#writing collab

[porcelainseashore]

To Neighbors and New Beginnings

Pairing: Retired! Older! Leon Kennedy x Neighbor! Fem! Reader

Summary: Leon’s getting on in years and finally retired. But that doesn’t mean he’s slowing down in terms of enjoying life. When you moved in next door, little did you realize what you had bargained for.

Content & Warnings: 18+ Post-Resident Evil: Death Island, age gap (Leon in his 60s, Reader in her 30s), strangers to lovers, swearing, bad humor, teasing, flirting, awkward tension, slow burn, romance, fluff, suggestive themes, mild smut.

Authors' Note: Inspired by this older Leon Kennedy pic, we started with a drabble that of course turned into a full length one-shot about our favorite agent, who’s aged like fine wine. This is a writing collab between AliBelleRosetta / @alibellerosetta and me, which we did for fun!

AO3 Link

There comes a time when an agent needs to retire, and Leon was no exception. When he started pushing mid-60s, there wasn’t much else he could do, save for having his brains picked for knowledge on B.O.W. behavior and countertactics. Even that was slowly dwindling as new virus strains and procedures developed. It reached a point where an agreement was made for him to be called in on a consulting basis, but for the most part of his retirement life, he was free to do as he pleased, within limits.

After all the horrors he had witnessed, he was more than happy to opt for the simple life. He finally had enough time on his hands to care for a pet. So, he pounced at the opportunity and got himself a retired police dog, settling down together with him in a quiet, suburban neighborhood, in the middle of nowhere, doing fuck all. At least for the moment. Until you came along. You sweet, young thing, you.

You were half his age, but all is fair in love and war when both of you were consenting adults. You’d recently moved in next door to him, after the previous owners had decided to sell off their house in favor of acquiring a smaller, more manageable place. What was a young lady like yourself doing here? he often wondered. You were an enigma, just like he was to you.

It began with him going about his daily routine of yawning and stretching his weary limbs, as he trudged out sluggishly, in nothing more than a pair of shorts and flip-flops, to get the morning paper from his mailbox, dog trailing behind. Slamming the lid shut after he had fished the paper out of the box and flicked it open, he spotted you from the corner of his eye, just as his dog lifted his leg to mark his territory on the stand.

You were standing by your kitchen window, biting the bottom of your lip, oblivious to the tap left running, as you peered at him intently. It seemed as if you were even unaware that he had caught you staring, since you made no attempt to cover it up. He smirked to himself before nonchalantly heading back to his house. It gave him a boost of confidence knowing that he still remained spry as ever. So what if his hair, once golden blonde and a source of pride, was now a sea of white? So what if he sported a couple of wrinkles and liver spots? He sure as hell hadn’t lost his touch yet.

A couple of days later, when the weather was good, he pulled up a deckchair on the front lawn, in direct line of sight of your bedroom window. The sound of your hair dryer turning on tipped him off that you were in. He proceeded to sunbathe on the chair topless, his newspaper in hand, without a care in the world. His dog made his rounds along the lawn, frolicking in the grass, as various passers-by greeted Leon cordially.

“Mr. Kennedy.”

He nodded at them politely.

A moment later, he heard the shutters of a window opening. He didn’t even have to turn in your direction to know that you were leaning out, pretending to take in the glow of the noon sun as you traced the outline of his muscles with your eyes. He flipped a page and chuckled. Oh, what was he going to do with you?

Well, the grass was getting taller and more unruly. That wouldn’t do. It was time for him to whip out the big guns. He picked a Sunday afternoon, when people were usually lazy and lounged around at home. Gripping the mower’s handle with one hand, he pulled the starter cord a couple of times, until the engine revved to life. 

Its loud, whirring sound caused you to poke your head out of your window. He caught your gaze then, giving you a cocky wink. A scarlet blush spread across your cheeks as you waved back at him, trying to appear friendly. Shaking his head with a grin, he got to work, methodically pushing the mower across the lush, green expanse of his front lawn. The crisp scent of freshly cut grass filled the air, as the sun’s rays beat down mercilessly. Beads of perspiration glistened on his forehead and pooled at his neck. It was time for a short break.

Peeling his drenched, white t-shirt over his head, he used it to wipe the sweat away, dabbing at his chest and underarms, before slinging it over his shoulder. Your eyes were fixed on the scene before you, as you rested your chin in the cradle of your hands, staring dreamily at him again from the window. He flexed his upper body slightly, just enough to give you a teaser of what was to come. That snapped you out of your reverie, as you cleared your throat and busied yourself with something in the kitchen. He couldn’t see what it was from where he was standing.

Soon, he saw you walking over with an icy cold drink in your hand. You stuck it out in front of him like a peace offering.

“Lemonade?” You seemed uncertain and shy.

“Sure.” He nodded and smiled, accepting it graciously. 

A tingle ran through your veins where his fingers brushed against yours when he took the glass from you. His piercing blue eyes held your gaze as he gulped down the refreshment, though the last bits of it spilled from his mouth down to his chest.

“Oops.” He shrugged unapologetically. “Can’t let it go to waste, can I?”

Dragging his finger along the wet parts of his chest, he gathered what remained of the liquid and placed it into his mouth, licking and sucking on it like it was the most delicious thing in the world.

“Mmm,” he murmured softly. “Tastes good.”

The crow’s feet etching the corners of his eyes crinkled warmly, as he watched you sputter and cough in response.

“Excuse me.” A crimson wave had washed over your face, as you pat your chest furiously. “Choked on my saliva.”

“Happens to the best of us.”

He eyed you again intensely, motioning to your other hand. “What’ve you got there?”

“Oh, uh, sunblock?” You pointed at the reddened skin on his back. “I thought you might-”

“Go ahead, sweetheart,” he interrupted, presenting his back towards you, as he waited patiently for you to make a move.

Sweetheart? You swallowed thickly, trying to figure out if you had misheard what he said. Shakily, you squeezed out a creamy, white blob of sunscreen into your palms, rubbing them together before slathering it over his back gingerly.

You gasped in surprise, as you felt the toned muscles of his back beneath your hands. This was way better in-person. He must work out a lot, you thought. A lot more than someone of his age.

However, it didn’t take long for you to notice the multitude of scars scattered across his back. As you caressed the raised bumps and faded indents, you wondered what kind of life he had led back in the day. Was he a military man? A war veteran? Or maybe he just got into a lot of fights?

Apparently, you must have a magic touch, because Leon started to treat it as if you were giving him a full-body massage.

“Yeah,” he grunted, as you ran your hands over his taut shoulders. “Right there…”

Your task was to simply ensure he didn't get any more sunburned than he already was, but the poor man was so tight all over, you felt sorry for him. So, you got a little carried away and pressed hard against a particularly stubborn knot in his lower back.

He tilted his head back involuntarily and let out a loud, pornographic moan.

“Mr. Kennedy?” you squeaked, concerned if you went too far.

“Please, just call me Leon.” He flashed a boyish smile that revealed a glimpse into how he might have appeared in his younger days. “Don’t worry, you’re doing great, sweetheart.”

You hummed in response, his praise getting the better of you and causing a pool of arousal to form between your legs. All at once, you’d forgotten where to place your hands, what to say, and what exactly were you doing, flirting with your older neighbor so shamelessly out in the open?

A cold shower was definitely on the agenda after this. If DILFs existed, what would you call even older men who were this fuckable again? GILFs? You shuddered, feeling dirty for all the obscene thoughts swimming through your mind.

“Um, well, I guess that’s done!” you chirped out rather overenthusiastically, as you pulled away from him.

There was a slight pout on his face, though he was quick to mask it with a courteous smile. “Shame,” he commented lightheartedly. “Was enjoying it.”

A little too much, you snickered internally, as you made your way back to your house

━━━━━━━━━━━

As he stood staring out of his living room window, he pondered his next move. Despite your previous hasty retreat, you had taken to discreetly watching him work with not just a small amount of eagerness, and he was more than happy to oblige your ogling. After all, who wouldn't want a beautiful woman staring after them?

You were a curious one in his eyes, a blend of boldness as you approached him and shyness the moment you got your anticipated reward. It was a fun game he was more than happy to play with you.

Today wasn't going to be any different.

Once again, the sun hung high with not a cloud in sight, perfect to work outside on some much needed errands, but with your notable attention on him lately, the to-do list had taken quite a hit. His ideas were wearing thin, but one thought stuck out, especially with how keen you seemed to be watching him work the lawnmower. Maybe something on a larger scale would be within your interests.

With a smirk and a listen out for the quiet clangs coming from your kitchen to let him know you were home, he dropped the empty coffee cup down in his sink and headed over to snatch up his long neglected key to get on with the job at hand. The sturdy garage door opened with a series of loud clanks, the inside admittedly dusty with neglect. There in the middle stood his pride and joy. The motorcycle was an older model, but also the only one to withstand his youthful recklessness.

It’s long overdue for a tune up, he thought, grasping the handlebars as he pushed the bike out of the garage. He let it come to a rest slightly out on the driveway as he decided to give it a check over and wash it down, sneakily just in the eyeline of your window but not enough for you to see much. The bike itself admittedly didn’t get ridden as much as it should, but if he guessed right, maybe it would someday soon.

You had heard the noise of his garage door open only for curiosity to get the better of you, cracking open the window to try to get a peek of what your neighbor was up to now. It was like something had come over you, and every time he made an appearance, you couldn’t help but watch after him. You saw he was there outside briefly before heading back into his house and returning moments later with a bucket full of soapy water.

When he glanced at your kitchen upon his return, he chuckled to himself as he dropped the bucket down, sloshing some of the water across his drive. Apparently his idea had already started to work a treat, having grabbed your attention. He inserted the key into the ignition and turned it, as the motorcycle roared to life, the battery still able to kick in despite its disuse. The sound of the engine was distinct, much different from the mower previously, and he knew it was sure to pique your interest even further with what a curious thing you were. The shuffling from your kitchen as the window cracked open a little more was enough to tell him that he once again had your attention. Without a care in the world other than checking his bike and giving you a show, he dropped down on one knee, ignoring the tightening feeling in his joints. His knees weren't what they used to be after too many B.O.W. fights.

From your hung back viewpoint, you couldn’t see much, but the noise from outside drew your focus fiercely and you couldn't help but try to get a better look. No matter how much you stood on your tiptoes and reached close to the window, he was just about covered from your spot where you could only make out his unfortunately clothed back, hiding his mysterious antics for once. The way he was acting was odd, as usually he was more open with his activities. You tried to tell yourself that you should walk away and leave him to it, but it was like a desperate urge that needed to be quenched.

While his dog ran off into the yard to chase a wandering squirrel, he moved on to checking the bike over, not one to half-ass his task even if there were other motives. A quick examination of the moving parts and pivot points for signs of wear and tear came back fine, as well as inspecting for any leakage that disuse could have caused. The job was a lot messier than he remembered, with the oil gathering around the edges of the chassis coating his hands and part of his top.

The sudden barking of his dog nearby alerted him to a presence on the property, a smirk creeping up knowingly that your interest had once again gotten the better of you. You just stood there next to him staring him down, checking out his arm muscles that were left uncovered by the loose gray tank he wore, the words of your friends running through your mind as they egged you on to get closer to him. He had been working hard, and you noticed with a flush that some of the oil had smudged up his forearms and along his taught biceps.

He was tempted to chuckle at just how predictable you were becoming, knowing before he turned to look your way that you would be gazing over him with that distinct look in your eyes. It was no surprise to him at all that he was correct, finding you standing there with your shadow cast over him, and your arms wrapped around yourself, transfixed. He was seriously wondering if you didn’t know you were staring at him that way, or if you just didn’t care to hide it.

You sucked in a sharp breath as you found your eyes suddenly catching his, quickly darting away from his bright blue ones and to the motorcycle he was working on. “Oh wow, didn't know you had a bike.”

“This old girl? Been with me for years,” he said as his large hand patted the hard seat in front of him. He then used the seat as a brace to stand up, stretching out the stiff muscles that had begun to seize up from his crouched position while also putting his body on full display for your eyes. 

You couldn’t help yourself as you watched him riveted, taking in the way he flexed and moved as you felt a blush flash across your cheeks again. You had to cough to clear your throat as you tore your eyes away from him. “Haven't seen you ride it.”

“Not much of a chance to lately.”

You bit your cheek at the thought of him on it, and of you wrapped around his firm back while he rode it. No matter what, your mind kept going back to him, reliving the sensation of his skin under your hands when you had put lotion on his body, desperate to touch-

“I need to wash.”

“What?” you yelped, startled out of your wandering thoughts which snapped to his oil-covered arms and hands, eyeing them up and instantly imagining them instead coated in lather and foam as water streaked down them. You wouldn't have minded being the one to wash that oil off of his skin if it meant running your hands all over him again, a thought you were coming to accept was fueled by nothing but pure lust.

“The bike. It's filthy,” he clarified with an amused chuckle, leaving you feeling hot, embarrassed and completely disappointed. Of course he meant the bike, you scolded yourself, suddenly flushing more with humiliation than arousal.

Unexpectedly, he moved to bend down right in front of you, the tank he was wearing gaping open enough with the movement for you to look down the front of it and at his solid chest partially hidden underneath. “Oh,” you sighed out as you bit your tongue hard in an effort not to say more, his head becoming dangerously close to your crotch, and if he just shifted over a little more… 

His rough hand reached into the bucket next to you to grab the sponge floating on top, his eyes moving to catch yours as he shot you a downright dangerous smirk. As he stood back up straight, he rang the sponge out to remove the excess water, the soapy suds flying everywhere around the pair of you. You noticed that the foam coated his tank and turned it translucent in the sun as it clung tightly to his body and left trails of droplets over his uncovered skin. All you could do was swallow hard and drag your eyes off of him, a task that was more monumental than you thought it would be.

With a casualness about him, he set the sponge down on the seat of the bike suddenly, asking you, “Wanna go for a ride sometime?” 

You were caught by surprise, mind instantly faltering at the evocative question. There was no way he meant anything other than a ride on his motorcycle, right? you thought. After all, he was just a friendly older man, not some hormone riddled teen chatting up the first woman he laid eyes on. It was you that had the dirty mind. “I, um, maybe? I don't have much experience with them,” you said, answering his question as best you could ramble out.

His eyebrow quirked at your answer, his voice deepening slightly as he replied, “Hmm, never thought that would be the case. I don't mind teaching you a few things, sweetheart.”

You just laughed off his words, thinking the suggestiveness was still all on you. “I've never even been on a bike.”

“Who said I was talking about my bike?”

Your breath instantly hitched at the implication, your eyes darting between his mirth filled ones only to drift lower and catch onto his lips. They looked soft, warm, highlighted on each side by deepened laughter lines that you never would’ve thought could look so good on a man. But as they say, when men get older they age like fine wine. If that was the case, he would be a Cabernet Sauvignon aged to perfection. And you were parched.

It didn’t surprise you at all that when you found yourself shifting closer to him, you chose to embrace it, craving to feel the lips of the man you had spent too much time lately thinking about, only to become emboldened as he seemed to move in too. Your lips were mere inches apart, the heat of desire desperately running through you at the anticipated touch. 

All that came crashing down the moment his dog streaked past you chasing that damn squirrel, sending the bucket of water flying and splashing water across you both, cooling down your racing pulse and burning libido. Alarmed, you quickly backed away from him, down his drive, as the implications of what you almost did crashed down upon you. All you could do was mutter some kind of excuse and beat a hasty retreat, wondering how you would ever be able to look your neighbor in the eye the next time you saw him.

━━━━━━━━━━━

As Leon watched the scene unfold in front of him, there wasn’t much else he could do. You were a slippery one, like a mouse that had been spooked and scurried off. The one that got away. He placed his hands on his hips, arms akimbo as he clucked his tongue and sighed. Rein it in, Kennedy. What were you thinking?

He really should find better things to do than to chase a pretty little thing like you. You probably had a bunch of younger men waiting in line, he noted self-deprecatingly.

Suddenly, he heard a buzzing sound and a light flickered on the ground at his feet. Your phone. It must have slipped out of your pocket in your rush to get away. Picking it up, his eyes darted towards the message notification on the screen that piqued his curiosity. It seemed to come from a group chat entitled ‘All The Single Ladies’.

‘Raaarrr, is that the literal definition of a silver fox or what?’

Silver fox? Did they mean what he was thinking? He began to second-guess himself.

The next notification popped up only seconds after, filled with thirsty-looking emojis followed by another text.

‘Damn gurl, your neighbor is hot af! You better tap that or I will!’

More strings of notifications chimed in, as the phone vibrated constantly.

‘GILF alert!’

‘I wanna blow him so hard he’ll…’

At that, he put the phone down and stopped reading, already having figured out your spiel and not wanting to intrude any further into your privacy. A wry smile formed across his face. Not only had you been speaking with your friends about him, you’d even sent them a sneaky picture you’d snapped of him to gawk at.

A sense of pride swelled in his chest as he was back in the game again. Guess he’d better clean up and use the perfect excuse of returning your phone back to you to have a chat.

Meanwhile at your place, you’d managed to calm your nerves with a cold shower and a pot of floral tea. That was so stupid! you screamed at yourself internally, not daring to look in the direction of the window any longer.

Before you had a chance to ponder upon your recent actions any longer, your stomach growled audibly. Glancing up at the clock, you were astonished to find that the hours had just sped by unnoticed. It was already time to start cooking dinner. You had a whole chicken and potatoes to roast, as well as the vegetables, herb butter and sauce to prepare. 

Your friends were supposed to have joined you today for the meal, but unfortunately unforeseen circumstances had kept them preoccupied, and your dinner gathering had been delayed to another weekend. Still, you were determined not to let that get in the way of your enjoyment, so you decided to go ahead with the same meal plan anyway.

If only today’s events had gone differently with a certain neighbor of yours. You sighed dejectedly and pressed a palm against your face. Though that sparked off a reminder that you hadn’t checked your phone for any messages for a while. Where was it?

You scrambled around, digging through your pockets and your purse to find the device, but came back empty-handed. A blinding panic began to set in. Oh god no. You didn’t leave it at Leon’s by accident, did you?

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!

Just then, the doorbell rang, startling you and causing you to jump to your feet. You sprinted towards the door, swinging it open, only to come face-to-face with the man who had been causing you all this trouble so far.

