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toxicanonymity · 4 days ago

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the air cools

2.5k words, raider Joel x f!reader

SUMMARY: A few loosely connected vignettes taking place throughout fall and winter, ending with a raider family Christmas. 🖤⛓️ 🌸🫛🐶👱‍♂️. My gift to those of you who love these characters. I love y'all so much. This is an 18+ blog.

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“What do you guys give each other for Christmas,” you asked Joel in early fall, secretly digging for a lead on what to get him for his birthday. It was bedtime and your head was on his bare chest.

“What makes ya think we celebrate Christmas?"

“Yeah I know, it’s a godless world," you conceded, "but it's an excuse to celebrate each other.”

Joel took a breath as though getting ready to speak, but you cut him off, “Don't say it”

“What?” He asked.

“something like,” (you lowered your voice slightly) "no one should celebrate me."

“Wasn't gonna,” Joel claimed.

“Then what were you gonna say?” You challenged him.

“I was gonna say…” he rolled you over and glanced down at your bare breasts before bringing his mouth to your neck. He murmured into your skin, “celebrate each other all the time.” He hiked up your leg, and dragged his lips from your neck to your ear to whisper, “celebrate each other all night if ya want.”

You giggled, then a rush of desire drowned out your amusement as his arousal swelled against you.

—--

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—--

Joel would never let the dog onto the bed. That's where he drew the line. The bed was Joel's domain. It was for you and him, period. He didn't even want the dog in the bedroom, because that was one step closer to the bed.

But one time, it was storming, and Bullet was scratching at the bedroom door. You slithered out of Joel's tight embrace and got out of bed. Joel kept snoring. You were going to take Bullet back to the living room and calm him down, but as soon as the bedroom door cracked open, the dog bolted over to a pile of laundry in the corner of the bedroom and started making a nest in it. You watched him circling and nosing the fabric for a few seconds until he settled in. He lowered his head to rest on his paws, and looked up hopefully.

You petted him, “Shhhh.” His tail was down, but he wagged it a little in what felt like a promise.

You left the door cracked open as if the dog had opened it himself. He was a very good boy all night. Even with loud claps of thunder, his whine stayed very quiet, and neither you nor Joel woke up. Bullet even went back to the living room unprompted once the storm quieted. You quietly washed the laundry the next day.

This happened a few more times, and Joel never found out, as far as you knew. Except for one time when he woke up before you and saw the tell-tale dent in the laundry, and, upon further inspection, some light orange hairs. Joel's nostrils flared only slightly, and he shook his head to himself. But he just shook out the clothes and never said anything.

Then, one day, Joel was in the trailer park down the hill, looking for supplies and assessing how dangerous the area was getting. In a trailer that wasn't burned too badly, he saw a sofa cushion with a little dent in it that reminded him of that dent in the laundry. He put the cushion under his elbow and later stashed it in a closet with some colder weather clothes he’d picked up for you throughout the year.

—---

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—---

“I hope he likes this,” You whispered to Joel, hoping Carter wouldn't hear you over the noise of whatever DIY project he was working on outside. You were sitting on the floor, holding a thick, weathered paperback in your hand.

“Lemme see,” Joel said, and you handed it to him.

He chuckled at the cover–a pirate embracing a lady from behind, both their hair windswept. Then he thumbed through the wrinkled pages, stopped at one, and his eyebrows shot up. “engorged member,” he mouthed and his face wrinkled.

“Hard cock,” you translated.

“heaving bosom…” he read.

“That's boobs,” you explained.

Joel closed the book as much as it would close, given the warped pages, and he handed it back to you. “M’sure he’ll like it,” Joel tried not to laugh.

“What?” You asked. “Don't you ever feel bad that he's alone?”

“It's a sweet thought, baby.”

“You didn't want me to write one myself, remember….”

“sure as hell didn't,” he agreed. “don't need to be writin’ about anyone else's engorged anything,” Joel said.

“wasnt gonna do anything graphic. I just thought it might be nice if the main character was a man, and the pirates are girls and guys.”

He couldn't help but wonder, was this the kind of filth you were thinking about when you went to bed early? He had trouble believing it. You knew you were his. But he still asked. “What else ya got? Any more books?”

Joel cocked his eyebrow and warned you, “Leave it.”

Your face heated up and your eyes shifted around. “Nothing like that,” you promised.

Joel studied your face and said, “yeah?”

Your eyes flitted to the floor and his jaw clenched. You cursed yourself for the dead giveaway.

He looked under the bed and pulled out a single, tattered paperback book. “What's this?” He asked before inspecting it.

“Nothing,” you said, with your whole upper body on fire. “Just something I was–”

Joel studied the front cover. It was a battle scene with a man posing valiantly with his shirt wrapped open. A piece of paper was haphazardly fastened to the cover with some kind of glue. The paper covered the man's face but his flowing hair still emerged from the left and bottom edges. The paper was beginning to curling off on that side, and the pencil was fading. Joel swallowed as he took in the drawing. A man from the neck up, complete with a bulging neck vein. Dark hair, dark eyes, a mustache, some scruff, and an unmistakable scowl.

Joel raised his eyebrows and rubbed his lips together.

“It's stupid,” you said and reached for it.

“This what ya read?” he asked as he opened the cover.

“No, I just–when you were gone for a night, I thought it could be-”

The title page, The General and the Girl, had “the general” crossed out and something scribbled above it. He squinted and braced for what he assumed would read "raider," but it didn't. “Killer,” it read. And he wasn't sure if that was better or worse.

“Hm,” Joel observed, then noticed “the” was crossed out too. The Killer and *his* Girl. He thumbed through a few more pages and you had crossed out inaccurate descriptions of both of you and then after the first chapter or so the annotations stopped.

Joel ran his thumb over the scrawled text, and you offered, “He only kills bad guys …”

He closed the book and handed it back to you without further discussion.

A sawing noise vibrated through the wall, followed by something crinkling.

Joel changed the subject back to Christmas. “You know what I think Carter could use?”

“What?”

“Somewhere nice to sleep.”

“He doesn't have one?” you never really thought about it, because Carter always made a point of bragging that he could sleep anywhere.

“How'd ya feel about him movin’ into the trailer?”’

“Really?” You asked.

“Safer for us, nicer for him…”

You smiled and he muttered, “c'mere. You're a good girl, sweet pea.”

You were relieved he didn't find your sketchbook.

—--

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—--

Christmas Eve

It was only afternoon, and you already felt like you wouldn't be able to sleep that night. You and Joel had made up a bed for Carter in the living room, which you barely used anyway. You made sure it was away from the leak. There was a quilt and a pillow. You even nailed a sheet between the kitchen from the living room to serve as a privacy curtain since there was no door. You slid the pirate book onto the shelf among the other books.

“We should do it all tonight,” you suggested.

Joel silently laughed at you, then shook his head no.“C’mon. Let's go for a walk,” he said. He didn't really care about the timing, except that he got a kick out of your enthusiasm. It was better than any gift he could've asked for.

After the sun set, Carter came up the hill. “Alright, I know Christmas is tomorrow, but I gotta give ya my present tonight.”

“Me too!” You agreed.

“Sweet pea,” Joel shook his head with a chuckle.

“Aw shoot,” Carter said unconvincingly. “I left the bird behind.” Joel had also shot two birds for the other men, and Carter brought them all down to the house to pluck. He sent both you and Joel down there to get the one you would share. Bullet trailed behind.

Joel poked around the storage area trying to buy Carter some time, then he grabbed the goose and when he came back outside bullet did a happy circle.

When you got back to the trailer, a flickering orange glow was visible in the window. Carter had set up a freestanding fireplace hearth in the corner of the kitchen. Joel didn't seem surprised. After all, Carter wouldn't do something like that without permission. But apparently he had hauled the heavy unit on his own, cleaned it out, and fitted the exhaust pipe to a hole he sawed in the wall. The job looked professional.

You had a cozy dinner in the kitchen and lingered around the table enjoying the warmth together while the men drank a spiced wine you made. When the fire died down, Carter announced he better head off to bed.

You and Joel looked at each other and Joel gave you the go-ahead nod toward Carter's new quarters. Joel's eyes sparkled as your face lit up.

With Carter almost out the front door, you said, “where are you going?” He turned around, and you pointed toward the end of the trailer. “Your bed’s in there.”

Carter looked at Joel, and Joel nodded. You grabbed him by the elbow and led him through the kitchen and held the sheet aside for him.

Carter took in the view, then looked back at Joel in case you had gone rogue. Joel nodded. “Might as well crash here, whenever ya want I mean.” Joel shrugged.

Carter tried to refuse, because he was committed to keeping an eye on things down at the house and keeping things under control. “Ain't no troublemakers down at the house these days,” Joel reasoned. “Rather ya keep an eye on this one,” he nodded toward you and pinched your chin.

“You got it, boss.” Carter didn't know what else to say. He and Joel shook hands and the look they shared told you it might as well have been a hug.

Carter went to bed in the newly improved space. Bullet went to sleep on the kitchen floor, right in front of the hearth, enjoying the heat that still radiated from the metal.

After enjoying a leisurely Christmas eve romp in which you tried not to be too loud, you and Joel settled in for bed. As you predicted, you weren't tired enough to sleep.

“Do you know the night before Christmas?” You asked Joel, snuggled into the crook of his arm.

He looked at the ceiling and thought. “Somethin’ ‘bout ma and pa wearin’ hats,” and you nodded encouraging him. He tried to continue, “And, uh…. mouse that can't hear nothin’?”

You giggled and buried your face in his arm, again trying not to be too loud. “What?” he asked.

“not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse,” you recited.

“You're gonna stir all night, ain't ya?” Joel asked. “‘less I tucker ya out,” he mused. He turned over, letting part of his weight onto you. He pressed soft kisses onto your neck, then chest, then slid his mouth to your breast and the pull of his lips made you whine. Soon, he became a shape under the sheets, a silhouette stirring between your legs.

He knew how to put you to sleep.

—--

Christmas Day

In the morning, you woke up to the smell of coffee. You dragged a paper bag out from under the bed. You'd drawn stars and trees on it in pencil and labeled it “J. Miller” Joel and Carter were already in the kitchen and there were presents wrapped in old newspaper and string.

You asked Joel to open his first but he refused, wanting to drag out your eagerness as long as possible.

Joel gave you an assortment of sweaters, just in time for the cold weather. Different colors and textures. Cozy and perfect. The last package he handed you wasn't as fluffy.

You carefully untied it and saw corduroy. You ran your hand over the ribs and the fabric was still smooth, however many years after it was made. You held up the garment and it was pants. He willingly gave you pants.

After a moment of silence, Joel mumbled “might not be *that* cold just yet, but–” Carter laughed at him.

You went and sat in Joel's lap and handed him his gift bag. He opened it and pulled out a thermal Henley, a cable knit sweater in decent condition aside from a few snagged threads. You suspected it might be a little tight on his arms, but he never seemed to mind.

The last thing in the bag was a spiral-bound notebook. Your sketchbook. He opened it and his face went serious as his eyes poured over every detail–sketches of him. Joel wiping his sweat with a rag, holding a wrench. Joel sleeping. Joel holding a figure that could only be you. His face softened and his jaw twitched as he studied that one. When he finally moved on to the next page, his face turned pink. He quickly closed the book and cleared his throat. “Sweet pea,” he laughed in faux admonishment. You could've given him that one in private, but you didn't want to tear anything out of the book.

“I drew what I like,” you shrugged, and kissed him on his burning cheek.

“You’re talented, baby,” he said. “Thank you.”

“Merry Christmas,” you wished him, and he kissed you on the forehead. “Merry Christmas, baby.”

“I'll make breakfast,” Carter offered.

“Oh. One more thing,” Joel said. “Can't forget the big guy.” Joel eased you off of his lap and stretched before going to the supply closet and retrieving the cushion with the little dip in it.

He plopped it into the floor and bullet came over and sniffed around it, then scratched at the fabric before settling into it.

