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bakugoushotwife · 2 months

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𝖘𝖔𝖚𝖑 𝖇𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖉 // 𝖔𝖓𝖊: 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖖𝖚𝖊𝖊𝖓

↳ cw: minors dni, dark content. proceed at your own risk. sukuna, human!sukuna, historical inaccuracies, murder, npc character death, gore, blood, knifeplay?, marriage, mentions of having children, smut, fingering (fem receiving) size kink, virginity loss, corruption kink, breeding kink, creampie, uhhh making shit up for sukuna's backstory, he's a soft husband kinda? ↳ series masterlist ↳ jjk masterlist ↳ part two

before he was a curse—he was just a man. surely unsightly and terrifying in every way; abandoned from the beginning and forced to learn how to survive the hard way—the powerful sorcerer known as ryomen sukuna had come to extinguish your clan at last. news had traveled fast from the fujiwara clan—the high ranks of the village knew what had happened there—and what would be sure to happen here. you could feel the energy shift all the way from the estate, like a dark, lightning-charged cloud had swallowed you whole. your father was the lord of this clan—the first man. as his daughter and only surviving child, you were expected to be right by his side to greet—and hopefully negotiate with the heian era’s most powerful sorcerer.

so you kneeled next to your father, head bowed deeply, nearly touching the ground. your betrothed mirrored the actions, showing respect to the man they called the disgraced one. your kimono was layered and bright–you were certainly eye-catching. sukuna always did enjoy the fanfare as he made his appearances around japan—the fear was sensational; the way villagers would plead for their lives or for the children to be spared. intoxicating. even smaller praises like this caused a smirk to blossom on his lips. supposed rulers on their hands and knees before him, all in the hopes that he would make one exception.

too bad for this small, hillside citystate. he would brutalize the women, and slaughter everyone else. well, maybe he’d hang on to a few of the women if they were obedient enough. then he’d set fire to the structures your ancestors worked so hard to erect, there would be no trace of your bloodline.

you feel the vibrations of his footsteps on the dais more than you hear them echo. “rise.”

you are the first to move, easing your hands by your sides and straightening your back. your stomach lurches. this was a man? he was humongous, nearing eight feet tall and seemingly just as wide across with a double set of hulking arms and sneering eyes. he was rippled in muscle, broad black markings wrapping around his biceps and thighs, lines scattered across his seemingly disinterested face. one of his four hands clutches a trident-shaped weapon, a second combing through his pink peony colored hair. the other set balances on his hips, carmine eyes combing over you and your reaction to him. unblinking, the both of you.

your father clears his throat, afraid you had committed the sin that would damn your clan’s village. your fiancé elbows you in the ribs to get you to stop staring, to stop blushing at the monster before you. you bite at the inside of your lip, tearing your gaze away.

what an interesting creature you were. it was hard to explain, but no one had looked at him like that before. he wouldn’t say unafraid—it was clear you knew what was potentially on the line. but you didn’t seem…disgusted. so naturally opposed and recoiling away like everyone else. like he wanted from commoners like them–like you. so why did you hold your head so high to look him in the eyes? who were you?

“my apologies, my lord,” your father bows again and then casts a glare at you. “my daughter is still learning how to be a proper lady.” he says, smiling nervously. it’s clear to you and to every one of the villagers watching how spineless your father is. even your fiancé is shaking like a leaf right next to you—embarrassing. you wouldn’t be surprised if sukuna murdered you all simply because of this pathetic showing.

his gaze just trails over to you again. he says nothing, mouth almost in a pout his lips were so downturned. you feel your body grow hot under his examination, at this point you feel it more rude to look away. that coupled with the wimpy performance your men were putting on had you raising your chin again, even splitting your cheeks into a smile. “it is ladylike to look our honored guest in the eyes.” you refute, and that has his attention. you speak out–you fight back. he’s always liked his women feisty.

that simpleton to your immediate right puts a hand on your arm, gentle eyes begging for you to keep your mouth shut. your eyes narrow in argument, and before you can speak again…the said guest speaks.

“what do you want.” his voice is a silky deep pulse, bored in every way. your father starts to wring his hands.

“your excellence, we would be of your greatest debts if you would consider sparing our people…i-i-in exchange for whatever you may desire!”

how pathetic. and absolutely stupid. “do you think you are the first to ask mercy of me? or do you think i owe you a favor…? i have the means to take what i want. i am wasting time even entertaining your stupid pleas.” he seems so aggravated–it’s such a shallow solution. he could request every woman in the village—he could take the lord’s daughter in front of everyone here and now. boring—where’s the creativity? clearly the man didn’t care for his people with more effort than this half-baked plan—

“my lord, if you’ll excuse me weighing in..” you say, your satin voice wrapping around his very thoughts. “you’ve conquered every territory that you have set your eyes upon. if we yield our lands and our rule to you with peace…we could assist with trade and labor.” you hum, hands folded before your stomach. your painted lips are pursed, he can tell even you are annoyed with the lame fodder your father provides. sukuna enjoys your boldness–even if women are oftentimes if not usually the weakest beings present, you seem to carry the intellect of your clan. but your father has had enough interruption.

“insolent woman!” your father says, turning to spew more, but it doesn’t come. you hear a blade whip against the wind, and he’s decapitated at the mouth, his body falling toward you with a sloshy thud. the crowd screams–your fiancé leaps back in horror. your body twitches with surprise, a splatter of blood painting your cheek.

“waste of skin and bones and my precious air.” sukuna sneers, his attention now fully crowned upon you—the new leader of your village. you turn away from the cross section of your father’s face and towards the man that did it without moving a muscle. no, it was his technique—a set of words that made it effortless. you can’t tell if it’s shock or genuine gratefulness that floods your veins. “is this your husband?” the conqueror asks, jutting his chin towards the man cowering behind you. his eyes nearly glow with something you would call excitement.

you were your father’s only child–and regrettably a woman. you had no say in your betrothed. heaven knows you wouldn’t have picked the coward using you as his shield. you had no say in a lot of things—but maybe thanks to this vile man, your luck may have changed.

“he is promised to be.” you answer, the unpleasant cock of your jaw when you answer tells the demonic sorcerer all he needs to know regarding your affection for him. his smirk grows into a genuine smile—pointy white teeth flashing at you. something about him makes your insides bubble. and not in a way akin to fear.

“he is an utter embarrassment.” he snorts, and you smirk for only the faintest second. “very well. i shall accept your proposal. your people can live if you serve me. you will be the crown ruler.” he steps closer, body towering over you and heat radiating between you both in proximity. you don’t step back, and a certain hunger develops in his vision. you’re fiery, even bold enough to meet with him without flinching. you are impressive, even down to your cursed energy. “what is your technique?”

“black widow…i have webs, poison, and superior…childrearing capabilities.” you redden only slightly when you have to explain the perks of your technique. it’s an ancient one, known to form powerful breeds in the past as well as stand on its own in battle. his eyes turn feral, and his undressing gaze is shameless this time as he looks over your body. you are an interesting little thing indeed, and if he hopes to take over this world…he will need a strong wife to produce a long line of strong heirs to forever rule. you are beautiful and spirited.

one of his hands reaches for your face, two thick and calloused fingers tilting your chin up higher so he may see your face in its entirety. yes, you would make good heirs for him. they would be plenty attractive if they took after you as well, something crucial for the success of his bloodline. your cheekbones are shapely and your eyes set in a beautiful bedroom stare. your lips are pouty and full, teeth perfectly indenting your fatter bottom one. his touch is searing your skin in a way you’ve never known. he is at least three times your size and a mystical beast in your world…and your insides are throbbing at his closeness. you’ve never experienced this with your fiancé.

you look at him in a way that’s foreign. he doesn’t know quite what to make of it, except that he enjoys it. he smirks, eyes trailing to your body. it’s covered by the many layers of your kimono, but if your chest was any indication—you’d have no issues bringing heirs for him either. his fingers tighten around your chin, pressing your cheeks together. it pouts your red-painted lips, and you giggle at the carnal enjoyment he seems to get from it.

“u-unhand my b-be-betrothed!” your cowardly fiancé finally says. peeking over your shoulder.

sukuna never looks away from you, only thrusting his trident out into flesh—into the face of the man you’re supposed to marry. he didn’t drop his hold on you, keeping you from looking at the gore.

“you’ve a new betrothed, little thing.” he grins cockily, admiring how you never got fully to your feet. your father had been dumb enough to do so–and your fiance decided to challenge the wrong man at the wrong time. but you, you only rose to your knees, thick lashes batting up at him, one hand still occupied in cupping your soft skin. the trident lowers to your face–not an aimed weapon. a gift. he grins, teeming with insatiable desire and excitement. his mind was made up ages ago–the moment you spoke. he has found his wife, and now he wants her to accept him wholly–to perform for him and him only. “clean the hiten.”

the flame climbing in his eyes made you tingle, even sent a wave of vertigo to your head. you feel the need to please him, the idea of becoming his bride was desirable to no one more than you. he had freed you from a life of serving your father and miserable husband-to-be. he was a powerful ruler–the most feared man alive. and he was strikingly beautiful to you, hence the craze in your stomach when he looks at you in this way. you have always liked to play with fire and the unknown. with your entire clan watching, you lean forward and flatten your tongue against the sharp metal of his weapon. the steel is cool, and the wet liquid warm. if not for the temperature difference, you may not have been able to tell the blade from the blood.

oh he could give you an heir right here. the seductive nature you possess, on your knees and looking up at him so obediently, tongue out and splattered with blood so red it outmatched your lipstain. his thumb strokes your cheekbone, his grin turning wicked. this shall be the capital of his new kingdom, and he would build his legacy alongside you—the perfect mate, handcrafted just for him. clearly, no other man would have been enough to satiate you anyhow. the wife of a man such as he would be widely revered and respected, by none more than himself. he would give you a proper ceremony, he would give you the next little prince or princess once your souls have been bound, and no sooner, even if it’s a torture to himself. it’s a gift he could spare for the woman he shall keep forever. “we will marry by the new moon.”

you lick your lips, leaning back with a nod, “it is my honor, my lord.” you bow your head again, but even that doesn’t hide the eager smile on your lips. you have to be the weirdest woman alive—and it intoxicates him. he leans in, one hand tilting your chin back up to meet his bedroom gaze.

“no. from today on—i am a king. and you…will be the queen of my hard work. and you all,” he turned to your people–now an integration of his own people, “are invited to the wedding.” his sarcastic voice carries over the crowd. he is smug, but you can tell the pride is real. this is…more than mere conquest for him. he would not marry you for sport. something in your heart softens at this, at his proclamation. you know you do not need to fear him at all.

“we will get straight to organizing the ceremony.” you nod, waving in some guards to clear the bodies. no one in the congregation moves–no one speaks. you have to look closely to make sure anyone is even breathing. the silence insults you. you know they’re scared–but can’t they see? this union has saved their lives—has turned them from peasants to lords and ladies in their own right. upon seeing the angry look on your face, your new husband-to-be hoists you to your feet, red eyes zeroed in on the men dragging the corpses away–threatening them to comply.

“you should be celebrating. if my father had continued down his path, we would all be dead! now, you’ll flourish! you should be championing his graciousness!” you announce, the showing of your own spirit only cemented his decision. no concubine of his could stand in your shadow—and he has hardly even touched you. his chest…it was tightening right where his heart was. sukuna never realized affection could cause such physical sensation, but it wasn’t a bad one. he was just acclimating to this, to wanting someone around. to wanting this life after being alone for so long. but he saw it when he looked in your eyes. he saw the future he could have, he felt a fraction of the love, of the completion you will bring to his life. he had long moved on from the concept of love. even sneered at the mere mention of such a hideous joke. his own parents hadn’t loved him. who possibly could?

and why was it a little girl from a random village carved out of the side of a hill outside of the big city? why was it a girl with an ancient powerful technique that had the nerve to look him in his eyes and smile kindly? he didn’t mind not knowing why. as long as this is true. as long as you become his queen and promise to give him your all. the sound of your people cheering his name catches his attention, your sweet face looking at him in wait, such pride on your features. you were giving him your all right in this very moment. yes. the month could not turn quickly enough.

however, ryomen sukuna found that the thirteen days you had to organize some sort of ceremony were well worth the wait. you still spent everyday together, showing him your admittedly beautiful lands and estate, though he spent much of the time planning the renovations to truly make the place fit for royalty. you could hardly believe this was the man of legend, the evil and cruel sorcerer that had even his own kind running the other way sooner than fight him. if he hadn’t slaughtered two men in front of you, you’d be like to dispel those stories entirely. sukuna is…harsh, and rough around the edges, yes. but you can tell it’s more out of routine combined with his cluelessness. he doesn’t know how to be a husband, and he worries if he will be a quick enough learner. all internally, of course. he would not share such insecurities with anyone. it was hard enough to find a willing lover—a wife! you saw past his looks, even his base beastial nature…so could he run you off if he wasn’t a good enough listener or was too protective?

you planned picnics in gardens and walks along the forests. you showed him nests of baby bunnies and crouched in bushes to feed doe. you planted potatoes and peonies alike, and he was enchanted by you. your soul—he felt like he could see it at times. like a bright glow in your chest, a happy yellow that gave you such an angelic glimmer he couldn’t believe that you of all people held such tremendous power over him, such a dark and devastating omnipotence that had never lost a battle. except this one. laying amongst a bed of moss by a lake, your tiny frame snuggled into his side, secured by his right two arms. the sun has started its retreat, the hazy pink and orange complimenting the natural brightness you possess, the black widow of darkness that you are–still shining like the day. it seems you know how to sort your powerful black away from your brilliant brightness—an impressive split to you that he admired; the power to control yourself–to not be consumed as he has been.

the frogs croak in a pitchy symphony, but you’re as happy as can be. you brought a book, one you’ve been reading to him all day. he found the sound of your voice peaceful, the lively way you theorized and asked his opinions was as entertaining as the story itself. under the leafy willow trees, he almost didn’t feel like a bad man at all. he almost felt reborn, at peace. in love. he had accepted this but had not yet said it. it was clear to you that he felt it anyway. a man like him would not tolerate you in the way he does if he was not crazy about you.

the book snaps closed and you’ve turned on your side so that you could meet his eyes. “we’re getting married tomorrow.” you say with a breathy gasp, your smile mending his very soul every time he witnesses it. he nods, giving you that same deadpan look he normally does.

“yes, this is true.” he raises a brow, prompting you to say more. his head is propped up on one of his arms, the other hand caressing your cheek as he is prone to do.

“well–aren’t you excited?” you huff, knowing damn well he just expresses himself with a certain…emotional stuntedness. if the man had it his way, you’d be a week into your honeymoon by now.

“of course, you pest. you have been mine since the day i arrived—but i will be grateful to make this official and binding.” he hums, pinching your cheek affectionately. you scrunch your nose and balance an arm on his chest, crawling closer still. the adoration–that’s it, the foreign look in your eyes. it’s adoration—it makes his own chest flutter. a feared man—now bowed to a mere tiny woman. he’s annoyed by himself, so he rolls his eyes as you approach.

you match the gesture, raising a brow. “how romantic, my beloved.” you snicker, and this time he tugs your hair. “hey! i meant all the eye rolling and grumbling!” you squeal, laughing. he didn’t pull hard enough to hurt–just to annoy you like you annoy him.

“brat of a woman. seems tonight’s sleep alone will be my last peaceful one.” he smirks, closing his eyes to enjoy the peaceful scene–even if you two are mercilessly taunting each other. he appreciated the humor.

you scoff, playfully pouting. “only cause you’ll be so enticed by me every night–”

it was his turn to scoff. “you couldn’t handle me every night. you’re an idiot.” he says, peeking an eye open to see you scowling at him. even that was ridiculously cherished to him.

“tch–you don’t know for certain. but i will be pleasing my husband every time he needs.” you purr, holding his eyes. it was only now that it hit him; you are attracted to him. you’re not looking past his grotesque form, you love what you see. until now, he assumed the power and promise of safety was enough, the companionship he could provide. but no, no, that adoration has always been there. that want, since the day you seduced him in the first place.

“mm. i’m sure. i have no doubts, kozō.” he hums, his deep voice a comfort to you–as well as the lazy grin that spreads across his features when you lean up to bite his bicep—well what parts of it you could fit in your mouth.

the next day, he was the first to arrive to the scene of your ceremony. it was nicer than most, even he knew that. weddings of the time were often not love related at all. just practical arrangements between the aristocrats. so there were no cheering townspeople, no lofty ceilings and stuffy rooms. just the sakura tree with her leaves rustling in the sweet gentle breeze that blew through the gardens as he strolled up to it, following your cherry blossom path to his spot. it was scenic–he should have known that you would opt to marry in the open, in love with the outdoors as you are. the sky is so clear today, another good omen in his eyes. you didn’t leave him waiting long, a different kind of rustling catching his attention—coming from the corner of his eyes.

there you are, in all your beauty. jūnihitoe and all, you looked every bit the queen you would soon become. your heavy layers sway with you as you walk to meet him, that sweet grin pulling at your cheeks that makes his skin crawl–in a good way. he reaches hands out to greet you, and you slide your hand into the one nearest you–his bottom right. you are stunning, even your makeup was subtle, only highlighting your mesmerizing beauty. there wouldn’t be another girl like you for a thousand years.

“my king,” you greet, your voice like liquid gold. “finally, our big day.” you grin even wider–toothy and precious. it betrays just how excited you are, and has sukuna giving you a rare grin of his own, lopsided as it was—you squeeze his hand in appreciation, grabbing his lower left too.

“my queen,” he hums back, bringing his eyes back to your face, “you look beautiful. are we married yet?” he raises a brow, earning a giggle from you. it seems he must be excited as well.

“well you would traditionally have to kiss me to really seal the union.” you tuck your cheek to your shoulder, fluttering those lashes at him in that adorable way you do. he rolls his eyes–too overwhelmed at the warmth that courses through his veins just from looking at you. it’s nearly pitiful. he uses his free hands to cup your cheeks, towering frame leaning down to mash his lips on yours. it’s hard, and you can feel the nip of his teeth, but it’s perfect. he softens into it a second later, his hands dropping yours in favor of gripping your hips, pulling you closer. all you can feel is him; muscles and warm skin–wandering hands and wet mouths gasping for breath every so often just to instinctually pull and lean closer to each other, until your skin is too hot under the layers of your dress and you need relief.

you step back, cheeks flushed, taking your swollen lip between your lip–seemingly thinking of what you want to say. that simple expression has all the blood rushing to his cock, a simple grunt spilling past his lips. he knows what that look means despite this being his first experience, it’s carved into the very marrow of his bones; it’s time to put an heir in you. he steps forward again to close the distance, chest heaving against yours. “your quarters, now.”

you nod slowly, so impatient and needy you can barely stand it—the walk to your room has your knees wobbling. you can feel his intense stare focused on your back–and his cock pressing into it too. your tongue is producing more saliva than usual, head already a little dizzy just from the imagination of what would come next. the heavy doors of your private chambers close with a prominent thud, and his hands cover your frame in seconds. he’s exploring, you realize, combining rough and soft presses over your body with one set of hands; using the other to help you out of those pesky robes. you’re still pressed to his chest, your now bare back soaking in the stability of his decorated abdomen. you can see the pile of fabric on the floor, his hands now pawing at your breasts—feeling them in his palms, pinching and toying with the nipples, chuckling in satisfaction as they harden in his fingers. paired with your pleasurable gasps, he doesn’t have to ask if you like it. your head rolls back to look up at him, leaning all your weight back to give yourself over fully, trusting his will with your body.

he gently shoves you toward your bed, knowing you wouldn’t be able to stand much longer. as soon as your back hits the silk below you, his figure looms above you, standing between your legs that dangle off of the plush mattress below you. “my wife…” he muses, fingers trailing down your thighs, undergarments vanishing next. you look so inviting, so warm, it was fitting for a woman like you. he’s read books—he’s not braindead. he has researched the human body–the woman’s body—extensively in his spare time. like any skilled warrior, he had to come prepared for battle. above all, he trusted himself to know what to do to please his queen, and he trusted you to be vocal enough to assist him along the way. his hands slide back up over the swells of your thighs, creeping closer to your cunt, you suck in a sharp breath as his fingers ghost along your clit, tracing his way down your lips, splitting them…everything was slow…exploratory. it still felt shocking and nice, his touch in general had you buzzing—but he’s learning how to touch you, seeing the shift of your brow has his fingers moving faster, confidence bolstered by your little gasps as he rubs little circles over your nerves. his own desire was quickly mounting—outweighing his wishes to be careful and please his new wife. you were a strong woman anyhow, no? you wouldn’t have captured his soul in the way you did if you couldn’t handle the brunt of his devotion, after all…

so his fingers move faster, his top set of hands sliding up your abdomen to knead at your breasts—making your eyes widen at the new rush of pleasure that comes with the simple tweaks and pulls of your nipples coupled with the foreign delicious tingle his calloused fingers evoke with the perfectly timed circles he rubs over your pussy.

“oh—it burns,” you whine, placing a hand over your stomach. he only grins in response, hovering between your legs like a ravenously wild animal, the devilish glint in his eye had every part of that burning fire growing and licking your insides. he finds it so cute that you don’t even know what you’re experiencing, that he gets to give you your first pleasure ever. the sadistic side of him relishes that look of confusion on your face as your orgasm takes you by surprise, your breathy moans are truly the most beautiful thing he’s ever heard—and he thinks that maybe all the pain and suffering was actually worth it; if this is his reprieve. if your soft body and loving eyes would be waiting for him everyday, then surely he would learn how to be the perfect partner for you, and this night is all about the beginning of learning.

it’s a bliss like you’ve never known, a slight fog coming over your brain and vision as your body pulses with delirium, lightning like sparks running through your very chakra, heart picking up again as he lifts your legs to his hips and lets his pants fall to the floor. all you feel is a warm, wet rod of skin resting against your fluttering cunt, but his view is much better. his wide, lengthy shaft is going to tear your virgin hole apart, the angry red tip was oozing—needy. he was just as bad as you, having fantasized about this moment since the day you licked the blood from his blade. you squirmed impatiently beneath him, whining out.

“i’m ready, don’t think too hard.” you giggle softly, knowing something of what to expect. it was to hurt, make you sore—but with time and the proper readying, you would be fine. you could feel your own fluids sliding down the crack of your ass, so you knew you were prepared. “i know it’s gonna sting—but i want to make you feel good…” you nod again, holding around the wrists of his upper pair of arms, which hold your face in their hands. his lower set keeps your legs secured on either side of his hips, and it’s clear you don’t know the inner war waging inside his mind. does he give into his desires and likely destroy your little cunt or does he rein it in and learn how to please you fully…perhaps both are achievable. he is an expert and a warrior–now a king! he can take what’s his and find the pleasure for himself that lurks between your legs.

with your boasts of preparedness, he leans back and sheaths his fat cock in your walls, snapping his pelvis into your hips. you wail out, legs jerking back in his hands, head thrashing from side to side. tears instantly cloud your eyes, and he loves it. the glossy look you give him, full of cock for the first time, he carved it into memory. your hands claw at his beefy biceps, unable to process the shocking pressure you feel all of a sudden. it truly does sting, and you feel yourself squeeze down around the foreign object in order to fully relax. he seems to wait until your squirming stops, until your pussy waves the white flag of surrender and acclimates to his size.

“there, you really can fit it all.” he muses, seemingly impressed. you whine softly, words dying in your throat as the tears finally slip past your waterline. he leans in to lick them off your face, long tongue pointedly tracing the salty line up your skin, making you gasp at the sensation. he finally starts to move, short strokes hammering into the little flap keeping him from bullying his cock any further. he grunts out in satisfaction, your tight cavern was obviously made for him with the way you clutch so perfectly around his dick—nothing could compare to the liquid smoke rolling through his body at this very moment, his hips pulling back further as you loosened your grip around his arms, soft moans pouring from pouty lips. “you look so wonderful like this, wife of mine.”

he meant it to, your breasts jumping with every force of his cock, your gorgeously arranged hair now spread out around your head like a built in spotlight, cheeks darkened with heat and eyes rolled back in your head—body overcome with all the ecstasy. he shifts your legs to his shoulders, earning a sharp cry as he leans in, folding you in half and slamming himself into your cervix just to growl angrily at the stoppage. you’re sure you’re seeing colors that don’t exist, floating orbs of color melding your vision, you go cross-eyed. his cock drags through your walls, letting you feel every vein and ridge to the appendage. his hands held your hips, using your own curves as leverage to make you scream even louder—that burning stretch building its way up in your stomach again.

“sukuna!” you yelp, hugging around his neck. your pleas drive him wild. he knew it was attainable, to fuck you like he wanted and give you everything you had ever wanted too. he presses his lips to your neck, nipping and sucking—fully nibbling and biting to leave marking bruises. the tickling pain has your legs jerking and pussy spasming out of control, the clamping rhythm causing your husband to groan your name in response to your chant of his own.

“cum for me again, so i may fill you with my heirs.” he demands, his voice a gravelly purr against the shell of your ear. lightning strikes again, and you have no choice but to obey his command—the idea of growing his children too appealing to ignore. you were so worth waiting for–but he was now greedy and impatient, he would breed you daily, needing you to be round and hobbling before the year’s end. marriage was step one of claiming his woman, impregnating her was another, and your cute cries of begging only made his cock throb inside your choking heat.

“yes!! oh–gonna cum for you, love you so much—give you a whole army’a heirs if you wan’!” you babble back, your brain nearly oozing out of your ears as you melt into the pillow, legs trying to close around his hips, body violently tossing and turning with the force of your second orgasm. he watches how your face scrunches up and your mouth drops open–your little hand pushing at his chest as if you couldn’t possibly take one more stroke of his cock—but you must. he holds your hand against his heart, rolling his hips forward. the little ring of frothy blood at the base of his cock has his own orgasm crashing over him like a tidal wave.

“good little wife, now don’t spill a drop.” he grunts, leaning back to let your body twitch as he uses the warmth of your cum to move without resistance, heaving a deep sigh, his lip between his teeth as he stills—warmth spilling inside of you that eases all the aching, flooding you with relief. it feels so good you moan a little from that alone, swiveling your hips to instinctively milk his weepy cock dry. he assists you, smirking. he knows the monster he’s just created, and now he’ll never get away with cumming anywhere but your gorgeous cunt. his hands map out your curves, his cock plugging you full. he meant what he said. one hand slides up further, petting your hair back. he can’t fight the lopsided smile on his face as he watches your pinched brows ease, your heaving chest calm. you finally open your sleepy eyes, grinning up at him. you were ethereal.

“lay down, want to snuggle.” you whine out in demand. and what kind of husband could deny such a powerful request? it’s easy for two of his hands to slide under each thigh, the other supporting your back as he rolls the two of you over. you grin in satisfaction, leaning up to kiss the corner of his mouth. “that was amazin’...feels so good to..make love.” you giggle a little shyly. his fingers toy with the ends of your hair, a lazy smile on his lips as well.

“mm, it does. you are the perfect woman for a man like me.” he says with as much gentleness as you’ve ever heard from him. your eyes sparkle and that only makes his heart squeeze uncomfortably again. another hand rubs circles against your bare back, and he nods his head to his chest. “rest now, little queen.”

you give him another toothy grin and bury your face against his pillowy chest, dainty fingers tracing the black lines decorating his skin. he never pulls out of you, just as soothed by the feeling of you as the reverse. he’s not sure who fell asleep first, but he does know he cannot wait to wake tomorrow morning. there’s coronations to plan.

tags: @neon-crow @skypperlegacy @gis4greenandgreenisgre4t @secondos-slut @alltimenogoaway-blog @tragedyofabrokensoul + reply in the comments to be tagged!!

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makoodles · 1 year

Text

tìtunu | tsu'tey (part 4 | nsfw)

pairing: tsu'tey x human fem reader

word count: 10k words

warnings: nsfw, jealousy, hurt/comfort, size difference, p in v sex, doggy-style, rough (?) sex

notes: i really though that i was finished with this, but y'all got me with the asks about jealous and protective tsu'tey 😭 (also this gif makes me fucking FERALLLL)

read it on ao3

part one | part two | part three (nsfw) | part 4 (nsfw) masterlist

Tsu’tey doesn’t think he’s ever been so smug in his whole life.

He survived the battle with the Sky People, he has healed from his wounds and come back even stronger, and he has been successful in his mating advances with his chosen mate.

The fact that his chosen mate was one of the little sky demons that he hates so much, was a surprise to the whole village (he had surprised himself too, truthfully) but everything is different with you. You are not destructive, you are not harmful – you study the flora and fauna of his planet with the reverence of a wide-eyed child, and he finds it terribly endearing. You are so small, and his planet can be such a harsh place for one as soft as a human. It’s a constant source of frustration and concern, despite his best efforts to handle and minimise possible risks.

“You are certain?” He demands of the Sky Person in front of him.

The man is one of the so-called scientists that live in the pathetic excuse for housing that the alien demons had built in the forest after the rest of the Sky People had been forced off the planet. There’s not many of them; the ones who stayed were approved by the few loyal demons, and they are largely respectful of the native populations as they try to integrate as much as they are allowed. That does not mean that Tsu’tey trusts them, and it certainly doesn’t mean that he likes them.

