#his arms look like king crab legs

[peachesofteal]

Deckhand Simon Riley / female reader 18+ mdni, dubcon. Simon is very no good terrible and kind of mean. Predator/prey. Excessive alcohol consumption, manipulation. Spitting, size, praise, a little bit of breeding/daddy - kink.

Simon arrives to town on the last summer wind. 

It’s cold for the shoulder of the season. Not the coldest he’s ever felt, but cold enough his scars become rigid, inflexible swaths of skin littered across his body pinching at every hinge. 

He can already feel the burn. The stretch and strain of his upper back, his arms, his legs. Can already feel the weight of the pots, sharp metal slamming and crashing, teeming with things that look more like creatures than they do delicacies.

Hook. String. Pull. Block.

The people stare at him, wide, wind whipped eyes peeking out underneath knit wool hems, gagged and confused, whispers passed back and forth like children with a lolly. 

Did you see him? 

Look at the size of ‘im- 

Is that Ernest’s new deckhand? 

Fucking monster of a man, I tell you. 

He keeps his head down. Eyes fixed to the floor, old instinct still churning in his blood, shoulders stiff and squared. Captains are all the same, whether on land or at sea. Says “yes sir” as Ernest sizes him up, asks about his previous two seasons, and then sends him away with a perfunctory nod and a departure date. 

The Old Man leaves in two weeks. See you then.

King crab fishing is the closest he’s felt to having a foot in the grave since he was actually in one. Opponents in a firefight are known, predictable. Monsters of their own kind, but ones he knows intimately. Minds of a killer, the lot of them, a certain subset of consciousness nearly shared. 

The ocean shares its mind with no one. Its secrets are its own, buried in the briny deep, never to be revealed. 

And the Bering-  

The Bering is its own horror. Savage and cruel to those who would tempt it, willing to swallow anything offered and pull it down into fathomless black water. Cold enough to kill a man in seconds. Violent enough to toss them all to sea. 

He’s seen it happen. More than once. The environment is uncontrollable, unpredictable, lethal, and the work is arduous. 

The company is tolerable at best. The season is short, yet taxing. Deckhands live dozens of years, in a few short months. They stare off into nothing, watching the horizon, long gone look in their eye. 

Still, he sees familiar flickers in them, same firelight he’s seen in the many men he’s killed, or worked alongside of. 

At the base of it, these types of men, his kind, are all the same. 

Rabid and dangerous in packs. 

The cove is nearly derelict. The town spills up into white and black spruce, houses nestled in the grove of tree trunks twice Simon’s size, all doors facing the warped and tilted wooden slats of a long-loved dock. 

There isn’t much here, a small grocery, a liquor store, a petrol station and of course- 

A pub. 

Aptly named The Wharf, the bar is as old hat as they come, seedy and sticky, sunken into the soft earth. It’s everything he’s come to expect in a fishing town this far up north, where the season is variable, and the money is too. Dark wood from floor to ceiling, over polished oak horseshoe, neglected stools and booths. Everything creaks, and The Wharf is no exception. The pub, the dock, the trees. Wind whistles and bark groans, a rasp you can only find here, in these places where time is too slow, and the world forgets. 

There are rooms above the bar, usually rented to his ilk, deckhands biding their time, greenhorns rattling with excitement. They all filter in weeks before the season opens, and when he checks into his, he’s not surprised when the woman at the desk tells him he’s got the last one. 

There are only ten, after all.

The Wharf’s side door swings open in a gust of blistering wind, yet not a single person turns their head. 

None except him, though he doesn’t need to look to know it’s you. 

He can smell you. Can feel you, clear across the floor. Sea salt and lavender, it whirls in your wake wherever you go, and when he lingers on the sidewalk outside of your little workshop, he swears he’s standing in a cloud of it. 

“If y’need jackets, bibs mended from last season, there’s a place on the corner, next to The Wharf. She’ll get ‘em done before season.” 

You’re the bloody seamstress. The tailor. Nimble fingers twisting and tying, threading and looping inside a faded light blue storefront, working into the small hours of the night. Your workspace is small, and overflowing with bright orange polyurethane covered clothes, long lengths of neoprene, socks, shirts, wristers. A mass of work, it seems, one that keeps your light on after all others have gone dark. 

Except The Wharf’s. 

It’s the second time he’s seen you here. 

He doesn’t count the times he’s seen you without you realizing it. Doesn’t count the times he’s finished a cigarette on the street at the perfect angle, a solid perch to peer right in through your window. He doesn’t count the times he’s watched you from The Wharf’s one dark window, when you step outside to take a long breath of air, stretching your back and shaking your arms out, rolling your head in a circle- 

and baring your throat for the slaughter.

The first was days ago, close to zero hundred, when you swung in to settle on a barstool with your back to the door. You look like you’re made from spools of silk, even underneath all of your winter layers, big coat, knit wool hat. There’s a coruscated dapple in your eye, one that manages to shimmer even in the darkest shadows of the bar, voice saccharine as he’s ever heard, dipping into a melody as you go back and forth with the bartender. 

He hears it now when he closes his eyes at night, awash in a sea of bourbon, cigarette stench sunken into his skin. A gentle rhythm, a syrupy voice, saying his name. 

Screaming it. 

You catch his gaze across the bar. Catch him watching you, peeling you, picking you apart, but you say nothing. Blink a few times, glance down at your beer, pretend to busy yourself with something else. It’s not a flinch, but close enough to it. 

He knows what you see. What you should see. 

A monster. Licking his lips at a girl. A fire breather bearing down on top of a princess. 

If he crossed this room right now and yanked you off that barstool, who would interrupt? Intervene? They’re all men of the same vein, born from different battlefields. The rules of engagement become status quo, regardless of whether you’re baptized by the Bering, or by fire.

Rabid, dangerous in packs.  

Eleven days left, and he’s finally found something worthwhile to occupy his time, besides lurking in the dingy corners of The Wharf like an old, decrepit sailor. 

You. 

You live above the shop, an old fire escape leads to a wooden door with a big window, one covered by a curtain hung from the inside. 

The Wharf’s rooms have a fire escape too. A metal catwalk. 

Metal. Who’s the idiot who decided metal anything would be good in a place like this? Iron nearly turned red, rusted to all hell. One shift, and it all falls down. 

He takes his watch there, at night. A gargoyle at his post, waiting for the flicker of your kitchen and bedroom lights, shapes and shadows dancing behind the thin drapes, a ballerina on stage for the masses. 

For him. 

He brings you his gear. Looms over you at the desk where your sewing machine is grinding out an industrial stitch thicker than what he’s seen on parachutes. 

“H-hi.” Hi. Aren’t you cute? A little lamb, alone in the woods.

He nods. Stays silent. Enjoys watching his catch twist herself up on his hook. 

You glance at the noxious orange pieces draped over his arm, and half timidly reach.

“Need those patched? Er, like… have any tears or rips?” Not really. He keeps his gear in good condition. Throws out his underclothes after every season- can never get the stench of fish out of em, but his outer gear is well cared for. 

It almost pained him to rip them apart last night. 

“Simon.” He gives it expectantly, jogging your manners to the forefront. You have the good grace to look embarrassed with how fast you spit out your own name.

“Bibs have a few holes. Big ones. Jacket’s got a rip under the armpit.” You reach, tiny little fingers stretching across the barren space between him and you, and he lashes down the urge to snatch your wrist out of midair and bring it to his teeth. 

Do you taste like lavender? Sea salt? Is your cunt briny like the Bering, slicked sweet and brackish? 

“Okay, well, I should have them done before-“ 

“You better.” You startle, eyes wide and confused, before they find your feet, cowed little girl before an awful man. “Jus’ need em, is all.” He softens the approach, not willing to cut you down just yet (that comes later), and you respond well, perfectly, pushing your glasses up onto the bridge of your nose with a genuine smile. 

Live bait on the line. Set, cast, hook.

“Got it.” 

His control is becoming a house of cards. 

You’re in The Wharf earlier tonight, asking Jimmy for a double, whiskey over ice and nearly to the brim of a rocks glass. Just one, you say. Neck is sore as hell.

He maintains a distance. More inclined to watch you devolve, fascinated by the way you unravel with each sip. Lightweight. Figures.

You pull your glasses off and rub your temples, hopping off the bar stool with a quick word over your shoulder, a request for another drink. “Just goin’ to the bathroom.” You explain, walking away with a hardly detectable sway in your step- 

directly into the side of the wall the bar juts out from. 

Someone, a woman who never so much as looks up the entire time she’s here, furrows her brow at where you’re rubbing your forehead and tsks. 

“Your glasses!” You turn, embarrassed, downright mortified, and sheepishly slide your fingers across the bar until you find them. 

“Oh, right. Thanks Laurie.” Laurie, says nothing. Not until you’ve turned away and almost disappeared into the bathroom. Then, she mutters to herself, into her fresh pint. 

“Damn girl is blind as bat without those things.” 

He buys Laurie another round before he leaves for the night. An eventual thanks. 

"Can I bum one?"

His neck nearly snaps. Where did you come from? You're timid in the mouth of the alley, lichen washed red brick flanking you on either side, your hands folded together at your navel.

"Little girls allowed to smoke 'round here?" Now your neck snaps.

"I- I'm not a little girl, thank you." It's like you're trying to turn your nose up at him, but he's a giant above, and it's hopeless.

"Sure you're not." He plucks the cigarette from his lips, and then holds it out to you. Your breath hitches, top teeth digging deep, an instigation, invitation. His hand whips forward, too fast for you to realize, gripping your chin, pressing his thumb into the flesh of your bottom lip. "Want a drag or not?"

"S-sure." He's got your cheeks squeezed together, just so, enough that the fat of them crowds your mouth and makes the s sound more like a whistle.

He doesn't let go as he feeds it to you, stopping just before the filter touches your teeth. "Go ‘head then." You draw, deep, eyes closing as that first hit of nicotine rushes your blood, undoubtedly making you light headed, and his cock thickens with dreams of his fat head pushing between your lips instead of this cigarette, dreams of you split open on him with a soaked pussy, neck bared for his teeth.

Hook. String. Pull.

He squeezes himself overtop his jeans, heavy weight pulsing between his legs, a dangerous affliction growing larger and larger with each second. He could rock against his palm, right here in front of you, and it would feel worlds better than the last measly meal he had, months and months ago. Nothing will compare to you, he already knows.

You see it all. Frozen like a deer in headlights, your lips part, transfixed, confused. Will you run? Will you shout? Will you tell?

"I uh, I better... get going. Have a lot of work t-to finish." Good girl. He nods, letting go of his aching cock, slipping the cigarette back in his mouth, searching for even a hint of lavender and sea salt lingering in the filter.

"Goodnight."

Four days left, and his gear is finished.

You leave a message for him, letting him know he can pick up whenever is convenient. During shop hours. Cash or card accepted. What a dutiful business owner.

You’re in the back when he arrives. It’s long past close, but no one locks their doors here. Anyone could walk right in.

“Be right out!” You yell, slightly muffled. He doesn’t respond, doesn’t opt to give himself away, just waits at the front desk, where a mug of fresh coffee sits, still hot, still steaming.

Desperation for claim, for possession, claws up his throat to his tongue, thrashing in a fit until saliva pools in his cheeks. He sucks through his teeth, rolling the pockets behind his molars forward, pulling as much as he can, his soul even, up and out, landing it in a glob on the surface of your evening caffeine fix.

It sits there, tiny bubbles and all, an island in endless ocean, unable to break apart or disappear. Blatant. Obvious.

So, he sticks his finger in it and gives a quick swirl. For good measure.

There’s rustling in the back, and then you pop through the doors, glasses sliding to your nose. “Hi! So sor-“

You grind to a halt, spine curling forward, as if you’re trying to protect your precious organs from his fingers, avoiding his grip around your ribs, his urge to rip you open and devour you whole.

He smirks. “Got a message my gear is done? Nick o’ time.”

“Yeah, it’s… it’s done. I’ve got it, one sec.” You fidget, gun shy and shuddering, flitting away on the turn of a heel, eager to escape where he hulks in front of your desk, no doubt.

When you come back, you’re a bit more put together. Polished. Glasses in their rightful place, you place his bib and jacket on the counter unceremoniously, lips pressed together. He hands you a wad of cash, and you count it carefully, keeping your eyes pinned on the bills as he inspects the stitching, taking stock in your sharp attention to detail. “Like new, great work. Thank you.”

You go doe eyed, demure, flattered, and then confused, trying to reconcile this man, this version with the one from last night. “T-thank you.”

It all comes to a head, two days out.

There’s a party of sorts, a gathering. Entire boat of deckhands crammed into The Wharf, plus others, town residents and even some from the next over.

Too many, for Simon’s tastes.

Too many, except for one.

You’re crammed between the wall and someone’s shoulder, occasionally saying hello, accepting thanks for work well done. You keep your idle hands busy, accepting drink after drink, a shot of tequila, another of rum.

You’re even dressed up, cute as a button. Sweet as cream, honey on the hive.

Your hiccups ring out from across the room directly to his ears, chest shaking with each one. The bar is at max volume, shouting, cheering, chattering, but he can hear you crystal clear. Can hear the high pitch echo of each one, can hear your throat bobbing, the long exhale singing from your nose after trying to hold your breath. “I need some air,” you say to your neighbor, “be right back.”

He downs the last of his bourbon, subtle fire in his throat, and then makes for the back door.

Your arms are crossed, leaning against the brick with your head tipped back, eyes closed. Wearing a knit sweater, a skirt, and wool leggings, for fucks sake. “Dangerous place to be, a little girl all alone.” Your eyes snap wide, startled.

“Simon,” you don’t stutter his name, liquor easing your nerves, sweetening you up to a slaughter like the little lamb you are. Your ability to assess risk is long gone, and when you peek over at him, head rolling, the usual skittish haunt of your gaze is nowhere to be found.

“Out for a smoke?”

“No, just some fresh air.”

“Poor lamb. Drink too much?” You shrug, steadying your balance against the wall. Trying to appear more with it than he knows you are.

He stalks closer, closer than you should be comfortable with, but you only sigh, wilted as the grass withered by the impending winter.

He tests. Probes. Brushes a hand against yours, watches how you tip a little to the side, his side, eyes glassy between hard blinks. “You’re so sweet, little lamb.”

“Oh,” you make an o with your lips when you say it, like you’re suprised. “T-thank you.”

“Do you taste sweet, you think?” You jolt, but he handles your hip like he’s afraid you’ll fall, though you have a better grasp on your balance than you think you do. “Hmm?”

“I’m… I’m not sure.” It’s a race now, one you’re desperate to catch up in, but falling behind faster and faster.

Hook. String. Pull.

“Open your mouth.” You do, on instinct, and he hums with approval. “Good girl.” He sticks his thumb inside, depressing your tongue, shoving back and to the side, hard enough he stretches the corner of your lip, and then tugs.

Hooked.

You’re too drunk to process it, not really. Enflamed with a rollercoaster of shock, shame and disgust. But beneath it all, something else rises, breaks at the surface for air. Desire.

He doesn’t waste the moment, hands splayed at your ribcage, shoving you back against the wall, your shoulders slamming into it. He’s on you, rabid, wolf at the throat of a lamb, tongue forcing its way between your teeth without permission. You jerk, tense, muscles shifting like you might put your arms up, but instead they fall limply to your sides, and you moan.

String.

The length of his torso, chest and stomach press against you, hold you in place, allowing him free rein to wrap his fingers into the fine fabric of your wool stockings and rip. The shocked little gasp falls from you as expected, but you’re too far gone to fight. Prize on the line, he tugs them aside and strokes over your folds, already wet for him, dipping into your cunt, tight and fluttering around his invasion.

“Si- Simon- stop.” You push at him shoulders, trying and failing, squirming and whining. He shoves deeper, one nearly too much, two an impossible fit.

“Why would I stop when you’re so wet f’me little girl?” He presses the swell of his cock against you, your walls clenching at the contact, and he chuckles darkly. “Gonna say you don’t want this, sweet lamb? Gonna lie when this little pussy is dripping all over my hand?” You’re scandalized. Ripped from your comfort and thrown ashore, a fish out of water, gasping on land. He breathes into your neck, biting and sucking his way back up to your mouth where he distracts you for a brief moment, long enough to tip your balance to the side, a stutter step disrupting your focus, and delivers an opportune strike to snatch your glasses off your face so fast you flinch backwards in the confusion. He manages to cup your head just in time and cushion its bounce against the brick.

Pull.

“My glasses.” Your voice trembles, and he’s surprised to feel a twinge of guilt. Don’t worry little one. He’ll pull you apart, but he’ll put you back together. Eventually. “Simon… my- my glasses, do you see my glasses?”

“No, sorry. It’s too dark, sweet thing.” You tear up, horrified, and they spill down your cheeks, fat and wet, leaving tracks all the way to your neck.

He licks them with glee.

“I need to-“ he pays you no mind, returning to his work, his meal, shoving your knee to the side and lifting you up the wall, until the smear of you cunt weeps all over his jeans. “I need-“

“Know what you need, little girl.” He shreds your leggings wider, tearing a hole big enough to expose your thighs, your lower belly. Later, when he has you pinned to his bed, he’ll eat you until you can’t speak or see, but for now, bludgeoning the entirety of his cock into this too tight space will have to do.

You hiccup again. It’s too sweet, rots his soul. He wonders if you’ll be here, when he gets back. If you’ll run, or if you’ll wait. Maybe he’ll give you something to remember him by, knock you up, nice and fat by summer, heavy with a piece of him. Maybe.

He slides his zipper now, pulling the weight of his cock free, sliding the head through your slit as you look down. You can’t see, how big, how thick, how impossible it looks, head trying to push into you, your body unyielding, spasming as he batters his way inside. You claw at his shoulders, spitting out a half moan, a half sob, and he taps his forehead to yours. “It’s too m-much, too- hurts-“

“Don’t fight it. You’ve got plenty of room, be good.” He soothes with a lie, probably. You’re so tight he can feel you in his bones, restricting, bearing down. He pushes, heat and slick closing in around him, making him dizzy, his pulse pounding in his ears. “Fuck- that’s it. Feel that?” He drags your hand to the root of his cock, splaying your fingers around the base. “Feel yourself splittin’ open on me?” You moan some nonsense, some sort of garbage mixed with a yes, and a no. “Perfect little pussy, stretchin’ for me, yeah?” Only for me.

