#Veil Veil Vanish

[ostberlinanalogue]

Veil Veil Vanish - "Reproach" I've got some personal history with this criminally underrated band. Like hearing the Cure for the first time in high school yet you're drunk and jaded in your ever disappointing 30's. Cheer's, it's me from your future 50's. Join me and Baxter Dury for a last hurrah at the titty bar of death. (See previous entry...)

[botanicallyinclinednerd]

It was through working out the social implications of necromancy in a world where soulmates exist and how it would be even more taboo than canon, and any potential ways to get around that (because I'm trying to keep Lancelot around, dammit) when I remembered that Merlin fully dies a couple times throughout the show. And in a world where you can feel your soulmate die? The angst is unfolding and it's glorious

[veiledfox]

The God who Vanished [ II ]

"Hello?" The Kitsune calls out calmly, her voice echoing through the cave she had entered. She had been traveling all yesterday, and through most of the night. Thankfully she had some time to get rest after being offered a ride by some fellow Mythos.

A Centaur caravan that was traveling through a countryside under the dark of night. It was a group from a Pocket Dimension Community who would head out into the Human world, purchasing needed resources and supplies before returning. However they had deals with a number of different individuals who lived primarily in isolation

During her time traveling and asking about, she had heard mentions of a Draconic individual who had isolated themselves to their cave in the past few centuries. Occasionally communicating with others from afar via Magic means if they required anything they couldn't venture out and get on their own for one reason or another. Luck just so had it that she was traveling through the right location at the right time, as the Caravan was on a supply run and had contracts with the being in question.

Thus, after a ride where she was granted a nap, and a short travel on foot after having offered to take the requested items to the cave in question, here she now stood. It was a little challenging to find, even with having been told of the indication to look for that signified the fallse Mountain-side wall that hid the cave. Now, however, she was within the slightly chilled and dim space, carefully stepping through. Her tails carrying a large basket behind her that contained various fish, meats, and a few trinkets.

"Brant?" She calls out again, waiting a moment as she continues deeper into the cave. "My name is Kyuushi, I come bearing your requested supplies from the Worn Hooves Caravan, and seek your assistance." Her voice echoes still, carrying her words further into the vast space. Eyes scanning all her surroundings the best she could, even with her ability to see in low light.

A minute more of silence comes, drags on, then leaves with a slight hiss of air rushing through the cavern. Able to easily feel the rush of the air around her being drawn deeper in, before all falls still for a minute longer. Then, at last, a reversal as air pushes towards and past her. The sheer size of this Brant, she could already tell, would have to be imposing to cause such change in the flow of the very air itself.

"Approach..."

Spoken simply, plainly, with a gruff and slightly croaky voice that vibrates the very stone beneath her. Kyuushi would not slow her pace, nor hesitate, simply just continue her progress. If anything, she would begin a more casual, sped up pace. Feeling an ease to the tension that had initially been hanging heavy in the air, having received invitation to proceed.

The breathing that had been slow, drawn out, was now more frequent. Done without pause or moments of stutter. Steady, standard breaths of a vast being further within. Each one helping her mind work through just how big this Brant was as she got closer and closer. Already able to tell they were likely close to, if not over, a hundred foot length from snout to tail tip.

"Hmm... Kitsune...?"

Brant's voice returns, the rumbling of the stone stringer now than it had been prior with the closer proximity. Now with an added, continual after shock as it sounded like they were... humming? Perhaps letting their mind wander as the realization of her Species had registered.

"You are correct, I am a Kitsune. I come from the forrests near the base of Mount Fuji on the Island Country of Japan. My family has lived there for millenia. Though I am the sole Kitsune member of my bloodline at present." She confirms their suspicion, feeling it better to be forthright with knowledge of herself than to keep things secret. Some back near home had told her there's a faint... tinge to her scent that gave away her ancestry, after all.

"Descendant of the Crimson, then..."

Their tone... softer...? Normally when one discovered the truth of her bloodline, there was hints of disgust, distrust, or even simply distaste. Her ancestor was so widely and infamously known by the Mythos of the world, after all. It would be rare to find someone who had no knowledge of the Grand Kitsune, or Crimson Terror, to some degree or another.

"The secrets of the Crimson's power are lost with the Crimson themself. One brings my requested supplies in the Caravan's stead, suggesting a lack of hostility. Not to mention the air of kindness, of compassion, that follows you. Tell me, Kit, what brings you to my lair...?"

It's by the end of Brant's speaking that Kyuushi finally begins to catch the glitter of various treasures. Golds, silvers, rubies, diamons, emeralds, jades even. Plus a good many other items not of the shining variety among them. Extravagantly carved woods, beautifully woven tapestries, grand paintings of people long passed. What was initially just occasional spattering of trinkets and valuables quickly becoming entire piles, stacked walls, entire collumns reaching the ceiling.

"Before the turn of the year, a Necrotic Dragon was summoned above Tokyo." She begins to explain. "I acted immediately, and very publicly, utilizing my Magicks and other capabilities as a Kitsune. As I'm sure you are aware, any Kitsune who become publicly known by Humanity are meant to be exterminated by the Gods ever since the Grand War."

"And yet here you are."

"Yes... I went into hiding in my home, remained locked away in my room for months, but nothing ever happened. The Gods never took action. I've been active again since around April, yet even still they have not acted. Such a lack of action had, for a while simply stewed in the back of the minds of myself and my companions. Recently, however, one began to research the Gods in recent history in an attempt to find... anything, really."

Her pace having continued while she spoke, gently turning her head and gaze this way and that to take in the vast and varied hoard of a Draconic being, notice is taken as the collection begins to spread out. A vast open space amid the various stacks and mounds, where smaller treasure is scattered about across the entirety of the cave floor. Gradually rising higher and higher, toward a plateu of sorts where her eyes meet those of her host.

Large, glowing, pale orange irises with slit pupils of pitch black. The very edges of the irises flickering akin to flame almost, as they stare at her. Their light disappearing briefly, as large eyelids slide over them in two sets. Partly transparent horizontal lids, then solid and soft-scaled vertical lids closing in sequence, before peeling open again. The pupils easing wider after a moment of taking in the Kitsune's form.

The two eyes then rise, with a low rumble, as Brant's head rises from over two large, clawed, powerful feet. Dark bronze, almost rust-like colored, scales coat the vast body of the being before Kyuushi. Broad front half visible to her, as she stands before them, with a sturdy neck supporting a rounded head. Snout not exactly long nor short, large flaring nostrils, a prominent jawbone structure. Two horns that rise from the back of the head, curling down to the sides and spiraling in on themselves, almost as if a Ram's horns.

Though she could quickly take note of a lack of wings, let alone joints for such things. Given what she could see of Brant, which would include a long, narrowing tail lined with spine spikes, told her that they were a Drake. Flightless, unlike many other Draconic sub-species, but no less powerful. Perhaps even physically stronger, given the more sturdy stature.

Kyuushi takes a short breath to continue her words. "When my companion, Artig, brought his findings to myself and another, Hotaru, he revealed to us that one of the Gods is... missing. For lack of better term, considering we don't know what's really happened. Nor do any of the records we've checked delve into the Gods much beyond surface level things."

Her tails ease the basket she had been carrying off to her side, gently setting it down and pushing it towards the grand Drake with a small, respectful nod. One that is reciprocated in thanks, as their massive form shifts to stretch a foreleg forward. The size of the claw alone as almost matching Kyuushi's, she would discover as it drew close. Gently hooking behind the large basket to allow Brant to drag it closer, carving a slight path through the scattered hoard beneath them.

"Inari, Shinto Kami of Foxes."

"Yes. According to the records we have, all presence of Inari simply just vanishes a while before the Grand War. There's nothing on when exactly, or why, just a general window of about one or two centuries. I decided to try finding more information, and asking around lead to rumors of a Draconic Mythos that was older than the Grand War. The rumors lead me to cross the ocean, then to confirmations of the existence of such a being, which eventually lead me here, to you. If there's anything you may know, would you please share your knowledge with me?"

Silence falls, deafening almost with how quiet the cave becomes beyond the mere breathing of two living creatures. Flickering orange eyes looking over the Kitsune, almost peering past the physical to reach inside and take note of her essence itself. Of her personality, her character, her mind, her will, the very matter of her existence.

Another layered blink darkens the space again, before Brant's head lowers into a more relaxed position. Chuckling rumbling forth from their thick throat, making the countless coins, gemstones, and trinkets under him clatter and clink against each other. However, they nodsafter, and she swears she sees the lips along their snout curl into a slight smirk.

"Fine, Kit. Sit, relax, and I shall tell you a tale."

[wheeler-things]

I promise one day I’ll stop bringing up this screenshot but today is not that day because uhm.

Thinking about @madwheelerz’s manifestation theory and like. When this happens:

…they’re describing the Upside Down in terms of the Veil of Shadows. Which. Okay, cool.

Except generally, when they use D&D as a metaphor, they use actual things from D&D irl. The Demogorgon, the Mind Flayer, Vecna… all are real, actual things in irl D&D, even if they’re not exactly 1:1 like the things they (nominally) describe/foreshadow.

…but not the Veil of Shadows. The Veil of Shadows is not a thing. They made it up for the show. And they didn’t have to. Because in real D&D, Shadowfell exists. Described as “the toxic plane of darkness and power. It is the hidden place that hates the light. It is the frontier of worlds unknown”. It’s literally alternately called the Plane of Shadows.

But the Veil of Shadows? Sounds a hell of a lot like Shadowfell in description, but Shadowfell is never referenced as the Veil of Shadows.

And… Shadowfell is from 4e. The kids, especially in s1, are playing 1e. They should not know what Shadowfell is at all.

Idk I just find it interesting that so many of the D&D references are real, and to things they could at least know the name of because they really did show up by name in 1e. Except for the one describing the UD as a whole? Thus comparing the UD to something entirely made up?

Just… interesting.

[rabbittwinrithings]

Got to play a bit more Skyrim, so screenshots time!!

First some Misc ones (Ft. Olivia Septim)

Now CVF ones (Gabs, Cary, and Varrick)

Sad Knight at the temple of Mara

Olivia confronts her about what happened in the temple.

Gabs, what are you doing with that sword?

Oh no! Caryalind! Watch out!

Gods! He can't hear me! He has in airpods in!

[berylbled]

General (1/2)

[jacksintention]

I'm leaving here another piece by this artist (and the sketch!)

  Day 30 - found

[diejager]

Saccharine and Monstrosity pt.1

Pairing: Eldritch Horror!König x mermaid!reader

Cw: kidnapping, manipulation, DARK FIC, trap, luring, mention of breeding kink, protective König, mention of partial nudity, hunting, tell me if I missed any. Wc: 4K

I got inspired by @konigsblog ‘s post.

You enjoyed the sun as much as any other betta fish mermaid, laying on the warm rocks and bathing under the bright, yellow sun. You lived in a school of fish that moved near the shores of a tropical island a few generations before, building houses under the coral reef and rocks where newly placed branches would grow and work as a natural shield. The world you lived in - the part of the ocean you called your home - was bright and colourful, the shallow waters clear and gleaming under the warming sun.

You liked all things bright and colourful, either big or small, you decorated your part of the cave with things you found while swimming around your territory. Be it a golden coin shining on the ocean floor, or a shard of coloured glass, you picked it all up and stuck it around your room. Sometimes, you found pretty things near the limits of your home, and other times, you ventured closer to the edge of the darkness when something shiny caught your attention. 

Over the ridge of sand that drew the start of the darkness, that deep and menacing slope down to the deepest part of your ocean, where darker, meaner and cruel beings born of cruelty and madness lived. It was somewhere all mers were warned of, to stay far away from the darkness and never stray from the light that fed and protected you. You thrived in the light, your body absorbing the warmth from the sun that made your scales vibrant and feeding from the fauna and flora that lived beside you: seaweeds and small fishes. 

Your kind grew up with stories of horrifying monsters and cruel creatures that lived in that abyss, lingering near the shallow to catch a pretty, little mer for their hoard. Whatever became of the taken was still unknown, once a mer was taken by One, no one would hear from them from then on. Your parents had warned you about straying too close from the shallow, daring fate when you swam over the ridge to collect those pretty gems you fancied so much.

“Don’t worry,” you’d grin at her, fins flickering behind you. “I’m a fast swimmer, mom!”

You were a fast swimmer, slipping between rocks and corals, hands cradling your little shells while you fled from the dark, twisting over the ridge and vanishing between the corals. That’s what you did most days, picking up people’s trash to make it your treasure, fingers cleaning the sand off the holes and crevasses before sticking them to your walls. You also tinkered with metal creations you found, a silver fork or a rusted-looking instrument. 

Granted, you joined in hunts, catching sardines and herrings, claws digging into its scaled bodies and teeth ripping into its flesh, the only other taste being sea salt, or bathed under the sun, but you preferred scavenging for loot. Although mers hunted alone, most found it easier to do it in groups, swarming shoals of fish and catching in a group of a dozen at a time for your little colony. So when you were fed and rested, you were back out, treading the line between the shallow and the abyss.

You swam slowly, head turning left and right for anything that would catch your attention, for that small glint hidden under a thin veil of sand or a long metallic object sticking out from the ground. You already had a few things in your arms, a few shells, human objects thrown overboard or floated into the sea, and small treasures: white pearls. You picked things up from both sides, mind in a comfortable and pleasant space, prideful of your catch so far that you were oblivious of the eyes following your colourful body. 

His pale eyes wandered over your puffy cheeks and sweet lips, those squinted eyes in mirth as you searched for more. He went down the curve of your shoulders and the swell of your breasts, perky nipples covered by pretty shells, over your soft stomach and that bright, colourful tail of yours that first caught his attention. Every scale glistened under the sun, reflecting the light on the sand while you swam, your fins curving with the twist of your tail. 

You were the prettiest thing he’d ever seen, an angel collecting treasure, just like he did. He saw the batch in your arms, clutched between your breasts when you dove to pick something up on his side. You were as adorable and innocent as you were pretty, your action oblivious of his predatory eyes, dipping into his territory without fear of retribution on his part. He liked that bold and daring attitude of yours, fitting for someone so courageously bright and flashing your bold colours to him. 

If he were to drop something closer to him, would you still swim towards it or ignore it for something closer to the ridge? If he hid until you were close enough, would he be able to wrap his limb around you? To feel your soft skin and coarse scales under his slimy arm. He was glad he decided to hunt today, searching for both prey - mer or fish, he isn’t picky about what he ate - and treasure. Hidden under a couple of tentacles, he dropped a golden coin a few feet away from him, his veil and the darkness helping him hide from your sight. 