“Yes,” The little man in front of him says, visibly nervous. He swallows thickly, his heavy breaths fogging up his odd little mask. “Yes, we tested all the fruit you brought, and they all came up safe for human consumption. A human digestive system wouldn’t be able to break down something like meat from Pandoran animals, but the fruits you brought should be fine. Chemically, it’s quite similar to fruits we have back on Earth-”

Tsu’tey just grunts. He does not care about Earth's fruits. All he wants to know is whether he can feed you some of the fruits that he has foraged, and now that he has gotten his answer he is not inclined to stand around and listen to the little man bumble along any longer.

Without another word he turns and strides away, reaching his pa’li and pulling himself astride her with ease before urging her forward into the forest. At a swift pace, he reaches the village in no time and from there he moves quickly to find you.

Unsurprisingly, he finds you beneath one of the pxiut trees. You have your notebook open in front of you as you lay on your belly making your silly little notes, totally absorbed in your work. As he approaches, he takes the opportunity to look you over.

You appear content, head bowed over your work as you write. The bright sunshine filters in through the trees overhead, sending dappled patterns over your exposed skin. Seeing your strange human form dressed in the traditional clothes of the Na’vi always sets Tsu’tey alight, and his tail swishes appreciatively as he admires you.

“Hello, demon,” He murmurs when he reaches you, lowering himself to his knees out of pure habit. It has become second-nature to lower himself to your level when he’s around you – he enjoys the closeness of it.

You hum. Though you don’t lift your eyes from your work, a smile is beginning to curve your lips. “Is that any way to greet your mate?”

Tsu’tey’s lips quirk in response, and he leans in so his nose is nuzzling into your hair. You lean into him in a move that’s mostly automatic, and he feels a flare of smug pleasure at the ease with which you melt against his side.

“My little demon,” He corrects himself with a sardonic little grin, enjoying the way you roll your eyes fondly. “I have brought you food. Will you eat?”

Your eyes dart to his immediately, visibly uncertain. He already knows what you’re thinking, and he tries not to wince.

“It is safe,” He says quickly. “I asked one of the tawtute. They did tests.”

Your expression changes then, your grin growing sharper. “Aw, look at you taking care of me, huh?”

He can tell by your tone of voice that you’re teasing him, but that doesn’t stop the swell of pride in his chest. Yes, he is taking care of you. It’s always gratifying when his efforts are noticed, and he tries not to look too smug as he reaches out to touch you.

You are laying on your belly with your notebook in front of you, so his hand comes to rest on the back of one of your thighs. You are so small beneath him, so soft and squishy compared to the lean hardness of most Na’vi bodies. He can’t resist squeezing just slightly, just to watch the squidge of your thighs poke out between his spread fingers.

You roll your eyes at him – you know exactly what he’s doing, after all. He has not been very successful at keeping his fascination with your little pliable body a secret, and why should he? You are his mate, and you belong to him as surely as he belongs to you. Getting to touch you like this is a privilege belonging only to him, and he wishes to get as much out of it as he can.

“I always take care of you.” He says, and your smile softens.

“Yeah, big guy, you do.” You say, and the fondness in your voice is so obvious that it makes Tsu’tey’s hardened heart tremble a little in his chest.

His hand slides up your plush thighs and comes to a rest over the swell of your backside, relishing the heat of your skin even through the tewng covering you. You’re even softer here, nothing but squidge, and he allows himself a moment to indulge in squeezing you here too as you laugh.

“Alright, pervert,” You snicker, closing your notebook and pushing yourself up. “You can’t just start feeling me up – we’re in public.”

Tsu’tey’s hand falls away as you move to stand, and he has to fight the urge to pout hard. “The People know that we are mated in the eyes of Eywa.”

“That doesn’t mean that it’s okay to traumatise them all like this.” You snort. “I don’t think anyone wants to see you groping me in broad daylight.”

Many of the People have a sort of morbid curiosity about how mating with a tawtute works, so Tsu’tey isn’t entirely certain that you’re correct in that assumption. There are many who would be only too pleased to watch. But he doesn’t argue; you are beginning to push yourself to your feet, so he stands too.

“What is pervert?” He asks, looking down at you as you stretch your arms overhead and yawn.

Truthfully he gets distracted for a moment, admiring your soft belly and exposed skin in Na’vi clothes – if he could burn all your human coverings without you getting angry at him, he certainly would. He wants to see you dressed in the clothes of his People all the time.

You laugh as if he had said something very funny. “A pervert is what you are.”

“Is it a bad thing?” He wonders, reaching out so that his hand rests on the back of your neck across your shoulders.

Your eyes flutter closed as he kneads lightly at the base of your neck. “No,” You murmur softly. “Not when it’s you.”

He relaxes, nodding decisively before reaching for your small hand. “Come. You will eat and watch me train.”

It’s become almost like a routine for him to drag you with him to practice fighting or sparring. While you don’t come with him every day, he has managed to bring you often enough that the sight of you trailing behind him towards the training ground is a familiar one for the young warriors in training.

As he leads you towards the training grounds, he sees the few young warriors gathered around the archery practice range turn to watch his approach. Their eyes flicker towards you – though they never say anything about it, he knows that their curiosity is burning at the sight of you at Tsu’tey’s hip. The apprehension and caution about the Sky People is still very much embedded in their hearts and minds, and yet you are probably the least intimidating thing they’ve ever seen in their lives.

Tsu’tey imagines that his own interest and desire for you only fuels their curiosity further. He had gained somewhat of a reputation for himself before he had met you; he is the strongest warrior in the clan, he had been trained from a very young age for leadership, and he is a prominent and well-respected figure within the village. He was much desired as a mate by many women in the clan.

So when he chose you, the small and soft demon that is entirely unsuited to their planet, it was a source of surprise to many. Yet he is lucky – his people are supportive, even when they do not understand his choice of mate. Even if some of the women remain slightly disgruntled with him.

“You will sit over here,” He pushes you gently towards a clearing, out of the way of the other Na’vi that tower over you, to a spot where you will be safe. “You can see well, from here.”

It’s important that you have a good view, after all. He likes it when you watch him – it’s satisfying to give you a display of his physical strength and his skills, to remind you that he is a strong mate for you.

You just sit down where he’s directed you, and smile eagerly at him. He knows that you enjoy watching him too, and his tail swishes in anticipation. If you are pleased with what you see, it can only mean good things in store for him later.

“What are you up to today, then?” You ask, lounging back in the soft mossy ground against the stump of a tree.

“Spear training, and then hand to hand combat.” He says, reaching into the small bag around his waist. He pulls out the soft wrapped leaf package that he had prepared earlier and hands it to you. “Fruit. Eat.”

You take the wrapped fruit from him and peer at it with curiosity, poking at it with your small fingers. You seem pleased, and take a breath before lifting your mask so you can pop the fruit in your mouth before replacing it.

“It’s good,” You say, smiling, before tilting your head up at him with a faux-innocent expression. “So, do I get to see you all oiled up and wrestling some other super muscly man?”

That makes him chuckle, and he reaches out to stroke a single finger over the top of your head. “Would you like to see that?”

“Oh yeah,” You hum, and your grin behind your mask is unmistakably suggestive. “Definitely.”

His own grin grows sharp, and he bends on one knee so that he can be at eye-level with you. “I can oil myself up and show you wrestling later, after eclipse.”

That makes you laugh, tilting your head back with delight. “Oh, that’s so corny.”

He has no idea what that means, corny, but you look happy so it must be a good thing. He leans down and kisses the top of your head before straightening up. From behind, he can hear some of the younger warriors in training begin to call his name.

He gives you one last lingering look before turning and making his way towards the others.

Training takes the better half of the afternoon.

He demonstrates spear throwing techniques, he corrects postures and methods, he shouts criticisms and praises by turn. Every so often he glances towards you, mostly out of habit – you have pulled out your little book at some point, and are making notes again. Every single time, without fail, you look up as though you feel his eyes on you. And every time, you beam at him and his heart stumbles a little in his chest. Burying his reactions as best he can in front of his fellow warriors, the most Tsu’tey allows himself is the flick of a single ear.

When they finally do get to hand to hand training, he sees you visibly perk up and his ego inflates significantly. It is so very gratifying to be able to train and show off in front of you, especially when he successfully overcomes his opponents.

He can feel your watchful eyes on him all the time, pushing him harder and harder as he wrestles with warrior after warrior. The young ones in training watch on too, eager to learn, but the only gaze he truly cares about is yours.

Eventually, he takes a break from tumbling around the square that had been cleared off specifically for training and steps to the side so that he can observe some of the young ones in training practice their form. While he attempts to focus on calling out constructive criticism, he can’t stop his eyes from darting towards you occasionally.

Though your notebook is splayed out front of you, you are making no effort at all to hide the fact that you’re watching him. His chest is heaving and a thin layer of sweat coats his body, and he can feel the weight of your stare dropping slowly over the length of him. It makes him feel hot and itchy, and he has to fight to keep himself from marching right over to you and doing something very stupid indeed.

He is so distracted by your stare that he almost doesn’t notice when one of the other warriors sidles up to him. It is Takuk, and he is watching him with an amused sort of expression.

“Brother,” He greets him, offering the customary gesture of respect. “You are distracted today.”

His statement is nothing but the truth, but Tsu’tey bristles anyway. Takuk had been a hunter trainee not too long ago himself, but has developed into a man in the last year; he has claimed an ikran, he wears a battle band around his waist, but he has not yet taken a mate. Tsu’tey dislikes the way he is looking at you, considering you are already claimed.

“I am not distracted.” Tsu’tey lies through his teeth. His tone is sharp enough that he hopes it will dissuade Takuk from this line of conversation.

Takuk just hums, clearly unconvinced. He has grown irritatingly confident since his iknimaya. He looks over to where you’re sitting; you’ve lowered your head once more to scribble in your book, and Takuk takes the opportunity to squint at you.

“What is it like, being with one of them?” He asks, casting a slant-eyed glance back at Tsu’tey. “Is she not too… small?”

Tsu’tey’s tail lashes around his ankles, though he keeps his expression carefully contained. He is proud to be mated to you, but he does not like questions like this. He does not like to think that Takuk is imagining you like that.

“She is small,” He acknowledges, his voice clipped. “But not too small.”

It is enough to answer his question without giving him details, but Takuk grins as though what he has said is much more revealing than it truly is. When he looks back over in your direction again, Tsu’tey tenses.

Takuk notices, and sighs. “Brother, I am only asking. We are curious about your mate. You are so protective of her.”

Tsu’tey rolls his shoulders, considering. This is not untrue. The curiosity of his people is blatant, and mostly harmless; perhaps he has been too protective, but he has always been a private man.

“It works.” He says at last. It feels a little as though the words are being pulled from him by force. “She is small, and strange, but it works.”

Takuk’s ears twitch forwards in amusement, but he wisely decides not to make a smart comment.

“Even though she cannot make tsaheylu?” He wonders, low and quiet.

Ah. So that is the source of all their curiosity. Tsu’tey supposes he cannot blame them for that. It is a most unusual relationship he has with you, after all. Tsaheylu is the building block of all life on Pandora, and it is how every living creature interacts with the world around them. To have taken a mate that is unable to make this bond would be almost unthinkable to many Na’vi. Tsu’tey supposes he cannot blame them for that morbid curiosity – it would have been unthinkable for him once, too.

“Even though she cannot make tsaheylu.” Tsu’tey confirms quietly. “She sees me anyway.”

Takuk is thoughtfully silent at that, which Tsu’tey is mercifully grateful for. That was a little too vulnerable for his tastes, and he ends up clearing his throat and straightening his shoulders in an attempt to regain some of his authority.

“Back to training.” He says firmly, reaching out to push at Takuk’s head. “No more making eyes at my mate.”

Takuk just laughs, his ears twitching with good humour. “It is not me you need to tell, brother,” He says, before tilting his head pointedly in your direction. “It is the trainees that are so curious about her.”

Tsu’tey follows his gaze. Sure enough, you are no longer alone in your spot at the side of the training grounds. Several of the hunter trainees are crouched near you, watching you with big curious eyes as you chat to one of the young Na’vi that has been bold enough to creep forward. It is At’u, one of the foremost young men in training.

Tsu’tey’s ears flatten when he sees the way At’u’s tail is coiling. It is the universal signal of interest among their kind, and the audacity of the younglings infuriate him.

Without waiting another moment, Tsu’tey strides your way. He can hear Takuk starting to laugh from behind him, but he ignores him; he is precision-focused on you and the jumped up little shits around you.

When At’u reaches out to touch the hair on your head, Tsu’tey’s vision goes black around the edges. Anger bubbles up in his chest; curiosity is one thing, but having the insolence to touch you right in front of Tsu’tey’s eyes is another thing.

When Tsu’tey reaches you, you look up at him with a smile. He doesn’t return it; he’s too busy levelling a dark glare At’u’s way, his ears flat and tail held low. The youngling’s tail coils low in response, but he does not move away from you.

Tsu’tey hisses at him, baring his sharp teeth as he rounds on the rest of the trainees. They scatter almost instantly, scrambling to flee back to the training area. At’u flees too, flinching hard before following after his friends.

“Tsu’tey!” You hiss at him, visibly horrified. “That was so rude! They were only curious-”

He’s still glaring at the backs of the young trainees as he crouches down in front of you, but after a moment he turns to look at you. Your brows are scrunched, your eyes flared a little in outrage as you scowl at him. Oh, you look angry with him. It’s more adorable than you probably mean it to be.

“They do not know their place.” He mutters, scooching a little closer to you.

“They’re children!” You protest, rolling your eyes.

“They are training to be hunters and warriors.” Tsu’tey grumbles. As cute as you are when you’re angry, he doesn’t like being on the receiving end of it. “They know what they’re doing. They will be eligible to pick a mate after iknimaya.”

That makes you pause, and your eyes flicker carefully over his face.

“Are you…” You begin slowly. “Are you jealous? They’re going to pick Na’vi mates. Besides, I already have a mate.”

Warm satisfaction pools in his chest, and he scooches closer to you yet again. Something deep within him eases now that you’re within arms reach.

“Did you not see the way they were twitching their ears at you?” He murmurs, brow furrowing. You hesitate, and his tail lashes in agitation. “I knew it! You do not even see how they act-”

“Oh, hush,” You sigh, reaching out to pet the side of his face. “You’re being silly. Why would I want anyone else when I have a big handsome beefcake like you, huh?”

Tsu’tey has no idea what beefcake is, but you sound pleased when you say it so he imagines it is a good thing.

Your thumb strokes over his cheek, and then you frown and reach out to wipe under his nose. “You’re bleeding.”

He had received an elbow to the face at some point during hand to hand combat, but it feels only mildly tender now. Still though, when you begin smoothing away the blood with your thumb he leans into your hands. It feels good to be cared for.

“Does it hurt?” You wonder, peering closer as you try to assess the damage.

“No,” Tsu’tey snorts, a little offended. How weak do you think he is? But then you start to pull away, taking your little hands away from his face, and he’s quick to add, “A little. Will you care for me later?”

That makes you laugh, and his ears wiggle smugly when you lean forward to bump your forehead against his.

“Yes,” You whisper, grinning up at him. “I’ll take real good care of you.”

His tail thumps off the ground, his mouth beginning to curl in an eager smile. Your eyes are lingering around his sweat-slick chest and your thumb strokes over his bloodied nose, gentle over his bruised skin. He fights the urge to lean in further into your grasp, though it’s difficult.

“You watched me train?”

You huff a soft laugh. “Of course. Couldn’t tear my eyes away. You looked good, big guy.”

Tsu’tey swears he feels his whole heart thump heavily in his chest. There is a bone-deep satisfaction that settles over him at the confirmation that you see him as someone worthy, a good mate. It soothes the edges of his jagged pride and makes him feel whole.

“I am happy to have pleased you,” He murmurs sincerely, tucking his ears low as he meets your eyes. Your eyes soften, and you brush the last remnants of blood from his nose before taking your hand back. “Would you like to watch further?”

You hum in thought for a moment, before shrugging. “I think I’ll head back to the kelku. I wanted to cross-check some notes I took today with my other research.”

Tsu’tey has never been able to make much sense of your science talk, but he inclines his head in acknowledgement. “Then I will meet you back at home, ma’yawntutsyìp.”

For the rest of the afternoon, Tsu’tey’s feels as though he’s crawling out of his skin. He runs through the rest of his duties on autopilot, offering criticism and compliments by turns to the young warriors and hunters throughout the day, but his mind is preoccupied with thoughts of you the whole time.

It’s a struggle to stay focused. He keeps thinking of your eyes tracing over his chest and stomach, of your soft hands on his face, of your coy promise to take care of him later. It feels almost physically painful to force himself to finish out training with the others, but he pushes himself anyway.

It’s nearing evening when he finally begins to finish up, delivering his last few instructions to the young hunters as they begin to ready themselves to return to the village. He’s antsy, watching impatiently as the young ones push and laugh at each other.

When Takuk approaches him again, he has to fight not to roll his eyes – he has picked up too many of your little human mannerisms already.

“Your aim has improved.” Tsu’tey grunts, preoccupied with slinging his bow back over his shoulder.

Takuk perks up, visibly pleased with the compliment. He inclines his head in thanks, before leaning his weight casually back on one leg as he watches Tsu’tey pack up. He’s no doubt noticing that he’s moving with an unusual sense of urgency.

“Your mate is waiting for you, hm?” He asks, his mouth twitching.

Tsu’tey’s tail lashes in warning. He doesn’t like Takuk’s teasing tone, but he can’t help the anticipation that’s building in his stomach at the thought of getting back to you after your teasing throughout the day.

“Yes,” Tsu’tey grunts. “I will bring her fruit.”

Takuk nods, clearly approving, before looking to his feet. He appears to be thinking, and Tsu’tey waits as patiently as he can for him to speak again.

“I am thinking of taking a mate soon,” The young warrior says at last, still keeping his gaze low. “Do.. Do you think that Kaey’ra would have me?”

Tsu’tey pauses to give his question some thought. “Yes. I think she would. It would be a good match.”

Takuk’s shoulders loosen, and his ears rotate forward in satisfaction. It is a confidence booster for Tsu’tey too – it is nice to have his opinion so valued by one of his past students, now a peer. He is happy for his friend, and Tsu’tey claps him on the shoulder.

“I must plan a courting display,” Takuk murmurs, his brow lowering thoughtfully. “I will-”

He cuts himself off, staring somewhere behind Tsu’tey’s shoulder. Frowning, Tsu’tey turns to follow his gaze only to be met with the sight of one of the young warriors approaching him with his tail tucked low between his legs.

“Ma’Tsu’tey,” He greets, his ears flattened anxiously against his head. “I am sorry-”

“What.” Tsu’tey interrupts, his eyes narrowing. The sight of the youngling all twisted and anxious leaves a bad feeling settling into his stomach. “What is it?”

The youngling looks as though he would rather be anywhere else other than right there. “It’s just.. Your mate is-”

Tsu’tey’s stomach plummets to his feet, and he takes a step forward. His teeth bare without conscious thought. “Where is she?”

The young hunter flinches, but to his credit he doesn’t step back. “She is with tsahìk-”

It feels as though Tsu’tey’s brain has been filled with static panic. He’s hardly aware of turning away from the warriors and racing away, his feet pounding hard against the ground as he shoulders his way past the young trainees that are still lingering around the training area.

The only reason for you to be with Mo’at is that you are injured, and the thought fills Tsu’tey with a bone-deep, nauseating fear. He was only apart from you for a few hours at most – how could you have gotten hurt in such a short space of time? He thinks of your fragile bones, your thin skin, your diminutive stature; he knows that the answer is all too easily.

He can’t help himself from conjuring up worst-case scenarios – he imagines you broken and bleeding, unconscious, crying from pain, calling for him when he’s too far away to hear you. He feels sick as he reaches the village, making a beeline for the tsahìk’s hut.

“Move,” He snarls at someone who walks across his path. He’s blind with panic, hardly even sees who he’s snarling at. They jump out of his way as he storms past, practically diving his way towards the tsahìk’s home.

Usually, Tsu’tey prides himself on his grace and agility. He has always been the best warrior in the clan, and one of the most decorated hunters – his training has left him swift and dextrous. And yet now he finds himself stumbling, acting like a fear-stricken fool as he ducks his way into the hut.

Mo’at doesn’t even glance up at his unceremonious entrance, though you do. You’re perched carefully in the corner, with the tsahìk hunched over you as she carefully wraps your forearm with plant-fibre bandages. The whole space smells like the medicinal herbs used for healing – he guesses that she’s spread healing paste over you.

Something loosens in his chest at the sight of you unbloodied and conscious, though he doesn’t relax just yet.

“Oh, shit.” You sigh when you see him, before offering him a weak little smile.

“What has happened?” He demands, ducking his way under the dried herbs hanging from the woven ceiling as he makes his way towards you.

Mo’at still doesn’t look away from her work. “Where are your manners, Tsu’tey?”

Her tone is sharp enough to chasten him, but he does not relent completely. He comes to a stop over Mo’at’s shoulder and attempts to lean over her in an attempt to see what she’s doing, his tail whipping anxiously around his feet.

When he spots your arm, he makes a wounded sort of noise. Your wrist is all swollen, and if he looks closely he can see the beginning of discolouration around the joint as it begins to bruise. He ends up dropping to his knees beside you. In his haste, he almost pushes Mo’at aside, oblivious to the sharp look she sends his way.

“What happened, ma’muntxate?” He demands, reaching out to take your wrist in his hand so he can get a better look.

Mo’at knocks his hand away with a resounding slap before hissing a sharp warning at him. “Do not touch while I am bandaging!”

“Is it broken?” He asks, whirling to face the tsahìk. His tail curls around your thigh, squeezing tight as he seeks reassurance in the form of your soft, warm flesh.

“It’s fine-” You start to say, but Tsu’tey isn’t listening to your attempts at placating him.

“It is a sprain.” Mo’at says. Her tone implies that she is sick of dealing with him already, but he pays her no mind.

“How did this happen?” He asks yet again, shuffling forward on his knees so that the bulk of his body is curling around you. There is no danger here in Mo’at’s tent, but it makes him feel better when he hunches protectively around you.

“It’s no big deal,” You say quickly, clearly attempting damage control. “I just- I fell, and I landed a little awkwardly-”

“Fell where?”

That makes you pause, and Tsu’tey’s expression flattens as he waits for your answer.

“Um.. The ladder,” You murmur, glancing down at your lap. “The ladder that leads to the kelku. I slipped climbing up it, and fell. But it wasn’t from very high.”

He hadn’t thought it possible, but he feels his stomach sink even further at that. Fuck, it was his fault. The vine ladder he had woven for you was only meant to be a temporary measure to help you climb up into your shared kelku in the high trees until he could get around to building a more permanent solution. He had considered the possibility of you falling, but never seriously – not even children would fall so easily.

He must look stricken somehow, because your own face begins to contort in response.

“It was my fault,” You say hurriedly. “I wasn’t paying proper attention, and I slipped. I’m sorry, I didn’t-”

He lets out a soft, low sound, before shaking his head. His jaw is clenched tight. What a stupid mistake for him to make. His tiny soft mate, so frail and weak. He should have known that the ladder was too risky for you to be climbing up and down. Only a sprain; he is so lucky that it was only a sprain. What would he have done if it was something worse?

Mo’at clicks her tongue, then sits back and surveys her handiwork. It’s as neat and meticulous as ever, the bandages wrapped tight around your injured wrist.

“There,” Mo’at says simply. “Rest it. It will be just fine in a few days.”

Tsu’tey hardly hears her at all. He’s too busy staring at the bandages, pale green against your bruised skin. This should never have happened. He’s meant to protect you, to keep you safe. That’s what he had promised you. What kind of mate is he, if he can’t even provide a safe way for you to enter the home he had offered you?

He’s pulled out of his cycle of self-flagellation by Mo’at swatting ungently at his head.

“Take your mate and leave,” She says, shooting him an unimpressed look. “No sulking. Just watch after her.”

“Yes, tsahìk.” He says quietly, inclining his head towards her out of respect.

When he turns back to you, you’re already watching him with big, guilty eyes. That only makes him feel worse – why should you feel guilty, when it is him that has failed you?

“Come, ma’yawne,” He murmurs, reaching out to hold you. “I will take you home.”

You open your mouth, no doubt to be stubborn and protest that you can walk yourself, or some other such nonsense, but he doesn’t wait to give you the chance. He just tucks his arms under your back and legs and hauls you up into his arms, holding you close to his chest as he stands.

With one last murmured thanks to Mo’at, he carries you right out of the hut and back into the evening light.

Tsu’tey is willing to admit that over the next few days, he is a little more… vigilant than usual.

“Tsu’tey, seriously,” You complain. “It’s a sprained wrist, it’s nothing!”

He doesn’t justify that with a response. Your injury is not nothing. It is a representation of his failure as a mate, and it hurts his pride to look at the bandages for too long. All he can do is commit himself to ensuring that something like this never happens again.

He brings you food and water in bed, he offers you gifts of books and the silly little glowing pads he manages to bully out of the tawtute in the human science encampment, and he makes sure the kelku is more cushioned and comfortable than ever before. His aim is to make sure that you have everything you need right there in your home, so that you won’t have to leave again – at least, not until he has finished safe-guarding the sloping rope bridge he is attempting to build for you.

Even now, your legs dangle from the edge of the kelku’s entrance as you watch him work on the wide branch below. You’re secure where you are, your hands holding tight to the edge of the tree branch that your legs hang from, but Tsu’tey keeps stealing looks up at you every couple of moments to ensure that you’re still there.

Around the twentieth time he glances up at you, you roll your eyes and meet his gaze with a challenging stare.

“Why don’t we go for a walk?” You ask, swinging your legs in the air. “It’s a nice day, and I haven’t been out in ages.”

Tsu’tey grunts, but doesn’t answer properly. His tail curls as he weaves another section of his makeshift rope bridge; it will be narrow and a little precarious, but he is certain it will be a better solution than the ladder you had fallen from.

From above, you click your tongue in dissatisfaction. “I know what you’re doing.”

He slants a glance up at you, lips pursed. Once again, he says nothing. Knowing you, you’re not finished speaking yet anyway.

Sure enough, his silence only seems to irritate you.

“I’m not staying up here forever, you know.” You say insistently, and Tsu’tey tenses when you lean forward to get a better look at him as he works on the branch below you. “I know you’re angry at me for getting hurt, but it’s only a sprained wrist and it’s not like-”

“I am not angry.” Tsu’tey interrupts, though he can’t manage to meet your eyes. His ears are pinned to the sides of his head; is that really what you think?

You let out a clearly frustrated noise. “You’ve hardly spoken to me for days. All you do is work on this stupid bridge-”

He finally looks up at that, lip curling in annoyance as he squints up to you. The rope bridge is admittedly rudimentary, but it’s for you. It’s true that he hasn’t been as demonstrative with his affections as usual for the past couple of days, but you’ve been injured. He couldn’t even think of touching you when you’re hurt – the remnants of bruising around your wrist makes him feel that sense of failure every time he catches sight of them.

When he fails to verbally respond yet again, you scowl at him. “Are you just not going to talk to me?”

At that, he sighs. “What do you want me to say?”

You set your jaw and glare for a second, before promptly shoving yourself to your feet. Tsu’tey tenses once more as you stand, so nerve-wrackingly close to the edge of the kelku, before you turn on your heel and march back inside.

Once you’re gone, Tsu’tey allows his shoulders to drop. Damn. He probably could have handled that better – communication has never been his strong suit. He’s never really felt the compulsion to explain himself or his thinking to anyone before, and now he finds himself at a loss for how to approach his feelings with you.

You think that he’s angry with you, which is absolutely untrue. Are you angry with him? Fuck.

Sighing, he finishes one last knot in the rope he was working on before dropping it. He needs to sort this out.

It only takes one jump for him to catch the edge of the kelku with his hands, and then he hauls himself up with ease. Part of the reason that he had been so startled when he realised you had been injured climbing the tree was because it was something that should have been so easy, something that just came naturally to the Omaticaya. It hadn’t occurred to him that it might have been possible for you to fall so easily.

When he steps inside the kelku, he spots your little form curled up on the woven rug atop the cushy leaves he had padded the wooden floor with. You’re holding one of the glowing pad things that the tawtute are always tapping away on, although you don’t appear to be reading anything off it – it seems more like you’re simply staring fixedly at it in an effort to avoid meeting his stare.

He moves slowly towards you, tail held low in as non-threatening a manner as he can manage. You don’t look up, though he can see the way your eyes slide subtly toward him. When he kneels down by your side, you’re forced to raise your gaze towards him.

“I do not mean to upset you, Säsrätx,” He murmurs, his voice low as he bends his head towards you. He does not want you to be angry with him – the thought curdles in his stomach.

You take a slow inhale through your nose, the breath fogging lightly against the clear material of your breathing mask before dissipating.

“I’m not made of glass, big guy,” You mumble, glancing back down at your hands. “You can’t treat me like a kid just because I got a minor injury.”

Tsu’tey makes a soft grumbling noise in the back of his throat, but doesn’t argue. You’ve never been annoyed at him like this, and he’s surprised by how much he doesn’t like it. He’s never been one to put too much stock in the opinion of others, but this is different. You are his mate, and he doesn’t want to make anything worse.

