#N is a horned lizard

[darkxwolf17]

Most important thing I’ve gleaned from episode 5 is what fursonas each member of the trio would be

[temiizpalace]

Can i have Malleus and Leona with prompt 3?

☆┊PUT YOUR HEAD ON MY SHOULDER! NOT HIS! (🐉 vs. 🦁)

SUMMARY: THEY BOTH OFFER HIS SHOULDER TO REST ON. WHO KNEW IT BECAME A FULL BLOWN WAR!

CHARACTERS: malleus draconia vs. leona kingscholar

EVENT MASTERLIST

WARNINGS: no determined end couple, jealousy, crowley sucks at being a guardian 👎👎👎

NOTES: leona suffering chronicles part 3!!! /j tysm for your request!

reader is g/n, reader is yuu

˚∘☆∘˚

helping crowley had many benefits.

weekly payments, a home and shelter, and a beloved father figure. that’s what he claims anyway. however, from yours and grim’s experience, there were also many drawbacks; he forgets to pay you, he forgets about you, you’re his favorite errand runner, and you tend to pull all-nighters in order to finish up his chores.

in short, helping crowley was just asking for a death wish. finally finding some free time in your day to rest, you sat onto a nearby bench hidden by the trees, basking you in some shade.

“urgh.. if i have to run down anymore papers to crewel i think ima be sick.” grim groans, stretching himself into your lap before curling up to nap. “tell me about it.. im sick of being sam’s supplier.” you sigh, leaning your head onto the back of the bench. “child of man? what are you doing outside of class?” a certain prince calls out, suddenly sitting by your side.

“tsunotaro? i could ask you the same question.” you laugh, suddenly snapping yourself awake. “wasn’t there a housewarden meeting today?” you ask, seeing his face twist into a pout. “if that is the case then they have failed to invite me.” he sighs, crossing his arms with a frown.

“seriously? again?” you scoff, shaking your head. “i’ll have a talk with crowley about this when i see him later.” you smile at him, patting his back. “i appreciate it. you’re too kind, really.” malleus looks into your eyes, not being able to resist smiling back at you. as you both continue to converse like normal, you have yawned far too many times for the poor boys liking.

“are you sleeping alright? i believe you yawned at least 10 times during our conversation. are my topics too boring for your liking?” he frets, sudden worry overriding his emotions. were you losing interest in him? are you going to leave him?! oh no. no no no no no no no no—

“why would you think that?! im always interested in what you have to say. crowley has been working me ragged lately, that’s all.” you reassure malleus, giving him a thumbs up as if what you said wasn’t concerning in the least. “why that lousy..” he mutters, eyes narrowing at the facts. how dare that stupid insolent prick drive his poor beloved prefect to the brink of exhaustion. it’s inexcusable.

“im on a break for once, so me and grim were just resting here.” you smile, pointing to your sleepy catlike companion. speaking of catlike companions, leona watched from a faraway tree your little chat with malleus. yuck. he’s already annoyed when you talk to other beastmen, but talking to that horned bastard just left a bad taste in his mouth.

“well, you’re more than welcome to rest on—”

“hey.” leona huffs, plopping himself beside you. malleus’ eye twitched at the sight. are you shitting me. what is he doing here? isn’t there a housewarden meeting for him to attend to? go away. “leona?! shouldn’t you be at the housewarden meeting?” you exclaim, practically taking the words right out of malleus’ mouth.

“mm, ditched. no way am i attendin something stupid like that first thing in the morning.” he shrugs, crossing his legs and making himself comfortable. “looks like someone wasn’t invited.” leona grins, pointing at the obviously annoyed prince sitting beside you. “if you had just come to insult me, then you can take your leave and save it for later, kingscholar.” malleus replies with a polite yet harsh tone.

“not everythin’s about you, lizard. can’t i care for my own underclassmen?” leona frowns, wrapping his arm around your shoulder. “..pardon?” malleus furrowed his brow, watching as the lion prince got far too touchy for his taste. “they got eye bags, probably haven’t been sleeping well. since im such a kindhearted senior, i don’t mind if they rest a lil.” he smirks, leaning you onto his shoulder.

“really?!” you shout in disbelief, nearly waking poor grim up. leona was one to never admit to anything, always keeping you guessing. seeing him so.. direct threw you and malleus for a loop. “would you rather rest on tree bark?” he raised a brow, leaning closer to your face. “nope! thanks i guess, leona.” you hastily accept, deciding not to question it.

“thanks for talking to me malleus, it kept me from falling asleep.” you smile, now shutting your eyes. in a matter of seconds, you had already fallen asleep, relieved from all the previous exhaustion. the two princes glared at one another, tensions rising to new heights. “your services are no longer needed, you can go to the housewarden meeting. consider it an invite.” leona chuckles, waving malleus off towards the hallway, earning a genuine look of anger from the usually calm and collected fae.

“i appreciate the sentiment, but i believe the child of man and i were having a heartfelt conversation before you showed up. as king of briar valley, consider yourself excused.” malleus retorts, moving you over onto his shoulder. leona scowls in return to his obvious insult, very gently moving your head back to him. “if i remember right, they chose to lean onto me. not nice taking what’s not yours.”

“don’t act like you didn’t just steal their attention.” malleus scoffs, tugging you back towards him. “why you horned bastard.” leona growls, bearing his fangs at the now smug prince. and so, the game of tug of war began. constant pulling back and forth, back and forth, it was a miracle you hadn’t waken up yet. poor prefect..

HOWEVER, a certain someone else felt the shaking, and just couldn’t stand it. grims eyes flutter open as he looks to the two housewardens tugging you left and right with a frown. “HEY,” grim shouts, startling the two as they looked down. “do ya mind?! some of us need to get a lil shut eye.” he hisses, trying to look at the very least intimidating. “shut it, pipsqueak.” leona grunts, glaring at grim.

“grim, i believe it is best if you don’t intervene.” malleus stated sternly, moving him off of your lap. “HOW DARE YOU! GRIM THE GREAT LISTENS TO NOBODY! [MC]! WAKE UP, WE’RE SLEEPING SOMEWHERE AWAY FROM THESE FREAKS.” grim shrieks, almost rupturing both of their eardrums.

you stir awake at grim’s shrill voice, rubbing your eyes with a grumble before looking downwards. “huh..? oh, tsunotaro? leona? you’re still here?” you mumble, turning your your sides to see the two boys covering their ears. “let’s get outta here and sleep somewhere else. crowley might find us and give us somethin else to do.” grim frowns, tugging your hand.

“alright, alright, jeez. calm down, will ya?” you sigh, reluctantly getting up and following him inside. “i’ll see you both later! don’t go arguing more, ya hear?” you show them a smile before grim drags you out of sight, leaving both boys dumbfounded.

“it’s your fault they left. tch, dumb lizard.” leona grunts, glaring daggers into malleus. “my fault? how about saying that again after i shave off that mane of yours?” he jeers, feeling a vein about to burst. “haah? what was that?!”

they did indeed, argue again.

A/N: three leona requests in a row is crazy 😭😭 he can’t catch a break (imagine leona bald tho)

date published: 8/25/24

© temiizpalace — do not copy, steal, or put my work into ai. thank you!

[ammoniteblue]

Not a Hero, Just an Author (p.1)

kenji sato x reader

Her latest novel a flop, Y/N is starting to worry she wasn’t meant to be an author. She’s 24, lives alone and most of her college friends are either married or in more traditional jobs. she feels like she’s being left behind. That is until a charming baseball player finds his way into her life and shows Y/N that it takes more than talent to be a star.

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

“-And we’re expecting light showers this afternoon with heights of 17 degrees celsius. So make sure to pack an umbrella. In other news, the Giants are about to welcome legendary Japanese baseb-“

The morning radio rambled quietly in your car, some light background music on your morning commute to work. Today you’d left too late, a delay caused by your alarm clock not going off on time, and now you were paying for it. The traffic jam was long. At this rate you were going to be late for work.

You sighed, drumming your fingers against the steering wheel impatiently. If you were even five minutes late your editor was going to kill you. this was a super important meeting, one Sana had been fighting for for months. It could make or break your career, taking you from a small time author to the real thing. An international bestseller. A book adapted into a screenplay. A movie. A show. World wide recognition. A dream come true.

You could feel that dream slipping away as the traffic in front of you crawled forwards.

There was a ding. Your phone. No doubt Sana asking about where the fuck you were. A cursory glance at your watch informed you had twenty minutes to get down town.

fuck.

Was your heart racing from the three cups of coffee you chugged this morning or the stress ?

Another ding. And then another. Oh my god.

It was wrong, perhaps even evil. something you’d never admit aloud. but a tiny part of your brain wished, just for a second, that a Kaiju would drop down from the sky and rid the streets of traffic.

A great scream tore through the air. It was unlike anything you’d ever heard before. Beyond animalistic. a noise only a monster could make. Horns began to blare ahead of you and as you strained your neck to look up you realised why.

“Be careful what you wish for…” You hissed to yourself, as a towering reptilian figure appeared ahead of you.

It was easily taller than the surrounding skyscrapers. The Kaiju resembled a lizard, a knock off version of Godzilla. It’s beady yellow eyes didn’t seem to blink and as the creature took a step the ground trembled. earthquake like ripples shook the earth, sending your cup of coffee teetering over in your car.

People had begun to panic. Pedestrians turned and ran in the opposite direction, not afraid of pushing each other out of the way. In your rear view mirror you watched as an office worker knocked an old lady over in his hurry. He didn’t bother to stop.

Now you’d never call yourself a hero. You weren’t particularly brave or even outgoing. Maybe that’s why you became an author. It was a great gig and one you got to do alone. So it came to a shock to you when you found yourself getting out of your car and rushing into the crowd.

People barrelled past you, mothers clinging to their children, workers evacuating buildings. even cats and dogs had taken to running for the hills. You did your best to push through them until you were there, standing over the old lady.

She was struggling to pick herself back up, her cane discarded to the side. Quickly, you grabbed it and with your free hand helped her up to her feet.

“Thank you my dear, you shouldn’t be putting yourself in danger.” She said her voice wobbling a little.

A quick glance down informed you that she’d been hurt. blood was trickling down her left leg. she needed medical attention.

“It’s okay, we need to find you hel-“ You began to say only to be interrupted by a thundering roar.

A ray of purple light shot only metres past you both. It hit a row of cars near you, each one vaporising into nothing but debris and ash. From where you were huddled you could feel the heat radiating off of it.

The old lady let out a scared scream and as you glanced up you realised why. The Kaiju’s snakelike eyes were trained exactly on you. You blinked as your body suddenly went numb. It was unlike anything you’d ever experienced before. To be under the glare of a creature so big, so terrifying. A primal instinct in you told you to run. to leave the old lady and turn and save yourself. But you didn’t. You stayed. Whether that was out of nobility or fear you didn’t know.

It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. Not when in mere moments you would be dead. reduced to nothing but ash on the sidewalk. No big meeting, no movie deal. You’d die a small time author no one has ever heard of. Your parents. What would they think ? their only child dead. They wouldn’t even get to say goodbye.

goodbye mum. goodbye dad. I’m sorry.

There was nothing you could do but try to shield the old woman as the Kaiju opened its mouth and roared. There was a great flash of purple and heat. heat unlike anything you’d ever felt. and then nothing.

Moments passed and you realised you weren’t dead. Neither of you were. The attack hadn’t come. But how ?

A feeble glance informed you how.

Stood only mere feet away from you, shining in silver and red was Ultraman himself. The city’s hero returned after months of absence. He was here. He was back. He saved you.

“Ultraman.” You breathed, staring in wonder up at him as he used a shield to divert the attack.

It was almost beautiful. the way the purple ray clashed with the blueish shield creating a symphony of light and colour.

The attack stopped and his shield dropped. Before the Kaiju could move, he raced forwards and tackled the beast into the ground. the impact sent tremors through the earth, one’s that almost sent you and the old lady toppling over.

“Quickly, let’s find shelter.” You slung her arm over you and used this diversion to try and drag you both to safety.

Soon after the KDF arrived, and emergency services. A paramedic saw to the old lady, Mrs Tanaka, who repeated endless apologies to you. She held your hand in hers and said:

“my dear you saved my life. i can never repay you. i am forever in your debt.”

Then as you started to cry, overwhelmed by stress and sheer relief at still being alive, she brought you into a hug. it was warm and homey. it felt like you were a kid again. like everything would be alright.

When you did finally turn up at your editors, six hours late and covered in scratches and blood, some yours and some Mrs. Tanaka’s, Sana flung herself into your arms. Your boss bitch editor, the self proclaimed Ice Queen of publishing, bawled in your arms like a homesick baby. The meeting was pushed back till you felt better and she demanded you take a few days to rest and de stress.

By the time you got home you were a shaking mess of nerves, trauma and exhaustion. if not for the blood and dirt you would’ve flung yourself on your bed and promptly passed out. But a shower was sorely needed and after the shower you realised how hungry you were. Saving an old lady’s life hadn’t left a lot of time for lunch.

There was a ramen shop below your apartment. a nice cosy spot run by a sweet old man who’d gone out of his way to actually read your book, after you’d finally told him you were an author. you’d been a regular there since you moved into your apartment a year ago. A nice warm bowl of ramen might just be the thing you needed.

In sweats and glasses you padded out of your apartment and down the stairs.

It was only nine thirty and the streets of tokyo were very much alive. People shuffled up and down the streets. groups of giggling university students, no doubt on their way to a bar or club. Oh to be young. Office workers were only just now leaving work, slumping down the streets like zombies. Their briefcases hanging limply in hand.

You shuffled into Mr Ozami’s ramen shop to be greeted with the savoury smell of veggies and meat. It was fairly quiet, a lull between the dinner crowd and night walkers. The booth in the back, your favourite spot, was free. Mr. Ozami didn’t even give you a menu, he nodded from behind the counter and went to whip up your usual.

It was nice. the pair of you exchanged barely any words but had somehow forged an unlikely friendship. right now it was just what you needed. quiet company and a warm meal.

Prompt as always, Mr. Ozami slid a bowl in front of you, popping a pair of chopsticks down. He nodded again and like that returned to his spot behind the counter. He knew you’d leave the exact amount of change for the meal after. Never a tip. you’d tried the first time you came and he’d immediately handed it back.

It was perfect. down to the last minute detail. Warm broth flowed into your stomach and slowly your nerves began to fade. an ease settled over you. tonight you’d sleep well. despite the absolutely harrowing day, you’d sleep well.

Or so you thought, until a stranger walked into the shop.

at first you didn’t notice. your whole face was almost in your bowl of ramen, too fixated on slurping noodles to realise someone else was in the shop. Maybe that’s why you were so startled to notice a guy standing by the counter, examining a menu in hand. Or maybe it was because the longer you stared the more you realised he looked familiar.

Too familiar.

And that’s when it hit you.

Tall, lean and dark haired. the man in front of you was Kenji Sato. New addition to the Giants and legendary baseball player.

Holy shit.

He looked up not giving you any time to wipe the broth off of for your face. a noodle hung limply from your mouth. for the second time today you were shocked still. The moments of eye contact were unbearable. His eyes flickered over you and you could see in his mind he was weighing you up.

Of all the days to be wearing sweats and slippers.

Thankfully he must’ve registered you as disgusting because he glanced away and back at the menu. With his eyes off you, you were free to slurp the noodle up and wipe the broth from your mouth, while trying to ignore the gentle stab in your gut.

Of course a superstar like Kenji Sato wouldn’t find you attractive. He wasn’t just a stupidly talented athlete, he was also good looking enough to be a model. in fact he did model. you’d seen the giant billboards with his face on, the flying blimps with him eating food or drinking something. not to mention in one fashion magazine there’d been this pic of him half naked with fake tattoos a-

No that was enough. stop it. today had been hard enough and you came here to relax. this person, because at the end of the day Kenji Sato was a person just like you, would not ruin that for you. You needed to sleep tonight. You needed to stay calm.

“Hey I saw you staring so i thought you might want this.” And there goes staying calm.

Kenji Sato was stood in front of your booth, looking like sin itself in his varsity jacket and sunglasses, holding out a signed baseball card to you.

For the third fucking time you froze. seriously it was becoming a problem. clearly you could only take action when it came to saving little old ladies. but anything else ?? nope not happening.

“Here then, i’ll just leave it on your table.” He half chuckled, sliding the card next to your bowl.

It wasn’t till he turned away that your brain finally started to work and your stupid mouth opened.

“O-oh uh thanks. that’s very nice of you but maybe you should save it for someone else ?” oh my god. what the hell were you saying.

Kenji paused and half turned to face you. one of his eyebrows was raised.

“It’s just,” you quickly tried to save yourself, “i’m not the biggest baseball fan and there’s probably a fan out there who’s really like it.”

nope yep you made it worse. why were you telling like the best player in japan, maybe the whole world, that you didn’t like his sport ?? Did you hit your head today and just forget ? It had to be the exhaustion talking, it had to be.

Amazingly, Kenji didn’t balk at your words. Rather the corners of his mouth twisted into an amused smile. He considered you for a moment and maybe he would’ve said something in response, if Mr. Ozami hadn’t come over with a take out box.

“Here.” He said plainly, handing the box to Kenji.

Kenji took it with a thank you, maybe a little perplexed at Mr. Ozami’s blunt way of speaking. he had been in the states almost his whole life. They probably did things differently over there.

“So um yeah…here you go ?” you held the card out to him, trying not to blush in embarrassment at your awkwardness.

everything that had come out of your mouth since he walked in felt stupid. it was like you were a completely different person. Why were you acting like this ?

Kenji glanced between you and the card. His amused smile never faded.

“You know what,” he grinned, “keep it. might just make a baseball fan out of you yet.”

He gave you one last look and it took everything in you to not turn bright red under his gaze, before turning and walking out of the shop.

It wasn’t till many minutes later that you glanced away from the doorway where he’d disappeared through. The card in your hands was shiny, a small laminated rectangle.

There he was, bat in hand, dark eyes shining, a self assured smile on his face. at the bottom was his signature scribbled in dark ink.

you flipped it over, expecting to find nothing but a blank white space. what you saw sent your heart into a cacophony of thumps. the blush you’d been holding back spilled over. every part of you felt red and hot and horribly unnerved.

scrawled across it in lazy handwriting were the digits:

+81 3 1234-5678

Kenji Sato’s phone number…..

[cinnamonest]

Malebolge

Yandere/Dark Morax x Reader

WORDS: 18.2k

-----

And thus, here it is.

Important note that I'm largely basing this on [[this post]] I made ages ago about a conquered and captive goddess!darling during the war era because 1) it has never left the back of my mind since making that post, 2) I have watched way too many of those Chinese historical palace dramas where they're essentially confined to the palace and I find that very hot and 3) utterly brutal war era Morax >>>>>>>

Warnings/Notes: DARK CONTENT, fem reader, noncon/rape, captivity, rough sex/pain/more or less physical abuse, moderate but not full-on asphyxiation, draconic features (namely claw-like nails, horns, and most importantly dual reptile dick because I am both incredibly degenerate and greatly appreciate that this seems to be a not uncommon HC so I know I'm not alone), double penetration (vaginal/anal), degradation, forced cultural assimilation, brief mentions of death scare/past death scare, Xiao is there for like .008 seconds with no dialogue

Also I have learned more about lizard mating in the past week than any human should ever have any business knowing so if you want lizard seggs info I now know way too much of it

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Malebolge (n.) ( /mælˈboʊldʒ/):

The Dantean 8th Circle of Hell. An inescapable cavern.

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

You winced at the slightest of shifting, the unconscious action creating a sting that stirred you from a deep slumber.

In the half-awake state, you grunted as you shifted again, this time rolling more onto your side, but the soreness merely shifted with you.

There was no position in which you could be comfortable. No matter what way you lay down, there was pain. Stinging pain, aching pain, throbbing pain, a multitude of acute points of pain dotted all over your body. As it always did, the painful sensation began to pull your mind into the waking world.

Your back and hips were scratched. That was the stinging pain. Marks where claws had gripped into your flesh, leaving inflamed, reddish lines over your flesh.

Your thighs and sides where bruised from crushing grip. If you lay on your stomach, your chafed and swollen nipples would sting even at the lightest contact with the sheets, and the position would only intensify the perpetual dull, throbbing ache inside of your body, internal bruises and the muscles of your orifices pulled and stretched and rubbed raw to the point they never ceased to ache.

It was nothing compared to moving, to the deep ache in each limb with the slightest of exertion, but even at rest, with no movement at all, a dull, throbbing ache pulsated across your body.

It wasn't the physical pain itself, though, that was unbearable. Pain was part of life. Pain was something every entity that lived long enough was all too familiar with — for deities like yourself that lived often longer than they could even recall, life was full of quite a great deal of pain.

What you hated about the pain, rather, was the way it always triggered a deep swell of bitterness and anger in your chest and stomach. What it meant. That it brought on a surge of emotions and thoughts far more unbearable than the soreness itself.

"Mm—?!"

You inhaled a sharp breath as pressure pushed against your stomach, a force that pulled you backwards across the sheets. Your back pressed into a soft warmth — not without sending a shooting pain across the surface along your spine, where the muscles had been pulled to the point of soreness from strain, a sore internal ache of your sphincter from stretch and wear, and a sharper sting against the irritated, raw flesh of your backside and the backs of your thighs.

