#dove || the anons vessel

[jsab-au-remix]

I granted dove the ability to see you guys, but in doing so they no longer have free speech in this au or the og jfac

[bunny584]

For I Have Sinned

“Let no one say when he is tempted, ‘I am being tempted by God’ For God cannot be tempted by evil.” James 1:13.

But Father Geto can be. 

Newly appointed Chaplain of the Noble Court, Suguru is a reformed sinner. Sanctity, discipline and celibacy are commandments of his choosing. A devout servant of the Lord. Armored with the Breastplate of Righteousness, the Shield of Faith. 

This should be sufficient enough to withstand temptation. 

Right? 

Pairing: Geto x Female reader 

C/W: Religious themes, dark romance, eventual filth. 18+. MDNI. 

A/N: Holy hell. Anon, you sick, twisted genius. You, the puppeteer. Me, the puppet who writes. This one — this story might be the one. Frothing at the mouth to know what you guys think. Going on AO3 for sure. I haven’t decided if I will keep this long fic series here, but since it was an anon ask its only right to honor them with the first chapter. 

Art credit: @ potchi_jpg on X

Music: Garden Kisses x Giveon (this was on a manic repeat for at least an hour. It wrote the chapter. I implore you to listen and levitate like I did).

CHAPTER I. Hello, Duchess.

Andesite. Dacite. Schist. 

Gorgeous. 

Suguru takes a mental note of the rock formations whizzing by just before he spears the Aegean Sea. Tailwind force trailing his feet in an elegant whirl.

Eh, mediocre landing. He’s out of practice. 

It’s true. Seminary did not allow for too much idle time in between biblical studies. Devil’s playground, and such. 

And it’s not in his nature to half-ass any life endeavor, whatever it may be. 

Suguru deftly levels out in the welcoming waves. Loose-limbed and fluid. Choosing to hover below her surface for a few moments longer. The tail end of his thick, singular French braid undulating behind him.

His body flows in tandem with the current. Swimming deep enough to scatter a pool of Fagri. He instinctively captures one in his large hand — not quite as out-of-touch as he thought. 

‘Make it to shore! If Poseidon calls, don’t answer Him, son!’

The gentle fisherman called out each time Suguru dove off their vessel. Still two or three, sometimes up to five miles from the coast, he’d plunge into the waters. Regardless of her mood, Suguru craved to be surrounded by her embrace. 

To be baptized by her tide. 

Showered with her salt of the earth. 

A dampened smile blooms across Suguru’s terse lips. Oxygen bubbles float about, from the muffled chuckle escaping him. 

His father’s voice rings between his ears. A little less clearly, nowadays. 

He always dove deeper than his fellow seafarers. Without the restraints of gear or protective equipment. Unnaturally comfortable in an element more labile than human nature. 

Suguru’s father mused about his Stormborn boy’s true lineage. 

‘Everyday, I prayed for you. Begged for you. And the God of the Ocean delivered a precious gift. Don’t return to His storms too soon.’

Fond memories, a little yellowed now. Callouses from those days have faded. 

Suguru is a different man. Born again. In a new country. With a new home, a new purpose. 

Even still, it’s comforting to know the world is 70% water, 30% land. And the Great Majority has always welcomed him with open arms.

No matter the iteration of his life, he’ll always find a home at Sea.

“Father Geto!”

What? 

Suguru begins his ascent. He is still by the cliff edge. Not nearly far enough for the Sirens to beckon. 

“Chaplain! Are you out there?”

Not even the saltwater penetrates his ears like this melody. 

An ethereal crescendo. With all the grace and beauty of a summer swan. Light enough to lull stoic men to a peaceful, permanent, slumber. 

More alluring. More disorienting than the songs at sea he’s heard and resisted. Potent enough to drown a warship. 

Who is calling for him?

Suguru chases the lethal sound. Careful pauses at each depth-level. To avoid returning to Poseidon’s storms too soon, as his father would say. 

“Father Geto!” 

Ahh, a voice he recognizes. His alter boy, Noel, at the peak.

Helios is kind, today. Because the Sun kisses Suguru as he breaks the surface. If the Ocean is his home, the Sun is certainly his lover. 

“What is it, Noel?” He calls in between strides to the volcanic edge.

“You have a visitor!” A tremble to Noel’s tone. Suguru cant help the low chuckle that leaves him.

Adolescents are always so anxious. Nervous about the most inconsequential, meaningless things. He was once the same. 

Who could be visiting? His schedule is supposed to be cleared today. 

Suguru laments leaving his clothing at the peak of the cliffside. Tossing a glance over his left shoulder - memories of his past life tattooed in various symbols. His back, covered in a sprawling trident. 

A permanent stain from the life he lived before this. It’s unbecoming of a priest to be seen this way. 

Latching onto the unforgiving rocky edges, Suguru scales the steep terrain in long steps and short holds. Serrated earth digs into his damp palms with each grasp.

He savors the pain. It’s familiar. An indication that he’s spent some time in the only other place he finds unfettered peace. 

“Noel, my schedule was cleared. Who could be—“

“Pardon my intrusion, Father Geto.” You seep into Suguru’s sentence, effectively answering his question. 

Music. 

Suguru nearly falls backward off the ledge he just set foot on.

Rumors about your beauty pollenated the compound for weeks. Anxiously anticipating your arrival. Hushed voices between maidens. Whispers within the walls of parlors. Bellowing gossip between court officials. 

All the words, all the speculations roll around Suguru’s skull. Louder than glass shattering in an empty room. 

They were wrong. 

Liars. 

Not even a tenth of the truth can be found in the frivolous ‘she’s a beauty’, ‘what a pretty face’ and comments of the like taking root in the compound. 

No, no. 

You were sculpted by every single Deity Suguru has ever studied.  

Because the One he has chosen to worship couldn’t have possibly crafted you alone. 

The good Lord is simply without the means.

Suguru will have to repent for that blasphemous thought later. 

…but God granted him eyesight, no? 

Eyes that can see underwater with the same clarity as a cloudless day. He trusts his eyes more than any part of his body. 

And they aren’t deceiving him. 

Flushed and turned away, Suguru takes a moment to soak you in, while patting himself dry. Maybe taking a little extra time to step into his khaki slacks and white button up. 

His wind pipe threatens to spasm with each sip of you he takes. 

Exquisite woman. 

You could convert a non believer in an instant. 

The gentle slope of your nose, those warmed soft, high cheeks deserve to be cherished in a museum. 

That dress. 

The tailor must’ve sewn it to your body in real time. Rolling hills and dips of your feminine curves. So quick to surrender to the ride your frame is taking him on. 

Suguru could fall to his knees and praise the Gods right here and now for their attention to detail. 

“Duchess? I’m embarrassed. Forgive my attire, I wasn’t expecting visitors today.”

Still damp but fully clothed, Suguru walks forward with a steady hand outstretched. Intentionally skipping eye contact with Noel, who would’ve interpreted the glance as anger. The boy is practically vibrating in his periphery. 

Concerned about possibly making a mistake, sure. But if Suguru were still a betting man, he’d bet your presence is driving Noel’s rattled nerves. 

“I’m the one who should be asking for forgiveness!” Unveiling your face to him with a gorgeous smile, you offer a delicate hand that drowns in his. 

Well.

To call it just a gorgeous smile makes him no better than the rumor mill and its grave underestimation. 

The air around him is sliced to a fraction of what it was. Suddenly gossamer thin and inadequate. 

You are breathtaking. 

“Please.” A deceptively even tone and casual wave of his hand. You wouldn’t know that words taste like sandpaper. 

“How can I serve you, Duchess?” 

“You do not have to address me as such, Father. I’m not wed, yet!”

Bunny lines along your nose deepen when you laugh. Heat scorches Suguru’s ears and you both are presently under shade. 

Do. Not. Covet.

“It’s all the same.” With a restrained smile, Suguru peels his eyes away from yours. 

Resting them on his rectory in the distance. He gestures his hands forward. Noel scrambles ahead of you two, undoubtedly to go tidy the chapel (that is already spotless). 

“You’re quite the swimmer.” 

You could assassinate him, you know. 

With that voice of yours. The way it stuns his senses. Far more dangerous now that it isn’t dampened by unrelenting waves. 

Suguru is a strong swimmer. He knows it. Noel knows it. The whole court knows it. Great Whites know it. 

So why is his spine unraveling at its seams when you say it? 

Why is his heart knocking against his sternum like it’s on the run from something? 

From someone, rather. 

“Mmm.” Suguru hums through closed lips. 

Unable to acknowledge the compliment with decorum. He opts for diversion instead. 

“Duchess, if I may. What prompted your visit to the chapel? How can I serve you?” 