He adjusts his stance so that he’s crouched at your side, his much bigger body curling over yours as he looms over you. You’re just so small, it makes his palms itch. He hasn’t touched you properly in days, so afraid that he’ll make your injuries worse, but now he’s finding it difficult to keep his hands to himself.

You must be thinking the same thing, because your gaze drifts from his face down over his shoulders and chest, lingering around his woven necklaces and his battle waistband. Tsu’tey preens a little under your eyes, his chest puffing out a little.

“You should not have been hurt like this,” He murmurs, reaching out for your hand. “The kelku should have been safe for you. This was my fault.”

You just sigh, and shake your head. “Don’t be stupid. It was an accident. These things happen.”

Tsu’tey grunts unhappily. He’s too busy peering carefully at your wrist; your wrist and hand look so fragile in his much larger palm, and his lips press together tight as he strokes a careful thumb over the lingering discolouration on your skin. The bruises are almost gone, but he can still see the faint traces remaining.

“I have waited a long time to take a mate and have a family of my own,” He murmurs without looking up at your face. He tilts his head, a wry sort of smirk beginning to grow on his face. “I did not expect it would be with a tawtute, but I would not change things. I have lost too much over the years – I could not take it if something happened to you.”

Your expression wobbles, and then you toss your little piece of technology aside and push yourself up to your knees.

“Tsu’tey,” You whisper, eyes turning soft. “It was only a sprained wrist.”

His tail lashes, but he ducks his head down towards you so that you can cup his face in your little palms. Some of the restlessness in his chest begins to settle now that he has your hands holding his cheeks.

“I do not want you to think less of me as a mate.” He says quietly, reaching up to lay his palm flat over one of your hands on his cheek. “I should have ensured you had a safe way of entering our kelku-”

“Less of you?” You interrupt, choking out a laugh. “Are you kidding? I thought that you would think I was a total skxawng for falling like that. I had literally been promising you earlier that day that I would look after you, and then I ended up hurt like an idiot.”

Tsu’tey just makes a soft, rumbly noise in his chest in an effort to soothe you. To his relief it seems to work, and you relax into his chest.

“You can take care of me when you are better.” He says, his lips pulling up into a little smirk. It is something he looks forward to.

You hum, tilting your head back so you can look him in the eye with a coy grin. “I’m better now, big guy.”

Tsu’tey starts to snort, to pull back with an eyeroll, but to his surprise you continue grasping at his hand. When he blinks at you, he finds you staring up at him with a determined sort of look about you.

“I mean it,” You whisper, eyes all liquid and pleading. “My arm is fine, Mo’at said so. You haven’t touched me in days.”

Tsu’tey pauses at that. He looks at you properly; behind your breathing mask, your eyelashes are longer and darker than usual, and your lips are glossier. He recognises the traces of what you call makeup, and his ears twitch backwards in surprise. He knows that you wear this when you’re trying to catch his attention, and a little jolt of realisation rockets through him as he looks at you.

“Oh,” He breathes, reaching out to capture your jaw in one hand. “I see. My little mate feels neglected, is that it?”

Your cheeks grow hot in his hand, your eyes flickering away in an attempt to avoid eye contact. Despite your plea for him to touch you, now you appear flustered.

“Yes.” You whine, tilting your head into his hand. Despite your embarrassment, you manage to appear semi-confident when you finally raise your chin to look at him. “I want you to touch me.”

The edge of your breathing mask digs into his palm, and he starts to grin as he winds his long fingers into your hair. Oh, that soothes his wounded pride. Despite his mistake with the ladder, you still want him.

He ducks his head and presses a kiss to your neck, humming in satisfaction when you tilt your head back immediately to allow him access to your throat. Tsu’tey lets out a soft breath, and reaches for your waist so he can pull you into his lap. You go eagerly, clambering onto his thighs with a grin. You’re just so pliable, so trusting and needy. As soon as you’re settled in his lap, you start to grind yourself down against the growing stiffness beneath his tewng.

He lets out a quiet, surprised little huff. You really do want him to touch you, and your eagerness rushes straight to his head. He really has been neglecting you if you’re reacting like this just from a simple little neck kiss.

“I will make you feel good, ma’yawntutsyìp.” He promises – he is determined to make up for the last few days of distance between you, and he wants so desperately to taste you.

But when he begins to kiss his way down your chest, your belly, towards your thighs, your fingers weave into the roots of his hair and you tug lightly to stop him.

“As nice as your mouth would be,” You breathe, your mouth curving into a grin. “I said I’d make you feel good, didn’t I?”

His ears twitch, and he tilts his head as he eyes you carefully. You look earnest, but he’s not sure if he understands. You do not want him to use his mouth on you? Why not?

When he doesn’t make any immediate moves, you appear to take initiative yourself. You reach out to take his hand in your much smaller one, and pull it down beneath the hem of the little tewng that had been specially made for you. When his fingers make contact with the wet heat of your cunt, he goes stock still.

“You…” He starts, his brow furrowing as his fingers slide along the slickness between your legs.

He dips one finger inside, awed by how easily it slips in. It seems like you’re already all stretched out, far wetter than natural – he recognises the texture of the tawtute-made liquid you used on occasion to make the size of him easier to take. Lube, you call it. He slips another finger in, and you moan softly at the slide of it.

“You are ready.” Tsu’tey rumbles in surprise, his fingers twitching inside you.

“I’ve been ready for days,” You complain, dropping your head against his shoulder as you move your hips, attempting to get his fingers working deeper. “Waiting for you to get over your stupid worry and just fuck me.”

That just about sends him over the edge entirely. You had prepared yourself for him just to save time with stretching? The thought of you walking around the kelku for days, all sloppy and dripping down your legs as you wait for him to emerge from his brooding mood and please you sends his thoughts scattering. Fuck. How could he have been so preoccupied with his stupid rope bridge when you were sitting waiting for him to pay attention to you?

“I will fuck you,” He breathes, nuzzling at your jaw eagerly. The human term is harsh on his tongue, but he enjoys the coarseness of it.

“Don’t be gentle.” You blurt, still writhing against the bulge beneath his tewng and sending zings of pleasure shooting up his spine. “Fuck me like you mean it. I won’t break.”

Tsu’tey lets out a soft hiss. Well. What kind of a man would he be if he did not obey his little mate’s orders?

Though you have been making demands, it still seems to surprise you when he launches into movement. He grips your hips and flips you around – it’s a quick movement, and it takes you a moment to regain your bearings when you find yourself on your hands and knees on the soft leaves he’s padded the kelku’s bouncy floor with.

“Fuck, yes.” You breathe, guessing where he’s going with this immediately. You arch your back, pushing your ass back eagerly into his hands as he unties your tewng and tosses it aside.

Tsu’tey bears his teeth in a grin, lowering his face to lay a hot, biting kiss between your shoulderblades.

“Needy girl,” He rumbles, groping at your ass as his thumbs roll around your puffy, slick pussy and pull you apart so that he can admire the sticky strands of arousal that drip from you. “You are so swollen here. My poor, neglected little mate. I will make this up to you.”

When brushes his fingers through the puffy lips of your cunt and then pushes inside, you can't quite stifle the whine that escapes you. It drives him crazy. You’re still squirming even on your hands and knees beneath him, and Tsu’tey hunches over you so he can plaster his big chest over your back.

His erection presses thick and heavy against your ass. He grinds into you at the same time as he reaches around and rubs quick, tight circles into your clit. You practically choke, alternating between pushing back into his erection which is laid flushed and hot between your thighs, and pushing forward into his hand, which is still toying with your pussy.

“Come on then, big guy,” You say, your voice wavering slightly as he rubs at your clit. “Stop telling me how good you can fuck me and actually do it.”

That makes Tsu’tey snicker into the hot skin of your neck. Oh, how he can’t wait to fulfill the orders of his bossy little mate.

Grinning, he reaches out and places a hand on the back of your neck before exerting gentle pressure to push you down onto the padded floor. You go willingly, until you’re face down and ass up in a position that has Tsu’tey’s mouth watering. He can smell your arousal, so sweet and dizzying as you lay exposed and waiting for him.

You crane your neck around so that you can see him as he eyes your arched back and exposed behind eagerly. You look flustered, but your eyes are still challenging as you watch him and wait for his next move.

“So impatient, ma’tawtute,” He rumbles, amused.

He smooths a hand over your waist and down over your hip and ass. A quick, open-palmed smack is delivered to the soft, squishy flesh of your ass, and you rock forward with a choked gasp. He was careful to control the pressure he used, but even still the hint of force makes your soft cunt flutter around nothing.

“Come on, big guy,” You gasp, laying your cheek flat against the padded floor as you push your ass back towards him eagerly. “Come on, come on-”

With you all spread out and wet and begging beneath him, his self-control crumbles. He tears off his tewng and grabs at his cock, stroking it with a growled rumble before rubbing the sensitive tip against the slick folds of your cunt.

You’re gasping already, before he even begins to press inside, and he can’t help but feel impossibly endeared by your stubborn nature. Look at you – so determined and eager to take him.

When he does begin to push inside, you drop your head down to the padded floor and moan, clearly just short of overwhelmed. You’re so tight, Tsu’tey swears he nearly blacks out. He pushes in slowly, his front plastered to your little back as one of his arms reaches under your stomach to support you. The two of you are breathing heavily; you from the struggle of accepting his size inside you, and him from the vice-like grip of your cunt.

“Breathe and relax, my small mate,” He grunts, squeezing his eyes tight as he nuzzles into your shoulder. “You are taking me so well.”

You do as he says unthinkingly, gasping a breath and forcing yourself to relax as he presses inside of you inch by excruciating inch. You can't seem to decide if you want him to hurry up and get it over with or go slow and gentle, and you keep alternating between twitching back on his cock and flinching away from it. Tsu’tey, however, is careful to keep a very medium pace; he pushes evenly and steadily until he's seated inside of you, hunched over your back, and then pauses to let you adjust.

As you tremble, face pressed into the floor as your pussy flutters frantically around his cock, Tsu’tey presses soft, insistent kisses all around your back and shoulders. It feels as though you’re trying to squeeze his cock right off, and he grunts a moan into the soft flesh of your bare back as you finally begin to ease up around him.

Then, finally, he begins to move.

"Fuck!" You gasp, squirming a little as he starts up at a steady pace.

When his hands come down to grip your hips and keep you in place, you grab at the leaf-padded floor, fingers scrabbling for purchase as the thrusting of his hips rocks your whole body forward.

He's barely started fucking you at all, but Tsu’tey’s thoughts are already scattered and his body feels like it's close to overheating already. There’s something about seeing you so hungry for him that sends him wild – he’s never taken you from behind before, but the view of your ass stuck up in the air as your cunt sucks him so greedily makes his head spin.

"You feel so good," Tsu’tey murmurs into the side of your throat before biting at it, "So tight around me. Oh, fuck, that's it."

Each thrust pushes you further up the floor, until you’re forced to stop grabbing at the leaf-padding and instead to reach behind you and grab at one of his hands. He takes your hand eagerly, wrapping your odd little five-fingered hand in his own four-fingered one and pinning it to the floor as his other hand uses your hip to pull you back into him. You moan quite happily as you bury your face into the leaf-padding as he fucks you into the floor.

It doesn’t take long before you’re pushing your hips back to meet his thrusts as best you can, and he bares his teeth at the sight beneath him. You’re just adorable – you glance over your shoulder and smile dazedly as you tighten up around him. He makes a soft sound of pleasure and wraps his arm firmly around your stomach to keep you close to him.

“Come on, ma’yawne,” He rumbles, nipping lightly at the juncture of your bare shoulder as you shudder beneath him. “Talk to me.”

You manage an embarrassingly breathless little moan in response, and Tsu’tey snorts a wild sort of laugh. It feels a little as though he's coming apart at the seams. Tsu’tey is big, a fact which is apparently emphasised even further in this position, and it's overwhelming but it's so good — you feel so delightfully perfect, all wrapped around him like a vice as he fills you up.

He must be hitting a spot inside you that makes your legs go weak, because your jaw is slack and you keep making senseless little gasping sounds as you go limp as he fucks into you. It’s so sweet that he thinks momentarily about relenting, but you had asked for this. You did not want him to be gentle, not tonight.

"I didn't hear you." He says, a warning in his voice. His fingers weave into the roots of your hair and fist at the base of your skull, before he pulls your head back so that your face is no longer buried in the floor. “I want to hear you talk to me, my girl.”

"Oh, fucking goddamn shit-" You manage to choke out. His hand pulling your hair has somehow caused you to go semi-boneless as he fucks into you.

He picks up his pace, his hips rolling into yours so that your breath is catching in your chest and your eyes are rolling wildly. When his hand slips under you to start playing with your clit, you make a soft, broken-sounding moan and throw your head back eagerly.

Tsu’tey is so close to coming that his head is actually swimming, his thoughts slow as molasses as every nerve and synapse tunes into you beneath him so that the only thing he can actually focus on is the feel of you gasping and writhing below. He has always taken mating with you seriously, but right now it feels as though his only purpose is touching and stroking and fucking you so good that you forget everything other than him.

“Oh god,” You wheeze, your little hand squeezing tight around his fingers as his other hand uses his grip on your hips to pull you back into his thrusts. “Oh god, oh god, oh god-”

He recognises that frantic edge to your voice, and he bares his teeth in pleasure as he realises just how close you are to coming. His balls slap against your clit with every thrust, and he can feel the way they begin to tighten and draw up as his thrusts get faster. He’s close himself, his teeth practically buzzing with his oncoming orgasm, but he clenches his jaw as he attempts to hold it off. He wants so desperately to come inside you, but only after he’s experienced you creaming and squealing around his cock.

He adjusts his angle just slightly, but it's enough to have you dropping bonelessly back to the floor as you gasp.

"Fuck, there, don't stop!"

He snickers, though it trails off into a winded sort of snarl. His bossy, demanding little demon of a mate. Your orders only make his cock harder, and he lets out a whole body rumble as he feels his cock start to pulse inside your soft, wet, tight insides. He needs you to come now, before he completely loses his mind.

“Come, ma’yawntutsyìp, my precious one,” He grunts, leaving nipping kisses along the length of your spine. “I want to feel your release around me.”

The combination of his cock rubbing and grinding against the soft spongey part inside of you and the messy stimulation of your clit has your legs trembling and pussy quivering wildly. It feels like you’re being strung tighter and tighter under him as your orgasm draws closer and your breath begins coming in rapid pants.

You just manage to get out the words "Oh, yes-!" before the pleasure growing in your belly seems to crest and your back bows as you start to cum. All of the pressure that's been building up in your body is set free with the sweetest release, made all the sweeter by the fact that Tsu’tey keeps rocking into you the whole way through, the heavy head of his cock grinding hard against your G-spot the whole time.

Your eyes roll back and your mouth drops open as your orgasm rocks through you, and Tsu’tey watches with wide eyes and avid interest as your entire little body shudders and shakes beneath him.

“Yes,” He breathes, his whole face contorting in toe-curling pleasure as your cunt clenches and ripples around him. “Yes, my love, so good.”

Your orgasm seems to last forever, leaving your chest heaving and back glittering with sweat, but eventually you reach back and slap at his thigh.

“Turn me around,” You wheeze, sounding winded. “Keep going, I want you to come in me-”

Fuck, how he loves it when you make demands. He doesn’t even wait for you to finish speaking before he pulls out, gripping your hips and flipping you around so that you’re on your back. He pushes back in immediately, snarling out a desperate groan as his cock splits you open all over again, you wrapping him up all snug and tight inside.

One of his hands snakes under your back and curls around your waist to pull you up against him as he pounds into you. With the other arm, he's balanced himself on his forearm beside your head for leverage as he drives into you hard and fast. He is still conscious of your limits, of your soft and fragile little human body, but his head is reeling from the sheer sensation and from the squealing little moans that are escaping your mouth. He’s still careful not to hurt you, but he’s also rolling his hips into your more frantically than he’s ever done before.

When you hike your little legs up over Tsu’tey’s narrow hips and squeeze tight around him, he lets out a rather wrecked, desperate sounding whimper. He drops his head to your chest, shoving the woven chest covering out of the way so that he can suck one of your tits into his mouth, sloppily rolling your nipple around on his tongue and clutching at your ass with one hand when you arch into him.

“Oh, fuck,” You gasp, arching your back so that your breasts are pushed further into his face. Your voice is hoarse — you sound absolutely wrecked. “Oh god, yes, please-”

He's hovering right on the precipice of orgasm — it's obvious by his desperate open-mouthed panting, the way he hunches over as his thrusting starts to turn clumsy, and the way he's messily sucking at your tits.

What really pushes him over the edge, to his honest surprise, is when you moan out, “Fuck, I.. Tsu’tey, I really love you-”

Tsu’tey lets out a choked, desperate groan before dropping his forehead to your breastbone as he comes inside of you. It’s like a wave of white rushes through his mind, wiping everything clean inside his head as he strains desperately against you. The motion of his hips stutters and falters as his brow pinches, and he lets out a long, low moan as he grasps at you, his eyes squeezing shut tight as he feels his cum flood your cunt and overflow, dribbling down your ass.

"Oh." He groans, shivering as his elbows give out and he drops down on top of you so that you’re plastered together from head to toe. He tucks his face into your neck and kisses under your ear, enjoying the heat from your overworked, sweaty bodies while also being hyper-conscious of crushing you.

You’re both covered in a sheen of sweat, which makes your bodies slide slickly together whenever either of you move. Tsu’tey’s hand drifts down over your ass, and he squeezes lazily at the soft, squishy flesh there.

“Are you well, my mate?” He rumbles, still a little dazed as he lifts his head to squint down at you. “Did I- are you hurt?”

You’re staring at the ceiling, mouth softly ajar as you take deep, heaving breaths. His question makes you laugh, though it’s a quiet, breathless little sound.

“No,” You whisper, your mouth curving in a dopy sort of smile. “Only sore in the best way. Fuck, that was good.”

The positive affirmation is exactly what he needed to hear, and he feels his tail begin to sway in slow satisfaction. You had been right, after all – you could take it, and you were not necessarily as delicate as he had feared after your injury. The lazy, contented smile on your face only reassures him further that you are happy and unscathed.

He pulls out carefully, his ears twitching as he leaves your perfect, wet warmth. You hiss at the sensation too, and he rumbles a quiet apology before running the pads of his fingers over your swollen, puffy pussy; his come is dripping slowly out of you, and he rubs absently at the wet white trails to massage it into your skin.

“Bring me to the bed,” You say, though it lacks the demanding edge of the previous requests you had made. You sound sleepy, as though he had entirely worn you out.

His mouth twitches, and he reaches down to scoop you into his arms. You go easily, your head rolling around on your neck as you nuzzle into his chest. To his surprise, his own knees feel a little jelly-like when he moves to stand and put weight on them. Damn, he doesn’t think an orgasm has ever left him reeling like this afterwards.

When he lays you out on the tawtute-style bed he had made for you out of plant fibres and leaves, he crawls up next to you and stretches out, his tail undulating in lazy satisfaction. You roll over and shove your face up against his still glistening chest, burrowing close to him.

“Told you I could take it.” You say. You sound exhausted, but so damn pleased with yourself.

Tsu’tey just laughs, a tired sort of chuckle as he nuzzles his nose into your sweet-smelling hair.

“You take it so well, ma’yawntutsyìp,” He assures you fondly, pressing a little kiss to the top of your small, blunt little ear.

When he takes your hand and pulls it up to his face, he gives a small smile and presses his mouth to the near-invisible remnants of bruising around your wrist. He bares his sharp teeth against your fragile skin as he murmurs, “And I love you too.”

#tsu'tey x reader #tsu'tey smut #tsu'tey #avatar wotw #avatar x reader #na'vi x human #na'vi x reader #terato #fics #tsu'tey fic #alien x human #avatar 2 #avatar 2009

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lex-the-flex · 8 months

Text

Darker Than Wine

Astarion x Mortal! reader

Summary: In the ruined castle, the King silently rules over all that is dark and unnatural. Shrouded in the endless mysteries of his cruel abilities, he hungers for something stronger than wine.

Word Count: 1.3k

Warning(s): Moments of fluff, Astarion being a true lover/King, (spoiling the reader), established relationship, Astarion and the reader opening up, brief alcohol consumption, 18+ – PURE SMUT, basic porn with little plot lol, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it kids), loss of virginity, oral (f! receiving), HEAVY vampirism, blood, descriptions of injuries, and brief moments of pain.

A/N: From what I've seen from BG3, I'm absolutely IN LOVE with Astarion and Neil's incredible voice acting! Feedback is appreciated and enjoy!

A defining silence takes over the once great castle, inviting only superstitions and ghost stories to walk through the grand halls. Memories of the past overtook the ruins of Cazador's Palace and were replaced with newer, happier ones. But only behind closed doors.

On the outside however, the various village occupants did not dare to enter through the large doors, in fear of the cruel King who sat on his throne, ruling over nothing but darkness.

Hiding in the shadows, The Pale Elf accomplished all, and he achieved this with a mortal by his side. Except there was one problem: he thirsted for something more greater than wine.

The library's cozy atmosphere brought an inviting sense of serenity by the warmth of the infinite fireplace. Sitting on a lounge chair, you tried to focus on a new novel from the seemingly endless bookshelves containing sheltered and well-preserved books from the two hundred years of your husband and his master’s adventures long before you were born.

Taking another sip from your wine glass, the tart dark liquid helps you focus, but only for a millisecond. Scrunching your eyebrows together, you tried to get back into the book, but another presence from the far corner of the room distracts you once more.

“You’re staring again, Astarion.” You announced, closing your book and leaving your place bookmarked with your finger.

Turning to face him, his silver orbs glow in the darkness, before returning to his normal red.

“It just comes naturally, dear. Especially in your soothing presence.” Astarion replies, walking to the chair.

Cupping your face from behind, Astarion leans down and meets your lips for a small kiss.

“Mm, delectable. You know I’ll never get used to this.” He says with a smile.

“Well, we are married after all. So you might have too.” You reply, setting your book down.

"And yet I still don't know what comes next. But as long as you're here, we can truly accomplish anything, Y/N." Astarion says, walking around to face you.

Closing his arms around you, he lowers his chin to your shoulder, never getting tired of your embrace. Silently shaking in his touch, your breath hitches between your pink lips. Taking your arms in his hands, Astarion faces you with a wave of concern emerging in every corner of his face.

"You're shaking. Is everything alright, darling?" He asks, gently stroking your cheek.

"Everything's fine. I promise, it's just..." You start, but mumble with your answer.

"But what? It was Araj again, wasn't it? She said something to you." Astarion assumes, and a wave of rage begins to boil in his blood.

"No, it wasn't Araj, I swear. I'd like to--" You try again, but can't.

"You'd what?" Astarion continues, leaning his forehead to yours, hoping to calm your nerves.

"I'd like to do what we talked about. Finally making our marriage real ...and holding up my end of our deal." You explain, swallowing your embarrassment.

Taking in your confession, Astarion overcomes his tiny state of shock.

"I don't want to hurt you, but I'd love to, darling." He whispers, hesitant to give you an answer.

“Are you sure?” You ask, sliding your hands to his shoulders.

“I’ve never wanted anything more for the last two years.” He replies, pressing his lips to yours.

*****

Guiding you back to the dark space of your shared private chambers, Astarion swung his cape from his shoulders, tossing it to a nearby wardrobe chest. Cupping your jawline with both hands, he passionately kissed you in the dimly lit room, carefully backing you towards the large bed.

Carefully removing your dress, Astarion’s fingers graze around the curves of your hips before reaching your waistline, desperately ready to have you. Throwing the piece of fabric back into the room, you playfully gasped at the action, to which he replied with his signature smirk.

“We can always buy you another one, dear.” Astarion said, just as he began removing his boots.

Taking off the remainder of his ebony robes, Astarion lifts you in his touch, gently laying you down. Tracing his lips over your shoulders, you gasped at his softness.

“Astarion?” You asked, lifting your head to face him.

“Yes, my love?” He replied, giving you his full attention.

“…Go slow, please.” You hesitated, shyly squeezing his shoulder.

A brief pause filled the air whilst he instantly knew what you meant.

“Oh, then this’ll be delicious.” He teased, smirking at your request.

Descending your body, Astarion sank to his knees before continuing up your nude form with sweet, yet feverish kisses. Gliding his way down to your inner thighs, his lips ran along the sensitive skin, before parting your folds with his tongue, earning himself your first real moan.

“That’s it, darling. Don’t hide your lust from me.” Astarion instructed as he held your hips down.

Gathering your bundle of nerves in his mouth, his tongue pushes past your entrance. Swirling around your ecstasy, and he took his time eating you out before you eventually came all over his tongue. Collecting yourself, the stars in your eyes faded and you were greeted by the sight of Astarion hovering above you.

“You alright?” He asked, observing your current state.

“More than alright.” You answered with a quick giggle.

“Excellent.” He smiled, then guided your legs around his hips.

Aligning himself with your dripping folds, Astarion teased you with his erect tip, prepping you to take all of him. Pushing his manhood past your entrance, you both moaned together at this feeling. Slowly moving his hips against your own, Astarion heeded your wishes, and took in your lust that was clogging his lungs.

Grazing his teeth over the flesh of collarbones, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, prompting him to continue. Astarion’s sharp fangs teased your ticklish skin, forcing a layer of goosebumps to rise up. Feeling the rhythm of your pulse in his pointed ears, he enjoyed the pounding pace of your heartbeat one last time before thrusting deeper into you.

Following in time with his thrusts, your hands slid down to his ass, and your shared moans became music to his ears. Feeling a heat rising in the pit of your stomach, you tensed at this sensation, but your husband was right there to guide you.

Your walls tightened around Astarion’s cock which made him see stars beneath his red eyes. A growl emerged from his chest and he quickened his pace, riding out your orgasm with love and adoration. Finishing after you, you both held your sweaty and exhausted bodies closer just as rays of sunlight pierced through the gaps in the curtains.

Collecting you in his arms, Astarion sat you on his lap, giving you reassuring kisses along the way. Running your fingers through his hair, you traced your fingers along Astarion’s eyebrows and jawline, humming at his eternal beauty,

“If you were to do this, Y/N, there’s no going back. You’d be leaving your mortal life behind. Are you sure you want this?” He asks with a bit of sadness in his eyes.

“I’m sure. This is what I want, and I want it with you.” You replied, running your fingers through his hair.

Nodding at your decision, Astarion lowered his lips to your chest, pressing kisses to your bare breasts. Rolling his tongue around your nipples, he tugged on your breasts with his teeth before letting go with a satisfying pop. Trailing up to your collarbones, the echo of your pulse rang in his Elven ears, causing them to tingle.

The sharpness of his fangs gilded against your neck, tickling your throat as Astarion gathered you in his arms and bit down on your flesh. Sinking his teeth into your warm skin, he ravished in the taste of blood. The sweetness drove him mad and he took what he desired. The sounds of your voice brought him back, Astarion continued and carefully bit his own wrist before encasing your lips around the small wound.

Drinking in his blood, Astarion gently laid you back down, and watched you transform into your new vampire body, giving you the most beautiful pair of crimson eyes he’d ever seen.

tagging ~

@dreamliners

@violetthecreator

@the-resident-vampire

@bitten-by-astarion

@loveandfictionforall

@tripleyeeet

@macabre-mangled

@demigoddessqueens

@sweatandwoe

#baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate astarion #astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion x y/n #astarion fic #astarion fanfic #the pale elf

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milswrites · 2 months

Text

Hobbies Part 10.

~ Azriel X Reader

Summary: In an attempt to keep Azriel away from Elain, Rhys sends him on a sabbatical to the Day Court. With a lot more free time on his hands Azriel needs to find something to keep him occupied. Unfortunately he meets Y/N who has the annoying habit of not staying away. Can she teach him that there’s more to life than he thought?

Grumpy!Azriel X Sunshine!Reader

Series masterlist

Warnings: None? Maybe a little bit of suggestiveness 😏😏

Azriel was terrified. His palms sweating uncontrollably, causing him to constantly brush them against his cobalt tunic in the hope of hiding his nerves. This was it. His second chance, his redo of the already perfect first date to prove to his mate just how much she meant to him. The date he hoped would consolidate the bond between them, either snapping into place for the unaware woman naturally or if that failed to occur, Azriel would have to pluck up the courage to tell her himself.

That was if he didn’t blurt the words into her face the very moment he sees her next. Azriel was already having to forcefully swallow down the words which were crawling up his throat, an unwanted tickle that he couldn’t get rid of no matter how many times he cleared his throat.

He was practicing to himself, whispering under his breath as he tried to formulate exactly how he’d like to tell her if it comes to it. Not wanting to mess it up if the moment arrives, afraid of being rendered speechless when it does. Azriel also prayed to the cauldron that this practice, the utters of love and devotion on his lips, would ensure that he didn’t just scream ‘mate’ at her the moment she opened her door. The last thing he wanted after finally coming so close to the happiness he had always dreamed of, was to scare her away and further embarrass himself in the process.

So here he was mumbling away to himself as he sat outside the small cottage Y/N had been staying in whilst working in the Day Court village. His desire to be alone with her without the curious gaze of the villagers, had almost driven Azriel to shoot up into the sky to escape them. Y/N wrapped securely in his arms, as he brought them to a location where it could be just the two of them. Y/N, however, had felt his change in demeanour - no doubt he had passed his emotions through the bond she didn’t even know was there - and begged the male for just a little bit of time to freshen up and send Helion a message explaining where she was going.