“And,” Joel interrupted himself with a weak sigh. “As long as he don't get on the bed, when it’s rainin’ ya can bring it..” he nodded toward the bedroom.

You wrapped your arms tight around Joel and he cradled your head. “Alright,” he said. “I'm gettin’ hungry.”

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Thank you for reading 🖤🖤🖤

#joel miller x reader #joel miller fluff #raider!joel miller #toxicanonymity ☠️#raider!joel

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sugurizz · 1 year ago

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(Smut/NSFW; +18 - Minors DNI!)

Yuuta's body is made for nursing handjobs. He thinks it's embarassing but he cums buckets whenever he gets it. First time it happened to him was when you noticed the imprint in his grey sweatpants.

he acted coy at first. but the longer you caressed his length the needier he tugged on your collar.

"Oh babe please...take it off of for me.."

He didn't rest till he stripped you naked. Shamelessly grabbed your breast and brought it to his face as he stared dead in your eyes. almost as if he was challenging you to resist him.

He sucked it at once, moaning to the filling sensation in his mouth. his bulge got rock hard, begging for more touches. you leaned even closer for your bust to suffocate him. but instead his chest overflowed with desire. heaving violently as he kept suckling and kissing, biting and choking on you tits.

"oh fuck yeah mama, do it harder. Ahhh make it cum"

his baggy eyes glazed with lust, glossy lips swelling from his own saliva and "fuck"s coming out in the deepest moans.

he rolled his hips fevereshly, thrusting in your palm as his precum spurted in sticky loads.

"Ooh hunny...you're making me wet!!" He mischieviously bit your nipple, chuckling as he smirked like a brat.

he swinged you with one arm, threw you on top of him before pushing your thong to the side. "Now watch me make you squirt, babe." He closed his eyes shut and gave it a full speed, drilling back and forth in your engorged pussy.

He landed a painful smack on your ass, cheeks squiched against your bosom and bratty chuckles coming from under your chest.

"ohh mommy..your nipples are melting on my tongue...like honeyy."

he let out a loud "Fuck" drowning your hole in his viscous seed.

"hehe sorry babe...lost my mind a little..."

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alkali1 · 5 months ago

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Belly attendant

With the use of magic, your society had long ago relegated most childbearing duties to priests and priestesses of the various local fertility deities. Dedicated surrogates were able to carry vast numbers of children of all different fantasy races and gestation times, staying permanently pregnant and periodically birthing children in batches.

Your role in the temple is a vital one: you serve as the personal attendant to the temple's second highest ranking surrogate priestess, the beautiful elven woman Naia Springblossom. You're never away from her for longer than it takes to fetch her food or other objects, and spend most of your time in contact with her vast, active belly. You take care of all of the needs that the helplessly pregnant wood elf is unable to handle on her own, which is almost all of them.

You and your priestess are traveling back to your home temple from a meeting with the Archbishop. The immobile elf travels long distances in a plush palanquin, borne by magically animated golems. You're squeezed in with her, buried between the pile of soft pillows and the warm, heaving expanse of her womb. As Naia gets some rest, you snuggle and kiss the brown, lotion-scented orb, feeling the babies of all different shapes and sizes moving and kicking, jostling for space in her tightly-packed belly.

Feeling a wetness on your shoulder, you realize that the breast you're resting your head on has begun to leak. Each of her bosoms is the size of a blue-ribbon dairy cow's udder, and just as productive. The several gallons that she lactates per day are pumped and stored within the temple so they can be distributed to families to feed their newborns.

The uncomfortable fullness in her vast bosom and the sensation of wetness on her silken robe awakens Naia from her nap. As she rubs her eyes and yawns you greet her with kisses to the top of her belly. "Mmmmff... why did you let me sleep so long? My tits feel like overstuffed wineskins." she playfully complains. "You'd be even crankier if I woke you before you were ready" I reply, sitting up to pull the pump attachments down from the small chamber's ceiling. The palanquin quakes as she struggles to adjust her mountainous bulk, trying to situate herself comfortably in the pillow-lined box.

You suction the pumps onto her nipples and gently squeeze her to help get the milk flowing. She moans in relief, squeezing and rubbing her fat thighs together as her sensitive teats are suctioned and fondled. You massage her full breasts from the base, making sure she doesn't suffer from any clogged ducts. You can feel the movement in her belly intensifying, her brood responding to the stimulation with increased activity. Knowing exactly how much she craves intimate attention while being milked, you lean forward, squishing yourself into her sweaty cleavage to bring your head in range to plant a kiss on her plump, brown lips. She immediately grabs the back of your head and pulls you in close, parting your lips with her tongue. Pressed tightly against her belly, you know she can feel your rock-hard cock poking into her maternal swell.

The two of you passionately kiss and grope each other until the flow of milk from her enveloping udders starts to subside. You extricate yourself from the sweat-soaked cavern of her cleavage and pop the milking cups off her heavy udders. You take her fat nipple into your mouth and indulge in a taste of her sweet, rich milk. Lightly teasing her nipple with your teeth makes her gasp and moan. Staring at you with needy eyes, she beckons you over to her other side. You awkwardly climb around the immense bulk of her fertile swell and squeeze between her wide, ample butt and the chamber wall. She moans as you squeeze her always-sore shoulders, pressing and wiggling her fat hips against you. "Please..." she softly whimpers, and you know exactly what she's craving. Naia, having spent years bloated to utter helplessness with her surrogate brood, can't even come close to reaching her sensitively swollen pussy with her fat ass and turgid womb in the way. One of your most sacred duties is to keep her pleasured and satisifed, though you both sometimes enjoy teasing her, letting her squeeze a pillow between her legs while she begs and begs for you to satisfy the all-consuming ache in her dripping cunt.

"What does my poor, swollen broodmother need?" I tease.

"I need you," she whines, "Please, you know how I feel when I'm about to go into labor. "

You snake your hand down between her fat thighs, cupping and lightly squeezing her plump pussy mound. Your teasing makes her whimper and press hard against you, squishing your lower torso and hips against the wall and making your hard bulge press deeper into her soft cushion of a butt. You slip two fingers inside her dripping opening, varying your movements in and out of her while slowly increasing the tempo. When you can tell she's starting to get lost in the throes of pleasure you switch to pressing against her swollen clit, making circles around the sensitive nub with your fingers, then rubbing back and forth forcefully, eliciting stabs of pleasure that make her let out wordless vocalizations of bliss.

You feel that she's getting close, and ramp up the speed and pressure in preparation for putting her over the edge. "Cum for me, honey. My huge, perfect broodmother. Let all that pressure out." Her bucking hips smother you against the wall and her cunt soaks your arm with her cum as she cries out in pleasure.

You both relax in the afterglow, spooned together with your hand resting on her writhing womb. You never get tired of feeling the contrast between the light flutters of her smaller passengers and the thumping, uncomfortable kicks from the largest of her surrogate children, including an ogre, minotaur triplets, and a severely overdue centaur calf. Your bliss is interrupted as Naia is suddenly overcome with a massive contraction, making the whole palanquin seem to quake as her overfilled womb stretches and shifts.

"You really weren't kidding when you said you were about to go into labor. Please try to hold them in until we get home."

"Ooohh, I'm, *huff*, not quite at that point yet. We have some time until I start actively dilating. But send a message ahead to the temple, have them prepare the birthing pool." You spend the remainder of the ride snuggled together, Naia breathing through her strong, irregular contractions while you comfort her.

#`pregnant fantasy #hyperpregnancy #multiple pregnancy #pregnant fiction #hyperpreg #huge pregnant belly

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wroteclassicaly · 2 years ago

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Steve Harrington pounding you into the mattress while Glenn Frey’s ‘You Belong To The City’ plays in the background…

~*~

The faded blue of the music video on the television set, that casts light in the darkness of his bedroom.

“Fuck. Yeah, honey. Come on and take my big cock like a good girl.”

Your head is falling to the side, Steve’s messy strands tickling your forehead on every rough movement, nose nudging your cheek, sometimes your eyelashes, your limbs lathered in slippery sweat, the kind of perspiration that’ll stay heavy on your skin, not long after he’s spent and lighting his first post-sex cigarette, making you want to slide down between his legs and take up a permanent residence. His gold chain slaps at your heaving bosom, stubble bitten jaw nicking your jugular as he leaves his claim behind. His big palms are all over you, squeezing and pinching. Is this how you go out? So out of it and full of his massive size, that you can’t tell where he begins and you end. Only knowing that your mouths meet every other minute to share panting breaths and weak kisses that are just grazes of swollen lips.

His hairy knees ram into the backs of your thighs, dull balls pressing, he’s driving you further up the mattress on every single thrust, his hands reaching to pin yours beside your head. “Pussy is so fucking creamy, you should be ashamed of yourself for being this wet and ruining my brand new sheets.”

You watch his bushy chest drag your breasts and stimulate your nipples until your toes are curling, legs spreading impossibly wider. He’s encouraging further. “You tryna take me deeper? Holy shit, honey. You’re my little slut, aren’t you?”

A saxophone background track and sex with Steve Harrington should not be legal to indulge in at the sametime. Hell, you’d break every law, even if it wasn’t.

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growth-opportunities · 7 days ago

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Interventions with the Best of Intentions, pt. 1

[A/N] Hi all! This is sort of my first venture into long-form writing. I was inspired by a brief exchange with @biggerbagingos, so I'm sure he and anyone who follows him already knows where this is headed. Also, heads up, this is gonna deal with some extreme sizes, much bigger than what I usually write about. This is part one of probably three, maybe four if I decide to pad things out. No hard timeline but I hope this gets people excited for the future! Without any further ado...

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The routine was one that Tiffany’s friends now found to be all too familiar. When she got upset, the first thing she did was gather up her long, red hair and throw it over her shoulder. This part was expected take a few seconds as her voluminous hair could be a bit unruly and often fall in front of her pale, freckled face. Once it was done, she took a deep breath, as deep as she possibly could. A second hung in the air, a brief, momentary pause, just holding the breath inside her. Then, she shoved her face into the deep crevice, the ravine, the canyon that was her cleavage and let out a long, muffled scream. It was amusing, though they wouldn’t tell her so, to watch her heave her breasts from beneath far enough to put her head between them, but in this instance, the table she sat at provided a perfect ledge on which to rest her breasts, sparing her arms the herculean lift.

This scream was particularly deep, Valerie silently noted while sipping her bubble tea, sitting across from her buxom friend. The table was on the far edge of a small strip mall, far away from any prying eyes and with virtually no chance of anyone eavesdropping. Between the autumn air and the tea, a slight chill was creeping in. For a moment, Valerie wished she hadn’t cut her dark hair so short, feeling goosebumps spread over her neck. She drew her denim jacket tighter around her slender shoulders, glancing down at her watch. Having known Tiffany since before her gargantuan breasts had even thought about beginning to grow, she knew she could count the number of lung refills like counting the rings of a tree to figure out just how frustrated her friend was. By the time Tiffany finally emerged from her own bosom, her throat burned. Valerie took another sip of her drink, reaching across the table to grab Tiffany’s drink and offer it to her, pushing the straw against Tiffany’s lips.

“Jeez, Tiff. A four? You didn’t even scream that much when you got your homecoming dress.”

Tiffany groaned, pounding her fist against the table, sending a ripple through her bust. She snatched the cup from Valerie’s hand and took a big, angry swig, as angry as one can be when drinking a Cookies ‘n’ Cream milkshake. “That was different.” Though the drink helped, screaming had left her voice hoarse. She lifted her head just far enough to put her arms under her chin, her breasts making for a soft pillow underneath. “At least then I had someone I could yell at instead of just the vague idea of ‘my hormones’ or ‘my genetics’. And, in fairness to her, the seamstress did apologize. I can’t really blame her for not believing the measurements I sent in.” Tiffany blew a puff of air upward, pushing a few strands of her hair out of her face. “This is just…” Tiffany took another deep breath, as if she was about to aim for a five, only to let it out in a defeated sigh. “My fucking tits are already such a hassle, Val. I really don’t know if I can handle them getting much bigger. I’m gonna have to… I don’t know… carry them around in a wheelbarrow or something.”