He fucks you so hard you’re shoving higher and higher up the wall, cunt choking him with each thrust, your fingers twisted in his sweatshirt, clinging on for dear life, a sailor in a storm. Lost in the fuzzy, blurry world without your glasses, he gives you a port in the dark, a lighthouse calling you home. He spreads you wide, rolling over your clit, pinching, thumbing, finding the rhythm that makes your buzz, hips starting to jerk, swallow him up.

Unbelievably, you tighten up even more, eyes slamming shut, and he holds you steady at your hips, driving deep, mouth on your ear. “Gonna be good and cum? Gonna show daddy how good you can be and cum all over his cock?” You gasp, and he drags you to it, pushes you over, rolls your shoulders back against the brick when you curl forward, pussy so tight it tries to force him out. You scream with it, but he covers your mouth, palm to your tongue, elbow at your collarbone. He’s relentless now, shoving himself until there isn’t a space inside you not filled with him, as fast as possible, body like a ragdoll. When he’s on the edge, teetering so close, he pinches your cheeks. “Open up, little lamb.” Your brow furrows, but partially blind, you’re more trusting, and you do as you’re asked. His hips piston, a rough saw, chasing, sprinting towards the end, heat climbing down his spine and across every muscle until he’s shoved so deep inside you he thinks he’s in your belly, and rears back, sucking a glob of spit to his lips and launching it into your mouth, just as he floods your pussy with cum. He jerks inside you, slow strokes, and you hang limply against him, fucked out, still drunk, docile as a lamb.

You hiss when he pulls free and lurch forward against his chest, not able to stand on your own. “C’mon, let’s get you a bath.” He murmurs into your hair, and you protest weakly.

“My glasses.”

“I’ll find ‘em.” He vows, patting their safe spot in his front pocket. “Don’t worry.”

[humanpurposes]

Can I Be Yours? - Nightblooms II

Aemond returns to the pleasure house after the battle of Rook's Rest // Main Masterlist

Aemond x unnamed female character

Warnings: 18+, smut, dub-con, angst, sex work, unresolved childhood trauma, implied underage and non-con (not explicitly depicted), mentions of war, violence and death, ambiguous ending

Words: 3k

Each day she arrives at the market shortly after sunrise. She has the coin to pay for the usual cheap cuts of meat, for fats and vegetables to make into something edible, but there is nothing to buy; most of the vendors have sold the last of their wares. Summer is at an end, there are less crops coming from the Reach and the sea is still cut off with no end in sight to the blockade. 

King’s Landing has never been a place where she feels at ease but as the season shifts and the war goes on, families are starving and people are getting desperate, fighting over what they can get their hands on. They’ve all been reduced to dogs, clawing at each other over scraps while carts of livestock and fresh produce trundle through the streets towards the Red Keep, guarded by men in Hightower green.

She manages to buy some crabs and vegetables she’ll have to cut the mould from. They have a store of grain in the kitchens to make flatbread, though they have to use less and less each day, anticipating when they’ll be able to find more.

She eats less of her share so the younger girls won’t have to go hungry. Besides, she hasn’t had much of an appetite for days.

She had spent hours trying to rinse herself clean of the King and his companions after they’d had their way with her– after Aemond had left her to their mercy. That night she scrubbed at her skin with salt, then a cloth, then a bristled brush. That feeling was still there, like sweat sticking to her skin, like her body was not her own. She heard their voices and their cold laughter with the rush of water past her ears. She scrubbed harder and harder until she tinted the water pink with her blood.

One morning, one of the girls returns to the pleasure house, unsuccessful in finding a cure for her babe’s fever, but startled by something else.

The Hightower army has returned from a battle, dragging the head of a dragon on a cart through the city.

“It’s monstrous,” the girl says, trying to measure the scale of the head with her arms. “It had black blood, and gods, the smell, like charred meat!”

Sylvi hovers over her shoulder. “Slain by your favourite, I wonder?”

Favourite? Clearly she was not so favoured by Prince Aemond.

Men are led by their desires. That’s why, even as the city is starving, they find the money to come here and seek their pleasure. They are fickle, easily satiated and have no loyalties but to themselves, to their own preservation.

Sylvi huffs when she does not react to her teasing. “Seven above, do try to look less miserable, girl.”

She’s been trying for days, but she can’t force a pleasant demeanour when she feels so hollow.

The returning soldiers come to the Street of Silk that night, newly paid and come to bask in their victory. Her gown is a deep shade of blue and Sylvi has given her some of her jewellery, sapphire earrings and a heavy gold necklace that feels like a collar, to cover the bruises on her neck left by the King.

She catches the eye of a soldier in the main chamber. He takes her by the waist and drags her onto his thigh.

He moves clumsily, trying to drag her core against his leg or the bulge in his breeches, she cannot tell and she does not care. 

Look less miserable, it’s only a motion of the body.

Look less miserable, men want a woman who is warm, who smiles.

Look less miserable, but has he noticed her fallen face and the empty look in her eyes? Likely not.

Her body feels numb again.

“Look at me,” the man demands.

She turns her head towards him but her eyes are down, elsewhere completely. She pictures candlelight, a veil around the edges of a bed so the bodies around her are like shadows. She feels a weight on her chest and stomach, limbs intertwined with hers, long, loose hair spilling over her bare skin. A voice is just out of reach.

Look at me, look at me, look at me–

“My Prince!”

Her senses come back to her as quickly as a match takes to flame. Her head darts to where the soldier is looking, to the man standing before them, dark leathers, silver hair, an eyepatch over his face and a sword hanging from his hip.

Aemond tilts his head, his one eye intent on her. 

“Apologies, Prince Regent,” the soldier says, and shoves her off his lap so he can stand.

She stumbles but holds her ground. Her eyes are on the floor but imagining his face frowning in displeasure, the sight of his scar, the lines of his muscles under his skin. She cannot bear to truly look upon him, but he’s watching her.

Why come now? Why her, when she has already proved worthless to him?

“Come,” Aemond says without reaching for her, without waiting for her to match his gaze. She follows, if only to escape the wanton soldier.

Aemond takes her to the same chamber, standing at the foot of the same bed where they used to lay together.

She stands before him with her eyes lowered.

He towers over her and lifts her chin to match his gaze with a gloved hand. The leather against her skin is unnatural, cold, disturbing her very being like ripples through a peaceful surface of water. The sight of him only brings her pain, as does the separation from him. Fear and admiration twist together and writhe in her gut.

He reaches to remove the necklace first, letting it fall to the floor. “An ugly thing,” he mutters, “do not wear this again, I find it distracting.” It bares her bruises. He traces his gloved fingers over the flushes of red and purple in her skin.

Next he undoes her dress, another gown designed to fall away from one clasp. She does not remove the rest to bare herself, so he tugs the gown away himself, pulling her forward by her wrists to make her step away from where it pools on the floor.

Without any further preamble he surges into her, cupping her jaw with his hands and kissing her passionately. He demands reception with his lips, tongue and teeth, but she will not give it to him. She remains as steadfast as she can.

He pauses, kissing her again, then again.

“What’s the matter?” His voice is subtle and as soft as the edge of a knife. Gently, he takes a hold of her neck. It is tender, but not quite a comfort. Her pulse beats furiously against his fingers. “You are angry with me, is that it?”

Has he thought of her these last few days? Does he blame himself for the bruises on her neck? 

She says nothing.

“I’ll not fuck an unwilling whore.”

“No,” it falls from her lips like a breath.

Aemond tuts and tilts his head. “No?”

She parts her lips but she cannot speak.

His one-eyed stare darkens. He will take her silence for defiance, and that is not what he pays for.

If all he seeks is carnal desire she will grant him this. She tears away the layers of him, his gloves, the buckles on his jerkin, her fingers fumbling in her determination.

Aemond grunts as she pushes the sleeves from his shoulders, the leather landing with a heavy thud on the floor. His face is perplexed but he does not resist.

She tugs at the strings of his undershirt and pulls it over his head. When his chest is bare she puts her hands on his shoulders and pulls herself in, crashing her lips into his. Everything becomes a single feeling, a fire in her chest, hurt and rage and— she’s not naive enough to call it love, but it’s an urge that spurns her to be close to him. Their teeth clash. She loses her focus and her lips graze over his cheek. She finds him again, drawing her tongue against his, dragging her teeth over his lip–

“Fuck!” Aemond hisses, snatching himself away from her. He dabs his fingertips to his lip, checking for blood that isn’t there. 

His eye is wide but gleaming, excited at the challenge. 

Her heart leaps when Aemond grasps her jaw. He drags her chin up, fingertips pressing into the bone. “I find your insolence tiresome,” he snarls.

The edge of his nose brushes against hers. She feels his breath, how his chest rises and falls against her body, how his heart beats as frantically as hers.

She shakes her head. “I am yours, my Prince.”

He lays her on the bed, pushing her thighs apart and holding them down as he kneels.

He sighs at the sight of her.

Each drag of his tongue is divine, circling and pressing at the places he has come to know will please her the most. She tries to chase the friction with her hips but he holds her firmly in place.

She reaches for his hair, slipping the eyepatch from his face so she can see all of him. He looks up at her as she does, his lips glistening with her arousal while his sapphire consumes the golden light of the candles. 

Between the movements of his mouth he mutters to himself, words she has heard before but does not know the meaning to. His voice is heavy and breathless and she adores it. 

Her peak comes suddenly, a wave of warmth and weightlessness that lingers after Aemond has drawn his mouth away from her.

He’s just out of her reach, standing over the bed and slowly pulling on the strings of his breeches. 

She brings herself to sit, only to be thrown down again and roughly turned onto her front.

“Aemond?”

His hands pull her up by her hips. His thumb glides in circles over her entrance and she stutters into compliance. There’s a ruffle of fabric before he replaces his digit with the head of his cock. He teases her as he rocks back and forth. The pleasure is sparse, a delicious kind of torture. She grips at the linens and sinks her teeth into her lip.

On one motion of his hips, Aemond slips inside of her. She sighs at the stretch of it. He stills for a moment to let her adjust, pushing himself to the hilt and slowly drawing back. She feels how his fingertips dig into her flesh, marks that will stay for days. She can picture the look in his eye, his resolve melting away.

She props herself up on her hands, turning over her shoulder. He meets her, pressing his nose against her cheek, teasing his lips over her skin.

“Do you still find me insolent?” she whispers.

Aemond hums. 

He draws back, only to snap his hips harshly into her rear. It knocks the breath from her lungs and he holds his arm around her to hold her close to him, his palm pressing into her stomach as he fucks her roughly and without reprieve.

This is the Prince she has only ever seen glimpses of. She’s heard the workings of his mind and his regrets, but she’s never seen him unleash himself, a dragonrider, a warrior, now a demanding lover.

Each kiss of his cock at her sweet spot aches and drives her towards bliss. She grasps at his hand, leaning her head into his. His sweat drips onto her brow. His moans fall upon the shell of her ear.

She feels another peak edging closer when Aemond pushes her torso down against the bed. He keeps his hands on her shoulders. Her own moans are muffled against the mattress and she cannot move. She can only take what she is given, fast fucking and brutal precision. 

He comes with a unrestrained groan, spilling himself deep within her cunt. His weight falls against her back and he nestles his face into her neck, whispering some appraisal in an ancient language, gently fucking his seed deeper.

She whines as she catches her breath, letting herself settle with him on top of her. They stay like this for a time. Before he finally moves, Aemond presses a delicate kiss to her brow.

They lay amongst linen and silk, his head on her chest, his arms wrapped around her ribs, moving with her as she breathes. 

He tells her of Rook’s Rest, of his plan to attack during the daylight and bait their enemy into sending a dragon, then he would lead Vhagar into an ambush. He had not expected Aegon to join the battle, and when the smoke cleared, only Aemond and Vhagar remained unscathed.

“Perhaps I should have been more forgiving, but he got in my way.”

What did you do? She wonders, but cannot bring herself to give a voice to her question. 

That soldier had named Aemond as Regent. Not the title he wants, but it is a brutal reminder that only one life stands between him and the throne he pursues. 

“And even when he is… incapacitated, my victory is named as his. It was meant to be mine.”

The dragon head was his doing after all. 

Tears run freely down her cheeks, not that he will see.

He takes a breath and waits. She’s done this enough times by now to know he’s waiting for her to say something. He needs her to say something.

What loyalty has your brother ever shown you? He knows you were better suited to war, at least now he will not overestimate himself.

She does not wish to think of Aegon. 

“You left me,” she utters.

Aemond tilts his head towards her. She meets his eye. When he sees the tears on her face his own expression softens.

“You left me to entertain those men. You didn’t even look back.”

Aemond swallows thickly, making a soft clicking sound with his tongue. “I had to.”

“Had to?”

“You would not understand.”

“I understand perfectly. You are a Prince. To you, I am nothing but a body to be used.”

“I’ve never said that.”

“You do not need to say it. It is the nature of the world we live in.” 

He shifts himself to lay beside her, face-to-face. His thumb strokes over her cheek and at the corner of her mouth. “I’ve only ever admired you,” he says. “You came to me when I felt alone.”

Back when they were children, when she was innocent enough to think the gods favoured those who were kind, merciful, good. 

“You looked lost. I was the same the first time…” the first time Sylvi brought her into a room with a strange man. When she sees girls of the same age, she wants to take them into her arms and shield them from strangers, from the people who promise to care for them and do not. “I knew how it felt to be used and then discarded, like none of it mattered. But it did. It mattered to me.” 

Aemond’s eye shimmers like glass.

“I needed you, do you understand that? I needed your protection,” she says.

He blinks and a tear falls from his eye. 

“You taunt me with this,” she says, wiping it away with her thumb.

He holds her hand against his jaw. “I’m not trying to taunt you,” he pleads. “You are the only one, the only one I can speak my mind to.”

She has seen his pride, his remorse, his shame, but she has never seen fear in Aemond. She does now. He clasps onto her hand like she’ll fade away.

“I try. I know my place in my family. I know what they need of me. I try, but I am not always strong enough.”

Jaehaerys, the little Prince who lost his head. He has a sister and a mother grieving his loss, what of them?

What of Aegon?

“I’ll protect you,” he says, kissing the heel of her palm, the inside of her wrist.

How will he do that? Before morning he will leave a purse of gold in her hand and return to his Keep. While he plots his war and demands taxes and tithes from the people of the Crownlands, she will endure in a city that is slowly starving to death.

And when the war of dragons comes to the skies over King’s Landing? Will he pick her out from the masses atop Vhagar? Will he find a way to spare her from the fire and the bloodshed?

It does not bear thinking about. She holds him and tries to forget anything other than this feeling, his weight and warmth, his hair between her fingertips, the points in his bones, his legs intertwined with hers. Everything about him that is cold and cruel. Everything about him that is quietly beautiful.

I've kinda given up on taglists <3

[orbitariums]

older art x younger black reader sugar daddy aspect... short lil smut included with breeding kink... art is grown and tired as ever but the most alive when he's with you.

older! art + younger black reader is something so sacred like. he's absolutely smitten by you, obsessed, and not shy about showing it. your laugh is like tinkling bells to him, and you laugh a lot. you're so innocent in the sense that you haven't been marked with the scar of age that mars your joie de vivre. each time you laugh, really laugh with the full force of your body, throwing your head back so your nose aligns with the stars, he just grins up at you in pure bliss.

you're so gentle with each other – when you're out walking together he always holds your hand, pulls you gently aside when a bike whizzes by. when he's tired after a day of training you straddle his lap on the edge of the bed, arms wrapped around his neck and pressing your forehead to his, like you're trying to telecommunicate a feeling of calm. you never fight, at least not the way art used to in his past relationships. if you're upset about something, you listen to each other. you come to a compromise. you sleep on it and revisit it the next day with a fresh mind (but you never go to bed angry). he speaks to you in dulcet, crooning tones — "you okay honey?" "i know baby."

he buys you whatever you want. if you're out with him you might as well leave your wallet at home. art is your wallet. he knows it and doesn't even think twice about it. even when you do try to pay for something, he's already taken care of it or he's stepping in front of you wordlessly and tapping his card. if you want something, it's in your hands in a heartbeat, no matter how expensive. if you even mention a bag you’ve been eyeing, it’s at your doorstep the next day.

you've introduced him to so many new things aligning with your generation. sometimes it's hard not to feel like an old fogey, but he takes a genuine interest in filming your tiktoks, brainstorming instagram post captions, and rating movies on letterboxd with you. his latest favorite has been watching reels and tiktoks of wig installs with you. he's practically begging you to let him do your braid down. you settle on letting him do the voiceover for your grwm tiktoks instead. you even enrich his taste palate — he'd never had or heard of seafood boil before you and now slapping on a pair of plastic gloves and getting king crab legs is your favorite thing to do on date nights.

you've taken to your own nicknames for him — "artie", "pookie", "my love." the most curious one though, and possibly his favorite — is "baby daddy."

you'd said it one time casually in conversation after he bought you a dress you'd tried on in the airport before your flight to fiji, hugging him close at the register and doting on him,

"thank you baby daddy!"

he stills when he hears you say it, swipes his card wordlessly and heads out of the shop with you still clung to his hip. while you're sitting in the lounge at the airport, he suddenly needs clarification,

"baby daddy? doesn't that imply that... i'm the father of your children?"

"huh...?" you were occupied with your nails. you looked up at him, noting the slightly clouded expression on his face. "i mean, technically yeah. but it's just a cute pet name to me. why, do you not like it?"

"i like it," was all art said in reply, and you placed a big kiss on his cheek, snuggling into his neck.

later that night in the hotel room, you're pressed beneath art as he places practically all of his weight on top of you. his hips are rolling into yours, unforgivably deep and penetrating. you can feel the curvature of his body digging against you. he can feel the plush of your breasts and the sweat slicking between the two of you. you're moaning raucously into his ear, fingers combing through his hair, damp with sweat.

"i'm your baby daddy?" he questions, his mouth pressed against your ear. you whimper when you hear it from him, low and imploring, even though he knows you can't respond right now. he's fucking you too good and he knows it, knows when you've reached an unresponsive state while he fucks you into oblivion. "want me to pump you full of my fucking kids? feed your pussy my cum?"

you're pulsing around him like crazy the more he talks, and he pulls away just slightly so he can see your face. his eyes gazing into yours, he asks,

"hmm? you want that? you want me to get you pregnant?"

his thrusts grow sharper and quicker, and somehow deeper. you yelp at the pleasure, and nod vigorously as you throw your hand over your mouth.

