#Night Ambush >>>>> Night Pride

[mysticalhiss]

What if Rani was a tiger. What then

[earthtooz]

x : DON'T GO :*+ﾟ

in which: blade has always felt cold, but even more so without you.

warnings: 1.9k words, HURT/COMFORT with a sprinkle of angst, gn!reader who calls blade 'ren' once, mention of blood, ooc!vulnerable!blade, he's like a kicked puppy in this one

a/n: perhaps the most intimate piece i've wrote to date, this is nothing but pure yearning and longing on blade's behalf, and a nice fix-it fic with the most vulnerable i think blade could ever be. enjoy!!

in his new life, blade has always felt cold.

he is not spared from the constant feeling of goosebumps prickling his skin, not even for a second as the cold bites the tip of his fingers and sink their teeth into him to send shivers up his spine. but he has never felt colder than he does right now. 

your side of the bed is untouched, perfectly made, and devoid of any indication that you had been there. the blankets and mattress are cool to touch, with hardly any wrinkles in the sheets, and an ache declares itself home in blade’s chest.

the sun spills on his bare skin when he kicks the covers off, illuminating his scar-ridden chest as he gazes around the room, as if waiting for an sign that you were still here, and that he wasn’t too late. however, an immediate soreness tickles his throat that causes him to wince, serving as a reminder of the unpleasant discourse you had last night. 

it was hardly over anything of importance, but blade, a man of pride and relentlessness, had refused to back down, and you went to bed angry that night. he did too but woke regretful and cold under the covers, your warmth taken with you.

today was the day you had to leave for a mission, and although he knows you have a strict schedule to follow, he just wonders why you couldn’t have woken him up to say goodbye, especially after everything. 

he didn’t even get to say sorry or try to at least make amends. the swordsman only hopes you didn’t leave furious with him, and that you at least had something to eat before leaving.

to distract himself from the heartache, blade forgoes lying around and decides to start his day before the absence you left overwhelms him and the only thing his mind can do is think about you. 

not that he’s successful, because despite dedicating a monotonous afternoon of drilling sword techniques, the rampant thoughts about you did not decrease. rather, with each swing and sway of the cracked blade, his mind finds more and more to think about, with you at the epicentre of all of them.

it’s sometime around sunset when blade receives update on your status.

the swordsman is sat on a stone ledge, gold rays from the sun spilling on his skin as he waits for the sweat and fatigue to roll off. blade thinks of how you’d normally be seated nearby, watching him train to supply water and energy bars. although he never used to like the company or the doting, it doesn’t feel the same without you beside him, he misses you and wonders when you’ll return. 

“how long have you been here?” a raspy, female voice asks, breaking blade’s train of thoughts.

“since noon,” he responds merely. he doesn’t need to look up to see that it’s kafka talking to him.

“right. makes sense. i thought you’d be lonely since y/n’s gone.”

“need you remind me?” he huffs, voice teetering a threatening gruffness that would make ordinary people shudder, but does nothing to kafka.

“oh, spicy today, aren’t we?” she coos, ignoring the immense pressure radiating off blade effortlessly before taking a seat beside him. “what’s up? is there trouble in paradise?” a scoff comes from the swordsman. “i was only joking, did something really happen between you two?”

“none of your business.” 

kafka shrugs before her phone begins vibrating violently. when she reads the notifications, her face pulls the closest expression to concern that blade has ever seen her wear. 

“y/n got ambushed.”

his world freezes over.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

the sunlight is gentle in blade’s eyes when he wakes up.

clothes are strewn on the floor, bedsheets are half off the bed, ceramics lie in pieces along the cracks of the planks, and despite the mess blade has made of your shared space, he is the most crumpled of them all. a kaleidoscope of volcanic anger, tsunamic worry, and mountainous yearning, the only place that has remained untouched by blade’s destructive touch is your side of the bed, lest your scent disappears. 

it’s been five days since anyone has received a live update from you, only hanging on to tracking notifications of your spaceship as any indication that you were fine. for the duration of it, nothing has been able to calm him, with kafka and silver wolf needing to stun him before he could do anything brash, like running off into the infinite cosmos to find you.

elio’s promises had never felt emptier, his constant claims of how you’d return very soon turning into dust in blade’s ears because how could he hold on to hope when you are alone amongst the stars? 

his texts are left delivered, but never read. in fact, it has been five days since your contact displayed to be online, and he finds himself staring at it in case that the circle will illuminate green, that you’ll give him some sort of update on your liveliness. 

so that you’ll see how sorry he is and all he wants for you is to return home. 

he doesn’t remember when he became so dependent, but perhaps this is another cruel punishment from fate with another inconceivable price of repentance.

for someone as unforgivable and despicable as blade to love means to mutilate the universe with aftershocks that tear through boundaries of what’s possible. for a man like blade to rebel, it means that the consequences will return tenfold.

and there is no crueller damnation than tearing you away from him. 

he turns on his side, arms reaching over to where you would normally lie, and dozes off again, feeling colder than ever.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

blade wakes up a second time. the sun is no longer the thing that awakens him, but rather, the sound of footsteps that echo outside the bedroom. disgruntled and still trying to gather his bearings, he shoots awake at the sound of your door opening.

you stand on the other side.

is this a dream?

“oh,” you breathe. you sound winded, caught off guard by the sight of your lover who stares at you like a bewildered deer. “i’m sorry, i didn’t think you would be here.”

he doesn’t say anything, just merely looks at you, unnervingly unresponsive.

you look miserable. fatigue clings to your skin like a second skin, your eyes lack the brightness they usually have, and you are, evidently, very battered and bruised, blood staining your ruined clothes. 

but you are like sunlight, and blade thinks he can breathe again. 

“i guess i’ll leave,” you murmur, interrupting blade’s momentary assessment.

“don’t.”

turning back around, the swordsman is now slowly stalking towards you, seemingly teleported from the bed to halfway across the room in the blink of an eye. 

“is something wrong?” you ask and he holds back a scoff from the irony of your question. he’s the one that should be asking that, not you. 

but yes, there is something wrong; you left him alone. you went somewhere he couldn’t and then made him feel helpless because he didn’t know whether or not you were going to come back, stranded in the cosmos forever. 

stopping before you, his hands gravitate upwards with the magnetic need to touch you, to ensure that you were real and not some figment of his hazy imagination. blade raises a hesitant hand to sit on the back of your neck and the frostiness of his fingertips causes a shiver to run up your spine. gently, he presses you for a pulse and visibly gulps when he finds it, suffocating you in the tense silence that has occupied the air (you’re real, and you’re okay, delivered back to him in one piece).

then, he looks at you with the saddest expression you have ever seen him wear before engulfing you in his embrace. the stellaron hunter is hesitant with his touch, hovering around you in fear of overstepping, for blade would never forgive himself if he were to scare you off again. 

because you’re finally back where he can reach, and he never wants you to leave. 

“ren?” you pause, gently wrapping your arms around his waist and closing the gap he left, meeting him halfway. the little action floods him with endless relief. “what’s the matter?”

he shakes his head against you and his hold tightens mercilessly, squeezing all air out of your lungs. 

“you had me worried,” he confesses, no louder than a whisper because otherwise he would crack under the weight of his own words. the constant fear that has plagued him for the last few days would finally break him and he’d be in shambles in your arms, making a mess of something gorgeous with something hideous. 

so instead, he will continue simply holding onto you where you are safe. in his arms, you cannot leave, you cannot go places that danger you, and you cannot break his heart and choke him with the emptiness of your presence.

“i’m sorry,” you say, rubbing his back and he tugs you closer. “i didn’t mean to worry you, everything jus-”

“-you left without saying goodbye.”

you’re silent and guilty, but so beautiful. “i thought you didn’t want to see me. we were pretty mean to each other before i left,” you say after a second of contemplation. “i didn’t know where we stood, i wasn’t sure if you still wanted me.”

whatever is left of his heart breaks, crumbling into shambles that ring at your feet. there are a multitude of things that blade wants to say, yet no words come to fruition, to his dismay. he wants to offer you the comfort and promises you want to hear, and he wants to express the overwhelming relief he feels, but he can’t, and he curses his own inability to be heartfelt. 

instead, his grip around you tightens, like you’ll slip away otherwise and have him search for you throughout the cosmos. 

“don’t do any of that again,” he pleads instead, hoping that you’ll understand. “i beg of you.”

“okay,” you breathe. “i won’t.”

“don’t leave like that,” he tugs at your ruined shirt, grasp gentle and careful in fear of scaring you away with the intensity of his emotions that are hanging on by a thread

“i wont.” 

“please don’t go.”

“i’m here, aren’t i?”

blade sighs, nodding. you smile at him and it feels like a warmth powerful enough to drive the cold away. 

“but first, i need a bath,” you murmur, placing your hands on his chest to push him away. “please, keep your distance, i’m pretty sure i reek.”

he doesn’t say anything and clearly doesn’t listen, because instead of letting go, he simply leads you to the bathroom without ever unwrapping his arms. soon, the bath begins to run, and the sound of water streaming down ceramic echoes off the tiles, but the warmth of your laughter and tired words overpower it. blade sits at the edge, nothing but an oversized shadow that watches as you relax in the water, frowning when he catches the frequent bruise or fresh scar. 

afterwards, you both stumble onto the bed (careful to avoid the mess that blade as made, which you scolded him for, and he listened dejectedly before promising to clean it all up), and blade reaches over to your side, chest warming when he finds your figure to tug close. 

you fall asleep as soon as your head hit the pillow. your lover, on the other hand, stays awake for a few moments longer, simply trying to commit you to memory. 

“don’t go,” he repeats, tugging at your shirt as the evenness of your heartbeat lulls him to sleep.

he doesn’t feel cold anymore. 

© EARTHTOOZ 2023, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.

[novaursa]

I’ve seen so many stories about Cregan and y/n immediately falling in love and living happily- but what if it’s the opposite? What if y/n is pissed she was traded like a brood mare to a brute from the North? Sure, the man is brave and smart and handsome, but he’s not what she had in mind for her partner. She might even tell Jace to marry Cregan himself, if he wishes to forge that bond so much. (Unfortunately, there’s no one else available, so the wedding goes as planned).

Credit to Cregan- he realizes immediately she is not happy with the arrangement, and doesn’t force her to consummate.

They continue to butt heads and snap at each other for several months (which doesn’t stop her from giving brilliant ideas on how to stock up for the winter and spoiling Rickon though, which makes Cregan suffer even more, because he is yearning for her). Cregan has fallen for her back in Kings landing, but if she doesn’t want him… so be it, at least Rickon will have a good mother.

Queue in an incident where Cregan gets hurt. Might be a wilding ambush and he is injured, or he just gets a sickness and starts running a fever. And she spends all nights with him, tending to him and whispering prayers in Valyrian because she realizes she absolutely cannot stand the thought of losing him.

OR,

They both grow more and more frustrated because both want each other but don’t know how to approach it since it all went wrong from the start. Plus, both are stubborn and prideful. Until one evening they just can’t stop fighting about some stupid thing, and she “accidentally” ends up pulling him into an angry kiss to shut him up. Of course, it turns into a hot angry sex.

(Bonus point if she rides a dragon and all this time her dragon is absolutely enamored with Cregan- to his horror, maybe even boops him couple of times but our poor Lord thinks it wants to eat him 😭)

I just want some tension and conflict before they make up 🤌 (I love vanilla but I need some spice every now and then)

I can do that. But I'll have to revisit this after my current requests are closed and all done.

I'm doing only short requests that are about 1000 words long in this round. This is a brilliant idea, but it needs way more development to do it justice. I can do it in two long parts (each being at least 5000 words, but it will probably be more).

You'll be tagged once the first part has been posted. 🙂

[tojigasm]

I can't be the only one who's thought about DilfJake and spanking. The man is for discipline and would not have a problem with correcting his tiny human's behavior.

I am going rather insane for this ideer cus he would be concerned with keeping you safe and you just can't help yourself from acting on last minute decisions sometimes and he's just a stressed out dad trying to keep everyone safe!!

Jake's got you bent over his big lap, bottom already raw from the heat of his palm. You'd been bed. very, very bad. Ignoring his directions during an ambush was a big 'no, no' and all though you meant well, it didn't take away from the fact that you'd deliberately went against what he'd expected from you.

"Gonna keep actin' like a spoiled brat, m'gonna treat ya like one." his voice is laced with heat as he brings a hand down to your bottom again, giving you no time to adjust before he's spanking you again.

You can tell he's holding back from actually hurting you, not placing the entirety of his palm onto you but the sting is still there, and you'll defiently have bruises littered over your thighs and plush cheeks in the morning.

Jake slaps his hand down onto your bottom again, using his other hand to grab your jaw, pulling your head up when you try to hide in the crook of your arms.

"What are you not gonna do?" he leans over to look at your flushed expression - your cheeks are soaked in tears and your hair's stuck to your forehead. You can only sob and he squeezes the fat of your ass, the burn from his hits coming back in full. "What are you not gonna fuckin' do?" he asks again through clenched teeth.

"Ignore your orders, daddy" you choke through a broken sob.

He drops your jaw roughly, "fuckin' ridiculous," he mutters, slapping his hand onto your ass again.

You're so small beneath him he nearly caves at your small sobs and mewls, stroking a hand over your sensitive skin to soothe the ache. Slowly, he makes his way to your cunt, thrusting a finger into your soaked heat before bringing a hit down to your bottom.

This time you moan at the touch, the pleasure of his digits stretching your gummy walls and the sting of his hand pressed into the raw skin of your ass forces you to kick your legs with a cry.

"Hmmph!" you bite into the skin of your arm, earning another strike to your thighs.

"Daddy can do this all night, stop actin' like a fuckin' brat." Jake scolds from above you. And he's so mean, squeezing the fat of your ass again when you sob.

"M'not," you sniffle, too ashamed to look back at him.

"Oh, but you were," Jake's tone drops and you know a lecture's coming, by the way he stops his hand on your lower back, "what made you think for a second that directly disobeying my orders – orders, I have to keep you safe, mind you, would ever be acceptable?" And you know the question is not rhetorical.

Gathering up your pride, you mumble into the soft of your arm and Jake inhales from behind you, "look at me when I'm talking to you."

It's enough to have to turning in an instant, teary-eyes meeting his sharp ones, "I was being reckless, m'sorry." Sniffling, you wipe your nose with the back of your hand before you're blown out sobbing. "M'so, so sorry, daddy. I should've listened to you and I shouldn't have disobeyed your orders because i could've gotten hurt and it was selfish of me and i–"

He cuts you off by pulling you to sit on his lap, his arms dwarfing your size tenfold when he cups a large hand to your head, tucking you into his chest.

You're heaving with sobs, overstimulated and tired from the ambush and paired with Jake's anger and sting on your bottom, you can't focus enough to calm down.

Jake strokes a hand up and down your back softly, soothing you, "honey, calm down," he kisses the top of your head, "you're okay, m'not mad at you."

Pulling back, you look up at him and he strokes a hand over your cheek, kissing the tip of your nose. "You've had enough, m'not mad at you." He scoots you closer to him by the hips, cautious of your bottom, "but that doesn't mean you can go around doing that shit again. You could've died, sweetheart."

You nod at that, eyes drifting to your hands in your own lap, "m'sorry–"

"What did I tell you." Jake scolds softly.

Immediately, you look back up, apologizing once more, "I won't do that again, if I think of a plan that might work, I'll ask you beforehand."

Jake's eyes fall shut at that as he nods. Sighing shakily, he takes you into his arms, tucking your head under his chin, "I cannot lose you, baby."

He pulls back, cupping your cheeks, "you understand me?" And you nod, letting him guide you under his chin again.

He doesn't tell you much about his past or his family since you've become a part of his life. You knew of his mate Neytiri and the complexity of his relationship with her and how you fit in. You knew of his children, Lo'ak, Kiri, and Tuk and the stray, Spider. But he hadn't told you much about the oldest, Netyam, who you'd assumed passed away some time ago.

A part of you harbored the guilt you felt for possibly retraumatizing him in the form of your own reckless action while another part of you was a lot more understanding of his fear. So, you place your hand at his heart and Jake's immediately cupping your small one with his larger one, keeping it pressed into his striped skin.

That night, when the two of you fall asleep, Jake holds you to his chest and you spend a few soft moments looking over his features. Imagining what you'd look like if you had an avatar or had been born na'vi.

"Why are you staring at daddy?" Jake asks, peeking an eye open to look you over. You don't answer, opting to just smile at him. Jake gives you a small smile back, stroking your back gently, "Wanna introduce you to Neytiri n'my kids soon."

A strike of anxiety settles into your core at that, "r-really?"

Jake nods, already falling back asleep, "now go to bed."

It was much harder to fall asleep that night.

[itstheendofthegoddamnworld]

Swallowed Whole by The Flame (Messmer the Impaler x Tarnished! Reader) 8

MASTERLIST

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Summary: The storehouse calls to you, your path awaits.

A/N: I've been ill for a while, so this is coming out when I feel better! Sorry for the delay! A promise is a promise! More interactions!

A03 link

-

Chapter 8: The Encounter

The rest of your day is spent avoiding Messmer as best as you can, despite the heavy enforcement of soldiers who seem to follow your every move. It comes to you with great unease and irritation, but you're thankful when you've eaten supper and you can be to yourself for the rest of the evening,

Your thoughts are spent thinking about the specimen storehouse and where your heart lies in the books you could be reading. It comes with great restraint not to sneak out and go there in the dead of night, but you promise yourself you would rather worm your way through befriending Ansbach better to gain some further insight.

You go to sleep slightly content with your goals, hoping you can go through with them easily.

Ansbach is who you go to seek out after breaking your fast, dressing simply in your usual garbs before you find him in his usual spot. You strike up a conversation with him for a bit before you know his suspicions are up, knowing you're up to no good.

"You know, Lord Messmer will not be too pleased in knowing you're not where you are."

"How so? He's not looking for me, he's not sought me out." You shrug, though you cannot help but eye the red-cladded knight who loiters close by. He's aware of your presence down here, but he is allowing it for some reason. Could it be some ploy to think he's fine with it all?

"I think his Lord is so caught up in worrying about me, he should be addressing the real issue." You continue, "Any news of Miquella? Or even Lady Leda?"

"It seems Leda has found the gift you left." Ansbach addressed plainly, "What she wishes to do to deal with our betrayals, I am still left in the dark of. I have no doubt she will be finding some way to create an ambush."

"Best be on our best behaviour then." You jest, but Ansbach grunts in response. Why must everyone be so grumpy in this Keep, no, these lands? You remember fellow allies like the kindly girl Roderika, the polite sorcerer Rogier, and Boc your seamster - even in the coldness and darkness of the world, they still found kindness that could be shared with strangers.

Two days pass since your conversation with Ansbach, and despite lingering for far too long in the storehouse staring at the endless shelves, you cannot finally help the urge that calls to you.

Only dressed in a nightgown and dressing gown, its green silk robes still feel foreign on your skin. You scamper to the door of your chambers barefoot, the cold wooden floor cool against your skin as you slowly pull the door open. Looking to see no one there, you gather yourself, shutting the door behind you as darkness engulfs you in the small tower.

Feeling along the walls as your aid, you trek downwards, careful to keep your pacing quiet.

Quick as a mouse, sharp as a cat. You tell yourself as you avoid what you think are soldiers who are posted along the lower grounds, patrolling as they go.

You stick to the shadows as best as you can, passing the infirmary as you near the steps heading down into the dimly lit storehouse. Your smile broads, victory is on the horizon as you continue to sneak before you find yourself in endless bookshelves. 

Finding a small candle and taking it along with you, you pace down the bookcases until you cannot find Sir Ansbach in his usual spot. Instead of him, you find the endless books you have been dying to open since you last spoke with him.

You feel a sense of pride wash over you, eagerly picking up the first book with too much force that it knocks the tower to the ground, some books clatter open with a loud crash as you freeze, assessing your situation before turning back to continue with the pages.

You find books on the history of the lands, of the Hornsent, the war and tyranny that seem to address in length of Messmer's battles, but you work your way to find one that is of great interest to you—the History of Queen Marika and the Golden Order.

It's when your foolishness and brashness bring you to be unaware for a moment, too engrossed in what's around you, that when you try to reach for a book on the shelf that is too high for you, a voice hisses out to you in the darkness.

"Thou art rather brazen at which hour thee sneaketh."

You almost scream out, but catch yourself, your voice being stuck in your throat as you turn to who stands behind you.

You should've known you were being followed, but nothing had prepared you to finally come face to face with the redhead. You had to admit, it was rather haunting how someone so tall as he was able to move around with ease of not disrupting noise. Despite the darkness, your candle caught a glimpse of his red hair, almost blending in with the bookcases. He appears to you how an apparition would, his form languid and swaying as if he is uncertain as to what your next moves shall be. He has a ghost-like quality that only he could carry in a Keep so full of others. He instead thrives in the abyss, in the dampened walls and cold grey spots. You wonder what he carries, the stoicism that he was born with, would it be broken if he finally saw his mother again? And just how long had it been since he last saw her?

"Firstly thee fight mine own men liketh a drunken in a tavern." He spouts. "Next I findeth thee sneaking off to mine own library. Bid me, where shalt I findeth thee next? Sneaking wine into thy chambers?"

"Are you taking note of everywhere I go?" You bemoaned. "If I had known better, it seems you enjoy stalking me."

The glare he sends you is not enough to make you cower, rather you swear you see his cheeks redden at your words. He averts his eye from you, but he keeps his mood sour. "Bid me, art thee going to starteth destroying mine own books?"

You stare at him incredulously, "I read, you know?"

It's his time to gawk, his snakes look between one another before looking up to their master, the three staring as if they are silently communicating. You can't help but feel like the fool at this moment.