Valerie let out a quick, wry chuckle. “Well, I’m sure you could find no shortage of guys and probably a good number of girls who would help push!”

Despite herself, Tiffany’s lips curled into a subtle smile. “I’m serious, Val! I really thought I was done growing and now… another growth spurt? My doctor told me I could literally double in size. I can’t even imagine that!” She fished one of her hands out from under her chin and lightly ran it over the upper swell of one of her tits, her oversized hoodie making them seem even softer.

“I’m already past conventional bra sizes, like, significantly. My boobs were big enough to get me out of running in gym class! Some girls are like ‘Ooh, look at me, I can almost fit half a beer bottle between my boobies’ but I could fucking bury a Stanley tumbler with room left over for another. For all of this-“ She smacked the side of her tit, the impact rippling across her bust like a waterbed. “to double? I’d struggle to reach my own nipples, Val! I already kinda do! Fuck, I’d be at least fifty percent tit. Maybe closer to seventy-five. It doesn’t help matters that I’m more suited to be the basketball than to play it.” No one in her family was particularly tall, but the growth and weight of Tiffany’s breasts had kept her at a notably short stature, only reaching five feet when standing on her tiptoes, a dangerous feat considering how front-heavy she was. Her backside had a pleasant curve to it as well, but it was completely overshadowed by the gargantuan bust sloshing in front of her.

Valerie reached out and put her hand on her friend’s elbow, trying her best to be comforting. “Hey, your body is going to do what it’s going to do. No sense in worrying too much. You’ll roll with the punches and, no matter what, you’ve got Ol’ Val sticking by your side.” Tiffany smiled at the nickname, ironic considering that Valerie was exactly one month younger.

Another sigh rolled out between Tiffany’s lips. “Yeah, yeah, you’re right! You’re right. I’m still me. I’m more than just my boobs. No matter how big they get, I’m still Tiffany.”

Valerie’s grin took on a mischievous undertone, her brown eyes shining, as she quickly moved around to the other side of the table. She nudged her friend with her elbow, dropping her voice to a low whisper. “And I know that having a pair of big, soft tits isn’t all bad, is it?” Valerie and Tiffany were very close and there were few secrets between the two. Valerie pressed her finger deep into the soft, accepting side of Tiffany’s breast. The busty girl yelped in shock, only getting one or two syllables into asking what Valerie thought she was doing before the words were interrupted by a keening whimper. Blush surged into Tiffany’s cheeks and she once again returned her face to her cleavage, this time in embarrassment and arousal rather than frustration. She made a half-hearted attempt to push Valerie away, but the way her friend wiggled her finger, playing with her breast, made it hard to think. “Hnnngg… V-val… Not here…”

An impish giggle rose from Valerie, only stopping to lean in and give her friend a quick peck on the cheek. “Just wanted to remind you that there are some upsides to these things. Remember that one night when we got drunk and you were fucking begging me so I just kept sucking and sucking and sucking and-“

Tiffany shot upright, nearly dragging her tits off the table. Her cheeks ached with blush, close to bruising. “VALERIE!” It was a barely intelligible squeak, but it got the point across, Valerie breaking into laughter. She draped her arm over her friend’s back, rubbing her shoulders.

“Easy, baby. Relax. I’m just teasing. We should probably head over to the book store before it gets too late, yeah? I’ve been waiting weeks for them to get more of the next book in the Amethyst cycle.”

The words went in one of Tiffany’s ears and out of the other without touching anything in between. The busty girl could barely concentrate. All she could think about was how it would feel to have her breasts sucked while being twice as big. She might actually lose her mind. Beneath her sweatshirt, her nipples stiffened and quivered. She swallowed. “H-huh? Oh, yeah, let’s uh… let’s get out of here.” She winced as she stood, feeling her breasts slide along the table, bracing herself for the impact when they finally slipped off the edge and slapped into her torso. The two of them took a few steps towards Valerie’s car (The Val-mobile, as she called it) only for Tiffany to stop, reaching out for her friend’s sleeve. “Hey, uh, you meant what you said, right? About sticking with me no matter how big I get?”

Valerie smiled bright, leaning over to kiss the top of her friend’s head. Their developments had led them in very different directions; Tiffany grew outward while Valerie grew upward, nearly a foot taller than her friend and a modest handful on her chest, though anyone would look small next to Tiffany. “Of course, cutie. I love you. Always have. I’m with you no matter how big you get.”

A hint of panic crept into Tiffany’s voice. “But… But what if they don’t stop? And I’m just a fucking gross titty monster and I can’t even lift them anymore and I take up an entire room with just one of my boobs and-“

Valerie’s warm hands settled on Tiffany’s cheeks, tilting her up to look at her taller, slender friend. “No. Matter. How. Big. Okay? I mean it. You’re my best friend and that’s never, ever going to change.”

Tiffany nodded, letting her eyes close while she took a deep breath to center herself. When she let it out, she looked back up at Valerie. There was silence for a moment, a strange tension between them. Tiffany opened her mouth only to close it again. On her second attempt, she got it.

“M-more like breast friend, am I right?”

Valerie blinked before busting out in laughter. “You’re such a goofball, Jesus. See? Room-filling boobs aren’t going to take away that razor wit. Now, can we go already? I have to know what Iskandar and Alexan will do when they get to Drosenia. I swear to god, if there’s only one bed at that inn, I am going to flip.”

Now it was Tiffany’s turn to laugh. “Only you, Val. Only you.” The two chatted about the series and the improbably tense situations the characters found themselves in as they trudged to the car. No matter how many times she did it, Tiffany had yet to find a way to climb into the passenger seat gracefully, flopping down into the seat and letting her bust wobble on her chest. She was the only one who ever rode in that seat, so Valerie just left the seatbelt extender in place, letting Tiffany buckle it over her vast expanse of tit. She needed the extender even with it slightly inside her cleavage. The sensitivity of her bust reared its head once again as the engine turned over, sending vibrations through her body. As Valerie began to pull out of the parking spot, Tiffany mumbled a slightly embarrassed thanks for her friend’s care and understanding. Valerie didn’t need to reply, simply patting her friend’s thigh as the two hit the road.

The window was cool against Tiffany’s cheek as she stared wistfully out of it. She was still a bit apprehensive about growing – How could she not? – But at least, now, she felt a bit more secure in what the future could hold. As long as she had Valerie, someone to support her and care for her, nothing else mattered. And who knows? Maybe Val was right. Maybe there could be upsides to being so big.

#breast expansion #breast growth #inconvenient size #inconvenient growth #long-form writing #IBI

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comatosebunny09 · 1 month ago

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tw: profanity, blood, torture, implied minor character death notes: up late again. i started thinking about a guard dog au again and spat this out.

“You still let that sick fuck control you!” Carlos spits. Voice gurgles, blood puddling in his throat. For someone on the edge of death, he sure likes to talk. “He’ll kill you when he no longer finds use for you, you stupid bitch!”

You ignore his monologuing, more concerned with the speck of crimson flying from his mouth to stain your shirt collar.

You fret over it, smearing the bloodstain with your thumb. Your brow ticks as you attempt to rub it clean. No dice.

You really like this shirt.

Sucking your teeth, you twirl the tactical knife in your hand before driving it into Carlos’ thigh. He screams bloody murder. You wince; you’ve never known a man to cry like that. He’s not the one with blood on his favorite shirt.

You pop up from your spot crouched before him. Wipe your hands on your thighs, heaving a sigh. You circle the chair Carlos is bound to, deceptively gentle as you clasp his shoulders once you're behind him.

“I no longer have a use for you,” you whisper, squeezing his arms with a reassuring smile. You bend to ear level, Carlos’ blubbering simpering as your lips graze the shell of it. “But they might.”

He follows your line of sight. You wordlessly signal to two brutish-looking men Sylus left at your disposal, framing the door.

You pat Carlos’ shoulder. “Good luck,” you say, stepping around him and between the hulking guards. You tell them to have fun, tossing your bloodied gloves over your shoulder on your way out.

The steel door slams shut behind you. You straighten the lapels of your blazer. A muffled scream erupts from the room you just exited. They didn’t waste any time getting to work.

Carlos is in good hands, you think, exiting the warehouse. You throw your leg over your motorcycle seat after you turn it on, stuffing your helmet onto your head. You’ve got some debriefing to do. They can handle the rest.

—

The twin doorknobs are cold in your palms.

You exhale as various masculine voices filter through the door leading to Sylus’ office. He’s in a meeting discussing things you can’t be bothered to follow. You don’t want to interrupt, yet the twins told you he wanted to see you immediately upon your return.

You look down at your clothes. They’re bloodied and streaked red. Damn Carlos. Who knew someone could bleed so much? You can’t go in there like this. Not when you have a reputation to uphold.

Shutting your eyes, you focus on controlling your breaths. Home in on a flicker of energy collecting in your solar plexus. You tap into it, a stream of it steadily bleeding out. It pulses through you, a cooling sensation wading over your skin. You don a glamor, a veil to hide your disheveled state until you can shower and change your clothes.

With a surge of confidence, you push through the heavy doors, a cool gust of wind kissing your molten skin. Six sets of eyes settle on you. The conversing peters to dull murmurs as you make your way to your boss, your heels clicking soundly over the marbled floors and a smile cresting over your lips.

He’s sitting down at the head of the table. Tapping his temple in mock contemplation. He seems annoyed if the tense line of his shoulders is anything to go by. Maybe some good news will help lighten his load. You angle yourself to earshot, your torso brushing his shoulder. You get a whiff of the warm scent he carries. Try not to let it deter you from your mission.

“It’s done,” you murmur. He smirks in your periphery, glancing at you with eyes the color of a wildfire. It’s a brief exchange, enough to warm you from the inside out. He dismisses you with a waggle of his fingers.

You try to ignore how your heart swoops when you step back, a hand over your bosom as you bow tersely. You’re halfway to the door when he calls to you, stopping you in your tracks.

“Make sure you clean up before your show this evening. Wouldn’t want to scare off our guests now, would we, darling?”

You stiffen. Heat prickles your cheeks. Of course, he can see through your glamor. The aether core embedded in his eye allows him to do so.

The businessmen sprinkled around the table exchange hushed words, unsure of what Sylus is on about. You look impeccably polished to them. You bow again, tamping down your bashfulness. You’re mortified. “Understood.”

You exit the room, mouth drawn into a rigid line. If no one else, you never want to look unkempt in front of your boss.

#just musing #sylus of course #sylus x reader #sylus x you

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alittlerobin · 7 days ago

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Elbert/Kate/Alfons

tags: hurt/comfort; established relationship, m/m/f word count: 1.4k

The last thing she wanted to do was leave Elbert there on his own, but the moment she heard the faintest of falling footsteps out in the hall, she rushed out of their bedroom.

She was clad only in her nightgown, her feet bare as she raced down the stairs, heart pounding. It was hours past midnight, yet dawn was still too far off to begin chasing the darkness away. The thought of leaving Elbert alone in their room for even a second, shivering and gasping with tears in his eyes, it wrenched her heart into pieces…

But on nights like this, she didn’t always know what to say, how to calm him or distract him. Not like how Alfons did, at least. She was still learning, still struggling to find the right words or actions, uncertain if a thought would be triggering or comforting, uncertain of everything.

She stopped on the bottom of the stairs, feet frozen from the chill and the panic, and then her eyes met Alfons’s ashen-grey gaze as he returned from one of his nights on the town. “Al, he’s–”

Alfons’s signature grin dropped immediately.

“He’s not hurt,” she stammered in her rush to explain, the words almost choking in her throat. “He just had a bad nightmare, and I can’t… I don’t know what to do. Please hurry.”