"art," you can barely whisper. he nods, his jaw grit so hard it's visible through his cheeks.

"i know baby, i know. i wanna hear you say it. want you to cum around this cock while you say it."

your back arches off the bed as you squeal,

"fuck, daddy, yes! i want you to get me fucking pregnant, want you to fill this pussy up with your cum, please."

it's like that sends him into overdrive and he fucks you at a pace you didn't know was previously possible. you're shaking as he thrusts harshly into you, pulsating around his dick and squeezing him with a vice grip when you finally come.

art's head hangs when he feels you squeeze around him and his thrusts start to grow stuttered and sloppy as he whimpers your name,

"fuck, yn. make me come, yes."

as promised, he shoots ropes of cum inside of you. when you think he's done, there's still more, painting your insides and eventually oozing out of you. two slow, redeeming thrusts to keep it all inside of you, and he's finally slowly pulling out. the both of you watch as some of it drips out of you. art rushes to finger it back inside of your sensitive, sore pussy. but you have no complaints.

he collapses beside you and you immediately bury yourself into his side.

"so baby daddy does it for you, huh?" you giggle.

art sighs deeply, resting one hand on your shoulder and the other on his stomach. even he is in awe of himself. he takes a deep breath, trying to commit the memory of your pussy dripping with his cum to his mind,

"you could say that."

[sis-goleona]

Title: Half dead?-(part two to the Half dead? series)

Pairing: The Cat King x Male! Reader

Word Count: 1,724

Summary: The King remembers how he found the reader...Something quite demonic.

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four

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Thomas held the silver plate delicately in both of his hands, keeping the plate steady to ensure none of the strategically placed food slipped off. He rarely made dinner for anyone other than himself, the cats in his care had their means of finding sustenance. The food in question was various types of shellfish, crab legs, shrimp, and lobster tail. The king ensured he cooked the most expensive cuts to impress his special guest. The cats dragged a few bottles of water on a towel behind them. Thomas was pleased that these cats decided to help out of their own volition, usually, they are less than helpful when the king needs to get a job done....the cats are stubborn (much like him, but he won't admit that) they only do things if it benefits them. Cats are cats and nobody knows that better than the Cat King himself. Stepping into his bedroom, the yellow-eyed immortal took in the sight before him. The reader was fast asleep on the rounded bed in the center of the room. His eyes were shut and brows tightly knit together, he looked ... feverish, sickly almost, though the life did come back into his features, a stark difference from when he first laid eyes on him. The reader’s arms lay still by his sides, his hands lay just below his stomach; careful not to touch the large wound that spread from the top of his chest to his navel. When the cat king first laid eyes on the reader he was very unaware of the type of injuries he had sustained.

The king followed his little creatures out into the deep greenery of Port Townsend, a dense forest that lay delicately on the edge of the ocean. Thomas didn’t leave his warehouse all that often but when his cats called for him he was sure to follow. Any type of disturbance that may cause harm to his friends needs to be dealt with immediately. Especially now that the Witch is gone and dead he needed to keep his yellow eyes out for danger, constantly. It was just the break of a golden dawn when his cats alerted him to a gruesome sight; at the very edge of the lush green forest was a man, he lay face down on the grass, a dark black thick fluid surrounded his body, his arm was stretched out and lied limply, the liquid covering the entirety of the hand. This person wore what looked to be an oversized sweatshirt that covered the upper half of his body and stopped short at his wrists which were barely recognizable. He wore a pair of light gray well what looked to be light gray slacks, the liquid covered the pants but left splotches of untouched fabric. The unusual part about the whole thing was, that he wasn’t wearing shoes, just a pair of multicolored socks that were darkened and stained by grass, dirt, and whatever the liquid was. The cat king’s eyes scanned the area, nothing out of place in the normally quiet port town. A soft meow beckoned his attention, a brown tabby cat looked up at their king with a glint in their sharp green eyes, usually a look cats give when they have found a prize or brought in a plump rat as an offering for the king. The object of the feline’s obsession was a boot, a light pastel purple color that surrounded most of the leathery fabric, the base was made of black semi-translucent rubber there was an orange string that weaved in and out of the trim to sew the leather and rubber together. ‘Funny’, he thought, this boot color is so bright compared to the limp body’s dark clothing. Of course, the thought that this shoe may not belong to him ran across his mind, but in the small port town, not many people left their newly, expensive-looking boots destitute in the woods. Slowly; Thomas stepped toward the unnamed body that lay unmoving across the crisp early morning grass. The sound of gravel crunching underneath the yellow eye’s shoes and a couple of inquisitive meows from his furry companions filled the early morning air, “weird” the king muttered to himself, there were no other sounds in the forest, it was incredibly quiet usually the woods are full of songs from the wildlife but there was no chirping from birds or crickets making whatever sound crickets make nor was there any scuttering of little rodents. No matter, he needed to see if this human was still alive. He finally got close enough to see the texture of the sweatshirt and to smell the iconic metallic smell of blood, except this was not blood it was a pure black thick substance. The king squatted down to the level of the man’s head. And in this proximity, he picked up the scent of…rotten eggs…” fuck that's sulfur” All different kinds of alarm bells went off in his brain; black liquid, rotten egg smell “Children, let’s get this human back to the warehouse, there is a demon loose in port Townsend and I have a feeling they can tell us a few things” Thomas announced to the cats that surrounded him, they all looked up in unison a familiar look of distaste riddled in between their feline features. 

Reader stirred in his sleep alerted by the sound of soft footsteps and light purring from the five cats behind their king. Thomas looked around, finding a steel table to prop the plate on. His feet carried him to the reader's bedside. His yellow feline eyes took in the features that made up the resting human’s face, It was soft looking; supple yet textured it looked like skin yes..but the king wanted to reach out his hand and delicately place his fingers upon his cheeks and carry them down to his slightly parted lips, he wanted to see if the human skin felt exactly how it looked. He stopped his movements sharply, his hand suspended right above the sleeping face, he realized he was acting on his imagination, he brought his arm down to the collarbone of the sleeping man and shook him lightly. Reader’s eyes shot open, fear immediately replacing those calm and relaxed features. His whole body tensed while his eyes took in his surroundings, and then they landed on the raised eyebrows of his host, he allowed his body to relax once more. “Sorry, love didn’t mean to startle you,” the king said with a coy smile. Reader sucked in his bottom lip, letting it rest in between his teeth, a movement the king picked up on, it was so very inviting. ‘Right,’ the king thought to himself ‘food for the guest’. Thomas, again, picks up the plate and proceeds to set it down in front of Reader.

Upon seeing the plate full of white meaty sustenance his face drops....he was oh so hungry but nothing on that plate will be able to touch him. Thomas immediately understood the expression on his face...disappointment. The king tried his best not to get upset, he went all out for this dish! And even the sight of it made the reader disappointed.

"I cannot eat shell...fish," he said suddenly, his hands quick to motion. "Allergic". Thomas read over his face again, he looked almost apologetic, like it was his fault he couldn't eat the one thing he was allergic to. The yellow-eyed king sighed and replaced his frown with a soft smile. He closed his eyes, relieved to know that his guest wasn't all that disappointed. "You know what? I should have asked if you had any dietary restrictions...My bad". The reader also let a small smile rest upon his lips. But a growl that erupted from his stomach stopped this rather sweet interaction. "Right, um...how about PB&J? Will that work" Thomas hoped this would suffice, he didn't have that much food in his fridge, just shellfish and ingredients for a PB&J. The king thanked his lucky stars that the reader didn't have to wait any longer for food. What kind of host would he be if he left the poor sickly boy all alone in his bed while he went out...He definitely didn't want the reader to get into any of his stuff while he was away! That's what he told himself, he didn't want to admit to himself that he didn't want the reader to leave him. Now and then Thomas would think back to Edwin, those words he spoke in their last meeting "We're both lonely" Lonely? LONELY? As if I, the cat king who is surrounded by loyal followers could ever be lonely. At least that's what he told himself...He knew deep down that it was true, he also knew that Edwin's leaving caused a lot more sorrow than others who had left him before. "That sounds good" the groggy voice spoke out, quickly cutting the Cat King's thoughts into pieces. "Great...actually...I'm h-hungry" Now this was the most the reader had spoken in a while, and he felt it in his throat. It was beyond dry and he was in desperate need of liquid. It almost made him gag, the friction was overbearing. He let out a raspy cough that felt like the delicate flesh of his throat was ripping itself apart. The reader grasped his neck as a means to stop the pain, but it provided little comfort. Thomas quickly picked the cold bottle up and brought it to the reader, in hopes that it would soothe whatever spell hit him. 

Once calmed down. (And fed) the yellow-eyed king took a seat on the edge of the circular bed, it dipped ever so slightly under his weight, the sheets rippled and pulled in response to the sudden change. He drew in a deep breath, it filled his lungs and raised his chest. He held it there for a bit before exhaling. He was preparing himself to ask the question about how the reader had attained those horrific cut wounds that traversed his body. The king thought back to when he found the body and all the evidence that led to the idea of a demon being somewhat involved…He needed the reader to explain what the hell had happened out there. “Reader…let’s talk about the demon that tried to murder you” 

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The second part is officially done. If you guys read this and have any criticism please let me know! this is the first time that I have written a short story and posted it. Thank you so much!!!!!

-Love Author Sybil

[ramu-ego]

(nsfw) ROPE BUNNIES :: x femdom!Reader

♡ - requests open cw: fem!Reader, dom!Reader, aged up, bondage/bdsm themes, nipple play, handjob(s), anal fingering, pegging/cum lube, vaginal penetration (Nagi's), sex toys, general sexual themes word count: scenario headcanons character(s): Barou Shoei, Itoshi Rin, Koun Wataru, Bachira Meguru, Nagi Seishiro

DNI :: minors, blank blogs + m!Reader blogs

THE CRAB :: nylon ropes + nipple play

Barou huffed, face flush with color almost as rosy as his nipples and red eyes in a dull haze after you'd peeled the tape off of one of the bullet vibrators previously adhered to his chest. One still alive and humming on his pec as he watched you take the rest of the tape off the other tiny vibrator with a grin. "Ahh look how much you like it my king." You rolled the hard plastic between your fingers while your other hand reached out to pinch and pluck at his uncovered nipple. Immediately getting Barou to rolls his eyes into the back of his head. Muscles jumping to life as they strained against the ropes criss-crossing his chest as well as the snug knots keeping his legs and arms tied together in the classic crab like pose. You smirked down at the muscle idiot soccer player under you and saw nothing but a helpless horny idiot, "Want your titties played with huh? Does the king have sensitive little tits begging to be played with?" Wedging yourself rightfully between his bound legs you turn on the freed bullet vibrator and let it gloss over his skin as you get comfortable. Barou's legs spread and bound upwards allowing you complete access to his chest. Cock, while screaming for attention with a purple and red head glistening with precum, was not your desire at the moment. Leaving him to groan deep in the back of his throat when your front leaning over him gave him only a miniscule amount of relief brushing his cum heavy balls and throbbing cock. All of that passed up in favor of cupping your hands along the ropes crossed over his chest. And squeezing the prominent muscles in the pro's chest. Pushing them together and watching Barou melt like a horny teenager getting their tits fondled for the first time. Squeezing them together and smiling you graze your thumb over Barou's one uncovered nipple as the other one was still being subjected to the bullet on it's highest setting taped to his chest. With only one uncovered you couldn't stop at just rubbing and pinching it. Leaning down and giving his cock even more to rut and grind against in his vulnerable position on his back. Your lips encircle his sensitive little bud to lavish it with attention from your tongue. Sucking and grazing your teeth over his nipple as Barou writhes in pleasure under you absolutely unable to do anything this bound up with his favorite ropes. At your mercy until you finally popped your lips off his nipple. Licking the excess salvia from your lips but letting what clung to his nipple give him shivers the second cold air hit it. Growling but powerless under you, Barou tried to glare up at you but had no real power as you once again reached out and pinched his nipple until it was growing as red and rosy as the bridge of his nose, "Lets see if you can cum from just your nipples this time...like a good boy."

THE PUPPY STYLE :: spread bar + milking

Your hands slip down and grab at the thickest part of his thighs to pull him back against your pubic bone playfully. Rin folded over in half in front of you. Face down, ass up; with his head turned only enough so the idiot didn't suffocate himself. He was for them most part immobilized by the black bar keeping his knees shoulder width apart. Perfect positioning for you. "Such a good boy..." Words thick with that sweet praising tone Rin fought tooth and nail for, you could feel him groan when he heard you. In addition to the cute butt wiggle he did back against your pelvic area, "Ah, do you wish I had the strap on?" Eyes rolling back in his head Rin's face pinched a little before he relaxed with a heavy groan, "Shut up..." Moving away from him. Releasing his hips entirely and earning a moan of protest at even the slight friction you were giving him. Rin wiggled and pulled at his cuffs keeping his hands snug next to his feet in the spread bar. His words a direct correlation to the attention he would get. And he knew this. Reaching out to caress a single finger down the seam of his cum heavy balls. You amuse yourself with the faint touch running down the underside of his cock as Rin tries with all his might to push back into you and relieve some of the ache knotting up in his stomach due to his throbbing cock. And as your finger tip swiped past his leaking tip you indulged the brat with your fist closing around his cock. "With an attitude like that you're not gonna get anything but my hand." You reprimand him with that sickeningly sweet tone but with the worst threat of them all. Rin shakes his head in deniable about that. Burying his face into the fabric under his face as the first long languid stroke of his cock sends a shiver right up his spine. Goosebumps prickling all over his skin you can't help but draw a feathery touch down his spine as your fist slowly pumps away at his cock, "Is that really a threat though when you love to be milked like a common animal?" Rin could snap at the strongest of teammates. Argue with world super stars on a global scale. But you. You were impossible to disagree with. Not when his cock continued to leak into your fist. Fingers curled around his throbbing length in the most delicate way. Pumping him up and down slowly as your free hand switched from stroking down his sensitive spine to fondling his balls. Rin couldn't fight back because as long as he remained strapped into his spread bar, he would always be nothing more than a common animal you could milk dry.

BOXTIE :: fingering + cock rings

One prominent vein running up the side of his cock throbbed the second Kuon saw you dip your fingers in the lube. Sticky fingers scissoring and spreading the lube about on your digits right in front of his face. His face heating up as he looked down at himself naked, on his knees with his arms pinned behind his back with the ropes crossing over his torso. "You look so good in this color baby..." You hinted at the purple role, just a little shiny, looking absolutely drop dead gorgeous on him now that he was all done up like a little present for you. Leaning forward so your tits pressed into his bare chest, your lube covered finger slipped down between his cheeks to tease his enterance as you nipped at his ear lobe, "Lemme see if I can make you put some white on those pretty new ropes." Out came a shaky breath that only turned into a choked moan when Kuon pressed back into your fingers. Gooey wetness of the lube giving way quickly to the filling pleasure of your fingers searching for the right spot inside him. An easy mark to find when your slow search pushed your knuckles in deeper and one slight curl of your finger found the perfect spot. Kuon's cock twitching between your bodies. While the cockring around his base prevented him from blowing his load this early in the scene. Your perfect mark against his prostate was only made worse when a thicker bead of precum streaked with white bubbled from his slit. "S-Shit-" Kuon managed feeling the bit of water cum wanting to leave his cock but the cockring making it impossible for him to blow his load so quickly, "I- I wanna cum-" Introducing the other slimy finger into him, you succeeded in drawing out another milky white drop of cum from the tip of his untouched cock. Smearing most of his juices on his own abs. But you helped out by mashing your tits into his chest and letting your breath tickle his neck as you slowly began pumping your fingers in and out of him, "If I wanted you to cum would I have put the ring on you?" A moment of silence, a slight shimmy back on your fingers as he tried to fuck himself on them and then a sigh when Kuon lulled his head forward against your shoulder and leaned into you, "No ma'am." "Exactly." You quickened the pace of your fingers inside him. Stirring him up and abusing that man's cute overly sensitive prostate as he remained bound and knelt in front of you, "Now be a good boy and save all that cum for when I ride you." Kuon, shaking with the pleasure taking over, found more and more of himself leaning into you. Until he was bent over relying on you to hold him up. Face bright red and panting. Unable to cum and unable to get more of you inside him. His cock leaked over his stomach and begged for more than just the light friction of your bellies together. But he couldn't form a coherent word with your fingers wiggling around inside him. He'd really have to wait until he finally got to blow his load to even have a coherent thought again.

REVERSE CHAIR :: breeding + pegging

"Fill me uppppp." Bachira whined as all he could do was wiggle on the chair and voice his neediness as he lulled his head over the edge of the chair, "I want your cum in me noooooow." "Jeesh you're demanding for the one tied to a chair." You placed your hands on either side of Bachira's hips and rutted the toy into him. Slight squeak of the chair that had put up with your fucking this long. Your strap disappeared into him completely and you rutted against his ass as your hands searched for what was attached to the other end of the cum tube, "Wanna be filled up to the brim huh?" With cum lube filled syringe in hand, you pushed down ever so slightly on the plunger and just that much more slimy, white fake cum was pumped into Bachira. "Fuck..." Bachira groaned as he remained limp over the back of the chair. Drool pooling in the corner of his mouth as he got that second feeling of fullness with even the meager amount of fake cum you pumped into him, "More." He managed through blissful groans. Slowly pulling out just till the tip of you toy sat at his entrance, you pushed down on the plunger some more before slipping your strap back into him fully. Thick gooiness of the cumlube making it that much easier to bottom out in Bachira as you kept pushing more and more fake cum into him. Knowing full well that he'd be happy until he was bloated with your slime if given the chance. "God you're such a slut..." You teased more with another push of the plunger. Even more of the thick mess being pumped into him and earning a pathetic groan from the soccer player tied to the chair, "I'm gonna fill you up then watch it all pour out of you like a proper creampie..." Your words always made Bachira's spine tingle and mind race. He couldn't do much but take you from his set in stone position on the chair. And as you finally pushed down on the rest of the syringe hooked up to your faux cock, Bachira was still trying to desperately wiggle down on your length even as the base of the toy was already soiled and disgusting with the lube leaking out of him. And just like you had said. You pulled out the fat silicone cock. Gushes of fake cum rushing out of him and down his balls and drooling down his cock. Bachria sighing with such relief as the sensation of being pumped full to almost empty was bliss in its own way. Only to be caught by total surprise when your hand curled around his slopy, messy cock. All the cumlube that had drooled out of him now on his cock. Leaving it a sticky slimy mess that you could stroke carefree as he remained tied to the chair. Bachira's senses immediately going on overdrive as you pumped his cock as he was tied on his knees to the chair with nowhere to go. You couldn't help giggle as you slathered the cumlube over his balls and went back to jerking him off without a sign of stopping, "Lets add some real cum to the mix, shall we monster?"

