#Mountain Shade Village

[chernyadventures]

It's nearly November and time for my personal writing challenge. Everyone is welcome to join on socials and in the MSV discord!

My Pacemakr is up and set and everyone can set a goal and pace of their own. I'd love to share in YOUR progress success too!

[dovescandycoatedreality]

are we the hunters...or are we the prey?

[monstersflashlight]

Chasing the bounty hunter (Day 5/8 of the 10k followers event)

Griffin x gn!reader || primal play, chasing, breeding, cum inflation, size difference || tw: kidnapping

When he captured you, you were surprised about it. You followed him for days, tracking all his movements, being on his tail until you were almost ready to catch it… But he got to you first. You weren’t expecting him to turn around and chase you down. And above all, you weren’t expecting the rush of adrenaline and heat that the chase gave you.

He captured you and brought you to his house in the mountains, you didn’t know what you were expecting but a cottage-core cabin with enough greenery to be a botanical garden wasn’t it. You were surprised about it, too. And what shocked you the most was how nice he was. He captured you because you were following him, because he knew there was a price on his head and you were a bounty hunter. He knew all of that, but instead of killing you on sight, he captured you to keep you around. It felt a bit insulting that he treated you almost like a pet… But it also made something inside of you burn hotter than the sun.

He insisted on you going away, but you didn’t want to. If you went back to the village, you would have to explain why the griffin wasn’t with you, how you let him escape… And someone else would end up trying to catch him. So you stayed. (You didn’t think too much about how it just felt right to be with him, how comfortable you were in his house…)

You spent there about two weeks by the time you wanted nothing else but to climb him like a tree. The house was immense, perfect for his big body but a bit difficult with your human size. He didn’t mind though, he helped you get everything, he cooked for you, and he let you his nest to sleep at night. It took you four days to convince him you should sleep in the nest together, there was enough space. If you woke up sprawled over him, it was just an unconscious thing… right?

But without realizing, feelings started to grow. You became tender of him, every little quirk he had made you melt inside, and you knew he felt the same way. He kept looking at you with fire in his eyes, but also with a fondness so deep that made your heart beat faster and faster.

It took you two a month to kiss for the first time. His beak was a weird feeling against your mouth, but in a way… it worked. It worked and it felt great and made you moan against him, your body melting as he grabbed your waist and pulled you up against his body. It was exhilarating.

“I want us to fuck,” you blurted as he took the weeds out of the garden. You were sitting in the shade because he was worried your fragile skin would get burned.

He didn’t even turn around to answer. “We can’t.”

But you weren’t having any of his nonsense. “Oh yes… Yes, we can. Definitely can. I want to. You want to. We can.” He turned around then, his eyes tracking your every movement as he checked for your reactions. You bet he was checking for your vitals signs with his super-senses.

“You are so tiny. I would break you,” he told you, his voice leaving no room for argument.

But if you were something was stubborn as fuck. “And I would say thank you after,” you teased, being more than okay with him squeezing you if that meant getting him to fuck you senseless. “Come on, dude, you want it. I want it. Let me have that good, good griffin dick.” You knew he would appreciate your bluntness, but also that it would make his proper self get all blush-y.

He looked so flustered that you wanted to giggle. “You were sent to capture me.” Well, he had a point there, but at the moment you wanted nothing else but to be chased. And to be captured.

“But you captured me first. And now I don’t want to capture you anymore, I like you… I- I might love you,” you confessed, your heart beating fast. His face was unreadable, but you didn’t leave him room to say anything before you continued talking. “And I want to fuck you until we are both breathing hard and covered in fluids.”

“That- That sounds disgusting,” he said in a joking tone.

“Stop being a lying liar who lies. Don’t you want me?” You asked, analyzing his body for any response to that question. He nodded intensely, his big body moving with the inertia. You giggled and nodded, too. “Have me, then.”

He was doing the freaky vital signs again to look for some kind of signal that you were lying, when he didn’t find any, he asked: “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

He didn’t look that convinced, always worried about your humanity. “But what if…” You didn’t let him finish that thought.

“I’m gonna stop you right there. I’m gonna run, and you are gonna chase me, and when you get me, I hope to be pounded into the ground until I’m full of cum and my legs don’t function anymore.” His face was like a poem, a filthy, filthy poem. You could see his nostrils dilating as he imagined the picture you just formed for him. You were so ready to be fucked senseless. “Okay?” You asked again, wanting to make sure he wanted it as much as you did.

“Yes.” He agreed, his eyes burning with desire. “Now run.” His growl was enough to send hot lava through your veins, excitement and arousal filling your insides until you were trembling as you bolted from there.

You ran through the forest like a soul followed by the devil. First you couldn’t hear a single noise over your heartbeat, but as the house disappeared in the distance, the forest around you became alive. You could feel everything. The sound of little animals, the sound of the breeze moving the leaves and the flowers, the smell of dirt and spring in the air… and the metallic taste of your fear and arousal. You knew he was behind you, you could feel him following you but couldn’t see him. The excitement of the chase was making you all kinds of turned on.

Your heart was beating so hard you feared he could hear it, he probably could. And you knew his scenting was a lot better, so he could probably track you just by arousal alone. You were so horny at the moment that you could scream.

“I can smell your arousal, smells like honey.” You could hear him inhale behind you, growling at every intake of breath. “You want to be caught that bad?” His voice was teasing, like nothing you’d heard before. He was always so proper… But right then he sounded like sex and wildness, and that made you even hotter.

You kept running, but you didn’t get too far. When he caught you, he pushed you to the ground, his big body covering you. His breathing was labored behind you, and you smirked, knowing he was as affected as you with your little chase-scene. He ripped your clothes off and you groaned, mourning the lose of your shirt and pants for a total of three seconds before you felt the tip of his dick against your hole and you cried out.

He pinned you to the ground and started entering you, bit by bit until he was settled so deep inside you could feel him at the back of your throat. So big, so wild. “You okay?” He whispered, always the gentleman.

“Yes. Fuck me.” He didn’t have to be told twice.

He fucked you like a madman, in and out at the speed of light as he grunted and growled and went feral over you. Telling you how good your hole felt, how amazing you were and how glad he was he captured you that day. You were dizzy with desire and pleasure.

He made you come twice before he came inside of you, just like you asked. You knew it would be a lot, but you weren’t expecting the sheer amount of cum… He filled you until your stomach was bloated and you were a messy drooling body over the forest floor. You were drunk on his cum, and you didn't want to analyze how much of a cum-slut you discovered you were in that exact second.

He didn’t pull out. His dick still hard was nested inside of you as he breathed hard against your ear and you whimpered. Your stomach felt too big, your hole too raw… But that didn’t stop him from fucking you full over again, making you cum twice more in the process, the filthy sounds of his cum dripping around his dick were exhilarating.

And when he said: “I might love you, too.” Your world shattered into a million pieces once again.

[scarletcomalies]

storia di due anime perdute

Natasha Romanoff x Fem Reader

Word count: 5,400

Warnings: Dark fic, bullying from friends group, post-death grief (both from Natasha and Reader), emotional absence from a parent, depression, self isolation, manipulation. 18+ content, Nat has a penis, blowjob.

Taglist: @nattysbabygirl @huggingkoalas @grimleaper @olicity-boo @urfav-wh0re @ihartnat @afwmaieel-1 @marvels--slut @ddreader04 @obsessedwcoffeeandwomen @traveler-at-heart @osnapitschloe @foxythefox54 @justarandomreaderxoxo

A/N: Happy Halloween, guys! I wrote this during several stoned nights with In This Moment music videos playing in the background (which ended up in Lady Gaga music videos and with me recreating the choreographies lollll).

A/N II: I tried my best effort to write as much as possible in the middle of all the ongoing college projects and the everyday hecticness. Unfortunately, I didn't manage to finish it all by today. However, my semester is almost over, therefore the wait for part II will be way shorter! :)

In the serene village of Collodi, you encountered Natasha Romanoff, a woman in search of comfort and healing after the painful loss of her wife and daughter. She was moved by your lively personality, naiveté, and tender heart, leaving within her a yearning urge to take you, mold you like one of her puppets, and help you become her real girl.

In the enchanting region of Tuscany, Italy, hid a small village called Collodi, a dreamy corner protected by the intimidating mountains that surrounded it. This place, isolated from the hectic society, seemed to yearn fervently for the trees to consume it completely, wishing that only the memories and debris of what once was would remain in the end.

But that was not possible.

Collodi would still have been in the penumbra of oblivion if it wasn't for the pen of a blissful author to pay tribute to it through an immortal fictional story. It was as if it was destined to shine in the vast darkness of the commonplace.

Because it was not as visually captivating as Monterosso al Mare, for example, a town that was part of the five villages that, in perfect unity, formed Cinque Terre.

Monterosso al Mare did not long to be consumed and forgotten. It enjoyed its own prominence along with its neighboring towns.

From miles away, its structure could be seen standing tall with dignity on the seashore, and the palette of colors that it had was a delight for the eyesight, a canvas painted by the hand of an expert brought to life. Collodi, on the other hand, appeared as a spectrum between shades yellow and brown, and didn't stand firm, it rather seemed to be on the verge of crumbling at any given moment.

But Natasha Romanoff found beauty in Collodi.

You see, Monterosso al Mare was always displaying its vibrant colors, there being no room for exhaustion or rest, and its neighboring towns shared that quality. Totally exposed to the scrutiny of others, it was constantly adapting to the expectations of those who visited it. No matter who crossed its thresholds, no matter who might inflict harm, it must always stand firm, clinging to the reputation it had so painstakingly cultivated.

Collodi didn’t have such obligation, for it was simply Collodi. Yes, it may have had a history that was inevitably inherent, but this town was still completely detached from the demands of appearance and expectations.

Natasha Romanoff found beauty in Collodi, because having been Monterosso Al Mare, cost her the life of her wife and daughter.

And in Collodi, she found you.

“What a boring town,” exclaimed Kate, one of the two people who were once considered your friends.

“No way, the House of Butterflies was amazing,” you countered, as a smile instinctively plastered on your face as you recalled the memory of the previous day.

You had seen species of butterflies that rarely appeared in everyday life, and the best part, you had the opportunity to befriend some animals! When you offered them food, they would offer you their trust and appreciation, confirming once again that pattern so rooted in your being.

The concept of love you had was limited to the material, to what could be offered in that aspect. Both Kate and your other friend, Sarah, seemed to have sensed that nature in you, and decided to take full advantage of it, knowing that your concept of normality made you vulnerable to their intentions.

“Yes, and that was it,” Sarah intervened, and the boredom so palpable in her voice made your smile fade at once. True, you had only walked around town and gone shopping, but hadn't the previous day been enough? Was it necessary to do something extraordinary every day?

It did sting a little, given how thrilled you still were about the previous day’s activity, but from what you were hearing, your friends no longer shared that enthusiasm. Nor did they settle for at least one single calm day.

"Get us some of that good gelato, at least," Kate spoke up, after noticing your silence.

You nodded obediently, "Sure thing. Be right back."

You knew the bitter taste of disappointment as if it were your old arch enemy.

It was a feeling that has been with you since childhood, specifically the day your mother's life was snatched away by a terminal illness, robbing you of the joy that should have characterized any child's early years.

As life went on without that important figure by your side, you longed for the warmth and comfort of your father. However, instead, he taught you a raw truth: absence in life was more painful than the absence due to death itself, for the soul leaves without leaving the physical body.

You dreamed of his protective embrace, of his deep voice telling you bedtime stories, of feeling his loving hands tuck you into bed each night. But your father was not your mother, nor was he the father you used to know.

This new man, consumed with his work as a way of coping with grief, became obsessed with the expansion of his business. In his mind, securing a prosperous financial future for you was the best way to demonstrate his love and care, for if only his then small business had had the resources to cover the costs of treating the illness, your mother would still be with you.

So, instead of the human safety you needed so badly, you received an insane number of expensive gifts and unnecessary luxuries. Every one of them being his way of saying "I love you, I'm not going to fail you".

Oh, but he failed you. Every time he chose his job over you. Every time he missed your birthday, every promise he broke. With the expensive gifts and lavish vacations, he offered as compensation, you learned that affection was shown through material goods, and not necessarily through presence and emotional connection. It became your only way to express and receive affection, because it was all you had known your whole life.

Sarah and Kate were quick to notice the situation. At first, they just wanted to compliment you on your fancy bag and strike up a conversation with you to gain your trust, hoping that, when the time came, they would know you well enough to borrow it for a party or event where they could show it off as their own. However, after only a week, when you gave them each a bag just like yours as a thank you for sitting down with you for lunch and chatting, they realized that it was in their best interest to keep pretending to like you, as it would benefit them.

That's how they even ended up in Italy without spending a single penny in the first place.

It was a birthday trip that your father financed, once again rewarding the fact that he had forgotten about it. He also agreed to let you invite your two “best friends” in the hope that you would forgive him.

And so, as you returned with three ice creams in hand, you felt like you carried with you the key to an elixir to keep harmony among your friends. But the ground, capricious and uneven, laughed at you, with a prominent stone lurking to trip you up. In your haste to please, you did not see it coming.

Your body collapsed, crushing the ice cream cones, and the cold, sticky mess spread all over your dress. To top it all off, the rough cobblestone street also scraped your delicate arms and hands.

You winced in pain as you pushed yourself up, noticing the red marks and small cuts that now adorned your once-flawless skin.

Embarrassed and hurt, you looked up, expecting to see concern on your friends' faces. Instead, you were met with sneers and poorly concealed laughter.

"Oh my God, (Y/N)," Sarah scoffed, her voice dripping with disdain.

Kate joined in, her eyes showing a cruel amusement, "Seriously? We asked for gelato, not a circus act."

Your cheeks burned with shame as you struggled to your feet, your now wet and cold dress clinging uncomfortably to your body.

"I'm sorry," you mumbled, fighting back tears. "I'll go get some new ones..."

"Don't bother," Kate snapped, rolling her eyes. "You'll probably just drop those too. Jesus! And now we must be seen with you looking like that!"

You felt small, insignificant, and utterly alone as your so-called friends tore into you with those hurtful remarks. The beautiful day in Collodi, which had held so much promise, now felt tainted and ugly.

Was this what true friendship was supposed to feel like? Was this the essence of the connection?

Tears, hot and stinging like acid rain, began to stream down your cheeks at the thought of it all.

"Oh, great. Now she's crying,” Kate's exasperated sigh made itself present.

"All right, come on," Sarah's voice dripped with annoyance. "You need to pull yourself together. This is beyond embarrassing."

"Look, if you can't stop whining like a baby, at least walk a couple of meters behind us," Kate ordered you. “We don’t want anyone thinking we’re with… you.”

You.

That one-syllable word spoken so contemptuously and coldly, as if you were enough to make any accompanying insult seem redundant.

And you, meekly nodding, prepared to follow their cruel order.

But as you took a step to follow behind them, a gentle but firm hand grabbed your arm, stopping your movement.

Startled, you looked up to find yourself confronted by a striking woman with flame-red hair and piercing green eyes.

There was something in her gaze that invited you to resist, to question, to not let yourself be carried away by the current of contempt that surrounded you.

And when she spoke, your ears were delighted by her smooth-as-honey voice.

“Do not follow them, solnyshko,” she said, dropping the unfamiliar word with a slight accent. “They are not worth your tears or your time.”

For the very first time, there was someone willing to protect you, to remind you of your worth in a world that seemed to want to erase it.

Your subconscious, conditioned by years of neglect, sounded alarms at this strange kindness. It screamed insidiously, urging you to retreat to the cold yet familiar comfort of abandonment and life-draining complacency.

That made you gently pull your arm from Natasha's grasp, your eyes downcast in embarrassment.

"No, you don't understand," your voice trembled like a leaf in autumn's chill. "It was my fault."

Natasha's eyes flickered with sudden comprehension. That sentence alone allowed her to decipher you completely.

The vulnerability you exuded, the eagerness to please despite mistreatment, it all spoke to something deep within her. It would be a crime to let you go, knowing you were perfect material for satisfying her needs.

She glanced briefly at the retreating silhouettes of the college girls you were with, a flicker of indignation crossing her features. They were merciless, cruel in their treatment of you. Natasha knew she was different. She wasn't going to make you suffer like them, because she was far from mean.

Instead, she would shower you with the warmth of genuine care, something you had clearly been deprived of for so long. In time, she would become as essential to you as the air you breathed. You would need her, finding it impossible to abandon her. And in return, she would have someone who needed her, someone she could protect and nurture, someone she could mold to her liking to fill that void that had been devouring her insides like a ravenous parasite.

"Your fault that this town's ground is made of stone? Your fault that it's dark already?” She asked gently. Instead of offering empty reassurances, she aimed to give you some autonomy, allowing you to discover the truth for yourself.

Her smile became unavoidable as she noticed your wide, innocent eyes intently analyzing her questioning.

"Could you have predicted every uneven surface? Every shadow?" She continued, her tone encouraging reflection rather than accusation. "And these friends of yours," Natasha pressed on, scoffing with contempt so palpable it made you flinch. She made your terrifying friends seem insignificant in the face of her formidable presence. “They have never stumbled? Are they always perfectly graceful?"

This question hit home. You had a fair share of memories of Kate tripping over her own feet at parties and Sarah passing out in some stranger’s backyard. You had never blamed them for their clumsiness. So why were you holding yourself to an impossible standard not even they could meet?

How silly of you, taking blame for something so clearly beyond your control.

A small, rueful smile became clear as you realized the absurdity of your self-accusation.

"You see, dear?" Natasha chuckled at your adorable smile. She felt her cock reacting as well through a painfully, intense throbbing. Every fiber of her being screamed for release, so overwhelming it threatened to consume her entirely, to break through her carefully constructed walls. But not yet, she reminded herself, her fists clenching with the effort of restraint. "Now, let's forget about them. Let's get you cleaned up, I don't live far from here."

Her invitation, or rather, command, caught you off guard, "But I don't know you," you gently declined. She didn’t budge, for she was more than sure that it would be a piece of cake to have you beneath her roof in the blink of an eye.

"Oh, right, my name is Natalia Romanova,” she introduced herself. “And your name is…?”

Unbeknownst to you, she had long ago stopped using the name Natasha Romanoff. It was an alias she'd adopted during her time as an Avenger back in the United States, but she had renounced that life, therefore, she no longer needed that identity. As for "Black Widow", the mere mention of it now filled her with loathing.