At that, Alfons swept across the hall with unusual urgency. His jacket billowed like raven’s wings behind him and he paused only briefly at the top of the stairs, waiting for her to join him. She grabbed his hand, using it to steady her own aching heart, and together they ran back to the bedroom.

“Al…” Elbert’s voice sounded beautifully broken as they both stepped into the room. The low light from the single lamp she’d lit illuminated his skin, making the sweat beading on it glisten.

Alfons’s hand slipped out of hers as he clicked his tongue, crossing the room. “Tsk, tsk, my dear Elbie. You should’ve seen the look on Kate’s face when she ran down to greet me. Absolutely terrified.”

“I… I’m sorry…” Elbert’s voice was softer than a whisper and his golden lashes fluttered shut, the tears clinging to them sparkling like diamonds.

“You don’t need to apologize,” Kate replied, sitting back down on their bed. She shifted as close to him as she could without touching him, letting him be the one to initiate contact when he wanted to.

“She’s right, you know,” Alfons sighed. “But if it makes you feel better, you can go shout your sorry’s from the rooftop.”

Elbert opened his eyes, the oceanic blue of them going wide. “...Does that help?”

“For you, I very much doubt it.” A smile was back on Alfons’s lips, but it was softer, more genuine than the one he usually had plastered on. He slipped out of his shoes, removing his coat and his tie, but when he made to shed the rest of his clothes, Elbert reached out and took hold of his wrist to stop him.

“Don’t… Leave it on, please. I…”

She knew why. And so would Alfons.

Elbert had mentioned before that the mix of cologne, booze, and god knew what else that clung to Alfons after his nights out were a comfort. Because when that profane scent was around, it meant Alfons was around. And when Alfons was with him, no one would come and make him suffer any further on those nights…

Alfons heaved out an exaggerated sigh, but he didn’t protest. He peeled off his gloves and then pressed a knee into the mattress, boxing Elbert in between him and Kate.

The second he was within reach, Elbert turned into him, dropping his forehead against Alfons’s chest. The rapid rhythm of Kate’s heart slowed and she sighed with relief, the tension dropping from her shoulders as Alfons’s arms wound around Elbert to comfort him.

“You’re such a fool. Since our robin has a far more ample bosom, I'd recommend burying yourself in her chest rather than mine.”

There, just like that. Alfons always seemed to be able to drive that pain away with his nonchalance and depravity that might’ve seemed like some ill-advised joke, yet always succeeded in turning thoughts from gloom to scandal or exasperated amusement. Early on, she might’ve scolded him. Yet now she smiled, seeing a hint of the same expression gently touch the corners of Elbert’s beautiful lips.

“Both…” Elbert whispered, his long and elegant fingers clinging to the fabric of Alfons’s vest. “I want both…”

“So greedy. Whatever will we do with you.” Alfons tutted, faking a scolding, and his gaze caught Kate’s. “Come on, little robin, you heard him. He wants both.”

As if she could ever deny him. Either of them. She moved closer, closing the distance between them and gingerly touching Elbert’s back. At the same time, Alfons’s fingers stroked over the nape of Elbert’s neck, light and soothing, like he was petting a kitten. However he didn’t lean down to whisper, casting no illusions. It was merely a touch, with no magic, no curse behind it.

And as soon as Alfons’s fingers pulled away, Elbert turned, slipping into Kate’s open arms instead. She craned her head down and pressed a kiss to the top of his head as Elbert nuzzled into her chest, his arms winding around her waist. She stroked her fingers through his hair, massaging his scalp and taking the role of whispering to him softly, reassuring he was safe there between them. No more bad dreams, no more nightmares. Not for forever, but for tonight. For the rest of tonight, he had them both there to protect him.

His grip gradually loosened, his beautiful lashes fluttering shut. And within a few minutes, his breathing was steady and calm, lulled into a far kinder sleep.

The last of the tension inside her melted away and she swallowed a sob of relief, glancing up. The expression on Alfons’s face was so gentle and sweet, it made her heart ache–but this time, with utter joy.

“Thank you…” she whispered, threading her fingers through Elbert’s golden hair once again. “I feel like I’d be so lost without you…”

After a long, silent moment, Alfons closed his eyes, as if afraid to meet her gaze. When he spoke, it was with an unusual strain to his voice. “For so many years, on nights like this, I tried to offer him comfort, tried to give him an escape. At times, on those days when I hadn’t been able to help him evade those vile servants… I offered him illusions, but he always broke out of them so quickly…”

Alfons opened his eyes, looking into hers briefly, before dropping his gaze to their peacefully sleeping Elbert. He reached out, picking up a lock of Elbert’s silken hair, and twisted it between his fingers. “He very rarely accepted my help, preferring to suffer like he believed he deserved. And he never sought out comfort or asked me on his own. The fact that he does so now…”

Alfons leaned down, pressing one kiss to Elbert’s golden hair and another to the back of Kate’s hand. “You may feel lost at times like these, but you’re the one who saved us both. Never forget that, my dear.”

A heat painted her cheeks and melted all the way down to her heart. “I couldn’t have done it without you, Al.”

“Of course not.” Like a shadow passing over a mirror, a haughty grin danced its way back across Alfons’s lips. “All three of us are hopeless fools. We need each other, or we’ll completely fall apart. Isn’t that disgustingly tragic?”

Kate laughed, then bit her lip to stifle it, not wanting to rouse Elbert. “I love you both.”

“Yes, yes, I’m aware. Be sure to tell him in the morning when he wakes up. I’m sure he’ll be eager to thank us by ravishing us both.” With a large and very much put-on yawn, Alfons nestled into the bed and draped an arm around Elbert’s waist. He shut his eyes, muttering out a casual good night.

With a smile, Kate tugged the blankets over all three of them and laid down as well. She cradled Elbert’s head against her chest and found Alfons’s hand under the sheets, lacing their fingers together. As she drifted off to sleep only minutes later, she swore she felt his thumb gently stroking over the back of her hand.

This scene was the furthest thing from what she could’ve imagined happening when she was first brought to Crown Castle. But now… she wouldn’t wish for it to be any other way.

#ikevil #ikemen villains #ikevil fanfic #ikevil fanfiction #alfons sylvatica #ikevil alfons #ikevil elbert #ikevil kate #elbert greetia #I need an Elbie/Kate/Alfons route in canon so bad

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nyctoaerah · 8 months ago

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⋆♱⋆RETRIBUTION CH: 5

⋆♱⋆SYPNOSIS You found yourself stripped of your immortality, a punishment for daring to flout the edicts laid down by your father. Your transgressions? Two-fold. First, the grave sin of disobedience, and Secondly, the cardinal offense of falling irrevocably in love with your Lady in waiting. In your father’s eyes, the sanctity of your divinity was tarnished by a same-gender relationship, a concept that he vehemently repudiated as aberrant and abhorrent. Such unforgivable love, he pontificated, dulled your goddess-like essence. Thus he used his powers and casted you adrift into a parallel universe suffused with curses and sorcerers whose love aren't really the healthy type of love, a punishment to show you that ‘Love’ isn’t all about sunshine and rainbows

⋆♱⋆WARNINGS Gore, Slow Burn Yandere, Love Percentage Au. Pseudo Incest on Choso’s Case. Confusing Bullshit. Sexual themes, Biological Incest. Unedited.

⋆♱⋆PAIRINGS Yandere! Jjk x Isekai’d! Goddess! Reader

⋆♱⋆LOVE INTERESTS Satoru Gojo, Suguru Geto, Shoko Ieri, Yuki Tsukumo, Kento Nanami, Utahime Iori, Choso, Toji Fushiguro, Sukuna Ryomen

⋆♱⋆NOTE Also posted in wattpad & quotev. Hearts and Reblogs are greatly appreciated<3.

⋆♱⋆PREVIOUS CHAPTER

⋆♱⋆MASTERLIST

A GUST OF WIND whispered past you, its delicate fingers tracing a chill across your [S/c] skin, and a sigh escapes your lips, dark lashes fluttering shut.

You clutched at the shredded fabric of your gown, the pads of your fingers tracing the crushed remnants of the necklace nestled in your décolletage.

Though the chains had withstood the violence that had befallen on you, the jewel at its center now lay in glittering shards pressed against your heaving bosom.

How it was still intact after you almost drowned remained a mystery, however.

The shrill serenade of crickets hidden amongst the swaying grass reverberated on your ears, along with the soft yet loud pulsing within your chest and your ragged breaths clawing their way past your lips.

You opened your eyes and you peered into the inky shadows cloaking the forest, watching as the undulating branches danced and writhed in the pale moonlight.

The moon shone like polished pewter hanging heavy in the night sky, its pale glow casting the place in shades of silver. You sat on top of a rock with your elbows placed on your bent thighs, cupping your chin in weary palms as you gazed upward, drinking in the silvery glow of the moon that spilled across the darkened earth.

Moments like this brought bittersweet memories flooding back.

You recalled stolen nights with Ataraxia—Sneaking away from the empire and going down to Shaxilu to stargaze.

You missed how her silken hair would flow over your skin as you cradled each other, chatting and chuckling while naming constellations with breathy whispers

In those past evenings, Ataraxia would lay her head in your lap, finger-painting stories in the glittering sky as you watched, transfixed not by the heavenly wonders but the terrestrial beauty that you would always see in her eyes.

She was lost staring at the stars above...while You’re lost staring at the stars that you would see in her eyes.

With a heavy sigh, you dragged your fingers through your hair, just wanting to go back to her, just wanting to feel her lips on yours, feel her touch.

But then, how could you return there, when you’re stuck here on earth?

You find yourself trapped in a realm of ambiguity.

How are you supposed to go back to nebula?

It dawns on you that you are forbidden from returning to the celestial sanctuary of the nebula, after all.

You were Exiled.

A surge of frustration erupts within you, and a groan bubbles up your throat.

Why the fuck did you have to get such a cruel father? It was so unfair, so, so, so unfair.

While others may envy your lineage—for having the creator of the universe as your father, for you, it is a harrowing nightmare from which you cannot awaken.

To them, aionarch may be a deity to worship, a deity to fear and respect, but to you, he is a tyrant to despise.

The loathing you nurture towards aionarch simmers within you.

The bitterness rages within you as you recall the pain he inflicted upon not only you but also your mother—the way he hurts her, the way he hurts you , as if you weren’t his child, as if xeranthi wasn’t his wife.

A of hatred burns hot within your chest.

Why must your paternal lineage be marred by such malevolence? Why must your father be so callous, so devoid of compassion?

Surely, a father’s love should be a beacon of compassion and guidance, not a shroud of cruelty and desolation, right?

The notion that paternal love should be unconditional feels like a distant myth, a fantasy beyond your grasp.

These thoughts churn within you, and you felt getting more, and more agitated as time passes by.

You rubbed your throbbing temples, just wanting the incessant ache to subside as you forced your mind to go back to the present dilemma—and not focus on aionarch’s bullshit.

Loathing aionarch would avail you nothing after all, and focus was imperative—as you needed to make a plan, a plan to go back to nebula and find ataraxia.

You were sure that if you even managed to go back to Nebula, Aionarch would kill you, yet, you didn’t care. Ataraxia was more important.

Focus was key—you needed to devise a plan to return to nebula, to find your beloved Ataraxia.

Ataraxia is in danger, or maybe even dead...

The thought sent a twisting ache through your guts, knotting your insides as your throat constricted painfully. Images of her harmed or worse flooded your mind unbidden, each more gruesome than the last. You cursed your own vulnerability, your lack of power in this scenario. All you could do was hope, hope with every fiber of your being, that Fate had seen fit to spare her.

Have trust in her, she’s strong and intelligent. you told yourself again.

You raked your trembling fingers through your hair as you sighed deeply, mouth twitching down into a frown as your fingers curled slightly as you suddenly remembered another obligation that was suddenly smashed down on you.

You’re a single mother now.