The arm locked tightly onto your body, upper arm crossing over your stomach, forearm turned and pressed against your chest, all keeping you in your place. You could feel a gentle, slow rise and fall of the chest pressed to your back, bare skin on bare skin, without any layers of clothing separating your bodies.

Your eyelids just barely parted, only to squeeze shut once more at the morning light shining directly into your eyes. A small ray of light, given how small the tiny, high-up, barred window was, but it managed to be ever so inconveniently placed right at your frame of vision. You grunted at the burn, but it served to pull your consciousness out of the haze of drowsiness and into full alertness. There was no telling exactly what time it was, but the sun was up enough that you would likely be getting up very soon anyway. Those attendants — some of them devout human servants, some subjugated higher beings — always came by at a consistent time each morning to bring food and water, which often was your wake-up call each day.

You closed your eyes once more, trying to ignore the stinging and throbbing that ran all across your body, hoping to maybe get a few more minutes of sleep.

You shifted slightly to alleviate awkward positioning, rolling further onto your side, only to grimace as the shifting of your pelvis reignited a soreness, a dull ache not on the outside flesh, but a deep internal bruising. Your body jolted and stiffened, toes curling and face contorting with the pain.

But as you began to relax your muscles again, as the pain ebbed away, your brief jolting seemed to have awakened your bedmate, feeling a stirring and shifting behind you, the arm around you shifting in its position. The movement caused you to roll onto your back. Your eyes slowly opened again, and a soft noise escaped your throat.

You went still, thinking that it was a momentary unconscious reaction, but after a moment, the bedsheets shifted again as Morax moved, slightly propping himself up on one elbow, high enough of a point to look over to your face from above. Perhaps you could have closed your eyes and feigned sleep, had you thought to do so, but your instinctive reaction was to turn your head and raise your gaze up to that which looked down at you.

You were given a soft smile.

"Did you sleep well?"

The question, although you sensed genuine well-intent in it, was biting, almost mocking. You felt your jaw clench and irritation rise in your chest, fighting back the urge to become immediately spiteful.

As always, you had had trouble falling asleep, waking up multiple times in the night. The throbbing kept you from drifting off, and you hadn't been allowed to get up and wipe yourself clean of the slime sensation of fluids leaking out between your legs, thus forcing you to deal with the unpleasant, icky feeling all night — which now persisted as an equally unpleasant dried substance tacked on your inner thighs. Even after you'd fallen asleep, the slightest of movements in your sleep would jolt you awake with soreness. The same routine you underwent each and every night.

And yet—

"Yes..."

—was the word you forced out of your mouth, equally forcing the corners of your mouth upward, albeit weakly.

"Mm." He lowered himself back down, gently extending the arm that had been around you once more, turning you to face him and pulling you closer. A soft sound came out of your throat, but you made no effort to pull away. Your face came to rest against the god's chest, forehead brushing up against his collarbones.

"There's no need to rise just yet," he continued, stroking a hand up and down your back  — not without running over sore spots, but only lightly. "You should rest a while longer. You're undoubtedly worn out."

Once more, you had to bite your tongue to prevent saying something you shouldn't in response to the implication of the words and the vague feeling of degradation it carried.

The touch of bare flesh to bare flesh was an electrifying sort of feeling. Whether or not it was so in a positive or negative sense was, of course, dependent on the circumstances, but even if you could forget or disregard all of the circumstances you yourself were under, just the mere sensation consumed your sense of feeling. Touches from another person lingered in a way that touching objects or the feeling of one's clothes on their body did not. The brushing of another person's skin up against vulnerable areas usually kept covered would maintain a lasting feeling of awareness of that touch, lingering for a while thereafter.

And, of course, that touch of bare skin carried with it a sense of shame. A sort of subtle reminder. Of course, that was not even really the intention, seeing as you naturally fell asleep this way, but you were certain he knew the feeling it invoked in you, and even more certain that he found your embarrassment satisfying. Even now, you swore you heard a sort of heavy exhale in amusement as you stiffened when your bare abdomen pressed against his. You suppressed a shiver as your sore, inflamed nipples brushed against his skin, but couldn't help the grimace of your face. You tried to close your eyes, thinking perhaps you could sleep again.

But then, you stiffened further as he ran his hand down your back once more. Your shoulders bunched up, your breath hitched.

The motion was so gentle. Fingers barely brushing over your skin.

Nonetheless, those same soft, gentle touches of his fingers running down your back ignited a residual, burning pain. After a moment, he transitioned to using a finger to trace over scabbed scratches running down your back, as if it were a pattern. The hand trailed lower, softly meeting your hip, causing you to jolt as it bumped onto a bruise.

It then came down further still, to grasp at the fleshy, soft curve of your ass. Just the mere contact to the spot stung. The flesh was raw and sensitive to every little touch. Even the sheets brushing against the flesh sparked pain. You inhaled a sharp breath through your nostrils, one you were certain could not have gone unheard, but was not acknowledged nonetheless.

But it was so gentle. The touches were so light and so careful, as if handling something of great fragility. It was almost impossible to believe they were the same hands from which the pain originated.

He exhaled, breath warm against your face, and tilted his head down, grabbing your own chin to tilt yours up. His hand rested on your hip. Your heart began to beat faster.

And then, just as your lips were so close to meeting that you could feel their warmth, there was a knock on the door. You both turned your heads over to the sound, but you lay still as he stood, threw on the robe beside the bed, and walked over to the door, opening for a mere moment and exchanging a brief murmur of acknowledgement before taking something into his hands.

Right. This would be around the correct time, when you were brought food each and every morning. You weren't certain if it was merely customary for the harbor people to eat their meals in their bedrooms, or if it was just done to keep you confined to one room as much as possible... but if you had to guess, it was very likely the latter.

You let your eyes close again, only vaguely processing the distinct sound of a tray being set on the table at the end of the room, and the footsteps coming back over to you. His hand slid underneath your form and lightly pressed upward, prompting you to sit upright, which you obediently followed.

The shifting caused the sheets to fall down from your body, exposing your bare chest. It wasn't as if it really mattered, all things considered, but you nonetheless raised your arm up across your breasts to cover them to the best of your ability.

Your own robe was right there, well within reach, having been carelessly slung over the bedpost to your side. It would be a simple extension of the arm to grab it and pull it onto your body, to cover your nakedness.

But you didn't dare do so yourself. That was, you knew from experience, one of many possible missteps that risked upsetting your master. It was doing something on your own, determining something for yourself. Such a simple act was a transgression, because it was an assertion, a nonverbal declaration that you would and even could take an action, transition from one state of condition to another, not only without explicit permission to do so. Likewise, it not only made an assumption that you would be permitted to do so, but it was also an assertion that you could do anything at all for yourself, a notion that you were supposed to leave no possible implications of being the truth. Such a simple, brief action would be an act of both defiance, arrogance, and independence alike.

Thus, you stayed perfectly still. After a moment, thankfully, it was retrieved for you, and you held your arms out weakly at it was secured around your body. After another moment of hesitation, knowing not to leave the bed of your own volition as well, you waited until you were gently held at the waist and pulled to the edge, a non-verbal command to stand. You stood and waited for the hand on your back with the lightest of a push, a motion permitting you to walk over and sit. You murmured your thanks as you were handed food, and bit your tongue when you were given an affectionate — and that much more belittling — pat on the head.

You swallowed your food without really tasting it, a mechanical process you went through each day to keep yourself alive (and, of course, because the prospect of a hunger strike would certainly not be well-met). The atmosphere as you ate was quiet, outside of the light sounds of utensils hitting the ceramic and the faint sound of your chewing. It was an awkward, heavy sort of silence, but silence was, in a way, good. Silence, boredom, they were neutral. Not particularly good on their own, but they were also an absence of anything negative. All far superior to less pleasant alternatives.

But you couldn't distract yourself from the sense of shame this morning ritual always carried with it. It was so domestic, so compliant on your end, perfectly trained to a set routine.

It was not only your own demeanor, though, in which the calmness and gentleness of it bothered you. Just as you did not create conflict or instigate any unpleasant interaction, neither were you presented with any hostility, cruelty, or aggression, so long as you performed your role without any mistakes or resistance.

But you almost wished you were.

Your long life had by no means been sheltered from witnessing the brutality of the world, even if you had thankfully not been subjected to it prior. You'd seen various gods and deities of different kinds, many of whom would savagely beat and maim subjects and underlings, even kill them, without a second thought. Inflicting the most unfathomable suffering on the lesser creatures for no purpose other than amusement.

That had not been the case with you at all.

The draconic Lord was not needlessly ill-natured, but perhaps that would almost be preferable. Any interaction always ended up with a burning feeling in your chest of humiliation, always spoken to like a stupid child or animal ➖not in a cruel sort of degradation and condescension, but an endeared, affectionate sort, that made it all that much more unbearable.

At least with an outwardly cruel master, you would be able to find solace in spite, feel a sense of dignity that came with hatred for an oppressive figure. The form of degradation you were forced to endure, however, was not like that of a tormentor or oppressor that would maim and brutalize their subjects within an inch of their life at random for amusement, nor do irreparable harm to their bodies by starvation or mutilation. Likewise, there would be a sort of pride you could maintain if you were kept in horrid conditions; if you were imprisoned in some filthy dungeon, starved and beaten and barely kept alive, enduring that would be a mark of pride. It would validate you as an opposing force, you could look your tormentor in the eye knowing you did not succumb, you could still hold your head high.

Yet, you were kept healthy and well-fed. Everything you were given to wear was of utmost quality, and most often pure silk, gliding smoothly against your skin with every movement. Your conditions were those of a life many mortals and immortals alike would dream of having. And you were never treated with severe, true violence — nothing that would break your bones, nothing that would injure you to the point of needing medical attention or threaten your life.

And yet, in its own way, that in and of itself felt like its own form of degradation, in part because it was all forced upon you, unable to be denied even if you wished. To be cared for in such a way, but given no agency of your own. Treated like a prized possession, and yet almost nothing that happened in your day, almost nothing you yourself even did, was of your own volition, all forced upon you.

It was, you knew deep down, the life of a pet. Perhaps better analogized to a child or a toy, but nonetheless looked down upon as a fragile, helpless, stupid creature; inferior, yet simultaneously treasured and treated with a sense of affection.

And yet, all the same, your body was sore, scratched and bruised, pinpointed spots of throbbing and aching and burning pains littered across your flesh, and deeper aches still from the insides of your bodily orifices.

In many ways, it was one of the worst parts of each day, to come out of the dreaming world and be confronted with the multitude of little indicators and reminders of your subjugation. Every aspect of your life had been moulded into matching the culture of your ruler deity, stripped of your own, which had had, as you'd learned, a great deal of differences, despite not being geographically too far apart. Nonetheless, you were eating their food, wearing their clothing, sleeping in a bed and a home of their architectural style, speaking their tongue. And above all—

"____, today will be a bit different from your usual routine."

Your jaw clenched.

Yes, that was what you hated the most. That name. It felt offensive, insulting, to have been robbed of the name you had used for centuries, only to have another forced upon you. You didn't get any say in what it was, it was merely assigned to you from the moment you had come. The phonology itself was very obviously derived from their linguistic culture, replacing your own, taking from you the last and most basic, fundamental part of your individuality.

But you said nothing. You looked up, raising your eyebrows in an inquisitive expression.

He placed his palm on top of your head, in what you supposed was intended to be another affectionate gesture.

"I have important matters to attend to today." His voice was of his usual, neutral tone, gentle but deep.

You closed your eyes for a brief moment before giving a single, soft nod. That was one of many common phrases that each carried their own implicative, secondary message, left unsaid but understood nonetheless. If a given day contained a great deal of matters deemed important, that would often mean you would spend a great deal of your day sitting in place, listening to a bunch of people talk about subjects of no relevance or significance to yourself, quiet and still like a lifeless doll. Only present to be seen. The 'important' descriptor meant nothing to you in and or itself, as no matters that were dealt with here ever meant anything to you, it was merely attached as a means of getting a message of its own across: that the tolerance threshold for any ill-intended behavior, outbursts, or any other form of acting out was temporarily far lower, and that consequently, any such behaviors would hold significantly higher penalties than they usually held.

"Alright."

Your voice still came out hoarse. It wasn't as if there was much else to say. You couldn't bring yourself to care enough to inquire further, and there was no sense in raising some sort of objection to the matter.

Rather, perhaps there was reason for it in spite alone, but it was a scene that had played itself out so many times in the past that at this point, it would merely be like rereading the same book for the hundredth time, the same words and actions and events played out again and again. Even if the resentment in your heart urged you to be defiant out of sheer emotion, at this point there was almost a sort of boredom to the idea, one that your emotions were, at least for the moment, not strong enough to override.

Sometimes you would act out just to alleviate boredom with the usual routine, so it was merely a matter of, upon any given day, which option sounded more appealing. After a long streak of good behavior, the days would become boring enough that creating chaos and conflict was entertaining... then the consequences of that would put you into another streak of compliance, and the cycle continued. Right now, you decided against it. You merely raised a cup of water up to your mouth, savoring the coolness to your throat as you drank what remained of it.

That was, however, not the full extent of information you were to be given. He set the cup in his hand down on the table before adding more explanation.

"I'll be meeting with... adversaries, and I would prefer to keep your existence unknown to them." He straightened his posture where he sat. "You are to stay in here for the day. I will be back by nightfall. Understood?"

You merely gave a soft nod, not taking your gaze off the floor until you saw movement. He leaned forward over the table, coming down to grab at your jaw, tilting your head upward to force eye contact. You felt a sudden jolt to your gut as your eyes met. While clearly not actively upset, his expression still communicated displeasure, eyes narrowed and face otherwise unexpressive and flat, lacking the faint smile of contentment he so often wore. His voice was firm as he spoke again, repeating the question with greater emphasis.

"Do you understand?"

You nodded frantically. Were it not for the tension of the moment, it might have been a touch comical how his fingers squished at your cheeks, distorting your speech.

"Y-yesh, Mash-ter..."

He exhaled a slow, deep breath, momentarily closing his eyes. His grip grew soft, coming to gently cup your cheek instead.

"Very well, then."

He leaned further forward, ever so softly pressing his lips to the top of your forehead for a brief moment before standing up and turning around, making his way over to the door. "Should you grow bored, there's a good deal of reading material on the shelves behind you." He turned around to shut the door behind him. This time, as your eyes met, he gave you a soft expression, corners of his mouth upturning just slightly. "I'll send for someone to bring you food and water in a few hours. I'll try to return as soon as possible."

You nodded. You tried to put on a similar expression in return, but your mouth twitched with the attempt. "I understand."

You had to force the words out of your mouth. What you truly felt went unspoken aloud, but the spite remained in your head nonetheless.

Please don't.

And once the door shut, you were left in what felt like a suffocating quiet. A tense, uneasy atmosphere, despite the stillness and silence of the room.

For a moment, you merely sat perfectly still, staring forward with dull eyes and an absence of mind, no thoughts of any kind beyond a sort of static buzz in the back of your head. With your life as it was, it was all too easy to slip into that foggy state, lulled into a waking sleep by the mundaneness and emptiness of everything you did, to the point that your brain was easily able to achieve a state of nothingness.

But after a moment, your eyes began to dart around the room. Your gaze fixated on your own shadow for a moment before you turned your head to the side, as if expecting to see something different from the same layout as always, as if something would change. Of course, it hadn't; the only windows remained high enough that you'd need to stand on your toes just for your fingers to brush against the bottom edge, and were covered by metallic bars at that.

And while the light just so happened to shine perfectly into your eyes from where you rested each day in bed, the small size of the windows and high placement left the room very dim even in the middle of the day. You supposed this room had been intentionally built for the purpose of keeping someone in. It certainly performed that function adequately.

Your heart rate was increasing. The subtle awareness of your situation began to slowly trail to the forefront of your mind, still largely held back by a profound fogginess that went beyond sleepiness.

Your eyes did graze over the books at the other end of the room, but you had no desire to even pick them up. Such things had ceased to hold any interest. These days, the mere notion of most activities seemed dull, uninteresting. You doubted the subjects of the material would be of any particular interest to you, anyway. You merely sat still, turned your gaze back to the door.

There was an unspoken understanding about the situation; you had seen in his eyes before he left that he knew you understood. It was a trial of sorts, a test. You had not been left entirely alone before. On normal days, you were dragged around from place to place, often meeting with all sorts of people whose names and faces you made no effort to register in your memory. Kept in your master's lap to be looked at, to be seen and displayed. You usually sat perpendicular to him, so that you could lean onto his chest and close your eyes and block it all out.

And when you could not be with him, when it was time to go to combat in the chaos and war of the world outside, or otherwise doing something you could not partake in, you were left with an attendant outside your door. And yet, when he had opened the door to leave, you could see there was no one outside. That, and telling you outright that an attendant would come along in a few hours was in and of itself a subtle double-message, intended to inform you that that meant, logically following, that there was no attendant watching over you at that moment, that you were going without supervision.

This was, thus, you immediately concluded, a test to see if you would stay in place, if you would still be in the room when he returned. A test of obedience, loyalty, and perhaps, how much you feared him.

It was only natural, thus, as that realization settled in, that your mind began to race with uncertainty. The mere thought, naturally, triggered an immediate impulse. Your innate instinct was to launch yourself out the door that very second and go bounding away down the hall.

Yet, of course, the more rational part of your consciousness halted that impulse with a sense of wariness and caution. If it was indeed a test, which you were more or less certain it was, that also meant there was almost guaranteed to be a sort of insurance measure for the possibility of your failure. There could very well have been guards posted by the door, intentionally placed so you wouldn't have seen them when it was opened. Hell, for all you knew, he could have very well been lying about any obligations, and merely be waiting right outside the door, ready to catch you in any act of disloyalty. It was likely that any doors to the outside would be locked or barred. There could be a physical trap of some kind, too. That was perhaps that being the most humiliating possibility, invoking the thought of being forced to sit in an obvious display of your actions and wait to be found and freed.

You gave your head a quick shake to clear your mind, halting the train of thought in its place.

The safe thing to do was nothing. With action, with hope, came risk, and with risk came rightful fear. Doing anything other than staying put was sure to end poorly. To even think to intentionally violate the standard of behavior you were being blatantly tested for was incredibly foolish and naive. You imagined that such an attempt would be the absolute worst of transgressions you could possibly commit, and the mere thought of irreparably crossing some sort of line made you shiver.

Drop it. Forget it. Leave it be.

You repeated the words to yourself, over and over, trying to quell the impulse. It was for your own good.

...But there was nothing wrong with just poking your head out the door, was there? Even if you were immediately met with someone, you could easily say you thought you heard something and were just checking to see the source of the sound. That was as good an excuse as any.

That alone couldn't hurt. It would just be for a second. Just to look.

Slowly, without much active thought, you found yourself rising to your feet. You swallowed, and took a deep breath.

In a way, you almost hoped you would open the door and see someone standing there. At least then, that could be the end of it. Any faint hope could be extinguished, you could return to the comfort that came with helplessness, knowing you could not do anything. When that window of opportunity didn't exist, there were no what-ifs, no fear of missing out on an opportunity, no conflict of what to do.

But as your hand slowly pushed the door open, you were only met with a dark hall.

The halls were, by contrast to the room, far more dark and unsettling. Windowless spaces only illuminated by a few lamps along the walls.

You turned your head left, then right, analyzing both halls. The left one ended very shortly with an opening to another two options to turn down subsequent halls, while the right one carried on for some distance before doing the same.

But what you did not see, was any presence other than your own. There was no one. Only emptiness.

You felt something, though. Something beyond your primary senses. A subconscious, skin-crawling feeling, something that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, that made you feel cold all over. As if being watched, even surrounded by emptiness.

A nauseous feeling crept up in your gut. You shut the door in haste, shakily stumbling backwards as if having been shoved. You lowered yourself down to sit on the ground once more, legs feeling too uneasy to keep standing. The door seemed to loom intimidatingly before you. It was so close, and yet, the thought of stepping outside of it on your own felt foreign, somehow wrong, as if some extreme action that no one in their right mind would do.

No. There was nothing, you had seen so yourself. It was merely the feeling of dread becoming too much, holding you back. You were letting paranoia go to your head.

And that brought back the self-directed frustration, anger. You were letting fear get the better of you. You had literally seen with your own two eyes that there was nothing outside. You could walk out, and no one would know.

There was a burning sensation in your chest. A long-forgotten, supressed feeling. Your dignity and pride... how pathetic was it to not even take this opportunity to do something? Even if you couldn't get out, you could at least look around, familiarize yourself with what was around you. Yes, you likely wouldn't be able to find a way out today, but at the very least, scouting it out would be incredibly useful for the future.

To stay here and cower in submission and obedience... would that just go on forever/ In the back of your mind, you had always made some sort of automatic assumption that you would, one day, get out. You had always thought about the future in those terms, wondered what you'd do or where you'd go when that happened. The sudden, intrusive thought, even merely a passing one for just a brief moment, that this would be permanent...

Just as the thought crossed your mind, your eyes trailed over to a mirror on the other side of the room, the vertical sort that extended to the floor.

You sat in place for some time. Unmoving, staring at your own reflection, letting the minutes pass by in quiet, transfixed, unable to look away.

