#he played both sides and now they just resent him. even if he keeps helping them with the little trinkets that he sells.

[soaked-ghost]

girls that struggle to breath and can't maintain a stable form and who hate each other

[vintagecandy]

Now for the 1920s reimagining of Jonathan Crane ! sorry this explanation is even longer lmao

As everyone's been saying, I should do the rest of the Dork Squad to match 1920s Jervis, and so here is my Jonathan! Easily the hardest to draw out of the three-- but I must say! Despite being outside my expertise, I'm a little surprised how much it looks exactly like I was imagining! Even if it took me ages but that's just procrastination lmao.

Anyways! What is his deal? Well, for one, design wise I did go a more drastically different direction from his usual look by doing a literal scareCROW. He's much more bird like, with a plague doctor mask being common imagery in steampunk, but he's still very southern themed with his messy broken overall strap and patchwork coat. Even his wings are rustic. ( he can't fly just glide btw lol ) Also! I leaned hard into the color orange instead of his usual green gas because it..... bugs me that both Crane and Nygma have a bright green in their color palette. I just want them to have distinct colors if they're going to be a trio. And look how vintage halloweeny he looks !!

So why is he so well dressed out of costume? Well! This Jonathan Crane is not a psychologist at all, here he is the very successful grandfather of horror movies in the silent film era. ( An illustrious origin, i hope canon Crane would be proud lmao ). This is referenced in how his face looks, he's wearing white powder and black makeup that's usually meant to emphasize key features on blurry film like his upper lip and around his eyes. And yes, he just keeps his makeup on during most events, and people just accept he's a little on the... eccentric side.

To me, the archetype of the mad artist fits Jonathan's vibe perfectly. When it comes to striking fear, he's a perfectionist, a trait that drove him to learn every single skill necessary himself, from costume design to props to making his own cameras to mechanical engineering, to.... a "fear gas" that was supposed to gently encourage immersion in the audience but ended up becoming a dangerous chemical weapon.

For his origin crime I am thinking !! Full blown Scooby Doo style monster mystery!! With some nuance! Crane, as a first impression, gives off an immediate air of pompous, aggressively impatient, pretentious director type. His presence is big and dramatic, but its distinctly not southern-- in fact, he seems to play up something between a hollywood accent and a thespian one. But this is all to cover for his farm hick background that he was once very ashamed of.

As a child of a failing farmhand during an infamously dry and dusty era, Jonathan developed an extreme resentment for his country existence from both the bullying of other children for all his strange quirks and the severe verbal and physical abuse of his father, driven to alcoholism by the stress of poverty and the loss of his wife. Originally offering his artistic ideas as a means to help them, he grows sick of their closed mindedness and berating and runs away to learn about the emerging potential of film in Gotham City.

Its been many years, Jonathan now in his early 30s, he finds himself surrounded by the shallow, champagne aristocrats that reflect his childhood bullies. Feeling wrong in his own skin, he develops a sightly unhealthy obsession with the escapism he finds in performing as the monsters in his movies.

But upon discovering that the corrupt rich of Gotham plan to push legislation that would negatively effect farmers like his own history, and that they expected him to be amongst those who support it, his irritation with the shallowness of society reaches its limits. In day, he would feign support for their behavior to cover his tracks, but at night he would don the mask of the Scarecrow, rumored to be the vengeful spirit of a farmer who was hanged, and who he believes to be a more freeing expression of himself than his true face, targeting not just the rich but striking fear in their laborers to scare them off land. And it works. So, he tries bending the will of society more.

Is he doing this out of any moral conviction or just spite and a love for the role? It's... hard to say.

As the Scarecrow, his methods are so effective he's near uncatchable, even by Batman. Its only by solving the mystery of who is under the mask are they able to catch him. They surprise him during one of his screenings, jump him in the dark, and prove his subtle use of fear gas in the theater to the police once he's cornered. Instead of being angry, he goes to the mad house applauding Batman's performance.

What an interesting character they play. He's very inspired.

[anjellaufeyson]

The truth lays within jealousy- Bellamy Blake

Warnings: basically just cursing and knife play

Summary: Bellamy's your enemy but things begin to take a turn once you start fighting to push through emotions you feel towards each other.

Bellamy Blake made my blood boil, and I prayed I made him feel the same way. I was best friends with his sister, Octavia. Meaning, I had no choice but to be in the same tent or room as him. The rivalry between Bellamy and I formed when the 100 first came to Earth. We were on dividing sides, he had everyone in his control and made them feel free but that ended dangerously. I was with the group that wanted to help and make sure we survived. 

“Do you always have to disagree with me, Blake?” 

He turned to look my way, his hand resting on the map below our waists laying on a table. “Do you always have to have disagreeable ideas–Kane?” He spit my last name out as if it left a bitter taste. 

I’m just thankful he didn’t call me that other name, the one he knew I so deeply despised. My eyes rolled on instinct, “You’re such a dick, you are aware of that flaw right?” 

He glared my way, “You always keep me aware don’t you, princess?” 

I fucking hated him, “Don’t call me that, Blake.” 

“What will you do if I say it again?” 

My father made me train with guards on the Ark since I was a child, I could easily take Bellamy, and him forgetting that made me always want to remind him. I stabbed my knife into the wood table and as soon as I did Octavia walked in. 

She moved the tent opening away, “What is going on?” 

Bellamy folded his arms making his muscles fight with his shirt. I tried my best to not stare but as much as I loathed this man and wished him nothing but the absolute worst–he was the formation of my desires. And that left lingering resentment. “Your friend is threatening me, O.” 

I unstuck the knife and pointed it at him from the other side of the table as I talked, “He was testing me, Tavia. It’s his favorite pastime,” I said staring harshly at Bellamy. 

“How about you both go train, maybe away from each other? You can work with Murphy and I’m sure you can find someone, Bell.” 

I gave a half smile, “I’m sure every–what’s the number now?” I made it look like I was deep in thought, “Like 50 girls now? Are willing to train with you, you know your way around the 100, Blake.” 

Bellamy gave me dead eyes as his jaw clenched. I struck a nerve. “O, get out.”

Octavia usually hates when Bellamy orders her around just cause he's older than her but she listened without a fight this time. She knew I crossed some form of a line. She mouthed sorry to me and walked out. 

I moved over to him, my knife laying close to his throat. He didn't care, he didn't even bat an eye. He almost smirked at the notion.

“Tell me, princess, was I supposed to pent up everything I was feeling like you do? Tell me, how's that going for you?” 

My eyes widened a bit, “I’m sorry do you want me to just go sleeping around with every dude on this earth because what? I can’t deal with my emotions correctly?” 

He bit his tongue. 

“I guess maybe I should take your advice because I see how greatly it’s been going for you. The known asshole you only go to for a hit and quit it.” 

Bellamy eyed me, “Is this you trying to offer up, princess?” 

My breath was shaky, I scoffed, “Go float yourself.” I stormed out of the tent and went to the only place inside Arkadia where you could blow off steam. The training spot. Bellamy usually overwatches, sometimes with Lincoln so I wouldn’t be surprised if he made his way over here.

Murphy made his way over to me, “Need a partner?” 

I nodded my head and decided to not take my anger out on him–at least not with words. “Yes, but I can’t promise I’ll go easy on you, Murphy.” 

He smiled as he got into his stance, “I didn’t expect you to. I remember seeing you training from time to time with soldiers. I’m going to have to bring my A-game now.” 

I laughed and it made me feel a bit better, say what you want about Murphy–but his sarcasm and wit will always make you laugh. I got into position and Murphy punched towards me and I moved my hand fast enough to push it away and block it. We kept going back and forth, not taking it seriously. 

Soon, as expected Bellamy appeared. He crossed his arms as he analyzed our performances. Suddenly both of us began to take it a bit seriously, but I chose to ignore Bellamy. He knew I was holding back, it showed in Bellamy's face.

“Let me try.”

I ignored him but Murphy stopped fighting, I tried to regain my breath. Murphy was like Bellamy’s sidekick since the beginning, that faded and nobody tried to make an enemy of Bellamy. Like it or not he did run a lot of things we live by. Especially with Clarke gone. 

He got into position and I immediately went to attack. I moved close and elbowed his face causing him to move forward. I went straight for a kick to his bent knee and easily got him down. When getting up his hand stayed on my thigh as he rised up, it was like he was purposefully trying to mess me up. That could be the only reason.

“Damn Bell, maybe she should replace you as a trainer,” Octavia said while spectating. Monty and Jasper laughed. 

Bellamy stood up and hit me immediately in the gut. From the force, I took a couple of steps back, and I cursed under my breath. He shrugged with a grin forming on his lips. When he went to pull another move I grabbed his arm pointed it up, and used my left arm to push down on his arm. I twisted his shoulder and I knew I was causing pain. I had this move done to me and I was in pain for a couple of days. 

For a split second, I heard a groan from him, it almost put a smile on my face. “C’mon Blake, are you even trying? If you lose this–I can only assume where you’re going to go to…or who.” Maybe it was a low blow but he pissed me off before. 

My fist came towards him and he grabbed my arm tightly, almost hard enough to leave a bruise, and flipped me onto the ground. I tried not to give him the satisfaction of knowing I was hanging onto this fight by a thread. I kicked his stomach and he caught my leg and tried to make me fall but I did the one trick that took me years to master–I kicked with enough force off the ground for a second to gain a stance to be able to kick him back. 

Bellamy went to hit me in the face but I got to him first and elbowed him. He spit out blood and turned his head up with a grin as he wiped the blood. He tricked me and by making it seem like he was going for a low attack, I didn’t move up in time to block him and he punched me. My lip began to bleed. 

“Guys, I think you should stop now. You proved you both can fight–now stop,” Octavia warned. 

We ignored her warning and kept going. I was determined to beat him, and I didn’t have a real reason why. Part of me wondered if this was my only source of letting my emotions go, maybe I wasn’t that different from that man that I hated. We are both stubborn, witted, determined, quick-tempered, reckless, and aggressive. 

“One hit and we’re done,” he said. “Better make yours count, princess,” he whispered. The way he made it seem, that nickname was for our ears only. He never said it loud enough for others to hear and I almost preferred it that way. And when he did, he was only focused on me. As if nobody else was on the earth with us. 

My thoughts were distracted and he immediately brought me down. My back hit the ground and I winced in pain, my back arched a bit hoping that would help the pain. Before anyone could help, Bellamy quickly moved to my side. “Are you okay,” he asked almost frantically in a low voice. He sounded genuine.

The gaze I had on him changed, it softened even though I was in pain. I was utterly confused. “What are we doing,” I whispered, his back covering everyone’s view of my lips. At best, they’d hear mumbles. 

“Your solution to letting your emotions out, remember?” He lightly laughed, “Fuck, we’re idiots.” Bellamy brushed his thumb on my bottom lip, “Truce?” 

My brow almost furrowed, “Truce? Does that mean we suddenly don’t hate each other?”

He laughed and began to help me up, “No, definitely not. You’re still the bane of my being.”

I stood up and got my words out fast enough before everyone crowded me to see if I needed Abby, “And you’re still the only person I hate in this world.” 

Bellamy slowly backed away as we kept our eyes on each other, everyone kept asking if I was okay but I didn’t reply. I was too fixated on the man I detested. “I’m fine, I’m fine,” I said while brushing past them. The one person who got horrendously hurt was Bellamy, yet he didn’t complain or stop them from helping me. 

“I’ll help you to, Abby,” I said putting his arm around my shoulder which felt oddly–right. When I looked back to show Octavia I was going to help him, I just saw a group of disbelieving faces. I’d be shocked too, never would I have ever felt pity or thought of helping Bellamy. “I kicked your ass.” 

He laughed as if he didn’t have drops of blood on his shirt, “I’d call it a fair fight.” 

“I’d call it my win.” 

He glanced at my lips then my eyes, we came to a halt. “You want to finish this?” 

I could feel his hand brushing along my neck, “I think we’re probably banned from training together for a bit. Though I think that wasn’t a training session–that was fighting.” 

Bellamy’s gaze dropped, he stared at me, almost desperate as if he was yearning for something he never even got to get ahold of for years. His touch became more apparent, he stared at my lips as he talked. “I’m not talking about in the training spot.” 

My lips parted and suddenly every feeling I had for him disappeared. Only one stayed- the desire I clung to. Instead of going to Abby, Bellamy and I went into his tent.

It was as if both our strengths had been regain, like we were both pushing our limits to be ignoring our pain to mix it with pleasure. Bellamy took his shirt off with such poise and it made me roll my eyes. I started undressing myself also. My eyes lingered on his chest, God, he was so defined. Like a Greek god or a statue made out of generosity.

"My eyes are up here, princess," he said as he pushes me down onto his bed.

I didn't like how much I secretly enjoyed him calling me princess. "You're so full of it, Blake."

He kissed me roughly, as if we didn't have time to spare to be kind to one another. Our hate lingered and I loved it. I winced in pain because of my lip and that caused him to groan into my mouth. He was making it harder and harder for me to not rush this.

I switched spots with Bellamy, God forbid he lets me control one thing. I kissed down his neck being anything but gentle to the parts I knew he was going to have a bruise at tomorrow.

"Fuck," he whispered.

My hands traveled down his chest and before I could do anything he traded spots with me. "Watch yourself princess, if you keep going- I don't think I can stop myself."

"I don't want you to."

Bellamy used his knee to spread apart my legs. He put his hand around my neck and slowly pushed down so I’d be lying flat on my back. I felt my stomach growing butterflies. “I will be anything but gentle with you–” He paused and stared at my lips. “But I think you can take it.”

[yawntu]

Tsyeym

A/N: Yo I thought I posted this last night, took shrooms. Finally just woke back up came and checked and was like no way no one has interacted w this fic and then realized i never pressed post. Rotxo deserves more love so I decided in a little fic for him. Switch x Switch couples are just my cup of tea. This is not my fav but I am a sucker for love and romance. It’s grammarly proofread but not beta read 🤭 (might be looking for another beta reader)

pairing(s): Rotxo x f!Reader, platonic!Ao’nung x f!Reader (briefly)

word count: ~8k

warnings: NSFW / MDNI, Size kink, stomach bulge, face sitting(f!receiving), Cunnalingus, Cumswaping maybe?, Spit, he’s a messy eater you can’t tell me otherwise, beach sex, Jealous!Rotxo, he’s just so sweet and pretty, Unprotected, love taps on your butt, “girl” is used, it’s pretty soft for the most part, he’s obsessed and def a simp

na’vi glossary: sayrìp : handsome, skxawng : moron, tsyeym : treasure / precious

Playfully scrapping had become increasingly popular amongst your friend group since you had been introduced to each other's cultures all those years ago. It was commonplace to play amongst yourselves. Just earlier in the evening you and Ao’nung had just almost spoiled your dinner by shoving each other's faces into the sand after a slap-boxing horseplay over some crustacean turned into a rather enthralling spar that had both of your fathers rooting for and coaching from an imagined sideline (and mothers who were doing more yelling and hooting in excitement then offering tactical advice).

Rotxo had even watched in amusement as it seemed Ao’nung had succeeded in neutralizing you with a knee on your back. Unfortunately, Ao’nung had been a fool and got off of you to turn to his father with a grin. It took you only seconds for you to contort yourself into a crouch and launch yourself into the back of his legs sending him forward onto his knees. His shock gave you enough time to maneuver both of your palms onto the back of his head and dramatically push his face right down into the sand,

“That is for punching me,”

And Rotxo couldn’t help the pang of jealousy at the fact that your pretty thighs straddle his best friend's back. Or the fact that jealousy grew into a painful lump in his throat when Ao’nungs arm hooks behind him to support your frame as he almost barrel rolls half onto his back to pin your thigh under his body and halt your assault with a laugh.

All your family and friends are laughing at the two of you, and your mothers coo as they watch you wipe sand off of Ao’nungs face. Rotxo couldn’t stop the bitter resentment that bubbled in his chest at the sight. He hated feeling this way. He hated the way you made him feel not quite like himself.

Which is why he does his very best at keeping it hidden. Not that it’s hard for him to forget the resentment he feels for you the second you give him your attention. Even only hours after the disgusting display of affection with his best friend. When you kindly ask him to accompany you on a walk he can’t even think about how upset he had been. Even now while your chiding voice disrupts the peacefulness of your walk and the beauty of the light beginning to set over the reef.

“You’re mad because I will not spar with you?”

He cuts off your words. The duck of the young warrior's head, so he could speak to you face to face as you walked down the beach only insults you more. Had he been on the side closest to the soft waves you’d have no doubt shoved him onto his ass into the assaulting water. Obviously that is what you were angry about-

“Is it because I cheat when I fight Ao’nung? If he is so stupid as to keep turning his back on me after all this time then he is at fault,”

You sound genuinely confused as you try desperately to make sense of why Rotxo would rough house with Lo’ak or Neteyam and even Kiri but not you. It’s funny how conceited you sound even as you’re practically bouncing next to him and pestering him like a bug. Rotxo knew a little better than most though regarding the inner workings of your mind. It wasn’t that you were conceited- you were just stupidly confident. He didn’t doubt, however, that one way or another your small frame would beat him simply because he knew you wouldn’t dare give up until you did.

“Besides the fact that I vividly remember when you bit Tinangey in the cheek,” Rotxo try’s to defend his unwillingness to hit you with an annunciation to his story by holding two of his second knuckles to the apex of your cobalt cheek. Long, thick fingers curled against your glowy skin. The same place you had bitten the longed-haired, round-faced, barely tolerable boy all those years ago when you fought. Though in your defense Ao’nung and the group of boys had started a very real fight, and you had only followed in your brother's shadow of retribution.

“And I happen to hit much harder than Ao’nung does,” he adds.

For a second, Rotxo feels like he exudes your same confidence. It’s not an unwarranted comment, however. Ao’nung was less than a head taller than him, but Rotxo had grown into quite an impressive specimen. Wide and as immovable as the waves that crashed outside of the reef you do not venture past. That was more than half the reason why you wanted to spar with the Talioang of a man so terribly.