His heart soared when he saw your eyes widen, a smile curling at the corners of your lips when you saw his little coin, diving towards him with enthusiasm. You were so close to him, hand stretching to grab the object with small, clawed fingers. When you held it in your hand, appraising it, he felt pride bubble in his chest, rising to his mind as he took this occasion to get his arm around you. You flinched when he wrapped the tip of his tentacle around your tail, squirming around in terror. In a panicked struggle to escape him, you dropped everything you’d collected and fled from him with a cry.

He watched you swim away from him through saddened eyes, hearing the thudding from the things you dropped, even the coin he gifted you. His eyes never left your fleeing body until you jumped over the edge, your tail the last thing he saw in that moment of self-deprivation and sadness. He hoped you’d come back, forgetting the fear of his sudden attention and daring fate once more.

He came the next day and the day after that, but you weren’t there, your precious smile and happy eyes were a memory in his mind, a fleeting moment in his gloomy world. He came back every day, hiding in the darkness, on the line between pitch darkness and light shading. He wished you were there every day, his eyes bleeding with optimism and hope for a single smidgen of bright colours. 

He hadn’t seen you in the following week. His shoulders slumped and caved into himself in sadness every time he came by, his blue eyes dulling bit by bit, that hopeful thinking drowning under realistic thinking and a pessimistic mind. Then he caught a glimpse of colour against the white sand. Before long, he saw arms filled with shiny items, trailing nearer to your side than his, but still chasing for treasures. 

If he wanted to approach you, to touch your soft-looking skin and run his arms over your scaled tail, he’d have to find a way to lure you in. He watched you the first few days, his tentacles curling on itself and burying himself in the sand, the hundreds of suckers searching for buried treasures to leave for you. When you turned your back to him, his unwinding arm left the things he found near the ridge for you to find and take. Little gifts for you, courting gifts he left and gifted you in an attempt to woo you. 

You were skittish and fleeing but took all his gifts with shaky smiles and grateful eyes, you knew he gave them to you. Of course, you did, you were his brave and smart little mermaid, approaching his offerings with apprehension - he felt hurt you feared and got nervous around him, but he understood you, his kind ate yours - and scanned the sand around you for any danger before crossing the line. He felt giddy when you added them to your stack, his mind-blowing with dreams and thoughts of you decorating your little cave with the things he gave you. On the ceiling, against the wall and on the ground or surfaces, you would use the things he gave you for your home. 

It sent him up the walls of his caves with joy and excitement, his limbs curling to rearrange his home to prepare for you, to accommodate your arrival to his big, lonely home.

It took a week or two - or so he thought, his perception of time was and had always been warped in some way - before you became comfortable enough to approach him, to let him curl his slimy tentacle around your tail and up your body. He could finally feel you and it made him ecstatic - he was over the moon every time he got to touch you. Little pokes, fleeting squeezes and feathery bites from his suckers on your flesh, all things he let himself taste before your coupling. A coupling between the prettiest and the cruellest beings in the ocean would unwind the seams that made your worlds, pulling the string that separated the beauty and the beast in this cursed universe.

Granted, you hesitated to cross into the pitch darkness of the abyss, dancing just a few inches from his abode with an armful of trinkets from König. Your slow and steady breath, words you blessed him with when you muttered to him, calling out to know if he was there and your grateful grin were a common, yet welcome sight in his daily swim. While a bit reluctant to join him on the other side, you eventually swam across, your eyes melting into the black before you. You were unseeing as much as you were blind, if not for the guiding palm of the Eldritch creature that you befriended and the shine of treasure you saw around him. 

You wished you could see anything but the gleam of treasure and the black mist of the abyss, your hand wandered over his, searching for his body, to feel the one who’s been gifting you treasures. Your fingers trailed upwards, feeling the tightness of his muscles, the curves and hardness of his arms were sinful. You truly wished you could see him at this moment, but you kept at your advance, clawed fingers moving slowly with unbridled curiosity. When you reached his broad shoulders and well-pronounced chest, it rumbled, a purr coming from König. Its deep sound shook you with need, your tail enthusiastically moving back and forth as you listened to him. 

“Are you happy, Schatz?”

His voice was even better than his soft purrs, in a way that made you want to melt into his arms and never bother moving if he kept talking to you, the sound of the creature that gave you gifts and affection. König’s spine-chilling voice seemed like a mix of many voices, both soft and raspy, and both deep and smooth, but it was something you enjoyed, that you found yourself liking a bit too much. 

“Yes,” you breathed, eyes travelling skyward, towards the source of his voice.

Your breath caught in your throat, choking a gasp at the prettiest blues you’d seen staring down at you. They were majestic, gem-like with a pretty sheen that made them glow like a beacon of light. You wondered why you’d never seen them, seeing how bright his eyes were. They lit up his face, or the veil he wore over his face, showing the pale streak of makeshift tears down the incision he made for his eyes. You shamelessly admired him, unbothered by the lost puppy-like stare you gave him in your glowing beauty. 

You’d crossed a threshold, where a creature of light never dared to cross, stepping into the arms of an Old One and embracing their madness. Although you were oblivious to his intentions, the loud proclamation of his courting rituals and attempts of crying out his love - the Old One’s rituals and cultures were much of a mystery to those who didn’t study them, much of a taboo for anyone outside of delusion and greed - he hadn’t refrained from his deliberate show that would be nearly shameful and embarrassing to others of his kind. 

Some wouldn’t bother with such frivolous acts: confessions from the deepest part of their dark soul, proclamation of love and undying adoration, or having to scavenge for gifts - offerings - to the subject of their attention. His kind took and took, reaching for that small glimmer of hope and beauty and corrupted it, bending it to their liking and building something from the ashes. It wouldn’t - would never - be the same as they were before, but that was how the Old Ones liked it: control, corruption, ruin, madness and power.

König wouldn’t do that, he wanted to cherish you, add to what you were and watch it bloom like those bioluminescent creatures in the abyss; even against his creator’s wishes. He’ll put you on the highest pedestal he has, eternally imprinting the image of you as his most precious treasure into his mind. You’ll be a thing of miracles, a thing of blessings, a thing of new beginnings. He wanted all and everything with you, but he’d have to take it slow, to coax you into this redundant pattern that ensured your trust and comfort and have you follow him of your own volition. 

He doesn’t mind waiting, he’s had hundreds of years of sitting and waiting, patience was a virtue he grew to learn, to hold in his giant palm and clutch like a gift from the ever-growing, chaotic universe. He can wait and plan, so he will, König will lay down his plan and wait until he can bring it to reality.

Wait he did, for you to grow comfortable enough to follow him deeper and let him pull you in from your side. It took you a month of back and forth, squirming around your infatuation with König and exchanging trinkets, words and fleeting kisses with him. He adored your little giggles when he traced your sides with a bolt tentacle, curling under your plush tits and the tip sliding under your strap. He loved the pretty shells you gave him, cleaned from sand and any barnacles, it showed him how much time you spent on it for him. His heart bloomed and swelled to impossible heights when you pecked his lips, giving him shy and gentle kisses that he grew addicted to. 

You were so sweet and so soft, your lips the taste of heaven for a creature of madness. Your hands were gentle like a cool balm over a burn, soothing his wild thoughts. Your little gifts for him - reciprocating his affection - were currently the most important things in his cave, a sign of your love and devotion. It made him wonder what would you let him do once you gave yourself to him. Would you succumb to the everlasting pleasures he could give you, or would you demand to help him take care of his own in a mutual haze? He couldn’t help himself, letting his chaotic mind conjure the most absurd and erotic dreams, his body vibrating with excitement; and now, at the peak of your trust in him, he watched his plan - a well-placed trap - come to fruition. 

“Come, Schatz,” he beckoned you forward, his burly arm stretching to coax you to follow him, holding out his open palm to you. “I have something I want to show you. Pretty things.”

Without a thought, to question his intentions or to ask why he couldn’t have bought them for you like he usually did, you took his hand and let his fingers curl over yours, intertwining your smaller digits to his as he pulled you to his chest. His embrace was as safe and pleasant as the last one - yesterday - and caused a flurry of emotions to erupt in your chest, he was warm in the cool darkness, loving in all the ways you could think. You could close your eyes and imagine a smile rippling across his face with joyfully squinted eyes peering down at you. 

Held against his chest, his other arm wrapped around your waist with a firm squeeze of his hand where your skin turned to scales. He whispered sweet promises, words of encouragement to see the way to his home and excited explanations of what awaited you. Pretty things, he said, you knew what he meant - at least you think you did - you shared much in common, and pretty things were something you both agreed on: shiny metals, interesting trinkets, shimmering shells or finely-minted coins. All things humans valued before throwing away; one man’s trash is another man’s treasure. 

How unfortunate that you couldn’t see in the dark, yet how fortunate you wouldn’t know the way back, it was something he relied on heavily to keep you, if you didn’t know how to navigate in this utter blindness, there were no risks of you trying to escape his caring hand. You were smart, you wouldn’t simply venture off without knowing where to go and how to see, especially with how vast his territory was and how dangerous it was. He shared his home with other simple-minded animals, sharks, fishes, eels and any other abyssal creature that lived and depended on the dark to live. 

Your innocent curiosity about the things he deemed pretty enough to hoard made his heartbeat, that addicting feeling he got from touching you, kissing you and speaking to you. Even if the deeper he went, the colder it became, you never once complained, your wide eyes and grinning face were the only thing you gave him. He was truly relieved to know that you were patient and understanding of his home, not one hiss or pout while you shook and clung to him, depending on him for warmth. He liked that, to see you rely on him so much. 

“We’re here, mein Liebling,” he hushed, cradling your face as he dove down, through the entrance of his cave. He shielded your fragile body with his many arms, protecting you from the rush of water current flowing against him. He chose this one to build his nest, using the strong current as a natural barrier against weaker creatures. 

When the waters calmed to a still, he loosened his hold on you, unravelling his arms to let you explore the many passages and alcoves in his home. To accommodate you, he strung up bioluminescent flora, using them as light to find your way around, with silken algae over a few rocks to mimic the beds mers slept in and a few other things that he thought you’d need: a mirror, a few floating plants to add to its mystical beauty and clusters of soft materials in nearly every room. 

He let you wander, your tail flapping back and forth to lead you down the long hall and explore the many rooms. He used a room to sleep, one as a pantry and storage, and another one to hold his hoard, but he had a lot of empty and unused space, more than enough for you and your children to thrive. He wanted to let you roam at your own pace, but he had something to show you, something he was proud of making. 

He pulled you from your little cloud of joy, wrapping an arm around you, his sticky suckers latching onto you as he coaxed you his way. Only then had you taken the time to admire König under blue light, cheeks warm with a burning flush and doe-like eyes staring at the naked expense of his hard abdomen, stomach sculpted to perfection that had Adonis shying away. His arms were big and round, muscles straining the scarred skin with delicious appeal. 

Downwards, following the sharp dip of his navel, were dozens of dark tentacles lined with round, pulsing suckers. Like an octopus, they were covered in a slimy sheen, every limb flexible and able to move independently. The lower ones were thick and soft, acting as a cover for whatever he hid beneath them, while some were thinner, whose source came from under his veil. Those, however, were a mix of normal and horrific tentacles, some had eyes replacing the usual suckers, tinted in the same colour as his irises, that glowing, pale blue. 

It made your body heat up, fingers tingling with nerves - or was it? When faced with something you found appealing, it’d be natural to feel flustered, no? König thought so, that’s how he spent the first days reacting to you, heating up to a bothersome flush to everything you did. He watched your awed stare, that daydreaming haze in your eyes when you looked him over, his whole body clear under the gentle light in his cave. 

“This way.”

Without making your gaze leave his figure, he drew you in, heading towards his biggest room where he caught and strung everything to fit his pleasure and mood. It was somewhere deeper into the system with walls strong and sturdy, and the round ceiling higher than the other rooms. On one side was a pile of golden objects of all shades, light yellow to a darkish gold, nearly bronze; on the other was a mix of pretty silver things and metallic black objects, rusted by age and the salty ocean; and on another, the smallest of them all, comprised of a few dozens of colourful shells and corals frozen in time that you’d given him. 

He saw your chest expand, your smile growing brighter and brighter at the pile of gifts you gave him, your bubbly laugh as you swam towards it, twirling around it proudly. You looked around the room, admiring his large collection and how it seemed to spill down every pile in an attempt to reach the other one, forming a protective ring around your presents, but always coming back to the bright pink, blue and yellow shells. You were happy and appreciative of the time he spent working and arranging his hoard. If he could, he’d preen and purr to you, to show just how much your proud smile meant to him, watching you appraise his work was satisfying. 

He already felt like things were falling into place perfectly, he could see the life he had envisioned with you coming to life, the little intricacies that popped into his mind seeming too appealing. His dreams were slowly becoming a reality, the things that he could only imagine were now tangible to his hands, and the future he salivated at was so, so close that he could sink his teeth into its flesh. 

He knew it. He knew it when he watched you swim to him with that big, adorable smile on your face, that it was in his hands. He could see it now, how his lonely cave would be filled with life and laughter, children with a mix of your beauty and his madness chasing one another between the many openings and your round, swollen stomach welcoming another of your children to the world. That was all he could think of while he cradled you in his arms, his tentacles latching to your tail and back. 

“You’re happy, ja?”

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Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @tallmanlover @distracteddragoness @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @konigsblog @candlewitch-cryptic @im-making-an-effort @0alk0msan 

[justcallme1anangel]

the black veil vanishes

[deunmiu-dessie]

ⅸ▬ ⁽ 𝑔𝑜𝒷𝓁𝒾𝓃𝓈 ⁾

𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉 ♡︎ : ₂˖₇ₖ ˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡

𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 ♡︎ : unedited, short, gangbang (??), NSFW,  explicit content, teratophilia, goblin/human, unprotected sex, creampie, overstimulation, dubcon, rape/noncon elements, sloppy writing, rushed.

૮ ˙Ⱉ˙ ა ʳᵃʷʳ ⁿ��ᵗᵉˢ : this is literally the shortest one-shot in the entire monster fucker series of mine, and that's because it's rushed. i didn't feel like adding plot at all either. but hey, if it got my coochie wet, it should get your coochie wet. ( feeding ya'll so you guys don't starve waiting on the dragon one-shot )

𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎 ♡︎: after the death of your brother, it's now your sole duty to provide for you and your mom--- but the woods can be a very scary place.

꒰male!goblins₊⊹ afab!reader꒱

"𝑀other! I'm leaving! "

Silence draped itself over the house, as if time itself had come to a halt. Your mother's voice remained absent, and the absence of anyone bidding you farewell left you with a heavy heart. A gentle sigh escaped your lips and with a tender touch, you closed the weathered wooden door, shouldering the weight of the knapsack upon your back. As your eyes met the foreboding darkness that veiled the forest, a disconcerting feeling settled within the depths of your chest.