SPREAD EAGLE :: overtimulation + condoms

Three huffs and Nagi weakly pulled at the ropes keeping his legs and arms spread apart on the bed under you. He couldn't stop breathing hard as you threw your leg over his side once more. Dismounting him just to look at the cum filled condom so pathetically clinging to his cock after his orgasm. "Aww you still have some in there," You peeled the used condom and hung it up between the two of you so Nagi could see the globs of cum pooling in the tip of it just as well as you could. A disgusting little trophy and a signal that he still had more to give, "Guess we'll go again." "What a pain..." Nagi turned to mumble into the pillow under his head but showed absolutely no sign of signaling an end to this as you tore into the packaging of another condom. Even going as far as groaning when you unraveled the thing down his shaft. Stroking him for good measure and for his reaction. Before swinging your leg back over him and sinking yourself down on the fresh new condom as the one you just took off him was tied and placed next to the three already tied off and full of cum on the night stand next to you, "Can't I just cum in you...." Nagi's whine the closest to a beg you'd get out of him. "Did you earn it?" You asked, purposely moving your hips on him before he was able to form a proper answer. "N-No-" Nagi managed through gritted teeth. Both the sensation of knives tearing at his core as well as the overwhelming sensation of toe curling pleasure did their dance as his cock was once again being abused by the gummy soft walls surrounding him as you used him. The ties spreading him out on the bed more for show than formality. You could ride Nagi dry any day and he wouldn't move a muscle. Still the contrast of his skin to the beautiful red ropes excited the both of you. Paired with the slight fact that the six four man truly would have to ask you for help if he wanted out. Making it that much easier to ride him as he never went hard between orgasms just because of the simple ropes binging him helpless under you. You'd bounce on his cock and scrape your fingers down his chest until that tell tale groan left his barely open mouth. Watch the sweat bead on his forehead and make his hair clumpy. Until Nagi was curling his toes and shooting blanks into the condom like you expected him to do. But considering how much cum he was still emptying into that fourth condom. He had a ways to go until you drained him dry and decided what fun was to be had with all those wonderful balloons of cum.

[snoopsnoop07]

TIME SKIP Osamu Miya x Reader x Nanami kento

By Sophie and Phoenix

SMUT!!!! DON'T READ IN PUBLIC. 10/10 SUPER SPICY😱😱😱🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥😨😨😨😨😨😨 MAKES YOUR STOMACH DO THE THING (tapeworms) No miners interact😡😡😡😡😡 or u will face the consequences 😱😱

I was walking home back from work where I would see my glorious husband OSAMU (we all say in unions). I didn’t feel sigma today so when I came home my man was making SIGMA MEALS!!! SKIBIDI SLICERS!! i cum home and as I walked through the door I bumped into my GLORIOUS gray eyed king “Hey sweetheart” he smiled. I collapsed into his arms because I'm not feeling very alpha wolf sigma today. “M-my skibidi queen?? What happened??” He said. “Idk- but I have a very important question to ask u…” I pouted “yes my kitten?” he said."w-w-w-w-w-w-w-w-w-w-w-w-w-w-w-w-w-w-w-w-w-w-w-w-what color is my shirt!?!?” I said while Stuttering. He looks at me and lifts my chin up. He leans close to my ear and whispers “𝓽𝓽𝓲𝓮𝓷𝓮𝓼 𝓾𝓷 𝓬𝓪𝓶𝓲𝓼𝓮𝓽𝓪 𝔂 𝓾𝓷𝓪 𝓹𝓲𝓷𝓬𝓱𝓮 𝓬𝓪𝓫𝓮𝔃𝓸𝓽𝓪~….” He seductively kisses my cheeks. I blush and look at him with sparkles in my eyes “wow…. So…𝓻𝓸𝓶𝓪𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓬𝓸” I lick my lips ``well… If you're not feeling very sigma today… I just might have to cheer u up😈😈” Osamu says while looking at me with rizz “Cum with me skibidi queef ima show you how to RUMBLE” Osamu takes my hand and drags me to our humble cardboard room. We plop on our bed and start to caress each other's body. Until we hear two knocks coming from our window. It…. IT WAS NANAMI😱😱 “bae… who’s that?” Osamu says with an Atticus finch eyebrow raise “that’s my co worker NANAMI…” I say nervously. He looks at me and then him. He gets off me for a minute and opens the window. Nanami crawls in from the window and starts crab walking to the bed “don’t mind if I do!” He says while wiggling his toes and fingers in unison “boi! you sir have just won the internet😂!” Osamu says. I blush and spread my legs like a spider “now…. Make me learn how to ride an F150” I pout. “Actually.. I have something better!!!” Osamu says with one finger up. Osamu grabs Nanami's face and OMG!!! OSAMU AND NANAMI START TO MAKE OUT??? ughhhhh I'm so mad!!! Why aren't I getting attention ughhhhhhh. My eyes glow red “when my eyes glow red… 𝓡𝓾𝓷” I say. They keep making out tho!!!! I sigh and give up, but then they separate and crawl towards me. Osamu lays behind me while NANAMI is in front “let me give you the most DEVIOUS backshots lil bro, make me oil u up” Osamu smirks. Nanami smiles and starts to take me to POUND TOWN in the front while Osamu starts to give me devious shots in the back. “Put your hand up for a moment dear~” Nanami whispers. I put it up “now tell me….. put a finger deeowwn if you can SQUIRT '' I put it down and they start to go faster. I can’t even think anymore. “IM COMMING…. ITS CUMMINGGG OUTT. AHHH, AHHH, ITS CUMMING OUTTT😱😱” we all came at the same time “bazinga” we all say in unison.

THE END!!! PLS LIKE AND SUBSCRIBE IF YOUR A LITTLE POGCHAMP!!! DON'T MAKE MY INNER ALPHA CUM OUT🤬🤬🤬 don’t make me oil u up at 62:72 pm‼️🔥🔥🔥

[gabithefanwriter]

The Little Mermaid

Ariel (2023) x Female! Mermaid Reader

You are my World.

This is based off of the 2023 version. I’ll be making more Ariel one shots in the future (more of Halle’s, more of Ariel 1989 and genderbend Ariel?👀). Not my best work.

I haven't seen the 2023 version but Halle as Ariel has me in a chokehold. I'm not sure how many changes from the animation were made in the live action remake, so forgive any inaccuracies. Also, it's kinda rushed. I'm sorry I had an idea and I have no idea where it went. Not my best work. And it isn't edited.

Readers of any background can read this. Skin colour is not specified. Also I'm sorry for the awful changed lyrics.

"Ariel! Wait up!" I cried out after her, swimming until we were at the same speed. "What's going on?"

"I saved the prince! I brought him to the shore! His legs are so fascinating, Y/n! He is also really handsome! There were so many things that he had that I was so confused about! Oh, how I wish I could learn more about it, about him!"

I listened to every word, my own heart breaking even as I had a massive crush on her. It wasn't even a crush - I had fallen in love with her since the start of our journeys. She sang to me, how she wanted to see the world above, how she dreamed of nothing more or less.

I listened to her words, and smiled, even as we both swam out a fair distance from the grotto. She waved goodbye and swam back home and I stayed there, waving like the lunatic I am.

I swam in the grotto even after she left. I understood her, that she wanted to be part of his world, but I wanted her to stay here with me.

I looked up through the small hole at the top between the rocks and slowly twirled.

"Up there they walk,

Up there they run,

Up there they stay all day in the sun.

I wish she could see

That I want to be

Part of Her World."

I turned and looked down, only to gasp when I saw Sebastian gaping at me with wide eyes, and I couldn't help but immediately swim over. "Sebastian, don't-"

"You love Ariel?" He shrieked. I bit my lip and looked down at my f/c tail. "Well...yeah, Sebastian. What's not to love about her? Her desire to learn about others, the way her eyes twinkle when she discovers something, the way she's so easy to talk with? And let's not even get started on her beauty! Her voice - oh, how I wish I had a voice like hers. I could listen to her all day!"

"The king would support it, I'm sure! He loves having you around. He's say he views you as another daughter and already an addition to the family," Sebastian reassured. I frowned and glanced down at the red crab, a sigh slipped past my lips. "I mean - it's not just whether or not King Triton accepts me. It also depends on whether Ariel accepts me, but if I were to be honest, I think she has a type for humans, and I think she might not be into girls."

Sebastian crawled over to climb onto my arm to reach my shoulder, my h/l hair gently brushing over him as I swam to the coral reefs where I remember first meeting Ariel.

"What would she give

If she could live

Out of these waters?

But what would I pay

To hear her say

She loves me back?"

I looked up to see the sun glowing brightly above the surface. Sebastian still clung to my shoulder as I swam until I was certain that if I outstretched my hand, it would break through the surface.

"Betcha on land

They understand

The struggles with unrequited love.

Where women love women,

Although it's not uncommon,

It's improbable!"

I turned to Sebastian as we 'fell' down to the sand slowly, stretching out on the sandy bottom.

"I'm ready to hear what she's learned today,

Hold in my words as I hear her say

How fascinated she is with the upper world!

The way her tail twirled,

Eyes with passion,

Up there she might have more fun!"

I looked back up at the surface, hugging myself and flapping my tail.

"I wish she could see

I just want to be

Part of her world."

I felt Sebastian's heartbroken stare on my back, a sigh escaping past my lips. "I would do anything to have her be with me, Sebastian. I just love her so much."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

I spun around and saw the very mermaid we were talking about. I bit my tongue to suppress a gasp when she stood there, staring at me. "You love me?"

"I-uh..."

"I love you too."

She swam closer, her hand going from her

I stared at her, from her eyes to her lips, slowly swimming up and kissing her gently. Her arms wrapped around my neck as my hands went to the back of her neck and the other tangling in her hair. "I love you, Ariel."

"I love you too, Y/n." She smiled as we kissed again, pulling me until she was flushed against me.

[sixpossumsinatrenchcoat]

Memories of Defeat (part 2 of 3)

Siffrin self-destructs. The party phones a friend. (You can start from ch 1 here.)

“Hmmm…" The star strokes their shattered-glass chin. "I’m not sure it’s my place to tell you. Haha, just kidding!! Siffrin’s business is my business! They’re my special little guy!’ Isabeau turns pale. “Y-You and Sif…” “Mm~hmmmm?” “Are you—um. Were you two—” “—lovers?” the star gasps, clutching their pearls. “Are you asking if my sweet little Stardust and I have been carrying on a secret affair, right under your noses? Holding hands and stealing glances and, and… braiding each other’s hair under the stars?” They take one look at Isabeau and burst out laughing. “Oh, don’t look like that. I'm only teasing. I don’t even have hair! And Siffrin isn’t fit to be anyone’s lover. They’re more like my… hamster? My helpless little guy! I want to put him in a tank and feed them sunflower seeds! But he’s much too messed-up to date. I do have some standards.” Isabeau bristles. “Sif’s not messed up.” “Aw!” the stranger coos. “Even after all that stuff they said, you’re still so quick to leap to his defense! I guess it’s true what they say… Love sure makes you pathetic!” (“No one says that.”)

[spoiler warning for the entire game. i'm kinda beating a dead horse here but i don't intend to stop till i've reduced that horse to a mangled heap of pulp & powdered bone, so let me just say for the thousandth time this week: please please PLEASE go play In Stars And Time.]

There’s something— Someone? Someone impossible waiting under the Favor Tree. They’re mostly humanoid (or at least human-ish), with two arms and two legs in all the usual places. But where their face should be, there's only light. A shatter of blinding white, like catching sunlight in a shard of glass.

When they notice Isa and the others coming up the path, the impossible stranger’s face lights up. Literally. It’s a break in the clouds, clearing the way for an eye-watering sear of daylight. Isabeau shades his eyes, but not before the afterimage of that shattered-mirror smile is burned into the inside of his eyelids. Ow. And also: what????

Still blinking the sunspots out of his eyes, Isa elbows Mirabelle. “That’s… That’s not the King, right?”

“Definitely not,” Madame Odile says firmly.

“She’s right,” Mira agrees. She looks worried, but, to be fair, she almost always does. “All firsthand accounts agree that the King is enormous. And he’s… human, still. Even after everything. I’m not sure what that, um, creature is, but it certainly doesn’t look human.”

“Gasp!!” the stranger shouts—like, they actually shout the word ‘gasp.’ “Excu~use me!! I’m right here, you know! With perfectly functional ears, probably!”

Isabeau sets his jaw. He doesn’t really have room for any more surprises. It’s barely 9 am and he’s already exhausted. Can you blame him? It’s finally time to fight the King, and Siffrin is gone.

Maybe they had a good reason. Maybe something came up that seemed more important than saving the entire country. Or maybe they used up all their fighting spirit going all scorched-earth on the whole party’s morale. Excavating Isabeau’s darkest fears and doubts and second-guesses and forging them into a sledgehammer to swing at him.

Of course Isabeau was hurt. He’s still hurt. Siffrin was being an asshole, apparently on purpose. But mostly he’s just… confused. Flattened and embarrassed and over-exposed. What’s that expression again? ‘The mortifying ordeal of being known’?

…Well. It was definitely crabbing mortifying.

The really messed-up thing was how different Sif felt. Like a stranger wearing someone else’s face. Siffrin said all that stuff and stormed off and left Isabeau wondering if he’d ever really known them at all. Did he even know anything about them? Where they came from; what they’d seen and done? No matter how hard he racked his brain, Siffrin’s story stayed a mystery. Like maybe the Sif that Isa knew had never existed at all.

Stop, Isabeau tells himself sternly. That’s obviously not helping. “So… what do we do?”

“You guys are being so lame!!!” Bonnie huffs impatiently. “I’m just gonna say hi!!!”

Before anyone can stop them, they’re already moving, so fast that they almost crash into the impossible stranger.

“Haha, hiii~!!” the stranger giggles, beaming down at them. “Hehe… This is a little awkward, isn’t it? It’s not exactly how I thought we’d meet. To be honest, I was sort of hoping to be introduced.”

“Oh,” Mira says delicately. “I’m. Um. Sorry to hear that?”

“What the crab are you?” Bonnie demands, less delicately.

For just a second, the stranger seems to flinch. But they recover so quickly that Isabeau can’t be sure that he saw it at all.

“Who, me?” The radiant stranger bats their half-moon eyes. “Ohh, no one, really! Just a… sort of a… friend of a friend, I suppose. Which is, haha, sort of what brings me here today! Because our mutual friend is… not doing very well.”

Isabeau’s stomach twists. “You’re talking about Sif.”

“Ahh, little Sif! Yes! Love the nickname; very cute, if a bit lacking in originality. But yes, you got it in one! He’s the one who’s, ah… well… you know. Sort of… blowing themself up. So to speak.”

“How do you know Sif?” Isabeau can tell that he’s talking too loud but, in his defense, it’s been a very stressful 24 hours. “If you’re his friend, why haven’t we heard of you?”

“You mean they never mentioned me?” the stranger gasps, clutching their pearls. They hold the pose for a beat before winking. “Teehee! I’m joking, of course. I know Siffrin doesn’t tell you anything.”

Isabeau is not an angry person. He's so not an angry person that it takes him a second to recognize the feeling. But it’s undeniable. Deep down in his guts, he wants to smash this thing to glitter.

He takes a breath, lets it out. “…What is Sif to you?”

“Oh.” The impossible stranger blinks. “Huh. You know, I have no idea how to answer that.”

“You could try the truth?”

“Ohh, but that would be far too easy, wouldn’t it? Why, that’d be no fun at all! Besides, I’m not sure it’s really any of your business, teehee!”

Isabeau doesn’t even notice his hand curling into a Rock sign until Odile grabs it and pries it open.

“Get ahold of yourself,” she snaps. “And stop—feeling so much. You're encouraging them. ”

“But they—”

“I’m very much aware of that, yes. And you,” rounding on the stranger. “What’s wrong with Siffrin? In ten words or less. Do not waste our time.”

“Well!” the glittering stranger giggles. “Ma’am yes ma’am, I’m sure! I suppose I'd better get straight to it!” They frown for a moment, considering, and then count the words off on their fingers. “‘Siffrin is looping in time.’ Ooh, that was only five! Only half of what you offered! Do I get a prize?”

“There’s no prize,” Odile says harshly.

Isabeau’s head is spinning. Looping in… “What do you mean, looping in time?”

“Ooh, I’d just love to explain! But alas,” flinging a wrist over their eyes, “I’m only permitted five more words! Unless… Do you know what? I think I can work with that. How about… ‘Years of the same two days.’ —Ohhh, nooo, that was six, wasn’t it? Stars, how embarrassing!! You’ll think I can’t even count!!!”

Isabeau’s eyes narrow. There’s that word again. Stars. The sparks of light in the black of night; the way they glitter and blink… The stranger’s shattered-glass face flickers in almost the exact same way.

“No more word limits,” Madame Odile says coldly. “Tell us what you know.”

###

“...‘Looping in time,’” Mirabelle says numbly. She’s said the same thing at least a dozen times already. Probably hoping that, if she says it enough, it’ll start to make sense. (Not that it seems very likely.)

“Mhm, yup! Just the same two days, over and over and over again till all the words have lost their meaning! One great big dissociative fugue!”

“You’re lying,” Isabeau growls. “Sif wouldn’t hide something like that.”

“Wouldn’t they?” the star asks slyly. “How well do you know them, really? Where are they from? Do they have any siblings? Pets? Pastimes? Past crimes? What sort of work did he do, before he started traveling?”

No one answers.

“Well?” Gesturing imperiously with one coal-black hand. “Go on, then! It’s not a rhetorical question—I'm really looking for an answer! Can you tell me anything about them that you didn’t see firsthand?”