“H-hello…?” you stammered out a greeting, slowly wedging yourself behind the door, using it like a makeshift barrier between you and Leon.

“Hey, sweetheart.” He dangled your phone in front of him, grinning playfully. “Forgot something?”

“Oh, uh, yeah. Thanks!” You reached out, grabbing it quickly as you rubbed the back of your neck sheepishly.

A horrifying thought swept through your mind. Did he know? You searched his facial expression closely for any indication that he might have seen something on your phone that he shouldn’t have, but there was nothing. He looked as cool and collected as ever.

Maybe you were overthinking things. “I was just about to make dinner actually,” you mentioned in passing. 

He looked at you expectantly and whatever willpower you had left in that instant vanished into thin air. You caved in.

“Would you like to join me?” The words spilled out of your mouth before you could process them.

"Thought you'd never ask," he replied huskily as he stepped into the corridor you led him through.

“So what’re we cooking tonight, chef?” He peered around the kitchen, checking out the equipment and utensils, trying to get acquainted with the place.

You guffawed. “Erm, you’re a guest.”

“So?” He folded his arms. “I’m not the type who lets a lady do all the work.”

Aware that he wasn’t going to budge on the matter, you raised your hands in mock exasperation. “You’re impossible.”

“You’re not the first to say it.” He shrugged, sliding past you towards where the aprons were hanging. You gasped when you felt his calloused hands momentarily on your waist. Was he doing this on purpose?

Pulling yourself together, you started to brief him on the Sunday Roast Chicken recipe, passed down through generations in your family from a battered, old notebook. He responded to each instruction with a “Yes, ma’am,” and followed them to a T. You had to give him brownie points for his eagerness to please.

“No, Leon,” you scolded gently. “That doesn’t go there.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Could you stop calling me ma’am?” You laughed. “Makes me feel old.”

“You’re one to talk.” He winked at you while placing the baking tray on the correct level. “Are you this bossy in the bedroom?”

You nearly spat out the water you’d been sipping on. “Uh, I-I don’t know?” Clearly, you wanted to bury yourself in a hole right there and then.

“Guess the proof is in the pudding,” he mumbled under his breath, just loud enough for you to hear every single word.

“Wine?” Your shrill voice cut through the air like a knife, as you tried to change the subject, shoving the bottle directly into his chest.

“Oof.” It stunned him that he felt winded by the accidental blow. He gripped the bottle as you eyed him apologetically. “Easy there, girl.”

“Sorry, my bad.” 

You brought over two empty glasses while he helped to pour out the wine, your fingers grazing against his wrist as he handed you a filled up one back. A part of you wanted to prolong the caress, but you held back, unsure of where you stood with him. You could feel the weight of his burning gaze locked onto yours as he toasted to “neighbors and new beginnings” before drinking from his glass.

You almost missed your cue, taking an extra beat to raise your own glass to your lips as you dragged your eyes from his. The wine on your tongue tasted like the sweetest you had ever sipped. Maybe it’s the company? you questioned as you watched him drop his glass down on the counter behind him. You clutched your own tightly, feeling the atmosphere constricting as he refused to look away.

The only thing you could hear was the tick of the kitchen timer and the beat of your pulse in your ears as the silence stretched between you both. Besides the smoldering of his eyes under his snowy bangs, he gave you nothing, so with desperation, you racked your brain for something, anything, to keep the tense undercurrent at bay.

With a moment of clarity, it hit you as you dropped your own glass down and glanced over towards the far side of your kitchen. The single table sat there, usually a crowded affair when your friends were over but plenty big for just two. If nothing else, setting the table would keep you busy and your mind from wandering.

With a plan of action in place to set the table, you went to shift from your spot only to be met with another obstacle. Of all the places he had to be standing in your kitchen, it was just typical he was in front of the cutlery drawer. Still, even if you had to get close to him, it was meant to be a friendly dinner after all. The almost kiss was probably just in your mind and you had been overanalyzing too much. All he had done that night since was bring over your phone like a good Samaritan and help you cook dinner like a friend.

You walked over to him, noticing that despite your approach he didn't move at all, seeming very content to have you come into his close proximity. You caught his eyes as they drifted downwards, and all of a sudden you realized the mistake you were making. Being this near to him was setting off the blush you tried keeping down, and you were sure he was going to notice.

“May I?” you asked as you stopped in front of him, a hand pointing at the drawer behind him. 

“Whatever you need,” he murmured, while not even moving a step away.

You blinked up at him, trying hard not to imagine what else he could possibly mean with those words. “The drawer. I keep the cutlery in there.”

Despite your explanation, he still didn’t shift, instead just staying where he was and watching you curiously. He had to wonder what you were up to, getting so close to him with that cute flush on your face, stammering out any old excuse. You didn’t need one at all, in his opinion.

“Oh.”

That one syllable sent a shiver down your spine. It was a mistake, a really, really bad one you decided right then and there. Just being so near to him, feeling the heat of his breath was making the ache to touch him that much more potent. You wanted to feel those lips.

You backed off from him in a hurry, fighting the flush that you felt flooding your skin as you bumped into the oven, clanging the pan you had on top that had been left out to help you prepare the dinner. You found your excuse to keep him at bay, still needing to finish preparing a few final bits of the meal.

“Help set the table?” you quickly asked him with your voice a tad too high. “Plates are up there.”

You hoped it worked, sending him a good distance away from you in the kitchen to arrange the table while you got your overheated body under control.

“There’s that bossy thing again,” you heard him mutter as he opened the cabinet you had pointed to and reached up to grab a couple of plates, though his words sounded strangely disappointed to your surprise.

You tried not to look over, but in the end it was in vain. You were blessed by the sight of his shirt ridden up, once again showing off his ridiculous physique and making you feel like melting all over again.

Tonight’s dinner was going to be a long one.

━━━━━━━━━━━

In spite of the earlier faux pas, you were thankful that having dinner with Leon passed by without any further embarrassments. He proved to be quite a decent conversationalist when he wanted to be, and you found yourself relaxing into the laughter and various points of discussion you both shared. You were enjoying yourself so much that you hadn’t realized how fast time had flown, and it was suddenly nearing midnight. Suffice to say, you were feeling rather disappointed that he would need to leave so soon.

“Good food, good wine, good company…” He stood up, helping you to clear the dishes from the table. “What more could a man like myself ask for?”

You beamed at him, letting your guard down for once. He was being such a gentleman that you couldn’t help but open your mouth and blabber out the next statement before thinking. “Could I get you anything else? Dessert, or-”

You caught yourself, pausing abruptly as your stomach sank. Why did everything you say sound like an innuendo?

He placed the dishes down where they were and made his way slowly and assuredly towards you. For some reason, you were frozen on the spot, unable to scamper off and hide within your own home without looking like an absolute fool in front of the man you had been secretly crushing on this whole time.

“You know, I can see the gears turning.” It was as if his voice dropped an octave lower. “Right here.” He tapped his fingers lightly against the side of your head, giving you a slanted smile.

“Now that you say it,” he continued languidly. “Dessert would be nice.”

He curled his hand, so that his knuckles brushed along your cheek towards your jawline, as you shivered from his touch.

“Whatever you need,” you echoed his previous sentiments softly, as you lost yourself in his deep blue eyes, now ablaze with a fierce hunger. All you could do was stare into them, watching as they drew ever closer. Then you caught it, the moment they left yours to drop down lower. Your lips parted as you inhaled sharply, your heart pounding as you felt the ghost of his breath.

You thought that he would pull away at any second, that it was just another misunderstanding. That was until you felt the first light brush against your lips. Your mind went blank, struggling to keep up until it hit that he was kissing you. All those prior moments with him flashed across your mind, and none of them had been innocent after all.

His hand slid to rest against your cheek, pulling your face closer to his as his lips caressed your own, coaxing you to reciprocate as you finally gave in to the yearning that had constricted you for so long. His lips were softer than you thought they would be, but warm as you returned the kiss with an indulgent sigh.

You felt him smile against your mouth, as you trailed your hands along his arms towards his shoulders, pressing your body against his in an effort to deepen the kiss. He grew bolder, licking across the slight parting of your lips, as if seeking permission to continue. Whimpering in pleasure, you allowed him to move his tongue to meet yours, drawing in his taste again and again.

As you started to gently grind into him, he broke away for air, pressing his forehead against yours, panting heavily against your swollen mouth. “Delicious,” he breathed, before clamping his lips at the side of your neck, sucking and nibbling at a particularly sensitive spot.

Tugging the collar of his shirt tightly, you rasped, “How about a second helping?”

The next thing you knew, you were lying on your bed, slick with sweat while Leon rocked his hips against yours. You savored the fullness of him in you, grasping onto his ass as your nails dug into his skin, leaving angry, red marks in the process. “More,” you whined, in a tone that came off unintentionally on the side of demanding rather than pleading.

He gave you just what you asked for, with sweet nothings coming from his lips along with comments about knowing you were going to be bossy. Testing the waters brought you both much further than expected, but neither of you could complain.

The rest of the night went by in a dreamlike haze. At some point, you rode him on top, his large, chafed hands groping your breasts, as you tilted your head back and cried out until your voice was hoarse. At another, you leaned your back flush against his chest as he thrust into you from behind, groaning incoherently into your neck. 

You took things in your own stride, resting when needed and going again when it was comfortable to do so. Even though he had set the pace slower than you were used to, it was no less intense. In fact, everything felt deeper and more passionate, like you were melting into one.

Every release he brought you was an ascension that sent you beyond, flooding you with a euphoria that made you desperate for him. It left you addicted, your body craving more and more of his touch each time until nothing but the feel of his skin and the shifting of the sheets could be comprehended.

The final time was intense, filled with a feeling of pure bliss that you knew you would be dreaming about for days as you clung to him in desperate abandon. His name fell from your lips in a gasp, and in turn he muttered yours.

Splayed across his damp chest, you traced the lines of his freckled, weathered skin, as he stroked your hair contentedly. “Best dessert I’ve had in a while,” he grunted, intertwining his fingers with yours and bringing your knuckles to meet his lips. “Michelin star worthy.”

You swatted his hand playfully, giggling at his quip. It spurred you on to tease him back. “So, will I get an actual ride next time?”

He chuckled heartily, though he didn’t miss a beat. Age was never an issue, he still had his wits about him. “’Course, sweetheart.” He wiggled his eyebrows at you. “If you tell me what a GILF is.”

[quinloki]

Roped In - A Collaborative Event 2025

Let’s Knot Complicate Things, eh?

Fuzzy Cuffs - Whether it’s a starter set, or a full on BDSM club, this is for the consensual and the sensual, the frisky and the mutually agreed upon risky <3

Rope Burns - For the darker appetites. From the yandere to the non-con. This is for the stuff that leaves an impression that lasts.

Unleashed - Whether it’s fuzzy cuffs, or rope burns, this is for those times when the rope’s not the only thing that has a knot >.> When the smile has too many teeth, or when it’s claws caressing your skin.

How to join?

Send an ask to me, specifying which character & prompt you will be writing/drawing for. Also tell me which of the three categories your work will be for!

When you post your piece, please make sure to tag me in the post and use the tag #RopedInCollab. Once you’re done I’ll add you to the Masterlist!

RULES:

~ Any fandom is allowed and we don’t have to be mutuals for you to join!

~ Anon is not allowed - you must be 18+ to join and I need to be able to link your work when you’re done anyway ^_^;

~ NSFW and SFW are allowed, just make sure you tag your works appropriately!

~ Fics and Art are both allowed, as are OCs, x Readers, Canon x Canon, Poly, etc.

~ Try to keep your fics at least 500 words (no maximum), any format is allowed: headcanons, bullet points, drabbles — all the way up to a multi-chapter if you want (only the first part needs to be done within the event’s timeline!)

~ Post your work during July 2025 and tag me so I can add it to the Masterlist \o/

Clarification and Example:

As long as some level of kink is in the story, it's good - from fuzzy handcuffs to full on shibari - it can be alluded to (referencing kink, but not actively experiencing it in the story), or be set in a bdsm style dungeon, the choice is yours

The prompts don't have a list cause it's just an open deal, you decide the prompt and just let me know what you want to write. (If you really need a prompt list, I can whip (heh) one up, just let me know).

The three categories are basically [standard] [dark content] [monster fucker]

So a submission would be something like: I'm writing Canon x Reader, Fuzzy Cuffs, beginner session.( or established relationship, or [insert here]) And that's all I really need to track it for the event.

Extra note: Shout out to @nagumoan inspiring the layout and general vibe of the collab with here dance with the dead event from 2023

[undermine-the-instinct]

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝑳𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝑮𝒐𝒐𝒅 𝑯𝒆𝒓𝒆 (Then I Intend)

Sesshoumaru x reader

Read on A03...

Notes: For @lorelune 's Spring fever '2024 a/b/o collab!

Masterlist.../ Next part....

Summary: The Lord Daiyokai often shuts you up in an inn, every few days of the month, for the demons that are attracted to your bloodscent. It is one of the few graces he allows. You would think its for your safety, and truly it is. Because not only do you seem to forget that he is a demon, but also a man.

Rumors of a bloodhungry demon arise, one that prowls the edges of this ghost town, devouring its residents under the shroud of moonless nights; Of which steadily approaches. Under the dark viel of a new moon, all desires will be brought to light.

NOTE: Rin and Sesshoumaru are so found-family core to me, so I absolutely DO NOT ship SessRin.

Content: Omegaverse, Alpha!Sesshomaru, HumanOmega!Reader, AFAB READER, FEM CODED READER, period mentions, era appropriate misogyny, servant/master dynamics.

Length: 8.9k

Part 1 out of 4

Listen, nine hundred and fifty years before jesus was a child shaking willow leaves out of his tangled curls, the author of the book of solomon wrote: behold, you are beautiful; your eyes are doves.

The inn that Sesshoumaru leads you to is weathered but sturdy, and most importantly, empty.

You’re surprised at the fact that the inn is a honjin, and not a cheap Kichin-yado, like the ones you've seen sparingly in other villages. This is a post town though, so it makes sense.

It is late, but beyond that the night is still, stale. The wind hardly moves, and you know the signs of a desolate town before the wariness in the residents' eyes can tell you. Scared perhaps, and desperate.

The woman who runs the inn is much like it, a bit old, but grounded, and elegant, as she stoops into a low bow and accepts the pouch Sesshoumaru hands with due reverence and trembling hands.

“Four days. Attend to their needs, whatever they may be. Your head depends on it.” You hand Rin to him, and he sets the child down on her feet with care that belies his stern brow. You take his hand next and hop down from A-Un, and he retracts his hand as soon as you are steady on your feet.

“Get inside now. It's late.”

“Yes, My Lord.” You usher Rin in behind the innkeeper, and for just a moment, you turn to look back at your Lord who doesn't follow.

“Will you be joining us?”

His eyes flash like lanterns in the darkness before he turns away. “...Just get settled in.” And he slips into the dark.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

It was hard adjusting.

Leaving the 21st century for 1500’s Japan was enough of a shock, but apparently, demons existed. Yeah. Actual Demons. You’ve tried to adjust and find shelter, and a way back home, with no luck. You've been kicked and chased out of villages as mad or an ill omen (For washing your hands so often???), and you've escaped death and harm so often you swear there is either a deity who favors you, or favors your eternal anxiety over this whole situation.

It was by complete chance that you stumbled upon the Lord, in which you listed your capabilities and usefulness with the frazzled energy of a court jester at threat of beheading, the first demon to not drool and try to devour you on sight. 

He cut off your rambling with an odd head tilt and a ‘accompany me then,’ despite the furious squawking from the green imp you've come to know as Jaken. You just grinned, relieved at finally finding yourself secure in this foreign place, and followed along. 

You’re fine doing chores, or calling him Lord, in return for protections and shelter. You've learned how to talk in a 'appropriate manner for a woman' as the Lord ordered, but sometimes you push your luck–but you can’t help it! That reckless attitude followed you from your first life to this one, and that silky pale hair was just sooo pretty not to touch, and the barely perceptible shock in his eyes when you call him by his given name, no honorifics, is worth being forced to walk on foot for a few (dozen) miles. 

Perhaps he might have thought of killing you, a few times, the sniveling thing that you were, if you hadn't piqued his interest with your charming and witty banter...that he often rewarded by cutting your rations.

He’s gotten more lenient about it now when you ‘slip up’ and you think it's like an exposure therapy sort of thing. Except the exposure part is friendship, which you think he’s never had before. It is something the both of you have to adjust to, him, with your friendship! You, with the fact that you were most likely never going home and that demons exist, and probably, subsequently, Hell. Existential crises for everyone, yay...

Yet, another thing that was hard to adjust to was…your monthlies, Things were thrown out of wack when you landed here; Your circadian cycle, sense of appropriate social interaction, your menstration, etc, so it all took a few odd weeks to come back. Your period, that is you still don't know how to talk to people or wake up early. When that happened, Sesshoumaru had already been eyeing you strangely for days you swear, even if you never really caught him in the act.

It was only when he made himself scarce, did you recall how your friend's dogs could smell your stuffs before you even could, and you promptly wanted to cringe yourself out of existence. He’s an Inuu Youkai. Dog demon.

The blood stuff started, you freaked, and Sesshoumaru promptly disappeared far ahead, leaving you to the sneering and bemoaning of Jaken. You didn't have your preferred toiletries or heating pads or anything! It was never a fun time.

The only thing that hinted to Sesshoumaru’s continued presence was the corpses of demons left in his wake, drawn in by the heavy scent of your blood, the thick trail you had left behind. He started shutting you up in an inn somewhere whenever the time comes along now, even if he’s more often late than not, which was still… oddly considerate? Well, one time you all were too far inland so you had to huddle up in a cave and that was not a good time.

Futon and tatami mats might not be a duvet, comforter and down pillows, but it was much better than a cave.

As you’re thinking, Rin trots into the room, and you brighten, immediately waving her over. Joining the group the girl was a selective mute, speaking a few precious words here and there. Surprisingly, even with Sesshoumaru being the Leader of this group and you being her favorite (obviously), the one she spoke the most often to was Jaken. She trailed and played with him often, even if the imp would call it more tormenting.

