#this is not a triad.... Yet at least

[the-ebonarm]

The dovahkiin has

Two Hands

[lady-disdain221b]

[gravitywonagain]

Ch. 19 of Words are Gonna Bleed from Me is up!

Nie Huaisang leans forward, elbows on the table, spinning their fan in one hand. “And speaking of that help…” “Yes,” Wei Wuxian says, setting down the half-empty pitcher and folding his hands together. “Zewu-jun, Chifeng-zun, everybody. I believe it’s time I told you what I found in Meng Yao’s study.” ~Or: An impromptu triad conference in the Unclean Realm.

[harmcnia-gropius]

♡ tag dump ♡

[zylphiacrowley]

Every night I pray to Yoshi P for a new phys ranged job.

[ozzgin]

Yandere! Yakuza x Reader (V)

In a rather unlucky turn of events, you find yourself kidnapped for being in the wrong place during a gang war. Worry not, your yakuza boyfriend is at your service. Yet another bloody reason not to mess with him.

Content: female reader, organized crime, violence, gore, obsessive behavior

[Part 4] | [Yakuza Masterlist]

"Damn it!"

The scarred man throws another tile into the pile, clicking his tongue.

"I gotta say, you're pretty good for a foreigner." A second man with an eyepatch remarks, carefully inspecting his set before retrieving a tile of his own. "Pung."

You take another greedy sip of the cheap sake and slam the little cup back on the table.

"Kind of inevitable to learn mahjong when your only friends in this country are yakuza." You look up towards your captor with a frown. "You guys ever heard of board games or something?"

"Try to explain new rules to this dumbass!" A third man angrily pours himself another glass, pointing towards the first. "Fuck, I could iron clothes on that smooth brain of yours!"

"Fuck off, you're not any better." The scarred man continues his turn with furrowed brows. 

"If I were you I'd keep quiet about being pals with the yakuza. They'll question you, too, after the office guy. Don't make it worse." The man wearing an eyepatch mentions in a lowered voice. The table suddenly goes quiet.

"When is he coming out?" You ask hesitantly, bile pooling in your mouth. You already suspect the answer.

"He's not. Bodies are discarded through the back entrance." He pats the ash off and takes another drag off his cigarette. 

You swallow. 

Being involved with the Triad was not part of your new year resolutions, yet here you are about to be interrogated by the local Chinese syndicate. At least the lackeys have taken pity on you, a poor civilian caught in the middle of their rivalry. Hence the fake sense of normalcy as you chitchat at the mahjong table with a cup of sake to ease your wrecked nerves. 

"I'm guessing they won't be as friendly back there." You nod towards the door, where they took your work superior several hours ago. 

"No." 

That's all you get and you can only smile bitterly. Huh. You wonder if this is how Daitou's victims feel, helplessly waiting for whatever is brought upon them. Having to watch him unwrap his tool belt, stuffed with rusty old tools littered in blotches of dried up blood. Pondering his questions while he eyes the row delectably, hovering his hand over the potential ways to loosen up the tongue.

Would they torture you, too? Hopefully not. It should be rather obvious you're just a mere civilian. Then again, if your work superior mentioned anything about you being Daitou's girlfriend...He's never told you anything downright incriminating, but it'll be hard to convince these fellows that you truly are clueless.

Maybe they'll let you go if you offer your finger as a token of peace. Your forehead wrinkles at the thought. Isn't it more of a Japanese custom anyways? And if they say yes, then what? Do they provide you with the required utensils or are you expected to improvise on the spot?

You remember one of Daitou's seniors describing the process in great detail during the Christmas party. You had asked him about it, purely out of curiosity, and he certainly delivered almost more than your stomach was able to handle (Daitou scolded him later for telling you too much). You take the tatami mat and preferably wrap it in cloth, to soak up the blood. Any sharp blade will do, but traditionally you'd be offered a proper tantō that can easily slice through the bone. Obviously you want to cut as little as possible, so you still have some functionality remaining. Right above the joint. You must put all of your body weight into the thrust, otherwise the cut won't be clean and it turns into a mess. 

Hell. You wipe the cold beads of sweat that have formed on your face. You can barely chop an onion. Maybe one of the gangsters has enough experience and goodwill to offer to do it for you. Then you only have to clench your teeth and prepare for the blow. It can't be that bad. Surely the shock will be too great, and your brain won't even register it. Before you know it, they'll dip your hand in ice and rush you to someone fit to perform the aftercare. Yeah. That should to the trick. 

"Hey, foreigner. It's your turn."

"Leave her be, can't you see she's pale?"

You glance up and notice the men looking at you expectantly. They've already showed you plenty of kindness from the moment they shoved you in that black van with the rest of the office workers. Perhaps you can rely on them one final time. You suddenly bow, head pressing against the table. They're somewhat startled by your gesture. 

"I'm deeply sorry to ask, but might any of you be knowledgeable in blades?"

"H-huh? What for?"

You ceremoniously slam your hand onto the table, rattling the mahjong tiles. You struggle to let the words out, but try to maintain a straight face, picturing Shozo Hirono's cool attitude when he performed the deed himself in Battles without Honor and Humanity. 

"Would your Boss be satisfied with a yubitsume? I cannot offer anything else of use."

You feel a harsh hand smack against the back of your neck and you cough, taken out of your focus.

"Dumbass! What the hell are you talking about? Why would our Boss need the finger of a civilian, and a woman on top of that? 笨人!" The man with an eyepatch is red and flustered as he scolds you. The other two are holding back their snickers, amused by the scene.

"Let her! I have a knife on me right now." The scarred man comments with a grin. "Whaddaya say, kid? Or have you changed your mind already?"

"A man never goes back on his word." You bark and straighten your back, crossing your arms imposingly. 

The eyepatch man smacks you again and the other two begin clapping, terribly entertained by your tomfoolery. 

The spectacle doesn't last long. Within seconds, you jump out of your seat at the sound of rapid gunshots and scattered, erratic shouts.

Daitou bows before his Seniors and mumbles a polite, monotonous greeting. It's highly unusual to have the Lieutenants gathered at the office like this. Kazuya is fidgeting in his seat, Boss is away on a trip. What else could require everyone's immediate attendance? He makes his way to the blonde man and drops himself on the sofa, awaiting the details. 

"Wakasugi has been taken."

A chaotic murmur ensues. 

"He's been making offers for a building in a neutral area. That's where the Chinese sell their drugs and they claim it to be their turf. I hear some of our newbies got caught dealing that shit as well. Boss has been on their throats for some time now and this is their way to say fuck you."

Ah. More gang rivalry drama. Daitou presses his lips together, trying his best to hold back a yawn threatening to escape his mouth. Hopefully they'll leave him out of it, he has a date planned with you and he'd rather not show up reeking of rotten flesh. 

If you get kidnapped, think of yourself as already dead. The Yakuza doesn't negotiate. They just get their revenge tenfold. Unless it's someone important, like the Boss himself, the honorable way is to die without betraying your Family. 

"Just put a few bullets in them. Should teach them a lesson." He says while stretching. 

"Yeah, we're sending Oota and his men to deal with it. Just be on the lookout." One of the Seniors responds. 

"Still, the fucking guts on them. To show up at the office, right before our eyes-" Another man cries out, frustration in his voice.

"What did you say?" 

Kazuya flinches. He knows where this is going and he glares at the outraged yakuza, trying to silence him. Sadly he doesn't take the hint.

"Right? They just waltzed in, shot some of our guys and took Wakasugi and whoever was nearby. Heh, what are they gonna do with a bunch of office assistants? Extra weight to carry to the dump."

"Enough!" Kazuya's exasperated yell causes everyone to quiet down.

There are several confused looks being exchanged before everyone's eyes eventually rest on Daitou, now staring ahead motionless. Didn't his girlfriend work at that office? The Senior giving out the initial order has realized the mistake. He quickly clears his throat and is about to speak, but Daitou abruptly stands up and heads for the door.

"Oi! I said we're leaving it to Oota. This isn't your job." 

He tries to repeat his words with confidence, but his voice falters towards the end when faced with Daitou's massive frame. Particularly the barrel that's now pressing into his forehead.

"Mind your fucking business or I'll kill you right here." Daitou threatens.

"D-don't think Boss will help you out of this one, brat. If you go, you're disobeying your Senior."

The tall yakuza smirks mockingly. 

"See if you can run for Boss with your skull split open, bitch."

Kazuya slaps the gun aside and steps between the men.

"Just let him go. I'll take responsibility." He pleads, his friend already slamming the door behind him. 

Once the aggressor has left, everyone exhales discreetly in relief.

"He'll get us in trouble with the cops." The Senior retorts to the blonde in a berating tone.

"What else do you suggest? You know there's no way around it if he's pissed."

No one replies to what seems to be an universally agreed upon truth.

He blows out the smoke and crushes the cigarette under his foot. Fuck. He needs to calm down. They most likely haven't killed you, but if they laid a single hand on you...He's blacking out again. Whatever blinding rage possessed him back in his youth, when his Boss got wounded, would now pale in comparison. His ears are ringing and his vision is foggy. He can't even recall how he made it to their building. Or how he got past the guards. Although that one's easy to figure out, judging from their twisted throats. 

He checks his rounds one final time and kicks the heavy metal door open. Only about a dozen of them, but no sign of you yet. Should take a minute. It is time for him to pay his respects. 

"What the fuck was that?" the scarred man swiftly takes out his weapon and knocks the stool over with his foot.

If it is who you think it is...Your face twists in fear.

"Listen, you've been nice to me so I don't want to see you dead. Could you...could you leave, please? It might be someone I know and I promise you there's no point in fighting back."

The noticeable quiver in your speech might lead one to believe you're awaiting your executioner, not your savior and boyfriend. But you've seen Daitou angry and the ordeal flooded the very marrow of your bones with terror. Naturally he could never be upset at his darling for any reason, ever. Whoever poses a threat to you, however, can't say the same thing. You remember trying to pull him back from a random drunk that had groped you during an outing, and he tightly gripped your jaw with a bloodied hand and nearly ordered you in a ragged growl: "Hey. I said I'll be done in a moment. Be a good girl and close your eyes." 