“Nice to meet you, I’m (Y/N),” you replied, trying to sound polite even after your small rejection.

Noticing your slight discomfort, Natasha decided to lighten up the tension that was beginning to build up, going ahead to reach into her pocket and show you a small, perfectly carved wooden figurine.

It was a cat! You adored cats.

"This is Figaro," Natasha introduced you to her little piece of wood, a fond smile adorning her lips. "He's my dear cat. Well, a miniature version of him."

Your eyes were drawn to the marvelous craftsmanship of the figurine. "Wow," you gasped, and your curious fingers itched to touch it, but you held back. "Did you do this?"

"I did,” she confirmed with pride. This woodworking hobby, alongside her tuxedo cat and golden fish, seemed to be the sole source of joy in her miserable existence. “I do this for a living. My house is filled with pieces like this.”

"That's amazing," you replied, genuinely impressed. "I bet they're all as stunning as this one," you remarked, gesturing to the figure in her hand.

Her smile expanded, almost impossibly so. It had been ages since she smiled like this, and perhaps it was twisted of her that the reason was the anticipation of taking you and exploiting you fully.

"Not as stunning as real-life Figaro," she countered, her eyes softening with affection. "Oh, just imagine the softest cloud you've ever seen, now picture it in black and white colors. That's Figaro."

The way Natasha described him with such genuine warmth and affection made your heart squeeze in tenderness, and your defenses were slowly crumbling, just like she predicted. After all, you reasoned, how could someone who talked so lovingly about their cat possibly be dangerous?

"Well,” she concluded, with a small sigh that feigned disappointment. "If you accepted my invitation, you could see him in person. But I understand. It's dangerous to go to a stranger's home. That’s wise of you."

The thought of letting down such a kind-hearted woman was intolerable. How could you possibly walk away after she had been so sweet and kind to you? You finally met someone who treated you with respect, and this was your response? How ungrateful!

"You know, actually," you finally spoke, so quickly they successfully interrupted your recurring thoughts. "I think I'd like to meet Figaro now, if that's okay."

Natasha's face lit up, her emerald eyes sparkling with an intense delight. Everything turned out exactly as she wanted, making her feel like an expert puppeteer effortlessly manipulating the strings of her most treasured marionette.

"Of course it's okay, solnyshko," she replied cheerfully. Anyone with an ounce of reasoning would wonder why she seemed so eager to bring a stranger girl home, but not you. Certainly not you. "You won't regret it, I assure you."

In the small village chambers, lanterns flickered softly, casting shadows that danced and twisted. Initially, these shadows appeared as large, intimidating figures, but upon closer inspection, they transformed into friendly faces with wide smiles. Yet, when their eyes met Natasha, they seldom did not recognize her.

"Natty! Buona notte, cara mia!" They always exclaimed, their voices brimming with enthusiasm and eyes aglow. A dull ache settled in your chest. It seemed wrong to feel that twinge of envy, yet you couldn't recall the last time anyone appeared that delighted to see you, and you couldn't help but long for it to be you to be greeted that way.

Unlike your so-called friends who always insisted on walking ahead, leaving you trailing behind like an afterthought, Natasha walked alongside you. Her emerald eyes occasionally glanced your way, a gentle smile gracing her lips.

The ice cream stain on your dress was still visible, your eyes, though no longer wet with tears, remained red and puffy. Yet, Natasha radiated an intrinsic pride in having you by her side, as if your presence was something to be cherished rather than hidden away.

“Well, here we are,” Natasha exhaled a deep sigh of relief as she turned the key and pushed open the door to her home, inviting you to step inside. The comforting embrace of warmth following the biting chill was a welcome relief.

Unlike most homes, there was no central overhead light. Instead, small lanterns perfectly scattered throughout the space illuminated it cozily.

The entire first level served as Natasha's workplace, living room, dining room, and kitchen, all in one. Though there were no walls dividing these areas, the transitions were clear.

To your left, Natasha's creations dominated the entire corner, making it a challenge to navigate without stepping on something. Positioned by the window was a long table with a variety of well-used tools, including hammers, a saw, screwdrivers, pliers, and wrenches.

On the opposite side, to your right, there was a kitchen, equipped with just a fridge, a sink, and vintage stove, alongside a small wooden table that could seat two people maximum, and you wondered if Natasha had crafted it herself. The middle area displayed a fireplace with a couch positioned in front of it, and on a side table, there was a round fishbowl containing a goldfish, which immediately caught your attention.

"Please, excuse the mess," Natasha remarked with a hint of guilt. She never cleaned her home more than necessary because she never expected visitors, as she preferred to personally deliver everything to those who requested her work, from the smallest souvenir to the most unbearably heavy piece of furniture. You might never have realized it, but you were the first person to set foot in her home by her own will and not because people intrusively knocked on her door to request commissions or to drop off gifts.

"No, no, it's great," you replied sincerely, having already scanned every corner of the place. Her old superhero friends might think this wasn't Natasha at all, but to you, who had only met this side of her, it definitely screamed Natalia everywhere, and all those residents of Collodi could say the same.

"Please, do take a seat!" She exclaimed so energetically that her voice could have echoed throughout the entire neighborhood. Without a moment's hesitation, you went to sit by the fireplace, the gentle flames providing you with so much warmth that you almost forgot the ice cream on your dress. "Stay here, I'll find you some clothes," she added, stepping away without taking her eyes off you, with fear that you might vanish at any moment.

While awaiting the return of the red-haired woman, you swiftly took out your phone to send a message to your friends, letting them know that you were fine and that you would get back soon. In your noble heart, you believed that they might worry about you, even if they were angry at you. However, the way they abandoned you with a stranger and walked away without looking behind unequivocally proved otherwise.

"See if this fits you," the same raspy, indistinct voice made you look up, and you gasped in surprise when you noticed that, in the arm not holding the change of clothes, she was carrying the famous cat Figaro she had told you about. His pupils were dilated due to the dim light, yet you could still notice a faint yellow ring encircling those dark orbs. He stayed calm, allowing his owner to carry him without squirming or resisting.

"Oh, he's gorgeous!" You exclaimed, just a few seconds were enough for this feline to capture your heart.

She chuckled softly, placing the little one on the couch beside you, "Clean clothes and a kitty, just as we agreed."

As if on cue, Figaro suddenly jumped from the couch, his black and white fur almost a comedic, straight-out-of-cartoon blur as he darted across the room and disappeared behind a stack of wooden carvings.

"I should have mentioned, Figaro doesn't like strangers."

You couldn't help but feel a little disappointed, for you had hoped to pet the furry cat, “Oh, that’s okay.”

Noticing your expression, Natasha chuckled, "But don't worry, once you offer him some food, he'll forget all about being shy and will come running back to you,” she reassured you, handing you the neatly folded garments.

"Thank you very much, where can I change?" You inquired, accepting the clothes that seemed extremely comfortable even without considering the chill and sticky stain of your dress.

"You can change here. I'll go upstairs to give you privacy. Just let me know when you're ready," she replied with such sincerity that it was impossible not to believe her.

When she left you alone, she ascended the stairs as she usually did, and when she reached the last step, with great care, she lay down on the floor, peering her head to see you. Never had she been so grateful for the darkness of her abode, for without it, you would have seen her head lurking at the top of the stairs.

Oh, blessed be the moment you chose to wear that dress, for it granted her the exquisite opportunity to admire your entire form, your most desirable parts covered by a black lace lingerie ensemble.

Her hand slowly traveled down to the burning ache that formed between her legs, which pulsed intensely through her already hard length. She tried to soothe the discomfort with a gentle squeeze, however, said action condemned her to complete what she had begun, lest she risk losing her sanity.

Therefore, with her eyes shut tight, she quietly made her way to the bathroom, promising herself to stay silent for just a moment to quell her longing.

She inhaled deeply and rested her hands against the sink. The mirror showed her flushed face, nostrils flaring from her labored breathing, and the familiar vein protruding on her forehead.

She exhaled through her mouth and lowered the zipper of her pants, revealing the fabric of her boxers. Unsurprisingly, there was a slightly darker wet patch of her pre-cum, showing just how much relief her poor member was desperately looking for. Subsequently, she slid her hand under the undergarment, and…

“I’m ready!” She heard your voice from downstairs.

“Yebany v rot,” she cursed between gritted teeth.

She hesitated, debating between coming down to join you, or staying there to prioritize her own needs. Yet, just picturing your eager little face and probably your hungry tummy prompted her to pull up her pants again. With another deep breath, she composed herself as best as she could to return to you.

Seeing you in that attire shattered the fragile composure she had managed to gather, causing her breath to hitch and a tight knot to form in her throat, which she clumsily attempted to swallow down.

You looked so perfect, wearing her clothes, slightly oversized over your frame in a way that was both endearing and domestic, even. Not to mention the fact that you would carry her scent for the rest of the night.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, noticing how her already tense expression worsened the moment her eyes landed on you. You assumed that perhaps the way those clothes fit you wasn't quite right. Maybe she expected them to be more form-fitting, which would mean looking for other clothes, and maybe she was already too tired to deal with that hassle.

"Nothing, it's just that… I'm feeling kind of tense, it's obviously not your fault," she tried to explain. It would be a shame to lie to you, especially when your naive mind already sensed the shift. "Hungry?" she asked, hoping to change the subject to ease your worries and distract herself.

"No, I already ate," you stated with a firmness that would have surprised anyone who had interacted with you, including her. "What's wrong?" you demanded.

Natasha, taken aback, but determined, admitted, "You look beautiful.”

She wasn't by any means shy. She could have taken you right there, knowing you were too weak to defend yourself and would have let her. Nevertheless, she didn't want that. She wasn't interested in being just another opportunist who crossed your path to take what she needed and leave. She wanted to make you so dependent on her that you would desire it in your heart to give it to her.

You furrowed your brow, confusion evident on your face. "Don’t try to distract me," you replied, shaking your head slightly.

With a deep breath, Natasha stepped closer. "Here," she murmured, gently taking your hand, guiding it to the front of her pants.

Your eyes widened in shock as you felt the unmistakable hardness there, provoking you to quickly pull your hand away, your cheeks matching the same deep shade of red as hers.

"I'm so sorry," Natasha apologized, taking a step back. "I shouldn't have... It's just... This is the problem. You're so beautiful, and my body reacted."

You stood there, frozen for a moment, your mind racing. You couldn’t deny, her nurturing and caring nature was irresistibly appealing to you. In some sense, she gave you the hope of reclaiming control and rewriting the story of abandonment that etched deeply into your soul.

"I... I think you're beautiful too," you spoke. "And after everything you've done for me tonight, the least I can do is... help you."

Natasha's eyes widened, a mix of surprise and concern crossing her features. "No, solnyshko. That's not necessary. I shouldn't have put you in this position."

But you took a tentative step forward, your heart pounding but your mind already made up. "I want to," you insisted softly. "Please, I want this."

"No, you don’t," she countered, the word tasting strange on her tongue. The offer you made was tempting, almost unbearably so, but she refused to be just another person you felt indebted to.

“I do,” you reiterated.

And you genuinely did.

Although you considered it strange that someone would reject your attempts to reciprocate those acts of kindness, it could be said that it was the first time it didn't feel like an obligation, but rather an opportunity to finally experience what it’s like to have such a physical connection with someone, let alone someone as attractive as her.

Material possessions were the only things you had relied on so far, so this could even be something unique between her and you.

"I have never done it before, so this is a win-win situation," you continued, trying to persuade her. "I help you, and you teach me."

She gazed into your eyes, discovering a profound yearning. She knew you meant every word, and it made her wonder, if a mere gesture of kindness could inspire such actions in you, to what extent would your commitment go if you became dependent on her?

"Alright," she agreed. "Let’s take it slow, and if you ever want to stop, just say the word."

Natasha reclined gracefully on the couch, parting her legs as an implicit invitation that seemed to compel you to approach her, all without the slightest motion or gesture from her part.

You chose to comply, kneeling between her legs. Despite her evident efforts to assert her dominance, you felt empowered by the mere knowledge that you could elicit such reactions from her, to the point where she was unable to conceal her distress, leaving her with no choice but to confess her attraction to you.

"You’re taking your time," she murmured, her voice evidencing a palpable sense of anticipation.

As you undid her button and unzipped her pants, you could feel the hardness of her member under the touch of your wrists, even when there were two layers of cloth covering it.

And all this for you.

Her cock sprang free and stood at attention after you pulled down the hem of her boxers and pants to below her balls. She remained motionless, not taking her green eyes from yours as you contemplated her arousal.

You knew it was big, and you knew it was agonizingly hard, but the reality overcame any assumptions when you were faced with easily ten inches in length, adorned by multiple prominent veins.

"Please, touch it," she pleaded, her voice abandoning any semblance of composure. Pride, that accursed pride, was meaningless when her body irrefutably ached for you.

Her tip was a deep pink, dripping with droplets of pre-cum. Taking it gently, wrapping your fingers around it, you picked up the droplets with your thumb and spread them around it, making it take on a peculiar sheen.

“Fuck,” she moaned, closing her eyes, and throwing her head back.

That alone gave you the confidence you needed to stroke her cock in up and down movements, successfully making her tremble under your touch.

Her full lips were slightly parted, and her breath came in short, sharp gasps or high-pitched whimpers. It was truly a welcome sight, witnessing someone entrust you with their body, openly displaying such vulnerability before you.

She extended her hand, firmly grasping your wrist, and guided your hand to the base of her erection. Simultaneously, her other hand gently rested on the back of your neck, offering encouragement rather than forcing you.

You wrapped your mouth around her already wet tip, moaning as you savored the warmth of the pre-cum that seemed to keep making itself present. You began to suckle her glans gently, letting your tongue take the place from time to time to tease her hole.

Her hand clutched at your hair, guiding your head as you began to bob up and down on her cock. Her breathing became shallower as you quickly found your rhythm, delighting in the view of half of her dick disappearing into your warm mouth and re-emerging glistening with your saliva and her fluids.

“Goddamn it," she muttered under her breath, her insatiable nature getting the better of her, compelling her to lift her hips upward. It was the way your throat contracted into a gag that made her involuntarily ejaculate her seed, the hot liquid filling your mouth.

“Fuuuck!” She cum in your mouth in one, two, three spurts. It was obvious by how her face contracted in pleasure that she had not anticipated that her cock had taken on a mind of its own, stripping her of any authority over it.

You endeavored to swallow as much as your astonishment and inexperience allowed, yet a gentle cough escaped you, causing a few drops to delicately trickle down your chin.

"Well done, malyshka," were the first words that escaped her lips once her breathing steadied.

You appeared utterly perfect, as you looked up at her with those doe eyes, with the sheen of her release enhancing the fullness and glossiness of your lips. She vowed never to entertain the thought of allowing you out of her sight.

You sealed your fate the moment your paths crossed, but you cemented your doom in that very instant.

[itsabouttimex2]

Eclipse Kings

Part One: Mountain Monkeys

(Part One: You Are Here) (Part Two: Barbed Dusk) (Part Three: Wild Dawn)

(Extra One)

(The eternal kings of Flower Fruit Mountain certainly did not expect a thief smelling of their lost son to invade the palace on the day they intended to mourn his disappearance.)

The people in your village don’t go hungry.

But they’re never full, either.

Abundance is a word whispered only in longing, yet never a reality to be tasted.

Plates are modest—never empty, yet never brimming. Bread and fish are the staples, filling enough to survive but just shy of satisfying. There’s no indulgence here, no clinking glasses of wine or wedges of cheese. The villagers say this is the way of life for those who dwell beneath the gaze of the demon kings of Flower Fruit Mountain.

Once every month each family is expected to deliver a “tribute” to the two demon kings who reign over your village from

And if you “play your part” to the kingdom and make your proper tributes, the kings of Flower Fruit Mountain WILL protect you, your family, your property- that is not a privilege many demons are willing to provide.

Some families choose the customary fruit offering for the little long-tailed monkeys around the mountains. Young, tender fruits like mangoes, starfruits, and papayas are diced into neat chunks, artfully arranged on freshly washed taro leaves, and tied up with twine. The leaves are then hung from the branches of the flowering trees at the mountain’s base, a silent signal for the little monkeys to descend.

These creatures are far from simple animals; they are spirits of the mountain, bound to the Kings, with eyes that shine with uncanny understanding. They clamber down with hungry, chittering excitement, ravenous for the colorful spoils. Villagers know to keep their distance, watching from afar as the monkeys gnaw on the bounty, tearing at the fruit until nothing remains but juice-stained leaves and the echoes of satisfied squeals. The villagers believe the monkeys carry whispers to the Kings, tales of each family’s offering—or lack thereof.

Some of the craftier types (usually those with several little mouths to feed) in the village whittle toys from wood and decorate them with feathers or colorful strips of fabric and leave those about in the woods, saving more food for themselves and their children.

Some villagers, either brave or foolish, choose to journey directly up the mountain with their tributes. This is a long, exhausting up a path that was treacherous, steep, and wild, twisting through the ancient woods that seemed almost alive with the spirits of the many mortals who came before.

They would inevitably be hounded by monkeys and insects, trying desperately to sample the goods before they were given to the mountain lords to be devoured or given as gifts to those few other demon lords that the vaunted simian had compiled as allies.

And though the tribute was mandatorily gathered each month, and every family’s name was marked and closely tracked in a ledger by the sable king, with sufficient enough explanation tribute can be delayed or even outright pardoned- as the Eclipse Kings were fathers themselves, they took mercy upon struggling parents and orphans.

…they probably wouldn’t bat an eyebrow at you, honestly.

Living in a ramshackle hut sank half into the earth and insulated with straw and mud that you had smeared into the ever-growing fractures, it was just enough to tide you safely through the year.

When it grew hot you would pull out all the dirtiest blankets and clothes in your possession, sitting for hours in the shade of the many flowering trees of Mount Huaguo, feet dipped into the cool waters of whatever lake you found first- and you’d shred those tattered fabrics to long strips and bundle them up for kindling in winter.

They would be the last thing to go, only after the dried grass and wood you had gathered months prior were gone, used to melt ice for water or ease the ache of deep chills.

You had accustomed yourself to this cycle- prepare for winter all through summer and fall, then take spring as a chance to relax and live a little more freely.

You had accustomed yourself to it for a while, at least.

And then little MK had come tumbling through your door, sniveling and shaken.