In the absence of your brother, who had always been the pillar of support for both of you, you found yourself embracing the role of a caretaker. Your mother, overwhelmed with grief, was unable to fulfill the basic necessities of sustenance and safety. She remained motionless on the bed, her tears flowing ceaselessly, as the days and nights blended together. It was now your turn to rise above the despair and take charge, to bring solace and stability.

With a firm grip on the handle of your short dagger, you fortified your nerves and ventured into the gloomy forest, your knife clenched tightly in a state of restless eagerness. Although the weight of your backpack was as light as a feather, it bore down upon you like an immense burden. Swiftly pivoting, you remained on high alert, ensuring your guard was steadfastly upheld.

Into the heart of the sprawling forest you ventured, your footsteps dancing upon the moss-covered ground, carrying you further away from the gentle glow that had guided your way. The once comforting sense of security dissipated like morning mist, leaving you engulfed in an eerie darkness. The comforting sense of security that had embraced you earlier now vanished into thin air. 

  The path you had treaded upon vanished, leaving no trace of retreat, yet your determination remained unwavering. You pressed on, driven by the desire to reach the berries nestled amidst the dense foliage, and then eventually find your way back home.

As you ventured deeper into the woods, your brother's words echoed in your mind like a haunting melody. He warned you about the goblins, elusive creatures that supposedly roamed the shadows, waiting for unsuspecting intruders to cross into their domain. Despite the ominous tales, he assured you that they were harmless. The image of a goblin, with its peculiar shade of green and diminutive stature, danced in your imagination. How strange it was to think that such creatures existed in the same world as you, yet remained hidden from your sight.

Ever watchful, your gaze remained fixated upon the intricate engravings adorning the tree trunks. A circular insignia defiantly marked with a decisive strike, served as your guiding beacon. Hopeful, you pressed on, faithfully tracing the trail laid before you. 

As the gentle breeze whispered through the foliage, a symphony of rustling leaves enveloped the air. Time seemed to slow down as you cautiously pivoted toward the bush, your trembling hands betraying your anxious state. A surge of adrenaline coursed through your veins, igniting your nerves like a blazing inferno. 

 Suddenly, a deep growl pierced the tranquility, resonating through the very core of your being. Despite the weapon clutched tightly in your grasp, an inexplicable terror seized your heart, threatening to consume your every thought. In an instant, instinct took over, propelling you to turn swiftly and flee, your nimble form weaving through the dense forest, effortlessly evading the entangling vines and treacherous rocks that dared to impede your escape.

You're unsure of how long you've been running but the searing pain in your lungs prompted you to slow your pace, seeking refuge by leaning against a sturdy tree. Your hand brushed against a peculiar marking, distinct from the familiar circle with a slash. You look up quickly, this time, an imposing 'X' catches your eye, accompanied by a haunting message etched jaggedly below: 'go back'. A shiver runs down your spine as the unsettling awareness of being observed, hunted even, envelopes you.

In a moment of desperation, you tightly shut your eyes, as if trying to shield yourself from the malevolent forces that surrounded you and pray. Whispers of wicked laughter dance through the air, reverberating within the depths of the expansive forest. With a quick swivel, you scan your surroundings, hoping to catch a glimpse of any flicker of life amidst the shadows.

   Suddenly, a jolt of pain shot through your body, causing you to gasp. Your eyes widened as you felt a sharp object pierce your ankle, momentarily stealing your breath away. In a reflexive response, you released your grip on the dagger, allowing it to fall to the forest floor. Bending down, you gingerly extracted the needle-like object.

 Yet, as if a veil of mist had descended upon your eyes, your once clear vision became hazy and indistinct. With a determined shake of your head, you attempted to dispel the fog that had insidiously infiltrated your thoughts. Grasping the dagger once more, you struggled to regain your balance, stumbling clumsily as you rose to your full stature.

Alas, the forest floor seemed to twist and twirl in a dizzying dance before your eyes, causing you to succumb to its disorienting spell. In a sudden and unexpected motion, you found yourself sprawled on the ground, the knife slipping from your grasp and soaring away from your reach.

As the atmosphere grew thick with sinister chuckles, it became evident that you had unwittingly stumbled into the realm of the mischievous Goblins. Overwhelmed by frustration, tears of despair trickled down your cheeks, while your determination urged you to inch closer to the gleaming blade.

Suddenly, a force seized your trembling leg, causing you to cry out in fear. Frantically, you thrashed about, employing erratic kicks in a desperate bid to dislodge the mysterious grip.

 It seemed that whatever the Goblins had put on that needle was finally kicking in. Gradually, your valiant resistance waned, your feeble attempts to resist their hold proving futile. A haunting laughter reverberated near your ear, causing you to cautiously shift your gaze towards the sound, tears streaming down your face as you found yourself ensnared by the gaze of large black eyes.

Abruptly, the creature's mouth parted, emitting a series of chitters that harmonized with the surrounding Goblins, creating an otherworldly symphony of communication. You plead with them, your tears cascading down your face and finding solace in the crevices of your hairline. The Goblin closest to you inches forward, its head tilting inquisitively, while its its gaze fixated on the shimmering trails of tears.

The soft murmur of their conversation is the sole sound that penetrates the deafening thump of your heartbeat. You have no clue what they're saying but the delicate caress of a hand on your cheek offers solace as it brushes away the tears that stream down your face.

In total, it appears that there are four figures surrounding you, two positioned near your feet and one on either side. Despite the fact that they are armed, they exhibit a sense of nonchalance, keeping their weapons idle by their sides.

As you begin to relax a bit, a glimmer of hope flickers within you, and you that they perceive you as harmless and decide to leave you here. A gentle warmth caresses your cheek, prompting you to slowly turn towards its source, only to recoil in fear at the looming presence of the monstrous being.

Its mouth, without warning, descends upon yours, planting a sloppy kiss that catches you off guard. Your eyes widen in shock, and you instinctively attempt to pull away, tears welling up in your eyes.

As if in a surreal reverie, a slimy appendage gently prods against your quivering lips, the creature displaying an unsettling indifference toward your futile resistance. Abruptly, a hand gropes your breast, its jagged nails tearing through the delicate fabric.

A gasp escapes your lips, mingling with the invasive kiss, and the intruder's long and thick tongue slides down your throat effortlessly. Paradoxically, this unwelcome intrusion only serves to ignite a fierce determination within you, intensifying your struggle against its grip.

  Like a peculiar elixir, the mingling of the goblins' sweet saliva and your own descends upon your flushed cheeks. In that fleeting moment, you relinquish your futile attempts to escape their clutches. Your limbs refuse to obey your commands, and you find yourself overwhelmed by their sheer numbers. After all, if their intention was to end your life, they could easily do so, just like they had done to your brother.

 Amidst the haze that clouds your sight, you find solace in the notion that this situation could have been far more dreadful. This kiss, though not your first, stands out among the many others you've experienced from the boys in the village who seem to always disregard your lack of consent. Hell, it might be the drug affecting your thoughts, or perhaps it's the overwhelmingly sweet taste of its saliva, but you don't particularly object to your current state.

 Your eyes pop open at the sound of your bindings being ripped, exposing your breasts to the crisp breeze. Your nipples perk up and harden, as if beckoning one of the mischievous creatures to come and taste. Your thighs clench, clit pulsing as a hot mouth descends around your areola, suckling strongly, teeth delicately grazing your tender skin.

A wave of pleasure crashes over you, your moans escape into the Goblin's mouth. Your eyes remain shut, lost in a world where only the sensations matter. The impish creature, with clumsy hands, explores your other breast, teasing and coaxing your nipple. 

  You realize briefly how aroused you are, how slippery your cunt is ( so much so that it’s almost uncomfortable) and your cheeks flush in embarrassment. It's a secret that you'll hold dear forever, how these monstrous beings awaken a desire within you that far surpasses anything that men from your village could ever offer.

Riiiip

You quickly break away from the kiss, gasping for air, only to find yourself staring at the two Goblins by your feet. Your pants are torn, the hasty stitching coming undone effortlessly. Your knickers, worn and slightly tattered, had not been replaced in some time, but you always made sure to keep them thoroughly clean. 

  Your head is turned back, and before you can react, those lips are on yours once more. Your heart races as you feel your knickers being tugged down your thighs, your legs pushed up, exposing your dripping cunt.

Your pussy quivers as a rough tongue swipes across the expanse of your slit. It has you grinding wantonly against its eager mouth shamefully. The Goblin seems to like the way you taste because it grabs your thighs and heaves them over its small shoulders, burying its face deeper into your cunt, lapping excessively and for a moment you're seeing stars.

You arch your back, offering yourself up to its insistent mouth, lost in a haze of bliss. It devours you with a fervor that leaves you breathless, each lick sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. At that moment, nothing else exists but the overwhelming sensation of being consumed by pure, unadulterated lust.

Your eyes flutter closed, and the relentless flick of its coarse tongue against your throbbing clit makes you pulse needly. The kiss stops momentarily and you take that time to breathe deeply, chest heaving as the other Goblins take their time suckling on your breast and eating you out. 

A wet sensation brushes against your lips, prompting you to extend your tongue and savor the warm, bittersweet taste. With a soft moan escaping your lips, you gaze upwards, feeling your cheeks flush at the sight of the Goblin's cock hovering above your mouth.

The girth is thick but it's not long, a good 4 inches at best. Slowly, it guides itself into your hot mouth, and you savor the intoxicating sweetness of its precum on your eager tastebuds. You obediently bob your head, your cheeks growing even hotter as the Goblin's hands entwine in your hair, dictating the rhythm at its own whims.

  A surge of electricity courses through your hips as your clit is slurped on harshly, your eagerness taking over as you gyrate your hips with increasing fervor against the skilled tongue, craving more of its enthralling touch. The sudden, forceful thrust of the other Goblin’s cock down your throat elicits a mixture of sensations, from a deep gag to an overwhelming sense of pleasure and your legs tremble uncontrollably, wrapping around the Goblin's head, as you cum with a soft, high-pitched moan.

With a hint of jealousy, the other one shoves the Goblin away and eagerly plunges his tongue into your throbbing core, chittering at the taste of you. You find yourself utterly vulnerable, incapable of reaching down to push his head away, cunt sensitive and pulsing.

  You suddenly heave as its cock hits the back of your throat, bittersweet thick, sticky cum shooting into your mouth. You gulp it down, the viscosity coating your tongue as you eagerly suck on the bulbous tip to get every last drop of it. The Goblin lets out a guttural moan before pulling away, collapsing onto the lush greenery.

 A gentle breeze caresses your sensitive nipples as the other mischievous Goblin frees them from its warm mouth, straddling your stomach and pressing your breasts together, sliding its cock in between the valley and thrusting. Your lips part, eagerly enveloping the swollen tip as it reaches your mouth.

The Goblin that had decided to eat you out first had maneuvered itself to your head. With a perverted gaze, it pleasures itself, mesmerized by the sight of its tribe member's pulsating cock disappearing into the velvety embrace of your breasts and then past your fleshy lips.

 You let out a squeal of surprise as a painful thickness pushes into you, tears immediately wetting your cheeks at the discomfort. You attempt to move your hips back, trying to get away from the intruding cock. The goblin grabbed the fat of your hips, anchoring itself. Its clumsy fingers dance over your clit, soothing the ache with each teasing stroke. Pushing in until its small balls rest against your plump ass.

  And as soon as it noticed your body relaxing, it began to thrust, its head thrown back in wicked laughter, before glancing downwards, captivated by the sight of its green cock disappearing inside you, marveling at how tight your pussy was gripping him. Oblivious to its actions, the Goblin intensified its circular caresses on your clit, overstimulating your bundle of nerves. You cried out, cunt spasming and quivering around its cock, you came once more– leaving a pearlescent ring of cream around the base of him.

The mischievous creature nestled between your breasts finally cums, tiny hips faltering as its seed trickles down your chin and breasts. Succumbing to temptation, you welcome the tip into your mouth, savoring every last drop of. Its taste was nothing short of addictive.

A thick warmth fills your cunt, coating your gummy walls in a sticky fluid. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, you feel so full and sated. The weight of the two Goblins pressed against your skin, sends a shiver down your spine. Darkness creeps in, but you welcome it, too lost in the moment to care, and whatever they gave you hadn't worn off yet.

The moment your eyes fluttered open, a blanket of darkness surrounded you, the gentle chirping of crickets filling your ears and the icy touch of the night air jolting you awake. Sitting upright, you realized you were situated at the forest's edge, your cozy dwelling just a short distance away. 

Gradually adjusting to the lack of light, you discovered an array of food spread out before you, your hunger pangs intensifying as your stomach rumbled. Without hesitation, you indulged in the succulent berries, pondering whether it was all a mere dream. However, the lingering sensation of the cold breeze caressing your exposed nipples and the stickiness clinging to your thighs contradicted that notion. 

Gathering as much food as you could carry, you stood up and made a swift exit, calling out for your mother. You looked behind you, the feeling of being watched overwhelming. Tomorrow, you vowed to return and express your gratitude to those unseen eyes.

[fushitoru]

chapter 4: the game a bridgerton!au

pairing ⸺ duke!satoru gojo x fem!reader

summary⸺ dearest gentle reader, a new season is upon us as the ton gets ready for a season filled with drama, heartbreak, and passion. after being crowned diamond of the season, duke gojo⸺only looking to marry just to secure his inheritance⸺has his sights set on you, the easiest (and most obvious) option. later, when you catch his saying unsavory things about you on a terrace when he least suspected it, you swear to never marry gojo. as london's fashionable set goes through yet another wedding season, will there be hope for scandalous gossip, hate, and thinly veiled insults, or will we witness blooming love and passion?

warnings ⸺ nsfw, enemies to lovers, bridgerton au, angst, fluff, SUGGESTIVE, eventual smut, jealousy, misogyny, regency era au, gojo being infuriating, reader also being infuriating, both of them are clueless honestly

chapter summary: satoru has some revelations about you. both you and satoru share some quite...happening days at the manor, including an eventful game of pall mall. (4.9k)

a/n WARNING this chapter is suggestive. like always minors dni. not edited at all bc im sick of this chapter lol (like always i fear). see u at the bottom ;)

prev. the manor | next. the fall

general masterlist | series masterlist

Dearest reader, 

It has come to the attention of This Author that Miss Itadori, the undeniable diamond of the season, has made her appearance at Gojo Manor a full week ahead of the rest of the ton. Such early arrival can only provoke speculation: might the tender buds of affection be blossoming in the Kentish countryside? Shall we soon witness Miss Itadori departing with more than just fond memories, perhaps even a ring upon her finger? These are the very questions now fluttering through the minds of young ladies and their ever-watchful mamas, who may find their carefully laid plans to ensnare Lord Gojo dashed before the house party has even begun.

