#cw feelings of unworthiness

[voidselfshipp]

Too Sweet

Cw:mentions of blood,implications of Gore,slaughter, war, mania attacks + ptsd flashbacks.

Summary: during one of their sieges, The Mechanisms split off to take care of the occupying forces of King Cole's army. One of them gets too close to Jerico and Tim sees red.

>no rbs, please.

Adrenaline surged through tims body as he laid there hands dripping with blood, a soldier dead before him.

His body shakes a manic grin on his face as he looks at the bloody corpse, laugh starting to echo from his throat. The world around him is a blurr,his eyes are wide and his pupils are small dots in his gorgeous brown iris.

With shaking hands, he lets go of his victims throat-- I told you not to touch her--He muttered with a shaky unstable voice,laughter soon leaves him.

"Thats- thats what he gets- thats what they get for- for touching her! Haha! Nobody touches my- My girlf- my friend" he thinks, slowly straightening up from his half bowed position.

--Hah-- He scoffs, smoothing his beautiful brown curly hair with his bloodstained hand-- hah, wanker...you really thought...you could hurt her

Around him the world is Fire,burning and crumbling buildings, dead bodies all around, vehicles no more than scrap and black smoke clouds rising from the pyres up to the Sky

The Mechanisms had come here to fight against an occupying force, one of the soldiers tried to stab Jerico in the neck...and Tim saw red and ripped the soldier appart with hands and teeth.

--Tim...--calls out jerico,lowering her sniper rifle. She grabs one of his hands Gently,it smothers with blood-- Tim im okay

He turns to her,eyes still wide and fingers twitching-- Doll....doll-- he throws himself at her,cupping her cheeks and looking for any scratches--Are you okay? Are you hurt? Do- do I need to call Marius?! Please tell me youre okay- i cant- I cant lose you,I cant lose you like bertie...!

She takes his wrists and says--Tim, Tim its okay im okay,im safe

Tims eyes look around her face and body,his hands pressing against her waist,her shoulders and her hips,staining her clothes with crimson sploches.

--Its okay,im not hurt,you saved me--She cooed, bringing Him in for a tight hug. His forehead falls limply on her shoulder as she strokes up and down his spine.

A shaky breath leaves him, his twitching hands unsure where to rest. Even when he tries he accidentally tugs at her clothes,gasping for air.

--I cant lose you,I cant lose you-- He whispers,tears threatening to spill-- dont die- please dont die...dont die on me I cant-- with a quivering Lower lip-- I cant- I love you so much, please dont leave me...dont leave me forever

His words take her by surprise,she squeezes him into a tight hug and his hands finally settle on her Lower back--I cant live without you--He mutters, hot tears falling down his face and onto the exposed shoulder of his companion.

--Easy,Tim. You saved me, see? 'M okay-- she promised-- see? Im alright --He nodds weakly-- c'mon lets go back to the ship

Trying to tug him along, he stops her by not moving and squeezing her. Shes quick go get the memo and nodds.

--Oooooor we can stay a little longer, thats alright too--She added, understanding he needs more time.

Both stand there among the rubble of the crumbling,blazen And charcoal blackened city. Civilian,soldier and resistance laid dead across the floor with blood and ash mixed into a paste of death, they only Hear the distant Shouts of the ongoing battle,the crackling of the pyres anf the ocassional crumble of debries.

Tim can only concentrate on that orchestra of destruction and Demise,the images of Berties death passing through his head over and over again. Its vivid,its Like hes there again holding his best friend in his arms.

--It can't be said I'm an early bird--She sings softly--It's ten o'clock before I say a word

Baby, I can never tell

How do you sleep so well

It catches tims attention, slowly bringing him back to earth,to present time,to safety.

--You keep tellin' me to live right

To go to bed before the daylight

But then you wake up for the sunrise

You know you don't gotta pretend

Baby, now and then-- jerico puts her hands on his biceps and rocks Him side to side softly.

Silken voice fills his ears and eases his heart and mind,it wraps around his soul like a blanket.

--Don't you just wanna wake up, dark as a lake

Smellin' like a bonfire, lost in a haze?-- she continues and he slowly humms along--

If you're drunk on life, babe, I think it's great

But while in this world

A shaky sigh leaves him,his body relaxing and laying on her for support-- I think I'll take my whiskey neat

My coffee black and my bed at three-- both entone,tims voice slowly gaining more strength---

You're too sweet for me

You're too sweet for me

I take my whiskey neat

My coffee black and my bed at three

She smiles and he joins In with those side to side movements. One hand on her waist and the other holding hers,fingers entwined as if both were dancing.

--You're too sweet for me

You're too sweet for me-- He sings at her, as if he didnt deserve this softness.

He pulls her to waltz,turning slowly. Tim hasnt moved his head and he'd rather not, he feels safe in her embrace.

The world still burns around them with the ash falling like a tragic snowfall, the air smells of smoke and gunpowder.

--I aim low

I aim true and the ground is where I go --He takes the lead,singing to her,meaning the words--

I work late where I'm free from the phone

And the job gets done

But you worry some, I know

But who wants to live forever, babe?

You treat your mouth as if it's heaven's gate

The rest of you like you're the TSA

I wish I could go along

Babe, don't get me wrong

His voice gets flirty again as it usually is, she feels him smile against her skin and his head rises just enough so their eyes meet.

They spend a few more minutes dancing and singing softly. When he feels better and back with his boots on the ground, he looks at her and says--C'mon,lets go back before the guys freak out

And leading her by the hand they return to the Aurora. The Group asked if everything is okay and why they took so long to get back, and jer just dismisses it.

Nobody questions why Tim leads jeri to the showers, or why they spend so much time in there.

She scrubbs off the blood from his fingers,the same song they were singing now playing from a radio she took into the room.

《You know you're bright as the morning, as soft as the rain

Pretty as a vine, as sweet as a grape

If you can sit in a barrel, maybe I'll wait

Until that day》

He watches her with tired eyes--I- you dont gotta do it...

--Its okay,I want to take care of you--She answers, taking his still bloody hands and kissing his knuckles.

Tim sighs under his breath and softly says--I dont...I dont deserve it

--Yes you do,dont say that.

In silence he lets her scrub off the blood from his hands and his mouth,then comb the hair products on his brown locks that now stick to his face

《I'd rather take my whiskey neat

My coffee black and my bed at three

You're too sweet for me

You're too sweet for me

I take my whiskey neat

My coffee black and my bed at three

You're too sweet for me

You're too sweet for me》

His hands rest on her waist and he helps her out a little,as much as his shaken up nervous system could allow.

--Sorry...sorry I cant be of no more help-- He mutters,voice weak and tired.

Jeri shakes her head-- Dont be,its okay

After the shower they change into something more comfortable, casual "at home" clothes to unwind. Then,they go to the 'livingroom' of the ship where everyone was.

Its not only so everyone could take stock of one another to make sure nobody was missing so it calmed their anxiety, but also a way to make everyone unwind and feel safe.

Merchant has Tim leaning on her shoulder,drifting off to sleep while she crochets Him a small headband with a sprout growing out of It

Nastya is playing her violin, the toy soldier and Ivy play checkers. Raphaella and Ashes are leaning on one another on another couch,asleep. Meanwhile,Marius, brian and Jhonny are playing poker.

Its good to see Tim resting up and feeling better, he was a very light sleeper and the few things that couldnt wake him up was Nastya's violin,quiet chatter and the purr of the octokittens.

Like that,the crew settles down and relaxes after a long day of slaughter.

[babacontainsmultitudes]

Strange times in the dndads fandom, strange times.

[cookies-over-yonder]

they hate my disabled demonic swag

CO-WRITTEN BY @silverlistenstothings

Being a cane user in high school, Taylor's gotten some... interesting comments, but it hasn't come up in a while, so when it does, well... It pisses him off.

Part 18 of The Mortifying Ordeal of Being Roommates

ao3

There are many things that are different about attending Teen High now that everything is over, but to Taylor's misfortune, some things remain the same.

Taylor is standing against the wall at the cafeteria waiting for Normal, Link, and Scary to meet up with him for lunch. He's always the first there, since his class ends a little earlier than theirs.

The Path of the Wind is playing in his headphones while he waits. It's calming, and reminds him of the catbus. Ah, he misses it… hopefully it's doing well.

Someone taps his shoulder, and he flinches, then slides his headphones off to see who's there.

It's not a friend, it's a teacher—no, an educational assistant. They usually help disabled kids in their classes.

"Taylor?" they ask, and their voice sounds familiar. There's a chance they worked at Taylor's elementary school before, because why else would they recognize him? Taylor's blanking on the name though, not that it really matters—why are they talking to him anyway?

"Um. In the flesh," he says, not with his usual boldness, because he still isn't sure why he's being spoken to.

"Why do you have a cane?"

…

…

Huh?

"Uh, 'cause I have chronic pain," Taylor answers, and the words are dry on his tongue. It's not the first time, but it's been a while.

"Oh, what kind of pain? Where is it?" they ask, leaning in too close, and looking at him in such an invasive way as if trying to formulate a diagnosis right then and there.

"My limbs and my back?"

It's not a question, but it comes out like one anyway because why are they asking him this —

"You know, I know someone else who…"

The rest of their words all blend together to Taylor. Something about 'oh I wonder if it's this' and 'you should try exercising more' and oh, his nails are definitely digging into his palms now, and where the fuck is the escape from this conversation—

"Ah, well, I'm sorry, you poor thing," they say, rubbing his arm, and a split-second later, when Taylor pulls away, a frown forms on their face. It's not unlike the expression he's gotten from teachers in the past, but this one makes him feel violent.

And then they walk away. And Taylor lets out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.

Jesus fucking christ.

"Taylor!" Normal calls, he's with Link and Scary, and soon they're all right by him discussing whether to buy food from the caf or share Link's packed lunch like yesterday.

"Hey, you okay?" Link asks, putting a hand on his shoulder. The touch feels like whatever the opposite of icky is. Nice, probably. Calming.

"I'm good, just…" Taylor glances around. The interrogator is still there, wandering around tables. Probably not within earshot, but still. "I'll tell you later, okay?"

"Okay," Link says, moving his arm to wrap around Taylor's shoulders while they walk to find a vacant table.

Taylor's breathing is heavy with frustration, but he makes an effort to steady it lest it progress into something worse.

✿

When Taylor gets home, Hermie isn't on the first floor. They're probably in their room?

Taylor needs to tell them about today. He didn't get a chance to relay the whole story to Link earlier and he feels he might explode, or start biting things—probably start biting things, actually—if he doesn't get the chance to complain.

Taylor runs up the stairs and knocks on the door. "Hermie!"

" Whaaat. "

Taylor opens the door. Hermie is half-sitting half-lying on their bed with their arms crossed over their chest, looking up at him with half lidded eyes.

"Thank you for being normal," Taylor says, closing the door.

"I'm Hermie," they say, closing their eyes.

"No—no, I mean—thank you for being normal about me having a cane ."

"Uh oh."

"What?"

"What happened?" Hermie asks, crossing their legs and sitting up at attention.

"Okay, I was waiting for Normal, Link, and Scary in the caf and then some random person approached me," Taylor starts, pacing back and forth beside Hermie's bed.

"Student?" Hermie asks, narrowing their eyes. They tilt their head as they continue to watch Taylor, as if weighing some options Taylor isn’t privy to.  

"No."

"Okay.”

They sound a bit disappointed, but Taylor decides not to question it, caught up as he is in his own frustration.

"It was an educational assistant that I think I recognized from elementary school? I'm not sure. I don't fucking know—just—they came up to me out of nowhere and asked me why I have a cane, and I was like 'cause I have chronic pain, but then they kept asking fucking questions!" Taylor throws his free hand in the air and sucks in a breath before continuing.

"Like—like they asked where the pain is, and what do I even say to that? 'Oh, yeah, it's fucking everywhere'!? And, oh my god, Hermie, they started trying to fucking—fucking figure out what it is. Last I checked that wasn't anyone else's fucking business? And I—I just stood there being inspected , I'm fucking— ugh! "

Taylor can feel his nails dig into his palm again, but god, his head is on fire right now.

"And you know what happened next? You know what they said? 'You poor thing.' "

Hermie scoffs, but Taylor can tell the anger isn’t directed at him. They do seem angry though, and Taylor feels a little vindicated by that reaction. Not enough to do much about his own anger, though.

"They said they're sorry . Sorry? I was just minding my own business, vibing , mind you, to my music while waiting for my friends and they think they can just randomly approach me like that? What the actual fuck!?"

“That’s fucked,” Hermie says helpfully, patting the bed beside them.

Taylor doesn’t really want to sit down, still vibrating with frustration, but it’s probably best if he does. He falls backwards onto their bed, grabbing a pillow and putting it over his face to muffle a frustrated yell. Hermie pats his leg comfortingly.

“Get that pillow off your face before you suffocate. Deep breaths, Taylor.”

There’s a brief flash of instinctual anger, don’t tell me to calm down, I’m angry and I have the right to be, but he knows Hermie is right. He throws the pillow to the side, and takes a sharp breath in—drawing the heels of his hands to dig into his shut eyes and clawing at his hair with his nails—and lets it out as another frustrated groan.

Hermie waits for him to calm down some before continuing.

“I know I don’t have to tell you that your anger is justified, so let’s just skip over that part,” Hermie starts, and their own tone is a bit tense as well, their tail tapping a frustrated rhythm against the mattress between them. “I think next time someone asks, you should tell them to fuck off. Or, I suppose, if it’s an EA that could get you in trouble, you can just tell them you need it, no explanation necessary. If they continue to press it, I think you could hardly be blamed for resorting to violence.”

Taylor brings his hands down from his face, and something about the frustration in Hermie's tone in Taylor's honour paired with the advice makes him, despite the heat of anger still coursing through him, crack a small smile. "Are you saying I should attack them?"

“I would never say that,” Hermie says, faux-offended with a hand dramatically placed over their chest. “I’m just saying, you have a weapon,” they gesture at his cane, “and if you did, you could hardly be blamed… and I’m sure the others would cover for you.”

The adrenaline rush has mostly dissipated, which means Taylor is left to feel the aches all over his body. It always worsens when he gets riled up. Attacking people being intrusive does seem like it'd be rather satisfying. "You really think I could get away with… nah, I can't do that." Taylor chuckles. "Sounds fun though. Oh, but I will definitely be telling people to fuck off," he says, stretching his arms out and flipping off the ceiling, and then he shouts: " Fuck you! "

“That’s the spirit,” Hermie says with a small, satisfied smile. “And if anyone really gives you trouble for it, I’m sure Chaparral wouldn’t miss me if I skipped a day to join you at Teen High instead. You might be above resorting to violence, but I am not.”

Taylor bites his lip, but he's grinning even harder. There's something about Hermie threatening violence for Taylor that makes him giddy.

And grateful.