Still, the girl has done wonders on brightening this dull little group, and you adore her more than you thought you would. 

Rin’s eyes light up with familiarity, and she skips over, plopping in your lap. You let out an exaggerated huff.  

“Woah, I think someone had a bit too much to eat at dinner…” She pouts, shakes her head.

“Really? Because it seems like you put on a few pounds already…” She shakes her head harder and kicks her feet, so naturally you reach to tickle her toes. She screeches in laughter as you hold her in place and count off the little stubs.

“This little piggy went to market, This little piggy stayed home. This little piggy got roast beef, This little piggy had none. And this little piggy cried, ‘Wee, wee, wee!’ all the way home!”

“What sort of nursery rhyme is that?” Jaken sneers as he trots inside.

“What kind of stank face is that?” you snap back. Rin gasps against you, trying to get her breath back, and flinches back in laughter as you fake-reach for her feet again.

Tiring her out and settling into bed is easy enough, and you regale Rin with one of the many tales of your world. You tell her about electricity and skyscrapers, blimps and airplanes and lakes within caves, caves with pink salt and love stories and anything that you can recall. Even Jaken doesn't interrupt, content to sit along and listen to your tales.

In no time at all, Rin droops against you, breathing evenly, eyes barely slitted open in that way that all young children fall asleep. Jaken snores in his corner, that creepy two headed staff in his arms, but you’ve all gotten used to that so you ignore him. Slowly, and carefully, you tuck Rin in, and move to blow out the oil lamp.

But Sesshoumaru is already there, staring down at the both of you, and you jump.

“...!!”  Putting a fist over your pounding heart, you just manage not to scream, and you frown at the Lord.

“You almost scared me into a heart attack!’ You hiss. You can swear he rolls his eyes– but the motion is too swift.

“Humans and their weak organs.” 

“And yet we’ve managed to survive this long, and longer yet.”

“Yes, like crickets. Or roaches.”

“Hey,” you frown. “A roach can survive nuclear fallout. You and I, however, cannot.” He rolls his eyes again, and you definitely catch it, and maybe this time you were meant to.

Rin snores gently, and his eyes are drawn. “These inane stories you tell the child are senseless and impractical.” 

“She likes them, they ease her. You know she’s been having nightmares recently–that last batch of demons brought back some…bad memories.” Sesshoumaru had told you how he had come to keep the girl, after he brought her back to life with Tenseiga. 

You know you’re not the only one who cares for her. Sometimes, if you’re keen enough, you would look over and catch the Lord looking over the child.

She’s be caught in some silly antic, like trying to braid flowers into A-un’s double mane, or refashion Jaken’s clothes to something more fashionable; And the Lord wouldn't smile or laugh no, the Demon is a practically made of marble, but there would be a fondness in his eyes. Then he'd catch you looking and that stony wall would slide back up.

But that did a lot to humanize him in your eyes (ha). He liked to gift both you and the girl new clothes in bright colors, and on especially good days, he would pretend to be asleep as she braids his hair. Jaken would critique her technique and flower placement, it was very found-family core.

You only caught that once though and you bemoan your loss of modern photography. You would’ve loved to get that on camera.

“The stories help get her mind off of that. And did you say ‘impractical’? I would say they’re inspiring–maybe she’ll reinvent planes and be the next Amelia Earheat, traveling the world.”

He cocks his head down at you. “And what exactly happened with this woman, did she live a fulfilling life?”

“Uh, no…whilst trying to become the first woman to complete a circumnavigational global flight, she and her navigator, Fred Noonan disappeared over the central Pacific Ocean.”

“Hence, why women should stay in the home.”

You scowl. “She didn't fail because she was a woman, she failed because she ran out of fuel for her plane. And if you must be misogynistic, she had a man with her!”

“Who let her take lead. Hence, their death.”

You click your tongue. “The inventions of women have revolutionized the world! Wireless transmission technology, central heating, kevlar fabric, the fire escape, mint ice cream; Women can be just as capable if given room to thrive.”

He waves your words away. ” I suppose then I shouldn't let you out of my sight, lest you recreate your lightning in a bottle again.”

“It's called electricity. I almost got the hang of it.”

“Hence.” He walks the length of the room, opens the sliding door to look outside of it. He stalks back in a moment later.

“There are no other guests in the inn, and I paid the old woman enough to keep it that way. After these four days we leave for the mountains.”

“Mountains…” You sigh, burying your face in the blankets.

“Can't we just fly over with A-un?”

“No. There are demon nests I must quell inside. We pass through.”

“Ugh,” You groan, flipping over. “Why? It's gonna be so hard…You know, this isn't how I imagined my life to go. So much hardship,” you whine. “If I wanted to climb mountains I would have joined a hiking group up Mount Everest or Fuji or Hiroshima or something…”

“How did you expect your life to be?” You stop your pouting, turning over to look at him, and the light from the oil lamp paints him in shades, a chiaroscuro of silver and gold.

“...What do you mean?”

“What did you expect out of life? Do you have dreams? Or did they die out when you came here?” 

He waits, and you can't seem to muster up the words under the confusion you're under. Staring at him upside down, you wonder, ‘when did you ever want to know about me?’

He’s the one who breaks eye contact first, a harsh sigh pushing past his teeth.  “Never mind.” He reaches inside the lamp and pinches the fire out. The room is enveloped in deepening shadows and cool tones; All moonlight and deep blues, softening into Dawn.

He turns, and his hair swishes, like a curtain of silver. A full moon, gleaming brighter here than the waning one in the lightening sky.

“Go to sleep.”

“...Goodnight, My Lord.”

“To sleep with you.”

_______________

Inu Yokai are more attuned to their senses than most demons.

It is their nature, as dog demons–their senses are what lend them their extra strength in battle, in the company of other demons–and He is a master of them all. He is a pure blooded Daiyōkai, Lord of the Western Lands. It is expected.

He has honed and sharpened and used them like any weapon, and they serve him just fine, as well as any tool or instinct.

He did not expect them to betray him like this.

The scent of your heat is a heavy, disorienting thing–but still weak compared to the true cycle of a female Inu Youkai. But where a female of his kind would enter estrus twice, maybe thrice a year, you enter it every month.

He caught the tell-tale ends of it, the day you stumbled onto his path. Faint and still unripe, rare, and no less precious for it-Omega. You wonder why so many demons chase and clamor after you, and that is why.

He found himself appalled, disgusted. But not surprised. Mortals are weak and slaves to their own biology. Such a rampant cycle must be their evolutionary way of ensuring that their population does not die out. Yet even he has to scoff at the luck you must have had to survive unblemished. A young, unclaimed, unattended Omega, even if they are human? How crass. How delightful. Like impure jade, saturated and cloudy. He keeps you anyway. He wants you anyway.

You fall into slumber easily, but fretfully, and he watches you alternate between a light and deep sleep. It is not pain or discomfort that ails you though, and he tries to tamp down the rumble in his chest at your drawn brow. He wants to soothe it. He wants to slip beside you and savor your heat.

Instead, he settles for brushing your hair back from your face, arranging it in a neat manner so that your neck stays cool, and the child won't step on it in her hurry. You’ll wake up late, more sluggish than the other two, but he’ll excuse you. Rin will rush out first, intent on cooking breakfast, which Jaken would take over, with the innkeeper's aid. You’ll wake up next, blurry eyed and guilty, intent on pulling your weight. He has instructed Jaken to make sure you rest, but recently you’ve cowed the imp into some leniency. He’ll have to check on you.

But he won't be staying in this inn, or around you long if he can help it. The scent of you before was irregular, heady and dark like blood and earth. It's a stroke for his ego (and what does that say about him) that being around an Alpha, a complimentary presentation, has helped you to…stabilize. You must have been surrounded by Betas, to have such a weak scent. But now that it's settled, your scent is something more floral now, mature, warm. ‘Like honeysuckle’, he compares. 

Pungent, thick, slow, very particular. It could be mistaken for jasmine, or vanilla, but no, honeysuckle. The scent thickens now, in your estrus, trails behind you in wafts. Further fuelled by the blood residue of your menstruation. You smell like wounded animal. Maddening, enticing, frustrating. Lovely.

Blasted instincts. They demand he steps forth and assuage them, but you are human. However his urges, no matter this damn longing, you will never be on equal stance, despite your presentation. That is reason enough. It should be reason enough.

Humans like to pretend that they are better than animals, or mindless beasts, but your body relays those basic desires pretty clearly. 

He wants to taste.

Four days. Four days until the worst of this passes, and he can continue on his journey. Perhaps he should have left you for dead, ages ago. Or killed you himself, to prevent anyone else the right. He wouldn't have to deal with this, and you’d still belong to him. 

But he’s not going to kill you now. He’s come too far for that.

He exhales, and slides the door shut seamlessly. It is near dawn, you all arrived rather late, so he will leave you to your slumber. That dizzying scent of yours heckles at his nerves, raises his hackles just the slightest bit–lengthens his teeth and claws, he cannot meditate like this.

He stalks from the inn, irate. There were plenty of low class demons he saw on the way to this backwater village. He needs to shred something apart. He needs to put his claws in something.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

The next morning you wake up late, which is surprising, because usually Rin wakes you up by stepping on your hair rushing out. It lies neat around your face, and you’re left to wonder who did it for you, because it certainly wasn't you. 

Rubbing the dredges of sleep from your eyes, you still as an image comes to mind; A dream, the glint of something sharp, like a whetted knife, and…something else, a soft rattle in the dark. A weight on top of you? But kinda nice, like a warm, weighted blanket in winter. Hm…White scales. The heck?

“Whatever…? Weird dream…” You would have looked up your zodiac sign for any clues in your era, but there are things to be done. The Lord doesn't shut you in an inn so you can idle about. Maybe you can find some chores to help out with.

You shake your head at the images, and get ready for the day. Jaken and Rin are nowhere to be seen, and your body aches sorely like you did a full cardio workout the night before.

You only just finish getting dressed when there's a knock, and the sliding door opens, revealing the innkeeper kneeling beyond it.

“Forgive me for intruding upon you, honored guest. Breakfast is ready in the common area. Or would you prefer to eat in your room?”

“Uh, no, I‘ll head down, thank you..” You follow her down the empty hallways, until you reach the common room. Rin and Jaken have already set up all the plates; Jaken huffs when he sees you, lifting his sleeve to his nose while Rin just beams. You decide to focus on her, Jaken has always had a sore spot with you.

“Good morning Rin! Did you help set this all up?” She nods, before gesturing wildly with her hands, your eyes flitting to catch it all, the odd few words spilling out. You can understand her easily, by now.

“Oh, and you helped cook too? Well why didn't you call me?! I feel horrible that I just slept in while you were working so hard!”

“It wasn’t hard; You would know if you weren't so incompetent. This is just something any person can do.” Jaken lifts his chin in the air, self vindicated, nose still covered. You are not impressed.

“Thank you for the snark, this early in the morning Jaken. Anything else you would like to add?”

He scoffs. “You should be taking my criticism with due gratitude! I mean, what sort of servant sleeps in and doesn’t even help cook breakfast?”

“I am no servant, I am a companion. And so what? Are you going to take breakfast away as my punishment, Jaken?” You smile and take the bowl of rice Rin hands you, lifting an eyebrow.

“Why, I should!”

“But you won't. Because you know the Lord wouldn't approve.” And with that, he shuts up, the click of his teeth snapping together audible. The innkeeper flinches, and draws back.

And, alright, you were only half bluffing; Sesshoumaru would be upset, but only because Jaken has no right to dole out punishments. That's his job.

You see the owner lady bow and start to head out, but you call to her before she could leave.

“Hey, have you eaten yet? You should sit with us.” She smiles politely, shaking her head, still bowing. She isn't that old actually, now that you look at her. Laugh lines and crow's feet, salt and pepper hair. Fifties, perhaps. Her eyes keep flickering towards Jaken, and she breathes shallowly.

“Esteemed guest, I am honored, but I could not dare to impose.”

“I’m asking you to impose. Don’t worry about Jaken, I can punt him like a football at any given opportunity.”

“No you can’t!” Before Rin can fill it, you take your empty teacup and beam it off his head. It lands with a satisfying crack and the imp falls with a sad cry. 

“See? Also, the Lord is the esteemed guest here, not us. And, he’s not here. Please, sit and eat,” you tilt your head, peering just a bit closer at the woman.

“You look tired, actually. Are you alright?” Luckily, it doesn't take much more convincing before she sighs, and slides in the seat next to you, across Rin and Jaken.

“It is fine. There is much to do when you run an inn.”

“But you don't get many customers in this shack of a town, do you?” You glower at Jaken, who flinches back. You turn back to the innkeeper as he mutters something about  “hormones and lady cycles’, in which Rin scolds him for you, and introduce yourself.

“And the little girl here is Rin.”

“H-Hello,” Rin stutters the word out, and bows. You watch the innkeeper for any sign of reproach, but she just smiles and bows back.

“I am pleased to be in such fine company. I am Numachi.” She smiles, and easily looks ten years younger.

“‘Numachi?’” Jaken always has to ruin things though.

“Odd choice for a family name.”

Her brow doesn't furrow, but she closes her eyes, inclines her head. “It was my late husband's name.”

“Well it's still–”

“ANYWAYS,” you cut in before he has another chance to be crude, “Not to validate Jaken, but it does seem you don't have many…patrons. So why do you look so tired?”  She laugh-sighs, shoulders slumping, and the words spill from her, easily, like she's been waiting for someone to lend an ear.

“It was easier when I had my husband and two sons. But… after my husband passed, they left to travel to a more prosperous town, leaving me here…I run the errands by myself now.” You frown.

“They just left you alone when you needed them most?” She shakes her head. “Oh, no, they wanted to bring me along! But I’m much too attached to this place. It’s where I worked and stayed with my husband, after all. They are not far away anyways, they visit me every few months to check in. In fact, I received a letter at the beginning of this month that they would visit soon!” A smile paints her face, before consideration crawls over it; She lifts her sleeve and moves closer to you.

“Though, it's only after the new moon, and for that, I worry less. This post town used to be very prosperous, with many travelers and smaller inns. You can see the wreckage of them further into the town. But there's a demon, who's been eating all the residents for the past twenty years, under the veil of every new moon, and only then. The victims numbers keep increasing as time goes on, and soon…we will also be gone.”

Your mind quickly flashes to Sesshoumaru; The new moon will be soon, but for the next few nights at least, no one would be eaten, the demon wont get close unless they have a death wish. You think to tell her that but she goes on.

 “Now we mostly trade amongst ourselves. It takes such a long time for me to finish all these chores, cleaning the rooms and the bathhouse, checking the hot springs and collecting my small wares to trade, or collecting the things I've traded in advance for.” Numachi-san looks at you, almost conspiratorially, though it's hard on such a soft face as hers.

“I…have traps further upstream the river than anybody goes. It's where you can catch the fattest fish, though I only catch a few every couple of days. It's very far upstream, so that nobody may stumble upon them and steal them, a little aways from the rice paddies Taiga-san owns. Though, I supposed the fish make their own way out of the traps, with how long it takes me to sneak up there.” 

You pick at the fish on the table, seasoned with herbs and salt and vinegar, and take a mouthful of rice. Chew, swallow.

“There isn't much I am currently needed for, or need to do. I'd be happy to help with some chores. And please–” you cut her off, “don’t refuse because of hospitality. It would be kinder for the both of us if you received some help, and I find something to keep myself busy with.” 

Rin immediately bounces up in her seat, rice grains stuck to her cheeks and waving her hand in the air. You laugh.

“And it seems like you have another eager helper too. Three, with Jaken.”

“I did not–” He withers under the blinding smile you shoot his way. 

“So,” you grin back at Numachi-san. Please. what can we do first?”

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

The empty basket bumps against your hip as you rush into the village. Jaken had kicked up a fuss, had wanted you to stay inside, but Rin had wheezed past him, wiping the floor with a rag, and started chasing his feet. While he was distracted, you memorized the list of things you were supposed to get, and made your escape.

The village really was tiny, even in the midst of such a sunny day. In a time when the village should be bustling, people just kept their eyes forward and went about their business. Oh, there was of course the ladies in their tight knit groups, knitting and gossiping. There was the odd maiden who glanced longingly at some fellow or another, a couple cute village boys, all stereotypical bullshit, yeah yeah, but this town felt…hollow.

Or rather, drained. Like an old, cracked egg.

Numachi-san was right, you saw a few wrecked buildings as you made your way through town, following her instructions. They looked old and fragile, like houses made out of matchsticks. You hurried past these buildings, set on your way.

First, you had to get to the apothecary, for the bundle of herbs she owed the innkeeper, then, to old man Taiga for the rice. But the rice paddies were on the other side of town, where the streams ran from. You could get the rice and check on the traps tomorrow. 

Apothecary and cleaning today, rice and fish and cooking tomorrow. 

The apothecary was a small, but a long nook of a place, dimly lit and crowded with plants, hanging vines and drying bundles of other things. The woman who ran it was a frail old lady, white haired, who hardly spoke a word of greeting to you before she dropped an assortment of…things into your basket. You checked it over–expensive things. Honey and pears and mushrooms, spices–Parsley, chrysanthemum, kaiware, …some other plants you haven't been in this era long enough to identify. 

You were just sorting the basket on your arm when the lady slipped a few extra stuffs into your basket.

“Oh, was that also–”

“Extra.” 

“Extra? For wha-” 

“You're bleeding aren’t ya.” A woman of few, but blunt words. All knowing and terrifying in that knowledge. You nod.

She inclined her head towards the basket. “Ginger and ginseng to revitalize and heal the body, make it into a tea. You’re gonna need it, with that Lord of yours.”

“...What about him?” She rolled her eyes, a strange dark oak. 

“Don’t be dense girl. He shut you in that inn for a reason, right? Take advantage! He doesn’t seem the type to wanna go at it in a cave or some sort. “ And she leans in grinning, sharp and white toothed.

“You gotta watch out though, those types are the ones who pretend to be all dignified, but they’re the ones who go at it like beasts.” And yeah oookay you get what she means.

“Oh, no no no no nooo, we’re not here for that. I’m just a companion! And…my period just ended and I need rest, you know?” But she doesn't buy it.

“So you’re not his wife, or concubine?”

“No.”