⸻ LADY WHISTLEDOWN’S SOCIETY PAPERS

Gojo leaned back in his chair, fingers absentmindedly drumming on the armrest as he watched you fumble with the library door. The soft fabric of your nightgown slipped off your shoulder, a glimpse of bare skin catching in the dim light⸺something not lost to Gojo’s eyes as he watched your figure disappear angrily. Your face was flushed, eyes wide and uncertain. Despite the flurry of emotions playing across your features, what struck him most was the way your hands trembled as you fought to maintain composure.

His lips pressed into a thin line as he leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. You had come here⸺of all places⸺into his sanctuary, and for what? A part of him couldn’t reconcile the image of you sneaking into the library in the dead of night with the proper, composed lady you portrayed during the day. The whole encounter felt surreal, leaving a knot of confusion coiled tightly in his chest.

His gaze lingered on the empty doorway after you vanished, a strange hollowness settling in his chest. He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to shake off the feeling, but it clung to him like the shadows of the room. His fingers tightened around the armrest, knuckles whitening as if he could grasp onto something concrete⸺something that made sense. But all he was left with was the lingering echo of your footsteps in the hallway and the ghost of your flushed face in his mind.

He rubbed a hand over his face, exhaling slowly. His mind kept returning to the way your nightgown had slipped from your shoulder as you fumbled with the door. The pale fabric had slid down so effortlessly, exposing the curve of your bare skin. It wasn’t scandalous, not really⸺not enough to warrant the way his thoughts kept circling back to it. And yet, he couldn’t shake the image, the unexpected flash of vulnerability. The sight of it stirred something in him, a quiet confusion that unsettled his usual composure.

What was it that made him notice? Gojo’s brow furrowed as he considered it, his fingers absently drumming on the armrest of his chair. He had witnessed plenty of women in far less modest circumstances (most of them courtesy of his friends, who forced him to go to ridiculous events), and yet, this felt different. There was something about the way you had tried to maintain your dignity, the way you had fought to compose yourself even as your face flushed and your nightgown betrayed you. It was... distracting.

The memory of your fearful expression gnawed at him. He had expected haughty arrogance or calculated charm, not genuine fear. You weren’t like the people who usually surrounded him, playing their part in society's grand performance, all vying for his attention. There was an intelligence in your eyes, a spark that made him feel something unsettlingly close to admiration.

He couldn’t make sense of it. Why did it matter that you were different? Why did he find himself enjoying your company, despite the fact that you seemed entirely uninterested in his? He drummed his fingers against the armrest, contemplating the possibility of pursuing you for the rest of the season⸺though he quickly dismissed the thought. You were uncooperative, difficult. A chase after you would be nothing short of exhausting. 

And yet...

His attention shifted back to the desk, to the scattered papers you had left behind. Gojo reached for them, his fingers brushing lightly against the edge of the parchment as though handling something fragile. The numbers and diagrams were a mess of scribbled notes, and yet, they held a strange familiarity. His brow furrowed as he traced the lines with his eyes, piecing together the fragmented calculations. Then, like a puzzle falling into place, it clicked.

Venus. Of all things, you had been calculating the size of Venus.

Gojo’s hand froze midair, hovering over the papers. He blinked, his breath catching in his throat. He had assumed⸺no, expected⸺you to be reading some frivolous romance, a book about love and passion, something fitting for a young lady sneaking into a library. But instead, you were working on complex celestial calculations.

He had pegged you for a typical young lady of the ton⸺someone more interested in the latest gossip or the affections of suitors than in the stars. It annoyed him, more than he cared to admit, that he had been wrong.

Gojo set the paper down, his hand resting on the edge of the desk as he leaned back in his chair. The flicker of irritation that sparked in his chest was unfamiliar, unsettling even. It wasn’t just that you had surprised him⸺plenty of people had done that before. No, it was the fact that he had misjudged you so completely. He prided himself on being perceptive, on seeing through people’s masks with ease. Yet here you were, slipping past his assumptions with nothing more than a few scribbled notes and a fleeting presence.

His gaze dropped to the floor, and for the first time in a long while, he felt uncertain. Gojo wasn’t used to feeling this way⸺unsettled, annoyed, and a little too curious for his own good. He tapped the papers lightly, lost in thought. What did it mean that you had gotten under his skin like this? That he found himself wanting to unravel the mystery of you, to see what lay beneath the surface of your carefully constructed facade?

A sigh escaped his lips, low and quiet. His hand finally left the papers, and he leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling as if it held answers he couldn’t quite grasp. The world around him was filled with people who either fawned over his charms or remained blissfully unaware of his true nature. But you? You saw right through him. You challenged him, unsettled him, made him question things he had never thought to question before.

With a final glance at the empty doorway, Satoru leaned forward again, ready to dive back into his work. But this time, his thoughts weren’t solely on his family’s ledgers. They were on you⸺and the undeniable pull that had started to form between you.

And inevitably, because Satoru is distracted, he lets the lull of sleep sneak up on him, swathing him in its deep, heavy blanket.

No, Satoru hears himself think. You’re not supposed to be here.

You’re sitting on his bed, somehow made it up to his chambers. A part of Satoru comprehends⸺in all his sleep-deprived glory⸺that he is definitely dreaming, but there’s an overwhelmingly stubborn part of him that dominates his entire consciousness, refusing to accept the fact. 

You’re leaning on your elbow, resting on your side on the foot of his bed. Part of him wants to believe that you are really here, sheer nightgown that seems to get shorter and shorter⸺slipping up your thighs⸺every time his consciousness paints an image of you. The sheer material drapes over your figure, accentuating the gentle curve of your waist and the fullness of your hips, painting a picture that torments him.

“My lord,” you whisper. 

It’s just his title, but your voice carries a sweetness it never holds in reality, dripping with an unfamiliar softness that makes Satoru’s heart lurch. Panic takes root, and he scrambles back, trying to distance himself from the fantasy in front of him. His back slams against the headboard as he fights to resist⸺not just you, but the part of himself that aches to abandon all notions of honor. That part of him that craves to do things to you that are anything but honorable.

Then, he notices your smile. It’s not the polite, practiced smile you show at balls or to suitors vying for your attention. This one is sincere, warm⸺a smile that speaks of affection, the kind you’ve never shown him before.

Like you are in love. 

And you are not helping Satoru in his restraint because you position yourself, crawling like a predator, straddling his lap. Satoru is suddenly breathing too fast, his chest tightening with the weight of desire and disbelief.

Your lips are at his ear. Your lips are so soft. “Touch me,” you say, trailing your lips down feather light across his jaw. 

Right now, you are in love. With him. You are his, and Satoru desperately does not want to fight it. 

He does not want to. 

Your hands start trailing down his torso, and now he registers that he is simply wearing a linen shirt and underwear because you are tracing the edge of his underwear, touching his inner thighs, getting so, so impossibly close to⸺

“No,” he rasps, squeezing his eyes shut. “I am a man of honor.”

But that’s a lie. One that Satoru clings to, because admitting the truth would shatter everything he’s built. His identity, his values⸺they all rest on the lie he’s desperately trying to hold onto.

What he really wants is nothing between you and him.

He wants that flimsy nightgown gone, the one that barely covers your thighs and what lies between them. He wants to keep the candlelight burning so he can see every inch of you, learn every detail of your body. He wants to slip off your chemise and explore the softness of your skin, trace the swell of your breasts, the dip of your hips, and taste the sweetness of your lips.

Satoru can’t focus on anything except the fact you are utterly, scandalously close to him, sitting on his lap and staring at him as if you love him. 

And his treacherous heart wants to abandon duty, honor, the dukedom, the royal family⸺everything⸺and simply take you. To feel the weight of you pressed against him, wrapped around him.

But just as his hands move to cup your face, you start giggling. “No, you are not.”

Satoru blinks, confused.

You laugh again, light and teasing. “You are no man of honor.”

And suddenly, your laughter echoes in his mind, filling the room with its taunting melody. It etches itself into his thoughts, leaving an indelible mark.

“You are a coward.”

You entered the drawing room to break your fast, Choso by your side, and immediately locked eyes with Gojo, who was already seated at the table with his mother. He quickly looked away, focusing on the toast he was slathering with an ungodly amount of jam.

As you moved to sit at the table with Choso, you couldn't help but study him. Gojo appeared more disheveled than usual, perhaps a bit fatigued, though any sign of vulnerability quickly vanished when your mother spoke.

“Lord Gojo, it is a fine morning, is it not?” she inquired with her usual warmth.

Gojo smiled, leaning back in his chair with his characteristic nonchalance. “Indeed, Lady Itadori, especially as I am blessed with such lovely company as yourself and your daughter.” His eyes flickered toward you, an arrogant glint in them before they shifted back to your mother.

You and Choso exchanged exasperated glances. 

Your mother chuckled, clearly charmed. “Oh, my lord, you flatter me. Tell me, what do you favor for breakfast? I am always curious to hear of others' preferences.”

“Clearly, it is toast drowned in enough jam to satisfy an army,” you muttered under your breath, delicately spreading butter onto your own toast.

Gojo’s eyes flashed, and he couldn’t resist a retort. “At least I do not indulge in something as dull as butter.”

You stiffened. “Butter is far superior to such overwhelming sweetness. Jam annihilates the taste of the toast itself, rendering it pointless.”

“And butter,” he shot back, “adds nothing but blandness. It is unremarkable, simple, and tasteless.”

A surge of heat rose to your face, ready to deliver another sharp remark, but before you could respond, Duchess Gojo’s lilting laughter filled the room. “Oh, my dears, what a lively couple you make!” Her tone was teasing, her eyes alight with amusement. “Such spirited conversation at breakfast⸺how delightful!”

Both you and Gojo stiffened, your faces flushing, though whether it was from irritation or something else entirely, you couldn’t say. You hastily turned your attention back to your toast, while Gojo busied himself with his tea.

Duchess Gojo clapped her hands together lightly, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Since we are all in such a lively mood this morning, I do believe a game of pall-mall is in order once breakfast is through. The garden is in full bloom, and the weather is perfect for it.”

Your mother smiled graciously. “A wonderful idea, Duchess. It has been some time since we last enjoyed a game.”

“Indeed,” the Duchess agreed. “And I daresay a little friendly competition will do us all good. What do you say, Lord Gojo?” She turned to her son with a knowing look. “I trust you are up for the challenge?”

Gojo leaned back in his chair, a smirk playing on his lips. “I never shy away from a challenge, Mother. But do be warned, I have no intention of losing.”

“Confidence is a virtue,” you remarked dryly, reaching for your teacup, “but do not let it cloud your judgment. Pall-mall requires more than mere bravado.”

Gojo raised an eyebrow, his smile widening. “Ah, a challenge from you as well. This shall be an interesting morning indeed.”

“Let us hope your skills in the garden match your flair for words, my lord,” you retorted, your tone light (for the sake of preventing your mother a heart attack) but your gaze to Gojo sharp. 

Duchess Gojo’s laughter rang out once more, her eyes gleaming with delight. “Oh, this will be most entertaining! Come now, let us finish our breakfast, and then we shall see who emerges victorious on the field.”

You took a sip of your tea, pointedly ignoring the way Gojo’s gaze lingered on you as you did so. The day had barely begun, and already, you felt the familiar tension of being in his presence. But if there was one thing you knew, it was that you wouldn’t back down from a challenge⸺whether at the breakfast table or in the garden.

Duchess Gojo clapped her hands together, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “Now, we must let our diamond choose first. After all, she is the only lady participating today.”

You smiled warmly at her, a polite nod of appreciation. Gojo, however, frowned, his eyes narrowing slightly as he glanced between you and the bag of mallets. “Are we not simply setting her up for victory?”

Turning to him with an innocent smile, you crossed your arms. “What’s that, my lord? Are you unable, as a man, to deal with the loss of your chosen mallet? I know some men depend heavily on certain familiars to win.”

Gojo held your gaze for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, with a dismissive shrug, he looked away. “Choose whatever you want. I will be sure to defeat you regardless.”

Duchess Gojo placed a warm hand on your back, encouraging you forward. “That’s the spirit, my son. Now, Miss Itadori, do choose which one you fancy.”

You approached the bag of mallets, your eyes scanning over the selection. They varied in subtle shapes and sizes, each one seemingly tailored for a different style of play. Your gaze settled on a mallet slightly larger than the others, painted a light blue shade. Its weight and shape seemed particularly advantageous for aim and control—perfect for directing the ball with precision.

As you picked it up, Gojo’s expression darkened, a hint of irritation flickering in his eyes. “Of course, she chooses the best one,” he muttered under his breath.

“Well,” Duchess Gojo crossed her arms. “I suppose it’s only fair that you all let the lady go first.” She turned to you, nodding. “I will go join your mother for tea inside, my dear.” Winking, she adds, “Show these boys how real ladies do it.”

As the duchess took her leave, Choso, always the supportive brother, leaned over to you with a small smile. “Excellent choice, sister. Show them how it’s done.”

You gave him a grateful nod and positioned yourself for your turn. With a graceful swing, you sent the ball rolling smoothly across the lawn. Choso clapped in approval, but when you looked up, Gojo and Yuji were both glowering at you from the sidelines.

Gojo’s lips curled into a smirk, clearly not amused by your success. “Beginner’s luck,” he commented dryly. Yuji could only nod in mindless agreement to Gojo, and you graced him with a glower. Traitor.

Now it was Gojo’s turn. He stepped forward with confident ease, positioning himself with the mallet as though he had been doing this his entire life. With a swift, practiced swing, his ball shot forward and struck a target dead center. Yuji’s eyes sparkled with admiration, practically beaming at Gojo’s skill.

Choso and you exchanged petulant glances, unimpressed by Gojo’s display. But Yuji’s excitement only grew, and he couldn’t resist praising his mentor. “Incredible, my lord! You never miss!”

Choso’s turn came next. With a focused look, he lined up his shot and knocked Gojo’s ball right out of position, sending it tumbling off course into a forested area. Gojo let out a forced laugh, masking his irritation as best as he could, and you clapped and let out a small, petty giggle. “Good shot, brother! I fear Lord Gojo will have to travel much distance to retrieve and get it on course.”

You would come to bite your words.

When it was Yuji’s turn, he aimed with all his might and sent your ball flying out of position. You gasped in outrage, turning to him with narrowed eyes. “Oh, you will pay for this.”. 

Gojo, on the other hand, gave Yuji a hearty pat on the back, beaming with pride. “Well done, Yuji. Well done.”

It was now your turn, and you stomped your way towards the forested area where you and Gojo’s balls had traveled towards. Soon enough, Gojo was following after you.