Messmer surprises you as if he is a grumpy unapproachable cat, slowly inching his way towards you, his movement slow, hesitant. There is bewilderment present in his features as he whispers, "Thee... read?"

"Yes," Your words are mixed with a weary laugh that has been bubbling inside your throat, "you believe I'm ready to tear your books apart like a beast?"

He doesn't answer that, rather he's quiet, maybe from embarrassment for assuming.

"Look-" you begin to walk closer towards him, not even getting as close as you predicted before something is face to face with you, squaring off. You're startled back, keeping eye contact with one of the serpents that had unwound itself around Messmer's torso to stare down at you. You never realised even up close how vivid its scales were, bright and a brilliant crimson hue. 

You also realise the difference between both serpents: one had startling blue-green eyes, the other matching Messmer's. One is slightly bigger, the other slimmer and longer. You cannot help but feel inquisitive by the one inches away from your face, it also doesn't move as it inspects you. Instinctively, you hold a hand out, somewhat frightful it could change its mind and latch its jaws around your hand, but rather than that, it takes in your scent, its long tongue flickers up your finger before you gingerly stroke along its nose once it has investigated you enough.

"Woah," you marvel in wonder, "they are beautiful." Messmer seems stiff and unresponsive, watching but not daring to move. You assume he's in two minds: fight you off his serpents or allow you to continue, however, you're still hesitant you've overstepped.

His skin even ashen holds a light blush to his face, and it finally dawns on you. He can sense what the snakes feel, for his golden eye is sharp and wide in shock. He does not recoil from you, but he finally does seem to come back from whatever trance he's in, nodding in agreement with your statement. 

"Do they have names?" You ponder aloud.

Messmer's voice is soft as he points to the one with blue eyes, "Fos," he points to the other, "Eos."

It is Fos who turns from you to look up to Messmer, almost pleased to be finally formally introduced, which brings a smile to your face. To think, these serpents have their personalities and thoughts, working independently from their master if they wished.

You realise you need to say more so it does not fill the air with awkwardness, "You asked if I read?"

"I did."

"I do because I wish to learn," you answer, "Not only of these lands but of the one I have long forgotten. I am Tarnished, yes, but I also had a life before, one I have not remembered in a long time. If I am to defeat Miquella and know of his plans, I must learn more of what I'm up against."

Messmer is silent as he takes them in, his face stoic and cold but his eye is darting across your face, over the books surrounding you. It is only then that he sighs heavily. "Very well. If it is true t' is what thee needeth, it shalt be provided." The smile that grows on your face as you hear his words, "However, thee shall not seeketh this inf'rmation without mine own aid. Nor shall I allow thee to be in the storehouse alone."

A fair agreement. You think to yourself, soaking in his deal. "Deal?" You are the one to hold your hand out to him, an olive branch of peace. He stares at your hand then your face, slowly reaching out, his large clawed hand warm as you predicted, swallowing yours in the softness of his skin. "Deal."

It feels like a long time before one of you remembers to pull away, your hand feels extra cold away from his heat, the power he exudes. You go pick up the book you wished to read, but Messmer is quick to add, "T'is yours to read," his voice is a gentle whisper in the coldness of the night, "if it keeps thee from fighting mine own men."

It dawns on you, that his tone is not dour when he tells you that, there is a tinge of humour laced within him when he wants to be droll. "Now, that I don't know I can keep as a promise, Lord Messmer."

-

A/N: So, I wanted the serpent names to be cute and matching. Fun fact: Fos means light and Eos means dawn but also is the personification of dawn🥺

[moonbaby26]

Title: Lovers

(Chapter 3 of Doflamingo’s Marine Series)

*Crossposted to AO3 Here*

Reader/(Y/N) Type: cis female marine

Chapter Pairings: Doflamingo x Reader is primary, Aokiji/Kuzan x Reader is secondary, Smoker x Reader is in the past

Chapter Warnings: language, masturbation (male and female), phone sex, breeding kink, binge drinking

Chapter Synopsis: After surviving your ordeal with Doflamingo at the Sabaody auction house, you finally get to return to Marineford that evening. Only to find yourself out with Kuzan and friends for an awkward night at the bar. But even then, Doflamingo isn’t done with you yet.

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4

————————————

————————————

Twice now Doflamingo had lost his composure with you. He was sure it’d seemed senseless, obsessive even to you. Explosions of violence mixed with that almost animalistic need to claim your body beneath his own.

But if you hadn’t wanted his attention, you never should have made your home on the one marine’s ship that had ever gotten the furthest beneath his skin.

Even now as he stood, still leaned against Disco’s desk while intently watching you redress, this was far from a recent attraction.

He’d known who you were for years now. The little stray that Tsuru had picked up in the North Blue somewhere along the way while pursuing him.

Of course, you’d still been as weak as a kitten in comparison to him at first, even with a little haki at your command. But a headache then blossoming for his soldiers as you’d clearly thrived under Tsuru’s specific brand of mothering. And you still had yet to hit your own power ceiling, noticeably improving year after year which was the truer danger.

You were a lioness in the making. One who he now had the privilege of either furthering the potential of, or extinguishing entirely. Because at least for now, you were still caught between what you’d been and what you could be.

But he appreciated how quickly you recovered from defeat as well. Your posture already looking strong again, head held confidently with that innate pride that couldn’t be taught.

It was almost elegant then, this poise within you that conflicted with your sailor’s tongue and brawler’s spirit. The contrast making him feel a little amorous all over again as he moved forward while you’d been putting on that long marine coat.

Your eyes flitted to him cautiously as he closed that distance in only a few steps. But you still didn’t stop his hands as they met your collar.

A false chivalry, just another excuse to touch you really as he then buttoned the very top of your coat enough for the collar to cover some of your fresh bruises.

Some, but not all. The marks from his fingertips still painted your jaw. Where he’d first grabbed you in ambush from the rafters.

It’d been that much pressure from his hand even as he’d kissed you earlier in that initial attack. Because in actuality he’d wanted to rip that smile right off your face, and maybe your throat along with it. Your smile that had emerged as you’d flirted with Aokiji.

You’d denied renewed need for the admiral. But Doflamingo knew what he’d seen. That expression was unmistakable. 

And he never wanted to see it on you again, unless it was for him alone of course. Which was disconcerting how quickly this had consumed his thoughts, yet not fully surprising.

The warlord was a man that didn’t take half measures in anything. When he truly wanted someone, man or woman, there was no holding back. He would pursue you as thoroughly as he desired to and for as long as he chose to. Never a day less.

This was his right as a god still trapped among this hellscape of insects of course. He could have whoever he wanted.

But he knew the risks as well. Disco and his men wouldn’t be saying a word of what he’d done to you this morning. Because there’d be no pieces left of them for anyone to find if they did.

But the slaves might talk once their initial shock had dissipated. And anyone with eyes may question your visible injuries. You were too strong to have struggled against just any low level lackey to take those hits. 

Yet part of him wanted that to be questioned. Doflamingo wanted Aokiji to see these marks and ask you why. He wanted that other man to know that you were no longer free for the taking, even if it wasn’t clear who had claimed you now. That was the primary reason he’d excused you to see the admiral tonight after all. You wouldn’t confess in full to your friends regardless, he trusted that too.

Not because he thought you were actually loyal to him yet, but because you were too selfish to jeopardize your own career. Even if a warlord was technically an ally to the marines by way of special government contract, morally your friends would never appreciate you willfully bedding a pirate he was sure.

And it would be willfully again. He had meant it when he’d said he wanted you to stay a while with him. He’d make sure that Vergo approved shore leave for you at least for a few days when this had had a little time to blow over.

It still had to be before Tsuru returned though. Because the difficulty would increase exponentially then. He tried not to think of that right now actually. 

A battle for another day.

“I’ll do the talking out there. But I expect you to keep your part of the deal, woman.” He reminded you a bit severely regardless.

But even now, your eyes were still on his red glasses as Doflamingo found himself smirking down at you.

He would still have to commend Vergo for the effort in getting you here. The reason anything had gone awry at all was only because of your poor choice to overplay your hand and antagonize him with Aokiji.

“I’ll contact you later to confirm. Once things have settled a little more. And I’ll let you know what days to ask for.” That was the last instruction Doflamingo then gave you in private before walking out the door.

He made sure to exit first too, even those little movements meaning something as you were only allowed to walk out behind him as a good subordinate should.

But he could train you in all these unspoken rules in time he was sure.

Now, back out in the cage area, the fear from everyone else was palpable. Especially as he’d quickly addressed them all as the roaches that they really were to him.

“Listen up, trash!” He also grouped Disco and his men in with that moniker of course. “If you really don’t recognize this handsome face from the previous world’s most wanted lists, my name is Donquixote Doflamingo. Royal Shichibukai and coincidentally, also the new owner of this shithole we now stand within.”

But even then as everyone else squirmed, the warlord was hyperaware of you and your calm stance. You there at his side with your arms crossed. Irritated a bit at his theatrics, yet you also could have hung back to be literally anywhere else in the cage area. But here you were right beside him.

And fuck, if he didn’t still like that proximity too. It felt like somewhere you should be, on leash and at his heel. Yet he did still step slightly forward, keeping you to his side but just subtly behind him.

He alone was the master here after all, even as he put credit to your own reputation. “But this marine here is also a name I’m demanding you to remember. Captain (Y/N) from marine HQ. Because it’s only her that you have to thank for every single one of you walking free today.”

You really weren’t sure about your name coming out of his mouth so publicly that way though. His right eye caught that slight frown from you that told him so even in his peripheral vision. 

Disco’s men about gasped like idiots all over again naturally, while the slaves barely looked up. Of course they didn’t yet trust that this wasn’t all some colossal joke.

“Because after some negotiations-” It was a wonder he could actually say that with a straight face himself. It wasn’t fully a lie though. Of course you’d negotiated, but without speaking. He’d gagged you so that you wouldn’t say anything he didn’t want Disco to know.

But you didn’t need to speak for your body to do the talking for you.

“The captain has brought to my attention enough infractions and lapses against current World Government regulations that all inventory here is now under voided purchase contract.” 

He did glower to the employees specifically then. “So open the cage and let them walk. Now that this is under new management though, we won’t be repeating your mistakes again.” Doflamingo grunted next, still entirely acting as if this loss of the slaves hadn’t been his own idea just minutes earlier.

He could convincingly play pretend when he needed to. Just as during Disco’s first whining phone call this morning. When Doflamingo had acted annoyed as if he wasn’t already sunning casually on the auction house roof waiting for that exact call via mini transponder snail. It’d been simple enough to slip right inside through the windows soon after.

Disco had been the only one completely in the dark. Vergo had picked the time and place. Doflamingo had only had to be ready. 

And the warlord did hang around now while you called Vergo yourself to ask for backup in escorting out the slaves.

It was funny to listen in on really. Vergo having to continue the game, and doing it so well. As if his true lord and master wasn’t still standing right beside you, them both having planned this days earlier.

Of course, actually freeing any slaves was a true surprise. But Vergo would never question any choices his master made. No matter how unexpected.

And as Vergo confirmed to you that he was on his way, Doflamingo waited for this rare chance to see an old friend face to face.

But it wasn’t a fully uneventful wait. He was still watching you of course to pass the time. Analyzing everything as you had entered the cage then to free that merboy yourself once you knew reinforcements were imminent. 

And it did become clear that Aokiji hadn’t been overselling that particular weakness in you at all. Because you really did care about brats didn’t you?

He watched how easily you were able to talk to the boy. You being the same woman he knew had beaten information out of his own foot soldiers more than once, now just smiling and on your knees then while you got the skittish creature to drop its guard.

In fact, in a very short time the boy was clutching your neck, wishing to be carried. Not so different than when Baby 5 had used to hold to his own leg as he walked his family away from a fresh kill site. 

He oddly considered then if you’d ever be impressed with his own children. Could he use them against you? Buffalo, Baby 5, Monet, Sugar, or Dellinger. Perhaps more like younger siblings in truth. But he’d had a heavy hand in raising them too he’d say. 

Only one of his six “kids” had been a disappointment that left the family actually. And that wasn’t too bad of odds now was it?

Even Law may come back to the fold someday though. The Heart seat still sat empty as Doflamingo had at least hoped as much.

“It’s okay.” He heard you coo then however, carrying that boy now, one arm around the back and another supporting his tail.

Quite motherly in your attentions really as Doflamingo chuckled before he could stop himself. Because it really was an interesting parallel too wasn’t it?

Tsuru was your mentor. But he wondered if she’d ever told you the truth in where his and her complicated relationship had really started.

He’d only been a child himself when he’d first met that woman. And things had almost gone an entirely different way. Not that he thought he would have ended up changing his final ambitions of course. But the path to get there would have altered substantially. She’d wanted to make a marine out of him. Not at first. But by the end when it was already far too late.

‘Save him’ in principle at least. Obviously that was much the same strategy she’d later used on you, except without anyone to stop her then. You hadn’t had a Trebol in your life to steer you so violently elsewhere.

But as Doflamingo kept watching you interact with the merboy, his thoughts did begin to wander even further.

Dellinger was already eight now. The current youngest in his crew. So it had been a while since they’d recruited any fresh blood like that. Obviously it made huge differences in outcomes, training loyalty into a child, versus adults who already had their own motives and ambitions.

And if he was being honest, Law might never be in his grasp again. Rosinante had made sure of that. Fucking his own brother over so hard as a parting gift back then. Something that still made Doflamingo’s blood boil if he ever thought of it for even more than a moment. Because he’d never been that hurt before or since by someone he should have been able to trust with his life.

His own brother.

But regardless, what was done was done. And how could he really not consider all options when you presented this fresh opportunity?

If Law truly refused to step up and be his new Heart…why not just make another Law? One with the actual blood of the gods this time, or at least a demigod anyway to be specific.

The process to do so would surely be pleasurable enough for him at least. 

You may disagree nine months later of course. 

His resulting smirk must have been quite nasty then. Enough so that he saw you glance to him warily, as if concerned he was about to start another fight.

“It’s nothing,” He grinned back at you. “Just thinking.”

————————————

“Good work, Captain.” Demon Bamboo Vergo was actually commending you. While wide eyed rookies now milled about everywhere once your temporary crew had arrived. The commotion had now moved outside the auction house. All of you spread out in small groups standing in the grass.

“Yes, sir.” You answered reflexively, though the right to celebrate that praise remained elusive. Even as you could see those women who wouldn’t even look at you before now broken down in tears of relief.

The rookies were assuring them over and over that they were finally safe. They’d be taken to Marineford directly and to the infirmary for health checks. They would stay protected on base until their families could be contacted and reunited with them.

Everyone kept complimenting you actually. You’d already heard the “hero” word tossed around more than once. 

But the warlord was still here, right beside you and Vergo. Still goddamn smiling too, making it clear how hollow of a victory this really was.

“Warlord Donquixote Doflamingo, I will need a statement from you as well.” Vergo commented. “I’ll take it down in my notebook of course.”

And as Vergo seemed to look around in mild confusion, it was actually Doflamingo that spoke. “Do you carry a notebook? You didn’t come over with one, Vice Admiral.”

“You’re right. I don’t have a notebook.” Vergo answered, still sounding puzzled.

Good lord. You looked up in new confusion of your own. 

“Captain, be a dear and go find your commanding officer something to take down my statement. We’ll wait.” Doflamingo said with a grin, seeming all too pleased all over again.

You glanced briefly to Vergo, and when seeing that he wasn’t going to say anything to defend you, you walked off in annoyance to do as asked.

———————————

“I suppose I’m expected to not let a warlord speak down to one of my subordinates.” Vergo only commented rather deadpan when you were far enough away again. No other marines were now in earshot.

“Yeah, you’re not.” Doflamingo agreed. But he adjusted his red glasses, keeping his voice reasonably quiet all the same as he smiled one of his rarest kinds, a genuine one. They wouldn’t have long. “It’s good to see you, partner.”

“Yes. It’s been a while, Doffy.” Vergo’s voice changed just slightly too, much more familiar. Like one brother speaking to another really, despite the power only going one way between them. “Things still progressing well in Dressrosa?”

“I’m here aren’t I?” Doflamingo answered with some satisfaction. “It’s getting easier every day. The dwarves started cooperating far better once we got a hold of their princess.”

“It’s good you can finally depend on the other officers enough to travel more freely again.” 

“Yeah.” It really had been so long since the two of them had been together. It was unfortunate that their conversation had to be this short as Doflamingo went back to the matter at hand a few moments after. “So what do you think of her, Vergo?”

But his subordinate didn’t mind the brevity. He was here to serve as always. “She can operate on her own. But I can tell she’s too used to Tsuru’s rules. She seeks out direction and validation. She wants to be told what she’s allowed to do. Though that works in your favor somewhat I’d think.”

“To a degree. But she really pissed me off this morning. You learn anything else about her and Aokiji?”

“They were having breakfast together not long after dawn. I don’t know if they arrived to the mess hall together. But I could feel his haki change just from surprising him by interrupting. I would say he’s protective of her at least.”

“Clearly.” Doflamingo’s smile had faded at this additional tidbit of info. “But listen. I told her she can go out with him tonight. So don’t interfere anymore for now unless I tell you to.”

Vergo turned his head to look at his boss with just the slightest question.

“I know. It’s the opposite of what I told you a few days ago. I’m still not wanting them too close. But I need proof too. If he’s going to be a real problem or not. I want to see what happens.”

“Of course. As you wish, Doffy.” It’s not as if it really mattered. Doflamingo’s word was the only law. Motive had no real bearing.

“And she’s going to put in a request for time off at some point. Make sure that gets approved. She’ll be staying with me a few days at the Sabaody house.”

“Alright.” Vergo agreed.

And for a moment they were both silent. You had indeed found a notepad and pen and were heading back their way.

So there was only just the shortest time left if Doflamingo was going to get this off his chest to one of the handful of people he truly still trusted in this world. And it came out so plainly as his hands tightened within his pockets. 

“I like her, Vergo.”

“I can tell.” The other man answered so immediately, it left no question of how obvious this already was to those few that understood the Heavenly Demon.

But then that was it. The charade was back on as Vergo looked to you as you closed in. “Captain, please write the statement as dictated.” He instructed to you.

You looked less than thrilled for the abrupt secretary work, yet said nothing but, “Yes, sir.” Holding the notepad in one hand and the pen in the other expectantly.

The warlord leaned down towards you with a wicked smile too, hands still in his pockets. He’d get a whole lot less work done if you were the view in his office every day.

But he did give his statement to you then, easily switching gears to communicate in the legalese he knew the world government would require. Basically saying a lot while still saying so little. And admitting no personal wrongdoing of his own of course. He blamed it all on the previous ownership, and Disco’s incompetence as well.

He watched your rushed handwriting, amused as you were forced to keep up.

And when he was done, he had to add the flourish of an intentionally pretentious sounding. “Dictated, but not read.” But also the final bait to you as he looked directly into your eyes while requesting that final sarcastic signature, “Faithfully yours, Donquixote Doflamingo.”

You refused to be flustered in front of Vergo though, at least outwardly. Just handing the paper and pen to the Vice Admiral next for him to sign as witness.

“Well, it’s been fun. Enjoy filing that with Sengoku, sailors.” Doflamingo straightened up again then, seeing that there was no more real interaction to be had.

And he walked away at last, the other marines parting easily for him as he loomed over the majority of them in just height alone. He’d be in touch with both you and Vergo soon enough however. 

He’d traded his profits in the Charybdis war for you already hadn’t he by pulling out if it? And now these multiple slaves let go all just for one of you.

You were absolutely an investment by this point. Both in time, money, and mental energy.

Would it pay off?

Who the fuck knew. But it’d be entertaining at minimum to see how far this ship could sail.

———————————

By the time you’d finally gotten back to your quarters at Marineford, the sun had already set. And you were still hurting pretty badly to be true. But you were absolutely the talk of your peers, as you had been nearly all day now.

The word had gotten back from all the rookies off Vergo’s ship about how you’d led the evacuation of the “Employment Office” on Sabaody after finding some kind of violations there. The former slaves had been transported to Marineford at your and Vergo’s request, and then to the infirmary.

Their families were being contacted and they would be reunited with them as soon as feasible. And the merboy that had somewhat started it all in your mind had been the sweetest damn thing too once freed. You’d carried him yourself most the way as he’d still been so skittish of all your male colleagues. No doubt because they more resembled the slavers that had initially netted him.

It was definitely a team effort as always though. Once back on base, Aokiji had used his contacts to get approval for a coated marine ship to escort the boy back to Fish-Man Island this very same evening. And Hina had volunteered to help there too actually. Her going with that ship tonight to be someone you could trust, and another woman that the child wouldn’t fully fear as you’d gotten back to the barracks to shower and change when your own shift was over.

Your thighs were badly bruised, ribs and chest too from being slammed against Disco’s desk. You didn’t normally wear pants, but you had to tonight. Plus a turtle neck shirt to cover up Doflamingo’s bites across your throat. 

You’d still had to spend some extra time at the mirror too though. Trying to add concealer and foundation powder over the bruises still on your jawline that the turtle neck couldn’t reach. Marks from Doflamingo’s fingertips when he’d first whipped your head back and squeezed there in his initial ambush.

And this was such a dichotomy still. Being talked about like a real hero of the moment, even as you hid the majority of the abuse you’d really exchanged for those false accolades.

When you were ready in these civilian clothes though, you had just been opening the door to go into the hallway as you startled.

Aokiji, or Kuzan really as he was actually now in black slacks and a dress shirt himself, was standing right there in front of you. He’d been about to knock when you’d flung the door open.

“Holy crap,” You thwacked him once in the abdomen in retaliation for the scare. “Don’t do that!”

