#how big is the imaging chamber really

[zarameraki]

♡₊˚🥀₊✧ 𝘀𝘂𝗸𝘂𝗻𝗮 𝗶𝘀 𝗼𝗯𝘀𝗲𝘀𝘀𝗲𝗱 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝗰𝘂𝗯𝗶𝗻𝗲 ♡₊˚🥀₊✧

: ̗̀➛ tropes: fem! reader 𖥔 minors do not interact 𖥔 king x concubine 𖥔 lots of plot with porn 𖥔 mentions of abuse 𖥔 mentions of sexual assault 𖥔 normal form sukuna (sorry yall but next time ill do his big boy one) 𖥔 he only has eyes for you 𖥔 you're his darling 𖥔 he would kill for you 𖥔 breeding (!!!!) 𖥔 alternate universe 𖥔 nsfw 𖥔 smut

: ̗̀➛ words: 8.8k

: ̗̀➛ notes: this took a whole WEEK to edit. im so obsessed with this story. it's my favourite thing ive written because i love period movies and dramas and really got to challenge my writing skills to give it more a fantasy-esque element. if you have any requests, don’t hesitate to send them. pls follow, reblog, like, comment—whatever you want! okay love you and enjoy.

The diligent hands of Lord Sukuna Ryomen’s palace attendants scrubbed away the grime that clung to every inch of your weary form. There were no traces of tears in your eyes, despite the discomfort of the cleansing process.

Perhaps it was the residue of gratitude for an escape from a foster family who saw fit to barter you away for a pittance to fuel their vices.

The water surrounding you had transformed into a murky haze, carrying away the evidence of your former life's hardships.

Yet, amidst this cleansing ritual, you couldn’t shake the puzzling thought of why the guards had singled you out from the other young women within the household. Uraume, the overseer of palace affairs, had arrived alongside them, their presence looming over the proceedings with an air of mystery.

That morning, you were subjected to abuse in front of everyone at the central market, longing for someone to stand up for you. And someone did. They offered you an escape from that hellhole and into a world of luxury.

You weren’t going to complain now that you had accepted this new fate of yours.

“Ya’ got too many scars, girl,” remarked one of the elderly attendants, gently assisting you out of the steaming bath, her hands wrapping a towel around your shivering form. “Our powders will struggle to conceal ’em all. How did ya’ come by such marks?”

“From my foster family,” you murmured, gaze fixed upon your toes as if they held the weight of your past. The plush carpet beneath your feet offered a small comfort, a luxury unfamiliar to your upbringing.

Memories of their harsh discipline flooded back—the blistering gravel underfoot as punishment for daring to voice dissent. It was a brutal introduction to a world where obedience was paramount.

“A wretched lot,” the attendant muttered sympathetically.

Enveloped in a silk robe, she led you into a chamber shared by a cohort of women, a realm far removed from the confines of your previous abode. Here, space was ample—the expanse excessive, with beds lining the walls and a high ceiling adorned with a single chandelier.

As you entered, a symphony of pretty faces and inquisitive gazes greeted you. Women of all colours and shapes reclined luxuriously in plain robes, their hair intricately braided or cascading freely down their backs. Conversations paused, curiosity piqued by your arrival, as all eyes turned to welcome you into their midst.

Beneath the weight of their scrutinising stares, you found yourself shrinking. These women, draped in silk and adorned with jewels, were the king's favoured concubines, a fact repeatedly emphasised during your journey to the palace and even in the fragrant confines of the bathhouse.

Every instinct urged you to rebel, to refuse to be just another ornament in the king’s harem, but you understood the value placed on purity by the monarch.

Unfortunately, your innocence had been cruelly stolen from you by your foster father, leaving you tarnished in body and spirit. Lord Sukuna would have no use for a damaged flower in his garden of perfection.

In truth, you couldn’t even imagine an image of his face in your mind. His Lordship remained a mystery to those beyond the palace walls.

“Here ya’ are.” The attendant guided you to your bed. “That vanity there’s yours to use.” She gestured toward the communal area by the window, where two other young women were preparing themselves. “Once your hair dries, one of my girls will assist ya’ in preparin’ for your audience with His Lordship.” Her touch was gentle as she caressed your cheek. “Rest assured, dear, ya’ safe now.”

You attempted a smile, though the effort seemed Herculean amidst your weariness.

As the attendant departed, her scolding to the rowdy girls fading into the background, you nestled into the comforting embrace of your soft bedding, ignoring the hushed criticisms trailing in your wake.

She’s feeble.

Her hair lacks refinement.

The king would never entertain a lowly pauper.

She’ll be gone by tomorrow.

Their words, like venomous serpents, slithered through the air.

Amidst their degradation, you succumbed to exhaustion.

But your slumber was interrupted by the bustling commotion of handmaidens assembling around you.

Disoriented and scarcely given a moment to collect your thoughts, you found yourself swiftly escorted to the vanity, where the clamour of girls jostling for space filled the air.

They manipulated your locks, weaving intricate patterns into your hair, fashioning a crown braid atop your head while allowing the remaining tresses to cascade freely down your back.

Meanwhile, other attendants removed your robe, their hands moving with practised efficiency as they anointed your skin with fragrant oils, infusing it with the delicate essence of lavender.

Between the flurry of activity, the whispers of your fellow concubines hung in the air like a veil of awe and trepidation. Their eyes were drawn to the scars marring your skin, as they speculated about how the king would perceive your imperfections as repulsive.

Good.

You craved precisely that outcome.

If the king recoiled at your sight, it meant he wouldn’t desire you to bear his heir. If the tales circulating in the town about his monstrous nature held any truth, then he’d likely offer you death as a reprieve—and you’d welcome it with open arms.

Before facing the king, you stole a glance at your reflection, the final moments of solitude before your fate was decided. The powder concealed the imperfections of your skin, rendering it smooth and flawless. Your cheeks and lips bore a muted hue reminiscent of crushed cherries. Delicate white blossoms adorned your hair, woven into your braids by nimble fingers.

As you stood, the other women adorned you in a robe of silky fabric, its floral pattern draping over your form, cinched at the waist to accentuate your curves. Barefoot, you followed them out, the chill of the floor beneath your feet a stark contrast to the warmth of anticipation and trepidation swirling within you.

“Good luck, pauper,” taunted one of the concubines, her voice dripping with disdain, echoed by a cacophony of mocking laughter.

Palms clammy with nerves, you shifted your gaze to the opulence of the palace corridors. Adorned with countless chandeliers and swathes of velvet drapery, they offered a stark contrast to the blooming back garden. Memories of tending to the earth and nurturing life back at your foster family’s home flooded your mind.

“Quickly now,” one of the maids urged, her voice tinged with urgency. “His Lordship detests tardiness.”

“I apologise.” You hastened your steps to keep pace with the group of attendants.

She halted before a grand set of double doors, guarded by imposing sentinels clad in formidable armour. With a flick of her wrist, the guards swung the doors open. She gently nudged you forward, and only as you crossed the threshold did the doors seal shut behind you.

You blinked, adjusting to the dimness within, scanning the chamber until your gaze alighted upon a pair of crimson glimmers opposite you. “My Lord?” You inclined your head and took hesitant steps toward the source of those fiery eyes.

“Come closer,” his command echoed through the chamber, sending a shiver down your spine. The low resonance of His Highness Sukuna Ryomen’s voice was unexpectedly rich and velvety. You had envisioned a voice tinged with age, but instead, it possessed a rough texture that awoken something within you.

With hesitant steps, you approached until you stood at the edge of his bed, your fingertips grazing the diaphanous curtains that enveloped him in a cocoon of privacy.

“Closer,” he urged, coaxing you to unveil the enigma lying beyond the veil.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you obeyed, parting the curtains and gracefully crawled onto the mattress. The silkiness of the sheets were a blatant contrast to the roughness of your foster house’s. A pang of guilt tugged at your conscience as you realized the irony of finding solace in this luxurious confinement of being his concubine.

“Enough.” His abrupt order halted your thoughts, drawing your attention back to the present moment.

As commanded, you obediently settled into your posture, folding your legs beneath you in the dimness. Within his shadowed realm, only the luminous crimson irises pierced through the gloom, studying you with an intensity that made your belly churn. Despite the curiosity burning within you, you restrained the impulse to voice your questions. Instead, you settled in the tranquillity that crowded the space between you.

“What is your name?” His inquiry cut through the hushed air.

“Y/N, my Lord.”

As your name slipped from your lips, he captured it delicately, repeating it like a sacred prayer. Each syllable danced on his tongue, imprinting itself upon the very essence of his being. In that moment, you observed a subtle shift—the shadows that had cloaked the chamber seemed to dissipate.

A soft, golden luminescence filtered through the parted curtains, cascading across half of Sukuna’s face.

You blinked in astonishment.

He appeared . . . young?

The age difference between you and him was not a chasm of decades, but rather a modest gap of no less than five years.

Physically, at least.

His appearance was striking, with locks of hair dyed a subdued pink hue, contrasting with a streak of darker shade beneath. His hair was styled into rugged spikes, lending an air of defiance. Intricate black markings adorned his features, tracing a path from his cheekbones down to his chin, while similar patterns wove across his strong shoulder, cascading over his defined pectoral muscles and sculpted abdomen.

As your eyes fell upon him, your heart quickened its pace, each beat a vicious drumming against your ribs. Gone was the expectation of a lord showing the signs of wisdom, with wrinkles upon his brow and a body marked by the passage of time. Instead, before you sat a vision of breathtaking beauty, defying your preconceived notions and leaving you breathless in awe.

With a graceful gesture, he swept aside the curtains, allowing them to unveil his entirety.

The same markings mirrored the other side of his face and cascaded down the length of his body, a mesmerising display of symmetry. Dark bands encircled his wrists, and his nails bore the same deep hue.

Poised against the headboard, he reclined with an air of effortless elegance, one knee raised as his elbow found a comfortable perch, while the other leg extended out. Though he was unclothed, a veil of silk sheets cloaked the lower half of his form.

“Remarkable,” you unknowingly whispered. Your hand clapped over your mouth. “I apologise, my Lord.”

Sukuna’s lips curved into a sinister grin, his flawless teeth gleaming in the golden light. While many would flee at the sight, you remained rooted in place, unable to tear your gaze away. A delicate flush spread across your cheeks, betraying the undeniable attraction simmering between your legs. He was absolutely divine, and the path of being his concubine suddenly didn’t seem so terrible.

Yet, the reality of sharing Sukuna with ten other women loomed over your thoughts like a shadow. The thought of him spreading his affections among so many others kindled a small flame of jealousy within you, mingled with confusion. Why hadn’t he impregnated at least one of them with the promise of an heir?

“Have you not been schooled in the art of lowering your gaze in the presence of nobility, Y/N?”

Your lashes fluttered as you registered your lapse in decorum, hastily averting your gaze. “Forgive me, my Lord, if my oversight has caused offence.” Surely, he wouldn’t punish you for a momentary lapse of admiration.

Would he?

A gentle touch beneath your chin guided your face upward. His fingers spread across your cheek, the warmth nearly forcing you to curve into his touch. Despite the temptation, your eyes remained obediently downward.

“Look at me.”

Your gaze lingered on him, tracing the delicate patterns etched over his cheek, the fiery hue of his irises, the elegant contour of his nose, and the soft curvature of his lips. Never before had you felt such a rousing desire towards any man. Yet fate had chosen to ensnare your heart with the one most forbidden to you.

“You bear a sadness that weighs heavily in your eyes,” he noted softly, his hand descending to the curve of your neck, his thumb caressing the frantic rhythm of your pulse. A low, melodic sound produced from his throat. “Tell me, my love, does the face before you stir fear within your heart?”

“It does not, my Lord. The fear of your appearance holds no dominion over me,” you declared with quiet resolve. “You’re quite . . . beautiful.”

Sukuna’s gaze sparked with a mixture of surprise and intrigue at your response.

Suppressing a nervous gulp, you silently reprimanded yourself for speaking so boldly to one of noble rank. Back in the confines of your former life, such defiance would have earned you swift punishment, yet here, in the presence of royalty, it could lead to your demise.

As you prepared to avert your gaze, ready to accept whatever consequences may come, Sukuna’s voice cut through the tense air before you could retreat.

“Don’t.”

In that moment, you found yourself questioning your instincts.

Why did you not cower in fear? Why did your body not tremble in the presence of a man who had slaughtered the lives of his enemies without hesitation? And most perplexing of all, how could you maintain unwavering eye contact with a figure of such formidable power?

“Remove your robe.” His grip remained firm around your throat, his thumb delicately tracing your pulse. “And do not stray your gaze elsewhere.”

“Yes, my Lord.” Your fingers loosened the fabric’s bindings, allowing it to cascade down your frame, and revealing the soft curvature of your form beneath. As it pooled around your lap, your breasts stood exposed to his scrutiny.

A shiver danced across your skin as his eyes traced the contours of your body, a faint smirk teasing his lips.

He brushed back strands of your hair, his touch trailing down your vertebrate. His eyes narrowed into thin slits, brows knitted together in contemplation, fingers repeatedly tracing the ridges of your scars.

“Turn around.”

The dreaded discovery that sent ripples of revulsion through the concubines had finally come to pass. Your scars lay exposed before the gaze of a powerful lord. Not only would he slit your throat, but also those of the maids who had tended to your needs, and perhaps even Uruame, who had brokered your purchase from the bastards responsible for your imperfections.

“Never before have I been compelled to repeat myself for a concubine.” His voice carried a lethal edge as he increased his grip around your throat. “Turn the fuck around.”

Your compliance came in slow, measured movements as you turned away, presenting your back to him in a gesture of submission. His hands gathered the strands of your hair, lifting them aside to reveal the raw truth etched into your skin. His fingers traced the jagged remnants of whip lashes, the seared imprints of cigars, and the cruel reminders of knife wounds inflicted by a foster father turned tormentor.

Silent tears traced a path down your cheeks, as you sat in a state of numbness, your gaze fixed upon the closed door of Sukuna’s chamber.

A tender sensation, soft and moist, grazed your back, prompting a reflexive twitch in your left shoulder.