The two of you take lazy strides along the cobblestone path. You ogle at a white rose bush that Suguru is particularly fond of. 

“I was touring the compound and noticed the garden surrounding the Church.” 

A distracted response, while nestling your nose in a pretty bloom. Sun rays fanning your face as if to showcase that you’re God’s favorite. A biblical example of how flowers should be enjoyed.

Is it just the roses? Or are you this beautiful no matter the plant?  

“Ahh. Come, then.” 

You’re being indulgent, Suguru. 

Maybe so. But the Chapel Grounds are his domain. The greenery lives and breathes under his fingertips. He adamantly refused a groundskeeper for the garden. Taking pride in nurturing its needy existence. 

Second only to his eyes, Suguru trusts his hands fully. They’re intelligent. Fast. Expansive. 

Definitive. Firm when the situation calls for it, yet gentle. Quick to learn. 

Attentive. 

He’s never gotten a shortage of compliments on his hands—

“Wisteria!” You torpedo through Suguru’s rapidly disintegrating spiral. And he couldn’t be more grateful. 

Regaining a shred of control, he leads you under the oak archway. Draped in curtains of Wisteria. The billowing lilac petals sway romantically in the sea breeze. 

Your lips hang open in a pretty, shocked ‘Oh.’ Eyes wide, gazing up at him in wonder. Adoration woven into those beautiful features slams hot and heavy into his lower abdomen. Remnant embers warming below his belt line. 

Suguru coughs to reset his over-sensitive senses. A futile gesture because you knock him right back down to his knees. 

“Oh, Father…..please?” A soft plea rolls through the slit in your lips. Pulling his eyes down to your pout.

Fuck. 

The rock formation Suguru took note of earlier suddenly materializes in his throat. You coated his honorific in a new tone. Breathy and desperate. As if he is the only person who could satisfy your needs. 

His skin is half a degree away from melting clear off his skeleton under those big, warm eyes of yours. 

“Specify your request, Duchess.”

Both hands jam into his pockets so he can dig his nails into his thighs unnoticed. The searing pain tethering him to this dimension. 

A deep rose blooms over your cheeks. Realizing you hadn’t actually asked him a question before begging. 

So, prettily. 

“May I please tend to your garden? It’s…I’m far from home and gardening brings me so much joy. Please, Father Geto—“

“Yes.” 

His agreement comes well before Suguru is ready. Or, thought it through. 

Should a noble woman be seen doing tasks as menial as gardening? 

Should you be seen without your fiancée on his grounds? 

What will you look like? 

Kneeling over a bed of sunflowers? 

Kneading the soil with your delicate, small hands—

“How can I thank you?” Your lips curl into an intoxicating smile. And Suguru no longer has the capacity to be in your presence. 

“No need, stay as long as you like. I have to take my leave.”

Suguru offers a curt wave and terse smile before spinning on his heel. Leaving you, a work of art, beneath the masterpiece that is his arc of wisteria. 

He barrels down the Chapel corridors at light speed. The pews, confessional, meeting rooms whirl by his periphery in a drunken haze.

Cold water. Cold water. 

The wooden bathroom door creaks and wails beneath his harsh touch. Suguru fumbles with the two-level lock.

He nearly strips down naked. The fire incinerating him from within is unbearable. If there were scissors within grasp he would’ve cut his braid completely off. Because even the familiar sway of his waist length mane along his back is too much. 

You are too much.

Suguru’s fingers unravel his braid and reposition his locks into a tight bun. Off the damp skin along his neck. 

‘Father….please?’

Your voice echoes from Suguru’s incapacitated brain down to his drooling cock. Icy water splashes against face. 

Suguru’s length has been weeping since you first revealed your face to him. Twitching and thrashing with every single word that came out of that pretty, sinful mouth. He’s never been so grateful that today he chose to swim with compression gear, rather than his usual bared skin. 

Are you doing this on purpose?

Wide eyed and demure. But with a voice more beautiful than any siren that has tried to lure him to his watery grave. 

Is this a test?

Suguru’s fingers desperately grasp the golden cross around his neck. Digging the symbol into his palm. 

“Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners…” He starts. Ignited, smoldering violet eyes staring back at him are unrecognizable. 

They are not of God. 

They are dark. 

Lust filled. 

“Now. And…and at the hour of our death.” Words slip through his gritted teeth. His other hand grips the sink edge. 

‘May I please tend to your Garden?’

“God. Please.” Suguru is the one pleading. To anyone above.

For self-control. For reprieve from the shape of your lips when you beg. His cock bucks against his inner thigh. Demanding attention to the ache between his legs. 

Are you Eve? 

Have you come to destroy his Eden?

Your delectable mounds barely hidden beneath that fucking dress as the Apple?

“Holy…Holy Mary, Mother of God…pray for us sinners.” His vice grip around the cross tightens. Babbling words he hopes can provide him with some restraint, some clarity.

They don’t.

Because his other hand now hovers over the pulsating bulge in his slacks. His manhood starved. Especially having been deprived of touch. Of warmth for longer than Suguru remembers.

“Holy…Mary…fuck.” Blasphemy rolling off his tongue. 

Scorching heat radiating from his hovering palm pierces his clothing. Encasing his cock like a warmed blanket. Enticing him like the soft sex of a woman. Every single muscle is under wire tension. Forcing space between his need and his hand. 

His hands. Don’t forsake him now. He trusts his hands. 

“Father Geto? Are you alright?” Noel’s call from the other side of the door startles Suguru still.

“I’m—“ Suguru clears his dry throat “I’m alright, Noel. What do you need?”

“I saw you run in here and—“

“I’m okay.” Suguru replies, more softly this time. The boy is almost too tender-hearted for his own good.

He doesn’t miss the small sigh of relief. 

“I left your updated schedule on your desk.” 

“And what would I do without you?”

Suguru can almost hear Noel smiling across the barrier. Gleefully padding away. Completely unaware that his presence was the saving grace from disgracing himself. 

Another splash of cold water on his face and multiple deep breaths later, Suguru finally gains enough composure to emerge. 

Curious about the updates to his schedule, he strides to his office. A leather folder awaits with his itinerary.

Saturday: 0800 - 1000- Youth lecture 

Saturday: 1800 - 2000 - Evening mass

Sunday: 0700 - 0900 - Morning mass

Sunday: 1300 - 1400 - Pre-Marital Counseling [CONFIDENTIAL] 

“High court, then.” Suguru muses to himself. Pulling out the envelope with a matching demarcation. Meant for his eyes only. Should the seal be broken en route to the recipient the offender could be sentenced to death for treason. 

And at this moment, Suguru finds that fate less painful than the spear currently piercing his lungs.

His eyes burn into the names written at the bottom of the page.

The Duke Ahriman  & The Duchess-to-Be.

Chapter II

E/N: Hello from [redacted]. I am literally losing my shite. I’m already in love with the plot before it has even fully materialized. And prince-of-the-sea-Suguru? This headcannon has me in a chokehold I fear. Thank you for reading 💋

[diejager]

Hey! I love your monster au and was wondering how Monster! TF 141 + König and Horangi would react to Y/N getting a serious/ life-threatening injury during mission?

This reminds me of your request @thatgirlwhocantfindausername

Cw: injury, blood and gore, monster 141 cod, overprotective, implied death, worry, tell me if I missed any.

You were rushed to the ER for an emergency surgery to take care of at least a dozen bullet wounds, consciousness hanging on a loose thread and body standing between blood loss and high on morphine. The nurses had to keep the TF from barging into the operation room to let the surgeons and doctors do their work, then security was called to have them escorted to the waiting room, somberly filling the corridor with their dark mood.

They spent hours upon hours wondering if you’d make it, the most pessimistic of them already fearful and minds shutting down at the simple thought of burying you, or scattering your ashes, or being the bearer of bad news for the rest of your relatives. Despite the stoic mess in their faces, lips pulled thinly and eyes shadowed, there were little signs of panic, a crack in their facade that showed their terror and worry. They shouldn’t have let you go without them, without at least one of them by your side.

Price looked as if he’d burst a vessel, his jaw clenched and fingers locked together to stop himself from fidgeting. König didn’t share the reserve, finger fidgeting, scratching at the loose thread of his gloves or the cuff of his shirt. Ghost wasn’t far from working his hands, his restlessness coming off from his leg, bouncing endlessly as he burned a hole into the floor. Soap was mumbling, quiet words lost to everyone’s ears, and it seemed like Horangi and Alejandro occupied their thoughts the same, hisses and swears slipping from their tongues like a waterfall. Gaz’s face looked the most pained, biting his pretty lips and brows screwed together, his eyes closed to block out his visions. And Rudolfo, the most human of them all, felt his tears blur his vision, staring blankly at the wall with trembling lips and a heart-wrenching expression.