He brings his arms back down—they're aching even more from being thrown up like that but whatever, it was worth it—and he rests one hand on his chest. He extends the other out toward Hermie and wiggles his fingers a little.

Hermie eyes his hand suspiciously for a moment, glancing from it to his face and back, before cautiously placing their hand in Taylor’s as if expecting a trap. They don’t seem too genuinely worried though, eyes still amused even if they’re not smiling anymore.

Taylor tightens his grip on Hermie's hand. It's warm and sweaty and reassuring. Then his eyes fall shut.

It’s quiet for a while, before Hermie lets out a long sigh and squeezes Taylor’s hand.

“Alright, come on, you don’t want to fall asleep like that,” Hermie says, tugging at his hand gently as they return their pillows to their rightful places and gesture for Taylor to lay down beside them.

Taylor does so, and he curls up against Hermie with their hands still interlocked. His head is on their chest, and Hermie is warm, and so is Taylor; they both tend to run hot, which doesn't seem like it'd be great on paper, but in actuality, it's quite comforting.

The rise and fall of Hermie’s chest is slow and even, and Taylor’s eyes quickly fall shut again. The last thing he feels before drifting off to sleep is Hermie’s tail curling protectively around him. 

[sarah-cam]

nancy: *is absolutely heartbroken, is being constantly told by everyone including ace that she should try to move on, was forced into a situation of spending time with tristan that was out of her control, received a tiny bit of affection from him after being emotionally destroyed by the curse, is probably feeling rejected and like she is not worth fighting for, has a history of distracting herself with boys when she’s feeling overwhelmed and sad, this has only been not even a year since the trauma of her mom dying and everything that followed including the wraith dreamscape where she literally almost died because she felt like she wasn’t worth anything, and she clearly hasn’t been to therapy, VERY CLEARLY is head over heels in love with ace which is killing her, tristan is obviously sketchy and could very easily be manipulating her somehow*

also nancy: *dances with tristan*

y’all: WHORE!!!

[garpond]

literally all i am irl is something for people to make fun of LOL

[professorcalculusstanaccount]

The final part for The House of Glass! Everyone has a lot to figure out, but progress takes time. Follows from this. This was my first ever complete comic from start to finish, I hope you guys enjoyed the journey!

If you've enjoyed this comic, please consider donating to Aya Yasser, a 19 year old university student from the University of Palestine. She had to pause her studies due to attacks on Gaza. Her 55 year old father is ill and she is trying to evacuate him and her brothers.

You can find her blog @samaagaza

It's like two in the morning right now so I might be a bit incoherent, cw for discussions of racism, homophobia, biphobia, sinophobia and classism

I've really wanted to write Chang as someone who's made to be a perpetual outsider. As a Chinese person born in the UK I've always been made to feel like a foreigner no matter where I go - obviously I am a foreigner abroad but I'm also treated as such in the very country I was born and raised in. I think a lot of east Asian people can relate to being treated as a strange exotic foreigner first and a person second.

As a working class orphan he would probably have been treated as disposable by society at large too. As soon as he's rescued by Tintin in the Blue Lotus he immediately asks why Tintin bothered saving him, and in his letter to Tintin in Tintin in Tibet he writes that he's unworthy of his uncle's hopsitality. We don't get much from Chang as he doesn't make many appearances but it seems he's internalised strong feelings of a lack of self worth. Tintin may have been the first person to recognise his humanity since Chang's birth family passed.

Being queer is also very isolating at first. You're not born into a culture you can reference or make sense of your experiences initially, it's something you have to seek out. I wanted to explore learning to love yourself through others. We're all weird to some degree, we're all in this together!

I genuinely have no clue how I'd follow this up, I have ideas for future stories but I'm not sure what would follow directly from here!

[all4yoi]

𝒥ust a bet﹕hyung line

𝑒nhypen x fem!reader ︎︎⚹︎ cw: angst, no fluff (yet), reader is mostly viewed as a loser and nerd, lowercase intended, kinda went overboard with hoon's, reader gets called a bitch once, not proofread!

sypnosis﹕after a few months of dating, you find out you were just a bet.

part two !

★ LEE HEESEUNG (wc 0.3k)

you and lee heeseung has been dating for a total of five months, and throughout those months you can confidently say that you were the happiest. he was the perfect boyfriend, his family loved you and so did yours.

today, heeseung promised he would take you on a date after his basketball practice despite your protests on how he should be resting instead. you wouldn't have agreed if it weren't for the fact that he had shot you with his pleading big doe eyes that never fails to make you agree on whatever he asks for. 

so here you were, making your way towards the gymnasium with your bag hanging on your left shoulder. the lack of dribbling and smacking basketball noise from behind the closed doors told you that their practice was done.

entering quietly out of habit, you were about to approach your boyfriend when you overheard his teammates talking to him.

"don't tell me you're still with her?" asked one of boys, an amused smile on his face. heeseung only raised a brow.

"what? you won the bet, you can dump her now. you're ruining our image you know? plus she's a total nerd and loser, you're much better with someone like yunhee." and with only just a few words, you felt your world crashing down.

right, who would date someone like you? you always found it weird, that heeseung just approached you one day in your biology class with the cheekiest smile on his face. the fact that he wouldn't leave you alone until you've agreed to go on a date with him. it all made sense now, why the popular basketball captain suddenly gained interest on the school's "biggest nerd."

"speaking of.." another guy spoke, nodding towards you with a cheeky smile. heeseung turned around only to be met with your glassy eyes.

you didn't move, wanting to hear him defend you. wanting to tell his teammates that you weren't a bet and he actually liked you throughout the months you two have been dating.

his silence said everything and with that you turned away and ran out of the gym.

"shit." he muttered, running after you.

★ PARK JONGSEONG (wc 0.3k)

"i'll pick you up later, okay?" your boyfriend of almost a year said softly through the phone. you've been dating jay since the first week of your first year in uni, others found your relationship weird. maybe because back in high school, jay never and refused to even spare you a glance. he was an asshole who looked at you as if you were the epitome of disgusting.

but the past is in the past now, right?

"okay baby, see you." you reply and put your phone down on your table, knowing that he's usually the one who ends the call.

you go back to the papers scattered on your table. the silence in your room was disturbed by sudden noises in your phone, turning to look, you see that jay hasn't ended the call.

picking your phone up with a smile, you were about to call out for him but a voice stopped you.

"i can't believe you've gone this far dude." you recognized the slightly muffled voice, it was a friend of jongseong's.

"what do you mean?" your boyfriend grumbled. the audio was muffled, you figured he was moving and the phone was in his pocket.

"you're still dating her!" the voice exclaimed, as if amused. "seriously, i didn't think you'd take that bet seriously. fine you win, i'll clean your car for a month. but you've gotta cut it out, you're starting to disgust me." the boy laughed.

before you could hear what your boyfriend would say, you ended the call. your hand was trembling and tears were falling from your eyes unconsciously.

were all those months just a joke to him? were your feelings really worth a free car wash for just a month? were you that unworthy?

jay was an asshole back in high school, you thought he changed. turns out he didn't, you felt like a fool for falling for his antics.

★ SIM JAEYUN (wc 0.3k)

if someone would be asked who you were, they'd all say the same thing. a loner, pathetic loser, and a nobody with a pretty face.

because what was a pretty face if you had no friends and a social life?

you almost believed you would die alone, you were too socially awkward to make friends. so when sim jaeyun, the transferee, approached you with a warm smile and a hand outstretched for a shake, you were beyond shocked.

your relationship went from being block mates, friends, then next thing you knew you two were dating. at first you were reluctant to enter a relationship, scared that it would ruin your friendship, but he insisted you both tried. that was three months ago.

you didn't have any friends, but atleast you had jake.

jake who smiles at you as if you had carved the stars in your hands. jake who would never forget to bring your coffee every morning. he was everything you ever needed. he was it for you, you only hoped he felt the same towards you.

walking through the hallway of the school, you stopped infront of your locker only to be met with a sticky note on it.

HOW LONG CAN JAKE LAST WITH LOSER L/N?

A WEEK : 卌 - 卌 - 卌 - 卌 - III

FIVE MONTHS : 卌 - I

A YEAR : II

Furrowing your brows, you stare at the note as your breathing grew heavy. It was obvious that the paper was old, it had folds and it was only stuck on your locker with a washi tape.

"what are you doing l/n? go on, cast your vote." a mocking voice said from beside you followed by a bunch of laughter. "personally, i thought he'd last a day. i guess i'll vote for five months then." then the hand went and tallied on the five months category.

"what's going on here?" upon hearing your boyfriend's voice, you fled away immediately, not wanting to face him. everytime something good happens in your life, it's always ripped away from you. jake was just like them, you were just a toy for their own entertainment.

★ PARK SUNGHOON (wc 0.5k)

"i'm sorry baby, i really am busy with practice tomorrow." your boyfriend, sunghoon, says in genuine sorry. it was the fifth time you have asked him to meet your parents, who also by the way was so desperate to meet the boy you've been dating for seven months now.

every time you ask him, he's always busy. either with practice, a project, a family matter, or whatever excuse he can come up with. but you always brush it off, knowing he means well and he really is busy as he's an athlete student.

"i'll meet them next week, okay? i promise." that's also the same thing he says everytime too, and once again, you only nod in response.

you and sunghoon met in a physics class. he was clutching his head with a frown on his face as he desperately tried to understand what the professor was going on about.

you remember clearly the way he approached you in the library, a physics book on his left hand as his right scratched his nape. "can.. i noticed- uh, can you help me with this topic?"

that was where your relationship started. you tutored him and helped him improve his grade. when he got an A on the finals, he kissed you on the lips in glee. he was taken aback by his own actions but nevertheless asked you out after.

"i love you," he whispers, pressing a kiss on your temple. "let me get something from my room." you hum in response as he takes his arm that was previously wrapped around you before going up to his room.

you can't help but notice the way his phone was blowing up from beside you.

you weren't the type to snoop around other people's phones, especially your boyfriend. it just felt wrong, you trusted him fully. but the way it kept ringing with text notifications, you just couldn't help it.

looking back to the stairs, you note he isn't back and there was still rummaging noises from his room.

taking his phone, you enter his passcode and read the messages from one of his group chats.

JONGSU

lol don't tell me she asked again.. em ba rrah sing

DAEHYUN

hahah when is she gonna take a hint?? 💀

JOON

you gonna blame her? hoon's been at it for months lmao

DAEHYUN

i actually can't believe he went that far, wasn't it only supposed to be for a month? 🗿

JONGSU

a week actually, but ig that bitch y/n was so easy. yk hoon likes to get his ego fed 💀💀

putting the phone down, you exhaled in disbelief. you took your bag from the floor and threw it over your shoulder and went to the door of his apartment to put your shoes back on.

"baby?" sunghoon emerged from the stairs, looking at you curiously. "you're going already?" he asked, extending an arm towards you but you slapped it away. the tears on your eyes shocking him.

"hey, hey what's wrong?" he tried again but his hand was yet again slapped away.

"i don't want to see you ever again." was the last words you uttered to him (shakily) before leaving his apartment.

[sgojoenthusiast]

angel.

✧.* toji fushiguro x reader

summary:

toji who never cared where he put it before. Ass, tits, hand, mouth, pussy. It was all the same to him. Until, that is, he met you.

cw: smut, oral, blowjobs, creampie, rough, sucker for simp toji tbh, orgasm denial ish

word count: 1.7k

likes, comments & reposts are deeply appreciated! <3 enjoy.

-`♡´-

Toji who never cared where he put it before. Ass, tits, hand, mouth, pussy. It was all the same to him because the outcome was all the same. He’d come, and if she did too then that was that - he’d still get his shit together and leave before the glimmering beams of light began to intrude through the curtains and illuminate her face for just long enough for him to remember it.

To him, sex was never a romantic thing. It was simply a relief. A few brief moments of bliss before the almost immediate realisation of life dawned on him and he’d go back to his typical Monday stresses - his kid, the bills, what he was going to eat tonight, who he was going to kill.

But then, you came into his life. Oh, sweet, bewitching, perfect you. Now, his life had a purpose once more. Now, he woke up with something other than death in his bloodied, war-zone mind. He almost felt unworthy that a real-life angel had been sent to him from above - what had he done to deserve it? You were an animated depiction of the dictionary definition of beauty.

Not only had you invaded his life and imposed all of your perfect elements onto him, such as the way you cared, the way you spoke, and the way you behaved, but you had also completely disfigured the way he fucked.

He couldn’t bear the idea at first. The concept of defiling someone so utterly perfect with all of his corruption and sin was unfathomable. He was a vile guy, yeah, but not even he could tarnish such purity as yourself. However, when the two of you got back to your place after a long date, and he walked you up to your apartment for your own safety (he tells a lie - there was a very slim chance of any danger proposing itself to you in the short walk to your apartment. He simply just couldn't part your side just yet), how was he supposed to ever resist you when you turned around to face him before slowly undoing the top buttons of your blouse as you took his hand and led him straight to your room?

That night, he fucked you in every imaginable way possible - yet the idea of finishing anywhere but inside of your cunt made him feel ill, and has done ever since.

Why would he come anywhere but deep inside of your pussy? Why wouldn’t he want to fill you up to the very brim, stuffed full of his come until it was spilling out uncontrollably? The mere thought of it left him perplexed.

In moments like this, where you’re on your knees with your delicate hands gripping onto his thighs and your soft tongue gliding over the veins of his cock - he found it gruelling to refrain from spilling himself into the back of your throat.

His hand rested on your head, not applying any force to allow you to set your own pace. His head was thrown back and his eyes scrunched in a murderous delight. Every second he spent keeping himself from finishing was a second he struggled to pull you off his dick and throw you onto his sheets.

There was nothing wrong with your mouth - fuck, was there nothing wrong with your mouth - it felt like he was finally experiencing the heaven he’d never truly seen. But when he said that the thought of coming anywhere but your pussy made him ill, he meant it.

You’d asked him so nicely to suck him off, as well. Gotten on your knees the second he got home from his mission as your hands hesitantly danced around his belt, awaiting his approval. He could see the disappointment in your eyes flash for a scarce moment when he asked you to get up - yet the squeal of delight that escaped your parted lips when he scooped you up into his arms and threw you over his shoulder as he began to head for your bedroom made up for every fraction of disappointment he caused you. So how was he supposed to

“Does it not feel good, Toji?” You asked, coaxing him out of his stupor. His head snapped down to look at you with puzzlement in his eyes, asking you all the questions floating about on the tip of his tongue with just one single glance, yet you heard him all the same. “Just, you haven’t came yet and you’ve hardly made any noise.”

Guilt washed over him in waves as he stared at your saddened eyes pouting up at him in confusion. That guilt began to dim when standing next to the conflicting lust he felt at the way his cock throbbed threateningly from the way you were looking up at him with that captivating pout as your hand lazily continued to stroke his cock.

“I.. Fuck, angel. I just can’t do it.”