Turning slightly, you beheld Sukuna pressing his lips against the scar that marred your shoulder blades.

“My Lord—”

“I did not ask you to speak,” he murmured over your skin, sending a tremor through your frame. “Rise onto your knees.”

Obeying his command, you ascended onto your knees, feeling the weight of his hands settle upon your waist. His lips trailed a path of reverence, bestowing kisses upon each mark that scarred your skin, from your marrow to your nape.

Your breath caught in a delicate dance of exhales, a whispered symphony escaping your parted lips. The wet caress of his tongue sent ripples of sensation coursing through your being.

His arm circled your waist, drawing you into the sanctuary of his embrace. A fleeting kiss graced the nape of your neck, followed by the suction of his lips upon the tender side of your neck. His soft hands possessively held the curve of your breasts, cradling their weight.

Your head reclined against his strong shoulder.

With his gaze fixed upon you, his lips glistened with a hint of moisture, while his crimson eyes locked onto your own human-like ones. You dared not divert your gaze as he previously ordered. His fingers pinched and pulled at your nipples, sending lightning strikes through your frame.

Unlike the non-consensual encounter of the past, there was no hint of agony; only a tantalising blend of pleasure that left you breathless, without a protest or helpless whimper. Instead, a sigh of pure rapture escaped your lips, encompassing your body in an embrace.

Sukuna’s gaze narrowed, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips as if he had stumbled upon a long-sought treasure.

His fingertips skated down your torso, gliding toward your centre. You captured your bottom lip between your teeth. Holding his gaze became a daunting challenge as he skillfully teased your sensitive nub, causing your breath to quicken and your chest to rise and fall with each exhilarating sensation.

Sukuna slid his middle finger into you. “You’re incredibly drawn, Sad Eyes,” he murmured, the endearment he had bestowed upon you almost provoking a smile. His lips grazed your ear as he continued. “Perhaps I should stretch you out”—he pushed in his ring finger, forcing a sharp gasp to tear from your throat and an involuntary arch of your body against his chest—“so that your cunt is able to welcome my cock.”

You stifled the knot rising in your throat as Sukuna plunged his fingers into you. Such profound bliss seemed inconceivable with mere digits alone.

“My Lord.” Your breath caught as he increased his tempo. “My—” Each thrust intensified the knot in your stomach, threatening to unravel you entirely. You teetered on the brink, dangerously close to staining his fingers with your release. A sharp gasp choked out of you as he struck a wondrous chord deep within. “Please, my Lord. I beg of you— I will soil your hand if you persist—” But your plea dissolved into a cry of ecstasy before you could utter another word.

Sukuna’s laughter danced teasingly in the hollow of your ear, leaving you utterly spellbound.

You were overheated, overstimulated, overridden by the explosive undoing from his fingers. Breathless and consumed by lust, your world spun as he seized your jaw and crushed his lips to yours.

In that electrifying moment, his tongue invaded your mouth, initially startling you, yet you surrendered to the rhythm.

Sukuna leaned back slightly after planting a tender peck on your lips. Exhaling softly, he threaded his fingers through your hair, his touch sending shivers down your spine. As his lips met yours once more, gentler this time, your hand ventured to trace the contours of his adorned chest.

“You are quite the vixen.” A playful glint danced in his eyes. “How valiant of you to seduce a lord into bestowing kisses upon his concubine.” A broad smile graced his lips, leaving you uncertain whether his words were playful jest or genuine admiration.

“Do you not bestow your kisses upon all your concubines, my Lord?”

“I do not pleasure their cunts, either.”

His speech carried the brashness of a tempest, a departure from the expected decorum one associated with royalty. Sukuna Ryomen defied conventions. It was a trait uncommon among lords, yet one that intrigued you deeply. His demeanour, both in battle and in the intimate confines of the bedchamber, lacked the softening. But you found yourself drawn to his unfiltered honesty, appreciating the absence of cryptic notions.

As you sat before him, considering your next words carefully, a surge of courage emboldened you to reveal your truth.

“My Lord,” you began, your voice quivering with uncertainty, “I . . . I am not pure.”

“Given the sounds you were drawing out,” he quipped with a chuckle, “I wouldn’t have surmised otherwise.” He assisted you in rising from where you rested against his chest, positioning you before him. Observing your solemn expression, he arched an eyebrow in curiosity. “Was your satisfaction not fulfilled?”

“Indeed, my Lord, it surpassed any expectation,” you confessed, worrying your lip as he sighed impatiently. “But I must disclose . . . I am not chaste.”

Sukuna’s response was subdued, save for the faint twitch in his jaw. He averted his gaze from yours momentarily, reaching for the decanter on his bedside table and pouring himself a measure of spirits.

“Speak,” he instructed, his tone clipped.

“It occurred before I reached maturity,” you murmured softly, your arms wrapped protectively around yourself. “My foster father—” Your words faltered as Sukuna raised a hand, a silent acknowledgment of his comprehension of your unspoken anguish.

“I need not hear more.” He swiftly consumed the crimson liquid in a single gulp. “You are dismissed for the night.”

“But my Lord’s desires remain unmet—”

“Leave,” he commanded, his tone final and unwavering.

With a gulp, you hastily gathered your robe around your form, delicately extricating yourself from his expansive bed.

Just as you thought to retreat, a firm hand seized your wrist, drawing you back into Sukuna’s embrace. His lips melded with yours in an intoxicating kiss, causing both your gazes to flutter open when he pulled away. A faint smirk played upon his lips as he adjusted the robe over your shoulder.

“Next time,” he murmured, plucking a flower from the adornments in your hair and placing it upon his bedside, “you shall grace my chambers without such distracting embellishments upon yourself.”

“As you wish, my Lord,” you replied with a respectful bow of your head, awaiting his dismissal until he gestured for you to depart with a casual wave of his hand.

In the shared chambers, your fellow concubines swirled around your bed, eager to hear of your inaugural encounter with Lord Sukuna.

Each girl shared their own vivid tales, painting scenes of ecstasy under the cloak of darkness, where the king’s touch invoked sensations akin to celestial bodies colliding, or where unfamiliar pleasures erased the boundaries of their throat—whatever that latter entailed.

Though a twinge of jealousy flickered within you, it was swiftly overshadowed by a swell of pride. The concubines pleasured Sukuna in darkness, the same darkness you had willingly entered, before his touch had set ablaze a world of gold for you.

They were merely beautiful means of physical gratification for their lord, devoid of the intimacy you shared—his fingers delving deep into your core. And never had any of them spoken of kisses exchanged. Sukuna had spoken true when you questioned if others received similar treatment.

But why you?

Why, after a mere span of ten hours within the palace walls, did you find yourself, dare you entertain the notion, as his favoured? What magic did you possess that drew him to you, and how had you managed to seduce his lips, his fingers, to meet yours in such an intimate embrace?

“Did he spend himself inside you?” one of the girls whispered, prodding your knee to rouse you from your silence.

“No.”

“Aye, he never does,” remarked a golden-haired girl with a resigned sigh. “He sees to it that we consume some berries afterward, claiming they prevent conception. Strange, isn’t it? Especially if he’s so eager for an heir.”

Another girl hushed her, leaning in with a conspiratorial tone. “Did he take you from behind? That’s his favoured position, you know. He’s had us all that way.”

You stumbled over your words, unsure how to respond.

“And did you savour his taste?” came the next question. “It’s quite rich in sodium—”

“Girls!” A booming voice echoed from the doorway of the bedroom, startling you and the other concubines into immediate attention. You caught sight of the elderly attendant who oversaw your care, hands planted firmly on her hips as she observed the chaotic scene before her.

With a disapproving huff, she pivoted sharply on her heel and departed, leaving a lingering sense of reprimand in her wake.

As the frenzied chatter about Sukuna’s body attributes gradually dissolved into the quietude of sleep, morning arrived with its routine of communal showerings.

Throughout the shared bath, you silently scrubbed away the remnants of the night, indulging your fellow concubines about your previous life in town.

Upon drying off and exiting the bathing chamber, you were met with an unexpected sight: a gathering of the girls clustered around your bed.

Navigating through the throng, you reached your space to discover a resplendent scarlet silk robe embroidered with intricate black floral patterns.

Gingerly lifting the note placed atop the fabric, you read Sukuna’s precise handwriting. Curious glances from the other concubines peered over your shoulders in anticipation.

No distracting embellishments, Sad Eyes.

“What does that mean?” a curious whisper floated through the air, followed by murmurs of intrigue from the other girls. “Why does he call you ‘sad eyes’?”

You clutched the letter to your chest, suppressing a grin as you ignored the questions, the mockery, and the jostling of bodies around you. Your attention was fixated on the magnificent robe gifted to you by His Lordship.

For the remainder of the evening, you slept without any interruptions, seeking to compensate for the countless nights spent battling insomnia within the confines of your foster home.

You observed with a keen eye that none of the other girls were ushered to Sukuna’s chambers; their time seemed to veer toward strolls in the back garden or spent in the dormitory, indulging in wine-fueled scandals about the palace staff, as was their custom.

As the clock struck eight in the evening, a troupe of maids entered the chamber bearing dinner trays. A wave of anticipation swept through the room as the other girls eagerly accepted their meals and accompanying pitchers of water. Your own stomach rumbled in hunger, awaiting your own turn.

But that moment never arrived.

Instead, the maid bypassed your bed entirely, moving on to the next. A surge of apprehension rippled through you as a handmaiden approached, guiding you away from the mattress and toward the vanity.

“What about my dinner?” you asked as the attendants groomed your hair.

“His Lordship has extended an invitation for you to dine with him tonight,” came the reply.

The room fell into a sudden hush.

Dine with him?

The notion sent a flurry of thoughts racing through your mind.

Before you could process further, you found yourself pulled upright, your garments removed to be replaced by the scarlet robe.

Envy flickered in the eyes of the other concubines as they observed, their resentment palpable as they stabbed at their food with exaggerated aggression. It wasn’t your doing that Sukuna had taken an unexpected interest in you.

With no adornments save for a dab of crushed cherry paste upon your lips, you were escorted to Sukuna’s chambers.

Once more, the imposing doors swung open, and you found yourself gently ushered into the chamber. As they sealed shut behind you, the room was flooded with light. Sukuna’s figure stared out at the moonlit gardens outside, clad in a billowing white silk robe.

“My Lord,” you greeted respectfully, inclining your head in deference.

“Draw near.”

Complying with his directive, you approached and stood at his side. His presence loomed over you, his stature commanding and formidable, capable of engulfing you entirely with a single embrace. Not that such thoughts dared to linger in your mind.

“Why is your face flushed?” he asked, his gaze penetrating.

You blinked, attempting to dismiss the telltale warmth creeping up your cheeks. “It’s nothing, my Lo—”

Before you could finish, Sukuna turned your chin towards him, his palm coming to rest against your forehead. A nervous swallow traced its way down your throat at his touch, his eyes trailing down your form, a knowing smirk tugging at the corners of his lips as they settled upon you in your robe.

“Thank you for your gracious gift,” you murmured, feeling the warmth rise to your cheeks.

His fingers trailed through your hair, a mischievous glimmer dancing in his eyes. “I anticipate nothing less than thoroughly enjoying the privilege of removing it off of you.”

You blushed deeper at his statement.

“Come now. I’ve brought a surprise for you.” He took your hand in his with a tug, guiding you towards a doorway. With a simple flick of his fingers, the door parted, revealing a dimly lit hallway beyond.

Your gaze widened in astonishment. “How did you do that, my Lord?”

“Do what?”

“You opened the door without laying a hand on it.”

Sukuna’s striking blood-coloured eyes cut to you. “There is much about me that will be unveiled in due course, my love. What you perceive is but a guise for my true nature.” His smile, oddly childlike, sent a chill down your spine.

Was he some sort of sorcerer? You’d only heard whispers of human anomalies lurking beneath the earth’s surface or sealed within vessels, but historical accounts weren't exactly your cup of tea.

“I ventured into town today,” he said.

“Oh.” You swallowed hard, recovering from his previous statement. “I hope it was a fruitful trip.”

“Indeed, quite fruitful.”

In the soft glow of the distant hallway, Sukuna’s face came into view, casting a spell of trepidation upon your heart. His features were drawn into a mask of stoicism, his eyes devoid of warmth, and his lips pressed into a firm line, jaw rigid with tension.

Parting the curtains, Sukuna drew you near, his arm sweeping out to reveal a horrifying sight: your foster father, bound to a chair with chains, wearing the cruel marks of torture.

His face marred by countless wounds, an eye absent, and teeth scattered at his feet. His dignity stripped away, his vulnerability laid bare in his nakedness, and his manhood amputated.

The sickening lurch in your stomach threatened to betray your composure. “F-Forgive my intrusion, my Lord, but is he . . . is he dead?”

Sukuna’s response was a gilded dagger from within his robe, its handle decorated with a jewel reminiscent of your own captivating eyes. Nestled within the hilt was the very flower he had plucked from your hair. Upon the blade, your name was inscribed.

“Do as you wish, my beloved,” he whispered, his voice stained with dark fascination, offering you the instrument of your foster father’s fate with a chilling sense of detachment.

You couldn’t possibly bring yourself to commit such a heinous act.

Despite the unspeakable cruelties inflicted upon you by the bastard, the idea of taking another’s life filled you with a trembling dread.

Yet, the itch to end the torment, to rid the world of such a vile presence, simmered just beneath the surface as you stood before him, his life slipping away.

A hand trailed down the back of your head, guiding your trembling fingers to grasp the dagger tightly.

Looking up, you met Sukuna’s gaze, his expression hollow, his features obscured by shadows. This was the face of the Devil that cursed his enemies on their knees and had them willingly submit to death.

With a push from behind, you stumbled forward, drawing closer to your step-father’s prone form.

Glancing back at Sukuna, you were met with an incongruously bright smile. Quite a twisted paradox, His Lordship.

Your step-father sat unconscious, the stench of his bodily fluids assaulting your senses. His wounds oozed with a sickening mixture of blood and pus, his laboured breaths the only indication of life remaining within him. The scene was painfully familiar, a mirror image of the torment you had endured countless times before.