He backed up one large step, but you could see the smile he was trying to hold back. “Well who did you think I was? I told you I’d meet you.”

“I thought you meant outside!” You retorted.

And even as you stepped out of your quarters to join him in the hallway, other sailors were walking through. A girl you only barely knew actually winked at you as she skirted behind Kuzan’s tall frame in her way.

He didn’t see what came next though as she looked back and mouthed to you.

Lucky!

They thought he was your date of course. And you didn’t know, maybe friends could go on dates? He had mentioned that a couple more of his friends who had just made port tonight would be joining you anyway. It’s not like it’d just be the two of you.

———————————

Marineford was more than just a marine base of course. There was a whole other section just devoted to civilian contractors, the families of other marines, and those slices of life that were necessary to still be a self sufficient island. Stores, restaurants, and even a dance hall to name a few things. Though you prayed this romp would not end up anywhere with dancing involved. Your body just wouldn’t be able to deal with that right now.

You’d kept at Kuzan’s side though. There were little shuttles that ran sailors and civilians from all parts of the island. But there was still a lot of walking to be had regardless.

“Full moon.” He commented then, glancing skyward in brief appreciation of that nighttime view as you and he had cut through another side street. Just at the right angle to now see that white orb framed over a fountain at the nearby intersection.

“Bad night to be a Mink.” You yawned without meaning to.

He looked at you as he quipped back. “Or worse to be the victim of a Mink?” 

Yet you saw his eyebrow raise at the tired look you still gave in return. 

“You going to make it there, Captain?” He asked.

“I’m fine,” You lied. Though in all honesty it was more the mental drain that was worse. You fought strong pirates, bandits, and whoever else all the time. This wouldn’t be the first or last time that you’d be getting over injuries. It was just everything else that had gone off the rails now. You had no idea what to expect anymore.

“You know…” Kuzan said then, still glancing at the sky as a darker cloud had begun moving over the bright moon. “Master Zephyr used to tell us that the only marines who publicly showed their exhaustion were either the lazy ones-“ He smiled with some nostalgia there. “He meant me of course.” But then he looked back to you. “Or the ones who were among comrades that they felt safe enough to drop their guard with.”

You paused, looking up at him as the two of you now stood near that decorative fountain at the meeting of these streets. 

Of course he wanted you to open up a little more didn’t he? He knew there was something going on with you. But as much as that realization of him trying to figure it out should have stressed you further, somehow you still smiled at him. “You’re so corny sometimes.”

He gave you a look that said he’d been told that more than once too before sighing. “And you’re still as hard headed as they come.”

You slid closer to his side a little, bumping him with your shoulder somewhat playfully before starting to walk on.

“Buy me a drink. Or three. And then we can talk about the moon and the stars all you want, Admiral.”

It was a diversionary tactic to be true, but he didn’t seem to mind. You heard his genuine chuckle as he followed behind you to the restaurant.

———————————

This place was new like he’d said. And very crowded tonight as the two of you were almost pressed together as you snaked through the loud conversations and people already grouped up here and there.

Several sailors acknowledged him as always as you passed them. Either actual friends of his, or just rookies excited to see an admiral out here in the wild casually amongst the rank and file.

It wasn’t until you’d almost gotten to the table that he’d reserved, that some more sailors had parted from where they’d been talking and you saw Tashigi’s face light up as she stood to wave in greeting.

And maybe it was because of everything else already weighing you down, but you honestly took a moment to make the connection. You had started to wave back, with that split second of being glad to see her here existing before the realization of who she was always with had had you stop so suddenly.

Enough so that Kuzan ran into your back and had to put his hands on your shoulders to rebalance himself as you and Smoker made eye contact from across that table.

The true surprise in Smoker’s resulting expression made it perfectly clear that this had indeed been a trap for you both.

“Easy now.” You heard Kuzan’s voice immediately, his hands actually tightening on your shoulders since he was already against you anyway. He’d felt that immediate tension and wasn’t about to let you do something stupid again here.

Smoker was scowling now himself, but said nothing at first as Kuzan still ushered you to the table for you all to sit together.

It was then you and Kuzan, and Tashigi and Smoker at the four seater table as silence hung for a moment even in the still noisy atmosphere of the restaurant.

Smoker looked to Kuzan eventually though, rightfully accusatory and still somewhat taken aback. “…The hell are you trying to do, Kuzan? You didn’t say a thing about this!”

Tashigi was now holding her own hands nervously clasped together on the table before she blurted out. “It was my idea!”

“What!?” Smoker’s head whipped around to glare at her too beside him.

“Which I agreed to.” Kuzan answered easily. “Because you two have to get over this. Whether it’s now or later. So it might as well be now.”

You were just staring down at the table by then though, as if that wood grain now held the mysteries of life itself as you felt your stomach twisting.

“Before it’s on the battlefield and an enemy uses it against you! We have to be able to trust each other with our lives don’t we!?” Tashigi pleaded in an abrupt addition.

“Since when are you so tactical!? Don’t be over dramatic!” Smoker grunted back at her.

And the tit for tat went on for a bit longer than that too. Tashigi and Smoker now arguing, and Kuzan occasionally commenting in agreement with Tashigi. But in all the back and forth, you hadn’t said a thing.

You never even looked up. Not until a gentle touch met your hand in your lap. 

The shock of that was enough to make you realize just how close you’d been to actually becoming emotional here in front of everyone before you glanced back up to Kuzan. Your eyes were stinging slightly, though no tears had come.

And he squeezed your hand just a single time before he let it go again.

The others probably hadn’t even seen it, the gesture having happened beneath the table as you took a breath and were then able to speak again.

“It’s fine. I get it.” You said to all of them now. “People break up every day. Of course I’d still have your back when out in the field. That doesn’t change. But can we get some drinks already?”

And maybe Smoker did catch the odd waver still in your voice then. Because his scowl faded quite a bit at that, and you could feel the way he was watching you again.

There’d been a time not so long ago when you could have elicited much more positive emotions from that man than just this most basic level of human empathy. But maybe that was gone forever.

It’s not like you didn’t have enough to already be overwhelmed with anyway as you could still feel that warmth that had creeped into your chest just at Kuzan’s touch.

An entirely ironic thing on its own for how chilled his hand had really felt tightly against yours in that brief moment.

Yes, you were now absolutely going to over do it tonight. You knew that just as sure as anything. Because you wanted every shot, and every full glass that you could stand to dull this train wreck already in process.

———————————

At the least though, you and Smoker hadn’t made things intolerable for everyone else the rest of the night. But the two of you could both really get into alcohol when pressed, and had done so heavily now.

Even though Kuzan and Tashigi both knew unhealthy over indulgence when they saw it, this was also about the best way this could have gone down. You were both too stubborn and too prideful to make amends any other way.

So the drinks had just kept coming, almost as if you were both trying to outdo one another. There’d been food in there somewhere too. But you couldn’t even remember the taste of it by the time you were then holding onto Kuzan’s arm in order to leave the restaurant and bar a few hours later.

You had heard him offer to help Tashigi with Smoker too. But she said they were actually still docked in the harbor and supposed to sail again at first light. So it made more sense for them to return to their ship rather than the barracks now.

Some others from Smoker’s crew had been nearby and were then helping escort him alongside the contrastingly sober Tashigi back to port.

You didn’t think you’d even seen her drink anything more than a mocktail and water all night actually as she congratulated you yet again on the whole slave freeing debacle.

Smoker had paused to tell you goodbye as well though. Even if he wasn’t quite walking straight anymore. “Take care of yourself, alright? …I’m sure I’ll see you.”

“Yeah,” you’d said. Even as you felt Kuzan hug your waist with one arm to keep you from slipping down again. It wasn’t an angry parting as just exes this time at least. It kind of felt like a real goodbye more than anything. “See you around, Smoker…”

And there was finally almost a sadness in it as you saw the way he looked at you one last time. 

But it was what it was as you tried not to think of all the other bar nights where you and he would have just ended up passing out together after stumbling to your quarters or his. Then getting up in the morning, still smelling like cigars and booze before heading into the shower together for some rough wake up sex to help push those dueling hangovers away.

You two sure hadn’t hated each other then. And really, you didn’t now either. But it just couldn’t work, knowing how he really felt about your ambitions. And there was no more reason to waste one another’s time to pretend any different.

You and Kuzan were now going one way, and Tashigi and Smoker another.

Unlike Tashigi though, Kuzan had also drank his fair share, but nothing extreme like you and Smoker had.

You could smell the alcohol on the admiral, but it was almost pleasant. Some nice aged drink he’d been nursing all night even as you had swapped more between vodka and shots. 

He had the duty of still being your compass too as you both walked on.

And when you’d nearly tripped again, you did your best to still apologize to him. “Sorry...I know it sucks babysitting me.”

But he still had that wry smile. “You were just trying to get the demons out. Trust me, I know how it goes.” Yet he looked amused a bit now too. “I haven’t seen Smoker pound them back quite that fast in a while either. Man’s going to be in a lot of pain come tomorrow.”

“And there’s supposed to be a squall coming out there.” You replied. Because oh yes, bad hangovers on rough seas were their own kind of special hell.

You both laughed some then, having been there, done that more times than you’d care to admit. 

But when you leaned more into him, just steadying yourself as you walked together, he had quieted again.

For a few more streets it went on like that too, walking with his arm around you for support. It did feel safe. 

It felt almost right.

“(Y/N).” Kuzan said carefully after a while more though, and you realized he was looking up at the moon a little again. “If you were having trouble with something…if you weren’t okay, you know I’d help you right?”

“Hmm?” You murmured in question to his own. Not trying to avoid anything really, just not clear in mind enough now as you rested your head against him when he’d stopped.

His unique body heat had always been a strange thing to you. It was there, but only on the surface. Because he still had a heartbeat and flowing blood like anyone else of course. But if you pressed against him further, really leaned into him, it was that colder chill you could start to feel. Like a second comforting layer that was hard to explain.

“I’m never okay, Kuzan.” You said with your cheek now against the soft fabric of his shirt. That cool feeling was still there, just as expected.

Some things just couldn’t be forgotten.

And you felt him move. He’d gone from just one arm around your waist to support and guide you, to both now around you as if he really thought you were going to fall down.

The night felt even a little colder then too, but you liked it. You always had when he let you get as close as this.

His hand had left your waist soon after though to move under your chin. And so very gently then, he turned your head so that you knew he was looking at the heavier makeup there which you’d so rarely wear. Makeup to cover the bruises that you hadn’t had at breakfast with him this morning.

But he didn’t say anything. And so close like this, you could smell the alcohol a bit stronger on him now.

Had he just looked at your lips? Yes, he absolutely had. And you felt something flutter inside of you.

But when he’d leaned in, his arms only tightened around you in a true hug.

“It’s getting late. Come on, I’ll walk you home.”

———————————

And he hadn’t asked you anymore questions after that. You had really started to feel nauseous just outside the barracks though. 

It was a false alarm however, even as you bent over near the bushes with Kuzan patiently holding your hair just in case until that awful feeling had subsided again.

A gloriously kind scene you likely wouldn’t have to remember as he had steered you back to your door in the corridor soon after.

And as you leaned on your own doorframe as if it was the only thing still tethering you to the ground in this moment, he’d still managed a smile at you.

“I suggest sleeping on the floor tonight. Probably beside the toilet actually.”

“Yeah…” You somewhat agreed. But “Thank you.” was all that came out next as you looked at him seriously.

And it was that odd feeling again.

You felt like his eyes were saying that he didn’t want to leave. Even as he stepped back away. “You’re welcome. Now get some rest. I’ll call you tomorrow to make sure you’re still alive.”

The words were simple, yet significant all the same as you’d nodded in affirmation before disappearing behind your closing door.

Friends could call friends. It still wasn’t necessarily what it felt like even as you collapsed onto your bed, boots and jacket still on as you fell quickly into much needed sleep.

———————————

There was no real sense of time after that. Whether it’d been an hour or three, you only knew that you’d been dreaming something. 

That fantasy dissipating into the noise of your transponder snail now ringing persistently.

“Fuck…” You weren’t all the way awake until you’d fully impacted the ground. Your leg twisted in your blanket as you’d fallen while trying to get off the bed. 

The snail went teetering over as well as it and the receiver slid across the floor.

It was a weird stretch and crawl you’d had to do then, leg still tangled in the fabric as you picked up the receiver and put it to the side of your face. 

You were laid out fully then, on the floor as Kuzan had recommended you do to start with as you spoke tiredly. “Hello?”

“Did you just throw the goddamned phone?” A much more lucid voice came immediately taunting from the other end.

And your eyes opened into the darkness of your bedroom at that, staring at nothing as you tried to understand.

You started to say his name in surprise too, but he was still much faster.

“Ah, don’t be so rash. This isn’t a secured line, angel.”

Your eyebrows had lowered all the same. Your mind in disbelief. “How did you…”

But Doflamingo laughed anyway, as if that alone wasn’t one of the most identifiable sounds you’d ever heard. “All the things that I’m capable of, and you’re going to be amazed that I can read a public phone directory? I told you I’d be in contact.”

But this soon? 

You curled up a little on the floor then, his voice echoing a bit to you with your already significant headache.

“You woke me up,” You complained.

“I can tell.” Though he already sounded curious too. Even now, that light slur in your words was apparent, and more than just from the sudden sleep interruption.

“Are you actually drunk, woman?”

“Yes.” You answered without hesitation.

You could hear a little growl, a pleased sound really as even your snail formed an indulgent smirk on its lips in response.

“Naughty girl. So you’re alone then?”

He wasn’t stupid. He knew you wouldn’t be talking like this if you weren’t. But again you still answered. “Yes.”

You didn’t have the ability to properly deal with with him right now. In fact, you were still out of it enough to wonder if this was even reality as you closed your eyes again.

“I couldn’t sleep.” His dark voice stated next though, and with a tone that implied you were somehow responsible for this problem.

“And?…” What were you supposed to do about it?

“This bed is cold.” He insisted a little more, making sure you understood his meaning.

But was he really…no, there was no way he was just calling because he was horny again was he? Literally, he had already had his dick in you this morning. And you had had your hand around him after too, stroking that damned weapon of a cock until he’d coated your hand completely when he’d cum.

Wasn’t that enough for you to be left alone for at least a night? Even your drunk brain recognized this additional red flag in the sea of them that he’d already put out. Were you supposed to be at his beck and call anytime he had an urge?

“Are you calling me because you already think this is all I’m for? That I just bedhop at every opportunity or something?” You grumbled, the alcohol really helping this bit of new indignation even as you opened your eyes to stare at the snail.

And when the warlord didn’t have an instant comeback to that, you kept on. “I’m tired of just getting passed to the next guy…” Kuzan had broken up with you before you’d barely made a year together, Smoker just after two. Your track record wasn’t the greatest right now.

And it was absolutely drunken rambling by this point, but it didn’t make it any less true in your mind at least as you finished with, “And you’re just going to do the same I’m sure…fuck me around a while and then throw me away, right?”

“Is that really all you’re worried about?” His voice did respond then, having indulged you just enough to let you leave yourself even more vulnerable for what came next.

“But who said I was like them? I’m the one calling now to check in on you aren’t I? I’m the one who can’t sleep because I know I didn’t give you everything you wanted today.” But you could hear the grin on the other side. “How bad does it still hurt by the way?”

You made an incredulous noise, He was an absolute ass when he wanted to be. “Believe me, it hurts.” Whether he meant the pain of where he’d torn you though, or the fact that every guy you gave yourself to just kept dumping you didn’t matter. “And what was it that I supposedly wanted?”

“Pleasure. Attention. Praise.” He answered so smoothly.

“I think you’re talking about yourself.” You retorted, though feeling more flustered at even just the way he was saying those words. His voice could be like silk…it was disturbing the effect it still had.

“Yes, we’re similar in at least a few ways.” He actually agreed. But your resistance didn’t hamper him from playing the games he wanted to, when he wanted to either. “You know what I’m wearing right now, woman?”

And of course you felt the heat in your face with that abruptly lewd tone. But oh no, absolutely not. You were not about to do this on an unencrypted marine snail. And you couldn’t say his name as you tried unsuccessfully to redirect him. “Stop it, they might actually listen to these calls you know!”

He laughed. “Let them. You think you’d be the first marine to talk dirty to her boyfriend assigned on another island? I’d bet that’s the majority of the calls into and from those barracks actually.”

“Oh, so you’re my boyfriend?” You scoffed, just mocking him in return. And hoping the childishness of it all would ruin his mood. He’d taunted your feelings enough already today.

But he didn’t care, rolling with it easily as he still let it get even more personal. “Why not? You want me to say you’re my favorite right now? Fine. You’re my favorite. Because you couldn’t piss me off so much if you weren’t. You couldn’t have me hard even in my fucking sleep if you weren’t.”

“You’re so full of shit.” You said defensively, but your expression not matching your words as that heat that had been just in your face now spread into your chest.

It wasn’t fair. You were tired, you were drunk, and whatever had been happening with Kuzan earlier had already had you questioning so many things.

How truly stupid would you be to ever believe you were at all special to either man though. If Kuzan had wanted you, wouldn’t he have never let Smoker have you at all?

And if Doflamingo truly wanted you instead, it still would never be anything more than being used like a plaything. As if you’d even be his only one either. A charismatic asshole like this probably had multiple bedwarmers just like you spread out on every island on the Grand Line.

But he didn’t retort immediately. Surprisingly calm then as it sounded like he was stretching actually. And your extremely unhelpful brain was already imagining his long, lean body lazily splayed in a fancy bed somewhere in response.

Was he in the dark too? There was just the faintest moonlight coming through the blinds at your window. You could picture that as well, the moonlight making contrasts across his exposed chest or abdomen.

You’d never seen much else of him in truth. He’d always stayed dressed. Only his shirt unbuttoned and pants loosened just enough to get the job done.

You’d never seen his broad shoulders, his back muscles, his thighs…

Probably as tan and perfect as the rest of him. Somehow you just couldn’t picture any scars on that man if you ever really got to see it all.

And only his leading voice interrupted your bit of fantasizing there. Though of course not making anything any better as he still sounded so enticing. “And what makes you think I’m not capable of playing a longer game anyway?” He asked then.

“Well…you’re you.” You said, clearly running out of proper retorts by now.

“Which means what? That I only fuck and run? Time is money too you know. And I don’t waste either. How much money have I already blown on you now?”

He was quiet for just a little after though, not really expecting you to answer that. And you saw the snail wasn’t really smiling anymore. “You know I’m not letting you go back to sleep until you admit that I’m right.”

“Right about what?” You did question back then, but still much less assertively now.

“That you want me too obviously. And that it’s stronger than what you feel with him.”

He wasn’t joking. You tried to not look as surprised as you felt though. You knew how much the snails mimicked every look or doubt on their own faces.

But was that what was really keeping him awake then? He was still this stressed about Kuzan? The realization hit you pretty hard as you tried to understand it.

If you’d been fully sober, you probably would have remembered that a hallmark of controlling or abusive people was often how very insecure they actually were deep down. That they tried so hard to erase their own weaknesses through that outward display of confidence and cruelty.

It didn’t excuse their negative behavior, but it often accompanied it.

“Of course I want you,” You just breathed out in frustration though. What good would it do to pretend otherwise? It’s not like you knew how to hide it when alone with him. But you may have gone too far as well as you also finally admitted. “I don’t think about him when I take care of myself at night you know. It’s been you every time since that day.”

You heard him take a breath, and there was no question that he knew exactly what you meant. And just as you’d thought it would for all those nights that you’d played with yourself, this new information goaded him immediately.

“Fuck, woman. You should have called me.” He sounded needy and freshly irritated all at once.

As if you’d even known his number. He must be assuming you could have pulled the warlord files to get it. As if you would have risked doing that right now.

But his mind was now latched onto your confession of course as he only wanted to know more.

“Just your hand then? Or do you keep toys in your room?” His breathing was changing a little more too as he tried to coax these private details from you.

It made you feel more flustered as well in how quickly you were already learning his patterns. Even over the phone now, you knew the change in his sound when he was starting to get hard for you.

“Just my hand…on the outside. I’ve still been sore since the first time.” Sore ever since the basement in Mariejois, and only injured even more in Sabaody. Which you both knew whose fault that was.

You tried not to glance at the snail now for the completely lustful look it was giving you. You really hoped the damn things dissociated from what they had to hear at this point.

Though you were also sure that Doflamingo was right that you were far from the only couple who had these kinds of conversations from the barracks.

“Then touch it like that now,” He ordered you to do it again. “Make it wet for me. I want to hear what I’ve been missing out on.” 

His voice had dropped into that even more seductive range if that was possible. And as annoyed as you were, still fully dressed here on the floor, you did feel that damnable twinge beginning fresh between your legs at his urging.

“You’re relentless.” You told him. Even as you started undoing your belt.

There was his chuckle again, but you heard him give a little grunt too. You knew what he already had his hand around.

But if this was how it was going to be, he needed to set the scene for you as well. Was your previous imagination correct? Fair was fair.

“Where are you anyway?” You asked, unbuttoning and unzipping your pants then as you lifted enough to slide them off of your hips.

“At the house that I asked you to come to. Here in my bed with nothing but a smile on, lover.” His breathing had fully changed enough that he was roughly stroking himself now for sure.

And you didn’t know if he was ever going to decide on just one thing to call you. He seemed to enjoy having a nickname for you for every occasion at this point.

But that one was new. And it really hit somehow as you slipped your fingers into your underwear.

“Lover, huh?” You asked, making clear that it had had an affect as you leaned back onto the floor and started spreading your legs for him.

“You like that, don’t you?” He further indulged. “It’s what you are now though…you know that right? You’re mine. Just like that swollen clit I bet you’re petting. It all belongs to me now.”