Your eyes looked dull and tired. Your body was slouched over, like a limp doll left to sit on the ground. You scanned every inch of your body. The way your hands rested limply in your lap. The scratches on your back that you could see the ends of where the loose robes had fallen down to expose your shoulders. Taking it all in. It felt like nothing more than a husk, soul long since departed.

Every little detail was a mark of ownership over you, a claim to your life, body and soul, a statement that they all were no longer your own. As if stripping you of personhood, redesigning your exterior and your habits to serve as a perpetual reminder that you were defeated, broken into submission.

And in that new, reconstructed person, there was no place to have any pride. Any dignity or self-respect was out of place, it did not belong, it was not supposed to exist anywhere within the new object that had been created. It was a smudge on a fine painting, dust on a shelf, dirt on a toy -- it would be unhesitatingly wiped away, ensuring that the respective possession of value was free of such undesired impurities. Leaving behind only a flawless object that would perfectly serve its purpose, to be used as it was designed to be.

A painting's was to be looked at, a shelf's was to store, and a toy... it was to be played with, used for the enjoyment of its owner.

Some time passed. Many thoughts came and went, miserable, bitter, and shameful. You sat there and stared. At some point, your eyes began to slowly close, your head felt heavy and cloudy, and your body relaxed...

But it was then that you seemed to snap out of your transfixation, shaking your head. You'd nearly gone to sleep sitting up, and would have wasted the day away. Such falling asleep during the day had become something of a habit at this point, often sleeping for far longer periods of time than necessary or even healthy, just to escape from the waking world.

Your chest felt tight with shame. No. You wouldn't allow that. To just sit there and be a good, obedient pet. Your sense of pride, whatever remained of it, couldn't allow that. The you from before wouldn't have allowed you to become like this, would be ashamed of you for inaction.

You rose to your feet once more and, with a deep breath to steady your nerves, made your way back to the door, opening it once more. After turning your head once again, checking to ensure it was still empty, you looked down at the ground, where the pattern of the floor transitioned over a straight line dividing the room and the hall.

You hesitated for another moment. The fear was still present, even if you did your best to go on in spite of it. It felt daunting, like some tremendous act.

But you stepped over it nonetheless, tiles cool on the soles of your feet. And then, you were left standing.

You left the door open, just in case someone came along and you needed to rush back into the room. You turned your head in each direction.

You had been down the left hall plenty of times, you were fairly familiar with the layout of the estate, having intentionally made sure to commit it to memory, should there be any possibility of finding an exit.

The right hall, however, you'd never been down. But not only was it so expansive it was difficult to take it all in, there was also the fact that as far as you knew, it only led to more and more rooms, you could see doors in a line down the walls as far as your vision extended.

It was still morning. If he said he would be back before nightfall, that meant you had a great deal of time. Although you were told there would be an attendant to bring you a midday meal, but even that would be at least a few hours away, even with you having wasted... you estimated around maybe two hours idly sitting in the room.

Even if you couldn't get out, you could at least pace yourself to go explore a bit and memorize what you found, trying to mentally keep track of time and return before someone came. If someone found you outside, then, you could claim you were searching for an attendant to request water or food. That was perfectly realistic, wasn't it?

As you took the first steps, a shiver ran down your spine. There it was again, that intense feeling of unease, something beyond the fear of being seen. Some sensation, some sense that made you twitch, eyes darting all around. There was still nothing. And yet, your heart rate increased even further than the nervousness already paced it, your breathing grew heavier and faster. You took a few more cautious steps. The feeling persisted, and in a way, seemed to direct you, a subconscious way of feeling the direction it was coming from, controlling your gaze to follow the sensation. Following what seemed like the silent command of that sense, your head tilted upwards to the rafters of the ceiling.

For just a moment, the slightest of seconds, you caught a glimpse of something.

A dark, humanoid silhouette, a smaller frame than that of your master's, barely distinguishable from the surrounding shadow, crouched down on the rafter beam and leaning forward. Bright yellow eyes that shone out in the darkness, wide open and staring at you with eerily intense focus.

A spike of panic lurched through your chest. You inhaled a sharp gasp and took an instinctive step back, your frame of sight disoriented and blurred with the movement.

And then, as your vision refocused, it was gone.

You blinked a few times, rubbed at your eyes, and looked again. Yes, there was nothing there.

You exhaled the air you'd been holding in, a shuddering breath.  You reached a trembling hand up to the spot where your neck met your jaw, pressing two fingers down into the flesh to feel just how hard and fast your heart pounded.

It was merely your own paranoia getting to your head, imagining things. You had to shake it off and keep going. Your footsteps hastened.

You still slowed yourself down as you reached a dark corner, slowly poking your head over the bend. Nothing down the next hall, either, nor could you hear any footsteps or faint chatter or anything that would indicate another presence. It gave you at least some boost in assurance, steadying your walking.

And the next corner, and the next corner. It was as if there wasn't a soul in the whole, massive building, despite there usually being servants to the god that moved around performing various tasks, and guards as well. The Geo god spared no effort in maintaining subjects to keep everything in this place in line, whatever said place was. You knew it was not the real world — that was how the realm had been, by whatever means, indued with some sort of ward that had left you unable to use your own divine power from the moment you were brought in. Many gods had similar dwellings... but they could all be entered and exited, and this would be no exception.

Still, it almost felt too easy. Following the widest hall and keeping to the right side seemed to lead you exactly the way you wanted to go, into areas silent but still dimly lit enough to see. After what seemed like a torturously suspended wait, you halted in place as you rounded the next bend.

Your heart began to pound not merely in fear, but excitement, an exhilarating buzz in your chest that elated your spirit. This hall did not end with another curve, but instead, a door.

A set of large double doors, to be exact. It was a deep red, the wood intricately carved, the frame equally designed with obvious devotion and craftsmanship. Larger and more eye-catchingly ornate than any of the doors lining the hallway, and set at the very end of the hall, looming before you in an almost unnerving perfection, picturesque in a near perfect symbol of the end of your short journey.

That was, of course, indicative of a front door.

A door leading outside.

You could feel your heartbeat throughout your body, each pulse a pounding in your chest, a rush through your throat and extremities. The tile was cold to your bare feet as they slowly, cautiously stepped forward, each footstep just the lightest and faintest of sounds.

Your hand turned the knob and pulled. It was quite heavy, as could be expected from the quality and authenticity of the wood used for such a large entryway. Still, with a tug, the door slid on its hinges towards you. Your shoulders tensed up at the low groaning sound of the aged wood.

The sunlight was nearly blinding, just the mere sliver that came through the gap to which you'd opened it, no more than the width of your hand. The sudden burn caught you off-guard, and you stiffened as your eyes reflexively shut, taking a moment to adjust before slowly, barely parting your eyelids once more.

As your eyes quickly adjusted to the light, you could make out the myriad of colors that composed the natural part of the realm, green all around of grass and plants, the blue sky dotted with puffy clouds.

The sun not only brought its light, but also a pleasant warmth that swept over the narrow vertical line of your body that the light shone upon. As you inhaled, your nostrils were filled with the invigorating fresh scent of dirt and sky and life, the air itself warm in your lungs.

For the briefest of moments, you stood perfectly still, taking just a single second to bask in the euphoria gracing your senses even in spite of your nerves.

But you couldn't just go running out, no, that would be foolish... right? You had no idea how to get out of this realm from here, and would certainly be seen by some guard or attendant or another if you recklessly walked out in broad daylight. If you were caught, it would be ages before this sort of opportunity would come again.

But it couldn't hurt, surely, to just peek around the door, to poke your head out and get a better look at your surroundings. You pulled the door a bit wider, just enough to fit your head through, holding the edge of the door propped open with your forearm.

There were no visible persons outside, either. No guards, no humans nor beasts. Just sun and grass and decoratively assembled stone and masonry that carried on for a ways into the distance.

And more importantly, you could see in the distance, at the end of a winding trail, a glowing pillar of light. The devices that led in and out of these ethereal realms. You had seen plenty in your time in godhood.

In that case... even if there were guards beyond your frame of sight, if you made a run for it, you could probably reach the end. And once you were out into the real world, surely even with your limited combative capacity, you could still utilize the abilities you possessed to get far away and ward off any pursuers. You could run far, far away, find a new land to live in. You could feign being a regular mortal and live life alongside them to conceal yourself. You were not the sort of overly-prideful deity that would consider such a thing to be an insult; in fact, such a prospect didn't sound bad at all.

It was all far too perfect. You found the corners of your mouth turning upward on their own, unable to conceal your excitement even if you had tried. Perhaps the higher beings in Celestia had taken favor on you, or decided to compensate you for your unjust persecution. Your breathing was so heavy that your shoulders and chest rose and fell with each respiration. Your eyes watered. It didn't even feel real, it was all so sudden, your mind felt frozen in shock. Your whole body was filled with a tingling sensation, your head felt lighter than air. You pulled your head back through the door, reaching back for the handle and pulling it wide enough to slip your body through, watching as more light poured into the dark hall.

A startled grunt came out of your throat as your body was jerked forward by the door slamming shut, pulled by your hand still gripping the handle.

The harsh sound of the door forcefully hitting its frame echoed across the vastness of the hall, bouncing off the walls, ringing in your ears.

You stood frozen stiff, still slightly leaning forward from the motion. Unmoving as a statue, paralysis seizing your body. It felt as if even your heart stopped, every organ and vein in your body completely gone still. There was a tightness in your chest, a heavy feeling in your gut, as if your stomach weighed your body down. Your hand was still latched onto the door handle, grip having gone limp, but arm still stiffly extended, unable to move if you tried.

A distinct, straight strip of shadow darkened the area just before you, blocking the light from above. As the echo of the door crashing back into the frame faded, only silence remained.

Your eyes slowly trailed upward. With hesitancy, a slowness out of the cold, heavy feeling in your gut. Delaying the inevitable, torn between frantic urge to know and yet desperately wanting not to. Suspending the few precious seconds of intentional ignorance.

A hand was pressed against the door, having shut it with force. The flesh of the arm outstretched above you from behind gradually darkened in color downwards to the hand that was pressed flat to the surface of the door, the end of each finger tipped with curved, thick claws, rather than fingernails. The fingers curled just a bit, with the slightest sound of a scrape against the wood.

An arm extended out directly above your head, trailing back to something behind you. You could feel a radiating warmth against your back, just shy of brushing against you, so close that you could even detect it without the primary senses, some sort of innate ability to sense presence.

Your jaw was slack, lips parted just in the slightest. Your mouth opened wider, as if to say something, but nothing came out, throat choked and tight.

Until, that is, you felt something brush against the top of your shoulder. The other arm extended forward, crossing over the shoulder to reach for your face.

Muscles across your body twitched and tightened, your eyes blew wider open still, body stiffening even further as a series of sharp pinpoints slowly, lightly came to rest on the flesh of your face, fingers gripping your jaw. Not too harshly, nor lightly. A perfect balance; not enough to cause real pain, but just heavily enough that you could acutely feel the sharpness of the ends pressing into the soft flesh of your face.

And with that, your stillness ceased. Albeit still stiff, every inch of your body began to tremble.

Your lip trembled. Your eyes began to water.

The silence felt like it would crush you, a heavy nothingness for several seconds.

"...And just what are you doing out here?"

As involuntary as your shaking, a high-pitched, fearful little sound came out of the back of your throat. Pathetic and shameful. The sound of your own voice in your ears made a hot, bitter feeling of shame course through your body, amidst the fear that seized your entire being. Your mouth opened, twitching as you tried to speak.

"A-ah... I..."

Any words you could have summoned felt caught in your throat. You went silent, unable to finish. A few more moments of tense silence passed. You stood in place, unable to bring yourself to turn around.

The hand on the door retracted, slowly moving downward. The arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you so that your bodies now touched. The body behind you leaned forward and downward, just enough to speak directly into your ear, face brushing against the side of your own.

"You're quite a ways away from where you were told to stay." He slowly drummed his fingers against the narrowest part of your waist. "You must have wandered out by mistake and gotten disoriented."

In a quieter, lower voice, so close to your ear you could feel his breath as he spoke, he finished,

"...Is that right?"

It was, of course, blatantly facetious. Pretending as if that were even a reasonable explanation, a sort of mutually understood, mock disingenuousness. Transparently so, no actual effort to make you think he was truly ignorant, mutually understood to be a slow torment.

There might have been a right answer and a wrong answer. Perhaps both were right or wrong, or perhaps neither was either. It was a question to test your reaction, see if you would be spiteful or obediently meek. Even so, the submissive option was also a wrongdoing of dishonesty.

But in your panicked impulse, that was the option you rushed for nonetheless.

"I..." You swallowed. "Y-yes, I... I was just..." You looked down, only to see with your own eyes how badly your body trembled. Another matter came to mind. "I... I thought you were with...?"

He waited a moment to respond. "...I was." The cold ominousness and implication of discontentment of his tone made you wince, but he spoke again before you could stammer out some insistence of your innocence, or try to apologize. "However, the guardian I had set for you came to inform me you were wandering around the halls, so it's adjourned for the day."

You grinded your teeth. You had seen something after all, it wasn't just imagination.

Why had you thought otherwise? Of course, of course he wouldn't have left you completely unsupervised. Thinking so for even a moment had been an act of supreme foolishness. You chastised yourself in your head for such stupidity. It was even placed up towards the ceiling with, no doubt, the exact intention of making you believe you weren't being supervised. It felt almost malicious.

Even aside from that matter, hearing those words made your heart sink further, knowing that having to deal with you had interrupted something of utmost significance. For one, that implied that, considering the risk of being interrupted, that he actually, genuinely had believed you would be obedient. Secondly, having disrupted something of importance made your transgression that much greater of an offense, and no doubt, thereby deserving a retribution that much more severe. You could feel your heartbeat across your body, in your throat, in your head, in your limbs, a harsh, intense pounding, pumping adrenaline-laced blood through your system.

But you remained silent. It felt as if something was stuck in your throat, blocking your breath and speech.

A few moments passed. No doubt intentional, dragging out the moment, not granting you the mercy of being spared the torturous dread.  And then, the hands detached from your jaw and waist respectively.

"Alright, now. Come."

His arm reached around your back, hand coming to rest on your waist, pulling you forward in manner both gently slow and lacking in force, yet the touch itself firm. His voice was calm, but cold, commanding. It was not aggressive nor harsh, nor loud, nor rough. His facial expression was not only equally calm, but even pleasant, the sort of expression that was just the slightest upturn of the mouth, but more of a smile in the eyes, almost amused. No contortion in anger or disgust.

Morax did not need harshness. Perhaps other gods and rulers and masters might. To require a booming voice and a snarl to one's tone, a forceful aggression and volume and threat of intense violence to instill submission. For others, fear had to be enforced on the subjects, they had to be made to cower.

But not him. He could speak in such a calm voice, and still expect to be followed. It was not an indicator of a lack of power, but the opposite — knowing that you knew that power without having to have it repeatedly demonstrated. Knowing full well you were terrified regardless, perhaps more so with the eerie aura of the calmness. Knowing you had no choice but to follow, that submission was already won, and that there was thus no need to do anything but simply command it. That the possibility of such a direct command being disobeyed did not even cross his mind. A quiet form of dominance only knowable by those at such an apex of power and supremacy that obedience came as naturally to their subjects as breathing.

And that was the thought that infuriated you so, so deeply.

Your heart felt as if it had stopped, a wave of cold that ran through your blood. Pure and unadulterated fear amalgamated with a deep, swelling bitterness, coursing side by side through your veins. Your jaw clenched harder and harder, your hands curled up into fists.

There was something else, though, beyond that. A heavy, burning feeling in your chest. Pressure that had built up, near the point of bursting. All the humiliation and subjugation you had compliantly endured, a foul taste of embittered fury and brutalized pride. You recalled your hollow, tired appearance in the mirror.

You'd been so controlled by fear from the moment you were captured by the other — admittedly far superior — deity, meekly complying most of the time, outside of a few outbursts and moments of defiance that were so infuriatingly written off as immaturity or merely being a brat, treated with indignation and a sort of condescension that yes, once more you thought to yourself that you wished was crueler, that would have been less humiliating and hurtful if you were treated like an enemy or a slave rather than a disobedient child, an unruly pet.

What would the 'you' from before had thought of your willingness to simply bow your head and follow...?

You took a step backwards, pulling yourself out of the grasp of the arm around you.

Perhaps, in part, it was mere reflexive instinct. But there was also force to the action. Intent. Driven by that same swell of resentment, so strong it overrode your dread. You took an uneasy stance, one foot behind you and the other forward, prepared to take another step back.

You both came to a halt. Your eyes met.

You still trembled, but you stood your ground.

The pleasant expression fell from his face. His eyes became half-lidded and narrowed, shoulders shifting downward as the arm that was around you came to rest at his side. There was an ominous edge to his tone as he spoke.

"...Surely you do not want to make this more difficult than need be?"

His gaze felt piercing. Your eyes darted downward.

"I..." You swallowed. "I just..."

It wasn't as if there was a point. Even if you were to turn around and bolt, you wouldn't even be able to get the door open before you'd be caught. There was no practical, logical point to resistance. There was nothing to be gained, and there was certainly a great increase in your imminent suffering if you did not.

And above all, you were consumed by dread, a fearful anticipation. Perhaps that, in part, was what kept your legs locked still, a desire to delay the inevitable. But above all, your pride demanded your resistance.

"...I don't..."

You tried to speak. You could summon the words in your head, at least. Words you had thought before, when you would lay in bed at night, playing out pathetic revenge fantasies in your head where you told him exactly what you thought and felt, like you were some kid imagining yourself standing up to a schoolroom bully you knew you'd never have the gall to face in reality. You'd say that you were sick and tired of being debased and degraded, that you weren't a toy, that you wouldn't tolerate being talked down to any longer, that you weren't an object to be owned. The fantasies always ended there, as you were unable to even imagine a scenario in which the aftermath of such an outburst ended well for you.

You couldn't get the words out. Perhaps in large part due to intimidation, but even still, because you knew that to some extent, many of those statements were wrong. In the most realistic sense, you were owned. That was how the brutality of the real world functioned. The superior ones exerted their strength, and in turn, the weaker ones submitted... or else, were eliminated. If one could successfully imprison and force the other to their will, they essentially did have claim to ownership.

Thus, you merely stood your ground. It was all you could do to look up at him with anger, however obvious the fear alongside it may be, on your face.

He merely huffed, closing his eyes for a moment. "Be reasonable." He turned his gaze back up to you. His eyes narrowed further. "...You will follow, willingly or not. I am extending you the opportunity to demonstrate remorse, and you would be wise to take it."

You remained still, and stayed silent. The quiet weighed down on your chest, as if to crush you. Part of you wanted to give in, a survival instinct to submit and obey, an urge to run forward and fall to your knees in a display of repentance. But you suppressed it, and remained in place.

He paused a moment, waiting for a response, but upon receiving none, he gave a deep sigh, reaching up to pinch at the bridge of his nose in exasperation.

"Three."

Your jaw clenched. The bitter fury rose up like a punch to the stomach.

Of all the things he could have said, to do that, to instigate this degrading routine you'd become so familiar with, was probably the worst.

Your heart beat harder. The very nature of the act strengthened your impulse to rush forward, the setup itself being to intimidate you with gradual increase of threat. Perhaps it was because you knew that, and how degrading it felt, that you managed to stay still.

"Two."

His voice grew a firmer edge with the single word, audibly colder and deeper than the first.

Your fingers curled, clenching your hands into fists. You grinded your teeth. You could feel your eyes water, but with all the willpower you could muster, you refrained from breaking down, from giving in.

But you did give in, at least in a way, to the fear. You couldn't keep looking him in the eye. You turned your gaze to the floor... but it didn't stop you from being able to see his face in the edge of your vision. Given the look on his face, you wished you had turned your head entirely.

He was silent as seconds came and went, having well surpassed the implied time limit. Staring at you with narrowed eyes and a displeased expression.

"...How childish."

When he took a step forward, your panic surged back anew, and you stumbled backwards, but to no avail. His hand locked around your wrist, and the pretense of gentleness momentarily disappeared as you were jerked forward with immense force. You didn't even get the chance to stumble, the force with which you were slung was enough that your feet left the ground and you crashed down to the floor with a frightened yelp, catching yourself on your forearms. As soon as you hit the ground, your shaking hands scrambled to push you back up, but just as you began to shuffle onto your hands and knees, you gagged as your weight was pulled off the ground by a hand grabbing the back of your robe, causing the front to choke you by the throat. Your feet stumbled to find purchase on the ground, but they were pulled off the ground once more, leaving your legs flailing in the air. You went airborne again for a moment as you were thrown upward, retching as your body was slung over his shoulder so that the bone slammed against your stomach.

The journey back seemed so much faster than your initial one, given your shorter legs and how cautious you'd been. You hadn't realized just how short the distance you'd traveled really was until that moment, as the return passed so quickly you became aware of just how pathetically short of a distance you'd truly gotten. You cried out and writhed, less out of a conscious decision, and more pure panic triggering some innate instinct. You were fairly certain you got out a few strained, stuttered words — wait and stop and no — but you received nothing in reply.

It was over in a matter of minutes. The door was still hanging open as you'd left it, but was shut with a harsh sound behind you. You cried out as you were unceremoniously tossed down, body weight slamming into the mattress so that it bounced back for a moment from the impact as you lay stunned on your back.

