaged fine with you skipping the minor wounds to not waste your precious resources, but it was the major two damages that you couldn’t touch. 

The remainder of the ice spikes in your calves were slowly melting which, unfortunately, was only leading to more bleeding. The arrow in your chest already made breathing hurt like hell. There was no way you were gonna risk yanking either of the two out. With the bleeding slowed down, your body feels a bit better but the fatigue anchors you to your spot.  

Surrounded by the slimes and gently showered by the moonlight your head rests against the closest solid structure. Thoughts of what kind of disease, danger, and death you might experience are washed away. The rippling reflection of the moon on the lake lulls your mind into a haze. Eyelids fluttering shut, you can no longer resist the urge to just rest...

.

.

.

.

.

.

Oh boy, finally done and over with. It actually had more but I decided to cut it here and post the rest with the other parts next chapter. It may be shorter than this one. Or not, who knows. Thanks to my patient editor @serpent-benediction who edited this today. I hope everyone enjoyed the differences yet similarities between Y/N and Yelan. I did write this on Google Docs rather than on Tumblr so maybe the format is weird. Tell me if this one is too dense looking or any other opinion on it. Edit* Guess which dumbass forgot to add the read more option? Taglist - Remember those that are in italics are those who I couldn't tag! I appreciate all the comments and reblogs! Ya'll can be so funny and sweet at the same time. @vvyeislazzy, @nikqi, @the-dumber-scaramouche, @etherisy, @yourlocalstranger123, @ra404, @iruiji, @goldenglow149, @haru-tofuu, @lsleepysimpl, @bebobeboben, @yuyuzi-ling, @amidst-the-tempest, @resident-cryptid, @mxd1zzy, @mochicurls21, @nervouseaglelover, @thedevioussmirk, @yumuramma, @kwqsla, @undecidingfate, @ehjane, @game-savvy, @akiramirae, @liansh3ng, @fluffy-koalala, @formacoon, @sxftiebee, @khxii-i, @ursinaw, @chuuya-brainrot, @sweetbills, @kazuchaos, @snowfoxnix, @bluebelony, @shellofthewell, @pencil-of-ashes, @ghostlyintervention, @taiformaifoe, @goaudduck, @carminerin, @maddysflowers, @zenith-of-all-zenith, @crazydreamcat, @leafanonsforest, @grimreapersscythe, @leylanx, @sapphireknown, @help-whatdoimakemyusername, @zhonglisfruityass, @mer0n37, @victoria1676, @mochinessss, @sinnful-darling, @emilymikado, @pix-stuff, @esthelily, @luxie963, @emmbny, @millienolife @kbar1013, @xxblackroses623xx, @chxrlxtteee, @aludicpoet, @yandematic, @atrcclovsxoxo, @0lshadyl0, @esthelily, @t-rex-red, @ck123, @steadybreadbluebird, @118gremlin, @stratonia, @time-shardz, @farelady-fate, @valeriele3, @francisnyx, @byakuren100

[lazypanartist]

Hobie Brown x Artistic/DIY Reader

I love him 💙

pt 1 - Pt 2 - Pt 3 - Pt 4

Warnings: maybe spoilers for ATSV, IDK. Reader's in the punk scene and from Hobie's universe. Whole lotta projection. Canon-typical injuries

Features info dumping and personal Hobie HCs I guess. It's long ASF. And just self indulgent

Please RB, likes alone don't do anything for the algorithm!

-----

DIY/punk Hobie Brown

If you're in the scene, you know the basics

Patches?

Hand-Stitched

Usually with dental floss for durability/cost efficiency

And originally painted with white-out for the same reasons

Spikes or studs?

Cheap, bulk buy, screw em on yourself

Or just make em out of cans

Hobie's fit looks like it fits the bill

Old leather or denim jacket with the sleeves cut off

FN/SM painted on the back

Shirt's kinda tattered iirc

Spiked collars are easy

Same with the wristbands

When he meets you?

Whoo boy

It was one of his shows he was putting on

New songs, new faces in the crowd

He spots you from a distance at first

Little sketchbook in hand

You stay through his whole performance

When he's chatting up the crowd afterwards, though?

You're already gone

(Bitch writes a song about the pretty thing watching from afar, bc ofc he does)

He next sees you during one of President Osborne's speeches

Standing in the front row of a gathered crowd, shaking your head at the screen

He drops down after a few minutes, hanging upside down and blocking the less-than-pleasant view

He takes a few moments between questions from others

Little explanations

A promise to do what he can

Takes just a glimpse to look you over

You have a similar touch to the rest of the crowd

Worn out boots, tattered clothes, hand-sewn and painted patches

And your sketchbook still in hand

It's a little peculiar for the crowd

But he doesn't question it

What he does question is where you've gone after he turns to look at you

He only took a second for more reassurances

But when he goes to see you again

You're gone, just like the first time you caught his eye

He realizes then

That he's intrigued

He doesn't know what it is about you

Until he keeps seeing you pop up again

Riots

Concerts

Shows

Speeches

His immaterial object of interest

He finally starts actually talking to you the third or fourth time he sees you

At another of Osborne's liefests

An ambassador on a stage, surrounded by punks

Speaking of the President's virtues

Yeah

Spider-Punk shows up pretty quickly to run him off

And gets to chatting with you

When he first approaches, you ask for his opinion on a patch idea

And turn your sketchbook to show him the page

His spider symbol backpiece

But instead of FN/SM, it simply states

"Down With President Osborne"

He takes your pen and signs as a seal of approval before swinging away

Sure, it was a short interaction

But it led to even more meaningful ones

Like, say..

Him practically dropping out of the sky into a park

You were just minding your business, sketching the scenery

When he almost fell on top of you.

Covered in injuries

He laughs when he looks up and sees that it's you

Because of course it's you

Tries to resist when you start futzing over him

If you're the parent friend like me?

Patch him up

PLEASE

Even if you can't see him back together

Just

Bandaids and gauze pads

And maybe some candy

Bc suckers help with creativity

Or it's just my neurodivergence? Idk

Just. Offer him one in case he needs to bite on something while you're putting alcohol on his injuries

When you're done he looks them over

Promptly winces when he twists his arm 🙄

But then thanks you for your help and swings off

Again

These kinds of interactions become common

He'll find you hanging around the city

Either doodling or just vibing

And drops down to talk for a bit

Or get patched up

Loves when you offer to fix his costume

Bc it looks just as nice & homemade as the rest of your/his fits

Grins under his mask when he sees a new patch or two

And starts snickering if you deny their application

He really appreciates everything you do for him

And figures he should prove it

Sure, he's saved you

But he's saved a lot of people..

He wants this to be special

Unique

And he thinks he knows how to do that..

---

Click for next part

[bluecollarmcandtf]

Monkey Business

Thanks for the Ask, Fetifiction

I heard you've got a crush on your gym buddy. You said his name was Amir, right? I know you like his personality or whatever, but he's not exactly your type. Is he? So, I sent you some experimental protein powder. It's called Ape Mode. Slip some of that in his drink...I think you'll like what happens...

"Oh, hey dude," Amir gives a friendly nod, "I almost thought you weren't coming. Did that professor hold class after the bell again?"

"Yup!" your voice shakes as you answer.

It's a lie. You just spent the last twenty minutes trying to spike his sports drink in the locker room. It was hard enough to find the damn thing, but you had to make sure it was definitely his. Luckily, his gym bag is bright yellow. It's pretty hard to miss, so the half empty bottle sitting next to it had to be his.