When the head surgeon came out in clean garbs and heavy bags under his eyes, his smile took away the heaviness that weighted on the group’s shoulders, telling them that you would be fine and that you made it, albeit hooked up on painkillers, liquids, and other substance to keep you stable. The surgeon had warned them that you’d be coming in and out of sleep, dazed and in pain, that you’d mumble and whimper, but you never lucid enough to be conscious of your words.

And the moment your eyes open, blinking away the sleep that clung to your mind, the rushed to your side, whispering prises and encouragements, happiness and relief spilling from their every pores as they give you space to breathe and take a moment to take in your situation, mind still swimming in drugs and pain. They spend your recovery sitting in your room, occupying your time with small stories and little banter, making sure that every moment you spent in bed were joyful ones.

Despite the long recovery - a week spent at the hospital and a few more unable to put in any work - they clung to you, leaving one or two of them sticking by your side in case of an accident or an emergency. They were ready to help you with anything: bathing, eating, massages, or sleeping, as long as it caused you a bit of pain or annoyance.

Oh, +1000000% big guard dog privileges. None of them will let you go off on your own anymore, you’ll have one at your every beck and call, following you around like a lost pup.

Taglist: @craxy-person @crowbird @dead-cipher @iwannabealocalcryptid @iizx7y @mxtokko @capricorn-anon @perfectus-in-morte @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @angelcakes-22 @cassiecasluciluce @ramadiiiisme @ramblingsofachaoticthinker @im-making-an-effort @love-dove-noora @jinxxangel13 @daisychainsinknots @0alk0msan @mul-pi @danielle143 @beau-min @makayla-666 @urfavsunkissedleo @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @luvecarson @petwifed @randominstake @heartelysia @jggykhug09090 @cassiecasluciluce @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @call-me-nyxx @sans-chara

[professional-yapper]

This is for the anon who's ask I unfortunately lost when I accidentally posted this fic prematurely 😭😭 I'm so sorry nonnie please forgive me 🙏

Anon asked for an Aonung X reader where the reader is a Na'vi from a colder region!

The Deal

Aonung x Snow/Mountain Na'vi! Reader

Warnings: none really, mild head injury ig, aonung is so painfully ooc im sorry guys

Sempu: Dad/Daddy [informal version of father] - tsyeym: treasure, something precious

The call that land had been sighted went up shortly after dawn.

You were shaken from dreams of seals and shimmering landscapes by your father rising from the mat beside yours, rubbing a hand over his face blearily as he went to see for himself.

He was bare-chested and barefoot, wearing only pants, rolled up to his knees, as many of your fellow traders were, though the women kept their chest wrappings on for obvious reasons, having abandoned their warm furs and skins upon leaving the homeland.

You yourself were dressed simply for sleep, one of your father's old shirts, so worn thin from years of work it was perfect for the tropical climate you all had stumbled upon.

Some of the other traders had hopes of seeking out the reef, home of the aptly named reef people. You knew them by no other name. If they even had one.

Your own people were named in such a way that it couldn't be replicated here. A thin whistling noise made through the teeth, a mimicry of the icy wind that swirled across the snow covering the homeland.

But you also knew your father had no such hopes. The reef was too far, the surrounding seas too dangerous, filled with fantastical creatures that none of you could name. The not knowing was the worst part.

There was no way you could've found your way to the reef. And yet, soon, the boat was alive with traders running to redirect the vessel towards the land, calling and yipping to one another excitedly.

You sat, yawning and stretching, ears tilting downwards with the effort, the furs sliding off you as you did.

Your father smiled at you as he passed, reaching out to ruffle your hair, so like your mother's, though it had been months since you last saw her. "Come, tsyeym. Take a look. It's beautiful."

Unlike anything he had ever seen before, his eyes said as he glanced back towards the land, which came into view more strongly now, the last wisps of the fog snatched up and away by the brisk breeze.

You shifted onto your knees, leaning forward on your hands, still too sleepy to be bothered standing up, drinking in the sight laid before you greedily. A sky streaked with purple and crimson, and a sea stretching before you that reflected that.

So many sunrises, and each one as entrancing as the one before.

The reef was well within your sights now, and you could even see little figures, aqua blue in colour, high up on the layers of rock, probably coming to investigate.

Your father and a few other traders waved to them, but earned no response.

Instead, the reef people climbed down the rock levels and dove neatly into the sea, disappearing from you. You frowned. Where were they going? Were they coming towards the boat to see what you all wanted, or were they going to summon one of those mythical creatures to frighten you off?

Not sharing your father's natural optimistic personality, you stood and went over to him, tugging on his arm. "Sempu, maybe we should-"

"Look how fast they can swim, tsyeym," your father responded in a dreamy voice, watching the water, eyes fixed on them, and their forms cutting through the water became clearer to you the longer you stared. "They're made for this."

"We are not," you replied briskly, once again your mother's daughter with your practical personality. "Sempu, if they tip the boat-"

"Ah, my child. You worry too much," your father chuckled, wrapping a beefy arm around you and hugging you to his chest briefly, before striding off to help the other traders.

You huffed, but dared to move a few steps closer to the edge of the boat, following the reef people as they swam ever nearer, eyes narrowed with suspicion, hands fumbling for the fish knife that sat at your hip that you'd forgotten to take off after yesterday's evening meal.

Which also explained how uncomfortable sleeping on your side had been. Though obviously not uncomfortable enough to investigate. But nevertheless, you drew it and dropped to a crouch on the lip of the wood, gripping tightly with your fingers to keep yourself from tipping into the water, head over heels.

The reef people were close now, so close you could make out individual traits of each one. A few men, by the looks of it. Warriors, maybe. You frowned. You didn't care for warriors. The ones back home had biceps bigger than their brains, and mouths bigger than their biceps. The title of warrior was gifted as a show of strength and bravery, not intelligence or anything like that.

But you supposed it might be different here.

One of the men was actually a boy, judging by his smaller body and lack of tattoos. You leaned forward, trying to see better as they drew nearer, then swam entirely under the boat. Your frown grew. What were they doing?

Leaning further, further...

Then one of the reef people burst right out of the water before you, nose bumping against yours. You yelped, reeling back, dropping your knife in your shock.

There was a heavy moment of silence as you and the reef boy stared at each other.

He wasn't unpleasant. Just weird-looking. Hairless, like a fish. Pale and green and pink, with eyes like glaciers and dark curls that kept escaping the bun on the crown of his head.

You supposed by reef people standards he was quite attractive. By your standards too, but you couldn't even admit that to yourself.

"What are you?" he said finally, treading water and staring at you.

His attractiveness evaporated.

"What kind of a question is that?" you demanded, glaring back at him.

"I am the chief's son, you answer me first!"

You felt a headache coming on already. "That- how old are you? You sound like a little kid. And we don't recognise any kind of leadership, anyway, so take your title and stick it up your ass, princeling."

If looks could kill, you'd have just dropped dead.

He didn't say anything for a moment, taking a deep breath, ears flat against his head and nostrils flaring. Then, "Fine. I may have been too abrupt."

"A bit," you scoffed, earning another scowl from him.

"Let me finish. What I meant was; you're not like any Na'vi I've ever seen or heard of."

"So?" you replied, feeling too offended to even bother faking civility.

"So I want to know what kind of Na'vi you are. What's your tribe?" he said, ears flattening further, eyes dark and wet as he looked up at you, water lapping against his broad shoulders and chest.

"We're traders from up north. Our name is-" You made the sound for him, but the look on his face told you he wasn't going to even attempt to mimic it.

"We're Metkayina," he offered. "My name is Aonung."

"Oh," you hummed, making a note to tell your father the reef people had a name. You deliberated for a moment on whether or not to tell this rude fish boy Aonung your name, then decided not to.

And of course Aonung took offense to that too. "Aren't you going to tell me yours?" At least, you thought he would take offense. But he sounded almost amused, his expression shifting to something almost playful as he swam a little closer.

"Why should I?" you replied haughtily, curling your thick tail around your toes, hugging your knees to your chest. "You're kind of a skxwang."

Aonung laughed a little. "I get that a lot. I'm sorry, okay? I didn't mean to offend you. Seriously. I didn't know you'd take it to heart."

You raised your eyes skyward, asking Eywa if this boy was serious. "You've got to be kidding. You hit me in the face then looked at me and asked what I was, like I was a dead animal you found floating in on the dawn tide."

"I did not look at you like that."

"You did! I saw you."

"I wasn't looking at you like that!"