The path was shaded by trees, and the coolness of the forest was a welcome relief from the heat of the sun. You could help but give each other glares until you finally broke the silence.

 “How dare you bewitch my brother into turning against me?” you accused him, stepping over a stray root.

Gojo rolled his eyes, a playful smirk on his lips. “It appears that Yuji’s blood is indeed not thicker than water,” 

 “Or maybe⸺just maybe⸺your charm isn’t as infallible as you think.”

Keeping pace beside you, Gojo scoffed. “And yet, here you are, still engaged in conversation with me. I must be doing something right.”

You shoot him an angry sideways glance. “I’m only here because my ball is, unfortunately, in the same direction as yours. Nothing more.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Ah, so it’s mere coincidence that fate keeps pulling us together.”

“More like unfortunate circumstance.”

The two of you continued bickering as you searched for your wayward balls. The back-and-forth banter echoed through the forest, neither of you willing to back down.

Finally, you spotted them⸺your ball and Gojo’s⸺resting precariously on top of a narrow stream of water. You both halted, glancing at each other, and then, without a word, you raced forward.

Gojo reached the water’s edge first, but you weren’t far behind. Neither of you hesitated as you waded into the shallow stream, your focus entirely on retrieving your respective balls. The bottoms of your clothes became soaked in the cool water, but neither of you paid it any mind, too busy grappling to reach your goals first.

Just as you managed to scoop up your ball, your dress snagged on something in the water. You stumbled forward, colliding directly into Gojo, who had just retrieved his own. The sudden impact sent both of you toppling into the water.

You landed squarely on top of him, the shock of the fall leaving you momentarily dazed. Gojo blinked up at you, his breath catching as his gaze dropped to your now-dampened bodice, honing in on your bosom. For a moment, his usually sharp and calculating eyes softened, confusion flickering across his face as if he didn’t quite understand the effect you were having on him.

You scrambled to find your words, unsure of what to say. “I didn’t mean to⸺”

Before you could finish, Gojo gently grasped your shoulders and helped you off of him. He stood up first, his expression uncharacteristically serious as he brushed off his wet clothing and offered you a hand. You took it, steadying yourself as you rose to your feet.

Gojo swallowed hard, clearly at a loss for words. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but then quickly closed it, shaking his head. “I must go,” he muttered,.

Without another word, he turned and left, leaving you standing there in the stream, confused and flustered as you watched him disappear into the trees.

“I am not impressed.” Nobara impassively stares you down with a glower.

You fluttered your fan, maintaining a delicate air of mock innocence. “Whatever do you mean, my dear friend?”

The two of you sat at a small table on the terrace, its stone surface warm from the midday sun. Before you, the expansive field served as Gojo’s personal training ground, scattered with targets and archery equipment. Gojo and his protégé, Yuji, had clearly been at it for hours, their bare skin glistening with sweat under the relentless sun. They moved with a practiced ease, their focus entirely on the task at hand.

Gojo was currently demonstrating a particular stance to Yuji, his voice carrying faintly over the terrace as he corrected the younger man’s posture and grip. Yuji, ever the diligent student, watched him with an intensity that bordered on awe. You couldn’t help but reflect that his expression now⸺determined and assured⸺contrasted much with his encounter with you at the game. 

Nobara’s eyes narrowed as she regarded the scene. “Why are we here?” she asked flatly, her gaze lingering on the two men.

You turned to her with a smile, fluttering your fan with exaggerated elegance. “Why, to record in my journal, of course. One must capture the beauty of Mother Nature when it presents itself so generously from this terrace.”

Her expression remained unimpressed. “Is it truly Mother Nature that has captivated you, or Lord Gojo’s bare skin?” She glanced down at your unopened journal, its quill resting untouched beside it. “And how much progress have you made in this recording of yours?”

You couldn’t suppress a laugh, caught in your own half-hearted excuse. “Well, even you cannot deny that he presents a rather fine figure, can you? And I will get to my writing in due time. Inspiration must first strike, after all.”

Nobara sighed, folding her arms across her chest. “I cannot fathom how you find pleasure in looking upon a man who has caused you so much distress. Many times, in fact.”

You glanced back toward the field, watching as Gojo effortlessly pulled back his bowstring, the muscles in his back rippling with the movement. His form was impeccable, each action a demonstration of his skill and strength. Yuji, in contrast, struggled to replicate the motion with as much ease and accuracy, though his determination was evident.

"He’s clearly enjoying himself," you commented dryly, turning your attention back to Nobara. "Torturing me, that is. I might as well make due of my harrowing and demeaning stay here and enjoy some aspects of Gojo. I swear, he delights in the fact that I’m stuck here."

Nobara’s eyes narrowed, and she snorted. "Oh, absolutely. Men like him don’t get much amusement in life unless it involves making someone else miserable."

You shook your head, remembering the library encounter all too vividly. Gojo had seemed genuinely surprised to find you there, and yet he had taken to taunting you with his usual smugness. That infernal smirk of his had been etched into your memory.

"I almost wonder," you mused, "if he was actually shocked to find me in the library. Perhaps I caught him off guard for once."

Nobara raised an eyebrow. "What were you doing? Looking for a book on how to survive insufferable dukes?"

You chuckled softly. "No, I was reading about Venus, actually. But Gojo⸺he assumed I was indulging in some silly romance. Imagine his surprise when he realized I was working on calculations instead."

Nobara’s lips twitched upward in amusement, but before she could respond, a loud thud! echoed across the terrace. Both of you looked down just in time to see Gojo's arrow hit the target dead center.

You rolled your eyes. Of course, he would show off. That insufferable man never missed an opportunity to flaunt his skills. Yuji, predictably, looked like he was about to faint from admiration.

Gojo notched another arrow, his back muscles rippling as he drew it back with practiced ease. His abs tightened with the effort, and though you told yourself you were merely observing his technique, your gaze lingered a moment longer than necessary. The tautness of his form was, undeniably, impressive.

“It is a shame,” Nobara remarked, her voice breaking through your thoughts. “He does present a rather fine figure. If only his character matched his appearance.”

You blinked, realizing that your gaze had lingered on him for far too long. “What?”

Nobara glanced at you, her expression half-amused, half-pitying. “I merely observe that if his manners were as well-formed as his physique, he might be a most agreeable companion.”

You opened your fan again, waving it lightly in front of your face. “Perhaps. But we both know that appearances can be deceiving.”

Nobara’s expression turned serious as she looked at you. “You must find yourself a husband who is both well-formed and well-mannered, my dear. Else I shall be forced to gouge out my eyes every time I am called to attend on you.”

You sighed dramatically, closing your fan with a soft snap. “Whatever you say, Nobara.”

Yet, even as you dismissed her words, your gaze drifted back to the field. Gojo was a puzzle, indeed. And whether you liked it or not, he had captured more of your attention than you were willing to admit.

Satoru is sweaty and hot, and therefore he must rush back to take a cold bath. 

The weather is quite warm, he must admit to himself. Teaching Yuji had been nothing sort of pleasurable; the boy’s physical prowess was quite impressive, and he learned things very, very fast. If Yuji were to keep learning and working on his skill, he would easily be up to Gojo’s level or even surpass him. 

As he climbs up the stairs to the terrace, he wipes his brow, which has budded with sweat. When he crosses a table that overlooks the field, he notices a book. His mother and him wouldn’t expose any books like this⸺a fine and intricate design covering the top⸺to the harsh, humid weather, so he picks up the book, frowning.

Frowning, he picked it up, curiosity getting the better of him. The book felt unfamiliar in his hands, and as he opened it, the words within seemed to swim before his eyes. Annoyed, he rubbed the sweat from his forehead and squinted, finally making out the fine, neat handwriting on the page.

I confess, there is something intoxicating about the notion that women might be more than what society has so neatly confined us to be. Is it truly so outlandish to consider that we, too, possess minds capable of great thought and spirits yearning for freedom?

Satoru's eyes widened, and a flicker of intrigue sparked within him. He flipped to the next page, where the writing grew messier, more hurried.

Indeed, God truly blesses the wrong soldiers with features such as his. However, I take pride in being one of His strongest for I possess the fortitude to resist the temptation of ending Gojo’s miserable existence myself.

His eyes widened. If he had been intrigued before, now he was thoroughly captivated. This had to be you. His heart began to beat faster as he quickly turned to another page, where the ink was still fresh, and a pressed leaf lay nestled between the pages.

If I were to base my choice of husband solely on physical appearance, I must confess that Lord Gojo would be a most compelling candidate. However, to consider him without regard to his character would be a grave disservice to myself and to dear Nobara, who would bear the consequences of such a choice daily.

I hold out hope for a suitor with a similar strength of physique, one whose form displays power and grace, much like Gojo. His muscles, so clearly defined, speak of formidable strength and control—his back rippling with every pull of the bowstring, his breath labored as he steadies himself.

Alas, such attributes, though appealing, are not enough…

His fingers hovered over the delicate page, the words sinking in. A part of him wanted to laugh at your sharpness, your refusal to fall prey to his charms, but another part⸺one that kept resurfacing and resurfacing against his will, showing up even in his slumber⸺felt something else entirely.

…What a pity, indeed.

prev. the manor | next. the fall

general masterlist | series masterlist

a/n i feel like the only important plot point in this chapter is that gojo is a boobs guy

sorry if this chapter was a little icky :( i prefered publishing this than having to subject my dear beta reader to having to edit this mess or even me having to think about it further. i will rest so that the next chapter is better <3 (lots of fluffy moments to come in the next one)

gojo when you spawned in his bedroom

will finally treat myself to answering asks after I wake up since i'm done with this dreadfull chapter <333 jesus it's 3am

comment, reblog, and send in an ask to let me know ur thots :3 memes are also appreciated <3

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[sunni-stuff]

Three days had passed since Jellybean, your rescued stray, vanished. Though an outdoor enthusiast at heart, she'd never missed a meal. Now, your phone tracker beeped, signaling proximity. The crafty runt had escaped, but you were closing in. Jellybean's street-smart ways usually brought her home, yet this time felt different. As you followed the signal, hope and worry battled within.

You traveled alone as none of the townspeople were brave enough to help with your search. The mere mention of the North Woods shook them to the core, earning your request swift declines and slammed doors in your face. Whispers and rumors follow you with every interaction 

Secluded and untraceable, his cabin lies tucked away, invisible to prying eyes.

Rumors swirl of his territorial fury. Trespassers beware—this hunter stalks from afar. His domain is unforgiving, and his presence is a constant threat. The lucky ones spot the warning sign; others never see him coming.

Even the butcher, renowned for his toughness, said no, unwilling to even hear you out.

“There’s a man in the woods,” he said, voice unwavering. “You’d be smart to forget the idea.”

The boom of the door closing makes you flinch, jumping back a bit. A man in the woods? Surely not.

Even more absurd than some creep in the woods was the thought that the big, bad butcher was scared of him. This was a man who walked you home at night, who sneered at men and pulled you close to his side when you became uncomfortable. You knew him for a long time and you’d never seen him so much as flinch, but suddenly he was all squinted eyes and hushed tones at the thought of even stepping a foot off the beaten path. It couldn't be true, right?

Well, there was only one way to prove him wrong, and it was the only way you were gonna get Jellybean back. You’re going in that forest, urban myth or not.

Shadows lengthen as you exit your truck. The door closes with a hollow thud. The townsfolk's warnings replay in your mind, urging caution. You scan the area, heart racing. Drooping leaves cast an ominous veil over the forest. The murky depths seem to whisper, both alluring and forbidding.

Anxiety grips you as you take a step further. "Bean?" You whisper, voice trembling.

Silence answers. Twigs crack underfoot, and each snap creates an ominous echo. You cringe, the sounds amplifying your unease. Yet you press on, searching the quiet forest.

Minutes stretch like hours as you quietly call Bean's name, doing your best not to attract any unwanted attention, as the woods loom, hiding unknown dangers. Glancing down, your phone shows her location, unchanged, since she first wandered off. Jellybean's absence at this late hour is unsettling. She never stayed out of the house this long, and not so still, either. You can't help but think the worst, deciding to hurry closer to her, praying to find her safe.

Venturing deeper, the terrain grew wilder. Massive leaves parted, revealing fallen trunks and tilted trees. The more you looked around, the more it became clear that the uncharted wilderness wasn't made for humans.

There was no possible way.

The forest gave little leeway to those travelings through its domain. Predators strayed barely out of sight, lurking in hopes you'd be their next meal. A howl in the distance has you on edge, skin crawling, the feeling of being watched running anxious edges.

"Just keep walking. It'll be okay. The tracker says she's near." You reassured yourself under quite murmurs, trying to will your heart calm.

Then it appeared without warning.

A wolf lurches from the woodland gloom, baring his jagged canines, poised and ready to pounce. He circles you in a slow, menacing loop, foam pooling from his parted jaws. His eyes blaze with a frenzied gleam, wild and driven by something beyond hunger. Some dark, unseen force propels him, and you feel it tightening around you.

You turn and run.

Run as fast as your legs can carry you, tearing through the thick underbrush. Foliage slaps your arms and face, and the weeds clutch at your ankles like skeletal fingers desperate to drag you down. You ignore the stinging scratches, the pounding in your chest. If you fall, if you falter for even a second—you know it’s over.

Run.

The untamed beast snaps its jaws inches behind you, hot breath searing your calves, each bite narrowly missing as he hounds you with ruthless, single-minded determination. You crash through a thicket, branches clawing at your arms, tearing through your clothes, until you stumble onto a barely visible trail where weak shafts of light seep through gaps in the trees.

There’s no time to think. No time to process the sting of cuts or the burn in your lungs, nothing beyond the raw, primal instinct to get the hell away from the rabid creature on your heels.

Then you see it.

A cabin.

Really, a dilapidated shack, its sagging roof overrun with twisting vines, looms before you, barely held together by rotting beams and splintered boards. The whole structure looks one hard gust away from collapse, yet it’s the only shelter in sight. You don’t hesitate, heart hammering in your chest, and charge toward the door.

In your frantic rush, you miss the glint of watching eyes, shining like dark coals from the shadows behind, tracking your every move.

You burst inside, slamming the door shut with a desperate shove, then lean your back against it. Your chest heaves, each ragged breath scraping your lungs as you struggle to catch your breath, the weight of dread pressing down on you even harder than the beast’s pursuit.

The aroma of simmering soup wafted through the air, warmth enveloping you. A cozy scene unfolded: a bubbling pot atop a wooden stove, a modest desk tucked away, and a solitary lantern casting a soft glow. The space exuded an unexpected warmth, soft light pooling over worn furniture and the faint scent of old wood calming your frayed nerves. Your pulse slowed as the familiar coziness settled around you. Then, a gentle brush against your leg pulled you from the haze of adrenaline.