There's a weighty silence.

“Ah,” the star says sympathetically. “I see. So you don’t really know anything about them at all. Almost as little as they know about themself, teehee!”

“Excuse me,” Madame Odile cuts in. “I’m sorry, but this is absurd. Are we really going to indulge this? One of the fundamental forces that govern our world, rewriting itself? No one’s ever proven that Time Craft is even possible. Any prospective wielder would be killed on the spot.”

“U-Um,” Mirabelle whispers. “Except for, um… well. The King, freezing Vaugaurde in time… Isn’t that arguably, sort-of Time Craft? And Siffrin has been sort of…”

“Callous?” the star suggests. “Ruthless? As conscientious as the average battering ram? So emotionally erratic as to appear utterly unrecognizable?”

Isabeau winces. Because… yeah. Yes. That pretty much sums it up.

The star frowns thoughtfully. “Hmm! I wonder what could have happened to make little Siffrin change so radically overnight! It’s almost as though they’d gone through a traumatic experience that no one else remembers! Like these past two days passed very, very differently for them than the rest of the world!”

…It is sort of like that, isn’t it.

Isabeau’s self-control snaps. “How???”

“Great question! I’d love to learn the answer someday!”

Ugh. Then… “How long?”

The star strokes their shattered-glass chin. “Hmmm… I’m not sure it’s my place to tell you. —Haha, just kidding!! Siffrin’s business is my business! They’re my special little guy!’

Isabeau turns pale. “Y-You and Sif…”

“Mm~hmmmm?”

“Are you—um. Were you two—”

“—lovers?” the stranger gasps, clutching their pearls. “Are you asking if my sweet little Stardust and I have been carrying on a secret affair, right under your noses? Holding hands and stealing glances and, and… braiding each other’s hair under the stars?” They take one look at Isabeau and burst out laughing. “Oh, don’t look like that. I'm only teasing. I don’t even have hair! And Siffrin isn’t fit to be anyone’s lover. They’re more like my… hamster? My helpless little guy! I want to put him in a tank and feed them sunflower seeds! But he’s much too messed-up to date. I do have some standards.”

Isabeau bristles. “Sif’s not messed up.”

“Aw!” the stranger coos. “Even after all that stuff they said, you’re still so quick to leap to his defense! I guess it’s true what they say… Love sure makes you pathetic!”

“No one says that,” Isa mutters.

“But sure, I’ll tell you! Who’s gonna stop me?” The star winks. “This is, hmm, maybe their… 123th loop? 133th? It’s hard to keep count, if I’m honest! Every time I take my eyes off him, he just keeps on dying! I mean, really! Even babies have some sense of self-preservation! At a certain point, it’s just sad!”

Isabeau feels his blood go cold. It’s just— If that were true, then Sif would have been lost in time for the better part of a year. That’s longer than Isa’s even known them.

He flinches when a hand lands on his shoulder. Madame Odile.

“Are you going to keep it together?” she demands. Her mouth is pressed flat, her eyes cold.

“U-Um!!!” Mirabelle squeaks, slipping between them. “I think what she means is, are you, um, okay?”

(“That is in no way what I meant.”)

“Yeah,” Isabeau tells them both. He’s going to keep it together. And he’ll probably even be okay. Just as soon as he wraps his mind around the fact that Siffrin may or may not have been locked in time prison for months.

A shout from around hip-height jolts him back into the present.

“You guys are being so dumb!!!!” Bonnie says hotly. “Who even cares how it works!! Who cares about stupid science?? Frin’s in there doing something stupid, again!! Trying to get himself hurt, again, for no reason!!! So can we just go and save them already???”

…Oh. Yeah. Bonnie’s right, aren’t they? Whatever this entity might be, it’s no coincidence that they finally deigned to show themself right after Siffrin pushed everyone away. Sif is in trouble. And this time, they’re all alone.

The glittering stranger quirks an eyebrow. “From the mouths of babes, am I right?”

“I’m not a baby!!!!” Bonnie huffs. “I’m almost twelve!!!!”

“From the mouths of preteens,” the star concedes. “Well, then! By all means, let’s cut to the chase! Your Wanderer needs help. Whether you care to provide that help is, of course, another matter altogether.”

“Shut up,” Isabeau snarls. “You think we don’t care?”

“Well. They did do their level best to burn all their bridges, this time around.”

Mirabelle draws herself up to her full, extremely un-intimidating height. “And you think we’d turn our backs on a friend for something like that? They’re not going anywhere until I get an apology, thank you very much!!! Now are you going to help us or aren’t you?”

For just a second, the impossible stranger’s radiant face goes slack. Then their eyes crease, and their mouth curves up.

“Aw,” they say fondly. “Heroes. You’re all sooooo~ stupid. And!!” they add hastily, when the whole party opens their mouths to argue. “It’s just such a pleasure to, haha, uh, ‘meet’ you!! You can call me Loop, if you like. I’m a sort of friend of Siffrin’s. And of course, I’m here to help.”

###

The House is full of Siffrin’s ghosts. Remnants. Echoes of every time he’s ever died bloodily.

Odile flips a hidden switch and for just a second, Siffrin is standing in the center of the hall, smiling, holding out a thumbs up. And then with a terrible rumble of stone on stone, he’s crushed by a boulder the size of a city block. The clatter of falling rock is deafening, but not quite loud enough to drown out the wet crr–rrnch of splintering bone.

Isabeau looks down. There’s one small gloved hand poking out from under the stone. The index and middle fingers twitch and flick, like an ant that still hasn’t realized that it’s already cut in half.

—And then it’s gone. There's no blood on the floor. The boulder is only a boulder.

Deeper in, the halls throng with huge, oblong beads of floating water. The oilslick iridescence playing over the surface might be pretty, if it wasn’t so unsettling.

“I’d steer clear of that stuff, if I were you,” Loop’s voice suggests. “It could— Oh, never mind, my Stardust will show you.”

Sure enough, another phantom Siffrin is sauntering up to the Tear. They look over their shoulder and wink—(it’s a wink, not a blink; Isabeau can always tell)—before thrusting their arm inside. Their skin stiffens. Their stance hardens. The light drains from their eye—

—and they’re gone.

“Sooo, yeah!” Loop chirps. “That’s why we don’t do that.”

Isabeau watches Sif fall in a hundred ways. Crushed, fileted, asphyxiated. Mutilated. Obliterated. Siffrin smiles and smiles and dies. He winks and laughs and dies.

It’s not real, Isa reminds himself—except that it is. Or… was? If Loop is telling the truth, then Siffrin did die here, run through by the scythelike arm of the biggest Sadness that Isa’s ever seen. And here, with their own dagger buried to the hilt in their chest. Black blood trickling between his teeth as he tries his best to smile.

“Aww,” Loop’s voice says sympathetically. Apparently they can interject anytime, even though everyone else has to use the secret hand-sign. “I guess this explains why the poor little guy was so secretive! They knew how you’d react, if you learned the truth. I guess they really were protecting you, after all! I’ll have to apologize when we find them. Assuming they’re still, you know. Alive.”

Isabeau’s blood boils.

“Teehee! Aw, don’t worry! Not all of their deaths were so yucky! Most of them were quick and painless!”

“What does ‘most’ mean.”

“Ohhh, I don’t know… 60 or 70?”

“Percent?”

“Nope!”

…Right.

“But it couldn’t have been more than 30 that really hurt. Oh, unless you count… Hm. Do you know what? To be safe, I think we’d better make it 40.”

Isabeau’s head feels light. “Wh. What are the extra ten.”

“Oh! Well! That’s when they used the broken glass!”

“To do what.”

“Isabeau,” Odile says warningly.

“Well, to stab themself, of course! I remembered the times they used the knife, and when they got too impatient to finish off the King, but I forgot about the glass! As our mutual friend might say, I—teehee—I guess I ‘saw straight through it.’ You know, because it’s see-through? Oooh, we had such~ a big fight after that,” they add, dreamily. “I wouldn’t talk to them for a whole loop!”

Isabeau feels sick. He feels sick. He wants to throw up, but he’s pretty sure it’s not going to make him feel better.

“Aww!” Loop simpers. “Don’t worry, big guy!! They love you!!! All of you! Siffrin’s only trying to protect you! They’re just really, really, really-really bad at it.”

Isa doesn’t answer. He’s barely listening. He can’t seem to finish a thought, much less a sentence. They— Sif, they—

A small hand grabs hold of his and squeezes, hard. Mirabelle. Who else? She was always so much braver than the rest of them.

“We’ll talk to them soon,” she says firmly. “About—everything. And they’ll explain everything. And then—then we can decide how to feel. But there’s no use doing it now. We haven’t even saved them yet.”

“Belle’s right!!!” Bonnie shouts. “Stupid Loop is just messing with you, the same as Frin does! Except meaner! But maybe not meaner than yesterday because yesterday he was ackshly pretty mean!! But it’s okay, ‘cause people fight all the time, and then they make up and it’s fine! So stop being sad, stupid! You don’t even know what you’re spose to be sad about yet!!”

In spite of everything, a little giggle slips out of him. “Yeah. Y-Yeah! Sorry I, um… yeah.”

“Don’t be sorry!” Bonnie huffs. “Just don’t be stupid!!”

“Thanks, Bonbon. I’ll do my best.” He ruffles their hair fondly. “Good thing you’re so smart, huh?”

“I know!!!”

Isabeau darts a glance at Odile, who’s been worryingly quiet since they entered the House. “Um. Madame…?”

“Don’t distract me,” she snaps. “I’m trying to think.”

So that’s alright, then. All they have to do is save Sif, and everything will be okay.

###

When the party finally catches up, Siffrin is barely recognizable. It’s not just that he’s frozen in time: skin withered hard as tanned leather; his single eye matte-black as a chunk of rough-cut onyx. They’re also… shrunken. Diminished. Barely a shadow of their former self. They look half their normal size, which was already pretty crabbing small.

Isabeau can feel the fish heads curdle in his stomach. What could Sif have seen, to make them look like that? How long have they been trying and dying and fighting and dying alone, without anyone even seeing? Without anyone slowing down for long enough to notice?

…It doesn’t matter. This will be the last time. He’s going to make sure of it.

###

They beat the King, of course. There was never any other choice. (And also, Sif seems to have done an unsettlingly thorough job of kicking the snot out of him all by themself. By the time the rest of the party rolled up, they were really only picking up the pieces.)

The worst part is how confused Sif looks, when Mira wakes them up. How utterly, unconditionally floored. Like they were fully certain that their friends were just going to leave them to die. Sif opens his eye and stares at the others like he’s not sure they’re even real. Like he thinks they shouldn't have come at all.

Sif was always so excruciatingly expressive. It’s something Isa loves about them, normally. Now it means that he can see every emotion splashed stark across their face. Denial, disbelief. Roiling, sickening self-disgust.

They’re also in crabbing shambles. Sweat-slicked and feverish and knock-kneed as a colt. They take one step before their legs crumple like wet cardboard. Normally Isabeau is very careful about respecting Sif’s space, but he can’t just let them split their skull open on the cobblestone. He can’t stand the thought of them having to go through it all again.

...Sif really must be exhausted. When Isa slips an arm around their back and hoists them back onto their feet, they don’t even have the strength to pull away. They just sag against him, boneless.

Isabeau lets out his breath. They did it, didn’t they? They actually did it. The King is frozen in time, hoist on his own stupid crabbing petard. Sif is—alive, if not well. No one else has so much as a scratch on them. Which means that everything is fine, right? Everything is going to be okay. It’s finally, actually over.

###

But of course it isn't over.

you may have noticed that i’m not spending much time on any of the story beats that we got to see in-game! that’s bc i think this game is a fucking astounding feat of storytelling, and i just really don't have anything to add (at least when it comes to siffrin's arc). no sources of lingering dissatisfaction! no incongruence stuck in my craw! we already lived that shit in the first person!!! so i'll likely be skipping to postgame in ch 3. hopefully that makes sense & doesn't feel too anticlimactic! if u wanna know when I next update, feel free to subscribe to the series on ao3! https://archiveofourown.org/works/52448152/chapters/

[chaotomatic]

Rewatching for the future, heres some details ive noticed!

SPOILERS!!!!!

——

-the collectors pallace has paintings in the hallways that are eerily similar to memory paintings when you enter someones mind. Several collectors are shown in the backround paintings in different deptictions of collector stuff, along with a teeny collector that i can only assume to be our main one

-when searching for the teleport glyph, all the memories pulled out are ones that were negative or traumatizing for her, implying that those moments have stuck with her the strongest and are at the front of her mind. Almost half of them are decisions she made that she regretted making later due to them getting others hurt. (Stealing amitys training wand and showing phillip the light glyph are there as examples)

- another look at the paintings in the collectors room, three of them contain depictions of the boiling isles titan

- when kikimora and bitch face throw luz camilla amity and matt in the detention pit, kikimora points a gun at them with her robot. Luz, whos on the ground, immediately scrambles up and stretches her arms out to protect her mom and the others. I love her so much

-in disguise, kiki dressed up her robot in abomination track clothes. Any purple spillage from said abomination robot would be tossed aside because shes an abomination student, of course shes got goo on her, no suspicion here!

-boschas horns are crab legs or claws. Like her palismen!

-during the breif scuffle with boscha, its almost immediately hinted that Matt illusioned both of them to switch places. “Matt” turns around, uses abomination magic to yeet bochas attack back at her, while “amity” looks scared off to the side.

-eda went from gagging to the idea of being a mom to calling king “kiddo” and giving him a little kiss. Character arch im crying shes full on mom mode i love her

-also camila admits she messed up when she moved the family to gravesfieled for that hospital, implying she blames herself, at least partially, for mannys death. Fuck bro

- willow sobbing because she misses her dads (and gus as well, hammering in that he misses his dad) just slaps me across the face each time. Theyre like- freshman in highschool. Theyre BABIES.

-willow is blushing slightly after hunter saves her and gus from the cave in, teehee

-SHES BLUSHING MORE FOR LIKE A SINGLE FRAME THE SECOND TIME HE SAVES HER. “I MISSED A LOT!”

If anyone else has little details theyd like to say please share!!!!!!!

Edit: i also wanna add, that scene where luz is in that inbetween world between portals, she straight up sees a titan and it waves at her lmao

Little guy

[sagaduwyrm]

As the Sea is Hungry

When Makino was a child, her grandmother told her stories of sea kings. "They can look different," she said, "with crab legs or snake scales or whale flukes, but they are always sea kings, the same way a land king is a monarch whether he wears the clothes of a prince or a pauper. They can trick you sometimes too, because the worst of them all are the ones that walk on two legs like us." Her grandmother would have wanted Luffy drowned, returned to the ocean from whence he came. But he was her child, and somehow that mattered more than anything else.

There was a Sea King in Makino's bar. +++

When Makino was a child, her grandmother told her stories of sea kings. "They can look different," she said, "with crab legs or snake scales or whale flukes, but they are always sea kings, the same way a land king is a monarch whether he wears the clothes of a prince or a pauper. They can trick you sometimes too, because the worst of them all are the ones that walk on two legs like us." 

"They look like a person, but they are fierce as the ocean and strong as a tiger. They have big, staring eyes, fit for the deepest waters, and sharp teeth made for rending." She stooped over in her seat, bracing herself on the edges of her chair, and met Makino's gaze. "They are human, but they are death," she murmured. "And you can't ever let them convince you they're anything else." +++

The day Garp the First appeared at her door with a baby, small and squalling, was the first day in years that Makino remembered her grandmother's words. She'd long let her memories of the spiteful old woman sink deep in her mind, foundational to the clever, determined way she met the world but of no consequence to her day-to-day. Now, meeting the curious eyes of little Monkey D Luffy, those memories resurfaced.

"Big, staring eyes" were the first thing her grandmother mentioned when she told the stories of the Sea Kings who walked on land. The appetite for blood and the savagery like a cuckoo in the nest came later, but those eyes that tore into the soul were first.

It was strange, Makino thought, babe laid out on the couch as she prepared the formula Garp gave her. Luffy's eyes stared, seeing more than she thought they should, but it was a gentle thing. The flailing of a curious child trying to understand the world around them, not the evil of an un-sated appetite. She supposed he would grow into his claws though.

"You know what you have brought me." The words left her lips unbidden as she met Garp's eyes where he stood at the door.

He nodded slowly. "Yes," he said, a weight to the words those who knew him might have been surprised by.

Monkey D Garp was a child of the Sea, Makino remembered, a sailor to his bones, his soul already condemned to those watery depths. He would know as well as the granddaughter of a wise woman what came from the ocean's children.

"He's my grandson," Garp said, and Makino sighed as she scooped up the child to feed him. There was something about a child being in your care that made all else inconsequential.

"I'll do what I can."

"That's all I ask."

Makino kept her eyes on Luffy's as the Marine Hero left. Such a small child for the fangs he will grow into. +++

When she was young, not the child her grandmother knew but not the young woman that took Luffy into her arms either, a noble of Goa brought a Sea King fry back from the Grand Line.

The man hoped to tame the thing, right up until it devoured him whole. Nowadays, people didn't talk about where the Lord of the Coast came from, only how to avoid it. +++

The day Luffy brought a pirate home, Makino dropped the bottle she was carrying. The man moved fast, catching the glass almost before it left her fingers, a joke already on his tongue.

"I hear this is the best place to get a drink around here?"

There was a Sea King in her bar. An addition to the usual hungry maw that hid behind her skirts.

Makino smiled and welcomed the man. Her grandmother raised her to be wary, but her mother taught her to be polite, and Luffy liked the man. Wild child though he was, he had a good eye for people.

It was easier to be welcoming as the pirate's crew filtered in. They were warm and energetic, less trouble than the bandits that sometimes filtered down the mountain. It made it easy to forget the flashes of red like blood-on-the-ocean out of the corner of her eye as Luffy and Shanks made friendly.

It was almost adorable to watch, the way they circled around each other. They'd clearly already decided they liked each other, but Luffy wasn't used to adults he couldn't run rampant over, and Makino didn't think Shanks quite knew what to do with a kid. They seemed to enjoy the process of experimentation regardless, and Makino started to relax as she glimpsed the red-haired captain toss Luffy into the air, both of them exploding with laughter.