Thus, from experience, you know he'd never listen to your pleas. Maybe if he was lucid enough, but not in this manic state. The man wearing an eyepatch scans your expression attentively. Your worry is genuine and the other room is gradually becoming quieter, but not in a way that'd inspire him confidence. He certainly doesn't feel like dying today and there's nothing honorable about throwing yourself into a senseless battle. He nods at the other two men and he asks you one last time if you'll be fine by yourself, to which you shake your head vehemently. Please go away already. 

The final obstacle crumbles under Daitou's weight and you fiddle with your glass, alone, at the mahjong table. He seems to be taken aback, and once he confirms you're not in any pain or discomfort, his demeanor switches within an instant. 

"Where's everyone?"

"They ran away."

"Just like that? And left you here?" He stares at you, baffled.

"Maybe there's some still in the back. These ones left because I asked them to."

He approaches you, still bewildered and confused. He looks like a lost dog.

"What? They were nice to me and I didn't want you to kill them. You never listen when I tell you to stop." You huff, pouting and folding your arms.

"Sorry. I got a little bit anxious." He kneels before you and extends a hand apologetically. "Friends again?"

"Wash your hands at least, I don't want to know what organ remains you have stuck through your fingers."

He chuckles and wipes the palm against his shirt. You follow his movements and notice the bullet wounds near the ribcage. This madman. You speedily bend to his level and remove his jacket to inspect the injuries.

"Christ. Take off your shirt and let's at least stop the bleeding before we leave. How the hell can you still stand with all these holes in you?"

Daitou unbuttons his shirt obediently and you try to wrap it around his abdomen. You notice the thick, wide scar crossing his stomach, presently smeared with blood. Either his or someone else's. 

"Now that I think about it, how did you get this scar? From a gang fight as well?"

"Oh no, I got this in prison. I was supposed to serve many more years, but one of the Seniors rang and said Boss needs me for something. They were in talks with the police chief to maybe bribe my way out. 

But I felt terrible knowing that Boss would be wasting money on my mistakes. At the time the place was overcrowded, so I figured they'd let me out for medical emergencies. So I cut my stomach open and they counted it as a suicide attempt." He responds with a proud grin. 

You grimace a little at the mental image. 

The cloth has been tightly, albeit clumsily secured around his gashes and you both get up. It occurs to you that throughout this mess you haven't feared for your life once. It feels like Daitou is always there to get you out of trouble. Despite his unorthodox methods.

You gaze up at him and notice the prosthetic eye has rolled inwards, so you adjust it slightly with your finger. He follows your romantic gesture with a quick peck on the lips. 

"You'll get yourself killed one day." You whine, tired.

"And leave you alone? Never. You're stuck with me for life."

He flashes you a wide smile and pats your head.

"Can we still go on that date?" The yakuza suddenly remembers, guiding you as you zigzag your way among fresh corpses.

So he hasn't forgotten. A faint blush dusts your cheeks.

"Sure, but I'd like to have a bath first."

"Then let's have one together." He suggests cheerfully, completely unbothered by whatever just happened.  

Tags: @yandere-city2 @lokiofasgard12 @zeniiis @lucienbarkbark @channelinglament @your-next-daydream @bath1lda @murder-hobo @zanzie

[sapphicmsmarvel]

feysand: getting together

feyre and rhysand discover the beauty of triad-bonds. no smut, all fluff, a sprinkle of angst.

buckle in we got a long ride (3K but hey this is long for me)

- It was interesting how you three got together. 

- Of course Rhysand initially thought that he and Feyre got together first out of the three of you.  

- No. You and Feyre lost your virginities together, and had your first kisses together. 

- She calls you her first love, always has. 

-Rhysand has always found you interesting, you were an angel compared to Nesta and Elain. When Feyre had come back to the mortal lands, you were the only one to look at her with relief. He could practically taste it as you brought her into your arms and cried into her hair. 

“Oh, my love. Whose ass am I kicking?” 

He didn’t miss the nickname, nor the way Feyre glowed after you called her that. Or how you never left her side. 

It was the first time he had heard Feyre giggle. 

So he knew right then and there he was going to protect you no matter what. That opinion was solidified when you welcomed them in with open arms, no questions. Then, you snapped at Nesta on their behalf. 

He remembers when he asked you why you let them in so easily. You had shrugged and said, “Feyre trusts you. I trust you.”

It was…interesting to say the least. If he wasn’t so smitten with Feyre he’ll admit that he could fall for you. 

-One night, after the war, after Cassian and Nestas' mating ceremony and baby Nyx’s birth; the two of them laid in bed with the babe cuddled into Feyre’s chest. He asked the question he had been dying to ask. “Were you and Y/N ever….?” 

She looked at him as if she was nervous, “yes.” She whispered, her voice small. “Is that a problem?”

“No!” Rhysand whispered fervently. Quietly enough to not wake Nyx, but loud enough that it showed how much he meant it. “I’ve always had a feeling.” 

She sighed, tears brimming her eyes, “gods these stupid hormones.” 

He wiped her tears. “I’m not mad.” 

“I know. But…” she shook her head. “It’s really scary.” 

“We don’t have to talk about it.” 

“No, I want to. But I also want to show memories, so you can….understand why I don’t ever want her to leave my life.” 

“I mean, I don’t know her nearly as well, yet I don’t want her to leave my life either. She’s….” He didn’t know how to finish that sentence, and if Feyre didn’t feel the exact same way, she might’ve nailed his dick to the wall.  

“Yeah.” She sighed. “She has a way of captivating people.” 

He felt her brush against his shields, and he opened up to her. 

“We met when we were five years old. Around age six, I declared I was going to marry her. Everyone laughed at me, but when I told her that she just smiled and said, ‘I want to marry you too’. Of course, we were six years old, we didn’t know any better. All throughout our childhood we shared a bond, I thought my entire life she was my soulmate.” 

As Feyre spoke, Rhysand saw her weave the tale of you two. 

“Then, I fell for Tamlin, and then you. I wouldn’t trade you for anyone. But she’s always stayed in my heart. When we went back to the village to see my sisters, I was more nervous to see her. Nesta and Elain rejected me my entire life, she was the one person that never did. I don't know what I would’ve done if she looked at me like that. Like I was a monster.”  

He then felt the happiness that Feyre felt that day when you took her into your arms. He could feel the tears that hit Feyres neck as you cried. Your perfume seemed to have a mind of its own and weave around her. He was in Feyre’s head, he wasn’t sure if he ever wanted to leave this embrace. 

As the night went on, she shared more memories of the two of you. He could feel his heart glowing as he saw you two laugh and grow together. 

- When Feyre was gone, you had found him in the backyard of the townhouse. He was drinking a glass of fae wine. You sat down next to him. 

“You know Feyre would call me a sap for being worried about her.” You started. 

He could almost laugh at that. It fits. “She’d also probably hit you.” 

“Oh yeah, maybe with her shoe?” He whipped his head to you. 

“She tells me everything, Rhysand.” You quirked an eyebrow. “Everything. Which is why I’m not storming into the spring court. I know what she needs to do.” 

“What?” 

“She told me about it. When it was happening.” You said. “When that bastard brought us in, she spoke in my head. Told me about it and that I needed to trust you guys. So I did.” “I’m sorry, that you three got brought into this.” 

You shrugged, “you would’ve seen me around anyway. Fey and I can’t stay away from each other. At least this way our friendship will last longer.” 

He huffed a laugh, amazed at your positivity. “I’m surprised you’re this positive about it.” 

You shrugged, “I just got her back, I’m not losing her again.” 

“Yeah. I can relate to that.” He said quietly. 

- After that night, he looked after you more. You helped out in the kitchen, you cleaned too even though you were requested not to. You can’t just sit around. You even talked to Rhysand about getting a job. 

- You two also hung out together, you either talked or just sat quietly. He found that you were one of those people that made it extremely easy to talk to you about anything. He felt safe with you immediately, which should’ve rang off more warning bells than it did. 

- You were accepting this life, because rejecting it would just result in a big spiral that you refused to go down. You’ve been down a depression rut before, you know when the signs are coming so you made yourself useful around the townhouse. 

- After Feyre came back from the Spring Court; you welcomed her again with open arms. Held her while her own sisters turned her away. 

Nesta had shoved you away because to her it seemed you were taking Feyre’s side. You weren’t. You loved all of them so much, you just wanted a bit of normalcy even though you knew it would never be normal again.

Him, Feyre and the entire Inner Circle heard that screaming match between you and Nesta. 

“And you’re acting like everything’s fine!”

“If I do not act, I will fall apart. This is our lives now. It sucks, the change fucking sucks but you know what could suck more? Feyre being dead. I know you like to act all cold and heartless because it’s some fucking defense mechanism-“

“Do not psychoanalyze me Y/N.” 

“My defense mechanism is trying to make the most out of things! I’m sorry I'm not like you Nesta; I always wish I would be. It would be a lot less painful than feeling every-fucking-thing.” 

Nesta was silent and you continued. “I love you, I would do anything to protect you, to help you. But I cannot be pulled between the three of you.”

“So you’re choosing Feyre? Acting like this is normal?”

“I am choosing me.” You said. “I am choosing to deal with things. This is my life now and I will be damned if I waste one more second on hating myself ever again.” 

Nesta had left the room, storming past the inner circle and walking out. Feyre quickly ran upstairs, her mate hot on her trail. Everyone else remained downstairs in case you didn’t want an audience. Hell, Cassian tried to pull Rhysand away from checking on you. But Rhysand had shrugged him off. 

You’d grown on Rhys quite a bit. 

When they got upstairs, Feyre crept in, “Sometimes.” You breathed, “I want to punch that bitch in the face.” 

“Y/N-” Feyre started. 

“I love her, so much, Fey. But my Gods-” You choked out. “I am just trying to keep it all together.” 

“I know.” Feyre nodded, “that’s what you do. You make sure we’re all okay, but you don’t prioritize yourself. That’s what you’ve always done, but please do not put us before you this time.” Feyre’s voice was wobbly as she turned you into her shoulder. 