"He's a real douchebag," your friend complains, "Come on. I just started stretching."

Nervously, you sit beside Amir and try to keep up with his stretches. He asks you about your day and wonders if you need to vent about school. You just shake your head. Amir's caring personality is the best thing about him, but it's also making you feel really guilty for lying to him. Hopefully, that powder doesn't screw him up!

Amir ends the warmup and climbs to his feet. You watch as your best friend walks over to the locker room and pulls out his drink: the one you spiked. For a brief moment, you feel a flash of regret and almost shout out for him to stop, but it's already too late. The moment has passed. Amir is gulping down the entire contents of his bottle. All you can do is stare at him and wait.

"You good, dude?" Amir asks, snapping you out of your daze.

"Yup! Totally...um... let's workout!"

Amir claps you on the back and heads over to a treadmill. The guy is always doing cardio, leaving him thin and nimble, but you'd rather he looked a different way. You want to see him big and brawny like the man of your dreams. Hopefully, by the end of this workout, he will.

It's hard to act normal, but you swallow your anxiety and walk over to a weight machine. It's in the perfect spot to keep an eye on Amir. You want to know as soon as the changes start happening. A small part of you still doubts whether or not Ape Mode will actually work.

30 minutes later...

"Dude, I don't know what's happening! I was just running on the treadmill like normal, but..." he glances down at his swollen arms in disbelief, "well look at me!"

"I don't know either," you tell him with your most convincing voice, "but you look great!"

Amir takes another look down at his biceps. They've easily expanded to twice the size they used to be, but that's not the only thing that's changed. You've been staring at him on the treadmill for the last half hour. His whole body seemed to expand! His thighs thickened and his shoulders broadened. You think he even got taller! Not to mention the dense layer of stubble that's sprouted all over Amir's face.

He hasn't seemed to notice it all yet, but every part of his body seems to have shifted in some way! Seeing your friend transform into your wet dream is a lot more stressful than you imagined. You might be hiding a raging boner, but you're still worried about what will happen when Amir looks in a mirror. What if he doesn't like the new him? You wonder for a second if you should just come clean and tell him about the powder.

Amir flexes his arm, staring at his bulging bicep with a worried look, "I don't know, dude. Should I be worried?"

You look into your friend's vulnerable eyes, "Nope! Let's just get back to our workout."

Amir nods and lowers his tense shoulders. He trusts your judgement and brushes off his concerns. You watch with a mixture of guilt and excitement as Amir saunters back to the treadmill. His ass has even filled out, too!

"Dude!" a deep voice moans behind you.

"Woah!" your jaw drops at the site of Amir. His voice has lowered several octaves to the point where you couldn't even recognize it. His appearance is just as drastically different. The big hairy man standing before you looks only vaguely like the friend you know and love.

"What, is it bad? I don't feel good..." Amir groans, "Buh-UUuurrrp!” A low gutteral belch voices out of his stomach.

You don't know how to react. His transformation is progressing wildly, and you're almost too turned on to comfort him!

"I was just running, but my steps just kept feeling heavier, and I was feeling itchy all over, and my shirt is pinching me, and..." he trails off as he scratches his gut absent-mindedly.

It looks like he's gained sixty pounds, so it's no wonder that his shirt is feeling tight! Some of that weight isnt muscle, either. Amir has a bit of a gut, now, and with his shirt soaked in sweat, you can see how hairy his new chest is. His entire body seems to be sprouting fur like he's some kind of animal!

"Don't worry about it," you say, grabbing Amir's hand in an effort to calm him down. You might as well commit to his transformation at this point! It's obviously working!

"But, I'm so fat and hairy," he grunts slowly, "And I can't move ten inches without sweating like a pig!" his stomach growls before his bubbling up his chest, "Buur…brrruUuUUUP!”

"Hey these changes are normal, big guy," you pat him on his big meaty back, "I like the new Amir."

Amir frowns and rips his hand away from yours. Before you know it, he's stomping back over to the treadmill with heavy steps that shake the floor. He seems to have a little less patience than he used to. Maybe he's just frustrated by all the changes?

"Amir can we go now?" you ask for the third time in a row, "You've been staring at yourself in that mirror for an hour now!"

He doesn't seem to hear you. Amir has packed on so much fat, muscle, and hair that he looks completely unrecognizable. He almost seems more like he's an animal than your old friend.

He's been watching the final touches of his transformation take place in his new form, only pausing to occasionally scratch his ass or sniff his pits. Of course, the entire gym is giving him angry looks. A cloud of strong BO is wafting off of him, and it doesn't help that he keeps burping and farting loud enough for everyone to hear. Amir seems totally oblivious to how uncomfortable he's making everyone, so you're left to feel all the social awkwardness.

"Amir, come on," you tenderly grab his hairy forearm.

"GrrrUH!" Amir growls and rips his arm away again.

You roll your eyes and shake your head. You wanted Amir to look like a hairy beast, not act like one! How the hell are you supposed to get him out of here, let alone fall in love with you? He's acting like a big stupid caveman!

Feeling defeated, you stumble over to the locker room. If your going to leave, you at least want something to cover the tent in your shorts. Amir's bright yellow backpack would never fit on his massive frame anymore. He probably couldn't even remember how to put it on. With a sigh, you pick the thing up hold it close to your waist.

"MmnNanna?" a curious grunt comes as you reenter the gym. Amir, the huge hairy beast is staring at the yellow backpack with hungry eyes. "Nanna," he growls more definitively.

"You want a banana?" you ask gingerly.

"Mmmmngh!" he nods emphatically, licking his lips.

This is yellow backpack must be your ticket to controlling him! "Follow me," you smile, finally understanding how this beast of a man.

With lumbering steps, Amir stumbles behind you. It's a good thing he's hot, because he's lost all the intelligence he'd had before. All you had to do was say the word banana and now he's following you out to the car, drooling the entire way. You can't help but chuckle at your gigantic friend following behind you like a big dumb animal.

In the car, you toss the yellow bag as far back as you can. All three hundred pounds of Amir jumps inside and you slam the door shut behind him. Now you just have to get the guy home with him getting too angry.

"BuuuUughHnnannNnaAH!" he bellows, beating his chest with wild fury.

"Ok, ok! I'll go buy a damn banana."

"Nnngh!" Amir clenches your wrist before you can get out of the car. "...nanna!" he grunts, staring at your crotch like it's his first meal in weeks.

"Oh," you gasp. You didn't know he meant that banana. Amir's transformation might not have been what you expected, but you couldn't deny that you were enjoying your new friend. This is going to be an interesting car ride...

[emptyjunior]

I'm rewatching Starstruck in the break, can I say I DESPERATELY would have loved to have seen this intergalactic chase across the stars from the Other Side😭

Like okay, campaign where you're a crew of kooky spacers on the run, classic, fun, oh the adventures we had.., can you Imagine what this story would have been like from the pursuers side? From Lucienne and UFTP?

You're Lucienne and you just got SCREWED on the corporate ladder and are already dealing with some rich trust fund kid DYING yet also leaving you in Charge of an insane company.

And during that you find out oh my god the world might be destroyed?? And there's a Princeps who has a super special computer that will decide the fate of the universe? So you stash them away to keep them safe and go back to covering up the murder you might be to blame for, because universe destroying computer is like priority TWO right now.