Your elbows pressed down to prop yourself up. You barely lifted your torso upwards before you were slammed back down again by a crushing force to your chest, claw-like nails digging into the flesh around your collarbones. He came to loom over your form from above, leaning with one foot on the ground, the other calf bent at the knee and resting weight onto the mattress.

“Your ingratitude is boundless, isn't it?” He remained perfectly still, looming over you even as you began to writhe. “To think, I could have killed you. There is no reason you shouldn't have met the same fate as every other—" his grip tightened, enunciating the next word in a sudden increase in irritation to his voice, betraying the faux pleasantness up until that moment, "foolish little pest that thought to challenge something so far greater than yourself."

Your eyes nearly squeezed shut with the strain of your struggling. The words made your lip tremble, your eyes burn. Every time the memory was invoked, you felt so utterly stupid, shameful over your own naivete.

You grabbed at the hand on your chest, and pulled with every ounce of strength you could summon, the full and utmost entirety of your strength.

It didn't even seem to be noticed, much less affect him in any way. The hand did not budge, nor did his face show any sign of strain, no indication that your full strength took even a modicum of effort to restrain.

"But I had favor on you," he continued, voice returning to a quiet coldness, "and took you to be my own." His other hand reached back up to your face, gripping your jaw with force and acute pressure as each nail dug into the soft flesh. “I chose…” his voice lowered to a murmur, “…to allow you to live…” he pushed your head back, “…under very, very simple conditions.”

Your body trembled beyond your control. He watched you struggle, golden eyes half-lidded and cold, lacking any sign of empathy. You felt a surge of dread spike in your chest as the nails dug into your flesh, just shy of piercing the skin. After a moment, he finished,

“...Do you recall what those conditions were?”

Your lip trembled. The last remnants of pride you possessed fought against breaking down.

Yes, you recalled perfectly. You had so quickly rushed to agree to comply, out of pure, pathetic cowardice at the terror of the moment, in a desperate attempt to have your life spared.

The way it was brought up felt so, so shameful. Yes, you really would prefer outright cruelty to this. It was, at least, more transparent, more direct.

The way of speech he possessed was somehow far more soul-crushing. Such a calm, low voice, and yet tinged with an unmistakeable condescension. But the tension in it had slowly increased with each word, like an ominous, vague shadow growing closer and closer.

Each beat of your heart sent a heavy pulse through your head, you could feel the blood as it circulated around your temple and back into your throat, over and over. Your body felt so cold.

You forced the words out, voice hoarse.

“To… to remain here in this... this realm…”

He didn't hesitate to press further. “And?”

“And… and…” you swallowed. Your voice began to tremble, audibly on the verge of tears. “To… to obey your... every word."

"...That's correct." His voice was still so calm, low and rumbling. As if it were a regular conversation, as if he wasn't holding you down. Nonetheless ever laced with that sense of condescension, belittlement in the pretense of the feigned pleasantness. "Now... I could be remembering incorrectly," his thumb rubbed in a back-and-forth motion against your chin, "but I believe that I very specifically instructed you to wait in this room."

You felt sick. You bit down on your lip, inhaling as deeply as you could to fight a sense of nausea.

"...Am I mistaken?"

You shook your head back and forth rapidly. Your eyes squeezed shut, tears collecting and pooling around your eyelashes. Your voice came out strained and cracking. "No..."

It was the best reply you could give. A lose-lose situation, where any answer you could muster was a bad one, yet the honest answer was, at least, hopefully the lesser of the possible offenses.

And with that answer, finally, that slowly-increasing tension, the underlying malice, reached its peak. As if that shadow caught up to you, the pretense of calmness and faux-gentleness dissipated. You saw his eyes narrow further. The hand on your chest moved upward. Your heart skipped a beat, a chill pulsated through your blood, but you had no time to react.

"Enlighten me, then. Why, exactly..."

His palm slammed down onto your throat. Your eyes went wide with panic, your hands reached to grasp at his arm.

He spoke the next words with gritted teeth, voice still low in volume, but now with an unmistakeable rumbling harshness to his voice.

"...Did I find you where you were?"

Your initial instinct, without conscious thought, was to struggle, back arching as your body lurched against the hold. It only caused you greater pain, pressure digging into your throat. You took a gasp to the best of your ability.

If you had thought it through, perhaps it would have been evident that what you said next was a poor choice, but much like your writhing, in your panic, your first instinct was to placate and defend yourself.

"I wasn't doing anything bad, I just—"

You cut off with hitched breath as his fingers curled into your neck, sharpness nearly piercing your flesh.

"Do not lie to me."

Your lip trembled. You swallowed to the best of your ability.

"I'm sorry..."

The grip tightened, cutting off your airways nearly entirely.

"It was a question. Answer."

Of course, he already knew. You knew that, and he knew that you knew. It didn't need to be said. It was not so much a question as it was a command -- not merely to "answer," but to admit, to confess. And that was, realistically, the only valid option you had.

"Because I... I wanted to..." You took as deep of a breath as you could, swallowing, shuddering on the exhale. "I..."

You went quiet for a moment. You took rapid, shallow breaths, mouth opening and closing as you struggled to speak.

"You...?"

It was mocking, but frustrated tone in his voice, clearly growing impatient. He seemed to, at least, realize you were struggling to speak, and thus the crushing force to your throat loosened.

Your fingers curled against the sheets as bitterness swelled in your chest once more at the insult inherent to how he spoke to you, the audacity to express impatience when he was the very reason you struggled to speak. The push and pull of fear and anger often wavered back and forth, one overtaking the other for a moment. Each was reactionary, the emotion that won over at a given moment for a given response each dependent on what was said or done to you. The anger had been building, pressurizing, but finally burst as it did — anger was always the emotion that would come out in one sudden, explosive moment, only to retreat as soon as the fear always won back over. You knew that, and could have predicted the cyclic movement of the two, but in the moment, it won out nonetheless. You had intended to finish with saying you wanted to run, or perhaps a more dishonest answer, but a more spiteful sentiment overcame you.

"Because I wanted to!"

Taking advantage of the sudden absence of pressure, you lurched upward to the best of your ability. His hand still caught your movement halfway, forcefully grasping your shoulder, but you curled yourself upward to come closer to his level, almost halfway sitting up, propping your weight on one of your hands outstretched behind you, the other you reached out and, to draw him closer as well as keep you from being pushed downward, actually lashed out and tightly locked your grip around one of the horns at the base of his skull. Your body trembled, this time in a deep, furious rage, as you took more heaving breaths. Your nose scrunched up with your expression of fury.

"I can do what I want! You don't own me, and I don't have to do a goddamn thing you say, you—!"

You cut off.

Rather, you couldn't speak another word. It felt as if you were choking, even with the absence of a weight on your throat.

Once more, a reactionary compulsion. Those spiteful outbursts were always so brief, so easily shut down, any prideful spirit crushed without effort by the factor of sheer intimidation.

In that moment, it was the look on his face. The eyes went half-lidded, expression blank, not outwardly, visually angry, but displeased, unamused. Much like with everything else, it was far more terrifying to you than any outward anger you'd expect from anyone else.

Silence fell over the room, only the faintest sound as he drummed his fingers on the other hands against the sheets, a sedentary stimulus.

"...Go on."

The simple phrase was ominous, foreboding in its cold, low tone.

You clamped your jaw down, shoulders bunching up as you released your grip and shrunk back, back hitting the headrest of the bed. Your throat felt tight, as if blocked, obstructed. Your toes and fingers curled in a fearful instinct.

"...N-no, I didn't..."

"No." He reached out and took your face in his hand, thumb digging into one side, fingers into the other. "You were going to say something else?"

You tried to shake your head, squeezing your eyes shut. "No, I wasn't — I didn't mean that, I didn't—mm!"

You whimpered as your midriff was pulled forward, and head downward, effectively pushing you back down onto your back. There was a sharp pain as one of the claw-like nails just barely pierced a layer of flesh from the force, not enough to bleed, but enough to feel the distinct sting, the sort of cut that would leave a raised-up, reddened line down your skin for some time to come.

Your chest rapidly heaved up and down with panicked breaths. Your eyes blew wide, staring upwards into those that looked down at you with an intimidating darkness. Your hands lifted upward, as if to push him back, but merely rested in front of you, fingers curled and trembling, uncertain and hesitantly refraining.

"In that case," he rested one hand on your shoulder to hold you down, "I will extend you significant grace," the grip tightened on the enunciated word, just enough for you to feel it, "and allow you to start over. Try once more."

His other hand reached for your throat once more and pressed down. A sharp inhale of surprise proved you could still breathe, albeit greatly restricted, as if sucking in air through a straw.

It was at that moment, though, that the worst possible thought came to you. It hadn't occurred to you until that moment, but at the reminder he gave about how your situation came to be to begin with, the thought did flash through your mind, the worst possible consequence. That created an entirely new degree of fear. Your whole body seemed to sink into the mattress.

Your mouth opened, but you had to squeeze your eyes shut to manage to get the words out.

"I was... trying to..." Your voice lowered to a quiet whimper, a natural desire for avoidance. "Run away..."

Your chest convulsed, but you could only inhale a small amount of air with each breath. You began to feel lightheaded. Only pure fear and uncertainty kept you conscious.

But with that increased fear, any room for dignity was long since gone. Tears pooled in your eyes and streamed down your face. Your voice came out in a pathetic, miserable, pitiful whimper.

"Don't... don't kill me... please..."

It was not the first time those words had left your mouth. Perhaps there was even a comedic, ironic factor to the similarity, the repetition of the words parallel to the repetition of the scenario you found yourself in.

Yes, it was very much like this. His hand had been on your throat then, too. You recalled it perfectly. Defeated and battered, literally crawling on your knees before you were lifted up by the neck and slammed into the wall. You recalled the way your body tensed as the cold tip of the spear pressed to your chest right below the breast where your heart rested, just enough pressure to break the skin, the way a slow trickle of blood had trailed down your side. Tears and snot had run down your face, your breathing was rapid, heaving gasps, your legs had pathetically kicked and flailed, your hands had clawed at the grip.

You were not told outright that you would live, no. In hindsight, that had probably already been determined, but you weren't told so. There had been the same suspense, making you wait, enjoying putting you in abject terror as your life flashed before your eyes.

Perhaps it was because you had been cocky, overly confident in your capacities, that that torment was extended. For someone who took such gleeful thrill in conquering, it made sense to relish in the way you begged and struggled. It was the same words. Very basic ones, of course, standard, probably what any conqueror of such prowess had heard a hundred times.

Don't kill me, please don't kill me...

Likewise, you could still hear the mocking tone to his voice, see the gleam in his eyes.

You're right. It would be such a waste to kill you when you can be put to good use, don't you think?

And he had given you that same smile. The same one you received whenever you cried, whenever you were blubbering out apologies for some misdeed. Whenever you begged for anything, whenever you shivered and cowered and curled up into him for warmth or comfort. Whenever you succumbed to pleasure forced upon you, melted into a drooling, twitching, barely-responsive mess. Seemingly soft and mild, but the longer you looked, the more and more apparent became the undertone of sadistic pleasure.

The same one you recognized now, as you dared open your eyes, even through the blur of your tears.

It was always the same. Even in the softest and most gentle of moments, there was still that same gleam to his eyes.

"You want to be forgiven, then?"

You sniffled. "Yes..."

Another pause. Drawing the moment out. Making you feel every second of anticipation.

"Mm."

His hand detached from your throat. You took a deep, gasping breath.

But just as you began to recover, he took a fistful of the robe around you, pulling you up from the bed, setting you down — not letting you fall, but taking care to actually set you on the ground — onto your knees. He sat back down on the bed, sideways so that he faced your crumpled form, feet on the ground.

"I'm sure you know, forgiveness is not automatically granted... it is earned." He grabbed your jaw once more, forcing you to look up at him. "Do you understand?"

You nodded, squeezing your eyes shut, sniffling. The soft "mhm" that came out of your throat sounded utterly pitiful.

"Good." He reached down to cup your face, tilting your head to face him, causing your eyes to open on reflex. Just enough to see the amused smirk on his face as he spoke. "Then show me how you intend to earn forgiveness from your God."

It hurt. It hurt in your stomach, your chest. A type of pain so different from the scratches and bruises, an unphysical, deeper pain, an emotion so strong you could feel it in your skin and bones.

But you crawled forward on your knees nonetheless.

"Yes... Master..."

A routine you could move through almost mechanically, although this was the first time you'd performed it so desperately, not to mention the added difficulty of your shaking hands. Leaning your body forward, grasping at buttons to unfasten. You inhaled sharply when one of the cocks hit the side of your face as it sprung from the restraint of clothing.

Your breathing was still heavy and rapid from the adrenaline. You took just a moment to take a few shallow breaths, but otherwise didn't hesitate to shove it into your mouth, desperate to placate and do what you could to lessen your Master's fury.

It was like some sort of divine torment from Celestia itself that you had to deal with something... you supposed the best word would be reptilian, in the anatomical realm. Your body was fully humanoid, mating organs designed to align to an equally fully humanoid body of the opposing sex. You didn't even know draconic creatures possessed two cocks, and each of nonhuman size at that, until you were firsthand forced to become aware of that information, via being doubly impaled unexpectedly. There was some control over the degree of form such beings as him took, varying transformative levels that could be achieved at will, and you were sure it was entirely possible to maintain the fortunate human trait of having only one -- but that was a luxury you were not granted.

You took a gasp for breath as your mouth detached with a popping sound, turning your head and immediately taking the other into your mouth, reaching to work the first with your hand, aided by the residual lubrication of your own saliva, and the existing layer of... whatever it was, some sort of mucin-like lubrication that coated them already. Your hand couldn't fully wrap around it, couldn't close so that your fingers would have touched, instead trying to twist your wrist as you moved your hand up and down.

Your eyebrows furrowed as you tried to force it further into your mouth, but your body stiffened as it triggered your gag reflex when it hit the back of your throat, not even half of it in your mouth. You tried to inhale as much air as you could through your nostrils, summoning the mental willpower to try and force it past the barrier of your throat.

You must have hesitated too long, though, or perhaps your effort was merely too poor to be sufficient. Your eyes snapped open when you felt a hand on the back of your head, but you could only let out a soft sound before your head was shoved downward.

Your stomach retched in involuntary reflex, abdominal muscles spasming as you tried to adjust. Your eyes watered once more, blurring your vision. Another hand latched to the back of your head, and pulled your head back before shoving it back down again. Over and over. It took all your focus and willpower to prevent yourself from getting sick, although you still managed to make some sort of sucking motion with your mouth, more out of mechanical instinct than active effort.

And it was painful, it was sore, from having had the same thing done shortly before. Like a wound being reopened over and over, there was never enough time between occurrences for you to heal from the bruises and scratches and stretched muscles of the former occurrence before it repeated.

After a moment, your head was pulled back all the way, a popping sound as your mouth detached. You took heaving, ragged breaths, desperately trying to suck in air before your head was guided to the side and the action repeated on the other, jerking your head up and down again, filling your throat to the point of a burning pain as it stretched. You could physically feel it stretching the walls of your throat, in and out, over and over. You began to feel lightheaded as you failed to sufficiently inhale through your nostrils.

"...Now—"

Your head was pulled off with harsh force. You took a long, heaving gasp for air, but within the same moment, you were jerked back upwards.

The movement was so fast and forceful that you were too disoriented to even process it. Your balance teetered, your stumbled as your arms were each held, fabric pulled off, stripping you down, before slamming your body back down onto the bed face-down. Prodding your legs with a gentle kick forced them wide apart to balance yourself, his hand pressed down on your back just below the neck, so that the soft whimpering sounds you made were muffled by the sheets. You grimaced as the nails dragged a short ways down your spine.

You grimaced, face contorting with the sting as you felt something prodding against the already raw flesh of the entrance of each orifice. "Wait, wait, I'm not—AH!"

Despite everything else being so prolonged and dragged out, this time, you were not granted a single second of hesitation or anticipation, no doubt intentional, so that you had no opportunity to mentally prepare yourself, so that the disorientation made the feeling of impalement come as a sudden shock.

You were unable to suppress a squeal as they both slid into your body at once, one into your cunt, the other into your ass, stretching already sore and spent muscles and pressing against bruised flesh, albeit the latter more innately discomforting and foreign, the stretching sensation far more intense. The sheer stretch of the size would have been painful even if your insides weren't already hypersensitive and rubbed raw. Your legs spasmed, kicking as a reflexive instinct, leaning your full weight forward.

You took rapid heaving, gasping breaths, trying to turn your head to the side so that your breathing wasn't inhibited and suffocated by your face pressed downward into the mattress. The noise that came out of your throat was strained and miserable, a long, high-pitched cry.

As another natural reflex, your body's first instinct was to get away, to remove the intrusion penetrating your insides. Your back arched downward in an attempt to pull yourself off, desperately clawing at the sheets, but you were grabbed at the hip and pulled back with force, sheathing fully inside you.

It felt full. Like your body was stuffed beyond its capacity, that there was too much within it. Intrusive, setting off some innate sense of alarm triggered by forcing something into your body of a size that it wasn't designed for; even for just the cock stuffed into your quim, the object itself registered as something foreign rather than a natural process of all living beings. The muscles reflexively clenched down and spasmed. Your breathing had just barely begun to slow as your body adjusted, before you stiffened at the friction against your insides as the intrusion pulled back, sliding out of your body.

You struggled to form words coherently. "Wait, wait—"

And squealed, a high-pitched cry, when his hips slammed forward again, driving back into your body once more. The movement felt as if it sent a shockwave running up your spine, from the point of collision to your insides.

His fingernails dug into your hips. The sharp ends broke the skin.

Again, and again. The friction burned, but the most intense sensation was the fullness and the impact — pain and soreness, but also unmistakable, unavoidable, natural pleasure that sparked with each movement as it rubbed against some specific spot inside. Your legs trembled from the intensity of the sensation, your mouth hung open, both drawing in gasping breaths, and spilling saliva out of your mouth, dribbling off your chin onto the sheets.

You had almost begun to melt into the pleasure when a harsh smack made you jolt. The sound bounced off the walls, the pain was a harsh sting where the palm of his hand had met the soft flesh where your backside and hip met. Your body lurched forward again, but was once more harshly pulled back to impale you again.

You made a pained sound, teeth grinding. "Ah, mmn— I'm sorry, I'm so—"

Another jolt of pain, leaving a hot sting against the flesh. You whimpered.

A third. A fourth. A fifth. It hurt. You squealed and cried out, struggling to form borderline incoherent begging. It did not help that the flesh of your ass was already so raw from similar previous corporeal punishments, for a range of offenses so broad and the offenses themselves so numerous you couldn't recall them all. Each inhale you took in had a coarse, ragged sound to it, as if choking on air. You sputtered out pleas and apologies, before your shoulder was grasped and pulled you upward, so that your knees rested on the mattress, and your torso was almost upright, slightly leaning forward. The thrusts to your insides slowed, more so grinding into your body, but did not cease.

"I still have difficulty believing you understand the severity of your offense."

"I do!" Your voice cracked as you spoke. You could hear how pathetic your own pleading voice sounded. "I really do, I promise, I'm sorry!"

There was a sigh, you could feel the fall of his chest against your back.

"You are so very fortunate," he continued. "You're taken care of to the utmost, you're given the highest standard of life one can have..."

"I know! I know, I, I am, I-I'm grateful—"

You cut off in a squeal with a harsher thrust, nails scraping down your hip so forcefully your face contorted with pain.

"You expect me to believe that, when you were preparing to throw aside everything I've given you?"

"I..."

You didn't have an excuse, and in your current state of mind, overwhelmed by pain and pleasure and fear and anger, there was no way you could summon such complex thought as to come up with one. Your brain could only come up with the automated, mechanical responses, the rehearsed phrases and words you were supposed to give, that you were trained and conditioned to give over the course of time -- I'm sorry, please forgive me, I won't do it again, so on and so on.

Thus, unable to come up with anything better, you merely hung your head, shoulders shaking with sobs as you gave the only answer you could think of.

"I'm sorry..."

He sighed again. "That's the best answer you can give, then?"

But after a pause, he added, with a smirk you could hear in his voice even if you couldn't see it,

"Or are you just too overwhelmed to think straight?"

You only whimpered. It was too much. The fullness, the soreness, the sparks of pleasure, it all was too much put together, overloading your brain. You shook your head, not so much in a negatory response to the question as it was just an expression of your desperation and clouded mind.

You grunted in surprise as you were lifted by an arm around your waist, coming to be set down so the balls of your feet touched the ground — although they shook so badly they were virtually useless, the vast majority of your weight supported by his arms. Your body was bent forward at the waist, one arm around it to support you, the other coming to grasp at your throat, essentially holding you up. Another thrust made you squeal again, feet stumbling against the ground.

Even in your overwhelmed state, the realization felt like a punch to the stomach.

It was no coincidence, no mistake, that you were positioned this way. Bitter, helpless fury swelled in your chest.

The exact same position you'd been held in that first time, squealing and crying and cursing as you were relentlessly fucked out in the open, before a multitude of your own subjects and other deities caught up in the combat.