"Don't mind him." The first mate smelled like smoke and gunpowder, and he was the only member of the crew that hadn't bothered to shed his weapon or the air of menace he carried. If she didn't know better, she would've missed the sharp teeth and red-sun-rising warning the captain carried for the more obvious threat of his vice. "The Captain's just a big kid himself. He's thrilled to finally have someone on his level to talk to."

Makino felt her mouth twist into a laugh at his words. Beckman was very good at making his captain look unthreatening. She wondered if Luffy would have someone like that someday.

"I don't mind," she told him. "It's good for Luffy to have people other than his grandfather and I that meet his eyes."

Beckman's eyes flicked over to the pair and she saw that he understood. His mouth twisted wryly, and his hackles lowered the same way hers had earlier. "Good for both of them probably," he agreed. +++

Months later Makino was grateful for her insistence on remembering the fangs the captain of the Red-haired Pirates hid behind bright laughter and a truly staggering alcohol tolerance. His fury, cold like dark waters at night, might have thrown her off otherwise. But it was on behalf of the child she raised, and unlike the other townsfolk, she had never mistaken his good cheer for anything other than the sated joy of an unhungry belly, rather than the domesticated friendliness he tried to pass it off as. 

Blood spilled into the tides of the sea, the waters as hungry as the sea-king-children that stood on the shore.

For all her wary caution, Making wouldn't have it any other way.

[salty-accords]

WIP Novel Fragments #2

Here's some more drafting I've done for Part 1 of my novel. TW: references to alcohol, mild suspense.

If you're interested in supporting me, please check out my Linktree (in bio) for my Ko-Fi or my Patreon, where you can become a Member for $1/month on either platform and receive early access to video content and social media shout-outs, donate, or hire me to edit, format, or give feedback on prose up to 5,000 words!

Date: 7/5/24, 1:00PM EST

She froze, staring down the tall, hooded figure in the middle of the road. Her heart began to race, a knot clenching somewhere in her guts like she had a bad stomach bug. The stranger seemed to be watching her, but she couldn’t quite tell with the shadows cast over their face. Their clothes were all black and flowy-looking, even saturated with rain water. Her heart pounded behind her ribs and she swallowed harshly.

Alice broke from the possible staring contest and trudged out from under the roof, turning sharply to trot across the monoculture lawns of her neighbors. She didn’t want to answer anyone’s questions or be bothered by some creep. She just wanted out of the rain.

#

“No work,” the woman stated plainly, her head cocking to the side at what must’ve been a painful angle. Alice tried not to cringe at the sight. “No work, only play–you’re not going to run away, so he’ll just take you–he’ll take you away!”

Turning on her heel, Alice decides it’s high time she book it out of whatever-the-fuck cult bullshit that woman was drunk on. She was obviously insane–probably brainwashed by some obscure cult-sect out of town, and she’d probably wandered in and gotten lost. Yeah.

There was no reason for her to get all up in arms about one nutty old lady.

“The Black King will have his queen again! The Queen of Blood will RISE and she will take us all! She’ll take us ALL down with her! All of us!”

#

Dear Diary, it’s June 1st. I just came home from a friend’s house, and they told me this amazing story. They said they fell in love with another friend of theirs. Someone I wouldn’t know, of course. She lives out of state, and it’s probably best that she does—Daddy would never let me be friends with a girl like her, from the sounds of it. He’s very protective. He loves me a lot. Any good father would protect his little girl from someone like that. But I can’t help but wonder what her life must be like! I’m a curious person. Mama’s always having to remind me about that old cat—curiosity done killed it, and don’t I know. It’s no good to go spending all my time wondering about other people when I’ve got plenty on my plate already—even if they are interesting and strange and unique. The story my friend told me went about like this: They were at a sleepover with this girl, and she’s beautiful. She’s got these gorgeous dark eyes, so rich they’re almost black, and amazing skin—smooth and dark like sand after a storm. My friend says that there are shells hidden in her skin, scars that they want to collect and lift to their ear, listening to her stories and the pulse underneath. She keeps herself hidden inside. The girl isn’t the beach, she’s the life within it. Like a crab; or like a pirate. She uses her body in much more clever ways than my friend—according to my friend. This girl doesn’t hunt, doesn’t fish, doesn’t run laps with dogs, like my friend does, but she wanders. Her legs carry her everywhere and her arms take people with her—she never adventures alone, not really. Her phone is full of photographs and videos, and her mouth is full of stories for her friends. Her fingers leave paint everywhere she goes, drying on old brick walls and seeping between bark until the next rain can wash it away. She takes enough water for two, always, and an extra meal, just in case. Her tough exterior could fool anyone, and that’s what she likes. She likes being a statement—she’s her own story, one about proving people wrong.

[the-firebird69]

Salsa bae ❤️

So my husband is saying some things are kind of rude to her it's rude to me you know I'm listening and I'm saying something stupid not that stupid but he's kind of taunting her cuz they always sit there and have them look at them and usually it's not much to look at now there's a little bit too much to look at not too much but she's out of proportion a little and he said somehow it's some kind of message to me from Hera and I started laughing I just know what it means and I said that and she's like how could it be him so he shows up and he's dancing with a big butt and tell her legs and she's laughing cuz it happens to her guys she wants to know what it is and he says it's from eating daddy long legs gross and she said that's disgusting Alaskan king crab and said no and probably not I don't know what it is that gives you a fat ass and long legs. And then she started laughing and she said I'd like to turn this around somehow and ask you out for a date and he says I don't have any money I'm going to turn around and say you should pay for the date she said no instead of never happens and then she said this we're just going to sit here until he has money and we're going to do nothing let's fart this is not something's for you to do underneath Trump's idiotic s*** pile of giants there's some creme de La creme there if you think about it for more than 10 seconds you might put together what I did so she's studying it and thinking about it and she thought about the clan and Mars and she did put it together and she told people and she's not Joan of Arc but she is a famous person from the past and she knew about it and she got a meeting going today and in the meeting they said we could all be screwed by this clan who you feel sorry for mad at hate say we got rid of and it's ridiculous and that's what they said

:... Here's in the nutshell though he's going to get taller legs and a bigger butt and and legs his calves are a little bit bigger but he's growing up shortly and I want to save the legs start to grow a little and it's true and slowly and it might be a little painful and is experiencing that and then it's going to shoot up he says and that's Thor and Freya she says it too and his butt and legs will look a little like this but will match his upper body we should be a little bit bigger he'll have like 17 in arms which will look pretty good size second clone when juiced mildly and they look pretty impressive but more muscular than they are and I'm saying when will that be and it's got to do with the song and her look and all that stuff and he didn't figure any of it out listen to our stuff on the radio and he never does his TV not the radio it's always just spewing at him and that's going to change and he's got a top and he's white the chest is bigger but it's like a halter top so that's what's going to happen to him but the same as if female and that's going on now so that kind of dates a little and she looks like all the clans presents and our woman usually have legs like that and your head would be a little bigger but yeah sometimes we look a little odd with big legs and they get it from spice and they don't know what it is and my husband says I hope it's not and I say yeah there's a lot of it around.. let's hope they're not eating okay that's gross poop. These dumb s****. And they refine it but really. Truthfully though it has meaning it is now and when I checked and they're not the ones doing it I think

Hera

We are watching and listening to them they're saying rude things but we did figure out something they're trying to figure out what's going on but really they want him to grow and to blame him for their own Giants I wish they say they have a lot more where that came from and they're going to run around like idiots and raising Giants and saying it's his people when he grows like an inch a month what do you people look like huge assholes you're so God damn dumb

Thor Freya

There's a huge issue here our son has flatulence and a lot of it and he can't wipe because the septic is acting up and we want people to do their job here and fix the sewer and not raise his rent they're saying they can't so we're going on the attack we're very sick of you people if it's you as a problem you're going to die and stand dies and we think it's him cuz he is the problem he gets killed by Lily and Lily fights the Scarlet witch and the Scarlet witch dies and that's how it goes eventually Lily dies and she dies with her husband and they are a gross people. And they turn into worms and shrink and they're gone and we don't want them back this sick there's more happening but this is him growing no we do know what happens he gets a little bigger but they're saying it's happening now and they don't know if it's happening now and we do we think it's a little early he's healing a little but it's been doing that the whole time. But we can see I'm sitting there struggling with stuff it's a pain you don't get my break so we're not giving you a break right now we're getting ready to come in here and thank you for your asinine performance today it wasn't as bad as usual because we were stopping tons of you and a whole bunch of you came in later on because nothing happened and a whole bunch you get hit but not enough and we're planning to do that I do know what the symbology is I want him to take a look

Zig Zag

Olympus

[mayhemproduces]

It was dream match time, two of the best technical wrestlers in the world. The Stardust Champion vs ZSJ, Pandemonium had been through a war last week with Brody King but she was going to fight like hell to actually wrestle Sabre. Zack offering his hand to Pandemonium and she taking it to shake it before backing away quickly. Zack coming back to Pandemonium quickly trying to take her space but Pandemonium rolls away from him, a smirk on her face as she shook her head. She would step into the space Sabre wanted when she was ready. “I’m the Champ, this is my ring.” She warned him, it was a playful bantered with Sabre giving her a bow.

The two finally coming together locking up, ZSJ quickly coming behind her to lock his arms around her curved waist. Pandemonium quickly shifting the center of gravity, powerful legs bending helping take Sabre’s control from him. Pandemonium nearly going horizontal crab walking through and forcing Zack to his knees. Pandemonium flattening herself and making Zack break his hold on her. Quickly well she turned from her back to her knees she captured Sabre’s arm. But Zack stands quickly rolling through forcing her to loosen and release her grip.

The two them separate again before locking fingers but Sabre’s legs slide through both hands. Smirking at Pandemonium, clearly playing with her a little bit. Pandemonium walking away from him before yelling across the ring “you think you’re cute.” Before again locking up Pandemonium capturing his arm and bringing it behind his back, but ZSJ can slide through her grip ending up on his knees in front of her and Pandemonium walked away. Neither of them trying to get caught up in the other’s holds, feeling each other out.

Coming together again, fingers interlaced with one another Pandemonium quickly stomped on the foot of ZSJ, forcing him to reel back before she caught him in a head. A bit of a dirty move? Sure, maybe, but Pandemonium had to stop being so squeaky clean. Controlling the head, she’d wretch down on brit before Zack sent her into the ropes, her hold released but she comes flying back taking Sabre down with a shoulder tackle. Pandemonium coming off the ropes again Zack’s body turning and she spins in mid air jumping over him. Turning on heels going for another higher impact move but Zack moves through and Pandemonium again has to hit the ropes trying to leap frog over him, in mid air ZSJ grabs her leg, bringing her down. Instantly Sabre is on her hooking his feet under her arms rolling her over and bridging for a pin.

1…

Pandemonium kicks out, rolling away from Zack, holding on her leg, and almost appearing like she’s dizzy. Zack might be one of those rare people who have Pandemonium bested in speed. Normally she is flying around the ring and twisting her opponents up into pretzels but not today. Sabre attempting to take control of her head. Taking Pandemonium off her feet and onto the mat. Again the strength of Pandemonium’s legs save her as she’s able to bridge up and turn her body before taking control of Sabre’s head. Rolling him through and slamming him down onto his back. Pandemonium taking a harder hitting position in this match then one would expect to see.

Zack’s legs coming through and bring them over the neck of Pandemonium getting him off her. Pandemonium has used this move time and time again wrapping her legs around her opponent’s head, squeezing and twisting. But it’s Zack who gives her a taste of her own medicine actually able to push himself up off the mat using his arms and forcing Pandemonium up too forcing her to scream. Repeating his process time and time again.

Pandemonium again utilizing the power in her legs is able to nip up to a standing position, forcing Zack to let her go. Or she thinks, Zack still holding her hand is able to capture again with his legs and bring her back down into the position where she was. It’s cute when she does, but she’s not finding this entire turn of events as amusing as ZSJ is. It’s honestly looking like her Stardust Title might be in trouble.

Pandemonium rolling so she’s on her knees and forcing Zack to sit on his ass, again she rolls back to her back making Zack spin with her as her head slips through with Sabre still on his back. Pandemonium choosing not to tie herself back up with Zack. She’d been in the ring with the likes of Yuta, Garcia and Shelley and she might have known a counter to a counter to a counter. But Zack knew all of that and more. She wouldn’t allow herself to get frustrated because that’s when Zack could really capitalize.

The two of them circling one another again, ZSJ bringing Pandemonium into a double arm hook but it’s Pandemonium who twists and reverses now in control of Zack’s arms, she twists bringing him to his knees. Driving her knee into his back, shoulders twisted it almost looks like they’re going to come out of their sockets. Sabre’s longer legs able to kick through and break the hold before returning the favor and doing the same move to Pandemonium, but again Pandemonium muscles through and brings him back. Pandemonium now walking him around the ring, ZSJ can’t figure out how to escape from her grip. Pandemonium cutting him off at every point.

Fingers interlocking in both hands he wretched down and using a longer wingspan he quickly brought Pandemonium down to one knee. But as if he didn’t learn anything thus far when he got cocky putting both of their hands on top of her head she would power up and overtake him stepping over and to the side of him and one leg between his she crossed either arm of Yuta’s over his chest and leaning back into him. Back to the mat he kneeled, and her knee was now placed against his spine. He couldn’t break the hold, the only respite got was when she finally let their fingers go, hands grasping either of his wrists as she kept pulling on either arm, she was going to separate a shoulder if he didn’t figure something out. Legs coming out and bringing him to another standing position he tried to reserve the hold, but it didn’t work she was quick enough to bring him back into original position.

Again, Zack repeated the process but this time, he was able to snap her over his head, sending her to the mat with a hard thud. Snapping back Pandemonium would return the favor, these two locked together Sabre brought her back to the mat one more time, Pandemonium trying to pop right back Zack let go sending her back into the ropes.

 In hot pursue he brought her into the ropes arm out for an arm drive, but she blocked the move a kick to the midsection for his troubles. Forcing him to double over, she took hold of his arm again, leg wrapping around his neck as ZSJ overpowered her and she wrapped herself around him, with her legs again his neck and head between her thighs. This should have been her normal hurricanrana but with his arm caught he was taken by surprised with her focusing on his shoulder, only turning it into a modified hurricanrana when she wanted to bring him down to the mat, her hold of his arm still there.

Up kicking Pandemonium, attempting to bring her back into his grasp but Pandemonium sends a quick knee to Zack’s face allowing her to come away from him. Sabre moving his arms trying to get feeling back into his shoulders. Pandemonium on the other side of the ring, she won’t run into him, she’s making Zack come to her. “I’m not doing another rest hold.” She says with a wink.

“Test of strength love?” he asks, getting the fans behind him, but Pandemonium shakes her head no.  But the fans keep chanting and it happens. Pandemonium giving into the peer pressure and ending up getting her arm locked through by Zack and sent to the mat hard. Zack attempting to pin her.

1…

Pandemonium again kicking out. Both back to their feet they again went again for another lock up, Sabre coming out ahead with a wrist lock that Pandemonium was able to counter, taking his arm behind his back and this time she was smart enough to not let him get control of her head. Zack again going for the ropes, but he was in no mans land, and Pan wretched down trying to take his arm out at the shoulder. Hitting the mat, he tried anything to get her to let the hold go, but she was on him. Strength used he brought them both up at a standing position and he tried again to get a hold of her head but no dice. Sabre bent his leg grabbing his foot and guiding it to her hand fingers being scrapped against the sole of his wrestling boot and she was forced to let go.  He took her own wrist and elbow turning it behind her back, height advantage shown as he bent her at the waist, his upper body against hers and stretching the muscles from her ribcage.

Pan quickly locked her fingers together so he couldn’t bend her arm anymore as she took him for a walk around the ring, he wasn’t going to let go and she wasn’t going to let him bend her arm anymore. Speed picked up before it was Pandemonium who hit the mat, right by the ropes sending Wheeler out of the ring and letting her go in the process.  With Sabre outside of the ring Pandemonium was setting up for the trademark Somersault Plancha flatting Sabre. The last thing he wanted was to let Pandemonium fly, but he had screwed up there allowing her to fly. Sabre had very much controlled the temp of the match, but now Pandemonium was airborne, and she wasn’t going to allow Sabre to grown her. Grabbing Zack by the trunks she threw him back into the ring, following behind.

Pandemonium not giving him a chance to recover knowing that’s the worst thing she could do. Sending shots to ZBJ but back away quickly. She repeats this kind of dodge and weave behavior until flying too close to the song. Zack grabbing her leg and snapping her through. But dazed he can’t follow through it’s more to get her off him. As he retreats to the corner, but Pandemonium follows stiff knife edge chop hitting Zack’s chest. Pandemonium adapting, she knew she couldn’t sit there and be technical with Zack, that was his fight and he’d beat her all day. She pushed into the more strike like force she could bring, striking Zack over and over again until he fights back sending a forearm her way before she does the same again. Kicks now coming forward hard into his chest. Pandemonium using ropes and whatever she could to bring more force to those kicks.  With Zack sinking down Pandemonium runs forward face washing him into the corner. Pandemonium’s legs well he had tried avoiding them in submissions still could deliver powerful strikes.

Once he’s there on his hands and knees gasping for breath, she sends another kick another good measure. Locking her hands under Sabre’s neck she steps over his head her thigh resting against the back of his neck, throwing her other leg over his back she locks him in. Zack can try and muscle is way out of it, for as long as he has breath, but she pulls his neck down into her hands cutting off the blood supply. He rolls and Pandemonium can drop her leg deeper into his neck, Pandemonium’s Pervuian Necktie in no one has broken free of the submission yet in MPW can Zack Sabre Jr?

  His hand slaps against Pandemonium’s leg and the referee calls for the bell ---

DING DING DING.

HERE IS YOUR WINNER BY SUBMISSION --- YOUR STARDUST CHAMPION PANDEMONIUM!!

[padfootagain]

The Ocean

Here we go with a new request for my 5k event! Anon asked for a drabble for Caspian with the prompts :

2. "Don't worry, it's just a scratch… OUCH!"

26. "I'm the luckiest though. I have you."