She nods. “Not yet then. How ‘bout that little girl, she yours?”

“Rin, the child? No, no, we just took her in.”

“We?"  You catch your slip of tongue a moment too late, and flush red. The old lady’s edged eyes seem to stare right through you, sharp and inscrutable, as she grinds and cuts her herbs.

“Having trouble carrying that Lord’s child then, are you? That why you adopted her–”

“Goodness, no! I said it’s not like that!  She is just…part of the group.” Even that sounds weak to your ears, and you start to back out of the shop.

“‘A companion’...” She clicks her tongue. “How naive. He’s a high class demon and a man. You’re either a snack or a concubine, and with that sweet young scent and body, you might end up as both. Best take advantage before then."

"What?"

"If you're on or near off your bleeding, you're at your most fertile. If he hasnt already he's gonna try to pop a litter in ya." You make a sound of disgust and she rolls her eyes like a grandmother at an unruly child.

“Listen, I’m a part of this group. He's not that depraved to do that, you dont know what you’re talking about!” You're shocked at the volume of your voice, bouncing off the walls, and the most this lady offers you in a raised bow.

“Ah, I see. You like him but you’re scared–of what? Or is it a pride thing?”

“I don’t-”

“You're naive, but not clueless then. But pride is an easy price to pay for a good life. Make a move if you haven't already. Seems he already cares for ya, if he’s feeding ya and shutting you in an inn for your bleedings.”

“It's a two way street sort of thing. I get rest and he doesn't have to fight all the demons attracted to the blood.”

“Really? Well I bet he gets the days wrong, always shuts you up when the bleedings already ending. Leaves lots of bodies on the way too for ya, huh? It's like when my kitty brings me birds; It's about proving strength and showing he can provide. Demon and a man, remember?”

“You don't know him like I do. You don't know anything.”

“I know most women don't get a choice between comfort or a pleasant partnership; you got the chance for both and you’re not making any moves. If I was young as you I'd kill to take your place. Many women have.”

“So I should, on their behalf? He’s arrogant and aloof and looks down on humans,” you counter. “Why would he want me?”

“He’s sympathetic enough to take in a human woman and child and an imp, so maybe he’s not all that. Maybe you should ask why exactly he shuts you up. Or why you want him in the first place?” She resumes her chopping, the scent wafting up as bitter and sharp as her eyes. She pauses.

“If you live to make a decision, come back here. I got things to help you, whether you want to give him a baby or not.” She doesnt look up as you scoff, or run out the shop. You try to cast her words from your mind.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

It got your mind running though.

“Numachi-san,” The innkeeper elegantly turns her head towards you, prime and ready to serve. It kinda irks you, her effortless grace and subservience but you ignore that.

“Why do you think the Lord dropped us off here?”

“Hm?” She tilts her head. “Honored guest…I wouldn't dare to presume, it is not my place.” 

“I'm asking you to presume. I won't hold any offense, so please.” Her eyes slowly slid over to Jaken, who was busy telling Rin off for the mess she was making. Rin just grins him away. 

Numachi-san slides over to your side, lifting her sleeve to cover her mouth.

“Well, if I may be audacious…Are you not the Lord’s wife?” You would choke, if the apothecary had not shocked you with this presumption earlier.

She hesitantly went on as you remained silent.

“The Lord has demanded your comfort. You rode in on the back of a mule demon with the child, and you were…bleeding. I saw the spotting. Oh, honored guest, do I go too far?” You shake your head, waving your hand at the crease in her brow.

“No, it's a...reasonable idea to come to. But it is none of that, I assure you.”

“Oh? You are a…servant of the Lord then? How generous he is.” Generous is the last thing you would call him but you can't find the words to correct her.

Curiosity pokes at you. “Numachi-san, sorry if this is too much for you, but what was your husband like? Was he kind to you?”

She bursts into laughter, and the sound of it is so sudden and bitter, your eyes widen. She looks at you with something like pity, like you’re some young thing.

“Kindness is a rare thing in this world, honored guest. That's why we call it graciousness– because it always comes at a price. No, my husband was not kind, but he was gracious.” Her eyes seem so far away, and she sighs in ages past.

“He helped me with the hotsprings and the fish traps upstream. Getting firewood and supplying the inn with whatever we needed, rice, grain, barley, herbs, meat.  My sons, when they were young, preferred to help me inside, at least until the younger twin started joining his father outside more often. They both didn't like people that much, busybodies. It was very crowded in those days so I understand.” And her eyes flick to the sides.

“But my husband…I cared for him, and he protected me. I’ve always been a frail thing, so I think he took it as ensuring my safety. I wasn’t madly in love with him as I was in my youth, but we enjoyed each other's company, which is more to be said then most marriages. Even so, after my sons were born…My duty as a mother overrode my duties as a wife. Not that it ever amounted to much, now that they all left me…” Another sigh, just pushing a small sob, her lipid eyes wet.

Wife. You’d never be a wife, in this era at least. Much less a willing mother. The chance of finding a decent partner that won't try and force you into domesticity is low, and lower still with the chances of Seshoumaru ever letting you go. 

If you asked him, would he let you go? Maybe as you get older. Maybe if you ever found a way back to your world. But what about Rin? It's not like you could take her with you. 

That night, after Rin has fallen asleep after another tale, you go wandering to the end of the hall, where the more opulent rooms lay. It's been unoccupied, but waiting a few minutes in the room yields results; Sesshoumaru appears as if he teleported, face forever calm and blank.

“What are you doing in my room?” The room you haven't been using? You want to snort, but rein that particular response in.

“Forgive me my Lord,” you incline your head. “I just had a bit of an…inquiry I wanted to bring to you.”

“And what ‘inquiry’ do you bring me?” 

To your credit, you only hesitate for a second at the infliction in his voice. Almost a challenge, but with none of the wariness to suggest he expects any real threat from you. You press.

“Why do you send us to an inn during my bleedings?”

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

It's not a particularly shocking question, but he wonders why you asked it. And why his pulse spiked ever so slightly.

“The blood scent attracts demons.”

“...Forgive me my Lord, but you are strong enough to deal with them; The corpses you leave behind are plain evidence. And I suppose it's more than that…” So you noticed. You bite the nail of your thumb, already red and agitated like it's a habit, which it is. He wants to tell you to stop, you don't need to lose any more blood than you already have. 

“It's just…We always stay at an inn towards the end of my period, always. If it's the blood that attracts predators, why not shut me up while I'm bleeding then? I know you…scout farther ahead but I bet you can tell when or before it starts, with your superior senses. We can plan better for this, y’know.”

How nonchalant, so self satisfied you seem with yourself that you meet his eyes head on. But as he stands there, holding your gaze like water in his palm, some shame finally finds you, its red flush crawling over your neck and ears and face. 

How lovely. “You don't know, do you?” Your shame, that is.

“Huh?” Even now, honey wafts throughout the room. It's all he can smell–blood residue and earth, honeysuckle and moonlight. He inhales so slowly, so carefully, to not disturb it, lest it spreads throughout the room and stick to everything.

“I don't know…what?” He doesn't answer you. He looks about; certainly one of the better rooms, still paling in comparison for his tastes. The futon has not been brought out, good. He doesn't need any more temptations. 

How clueless you are to his yearning, desire let sit to simmer for gods know how long.

Maybe from when you first stumbled onto his path, or how he noticed you never cowered near Jaken nor A-un, or even him; Cautious, but never fearful. Perhaps when your scent mellowed out with the addition of the child, or when you handed her flowers to braid in his hair. He wonders what the both of you would have done, had he dropped the farce of sleep, content to breathe in milk and honey. Would you jump back in shock, the child in your arms, or would you have grinned cheekily, teeth and all?

You're going to be the bane of his existence.

As he gazes about the room, he strides over to you in that way that makes you falter; Too swift and smooth to look like anything more than gliding, the illusion of being too fast to track as he stands before you; He tilts his head at the little squeak that leaves your lips as you stand eye to eye with his shoulder pauldron. 

Everything about you screams acquiescence, submission, fertility. Your smell, the extra luster to your hair, the extra plump to your face and hips….

He sighs. He finds himself pressing the flat of his tongue against his fangs, the roof of his mouth, to catch that cloying fragrance. There is a sort of fondness he holds for you that he is not sure is wise, nor gentle; It's a kind of fondness that demands both your tears and your desperation. 

“Attend to me.”

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

“Attend to me.” 

You mind blanks, before you spring into action. He walks over to the low table and seats himself, while you try to figure out how to take off his metal shoulder pad..thingy. It's attached by these red ropes, which are attached to that other black metal petal…thingy–wait, you should probably undo that yellow sash first. And that fluffy cape (it's sooo fluffy. But also literally alive? What is it?)

Sesshoumaru doesn't aid nor correct you, he hardly sighs as you fumble about, shutting his eyes as you work. He inhales deeply, once. He must be tired. Maybe that's why he’s entertaining you and not throwing you out the room. There's been a few close calls of that, so you know the warning signs- he emits none of them. He’s calm.

Finally, you get to that cherry blossom patterned Kimono, a crisp white and red pattern. Expensive. Hm. You wonder what his thread count is. Must be high. He lifts a hand as you hesitate for his undershirt; He just loosens the collar (and, skin!), and gestures towards the sake on the table that just suddenly appeared, a single cup to match.

As you pour it, a thought pops into your head.

“You can repair your armor and clothing with demonic energy, yes?” He actually raises an eyebrow, but only by a few millimeters. “Yes. And?”

So you couldn’t just like…Magic it all off?

You only shake your head and pour the alcohol into the flat sakazuki cups. He takes it from you and drains it immediately, and you refill it quickly. He drinks, and you look him over.

Your eyes trail down his form, not for pleasure, (because yeah, he’s beautiful, but he’s so beautiful it’s kinda scary, you know?), your eyes fall to the empty sleeve of his left arm, and you sober. 

He had dropped you off in some village one day, where you stood for a few days. Jaken was the one to retrieve you, and you came back to a demon lord with one less arm and a tiny child with matted hair. You did your best, but you were only able to fix one of those.

He catches your gaze before you can tactfully retreat, and his eyes narrow, daring you.

You cringe back. “Okay, okay, no need for the death glare. Just…curious.”

His unspoken question prompts you to answer.

“Just…um…Does it feel any different?” It's stupid even before it leaves your mouth, and you see the growing irritation in the set of his mouth, You set down the sake to wave your hands.

“No, no, I mean…! Like, there's stories, from my era I mean, and other stories from before obviously, but amputees each recall their experience differently. One thing that's common though is this thing called Phantom limb; It's like…they have the feeling of still having their limb, even though it is not there. I was just curious if you had…experienced that…” Your voice trails off, meek.

When you look up, he’s looking at the loose sleeve. His hair covers whatever expression he wore before he turns back to the lowrise table.

“Oftentimes, I could swear my hand would be curled, but when I look it is still gone.” A clawed hand raises itself, and removes the shoulder of his undershirt, revealing the ragged scar marring the milkiest skin you ever saw. 

“It aches, and not just the old wound. Phantom limb is accurate. I have to look and remind myself of what I lost.”

You try not to wince. “At least you have your life. I wouldn’t say you lost.” Nobody said anything of what happened to him, how he got so injured. You had to bribe Jaken with some rice cakes to even know it was another inu youkai, or hanyo, as Jaken sneered, so it's kinda scary to think there are demons stronger than the Lord in front of you, whose face and skin is smooth, but his eyes stony, like gilded marble.

“No, I lost that battle.” Sore loser then? You shrug.

“Well, I count it as a victory if I’m still alive at the end of it all.” And your impassive Lord actually snorts, closing his eyes.

“Spoken like a true loser then. Weakling.”

“Yes, and a coward. But alive still.” Silence threatens to fall, so you rush before it. 

“Could you, possibly, regrow it?” He is a demon after all…

But his fist unclenches, settles back in his lap. His face is calm again, like a freshwater lake.

“There is something halting that.”  And still, Silence falls like a dull knife.

This time, he takes the sake bottle and serves himself, quickly downing the drink and serving himself another. Are…demons impervious to the effects of human alcohol or…?

Maybe he’s just trying to get plastered???

Slowly, an idea forms in your head, so slowly, solidifying like fog. You act on it before you can lose the courage, opening your mouth to recite.

“Countless,

My Lord, are the years

That stretch before you;

In such an illustrious house,

A dewdrop is what I would be”

…People in this era are big on poetry, right? They’re not supposed to look at you like you just spoke in a dead language, right? 

“That is Ise no Miyasudokoro. You know of her, in your modern era?” You ignore the snide.

“I was in college, working on getting my Master’s degree. One of my electives was a poetry course.” You shrug. “So yes, I know of her.”

He affords you a look, an actual look; He checks the planes of your face and the depths of your eyes, and you don't know what he's looking at exactly, but he responds,

“The everlasting (moon):

Growing in its midst

Is my home, so

In its light alone

Can I place my trust.”

Oh! You perked up at the mention of a moon, y'know, people here really like using it as a metaphor, another poem ready at your lips;

“As a general rule

I would not praise the moon

For it

Piles upon men

The burden of increasing age.”

“And now Ariwara no Narihira? Was he also part of your curriculum?” You notice it, the regard in his voice, like a drop of paint in a glass of water, settling.

“Anyone interested in literature can't skip over Ariwara. He’s a classic.” Again, bluffing a little; your teacher passed him over very briefly, and you hate leaving any stone unturned, so you did some research on your own. (And thank goodness)

“I know of him and his work, but he is far from my favorite. Do you, perhaps…hold any favor to a poem in particular?”  

A nail, long and sharp, trails the flat rim of the sake glass. He seems to be contemplating, before he answers you in that impassive voice of his, even and toneless.

“In the summer mountains

From the treetop heights

Cuckoos’

Calls fill the sky

As does my love.”

Oh wow… “Ki no Turayuki? That's oddly…passionate.”

“Do you think I'm incapable?”

“Of passion?” What a loaded question. “No my Lord just…restrained.”

“I prefer…longanimous.”  You laugh at that.

“What adversity do you face to show such restraint then,  Lord Sesshoumaru? The world is already at the tips of your fingers.” He doesn't answer, but drinks. The silence that sails in is more weighted than you expected, and you regret your choice of words, already. Maybe he would have spoken of these ordeals. Was it the alcohol, or is the Lord being more…indulgent this night?

You turn your head, and notice the shoji door left ajar. So you stand, and draw it back, letting the night breeze filter throughout the room. It's nice. The perfect temperature, and the moon is just short of a perfect waning crescent. Soon there will be a new moon, and there will be no demons attacking this month. How lucky.

“Poems from the Sengoku era focus mostly on the tanka and renga format. In my era of modern technology, there is access to many forms of poetry, from all over the world. It's hard for me to pick a favorite.”

“Indecisive as always.”

“Oh, is that mirth I hear? I consider myself enamored with the written word. Even if I can only remember bits and pieces, from here and there.”

“Then what can you remember?”

“Bits and pieces,” you repeat, “lines and quotes. And if I must recite them rapid-fire I  fear I’ll only prove redundant.”

“I want to hear you, nevertheless.” You have to calm yourself, otherwise you fear your heart will leap out instead of your words if you speak. You wrestle it back down your throat, but there's still a tremor in your voice.

“Bits and pieces, hm?...It is late now, I am a bit tired; the sky is irritated by stars. And I love you, I love you, I love you – and perhaps this is how the whole enormous world, shining all over, can be created – out of five vowels and three consonants’, by Vladirmir Nabokov. Nizar Qabbani, ‘Because my love for you reaches higher than words, I've decided to fall silent.’ Venetta Octavia, ‘I say your name and it feels like aching, feels like paradise’. Andrea gibson, ‘come teach me a kinder way to say my own name.’  ‘Will you remember that i existed, and that I stood next to you here like this?’” 

“That last one was by Haruki Murakami,” you sigh. “...You can imagine, I got high grades for my poetry  elective.” You try to laugh, to make light of this moment, but it feels stilted and awkward.

The cool air stings a little as you breathe, but you hold it in, and exhale. And when you look up, you jolt.

He finishes closing the last bit of distance, looks down at you from his imposing height. How old is he…? His face you wouldn't call youthful, despite its softness. It's those eyes- they’re too pointed.

“Do I displease you, my lord?”

“No, you do not.” A knuckle taps at your head. “But your denseness frustrates me.”

“You mean…?” He rolls his eyes, a soft snarl building in his throat.

“You are not one for subtlety, are you.” His nails, like razors hovering closer. You could shiver, and not from the cold. Not from fear. Even when that strange hesitancy of his melts beneath a scowl, and he reaches forward more assuredly, yes, but rougher too. You speak before he touches you.

“You don’t have to hurt me, y’know.” His eyes streak back to yours, breathless and bright at your own boldness.

“You don't have to hurt me to justify touching me. You can just…”

Slowly, you tip your face into the open plane of his palm, cool, like all the rest of him, you’d imagine. His fingers flex, his hands so large that his nails brush your hairline. 

His hand isn’t smooth, it’s rough and calloused and cold, but the coolness feels nice. So you press your face closer and use your hands to hold it there.

You don't expect the sharp exhale, or for when he pulls you closer, and you jolt at the suddenness. A finger strokes at the hairs on the back of your neck and you shiver, again.

“I’m disciplined enough to restrain my desires, not curb them when they are released.” And just as quickly as he pulled you close, he let you go. “Tell me now. I won't have a tearful servant girl in my bed; You must be willing or not at all.” He almost sighs the words, continuous and melodious in that voice.

Is it taking advantage, if you give in? Lust was easy, easier to indulge.

You aren’t going to deny the butterflies you stomp down, in these quiet moments. And these moments aren’t infrequent– whether you continue to talk around a dying fire at a campsite, or taking shelter for a storm within a cave. It was a bit of a girl crush you had on the Lord, and you could give in, very willingly.

But should you? What would the ramifications be…?

“I…” And you pause, because you hear something. You perk up, turning back to the door you came from. You listen, both of you, and then you hear it again–muffled cries. Rin is having another nightmare.

“My Lord, Rin is…” You hesitate to go, the moment clinging to you like a mist, but then you hear your name.

You’re already detangling yourself from his hold and making your way towards the door when you remember yourself, and turn to bow towards your Lord.