In hindsight, Azriel was grateful for her slight delay. Having realised that in his frantic efforts to find Y/N, he hadn’t even had time to think about what he was going to do and where he would take her. He had been driven by pure instinct. Even now his senses were only just starting to trickle back as Azriel rushed to come up with a plan.

A quick message to Rhysand, the passing of a mental image of what he needed and a promise that he would explain why later, and the date was planned. So now Azriel didn’t just have to worry about the growing anxiety in anticipation of the night ahead, but also the terrifying prospect of having to go home and explain everything that had unfolded over the past few weeks to his clueless family. Though the thought of telling his brothers that he too had finally found his other half did send a wave of joy through Azriel.

Finally, the sharp click of a handle turning rang out, drawing Azriel from his worried state. His eyes flickered towards the source of the sound and instantly a wave of calm washed over his body, mind clearing of all anxiety as he laid his golden eyes upon the heavenly woman before him in awe. And the world stopped.

~~~~~

Azriel could have been told it was the Mother herself before him and he would have believed it. The soft glow Y/N radiated due to the burning ember of the sun setting gave her the appearance of a goddess. A soft halo of light surrounding her as if she had been painted by some higher power.

And her dress. A flowing delight of warm yellows and gold, sparkling as if the swirling golden thread was made of pure sunlight, and that was exactly what she was. The bright sun in Azriel’s dull world. The ethereal light that shone from her pure soul was enough to keep the darkness at bay, to command Azriel’s shadows to bow down before the celestial woman before him.

Azriel who had spent the past few months wondering why the cauldron didn’t match him with Elain now saw the truth standing before his very eyes, as he wondered how it was possible that he didn’t notice the bond sooner. Y/N had been created for him just as he had been for her. A perfectly matched antithesis. Light and dark. Day and night. And Azriel would spend the rest of his life grateful to the cauldron for making this force of a woman his mate.

“Azriel?” A concerned Y/N who had been trying to get the males attention broke his silent worship of her.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything more beautiful in the whole of Prythian”

And he meant it, not even all the stars in the night sky would ever compare to the beauty that is Y/N.

She blushed, a sweet pink blush that perfectly complimented the tone of her shimmering dress. “And I,” she smiled shyly up at the male, eyes hidden underneath her fluttering lashes, “I have never seen a man so handsome, that he looked as if he had been carved by the cauldron itself.”

He gently took her hand which was resting loosely by her side, lifting it to his lips and placing a gentle kiss to her skin, a matching blush dusted across his own cheeks.

“So what exciting plans do you have for me this time?” Y/N smiled brightly as she spoke, a smile which made Azriel’s knees tremble weakly and his heart skip a beat as it pulsed ferociously in his chest. He would be lying if he said her smile didn’t make him feel a certain way.

“ We,” Azriel started, hovering his warm lips close to Y/N’s until he could feel the breath leaving her mouth, lips grazing against each others as he continued to speak, “are going to another court. I can’t deny you of your need to see the world any longer.” He closed the space between them, connecting their lips firmly as Y/N squealed in excitement at the prospect of visiting another court. Her joyous smile so wide that Azriel reluctantly had to pull away from the kiss. But he was glad he did, for the image of Y/N’s earth-shattering smile as she looked up at him, dressed in gold, was enough to top the memory he had preserved of her standing in the garden all those weeks ago.

“Hold on tight” he warned, pulling her in by her waist until she was tight against his chest in a soothing embrace, Azriel’s lips brushing softly against her neck as his shadows consumed them.

~~~~~

Y/N gasped as the cool flakes of falling snow kissed her cheeks as they materialised in the Winter Court. An amazed wonder on her face as she took in her surroundings. The thick blanket of velvet snow which covered the ground. The glistening branches of the fur trees, bending gently with the weight of the icy powder. And the most beautiful view of all, the crystalline patterns which weaved over the frozen lake, icy branches appearing as though they were delicately painted by hand.

“It’s…magnificent” she stared, silvery tears lining her shining eyes. “Yeah, it is” Azriel replied, his loving eyes failing to leave her face, not bothering to look at what she was speaking of. A subtle shiver, from a not very appropriately dressed Y/N, caused Azriel to tear his eyes from her frame to search for the bag of goods he had asked Rhysand to drop off, praying the male had done what was asked of him.

Locating the bag, he willed himself to leave Y/N’s shaking side to go and pull out the cloak he had requested inside. His hands settling over the thick material as he removed it from the bag, a cloak of Night Court black. Azriel swept the item over Y/N’s shoulders, hands moving to fasten the golden clasp at the neck before uncontrollably drifting up to her watching face, his thumb running slowly over her lip. Admiring how even adorned in the darkest of shades, Y/N still shone brighter than any star in the sky. Nothing could dim her light.

“There’s more!” Azriel cleared his throat quickly, removing his hand as if the touch of her skin had electrocuted him. Fearing what would overcome him if he held onto her for a little bit longer. His body burning warmly even in the cold air, the presence of her body close to his being all the fuel he needed. The sight of her dressed in the colour of his court enough to create a tingling sensation which travelled further south than he’d like to admit.

Azriel distracted himself from this sensation by routing through the bag once more, pulling out two sets of boots, silver blades attached to the bottom of their soles. “I thought we’d try something new” his words came out more anxious than he had intended, now worried that this would be something Y/N had no interest in having never even seen ice before.

“It’s a perfect idea Azriel” she reassured him, a comforting hand resting on his shoulder. And so Azriel helped her slip from her dainty shoes into the warming boots his brother had managed to find him. Tying the laces and letting his hand selfishly drift over her legs for longer than needed.

He then put his own shoes on, stumbling around as he pushed himself up off the floor in the unfamiliar footwear, Y/N’s arms flying out to stabilise him. “Careful” she giggled as he slipped around, “wouldn’t want you to damage that pretty face of yours.”