That’s where you broke down, and Rhysand made himself scarce. But not before seeing that look in his mates eyes. The same look she had when she found him during his nightmare. 

The face of someone watching the love of their life break down. 

-Eventually things between you and Nesta got better, “they always do” you had reassured Rhysand when he was talking to you about it. Feyre even agreed, “things always work out with Y/N. She doesn’t let stuff be unsaid.” 

- That’s why when he started fumbling around you like a schoolgirl, he realized pretty quickly what was going on. He knew that if you got a whiff about it, it would be endless misery. Not only would he lose Feyre, his entire family would turn on him. He knew what he was feeling too. It was the same thing he felt about Feyre when he first met her, intrigue. And then, it became so much more. 

The mating bond was beginning to snap. But a trio bond? Cause he still very much was bonded to Feyre. He had never heard of a trio bond in his particular area of the world. He knew couples took on consorts or occasional thirds. He even joked about that with Fey. 

Hell, this entire inner turmoil he’s had to keep from shouting down the bond. He wants to talk to her because she’s his best friend but how do you tell your wife you think you’re also fated to be with her best friend? 

So he began countless research methods. Just wondering if it was a thing at all. Or if they were about to rewrite history. However, he found that while it wasn’t common, it did happen. So, he began a folder compiling research, putting things together to show Feyre everything he’s found. 

- Pretty soon he was able to grow a pair and tell her. He walked into their home, first he checked on his beloved son to see him sleeping in his crib. Then found Feyre in their bedroom. He walked up to Feyre too, ready to confess, when she looked at him extremely nervous. “I wanna try something.” She started. “I…I love you. So fucking much Rhys. But….I was wondering if we could add Y/N to the mix. I’ve felt this pull and I can’t explain it. And it’s really scaring me right now.” 

He felt like he was going to collapse. He then realized he didn’t say anything when Feyre started crying, “please say something.” 

“I…I’ve felt the pull too.” He held out the folder, “that’s actually what I want to talk to you about.” 

So they stayed up quite late, going over the logistics, how they still felt about each other (spoiler: disgustingly in love still), and how they would feel adding you. 

- They wanted you more than anything. 

- So, despite Feyre telling Rhysand “no my love, she’s not going to like subtle ways here. She needs direct.” He still went subtle. 

- She just let him do whatever. Even though she knew damn well you don’t like gray areas, you need point blank black and white. 

- She knew not intervening sooner would bite her in the ass, especially when you stormed into the art studio fuming. But she did enjoy the beautiful blush on your cheeks. She also found your angry eyes disgustingly attractive like she always has. 

You threw your bag over in a chair. “You need to tell your husband to stop flirting with me.” You hissed to her. 

Feyre raised a brow, “tell him yourself.” 

You looked shocked. Feyre quickly realized that this wasn’t the time for a blunt best friend role. Especially when she knew her husband had feelings for her best friend. “Fey! You can’t be okay with this!” 

She sighed, “can you just stay here, please? I’m going to get him here and we’re going to get this figured out.” 

You sighed and waited. When Rhysand came strolling in all breezy, he froze like he was terrified. “Uh, hello my two favorite beautiful ladies-”

“See!” You yelled. “He doesn’t stop.” 

“And he’s not going to.” Feyre sighed, “we have something to talk to you about.” 

She was glad she could read your face so well after all these years still. Let’s just hope there were more years of friendship, and possibly more. 

She also didn't know how to be around the bush with you. “You know the mating bond?” 

You nodded, so she continued. “Since a few months ago, both Rhys and I-” she looked at her husband. “We’ve felt…a pull to you.” 

You just stared. Rhysand continued. “The pull is the beginning of the mating bond.” Then he noticed that you weren’t reacting. 

“Why aren’t you surprised?” Rhysand asked. 

“She already knows.” Feyre said. 

You said nothing, and Feyre continued. “You knew and didn’t say anything?” 

“You didn’t say anything for a few months.” You said weakly. “When did you know?” 

“The second I came out of that cauldron. I felt it then.” 

Rhysand felt his own heart shatter, Feyre could feel her own shatter then as well. You waited years. Rhysand didn’t even wait that long knowing that it was Feyre. He waited a good six months but not years. Feyre didn’t wait at all, she jumped his bones. 

Feyre jumped back, shocked. “You knew for years? Why didn’t you-”

“What could I have said, Fey?!” You yelled. “That I’m 90 percent sure that I’m meant to be with you and your husband? Doesn’t help the fact that-” You cut yourself off, you were bordering on hysterics. 

“The fact that what?” Rhysand said softly. “You two make it horrifically easy to fall in love with you.” You said, your tears finally cresting over your waterline and flowing down your cheeks. “I tried. I tried not to. Because I didn’t know if the cauldron was just cruel and gave me two mates I could never have. I knew it was possible for people to reject their mates so I accepted I was destined for that.” 

You sniffed, “my gods, why don’t you just put me out of my misery and reject it right now. I’ll leave Velaris, I’ll leave you alone.”

Feyre was crying. “You don’t deserve to be rejected.” “Well, you wouldn't think that if you knew the thoughts I had about your literal husband but okay Fey.” 

“If you were a random woman, that’s when I’d care. But you’re you-”

“And your best friend. It’s a cliche ass trope.” You wiped your face. 

“And you are my mate!” She shouted. “You are destined to be mine, to be Rhysand’s, to be ours!” 

You looked at Rhysand, “you’ve been silent. What are you thinking?” 

“How lucky I am to have two beautiful women be mine. If you’ll have me.” He said, his voice was quiet and hoarse, as if he was terrified that if he spoke too loud, he’d spook you and you’d run. 

You let out a broken sob, Feyre and Rhysand ran to hold you. 

“We would be honored if you became our mate.” Feyre said, her forehead pressed against your temple. 

“When I first met you,” Rhys began, his chin resting on your head. His hands clasped around Feyre’s back on your left side, he was on your right. “I saw how happy you made Feyre. But then when she was gone, you kept me from losing it on…well everyone.” He admitted. 

“We had only had a few conversations.” You said. 

“Shhh, I’m confessing.” He teased, then he heard you snort a laugh. “When Feyre and you first reunited. I saw how happy she was, how she felt so safe. I vowed right then that I would protect you to keep that smile on her face. But once I got to know you, I realized I would protect you in general. You made me feel so at ease. I felt the peace that I knew Feyre must feel when she talks to you. You are strong, you are sweet, you are the most welcoming person I have met in my lifetime. You had every right to react poorly to us, instead, you took us in simply because we were with Feyre. You never looked at us like you were superior, or that we were your superior. Just equals sharing a space.” He held you two tighter. 

“You could’ve ignored us completely, or been rude. But instead, you unabashedly asked Azriel and Cassian to help you cook because if we were going to stay we had to do work.” His shoulders shook with restrained laughter. He heard Feyre giggling and even you let out a wet laugh. “I realized you were a gem too many times to count. Especially when I fell asleep on the couch and not only did I have my guard up, but you covered me with a blanket so I wouldn’t get cold. Most would’ve ignored me. Then at the meeting with the other High Lords, you snapped at Tamlin and told him to ‘shut the fuck up’ and to ‘fuck off and die’. It was a magnificent thing to witness. You didn't care that he could’ve killed you with a single strike. Which, not going to lie, kind of worries me for your health in the future.” 

All three of you laughed at that. 

“You say we are easy to fall in love with, but you have no idea how magnetic you are.” He said. “I always wanted you and Feyre closest to me, at first I thought it was because you were her best friend, and you were becoming mine. But then…then I started to fall for you. Before I felt the tug. I fell for you because of this kindness, this bravery, the strength. It’s everything to me and if you give me the chance I will spend the rest of our lives proving how I am worthy of you and Feyre. The mating bond was just a bonus.” 

You sniffled again, but he felt your arms pull from where they were wrapped around your own waist. And spoke. 

“I have a condition.”

“Name it.” Feyre whispered . 

“I get to have sex with you both at separate times and together. Basically, we fuck alone and together. I’m not doing this territorial fae bullshit if one of you is actually not okay with it. We are all equal and we can solo fuck each other.” 

Rhysand let out a loud, boisterous laugh, “that’s not what I was expecting, but absolutely.” All of you laughed again.

“I want dates too.” 

“Always.” Feyre said. 

“And gifts.” You said jokingly.

“Duh.” Rhysand said seriously. 

 But then you untangled yourself from the huddle and went to your bag that you had thrown down when you stormed into Feyre’s art studio. 

Rhysand couldn’t help the pout and Feyre whined at the loss of contact. 

You said nothing, but pulled out an orange and began peeling it. “Seriously? You’re snacking after that?” Rhysand exclaimed. 

“Rhys, wait.” Feyre said, tears in her eyes. Her hand on his arm. 

You offered it to them, “I don’t have time to prepare something right now, and frankly I’m not patient enough.”

They just stared at your open palms. “I accept.” 

- Thus the frenzy began.

[callmehopeless]

A Recounting Of Moments

Ominis Gaunt x Reader

AO3 LINK | OR BELOW THE CUT

Plot: Ominis Gaunt gives MC cunnilingus. No other plot. It's just horny, man. (Below the cut because 18+)

Word Count: 1,500

He's loved her since those very first days.

Since the threads of him first tangled with the threads of her - tentative. A curious meeting outside of the Undercroft; he was angry, then, at the intrusion of the thing. It felt like the twisting knife that curled in his heart, and he was blinded (if you'll forgive him that one) by a rage too thick to see through.

It's always been the three of them, you see.

Sebastian, and Anne, and Ominis. A triad of troublemakers; or friends, at the least of it. Three people who have trusted eachother, beyond all recognition. Beyond sense, or sanity, or any which ways you turn the dial.

But then there was her.

Oh, Merlin--he never expected this.

It's the way she kisses him. The way her lips press to his that makes him drunk on it; on the madness that can barely be contained in him. Ominis Gaunt has grown around the madness: a pox of his family, and he's the pox on that, too. Stains upon stains, until you become lost in the fabric of an addled tapestry that doesn't make you a Gaunt. Doesn't make you anything else, either - but he's not sure where he fits, anymore.