Back then he had been almost too young to speak, too small to voice whatever his fears were, too utterly weak to cry for more than a half-minute before the tiny thing collapsed in your arms.

He hadn’t needed to explain.

The pounding footsteps and booming hollers had told you enough- he was being hunted.

Months prior you had dug a little shallow ditch in the soft mud of your home, then hid it under the stiffest rug you could find, reinforced with bark and smeared with mud for camouflage, praying that it would hold and go unnoticed in the event of a raid such as this.

You hadn’t expected to share it with a toddler, though.

But it had held firm and gone unnoticed even as everything else in your home was overturned and thrown askew, ripped apart by invaders with cheap leather armor and fishing knives- an hastily gathered army, clearly.

Before leaving in anger, the lot of them had shredded through your broken house and thrown their frustrated fists through the crumbling walls, leaving dozens of holes that you would have to patch with naught but straw, hay, and mud.

Winter would be harder this year, and every year after.

Especially with a baby in tow.

You hadn’t the heart to throw MK out, or leave him to the elements, but you hadn’t been brave enough to seek out his parents, either- if someone wanted him dead, then you would be on their list for harboring him, too.

“Y/N,” the young boy squeals, breaking you from reminiscence as he runs up to you with a smile. “There’s monkeys outside again!”

“…huh. Usually they don’t come around here. Make sure you stay away from the door, buddy.”

You turn to face him, only to sigh at his blatant disobedience- he’s toddling straight towards the broken hole you use as an entrance, only covered by a thick sheet of wool- it had been a sweater that grew too dirty for further use, leaving you to use the rancid thing as a weighted tarp to keep out chills.

Soap was a luxury you could rarely get your hands on, which meant it was better used for personal bathing than clothes-tending.

If you or MK; whom you tiredly sweep up into your arms, needed new clothing, you could always head down to the cemetery on a windy night to snatch up all the fabric left as offerings- they could easily be repurposed into makeshift garments.

The boy squirms in your lap, tugging on a lock of your hair to steady himself as he stands up.

“Why can’t I go out and play with the monkeys? I’ll be good, I promise!”

“Monkeys like to eat babies, kiddo. They might snatch you up and throw you into a pot,” you return, poking his squishy little cheek.

“I’m not a baby, and monkeys don’t use pots! Cause they don’t have kitchens!”

“Yeah? I hear they get to use the whole palace on the top of the mountain,” you lie, leaning in to kiss his forehead. “And I hear they take itty-bitty babies up to the ovens to be cooked.”

“…liar.”

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

MK, in spite of his age, is a pretty good sport when it comes to teasing and jesting. He doesn’t hold grudges and doesn’t ask for much. He eats what you give him and never asks for a second plate.

…really, he’s just a good kid.

You’ve done what you can for him. Warm clothes and clean bedding, and the occasional toy when you could scrounge it up. He eats before you do, and you make sure he has the softer portion of whatever meal you’ve scraped together. At night, he sleeps close by, wrapped up in the cleanest blankets you have, his little head nestled against your shoulder. Sometimes, his tiny fingers tangle in your shirt, holding on tight as if, in sleep, he’s afraid of being lost.

You’ve made it through rough times with him at your side, never without purpose as long as you could return to him.

You can make it through anything, you think, as long as you have MK.

But this year, you worry. Winter feels sharper already, creeping into your bones even though it’s only autumn. The flowers on the mountain haven’t died off yet, but the chilly bite warns you that cold days are coming fast. Supplies have been meager; the mountain rains came early, spoiling at least some of the crops before they could be harvested and gathered.

But MK—little, bright-eyed MK—he’s full of life, unafraid, and curious. Where you see danger in the forest’s shadows, he sees playmates and adventure. His world is small—just your home, the patch of trees nearby, and the lakes you risk bringing him to in the break of dawn. He doesn’t yet understand what it means to live with less. To him, the world is a place of wonder.

And you, for all your struggles, feel lighter with him around. His laughter fills the little corners of your life, and his bright chatter fends off the loneliness that once crept in on quiet nights.

“Y/N?” MK’s soft voice pulls you from your thoughts again. “If the monkeys go back to the kings, maybe they could tell them to bring food down here.”

You raise an eyebrow, smiling. “Oh, you think the demon kings will listen to a bunch of monkeys? They’re big and mighty, MK. They don’t worry about little things like the people below.”

“Maybe…” he murmurs, thoughtful, “But maybe if I ask really nice, they’ll listen. Then you wouldn’t be hungry.” His face scrunches up, serious and brave. “I can be nice. Really, really nice.”

Your heart squeezes a little at that, seeing the determination in his young eyes. “Oh, buddy,” you murmur, stroking his hair. “You’re plenty nice. But there are some things we can’t ask for, even from the kings.”

He frowns, thinking it over. “But…maybe if I brought them a really, really good tribute, then they’d listen?”

You stifle a sigh. MK’s generosity knows no bounds—he has so little, yet he dreams of giving. “Let’s not worry about the kings,” you say gently, redirecting his thoughts. “The best thing you can do is keep me company, just like you always do.”

He considers this, nodding, and a smile breaks out on his face again. “Okay!” He hops down from your lap, already chasing after a stray insect that has wandered into your home, flitting in and out of the small rays of sun that pierce through the cracks in the walls.

And you know, as you watch him, that no matter how harsh this winter might be, as long as MK is with you, there will be warmth to hold on to.

“Y’know, I hear that today is the lost prince’s birthday!”

“Really?!” he gasps, his tiny hands clasped in excitement.

You nod, a sly smile playing on your lips. “Yep. Word is, there are grand feasts in his honor, all the way up in the palace on Flower Fruit Mountain.”

His eyes widen, filled with wonder, his mouth forming a perfect ‘o’. “Wow… Can we go see it?”

“Ah, but it’s only for royalty and their guests,” you reply, ruffling his hair. “They guard that palace like hawks. Only those with a golden invitation can even get close. But, this year… I hear that before they eat, they’re going to the village a mountain over to visit their friends this time… and that their guards are going with them.”

He perks up immediately, eyes wide and gleaming- a little ray of lustrous light to match even gold.

“Y/N… are you going to sneak in?”

“I’m gonna rob them blind,” you confirm, squishing his cheeks between your hands. “That’s why I need you to stay inside today, buddy-“

“I’m going up the mountain.”

Those had been the start of your parting words to your surrogate little brother, instilling a brilliant radiance into his wide, innocent eyes. The thought of a belly full of food fit for kings… what orphan didn’t dream of that?

The trek up had been strikingly simple- all the usual simian distractions had retreated to their dens to mourn the lost prince, leaving you with only the occasional fly or gnat to swat away.

No guards. No soldiers. Nothing to stand in your way.

In hindsight it had been foolish to expect things to be so easy, but… the journey up to the peak hadnlulled you into a false sense of security.

The climb grew colder as you neared the palace. The lush forests below gave way to sparse, twisted trees and jagged rocks, their edges sharp enough to draw blood if you weren’t careful. Shadows lengthened as the day waned, and the silence grew thick, broken only by the occasional whistle of the wind through cracks in the stone.

At the top, the palace loomed—a grand structure carved from dark stone, adorned with gilded statues and red banners that snapped and waved in the mountain breeze. It was as silent as a tomb, its towering gates shut tight.

As you reached the summit, a dense mist clung to the air, and the grand stone gates of the palace loomed before you—ornate and ancient, their carved simian figures seeming to leer down with knowing eyes. Despite your heart thundering with the thrill of what you were about to do, you felt a strange weight settle in your chest. The palace was silent, and the eerie hush made it feel like a place caught between realms, haunted by whispers of an ancient power that was never meant to be trifled with.

But in spite of that internal warning you had crept easily enough to the side, and popped open a glinting, golden-framed window, then slid your legs through the maw- and started your thieving crawl through the palace.

The kitchen is laid with a spread so luxurious it makes your stomach clench with hatred and greed- golden plates piled high with delicate fruit, honeyed meat strung from a dozen racks, wine jars glittering with jeweled necks, the air itself thick with the scent of expensive incense and exotic spices.

All for the birthday of the lost prince, you reminded yourself, a prince who had likely never known hunger or hardship.

“Qi Xiaotian,” he had been named, was lost as a babe to a rebellion led several years ago by the discontented people of your village, those who decided that dying by their makeshift blades was better than living under royal heels.

After he had been; presumably, kidnapped by one of the rebels who had broken through the palace gates, the kings had grown cold and harsh, retreating from the world at large and leaving their lavish dwellings only to accept tributes and settle riotous disputes.

…that wasn’t enough to make you feel bad for them, though.

Tray after tray you scout, going through rows of jars, sacks, and baskets overflowed with preserved fruits, dried meats, and delicate pastries. Your hands tremble as you fill a small bundle with as much as it could hold- a handful of salted meats here, a mooncake wrapped in delicate paper there—enough to sustain you and MK for… maybe a month.

Just as you were finishing up, a strange sensation prickled at the back of your neck. You turned, heart thudding, but saw nothing. Just shadows. The silence, however, had shifted, as if holding its breath. Then a voice—low, smooth, and dripping with amusement—broke the stillness.

“Well, well, well… what do we have here?”

You froze, and before you could even think to run, a figure stepped out from the darkness. His robe flowed like liquid night, embroidered with threads that gleamed in the faint light. A crown of twisted vines adorned his head, casting intricate shadows over a face that was as beautiful as it was terrifying.

Beside him is a simian bearing fur the color of sunlight, radiant fur flecked with beads of gold and wound with strings of glimmering citrine. His garments are wrapped with shimmering threads, emphasizing each muscle bulging from below the silk.

The Eclipse Kings of Flower Fruit Mountain: Sun Wukong and the Six-Eared Macaque.

The sable king steps closer, eyes narrowing as he looked down at your small, trembling form. His lips curved into a smirk. “Stealing from the kings of Flower Fruit Mountain. Bold, and… foolish… unless you were planning to pay us back for it?” Prods the long-tailed macaque, poking your crumb-stained cheek with his forefinger.

“I don’t have anything to give,” you whimper, tears of fear and pain beading up in your eyes. “I don’t-“

“Hush hush hush!” Coos the brighter of the kings, moving to lightly swat his mate’s hand from your chin with a dramatic flourish of his claws. “Moonlight, look at this little one!”

As the king who had caught you steps back to make space for his husband, the golden monkey snatches you by the waist and lifts without so much as straining a muscle, clearing your feet well from the ground. His golden tail wraps lazily into an approximation of a heart, bouncing around happily.

“Just look at you, dumpling! Such a cute little thing rummaging around in our cabinets, hmm? Were you too hungry to stay away?”

“…you shouldn’t give grace to such a naughty thief, Peaches,” says the umbral king, holding his hands out to you. “Let me see them.”

Although this one is clearly the icier of the two, he holds you with care in spite of needing to exert more effort than his mate.

“Usually,” the golden simian chirps with glee, “we would execute thieves on the spot! My mate’s cleaved more than a few right down the middle for snatching from our castle.” His face is pulled into an easygoing grin, tail still excitedly wagging.

“I stopped doing that a long time ago,” snaps the darker monkey. “It takes forever to clean bloodstains, and maids are hard to come by, Peaches. I don’t need them wasting their time scrubbing down my carpets.”

“Our.”

“Shut up, you damn-“

“And speaking of what’s “ours”… what do we do with this little thing?”

The two monkeys look over you with varied looks, one grinning ear to ear as he pokes at your cheeks and strokes your hair, the other more restrained with only a cocked eyebrow.

“…what we usually do to thieves and trespassers.”

The feeling in your gut isn’t unlike a falling icicle, coldly sundering any hope you had of making it out of this castle alive. You were going to die. You were going to die and never see your brother again, and then he was going to starve all alone in that awful little hut.

You were going to die alone.

You were going to die unloved.

The golden king sounds a pitying gasp as tears begin to spill over your cheeks and trickles down your chin, splattering onto the polished marble floors below.

The air in your lungs begins to quickly fade, replaced with sharp gasps for breath interspersed with desperately babbled apologies. Sorry after sorry after sorry after-

“Little one, little one! Shh, shh,” the Great Sage pleads, scooping you into his powerful arms. “Shhhh, shhh, there there… it’s okay, dumpling… please, no more tears… you’ll just break this old monkey’s heart, you know that?”

“Stop fussing,” demands his mate, reaching over to card through your messy hair. “You aren’t going to manipulate us.”

“I- I’m not- no, I’m not- that’s not-“

“Shhhh! Be a good little mortal and shush! No more words, little one!” Macaque, what are you even-“

“Haven’t you noticed how they smell?”

The golden king freezes, glittering eyes going wide as his mate points out something he sincerely hadn’t noticed at all- that your scent is indeed strikingly familiar in a way that shreds out his heart and leaves him weak.

Sun Wukong, Great Sage Equal to Heaven, Handsome Monkey King- buries his face into the top of your hair, cradling you like a babe as his lips ghost the crown of your scalp, not unlike a father bidding his child goodnight with a kiss. He breathes in deep, taking the scent into his lungs and chest and holding it tighter than he holds you, only gasping it back out when breathless tears prick his eyes.

“…you smell like our son,” he whispers, holding you tighter and tighter. “I thought I was never going to- I thought I was going to die before I ever felt this- I- no, it- it’s like… gods, it’s like he’s here with us. Macaque, what do… what do we do?”

“…mortals don’t have the same scents as demons. They’re not as complex or strong. The only way a mortal gets the same scent as a demon is to spend hours with them.”

“So he’s alive”, Wukong croaks, the air in his lungs warbling with the effort to stay steady. “Our baby boy is alive. Macaque, he’s still here. Gods, he must’ve been lonely. He was so little, Macaque! He… he’s still alive.”

Wukong drops sharply to his knees, setting you on the ground with the downwards crash. The gold-veined marble cracks under the force of his movement, a testament to well-hidden power.

“Sweetie,” he coos, speaking to you as one speaks to a startled toddler,” “tell me- tell about all of your friends. Start to finish, okay? Can you do that for me, sweetie? I need to know who all they are.”

There’s a deep, desperate pleading in his voice, golden eyes scrunched to hold back tears.

“Please, please. Please tell me you know where my baby is.”

He’s so brokenly hopeful, so pleadingly anguished, so despairingly optimistic that give in to the welling guilt and admit-

“I only h-have one- he- his name is… it’s MK. He… he has brown hair and black eyes, and he’s… his favorite color is orange. He-“

Macaque screams.

He screams louder than the winds howl atop the mountain in winter, louder than tornados roar in the dry spells of summer, louder and louder and louder with each consecutive shriek until gilded windows shatter and silver braziers are snuffed.

“THAT’S HIM,” the sable king wails, throwing a fist through a solid sheet of the gold wall before him. “THAT’S MY BABY!!”

He rips his bleeding arm from the opulent ruin and tackles Wukong in a fit of relieved tears and broken openness, leaving the two tumbling in an eclipse of hues, gold and ebony rolling together on a red carpet.

They embrace in a moment of sheer, mind-numbing relief, wailing together that their beloved son hadn’t been lost, so utterly allayed that they almost forget there’s a world spinning around them.

You take your chance, and dart from the room, footsteps dulled by the luxurious carpet below.

They’ll realize that you’re gone any minute, and raise a din and raise their army- you can imagine them in the village already, desperately offering armfuls of gold and silver to any who can find you or drag you from whatever hiding place you’ve snuck to, to anyone who can return their last ticket to reuniting with their precious little cub.

You don’t even turn a single corner before what sounds like four steps of footsteps sound, racing close behind- too scared to look back, you simply fling yourself from the nearest broken window and pray you’ll land safely.

Sure enough, there’s a peach tree just below you, providing an uncomfortable cushion that prevents any fractures or breaks, thought not without shredding your arms and knees against the rough and untrimmed branches.

But losing a little blood wasn’t much when you were already afraid to lose your life.

The night air feels is oppressively thick, bitingly cold as you scramble down from the branches, your whole body aching from scratches and bruises.

It hurts, but not as much as the thought of losing MK hurts.

Every cut burns, but fear drives you forward as you push through the dark orchard. Peaches litter the ground beneath the trees, bruised and rotting, filling the air with their sickly-sweet scent. You can still hear the faint echo of anguished screams from the castle above, and you know you have to keep moving, no matter how heartbreaking the noise.

Branches continue to scratch at your skin as you hurry through the orchard, weaving between the twisted trunks of ancient peach trees. The cries of the two kings haunt you, but your heart pounds with a different terror—a need to survive, to get back to MK and keep him safe.

Swallowing hard, you push onward into the forest, where the air turns colder and the ground is uneven, littered with stones and roots. It’s dark, and the towering trees block out even the faintest hint of moonlight, leaving you to stumble blindly forward, each step a gamble.

Your lungs burn, each breath sharper than the last as you push through the dense underbrush, your only light the faint silver of cloud-breaking starlight piercing through gaps in the canopy. You can’t help but glance over your shoulder, half-expecting to see the flash of golden eyes in the shadows.

You’ve had your fill of gold and silver- that gleam has quickly lost all luster.

In your scramble down the mountain path, you nearly trip over a root hidden under the leaf-strewn ground, catching yourself just in time. You can feel a faint ache in your chest as you think about MK, probably huddled up alone, waiting for you to come back. You bite back the surge of guilt for leaving him and going so far in the first place; there’s no time for regret, no time for anything but survival.

So you fervently press on, slipping and sliding overrocks and mud, your hands numb and cold as you cling to branches to steady yourself.

You’re going to feel like hell in the morning.

Every step feels heavier, but the thought of MK—waiting, maybe scared and hungry—keeps you upright. You cling to that memory like a lifeline, using it to drag yourself forward when exhaustion claws at you, urging you to collapse into the moss and leaves.

Just as you’re ready to push on, you hear something rustle behind you, faint but distinct. Your heart skips, and for a split second, you’re sure it’s them—the kings, tracking you, maybe already upon you, with Wukong’s wild desperation and Macaque’s icy agony close on your heels. You whip your head around, pulse thundering dangerously fast in your chest. But there’s nothing there, only shadows that play tricks on your eyes.

It’s just the wind, you lie to yourself.

Yet, no sooner have you relaxed than you hear another sound—a soft murmur, almost like…laughter? It’s chilling, unnervingly familiar, a low chuckle that seems to drift from the very darkness around you. You start running, branches whipping against your cheeks, the laughter echoing in the trees like mocking ghosts.