You glanced down—and there she was. Jellybean, her eyes wide and radiant, a few telltale crumbs clinging to her brown fur from some long-forgotten snack.

A rush of tenderness overtook the fading remnants of panic. You reached down, catching the elusive little troublemaker as she gave an indignant squirm. “You little—” The half-hearted scold fizzled, replaced by a sudden, overwhelming need to hold her close. “How—How did you end up here, huh?”

Holding Jellybean close, you feel the weight of your situation settling over you—a stranger in a cabin far from familiar ground, with the last of the sunlight slipping away, trapping you inside until dawn. Outside was darkness thick and impenetrable, the forest itself a living maze you dared not attempt at night.

“Shit,” you mutter, voice barely above a whisper as if speaking too loudly might stir something in the shadows.

Slowly, you move deeper into the space, eyes sweeping over the bare walls and spartan furniture. There’s something unnervingly sterile about the place—no photos, no knickknacks. Not a trace of personality or life. Who would live here? The rumors of some reclusive figure haunting these woods flash through your mind.

No. You shake your head, brushing off the thought. This was probably just some hunter’s shack. Or a place someone from town stayed now and then, just a shelter, nothing more.

Your foot presses down on a loose floorboard, and a loud creak echoes through the stillness. You freeze, heartbeat stuttering. Jellybean’s ears twitch, but she remains calm. Before you can step back, a low groan seeps from somewhere within the cabin, rolling through the floorboards, shivering up your spine.

Your grip tightens on Jellybean, and you hold your breath, listening.

“I-Is anyone there…?” Your voice barely steady. The words hover in the silence, as though the shadows themselves are holding their breath, waiting.

Then, clear as day, you hear it.

“Help… me…”

The voice is thin and broken, barely more than a whisper. Instinct screams at you to ignore it, to sit tight until morning. But something tugs at you. The sound is weak, desperate—human. The cabin feels suddenly smaller, its walls pressing in, urging you to run.

“Please… someone help me…"

A shiver races down your spine. Curse your altruism. You clutch Jellybean tighter, swallowing back the fear rising in your throat.

“U-uh, where…?” The question slips out before you can think, shaky and uncertain.

Silence stretches taut, pressing against your ears. Then, faint and low, a whining sound rises from beneath the floorboards, almost like a wounded animal. Every instinct screams at you to turn back, to stay safe. But you find yourself edging closer to the noise, heart hammering against your ribs.

Your gaze lands on a small, almost-hidden door near the far wall—the entrance to a cellar.

The pleas are louder here, wavering but persistent, each whisper curling up from the depths. “Help… please…”

You should walk away. This is a bad idea. A terrible idea. But, against every sliver of common sense, your hand reaches out, fingers trembling as they brush over the handle.

It turns with a rusty groan, and you pull the door open, revealing a narrow staircase descending into shadow. At the bottom, you catch the flicker of ember light, glowing faintly as if from a dying fire.

The cellar stretches out before you, a vast, dimly lit space far larger than should exist beneath such a modest shack. Shadows cling to the walls, the only light casting a faint, sickly orange glow that barely cuts through the murk. You step cautiously, heart-pounding, but then you glance to your right—and freeze.

The scene hits you with a nauseating force. Men hang suspended from thick meat hooks, bodies bruised and broken, some barely clinging to life, others unmoving, their faces blank and eyes empty. Their battered forms twist slightly in the air, like grotesque puppets left to dangle and rot. You swallow hard, stomach twisting as bile rises in your throat.

But then the horror deepens—recognition dawns. One face after another, familiar, each one seared into memory. The delivery driver who refused to take no for an answer, the lawyer from the pub whose relentless advances wore you down, the pizza guy who loitered outside your job, watching, waiting. All here. Hung like slabs of meat in this nightmarish cellar.

Your mind spins, the details piecing together in a sickening realization. The butcher. He’d warned them off, told you they wouldn’t bother you anymore. But this? This was something beyond any threat, beyond any punishment you’d ever imagined.

How? How had they ended up here? How did any of this exist beneath an unassuming cabin in the middle of the woods?

You weren’t supposed to see this. This was something that should have remained buried, hidden in the depths where secrets go to rot. The enormity of it presses down on you, making it hard to breathe, hard to think.

But then, one of them stirs. The pizza guy, his head lolling weakly to the side, lifts his face. His eyes, clouded and bloodshot, light up with recognition—a desperate spark of life in his hollow gaze. “Help! Please, before he comes back!” he rasps, voice cracking.

He.

The word rings in your mind, cold and jagged. He? Who could do this? Who would do this?

Your voice trembles as the question slips out, a thin whisper in the oppressive silence. “W—who… who are you talking about?”

The cellar door slams shut behind you, the echo reverberating off the cold stone walls, trapping you in the silence that follows. Heavy, methodical footsteps descend the rotting stairs, each step creaking beneath his weight. His breathing is deep, ragged, each inhale and exhale marking his slow, purposeful approach.

Don’t turn around.

Your body locks up, instinct screaming to flee, but your legs refuse to move. You clutch Jellybean tightly to your chest, but suddenly, she squirms, thrashing in your arms in a way she never has before. Confusion twists through your terror—Jellybean has always clung to you, never trying to escape. What was she doing?

With a leap, she slips from your grasp, landing soundlessly on the floor. She pads past you, moving behind you, and the silence is filled with soft, delighted purring.

You don’t want to look. You hold still, desperately hoping that if you don’t move, you’ll disappear, fade into the shadows. But you can feel him standing just behind you, the weight of his presence pressing down like a storm cloud.

And then, a voice. Familiar. Deep, smooth, and thick with a British lilt, edged with something that both chills and soothes you.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, a note of affection clear in his tone as he addresses Jellybean.

Recognition strikes you like a blow. That voice—you’ve heard it a thousand times. The same voice that always offered a warm “good evening” when he walked you home at night. The same voice that laughed as he handed Jellybean her treats at the butcher shop. The same voice that warned you, with a peculiar intensity, to avoid these woods.

The butcher.

---

A/N: I don't usually do long writing stuff... but I've had this one in the drafts for too long and wanted it out. I kind of like how it turned out but I can def improve!

[veiledfox]

The God who Vanished [ I ]

Artig huffs, having just finished summoning the last of his research materials from his Artifact's inventory. Seated in the lowest floor of the Pagoda, the dozens of papers, scrolls, and tomes, and handful of more modern books all set in the center of the floor. Setting Welt Mod at his side as he raises his free hand under his hair and behind his head to scratch at the base of his skull a bit while his mismatched eyes turn to the other two present.

"It's all... records of the presence of the Gods?" A question, given by the Doll as she eases down to her knees to take a seat opposite the Feline Man. Her eyes, enhanced by magic due to their very creation, scanning over the various articles in front of her. In the same moment, her companion Ferret Doll clambers down her arm onto the floor before beginning to scurry about the present items. Hotaru and Hoshi, taking in the information from two sets of eyes, sharing it all with each other seemlessly.

"That's right." Confirmation, with a nod, as the Man adjusts his seating. One leg sideways, the other up, both bent, arm atop his raised knee to lean against it. "The fact they did nothin' after what Kyuushi pulled was naggin' at me, in all honesty. I mostly didn't bother worrying about it for the longest time, but bit by bit that naggin' grew louder and louder. I started lookin' around for anythin' 'n' everythin' about the Gods in recent years to see if somethin' stuck out."

Hotaru hums briefly, her and her companion both turning their attention to scan for the most recent entry in the provided items. Eventually spotting a clean scroll, in near perfect condition, which with a simple nod of the Humanoid head the Ferret would bound over to and retrieve. Carrying it to their companion. The Woman easing the scroll open to take in it's contents, where she finds a list of the Japanese Deities.

"It has bothered me to, as if I really need to say that though." Kyuushi finally speaks, after taking a deep breath with a long sigh. "Though I've been so wrapped up with other things or... distracted... so I've not had a chance. Nor have I really wanted to risk it, given they've not done anything yet. Didn't want to take the chance that they were just... waiting, for some reason. I can't imagine anything among records of their presence would answ-"

"Inari..." the Doll interrupts, her brows furrowing with confusion.

"God of Foxes in the Japanese Shinto Kami." The Kitsune responding with a raised brow. "What about Inari?"

"She essentially vanished from recent history." Artig interjects quickly. "Every single God in existance has some form of presence recorded by Mythos, Mages, and Priests even up to modern day. All except for Inari."

"What?" Stepping over behind Hotaru, the Vixen bends to look over her shoulder at the scroll herself. Oceanic eyes scanning through the text present.

Amaterasu: Blessed the recovery of croplands which had suffered from lands damaged by chemicals. Healing the land, allowing crops to grow once more. Ame-no-Uzume: Graced an pair of dancers who suffered leg injuries, undoing some of the damage that had been suffered, allowing the injuries to heal properly. The pair of dancers have become well known in online circles. Inari: Izanagi: Prayed to by a Priest and Mother to relieve a Child of their illness, after traditional remedies and modern medicines had failed to provide relief. The Boy's symptoms lessened within the hour, then gradually receeded during the next week. Izanami: Granted death to a suffering Man who had lost his leg and been impaled in a car accident. Last words were a prayer to the Goddess of Death, shortly after which his expression seemed to turn to one of peace and he passed on. Susanoo: Invoked during a traditional wedding held near the ocean where to bless and watch over the couple. The waters began to grow wild during the ceremony, but abruptly calmed as Izanagi was prayed to by the couple. Tsukuyomi: A Man who had been wronged invoked the name of Tsukuyomi while cursing out those who had wronged him, demanding order be returned and the injustices he had suffered be punished. One of those who had wronged him was found dead the next day by unkown means, and those who remained did all they could to revert the damage that had been done in fear for meeting the same fate.

"Her entry is empty. It's like that for everything in the past few centuries." Artig speaks again, after a moment of silence as he watched the Kitsune read the contents of the scroll. "The last mention of Inari doing... anythin', is a while before the Grand War between the Grand Kitsune and the Gods. Though as I asked around while tryin' to get all this material, no one seemed to be aware until I mentioned it. Nor is there any indication that anyone's made a big deal of it."

"Guide us through everything." Kyuushi responds, pulling her eyes away from the scroll as she sits down next to Hotaru. The trio of Mythos then delving deep into the various sources of records and logs to seek out any and all information they could. The once singular perspective now tripled, which would hopefully shed new light on... anything, really.

[ghost-bxrd]

In honor of Mermay I just had a THOUGHT about abyssal mer Jason.

Like, he’s such a little cutie patootie when Bruce first finds him and integrates him into his little clan consisting of an acrobatic reef mer and and older, regular shallows mer.

And Jason is so smol and cute and fits right along the curve of Bruce’s tail in a way that makes him essentially vanish from the sight of predators. And, sure, his scales look a bit sturdier and stranger than the ones they know from other species of mer. And his tail fin is a bioluminescent veil of delicate membranes he uses to lure curious little fish and eat them, not to mention his tail is about thrice as long than that of other mers. But he’s just so adorable and obviously starving that Bruce, Dick, AND Alfred all disregard the strange little things about their newest pod member adding up in favor of absolutely coddling him. Mer children are rare enough as is, having one that’s so obviously malnourished is basically a crime.

So Jason grows. A lot. And then he dies.

And then he comes back just as a couple fishermen are ecstatic over having caught a live mer, water churning, and suddenly this absolute leviathan rises up from the ocean. Easily ten times the size of the fishermen’s ship.

[inknopewetrust]

𝔉𝔬𝔬𝔱𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔭𝔰 𝔬𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔖𝔱𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔰

summary: in the blistering summer evening heat, you and felix play a little game. [felix x fem reader. WC: 2.6k]

warnings: smut. minors dni (18+ only). p in v, fingering (fem receiving), saltburn bathtub, slight voyeurism, dirty, dirty talk, some degrading language, not the dirtiest thing but still like… kinda hot?

Though the sun had set long before, the lingering scorch of the sun sat like a film on your skin. Its thin veil dry and aching to shrivel against the boiling water of the tub. You felt the sticky nature disappear under the trails of steam that painted the surface of the water.

A bead of sweat pebbled from your temple to cheek to chin to neck.

But you lit a cigarette anyway. And if you listened close enough, you could hear the crackle.

A blistering bud sizzles; the porcelain was drawing cool waves against the skin of your arms and for once, in the vast nothingness of the bathroom, the heat that rose from its surface made the ghosts vanish.

It made them disappear in house once home to Kings.

Now, as it boiled under the night sky, it was home to something other. It had bled itself into the walls and the ghosts wished to witness not the haggard scrounging of wealth that festered within.

But you imagined Henry the Eighth liked to stare as you bathed. They all did. Felix had told you that once a few summers ago.

How they all wanted to touch you in the ways that he did. How they wanted to whisper in your ear that they were better than him. No one truly was and it kept you crawling back with the poor souls who got sucked into a heated whirlpool of pity each and every summer.

Nevertheless, you envisioned Henry in the corner itching to touch.

They all trembled to flutter their hands onto your skin, onto your breasts, squeezing pieces of you dipped below the waterline.

If his ghost could smile, Henry’s ghastly teeth gleamed.

‘Fuck off, Henry,’ you saw the paunchy apparition lounging in the chair in the corner with a bead of sweat dribbling from his own temple.

Oh, envy, King Henry.

A bit of ash fell onto the tiles below.

“You’re making a mess of it.”

You tapped the cig on the side of the tub as another bit of ash wilted to the cold floor.

Felix hummed.

Stocky Henry vanished. If you gazed toward him, Felix’s eyes bore deep. Heavy and brooding, downcast at a peak of what existed beyond the bubbled suds.

Dinner had long passed. Everyone was supposed to be in bed.

He could feel you in inches. The soft skin of your back, the plush thighs that laid between his own. A hand of his traced over the skin of your collarbone gently as the ash continued to drift.

You were nearly on fire. In the swelter of the stone walls and the patterns of the paper before him, you glowed in a red sweat.

“You’re letting it die.”

“I was thinking,” you murmured.

“About what?”

“King Henry.”

“King Henry?” Felix’s voice peaked. His head leaned to rest on your shoulder, his smile leaving a trail as it grew. His nose drew a delicate line on your dampened skin.

You liked Felix in this way. So quiet and removed. But Saltburn always kept pace in the background.

“Yes, King Henry,” his hand glided along your own, gently taking hold of the cigarette and placing it between his lips.

The smoke of the puff rose high into the air beside you. It’s curls twisted like your insides aching for a touch too far but never too close.

“I like to imagine them sitting… staring at us now.”

“Now?” Felix questioned. “So erotic in an ugly tub. I can see him now,” he pointed to the corner of the room, “he just popped one. Can’t you see it? In his trousers there.”