And then you find out?? Your ex lover friend has become a pirate???! And has STOLEN the princeps??! AND THE WORLD ENDING COMPUTER??! And quit??! And posted Nudes to the world??! And they look amazing?

So okay okay new priority is FIND THEM right NOW so you send all the resources in the world to go snatch them up which should be easy enough because you've seen them run, they're literally a weak and flailing office worker in a pencil skirt.

Welp! Next report comes in and they exploded a building with sex putty??? And decimated a fleet of the best fighters you can hire? And had time to go to a dogshow in between???

Fine, okay, it's fine because you KNOW they'll slip up again and they do! They show up,,., in a live stream? Partying with the ceo of space uber?? In a casino? That they just OPENED? WHILE THEY'RE ON THE RUN?!

So you go to that planet and go to contact the sheriff and his Head is on a Fucking Spike because your Friend absolutely wasted him? And kicked every police officer out of town so the whole town could go super super hard for space burning man?

And have escaped Again.

So now you're in some kind of room with like 20 screens and probably two blackberries in each hand, going full manhunt. Face recognition software, algorithms, zooming in on photos and yelling Enhance.

And you find them! And they👏 are👏 at👏 Disneyland👏! What! The! Fuck!

You send your best guys again! (And also??! These 'best guys' maybe have a space slug in their skull that's going to end the world! Can't even focus on that rn!). And then when they get back, happy and proud they show you the Princeps that they've captured and it's god damned thin air! Because it was a hologram and this dumb sonuva bitch is zonked out of his mind from a fish psychic. Great, of course. Of Course.

You're being hounded by your company, you still don't know where your 'dead fiance' is, you're running out of time. How are you ever going to find them- You check your phone they are doing a hunger games at Las Vegas. And a rival company has made them influencers. And they're famous.

Of course.

But you do pull it off in the end! You get them! You imprison them! And their one fatal flaw? They decided to reunite one of their crew members with their birth mother while being wanted criminals.

So that's the chase you got them (they escape again of course they escape, and the birth mother turns out to be a Hell of a business woman and maybe just did a masterful corporate maneuver on you.)

And it's so important to know that this entire time you've been chasing a Big Hot Dog.

[unholybacon355]

I tawt I taw a puddy tat!

Chaeryeong x G!P Yeji

Word Count: 4.2k

A/N: Another story I wrote a long time ago (almost three years ago). I'm posting it here now because I haven't been able to write anything new because adult life keeps me busy, and don´t wanna let you for months without posting another story. Finally as I always say, I hope you enjoy it.

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Yeji was on all fours on the living room carpet, but not trying to pick something up from under the couch or to exercise. It was actually because of something more wicked and mischievous at the same time, partly because of the outfit she was wearing. She was wearing thigh-high stockings, which had sponges like those cats have on the soles of their feet, a thong that was barely able to cover her penis, and which at the back opened into two straps; giving free access to her ass. And right on her butt she wore a plug in the shape of a feline tail. On her chest was something that looked more like a strap than a bra, it was just thick enough to cover only her nipples. The hairstyle and makeup also perfectly emulated a cat, accentuating her already feline features, in addition to the fact that she had grown her nails to be of a more catlike length. And of course there was the necklace she wore around her neck.

Of black leather and covered with velvet by the part that touched the skin of the sweet neck of the girl. The collar has spikes that protrude outward, but ended in a blunt point so as not to harm anyone. And in the center of the necklace a ring, to which a thin metallic chain was attached; a chain that ended in Chaeryeong's hands.

The younger girl was sitting cross-legged on the couch, watching carefully as the other girl licked and sucked on one of her milk-soaked feet. Next to them on the floor was a plate with milk, in which every so often Chaer would put one of her feet to cover it again; and thus give her kitten more to eat. Yeji meanwhile avidly cleaned everything she could, while from time to time emitting little purrs to show her mistress that she was enjoying it.

“Hmm, you're being a good kitty. That's right, clean it all up. " She put her foot back on the plate and when she lifted it, she watched with amusement as the older one ran her tongue from the heel to the tip of her toes, to catch a rebellious drop. The girl knew that if she stained the carpet she would be punished, and that was what she wanted the least now. All she could think about at this moment was enjoying her feet that she kindly offered to her, and how she would be rewarded if she left them clean.

"Kitten, do you want a prize? You've been good so you deserve it. " Chaer asked, removing her foot from the pet's mouth. All the girl gave in response was a meow, which she interpreted as an affirmation. So Chaer threw a towel to the kitty to dry her feet, and when she had finished she pulled on her chain to get her closer to her, staying between her legs now open. "You want this?" She asked her gently, patting between her crotch barely covered by her underwear.

All Yeji did was open her eyes eagerly and shake her head in affirmation. She was going to play her role perfectly, not for nothing had she spent hours putting on makeup and dressing for the occasion. No, she wasn't going to screw it up; and she was not going to speak unless her mistress told her expressly.

At the expression of the kitten, Chaer raised her hips, allowing the pet to take the thong by the straps and slide it down her thick thighs, until she brought it to the ground. Then she lifted her right leg and put it on the elder's shoulder. "Come." It was all she needed to say to get the pet to lick her lips before starting to place little kisses on her left thigh. Yeji adored the girl's thick and perfect thighs, she loved watching her dance and watching her move them. Every time they were on stage it was difficult for her not to admire her, as if she were a goddess to worship. But what she was really worshiping at that moment was the perfect sight she had in front of her. Chaer's beautiful lips parted slightly for her, radiating warmth from her anticipation. The small clit swollen with the hot blood that ran through her entire body, and a patch of hair neatly trimmed in a triangle.

Slowly the kisses approached the center, where, thanks to the caresses, the girl's natural humidity began to be present. She then placed a soft kiss on her lips, before tracing her vulva from the bottom up with the tip of her tongue; as if she were a kitten grooming her mistress. Immediately the musky taste and pleasant aroma of Chaeryeong flooded her senses, clouding her mind and causing her to lose some of her self-control. So she plummeted to eagerly devour the sweet delicacy that the girl was offering her.

She only used her hands to caress the girl's fleshy thighs, since the center was skillfully attended to by her tongue; and she didn't need more to drive her crazy. Judging by the moans coming out of the younger’s mouth, Yeji's abilities were more than enough to make her touch the sky. The kitten traveled the entire vulva with her tongue, without forgetting any corner. Her lips were well cared for, and the sensitive bundle of nerves that was her clitoris never failed to receive its dose of pleasure from her. The sweet nectar that emanated from the girl was greedily devoured by the older woman, but even so her fluid began to run down her chin.

"Yes, like this." She was able to say between moans "A-a li-little faster. I-I will cum in your face. ”The order was given and Yeji obeyed it instantly in order to receive her second reward of the night. She increased the pace of her frantic licking and accelerated her pace now using her entire mouth to devour the girl sitting on the couch. The leg around her neck tensed and pulled her closer, and the girl began to lift her hips to get more friction; that's when she really knew that her mistress's first orgasm was near.

With no other warning that a louder and longer moan than the previous Chaeryeong came on Yeji's face. Not even with her mouth attached to the minor's vagina, she wasn’t able to catch all the nectar that she threw. Thick drops collected all over her face and slowly fell down her neck. She began to meow loudly as a sign of thanks, because she really loved that part of the sex, while her mistress kept panting and trying to control the spasms that still engulfed her.