“I’m sorry, I have to go make sure Rin is…” He waves you off, turns towards the open window where you can't see his face, see him gather himself.

“Yes. Go. See to her.”     

You nod and step back, but a part of you feels off, leaving him like this. What timing.

“I’m sorry for taking up so much of your time, but I haven't told you my favorite poem yet, my Lord. I hope we can continue this conversation at another time.” You bow, one last time, before you hurry out.

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

Sesshoumaru sighs, viscous longing in his chest like hunger pains.

How dense are you? Must he lay out each of his desires for you for you to understand? You speak words of affection so easily, that when he does the same they fall upon deaf ears. He is not one to be overt. You are horrible at looking in between the lines, though.

It is wrong to feel this way over a human. Weak things, inherently inferior, yes, but perhaps you are all the more enchanting for it. It would be more unnatural if he were to let you be, to not taste the salt of your skin or the honey that wafts from you. The hint of arousal he caught, when he towered over you. You are an Omega in heat. He is an Alpha. What else is there? You serve him anyways, should you not be rewarded so?

His skin crawls, where it has touched yours.

And still, that honeyscent sticks throughout the room.

A/N: Was the poetry a bit too on the nose? I feel like sesshoumaru isnt the type for grand dispalys of affection or confession, he's way more lowkey lol. But here are the poems I used in order.

Ise/ Ise/ Narihira/ Ki No Tsurayuki/

[skaiylus]

𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐆𝐢𝐫𝐥 - 𝐑𝐮𝐦𝐢 𝐔𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐲𝐚𝐦𝐚 (𝐌𝐢𝐫𝐤𝐨) 𝐱 𝐜𝐡𝐮𝐛𝐛𝐲 𝐟𝐞𝐦 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Re-upload of an old piece I did for two collabs (chubby chasers collab by @/kyovtani & stay soft collab by @/touyaspeach). [NSFW-18+]. Minors and ageless blogs dni (I will block you)

Mirko sends you a picture of her at the gym & you get a bit self conscious. She reminds you that you'll always be her petty girl. [AO3]

The gym is eerily silent this morning. The usual buzz of people working out is replaced by the clattering of keyboard keys as the receptionist, Akira oversees the administration. She’s grateful for the silence but can't help but wonder why she's having such a slow start today. She stares at the empty studio,furrowing her brows she quickly dismisses her thoughts as she sifts through her emails.

Her tranquillity is soon interrupted by beeping from the revolving doors - indicating someone's just checked in. Akira looks up from her computer to see Japan's 5th hero - Mirko.

"Good morning, Mirko!" she greets excitedly.

"Sorry for the confusion but I thought you'd be in for your regular 3 o'clock session? “ Akira apologises checking her profile on the system.

"Hi hun sorry it must've slipped my mind I meant to call yesterday and reschedule.I have to attend that stupid hero gala today.” Mirko sighs as she tucks her membership card in her bag.

Oh, the hero gala! that explains why anyone isn't here. They’re getting ready, Akira thinks.

"No problem at all, I hope you enjoy the gala!"

"Thank you hun, but it's a big waste of time. I’d rather spend my time working and getting stronger. I mean who wants to be interviewed by people who just want to get under your skin?"

Akira acknowledges Rumi by nodding.

"Sorry you have to deal with the press being so rude. Just know us civilians appreciate you - thank you for your service"

Rumi smiles in response and slips into the studio - she appreciates the comment but truly doesn't care about what the public thinks of her.

Mirko is tough and fierce, especially to the public eye. She has a brash demeanour and laughs in the face of danger. She’s a hero, it’s her job to save people not to impress them.

Rumi is fit, she follows a strict exercise routine every day with no expectations - even a stupid hero gala. Although she enjoys carrots, she tries to have a balanced diet - unlike the cliche she doesn't "eat like a rabbit"

Mirko starts doing some warmup exercises - she switches between the treadmill and spin bike for a while before moving on to the calf and leg machines - these ensure she doesn't get any cramps.

Her favourite and most vigorous part of her routine included bench presses and hip thrusts. She’d even put some men to shame with how easily she does it.

It may look like she isn't breaking a sweat, but her heart is racing. It makes her veins feel like they're on fire and leaves her a little breathless. The only other time she feels like this is with you, her sweet y/n.

Mirko swears she doesn't have a type. Looks are not important to her but she can't help but gravitate towards chubby people. She thinks they're all so unique - just like the stretch marks that adorn their soft skin.

Society is cruel but your weight doesn’t define how "attractive" or how "healthy" you are. Just like the saying: "The bigger the figure, the more I can love.” Rumi thinks knows being chubby just means there's more of you to love.

There's nothing more that Mirko loves than to pick you up, as if you weigh nothing, and look into your eyes. She's constantly teasing you - yet also reassuring you - that she can handle your weight. Her bench presses, hip thrusts and lifts are double or sometimes triple what you weigh. If only you could see yourself from her perspective. Maybe then you'd understand how stunning you are.

Rumi is only satisfied with her workout when she's drenched in sweat and her muscles ache. Before showering she snaps a picture to send to you. Her left hand is up showing off her muscles and her abs are on full display. The sweat is still trickling down her toned body and her gym outfit - that she designed - hugs her in all the right places.

She sends you the picture saying "See something you like, baby bun? 😏😉"

The sunlight streams through your slightly parted curtain and illuminates your shared bedroomp. Rolling over to Rumi's side of the bed you sigh at the empty space. You move the pillows and blankets aside to locate your phone. Ignoring all your other notifications you smile seeing a message from Rumi.

Opening it you try typing a reply but can't form coherent sentences. You wake up, sit at the edge of the bed and stare at the picture of your gorgeous girlfriend and simply reply with a string of emojis 😍😍😍🥵🥵🥵

The longer you stare at the picture you realise it makes you feel a bit anxious and insecure. Rumi has an athletic body and a lot of muscle. You know you shouldn't compare your body type because all bodies are good bodies but you start to feel ashamed about your physique.

You don't have toned abs - instead, you have a plump tummy. Your thighs stick together and are covered in stretch marks and cellulite. Your arms aren't muscular at all; they're a bit flabby. You have back rolls and love handles. You don't have a perfect figure with big boobs or a fat ass - you don't fit the ideal description of being "curvy.” You have body hair, which is something natural, yet society is disgusted by it.

Dating Rumi feels magical and surreal. The only difficult things were dealing with the public and your own insecure thoughts. You try not to let the comments get to you, but some are so harsh.

Things like:

"Oh, so you're a hero huh? I thought the Commission was strict about training?"

"What makes you think you're cut out to be a hero, especially with Mirko? Can you even keep up with her? Didn’t think she'd be into someone bigger than her”

“ I'm pretty sure she said she doesn't need a sidekick especially not someone as useless as you"

"You're not exactly that 'graceful' why don't you pursue something else. Something more suitable for someone of your form?"

People have always doubted you. They’ve always questioned if you were cut out to be a hero. People have made you feel so different and alienated all because of your weight. You feel the hot tears stream down your cheeks. Using the back of your hand you try to wipe them away.

As if on cue Rumi comes home and due to her acute hearing from her quirk, she hears your sobs from the front door.

She drops her bag, slams the door and sprints towards your bedroom hoping you're not in danger. She's ready to pounce on the villain - fists clenched and teeth bared- but instead sees you. She takes a moment to gather herself before calmly making her way to your crying figure.

"Hey baby bun everything is alright" she assures.

She can be so soft and caring - a real 360 from what she was moments ago. Grabbing the tissues and water bottle from the bedside table she hops on the bed and sits next to you

"N-N-No it's not" you stutter, shaking and trying to hold back tears.

Rumi shushes you as she wipes your tears away. She holds the water bottle and helps you drink as well as take deep breaths in sync with hers until you're able to calm down. She holds you against her chest - you can hear her heart racing.

"Who made my baby bun upset?" Rumi asks as her ears and voice drop in pure concern.

"Me... I made myself upset" you admit.

"It's just…" you trail off avoiding eye contact

"Why do you love me? I'm not fit like you, I'm just me I'm fat -"

"HEY that's enough! “Rumi cuts you off.

"I didn't mean to startle you but you're fucking perfect! “ she exclaims

She feels her heart break into a million pieces. How long have you been keeping all this inside? Why haven't you told her - if someone was bothering you, they'd be dead because no one's hurting what's precious to Mirko.

Rumi has an idea, and her ears shoot up.

"Wait a minute I can show you! Come here bun" Rumi gestures for you to sit at the edge of the bed.

You don't know what she's up to but follow her regardless. She opens the closet door and you're met with the full body mirror inside.Immediately you look away and try to hide your dishevelled appearance.

"Come on my pretty girl, don’t hide from me, wanna see your cute face" Rumi says, making you look in the mirror.

"You know what I see when I look into the mirror? The most gorgeous girl in the world. You’re a cutie - a soft and cuddly one too. Being chubby doesn't mean you're greedy, ugly, or out of shape bunny. I love you just the way you are, and I'll always love you for you. I’ll do anything to make you realise that you are perfect just the way you are." Rumi says.

"You really think so" you sniffle looking up at her with teary eyes.

"Of course, baby. I mean every word! But you know what they say, actions speak louder than words. Let me show you what I love about you.“

Rumi tilts your chin up so you're looking at her.

"First off all I love all of you. Every single inch of you. Let's start from up her" Rumi kisses your forehead.

"You are so smart, talented,creative and so strong. I know your brain can be a meanie sometimes but I'm going to Lunar kick all those negative thoughts away" - the two of you giggle.

Rumi cups your face in her hands - her rough palms contrast your soft face.

"You are stunning - mesmerising actually. Your eyes - even though they're a little red now- remind me of the prettiest gemstones. Your lips are soft,sweet and so kissable" Rumi says, placing her chapped lips against yours.

"And of course, who can forget these adorable cheeks" she says while teasingly pinching and squishing them.

There are no bad intentions behind her touches or words purely love and admiration.

"Rumi I -"

"Sweetheart I'm not done yet. I want to praise all of you from head to toe." Rumi cuts you off.

"Your arms are perfect. When you hug me or cuddle me-it makes me feel like I'm at home." Rumi says hugging you.

"You know it'd be better if you're naked." Rumi mumbles pulling away from the hug.

"RUMI DON'T BE SO BLUNT!" you squeal. You feel the blood warm up your cheeks and both of you giggle again.

You hesitated at first but then realised it's just Rumi - the only person you'd leave yourself so open. The only one you will allow you to see you so bare - not only your body but your soul.

She tugs at the hem of your - her- shirt and asks if she can remove it. She does the same to your bottoms. You agreed but only if she takes hers off as well. She does and it makes you clench your thighs together.

Positioning herself on the bed and in front of the mirror she gestures for you to straddle her toned thigh.

"I can't sit there ill -"

"You'll what? Hurt me or something? Think I can't handle it? “She chuckles.

"Come sit. Now. “she instructs.

You know better than to keep her waiting, so you try and hover over her thigh. Only for her to grip the curve of your hips and pull you onto her.

"I said sit not hover bun. I hope you don't try to do that if I ask you to sit on my face.“ Her tone is dangerously low and makes your tummy pool with heat.

"Look how good we look together," Rumi says. You can't focus - not when your soft body is pressed against her strong one. You’re already soaked, and she hasn't even touched you yet. You can't bring yourself to look at the mirror, so you nuzzle your head into her neck.

"You're even cuter when you're squirming. Didn't know that was possible ”she teases.

As you wiggle your hips your clit catches on her muscular thigh, and you stifle back a moan. She flexes her thigh in response.

“Not yet bun”

She holds you in place and turns you so face the mirror once again.

"Your body is perfect.Look at your boobs so what if they're not perky or even? Mine aren't either" Picking your hand up she places it on her boobs.

"And this tummy… where do I even begin. It's not disgusting -it helps keep you nourished. It’s got stretch marks on it and so does mine “she moves your hand down from her chest, along her abs and across her stretch marks.

"Rumi, you're stunning “you whisper. She stretches her fingers over yours and pulls your hand closer so she can hold it.

"So are you, baby. I wanna take care of you.Bun there's so much I have to say. I could go on for hours talking about the reasons I love you - not only your body but your mind ,your soul but right now… I just want to worship your body a little ”

Slipping away from you she kneels on the cool tiled floor and settles between your thighs. You’re flustered by her comments, but your eyes follow the way she moves.

When her fluffy ears tickle you, your sweet laughter fills your shared bedroom. Rumi finally lets go of your hand with a kiss as she massages your thighs.

"So soft, pillowy, absolutely stunning" She traces her fingertips along your stretch marks. She runs her hands along the soft chub of your hips and all the way down to your calves finally settling her hands back on your thighs.You shiver at her soft touches - it makes your body feel electrified.

"Mind if I mark 'em up a little?"

"Mmh" is all you can respond with

"I need words baby. Are you in the mood for this & want me to continue?"

"Y-yes it's okay"

"Good because the only time I want to see you crying again is when it's on my strap. Got it Princess?"

(a/n-the best line I've ever wrote in my whole writing career)

Before you can respond she starts softly kissing along your inner thighs.You place your hands in her hair making sure not to grip too tight or near the base of her ears - which are extra sensitive. Rumi sucks on your soft skin and smirks when the bruises blossom on your skin.

You grind against the edge of the bed and your grip tightens on her hair. Looking down you feel a sense of pride and belonging which fades into concern.

Fuck how am I going to cover them up before the gala? you pondered.

"Eyes on the mirror pretty. Want you to watch how you fall apart for me" Rumi requested.

She smirks, spreading your plush thighs apart. You prop yourself up on a pillow and on your elbows trying to follow Rumi's order to look in the mirror.

You feel overwhelmed - mind hazy with lust and embarrassment. You don't know where to look.

"C-can I look at you instead?"

Rumi gives you a hazy smile before running her fingers along your pretty pussy. She swears she loves all of you equally, but your pussy was something else. She loves the way she has to use all her fingers to spread your folds and mound just so she can see your clit.

She adores the way you flutter and clench around nothing - you're so cute and eager. She doesn't mind whether you shave but secretly finds it hot when you let it grow. She's not letting a little hair stop her from pleasing you.

Rumi knows how to pleasure a woman - she alternates kissing along your thighs and pussy. The anticipation makes you dizzy. As she teases you, you gasp and buck your hips towards her.

She uses the tip of her tongue to swirl around your throbbing clit. She feels it pulsing on her tongue and stops to edge you for a bit before flattening it and running it along your eager slit.

She feels so good it almost hurts - you feel a dull pain almost desperate to feel something. Rumi always makes sure you're dripping before easing a finger into you. She curls her fingers upwards, and it hits your sweet spot every time and uses her other hand to spread you open so she can lap at your clit

Even though your plush thighs are muffling her ears she can still hear you.Your shared bedroom that was recently filled with sobs and giggles is now filled with lewd moans and erratic breathing

"No cumming until you tell me what I want to hear," Mirko says, slowing her movements

"Please… Please Please" you beg feeling a flurry of butterflies in your tummy.

"No not that… I want you to say you're pretty"

"m pretty" you try to say but instead it comes out in a high pitched squeal

"Say it like you mean it or you're not going to cum" Rumi demands, completely stopping her actions.

"Fuck. Mmh sorry. I’m pretty. I’m pretty Mmh so pretty. Mmh Mirko's pretty girl" you blabber, unsure of what you're saying all you can think about is cumming.Arching your back and trying to hump Rumi’s fingers you cry out of desperation.

"That's a good girl. You are my pretty girl, don’t forget that. You can cum for me sweetheart" Rumi praises, lapping at your clit, pumping, and curling her fingers again

You feel your tummy tighten before cumming all over Rumi's fingers. Your eyes are shut, and the most angelic moans leaves your lips.

Your chest heaves and Rumi looms above you cooing about how proud she is of you. She takes a moment to appreciate your stunning body again as she licks her fingers.

"You think you can give one more pretty? “ Rumi asks, massaging your legs

Still trying to catch your breath you nod frantically - wanting to please your girlfriend.

Rumi's pussy is throbbing and drenched in her own arousal. All she can think about is pushing your thick thighs up so she can grind on your pretty pussy.

She holds your legs to your chest - digging her hand into the soft flesh. Feeling her pussy on yours makes both of you whimper. The two of you are so wet and desperate and you know you're not going to last long.

She may be smaller than you but thanks to her training she pins you down easily and humps you like a bunny in heat. Slipping her hand between the two of you and spreading your pussy open so you grind clit to clit with each other.

“Just like that bun.... there’s my good, pretty girl” she grits.

With each harsh thrust of her hips, it makes your tummy rolls and boobs jiggle. Rumi is truly mesmerised by your beauty. She keeps glancing up and down. Your eyes are shut in pure ecstasy and your tongue is lolled out of your mouth.

"S'pretty like this - all for me right Princess?"

"Mmh. M f'you Rumi. I'm y-your pretty girl."

"That's what I wanted to hear"

You continue rocking your bodies back and forth at an even more frantic pace.

"Faster pretty. Fuck just like that. ahh" Rumi curses.

The two of you cum hard and Rumi almost collapses on you. Catching herself she allows herself to gently lie on top of you. Bodies pressed together and drenched in sweat and with racing hearts, the two of you lay like this for a while.

You can't think straight at all - the room feels like it's spinning. You struggle to keep your eyes open and even out you’re breathing.

“One more alright. Just relax, I got it".

Rumi is full of energy - it’s her quirk or being a hero but she's got excellent stamina. Sex always ended up being multiple rounds with the sweetest aftercare.

Rumi goes to the bedside table and grabs her strap on and a bottle of lube - not that she needed it.

"Are you okay with this? “She asks while lubing up her strap.

Still basking in your afterglow and trying to come back to reality you reply with a meek "yes.” You can't see Rumi but hear the jingle of the buckles as she secures the strap on.

"Absolutely sure? Cause I really wanna fuck you against the mirror so you can see how pretty you are taking me "

Taglist [click here to join <3]

@buzzyboi79 @0lissa0 @nishikina @bakugosgorl @bakugosbratx @aomi04 @dabis0bitch @bakubabeyy @keisurou @hannas16 @namjoonswifeyy @neko-loogi @stormcloudsbrewing @nymphoheretic @gently-folded-paper-cranes @shoutascoffeepot @slutfor-fictionalmen @dreamcastgirl99

[sordidmusings]

A Coronary Tale - Chapter 1 (Sanji x Reader)

Chapter Summary: You have been hiding away in The Wood, biding your time with the company of your three dear ravens. Fearing those who could find you should you leave your new home, you settled yourself deeply in with the trees and rocks and river, building a quiet routine. Unfortunately, you were wrong to expect no one else to enter the abandoned woods.