“You are no fun,”

He can’t help but frown at your words. He knows you aren’t serious- would you spend as much time with him if you did not find entertainment in him? The same insecurity that causes resentment to bubble in his stomach rears its ugly head once more. For a second he feels like he could believe that you had been aware of how he felt and that you used him for validation.

“You should be more thankful to me,” he chides, baring his fangs slightly in a half grinned snarl, “that I refuse to knock any more brain cells out of you,”

You complain he doesn’t horseplay with you the way the others do, but at this moment he organically wraps one palm around the back of your head to pull you into him slightly, so he could cruelly rub his knuckles against the crown of your head.

Because he does roughhouse with you. Rotxo always played with you. Was always there to entertain you because the idea of other men wrapping their hands around the pliable flesh of your flowing form made the ugliest parts of him surface. If it wasn’t Rotxo entertaining you it was your siblings or his best friend. As he had not made any formal claim towards you out of his nerves, unfortunately, had to tolerate it regarding his future Olo'eyktan.

You’re just a terrible little cretin that found delight in the chaos you left in your wake. It’s why you, Lo’ak, and Kiri get into so much trouble. It’s why you poked at Ao’nung. He can swear there’s a part of you that does it just to cause strife in his heart.

He can’t be bothered with pondering over the legitimacy of his accusation partially out of fear that he’s projecting, and perhaps you are just like Ao’nung. Though mostly it’s because of course you are swatting your delicate little hand at him and grumbling about how you’re smarter than him and that he was the stupid one to think otherwise.

It’s endearing how you walk backward as the two of you playfully bicker and fight. Though like always- Rotxo is catching your intended slaps and redirecting your arms to swoop past him. Sometimes even grabbing at your forearms so you can’t help but be pulled around haphazardly by him.

“You are so fucking annoying,”

Your shriek comes as Rotxo almost effortlessly maneuvered you to spin forward and walk ahead of him, while he pinned your arms across your chest. You both stumble over each other's feet as you can’t help but laugh over the fact that he’s made your arms an effective straight jacket. You wiggle and writhe and it halts his walking while you try to dig your heel into the top of his foot. It only results in one of your wrists being let go of and you being spun around like a toy by him.

He had half let you stumble while he used the momentum of your arms to spin you, but he was quick to grab hold of your other wrist, propping you right up.

You were out of breath from the game but you were thankful for the view he presented you with. The violets and oranges of sunset suited the aquamarine of his skin. Dancing between the intricate tidal markings on his body, and forcing your eyes to dance across the defined arms, chest, and neck that were covered in bold black lines. You feel a little silly, being so flustered before him with your whole face purpled. You can help it because he looks pretty at the moment. Absolutely beautiful like always. Like no one you had ever seen before.

Rotxo is quick to heave you up in the air and shake you around. Ruining the view that had just begun to calm you down. Riling you into hysteric laughter while playing with you as if you weighed nothing. You shake in his arms and toss your body around like a mad-woman and you’re cackling just like one.

When he begins to feel merciful you land on your feet, with his arms still pining your hands and arms against your ribs that are rapidly rising and falling. With the welcomed breaths you instantly go back to chastising him.

“That is not sparring, fish-boy! You were just being an imbecile.”

You’re snapping an arm fee so you can poke him in the chest. He can’t help but roll his eyes at your attempt and take your hand to lightly ‘smack’ your face with it.

“You are ridiculous,”

He tried to emphasize his words with a similar assault by your other hand but you offered resistance,

“If you just took me seriously I-“ you’re cut off as you struggle to keep him from playfully making you hit yourself. Thrashing your head around wildly. And he’s just laughing above you because he thinks it’s stupid that you assume he just thinks you can’t fight and that’s why he won’t spar with you. For Eywas sake he watches you win regularly.

It’s like you could read his mind without tsaheylu and the mention of your victories emboldened you. He hadn’t even noticed your leg raise to wrap around his locked knee leisurely supporting his weight while he tormented you.

He had buckled backward under the weight of his massive frame embarrassingly quickly. You had expected him to let go of your wrists as he fell, but he did not. Opting to drag you down into the sand with him.

He tries to control the mauve that dances across his skin but this is the reason he didn’t spar with you. He can tell himself it’s because he hates seeing you get hit, and that his heart breaks and chokes him any time he thinks about striking you even in that situation.

He knows however, it’s because he can’t be this close to you. He can already feel his ears perking up towards you and his eyes relaxing while he stares up at you. How pretty. Your sapphire skin was dazzling under the cool violets and dwindling oranges of an almost completely set sun. The stars had even begun to twinkle behind you between the other shining moons.

“You are the worst,” your pants finally die down, to match your soft glare,

“Is that so?” His cheeks dimple as he grins wildly up at you as you adjust to straddle his chest more comfortably.

“Yes. I swing at you and you don’t even try to hit me back.”

And there’s another attitude laced plop to his chest. More follow as you use said pops to enunciate your following words,

“You just toss me around like I am useless and cannot fight! You know I can. Yet you only fight my brothers, how are you meant to get better if you don’t-“

He stops listening to your scoldings. He doesn’t care what you’re saying when his heart beats against your inner thighs. When he can feel the pudge of your hips practically pooling on him begging for him to grab at it. Why couldn’t you connect the dots? Why were you so stupid? He can’t help but laugh at you, there’s even a bit of a bitter snide behind it. Even though he thinks it’s endearing how badly you wanted to prove yourself to him. He cuts you off abruptly,

“Go and fight with Ao’nung,”

And it’s got your pretty siren eyes widening at his words.

“What does he have to do with anything,”

The sight of his sea-foam eyes rolling into the back of his head has your snarl fixed down at him,

“Can’t step on the Olo'eyktan’s toes can I? Huh?”

He has an expression you’ve never seen cross his face before. Not on Rotxo’s. Not the sweet boy who you had spent so much time with,

“What are you talking about, Ro?”

Ro. You dare call him Ro at a time like this. It makes him sit up on in elbow, grabbing at the top of your now elevated thigh,

“What do you mean what am I talking about? Why do you need to spar with me when you can practice with him? Unless it’s just some weird mating thing you guys have going on-”

He’s never seen your face screw up quite like it is now. Red-faced at his accusation not out of embarrassment but out of anger. Angry that he’d made such a brazen accusation. The first outbreak from Rotxo leaves you stumbling over how to answer him, and you notice he looks hurt at your stunned silence.

“Yeah, ‘course that’s what it is. You make it quite obvious-“ and you feel him start to move under you- probably to get up and apologize and tell you you had to walk back to the village now because even with the hurt salted embarrassment he feels now he’d never leave you to walk back alone. Never let you be in danger. You know that and it makes you more upset,

“Don’t tell me what I do and don’t make it obvious. I am not your fucking ilu- you do not know what I’m thinking.”

Your left hand reaches for the wrist of the hand that holds your thigh while your right pointer and middle fingers aim down at him accusingly.

“So you have no interest in him?”

Rotxo is speaking faster than usual. A trait you had noticed followed Rotxo anytime he was too hyped up. He was the softest boy you had ever known yet the gentle buzz of adrenaline that leaked out of his too-quick breaths reminded you that he was in fact a Metkayina warrior.

“Mhmm,”

You’re honestly surprised it has taken you this long to notice the mutual affection he had harbored for you. Blinded by your insecurities, the sight of him frantic over the idea of your affection belonging to someone else made you squirm.

“I suppose he would be a fine mate now that you mention it-” and you smile down at him, hoping he knows you’re kidding. That you just don’t know how to talk about your feelings “considering no one else seems to be all that interested in me,”

And you feel him go ridged under you, round eyes fixated on your own. You think he’s annoyed a little bit, staring dumbfounded at you. But you feel his fingers dig into the meat of your thigh.

“Was this your plan? Torment me into doing what you want?”

You don’t know if it’s the chill of the eclipses sea breeze or the fact that Rotxo’s voice was as modulated, deep, and mesmerizing as always, yet his face held the same intense stare that the Metkayina warriors were renowned for. You’re embarrassed at the way you twitch as he props both hands on your thighs and adjusts himself back into laying straight back.

“Nu-uh, but is it working?” And you're purring above him, flicking your tail across his stomach. It only added to the overstimulated feeling throbbing at the front of Rotxo’s skull. An uncomfortable pendulum swinging him between ecstasy at the sight of your pretty form sat on his chest and misery over the fact that he still couldn’t shake the insecurity that you were toying with him.

“No-“ He curses a crack in his voice with a swallow, “I will just stay tormented,”

His hands are warm as they paw at the top of your thighs. He can’t help but feel like he’s on fire at your position, at least the sand was starting to cool in the dark. It helped keep him from sweating below you even as he pants at the sight above him. Your knees are pushed under his arms and nestled against his ribs and he worries you can feel his heart pounding. You made the air hang hot around his head.

You’re nervous at how intense his dusk sullen aqua eyes maintain their contact with you but he doesn’t have a choice- if you scooted up less than a foot you’d be sat right on his face- there’s nothing he’s ever wanted more.

“Lost in thought?”

He cringes at your voice. Not knowing how you always get him like this. How you always have the high ground. He doesn’t know why he’s honest with you,

“I do not want you to fight with Ao’nung like that anymore.”

And you grin at him and place your palm on his cheek,

“Is that so? That means you will spar with me now?”

He couldn’t wrap his head around your obsession with being hurt? Did you pester everyone to fight with you like this? The thought makes his body move on reflex, craning his neck enough to open his mouth wide and comp down onto the exposed skin of your thigh. You bounce on his chest, pulling at his hair back with a whine in response.

“If you are jealous you can just say so you do not have to bite me, you child.”

He can only smile because it’s his hair you’re yanking at. You’re sitting on him and-

“I’m not jealous. Not in this moment anyways,”

One of his hands slides up your hunched forward torso, and he’s pulling you down by the woven fabric of your top. You’re not sure if he’s pulling you down to kiss him. You figure with the state of things though a kiss wasn’t an unwelcome advance, and you’re not surprised when his head lifts to kiss you back.

It’s better than any silly fantasy you had ever let yourself drift into because he’s warm and real and he’s kissing you like you’re fragile because he wants you to feel safe enough to be fragile. He wouldn’t have wasted so much time becoming a competent warrior if it wasn’t to keep you safe.

“How could you think I’d want to share a brain with Ao’nung huh? I’d kill myself.” you smile against his lips, “as if I’d ever want him over you,”

And he knows you’re not lying to him as the fluff of your tail tickles against a throbbing vein in his lower stomach. How could you be lying when you’re hunched over uncomfortably while you straddle him just so you could purr into a kiss? His big hands cradling your cheeks makes you ignore the ache in your spine, and you thank Eywa he’s so big as to add ease to the position.

By some stroke of luck, his hand travels down your spine as if to soothe the ache while your tongues swirled against each other. Despite the trembling ache that plagued your lower stomach at the endearing turn of events, Rotxo kisses you, softly. As if you’re not dying for him. Even though you straddle him his chest and move against him to relieve the pressure he inflicts on you. You’re very obviously making out with him. Willingly letting his mouth explore yours at his own pace. You can’t help but slide down his torso so you could lay on top of him properly.

You couldn’t get over how wide you still had to spread your legs to straddle his waist. Even though you laid over him caging his body under yours he engulfed you. You need to breathe far earlier than he does, and he finds it cute how you huff against his lips to catch your breath.

“You’re not going to let Ao’nung touch you anymore, ya?”

And he can’t help the dopey pitch of his voice as he catches your lips in a quick kiss. Not when you’re beaming down at him.

“Only if you touch me instead,”

You sound so coy considering you’re giggling above him. And when you enunciate your words with another kiss he can’t help the obnoxious chortle that leaves his lips- that’s until you bite at his bottom lip slightly,

“You are too bossy,”

But he kisses you the way you want him to. Pushing his nose against yours. He doesn’t think he can like anything more until he feels your hips grind against the lower abs of his stomach- that tighten and flex at the feeling of your now twitching core.

The confidence the both of you had mutually worked up to had you lost in your own world. You know it’s unbecoming of you both to be caught in such a situation but you had enough confidence in your privacy and even less confidence in your own self-control to do anything about it.

“Sit on my face,” it comes out as a gaspy whisper between your clanking teeth while you grind against him, “Let me take care of you instead,”

It makes you whimper above him and he swears it’s some sort of nirvana.

“I-I’ve never-” and you are mad at how wet the inside of your mouth is and yet it still offers no solace to the lump in your throat

“No’ gonna make you,”

You’re not sure if the sound of him slurring into your mouth makes you moan or the fact that your tail finds and runs across his erect member behind you.

“Obviously want you to,” and his palm is on your cheek, “wanted you on my mouth since you plopped down on me,”

He’s kissing you between his words and you know he means it. You can hear it in his voice. He just about died of excitement when he felt you propping yourself up on your knees.

Now that you’re back up he can admire your pretty body once again. He thinks this is the first time he’s ever seen you not take the lead. It made him blush- realizing how shy you had suddenly become. He’s gentle when he reaches for your thigh again, sliding up until his fingers reach the fabric of your tweng,

“Can I?”

You wondered how the sun would rise in the morning when it was trapped in his smile. Looking up at you as if you were Eywa herself. How could he possibly think you don’t want him to untie it?

You don’t know how to say yes without embarrassing yourself, so you do what any rational woman would do when the love of their life was laid between their legs. You reach up to the fabric tie of your beaded top, and let it fall from your body, plopping down in the sand next to you.

You can’t ignore the throb that plagues you at the widening of his eyes, how they instantly drop to your breasts. The only cover from his eyes are the few strands of hair.

You’re almost shocked at his fumbling fingers. Too excited to uncover you and too large for the delicate fabric, yet like all things that required a gentle hand- Rotxo succeeded at his task quickly. Obediently you let his palms guide your hips up. He is rewarded with one more sway of your tail over his quickly hardening length as tosses your bottoms in the opposite direction of your top.

You're breathing heavily when he cranes his neck to look at your most intimate flesh,

“Oh, Eywa,”

He can feel himself leaking all over his stomach at the sight of your bare cunt against his torso, and the warm feeling of you dripping could drive him to madness.

“C’mere, give me you.”

You listen of course. He feels bad that he likes you best like this. Tentatively crawling up his large chest to place your legs on the side of his head.

He doesn’t feel bad for enjoying the view of you hovering above his face. He can’t believe he had done this. He can’t believe you’re swollen, sticky, and wet for him.

His hands are wrapping around the fat of your thighs to pull you into open-mouthed kisses against your thighs. You’re mad it feels so good- he’s not even touched you and yet your thighs twitch where he kisses.

You reward him with a real moan at the quick swipe of his tongue from the bottom of your leaking hole right across your clit. Though he didn’t truly know what he was doing, he knew what he wanted to do. That was enough. You seemed to like what he was doing regardless. He likes kissing you. Feeling the way your lips twitch against his. His tongue finds a comfortable rhythm exploring your folds. You tasted like nothing he had ever eaten before. He couldn’t compare you to anything else- and there wasn’t a thing in Pandora he’d rather in his mouth.

Though you're panting and wiggling your hips in front of his face he still wants to give you more. Wants to wrap his arms around your thighs and take care of you the way you should be taken care of. He doesn’t know why he has such a need to take care of you, especially since you had caused him so much grief. He knows you’re more than willing and capable of handling him mating you without any of this - but he can’t help it. He wants to spoon-feed the world to you; do everything for you. Even if it means doing all the work to get that pretty pussy of yours to cum in his mouth.

His desire to take care of you is probably why one of his big hands finds your hips. Why it slides across your smooth skin and his thumb hooks under your tail to push you down and forward onto his wanting mouth.

“I said sit-” he speaks into your cunt, the vibrations of his voice making you clench your stomach.

He can feel his dick jump at the way you cry at the feeling of him grinding your sensitive pussy against his wanting mouth, legs clamping down against his blood-rushed ears. When he finally slides his tongue into your twitching hole again he can’t help but reach down to squeeze at the base of his throbbing dick. Just for a second, he could pretend you were clamping down on his cock and not his rapidly exploring tongue. You’re too busy following along with the motion Rotxo’s hand around your tail provides for you to notice what he’s doing, however. When you’re so blissed out that you lean back to brace your hands onto his chest he can’t help but take in the sight of your thrown-back head. Your hair was behind you now and he could watch the night sky illuminate the swell of your breasts. He can’t be bothered to feel bad at watching you so vulnerable and unaware when he’s the one to cause it.

With the added space of you leaning off of him slightly, he was able to drag his face across your leaking cunt as if he were a starved animal ripping into a meal.

You feel dirty- for the way your head quickly snaps forwards to watch the way he shakes his head back and forth between your legs. There’s no hiding the mess below you at this point. The twinkling night does little to hide the slick connecting you to him. And you feel yourself leak even worse when his relaxed eyes blink open and he catches you staring at him. When he slows his movements to take in the look on your face.

“Ro- don’t- Rotxo-“

Embarrassment is evident in your voice despite the fact he feels like his face is burning brighter than yours. He can’t seem to wrap his head around the fact that you’re sitting on his face, you’re letting him eat you out.

He wraps his lips around his new favorite part of your body, sucking the nerve into his mouth with a cruel pop. Kissing it after you cry out,

“You feelin' good?”

His words are soft, as you feel his thumb caress the underside of your tail. You only try to sit back down on his face with a wiggle of your hips. Rotxo has finally found a happy middle ground where he felt confident with you, however. Gripping your tail tighter to keep your greedy cunt off of his face.

“Answer me,”

And with his words comes a gentle graze of his sharp teeth against the pulsating sticky skin of your clit. He’s never heard you make the noise that responds to his assault. A cry or a hiss he wouldn’t know- but it was his new favorite sound. He’s only licking you- it’s only at the work of his tongue that your legs are shaking so prettily on his cheeks.

“Yes- yes you know I am-“ You start, “can you keep going now?”

It’s the fake polite voice you use that makes him scoff. He finds it endearing how badly you try to grind yourself against him in the same rhythm he had previously helped you with. But with his grip on your tail, and the punishingly slow strokes of his tongue against your slit you stayed bubbling on the edge. You’ve never been so pliable for anyone before, he thinks. He’s never seen you so whiney over anything.