This is a lot of fluff, just cute fluff… I hope you like it :)

Pairing : Caspian x reader

Word Count : 1898

Caspian's love for the sea was not a secret. You were aware of the nickname given to the king. The Seafarer. And that name made by the men under his command, and since adopted by all in the Kingdom, took roots in a true trait of his character. The ocean was just as much his lover as you were, in a way, to the point where you sometimes were a little jealous of the oceanic waves. He sometimes stood on the edge of a cliff, staring at the horizon where two hues of blue met and mingled, without moving a muscle for hours on end. You could read it in his expression every time he was on a boat, by the way his features lit up and his eyes glimmered while the wind batted his hair against his cheeks that he was home. That he was where he belonged, more so than on any throne, more so than in any divine hall of stone, more so even than riding with you through the forests of Narnia as leaves cracked and shivered under your horses' hooves. No, the place that felt like home to him was the ocean.

You couldn't fight his love for the moody waters, and couldn't temper his passion for the salty waves. You had given up on this attempt a long time ago, before you and Caspian even got married. It made him happy, after all. And even if the sea was a treacherous companion, there was little you could do against such a passionate love.

Caspian was well aware of your worry every time he left for the sea, but he always promised he would come back to you, and in his mind there was no doubt that he would. He had never broken a promise made to you - or anyone else, for that matter – and he intended on keeping his word once more.

He hoped that one day you would look at the sea with a friendly eye instead of one of rivalry, but it was difficult for you to share his excitement for the deep waters. It was difficult for you to see anything else in the waves than a force trying to take your husband away.

But you loved him too much, and whenever he was home, you walked down the length of the beach of white sand that ran along the cliffs of Cair Paravel. In the distance, the harbour protected the boats during the low tide, and the purple and golden sails of the Dawn Treader glimmered under the bright sunlight. You remained at a fair distance from the busy port though, seeking with your husband some private time to share, filled with tenderness and breathy giggles, with shy touches of fingertips and stolen glances. You had been married for several years, and yet, you still felt giddy whenever he was around, and his heart still skipped a beat whenever he laid eyes on you. You knew that you were lucky, both of you were well aware that this kind of love was rare, even more so for people of power like the two of you. There must have been someone looking after both of you with magical powers in their hands to guide the two of you on the same path. Caspian always said that Aslan himself must have made sure you found each other, and you had to agree.

You were walking down the beach over the edge of the water, your ankles kissed with the salty water slowly crawling up the sand, the tide rising once more to claim back what was its own kingdom, untamed and wild. Caspian was carrying your shoes and his, his other hand tenderly holding yours. It was warm on this summer afternoon, and Caspian had left his coat in Cair Paravel, choosing to leave for a walk with only a white shirt with large sleeves puffing around his muscles and letting the fabric open upon the upper part of his chest. The medallion you had offered him as a protective token the first time he went off to sea after your marriage was still hanging around his neck, the golden circle moving across his chest with each step he took. His long dark hair was messed with the wind, the light getting caught in his long eyelashes and the beard covering his cheeks. His eyes, so dark, showed a little bit of brown under the bright sunlight instead of their inky usual shade. He looked soft, domestic, so different from the kingly demeanour he had to wear in the castle. Instead, he was just your husband, and you couldn't refrain an enamoured smile to grace your lips at the sight.

The bottom of your dress was drenched with salty water and clung to your calves, but you didn't care. Caspian's brown trousers were wet too, patches of darker shades of fabric marking where the waves had climbed up his legs. You knew several dignitaries who would have been shocked by the King and Queen of Narnia behaving so mundanely, but none of you minded, as you simply enjoyed each other's company. When the two of you were alone, it was so easy to just be yourselves.

You reached a patch of golden rocks emerging from the water where seagulls rested after their long flights. Thanks to the low tide, the beach reached the rocks carved into sharp shapes by thousands of years being beaten by the waves. Caspian's eyes lit up at the sight.

"Would you mind a bit of adventure, my love?" he asked, a mischievous smile brightening his handsome features.

"What do you have in mind?" you asked back, yours eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"Follow me."

You could have tried to fight back and pull him back towards you instead of following him as he hurried towards the rocks, but there was no need to delay the obvious. You would end up yielding anyway.

You let him guide you to the rocks, and you climbed on top, Caspian helping you up and giggling every time he had to catch you as you lost your balance. You spent some time staring at the seaweeds that covered the rock, and the tiny pools carved in that hid tiny crabs that ran away when you came too close. You looked for seashells on the edge of the water, and laughed as Caspian came too close to the edge and was drenched by a particularly strong wave, his shirt now clinging to his body, the fabric turning from white to see-through. His hair dried quickly under the warm sun though, tangling in the wind.

He chased you around with seaweeds in his hands, trying to put them on your head, and you laughed so hard you could barely breathe.

It was a perfect afternoon, really, and for a moment, you weren't so angry and jealous of the sea. Caspian had a gift to make you forget about everything else in the world but your love for him. Until your husband, in a clumsy step, slipped onto some seaweed and fell head first across the rock.

You heard him letting out a loud grunt as he hit the ground, and you hurried back to him, crossing the few steps that separated the two of you, all traces of laughter now gone from your features.

"Darling! Are you okay?" you asked with worry oozing from your every words.

"Yes," he nodded, sitting up. "I'm fine, just…"

You kneeled by his side, noticing that he was holding his forehead.

"Let me see," you ordered, and Caspian didn't even think about arguing.

As you pulled his fingers away, a gush of blood ran down the side of his face. But you quickly saw that it was nothing serious. You cut a piece of your dress to press the fabric against his forehead, but Caspian rolled his eyes, trying to wipe the blood away with the back of his hand.

"Don't worry, it's just a scratch… OUCH!" he jumped as you forcefully pressed the clothe against his cut.

"Don't start arguing with me. You hit your head pretty hard."

"It is really nothing to worry about, my darling. Just a little cut. I have seen much worse."

"Don't remind me!" you scolded him.

He rolled his eyes with a cheeky smile.

"You are adorable when you get worried about me. I like it."

"If you want me to take care of you, dearest, I would advise you to watch your words!"

"It is nothing, love."

"We should go back to the castle, clean your cut properly," you ignored him.

"Not yet," he complained. "We still haven't seen the sunset!"

"Caspian, you're hurt…"

But he took your wrist in his hand, pulling your hand away from his forehead, before guiding it to his lips to drop a tender kiss to your pulse on the inside of your wrist. His wound had stopped bleeding already, and now that you could properly see the damage, you had to admit it was nothing serious, a little scratch that would be gone in a week or so.

"I am fine. It's nothing. Let's stay a little longer, please," he asked with begging eyes you knew you would be unable to refuse anything to. "You promised we would watch the sunset together tonight. So, let's stay. Please, stay."

He pulled you closer and closer until he could kiss your lips, making you forget everything about the world around you, goosebumps running up your arms and making your knees shake under you.

"Please, stay," he asked one more time, knowing he had won already, knowing that after such a kiss, he would have broken your will for anything else but your desire to stay in his arms like this.

You heaved a sigh, resting your forehead in the crook of his neck and running your fingers through his messy hair.

"You're lucky you have good arguments in your favour," you yielded, making both of you laugh.

He hummed in agreement, tightening his hold on you and pressing you to his chest as you sat down and got comfortable in his arms.

"I am the luckiest though. I have you," he added, looking down at you before dropping a chaste kiss into your hair, making you smile and close your eyes, relishing in his wooded scent and the steady beating of his heart under your palm.

Caspian's eyes moved back to the sea, resting once more onto the untameable waves, and the infinite possibilities that laid over the horizon. Lands to discover, and monsters hidden, and so many people waiting on the other side. So many mysteries to uncover.

Caspian was well aware people sometimes called him Seafarer. Sometimes, his own men claimed that the ocean was his true home, that he belonged there, on the sea. That instead of a castle, he belonged on a boat. Caspian never paid too much attention to these words, and he never bothered correcting all those that thought the sea was his real and true love, the place he felt truly himself, that the ocean was his home.

Because he knew where his home was. He held it in his arms now.

You were his home. And no matter where the sea would try to take him, he would always come back to you in the end.

[1plus1kiyoomi]

Chapter 22: How I Met Your Mother

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“Okay, listen up my children!” Kiyoomi announces in the middle of the living room, the kids all looking up to him. “Your mother won’t be around for 3 days-”

Kin starts crying because of his father’s words, taking Sakusa aback. His boy must love you so much since he’s the only who seems affected that you are away. The girls... don’t care.

“Don’t cry! Don’t cry! We are only 30 minutes in and you’re already crying,” Kiyoomi sighs, picking Kin up from the ground.

“You should not have mentioned mama,” Kia scolds him. Kia takes a seat on the couch which Mina and Mira follows. She is their leader, not Kiyoomi. If a hierarchy is made in your house it would turn out like this:

You

Kia

Mina

Mira

Kin

Kiyoomi

Yes. Sakusa Kiyoomi, the provider and the pillar of the house, is at the lowest ranking in your house, simply because he isn’t around all the time. He only goes home once or twice a month, leaving all the childcare and managing of the house to you. The wedding planning is only the side dish of what’s on your plate. He has so much respect for you that he’s willing to lower his pride and hurt his ego.

Kiyoomi is more than happy to take care of the kids for you. You get to rest and he gets to spend time with your children. It’s a win-win situation for the two of you.

“Mama!” Kin cries harder, and Sakusa bounces him on his arm, hoping it will stop him.

“If you stop crying we will go see the fish!” Kiyoomi cheers and Kin stops crying. “We will change now and then go see fish.”

“Really?” Kia questions her father, already old enough to be aware of Kiyoomi’s fear of crowds and germs. She knows that there is no way that their dad will bring the four of them in the aquarium. Especially since it’s a weekend, so it’ll be packed with people.

And Kia was right. Kiyoomi didn’t bring them to the aquarium, but to a small fish market. Kia is disappointed but not surprised. At least Kiyoomi tried, right? “Where’s the fish?” Kin asks, looking around as he sits in his stroller. The place only has a few people and small stalls, which Kiyoomi really likes.

They stop in front of a stall where fish are laid on trays of ice, shocking the twins. Kia just face palms, and Mina is just standing there but is also in disbelief. “What? It’s fish.” Kiyoomi defends himself, shrugging.

“It’s dead,” Mina remarks as she stares at the deceased sea creatures in front of her.

“A fish is a fish,” Kiyoomi argues. Kia scans through the surrounding and spots a small tank with king crabs in it. She points at it so they go to it. Kin and Mira are now out of their stroller and are almost glued to the glass tank. The owner of the shop comes out asks if they’re going to it at the store. Kiyoomi says yes, since the kids look so excited to be seeing crab for the first time.

What he didn’t take in account is that the kids will recognize that the crab they were staring at outside is now their food. Cue the loud crying from Kin and Mira. The number of times Kia has face palmed because of her father is uncountable. Mina is chill, playing with the claws of the cooked crab, making her younger siblings cry even more.

“Stop crying. Try it!” Mina puts a piece of meat in Mira’s mouth and she stops. Kin halts as well, confused why his twin stopped wailing. Kia feeds him the crab and he falls in love with it. Kiyoomi sighs in relief, very thankful that he has reliable daughters.

One task done.

Their lunch finally ends and they head to the toy store. Kiyoomi has already planned to buy kinetic sand for the twins since he can’t bring them to the beach. It’s a scary place. He might be the most cautious guy in the country, but he’s still like any clumsy father. The chances of him losing one kid at that place is high.

“Do you wanna walk?” Kiyoomi asks the twins, not wanting to carry a stroller around. The two nod so he takes out the safety harness and puts it on them. Mina and Kia are holding hands, walking obediently beside their father. The family of 5 enters the store and the kids become excited immediately.

“We can buy anything we want?” Kia asks in awe, which Kiyoomi just nods to. “Let’s go Mina!”

“Don’t go with strangers, okay?” Kiyoomi tells them as the two run off somewhere in the store. He picks up tubs of kinetic sand, clay, and slime. Then, he follows the twins around the store, picking up whatever they seemed interested in.

“You want that toy car?” Kiyoomi asks Mira, picking them up from the ground so they can see a clearer view of the toys. Kin points at a toy gun at another shelf. “I’m sorry, buddy, but you can’t use that yet, and maybe your mama will shoot me using that if she finds out I bought you one.”

As Kiyoomi and the twins are picking more stuffed animals, Kia and Mina come running towards him. “Papa! Papa! Can I buy a bike?” Kia pleads, tugging on Kiyoomi’s pants. He takes a deep breath in before agreeing to his eldest daughter.

“Where are your toys?” Kiyoomi asks them, seeing that the two girls are empty handed.

“I only want a bike and Mina wants a picture book,” Kia answers. Kiyoomi furrows his eyebrows in disappointment, but in his mind he’s actually really happy that the girls seem to be taking saving into consideration.

“Are you sure?” Kiyoomi raises an eyebrow at them.

“Can I buy a skateboard too...?” Kia shyly requests, doing a cute pose. Kiyoomi chuckles and agrees with her.

“How about you Minari?” Kiyoomi asks the younger girl.

“I want paint,” Kia nonchalantly says and Kiyoomi does a thumbs up to her. After that, they start to run to wherever they can get their wants. Kiyoomi walks after his kids, the twins already asleep in his arms, their heads on his shoulder. He spots Kia, scanning through the wide catalog of bikes, a small skateboard already tucked below her underarms.

“Can I get the blue one?” Kia tells the employee who is assisting her, pointing at the baby blue bike she wants.

“You don’t want the pink one?” The employee asks, presenting the pink bike. Kia looks at him in disgust.

“Do you think girls only like pink?” Kia remarks, taking the employee by surprise. Kiyoomi smiles under his mask, amused by his daughter’s words. He internally taps the his back because he’s pretty much the reason behind her attitude. He’s proud to say that he has raised his children not to believe in gender norms.

Kiyoomi feels someone tug on his pants, so he looks down and sees Mina holding a small cart filled with coloring materials, picture books and papers. “Is that all you want?” Mina nods and holds his hand.

After checking Kia’s bike they head to the cashier to pay. Kiyoomi then realizes that he has done the one thing you told him not to do. Spend money on the kids. But you won’t know right?

One task has been failed.

As they reach the house, all the kids immediately go to the bathroom to wash. Kiyoomi knows that they adapted this habit from him, and he feels happy that they’re understanding his personality even at a young age. Kia even sprays alcohol in her sibling’s hand every time they come back to the car. It’s the little things his little kids are doing for him that makes him love them even more.

The four of them falls asleep after the bath so Kiyoomi arranges the stuff they bought. As he is arranging Mina’s books, he notices the abundant number of books that included dogs. “Does she likes dogs?”

Kiyoomi is tired. He has never felt this tired after intense games or practices. Childcare is a whole new level of tired. Just when he thought he can rest, Mina walks out of her shared room with Kia. “Hi, baby. Did you sleep well?” Kiyoomi asks Mina which she doesn’t respond to. Instead, she comes close to him and hugs his leg. Surprisingly, Mina starts crying. “What’s wrong?”

“I missed you, papa,” Mina explains. Kiyoomi sits on the foamed floor of the living room, giving Mina a hug.

Mina has always been quiet. She always waits for her turn silently. She never begs for attention even if she wants it deeply. Mina only shows affection towards you and Kiyoomi when she’s alone with you, but with her siblings around, she gives way to them. Sometimes, Kiyoomi feels guilty because of this. Unlike Kia, Mina has never spent time with you and Kiyoomi on her own. Plus, she was then followed by the twins when she was still a baby. He’s afraid that Mina might start thinking that she is less important than her siblings.

“I missed you, too, Minari,” Kiyoomi says back. He puckers his lips so Mina gives him a short kiss. He hugs her once again, calming her down from her cry. She calms down so Kiyoomi takes this as a chance to trim her bangs. “Should we cut your hair?”

The two of them go to your shared bathroom as quiet as they can, not wanting to wake the other kids up. Kiyoomi sits Mina down on the sink, then takes a pair of scissors out of the drawers. “Don’t move, okay?” He starts to cut her bangs, thinking he’s doing a good job. But once he lets go of her hair, the room becomes silent.

Sakusa messed up. Big time.

Mina checks her reflection at the mirror and giggles. “Weird,” Mina says in between laughter, causing Kiyoomi to chuckle as well.

“Your mom will be so mad at me...” He cuts some more length off, but no matter how hard he tries, it’s just an uneven. He then decides to stop, not wanting his daughter to look like an unidentified animal.

“I like it, papa. Thank you.” She doesn’t like it, but she doesn’t want to break her father’s heart. Mina hugs Kiyoomi after taking a look at the mirror. Kiyoomi kisses her cheek, then laughs at the result.

“You’re still cute.”

Two tasks done.

As they return to the living room, they see Kia sitting on the living room couch, staring at the wall emptily. She sees Mina’s new hairstyle and grimaces. “You’re bad at cutting hair, papa,” Kia says, unfiltered. Unlike Mina who is considerate like you, Kia is as blunt as Kiyoomi. He doesn’t say anything back since she was right.

“Can you teach Mina the alphabet while I make dinner?” Kiyoomi requests and Kia nods in agreement. Mina goes to Kia while Kiyoomi goes to the kitchen to make dinner. He’s thankful that he has such a reliable daughter. He would probably not make it without Kia around.

Three tasks done. Somehow.

At first, Kia was teaching Mina the alphabet, but then she had to go to Kiyoomi’s bathroom to wash her hands, and that’s when she saw Kiyoomi’s ripped jeans that he wore a day before in the laundry basket. She hurriedly called Mina and ordered her to bring paper and glue.

“Is papa poor?” Mina gasps as Kia presents the ripped jeans to her. They sadly look at the piece of clothing and feel bad for buying so much at the toy store while their father was wearing clothes with holes in it.

The older girl flattens the pair of jeans on the floor and starts to glue the colored paper over the torn parts. Mina mimics Kia and does the same thing to the other leg of the pants. Kiyoomi, still in the kitchen, wonders why he suddenly can’t hear his children. It’s never good when they’re silent.

“Kia! Mina! Where are you?” Kiyoomi shouts and he hears small footsteps coming from his room. He checks over the counter and sees his pants are now covered in decorative paper. He almost drops the knife he is holding from the sudden transformation of his pants.

“We covered the holes in your pants papa! You might get cold!” Kia reasons as she shows off their little project. How can he get mad at them when they are just worried about him?

“Thank you, Kia, Mina,” he laughs and snaps a picture of them on his phone. Things that his kids do that don’t make sense but is damn adorable.