But now, someone had intervened, offering you a chance at liberation, a chance to end the cycle of abuse once and for all.

You glanced back again.

Until Sukuna.

Your gaze reluctantly returned to the true embodiment of cruelty before you. With a steady hand, you raised your arm, wielding the dagger with purpose.

It found its mark in your foster-father’s chest, a chilling silence punctuated only by the sound of steel meeting flesh. Ignoring the strangled cry that erupted from him, you withdrew the blade, then drove it back into his heart.

Out.

In.

Out.

In.

His lifeblood painted your face and stained your pristine garments, mingling with the fabric in a macabre dance of crimson. To the untrained eye, it could easily be mistaken for a mere splash of vibrant colour upon your robe.

No one would dare suspect the truth.

No one would dare come near if they knew of your sin.

No one, except Sukuna.

Once the monster over your bed was consigned to the depths of hell, his guts spilling onto the floor around your bare feet, you allowed yourself a moment of grim satisfaction.

With a contemptuous snarl, you spat upon him, a visceral response to the years of degradation he had inflicted upon you for every misstep.

A comforting warmth touched your back.

Startled by the sudden contact, you tensed before easing at the sight of Sukuna’s faint smile.

As he reached to caress your cheek, you instinctively recoiled, lowering your gaze in deference.

“Forgive me, my Lord,” you murmured, “but I cannot permit you to spoil your hands with the blood of this man.”

Sukuna’s shoes entered your line of sight as he tilted your chin upward, his moon-white sleeve wiping away the traces of blood from your mouth and its vicinity. “You appear rather exquisite painted in blood, Sad Eyes. Perhaps I ought to designate you as my prized assassin instead of a mere concubine.”

“I beg your pardon, my Lord, but I cannot partake in killing . . . again.”

“You need not worry,” he whispered, his breath warm against your ear as he drew near. “I will defend you from any who cast their gaze upon you, let alone lay a hand upon your delicate form. Those who dare cross that line will face my wrath, their very existence extinguished before your eyes. Not a single tear shall stain your cheeks.” His lips brushed against yours. “From this moment forward, fear shall not reside within you. By my side, you shall command fear itself, my love.”

That night, Sukuna bathed you in the sanctuary of his chambers, washing away the traces of blood from your skin as you gazed at him with a sense of wonder. It wasn’t the superficial admiration the other concubines whispered about—it was a profound affection blossoming within you, nurtured by power and protection.

He draped you in the luxurious folds of one of his silk robes, summoning servants to prepare dinner. Seated upon his lap, he fed you spoonfuls of rice and chicken, even as your stomach protested its fullness. Soft kisses peppered your neck like a sweet dessert, culminating in one upon your lips before he reluctantly released you to retire to your dormitory.

In the ensuing weeks, Sukuna would consistently send a crafted robe ahead of each meeting—in the serene seclusion of his chambers, where the flickering candlelight cast shadows upon the walls as you dined together.

Over the course of these intimate dinners, he eagerly absorbed your musings, whether they revolved around the narratives of books discovered within the palace library or your adeptness with herbs and plants, nurtured by your profound knowledge.

On occasion, as the first light of dawn painted the sky with hues of pink and gold, Sukuna would summon you for a stroll in the haven of the back garden. Woven between the fragrant blooms, you’d dance about with childlike enthusiasm, identifying various flowers and tracing their lineage.

Ever the attentive listener, Sukuna trailed behind you, his gaze fixed upon your animated figure. He would only speak when you fell silent, demanding you to continue sharing the familial ties between apples, plums, and the roses they stemmed from.

Within the crevice of your soul, the once withered garden of affection had flourished into a lush wilderness, blossoming with untamed wildflowers and clouds that spelled out his name.

Sukuna inhabited your every waking thought, his intoxicating mouth that worshipped your body left you giggling in delight behind your hands.

Yet, each encounter with a fellow concubine, flushed and eager with tales of their rendezvous with him, felt like thorns piercing your tender heart. Jealousy, like ivy creeping upon stone, entwined itself around your every plagued thought. Your gaze often strayed to the bedside drawer where the dagger lay dormant. The mere mention of his physique by the other women tormented your soul relentlessly.

Why hadn’t Sukuna taken you as he had with every other concubine? You had grown accustomed to his presence, even eager to reciprocate the pleasure he gifted you every evening. You had offered yourself willingly, aching for the intimacy that would bind you even closer to him. But he had not claimed you in the same manner, not entered you fully, not seeded his legacy within you.

Did he question your worthiness? Did he see you merely as a transient pleasure? Were you destined to remain just a concubine, forever denied the honour of carrying his child?

“Why do you remain silent?” Sukuna asked, turning the pages of the book you had suggested to him; he was already half-way through.

You were seated snugly between his legs upon the bed, your back rested against his chest, fingers idly toying with the strands of your hair. “I find myself devoid of words this evening.”

“Hmm.” Sukuna took a leisurely sip of his drink before placing it aside. “Surely you can conjure something. You know well enough that I cannot endure your silence.”

With an exasperated sigh, you rolled your eyes. “Well, I apologise for failing to provide you with amusement, my Lord.”

Sukuna snapped the book shut.

You instinctively pressed your lips together, silently chiding yourself for the unintended sharpness in your voice.

With a heavy sigh, you resigned yourself to maintaining your composure, forcing yourself to take slow, steady breaths. Deep down, you believed that he wouldn’t inflict harm upon you or cast you out of his chambers. But the nagging thought chewed at you.

This was Sukuna Ryomen, and you . . . well, you were merely a shadow in comparison.

“If you crave my touch,” he breathed softly into your ear, “all you need to do is utter the request.”

With a determined resolve, you turned to face him, settling yourself upon his lap. Sukuna regarded you with a quirked eyebrow, a quiet acknowledgment of your unconventional audacity.

“I do crave your touch, my Lord,” you confessed, your voice a hushed plea, “but not only with your hands or lips. I long to feel you in a different manner.” Your gaze drifted down to his pelvis, the unspoken appetite evident in your eyes. “I crave that.”

Sukuna exhaled heavily, his gaze piercing as he addressed you. “So, you’ve been withholding your words simply because I haven’t fed you my cock?"

Heat rose to your cheeks at his blunt proclamation, though you had grown accustomed to his coarse mannerisms over time.

“Yes, my . . . Lord.” Your voice carried a mixture of embarrassment. “I’ve endured three long months of anticipation, patiently waiting to share in the pleasures enjoyed by your other consorts. Yet, with the arrival of autumn, I find myself still untouched by the experiences they so openly boast about.”

His lips curled into a smirk. “Are you asking me to bed you merely for the purpose of becoming a notch in your bragging rights?”

“Never, my Lord!” you protested vehemently, a hint of hurt flickering in your eyes. “I would never demean you with such vulgar talk in public. I’ve spun tales to the others, concealing the truth of our encounters. They remain oblivious to the pleasures you’ve granted me.” Your fingers traced the intricate markings on his chiselled abdominal muscles. “If my spoiled state displeases you, if I am deemed unworthy of your touch, pray, inform me now. Regardless, my sole wish is to fulfil His Lordship’s needs.”

Sukuna disentangled your hands from his chest, a gesture that caused a fissure to form within your heart, forcing your body to instinctively withdraw from his touch.

Just as you began to pull away, he swiftly encircled his arm around your waist, tugging you back onto his lap with a firm grip. Before you could utter a single word, his lips descended upon yours, silencing any protest with a passionate kiss.

With a purposeful touch, he skillfully divested you of your robe, revealing the curves of your form beneath. His hands, warm and adept, began to massage your supple breasts, kindling soft gasps from your lips. His own trailed a wet path downward, leaving a bridge of feverish kisses along the expanse of your throat, lingering over the rapid pulse beneath your skin.

As his lips found purchase on the tender flesh of your neck, his actions became more urgent, his touch more demanding. A pinch at your pebbled nipples sent a shiver of sensation coursing through you, followed by the heat of an open-mouthed kiss.

Your gaze drifted downwards, enchanted by the sight of his tongue encircling the sensitive spots, suckling on the swollen buds like a babe. Already, heat was building within the depths of your being, igniting a flame that spread between your legs.

Sukuna laid you back, relishing the delicate flavour of your lips as his fingers skillfully sought out your throbbing clit, stimulating it with unhurried circles.

With practised ease, he slipped two fingers inside you, quickening his rhythm without preamble. Your hand instinctively traced down to his chest, undoing the fastenings of his robe.

“Take it,” he whispered against your mouth, his breath mingling with yours. “Satisfy your lord, my love.”

Your fingers curled around his pulsating cock, the very object of desire that the other girls had passionately recounted. The knowledge of their previous intimacies with him only stoked the flames of envy within you, spurring you to intensify your ministrations.

With a surge of determination, you quickened the pace of your caresses, applying pressure with your thumb upon his sensitive tip while fondling his sacs.

Sukuna’s grin widened against your lips as he reciprocated with equal zeal, slipping a third finger into your slick heat until he was fully engulfed by your swollen core.

Together, you sailed upon the waves of raw carnal desire, locked in a lecherous race to reach your climax, each vying to be the first to cross the finish line—

Sukuna’s low, guttural moans resonated throughout the chamber.

You had achieved victory.

His essence spilled forth into your waiting hands, his cock convulsing with the intensity of his release. Moments later, you succumbed to your own climax, a soft cry escaping your lips.

With care, Sukuna withdrew his hand from your centre, and you instinctively examined your palm, noting the striking resemblance of his essence to your own.

You tentatively brought your fingers to your lips, savouring the taste of him.

“I did not instruct you to do that,” he growled, his gaze blazing as you tasted him. “But I suppose I’ll permit it.”

“It is salty,” you murmured, almost absentmindedly.

“Oh for fuck’s sake, are you women incapable of discussing anything besides my cock?” he exclaimed, frustration evident in his tone.

You couldn’t help but laugh, the tension dissipating as he cleaned his fingers with his tongue before tenderly cradling the back of your head, drawing you to sit upon his lap. Your laughter softened into chuckles, a smile playing upon your lips.

“Did I please you, my Lo—”

“Sukuna,” he interrupted firmly. “Only you may address me by my given name.”

“My L—”

“I command it.” His tone left no room for argument.

You affirmed your agreement with a nod.

He was Sukuna.

Your Sukuna.

“Very well, Sukuna.” You felt a subtle shift in the air between you. His chuckle rumbled softly. “Shall I turn around for you?”

“And why do you deem such an unnecessary act necessary?”

“Because—” You suppressed the urge to divulge the whispers of the other concubines regarding his favoured position. “Never mind. How would you prefer me to present myself to you?”

“As you are,” Sukuna answered, his grip tightening around himself. “How you managed to have me spend by your hand in under five minutes is a marvel beyond my comprehension.”

Internally, you gave yourself a congratulatory pat on the back.

“Now, my love,” he said, inclining his chin towards his erection, “will you do my cock the honour of sitting on it?”

Licking the grin of your lips, you nodded, rising to your knees. With nimble fingers, you positioned his hardened length at your entrance, gradually lowering yourself onto him.

A sharp intake of breath escaped Sukuna’s lips, his hands instinctively grasping your hips. You bit down on the inside of your cheek, enduring the initial sting of penetration. Perhaps every touch of his fingers had been a meticulous groundwork for this pinnacle moment.

As you settled into your seat upon him, you granted yourself a minute to acclimate to the sheer magnitude of him stretching and filling your tight, supple walls.

Sukuna tilted his head back, impatience evident in his eyes. “Will you begin moving at a pace befitting this century, Sad Eyes?”

“Just a moment,” you retorted, your tone tinged with irritation.

“Unfortunately, the sight of your leaking cunt is testing my patience,” he remarked, his gaze lingering provocatively on your flushed form.

Collecting yourself, you affirmed your resolve with a nod before subtly adjusting your position, and swaying your hips forward. His strong hands guided you, aiding your movements as you sought a rhythm. “Gods, you’re— You’re quite large. It’s rather discomforting.”

“Ah, where has the enthusiasm to please your lord vanished, my love?” His laughter echoes through the chamber as he leaned back, amused by your scowl. “I must confess, your defiance is perhaps your most alluring trait. It has crossed my mind more than once during moments of handling myself in the bath.”

Your brow furrowed in dismay.

It was evident that the other concubines possessed far greater expertise in pleasuring him than you ever could. All you could manage was to feign enthusiasm, your movements faltering and disjointed, as you struggled to produce even a fraction of the satisfaction they effortlessly blessed him with. His laughter, which wasn’t helping your cause, bore an uncanny resemblance to the mocking tones of the girls who had taunted you in the past.

You no longer wished to endure this charade.

You halted in your tracks, unable to muster the courage to meet his gaze, your eyes fixated instead on his throat. “It appears . . . that I may not be adequately versed in fulfilling your needs. I shall endeavour to educate myself further before making another attempt. For now, I request permission to retire for the evening, my Lord.”

Sukuna’s grip tightened as he seized your jaw, compelling you to meet his gaze. “You dare to defy my command to address me by my given name?” His smile remained wicked as he drew your face closer to his own. “Remember, my love, there is a boundary to which I tolerate your rebellion. Do not allow my affections to cloud your judgement. I remain your Lord, above all else. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” you managed to gasp out.

“Yes what?”

“Yes, Sukuna,” you replied, your voice trembling with uncertainty.

With a swift motion, he released your sore jaw, and before you could even consider easing the ache, his lips crashed against yours.

In that moment, control slipped from your grasp entirely. His hands gripped the flesh of your buttocks possessively, guiding your movements as he claimed you with a primal savageness that left you shaking in his embrace.

“Does it pain you, my beloved?” Sukuna growled, his fingers curling around your nape possessively. “Do you feel the strain of my cock as I breach your tender walls?”

You whimpered softly, your head nodding against the curve of his neck.