“You think I’m pretty?”

~~~~~

To anyone else it would have been a hilarious sight, the spymaster of the Night Court and a girl from Day who had never seen snow, gripping onto each other tightly as they made tiny steps together in their bladed-boots, attempting to reach the edge of the frosty lake. To Azriel, however, this was a moment he would cherish forever.

He was uncomfortable, sure, but he had found his other half and dared to try a new thing by choice and to him, that made him unstoppable. And so despite the blisters already forming as the boots rubbed against his feet, Azriel allowed himself to plaster the widest smile he had ever worn across his face as he pushed off the snow covered ground, skating onto the frozen surface. A giggling Y/N following suit, their hands locked together as they stumbled like newborn deer onto the ice.

They weren’t graceful by any means, there were numerous times where one of them was picking the other off the floor after they had fallen, hearty laughs upon their lips. But they didn’t need to be graceful or fluid, the two moved in a dance that was their own, just like that day in the corridor of his building.

The two performed shaky twirls and uneven spins. If anyone were watching from the rivers edge they would see two ghosts dancing in the mist of the evening, a dark mass shadows copying their movements and curling around the pair. Life and death meeting in the solitude of the Winter Courts wilderness, hidden away from the rest of the world and locked in a never ending dance.

Until the moment was broken by the pick of Azriel’s blade getting caught on an uneven patch of ice. The male went flying, roughly crashing into Y/N and knocking them both breathlessly onto the floor. Just as they had been doing all night when one had fallen, Azriel broke out into a roar of laughter, chest heaving with glee as he howled from where he was leaning over Y/N, arms on either side of her head as they shook.

But Y/N just stared at Azriel in shock. Wide eyes never faltering from his grinning face. At her failure to reciprocate how funny Azriel found this situation he panicked, “What’s wrong!” He cried out into the silence, hands gripping onto her face as his eyes searched her body for any injuries, “Are you hurt?!”

“Mate” Y/N choked out as if winded, disbelief flashing across her face, “You’re my mate!”

If possible an even more surprised expression crossed her face as Azriel beamed a wide smile instead of matching the shock she held at the revelation. He wrapped his arms around her in a bear hug, body collapsing on top of hers as he no longer held his weight up, the two tangled together in a loving embrace.

“You’re my mate” he confirmed, planting kisses in every location his lips could reach. “Mine” he couldn’t do anything to stop the world he growled against her skin as he sucked lightly on her neck.

Needing answers, Y/N mustered the strength the push the male away, breathlessly asking, “how long?”

“I didn’t know” Azriel panted, adrenaline spiking in his body at the events which were finally unfolding, “not until I’d gone back home and I put on the tunic. And it just made sense. I should have known all along, you’re my missing half. You’re my mate Y/N and I love you and I shall spend forever loving you as the cauldron intended. Now I have you, I never want to live without you again.”

He pulled her back towards him, continuing his attack of kisses, Y/N seemed satisfied with his answer as she allowed him to continue roughly dragging his lips across the exposed skin of her neck contentedly, humming as he did so at the taste of her.

“My mate” she giggled, testing the sound of it on her lips, Azriel moving his head to kiss the words as they exited her lips, “my beautiful mate. I have felt drawn to you from the minute I laid my eyes on you. I was never supposed to get to know you as well as I did, but I just couldn’t stay away no matter how much I tried. Everything I did, everywhere I went, it all led back to you. Because it’s you Azriel. It’s always been you. My heart calls to you because you’re my home…my mate.”

Azriel would never get tired of hearing her say the words. The words that joined them together through a bond greater than anyone could understand. The bond that meant Azriel belonged to her. The day had had finally come for Azriel to start living his life and the best part about it was that he wouldn’t be doing it alone.

Part 11

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Notes: I wrote this while sick af so if I come back tomorrow and it’s terrible I’m going to hate myself 😭

I know I said this would be the last chapter before the epilogue but I have one more planned…

Taglist:

@thelov3lybookworm @minnieoo @going-through-shit @iluvyewman-blog @laughterafter @amysangel @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @aaronwarnerobsessedmylove @justvibbinghere @honeybeeboobaa @willowpains @tele86 @mysticalfuncollectorus @mybestfriendmademe @starryhiraeth @gorlillaglue25 @moonlwghts @darling006 @anuttellaa @serendipityx150 @xxxalicerogersxx @that-one-little-soybean @scatteredstardustt @naturakaashi @nyx-the-alien @lostinpages13 @namelesssav @dreamlandreader @fightmedraco @maxmouse001

#acotar #fanfic #acotar imagine #sarah j maas #azriel x reader #a court of thorns and roses #azriel imagine #azriel oneshot #azriel #azriel acotar

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sunfyresrider · 8 months

Text

♡My Dear, Don’t Ever Disappear | Neteyam S.

❦Summary: You wake up with a pounding headache and no clue where you are. It’s only after your cries for help your best friend appears. Except… it seems like he’s the reason for all of this.

❦Tags: Stalker!Neteyam - this man is actually crazy, muder🫢, porn w plot, dubcon/noncon, smutty af, kidnapping, pet names, biting, bondage, knifeplay, he loves you in a insane way. Word Count: 3k +

❦Author’s Note: NO PROOFREADING WE RAWDOG THIS! The voices got to me and I made this. Ooc Neteyam for mf sure but it’s just- ugh. My brain couldn’t stop thinking abt it<3

You woke up groggy, the first time you noticed was a severe ache in the back of your skull. What the hell happened? You opened your eyes to find you were not at home, nor in a hospital, you were in a cold concrete room. It had to be the old lab, a basement you hadn’t found yet. Well, that is unspeakably unsettling, you thought to yourself as your heart picked up its pace.

You winced as you tried to sit up, Your whole body was a dull throb, your arms stiff from their position. It took mere moments before you felt the cool touch of metal against your wrists, you tried to move away, but the sounds of chains clinking together gave away that they were keeping you on the floor. Panic slowly begun settling in the pits of your stomach, a looming sense of dread washing over you.

You were just going to work, walking out of base camp, and then nothing. Nothing at all. Trying to remember made your head pound, you didn't know what day it was, the fucking time, or if you were even in the same village. “Hello?”

Your voice echoed against the walls, the only response being the drip drop of water leaking through the walls, you were underground. That much you could tell. As your eyes adjusted to the dim light you noticed another presence, a figure standing at the door with their arms crossed.

“Boo.”

Your body jolted upwards, the chains pulling you back. You felt your blood go cold. They were tall, so tall you could hardly see all of them. You felt like the breath had been knocked out of your lungs, your mouth was dry and you could only stutter as he stepped forward. “No, no, no, no,” you mumbled to yourself, as he crouched down in front of you.

“Don’t fucking touch me! Somebody help! Help,” you screamed at the top of your lungs, the man didn't seem perturbed at all by your cries. “My Ewya, you’re loud,” he reached up, pulling the sloppily fashioned skull mask from his face. “Neteyam?!” You were baffled. Why was Neteyam here? This wasn’t some sick joke was it?

“Thank god you’re awake,” he sighed, his hand moving to push your hair out of your face. His fingers brushed against the gash on your forehead, causing you to wince. “I thought I hit your pretty little head too hard and put you in a coma.” His fingers trailed down the side of your face, his thumb swiping against your bottom lip, and you couldn't help but recoil. There was something different about him, he wasn't the same Neteyam that was so sweet to you.

“Neteyam what the fuck are you-” you were cut off by his voice, a crazed smile spreading across his face. “Surprise!” He yelled, throwing his hands up, he seemed ecstatic, and you had never felt more terrified. “I really wanted to do this differently, honestly, but it was so hard to get you alone.”

You could only stare, not wanting to say a word, the silence making your throat tighten. Neteyam looked down, his fingers tapping on his knees. You had never seen him like this before, his normal cheery and kind nature completely gone.“I-if Kyle finds out-”

Neteyam’s change in expression cut you off quickly, his eyes changing into something dark, his brow furrowing as his lip curled into a snarl. You swallowed thickly, not sure how to handle him, or the situation. “And what the fuck will a human named Kyle do to me? For Ewya’s sake I do not understand your obsession with this creature. He is weak, frail, short, pale skinned and so stupid.”

For just a moment you had a mere second to think and you were insulted on Kyle’s behalf. Yes, he wasn’t as tall as Neteyam or buff or particularly attractive but he was human. Neteyam huffed, his hand reaching up to pull your face towards him.

You were pulled back into reality as his fingers touched you, you were so pathetically helpless, chained to the ground, and at his mercy. His thumb rubbed along your cheek, and his eyes narrowed on yours. “It’s doesn’t matter now, yawne. I took care of him.”

Your blood ran cold, a sudden fear that he was speaking the truth, It made you want to vomit, a horrible pit forming in your stomach. But the way he said it, like he was proud of his actions, the look in his eyes as he stared down at you, it all made your heart drop. “You’re insane!”

“Only for you,” his smile reached both ears, a look that made the hair on the back of your neck stand on end. Your heart beat wildly in your chest, and your eyes started to water, your brain running a million miles a minute trying to come up with a solution, but nothing came. Neteyam leaned down, placing a kiss against your forehead.

It was… Oddly comforting, unnervingly soft. The way his lips felt against your skin was a stark contrast to his behavior, it was almost loving. “you’re so pretty when you cry, yawne,” his breath was hot on your skin, his voice soft, and it made your skin crawl.

“Fuck you, Neteyam.” You tried to turn away, but his grip tightened on your jaw, keeping you firmly in place, the chains digging into your wrists. You didn't want to look at him, and you certainly didn't want him looking at you. “You’ve read my mind, pretty.” You tried to squirm, and pull away, the chains biting into your skin and cutting into the delicate flesh. Your hands were numb from being locked in place, the muscles tensing and relaxing with the blood circulation.

“I really wish we could have done this in a nicer way… but you are so hardheaded. I was so nice, I did everything in the world to impress you... and not once did you notice me.” Neteyam unsheathed a blade you didn’t realize he was carrying, the metal glistening in the dim light. You felt tears well up in the corners of your eyes, the sight of it alone making your stomach flip, a knot forming deep within you.

The chains rattled as you squirmed, his grip tight on your chin. The metal slid across the delicate flesh of your jaw, it was cold to the touch and sent endless shivers down your spine. Neteyam traced his way down your neck, slowly running down your chest, stopping just before he reached your top. “I’ve dreamt of this for so long… of you, without these ugly human clothes, beneath me, whimpering and crying, of me, inside you... of you saying my name.”

A new feeling began creeping into your thoughts, it wasn't fear or panic, but something else entirely. His words, his voice, everything was too much, and it was beginning to make your head spin. Neteyam moved it slowly, slicing the fabric from the front of your chest, the knife easily cutting through the fabric of your blouse and bra. You didn't notice the cold air hitting the exposed skin, and all you could think of was his dagger as it trailed down your abdomen.

He let out a guttural growl as he stared down at you, his eyes transforming into something more animalistic. “You’re so perfect. I should have killed Kyle sooner…” Your core began to warm, a heat growing deep within your belly as his eyes roamed over your body, a new wave of shame and humiliation washing over you. This was turning you on, which was completely repulsive considering the situation.

Neteyam slid the knife along the inner part of your thigh, the sharp edge scraping against the supple skin, making you gasp. He took his time cutting the fabric, his movements precise, and careful, his gaze focused on the task at hand. Neteyam let out a sort of chuckle, pausing his movements as he gazed up at you, a curious look in his eye. “You like this don’t you?”

The next words came out as a stuttered, incoherent mess of denial. “N-no- you’re c-crazy! I hate you.” His blade sliced the thin string of fabric between your legs, cutting the material with ease. “Don’t lie to me, pet. I can smell you.” You bit your lip, not daring to make eye contact. The blade pressed against the inside of your thighs, dangerously close to your heat, and you felt your legs twitch.

You didn't understand this, the way the knife made your pulse race, the way his fingers danced across your skin made you burn. His hand moved slowly, the blade pressed against your skin, the metal cool against your warmth. You felt the knife drag, and you bit down harder on your lip, trying not to show any sort of reaction, not wanting to give him the satisfaction.

Neteyam moved the knife upward, dragging the metal against your gaped lips, the smoothness of the blade making your core tighten. Your mind was swimming, unable to concentrate, the blade was pressing harder, the sharp point breaking the delicate skin. A drop of blood seeped through, and Neteyam's eyes seemed to glow, his mouth hung open slightly.

Neteyam dropped the blade, the clatter echoing through the small room, his lips reaching out to touch the wound, a small red spot where the knife had been pressed. If there was any blood, it was washed away as his tongue lashed out, cleaning the area with long, slow movements.

Your mouth opened slightly, and a small whine escaped. Neteyam chuckled into your mouth, his hand snaking up your body to grasp at your throat. You couldn't help but moan softly, as his grip tightened around your windpipe, constricting your airways.

“You’re an ass,” you hissed, his hand loosening. You had a feeling the knife had been a trick, the way he had played it up and teased, the way he had made you feel. It wasn't a true threat, and he knew it. “Oh, you don’t want to play nice anymore? He pulled the chains that binged your wrists to the wall, yanking you out of position with a yelp. Neteyam pulled you so your face was mere inches from his, “ I see you, pet. I can be meaner, hm?"

You realized in this moment how his strength truly outmatched yours, his arms easily forcing you onto the ground. You tried to pull away, the cold floor biting at the bare skin of your back. Neteyam leaned down, forcing his mouth onto yours,his tongue slipping past your lips and into your mouth. You couldn't help but let out a muffled groan, the taste of blood lingering on his tongue.

His hands groped at the bare skin of your hips, his touch sending waves of heat throughout your body. He kissed you with an urgency, like he was starving for it, his teeth tugging on your lip. The sensation made a low groan slip past your lips, and his lips curled into a wicked smile. Neteyam’s tongue slipped out of your mouth, moving down your neck, his sharp teeth nibbling at your skin.

You felt your body begin to react, your blood pulsing, your chest heaving with each labored breath. It was disgusting, and humiliating. You were completely under his control, and you could do nothing about it. You could only watch as his hands wandered, as he moved his tongue down the front of your chest, the feeling of his dangling braids tickling your flesh. And for some reason, not even ewya could explain, you were enjoying it.

His lips wrapped around one of your breasts, his hot tongue gliding over the flesh. You threw your head back, moaning softly, his tongue flicking over the sensitive tip, his teeth lightly nibbling at the sensitive skin. Neteyam let out a deep groan, his mouth closing over it. You were so absorbed in what his tongue was doing to you, you failed to notice his hand slipping between your thighs.

You let out a strangled moan, as his long fingers brushed against your dripping folds. Your eyes snapped open, the sensation was so foreign. He slid a finger inside, pumping it slowly, his thumb circling around the sensitive bud. It felt incredible, and you hated that, the pleasure washing over you.

You could hear Neteyam let out a chuckle, the sound vibrating through his lips. "Look how wet you are, pet." He began forcing in another finger, stretching you out and filling you with a burning heat. You felt your eyes roll back, letting out a soft mewl, the sound of him thrusting into you echoed through the room.

"M-more, please," you begged, his fingers moving faster, the feeling overwhelming, making you squirm. "Please, more," you panted, your pussy beginning to clench around his fingers. “Beg louder.” Neteyam's hand gripped tighter around your neck, his fingers forcing themselves deeper, stretching you.

You could feel a coil building up inside, the sensation was too much, and you were so close. “Splease, Sso good,” you slurred. Neteyam proded at the spongy spot inside you, making the coil tighten further, your walls starting to quiver around him. “P-please! Teyam please!”

Neteyam pulled his fingers out suddenly, your orgasm being cut off immediately. You let out a loud whine, a pitiful plea to keep going, his fingers leaving a trail of your own slick as they moved up. Then, he slapped you clean across the face.The sound echoed through the room, and you felt your whole body tense up. The force of the impact was surprising, and it was quickly followed by a painful stinging.

"You thought I was going to let you cum so easily? After the attitude you’ve had all night? No way, brat, I’m going to ruin you first." Neteyam was so calm, his voice so collected, it was almost unnerving. You were stunned, obscenely horny, and mildly terrified of the monster in front of you.

He sat back, admiring his handiwork. You were spread out, bound, and completely nude. Your eyes met his, and a dark laugh bubbled up in his throat. "you should see yourself," he cooed. “You look so pretty all disheveled for me.”

Neteyam leaned forward, his long, deft fingers wrapping around your throat, forcing you up, the chains chafing the delicate skin. His mouth connected with yours, the kiss more heated than the others, his teeth tugging at your bottom lip. You could feel his excitement through his loincloth, the heat radiating off of him, his length straining against the fabric.

The sudden shift in emotions made you dizzy, his touch becoming rough, and violent. Then twisting into slow and sensual, the way his tongue gilded against yours, the way his lips moved expertly against yours, the way his hands moved along your body. "I'm going to mark the fuck out of you so no man ever comes near you again.”

Neteyam grasped at your hips, proving his superior strength by flipping you over with ease. One of his large hands wrapped into your hair, the other pulling your ass up so you could feel him. He was undeniably huge, so thick, and in no way was he going to fit inside you. The sensation alone made you whimper, and it only got worse as he rubbed himself against you.

The sound of him unfastening his cloth, the jingling of his jewelry was enough to make your core tighten. His cock slipped between your folds, the head rubbing against your clit. Neteyam let out a low growl, the feeling of him making you shudder, his hands gripping the back of your neck.

Neteyam forced himself inside of you, the sudden intrusion making you scream out, and tears well up in the corners of your eyes. He was impossibly big, filling you entirely, stretching you. You let out a series of broken moans, as he slid out only to thrust back inside. Neteyam's free hand slid down your spine, his fingers gently caressing your back, before he slapped your ass.

“That’s it, baby. Keep screaming my name just like that.” Neteyam's voice was strained, the words coming out like a hiss. His grip tightened on the base of your neck, holding you firmly in place, while his hips pounded against you. The sounds of his body hitting yours echoed through the room, his cock stretching you with each thrust.

He wasn't going easy, "F-fuck me!” you cried out, as his cock grazed your g-spot. Neteyam dropped his head into the crook of your neck, his teeth leaving an imprint, his hands holding you down, his body flush against you.

The knot began to build once more, and Neteyam picked up his pace, fucking into you with reckless abandon. You moaned and whimpered, unable to stop the obscene noises that fell from your lips. His heavy panting sent chills down your spine.

Neteyam let out a deep, animalistic growl, his nails digging into the soft flesh of your hips, his teeth biting into your shoulder. "You feel so good around me, baby.” His cock throbbed inside you, his tip pounded at your cervix. You felt your pussy clamp around him, the feeling making Neteyam's hips jerk, and you let out a loud, pleasured wail.

You were so close, and the knot in your belly was tightening. “Please can I cum?!” You yelled out. Neteyam pulled himself from the warmth of your body, and you could hear his breathing turn ragged. “No no no, I have to see you.”

You didn't have to wait long, Neteyam flipped you onto your back, and his lips met yours. You felt his cock press against your folds, the head of him pushing past the entrance. His lips attached themselves to the side of your neck, his hands sliding up your chest to wrap around your throat.

Neteyam's hips met yours, his cock pounding inside you, “keep begging, yawne.” His long fingers moved to circle your clit, his thumb rolling the sensitive nub, making your eyes roll back. “Please, Neteyam,” you cried, “sgood, please can I cum!”

"Are you going to be a good little girl from now on?" Neteyam hissed, his fingers moving faster. You nodded, as you let out a low cry, "y-yes! P please, I’ll be good! You were on the verge of tears, your mind clouded. Neteyam let out a guttural groan, his pace picking up but his movements getting progressively sloppy.

Your legs began to shake, the knot was beginning to unravel. Neteyam's cock throbbed inside you, and you knew he was getting close too. "i-im gonna-" His fingers curled around your throat, stopping your sentence. “Cum on this dick like a good pet.”

Your eyes rolled into the back of your head, your body started to convulse, your muscles tensing, and then unraveling. Your orgasm ripped through you, causing you to thrash, and scream. You felt your pussy clench tightly around his length, the euphoria making your mind hazy. Neteyam's body trembled, his cock twitching as he spilled inside you. His seed filled you entirely, warming your belly, and dripping out onto your thighs as he pulled out slowly.

You were spent, too weak to move and too dazed to think straight. Time passed fast, the loss of his body heat lost in your head. You felt him shift beside you, his head dangling over yours as he peppered kisses onto your face. “You’re so pretty all fucked out…” he cooed, his hand gently rubbing your head.

You murmured something in reply, not fully hearing what he was saying. “I’m so happy you’re here with me, yawne.”Neteyam spoke, his voice soft. You heard his voice echo through the room, the words becoming jumbled as sleep overtook you. He continued petting your hair, watching you sleep peacefully. This was nice, harder than he expected, but it was nice.

“And you’re going to be here with me forever…”

My beloveds - @xylianasblog @strongheartneteyam @criticallybella

#neteyam te suli tsyeyk'itan #neteyam sully #neteyam x avatar!reader #neteyam x f!reader #neteyam x reader #neteyam x you #neteyam x y/n #neteyam smut #neteyam fic #neteyam fanfiction #atwow smut #atwow fic #atwow x reader

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dabisbratz · 1 year

Text

PENITENCE — leon s. kennedy x male reader

w.c: ~5.3k

warning: sub bottom reader, thigh fucking, spit, standing doggy style, dirty talk, leon’s weak pullout game x2, mixed praise/degradation, oral, choking, sexualizing las plagas, breeding mentions, sir kink, finger hooking, drool, infected leon is a lil mean, dumbification, accidental creampie

a/n: got a loooot of requests for a sequel to this!! so here it is! i hope you enjoy! ૮꒰ ´͈ ˙̫ `͈ Ꮚ꒱ა this fic had a mind of its own!! didn get to write leon as feral as i wanted to but… that’s okay!

You’ve never been shot before. Punched, sure, clean in the jaw in the midst of a training session. It caught you so off guard you nearly swallowed your teeth, and the blood gushing from your nose and coating the pearls tasted like rusty gunmetal. But it really didn’t hurt that bad, you felt more congested than anything.

You've never been shot before. Stabbed, sure, right through the hand until thick blood poured straight out your palm like nature’s greatest waterfall. It wasn’t as sharp as you’d think, not some sort of pinch akin to getting a piercing. No, it was panic first, your eyes trailed down to meet the handle of a hunting knife that cut clean through your palm. Then came the realization, Scorching heat beaming through your hand until it began to tremble. But hand wounds heal fast, you barely remember it.

You’ve never been shot before. Grazed, sure, blasted with the shells of a silver shotgun bullet so hard it seared your skin and left an open-mouthed gash. Your bullet ricocheted off an unknown surface, all because you’d taken it upon yourself to practice your aim alone. But it was just a graze, and so long ago the scar had begun to fade.

So the first time it happens, you’re taken for a loop.

Your legs burn, aching as you trudge beside Leon in his hasty motion up a particularly slippery hill. It’s like you’ve been walking in circles, deeper and deeper into the village but somehow passing the same bloodstained tree. For a man who was over a hundred fifty pounds of sheer force and willpower, he sure was light on his toes. Had there not been moisture from previous nights’ rain still lingering in the air you're sure it’d be easier— no mud to slip on, no pockets of rainwater that looked much more shallow than they actually were— but it lingers.

And it’s not just that, there’s an everlasting tremor in your thighs as you walk, you can barely take a few steps without your movements stuttering. You can’t excuse it as a pulled muscle, not when Leon’s been forcing you to sit back and observe. Though it’s partially his fault, you deduce, because you can see the growing pride in his stride as he listens to your trip over your own feet. Almost like it was a mission, fuck the rookie until he cries and let him walk for himself.

Asshole.

You can’t stop talking, not when your brain is working overtime and you have so many questions. Though it’s not entirely clear if he’s listening, Leon’s body subconsciously teeters in your direction, almost like he’s trying to collect your body heat. He’s certainly done that, that and much more. He’s stolen the air from your lungs with a heavy kiss, he’s collected the sounds of your moans and sealed them in a jar.

You spare him a heavy glance, watching the muscles in his back ripple as he marches through the thickening mud. You wish you’d gotten the chance to see him without it, to card your fingers through the strong fabric as he pulls his shirt over his head and balls it up in his veiny fists. To watch his hair fall, golden bundles framing his face and falling back into place like magic, nearly swept over his eye and so unabashedly Leon.

“Would you stop staring at me?” There’s a playful edge to his voice, teetering around the edges as he blows a bullet straight through the frail neck of an infected resident. You’re too focused on the nape of his neck to watch it explode, an amalgamation of blood and arteries and fat splattering onto the ground and surrounding houses. “I mean, if you want a picture all you have to do is ask.”

You can tell he’s somehow watching you through the corner of his gunmetal gray eyes, with your blatant staring, but he doesn’t seem to have much on the tip of his tongue besides a few smartmouthed remarks. Maybe he has eyes behind his full head of hair.

“Ha-ha, very funny.” You purse your lips, tightening your grip around the flashlight paving the way forward.

Truthfully, you’d underestimated just how much cardio and legwork it took to navigate this village— sure, the implication of missing hikers in the area meant there’d be a trail to hike, but in your head it was much more akin to training. Controlled, steep hills that didn’t continue on as far as the eye can see, an obstacle course that had an obtainable goal— it feels like you’re wandering aimlessly.

But Leon’s with you, so surely that can’t be right.

You wonder how much preparation and time he took into this, how many nights of sparring turned into considering your presence under the same blanket of stars, how often he made things with you in mind. Even if it’s just for a mission.

Quite frankly, it was all the time. Thinking of you put an indescribable amount of weight on his chest, it capsized his shoulders, so feathery light, and yet somehow still managed to put strain on his posture. He was always so laid back, cracking jokes and likable by definition. Yet there he stood, second guessing his abilities in protecting you, having you, wooing you. Ashley is his priority. . . but you’re his partner.

And he wants more.

“Leon?” Apprehension builds in your voice, Leon’s steady stride suddenly broken as he looks down at his hands. You bump right into him, colliding face-first into his body. His back is just as sturdy as it looks, barely jolting as you peek around to look at his handsome face.

His veins are turning black, coiling up his wrists from his hands, inky black streaks that branch off up his forearm and disappear under his shirt. Even the thicker veins decorating his bicep— they’ve become an ugly charcoal that looks entirely too unnatural. Painful. As if leeches have burrowed themselves under his skin, the intrusion crawls further into his bloodstream as small, deep grunts escape from his lips.

You still have yet to ask what happened during your separation— after you ran. But, in a way, you’ve got your answer.

“You with me, Lee?” You search his face for something, anything, under the furrowed brows and clenched teeth. His jaw sets, characteristically rigid, which is a generous start. Somewhere beneath the icy blue of his eyes you see recognition, like he’s not exactly looking at you, but he knows you’re there. Lucid enough. Good.

But without Leon leaving a path of bodies for you to walk over, you have to take over and pave the way.

“I’m gonna take your gun, okay?” It’s rhetorical, whether he likes it or not, because he took your gun away before you truly had the chance to use it— and it’s not entirely like he’s in the position to be making demands. You wish you could laugh about it, let a boyish smile wiggle its way across your face, but without Leon there to laugh with you… there’s no point.

And, like most instances, you find yourself jumping into action before you can think, dragging every pound of steel Leon has to offer through the village until you can find somewhere safe. It happens all too fast. One moment, you’re holding onto the pistol while wrapping an arm around Leon’s waist, blowing holes through the infected like you were made for it, watching their bodies topple to the ground in a lifeless display. Then. . .

“Fuck, oh fuck, fuckfuckfuck,” Your heart plummets into your stomach, you can’t help but think you’ve swallowed a bomb. Your blood is cold on your slick skin, flowing down your bicep like sort of fucked up waterfall. It’s thick and sticky, a rich shade of red that only seems to get darker and darker as it pours from your arm. You can’t help but call for your partner, tightening your grip on his waist. “Leon…”

Getting grazed is not the same.

There’s a similar burn, but this time it’s from the outside-in and back out again. Like you’ve been stung by a swarm bees, all at the same time, and in the same exact spot.

It happened so fast, threw you for a loop, the metal of an axe bounced your bullet right back at you, and landed right through your arm.

Your eyes widen, jittery as Leon parts his legs, planting his boots into the mud in a futile attempt at staying upright. Selfless as ever, the blond just can’t seem to sit still when he knows someone he cares about is in danger.

His dusty pink lips are curled into a snarl, one of his veiny hands clasped over your own; fisting at the bunched up fabric by his waist. His eyes, previously clenched shut, are no longer a brilliant shade of blue— they’ve turned yellow, bright like a citrusy candy. His face, still as handsome as before, is adorned with streaky, black veins that cluster near his left cheekbone and disappear into his cheeks. Instinctively, you raise your arm to swipe away his hair in a half-assed attempt at consolation, but the movement burns before you can put away your pistol.

Leon’s eyes flicker to your bicep, watching the red ooze from the inflamed bullet-shaped hole. His gaze darkens, something you can’t quite grasp flashing in his eyes as he takes the gun from your hand and pushes you behind him.

“Leon—”

“Move! Now!” His voice is much deeper than before— still buttery smooth, just dropping in octaves as he yells into the night air. You don’t have to be told twice, stumbling in the mud as he pushes you in the general direction of an abandoned house. In a perfect world you’d use your knife to help, but something tells you sticking around would just worsen the situation for everyone.

So you rush into the house, bursting through the creaky door as gunshots ring behind you. Almost as loud as the static in your ears, buzzing as you search for a closed off room.

The house is empty, fairly sized— equipped with a staircase that leads upstairs. Bedrooms, you presume, since there are only bathrooms and living spaces on the first floor. The floorboards whine and groan under your weight, tracking mud as you keep your hand clasped over your bicep. It probably won’t make much of a difference now, but the bleeding has subsided into thick clots, which momentarily lightens your mood.

You don’t have much on you, it’s best to travel light when you have places to be— heavy backpacks can weigh you down. But you do have a few bandages and travel-sized disinfectant wipes. You can only help Leon effectively if you help yourself first— you’re dead weight if you go back out there dipped in blood— so you get to work.

It’s hasty, messy, and unorganized, but you get it done. Your bicep is wrapped snug, with enough pressure to support your arm without cutting off any circulation. It’s the best you can do for now, with the panic and anxiety blooming in your throat. It burns like bile, attacking your senses until all you can think of is Leon. The look on his face, the sounds of his pained grunts, the veins darkening beneath his skin.

As if he’s heard you, your silent prayers for his presence in its entirety, he crashes through the door. It squeals on its hinges, slamming shut behind him as his heavy boots collide with the wooden floorboards. You can’t quite make out anything else, just the sound of his shoes as he walks through the hall, and into the bathroom.

Maybe it’s just a hunch, an inference, but there’s irritation floating between his steps. You can feel it radiating off him despite not exactly being near him. The sound of poorly running water emits from the small room, muffled through the door, along with a steadier stream of swears.

“Leon?” You ask, pushing yourself off the wooden diningroom chair with the support of your unwounded arm. Would it be best to give him some space? But that’s not really an option, not with what you witnessed. Not with that intrusion trying to take over his body. “I’m coming in.”

Nearly tripping over the red rug decorating the hallway between the bathroom and living spaces, you clumsily open the bathroom door. Just Leon— sitting on the wide ledge of the bathroom’s squat toilet, his gun discarded on the opposing mantel. You can’t see his face, not with his hair casting silky shadows along the expanse of it, but you can picture his tight lipped expression just fine.

The thought makes heat burst through your skin. Nowhere near as painful as a gunshot wound. This time it’s comforting and sweet, it makes your legs feel like jelly and your heart like jam.

“Ocupado,” He sounds rather proud of himself for that one, readjusting his spot on the ledge. The blond lifts his gaze, shades of blue overcasting the previous yellow hues that once clouded his vision. “How do you feel..Your arm..?”

You should be asking him that.

“I’m good,” You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, the strain of your shoulders dissipating into the air the longer you look at him. “You know me. Are you…okay?”

Perhaps ‘okay’ isn’t the word for it. You want to ask if he feels weird, if the deepening of his veins bothers him. What it felt like when he was rendered unconscious. When you felt it— tied to that damned cross— it wasn’t nearly as bad as Leon. In fact, it didn't hurt you at all. You didn’t even notice until the entirety of your arms were decorated in pure, black branches.

“Yeah,” He blinks, not once removing his gaze from the curl of your lips. Still so shiny and wet, soft as they curl with every vowel and syllable that leaves them. He swallows hard, audible as his adam’s apple bobs in his throat. Your eyes trace the small mole just below it, the way his throat bulges. “I’m okay. For the most part.”

He doesn’t seem entirely there, lifting himself up wordlessly until he’s crashing into you, his large, gloved hand finding a place around your neck as he pulls you into a kiss.

The bathroom isn’t an ideal place to do it, though you suppose you two don’t have a clean track record of kissing in the best places. He swallows the air from your lungs, deep and gentle as his lips melt into yours. He tastes just like he did a few hours, just slightly saltier. He tastes like you, you’re still heavy on his tongue and it seems he’s hooked on your flavor.

His tongue is silky, messy in your mouth as you try your hardest to absorb his heat. His mouth is so warm, so wet, and you can’t help but whimper when he pulls away. You want to chase it, that heat, so you can’t help yourself when you follow after his lips.

Oh.

Leon’s eyes— they’re red, and the impossibly dark streaks under his skin are somehow darker.

“Your—”

“I wanna fuck you so bad,” It leaves his lips before the both of you have time to process it. He’s much more surprised than you, pink roses blooming on the apples of his cheeks despite the clear obstruction of his body. You appreciate the honesty, clearing your throat to mask the laugh bubbling in your chest. Leon’s okay, and he’s not just saying it. “…Sorry.”

Leon’s red-eyed gaze is casted to the side, but even in his efforts to avoid looking at you, he can’t help himself. It’s cute, really, charming enough to have your heart doing somersaults in your chest.

“Then do it.”

Blue embers sparkle in his eyes, and suddenly you’re being pulled out the cramped bathroom. Whatever he’s infected with, it’s heightened his abilities, because his grip on your wrist feels just as strong as the rusty chains in the cathedral. He’s holding onto you like you’ll disappear if he doesn’t, an iron grip that feels more comfortable than painful. And through it all, he’s cautious of your injury.

It doesn’t stop him from slapping you against the wall, your back colliding with the old, peeling wallpaper with a loud thud.

“You’re sure—” You start, the words catching in your throat when Leon’s strong hands tear your shirt apart, straight through the middle. The cold air hits you instantly, sending shivers up your spine as you whine in protest. “I only have one shirt!”

“I have a jacket.” His answer is barely audible, as he’s too busy watching the rise and fall of your chest with hungry, predatory eyes. You’re looking at Leon, who has every feature of the man. . . But he feels different. He feels bigger, in every sense of the word, towering over you as his red eyes study you like a bloodthirsty shark.

Next are your pants, you take the liberty of unbuckling your utility belt, keeping your gaze on Leon as he watches your hands pull them down. A considerate patch of sticky wetness decorates the front of your boxers, darkening and dampening the fabric. Leon’s pink tongue slides over his equally pink lips, whatever restraint he’s using slowly slipping away. You expect him to follow suit, but his hands are on you and he’s guiding you down to your knees.

Your face nuzzles against the fabric of his pants, thick but nowhere near as thick as his cock, which has a prominent, twitching outline.Your mouth waters, saliva pooling between your lips as your eyes flutter shut and he presses your cheek against his dick, firm and rough. His hands are so big, cupping the back of your head as he releases a small, hushed groan.

Leon watches you unzip his pants with parted lips and a baited breath. You look so damn pretty, eyes glazed over within the matter of a few seconds and a stupid look in your eye the second you see his dick again. Like you’ve missed it, when it was only just a few hours ago when he was buried deep inside you. He lets you push his pants down to his ankles, your eyes roaming along the skin of his toned thighs, which black vines slowly creep down.

You press a pretty, openmouthed kiss against the head of his cock, watching precum bead at the tip and smear across your lips. Such a sweet boy, kissing his cock as a greeting.

“Goddamn, you’re so cute,” His grip travels down your face to the top of your neck, where your throat meets your jaw. Your gaze is forced upward, straight into Leon’s vermillion irises as he offers a small squeeze. “Just a little slut. Aren’t you, sweetheart?”