Between her lips, though: he fits there just fine.

He thinks he'd like to stay there forever. Build a home in the space between those places; write poetic lines right into the cords of her throat. Tell her she's magical; tell her she's shaking the very fabric of him into misery and madness, just by the way her back arches against this window.

He shouldn't be fucking her here.

But he's fucking her all the same.

Not yet: not quite. But his lips drag up her ankle: her back pressed against the window of the Common Room like it's solid enough to support the way their souls vibrate. He can feel the way she's trembling against it; how the water pushes and pulls against the glass as she hitches her skirt, and Ominis Gaunt is lost in kissing upward. Upward, inch by inch: as slowly as one can kiss, when all is said and done.

"You don't know, do you?" he asks her, between smattered promises on her skin, "don't know what I've held back from doing to you all day?"

Of course she doesn't.

If she did - she'd hardly be threading her fingers through his hair and dragging her nails over his scalp like this. She'd be shredding her voice on his name; aching, wild: she'd be tearing the tapestries from the walls with screams of his name. There's a strength to the thoughts he's brimming with: too deep and dark to explain to her, in the heat of this moment.

"Tell me," she begs him, and it drips like honey. Right down his spine; right over the fabric of his clothes. Drenches him.

He kisses up towards her knee, now. Sucks a kiss on the inside of her right one, pulling it just up over his shoulder. His hands thread higher to the curves of her; he can see her in perfect detail like this. The way she'd fill a uniform to perfection. Fill a skirt to absolution.

Fit around him like she was made to.

Perhaps that's too crass of him. Filth and dirt: not befitting a man of his station.

Ominis cares little for it.

He cares for the way gooseflesh pricks under his fingers, though. And that's far more real than any suppositions might be.

"First," he tells her, his voice husky in his throat, "I thought of you at breakfast. Sitting in my lap. The way you like to put those delicate lips to my neck."

He tells her it without any need to compose himself: he's already lost in her. His trousers are too tight, when he kisses upward. Bites, a little bit, at her left leg first. He moves to the right to give it equal attention, and his nails dig crescents ever so gently against the outside of her thigh. She intakes sharply; a lungful of air that feels almost reverent.

"Go on," she implores, and he feels rather lost in it all.

"Then; Charms."

Ominis lets his breath flutter on her as he moves upward; it's warmer, here. Softer. The skin is tender and untouched by anyone but him - he's maddened by the salty taste of the sweat against his lips.

"You held that wand deftly," he feels almost wild, now. His cock throbs in his trousers; spitting. Spilling. "Agony. All agony. You're a vision; and I wish your hands had been on me in much the same way."

He can feel her heartbeat in her thigh, and it's enough to bring him further into a deep, agonising place.

Merlin; but this worship is better than what his body craves.

To show her what this is is bliss in of itself. The denial is half of the prize: a man earns his keep, after all.

"I wish I had, now." Her voice cracks on the last word; his nails drag on the inside of her thighs, and there is no fabric to bar him at all.

"At dinner," he swallows, desperate for air, "I craved only this."

I craved only you.

He thinks he says it in English, at first. But there's a brilliant tremble to her body as he breathes it, so close to the wet heat of her - and it's not English at all. It's a hiss, and a flick of the tongue; the language of snakes, and a blessed relief to finally let free from himself. Like a breath he's been holding for far too long; he feels the tip of his tongue ache with the sound of it.

Or, perhaps, the desire to taste her.

She's trembling beneath his touch, and Ominis can barely contain it, as he kneels in blissful reverence before her. He's never been one for sermons, but it feels like something of a pledge; a promise, and a hymnal, and a tempestuous force from his lungs that wants to swallow him whole.

She whimpers at the touch, and he nibbles just so.

"Ominis," she begs, her pulse fluttering, "please. Please."

Ominis Gaunt is many things.

But no - he will never deny her this.

So his mouth creeps upward; lips parted, teeth nibbling. Gentle and slow, as he feels the fabric of her skirt against the nape of his neck. He breathes in the scent of her, and it makes him just about mad with the promise of the whole bloody thing.

"Oh; you have no idea how delicious you are, do you?"

She can't ever know.

There are no words for it. None he knows; none that matter. None that would make sense  - not to him, not to her, nor to anyone. But his nails grab at the curve of her: higher, feeling the flesh ooze around his fingernails, and he's no longer a devout follower.

He's a reverent, repentant sinner.

His tongue comes first - stretches out. The tip of it is ever so gentle: he wants and wants, begging for a taste of her as though it'll cure every ill in his body. Maps her with his hands; but his tongue is the true vision of the peace. When he finds her; she trembles with a whine, and Ominis wishes he were a stronger man.

He isn't. No man is this strong.

He buries his face into her cunt: presses his lips to it in absolute, agonizing want. The feeling is ecstasy; the taste is madness. Keening, pure absolution - incomprehensible, in all that it is.

His groan is loud enough to wake half the Common Room; but that's half of the daring of it.

The other half is deep within her; and he'll gladly lick it out. Spread the flat of his tongue clean against her, until she's writhing and wild against his face; fisting his hair and begging with his name upon her lips.

He's loved her all along, after all.

[helpmeimblorboing]

Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian are perfect foils of each other.

Jiang Cheng is not a righteous person. He is a person who has let the Three Poisons of Buddhism overwhelm him almost completely, using them as weapons to wield - to the point that his title is “Sandu Shengshou”, the skilled user of the Three Poisons. Yet he is praised and honored by the jianghu, because he is the son of the Jiang Clan

Zidian’s emblem is a snake - the very symbol of hatred, which, to cultivators, who have to deal with RESENTFUL energy on a daily basis, would be the worst of them all

But there’s deeper symbolism to this, because in terms of action - each Jiang, save for JC and WWX, would naturally represent a different poison

- Jiang Fengmian, so attached to Wei Wuxian that he neglected his own son, and in the process, enraged his wife. So attached to the memory of Wei Changze that he didn’t even bestow the name Jiang upon his son, thereby othering him from the “rightful” members of the Jiang sect. Is it any wonder that the jianghu only ever saw him as a servant ?

- Yu Ziyuan, so consumed with her resentment and hate of Wei Wuxian and Cangse Sanren that she inadvertently used the son she claimed to love as a weapon against WWX, hurting both in the process

Remember, Zidian - the whip of hate- was hers first, before it passed on to Jiang Cheng, as he grew resentful of the very person she had always despised, inheriting her hate

- And finally, and most painfully, Yanli is ignorance, or indifference. Ignorant of the way her husband’s sect plotted against Wei Wuxian. Ignorant of her brothers’ suffering, both of them

Ignorant of the injustice of her mother’s actions or at least indifferent towards them

It’s notable that she died of being on a battlefield without adequate preparation- of ignorance

And in a way, Jiang Cheng inherited all these qualities from his family - he grows so attached to Wei Wuxian that he refuses to let him go, he grows so resentful of him that he hunts down anyone who so much as uses his style of cultivation for thirteen years after his death, and, of course, he is ignorant to the truth behind his own core

He truly is Sandu Shengshou - skilled wielder of the three poisons

(Side note : The Venerated Triad could also represent the Three Poisons - Xichen being ignorance, Guangyao being attachment ( towards his father’s sect, his own pride) and Mingue being hatred)

[imaginesandbandfiction]

Triad Part 2 — Aftermath of the Mating Bond

A Cazriel x Reader Headcanon

Masterlist

A/N: Here’s another part of my Cazriel x Reader headcanon universe that probably needs a better name if I’m gonna keep up with it. Validation works everyone!!! Also you’re def in Mor’s room because they couldn’t agree on whose room to go to and had to take you to neutral territory bc they are big dumb idiots.

PART 0 PART 1

You wake up at the Townhouse, in Mor’s room, completely alone. It feels like you’re being torn in two from the inside out.

In the hallway, Cas and Az sit with their backs against the wall on either side of the door, arguing in barely-audible whispers.

“We can’t go in there,” Az hisses.

“It’s been fourteen hours! We should at least try to use the bond to help,” Cassian grumbles back.

Yet somehow you can hear them through the wall; a ghost of their words kisses your ears.

“It’s Y/N’s choice whether to accept or not. We cannot take that choice away from her.”

“How long are we going to wait out here? Until she dies?”

You curl up on your side and press your hands against your ears. Your body shakes with the conflicting magics rumbling through you.

“Amren and Mor are digging up everything they can find about Triad Bonds. If there’s anyone I trust to track something down, it’s those two.”

“How long will that take? A week? A month? A year? I can’t sit back for much longer. Not all of us have mountains of patience like you.”

“No, some have thimbles.”

Fighting. They’re fighting and, somehow, your magic is fighting alongside with them, split from a deep violet into strings of blue and red that battle for dominance. Surrounded by golden flames that burn through your veins, filling them with the sharp sting of lightning.

“Clear your mind, like I told you. Conjure up your shields.”

“Oh, yeah, sure, like it’s that easy.”

“STOP!” You scream. When the boys burst in, your back is arched so far that only your fingertips and your toes are touching the bed.

“Y/N,” Cassian shouts, diving for you. Azriel’s shadows reach you first, swirling up your legs and arms. Cold snakes its way towards your heart, soothing your burning magic like putting a hot bath on an aching muscle. It can only dull what’s already there.

Cassian pulls you to his chest and falls back onto the bed.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he whispers, shoving the sweaty hairs off your forehead. “We’re here, Angel.”

The red magic is swallowed back into purple and the pain eases up a little bit, freeing your mind from the hazy fog covering it.

“Wh-what’s happening to me?” You ask, words wobbly as they escape your trembling lips. “It’s like my magic is… tearing me apart.”

Cas’s head whips around and in an instant, Azriel is behind him. It hits them both at the same time, that your pain is their fault. That if they were feeling such strong emotions it must be doubled for you.