“Rotxo please!”

Your please is a little too mean. It wasn’t you asking him to make you feel good. You were being bossy and rude. Red face screwed up in frustration as if you had still been scolding him for the fact he wouldn’t hit you. Maybe it’s why his other hand leaves your hip for a second to swat at the fat of your ass.

Between you sidling forward onto his face, and the fact that your pretty little tail wagged across his painfully hardened cock he couldn’t help but moan right into you.

The guttural moan of his deep voice sends a shock wave up your body that has one hand digging into the sand next to his head and the other hand pulling at the mess of curls on top of his head. Maybe he understood your annoyance at his stubborn desire to hold back before. Because right now you are doing the same.

All he wanted was for you to cum. So one hand returned to your pretty tail to help you grind your clit against his face. It was cute how you tensed at the feeling of the tip of his fingers that had risen up against the hole that so willingly leaked all over him. You don’t even give him a chance to ask if you’re okay with it before you sink back into his fingers, ruining the kiss Rotxo had just begun assaulting your clit with.

The sight of spit connecting his swollen lips to your cunt, and the feeling of one of his finger reaching deeper in you than you had ever been able to touch makes you tremble above him. He’s rocking you against his face while he begins an almost punishing assault on your hole.

In his defense, he wasn’t truly aware of how punishing the pace was. The only thing he was focused on was the steady ripple of your ass against his knuckles. So blissfully unaware of how much louder your voice had gotten. The wet sound he was greeted with as he slid a second finger inside you only spurred the speed of his hand more.

“I- I… Ro I feel-”

And he feels the tip of your tail softly lay across his aching cock as though to anchor yourself as you arch forward into his face, thighs trembling. He moans at the ache of his scalp as you pull him into you and he can’t help but open his eyes wide.

Eywa is Rotxo glad he did. He knows he’s going to remember this for the rest of his life- the view of your pretty legs choking him in a vice grip and pussy clenching up on his fingers while you practically scream. You don’t listen to yourself though, not when you’re preoccupied with the sound of him slurping against you. As if he’s never enjoyed something more- and he’s smiling against you as he alternates, scraping his teeth against you, and sloppily kissing you though your orgasm. All while his fingers still slowly curl inside of you.

You feel like you should be embarrassed, panting above him- trying to force oxygen into your deprived lungs and brain. He doesn’t make you feel awkward though. Not even for a second. Not while he’s petting your thigh and smiling up at you between his movements.

“You’re alright?”

The hum of his voice was questioning. You couldn’t help that part of you felt as though he was telling you that you were alright though. Maybe that’s why you felt so at ease.

“Better than alright,”

Your coquettish grin has him pawing at your thighs to scoot you back down off of him. Even though he’s never enjoyed doing something more than taking care of you, the feeling of your tail twitching against the tip of his throbbing cock had raised an unfamiliar pain in his stomach. Besides, the sinful sounds you had been making for him; the pretty dazed face had coaxed you into had made him confident enough to not want to be under you any longer.

You instinctually wrap your arms around his neck as you feel him begin to sit himself up. One arm wrapped tightly under your ass (giving himself the luxury of wrapping one of his meaty palms around the meatier fat of your ass) to keep you from sliding down into his lap until he had sat up completely, and could position you comfortably.

You can’t help but smile at how disheveled he looks. His hair is all askew from you yanking at it and his face is completely blushed and wet from all the effort. The way the corners of his lips twitch into a smile by the time your bare slit makes contact with him is almost mischievous in a way. As if he was expecting the gasp that falls from your lips as he drags you down across the tweng that painfully constricts the parts of him that hadn’t hardened out of it. It finally relieves some of the pressure knotting at the pit of his stomach. You could never wrap your mind around how sitting on his lap could be so calming yet intimidating. You can’t help but reach for the sand covered curls at the back of his head pulling desperately to fill the gap the height difference caused. Wanting nothing more than for him to bless you with another kiss.

Of course, he obliges. He doesn’t think he could ever deny you a single thing now. Not when you’re grinding down onto him while kissing him. Dragging the fabric across the both of you, and Eywa when you run your tongue across his lips with a giggle he has to stop himself from cumming between the both of you.

Feeling the way his tip leaks against your belly button has your heart beating so impossibly fast that the rattling it causes in your rib cage hurts.

“We do not have to do anything else,”

He doesn’t want to remind you. He really does not. He wants nothing more than to sink you down onto him- but he doesn’t want you to feel pressured. To feel unsafe. If you had never touched him again he’d have lived happily with this moment like gold in his memory. He thanks Eywa however, when you whine at the insinuation, thread your fingers around his kuru, and your pretty snarl makes contact with his own teeth.

“Don’t make me go and find Ao’nu-”

You don’t even finish your hiss before he swats at your ass again, appreciating the way your skin recoils, and thighs tremble at his sides and for you to yelp into him. How dare you say his name with your hand where it was? Has he been too nice to you these years? Too gentle with you?

“Watch it,”

You had heard Rotxo growl before. Never at you- but you had seen what he was capable of when he did get aggressive with people. Yes, he was a sweet and gentle boy- but he was also rowdy, brawling, and all too bellicose. But because he was normally so saccharine to you, you had forgotten all about the rest of Rotxo. Big, honorable, and strong Rotxo who you had seen slam down elder warriors with years of experience on him like they were weightless. Those same muscular, intricately tattooed arms were now using the fat of your hips and ass to grind you down against him. As if to make up for the cruelty of your words your other hand reaches down, and though you had frustrated him he can’t help but buck his hips into you at the feeling of your hand sliding down the hood of his cock so you could run a thumb across his exposed tip.

“I want you. I thought I was being pretty obvious. Reya makes fun of me for it.”

You don’t know why you whisper to him, you don’t think you had ever been as soft-spoken before.

“I am just stupid-”

And his frustrations leave him at the feeling of your hands loosening around both his hand and kuru. He can’t help but slide his face against yours, slotting his nose against yours. He breaths against your face once before he speaks,

“You are not a stupid girl,” and there’s a kiss placed on your cheek under your eye as one palm raises to cradle the opposite one, “you are at least smart enough to undo a knot, yeah?”

He keeps his usual warm and syrupy baritone voice, yet there’s a condescending undertone to his voice that shoots straight down to your core. It makes your ears flatten against your head, and your eyes widen. He was almost bitter that all it took to intimidate you was to imply he wanted to impale you on his cock. Why did he waste all this time becoming such a revered deep-sea diver and warrior?

“Or are you, pretty girl?”

There’s more jest in his voice; his heart swelling at how cute you were when you weren’t being a menace. So cute in fact that he can’t help but kiss the crown of your head as he watches both of your hands reach down to untie his tweng. He supposes he could have just yanked it down, but he can’t help the rush that flows through him at the sight of you doing it. He swears he’ll ride this high for months- felt like he could fight a nalutsa all by himself.

That’s until he sees you sit up on his knees and realize what you’re going to do- what you want to do. It finally sinks in for him. You want him. Your fingers are on his kuru, your cums on his face- you chose him. Suddenly the sea breeze isn’t enough to keep him from overheating. He’s too aware of the sound of the waves and the sand that covers his back and hair and the fact that-

“Sayrìp,”

His eyes instantly leave your swollen pussy and raise to your face, locking with your eyes obediently. You smile up at him and he’s sure his pupils are as wide as yours.

“Are you okay?”

How can he not be okay when you're kissing his mandible? Teeth teasing against the pulse you’ve risen should drive him to dizzying madness but only acts to ground him back into reality,

“Jus’ cannot believe you’re here with me.”

It gives him a chance to swallow the lump in his throat,

“Who else would I be with, skxawng?”

And you're grasping at the base of him to hold his heavy leaning cock steady; he whines at the sight of your spit drooling past your pretty lips and hisses at the feeling of it plopping against him. He supposes you could use all the help you could get if you hoped to take him.

As you slide the girthy blunt tip against your slit he rewards you with a moan. A deep sound that reverberates against his chest. It makes you all too eager to try and sink down onto the tip.

But Rotxo’s arms are stronger than you and he doesn't want you to do that, so he uses that strength against you. Despite being so giving and nice on the regular, rolling over and letting you boss him around and do what you wanted he was going to mate you the way he wanted to, and you were going to take it.

When the jolt of his hands moving to hold your hips in place makes your pussy flutter against his tip he has to remind himself of that before he loses all of his resolve and pushes you down onto his length in one swift movement. The thought made him cringe. He didn’t waste all this time opening you up for him just to hurt you,

“You going to let me mate you, tsyeym?” He asks

If you think you could roll your eyes without invoking the hunter's wrath you would have. He was acting as though you hadn’t been pulling and tugging on his prettily kept braid since you had first felt his imposing length against you.

“I am not above begging,”

Though you’re chuckling softly in his ear your fingers are dancing down his kuru, and when your finally twirl the ends of his hair covering his tswin around your slender fingers he can’t help but slide just the first couple of inches of him into you. He can’t tell if he feels your fingers caressing his nerves more or the far too-tight ring of your pussy sucking him into you.

“Ma’Rotxo-”

Your free hand braces yourself down on his bicep, digging your fingernails into his flesh as if you’re the one overstimulated.

“Thought you were tough, huh?” He chides, “Wanna fight with me but can’t even take me bullyin’ my cock into ya, huh?”

If you were mean you would have tugged on his braid, giving him a semblance of the perineum sting you felt at the girth of him-

“Don’t be an asshole to me, Rotxo.”

You’re trying to be bossy still and it doesn’t suit the fact that your body feels so pliable in his hands. He doesn’t even dignify you with an answer, not when he wants you to be flush against his hips. Not when he wanted you to feel as much of him as you could before he made you feel even more. He feels a little bad that you’re so small in comparison to the Metkayina people. Though an embarrassing part of him loves the idea of spending the rest of his life drilling into your warmth until you’re molded to him he worries about how sore you’d be in the morning. He promises himself that he’d be extra kind to you tomorrow- tend to anything you could want. He will take care of you as a thank you for the way you were about to let him use you.

You couldn’t think of a time when Rotxo hadn’t taken care of you- this felt no different. So when you feel one of his hands caress you on the mission to reach around your body and pull you apart further so that more of him could slide inside all you do is huff and give into his guidance.

“Look at you,”

He sounds winded at the feeling of you clenching against him. You’re surprised he enters as easily as he does. Surprised the pressure doesn’t hurt as bad as you feared it would. Especially when one of his thumbs moves over your clit in soft quick motions,

“Just gotta relax a lil’ more.”

His eyes are fixed down; watching you take him inside of you. He doesn’t even care anymore that the end of his braid is held in your soft hand. He ignores the uncomfortable throb that shoots through it. He only has to endure seconds more of it before he’s rewarded with the slippery plap of your hips meeting. He feels bigger than ever when your hands leave their respected body parts to grab at his cheeks. He’s sure you meant to kiss him but you only managed to moan against his open mouth.

“That’s my girl,” he kisses you, “Took it all so good.” another kiss,

“Fucking Metkayina- too big,” Of course, you’re grumbling right now. Of course, you have a grumpy little voice even when he’s in your guts.

“You are rude,” one of his arms wrapped around you and pulled you flush against him, partially to appreciate your warmth but mostly so he could reach around and grab your own braid.

“Shouldn’t even touch this now, huh?”

His soft eyes give him away, and he knows you know him too well. You know that once you pull his braid over his shoulder that he’d rush to bring yours closer.

You were right of course, he’s quick to hold the bioluminescence of your tswin’s tendrils painfully close to his own. There’s something that makes your stomach tighten painfully at the sight. There was something so exciting about the fact that you were so close to being with him- all you had to do was dip your hand forward. The thought has you rolling your hips down against him to alleviate the throb of your clitoris. It’s all he needs before his other hand leaves your hip to grab your wrist that holds his tswin.

“Look at me,”

You’re so good for him. So obedient when your eyes instantly snap from where your hands almost make you one- to his eyes. He thinks you’re so beautiful. Sultry and warm and so undeniably wild. So easily he gives into the magnetic force that’s been trying to convince him to pull your tswin into his.

He thinks his heart stops at the way your eyes haze over and you melt into him. The way you practically purr as he feels his lap grow wetter. Now you were all of those things- but you were also his.

“Oh, Eywa,”

He feels bad for how roughly his one arm pulls you into him, he feels how much fuller it makes you feel but he has to feel your heartbeat against him. He thinks this is bliss- that he can’t get anything better than this. Then you begin scooting your hips back and forth against his. His hands are too quick to reach for your hair, digging his fingers into it.

The pretty way your face screws up as your pace quickens has him star-struck. The echo of your pleasure tickled his lower stomach. He can’t help but lift his hips to meet yours; the slapping sound of skin as you bounced against him is enough to spur him into near madness. Both of your throats are caught- stunned in silence over the sheer amount of feeling tsaheylu adds.

He feels bad because he knows you feel so good going at your own pace and using him to fill yourself to your heart's content. He can’t focus on that guilt when he has such an uncontrolled need to be on top of you. His hands halting your hips have you confused, and you’re only more shocked when he’s heaving you up and tossing the both of you until your back is against the sand and your hips are hiked on his firm thighs.

He doesn’t even give you a second to take in the change, slipping himself all the way into you in one fluid movement, palms returning to the fat of your hips so he could roll and grind down into you. He loves the way you clench as he rolls across your g-spot. The view is beautiful, and the way your hands reach between your thighs and rub your fingers against yourself for him only drives him further into ecstasy.

“So pretty for me,” He loves how easy it is to make you clench and throb. “My pretty mate,”

His eyes are fixed on the way your breasts bounce at the power of his thrusts and the way your stomach bulges. He knows if he focuses on your pretty face he’d be finished the way your wide eyes don’t focus on anything and the dark purple stain of your blush. He’s never quite seen your markings glow so bright. He’d never live down finishing before he even got a chance to fuck you properly- before he could really appreciate the view. So he grabs at your hips and wiggles you side to side in an effort to stimulate you further,

“Let me fuck you for real now baby,” and his hand travels up your legs that are bent against your bodies, straightening one leg over his shoulder so he could kiss your calf. How could you say no when he asks so sweetly while he was so deep inside of you?

“Please? Can you please move again?”

He forgot you could be so polite when you want to be. He’s all smiles, starting at a comfortable pace. His speed picked up quickly as he could use your whole leg as an anchor, but he still stays relatively shallow. Just to give you enough time to adjust before he picks up a punishing pace.

He knows he’s fucking you entirely too loud. He knows the way you moan under him is entirely too loud. He knows the nighttime waves aren’t loud enough to drown out what he’s doing to you but all it does is spur him on. He wishes you’d be louder but he knows you have more dignity than he does.

How can he slow down when you’re telling him he’s so good? You’re gasping as he falls forward onto one hand for more leverage. Still holding your hips up by one leg so he could slam into you. The change of position has you dragging sinfully across him and it almost distracts you from the sound of his grunts. It was magnifying seeing him worked up over you- he wasn’t even in a rut and had desired you so deeply.

“Gon- Shit. Roxto 'm gonna cum,”

The way he reacted to your words is what sends you over the edge. The way he hunches over and begins to slam into you while his eyes bore into yours. The sloppy sound of you cumming all over him and your eyes rolling into you head bring him closer more than the feeling of you clamping down on his cock. He didn’t think you could squeeze tighter and it’s embarrassing how easy you make him cum. Just barely enough time to slip out and shoot himself all over you.

He means to hit your stomach honestly, expecting it to pool where you had been slightly folded. Except he had forgotten how worked up you had gotten him- how badly he had wanted to cum in you. The sheer amount that painted your warm stomach and azure boobs should have embarrassed him but the sight of his cum shooting further and globbing on your chin and lips consumes him. You lay half folded under him, grasping onto him while you panted. Covered in his cum. No one could get near you without knowing you were his.

He can’t help but act on his desires and lean down to cage his big arms around you. Running his tongue up your chin and across your lips. You taste the salt on his lips when he immediately kisses you, and at the bite of his teeth, you’re opening your mouth so he can spit him into your mouth.

It should be raunchy and make you feel like a whore but he does it so softly and kisses you so libidinously that the swirl of his tongue against yours has you both purring into each other's mouth.

You’re perplexed at how quickly he’s back to sweet Rotxo. Kissing you gently and caressing skin that just knew the punishing grip of his strength.

He’s tall when he sits up on his knees, and now that he’s not hunched over rutting into you it truly dawns on you just how much bigger he is than you.

He scoffs as he looks around him and you’re almost confused until you watch him lean over to grab both of your bottoms before he’s grinning down at you and scooping his hands under you.

His cheeks hurt from smiling at the sound of you giggling foolishly at him as he heaves you into the air. You're both red-faced and covered in sweat and sand and he can’t wait to walk into the cooling water with you in his arms.

[fbfh]

tristan dugray with baby fever

STOOOOOOOP PLEASE PLEASE KEEP GOING

no bc we've already established a LOT about Tristin. he's dedicated. obsessivley so, even. once he HAS you he doesn't get jealous in a petty way as much as in a puffing out his chest birds acting eccentric to defend their turf way. when he gets jealous the pda goes in FULL SWING. he is so shameless and has just a little sprinkle winkle of bull energy. so you would think that his baby fever comes from this obsessive lovey dovey I want everyone to look at you and know you're mine place right???????? not quite. like it does but not till later. Tristin's baby fever is soul crushingly gut punchingly triggered by watching you interact with a little kid. Chilton is a k-12 school, so this probably started late in your senior year. there was some little kid who was new and got horribly lost and ended up in the high school building instead of the kindergarten building. you and Tristin saw her hiding behind a bench and you stopped to help her. Tristin stood nearby, watching the way you crouched down and introduced yourself in a gentle voice, the softness of your demenor to not scare her. you told her you get lost all the time, and it's normal for a new school to feel scary until you get used to it. you smooth her hair and tell her chilton is really fun and the other kids are nice. you tell her how great the cafeteria is and how cool the junglegym is at recess. you offer to help her find her kindergarten room, and Tristin watches with wide eyes and changing brain chemistry as you scoop up this adorable little kid wearing a backpack as big as she is and walk over to him.