“Mhm, yeah,” You pant against his skin, shimmying forward to grind your front against the leather of his boot. “For you— just for you, Sir.”

Yeah, you could get used to this. The girth of his cock, the vein that disappears beneath the pretty head of his dick, the way his balls weigh heavily against your chin. His pubes are a deeper shade of brown, slightly curly and enough that makes you want to bury your nose in it. He’s so sticky, slick and wet like he’s been thinking about this for a while. The thought of Leon gripping himself through his pants is just so hot, the way he’d buck up into his fist and imagine it’s you instead. The way he’d groan and moan into the air, chasing after some artificial tightness that could only simulate you. Your mouth, your hole.

“Think you can be a good boy for me?” You chase after his cock as he pulls it away, gripping it by the base with a gloved hand. You can only imagine how good the leather of his fingerless gloves feel against it. He coos at your attempts to follow along, meanly slapping the weight of his dick against your cheek until you’re messy with precum. “Hm? Yeah?”

You nod frantically, opening your mouth and covering your bottom row of teeth with your tongue. You can be good, you can be good for Leon.

Tears spring in your eyes the second he’s pushing into your mouth, groaning at the sound of your gags as his cock slides in and out, deeper and deeper without warning. He can’t help it, not when you’re drooling all over his pants and whining for it. Not when you’d look so cute hazy eyed and stained with tears as he fucks your throat. Not when your throat bulges around his cock, letting out wet squelches as you struggle to keep your eyes open and watch his hips snap against you.

“That’s it,” Leon sighs, shaky and content as he holds you in place. His good boy. “Just like that, you take it so—f-hucking—good.”

You lurch back, tears blurry in your eyes as you sputter and gag. His precum is salty and warm, coating your throat as you flutter your eyes and hold onto the swell of Leon’s strong, thick thighs. Heat ripples through your body in waves as a low growl rumbles in his throat, bouncing into your ears.

“Shh, I know, I know. Don’t run from me, let me in,” He coos, sliding his long cock from your mouth to watch a long trail of your spit thin out the further he pulls away. “It’s just too big for you, is that right? Hard to focus on anything when all you can think of is dick.”

You’re breathing heavily, panting loud as you slowly register the mess on your face, your chin. Your lips feel swollen, but your mouth feels empty. You must have a particularly dumb look on your face because it pulls a laugh out of the man in front of you, rich and hearty as he lifts you up with an authoritative hand around your throat.

“C’mere.” He mumbles, pulling you in to pepper messy kisses along your jaw. He’s more impulsive, you gather, with whatever’s coursing through his veins. Rougher too, with the way his hand tightens around your throat when he’s throwing commands at you. You don’t mind it, not at all. In fact, it’s made you all hazy, you feel like you’re traveling through a thick layer of fog as you nod along. You want to be good, to earn his praise.

Leon’s hands travel to your waist, dipping into the plush skin until your thighs are spread just far enough for his cock to fit between them. You’ve never felt so exposed, whining high in your throat no matter how pathetic it sounds, and pressing your body against his firm chest.

His cock feels as big as it looks, long and curved as he slides it between your thighs. You can feel every twitch and pulse, you’re sure he can feel you too— with how he’s grunting and groaning against your neck. He fucks into your thighs like he’s chasing after something, trying to satiate it. His grip is punishing, the pads of his fingertips digging into your skin until it hurts.

“I can’t,” You whine, shaking your head as you watch his cock disappear between your thighs. “S’not— I wanna—”

“You can,” Leon growls, making a low warning of a noise in his throat as he tuts in disapproval. It goes straight to your stomach, tingles shocking your body as you clench around nothing. “And you will.”

Instead of keeping you upright by the throat, Leon’s hands leave you to fend for yourself as he slides them down your supple skin, down every dip and curve and slope, until he’s playing with the leftover stickiness of your hole.

You’re certain there’s nowhere near as comfortable as Leon’s arms. They’re big and strong, plush and warm against your skin, and firm in your hand when he’s flexing. They keep you secure and safe, protected from whatever monstrosities are in this godforsaken place, you’re sure he’d hold you till you both fell asleep, and you’d be enveloped in his warmth.

He smells just as warm too, faintly of vanilla underneath all that sex and remnants of polluted air.

“Christ, you’re so… Warm around my fingers. Give it to me, baby, let me fuck you with my fingers.”

You love his warmth, it spreads across your body and travels down your chest, your stomach, your thighs, until he’s taking you apart with it. His fingers are so warm, so thick and perfect as they fuck into you. Even when you’re sloppy like this, sucking his fingers back in like you’d never wanted to be left empty again in the first place, working your hips back to chase after his knuckles. The warmth of his arms as he flips you around, pushes your weight into his own by the base of your neck, maneuvers you just right, keeps you open and vulnerable for him. All for him.

Yeah, there’s nowhere else you’d rather be.

“Hey, you with me?” It’s his turn to ask, and you wonder if he felt the same butterflies you did.

“Yeah, I’m,” You’re breathlessly spreading your legs and pulling yourself apart with the warmth of your palms to reveal the puffiness of your hole, fucked out and shiny from earlier’s abuse. Leon wonders how easy it’d be to slip back in, to inch his cock deeper and deeper inside as you flutter around him and keen with oversensitivity. “M’with you, Sir.”

“Atta boy,” The smile he flashes is all teeth, dangerous and sharp as his canines glint in the dim lighting. You have half the heart to be a bit scared, but it doesn’t mean much when he’s working you open when you’re already so sensitive. Your hips jitter, twitching both toward and away from his fingers as he presses against that same bundle of nerves from earlier— it’s too much. This time you really mean it, because the second he hits it, tears spring in your eyes and you’re fisting remnants of the peeling wallpaper like a lifeline. “Greedy little hole. Didn’t you just take me?”

“Ohh, oh, God! Leon,” He hums in acknowledgement, as if he’s actually listening to your mindless babbling, nodding with lidded eyes as he uses your hips to pull you down onto his fingers. He’s using you like some kind of toy, moving you with one hand as you sit there and take it. You’re melting into the wall, drool slipping through the seam of your lips and trailing down your exposed chest. “You— your fingers, feel so good.”

“I know, baby.”

The way you’re convulsing around his fingers is telling, crying and sobbing and squealing into the wallpaper while he angles your back down. His large palm presses into the small of your back, strong and firm as he pushes and pushes until you’re arching just right and exposed.

“Let me fuck you till I cum, be my toy,” You can barely hear him over your own sobs, shifting your weight between legs as you steady yourself. His cock slips in easy, smooth and wet and perfect. You missed this feeling the second it left, the fullness of his dick inside you. The curve of his long cock as it inches inside, the feeling of that one particular vein pulsing deep inside. “Gonna fuck you over and over. Yeah? Got that? Because you’re all mine.”

“Uh-huh, mhm,” You gasp, every inhale making you sputter and choke on your tears. “Yes, Sir.”

If you weren’t crying before you surely are now, with the sharp thrusts Leon’s pistoning into your hole, loud and sloppy and squelching as he backs you up on his cock. It’s like he’s mounted you, shoving your face into the wall as he slams into you. In and out, in and out, in and out…With every slap of his balls against your thighs you whine, small pitiful sounds escaping your lips until your voice goes hoarse and all you can do is weakly claw at the wall.

But you’ve been good, save for a few whiny noises and indiscreet pouting, you’ve been so good. So Leon lets your uninjured hand wander, even guides it down to your front as he fucks you from behind so hard it feels like you’re going stupid. You can’t see him like this, but you’d bet there’s a feral look on his face. Pupils blown wide as his red eyes focus on the view of his cock disappearing inside you, his brain short circuiting as it repeats the same code over and over.

Breed, breed, breed.

“Wanna breed you,” He rasps, strong arms pulling you the second he’s pulling out. No matter what, you’re full of him. You’re full of him even as his cock slides away, a trail of precum connecting the two of you as it froths between your thighs and his balls. “Can I fuck my cum into your sloppy little hole? Hm?”

“Course, f’course,” It’s all out the window, every possible thought you’d ever had about how uncomfortable it could be to be…preoccupied while on a mission. Because you want it, you want to be full. You want him to give it to you, deeper and harder and messier and… More. “..Please..”

“Nice of you to say, but,” He groans high in his throat, voice tight and heavy as his hips grow sloppy and weak. Yet, his cock still feels so heavy in your hole, makes you feel like you’re ready to burst apart at the seams. Leon’s fingers pull at your cheeks, slipping in your mouth and pulling at the skin until your mouth is forced wide, your tongue slipping from your mouth as you drool and cry. “I wasn’t really asking. You’d let me cum wherever I wanted, wouldn’t you? It’s okay, sweetheart, you’re cute when you go dumb on my dick.”

You can’t do this.

You tried, really. You tried your hardest, held it for as long as you could. But you’re already there, almost screaming on his dick as you flutter and clamp down on it, light beaming in your stomach as your body grows sensitive and weak. You’re cumming. And Leon’s hand around your throat doesn’t do anything besides aid it, the way you gush and whine around his cock despite his insistent thrusts. You can’t think, you can’t breathe, and it feels so fucking good.

“Jesus fuck, you take that cock so well. Such a good boy, my pretty slut,” Leon pulls you into him, pressing his chest against your back as he sinks his teeth into the base of your neck. Not enough to draw blood, no, just enough to leave a Leon S. Kennedy sized bite mark along your skin. “Tell me you love this cock, pretty baby. I know you can.”

“I love— ohhh — love your cock, Sir. M’so full.” Your twitching doesn’t cease, instead egging him on as your pretty little hole sucks him in deeper, holding him like a vice. Warm and slick, he can’t help but moan into your neck as his balls tighten and he cums.

“That’s it,” You watch him pant through the corner of your eyes, weighed down by fatigue, sex, and the entirety of today's ordeals. But at least the richness of his veins are beginning to clear up, and his pretty, arctic blue eyes are starting to resurface. You smile around a hearty moan, feeling your insides flood with warmth as his eyes flutter shut and his body shudders. “I could really get used to this.”

It’s hard and fast, much too fast for him to have pulled out to shoot across your back— no, he’s partially shot a thick, creamy rope inside you. His veins pulse at the thought, satiated with the sight of your fucked-out hole drooling with his cum.

“Oh… Fuck.”

He’s hard again.

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imgoingtofreakoutnow · 7 months

Text

Sketch me down, see me through – pt. 1

Summary: After a quiet day, you decide to sketch Astarion

Pairing: Astarion x Tav

Words: 1.9k

Warnings: it's really just a fluffy thing, lots of pining, they're both touch-starved

A/N: I wrote this a while back and it's not too bad, so enjoy! Here you can find Part 2 (@tripleyeeet you know this already but enjoy still! also, @yn-ymn-yln you might like this)

\_/

The day was slowly fading into the night as the fire of the camp stretched towards the burning sky.

It had been a weirdly uneventful day: you had wandered around without a real aim or purpose all day, mostly enjoying the view than actively looking for more loot. You still managed to stumble across a couple of lonely barrels and chests, gaining nothing really useful other than a well-crafted dagger with neat gold details in the handle.

Your companions were nowhere to be seen, probably drinking in the village nearby or resting in their tents or simply enjoying the company of somebody else.

As you sat alone next to the fire, sketching a bird roaming a few feet away and looking for food in the grass, you didn’t really mind a chance to enjoy your own company.

“There you are!”

The bird flew away in a ruffle of feathers when Astarion’s voice rumbled in the small clearing your camp was set in.

“I thought you had joined the others at the tavern,” he said, plopping down behind you with a tired sigh.

“I wasn’t really in the mood for drinking…” you mumbled with a shrug, your hand jotting down the last details of the bird before they left your brain, “or being among other people.”

“I better hope you don’t mind my company.”

His head popped over your shoulder, but you didn’t raise your gaze from the drawing, too focused shading the charcoal with your finger than giving in to his egotistical nature.

“You know I don’t,” you assured, blowing away the excess black dust from the parchment, “but you did make my model fly away.”

Astarion scanned silently the small sketchbook still open in your hands from behind your shoulder. You could feel his breath brushing your ear, creating a web of shivers that ran one after the other along your spine.

“Look at that.” His fingers reached for your drawing. You held your breath as they hovered over the dark and slightly smudged lines. “I had no idea we had such a talented artist within our group.”

“I’m not that good,” you scoffed with a smile, turning your head ever so slightly towards his, “but thank you.”

“However,” he continued, scratching thoughtfully his chin, “you could definitely use a better model.”

You nodded slowly, pressing your lips together before clicking your tongue. “You’re right, I should ask Gale to pose for me.”

“Gale?!”

“Or Shadowheart,” you added, ignoring his insulted tone. “Her features are so soft, perfect for a portrait.” You met his eyes with a grin. “Don’t you agree?”

Astarion huffed through his nose, pulling back and leaning on his arms. “I suppose she could be a decent model, but I don’t see her around to be sketched.”

You snorted, turning around on your seat to face his narrow scarlet eyes.

“Oh, is my annoyance amusing to you?”

“If you wanted me to sketch you so badly,” you started, turning to a blank page of your sketchbook, “you could’ve simply asked.”

Astarion stared at you for a second, his lips slightly parted and his eyes wide in surprise. Those were the small expressions that you loved more about him: those seconds in between, where his facade broke for a moment, revealing something so brief that simply couldn’t be faked.

Then he cleared his throat and his mask of smugness covered his face once again, annihilating whatever real emotion that had made its appearance on his features. “If you insist, darling.”

He laid down on the grass, propping himself up with his elbow. His head rested on his closed fist, tilted as his half-lidded gaze was stuck on you. “So, how do you want me?”

You swallowed the sudden lump in your throat. No matter how many times he looked at you like that or his words tickled your brain with lewd thoughts, Astarion always managed to stir something in your guts; a pull you couldn’t always ignore, especially when you were completely alone.

“You can just sit up,” you assured him, breaking away from his eyes to sharpen your pencil. “I’m not that good of an artist to draw you like that,” you explained a moment later, pointing at the relaxed —and obviously thought-out— position he was in.

“As you wish.”

Surprisingly, Astarion immediately followed your request, sitting back up with not even one objecting word.

“Nevertheless,” he murmured, leaning towards you, “if anatomy is the department you lack, I’ll be more than happy to aid you with your… sketches.” A devilish grin appeared on his face as his hand moved in the air with his words. “In every position you might ever need.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Your calm voice and mischievous grin, almost mirroring Astarion’s, were in no way a faithful reflection of the turmoil storming your chest and mind.

“Now stay still,” you told him, your focus slowly shifting to the drawing as you started laying down the first few guiding lines.

“I’ll be as immovable as a rock, darling.”

“And silent,” you mumbled, your eyes darting from the page to Astarion’s slightly vexed expression.

Astarion noticed your frowning, however he had no time to articulate the question on the tip of his tongue that you had leaned in. Your hand reached out hesitantly, almost waiting for him to pull away or shoving you back in an instinctive reaction. But he didn’t.

You gently grabbed his chin, guiding his face slightly to the side. Then your thumb moved to the spot between his eyebrows, smoothing away the crease of irritation altering his features. You could feel the tension in his muscles give away under your touch, any resistance crumbling under your fingertips.

“There,” you whispered, admiring the calm expression on Astarion’s face. “Can you stay like that for a while?”

“Of course, darling.”

Your heart skipped a beat when he spoke. There was a sudden softness to him, one that you had never seen for longer than the blink of an eye. It was almost overwhelming, even after you had lowered your gaze to work on the small portrait.

Your pencil, guided by your hand, moved quickly on the page. You didn’t really need to look at Astarion to sketch him. His cheekbones, the curve of his lips, the shape of his eyes, his features had long been carved in your mind.

If he had taken the sketchbook —as you feared he was going to— when he appeared next to you, he would’ve found pages and pages covered in quick and small drawings of him. Studies of his face, hair, hands; whatever your mind could recall accurately.

Nonetheless, there was always something that you never managed to get exactly right.

You moved your gaze from the page, studying closely his eyes and the ever-changing glint behind them as you tried to recreate it with charcoal and parchment. An impossible task that made you sigh more loudly than you expected.

“I can almost smell your brain fuming, darling.”

You put down the pencil, straightening your spine and stretching your sore neck. You scrunched your eyes, exhausted of drawing in the dim and shifting light of the flames.

“Is it done?”

When you opened your eyes, Astarion was subtly peering over the page, the smug grin on his face unable to hide his nervous anticipation.

“I think so,” you mumbled, shading one last detail before staring critically at your creation. As you looked at it, you noticed so many details out of place: a line too straight, a curl too twirly, a shadow too dark…

“It could be better,” you said apologetically as you handed the sketchbook to your model, “but I hope you like it.”

Hesitantly, almost as if the book was made of fire, Astarion took it.

He stared at your drawing for a long time, his fingers following the charcoal lines and then looking for those same shapes on his face. A small shaky breath left his lips as his fingertips moved on his neck, brushing the scars of the bite.

“I had never seen them on me before,” he whispered, scoffing slightly as his hand fell back on the drawing.

“I actually drew them a bit too high,” you explained, pointing at the sketch with your smudged fingertips. “And the nose is too straight, and it’s all a bit of a mess-”

Your voice was cut off when Astarion took your hand in his. Before you could utter another syllable, he brought it to his lips, leaving a lingering kiss on your knuckles.

“Nonsense, darling. You’ve given me a mirror in which I will always be able to see myself.”

He kissed the inner part of your wrist, his eyes locked in yours as his teeth grazed your veins. “How will I ever be able to repay you for this?”

“You don’t have to.” Ignoring your burning skin, you squeezed gently Astarion’s hand in yours as his eyebrows shot up. “I did this for you and you only. I’m not expecting anything in return.”

Astarion still looked at you with a puzzled expression while you took your sketchbook out of his grip, took the short dagger hidden in your boot and carefully cut the page with his portrait out of it.

“This is yours,” you said handing him the rough sheet of parchment, “and it should’ve never been taken from you in the first place.”

As if he was handling the smallest and frailest animal, Astarion accepted the page in his hand, his wide eyes still marveling at the way your lines came together to recreate him.

“I…”

For once, words failed him.

He looked up from the sketch and a million emotions crossed his face. Confusion and relief. Sadness and recognition. Fear and joy. And that softness, that overwhelming look empty of all the sharp edges that defined him every other moment.

“Thank you,” he whispered, placing a shaky hand on your cheek. “I won’t forget it.”

That touch was alien to you.

It wasn’t the kind of touch that you had learned to expect from Astarion. It wasn’t sexual or teasing, anticipating a pleasure that he seemed always so eager to satisfy. It was gentle, hinting at an intimacy you had never dared to entertain, not even when you were falling asleep in your tent and your neck was still sore where his teeth had dug their way into your flesh.

His thumb moved slowly, hesitantly on your skin. You were both entering uncharted territories and you could do nothing more than being careful. Nonetheless, you couldn’t help but lean into his touch as you always did, kissing softly his palm to let him know that you wanted it.

That you craved this intimacy, no matter how long you both needed to get there.

Some voices reached your ears —drunken and loud singing— and before you could make out who they belonged to, Astarion had already moved away, leaving your cheek to the cold touch of the night.

He quickly folded the drawing and put it away, giving you one last small smile before a smug grin bloomed on his face and removed every other emotion. He stood up and headed towards Gale and Wyll, the swaying owners of those voices that had just entered the camp.

As the crowd was becoming a little too much for your liking, you headed into your tent, falling with a sigh on your pillow. You could still hear the other three outside, but your mind was wandering far away, relishing in the memories of that night as you slowly fell asleep.

#astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion bg3 #astarion #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #dnd #astarion ancunin #astarion fic

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shewrites02 · 21 days

Text

Forgive Me if I break You | Zoro x Reader | Part II

Part I

Trigger warnings: Domestic assault, Alcohol, verbal abuse , physical abuse, graphic depictions of violence. THIS FIC CONTAINS DARK CONTENT ! MINORS DNI !

*THERE IS A GRAPHIC DEPECTION OF DOMESTIC VIOLENCE IN THE FIRST FLASHBACK, IF NOT COMFORTABLE PLEASE SKIP. (the last line is the most important anyway)*

A/N: Thank you for all the support I've gotten at the start of this series, I was so nervous no one would be interested lol. I hope this part lives up to your expectations.

Request: Open

Word count: 5K

Leave a comment if you enjoy :)

The cold of the ice pack stings against your cheek, almost as much as the insults lodged in your throat with nowhere to go. Harshly, you swallow them down, having to reacclimate to the taste of stifled feelings. Almost completely forgotten in those two months.

You're in your shared bedroom, sitting in Lee's lap. Your head lays against his chest. With how tenderly he stroked your hair, you're almost able to imagine care in his touch. Pretend it is the swordsman who caresses you so tenderly. Lee places a soft kiss to your cheek, laying his head against yours.

"I'm sorry, y/n ... I didn't mean to lose my temper." He coos. In the past six months he never came up with any other excuse. Always an apology then an explanation of why it was your fault.

"It's jus’- you embarrassed me in front of our guests, interrupting me like that. You know I hate when you do that- and that fucking swordsman clearly has feelings for you."

Lee is almost completely lost in his rambling, and you think for a moment you will get relief from this puppet show he has forced you into. But the mention of Zoro has you going stiff.

"It's disgusting. a lowlife pirate thinking he can have what is mine. I forbid you from seeing him, do you understand?"

"Yes dear." you respond.

As if the swordsman wanted anything to do with you now. Not after what you've done to him- not after he has seen how pathetic you are. The future world's best swordsman deserves more than someone like you.

"I'm so glad you're home." Lee pivots. "I can't believe I thought you left me-"

Lee lets out a chuckle as though the thought is inconceivable. In spite of your rigidness, the chief takes a deep breath to relax into the headboard. Each chuckle that leaves his mouth tightens your shackles. Reaffirming what you already know- you aren't going anywhere.

"Is that what happened to the countryside?" You ask meekly. Fearful of the answer, but so desperate for the truth. "Did you burn the lemon grove to punish me?"

"... Yes."

Tears swell in your eyes as you pull away to look at the merciless man in front of you. A man who would bathe in your blood with no remorse. So desperate for your obedience he is willing to strip the last memories of your mother away from you as punishment . Did not need proof of your transgressions, his outrage evidence enough to justify his actions.

The chief uses the edge of his thumb to swipe the shallow tears brimming in your eyes.

"We can replant all of them my love, even more, now that you are home. "He lets his thumb sweep over your cheek and lips before he draws away.

Still he wears no semblance of remorse. No guilt or shame for what he's done. For the villagers - his people- homes destroyed in the crossfire of his rage. Couldn't care less about the massive amounts of nature he burned to ash in the name of revenge. Their forfeiture was a consequence of your decision to act so selfishly. It was all your fault-

Why should the chief feel apologetic?

"And the villagers?"

Lee leans in to gently place another kiss to your cheek. As though his kisses can ease the pain of his strikes. Something in you wants to believe he is trying to soothe the pain he inflicted on you. The more nihilistic part of you knows you are only searching for the swordsman's affection in Lee 's actions. Actions that only encompass power and control, that force obedience. Lee rests his forehead head against your head so that his lips are centimeters away from your ear.

"I told you, what I would do if you left- I thought you called my bluff, honey …"

Your mouth went dry at the sight. How- You thought- there was no time to waste musing through all the precautions you thought you followed. Not when your husband stood in front of you disproving their effectiveness.

"What is this?" He asked, pointing over to the bed.

There is an empty duffle bag clutched tight in his left hand- your duffle bag. Its contents scattered on the bed sporadically. A couple thousand berry, a map, exactly two changes of clothes, and a log pose. Everything you needed for a seamless departure.

"I- don't know how it- I-" You were too caught off guard to lie, too unprepared to conjure up an excuse on the fly. Instead you stood fumbling like an idiot trying to figure out how Lee could have possibly just stumbled upon your stash.

"What is it?!" The chief shouted, this time throwing the duffle bag so that it landed at your feet. Before you could answer, he was already stalking toward you. Soon his hands were wrapped around your jaw, squeezing your cheeks. You'd wince in pain if the man had allowed you any wiggle room.

"Were you trying to leave me?" he growls.

"No-" you tried to muffle through your clenched jaw. the word only coming out as a strained cry.

He looked unconvinced. That darkness you're too familiar with started to fill his eyes. It made you begin to question what in you was so naïve enough to think you could escape. Lee moves his hand from your cheek to wrap his arm firmly around your waist. His opposite arm wrapped around your shoulders.

"You want to leave me?" He snarled.

Your head shook ‘no’ so vigorously you almost forgot it was a lie. Just trying to appease the chief, to be spared from his wrath. It did not work. Lee was already starting to walk backward , dragging your body along easily despite your protests. This time you were sure.

He was going to kill you.

Lee easily kicked open the French doors leading to the balcony. Your kicking and screaming, posing as no defense against your husband. He drags you, until your torso is pressed against the balcony railing and he is forcing your head over to look at the drop.

"This is your only way out. If you want to leave me tell me now and I'll throw you over myself.... Say it!"

"I don't want to leave. I don't want to leave." The words repeated from your mouth like an incantation. Barely made out through your cries.

It was enough to make the chief release you, letting your limp body fall to the concrete. He stared down at you with a satisfactory smile before bending at the knees. The gentleness in his touch as he swept the hair out your face is always a precursor to his cruel threats.

"I'll burn this whole village to the ground if you try to leave again. Do you understand me?" He snarls. "Slowly, one by one I will burn every region until you return to me. I will force you to watch everyone, everything , burn because you decided to be fucking selfish."

Another kiss is planted to your cheek before the whisper of Lee's voice commands your attention back to him. A shiver of a sigh escaping your lips at the painful memory.

"I can rebuild their homes... would you like that?"

You nod, letting the tears stream your face. You can feel Lee's smirk against your skin when he kisses the streaks. As though he is giving his approval of your reaction, your emotion. The whites of his fingers dig into your waist to hold you close. His grip does not lessen when you start to sob.

This is how he loved you. Broken. Tattered. Hopeless. An ode to his power, to how much he controlled you.

"Okay, Honey, first thing in the morning."

Water trickles down your chin and onto the sink. You had washed your face six times trying to get the feeling of Lee's hands off you. A futile attempt. His touch would be seared onto you forever.

You trace your cheek while staring into the vanity. There's some relief in not seeing a mark. Probably have your hiatus to thank for Lee's sudden mercy on you. At least you won't be subjected to questions. Trying to conjure up on the spot cover ups come morning, as to not incriminate your husband.

A shaky breath leaves your mouth. You would sob if you weren't so convinced you deserved this. The stinging of your face, the burning of your throat, the stabbing feeling in your chest. This must all be just a fraction of what you imposed on Zoro. The guilt in you leaves little room for other emotions, especially self pity.

How dare you believe a life waited for you beyond these cities' walls. Stupid, stupid, stupid- Foolishly thinking you could escape the future both your father and husband have mapped for you.

You curse the two month departure for giving you a glimpse of how good freedom could feel. For bringing the swordsman into your life when he is so undeserving of the burden you pose. For finally giving you hope just to later rub it in your face.

"Lady Misatori." A small voice quips from the other side of the bathroom door. A knock follows to further force your attention.

A housekeeper stands on the other side. She can barely meet your eyes. A piece of notebook paper is folded into a tight square in her fingers , she is extending it out for you to grab. It trembles in her hands, giving way to the anxiety she is failing to hide.

"Thank you." You mutter. The maid looks relieved to hear her question-free dismissal.

When you open up the note you immediately recognize the handwriting. Had seen scribbled recipes written on loose leaf paper, and napkins enough to note it as Sanji's.

'Mosshead wants to talk- garden 10 minutes .'

The woman's trembling is finally put into perspective. Fearful of what her role in sneaking around the chief could mean for her. Briefly you wonder what the cook could've said to convince the woman to do this. Had his charm really been strong enough to get the woman to forgo all her senses? Part of you wishes to relish seeing Sanji's flirting finally meet with intrigue, but the insistent need to lay eyes on Zoro replaces the thought.

It has you stumbling out of the bathroom as quickly as you could. Forever grateful that in all his control Lee had found it fitting to give you a private bathroom.

It is dark, and wet. Leaves crunch and crumble beneath your feet as you walk the maze-like garden. The unpaved path is bordered with mountainous rose bushes that block your view of any direction, but front and back. The red flowers bloom so fruitfully they encroach your space on the pathway. The weather has gotten considerably cooler in the night, forcing you to pull your cardigan tighter around your shoulders. Regretting that the rush had made you grab the first thing with sleeves you saw.

A sigh leaves your lips exhaustedly. Surely the cook was mistaken. There was no sign of the swordsman anywhere. Maybe he had changed his mind about wanting to talk. Decided the risk isn't worth the reward. That you aren't worth the breath-

You hit an intersection on the path, and before you have the opportunity to turn left, there is a tight grasp around your arm. The force pulls you back, nestling you into the bushes behind you as you still. Once you gain your composure and are able to open your eyes, you’re met with the swordsman.

His left hand is wrapped firmly around your right arm, his other rest in the bush beside your head. Zoro has you caged. Trapped with nowhere to run. No place to hide. No escape.

"Husband?" He fumed. "Have you just been fucking around with me?"

"Zoro..." You plead, reaching out to grasp his cheek. He does not let you. Releases his hold on you to take a step back before your fingers land on him. The look on his face seethes of betrayal.

"Answer me!" The pirate barks. You flinch at the tone of his words, your eyes shutting closed. It takes a minute to gather yourself. You have never heard Zoro's voice void of any affection.

You swallow your own tears . Shove down your discomfort to accept accountability for your actions. Even if all you want to do is hold the swordsman once more. Hear his heart thump in his chest. Hear him say he loves you.

"I should have told you. I am so sorry I hurt you Zoro. "

The pirate scoffs, clearly not satisfied with your answer. He is shaking his head in disbelief, eyes burrowing into yours.

"You lied to me. You told me you loved m-"

"I Promise Zoro, I love you. I love you so much. so much." You beseech.

The swordsman seems even more tortured by your testament. His hands find his skull to dig his fingers into his scalp. As if trying to ground himself for only a moment at the reeling thoughts.

"Does he know that? That you love me, that you're mine?"

When you don't answer the frustration builds in the swordsman. He lets out a pained laugh that morphs into more of a choke. His expression is filled with disbelief.

"You're not mine." He speaks as if he is speaking to himself. "You're his."

"That is who you want to spend the rest of your life with? He talks to you like shit- the dirt beneath his shoes and you smile through the whole thing. The man who thinks you're his accessory- That is the man you love?"

Zoro badgers you. Moving his tongue as piercingly swift as you're sure, he can wield his swords.

"I do not love that man." You choke.

"Then why?" The swordsman shouts. His exclamation wakes the small birds that have chosen the garden as their resting place. The sounds of their wings flapping away from the conflict fills the air. "Y/n ... why are you doing this to me?"

There is a frailness to his voice you don't recognize. Something so breakable about the way he utters your name. In the two months you had spent with Zoro you had never seen him show this much emotion.

"Zoro, if I could stay on the beach with you forever... I would. But I can't. I have people who need me-"

"I need you!" He professes, throwing his arms in the air.

The way that Zoro bares his scars to you , when you could not do the same in return physically pains you. You force down the tears that dare to surface at his confession. Who were you to be hurt in a situation you hand crafted? To cry in the presence of a man who held his broken heart in his hands with hopes, you would fix it.

There's an immense sadness in your restraint, how you're able to still your body though every bone in you wants to wrap around him. Reciprocate all the comfort Zoro so willingly gives to you. But this is not the beach-

"I'm so sorry Zoro. I'm so sorry." Your eyes shift to the ground. The tears are so much harder to fight off when you can see the confusion under his saddened expression.

Zoro cups your cheeks in his hands and for a fleeting moment there is no anger. There are only kisses shared under the stars, gasps fallen onto the sand, words of endearment lost to the wind. Love. For a second Zoro stares at you and there is only love.

"I don't want apologizes- " There's a shake in his breath. " I want you to tell me why I have to watch another man touch you. Why he gets to hold you tonight instead of me. Tell me why you keep saying you love me, but you're going home to another man. Tell me the fucking truth!"

Even in his anger you can hear the worry in the pirate's voice. It takes you by surprise. Maybe malice hasn't taken up the space of affection in Zoro's heart after all. Maybe in all his poking and prodding Lee had only brought concern out of the first mate. The sweet sentiment physically aches. You turn your head, breaking free from his grasp.

"Leave Zoro- take your crewmates and go. I'm only going to hurt you if you stay, so please- go."

"... Is he why you need the sun to feel free?"

You're caught off guard by the swordsman's questions. Don't expect to hear your words echoed from his mouth. "Free". You could almost laugh hearing the word now. Freedom? What did you know about freedom? Always a pawn for someone else's will, your own desires to be placed on a shelf and expectantly forgotten. This castle has always been your prison.

"I'll make sure you'd feel the sun everyday. I will drag it out the sky and place it in your hands if it will make you smile. I'll never trap you. I love you. Please- don't leave me." He begs.

Your body is moving on its own again, this time manipulated by the voice of the swordsman. Unsure of what has come over you, you're reaching out for Zoro, pulling him in closer. You know that you shouldn't. Especially not here and not now. But it does not stop you from standing on your tiptoes to press your lips into his.

The intention was for a quick kiss, just one last time to feel Zoro's lips on yours, but it's difficult not to savor the moment. To not search for another life, one where you could be together, in his mouth. The same desperation is displayed in the way Zoro grasps you. Tight. One hand tangled in your hair while the other on your waist. As if he could hold you tight enough to stay. He groans in displeasure why you finally pull away from him.

"Go Zoro. I'm only going to break you."

The sun has risen just enough to illuminate the desolate field. The early morning is still shying away from pushing out the darkness of night completely. You woke early enough to see Lee still had not returned home. Off doing something you are sure, is none of your business.

You took the opportunity to sneak out to what used to be the lemon grove. Tears stream your face while you wonder what pushed you out here. What exactly it is that you're hoping to find amongst the ash.

The memories of your mother you can't get back? Pieces of the wooden swing you used to sit on in the summer? Evidence it was truly necessary to leave the swordsman in your past?

It's hard to focus on all you've lost when staring at the pile of rubble that is the villagers' homes. Their whole lives destroyed at a whim. You did this to them. Had you stayed home and behaved no one, not even the swordsman, would be in this situation.

"Wanna tell me what you're looking for?"

The whisper behind you sounds so familiar. There is a part of you that does not want to turn around, thinks it's better off not knowing who the voice belongs to. A bigger part of you itches with a need to know.

"Zoro."

"Maybe I can help you find it." There's a crooked smirk on his lips.

It's involuntary, the way your heart is instantly soothed at his arrival. Something it must have learned on its own while on the beach. You have to fight not to jump into his arms. Draw him into you with the wish to feel his lips again.

" I thought I told you to leave..." you mutter.

"You did." The pirate agrees. Zoro moves from behind you, so you no longer have to crane your neck to look at him. He reaches to take your hand in his. His thumb traces the back of your hand, his touch so soft you almost don't feel it.

"You're still here."

"You may have authority in this village, but the only person I take orders from is Luffy." He lets out a laugh.

The sound forces your brows to furrow to the center of your face. Where was his anger? His disappointment? Why wasn't he yelling at you? The last conversation you had with the swordsman had not gone the best. This warm welcome is the farthest reception you expected to receive.

"What?" He asks, reaching out to smooth the wrinkles your frown causes. You're surprised at the way you flinch when his fingertips touch your forehead, a reaction you hadn't had in at least a month.

Had it really only taken one night with Lee to erase all your expectations of being lovingly touched?