Themes and tropes: slow burn for her/lit fuze for him, hidden identities, witchcraft, curses, political pit of vipers, lost royalty, witch hunts, nonverbal gestures of love

A/N: Howdy doodie I finally done did this 😩 My addition to the Storyteller collab with the tale of The Three Ravens! I am shuffling stuff around quite a bit and I really hope that you all enjoy my changes and additions! What we have here is an absolute train wreck of a meet cute so that's a start lol The title is a reference to one of the songs I had in mind writing this and definitely the main one with lyrics, A Coronary Tale by Dana Sipos

Wordcount: ~5.2k

Warnings: fem!reader, bit of blood, descriptions of injury but no gore, you're like a little feral maybe, Sanji's kinda into that too at least

~ ~ ~ ••• ✦✦✦ ••• ~ ~ ~

Another twig snapped and your breathing stopped. Every nerve threading through your body pulled your mind from one place to the next: under the skin of your palms, scraping against rough bark; in the balls of your feet, throbbing from their recent pounding at the ground; in the  depths of your lungs, burning for oxygen but turned still as stone in fear. Mostly, though, your mind lived in your ears, desperately sifting through the forest ambience and calling ravens for clues of your hunter.

Enough moments passed to release your lungs from their stalling and you began planning your next steps. Your burrow was far but that was good; you had more time to make sure he couldn’t track you there. You had been leading him East, away from your home, since he’d chased you across the river. The last you’d heard of him was due Northeast of you. If you headed exactly opposite him, you’d be back at your river, able to follow it down to your stuff and scramble back to your hide.

The weight of the risk settled down on you and kept your body from following through with your plan. What if he circled back to find your trail again? What if he was waiting for you at the river, knowing you’d likely collect your things?

You shoved your forehead into the scabbed bark of the great oak that hid you. The calming breath you hissed out held the hint of a whine and you cursed yourself further for the noise. Each moment he was more likely to turn back. Each moment he was closer to finding you. 

Scrunching your face in a snarl towards your fear, you shoved yourself off the tree and ran westward.

Traversing the Wood was second nature to you by now, but you’d only flown through it with such great speed one time before. You moved much more like a fleeing elk than the panicked rabbit you were then, even with your fright measuring close to that of your memory. Your eyes and body knew the trappings of the woods before your mind could even name them; thorny vines were ducked, wayward branches were parried, felled trees were vaulted. Even your long dress wasn’t a hindrance; you simply gathered the skirts high and tight to free your legs and keep the cloth from stretching branches. The only thing slowing your race home was your adrenaline beginning to weaken beneath the force of your exhaustion.

You burst forth from the Wood’s edge, scattering leaves and dirt and noise in your bid for speed over stealth. You could see the river close now, only a stretch of stony shore between you and safety. Not a single stride shortened despite the shrieking of your muscles or the begging of your lungs. You were beginning to boil in the heat of your blood pumping in your hands, feet, and head, but you would not slow, not even with the new glare of the sun making the air feel even more hostile. Your flight would continue as long as the flutters and caws of the ravens urged you on. 

“Wait!”

You shrieked in response and slid right into the swirling current before you. Still furious and frigid with late spring melt, the river overwhelmed you, forcing a gasp from you at the shock to your system. Water flooded into your open mouth and nose, choking you as you spun until up was left, down, and sideways. Despite flailing for a chance at breath and life, your mind kept screaming, West, west, that came from the west!

Your saturated dress sunk you deeper in the toiling water. It gave the chaotic current more purchase to rip and tug you in every direction, bouncing your limbs off all the river’s hidden weapons. Rocks tripped your sandaled feet at every attempt to find footing and thudded against your shins and arms with each turn in the water. Skeletal branches from long submerged trees scraped at you and grabbed at your skirts. Each new hold on the cloth only ended with another old seam ripping and releasing you back to the whims of the river.

Reigning in your sense, you curled into a ball to keep your feet from shoving beneath a rock, trapping you, and to protect your head from smashing in on any of the great boulders that lurked under the water's surface. Just when your world was fuzzing away at the edges, one of those boulders found you and punched the last bubbles of air straight from your lungs.

Before the current could take you further, you used the last of your strength to spin and scrabble at the rough stone’s surface. The moment you got a grip you summoned every ounce of life in you and heaved. 

With a crouping cough you broke the surface of the water. Great lungfuls of cold water scraped their way out of you. Through your heaving and gasping you drug your upper body to splay across the sun baked stone. It burned into your cheek and you couldn’t help but be thankful for the distraction from your raw throat and skinned fingertips. Everything but that sensation began to swirl and drift away into a distant fog.

Within that fog was a warm embrace. It wormed around your chest and lifted you away from the grounding heat under your cheek. You whimpered, agitating your tender throat, but couldn’t bring yourself to do anything further to protest. Sweet shushing soothed your mind, quickly replacing the comfort of your stone and covering the distant cawing. As you floated away, the steady rhythm of each hush set your sore lungs to breathe in soft waves.

~ ~ ~ ••• ✦✦✦ ••• ~ ~ ~

The afternoon sun pierced right through your eyes the moment you opened them. Wincing them back shut, you changed your goal to taking stock of your injuries. Your whole body was throbbing, muddling the deeper hurts in a constant protest that sounded with each beat of your heart. Through the cacophony, you heard your right ribs screaming, your throat moaning, and your fingers sobbing. 

You flexed your hands slowly to test them. They trembled and ached at your orders but followed through with no great spike in pain. Next, you shifted your torso in a minute rock from side to side. Your ribs punished you spitefully for the motion, but there was no telltale crackle of bone and you were able to keep breathing throughout your shimmying. Lastly, you began sucking in a deep breath to attend to your throat and lungs. You began hacking halfway through, earning more ire from your battered side.

“You’re awake!,” a relieved voice chimed. Gentle fingers traced your face, continually brushing from your skin into your hair. “Thank goodness. You haven’t been out long; it's only been a minute since I pulled you from the river.”

Your heart kick-started again, not caring the least bit about the man’s attempts to seem non-threatening. His claim as your savior did little too; wishing you death and wishing you harm were two separate things. Your pain quieted to a whisper as your awareness shifted to scouring the space around you for information. The ground under you was solid and your palms felt warm stone. The constant swish and rumble of rapids filled the air. I’m still on the riverside. Calm breathing sounded quietly from your left, only a foot beyond the fingers still caressing your face. He’s already recovered.

“You gave me quite the scare there, Bichette. I thought the river took you,” he whispered to you. “I’m so glad I ran back to the river instead of continuing in the woods.” The genuine care and worry in his tone only made your distrust grow. You instead trusted the continued caws from the treeline. His touch disappeared and you heard the grind of his shoes against the rocky ground as he stood up.

“Keep resting, Mademoiselle, I’m just going a short way down the river’s edge to see if I can spot us an easy way back.”

You counted each step he took away from you, every crackle on stone ramping your anticipation higher and higher. The roaring of your blood in your ears grew to match that of the river but his footsteps still cut through. You slowly bent your knees up to remove your sandals and plant your feet on the ground. Despite their exhaustion, your muscles listened when you tensed them. Your count was nearly there. Thirty! You flung yourself onto hands and knees then bolted.

“Stop! Please!”

You were much slower than before, having to drag the weight of your water-logged clothes, half-drowned body and freshly abused skeleton with you. Your lungs couldn’t keep up with even the diminished speed of your strides and you had to fight with each breath not to cough, yet the urgent calls of the ravens circling you pushed you on. The man’s thumping steps were quickly catching up, but you were almost at the treeline.

“You’re going to hurt yourself, chérie, please stop,” he tried again, begging through panting breaths.

One raven sped ahead of you and landed on a large branch with another loud call. You zeroed in on his choice - an old maple spreading high over its neighbors. Its branches started far above the ground, but that was no problem for you, even now. Your switch from sprint to climb was seamless; one step launching you from between the maple's snaking roots and the next propelling you just that much higher with a bare foot catching deeply against its sturdy bark. Ignored the warnings from your hands, you used knots and lumps for handholds, hauling yourself higher and letting your feet follow the same path. You didn’t let yourself slow until you were well mingled in the smaller branches of the tree, nearly forty-five feet in the air. The way the distance shrunk your pursuer gave you a small bit of comfort.

“I’d climb up there but you’d just jump out, wouldn’t you?” he called up to you.

As if to prove his point, you widened your stance and bent low, ready to flee at a moment’s notice. The three ravens flapped their wings in threat of flight. It was all mostly for show; your body was at the end of its rope.

“Ah, Bichette, what has you so scared?” he asked, voice and eyes mourning.

You bared your teeth at him and hoped that he was too far to see your watery eyes. The aches of your body were becoming too much; your bruised ribs stunted every breath, your flayed hands trembled and bled, your scraped toes weren’t far behind their damaged state, your abused throat burned at every scrape of air in and out, and your shaken head, as well as all below it, thudded with pain. The worst of your worries though was the wooziness creeping in on the edges of your mind in the wake of your adrenaline rush. Also the man below you, wrapped in his absurdly expensive clothes, which were just as soaked as your torn rags.

“You’re a strong one, I’ll give you that.” 

You held your shaky snarl. The ravens flapped and cried.

“But even you need food, water, and rest after a chase like that. You nearly drowned,” he pressed, desperately trying to make you see reason. “I’m not going to hurt you, Mademoiselle, I promise.”

You continued to stare down at him with all the ferocity of a caged animal, and he sighed.

“You’re also going to want to get out of those wet clothes. Your laundry on the shore should be dried by now and I dropped my food there as well. There’s plenty to share. I can help you back to go get it,” he persuaded. “I’d go get it myself, but I don’t want you to disappear.”

You’d hold my clothes hostage to find me again, you grumbled internally. The three ravens stilled and took their time looking down at the man. After their analyzing, they took off, leaving you feeling truly cornered and alone. The man saw your face crumble as you watched them go and he ached for your sorrow.

“Well, neither of us are going anywhere, so-” he blew out a long breath and looked down at the tree’s base “-might as well get to know each other.” He found a spot he deemed worthy and settled into the cradle between two large swells of roots. He craned his head back to check on you and found you still staring down at him. He couldn’t decide if he preferred your teary glare to the lost look you sent the birds; both had him wounded.

“I’ll start,” he offered patiently, looking down to his hands fidgeting with his gold rings between his bent knees. “My name’s Sanji.”

He waited a good twenty seconds but received no response. He looked back up and you stared down.

“Can I have your name, chérie?” he pleaded gently.

He was met with more silence.

“Okay,” Sanji relented. “Okay, Mademoiselle, that’s fine. I’ll talk for both of us for now.”

He settled in deeper against the tree, continued his fidgeting, and wished he had his cigarettes.

“I’m a chef; feeding people is my greatest joy,” he started earnestly. “I was sailing the seas, feeding a patchwork crew. Our captain managed to find trouble everywhere he went, dragging us along with him toward his ridiculous dream.”

Sanji paused. You watched as he raked a hand through his shiny blonde hair and attentively took in the way his face softened into a fond smile. Craning further for a better look, you managed to see the sad scrunch in his brows conflicting with the upturn of his lips.

“He was dragging us towards our own foolish dreams, too, though. I want to find the All Blue,” he admitted. He looked up in time to see your incredulous look and the curious tilt of your head. They made him burst out in bright laughter at the dramatic shift in expression from you. You hated how pretty he looked like that.

“Yeah, that’s what I expected; most people think it's a fairytale.” He calmed his chuckles and asserted delicately, as much to himself as to you, “I know it’s out there though. It has to be.”

You fought hard against this man’s charms chipping away at your suspicions. Your complaining injuries helped keep you cautious, even through the strong pull of his placating eyes.

“Our captain would like you. Anyone with your tenacity catches his eye. He’d probably want to add you to his collection,” Sanji joked lightly. “You would fit right in; our navigator and archaeologist always respect a strong woman like themselves. Our musician and engineer are welcoming to new company. Our sniper and doctor might fear you a bit though.” He took a moment to think before looking down and grumbling, “And that damn mosshead would complain, but when isn’t he.”

You were about to start tuning him out, needing to defend yourself from being endeared, when his next words cemented your curiosity to the forefront of your mind.

“I guess it doesn’t matter now. I’m stuck here.”

He sounded so heartbroken. You knew that sound; had heard it leaking from your father and brothers - from your own lips.

“My family-” he spit the word with potent vitriol “-found a use for me. Pulled me back here with a threat against my real family.”

You diligently tried to see the emotions in his face, but he kept it firmly turned from you, hiding away. You cursed him for adding a sad ache to your chest as if you didn’t already have enough pains. Looking again at his fine clothes, you began to wonder if they felt more like a trap than a trophy to him. Sanji turned back up to you and his heart stuttered at the first glimpses of compassion on your face. It made you even more beautiful.

“I-I’m sorry, chérie, I didn’t mean to make this a therapy session.” He chuckled awkwardly at his own foible, frustrated with himself for dumping his emotions on you but happy with the result. You decided with great conflict that his unsure smile was just as pretty as his laugh-scrunched face. He let that smile slide off of him, meeting you instead with a vulnerably relaxed face that looked so intrinsically forlorn. Seeing his bare humanity, you needed no further prompting.

Sanji watched in bewildered awe as you pursed your lips at him and sent him a warbling whistle. Your imitation was perfect; it sounded exactly like a robin greeting the sun.

“What…” he trailed off, still taken aback by the strange but sweet turn. “What does that mean?”

You finally allowed yourself to relax your posture and settled your beaten body to splay across the tree’s limbs. Your legs dangled around a few branches, allowing them some much needed relief, and you laid on your front, making it easier to keep your watchful eyes on the man below you. Bedding your forehead into your forearm, you offered a miniscule smile from tight lips before repeating the birdsong.

“It’s beautiful,” Sanji complimented. “Fitting for such a striking lady.”

You scrunched your nose disapprovingly at him and whistled out a piercing warning call.

“Sorry, sorry,” he laughed. “I just can’t help myself with-”

Avian shrieks split the air and you shot up to find their source. You easily ignored the whimper the action forced from you, but Sanji struggled to do the same.

“Ma chérie, please be careful-”

You spotted six flapping wings and laughed in bright joy, fully distracting Sanji from his worries. The flying forms looked odd; one had a bulbous blob by its head and the other two had billowing streams of color falling from them. You recognized the streams as cloth as they grew closer, but the final item remained a mystery. That raven landed the easiest, having nothing that would snag on leaves or branches. The other two were having much more trouble.

You giggled again at their hijinx, fully amused by their frustrated crying and hopping and flapping at the edge of the tree. To help them, you began weaving your way out towards them until you were at the limits of the branches’ strength to hold your weight. You reached your arm out as far as it would go, feeling the straining stretch in each joint, but still fell short of bridging the gap between you. The whole time, Sanji was calling up fretful and concerned warnings, which you easily ignored. 

Despite your attempts to help, the two raven still just fretted about and progressed no closer to a solution. A shrill whistle cut their actions short and captured their attention. You held up two fingers to them then pointed to the smaller garment. They stayed still and you frowned at them with all the practiced disappointment of a school teacher. You repeated the actions with more gusto, this time finishing the display with a hand waving them toward you. Suddenly getting the memo, both ravens began working the same cloth in your direction, repeating the process of free-shift-snag until it was within your reach. 

You grabbed the familiar green cloth and held it in front of you, recognizing an oversized men’s shirt. The ravens continued their work until you were holding a pair of loose beige pants too. You gave the two birds a loving pet and a quick kiss on their bowed heads in thanks. You slinked your way down to about thirty feet from the ground, seeking more open space between the branches to change out of your sopping and torn dress.

Sanji took in the whole exchange with wonder.

“You really are the Witch of the Wood,” he whispered reverently.

Your face twisted with confusion at the title and you rapidly shook your head.

“But your ravens!” he argued. “They all say the Witch has three ravens for familiars - that they help her spy on all who enter this stretch of forest.”

Well… he’s close, you admitted to yourself. You squeezed the excess water out of your ruined skirts (you hoped some would land on his head), removed your freezing underwear, and slid the pants on under your skirts. The top went on next, acting as a cover for you as you squirmed your arms out of the sleeves of your dress. Once that was accomplished, you began shoving the heavy material through the neck of the shirt. The process was frustrating; the wet material clung to you with every move, forcing you to make more and more and agitate your wounds further and further. When you finally managed to get it all out of the shirt, you shoved your arms through their holes and pulled the dress over your head.

Luckily, your quick work left a minimal transfer of moisture from your old outfit to your new one. The relief of mostly dry clothes felt even greater than you imagined, and you took great pleasure in balling the ruined fabric up and tossing it to ricochet its way down the tree, landing next to Sanji with a great plop. Staring at him again, you turned bitter at the reminder of the title he gave you. I am no witch. You wished you aimed for his head.

The deep crimson smears and fingerprints Sanji spotted on your discarded clothes refreshed his worry. He had gotten far too distracted trying to charm you and even more distracted once he saw your smile. Sometimes he regretted his overwhelming soft spot for women. Then he would see another woman and have that thought overwhelmed. C’est la vie.

“Bichette,” he cooed, hoping again to win you by charm, “ma chérie, please let me take you back. We need to get those wounds looked at.”

You looked down your nose at him then pointedly turned away, looking instead to the final raven bearing a gift for you. He was still holding tight to a cloth knot at the top of a parcel, but he had adjusted to rest its weight on the branch below him while he waited for your attention. You grabbed the parcel from him, immediately noting the intricate weave of the fabric beneath your fingers, matching well with the delicate patterns unfolding throughout it. This must belong to the expensive man at the foot of the tree. A shame to get bloody fingerprints on his fineries, you thought with sadistic glee. Serves him right for chasing me through my woods.