“What do you me-“ Before you could finish your reply, Toji had you raised in his arms once again as he tossed you onto your bed.

“I gotta cum in this pretty cunt, angel. I can’t explain it, I just have to. Please let me come in your pussy.” He pleaded with you, eyes wide and swimming in oceans of desire. When you slowly nodded up at him, still feeling the lingering surprise from the sudden switch of positions, he wasted no more time talking.

There was no room for questions, not when his tongue was being shoved down your throat and his tip was prodding your hole. How had you gotten so wet just from sucking on his dick? He almost resented himself for not tending to your own needs earlier, but if anyone else had such a filthy mouth wrapped so delightfully around their cock - they wouldn’t be able to think straight either.

A string of curses fell from his lips as he pushed himself inside of you, his forehead resting against your own as your lips parted in pleasure from the way he poked that perfect spot inside of you almost immediately.

He couldn’t ever help himself. You were so magnetic. The way you were sprawled on the mattress as he lifted himself up and threw your leg over his shoulder as he began to pound his cock deep inside of you - it was like streaks of heaven beamed down on you, worshipping you as they should.

The feeling of your pussy helplessly stretching around him, combined with his previous denial of his own orgasm was sending him into an unavoidable spiral - one he was sure he’d feel the effects of for the rest of his days. If he could spend the rest of his life with you looking so angelic underneath him as he thrusted his hardened cock in and out of your wet pussy, he would take that offer in a heartbeat - no matter the cost.

You felt so good around him, sucking him in as if it was the last thing you’d ever do. Toji was no better, his relentless pace and screwed-shut eyes demonstrated that he was losing himself in his pleasure. His hand that wasn’t wrapped securely around your leg reached down to begin stimulating your clit, toying with it so teasingly.

If Toji couldn’t handle it, then you sure as hell couldn’t. Your hands were scrambling for some sort of stability - needing something that could keep you securely in the grasp of sanity’s hands before you succumbed.

Your moans merged with Toji’s, a mixture of broken whines and disgruntled groans echoed throughout the room as you borderline began to scream around his cock - your hands quickly moving to cover your face and muffle your sounds as a sense of rationality clicked in your brain when you realised that your neighbours were most likely either having one hell of a laugh or phoning the police due to a suspected murder scene occurring in your apartment.

Toji wasn’t satisfied though. He couldn’t come outside of your pussy, and he couldn’t come without the sight of your face and the reverberating noises that left your swollen lips. When had he become so picky? He grumbled words of disapproval as his hand left your pulsating clit in order to force your hands above you - the room immediately flooding with the sound of your moans once more - much to Toji’s delight.

He could feel his impending orgasm begin to creep up on him once more, and so he wasted no time as he lifted your other leg over his shoulder and put all of his force into his harsh thrusts. His hand went back to your clit - desperate for you to finish at the same time as him. One after the other, he kept pounding and pounding your poor, abused cunt until there was nothing but a puddle of wetness and a hole practically moulded into his cock.

It was always the familiar feeling of your pussy tightening around him, signalling to him your own orgasm, that sent him those shockwaves of pleasure as he braced himself for the heavy ropes of cum that he was about to fill you up with at any given moment - his pleasure building up at an unstoppable pace as he began to pant out a warning to you.

“Fuck, angel. Gonna come in this slutty little cunt of yours, yeah? Better keep that shit in this time.” He demanded, his voice carrying an authoritative tone that left no space for discussion - not that you could when your entire body had ceased to function at the intensity of your orgasm.

Truly, there was no feeling quite like the one where he was stuffing you full of his cum. He was certain that he’d never get enough of it. Not when it had him throwing his head back with a rough groan and one of his hands gripping the sheets in a deathly hold.

He was so overtaken by his orgasm that he hadn’t processed the feeling of falling onto his back - a gentle hand pushing his chest and silk sheets embracing his back. Nothing could ever change the fact that your lips pressed against his own, could pull him out of a lifelong coma - so when he recognised the press of your soft lips against his own, his eyes sprung to life and his hands flew to your hips - which had somehow found themselves mounted over his torso.

“You wanna fill me up again, handsome?” You laughed, like a goddess above him. He doesn’t think his dick has ever gotten that hard so fast before.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

a/n: came out of hiding for this one

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟsgojoenthusiast

[vinjinssunglasses]

could you write something about Yamazaki shingen can be anything

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♯┆character yamazaki shingen

♯┆summary you are somi park, the woman who conceived. Strangely, you and Shingen get closer?

♯┆cw oral (f receiving), fingering, p in v, squirting, belly bulge, slight size kink (?)

♯┆w/c 4.4k

♯┆a/n first smut fic, i hope you guys enjoy!! <3 also I do not condone somi park’s actions, nor is anything in this fanfiction canon. none of this is an excuse for her actions ^-^

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The day you gave birth, you were filled with a mix of joy and emptiness. That warm feeling of joy wasn’t for yourself, it was for your own clan. Everyone cheered for you, so you should feel content too, right? Yet all you wanted to do was cry, let yourself loose with tears, hands soaking wet and makeup dripping. That child, the one who was too unworthy to bare the Yamazaki surname, was yours. And you hated it.

It reminded you of the day and nights of endless moaning from your parents, reminding over and over that you are one of the ten women to try to conceive that man’s child. Intercourse is only for those who are inlove, you firmly believe and stuck to your whole life. However there you were, taking in the ruthless thrusts of his man. His hands rest a firm grip on your hips, while his cock mercilessly spreads your hole. Yamazaki was indifferent; keeping his usual stern attitude and quietness, not sparing a sound.

It’s for your family, it’s for your clan. Those dreadful words ran through your mind endlessly. It felt like your perception of love and sex were being ripped to shreds right in front of your eyes. As soon as he finished, the room was dead silent. Not a word or a sound, other than him flipping the blanket over himself. Getting up to clean up, you only sighed as you felt it running down your leg. The mirror showed the pathetic sight of tears running down your face again. And there, the bathroom floor, you sat there curled into a ball, letting the tears run down your red cheeks while you silenced your own woeful cries.

Upon the announcement that you had conceived, you didn’t know what to feel. Relief, knowing you want to have to betray your own beliefs like that again? Or grief, knowing that the baby in your stomach could be deemed useless, and all your efforts to keep your mental state together has been futile? Everybody cheered and congratulated you nonetheless. If only somebody even cared.

That son of yours. Every time clan members reminded you, murder ran through your mind. However you were only allowed to smile and thank them. None of the idiots spared a second thought about how you felt, nor did they even ask.

‘THE HOPE OF YAMAZAKI’

As soon as that forsaken child was born, everyone seemed to take their judging eyes off of you, and onto that mistake. It was the birth of a being that was fuelled with all your grievances. All your hatred shifted onto that child, the one who was worthless enough to take up your last name, Park. Pitch black eyes and a tiny body that giggled when played with. He couldn’t even say ‘mama’, and his mere existence was worth more than yours.

The only ones by your side was the other nine women who also slept with that beast. You all made jokes to lighten the mood, yet the lingering feeling of ‘it’s all your fault’ lay deep inside your hearts. None of them congratulated you on that child, they all experienced similar to what you have. It felt as if they were your only safe space throughout this whole home.

If you were going to live here, you figured you may aswell call it home. Nothing about this place felt like home to you. It was your place of endless suffering, that felt like you were paying the price for your sins.

The first day you had to take your punishment, was the day you were scheduled to sleep with him. Everytime you even think of your last digit, you remember your trembling hand against the knife that pointed at your helpless finger.

Yubitsume, where severing a finger signifies an apology and loyalty to the clan. All of you trembled with sweat when holding that blade. Terrified gazes exchanged, you had to go through with the yakuza tradition. The reason was simple — the desire for his seed. All of you were considered lowlifes, therefore you weren’t allowed to express your opinion. As a result of these actions that were considered sins, the blood splattered over the tissues provided.

Afterwards, you were responsible for his daily tasks: bathing, cleaning, etc. It was an awkward silence, though you weren’t expecting much since he was never a speaker. Dark eyes rested on your curves as you went for a towel, in his eyes you were beautiful. The reincarnation of Aphrodite. While he would never let the words flow off his tongue, you noticed the way Shingen’s gaze rested on you for longer than it should. Though he only sat there, otherwise resting his gaze on the bathroom tiles while you scrubbed.

════════════════════════

You couldn’t help but feel bad for the boy. Gun was only young, unbeknownst of what was to happen. Born by unluckiness to serve the clan against his own will. It’ll be the only thing he knows from now on. To be a killing machine, just like his father, ‘Machine Gun’. To treat him like that, you felt terrible; absolutely ashamed.

Stopping him from having the childhood he was meant to, playing kendama with the friends he made, maybe you were part of the blame. You didn’t want to, but the vice-president presence looms over your shoulder, threatening that if you do not comply; it won’t go well. It’s not the child’s fault, he didn’t deserve any of this. If you had it your way, you’d him play kendama for as long as he pleased; never force him to fight. Still, you weren’t worth a dime to these people, therefore you were forced to your pesky mouth shut.

.

It’s strange. The contact with you two has always been the same — for the traditions of the Yamazaki clan. Then why does the air between you two feel a little lighter? It was odd enough being so casually naked around each other, even though you’ve already seen the other like this.

“How was your day?” Shingen muttered under his breath, and you paused in shock. The room fell silent as you stopped spreading the soap over his body. No, he’s not the type of guy to spare a moment of care for another. Ruthless, unforgiving and selfish is his nature; he tears his opponents limb by limb, not slowing them to spare a breath before they meet their demise. A man like Shingen doesn’t bother caring for his underlings, as they’re under him for one reason and one reason only: they’re weak, unable to reach his level.

Then why..?

“It.. It was okay.” You responded, mindlessly continuing with the task at hand. The room fell silent again, as per usual. It was a nerving stillness, one that has your heart racing. It was softer, less rough like his calloused, scarred skin, a result of all the treacheries he’s gone through. Shingen raises his brow as he studied his hands. You’d just realised — you had been staring at his hands for too long, and he had noticed.

“What is it?” Shingen spoke in a low tone as he inspected all the scars, callouses and rough texture of his hands, they were simply huge. One handshake could snap your wrist in two, not to mention the once soft knuckles that had hardened from the continuous strain from punching. The long, thick fingers which felt like rough sandpaper along his own skin, he had already gotten used to the sensation. So when your unfamiliarly soft hands run along his back, it successfully soothes him. Unlike his, your hands are slender and soft, with well-kept nails that are moisturised often to keep their ‘femininity’.

“Ah, it’s nothing.” You clear your throat, proceeding to grab the shower head. Even when you suddenly splashed water over his body, he never flinched, no matter the temperature. Most times you could never tell if the water was too hot, as he would just sit there in silence.

The next few days weren’t any better. When you were simply cleaning the house, he’ll take a seat near you, sipping at tea while minding his own business. When you moved rooms, he’d do the same, following along and silently observing. Occasionally he’d ask you questions, but that’s as far as conservations went. At first, you tried to ignore him, pretending his presence didn’t bother you and focusing on your work. But over time, the heavy silence between the two of you became more and more unbearable. Shingen’s eyes would follow your every move, his gaze felt heavy, as if he wanted something, yet he never spoke.

One afternoon, as you dusted the walls, you finally had enough. You turned around, forcing the words out of your throat in an attempt to find out what you really wanted to know.

“Is something the matter? These past couple days, you have been following me around.” Your hands become sweatier and you could barely maintain eye contact. Shingen withdrew the cup from his hand, resting it on the table before gazing right into your anxious eyes. He was surprised by your sudden outburst, yet he maintained his neutral exterior.

“Is it bothering you?” He simply spoke, waiting for your reply. Unsure of how to answer, you hesitated — one wrong word and he could snap you in half if he wanted to. But did it bother you? Perhaps at first, however it’s a feeling you can’t put your finger on. It was intrusive, but it left you curious. Why was he there? Is he hoping to see, or hear something?

“No…” You muttered, letting out a sigh you didn’t realise you had been holding. His eyes lingered in you for a moment longer than it should’ve, leaving you with a shiver running down your spine. Expression unreadable, as if he was weighing your answer. You shifted uneasily, wiping the sweat on your palms onto your clothes, trying to maintain your composure under the scrutiny of his deep gaze.

“I see.” He spoke, voice low like a well-tuned instrument. It was as if he learnt something from your hesitation. Unsure of what to think, you swallowed trying to understand his body language, yet it proved futile. You psychically can’t understand a man like him. What is even thinking right now? The air is thick, filled with words you wish you could say.

“Well, if you need anything..” your voice trailed off awkwardly, and he nodded as to acknowledge your attempt at conversation before turning his attention back to his cup of tea. You returned to your work, yet the question still gnawed at you. Everytime you moved, you could feel his unwavering gaze on the back of your neck.

“Why me?” The question slipped out of your mouth without thinking, and you started to silently panic. Turning back to face him, he simply looked down at his reflected expression from the ripples of the liquid. Now that it was in the open, it was too late to take it back. For a moment, Shingen didn’t answer. No matter how much you squinted to see a pinch of emotion, you couldn’t see past the barrier between the mask he wore and his raw emotions. Angry, sad, disdained — you couldn’t tell. It was like staring at a stone wall, unmovable and devoid of emotion. To your surprise, you notice his lips curve into a frown. Did you perhaps do something wrong?

After what felt like ages, he spared a few words. “You interest me.”

‘You interest me?’ Your breath caught in your throat. His words hung in the air between you, heavy with a meaning you can’t grasp. You tried to search his face for even a tiny hint, yet he remained unreadable, as always. Before anything else could be said, he stood and left with the room. The only thing you could do was watch him. He didn’t even look back, leaving you with the echo of his strange words replaying through your mind.

The following week, he personally invited you into his chambers. A cold shiver ran down your spine when he suddenly asked you to meet in his room that night. While you were cleaning the dishes, he quietly entered the room unbeknown to you. Suddenly speaking in a low tone, you flinched and raised your head to look at him. Those same, cold and dark eyes gazed down at you.

“Come to my room, tonight.” Simple, and sweet. Usually he’d keep a distance from his underlings, yet he was close enough that his arms brush yours. You dropped the sponge and took a moment to process the situation — his room? Tonight? What?

“Is there a reason?” You felt compelled to ask. What could he possibly be thinking? He’s unreadable, and you struggle to understand him.

“No.” Leaving no room for anymore questions, he turned around and left. Standing there, puzzled, you could once again only watch him walk away as you were forced to continue your task.

That night, the clock struck ten and you had just finished washing up. You got changed and put your old clothing into the laundry. It was bothering you, what was he doing to do? Did your parents do something outlandish again? The whole thought of it left you pacing around the hallways wondering if you should just say you forgot. But then you’d be going against his order, and who knows what your clan will shame you for now? Sighing, you took the chance and knocked at the door.