How the hell could you face Ataraxia? How are you supposed to tell her that you’re now a single mother and you have no explanation to offer? Doubtless, ataraxia would assume the worst—that in a moment of weakness or worse yet deceit, you had laid with another.

You didn’t want that, because infidelity isn’t your forte.

It sucks, really, because you don’t even know the father of your self proclaimed son.

A shaking hand rose unsteadily to the nape of your neck, kneading the taut muscles that was locked, yet it provided no respite from the conflicted feelings that was raging within you.

You were so lost in your thoughts, and time itself ceased to have meaning. How long you’d lingered on the frigid ground again?

You just sat there, staring at the moon.

How had it come to this, you wondered. Why were you suddenly tasked with motherhood against your consent? Choso seemed resolute in claiming your connection, in claiming that he was your son.

And somehow, you believed it. Because his nature remained unclear, he wasn’t a human, and neither were you—so there’s a possibility that he was indeed your son.

Meanwhile, Your self-proclaimed son—Choso was beside you as you contemplated on your life choices.

Choso sat silently, idly dragging a stray twig through the sandy earth. His boredom was palpable, though his gaze occasionally flickered in your direction, scrutinizing for any sign of you retaliating or running away—After all, he can’t have you running from your obligation as his mother now, can you?

There was a palpable tension in the air as the two of you perched upon the rugged rock.

The silence was suffocatingly deafening—for it wasn’t the serene quietude, but rather an uneasy stillness that seemed to seep into the very crevices of the place.

Choso’s gaze was fixed on the earth beneath him, the tip of a stick tracing aimless patterns in the dirt, etching out random letters that held no meaning.

Choso couldn’t fathom why you appeared so distraught—Why you looked so upset and agitated and a pang of guilt tugged at his heartstrings. Was it his presence that caused your distraught, leading you to sulk?

A fleeting frown crossed Choso’s lips. Is it because of him that you’re upset or something? He just wants you to let you know that you have a son, and not have you getting all depressed right here and then.

What had transpired to render you so distant, as though he were a stranger? Why do you gaze at him with a disorientated gaze—as though you don’t know him?

“Hey...” Your muted voice floated on the breeze, taking Choso’s attention as his ebony tresses swayed in the wind. Turning his head in uour direction, his gaze fell upon your crestfallen mien—your eyes downcast and avoiding his probing stare

“Yes?” he asked, watching as you finally looked at him, noting the pensive furrow of your brow and the piercing gaze that you were giving him.

“...you said that you’re my child, right?” Doubt laced your query as a thought took root—if it was true—that he was your son, then why did he stand before you fully grown? You were untouched, a maiden still, and your reason rebelled against what your eyes insisted was fact.

Maybe ataraxia got you pregnant unintentionally? No, no, that’s not possible, two women could not create new life no matter how fervent the affection is, and you haven’t done the deed yet.

Such things were fanciful impossibilities.

“Yes,” Choso said simply, though his reply did little to allay your turmoil—It was vague after all.

You frowned pensively as you took in Choso’s visage. Lines of strain etched themselves across his brow; a tightness pulled at the corners of his mouth. Shadows dusked beneath his downcast eyes. Had your words carried too much censure?

Is it your fault? Were you so harsh? Is it because that you didn’t accept him as your son? Is it because you just won’t drop the subject?

Did he felt neglected by his mother or something?

You knew not how to be a mother, so how are you supposed to fulfill that role and not make him feel neglected? You were stressed too... Because if he really is your son, then why wasn’t he a baby at all, why is he a grown ass man?

The position strained you both, truly. Your chest constricted at the sight of choso’s solemn expression. Softly, you massaged your aching temples. Through dark lashes, you peered at Choso, taking in the stiff set of broad shoulders, fingers clenched white-knuckled in his lap.

While you watched him with a pitiful gaze, Choso’s gaze remained downcast, tracing the purposeful march of dark ants amidst the dirt.

Choso was just wondering what would happen if he was born as an ant while you were busy there in your internal turmoil.

“Hey...”

A tentative breath escaped your lips as you mustered the courage to speak once more, the words delicately balanced on the tip of your tongue. “I’m sorry,”

you uttered, your voice barely above a whisper as you averted your gaze, your hand trembling slightly as it came to rest upon your lap.

“I was just... overwhelmed by everything that’s happened,” you confessed, your fingers twisting anxiously in your lap.

“That’s why I’ve been so... agitated.. there’s just so many things that happened to me.. and I guess.. i kinda let my anger out on you...”

The memory of Toji’s pungent aroma suddenly assaulted your senses, causing your nose to scrunch in a grimace as you fought to push the unpleasant recollection aside.

Out of anything, why did you have to remember that little shit?

You sighed.

“I’m so sorry for being so harsh..”

You paused, your gaze searching his face, hoping to gauge his reaction, to discern whether your apology had been accepted or if the rift between your non-existent bond remained unhealed.

“I’m really sorry,” you said, the words laced with a heavy sigh as your fingers curled into your palms, the knuckles turning white with the tension. Choso arched a single, eyebrow, his expression a mix of confusion and intrigue.

“Why are you apologizing?” he asked, his deep voice tinged with puzzlement. Were you feeling remorseful for some reason he couldn’t discern?

You bit your lower lip, the soft flesh catching between your teeth as you contemplated your response.

“Because of my harshness,” you murmured, your gaze dropping to the floor.

“I may have... unintentionally, of course... offended you.”

The words felt thick and heavy on your tongue, as if your very breath struggled to form them. Choso hummed, a low, contemplative sound that reverberated in his chest.

He couldn’t help but note the shift in your demeanor, the way your once-brash and snappish attitude had given way to a more gentle, solemn air. Had you finally come to terms with the fact that he had bested you in your previous arguments? Even better, did you finally accepted that he was your son? Fantastic, indeed.

Scooting closer to you, Choso reached out, his long fingers gently brushing against the back of your hand.

“You didn’t offend me,” he assured, his voice soft and soothing.

“There’s no need to apologize.”

You looked up, your eyes meeting his.

“I... I suppose that it’s okay then... But still, i’m sorry...” you said, your words hesitant and uncertain.

But then, just as quickly as the moment of peace had come, it was gone, and you were back to your old self, your brow furrowing as you fixed Choso with a pointed stare.

“But you do realize that you can’t be my son, don't you?” you asked.

Choso’s eye twitched, and he resisted the urge to let out a frustrated sigh. There you go again, trying to stir up another argument. It seemed that this was a topic you two would never see eye to eye on.

Your fingers gently intertwined with his calloused hand, and you couldn’t help but notice the stark contrast in texture, not only that.. his hands seemed to have the same size of yours, yet it still fit snugly.

An involuntary frown tugged at the corners of your lips as you contemplated whether your stature had somehow diminished, for you were certain your palm would have dwarfed his own. After all, you were taller than him and his head were barely reaching your shoulder.

“I know I’ve already told you this countless times before, but...” You paused, your voice soft and measured as you prepared to broach the sensitive topic once more.

“My lover is a woman.” You paused, studying his features for any flicker of understanding

Pressing your lips into a tight, resolute line, you continued,

“And two women, as you’re aware, cannot conceive a child together.”Your gaze drifted downward, fingers tracing the weathered contours of his palm in a delicate, almost reverent caress.

“And... Ugh, how many times do i have to say this...? This is embarrassing...” you grumbled.

“I’m the embodiment of chastity.”

You mumbled, lifting your eyes to meet his, a silent plea resonated within your gaze.

“And besides, we should simply just drop this and accept the fact that you’re not my son. Ataraxia might grow upset and assume I’ve been unfaithful and that i’m cheating on her.” Your words were laced with a soft desperation.

“And i don’t want that...”

“Please?”

Choso scoffed, his brow furrowing as he pressed his palm against his temple, the other hand still enveloped in your grasp.

”Just... accept it,” he murmured, his voice tinged with exasperation.

“You still have my brother nestled within your womb.”

The very mention of that fact caused a knot of dread to coil in the pit of your stomach, His brother remained nestled safely within your womb. How could you forget the life growing within? How could you have forgotten, even for a moment, the life that now thrummed within you—the life that had been so unexpectedly, inexplicably conceived?

...

Now ataraxia had more reason to believe that you cheated because you were technically pregnant!

You released your hold on his hand, fingers trembling slightly as you raked them through your hair, the strands catching and snagging against your skin, and nails scraping across your scalp in agitation.

“How did this even happen?” you breathed, the words barely audible as you watched Choso press his palm reverently against your tummy, fingers splayed as if listening.

“Can you not hear it?” he murmured, his expression calm and collectedness.

“Hear what?”

“The heartbeat of Noranso.” You felt your eyes widen in shock, jaw dropping open as you stared at him, utterly flabbergasted. Flummoxed, you gaped at him as you spoke.

“Tangina Choso... Don’t tell me that..” The words tumbled from your lips, colored with disbelief.

You felt a bubbling surge of annoyance boil within your core, because if you were to give birth to that random child that randomly popped in your tummy then you would’ve named it ‘destroyer of the land and mountains’

You grimaced, founding the name that choso had given his brother kinda weird, and you were acting as if the name that you would give it wasn’t any weirder.

But To be honest? if choso didn’t have a name, then you would’ve had named him “armpit munchies” or “squishy toe nails.”

“... you named it?”

Choso merely shrugged, stepping back from you with a nonchalant air.

“No, that’s his name,” he replied vaguely, leaving you to gape at his retreating form, a thousand questions swirling in your mind.

His explanation provided little clarity to your muddled psyche. Brow furrowed, glancing between him and your stomach curiously. Finally, words tumbled forth quietly

“It has a name.” You repeated, baffled.

“I.. i see..”

“Do you all have your names chosen even before the...” you paused, brow furrowing as you struggled to find the right words,

“the sperm race?”

Choso merely shook his head, seeming equally perplexed.

“I don’t recall joining a race.” choso murmured.

“What’s a sperm?”

Waves of discomfort washed over you as you stared at Choso with a perplexed gaze, your fingers instinctively massaging the tense muscles at the base of your neck. How could this man before you, with all the trappings of adulthood, be utterly ignorant of the most fundamental aspects of human biology? You found yourself bewildered, your brow furrowing as you struggled to comprehend the sheer depth of his naivety.

“You don’t know what a sperm is?” The words tumbled from your lips, laced with a mixture of incredulity and pity. Your eyes searched Choso's face, wondering if perhaps he was some sort of savant, what if he’s actually a baby trapped in a man’s body?

“Er, well... it’s a small creature,” you began, the words catching in your throat as you grappled with the awkwardness of the situation.

“And, you know, it’s what men... release... on the female. And then, it leads to a baby or something.” You trailed off.

“Like during reproduction,” You added.

“You have those too” The words tumbled forth, a futile attempt to bridge the chasm of understanding that separated you. Choso’s expression remained flat.

“What do you mean?” His voice, devoid of any hint of emotion, only served to heighten your sense of unease.

“You have those too. Sperm. You have those.” You shook your head, the words tinged with a resigned exasperation.

“I don’t.” Choso asserted, shaking his head in a way that made your eye twitch involuntarily.

“But you do,” you replied, unable to contain your exasperation as you facepalmed.

“Beneath those clothes, you have a dick. It’s the thing between your legs, the flesh thing. And then you have balls, they’re connected to the dick and your sperm is inside of your balls.”

Your brusque, vulgar manner of explaining the process confused choso, you cringed internally as you realized how embarrassing and blunt your words is. Leaning forward, you extended a lone digit, pressing the tip firmly against the juncture of his thighs.

“Here.” you said.

Choso’s brow arched in bewilderment, his calloused palm slowly trailing downward to tentatively graze the area you had indicated.

“Here?” he questioned, his tone laced with uncertainty.

You offered a curt nod of affirmation.

“Yes, precisely there.” A long-suffering sigh escaped your lips as you watched his exploration.

“There’s nothing here.”