Untying the cloth proved easier on your fingers than your wardrobe change, they had turned to a monotonous pounding instead of the sharp alerts of pain sometime during your first challenge. Opening the wrapping revealed two containers of food, a smaller one sat atop the larger. First popping the top option open, you found two perfectly prepared pieces of meat on the bone. They were seared to perfection, browned just so, and smelled of gentle spices, just enough to enhance the natural flavor of the meat. You snapped the container back closed so you could check in the other. This one contained the most mouth-watering curry you’d ever seen or smelled, nestled in a thick pool next to fluffy white rice. You looked back and forth between the food and the man below with a raised brow.

“A quick lunch I whipped up,” Sanji responded to your unspoken question. You rolled your eyes at him, doubtful that anything in this meal could be made quickly. Maybe the rice. You wrote his dismissal off as showboating in a further attempt to woo you. 

Having no silverware, you prepped your fingers as best as you could by dabbing them on the rich cloth, licking them to wet any dried blood or dirt, and repeating the process until only the barely there leak of fresh blood remained on your raw fingertips and broken nails. The process had them stinging angrily at you again, leaving you biting desperately on your tongue to hold back whimpers that still pushed through. Thankfully, it didn’t take very long. The river water had rinsed them mostly clean, leaving only the layered mess of blood and the dirt from your climb.

Taking a clump of sticky rice, you scooped up a bit of the fragrant orange curry. The taste was just as divine as the smell and you moaned at the best food you’d had in years. You bit into a piece of the scrumptiously tender meat next, recognizing sea king, and you were yet again reminded of Sanji’s opulence. You had to admit to his good taste though; the meat from this variety of sea king leaned much more towards chicken than fish in both texture and flavor, absorbing the bold mix of spices in the curry perfectly. Judging by the vibrant tint to the meat, he set it in a well-crafted marinade as well. Had he not told you he was a chef before you got the food, you would have never believed this was the work of his own hands.

“At least I know you’re getting a good meal,” Sanji said. You were angered and endeared by his honesty. “I came to The Wood for a break. Before the rumors of the Wretched Witch of the Wood, this land and its river were known for their beauty. I can see why now.” He looked up to you with warm eyes and an affectionate smile. You snubbed your nose at him.

“Before I found you, my plan was to find the calm stretch of river, wade around, then sit and eat where absolutely nothing and no one needs me. I chose the food to bring the memory of some of my friends with me.”

You slowed your ravenous shoveling to stare at what was left of the curry with guilt twisting your gut. If it were just food you were taking, you’d happily rob this rich stranger blind, but memories were a different story. Your gaze roamed your three ravens, earning inquisitive coos from them with your misty eyes. You centered your gaze back on the massacred curry, feeling hot shame smother over you. A gentle beak nudged at your cheek.

Sanji let himself sit in the quiet following his confession. He was glad you slowed down, fearing you’d upset your stomach with a quick and filling meal, but he did have to admit, it warmed his heart how much the messy display reminded him of his captain. 

While he had no great time to appreciate the beauty of the scenery before, he found the time now. Trees old and new clustered lovingly around each other in a long stretch, interwoven with blooming hedges of mountain laurel and patches of lacy ferns. Moss hugged the damp places of The Wood, keeping them warm and alive. The earth here was not soft; it was made of packed dirt, rock falls, giant boulders, and wrestling roots, but sweeps of dead leaves did their best to cushion the path of each resident.

The river that had previously felt so threatening and cruel now soothed him with its endlessly running waters. He was mesmerized as his eyes followed the shifts from a shrouding deep blue to frothing white and back again. The cycle felt endless and inevitable, stable and sure, outside the reach of time or the shortfalls of consciousness. It made him small, it made his problems small, and he found peace.

The whisper of rustling feathers broke him from his blissful mindlessness. Sanji turned to see one of your ravens nudging the mound of his tied cloth toward him. The reminder of you made him realize he hadn’t heard a peep from you since he started his zoning. He found you had fully turned your back to him and you were staying statue-still. Now slightly concerned, he reached for the cloth only to stop with a surprised yelp when the raven pecked his hand. It cawed mockingly at him before flying right back to your side.

Reaching cautiously despite the raven’s distance, Sanji grasped his cloth. Again, he looked at your bloodied fingerprints with a clenching heart, but he brushed past it as best as he could and untied the limp fabric. Laying out the cloth, he saw that it held the smaller of his food containers. Opening that, he found the two pieces of meat on the bone untouched. His cheeks ached with the force of his new smile.

“Thank you, ma chérie, you’re very kind,” he called up to you. He shook his head at your lack of response and began munching happily.

Hearing that he had begun his own meal, you were able to stomach the rest of your food.

~ ~ ~ ••• ✦✦✦ ••• ~ ~ ~

The sun had long since bruised the sky, its wounds showing the end of their healing in purples and blues instead of oranges and pinks. Sanji still sat stubbornly and dutifully at his post under your tree. You had succumbed to sleep a while ago, your body much too ravaged and worn to fight the need for rest any longer.  

Seeing you’d fallen under, Sanji tried to scale the tree to bring you down and carry you back to get help, but each attempt was swiftly thwarted by stabbing beaks and talons. They first started as more of a threat, tugging at his clothes, but as he got bolder in his attempts so did the ravens. They found their courage to fight him and would not back down. Instead, Sanji backed off fully after a beak opened his hand for first blood and the other two readied their screeching weapons at each of his eyes.

Retreating from them, Sanji took his time to collect you some fresh water from a fast-flowing piece of the river in his rinsed container. He used the clean inside of his cloth to dry the excess from the outside of the sealed container before laying it carefully on the expensive fabric at the base of your tree like an offering. He stood before it and looked at you through the time passing around his frozen stance, wishing he could just decide what was best for you. Your ravens seemed to think it was not him, nor his wishes to take you away. They were adamant that you were best left to rest as the tree cradled you. He supposed this forest was your home, it fit for its pieces to care for you.

Then again, it was the very river of these woods that so readily snatched you up to steal you from the living.

Sanji waited until the sky had grown much darker than the deep blue of his eyes in the waning light to leave you. He feared more for your future than finding his way across the river and out of The Wood in the dark. Before he could tear himself away though, he had to take you in one more time, hoping the vision will last him until the next time he lays eyes on you. He grieved for the state of you; not just your new hurts but your patchy clothes, your frayed hair, your callused hands. He felt especially for the prominent ribs that greeted him when he wrapped his arms around you to free you from the river. His mind toiled with worries and indecision his whole trek back to the castle.

“Oh, Bichette, how am I going to help you?”

~ ~ ~ ••• ✦✦✦ ••• ~ ~ ~

End Notes: Robins can symbolize renewal, new beginnings, and finding joy as they are one of the first signs of spring. They are also part of the dawn chorus, announcing the sun each morning.

[ethereal-moonglow]

Through every lifetime, our paths entwine. With every glance, I draw nearer to you. And with each touch, I fall deeper still. In the silence, your soul calls to mine.

Hello and welcome to @ethereal-moonglow and @hidden-oracle's writing collab!

What is this about?

This writing collab is all about the soulmate au! From the red strings of fate to the flower tattoo, any soulmate au is welcomed. You can be creative and make your own! As long as it's along the lines of soulmates it's accepted. Suggestive stuff (no more than that) and Dark plot lines are allowed.

Fandoms: Blue lock, BSD, Genshin impact, and LADS

· · ──────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ───────── · ·

How to participate?

Just message me or Ori so you can be added to the masterlist! When you do publish your fic make sure to add the [♡] Through every lifetime tag <3 (tag me also so I can add your work in the masterlist)

masterlist under the cut!

Masterlist

Blue lock

❥︎ Spectrum of colors (Nagi x reader) - @hidden-oracle

❥︎ Rin, Sae, Isagi and their soulmate aus - @ethereal-moonglitter

Bungo Stray dogs

❥︎ Dazai x gn! reader - @ethereal-moonglitter

Genshin impact

❥︎

Love and Deepspace

❥︎

[autumnsunshine10]

Sand castles and sunshine

Seashells on pristine shores

Palms and willows and pines

Stained glass on opening doors

So many marvels in this wide world!

There are so many ways to appreciate beauty. Be curious.

Explore more.

Sunsets are recordable, so grab a camera and go.

The world is a giant place, and all of it is home.

Study the stars, even if you rent a telescope.

Find hope. Hold on to the end of the rope.

Or let go, and know that the person you are growing into will catch you to even every score.

Stay open to the wonders around

Keep an eye on the sky above

Sights and sounds good vibes abound

Joy and delight, peace and love

To tickle the senses and serenely astound

Rock hound. If your eyes aren't on the sky, they should be on the ground.

The world is interesting when we look around.

Shouts of joy come from "look what I found!"

We can get our fill of beauty and grace

Knowledge meant to set us all free

It's an infectious laugh, a warm caring face

In the very essence of you, in me

It's time to wake up and feel the rush. Unshackled and unchained to achieve our dreams.

To realize that it is beautiful and important to have self belief.

The heart of everything, the seed

All we truly ever need

Collaboration between @autumnsunshine10 and @classystudentclown

[bleach-your-panties]

⇰INTRODUCING, AN OFFICIAL BYP🌹🌸 COLLABORATION EVENT...

...."BLONDES HAVE MORE FUN!"❀

⋱♡full collab info post ⇰here!

Deadline: MAY 31, 2024 (not a hard deadline!)

🎀Posts🎀:

♥︎Tokyo Revengers:

Chifuyu Matsuno @bleach-your-panties

Ken Ryuguji "Draken" @sin-and-punishment

🎀nsfw, smut |🎀fem reader

Shion Madarame @sin-and-punishment

🎀nsfw, smut | 🎀fem reader

Jeez Louise - Ken Ryuguji "Draken" x Emma Sano, Manjiro Sano "Mikey" x Reader (group sex) @ranspuppy

🎀nsfw, smut |🎀fem reader |🎀foursome |🎀fxf action

Takuya Yamamoto @ranspuppy

🎀nsfw | 🎀fem reader

Tetta Kisaki @bleach-your-panties

Rindou Haitani @prncessrindou

Ran Haitani @ksakiswh0re-xo

Wakasa Imaushi @ranspuppy

🎀rating tbd

✿Bleach:

Izuru Kira @bleach-your-panties

🎀nsfw, smut | 🎀fem reader

Rose Otoribashi @semisgroupie

🎀nsfw | 🎀more tbd

Shinji Hirako @seireiteihellbutterfly

🎀nsfw | 🎀thick, fem reader

♥︎Hunter x Hunter:

Kurapika Kurta @bleach-your-panties

Shalnark @ranspuppy

🎀nsfw | 🎀fem reader

Phinks @ranspuppy

🎀nsfw | 🎀fem reader

Pakunoda @ranspuppy

🎀nsfw | 🎀fem reader

✿Jujutsu Kaisen:

Kento Nanami x2 @ino-tamukas-baggy-sweater

Hell Hath No Fury - Kento Nanami @seireiteihellbutterfly

🎀nsfw | 🎀thick fem reader

Rosé and Bubble Gum - Yuuji Itadori @bleach-your-panties

🎀suggestive | 🎀fem reader | 🎀black-coded

Yuuji Itadori - @bleach-your-panties

♥︎Genshin Impact:

Thoma @ino-tamukas-baggy-sweater

Albedo @ino-tamukas-baggy-sweater

✿Attack on Titan:

Armin Arlert @stopisa

🎀nsfw | 🎀more tbd

Friends with Benefits - Reiner Braun @/shujistars-archived

🎀nsfw, smut | fem reader

Armin Arlert @sunarc

🎀nsfw | 🎀 more tbd

♥︎My Hero Academia:

Katsuki Bakugo @bakugosbratx

🎀nsfw| 🎀dark content

Mirio Togata @bleach-your-panties

✿Blue Lock:

Ryosuke Kira @bleach-your-panties

Ryusei Shidou @ranspuppy

🎀nsfw | 🎀more tbd |🎀fem reader

♥︎Haikyuu!!:

Kei Tsukishima @ranspuppy

🎀nsfw | 🎀more tbd | 🎀fem reader

Kenma Kozume @ranspuppy

🎀nsfw | 🎀more tbd | 🎀fem reader

Kentarou Kyoutani @ranspuppy

🎀nsfw |🎀fem reader

✿Fairy Tail:

Laxus Dreyar @bleachbrainrotbro

🎀sfw |🎀male reader

♥︎One Piece:

Sanji Vinsmoke @chrollohearttags

✿Death Note:

Mihael Keehl "Mello" @bleach-your-panties

[joyisoverparty]

Hey there! Just curious… if I were to create a joint bad things happen bingo AO3 collection for the Batfam, would anybody be willing to join in?

It would work like this: You’d fill out a Google form with some basic information as well as checking off which prompts you’d be interested in writing. You’d get assigned one prompt, and would write a fic based around that prompt. Then, you could post it to a collection on AO3. There would be a Discord to share WIPs and other works, promote your stuff, and just chat!

The fic could be a one-shot or multichaptered, though if it is multichaptered you’d only need to post one chapter for it to be considered completed. There would be no minimum or maximum word count.

It would have to center at least one member of the Batfam, although it’s okay if the character is only indirectly related.

If you’re not interested in this idea, I would appreciate if you could explain why! I want to make this as fun as possible!

[6azia]

Faking for real?| Chuuya x Dazai

—summary. It's only a mission, so why was Chuuya feeling that way to Dazai

—content warning. only light angst

—word count. 1,2k

—azia‘s notes. @pill0wc4se I finally finished it and I will continue watching bsd after finishing arcane <3

The dim room buzzed with the tension of an unasked question, but the answer was already on Kunikida’s clipboard.

“The two of you will need to attend the Black Sun Gala as a couple.”

Chuuya froze mid-eye-roll, turning toward the stern-faced detective. “What?”

Kunikida adjusted his glasses. “The syndicate hosting the gala values appearances of commitment in its ranks. They’ll only let in established pairs. You and Dazai are the most believable option.”

Dazai, who had been lounging in his chair with his usual lack of enthusiasm, suddenly perked up. A mischievous smile spread across his face as he leaned toward Chuuya. “Hear that, Chuuya? We’re finally making it official.”

“Shut up, you idiot!” Chuuya barked, his hands already curling into fists. “Why can’t someone else do it? I don’t even like him, let alone—”

“You’re the only ones with enough chemistry to sell this,” Kunikida interrupted. “Chemistry?” Chuuya snapped.

Dazai smirked. “You hear that, darling? We’re practically meant to be.”

“I swear to God, Dazai—”

“Enough,” Kunikida barked. “The gala is in two days. Practice your... dynamic. That’s an order.”

Chuuya groaned, dragging his hand down his face. This mission was going to kill him.

—

The rehearsal began in Chuuya’s apartment, a space he quickly regretted allowing Dazai into.

“Alright, listen up,” Chuuya said, pacing the room like a commander preparing for battle. “We’ll keep it simple: hold hands, maybe a kiss on the cheek if we have to. None of your over-the-top, attention-grabbing crap.”

Dazai, sprawled on the couch like he owned the place, propped his chin on his hand. “Oh, Chuuya, where’s the passion? The romance? If we’re going to do this, we need to make it convincing.” Chuuya glared at him. “Convincing? You couldn’t convince a blind man you’re serious about anything.”

“Harsh,” Dazai said with a pout. “But I’ll have you know, I’m an excellent actor. Want a demonstration?”

“Not really.”

Too late. Dazai stood and closed the distance between them in a single, fluid motion. He took Chuuya’s hand in his and gazed into his eyes with a level of sincerity that caught Chuuya off guard.

“My dearest Chuuya,” Dazai said, his voice low and smooth, “from the moment I saw you, I knew I couldn’t live without you.” Chuuya’s face turned red, and he yanked his hand away. “Cut it out, idiot!”

Dazai grinned. “See? You’re already blushing. I’m just that good.” Chuuya turned away, muttering under his breath. Idiot. It’s not because of you...

—

The Black Sun Gala was a picture of opulence: glittering chandeliers, golden drapes, and a sea of well-dressed criminals.

Chuuya hated every second of it. Not because of the danger, but because of the way Dazai’s arm rested around his waist, pulling him closer with every passing minute.

“Relax, love,” Dazai murmured in his ear, his breath warm against Chuuya’s skin. “You’re supposed to look like you enjoy this.”  

Chuuya gritted his teeth, forcing a tight smile. “Don’t push your luck.”

They moved through the crowd, playing their roles perfectly. Dazai was charming, effortlessly mingling with the guests, while Chuuya stayed close, his sharp eyes scanning for any signs of trouble.

At one point, a woman approached them, her gaze flicking between the two. “You two make quite the pair,” she said with a sly smile.

Dazai tightened his hold on Chuuya, pulling him even closer. “Oh, we do, don’t we? He’s my everything.” Chuuya’s face burned. “Tch. Don’t flatter yourself,” he muttered, though he didn’t push Dazai away. 

After some pleasantries they both went back. 

—

Back in their shared hotel room after the event, Chuuya sat by the window, a glass of wine in hand. “You were quieter than usual tonight,” Dazai said, breaking the silence.

“Yeah, well, maybe I’m just tired of playing pretend,” Chuuya replied, staring out at the city lights.

Dazai chuckled, flopping onto the bed. “Playing pretend is the easy part. It’s when the lines blur that it gets tricky.”

Chuuya glanced at him, his chest tightening. Do you even realize what you’re saying?

He turned back to the window, his grip on the glass tightening. Damn it, Dazai. When did I start... feeling this way? And why does it have to be you?

“Don’t overthink it, Chuuya,” Dazai said, as if sensing his turmoil. “We’re almost done here.”

“Yeah,” Chuuya muttered. “Almost.” With one big gulp he downed his glass.

—

The next and  final night of the mission brought a new level of tension. They were supposed to blend in, but Chuuya was struggling to keep his emotions in check.

Dazai, ever perceptive, noticed. “Chuuya, you’ve been acting weird lately.”

Chuuya scoffed, trying to deflect. “I’m fine. Focus on the mission.” Dazai grabbed his wrist, stopping him in his tracks. “Is that all you care about? The mission?”

Chuuya froze, his heart pounding. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” He snapped back, trying to free himself of the grip without drawing too much attention on the both of them.

“You’re hiding something,” Dazai said, his tone uncharacteristically serious. “And you’re terrible at it.”

Chuuya yanked his hand away, his frustration boiling over. “You don’t see anything, do you? You think everything’s just a game!”