“Oyabun.” You called out, and he opened the door. He let you inside, and you took a seat on the bed where he sat beside you. The quiet of his chambers felt oppressive, the air thick with words unspoken. You shifted a little and fidgeted with your hands as your mind spun with questions. Were you over thinking? The silence stretched between you, his presence looming next to you, quiet and unyielding. You tried to shut these thoughts out, but you could only focus on how close he was sat, his body heat radiating against yours in the lamps dim light.

You cleared your throat. Hesitating, the question you’d been holding back forcing its way out. “… What did you mean by that?”

Shingen shifted his gaze from your fidgeting fingers to your jumbled expression that could barely maintain eye contact. “The other day, where you said..”

Did you say too much? You paused and instantly regretted saying anything.

For a moment that felt like ages, he didn’t say a word. You could feel his gaze on you, but he didn’t make a move to speak. Anxiety coiled in your chest, and just as you were about to apologise for saying anything in the first place…

“You think too much.” The weight of his words hung heavily in the air, and you pulled your head up to looked at him. For once, he showed an emotion you could make out — troubled. His brows creased with worry, lips pressed into a thin line before he spoke.

“I meant what I said,” he murmured, struggling to look you in the eye. “You..” Shingen paused, as if carefully choosing his choice of words. “…occupy my thoughts.”

What? It wasn’t as you expected ever coming out of his mouth. He’s a gruesome man who doesn’t hesitate to tear limbs apart, yet here he is, in front of you, weak and docile. Between the cracks of his yielding facades, a hint of emotion shone through. It was as if your hand moved by itself, curling his hair behind his ear.

“Why?” You whispered, trying to grasp onto any sort of reason. “I don’t understand you.”

“There’s no need.” Shingen replied, his voice low and soft. This time, his eyes gazed longingly into yours, filled with an unspoken desperation, like he was hoping for something he couldn’t put into words. In all honesty, you were speechless. Before entering this room, you had no expectations, wanting to leave as soon as possible. Now you want to stay here, in this moment, forever. Seeing his face so soft was a sight engraved in your mind, one that you wouldn’t get tired of seeing.

“Just.. stay. Stay with me.” He bit his lip, his expression tender, waiting for a response he desperately needed. These words were simple, yet they carried a weight that made your chest tighten. His words resonated deep inside of you, and you couldn’t explain his new feeling.

The silence returned, but it didn’t feel thick and heavy, nor suffocating. It felt as if something growing between you two, something fragile and real.

“I’m not going anywhere.” You spoke, voice barely above a whisper, as your hand lands on his. Stroking his thumb, you noticed a faint smile creep onto his lips as a wave of contentment washed over him. It was a side of him that you had never seen — no, nobody has even seen — and it made you feel so special. *I was the only one to see this monster oh-so vulnerable. You saw it — how his shoulders eased and body relaxed, leaning into yours. As if he’d been holding it in for so long, and only now, in this room that he bared his suffering alone, has he been able to express it.

He turned his hand over, lacing his with yours. The feeling of his weathered hands felt so warm against yours, and you embraced his imperfections for what they were. That simple gesture sent a warmth through your body that made your chest ache. His other hand lifted, hesitating for a moment before resting it against your cheek, thumb brushing softly across your skin.

Shamelessly, you almost couldn’t keep your eyes off of his lips. And he couldn’t either. An eagerness that rested in your heart hedged for you to kiss him. You shifted closer to him, taking the chance and pulling him closer while your lips met his, hesitant but eager. Shingen’s mouth was warm, a firm contrast from his cold exterior. Your eyelids flutter close as you let yourself melt into the tenderness of his embrace. Restless, your hands finding themself gripping the hem of his robe, unable to get enough of him. Straddling his lap, you felt his hands naturally settle upon your hips. You finally take this chance to take a breathe, and you look into his eyes — hungry.

For the first time in your life, you felt as if you were in control — his gazed lifted to you, not looking down. You cupped his face,, watching how his cheeks squish against his lips, before leaning in to kiss him again. This time, you didn’t dare part them.

It was a moment you never wanted to end.

Yamazaki lifted you by the hips, taking care to lay your body onto the bed before climbing in between your legs. Untying your robe, his hands eagerly explore each crevice of your body. From your breasts, to your hips, to your thighs — you were perfect. Shingen leaned towards your breasts, gently circling his finger around your areola. Your nipples ached to be touched, yet he only groped your tits, kissing at the sensitive regions of your neck.

His kisses travelled down your collarbone, chest and stomach, towards your dripping cunt. Shingen’s long hair draped along your thighs, his warm breath causing your pussy to tremble.

“Hurry.” Voice aching with anticipation, he complied; his tongue slurped up all your juices, taunting your clit with the feathery contact. Every glide of his tongue has you loosing control of your pesky mouth once more, moans carelessly spilling, making his own neglected cock throb. Moving the strands of hair from his forehead back, you can see the lust and hunger embedded in his eyes, as if he’s holding back from having his way with you. It’s so sexy, seeing those glaring eyes gazing right back at you. His fingers grip deep enough into your skin that it could bruise, pulling you in closer to ravenously lavish in the juices of your leaking cunt.

Shingen leaned in closer to circle your clit with his tongue. A pleasured gasp came from above, which encouraged him to keep going. What if someone heard? You tried your hardest to suppress your moans, covering your mouth. Why’d he stop? A hand grips onto your wrist, pulling them away from your panting mouth as he looks up into your eyes.

“Don’t hold back your moans. I want to hear them.” He slowly pushed a finger through, thrusting in a come hither motion. Those hands, they were fucking huge, and your cunt struggled to spread around them. The once rough, sandpaper like hands melted into your love juices, becoming soft and creamy. A smirk ran across his lips as he rubbed his own erection, watching your face contort into a slutty mess.

Oh, what’s that? He presses against your g-spot, and you shriek in pure bliss. Each thrust leaves you breathless, bolts of pleasure running through your spine. What’s worse is the view of your juices spilling all over the sheets, creating a pool under you. Shingen can’t help but love what he’s doing to you, enjoying every moment of your helpless self.

Oh gosh, you could feel yourself getting closer, while he leans in to circle his tongue around your nub. Shamelessly attacking your weakest spot, you grip onto his hair as you could feel the pool of pleasure inside your stomach hollowing, and your voice becoming louder. In three last plunges against your g-spot, a squeal escapes you as you squirt all over his abdomen. Vision hazy, you felt his fingers pulling out and him panting himself. Shingen lapped up the aftermath of your delighted orgasm, hungrily devouring every last drop.

Next thing you know, his cock is hugged between the wetness of your folds, lined up against your hole. How the fuck was that thing going to fit inside of you? No matter how wet your hole was, the tip could barely push its way in.

“Relax,” His hands rested on each side of your hips for support, while he tried to push it in slowly.

“It’ll fit.” He spoke as if he knew what you were thinking. Shingen groaned as in one final thrust of force, he abruptly dipped into your heat. You let out a surprised squeal, as you both pant. One hand finds its way to grip onto your thigh that nestled around his waist, while the other grips onto your hips. Only three inches has found its home in the depths of your pussy, yet you’re already panting for air. It’s only just begun. He doesn’t dare push any further, afraid that’ll hurt you.

���Give me more. I.. I can take it…” Your voice trembles, trailing off at the end.

Of course, he indulges; pushing his length on further, six inches in. Even further now, seven, eight.. just how big is he?! The girth of his cock makes your head spin as your cunt stretches to accommodate his girth. As he pulls out, you noticed the glistening of his cock dipped in the wetness of your pussy, yet the remaining few wasn’t. Giving slow thrusts, you could feel the motion of his cock hitting so deep, making your whole body shiver in pleasure.

“You feel so good..” He groans into the crook of your neck, hungrily kissing your neck to your lips. That spongy spot inside of you is being tortured by his fat tip, and your joke shudders every time he does. Shingen’s never been this loud — breathlessly loosing control of himself, his precum already leaking inside of you.

“Shingen,” You pulled him in closer with your legs, causing another inch or two to slip in. “Gi.. Give me all of it. I told you, I, I can take it..”

You whine as your eyes start to water, having your toes curling. An instant regret floods his body as he saw the tears running down your cheek, yet he was feeling way too good to acknowledge anything else. Reluctantly, the last few inches fill you up, and oh, you could see his cock bulging out on your stomach.

Shingen faintly smiled as he pushed down on that spot, his hips unapologetically moving faster. It was so sensitive — him pressing down on your womb only made you scream in ecstasy more. Your hole tightens and squeezes him, and you could feel every twitch and pulse his desperate dick let’s out. His strong hands grip onto your hips, squeezing them while thrusting as fast as he could — a bolt of cum building inside his balls.

“Shingen..!” Your voice wails in heavenly bliss, yet he’s too pussy-drunk to even listen to a word you’re saying. “Agh..! W-Wait, I…!”

The sinful sounds of his balls slapping against your cunt drowned out the noises of your moans, and a sheen sheet of seat drips down your bodies.

“I’m.. I’m cumming.. T-Take it all..” just a little bit more and..!

He’s filling you up, mumbling all sorts of profanities. As soon as he pulls out, a rush of juices land on his chest yet again. It made him satisfied to see your hole bubbling with his sperm, dripping onto the wet sheets. It was an achievement to see you trembling, gasping for air, gripping into the sheets for some resolve. He plants a kiss on your cheek, biting on your earlobe before whispering into your ear:

“One more time, please?” And you couldn’t refuse.

[obsessivevoidkitten]

A Jealous Snake

Kinktober Day 12: Jealousy and Praise Kink

Male Naga Yandere x Gender Neutral Reader

CW: Perfectly safe/sane/consensual sex, aftercare, jealousy, praise kink, double penetration, non-human genitals, general yandere behavior, double penetration

Word Count: 420

(Little drabble for you all. Not every kinktober post can be a full fic, but I hope you'll all still enjoy it ❤️)

"My precious little human," Sappan cooed as he secured you in his coils protectively, "I won't let anyone harm you!"

"I told you, they were just asking directions…"

Sappan started dragging you off towards home. It was such a lovely day, so the two of you had decided to take a stroll to the park for a picnic.

Unfortunately, two men had asked you for directions while your naga boyfriend, Sappan, was looking for a place to set up the picnic. When he turned his head and caught unworthy SCUM talking to his MATE his dashed over and flicked them with his tail until they ran off while cursing loudly.

"Ah, my sweet, trusting, innocent beloved! That's just what they said to get you to let your guard down! Luckily, I am here to keep a pure creature like you safe~"

He effortlessly hauled you back all the way home.

"You look so cute when you're upset, though you really shouldn't be… I was just keeping what's mine from harm!"

You knew what was coming next. Sex. He had to remind you who you belonged to and also "cheer you up" since you were now "grumpy." You didn't fight it. You were mildly annoyed over the wasted trip to the park, but you loved getting bred by your naga mate. You even thought the jealousy was hot. And he knew it.

Sappan lubed you up after removing your cloithing and quickly had you impaled on both of his large slimy cocks.

"You're the perfect sheath for my cock, darling~"

As he began drilling you in earnest, you wrapped your hands and arms around him and left kisses from his chest to his cheek.

"You always take me so well. Such a good little mate!"

He returned the kisses and pressed his lips to yours. He pulled away, a string of saliva connected the two of you. He stroked your cheek as the two of you came simultaneously.

You panted and caught your breath.

"You look even more beautiful after taking my cocks, I hope you feel better too. I'm sorry about the picnic, but I just can't tolerate other men talking to my mate!"

You were too tired to respond, but you smiled at him peacefully to let him know it was okay. Sappan lost himself in your eyes, mumbled about how beautiful they were, then set about cleaning the two of you up.

After that, the two of you had a little picnic in the backyard, safe and private.

[eelnoise]

one night/all night

law x fem!reader (nsfw!)

week 2 of small kinktober!

>an accidental stumble over some mysterious spores leaves both you and your captain at wits end.

cw: sex pollen, multiple orgasms, dom!law, oral sex (both), begging, semi-public sex an: god damn this one kicked my ass. but i'm finally happy with it. enjoy! wc: 4.7k

Trafalgar Law is no stranger to the oddities of this world. He's chased curiosity across enough oceans to work the fruits of his labor into a lifelong goal. 

In his pursuit for knowledge, Law bands a crew of his careful choosing together to aid with the task. Made up of dearest friends and closest confidants, the Heart Pirates are deeply loyal to their captain—even if he feels unworthy of it. 

This includes you. Brought aboard for your experience with botany and overall usefulness, you had fit in quickly—going so far as garnering Law's trust with enough relative ease that even he's grown deeply attached to you. 

He brings you in tow for most of his errands on land, not all of which you're privy to, but never once do you pry or question and Law's come to need that comfort more than he'd care to say. 

With his business concluded with his acquaintance, Law exits the small coastal cottage and finds you in the nearby clearing, sitting on your haunches and hovering over what looks like a pair of bright green mushrooms with your sketchbook in your hands.

He isn’t intentionally trying to be quiet as he strides up behind you. However, when he calls out your name, you yelp in sudden surprise, toppling forward and into whatever you had been focused on. The sole of your boot catches on one of the fungi, uprooting it, while the other disintegrates beneath your knee. The remnants hiss ominously, releasing plumes of spores from their caps that are immediately swept away by the breeze, swirling directly into both of your faces.

You try your best to roll out of the way as Law attempts to ease the situation with use of his devil fruit, but he’s too late to get the bulk of the remaining spores. 

Law’s eyes water as the spores hit his face, and he can’t help but cough and sputter. He wipes his eyes and looks at you with a mixture of annoyance and concern. “Would you please stop touching strange plants?” he asks, though his tone is far from polite.

"No. That was all you." you reply with a frown, trying to play cool despite the frustrated look on your face. The spores had caught you off guard too, filling your lungs with a strange tingling sensation that seems to be lingering. “You’re the one sneaking around like a fucking cat.”

Law's eyes narrow at your accusation, but the effect is somewhat dampened by the spores still floating in the air. He can feel them affecting his senses, making everything seem more vivid and intense. He takes a step closer to you, his gaze locked onto yours.

"I was not sneaking," he says, low and controlled. "I simply didn't want to disturb you while you were so focused on your work. But now that I see the mess you've made, I can't help but wonder if you're even capable of handling a simple task without causing chaos."

You roll your eyes at him and rise to your feet, brushing the dirt off your sketchpad and tucking it into your pack before doing the same with your boiler suit. "I was trying to document enough of it for research back on the sub, which is, you know, my job."

Law shakes his head and pinches his nose with a sigh. "Doesn't matter. Now let’s go; we don’t have much daylight left." He turns on his heel and starts walking, clearly expecting you to follow.

As you fall into step beside him, Law can't help but notice the way his attention seems to be constantly drawn to you. Your movements are slightly more exaggerated, your breathing a bit heavier than usual. He tries to focus on the path ahead, but finds his gaze constantly drawn to your form.