Your sudden laughter surprised even you. "Okay, fine, you weren't looking at me like that," you relented, leaning forward. "What were you looking at me like then?"

He smiled at you, fangs pressing into his bottom lip a little. "Like I said. I wasn't looking at you any way."

You rolled your eyes. "You're infuriating. Are all reef boys this annoying?"

"Maybe. You should come find out," he said slyly.

"Sure, if your chief wants to make a trading agreement with us."

"My dad's the chief. I can talk to him if you want," he offered, and you noticed he was swimming closer to you ever so slightly, like if he moved slowly enough you wouldn't notice.

"Why would you do that?" you prompted teasingly, tilting your head to one side. "Want me to stick around?"

He shrugged, feigning innocence. "I could care less."

You couldn't help another laugh bubbling up and out of you, warmth filling your chest at being able to talk and banter with another teen your age. Even if said teen was kind of a douche. "Sure. Just admit it. You wanna know more about me."

"Well, I still don't know your name, so you could start with that," he pointed out.

"Sure," you repeated. "Get your dad to make a trading agreement with us and I'll tell you whatever you wanna know."

"Deal," he said, shifting forward, hoisting himself up on the edge of the boat, partially leaning over you, blocking out the light of the rising sun, eyes glittering with amusement as he looked down at you.

Great Mother. His attractiveness had returned with full force.

Broad chest, strong shoulders, a perfect body by the standards of your people. The dark curls, the colour and texture still so foreign to you despite all the different Na'vi you've met. The eyes, like precious gems held up to the sunlight. The water running down said broad chest in little rivulets, glistening and catching your eyes even as you tried to stop yourself.

You stared up at him for a second, wondering what in Eywa's name he was doing, before you realised he was holding out his hand to you.

You shook it.

Christ ALMIGHTY it's gonna be another multi chapter lads. Let me know if you want to be tagged in any future chapters x

[photogirl894]

Congrats on the 1,300 followers! You deserve it and I love your work! MerMay is coming up, so I wanted to request 20 & 23 from the fluff prompts with a Merman! Hunter x Human reader if possible.

Thanks, anon!! Sorry it's taken me a while to get to this! But I figured I'd better get the MerMay request out before May is over 😅

"Sea Star"

20. “Will I see you again?”/”Would you like to?”

23. “I missed you.”/”I missed you more.”

Pairing: Merman Hunter x fem reader

***

The tumultuous ocean waves in the middle of the storm tossed you to and fro in your fishing vessel. You thought you would get to Pabu back in time before the storm, but one of the bigger fish you'd caught had taken longer to reel in due to its size and strength. Shep had warned you that maybe going out today wouldn't be the best idea, but you'd assured him you'd be fine.

If only you'd listened to him.

You were holding on as best you could, but the waves crashing into the sides of your skiff was making it harder and harder for you to keep a good grip. The thunder rumbled in your ears, the lightning temporarily blinded you with every strike and the pouring rain made everything you touched slippery. Finally, you lost your hold on the mast and were thrown into the unforgiving, icy tempest. The force of the waves prevented you from breaching the surface for air and you could feel your breath beginning to run out.

This was going to be the end, you just knew it.

Suddenly, what felt like an arm wrapped around your waist and you found yourself being pulled up towards the surface at a fast pace. You broke through the water and gasped loudly and deeply for air, letting it fill your lungs all the way up, having nearly lost it all.

An unfamiliar, masculine voice spoke loudly in your ear over the sounds of the storm as you felt yourself continue to move forward, "Hold on. I've got you."

You had barely registered the voice before you felt yourself slip into the darkness of unconsciousness.

When you woke up, you saw it was still dark out, but the storm had subsided. You recognized the slightly abrasive feeling of sand underneath you and realized you were back on the beach, specifically in front of the lower cavern beneath Pabu. You sat up, dazed still from everything that had happened, and gasped at seeing another figure leaning next to you.

What mostly startled you was the fact that the unknown person was a man with a crimson fish's tail...a merman.

He had long, dark hair that fell to his shoulders and coral-like tattoos running down his torso. His skin was a bit darker than yours, his human half was toned and muscular and his eyes were a lovely shade of brown. He was very handsome to look upon and he was looking at you with both concern and wonder in his eyes.

"Are you okay?" he asked in a deep, gravelly voice.

It was the same voice you'd heard before you passed out. Now, everything that happened made sense. "You...you were the one who saved me," you stated aloud.

He bowed his head in response. "I had spotted your boat and kept a close eye when I knew the storm was coming. I wanted to be sure you were safe."

You sat up all the way, taking in a deep breath. "Thank you," you gasped out. "I would've drowned had you not been there."

"It was no trouble. I'm glad I was nearby," he replied.

"What's your name?" you asked him.

"Hunter," he responded.

You gave him your name in return and he smiled warmly upon hearing it. Then he spoke, "Now that I know you're all right and you're safe, I must return to the sea and you should get home." Then he quickly pushed off the sand and leapt towards the water.

"Wait!" you cried out just before he dove beneath the water. However, his head re-emerged, looking back at you. You didn't want him to go; you didn't want things to end there. Then you asked him, "Will I see you again?"

He smiled again at you. "Would you like to?" he inquired back.

With a nod, you responded, "Very much."

He bowed his head again and said, "Then meet me here tomorrow night." Then he flipped back, his red merman tail breaching the water briefly, and disappeared into the sea.

***

A few months passed and you'd had multiple secret rendezvous' with Hunter over that time. You both were fascinated by each other; he shared many things about mermaid culture and you shared much with him about human culture there on Pabu. You both began as friends wanting to learn more about each other and your people, but as time progressed, you found yourselves slowly falling for each other, which was dangerous considering you both could never truly be together. Not when you lived on the land and he lived in the sea. That didn't seem to stop the feelings from catching, anyway. He had even started calling you his "sea star", which you thought was incredibly sweet and endearing. Not to mention it made your heart flutter every time he said it.

You sat on one of the rocks on the beach, staring at the glittering ocean in the moonlight, and clutched at the seashell necklace he had given you several weeks ago when he'd told you it would be a while until he could see you again. There was discourse going on in his home under the sea that he had to help deal with, but he wanted to give you something to remember him by during his absence. You were missing him terribly, not realizing just how much you'd gotten used to him being part of your nightly routine. He meant a lot to you and him being gone for so long really made you recognize how much you cared for him and wanted him in your life. Even though it would be difficult for you to be together, you still wanted him to be a part of your life. That's what mattered to you.

"I wondered if I'd still find you here after all this time."

His voice breaking the still silence made you jump slightly, but when you looked down and saw his head bobbing above the water, you couldn't contain your joy at his return. You jumped into the water and threw your arms around his neck, hugging him tightly as he hugged you around your waist and held you up.

"Hunter, I missed you!" you exclaimed.

"I missed you more, my sea star," he replied to you, his arms tightening around you. "There's something I need to tell you."

Pulling back to look at him, you asked, "What is it?"

"I don't want to be away from you a moment longer and I realize now that I can't live without you," he spoke almost urgently, as if not saying the words would cause him to burst. "I never intended to fall in love with you, but it turns out, I have and I was hopeless to resist. You really are my star of the sea and the only one my heart desires. I know it would be impossible for us to be truly be together, but I will take whatever I can get as long as I can keep you in my life."

You were speechless for a moment, astonished by his outpouring of love and devotion to you. Once you collected your thoughts, all you could think to do was crush your lips against his, silently conveying everything you had been feeling for him in return. It only took him seconds for him to return the kiss and deepen it, his arms nearly folding you into him.

"I have fallen madly in love with you, too, Hunter," you revealed once you broke the kiss, "and I don't care what we have to do. I just want to be with you, no matter what. Whatever it takes. I love you, now and always."

Right then and there, the merman kissed his sea star once more, vowing that even though he came from the sea and you from the land, nothing would ever keep you two apart.

Photogirl894's Fluff/Romance prompts

Photogirl894's 1,300 Followers Celebration fics

[blimbo-buddy]

blimbo. blimbo maybe i'm insane but the idea of hollyleaf being dovewing and ivypools mother gave me this amazing idea.

what if she's like the virgin mary. a vessel for starclan, to bring forth two children; one destined to be good, one destined to be evil. she could not have been given powers in her life, so starclan took 'pity' on her, and 'gifted' her with the life of ivy and dove instead.

when she runs into the tunnels, she hits her head on one of the falling rocks and is knocked out. she has a dream, a prophecy...."peace will come on dove's gentle wing". she wakes up, dazed and confused, in almost total darkness, her head still aches from the injury, but she can just barely make out two wriggling, small furry shapes nearby in the caves....two kits, miraculously unharmed from the falling rocks, alone in the tunnels with her.

when she escapes the caves and comes back to thunderclan with dovekit and ivykit, at first cats are pleased to see her return, but when she tells her brothers and firestar prophecy she recieved, the feelings change to rejoice for the kits, not her. the clan treats her as if she has meaning again, as if she is "finally useful", but only for the two children she brought back home, not for herself, not for her own traits or personality or individuality.

she starts to feel resent for dovekit and ivykit, and this resentment and loathing slowly pushes ivykit closer and closer to the eager spirits of the dark forest...