“MEEEEOOOOWW !! MEEOOOOOW !! " It was all the kitten said to let it be known that she was grateful for the prize she had been given. Then her mistress pulled on the chain and she knew what was next. She climbed up the couch, and across Chaer's naked body to go kiss the girl's neck. Little by little it began to rise to the chin and then to the pair of eager lips that waited for her to share the nectar, because if for Yeji and Chaer there was something in life that was worth sharing, that was the delicious taste of the minor. The kiss was passionate from the first moment, as was usual between those two when sharing such a precious delicacy. They needed each other and sought the delicious flavor at each other's wedding, and for a second they forgot the perverted game they were playing. They stopped being the kitten and her mistress, to become two lovers who only tried to devour each other in an endless kiss. But everything has to come to an end at some point, and the girls had to part with gasping for air.

The youngest bit her lip and now it was she who, after a moment's hesitation, reached for the pet's neck to kiss the skin that the collar left exposed. With the hand that was not holding the chain she opened the clasp of the bra, freeing the small but firm breasts of the older. She then began to caress them and trace circles over the hardened nipples, as they kissed again. She was an indulgent mistress and she knew that her kitten deserved all kinds of rewards for making her feel so good, for making her came in that way. But she knew that wasn't enough, for she clearly could feel a bulge pricking her stomach.

Yeji was straddling the younger, and her hard erection was stabbing into her stomach. Her thong barely contained the girl's hard cock in an almost painful way, so Chaer untied the straps at her sides and took it off. Releasing her erection to stain the girl's abdomen with precum. The kitten's arousal was so evident that now a small thread of semen connected the younger's stomach with the older's hard cock.

Without saying anything, as the words were superfluous between them at that moment, she wrapped her fingers around her hard shaft and began to pump slowly. The moans and meows were immediate. Yeji liked what she was feeling and she let the other girl know. They reconnected her mouths in a kiss, while she increased the pace on the erection. She knew the pet would last even less than her, she could tell by the way her shaft throbbed, by how the blood pumped harder and harder under her firm grip. The way the girl squirmed and moaned, even when they were kissing. She wasn't going to last much longer, and she was determined to make it last even less.

She broke the kiss and instantly she could see in the girl's eyes that she needed her and wanted her lips back, but instead she preferred to tease her a bit. "You like it? Are you enjoying it? " She asked with a smile on her face. “Do you enjoy it, pathetic little pet? I know you love how I touch you, I can feel how hard you get. I know you want to come, I know you want to throw your cum on me. " The words were clearly fulfilling her objective, as the cock seemed about to explode “MEEEOOOOWW !! MEOOOOOW !! " She meowed again in response, for she knew that even under these circumstances she was not allowed to speak. But she clearly believed that she was getting more than she deserved for being the girl's personal pet. Maybe for her being the pet was the real prize.

“I allow it for this time. I want you to throw your load on me, ”To tell the truth the rhythm with which she was moving her hand was getting a bit erratic as she was starting to get tired, but she was not going to abandon her kitten in a moment like this. She stood her ground and even increased the sway as much as possible, because she knew she would soon be done. That was for sure because the pet had hidden its face in her mistress's neck, where she was still meowing and moaning in equal measure. And just as she had only moaned louder when she came, Yeji gave a meow longer than the previous ones and started squirting semen on Chaeryeong. Thick traces of the slimy substance found their way to the girl's chest, covering her brown nipples and beginning to trickle down to her abdomen. But even so, he did not let go of her shaft, nor did he stop masturbating her until she had completely overcome the horgasm. Then she brought her hand to her mouth and wiped the drops of semen that had dripped between her fingers with her tongue. The taste was sweet, because the girl took care of her feeding her in order to obtain that flavor, it was nothing more than a small detail for her mistress.

"Look what you did. Now you should clean it. " That was not a suggestion and Yeji knew it. So she turned her face away from the girl's sweaty neck and without dismounting her legs, she bent down to clean all the semen that she herself had spilled. Her tongue tickled Chaer wherever she passed, making her wince at the pet's licks and hickeys. But even so she didn't stop cleaning it. She made sure her abdomen and breasts were clear of any trace of her seed, taking perhaps more care than was allowed on her nipples. Big brown nipples that hardened like rocks at the dance of her tongue, but she loved them that way. She loved sucking them and feeling them in her mouth.

When she was finally convinced that she had cleaned her well she straightened up and opened her mouth sticking her tongue out, to show Chaeryeong the semen that she had collected for her. Then for the second time that night they kissed as if their lives depended on it, also sharing the fluid of one of them. The semen passed from one mouth to another and returned to the previous one, driven by the frenzied dance of tongues that was taking place between them. They enjoyed it, they savored it, they shared it and they swallowed it little by little in almost equal parts. Because if for the minor there was something in life that had to be shared, that was Yeji's semen.

When she had already swallowed all the semen they separated but did not stop looking, her eyes were still fixed on those of the opposite, while they gasped to try to catch their breath. They looked at each other with an almost animal need, but you could still find hidden love behind all that lust and passion. Their bodies were already hot and sweaty, although the night had only just begun for them.

"Go get my toy." Chaer said smiling with a half crooked head. Yeji smiled back at her and got up with little meows, as she knew what was to come was going to be good. Then she went to the bedroom in search of one of her favorite toys, while Chaer watched her shake her butt with the feline grace that characterized her. The chain hung between her breasts and the plug with the tail brushed the walls of her butt, causing her erection to gradually get hard once more.

She came back almost instantly, carrying a bottle of lube in one hand and a strapless strapon in the other. A dildo of considerable size, which had a smaller tip at the other end. Yeji loved that toy because it allowed Chaer, who didn't have a cock like she, to fuck her ass to exhaustion and even beyond it. She couldn't help biting her lip in anticipation of how she was going to feel in a few minutes, or how she was going to be used.

She arrived in front of her lover and knelt in front of her spread legs again, before starting to lick and suck on the smallest tip of the dildo. She made sure to coat it well with saliva and warm it with her breath, before going over Chaeryeong's folds with the toy. She then introduced it into her slippery vagina, earning a moan from her mistress. Who was already ready to give her the final award. Or maybe it was Chaer's reward, you could never be sure with the two of them. The only unquestionable truth was that she loved to fuck Yeji's ass in every position she could, and that Yeji loved that too.

"You already know what to do. Where do you want it?" At least the pet could normally choose where and how it was to be fucked. So she handed the lubricant to her mistress, and without further ado she turned around and, moving a bit away, got on all fours right there. Tonight she wanted it on the soft carpet in the living room, but she was still aware that if they stained it she was going to receive punishment.

A sudden movement in the plug pulled her out of her thoughts, her toy was slowly being removed. With care of her Chaer was withdrawing it little by little, because the girl's ass had adjusted around the toy that had already been inside her for a couple of hours. When it was finally out of her she felt empty, and somewhat vulnerable without her tail; she didn't like to lose her feline look when they were playing. After all she had prepared a lot for the occasion, and she didn't want anything to ruin it. But she, too, knew that soon her tail would be replaced by something bigger, and that she was going to enjoy it even more.