“Punyeta, choso, Anong kabobohan to?”

you lamented, the palm of your hand connecting sharply with your forehead in a gesture of pure exasperation.

Did this mirror the frustration Aionarch experienced while explaining the details of reproduction and the importance of restraint to your dumb ass? Was this the same impatience he felt when you struggled to grasp basic concepts? Is this how he felt when he was teaching you what sex is and you can’t understand anything?

“I don’t know. But i don’t really know what you’re talking about.” Choso’s brow creased slightly as he tried to decipher your cryptic remarks.

“Are you truly aware that offspring gestate within the female womb, yet remain ignorant of the nature of the seed that initiates such creation?” you inquired with a hint of disbelief.

Choso emitted a dismissive snort. “Tsk.”

“Do i look like i care about that reproductive thing that you’re talking about?” Choso inquired, arching a sculpted brow with dubious sincerity.

“Your words are too flowery ma, i can’t understand it.”

Choso responded, the honorific “ma” slipping unbidden from his tongue unconsciously. In all honesty, he could not muster the slightest interest in your diatribe and the meanings therein—Your speech simply dwarfed his capacity for comprehension.

“M-ma?” You sputtered in disbelief, your viscera twisted within your torso’s confines. Why the hell does he keep perceiving you as the mother who birthed him? You had already told him so many times before, Had his cognizance reshaped itself to see you thus? Jaw clenched taut, gut wrenched with turmoil, you met his steady gaze.

“What?” he asked, purple eyes narrowed to slits as irritation claimed dominion of mien and manner.

“Are you still insisting that i have that “dick” you were talking of?”

“i don’t have those.” he reiterated adamantly.

You exhaled deeply, pressing your fingertips to your temples as sheer vexation overtook you. It seemed this Choso was intent on persisting in his fanciful notion of you as his mothe, huh?

Though you strove for patience, his constant invocations of that diminutive designation only served to stoke the flames of irritation within you.

You know that this might just fuel his delusion but you still spoke.

“If you’re really my son then you’ll have those.”

you remarked, exasperation sharpening your tongue as you pointed on his torso. Directing his gaze downwards, you noted the minute tensing of his brows as thoughtful consideration replaced that look of misguided familial bonding. Silently, he pondered your implication, tracing where your suggestive gesture indicated—his midsection bereft of the corporeal signs one might expect finding to see a true blood relation.

“Why do you keep pointing at my midriff?, there’s nothing here.”

“I know that i’m right. You should just look for yourself, see if you’re right.” he mumbled incomprehensibly.

“Okay.” You said flatly.

Your fingers grasped the fabric of his vest, the coarse material rough against your skin as you tugged him closer. With a sharp tug, you lifted the garment, revealing the taut, chiseled planes of his abdomen. His breath hitched suddenly, not expecting that.

“So?” He breathes out.

“It’s under here.” you murmured, your voice low and lilting as your hand drifted downward, tracing the line of the black, silk-like sash cinched around his hips. With deft movements, you began to untie the knot, your fingertips dipping beneath the waistband of his trousers as you tugged it.

“Here?” He asked, and choso blinked as he suddenly felt blood rushing down there.

What the hell is happening? He could feel something stiffening, but he just couldn’t pinpoint what it is...

“You look like you’re living in an another person’s body, you know?” you murmured, your eyes gravitating upwards to meet his. Choso’s gaze wandered, his mind occupied with a myriad of thoughts, his body tensing uncomfortably in response. The alien sensation of his new body still lingered, a mere twenty days into this unfamiliar vessel. A body bestowed upon him by a mysterious stranger, a doppelganger of yourself in every aspect—from the matching lips to the identical eyes, skin tone, and hair.

The resemblance between you two was uncanny, eerie in its precision.

But the personalities and the voice is different though.

Unease shadowed his features, amethyst eyes brooding, thoughts no doubt wandering to that fateful encounter only days past when first he’d been gifted with animated flesh.

Your voice broke him out of his reverie.

“I am not well-versed in the anatomy of males, But i guess I’ll just indulge you in from what I've read in my books,” you stated with a trace of bitterness, recalling the arduous task of having to study that 50 books with long ass pages for no reason at all.

“Maybe we should start with your upper physique?” you suggested with innocent curiosity, your words laced with a hint of uncertainty.

Your delicate hands slowly roamed his firm physique, lingering in certain spots as if mapping every contour with her touch alone. A visible shiver coursed through his body at the first caress upon his bare chest. “So here,” You began, pressing your soft palms fully against his pecs,

“lies your thoracic cavity.”

He gazed down intently at your hands exploring his form, too confused to fully comprehend your anatomical lesson.

“What’s a thoracic cavity?” He questioned, his curiosity piqued.

“It’s your chest. It’s a complex chamber nestled within your chest, safeguarding the vital organs necessary for sustaining life,” you explained, noting how he tilted his head slightly as he delicately removed your fingers from his cloth. With a meticulous gesture, he adjusted the fabric and lifted it up higher granting you an enhanced view of his upper body.

“You mean, the things that are essential for living?” he murmured in wonderment.

“Yeah.” you affirmed with a nod.

“Hmm... Intriguing,” he mused, mentally marking the importance of this knowledge.

His gaze then wandered towards your own chest.

“Why does your chest look like that? It’s different from mine.” he inquired, leaving you momentarily speechless.

You gawked.

“Putanginang lalake to... Choso, don’t ask questions like that! It’s uncomfortable and weird.” You sighed.

“Look me in the eyes, not my chest,” you instructed, a hint of exasperation lacing your words as he acquiesced with a nod, seemingly unaware of his lapse in etiquette.

You cleared your throat, hoping to get rid of the awkward atmosphere.

“So... Back to what i was saying.”

“There’s organs in here and they’re essential for your living. It's divided into three main parts, right pleural cavity, left pleural cavity and mediastinum. And the five organs in your thoracic cavity are your heart, lungs, esophagus, trachea and thymus.”

“There’s bones in here too, like your ribs and the sternum.”

“This one’s your sternum,” You mumble, tracing the arch of his sternum before dipping lower

“And this one’s your ribcage.”

Your fingers delicately glided across the solid ridges of his rib cage.

Sliding lower still, the tips of your fingers grazed his taut stomach.

“The abdomen...” you comtinued,

“The abdomen contains many vital organs: the stomach, the small intestine, the large intestine, the liver, the spleen, the gallbladder, the pancreas, the bladder, and many blood vessels.”

“And here, your groin” Your fingers dipped under his waistband and you were about to take it off until a distorted sound reached your ears, a warped and twisted echo that set your nerves on edge.

“Mommyyy” it crooned, and you froze, choso stiffening beside you as you both snapped your gaze toward the source.

There, emerging from the shadows, a giant, fat, purple worm with an ugly and contorted face. The same creature you had once shapeshifted into.

“Mommy Hug me”

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𝐍𝐄𝐁𝐔𝐋𝐀

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The miasmic scent of blood flooded Xeranthi’s senses as she gingerly sat upon her husband’s lap. Aionarch’s hand massaged her lacerated flesh. Stiffening against the forthcoming anguish, she steeled herself to absorb his ministrations without compromise of façade.

The woman’s ravaged flesh contracted in pain as pale slender fingers traced over her fresh lashes, reopening the barely sealed wounds.

Xeranthi’s flesh constricts as his fingers delved deeply into the crimson gash, parting the freshly torn skin with delicate precision. Her muscles and sinews writhed beneath his probing touch, the contractile tissue recoiling from the painful intrusion. Ichor fluid welled and spilled anew with each probing motion, and it dripped down his fingers like midnight liquid, painting his fingers a grim ichor.

Each brush of contact sent tendrils of white-hot agony lancing through her battered form, her stomach roiling with a fresh wave of nauseating pain—and she wanted to vomit so bad.

Aionarch methodically traced the wound’s edge, his glowing touch bringing tentative relief—That xeranthi very much didn’t appreciated. Her taut fibers slowly drew closed once more beneath his healing caress, though, the residual soreness remained.

The whip that they used kn her was excruciatingly painful, a nefarious device of torture forged from a dragon's scaly tail. Each serrated barb along its rippling length was painful, and each sharp tooth that lined the whip’s gangrenous tongue was carved from the fossilized scales of some bygone beast, and Xeranthi could feel her senses reeling as she remembered the obsidian talons buried deep within her back, rending sinews and splitting her skin.

She hissed in irritation as his head nestled intimately at her nape. His fingers drifted now across her marred back, cataloging each cruel mark left by the kiss. Over raised welts and gouges his hands roamed, tracing the ribs laid bare through her broken flesh.

Her form shivered violently at the fresh stimulus to such tender wounds, irritation and anger writting clear upon her trembling limbs. Still he persisted, tending injuries both evident and deeper still, his moist exhalations but another torment upon her skin already flayed. Slowly, gradually, underneath his ministrations the ravages began to fade.

Even in supposed gentleness her sadistic lord inflicted new torments too. Though his touch now soothed rather than seared, memories of past cruelties clung to her like parasites, burrowing their tendrils deep into her psyche.

“you’ve been quiet for quite a while now,”

Aionarch said quietly, though a hint of irritation colored his tone. This wasn’t the reaction he envisioned from Xeranthi after taking her away from that dreadful place.

Despite his efforts to mend her wounds, an undercurrent of ingratitude lingered like a bitter aftertaste.

Such an ungrateful wife she is, no wonder that their daughter is ungrateful too.

“And what would you have me say?”

Xeranthi jaw sets like stone as she let out a derisive grunt.

“Want me to thank you for your oh so called graceful mercy? Want me to thank you and act like you’re my savior when you’re the reason why i’m there in the first place?”

Aionarch grasped her chin roughly, his nails digging crescents into her flesh as he forced her gaze to meet his own.

“Ah? It seems the apple falls not far from the tree,” he murmured. “I think I know from whence our daughter’s foolishness stems,”

He breathed, the scent of wine upon his breath.

“So you’ve finally recognized your own reflection?”

Xeranthi’s lips curled into a wry smile, though no mirth touched her eyes. “So you finally admit she inherits her dull wit from you?”

Pausing, Aionarch considered her retort before throwing back his head and laughing, though the sound held no joy.

“Nay, ‘Tis from you, wife.”

Aionarch hesitated, brow furrowing, then laughed sharply. “No, she gets her foolishness from you.”

“She has your features, your genes,” Xeranthi countered.

“And she has your intellect, or lack thereof.

Aionarch’s fingers clenched tighter, his nails breaking skin, still Xeranthi would not flinch or cry out, meeting his gaze with defiance.

“You are cute Weiveiun,” He says with a chuckle.

Xeranthi narrowed her eyes as his icy gaze bored into her, pale ichor dripping slowly from vicious half-moon gouges in her skin where his nails still dug. Though her flesh stung in pain, she would not give him the satisfaction of seeing her pain.

Dark lashes fluttered shut to block out his soulless stare, though it did nothing to halt the onslaught of memories assaulting her mind.

“What did you do to my soryuleitha?”

“I know that you wouldn’t bring her up unless you did something.”

Aionarch hums as he traced a thumb along her jaw, smearing the iridescent blood across her cheek in a gruesome caress.

“What do you think?” He asks.

“I discovered that our daughter has become enamored with a woman,” the deity sighed languidly, and Xeranthi remained stock-still as her eyes grew wide with horror and dismay. No... surely Aionarch has not uncovered your secret attraction to the fairer sex? Xeranthi swallowed painfully, hoping beyond hope that you remains unscathed, for she knows all too well how cruel Aionarch can be, and how fiercely he despises any bond of intimacy that deviates from his narrow conception of propriety. And it was especially grievous, for it concerned you.

“You’ve hurt her...” Xeranthi said in icy tones and Aionarch hummed dismissively, feeling some subterranean forces suddenly surging forth from nowhere to pierce through him, but they dissipated impotently as he dispersed them with a negligent flick of his hand.