"This is my friend Tristin. Tristin, this is Lilly. Do you wanna walk with us to the kindergarten building?"

Lilly tries to say hi but hides shyly as you chuckle. Tristin walks with you two all the way across campus as you two show Lilly all the cool statues and portraits, all the old trophys and class photos along the way. Tristin works his magic, charming giggles and smiles out of Lilly as you two turn a terrible first day into a pretty good one. You each hold one of her hands and swing her along as you finally reach the kindergarten building, smiling and giggling right along with her until she's safely dropped off at her kindergarten room. Mrs. Benning, the teacher, thanks both of you profusely. Before you part ways, you give Lilly a hug and high five for good luck. Mrs. Benning sends ahead a note so neither of you get in trouble for missing class, and I swear to god, Tristin does not stop thinking about it for weeks.

Flash forward a couple years, Tristin is almost out of college and ready to step into the marketing department of the family business, just like his parents and grandparents planned. One day he gets a call from his dad, telling him that his cousin Honor's baby shower is coming up soon, giving him the details of when to be there and what to bring, but he kind of stops listening after that. Honor's having a baby? like, his cousin Honor? the one that's not too much older than you and him? he stares at you sitting on the floor in front of a mirror, doing your makeup and wearing one of his shirts with the coffee he made you at your side, and suddenly he can't stop thinking about a little toddler that looks just like the both of you running over and sitting in your lap while you do your makeup. calling you mama, shaking a rattle or whatever toddlers play with, wearing those little pajamas with the feet on them... and now it's all he can think about. he knows his dad and grandpa have had his life planned out for him since before he was born, he always knew the timeline was graduate, marriage, kids, take over the family business and he really never had like... a resentful "I hate my destiny" phase with it. Up until high school he was very much in the "oh that's years away that doesn't have anything to do with me and my life yet" mindset. then he met you. and now, standing in the doorway of your shared bedroom in your shared apartment watching you get ready, Tristin is overcome with desire. he wants you. he wants a life with you, he wants to hear you say that he's the father of your child. he wants an unbreakable, irreversable bond of every possible kind with you. chemical, social, legal, eveything. he wants to cuff you, to lock you in. he wants to sleep at night knowing that your and his babies, toddlers, kids, are sleeping soundly in their cozy rooms right down the hall, that you get to sleep next to your husband Tristin, the father of your children Tristin. he wants to hear people call you Mrs. Dugray, wants to bump up his old man to a grandpa, prove to his dad how a dad should treat his children. he wants to break the godforsaken generation cycle that always seems to come with the generational wealth, and raise your kids to be loved and happy and secure. and in that moment, he speedran through all the stages of baby fever to stage 4 extreme terminal the baby fever is baby fevering kinda baby fever. god help you, the (surprisingly short) span of time between now and when you get pregnant???? he's going to be more insufferable than ever.

I will be writing more about how insufferable and nightmare and evil /pos tristin is with baby fever just not in this ask cause it's getting too long. send me more excuses to talk about this.

[hotpinkstars]

Okay, you asked for a request, and here I am. Because I myself also need requests and ideas for writing Genshin stories and receive exactly ZERO requests *upset sigh* And now the request itself

Reader, who is Childe's sibling or just one of the Harbingers? I love these guys and sometimes I jokingly think that the whole of Taivat hates them, not because they are the military power of Snow, but because they look too stylish and beautiful *cheerful laughter*

Therefore, why not try to write something about the Reader, who, knowing all the activities of Fatui, still loves and supports his sibilings

🍞 anon

-> one of the 11

synopsis -> you're a fatui harbinger, and particularly close to childe. you're like family to the harbinger.

warnings -> mentions of injuries, you're close to la signora in this as well lol

a/n -> hii! this was so cute and aaaaa new anon !!!!! i'm probs going to make an anon list if more people do this but yayyyy my first name anon 😊😊

w/c -> 649

you had a really… odd bond with childe.

he was just your fellow colleague, and the other harbingers + the tsaritsa herself has requested it to stay that way. but yet, the two of you always get sent out to missions together. the one time you two went to fontaine, you goofed off a little too hard. not only did childe want to duel the champion duelist herself, but you broke a few of the many rules furina has set in place and went to meropide. and then later escaped through the pipes together. hm. 

but whenever those moments occur, you treat him like your best friend! you’re close with his whole family, his siblings treat you like you’re part of their family, and his parents always welcome you in with open arms.

whenever childe has to go alone on a mission, you help support his family. with being a harbinger, you never know when your dying breath will be. especially with childe, who loves to play with his life. that stupid delusion, as you’d scold him.

his family doesn’t like your job too much, which is why you both hide it from his siblings. considering the toymaker act he puts on to preserve teucers innocence, you simply just tell him and sometimes tonia that he’s just out to sell his new stock in liyue, or whatever nation he went to for his actual line of work. 

not to mention how supportive the both of you were to each other while grieving over signora. you were also rather close with that woman, and it was a shame that she’d passed on so soon. as heartless as the other harbingers seemed during her funeral, you understood that they all chose to grieve in their own way.

you had to keep a straight face the time you were there, paying your respects to the late la signora. you listened to the others talk about their future plans for the fatui and where work will bring you next, and you said your own fair share of things. 

but as soon you were in the clear, you started crying. you knew fully well you weren’t supposed to care too hard about a woman like her. you didn’t know if any of your other colleagues felt enough emotion to her passing to even think about it. you put your resentment to the shogun in the back of your mind, running up to childe. 

“hey-” he started, cutting himself off when he saw your face. your eyes were puffy and tear-filled, lips bit chapped. “whats wrong?”

“i hated every second of her funeral. everyone seemed so unbothered,” you sniffled, letting the cold air hit your face as you check your surroundings once again. “especially the knave and the jester.”

he nodded, scrunching his eyes closed at the sudden gust of chilled wind. “considering even i feel a little tinge of grief, i doubt they’re not thinking about it. they’re harbingers, but it’s not like they don’t feel emotions.”

you nod as the tears come back. he wraps his arm around your shoulders and lets you cry into his side. you both walk back to his place, where you straighten yourself up before you walk through the door, greeting his parents with a smile and a hug.

if the time comes for combat and one of you gets hurt, the only goal is to finish the fight and get the other to the nearest infirmary. if its a near fatal injury, then other choices are to be made.

it pisses you off that even though you were asked to keep your business front around all the others or on the job, he still likes to tease and try to make you break your front. you always end up slapping him, drawing attention from the other harbingers (and it always makes them laugh. put him in his place!!!)

[howdoesagrapewrites]

This is my first time requesting lmaoo

A fanfic where reader is trying to break up with pavitr and gayatri because its starting to get toxic but ends up getting kidnapped by both of them or where reader escaped and is trying to ask for help to the police but gayatri’s dad gives her back to them

(I love your yandere pavitr and gayatri ‼️‼️)

𝘽𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙙 𝙗𝙮 𝙬𝙚𝙗𝙨

Cw: kidnapping, emotional abuse, reader x lovesick!Pavitr Prabhakar x lovesick!Gayatri Singh, police corruption, suicidal thoughts, stockholm syndrome, gaslighting

The last weeks, or had a month passed already? Perhaps many months, but anyway, lately, things felt like a fever dream, one day you came back to your shared apartment to an argument, and next thing you know, you're being chased through the city and being forbidden from leaving your home.

Gayatri had missed work ever since that day, refusing to leave your side, you heard her over the phone saying she was taking care of a mentally unbalanced loved one, you were so mad, but god knows you don't have the strength to have any more "arguments" with any of them, you learned it doesn't do anything, at the end they'll always get the final word, you wonder if they actually believe you're the one that's "mentally unbalanced" and not them, you feel humiliated thinking about it, that they suffer as if you were the one that needed help, as if they were the victims.

No matter how much time went on, hating them, resenting them was never easy. You look into their faces, love filled expressions, and you remember all the times you felt like the luckiest person alive knowing they adored you even more than you could imagine. You remember the movie nights, the dates, the anniversaries, the cheesy nicknames and goofy antics you were up to, sneaking into Gayatri's room when you were in highschool, holding Pavitr's shoulders tightly as he swinged through the city with you in his arms, it always felt like a fairy tale, but now even more so, and not in a good way, not in the nice way.

You couldn't say one of them was "the worse one", they both had their ups and downs, they both made you suffer in their own way, Pavitr simply wouldn't let you go if you did something "bad" (like yelling at them, insulting them, insisting that you broke up with them, so you're not their partner anymore, breaking stuff, refusing to eat, the list goes on) he'd cling to you so hard he was suffocating you, all his body weight pressed into you, keeping you against the floor or the matress, and no matter how much you screamed, cried, kicked or insulted him, he won't let you go, sometimes he cried with you and tried to apologize, telling you he doesn't deserve you, but he simply can't leave you, other times he'd shush you and kiss your face and neck, even if you injured him or tried to bite him, and he'd whisper sweet nothings and "it's okay", "I know you don't mean that", "just calm down, everything is okay, no one will hurt you" but they will. And it worked many times, you'd try to forget reality and imagine you were back at your loving boyfriend's embrace, it was just a bad dream, and the would never hurt you the way they were doing just before. Sadly, you always woke up. Regularly you fantasized about dying like this, in their arms, with Gayatri singing lullabies and pecking your lips softly, and Pavitr cuddling you as the little spoon, you wouldn't have to cry ever again, just disappear into their warmth.

But you still had some self-preservation instinct left in you, and as much as you loved them, you had goals, and a life ahead of you, you still had the chance to escape from this living hell, from this cushion filled prison cell.

It took them months to trust you near the door, even if they already changed all the locks and had multiple other latches and protections so you wouldn't escape, it took you months to play nice and docile so they wouldn't suspect your real intentions, and you hated how comfortable you felt being their yes guy, natural it felt to say "I love you" and let yourself be pampered and rewarded for your good behavior, how much you enjoyed the feeling of Gayatri's velvet tongue in yours, while she lazily stroker your lower back, how playful bites and deep kisses in the morning made you submit completely to Pavitr, how much you loved cooking for them while they cuddled in the couch and told to hurry so you could join them. It was all part of your plan, right? And you couldn't possibly want to stay, right? .

"where are you going?" Pav asked in a sleepy voice

"to the bathroom, I'll be back, love" he didn't question further and rolled in the bed to go back to sleep

You walked in your tippy toes, carefully making your way to the bathroom, you close the door and lock it. You look at yourself in the mirror and realize how different your face looks from some time ago, where there was dark circles and break outs from the stress, now there's a considerably healthier complexion, smooth and soft lips instead of chapped and bitten, and no signs of puffy eyes due to excessive crying, you looked like you did before, but no matter if your skin agreed with your way of life, you wouldn't, you won't let these two monsters take your life away.

You stand over the toilet, and go out of the window, it's a third floor, you might not make it. You wanted to leave some sort of cushioning, but Pavitr would've seen it, so you close your eyes and let go, hoping to land in a way that won't leave you agonizing in the street. Before you touch the ground, you grab the edge of the window of the downstairs apartment, your nails hurt and you close your fists with all your strength so you don't fall, you look at the ground and notice now there's not much distance, you jump. It's painful, but you can go on.

You have money in the jacket you put on under your pajamas, enough to buy a ticket far away from Mumbattan.

You walk the streets to go to the train station, you look at the restaurants you used to go, the bus stop where you had to hide from the rain with Gayatri in middle school, you caught a cold and went in bed for a week, the stores you used to go with your friends back when you had them, the park, where Pavitr adopted a duck and you went to visit them so they wouldn't forget about him (in his words), the flower shop where the old lady would always tell on your partners and inform you they had something planned. All of the memories replaying in your mind, becoming one with the starry night, and fusing with eachother like a messed up watercolor paint, where did things went wrong? Did you ever made such a mistake that would trigger this? If it were your fault, you'd do anything to remedy this, anything to get your love, your life back, and even after all they put you through, it's still so hard to say goodbye. You keep remembering as you say farewell to Mumbattan entirely, to your parents, your friends, everyone you know. You look at the rooftops where you star gazed, the police station where Gayatri's dad let you go after you were caught shoplifting in a declaration of rebellion as a 14 year old. You stare, your mistake, you stare, and see captain Singh making eye contact with you, you want to run, but he lifts his hands in the air to show you he doesn't want to hurt you, you try to run but your legs don't respond, he reaches to you, and takes your hands in his.

"Are you okay?" Tears form in your eyes

"I'm- I'm not, I need to run, and I beg of you to act like a police officer helping a civilian who's running from abuse, please" you stutter and know you can't do anything, if you don't say anything, he'd surely take you back to his daughter and son-in-law, but there's the tiny chance he might listen to you

"I'll get you to safety, you can speak to me or with someone at the station when you're ready, I understand what you're going though, I believe you" he believes you, he believes you. You always knew Gayatri's dad to have a soft spot for you, to take care of everyone, to try and save the most helpless creatures, he was a good cop.

He gets you to the station and says he'll get someone to scort you to a shelter, you just sit looking at the floor, shaking and with your cheeks sticky from unwashed tears.

"They were walking disoriented in the streets, I brought them here before they could do anything dangerous" you heard him tell someone, you hear the other voice and you flinch. "Thank you dad, I'm so sorry, we were so worried" it's Gayatri. It's Gayatri. That's who he called, that's the person that will scold you to "safety".

You refuse to look at her when she approaches you.

You scream "I won't go back! It wasn't an impulse! I planned this, I-I have money, I planned this, I swear I'm lucid" you try and grab the cash from your pocket, but it's gone.

"It's okay, you can leave when you calm down, you'll be safe in your home until then" you can't even remember who said that, Gayatri, her dad, Pavitr, a police officer, they all say the same shit, they all think you're crazy.

The way home is a blur, like everything else, it feels like you blinked and now you're in your "home" again.

"You're a fucking monster" you say to Gayatri, poker face, you're not even sure if you have tears left to cry

But she certainly has, she cries, you don't know if it's sadness or frustration, or anger. "I may be a monster, but I'm not a fucking a liar, you think I'm cruel? We're cruel? You're worse. Whatever you have to say to us you can repeat it to the mirror, because we would never do this to you. We would never pretend to love you to leave you behind later, and the worse part of this bullshit you're pulling is that you know we'll forgive you. We never hurt you unless we have to, but you, you seem to enjoy it! To enjoy watching us bleed for you, is that what we need to do for you to stay?!" She stops to breathe "... I don't care what you think of us, but if we're monsters, then you are too, and you need to accept it."

Pavitr creeps behind you, and puts a hand on your chest, feeling your hitched breathing, he coos. "We're all one and the same, Y/N, we're meant to be together, I don't think you lied, I think you know that you love us, even if you're confused right now."

Confused? Confused. Maybe they're right, since you can't even settle what you're confused about.

[bluepotion85]

The Golden Ratio - Chapter 2

(The following story contains male weight gain, food play, BDSM, kidnap, encouragement, and feeder/feedee scenarios. If that's not for you, then go to church or something vanilla dude.

This takes place during and after the events of the One-Piece film GOLD. For a better experience see the film on your local streaming service.

This story is written in collaboration with @bee-wg )

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

Tesoro

For days, he remained on the wall, trying to resist the pheromones in the room. They did their job to keep him aroused through the day, the heat inside him only growing the longer he stayed in the room. 

He tries to hide it, covering himself while he eats or sees his crewmates on the projection. But the excess energy makes him restless, he wriggles against the wall, grunting through the day. He will beg me for help soon, or so I thought. Instead, he uses that extra energy to shout at me while I work.

“You wannabe singer, golden turd, marine puppet, crocodile look alike, gold fetishist!” He shouted.

“Are you this desperate for me to kill you?!” I replied.

He grinned at me between huffs of air.

“Try to kill me then, king of frauds,” 

While he tries to look tough, his body is drenched in the collected sweat of several days, with breath laborious, and his dick remaining semi-hard. He is desperate to make a move; I can tell the sad man doesn't know it’s futile.

“You know, I could kill you, but why waste a good execution here? What about a public execution at 8 pm?”

"..."

“Lunch Time! Now eat your food and shut your mouth.” 

The gold from the wall spits his body, and he tries to dash towards me, but shackles form from the floor, making him fall face-first into the golden floor.

I can’t contain my laugh as he rubs blood off his nose after that fall. “How many times will you try to do that? It's useless to try and oppose me,” I said.

“Screw you,”

“Enough chatter. I have to get back to work. You have a wall to decor, we’re both busy,”

I set the projection with his friends, and he sits on the floor to eat his food. While we watched his friends fight to make me richer, I sensed his eyes filled with rage staring at me. They are exquisite, the vitriol, the resentment, the desire for vengeance all boiling. When he realizes his efforts amount to nothing, all that anger will be turned to self hatred, to submission. 

“I can feel the floor touching me in a weird way. Can you stop that?” he said.

“Eh, what?” I replied.

“Yeah, just like in the wall. I can feel the gold moving around my back in weird places,”

“You mean your butt?”

 “Can you stop it or not?!”

“I don't know what you are talking about. Maybe you are not used to being surrounded by gold,”

“Don't play dumb, it's obviously you're doing it,”

“Or cramps for being in the same positions for too long,”

“Don't just ignore me!”

“A massage will fix it,”

“Massage-? I won't let you put your dirty hands on me,” he replied.

“Back to the wall, it is.” 

”Fine, when you have your guard down, I will strike you.” he murmured. 

With a hand gesture, a table rose from the floor at the center of the room. Golden arms stretch from its sides and get ready to work. A snap of my fingers is all I need to make the gold attach Roronoa to the table. 

“Wait, I'm restrained even in this?”

“Absolutely, I don't want you to do anything stupid with my massager. Now be quiet.”

With another snap of my finger, the arms get to work. They run through his back with care. I turn around and get to work while the massage continues.

“What are you-?! Get your hand off that!”

“What's that noise? I told you to shut your mouth,”

“Tell your stupid massager not to touch my butt!”

“What's the matter? Never been massaged there?”

“Why would people get a massage there?”

“When you get a massage, you release the body's bottled-up tension, but if you ignore any area, all that tension just migrates there. All the strongest pirates know this,”

“imposible, that makes no sense.”