"God, your butt looks so perfect like this ... So delicious ..." Chaer approached her pet's ass and in the same way that she had eaten it, began to lick from the scrotum to the girl's anus. Until she concentrated on savoring her lover's delicious ass, drawing little circles with her tongue and pressing the tip of it into her wrinkled opening. Chaer certainly loved the sweet taste of that ass, and she didn't mind eating it even though it was sweaty after practice; or clean and perfumed like now. All she wanted was to immerse herself in the taste and aroma of her kitten to make her as wet as possible, before using that ass in a different way. When she was finally satisfied and her hunger was sated, she spread a generous amount of lubricant on the area; before also smearing the part of the dildo that protruded from it.

"Open more for me." Chaeryeong wanted her open and surrendered, and that was what she was going to get from her as the obedient pet rested her chest on the floor and used her hands to spread her buttocks from her. Seeing her offer herself in that way, the child aligned the toy with Yeji's entrance and pressed a little, then moved away from her and pressed again. The first time she encountered some resistance, but then the toy's head came in aided by the lubricant. She then began to draw and insert the tip, observing how the anus remained open for a few seconds when the toy was out of her; and then it would slowly close again. So she was getting used to it until the false phallus could enter and exit without problem, then the real fun began.

Chaer took her pet by her hip and pushed the toy deeper and deeper into her. And when finally her pelvis collided with Yeji's buttocks she stayed like that for a moment, before backing away and starting to fuck that wonderful ass. The toy filled the kitten so well and its walls fitted so perfectly, it seemed as if it had been created for the sole purpose of penetrating her ass specifically. The thick phallus obeyed Chaer's movements by following her swaying, despite having no straps. But the truth was that she did not need them, because the tip that was inside her, the smallest, was all she needed to cling to her flesh. In addition, in this way both shared the pleasure, since Yeji's ass was filled and the thrusts made the toy vibrate inside Chaer's vagina. So she could also reach orgasm by fucking her pet's ass. Truly much better than a normal strapon, but not as a real dick.

Yeji could feel how the walls of her rectum fitted perfectly to the dimensions of the toy, as her flesh seemed to suck every inch with ravenous hunger. She wanted this with a growing fervor that made her seem almost insatiable, and the truth was that she could remain being fucked by Chaer for hours as it was a pleasure for her to serve her mistress. And at the same time for the youngest it was a pleasure to fuck her kitten as much as she could.

By now Yeji had released her buttocks and was now gripping the carpet with both hands, as if that would help her to resist the force of the thrusts. She could feel her entire body tremble with each blow, her chest being pressed more and more against the soft carpet each time Chaer lunged against her. All that was heard at that moment was the sound of sex, the slapping of bodies colliding, the moans and meows of both girls. They were both covered in sweat and agitated as they could, both were sore in different places but for the same reason, and both could feel their climax approaching.

Chaer took a firm grip on Yeji's hard cock and began to jerk it off, barely missing a beat. By the way her phallus throbbed and her blood pumped inside her, she could easily tell that the kitten was about to come again, so she began to masturbate her again. But they had to be careful, if she stained the carpet they would be caught, and that does not benefit either of them. So she wrapped her fingers around the tip of her phallus, ready to receive the load, and continued to masturbate her to the rhythm of her thrusts.

Certainly, even if they didn't want to stain the carpet, it was too late, since a while ago Yeji had started to drool like the cat that she was; and now a small patch of saliva had formed near her mouth. She knew she was going to be punished for it when her mistress found out, but that maybe did nothing but turn her on. She might be forbidden to wear underwear for a while, and she would have to go everywhere trying to hide the erection that Chaer would make sure she got, or if she was lucky she would make her wear a plug for a whole day. But all those thoughts drifted from her mind as she began to feel the more erratic thrusts, as the pumping on her cock became less constant to a stop. She then knew that it was her turn to act hers.

Yeji began to move her hips, synchronizing her movements with the minor's thrusts, and at the same time fucking her hand. She could clearly feel her toy pressing against her gut, and that only made her even harder. The pressure on her prostate was already beyond human limits, so with one last thrust on Chaer's hand she exploded. The semen gushed out again from the tip of her cock, and this time it accumulated in the hand of her mistress, who did not let a single drop escape her. And while she was still coming shaking she moved her ass back as hard as she could.

That last shivering movement from Yeji was what Chaer needed to climax as well. The vibrations from her toy inside her were too much to hold on, so she didn't hold it back any longer. She stuck her hips to Yeji's ass as much as she could, making the toy completely disappear inside both of them, and moaning like crazy she came again. This time she did not squirt like the previous occasion, but her honey began to drip down her thighs threatening dangerously to reach the carpet. Not giving herself time to collect herself before she started to move again she flopped back, coming out of Yeji's ass. The toy came out of the rectum of the older girl making a sucking noise, and leaving her irritated anus open for a few seconds; then Yeji collapsed onto her side, panting as if she were a bitch instead of a cat.

Now Yeji was lying on the rug and Chaer was sitting with her back on the sofa. They were both covered in sweat and panting like they had run a marathon, but they also had huge smiles on their lips. They were both sore and their muscles burned in many places, but they couldn't stay that way forever. Chaer put her hand full of semen to her mouth and cleaned it as best she could. The idea of sharing the slimy substance again was tempting, but she decided to swallow it in its entirety because she loved to feel Yeji's semen inside her body.

And so still aching and panting, they struggled to their feet and began to collect their things in silence. Chaer with her toy still inside her, and Yeji with her ass on fire from the hard fuck she had received. The latter she stared at the milk plate she was holding "Lia is going to kill us if she finds out what we did with her milk." She finally spoke to the kitten for the first time since she had started all this game hours before. Then they both looked at each other and laughed together before barely heading for the shower.

"You know" Yeji said once they reached the bathroom. "It's a shame to waste all this milk .." And without warning she threw it on the chest of a surprised Chaeryeong. The liquid covered her breasts and began to fall down her abdomen, mixing with her sweat, and finally reaching to the floor. "Whoops! Now I'm going to have to clean up this mess. " And with a wide smile the kitten started licking her mistress once more.

[somber-sapphic]

Uuhh can I request a Natasha x Sick!Reader. R is sorta new to the Avengers and doesn't really talk to anyone but Nat, R gets sick on a mission and no one seems to notice except Nat. R tries to take care of themselves back at the compound but can't so Natasha steps in? You can make it romantic or platonic I'm cool with either. Thanks in advance! And if you already have a fic like this my b just ignore 😅

Sickness and Secrets

〖Notes: Hey, sorry this was so late! Also I might accidentally be reusing pictures but its like 2am so I'll care about that later. I hope you enjoy it!〗

〖Summary: Being the newest member of the Avengers you really have no place to take a sick day.〗

〖Word Count: 1.4k〗

〖Pairing: Natasha x Sick Reader

☾Masterlists☽

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You coughed quietly into your shoulder and cleared your throat, glancing around to see if anyone had noticed. They were all focused on Cap who was yelling about how poorly everyone had done in that last mission. He was particularly focused on “communication” which was definitely pointed at you although he was too polite to say it. Tony wasn’t. Eventually, he’d strengthen the link to you, and you’d be chewed out in front of everyone.

Said mission had been in Russia during the winter and you had not done very well. You’d then try your best to remedy your mistake, which of course made everything worse. You knew that you were sick before the team left, but being so new you couldn’t just say that you wouldn’t be able to go. None of the Avengers would skip a mission for a stupid little cold.

Then that stupid little cold had turned into something bigger. The fever had started the first night in that cold drafty cabin and had spiked by early that morning. Natasha, who you were sharing that tiny room with, had checked on you once when she’d heard your teeth clattering from the shivering. She had tried to order you to tell her, but you had been far too out of it for her words to have mattered.