"What exactly were you hoping to learn from those mushrooms?" he asks, more to distract himself than out of genuine curiosity. "I thought your expertise was more in... practical plants."

He can feel the heat of your body next to his, the scent of your skin mingling with the earthy aroma of the forest. It's intoxicating and though he knows he should just take the lead—to put you out of sight even if temporarily—but he can't bring himself to stray too far from you.

Part of you wants to argue—to explain just how and why he’s wrong, and how his position as your captain doesn’t excuse the sheer audacity of his words. Yet you sigh in defeat; it simply isn’t worth it.

"To be fair, they may very well have been 'practical,'" you begin, wiping the uncomfortable sweat from your brow. "The plan was to sketch it, take some notes, and look into my books back on in my room for more information."

"Plus, I was bored. You were taking a while, you know?" You look up at him, and the way he’s already looking back down at you makes the heat rise in your neck.

Law's eyes flicker to your face, taking in the flushed cheeks and the quick breaths. "Boredom is no excuse for recklessness," he mutters, his tone a little rougher than intended.

The dusty road widens into the overgrown remnants of what was once this island's capital. Charred ruins of stone and wood mark the past, leaving behind winding streets of crumbling buildings covered in ash and soot, the smell of smoke lingering in the dry air.

Acres of scarred, lifeless land remain forever trapped in its moment of doom. It’s a bleak sight—and that’s putting it lightly.

Law leads the way down the debris-strewn street. He keeps his senses on high alert, scanning the dilapidated buildings for any signs of movement or danger, but the heat is oppressive, and it only adds to the growing tension coiling in his gut.

Silence falls between you, and Law’s mind begins to wander. His fist clenches tightly around the brim of his hat, both troubled and irritated. Those spores have surely fucked with him, and now he’s faced with the circumstance of it being you that fate has left him in this condition with.

He just had to keep you instead of allowing you to pair off with Ikkaku. Didn’t he? He could have He could have—should have—gone it alone, but this time, his damn pride may finally be his fall.

Though he can’t deny the effect it’s having on him—the way his heart races and how his body responds to your closeness. He’s always been attracted to you, convinced he didn’t have the time or reason to piece it all together, but this feels... different.

Law doesn't know if he's angry at himself or if he's frustrated with you—accident or not, those spores are doing something to him. There's no other way to explain the artificial intensity pumping through his veins.

The grip on his sword tightens, the hilt digging into his palm as he struggles to focus on the weight of his duty instead of the intoxicating allure of the way you look, the scent that envelops him, and the mesmerizing way your body moves beside him, each glance a reminder of the reckless desire brewing within.

Meanwhile your mind is a whirlwind of thoughts, most of them incoherent and centered around the growing desire that seems to be tangling in your belly.

Sweat trickles down your neck, and your skin feels like it’s tingling. What the fuck is this heat? 

Your first instinct is to blame the spores, for while yearning for your captain is nothing new, this longing feels heightened, almost overwhelming, as if the very air around you has stoked a smoldering desire deep inside.

You’ve encountered your share of strange plant life, but a mycelium with enough substance to trigger this much of a response from a fully grown person? Nearly impossible.

But what the hell do you know?

Trying to push away your thoughts, you force your steps to match the rhythm of Law’s. You can feel his gaze, acutely aware of how he leans in occasionally to avoid brushing against you. The tension between you is palpable, and it's making you feel a little disoriented.

You’re unsure how much longer you can maintain the charade of feigned composure. Every step feels heavy, and every breath is shallow and labored. The heat of the sun is nothing compared to the fire building inside you, threatening to consume you whole.

You lose count of Law’s footsteps as you try to cool off by fanning yourself, pulling your hair up, and drinking your fair share of water from the bottle you carry in your pack—but nothing seems to help. Something’s gotta give, or you’re going to melt.

Without a shred of a second thought, you unzip the heavy suit and slide your arms out of the sleeves, tying them around your waist. You sigh in relief as the breeze flows over your arms and through the thin fabric of your tank top, but it does little to truly soothe the lingering heat between your thighs.

Law's breath catches in his throat as he hears the sound of your zipper. He tries to keep his eyes forward, but his gaze is drawn to your form like a magnet. The sight of your exposed skin, glistening with sweat in the fading sunlight, sends a bolt of pure lust straight to his core.

He swallows hard, his mouth suddenly dry. The heat that had been building inside him reaches a new level, and he can feel his cock straining against the confines of his pants.

Trafalgar Law's eyes rake over you, taking in the sight of your flushed skin and the way your chest rises and falls with your heavy breaths. The emphasis of his tone iis rough as he asks, "How do you feel?"

It's a loaded question, one that he hopes will reveal just how much those spores have affected you. He's afraid to know the answer, but he can't help but want to hear it.

Your voice wavers slightly as you try to maintain a facade of calm. "I... I'm not sure," you admit, your eyes unable to break away from his intense gaze. "Hot. Really hot."

You take a step closer, drawn to him like a moth to a flame. The air between you feels charged, electric. "Are you okay?" you ask him in a soft whisper.

Law's eyes widen at your question, surprised by your boldness. He hadn't expected you to be so direct, so forthcoming about what you were feeling. He takes a step closer, closing the distance between you until your bodies are almost touching.

Law's fist clenches at his side, knuckles turning white. He's not okay. He's so far from okay it's laughable. But he can't tell you that. He can't tell you about how he's been left him in a state of constant arousal, that every nerve ending in his body is screaming for attention, for relief. 

For you.

"I’m fine," he replies through gritted teeth, the lie lingering in the air between you. He can smell you now; the scent of your sweat is intoxicating, pulling him further into disorientation.

"You don't look fine. Maybe I can–" You trail off, your eyes growing into a half-lidded daze as you trail down his body, taking a long look at the way his muscles ripple in his arms before snapping back up to his face with an awkward cough that doesn't really hide anything.

Your eyes meet Law's, and the intensity of his gaze sends a shiver down your spine. You see the desire burning in his eyes, mirroring the heat coursing through your veins.

You take another step closer, your heart pounding in your chest. Your hand reaches out, fingers trembling slightly as they brush against his chest. "Maybe I can help," you whisper, barely audible over the sound of his racing pulse.

He feels his resolve crumbling with your touch, your sultry tone and hungry gaze sending shivers down his spine. He wants to push you away, to maintain his composure, but his body betrays him.

"You don't understand," he grunts, tilting his face away from you. But even as he speaks, his hands are moving of their own accord, reaching out to grab your hips and pull you closer. "I can't... I shouldn't..."

This isn’t how he wanted this to go.

"Law," your voice calling his name eases the rumble in his head, instantly clearing the chaos of his relentless thoughts. "I want to help you. Anything..."

Law's pupils dilate at your words as something snaps within him, crashing his lips against yours in a fierce, demanding kiss. His hands pillow the impact as you're shoved against the cast-off remains of a building built from stone. He nips at your bottom lip, urging you to open for him, and when you do, he plunges his tongue into your mouth, claiming you with a passion that steals the breath from your lungs.

Law's grip on your hips tightens, pulling you closer until you can feel the hard length of his cock pressed against your belly. The heat between you is palpable, as is the need that rolls off him in waves.

"Tell me you want this," he growls into you, lips barely breaking contact with yours. "Tell me you need me as much as I need you."

Your breathing hitches as his demand echoes in your ears. You bite your lip, weighing the consequences of giving in. But then, you look deep into his eyes, seeing the hunger reflected in your own.

"Yes," you whisper,  trembling with desire. "I want this. I need you, Captain."

Law's eyes flash with triumph, and he wastes no time in responding to your plea. His hands move to your thighs, lifting you effortlessly as he wraps your legs around his waist. He pins you against the stone wall, his hips grinding against yours in a rhythm that's both torturous and exhilarating.

His hands roam your body, caressing your curves as if he's memorizing every inch of you. He breaks the kiss, only to trail his lips down your neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin there. "Taste so good," he murmurs, the husky rasp of his voice tickling your flesh.

Law's hands make short work of your clothing, peeling at the fabric of your shirt and tugging it your shoulders leaving you bare chested before him. He takes a moment to drink in the sight of you, his attention roving over your body with a hunger that makes your skin prickle with anticipation.

"Beautiful," he murmurs, his calloused fingers tracing the curve of your breast, the dip of your waist, the flare of your hip. "Perfect."

He lowers his head, taking your nipple into his mouth and suckling greedily. His teeth graze the sensitive surface, sending jolts of lightning through your veins.

You gasp at the sensation, arching into his touch. Your  hands find their way into his hair, knocking his hat off in the process of tangling your fingers in the dark, raven strands as you write and shiver under his touch.

"Law," you moan, your words breathy and filled with yearning. "Please..."

You're not sure what you're begging for, but you know you need more. You need him. All of him.

He obliges you with a final, harsher nibble to your hardened bud before pulling away to trail his lips down your torso. Long fingers slide from your hips to unzip and shuffle the remainder of the suit down over your legs to fall in a heap around your ankles.

Law’s breath hovers over your panties, inches away from where you’re dying for contact.

“Move these.” He commands. "Show me."

Your body thrums with want, his imposing tone weakening you into desire borne of flame. Your  hands tremble as you hook your fingers into the front waistband of your panties and slowly slides to the side. The cool air hits your heated skin, making you shiver. 

Law’s eyes lock onto your exposed sex, his gaze burning into you. He doesn’t hesitate, diving in to taste you, his tongue flicking out to tease at your clit. You whimper at the sensation, your body arching up off the wall in response.

He buries his face between your thighs, licking and sucking, his fingers gripping your hips to hold you steady while his tongue works its magic. You can feel the intensity building within you, every single one of your senses feels like they're working overdrive.

Law's tongue swirls around your clit, alternating between flicking and sucking, as his fingers delve into your wet heat. He groans against you, the vibrations sending shockwaves through your body.

His fingers twist inside you, stroking along your inner walls and hitting that sweet spot that makes your toes curl.

Law's skilled tongue and fingers work in perfect harmony, driving you further and further towards the edge. You can feel the pressure building, the need to release coiling tighter and tighter within you.

"Captain," you moan, your wails a broken plea. "Please... please, I need..."

Law doesn't let up, continuing to lap at your sensitive flesh as you ride out your orgasm. He relishes in the taste of you, in the way your body shudders against him, and the sounds of your pleasure. You cry out, the orgasm ripping through you, your body shuddering and trembling as waves of pleasure crash through you.

As your trembling subsides, he stands, his eyes dark with lust and his lips glistening with your juices. "On your knees," he utters, his tone low and gravelly, resonating with an intensity that captivates.

You comply, quickly discarding your shoes and the remainder of your clothing onto the dusty ground below and sink to your knees. You sit patiently as you look up at him through your lashes and watch as he wastes no time in freeing himself from the confines of his jeans, his cock springing forth, hard and ready.

"Suck."

He doesn't give you any more instructions, simply guides your head forward, positioning his cock at your lips. You open your mouth, wrapping your lips around the head of his cock, and begin to suck.

Musky and slightly salty—you relish in his taste, and as he begins to guide your motions your mouth is filled full again and again, the tip of his length rutting so far down your throat that your eyes begin to water. 

But you love it. Fuck, you love it.

Law groans, his head falling back as he savors the feeling of your mouth around him. He tangles his fingers in your hair, using it as leverage to control the pace, pushing deeper with each thrust.

"Fuck, just like that," he growls, his hips snapping forward, driving his cock into your throat.

You can feel him growing harder, his cock throbbing against your tongue as he nears his release. His grip on your hair tightens, and he holds you in place as he begins to fuck your face in earnest, chasing his pleasure.

You gag with each powerful thrust as spit and drool drench along his cock.

Law's eyes roll back in his head, a low moan escaping his lips as he feels your throat constrict around him. He can feel his orgasm building, the pressure in his balls growing with each thrust.

Law's grip on your hair tightens as he nears the edge, his thrusts becoming more erratic. "Fuck, I'm gonna cum," he hisses, his voice strained with the effort of holding back.

Law's orgasm rips through him, his cock pulsing as he empties himself into your mouth. You choke and gag around his cock, some of his cum escaping from your nose as he holds you in place.

He grunts, his grip on your hair loosening as the last of his seed spills into you. "Fuck, that's it," he pants, his cock still twitching as he pulls out of your mouth, leaving you to cough and gasp for air.

Law takes a moment to catch his breath, his chest heaving as he looks down at you. "Stand up," he commands.

As you rise to your feet, he takes a step back, his eyes roaming over your naked form. "Turn around," he orders, "ass out." Law's hands grip your hips as he positions you, his fingers digging into your skin. "Spread your legs," he orders.

You comply, bracing yourself against the wall as you feel the head of his cock pressing against your entrance. He teases you, rubbing the tip up and down your slit, coating himself in your juices.

"Beg for it," he demands, his breath hot against your ear. "Beg me to fuck you."

"Please, Captain," you whimper, your body aching for him. "Please, please fuck me. I need your cock or I'm gonna go fucking crazy. "

Law's control snaps at your desperate plea. With a primal grunt, he thrusts into you, filling you in one swift motion. The feeling of his thick cock stretching you open is overwhelming, and you cry out in a mix of pain and pleasure. 

He sets a brutal pace, pounding into you with a force that rocks your body against the wall. Your hands scrabble for purchase, nails digging into the stone as he fucks you with wild abandon.

Law's hands grip your hips hard enough to bruise, holding you in place as he rails into you. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoes through the ruins, punctuated by your moans and his grunts of exertion.

"Fuck, you're so tight," he groans, his hips snapping forward with each thrust. "Take it, take my cock."

His fingers find your clit, rubbing the sensitive nub in time with his thrusts. The added stimulation sends you hurtling towards another climax, your body tensing as the pressure builds within you.

With a loud cry unto the heavens, you gush around his cock, clenching as if milking him for everything he's got to give.

And fuck he wants to give you his all. Wants to empty himself into you over and over again until the only word you know is his name.

Law's hips buck, driving into you as you orgasm, his fingers digging into your flesh as he rides out your climax. The sound of your name on your lips is enough to send him over the edge, his body tensing as he releases inside you, his seed filling you up.

He holds you there, still buried deep within you, his breathing heavy as he regains control. "Mine," he breathes, his tone thick with possession.

But he doesn't stop, he can't stop indulging in you. For so long has he wanted this— wanted you— and some of him thanks fate for this, admittedly large and unexpected push into coming around to his feelings. 

His pace only slows as he tilts your head backward to catch your lips in a kiss.

Law's lips move against yours, the kiss deep and possessive. He swallows your moans, his tongue delving into your mouth to taste you.

His hands roam your body, caressing your curves, mapping out every inch of you. He breaks the kiss, only to trail his lips down your neck, his teeth grazing your skin.

"Again," he orders, his hips never ceasing their relentless pace. "Come for me again."

His fingers find your clit, rubbing the sensitive nub in time with his thrusts. The added stimulation is too much, the edges of your vision begin to blur as you can feel another wave of delirium crash over you.