Your body is flooded with guilt and shame for a second, and then the golden flames die down as the blue magic is folded into the violet. Collapsing against Cassian’s chest, the golden magic reaches out for Azriel, mirrored by your hands. It takes a second for you to realize that they’re clutching the front of his jacket, pulling him flush against Cassian’s back.

Realization hits you like a blow to the chest, rattling your heart.

“Is this the mating bond?” You ask, pulling back just enough to see two pairs of eyes full of conflicting emotions.

“Yeah, baby, it is,” Az says, leaning forward to press a kiss to your forehead. He wraps his arms around you and Cassian and the golden magic settles over you like a thick wool blanket. You open your mouth to speak but Az shushes you. “It’s okay, we’ll talk about it tomorrow. For now, you need to rest.”

Despite the part of you that aches for answers, you can’t help but drift off to sleep to the steady rhythm of their hands on your body, soothing you to sleep with gentle touches.

Answers will come eventually; for now, you’re completely content.

[h3ad-quarters]

HQ had made it deep enough into the Blacksite that attacks from the Z-class creatures were becoming far more frequent; almost like they were focusing on him specifically. Stepping through the door marked 49 the lights began to flicker, the distant sound of screeching quickly closing in on his position from behind.

With no locker in sight it would seem his goose would be cooked, right here in a half collapsed room— Or at least it would have been, if the vent beside him hadn't popped open and clawed hands snapped around his ankles, forcefully draging him through the vent and into the cool darkness of another room.

The screech of the Angler passing rattles the vent behind him as his legs are released, whatever had him backing off with a chuckle. It only takes a moment for the room to be illuminated in a warm hue, a toothy smile and a triad of teal eyes smiling down at him beneath the new light source.

"Well Friend! That was a rather close call, dont you think? Hehehe... Usually they won't enter this room, but I guess your luck ran out in the last one~"

Z-13's tone is friendly; either attempting to toy with the man from Head Quarters, or simply not knowing him by face alone.

- @aquaticshopkeep

HQ had absolutely noticed the uptick in attacks from other Z-classes, he had seen how frequently they normally attacked the EXR-P and knew they had realized who he was somehow - he didn't exactly have the time to question any of it as yet another Z-283 variant deiced to try and bite him in the ass again

He had started to panic, normally there was lockers everywhere maybe it had fallen along with the collapsed side of the room -

He hadn't had much time to try and figure out where to hide when he was grabbed, letting out a surprised shout as he was suddenly yanked into the vent, and then - he heard the voice

He quickly turned himself over and looked up at the man above him, his eyes going a little wide at the sight, quickly pulling himself to stand and taking a step or two back

"holy- you scared the shit out of me-"

He had to take a moment to calm his rapidly beating heart, the sudden surge of adrenaline already dying down.

[emelinstriker]

{Triad AU} Wukong ♡ Crafty Love

This is my own lil take/idea on the Triad AU by @skittlescripts​ - Basically you don't have a double life in my version but are the reincarnation of his love. Just cuz I can only write what my interest chooses to sit on, and it apparently didn't sit well with the by day/nightlife concept hfdngfhdngfd- So it ended up with picking a different path in my head. :'D

Smol doodle drawn by me with my persona cuz it fits more than a random Wukong screenshot. c:

♡ ~ Fluff ~ ♡

Today was a pretty chill day for your workplace. You did have customers come in, but it wasn't as many as usual. Assuming people were simply busy themselves today, you didn't think much of it. Well, that was until one of your co-workers told you about how your boss seemed to have gotten into some trouble with a member of the local triad. Something along the lines of her having gotten into an argument over keeping the restaurant on their king's turf. But apparently it was a lower member, so he ended up threatening to get a higher-up. And customers who received the news were wary about eating there for a while.

Nothing happened however, so it seemed more like an empty threat from your boss's point of view.

And yet due to what you heard, you were a little bit on edge yourself. Mainly about the potential shut down of the restaurant, making you essentially jobless once more. And you actually did enjoy your job here.

You were the one who designed the restaurant aesthetically, making it feel more welcoming for those afraid of the organization lurking everywhere. And since the restaurant was in a rather shady part of Megapolis, it stood out quite a long. You were also in charge of making to-go packages look nicely. Aluminum animals were littered around the windows for show of your abilities in the crafts of origami and general design.

And it did garner a lot of attention because most passerby found it really cute. Even customers' children sometimes asked if they could make their own little animals with your assistance. But your skills did not make you famous or really be seen. You were quite invisible to the public eye, always sitting quietly in a corner or in the back of the restaurant. In fact, you were so invisible that the two powerful demons that came in later that day didn't notice you folding up another delivery for someone who ordered for pick-up. The customer specifically asked for a fox as a little gift for one of his family members. You yourself were so occupied by your artistic piece and playlist's music that you didn't notice them coming in either.

The demons were talking to your co-worker and were 'kindly' asking for your boss. And of course, your co-worker, terrified as she was, jogged towards the back to get your boss.

"Ugh, why does everyone keep on picking this part of the city for their business?" The monkey with an eye patch questioned while scrolling through his phone, thoroughly bored. He knew this 'talk' wouldn't take long, so why was he demanded to join in the first place?

The other simian leaning against the counter huffed, "Well, they simply don't learn this area is off-limits. I don't even see any reason to keep this restaurant here anyway. We can just scare off every customer if we go the non-violent route." He quickly flipped through the menu, or rather looked at solely the pictures. "Even the food here looks mediocre at best. Killing the people here plus the business would actually be a blessing."

"At least the decoration's nice. I mean, look at this cat!" The black-furred one commented, holding up a miniature kitten made out of aluminum foil he found by the counter.

"Hm, true", the other one admitted. His eyes then glanced around the room's decor... until his eyes landed on you.

You, who made The Great Sage instantly freeze in shock.

You, who was sitting lonely in the corner of the empty restaurant.

You... who looked like an exact replica of his long lost lover, just with different clothing.

His one and only beloved, who managed to tame this beast of a feral demon... until they died to another demon's talons. It caused the Monkey King to snap and make sure this demon would no longer serve as a reminder of what happened. The environment wasn't safe from the encounter either. Unfortunately, he was unable to bring you back, and he had no way of knowing if you would ever be able to reincarnate. But it seems he finally had found you after so many years. And you were the one behind the creation of the only good thing about this restaurant.

The monkey stared at you for so long that his eyes started to dilate and his tail started to slowly swish from side to side. His lips curled into a soft smile as he witnessed your happiness with your work. His friend seemed to notice and followed his gaze.

Ah. Now he understood.

He smirked at his superior's lovestruck expression. Until your co-worker returned, trailing behind your boss, who suddenly seemed a lot more anxious than ever before. The two monkeys gazes snapped back at the two women behind the counter. One monkey seemed amused while the other seemed to have been caught off-guard.

"Yeah, so, we came here because one of my men noticed your restaurant and you were not willing to leave our turf. And we came to settle what he didn't manage to do", the black-furred one stated nonchalantly, his gaze lingering back onto his phone, seemingly searching for something specific.

"Oh Great Sage Equal To Heaven! I beg of you! Please don't kill us!" Your boss pleaded, lowering her head and putting her hands together.

The Great Sage's eyes then glanced back over to you, still vibing to your music and smiling at your crafty little work. You just finished another smaller fox as extra, and he couldn't help but find it absolutely adorable. He then looked back at your boss with a smirk. "You know what? Nevermind, you get to keep your lives and your business."

Confused, yet still frightened, your boss asked him what made him change his mind.

"Simple. You got one amazing and absolutely stunning crafty person working here. Would be a shame if anything happened to your or this business while they still work here~", he answered as his eyes traveled back over to your corner. Your boss glanced between him and you repeatedly before laughing in what one could only describe as a mix of relief and confusion... or concern.

"W-Well, they are a great person, indeed! I assigned them to this task specifically because they don't want to be seen or have to talk to customers. So we- ...huh?" Your boss stopped, watching helplessly as The Great Sage Equal To Heaven approached your seat with his hands in his pockets. Both her and your co-worker were silently praying for your life.

You were still busy with another aluminum animal, when you suddenly felt someone's presence drawing closer. You finally looked up when the person was hovering over you. "Um... may I help you, sir?" You asked as you took off your headphones. What you didn't expect was that the person was a monkey with fancy-looking clothing. He was blushing a little but you were too confused to notice. Apparently you didn't recognize him. He saw it as mostly a blessing because he didn't want the reincarnation of his beloved to fear him. The way you were so casual towards him was what drew him into your past life's relationship in the first place.

"Oh, I just saw your fascinating little crafts and wanted to say you- I-I mean, they look lovely!" He stammered out nervously. You blinked at him before leaning over the table to grab a little aluminum monkey you made before. It wasn't quite as accurate as the birds you've created, but it was still recognizable. You then held up the mini monkey in front of him with a smile.

"Would you like to have this one? It's not great by any means, I'm... still practicing monkeys. I-I hope it doesn't look offensive, otherwise I could-" "It's perfect..." He cut you off, gently taking the animal made out of foil. He would hate himself if he accidentally damaged it in any way with his strength. His claws barely brushed over the softness of your hands, but it was enough to make him feel the tingling sensation you imprinted on him. The Great Sage then gave you a loving smile and a nod in appreciation, "Thank you..."

While the two of you were chatting away about your masterpieces, laughing when certain jokes were made, your boss and co-worker were baffled. They wouldn't have believed it if the scene wasn't playing out right in front of their eyes. The Sun Wukong, Great Sage Equal To Haven, leader of the most feared triad, and immortal Monkey King... was casually talking to a practically invisible stranger without threatening them even once. Or even making them feel uncomfortable.

Were you so oblivious to the fact that you were speaking to a man who could not only kill you, but also destroy everything around you without even trying?

Well, it wasn't so much about being oblivious than it was just about being a decent person. You've heard of the triad, and you've heard rumors of the infamous Monkey King. However, that doesn't mean you would necessarily have to treat him any different to any other customer since you didn't know him personally. You've never even seen the guy until now. And by his looks, you could easily assume it was him.