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

“Just go to bed. I beg you,” Kiyoomi pleads to his children who are still jumping on the bed. “It’s already almost 12AM. Please sleep.”

Kiyoomi is damn tired. How do you handle the four of them on your own? He suddenly feels bad for leaving you alone with them. And he hasn’t heard a complain from you even once. His love for you has become deeper just from taking care of the kids in one day.

“Bedtime story!” Kia cheers, putting herself inside the blanket, which her siblings follow. Kiyoomi sighs in relief. Finally.

“What kind of story do you want?” Kiyoomi tucks the blankets properly on their bodies, making sure that the four of them are comfortable in his bed.

“How did you meet mama?” Kia asks, causing Kiyoomi to smile.

“How I met your mother, huh?” Kiyoomi hums, thinking about how you first met. His smile grows, remembering every detail of how you met.

The first time Sakusa had met you was in Itachiyama. You were outside the volleyball gym, and he was on his way to practice. For some odd reason, you were smelling the roses by the wall. He thought you were the weirdest person he had encountered and judged you right then and there. After that, he would notice how you came to the same spot to smell the roses every single day. He didn’t even understand what smelled so good about them. He may or may have not tried smelling them after practice just to check why you kept smelling them.

It went on for weeks, but Sakusa never thought of talking to you. He just didn’t see see a reason why he should. Until one day, it rained so heavily that he became so worried for unknown reasons. On his way to practice, he stopped by the usual spot where you would smell the flowers and he didn’t see you there. Of course you wouldn’t be there, it was raining so hard. He didn’t care about you.

He was sure he didn’t care until he found himself carrying a bouquet of roses one morning to give it to you. He couldn’t believe it himself. But he couldn’t contain his feelings anymore.

You were a virus that slowly corrupted his mind that all he could think of is you. Maybe it be in class, during practice, on his way home, before he sleeps, after he wakes and sometimes he even dreams about you. Your virus then slowly travelled to his heart. He couldn’t explain it but every time he saw you, his heart would pound so fast he felt like he would suffer from cardiac arrest.

But it was also you who soothed him. When he was feeling down, he thought of your smile after you smelled the roses and he’s back up again. The calm he felt when he passed by you in hallways was enough to encourage him to do great in practice and in games. He didn’t even know your name but he already has a mission of taking your last name and replacing it with his.

You were his illness and his cure.

His cousin, Komori, wasn’t surprised to see him standing by the school gates with flowers in his hands. As the libero saw the roses, he immediately knew Sakusa was waiting for you.

Sakusa was never quiet about his feelings judgement towards you. Everyday the spiker would complain to the libero about how weird you were. Each day, Sakusa had something new to complain about. You cut your hair? He would say it Komori. You painted your nails a new color? Komori would hear about it. You were wearing a different bag? Komori definitely knew about it from Sakusa.

Komori had concluded that Sakusa had developed a liking towards you but the latter hadn’t notice yet. So when it rained hard the day before and Sakusa’s plays were bad, Komori knew Sakusa would do something about it. Sakusa was an honest man, even to himself, especially to himself.

You were on your way to school, when you saw Sakusa standing by the gates. Of course you knew him. He was famous in your school despite his too blunt personality and germaphobic tendencies. You had a little crush on him, but you also were aware he’d never like you back. You’d go outside their gym everyday to smell on the flowers and see him. He was a happy a crush. So, seeing him with flowers outside your school broke your heart.

‘So he had a lover, huh?’

You walked past him, head lowered in defeat. You heard murmurs and whispers as you continued to walk but you ignore them, head full of sad thoughts. Suddenly, you felt a hand on your shoulder so you turned your head and saw Sakusa standing before you, handing you the bundle of flowers. Everyone else was staring at you and Komori was hiding somewhere, taking a picture of the commotion.

“I think you got the wrong person,” you chuckled awkwardly, not knowing what to do since other students were looking at the two of you. And Sakusa Kiyoomi, the ace of the volleyball team, your happy crush, the man of your dreams, was handing you a bouquet of roses.

“You’re the girl who smells the roses outside our gym every afternoon, right?” Sakusa said as he pulled his mask down.

You literally short circuited. He was much more taller and more gorgeous up close. He smelled good, too. But what surprised you the most was that he lowered his mask to talk to you. Maybe you saved the world once in your past life to be able to experience this.

You nodded unsurely, glancing around you in nervousness, not able to look him in the eye. “Forecast said it’ll rain later in the afternoon so you won’t be able to smell the flowers outside the gym. So take this.” Sakusa explained to you.

You couldn’t believe it. The boy who you had a secret crush on since the first day of school had noticed you. You didn’t expect anything at all. Considering how he was with people, you thought you didn’t have a chance so you never made a move aside from stealing glances and watching from a far. To say that your heart was beating fast and that you felt butterflies in your stomach was an understatement. One more word from him and you would probably burst.

“Is that so?” A smile slowly grew on your lips, finally making eye contact with him. You were trying so hard to play it cool, but your reddening cheeks were giving you off. “Thank you. I’m (Y/N) by the way.”

“You can call me Kiyoomi.”

“And from that day on, I would bring your mother a rose everyday,” Sakusa tells Kia, fondly looking his children, the products of your love.

“So you liked mama ever since you met her?” Kia asks, seeing her father smile foolishly. A small giggle leaves Kiyoomi’s mouth and Kia teases him. “Papa is a simp.”

“Where did you learn that?” Kiyoomi gasps.

“Momo,” Kia answers and Kiyoomi takes a mental note to smack his cousin when he sees him again. “Papa, do you love mama?”

“We wouldn’t have the four of you if I don’t,” Kiyoomi answers with a chuckle. He checks his other kids and they have already fallen asleep. “Now go to sleep.”

“Good night, papa,” Kia greets him before closing her eyes. “I love you and mama so much. I am happy you are our parents.”

“We love you more.” He kisses their forehead one by one, before settling on the edge of the bed. He takes his phone out and messages you, hoping you were still awake.

All tasks complete.

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Facts:

Kia is already 5 years old at this, while Mina is 2 and the twins are 1.

Mina thinks dogs are cute because Komori looks like one and he is her favorite uncle.

Mira is the quiet twin while Kin is the more vocal one.

Kin likes fish because the last time Hinata came over, he showed him a picture of his gold fish. Hinata is Kin’s favorite.

Bokuto is Kia’s new favorite uncle/boyfriend because Atsumu has children and Kita is married. She doesn’t want to get in trouble.

Mira is loyal to Kiyoomi.

Taglist:  @elianetsantana​​ @aoi-turtle @ptv-hades  @aquzairus @a-applepi  @justoneofthefangirlsarianna-r13 @morenabambinii @chaelysian @loser-keiji​​ @mxngy @ne-kuroon1fangirlsblog @d-efend @missalicebaskervillemarvelousbakugou @agaashesmilktea​ @bonkyandloki @kimi09 @ntimacy @mkazuyuh  @ushi-please @minty-mangos-world @dearest-kiyoomi​ @yeehawslap  @onlyshinji @obsessedwhxre @adrasteiaxandromedaa @abuliawrites @song-of-storms162 @tnu-ree @keichainn  @bunnybitesthedust @lililiynx  @maitenight @prettyinblack231  @hyoonx23

[youarejesting]

Wash Out.21 (Sope Special)

[Master List]

Banners: @purpleskies1999 Pairings: Dolphintrainer!Taehyung x SharkDiver!Jin,  Mer!Jimin x Reader, Scientist!Namjoon x MerKing!Jungkook, Mer!Yoongi x Mer!Hoseok. Rating: 16+ Genre: Mystery, Romance, Comedy, Drama, Fantasy, little bit of Action, Slice of life, Enemies2Lovers, Friends2lovers, Social media au, Fake Texts, Fake Subs.

Summary: Taehyung and his best friend Y/N are Dolphin trainers at Wash Out; Marine Wildlife and Theme Park. When the nerdy marine biologist and resident veterinarian Doctor Kim Namjoon goes missing; the two friends form a ragtag team with Taehyung’s rival Seokjin and a…. Fish?

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Yoongi stood still, his legs shaking. It was not normal for him to be standing for this length of time. They were mermaids used to having tails their strength in the water. Swimming was like breathing. Of course their legs only appeared on their sacred land under the ocean.

They couldn’t walk on human land, could never compare to their leg strength. Most Mermaids spent their days in the water only entering the sacred land for celebrations. Yoongi being one of many guards would protect the royal family, albeit there was no longer a royal family. Jungkook was all that was left, a prince forced to be a king before he was ready. 

Guards were the most common of the merfolk to adorn legs. Jungkook was confined to the sacred land, his time in the water limited. Anything to keep him safe from the threat of other merclans. Each guard embellished in the silk of the clams. Byssus was woven finely like silk, the light material was surprisingly warm enough to protect the guards and King whilst in their more vulnerable form.

Yoongi looked across the crystal throne room, the love of his life standing just as tall, his stature stronger than Yoongi’s. A feat as Jungkook tore the room apart, bioluminescent vines and lanterns ripped from the walls. Food and wine splattered on the floor of their ancestors.

Hoseok’s mouth turned down, the sight unnatural for his usually cheerful disposition. The hardest part of their job was raising Jungkook, it seemed no matter how hard they tried to teach him right and wrong, politics and history they still came up short. He didn’t have a family, not anymore, he didn’t know how to share and never had to work for relationships. 

Everyone adored him, feared him, doted on his every whim. He was given the finest foods and all the newest technology Merfolk could offer. Anything to keep him content in his prison. It surprised Yoongi that Jungkook hadn’t questioned his confines, that he was complacent with their level of control over his freedom.

Jungkook no longer understanding, why his new found friend was so reluctant to stay. He extended all his riches and gifts to the human, something other merfolk would cherish. 

“Why does he still want to leave, with me he could be treated as a king,” Jungkook seethed, throwing a leg over the arm of his throne massaging his temples. “Leave me.”

Hoseok marched dutifully to Yoongi, supporting the older merman as they made their exit. Walking him to the entrance of the underwater cove, the air though damp enough to keep their lungs from feeling dry, they much preferred sinking into the cool water. Doing so allowed the power of the sacred land to slip away leaving only their natural form. 

The two transformed their black and blue tails wrapping around each other, a romantic gesture Yoongi enjoyed more than he wished to admit. They relaxed in eachothers arms peacefully, sinking further until they landed on the floor of the large network of caves. This is where most of the merfolk lived as they were still protected from the open ocean.

Under the cove was wide and besides a few stalagmite and stalactite the surface was predominantly flat. However the local life was anything but, everyone bustling around the settlement enjoying tending to the seaweed, crafting and protecting the sealife. 

“Jungkook, is struggling. He doesn’t understand how to handle rejection. He doesn’t understand that people value the same things,” Hoseok mumbled, massaging Yoongi’s lower back to help relieve tension from standing for such a long time.

“That human cannot survive long under the ocean, he grows weaker by the day, barely eating.” Yoongi huffed, “If Jungkook doesn’t let him go, the poor thing will die, Jungkook isn’t ready to experience something like that so close to him.”

“I think he has gotten too attached, losing this human might break him,” Hoseok bit his lip, “Dare I say he is in love with him, he could be his promised.”

Yoongi scoffed, the idea that Jungkook happened to find his promised one and he was a human, the first human he had ever met. Yoongi and Hoseok were unaware they were each other's promised until Yoongi had a week off from guard duty and started to get really sick. The two had met in the infirmary wasting away and only in one another's company did their condition improve. “Hoseok, that’s a bit much.”

A figure swam down the path quickly, heading straight to the sacred cove entrance, carrying something large. Was someone trying to attack their home? The two fell apart taking up offensive stances, each lurching forward when they spotted Jimin holding an unconscious human.

“Not another one,” Yoongi chastised, eyes sweeping over Jimin trying to be inconspicuous. Though he cared he showed it silently, not fond of open praise. The kind to listen and assist others out of sight.

“I have to make sure he is alright,” Jimin gave no further explanation, swimming up into the cove entrance dragging the human onto the sacred land. Jimin’s gold tail disappearing, leaving behind two bare legs. 

Wrapping himself in a cloth, the two followed. Yoongi strained to lift himself into an upright position. Hoseok brought out their usual transport, especially for Jungkook’s deliveries. In this case they threw the unconscious human across the shell of the crustacean and they headed to their king.

“Are all humans this big?” Yoongi asked, eyeing the figure draped beside Jimin. The two crab-pooling wasn’t the issue, the way Jimin looked genuinely concerned for the human was. It was no good for humans and Merfolk to fall in love, the dynamic wouldn’t end well. 

“No, they aren’t all this big, some of them are small, delicate and beautiful. They are magnificent, fascinating beings. Some are scary and mean and others are innocent and protective, just trying to do the right thing.” Jimin whispered, checking the humans breathing once more. 

“Is he your promised?” Hoseok asked softly, not knowing how to approach the topic sensitively. Jimin smiled, shaking his head. The thought appeared to have amused him.

“He is someone else’s promised,” Jimin said, “But I think I met her, she was beautiful and strong, never letting anyone stop her, never letting bad things keep her down. She would swim head first into enemy waters to save someone she barely knows.

The human groaned, “Where am I?” Jimin let out a sigh of relief, this human was waking up and didn’t seem to be physically hurt, at least there were no wounds they could see upon his flesh. “Am I dead?”

“No, you are not dead, you are in our settlement.” Jimin grinned at the disorientation present in Seokjin’s words. He was struggling to enunciate his words, each more like a whine drawn out.

Upon entering the crystal throne room the group tried their best to support the sluggish human inside. Gaining the attention of Jungkook, ceasing his brooding long enough to assist the three struggling mermen. As if hearing the commotion or perhaps Seokjin’s terrible jokes Namjoon emerged from where he had been staying.

“Jin! Are you okay?” Namjoon grabbed his friend, checking him over for injury, “What are you doing here?”

“Rescuing you and avoiding the police, I ran my car off the cliff and also may have destroyed the letter box outside your beach house.” He laughed, “Never really liked it anyway.”

“You did what?” Namjoon said, concerned, “Are you crazy?”

“Listen, we were being chased. It was all for you, and Jimin of course, returning Jimin and rescuing you.” Seokjin smiled at his friend. Yoongi thought these humans were weird, they were reckless and too odd for his liking. “I even teamed up with Taehyung and Y/n in order to save you. Do you know how hard that was?”

“Didn’t seem hard at all, you and Taehyung seemed to get along really well.” Jimin pushed the human with a smile, it was weird to see Jimin acting so comfortable with the humans. “We will return you so that the issue can be resolved, I am starting to grow worried about how we left.”

“What do you mean?” Seokjin asked confused

“Humans tackled Y/n and Taehyung dragged me into the water. Right before you and your car contraption fell into the water I killed the man who scared you all.” Jimin said proudly, this didn’t seem to go over well with the human’s. Yoongi hoped Jimin didn’t do something stupid turf war wasn’t on his to do list.

Yoongi didn’t understand the words coming from Seokjin’s face, if he had to liken it to anything, it sounded like vulgar slang, curse words. The human looked panicked.

“We have to go back, they are probably being sent to prison,” Seokjin said, trying to leave unsure which direction to go, “They are in big trouble.”

“Can’t you just talk to your king and explain and they will be removed from prison?” Jimin said

“Prison doesn’t work the same as it does here,” Namjoon explained, “Very Very bad people go to prison, Murderer’s, thieves and other despicable humans put in one place.”

“Yeah and if they go to prison, they may be beaten or worse,” Seokjin huffed. Jimin looked up at Jungkook who nodded, bringing out a small mirror and handing it to Jimin.

Looking over Jimin’s shoulder, Yoongi noticed a human different to the two infront of him, she was feminine delicate and leaking. “What is happening to her?”

“She is crying,” Jimin explained, “Humans do that when they are hurt or in despair, from what I have been told they do the same when they are happy too.”

“Confusing and a little stupid.” Hoseok laughed, “How do you know the difference?”

The charges have been dropped, Namjoon breathed listening to the interrogator, explaining that they couldn’t record the phenomenon that occurred on the beach. “They are being let go,” He smiled, a sight Yoongi hadn’t seen since he first laid eyes on their large domestic crustaceans.

“There is Taehyung,” Seokjin called out looking down, the two humans looked void of any emotion, they collected their things and climbed into the police car getting an escort to their homes. “They are safe and that’s all that matters.” 

Seokjin smiled, his eyes leaking much to Yoongi’s disgust. Namjoon smiled, he seemed a little amused by the older human. “I remember distinctly you saying you hated Taehyung with a passion and wanted him to choke on a sardine.” They two laughed for a moment, “When did things change?” 

“I guess when you are working as a team to save someone you develop an understanding.” Seokjin shrugged his large shoulders, “It also didn’t help that he was living in my house for almost a week.”

“You like him,” Namjoon poked him, “Admit it you have feelings for him.”

“We can head back when you are ready, we have returned Jimin home safely.” Seokjin smiled, looking around at the group and smiling, “I am Seokjin by the way, you can call me Jin.”

The man was goofy, reminding Yoongi of Jungkook himself, the two so alike in their childlike nature, letting themself play without hesitation. It was almost admirable that people could act so carefree, unaffected by how they could be perceived.

“I don’t know if I am allowed to leave?” Namjoon said, his smile falling, eyes fixed on the ground before him. 

Yoongi looked at his king, the spoiled young man reflecting on his actions, it had been many days since they saw the young man smile. Almost expecting him to refuse, Yoongi schools his expression when he doesn’t. 

“You should go, You don’t belong down here?” Jungkook took the mirror before walking away from the group to sit on the throne. He lowered his head looking at his reflection trying to distract himself from the pain. Letting your promised go was the hardest thing a merperson could do. Under normal circumstances, promises are only parted by death.

Namjoon walked over, placing a hand on the king's head and smiling at him, “If ever you want to visit, I would be happy to show you some great places, places you would love.” Jungkook’s broken heart warmed at the human’s dimples appearing softly in the flesh of his cheeks.

That was the last thing they needed, their king running off for a romance on the coast line. Seokjin swung his arm around Jimin playfully, the merman giggling whilst his legs almost buckled. “Yeah Jimin knows the private beach by Namjoon’s house, he can show you the way if you ever want to visit.”

Tags: @backinblack1967 @miriamxsworld @moccahobi @simplymemyself @a-gayish-unicorn @ella-mella @vjinfan23​

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