You grinned. Your laugh filled his chest with a shuddering life. So fulfilled and free yet trapped in this same world as he.

And he was never far away. Here, in Saltburn, always waiting in the same shadows for the opportunity to strike while the others weren’t around. No sister or friends or parents or mewling poor fighting for his attention. They were retired for the evening; all snuggled in beds with curtains drawn and fantasy dancing in their heads.

“He isn’t the only one.”

You tipped your head to the side. The profile of your face meeting his forehead as he dipped his own downwards. The cigarette still burning from his fingertips. It was a mere bud now.

You could feel what waited for you on your lower back.

“I can feel that, you know?” You feigned an innocence he liked. Keen and blatant, but cunning with sin.

“Is it Henry that makes you feel that why?” You whispered, lips ghosting his chin.

Felix breathed in deeply. The same chest that shuddered with joy in anticipation.

Every summer.

The excitement would stir within his bones as the gates would open wide and beside his family would be the one steady thing he had everything to give.

“I hope,” Felix hushed, “for your own sake that’s not the fucking case.”

“So it’s me?”

Felix groaned as you pushed against him. The gentle pressure of your body arching into him without a touch, he begged to put his hands on you.

The cigarette fell to the floor in its end.

Felix took his hand and turned your head back to face him with a firm grip on your jaw. The water around you sloshed. It cleared the bubbles from your chest.

“I want to play a game,” he suggested in a dusty, breathless tone. “Want to play, darling?”

“Can I win?” You suggested. His hand loosened, letting the fingers dance along the column of your neck before beckoning up toward your mouth once more.

His index finger traced the outline of your lips. In a slow glide, Felix pulled your lower lip out slightly, gathering the wetness with his finger before inching it back to the space where your lips had parted.

You kissed his finger with your tongue as it found purchase in the suction of your mouth. The plushness of your tongue, the slight drag of your teeth as it emerged from between your lips.

“I don’t want to play if I can’t win, Felix,” you whispered.

His eyes now hooded with a thick want. He watched his finger redraw the lines of your lips again as you begged with doe eyes to win. A near child’s play of a woman’s ability to seduce.

“You can win,” Felix huffed as his other hand snaked itself from the edge of the tub to your torso under the water. “But I’ll need you to be quiet. We have guests and as much as I do love our dear, sweat guests, I can’t have them imagining the way I fuck you, can I?”

“No,” you relished in the way his hand returned to the base of your throat and squeezed with the slightest amusement. “I’ll be quiet.”

“Good,” Felix smiled at you. Your heart squeezed in the same way your cunt ached for his fingers to gather the strength to follow through.

“What do I win?”

“Whatever the fuck you want. You just have to be quiet.”

You smiled deviously that the thought.

“I can’t see how we’d be able to look a boy like Ollie in the eyes if he heard the sounds that come out of your mouth.”

His hand swooped past your center and to your leg, drawing one over his own which sat you straighter in his hold. You felt his cock jump at the pressure of you pushing on him. Felix flitted his finger tips from your knee to waist, switching hands to bring his wet palm to your breast while the other perched your opposite leg over his other.

The pebbled nipple was taut as he kneaded the skin in circles. He pressed down hard, pulling up on your nipple to elicit the sounds he wanted so badly to hear but knew you’d repress.

You were like him in many ways. He too wanted to win a game of control.

With you in his hands like a play of putty, he felt in control but with one hand on the wheel.

As he palmed your breast, his hand gripped your thigh. His mouth traced a pattern of hot breath along your neck as his tongue relished the salty sweat that had gathered at its leisure. The goosebumps that rose from your skin welcomed his breath kindly.

“I want this house to ourselves,” Felix moaned. “So we don’t have to be quiet.”

“Tell me what you’d do,” you asked him, placing your hand over his own and bringing his fingers to you. He cupped your heat as you groaned, guiding him back and forth to gather the wetness he could feel different from the water of the tub.

“Tell me what you’d do to me.” You spoke faintly. “Tell me and I’ll be quiet.”

You guided one of Felix’s fingers in you as he shushed the sounds that threatened to speak themselves into existence.

He put his lips on your ear as he began to pump his fingers in and out of you with a slow glide. So plush and tight, he thought to himself. It sucked him in and dared not to spit him out.

“I would fuck you on the floor,” he breathed out against your cheek. “I’d spread you wide and taste your sweet pussy as the sun bathes the floor. And when I’m done, we go to the pool-“

Felix pulled out his finger, tracking it along your folds before going in with two. You arched against his back, drawing up as he pulled you back down and rested his hand on your waist.

You curled the toes of your right foot down the edge of the tub.

“-we’d go to the pool and sit out in the sun. You’d give me head in one of the chairs and I’d paint your fucking face with my cum.”

You clenched around his fingers. His thumb pressed into your clit, another jolt aching to send you squirming but he held you down as he patterned circles on the gentle flesh.

“You like that, don’t you?” He breathed in the smell of you. “And maybe we’d go for a walk through the maze after dinner. I’d fuck you in the center and you could scream as loud as you fucking want. No one could get to us. No one would hear us.”

“F-F-“

“No, no, no, shh,” Felix shushed. “Good girls only win by being quiet, yeah?”

You nodded, clenching onto his fingers again as a strangled ‘fuck’ tumbled out of his lips. He could imagine the coil building. Felix wasn’t going to let you finish alone.

Felix pulled his fingers from you and felt the disappointment in the wither of your body.

“But I don’t want to imagine what’d I’d do if we were alone,” Felix blanked. “Turn around.”

As the water sloshed around you, you turned to wrap your arms around his neck. Like you, Felix had sweat beading from his jaw that glimmered in the red light of the bathroom. He looked intoxicated, entranced but in control of what he could.

“I want to see you ride me like the fucking whore you are.”

You weren’t a whore. But for Felix, you could be anything.

At the nape of his neck, you gripped the back of his hair and drew his head back as your other hand gripped him under the water.

Hard and lengthy, his cock was a welcome intrusion every time. You pumped him in your hand slowly. The sounds of water creating currents was soothing against the sounds of your battered breaths kissing his own. You lifted yourself on your knees, leaning against Felix as he squeezed your ass tightly, watching as you lowered yourself onto him under the water. Slender and veined, your cunt molded to him like art. You both would never tire of the feeling so profound.

It would never be like this with anyone else.

Loose pants left his lips as you sat completely full of him. A fit for a King in his own home, he supposed. Once you had settled with him inside, you moved above him.

The water moved languidly too. Meeting the fiery skin of two intoxicated minds too oblivious to see the peering eyes between the crack of a door.

“Right there, baby, right there,” Felix mumbled as you rose again and again, drawing him in and out as he stretched you with every swell and spur he could muster on his own.

“You’re such a good girl, darling. So good for me.”

You could peer down at him from above. Your breath fanning his face and lips but never seeking to truly kiss him as your hand tangled in his hair.

Bits of water spilled over the tub and splashed onto the floor. It soaked the ash tray and the speckles of ash and bud that littered the floor.

“Don’t stop baby. Don’t fucking stop,” Felix crooned in the room’s empty sounds. Only the pleasured sighs and gasping breaths filled the air.

You bounced on his cock with a measured pace. Each stroke of his manhood against your velvet walls lured him deeper into you, entangled with the missing links of a year gone by.

“Felix,” you broke the rules to whisper in his ear. He was taken away by the insatiable need of his rapture. He listened. He beckoned to your call.

“Tell me that you love me.”

From the shadows, Oliver Quick felt his blood run as hot as the sun. He loved Felix.

“I love you.”

Whom did not love him back.

“Tell me you need me.”

He was enamored by the idea of Felix.

“I need you.”

Who was enamored with the idea of Oliver.

“And what do you want from me?”

He was taken by the sight before him.

“I need you to cum, baby. I need you to fucking cum for me.”

Oliver was taken by the gleam of your skin. The way Felix’s throat bobbed as a strangled groan escaped his lips and the way your own melted onto his forehead in a silent struggle to come down from a high.

You placed both hands on his slender chest, careening like winged victory in a heated satisfaction.

Your fingers shook.

He had never seen a woman shake so elegantly before. The tremble of your lips as you breathed in shaking respite, the jolt of your shoulder blade as Felix ran a hand up your back.

Oliver licked his lips at the sight.

Felix lifted his head from its position against the tub. His eyes fluttered open as you pulled away in the slightest.

And Felix smiled.

You returned the grin with one of your own as his still sat erect inside of you. The bubbles of the tub had long ceased to exist and the water that was left was filled with the combined spent of you both.

“I don’t think I won that one,” you chuckled quietly, pushing hair out of Felix’s face before cupping his cheek in your hand.

“I’ll take pity on you, I guess.”

“The water’s gone cold.”

Felix kissed the inside of the palm of your hand. He cherished the high that lingered.

“The water’s gone cold,” he repeated. “But we could stay here forever.”

“Pruned and sweaty? Not a chance in fucking hell, Felix.” You laughed a bit too loudly. Oliver disappeared at the groan Felix let out as you pulled off of him.

You stood before him as the water dripped from every piece of you. Marbled and finite of the most precious carvings he only wished to hold forever.

As you exited the tub and the throb of him began to settle, you grabbed his linen shirt from the floor, draping it over you as it stuck to the wetness of your skin.

“The bed is just the slightest bit more comfortable.”

And you disappeared behind his doorway with call for more as the walls of Saltburn added another sordid story to add to it woven trims.

But it was never just the walls of Saltburn watching.

A/N: as always, the best gift of reading is likes AND reblogs and why not, we love comments too. Thank you for reading and feel free to check out my other works on my masterlist here. xo

[imaginedanvrs]

caught in a snare

masterlist

dark!wandanat x reader

word count: 4k

warnings: alcohol consumption, intoxication, mind reading, degrading, forced entry, mind control, bondage, non-con turned dub-con, oral (r giving), gun play, knife play, choking, threats of violence, inflicted violence, fingering (r receiving), strap on sex (r receiving), double penetration, anal

You were blissfully unaware of the forest green eyes that followed your every drunken move as you danced with your friends. If you were sober, maybe you would have caught on to the feeling of being watched by the redhead whose gaze was laid thick on you while you seemed oblivious to the world around you.

  “Come on,” a brunette said to your observer as she returned to the bar. “This place is a dump and I'm not feeling it tonight,” she continued with disdain, her accent peaking through so briefly it would have been missed by anyone in the club listening in. “Nat,” she huffed when she noticed her girlfriend wasn't listening, too focused on the mass of bodies dancing in the barely lit room.

  “Remember when you gave me shit for not getting you an anniversary present?” The redhead asked as she stared at the peak of skin between your jeans and shirt.

  The brunette didn't answer, instead following Natasha’s gaze and swiftly finding the object of her attention. She hummed in acknowledgement, instantly becoming just as curious by you as they watched you blatantly ignore a stranger's advances so that you wouldn't miss a second of the song that was making the walls vibrate.

  “The two in dresses are going to go to the toilets to fuck and the other one’s going to dance with the guy with the snake tattoo,” Natasha assessed.

  “Well I'm sure she won't want to stay any longer by then,” Wanda mused as she took in your giddy smile.

  As if on queue, one of your friends took the other by the hand with haste and dragged her through the club without a word to you. Meanwhile, your other friend began guiding her pursuer's hands to her hips, becoming quickly immersed in his touch. A few moments passed without you noticing your friends' engagements and Natasha tutted. Once it clicked, you looked like a deer caught in headlights. 

  You scanned the room as you stopped moving, wondering where best to situate yourself as you got your bearings and felt all the alcohol you had consumed that night hit you at once. You were clearly disorientated as you stumbled through the crowd.

  “Reckless thing, who knows who would snatch her up if we weren't here,” Natasha chided.

  “Come on, маленький, come to us,” Wanda encouraged. You couldn't hear them several metres away, nor did Wanda use her telepathic aid, yet it was the bar you found yourself clinging to a minute later.

  “Water please,” you asked the bartender, your speech slightly slurred. The pair advanced.

  “You alright, honey?” Wanda enquired with a concerned smile. It was exactly what you needed to see at that moment.

  “Yeah,” you replied, entirely unconvincing as you smiled anxiously at the pair.

  “You look ready to go home,” Wanda continued.

  “My friends are here,” you informed quickly. The older woman was right, you did want to go, but you needed to wait for them.

  “But they're not here,” Natasha noted. You bit your lip as you searched the crowd for them, missing the glass of water placed in front of you. It vanished a second later.

  “Let us help get you home, sweetie, it's not safe to be out on your own,” Wanda said. It was hard to deny her and perhaps if the pair weren't wearing their widow veils and you knew they were Avengers, you wouldn't have objected.

  “I'm not on my own,” you insisted even though your friends were nowhere to be found. “Thank you but-” Wanda didn't have the patience to spend anymore time convincing you. It wasn't conversation the pair wanted from you. 

  “We're taking you home,” she stated, eyes flashing red so briefly that you passed it off as the strobe lights. Just like that, everything seemed to fall into place and a stress free, though still intoxicated, beam appeared on your lips 

  “Thank you,” you said sincerely. 

  “You're something else,” Natasha muttered to her partner as she got up to lead the way. Wanda placed a gentle yet assertive hand on your waist and guided you to follow Natasha while she followed behind, her hand becoming firmer the more bodies you had to get through.

  The fresh air that soon hit you did nothing to sober you up and only made you more disorientated, so much so that you were oblivious to the fact you three had left through a previously locked fire exit. You leaned back on Wanda when the alleyway you found yourself in started to spin. 

  “Woah,” you muttered. The two women shared a look as they helped you into their car. You didn't know you were in a flashy stingray, but when Natasha turned the car on you noticed the expensive interior and began to panic that you would throw up in it.

  “Are you getting her address or shall I?” The brunette besides you asked. You frowned.

  “It's twenty-”

  “Shh,” Wanda assured, suddenly guiding your head into her lap. You were about to protest until you were struck with a sudden sense of peace, oblivious to the red whispered that danced around your head. You gave a contented sigh and simultaneously felt your drunken haze being lifted.

  “I don't know your names,” you spoke out without alarm.

  “I'm Wanda and that's Nat,” Wanda said sweetly. You really liked her.

  “Like the Avengers?” You asked in awe and almost missed Nat's chuckle. “That's cool,” you muttered. The pair glanced at each other in the mirror with knowing smirks. “I'm y/n.”

  “Pretty name,” Wanda commented as she tucked the hair behind your ear. “Pretty face,” she added. You felt the heat rise to your cheeks at the attention and squirmed under her gaze. Wanda returned her firm hand to your hip and you stilled.

  Pretty anniversary present, Natasha input.

  Belated anniversary present, Wanda corrected.

  Tell me she's not worth it.

  Depends how well she takes the red one, Wanda mused. She felt Natasha's excitement at the concept but kept quiet to not distract from the Friday night streets.