“What kind of pirate are you? Everybody knows this. Lots of vice admirals get them here."

"In any case, just stay quiet and let the arms do their job. It's not their fault you are a virgin broke slave who doesn't have taste or culture,”

“Quit it with the virgin thing!”

“You are a virgin! Have you ever had sex before?” 

“Those things are not relevant to my training. They are distractions from the mind,” he said confidently.

After that, he got back in position and the massage continued. I can sense every touch and movement my gold takes, so of course I can tell every movement the golden hands do on his body without watching. Every groan when they pass through his crack, the restrained whimpers as they caress his chest, but the fabulous moment is when one of the fingers enters his ass, and he wriggles on the table.

Even then, he remains in place, keeping the same image of bravado. He believes my lie so easily, he must be so ignorant of the most basic of information I can convince him of anything. I wonder how much I can push it.

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

Zoro

It's been a week since the first time that golden perv got me on the miserable massage table. Now they have become part of our messed-up routine. 

“Lunchtime,” said the gold bastard.

For some reason, he has started to spend more time here, so all my meals are accompanied by his sickening grin. A servant brings the food for the both of us. He turns the TV on to see what’s going on with Luffy and the crew, and lastly, he snaps his fingers to summon the massage table.

I look at it and wonder how many days have passed since I got here. I lost track of time, with days starting to mesh together. 

“Come on, Roronoa, We don't have all day,” he said mockingly.

He finds entertainment in watching me try to get used to them. I can’t give him the satisfaction of seeing me struggle. At some point, he makes them continue to massage me even in the wall. In a twisted way, it gives me plenty of opportunity to adapt.

They also made my body less frustrated than in my first days here. My body still craves release, but that's beside the point.

“You heard me. Get on the table,” he said.

I get on the table, and the arms get ready to work. 

After the first massage, the gold perv came with some massage oils. I could smell the same scent of his disgusting cologne as he unscrewed the bottle.

“I don't need it,” I said, holding my breath.

He got closer to my face and said, “It's not a suggestion. You can thank me later,” 

Fucking maniac, he is so self-center he wants everything to smell like him. 

Whatever the oil is, as soon as it touches my body, I can feel it sipping into my skin. It fans the fire that started to burn inside me days ago, growing wilder as more of the oil is rubbed against my neck. I try to hold my breath, keep my head clear, and get this over with while they tend to my shoulders. They pressed against my back, loosening a nudge of tension, but also made me take a deep breath from the force. The smell of the oil saturates me in a second. The stress of staying dangling from the wall transitions into an animalistic drive. I have an itch that needs to be scratched. 

I need to get off this table, run, stretch my legs, fight anyone, something! This energy running through me is making me go insane. 

The hands move to my feet and I try to relax, letting my determination win over my body. Then they start to move up towards my legs. The more it moves, the less control I have left.

They work my thighs with vigor, the palms run their way into my inner thighs. Then their movements become slow, with the sound of my heartbeat as loud as Luffy’s snoring. Fuck, they are going to do it now. 

Just get to it! Wait, I don't look forward to something like this. 

I want it to end sooner, that's all. 

They grab my asscheeks, groping them before revealing my entrance. The hands slowly let my sweat and the oil mix around the entrance before forcing a finger inside.

A grunt escapes my mouth.

The pressure dissipates. It subsides faster with each session. It proves that I'm mastering this form of training. The golden fingers explored every inch of flesh inside me for the past few days, learning the places I store my stress. As they massage each point, I can feel the stress leave my body. In its place, the fire inside me flares even more. 

I can feel my dick hard against the table, precum flowing out of me against my will. Getting a hard-on over a massage is embarrassing; having one in front of this perv is beyond worst. But between the hands, the oil, and my longing for release, there is little work from my brain right now besides basic instinct. 

The little strength still within me is holding me in place, not rubbing my dick against the golden table. The hands continue their massage, extending deeper into me, expanding against the walls of my anus with every breath I take. 

The motion is intoxicating, and I feel climax so near but something is missing. Good, I would never cum from something like this. Then the hands launched even deeper; I had to suppress a moan. What are they doing? My balls are tight, ready to shoot at the next movement. I don't want that, but my body moves on its own, pushing against the golden arms.

Before I can make a fool of myself, the arms retreat and leave me pent up at the table. I draw air in regardless of the smell. I'm spent and yet restless. 

“You might be finally enjoying it. It took you long enough, Roronoa,” he said, standing beside the table.

“Shut up,” I reply drily.

He grabs me by the hair and pulls me up. I try to break free, but my arms turn to gold as soon as I raise them. 

“What is this then? You have made a mess of my table with that pathetic dick,”

“If I had my swords, I would cut you into pieces,” 

He threw me away and snapped his fingers. My body was instantly free from the gold bind. He gestured to the wall as my swords emerged from within it. I ran towards them without a second thought.

“Asura: Ichibugin” I yell.

My swords stayed inches away from his skin when he decided to turn me into a golden statue.

“You are either very resilient or absolutely stupid,” 

“People like you don’t understand. Shame, virtue, morals? None of that means anything in the face of power. In the face of money!” He said before kicking me across the room. 

“You think you are above anyone, all this posturing as if anyone cares? You are dirt, a decoration on my wall, nothing more! So give up and stop with these stupid stunts.”

I coughed, trying to get some air back into my lungs, but before I could, he got beside me.

“I will teach you, even with a bounty of three hundred and twenty million berries, your life is nothing to the eyes of the world,” 

The gold from the wall extends and puts my body back in the wall.

“And I will start by showing what happens when dirt like you want to act all sanctimonious here,”

Then I felt something enter my hole; it expanded as it made its way inside me.

“What are you doing-?!” 

“I'm upgrading your massages. This plug will keep you nice and accessible for your next session,” 

The gold keeps entering my body like the arms on the massage table, my mind is drowning in rage, but my dick remains hard.

“Make it stop,”

“And miss the face you are making right now? I don't think so, all that anger, that shame. It’s entertaining, and the more you resist, the more I’ll get to enjoy it,”

“You sick fuck,”

“Said the pirate leaving a pool of precum on my floor?”

How can I keep a hard-on now, of all moments? What is happening to me?

“Your friends might entertain the entire city, but you, You are my personal entertainment, pirate hunter,”

He turned around, leaving me panting on the wall. For the rest of the day, he continued to work on his desk, eyeing me whenever he felt like it. All while the gold in the wall continued to mess with my insides. The gold probe moved inside me with a constant pace, leaving my dick rock hard but never close enough to cum. 

“I'm done for the day, but before I go. I´ll grant you a last taste of heaven before going back to hell,” he said, approaching me.

I could barely listen to him. The perpetual state of arousal had clouded my senses. Even then, my glazed eyes saw him snap his fingers. The probe went overdrive at that moment, vibrating violently and sending static shocks. My inside is raw from the constant stimulation, with the vibrations massaging every inch of flesh into oblivion. The electricity travels through my body, making a spot inside my cavity jolt, the same one that has been firing arousal into my brain whenever the probe touches it. The intensity of the probe increased. I never knew my ass could feel anything at all; now, all my senses are heightened from the intensity.

I let out a yell as the shock sent me over the edge. Ropes of cum fire from my cock, staining the floor in front of me.

“Savor this moment Roronoa, 'cause you won't feel it again until you learn to do it on your own,” he said. 

He left the office, leaving me in the dark of the room. What does he mean by my own? It doesn't matter. I need to get out of here. Our crew has too many perverts for me to turn into another one.

<< First Chapter / Next Chapter > /

[vibratingskull]

CHAPTER 2 BABY !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Oh to bask in the sun in Thurfian's arms... 😩Isn't it just the dream ?

Scrumptious drawing by @thrawns-backrest ❤️

Part 1

Thurfian x F!reader

Tag : Fluffy fluff, hugs and kisses, brief mention of masturbation (M), vacations

Thurfian’s hand slides on the tables to reach and take yours, very slowly, very gently, testing the water. 

You imperceptibly froze at his touch but let him do. 

You are absolutely ravishing tonight, in such a dazzling dress with that cut on the side, letting him appreciate the perfection of your legs. You do not look at him, preferring to look at the stage where the classical formation is playing. But he only looks at you. 

You are on a private island, owned by the Mitth family. Everyone here is at the orders of Thurfian, no one will speak about your little escapade or what they saw you doing. It is a very short escapade, only one week because he reasonably cannot abandon his Patriarch’s duties for much longer. He already left everything to Thivick, and Warrior knows how much his aide will resent him. 

He already resents him enough like that. 

Thurfian tries sweet and soft gestures but slowly to not shock you. Your assault was months ago, but still very fresh in your mind and he doesn’t want to disturb you, even though he craves for so much more... 

He starts to caress the back of your hand with his thumb, entranced by your profile. You take great care not to look in his direction. You cannot look him in the eyes but accepted the escapade nonetheless. 

Since that fateful night, you both had time to talk. He sat you down and explained to you how things work around here, the mate orders, matching, why he evaded you and treated you so poorly, and Thrawn’s true motivations behind your ‘diplomatic mission’. 

You listened to him, mute, before rising on your feet and simply said “Thank you for all the information, Patriarch.” And you just left him here, arms dangling, trying to guess what came into your mind. 

Your aura was noticeably dark and moody after that, or when he could see you because you locked yourself in your room for several days to digest all those news. 

And more importantly, digesting Thrawn’s betrayal. 

Thurfian vain side was pleased, hoping you would stop talking about another man than him with sparkles in your eyes, but he quickly muzzled those thoughts. The only thing that helped and allowed you to keep going in the Ascendancy and beare Thurfian’s harsh treatment was your undying loyalty towards your Grand Admiral and friend. Learning he manipulated you in such a way was such a stab to your trust you locked yourself in to cry for days, only appearing in the commune rooms with perfect makeup but red, wet eyes. 

Thurfian tried to be present for you to soothe the pain, but this time you were the one evading him, escaping him when he entered a room. How could you remain with a man your traitorous superior manipulated you to mate with? 

You simply couldn’t. 

Stabbing Thurfian’s heart. 

He who just accepted his true sentiments had to watch you flee before him. 

He thought he would see you enter his office to demand him to send you back to your empire at any moment. 

But coming back to Thrawn was impossible for now for you. Whether you remained or went, you didn’t want to see either of them. You were trapped either way. 

Thurfian didn’t try to impose his presence on you, respecting your boundaries, even if they made him bleed. You spent several months ignoring each other, or you ignored him while he desperately turned in your direction to watch you walk away from him when you crossed paths in the corridor of the manor. 

But he never tried to hold you back. It was your choice, your decision. 

And he will respect it. 

But at night the fantasies got wilder and wilder, he dreamed about you knocking on his door in the dead of night, unannounced, to throw yourself at him, to kiss him in a demanding embrace and push him onto his bed to straddle him and ride him sloppily while he held on your hips for dear life as you strangled his cock with your sweet pussy. 

He woke up every morning hard as wood, like every day since you appeared in his life, but now instead of getting rid of it with an icy cold shower, he fisted himself, allowing himself to dream and fantasize about you, welcoming those cravings, accepting them... 

He knew it was impossible, that sooner or later you’ll ask to be sent back and leave him alone but for now, he allowed himself. 

And one day you did enter his office unannounced in the dead of night while he was focusing on a land conflict file. But your eyes weren’t fiery and heavy with desires as he dreamed so much, they were tired and weary. 

He held his breath with an impassible expression, letting none of his inner turmoil pierce his perfect mask of stoicism, awaiting your fatal demand that would bury him alive. 

But you just sighed. 

“I don’t know if I can become what you want me to become.” You simply said. 

Your shoulders were low and you stood pressed against the door, like you didn’t want to take too much space, like he would get mad at you. 

Where was your smugness? Where did your attitude go? This was not like you. 

“I do not want for you to become anything.” He responded with a beating heart, thankful that humans cannot see in infrared like Chiss as he felt heat spreading to his cheeks. 

“Then why not send me back?” 

Warrior, here we go... 

“The choice is yours, and yours only.” He said with a sour taste in his mouth. 

Please do not ask to go back please do not ask to go back, please do not ask. 

“I...” You started before becoming completely mute. 

You were clearly in the middle of a storm of your own sentiments and contradictions. 

He slowly stood up to approach you carefully. 

“I will access your demand, whatever it is as I promised you months ago.” He said, stopping one step away from you. 

You did not look him in the eyes, your head low, your lips in a thin line. He tentatively took your chin to raise your head to his shiny gaze. 

“But I want you to remain... Even if nothing comes out of it, I wish for you to remain with us. With me... Even if you despise me.” 

“I do not despise you.” You revealed so low he barely heard you, “I am so lost. I can’t face him right now, but I cannot give you what you want.” 

“Whatever you choose, the Mitth Manor is your home in the Ascendancy. You may come and go as you wish, you are free.” He solemnly declared. 

He held you hostage for a whole year, treating you with contempt and disdain. But it was before. before he had to confront his true feelings and wants. If he has to let you go to ensure your happiness he will give you the shackles’ key, he will open the door wide open, he will give you his personal yacht for you to go back. 

If that means you will pardon and forgive him he will renounce you and accept his fate. 

“I don’t know what to do...” You whispered. 

“Then remain. Take the time to think and clear your head, rest, mend... But remain, please.” He almost begs in a breath, his hand releasing your chin to cup your cheek. 

“Not long ago you only wanted to chase me away and now you ask me to stay...” You say with a touch of sarcasm in your lassitude. 

“And I ask for your forgiveness for my actions. But my words are true, if you wish to stay, my door is wide open for you.” 

Your hand tentatively came to hold his on your cheek with a sigh. 

“You are a difficult man, Patriarch Thurfian.” 

“And you are an incredible woman, (Y/n).” 

He pulled you into his arms, leaving you time to push him away if you so choose. But he felt your arms wrapping around his ribcage to hold him close and he kissed your forehead before diving his nose in your hair to breathe in that oh-so–delectable scent on you.  

It was your first physical contact since he carried you to the infirmary of the manor and it felt so right and good to embrace your body against his, feeling whole for the first time. 

It was months ago now, and slowly you relaxed in his presence and accepted to open up to him, ever so slightly. 

And today you agreed to ‘elope’ with him on this private island. Just the two of you. Away from all the other Chiss to give your relationship a try, and see where it could go. 

And he is incredibly thankful. 

Thurfian only feels at ease with you, allowing himself to be his true self next to you. He had to walk on eggshells since he became a Patriarch more than ten years ago, losing his friends and maintaining a cordial but cold and distant relationship with the members of his own family. 

Not even taking into account Thivick’s betrayal when he let Thalias take his charric to threaten his Patriarch’s life in the limo...  

Their relationship and dynamic forever changed since that day and Thurfian took the habit of carrying his own charric on his person. 

But with you... 

With you he feels like he could let everything go and indulge, feeling like a Chiss again and not just a machine giving judgments. He feels that his redemption could come with you. 

You remain fixed on the musician as he silently looks at you, hypnotised and in awe.  

How could such perfection exist? And could he dare hide his eyes from it? 

He gently reaches for you and caresses a strand of hair behind your ear, prompting you to shift your gaze toward him. He gently smiles, caressing your cheek with his knuckles tenderly.  

How he missed that feeling of bubbling lightness and softness embracing his old heart. How he missed feeling love constricting his heart so much that he feels like he could suffocate. 

He wants to kiss you but you are not there yet so instead he takes your hand to kiss it, looking into your gorgeous human eyes.  

You smile tightly, still unsure. 

 But smile nonetheless. 

“Let’s go to bed.” You announce, standing up. 

He escorts you to your door, his hands modestly clasped behind his back. He knows this dance by heart by now, you will exchange words at your doorframe and he will hope you will let him enter your intimate cocoon, let him pierce your secrets, but you will simply smile politely as you lean against the doorframe, looking dreamily in his red gaze as he politely wishes you good night and sweet dream. 

And you will close the door on him. 

And you both will remain in your respective bedrooms, wondering how to get out of this loop. 

He takes it with grace and gives you your space even though every evening he hopes secretly. 

Tonight is no different, you open your door and turn toward him for your farewells of the night. You hold your purse in your hands, leaning against the doorframe, and look at him with a ravishing innocent look in your eyes making his heart pump harder. 

“I thank you for this delicious day at your side, (Y/n).” He says solemnly, lightly bowing his head to you. 

“Thank you, Patriarch. I had fun, it was really agreeable to spend time with you.” You respond with a little smile. 

“I am pleased to hear it. You looked ravishing tonight.” He tries, a compliment cannot hurt. 

You bite your lower lips, looking at your hands for a split second. He is about to take his leave and leave you in peace when you raise on your tip toes and cup his cheek. You let a small, but incredibly soft kiss at the corner of his lips. His heart skips a beat. 

So, so close to a real, proper kiss. Taunting him, teasing him, torturing him... But he sees in your eyes you are not playing with him. You simply wanted to kiss the corner of his lips and did it. He seizes the hand cupping his cheek to kiss its palm, holding it tight with a short breath. 

His head follows yours as you lower yourself back on your feet, pressing his forehead against yours. His instincts are screaming at him to ravage your lips, to carry you to bed, and be done with it. The siren calls are  loud and tantalizing, your scent making him feel dizzy and lightheaded but he holds on to his senses, pressing your hand in his.  

He gulps with envy at your plump lips dolled up with an insolent shade of red lipstick that enraptures his gaze, making him forget about everything else. You intertwine your fingers together, looking at your human skin color pressed against his deep and vibrant blue one. 

You look up at his red shiny rubies, gleaming with dark desires. They illuminate the dim corridor of the villa, hypnotizing you completely. You amusingly think back about what you thought about Thurfian during your first encounter, that despite between a pain he was dashing and elegant, that you would have at least a pretty thing to look at during your stay. 

And today he could be yours. You see in his eyes he is fighting his most baseless instincts, trying really hard to not tear your pretty dress apart and claim you like a beast right here and there. 

He is too polite and well-mannered to let them win.  

He is desperate for you but will not let it dictate his action, contrary to a lot of men you knew both in the Empire and the Ascendancy. 