Holy shit wait anon this idea rocks. Imagine looking after two cave babies and then feeling resentment towards them because everybody is rejoicing them instead of you. This idea slaps

[reincarnival]

hi hi! if u have the time could i get an inbox check? :oO

Oh boy anon, you sure can, can!! This will include asks in my inbox, and not requests that are already in my drafts!

Dove Strider Pokemon team

Kirin Care kit

Werecat Care kit

Dimentio Names and Pronouns

Angel fashion kit

Vessel/Goner human Pokemon team

Hisuian Zoroark fashion kit

Backrooms Names and Pronouns

Lop-eared Bunny Care kit

Lop-eared Bunny Fashion kit

Jinx Pokemon team

Sunset Shimmer Pokemon team

Angel Pronouns

Lil Cal Strider Classpect and Land

Tarrant Hightopp Stimboard

Nepeta Leijon Care kit

Taako Fashion kit

Bendy Names

Shadow Person Stimboard

Winged undead fox/wolf Stimboard

Hollyleaf Stimboard

Bendy Fashion kit

Sheep Names and Pronouns

Elytrian Care kit

Maned Wolf Care kit

Maned Wolf Fashion kit

Mr. Wolf Moodboard

White tree frog Fashion kit

Monty Pokemon team

Latias Names

Latias Fashion kit

Ratigan Fashion kit

Bubbles Care/Fashion kit

(O)Possum Fashion kit

Evangelist Stimboard

Seam/Jevil Moodboard

Angel Fashion kit

Emmet Fashion kit

[pinksparklelps]

GOD FUCKING dammit KRIS where the FUCK are we?!

[magiciaa]

I present to you: an absolute babey

bio below the cut

Name: Player

Element: Null

Animal: cat

Power(s): each of her emotions has turned into a separate spirit that can use her as a vessel

Personality: Shy, reserved, cannot feel emotions unless being possessed, if she is possessed she has one emotion dialed up to the extreme

other: can use her scarf as a second pair of hands, prone to being possessed by random ghosts due to the thing that allows her powers to work

[girlwithwolftatoo]

Could I ask for a Arthur Harrow x Reader pet name headcannon?

This is going to be a little shorter, but I hope you like it, anon.

Arthur Harrow + pet names (yup, that kind of pet names): *From you to Arthur: It's complicated, because you see him as your superior. He takes care of you and showers you in love and protection. That makes the word "daddy" the easiest, safest choice. Think about it: while you're with the community, you can either call him dad or papa and nobody will bat an eye, they might think is cute how you see him as your father-like figure. But in private, the soft name turns into a dark, kinky game you secretly enjoy.

*From Arthur to you: Oh, he has a big collection of pet names for you. His personal favorites are "little dove" and "my jewel". In public, he may call you just "little one", and when things are getting more intimate, he gets very poetic, calling you things like "my love vessel" or "my queen/king".

[jsab-au-remix]

Quick drawing of dove without scarf covering face before i start working on my stardew farm

[midnightmoonkiss]

Afjskxjowoe DUDE PIRATE IZUKU IS JUST MMMMMM I DIDN'T KNOW I NEEDED IT UNTIL NOW AND I'M HERE TO CONTRIBUTE

Imagine one poor fellow, new to the crew stumbles upon her when she's in the captain's quarters and Izuku's not there or anything. The guy clearly has no idea that the captain has staked his 'claim' on her, and just curiously approaches her. She get more upset as he comes closer and that's when Izuku hears her cry out from the deck and comes fown to see what the hell is happening.

It does not end well for the poor guy when Izuku sees him over her while she's practically shaking. Bonus points if she clings onto Izuku after the whole thing!

- 🍊 anon

WELCOME TO THE PIRATE DEKU TRAIN!! WE’RE ALL GOIN CRAZY OVER HERE WITH LUST FOR THIS DAMN PIRATE!!!

The second he hears her yelp he’s rushing to his quarters, kicking open the door with such furosity that the whole crew can hear its bang against the wall.

“And just what the hell do you think you’re doing, you rotten, flea bitten, foul bilge rat?”

His green glare is hostile and murderous, hand at the ready to draw his blade and slice the fucker dead, the poor sap who wandered into a lions den shaking in his boots.

“S-sir-!” He sputters, hands raised in cowardly defense, “Sir I-!”

The captains blade was at the mans neck in a heartbeat, coolness of sharp steel nudging him away from Deku’s treasure. Pirates were quite possessive over what was theirs, after all.

A guttural growl reverberated deep in his chest, faced scrunched in anger.

She clung to Izuku’s hips, fear of her own in her innocent eyes as she hid behind her protector, still sitting on the bed.

“What’s your name?” Izuku demanded, venom stinging every dark word uttered.

The newbie was frozen with complete fear, having never expected such an outcome, having expected kindness and understanding from the infamous captain like tales told.

He wasnt expecting a dirty blade to his throat within his first hour aboard the vessel.

The crewman gulps, adams apple kissing the point of the blade, nearly drawing blood. The captains eyes were as cold as the blade itself.

The rest of the crew knew better than to be nosy, and so he was all alone.

“You name.” Izuku repeated with a snarl.

“Mmm.. mm m-my n-name..”

Patience running all too thin, but mercy burning his veins while in front of you, he sheithed his sword, muscular body making the unnamed man look like a toothpick in comparison.

He was shoved out of the quarters, back slamming against the dirty wood of the deck, scrabbling backwards like a mouse who had its tail chopped off.

He stared with fear up at his new captain, who only looked down at him with disgust and hatred.

“Iida!” Izuku called for his first mate, who was quick to respond, “Throw this lilly-livered, mangy swab into the brig.”

“Aye, captain.”

“T-the brig-?!” The crewman cried out, “But I!”

“You entered my quarters without permission after you were trusted enough to step foot onto my ship,” Izuku seethed,

“Welcome aboard the Sleepin Dove.”

With that, Izuku slammed his door shut.

Lesson learned? Curiosity really can kill the cat.

[gojology]

Lovebirds.