You can see Zoro's happy exterior waiver for just a moment at your knee jerk reaction. Still he does not draw away his fingers. Just trails them down so he can stroke your cheek. Still offering you a kind smile.

"Stop Zo..." You're taking a step away before you can give into him. Pulling your hand away to further the distance. "What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to see the lemon grove..." He uses the tip of his boot to kick at a burned shingle on the ground. "So much for that."

"Oh? You made it here all on your own?" In spite of your sorrows you laugh. "You didn't get lost?"

Zoro glares at you, his eyebrows raised to his temples. You suspect he hadn't expected you to join in on his light heartedness.

"I had to ask someone in the town square..." He sheepishly admits drawing an even more obnoxious laugh for your throat.

"Why were you looking for the lemon grove?"

"You don't remember?" He asks.

Even in your best memories of the beach, you never liked sand. The way it intrusively stuck to you, creeping its way into every nook and cranny made your skin crawl, but this beach was the expectation. You loved everything about this beach.

"Tell me something else." Zoro requests. His voice was softer than before- meeker after your supposed rejection.

You were still wrapped firmly in the swordsman arms, your head on his chest. Zoro's head had returned to rest on top of yours. A brisk breeze forced you closer to Zoro in search of warmth, the thin blanket almost whisked away at the gust. The sight drew a laugh from the pirate.

"Where would you be right now if you were home?"

The only location you could definitely think of was underneath the chief's thumb, but that surely couldn't be the answer the swordsman was looking for. It was hard to think of places in your village that still brought you joy. Places that hadn't been corrupted in the transition of power from your father to Lee.

"The lemon grove." You blurted out the second it came to you. There was a cheesy grin on your face while you reminisced. A grin that is met with a full blown smile from Zoro once he sees your joy. He leaned down to plant a kiss to your cheek, then your jaw.

"Yeah? Why is that your favorite place?" His breath brushed against your neck.

"My mom used to take me there, and we would have picnics in the summer. There's this huge swing we'd sit on. It's my favorite place in the whole world."

"All that you've seen of it?" Zoro jokes. He caught your wrist when you went to slap his chest. Bringing your hands to his lips to kiss your knuckles. He rubbed his finger back and forth over yours after planting one last kiss to your cheek.

"Maybe you can show it to me? When we get you home?"

Lee had never in the six months you'd been married bothered to visit the lemon grove. Just knew it was a sacred space for you , a memento to your mother. This was the first time you're grateful for that. That in the chief's vast kingdom there could still be a place that could be just Zoro and yours.

"I would love that Zo."

You smiled before craning your neck to plant a kiss on his lips.

"I wanted to see your favorite place." Zoro admits once he sees you remember. "I thought it might give me some insight."

"Insight?" You parrot in confusion.

"You're hiding something from me." Zoro states plainly, drawing your eyes to him.

"You found out I'm married, what else can I be hiding Zoro?" Your voice trembles with exhaustion.

The swordsman narrows his eyes as he looks you over. That fury, and fire previously seen in the garden is long gone . All that remains is this inquisitive stare.

"I don't know, but you are... I wish you would let me help you."

"Help me-" There is a feigned smile painted on your lips. How could a pirate of the new world be so... heartening. Surely the horrors he has seen, far exceed the small misfortunes of your life.

"Zoro. I already told you to go. "

"If you looked at me and told me you didn't mean any of it I would've left. Sailed away and tried for the rest of my life never to think of you again, but you didn't. You told me you love me-"

"I do."

Zoro plops down onto the ash filled ground. He crosses his arms against his chest, and stares out at the rubble.

"Then I'm not leaving. Until you tell me what's going on, what's actually happening, I'm not going anywhere."

The way your heart swells at his proclamation is treacherous. Allowing yourself to be swooned by actions that could very well get the both of you executed. You almost think it's sweet, if it wasn't so stupid.

"Why do you care? Zoro I hurt you, why are you still chasing me?"

"... because I meant it when I said I love you. And I know you meant it too."

"You deserve someone better than me Zoro. Someone who won't hold you back, someone who won't hurt you, someone worthy of standing next to the world's strongest swordsman."

"I don't care what you think I deserve. That's not a decision for you to make." Zoro snaps.

"Zoro... " You sigh exasperatedly at his rebuttal. "Do you really think I won't hold you back? That you will still become the world's strongest swordsman if I'm standing next to you?"

"I don't think I will become the world's strongest swordsman if you aren't standing next to me."

There's a sharp breath forced into your lungs at his confession. How could he say that with such certainty. It has only been two months. The two of you should be able to forget each other. Move on as if none of this happened- but Zoro stands before you stating he doesn't know if his dream will come true without you. A dream he has been chasing his entire life. A dream you've only come privy to in the last 60 days.

"Tell me you don't love me- I'll go. If you look me in my eyes right now and say it, I'll leave." He challenges.

You search for the words on your tongue, though you cannot find them. No parts of you willing, or wanting to lie to the swordsman.

"I can't."

Zoro has kept his promise. The strawhat crew joining you and your husband for breakfast, lunch, and now dinner going on the third day in a row. You wonder what the pirate is waiting for? A confession? An outcry for help? Don't know what actions would be satisfactory enough to get him to sail away.

In all of those days Zoro has sat in that same seat, to the right of you at every meal. Some meals he would lightly brush his knees back and forth against yours. At others he would 'accidentally' knock his napkin off the table so he could pinch your thighs. In spite of your best efforts to forget the swordsman exists, he seems all too insistent on making his presence known.

"So Luffy, when do you think you and your crew will be leaving?" Lee asks. His voice does well to mask the irritation you can pin in the twitch of his eye. "We'd love to send you all off with a ball."

You suspect Lee's urging of the Strawhats' departure correlates to his growing suspicion of the swordsman. The chief may be many things, but naïve has never been one of them. He takes note of the way Zoro's eye never leaves you, regardless of whoever is speaking. How the swordsman just couldn't be bothered to feign interest whenever the chief commands the room. You had spent every one of these past nights disavowing your feelings for the swordsman.

"We're thinking soon- Wednesday at the latest." Nami answers before her captain has the opportunity to. He seems to wear a confused look that is soon dissipated by her scowl.

Two days.

Although you had trained yourself not to go looking for the swordsman, your eyes immediately fall onto him at the navigator's words. Your concern is met with raised bows, almost a silent challenge from the pirate.

Did he expect you to profess your love there at the dinner table? To look at your husband and gloat in the love you've been able to find? Neither are options being the choice was not yours. Lee has done a great job in ensuring you did not have any choices.

"Oh, I'll get the staff on preparations immediately. We will hold the ball tomorrow." Lee's smile is filled with pleasure.

His wife had returned home, and soon the guests he had been performing for would be on their way. Everything is on the road to being back to normal. Exactly how you remembered it. The thought sends a shiver down your body.

"Maybe y/n can take us to the shop to find a dress?" Robin suggests.

Lee is apprehensive about letting you go. Obvious from the way his smile falters at the archeologists suggestion. But he never could deny a pretty woman. Begrudgingly he agrees.

Part III

************************************************************************

A/N: Part three is in the works , I'm hoping to not go more than a week between chapters, but please don't hold me to that. The ADHD will make me a liar. Thank you to all the beautiful people who care about my work, and have so many kind words.

Tag List: @turtletaubwrites @jinjen @sanzu-clinic @heyauntieeee @honeybuzzzzzz @nothing-but-brass

#one piece #zoro roronoa #ronoroa zoro #zoro x reader #zoro x y/n #zoro x you #zoro roronoa x y/n #roronoa zoro x reader #forgive me if i break you

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cinnamonest · 1 month

Text

Also on note of that “bone breaking” post I believe Xiao is an absolute menace to the innkeepers because of his inability to gauge human sickness and injury. He's thoroughly convinced any slight discomfort you experience is a near-death situation.

Human life is incredibly fragile. Their bodies are nearly unbelievably susceptible to death from even very mild injuries and sicknesses, they die so easily it's frightening. Which is why he has to be very vigilant with you.

You once got a bit nauseous from eating something a bit past expiry date — you insist it's just food poisoning over and over, but he practically drags you to a pharmacist anyway “just in case,” because there are many deadly pathogens and parasites humans can die from that begin this way, and you will drop dead before you even know something is wrong.

If you have a headache, it's probably an oncoming aneurysm that will cause sudden death. You may think you have a mere common cold, but he is well aware that many very dangerous and severe illnesses begin as symptoms of common colds, some of which progress so rapidly you may not have time to notice before sudden death.

You try to explain your throat hurts because what you ate is giving you heartburn, but if it has the word heart, which is a very vital organ, that can only mean you are at great risk of, you guessed it, sudden death.

More than once now you've been sleeping a little too deeply — your breaths are so slow that it looks like you're barely breathing at all, so he has to shake you awake to ensure you are still alive. Any cough or sneeze is met with this head-jerk in your direction and yellow eyes wide open staring in panic, and you have to swear up and down you just got swallowed the wrong way or inhaled some dust.

Not even period pains are safe — it's normal, so you insist, you can't hide your discomfort so you're all but begging him not to worry about it, but this one time he remembers about seven hundred years ago he once heard a villager mention a woman who had internal bleeding mistaken for just that and died, so it must be seen professionally (yes, each month). The whole concept bothers him — you're bleeding and in pain, those things are bad, how can you be sure it's the normal amount of bleeding and pain and not too much, that you're not actually five minutes away from dropping dead? That's right, you can't know, which is why you have to let him carry you to the harbor for the third time this week.

Injury is even worse — yes, he's aware that human flesh bruises easily, but this bruise is on your ribcage, and you don't recall how it got there, there are organs underneath there and you could very well be internally bleeding out.

Both innkeepers are, at this point, used to him coming bounding into the main lobby in full-fledged panic, demanding to hand over the emergency medical kit kept by the front desk so he can save you from bleeding out (you accidentally cut your finger on a splinter on the baseboard), and they no longer bat an eye or ask where you're going when he comes barging through carrying you (protesting, at that) out the door without a word before vanishing in the direction of the nearest village with a doctor… even when you try to get their help to please tell him I'm fine, they just ignore you at this point, knowing it's futile.

There's a death at the inn once — you try to be reasonable and explain that it was a very elderly and sickly man who most certainly died of natural causes, but see, you don't know for sure that he didn't have some kind of rare rapid-onset deadly illness that can spread from the bottom floor all the way up to where your room is, so it is imperative that you be disinfected professionally.

He annoys the doctors too — they're all used to it at this point too, but many of them are aware of him, and none of the humans really want to oppose or risk upsetting one of these beings they have a degree of reverence for, so much to your dismay, all of them continue to treat his concerns as legitimate, even though it's very blatantly clear to you that they're faking taking it seriously.

On the bright side, having some pity on your suffering perhaps (or being tired of dealing with the same thing over and over), the harbor pharmacist managed to convince him that an over-the-counter mild painkiller was a miracle cure for a wide variety of ailments, so unless you feel that you need more, he says, then that should be enough… which cuts down on the frequency of your unnecessary emergency care visits, but only somewhat.

At this point, surely at least one of the concerns has been legitimate, he has definitely saved your life more than once by now. And yet, you have not thanked him for this, you continue to be so naive to your own fragility and do nothing but complain about it when you literally owe him your life. Unbelievable.

But rest assured, your ungratefulness will not deter him from continuing to take the utmost care of you, he'll continue to save you, regardless of how unappreciated these life-saving efforts are.

#i'll put this out from drafts in the meantime since i got behind on posting the last week or so #.x

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theabysss · 10 months

Text

Dance

pairing: sagau!Arlecchino x Reader

summary: The performance is over, the hall is empty and only the two of you are dancing on the stage.

warnings/tags: gn!Reader, religious + cult themes, possessive & obsessive thoughts, yandere.

word count: 1k.~

note: This lovely lady knocked down my entire fic-writing schedule and shamelessly got into the queue, but I forgive her. After all, she is my wife.

The performance ended and the sound of loud applause still hung in the air. The audience had already left, the actors had gone to their dressing rooms, and the hall was completely empty, except for the two of you.

Arlecchino followed you as a shadow as you descended from your loggia and ascended to the stage. You looked around the hall with interest and turned your gaze to her. She managed to keep her outer composure under your scanning gaze, but inside her, anxiety began to slowly rise. Is there something wrong with her looks? Before she had time to get completely flustered, you walked up to her and smiled as you held out your hand to her.

"Dance?"

Her heart skips a beat and she peers into your face in amazement, her mouth slightly parted and she tries to say at least something, but the words freeze on her lips. You looked at her so tenderly, waiting for her answer, Arlecchino swallowed hard, your kindness was often sung in songs, but the encounter with this, amazed, shocked, stole all the air from her lungs.

You did her such an honor with your invitation, here on the stage you stood patiently waiting for her answer, as if you thought that she could refuse you. She would never do that, Arlecchino never refused the gifts of fate.

You were too kind a god, graciously distributing your grace to everyone, even those who did not really deserve it. Arlecchino clenched her hand into a fist, digging her nails into her palm, these disgusting miserable creatures, none of them had the right to bask in the rays of your strength, enjoy your attention. To tear them apart, mutilate them so that the thought of meeting with you would not dare to come to mind.

She shook her head to drive away bad thoughts and finally carefully put her hand in yours, as if afraid that it would melts like dew in the morning.

When you pull her to you, goosebumps go down the back of Arlecchino, you were so close and it clouded her mind better than any wine or fire water from Snezhnay.

You were the Creator of Teyvat, the God she prayed to as a little girl, standing in the cold with numb fingers that she didn't feel at all then. A weak child who spent hours in front of your statue on the street in the small village where she lived. Then it seemed to her that a wild cold settled right in her bones, but Arlecchino did not stop, whispering the words of prayer with her blue, cracked lips.

Your hand on her lower back, burning heat penetrated through the layers of clothing and seemed to reach the heart in a warm wave. Arlecchino put her hand on your shoulder and licked her dry lips. As you gently intertwined your fingers, she bit her bottom lip with force almost to the point of blood.

As a child, she could not even dream of the opportunity to see you live, to stand so close that she could feel your breath on her face. She tries to snuggle even closer to you and draws in the air next to your skin, enjoying your natural scent. Bliss.

You start dancing and Arlecchino obediently moves with you in the same rhythm, adjusting to your pace. Another step, turn, the hem of her tailcoat develops behind her, following the movements. The sound of Arlecchino's heels echoes through the empty hall. Her body was filled with a weightlessness that she had not felt before, as if she had wings growing behind her back. Next to you it has always been like this, life is usually gray and tasteless filled with colors.

She keeps her eyes on you, absorbing every change of emotion on your face. Greedily, inextricably as your faithful follower shouldn't have done, but she just couldn't stop. Closer, get even closer to you, until she becomes the one you trust the most, get rid of all the annoying insects spinning around you. So that your warmth, your tenderness, belong only to her.

Music begins to play softly, gradually becoming louder, sounding from all sides.

"I think it will be better with music."

A playful smile appears on your face and Arlecchino wants to kiss it. Right now, press her lips to yours, steal your breath and never breathe out again, keeping a part of you in yourself.

Seconds pass adding up into minutes, the time of your closeness that Arlecchino burns into her memory, stores like gems in a cache. The awkward movement leading up to a brief contact of yours thighs sends shivers up her back and leaves her legs weak.

Your shadows under the harsh spotlight look inseparable, merged so strongly and completely that they are unable to part.

The last chords that put a bitter taste in Arlecchino's mouth and mark the end of her happiness. The footsteps slow down and you freeze under the ensuing deafening silence. Arlecchino's back arched, supported only by your hand, your faces so close to each other that she could count your eyelashes. The smallest distance between your lips beckoned to reduce it, to succumb to passion, to let go of control.

You close your eyes and gently touch your lips to hers. Cautiously, as if Arlecchino were an expensive crystal that threatened to break from any careless movement, tremulously like the touch of a butterfly's wings. Arlecchino deepens the kiss, her hand moving to the back of your head. You were like spring water, your taste was sweet and refreshing, only making her want more. No matter how much she try, there will always be little, a thirst that could not be quenched.

Arlecchino wasn't about to let you go, not after she got so close. She will convince you that she is the best, that she is more worthy than any of your followers, be they archons or ordinary owners of vision. Anything for you, just be close to her, save all your smiles and tenderness only for her. All you are only for her.

Reblogs, comments, are always greatly appreciated! ヽ(o^ ^o)ﾉ

#I want to sing the praises of Arlecchino #She stole my heart #(❤ω❤)#theabysss writes #genshin impact sagau #genshin sagau #genshin impact sagau x reader #sagau #genshin x reader #sagau x reader #sagau cult au #yandere arlecchino #sagau arlecchino x reader #sagau arlecchino

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pinknipszz · 3 months

Text

adagio for strings 2/4

↷ ˊ- true form!ryomen sukuna x f!reader

< previous | next >

"i'm not a crook!"

' - wc: 3.7k

you look more yūrei than human with how you stagger down the winding path, your breaths short and quick and shaky. the moon looks at you like how a mother would when her child is up to no good. she hides behind thick clouds to obscure her light in an effort to keep you from reigning carnage, but you move. to hell with the moon, you think, squinting your eyes to make out the dark shapes ahead. i don’t need a mother to guide me, much less the fucking moon.

you drag your feet across sharp stones hardly wincing, like a crippled animal on broken legs. the weight of your weapon is the only friend you have left, and you swallow the noise that crawls up your throat. you don’t know what it might’ve been. maybe a scream or even a sob, but it doesn’t matter now that the village is close. your eyes adjust to the darkness and you recognize the water well, the stone steps, the statues of yokai that are supposed to protect from natural disasters. you nearly bark a laugh at the irony.

is this what it takes to become a ghost story? you soak in the silence as you limp. in a hundred years or so, you think that farmers will warn their children about playing outside after dark, lest they want to be stolen by a pauper turned vengeful by those who damned her. it feeds your delirium and takes your mind off the ashes. this is only fair. an eye for an eye. considering the years of verbal and physical torment, you find this generous. mosquitoes swarm your space when you stumble over the steps of the first house.

it’s a humble thing, nothing impressive about it, belonging to either a cowherd or a farmer, but there are no sandals or scattered tools on the porch to confirm. after a quick assessment of the surroundings, you slip through a crack between the sliding doors. this’ll work, i’ll make it work. the inside is just as bland upon entering. you scoff, disappointed. there are no pots or paintings or portraits to take, no trophies to collect, but you find grass cushions around a low table for eating. tell-tale signs of life. they encourage you to move.

it doesn’t take much time to find a room, the only room, at the end of the sandalwood hall. you press your ear against the door, heart hammering in your chest, and wait for a few seconds. it remains silent. you pull back to stand face-to-face with the thin paper. a serpentine tongue flits across cracked lips. you don’t know what you’ll see inside. maybe a man and his wife, perhaps a family, sleeping soundly in proper, padded mattresses. they are probably dreaming about silly things, like conquering demons with sharp teeth or becoming the next shogun.

hot jealousy swirls in the pit of your gut. it bends and snaps unnaturally, dragging its claws along the walls to tear apart your innards. dreaming of silly things is such a fucking privilege. you are more than happy to rip it from them.

but your hand never touches the wooden frame, held back by a ubiquitous force. cicadas whine for you. you blink with a bit of clarity and, for the first time in a while, think twice. your anger comes down to a slow simmer, diluted by a cold wave of realization. you don’t know what you’ll see inside. it repeats like a mantra in your head. you are thin and weak and don’t know how to fight. the words don’t feel like yours, but you listen. a man might draw his sword and strike you down. a woman might scream her head off. what then? the hand around your hatchet loosens its grip.

it repeats, you don’t know what you’ll see inside.

your jaw is tight when you turn away, refusing to waste your chance on a bunch of strangers, before leaving as quietly as you came. realistically, you aren’t capable of fighting more than one person at a time. adrenaline has a timer that you don’t want to test. plus, there are people more deserving of death, like the kamo women. you consider it but decide that they’re not worth the effort. their esteemed estate sits at the top of the hill, and you’ll likely succumb to exhaustion before reaching it. the female seller is also out of the question; you don’t even know where she lives.

your best bet at revenge is the butcher, knowing that his house is tucked behind some trees down the street. you hesitate a little though. he is strong and powerful with burly arms that can snap brittle necks like yours, surely from experience. he is a challenge far greater than climbing a thousand steps for two women who know nothing about fighting. at least then, the playing field is even. but you remember how scared he was, and how his cowardice ran so deep that he had cried to a clan to get rid of you instead of doing it himself.

dried leaves crunch where you step. a grasshopper jumps away disturbed. that is one thing you hold over his head, it seems, one thing that makes you stronger than a man of muscle.

the walk is short. you reach it in just under five minutes minus the limping. you know that he earns more money than a cowherd and a farmer combined, if the size of his house is anything to go by. he must also be smarter because the door doesn’t budge when you try to slide it open, almost as if he anticipated your imminent arrival. but death doesn’t come knocking politely, and neither should you. you remember how you joked about squeezing through a hole in the back wall, rumored to have been from a strike meant for his prostitute wife. you’ll use it tonight to deliver the punchline.

you round the house and find the secret entrance. it’s boarded so poorly, almost as if he had just filled it with a couple of large rocks from the river and called it a day without bothering to take extra precautions. it takes the same amount of effort to pull them down with sanguine-wrought claws. luckily, the hole is large enough for a person to slip through, and you silently thank his wife, keeping your hatchet close. you hope she’s doing well wherever she is. you haven’t seen her at the market since the rumors have stopped, but you’re not overly concerned. she wasn’t kind to you either.

immediately you notice the air is different inside, almost stagnant. it’s colder too. hairs behind your neck stand on end, but you don’t let it deter you.

you explore the home with light steps. every once in a while, tatami floors creak underneath your feet. you freeze when they do and wait for frantic movements, but there’s none. you take a moment to calm yourself before continuing. in the kitchen, you find the butcher’s most prized possession: his cleaver. it rests on the wooden table abandoned by its owner. you approach to trace the metal. it’s cool to the touch and still sharp despite all of the flesh that it has cut through. this must have cost a fortune, you think. metals are hard to come by.

it would be a valuable thing to have by your side. it’d scare both people and animals more than a rusty hatchet with a weather-stained handle, and you’d never have to live in fear until the day it also deteriorates, but you don’t think that will happen for a long, long time. it’ll serve a message to the rest of them too. you’ll get to spend your final days eating peaches and melons offered out of fear, before being taken by the shogun’s army for a necessary execution. your fingers tingle. i’ll teach myself how to use you, and you reach for the foul weapon.

but your spine straightens at the sound of shuffling from somewhere deep in the house. it’s faint. horribly so, but you hear it. blood rushes to your head. you turn around half-expecting to see something behind you, but the space is empty. the shuffling continues, only this time a little louder, coming from the eastern hall with a single bedroom at the end. the butcher, you breathe shakily, forgetting the cleaver. it must be the butcher. he’s awake. you are tempted to run out of the house, tail tucked between your legs, but you swallow your fear. this bastard is the reason you’re sleeping without a roof tonight.

you exit the kitchen and walk towards the room, your weapon ready. the shuffling grows louder, more frantic. you focus your energy on standing upright, eyes burning from the effort to make out the darkness of the hallway. your hand glides along the wall for guidance, dust collecting at your fingertips. you only stop when you feel the familiar wooden frame of a door. when you hesitate for the nth time, the cold air curls around you with its tendrils, urging you forward. it whispers incoherent things. unable to resist temptation, you slide it open with one swift movement.

you think you’re ready for the butcher. you expect to find him twisting back and forth on his futon, or practicing his secret swordsmanship with ungraceful feet, or maybe even pacing the room like all men do. you’ve already thought of a million ways to catch him off-guard, and one of them might have worked if it'd actually been the butcher in the room, but nothing could have prepared you for this. there’s a large mass that’s darker than darkness, hunched in the far left corner, morphing between shapes as if it can’t decide between looking human or plant or animal.

you refuse to take your eyes off of it, like a sick audience for a sick show. the creature contorts unnaturally, bending this way and that before groaning a loud, horrible sound. it bounces off the walls in powerful waves that strain your ears. hissing, you don’t think twice before stepping back, but it’s already too late when tatami floors creak under your feet. immediately it silences, changing form in a blink. it is thinner and taller, closer to a corpse than anything, with features still indistinguishable in the dark. your mouth goes dry.

“what the hell—” it lunges forward. you fail to dodge.

the force of the fall rattles your bones, pushing out the air in your lungs. there is a resounding thud from where your hatchet falls. you aren’t given a chance to recover before it digs its long, black nails into your shoulders, drawing liquid copper, and claws at your flesh. the air is metallic on your tongue when you screech in pain. the creature shakes in turn, mimicking a laugh, and pushes against the lower half of your body to render it useless. you’ve only ever felt like this once in your life, when you had sleep paralysis as a child. the old sensation is ingrained in your memory, and it resurfaces only now.

a coil snaps in your chest. “get off me!” you scream, thrashing violently. your hands curl into fists that jab at its sides. the creature doesn’t take a definite shape. you might as well be hitting air, but your efforts aren’t entirely futile. it recoils just enough for you to twist to your side and frantically search for your hatchet. when you see it in the far end of the hall, just a few arms-length away, you scramble towards it in desperation. but the creature is relentless. it grabs your ankle and pulls hard, dragging you further into the dark. no. no no no. you fight the paralysis that threatens to consume you, and with one final burst of strength, you kick.

you aren’t exactly sure why the creature lets go, wailing as if it came into contact with hot coal, but you don’t have time to ogle at how it presses itself against the wall in fear. you push yourself back on your feet and wobble quickly towards your weapon. when it’s back in your possession, you hold it tight until your knuckles turn stark white. this time you have no intentions of dropping it. your lungs burn when you breathe, and you’re sure you injured something, but you don’t dwell on it for too long. adrenaline has a timer.

you bare your teeth when the creature approaches. you’re ready to raise the hatchet. you remember the laws of nature when it lunges again, and you dodge. the strongest survive and forget the weak, who are branded for death the second they leave the womb. it runs through your veins like forbidden ichor. those gnarled hands shoot forward with inhuman speed, intent to kill, but you move just in time. you need to be the strongest in the room to win. the creature’s strikes wildly, its steps unpredictable. you cough blood at a particularly hard hit to your side. you need to be the strongest.

the creature falls forwards when you slash its legs. taking advantage of its vulnerable position, you rush forward and watch as it scrambles for footing, before you pull the hatchet up high. it looks at you then. though it lacks a proper face you think that it’s trying to mimic human emotion. you don’t know what it wants to evoke within you, but you hope it knows that it’s useless when you look back without a hint of remorse. the hatchet hits the juncture between its neck and shoulders, digs deep into black, warping mass, and comes off clean from the other side.

you watch it dissipate into nothing as if it was never there. the silence is nearly deafening. i did it. i killed it. your feet move before you could process what just happened, or what you just killed. the world blurs around you. when you pass the kitchen and catch a glimpse of the cleaver, you remember the butcher. he feels like a distant memory. you doubt he’s even alive anymore if the creature had been here the entire time. when you step out, the cool air hugs you tight. it’s still dark. you wonder if any time has passed at all.

when you reach the bottom step, you collapse forward and get a mouthful of dirt. adrenaline leaves your system before you get a chance to say goodbye, replaced instead with bone-deep exhaustion. your body remains glued to the ground as it succumbs to the exertion, fading in and out of consciousness. you dropped your hatchet again, you realize through the haze. you summon enough strength to prod at the space beside you. you swipe left and right, up and down. nothing. your vision blurs with unshed tears.

the pain is unbearable, gripping you like a vice and unwilling to go. even breathing is a difficulty on its own, with each inhale accompanied by a sharp pain in your chest. you know the injury is lethal. you wonder who will find your body first in the morning. maybe a child or a seller. you wonder if they’ll celebrate your death with sake or fresh meat before dumping your body into the river. maybe they won’t want to waste anything at all, so they’ll leave you here to rot and go about their day. before you could enjoy your pity party, a gruff voice cuts through the silence. “pathetic. that thing was hardly a curse.”

you blink, startled. a few tears fall and mix with the dirt. you don’t dare to look.

“what happened to that spirit of yours? don’t tell me you’ve given up. get up.” it’s harsher now, like the sound of sharpening two swords.

what else is there to lose?. you force two arms under you, shakily planting your hands to push your upper body off the ground. you find a pair of feet, attached to two strong legs, a solid waist and—

your eyes widen in horror, and for the first time in your life you see a real monster. he possesses four— four— arms, two of which hold weapons you do not recognize, a second pair crossed over his chest. all four of his eyes watching you with disgusting amusement. he reeks of arrogance and condescension, etched in the grooves of his hideous face and the criminal tattoos worn with pride. you don’t know what kind of expression you’re wearing, but he laughs at it so loudly that you wonder how no one has woken up yet.

no, not again. your breaths turn rapid, eyes full blown and wild. i can’t do this again. this guy is different from the one in the house. i can’t— you could only imagine what he sees. a woman with sunken cheeks and torn skin, dressed in dirt and bloodied, battered garbs, lying on the brink of death. you come to think that he’s here to finish you off. at least one of you is enjoying themselves. “there you go,” he purrs, smiling sharp with pointed teeth stained red. “you nearly had me worried. it’d be a shame if you died already.”

you want to scream with what little voice you have left, but it only comes out in short, pained grunts. the monster notices this. carelessly, he throws his weapons behind him to crouch in front of you. he abandons them so easily that you wonder how he thinks of himself so highly that he can fight without them. he’s still massive from this angle, and your neck hurts from the effort to crane up at him. he props a now-free hand on his knee and rests his chin on its palm. “sounds painful,” he drawls, dripping with feigned concern. “need some help?” you simply stare.

“did you forget how to speak?” you think for a moment before shaking your head. “then speak.”

“i c-can’t,” you nearly punch the words out of you.

a heavy sigh blows over you as he massages the bridge of his nose, grumbling something under his breath. the situation is almost comical. you can’t discern between his anger and disappointment. they blend so well together that you think he only feels both simultaneously, one unable to exist without the other. you aren’t surprised if that’s the case. everything about the monster came in pairs. two arms, two faces. of course he’d feel double the hatred over you. you just don’t understand why he hasn’t killed you yet. a creature like him doesn’t look like he’s capable of patience.

“you know,” his eyes narrow to thin slits. “you cause a lot of trouble in these parts. you’re like a fucking spawner, creating a bunch of pitiful curses.” so he’s not going to help you. the monster leans in to grab your face with one hand, squeezing your cheeks tight until your lips pucker. it feels like he’s trying to shatter your jaw with how much pressure he uses. “bet you don’t even know what curses are.” you don’t, but the word is familiar. you think that he catches the glint of recognition in your eyes, because his smile turns devilish.

“it’s a shame that you’re ugly,” he continues, humming to himself as he turns your head left and right. “you barely got any fat on you. you’re giving me close to nothing to work with.” fear shoots down your spine at his words, suddenly realizing the full extent of your vulnerable position. you think he notices that too because he simply chuckles and offers no clarification. his large hand crawls up the side of your face before tangling itself into your matted hair. he pulls back harshly and you wince.

“tell you what. i’ll give you food, water, and a bed if you make a deal with me.” his promise is vile. he takes advantage of your silence knowing full well that you’re unable to ask for its conditions.

but still, you weigh your options. there is nothing left for you here in this small village. no family or friends to remember, no home to turn to. you were never liked by the residents either, and you doubt you ever will be no matter what you do. plus, people will think that you have something to do with the butcher’s disappearance. although you were supposed to, you’d still be falsely accused for a kill that wasn’t yours, which you still think is highly unfair. you’d be doing everyone a favor if you disappear anyways.

so you look at him with the last bits of your bravery and nod. he grins fiercely, pleased with your decision.

“uraume,” he says. your eyes widen when a familiar figure materializes from nothing. the monk-child, who you saw at the market, the one that gave you your first pomelo. when they stand side-by-side over your collapsed form, something in your mind clicks. this four-armed freak is what leaves the village so restless. when sellers and ladies aren’t complaining about you, they talk about him. the “cursed object.” you still don’t know what that means. uraume’s expression is just as unreadable when they study you for the nth time.

“prepare a room at the temple, and cook twice as much for dinner,” he orders, his eyes raking over you. his companion, who you’re starting to believe is his servant, bows their head and mutters a humble “yes sir” before dissolving into air. you gape, eyes are fixated on where they stood. the monster merely chuckles at your ignorance. his grip on your hair loosens, and he pushes your head back into the dirt, surely leaving a mold of your face for the sellers to marvel over the next morning.

you don’t know about the other hands hovering over your back, expelling enough energy to seep through your robes, past your flesh, and into your bones. “you don’t understand now, but you will soon,” his voice is hypnotizing, bleeding through the static in your ears. you feel your ribs click back into place, and you taste earth when you gasp. “i’ll make you an expert in curses.”

exhaustion finally pulls you into its arms. it is your last embrace for a long, long time.

(masterlist) | listen to adagio for strings!

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen sukuna #sukuna ryomen x reader #jjk sukuna #sukuna ryomen x you #heian period #true form sukuna #uraume #jjk x reader #jjk #sukuna #ryomen sukuna #jjk imagines #sukuna imagine

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s1ater · 2 years

Text

nightmares in an empty house.

pairings. finnick odair x fem!reader

summary. after winning the games, you feel yourself going insane in victors village till a certain someone helps you cope

warnings. swearing, sexual themes

ricky rocks. this idea has been in my head for along time and i didn’t really do any of it justice 😕😭

the room smelt of bleach and cinnamon.

your hair was tied in a knot as you scoped out the entree way, dropping your luggage and belongings to the floor with the fall of your shoulders that were still tense and full of pressure in silent agony.

scoping, a lie. you hadn’t paid enough attention to consider your wandering eyes scoping. you were only trying your best to swallow whole of the situation you were presented in.. but it was like trying to swallow a whole jar of peanut butter at once; rather difficult.

you sighed, laying the palm of your cold, clammy hand upon your hot sweaty forehead, squinting at the rather bright kitchen, concealed by the dark entry way. with no lights on and no windows (aside from the small ones built into the door) you were left to the dark, allowing it to swallow you whole. and you allowed it, finally facing the fact and becoming content that you were finally and utterly alone.