Making you feel safe around him. 

He is honorable and trustworthy, safe to be around, careful not to trigger you, and respect your boundaries and the fact that you needed time to mend. 

Your eyes slowly lower to his blue lips and you cannot help but lick yours. 

With an immense effort, Thurfian parts from you, releasing your hand, bowing respectfully to you. 

“Good night, (y/n). May the Warrior watch over your dreams.” And he leaves you there, breathless. 

Thurfian walks hurriedly to his bedroom and locks himself in. He puts his forehead against the door as he tries to catch his breath, feeling sweat trickling down his temples. 

He needs a cold shower urgently... 

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

Thurfian turns his page, but his eyes are on you, swimming lazily in the sea. 

You came to an isolated beach, he left his domestics and bodyguards at the villa and escorted you here for you to enjoy the sun after a full year and several months underground. You slid your hand in his, to his utmost pleasure all the way here. 

He took a picnic basket and headed towards the white sand beach. He remained on his sun lounger under a parasol to read while you delighted yourself in the ocean’s warm water. But his red eyes were glued to your body in this tiny bikini. He took a deep breath, keeping his urges solidly on a leash, watching you walk away to the water. 

This bikini was perfectly cut letting him admire the perfection of your forms, the smoothness of your skin, the roundness of your curves. You didn’t even try to be appealing to him, you just undressed casually and immediately headed to the sea, letting him unclothe you with his mind, his shining red rubies caressing your soft skin. 

He shakes his head, trying to focus on his novel. He promised you not to bring any work documents during the travel, to actually try and relax for once. His chest puffed up with a warm sensation at the idea that you watched him closely and realized that he never took any day off, working hard every day. To know that you might be worried for him is relieving and comforting to him. Knowing that you care about him rejoices him, even though he hides it perfectly behind a closed expression. 

As he finally manages to focus on his book you get out of the water heading towards him, dripping with water beads on your gorgeous, perfect body.  

“What is it about?” you ask, scrubbing your beautiful hair with your towel. 

He closes the book to look at the summary of the novel. 

“It is about a murder during a political turmoil. A child also goes missing.” Thurfian resumes shortly. 

He rarely gives thriller a try but why not after all? 

And instead of laying on your own sun lounger as he expected you squeeze yourself on his, half laying on top of him, resting your handsome face on his shoulder with a pleased sigh. He remains mute, in shock by your new cuddly attitude, not daring to squeeze you in his arms. He looks at you dumbfounded while you start drawing circles on his pecs with your finger. 

Is he dreaming? 

Yesterday’s kiss and now this?  

He hesitantly and carefully wraps his arm around your shoulders and you press your cheek harder against his chest muscle. He lowers his head to kiss the top of your head, immensely pleased by your new disposition.  

“Say, what does mating entail? What would happen if we did it?” You ask cautiously. 

He starts caressing your hair, searching for his words, trying to present it in a favoring light to not scare you off. 

“It is a deep emotional and physical bond between two people that pledged themself to one another.  It is like falling in love again and again, every day, your mate’s presence becomes evident and imperative, and you wish nothing more but to hold them close and have them safe and sound. They invade your mind and plague your dreams.” He explains softly as you keep caressing his chest.  

“Like an obsession?” You inquire almost detached. 

Thurfian’s winces. 

“Yes. Like an obsession...” He reluctantly admits, “But the kind to push to do better. It is a driving force, a boost of energy, an enchanting spell. You only want the best for each other and strive to do good for your mate.” 

“Is it painful? When you can’t be with your mate?” 

“Yes. It is like having your heart stabbed multiple times.” Thurfian explains. 

He never mated with anyone, he just go with what he heard and the last scientific studies he read. You turn your head to rest your chin on his pec and look at him with your piercing gaze, going straight to his heart. 

“Is it painful for you right now? ...Am I causing you pain?” You tentatively ask. 

He bores into your human eyes, his knuckles coming to caress your cheek tenderly. 

“Yes.” Thurfian reveals in a breath “I am in pain right now. You bring me to my knees. But that should be none of your concern, this is my problem.” He clearly establishes. 

“... I am sorry.” 

“Do not be. I can deal with it.” 

Your eyes lower, like you are getting lost in your own thoughts. Your palms are pressed against his chest muscles, burning his skin with desires. He shows you none of his turmoil. 

 “I am so scared to radically change as a person...” You reveal. 

“(Y/n)...” He calls gently in a whisper, still caressing your cheek, “You will not change in any way. You will always remain yourself.” 

“I don’t want to be enjoyed and then tossed aside.” 

“Do you really think I will do that?” He inquires softly. 

“Didn’t you to it to several prospects?” 

He mentally curses. Who told you that? He hoped he could have hidden his sulfurous past from you. 

“And I pay the price ever since.” He corrects with patience, “I would not be “The Mateless” right now if I played fair and I sorely regret it. I no longer have time to play around.” 

You tilt your head. 

“So are you trying to get me because you have no other choice? You come to me because I am your last resort and not a genuine option?” Your eyes rise back to his. 

He considers you, trying to determine if you are fucking with him.  

But your doubts are legitimate, he has no leg to stand on to ask you to stop questioning his motives. He put himself in this situation himself. 

“(Y/n).” He pulls your face closer until your foreheads are pressed together, hypnotizing you with his red gaze, “We would not be here together if I was not genuinely into you, I would not waste both of our precious times if I did not crave your daily presence at my side. I have only my words to offer you right now but I can solemnly declare to you that I am truly attracted to you, I want to wake up at your side every morning, help you braid your hair each day, and welcome you back at my table to share dinner every night. I desire you (Y/n), as I stopped hoping to desire someone long ago. I want to hold you close and shower you with love, if only you would permit me...” 

He had all the time to question himself. Was he genuine or simply desperate to mate?  

At first, he was indeed simply desperate, his body carving yours to stabilize his own organism. But his sentiments grew and evolved, he wants your love and happiness now. 

With...  

Or without him... 

If setting you free is what it takes to make you happy he will let you go. If you want a ring and a ceremony he will give them to you. He will walk you to the altar before the entire Mitth family and do it with pride no matter what they might say and whisper behind his back. 

Because you are his destiny. 

What matters to him now is your smile. And nothing else, not even his “mateless” reputation. 

If you just want the wedding and not the mating, he will oblige. As long as you welcome him in the warmth and security of your embrace he will be satisfied. 

Did he take it badly that his new prospect was an alien and not a Chiss? Yes. 

But he was soon forced to recognize that your worth and value expanded way beyond your alien nature. You were incredibly resilient, striving in adversity, worthy of all the riches the Chiss worlds hold. And he will give them to you on his knees if you allow him to call you his.  

“What thoughts are crossing your mind right now?” He asks gently. 

“It is a tempting offer...” You admit, resuming the circles on his chest with your nail, “How would the process go?” 

“I take you to bed and put the bond in place. It is quite simple.” He brushes the tip of his nose with yours. 

“Is it... painful?” 

“No.” He comfortingly smiles at you, “No it isn’t. It is warm and pleasurable, like a deeper orgasm. No pain is involved.” He explains without sugarcoating it. 

“All right...” You acquiesce, your eyes lowering back on your finger grazing his skin. 

“Are you saying... That you would agree?” He asks, hope and incredulity constricting his heart suddenly. 

Will you do it? Pledge yourself to him and allow him to pledge himself to you? Making him the happiest Chiss in the universe? 

His hand comes to seize yours to intertwine your fingers to keep you close eagerly awaiting your next words. 

“I didn’t want... at first. You were distant, cold, and hateful. But you took care of me after... “the incident”. You showed me parts of yourself that I didn’t know about.” 

“Did you like them?” He asks, his throat dry. 

“Yes. I liked them. If you promise to keep showing them to me and treat me as you did until now... I think I am ready to take that leap of faith.” You look at him with a clear gaze that shakes his heart. 

He squeezes your hand, kisses the tip of your nose, and responds in a low murmur like a secret.  

“Then I will jump with you, (Y/n). Let’s do it together.” 

“Are you not afraid of what everyone else will say about you?” 

“Let them talk. That is all they can do against us. If you let me take you as my mate you will help me legitimize my power on the Throne and I will be able to protect you in return. No one could reach us. We will be unstoppable.” 

Your eyes lower to his lips and you slowly lean forward to kiss them. It is soft, it is sweet, it is quick but it sends his heart into a frenzy and a shudder strikes his entire body. He deeply breathes to control himself and not throw himself at you. 

“Sorry, was that painful?” You ask worrried. 

You start to stand up to leave him be, but his hand comes to grab the back of your head and circles your shoulder to keep you pressed against him. 

“No. It is better than everything I ever had.”  

He raises in a sitting position to force you to straddle his lap as he holds you close, his hands caressing your naked back, grabbing your flesh as he kisses you back. He presses his mouth against yours, licking your lips to demand the right to enter. He feels your arms circling his large shoulders, your hand taking a fistful of his long, luscious hair, ruining the braids. 

That’s okay... You can ruin him a little. 

He actually likes that. 

You open your lips for him and he pushes his tongue inside to meet and dance with yours sensually. You gasp in the kiss as he gets more and more daring, more and more demanding, his hands playing with the opening of your bikini top, grabbing your ass by the handful. 

He starts rolling his hips and humping against yours, he wants to feel you fully seated on his crotch as all his blood travel south in his constrictive swimsuit. 

“(Y/n)... (Y/n)... (Y/n)...” He moans without shame between kisses, “Let me love you all night long, let me know your deepest secrets.” 

One of his hand caresses your hip to cup your clothed pussy and trails your slit through the fabric. 

You hiss and shudder, feeling a peak of stress at that intimate touch. Memories of your assault flashes in your mind, making you tremble. 

Thurfian reopens his red eye, parting from your lips to consider you before sadly smiling, raising his hands from your ass and pussy to your back modestly. 

“You are not yet ready.” He simply says. 

“I am sorry Thurfian, I-” 

He sushes you with a soft finger on your lips. 

“You do not have to say sorry for anything. It is perfectly normal.” He corrects you. 

He hugs you tight, laying back on his sun lounger, pulling you tenderly with him. 

“Let’s just enjoy the sun and the sounds of the sea. We have all the time in the world.” He invites softly. 

“What if I never mend? What if I am broken beyond repair?” You ask with a broken voice, tears rising to your eyes. 

“You will heal, (Y/). But it can take years. You have to be patient and trust what your body is telling you.” 

“I... Thank you for not forcing me.” You broke down. 

Is that what you were afraid of? That his affection and love was conditional? That he will kick you out if you didn’t sleep with him? 

He holds you tighter, kissing the top of your head. 

“Never, (Y/n). Never...” He promises. 

That night you let him enter your bedroom. He cradled you all night long while your face rested on his chest, listening to his beating heart like a soothing lullaby. 

@bluechiss @thrawnalani @justanothersadperson93 @al-astakbar@thrawnspetgoose @readinglistfics @elise2174 @debonaire-princess @twilekchiss @pencil-urchin @ineedazeezee @mssbridgerton @dance-like-russia-isnt-watching @Cortisolcosplay @obbicrystaleo @germie2037 @leo4242564 @davesrightshoe @holylonelyponyeatingmacaroni

[lipstickchainsaw]

WHAT DO YOU THINK OF NIGHTMARE AND SPECTRE AND

sorry for the spam hrhdhsh but I really enjoy these for reasons I just mentioned🫶🫶

No worries! I did ask for questions!

I think the Spectre's a ton of fun as a route, in part because of the contrast between the Spectre as the Princess and the Cold as the Voice that joins you. For all that you get to the Spectre because you ran her through with the Blade, she doesn't seem to hold a lot of resentment over you for that fact. She ends up being a cute ghost girl, with just enough of a scary side to remind you this isn't the Damsel, and she won't be a total pushover.

And then there's the Cold, who is so very certain you've killed the Princess, and when she shows up again, this time as a ghost, just goes 'oh? Well, we may as well kill her again, then'. He is, after all, the Cold, emotionally, whereas the Spectre is only physically cold. She's emotionally quite warm.

As for why she's like that, despite you having killed her...

(I'll get to the Nightmare in a reblog)

The Princess is very much shaped by your perception of her (hell, it's why she's a princess in the first place), and how you approach her changes her, gives her depth, nuances, neuroses and traumas. If you just go in there, ignore whatever she's saying, and simply stab her, she gets very little to work with, to build off of, except the Cold's absolute assurance that she is, in fact, dead.

So she ends up as a more... generic ghost, conceptually. Compare her to the Greys, both of whom have a lot more going on, conceptually.

Instead, she develops that depth over her own chapter, in how you respond to her now being a ghost. If you start a little nervous but not actively hostile, she will remain friendly to you, but if you ignore her words and try to slash at her again, she will, at best, reach a utilitarian agreement with you.

And her lack of hostility does play into the Cold some, I think. Because you barely interacted in Chapter 1, she's more... detached from you. You killed her, yes, but there was nothing personal about it, no relationship established, so she gets to essentially start from zero here, and she's a ghost, so she's not that worried about what you'll do to her.

Even when she calls you 'killer' at the start, it's more... chiding than actively angry? She doesn't want revenge, she just thinks you're a bit of a jerk but is willing to put it behind her. Hell, if you're friendly towards her here, and just help her out, her tone outright shifts to playful when she calls you that, which is really cute.

This also makes her one of the few Princesses that directly talks to the Narrator (the others being the Wild, and arguably the Tower, who just takes him over), and reveals quite a bit of his true nature in so doing.

She's also notable as being the only Princess to not be uncomfortable with the cold before the Shifting Mound claims her, because being cold is just... kind of her thing. It feels like home. She's the only Princess to have already made peace with her death (since it was the one thing established about her) and ready to move on, even if she didn't realise she was part of a greater whole.

So the route where you help her out, and resolve matters in Chapter 2 is really cute, a bit of a redemption for yourself, and maybe shows the Cold that being emotionally detached doesn't mean you have to be a jerk about it.

But, as mentioned, she's not harmless. If you make it clear you can't be reasoned with (or try to run away), she will fuck you up. She doesn't hide this dangerous side to her, but if you continue to ignore her warnings, and keep crossing lines, she'll just rip your goddamn heart out. If you don't actually help her escape by giving her a way out, she'll just take it next time.

And I think this tension gives her a layer of agency that honestly makes her less unnerving than, say, the Damsel. She's neat.

[ocymoron]

Zuko who’s feeling unsatisfied and unfulfilled when he’s finally back in the fire nation, back in the palace. And like, he’s trying to figure it out and eventually comes to the conclusion that he misses uncle, misses family. So he does as canon zuko does and visits but oops, Iroh doesn’t want to talk, and he makes that very clear every time zuko visits until he just stops visiting.

Zuko, who still wants for a family, spends days reminiscing and brooding and gets desperate enough to try and rekindle the old relationship he had with Azula. Before she started bending and Ozai got his grumby little hands on her.

Azula is.. entertained by his attempts to bond. And that’s it, his pathetic desperation is only amusing to her, it definitely doesn’t fill her chest with the uncomfortable warmth that she only remembers feeling when she was young and weak. She is so deep in denial it’s insane, cause she keeps using that excuse as they do, slowly, get closer and closer to how they were, and keeps justifying her indulgence with the same old excuse.

Of course, Azula is not one to trust so easily. Years of unofficially being the Crown Princess and being educated on the ruthlessness of the political landscape that makes up the nobles has perhaps made her the littlest bit paranoid. And a part of her can’t help but see Mother in Zuko, can’t help the instinctive bitterness that swells up in her throat each time they exist in the same space.

So she sets up a test. Zuko seems so very devoted to being a better brother, has the same look of something she doesn’t want to emotionally touch that Mother had when she looked at Zuko. Traitorously, she wonders if his devotion to her extends to the same extent Mothers did.

Now, obviously, she can’t tell a ridiculous lie like ‘Father’s found out I lied and he’s angry enough to kill me and I’m just sooo scared zuzu~.’ Because they both know she’s still the favorite and, even if his mind seems to get more delusional by the day, Ozai would never kill his prodigy daughter over a little lie.

But she can fabricate one that seems like something he’d do had she actually been found out.

She times it perfectly. Zuko enters her room, mouth open and no doubt about to go on another rant about some stupid play, but stops dead on the sight of her.

There is no greater liar than Azula, so as she carefully checks the burns marks in the mirror she put on her own arms, high enough to hide, she makes sure to tense and freeze up slightly as she makes eye contact with Zuko before, very obviously, forcing herself to relax.

She stays silent as she puts on salves and creams to help it heal and prevent scarring, pointedly not making eye contact with him again and keeping her back to him. Projecting shame and vulnerability that she’s never let him see before.

Zuko unfreezes right as she finishes and storms up to her, hastily grabs her arm with a gentleness that contradicts his urgency, and asks, no, demands to know who did this. His expression is so.. sincere and genuine, so open. It makes her sick. But she’s never given up on a plan just because of her own pitiful emotions, modify them maybe, but never abandon.

She keeps her eyes low and to the side, glues them to her burn, and purposefully crafts her face to something resigned and resentful, inflects her voice with just enough bitterness as she snaps at him, defensive. “Who do you think, dumb-dumb?”

He pulls her into an unwelcome and skin burning and itching and crawling ants under her skin— a hug, he pulls he into a ridiculous hug before she can sneak a glance at his expression but the tense, resigned set to his shoulders gives her enough of an answer.

He loves her enough to care and comfort but his loyalties still lay with Father. She understands better now, on how close she can allow him, puts him just a bit higher than Ty Lee and Mai. It might be foolish but a small part of her was hoping for more, was hoping for the same love Mother had for him, the one she tries so hard for from Father.

She lets the hug drag on few a more seconds and then shoves him off, orders him out and away. Turns her back to him, again, and tugs her sleeves down, dismissive and guarded. She’s only made eye contact once and is staunchly ignoring him now so she doesn’t catch the hard, protective glint in his eye, doesn’t see the way his expression is blank of everything but determination.

She goes to bed and tries to ignore the traitorous thoughts that keep her up, make her question her loyalty and wonder if anything about her is true and real, that whisper in her ears and sound suspiciously like Mother as they condemn her to her fate as a puppet for her Father.