𝑨𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓'𝒔 𝑵𝒐𝒕𝒆 |  omg this is my first request. ilysm anon, im now feelin super cool. also, i just realized i put recc (as in recommended) instead of requests. i’m super stupid LOL. anyways, im touch starved too dw bby, i’m servin u up a long one since i rlly like this request and after all u r my first! 𝑷𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 | Gojo x Wife! Reader 𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝑪𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 | 2307 𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 | None! 𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 | Coming home from a long mission in America, precisely 1 year, you’re excited to catch up on Gojo’s students, Nanami, and just Gojo in general.   Leaning out of the car window, resting your arm against your purse, you sighed. A humid wind brushed against your skin, tickling you. It had been quite a while since you had been in Japan, spending almost a year on a huge mission in America. You had killed a battalion worthy amount of special grades.   You spent most of your time in America in mostly horribly rundown places, equally as infested with curses. Although you found yourself enjoying America’s natural beauty, further away from the city life that many of the Americans found themselves enjoying, you much preferred Japan. after all, it was your home, and where you met Gojo Satoru. It would be another day until you could return, and you had gone through hundreds of scenarios of finally being in his arms again, but nonetheless, you were ecstatic at the thought of your husband’s touch.   Your phone’s notification chimed loudly, you threw your phone onto the other seat, heart jumping up to a high rate. It was a recording of Satoru loudly yelling, “OPEN YOUR FUCKING PHONE!” with a flurry of giggles afterwards.    Ijichi jumped, turning left and right. Whispering under his breath, he let out an exasperated sigh, switching the music channel.    The recording was mostly because of the time you had to ghost him due to work. Gojo had snuck on and recorded it, doing some magical tech stuff and giving you the custom notification sound. You had kept it that way ever since, since secretly, you enjoyed that you were so badly wanted by Gojo, that, and you had no idea how to change it back.    But the custom notification was sweet as well.   You smiled to yourself every time you heard it, a familiar twinge of pain flashing inside of you whenever you realized you wouldn’t be able to see him for a while.   Well, today, and the days after that would be different. You’d be able to finally see Gojo again, and his new students that he always frantically texted you about. Nanami, an old friend of Gojo, and also an old friend of yours, would also be there to welcome you back, you found yourself reminiscing about them.   You had heard so much about them, one of the kids being Sukuna’s vessel, you wondered how Gojo could contain such a fear, being around the kid at all times, he always told you about how the kid was actually energetic and happy and an overall great kid, you had heard about Nanami, finally coming back into the jujutsu sorcerer field of work, even though you always found that he still had a thing for finances.   You shook your head, “Save that shit for later, (Y/N).” muttering to yourself, you didn’t want to think of anything but Gojo, after all, it had been one fucking year of being deprived of the man you loved most. You were practically starving for the guy, in more ways than one.   Ijichi gulped, facing towards you, one hand on his steering wheel, “Forgive me Mrs. Satoru, but um.. Forgive me if I misheard, but I think I heard your phones notification go off.. Due to the ah- incredibly loud profanity.”   Now just realizing that you had completely forgotten about the phone notification, you nodded your thanks to Ijichi, a warmth rushing to your cheeks before opening up your phone.    In the small, rounded box containing Gojo’s message, he wrote in all caps, “SUGAR, MY BELOVED, MY QUEEN, HOW CLOSE ARE YOU? I CAN’T FUCKING WAIT I’M LITERALLY BOUNCING UP AND DOWN IN OUR BED.”   Smiling to yourself, you furiously texted back, “Calm down honeybun, I’ll be there in like, 24 hours, I’m not even fucking close.”   You almost instantly got a DM back, making you jump a bit in your seat. Even with the 5 years of friendship, and the 3 years of relationship, and the 2 years of marriage, he still almost always texted you back as quickly as possible.   “God I can’t fucking wait for you to meet the kids! We’ll keep it a surprise, yeah? We have a bunch of treats, and we also got the kids to get some gifts for you! How thoughtful aren’t they? They’re MY offspring by the way, so like, you know, whenever you want a kid, it’s your call ;)”   You snorted to yourself, smiling. He genuinely seemed so excited, and it was all shining through even though it was from a screen.    “Maybe in a few years, I don’t even wanna imagine a little you.”   Despite the excited, bubbling feeling brewing bigger and bigger in your stomach, you figured it’d be best to sleep before the chaos. Happily sighing, you laid down, using your purse as a pillow, drifting into a blissful sleep.  ‧₊˚✩彡.   You awoke to a sudden halt, Looking around your surroundings, you figured you were home. Ijichi looked like he was damn near about to fall asleep on the steering wheel.   Well, maybe that’s what 24 hours of constant driving did to you. You fished around in your purse, silently cursing looking for a water bottle.   “Here, Ijichi, looks like you ran a marathon.” you grinned, handing the slightly crumped water bottle to him.   He beamed as if a guardian angel had descended down and gave him a trillion dollars.   “Mrs. Satoru! You really mean it? The ride was nothing, I was merely instructed to do so and I would’ve done it happily regardless.”   You waved your hand, as a dismissal of the conversation. “You overwork yourself Ijichi, go catch a break, on me. If Gojo tears you apart, tell him he won’t be getting any pussy from me for another year.”   Ichiji nodded vigorously, before dashing off, probably towards a massage center, God that guy needed it. ‧₊˚✩彡.    Gojo frantically hopped up and down, it had been a day, now he was just waiting for you to bust through the door in your wild hair, his legs sprawled onto the whole of a couch, he stared at the ceiling, a dopey smile spread across his face.     “Satoru. (Y/N) will not even want to be associated with you, looking at your current state.” he remarked, staring at the sorcerer with his strikingly dead eyes.     “Nanami, how the fuck am I supposed to act calm?! I’ve waited for this moment for ONE YEAR! Does my hair look normal?!”    “Your hair looks just like an albino porcupine, just as usual.” Flipping the page of his newspaper, he sighed, rubbing his temples. “I will never understand how someone like (Y/N) would be.. Interested in you, Satoru.”     Gojo paid no attention to the insult Nanami had so clearly made, his ears were perked up, eavesdropping on a distant conversation coming closer and closer.     “Gojo-Senpai was telling me about this movie while training my cursed energy! He basically spoiled the whole thing but he told me that the main character was super annoying but apparently she dies in the end in the most gruesome way possible! It’s worth the watch, your soul will feel cleansed as soon as you see her lifeless body!”     “Yuuji, you literally spoiled the whole thing to me just now.” Fushiguro calmly stated, looking bored out of his mind.     “Oh, oops.” Yuuji rubbed the back of his neck. He smiled coyly, tightly hugging his present.    “What’s with the decorations, Gojo-Sensei?” inquired Nobara, stroking her warm toned brown hair. She had figured it was something about the presents that Gojo had forced the trio to get, but he never told them who it was for.    The room had been decorated with various balloons and confetti, scattered about, on the table and the ground. A cake box wrapped with a gigantic bow limply guarded whoever was brave enough to get their hands on something that Gojo seemed to be protecting with his life.    A pink table cover with a crudely drawn Gojo and what would seem to be a girl, a heart in the middle of the pair. In a horrible font with an even awfuller text, the text on top and at the bottom of the drawing proudly stated:    “WELCOME BACK QT”    “-YOU’RE HUSBAND AND THE CREW”    Nobara stood in distaste, trying to disguise the face she made. The drawing, the misused you’re, and the overall poor design choice was enough to almost make her vomit.     Nobara, about to make her distasteful statements about the whole mess, was suddenly shut up as Gojo started hopping up and down, looking directly at his phone.   “SHE’S COMING! SHE’S COMING! EVERYONE IN YOUR PLACES!”    Now, seeing Gojo freak out wasn’t outside of the ordinary, but it was to see him freak out to this extent. He was hopping up and down, blabbering about a certain woman named (Y/N). Nobara was pretty sure that if a curse attacked right now, even a special grade comparable to the one with the uncomplete domain could completely crush Gojo, the guy seemed completely unaware of the example he was setting to the kids. Even Yuuji stood in disbelief, and he had seen multiple tantrums by Gojo.   Nanami, however, licked his finger and flipped the newspaper page. A face of boredom obviously displayed.     Nobara, preparing herself to chew Gojo out about how utterly stupid and embarrassing he made the whole class of jujutsu sorcerers look like, stopped wide eyed as she looked at the doors slide wide open. ‧₊˚✩彡.    You stood, shyly, looking at the ground. Gojo dove headfirst into your arms, laughing like a maniac and digging his face into your shoulder. You breathed in his scent, scanning the room.     Three teens, sat wide-eyed, backs straight as they looked at you with eyes you couldn’t quite read. All three of them held presents.     The one with eyelids underneath his eyes (which you assumed was Yuuji, the vessel of Sukuna) eyed you curiously, his eye twitched.     The other boy, one with wild black-blue hair, sat mouth agape, before closing it. He looked like he was about to say something, before stopping entirely and hugging his present closer to his chest.    The warm haired girl darted her eyes between you two, seemingly trying to put the puzzle together.     Nanami put the newspaper down, glancing over to you two.    “This is obviously Gojo-Senpai’s wife. He hasn’t seen her in many months, and as you can see, really really misses her.” he paused, a small smile spreading on his face, a rare sight.     “I don’t even know why myself, but what can you do with lovebirds?” he thought aloud, his attention now focused to the two of you furiously making out, hands in places Yuuji and the crew didn’t need to see.    “Satoru, (Y/N), leave the kissing for later. Don’t you see the kids?”     You detached yourself from his mouth, panting for breath. The air being exhaled out of his nose fanned over your face, you had just now realized the kids again.     “Satoru, lets sit down. I bet the kids are surprised. “ you motioned to the couch. Gojo whined.     “What? They’re not that dumb, they can tell you’re my wife or at least, you’re my girlfriend, just by the way we kiss right? Isn’t this telling enough?”     “You didn’t tell them about me, ever did you?”     He sighed in defeat, holding tightly onto your arm as you dragged him over and sat down on the comfortable couch, opposite of Yuuji and the crew. Nanami scooched over, before finally getting up to pull another chair from somewhere else. Grunting, he excused himself from the room.     “YOU HAD A GIRLFRIEND, GOJO-SENPAI? AND DIDN’T TELL US?” Yuuji questioned, looking like he was about to faint.    Gojo laughed, snuggling deeper onto you, almost like a koala.     “She’s my wife, aren’t you, sugar? Did you even pay attention to anything Nanami said? He literally said she was my wife.”     Megumi made an obvious gagging sound, but even he didn’t seem as bored as he was usually. He actually looked intrigued.     “Why didn’t you tell us, Gojo-Senpai?” the girl nagged, slamming her fist down on the table.     Gojo smiled, “Uh, well, I wanted it to be a surprise when she came back.”     “Couldn’t you have told us that you had a wife or something?” Megumi butt in.    The door slid open, Nanami coming in with a wooden stool.     “Knowing Gojo-Senpai, that probably went over his head.” grunting as he placed the wooden stool down and sat, he opened his newspaper again.     “Where do you guys know eachother?”    “Was Gojo-Senpai handsome back in highschool too?”    “Do you know what lipgloss Gojo-Senpai wears?”    “Gojo-Senpai, how did you know you loved her?”     “Gojo-Senpai, can we eat now?”     “Do you know why Gojo has such a horrible sweet tooth?”      Before you could even respond, Nanami put his hand up.     “Now, now, lets let the happy couple settle down.” he cleard his throat, not even making eye contact with anyone but the newspaper.     An audible chorus of groans sounded, “What do you expect us to do? We literally just met her!” moaned Yuuji.    “Weren’t you the one that literally asked if we could eat yet?”    Yuuji immediately shut up afterwards.     “Yuuji, she just came back from a 1 day trip. She should be laying down comfortably with Gojo-Senpai and they should be catching up. You’ll have the opportunity to talk to her and learn about her later. Right now she needs space.”    “But-” Nobara whined, clasping her hands together.    Nanami turned to Fushiguro, but even he had his mind set. “I didn’t even begin to think that Gojo had a wife. I really want to know more about her, if you think about it, this is all Gojo-Sensei’s fault.”    Nanami rubbed his temples, staring at the two of you for backup, realizing that you two were making out again.    Nanami sighed, 10 years later and you two were still the same.    