you hadn’t been fully aware of it until now.

before, you used to be fully present within the close gathered district four, active and full of energy as you worked your ass off to make ends meet in order to stay afloat. you had made friends, acquaintances, and kissed more than you could count and only for it all to go down the drain.

you were secluded now. kept away from your old but happy nature, leaving you for the new one to take over without your own control. your new nature. that’s what it was. capitol parties, other victors, new acquaintances but never any friends because you could no longer see yourself get close with anyone. dresses, nice clothes, good food, riches, everything one could dream of was now open for grabs, all just for you. but you wanted none of it.

you traveled away from your luggage and out into the kitchen where you were hit with a flood of natural light seeping in through a wall of large windows all next to each other and giving you a view to your backyard of blue.

you swallowed thickly out of overwhelm before you heard the rather obvious sound of your front door opening. the cue coming from the rust old hinges that made you jump quickly, reaching for the knife you had tucked in the back pocket of your jeans.

you were frightful, that being the reason you had raised your knife so quickly to the person who entered into your kitchen without invitation, but the light soon revealed the face of finnick who was quick to throw his hands up in surrender once upon realization you had a dagger pointed in his direction.

“woah there, cowgirl,” you sighed, slightly rolling your eyes before dropping the blade down with the relaxation of your shoulders, cursing under your breath to his slight smile, “I see you’re settling in well.”

you scoffed, smiling in despair as you laid your hand on your forehead, just wanting to pass on right there. he could feel it; your hurt and your pain. it was something he was familiar with. so, so familiar that his own past distress begun to resonate within his chest. he hated it.

“i just wanted to leave this for you,” he coughed, trying to drag away from the awful silence that had consumed the two of you faster than he would have liked. he shifted on his feet, leaning toward the small island that was placed in the middle of your kitchen; setting down a white lily. “a house warming gift.”

he tried his best to give you a bright smile, but a thin lipped one came out instead; filled with sympathy. it made you frown harder. you hate sympathy smiles, especially finnicks and that seemed to be the only thing you’ve been getting from him lately.

“try to get some sleep tonight,” he pressed a soft kiss against the side of your head before turning around and withdrawing.

°•

he came back the next day.

you wanted to punch him due to him walking in out of nowhere and throwing your bedroom curtains open, allowing the bright sunlight to eat at the darkness and consume all corners of your bedroom.

“you okay?”

“i’m fine, i just…” you paused, pressing your lips together, trying to rid of the burning sensation that begun to pull at your eyes; tears. “i need you to um, go.”

his eyes lightly gazed over you from where he stood by the window, his face slightly hard and stern, thinking. the sight of you practically drowning in your sheets and pillows made you look innocent and sad.

“you need to get out of bed, sweetheart,” he took a seat on your plush mattress, his hand resting on your legs through the comforter. “let some fresh air in, you need it.”

“finn, please just leave me alone,” you pressed the palm of your hand to your head, rubbing your forehead. “i just want to lay here.”

“that’s not going to do anything good.”

“yeah, and how would you know,” you sniffed, clutching yourself—feeling so cold in your bones and soul, like your whole anatomy was being soaked in ice water. nothing felt right, you couldn’t think straight.

finnick’s tongue pushed into the inside of his cheek, resisting the urge to get annoyed, “i think i would know a little bit about surviving.”

you didn’t say anything. he thought about just walking and leaving you to your sleep, but he felt his chest tighten, knowing that he would have wanted someone there for him after his first games.

he got up from the bed, rounding over and leaning from the other side of the bed to where you laid. you finally saw his face and you wanted to immediately look away, a feeling of guilt and solum hitting your chest hard.

his hand grasped the back of your neck while his head dipped close toward yours, immerse you with his scent and warmth, “i know i’m probably the last person you want to see, but i’m here to help you. i promise.”

his warmth.

“help me sleep then,” you mumbled, not really thinking as your hand loosely grabbing onto his bicep and attempting to pull him closer despite the clear hesitation and resistance he held.

it felt wrong, and he didn’t want to violate a boundary, but with your hand still on his bicep, slowly falling to his hand, you were making things hard.

and he gave in, laying in your bed, right next to you.

°•

“you sure this is okay?”

oh how you didn’t know how this happened; finnick’s body pressed against yours in the foyer with nothing but good intentions that were just sinful.

“yes,” you pressed further into him, reaching for his lips with your own, hoping to drown everything else out, “just kiss me.”

he was hesitant, his eyes searching yours eagerly but he found nothing. your eyes were cold with sad outlines, making you look absent. he laid his rough palm against the side of your cheek, slowly easing his warmth onto you. he knew exactly what you felt, how lonely you were in your very own body and how desperate you were just for someone… someone’s touch and control just so you wouldn’t have to think for yourself.

your eyes fluttered shut and you once again attempt to lean in for a kiss. this time he kissed back, and it seemed like in hindsight, he needed you, not you needing him.

he wanted to make you feel better. wanted your mind to travel elsewhere oppose to where he knew it was exactly right at that moment. he felt it was his responsibility to bring you back stable, even if that required doing something far from right.

you needed help, he wanted to be that help. unfortunately, he was the wrong kind of assistance you actually needed.

his lips cluttered your face, pressing soft kisses that made your stomach twist and turn with what felt like bliss. your head dropped against the back of the wall, small exhales filling the air till you were practically whimpering with his mouth on your neck, his hands grasping every bit of you that he could.

“finn, i need you,” your fingers laced within his hair while you openly spoke without another thought, “please.”

and it was all he needed.

even if he couldn’t take away the nightmares, he could try to take your pain away for just a second.

navigation.

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phoenixblaze1412 · 6 months

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Hi!!!! can I get a fluff oneshot with Akademiya Dottore/Zandik and a shy gn reader where ur both outcasts and like eachother a lot, and one day when ur both out researching together he tries his luck at at flirting with reader (he sucks at it) - 🐓

Warning: Zandik is adorkable.

Mute.

That was all the other Dasturs of your class would call you due to your shy nature. Even the sages started to doubt your abilities as a scholar due to your meek and timid self. They would always tell you that no scholar as shy as you should continue studying in the Akademiya. For them, being shy is an insignificant personality that doesn't deserve attention or praise.

You let out a sigh, another day in the Akademiya, another day to get outcasted by the Dasturs and the sages. Still you kept going, ignoring the insults and proceeding with your studies. You weren't the only one in this situation. Your friend Zandik also received the same treatment from the Akademiya but that didn't stop him from his research.

You really liked Zandik ever since you met him during one of your classes. You had to swallow your own nervousness just to approach and talk to him, you didn't believe in the rumors about him being a weird one. He was rude to you at first but he slowly began to accept your presence and considered you as an acquaintance friend. Others would call you both as 'the weirdo and the mute', the outcast duo.

What you didn't know is that Zandik liked you as well. Your knowledge and intellect fascinates him and he finds your shy and timid nature to be adorable too. There's not a single day that goes by where you don't come up in his thoughts.

Zandik decided to invite you for a field research, using the excuse of needing to find another ruin guard for research purposes just to be able to spend time with you.

You both walked south of Vimara Village, the presence of each other bringing you both comfort. You looked around the area in search of a ruin guard, Zandik on the other hand was too busy trying to come up with something to say to you. You saw a pair of rishboland tigers passing by, you watched in awe at how the tigers interacted with one another. Zandik watched as you looked at the rishboland tigers, liking the way your eyes lit up from seeing the creatures of nature itself. Without a second thought, Zandik cleared his throat and said something that came to his mind.

“If we were ever cats, I'd spend all of my nine lives with you.”

You stared at Zandik in surprise, the male looking back at you with wide eyes, even shocked at himself for saying such a thing to you.

“Wait no, I mean I would never donate my organs to others but I would always give you my heart.”

Zandik could only mentally facepalm at himself for what he said as he felt his face flush red. He would want nothing more than run away from you and hide in his closet. Embarrassing himself in front of the person he likes was not on the scenarios he thought of last night. He swore it sounded much better when he was only thinking about it.

Oh, Archons you were looking at him as if he had grown two heads. Your doe-like eyes staring at his reddened face. Zandik gulped down his nervousness before facing your figure and looking at you.

"(y/n), as you can see from my failure of trying to flirt with you, what I'm trying to say is.. I like you."

Your eyes widened in surprise as Zandik held your hand in his, a blush spreading across your cheeks.

"I was wondering if I can ask you out on a date, to make it official. You can say no if you don't reciprocate my feelings. Someone as extraordinary as you shouldn't even be hanging out with an outcast like me."

What Zandik didn't expect was you leaning in close to him and giving him a kiss on the cheek. You let out a small giggle as you watched him erupt into a blushing mess, him letting go of your hand just to hide his red face.

"I like you too, Zandik. You can take me out on a date."

You were confused when Zandik's flushed face started to scowl at you. He grabbed your arm before pulling you close to him, your body pressed up against his. You let out a small squeak as you stared at the male, not knowing what to do.

"Aren't you a sly little bunny? Kissing me on the cheek just to get me caught off guard. I thought you were just a shy little scholar. Seems like there's more to you than meets the eye.. but I'm not one to back down."

You were about to ask what Zandik meant when he suddenly held your chin between his fingers before pressing his lips against yours. You squeaked out in surprise before kissing back, not caring if anyone sees either of you in this situation.

An unlikely pair of outcasts. But they love each other nonetheless. And nothing in Teyvat can ever separate them from each other.

#dottore x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #dottore #zandik x reader #gender neutral reader

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anemhoez · 9 months

Text

Fun Guy…

Tighnari/AFAB Reader

WARNINGS: unprotected sex, breeding kink

A/N: this idea came to me while i was playing as tighnari 💀 hope you like it!

words: 2k

————————————————

“Nariiii,” your voice beckoned him like a sweet song, “come to bed.” You currently lay on said “bed”, a straw mat you managed to put together during your impromptu research trip through the dense forest. The rain started to fall and once you and Tighnari finished dispensing of a withering, you made camp quickly in the spot that had cleared up beautifully.“In a minute darling,” his voice full of curiosity at the current specimen he observed in his hand. The rain had stopped and the night air was crisp, the smell of damp greenery permeated the tent as you tried to get comfortable without his warmth.

Tighnari jotted down notes to describe the look of the fungus in his hand, his slender fingers squeezing it softly. “Fascinating!” he said and just wrote down even more words. You sighed and stared up at the low ceiling of the tent, “When did you even pick that thing?” your eyebrow raising at him. He turned to you, his hazel eyes meeting yours, “I grabbed it before we set up the tent, you might have been distracted with hammering the stakes.” He used his pencil to measure the height of the fungus, “Its pretty much bite-sized.” Your mind trailed off thinking about how those stakes weren’t the only things that needed to be hammered. Tighnaris voice was but a whisper suddenly, “Well, it tastes just fine.” You turned immediately and noticed the fungus that was just in his hand was gone, “Nari?!” your voice was loud and he snapped his head towards you, “Did you just eat it?!”

He swallowed audibly, “No?” You shook your head, your hands coming to cross over your chest, “For a forest ranger, that’s pretty irresponsible of you,” what if you fall ill?!” He realized the error of his ways as he felt the fungus slowly travel down his gullet, “Sorry, I don’t have any of my lab equipment and, this is the only way I can test its properties.” He reached out and took your hand in his, “It wont happen again, I promise.” His fluffy ears perked up and you couldn’t help but lean down and kiss him. “Why do you even need to examine it so thoroughly right now anyway?” you questioned the ranger, “you couldn’t wait until we got back to the village?”

Tighnari turned away from you, a slight blush creeping on his cheeks, “Well, about that,” he said and toyed with his earring, a gesture he always did when he was nervous, “that fungus, I actually know more about it then I let on.” He stood up, his tail swishing from side to side, “I ate it, knowing what it will do to me.” His eyes were avoiding yours and you took him by the chin gently, “Oh? Whats it supposed to do to you? Have you been feeling unwell?” He shook his head and took you by the waist, his arms enveloping you in a tight embrace, “Not at all,” he moved in closer and gave you a kiss, his tongue parting your lips. You kissed him back, your hands coming to wrap around his neck. that familiar feeing of excitement in the pit of your stomach catalyzing. He pulled away and met your eyes once more, “I read about it a few weeks ago, and was curious, so while we were out here I took the opportunity to search for it” he explained with enthusiasm, his ears moving in tandem with his words, “It’s a natural performance enhancer.” You couldn’t help but smirk devilishly,

“Are you serious?,” your hands came to cover your month, “Tighnari, you degenerate!” you joked and he pulled you back to him, holding you close. “What do you say Y/n? Would you be interested in being my research assistant?” To say you were surprised was an understatement, you’d never expect this from him in a million years. A part of you was excited, but another part felt guilty, as if it was your fault he needed to “enhance” himself in some way.

“I’m at your disposal Nari but, why do you feel like you need to take something like this?” you asked, your hands coming to tug on his ears playfully. “Not only out of curiosity but, you have no idea how badly I want to,” he stopped and his tail began to wag faster, “fuck you for hours upon hours.” His words stirred something within you, its not like he didn’t have the stamina naturally, you thanked his genetics for that. “Okay, I just don’t want you feeling inadequate in any way,” you said as you trailed your hands down his body. “Not at all I just want to,” he stopped when you palmed his bulge through his loose shorts, “make you feel even better than usual, Y/n.” You rubbed against him, “Hmm I see,” your hand reached inside the hem of his shorts, “Im so lucky to have a guy like you Nari, always so considerate.” He huffed as you continued your ministrations, your soft hands stroking him to erection, “Anything for you- ah!”

Tighnari yelled and you quickly removed your hand from his pants, “Archons! Did I hurt you?” He shook his head to reassure you, “I think the fungus is taking effect,” he looked down and pulled the hem of his pants to peer inside, “it kind of stings? But in a good way?” You peered into his open hem, “I don’t think it should hurt though,” your voice laced with worry, “Now Im worried.” He pulled out his dick and held it. He stroked it lazily, “Theres no need to worry,” his cock looking heavy in his hands, “ It feels incredible.” His voice was low as he threw his head back, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed back a moan.

The sight in front of you made your core tremble. Tighnari was moaning louder than before, his thick cock beginning to drip with pre-cum. You instinctively got on you knees, “Nari,” you cooed and he looked down at you, “what happened to me being your assistant?” He smiled and took the back of your head gently, “That’s right,” he guided his cock to your lips and you graciously took him into your mouth. It felt almost foreign in your mouth, what with how thick the fungus had made him. You pulled away, his cock bobbing and dripping with saliva. “I think you’re thicker than usual, I can barely take the whole thing.”

You took his dick in your hand and stroked it hard, moving to suck at his now thickened sack. He moaned loudly at the sensation, “Is that so?” He suddenly pulled away from you, “One second, let me grab my notes.” His cock bobbed as he reached for his notepad, “Takes effect after a few minuets, almost as if it bypasses the digestive system, may increase in girth.” His tone was serious as he scribbled. You could feel your wetness start to soak your underwear, your boyfriends dick almost taunting you as it stood at full mast. “Ahem,” you cleared your throat and he came back to reality. A smile spread across his face, “My apologies, its all just so, fascinating!” his voice brimming with excitement

He pulled you up and onto your feet, “Shall we try another variable?” his hand came up to your mouth and wiped away some of the mess. You realized what he meant and crawled over to the mat, “And that variable would be?” you teased, your hand trailing down your body to between your legs. Tighnari could hear just how wet you were, “My cock inside of you, of course.” He positioned himself in front of you, his cock in hand, harder than ever. He watched as you opened your legs wide, completely exposing yourself to him. You slid your fingers inside of you, the squelching sounds cause Tighnari to emit a growl from deep within his throat. “You’re already so wet for me,” his voice was soft as he moved to slot between your plush thighs. “like a good assistant should be.”

He pushed the head of his throbbing cock into you, “Ah, fuck Y/n,” he grunted and buried himself to the hilt, “have you always been this tight?” He pulled out and the drag of his cock almost took your breath away, “Nari!” His hand pushed your thighs down further onto the mattress, “Tell me, how it feels” his voice was needy, his teeth coming to bite his bottom lip as he pulled out and thrusted back in. You arched your back, the sensation whenever he hit your cervix causing you to wince a little, “S-so, big, it feels, ah, bigger than usual?” you questioned how that was possible but stopped when he slammed back into you, “Fuck Nari!” Your eyes darted to where he disappeared inside of you, “How do you feel?” He chuckled at your question, “Incredible Y/n, simply incredible!” he exclaimed with a moan as you clenched down on him harder. “I cant wait to fuck you like this for the rest of the night.”

There was barely any space between you and Tighnari with how close he was holding you, making sure his cock was nestled deep inside of you. He picked up his pace and with every hard piston like thrust , his cock brushed against your sweet spot. Tighnaris ears drooped low, and you reached up to scratch behind them, knowing just how needy and whiney it made him. He took your hands from his ears and pinned them above your head, “I’m trying to last longer here,” his tail puffed up, “you know that drives me wild.” You smiled and locked half lidded blown out eyes with him, “Maybe I want you to get wild Nari,” you rolled your hips to meet his in a fervor, “fuck me like an animal and fill me up with your cum.” His eyes went wide, his hips meeting yours harder with a smack, “Oh? Is that part of the experiment?” he joked and smiled down at you. He leaned down and kissed you, his teeth taking your bottom lip and biting down. He brought a hand to your neck, “Want me to fill you up, huh? To breed you, darling?” his tone was intense, with his favorite thing to do to you now on the table, he pulled out of you. “Turn around”

You obeyed, almost immediately and didn’t care how desperate it might have made you look. You got on your elbows and knees, your ass perked up perfectly in the air. “Breed me, please Nari.” He slapped your ass hard and you yelped a desperate cry. Tighnari moved and easily slid into you from behind, “Just how I like it,” his nimble hands coming to squeeze your ass. This new position allowed him to fuck you harder, to hold onto your wrists and use them to pull you onto him. His piston like pumps sending you into a fit of whines and curses. Tighnari grunted and growled behind you, “You always take me so well,” he pushed your arms against you back, crossing them over one another, “so tight, so fucking wet.” The only things holding you up were your knees, your face buried into the pillow, muffling your pitiful screams. He grunted and huffed, “I can feel you about to cum, fuck!” he said and grabbed a fistful of your hair. This was it, that action alone caused your cunt to flutter and clench down on him hard. A guttural scream came from your throat, “Nari!” was all you said through your euphoric climax.

But your fox hybrid boyfriend continued to thrust, still seeking his own release. “You’ll have to explain that orgasm to me in great detail.” His voice was hoarse, his thrusts still merciless. You lay on your cheek, your pussy still throbbing, drool and tears dirtying the pillow. You moaned with every thrust he gave you, like a babbling fool hungry for more. He let go of your wrists, letting you readjust and get comfortable. His thrusts slowed down, “Look at you, this is exactly what i wanted to do to you,” his voice was softer now, “have you so fucked out and drunk on my cock.” You turned to lay on your side, his dick never exiting you. “Fuck that fungus, in the name of the archons,” you huffed and moved to lay back down on your back, “fuck that fungus.”

He was now leaning over you, his thrusts as vicious as ever, your tongues meeting in a sloppy kiss. Your fingers were intertwined, his weight of his body holding you down. “Nari, ah!” you said through the kiss. He rolled his hips into you, not just fucking you now but making love to you. “I know darling, me too.” You continued the kiss and with a few more thrusts from Tighnari, you came on him again, your body writhed in pleasure. His thrusts became erratic as he felt your walls flutter against him, this time bringing him to his own peak. Tighnari howled, his seed spurting deep inside of you. His load was larger than usual, “Fuck, I’m still cumming!” he exclaimed as his body convulsed. You watched his ears droop as he huffed and shook through his orgasm. “Tighnari, I feel so full,” you whispered loud enough for him to hear. He opened his eyes after he finished and pulled out of you. Thick white seed almost gushed out of you, he observed closely as you reached down and used your fingers to push his cum back into you. “Theres so much,” you said and looked at him, “are you trying to become a father?.” The fox hybrid smiled and moved to your side, “Not just yet,” You kissed and cuddled for a few minutes before you felt Tighnaris cock getting hard again. “Already?!” you looked down and there it was, his pretty dick getting hard for you all over again. He held a hand to his mouth to stifle a laugh, “Archons, Ill have pages of notes to write later.”

A/N: hehe this unlocked a kink!! 😀🥴 no, im not okay!

#genshin impact #genshin impact smut #tighnari #tighnari x reader #genshin x reader #genshin reader insert #genshin smut #genshin tighnari

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dokk-fukuro · 1 year

Text

Bloody Moon [Bram Stoker x f!Reader]

Minors DNI

۞₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪۞

A/N: f!reader, mention of female genitals, smut, mentions of blood, Bram has his body

۞₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪۞

The entire settlement bypasses the old estate, which is only miraculously not called a castle. Various rumors circulate about that place, supposedly its owner is cursed. You used to hear from the locals that the owner of the estate is a servant of the Devil, or is one himself. But you weren't interested in the tales of frightened villagers. You were more interested in the opportunity to gain knowledge of healing in order to help people, and not to pretend.

And that's why you're here, making your way through the overgrown path to the estate late at night. You are not afraid of dry bushes and dead trees that cast evil shadows on the ground under the moonlight, you are not afraid of howling wolves somewhere in the distance. The nature of these lands seemed to have died long ago.

The estate welcomes you with a dead garden. It died a long time ago. Flowers died, if there were shrubs, they either turned into a pile of stabbing dry branches, or were so ugly that you can’t look at them without tears. In the center of this garden there is a large fountain with a decoration in the form of three girls holding jugs. You don’t know how long he hasn’t worked, however, you don’t ask yourself this question. You knock on the door. All this time, you have a strong feeling that you are being watched. Maybe that's how it is?

The heavy oak door opens on its own. At your own risk, you go inside, frantically look around to be sure for sure: you are alone. Most of the furniture is covered with white bedspreads, dust settles on the railings and window frames, in some places you can see cobwebs in the corners. This estate has been abandoned for a long time. Clearly no one has lived here for years. At least it creates that impression. “And why is everyone afraid of it?” You wonder at some point, and strange noises somewhere nearby distract you. As if someone is approaching. Frightened, you pull out a knife, but you hear laughter in response.

“And what do you hope for when you decide to use it against me?” The voice is deep, rough with a clear mockery of you and the whole situation. To a stranger you seem ridiculous in an attempt to protect your life. "Why did you disturb me?"

You look around, slowly moving forward towards the massive staircase leading to the second floor. Fear grips your entire body, causing every nerve ending to tense up. Each muscle is like a spring. The instinct of self-preservation is calling you to run as far as possible from this damned place, but you have come such a long way that you simply cannot return back with nothing. It is the only smoldering flame of courage in your chest. You have a clear goal with which you came to this estate, and you clearly do not intend to deviate from your original plan.

Your attempts in the twilight to find something or someone who addresses you are futile. And this only amuses the one who is watching you from the shadows even more. The way you cling to your life, the way you desperately try to see the source of the voice in the twilight. This someone could watch you for hours.

“But you should probably be commended for your bravery. Ignore the locals' warnings and come here... You're either too brave or too damn stupid. Haven't you been warned about who is the owner of this place?” You swallowed hard. Only one thing reassured you for sure: what you do not see, at least a human voice, is something that thinks, accordingly, not relying solely on animal instincts. With this “something” you can make a deal. After all, can you?

“Don’t you think that when guests come to you, you need to at least go out to them. I'm not talking about how to find out if you need help?” You are ready to almost curse yourself for those words. Who asked you to open your mouth, and even more so to talk back the obvious owner of these places? “There are a lot of conversations about you. What I just did not hear on the way here. even it was said that the devil himself lives here.”

Right behind you, you hear laughter, angry and a little judgmental. Icy hands, like those of a dead man, rest on your shoulders, and all your imaginary courage leaves your body at once, as if by a wave of your hand. The desire to run overcomes its own limits, but your legs do not obey you, you cannot even take a step forward, let alone escape. The owner of the estate is amused by such a reaction.

You slowly turn around, your heart literally swells with fear, pressing on your lungs and making it difficult to breathe fully. Before you stands a man in a black cloak. His pale, almost porcelain skin reflects the moonlight that enters the hall despite the slightly dirty window. The owner of the estate is dressed in a long black cloak, from under which a high standing collar of a white shirt sticks out. His eyes don’t have a vital luster. He carefully study your features, glare into your eyes. And you understand that your miserable life will end in the estate. You’ll not become a doctor in your small town, you’ll not be able to save other people's lives. You'll just die here in the clutches of this creature. However, his impossibly long blond hair grabs your attention.

“More than daylight and noise around, I hate impudent people like you. But your courage amazes me. Tell me, child, what's your wish? Do you really want to spend your whole life learning how to save people? What's the point?” The gaze of the scarlet eyes rushes to the blade of the knife that you hold in your trembling hands. It seems to you that if you were not killed in the first seconds, you were just lucky, or he’s playing with you.

“I was told that there is someone in this estate who can teach me the art of healing. They said that there is an incalculable treasure, an incredible amount of knowledge that will help humanity move forward and not die with a slight cough.” You seemed to be waiting for this question, because the fire of courage in your chest flares up with renewed vigor, driving out fear. You are confident in your aspirations, and now you are definitely not going to leave the intended path. “Please teach me. Share your knowledge. In return, I will do anything for you.”

The desire to learn, to learn something new attracts him. That is why the man's features soften, and he leads you along. The library on his estate was covered in dust. There is not a single book in it that the owner would not read, because they are all boring to him. But seeing genuine admiration and delight in your eyes, it seems that the one who is branded the Devil in the flesh is tingling somewhere deep, between the ribs, where the heart once beat. Years of loneliness in the estate make themselves felt, it is unusual for a man that someone is wandering in his library again, looking at the spines of books with interest, going through the letters with their fingertips, leaving their warmth and smell on them. Oh, you still don't fully understand who you're messing with. However, this thought does not occur to you.

"May I know your name, sir?" In the meantime, you are interested, taking out the book you need, as it seems to you. You’re not even afraid of the sudden appearance of the owner of the estate behind your back, ‘cause you are too keen on studying everything that catches your eye. Botany, medicinal properties of plants, tinctures making, chemistry. So much to learn, read and find out. The man himself does not notice how the smile touches his dry lips. It’s so interesting to watch you fussy, that he even forgets about your impudence in the first minutes of your meeting.

“Count Bram Stoker,” comes the reply. His scarlet eyes do not leave you for a second, while you study every page of the book you have taken with genuine interest. The question flickers in his thoughts: "Is there really such mortals in this world?" If it wasn't for your impudence, Stoker would have thought you were perfect.

A man forbids you to take books with you. Instead, he offers you one of the bedrooms on the second floor. At first, you shyly refuse, believing that it is not worthwhile to embarrass the owner of these places, which leads Bram to complete confusion. Almost from the threshold you showed a lively and impudent disposition, and now it’s like a different person in front of him. And yet you have to agree. Your long and difficult journey to this estate has exhausted you more than you thought.

“However, I should warn you in advance. Don’t go to the neighboring wing, otherwise even I, as the owner of this estate, will not guarantee your survival here.” Sounds ominous, but you agree to the terms with a quick glance at the door that leads to the next wing.

Your guest room is large. You could say that your whole house will fit in it. Carved canopy bed to the ceiling, large wardrobe and chest of drawers next to it, dressing table. On both sides of the bed there are bedside tables and a screen next to the wardrobe. Surprisingly, there is no mirror in the room, and the makeup table, which should have one, only has a frame. The mirror seemed to have been deliberately pulled out of there, or broken. You don't ask too many questions, you just thank Bram for his hospitality. Does the monster live on the estate, as they say?

You start to notice strange things after a while. The landlord often draws the curtains, doesn't eat with you, and only occasionally keeps you company while you chat about everything. You tell him about how things are outside the small town where he lives, what you saw while getting to his place. And Bram was listening to your monologues with interest.

“Mr. Stoker, may I inquire? - You're getting his attention. In the candlelight, his scarlet eyes gleam. They reflect a strange interest in you, not in your stories, not in what you saw, but precisely in your every gesture. It's like Bram is trying to devour you with just a look. It's getting uncomfortable. "Why aren't you joining the meal?"

The man sighs, his parched lips stretching into a strange, wry smile, as if he's trying to hide something from you. It sends chills down your spine. Dislike of daylight, lack of mirrors, strange hissing in his way of speaking. And this is far from the whole list of what you have noticed and continue to notice.

“You shouldn't worry about me. I already dined earlier,” does not sound very convincing, but you do not ask any more questions. In the end, the piercing gaze of blood-red eyes urges you to finish your meal, as if to say: “The food is getting cold.”

Oddity can also be called the complete absence of any servants. There are no butlers or maids on the estate, no cooks or gardeners either. And this is in addition to the door that leads to the neighboring wing. Apparently, it is tightly locked, and for some reason the instinct of self-preservation relentlessly insists that you should not even try to look for the key. However, you are not going to do it anyway.

“Last question, Mr. Stoker. Don't take it as impudence, but I want to ask you: are you married?” And then the devil pulled you to ask this very question. But you're really interested in his marital status. The answer seems obvious, but you can't take back the words. Bram frowns, rises from his seat and begins to pace thoughtfully next to a dusty fireplace, the ashes from which no one has raked out for a long time. Above the fireplace hangs a portrait.

And only looking closer you understand: it depicts the owner of the estate with a young woman. They look happy and in love. It makes you uncomfortable to know that you are most likely making Stoker remember the past, the traumatic past.

“She died three years ago,” the man sighs and looks up at the portrait, as if he has managed to follow your gaze. Appetite completely repulses because of the sucking feeling of sadness and longing. Of course, you don't know this girl personally, but Bram's grief seems to be transmitted to you. It fills the entire room, forcing out all the air. Approaching the man carefully, you look at him, then at the portrait. The look of the owner of the estate returns to you. “You look so much like her. Could this be fate?”

You never believed in the transmigration of souls, because you always thought it was something on the verge of mysticism and unreal. However, this time, looking a man eye to eye, you are ready to believe anything. And all his oddities that you notice for an extended amount of time disappear from your mind. You are literally drawn to Stoker, and he doesn't even try to push you away. Instead, he lets you touch his icy cheeks with symmetrical scars on either side. Its coldness doesn't bother you at all, instead you just breathe out:

“You're so cold, Mr. Stoker. Let me warm you up.”

You reach for his lips, and the man still doesn’t push you away, allowing you to touch his dry lips. A careful touch makes him close his eyes, clasp your waist with icy, like a dead man's hands, press you a little closer. In the dining room where you are, it is as if a vacuum is formed in which nothing is heard, and only in your ears you hear the beating of your heart.

It's amazing how quickly things change around. A moment ago you were standing by the fireplace in the dining room, and now you are surrounded by a guest room in which you sleep. And while graceful hands with long, thin fingers free you from the shackles of clothes, you reach for the buttons on Bram's vest. His lips never leave your warm skin for a second. Every part of your body that opens up is covered in kisses, soft and pleasant. The man silently asks, “Are you ready?” For him, this moment is an opportunity to escape from the loneliness that lives side by side with him for God knows how long. You are his chance to feel not alone again.

There is less and less clothes on your bodies. Kisses on your skin fan the flames in your chest, your blood feels hot like magma coursing through your veins. You bashfully cover your body with your hands, but Bram carefully takes your wrists and spreads his arms to the sides. His scarlet eyes, like rubies in the snow, burn out in your memory your well-made girlish figure.

“You are beautiful, my love,” comes out of his lips more involuntarily than consciously, but he does not think of correcting himself somehow. And that only makes it more embarrassing. The white sheets embrace you as Stoker continues to cover your skin with kisses. Having taken off your underwear, the man, to his surprise, finds that you are already wet enough to take at least one of his fingers into you. Not to mention that you are clearly untouched by anyone. “Are you ready?”

He waits for a rejection so he can just stop and pretend it never happened. He wants to suppress the growing thirst, although he understands that for you the current one everything will end on this snow-white bed. The thirst that Bram so desperately wants to quench lies in your blood, in its alluring scent, in the warmth of your body and your curiosity. Appearing impudent to him from the doorway, you charmed him afterwards. And now he won't be able to let you go so easily, his inky heart won't be able to survive this.

To his dismay, you agree. And his thirst is joined by the desire to get all of you, to make you his forever. His finger has a hard time getting inside your pussy. You’re wet, tight and warm that Stoker almost groans, anticipating how he will stuffed you completely, replacing his finger with his cock. The man moves it carefully, watching each change of your emotional spectrum with his eyes shining in the twilight. You bewitch him like a real witch. And as soon as your first moan breaks from your lips, Bram has to make every effort to restrain himself and frankly animal desires.

A second one joins the finger inside you. For the owner of the estate to work you like this, seeing you thrash around in his hands is real torture. Your rapid breathing, interrupted by moans, the way you bite your lips and tremble. Stoker is ready to die and be reborn for this moment. He asked you for the last time the question of your readiness to take him inside you, he still hopes to hear a refusal. But you nod, and he has no other choice but to follow you into the pool of pleasure.

He enters your pussy slowly, centimeter by centimeter. Surprisingly, you don't feel any pain. It's warm inside you, the walls wrap around his cock tightly, almost not allowing him to move inside you. And only when Stoker enters you completely, looking deeply into your eyes, he kissed your lips. In this position, you spend some time before your body relaxes underneath him, the walls no longer wrap around his cock so much, and he can move more or less freely.

Bram's movements inside you are slow, smooth, but deep. The man revels in your quiet moans and sighs. You grab his shoulders, arch your back, changing the angle of entry, but you only ask for one thing: “Don’t stop.” And it removes all restrictions from the owner of the estate, which begins to pick up the pace, leaning over the crook of your neck. The heat of your body, the intensified scent of blood beckons him, and who is he to deny himself pleasure.

Your blood is hot, filling his mouth and throat, dripping with rare drops on the white sheets under your especially loud moan. Stoker moves inside you faster now, bringing you to orgasm with more than just the feel of the fangs in your neck. And you can only remotely hear how he moans with you, cumming inside.

That night, the moon turned red.

#My writing #bsd smut #Smut #bsd x reader #bsd #bungo stray dogs #bram x reader #bram stoker bsd #stoker x reader #bram stoker x reader

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