Law pulls orgasm after orgasm from your well loved, exhausted form. He thinks himself insatiable— that he will never have his fill of you. Over and over does the rhythm of his motions continue, his balls slapping against your clit in a tangle that rivals two animals in heat.

The relentless pursuit of your pleasure is unyielding. You cry out his name with each orgasm, your body quivering and shaking as he brings you to the edge time and time again.

His own lust grows with each climax you offer, the spores heightening the intensity of the experience. He's a beast, unyielding and unrelenting, his focus solely on claiming your body as his own.

Finally, as the sun dips below the horizon, casting the ruins in a warm glow, Law's orgasms become fewer and farther between. Eventually, he collapses against your back in an exhausted huff.

Law's body slumps against yours, his chest heaving as he catches his breath. He nuzzles into your neck, his lips brushing against your skin as he places soft kisses along your neck and shoulder.

"Fuck, that was incredible," he murmurs, voice hoarse from exertion. "Felt amazing."

He pulls out of you slowly, his cock slipping from your well-used body. You both wince at the sudden emptiness, but the sensation is quickly replaced by a deep sense of satisfaction.

Law turns you around, his hands cupping your face as he looks into your eyes. "You're amazing," he says, and you can tell he’s sincere.

He leans in, capturing your lips in a tender kiss. It's a stark contrast to the frenzied passion you've experienced throughout the day, but no less intense.

When he pulls away, you're both breathless. "Let's get cleaned up and head back to the sub," he suggests, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. 

Law carefully assists you with your scattered clothing, his hands move with a gentle touch, helping you dress. His fingers linger on your skin, stealing soft caresses as he does.

Once you're both clothed and covered, he takes your hand, intertwining your fingers. "Ready?" he asks, his eyes sparkling with a softness you don't recognize.

You give him a nod and he pulls you close, slipping his hand into yours as the two of you begin to walk together out of the rubble and back into the direction of civilization. 

"What about those ruins? Weren't we looking for something?" You ask curiously, craning your neck to peer up at him with a raised brow.

"We'll come back for the ruins," Law says, squeezing your hand reassuringly. "For now, I think the both of us need some rest." 

"But aren't you worried about questions from the others? We aren't exactly showing up looking innocent, you know."

He grins down at you, a warm sparkle in his eye. "Don't worry, I can teleport us straight into my cabin from outside the sub. That way, you won't have to face the crew in such disarray."

You know he's honest, and so you let yourself relax and lean into his shoulder. The closeness is nice, and with the heightened exhilaration finally ebbing away it feels nice. 

It feels real.

When Law decides you’re close enough to the coast, the world around you shifts in an instant, and suddenly you’re enveloped in the cozy warmth of his cabin aboard the Polar Tang.

You accept his invitation to use his shower, and your heart leaps in your chest when he slips in behind you to wrap his long arms around your waist. The hot water cascades over your bodies, washing away the sweat and dirt from your day of exploration.

Law takes his time, his hands roaming your body as he cleans you. It's a tender gesture, a stark contrast to the frenzied passion from earlier.

"You okay?" he asks, his voice soft as he cups your face. "I know today was... intense."

You nod, leaning into his touch. "I'm more than okay," you murmur, a smile tugging at your lips. "I'm happy."

Law smiles, his thumb brushing your cheekbone as he gazes into your eyes. "Me too," he whispers, before leaning in to capture your lips in a slow, tender kiss.

He takes his time, savoring the feel of your mouth against his, the water cascading over your entwined bodies. When he finally pulls away, you're both breathless, your hearts racing in sync.

That night, you curl up in his bed, snuggled against his chest. A calmness fills the room, wrapping you in a soothing aura. Your captain is sound asleep, no doubt exhausted from the day’s events, and while uncertainty lingers about what comes next now that the spores are out of your system, that’s a worry for another day; for now, you find solace in his embrace.

[teruuu]

The feeling’s mutual buddy

CW: Cannibalism and Blood

The sexual tension is through the roof

Anyways there’s your narinder scar backstory

Spoiler alert: He currently parades em’ around like a trophy. Like “Look! Look! Your leader gave me these scars. Have they ever done the same to you? No! You are unworthy.” Lmao

[intromortal]

―ɴᴏᴛ ᴇɴᴏᴜɢʜ

bodyguard!p.js x nepobaby!reader

―wc: 10k est (well that was a fucking lie)

―cw: SMUTTTT, jealousy, feelings of unworthiness, possessive jay, angst, some lack of communication we love overthinking, not very professional behavior, more to be added

―release date: 10th june postponed

― series masterlist

―preview

You truly were a vixen, Jay though to himself, a dirty dirty vixen.

You had lured him in slowly. First with longing glances, your eyes flicking from his own to his lips whenever he talked to you. Then, you started trying to get his attention by dropping hints about your slow sexual life. “It’s not like I don’t have options,” you’d say over lunch while peering up from your cosmopolitan, the peel of a blood orange always adorning the rim of the glass as per your request. You’d fix your eyes on him, the hairs on his neck standing at the intensity of your gaze, “It’s just that none of these options seem fun or appealing enough.”

You could have anyone you wanted, and Jay knew that very well. Gorgeous gorgeous face and long thick lashes batting at him while feigning innocence from time to time, but you just happened to have a weak spot for what you couldn't have.

-

Jay suspected you would do something drastic when you eventually got frustrated enough. Something like kissing him out of the blue maybe. He could even say he was prepared to reject it, reject you, forbidden fruit luring him in. Gluttony hidden behind the promise of bliss.

What he did not expect was for you to get in the middle of the backseat while he was driving you to your penthouse after an event, position each one of your heeled feet on the back of the front seats, flip your gown up and slide your fingers inside your pretty white lace panties. Right where he could see.

He paid you no mind for the entirety of the car ride, never once telling you to stop, gaze fixed on the road ahead. You’d think he was completely unaffected if it weren’t for how hard he gripped the steering wheel, the veins on his hands bulging and knuckles turning white.

He even got up from his seat once you arrived home calmly as usual, only the shutting of his door louder than it needed to be. He opened yours silently, walked with you inside the elevator to get you inside your penthouse.

But when the door of your apartment shut close behind you he was all over you in an instant, teeth clashing against yours in a frenzied, passionate kiss. Sensual pants and rips of fabric the only sounds filling the huge modernly decorated space. He didn’t even allow you to walk to your room, you tortured him for months, even the thought of waiting for a second more than necessary was unfathomable to Jay. He wanted you then and he was gonna have you whenever and however he pleased, he was owed that much.

He had you spread for him on the big sectional couch in your living room, holding the back of your thighs as he pounded into you with force he never knew he was capable of. He had you propped over the armrest, stomach red from the roughness of the material and ass up, red from the roughness of his hands, your upper body pushed forward each thrust as the skin of his balls slapped against your behind. He had you facing him, holding yourself up on your arms, legs spread over his as his hips drove inside you from underneath, lifting from the soft carpet.

You two kept fucking after, sporadically escaping from the public eye to hide in a dressing room, his thick fingers inside your mouth to silence your moans. In the car parked away somewhere abandoned, riding him in the backseat, hands gripping the front seats as you bounced on his cock. In the shower of an expensive hotel overseas, your hair in a makeshift ponytail in his hand as he fucked your sore mouth on his length, twitching every time you held eye contact with him through your gags. You even managed to sneak him in your office, his tongue lapping you up from under the desk, hidden from the eyes of the businessman sat in front of you.

It went on like this for a while, before he showed up to your front door one time in the dead of the night, soaked from head to toe from the downpour descending outside.

or

Jay wants you for himself more than he would ever dare to admit, but knows all you're in for is a bit of forbidden fun.

[merbear25]

Monster trio making their S/O cry, because they hurt her feelings or physically hurt her, why did they make her cry and what’s their reaction?

Hello! This sparked some inspiration, so I hope the creativity that flowed through my fingers is to your liking! I decided to make these all accidental situations because I personally can’t see them intentionally hurting their s/o. Thank you for sending in this request.💜💜

CW: gn!reader, fluff, some angst, headcanons/scenario

Accidentally hurting their s/o (Monster trio)

Luffy: He never did have much of a filter when it came to expressing himself. Although that was one of the things you loved about him, you were well aware of how harsh his comments could be. There weren’t really any times you were caught in the crossfire with them, though. You seemed to navigate through conversations well with everyone (not just him).

However, there was one particular day when he was in a generally sour mood. Without you realizing this, you made an off-handed comment that led to him biting your head off. Visibly hurt by his reaction, he instantly regretted snapping at you. His apologies first came out awkward as he stumbled with his words, but despite that, he was truly sorry.

Wiping away the few tears that had built up in your eyes, you forgave him because you knew it wasn’t done intentionally. Still feeling bad about having upset you, he pulled you into a hug, wrapping his arms around you tightly. With you in his embrace, he started peppering your face with kisses, earning a few giggles from you.

Zoro: You knew what he was about from day one: an ambitious man with dreams that he’d never be willing to put on hold. Even though you never sought to change this aspect of him, you had a wish - one that you yourself labeled as selfish - that he’d spend less time perfecting his skills and more time with you. 

You tried suggesting something to do together, but it didn’t really suit his mood for that day. Having been rejected, albeit done softly and without malice, you still took it to heart. Letting your emotions bubble out of you through slight tears, the build-up from the past few weeks was too much to hold back. Seeing your heart-wrenching display, he did his best to calm you down and find out what the matter was.

As you explained the cascading sorrow, he listened intently so as not to misinterpret. He lifted your hands to his lips, placing a firm yet tender kiss on them as he soothed your woes. A compromise needed to be made to ensure you could have more quality time without it hindering any goals he’d set for himself. With a subtle smile tugging at your lips, he pulled you closer and gently pecked a kiss on your temple.

Sanji: He was a very careful and attentive man. The moments that you had hiccups in the relationship were few and far between seeing as he was so eager to please you and make you happy. He was, however, excitable and as adorable as that trait was, he tended to flail his arms around sometimes while still holding a lit cigarette.

Although you warned him time and time again to be more careful, he would still occasionally forget about it. With so much having happened on the Sunny, what with the success the crew had just had, there was so much energy coursing through everyone. As you were coming up from behind, Sanji enthusiastically waved his hands, making the one holding the lit cigarette collide with yours. Though brief, you grunted from the sudden discomfort and promptly tugged your hand away.

When he realized what he’d done, he was left groveling at your feet, holding you tightly and begging for forgiveness—while also sobbing that he didn’t deserve any. You held onto him, telling him that it was an honest mistake and not to fret about it. The reassurance in your voice, knowing that it was just a quick brush, made him feel so unworthy to be with you. You could expect him to continue making it up to you for the rest of your days.

[another-lost-mc]

Got any thots/ideas in wing kink for Luci, Simeon, or anyone with wings?

a/n: there's a few different types of wings among the cast, but I think they're all unique and worth talking about!

wing headcanons

featuring: lucifer, mammon, asmodeus, beelzebub, diavolo, simeon, raphael, michael (and any oc with wings)

0.7k words | nsfw | suggestive

cw: wing kink implied. sexual situations and predator/prey kink mentioned. the predator/prey kink section is after the divider if you prefer not to read that part.

One of the first signs of trust is the casual affection he shows you when his wings are revealed. He might not always reach for your hand in public, especially if he's a bit more reserved by nature. However, what you do feel is the soft sensation of his wing brushing against your side when you walk beside him. He doesn't even mean to do it at first. It's like his wing naturally extends itself to curl around your back or glide against your arm. It's an unconscious gesture motivated by his feelings for you.

He might ask you to help with his wing care next. If he has wings made of feathers, he sits patiently while you preen them. You're especially careful when you straighten the feathers that look stuck out of place. Your hands are coated with a special oil that keeps his wings soft and protected from harsh wind and cool rain. It's a ritual for both of you now, one that often leads to grateful kisses and quickly descends into passionate lovemaking. Preening his wings was something he didn't enjoy doing by himself, or he reluctantly asked others to help him. Now that he has you, he craves the intimacy of it.

Leathery wings don't require the same level of care, but your lover is still grateful when you try to make him feel pampered and cared for. Sometimes stroking the edge of his wings feels ticklish. Sometimes it sends little bolts of desire shooting through his body straight to his cock. You never know whether he's going to laugh and squirm away from your hands, or if he's going to spin around and pin you underneath him.

Beelzebub's wings are thin and extremely sensitive, and he doesn't like it when they're touched. You are a rare exception. He trusts that you won't hurt the delicate wings that sit against his back. It feels nice when you gently run your fingers along the very edges. He rewards your gentleness and understanding with hungry kisses and greedy hands that rid you of all your annoying clothes.

As the crown prince, Diavolo's wings are particularly impressive and adorned with precious gold ornaments. He secretly likes it when you tease him about keeping the gilded gold pieces clean while you polish them to a glimmering shine. For special occasions, he'll even change them to a different metal that suits your preferences better—he wants to look his best for you. Don't be surprised when he offers you gifts of jewelry made with the same precious metals and jewels that match his own. He would love to see you wear them—and only them—the next time he invites you to spend the night.

Most of the time, fucking someone in his true form can be clumsy or awkward. He doesn't just let anyone touch their wings so intimately either. When you're intimate, he might purposefully reveal his wings. His wings wrap around your body and draw you close while he shields you from the world, protecting you when you're naked and vulnerable. (It also hides you from unworthy eyes that don't deserve to see you that way.) Sometimes his wings randomly appear in the height of passion, unfurling at his back when pleasure drives away all thought and reason except the singular desire to touch you. When his mind isn't clouded with lust, he looks a bit bashful that he lost control like that to begin with—it only happens when he's with you.

Another possibility is a little bit of predator/prey roleplay. Have you ever wondered what it would feel like to be hunted? Your winged lover is more than happy to indulge in this kink should you ask. The forests of the Devildom (or the human world) are perfect for this. He leads you there and urges you towards the tree line in front of you. He'll even give you a head start.

(You're going to need it.)

It begins when you finally run into the darkened woods with only glimpses of moonlight to illuminate your path. The smallest sounds are impossibly loud, echoing off the trees around you: a snapping twig, the crunch of fallen leaves under your feet, your own ragged, panted breaths. Sometimes you see movement from the corner of your eye and when you turn around, there's nothing there. What you do notice is the tree branch high above you shaking slightly, as if someone was just there and then launched himself back into the sky.

(He's toying with you.)

Adrenaline gives you one last burst of energy that propels your feet forward, and you keep running despite the burning in your lungs. The blood in your veins is laced with lust and fear in equal measure. It's not long before you finally hear it: the sound of wings slicing through the air and growing louder as he draws near. Do you hear the soft swish of feathers? The taut snap of leathery wings billowing against the wind? Or perhaps it's the bzzzt of wings fluttering rapidly at his back that quickens your pulse? Suddenly, his familiar silhouette looms above you and blocks the moon from view. You're pinned against his chest before you realize what's happening, and his arms (and sometimes wings) curl around your body. Greedy hands start to pull at your clothes as he crushes his lips against yours. The game is over, and you're finally his to claim.

read more: obey me masterlist

[moonselune]

I don't know of you have done something like this, but if not, could you do scenarios for the dark au where tav gets hurt by someone who wants to take their place? Maybe they think they are unworthy? Adore your writing 😊

Ahhh thank you so much !! This was super fun to write !