“Fear not, my darling. I will diligently train this cunt of yours to accommodate every inch of me, dusk, dawn, and twilight. Your throat, too, shall be honed to fulfil my every whim, wherever and whenever I demand.” With a swift motion, he tugged your hair, forcing you to meet his glare. “And should you dare to entertain thoughts of defiance with any other man beyond the confines of my chamber, rest assured, there will be consequences.”

“Sukuna,” was all you gasped, eyes rolling back as his tip probed the depths of your womb. His tongue traced the delicate curve of your throat before shoving into your mouth, drawing out your own to suckle on. In the heat of the moment, your hands roamed aimlessly, torn between grasping at his waist, clutching his shoulders, or caressing his cheeks.

“Oh, how I love the sight of your breasts greeting me in my face.” Sukuna tightened his hold on each of them with a deadly grasp, savouring the melodious cry that escaped your lips. He lowered his head and teethed each nipple, drawing it out and relishing in the masochism of your sharp nails clawing down his back. “Deeper, my darling. You alone hold the privilege of marking my flesh. Let my scars mirror yours.”

With caution, you shifted your hands to rest upon his firm pectoral muscles before you could accidentally claw out his spinal cord.

Sukuna’s touch drifted from your bruised breasts to cradle your face, guiding your gaze to meet his crimson one.

Encouraged by his comforting presence, you arched your hips forward with newfound confidence. His fingers swept through your hair, pushing it away as he offered reassuring nods.

Now, the reins rested firmly within your grasp.

“Fuck . . .” Leaning back against the headboard, he released soft sighs. Warm breaths escaped his parted lips as you continued increasing your ministrations. Your gaze momentarily flickered to your favourite book resting on his bedside table before returning to his face.

Suddenly seized by an impulse, you leaned forward to plant a tender kiss upon his lips, trailing upward to gently brush against his cheekbones, tracing the intricate markings lining his skin.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Someone must play the role of the tender one between us, Sukuna,” you answered, mirroring the attention he had given your scars during your initial encounter. With each kiss, you felt his eyes tracing your movements, following the path of your lips as they journeyed across his face, landing upon his nose or the pulse of his neck.

“My beloved,” Sukuna’s voice caressed your ears, drawing your focus entirely to him, “listen closely to my words.”

You halted your movements, a curious expression dancing in your eyes. “What troubles you?”

With a deliberate motion, he guided your hips forward, his gaze unwavering. “Throughout the night, I will fill your womb ceaselessly, and in mere weeks, you shall carry my legacy within you.” Your heart leaped into your throat, fluttering with an overwhelming rush of emotion. “Peril will shadow your every step. Those who oppose us will stop at nothing to eliminate your life and the life of our child. Do you comprehend the gravity of our situation?”

You blinked back the tears, resigning yourself to the inevitable.

“But I vow upon my honour, such an atrocity shall never come to pass. I will sever entire bloodlines if even a single strand of your precious hair were harmed.” His movements quickened as he thrusted into you.

Your grip tightened on his shoulders again, gasping for breath between erratic pants.

“At dawn’s light, all concubines shall be reassigned to palace duties. You need only point out those who have dared to trouble you, though their transgressions are already known to me.” His motions became more intense as he pressed you onto your back, pinning your arms above your head. “And when the sun graces the horizon, you, my beloved, shall be proclaimed as my queen.”

Your voice wailed through the chamber as you cried out his name, drowning in the waves of scorching pleasure never before experienced.

Instead of seeing celestial bodies colliding, your gaze met the deep crimson of his irises, those same eyes that had captivated you on that very first night.

“Sukuna . . . ”

With a smile mirroring his own, you tilted your head upward, silently beckoning him to seal the moment with a kiss. As he obliged, his cock pulsed within you, filling you with his warmth until every fibre of your being was tethered with his.

But he didn’t withdraw. Just as he had promised, he intended to keep you close throughout the night, to claim you as his own.

And in that moment, as you laid with him, you welcomed the dawn of a new chapter standing beside him, prepared to reign as Sukuna Ryomen’s queen.

[sexy-monster-fucker]

Burgeon

Logan Howlett x Reader Sex Pollen

Summary: Reader works in the science lab at the mutant academy. Trying to grow a new plant from a mutated seed they had found. When the bloom puffs a cloud into her and Logan’s face they both begin feeling strange.