Meanwhile Macaque seemed amused by the situation. Something only he seemed to have noticed was Wukong's tail wagging happily. Its movement wasn't fast, but it still reminded him of a dog who found its long missing owner. So he couldn't help but take a picture of the scene. It wouldn't serve so much as blackmail, but it would be enough to calm him down with a picture of you if the other simian started to go off again.

And if that wasn't enough, he took some extra pictures of specifically you being happy with Wukong.

"So what you're saying is that if I order food for pick-up or delivery, you would be the one packing it up?" The orange monkey asked, purposefully playing dumb.

"Yeah, unless I'm sick or have a day off. Then one of my co-workers does the packing instead", you responded, pointing in the counters' general direction. Your co-worker let out a nervous squeak before hiding behind your boss.

"Great, so I'll get to see your pretty face a lot more often!" Your face turned a light shade of red at his comment. Too shocked that someone, anyone, let alone The Great Sage would compliment you past your work. He gave you a grin, "It's decided. You can expect me to order food at least once a day."

You blinked in absolute confusion, meanwhile your co-workers were dumbfounded. "Eh?"

"Well, it was nice talking to a stunning and demon-friendly person such as yourself, peaches. But I believe my visitation time's up for today. I hope you're back here tomorrow though." He winked at you at the end, making your blush darken just a bit that he could still notice.

"And don't worry about your business, boss lady", he added as he turned towards the counter with a smirk. "So long as your amazing artist's working here, this restaurant is under the triad's protection. Anyone who tries to get rid of it will have to get through me and my men first." His eyes seemed to darken just a little as his smirk grew into something a bit more sinister. The Monkey King let out a laugh at your co-workers' scared expressions. The dark-furred simian on the other hand huffed in amusement, showing his own fanged grin to the two women. This seemed to scare them a few steps further away from the counter he was now sitting on.

The orange-furred monkey then pulled out a pen and used a piece of unused foil before writing something down on it. He then slid it over the table towards you, placing his other hand on his hips. "Here, feel free to text or call me anytime. And by anytime, I do mean anytime. Feel free to also contact me when you feel unsafe or just want company! I really wouldn't mind showing up in person!"

To be honest, it was actually strange for Macaque to see his old friend act this weirdly. He could tell Wukong was trying to sway and seduce you. But due to how he wasn't trying to do it to manipulate you, and him haven't genuinely done this in hundreds of years, he kind of lost his touch. The shadow monkey could see him struggling as he was a nervous mess on the inside.

His tail gave away his nervous vibes the most. It kept on moving around, curling in on itself, as well as seemingly trying to hold itself back from just wrapping around you for much needed comfort. You glanced at the info written down on the piece of aluminum before gently smiling at him with a nod. "Will do, thanks! It was nice chatting with you too, Mr. Monkey King."

"Please, just call me Wukong. 'Mister' just makes me feel an extra millennium older."

"But you are old, grandpa!" Macaque exclaimed from across the room, earning him a death glare from his ticked off boss.

"You're one to talk, emo dinosaur!" The King snapped back. You couldn't help but let out a small laugh at their childish insults, making the orange-furred monkey slowly turn towards you, his heartbeat seemingly increasing at the sound. He needed to hear your laugh more.

"Anyway, I'll take this with me," he stated as he picked up one the menus from the table, "and we'll be on our way now. See you tomorrow, peaches~" The Great Sage then rather aggressively grabbed the other amused demon by the back of his coat, casually picking him up and carrying him towards the exit, the aluminum monkey still being gently held by his other hand. "Move along Macaque, we don't have all day."

"Until next time, (Y/N)!" Macaque called out as he waved at you as best as he could, still being carried away like a kitten.

...How did he know your name? You only told Wukong during your conversation... 'Man, those rumors about the Six-Eared Macaque having incredible hearing must be true if he was able to hear that', you thought. Little did you know that he already knew your name despite his hearing.

However, from that day on your life's daily routine changed. Wukong would ask for a different order everyday, testing out everything from the menu to see if it was even worth buying more than one specific order everytime. And any food he didn't like he would give to MK to try out. His adoptive son was actually pretty fond of the restaurant's food, to the point where he would either go eat there by himself, with friends or come eat with his dad. Most of the time the triad would only ask to grab pick-up food, but there were days where members would actually eat by the tables. You weren't sure if they only asked for pick-up as to not scare away any non-triad customers, but it did seem to invite in more people each day.

Wukong would sometimes also stay at the restaurant, specifically eating at the same table as you while you were packing up other peoples' orders. He started off pretty nervous during your first conversations, but he quickly became a lot more casual with you. Even his flirting attempts became a lot smoother and would easily catch you off-guard, leaving you a blushing mess everytime. Meanwhile you decided to show him how to create his own little army of aluminum animals.

It might take a while to get you to fully fall for him again, but he would do anything to be with you forever. Even if simple little animal crafts would bring you two closer step by step. Reincarnation or not, he loved you until the day he dies...

Which is saying a lot in his case.

> Masterlist <

[worseforwords]

The Last Wrapper

(Leah Williamson x Reader)

Chapter 1: Absence & Anticipation

Cold air filled your lungs as you slowly took in your surroundings: a four-tiered bowl with about sixty thousand red chairs, a glass and steel construction establishing a roof over them, white chairs forming a trademark cannon in the lower level stands opposite the entrance tunnel you were standing in. For many, including yourself once upon a time, the Emirates had the welcoming feeling of home. However, to the opposing team in an upcoming London derby, it radiated immensity and intimidation. As you stepped onto the pristine pitch of North London, memories flooded your mind, reminding you of the first and last time your feet had graced this grass.

You were eleven years old, standing alongside your then friend and teammate Leah Williamson, as your Arsenal Academy coach gathered the team of potential future stars together on the center of the field amid the mesmerising arena. Audible gasps were heard as everyone took in the stadium of their dreams. 

“Take it all in. If you work hard enough, this right here could be your future. The fact that you are here now means you have talent and potential, or at least someone saw something in you. You’re all part of an elite selection, and while that’s already an accomplishment of sorts, it’s not enough to get you to the top. You’ll need to work harder than you have ever worked, and that hard work begins now. You’ll also need support, from family, friends, and everyone around you. Look around, some of you may be inclined to see each other as competition, but these people are your friends, and you’ll find that you need to have each others backs in order to survive. And lastly, unfortunately, you’ll need lots and lots of luck to actually make it to the top, which you have absolutely no control over.”

Hard work, support, and luck: a triad of elements determining whether a talented individual made it to the top. You’d never forgotten the speech your coach gave that day, as the following years taught you just how right she was. 

Over the years you and Leah became close friends; you even developed a pre-match ritual: you always got each other small sweets with some words of encouragement written on the wrapper before every match and you secretly ate them when the staff wasn’t watching. 

You worked together well, pushing each other to work the hardest you could, making tough sacrifices together and eventually, lifting up trophies together in several youth tournaments. You were adamant on making it to the top, together.

But fate had other plans.

Just when everything seemed to be falling into place, an injury during a critical match sent you crashing down. You had been taken to the hospital, and when you woke up after your emergency surgery, Leah was nowhere to be seen. Your dream was shattered, the future uncertain. And where was Leah, your supposed friend? Nowhere to be found. You were furious. You had expected her to be there for you, but instead, she had abandoned you when you needed her most. The injury was serious, and it took over a year of painful rehabilitation before you could even think about playing football again.

After months of gruelling physical therapy, you slowly began to climb back up. You trained harder than ever, pushing yourself to the brink of exhaustion day in and day out. The road to recovery was long and arduous, but you were determined to come back stronger than ever before.

Eventually you got back on the field, but by then, everything had changed. Leah had made it big, joining the senior team, and you were still struggling to get back into the game, having missed a crucial period in your development as a young athlete. You resented her success, and the fact that she had left you behind. 

One day, after hearing yet another story about Leah’s latest achievement, you snapped. You called her up and unleashed all of the anger and frustration you had been building up. The conversation ended in a bitter argument, with both of you hurling insults and accusations at each other. After that, you both avoided each other like the plague, refusing to be in the same room or even speak each other’s names. Your once close friendship had turned into bitter rivalry and you both hated each other with a passion.

Even though it had been mostly out of your control, it felt like she was winning, at football and at life, playing for Arsenal, making new friends and even dating one of their star players, but you refused to give up. You poured everything you had into your training, working tirelessly to improve your skills and perfect your game. Slowly but surely, your hard work began to pay off. Years after Leah had joined Arsenal’s first team, you also found your way into the WSL, by joining Brighton, hoping to move up from there. You worked hard and proved your worth at Brighton, eventually catching the eye of Chelsea scouts. 

The offer to join Chelsea was a dream come true, but it also meant crossing a line you never thought you would. The rivalry between Arsenal and Chelsea was well-known, and as a lifelong Gooner, it was a difficult pill to swallow. But in the end, you knew that this was the chance of a lifetime, playing alongside some of the best and brightest, and you couldn’t let it slip away.

So here you were, about to face your new team’s greatest rival, with your nemesis serving as their captain. You had crossed paths with her on the field before during your time at Brighton, and the encounter had been far from pleasant, but now, about to participate in a highly anticipated London derby, you didn’t know what to expect. 

As you stood on the field, thoughts flooding your mind, Millie approached you, her hand on your shoulder as she asked, “Are you ready?” You turned to face her, taking a deep breath. “Yeah, I think so.” you replied, your thoughts already consumed by the upcoming game. Before you could say anything more, Millie added, “I mean, are you ready to face Leah?” The mention of her name made you flinch. “So you’ve heard, huh?” you asked, a hint of bitterness creeping into your voice. Millie nodded sympathetically, “Yeah, she’s mentioned your history a few times at England camp.”

“What did she say?” you asked after a moment of silence. “I don’t think you want to know that.” Millie answered carefully. You sighed as you pushed the tip of your shoe into the grass and you thought about how everyone must view you, only having heard Leah’s side of the story. “Hey, we’re a team now you know. Whatever happens today, I’ll be on your side.” Millie said as she noticed your frustrated expression. “Thanks.” you said as you nodded slightly.