And you were rubbing it. Staying away from the true entrance, but teasing that bundle of nerves on the outside as you pretended it was his tongue between your legs again.

You did make a soft sound of arousal before you could stop yourself as your hips moved.

“I want you here.” Was what you confessed even on top of this after a while, pride vanishing the more your body continued to heat up. Even the hangover headache wasn’t enough to counteract what was happening to you now.

He actually groaned at that too. And you could hear his bed starting to creak from over the phone, he was thrusting unabashedly into his own hand then. “I know, I know. Fuck…I want it too. I want to feel you.” It sounded like you were torturing him in that instant as well with what he couldn’t have.

Of course even for a warlord, breaking into Marineford, the home of not only marine HQ but Sengoku and all three of his admirals in the middle of the night was a huge ask.

An impossibility really as he let out another moan for you. “I want you on this cock. You squeeze it so goddamn perfect when you are. I won’t rip that cunt next time, woman…I’ll take care of it until you’re begging me for more. Begging me to cum and fill you again. I swear-” His breath hitched once more and he actually laughed without being able to stop himself, the pleasure sounding so intense.

And by then you had completely dampened your underwear, rubbing your fingers rhythmically between your now slick folds in companionship to his voice.

“Please.” Yes, everything he said was what you wanted him to do to you. But when? How long until you could really see him again? You rocked your own hips harder with that need beginning to crest.

“Say it again,” he growled hungrily. He was clearly already so close to his own release. It couldn’t be helped. You drove him to the edge just that quickly.

And it was pathetically short for you as well as your thighs already tensed and even your torn center clenched at what was only there in your imagination. That was already the first orgasm, with an even deeper one building behind it.

“Please…” You knew you couldn’t say his name, even as desperately as you wanted to then. “I want you to do it.” So you tried another name, not knowing what else to do. But knowing what he wanted to hear. “Cum in me, baby. Please.”

“Yes…goddamn. Fuck it, that’s it. That’s it, fuck me,” And his voice was shaking as you heard him gasp as he came hard.

It made you tremble too, those deep contractions going off inside of you one after another, trying to pull in something that wasn’t even there as you whined for him.

You could hear his deep breathing too as he lingered as long as he could on that natural high.

And when you had both finally settled, an almost warm chuckle emanated from that phone.

“It’s all over me. Hell, woman. You’re supposed to be here to lick it off.” And you heard his bed creak again as if he was shifting to look at what he’d done. “It got all the way up to my chest. Damn.”

He was complaining, but he wasn’t. His voice still sounded all too satisfied as he added.

“It may even be in my hair. Fuck you, woman. I have to sleep in this now.” The snail was smiling so wide.

“Just take a shower, asshole.” Somehow you knew you could get away with this right now as you wiped your own wet fingers off on your blanket on the floor. You were actually smiling too. Only real smiles were contagious you knew.

And you were right on that new lightness in his mood as he made an exaggerated sound after, like wanting your pity. He was actually being playful with you. “No, fuck that. The shower’s too far. I’m tired now.”

“Then suffer I guess.” You said, pulling that same blanket closer to you to curl up in it for real.

“I will.” He answered, and it sounded like he was getting comfortable as well. He really was just going to sleep in the mess he’d made and worry about it later apparently.

If you had been together in the same room right now, you wondered if he would have kicked you from his bed though. What kind of man was he when it came to that? 

Once he’d had his way with someone, did he want to share his bed at all when the deed was done? Would he have held you right now? He had held you a little in Disco’s office. But, that wasn’t really the same as sleeping side by side.

“Sober up and get some rest,” He spoke again though, and he did sound more lethargic there. “I’ll be back out of town for a while. But it’ll work out. Next time I see you, your little hole will be healed and we’ll do this properly, face to face. Deal?”

How was he so good at this though? It seemed impossible that the same man that had practically tortured you this morning by trying to break you in half over the edge of Disco’s desk was now making you desperately wish you were wrapped up in this blanket together. All in the span of a single day he’d shown you both sides of himself again.

“Yeah. You’re going to tell me when to put in for shore leave?” You asked

“I will.” He assured.

“Good night then I guess.” How else were you supposed to end this call? Still feeling needy, but a bit confused as to the reasons for it as you readied to hang up the snail.

“Good night, lover. Thanks for the help. I’ll be in touch.” And it wasn’t mocking at all then, not even a little as you heard the click of the line disconnect.

Your snail immediately closed its eyes, content to return to the sleep the two of you had so rudely kept it from. So you placed the receiver back on top of its shell, then truly alone again in the dark.

But you still felt warm, with a very special kind of dread within that too. 

Lovers? Was that supposed to be any better than just a random fling? Was it supposed to mean something to you? You didn’t know all the nuances here. Either you were with someone or you weren’t.

He didn’t want you sleeping with anyone else now though. You’d gathered that much. But, were there any rules for him? Or could he still pick up any and everyone he wanted?

Whether there would ever be any implied fidelity here was too much to really think about for long though. 

You decided to just let it go for now. Back to fantasizing of being held by your particular choice of warlord, falling to sleep as everything slipped away to dreams again.

———————————

    T⨂  BE 

CONTINUED

———————————

Thanks for reading!

[dark-night-hero]

You hate Kayden Break. He who is arrogant, full of pride, narcissistic bastard who doesn't know his place. He who wreak havoc of anyone who gets in his way. "The fuck is your problem?!" "The fuck you mean my problem?! I was minding my onw fucking business and you just hit me with your fucking divine whatever judgement your pulling off you bastard!" You shout right back at him with a glare, he was just as messed up and beat up as you. Serves him right! He better eat some shit and die!

You hate Kayden Break. He how made you stay up all night, empty wine glass in hand, gift long forgotten in the trashcan. Quietly staring at the clock as three days have gone by with no signs of him ever showing up. Setting the wine glass on the table, you reach out for the whole bottle of wine before chugging it down. You don't know if you should be hate yourself for thinking he would show up or hate him for making promises he couldn't keep.

You hate Kayden Break. "What the fuck was that?!" "What the fuck was what?" "The letter!" "Letter what letter?" "Kayden, do you take me as a fool?! People- the awakened one were laughing at me! Since when did you and Gestella have a thing?!" "Me and who- oh. Well, we did meet up once-" "So there was something really going on between the two of you!" "Why are you so mad? It's not like... you know what. I'm tired. I'm leaving." "Kayden." "Kayden!" "Kayden walk out of that door and were done!" He left through the window.

You hate Kayden Break. He who was too prideful to say sorry. Thinking everything could be resolve with some make up sex. Like everything would would be alright after some kisses. Sure kiss it better. But as you find yourself alone in the morning with no one by your side. You find yourself crying on yourside of the best cradling yourself back to sleep.

You hate Kayden Break. The selfish fucker who left no words upon disappearing. Leaving you all alone with uncertainty. Sure the two of you pften fought all the time, sure your last conversation may not have been the best and wasn't left on good terms, but damn it all. If he love you, if he loved you even just a little bit. Would it hurt him to tell you, to give you any idea if he was still alive out there?

You hate Kayden Break. He was a battle maniac, he has some loose crews in his head. He trashtalk a lot, he has this stupid habits of pissing off his enemy before the fight. He doesn't know how to take care of himself. Your relationship with him was not the best. It hurts. You hate how he loves to drive more into the thrill of the fight than to make sure he survived.

But you love Kayden Break. "Babe." "What?" "Remember when we first met?" "..." "I was so fucking mad back then but looking back, it was find of funny. Also, have I every told you-" you cut of as a pair of arm warped around you from behind. The way you felt his lips presses upon your shoulder into the back of your neck. "Hey, babe. That tickles." You knew it was his own way of saying sorry as he kisses his marks, those thunderbolt marks you sustained from your first encounter. "I'm alright babe."

But you love Kayden Break. The way you groan and was about to shift in your position when you realise someone was carrying you. The slight panicked but upon smelling a familiar scent, a rush of anger came up nevertheless you remained unmoving in his arms. His gentle steps echoing inside the mansion as he navigate his way into your room, all while princess carrying you. Setting you down on the bed before tucking you in. You felt his soft lips pressed upon your forehead. "Sorry I'm late." Damn it, you're supposed to be mad.

But you love Kayden Break. "What were you thinking ambushing her like that?!" "What?! What am I supposed to do? I ask her for a fight." "I- ah- hah!" You don't know if you should laugh or cry. Should you be glad to know that this man ain't that oblivious when it comes to you? "Kayden- babe. If Gestella comes after you, I won't lend a hand." "Wouldn't have it any other way." "Maybe I should join hands with her and beat up your sorry ass."

But you love Kayden Break. The way your entire body turned stiff before trying to relax as best as you can in a natural way as possible when the weight of the bed shifted. The way you you laid there unmoving with silent tears rolling down your cheeks before you felt him move closer towards you and soon after, an arm warped around your waist, pulling you close into his bare chest. The way his hand eventually made its way into your shaking shoulder and held it firm yet gently. "I know I don't deserve you." Thoss words eere beyond whisper. "I'm sorry."

But you love Kayden Break. "Stop laughing." "Haha- ehem.. pffff alright babe, I'm sorry." You cannot help but to look away only to burst out laughing upon seeing his current form, his disciple breaking into cold sweat as his mentor looks like he was ready to kill you in his fat form only to be in shock when his mentor ended up resting on your lap. "He's quite handful, isn't he?" You asked his disciple with a laugh. Petting the chunky orange cat on your lap.

But you love Kayden Break. No matter how much of a bastard he was. No matter how arrogant and annoying he had become. You love him and will continue to do so. "Kayden." "Doll." He gave you a smile, that damn crazy smile whenever he's feeling the thrill of fighting. "Come back to me alive and well." "Didn't I always come back to you?" This time there was a sly smirk in his face. Nevertheless there is this feeling of unease within you chest. "Hey, look at me." Before you knew it, he was within eye level as he lean down to look at you eye to eye. "I'll come back. Okay?" "... alright" "Good, now sit down and watch this shitshow I'm about to make." "..." "Kayden." "Doll?" "Please be careful."

[ⓒdark-night-hero] 2024°

:it's a tough week, Kayden Break girlies/lovers out there. Trust me.

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Yandere Himbo Househusband Loves When…

Yandere Himbo Househusband loves when you take the day off to workout with him. Whether your and exercise buff or just trying it out, he’s in bliss. Being strong is Morgan’s strongest suite, hence his underground name being Behemoth, so his heart’s beating a mile minute. Sometimes it’s more exciting than pummeling those ambushers in the underground. It’s even cuter when you struggle with his toned down work out.

“Ergh! How do you even move this? This is literally three tons!”

“Ah don’t worry babe, that’s just for a warm-ups!”

Yandere Himbo Househusband loves when you purposely touch his muscles especially his pecks. Just the way you casually squeeze his muscles, sends him in a frenzy. He’s always been told or flirted with about his muscular stature but it’s completely different when his Lovebug comments on it. It effectively boosts his pride that you appreciate his hard work he’s been doing.

“Ah such big boobas!”

“Just for you Lovebug!”

Yandere Himbo Househusband loves when you cheer him on. Now there’s no way he let’s you attend his death+matches but you being his cheerleader in anything else makes his heart and something else+ swell. Hearing your strained voice calling out to him in the heat of the neighborhood eating contests—pumps him up like no one else. Heck! If you just cheered him on for not breaking anything in the house he can’t help but want to pounce.

“Just a little! Love Bug Pleeeeeease! You can’t cheer me on and not let me do it!”

Yandere Himbo Househusband loves when people challenge him for you. He knows your a catch, its only a given that’d there be competition. And what better way to show his love than clobbering the coworker that was saying mean things really quietly. Don’t scrunch your eyebrows! They really did say something mean. He’ll act real angry if anyone vaguely references you in the ring he’ll literally beat them into a bloody pulp but deep down he’s jumping at the chance to defend your honor. It’s all for his Lovebug!

“I’ll enjoy beating your face in!”

Yandere Himbo Househusband loves when he can treat you especially when its at the expense of anyone who say something he doesn’t like. There’s just something so satisfying about watching you get all dressed up for a night out after he earned a cash-gift from a workout buddy. That workout buddy being the bloody remains being delivered to make a special kind of smoothie.

“You look a million dollars, babe!”

[elainemg97]

Elriel Month Day 28: Death’s Fanged Beast

I made this piece following the headcanon that Elain already has or will develop some Earth magic. In this scenery, Elain and Az are in some ancient ruins and have been ambushed. I drew Elain levitating and throwing rocks at an unseen enemy while giant vines crawl out of the earth, ready to strike. Azriel is perched atop a boulder, shadows at the ready, feeling a sense of pride; he is prepared to defend Elain if needed. Together, they make the ultimate power couple. Warrior and Mage, Shadowsinger and Seer, Death and his lovely fawn. Death’s fanged beast.

I drew Elain in a black dress because I am personally tired of people saying she doesn’t belong in the night court because of the dress she wore at the Court of Nightmares. That other dress was purposely made ugly so that Nesta drew Eris’s attention. I want Elain to wear a black dress that is suitable and perfect for her.

Ps: It’d be cool if Elain was gifted raw magic like Dorian, and she could manifest it into whatever power she needs.

[buckets-and-trees]

Warm Shadows - Let All Light Go (2/4)

Collection: Warm Shadows Characters/Pairings: Alpha!Steve x f!Omega!Reader, existing Alpha!Bucky x f!Omega!Reader Word Count: 7.5k Summary: Now that he's claimed you, Captain Hydra takes you back to his new base of operations, his little omega bait for the Soldat. But the bond between an alpha and an omega is a powerful thing that shouldn't be trifled with. [sequel to When You Fall On Me Like Night]

Content Warnings: DARK, a/b/o dynamics, explicit smut, DUBIOUS CONSENT/omega heat, oral - female receiving, vaginal fingering, breast play, vaginal intercourse

Logistical Notes: We've got a dose of pride for @nickfowlerrr's Seven Deadly Sins + Seven Holy Virtues writing event. Now this second part is too late for the Horror Movie Hoe-a-thon, but I had most of it written before the challenge closed, and so I had plucked another dialogue prompt from her list, so I still want to give @witchywithwhiskey credit where it's due, and you'll find the prompt in bold and italics when it appears.

Additional Notes: I had no intention of making this three times as long as the original, but Steve had other plans. So many other plans. Thanks to @biteofcherry for letting me suss out a couple of the things I had questions on plot-wise. Title from Hozier's De Selby (Part 2).

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Steve doesn’t smile anymore. He hasn’t smiled in weeks. And yet the frown on his face is more than the non-smile stoicism that had taken over his demeanor since the ambush outside of Turin. He exhales deeply, washing away the frown as he straps your limp body into the jump seat of the stealth jet. Unconscious and sedated, your head falls forward though your torso is held back by the chest harness of the safety belt. Steve angles your head back against the headrest because if you got a crick in your neck, it will be a problem he doesn’t want to hear you try and complain about later.

He had achieved his objective in coming to Wakanda. Though the operation had played out with slight differences from what he had anticipated, it had gone as close as he could have logically projected in almost every aspect. He knew Bucky. No. The Winter soldier, he corrects. And he knew you. As players in this piece of the plan, you had both been reliably predictable.

As a super soldier Steve knew the strengths, the weaknesses, the limitations, and what Barnes would be susceptible to. That’s why he had been so prepared in laying his trap and incapacitating the asset.

Overpowering you had been easy.

Claiming you had split a slow but building tremor to his system. It had changed what he’d intended to do.

A few hours later as he approaches the remote Hydra base, that disconcerting feeling in his brain that he is working to tamp down still smolders with something unsettled that makes him flick his eyes up to the mirror that allows the pilot to check the interior behind him to see that you’re still in the same state of sedation.

His new conditioning will help him to control this irritating itch.

After touching down and rolling into the hangar, Steve unbuckles you from the seat and slings your unconscious body over his shoulder. He doesn’t stop walking but proceeds to give his brief mission report to the ranking officer on base who was waiting to meet him at the base of the small jet’s cargo ramp as he exits. This man is not his handler but his liaison for the time being. He’s competent enough that Steve if rarely frustrated with him. The power dynamics are something Steve is constantly aware of. Hydra wants to know they are in control and yet learned with the Winter Soldier that an asset stripped of complete autonomy was more inflexible to work with – and impossible to pull back when he broke free. They don’t want to make the same mistake with him, but they give him no illusion over who his allegiance is to now. It’s not a leash, but an unmistakable tether that they will let him tenuously control as long as he ultimately complies.

It's why he has tolerable and private living quarters where he deposits you on top the large bed. He leaves a bottle of water next to you and then leaves. The door to his quarters is controlled by a fingerprint recognition, allowing Steve a fair amount of control over who can come in and out, and he has no intention of giving you access.

He goes to the mess to get food. No one approaches him while he eats. He collects two of the meal boxes that are ready to go – one marked for lunch, one marked for dinner – and brings them back for you.

You’re still asleep when he returns. He takes the time to order routine meal delivery to his quarters for you long term as well as a supply of standard issue clothes and laundry service. This base is a hub for research and development, so the standard of living is functional and minimalistic, which suits him fine, and that is all you will require as his omega.

It's mid afternoon before you finally wake, and he can sense the moment you resume consciousness – his heightened senses heard the change in your breathing, but there’s also an innate sense about it. He wasn’t expecting that.

He shifts slightly where he sits in a boxy armchair reading over some new intelligence reports on his tablet to watch you. You slowly sit up causing the water bottle he set on the mattress next to you to roll against your body, and you frown, then look around and see him almost immediately. Fear and anger show immediately in your face, exactly as he expected.

“Your food is on the counter,” he says flatly.

“I don’t want it.”

“You will,” he responds.

You look away from him, scan the single-room quarters, and then look down to the water bottle again. He hears your small sigh before you pick it up, unscrew the top to take a few sips, then close it and shift to one side of the bed and lay back down, curling up, facing away from him. There’s an east-facing window on that side of the room.

None of this behavior is unexpected, and it’s of no matter to him. He has you here, he’s keeping you here as long as necessary. You’re hurt, you will hold onto your pride at the offense for a long while yet, and he expects it. He’s not offended. It will wear away.

He has a few projects he planned to touch base with various research and development teams on the base, and so now that he knows you’re alert and fine, he has no problem resuming his operations and routines.

The single declaration over the food is all you say to him for the first few days.

Not that he is there much either. He has missions, projects, agendas – his own and Hydra’s, and certainly doesn’t exist to coddle his omega.

An omega, he reminds himself.

There is only one bed, and he doesn’t say one word about it to you. The first night when he returns, you are curled in on yourself on the edge of the bed much as you had been earlier when he left (though he notes you had eaten the roll from the dinner box, so you had moved at some point). He wordlessly changes into his sleepwear and slides beneath the sheets. He figures if it bothers you enough, you can choose to sleep on the small couch or the floor, but he isn’t going to give up the bed to accommodate you.

On the third day, you rise when he does. The small bathroom is the only private part of the living quarters, so he is closed off from you while he showers, but as he eats breakfast and finishes the rest of his morning routine, you sit in the armchair, legs curled up, and watch him with a cool storm in your eyes.

When he returns on the fourth night, you smell different. You wear the same clothes, but you’ve clearly showered, and you must have done what you could to clean your clothes in the sink because you're wearing them and not the base-issued garments. You’re already curled up on your side of the bed, still on top of the bedding, barefoot, but not sleeping yet.

Your state of unrest is burdening his thoughts. It’s an imposition he can’t have.

The way you bleed into his consciousness was the only thing he had stupidly forgotten to even account for in this maneuver to draw out the Soldat. Part of it was because he hadn’t been entirely sure he could successfully make the claiming bond – he knew he could get the bite, but it had been a gamble on whether it would work.

It had.

Though it hadn’t been like a clap of lightning but more like an invisible string threaded between the two of you. He had used it to manipulate the situation that night, but the reality of it had also shifted what his original plan for you had been.

Having never bonded with an omega, he had heard varying reports of how the connections could develop between an alpha and an omega. Some said it was strong enough to reach a degree of non-verbal communication, but this seemed to be developing as more of a constant, pressing awareness as the string wove further through him as the days passed, but an awareness that he was learning to read and decipher.

That cool storm that brewed in your eyes any of the few times you looked at him had to be tamed. He didn’t expect it to go away, but he could not have the rage brewing, growing, and pulsing from you to him. He can’t afford the distraction.

In an operations meeting one of the analysts sits down to the table with two unnecessary books in the stack of things they’ve brought with them, and he remembers that you loved to read.

He deposits a linen tote bag with a stack of books on your bedside table that night, returning after you’re already asleep.

He leaves for a mission across the globe before you wake the next morning.

When he returns three days later, it’s mid-afternoon, and he goes to his quarters after the mission debriefing. You’re sitting almost comfortably on the couch with one of the books. You still regard him with cold, guarded eyes, but you’re wearing the base-issued clothing. It’s plain, utilitarian, slate grey.

He remains with you the rest of the evening, the two of you eating dinner together at the small table in one corner of the room when meals are delivered. You don’t look at him, and he doesn’t watch you too much. He thought he had been focused on the mission. He thinks now the focus had come easily again because you were less angry, an icy ache rather than the rampant and enflamed rage that was only further agitated without anything to do.

The next day is unremarkable with this new development. You read, you wear different clothes from the base again, and he is back to his standard on-base routine, returning to his quarters after dinner but before dark. It’s the same the day after, and then the day after that. The only thing that changes at the end of one more day, is that once you’re settled to sleep and he slides into bed a quarter of an hour later, he’s about to drop off to sleep when he hears you take a deep breath.

His own heart stills. What are you about to do?

“Can I have normal clothes?” you ask softly.