As you push further, the underbrush begins to thin, the ground leveling out into a narrow path long worn into the mountain. Relief fills you as you recognize it—the way back to the village, back to MK. But just as you think you’ve escaped, a figure steps out from behind a nearby tree, blocking the path ahead.

It’s Macaque.

The dark-furred king stands there, arms crossed, his piercing gaze fixed on you. His tail lashes behind him, giving away a tension that his otherwise calm expression doesn’t. “Running away, little rabbit?” he purrs, voice smooth and soft, velvet hiding a dagger. “You thought we wouldn’t find you?”

Panic coils tighter around your heart. You don’t answer, can’t answer, with your breath shallow and eyes locked on his, searching for any hint of mercy. Yet, even in your fear, you see the pain in his eyes, the raw, unhealed wound that losing a son has left behind.

He takes a step closer, and you instinctively back up—until your heel catches on a loose stone, and you stumble. Macaque moves in a flash, catching you before you can fall, his grip like iron around your arm. There’s a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes, almost as if he’s hesitant, but it vanishes just as quickly.

At that moment, you feel a warm presence nearby, and a golden glow illuminates the path. Wukong appears behind Macaque, his expression far softer than his husband’s. He looks at you with tearful eyes, earlier desperation simmering beneath his clouded gaze. “We just want to know where our son is, sweetie,” he says, voice coaxing. “Help us find him, and we can put all of this behind us.”

For a moment, you’re trapped between them, their eyes—glowing —boring into you with the weight of ages, burning on either side of you. You are prey, trapped in the gaze of ancient predators, creatures who could tear you apart if they chose.

You feel a lump rising in your throat, guilt twisting in your chest. You want to help them, to tell them more, to ease that raw grief carved into their souls. But how could you? MK didn’t remember them. He’d never once spoken of a family, of a past like theirs.

Would it really be a betrayal to bring him to people who could no doubt care for him better than you ever could?

You rip from his clawed grasp with a sob, blood spilling from your arm where his nails were clutched tight- and then step back.

Air whistles around you through the sharp plummet, blaring out the wails of the two kings. It’s not too long of a fall, it won’t break or kill you- it’s just one more thing that’s going hurt tomorrow, when you wake up next to MK -and you will wake up next to him- and bid him “good morning”.

As you fall, the world blurs around you, and for a moment, there’s only the rush of air and the distant cries of the kings above. The impact comes suddenly—a jolt that rattles every bone in your body as you hit the shallow puddle below, your vision sparking with a burst of white. Pain blooms in your side, sharp and searing, but you manage to roll onto your hands and knees, gasping for breath. Everything aches, but you’re alive. And more importantly, you’re closer to the outskirts of the village, closer to MK.

You rise shakily, wiping a streak of blood from your face. The path ahead is illuminated by starlight growing ever fainter, barely peeling through even the sparsely dotted trees.

The half-hovel is only a short walk away, barely three meters from your spot of impact, leaving you to start crawling; hands and knees alight with pain, to that little refuge.

Every inch forward feels like a mountain climbed, your breath coming out in ragged gasps, as you drag yourself closer to that pitiful excuse for a home. The hut is run-down, its roof half-collapsed, with walls patched by whatever scraps you could find. But right now, it’s the only place that feels safe, and the only place where MK will be waiting for you.

Your fingers scrape against rotted as you pull yourself up onto the threshold, bracing against the shattered doorframe, steadying your shaking limbs. The inside is dim, with just the faint embers of the fire you lot in that little stone pit, the weak light casting long shadows against the walls. And there, curled up on a ragged mat, is MK—sleeping soundly, his tiny form bundled up in a blanket far too thin for the chill in the air.

You feel relief rush over you like a wave, washing away the pain and exhaustion, if only for a moment. You swallow back tears as you carefully lower yourself beside him, reaching out a trembling hand to brush a lock of hair from his face. He stirs at the touch, eyes fluttering open with a groggy mumble, his gaze unfocused at first before he realizes it’s you.

“You’re back,” he whispers, his voice small and sleepy, a hint of worry melting into relief as he reaches for your hand. “I… I thought you weren’t coming back this time.”

“I’d never leave you, MK. Not for anything.” Your voice wavers, and you squeeze his hand tighter, trying to push down the overwhelming flood of emotions. “I’ll always come back for you.”

He smiles—a soft, innocent smile that nearly breaks you. You can’t tell him what happened, can’t bear the thought of burdening him with the danger you faced tonight, or the kings who would give anything to find him.

Instead you settle beside him, draping an arm over his small shoulders as he curls up against you, his warmth seeping into your aching bones.

“Did you get any food?” he asks tiredly, eyes drooping shut again.

You reach for the cloth bundle on your back and pull it off, watching all four corners unravel and flutter open as it’s tossed into the ground-

It’s all still there. Busted, bruised, some of it mangled, but it’s still there. Fruit, veggies, nuts, meat, and even sweets.

Just like you promised.

The boy (a prince, you’ve learned) squeals with delight, clambering over to sample the spoils of your hellish night. He settles for cramming his little face with an assortment of the pilfered banquet, accidentally crushing some bit of it into crumbs with how badly his hands shake from excitement.

It’s only when he’s full enough to pause that MK looks over to you with a frown, clambering over with a mooncake held tight in his little hands- and then he pushes it to your mouth.

“Say ‘ahhh’!”

Even through the agony pricking through your skin, a smile forms- such a sweet little thing he’s grown into, even in these… limited circumstances.

“…aaaah”, you acquiesce, allowing him to nudge the pastry between your parted lips, eating half of it in one go.

“…good?”

“Really good, buddy.” You take another bite, swallowing the rest with some small satisfaction. “I’m gonna take a quick nap, okay?”

“…promise you’ll wake up.”

Oh, gods. That hurt. Sometimes you forgot how perceptive the boy was, how eager and clever. How could you think he wouldn’t notice the suffering crawling all through your body?

“Oh, kiddo. I will wake up, I promise. I’m just tired. I’ll wake up and start a fire, and we can roast the meat and nuts to warm ‘em up, okay? I promise.”

He doesn’t seem too convinced, but settles into a hushed state as he polishes off a mango and ties up the bundle again.

“You better,” the little one huffs, looking over to see that you’ve already fallen asleep. He shuffles to his little chest and pulls out the cleanest blanket he has, draping it over your shoulders before starting to crawl in with you-

Right until a knock sounds on the outer wall of the hut.

MK freezes, clutching the edge of the blanket, his wide, black eyes darting to the door. The thin walls do little to muffle the gentle, deliberate tapping. His face twists in confusion and fear, and he inches back toward you, pressing himself close against your side, trying to make himself as small as possible. He can hear his own heartbeat hammering in his chest, the room so silent that each beat feels like a drum signaling his hiding place.

The knock sounds again, a steady rhythm that’s somehow polite but insistent, as if the person on the other side knows exactly what lies within and won’t leave without answers. The thought tightens MK’s chest with dread. He glances at you, wanting you to wake, but exhaustion has claimed you too fully. He shifts, leaning close to your ear, whispering with all the urgency his little body can muster.

The matted wool curtain is pulled aside, and a long shadow falls over the two of you.

It’s Wukong.

He’s not dressed in the regal robes from before, his crown and adornments discarded somewhere along the journey down the mountain. He looks oddly… humbled, vulnerable even, his golden fur matted and streaked with grime. He too has trekked through brambles and mud to find this place.

In that moment, the fierce, untamed warrior, the Great Sage Equal to Heaven, reduced to a father—nothing more, nothing less—just a father, lost and found in the presence of his child.

“My son.”

MK stiffens, eyes going wide with confusion and a strange, nameless feeling that curls tight in his chest. The voice calls to something deep within him, something he doesn’t understand yet can’t ignore. He doesn’t remember this voice, but he feels it as though he’s always known it—like a lullaby, like the whisper of leaves in the wind.

MK clutches the edge of your blanket tighter, his face a mixture of uncertainty and fear as he looks up at the stranger in the doorway. Wukong’s gaze softens further, and he steps into the dim light, eyes filled with a desperate hope tempered by patience. He’s careful, his movements gentle and measured as he crouches down, bringing himself to MK’s eye level.

“Do you know me, little one?” he asks, voice trembling slightly as he waits, searching MK’s expression for any glimmer of recognition.

MK tilts his head, brow furrowing as he studies Wukong. There’s a flicker in his black eyes—a hint of familiarity that he can’t quite place, something ancient and deep inside him stirring, like a faint memory from a distant dream. But he shakes his head slowly, his lips pressed together as he shrinks back a little, still clutching the blanket.

Wukong’s face falls, his shoulders sagging with the weight of his grief. He swallows, fighting back the tears that threaten to spill. “I… I thought maybe you’d remember.” His voice is barely a whisper, so soft that it sounds like a confession, a plea.

But Wukong quickly straightens, forcing a small, trembling smile. He can’t bear to scare his child, can’t bear to make him feel any more uncertain than he already does. “It’s okay,” he says, his voice still gentle, though there’s a glimmer of resolve in his eyes. “It’s okay if you don’t remember, little one. I’m here now, and I’m not going anywhere.”

He glances down at you, still asleep beside MK, his expression softening with gratitude. Despite everything, despite the fear and pain you must have faced, you had cared for his son, protected him in his absence. There’s a flicker of respect, maybe even admiration, in his gaze.

But then, before he can say anything else, the curtain shifts, and Macaque steps into the hut as well, his dark, intense gaze zeroing in on MK. His movements are slow and deliberate, as though afraid that anything too sudden might frighten the boy. He stops just inside the threshold, his usual sly demeanor replaced with a vulnerability that’s almost startling.

“…my baby.”

The weight of those two words settles over MK like a blanket of warmth, a feeling he doesn’t quite understand . Still, it stirs a pull in his heart that defies reason. He glances at you again, hoping for some guidance, some sign of what to do—but you’re still sound asleep, completely oblivious to the quiet storm raging in his heart.

After a moment, MK opens his mouth, and his voice, so soft and uncertain, trembles through the space.

“Why don’t I remember you?”

The question, so small yet filled with an innocence that pierces both kings, brings a quiet gasp from Wukong. He reaches up to touch his chest, struggling to contain the ache there. He can’t meet MK’s eyes for a moment, his gaze fixed on the floor as he takes a shuddering breath.

“That’s… that’s because you were very young when we… when we lost you, my little peach,” Wukong finally whispers, his voice hoarse. “You wouldn’t remember us, not after so long, but… we’ve missed you every single day.”

MK steps forward for a moment, wanting and wanting and feeling so very loved-

But then the boy pulls his hand back, glancing at you beside him, his expression suddenly filled with uncertainty. “But… I already have someone,” he says softly, nodding to your prone form. “They take care of me. They’re… my family.”

“We’ll take them too,” Wukong spits out, dropping to his knees and becoming his lost son forward. “All four of us can go home together, Xiaotian. Like… like a big, happy family.”

Macaque steps forward shaking with the effort spent to not rush him immediately. “That’s right, baby. We’ll take you, and… and we’ll take the little thief, and we can go home. Together.”

MK looks back at you, so broken and worn that he fears you might not make the night without someone else’s help- the thought straightens his brow, and sets his little head into a stiff nodding motion.

Finally, he could help you, just as you had helped him so long ago.

“Ok. Let’s go home- all of us, together.”

[vampsywrites]

forest boy.

synopsis: you are tsakarem (tsahik-in-training) of the metkayina clan, promised to ao'nung. however it seems that things take a turn when you catch the attention of a certain forest boy.

tags: fluffy drabble, fem! metkayina! reader, a test post to see if this fandom still lives lol, jealous! ao'nung, pining! neteyam, love at first sight! neteyam, subtle tsireya x lo'ak, reader and ao'nung are parallels of ronal and tonowari

part 2 here

The bellow of a horn echoed throughout the village, accompanied by the fluttering of an Ikran's wings. Both you and Tsireya halted your light conversation, laughter dying down as your attention was drawn to the exotic mountain banshees flying above. Sharing a curious glance, both of you moved towards your Ilu's, making haste towards the sandy shores.

From afar, you could see how a family of forest Na'vi dropped down to the sands. They seemed apprehensive, led by a tall man dressed in exotic gear.

"Isn't that the Olo'eyktan from the Omatikaya clan?" Tsireya whispered, her voice barely audible. "What could possibly bring them here?"

"I have no idea," you replied, dismounting from your ilu as you approached the shore, Tsireya mirroring your actions.

As you dipped your head in the water, you pushed yourself upward, breaking through the surface. With a graceful motion, you brushed aside your damp hair, allowing it to cascade down your shoulders in a shimmering display.

Just then, your eyes locked with one of the strange forest people. Almost immediately, he bowed low, gesturing to you by placing his fingers on his forehead and extending one hand down. Smiling, you gestured back, returning the greeting with a nod of your head. The forest boy seemed pleased by your response, and his eyes sparkled with interest.

As Neteyam's gaze fell upon you, he couldn't help but become entranced by the mesmerizing shade of aquatic blue that adorned your skin, gracefully accompanied by flowing white stripes resembling gentle waves. The captivating allure of your large, penetrating blue eyes seemed to delve into the depths of his soul and he found himself speechless, mouth running dry.

Taking in your petite stature, the fin-like formations on your arms and legs piqued his curiosity, evoking images of elegant aquatic creatures. Your attire, intricately woven and embellished with coral, shells, and delicate trinkets, complemented your features perfectly, adding to your captivating appearance.

"You're staring, skxawng," Lo'ak snorts, playfully knocking his brother's side. Neteyam huffs, feeling a tinge of embarrassment as he quickly averts his gaze. "Shut it," he retorts, trying to brush off the moment.

As their father engaged in conversation with the newcomers, a group of boys broke away from the crowd, heading towards the brothers. Lo'ak and Neteyam exchanged quick gestures of greeting, but received no response in return.

Neteyam's gaze sharpened as he observed the group encircling them, a hint of caution in his eyes. One of them then laughed heartily, pointing at their tail, "What is that? Is that supposed to be a tail? How are they supposed to swim?"

"Do not!" Tsireya hisses, swiftly moving to smack Roxto's hand away. Sensing the tension, you saunter towards them, joining Tsireya in scolding the boys. "Be nice," you chide firmly.

Neteyam's attention shifts, his gaze locked on you as you approach Ao'nung and place a firm hand on his bicep.

In that moment, Neteyam witnesses a silent conversation unfold between the two of you, communicating with nothing but your eyes.

'You are being mean again,' you assert, raising your eyebrows and fixing your intense gaze upon the Metkayinan boy. Ao'nung blinks slowly, a dull look on his face. With a click of his tongue, he shuts his eyes and huffs in resignation. 'I know,' he concedes.

As all four of you shift your attention back towards the newcomers, Tsireya beams with enthusiasm, her warm greeting echoing once more, "We welcome you."

Lo'ak acknowledges her with a nod and a mumbled greeting, and you can't help but notice Tsireya's endearing reaction. Her cheeks flush, and her smile turns almost bashfully giddy as she glances down at her feet, clearly charmed by the interaction.

Months had passed since the Sully's integration into your village. You couldn't help but admire their quick learning, seamlessly adapting to the ways of the water in less than a month. As you spent more time training with them, your bond with the siblings grew stronger, particularly with endearing little Tuk, who always seemed eager to drag you along the shore to play.

'This is going to be interesting.'

Amidst the camaraderie, not everyone got along. Fights frequently arose between Ao'nung and the two Sully brothers, resulting in heated scuffles, both physical and verbal. And while Ao'nung and Lo'ak seemed to have made some progress in improving their relationship, the situation with Neteyam remained…unresolved at best.

"Ao'!" You gasp out, flinching back when he tackles Neteyam to the ground. The two boys exchange hits with fervor, their fists flying in rapid succession as they grapple with each other.

"Oh, you skxawngs!" you huff, unable to contain your frustration any longer. You grab hold of Neteyam's tail, pulling him off Ao'nung and breaking up the fight. "What is wrong with you two?!"

"I told him to back off!" Neteyam snarls, his hand pressed against a blossoming bruise on his torso. Ao'nung clicks his tongue, rolling his shoulders as he stands up, his expression defiant. "Maybe you should back off my mate."

The tension in the air remains palpable as emotions run high, leaving you caught in the middle of the escalating conflict. You don't miss how Neteyam's shoulders drop, his mouth agape as his eyes dart between the two of you.

Confusion fills his gaze as he stammers, "Mate?"

"I am Tsakarem," you affirm, taking a step towards Ao'nung's side to assess his injuries. "But it's bold of you to claim that I'm your mate," you add, clicking your tongue disapprovingly. Neteyam, catching your mocking tone, seems to perk up and grin

"Don't get too excited, forest boy," Ao'nung grumbles, his gaze drilling holes into Neteyam's head, "She is still promised to me."

Sighing you tuck your head into his shoulder, begging him to shut up.

May Eywa help you.

[vacayisland]

I have the largest hyper fixation on Floyd right now. Funny little troll being way too cute for it to be legal.

do you think you could write a story where a male / Non-binary reader that's like, a large person thing, (You can make them part animal if possible, I like the idea of Floyd hiding in the readers fur for comfort.) is reunited with Floyd after he was stick in the diamond perfume bottle for 2 months. And they just give Floyd a bunch of comfort cuddles and other stuff.

Take all the time you need to rest and drink water, if you can't do my request, that's perfectly fine. I hope you have an amazing day / night!