  Once they pulled up by your apartment, Wanda prompted for you to sit up and you thankfully did so without a wave of nausea hitting you. You weren't expecting the pair to follow you inside but simply put it down to two women helping another out, even if you were considerably less drunk than when they found you.

  “Lifts broken and I'm on the third floor. You don't have to follow me up,” you informed the pair as you almost tripped on a step. Wanda gave you a look that told you they weren't going so you led the way, unaware of the eyes that flickered to your ass.

  It was only once you were turning the keys in the lock and thanking the pair that your sense of caution returned. You, somehow, weren't drunk anymore and yet these women you didn't know were still lingering outside of your apartment. 

  “Really, I'd hate to keep you from continuing your night,” you said as you stood in the open doorway that you wanted closed.

  “It's barely begun,” Wanda mumbled as she brought her hand to your temple. You made to step away from her touch but your entire body was suddenly trapped in a state of paralysis. “Go to your room and strip,” she whispered, the tenderness she had earlier possessed now gone. Another difference was when your body complied with the order, your mind screamed at you not to. You were overtaken with fear as you made your way through the small apartment and heard the door close as the pair wandered in behind you. 

  “Oh, malysh, you should really take better care of yourself,” Wanda commented in what you now knew to be a condescending tone. You felt your anger brew as you realised she was going through your belongings while you undressed for her.

  “We'll do that for you,” Natasha suddenly spoke right behind you. She undid your bra and grazed her lips over your shoulder, smirking at the goosebumps that arose. “Be a good toy for her and maybe I'll play nice,” she whispered and you could do nothing to push her away.

  “Oh, Nat, you're scaring the poor thing,” Wanda chuckled as they watched you obediently take your underwear off. The moment they were discarded, you were given a heavy shove that made you lean over the side of your bed while your knees hit the floor with a painful thud. You whimpered at the pain it ignited and heard a pitiful coo from one of the women as your chin was lifted. Your eyes widened at what you took in.

  The two Avengers stood before you, rid of their clothes and masks and instead holding weapons. Wanda’s eyes were glowing red as she stared at you while her magic flowed freely from her fingers. The whisps flickered momentarily as you felt an intense pressure keep you down before it was listed for you to roam freely. Yet you wouldn’t dare, not when you knew what she could do along with the sinister handgun held at the redhead’s side.

  “So you do have some smarts about you,” Wanda said, confirming the rumours that had circulated in the media months ago that she could read minds.

 “”Here’s the deal, приятная вещь, you can behave and do exactly what we say,” the brunette explained as she sat herself at the head of your bed while Natasha grabbed at the back of your neck and hoisted you up to the space between Wanda’s spread legs. “Or we can make you,” she said just as the unforgiving steel of Natasha’s gun pressed into your bare back. “Either way…” she snaked her hand around to the hair at the back of your head and forced you to gaze down at her wet cunt. You wondered at what point in that twisted scene she had become so aroused, and why there was a growing ache between your own legs at the sight. 

  You weren’t blind to the fact that god clearly hadn’t spared them any favours in looks and that you, like many, had been crushing on the female Avengers for some time, but the situation they had put you in wasn’t right, so why did Wanda look so goddamn tempting?

  It was wrong, it was immoral, it was altogether fucked up, but with a sharp tug to your hair, your mouth was on the brunette. The second you tasted her, you didn’t need the threat of repercussions to keep you in place. Your tongue delved between her pussy lips and the moan you heard in response sealed your place in their arrangement and your own fate.

  “Fuck, you always have a good eye for them,” Wanda gasped.

  “Anything for you, моя любовь,” Natasha winked back. “I know she’s your present, but I hope you don’t mind if I just…” You heard the redhead trail off but ignored the distant alarm bells in your mind to instead give all your attention to flicking your tongue across Wanda in an effort to savour and explore her. 

  You were pulled from your lustful trance when you felt a cold blade press against your hip. Your eyes snapped to Wanda in a silent plea only to see her features brighten with excitement.

  “Just don’t go too deep this time,” Wanda chuckled as she watched the scene unfold with anticipation and pulled you in close enough that you could no longer catch her dark eyes.

  At the first cut, you inevitably jumped and scrambled to get away from the glistening blade but you were held in place by one strong hand to your back. Kept still against the already stained bedsheets, you whimpered and cried pitifully as Natasha’s skilled hands littered cuts across you, leaving scarlet streaks in place. 

  “Don’t stop,” Natasha warned with a deeper strike. “I’m barely touching you,” she huffed disapprovingly, pausing to let you recover and continue. You did so tentatively, waiting for the next sting to be inflicted but several minutes passed with the redhead merely tracing your skin with the back of her knife and you soon became fixated on Wanda again. 

  The cuts stung, but so did your scalp every time the brunette tugged and eventually those sensations entwined in the turmoil and were pushed to the background as Wanda’s pulsing clit became centre stage. The muscles of her thighs clamped around your head as her breathy moans and curses filled the room.

  “Such a good fucking mouth she’s got on her,” the brunette spoke and though it wasn’t directed at you, you flushed with pride. 

  Wanda came with an ecstatic cry and you swore that the taste of her cum was worth every cut that had littered across you. You missed Natasha’s approving hum at the sight, too caught up in making sure you didn’t miss a drop of her girlfriend. You swirled your tongue everywhere you could reach until Wanda was pushing you away. You whined. 

  “Greedy thing,” Wanda tutted with amusement, gripping your chin. 

  “I can’t blame her,” Natasha muttered, suddenly leaning over your body to your raised chin where, instead of kissing you, she licked the wetness that had gathered just below your lips. 

  “Let me watch you, Nat,” Wanda said as she watched you shift uncomfortably. “Give me a show.” You frowned, not understanding what the younger Avenger meant but apparently Natasha did. She wrapped her hand around the front of your throat and pulled you back with her until your calves were by your sides and your back was flat against Natasha’s front. 

  “So fragile,” the redhead commented as her hand previously on your neck travelled down gradually. She nipped along your shoulder and neck as she explored your stomach and squeezed your tits. Your breath hitched and you tried to move your neck away from Natasha’s markings but she easily overpowered you. 

  “If you keep squirming like that you might make my finger slip,” Natasha tutted as she tapped her gun against your stomach, her finger ready on the trigger. 

  “Please,” you whimpered as the redhead trailed her gun across you, settling it under your chin. Your throat briefly skimmed it when you swallowed your nerves. 

  “Please what, malysh?” Wanda asked. You looked at her with a plea that got stuck in your mouth the moment you took in how she was touching herself. “Go on,” she encouraged as she rubbed her swollen clit. 

  “She wants to hear you beg,” Natasha whispered to you, her free hand settling between your legs where she found your cunt to be as wet as her partner’s. “Do it,” Natasha ordered with a firm press of her weapon, adamant on seeing her present perform as she was expected to. 

  “Please don’t kill me,” you rushed out. Both women chuckled, seemingly not taking your request seriously in the slightest. 

  “That’s not what you really want to beg for,” Wanda said, teasing her entrance with two fingers. Your own pussy throbbed as Natasha’s digits ghosted over your neglected clit. “Beg her to fuck you,” she said, eyes dangerously dark. 

  “I…I don’t- ah!” You exclaimed as Natasha pressed hard on your clit and rubbed tight circles. “Fuck,” you cursed as you fought against your desires, inevitably loosing when you heard the redhead cock her gun. “Please fuck me,” you whimpered. 

  “I didn’t catch that,” Wanda smirked. 

  “Please fuck me!” You begged as Natasha’s rough fingers were stripped away. 

  “Why?” She mused as she dragged her wet nails down your stomach.

  “Because-” you hissed. “Because I need it, please!” You cried out, unable to distinguish if it was a plea for your life or for your pleasure. 

  “There it is,” Natasha smirked to her partner as she pushed three fingers in without warning. You were wet enough to take them, but the ache of the stretch was still very much present. “Fuck, what a tight slut,” the redhead chuckled as she thrust her fingers into your depths with persistence. You whined at the sting as Natasha scissored her digits against your soft walls, thumbing at your clit as you squirmed. 

  “You’re driving the pretty whore crazy, Natty,” Wanda moaned as she fingered herself steadily at the sight. “Does that feel good, detka?”

  “So good!” You moaned without hesitation, resting your head back on Natasha’s shoulder. She tossed the gun to the side and picked up her knife as she thrust her fingers wildly, bringing the shining blade up to your neck. You could hardly register it. You were so intoxicated with the feeling of the woman behind you filling you up, but the hot sting across your neck was prominent. 

  Your hands pinned between your bodies struggled to free themselves and grab at the knife, no matter how futile, but Natasha’s body didn't budge and your hands remained trapped. Luckily, the redhead didn’t linger too long on your neck and planted small cuts back down your torso. Though at that time, they bothered you far less. 

  “She looks so good like that,” Wanda groaned when you winced amongst the pleasure. “More,” she demanded and suddenly the cuts were deeper. A sob was dragged from your throat and Natasha merely fingered you harder in response. 

  “I can feel you gripping my fingers,” Natasha husked. “Don’t you dare cum before her,” she warned as she placed her knife against your throat again. You whined desperately in protest, unsure if you were going to be able to hold off much longer, especially when the redhead deliberately pressed against the spot that made your world spin. 

  “I can’t…I need- please!” You exclaimed as you struggled, giving Wanda the most pleading look you could manage. 

  “Poor thing,” Wanda mused as she fucked herself knuckle deep, letting you glimpse how soaked she was everytime she pulled them out. “You want me to cum?” She asked with a pout. 

  “Please,” you sobbed. 

  “Please,” Natasha mocked, curling her fingers harder. 

  Wanda came again with a low moan, shuddering against your headboard as she thrust her digits steadily through her orgasm. You thought that you yourself were seconds away from your own relief but the sadistic redhead withdrew her fingers and forced you to continue to watch the pleasure you were deprived of. You almost protested when you saw Wanda’s blissed smile but wisely restricted it to a needy whine. 

  “What’s the matter, love? You wanted to cum too?” Wanda asked, eyes sparkling with mischief. 

  “Yeah,” you said, voice hoarse.

  “You think you can manage that?” Wanda questioned as her fingertips produced a red glow until a blood red dildo appeared between the Sokovian’s legs securely. Similarly, you felt something obnoxious prod into your back from Natasha. Your eyes widened as you took in the large toy, recognising that you had never taken anything nearly that big before. Most likely hearing your thoughts, Wanda stroked the toy several times, as though giving you a preview of how it was going to stretch.

  “Don’t worry, it’ll help that you’re fucking soaked,” Natasha chuckled. A red glow appeared again though that time Wanda wrapped her magic around your body as she lay on her back and draped you over her with only your ass in the air for Natasha to grab. 

  “Wait,” you stammered when the toy brushed past your clit and teased your hole. Feeling the wide head spread your lips apart, you looked to Wanda to plead for more preparation but you didn’t get the chance because the redhead was forcing you down. 

  The stretch was unforgiving in its pressure and burn, forcing your soft walls apart with every inch it took. It filled you up in its entirety as Wanda guided your open mouth to her nipples where your moans became muffled and your eyes fluttered closed dutifully. 

  “Almost in, you just need your slutty holes filled by us, don’t you?” Wanda asked as she stroked your hair, a stark contrast to her words and the actions of her girlfriend who was forcing her inside you. “You just have to lay pretty and take it,” she said as the rest of the toy was shoved into your cunt. 

  “There you go,” Natasha hummed. 

  “Hurts,” you wheezed before your mouth was forced back around the Sokovian’s nipples. 

  “But it feels so good too, doesn’t it?” Wanda cooed as she lifted you off of the strap on only to slam you back down as she began to thrust. In your position, she could only pull out half way but it meant that the stretch lingered for longer while the pleasure emerged. 

  Once you were all consumed in the bliss of Wanda fucking your throbbing pussy, you jumped as Natasha spit on your ass and let it dribble down until it reached your tightest hole. You whined when she grazed her thumb over your ass, letting it hover in the anticipation of what you knew she was about to do and didn’t quite want to stop. 

  Natasha pushed her thumb past your ring just as Wanda filled you up with her fake cock and you let her nipple go with a gasp, clawing at the bedsheets around you to help adjust to the intrusion. “Fuck!” You groaned as the redhead toyed with your ass. She flexed and pumped her thumb inside you several times before replacing it with two fingers that had you spinning. 

“So fucking tight,” Natasha grunted. “Feel it, Wand.” You didn’t understand what that meant and you missed the red hues covering Wanda’s iris as she peaked into her partner’s mind to experience what she felt, cursing at the ghost sensations around her fingers. 

  “Ruin her for me, Natty,” Wanda encouraged with twisted adoration and began fucking your cunt with a refreshed vigour you weren’t prepared for. In that same split second, Natasha pulled her fingers out and pushed her strap against your ass, gripping your hips harshly as her cock stretched you open. 

  “Too much,” you protested but the redhead merely pushed your face into the bed and used it as better means to fuck you with. Suddenly, you were more full than you ever could have imagined as both your cunt and your ass were stuffed with the older women’s cocks while you lay weak against them. 

  Natasha spit on her dildo as she dragged the toy out of you, stroking it several times before pushing it back in entirely. Tears soaked your bedsheets at what you could’ve sworn felt like being split open to accompany the redhead’s toy down to the base with her hips flush against you. 

  The moment they began thrusting together, you crumbled, unable to handle the force they used to fuck you or the fact that it felt so fucking good. Your moans were incoherent against the bed but no one seemed to care when the wet sounds from your cunt spoke loud enough for you. 

  “Such a good fucktoy,” Natasha groaned as she snapped her hips against you. “Happy anniversary, moya lyubov,” she grinned, pushing your head down further as she leant over you to embrace her girlfriend in a heated kiss you hardly registered. Their pace didn’t falter as they made out over you, continuing to pump themselves into your holes harder. 

  You couldn’t even move between the pair. You were trapped between their overpowering frames as they thrust as deep as they could each time and rubbed every nerve enough to make your body weaker by the second. You were consumed by them, all together entangled in the mess of twisted pleasure you only became more lost in until you reached the point of no return. You couldn’t communicate this to the pair but luckily one of them was already in your head. 

  “Cum, sweet thing,” Wanda coaxed. “Show us how much of a desperate slut you really are.” With that, you tripped and stumbled over the edge in a disorientated blur, falling blissfully through the air until you were slumped right back in that bed with the two Avengers who showed no signs of stopping. 

  “I can’t,” you tried to tell them, yet you did just moments later.

  “We’re going to have so much fun with you,” Wanda whispered against your ear as she slowed her pace for you to be able to process her words. “We’re just getting started,” she told you when an unrelenting pressure started around your neck once more.