She wakes and gets ready with her attendants like normal and acts perfectly fine because she is her Father’s daughter and she is nothing less than perfect. The attendants shift and glance at her and each other with uneasy eyes, as though daring someone else be the first to speak.

Her oldest attendant informs her of the news. Firelord Ozai is dead, throat slit in his sleep with his arms charred, hands practically gone. His vocal cord was cut, they say, that’s why no one heard him scream. They sound muddled and distant as they speak and she gets tired of the droning that worsens the tight feeling in her chest, sharply raises her hand for silence and tries to ground herself. The looming dread won’t leave her no matter how hard she tries, someone snuck in to the palace and her father is dead and oh fuck, she’s the Firelord now.

Zuko meets her for breakfast, an incredibly early breakfast and shoots her a strained smile but his posture is all wrong, not enough grief and anger and too much pride. The realization hits her quick and hard and she just barely stops herself from dropping her bite of food. He he’d barely reacted and had left so quick because was planning on killing their fucking dad, planning on assassinating their Father in his sleep, a death without the honor of combat, the opportunity to fight for your life. He had to watch their Father bleed out, had to sit and wait before incinerating his arms, all because he allegedly hurt her.

It is too overwhelming of a realization for breakfast so she pushes it aside, gives a small nod and ignores him the rest of the time. She lets the small thought that Zuko is far more like Mother than she expected linger for a moment before banishing that one too. They both ignore the empty seat at the head of the table.

[carewyncromwell]

"In my life I feel like a prisoner, in a light...

Are you feeling me?

'Cause the way you make my

Break my, shake my walls around,

I feel like I'm breaking out!

Show me your colors --

Show me your colors --

'Cause without you, I'm blue..."

~"Hurry Up and Save Me" by Tiffany Giardina

x~x~x~x

~Inspired by a concept by @ag907 💜~

In the story of Jacob and Carewyn Cromwell, the two siblings had to face a lot of tragedy in their lives. One of the single largest was the loss of Duncan Ashe, Jacob's first friend and love. But what if Duncan hadn't died prior to Jacob's expulsion? What if Duncan had been with Jacob, Peter Pettigrew, and Patricia Rakepick on that ill-fated jaunt to the Portrait Vault that resulted in Jacob's imprisonment? What if, after Rakepick's supposed "betrayal," he decided he'd force the Gringotts Cursebreaker to help him save Jacob from the Portrait Vault and R, by any means necessary? And what if Lane Cromwell and little nine-year-old Carewyn caught wind that the last person known to have been with Jacob before his disappearance was his now-graduated Slytherin classmate, Duncan Ashe?

x~x~x~x

The end of Duncan's Hogwarts career had been very turbulent. However he'd imagined ending his time at school, it certainly wouldn't have involved him becoming an Apprentice Cursebreaker at Gringotts under the tutelage of a R stooge he was currently blackmailing to keep from fleeing the country. It also hadn't included being alone at his graduation ceremony -- sure, he hadn't expected anything more than detached applause from his father and stepmother...but he'd always imagined Olivia and Jacob on either side of him, when he finally accepted his graduation scroll from Dumbledore. And he'd certainly not expected to exchange such a piercing look with the Headmaster while doing it.

"If I'm to help Jacob, then I need to know everything you know about the organization he joined, Duncan."

"I already told you, Jacob and I know next to nothing about R! Even those people who've joined it don't seem to know much about it, and they've done that on bloody purpose. I don't need your help, Professor -- I just need access to Hogwarts. Once I find the enchanted portrait again and break all the Vaults' curses in the proper order, I can save Jacob. I will save him and Olivia, damn whatever R might do."

"You might feel that way, Duncan...but as Hogwarts' Headmaster, I must care about what R might do. I won't hinder you from visiting Hogwarts, should you reach out to me -- but if you are to have free reign, you will have to convince both me and the Minister of Magic that you will not likewise give the Dark Wizards Jacob has aligned himself with access to my school and the students I protect. And you mustn't forget -- Jacob himself now poses a threat, with his own forced allegiance to R."

"...So you don't want Jacob to be free..if it means R could use him to hurt people?! Jacob would NEVER want to be with R -- he would fight them with everything in him, if he could! Whatever dark magic is in that mark they put on him, he'd be doing it against his will! Jacob would never -- !"

"I know. Truly, I do. But until R is rounded up and brought to justice, it sounds as though Jacob will still be a weapon they can use against others, whether he likes it or not. And Jacob is powerful and talented enough that he would be a very valuable weapon for such people. I don't like the situation, Duncan...but until the people holding Jacob's chains are dealt with...it may be safest for himself and others if he -- at least for the interim -- remains contained.”

His last conversation with the Hogwarts Headmaster played over Duncan's head off and on the last month, flooding the Slytherin alum with resentment and rage. It seemed to crop up most whenever he and Rakepick headed to work -- perhaps because just about every time they collided in the Leaky Cauldron, Rakepick would be shooting furtive looks over her shoulder, monitoring their surroundings.

"Take a chill pill," Duncan remarked once dryly as he walked through the brick wall into Diagon Alley, not even looking at her. "Are you expecting some knobhead in a red cloak to pop up in broad daylight?"

"Don't be a fool," Rakepick hissed back coldly.

The twenty-six-year old witch took another critical glance around as they walked side by side down the street.

"R is always watching, Duncan Ashe. Neither of us know the extent of their numbers -- even I can't assess who is a member and who isn't without touching them."

"Let 'em watch -- I don't care," scoffed Duncan. "They only really have the ability to threaten and coerce, to get their way. R has nothing I want, and what little family I do have they can threaten all they want."

Something darker passed over his face.

"I've already lost the two most important people in my life, thanks to them," he muttered. "They've lost all power they could have over me."

Rakepick's lips knit together grimly. She looked away.

"Don't underestimate just how much the wolves of R can take from you, Duncan Ashe," she said lowly. "They feed on far more than just physical flesh."

Duncan didn't answer. Instead he adjusted the collar of his dark green robes and started up the stairs of Gringotts bank.

"Did you track down the portrait yet?" he asked.

Rakepick scowled. "I checked Pettigrew's old flat, but it hasn't been touched since Black supposedly killed him, so it's not there. I frankly don't know where else he might've hidden it -- it's not like he has any friends left in the world, with him having to play dead. It's frankly a miracle I was able to pressure him to help us with the Vault in the first place..."

"If by 'help,' you mean leave us for dragon chow," Duncan said scornfully.

"Beggars can't be choosers, Mr. Ashe," Rakepick shot back coolly. "We needed at least four people if we were to fight a dragon. And I don't believe you, Jacob, or I were about to ask any of the Hogwarts faculty to help."

Duncan scowled, but otherwise dropped the issue.

"We'll have to keep looking, then. Even if we break the other Vaults' curses again in the proper order, it won't mean a thing, if we can't get back to the Portrait Vault..."

"Pettigrew and his little Hogwarts buddies had plenty of old hiding places back on the Hogwarts grounds," said Rakepick, and her lips actually quirked up with a cool smirk. "But I daresay Dumbledore will want a proper explanation for why my Apprentice Cursebreaker would want such unfettered access to the school and would demand proper oversight. The Minister and our Head Cursebreaker, as well."

Duncan shot her a glare.

"I may have been assigned to study under you, but don't forget my terms, Rakepick. I won't tell Dumbledore or anyone else about what you did to Jacob, but you need to help me set him free. Therefore I'm the one calling the shots -- don't you forget it."

"And don't you forget," Rakepick shot back just as coldly, "that you made those terms out of desperation, since the only other great wizard offering you help is more interested in dealing with R, not the Vaults. Without me, you'll never save Jacob."

Almost as soon as the two entered the bank, they were flagged down by Griphook. Rather than give them an assignment as they expected, however, the goblin looked rather critical as he handed a sealed envelope to Duncan.

"A 'Lane Cromwell' sent this to the bank very early this morning for you," he said irritably. "She did not have your current address, so she followed up here instead."

Both Duncan and Rakepick stiffened sharply at the sound of the name.

"Cromwell..." murmured Rakepick.

"I initially thought to dispose of it -- after all, I am no owl, and if the woman had any friendship with you, I would think she'd already know you've been renting a bed at the Leaky Cauldron for the last two months," Griphook said stiffly as he handed the letter to Duncan and then crossed his arms. "But thinking it could be business-related, I thought best to let you deal with the initial letter, and then only burn any subsequent ones she might try to send through me."

He was tapping his long-nailed fingers beside his forearm, seemingly awaiting an explanation. Duncan looked from the letter to up at Griphook and tried to compose himself.

"Sorry. Yes, I...I'll deal with it at once. Thank you."

Griphook gave a sniff and then trudged back toward his desk.

Duncan looked back down at the envelope warily. Written in very neat, but slightly shaky handwriting in dark blue ink were the words:

Duncan Ashe

Gringotts Bank

Diagon Alley, London

The envelope was not the sturdy, wizarding parchment variety, closed with a wax seal. Instead it was very thin and made of simple white paper: a standard Muggle-produced envelope.

Just like Jacob used to use...

Duncan could feel Rakepick watching him. Stubbornly ignoring her, he ripped the envelope open and read the note inside.

Flat 13, 43 Harrison Way

Liverpool

Dear Mr. Ashe,

We have never met, but I'm Jacob Cromwell's mother. I understand you and my son knew each other at school.

At your earliest convenience, I should dearly like to know about your last interactions with Jacob, prior to his disappearance. If a private in-person meeting could be arranged, I am available on weekends. You will need to use the Knight Bus or careful Apparition, however, as my home is in a Muggle district and my fireplace is not connected to the Floo Network. If you'd prefer to simply give me a written account, I'm willing to accommodate, but please expect follow-up questions by Owl Post, preferably at your home address. Slytherin's new Head of House Severus Snape didn't have anything on file for you aside from your family's address, but he signaled you were unlikely to still be there after your graduation.

Hope this finds you well.

Lane Cromwell

"Well?" said Rakepick.

Duncan read the letter a few more times, considering the words carefully as he swallowed.

He hadn't reached out to Jacob's mother at all after what happened. How could he? He felt guilty enough about what happened, and he didn't know the woman at all -- how could he even begin to explain everything he, Jacob, and Olivia had kept under wraps so long? It had been their secret, their goal -- even now that everything had gone so out-of-control, it was hard to reach out for help with it. Especially when Dumbledore flat-out admitted he thought it'd be too dangerous to set Jacob free as long as R still existed and had power over him...

That, and...Duncan knew how much Jacob loved his mother. Not just her, but his little sister, Carewyn. Jacob's love for his sister overwhelmed just about everything else. It had been Carewyn's life being threatened that had scared Jacob so much. It had been Rakepick saving Carewyn that had coaxed Jacob to trust her, only for Rakepick to end up being part of R too. It was Carewyn, and to a lesser extent his mother, that made Jacob do as R said...made him not just run away and change his name and start a new life in freedom far away from R and their threats, the way Duncan had thought they could...

It was Carewyn -- and Lane -- that Duncan knew Jacob would always choose. Over his own safety, over his own life...over any kind of future with Duncan.

Resentment twinged in his mouth as he bit the inside of his cheek.

Rakepick said Jacob's grandfather has links to R, he thought. Anything I might write could get intercepted...knowing them, they probably have Jacob's flat under surveillance, so they'd know if I visited too...

He reread Lane's letter one more time.

Her "L's" had the exact same swirling flourish that Jacob's did.

His eyes narrowed as he finally lowered the letter.

"We're going to meet her," he said brusquely.

Rakepick was taken aback. "What?"

"Jacob's mother wants to meet me to talk about Jacob. You're coming with me."

Rakepick gave something of an shocked, offended cough.

"Have you lost your senses completely?" she demanded. "R explicitly instructed me not to go anywhere near Jacob's family! If you or I made any contact with them, then R would retaliate against both us and them -- "

"'Beggars can't be choosers,' isn't that what you said?" Duncan recurred very dryly.

He folded up Lane's letter and put it into his robes. Rakepick's eyes flashed.

"R already tried to hurt Carewyn Cromwell once," she hissed at him. "I know -- I was there -- "

"Good," Duncan shot back. "Then you can Apparate me cleanly over to their Muggle neighborhood without us being seen."

"If I hadn't turned against my companions that day, then Jacob's sister would've been crippled or worse!" said Rakepick, and her cold, angry voice betrayed the very slightest strain. "She and her mother have already been emotionally destroyed by his disappearance. Do you truly think that Jacob would want you putting his sister in R's cross-hairs again by doing this? Do you have no moral compunctions, putting the most important people in Jacob’s life -- one of them a nine-year-old child -- on the front lines?"

Duncan met her glare head-on.

"'They've already been destroyed by Jacob's disappearance?'" he repeated accusingly. "Then you've already seen them."

Rakepick flinched. Then her eyes narrowed.

"Only Carewyn," she murmured. "And only from afar."

"Well, I’m not such a coward," said Duncan. His own voice was sharper now, more confrontational. “If you want to talk about moral compunctions, how do you justify refusing to face the family of the bloke you got trapped in a portrait?”

Rakepick’s face was almost forcibly stoic, but she could offer no verbal response. Duncan turned his back on her.

“I need a way back into Hogwarts and into the Cursed Vaults. Maybe some angry mother yanking at his beard will make Dumbledore reconsider his stance.”

[towerartt]

There is something about post-Elpis pre-Jack's ascendency jackothy that is making me soo insane‼️

Timothy is forced to take care of a guy who he had hated from the very beginning, but he has to stick by his side because... why, exactly? Because he signed a contract? Because it seems like the whole universe is after both of them? Maybe he is feeling guilty, like, this should have happened to him. His job was to take the bullets (eridian artifacts?) meant for Jack or whatever. But Jack never really seemed like he needed his protection, that’s the thing. The whole time, he was so stupidly sure of himself. He was also, frustratingly enough, kinda glorious. And maybe Tim resented how cocky he was, and he wished for something to knock him down a peg, right. But, holy shit, not like that.

The mark scares him. He hates aliens, he hates that he doesn’t understand what’s going on, he really hates the way doctors treat Jack. Everybody and their mom want to hook Jack up to some equipment and run tests. Tim doesn’t want to leave him in their hands. They all remind him of Autohn. 

And Jack. Jack hates everything and himself. He keeps thinking about what was promised to him: Hyperion, the Warrior, Pandora, and he knows that, eventually... But for now, his face hurts, and he doesn't feel very heroic. He wants to be victorious NOW he doesn't wanna be in pain! 

And he is non-stop taunted by his unscared face worn by a total stranger. He doesn't even know his name. Recently, his life has been centered around surviving many attempts at his life, and he got betrayed by a bunch of people, so excuse him if he isn’t particularly trusting. He just doesn't get why 21-C sticks around. He must have some kind of underlying motif, but Jack cannot figure it out, which annoys him. Maybe he wants to kill him, but then, what's the hold-up? He should really get on with it.

At least Tim (it does not take much prying to get him to reveal his real name) is a perfect scapegoat to blame all of this on. Lilith is who Jack is truly angry with (understatement of the century), but she is far away, and his doppelganger is right there. If he wants to play nurse, Jack is not going to make it easy on him. 

I just think it is very funny to have Tim try to help Jack all the while that dick does everything in his power to make Lawrence want to strangle him. Timothy is looking over his face, and Jack is like, “So did your mom not love you? You totally act like a guy who wasn’t loved by his mom. Just a casual observation! Don't get your panties in a bunch, jeez.. So, how's the face? Don’t tell me, don't tell me, let me guess. Still screwed up because you couldn’t do your damn job??”

He has Tim pacing around their living room, muttering to himself “I am not the sort of guy to hit an injured man I am not the sort of guy to hit an injured man I am not—”

It is about Jack being humiliated and scared and angry and taking it all out on Lawrence and Tim telling him "it's rotten work. especially to me especially if it's you. I am fucking doing it but christ alive."

[bloody-bee-tea]

Beetober 2023 Day 16 - Flea market

Suguru stumbles when he absorbs the last curse. He’s exhausted, his side is aching from the hit he took halfway through the battle and his stomach is revolting with how many curses he had to take in today.

The mission went fine, but Suguru would still say everything is shit right now. He just hopes Satoru didn’t see because he’s going to make fun of him in that way that means he’s honestly worried and Suguru doesn’t know if he can find the strength to lie convincingly to him today.

“You okay, Suguru?” Satoru asks just on cue and Suguru waves him off, too busy trying to keep from throwing up from the vile taste the last curse left behind.

Usually all the curses taste the same, but Suguru thinks this one is worse than the others.

He really must be exhausted.

“Well, then let’s go for crepes!” Satoru excitedly says and drapes himself over Suguru’s back. “There’s a shop close to here, I think,” he mutters, already scrolling through his phone and Suguru wonders where he gets the energy to do anything right about now.

“I’d rather go home,” Suguru admits, his stomach still twisting and turning and just the thought of crepes makes bile rise in his throat.

“It’s on the way, though, I promise,” Satoru says and shoves his phone into Suguru’s face. “See? We can take that way home, and pass the shop. We get a quick little crepe to go and before you know it, we’re home and you can play hermit in your room.”

Suguru lets out a weary sigh. It’s hard to say no to Satoru when he presents things to him like that—it’s hard for Suguru to say no to Satoru no matter what—but he resents the last statement.

“Not everyone is invincible, you know. Some of us need sleep.” He intended to sound more stern, but it comes out weary and tired. It still doesn’t stop Satoru from digging his bony chin into his shoulder.

“And you’ll sleep better with a full stomach,” Satoru immediately replies and Suguru can’t even deny that he’s right.

It would probably help to get something into him but still, the thought of food right now makes him clench his teeth together in an attempt not to throw up right then and there.

“Fine,” Suguru sighs out, like he always knew he would, and Satoru laughs in victory. “But get off me,” Suguru complaints when Satoru jostles him so much in the process that his stomach turns again.

He shoves him off, and pretends not to see Satoru’s pout.

“Lead the way,” he gruffly tells Satoru. “And if you take more than two minutes deciding what you want at the shop I’m going to leave,” he then threatens, even though they both damn well know he won’t.