Two hours went by slowly as you got ready for the match. You walked towards the tunnel, heart racing as you saw Leah already waiting there. As you approached her, she refused to meet your gaze, her jaw clenched tightly. You both knew what was at stake in this match. 

You forced a smile and extended your hand for the customary pre-match handshake, which she reluctantly reciprocated. You could feel the tension between you and you felt a knot form in your stomach as you made your way to your position on the field.

The match started and it was clear from the first whistle that this was going to be a tough one. Dirty tackles and near misses flew from both sides, with tempers flaring and players arguing with the ref. You and Leah ended up coming head to head multiple times, both of you determined not to give an inch.

As you walked into the changing room at half-time, Emma looked stern and unimpressed as she began to lecture the team about their performance in the first half. You listened carefully, taking in every word. As Emma finished speaking, you could feel the determination welling up inside you. You knew that this was your chance to prove yourself and to show Leah and everyone else what you were made of.

Only, once again, faith had different plans, as about ten minutes into the second half, you felt a boot collide with your left knee, causing a sharp pain and sending you tumbling to the ground. You held onto your knee as you hid your face in the grass. It didn’t take long for the medics to arrive, and you immediately told them it was your bad knee that had just taken a hit. As they started their check up routine, you looked up to find Leah getting booked by the referee: a yellow, which somehow was only her first card of the match. Of course it had been her, hitting you right at your weakest spot, where the rivalry had once started.

To your surprise, she started to approach you, but she never got her chance to say anything, as Millie jumped in to stop her, staying true to her word. 

“I’m fine, I can continue.” you said after being forced to the sidelines. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” one of the medics spoke, signalling Emma you had to be subbed out. “No, please, I have to finish this.” But your plea remained unanswered, and much to your dismay, you were ordered to spend the remainder of the game on the bench.

As gruelling of a match this was, watching it from the sidelines was far more excruciating than playing in it. Your team became increasingly frustrated, resulting in foolish mistakes and unnecessary fouls. Defensively, they stood their ground though, until in the fourth of seven added minutes, the ball hit the back of the net, your net. And of course, it had been sent there by none other than Leah Williamson, with a glorious header. As the stadium erupted, you could feel the anger boiling inside of you like a volcano ready to erupt.

The final whistle blew a few minutes later, and you quickly shook hands with the opposing team, trying your best to be polite. You avoided Leah at all costs, not trusting yourself around her with your anger boiling just beneath the surface. She seemed to want to at least shake hands with you, but you had no interest in hearing what she had to say. You made a beeline for the changing room, feeling the urge to get away from the stadium and the memories it held. You quickly changed out of your kit, barely speaking a word to anyone, before making your way out of the stadium as fast as you could.

As soon as you got home, you slammed the front door shut and turned straight to the wall, punching it with all your might. The pain shot up your arm, and you winced as you looked down to see your knuckles bruising and swelling. Feeling defeated, you made your way to the bathroom and turned on the shower. The hot water hit your body, and you closed your eyes as you tried to calm down. After a few minutes, you got out and dried yourself off, then went to the kitchen to make some food.

Despite your body’s need for food after the match, you didn’t feel like eating anything, and you found yourself staring at the food without any appetite. Frustrated, you pushed the plate aside and slumped onto the couch, trying to find something to watch on TV. However, your mind couldn’t focus on anything, and you felt restless and uneasy. You knew you needed to do something to distract yourself, so you got up and grabbed your coat, deciding to go to a bar and drink away your misery.

You walked into the bar and made your way to the counter, taking a seat on one of the stools. You ordered a beer and watched as the bartender poured it for you. You took a sip and closed your eyes, feeling the cold liquid go down your throat.

As you sat there, lost in your thoughts, a stranger came up to you. “Hey there, you look like you could use some company. Is everything okay?” she asked. You looked up, surprised by her sudden appearance. A woman in her mid-twenties, with curly brown hair and a warm smile looked back at you questioningly. “Oh, uh, yeah, just had a bad day.” you replied. 

“Ah, I see,” she said, nodding sympathetically. “Anything you want to talk about?” You hesitated for a moment, but then decided to open up a little. “Well, I lost an important football match today.” you said. “You’re a footballer?” she asked, smiling. “I love football. Which club do you play for?”

“Chelsea, we played Arsenal today.” you answered, making her jaw drop to the floor. “Wait so you like, play professionally?” she asked, eyes widening. “Yeah, I just signed with them actually.” you said, a small smile finally appearing on your face. “Wow, that’s amazing, congratulations!” she exclaimed, “And hey, I’m sorry you lost a derby, but you’ll get ‘em next time, I’m sure.” She smiled. “Thanks.”

“So hey, sorry to be blunt, but could I maybe get your number?” she asked out of the blue, almost making you spit out your drink. “Erm, I’m sorry,” you started, “I don’t really date right now, too busy.” “Who said anything about dating?” she quipped, sending you a quick wink. 

“I’m sorry,” you said again, “but you should go find someone who’s more fun tonight. I’ll keep my sorrow company with a solitary drink or two.” “Okay suit yourself, Emily Dickinson, but if you ever decide to get out of that cloud of misery you’re sitting in, you can find me on the dance floor. I can be a great distraction you know.” she said as she sent you one last wink before she left you sitting alone once again.

You sat at the bar, quietly nursing your beer and trying to forget about the day’s events. Just as you were about to order another, the same stranger from before approached you again. You were a bit annoyed at first, wondering why she wouldn’t leave you alone, but she looked serious this time. “Hey,” she said, “I’m sorry to bother you again, but I saw someone in the bathroom who you probably know. She’s really drunk and crying her eyes out.”

You raised an eyebrow, wondering who she could be talking about. “Why would I know her?” you asked her. “Just go to the bathroom, you’ll see.” she said, sounding serious. You sighed and rubbed your temples. “Fine, I’ll go check on her,” you said, reluctantly getting up from your stool and making your way to the bathroom.

You rounded the corner and saw a blond girl hanging over a toilet, sobbing. You immediately recognised her, even from behind: Leah Williamson. “Of course.” you mumbled to yourself, very annoyed at the situation you had just found yourself in. You hesitated for a moment, wondering if you should just leave her there. But something in you wouldn’t let you. You took a deep breath and approached her. “Leah,” you said softly, “are you okay?”

Chapter 2

[takerfoxx]

I'm not traditionally a poly shipper (though I've been delving more into it as time goes by), but if there's one that I'm absolutely gaga about, as if in makes my personal top five ships and might even slot in right beneath KyoSaya and SuleMio, it's the one that almost certainly could not and should not happen in canon, but the thought of it still kinda makes me rabid with what could have been.

I am of course talking about AsuReiShin, AKA the Israfel Special.

Evangelion shipping is often a bizarre experience, especially amongst the core trio of pilots. There is just so much material among these incredibly fucked up characters, so many things that ought to be drawing them together, and yet they are all damaged in such specific ways that drive them to behave increasingly toxic, avoidant, or even abusive toward one another. They're all such hot messes of trauma and hangups that, hate to say it, the Rebuild ending of everyone essentially just making peace with one another and fucking off with Shinji hooking up with the controversial new girl that he at least doesn't have any baggage with was probably the healthiest choice, if not the most satisfying.

But even so, the reason I dig this triad specifically is because if you change even just a little bit about each character, you find the same traits that drove them apart suddenly drawing them together, and each individual pairing makes so much sense. Asuka and Shinji is the most obvious, with Asuka's aggressive bullying suddenly becoming proactive encouragement, and Shinji's meek avoidance now becoming the calm, stabilizing force that she needs. With Asuka and Rei it's similar, with Asuka's hatred of Rei's passivity now being being a drive to push Rei to experience and enjoy life and establish an identity, while Rei's gentle observation and lack of a filter would be give Asuka a much-needed source of self-reflection. And with Shinji and Rei, we've already seen how Shinji's kindness has encouraged Rei to step outside of her sheltered world and seek human connection, while also providing Shinji someone he felt was worth stepping up and fighting for.

Now, take all three of those dynamics and combine them together. You've basically got the perfect Id, Ego, and Superego situation. It's practically the adolescent Kirk, Spock, and McCoy dynamic!

Plus, there's also the other factors that would bring them together, even beyond the whole being hormonal teenagers in a stressful situation. Despite having wildly different personalities, they all had their lives destroyed by NERV, from Shinji losing his mother and being neglected by his father, to Asuka's mother losing her mind and taking her life thanks to the Evangelions, to Rei literally being created by Gendo to serve a terrible purpose and thus being robbed of ever having a life. That sort of "in the trenches" experience is exactly the sort of thing that would cause them to form bonds and seek comfort with one another, especially if they were all to learn of each other's past histories, and motivate them to stand up for one another against NERV's machinations, but ah, I'm delving into AU fanfic territory.

Point is, no, I don't think it would be wise for these three to seek out romance with one another, either as couples or all three of them together. But man, if they each just had just a little bit changed about them, can you imagine the pure emotional catharsis?

Note: I didn't really say anything about Kaworu because while I feel that he's probably the healthiest singular choice for Shinji, it's basically only with Shinji, making him his own separate deal entirely.

[ansheofthevalley]

Cersei and Dany have more parallels than Cersei and Sansa yet Sansa always gets compared to Cersei whilst Dany gets to stand on her own :/

(Sorry for taking ages to answer this.)

The way I see it, GRRM actually wants us to see and compare the three. To see them, in a way, as a triad:

It's no secret that George loves to use the rule of three (I talk about it a little bit here.) The way I see it when it comes to Cersei/Dæny/Sansa is to compare their ruling styles, especially since they're the strongest candidates to wield power by the end of the series (I'm talking exclusively about book canon, but we can take show canon into consideration since they are the last three big female characters wielding power by the final season.)