One request could lead to another request, and another.

But if they’re as simple as this, easy enough to appease, he could say yes until he needs to refuse you something he’s not willing to entertain.

“I’ll see it done.”

“Oh,” your response is small, surprised.

“Now sleep,” he says, not a command.

Mid-morning he has a break between consultations, and he pulls one of the base caretakers aside and charges them with accommodating your request.

He returns to you before dinner that night. He simply finished his work earlier than usual that day, it’s nothing more than that. You’re in jeans and a lightweight crewneck sweatshirt. Eating dinner is another quiet affair, but the easiest it’s been out of the few times you’ve shared any meals in this place.

Over the next week he eats breakfast with you and most of his dinners. There’s a sadness that’s growing, but he is also melting the glacier of your guarded hostility.

While eating dinner one evening, you ask, “Where are we?”

“A Hydra research and development facility.”

You give it another moment, and then you press further, “And where’s this facility located?”

He looks up at you across the table and gives a dark, wry smirk. “Europe.” His tone is clipped. He can see you know that’s the end of the information he’s going to give you on the matter.

“How are your books?” he ventures after a few minutes. He had gone to the bookshop in the town to purchase a second stock of books for you earlier in the week.

“I appreciate them,” you answer. Without looking back up at him, you say, “The old you liked to read.”

He glowers at you, but he can see there’s almost a warmth in your eyes. It does something to him, so he drops his eyes back to his plate.

He stands abruptly and takes his plate to the counter by the sink, then he leaves. He won’t entertain that line of conversation with you. He paces through the facility for an hour before he returns. When he sees you seem to have been waiting for him, there’s a small warmth in his chest. You just nod at him, and he nods in return. No more words are exchanged between you that night.

When you both finally retire to bed, he doesn’t say a word or give any sign of reacting to you pulling the covers back on your side of the bed for the first time in this space and climbing into them, he simply does the same on his side. You still stay rigidly still and curled up, nearly on the edge of the mattress, but it’s more than he ever expected from you. The nights following, you maintain this step forward in proximity.

He notices your hand going to your bonding mark from Bucky over the following days, and it happens more and more frequently. He almost says something, but as he scrutinizes your actions, he sees you do it without seeming to think about it. It bothers him, but when he sees it’s not intentional, it’s not jealousy or rage that eats at him, it’s something else.

Because why hasn’t the Soldat come for you yet?

That was the object of the game, after all.

He was sure he hadn’t underestimated the Soldat’s skills or Bucky’s devotion to you. Bucky had, in fact, been spotted close enough in the region that the whole base had been on red alert for three days, certain the Winter Soldier would strike, but he hadn’t. Then the reports were he’d gone further north and left Italy altogether, so the alert had gone down from red to orange, and now sat at yellow - standard caution and operating procedures.

It was bothering him further because you were supposed to be Bucky’s beloved omega. How could he abandon you this long? Work so carelessly? Soldat should be desperate and raising hell at this point.

Because at this point?

It’s why Steve decides to embark on one more mission. He doesn’t tell you where he is going. He didn’t tell you even that he is going. He could already feel your unease growing, the questions and uncertainty. He doesn’t need his omega further agitated.

His mission is quick and successful.

As he returns, there is a sudden spike of fear and adrenaline when he is about an hour out from the base. It burns through his system, and he hasn’t felt any emotions overpower him this strongly in weeks and weeks, but after less than a minute it’s snuffs out almost as quickly as it had flared.

Twenty minutes from landing, a call buzzes in over his comms.

“Captain, our base has been attacked, but we are clear from intruders and in active recovery mode now,” his liaison’s voice relays.

“Intruders?” he growls.

“Full report forthcoming and will be ready by the time you arrive. You are cleared for landing but divert to the machine storage facility rather than our standard hangar, we’ve sustained damage there. End communication.”

Steve slams his fist against the arm rest of the seat – the place he knew could sustain the brunt of his impatience – and it breaks off, smashed away completely.

His landing approach gives him a view of the obvious devastation to the base, the entire northwest quadrant still in flames, but with crews working quickly to extinguish the fire.

His liaison is waiting in a truck to drive from the storage on the outskirts back to the main base.

“Twenty-two casualties, six injured, two hundred on evacuation disbursement orders. Only beta essential personnel and the damage control teams remain, prime essential personnel were evacuated as soon as the intruder was reported.”

Steve frowns. “Identity?”

“Confirmed as the Soldat.”

Steve nods. “You said intruders when you contacted me on approach.”

“We’ve since confirmed it was the Winter Soldier and only him.”

He nods again. That news wasn’t surprising. Had he known I would be gone? He was certainly cutting it close, waiting until almost the eleventh hour to come for his omega.

“Status of the omega?”

“We sedated and moved the omega to our facility outside of Geneva.”

Steve’s entire chest seizes in rage – not only moving his omega without consulting him, but to sedate her without any thought? It doesn’t matter that it’s standard protocol for prisoners, you’re his omega. However, every alarm in his head rings immediately that he can not show any ripple of emotion or he may very well never see his omega again. He won’t make the same mistake again – not for a third time.

“Geneva will be the next center of operations for current projects?” he asks.

“Correct. Early calculations project that this base can be functional again in four to five months, and we’ll evaluate whether projects will move back, or continue in Geneva and other bases in the region and clear the way for new initiatives here. We thought you would want to see evidence and damages yourself here first, which is why I didn’t redirect you once we had entered the first recovery stages after clearing all immediate threats, Captain.”

“The logical call,” he agrees.

Four and a half hours later, he touches down in Geneva, but it’s another two hours before he can escape all the protocol and regrouping strategy conversations. Within ten minutes after that, he’s in the new living quarters assigned to him on the Swiss base.

And there you are. Haphazardly deposited on the bed, but there all the same. He lets out a breath as he closes the door behind him. It locks automatically. He drops his pack on the couch and then makes his way to you. He rights your body, laying you fully across the bed and straightening your limbs. He removes your shoes and tucks a pillow beneath your head. He could smell you immediately on entering the quarters, but handling your body now confirms you’re dangerously close to breaking into your heat a day earlier than you were supposed to. He has no doubt it’s due to the distress of the day. That spike of fear and adrenaline he felt earlier had to have been you moments before you were sedated for transport.

He examines your neck, but sees no evidence of an injection, which leaves sedation by inhalation. In a situation where they needed efficiency and couldn’t chance a miscalculation of precision, it was the logical move. It also narrows things down to one of two compounds currently in use for inhaled sedation, which he appreciates.

Then he sees the bloom of a bruise forming already on your arm just above the elbow, and his brow furrows. He will review the footage and he will find out who did this to you.

Satisfied in general over your state – even breathing and no other visible injuries – he turns his attention to the new living quarters. It’s still a studio set up, but moderately larger than the Turin facility. There he’d been assigned quarters for an individual, and this is clearly one of the units designed for Hydra personnel with a partner. A marked difference here is an area that is sectioned off as a study with a desk and a bookshelf. There are already some books there, but empty shelves that can be filled as well.

There’s a decently sized case on the table in the kitchenette area. Inside is a selection of personal effects transported here from Turin, likely collected after the initial evacuation of personnel, but delivered here in those first two hours while he was in the strategy meetings upon arrival. There are a few items of his clothing, a modest selection of the wardrobe he’d arranged for you, toiletries, and even your small accumulation of books.

He has just finished unpacking the case when he can sense you stirring on the bed. A moment later he feels the spike of unease and tension as you register the new surroundings, sitting up on the bed, but he’s already approaching you.

He can feel the diminution of your nerves when your eyes land on him, but he sees the initial wave of relief in your eyes that you also try and stamp away in an instant.

He sits cautiously but with no apology on the edge of the bed next to you.

“Where are we?”

“A new facility.”

Your eyes study him for a moment. He knows you’re assessing that his answer means he won’t give you details. “Still in Europe?”

He nods.

“How long since the former facility was compromised?” you ask.

He smirks. You were always intelligent – not that it would have been difficult to figure out, but he’s proud of how quickly your mind works.

You huff at his hesitation and roll your eyes. “If you think I’ll use the information to try and figure out where we might be, I don’t know where we started, so it won’t be of any use to me, I’m just hungry and want to know how much time I’ve lost.”

“It’s been somewhere between seven to eight hours.”

He reaches for his communications tablet and quickly orders a standard meal for each of you to be delivered as he hasn’t eaten much either.

“It was him, wasn’t it?” you break the silence again. “Bucky found me.”

He hadn’t planned to tell you, but he won’t lie to you. “Yes”

“He’ll find me again. He said that wherever I went, he would find me.”

“Oh, I know.” His stare is back on you. “That’s the entire point. I need the Soldat.”

The silence that builds between you two is full of anger on your side. There’s nothing else for him to explain, but he’s curious to see how long you’ll keep this moment stretching on before ending it or saying something else.

But it grows more and more uncomfortable, and you try not to fidget. You’ve never been one to fidget, and certainly not over these past few weeks at any point around him. Then he notices the beads of perspiration gathering on your brow.

“Your heat, Omega.”

“My heat, not yours.”

“Sure,” he laughs cruelly. He reaches out to touch your cheek, somewhat patronizingly.

“Don’t touch me!” you snarl and snap your jaws at him, causing him to withdraw his hand immediately. “I don’t need you.”

“Fine.” He stands and retreats, not because he fears you in the slightest, but because he won’t fight your petulance, not when he has better things he can do at least for now. “Face your heat alone, Omega.”

He leaves, hearing you let out another impatient huff just as the door closes behind him.

He leaves you in pursuit of one of the data analysis rooms. If you’re going to be difficult and refuse him, he can do better things with his time until you’re ready to bend and keen for him. Once there, he logs into the system and pulls up the footage from Turin. He watches every frame of the Winter Soldier’s attack on the facility. It was shown earlier when he was meeting with the Hydra officers in debriefing the attack, but now he can study it alone in its entirety, moving from camera to camera outside, and then through each hallway and room without commentary from anyone else, able to slow down and rewind each moment as he sees fit.

It’s masterful.

And he looks directly at cameras after many of the kills. Twenty-two casualties and only six injuries? That’s intentional. He knows the Soldat could have executed this more quietly, and that’s evident in how he exits when he realizes you’ve been moved. From that point, his exit strategy has him engaging with almost no one, but setting fires and explosions, leaving enough damage in his wake to send his message.

It’s effective.

Steve narrows the block of time from the incident on the base and watches additional footage from the same ten-minute period. It’s every frame of the footage related to your acquisition, sedation, and transport from the base. He is interested in discovering just how the Soldat knew when to retreat, and he leaves notes in his log and in addition to drafting and sending a memo with some of his theories and observations to his primary liaison and a few of the officers on the taskforce. But his primary objective was to figure out who handled you so roughly, and he does. They will be dealt with later. He can’t expose such a personally driven need to deal out punishment.

While he’s been gone he’s felt the tenor of your emotions tugging at him – not tugging insistently, and with how tightly you’ve tried to control and suppress your emotions over the past few weeks, this must mean you’re battling to keep things at bay, pushed beneath the surface. As soon as he enters, he clocks the spiking fluctuations of your hormones. Since returning with you from Wakanda, he’s read extensively over the heat cycles, and this situation gives all the signs that you’re vacillating precaiously between falling into either a standard heat or a dry heat. You’re trying to stave off the heat as long as possible, but it will come, and if you fight it too hard, it will be a dry heat, which will be physically and mentally painful for you and difficult for him to navigate with you. He needs to edge you carefully from that tipping point of the dry heat.

You’re sitting at the table, having polished off one of the meals already and eating the last bits of the other one. It looks like they were boxes with sandwiches, fruit, and vegetables. You’ve left the celery from both servings. He smirks, but he’s glad you’ve eaten. That’s a good sign.

In another attempt at normalcy, desperate to keep things at bay, you push the chair out across the table from you with your foot, nodding for him to sit. You try and engage him in completely normal lines of conversation. He knows what you’re doing. He’ll entertain it for at least a little while so he can assess more of your state and how he should handle it.

He’s more concerned with watching you than listening to what you’re saying. You stand to refill your cup with water, and he follows you to the sink. He reaches into the cupboard and gets a glass of his own, encroaching somewhat into your space very casually. It doesn’t put you on edge, so he eases even closer, as you continue to talk. He puts a hand on your shoulder and leans in to fill his cup with the tap. There’s a slight hitch in your breathing at his proximity. He pushes the teasing of his closeness even more, moving his hand down your arm and resting it on the counter next to yours.

“I know what you need, Omega,” he whispers against the shell of your ear.

He can feel you do everything you can to remain still.

But then you turn your head ever so slightly toward him. “The last time you touched me, you humiliated me.” Your voice is flat.

He doesn’t respond, but he also doesn’t move.

Finally, you ask, “What did they do to you?” your voice barely above a whisper.

The dangerous question comes out of nowhere, and the surge of emotion it evokes in him is immediate. He growls, whipping away, not even thinking before he slams his fists on the table. It splits in two clean pieces. He grabs one before it even falls to the floor and throws it against the wall, smashing it, splinters flying.

He turns back, advancing on you, and you’re already trembling. He doesn’t relent, forcing you up against the wall, caging you in. He pounds his fist into the wall right above your head, and you close your eyes, afraid to move. He can smell the fear in your scent now, but there can be no confusion here.

“No, Omega,” he speaks low, and his other hand moves lightning fast to grip your chin. He can feel your pulse racing beneath his fingers. “Look at me.” You open your eyes. “We aren’t doing that.”

He leaves a beat of silence between you.

“Do you understand?”

You nod.

He drops your chin, then grips the neck of your shirt and yanks, ripping the fabric down the front and jerking you forward, making you bump into his chest. He picks you up and hauls you across the room with a few furious strides to drop you onto one of the armchairs.

You right yourself in the seat as he steps back, but only an arm’s length away. He doesn’t have to use his alpha voice or say the words. He knows the look he gives you communicates his instruction: stay put, don’t move.

He slowly undresses, unfastening, unbuckling, unzipping. He places each article of his dark tactical suit in an orderly pile on the coffee table. It’s purposeful, this tactic. The onset of your heat is only a moment away. You’ve been doing everything in your power to stave it off. Part of him clocks this enormous show of strength and sees it for more than stubbornness, recognizing the discipline and power within you. But this has gone on long enough, he needs you to finally tumble over the edge, and he will push you if he must.

He watches you watching him as he reveals each expanse of naked flesh – arms and torso, legs, and finally his loins when he slips off his boxer briefs. He’s hard for you, of course he is, the pheromones have been flooding out of you, and he wasn’t tempted to touch you in Turin, but now it’s all he can think about. He wants your body supple and pliant, submissive beneath him. He stands above you, looming, imposing – he knows he is, and he wants you to feel that he can do this – and pumps his cock slowly with his own fist.

He does it a few more times, watching you watch him. He sees the small ripple of a shudder you can’t suppress when your breath hitches.

“Undress,” he commands.

Your jaw ticks up. He knows you don’t like it – he felt it the first time he gave you an alpha command, and he hasn’t again until this moment. You look down as you reach behind your back to unclasp your bra and slide it off, dropping it to the floor. You stubbornly refuse to meet his eye since he’s making you do this – he knows it. You hook your thumbs into your waistband, and you push your leggings and underwear down in a slight huff.

“Spread your legs,” he issues another command.

You do, still refusing to meet his eye. Part of it is the irritation over the commands, but he knows part of it is also the trepidation still pulsing through you. He doesn’t want to make this easy for you, but he doesn’t want you to suffer the agony of a dry heat where you’ll be agitated, devoid of slick, in pain, and distressed.

He sinks to his knees between your parted thighs, but now you can’t help but look at him staking his claim there so close to your exposed core. He can see you have a million questions in your eyes, it’s the most you’ve allowed him to glimpse of you – the real you – these past weeks.

He lowers his head, keeping his eyes on yours, and licks a slow, broad stripe from the side of your knee along the soft flesh of your inner thigh. He can feel you tense and hold your breath. And he stops inches from your warm cunt, pulling back and kneeling back on his heels.

You whimper.

He knows he has you now.

“Touch yourself, Omega,” he doles out the third command. He knows how he wants this to play out.

“Don’t make me,” you plead, but your hands are already slowly moving to your center.

“Do it,” he barks, and you flinch.

There’s a little bit of slick between your pussy lips, and he watches you trace a finger slowly over your folds, up and down. You drop your head down and to the side, refusing once more to look at him.

“Omega, have you ever experienced the pain of a dry heat?”

You huff.

“Is that what you want?”

“I want him!” you blurt, and you certainly must not have meant to say it out loud because your hands immediately fly to cover your mouth and your eyes flash to him in fear. And anger. Both are there.

He growls and surges forward to claim your clit between his lips, clamping his hands at the juncture of your thighs to keep your legs open. He sucks hard and flicks his tongue angrily over the little bundle of nerves, drawing a cry from you immediately. Your hands push at his head, but there’s no match for his strength, and he holds your pelvis firmly to his face.

“No, no, no,” you murmur, starting to cry.

He keeps up the furious sucking and flicking, and it’s less than a minute before he feels your whole body seize up, frozen as the first orgasm crashes down on you. Slick begins to seep out in abundance, and he hums in approval, but he doesn’t relent, only changes his tactics. He flattens his tongue and laps at your cunt, letting his tongue slip between your folds and into your hole every two or three licks. It’s less frenzied, but no less insistent, and he rips a second orgasm from you easily. He hums in approval as this time that blissful wave forces you to throw your head and shoulders back, and you land against the back of the armchair, clutching at the rim of it next to your head.

But he won’t relent yet.

He reaches up to cup one of your breasts in his hand, and you moan and push your chest forward for him, head still thrown back, and he imagines your eyes must be shut. He squeezes your breast, then tweaks your nipple, and your breath hitches. He presses his mouth back to your folds and works his lips over your puffy, engorged clit, working slowly this time. He draws his hand away from your breast, and then he slides the fingers that just tweaked your nipple into your tight heat. He pumps slowly, and your hand moves to the back of his head, applying insistent pressure there. He crooks the fingers and strokes along your front wall, and he knows he finds the spot of your undoing when your legs abruptly shift, the left lengthening out, and your right hitching up over his shoulder to press into his back. He doesn’t change a thing now, sucking, pressing. He knows you’re on your way, but he will not hasten this. He wants you to feel every drawn out moment of this – some but not enough of what you need.

Paying attention to every breath above him, every movement of your body, and especially the way your muscles start to squeeze around the fingers he has inside you, he stops just short of your third orgasm.

You whine in protest, but he pushes himself up to stand above you. He grabs your waist and hauls you easily with his preternatural strength up and over his shoulder. You claw at his back, but it’s only a few quick steps for him to be able to throw you down onto the bed.

Your fear from his outburst is long gone, and the face you turn up at him is angry, and you snarl, quickly kneeling up on the bed.

He grasps your chin in his slick-covered hand and looks into your face. “You will beg for me, and only then will I consider whether or not I will touch you again or let you suffer.”

He drops your chin and is already turning away, but you’re lightning fast in reaching for his wrist.

He stops and only inclines his head part of the way to look back at you.

“Take me,” you plead, voice stronger than he expected.

He furrows his brow.

“Please,” you implore.

He turns fully back to you. Perhaps he shouldn’t be as surprised as he is. You’d always been adaptable and clever, and rarely stubborn to your own detriment. You had been stubbornly trying to hold the heat at bay, dangerously so to tempt the dry heat, but he knows this is an extreme circumstance for you, and with the tide turned yet again, he was almost impressed that you had so quickly determined it was worth it to take what you needed.

“Then present,” he says simply.

You turn, moving up to the middle of the bed, but close to the headboard, and kneel on all fours.

He climbs up behind you.

You drop down to your elbows, subjecting yourself to him, omega to alpha.

He takes his cock in his hand and rubs the angry red tip up and down your slick folds. You whimper, and he sees the small shiver that runs down your spine. He sinks his thick length into your tight heat, and you both groan as he fills you for the first time. He doesn’t move once his hips are finally flush against your ass. He breathes in and out, in and out, and watches your measured breaths as well.

He did not know it would be like this.

He reaches forward, grips your shoulder, and pulls you up and back towards him. Your hands move to reach out to steady yourself on the headboard. He presses his fingers into that juncture at your neck where he claimed you, and you keen, throwing your head back. He leans forward and while his right hand stays anchored at your hip, his left strokes that bite again, then moves to hold the front of your neck as he leans down and forward over you. You look up at him, he looks down at you. “You’re fucking mine, Omega,” he growls, your eyes locked.

“Yes, Alpha.”

Then he feels you rock your hips back against his. He smooths his hand down your neck, then presses his lips to your forehead. “You’re mine,” he says again, imprinting the words against your skin.

Then he pulls back and thrusts into you. A few thrusts like that, but as you begin to keen for him, begging for more, he has to drop back and grip your hips with both hands to fuck you. You both come twice – once quickly, and once more very slowly – before you’re boneless beneath him, and he forces you down to the mattress, shifting you to your side and drawing you up against his chest. You whine, but he strokes your arm and promises he’ll give you more once you sleep.

While you sleep in his arms, sticky and sweaty, his mind goes to work.  

It’s not long before you wake again, and you two truly fuck, carnal bleeding with a few moments that are too tender for either of you to acknowledge. But his stamina outmatches yours and he has you exhausted and sleeping again before long.

He’s never taken care of an omega in heat before, and it’s all-consuming, but he stays focused. When you’re awake, he plies your body with pleasure until you cry, keen, moan, scream aloud and silently, and it goes on and off again between sex and sleep all through the day. He’s prepared for your reluctance during the first high phase of the heat to eat or drink anything, but he slips you bits of fruit and nuts as he can, gets you to greedily gulp water only after he pushes it your way insistently. You want his cock, not hydration or nutrition.