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Dark!BG3 | Replacement

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

For: Conqueror!Minthara, MotherSuperior!Shadowheart, God!Gale, Ascended!Astarion, Naturist!Halsin, GrandDuke!Wyll

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

CW: Controlling, manipulation, coercion, forced memory loss, blood, murder, F!reader only noticeable in Wyll's though

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Conqueror Minthara:

The dark silence of the Underdark gardens wrapped around you like a shroud, broken only by the echo of your own hurried footsteps. The recent fight with Minthara had left you frustrated, her possessive nature grating at you until you’d finally stormed off. You knew it would unsettle her; Minthara wasn’t one to let anyone, least of all you, slip from her grasp so easily. Still, you had hoped she’d give you a moment to breathe. As you heard footsteps approaching, you rolled your eyes, assuming she had come after you, too possessive to let even a single disagreement take you from her.

But something felt wrong.

The figure moving toward you was silent, controlled—lacking Minthara’s usual predatory grace. You barely had time to react before you saw a glint of steel, and a sharp pain seared across your side. You stumbled backward, clutching the wound, blood slipping through your fingers. As you looked up, your gaze met with the cold, disdainful eyes of Minthara’s second in command, the drow who had always regarded you with thinly veiled contempt. Her smile was a twisted thing, cold and malicious.

“Surprised?” she sneered, moving closer, her weapon dripping with your blood. “You really thought Minthara would care about some pet who has no place here? I’m going to end this—make it look like you couldn’t handle the Underdark after all. That you tried to escape. Minthara will believe it. She’ll have no choice but to move on.”

A chill ran through you as you realized the depth of her envy. This wasn’t just hatred; it was the envy of someone who despised what you had with Minthara, resenting that Minthara would choose you over anyone else. She stepped forward again, preparing to strike. But before she could make contact, you shoved her back with all the strength you could muster, sending her stumbling.

She staggered, then stopped short as her back hit something solid.

No… someone.

The second-in-command whirled around, eyes widening in horror as she came face-to-face with Minthara herself, who stood in the shadowed path with a deadly calm. Minthara’s gaze was dark, her face set into an expression of quiet, simmering rage that made the air feel even colder. Her eyes flicked from her subordinate’s trembling form to the blood dripping from your wound, taking in the entire scene in an instant.

“It’s not what—” the second-in-command stammered, scrambling for words, but Minthara cut her off with a look that could freeze fire.

“Silence.” Her voice was low, yet filled with an icy fury that sent a shiver down your spine. She reached out with a quick, brutal motion, grabbing her second-in-command by the throat, squeezing hard enough to cut off any attempt at explanation. The drow gasped for air, her eyes wide with terror as Minthara’s grip tightened, her nails digging into the delicate skin of her neck.

Minthara leaned in close, her voice a venomous whisper.

“You thought you could lay a hand on what belongs to me? You dared to assume you had any right to touch them?” With a powerful surge, Minthara threw her to the ground, her movements sharp and precise, her eyes blazing with an almost unhinged rage. “You’ll wish for death before I’m done with you.”

The second-in-command lay incapacitated, her body twitching as Minthara’s magic left her unable to move, trapped in a state of suspended agony. Only then did Minthara turn her attention to you, her expression softening slightly as she moved toward you with an almost predatory care. She knelt beside you, her hand reaching out to steady you as she examined the wound on your side.

“You were hurt,” she murmured, a faint trace of anger still lacing her tone, but there was something else, too—a flicker of concern beneath the dark fury. She ran a gentle hand over your wound, applying enough pressure to stem the bleeding, her touch unexpectedly tender.

Despite the pain, you found yourself laughing, a soft chuckle that echoed through the silence.

“I knew you wouldn’t let me out of your sight,” you managed, your voice laced with irony. “Couldn’t lose control over me for even a moment, could you?”

Minthara’s eyes met yours, a dangerous glint in them, but there was something close to satisfaction there too.

“And a good thing it was,” she replied, her lips curving into a dark smile. “Or perhaps I would’ve had to hunt down the fool who thought they could steal you from me.”

Her hand moved from your wound to cradle your face, her thumb tracing your cheek in a gesture that was both possessive and strangely affectionate.

“You belong to me,” she whispered, her voice fierce. “No one else. Don’t ever forget that.”

She helped you to your feet, her arm around your waist, her grip both a support and a reminder of her control. You leaned into her touch, feeling the strength in her hold, the unyielding protection that came with her possessive love.

Behind you, her second-in-command lay helpless, bound by Minthara’s spell, and you knew without a doubt that her fate would be brutal. You didn’t need to watch to know that Minthara’s punishment would be swift and merciless. She would make an example out of her former subordinate, a warning to anyone who dared threaten what was hers.

As Minthara led you back through the garden, her hand firm around you, you felt a mixture of relief and resignation. She had saved your life, yes, but the possessiveness that drove her had been there all along, the dark and consuming love that wouldn’t allow you even a moment of freedom. She had saved you, but it was all to preserve what she saw as hers.

The pain in your side pulsed, but Minthara’s hand remained steady on your waist, her grip almost comforting in its possessiveness. In her twisted mind, her actions were justified. She had protected you, saved you from harm—she would do anything to keep you, even if that meant wrapping you tighter in her control.

As you walked together, you glanced up at her, and for a moment, you thought you saw a hint of something soft in her gaze. But then her expression shifted, her smile dark and triumphant. In her mind, she had won; she had kept you safe, defeated any threat to her claim on you.

And as she led you deeper into her realm, into the shadows where you would remain by her side, you knew that you would always be hers.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Mother Superior Shadowheart:

The courtyard of the cloister was cloaked in the muted gray light of early morning, shadows creeping along the stone walls as you squared off against your opponent. You took in the young Sharran before you, an ambitious acolyte whose eyes gleamed with a familiar hunger—a dangerous mix of ambition and jealousy.

You’d noticed their glances toward Shadowheart, the way they lingered when she walked past, barely concealing the devotion in their gaze. It was almost amusing to you, for no one in this cloister could threaten the place you held at her side. The memory gaps may have left holes in your mind, but your body moved with sharp, instinctual precision, honed through countless battles. You didn’t need memory to remind you that you were one of the best.

You circled each other, fists raised, and the acolyte’s stance was confident, too confident. You could feel the arrogance radiating from them, and it made you chuckle under your breath. They thought they were someone to be feared, someone with the skill to challenge you. And yet, as the fight began, it was clear they had underestimated your reflexes, your raw power.

Blow after blow, you dodged, struck, and blocked with a near-effortless grace that left them seething. It was obvious now they were outmatched, but there was no sign of retreat in their eyes. Instead, their lips curled into a sneer, and they muttered something under their breath—something too low for you to hear, but the bitterness was evident. And then, with a swift, practiced motion, they reached inside their cloak and pulled out a dagger, its blade glinting sharply in the dim light.

You felt a flicker of surprise. This was supposed to be a sparring match, nothing more, and yet they’d brought a knife into the fight. You tensed, muscles coiling as your eyes narrowed on the blade in their hand.

“So,” they taunted, their voice laced with venom, “the Mother Superior’s pet isn’t as sharp as she used to be. Gaps in memory, isn’t it? She doesn’t tell you everything, does she? How does it feel to be kept like a mindless tool, only good for taking orders?” They circled closer, eyes glinting with malicious amusement. “You don’t belong by her side. You’re just… convenient. Nothing more.”

The words stung, gnawing at the back of your mind. It was true that there were holes in your memories, pieces that didn’t quite fit, details that you couldn’t fully recall. But you pushed the thoughts aside, refusing to let them take root. Whatever was missing, whatever had been forgotten, it didn’t matter. You were here, and you were hers. That was all that mattered.

But the Sharran sensed your hesitation, a flash of doubt, and they pressed their advantage, lunging forward with the dagger. You dodged, narrowly avoiding the blade as it sliced through the air, but their relentless attacks began to push you back. You caught glimpses of their smirk, their taunting gaze, as if they were relishing every missed block, every moment of weakness.

And then, in a swift, brutal move, they managed to slip through your guard, the dagger cutting across your arm. You hissed in pain, blood dripping from the fresh wound, and you staggered back, feeling the weight of the fight suddenly shift. They saw the opening, and their eyes lit up with a triumphant gleam. They lunged forward again, the dagger poised for the killing blow.

But just as the blade was about to strike, they stopped—frozen in place, eyes wide with terror. Their limbs were rigid, locked in a stance of helpless fury, and a faint, dark aura shimmered around them. You looked up, following the line of their terrified gaze, and saw her.

Shadowheart stood at the edge of the courtyard, her eyes blazing with fury, her hand raised in a silent spell. With a flick of her wrist, the Sharran acolyte’s head twisted sharply, an audible snap echoing through the air as their body crumpled to the ground, lifeless.

For a moment, the only sound was your own ragged breathing as Shadowheart strode forward, her expression a cold mask of wrath. She didn’t even glance at the fallen acolyte, her focus entirely on you. She knelt beside you, her hands gentle as they traced over the wound on your arm, her fingers glowing with a faint healing light.

“Are you alright?” she asked, her voice soft, a sharp contrast to the deadly fury she had just displayed.

You nodded, your gaze flicking between her and the lifeless body nearby.

“They… they mentioned something about gaps in my memory,” you said cautiously, searching her eyes. “They said I don’t belong here. That I don’t know the whole truth.”

A shadow passed over her face, and for a moment, her grip on your arm tightened slightly. But then she softened, her fingers brushing over your skin as if to soothe the hurt beyond the physical wound.

“They were just trying to weaken you, to plant seeds of doubt in your mind,” she replied, her voice steady and calm. “Your place is here, with me. By my side. You belong nowhere else.”

She leaned closer, her gaze locking onto yours with a fierce intensity. “The gaps in your memory… they’re a consequence of the life you had before. A life that no longer matters. I saved you from that. I brought you here, to the cloister, where you can be who you’re meant to be. With me.”

The warmth of her magic seeped into your wound, and you felt the pain ebb away, replaced by a comforting numbness. The lingering doubt in your mind was overshadowed by the strength of her conviction, her unwavering belief in the path she had set for you. Shadowheart was your anchor, your guiding star, and you could feel the weight of her possessive devotion wrapping around you, a reminder that whatever had come before no longer held any power over you.

You managed a small smile, nodding as you reached up to brush a hand over her cheek, feeling the coolness of her skin.

“I trust you,” you murmured. “And I’m grateful to be by your side.”

She returned your smile, her gaze softening as she covered your hand with her own.

“Good. Because that’s exactly where you belong.” She cast one last, dismissive glance at the body of the acolyte, her lips curling in distaste. “No one else will threaten you. They don’t deserve to stand in your shadow.”

As she helped you to your feet, her arm wrapped around your waist, guiding you back to the cloister, the doubt faded away entirely. Whatever shadows lingered in your past, whatever memories had been lost, it didn’t matter. You were hers, and she was yours, and no one would ever take that from you.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

God of Ambition Gale:

The dim candlelight of the summoning chamber cast flickering shadows over the cold stone walls, and the air was thick with incense and chanting. You shifted slightly, testing the limits of the runic circle that bound you in place, but every movement was met with an oppressive, invisible force, pressing down on you with unyielding weight.

As the realization settled in, your initial smirk of amusement at this mortal’s audacity faded, replaced by a gnawing unease. It was almost laughable how easily they had managed to capture you; Gale’s control over your divine power left you vulnerable, deliberately kept weak to prevent you from ever fully escaping his grasp. And now, as you felt your strength ebbing, you understood the gravity of your situation.

The follower knelt before you, a zealous glint in their eyes as they recited incantations, their voice laced with fervor. Dressed in elaborate robes, they wore talismans devoted to Gale, symbols of their fanatical devotion etched into every surface of the summoning chamber. The entire place was a shrine to ambition itself, each detail meticulously designed to honor your god—and your captor.

The follower finally lifted their gaze to you, a manic smile stretching across their face.

"You don’t deserve him," they hissed, their tone a poisonous mix of reverence and disdain. "You’re a weak god, nothing more than a hollow vessel given power by him. But me…" They leaned forward, their voice trembling with adoration. "I could worship him in ways you never could. Gale deserves undivided devotion, unbroken ambition. Not… someone as faint and powerless as you."

You opened your mouth to respond, to laugh off their words, but the runes pulsed, and with each pulse, you felt a new wave of your strength drain, seeping out of you and into the lines of the ritual. Your heart sank. This wasn’t just a simple binding. It was a siphoning—a slow, deliberate draw on your power, meant to weaken you enough to fuel the summoning of Gale himself.

They took a step closer, their eyes wide with triumph as they watched the light fading in your eyes.

"How does it feel, I wonder, knowing your own god keeps you shackled like a plaything? To be so close to greatness, yet to never truly be allowed to touch it?" They tilted their head, enjoying your silence, interpreting it as surrender.

And for a moment, there was fear in you. Not for yourself but for the terrible emptiness left behind as your power faded—a hollow reminder of Gale’s relentless control. You knew he saw you as his own, a piece of his ambition that could never exist independently, even as a god. This mortal, in their arrogance, had taken advantage of that very control, and now you were helpless in a way that gnawed at you.

The ritual circle blazed with renewed energy, and the room shook as a presence took form in the air—a dark, powerful force pressing down on everything within the chamber. The candle flames flickered and bowed as if in reverence, and a sudden silence swallowed the chanting, the air itself holding its breath as Gale stepped into the room, his very presence swallowing up all light and sound.

The follower fell to their knees, eyes wide with reverence and ecstasy.

"My lord!" they whispered, their voice filled with adoration as they reached out toward him. "I have shown you my devotion, captured this… pretender, to prove my worth. I am yours, my lord. Take me in place of—"

Gale’s gaze shifted from you to his devotee, a glint of curiosity sparking in his dark eyes as he studied them. His expression was unreadable, his face set into that unsettlingly calm mask he wore whenever he assessed someone who had piqued his interest. For a moment, the acolyte seemed to believe they had earned his favor, their face glowing with hope as they knelt before him.

But then Gale’s eyes narrowed, and a chill swept over the room as his expression darkened.

“You misunderstand your place,” he said, his voice soft, the calm tone belying the fury simmering beneath it. "You, a mere follower, believed yourself capable of taking what is mine?" He took a slow, measured step forward, his gaze never leaving the trembling form before him. "Did you think that capturing a god under my domain would earn my favor? Or did you simply seek to undermine me, thinking yourself worthy of such… ambition?"