It was true, as he'd said, that you had made a mistake that cost you. The other gods that you'd faced were, by comparison, so utterly weak, even non-combative deity a like yourself had managed to fend them off. You had known stronger gods existed, but the degree was such that it was beyond your ability to fathom, a level of strength far beyond what you ever would have imagined until you came to know it firsthand.

Thus, when the draconic god had approached you, you didn't feel threatened. In fact, you had felt insulted when he had given you a choice. That you could be spared from death by agreeing to relinquish your rule, and submitting to subjugation without resistance. And that otherwise, you could die fighting.

That was the first time you recalled that smile. You didn't even remember exactly what you said, but you hadn't even hesitated. Something to the effect that you would kill him, take him down, something of that nature.

That same grin, a soft chuckle. But lacking in excitement. Not the way one would laugh and grin before facing an opponent that would still be a thrill to fight. Instead, amused, as if finding it cute.

Is that so?

Even back then, the tone, the notion that you weren't even being treated as a worthy opponent, that he wasn't even worried, had enraged you, and in foolishness, you had rushed right into conflict.

It had lasted less than a single minute. To even call it a fight was not entirely reasonable; it was more you being slung around like a ragdoll across the near vicinity, over and over until you were beaten down to the point of immobility. A matter of seconds, before you were caught crawling, pressed up against that wall. And after your begging, after your pleading, you'd found yourself just like this.

The balls of your feet barely touching the ground, weight held up almost entirely by the hand on your jaw and the arm latched around your waist, desperately clawing at the former out of pure instinct with one hand, the other helplessly reaching behind you and pawing at the hips that slammed into yours, pushing back as if it would do any good, as if your weak pressing would actually stop the movement. Body weight tilted forward, knowing that you'd fall flat if he were to let go, only serving to further the feeling of panic.

At least now, there wasn't an audience gawking at the sight, but the degradation burned in your chest all the same.

It must look so miserable, so pathetic. If you had maintained your resilience and pride — then, and now — you would have stayed still. If you could endure it with a straight face, without making a sound, without struggling, that would have been a powerful move to play, would have wounded your tormentor's own pride, a metaphorical spitting back in his face. That should have been what you had done.

But you were weak.  You squealed and flailed. Obscene sounds came out of your mouth, lewd and pained at the same time. Tears streamed down your face.

You did struggle, but to no avail. Writhing, kicking, flailing with every ounce of strength you could muster did nothing, the movements continued as if you were perfectly still.

The absolute utmost of your strength was nothing.

It was a feeling of complete and utter helplessness, futility, weakness, unlike anything else you'd ever known in the span of your lengthy existence.

And you knew you would never be able to exact revenge, would never be able to satisfy the anger. You could never exert it, release it, feel the relief of catharsis that came with finding a way to exert the negative emotion.

Beings such as yourself lived indefinitely. If you had been human, you might have been able to longingly wait for the day that death could relieve you of your humiliation and bitter anger.

But with power came responsibility, and with allowances came restrictions. That escape was a mercy you were not allowed, nor would he ever allow any circumstances under which you could do so yourself. A bedroom ceiling far too high to even reach, a mirror unbreakable — you had tried — and never given anything you could turn on yourself.

The hopelessness was crushing.

You stumbled over your loose footing, a few rapid steps to rebalance what little of your weight rested on the ground. Perhaps having had the thought to do so from that, the hand around your waist reached downward, hooking an arm under your knee and lifting up, so that your thigh nearly touched your chest, only a small portion of your weight left on the ball of the other foot on the ground. With that, each thrust went deeper into your body, you gasped and cried out at the impact.

As you adjusted, you let your head fall, hanging down limply. It was all too much, too overwhelming. The pleasure and pain receptors of your mind were overloaded, your thoughts began to grow hazy and dull, a sort of blankness that consumed any coherent or complex thought. The pleasure and pain was all there was, the only thing you could process besides the high-pitched cries from your mouth and the distinct sound of wet skin slapping on skin each time his hips met your backside.

His arm tightened onto your waist, and for a brief moment, you were lifted up into the air, whimpering as you were shifted over just a single step or so, not removing himself from you in doing so. The movements started up once more within a second, albeit slower, drawn out, and your body held more upright. You caught an object out of the corner of your eye, and automatically squeezed your eyes shut, turned your head away in a desperate attempt to avoid it.

You could feel his breath against your ear.

"Look at you."

You squeezed your eyes shut harder, rapidly shaking your head. You didn't want to.

But as his hand gripped your jaw once more, this time directly digging the sharp claws into your skin, your eyes opened on reflex at the pain, and you were met face-to-face with your own reflection once more. And once your gaze locked on, despite initial avoidance, you felt as if you couldn't look away.

You were disheveled, limp-looking, as if an inanimate object, dead weight barely kept in balance.

You could physically see his cock inside your body, a bulging shape in your abdomen that looked unnatural, almost grotesque. The flesh around your eyes was swollen and darkened. The scratches visible on your side and hip were irritated, reddened and swelling, but the cuts were shallow, and only in one particular scratch, just a bit deeper than the others, did the tiniest trickle of blood slowly ooze out.

Looking at your face, though, was the worst of it, made that same burning, all too familiar of a feeling, begin to swell. Saliva trailed out of both sides of your mouth, tears and snot ran down your face. Your eyes themselves were irritated and reddened, more tears accumulating, giving your eyes a glassy appearance that reflected what little light poured in.

You stared directly into the reflection. The hand on your jaw, the dullness to your eyes. The way your hands weakly clawed at the arm on your waist. The way even now, albeit merely grinding, the bulge in your stomach shifted, and you could just see, from your angle, where the smallest sliver of the base of his cock was the only remaining length not buried deep inside.

It all seemed to culminate. A knot in your stomach, a weight on your chest. Your lower lip trembled. You felt your body shiver, limbs trembling, as more, heavier tears ran down your face.

His voice was low and quiet, but so unnervingly deep as it was, a low rumble that sent a shiver down your spine. His lips brushed against the shell of your ear, you could feel the warmth of his breath as he spoke.

"Do you understand?"

It was not preceded with a statement of what, exactly, was to be understood. Yet, you did understand nonetheless.

There were many ways to have put into words what that which you understood was. A few different details of things he may have meant. Maybe telling you something about you, something about him, something about the past or the future or the nature of things itself.

Perhaps that was, rather, exactly why he didn't say anything more — because there was no singular, exact statement to be understood. Many, many things that could be said, many aspects and demonstrations of the same concept, merely worded in different ways, but all ultimately the very same.

Any of those things that could be said, all amounted to the same, basic thing: a statement of order. A superior and an inferior, a better and a lesser. Each one true to its place in a million demonstrable ways.

And that, you did, in fact, understand. Even if you wished you didn't have to, wished you could be ignorant to it, and live without the unending, crushing weight of what you knew your place was.

You squeezed your eyes shut and nodded your head, sniffling. "Mm-hnn..."

There was a moment of pause before you heard a response.

"...Very good."

You inhaled a sharp gasp and let out a soft cry as sharper, faster, rougher thrusts resumed, reigniting both the burn and pleasure sensations deep inside your body as it was bent forward once more. You bit your lips between your teeth in an effort to muffle the sounds you made, but this was quickly noticed, and the way his nails dug into your jaw was a command in and of itself, even if you didn't automatically gasp from the pain. With that moment of opportunity, his thumb slid into your mouth, pressing onto your tongue and effectively holding your mouth open.

"Ahh, ah— hah—"

The wanton noises, thus, came without much restraint, albeit muffled and distorted as you tried to form syllables over the protrusion in your mouth, holding down your tongue. You had no resistance left in your body. You merely clung to his arms, one hand planted on each, weak and barely even noticed, not in any way inhibiting him from moving them.

The noises increased in pitch as his other hand reached up from its place on your waist, pinching and rubbing at one nipple, then another, keeping the forearm itself firmly pressed to your abdomen to support your weight.

"Don't take your eyes off yourself."

You had shut your eyes out of the pure intense sensation, but forced them open again. Forced yourself to look into your own eyes, to see your body bent and fucked and claimed. Even the blur of tears didn't mask the miserable shame of your expression — nor the lustful dilation of your pupils, eyes half-lidded and filled with an empty haze of pleasure.

You felt warmer and warmer, a distinct pressure, tingling sensation inside. Your breaths became heavier, louder, faster, your body began to shiver intensely, and your legs squirmed and twitched.

"Not yet."

You let out a long whimper in response, desperate and needy, only to cut off in a gasp as he grabbed your jaw again, forcing your eyes directly forward. This time, your gaze focused on his own reflection — your stomach twisted at that same damned, loathsome grin.

"What do you say?"

But your fury was weakened and exhausted, your spirit beaten and broken. You put up no resistance.

"I'm sorry, M-Master..."

It was bitter on your tongue, like poison in your throat. You hesitated, not wanting to finish the plea out of pure shame, but the physical sensation was quickly becoming overwhelming. The wet, squelching, smacking sound of skin on skin reverberated in your ears, a lewd sound that only triggered further innate senses of pleasure.

"P-please let me... let me cum..." Your head hung downward, your expression contorted with strain. "Please..."

"Don't look away. Look at yourself when you beg."

The command was firm and cold. You bit your lip, but slowly rose your head, forcing yourself to endure the humiliation of the act demanded of you, watching your mouth move with your words.

"Please... let me cum..."

Your lower lip trembled, your eyes stung. The shame of the words felt like a knot in your stomach. You watched as your body moved back and forth with the force of the thrusts, taking in the pleasure-hazed stupor evident on your own face. The warm pressure was unbearable, taking all your willpower to prevent climax.

"Mm." He pulled your torso back from your position where you'd been bent forward at the waist, leaning forward to meet in the middle, so that he could speak directly into your ear. In that moment, you felt him smile, felt his mouth against the side of your face.

"Cum for your God."

The high was an intense one, a euphoria surging through your body from the inside. You gasped for breath. Your insides clenched hard, a reflex that, had you been able to control it, you would have prevented, given the sheer size you clamped down on was such that the muscles strained painfully with the act.

The sound from your mouth was not quite suiting of the word 'erotic' — it was obscene, uncontrolled and unrestrained, high in pitch and accompanied by such trembling and strong involuntary spasming that your feet completely gave way, unable to even stand, held up entirely by an arm that caught what would have been your fall. Your eyes rolled back, and saliva practically poured out of your mouth as your head tilted forward, riding out the high until it was over.

There was not anything to take in with your senses, or any thoughts to be had, mind gone blank, a sort of fog of nothingness. The room seemed to spin. Your tongue lolled out of your mouth, head limply hanging downward. Your eyelids felt heavy, slowly closing. Even if something had been said to you, you wouldn't have even heard it. Weight suspended, it felt as if you were floating in the air.

After a duration of time you could not be quite certain of, the high began to dissipate, the adrenaline and dopamine slowly ebbing away.

In their absence, pain began to bloom across your body. The sting from the friction at the entrances of your holes, already so sore beforehand, now burned like fire. Your insides radiated a throbbing, dull pain, battered as if having endured a beating from the inside.

You gasped as the fullness suddenly disappeared, sliding out of your body with a wet, squelching sound. That feeling was always one of the most unpleasant parts of the experience — a hollowed-out feeling, insides clamping down on nothing, spasming and twitching as the muscles began to readjust. A mix of viscous fluids oozed out of each orifice and began to trail down your thighs. Both discomforting, grotesque sensations that made your muscles tense, that made you shudder as you exhaled, only to inhale another sharp breath as a finger trailed up your inner thigh, collecting the semen that ran down your skin before stuffing it back inside of you.

Your feet touched the ground once more, but your legs trembled in exhaustion and aftershock, a violent shivering far more noticeable than that induced by emotion. As the support around you disappeared, you stumbled forward, legs giving out beneath you and folding as you crumpled to the floor, catching yourself on your hands.

"Ah, you poor thing..."

Spoken as if he was not the one to inflict the state upon you, spoken with affectionate, endeared pity. A hand rested atop your head. You were nothing more than a pitiful little creature, in tears over a bit of pain.

You didn't make any move to swat it away, though. Your arms felt as if they were made of stone, heavily weighing down from your shoulders. Your shoulders heaved with each heavy, deep breath you took. All you could manage was to let out a low, quiet whimper.

There was a moment of pause before he stooped down, wrapping arms around your body, lifting you up and setting you down on your bed, sitting upright, albeit slouching forward as soon as you were let go of.

He gave a heavy sigh.

"So fragile... you can't handle anything further. It will have to wait."

Even in your stupor, the statement registered with a vague, distant sense of alarm. You tilted your head back up to him, making a soft little sound, inquisitive and confused.

He titled his head, eyebrows raising with a look of vague surprise.

"...Surely you did not think that was a punishment?"

You didn't respond for several moments. You stared straight forward at him, blinking, slack-jawed and limp. Your eye twitched. Your voice came out small and soft.

"...Wh... What...?"

"...That was..." his hand grasped at your chin and tilted your head upwards. "Merely reconciliation." He smiled, speaking every so casually, but not without that detectable tinge of mirth. "I've done nothing to punish you yet."

Your body twitched all over as you began to curl into yourself, shrinking back with wide eyes. You felt cold all over. You couldn't determine if it was from the sweat on your body, or going into a dreadful shock.

"But that being said," he added, "as I just said, you may lose consciousness if carried out now, and that is obviously unideal. It will have to wait."

Your lip trembled as you tried to speak.

"But I..."

You grimaced at the dry soreness of your throat, that much more noticeable now that the adrenaline was wearing off. It did not go unnoticed.

"...Ah. Don't worry, there's water nearby." He stood back upright. "It's close enough, there's no need to bother some servant with something so trivial. I'll get it for you myself, just one moment."

He spared no hesitation to walk over to the door once more. But then, he stopped.

"...I'd like to imagine it doesn't need to be said, but..."

He turned his head back towards you. A pleasant facial expression and voice, but a clear, subtle threat to his words.

"...you will not leave this room in the meantime."

You stared blankly forward for a moment, only hesitating over the near-comedic value of the statement, almost laughable in the most bitter of ways. You slowly nodded.

"Y-yes..."

He merely gave you a hum of acknowledgement, and stepped through the door.

The door closed. You were left sitting still, staring blankly ahead at nothing. Your limbs, eyes, and body still gave the occasional twitch. A bead of residual sweat trailed down your temple, making the faintest of sounds as it hit the sheets. The whole area between your legs gave you a discomforting, gross wet sensation, fluids drooling out of your holes. But in the moment, you couldn't bring yourself to so much as lift a hand to do anything about it, merely sat still and wallowed in the sensation.

You turned your head to the side, only to catch the image of yourself in the mirror once again. Your dull eyes, their emptiness visible even to themselves as they stared back and forth at each other in the reflection.

But after a few moments, you let yourself fall flat on your back onto the mattress, limp and numb, and closed your eyes. You laid still and silent in a half-conscious state, exhaustion and the deep ache across your body pulling you in and out of the brink of sleep.

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

[swampstew]

You Picked Dare

Summary: Why the hell would you play truth or dare with a bunch of pirates? Warnings: nsfw but mostly language and suggestive content, no actual smut, Kid Pirates being the Kid Pirates. Killer x Female reader x Kid

Inspired by the mega awesome @magnuspirate who did this delighful tease of two hunky hunks hunking around

Dare.

Dare. 

Dare.

Your bold statement had come out smug and confident, echoing in your head with a twinge of regret.

The Dare was to go into the hot springs and take a photo – of Killer and your Captain. Damn the others for knowing your kryptonite.

There was an opt-out option – to clean the communal bathrooms for a month. No fucking way.

As you walked through the island you took nervous hits of your blunt to ease the butterflies in your stomach. All you had to do was take a picture. There were no restrictions, you could be seen or hidden, as long as you got a photo of them that was all you needed to escape this torturous dare disguised as a group bonding activity.

Fuck the crew! You loved them but also fuck them. You were gonna get them back.

About a hundred yards away from the hot spring you took a final drag and snuffed out the remaining blunt. Giving yourself an internal pep talk as you took each step.

‘Position self behind a bush. Snap a picture. Sneak away and then run like the devil’s on my heels.’

Picturing your devil of a captain, your stomach coiled with anxiousness. Oh how you wished you could light up the roach.

Creeping between the foliage, you could hear Kid and Killer talking to each other in relaxed conversation. They didn’t appear to notice you, silently cursing as you realized they were still too far to take a photo.

Tip toeing on the patches of grass, you could make out their conversation more clearly.

“Ya ever think about sleeping with someone on the crew?” Kid suddenly asked Killer. You nearly fell over yourself when you heard the statement.

“Once in a while, rarely act on it though. You?” Killer mused.

“All the time.”

“Horn dog,” Killer scoffed.

“Can ya blame me? All our girls are hot as fuck.”

“Yeah, but I also see most of them as sisters…”

“You’re so pure,” Kid laughed. “Yeah they’re family, but they’re also not. I’m not saying I’d do anything about it either but it’s tempting some times.”

You felt as if you weren’t breathing, skillfully crawling around the shrubs eager to hear and see more, as silent as the dead. One breath and they were sure to discover you.

“Ahh is this about Y/N again?”

Time stopped. Your heart stopped. You didn’t dare move.

“Could be,” there was a tilt in Kid’s voice. “Don’t pretend you don’t think about her and what it could be like.”

“You’re being vulgar, which isn’t surprising, but what do you expect me to say? ‘Sure Kid I’ll bow out from another person of interest to give you the advantage as your friend.’” Killer legitimately sounded a little mad. Well like, personal hurt mad, not crazy mad which he was every single second.

“I’m a man with needs too. And I LIKE her.”

You wished to be a small lizard so you could watch them argue about you. Maybe the blunt was laced with something – wouldn’t put it past your crew to be honest.

Low growling preceded a laugh, and you could hear the sound of water splashing. Oh to the gods to be a fish in that spring.

“Alright fair enough. Would it make you feel better if we do it together? It’d be her choice who she’d choose no matter what, no hurt fee fees over it. Maybe if we come at her with a multi-partner thing, 50/50 she agrees?”

“Kid!”

“60/40?”

“Stop it.”

“Damn 10/90?”

More splashing of water, waves of it crashing over your coverage and wetting your clothes. Practicing your breathing exercises, you mentally pumped yourself up to get it over with. One snap and bam, you’re gone.

“What if we show her our dicks first?”

“KID!”

“Whadd’ya say Y/N? Wanna check the goods before you sample them?” Kid couldn’t hold back his laughter.

Gods be damned. They all sucked.

Gathering the last ounce of dignity and lighting your roach, you jumped out from behind the foliage with your camera, looking to the side as you snapped the picture. Whether is was worthy enough to pass was no longer your priority.

“IT WAS A DARE!!!!” you screeched as your turned on your heel and bolted. You poor thing, you didn’t make it past 1 yard.

“Oh you’re not going anywhere, Y/N,” Kid taunted as Killer wrapped his arms around you and picked you up. His towel becoming loose and distressed from your struggling. Bringing you back to the hot spring.

Taking the camera, Kid tossed it in the water with the smuggest face a motherfucker could make.

“We showed you ours, now we dare you to show yours.”

[justcallmecj]

Seeing Your Dragon Form: Dormleaders

Heyyyy~ Back with another chapter! Here, this is when they saw your full dragon form for the first time. Now, this chapter is a bit special. It'll be separated into 3 or 4 parts. One for the Dormleaders, one for the vice's + Ruggie and Floyd, another for the first years and a last one for anyone left. I'm also thinking about one for the teachers + Crowley. This one is the Dormleaders. You can take this as romantic or platonic, your choice.

Also, I'm gonna describe what you look like in Riddle's section so I don't have to in others. Just refer back to his section for imagery.

Riddle

He was certainly shocked, that's for sure.

He's only seen dragons in drawings or in the media, and even then they were mostly the mainstream kind of dragons. Ice isn't the first thing people think of when they think of dragons,

You had taken him to a small clearing of trees in the forest behind NRC since there was plenty of space where you didn't need to worry about hurting someone.

You towered over him, and he himself is pretty short so it made the difference even greater.

The usual cold air that followed you had increased in temperature, making it harder for him to be close to you.

Your horns became larger and sharper, like huge icicles. Spikes ran down your back just as sharp as your horns. Your tail swayed behind you and your eyes gleamed a dangerous e/c color.

Despite all this, you showed no signs of being hostile towards him. When he looked into your eyes, he saw a playful glint in them. Like you were studying his reactions and getting a kick out of it all.

He quickly put himself together after the initial shock.

You brought yourself down to his height and placed your head peacefully on the grass in front of him. He slowly made his way closer to you.

Gently, he placed a hand on your head. Despite the cold feeling, it didn't hurt. He sat next to your head and found himself quickly easing into a sense of safety and security. You laid your wings around him, enclosing the space and basically trapping him, but he didn't mind.

You made gentle, humming noises and he found the shaking feeling began to make him sleepy. He no longer was shocked about how you look like this and the drowsiness of his daily activities caught up to him. He curled up in the crook of your long neck.

"Thank you, for trusting me with this sight. I know how you feel, but you don't need to worry around me. Have a good nap, Y/N. I'm not to far behind you anyways."

Leona

You truly are an oversized lizard, huh?

He did whatever he could to keep the shock off his face, and it worked. You would've believed him, if you hadn't known him so well.