Dazai’s expression shifted, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face. “Chuuya...”

“Forget it,” Chuuya muttered, turning away. “You wouldn’t understand even if I explained it.”

—

Later that night, Chuuya sat on the rooftop, the cold wind biting at his skin. He stared up at the stars, his thoughts a tangled mess.

He heard footsteps behind him and sighed. “What do you want, Dazai?”

Dazai sat down beside him, his usual grin replaced with something softer. “You always run off to rooftops when you’re upset.”

Chuuya didn’t respond, his gaze fixed on the horizon. They sat in silence for a while, the weight of unspoken words hanging between them. Finally, Dazai spoke. “You’re not as hard to read as you think, Chuuya.”

Chuuya turned to him, his hands tensing on the concrete floor. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Dazai’s gaze softened. “It means... maybe I don’t see everything, but I see enough.” He mumbled while tracing Chuuya’s fingers and finally cupping his hand on his own.

Chuuya’s breath caught. “Dazai, I-”

Before he could finish, Dazai leaned in, pressing a light, fleeting kiss to the corner of his mouth.

Chuuya froze, his mind blank. When Dazai pulled back, his usual smirk returned. “There. That’ll help sell it, right?”

Chuuya stared at him, his heart aching. You really don’t get it, do you?

But he didn’t say anything. Instead, he looked away, a small, bittersweet smile tugging at his lips.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “That’ll do.” 

After that, Chuuya was left in his conflicted sea of thought, while Dazai made his way back inside to the gala.

“That has to do unfortunately for forever” Chuuya breathed out into the dark night. Looking up into the sky there were two bright stars beside each other, twinkling, reminding him no matter how close he will ever get it will never be enough for Dazai to understand his feelings fully.

A warm tear escaped his eye and landed beside his now relaxed hand. One day in the afterworld maybe. Chuuya mused around and stayed there till the gala ended.

[ag-cookiebat800]

I want to do a Lucifer fem!reader fanfic and smut stories, but I have no idea how to write at all I wish I could collab with someone cuz I got a whole lot of ideas and my own personal fantasies in my mind I just can't write them down I absolutely love Lucifer and I really want to express it. If anyone is willing to work with me, please let me know✨️💋❤️‍🔥🍎🐍🦆

[dadsbongos]

dads rockin' new year's eve!

count the seconds and belt those carols because the new year is approaching quick! let's celebrate right by appreciating our fictional loved ones! be sure to read through the do's & don't's below the cut or be kicked outta VIP! 17/23 prompts remain

tagging peeps who seemed inch rested: @toxycodone / @maniacpixiedreamboy + @xyfanficarchive + @antoine-tte + @dreamsandsuns + @kingofthe-egirls

**collab is open!**

PARTY RULES let's be mindful of our guests and ourselves!

full-length fics are completely non-necessary, but if the inspiration is hot i want people to have plenty of wiggle space! i’d say minimum ~400 words - 5k absolute max.

prompts are first come first served with no repeats. prompts remain open until picked or until December 15th. 

NSFW is allowed, however, i'll need an age or adequate age-indicator plainly visible on your blog or it’s gonna be a party foul! all characters involved must be aged up to 18 or older. dark content is allowed, so long as it’s appropriately tagged.

if, for any reason, you gotta ditch a prompt before midnight please let me know asap so we can get it back out there for a different date! switching one prompt for another can only be done once.

feel free to post as soon as you’re done, posts will be reblogged but not shared on a cohesive masterlist until closer to the deadline: December 26th. please tag your post #dads rockin new year and link back to this post :] 

also! i’d like to avoid repeating characters as much as possible, after 2 prompts are filled by the same character then we’ll need to freshen it up with a new face!

RSVP when's the party, and how to enter!

the big new year's eve bash will be on December 31st, no posts will be let in after the party ends!

to enter: pick an available prompt and drop the emoji in my inbox or messages along with what character you’re writing for (and what fandom they hail from!)

BYOB pick a prompt! the fun part!

12 grapes 🍇

champagne bubbles 🍾

gold tinsel 🥇

silver spoon 🥄

ball drop 🎊

hangover 💊

sloppy midnight kiss💋

fireworks🎆

woop-woop sirens!!🚨

snowball 🍧

recluse at a party 🌱

daddy’s fancy yacht 🚢

minutes after midnight, already broke a resolution⏰

regrets ⭕

last chances! 🍷

and the best part of this year was… 🍰

“you can’t spend the night alone!” 👯‍♀️

late night toast 🍞

stargazing ⭐

streamers 🎉

party favors 🎈

auld lang syne 🎶

secret special super surprise pick! ☢️

(dad spins a wheel and randomly assigns a prompt not pictured on screen. one re-roll allowed.)

GUESTLIST who's allowed in, who's coming, and their date for the party!

writers: @toxycodone x daisuke (mouthwashing) - sloppy midnight kiss💋 @toxycodone x chilchuck (dunmeshi) - regrets⭕ @24kills x satoru gojo (jujutsu kaisen) - silver spoon🥄 @dreamsandsuns x katsuki bakugou (bnha) - ball drop 🎊 @xyfanficarchive x captain curly (mouthwashing) - stargazing⭐ @antoine-tte x kylar (degrees of lewdity) - recluse at a party🌱

fandom: any, be wild be proud be unabashedly cringe as we welcome the new year!

feel free to ask if you have any questions i either didn't cover or if you need any clarification! this is my first go at an event like this, so i want it to run smoothly!

[undermine-the-instinct]

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝑳𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝑮𝒐𝒐𝒅 𝑯𝒆𝒓𝒆 (Then I Intend)

Sesshoumaru x reader

Read on A03....

Summary: The Lord Daiyokai often shuts you up in an inn, every few days of the month, for the demons that are attracted to your bloodscent. It is one of the few graces he allows. You would think its for your safety, and truly it is. Because not only do you seem to forget that he is a demon, but also a man.

Rumors of a bloodhungry demon arise, one that prowls the edges of this ghost town, devouring its residents under the shroud of moonless nights; Of which steadily approaches. Under the dark viel of a new moon, all desires will be brought to light.

Notes: For @lorelune 's Spring fever '2024 a/b/o collab! This was soooo fun to do, with the contrasting POV'S and repressed feelings~ Writing Sesshoumaru for the first time really stumped me first, because he's so aloof and stoic, but that just means i have to give him a cottagecore girlfail darling he cant resist lollll

Content/Tags: Omegaverse, Alpha!Sesshoumaru, Human!Omega!reader, reader doesn't know that they're an omega, but Sesshoumaru does, FEM CODED READER, smut, Female anatomy, Period mentions, era apropiate misogony, aphrodisiacs, blood, animal death, character death (not main characters), Servant/Lord dynamics, etc. I'll tag the warnings properly in the beginning of each part.

𝒫𝒶𝓇𝓉 𝐼 ….. 𝒜𝓅𝓇𝒾𝓁 𝟤𝟩…

𝒫𝒶𝓇𝓉 𝐼𝐼…..𝑀𝒶𝓎 𝟣𝟤…

𝒫𝒶𝓇𝓉 III….𝒜𝓅𝓇𝒾𝓁 𝟣𝟧 {PART ONE} {PART TWO}

𝒫𝒶𝓇𝓉 𝐼𝐼𝒱…..𝒯𝐵𝒟…

Current word Length: 48.1K

[truths33k3r4]

After the whole room takes a simultaneous second to catch their breath, I walk to my front door. Before my hand reaches the door handle, I hesitate and turn to all of my ‘guests’.

“Um.. it’s probably best for you guys to hi-”

I pause as I’m met with an empty room, and the sounds of scurrying paws scittering away. I walk under the frame of my bedroom’s door, and my eyes land onto the large hump of blankets now centered on my bed, with muffled whispers and shushes escaping from underneath.

Yeah… that- that should work.. I think, as I give a slight chuckle at the creatures fighting over room under the blankets. Classic siblings.

I walk back into the living room and open the door, expecting to see my regular pizza delivery man with his gapped-toothed grin and curly hair, but am instead startled by the presence of someone else. 

“Greetings.” The man speaks in a cold monotone voice.

The man towers over me, (which isn’t that much of a feat seeing how I’m 5’3), but his countenance oozes with.. threat. His shoulders are kept taut and pulled back, and his posture mirrors that of a soldier standing at attention. His eyes are shielded behind dark, tinted glasses, keeping me from seeing any hints of color or soul in his irises. 

He isn’t carrying a pizza box.

My instincts scream at me.

Don’t let him inside. Close the door NOW.

My brain moves a mile a second as I scramble to think of a plan. I do my very best to keep a mask of naivety on my face, so as to not raise any suspicions in this random dude at my doorstep. In the middle of the night.

“Um, yeah, hi. You are not the pizza delivery man..” I speak sassily with a hand on my hip, as I lower my sight to the man’s empty hands. ”..Unless the pizza you're selling is invisible?” I force a squeaky laugh.

The man’s face doesn’t move an inch. 

I feel my shoulders start to raise in discomfort. I mask the movement by turning it into a shrug as I make an unimpressed face.

“..Sir, if you don’t have my pizza, then please leave.” I speak with my tone lowering in warning. Behind the door, my hand reaches for the can of mace placed on a side table for emergencies. I can feel my heartbeat begin to quicken as the man glances at my empty driveway. 

He’s checking to see if I’m alone. 

I fail to cover the dread quickly flooding over my features, as my fingers shakily unlatch the safety lock on my mace. Keeping full unblinking eye-contact with the man, I semi-shout over my shoulder.

“Honey, lock the doors, there’s another creep out here.” I say with an obvious sneer towards the stone faced man. The grip on my mace tightens as my finger plants itself on the button.

Hopefully those little guys got the message.

I hear the faint sounds of sheets scuffling, followed by little *clicks* of the windows’ locks.

Oh, thank God.

Deciding this unnerving interaction was over, I close the door with as much force as I can, pressing my whole weight against the frame. The man, (like the sci-fi movies I’ve watched predicted), jams his foot between the doorway and braces the edge with a firm hand.

NOPE. NOPE. NOPE.

I remember all my older sister’s lessons on self defense, flying through the steps on how to disarm a foe, and how to protect myself. 

“First step- Know your enemy. Is it a man or woman?” My older sister’s voice echoes in my head. “Second step- Take away your enemy’s balance.”

In one jarring motion I let go of my weight on the door, causing the man to fall forward. Before he falls, I brace my core and shoot out my knee, jamming it into the “every man off switch” (as my sister had called it). A guttural gasp escapes the man’s throat as he falls to the ground in a groaning heap. He immediately tries to get up, scrambling to stand and reach for something tucked away on his back, but I don’t give him the chance as I yank off his glasses and spray his eyes point blank with my mace. Another scream rips out of the man as he clasps his hands over his eyes.

“Third step- Once he’s off balance, deliver the final blow.”

Using the same knee, I thrust it as hard as I can into the man’s throat, shoving him backwards, and flopping him over onto my porch. The blow should at least knock the air out of him, if not completely knock him unconscious. 

Right before I slam my door shut, I catch sight of the man twitching and groaning. And then I see the familiar sheen of a pistol wedged into his belt.

THAT’S NOT GOOD- OH CRAP.

After throwing the man's glasses to the floor, I twist every lock on my door, and even push the side table in front of it as a barrier.

RUN.

RUN!

My heart thrums in my chest as I race to my bedroom where all the little guys are huddled together. I yank my curtains shut, and turn towards them with fear and adrenaline pulsing through every breath.

“Hh..hhh. Guys- we gotta move. NOW.” I choke in between gasps.

Three sets of eyes emerge from below the blankets, all drenched in fear and confusion.

“What happened?? What did that human say?” Donnie questions, as he crawls out of the blankets. 

A muffled snort sounds from Leo as he and Raph crawl out of the covers.

“I’ll tell ya what the human said- GrraaAAAAGGGHH!!!” Leo mocks with a grin. “But seriously- what the shell did you do to that guy?”

Both of the creatures' voices are distorted and blurry, forcing me to truly focus so I’ll be able to tell what they’re saying. It’s hard to hear questions when your heart is pulsing like a drum in your head.

“I…W-we..” I start, trying to catch my breath for the fourth time TODAY.

Donnie looks at Raph and then back at me with concern etched all over his face. He holds out his tiny hands and makes steadying motions, encouraging me to breathe. I copy the movement of his hands, taking an inhale as my hands raise, and an exhale as they lower.

“He tried.. He tried to get in- I j-just-”

Breathing isn’t working.

“Speak the truth, Melissa. When you think your anxiety is winning, speak truth in your heart.” My mother’s voice echoes in my mind, smooth and tender like delicate silk.

I take another unhelpful breath, but try my best to hold it as long as I can. Then when I exhale, I force my whole body to release as much tension as possible.

“He tried… to get into the house..” My voice cracked as more fear shot into my heart at the fact that a man just tried to break his way into my home-

“Speak truth in your heart.”

I take another breath; It’s still shaky, but drawing closer to stable.

“...B-but, he didn’t get in. I... I stopped him.”

Pings of fear and contemplation flash from the faces of the creatures looking up at me. They all turn to each other, processing the information that was given. Finally, Raph turns towards me, his beak tight in a frown of guilt.

“Thank you for fighting that guy off.” Raph whispers as he crawls to the edge of the bed with Donnie following close behind him. The crimson-clad creature’s posture is hunched and tight, but his eyes shine with determination. I recognize that spark from years of having it flicker in my own heart:

Protector.

“Wait-” Leo twists his head to meet my gaze, still holding his slumbering brother in his arms.”Are you saying you beat the guy up??! HOW?? You’re like the size of a twi- OW!”

Leo jolts and yelps at the quick *THWAP* of Donnie’s tail slapping his rear. Raph rolls his eyes as a subtle grin grows on his face, but that soft tenderness melts away at the muffled sound of Mikey’s groans.

“Nardo!” Donnie both whispers and hisses, ”Mind your ever-spewing mouth! You should know better than all of us that it’s wrong to judge skill based on size. And thanks to you- he says sarcastically- Mikey’s awake now!”

The room goes dead silent.

Where once playful chimes danced in the wind singing their songs, now hung dull, hollow cylinders, weighing down their strings with each second that passed.

Leo’s smug grin peels off as if a mask, giving light to his serious concern for his sick brother. 

“A-aw, Mikey… I’m..I’m sorry, little bro.” Leo whispers as he holds the youngest close to his chest. The blue-clad creature begins to rock his brother in his arms, quietly singing a foreign lullaby. As Leo continues to sing, Raph and Donnie both crawl over to join him, placing their paws on Mikey and humming along.

As I watch, I feel my heart slow. The adrenaline that was once burning through my muscles and brain begins to vanish as I sit and listen to the three brothers. All the ‘what ifs’ clouding my mind swiftly dissipate as the room continues to fill with the comforting melody. A pulsing warmth makes its way into my soul, taking the place of my worries, fear, and anxiety.

As Leo and the brothers finish the beautiful song, a faint, content mew hums out of Mikey. His tail sluggishly wraps around his three brothers, pulling them all in closer. They embrace, surrounding Mikey with their warmth and presence. 

Raph pulls away from their hug, and holds his tiny hand out to me. 

A grateful smile blooms over my face as I carefully scoot over. I wrap my arms around them, lightly squeezing to add another form of grounding pressure. The feeling of safety and love spreads over me in waves of blue, purple, and red energy. 

Everything’s okay.

We’re gonna be okay.

The delicate peace in the room shatters at the frightening sound of my door frame being reduced to splinters.

What happens next, @phoebepheebsphibs? :)

~ Melissa

MASTERPOST

[chaotic-on-main]

I'M BACK.

Hi guys. I hope you're ready for this.

Welcome to the first ever cringefest hosted by literally all of us writers on tumblr.

What is cringefest, you might be asking? Well my lovely tumblr fiend, this is an event for us lovely creative writers to band together and let go of all our inhibitions. I personally find that I stress out a lot about my writing, making sure it's professional and well written (hell I'm doing it right now as I write this) and that can be very taxing to go through! It's literally so stressful. But what if we said fuck it and wrote for the sake of it?? To be dumb, to laugh at our dumb ideas.

Let's put our blorbos into some situations, yeah??

But first, some answers to some questions:

What do I do?

Write the cringiest, most stupid drabble (or a one-shot if you have more to say) you can about whatever you want.

This is open to any fandom, character, show, anime, movie, trope etc etc.

You need to put them in some real cringy situations though. And make sure your writing itself is cringy, don't hold back!!

Please tw/cw accordingly.

Smut is allowed obviously, I'm not your mom, but again mark MDNI and tw/cw accordingly.

Can I join even if I don't write normally?

ABSOLUTELY. This is open to EVERYONE. AND I MEAN EVERYONE.

How long does this last?

This will be open starting Saturday, July 8th and will close on Saturday, July 15th.

Who do I tag once I'm done, and what do I tag it as?

Tag me, @chaotic-on-main, so that I can compile everyone's stories into one masterpost as they come in.

As for the tags, please tag it as #cringelord69 (thanks @humanitys-strongest-bamf) and #23cringefest!

I don't feel good about knocking on certain things.

This isn't a question but I hear you!! I also don't want this to feel like this is a 'shitting on' contest, BECAUSE IT'S NOT. This collab is not meant to be mean, discriminatory, or judgmental. The point of this is not to make fun of characters, tropes, scenarios, ESPECIALLY WRITERS. This is literally us having fun and writing these characters in the dumbest way possible. Think of my immortal from all those years ago. YEAH. THAT MY IMMORTAL.

I'm worried about being bullied for my writing.

Again, not a question, but that's okay! So listen bud, this is the best thing about being cringy on purpose. We're out here being shitty for the sake of being shitty and anyone that makes fun of you is the dummy for not understanding the assignment.

Try not to worry about it, but if you are, please just send it to me in an anon and I will post it and link it to the masterpost. Easy peasy!

I said I'd tag those who reblogged the original post here in case you were all interested and wanted to partake!

@wyvernslovecake @humanitys-strongest-bamf @highgoon69 @roseofdarknessblog @sckerman @suukee @kingkonoha @honeylavendr @rae-does-stuff @oxygenbefore1775

don't forget guys, CRINGE CULTURE IS DEAD.

HAVE FUN WITH THIS!!