You couldn’t entirely remember the conversation, but you were like 80% sure that she’d offered you a place in her bed if you couldn’t get warm. That had been a weird offer, but you were tempted to take her up on it. From what you remembered she had kissed your forehead but that was very likely a dream. No way she had actually done that, she barely knew you.

Regardless of your fever, the mission continued. And with it, you gained a chesty cough, aching limbs, and a seemingly permanently runny nose. You had done the best you could, but it admittedly wasn’t very good. You’d forgotten to say anything when you were attacking and apparently had your comms off the whole time so even when people were speaking to you your answers weren’t going through.

You did not do well and now Tony was very much making sure that you knew it. His words were a low buzz in your ears, and it was really all that you could do to keep your eyes trained on him as he paced around yelling at you.

Now everyone was looking between the two of you, a few smirks coming from Clint and Thor who were both amused by your proverbial ass-whooping. Natasha and Cap seemed annoyed while the others were just not listening, too tired to care. It had been a long week and you had screwed it up. All you did was mess up.

Hot tears welled up in your eyes and you stared down at your shoes, sniffling quietly as you tried to keep yourself under control. This wasn’t professional and you needed to keep yourself professional. It would’ve been easier if he wasn’t yelling, but he was, and you were losing control.

“Hey, we get it. Y/n fucked up. She’ll do better next time, let it go.” Natasha snapped, pulling you out of your stupor. You glanced over at her and found her leaning forward defensively with one hand drifting over to your side of the table.

Completely overwhelmed now you shoved the chair back from the table and stumbled out of the conference room, mumbling slurred apologies as you practically ran from the room. You’d made it about halfway to the elevator when your legs gave out and you slammed into the wall, bashing your cheek against the hardwood. It hurt, but not as much as the rest of you.

You let out what was probably the most pathetic sound you’d ever made as you slid down the wall, the stupid tears beginning to fall from your eyes. You were miserable, you wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed and maybe die a little bit. That sounded okay, as long as you didn’t have to feel anything.

You weren’t sure how long you were laying there before you heard muffled footsteps, but you simply didn’t have the energy to look up. It didn’t really matter anyway; you could feel yourself slipping into unconsciousness. It would only be a few more seconds before you faded away completely.

“Let’s get you off the floor Y/n.” Natasha whispered, taking your hands in hers. You tried to listen, you tried to let her pull you to your feet, but you were too weak. You felt her arms slip around you and your feet left the floor, leaving you hanging in the air with only her to support you.

“Try to stay awake, okay?” Her voice was fading fast and as you’d guessed, you were out less than two seconds after she’d hoisted you into her arms. At least you didn’t have to be alone.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“I’m here, I’m here. It’s okay beautiful, I’m here.” Natasha soothed, pushing your hair back away from your forehead, her eyes full of concern. Her hands, which were typically consumed by acts of violence, were so gentle, her movements so slow and caring. She traced your cheekbone with a thumb, studying your face with a furrowed brow.

“m’sorry, m’so sorry. Go, please go, ‘m fine.” You insisted, shoving her off of you in a blind attempt to scramble away from her. You found yourself pressed up into a corner between your bed and the wall, utterly confused as to how the hell you had gotten into your bedroom or why Natasha was there, but you didn’t like it.

You didn’t want to see her so weak it was humiliating, and you were new. She would tell, she would get you booted from the Avengers. You needed this job, you needed to be here, you’d worked so hard and couldn’t go back to your apartment. Literally, you had been evicted. You had nowhere else to go.

Your panicky breaths quickly turned to a fit of aggressive coughs, you sounded like you’d smoke a pack a day for twenty years. This did nothing to help your anxiety as one of Natasha’s warm hands fell on your back and she took yours with the other, running her thumb across your knuckles.

“Y/n, hey, you’ve gotta breathe. Try for me, okay? Big slow breath.” She encouraged, her voice calm even while you were actively freaking out. You let out a loud sob and tried to pull away, subconsciously still holding tightly to her hand.

With her quiet encouragement, you managed to calm yourself down, turning back into the shivering, feverish husk of a person that you’d become. Your nose was running onto your sleeve, but you were too exhausted to do anything about it, eventually, you’d fall asleep again and it would all go away.

“Come here,” she said softly, lifting one arm as she gestured for you to hug her. You whimpered, lower lip quivering as your body threatened to start crying again.

“It’s okay honey, you don’t need to be alone. When I’m as sick as you are I sometimes make Clint come read to me.” You smiled a little at the thought of that as you inched toward the woman, the idea of Natasha wanting a story read to her sort of amusing. You hadn’t known the woman very long, but it was long enough to know that she wasn’t that type of person.

With very slow, cautious movements you inched into the redhead’s arms, leaning stiffly against her as she pulled you into a loose embrace.

“I can’t give you any more medicine for a few hours, so for now let’s just try to sleep. Does that sound okay?” The highly skilled assassin murmured, pressing a very soft kiss to your damp forehead. You knew that it had to be gross, you were very sweaty, but she didn’t seem to mind. Not out loud at least.

“P-please don’t tell.” You pleaded, that same exhaustion looming again. It was unlikely that you would be able to stay awake for much longer, but you had to make sure that she wouldn’t tell anyone how weak you were. Natasha chuckled quietly and rubbed your upper arm in a comforting way.

“It’s okay dorogaya, your secret’s safe with me.”  Maybe if you were feeling better, you would’ve made her promise a second or third time, but for now, that would do. You barely knew her, but you already trusted Natasha Romanoff with your life.

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[bts5sosempire]

the tyrant (vi); side two

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: sukuna ryomen x reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 3,443

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: old time period, mention of arranged marriage, polygamous marriages, slow-burn yandere, power imbalances, peer pressure, anxiety attack (beginning, it's mc), superstition involved, etc.

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: "you were the apple of Sukuna’s eyes, the one who brought him solace and everything. The only thing you were incapable of was giving him a child, an heir he wished to spoil like he did to you."

𝐚/𝐧: so I finally churn and did the other half, I didn't proof read this btw. For now letting y'all simmer in this one. Pls like, comment down below for tagging, and reblogged if you like! Thank you for your patience lovelies! 💖✨️

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Your heart was hammering that it resounded loudly in your ears, and you could feel your blood rushing through every part of your body and veins. You were scared. Sukuna quickly departed after the revelation and reveled in your horrid expression; he had made it clear what his intentions with you were; this time, it wasn't just a fleeting dream you could avoid. It's a reality now. You quickly dismiss everyone to go on break, much to their appreciation, and then throw yourself into an abandoned room where no soul is around.

Once inside the room, your legs give out just in time as you drop onto the floor while screwing your eyes shut tightly when your body goes through rapid temperature changes. Your anxiety keeps spiking up as you struggle to breathe correctly; one of your clammy hands grips the collar of your kimono in pain while the other is blindingly holding the door shut. To prevent anyone from coming in and seeing you like this.

You waited until your anxiety went down and your throat was not encasing itself like a boa. The inside of your mouth tasted dry like chalk, yet it was slimy. Even your body glides in light sweat when you can feel them forming on your forehead too. It feels pretty hot now despite the cold air inside the room. The fabulous cape on your shoulders reminds you of Sukuna's presence, and you tear it off and throw it as far as you can in a fit of weak anger. The sudden anxiety attack left you tired when you tried to move further inside the room but couldn't and just hopelessly lay still against the door.