He didn't realize, but his tail stayed close to the grass, his ears twitch in your direction. More than a few of his muscles tensed.

He wasn't scared, just weary. He's always wondered what would happen if Malleus got pissed off at him enough to turn dragon mode. Now he just associates the thought with a sense of danger.

You could pick up on this though. You've always had a strange ability to do that when it comes to Leona. Your next goal? Be as non-threatening as possible.

Your tail gently curled around your hind leg, you sprawled your wings out in the grass around you and you brought your body close to the ground.

When he looked at you, he could clearly see the message you were trying to tell him. He understands you can't talk in this form.

He approached you. His muscles loosened when he touch your snout and your eyes closed, showing contentment.

Gently, he ran his hand up and down your scales. The skin on his hands pricked from the cold, a feeling he still wasn't used to.

His ears picked up on the faint hum you made. A smirk found its way on his face, and he didn't try to hide it.

He spent a bit of time petting you. He saw it as revenge for all the times you pet him with no warning. But, much to his demise, you didn't see it as anything spiteful. You quite enjoyed the attention.

"Hm. Fine. I'll stay with you for a while. But that's only because Ruggie won't come get me if I'm with you while you're like this."

Azul

He was...hesitant..to say the least.

He was nervous to see what you'd turn into. That's not meant to sound mean or judgemental, he wouldn't judge you. You don't judge him, why would he in turn?

More so, it's just that he doesn't know how he himself will react and doesn't want to hurt you with a negative reaction.

He knew you were nervous about yourself for a long time. But, you decided that if he saw you comfortable with yourself, he'd become a bit more confident as well.

It took a lot of convincing from you to lead him into the forest clearing. Even more for the Twins not to follow.

Once you two were there and he backed up to give you space, seeing you transform was the most stunning things he's ever seen.

A white mist covered you and a dark shadow on the inside(you) grew and changed shape. Into the shape of a dragon. When the mist cleared, he saw you.

Your e/c colors stared him down. You did what you could not to freak him out, but you didn't have full control of every habit of yours.

He could feel a few flight reflexes kick in. He stayed in place though. (You praised him for that later)

You sat. You kinda reminded him of a dog with the way you sat and waited patiently. Your tail rested motionless, wings calmly at your sides. Your head tilted to the side. To Azul, it was kinda cute. Like looking at a sea guppy.

He stepped closer, but kept a slight distance. You weren't offended, you knew you needed to take things slow. And you knew he was more worried about you than himself.

In an attempt to show him that there was nothing to worry about, you stretched out one of your arms, careful to watch your claws, and held it in front of him. Like how a human reaches out a hand to a scared animal. (Ironic since he was more human than you rn)

He got the message. He approached you and placed a gentle hand on your arm. The cold was somehow a comfort. It sorta reminded him of the cold waters in the Coral Sea. Slowly, he leaned into your touch and found himself calm. All worry faded away and you came close to him and gave whatever your equivalent of a smile is. It warmed his heart.

"I see. I hope none of my actions hurt you. You were very brave to show me all this. I hope one day, I can be like you with myself."

Kalim

He was certainly the most excited to see your dragon form.

He's never seen a dragon before, and The Land Of Scalding Sands doesn't have any legends or stories regarding dragons, so it's been an obscure concept to him.

He, without hesitance, followed you to the clearing in the forest and patiently waited for you to feel you were ready.

He held his breath as you transformed and only released it when he saw you were okay.

The dragon he saw standing in front of him. Blew. His. Mind!

Even before you could entirely orientate yourself he quickly threw himself onto you and wrapped his arms around your long neck, which was barely close enough to the ground for him to reach. (Especially since he's short)

He talked to you about everything and anything for 2 hours straight. He didn't mind that you couldn't verbally respond, it actually gave him enough time to learn what different ques you made meant. You nodded and shook your head for yes or no questions, you flopped your tail when you meant 'maybe', and your wings flutter lightly when you don't know how to respond.

He even learned what the meaning behind certain sounds meant.

"Sorta wish I had seen your dragon form earlier, but better later than never! Right?...I wonder what Jamil's doing right now?" Cue to Jamil who's freaking out because Kalim didn't tell him he was leaving the dorm.

Vil

He had come to know you pretty well. Despite that, he realized that he never actually asked you anything about your dragon form.

He's definitely thought about it, but never wanted to ask you for fear of making you uncomfortable.

When you told him you really wanted to, he worried that you may have been forcing yourself for him. You quickly reassured him that that wasn't the case. He then agreed to come with.

Seeing you morph was beautiful to him.

You were beautiful.

Your beautiful white scales tinted blue when the sun hit them at a certain angle. Your horns glistened with an icy nature, your eyes shone with a slight glaze of white over them. (Rook explained to him how this protects your eyes from the sun)

All he saw was pure, icy beauty. In a way, he couldn't comprehend why you've been self-conscious about how this form looked. Then he remembered how he gets when people comment negatively about how he looks, and how it can take a toll after so long.

He came to a resolve. To make sure you never again see anything negative about your dragon form!

With quick, confident strides, he approached you. Looking up to meet your eyes, he gave you a sweet, caring face.

He then began to fawn over you. His usual uptight behavior fell to allow his more caring side to take hold so that he could make sure you knew just how beautiful you looked. He commented on how well you seem to take care of yourself, your huge size meaning there was more to admire. Your horns looked like you took gentle care of them. Your snout looked adorable to him. The spikes running down your back, were sharp to the touch.

Those are all examples of how he expressed that he saw and took notice of all your beauty.

He sat on the grass in front of you and allowed you to place you snout in his lap as he gently rubbed your head while whispering sweet compliments to you.

"I hope that, never again, do you see anything wrong with your own beauty. And if anyone tells you other wise, just send them my way."

Idia

You want him to leave his room??? Whyyyyy?

He always thought seeing you in your dragon form would be the coolest thing ever. But he didn't think he'd be dragged out of his room by you and forced into the forest.

We couldn't have just done this somewhere at Ignihyde?

Then you transformed, and he no longer remembered why he was upset.

The fantasy loving weeb in him came out and he started to freak out.

He had a split second of hesitation, ice and fire don't mix and he could feel the ice on you, but his weeb took over and he rushed over. He was no longer shy with you.

His mind was going a million miles and hour and he asked you question after question. Until he realized that you couldn't talk. Which honestly bummed him out a bit but he quickly recovered.

Soon, he took to simply admiring you while you soaked up the attention he was giving you.

His warm fingers lightly slid across your cold scales, sending a shiver up his spine every time, but he didn't mind.

It shocked him when you reached out an arm and pulled him close to you. You held him against your side while you curled up like a puppy.

"Um, okay then. I guess we can stay like this for a bit. But, I do still have some games I need to play later, so not all day, okay?"

Malleus

You had zero problems with him. It actually went the smoothest with him.

When you two were having a conversation a while back, he had questioned if you had a dragon form like he did. You had explained to him that you did but you were to shy to show anyone. He had asked why and you told him that after so long of people bad mouthing you about how you look in fae form, you became hesitant for anyone to see you as a dragon.

He talked about his form in an attempt to help you feel comfortable. He also told you that you'd never need to be scared with him because he's just like you. That made it easier for you to get where you are now. Finally ready to show.

You took him to the clearing and asked him to back away so you wouldn't hit him.

The way you transformed was different from his. He created a puff of smoke around him, you made a mist of ice.

Once the mist faded, he quickly took in every detail about you. How sharper your horns are compared to his, your serrated claws. The white and blue tint of your scales while his a black with purple tints. (Well, that's what Lilia has told him.)

He immediately took to feeling your scales and tough skin, wings and tail. You didn't mind, not like you had a lot of feeling in those areas. He's a dragon to, so he knew exactly where he needed to avoid.

You were a lot more different from him than he was expecting. His scales were rough while yours were smooth. Your horns sharp, his rounded. Your wings were more angular and his were longer.

He didn't mean to get as analytical as he did, he was just really curious. After realizing how he was acting he took to talking to you. Unlike others, he could understand majority of your draconic growls and rumbling. You could actually hold a proper conversation with him.

Eventually, you began to get tired. Your eye lids drooped and you struggled to keep your head up. He saw this and told you it was fine to fall asleep.

He actually turned into his own dragon form and curled up next to you, intertwining your tails. Together, you both fell asleep there on the grass.

"I never thought that I would meet someone so like me, even if we are different. Thank you, Child of Dragons, for coming into my life."

[twstjam]

a/n: Breaking news!!! local fic writer realises she can write whatever tf she wants and did just that. Have this one-shot based off that one scene from httyd where Astrid and Toothless almost killed each other protecting Hiccup when they met for the first time but with Ace and Deuce, Malleus, and Yuu(you). I actually wanted to write something like this for a later chapter of "This will be the death of me" but I got impatient so. Consider this an indirect continuation of "This will be the death of me Part 1" maybe?? Word count: 867

----

Everyone who knew the infamous trio of Heartslabyul would say that you're the most rational one. Ace was a mischievous trickster and Deuce was well-meaning but temperamental with not as much brain as he had brawn, so you're usually the one playing the mediator or guiding your group onto the safe(r) path.

So when Ace and Deuce tailed after you as you wandered away from camp again to most definitely not forage for berries, the last thing they expected was for you to be cuddling up with the void itself.

Ace and Deuce weren't the sharpest tools in the shed, but they reacted like any person would upon seeing their fellow idiot friend in the clutches of death.

"Get down!"

A flash of magic shot from Deuce's magic pen. It bounced harmlessly off the dragon's hide, but it was caught off-guard and the force of the blast caused it to stagger. The distraction allowed Ace to jump in and drag you down to the ground with him to cover you from any attacks.

Upon being startled, the dragon reared up, long neck stretching out to lift its massive, horned head and bare its razor-sharp teeth. Its black wings spread and seemed to shroud the entire forest in darkness as they stretched to their full length.

The creature's roar was ear-splitting, not unlike the thunder that rumbled in the previously clear sky. While you lay dazed on the ground, Ace was quick to get back on his feet and stand between you and the angry beast.

"Run!" he screamed. Ace and Deuce raised their magical pens. The winged beast narrowed its glowing green gaze before lunging—

"No!" You sprang to your feet and forcefully pulled your friends behind you, narrowly saving them from being torn to shreds by a thousand pounds of rampaging dragon. They both fell to the ground with surprised yells, magic pens scattering as you scrambled to placate the dragon throwing a hissy fit.

"It's okay, it's okay!" you rushed out as you held your arms up. You pushed the dragon back when it tried to move past you and Ace and Deuce gaped incredulously as you somehow wrestled it back from snapping them up in its jaws. "They're my friends."

To your friends' utter bewilderment, you held the dragon's head close and began to stroke its scaly snout. The creature continued to growl, its green eyes ablaze with fury, but it leaned its weight against you instead of lunging forward again.

"You guys scared him," you grunted, fighting with your own weight against the dragon when it ducked its head forward with a snarl.

"We scared him?!" Ace sputtered incredulously as he and Deuce stumbled back to their feet. They tensed simultaneously when the dragon hissed and green sparks jumped out of its mouth. "You're kidding, right?!"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, easy there," you said in the most calming tone you could muster to the oversized lizard in your arms despite your heart beating out of your chest. "Calm down. It's okay, Tsunotarou—"

"Tsuno—What?" Deuce spluttered.

"You call that… thing… Tsunotarou?!"

"Ace, I'm trying to save you guys from becoming dragon chow. I'd appreciate it if you didn't—" You huffed as you pulled "Tsunotarou" back down when it—he—tried to rear up again. "—If you tried to make yourselves at least slightly less tempting snacks??"

Ace opened his mouth to say some sort of retort, probably something along the lines of "What the fuck are you even doing hanging out with a dragon in the first place?!" but the aforementioned dragon huffed smoke out its nostrils agitatedly and he backed down. Deuce stepped in front of him, holding his arm out protectively as if it might do any good against a literal living flamethrower, but if he wanted to be the first in the direct line of fire Ace wasn't one to argue.

"Er—Sorry?" Deuce said sheepishly. The dragon narrowed his gaze and he added a, "Um—Sorry… sir?"

The dragon, even with his face that's layered with stiff armored plating, somehow managed to look unimpressed, but he seemed satisfied as he relaxed more against you. His wary eyes still remained on the boys though.

"Okay, I think we all got off on the wrong foot here," you said, as if almost getting mauled by a dragon was comparable to "getting off on the wrong foot". "Ace, Deuce; this is Tsunotarou. Tsunotarou, Ace and Deuce."

The dragon huffed as if in greeting, but it was far from friendly. The only person he seemed to approve the presence of was you, who he continued to lean his massive head against. His spiny tail curled around your feet protectively which was all kinds of ridiculous for obvious reasons.

"Nice to meet you…?" Deuce said with a strained polite smile. Internally, both you and Ace commended him for trying.

"Yeah, we're real charmed," Ace added as he eyed the great big dragon practically snuggling up to you. "First of all: What the Hell man?! Second: How in the Seven's names did you get chummy with a fucking dragon?"

You smiled at him sheepishly as you hugged the massive snout nuzzling your neck.

"Ha ha… Funny story…"

[crystalflygeo]

That's one way to alleviate cramps ft. dragon!Zhongli + fem!reader

cw/tags: Period sex. That's... that's it, pls do not perceive me. Zhongli is a tiny dragon on this one. Chonkli. And he has a long dragon tongue bc of course. Oral sex (reader receiving) Blood I guess it's a given??? An attempt at fluff/cuteness and humor was made.

notes: @moraxsthrone Kel I want everyone to know this is 300% YOUR FAULT (this is a link ehe). Imma just post this before I think twice and then go hit my pillow I'm hungry and TIRED and delirious. Obviously.

“Hng- f-fuck… Zhongliiiii” You groan, squirming on the sheets.

You curl into a tight ball and your arms snake around your midsection, biting your lip hard as another wave of pain washes over your body. It’s sharp, muscles spasming, it leaves you sweaty and tense and whining.

“Archons why…” You mumble, letting out a rather strained sigh.

Your body relaxes a little, melting on the bed once the cramps are over, but your body still feels sore, and it’s hot, too hot, even when you’re down to your undergarments.

A very small and rather adorable dragon shifts frantically all around you, looking very much like a distressed puppy wanting to help but not knowing very well how to.

He noses at your cheek, scales cool against the heated skin, and then laps there trying to comfort you. “I apologize for not being able to help more, dearest.” The deep voice practically echoes in your head, reassuring, and definitely not matching his current cutesy appearance.

You smile softly and run your hand along his back, the scales shivering at your touch. “I-It’s okay Li… comes and goes…”

You’ve rarely ever seen Zhongli in this form, maybe two or three times actually. A miniature and… ‘chonky’… version of his regal Exuvia, with blunt horns and claws, and the size of your torso. He almost looks like a plushie, albeit a scaled one.

He’d said it was for your comfort, and honestly, you really enjoyed cuddling him on this form, playing with his tail fluff or let him ‘make biscuits’ over your skin.

And speaking of…

Once he sees you rolled over your back again, the overgrown lizard makes his way to your belly and starts pressing his small paws over your tummy, massaging. You can’t help the laugh that bubbles from your throat as it tickles a little.

“That’s better. I much prefer hearing your laugh, baobei.”

“Y-yeah… thank you Li.”

It goes on for a few minutes, the cramps seemingly dissipated for now as he purrs content and your body relaxes at his ministrations. It’s soothing.

But now another problem presents itself…

You groan again and slightly grimace. Your body is all sensitive, hot and sore, and he keeps insistently pressing and kneading at your pelvis, skirting the edge of your panties and so close… so close…

Archons how can you be thinking on that now? You were in pain merely moments ago! And now’s not the time to…

“Darling?” You see the small dragon sniff at the air. “Are you… aroused?”

Oh, damn his freaky dragon senses.

He has no right to sound that amused when he looks so cute either!

“N-No?! I’m- How could I-” You sputter.

His hearty chuckle invades your mind. “No need to be embarrassed, my dear. It’s quite understandable.” The dragon coos and nuzzles at your lower belly making you shiver. “In this stage of your cycle, you’re quite vulnerable and your hormones-”

“Stop. Stop talking biology to me I don’t- I don’t want to hear it!” You exclaim, face flushing. And yet you feel yourself getting needier.

And you know he knows.

“Very well.” His little paws and snout skim at your thighs and you feel the mattress shift as he settles between your legs curling there as if it was the most normal course of action. “Then, will you allow me to tend to you?” His head rests over your inner tight, staring up at you with bright rounded golden eyes.

“Li. I’m bleeding. It’s disgusting…” You mumble deadpanning.

The dragon only blinks at you “Oh, I assure you it’s not. It doesn’t bother me. And even so, beneath metallic smell of blood the scent of your arousal is rather tantalizing…”

Celestia’s sake.

You cover your face with your hands. “You perverted old lizard…f-fine…”

He only chuckles again and next thing you know you let out a shameful squeak as you feel the small dragon press his nose against your clothed core, hot and dampness mixing up together and causing funny feelings to swirl inside you.

Even in this form, Zhongli is nothing but thorough and attentive with his love as he nips and licks at your skin in smooth and carefully considered paths for a moment before starting to pull off your underwear on blunt teeth and clumsy paws.

Still a bit mortified but much hornier than you’d care to admit, you help out on the task, taking out the last piece of clothing you had on and laying back down fully naked. Well. Good thing the mattress was already protected in your paranoia to avoid stains…

The slow thoughtful drag of that thick dragon tongue over your folds has you immediately keening. You cover your face still embarrassed as he laps up the residual taste of blood and shed lining, dutifully cleaning you up.

The tang of copper and iron on his tongue makes him a bit feral and he enthusiastically dives deeper, rewarded with your moans that only spur him on. His little dragon snout rubbing against your clit as the long serpentine tongue enters you. Not as thick as usual but certainly just as skilled.

“Hah… T-That feels so good…”

“I’m glad.” The dragon hums proudly. “Pleasure and orgasms are certainly good ways to mitigate pain and allow the body to unwind.”

“A-Ah! Y-You can certainly… hng… multitask, hm? Lord of Geo?”

You feel that sinful tongue slide out of you wetly, and then lick insistently at the little bundle of nerves, pulling a high-pitched mewl out of you.    

“I’d say, the fact that you’re still able to talk means I’m not doing my job properly. Allow me, dearest.”

Pleasure builds steadily as Zhongli’s forked tongue works inside you, massaging and trusting in all the right spots, as outside, carefully blunted fangs toy with your sensitive swollen clit. He drags your climax out of you languidly and reverent and you come with a broken cry, dissolving into soft whimpers as your pussy gushes weakly. A heady mix of your juices and blood which the dragon happily cleans up with more swipes of that little tongue.

Once the job is done, the little dragon sighs and climbs up to nuzzle his head against your heaving chest and you drowsily start petting along the serpentine body, his tail curling around you, either possessive, protective or simply loving and you kiss at his snout. You stay like that for a while, both soaking up the other's presence in the sweet afterglow. Until Zhongli’s soft rumble appears back in your head.

“Not so bad after all, I take it?”

“Mm… I suppose not.” You reply, groggy and already half asleep. “Wouldn’t be opposed to… do that again…” You yawn.

“Of course, darling. Glad to help in any way I can.”

[dangopango00]

YIIPEEE finished the rest of the brothers with my hcs 😮‍💨😮‍💨

Notes utc

Lucifer:

- Grey streaks from like stress or sth

- Tired eyes (Honestly ik i put his eyes should be straight before but i decided itd be soooo kewt if he had downturned eyes like belphie)

- Kept his eye color bc it shows how hes aggressive but not all the time like silent but deadly bc muted colors

- dilf

Mammon:

- Made his hair more greyish bc his and solomons hairstyles are so similar

- Was also sick and tired of the messy anime boy hair so i made his hair messy in a diff way; more clean since hes a model and all

- His ahoge is supposed to look like a little wing kinda

- A few black streaks (dyed) bc of how much he respects luci

- Remnants of freckles (light seasonal freckles)

- I hate the eyebrows and eyes going through the hair thing if its fully covered but i had to show that hes being mischievous

Levi:

- Im so sorry to everyone who loved him the way he was but I HAD TO GREMLINFY HIM its in character trust

- He blushes the most imo like i feel like his whole face and neck would turn red

- His hair would be super messy like he would NOTT brush that shit its a waste of time in his opinion

- Made his messy hair in the shape of a fish fin (top) and tail (right)

- Made his mouth widest bc hes a lizard

- Gave him slight snake eyes (ok but imagine if it intensified whenever he was envious like how cats do but opposite)

Satan:

- Angelic ahh beautiful man

- Hair grows fast so its always a lil long

- Always looks a lil mad RBF

- Same hair swoop thing as Asmo

- Single ahoge is supposed to represent a unicorn horn kinda

Asmo:

- Little rat braid that supposed to resemble scorpion tail

- fake mole (hes not one of us yall.) (we let it slide bc hes chill)

- Similar swoop to satan (purposeful. Asmo styles his hair since he was “young” and he just kept doing it that way)

- #softgirl vibe

Beel:

- Ik i said idk what to say for him but i got a bunch of random inspo bye

- Looks like he was raised by wolves. Ok well thats an exaggeration but his hair is very unkempt doesnt get haircuts until his hair is down to like his shoulders and def doesnt style it

- FRECKLS ❤️ mostly on his cheeks

- Lighter streaks of hair naturally n it matches belphie 🥺🥺

- ahoge is supposed to look like fly wings but he also looks like a bnnuy and thats so kewt

Belphie if u havent seen him!