CW: oral m!receiving, oral f!receiving, biting, p in v, creampie

a/n: sorry this took so long to write I was depressed :D also surprise its today

~~~

You rested your head on your hands as you watched the plant in front of you slowly yet rapidly bloom a gorgeous, wine red bud. The way the flower held itself closed mesmerized you. How small bumps decorated the stem and the leaves along it were a dark purple color.

Logan, a.k.a. The Wolverine stood next to you. Piddling with one of the enclosed flora that was under surveillance. Not all that interested in the details of your work, but enjoying spending time with you. Especially when the big blue fur ball was not around to distract you. Dusk was approaching as it shined through the greenhouse windows. A beautiful color painted the sky as the darkness of the night approached.

“Oh, Logan! Look the bud is about to bloom!” You wrapped your arm around his pulling him over to you. He groaned as you pulled him over to you. You watched closely as the petals fought each other to release. Taking their sweet time to reveal the beauty within.

“Sure is taking its time,” Logan huffed, eyes fixated on you now. Loving how happy you looked awaiting the new flowers arrival.

The petals dispersed. Revealing the most beautiful black center of the flower. A large cloud of purple dust coming out with it. Before you could say anything, you and Logan both inhaled the fumes. Covering your mouth and coughing aggressively as the pollen stuck to the inside of your mouth. You wide eyed the plant, shocked at what came out of it.

“What the hell— that thing isn’t poisonous is it?!”

“I… I don’t really know,” you meekly whispered.

“What do you mean you don’t know?”

“I mean we found this thing, noticed it was displaying some irregular behavior for a seedling of its type. And we decided to monitor it. I didn’t know it was going to cough up smoke at us!”

Logan stamped his foot. Frustrated by the lack of caring on your part. Pacing in a small circle next to you with the bridge of his nose between his fingers.

“Okay! We just have to stay here for the next 48 hours. Keep us under supervision just in case we feel any side effects. We go about our days like normal, just can’t leave the Academy,” you rubbed your hand up and down your arm. Logan irritably took a seat, head down with his hands folded over his lap. You grabbed the pod and placed it in a holding chamber all of its own. Walking over and kneeling down in front of Logan.

“I’m sorry. If I had known—“ you reached your hand out to rest it on Logan’s leg.

“You don’t have to be sorry. We can forget all about it at the party tonight. Celebrating whatever the hell Charles was on about,” Logan grinned at you.

You smiled, “I’ll celebrate anything if it means free drinks.”

Logan left the greenhouse while you finished up cleaning and double checking everything. A sudden hot flash washed over your body. Pulling a sweat from every inch of you. You fanned your hand in front of your face, your clothes feeling oddly tight suddenly. Maybe someone turned the heat up in the greenhouse. You walked over to check the thermostat. Nothing about the number had changed. As long as it was reading right you were comfortable leaving it be.

Walking up to your room. Heat engulfed you, a minor ache on your body now approaching. Choosing to ignore the problem entirely. Changing into something more comfortable for the evening ahead. Looking at yourself in the mirror when a sudden, promiscuous image flashed in your mind.

Logan.

Behind you. Both of you completely nude as he pounded into you. Watching yourself take him in the mirror. His hands splayed out on your chest, lips on your neck.

Your face flushed with your arousal. Unable to fight the feeling forming deep down inside you. Aching at your core. Leaning over your bed as you writhed.

The feeling of his hands grabbing your hips. Buried completely inside you. Your back arching to meet his thrusts. Head thrown back in pure ecstasy.

You gasped at the thought. Unsure of what was happening to you. Uncontrollably desire was taking over your body. Your hand found your aching core in an attempt to cool yourself down. Scrunching up your face at the feeling. It felt good, but not right. It was not what you needed. You needed him.

Your face was completely flushed with thoughts of Logan. Trying your hardest to make it less noticeable before going downstairs.

“Just stop,” you told yourself.

Heading down to the common area where all your fellow teachers had gathered. An adults only party, all the students were off away. You smiled as you greeted your fellow mutants. Getting stopped by Hank. His warm smile and soft eyes pulling your attention to him.

“Hi, Hank,” you smiled as you walked over to him.

“Hello, beautiful,” Hank grinned, fangs decorating his bright white smile. You thought about how his teeth would feel against your neck. Blushing at the idea of the large monster on top of you. Your thoughts suddenly morphing to fit Logan into your fantasy. Fangs nipping at your skin as strong hands held yours above your head. Panting as he thrusted into you. Sweat dripping down his forehead.

“Everything going good with that mysterious plant of yours?” Hank questioned, breaking your fantasy.

“Uh— Yeah, kinda. It bloomed today but some purple pollen came out it. Not sure if that’ll have any effect on me,” you droned off as you saw Logan enter the room. Completely fixated on him now. Seeing his bulging muscles revealed by his tank top. His broad shoulders and strong brow bone indicating he was some form of frustrated. His eyes finally caught yours. Awkwardly you turned back to focus on Hank as you continued on about the beauty of the mysterious flower. Unable to keep Logan in your peripheral. Excusing yourself from the conversation. Walking into a corner so you could scan the entire room. Unable to spot Logan anywhere.

Muscular arms wrapped around your waist. Almost calming the burn trickling down your nervous system. Nose finding its place in the crook of your neck, taking a deep inhale. Your hands meeting those around you, feeling the veins popping out. Smell of musk and cologne overwhelming your senses.

A silent feeling that he understood exactly what you were going through.

“Smells so good,” his gruff, low voice rang in your ear. Your head leaning back against his shoulder, eyes straining to look at him. Black eyes stared at you. Pulling you flush against him, his semi-hard cock pressed into you. Chills ran up you. Rolling your hips to grind against him. A low groan, almost a growl, vibrated against your ear.

Hands inched down closer to the place you ached most. Fingers grazing the sweet spot causing you to arch backwards slightly. Circling your mound as his eyes scanned the room.

“Everyone is in here,” you whispered, a soft moan on your tone.

“I know,” he grumbled, kissing below your ear.

Both of you silently enjoyed the feeling of your bodies pressed together for a moment. How perfectly your body melted to his front. How the smell of him sent goosebumps down your body. The sound of his breathing in your ear pooling inside you.

“Saw you over there with furrball. He not tickling your fancy tonight?” Logan’s fingers dug into your skin, a hint of jealousy on his tone.

“No,” you simply said.

“Haven’t been able to stop thinking about you,” Logan groaned into your ear, “I could smell you from my fucking room. Need to rip these clothes off and get inside you right now.”

You choked on air. Realizing Logan was having the same feelings you were. Unsatisfiable desire.

“Didn’t matter how fucking good my hand felt, wasn’t right. It wasn’t you,” he purred. His fingers danced along the line of your pants, daring to dip under your clothes. Feeling your pantyline against his fingers, the softness of the lace continuing his desire. Your hand met his, intertwining fingers with him. Looking over your shoulder to meet his gaze. Lust blown eyes stared into yours. He plotted an escape route to make sure none of your coworkers watched you slip away together. Grabbing your hand and dragging you behind him.

His touch tingled against your skin. Your sensitive body being thrown into overdrive as you headed down the hallway together. Pulling you into a stairwell and turning to face you. His entire face was red, sweat beaming down his brow. You blushed. Eyes locked together, blown pupils matching each other.

“Dunno if I can wait much longer,” Logan growled as he palmed at himself through his jeans. You fell to your knees instinctively. Tugging at his belt, pulling a deep sigh from him. Releasing his fully erect cock from its confides. It sprung up, tip swollen and leaking. A thick vein wrapped around the underside. You felt your pussy clench around nothing, your mouth salivating at the sight of him. Doed eyes stared up at him, your hand grasping around his member. Lips pressing against the tip in a kiss. Logan moaned at your touch. His fingers tangled in your hair as he guided you down on him. Choking around his girth.

“That’s it,” Logan praised as he lead you up and down on his cock. Hollowing out your cheeks to take him all the way. Tears pricked at the corner of your eyes, fighting off your urge to gag. Feeling him twitch in your mouth, knowing it would not take long for you to get him there.

Logan’s eyes squinted shut as he finished in your mouth. A grunt as he held you in place. “It’s not enough,” he moaned. Eyebrows knitted together as he looked down at you. Reaching a hand down to help you up, “I need to be inside you.”

His words melted into your core. Igniting a primal feeling in you. You wrapped your hand around Logan’s leading him up the stairs.

“My room’s closer,” you answered the question you knew he was silently asking himself. A grin painted his face as he watched your ass bounce going up the stairs.

Hurriedly typing your code to access your room. Logan’s fingers rubbed circles on your core through your clothes. You arched your back into him, feeling his still completely erect dick. “‘M gonna fuck you so good, doll,” Logan purred in your ear pulling at the button on your pants. You bit your lip finally getting the door open. Logan practically shoved you inside.

Attaching his lips to yours immediately, hands cupping both sides of your face. His tongue penetrating your mouth as your teeth clinked together. You hooked your fingers under his tank top, pulling it over his head. His hairy, muscular chest was completely drenched in sweat. His lips attached onto your neck, tongue coming out to lick a stripe up your sensitive skin. “What’s going on with us?” Logan asked against your skin.

“I’dunno,” you moaned when his teeth grazed a spot you liked, “I just want you.” He smiled at your response.

Logan pushed you onto your back on the bed. Ripping your pants and panties off you. A gasp fell from you. “You’ve got plenty more,” he growled as he kneeled at the side of your bed. Pulling you so that he was directly in front of your core. Soaking the blanket underneath you as arousal took over every sense you had. Logan chuckled as he lapped at your core, “Tastes so good.” You arched your back off the bed at the sudden contact. Pushing yourself closer into his mouth. Furrowing your brows because — GOD — he felt good, but it just was not enough to cool the fire inside you. Grinding yourself against his face trying your damndest to reach your high. Logan latched onto you like an animal devouring his last meal. Fingers digging into your thighs, bruising the soft skin there. Hooded eyes stared up at your face admiring how you scrunched up your nose and hung your mouth open. The soft moans and squeaks pouring from your mouth like music to his ears. He rolled his hips into the side of the mattress, desperate to fuck you. But more desperate to get you off first.

Your nails dug into the soft blanket below you. Riding his tongue through your orgasm. Body jolting and legs shaking. His name a scream on your lips. Logan pulled away, his face soaked in your juices. Dropping his pants to the floor. He stroked himself as he stared at your entrance. Your body still basking in the afterglow of orgasm. Logan pounced on top of you. Gently removing your top, lips finding their place on your exposed breasts. Biting through the fabric of your bra to play with your nipples. Licking and sucking the thin material. His hand pinched at the opposite one. Lips dancing up your neck, biting at your jaw.

Rolling his exposed cock into your soaked entrance. The first bit of relief you had felt all day. A shaky moan escaping you. Logan smirked above you, leaning his head back feeling how your body begged for him. Sliding his member through your slit, collecting all your wetness on him. “My pretty girl,” he praised, “I’m gonna fill you up to the goddamn hilt.”

Easing his way into you. Your walls practically pulling him in. Both of you moaned in harmony, throwing your heads back. “That’s more like it,” he cooed. Easy himself back before slamming back in. Setting himself at a brutal pace. The sound of skin smacking together filled the room. He panted above you, keeping his eyes locked on yours.

You leaned forward to catch him in a kiss, Logan’s body slouching so that your front were pressed firmly together. Curving his arms under you, holding you tight as he fucked into you. A huff of breath falling from him with each snap of hips. He held you close, lips pressed against your neck. An occasional kiss being planted there. “You take cock so well. I’m gonna fuck you stupid,” he growled against your skin.

You clawed at his back. Desperate to hold him closer. Scratching down his body, pulling a moan from him. His pace was growing sloppy as he approached his own high. Your pussy still sensitive from your own. Walls clenching when he’d hit deep inside you. “Gonna be so full of me aren’t you? Little cum slut,” Logan grunted with each of his thrusts.

Logan attached his lips back to yours desperately panting and moaning as he felt himself about to finish. Sheathing himself fully inside you as he shot his seed. The feeling of him soothed the burn you had been feeling. Relieved by how perfectly he filled you up. You felt him grin against your skin, slumping all his body weight into you momentarily.

“Could stay like this all night,” he whispered in your ear. You petted his back, kissing him on the cheek.

“Yeah?”

“That way I can already be inside you when I feel like I gotta soothe the feeling again,” Logan playfully bit at your cheek.

~

[END]

// Thank you so much for reading! I know this fic has been a long time coming so I hope it was a great read! I plan on writing quite a lot for the month of October, so if you have any requests send them my way! My next Logan fic is gonna be a Werewolf!AU //

{tags}

@toogaytofunctiondangit ~ @goodness-gracious13 ~ @figsnpassionfruits ~ @gretavankleep37 ~ @shinysam29 ~ @sunnyfranc ~ @savy-luvs-dilfs ~ @ayamenimthiriel ~ @megangovier ~ @its-in-the-woods ~ @father-of-2cats ~ @atthediscowithoutpanic ~

[burstinn]

REQUEST!

as a male!Reader, I feel very represented in your works,

could you write a male!Reader that’s really tall? Like, humongous? In hight, and body? (In the military as well)

I always see male!Readers that are so small and tiny and baby.

like, no. You get me? Just saying. Thanks!

Male! Reader with the height and body of a goddamn Monster.

(Headcanons)

Note: some mentions on top reader but I like to keep it ambiguous. So you can read it as a switch! Reader. This is a quick drabble of some Hcs

People shown: Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Price, Keegan, Graves, Nikto, König, Horangi, Logan Walker,Roach, Makarov, Krueger

-Reader is 6'5.

-Basically built like the Russian terminator guy

GHOST

- Got shocked when he first saw you, wanted to seem more intimidating than you.

-So he puffed out his chest and glared at you.. Bro wants to challenge you nahh 😭😭🙏🙏

-You would fold him tho ngl (in the ring and in bed fr fr)

-when he got comfortable with you kinda jealous his title of the big, tall intimidating man got taken away.

-When you sparred with Ghost it was a tough fight but you managed to get Ghost in a chokehold wrapping one of your tough bulging sexy ass arms around Ghost's neck.

-Never knew he wanted to be man handled so bad it was Hot he had to excuse himself and run off because he got hard.

-Starts imaging if your cock is just as big.. Spoiler alert.. It is..

SOAP

-Looks at you then Ghost mind blown that there was someone more humongous than Ghost

-Teased Ghost for awhile

-Drools over your pecs..

-He totally dreams of being crushed by you..

Or being crushed between Ghost and you.. Or both..

-Asks if he could feel your guns (Your arms..)

(IT COULD ALSO BE YOUR HUGE THROBBING CO-)

-Keeps glancing at your cock. Even though it's clothed.. I mean look at you.. Your manhood is basically too tight for your pants he can literally see your outline.

-Soap asked if he could measure your Length.. So he could see how far it could go inside of him YK?! YOU UNDERSTAND.

GAZ

-More interested than having dirty thoughts.

-Keeps asking how you got that big

-Wants to be just as strong as you

-Cutie patootie (T_T)

-Basically hangs around you to see how you work

-Even follows you so he could watch you train and spar

-Asks about your diet and if how your body looks is genetic

-inspired by you. Like a child (😭😭WHALUAAHHAH GAZZ)

PRICE

-Beneficial for him I mean he gets to have another soldier that's just as intimidating as Ghost.. Maybe even more.

-Is like a proud father

-Talks to everyone about you and how bla bla bla

-Trains with you

-He'd show you tricks and tips on how he trains and you show him tips and tricks on how you train

-Probably has a picture of you at his desk.. Beside the other pictures of his other not biological family. Aka. The whole 141..basically has a pic of everyone they all family up in 'ere

KEEGAN

-Heh.. Yknow.. Pictures..

-In the showers in lockers makes sure he's there near so he can see you in all your glory

-Probably had wet dreams about you

-Also makes sure he's there when your training. It's not like he's obvious everyone there is fuckin watching you

-What's that? You wearing a compression shirt? 🤨🤨 nuh uh in the sex chamber you go 👉

-Touching, touching, touching EVERYTHING

NIKTO

-Quiet

-What the fuck

-Silent panicking

-Jealous very jealous

-Compares himself to you, would train harder just so he can look like you (bb nooo 😭😭)

-Would watch also how you train your body so he could copy it

-You caught him once training in the middle of the night.. And he's using your technique on how you use the punching bags.. He's just getting some stuff wrong..

-When he notices you he got.. Slightly embarrassed and angry.. Panicked inside when you came closer asking him if he was using your technique in training

-You trained him properly on how you do it.

-so like now.. You train him in the middle of the night..

GRAVES

-same as price shows you off but more in an annoying way

-Hes boasting

-Would face you off against his strongest shadows no diff you still win.. Yuuuhhh

-Subtle touching like hand on shoulder, arm, head whatever.

KÖNIG

-Relieved that he has someone that looks like him.. Albeit slightly shorter.. Still!

-Got nervous meeting you first.. Forced himself to act tough to impress you I mean he is a colonel

-Makes sure to be in missions with you. Wants to see you in your most serious and intimidating

-Got intimidated himself once he saw how you act on field

-Tries to be on your good side the whole time

-One day he was watching you and just started thinking about YOU KNOWWW!!