At first, Cersei and Dæny are foils, in a way. Cersei calls herself Queen (which she is, first Queen Regent/Dowager Queen, by being Robert's wife, then Queen Mother by being Joffrey and Tommen's mother). Dæny, however, in the beginning, rejects the title of Queen, saying that she's a Khaleesi. As the series progresses (specifically since she's -at least to her knowledge- the last Targaryen), she uses both titles: rightful Queen of the Seven Kingdoms and Khaleesi. So, this would be where the contrast stops working when it comes to these two ladies: they both call themselves Queen, but most importantly, they seek that title because they're motivated by power and the desire to have the Iron Throne. Sure, their motivations are not exactly the same, but they can be boiled down to one word: survival.

(I've spoken about characters motivated by power in the quest for the Iron Throne and what the narrative does to them in show canon, but I can't find the posts, so I'm sorry.)

Now, what part does Sansa play in all of this? Well, we're told in the first book that she's meant to be Queen. After all, she was promised to the prince of the Seven Kingdoms. And she wants to be Queen... until Joffrey orders the execution of Ned. Then, we notice a change in Sansa: she's not interested in the games of intrigue, in the subterfuge. It can all be encapsulated in this quote: "If I am ever Queen, I'll make them love me."

Cersei thinks the best way to rule is to make the people fear you more than they could ever fear the enemy. And that's precisely what she does during her time in power. So, she rules by fear.

Dæny is benevolent to those suffering injustice. But she's also severe regarding those she disagrees with or thinks have interests that go against hers. She is not forgiving. In my eyes, she also has a fatal flaw - she's not interested in the day-to-day tasks that come with being a ruler, as shown in her stint in Meereen. She also relies on her dragons and the Targaryen legacy to instill fear in those who don't want to submit to her. She rules by good faith when it comes to the marginalized and outpowering the powerful with her dragons and armies. So, she rules by power and, to some extent, fear.

Sansa is benevolent with people. She knows what is expected of her as a Lady while in King's Landing. In the Eyrie, she learns to run a household and the day-to-day tasks that come with running a Great Keep like the Eyrie. But that's not all she learns throughout the series. She understands the importance of politics and how to exercise that power. She also understands people's importance; let them be Lords, Ladies, Common Folk, or bastards. She sees their value regarding of station. Also, since the end of the first book, she doesn't get fooled by the nobility; she's more distrustful of their true intentions, and that distrust makes her read each person she encounters more carefully, which, in time, will make her a keen politician (all in all, and this is what sets her apart from Cersei and Dæny, she's not actively seeking to rule. And, when it comes to the rule of three, the last link is the one that differs from the other two and, for that reason, is the successful one.) Sansa is compassionate with those deserving of compassion and sometimes with those who are not, but she's never cruel like Dæny can be or vengeful like Cersei is. This is not to say that she bends to the will of others because she doesn't. She stopped doing it back in King's Landing, starting with small acts of defiance. In the Eyrie, she's on a journey to finding her voice. So, she rules by compassion and observation.

Now, how does the rule of three apply in this instance? Let's first define what the "rule of three" is:

The rule of threes is a writing principle that suggests that three elements, such as events or characters, are more humorous, satisfying, and effective than other numbers. Audiences of texts in this format are also more likely to retain the information conveyed to them. This is because having three entities minimizes the amount of information needed to create the pattern, combining both brevity and rhythm.

By giving us different styles of ruling/approaches to power in threes, GRRM is making sure those ways stick with the readers. He's making it known that the approaches to power and ruling are important for the endgame: this factor will contribute to who ends up in power at the end of the story.

One could argue that the use of the rule of three in comparing Cersei, Dæny, and Sansa is rhetoric: he's comparing three different ruling styles, and we, as the readers, can decide who might be better suited for the title of Queen based on the rhetoric the characters present. (I speak about the difference between Dæny and Sansa - and Jon - as figures of authority here and here. Keep in mind that those metas explore the dynamics of the characters in the show.)

Cersei doesn't give a shit about anyone but herself and her family. She rules with an iron fist and doesn't hesitate to annihilate anyone threatening her power. She rules alone.

Dæny cares about people and uses her power (her dragons) to achieve some of her more altruistic goals, but at the end of the day, those goals are not entirely altruistic since they also serve her. She also uses that power to intimidate and cause fear. To top it all off, she relies heavily on the power that her dragons represent, even though she tries to use politics as a more subtle way to solve problems, but she realizes that if she wants to change the world as she wishes, she needs brute force. She needs her dragons. She uses both power and fear in any situation, whether it is good or bad. She, too, rules alone, even though she has people giving her counsel. (Though that can be explained with Targaryen exceptionalism, in a way. But that's a whole other thing, and this has gotten too long already)

Sansa, on the other hand, is more surgical in her approach. She sees the value in relationships and working together. She sees the value of people and the importance of day-to-day tasks. She relies on her powers of observation and what she's learned in court to solve problems. She rules by understanding: by understanding that she has to work together with people in areas she's lacking and by understanding the potential of each person around her. She rules by working together with those around her.

In conclusion, Cersei and Sansa have always been foils to each other, and that's been set from the get-go. You could say the same about Cersei and Dæny, too. But, as the series progresses, the lines dividing Cersei's style of ruling from Dæny's start to blur, leaving this triad somewhat like this:

[princesssmars]

wildfire

some starmora x reader nsfw headcanons

wc : 1.162

cw : nsfw content! triad poly relationship (fmf). dom!gamora, switch!peter, sub!reader. some sex position links bc i think they're fun. strap-on sex. anal. pda with butt slapping. masturbation.

an : watched gotg 3 and definitely not broken. new gamora is cool but im always gonna miss og gamora so expect more starmora stuff to come bc im bisexual and sad <3

so lets say you joined the guardians early, peter and gamora already have that spark between them and now you've arrived and thrown them for a loop.

while you and gamora are still mostly trying to deal with your romantic feelings, peter is being driven crazy by his sexual ones. he's not stupid enough to jeopardize the budding relationship he has with the both of you by sleeping around.

(not to say he didn't get tempted, there was this one chick with blue skin, big doe eyes and four arms and-)

still. he's not that stupid. but, he does have needs, so he jerks off. a lot. every time he does it he thinks about the both of you. the feel of gamora's skin when his hand brushed against it that morning, the smell of the new shampoo you pick up on the last planet. even just the memory of you two laughing at one of his shitty jokes is enough to make him finish.

not to say gamora doesn't get herself off as well. i don't think she would have that much sexual experience or at least not as much as peter does. just a brief hook-up occasionally to take the edge off. but when you complimented a new armored top she bought that complimented her arms and peter agreed with that stupidly charming yet sleazy smile of his, she couldn't help but lay in her bed that night and rub her puffy clit until she had to bite down on her hand as she came.

it wasn't long after that you all became official.

in the bedroom, gamora is a dom and peter is a switch. to her, there's something about quill commanding the team during missions and casual settings and being reduced to a man on his knees begging for you to touch him anywhere.

but don't for a second think you're off the hook. if you ever get too cocky when she's dominating peter, she won't hesitate to put you in your place. her favorite way to do it was sitting you on a cushion with a direct view of the bed, your hands bound behind your back with a vibrator stuffed inside you as you were left to whimper and beg as she rode peter into oblivion. she keeps eye contact with you while she has her hand around his threat, teasing you about how flustered you look.

gods help you when they're both in a dominating mood. it's mostly after they got roughed up after a mission or the person who hired you was more of an asshole than usual. on those days they don't hesitate to toss you around like a ragdoll and do with you as they please.

one time you were left behind to take care of the ship while they negotiated with the person who hired you, which must have gone wrong with the looks on their faces when they got back. before you know it you're pressed into an arch on your bed, gamora's hands pushing your mouth and tongue deeper inside of her pussy, as peter grabs your hips and helps you throw it back on his dick.

peter would love positions where he can make eye contact, loves the intimacy of it and loves to see the facial expressions you make. doing the counterblow or fireworks in the pilot's seat, a deck chair, or python in bed when your both craving contact. right before you both cum he'll pull away from sucking on your tits or neck to look you in your eyes, whispering "i love you"'s and "cum for me, cum all over me baby"'s as you both reach your highs.

gamora will take you in any position she can. not to say she doesn't love the intimacy occasionally as well. there have been more than a few times where she gently drags you to her room, places you on the bed, and eats you out agonizingly slow for over an hour before crawling on top of you and slotting herself over you, riding your cunt until neither of you can move from overstimulation. her faves would be 69, eagle, plain, and a full nelson if she's feeling pent up.

oh and gods help you when she gets her hands on a strap-on. she found it in a sex shop on a little excursion to a shady planet for rocket to find some rare materials for an invention. quill had seen it first, practically begging the two of you to go inside with him. while he and you were pointing at different beads and gadgets and giggling at the obscenity and absurdity, gamora is busy stalking along a back wall, looking at the different dildos and harnesses with piqued interest.

when she tells you that she booked a hotel room for the three of you for the night, you can't help but get a little giddy at the idea of another night of pleasure with the two of them without having to quiet yourself by biting or gagging. you don't expect gamora to come from the bathroom, a black harness around her hips with a long and thick dark red dildo attached to it. after she gets your consent and gets you prepped, your body is held up and squished between the two as peter thrusts into you from the front while gamora takes the back. you didn't leave the hotel room for two days.

they are very different in how much pda they like to show in public. gamora is more subtle, still wary to let others know how much you really mean to her, plus she likes to keep the romantic and sexual side of her life more private. she'll settle for soft smiles across the room, brushing her hand across yours when she walks by. if she's feeling devious she'll come up behind you while you're doing something under the guise of "helping you", when in reality she's pushing her entire body against yours and maybe throwing a small little thrust in there too. nine times out of ten it will leave you flushed beyond belief and she'll walk away satisfied.

peter is. a whore (affectionate). he is not afraid to be affectionate with you in public. hand holding, hugging, kissing, etc. you already know he's fond of slapping your ass, and will do it every opportunity he gets. if you do it back to him he will literally go like :0. definitely doesn't get a boner.

their aftercare is unparalleled. while you're coming down from your high, peter will rush to get a rag for you all to wash off the liquids and sweat, while gamora will whisper sweet gentle praises while making sure the both of you are hydrated. no matter how rough or quick the sex was. they will always end it with you cuddling in their arms as they whisper to you how much they care about you. <3