A little before midnight the second night, you stretch and yawn waking from another of your short sleeps, and then you roll out of bed and pad to the bathroom. He’s been rooting through some of the cupboards, taking stock of what’s there, and he finishes quickly and follows you into the bathroom after he hears you flush the toilet and then turn on the showerhead. You’re slipping into the shower when he enters the bathroom, and he’s there in time for you to give the silent invitation for him to join you – the expectation, even.

You’re still in heat, but craving a shower lets him know you’ll have enough of your mind back for what needs to happen now.

Things are tenuous, but there’s no denying that this heat has changed things for both of you. He claimed you in Wakanda, but the two of you have bonded through the first thirty hours of this heat in ways neither of you thought possible.

He takes the lathered-up sponge you place in his hands, and he washes your body carefully. Then you take it back, soap it up again, and run it over his skin with the same kind of attention.

He washes your hair, you rinse away the suds, and then he pulls you flush against him. You take his hardening cock in your hand and pump shamelessly. He groans appreciatively, than pushes your back up against the tiles, moves your hands away, and pulls your leg up around his waist so he can enter you. You clutch at his shoulders for stability and moan. He buries his head into the crook of your neck, but he speaks just loud enough for you to hear, “This is the only place I’m sure no one will hear us, but they also need to have no reason to question what’s happening if they’re monitoring.” He moves his hips back and then pumps slowly into you again. “Do you understand?”

“Yes,” you moan, “more, Alpha.”

The corner of his mouth ticks up slightly, though he knows you can’t see it. He tongues his bite at your neck, and you whimper. He gives you another thrust, and you keen.

“I won’t have you anywhere near these Hydra personnel anymore. I don’t trust them.”

The surprised noise that escapes your throat is slightly distressed, and so he speeds up his thrusts a little. “My heat,” you whisper.

“The heat cycle is the only time no one expects me to be anywhere or respond to anyone unless there’s complete catastrophe, and I already reported the onset of your heat last night. They won’t disturb us for a few more days, and they will not expect us to attempt to leave our quarters let alone the facility. If we can manage to get out unnoticed, we will have enough of a head start on time to lose them completely.”

You remain quiet.

“Omega?”

“And go where?”

“You don’t need to know that.”

You push his face away from your neck and push at his chest. “I’m still nothing more than your bait?”

He growls and turns you around so your chest and face are pressed up against the wall.

“I’m still your alpha, and yes my end game is still to draw out the Soldat.”

“Why?”

“I need him.”

He nudges your legs apart and enters you from behind, and you groan as he fills you.

He pulls back, about to enter you again, but then you turn your head, and gasp, “Wait,” in a tone that’s different enough that he does, brow furrowing as he meets your eyes.

“Omega?”

“Tell me what happened to Sam, to you, and I promise I’ll go with you willingly.”

He didn’t think you knew Sam had been with him.

You reach for his head and urge him back to the cradle of your neck.

With more than your words and the gentle action, you’re also entreating him through the bond, he can feel it. It’s powerful. And so he tells you. It only takes him two sentences to tell you what you need to know. Tears stream down your face, and he fucks you then, the fucking he needs for him, not you, but you allow him to take.

go immediately to part three: Carving Through the Dark

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read more from the Dark Forest Fest

[ask-the-koopa-family]

I DECIDED to redesign Bowser and Betty's parents in my AU.

And heres a little story about them.

Art is mine dont copy/repost

In a once divided kingdom, the Koopas lived under various clans, each led by powerful leaders. Morton Koopa, the leader of the Koopa Clan, was a formidable and feared warrior known for his brute strength. Olivia Koopa, head of the other Koopas Clan, was a powerful sorceress renowned for her strategic intelligence. The two clans found themselves at war over control of resource-rich lands, and it was amidst a fierce battle that Morton and Olivia first met.

As the war threatened to destroy both clans, the elders decided to end the conflict through an arranged marriage between Morton and Olivia, a common practice among the Koopas to seal alliances. Though reluctant, Morton and Olivia accepted the decision, understanding their responsibilities. Despite the absence of great love between the two, they developed a deep affection and mutual respect over time.

Of course, from this union was born Bowser and Betty. They were their pride and joy. Bowser, with his fiery temperament and fierce desire to prove his strength, and Betty, gentle and thoughtful, perfectly completed the royal family.

One day Olivia and Morton announced to their children that they had to leave for an important royal meeting. Bowser and Betty were young at that time.

Hours passed and night fell, but Olivia and Morton never returned. The rumors says that on their way back, they had been ambushed by a band of traitors. Despite their bravery, they could not survive the attack.

The loss of their parents was a tremendous shock for Bowser and Betty. Overwhelmed by pain and anger, Bowser swore to protect the kingdom. Betty, though devastated, found the strength to support her brother, reminding him of the values and wisdom their parents had instilled in them.

[icycoldninja]

Could you write a Sephiroth x GN!Yandere reader?

Ooh, a yandere reader fic! I've wanted to write one of these for ages! Thanks for requesting and I hope you enjoy!

Together forever (Sephiroth x GN!Yandere!Reader)

You'd become obsessed with Sephiroth the moment you laid eyes on him. His long, shimmering, silver hair, paired with his lovely, delicate face and those glittering neon green eyes captivated you. Everything about him was pure perfection--as if he were designed just to snatch your attention and hold it, even after he left the room.

You couldn't stop thinking about this gorgeous angel, your mind was constantly fixated on him. The way he moved, the way he spoke, the sound of his voice, all of it was so addictive.

You didn't realize it at first, but your obsession soon evolved into something much more than a mental preoccupation. You started stalking the man, following him around wherever he went, no matter how far away he traveled. You were willing to give up everything for him, forsake your friends, family, fortune, and even your home, if only you could make that man yours.

Sephiroth was well aware you were stalking him, but he never thought much about it because you were just a lowly mortal--you couldn't touch a blessed, all-powerful Chosen One such as himself. Therefore, he let you continue with your creepy behavior, not bothered by it in the slightest.

Not showing concern towards your acts had to be the worst mistake Sephiroth could have ever made, because in doing so, he allowed you an opportunity to break into his hideout one night and ambush him while his back was turned. The normally alert ex-SOLDIER would have usually sensed an intruder, but since he didn't take his not-so-secret admirer seriously, he let his guard down.

Once he found himself with a knife pressed against his throat, Sephiroth, being the arrogant, prideful man he is, still thought of your actions as weak and pathetic. He was so sure he could disarm and decapitate you with ease, but he was quickly proven wrong. For starters, you were way stronger than you looked--it seemed that your obsession with him resulted in you working out and gaining quite a lot of muscle. Not only that, but you had clearly been taking martial arts and weapon weilding lessons, as the way you held your knife was nothing short of expert.

"What do you think you are doing?" He demanded, struggling, for the first time in his life, to escape your grip.

"Hush my darling," You cooed, running your fingers across his smooth, supple skin that felt oh-so-lovely under your fingertips. "Don't be afraid. I'm here now--now we can be together, forever."

Sephiroth squirmed in your hold, seething with rage. He knew you were crazy, but to think you'd have the audacity to hold him at knifepoint to mumble some nonsense about being together!? As if! He'd like to think he could do better than you.

Deep down, however, there was a little spark of excitement that resonated throughout Sephiroth's core, waking up the cold, numb heart that had lumbered in his chest for so long. To be controlled and dominated like this was an entirely new experience for him, and perhaps, if you played your cards right, it would become something he could enjoy, especially if you meant what you said.

A small smile appeared on his face as you lightly dragged your blade across his throat, barely grazing the skin with the metal.

"Together forever?" He repeated, green eyes glinting with mischief. "Can you really keep that promise?"

Giddiness spreading through your body at the possibility of your dreams becoming reality, you placed a hand on Sephiroth's angelic face and turned his head so he was facing you.

"Yes, I swear it with my life," You told him. "And my knife." You noticed the smile on Sephiroth's face looked softer and warmer than his usual evil smirk. It seemed the prospect of having a constant companion was appealing to him in ways beyond carnal needs.

"I promise," You repeated, turning him so he faced you and throwing your arms around his shoulders. "I promise we will be together forever."

Slowly, tenatively, fearfully, Sephiroth's arms came up andaround you, reciprocating your hug.

"That...is all I need."

[thegoldenavenger]

You heard of Shen Yuan fingering Liu Qingge's gills for 3k, now introducing Shen Jiu fisting Liu Qingge's gills for 7k. I'm not even sorry. It was not supposed to go there. Unbetad as always.

Cw: sexually explicit, dom/sub overtones, underdiscussed uhhh everything. Bad fantasy medical practices, what can be interpreted as aelf harm I guess. Also bugs and parasites. The whole thing is bugs and parasites. And gill play.

"You insipid little clownfish," Shen Qingqiu hisses between his fangs, "I knew you were acting suspicious."

Liu Qingge shuts his operculum down tight, suppressing his wince. He should have been far enough away from the main reef to avoid this confrontation, shadowed in a protective cup of coral and sunken debris to avoid prying eyes. Importantly, he'd swam this far away from Cang Qiong territory specifically to avoid other mers of his school.

"It's none of your business." He twists to face Shen Qingqiu properly, squaring his body to him. He debates on whether to drop the kelp in his hands or not: Shen Qingqiu has already seen so it's useless anyways, but having his inflamed gills showing under Shen Qingqiu's sharp gaze is not ideal.

"Yes," Shen Qingqiu gives a condescending laugh, "And what shall I tell Yue Qingyuan when he comes back to the reef to find a school full of sick, infected—"

"I'm isolating well enough I wouldn't—" Liu Qingge's fins flare on instinct and he snarls flashing his teeth when Shen Qingqiu is suddenly in his space, his serpentine body eating the distance between them in a burst of power.

"Wouldn't what?" The frilled fins around Shen Qingqiu's face are spread wide and angry, the inky cloud of his hair floats in the ambient current of the waters like a dark halo. Shen Qingqiu's tail is nearly twice as long as Liu Qingge is himself and it's coiled threateningly underneath them both.

His long, sinuous body is built for punishing ambush speeds and power. Being this close and compromised itches at Liu Qingge and he can't help the wary glare he throws across Shen Qingqiu's form. He doesn't move though, even if Shen Qingqiu grew a spine enough to attack him face to face, Liu Qingge can defeat him. Liu Qingge has never lost a fight with Shen Qingqiu, even when the eel does ambush him in the dark waters of the reef's night.

"Would never host a breeding pair of—" here Shen Qingqiu's cold eyes rake over the flushed edges of Liu Qingge's gill covers, "—flathead gill worms?"

"There's not a breeding pair!" Liu Qingge defends himself. For all his pride, he'd rather swim off the edge of the trench and sink into the black depths before opening his school up to such a risky situation. He'd managed to claw the other one out before the pair had burrowed deep enough into his gills that he couldn't get a good enough angle, and he'd delighted in shredding the thing. "I already removed one."

"Then you got the wrong one! This inflamed I should think the thing has already laid it's insidious spawn and you're just an ink sack waiting to burst on all of us."

Liu Qingge hisses again, under Shen Qingqiu's furious face, but he can't help the twist of shame in his gut pinning his fins against the edges of his face. "It's not that—I have been taking care of it!" Shen Qingqiu scoffs in disbelief and Liu Qingge raises his voice. "I have! I've been packing my gills to suffocate it out. That's why they're irritated."

When Shen Qingqiu doesn't reply he forces himself to take a cycle of water through the gills at his neck. Small as they are, it's not very satisfying and the drag of water puts a pressure on them they weren't necessarily built to handle on their own, but the worm had settled in his fourth gill, so this is what he has to work with.

"If it weren't gone by the time Yue Qingyuan returned I would have gone to Mu Qingfang."

Shen Qingqiu lashes his tail at that, angrily churning the water beneath them. He turns with it, swimming a short distance away before coming back in an agitated circle of movement. "How did you even pick them up, they're only in—"

Shen Qingqiu falls silent and Liu Qingge represses the urge to laugh. He bares his teeth in a half smile, half snarl instead. "The western ship wreck?" He says, like he's offering the information Shen Qingqiu might have forgotten. As if Shen Qingqiu had forgotten exactly where he'd assigned Liu Qingge to patrol the moment Yue Qingyuan and his entourage had left Cang Qiong's reef boundary.

If Liu Qingge had been able to go with the traditional three-pod team one of the others might have been able to spot the danger in Liu Qingge's blind spot while he'd been focused on fighting off the juvenile colossal squid. If not that, they'd have been able to grab the offending little worms before they'd gotten all the way under his operculum. Shen Qingqiu had held back no theatrics when he pressed that the school was just so short finned with Yue Qingyuan away.

"I truly have erred," Liu Qingge says, lofty. "Thanking Shen Qingqiu for correcting me, I should have reported to Mu Qingfang immediately. With Shen Qingqiu's permission I will correct that now."

He doesn't actually make a move, though the way Shen Qingqiu's tail twitches as if to block his way makes him grin, fangs glinting. Shen Qingqiu glares and pulls back from his threatening curl; message well enough recieved. If Liu Qingge had gone to Mu Qingfang, Mu Qingfang would have asked what Liu Qingge was doing in the shipwreck alone and Shen Qingqiu's abuse of power would have gotten back to Yue Qingyuan.

Yue Qingyuan wouldn't do anything drastic about it, of course, nothing more than a scolding at least. But Shen Qingqiu's thin face could barely handle that, it seemed.

"What are you using?" Shen Qingqiu asks, breaking the tense quiet between them.

"Salt." The thick kind from the dead basin, the saltwater so dense there you could cup it in your palm, so toxic that fish who swam unthinking through it fell dead before reaching a tail length in. It burns the delicate edges of skin around his claws let alone his gills, but diluted enough he would live through it and the worm wouldn't.

Shen Qingqiu moves in again, sharp, and Liu Qingge does jerk back this time, swirling a burst of bubbles between them with the fast movement of his tail.

"Let me look. Leaving salt burns is just as bad." He glares at Liu Qingge, his dark hair framing his face making the jet chips of his eyes seem bigger. The little shining crown of shells and scales he wears glitters.

"Hah," Liu Qingge scoffs, then pauses under Shen Qingqiu's sustained glare. "As if I'd let you so near!" he says, his arm automatically moving to shield his gills.

"Mm," Shen Qingqiu's eyes go half-lidded, condescending in their relaxation. "Of course, if the War God is afraid of this scholar I will be more than happy to let you rot here by yourself."

The worm takes that moment to wriggle, the hard edges of its segmented body clipping the thin filaments of his gills. He makes a face that must be interesting because Shen Qingqiu loses his perpetual sneer in favor of a calculating focus. Shen Qingqiu sweeps the coil of his dark tail behind Liu Qingge, the movement buffering them closer with the water displacement.

"Let me look." Shen Qingqiu demands again, voice even and cool.

He doesn't look concerned, nothing like the professional consideration Mu Qingfang displays when Liu Qingge swims up to him with another injury, and nothing at all like the gentle empathy Yue Qingyuan sometimes casts his way when he decides debriefing is more important than visiting the healing beds. But he also doesn't have the sneaky, scummy cast to his face that normally rests there.

Shen Qingqiu looks even keeled, composed. The model of a senior who can be turned to when someone more specialized isn't available. Shen Qingqiu has never been someone Liu Qingge particularly trusts, is not even at the bottom of his list of people he would let close to him for help, but Shen Qingqiu is part of Cang Qiong's school.

He lifts his arm away from his gills.

Shen Qingqiu comes closer slowly, the stalking movement not at all helping Liu Qingge's nerves, but he can at least acknowledge that something quicker would be worse. Shen Qingqiu first rests the pad of his fingers against the inflamed edge of Liu Qingge's gill flap, making a face at the grit of the salt sticking to them.  His fingers are cold against Liu Qingge's skin, even more so than the ambient temperature of the ocean.

It could be just Shen Qingqiu's nature, he does run cooler than most of the other reef mers, but Liu Qingge has traded enough wrestling blows with him to catch the difference. Liu Qingge is running hotter than normal, his innate defense against illnesses jacking up his core temperature. He hadn't noticed.

"Messy," Shen Qingqiu chides under his breath as he brushes the clinging granules of salt away from his gills. "Open up, let me see."

Liu Qingge swallows before relaxing his tense muscles, letting his gills open and cycle fresh water. The cloud of denser salt water he'd been holding in seeps out and falls between the two of them.  Shen Qingqiu makes a noise just this side of neutral.

He lets himself drift lower, Liu Qingge guesses to get a better look, sinking in a parallel to the salt water. Liu Qingge tracks his slow descent.

Shen Qingqiu stares, his tail coiled around them both, his hand framing the open gill slit. His hair billows in the water, the loose tie it is bound with doing nothing to keep it contained. The silky black cloud of hair obscures Liu Qingge's view, his eyes catching on the sparkling, vain crown decorating Shen Qingqiu's head, following the delicate waving hair, glancing along the dark patterned coils of Shen Qingqiu's tail.

He feels warmer, noticing these things. Not for the first time, but the first time in a long, long while. Since Yue Qingyuan first brought the eel to Cang Qiong, probably. Before Shen Qingqiu opened his mouth and spit venom enough to distract from his long, shiny hair and his smooth flank.

It'd been so easy, at first, to understand Yue Qingyuan's bias. Shen Qingqiu had hovered at Yue Qingyuan's side, a portrait of striking contrast, a study of shell white and ink black and jade. His fins had been—still are, where they are covered by layers of diaphanous billowing material—tattered but far from weak the angle he'd held them at fanned the frayed edges like a crown themselves.

A threat, an invitation.

Too bad his temperament turned out to be so rotten, then, lashing out at even Yue Qingyuan. Spitting vitriol against any percieved slight and clawing desperately in even the most benign of spars.

Shen Qingqiu taps his finger idly as he observes.

Liu Qingge can't see, but his hand must be covering most of his side; Shen Qingqiu's finger is so close to his third gill which carries the reminder of what letting Shen Qingqiu under his guard can do. 

"You've burned yourself already." Shen Qingqiu finally says. "You'll recover but less so the longer you keep filling yourself with this concentration of salt."

Liu Qingge huffs. "Any less and it won't work."

"It's almost as if salt baths aren't the recommended procedure any more for a reason."

"Do you want me to go to Mu Qingfang or not."

The grip on Liu Qingge's side tightens as Shen Qingqiu looks up and glares at him. There's the lightest of sneers on his face, annoyance at the question. The lift of his lip shows a wicked curved fang. His mouth is only a few handspans away from Liu Qingge's gills.

Likely, Shen Qingqiu won't bite him.

Liu Qingge has been bitten by those teeth before, the long, needle like fangs sharp and piercing. They're meant for gripping onto wriggling prey as he slinks back into hiding, afterall. Nothing at all like Liu Qingge's own set of teeth, knife like, for wounding and tearing.

Shen Qingqiu has even drawn blood from Liu Qingge's gills before, getting his venomous claws under his third gill flap and tearing. He can feel it like a phantom now: the cruel edge of nail slicing through the flesh at his side.

Shen Qingqiu tilts his head at whatever he sees in Liu Qingge's face, furrowing his brow by the smallest of degrees. Liu Qingge blinks.

"Brute." Shen Qingqiu spits, rolling his eyes. He sways away from Liu Qingge, that intimate hand span opening up between them.

Liu Qingge bristles, but without knowing what he'd done this time to set Shen Qingqiu off, refrains from returning the insult.

"Well?" He demands instead. "What has looking got you?" His tail lashes at the water and he crosses his arms. The cool water replacing Shen Qingqiu's body sends a shiver through him that he resolutely ignores. Shen Qingqiu needs to offer a solution or go away and let Liu Qingge take care of it. At this rate, Liu Qingge is going to be quarantined for an entire moon cycle, riding through the parasite shed and his budding fever.

Shen Qingqiu sways in the water, the disconetent mou on his face shading towards disgusted as he observes Liu Qingge. He wants to bristle under the weight of that stare; he knows that Shen Qingqiu is looking at him and dissatisfied with what he sees.

He isn't self conscious, nor particularly vain, but he supposes it's easy to be that way when everyone around finds you handsome enough. All the mer in the reef eyeing the length and shine of his tail don't affect him as much as Shen Qingqiu deliberately scanning him head to fluke and then finding him wanting.

Him!

As if Shen Qingqiu has anything to brag about! His hair is long and smooth, waving like kelp in the loosely bound style he prefers to make himself look larger, but that's because the vain man spends half his day preening and grooming like a flirting lionfish! The long, muscled form of his tail he keeps curled up unless threatened, the dappled patterned fading away into the reef's shadows. He distracts from his scars and torn fins with layers of gauzy material, woven and beaded netting, prized scales from trophy hunts, like he's ashamed of the proof of his survival.

Liu Qingge tilts his chin up, his facial fins spreading arrogantly, and meets Shen Qingqiu's gaze with his own glare.

Shen Qingqiu turns calculating.

"I'll remove it."

Liu Qingge's fins flare up all at once, his tail even curling in warning. "Hah?" The exclamation is more out of disbelief than anything else.

"Are you a guppy now? Do you need me to rephrase for your jellyfish brain?"

"If it's that bad I will just go to Mu Qingfang!" Mu Qingfang has only ever snapped his teeth in warning, never actually bitten Liu Qingge. Looking was one thing, Shen Qingqiu can't actually think Liu Qingge would let him—

"I'm sure Mu Qingfang will love you showing up with salt burns and a parasite days after you should have. Forget the healing beds, he'll seal you up in the sea dragon cave himself. At least I'll have some peace and quiet then."

Liu Qingge should call Shen Qingqiu's bluff.