-Blasphemous! He got red and cried to Horangi about it

HORANGI

-You know about this guy

-He's silly

-He'd read fanfics thinking it's him and you

-he'd make fanfics too, about you and him maybe adds König

-Shows it to König all proud and shit as if König isn't looking at him with absolute horror in his face when he reads what Horangi wants to do with you or you with him.

-He's delusional

-Slapped your ass and blamed it on someone else that's near him. It was König.

-Is it as veiny as your arms? A man can only dream.

-gives you a soda can and tells you to crush it in your arms.. Better yet in between your legs.

-Would then tell you like "good now do my head"

-PlEASE let him be between your thighs

LOGAN WALKER

-Rolled his eyes when he saw you

-Avoids you like the plague

-Why doesn't he like you? No idea. He a big pussy bitch is what. He sad you get more dick n pussy than him.

-Complained about you to Hesh

-He may not like you. He can't lie tho. You are good at your job so like he can't do anything about that

MAKAROV

-Sex Chamber. Now.

ROACH

-Quiet around you..

-Looks up at you like a damn bug. It's cute. He likes it when he looks up at you

-He'd jump on you and crawls around like a cockroach

-haha funi jok

-Would use your shoulder as a seat.

-If you do pushups he'd be on top of your back

ALEX KELLER

-Oh..

-Audible gulp sound (haha he's drinking your seme-)

KRUEGER

-Curses in German

-Dreaming about HAHAHAHAAHAH

-If he's fingering his gun to clean it he just.. Thinks..

-If he sees YOU finger your gun to clean it.. That's it he's done.

-He's dragging you somewhere

[astralnymphh]

Omg can I request Ellie and reader on halloween night exploring an abandoned house that’s known to be haunted. Ellie and reader are both huge fans of horror and ghosts, often exploring abandoned places and even using those apps that you can talk to ghosts with. So, you both go, but terrifying things begin to happen and you’re both freaking the fuck out equally. Bonus points if Ellie gets protective <3

ok so yeah i had to do a bit of a drabble for this one! nothing too extreme though, but i love this idea. instead of them using apps, because ellie is such a nerd, i think she would have the genuine gear for it. girl heard the words "ghost hunting" and decked out immediately in all the utilities. ellie image @/angel-gbc

“Can you tell us your name?”

This house is a chamber of disembodied sounds. Ellie discovered it on her usual walk from work, dead and moth-eaten as ever, and all she wanted to do was explore it through and through. She loves horror, and you follow her on that sentiment. The Victorian face of the house has remained gently intact—a debris-ridden ghost of its preceding self—save for a few holes, shattered windows, spots of soot from fire, and the eternal state of squalor. Eternal life of loneliness, unwantedness. Quite a big, blotchy stain on a lovely modern neighborhood full of copy and paste houses, huh?

Wrong!

Gentry used to live there, and now the gentry want it torn up. Like a sketch you feel disgust looking at.

But you admit this plainly. Watching your nerdy girlfriend psych herself to come here with every gimmick and gadget pushing on the seams of her backpack really is cute. Noticing her lip curl when there's even a second of static feedback on the spirit box, really is the cherry on top of a long weekend; you regret nothing.

For now.

She is kneeling, you are crouching. “You can use the—um, spirit box,” Ellie swallows her throat clear, adjusting the placement of the equipment. ”To talk to us.” Ridiculous excursion or not, you both felt a bit on edge. Hairs raise in anticipation.

Your pores felt susceptible. Open to the change in the air, responsive to the uncomfortable sounds of clothes and limbs shifting. Maybe your mind had made up an individual now: a pompous and rich woman. Tight in the waist from the boning of a corset, and rather busty because of it. She is the woman of this household, you believe, and she circles you with broad shoulders and steel curiosity. Not too creative for a nineteenth-century ghost.

You could feel her stare crawling all over you. Or your imagination. Shivers run up your spine regardless.

“Hey, maybe we should ask what happened to her,” you bleat, not conscious of how disomforted you look palming the back of your neck, or your words. The air has gone cold.

Ellie scales a brow at you. “Her? Shit, have you gone psychic now?” Her questioning tone drips of mock and shock, somehow simultaneously. But one widens her expression when static crackles inside the receiver, and lets a low sound through. She props up on her knees. “Could you tell us what happened to you?”

The feedback ends.

Ellie huffs a sigh of disappointment, lowering herself again. So much for going psychic. “Good job, though. Seem to 've said somethin' right,” she reveres you softly, pricking a knee up to set her fist on. Her leather jacket shines low with your flashlight.

The event left you paranoid, but all you can do is wonder if she feels the same, but stomachs a facade over it. God, does she think she needs to impress you?

Apparently so. Behind the silence, came a violent clatter of wood, or a door, none can be sure. You were the first instantiation; something between a shirek and a gasp calls your hand to cocoon at your chest, and you scatter aimlessly onto your bottom. It felt like an injection of fear. It made your blood drain. Made your breath run thick.

Fucking ghosts.

Ellie repined in a yelling whisper. “Jesus!” Her silhouette much more composed and still upright, but with a hand on her heart. Faint sounds of her scooting over, however, spurn your sight from the suspected room of activity, her acorn-brown brows pulled to a worried low. “You good?”

The gentleness of the question soothes. “Sure.” Somewhat.

Her lips quirk, and she hesitates a laugh. “Ha—yeah. No clue what the fuck that was,” she rasps as she slides up next to you, the warmth of her hand eroding the stifle in your back. She encourages you to ease into it with rubbing motions. “Way scarier than horror movies make it out to be, huh?”

You over-ease, “Definitely,” the word falling out so heavy. The charm of her actions make you forget this place even surrounds you. Material disappears. “God, my heart is racing.” You lean into your knees.

Ellie noses at your neck, tip smushing. “I got you.”

She does. You cannot see her from your cocooned vantage, but you can feel her breath, and sweet lips forming into kisses. The little noises created let you imagine instead: she is probably donning a dorky smile, and has wispy, brown, shut eyes. You picture her hand coming up to clasp your shoulder, right when it actually does.

“Good thing we aren't in an actual horror movie, though,” Ellie presses the joke into your humid neck, slowly creeping behind your ear. “That would suck.”

You bring your forehead up, smiling tauntingly. “You would probably die first since you're so distracted.”

Her mouth clicks. “Shut up.” But resumes the delicate act of pinching at your skin without shame. That, for her, is the reason the other-worldly, torturing atmosphere around you turns to something of a soothing bliss. Funnily enough, it happens during said movies. Distractions on your neck and a greedy girl hungry to eat them whole and proudly.

Though, when she finally comes to her senses, she plays knight in converse and band-shirt armor and scopes the area of interest. Nothing was there except an old broom and a rat nest. Made for a whole lot of embarrassment later on in bed, that is for damn sure. Little comments of “I'm such an idiot,” rolling off your tongue while Ellie complimented you on your sudden intuition; the house did indeed belong to a woman of affluent status. How sexy is intuition? Ellie would know.

But Ellie loves being your ghost-hunting bodyguard—and nerd—either way. Something inherent inside her says she might be made for it.

a/n: wrote this in one go so i hope it suffices enough! click here for my autumntime masterlist!

[mmogurl]

Dragonseed Chapter 2 : Coveted

18+ | 3.0k | Daemon Targaryen X Female Reader | dangerous, sex-crazed, raunchy Daemon | hyper possessive behavior, ownership, objectifying, big breast reader, non con, non consensual, P in V, lots of typical Daemon cussing, rough, forceful sex, violence, threats of violence.

Daemon has been feeling a lot better now that he's found you, his Dragonseed. No longer deprived of his carnal appetites, he's been keeping you close by ever since bringing you to work at Dragonstone. You return his generosity by satisfying his every need, although not always in the way you expect to. Daemon is a rather unpredictable man after all. I came up with the idea for this after reading page 914 in Fire and Blood. In the show, they recruit Valyrian blooded bastards to ride the unclaimed dragons from King’s Landing, but in the book there is actually a fishing village at the base of the island where Dragonstone is located. The men of House Targaryen were known to seek pleasure among the commonfolk there quite often, claiming their ‘first night’ rights and sowing ‘dragonseeds.’ Sorry it came out a little late, I've been sick again the past couple of days.. T_T

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 On AO3

Daemon wet his face in the basin, his fair skin caked with dirt and sweat from a day of training in the yard. He lathered a generous amount of milk soap into his hands and began to wash his face. He’d really prefer to take a bath and clean thoroughly, but he simply didn’t have enough time if he was going to wet his cock in you before supper.

Grinning he began to think of you as he ran a wet cloth under his armpits and then down to his groin. Standing buck arse naked in his chambers, his cock is already growing rigid in his hands at the thought of you, his little bird, his dragonseed, his secret paramour, and how hard he was going to fuck you when he got his hands on you.

Just as promised, he’d proffered you a position within the castle at Dragonstone easily enough, an assistant cook in the kitchen. Given you were so young and fit, the staff didn’t mind having another set of legs to fetch and carry things to and from the pantry. And given his high status, it wasn’t as though any of them would dare deny his request either.

The arrangement has been working out perfectly well for both of them so far. And since Rhaenyra never even bothered to join him in bed as of late, it had been painless enough to bring you into his chamber whenever he wished it. And oh how he had wished for it often, enjoying every moment of breaking in his new lover, and you were always so eager to please him. The biggest challenge was keeping you quiet so that his wife would not hear your screams of pleasure from down the way; he quite often accomplished this by covering your mouth, whether it be by his own hand or a gag of cloth to silence those heated moans.

Fuck, he was already at full mast, his manhood throbbing and twitching at just recalling the image of your full bosom bouncing beneath him as he restrained the sounds coming from your pretty little lips. Oh, how he’d love to let you go and hear every beautiful tune you might sing as he plunged his cock into your depths, but he’d rather not listen to the bitching that would ensue from Rhaenyra’s cantankerous mouth as a result.

Daemon finishes the quick job of freshening up, rinsing his body with more water from the basin and drying off before he gets dressed again. He rushes as he ties up his shirt, not wanting to miss the opportunity to have you sooner, rather than later tonight. His blood is pumping even more than usual today after some exceptionally good sparring with the other knights on the island, and he feels like he has enough seed stored up to take you at least three times, maybe even four.

He wears a knowing grin as he saunters through the halls of the keep, still half hard as he makes his way towards you, his toothsome little firebird. Daemon has a half a mind to take you wherever he finds you, loving the idea of a public fuck. Let one of the servants see him staking his claim on you, for it would make the act even more tantalizing. He wonders where he might take you, that self-satisfied smirk never leaving his countenance. Perhaps in the root cellar where the potatoes and wine were stored- or the pantry, or maybe even the larder? He finds himself further enticed by the idea of fucking you beside a full leg of mutton, after all, you are his piece of meat and he cherishes you for it.

There are a series of narrow hallways in the servants quarters, smaller rooms where they sleep, where you sleep when you are not keeping his bed warm. Daemon navigates them, slipping past other house staff that seem alarmed by his presence, but don’t offer any argument to it. The corridor opens up into the massive kitchen, a long rectangular room with an open stove in the center of one wall. Opposite the fire is a massive table that takes up much of the chamber, and women are busy preparing different elements of food to be served with dinner. Freshly cooked bread is laid out as well as several biscuits all arranged neatly on a silver tiered tray.

It all looks rather delicious, but no delicacy in the castle could compare to the taste of you. And Daemon is starving for you, ravenous with hunger for the sweet cunt between your legs, seemingly unable to get enough of it. He sees you standing at the table, your back towards him and your long silvery tresses glowing from the dancing flame of the fire-pit. He’d hoped to find you somewhere a little more private, but that doesn’t mean he can’t take you to another location to have his way with you.

As Daemon takes a step into the kitchen, he stops in his tracks, pausing in place as a consternated look appears across his furled brow and crinkled nose. A man, broad of chest and dark in his features comes to stand beside you, resting his hand on your shoulder and looking down at you with far too much affection and familiarity.

How dare that piece of shit touch you. You belong to him! He’d already stolen you away from your husband and in fact had the marriage annulled. He’d realized after talking with his maester, that as the lord of Dragonstone, he has the legal authority to deny any wedding among the peasants, and so he did. But, now some upstart ruffian from the kitchen was going to try and steal you away from him? How many men would he have to dispose of before he could be at peace with his claim on you?

It wouldn’t do at all. Daemon would need to make an example of him. Show everyone what happened when they touched what was his.

He strode up proudly, his back straight as his Valyrian Steel longsword, Dark Sister, as he approached the pair and cleared his throat, his hand clenching down on the man’s shoulder viciously. The scamp let out a startled yelp as you turned to see what was happening, a look of concern flashing across your eyes as you saw Daemon standing there. He saw the tremulous fear in your periwinkle eyes as you began to grasp the situation and sneered with a wild look of abandon in his eyes.

“What do you think you’re fucking doing?” Daemon roared out, squeezing even harder into the man’s meaty shoulder.

The fellow sunk under his grip, instantly relinquishing his hold on you as he attempted to turn and face his assailant.

“No, you can stay right there prick,” he said with a scathing venom in his tone.

The kitchen staff had all stopped what they were doing, gazing upon the scene with terror as though they knew blood was likely soon to be spilled.

“LEAVE US!” Daemon roared out loudly, the sound bouncing off the walls in echo as every single servant jumped in fright before rushing to leave the premises.

He reaches past you to pick up a chef’s knife from the table and spins the offender around to face him. “You see this knife, you fuckwit?” he asks with condescension. The man nods stupidly, wearing a veil of abject dread upon his face. “If I ever see you so much as look at her again, I’m going to make you a fucking eunuch. You understand?”

The man simply stared up at Daemon, disbelief rife in his slack jaw. He did not answer immediately and it angered the King-Consort even more.

“DO YOU FUCKING UNDERSTAND!? You are not to touch her! EVER!!” he screams and wraps his giant hand around the man’s face, slamming him back against the heavy wooden table.

“Yes! Yes, m’lord!” the whelp finally replies, falling to his knees with his hands clasped up and pleading.

Disgusted, Daemon scowls and shoves him to the side, away from him and towards the exit. “Get out of you filthy mongrel!” he spits derisively. “Before I change my mind…”

The peasant chef or whatever the fuck he was, shambled to his feet, tripping and falling twice before he made it out of the room. The silence was cumbersome as Daemon eyed you, his gaze hard and vicious as he decided how he should punish you.

“Why did you do that?” you are asking, but your voice is so far away, barely noticeable against the ringing of his furious heartbeat in his ears.

“After everything I’ve done for you?” he begins tearing into you, his words savage and his voice hateful. He cups your face in one hand, stroking your cheek almost tenderly, completely juxtapose to the angry expression on his face. A squeak of surprise escapes your lips as he then runs the dull backside of the knife along the opposite side of your face. He is pleased with the fright in your features, after all, he wants you to know how grave an offense this is.

He turns you swiftly, shoving you against the surface of the table and pushing you down with a strong hand to the middle of your back. You try to get up when he tosses the knife with a clatter across the table, but he slams you back down causing the table to groan with the weight of his force. “Stay fucking down,” he hisses with frustration as he unlaces his trousers.

“But I didn’t do anything,” you whine sorrowfully, still trying to play dumb.

“Like fucking hell you didn’t, you little whore!” he spits back, pulling his stiffened cock out from his smallclothes and letting it hang freely. “You let him touch you. I fucking saw it! Saw the way he looked at you. How he wanted you.”

Daemon begins to pull your skirts up, shoving them up and over your waist until he can see your bared cunny before him. “Did you want to fuck him, girl? Did you think he’d have a bigger cock than me? Think he could fill you to the brim and make you ache like I can?”

You’re already whimpering, a soft mewl of tears in your voice as you try to make excuses. As you try to implore him to cease in being so upset. As though anything could calm him down now that he’d seen another man’s hands upon you.

“I will never let another have you, firebird.. You are fucking mine! You belong to me!” he shouted with a gruff and spiteful voice.

He pressed the head of his cock against your wet center, pressing through without warning and sinking all the way in until he thudded roughly against your womb.

“Fuck!,” he roared as you continued to whine against the hard surface of the counter. “I need to remind you, hm?” he asked, one hand coming to your hip and pulling you back roughly onto his member as he thrust into you again and again. “That you are just a little thing, a prized cunt for me to fuck whenever I wish it?”

That actually makes your breath catch with fresh indignant cries of pain. Oh you haven’t cried like this for him since the very first time he had you and he is relishing the way you keep trying to pull your tender core away from his impending wrath. It’s not like you have anywhere to escape to though, not like you can get away from his grip, pinned between him and the table, forced to take him like a good little trollop.