He would never just walk away from Satoru.

“They have their menu online, I’ll just decide on the way,” Satoru says, his nose buried in his phone to concoct the most revolting combination of toppings, no doubt.

By the time they arrive at the little shop, Satoru is still furiously muttering under his breath, clearly not at all decided on what he wants to order and Suguru sighs. He orders first—just a crepes with a little bit of chocolate for the taste—and by the time Satoru is done he has already finished his crepes.

“Knew you’d wait for me,” Satoru says with a way too satisfied grin and Suguru laments the fact that he didn’t just walk away, especially when he sees the monstrosity Satoru is carrying.

The toppings are all wobbling dangerously and Suguru can already see them all falling down, but Satoru chomps down on them without a care in the world. It would be nauseating but the food did help to settle Suguru’s stomach somewhat and at least the vile taste is gone from his mouth.

Now all that’s left is his exhaustion and the aching side, which is a win in his book, even when Satoru bumps right into him, making pain shoot up his ribcage.

Satoru munches on, but his eyes are fixed on Suguru over the rim of his glasses, intense and knowing, and Suguru quickly looks away.

“What?” he still asks and Satoru hums.

“You’re not okay,” he simply says once he demolished his crepes and licks his fingers. “You need to see Shoko?”

Suguru wants to say no, wants to pretend that he’s just as invincible as Satoru but the throbbing in his side is proof that he’s not.

“Probably,” he finally admits and Satoru simply nods.

Suguru somehow always expects him to turn away from him when he admits things like that, because he cannot keep up with Satoru, but it never happens.

“Then let’s go,” he easily says, dragging Suguru along by his arm but he’s more careful about it, clearly trying not to jostle Suguru too much.

Sometimes, Suguru doesn’t know how to handle his kindness at all.

~*~*~

“I’m thinking cake today,” Satoru says, stretching his back lazily as if they didn’t just put down a Grade One curse and Suguru has to press the back of his hand to his mouth to not throw up.

He swears they taste worse with every day.

Suguru mutely shakes his head because there is no way he’s going to be able to keep cake—or anything, really—down but Satoru has turned away from him and conveniently doesn’t see.

“This way, my friend!” he yells out and simply walks off into a specific direction.

He must have scoped out the place before they even came here, Suguru thinks with despair, and he plays with the thought of simply letting Satoru walk away without following him and instead returning home immediately, to curl up in his bed, hoping the nausea will pass.

Before he’s even done imagining that scenario his feet started to walk on their own, and it’s decidedly not into the direction of home, but after Satoru.

Suguru briefly closes his eyes but then gives in.

“You’re so selfish, Satoru,” he mutters and Satoru flips him off for it.

Suguru really has to learn to not go along with every single one of Satoru’s whims but he knows that today is not that day.

“The cake is supposed to be so good, though,” Satoru says, slowing down so Suguru can fall into step next to him. “You’ll see, you’ll like it.”

Suguru doubts that very much because the taste of vomit and shit is still on his tongue but he doesn’t tell Satoru that.

“You’ll rot your teeth away by the time you hit twenty if you’re not careful,” Suguru mumbles and Satoru shrugs.

“It’ll give Shoko something to do,” he says with a wide grin and bumps their shoulders together. “You think we should bring her a slice as well?”

“Might as well,” Suguru sighs out because Shoko is stuck at school more days than not and she’d probably enjoy some cake.

“Great. It’s your treat then,” Satoru mischievously says and then runs off before Suguru can slap him over the head for it.

Suguru follows much slower, his stomach still too upset for anything even remotely to running but of course Satoru lets him catch up.

The cakes do look good, when they finally make it there, and Suguru has to admit that his stomach settles somewhat after eating a slice. It definitely settles enough for him to argue with Satoru for close to half an hour over what cake to bring Shoko only to pay for an entire ensemble of slices.

“Next time it’s your treat,” Suguru grumbles because he doesn’t quite understand how it came to this but Satoru only grins that devastatingly beautiful smile he has and Suguru knows that they’ll have this exact same fight next time as well.

He pointedly doesn’t think about the fact that there definitely will be a next time because it would be akin to admitting just how weak he is to every one of Satoru’s whims.

There could be worse people to be weak to, though, Suguru thinks as Satoru hangs off his shoulder even while they walk.

~*~*~

“Rise and shine, grumpy!” Satoru yells as he barges into Suguru’s room without even knocking.

“Go the fuck away,” Suguru mutters into his pillow and pulls the blanket more firmly around him.

It’s one of their rare days off and Suguru intended to spend it in bed, sleeping to his heart’s content but clearly Satoru has different plans.

“Nope,” Satoru sing-songs and flops down on top of him.

Suguru is glad the blanket is hiding his face, because he’s sure it must be bright red. Satoru is in his bed and Suguru shouldn’t even be thinking about this.

“Yes,” Suguru gruffly gives back but of course it has no effect on Satoru.

“We have plans for today,” Satoru informs him and pokes his head through the blanket.

“Yes,” Suguru agrees. “And those plans involve staying in and sleeping. I’m not leaving this room and I am definitely not leaving this room to get more sweets. Go on your own.”

“Aw, Suguru, are you a grumpy person in the morning? That’s adorable,” Satoru laughs out.

Suguru has to bite his tongue because ‘You’re adorable’ is not a good comeback to that and so he instead opts to roll over in an attempt to shove Satoru off the bed.

It fails, of course, and when Satoru worms his way under the blanket Suguru surrenders to his fate.

“What?” he snaps out when Satoru won’t stop staring at him and Suguru realises that he must have pocketed his glasses before he slipped into bed. He tries not to think too hard on that, because it makes his heart do funny things, to think about how Satoru intended to do this all along.

“We’re going out. There’s a place I want to check out,” Satoru declares and his voice leaves no room for argument, though Suguru still tries.

“I am sick and tired of checking out more places,” he grumbles.

“Nah, you’ll love this one,” Satoru says with utmost conviction and it’s intriguing enough for Suguru to raise an eyebrow.

“Oh, will I now?”

“Yep,” Satoru immediately says. “But—you’ll have to get up,” he then says and Suguru has a split second to notice the mischievous sparkle in his eyes before he’s being shoved off the bed.

“Ouch, Satoru, what the hell,” he wheezes out, his side aching slightly from the impact with the ground and when he looks up at Satoru, he sees him sitting up in his bed, blanket pulled around himself and he looks so cosy and adorable that Suguru wants to do something stupid, like reach out and hug him or maybe even kiss him.

He looks away instead.

“We’re on a time table, here, so get your ass going. We’ll be leaving in fifteen.”

“This is worse than going on a mission,” Suguru grumbles under his breath but he gets up and leaves for the bathroom.

He doubts Satoru will let him crawl back into bed and the sooner he goes along with whatever nonsense Satoru has planned the earlier he’ll be back in his own room.

They are on their way to the city thirteen minutes later and Satoru looks way too pleased by that. Suguru really is too weak when it comes to him.

“Where are we going?” Suguru asks when they continue to walk for longer than he expected and by now his stomach is grumbling a little.

He wonders if the sweets he’s surely going to have to ingest soon are going to upset his stomach if he eats them first thing in the morning, but he probably should have thought about that earlier. It’s way too late now.

“You’ll see,” Satoru cryptically says and Suguru sighs.

“You’re a menace,” he tells him and Satoru simply grins at him.

Suguru wants to trace that grin with his fingers. Or maybe even his lips.

“If the food is not good, I’ll be leaving immediately,” Suguru grumbles out, tearing his eyes away from Satoru.

“Who said anything about food?” Satoru gives back and Suguru frowns at him.

“You said we’re checking out a place. When you say that it always means food!”

“Not today,” Satoru grins and then suddenly stops without warning. “Shit, you didn’t have breakfast yet. Wait here.”

Between one blink and the next he’s gone, and Suguru wonders if anyone ever told him to not needlessly teleport to places. Probably not, though, and even if—it’s not as if Satoru is going to listen to that.

Suguru waits for less than five minutes before Satoru appears next to him again, sandwiches in his hands.

“Here you go.” He shoves one at Suguru and he notes with surprise that it’s his favourite.

“Thank you.”

“Sure thing,” Satoru easily says and then drags Suguru along the path once more.

They banter for the rest of the walk, until Satoru finally comes to a stop and expectantly looks at Suguru. But the sight in front of him makes Suguru speechless.

“This is a flea market,” he finally says. “For books.”

“Yes,” Satoru agrees as if it should be obvious, and it kind of should be with all the books around but—

“You don’t like books. You don’t even read.”

“But you do,” Satoru says, as if that is explanation enough, as if it’s as easy as that, and Suguru turns towards him.

“Why?”

“Because I keep pestering you with things I want to do after missions, so I thought this is only fair.”

Suguru opens his mouth, closes it, takes a deep breath and then tries again.

“It helps though,” he admits. “What you do after missions. The food.”

He’s not sure how to explain it to Satoru in a way that doesn’t make him worry for the foreseeable future but when Satoru’s grin turns into something soft, Suguru knows he doesn’t have to.

“I know,” he simply says and Suguru blinks at him.

“How?”

“You get this—look that only lifts after we ate something,” Satoru explains and reaches out to touch his fingers to the corner of Suguru’s mouth, before he moves up to brush them under his eyes. “Your eyes get all pinched and the corners of your mouth turn down. And you lose colour. They don’t taste good, the curses, do they?”

“They don’t,” he whispers out, completely caught off guard that Satoru notices these things about him.

“I thought some sweets might help,” Satoru says and scratches the back of his head as if he’s embarrassed all of a sudden. “Don’t get me wrong, the sweets help me replenish energy as well but it’s not as if I couldn’t just eat at home. But you don’t, I know that. You go straight to bed and then you feel worse when you get up, so I thought—”

“I’m in love with you,” Suguru blurts out because he’s an idiot and in love and he cannot handle this side of Satoru at all.

He’s not used to someone paying this much attention to him, and then doing things for him. It’s all Satoru’s fault, really.

Satoru blinks at him and right about now Suguru really wishes he knew how to teleport as well, because being anywhere else would be preferable right now.

At least until a blinding smile breaks out on Satoru’s face and suddenly Suguru can breathe again.

“I should hope so,” he says like the insufferable brat he is, “because I’m not doing these things for just anyone, you know.”

His voice speaks of confidence but Suguru knows him better than that. The minute shaking in his fingers when Suguru reaches out to thread their fingers together speak a different language after all.

“Thank you, Satoru,” Suguru says, smiling brightly at him with his heart beating fast in his chest and he loves to see the faint flush on Satoru’s face.

“Yeah, yeah,” Satoru stutters, clearly caught off guard but then he tightens his grip on Suguru’s hand, determination in his gaze. “Just, in case it wasn’t clear, I’m in love with you, too.”

“The books might have given you away,” Suguru teases him and proceeds to drag him onto the market, not letting go of his hand at all.

Satoru complaints the entire time they spend on the market, just like Suguru usually complains the entire time after a mission when they go get something sweet to eat, but Satoru doesn’t pull his hand away once, not even when Suguru would need two to check out a book.

And Suguru wouldn’t have it any other way.

[joyfulladywarrior]

Dark Rhaenyra and Visenya ABO au. There will be a lot of time skips.

In this au, Aemma gave birth to Visenya two years after giving birth to Rhaenyra. Also she gave birth to more children who mysteriously (cough*otto*cough) died when they were babies. Rhaenyra and Visenya were the only daughters she had. Still Viserys still wanted his heir so they kept trying. The same thing happened and Viserys agreed to have Aemma cut open for the baby and baby Baelon dies.

Aemma's death triggered Rhaenyra to present as an alpha which was considered an abomination according to the seven which Alicent used as an excuse to cover her visiting Viserys at night and not helping Rhaenyra with her grief. Alicent was Rhaenyra's first love so now Rhaenyra was grieving her mother, brother, and her first love with only Visenya for company.

Visenya grows resentful at the people of Westeros who call Rhaenyra an abomination and at her father who is doing nothing to stop them. When Rhaenyra was named heir, Visenya knew that Viserys just didn't want Daemon on the throne and she vowed to play the game of thrones right to keep her sister heir. After Viserys decided to marry Alicent, Rhaenyra felt betrayed and Visenya took this chance to make sure Rhaenyra understands that the hightowers are dangerous (also Visenya was developing feelings but this will come later). They both started to use the same weapons the hightowers use. They would appeal to Viserys' weakness and tell him what he wants to hear but at the same time give him ideas and make them seem like he thought of them. They made sure to hire a lot of ladies in waiting from almost every house in Westeros with age appropriate girls. They used the girls to spread rumors about Alicent (come on she was Rhaenyra's servant and she becomes a queen. no one found that sketchy?). Mostly how she whored herself to the king before they got married (almost what really happened). They also made sure to spread rumors about how Aemma was cut open but those were quieter than Alicent's rumors. Otto was starting to get worried and restless about this situation and he started to fall out of favor with a lot of houses even after Aegon was born. He had thought that Rhaenyra was easier to control compared to Daemon and she didn't make anything easy for him.

At Aegon's second nameday, the queen was attacked and almost killed. All the witnesses and the hired assassins were paid to point at Visenya. Otto had hoped that if he got rid of Visenya, he could cripple Rhaenyra's growing power. Viserys was furious that his daughter tried to kill his wife and hadn't listened to anyone who tried to defend Visenya. He decided to exile Visenya outside of Westeros. What he didn't count on was Rhaenyra taking her sister's side. Viserys gave Rhaenyra an ultimatum; either she goes with her sister to exile and give up her crown or she agrees with his decree and stay his heir. In a move that surprised everyone (only surprised Viserys really), Rhaenyra decided to leave Westeros with Visenya.

Rhaenyra and Visenya leave with Syrax and Cannibal (the reason why Viserys thought that Visenya did try to kill Alicent. everyone is scared of the type of person who can tame the wild dragon). They married in the tradition of house Targaryen and started building an empire that rivals Westeros in trade and reputation. They also had 7 children (including the Velaryon boys but with different hair and eye color).

When Daemon heard about the new Valyrian empire that is being built, he and Laena discussed the possibility of moving there because while they had each other and the girls, a Targeryan can't survive alone in this world.

I'm running out of ideas at this point but Viserys will realize at the end that Visenya was innocent and that the Hightowers can't be trusted. Also, I'm a huge Lucemond fan but for this story Luke will end with a one of the men of his harem.

[cookinguptales]

Related to that last rant:

Nandor and Guillermo both have extreme control issues, though they manifest in different ways, and they're both going to keep fucking up their lives until they can find a way to cede that control to each other in healthy ways!

Nandor used to be in control of his own country, but he doesn't want to be in charge anymore! He's become the peacemaker of the group, strangely enough, and he plays at being in control of the house but he's always much happier when he cedes that control to someone else -- especially Guillermo. Every person in that house already knows that Nandor no longer has the heart for tyranny (Laszlo was especially blunt about it) but the problem is that Nandor doesn't know who he is if he's not some kind of dictatorial warlord.

(He's Guillermo's guy wife, clearly, but he's still figuring out that he really, really likes taking care of Guillermo right back.)

Nandor's really struggling with giving up control (in the household, in the council, in the vampiric community) if just because he doesn't know what the alternative is, and that uncertainty frightens him. And that's the real control issue. He's afraid of change because then he can't control what goes on in his life! He's afraid of his relationship changing with Guillermo because he can't control the direction it will go! Guillermo makes him uneasy, if interested, because Guillermo is the one thing he can't control at all!

It excites him but it also terrifies him and that guy needs to learn to let go and enjoy the ride!

And then on the other side you have Guillermo, who has more of a nurturing kind of control issue? He's taken care of these vampires for over a decade and he knows how quickly everything goes to shit without him. It's given him a little bit of a savior complex, but he also desperately needs to be needed.

It's sort of egotistical because he always believes that he knows better than everyone else what the household needs, and he believes no one can do these things better than he can. He's surrounded by idiots, so he isn't entirely wrong, but he isn't entirely right, either. He isn't always correct when it comes to what's best for everyone around him (and his tendency to try to manipulate the vampires is very irritating to them) but the bigger issue is burnout. Guillermo thinks no one can do these things like he can (see: his issues with Topher) so he won't let anyone help him. He just takes on more and more and more responsibility until he runs himself into the ground.

For the most part, the vampires let him do this. But in The Wedding, you could really see the logical conclusion to this problem and even they were starting to worry. We'd seen Guillermo do that kind of thing before -- like when he wouldn't allow himself to sleep when the assassins were coming because he assumed that if he ever took his eye off the vampires, they'd die. But we hadn't quite seen him destroy himself to that extent before, and even Nandor had to acknowledge that he was driving him too hard.

The problem is that... like... Guillermo will literally just keep taking on responsibilities until he collapses. He'll say "well, no one else can do this right" so he won't accept any help or admit defeat. He has this almost pathological need to be needed, but that's a manifestation of a control issue, isn't it? He feels like if he drops the reins for even a second, everyone he loves will get hurt.

It's not healthy, Guillermo! You need to learn to take breaks and ask for help! They love you now! They'll probably do it! Even Nadja was sticking up for you in The Wedding!

Besides, you can see his rising resentment towards them, which is fair because they treat him like shit but also unfair because they didn't actually ask him to do most of what he does. Many of Guillermo's responsibilities (especially his daytime ones) seem to be self-imposed, and his protective instincts definitely are. He runs the household so efficiently that they don't even seem to realize how much he does for them, which shows that he's a great familiar but has also allowed them to take him for granted. That's hurtful to him, but he also hasn't demanded respect until very, very recently.

I want Nandor to allow himself to let go of his need to be a figurehead and I want Guillermo to allow himself to let go of his need to have the real power in the household. Neither one of them actually has to run things here, and they're making themselves miserable. I think if Nandor allows himself to serve Guillermo a little bit for once and if Guillermo allows himself to accept that help, they'll both be a lot happier.

They both need a vacation. :') A real one, not the year-long disaster we had between s3 and s4. Come on, guys, let yourself lean on someone for once and admit that you don't have all the answers.