The follower’s eyes widened in terror as they tried to back away, words of apology tumbling from their lips, but Gale’s power was already wrapping around them, a dark, suffocating force that held them immobile.

“It seems you lack an understanding of devotion," Gale continued, his voice chilling in its softness. "Let me show you what happens to those who overstep their bounds."

With a flick of his wrist, the follower’s body seized up, their breath catching in their throat as they gasped, unable to move. Gale’s magic seemed to compress around them, their bones creaking as his power slowly crushed the life from them, his face a mask of calm detachment. Their eyes rolled back in agony, their limbs contorting as Gale made his judgment swift and final, using them as an example of ambition misguided.

And then, in a flash, it was over. The follower’s lifeless form crumpled to the ground, leaving a chilling silence in the air.

Gale finally turned his attention to you, his expression softening as he regarded you, though the possessiveness in his gaze was as strong as ever. He stepped into the circle, effortlessly dispersing the runes with a wave of his hand, releasing you from the binding that had held you so helplessly in place. He reached out, fingers brushing over your cheek with a strange tenderness, his touch a reminder of both his power and his control over you.

“Fear not, my muse,” he murmured, his voice rich with dark affection. “No one else will touch what belongs to me. Not even those who worship me.”

You nodded, your head dipping in a gesture of submission, knowing that he would take no other answer. Gale smiled, his thumb tracing your jawline with possessive satisfaction, and he pulled you close, his hand settling at the back of your neck.

“You are bound to me,” he whispered, his voice soft but laced with command. “Your power is mine to grant or withhold, and none shall touch it, or you, without my will.”

And with that, he led you from the chamber, the empty remains of his follower a silent warning to any who dared question the place he had carved out for you in his unyielding ambition. Gale was your god, your captor, and your guardian all in one—and no one would come between you and his dark, consuming love.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Ascended Astarion:

The sunlight was unforgiving, searing down on your skin the instant you were thrown into it. Agony flared as the delicate warding spell that had protected you disintegrated, leaving you exposed to the relentless rays of the sun. Pain consumed you, blinding and unbearable as your flesh burned, blistering and cracking in mere seconds.

You stumbled, gasping as the raw heat seared through muscle and bone. You tried to scream, but your voice died in your throat, choked out by the fire consuming you. The world was blurring in and out, and through the haze of agony, you could make out the blurred silhouette of your attacker, smirking from the safety of the shadows just inside the door, watching with satisfaction as you writhed.

The spawn had been relentless in their ambition, and it was only in that agonizing moment that you finally understood just how deeply their envy ran. They thought themselves worthy of Astarion’s favor, the one destined to be his dark consort, and they had waited for the right opportunity, the chance to strip you of your place by his side.

Your vision dimmed as the fire ate away at you, the edges of consciousness fading. You barely registered the door bursting open again or the cold shadow that swept over you as hands—cold, firm hands—gripped you and pulled you away from the merciless light. The next thing you felt was the cool press of stone beneath you, the oppressive heat gone, and then… nothing. There was nothing but pain and darkness.

Through the haze, you felt something pressed to your lips—warm and metallic, filling your senses with the rich, familiar scent of blood. Instinctively, you drank, the sensation grounding you, soothing the burning wounds with each pull. Slowly, the pain dulled, replaced by a distant, comforting hum. Your senses began to return, the blurry edges of the room coming into focus as you felt the charred skin mending, painfully knitting back together as life returned to your broken form.

As you finally blinked the haze from your eyes, you found yourself staring up at Astarion’s face, his crimson eyes softened with an uncharacteristic tenderness, though his mouth was drawn into a taut line. His hand cupped your cheek as if you were something fragile, his thumb brushing over the fresh, healed skin where burns had marred it only moments ago. He was murmuring softly, words flowing over you in a tone both soothing and possessive, though you could hardly process them in your dazed state.

“It’s all right, my sweet,” he cooed, his voice low and warm as he leaned over you, his face barely inches from yours. “You’re safe now. I won’t let anyone harm you, not like that.”

You blinked, slowly looking past him, only to freeze as the full scene came into focus. Scattered around you were bloodied remains—the spawn, or rather, what was left of them, was strewn across the room. Their limbs had been torn from their body, reduced to a gruesome pile of parts on the cold stone floor. The once-confident smirk you had seen on their face was gone, replaced now by a horrified stillness in their lifeless eyes.

Astarion’s grip on you tightened as he followed your gaze, his expression darkening.

“Oh, don’t waste your energy on them,” he murmured, his tone smooth but edged with a chilling coldness. He tilted your face back to him, forcing your gaze to meet his. “They thought they could take what’s mine, dared to strip you of the protection I gave you, to hurt you. But they forgot one simple thing.”

His hand traced down from your cheek to your throat, where his fingers rested possessively, feeling the steady pulse of your blood.

“You’re mine. Body, soul, and everything in between,” he whispered, his voice a velvet command. “No one else could ever take your place.”

The fear, the agony, the helplessness of moments ago seemed to fade as he held you, his arms wrapped around you with a fierce protectiveness. His fingers stroked through your hair as he continued to murmur assurances, the words as binding as a spell, each one a reaffirmation of your place at his side. There was no room for doubt; in his arms, you were shielded from the pain, shielded from everything but his absolute, consuming devotion.

“They all think they’re special, my dear,” he said, casting a disdainful glance at the remains. “But they’re not like you, none of them. You, my sweet, are the only one worthy of my power, my attention. You belong to me—and I to you.” He smiled, a cold, dangerous glint in his eyes as he brushed a lock of hair back from your face. "And I won’t let anyone interfere with that."

You managed a weak nod, leaning into his touch as he continued to hold you close. The last vestiges of the agony you had endured melted away, leaving only the soft, possessive murmur of his voice, the steady rhythm of his fingers tracing over your skin, as he soothed and calmed you back from the brink. He was your anchor, your constant, and in this moment, his power was a shield around you.

As he held you, the remnants of his wrath still lingering in his gaze, you knew that no one else would ever challenge your place beside him. Astarion had made his stance clear in the most brutal way possible, a warning to any who would dare cross him—and a reminder to you that, no matter what, he would always keep you close, bound to him in his dark, all-encompassing love.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Naturist Halsin:

The grove was quiet, the leaves whispering softly as a gentle breeze passed through, but that night, something felt amiss. Halsin lay beside you, watching the steady rise and fall of your chest as you slept, and assumed you were simply exhausted from the long day spent in the forest. He smiled, pressing a light kiss to your forehead, and closed his own eyes, content to rest with you beside him. But when he stirred from sleep later in the night, something had changed. A low, strangled sound pulled him from his slumber, and in the faint moonlight, he saw your body trembling, the tremors rolling through you like a shiver from the deepest cold.

You weren’t asleep; you were convulsing, and a dark glisten of sweat clung to your brow. Alarm shot through Halsin, who immediately recognized the signs of poison—a potent, slow-working concoction he’d seen used in rare cases within the grove.

His mind raced as he searched for the antidote, pulling it from his stores and carefully administering it, tilting your head back to help you drink, whispering words of encouragement as he steadied your shaking hands.

After a few agonizing moments, the worst of your spasms subsided, and your breathing leveled out. Weak and shaken, you looked up at him with hazy eyes, trying to focus. Halsin kept his gaze soft, filled with concern but tinged with a growing anger simmering beneath. He held you close as you regained your strength, his hand a steady presence on your back.

Once you could stand, Halsin supported you, guiding you from your resting place out into the heart of the grove. Under the canopy of starlit leaves, he called upon the druids, summoning them with a low, commanding tone. His voice reverberated through the grove, uncharacteristically severe, and one by one, the druids gathered in the clearing, forming a loose circle around you both.

Halsin’s protective arm around your shoulders lent you strength as you looked at each of their faces, searching for the one who had betrayed you.

Though your hands still trembled, your gaze hardened as you focused on a single figure at the edge of the circle, a druid whose stance was too stiff, whose eyes averted yours. The poisoner looked back at you, a faint glint of resentment flashing in their eyes before they began to back away, inching toward the cover of the trees. Without hesitation, you raised a shaky hand, pointing directly at them.

"It’s… it’s them," you whispered, your voice weak but sure.

The druid’s face twisted with fear and defiance, and in one swift motion, they turned, making a desperate break toward the edge of the grove, hoping to escape into the shadows.

But Halsin would not allow them to flee. His jaw tightened, his fury coming to the surface in an uncharacteristic, brutal wave. With a single gesture, he summoned thick, thorned vines from the earth.

They erupted from the soil with a life of their own, coiling like serpents as they slithered after the fleeing druid. The vines caught up quickly, wrapping around the traitor’s legs and yanking them down to the ground, winding up over their body with fierce intent.

The thorned vines tightened, digging into flesh, piercing through clothing and skin alike. Blood began to pool, dark and stark against the earthy ground, as the vines tore through, showing no mercy. The grove seemed to hold its breath, watching as the very nature that the traitor had twisted for their own purposes now turned on them. Halsin’s gaze was unyielding as he watched, his expression set, the compassion he usually reserved for his people absent.

The druid let out a strangled cry as the thorns pressed deeper, breaking skin and severing tendons, each tightening coil met with a gory result. Their blood soaked into the earth, nourishing it, just as Halsin had intended, a grotesque reminder of what happened to those who threatened his own. For him, this act was justice—a stark, undeniable message to any who might dare undermine the safety of his grove or his kin.

Finally, as the druid’s life slipped away, Halsin released his hold, the vines loosening and receding back into the ground, leaving only silence and the faint scent of blood on the forest floor.

When it was over, he turned to you, his expression softening as he placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder.

"You are safe now," he said, his voice a blend of calm and the fierce protectiveness that had driven him to act so ruthlessly. “No one will harm you here again.”

Though you were shaken, you found strength in his touch, nodding as he pulled you close, his embrace as unyielding as the very nature he had summoned to protect you. The grove was a place of sanctuary, of balance—and Halsin had shown that he would stop at nothing to keep it that way, even if it meant spilling blood into the very soil he had sworn to protect.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Grand Duke Wyll:

The opulence of the ballroom shimmered around you, chandeliers casting warm light over the swirling dancers, the ornate fabrics, and glittering jewels. You held your head high beside the Grand Duke, finding solace in the joy of the night despite the whispers that trailed in your wake. Nobles murmured, their words carrying faintly over the music. Most of it you had learned to ignore, but tonight, the gossip felt sharp and unrelenting. Snippets of conversation floated past, just loud enough to reach your ears.

“Can you believe they let her into the ballroom at his side?” one of them whispered with a haughty laugh. “She looks more suited to a servant’s position,” sneered another, their words laced with contempt. You clenched your hands at your sides, taking steady breaths to brush off their malice. But then, their murmurs grew darker.

“I heard the Grand Duke only keeps her around for amusement. How long, I wonder, until he tires of her?” someone murmured, laughing softly. “It would be such a scandal if she were to just… disappear, wouldn’t it?”

Their venomous words stung in a way that you hadn’t anticipated, pressing upon a wound that you had tried to bury. You excused yourself, weaving through the crowd until you found the balcony, stepping out into the cool night air. The stars twinkled overhead, their beauty a quiet comfort against the bitterness of the nobles’ words. You leaned against the balustrade, the city lights below calming you, giving you a moment’s peace. But that peace was short-lived.

Behind you, the same group of nobles had followed, lingering just by the doorway. One of them tittered, their tone thick with false innocence.

“Out here on the balcony, alone?” another mocked, their tone feigning concern. “Careful, dear. You wouldn’t want to lose your balance.”

You turned to leave, but they circled around, blocking your path with thinly veiled malice. Their eyes gleamed with an unsettling intent as they crowded closer, nudging you further out toward the edge of the balcony. Your pulse quickened as your back met the cold stone of the balustrade, the space behind you yawning into open air.

“Oh, no need to look so frightened. We’re simply having a little chat,” one of them cooed, their smirk betraying their intent. They pressed closer, each small movement edging you nearer to the ledge.

Then, a voice rang out, slicing through the tension like a knife:

“Enough.” Wyll’s voice was calm, but there was an unmistakable, sharp edge beneath it that cut the air like steel. The nobles immediately straightened, stepping back from you, their sneers evaporating as they turned to face the Grand Duke himself.

“We were only talking to her, Your Grace,” one of them stammered, their tone suddenly meek. “No harm intended.”

Wyll’s gaze was dark, his eyes smoldering as he took in the scene, his jaw set and expression unreadable. He looked at you, his expression softening for a moment.

“Are you all right?” he asked, his voice gentler, the protective undercurrent unmistakable. You swallowed, brushing off the fear that had crept in.

“Yes, Wyll. I’m fine,” you replied, trying to steady your voice.

But he didn’t release his hard gaze from the group of nobles before him. His mouth curved slightly, a hint of a chilling smile playing at his lips as he issued his next command: “Jump. Off. The. Balcony.”

The nobles’ eyes widened, shock rippling through their features. One of them dared a weak laugh, disbelief clear in their tone. “Your Grace, we were only—”

Wyll’s smile vanished, replaced by an expression of cold steel. “You heard me,” he said, his tone low and final, his gaze unwavering as he pointed toward the balcony’s edge. “If you think it’s amusing to dangle someone on the edge, let’s see how you enjoy it.”

You placed a hand on his arm, trying to dissuade him. “Wyll, it’s not necessary,” you murmured softly. “They were… they were just being cruel.”

He turned to you, his eyes softening as he spoke, but the resolve remained.

“No one threatens what is mine,” he replied, his words more promise than explanation. “No one.”

He looked back at the nobles, who now trembled under his gaze, each one of them calculating their next move. They understood the Grand Duke’s reputation well—his ruthlessness and sadistic side were spoken of in hushed tones among court circles, and none of them were willing to test his patience further.

With shared glances of terror, one by one, they stepped up to the edge, each steeling themselves before casting nervous glances back at Wyll. They preferred to take their chances with the fall than face his wrath.

With a reluctant step backward, the first noble swung a leg over the edge, preparing to lower themselves down rather than leap, followed by the others, each descending with as much dignity as they could muster. Their terrified breaths and grunts of effort echoed faintly as they made their way down to the ground below. Each fall was punctuated with a sickening thud that made your stomach lurch each time.

When the last of them was gone, Wyll turned back to you, his expression softening again. He reached out, brushing a gentle hand against your cheek, his voice lowering to a soothing murmur. “No one will ever make you feel less than what you are, not while I am here. Do you understand?”

You nodded, his touch grounding you, the earlier fear beginning to fade. Wyll wrapped an arm around you, drawing you close, his gaze lingering protectively as he looked back over the balcony, ensuring that no one was there to help any unfortunate survivors, he wanted to let them rot, let the world see what happens to those who threaten what is his.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Okay so no cambions in this, I'm going to add them when I finish their catch ups because I kind of follow a narrative with these and I have not fully fleshed out their narritives yet. Hope you guys enjoyed this ! - Seluney xox

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