“Indeed, I did,” Aionarch replied coldly, without an ounce of remorse, not even caring about xeranthi’s pathetic attempt to hurt him.

Drawing a shuttered breath, Xeranthi stated grimly, “You should’ve just killed her.” She said coldly.

“And not hurt her.”

“You hurt her so grievously because you are consumed by envy of her lover, isn’t it?” Xeranthi murmured pensively, and for a split-second, Aionarch’s eyes widened in surprise at her perceptiveness before he threw his head back and laughed hollowly.

“Clever girl,” he purred, pressing his lips to Xeranthi’s cheek in a mockery of affection, which caused the goddess to recoil inwardly from his defiling touch.

“Since when did you know, hm?” Aionarch asks, and Xeranthi’s gaze slowly drifted downwards, her eyes avoiding his penetrating stare. How did she know? Through her stealthy observations over many years. Ever since you were a mere babe, it had seemed to Xeranthi that Aionarch was utterly obsessed with you, obsessed with sculpting you into some ideal of perfection, obsessed with isolating you from all others until you belonged only to him. None dare speak to him in such a casual, informal way without meeting a ghastly end, and yet with you he was strangely tender, affectionate even.

And that was not all—Aionarch kept a close, watchful guard over your purity as well, as if you were his private treasure. These things had whispered to Xeranthi’s intuition for longer than she could recall, leaving an uneasy sense of foreboding within her.

“Ever since she was a child,”

“I see the way you look at her.” Xeranthi murmured through clenched teeth, each word sharp enough to draw blood. Her fingernails dug half-moons into her palms as barely contained rage coursed through her veins.

“The way you so readily forgive her transgressions, as if she hung the very stars in the sky.”

Aionarch merely hummed in noncommittal acknowledgement, yet the icy disdain miring his eyes belied the uncaring facade he attempted to project.

“True, I harbor no love for you,” he conceded with a frigid smile that raised hackles along Xeranthi's neck.

“But i do care for you. Do I not provide for your needs? Have I not elevated your status above all others?”

She sneered mirthlessly.

“Spare me your falsehoods and justifications. I am no fool, no matter how you may seek to paint me as such. I know well that you used me—my body, my name—for no other purpose than so you could have a child because apparently, i’m the prettiest goddess blah blah blah, bullshit like that. Like i give a damn if you elevated my status”

“Watch your insolent tongue, woman, lest you regret the consequences.”

Xeranthi barked a harsh, derisive laugh.

“The truth wounds, does it? That I see clearly what lies beneath your genteel ravings? She looks like you,” she spat venomously,

“and so you mistake your narcissism for love. You like her because she looks like you, she spits your image.”

“Your feelings for [Name] has never been platonic in the first place.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

𝐄𝐍𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

𑁍ࠬܓ━━𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

𝐅𝐔𝐍 𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐒:

𝟎𝟎𝟏. [Name]’s stomach is starting to digest Choso’s Brother.

𝟎𝟎𝟐. Xeranthi knows about [Name] and Ataraxia.

𝟎𝟎𝟑. [Name] is the goddess of chastity, cause she was forced to live in Chastity by her father.

𝟎𝟎𝟒. Ataraxia heard the conversation between Aionarch and Xeranthi.

𝟎𝟎𝟓. The worm thinks that [Name] is its mommy too because yk? She once transformed into the worm and the worm scent is clinging onto her—so the worm assumed that she was its mommy.

𝟎𝟎𝟔. Choso wanted to ask about Ataraxia but refrained himself from doing so.

𝟎𝟎𝟕. Xeranthi wasn’t bothered by aionarch’s incestuous love cause it’s normal for them—since they’re deities and incest is normal in deities and they see nothing wrong with it.

𝟎𝟎𝟖. The person that gave choso his body was said that they looked like Kamiseijin but it’s not really kamiseijin, neither was it aionarch.

𝟎𝟎𝟗. Aionarch didn’t killed ataraxia for a reason;)

𝟎𝟏𝟎. Aionarch only took Xeranthi away to share some information with Xeranthi cause he kinda expected that Xeranthi would recoil at the thought of [Name] liking a woman but got the opposite reaction instead cause Xeranthi supports her daughter no matter what.

𝟎𝟏𝟏. Choso once considered bashing your head.

━━━━━

𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐒:

𝟎𝟎𝟏. “Punyeta, anong kabobohan to choso” means “What the fuck kind of stupidity is this, Choso?”

Weiveiun means

𝟎𝟎𝟐. Soryuleitha means “My sole happiness”

𝟎𝟎𝟑.Weiveiun means “My darling”

𝟎𝟎𝟒. “Putang inang lalake to” means this fucking man...

━━━━━

🔪 || 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐒

━━━━━

╰┈➤ 𝟎%

—𝐒atoru has been thinking about you or whatever, and honestly? He’s getting a bit jealous of you because suguru has been focusing on tryna figure out what the actual fuck you are.

━━━━━

╰┈➤ 𝟏𝟎%

—𝐒uguru saw ataraxia’s name on the necklace and now he’s assuming that your name is ataraxia<3.

━━━━━

╰┈➤ 𝟎%

—𝐓oji misses his worm already, please come back. He needs money.

━━━━━

╰┈➤ 𝟒% (𝐔𝐩 𝟐%)

—𝐒hoko, just like suguru, assumed that your name is ataraxia and now she’s doing loads of research in tryna find you.

━━━━━

╰┈➤ 𝟐𝟒% (𝐔𝐩 𝟒%)

—𝐂hoso is getting irritated by you. BUT, he’s jealous because a fucking worm just called you mommy! Like why is the worm stealing his mother? Choso was annoyed at that + he’s also annoyed at the fact that you kept on telling him about human reproduction or something like that, he’s getting uncomfortable with the topic + what are you even saying about his body or something? Choso has never really looked at his body or something like that, nor did he paid any mind in the details.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄:

okokok, so i’m not writing choso as an “innocent uwu” bullshit like that. Choso is not innocent in here and he’s just really curious about how the human body works, but that doesn’t mean that he’s innocent or something. He just trusts Kamiseijin and is quite comfortable with her, that’s why. + He’s literally thinking of killing [Name].

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Shit’s bouta go down at chapter six:) just don’t mind my obsession with anatomy lmfao. This chapter is cringe af (everything is in my pov) dawg, i sprained my ankle and now i’m itching to hurt my mc again... But i just decided to give her this moment of peace because i’m gonna take it all away soon💓.... Mwhehe i was supposed to make her meet Toru and Sugu in her human form but i decided to just make them meet her at chap 7 cause (spoilers: there’s gonna be a fight in chapter 6)

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LOL THIS BULLSHIT BECAME A SCIENCE LESSON INSTEAD OF A JJK FUCKIN' FANFIC LMAOOO SJHSHZJAJAK... And yeah... When i said that there’s gonna be incest in here... I meant that. BUT DON’T THINK THAT I CONDONE/NORMALIZE THAT BEHAVIOR IRL OKAY? incest isn’t okay and it’s illegal<3

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255 notes · View notes

ssplague · 10 months ago

Text

Benighted Beloved

Prologue

Dragon King Bakugou x Reader

Haven’t decided on the title yet, didn’t want to take even more time to get this out.

Warnings ⚠️ BRIEF Mentions of attempted assault, sex trafficking, & murder.

As the last of the moon’s ethereal, silver light disappears from the skies, a harsh wind begins to blow. This kingdom’s inhabitants are hidden away within the confines of their homes. The silence is daunting as the wind begins to howl through the previously bustling capital streets.

Within the dimly lit castle a woman stares through the her window before shutting the drapes tight.

The atmosphere within the fortress is riddled with tension; Murmurings of prayers can be heard from various servants pausing their duties as they move about. Her bosom heaves rapidly from panting breaths, she fights in vain. Stubborn to prevent the vision attempting to shine through, ignoring the now blurry edges of her eye sight. Ebony hair is sticking to her sweaty face, she’s only standing on shaky legs from leaning against the edge of her vanity table.The door of her bedroom swings open and immediately slams shut. A man has come to see her, he’s briskly crossing the room, before coming to a stop at her side.

“What ails you?” The tired man asks, helping the woman stand upright by allowing her to hold his arm. Continuing to assist, despite her uncoordinated shuffling to sit on her bed. “If you are to be given a prophetic message, why fight it? Her majesty wishes to know what you have seen”. The woman wraps her arms around her middle, sharp nails nicking at her flesh as she draws in a shaking breath, “This night is tainted by darkness, the goddess is unable to grant us her full protection while her light is repressed…if my body will hold out until the darkness recedes, perhaps tragedy will be prevented from falling upon our kingdom once again”. Light from the single lit candle casted half of her face in shadow. The oracle was ashen faced, her black bangs plastered against her forehead, droplets of sweat leaked down her face onto the floor as she rested her elbows on her knees, shaking hands massage her temples.

“You cannot alter fate Midnight, you are destroying yourself all for the sake of delaying a message you were chosen to deliver” Aizawa says with a heavy sigh, rubbing at his eyes “I know you continue to blame yourself for the death of King Masaru but even the queen herself told you that you were not at fault, you relayed the message, and it was something that simply couldnt be remedied..”.

A shuddering breath racks the oracle’s body and she begins falling forward, only for the exhausted man to catch her,

“Stop this! You are going to die!”.

Midnight knew she was on deaths door, her body would give out soon, unless she relents…

Once again the bedroom door opens silently, the snap of it shutting alerts the two occupants of a new comer entering the room.

“Do it for the sake of the child, if you wish to atone for the death of its father then guide it as it grows, inform the future leader on how to avoid whatever negativity may come beforehand, so that it can be properly dealt with” the stern but soft voice of Jeanist seems to have been able to break through the oracle’s stubbornness.

“Normally only one of you would need to be the scribe for this session…but I would prefer it if there were two perspectives on whatever I report, considering the situation…” requests Midnight as Aizawa allows Jeanist to help the frail woman sit up. Making one more request as the blonde man fluffs and rearranges the pillows behind her:

“Please light the ceremonial pouperie and hand me both selenite and tourmaline towers”.

At the beginning of her life Midnight had been gifted with the ability to predict small things such as who would win a foot race or what she would receive for her birthday. As a teen her visions changed into predicting who would find love and eventually how relationships would end. Life was not always kind to her, and once she reached her late teens she had been enslaved and forced into prostitution.

Luck had been on her side as an adult; One night as the ebony haired beauty made her way through town. She had come across a drunken man attempting to asssault a young woman. Her amethyst eyes catch the glint of an intact bottle neck laying discarded on the alleyway’s grime crusted cobblestones. Those muffled cries of the female being violated brought her back to when she herself had first been enslaved. Slinking up through the shadows in silence, the angry woman would later on be compared to a panther as she came flying out of the darkness. The brute didnt have a chance to fight back as loose shards of glass were shoved into his eyes, the jagged spikes of the bottle were repeatedly slashed and thrusted into his neck, face, and chest until the pig was unrecognizable.

The woman she had saved turned out to be the daughter of a duke, visiting from a completely different kingdom. “Please accompany me for my journey home, your bravery will bring you great favor with my family, im offering you a new life, a fresh start”. Once the dutches and duke had learned about the gift of sight their daughter’s savior possessed, it was only a matter of time before Midnight was called to advise the current king and queen of her new home.

The darker haired man uses the candle to light to light the bundle of herbs, the scents of sage, lavender, and jasmine fill the room quickly.

Both polished stone towers are pressed into her shaking hands, Each man stood at the oracle’s bed side with quills poised and ready. Only then does the ritual begin;

She always hated lowering the walls of protection that had been built around her psyche. It made her feel as though she were stripped naked, vunerable, about to have her dignity snatched away, and soul crushed. Of course those feeling were always what prelude a tainted and unfortunate vision. Her eyes buldge in their sockets as they widen, her plump lips fall open and an amplified emotionless version of her voice spews out the sacred information from her gaping maw.