“This tight little hole belongs to me, girl!” he seethed, losing himself completely in your wet heat, his fury unbridled as he pounds into you relentlessly. “Say it. Tell me what you are and who you belong to. Say it now!”

He knows you won’t like that, understand all too well how proud you are, but he has to break your spirit further if he’s going to keep you under his thumb. He has to make you realize that you’re nothing without him. You stay silent besides the sound of your wailing, your dismay at how he is taking you and how low he is trying to bring you apparent.

“Say it, you little fucking slut!” he howls, raising his hand from your hip to slap you viciously on the the round fat of your arse.

You let out an alarmed yelp, followed by a wail of outrage as you finally relent. “I’m…I-I’m your cunny to fuck, Daemon!” you squeal with the sharp sting of embarrassment clear in your tone as your tight core clamps down on him in response.

“Damn fucking right you are,” he leers over you with a primal growl of arousal and conquest. “You like it don’t you? Like being my little whore?” He slaps you on the arse once more, this time hard enough to leave a crimson handprint on your flesh. Daemon can’t help but grin at the sound you make and the way you clench down tightly on his cock each time he slaps your rear. “You really do enjoy it,” he smiles smugly, loving that his filth has this affect on you. “I wonder how much coin I could fetch for you back in the brothels at King’s Landing? I bet you’d be the biggest earner on the Street of Silk… And you’d love every moment of it wouldn’t you?”

The inner lining of your center contracts violently around his length as you peak, causing him to wince in pain as he pushes past the taut muscles. “My dirty little bird,” he pants, grinning from ear to ear as you go limp against the table and he plunges deeply into you, pounding endlessly as he chases his own release.

He spills into you with the heat and thickness of molten lava, his cockhead slamming roughly against your womb as he pulls your hips onto him firmly, pulsing seed inside of you as he groans with the pleasure of subduing you completely.

“Fucking hellls!” he bellows out, falling on top of your back with nothing but his arm to keep from crushing you, holding himself up slightly from the wooden counter.

Daemon stays inside of you, not in a rush to leave the safe and welcoming heat of your cunt. As he steadies himself on his forearm, he reaches up to brush your hair aside, wiping salty tears dotingly from your cheeks as he takes in your expression.

“Are you hurt, little bird?” he asks with a hint of regret in seeing your reddened eyes and cheeks. “Was I too rough?”

You shake your head slightly, still not making eye contact with him as your body shivers beneath him. He smooths your bright locks of hair back against your scalp, still panting as he tries to recover.

Gods, he thinks you look beautiful like this, ravaged and spent, and still impaled on his cock.

“I don’t want him,” you finally say quietly, almost pouting. “He means nothing to me.”

Daemon sighs, feeling a pang of guilt at how decisively you say that, without a hint of doubt. He withdraws his length from you, leaving a slick mess of your combined fluids as he lets your skirts fall down again. He puts his now softening cock back in his brailes and turns you around to face him.

“I know,” he says pressing a kiss against your lips, before pulling back to take a look at you. “I can’t control how I feel about you, my searing firebird,” he says more softly, peppering kisses on your cheeks in between words. “It drives me mad with rage to think of another man so much as touching you.”

There was something about fucking you that always dulled his sharpest edges. It was as though every bit of pent up rage and aggression just fell away once he spent inside you. You were the only one who could sooth his ferocity like this, quell the savage beast that he always became in your absence, or even at the thought of losing you.

“I would never leave you for another, Daemon,” you say reassuringly, brushing your soft hand along the hard line of his jaw. “I don’t want anyone else but you. You must know that by now?”

“One day, I’ll learn,” he offers with a playful little smirk as he snatches your hand in his, and brushes a gentle kiss against the back of your knuckle.

“Well, isn’t that sweet?” an all too familiar voice cuts through the tender moment.

Daemon snaps his head towards the shrill sound, knowing exactly who he’ll see, his wife Rhaenyra. He looks back at you, realizing that he’s been caught and worried about what it could mean for you. He turns back to the would be queen and offers a feigned smile of surprise.

“I’m sorry, wife,” he offers complacently as he lets your hand go and smacks you on the bottom dismissively, signaling for you to leave. “Did we make too much noise?”

You scamper off obediently, retreating into the hallway and out of sight much to his relief. He doesn’t want Rhaenyra getting a good look at you, doesn’t want her getting any ideas concerning retribution against you.

“When the staff is not allowed into the kitchen to prepare supper and we are all made to wait… Well, it certainly sparks one’s curiosity as to what is causing the delay, husband,” she says, her voice cold and distant.

“Oh, that?” he throws his hands out in a disarming gesture, showing that they are empty. “That was just some fun,” he assures her, using as much disregard as possible so Rhaenyra might feel less threatened by you. “A passing dalliance, nothing more,” he offers with a wink as he lowers his hands to his sides and walks past her out towards the dining hall.

[thesassypadawan]

Pay Attention (Knight Anakin x FemPadawanReader)

Summary: Why do council meetings have to be so boring? Why does a certain knight have to be so distracting? No wonder you’re finding it so hard to pay attention.

Warnings: 18+ (minors dni), because of all the lovely smut. Naughty thoughts, misuse of the force…and Ani’s phantom tongue. Padawan Reader is of age.

Notes: So...part 2? Anyone interested?

A little something for 🐇 Anon! It was truly a pleasure to write this! I had a lot of fun with it, cannot not emphasize that enough!  Hope you like it, bun, and to see more of your lovely requests in my inbox! 💗

‘Angel, do you really think now is the best time for this?’ The all too familiar voice came through the bond. The faintest of smiles forming on your face as you realized how loud your thoughts were.

You hadn’t meant for your mind to wander. Yes, you knew the importance and necessity of the council meetings. Of going over the details and breakdown of your latest mission. But…did it have to be so boring? And did he have to be so distracting?

Tilting your head slightly, you stole a quick glance at Anakin. Eyes gleaming a bit when you saw the way he was sitting. Leaning back, his long legs casually spread open. A bump starting to…he adjusted his robes. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

Returning to your delightful little daydream, you easily get swept up in it once more. Images of climbing into his lap, grinding yourself against his…

Suddenly, you’re startled when a phantom hand brushed your thigh; cupped your pussy. And your gazes locked once more, his blue orbs sparkling mischievously. ‘Really, then maybe I should enlighten you. Teach you a little lesson for not paying attention.’

Invisible fingers rubbed back and forth over your folds, teasing lightly at your clit. Rolling, pinching it before they slipped into your core. Pumping steadily, curling in a way that had your knees feeling a tad weak. Yet you still remained calm and collective on the surface. ‘Ani, don’t…’

‘Don’t what?’ Those digits abruptly disappeared, replaced by what felt very much like a mouth. A mouth which devoured your heat greedily, accompanied by a tongue that lapped hungrily. Forcing you to swallow down your moans, your stance becoming progressively unsteady.

Phantom hands grasped your behind firmly, holding you still. ‘Do something like this?’ While that tongue wrapped around your sensitive bud, sucking it harshly; teeth nipping at it occasionally. Only making the coil in your stomach grow tighter with each passing moment. ‘Or…’

Tongue plunged deeply, tracing out his name in your slicked hole. The urge to tug at his sandy curls, to buck your hips against his handsome face so strong. But with no one there, you had to settle for your fingers twitching uselessly at your side. Your walls fluttering frantically, pricks starting to form at the corner of your eyes. ‘Please, I…’

About to tip into sweet oblivion, all the invisible appendages vanished from your body. Leaving your hand flying to your mouth, trying to muffle the small sob that escaped from your lips. As your legs gave out and you sunk to the chamber floor. Tears streaming down your face, cunt spasming around nothing.

Immediately the meeting came to a stop. Your master calling out to, reaching for you. Instead you heard another voice above you and felt a different pair of arms haul you back to your feet. “It’s all right. I can take her back to your shared quarters. I promise to take good care of her.”

From the sounds of it, your master reluctantly agreed. Muttering words that you could barely make out in your blissed out state. The fog of pleasure setting in, clouding your brain.

All you were truly aware of was Anakin’s big hand coming to rest on your back, your arm being flung over his broad shoulders. Followed by you being led somewhere, his lips pressing to your ear. His voice low and filled with malice. “Naughty girl, cumming in front of the whole council. I think I’m going to have to teach you a second lesson today…”

You attempt to protest but are silenced…by the phantom hand squeezing your overstimulated pussy again.

Tag List: @espinathena-17, @myheartwillgoon2022, @cacti5539, @wifeofasith, @princessswifie, @kenobiskywalker16, @loverforoldermen

[fantasy-anatomy-analyst]

I hope I'm not asking too many questions... but I really love the skywhale trope and wanted to hear your thoughts on them?

i think we need more variety of whales in the sky! seems like more people go for a blue whale or humpback whale design on their sky whales, which is fine because they are very iconic whales and i love the way they look. but how about some beaked or toothed whales? flying orcas? a bowhead? i think a sky whale that looked like a bowhead whale would be just wonderful, look at this thing.

(image description: first is an underwater photo of a bowhead whale's face. the top of its mouth is very narrow while the bottom of it is enormous, like a pelican. there is a white patch at the front of its lower jaw with black spots in a line across it. the second image is a detailed illustration of the whale's whole body, comparing it to the size of an elephant and showing the shape of its fins and tail. the elephant is roughly the size of the whale's lower jaw. end description.)

i love this thing. look at that face. the humpback whale may have longer and prettier fins for that sky whale aesthetic, but the bowhead's face shape is delightful. more diversity in sky whale designs!

but of course, the more interesting thought is how exactly to make such an enormous vertebrate work as a flying animal. where is it going? what does it eat? what happens when it dies?

it would be more realistic for sky whales to be smaller, but when people think of sky whales, they want the huge size! it's a fantasy, we want the epic huge flying creatures with their strange singing calls swimming through the clouds. so i'm not going to talk about the more logical small flying whales that go around in flocks to hunt birds (though the idea of smaller flying dolphins is also delightful!) I'm going to just talk about big slow baleen sky whales, the most iconic and desired of all sky whales.

step one: how the heck are these things in the air. it's easier to explain how a dragon can fly, they have big powerful wings. how do whales fly? I think the clearest answer is that they have some form of massive internal air sac full of lifting gas. real life oceanic whales are full of blubber, but maybe sky whales don't have as much blubber and get a lot of their size from their big air sacs instead.

lifting gas is just an umbrella term for any gases that are lighter than the standard atmospheric air. this includes heated atmospheric air, hydrogen, helium, coal gas, ammonia, and methane. (according to wikipedia) and with that list I think we've found our answer. whales are actually even-toed ungulates like cows. they could easily produce a lot of methane with the right diet. they'd just keep it in their air sacs instead of releasing it as a waste material! and for the best production of methane, these sky whales should have multi-chambered stomachs.

This does mean they're probably going to eat a lot of plant matter! so imagine them swooping low to take huge mouthfuls of tree tops! terrifying! maybe their baleen is structured to scrape the leaves off the branches. Maybe they swoop down to kelp forests in the ocean and take huge mouthfuls of that as well. any critters they happen to consume in the process are just bonus snacks full of protein. they likely also consume large flocks of small birds on the go, and probably clouds of flying insects too! locust swarms, for example. watch out for the low flying whales! I think they'd be slow like blimps and mostly use their tails and fins to steer and swoop down for food. they probably also rub themselves on tree branches or mountain sides to scratch their itches. I bet they'd have a symbiosis with many bird species that pick off their parasites.

like cow manure, sky whale dung could be a great source of fertilizer. best to avoid the usual paths of migrating sky whales so you don't end up dead by having giant poop clumps fall on you, but once it's hit the ground, that's free whale manure for every farmer in the area. the lands along the paths of migrating sky whales are probably very fertile, which also serves the whales, since they'll be eating the leafy tree tops! and when a whale dies, falling to the ground, the resulting small earthquake would certainly be startling, and both the impact and the rot process would cause a lot of damage to the surrounding land.

things are not immediately fertilized when a corpse rots. it takes a while! the rot causes more harm at first and then starts to nourish the ground later.

and dead bodies tend to bloat with gases and i have already established that these whales are full of methane. a lot of it would be released at death anyway, and i don't think the whale would drop immediately. or perhaps they fly lower in their old age and just crash land and die slowly. either way, these things are huge and full of methane and then they bloat. which means they might also explode spontaneously as part of the decay process. the air for miles around is going to be so nasty. but i think if you live in sky whale territory, you're just going to have to get used to the stink, because the manure that falls on a more regular basis is also going to be so so stinky.

like real world whale falls, sky whale falls will attract absolutely every carnivorous creature in the area. anything that eats meat will follow that awful stench right to the source and start gnawing away at the thick skin. people will have the easiest time, since they have tools for this beyond just their teeth and claws. the faster the whale is cut open, the less likely there will be an explosive bloat stage, so I'm sure the culture of the region would have some superstitions about leaving a dead whale lying too long. if you don't go harvest that bounty, it will explode and you never know where those chunks will land.

and then when there's only bones, people use em for building all sorts of things! the societies that exist in the paths of sky whales would be very cool to see.

that turned into a ramble and I haven't even designed a sky whale lol. lemme doodle one real quick.

(image description: a sketch of a sky whale, which resembles the aforementioned bow whale, swooping down to munch on trees in a forest. end description.)

[shkika]

So on the topic of iterators playing video games, this:

which is a part of the set of holograms Iggy can show Moon after Rivulet powers her back up. Which based on the colors, grid, and way the tiles change, is probably Moon and Pebbles playing the iterator dominoes

(It's funny to think one of first message Moon sent to Pebbles after hundreds of cycles was essentially "Hey you wanna play games")

(I need Saint playing Dominoes with Moon now)

I'm beyond mentally ill for those two! I'm very aware of their domino shenanigans. If you pay attention to Moon's projections you can see a lot of neat stuff. Actually let's talk about that!

I think them playing together is just so.. fitting and beautiful. It's such a simple way to connect with others. Playing games is one of the easiest ways to build or rebuild friendships. Any kind of games. Something casual you can talk and share while you do. And those two have plenty to talk about.

Aside the games though..

Ramble about a bunch of her projections in Saint and Riv campaigns below! It was very fun!

Moon also remembers her various slug cat companions through the cycles.

She tells Hunter how she wishes she could remember them. And now she can. Moon can remember her savior and remember just how hard her family and peers tried to contact her, to reassure her, to show how they cared. Even this image on it's own speaks a lot. Moon couldn't have taken it, because she was offline before that key ended up in her chamber. So it was Iggy. One of the overseers she no longer has control over yet tried to help her anyway. It's sweet.

It makes it canon that Monk met her and gave her two neurons! A thoughtful and kind creature.

Pet pictures of course! Here is little demon baby.

Moon also has pictures of the local group in the distance! She never stopped trying to look after them and be a local group senior. Checking up on them in the only way she really can. I think that's sweet.

And what honestly breaks me is uh..

These. She also never stopped being Five Pebbles' administrator.. or more accurately his big sister. Checking up on how he is doing and the situation with his rot. It just makes me ache a little. It's been way too long for her to be angry anymore. She can finally talk to him and they both know it won't be for long.

Moon also has pictures of Silent Construct.

Unless I am mistaken of course. But I get the idea that she has trouble reaching him. Or she can't find him. Please correct me if I'm wrong, but I don't think Moon's overseers can’t reach Five Pebbles anymore. I don't think she'd stop being his company otherwise. Silent Construct is a place that has crumbled very badly and who knows in what state overseer tunnels are.. especially with the dense scavenger populations, it must be difficult to reach him.

Of course we also have the fallen buildings of her local group in the distance. No longer standing. Their time is over.

And! Something a little more fun is that she has a projection of the Moon. Looks to the Moon alright! How silly and sweet.

Hope you like the view Moonie.

[ranbitteeth]

hiii i love ur art and ur fics!!🫶🏽

im desperateee for a reader rails mizu w strap fic😭😭 all the smut i see are of reader bottoming and that makes me hella dysphoric sigh