[ofallthingsnasty]

I think we are the same person because Overhaul got me into writing dead dove too. I felt like at the time not many people were writing him how I see him- more than a germaphobe whose afraid to get dirty.

Also I totally get you. I don't think he's a medical professional at all, but I do think he has a fetish for it (or maybe I'm just projecting LOL.) I think medicine is more of a "hobby" for him. Like a mad scientist. He reads about surgery and thinks about trying them out. I mean, nothing can really go wrong considering his quirk. Like if he maims you too bad then poof don't worry.

Omg you're crazy cool btw. I can't imagine being able to do that sort of stuff. I'm thankful people like you exist! Also you'd hate me, I need my wisdom teeth removed but I'm afraid of doctors. (Ironic I know 😭)

He would totally use catheters even when completely unnecessary. You don't want to pee infront of him? Guess what. Catheter time. LOL. Going on a long trip with him? You obviously can't control yourself. Guess what. Catheter time. He'd probably keep it taped to your thigh with a cute bandaid if you're lucky. Maybe cover it with a frilly garter. He'd probably talk really loudly about how you need to be checked and pull your dress up to feel around your tummy. He'd push around your full bladder and say stuff like "Why didn't you tell me you needed to go. This is exactly why we have to do this." Even though he was the one who made you drink all that water and ignored you when you tried to tell him that you needed to go.

You probably wet yourself in fear the first time you met him, maybe he exploded some people infront of you and you just couldn't stop it. Now he has to take care of you 😔 You're so interesting and clearly broken.

Overhaul is really the perfect vessel for gross fetishes. He'd probably get hard giving you a regular ultrasound- let alone a transvaginal one. My gosh I want his gloved fingers in my mouth so bad, just tugging my lips apart 😭 BLAH he sucks. ❤️

Also, another random headcanon I have is that he'd like to use general anesthesia. For fun. He'd force you to inhale some weird smelling stuff while you struggle and then you'd wake up with him all like :) next to you LOL.

anon shajdhsajk- you NEED to share your writing, your thoughts are making me sweat over here (only if you're comfy with it of course sgahgds) oh and i get my last two wisdom teeth removed in three weeks -- you can do it too!! i believe in you 💖 tw. piss, malpractice, medical stuff

The way he'd be a total butcher... 😭 You need a whole team to perform surgeries and he... has Hari? That's probably it. I think you'd probably die a few times because that even happens in OMS surgeries and when you have to do five jobs at once it's pretty much guaranteed. Just imagine suddenly waking up on that table with a slightly sweaty Overhaul hovering over you because he had to be quick 😭 His quirk really is failsafe- but that also means that he'd experiment on you until he gets the hang of it. Books are all nice and dandy but seeing the real thing is SO different. There is blood everywhere and it's all pink and red and structures vary from body to body. (And he just tries again and again and again.) Just imagine waking up and not being able to move the right side of your face because he cut through some strands of your facial nerve (or something worse, like completely bling or unable to move some limbs). And of course, he could overhaul you but he could also leave you like this a little longer as a punishment (when it fits-) The possibilities are endless and terrifying. 🥴 And omg I had to laugh so hard at the mental image of him being all smiley after surgery - just, him doing that little animal crossing villager happy face but it's totally fake because that man just can't smile to save his life aghasgh - and you're all groggy and out of it, trying to comprehend what's happening. Just staring at him for a solid minute until it clicks. Thank you thank you thank you for sharing more catheter thoughts, I am salivating over them. Ugh the way he's obnoxiously into it 🥴 I just want to be babied like that, okay? Can't even be trusted to use the toilet, one of the most basic things ever hhhh And yeah - the wetting during the first meeting fits sooo well. You, a grown adult, wetting yourself in front of him? God, you're pathetic. Just look at you standing there - trembling, snot and tears all over your face, a puddle of piss at your feet… It IS kinda cute and you don't even run. Of course he has to take you with him, that isn't even a question 🥺

Also may I run away with that catheter idea (with credit of course)? I couldn't stop thinking about it after I answered your ask 'yesterday' (2 am for me haha) and I researched a lot… I'd love to write a short blurb about it, because I am just SO in love with that idea, goodness 😳💖 It just really scratches an itch I didn't know I had hhhh. I am going crazy over this, for real 😳

[filthfichunter]

The time of Witchers ended, but the Witchers didn't. Instead of killing the Witchers, the mages took them to use. to be milked for their cum and breastmilk to make potions and such, and be incubators, ass and magicked cunts, for their experiments and rare monsters. They learned the secret to changing Witchers and make as many as they need, the younger the better, because it gives more time for breeding them. They get used by anything and everything. stuffed full all the time and never free

Find the full fill here on AO3

Well Anon, I kinda just took the inspiration from your original prompt, and then as I tend to, got stuck in the "Explore How This Works" fussing around.

A DeadDoveDoNotEat exploration of the trials and training of Witcher trainees. What actually does happen to those that fail? #WhatHappensDuringTheTrialsStaysInTheTrials

The Brotherhood of Sorcerers setting up Witcher's training and creation to cultivate resilient fuck pets.

Seriously DeadDoveDoNotEat here.

More tiny vignettes based around the prompt. Sorry Anon, I'm apparently incapable of doing a short succinct fill without getting sucked into the larger "What If" spit balling.

*Geralt and Eskel aren't given an age here, but the fate of younger witcher trainees is explored, so I'm marking this underage but there actually isn't any graphic underage smut here, just magic users acting badly.

Content Warnings: Gangbang Not Safe Sane and Consensual Dead Dove: Do Not Eat Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con Trauma Object Penetration Dildos Fucking Machines Come Inflation Object Insertion Underage* - Grooming Anal Fisting Rimming Evil Plans

--- The True Fate of Failed Witcher Initiates ---

Less than one in ten boys that started their training to become a Witcher in the Wolf School at Kaer Morhen reached their last trial.

Geralt's school had always had one of the better survival rates, down mostly to the care and teaching from older Witcher instructors. If you survived your maiming and made it home alive you helped teach the next generation to avoid your mistakes.

Of those that did make it to the last trial before becoming a fully trained Witcher, it's was an even coin toss on their longer term survival rate. If they survived their last infusion of mutagens and chaos magic from the sorcerers, and lived through their first year on the Path most Witchers were likely to continue to survive baring the accidents and fatalities intrinsically tied to the vocation of course.

The Brotherhood of Sorcerers had use for Witcher's and were careful in how they grew each successive generation. Manipulating their concoctions and methods between each batch of initiates.

For all of the copius research notes that most of the sorcerers and magic users kept, it was still unknown who that first mage had been, or why they had decided to create a creature like a Witcher.

There were plenty of initiates across all of the various schools - the levels of attrition never really impacted the scale and scope of the Witchering work needing to be done compared to the trained workforce carrying out that work.

It wouldn't do to flood the market with too many new graduates when new jobs had statistically been on the down turn since the time of the great confluence.

If every Child Suprise, bartered third son, orphan or runaway that made it through the doors of the mountain keep of Kaer Morhen had been successful there would be too many of their mutant ilk, and the continent would be over run with too many Witchers and not enough work to keep them all employed and occupied not causing trouble for their betters.