-A non-binary bee 🐝

@!; Floyd with a part-animal Reader! Floyd / Half-animal! Half-Troll! Reader

"Summary"! Couldn't tell if you meant big like tall or big like cubby... so why not both? :D Anyways, there are more headcanon style with little stories in it. Dunno when I'll post this (I have like 5 other stories backed up b/c my mind can't decide what to write); But I hope you like it Bee! Tags! Floyd literally being everything, no pronouns mentioned so feel free to use your own, hurt-comfort, NOT PROOF READ... also wrote in one sitting... in one day. AND TUMBLR KEPT GLITCHING ON ME AND THE PITCTURE BORDER ISN'T WORKING ON DESKTOP-. anyways please enjoy <3

@!; Floyd has known you since his band days, which was a shock to his brothers when they finally met you. Not only are you taller than an average troll (a foot or so) yet you're also different; and mostly in a good way, but take what you will about the fact that Branch noticed your differences first. When Floyd first met you, it was 2 months into his boyband career with Brozone. He went out on a walk to clear his head before a big show, anxious feels were never good to go on stage with and his brothers didn't help much. Mostly John Dory, who kept speaking about his "perfect" plan to the show. Just thinking about messing up anything made Floyd more nervous than preforming, he really didn't want to let his brothers down; as he's seen them preform before he was able to join on the scene. So while JD ranted, Spruce worked out, and Clay was fitting into his costume, Floyd went out on a needed walk. That's when he found you;

You were stood up top a mountain cliff near the Pop troll village, looking down with your majestic eyes and ears relaxed down by your side. Floyd stood by the village though hid in the shade of the plants nearby to watch. He didn't want to scare you off, especially since he's never seen anything quite like you. You seemed memorized by the lights of the Pop troll village, if not maybe a little intoxicated by them; like a moth to the flame. Floyd was memorized by your shiny coat, which he could barely see against the night sky and the bright colors of the village. You didn't seem to notice him at all as you laid down at that cliff, crossing your paws and laying your muzzle down on them. Floyd wasn't sure why but watching you watching the lights of the village calmed his nerves. Even though it was still a little nerve racking thinking that an animal so big knows were the village was; an animal who could possibly eat Trolls. Yet, that thought was quickly wavering out of his mind the more passive you seemed. @!; Floyd almost missed the show that night, Spruce had to go find him before JD blew a fuse. He was questioned like hell the few seconds before the show and then afterwards, yet he couldn't exactly tell his brothers that he saw an animal watching the village and that's what he was doing. They would be both over worried and a little relentless in scolding him for getting so close to something that could eat trolls. His absence of an answer, and his general dodging of the brothers questions (when that was so not like Floyd) led them all to assume that Floyd met a Troll that had caught his eye. Floyd tried to protest against this, yet was a little flustered at the fact that all his brothers seemed to jump on that conclusion train so quickly. So, that only solidified his brother's theories more and thus began the hunt. All his brothers kept an extra eye on Floyd, trying to see who the lucky Troll had been who caught there ever so sensitive brother's eyes. Despite all their "sneaky" tracking and slight stalking, they came up with nothing. Floyd was determined to let them not know what, or maybe who, he actually saw that night. So he didn't see you again until his brothers gave up on their little hunt and let Floyd to his own devices. Especially after he almost messed up a show due to nerves from not being able to go out on a walk without his brother's bombardment; JD wasn't happy. 3 months after first seeing you, Floyd was able to catch a glimpse of you again. Before a show, he looked out the window (not needing to go out on a walk that night) and saw your figure again in the distance on the same hill. You were relaxed again, laying down and looking intently towards the Village. In some weird sense, Floyd had a funny thought that you were here to listen to the concert; seeing as he didn't see you on any other night than concert nights. Yet, he shook that thought out of his head really quick, not thinking that you could like Brozone music. Not that it was because you weren't a Troll, but because he thought it was too loud for your ears; he's read somewhere that animal ears tended to be more sensitive than Troll ears. But then why would you be so close to the Village? The thought stuck in Floyd's mind all throughout the performance and when he checked if you were still at the cliff after the show, you were gone. He couldn't tell if it was because of the noise or because the show had ended; but he felt a little disheartened.

@!; Floyd would play this one-sided game of eye-spy for months before he spotted a night when you weren't you. He had began to make it a habit to leave you a little plate of food (well little for you) before every Brozone performance. His personal thank you for watching the show despite your (maybe) sensitives ears. He was going to go place the plate of food at the top of the cliff when he stopped midway through his hike to see a Troll standing at the top of the cliff. At least, it looked like a Troll? Yet they seemed taller, even more so when Floyd slowly approached closer. Your hair also was more abundant than other Trolls, even for adults. He was cautious as he approached you, keeping the plate of food close to him as he tried to scope out who you were before he interacted. Yet before he could figure out who you were, you snapped your head around to stare into the dead of night . . . directly at him. Floyd froze, not sure if you could see him or not and not wanting to find out. Though it was light you weren't even a Troll for a second, taking in a sniff before your hair stood up for a moment; prickling like a cat's hair standing up when frightened. Slowly you approached him with heavy footsteps, your height slowly growing in the moonlight as your shadow was drawn out. For a moment Floyd thought he was as good as dead. He didn't know what to do! Frazzled, he quickly shoved out the plate of food he had indented for his friend and not this stranger about to commit (possible) cannibalism. And that's when he heard your footsteps come to a stop and a heavy huff from someone's nose hit the top of his head, causing him to cautiously open one eye. And he felt like fainting as soon as he did that. Though he couldn't help opening both eyes in complete terror seeing a Troll tower over him in an unnatural height. Your eyes pierced down at him, their glow in the moonlight somehow familiar yet Floyd could not piece it together at this moment of panic. "Please don't eat me!" Floyd blurted out, the only thing between him and you being a plate of food. Yet you didn't answer, at least not right away. Your silence was as terrifying as your glare and staggering height. "I promise you I don't taste good!-" The words fell out before Floyd had even realized he had said them, watching with terror as you leant down. He wasn't sure what you were doing, but he hoped it wasn't serving your next meal's horror before deciding whether or not you should eat him. Yet there was something in your eyes that softened, a small smile that seemed to creep onto your lips. And for once after meeting you in this form, Floyd felt like he wasn't going to get mauled. Which was a good thing, a really good thing... For him at least. "So you're the one who's been leaving me food!" Your voice was not at all how he imagined it, as it seemed to carry some sort of friendliness he's not even heard from some Trolls. It was also a bit rougher, your English oddly unperfected for a Troll for the age Floyd guessed you were. "I-.. uh, what?" Though what did you mean Floyd was leaving you food? Maybe you were confusing him for someone else, or maybe you were eating the food he intended for his friend. Either way he tried to clear the confusion, "I'm sorry no, I don't think so. I've been leaving food here for.." "Yes, for me." You interrupted Floyd before he could finish, giving him a rather big grin. Yet, no matter how friendly you seemed, your words caused him to become that more confuddled. Even more so when you held out your hands flat, as though you were expected Floyd to just hand you the plate ... really incorrectly. He thought for a brief moment that you may be related to the animal that perches itself at the cliffside, though he didn't think too long on that possibility; as would it even be possible?

Either way, to save some trouble for now, Floyd carefully handed you the plate of food; watching as you held it from the bottom flat in your hands and grinned brighter before rushing off to the side of the cliff. He wasn't sure if he should follow you or not. "Come, friend! We eat to show!" You gestured for Floyd to follow as you sat at the iconic cliff he's seen the animal so many times. And despite his hesitation, and his logicality telling him not to, he deiced to join the Troll. I mean, what could be the harm? Floyd almost missed his performance that day. JD wasn't happy yet, oddly enough, something inside Floyd made him rather indifferent. Not uncaring, because he always cared about his brothers feelings and letting down JD was last on his list; yet, he didn't care as much as he should have. And that caught him by suprise. He wondered if it had to do something with you...

@!; The day the band broke up, Floyd went to seek you first. You two had grown close after the countless nights you spent upon the cliff, chatting and eating. Floyd just couldn't stand being able to leave without giving you a proper goodbye, you have been his closest friend outside his family after all. He found you lower on the cliff this day, still stalking in your animal form. Your ears were completely pinned back, and he was sure you had saw what had happened during that performance; it was the biggest disaster storm ever. "Hey! H-" Floyd didn't even have to call you twice before you perked up, snapping your attention over to him. He grew sheepish seeing your sudden smile, and he could only guess you had been utterly worried about him since the performance. Though he didn't expect you to be so worried you would bound towards him on all fours, causing him to yelp and quickly brace for impact. Yet, you never hit, and Floyd heard as you skidded yourself to a stop right in front of him and plopped down on your bottom. Letting out an excited yelp before licking him once, then twice. Causing him to laugh and try to push your snout away, a silent signal for you to turn back into a Troll. Which you didn't seem to get the hint for instantly, as you licked him thrice before standing up and twirling in a circle. Laughing, Floyd covered his eyes and let you turn back, opening them only when he heard your voice again; "Floyd! What in the hell happened out there?! One minute you guys were doing fine and it seemed like-" Your voice was as lovely as ever, and Floyd instantly felt a pang in his heart knowing he wouldn't be able to hear it as often anymore. His face became rather gloomy at that sudden realization he hadn't thought of before now. Maybe visiting you wasn't- no, he can't think like that! You deserved the truth as much as Branch did. He can't simply walk off and keep you sitting here, watching and wondering where he had gone for years on end. That wasn't right. "(y/n)!" Floyd jolted at the suddenness of his voice, and how firm it sounded. He didn't mean for his words to come out so harsh, though your ranting didn't do much to help his heart... or the decision he knew he had to make. Oh and your eyes, the way they shone in the moonlight. Floyd could see how startled he had made you, as he's never used such a voice with you; yet it had done the job and hushed you up, even for now. "I'm sorry.. I didn't mean to scare you. I just-" Floyd's lip twitched as he thought for the easiest way to blow this to you. The easiest way to let you down after all the nights you had spent together. The easiest way for him to accept everything that was happening and everything he had to do and everything that needed to be done.. but oh poor Branch and poor you, neither of you deserved this- "Floyd.. it's okay." Floyd was brought back to his thoughts, snapped back with the feeling of your hands grabbing his and your voice echoing in his ears. He opened his seized eyes and glanced up at yours; you were leaning down again, and Floyd laughed through the tears he didn't realize were spilling down. "You're doing it again.." Floyd mumbled, his voice wobbly. Your hands raced to his cheeks, cupping them and undoubtably feeling the hot, wet tears streaming down as you began to clear them. Floyd dropped his hands to his sides, they felt all to heavy right now. "No you're doing it again." Your voice was uncharacteristically steady, none if it's usual fluctuating like a dog excited to see it's owner. "You're overthinking and... and thinking of everyone else before you think about yourself! Floyd, whatever you're going to say to me, whatever you're keeping in that mind of yourself, you're going to tell me now, okay? And you're going to tell me and you're not going to worry about how I feel and you're going to be firm on your decision... because you're strong and we're friends and I won't be mad with you no matter what you tell me."

@!; That night, Floyd knew, for sure, that he was in love with you. And that made telling you all that harder as his heart yelled at his brain to stay, but his brain knew that they couldn't go back on their choice. He had to leave, even if for a week or month or year. He knew he needed space from the Village and everyone inside.. but not you and Branch. Defiantly not you. And oh the broken look in your eyes got him, but the way you tried to smile through it and agree that the space is what he needed made him fall even more in love. You were so strong, you kept to your word... Maybe Floyd could stay one more night. And he did, he cuddled up with you for his last night in the Village; you both watched the stars, all cozied up in your hair. And god, has Floyd never felt a Troll's' hair so soft. He almost couldn't pull himself out from it in the morning when you were still clinging onto him, trapping him with both your body and your hair. He felt tempted to doze back to sleep, yet knew he had to leave now (while he still had the will power) then wait before you woke up. He knew if he saw your broken look again, that look in your eyes that you could never hide, he couldn't bring himself to leave. So when you woke up in the morning, you found yourself alone; completely alone in a middle of your blanket made of your hair. Floyd had left before you had woke up and you would find yourself sulking in that position for longer than you would have thought.

@!; You didn't see Floyd again, yet you heard from him up till a few years into his exploration of the unknown; journeying to find himself in the chaotic world beyond the village. You didn't leave from the outskirts of the Pop village, as that's were you had figured out you could thrive the most without interacting with other Trolls or animals. So when Floyd's letters began to run dry, you knew it wasn't because he didn't know where to send it. No that's never been a problem before, especially with the bugs that were used to deliver the messages so they never went through Troll post. You had first thought that he had forgotten to write a letter that day and he would send you one tomorrow. He didn't. You then figured he was just somewhere where he couldn't right or get a bug to deliver the letter. But after a month of sitting and waiting anxiously, you figured that couldn't be the reason either. Floyd never stayed in a place for this long, and the letter he had sent you last made it sound like he was going to a place where he could continue to send letters. Another option came to mind, what if Floyd had just stopped sending letter because he just grew tired of you? He found someone else who captured his attention better than you did! Who could write in pretty cursive and spell words and speak correctly. Who could bake for him pies and cupcakes, who could sing and dance with him in the proper way that a Troll could. That was the first day you ever felt truly alone ever since Floyd left. Sure, you missed him dearly; Missed his smile and his caring ways and his company but never did you ever feel truly lonely. The type of lonely that made you upset and aggravated. The type of lonely that stung more than a throne in your paw, or a bee sting. The type of lonely that made you think back on all the memories you had with Floyd and made you think two different thoughts all at once: What was the point? Can I get those times back? It was torture. Two months of agonizing torture that ate you up inside with no remorse.

@!; Two months inside that horrible diamond prison, Floyd was finally free. Sure he had some white in his hair now, and felt fatigue come onto him easier when singing, but he was free; Free and with his brothers heading back to the Pop Troll village where Brozone (kind of reestablished) was going to chill for a minute before maybe going back their separate ways. "Oh my god, did we ever tell you that Floyd use to have a crush in the village when he was younger?!" JD turned around from the console of his caterpillar-like trailer, a snicker plastered right across his face. His comment instantly flipped the attention of everyone else, who had been lounging around the 'living space' of the trailer and chatting about nothing exciting. At least, nothing exciting to John Dory. "Oh! I almost forgot about that!" Bruce started as Branch looked between his brothers, noticing as Floyd let out a small groan and covered his face. "Oh not this gain..." Floyd mumbled, though not completely under his breath. "What?! JD you have to be joking right now!" Poppy jumped to a start, Viva seemed to be right beside her; jumping to her sister's side, placing her hands on Poppy's shoulders with such interest you would think JD had just brought up party plans. "Oh I'm so not joking." JD couldn't help but laugh, crossing his arms. "Floyd used to sneak off before the start of every show and see his little crush! It was so cute." And there was the teasing tone that Floyd could never forget. He hadn't hoped they didn't bring up this topic, but now he wished he had begged on his knees to anything above that his brothers had forgotten. "Oooh~ Floyd! Who was the lucky troll?" Viva questioned, mirroring her sister's excitement yet with a slight more mature feeling. "Well-" Floyd couldn't even begin before JD took over again. "We never got the chance to see them!" "Oh yeah, and we tried hard too. Stalked Floyd anytime he went out to see if we could find any sort of glimpse on who this Troll was. But we never found them." Clay informed, leaning back against the couch as an amused glint crossed his eyes; he glanced over to Floyd, who was still hiding his head. "Can we PLEASE change the topic?!" Floyd begged, but he guessed that his humiliation was much too entertaining to his brothers (mostly JD). "Nope! Never got the chance to see them. It was like- the biggest mystery in all of BroZone history." JD made this sound more ominous than it needed to be. More mysterious than a unclosed murder case that was more boggling than answerable. His serious tone didn't help it either. "Oh my god, Viva!-" Poppy turned to her sister, who held a knowing look. "To the clue board?" "To the clue board! Don't worry we'll find this troll." Poppy exploded like a star as Viva and her rushed over to the clue board that Branch had set up. They didn't waste time before they began to excitedly chat over possibly candidates and theories. Floyd felt more embarrassed than the day his brothers had started that whole mess, and he wasn't sure how that was even possible! Branch watched the two sisters for a moment before turning over to his brothers, thoroughly confused, "Wait... why did no one tell me this?!"

@!; Floyd wasn't sure how he would break this news to his brothers, but all he knew is that he needed to get to you first. He knew you just as you knew him, and he knew his disappearance would have a cause for concern... or maybe alarm or distress. Everything that Floyd didn't want you to feel when you thought about him because he should be your safe space and you had been his. "Guys! I'll be right back." Floyd shouted to his brothers when the caterpillar bus had came to a stop in front of the Pop village; And Floyd was sure he literally flew out the door with more force than necessary before he began to run down the village. "Bring them home for dinner!" Floyd could hear JD's sly remark before he was no longer in earshot of the van. Though he was sure he could hear something about "Kids growing up too fast" and some shared lighthearted laughter. Floyd couldn't care at the moment; not when all his brain buzzed about was finding you and making sure you were okay. What if you had gotten hurt during your time of no communication. What if you began to think that Floyd no longer cared for you or that something had happened to your or- Floyd's mind raced faster than he could keep up with and it felt like he was no longer racing against time yet against his own thoughts; not thinking about the fact that he had crossed the village in record time or that his brothers watched him rush straight into the woods by that cliff he had found a friend on and then love. That cliff where he had stargazed with you and shared thoughts he hadn't shared with anyone else. That cliff where you had showed him your way of life and let him closer than any other Troll had been with you. That cliff were everything happened in a secret silence that felt just right. That cliff were time seemed to stop. That cliff where he first found your eyes and saw your face last when he left. That cliff.. That cliff. That cliff!- Floyd was jolted away from the edge of the cliff, something he didn't realize he was just about to run off due to being lost in his emotion. A firm grip on the back of his pants had yanked him away, throwing him down onto the floor as now someone was between him and that cliff. "Are you crazy?! You were about to throw yourself off!-" Floyd didn't expect his baby brother's voice to shout at him and snap him out of his flurry of thoughts. He didn't expect Branch to be the one to stand there between him and the cliff. It was meant to be you. Not that he was meaning to throw himself off a cliff to find you, he would never put that type of trauma onto anyone or even think about such as thing. But you were meant to be here, meant to greet him on this cliff, meant to... where were you? Floyd didn't answer his brother as he scrambled onto his feet, numb from the running. He didn't care. He couldn't bring himself to care. He began to look around frantically, up and down the cliff, left and right. He rushed to some bushed and trees and tried looking more in depth as Branch stood there; never having seen his brother so disorientated and frazzled. "Floyd? Floyd!" Branch tried to get his brother's attention, "Floyd what are you looking for?" You. Where were you? Floyd didn't realize he didn't answer his brother; he had thought he had, but he didn't. He simply jumped off a rock and to the lower side of the cliff before he continued his search. Branch cautiously followed him, slowly lowering himself down from the rock and onto the ground. He watched Floyd look everywhere before Floyd jolted to a stop and stared in front of him. "(Y/N)!" It was a pained cry as Floyd rushed forward, pushing himself off of a tree to give himself a boost. "Floyd!" Branch yelled, following his brother in a panic. "Floyd you can't run into the forest around the village they're dangerous! Flo-" And Branch paused seeing who his brother approached. "Floyd!"