In this realm,

a blessing descends,

a child of fate,

Whose power immense,

destined to determine

earth’s fate

Born beneath the moon's shadow,

a tale quite bizarre,

A beast hides within,

a spirit touched by mar.

Not at the outset,

but time's relentless flow,

Unveils a name in

history's annals to grow.

Victories numerous,

A heart encased in sin

With a chance encounter,

love's dance shall begin.

Strings of fate weave

a love, pure and oh so divine,

The dragon king seeking

a mate with whom his

Soul shall intertwine.

This love is true,

by impurity shunned,

Great Darkness out shone

by Celestial radiance

Who’s light could

Outshine the sun

Blessings abound

if the moon's grace prevails,

However her failure

unveils hate

as darkness assails.

The Earth shall quake in fright

silence descends in despair,

The dragon king ruthless,

his mate to ensnare.

Land soaked in blood,

tainted with gore

at that moment

T’will be decided

peace within this kingdom

will become a distant lore

Decay befalls living souls,

cursed evermore.

Oh how can one’s feelings

spin a tale so profound?

For only true love shall

Determine whether darkness

Or light shall abound?

In a wing located on the complete opposite side of the castle, a feminine shriek is permeated by the sharp wails of an infant.

“It’s a boy your majesty!” Exclaims a mid-wife who held the freshly delivered baby.

She is quick to clean off the continuously shrieking child, immediately swaddling him in a soft blanket. Queen Mitsuki held out her trembling hands to receive the bundle of joy. “He’s beautiful my lady, I’m sure the king is looking down from heaven with pride” stated one of the other servants as she took away the soiled linens. “Yes he is…my beautiful little boy…my precious Katsuki” the queen whispered, kissing the boy’s head. His tiny whisps of blonde hair tickled her face as she holds him close. A little fist slips out from the blankets, waving about as his wails grow louder. Another servant enters the room, her arms laden with fresh blankets and sheets, “The moonlight has returned!” She happily reports, setting down the bedding and drawing back the curtains some.

Soon as those first rays of the shining silver light landed on the baby, his shrieks cease instantly. Finally opening his small crimson eyes to stare up at his mother, a goofy smile appearing and soft cooing replaced his cries. Everyone in the castle seemed to breathe a sigh of relief as the dreaded eclipse had come to an end.

“My Katsuki, you’re going to grow into a strong, dependable man, eventually you’ll become the greatest king the world has ever seen…isn’t that right Masaru?” Mitsuki snuggled the baby, tears rolling down her cheeks. She wasn’t able to see the man standing beside the two of them, but Katsuki could. The spirit of his father placed its hand on his little head, and the baby began to giggle happily. “I cant do much in this form, but I’ll do whatever I can to help you make the right choice when the time comes…take care of your mother for me…I love you both so much”.

A/N: We’re starting a NEW series!

What did you think? Pay attention to that prophecy, any ideas on what it’s talking about?

#katsuki bakugou #Bakugou x reader #Bakugou x y/n #katsuki bakugo x reader #dragon king bakugou #mha fantasy au #mha fanfiction

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hailuchiha · 8 months ago

Text

Caretaker

DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT

!! MINORS DNI !!

!! 18 + NSFW CONTENT!!

!! ALL characters involved are ADULTS ; NO minor characters!!

Summary: Itachi was supposed to return DAYS ago! It wasn't like him to ever return late from a mission. His sister, whom he left in the care of his partner Kisame, has been a ball of anxiety, getting worse each day. Kisame is also worried now, but when things come to a head, he takes his frustration out in a different way.

prompt filled for this anon ask

size difference; sort of noncon; cnc; sexual frustration; betrayal of trust; frustration; anxiety; found family drama; partially clothed; out in the open; power imbalance; anger issues; belly bulge; choking;

1.7k words

Caretaker

It had been days.

Itachi was supposed to be back days ago.

Kisame, whose care he'd left his precious sister in, almost felt as agitated as the younger Uchiha felt. While he knew how capable Itachi was, he just couldn't account for his partner's absence being this long.

Besides, he was running out of things to say to calm the brat down. At least, he was running out of believable things to say.

Plus, brat was sort of an insult to the gorgeous young woman.

"Kisame," she whined, her doe eyes wide and tearful as she stomped up to him. "Why isn't aniki back yet? You say everyday that he'll be back any day!"

"How the hell am I supposed to know," the swordsman growled, also running thin on patience by now. "Just... go hunt a rabbit or somethin to keep yourself busy. And useful."

The young woman frowned, flipping her dark hair over her shoulder as her hands went to her hips, lower lip wobbling a little despite her frown.

"You're saying I'm not useful?" she said in a dangerous tone.

Kisame wanted to roll his eyes, trying not to stare at her heaving bosom and the pretty flush heating her cheeks.

"Don't start this again, woman!" he responded, though his bark had no bite. "Just don't pester me anymore."

"Huh. Some caretaker you are," she scoffed, even as she started to turn away. "You know, Itachi left me with you so you'd take care of me."

She had been backing off, not really even insulting him. But something about either what she said or the way she'd said it made his pent up emotions flare up.

He threw her over his shoulder, ignoring her indignant squawk as she was carried like that, and left the clearing to head into the cover of the surrounding darkness of the forest.

"Hey," she cried out as he threw her gently onto moss-covered ground.

"You're quite the ungrateful brat, aren't ya," he hissed, climbing on top of her and refusing to let her squirm about or escape him.

Something feral flared inside Kisame, and he gave into it, grinning wildly as he groped her ample breasts, his large hands squishing and squeezing the soft mounds.

She was panting from the exertion as she bucked under him, trying in vain to throw off his balance. Kisame would have been impressed at her valiant efforts if he didn't find her helplessness, her inability to even budge him, hilarious.

"You wanted me to play caretaker, huh?" Kisame huffed, bending down to kiss and lick at neck before biting down harshly. He smirked when she yelped, glaring at him with a mixture of shock and fear.

"You'd better stop!" she said, but her voice was all wobbly and breathless.

"I think not," he said, grinding down on her so she felt his cock rubbing firmly against her belly. "Since you couldn't appreciate all the hard work I did taking care of ya, providing for ya, all this time your brother's been gone, methinks you need to be taught a lesson. As your caretaker, I got the right. 'Sides, I deserve some sort of payment too for dealing with ya."

With that, he didn't wait for the Uchiha woman to respond, and simply tore off her underwear and leggings in a single yank, leaving them tangled at her ankles when they got stuck on her shoes. He pulled up her dress so it was pooled up around her tiny waist, the pale, silky smooth skin of her bare legs exposed for his hungry eyes. His cock twitched in appreciation, a wet spot appearing in his pants where he leaked precum already.

"Fuck," he mumbled, eyeing her pretty little cunt, watching almost mesmerized even as his oversized fingers idly played with her soft lips.

His eyes shot up when she whimpered, trembling, and he smirked when he saw the needy look in her eyes even as she tried to cross her legs to keep some semblance of decency.

Kisame chuckled, flicking her nose before gripping her plush thighs and spreading her legs, not allowing her to hide.

"Now, now, little one," he crooned. "Don't be all shy on me now! You were mouthy enough to pester me the whole two weeks your brother was gone."

"P-Please, Kisame," she still begged, eyes not meeting his even as her warm walls became slick with Kisame's attention, his finger making delicious wet sounds as it moved within her folds.

"Please what?" he asked with a smirk.

"L-Let's not do this... I won't bother you again," she said, not meeting her eyes, her nails digging into his still-clothed thighs.

Kisame barked out a laugh.

"Tell that to your greedy lil cunt," he countered, smacking her pussy and delighting in the strangled sound she made. "You even went through the trouble to shave it. Didja do it for me? Now be a good girl and let daddy have some fun... You've stressed me out enough the past few days," he said, pulling out his cock and smirking as he saw her eyes widen in horror.

Kisame knew he was girthy, that he was bigger than the average man... It came with the territory, what with him being around 7ft tall. He wondered if she was just playing coy, or if the little Uchiha would turn out to be a little cockslut after all.

He continued to pump his fingers in and out of her wet cunt, opening her up and relaxing her while using his other hand to tug at his cock a couple times till it glistened in his copious precum.

As he took out his fingers and replaced them with his thick head, he caught her eyes as she bit her lip, eyes trying to see where he was entering her. It took a few tries, his cock catching on her entrance every time he tried to push in. But finally, it worked. Kisame groaned at the sight of his fat cockhead slipping past her wet folds, stretching her pretty pussy painfully wide, if the grimace on her pretty face was anything to go by.

The young woman's face was flushed from the strain, and he took a moment to marvel at how pretty she looked, before slamming right in, not giving her more time to adjust.

To his delight, she threw her head back, as if in pleasure, her eyes rolled back and mouth dropped open in a soundless gasp as her pussy was stuffed with his oversized cock.

"Fuck," he groaned, wishing he'd undressed her completely when he bit into her shoulder and was met with the dissatisfying material of her dress rather than her delicious skin.

With no more patience, he started rocking into her, barely pulling out before slamming back in, groaning as the soft sound of her muffled gasps echoed around them, his eyes feasting upon the way her full breasts bounced each time he thrust in.

When her shoes became a problem, not allowing him to move as freely as he liked, he yanked them off in frustration before ripping the tangled mess of leggings and underwear off as well and tossing them aside.

Then, he pulled her onto his lap till her cunt was flush against him, his cock driving even deeper into her warm, wet folds.

With her back arched deliciously in this angle, the Uchiha's moans became louder, and she could almost swear the cock ploughing her was going all the way up to her throat. She felt a little dizzy, but she couldn't help but let her legs fall open wider in invitation, her blurry gaze fixed on the large blue form of the man she'd come to see as sort of a big brother over the years. Not anymore, she thought giddily to herself.

Kisame was pleasantly surprised when she giggled, looking completely out of it, and he responded by fucking her harder. He had his answer- she was definitely a cockslut.

"What's so funny, baby," he crooned, bracketing the endearment with sharper thrusts groaning as her nails dug into the exposed skin of his thighs in reflex.

"Jusss thinking about how y're not my brother anymo," she managed, though her speech was slurred and her breath being repeatedly punched out wasn't helping.

Kisame raised a brow, almost breaking into a cackle. This was fucked up.

"You're a dirty lil girl, yanno?" he said instead, sounding far too breathless for his liking.

She just giggled and wrapped her legs around his hips, pulling moans out of them both as the movement sheathed him in her smaller body completely.

As he continued to move into her, she thoughtlessly pulled him into an open-mouthed kiss, moaning as his hips stuttered in response.

The older man swore under his breath and hiked her hips higher, angling himself so he could rub her clit without breaking his momentum.

Her hands flew up to grip his arms, thighs twitching around him where they bracketed him, as high pitched moans fell from her reddened lips. Kisame could get used to the sight.

He chased his building high, keeping up the pace and not letting up as her body jerked and shuddered with pleasure, her cunt gripping his cock impossibly hard and throbbing around him as she came first. Kisame groaned, almost spilling then too, but he managed to wait till he'd fucked her through her orgasm before pulling out one last time and burying ballsdeep again, filling her with his load till her soft tummy bulged prettily.

Her eyes were still glassy, her chest heaving as she came down from the high, and Kisame gave in to the urge to lean down and capture her mouth in a filthy kiss.

"Good kitty," he muttered before pulling out, smirking at the sight of her pussy gaping wide open from taking him, and streaks of their mixed cum started to spill out.

"Let's getchu cleaned up," he said, pulling his gaze away from the delicious sight, only to chuckle when he saw her blissfully passed out.

Oh well. He didn't mind getting her cleaned up and dressed. Being caretaker wasn't so bad after all, the swordsman mused.

A/N: uh. this turned out to be very fun to write. i was planning to introduce itachi too but this got too long. maybe next time lol any typos will be fixed as soon as i find them

#dark itachi #tw dark content #tw dark naruto scenarios #kisame hoshigaki #dark kisame #kisame smut #kisame x reader #kisame x uchiha reader

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