Your stomach gnaws in discomfort, and the sourness pools inside. You tried to steer your mind away from Sukuna, and it's hard. The problem seems to arise after another when you think you have taken yourself out of it. Your mind reels that there's nowhere to hide anymore; this is too much for you to bear at the given moment.

Cursing at yourself, tears pools around your eyes, and your vision blurs for a second. Wiping them away before they can fall only enables the dam to be broken; once one falls, all starts to cascade down your face. The quiet sniffles and hiccuping down your voice echo around the vacant room quietly; you cry over many things, but the fear of losing your individuality and becoming Sukuna's scares you the most. You don't want to submit to someone like him.

Your bracelet was the only thing that gave you peace and comfort, knowing that you still had complete control over your anatomy. Your rights to your life, but he had to take that away from you, didn't he? Using your sleeves to wipe out the tears, you fiddle with the bangle and see it is polished when turning it around on your wrist. You unclasped the lock and saw the small door on the inside was sealed shut. If Sukuna thoroughly modifies your bangle, then the residue of basil should be gone too.

Without much thought, you gradually pick up your bearing and act normal again, like you didn't experience any turmoil. Once you go back out there, you have to face everything again. You're sure that mouths were already flapping around with rumors and stories of the stunt Sukuna had pulled prior. Looking at the forgotten cloak that pools on the floor, disgust fills your red-rimmed eyes. There was a heavy sigh from your lips; you pondered whether you should leave it there to be found by someone else or pick it up and hand it to someone to give it back.

If you were to wear it again, you would have to meet him and return it in person. You don't want to see him; the fear of him subsides only a little bit, and it is slowly replaced with bitterness. Graciously picking it up, you decided to find the nearest available servant. "You two there," You call out when opening the door. Your presence startled two maids that jumped up in fright, and they quickly bowed before sticking close together. "Take this to Lord Sukuna," handing the cloak over to them; they took it from your hands gently despite being hesitant to do so while trembling at the mention of his name since everyone was afraid of Sukuna.

When you're out of sight, two young maids do what they are told when walking out of the long corridor. One suddenly said, "Did you see Lady (Name) eyes? I think she was crying." It piqued her friend's interest, but they shook their head. "I didn't see it; I'm too nervous to look at her."

"I guess it was confirmed earlier when Lord Sukuna came by to visit Lady (Name); nobody was close enough to hear what they were saying, but as soon as his Lord left..." The first maid was continuing to whisper to her friend until a figured pop around the corner.

It was Uraume, and both shut up instantly and properly greeted Sukuna's retainer. Uraume barely acknowledges their existence and walks on to help you with decorations. It was until they spoke loudly for only those two to hear, "It would be in your best interest to be careful about what you utter around. Every day, heads roll around in the execution yard."

That was enough for them to walk away faster.

°

Sukuna stares at a 3d map in front of him; it shows the whole region of Japan, but he's more concerned about the mountains. Up in the hills were the Heiyan people, native to the harsh nature there. For as long as Sukuna knows, they have been a thorn in his side. They are nothing but vicious in his eyes, deluding themselves from the path of advancing modern technology. The Heiyan are known to be strict with their traditional values; they rarely derive from their beliefs, as they don't even mix their blood with other people, only their own.

Sukuna wanted rare ores from there, but they made it difficult for him to gather as they had pushed him away. He knows that marriage is always a topic when dealing with anything political. The chieftain of the Heiyan, Cheif Mozuru, was a stubborn man. The only way to access the land was to marry one of his four daughters, but Sukuna was also a mule, perverse in his thought that they weren't worthy of him.

The War Demon has taste, but he wouldn't lower himself to be with them as they expect him to change too. They also wish for him to convert to their beliefs, and much to Sukuna's dismay, he rejects the notion on the spot. Now they are at war with each other.

But there was exciting news that was brought to him the other day by a spy who he had happened to bribe. The spy was no further than an agent from a neighboring rival, Totsuwa Iriyu. The man was marrying the second eldest daughter to secure a treaty. News of Sukuna trying to get access to the land was probably the main reason why Totsuwa decided to strike. Totsuwa was often an overzealous man, having been trying to pine down Sukuna's title for the longest as he knew. And for another reason.

Sukuna was the reason why Totsuwa's father died in the first place—he framed the poor senile man for converting power secretly and trying to raise a coup d'etat against the former Emperor.

"You should be thankful that your father had passed away peacefully." Sukuna chuckled lowly into Totsuwa's ear with the intent of throwing salt to the wound. The blood of Totsuwa's father drips down the Sukuna's face onto Totsuwa's garb. The son could only watch with eyes wide with shock and terror as his father's corpse, hollow vacant eyes with their mouth wide loose, reflected in his eyes. The blood that seeps from the open slash across the torso dyed the tatami mat red.

Sukuna then patted the latter shoulder a few times and stood up from his one-kneeling position and out the door. The blade shines brightly from the moonlight despite it being coated in droplets of red.

With the death of Totsuwa's father, Sukuna was granted more of the Emperor's grace for taking such a jaded person out, making him unstoppable. If it was known, the Totsuwa household name fell from grace as they were no longer invited to be a part of the Emperor's insiders. Soon, more fell off their seat, and only a few remained behind. The Gojo, Geto, Zen'in, and a newly formed clan, the Fushiguro.

To add more history, Sukuna was the one who put Emperor Hoshu up on that seat by assassinating their younger half-brother, Hoshen, during a power struggle.

Sukuna then gazes to the side of the table where his cloak lays. Two hesitant maids returned it, saying you ordered them to return it to him. What Sukuna had done may have spooked you. Returning his items is like returning his undesirable affection, as always; this is nothing new to him. He already got a grasp on you; all he needs to do is tighten it and let you submit yourself into his palm and accept his pampering.

"Doctor," Sukuna spoke up suddenly, and the physician almost toppled their pills to the side with fright. "How long would it take Lady (Name) to conceive?"

"Depends; in the meantime, she shouldn't consume anything such as medicine and concoctions for at least a week. Feeding her anything may disrupt the blood flow and cause a clot in her system, as her body needs to be recovered naturally." They nervously explained to Sukuna, who was considering their words.

Sukuna: "If she can't consume anything now, is there a way to speed up the process?"

The doctor ponders momentarily, "There might be a way, but it's a slippery slope." They look around the room and then pause to stare at the door for long seconds, then cup their mouth to whisper at Sukuna. "There is this rumored famous witch doctor among the locals, especially for the ladies, that they can cure any afflictions."

"Surely you're not jesting me? I'm a man who believes in advanced warfare and science, not superstitions." Sukuna gives the man a dubious gaze that tests the physician, "What (Name) suffered from is internally inside her body, not spiritually."

The doctor rapidly waves their hands, "You're mistaken, My Lord! It's also not about spirituality; they can also cure the body and let it return to its natural state physically. What you say about Lady (Name) is accurate; if you wish to remove the coldness that makes her unviable, I suggest you visit them!"

Sukuna pinch the bridge of his nose; he regrets even asking and should wait for your time limit to be up. "You do understand that you sound like a cuckoo, right?"

°

"This is ridiculous," Sukuna muttered under his breath. His red steed snorts and clomps its hooves against the pebble ground to agree with their master. In front of him two days later, he decided to visit the shaman's house ground. He had left the estate in secret, not without informing Uraume to keep an eye on you, and traveled a few hours out of his domain by horse to throttle up a pathway to a steep mountain.