Floyd had no hesitation rushing over to an enormous beast that laid in the middle of a field, soaking in the sun. The beast had clear patches of its fur bitten off, and Branch couldn't tell whether it was self inflicted due to nerves or if it was from a fight. It perked its ears, then its head as it heard Floyd' shouting. It scanned the field and Branch felt himself rushing over to his brother. "FLOYD!" Branch's yell fell short as he saw the beast jump to its paws and rush over to his brother. Branch felt adrenaline rush through his body as he was sure he was about to watch his brother get eaten by a rapid animal. And Branch wasn't in range to catch the beast's muzzle with his hair, and Branch was sure that Floyd wouldn't attack it for whatever reason, and- wait... what? Branch kicked up dirt as he skidded to a stop, watching at the beast popped into an unusually tall Troll who grabbed Floyd in bear hug before spinning the two around. Branch watched with so much bewilderment that he questioned what JD had put in the drink he had given him. He had to be seeing things. That beast didn't just transform into a troll, right? Branch let out an airy bit of laughter as he watched the taller Troll trip on their own legs, causing the two of them to crash down and laugh loudly. Laugh like long lost lovers or crushes who had just found each other again, some sort of star-crossed lovers situation you would only find in books. Branch let out a small huff before carefully walking over to Floyd and you on the floor, laughing like maniacs. "What happened to you?!" Floyd reached up to cup your cheeks, worry rushing to his eyes as he noticed the bits of your hair that were fried and clearly chewed off. "No! No what happened to you?!" Sure, maybe you should have answered Floyd's question before asking one but you were too worried! This man disappears off the face of the planet for 2 months with no explanation then comes back like nothing ever happened?! You wouldn't stand for it, nor would you sit or lay for it either. Your hands rushed up to his, cupping over his hands which were cupping your cheeks. "I asked the question question first!" Quipped Floyd with a cheeky, beaming grin. Oh, how you've missed that grin so much. You could just squish his cheeks and kiss him at this moment. "I'll tell you what happened to me when you explain what happened to you." "Dea-" "How about you both explain what is happening?" Branch cut in, standing nearby with crossed arms and an amused smile. Floyd shot his head up, you simply turned to the side, to see that smile and oh- Floyd for a moment thought Branch was about to use this for some sort of blackmail against their brothers. "Branch!" Floyd sat up with a startle, having forgotten his brother had been here... and that he kind of saved Floyd from running off a cliff earlier. "Who are you?" Floyd heard you ask from under him and he knew he had a lot of explaining to do in that moment. But hey, if all he had to do was introduce you to his family, and hope they would accept you for your differences, then he would do that. He would do that and more to be able to be next to you, in your arms and in your reach. He would do anything to be able to keep you close. And next time he left the village, Floyd was not leaving without you.

@!; BONUS SNIPIT

"Wait, so you're telling me you got captured by some evil green-haired people who put you into a glass bottle made of diamonds and the only way you escapes is because your family made the 'perfect family harmony'?" You asked Floyd with a childlike wonder and a mature skepticism. You both were laying in Floyd's bed, inside his bod, as crickets chirped outside a sweet melody of the night. Floyd knew it sounded unbelievable but, "I'm telling you, this story is 100 percent real." Floyd couldn't help but keep in his laughter at your expressive wide eyes. Taking advantaged of your bewilderment of the situation, Floyd attacked you by snuggling closer; wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you closer, resting his head against your chest. He didn't have to look up at you to know you were cocking your eyebrow up in a questioning way, trying to think the logistics of the story over in your head. Yet you still wrapped your arms around Floyd's back, your hair stretching out to wrap the both of you in its fuzzy and cozy warmth. Floyd let out a deep sigh, you felt it against your chest; he missed these moments, and you did too. Moments that seemed to stand still, yet not in a boring way. In a way where Floyd got to soak up every second of being with you, and you got to soak up every second with him. Where you could feel like time was racing by, yet checked and it had only been a few minutes and you had more time to cuddle and just talk and be together than you had thought. Moments like these were the best feeling in the world. "I still don't believe you." You jokingly poke Floyd in the back, causing him to yelp and arch away from your pointy nail. You watched as he looked up at you with the most playfully challenging look; an eyebrow cocked upwards and his eyes glittering in the small light of the dimmed lamp. "Well it happened! I don't know what to tell you." He sassed back, rolling his eyes in a playful manner before he laid his head back against your chest. You tightened your arms around Floyd, which caused him to smile softly. No matter what happened, what had happened. Floyd was back now and neither of you were leaving each others side again; at least not now or in the near future unless it was forced.

.ᐟ this work is published and owned by @vacayisland. please do not plagiarize, copy, or steal this work; like, reblogs, and saves are appreciated :D

[flametrashiraarchive]

So, since @desi-the-blue-eyed-kakushi fed me real real good with her Muzan smut I wanted to write something in exchange, and as per usual I got carried away and the Giyuu "blurb" I promised became nearly 3k words of smut and feelings.

Stay With Me

Giyuu Tomioka x F!Reader. Childhood friends to lovers. A lot of handholding.

NSFW below the cut. MDNI

It began innocently. 

You and Giyuu were just kids, given barely enough time to catch your breath and begin processing your grief after final selection when you were sent on your first mission together. The fight was messy and hard. Other slayers died. You survived, and that was a burden you both would always carry.

By the end of the fight, the pair of you were so exhausted you could barely stand. Giyuu's sapphire eyes stared at the snow-covered ground as the demon's body crumbled to ash and was lost to the wind. Your comrade’s bodies remained along with the guilt. The weight of everything sat atop you both, crushing and relentless; the loss and responsibility far too great for hearts so young to bear. 

You were hurting but so was he. Giyuu’s heart has been hurting since the day he emerged from that accursed mountain and stood unblinking in the wisteria grove. Back then you hadn’t known how to comfort that scared, silent boy, but as he sat beside you on that first mission, you reached out and offered him simple solace. You held his hand.

“Giyuu,” you said, “stay with me. It’ll be okay.”

His hand was small and trembling back then, calluses barely formed and skin peeling where the hilt of his blade had rubbed away the top layers. The skinned peaks of his little knuckles broke your heart, even though your hands were just as small and battered.

His hand just hung loosely in yours as you curled your fingers around it. But he didn’t try to pull away. He simply let it be. 

You kept a hold of his hand all the way back home.

“Thank you,” he said solemnly as you finally parted ways at a fork in the road. Those were the first words he had ever spoken to you.

As he walked down the road toward his village, your hand flexed around empty air. You missed the warmth. 

The next mission you were sent on together ended in much the same way. And the next. And the next. 

It became a habit. He would come to your side when the fight drew to a close, his hand nudging yours, inviting you to take it. He never spoke much– which you didn't mind at all; his presence was comforting enough for you. Some said he was weird. Others that he was too haughty to speak. You quickly silenced those whispers. 

Giyuu was just quiet and sad, carrying so much on his shoulders. And though you barely knew a thing about him, he was your friend. So, after every mission you found yourselves on together, after every death, you held Giyuu’s hand.

But the years passed and he climbed the ranks faster than you did. The silent boy became a stoic man; his hand feeling larger, rougher, and heavier after every mission. Before long your fingers couldn't surround his fully, but you still tried. And despite the strength of his grip on the hilt of his blade, he remained passive in the gesture, his fingers never once curling to squeeze yours.

Then, Giyuu became a Hashira, tasked with eradicating demons far stronger than you could even attempt to fight. Your missions together grew fewer and farther between.

You missed him; missed the weight of his hand in yours, the constant comfort of his presence, the deep blue shade of his eyes. A hollow, almost painful feeling surged in your chest wherever you thought of him, but there wasn’t time to dwell. There were demons to kill, lives to save. You took the ache and pushed it down, burying it beneath your responsibility. 

And then the time came when you were charged with leading a squad of lower rank slayers on a mission. Your quiet friend was engaged elsewhere, and at that point you hadn't seen him for months. Perhaps you never would again.

You tried not to think about him.

The mission went badly. Your entire group was wiped out. All of them, even the kids you'd silently sworn to protect from harm. The grief and the guilt were crushing. If only you'd been a split-second faster, if only you'd stood an inch the the left, if only your instincts hadn't told you to duck.

You sent your crow to fetch help, and tortured yourself with what-ifs, sitting on the earth in that forsaken forest. Waiting… surrounded by shrouded little figures. Two days later a troop of kakushi arrived to clean up and recover the bodies as you stood numb, staring… lost.

You were so close to disassociating entirely that you almost missed the glimpse of Giyuu's haori in the corner of your eye. Even when you registered what you had seen, you doubted your senses. Why would he be there? There was no need for a hashira; the demons were all gone. But no… your grief-stricken mind hadn't lied. He was there. For you. 

He approached you silently, standing by your side, his knuckles brushing against the back of your hand. A moment later he curled his fingers around yours, firm, reassuring, but so gentle.

"I heard what happened and came as soon as I could,” he said. 

"I should have protected them." Your voice trembled.

"I know it hurts. You can't blame yourself." His hold on you tightened. "Not even for a moment."

"Giyuu–"

His lips parted for a moment at the sound of his name coming from your lips, but he quickly recovered his composure. "Come with me."

Down the mountain he led you, away from the horrors, his hand cradling yours the entire way. His grip never once faltered. Even when you reached a village tucked away among the foothills. He brought you to a house whose door was painted with a wisteria seal. 

He had the mistress of the house fetch a doctor to check over your injuries, which were miraculously minor, and told her that yes, you would require food and tea when you couldn't summon the words yourself. To your surprise, he knew exactly how you liked your tea brewed and what foods you liked, even though you had never talked about it. It seemed he had paid close attention to your preferences over the years. 

He stayed by your side, guiding you gently through that difficult day. When the time came for you to rest, your hands remained linked across the space between your futons.

The sounds of his soft, slumbering breaths lulled you to sleep. And for the first time you could remember, you slept well.

When morning came, you awoke to the warm, comforting security of his embrace, your face pressed to his shoulder, and his fingers still entwined with yours. Sometime during the night you had rolled across to his futon and burrowed into his arms. 

With a gentle murmur he began to wake and opened his eyes a little; a sliver of deep blue appeared half-concealed beneath his thick black eyelashes.

His breath audibly caught in his chest at the sight of you curled against him, but he didn't move. Neither did you. 

Giyuu's shallow breaths fanned across your brow as you gazed into his eyes, caught in the duality of wondering if you had unintentionally crossed a boundary and feeling as though you were exactly where you were supposed to be.

"Is this okay?" you whispered.

He nodded once, and his hand gently tightened around yours. "Please… stay with me."

Heart thrumming against your ribs, you raised your interlocked hands to your lips and pressed a slow, tender kiss to each of his scarred knuckles. “Always.”

A sharp exhale blew across your forehead. You heard him swallow before he mirrored the gesture, his lips brushing against your aching hands, as soft and tender as new leaves warmed by morning sun. And when he had kissed each knuckle, he pressed a long, slow kiss to the pulsepoint of your wrist, closing his eyes, pulling in a deep breath.

Outside the world carried on as normal; birds sang, people chattered, carts rolled down the streets, but in your shared sanctuary everything changed. You repaid the kiss to your wrist with a kiss to his shoulder. He gave you an achingly soft kiss to your temple. You pressed your lips to his cheek, and he exchanged it for a kiss to the very corner of your lips which curved into a smile to mirror his own.

You were both breathless, pink-cheeked and dizzy with trepidation as the space between you closed and he touched the very tip of your nose with his. The warmth of his breath against your lips stirred up butterflies in your stomach. The hazy, almost drunk look in his eyes made your chest tighten. 

Bringing up his palm to cup your cheek, he stroked his thumb along its curve. He closed his eyes and kissed your lips; softer and lighter than mist at first, then deeper, and deeper. You might have missed the quiet moan which escaped him if not for the vibration against your fingertips which pressed lightly to the hollow of his throat.

Kisses cascaded between you, each deeper than the last. Giyuu moaned again as you slid your tongue over his bottom lip, opening his mouth to permit your entry. With every new sensation he grew bolder, pressing his body against yours, sliding his hand down to your thigh to hitch it over his hip, rolling you onto your back with his weight and pressing you down, once more interlocking his fingers with yours.

The soft smile Giyuu had given you as you exchanged kisses faded, replaced by a silent intensity as he rocked his hips against you, shivering at the sensation. Both of you were clad in thin pajamas, and the shape of his body, as well as the heavy swell of his erection were unmistakable. He groaned as he felt the intoxicating heat of your pussy through your nightclothes, both of you desperately craving closeness in any form. 

“Please…” he whispered, the only word his mind could summon as he pressed his forehead to your shoulder, fighting with the compulsion to keep rubbing his cock against you.

Heat tingled on your cheeks as you nodded in consent. “Yes.”

You were no less desperate, wetness soaking through the fabric of your pajamas as he grinded against you again. 

You were both functioning on instinct as you pulled off your shirts, and Giyuu’s lips closed around your nipple, lapping at it with his tongue. He lifted his hips and the pair of you pulled down his pajama pants, freeing his erection. It wasn’t the first you’d seen, but it was by far the prettiest– gently curved toward his belly, crowned with a sweetly blushing tip and adorned with serpentine veins. It was also the largest you’d seen. By a long way. 

He must’ve noticed the widening of your eyes, or the trepidation written across your face at the sight of it, because he released your nipple and glanced down with a worried expression which made your heart ache.

“You’re big,” you explained, wrapping your hand around it and giving him an exploratory stroke. 

A choked cry burst from Giyuu’s lips as his cock twitched against your palm and a white rope of cum shot from the tip, spraying over your stomach. He hurried to clean it up with his pajama shirt and collapsed into you, burying his face against your neck, red with shame and arousal. “Sorry, I’m so sorry. Oh, Gods, I didn’t mean t–I’ve never felt anyone touch–”

“Giyuu…” You placed your hand on the back of his head and stroked his hair, gently and shushing him. “Stay with me, it’s okay.”

His breaths blew hot and heavy against your collarbone, each one accompanied by a ragged whimper until the sensation of your fingers threading through his hair calmed him. “I don’t think I’m done,” he said, lifting himself up and glancing down at his cock. He was still erect, a pearl of cum dripping from the tip. “I…don’t want to stop… please…”

“Are you sure?”

“Very sure. Please don’t stop.”

You smiled and spread the cum over the blushing head with your thumb, arousal flushing your chest as his face darkened and his eyes fluttered shut. As much as you craved his touch, watching Giyuu fall apart was the most beautiful and delicious thing you had ever witnessed, and a part of you wanted that again and again. 

But Giyuu’s fingers gave yours a reassuring squeeze and then let go. He drew back away from your hands to kneel between your thighs. Inch by inch, he removed your pajama bottoms, kissing every bit of skin he exposed; your lower belly, your hips, your thighs, down to your knees. He removed the garment completely and glanced at your rosy face before his gaze fell reverently to your pussy. 

His lips were maddeningly soft as he kissed your cunt slowly, his tongue delving into your entrance as his groan curled your toes. His eyes flicked up to you, gaging your reaction before he traced the shape of your pussy lips, with his tongue. After each experimental caress his eyes returned to your face, so desperate to please, to give you everything he could. 

He lapped his tongue against your clit and your hips bucked toward him. “Fuck, Giyuu– that... Gods, yes–!”

Oh, there was nothing of the shy, quiet boy in his eyes then. Seeing your reaction, knowing he was pleasuring you well, tilted his lips into a smirk before they returned to their newfound purpose of driving you to absolute ecstasy. The blush on his cheeks spread as he licked at your clit, breaking away to breathe and circle it with the tip of his nose before continuing his kisses. His hot, wet mouth against your slick skin applying such divine pressure you couldn’t help but place your hand on the back of his head and sink your fingers into his thick, black hair, silently encouraging him to go on.

His name tumbled from your lips as you fell apart, grinding against his mouth. He savored every drop of your essence. Everything was new and fascinating to him; the way your thighs tensed and trembled, the powerful throb of your muscles as you rode the waves of your orgasm. He adored it. He wanted to give you more. More pleasure, more kisses, more love. He needed it. 

 As you came back down to earth, Giyuu kissed your pussy with such affection and tenderness your heart ached. He desired you, deeply and truly.

“I want–” he began, losing his voice to his shaking breath. “I want to be closer to you… can I…?”

You sat up, still trembling, anchoring your hands on his shoulders as you kissed him. The taste of you remained on his lips, mingled with the comforting scent of him. You wanted it too. You needed to be closer, to feel him inside you. 

Pulling him back down, you stroked a hand up the back of his neck as the other pressed his cock between your folds, coating the tip of it in your slick before pushing it into you.

Despite the fact he had already cum, he was entirely unprepared for sensation of fucking you. His back arched, pressing his pelvis firmly against yours, bottoming out in you suddenly and eliciting a cry from both of you as his feet slipped against the futon for purchase.

“F—fuuuck,” he gasped, lowering his head and gritting his teeth as his arms trembled beneath him. It was all too much. 

His body pressed to yours entirely, craving intimacy and closeness. He didn’t thrust–he couldn’t– he simply ground his hips against yours, the base of his cock rubbing against your clit as he gasped and the crease in his brow grew deeper. He was hanging on by a thread, overwhelmed and desperate to hold on, to make it last, to–

“Giyuu,” you whispered, placing your hand on his, “stay with me.”

He nodded, intertwining his fingers with yours and pulling in a breath. “Always… always.”

You held each other’s hand; that simple, innocent gesture of love and comfort, now more meaningful than ever. For years you had shared grief and guilt, loss and loneliness and the sweet comfort and solace you found in each other. And now you shared this. 

Giyuu Tomioka, that quiet boy whose hand once trembled in yours, now held firm and just as securely as you did him.