Liu Qingge should have bent his head and gone to Mu Qingfang first thing, but getting caught unaware by worms of all things... well. He'd thought he could take care of it on his own, the puckering little scratches the squid had left on him more than enough to distract anyone from noticing anything else. Whatever embarrassment he'd felt then is compacted doubly so now,

Being sealed up in the Sea Dragon cave for quarantine and spiritual healing this late into everything meant he'd still be shut away when Yue Qingyuan returned. Shen Qingqiu shouldn't have withheld a proper pod formation from Liu Qingge, but the blame for this would rest squarely on Liu Qingge regardless. First of all, there's little guarantee he'd have even taken a pod in the first place. He likes patrolling alone. Second, it was his decision to hide his affliction and try to take care of it himself.

There's always the possibility the worms had a chance to spawn and he's a been a potential swimming vector for infection for as long as he's been back at the reef.

Shen Qingqiu hums, a patronizing little sound as Liu Qingge wilts under the guilt.

"You aren't going back to the reef until it's gone." Shen Qingqiu declares. "Either let me take it out now or wait for me to send Mu Qingfang here."

Liu Qingge's fins twitches. "Did it spawn?"

Shen Qingqiu draws out the silence before he responds, probably enjoying Liu Qingge's blanching face. He finally clicks his tongue. "I didn't see anything like that. Still, the risk is too high without being sure."

Liu Qingge fights his instinct to curl and instead straightens out the length of his body. "Fine." He grits out, turning his head to glare into the distance.

"Fine, what?"

He hisses and clenches his fist in affront. Like Shen Qingqiu doesn't know!

"Really, Liu Qingge expects me to assume and then get accused later of malicious intent?" Shen Qingqiu pitches his voice higher than normal, like he's explaining a complex problem to one of the fry he teaches. "I won't go near you unless you ask."

It's Liu Qingge's turn to flick his tail and vent his irritation by swimming in tight circle. Shen Qingqiu watches him cooly as he laps around again, and again. It doesn't do anything but make his gills itch more at the exertion.

He finally slows in front of Shen Qingqiu, who raises a thin eyebrow in an expectant arch.

"Fine! Shen Qingqiu! Help me get it out!" He demands in a burst of bubbles.

"Of course," Shen Qingqiu says, magnanimous. He stays still, though, and it's a long, awkward moment before Liu Qingge realises that he's waiting for Liu Qingge.

"You! I already said to help! Come here!" His face feels far too warm for this and he closes his eyes to block Shen Qingqiu's smug face from his vision.

With his eyes closed he feels it more keenly as Shen Qingqiu draws closer, the currents shifting with the bulk of his body. He tries bearing it for as long as he can, but flicks his eyes open when Shen Qingqiu gets within a tail length.

"Move," Shen Qingqiu abandons his wordier inclination when he finally gets close enough to touch. He bats at Liu Qingge's arm so that he lifts it away from his gills before holding his hand out lengthwise against Liu Qingge's side.

"What..." he says before trailing off, because with the dark flash of Shen Qingqiu's eyes Liu Qingge suddenly understands.

Measuring.

Shen Qingqiu's hands are not a significantly different size than Liu Qingge's own. In fact, they're more slender, the joints in them fine and well shaped. But held against him like this they look twice their actual size. When Shen Qingqiu stretches out his fingers, Liu Qingge's muscle flinches where they graze against his skin.

"Hold still," Shen Qingqiu orders, "And hold these wider." Liu Qingge does, struck with the thought of the spur at Shen Qingqiu's wrist catching on the lip of his operculum. He stretches the barrel of his chest, flexing open his gills to their limit, but furrows his brows as he watches the black claws of Shen Qingqiu's hand.

"Your venom," the words fall out of his mouth softer than he intends them to be.

"Mm." Shen Qingqiu looks at his claws.

It's his spurs that are venomous, not his claws or his fangs, but Shen Qingqiu habitually spreads the viscous oil along his nails and lips. It's an irritant at that level more than dangerous, but Liu Qingge isn't keen to have any more of Shen Qingqiu inside him than necessary.

Shen Qingqiu delicately brings his claws to his mouth and laps around the hardened black tips of them. Liu Qingge's own mouth drops open as Shen Qingqiu licks the venom from his nails, wiping them clean with flashes of surprisingly pink tongue. He watches as Shen Qingqiu swallows and studies his hand before he looks back up.

His sneer resettles when he sees Liu Qingge's face. "This? Really?" He asks, condescension dripping through his words.

"What." Liu Qingge bites back. He jerks his head, "Stop—" showing off? Liu Qingge ignores the buzzing heat under his skin, the fever no doubt clouding his brain, "Just get on with it."

"You were the one so concerned," Shen Qingqiu says, but he does slip his hand back to Liu Qingge's side. He sinks down so that he's eye level with Liu Qingge's open gill flaps, studying them with the same intensity as before. His splays one hand underneath Liu Qingge's bottom most gill, the other hand against his side, thumb resting against his third gill.

His hair again wafts around him, veiling Shen Qingqiu's sharp expression from Liu Qingge. He looks up and away, at the dancing lights up at surface.

"Hmm, what's this?" Shen Qingqiu's thumb has found the edge of the scar there, the one that should have healed clean but clotted because of Shen Qingqiu's poison. It is slim enough to be nearly invisible from an appropriate distance. Shen Qingqiu is not at an appropriate distance. Liu Qingge feels him slot the tip of his claw at the edge of the scar, feels him follow it down its path across Liu Qingge's skin to where it slips inside him.

"Shen Qingqiu!" He forces out between his grit teeth. He's holding himself so tense now that his tail is twitching with it. His hands flex where he has them raised, hovering over Shen Qingqiu's head. Shen Qingqiu doesn't even acknowledge him, just hooks his thumb under Liu Qingge's gill flap without preamble, making the same tugging motion he'd done to make the damn scar in the first place.

"Shen—" his words break off into a warning hiss as he jerks backwards. He pushes Shen Qingqiu automatically, one hand knocking at his face and the other at his shoulder to create distance.

"Don't move!" Shen Qingqiu orders, his tail curling ominous behind Liu Qingge's back, boxing him in, and his other hand digging in to hold on. His claws aren't especially gentle with it, five points pricking into Liu Qingge's skin enough to draw a bead of blood each. The thumb hooked under his gill flattens enough to avoid tearing at least, and Liu Qingge steadies himself.

As soon as he stops pushing Shen Qingqiu backs away, contrary as always. His lips are pulled back in a snarl and he fusses at the mess Liu Qingge had made of his hair.

"Brute," he condemns.

"Don't just stick your hand in!" Liu Qingge cries, full of offense.

"And how am I supposed to get that worm out without sticking my hand in?" Shen Qingqiu blows a frustrated stream of bubbles, a shockingly childish move for him.

Liu Qingge forces a cycle of water through his gills to calm down. This time able to draw in water from his neck and pass it down to flush out at his sides. He can feel the foreign parasite sway inside him with the water's movement. It scuttles. Liu Qingge bites his lip.

"I— Try again." He demands. "I won't move this time."

Shen Qingqiu scoffs and tosses his hair. "You're not worth this much trouble. Getting Mu Qingfang involved would be less tiresome."

That doesn’t—Liu Qingge does not feel any way about that. His stomach does not swoop. It's nothing different then Shen Qingqiu's usual shameless critiques, his hypocritical insults. Just because Liu Qingge is feverish and had let Shen Qingqiu get under his guard—

"You already said you'd help!" He works on not curling in on himself, instead shifting uncomfortably as his gills flex. The flathead gill worm—if that's what it was—seems to spread out as his gills relax to a natural position. Without its partner and with the repeated dosing of salt it's been acting more agitated, writhing through his gill structure in increasingly distracting ways.

"I said I wouldn't be accused of something malicious later. I'm not letting Yue Qingyuan or Mu Qingfang accuse me of ambushing you just because you can't stay still and get clawed up!"

"I'll tell them—"

"That I was only helping? You'd get us both checked for brain worms. You'd be better off letting them believe whatever they came up with, like you usually do."

He clenches his jaw as Shen Qingqiu's tail curls over itself, agitated and jumpy. Shen Qingqiu isn't wrong, if Liu Qingge jumped to his defense the entire reef would think he was posessed. In his defense, Shen Qingqiu is usually in the wrong and with Yue Qingyuan unwilling to put any pressure on him, Liu Qingge was one of the only ones who would call him out, for whatever little good that did.

"I won't move." He repeats instead.

"Tch." Shen Qingqiu turns his back.

But he stays, so be doesn't really want to leave Liu Qingge to Mu Qingfang's care. Or at least, he doesn't want to deal with the messy fallout that would cause more than he doesn't want to deal with Liu Qingge. Does he want to be coaxed? Liu Qingge is bad at negotiating.

He swims in a crescent around Shen Qingqiu so they face each other again. He can't think of anything to say except to repeat himself so he does again.

"Yes, you clearly did so well the first time."

"Then what do you want me to do?" He asks. "You'd just startled me. I won't be caught unprepared again."

"I'm not letting your hands anywhere near me." Shen Qingqiu says. Hippocritical, considering that Liu Qingge wasnt the one to scratch anyone, but this means Shen Qingqiu will try again. So Liu Qingge nods.

He raises his hands, but Shen Qingqiu shakes his head sharply. "No, behind your back."

"Fine." He hesitates though, before folding his dorsal fin down and clasping his arms behind him. Without the large fin catching the current he sinks in the water. His small anterior fins flap, useless in trying to tread the waters.

Before he can give up and break position to rebalance himself or sink much further, Shen Qingqiu curls his tail under Liu Qingge, stopping him.

"Better," Shen Qingqiu says, curling around him. Liu Qingge follows his movements as far as he can, before Shen Qingqiu slips behind him.

"Hey—"

"This is a better angle," Shen Qingqiu says, "And I don't trust you to keep your hands to yourself. Stay still."

Liu Qingge subsides as Shen Qingqiu hooks his chin over his shoulder. His tail loops around Liu Qingge, curling tight in a way uniquely suited to his eel body. The thick flex of muscle stabilizes him, but it also makes his heart beat faster, the threat of letting an ambush predator so close, to sneak up behind him, hanging palpable in the water.

Then Shen Qingqiu wraps his arms around Liu Qingge's sides, his fingers encouraging the gill flap to lift open more, holding it out just a bit further than it's supposed to go.

"Ah—" he cuts himself off, unsure of what he was going to say. Stop? Of course not, he needs that worm out even by Shen Qingqiu's hand. Be careful? Shen Qingqiu would either be careful or not, any platitude Liu Qingge gives is less than useless and more likely to turn Shen Qingqiu sharp.

"Quiet," Shen Qingqiu says anyways, "Don't distract me."

Liu Qingge focuses on being still and not the cool fan of water against his skin where Shen Qingqiu's gills work.

There's a pause and then, "Brace yourself, if you must." Before clever fingers slip under his inflamed operculum and slide two, three knuckles inside with a smooth motion. He flinches, reflex, but throttles any further motion. His hands clench into fists behind his back, something Shen Qingqiu can surely feel, plastered to him as he is.

Shen Qingqiu doesn't give Liu Qingge any more mercy than that first brief warning. He stretches his fingers, feeling the structure of the gills settled inside Liu Qingge, curling them to get a feel for the space. They're cold against the heated flush of his skin. He crooks his fingers through the fine filaments of Liu Qingge's gill structure and he itches, the prodding of Shen Qingqiu's fingers leaving a trail of hypersensitive tingling.

He twitches, his gill flaps trying to flinch closed. It's almost ticklish, the way Shen Qingqiu combs his claws through the thin strings of his gills. The hand Shen Qingqiu is using to hold him open pinches at him, and Shen Qingqiu makes a warning noise in his throat.

It vibrates through the water and settles somewhere in Liu Qingge's spine, and he stills.

"Sorry," he breathes and forces himself to pull his shoulders back. It draws him like a bow, arching so that his gills are forced to flare open a bit more. "I'm staying still."

At this, Shen Qingqiu stops his own movements, going eerily quiet and still behind him.

Liu Qingge belatedly remembers he'd been ask to be quiet and frowns. A questioning noise slips out from the back of his throat before he cuts himself off. When Shen Qingqiu still doesn't restart, he casts a  strained look out of the corner of his eye.

He can't see much, just his own chest and Shen Qingqiu's pale arms against him, and the ink black of Shen Qingqiu's hair unfurling around them.

He resists squirming.

Is he still doing something wrong? He can't be, Shen Qingqiu delights in correcting him with the most venomous of words at the smallest provocation. He wouldn't just let Liu Qingge flounder when he could instead verbally flay into him. He bites his lip, just to bleed off the unusual anxious energy and instead let's himself sink into his body the way he does before hunts.

He knows what he needs to do: stay still, be quiet. He's already let Shen Qingqiu this far, questioning it at this point is a little too late for use.

It's the correct choice because Shen Qingqiu starts moving again. He doesn't acknowledge Liu Qingge, which is right of him. He is focusing on something.

Shen Qingqiu pushes his hand deeper into Liu Qingge, until his fingers are fully sheathed in Liu Qingge's gill cavity. The meat of his palm stretches the mouth around it, and he knocks into the gill arches when he moves.  He isn't particularly gentle about it, caring little about Liu Qingge's comfort as he flexes and reaches further.

He spreads his fingers out, pushing the curved back of his claws into the inflamed walls of Liu Qingge's irritated cavity. It burns, both the stretch at Shen Qingqiu's palm and the insistent prod of his fingers. Liu Qingge draws water in, flushing it through his gills trying to cool the heated flesh. Instead the water streams around Shen Qingqiu's fingers, whirling into little eddies, curling back through his gills and tangling his filaments.

"Do that again," Shen Qingqiu says, voice cold. "Keep up a steady flow; it will encourage the worm out."

He does, gulping the water and pushing it through in repeated cycles, each new rush rippling inside of him, dashing off Shen Qingqiu's hand and tearing through the sensitive, fevered and salt burned flesh. His throat clicks with it, the feeling of churning inside him, like a basin being worn deeper with every tide. Shen Qingqiu grunts by his ear, an annoyed noise as he sharply jerks his fingers but catches nothing.

He pulls out in a swift long motion, leaving Liu Qingge feeling hollowed, scooped out in the wake of Shen Qingqiu's hand. He makes an involuntary noise as his gill flap tries to close. Shen Qingqiu keeps it held open, peeling it back even more.

"Ah—Shen—" he starts but Shen Qingqiu cuts him off.

"Brace, Liu Qingge. I need to reach deeper." His voice is still passive, aloof even. Liu Qingge feels almost dizzy, the influx of oxygen from the rapid cycling through his gills making him heady. He can feel, in a distant kind of way, the flathead worm curling inside him.  The lip of his gill feels puffy and tight, still burning from the salt water treatment and where it rubbed tight against Shen Qingqiu's hand.

Deeper? There couldn't be much room left in the space inside him.

Shen Qingqiu plunges his hand back between the splayed lips of Liu Qingge's gill slit catching again at the thickest part of his palm. It feels like he tries to flatten his hand out to narrow it, but his fingers knock hard into the gill arches inside, jostling straight through Liu Qingge, shuddering up his spine and sending a prickling tingle through his scalp.

His breath catches and he clacks his teeth, choking on a noise. He doesn't quite choke up on the full body flinch, jolting Shen Qingqiu against him again. The fat stretch of Shen Qingqiu's palm at his gill, Shen Qingqiu's fingers twitching in surprise at his sudden movement, the uncomfortable sway of the worm deeper inside him, Liu Qingge jerks, caught on the hook of Shen Qingqiu's hand.

His body slips out of his control, wriggling to pull away, the overwhelming glut of sensation inside him shoving him out of his senses. He thinks he's making noise—embarrassing to be be whining so close to Shen Qingqiu—but he's barely cognizant of it as he flicks his tail and tries to spread his fins.

Weight envelops him, almost suffocating, as he writhes and jerks. He'd closed his eyes at some point in his tossing, trying to cut off at least one overwhelmed sense.  Gradually the weight increases and he becomes aware of his heaving gills, struggling to keep up with his breath. He swallows, deliberately slows his breathing, let's his awareness rise back up.

The weight is Shen Qingqiu bearing down on him in all ways: his arms locked tight, his tail coiled in several loops, his chin digging into Liu Qingge's shoulder. His hand is curled into a tight fist, stretching Liu Qingge's gill painfully. But his claws are tucked neatly away from Liu Qingge's delicate viscera.

His heart still pounds but he can hear a rattling growl over it. Beside him. The deep rumble from Shen Qingqiu's chest is mostly vibration in the water, with just enough sibilant hiss to prick at Liu Qingge's skin.

"You'll stay still, will you?"

Something plunges to the pit of Liu Qingge's stomach at Shen Qingqiu's tone. "I—"

"You can't stay quiet, either?" Liu Qinnge snaps his jaw shut hard enough the clack is audible in the water.

Liu Qingge isn't a fresh faced fry, to quail under Shen Qingqiu's disappointment, but it chokes him anyway. Shen Qingqiu's fist tight against his opening and the suffocating press of his tail coiled around him have Liu Qingge desperate. What for he isn't quite sure but it has him biting his tongue.

He leans back in Shen Qingqiu's grip, displaying the long line of his neck by dropping his head against Shen Qingqiu's shoulder. It's to accomodate the backwards arch he needs to flex open his gills just that bit more, lacking the privilege to use his hands to pry himself open more effectively. Failing to stay still or keep quiet, the least he can offer is stretching himself out and open for Shen Qingqiu. To make it easy for him.

He strains as he tenses his operculum, holding it splayed and curled open. He leverages himself against the loop of Shen Qingqiu's tail, even, to push the barrel of his torso up into Shen Qingqiu's hand.

He stays resolutely quiet.

Shen Qingqiu stops growling at least.

He turns his face towards the column of Liu Qingge's throat, nose brushing against his facial fin. It's an awkward position, but Liu Qingge tries shifting it out of Shen Qingqiu's way, holding it pinned back and lifted.

There's absolutely no reason to give Shen Qingqiu this much leave, this close to his neck. The worm won't migrate to the smaller gill cavity there and letting Shen Qingqiu so close is an actively bad idea.

Liu Qingge tilts his head anyways.

If Shen Qingqiu bites it's the least admonishment he'd deserve.

Shen Qingqiu clicks his tongue, hooking his chin back over Liu Qingge's shoulder.  He uncurls the fist he'd made, pressing inexorably forward. Then he rocks his hand back, letting Liu Qingge's gill tug with the motion. He keeps his fingers lax and his wrist stiff as he pushes and pulls his hand like waves lapping at the shoreline. With each withdrawal Liu Qingge feels his gill stretching a little more, and with each press in, Shen Qingqiu's hand advances.

Liu Qingge bows back more, trying to help, trying to ease the pressure of Shen Qingqiu plugging him so full, when finally something gives and Shen Qingqiu's hand slips past the ring of Liu Qingge's gill, burying itself fully inside Liu Qingge's thoracic cage.

Liu Qingge gasps.

Each breath feels shorted now, trying to work past the mass of Shen Qingqiu's hand. He recalls Shen Qingqiu telling him to brace. Deeper? Still? Any deeper and Shen Qingqiu will be reaching into his throat. Any deeper and he will be holding Liu Qingge's rapidly beating heart in his palm.

His hand is so big. And cool: a block of ice inside him, right at his core. His hand is intrusive, making the gill arches bend to accomdate it's heavy presence. His nails are so sharp, Liu Qingge can almost feel them tickling at the individual lamellae lining each filament. Evened bent as far back as he is, his operculum half shutters, tensing against Shen Qingqiu's blessedly slim wrist. It reminds him of the spur there, at the joint.

Sharp and actually dangerous, in the real way Shen Qingqiu's threat displays often lack, the venomous spine at his wrist rubs at Liu Qingge's skin. Shen Qingqiu really can't go any further or he'll tear Liu Qingge on the way out.

"What now?" Shen Qingqiu asks, and Liu Qingge realises he's made a noise so indescribable he is just going to forget that it came out of him.

He doubts Shen Qingqiu actually wants an answer, and even if he does, Liu Qingge is not going to attempt to articulate the thoughts swimming in his head. He doesn't even understand fully himself. It's just the cool threat of Shen Qingqiu, his teeth so close to his neck, the venom so close to his gills, the long coil of his tail wrapped tight around him.

Shen Qingqiu doesn't push for an answer. No longer needing to hold Liu Qingge open, his free hand hooks around Liu Qingge's collar. Some tension eases out of Liu Qingge. Shen Qingqiu can pull him back, now, if he untenses from his bowed posture.

"Cycle again," Shen Qingqiu commands.

Liu Qingge does so, switching from passively letting water through his gills to sucking it down and forcing it through his system. It feels like breathing around a rock. He does it again.

Shen Qingqiu hums lightly as the water buffets against his hand. It is settled in the open cavity of Liu Qingge's gills like it's made a home there. Like Shen Qingqiu has remolded the very shape of Liu Qingge to fit inside of him. Shen Qingqiu doesn't move his hand, not even a twitch, and at once Liu Qingge is grateful and longing.

If Shen Qingqiu had kept rocking his hand in that rhythmic undulation he'd used to get inside, surely Liu Qingge wouldn't have been able to withstand it. Even the water rushing through his gills teeters on the edge of too much. It would surely feels as though Shen Qingqiu were punching through him. But his tail tenses and relaxes in an echo of that same rhythm, held tight as it is by Shen Qingqiu.

It presses his scales against the smoothe hide of Shen Qingqiu's porous skin. It is almost the same motion as breathing, an imitation of the swelling waves. A heartbeat, between them.

"If you come," Shen Qingqiu says, startling Liu Qingge, "Do not come on me."