The mages made certain to keep the numbers balanced.

It was no tragic circumstance that accounted for the total number of failed initiates. It wasn't just a cruel trick of fate that saw most of the number of boys thinned out early on in their training. It was down to the appetites of the mages in charge of creating new Witchers.

The more beautiful or submissive or sweet a boy, the more likely they would 'die' at their trial, or if the sorcerer was particularly horny it was likely their favorite would 'die' during a freak training accident.

No one ever saw the boys who didn't return from their trials or from the special healing rooms of the magic users who rotated through the Witcher schools.

They all heard the screams, could scent the distress and pain, but the one mercy the magic users gave to the Witchers was dealing with their failed boys.

There was no graveyard in Kaer Morhen.

The 'dead' were wisked away through portals to workshops and towers. The remains studied and used to tweak and feed the mutegens used on the next batch, the next trial, the next boy. At least that's what everyone thought.

The training even before the first trial made the boys lithe, strong and flexible. The physical drills and magical practice left them open to suggestion, helped along by a regiment of potions and tinctures.

The Brotherhood of Sorcerers helped raise a delectable and hardy stock of fuck pets.

It was a fun gig 'helping out' at a training school. If you were frequently involved in cultivating the new herd you had your pick of the boys. Most magic users had a predilection for sadomasochism and used their toys roughly. Centuries of sexual exploration of their appetites, boredom and unchecked magical power a dangerous combination.

The genius that thought to grow a cabal of fuck toys that could also help police the failed experiments and monsters that the Brotherhood's other experiments often created was a bonus.

Less work dealing with irate townspeople, more time on pleasure projects.

Stregobor was a prime example. He was known to have at least two nubile little Witcherlings in stasis if not actively being used in each of his tower strong holds at any given time. The boys would see to his pleasure, help in his experiments and rituals and then when they grew too damaged or boring he would trade them out for a new set. He'd almost single handedly depopulated the Cat School because of his appetite for little cat boys and disregard for the numbers needed to maintain the population.

The Cat School was considered particularly unhinged by the other school's of Witchers, another PR win by the sorcerers, it would not do for their pets to be too friendly with one another and start comparing notes.

Better they doubt one another and remain weary.

Anytime the secret got close to being figured out the Brotherhood would agree to cull the majority of the herd and start again if enough of them were still interested in heading up the Witcher sub committee or needed vessels for other projects.

Witcher Trials and Training:

Geralt and Eskel were the only two left in their age group when they were taken for special training in advance of their trials. If they did well, they might even receive extra instruction.

No one talked about their training sessions with the sorcerers. Or when asked couldn't share what their experience had been, unwilling or unable to recall what trials or training they had undergone.

Both had prepared in advance for the week they would spend in testing, by eating well doubling up on their stretches and conditioning.

When they both were returned everyone was too happy to see them alive to ask questions.

The physical proof of their hardships was evident to all, Geralt's hair gone white and Eskel with a limp that would take weeks of long soaks in the hotsprings and regular stretching, balm and massage to remedy.

There are only half memories and impressions they remember. More sensation and pressure, everything hazy and seemingly impossible.

Things they whisper to each other in their shared quarters, unsure if what they remember was reality or a shared fever dream brought about from their shared experience and love for one another.

Things they'll not discuss years later across campfires and in rooms at inns.

Experiences hard carved into their psyches, Eskel more reckless, Geralt more quiet and terse. Both prone to insomnia and short tempers.

They scrabble confidently together down over the back of the mountain keep toward a portal that will take them to a training evaluation and then, if they are lucky/unlucky a final trial together.

They'll be gone a week, or forever.

The long arms of the fucking machine engaged them both- halfway between where Geral and Eskel were both strapped down on breeding benches, limbs bound and their tits, asses and cocks made accessible.

The thrusting was constant and fast, cum churning up in their bellies, the large ballons wisk attachment similar to something found in bakeries- buried deeply in their guts, battering their insides, bashing their swollen prostates with each revolution.

Groans and cries over shadowed by a mechanical grinding of the machine, and the squelching sound as more and more fluid was introduced through the hollow handle of the device down into their bellies.

A robed figure came to periodically to check on them. Pulled the wide open balloon part of the wisk part way out. It's widest point would strain their assholes open obscenely wide, the chasma of their pink inside on display as more cum and icy cold potions were funneled into their depths.

Expanding and solidifying into an important alchemical agent.

Overfull and over stimulated holding on to one another pressed bloated belly to bloated belly sobbing as they tried to expell the contents packed so tightly in their bodies.

Desperate for one another after such a long session strapped down to their individual benches, so close to one another but unable to touch each other for reassurance as the volume inside them increased and their throats gave out dehydrated and unable to offer encouragement to each other.

Geralt chapped lips sealed around Eskel's ass hole frantically lapping and sucking racing to save his best friend, his brother from the rising toxicity of the solution still stuck inside.

The previously tightly furled hole, (something they would tap shyly on when exchanging blow jobs and hand jobs in their shared quarters) was swollen so much no wrinkles remained.

It was tighter than ever before, raw from frictions and stimulation. Acting as a barrier, keeping the massive solution retained behind, poisoning Eskel.

A crescendoing cascade of noise: squealing from Eskel, and slurping from Geralt who had to work frantically sucking the last of the solution out, spitting globs of thick mixture into the catchment bucket before diving face first back between the other boys cheeks.

Both their veins getting darker and darker as the toxicity spread.

Elbow deep in Eskel, drawing the last of it out, his friend's hiccuping cries and the very real throbbing pulse squeezing in time to the beat of Eskel's heart surounding him like a living glove.

The shuddering rhythm assuring him that they were both still alive.

Two pale pairs of buttocks crashing together, sharing a monsterously large double sided dildo.

The Sorcerers in charge of them making gestures and signs, causing the penetration to increase in both breadth and width.

Eskelin a crumpled ball, ass proped on folded slightly sprawled knees, face smashed bloody on the ground from when his arms and consciousness gave out.

Geralt straddled over and above the larger boy, taking more and more of the vibrating phallus deeper into himself- saving his friend more pain, even if he isn't awake to feel it, letting him rest.

The sting of over worked muscles and sweat running over open abrasions, thighs straining as he has to raise and squat down endlessly.

Both of their butt cheeks chaffed, red hot and bruised from the repeated impact and friction of slamming together.

The clapping of their asses accompanying the clapping and rasping sound of those watching stroking their own cocks along at the same pace.

The end of the dildo pulsing and expanding twisted so deep into him he is certain he'll choke on it before the Sorcerers who are watching are satisfied. -

Waking up alone certain that Eskel must be dead, must have failed the trials. -

Going through a second set of trials. -

His hair going white, the only outward sign his body is able to give, the only visible record of the trauma of his second lonely trial.

The relief, both felt at seeing each other again alive. Geralt and Eskel quiet and solem under the eyes of the Brotherhood of Sorcerers. Both thanking them for administering their training and trials. Both turning to travel back up the mountain over the path named Killer back to Kaer Morhen and hopefully to a future where they will now both be on a Path together. -

Whenever they are within each other's orbit they'll always Interlock their fingers grasping tightly, fingers laid against one another's pulse points, just checking to make certain.

Gladthey survived where so many other initiates died and were lost forever.

Not knowing that scores of their number still lived locked under spell and command, still existing in an unending trial.

[borisvonshweet]

Info: Creepy Crawly -Nonbinary -Pronouns: Spider, It, They -Aro/Ace, So no real lovey dove stuff Skitter witter -Male -Pronouns: He/Him Sometimes he gose by It -Closet Gay, He panics a l o t Coinky Dinky(Vessel) -Genderfluid -Pronouns(Depends): He/him/She/Her/They/Them -Pansexual 100% Coinky Dinky(Monkey) -Male, Non-gender Conforming -Pronouns: He him -pansexuall Coinky Dinky(Voxie) -Female Tipping into Nonbinary Territory -Pronouns: They/Them, Xe/Xem she/her -paaaaaansexual Ven -Male, Also non-gender conformant -Pronouns: He/Him -Raaging Bisexual with a bat Quist -Female -pronouns: She/her, They/Them -Stra, H A H No She a lesbian Kevin -Trans male -Pronouns: He/Him -Pan man but Ace aswell Ask Rules -M/Anons are aloud depending on what they are -SFW asks, Flirting is fine with the characters that allow flirting just keep it pg -Follow my pinned post about interactions Writing Prompt Rules(For more general stuff not just my oc's) -Sfw as always, i don't do smut/lemons -Specify if you want it literal or bullet points -Angst is a plausible prompt as long as it follows my interaction rules -You can give me an insert oc name and pronouns if you want