[lovehypegirl]

DUTIFUL ADEPTUS

synopsis: you're the adeptus created by Morax to watch over Liyue alongside Adeptus Xiao in his absence. When he comes back in his mortal form, he makes sure to tell you to rest  wc: 0.8k warnings!: none

Being an adeptus was nothing to scoff at. Especially if that adeptus was created by Morax himself

He created you in his image; flowing dark hair with golden tips, sharp golden eyes with a dragon-like glow, brown and golden horns, and the strength to subdue a hundred monsters at a time

He had created you from cor lapis for strength, a silk flower for elegance, and a glaze lilly for wisdom

You were created in the adult image and therefore had no childhood

Your days were spent training with Morax as he taught you the ways of martial prowess and of poetry, song, and story

He always taught you to remain sharp in all aspects of life Additionally, he set you to lead the Yakshas as you were the strongest

You spent your days among the other Yakshas and often found yourself receiving gifts of intricately embroidered Hanfu in varying shades of gold from Menogias

In fact, many temples that were erected in Liyue in your honor have art that depicts you wearing a golden Hanfu

Now, when Morax had to fight in the Archon War, you were left behind watching over the people of Liyue and defending them from such harm

This caused the people of Liyue to see you as a protector and they began to erect temples in your honor and give offerings which in turn, made you stronger

When the war ended, Morax went to rule Liyue from afar, visiting once a year on the rite of Descension

Xiao is a different story, after his fellow Yakshas died from their karma, he tended to distance himself and protect Liyue from afar

Your work was hard. You constantly circled the entirety of Liyue like the sun ensuring that no monsters approached the city, the temples dedicated to the adepti were not desecrated, visiting Cloud Retainer, Mountain Shaper, and Moon Carver

You also visited Ganyu on a weekly basis to ensure that she was doing well working among the humans, watching Gaming as he preformed his Wushou dances, looking out for YaoYao whenever you saw her wandering the wilds, bringing gifts for Shenhe, conversing with Ningguang, talking with Beidou at the wharf, and so on

Basically, you never had time for yourself and you became even more busy when the Traveler came to Liyue

When the whole fiasco was settled Morax or Zhongli came to visit you in your abode

It was the first time you had seen your master face to face for a proper cup of tea and a conversation

It felt like reuniting with a father

"My dear, how have you been?" he asked over the steaming cup of tea. The golden sandbearer trees swayed in the wind as Tubby bubbled in the background  "I have been well master, Liyue prospers every day under my protection" you answer in a serious manner   He sighed slightly and placed his gloved hand on top of yours "Have you been taking some time for yourself?"  "I'm afraid I cannot, master. Even now I am restless."   He smiled slightly and squeezed your hand"It is good that you always remain diligent but you must learn to rest"  "As an adeptus I don't need to rest--"   "You do. You will exhibit signs of mental strain, my dear. And you needn't worry. Xiao will always be there to look after Liyue. You do trust him do you not?"   "I do but..."   "Then you will have no problem leaving Liyue in his hands whilst you rest for a moment" he gave you a sincere smile  "...Alright. As you say" 

Zhongli finally convinces you to take some time for yourself and mingle with the people of Liyue in a bit of a disguised form

You retract your horns and change your Hanfu to sometime a little less God-like

You found it rather calming to walk among the people that you spend your days protecting

Both you and Xiao fell into a rhythm where you protect the areas surrounding the cities and villages and he deals with the remaining land

Sometimes you can find him on the roof of Wanshu in and he always sits up a little straighter when you approach with a plate of almond tofu

"Adeptus Xiao, how have you been?" you ask as you hand him a pair of chopsticks "...I've been well" he says shortly as he accepts them "Has Zhongli visited you recently? I've seen him around the harbor often" "He has" Xiao responded as he chewed on the almond tofu, he's never much of a talker "Are you attending this years Lantern Rite? Or will you watch from afar?" "I'll be watching from afar" "Then will you...release a kite with me? I know it may sound stupid...but it makes those little humans so happy...it must be quite enjoyable" you said as you munched on a bite of the almond tofu "...sure" you could've sworn he smiled a little

When you see Xiao outside the city, you take walks with him through the Huaguang Stone Forest or through Dihua Marsh

Sometimes you accompany him on the roof of Wangshu Inn and show him how to take pictures of the sunset with the Kamera

Once a month, Zhongli, Xiao, and You have a dinner together in your abode. Placing your trust in the humans to protect their own kind for the night

© 𝙇𝙊𝙑𝙀𝙃𝙔𝙋𝙀𝙂𝙄𝙍𝙇 𝟮𝟬𝟮𝟰 | modification and translation of my works on any platforms are strictly prohibited

[chernyadventures]

It's 11-1! Time to get that climbing gear on and Write a Mountain with me! Here's a prompt to get you started if you're feeling stuck:

[milkteabinniechan]

♡Big and Small - Changbin

MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY MEMBERSHIP//M.LIST

pairing: giant! Changbin x fem! reader

summary: In a quiet valley nestled between towering mountains, ansmall village thrived. But one fateful day, the ground trembled as a gentle giant unknowingly wandered into the valley.

warnings: none! Just fluff and wholesomeness :)

In a quiet valley nestled between towering mountains, the small village of Eldershire thrived. Its cobblestone streets wound through quaint cottages, where laughter echoed like music. But one fateful day, the ground trembled as a gentle giant named Changbin unknowingly wandered into the valley.

Changbin stood nearly thirty feet tall, his heart as soft as the clouds above. He roamed the forests, gathering wildflowers and listening to the whispers of the wind. Yet, today, he lost his way, distracted by the beauty of a blooming meadow.

As he stepped into Eldershire, his massive foot struck the earth with a thud, sending villagers scrambling in panic. They had only heard tales of giants, never dreaming one would venture so close. In their fright, they brandished pitchforks and shouted threats.

But Changbin, confused and frightened by the chaos he had caused, knelt down, trying to calm the villagers. “Please, I mean no harm!” he rumbled, his voice like distant thunder. “I only wanted to see the flowers.” His voice continued to tremble and shake the small village. Children cried and some of the angrier men began to throw things. Changbin covered his face in shame. He looked around at the destruction he had caused. He felt awful. He had always admired the flowers that bloomed here. They were always the most perfect shade of pink. He knew that this spot had the ideal amount of sunshine and rain to create such a magnificent flower. He cowered behind a small building and tried to hide himself, his shoulders trembling slightly.

Among the villagers, a young woman stepped forward. Your heart was tender, much like Changbin’s, and you saw beyond the fear in his eyes. “He’s not here to hurt us,” you said, your voice steady. “Look how frightened he is.”

With your kind words, you somehow diffused the tension. Slowly, the villagers began to lower their weapons, though they remained wary. Some of the men grumbled under their breath that you were crazy. The villagers always saw you as crazy. An unwed woman at your age was something out of a horror story to tell the children at night. But you never saw yourself as the village wife. You wanted more. You wanted adventure. But when you saw Changbin’s face, you realized that maybe you just wanted someone to understand you. You approached Changbin cautiously, your petite figure a stark contrast to his towering frame. “What’s your name?” you asked, gazing up at him.

“Changbin,” he replied, a soft smile breaking through his nervousness. “I didn’t mean to invade your home.”

As days passed, you visited Changbin each afternoon, bringing him offerings of pink wildflowers and fruit. You found him sitting by a sparkling stream, his large hands gently cupping the water as he marveled at the shimmering reflections. You shared stories—you spoke of the village’s history, and Changbin revealed tales of the mountains and forests beyond.

Despite your differences, you bonded over feelings of loneliness and misunderstanding. You, often viewed as the village oddball for your love of nature and your dream to explore the world, found in Changbin a kindred spirit. He felt the weight of being seen as a monster, despite his gentle nature.

As seasons changed, your connection deepened into a quiet love. One evening, under a blanket of stars, you shared your dreams of adventure. “I want to see the world beyond these mountains,” you whispered. You told Changbin about the books you had read about the different places that existed outside of your village. Your heart swelled at the thought.

“Then let me carry you,” Changbin offered, his eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. “I can show you wonders you’ve never imagined.”

With a smile, you nodded, “Let’s explore together.”

That night, the two of you hatched a plan. When dawn broke, you climbed into Changbin’s palm, and with careful steps, he ventured beyond the valley. Changbin stepped meticulously through the forests and valleys, taking time to let the smaller creatures pass in front or around him. You watched in amazement at his carefulness and tender nature towards those smaller than him. You were determined for the other humans to see him as you did. The villagers watched in awe as the giant and the young woman traversed hills and valleys, discovering hidden glades and sparkling lakes.

At night, you would fall asleep in Changbin’s hand. In a tranquil glade bathed in soft, dappled sunlight, he would cradle you in the palm of his enormous hand. Your delicate features would be relaxed in slumber, framed by a cascade of hair that would catch the moonlight. The giant's hand, vast yet tender, supported you with an unyielding warmth, every finger curled protectively around you.

Surrounded by the lush greenery of the forest, you seemed almost ethereal, a fragile dream resting against the rugged strength of your protector. Changbin's serene expression reflected a deep affection, his eyes softly closed as he watched over you, a guardian in a world where your sizes contrast starkly yet harmoniously.

Through your adventures, the villagers’ fear turned to admiration. They saw the kindness in Changbin’s heart and how he cherished you. In time, he became a protector of Eldershire, watching over the village from afar, while you became the bridge between the two worlds. You had found your adventure. An adventure for the rest of your life. But more importantly than that, you had found someone to understand.

taglist: @simply-trash5 @sugawhaaa @trixiekaulitz @chrizzztopherbang @cassidymb121 @roanns-posts @staysinbloom @yaorzu-blog @bubblebisk @cotton-candycloudz @beautyinhypnosis @domicaru @strawberry31 @slxtmeri @newhope8 @tinyelfperson @dandelions-143 @stayyyyyyyyyyyy21 @msauthor @fun-fanfics @ell0thebell @stephanieeeyang @juskz @kimahreummm @readr1221 @kayleefriedchicken @ovulatingrn @hwnglixho @darthmaddie25 @queen-in-the-shadows @itgirlalisaa @miinhoo @greyaia @chanchansgirly @skzleeknowcore @skz-smut-reader @thatisrankharry @hearts4yawnzzn @jchotch726 @cherricola-star @minh0scat

[aweina]

ᰔ. a gift for you : sub-zero. scorpion + smoke.

there was an array of young flowers tucked between the glossy leaves, warm paper lanterns guide you through the maze of flora. there’s water colored butterflies sipping the nectar of your favorite flowers, the scent of honey and earth soothing your nerves. bi-han has gifted you a greenhouse. considering the fact that the lin kuei palace contains lots of open land to train on — it was fitting to add something less grueling and tense. he directly thought about you, encased with delicate, floral pieces as you beam at the variations of flowers and other greenery you always mentioned during your afternoon walks. it started off with short nods, listening intently to your frantic words with amusement. then he’d silently gift you engraved pots filled with young flowers and all the needed tools to build a lively collection of plants. that didn’t seem enough. the grandmaster always had urges for something more, something greater, that he also applied it to you or rather, your fondness over flowers. since the freezing climate wasn’t so fitting for sun enriched plants, constructing a greenhouse would be fitting and also, fulfilling for him to do in secret. it was hard work to pull it off. there were times you nearly spotted it in the middle of its development and your suspicion towards bi-han’s sudden interest in flora made him sweat icicles, but it was all worth seeing your radiant smile in the end. for now on, he’ll find you within the maze of bustling blossoms — individually nurturing them with love and care and amusingly talking to the clusters of flora like little children. at that the thought of your happiness, he smiled under his mask.

the parchment felt light and airy in your grasp, but much more of them were tied with a silk string — each individually sealed with set red wax, blotches of little lighthearted notes and tea stains smudged along the handcrafted envelopes. they smelt faintly of sweet herbs and dried ink. kuai liang has gifted you a collection of love letters. it all started when he met you, his usual writing was put off for his lin kuei duties, leaving the pens to dry off and the stacks of parchment to pile dust bunnies. then your gentle presence gave him a boost to write small notes in the middle of the night. the adorning look you would give him would make him write paragraphs with such ease, leaving a shade of blotched blue all over his palm. then your contagious laughter and assuring gaze made a mountain of neatly crafted love letters in the corner of his usual tidy room. along the ink read his first impressions of you, the beautiful details that you missed about yourself, lengths of innocent admiration, and millions of confessions about how much he loves you. each letter had little surprises tucked between the pages. a frail cherry blossom petal when you both first trained together. colored origami animals that you spotted during missions. he kept them all as a sign of his love — dedication towards you. watching you carefully unfold himself with gentle hands, he safely locks the image of your big grin and droplets of joyful tears in his memory for another love letter.

the glimmering of delicate light reflected over the bare walls, adding a pretty iridescence on the wallpaper. clashes of soft yellow, with pastel greens and pinks made your skin twinkle under the sun. the silhouette of a dainty butterfly floated through the air. tomas has gifted you a sun catcher. the warm village of fengjian had pockets of small businesses. crowded bookstores, fragile porcelain shops, and fresh produce stands. he didn’t have any personal feelings towards these stores, rather he wanted something more personal — made with his own hands and heart. that’s when he finds a workshop filled with dozens of personal projects, unfinished ceramics and even glass bracelets. then he eyes a mesmerizing piece, a sun catcher. it reminded him how you seem to unintentionally fill every room you’re in with light, how you always impressively shined through the bitter ash of his magic — winning every spar between the two of you. the process of making a sun catcher was meticulous, melting down metal small rods together, inserting colored glass with clear precision but with very nervous hands. tomas finishes off the butterfly piece with a string of patterned beads that he collected when you both visited different villages. a crescent moon dangling at the end to represent him — your opposite, your midnight protector. there’s instant relief when you beamed ever so brightly at your handcrafted gift. he helped you hang it by your window, the glimmer of reflection blinding the both of you for a second. then he sits with you, explaining the meaning of each individual bead and glass — while your smile brightens the whole room.

add. note : the alt title would’ve been ‘if he wanted to he would’, but i’ll refrain from men slander for now (`ー´) …

[whywontyoucomeout]

The Warrior at Rest

Kaira stood at the window of her modest stone cottage, one hand resting on the swell of her enormous belly as she gazed out at the rolling hills beyond. At nearly nine months pregnant, her once lean warrior's physique had transformed dramatically. Her belly protruded like a great round shield, stretching the fabric of her tunic taut.

Despite her current state, Kaira's piercing green eyes remained as sharp as ever, scanning the horizon with the keen awareness of a seasoned fighter. Her long red hair was pulled back in a practical braid, revealing a thin white scar that ran from her left temple to her jaw - a reminder of battles past.

Kaira sighed, feeling the restlessness that had plagued her these past months. She was unaccustomed to this sedentary life, this waiting. Her hands, calloused from years of wielding sword and spear, itched for the familiar weight of a weapon.

As she watched the distant hills, her mind drifted back to her years as the most feared warrior in the Five Kingdoms. They had called her "The Crimson Whirlwind" for the way she moved on the battlefield - a blur of flashing steel and flowing red hair. Kaira had led armies to victory against impossible odds, her tactical genius as renowned as her combat prowess.

She remembered the Battle of Blackmire Pass, where she had single-handedly held the narrow mountain path against a horde of invaders, buying time for reinforcements to arrive. For three days and nights she had fought, her twin swords singing as they cleaved through enemy after enemy. When the dust settled, over two hundred foes lay dead at her feet.

Kaira's hand absently moved to her swollen belly as the baby within gave a strong kick. She smiled, imagining the child would be as fierce a fighter as its parents. Her husband Torin was nearly her equal in combat skill, though he preferred the great axe to her favored swords.

A pang of worry shot through her as she thought of Torin, out there now leading their forces against the Shadowmere invasion. This was the first campaign she had not fought by his side in over a decade. Part of her ached to be there with him, to feel the thrill of battle once more.

But Kaira knew her current battle was here - bringing new life into the world. She rubbed her aching back, feeling the weight of her enormous belly. The village midwife had remarked that she had never seen such a large pregnancy, joking that Kaira must be carrying twins or even triplets. Kaira wasn't so sure - she felt in her bones that it was one child, but a strong one.

As the sun began to set, painting the hills in shades of gold and crimson, Kaira's thoughts turned to the uncertain future. Would she be able to return to the battlefield once the child was born? Or would motherhood change her in ways she couldn't yet fathom?

One thing was certain - warrior or mother, Kaira would face whatever challenges lay ahead with the same courage and determination that had made her a legend. She took a deep breath, squaring her shoulders as she had done countless times before charging into battle. Whatever came next, she would be ready.

—————————-

As twilight descended, a frantic pounding at the door shattered Kaira's contemplative silence. Her heart clenched as she opened it to find a breathless messenger, his face etched with grim news.

"My lady," he gasped, "the battle goes ill. Lord Torin... he's been gravely wounded. The enemy advances."

Kaira's world tilted on its axis. Without a word, she strode to the back of the cottage where her armor hung. Custom-made to accommodate her pregnancy, the breastplate was a masterwork of overlapping plates and supple leather. Yet as she donned it, Kaira found even this ingenious design strained against her enormous belly.

Ignoring the discomfort, she cinched the straps as tight as she dared. The pressure was intense, but bearable. Kaira gritted her teeth, her warrior's discipline overriding the protests of her body. She seized her twin swords, their familiar weight a grim comfort.

"Prepare my horse," she commanded the stunned messenger.

The ride to the battlefield was a blur of pain and determination. Each gallop sent shockwaves through Kaira's distended abdomen, the baby within kicking furiously. But Kaira's focus was singular: reach Torin, turn the tide of battle.

As she crested the final hill, the scene before her stole the breath from her lungs. The field was a chaos of clashing steel and fallen bodies. And there, at the center of it all, lay a familiar figure in blood-stained armor.

"No!" The cry tore from Kaira's throat as she spurred her mount forward. But even as she fought her way through the melee, she knew she was too late. Torin's eyes, once so full of life and love, stared sightlessly at the darkening sky.

Something snapped within Kaira. The grief, the rage, the primal protective instinct of impending motherhood - it all coalesced into a berserker fury unlike anything she had ever experienced. She became the Crimson Whirlwind once more, but this time there was no grace, no artistry to her movements. Only raw, devastating power.

Her swords flashed like lightning, cutting bloody swathes through the enemy ranks. Soldiers fell before her like wheat before the scythe. Those who saw her coming - this impossibly pregnant warrior dealing death with inhuman speed and strength - fled in terror.

Hours passed in a red haze. Kaira fought until her arms burned and her lungs heaved. She fought until the ground grew slick with blood and the air thick with the stench of death. She fought until, at last, only one enemy remained standing.

The Shadowmere commander stood before her, his black armor splattered with gore. Even through his helm, Kaira could sense his disbelief at the carnage she had wrought.

"Demon," he hissed, raising his mace. "What manner of creature are you?"

Kaira said nothing. Words were beyond her now. There was only the pounding of her heart, the weight of her unborn child, and the burning need for vengeance. She raised her swords, their edges notched and dripping, and prepared for one final battle.