All the hcs i made more in-depth than on here

[homemadeaxolotl]

Obey Me x TWST Chapter 1

(Y/N)'s POV:

(Y/N) jumped a bit when they heard the smooth, yet mysterious voice, quickly turning around to see a slightly taller man with fair skin, dark clothes, and a black crow mask. (Y/N) looked confused as they looked at the man, quickly snapping out of their confused stupor as they spoke cautiously. "Umm… Who… Who are you…?"

The man smirked and chuckled as he stepped closer and spoke. "I'm Crowley. The Headmage of this school behind me." Crowley motioned to the large castle looking building behind him as he spoke dramatically. "Night Raven College." The eccentric man then turned to face (Y/N) and leaned in close to them, speaking curiously with a little bit of a little bit of a mischievous edge. "Now, who might you be?"

(Y/N) backed up a bit, a little startled by how much Crowley's eccentricity reminded them of Solomon as they spoke cautiously. "I'm (Y/N)…"

"(Y/N), hmm? Interesting…" Crowley smirked, backing up a bit as he spoke softly to himself. "Certainly not from here… Powerful magic energy… Even alerted Malleus during the housewarden meeting… But I couldn't… Or could I?" Crowley tilted his head sharply, much like (Y/N) remembers Mammon and his crow familiars doing, as he kept speaking softly to himself. "I quite possibly could…"

Suddenly, a new voice could be heard along with multiple different pairs of footsteps. "Crowley? Who is this?"

"Hmm? Oh, Divus! I'm so glad you all could join us!" Crowley quickly added onto his statement when he saw eight other people behind the staff. "Along with the housewardens and our prefect. How wonderful!" He then turned back to face (Y/N) and spoke. "This is (Y/N), the apparent source of the magical energy Malleus sensed. I was about to place them in Ramshackle with Yuu and Grim."

Before Crowley could say anything else, a slightly taller man with green and black clothes, black hair, and black dragon horns spoke up. "Actually, Headmage, I would prefer for them to be in Diasomnia with me, if it's all the same to you. I'm quite interested in finding out just how powerful they are."

"Tch, that doesn't mean the herbivore has to stay with you, you stupid lizard." A man with tan skin, shoulder length brown hair, and lion ears and a tail, rolled his eyes as he glared at the black haired man. "Guys, I think Leona's jealous of Malleus." A boy who looked to be (Y/N)'s height smiled jovially as he spoke teasingly, making Leona turn to glare at the younger looking boy, his tail flicking in annoyance. "I'm not jealous of that damn lizard. Why the hell would I care where some stupid herbivore stays?" Malleus, the "stupid lizard", smirked at Leona as he spoke almost condescendingly. "Now, now, beastie. There's no need to be jealous."

Before Leona could escalate any further, Crowley clapped his hands together once with a wide smile on his face. "I think Malleus' idea is excellent! As long as Malleus is okay with it, which he clearly is, our guest can stay in Diasomnia until further notice!"

"Shouldn't we ask our new friend what they think? They look quite confused." A man with short black and purple locs, predominantly purple clothes, and white gloves, quickly spoke up as he motioned to (Y/N), who did indeed look very confused. "Who are you people? And what's Diasomnia?"

"Seriously? You herbivores were just going to make them live with the damn lizard without even telling him anything?" Leona growled before rolling his eyes and turning his uninterested gaze to (Y/N). "This is Night Raven College and us seven-" Leona motioned to himself and six other people behind him "-Are the housewardens of the different dorms. The housewardens are Riddle Rosehearts, the Heartslaybul housewarden, me, Leona Kingscholar, the Savanaclaw housewarden, Azul Ashengrotto, the Octavinelle housewarden, Kalim Al-Asim, the Scarabia housewarden, Vil Schoenheit, the Pomefiore housewarden, Idia Shroud, the Ignihyde housewarden, and that damn lizard-"

"My name is Malleus Draconia, prince of the Briar Valley, and the housewarden of Diasomnia. And you will be staying in Diasomnia. Normally, this wouldn't happen, but you are a special case, child of man. I've never sensed such powerful magic from anyone before, so I am quite interested in you." Malleus smiled softly at (Y/N) as he interrupted Leona, who growled in annoyance. Malleus then motioned to Crowley and the mysterious man with split dye hair who had a fashion choice that would give Asmodeus a heart attack, along with the other man who spoke up earlier. "These two are Crowley, the headmage of this school, Divus Crewel, our sciences professor, and Sam. He runs the school store."

(Y/N) looked around as everyone was introduced to them before they noticed another person and a walking cat. "What about those two?"

The human sighed and stepped forward, smiling at (Y/N) as they spoke. "I'm Yuu, and this guy with me is Grim. He would have introduced us, but he was hexed by Vil not too long ago and Vil refuses to undo it." Grim looked very annoyed and Vil looked smug as he smirked down at Grim before turning his sharp gaze to (Y/N) as Yuu spoke again. "I don't think we ever got your name." (Y/N) nodded as they spoke. "My name is (Y/N)."

Crowley grinned and clapped his hands together as he spoke excitedly. "Excellent! Let's get you settled in, shall we?"

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

Alright, I finally got this chapter out! I'm sorry it took so long, it's getting close to finals week so I'm focusing more on my college classes right now. I can't promise I'll post another chapter before the second or third week of May, but I'll definitely work on it and I'll post it if I just so happen to finish it, but don't expect anything anytime soon.

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

Taglist: @axvfr

[greenunoreversecard]

A/N: some lovely people explained in reblogs. I hope I do ur ask justice!!! Also I'm gunna do headcanons bc it wasn't specified, but I'm willing to make a one-shot as well, just lemme know! :)

Humans are boring->Alastor x platonic! Reader

Ok, so the title actually plays into how alastor reacts when you tell him

You fr go;"Yo alastor, I'm a therian/otherkin."

He responds;"what's that" and then after you explains goes "Yeah that's understandable, humans are boring and shitty"(Alastor, you realise you were human at one point, right?)

Anywhizzle

Luckily when you got to hell you manifested the animal you feel/identify with

If there's a couple your mix and matched

I also feel like demons can control how animalistic they look, like when al goes full demon he gets more deer characteristics

so same goes for you

I can Def see you lounging full animal and al walking in and just starts talkin to you. Only after he gets on you for getting fur (if furry) on the Furniture

but if theres many animals it's a Lil more tricky

i feel like if its more predominant to a species type like canine, feline, reptile etc etc, then you'd take a more basic form of the species, and then depending on the subtypes, like house cat, small lizards, etc, then you get more specific features so on and so Forth.

But if it's like.. two distinctly different types, like how husk is cat with bird wings, then its a mixy-match without really being able to go full animal mode.

Either way alastor is helping with getting the care items you need

oh, your species needs a specific shampoo? Done. Preening? He'll help but he won't be to fond of it bc of the elongated touching.

Want a item that will help dysphoria (is that the right term in this context?) About not having enough of the features? Dw pookie, he gotchu

I feel like those were more therian centered

So! If your a otherkin, I feel like it's not to Likely you'll manifest with a lot of characteristics, bc a lot of mystic creatures are a lil op, ngl

So you'll definitely look more human-esque

Think like ears, eyes, horns, wings and tail.

if it's water based youll prolly have gills and finger fins, as well as minor scaling and different colored skin

But i see the dysphoria worse with otherkins than therians, just bc of how manifesting seems to Look

Alastor stil helps with any and all care products you may need, even preening and when scales get funky.

If dysphoria kicks in bros cooking you food and peeling fruit but dont expect him to be a shoulder to cry on and for him to pat your back.

if your animal is more water based he totes gets you a pool to swim in. Like in ground, deep as shit and lighted, heated and with nice walls.

Moral of the story: hell is actually good for therians and otherkins bc their all silly Lil animals guys (:

[darkstar225]

Dragonoid-Girl is saved by the Avengers ft Wanda Maximoff

Wanda Maximoff stood alone in the desolate ruins of what was once a Hydra base. Smoke rose from the remnants of the nefarious organization's last attempt at playing God. She had come here for a specific reason... A reason that had nothing to do with vengeance and everything to do with protecting a young life that had been twisted and manipulated.

In the midst of the wreckage, Wanda's sharp eyes caught sight of a figure emerging from the shadows. Y/N Kuso, a name that was both a reminder of her humanity and a testament to the pain she had endured. Y/N wasn't like the others. Hydra had experimented with her, using a concoction of lizard and bird DNA, morphing her into a dragonoid. The wings and horns that had sprouted from her body were not marks of power but scars of a tormented past.

Wanda's heart ached for the girl who, despite her monstrous appearance, held a soul that craved love and acceptance. The Avengers had found Y/N when she was just thirteen, a lost creature in a world that had betrayed her from the start. It had taken time, patience, and a motherly touch to help her heal.

The memories of Y/N's painful transformation haunted Wanda. The girl had been a mere child when Hydra injected the dragon DNA into her, the sudden growth of wings and horns causing unimaginable agony. It was Wanda who had held her hand through those dark times, whispering words of comfort as Y/N cried out in pain. The Scarlet Witch had become a motherly figure, a source of warmth in Y/N's icy existence.

As Wanda turned to face the approaching figure, she saw not a monster, but a young woman with eyes that reflected both the pain of the past and the hope of a better future. Y/N approached cautiously, the remnants of her draconic form still visible beneath her human facade.

Y/N - Wanda... 

The teenager greeted with her voice soft, as an echo of her gratitude.

Wanda had a motherly smile on, a tender expression that spoke volumes. 

Wanda - Y/N, my dear, are you alright?

Y/N - I am, thanks to you. 

Y/N replied as her gaze flickered to the destruction around them. 

Y/N - This was the last of them, right?

Wanda - Hydra won't hurt anyone else. You're safe now. *nodding*

The two walked away from the ruins, leaving the echoes of the past behind. The road to recovery hadn't been easy for Y/N, but Wanda had been a constant presence, guiding her through the ups and downs of adjusting to a world that had once rejected her. The Avengers had become her new family, and Wanda, in particular, had assumed a maternal role in Y/N's life.

________________________________________________________________________________

As time passed, it was revealed that Y/N had truly transformed. No longer the scared experiment of Hydra, she stood tall and proud, a resilient young woman with a strength that transcended her physical form. Wanda had been there through it all, helping Y/N rediscover her humanity amid the remnants of her dragonoid past.

Their apartment was filled with warmth, the aroma of paprikash wafting through the air. Wanda, standing by the stove, glanced over at Y/N, who was setting the table. The clinking of utensils and the laughter that echoed in the room was a testament to the bond that had grown between them.

Wanda watched Y/N with a sense of pride. The girl had blossomed into a remarkable individual, her past a distant memory. The auburn-haired Avenger couldn't help but marvel at the resilience of the human spirit, especially when nurtured with love.

Y/N - Smells delicious, Wanda! 

Y/N called out, her eyes sparkling with gratitude.

Wanda smiled, the lines on her face telling tales of battles fought and won. 

Wanda - It's the secret ingredient: love. And maybe a bit more paprika.

As they sat down to eat, Y/N couldn't help but reflect on the unlikely family that had formed. The Avengers, once a group of strangers, had become her sanctuary. Wanda, in particular, had filled a void she hadn't known existed.

Y/N - Thank you, mama. For everything.

Wanda reached across the table, her hand resting on Y/N's as she kissed her forehead. 

Wanda - You're not alone anymore, my dear. You're home.

And in that moment, as they shared a meal in the warmth of their makeshift family, Y/N realized that the scars of the past had faded, replaced by the love and acceptance that surrounded her. The Dragonoid experiment had become a woman, and Wanda Maximoff had become the mother she never knew she needed.

[blood-grove]

The Hunt

Masterlist

part 1 -> next hunt

x tws; violence , blood , injuries , gore , slight suggestiveness , sickness. <- more will be added possible depending on the part.

x pairings; soap x male!reader (😲)

x characters; soap , ghost , price , gaz + (others will maybe be added? idk ive never written a whole lot of characters cuz i get confused in my own head)

a/n; i may make art for this series! and i will also possibly making art for my merfolk au.

Alarm bells rung threw out the small town the yells and panicked cries of the townsfolk as the huddle and ran into houses under carts under anything.

You let out a amused chuckle that came out as a growl to everyone else.

You were admittedly showing off a bit more than usual today pushing your self up with another flap of your wings as arrows shot past your head.

Christ John had to get better aim.

You dove letting out a bone shivering roar it was getting boring doing the same exaggerated display but it paid well.

John or Soap as the guild nicknamed him all those years back was your very lovable boyfriend.

To say what you both did was wrong would be true.

If it didnt bring so much coin.

Slaying dragons was a respected craft and admired by many and all, The demand for dragon slayers was high since such a feat was beyond dangerous and mostly ended in death.

Dragons were usually hunted by groups who set up traps of sling shot nets , big crossbow contraptions meant to pierce threw thick hide and scales.

But Soap didn't need of that,

Not when he had you.

Speaking on which you felt something dig into your side as you let out a fake cry of pain as your turned away from the village you couldn't hear anything they were saying from up here but you could imagine Soap's heroic rant as he chased after you away from the village a few more arrows stuck too you as you decided to close your act for today.

A final dramatic cry as you dived down intentionally losing control as you crashed into the ground.

"Hey?"

A few taps to your face.

"Heyy wake up bonny boy"

You grumbled huffing.

"C'monn- You need to get up so I can pull the arrows off ya daft-"

You peered a eye open to him shifting as you got up shaking off a few branches and leaves from your head.

"Ye wanna know what name they gave ye today?"

You grunted as you got up shaking off any remaining stray debris before laying back down as Soap went to work with tugging off the arrows from you they never pierced your flesh magical properly imbued inside of them made them stick painlessly to the target more like tracking tag than real damage arrow.

"White Death, Ah think that's cooler than yer lest name na? whit wis it again.." Soap pulled off another arrow storing it back into his quiver.

White Death certain was a better name than your pervious infamous nicknames.

"Ah I remember was it Snow Scales or Ice Lizard-" Soap grinned as your growled looking away embarrassed.

Soap chuckled.

"I got 300 coin from you today- We could head somewhere nice grab some pastries from that Village a bit west I know ye loved there cinnamon rolls."

The suggestion had you perked up at the mention of the sweet which Soap grinned at.

"We should get all washit up na? Ye juist haed tae land in the mud—"

You flicked your tail at him sending him off balance and falling back into the ground as well as yo letting a raspy soundalike laugh.

Pushing your claw against the amulet that sat tight around your neck it glowed for a moment before you started to shift and change shrinking as Johnny complained about getting his satchel and clothes dirty.

Once it stopped glowing you were human size albeit a bit taller than Soap, You still had some draconic features your eyes still dilated into slits under the sun, Scales around you arms and back that were easily hid with clothes and gloves, and horns that were luckily short enough to be hid with hair or hoods.

You walked over to him holding out a helping hand only to be yanked down onto the ground by him.

"Payback-" Soap flicked your forehead as you huffed.

"Whatever you're not the one that takes the daring crashes and falls in out little acts-"

Soap just rolled his eyes. "I never said 'Oh and at the very end make sure to get covered in mud!'."

You huffed flicking his shoulder as he grinned as he retold his fake little heroic story he told to each village rambling on about these couple of cats he saw as you just listened fondly.

You visited villages with him sure when you were in your human form but it just always made you feel antsy the odd stares you'd get were enough to make you visits to cities, towns, and villages very sparse.

Soap had noticed of course the observant caring bastard that he is and wouldn't stand for it of course not forcing you but you both went out for little walks, for supplies, and for getting you and him clothes and gear.

That's what you loved about him, He brought you out of your shell his voice and mannerism really just made a part of you melt.

To think when you both met when he was going to kill you.

a/n; not very confidence in this but i wanna commit to it </3 my nerves r all over the place makes it hard to write.

[henryshakesmear]

Namegiving in My Hero Academia is like. Half really witty and half deeply unserious and I'm losing my mind over it.

Like nearly every major name is a phonetical pun. I'm not sure which of these are actually spelt with the right kanji to mean what the pronounciation suggests and I'm not gonna look it up, sue me.

Midoriya. This one actually uses the correct kanji, meaning green. Or black, if we're talking about hair color. You know, like Izuku's GREEN AND BLACK HAIR. Bakugou means detonation. Todoroki means rumbling, which is fitting for that clusterfuck of a family. Rei Todoroki- Rei means cold, or fridge, depending on the context. Enji Todoroki- Enji means deep red. Fuyumi- Fuyu means winter. Natsuo- Natsu means summer, WHICH IS GREAT BECAUSE NATSUO REJECTS HIS FAMILY AND ICE IS LIKE ONE OF THE BIG POINTS OF THE TODOROKI LORE AND SUMMER MELTS ICE. Dabi. Dabi fucking means CREMATION. MINA ASHIDO. ASHIDO SOUNDS LIKE ACID PRONOUNCED WITH A HEAVY JAPANESE ACCENT. DENKI KAMINARI MEANS ELECTRICITY LIGHTNING. KINOKO KOMORI. KINOKO MEANS MUSHROOM. FUMIKAGE TOKOYAMI? KAGE MEANS SHADOW. TOKOYAMI. MEANS. EVERLASTING. DARKNESS. TAKAMI KEIGO? TAKAMI MEANS ELEVATED PLACE. YOUSETSU AWASE? YOUSETSU MEANS WELDING. AWASE MEANS JOINT TOGETHER. YOU KNOW, LIKE HIS QUIRK. MOMO YAOYOROZU? YAOYOROZU MEANS COUNTLESS THINGS. YUI KODAI? IT'S NOT EVEN THE RIGHT HIRAGANA BUT KOUDAI MEANS VAST OR EXTENSIVE I KNOW I'M REACHING. IBARA SHIOZAKI. IBARA MEANS THORNY SHRUB AND THE -ZAKI ENDING SOUNDS LIKE A KANJI THAT MEANS BLOSSOM. PONY TSUNOTORI? TSUNO MEANS HORN. KOUSEI TSUBURABA. KOUSEI MEANS CONSTRUCTION. LIKE, CONSTRUCTING, AIR TO BE SOLID???? TETSUTETSU TETSUTETSU IS JUST. IRONIRON IRONIRON. I AM LOSING MY MIND. SETSUNA TOKAGE. TOKAGE MEANS LIZARD AND SHE CAN TAKE PARTS OF HER BODY OFF LIKE ONE. MANGA FUKIDASHI??? IMAGINE BEING NAMED CARTOON SPEECHBUBBLE. JUUZOU HONENUKI. HONENUKI LIKE DEBONING. BECAUSE HE MAKE THING SOFT. KOUJIROU BONDO. BONDO LIKE BOND. OR SLANG FOR GLUE. NEITO MONOMA? MONOMA LIKE MONOMANIA? OBSESSED WITH ONE THING? THE THING BEING HATING CLASS 1A????? REIKO YANAGI? REIKO LIKE REIKON? MEANING SPIRIT OR SOUL?? HIRYUU RIN? YEAH HIRYUU MEANS FLYING DRAGON. BECAUSE OF SCALES. SHIHAI KUROIRO. LIKE. LIKE CONTROLLING BLACK. CONTROLLING SHADOWS. HANTA SERO BE. BECAUSE. SERO SOUNDS LIKE CELLOPHANE WITH JAPANESE ACCENT. YUUGA AOYAMA. YUUGA MEANS ELEGANT. OCHAKO URARAKA. URARAKA MEANS BRIGHT LIKE BRIGHT MOOD. KYOUKA JIROU. JIROU MEANS E A R W A X.. MINORU MINETA,,, MINORU MEANS TO RIPEN OR TO BEAR FRUIT,..,

BYE I'M GOING TO L I E I N. M Y G R A V E

[theobsessedcookiefan]

THX FOR THE IDEA!!

Creds: aishi-sweetie

»»-----------¤-----------««

"Than the island itself"

Ananas Dragon Cookie x Child!Reader PLATONIC

[A/N]: You will have horns and two pairs of eyes, your special ability will be shapeshifting and super strength and resistance, in the bot your character it's not defined

Also sorry for the delay 😭😭😭 (I was trying to make the bot as platonic as possible [hard work tbh 😔])

»»-----------¤-----------««

https://beta.character.ai/chat?char=fxkt3jjvgnql614w1qid_advg99imfy6_0wp6p4cmse

Thanks for reading!

»»-----------¤-----------««

It was almost midnight, the moon shining over your small body. Thankfully nobody noticed you, the other cookies were too busy to pay attention to a weird cookie child running. You swore you would stop only once you reached a safe place but your feet were starting to hurt from running for so long, eventually you exhausted yourself and against your will choose to sleep on a nearby boat harbor, still with the fear of being seen you entered a ship cargo hold and took one white blanket that was covering a pair of barrels and cover you with it on your sleep.

You woke up to the sound of waves and the bright light of the sun "Maybe I slept too much?" You thought to yourself. Until you heard voices.

"Alright, just leave the barrels of berries there, then we can leave"

Leave? Wait.. Where exactly were you?..