There were no signs of life when he arrived, so much for being a famous shaman. Climbing off his horse, he ties the reins against a tree stump. Sukuna went further inside the location, his piercing red eyes scraping any signs if anyone was residing in this place.

The only thing that was presentable in front of him was a red door, and inside were countless candles lit. Sukuna heads inside with slow, studious steps that not even a trained ear can hear him. Hand at the hilt of the sword that was strapped by his side.

The further he walks in, it reminds him of the time he was targeted or willfully let himself be away by an enemy into the danger zone. Sukuna could feel a presence coming close to him, and the hand that held the hilt tightened.

With a quick draw from the scabbard, a ting resounds in the air through the available space of the building. Sukuna turned around with precision and let a full swing as his blade rested neatly against the stranger's neck; just a few more centimeters and their head would be swiped clean off and hit the ground. "Who are you?" Sukuna demanded, his red orbs locking onto the person, not phased by his overbearing attitude.

"Is this how a guest greets the owner of this place?" The person scoffs. They raise a finger and push the sharp edge away from their neck. "Although you're not the first nor likely be the last to do so." The shaman had had multiple occurrences of almost getting their heads chopped off due to virtually having little to no presence. "I'm quite impressed that you could detect me, Lord Sukuna. " They ask, "What special occasion has brought you here to my humble adobe?" Their tone changes to sweet and sultry in an instant.

"I've heard you are a good witch doctor from an acquaintance of mine," Sukuna starts, and the shaman only hums before guiding Sukuna to follow and sit on a pillow across from them.

"Who exactly did you get it from?" Sukuna gives the doctor's name, and they roll their eyes sarcastically, "I see it's that moron." Getting comfortable with themselves, they propped an arm up the table and lay sideways with their hips and curve showing. They give off an androgynous physique. "If they led you this far to me, I guess I could help. What is the problem?"

"It's about my wife," Sukuna curtly replies.

"Ah, that fair maiden?" They gave a knowing look, and Sukuna knew the shaman thought of you. Sukuna didn't miss how the unhidden admiration of mirth in their eyes was so bright it could be a night sky. He is slightly agitated by that acknowledgment. "Lady (Name) is quite a character, I looked up their star chart, and it was filled with many things. She has quite a life, I should say."

"I came here for help, not to idle." Sukuna's voice got gruff, and the shaman cleared their throat and recomposed. "Recently, I have learned that she doesn't have fertility issues but was caused by something else, and before you run your mouth, it's not anything relating to your superstitions ideology. She causes it herself semi-permanently."

"And the cause is?" They inquire with a raised brow.

"Basil. Basil seeds, she doesn't consume them, but wears them." That's all that the shaman needs to know where it's heading. It's uncommon to stumble upon women making them sterile to prevent unwanted pregnancy. The shaman had come across a crisis like this a few years ago prior.

"You wanted me to remove the cold affliction in her body?" There was a slight smile from them, but it was daunting. "I could, but there is a heavy price to pay."

Sukuna: "How much do you need?"

Shaman: "It is not gold being used for this transaction; what do you think the womb that creates life is equivalent to?"

[At the same time.]

It was quiet at the manor, with a few more decorations; it should be complete. There was a proud breath of air exhaling from your chest; all you need is to finalize everything and report to your mother-in-law. The thought of Hanami made you feel disgruntled, "Everyone, please take a quick break before we continue." A murmur of thanks filled the air.

"Let's go, Yumi," taking a walk; you were chatting with her, making small jokes here and there. Occasionally Yumi reminds you that she represents a simpler time when you were still young and didn't have this much weight on your shoulders.

"Is Concubine Asuna this dense?" An exacerbated pitch voice raised in the courtyard. You can hear two quiet sniffles; it belongs to a woman and a child. Concubine Asuna held her weeping son in her arms as two higher-upper consorts bullied them.

"She's a person with no backbone, yet dares to be courageous," another concubine snide, "even the boy doesn't even look like Lord Sukuna. Do you think she slept around?"

"Probably," the same annoying voice quip back and laughs at the thought. "Plain and undeserving too. Hey, take off your outer layer, or these servants will."

"Under whose order?" You stepped in, and the two concubines, along with their subjects, froze when they saw you walking toward them with a cold, menacing gaze that could cut a person down.

"We were just teaching Concubine Asuna manners Lady (Name)," the concubine with the pitched voice sputters out; they kept their head low, and so did everyone else. No one dares to look at you in the eyes except for Asuna's child, that looks at you with comprehensive, wondering grey eyes. You represent Sukuna.

"And by sullying Lord Sukuna's name and one of his heirs?" You tilt your head to the side with a questioning gaze, and there is a click of your tongue when they start denying with nervous laughter. "I was standing not that far away from here and heard everything, so you say I am deaf?"

"That's not what we're implying, Lady (Name)!" The second concubine cries, lifting their head to meet you, with no other excuses; they spit out the first thing that comes to mind. "You're just bullying us since Lord Sukuna favors you!"

This made you laugh. "Oh? Interesting. Should I bring it to His Lord, then?"

The second concubine put a hand over her mouth and sped away; the first one could only watch with disbelief as she was abandoned by one of her supposed allies. She sneers at you with hatred and then follows suit. "Are you alright?" You ask. Asuna only nodded. You grab her by the arm and pull her up, "You should be careful."

You then eye the little boy who is no older than three. They looked at you, blinking a few times, and then continued. "Mommy, this is the princess on my book cover!" They point at you in happiness, and you look down at your garb.

"Danzo, that's not the princess," Asuna turned to you and mouthed a sheepish sorry.

"Yes, it is!" Danzo ripped their hand from their mother's hold and tried to wrap their chubby arms around your legs. They cheekily smile at you with their round, flush faces.

You were surprised that you didn't know how to react. Since you couldn't see the bewildered expression on your face, Asuna found you decent despite the stigma everyone labeled around you. You were hesitant as you are relatively flustered coming into contact with a child. Asuna noted that this was the first time one came to you willingly. You pat Danzo's head softly like you're handling a fragile glass. Even if it is maladroit, Danzo melts at the contact; their smile becomes buttery as little flowers float into the background. If they could sink into your clothes, they would.

"You can let go now," You bumble out, and they tighten their grip. Danzo rubbed their face into your legs as they let out a muffled 'no.' It was rare to see you be socially awkward, something so innocent as a child.

"Danzo, you need to listen, or you won't see Lady (Name) anymore." The boy gives their mother a stink eye before loosening their grip. Asuna pulled her son to her side.

With Danzo gone, you return to your normal state.

"My son and I should get going; sorry that you have to see such a sight," Asuna apologizes, and you brush it off with a hand, indicating it is alright.

"If they ever-" There was a ringing in your ears as your vision suddenly blurred in front of you in slow motion. Even sounds sounded such a damper. Your body was heating up, and you felt a searing pain shooting straight through your abdomen where your womb lays.

Staggering forward, everything went dark. The last thing you hear is Yumi crying out your name, and Asuna throws herself forward to catch you.

[The Shaman's place, current time.]

"Are you willing to trade one of your own for the health of her womb?" The shaman asks again. Preparation was already made, but they give another glance at Sukuna for confirmation.

Without hesitation, Sukuna answers.

"Yes."

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