The commander charged with a roar, his mace whistling through the air. Kaira met his assault head-on, her twin blades a whirlwind of steel. They clashed in a furious exchange, neither giving ground.

But Kaira's rage was a bottomless well, fueling her beyond the limits of normal endurance. With a cry that seemed to shake the very heavens, she battered through the commander's guard. Her left sword knocked his mace aside; her right plunged deep into his chest.

————-

As her foe crumpled to his knees, Kaira stood over him, her sword point resting at his throat. The Shadowmere commander's eyes widened with fear as he stared up at her, his helm having been knocked away in their fierce duel.

"You took everything from me," Kaira growled, her voice raw with emotion. "My husband, my child's father, the future we were meant to share."

The commander swallowed hard, feeling the cold steel against his skin. "Please," he begged, his earlier bravado evaporating in the face of death. "Mercy! I have a family too—"

"As did every soldier you sent to their deaths," Kaira cut him off, her green eyes blazing with contempt. "As did my husband."

She drew back her sword, preparing for the final blow. But just as she tensed to strike, a searing pain ripped through her abdomen. Kaira gasped, nearly dropping her weapon as she realized what was happening. The baby was coming.

The commander, seeing her momentary weakness, lunged forward with desperate speed. His hand grasped for the dagger at his belt, a last attempt to turn the tables.

But even in the grips of labor, Kaira's warrior instincts didn't falter. With a cry of pain and rage, she brought her sword down in a swift, decisive arc. The blade met flesh and bone, and the commander's reaching hand fell limp to the blood-soaked earth, followed quickly by his lifeless body.

Kaira staggered back, her breath coming in ragged gasps. She dropped to her knees, one hand clutching her belly as another contraction seized her. The battle was won, her vengeance complete, but a new struggle was just beginning.

As she knelt there on the battlefield, surrounded by the aftermath of carnage, Kaira felt a fierce kick from within her womb. Even now, her child fought alongside her. She gritted her teeth, forcing herself to stand despite the pain.

"We'll face this world together, little one," she whispered, beginning the arduous journey back to her village. "Your father's spirit lives on in us both."

With each agonizing step, Kaira left behind the Crimson Whirlwind and moved toward her new role as the Warrior Mother. The legend of her final battle would be told for generations, but the true test of her strength was yet to come.

———————

Kaira stumbled through the twilight, one hand on her sword hilt, the other supporting her enormous belly. Each contraction brought her to her knees, the pain far surpassing any battlefield wound she'd ever endured. As darkness fell, she spotted a cave in a nearby hillside and made for it with grim determination.

Once inside, Kaira began the laborious process of removing her armor. As the custom breastplate came free, her belly seemed to expand even further, no longer constrained. She marveled at its size, her skin stretched taut over the massive dome.

"By the gods," she muttered, "no wonder the midwife thought there might be twins."

Another contraction hit, and Kaira braced herself against the cave wall. She knew the basics of childbirth from the village women, but experiencing it was another matter entirely. Gritting her teeth, she lowered herself to the ground and spread her legs as wide as she could manage.

Hours passed in a haze of pain and effort. Kaira pushed with all her might, feeling the baby's head begin to emerge, only to have it slip back when she paused to catch her breath. It was maddening – like siege warfare, gaining ground only to lose it again.

"Come on, little warrior," she growled, her voice echoing in the cave. "Fight your way out, as your father and I would do."

Kaira lost track of time, her world narrowing to the rhythm of contractions and the burning sensation between her legs. She'd faced down armies without flinching, but this battle tested her limits like no other.

Just when she felt she could endure no more, a final, explosive contraction seized her. Kaira bore down with every ounce of strength left in her body, unleashing a primal scream that seemed to shake the very walls of the cave.

And then, suddenly, it was over. The cave filled with a new sound – the lusty wail of a newborn taking its first breath.

Exhausted beyond measure, Kaira reached down and pulled the squirming, slippery infant to her chest. As she gazed upon her child's face, she felt a love fiercer than any she'd known before.

"Welcome to the world, my little fighter," she whispered, tears mixing with sweat on her cheeks. "Your father would be so proud."

As the newborn's cries softened to contented gurgles, Kaira allowed herself a moment of peace. The battle was won, a new life brought forth against impossible odds. Whatever challenges lay ahead, she would face them with the same courage and determination that had seen her through this day.

Outside the cave, the first light of dawn began to break over the horizon. For Kaira and her child, it was the dawning of a new era – one that promised both great hardship and profound love.

——————————

As Kaira cradled her newborn, a fresh wave of pain gripped her. Her eyes widened in shock and disbelief.

"By the gods," she gasped, "there's another!"

The realization hit her: the midwife's jest about twins had been prophetic. Kaira's relief at delivering her first child quickly gave way to apprehension. She was already exhausted, her strength nearly spent.

With trembling arms, she gently placed her firstborn on a bed of soft leaves before repositioning herself. Instinct told her to get on her hands and knees. She began to rock back and forth, trying to ease the second baby into position.

This labor seemed even more arduous than the first. Kaira pushed with all her might, but progress was agonizingly slow. The baby seemed stuck, refusing to budge despite her efforts.

In all her years as a warrior, through countless battles and wars, Kaira had never felt as vulnerable as she did now. She, who had faced down armies and monsters, found herself at the mercy of her own body and this stubborn child within.

"Please," she whispered, her voice hoarse and desperate. It was strange to hear herself beg, but pride had no place in this primal struggle. "Please, little one, come out. Fight your way through, as your father would."

Hours passed, marked only by Kaira's labored breathing and occasional cries of pain. She pushed until she thought she could push no more, then somehow found the strength to continue.

Just when she was on the verge of despair, she felt a shift. With a final, monumental effort, Kaira bore down. A scream tore from her throat, echoing through the cave and startling her firstborn into wailing.

And then, at last, it was over. The second twin slipped into the world, adding its cries to its sibling's.

Kaira collapsed onto her side, utterly spent. With shaking hands, she gathered both infants to her chest, marveling at their tiny, perfect forms.

"Welcome, my little warriors," she murmured, her voice thick with emotion. "You've proven yourselves fighters already."

As she lay there, her newborns nestled against her, Kaira felt a complex mix of emotions. Grief for Torin, who would never know his children. Pride in her own strength and that of her babies. And a fierce, protective love that overshadowed everything else.

The sun had fully risen now, its light reaching into the cave. Kaira knew the challenges ahead would be enormous – raising twins alone, rebuilding her life after the war. But as she looked at her children, she felt a renewed sense of purpose.

"We three are a family now," she told them softly. "And together, we can face anything."

[gaybatmanenthusiast]

EMBERS OF UNDERSTANDING (oneshot)

(THORIN OAKENSHIELD X GN! READER)

⋆★ word count : 922

⋆★ warnings : n/a

⋆★ summary : As Thorin’s company nears Erebor, the reader, who has joined them despite Thorin’s protests, shares elven traditions and tales by the fire each night. Though Thorin is initially dismissive, he finds himself drawn to the reader’s storytelling.

⋆★ extra : pleaseee hobbit fandom come my wayyy!!

As Thorin’s company neared Erebor, tensions between the dwarves and their reluctant elven companion—yourself—remained high. It was Thorin who cast the most withering glares, his distrust evident in the terse silences he insisted upon each night. Yet, despite his grumbles, he had allowed you to join the company, likely out of pragmatism rather than preference. It was a compromise that wore heavily on him, especially when you would start speaking, low and calm, weaving tales and traditions from your own people that danced and shimmered like the stars themselves.

The dwarves grew accustomed to it in their own way, some even gathering close to listen, eager for the warmth of your voice, though they’d never admit it outright. Even Kili and Fili, the youngest among them, would lean closer, eyes wide with curiosity as you recounted stories of ancient forests, rivers with whispered songs, and mountains that watched over the world with unseeing, timeless eyes.

At first, Thorin remained apart, ever the silent sentinel with his back turned, his mind far from your voice. But, despite himself, he began to listen—first to the lilting cadence of your speech, then to the strange beauty in the tales you shared. Your stories were unlike those he’d heard of elves; they were neither ethereal nor grandiose, but grounded in a reverence for the land, for each small creature and growing thing that found a place in your world.

One night, as a gentle silence settled around the fire, you shared a story of a tree that stood at the edge of an elven village, reaching towards the heavens with its ancient branches. You spoke of the times you’d rested beneath its shade, feeling its quiet strength, and of the countless others who had come and gone, all leaving their mark upon its bark.

Thorin found himself drawn closer without realising, compelled by something in your voice that felt…familiar. His eyes softened slightly, the firelight catching a hint of wonder in his gaze. After you finished the tale, a rare moment of quiet hung in the air, heavy with unspoken thoughts.

“You speak…strangely,” he murmured, his tone rough yet not unkind. “Of trees and rivers as if they are kin.”

You looked at him, your expression calm, yet touched by a gentle curiosity. “Aren’t they? Each holds life, and each, in its own way, shapes the land around it. Just as you, Thorin Oakenshield, have shaped your people.”

For once, he had no retort, the depth of your words leaving him pensive. As days turned to nights and the fireside tales continued, he found himself gravitating towards you, eager to hear more, even if he struggled to admit it. He was captivated by the way you spoke, as if each word was a thread in a tapestry that bound you to the world in ways he hadn’t considered.

Slowly, his distrust waned, replaced by something warmer and altogether unexpected. He began to look forward to those evenings, to the moments when you would meet his gaze across the fire, your eyes holding a quiet challenge and an invitation. The rest of the company noticed too, exchanging knowing glances as their king’s icy walls thawed, brick by stubborn brick.

One evening, as the fire burned low, you found yourself beside Thorin, a shared silence filling the space between you. He turned to you, his voice a low rumble softened by a rare vulnerability.

“Tell me…about your people,” he said. “Not the tales I’ve heard, not the ones filled with ancient wars and grievances. I wish to know…what you hold dear.”

You hesitated, caught off guard, but as you met his gaze, you sensed the shift within him, and you offered him a small smile, one that carried the weight of tentative trust.

As you spoke of home, of memories woven with light and laughter, Thorin listened intently, his heart softened by a growing admiration that was quickly outstripping his long-held prejudices. For the first time, he allowed himself to see you as an individual rather than an emblem of a bygone grudge. And, in turn, you began to see beneath his stoic exterior, glimpsing the depths of his loyalty and fierce pride.

The path to Erebor was fraught with danger and doubt, and both of you knew the challenges that lay ahead. But in that moment, beneath the vast, unfeeling sky, there was only the quiet, unspoken promise of something rare—something worth cherishing in a world so often marred by loss.

Beneath the vast, starlit sky, the world around you faded, leaving only the warmth of Thorin by your side. The fire cast a soft glow on his face, accentuating the deep, thoughtful lines that years of hardship had carved. His hand brushed yours, tentative at first, as if testing the weight of something fragile yet undeniable. You glanced at him, your heart quickening as his fingers lingered, entwining with yours in a gesture both tender and possessive.

He held your gaze, his eyes softened by something deeper than admiration—a yearning that had grown quietly between the words you’d shared, hidden in each stolen glance across the fire. You felt the pull of it, strong as the roots of an ancient tree, anchoring you in a way that defied reason and loyalty alike.

As his thumb traced gentle circles against your hand, Thorin leaned closer, his voice a low murmur, filled with reverence. “If there is beauty to be found in this world,” he said, his breath warm against your cheek, “then it is here, with you.”

[futfemfantasies]

Yellow - Mackenzie Arnold x reader

You woke up to a smidge of light peering through your window and a tight arm wrapped around your waist. You look at the time on your watch and it’s a little past 7:30 so you know that Mackenzie isn’t going to wake up for at least another hour. You turn over slightly and give her a soft kiss on the cheek, which causes the slightly older than you to scrunch her nose and turn over. This loosens her arm around you a little so it’s easy for you to escape. Once out of the tight hold, you decide you are going to go on a walk and to grab some coffee and bagels on the way home. After slipping on your last shoe and leaving a note on your pillow, you started your mini adventure.

You’d just moved to England from the US after scoring a deal with Arsenal so you are still getting used to the new country. Thankfully, since you and Mackenzie’s clubs aren’t that far from each other, you still see each other regularly. As you walk down the street, you see the familiar but old style shopping village you’ve grown to love. Turns out the country markets are on today and that makes you happy to explore peoples little handmade trinkets and fresh produce.

You first stop at a small flower stall and greet the old couple sitting in their slightly beaten up camping chairs, sharing a warm cup of coffee. All the different colours and aromas makes your heart burst with happiness, especially when you see this one shade of purple. It reminds you of the first time you saw Mackenzie in your national teams goalkeeper jersey. Having your favourite girl kitted out in your favourite colour did something to you. You didn’t realise how long you were staring at the flowers until you saw the old lady stand in front of you.

“You can just buy one if you want. I know a whole bunch is a bit much sometimes” the old lady offers.

You decide to buy three stems of the flower and she wraps it up nice and cute for you. You thank her and decide to give here a little bit extra for the trouble.

You walk down the next couple of stalls and see one of the new couples at Arsenal, Caitlin Foord and Katie McCabe. You talk to them for a while until you hear your phone ringing and see it’s Mackenzie. You bid them goodbye and that you’ll see them tomorrow for games night at Viv and Beth’s house. You quickly answer your phone and see Mackenzie FaceTiming you.

“Hey bubs, did you just wake up?” You ask as you look at a handmade jewellery stall.

“I did and you weren’t here. Where are you?” Mackenzie asks, mumbling into the comfy and fluffy blanket.

“I went down the street to get us some coffee and it turns out the markets are on. So I’m just having a look around, trying to familiarise myself with the area”

“Can you hurry? I’m missing out on my cuddles”

“I’ll be as quick as I can bubs. I love you”

“I love you more love. See you soon”

You look around the jewellery and see a pair of sunflower stud earrings. You pick them up and smile at the memory behind sunflowers.

On your four month anniversary date, Mackenzie took you to a sunflower farm in you hometown of Brisbane and you were in heaven. They had a clear patch where you could have a picnic and you both packed each others favourite foods and drinks. The patch was on top of a hill, over looking the beautiful mountains and the city below. You both had finished eating and you moved to sit in between her legs, watching as the sun slowing hide behind the high rise buildings, leaving behind a glow of oranges and pinks. It honestly made Mackenzie look like a goddess in your opinion. After a moment of comfortable silence, she told you those three words you have also had on the tip of your tongue also. You both sealed it with a kiss (or make out session) under the setting sun and it was truly a day you’ll never forget.

You give the earrings, along with the matching necklace, to the young girl to pay and again, told her to keep the change. She thanks you a lot before you head off down to the other stalls. You buy some more ironically coloured flowers, some matched Mackenzie’s eyes and one colour (in your brain), matching the way she smiles ever so lovingly at you.

You reach your final stall and see the most gorgeous yellow daffodils you’ve seen. Immediately buying them, you check the time and Mackenzie is texting you asking if you’ve ran away with the circus and that her ‘cuddle-o-meter’ is nearly running out so she’s going to die. You roll your eyes at the dramatics but decide to get the things you had come out for, coffee and bagels. You make a u-turn to your favourite coffee shop and order the usual for you both with cream cheese bagels.

You race home as fast as you can with two coffees and a bag full of flowers. Mackenzie hears the front door unlock and immediately goes to help you. Her eyes wide at the amount of flowers in your bag.

“What’s all the flowers for baby?” Mackenzie questions.

“I’ll explain later but please take the coffee”

You both sit on the couch and eat your bagels while you tell Mackenzie about all the stalls at the markets. Mackenzie’s heart swells up at how excited you get over the little things and it makes her smile even more (if that was possible).

“Okay presents time!” You say practically jumping out of your seat.

You explain all meanings behind the purple flowers to the sunflower earrings and necklace set and how Mackenzie hates earrings so you’ll wear them and she can have the necklace. Not once did Mackenzie get distracted or even think about not listening to you rave on about everything you bought her and the meanings behind them.

You finally got to the yellow daffodils. You turn and take Mackenzie’s hands in yours and she immediately tenses a little. You rub your thumb on her hand and she relaxes slightly.

“Mum used to tell me that yellow is the happiest colour. She used to say ‘yellow is something, or someone, that makes you so head over heels happy that you don’t want it to end’. Ever since we’ve started dating, I knew you were it for me. You’re my soulmate, my yellow. You’re the safe place I call home”

It happens all at once. The bottom lip wobbles. The single tear falls down Mackenzie’s cheek. The bone crunching hug that sends you flying back, hitting the soft cushions of the couch. You feel your shirt getting wet and you pull Mackenzie’s head up to see her with tears streaming down her face.

“Oh baby, I didn’t mean to make you cry” you mumble, wiping tears from her cheek.

“Marry me?”

You thought you heard wrong or didn’t hear her at all. When you don’t say anything, Mackenzie gets up from your lap embarrassed then you realise what she said. She turns to walk away when you grab her wrist, making Mackenzie turn her head to you.

“Yes”

“Yes?”

“Yes I’ll marry you baby!”

Mackenzie falls straight back on top of you and kisses you passionately. You pull her close when she pulls back quickly.

“The ring! You need your ring!” She sprints into the bedroom and before you could get up, she sprints right back out.

Mackenzie kneels on the floor in front of you before lifting your left hand and sliding the ring on. You tell her to stay there and you take a quick photo. She cuddles back into your arms and you cannot stop looking at the new sparkling piece of jewellery on your left hand.

“It’s gorgeous”

“Just like it’s owner”

“You cheese ball”

London being London, it starts to rain quite heavily so you both decide to cuddle on the couch and watch movies all day.

Who knew going for an early morning stroll on a day off would end up with you being engaged to the love of your life.

…………………………………………………………………………………………

A few weeks later…

liked by mackenziearnold, leahwilliamson, bethmead, matildas, stephcatley and 187,394 others

itsyn25: ‘yellow is something, or someone, that makes you so head over heels happy that you don’t want it to end’ 💍

view all 22,845 comments…

mackenziearnold: home ❤️🥺

// itsyn25: forever and always bubs ♾️

leahwilliamson: yay!! So happy for you both 😭🥹

// itsyn25: i love youuuu 🥹

caitlinfoord: I suppose you can join the club now…

// omg thank you! I totally haven’t been waiting 5 years or anything… 🥲😁

stephcatley: maid of honour dibs! 🙋‍♀️🤩

// itsyn25: I suppose 🙄