When you heard who you assumed was the one who talked before you quickly hid in one of the barrels, using your shapeshifting ability to turn into a small mouse, you couldn't quite control your powers as you were still a kid but the feeling of being caught helped you a bit. The worker put down the barrel (Quite roughly you must admit) and you waited for two or three hours until you were sure they were gone. You took a look at your surroundings and noticed where you were, at a restaurant. You looked at all the fruits and vegetables with your stomach growling at the thought of food "Just a little bite.. They won't notice" You thought but at the end you ate three apples, after your belly was full you tried to get out of the place, if you stayed then you would most likely get caught.

A window was the only thing open, you tried with the door but it was locked, it was probably too early for the restaurant to open its doors, with a big breath you ran and jumped out of the window, thinking to yourself "Bird bird bird!" It didn't work this time and you fell face first to... The ground? Oh. The storage room was in the first floor! That was lucky-. After dusting yourself off you took another look at the place, definitely an island, the palm trees with coconuts giving it off.

Thinking about it it wasn't that bad, an island away from the city, a place where you could hide and live by yourself! But first you needed a place to sleep and live, with all your renewed energy and spirit you started to search for things you could use to make yourself a good home. It was a hard work but you managed to do it, using some tree trunks to do the base, of course sometimes you hated your special abilities and characteristics but you must admit they were quite useful sometimes as well. Once you finished you looked with pride at your home, hands on your waist and a few droplets of sweat on your face.. Using a blanket you "borrowed" from the restaurant as your bed and some tree trunks to give it structure, it wasn't perfect sure but it was yours. That moment of pride lasted three seconds before a loud noise was heard behind you, something or someone really big and heavy landed behind you, in fact it made you flinch a little, with a small nervous smile you slowly turned around only to see what could only could be a big yellow and brown lizard or better known as a dragon. A dragon was in front of you. Damn-

"Explain yourrrself. Now." It talked... WAIT A MOMENT IT TALKS?! Your only natural response was to look down almost immediately, praying it didn't saw the unusual features you had.

"I uh- sorry.. I lost my parents!" You lied. It was almost an instinct of yours. Who knows what the big creature would do to you if it knew you were a failed and fugitive experiment.

"Mhm.." Even though it looked mad it seemed to understand you were scared, who knows what made them feel a little compassion for you but they transformed into their cookie form, kneeling down to be to your height. "Great, now they could turn into a cookie." You thought.

"We both know that's not true, a kid who loses their parents normally would be crying their eyes out. What are you doing here?" With a sigh you explained, how you managed to escape that hell of a laboratory, how you sleep in a boat that arrived here, they seemed to believe you at least, the fact that you had horns and four eyes helped your case.

"I see.. Well you might stay for now." They said before doubting "I'm Ananas Dragon Cookie, what's your name little one?" After you introduced yourself they nodded "Do not worry, no one can get here to hurt you.. You're safe"

"You're safe" That word broke you, it was too good to be true.. You hugged them tightly without thinking, hurting yourself with their sharp scales in the process. "Hey what?!" Ananas complained but instead of pushing you away they just gave you some headpats. "Yeah yeah now shoo, I have things to do" They left afterwards.

The next days were better, you learned how to capture fish in a better way than throwing yourself at the first one you saw thanks to Ananas who kept visiting you "just to make sure you weren't doing anything that could harm the island" but ended up helping you build a better base, now built like a treehouse. They teached you how to cook something perfectly and even gave you fruits when fishing didn't work, it was obvious they took a liking to you, the way the dragon talked to you it was softer than normally.

One time you asked them to give you a piggyback ride on their dragon form, they first said no of course.

"I can't use that much energy just for a piggyback ride!" Ananas said, arms crossed

"Please? I can do something for you too! And that way we can be even!!!" That seemed to catch their attention.

"Hmm.. Okay, I can give you a piggyback ride if.. You are able to carry me too" They smiled genuinely at the request, Ananas knew you didn't like to use to use your powers but it was fair, a ride for a ride.

"Ummm fine!" With a deep breath you put both your arms around them.. And lifted them up with no effort.. "Ta da!"

They only laughed. "Okay okay it's fair now" And after that they gave you the piggyback ride.

After a few months you two got even closer, they even let you sleep on their nest when there was a storm, Ananas thought you wouldn't notice that everytime you sleep with them they hug you close to their body as a way of protection once you told them that the storms made you nervous because it makes you remember the sound of gunshots.. And it makes you think about the laboratory and the guards who used to carry big guns in case someone tried to escape.

On a normal Sunday when you were showing off your fishing skills they just called you something that would stuck with you your entire life. "You know? Even if you're my child you're more arrogant than me" When they realized what they've just said they got pale.

"That's how you see me?" You asked, smiling brightly, after all you've started to see Ananas as a parental figure yourself.

"Yeah yeah, don't brag about it" Ananas rolled their eyes, trying to rest importance to the thing but you knew it meant more than they showed.

"Pff.. Okay Nanas" You mimicked them, rolling your eyes as well, you caught a glimpse of their prideful smile, it seems you just got adopted, funny considering your first encounter with the dragon, but now Ananas seemed to care for you maybe even more than the island itself.

[notgonnaedit]

Healer's Heart

Infested

Summary: When Order 66 ushers in a new era, Althea and the Batch must find their place

Pairing: Bad Batch x Teen!OFC (clones being good brothers/dads)

Chapter summary: When a crime lord takes over Cid's parlor, the Batch must take it back

Warnings: Canon-typical violence, crime lords, use of a knife to cut off a horn, bugs being gross, hostages (If I miss a tag LMK)

A/n: Thanks to @bibliophilesince2003 for helping come up with some ideas for this chapter!

Master list

"Cid better pay us extra for that mission." Echo grumbled as the squad exited the Marauder and began their walk to Cid's parlor.

"Eh. It wasn't so bad." Wrecker said.

"She failed to mention the drop zone would be swarming with Gundarks." The ARC reminded his brother.

"It is not the first time she has left out key details." Tech added.

"And we manage to pull through every time." Althea said. "That's why we're the best." She flashed a crooked smile as she bumped her fist against Wrecker's, his own face beaming in a grin.

​​​​As they neared Cid's parlor, the crowd grew thicker. It was normal for Ord Mantell to be bustling with people, but this was new. 

It didn't change when they entered the normally dead parlor, now crowded with patrons. Guards in black armor hung around, and two Pykes left Cid's office.

"When did this place get so popular?" Asked Echo.

"Not our problem." Hunter said. Something had changed there, for better or worse the Sergeant didn't know, but he didn't plan on sticking around to find out. "Let's find Cid."

When they approached the door to their employer's office, two guards stopped them. "Where do you think you're going?" One asked, a hand on Hunter's chest plate.

What they didn't know was that Hunter fluent in the language of fist-to-face, and handled them accordingly.

But the mysterious events didn't stop there. Upon entering Cid's office where more guards. They trained their blasters on the squad, who mirrored their hostility.

"It's rude to barge into one's office unannounced." A Devaronian male with pale grin skin said. He sat behind Cid's desk, his legs on the desk and a pet in his lap. The beaded necklace Cid so often wore was sitting on the ornamental horn, a cause for concern.

"This isn't your office." Althea said, her grip on her blaster tight.

"Guess again." The man scoffed. He stood, placing his creature on the desk and revealing it's familiarity.

"Ruby?" Omega asked upon seeing the blue and green lizard. 

"She's my prized pet." The man answered as he walked in front of the desk.

"What are you doing with her?" The young clone asked.

The man examined his nails. "I paid. Cid delivered."

"And where is Cid?" Hunter asked, his words as hard as his glare.

"Cid's out. This parlor and Ord Mantell are now my territory." He looked at them. "But if you're looking for work, I might have use for you."

His offer made it clear he wasn't a threat. The squad holstered their weapons, but their guard was still up.

"We'll think about it." Hunter said, choosing his words carefully before they left the parlor.

                    •°•°•°•°•°•°•

"We're getting off Ord Mantell." The Sergeant said as soon as they were close to their ship. "Tech, prep the ship. The rest of us will gather supplies."

"But what about Cid?" Omega asked, her eyes wide with worry. "What did he mean when he said she was 'out'?"

"Given his tone," Tech stated. "It is a plausible assumption that Cid was either forced out or taken out."

Omega quickened her pace, turning around to face everyone. "Well, we have to find her and help her."

Before anyone could argue, the sound of someone clearing their throat came from the Marauder. "Ahem! Nice to see one of you cares."

Cid stood in the entrance of their ship, leaning against the wall. "Inside. Now."

"Great. Now she's been in our ship." Althea grumbled as they walked up. "There goes the only part of our lives she didn't have say over."

But that wasn't the worst part. Bolo and Ketch were there too, playing cards on Gonky. Althea bit back a scream. She would save it for later.

"So you boys met Roland." Cid said as the entered the ship. "He's a former client and some of crime boss Isa Durand. Roland's trying to make a name for himself by joining up with the Pykes."

"What's he doing on Ord Mantell?" Asked Hunter.

"This port's connected to multiple hyperspace routes, ideal for smuggling." Cid rubbed her clawed fingers together for emphasis. "My parlor's right in the middle of the action. Roland saw the value in it and took it." She smirked. "But we are taking it back."

"We?" Hunter asked, moving his hand in a back and forth motion.

"If I lose, you lose." The Trandoshan said with a shrug. "Don't forget how good I've been at keeping secrets."

"I believe she's threatening us." Tech said with a quick adjustment of his goggles.

"You're quick." Cid snarked.

Omega stepped forward, turning to face them. "When we needed help, we came to Cid, remember? Now she needs help. We can't just walk away."

Cid nodded along. "You tell 'em, Tiny."

Hunter let out a sigh. Between Cid's blackmail and Omega's big brown eyes, he couldn't say no. "So, what's your plan?" He asked.

Cid walked outside with a wave of her hand. A gesture commanding them to follow.

" 'Wake up, Thea.' " The medic said in a low voice, mimicking Hunter. " 'You can't sleep all day, you'll miss all the fun.' Oh, yeah. Today has been real fun, Hunter."

The Sergeant shot a glare her way. "I don't wanna hear it." 

They walked outside and followed Cid as she explained her plan. "My sources tell me that a buyer is meeting Roland tonight to aquire a shipment of spice he's storing in my back office."

"You want to disrupt his supply chain by stealing the shipment and thereby sabotaging the deal." Said Tech.

"Very good, Goggles." Cid condescendingly complemented. "When the Pykes come to collect, Roland won't be able to pay, and he'll be their problem." She came to a stop in a back alley where she moved a few crates, revealing a grate. "Start climbing, tough guys."

Once they had all reached the bottom of the rusty ladder, the squad found themselves in a dark area with several rail carts attached to the ceiling.

"What is this place?" Althea asked as she shone her light around.

"Ord Mantell's old mining tunnels." Cid explained as she climbed into a cart. "These rails run underneath the city. It's how we're sneaking into my parlor to steal the spice.

"Well, why don't we just walk in and take it?" Wrecker asked. "We can handle those guards."

"No one can know we're involved." Cid told him, her eyes flashing with a hint of fear. "Roland is one thing, but the Pykes aren't an enemy you want to make." She gestured to the cart she was in. "We'll use these carts to transport the crates of spice."

Tech climbed into the one she was in, flashing his light around. "They're not in the best shape, but I can get the motors operational."

"No. Motors are too loud." Cid said. "This is a stealth mission. You boys are good at that, right?"

A silent groan rippled through Hunter, Wrecker, Althea, and Tech. If only Cid knew.

The Trandoshan nodded, seemingly satisfied with her answer of silence. "Tiny, Goggles, Bright Eyes, you're with me."

The two teams split up into their carts, one person cranking them along by hand. They rode along in silence until they came to a large round door. They stopped their carts and Cid turned to face them.

"Now, listen up. When we pass through those doors, not a peep out of anyone. We don't want to wake the hive."

"The what?" Echo asked, his voice revealing his irritation.

"The caverns have a slight infestation problem." Cid said vaguely.

"We're not afraid of a few bugs." Wrecker chuckled.

"Well, it won't be a problem if everyone keeps their traps shut. Big guy, get the door."

At her command, Wrecker moved from his cart to the door, unlocking it and forcing it open. Once they were opened, the team made their way through the cavern. Webs coated everything, making it seem like they were inside a cocoon. Althea's skin crawled, and it certainly didn't help when Wrecker dropped his light into the webs below.

It clattered down, it's light fading as it fell further into the pit.

"What did I say?" Cid hissed.

Wrecker scoffed. "It was an accident."

A low rumble sounded, along with a faint screech. It echoed up for a few tense minutes, then stopped suddenly. Althea looked to Hunter, trusting his senses would lead them.

"Keep moving." He said, his helmet angled at the pit below. The rest of the ride was silent. Nobody wanted to wake whatever lay below.

Finally, they reached their destination. "We're here." Cid said as she stepped on to a platform that led to a ladder. "This ladder leads into my back office. Up you go."

"Without eyes on the office, how do we know Roland is not inside?" Tech asked.

Even in the dark, Cid's smirk could be seen. "I've got that covered." She pressed a button on her comm.

Tech, Hunter, and Echo climbed up into her office while Wrecker, Althea, and Omega loaded the crates they dropped.

Soon, Cid's comm flashed again. "Out of time, boys." She said.

"I'll seal the door." Echo informed them.

It wasn't long before the crates were loaded into the carts.

"That's secure enough. Let's go." Cid said in a whisper.

They made their escape as quickly and quietly as they could, but the sound of motors echoed down the tunnel.

Roland's men chased them, causing Hunter, Wrecker, and Echo to start blasting them.

"We've got incoming!" The demo man shouted.

"I said no blaster fire." Cid scolded, her voice still hushed.

"Tell that to them!" Althea said, she too joining the fight.

Hunter attacked the men in the cart behind them. Althea didn't know what he did, but I caused a loud commotion.

"If those laser brains woke the hive, we're all dead." Cid complained as she and Tech piloted the cart.

They were finally able to slow, but the sounds of faint screeches echoed up. Omega used her light to look down into the webbed pit.

"What's that sound?" Althea asked.

Omega shifted uncomfortably. "Cid, I don't like this."

All of a sudden, giant insects flew up from the pit. "Power up the engine's!" Cid said. There was no point in stealth anymore as they shot at the swarm.

Althea looked over her shoulder and saw more carts with Roland's men in them. "We've got more incoming!"

At the moment, the squad was stuck fighting the bugs and Roland's men. Althea choked down a gag as the bugs brushed past her, they're gangly legs hitting her.

"They're avoiding the light." Tech said suddenly. "Use your torches."

Althea flashed her light in a bugs face. It screeched and flew away, much to her relief. Roland's men were thrown off by the bugs, but unfortunately, so was the spice.

"Not the spice!" Cid cried.

"Forget the spice. Let's go!" Echo yelled. They made it back to the door, where Wrecker jumped off and closed it. One bug tried to fly after them, but it was crushed in the rusty metal.

As everyone caught their breath, Omega smiled. "Well, at least we got rid of the spice, right?"

Althea leaned on the railing. "Sure, kid. Sure."

                     •°•°•°•°•°•°•

"Are you sure your parlor's safe?" Omega asked as they made their way back to the said destination.

"Bolo and Ketch said the Pykes already came for Roland." Cid said. "I told you they don't take kindly to unpaid debts."

They entered the parlor, which was now littered with the bodies of Roland's men. "See?" Cid asked. "My plan worked like a charm. Even better than expected."

Footsteps sounded from the hall leading into Cid's office. Several Pykes held Roland at gunpoint, who's hands were clasped by binders.

He looked up and laid eyes on them. "That's her. She's the one you want."

One of the Pykes stepped forward to face them. "It has come to my attention that you have stolen our shipment of spice." He said. "Return it to us, and we will consider this issue resolved."

"Not sure what he's been telling you, but we don't have any spice." Cid told him, trying to play it down.

"Kill them all." The Pyke ordered.

"Wait." Hunter stepped forward, blocking Omega and Althea slightly. "We don't have the spice on us, but we know where it is."

"My patience is wearing very thin. If you know where the spice is, them you should have no problem retrieving it. Until you do, the children stay here."

All blasters trained on the Pyke, including Althea's. She refused to be a hostage.

"Not happening." Said Hunter.

"You misunderstand." The Pyke said. "This is not a negotiation."

Cid looked between the two parties. "If I may..." She said to the Pyke before turning to the squad. "You all don't realize who you're dealing with. If you don't lower your blasters, we're all gonna wish we were dead. Let me handle this." She lowered Hunter's arm, but his gaze remained fixed on the Pykes.

                         •°•°•°•

"We can't leave Omega and Thea with them." Wrecker grumbled as they walked to the Marauder. 

"We don't have a choice," said Cid. "But we know where the spice is. We'll return it, and the kids will be fine."

"The ptero-creatures we encountered in the cavern are Irlings." Tech said as he read his datapad. "They are nocturnal creatures with visual sensitivity to thermal registers. Our best chance is to strike before nightfall."

Cid nodded as she boarded the ramp. "Muscles and I will rappel down into the cavern and locate the crates. I got the kids into this mess, and I'll get them out." She seemed genuinely concerned for the girls, it almost convinced Hunter.

Almost.

                     •°•°•°•°•°•°•

Althea sat on the floor between Roland and Omega. Their hands were bound and their weapons tossed to the floor.

Since she was stuck, the yellow eyed girl decided to entertain herself. "So," she said turning to Roland. "What are you in for?"

The man sighed. "I'm not talking to you."

Althea shrugged in response.

Roland turned to her. "I can't believe you stole the spice."

Althea couldn't help but smirk. "Thought you weren't talking to me."

Roland sighed. His gaze shifted to Omega, who was staring at a blaster on the floor. "Don't try it." He warned. "They'll kill you. If your friends don't return the spice, we're all dead. That's what happens when you meddle in other people's business."

Althea raised a brow. "Us?"

"You're the one who took Cid's parlor from her." Omega added.

"Take what you want." Roland said. "That's the Durand way. It's a tatic my mother has perfected."

"So, she's a criminal too?" Omega asked.

Roland scoffed. "Ugh. You make it sound so indignified."

"That's 'cause it is." Althea said.

Roland looked at Althea. "You're... different than them." He said.

Althea was immediately put on guard. She said nothing.

"You're obviously trained." Roland continued. "And you wear their symbol, yet you sound nothing like them."

Althea hummed. She knew she didn't have the clone accent, but no one had ever commented on it before. "Yeah, well, let's just say when everything in my life fell apart, they were there to pick up the pieces."

Ruby walked across the floor, chittering in her animal way. Roland held out his hands warmly, but the lizard crawled into Omega's lap instead. Althea joined the blonde in petting the creature, a difficult task when both her hands were bound.

"Ruby doesn't take a liking to many people." Roland said aloud.

Althea chuckled. "Yeah, it's rare for someone to actually like us."

"Don't worry, Ruby." Omega said. "We'll get out of this."

                       •°•°•°•°•°•

"GET US OUT OF HERE!!!!!!!!" Wrecker shrieked over the comm.

Almost all of the crates were loaded. Cid and the demo man were coming up with the last two. Hunter stood by the cables. "Wrecker, what's going on?"

"Irlings. Lots of 'em!" Cid said.

More shrieks from Wrecker told the Sergeant it was bad. "Tech," he turned to his intelligent brother.

The pilot stood, holding the device he had been working on in his hands. "This should distract them." He threw it into the cavern. "Incoming!"

The device flashed with a blinding light, searing itself into Hunter's eyes.

Cid and Wrecker came up a few moments later. "See, Muscles?" The Trandoshan said. "That wasn't so bad."

Wrecker nodded, muttering to himself. "Yeah, I'm okay. I'm okay. Phew!"

                   •°•°•°•°•°•°•

Omega and Althea stood with their family, Ruby in the blonde's arms.

"Since the spice has been returned, the matter between us is resolved." The Pyke said. He turned back to Roland. "But not with you." He brandished a jagged blade and shoved the Devaronian's head to the ground, raising the knife.

Omega stepped forward. "Don't! He made a mistake. That's all."

Althea nodded, stepping forward. "She's right. Kill him and you'll be starting a war with Isa Durand. Do you want that heat right now? Call this a bad deal and walk away."

"We do not accept bad deals." The Pyke swung the blade, chopping off one of Roland's horns. He fell back, screaming and clutching his head in shock. "Our business is finished." The Pyke said. "It would not be wise for our paths to cross again." He held Roland's horn and walked away.

They left and Omega and Althea walked up to Roland. The ebony haired girl helped him up.

"Are you okay?" Omega asked.

Roland touched the nub that took the place of his horn. "It's a small price to pay."

Ruby whined and Omega handed her to her owner, who took her gently. "I'll be going now." Were his words of parting.

"Come on, boys." Cid said. "First round's on me." She started to walk back to her parlor.

Wrecker scoffed. "You owe us way more than that."

"Don't push your luck."

While the rest of the squad sprinted for drinks, Hunter hung back with the girls. "Why did you...stick up for him after what he did" He asked, one hand on Omega's shoulder.

The girl shrugged. "I don't know. Ruby likes him. Maybe he's not all bad."

Hunter smiled and released her, walking with them back to the parlor. He ruffled Althea's hair affectionately. The girls were proving they could handle themselves. Omega, with her pure heart, and Althea with her ability to talk them out of their situations.

Hunter couldn't be more proud.​​​​​​​

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