His voice is as cool and distant as ever, the perpetual shade of disgust veneering it. Liu Qingge lifts his head to glance down, sees Shen Qingqiu buried to his wrist inside him, and groans, closing his eyes. Shen Qingqiu scoffs at him.

His arm slides away from Liu Qingge's neck, slipping down the length of his body, past his chest, past his gills, down below—

Liu Qingge opens his eyes and jerks his head down sharply.  His claspers are embarrassingly engorged, standing out of the hollow channel they usually rest in. Even the v-shaped slit between his pelvic fins has slid open, winking as he trembles.

Shen Qingqiu's free hand slides right over his slit, his palm catching on its lip enough to make Liu Qingge groan, strangled. Shen Qingqiu grabs the elegantly tapered columns of Liu Qingge's claspers and folds them back along Liu Qingge's body into the hollow they belong. The pressure and slide as Shen Qingqiu tries to fit them flat back against his body has Liu Qingge's vision hazing and his mouth dropping open. He manages a weak twist before Shen Qingqiu's teeth snap at his facial fin.

"No," he says, simply, and Liu Qingge stops again.

Shen Qingqiu holds Liu Qingge's claspers back down and slides the coils of his tail up in a sinuous motion. He slips his hand away, but Liu Qingge is held bound tightly by Shen Qingqiu's thickly muscled tail.

Liu Qingge thinks, if he comes like this there is no way he isn't getting it on Shen Qingqiu.

Liu Qingge focuses on staying as still as he can, but he can feel Shen Qingqiu's pulse through the soft skin of his tail against his own throbbing arousal. Shen Qingqiu keeps shifting as well: a soft flutter of his body length fins to keep them steady, the clench of his muscles to keep his tail wrapped securely around Liu Qingge. It's a different kind of pulsing rhythm, one much more familiar to Liu Qingge's body. It makes his teeth ache.

He wants so much.

He flushes a new cycle of water forcefully through his gill system. Shen Qingqiu had not told him to stop.

Then Shen Qingqiu moves so sharply it really does feel like Liu Qingge is being speared straight through. It punches the voice out of him, leaving him warbling a long, wrecked note as Shen Qingqiu thrusts his hand what can't be more than a knuckles length but feels like the entirety of his arm.

He feels a flood of thick liquid inside of him, a sudden burst of molten heat against the sensitive lining of his gills. Shen Qingqiu's hand is fisted again, grasped tightly around something.

"Ah—" Liu Qingge tries clamping his mouth shut, but the noises escape even through his teeth. Shen Qingqiu has certainly speared something on his sharp claws, but the parasite's writhing death throws only twist itself against Liu Qingge's gills, jolting him with each frantic roll.

"Ah— uhn—" each little noise gets dragged out of him as it's rough carapace catches inside of him. He can't even tell if it's tearing at him, he's so tensed and stretched tight. He eyes sting with heat, the second lid shut tight as he convulsed, scaling up the tiny dying movements inside of him.

"Not a flathead," Shen Qingqiu observes as its twitching gentles. "Lucky. I don't think you could hold still for me to pull it from you slow enough that it didn't break."

There's a moment that Liu Qingge is actually there, with a flathead worm wrapped around Shen Qingqiu's fingers, being drawn segment by segment, achingly slow, from between Liu Qingge's gills. Flatheads tangled themselves in the filaments as well, each fingerwidth hard-won with the tearing pain of separating the worm from his viscera. Trembling to keep holding still, to keep from clamping down tight and snapping the worm. Having to do it all again, the fingers, the stretch, the fist, if he failed.

The very visceral feeling of Shen Qingqiu pulling his hand out of Liu Qingge's gill mouth snaps his attention back. He watches as Shen Qingqiu's wrist withdraws, his fist catching again at the lip of his gill. He can't possibly pull out like that, Liu Qingge thinks, not with how much it took to get it in there. But Shen Qingqiu can't let1 go of the worm either—

Shen Qingqiu's fist tugs at the raw edge of Liu Qingge's gill, stuck and pulling. Tighter and tighter it draws at Liu Qingge, until it feels like Shen Qingqiu is trying to remove his entire thoracic cage with the worm. It so much, pressure, pain, over sensitive fleshed being rubbed, that he's about to make a protest when Shen Qingqiu's needle sharp teeth ghost along his neck.

He gasps, hoarse and raw, and his gill opens just enough with the surprise that Shen Qingqiu's fist pops out. A flood of red murky water follows, presumably from the limp segmented worm in Shen Qingqiu's grip.

It looks, in almost every possible way, like Shen Qingqiu gutted him.

"It's just a rainbow feathered worm." Shen Qingqiu says, holding the long thin body in front of them. Not a gill parasite then, no danger at all to the reef just Liu Qingge's gills.

Liu Qingge watches, dazed, as Shen Qingqiu snaps it between his teeth with an audible crunch.

[bugsfavoriteclown]

Jester!Buggy x Royal!R

Word Count: 1.1k Warnings: Yandereish? Genre: Romantic, Enemies to Lovers, Fantasy AU

———————————————————————

Jester!Buggy who pledges himself to your kingdom completely, devoting his entire being to pleasing your court in hopes of one day gaining your trust, desperate for power to be in his favor for once in his life.

Jester!Buggy who swipes as many valuables as he can from your castle halls without getting caught. Pocketing and taking them out to the market to pawn off to smugglers and citizens at varying prices.

Jester!Buggy who hates everything about you. He can’t stand the fact that you have his entire life in his hands and would overthrow you in a second if he was given the chance.

Jester!Buggy who hides his disdain for you through the jokes he makes. The only part of his job that he likes is that he can openly mock you and how you rule the country and hide it behind the mask of entertainment.

Jester!Buggy who has been planning your assassination since before he even began working for you. Who almost needs to have that same feeling of control you do, just to see what it's like. Who plans to coerce you into a vulnerable position where he can demand things from you instead. Who wants a taste of what it's like to be on the top of the caste system for once in his life.

Jester!Buggy who does like the fact that he can request any type of outfit to be paroled specifically for himself. He’s glad he can at least be granted a variety of clothes that he gets completely for free.

Jester!Buggy who slowly starts to feel himself soften whenever you smile at one of his jokes. Who almost chases the joyful gleam in your eyes when you find something he said funny. Who loves that you always call him back to cheer you up when you're sad as if he's the only one capable enough.

Jester!Buggy who starts to sneak into the castle's kitchens and steals small treats and snacks for you to eat when you have a break in the day.

Jester!Buggy who finds that he actually looks forward to performing in your court. Who feels a sense of pride at the thought that you brag about your wonderful, talented jester to other rulers in other kingdoms.

Jester!Buggy who starts stealing from other kingdoms when you take him with you during your visits. Who goes back home and either sells them or uses them as a replacement for other things he's stolen.

Jester!Buggy who starts to fear for your safety when Alvida, and the other bandits he's been selling to, begin asking why he hasn't been coming back with any new information lately. Demanding that he bring them back something they can use for the upcoming ambush they've been meticulously planning or they'll take it upon themselves.

Jester!Buggy who wants to warn you so badly but can't because he doesn't want to put any suspicion on himself out of fear of losing his job and position beside you. Who's too afraid to explain to you why he knows so much about the conspiracy being organized against you.

Jester!Buggy who, instead, goes to visit Shanks, one of your most valued knights, and begs for him to keep a closer eye out because there may be some type of scheme cooking up in the shadows. Who knows he’ll take what he says seriously without outing him for any of his past crimes.

Jester!Buggy who feels better about not having to fear you getting hurt, but is now starting to feel jealous at how often he sees you and Shanks walking together in the gardens. It pisses him off even more knowing that this is exactly what he asked him to do and so he can’t really be upset about it.

Jester!Buggy who continues to visit you during your breaks, but now also comes to see you at later times in the night because he’s memorized your sleep habits. At first, it was so he could pick the right time to rob you blind, but now he uses it to find good times to see you without it being a disturbance.

Jester!Buggy who starts getting noticeably more possessive over you when he spots Alvida and the rest of her posse near the castle walls one night as he’s on his way to see you.

Jester!Buggy who approaches Alvida and threatens to get her and the others executed if they keep snooping closer to you. But they only laugh as they know he doesn’t have that power and can’t stop them on his own, only making him angrier at the entire thing.

Jester!Buggy who has to find creative ways to play off his clinginess because he’d be damned if they got a hold of you in any way. Who is now always seen accompanying you as you wander from room to room in the castle, playing it off as him trying to learn more about you so he can entertain you better.

Jester!Buggy who offers to go to the markets for you and to help escort you on stage when you have to speak to the public, all with a knife up his sleeve and eyes roaming the crowds.

Jester!Buggy who uses the extra cash he has on him to hire mercenaries to keep watch on anyone he deems suspicious. Specifically Alvida and everyone else associated with her.

Jester!Buggy who starts to reveal to you the kind of person he actually is. Who starts displaying his more violent disposition and knack for murder, all things you weren’t aware of when you had first hired him. Who's ready to kill for you and makes that aspect painfully clear.

Jester!Buggy who does kill for you after someone tries pickpocketing you during your stroll through the country. Who noticed something was off immediately and stabbed the perpetrator before they could get any further with your things.

Jester!Buggy who begins to almost worship you. Who treats you far more gently than anyone else around him and is ready to drop anything on your whim. Who feels his body begin to react in ways he never thought possible whenever he sees you upset.

Jester!Buggy who would do anything to be closer to you, but can't ever seem to find the appropriate time to do so since you're his boss, and he was only ever meant to be your toy. Who is only supposed to enter the room on your terms. Who wasn't intended to be anything more than a worker.

Jester!Buggy who pledges himself to your kingdom completely, devoting his entire being to pleasing your court, but this time in hopes of pleasing you as well. Who would be anything you wanted him to be if you demanded it of him. Who would do anything if it meant he'd be able to spend more time with you.

[xmarchwarden-of-lothlorienx]

Nothing is Trivial

Elrond x nonbinary!reader

Requested: Anonymous

Summary:

TW: Fight scene that describes some injury

Hello sir can i request a elrond x gender neutral reader where he confesses his feelings for them thinking they are a girl but they come out to him as nonbinary (they do share the feelings though) and he's like "i love you anyways" ?

Also i love your writing 💛

Authors Note: Happy Pride Month!! Once again, I apologize for keeping you waiting. I do enjoy that as a trans masc writer I get quite a few requests for LGBTQ+ fics, so keep 'em coming!

As the early evenings sunbeams danced across the valley, the waters of the trickling falls and brooks appeared as though they were teaming with diamonds. As a traveler, you had passed through Rivendell more times than you could count; Yet, those visits had been brief, never exceeding more than a week, despite the assurances of Elrond that you were welcome to stay as long as you liked.

You were fond of the Lord of Imladris - after all, he had proven a faithful friend time and again, was wiser than any scholar or wizard, and always extended some kindness to those residing in or passing through his lands. However, wanderlust had kept you on the road - at least that is what you told yourself and others you encountered - the excitement of seeing new lands, discovering yourself by trying on the lifestyles and customs of those coming from all walks of life. You were still young, believing you would have plenty of time to stay in one place once you had grown old and grey.

While this was not necessarily a lie, you were leaving out a portion of the truth. You avoided any extended stays within the hidden valley because in your heart, you knew you could stay forever, especially if it’s lord simply asked. It made your heart race - feeling as if it was sitting inside your throat, half choking you - to think of what may, or more likely may not, happen should you stay. It was easy to run away from the uncomfortable prospect of life changing (or failing to) after your heart had led you to crawl back to Rivendell between criss-crossing half the continent. That is, until an unexpected ambush resulted in an extended stay within the valley.

--

You passed Weathertop two days ago. Another day's journey and you would be able to spend a few nights resting in Rivendell. It had been well over three years since you had last sought respite in the valley.

While on your travels, you encountered Brunwulf - a kindred spirit. Months of travel and fireside chats with the individual resulted in many realizations, including one acknowledging your gender identity. Brunwulf's friendship was instrumental in becoming comfortable, and later proud, of being non-binary (a term and a concept they introduced, but fit like a glove once explained to you).

You promised yourself that during this short stay in Rivendell you may share the news with Elrond - he was your friend after all, and the time felt right to share this aspect of your life with him. His reaction was sure to be welcoming, you were only friends after all, yet you couldn't push away the building anxiety surrounding the "what if's?" rushing through your mind.

That shall be a problem for the future me, you thought as you lifted your pack onto your back. For now I must actually make it to Rivendell. The day seemed to drag on, the mild morning weather given way to a blistering heat by the early afternoon. The last leg of the journey taking its sweet time now that rest and warm food were finally in sight.

You had nearly passed over the border of Imladris when a sense of dread grew in the pit of your stomach. Your heart rate increased, every hair seemed to stand on end, and you quickened your pace. Nothing is wrong, you are simply worried and weary from travel, you tried to convince yourself. No foul being would dare come this close to-

The hideous echo of an orc horn upon the surrounding hills sent a shiver up your spine. You began running through the sparse pine wood and golden grasses. I only have to make it to the border, I only have to make it to the border, I only have to make it to the border, your mind repeated again and again. It felt as though you were running in a dream: no matter how hard you tried to run, it seemed the distance in front of you only grew greater.

A warg mounted by an orc rider cut across your path. You nearly tripped right into its jaws as you struggled to redirect your momentum. The beasts rider took a swing at you with his foul blade. You narrowly avoided what could have been a fatal blow, ducking and drawing your own dagger. The warg and it's rider were strong and cruel, yet you were cunning and quick, easily able to outwit the pair. Feigning your movement to one side, you dropped and rolled in the other direction, sticking your dagger in the side of the beasts neck while it tried to turn to where you had been a moment ago. With a grunt, you removed the small blade and the warg collapsed. The orc rider muttered something, probably a curse, in Orkish. He dismounted from the warg, and you readied your dagger for the offensive.

It was easy to parry and direct your own attacks at first, but the exhaustion of days spent traveling were creeping up on you. Perhaps your reaction time had delayed, for in an unregistered blink a sharp pain extended across your abdomen. You could feel blood starting to seep from the wound and into your clothing. Pressing one hand to your side to stay the bleeding, you fought on.

Blocking a forceful blow from your opponent sent another shot of pain through you. Your body felt as though it were on fire and the world was spinning. You fell to your knees as another call from the orc horn sounded. The orc gave a guttural laugh. You felt your eyes rolling back as you crumpled to the ground.

The sound of a sweeter second horn, though this one you could not tell if it was real or just a dream.

A steady thunder of riders moving closer.

Nothing but blissful ether.

--

That had occurred over a month ago now. You woke up days later, wrapped in a cozy blanket on a soft, warm bed. Elrond soon visited you. He asked how you were healing and told you of what had happened after you collapsed - how he and his riders fought the orcs, brought you to Imladris, and tended to you himself.

For once, he looked... tired, as though his thousands of years may finally be weighing on him. Surely that must be a projection of your own state, elves rarely displayed such things... right? Regardless, Elrond insisted that you stay until you were fully healed. You agreed given your near-brush-with-death, and were still resolved to have a heart-to-heart with Elrond about your identity. You just had to wait for the right time.

Except, it had been over a month, and still it had never been the right time. This is what led you to wandering the gardens on this particular evening. To continue waiting for the right moment, or to make the right moment, or to just abandon the whole thing completely and wait for some other visit to the valley. You plucked the petals off a flower, going between the three options. You had already gone through this process with two other flowers, unsatisfied with the results both times.

"I wonder what the flowers have ever done to you." A voice that was as warm as a late spring breeze caused you to jump. You jerked your head to the source.

"Sorry," You placed the naked flower down beside you on the bench you had been occupying. "I thought it may help me make a decision, but I guess I just made a mess of your gardens instead." Making room on the bench, you gestured for him to take a seat, "You may join me if you wish."

"They will grow back," He smiled, taking the seat you had offered. "I cannot say I don't blame you. I have also had to make some decisions of late." Elrond's gaze dropped towards the ground before meeting yours. You had seen the elf Lord worried before, but something else, something more personal, seemed to be a miss. You gave him a slight nudge.

"Well, I may not have all the wisdom of the elves, but I am here if you would like someone to listen."

"You are precisely who I've been needing to talk to," he held your gaze, his voice laced with earnestness. You quirked your head to the side, slightly confused, but remained silent waiting for him to continue. "We have known each other for awhile now, and recent events have shown me I must be bold as the world grows dark once more. I should like if you remain in Imladris."

"Forgive me, but I'm not sure what you mean." Bold? Bold how? Against the orcs?

"I have met many elleths and daughters of men, yet none have stirred my heart quite like you. I understand many of these attachments often result in tragedy, but after the grief your injury gave me I believe it would be a greater tragedy if I were to bury my heart for all the ages of the world." You swallowed, taking in the full (and very clear) meaning of his words. The right time is now.

"I confess, I have something I must share with you as well." Elrond's expression dropped, fearing for the worst. "I do return your feelings," You reassured. "It's just... I do not want to be referred to as a daughter of man, or even a son of man, simply a child of man. It may seem strange, and I hope that we may continue to be friends at least, but on my recent travels I learned of this term: non-binary..." You had started fidgeting with your hands, feeling as though you were losing control and losing everything you had only dreamed of hoping for until a moment ago.

"Ah, I see." Elrond took your hands in his, running his thumbs across your knuckles. "I am familiar with the term. I understand that in the world of men such things may take more time to be accepted," he said, gently squeezing your hands. "But among the elves, our ideas on this subject are much more fluid. I shall always stand with you, melleth nin."

At these words, you could not help the tears that began to brim and fall from your eyes. Elrond raised one of his hands to cup your cheek, wiping away the tears sliding down your face. Noticing the concern knitting his eyebrows together, you couldn't help but softly laugh.

"They are happy tears, I promise," you explained, placing your hand over his. You saw the relief wash over his features and the corners of his mouth turn upwards into a small, relaxed smile. You couldn't help but lean into his touch, pressing a small kiss against the inside of his wrist. "Your words have meant the world to me. I cannot believe I have been so lucky to know you in this lifetime." Your eyes glanced towards his lips. "May I?"

"You may," he returned with a smile, closing the gap between you.

Tag List: @themerriweathermage @entishramblings @miriel-estelwen

[hogwartslegacyreactions2]

Jumping on the headcanons bandwagon: do you have any for professor Sharp? Love your work, this is one of my favourite blogs.

A/N: I'm happy you enjoy my work 😌 💕

AESOP SHARP HEADCANONS

Sorted to Slytherin

Quiet and reserved, but not shy, just heavily introverted

He was a quick study of DADA, charms and potions; top of the class

Struggled with transfiguration, a bit too technical for his liking

Always wanted to be an auror, most of his family members were

Had one best friend in school, they both strived to be aurors

Never had a girlfriend in school; he didn't understand the romantic obsession some teenagers had, he likes his alone time

Graduated with high marks and went straight to auror training

It was his mentor that taught him "Shortcuts only lead to shortcomings"

This is where his lack of interpersonal skills hurt him; he could track and fight dark wizards till the stars themselves fell, but calm a distraught person over the death of a loved one? ....nope. awkward as hell.

And office politics at the Ministry? Actual hell. Hated the lot of them.

Except one

A young secretary working for one of the higher ups, she was one of the few people he could stand to be around without losing his mind

He found himself making excuses to go see her or finding the most mundane reasons to go talk to her

His best friend turned work partner knew right away what was happening, would tease him endlessly about it

She made the first move to go on a date; nothing fancy, just a casual lunch date

They never made it back to work from talking for so long

Both of them got writeups but didn't care

He knew within months of knowing her that he wanted to marry her

He proposed privately in his family's garden, just them and the spring butterflies

He was on top of the world; being one of the best aurors the Ministry had and about to marry the love of his life

....but we all know it doesn't end that way

December 31, 1875

He and his partner were ambushed while on assignment

His partner, his best friend, dies

Death curse to the chest, his eyes frozen wide with surprise

Aesop fights off a total of 35 dark wizards single handedly, being critically injured in the process

He holds his fallen partner as he uses the last of his strength to apparate to St. Mungo's

He passed out on the street in front of the hidden hospital where he is found by staff

He sleeps for days in the hospital, his fiance staying with him as long as she can every day

When he wakes up, he's silent

Even when he looks at his lover, his eyes are dark and hollow

The healers did what they could for him but the damage his body took from the curses would leave him with chronic pain and a limp for the rest of his life

He struggles to walk out of St. Mungo's but refuses to use a cane; pride won't let him

His injuries result in his medical discharge from being an auror, his response is anger

His grief over the list of his partner and career sent him down a dark spiral of self destruction

He becomes belligerent, aggressively arguing with everyone over anything about his condition (mentally or physically)

He drinks to numb the pain

That only makes things worse

Any money he had for a wedding is slowly squandered away by drink

Hangovers made him even more insufferable

He refused to talk to anyone about the night of his friend's death, even his fiance

He didn't even go to his friends service, it made things too final and he wasn't ready to accept his friend's death

His behavior eventually led to a fight with his fiance, a big one

She left the ring on the table

He never saw her again

He was alone

Weeks later a familiar face came knocking, his mentor

His mentor gave him the talk he needed to hear

There where shouts of anger until tears of sorrow flowed

He broke and finally accepted that he was in a bad place

Everything he had was gone and he needed to let himself greive

Even after he finally took the time to take care of himself, he still didn't know what to do next until Hogwarts needed a new potions professor

He could try that

Teach kids...not his first choice but he wasn't doing anything else with his life at the time

Worst case scenario, he quits

Turns out he loves it. as much as teaching comes with its own stresses, watching them figure out and admire a well earned accomplishment makes it all worth it

In his time at Hogwarts, he's tried contacting his lost love to no avail

It's one of his deepest regrets, pushing her away

He's well settled as a professor and living life one day at a time