so so like reader stretching mizu out, lots of whimpering, mizu being nervous, mizu feeling full and claimed, just messy subby mizu taking big strap for the first time plssss😭😭😭😭 maybe some pussy eating foreplay idk, whatever u find best and fun to write. i just need mizu to be a subby bottom its plaguing my mind😵‍💫

A/N: Your wish is my command, dearest! Hhmmm I can never really tell if you guys want a modern/cannon compliant setting— but I find my words flowing easier for the latter. If this isn’t to your liking, I can always write another one! More modern and fluffy

Tags: Possessive!Reader, GN!Reader, Reader is besties w Madame Kaji, DomTop! Reader, Jealous! Reader, Straps, Tried to be historically accurate but one can only do so much research on ancient japanese dildos, takes place sometime before Mizu hops in the boat, Goodbye Sex, Misery.

About 3.8k word count, so I’ll highlight the beginning of the actual smut in red and a star! *

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Parting Ways— To London You Go

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You despised him.

The Blue Eyed Beast of Japan. The onryo. The bastard half-breed that killed the Four Fangs and cut through the Shindo Dojo. Now that was a man that deserved a dog’s death. A humiliating, painful, wretched thing— so much so that pity would spread like disease among even the most hardened of men. A white man had no business in your country. Much less some impure dog, chasing ghosts of white men who had long since fled the island paradise. You believed this yourself, once. The village gossip and fantasies of his approaching death entertained you, excited you. You’d hear of his dishonorable death one evening and you’d think —‘good riddance’.

But no one told you just how much of a darling he was.

You remembered that night to picture clear, the image of his slumped body in the snow so clear in your eyes and memory. His face was twisted into a pained grimace, eyes screwed shut beneath the colored lenses of his glasses— he reeked of blood even in the snowstorm.

Unbeknownst to your family, you brought him inside, ordered your guards to gently place his body in your quarters. The servants made no protest when they saw your insistence on saving this stranger. The wound was seeping a crimson poison onto your floor, red and hot and stinking of blood.

The two of you were alone when his eyelids fluttered open, pained grunts and whimpered muffled by his own teeth against his bottom lip. And you saw it. Blue eyes— unnatural, wrong, and positively lovely. You’ve seen oceans and ponds and skies with less of a dazzling hue. It disgusted you, initially, as the realization of who he was suddenly and violently appeared in your mind.

You hadn’t expected someone so…normal looking.

He did not have a pig’s nose or clammy, sun-abused skin. He was not a beast, giant and ugly— but a man. An injured man, you recalled once his blood stained your palm. Stained your floor, your bed and his clothes. You distantly realized your hands were moving on their own as they undid the binds of his old kimono, and there, beneath the worn, filthy fabric were binds. Not of injury, not of a warrior— but of shame.

Alone in your chambers on a cold winter night amidst the worst storm you’ve ever seen— you knew. The blue-eyed, vicious animal that had earned all of Kyoto’s scorn was in fact a woman.

You adored her.

Your home grew to be a sanctuary to her of sorts. For a being so well despised by the nation, the comforts you provided were scarce luxuries. A bed. A roof. Some semblance of protection. You cared after her like one would a feral pet, a feat which did not go unnoticed. With a blade to your neck and blood painting her hands, she demanded your silence— a vow to never break. As if you’d risk losing such a treasure to the hands of bounty hunters of white men.

The two of you danced with hate for months.

She was a silent spirit, a brewing storm on the distant horizon. At times, you’d catch her eyes on you, other times, she’d notice you doing the same. At times, you’d reach your hand forward and caress the scars on her skin. At times, she’d allow you to– going so far as to present herself.

At times, you’d make love to her. Your depravity was no secret to anyone with ears and working eyes— but your status and wealth made you untouchable. No one but your servants would hear her cries echo from your chambers, and no one but you would see her in the throes of pleasure, head tossed back, expression screwed into one of hesitant bliss and ecstasy.

Or so you thought.

She often returns to you like a dog would weeks after leaving. Loyal, endearing and silent. Whether it was out of some misplaced desire of courtesy or a genuine attachment, you did not know. You’d tell yourself you did not care, but Man would never be born without sin. Madame Kaji, the wonderful hag, would bewitch you in letters with tales of her ladies in the delights her brothel would offer. She mentioned a certain blue-eyed beast in her company in her most previous message. Her letter was pointed, concise, and utterly enraging. By its contents, you would piece together your Mizu’s night with a princess– of all wretched things. After months of silence, alone in your palace with no one but the one and off prostitutes you’d hire and the servants you paid deftly for their loyalty, and the samurai goes off to bed and abandone a lady princess of the Tokunobu clan.

Mizu would not show her face to you until spring. By then, your anger had solidified and festered into an untamable typhoon. As your servants led her to your chambers, Mizu would be standing dead-center in the eye of your storm. Something in her was different. Stronger, yet weaker. Kinder, yet crueler.

“You show your face here again?” You ask cooly, and at least she had the decency to look ashamed, removing her hat. Like this, you could see her properly. (You’d never admit to your anger cooling, but it did.) She does not harden her voice in your presence, but it is quiet, timid, shameful. Before she could open her mouth to speak, one of your servant men approach, head bowed deeply.

“[Title and Name]”, he’d say. Your eyes glance over to him, humming as you granted permission to speak.

“There is a white man inside, bound and immobilized.” He says quickly, bowing his head deeper.

“I only wished for you to be aware.”

Your cold, steely eyes turn to fix Mizu with a chilling stare. She only looks at you head on, taking the challenge. Oh…

“Leave us.” You say, but not before giving an order to boil water over a fire. The door is smoothly slid shut, and the two of you are under the illusion of solitude once more.

“I am to depart for London soon.” Mizu says bluntly, abruptly. You couldn’t have expected anything less. You give no reaction save for a short sigh and two fingers against your temple.

“I am closer to my mission than ever before. I have an informant, I have a boat, I have names.” She talks as if to explain herself, stepping closer in light footsteps, hesitant. “I may not survive through this. I only wished to say goodbye before I leave.”

For a moment, you say nothing. Your mouth is rendered useless as your mind rushes with curses. To the world, to the white men, to Japan, to Mizu, to the hellsite that was London itself. The poisonous concoction of rage and envy that had been brewing for months was bubbling and prickling beneath your skin– only now with the addition of grief.

“This would have been much more convenient in scripture,” you say, voice like hot iron. Mizu’s surprise is tangible, eyes flickering around your features, searching for answers to her questions.

“I adore letters. You know this.” You begin to say, moving from your initial position and circling the room, retrieving several items and placing them on the large expanse of your sleeping bed. You open a box, massive with weight. Inside is parchment, pounds of it. “I collect them.”

You suddenly and harshly shove the box onto the floor, a flurry of parchment and ink spilling at your feet. Mizu seems to shrink, but refuses to cower. Gingerly, you retrieve one excerpt sent just a few months ago from Madame Kaji. You hand it to Mizu, surrounding her. You wait until you are certain she understands what she is reading before you begin to speak.

“Never took you as the brothel-dwelling type.” You say, watching as those demonic, off-putting, oh-so-lovely eyes scan the characters on paper. Your eyes stick to her lips before you remind yourself why you are angry. You imagined those lips entangled with another, and your blood goes cold.

“Nothing happened between me and the princess.” Mizu says, turning to face you. The genuine confusion in her expression is almost insulting. “She meant to kill me that night. Our duel meant nothing. Madame Kaji knows nothing that is true.”

“Not every conflict between you and a stranger is a duel and Madame Kaji is a dear friend of mine.” You reply easily. The hurt in your voice was becoming clearer with each passing syllable.

“You truly believe sailing the seas will come so easy? Do you know how many men I’ve lost in my trades on those voyages? Do you even know what awaits you in London?” You begin to demand these answers, losing the control you pride yourself in as you continue to speak. As a man and a woman, Mizu was nothing but a stupid, lost soul, wandering the earth without an object to attach to. You then gently cup her face in both hands, watching in delight as she melts into your touch.

*“Do you even know how much I’ve wanted you these past months?”

Mizu cannot answer. Her hands raise over yours, fingers brushing against your warmer ones.

“I meant no harm in my absence.” She concedes, round eyes rising to meet with yours. Just like that, the room had shifted. Your eyes darken as they raked along her face and figure, recalling what lay beneath the layers upon layers of fabric she’d use to protect herself.

“You can’t imagine…” You whine, gently undoing the bandages around her neck to expose the delectable skin that lay beneath. Untouched, unseen by all but few. You bury your nose into the crook of her neck before your tongue darts out just to taste flesh and the blood that pumped beneath. Mizu sighs, noticeably relaxing into you. Her arms move to wrap around your neck in a gentle embrace, a position you’ve grown to love and grieve for.

“Gods, how I’ve missed you…” you say, assisting Mizu’s hands and hurriedly undoing her kimono before your hands run hungrily along her skin. Scars, so many more than you remember. A different rage boiled inside of you, protective and not directed to Mizu in the slightest. The two of you move in sync of tangled limbs and warm breaths against open lips. You push her onto your cot, the rage you had felt previously spilling out in the form of hunger. You attack her neck with the teeth in your mouth, suckling and biting down on her white-man skin until cherry-red marks bloom across her neck. She whimpers, coyly craning her neck and exposing herself further– presenting herself. Begging for it. Gods.

“You were away so long I’d almost forgotten what a whore you are…” you coo, undressing her wholly, spreading her legs around either side of your hips. As a surprise to no one, you noticed the particular shininess to the downy hairs on her wet cunt, groaning softly at the sight. Her smell, her taste, her color– you’d spend innumerable nights recalling these things in exquisite detail, going so far as to seek her in other women and finding not one suitable substitution. Your hunger had been building up for months, and now here she was, just as enticing as you remember her. Her teeth nibble down on her finger as she groans into the air.

“[Reader], I haven’t..” she starts, but you shush her before she can continue. Her loyalty only endeared you to her further, and you wanted to remain somewhat angry.

“I know, puppy. You already know who you belong to, don’t you?” You murmured, practically salivating at the sight of her glistening pussy. A whine catches in her throat, allowing you to see in real time her strength and tenacity fail her beneath you. The demon man was nowhere to be found here. You tamed that spirit and contained her in your chambers. You reduced it from a spirit to a man to a moaning, wanton little tart.

“Keep your legs spread and I’ll give you what you came here for.” You order swiftly, to which she nods and complies, spreading her legs further apart. You eagerly adjust your position so that you are resting on your stomach, Mizu’s thighs on either side of your head and your mouth just above her wet cunt. With only an aroused groan as a warning, your tongue descends onto her slick folds, eagerly lapping up the wetness that coated her lovely skin. It was positively obscene, the color and taste of her, the slurping sounds across the room and her whimpering cries as months of stress and anger fell away under your tongue. The poor thing couldn’t even keep her thighs from squeezing around your head, effectively trapping you against her pussy— but it was no matter. Your tongue swirled and massaged what it could reach while the tip of your nose rutted against her clit. Slowly, surely, readily— her raspy, hoarse voice bloomed into something far sweeter, and you could feel the ice around your heart melting. This was the Mizu you knew, without the clothes and glasses and false identity. This Mizu was the one you owned.

You feel her getting close, as it was always obvious with her. You felt her thighs squeezing around your head, felt them shake and tense while her hips bucked against you and her breathing grew more desperate. You feel it, she feels it— she wants it so bad she sobs into her palm. You both know better.

You pull away with a wet, obscene sound, ignoring Mizu’s frustrated groan into her fist. Your lips and chin are wet with her taste and both of your bodies are shining with sweat.

“What? Were you close?” You ask huskily, readjusting yourself so that your body hovers over hers, your fingers pushing in and out of her gushing warmth. You start with two, massaging her insides into relaxation, molding her to your desires. She impatiently pushes her hips against you, holding you in a desperate embrace. You do not hurry, you don’t even respond as you take her lips in yours, letting her taste herself coating your tongue. It was a messy, depraved display— one that made her noticeably wetter around your fingers. Her nails claw into the fabric over your body, tugging it off.

“Take yours off too…” she says in between breaths, eyes half lidded and watery with want.

“You think you can take it already?” You ask slowly, dead serious. Mizu nods, a slow and deliberate thing. Who are you to argue now?

“It’s bigger than the other one. You sure?” You ask again, making slow, hard motions against her wet clit.

“[Reader]…” she gasps, carrying a note of exasperation, her hands now trembling against you. “Please…!”

You laugh, breathless, exhilarated. Your lips gently press against her forehead, a soft ‘wait here’ and a quick trip to the corner of your bedroom later, you retrieve it.

You commissioned this piece long before you knew Mizu would return. Your very own harigata, hard as a tortoise shell, ribbed and heavy in size and weight. You expressed your desire to be able to attach it to yourself to please your lovers and so the artist complied. You held it up with one hand, allowing Mizu to gauge at the weight and size before stuffing it with warm cotton dipped in the previously boiled water at your side. Mizu hasn’t even noticed the servant come in, far too immersed in watching you align the phallus to her soaking cunt. She feels the heat through the tortoise shell and whimpers, hips trembling before she spreads her legs further apart. The head was already pushing against her hole, oh so ready to slip inside. Just as you mean to push yourself in, Mizu makes a strangled little noise and you cease in your tracks.

“Yes?” You ask, already breathless.

“It’s big…” she says, repeating the words you said earlier. You laugh, endeared.

“Yes. You want it smaller?” You ask again, but she shakes her head no.

She licks her dried lips before she swallows. “Don’t hold back.”

Unable to control yourself, you laugh, head falling beneath your shoulders and against her collarbone. Fuck.

“Tell me when you’re ready.”

You feel her nervousness in the tension of her body. As aroused as she was, it had been some time since she’s seen you. You begin with slow, shallow thrusts to get her accustomed to the feel, not going halfway until you hear her get noticeably impatient.

“Hold on, puppy. I don’t want to hurt you…” you say, but you push yourself in deeper to quiet her whimpers. The ribbed surface rutting in and out of her wet heat had its obvious effects. Her knees shake where they are around your hips and her head arches back as she moans, voice breaking. The harigata was doing everything it was designed to do and more. Mizu was falling apart so beautifully and you weren’t even fully inside.

Slower thrusts, still quick but less shallow, and she moves her arms to wrap around your neck in a tender embrace, holding your back to keep herself present. With you.

Some time passes, and you push yourself in further. You feel some natural resistance, Mizu’s breath hitching. You pause and pull away somewhat to check for her expression, finding her eyes wet with tears dripping down flushed cheeks. Her chest is rising and falling in ragged breaths as she struggles to compose herself long enough to get a sentence out.

“No! No, don’t stop. [Reader], please don’t stop,” she whines, cradling your face. You obliged and continued, though far slower than the pace you were going before. Mizu openly whimpers at this loss before she intertwines her legs around your hips by her ankles, keeping you close.

“Could that princess give you what I can?” You say suddenly, still feeling that burst of envy possess you as you rut your hips forward with a precision that only hours of fantasies and failed attempts to recreate Mizu’s body could give you. A shuddering, wanton moan later, Mizu’s hand flies over her mouth. You take that hand by her wrist and pin it to the floor, still thrusting your hips against hers with purpose and vigor. Not all the way in, not yet. “Well?” You ask. You demand.

“N-no…no she can’t…” Mizu damn near sobs, and possession coils in your gut as you push the harigata to reach new depths. Her moans are pitched and broken, you feel and see her falling apart. The poor thing felt so full, unsure what to even make of the delicious stretch your phallus provided or the hot arousal that being beneath you gave her. To some degree, she was yours, and you both knew it.

Feeling pleased with her state as she answered, you finally and gently push yourself in entirely, making her back arch and moans echo across your chambers like they did so long ago. The harigata’s other end pushes against you, makes you groan at the pressure. You look down at her whorish expression, her inky black hair spread like a halo around her head. You see her flushed skin shining with sweat, you see the tremble in her body and think about how much longer you’ll have to go without it.

“You don’t even know what you do to me…” You begin to ramble without thinking, words flowing like water from your tongue while Mizu moans beneath you.

You can’t help the way your hips begin to plow against hers, you can’t help the strength and ferocity that possesses you when you think of the distance that will be between the two of you. When you think of who she could meet and compare you to. When you think of yourself in the future, in bed, alone, aching for a body that will not be there. You cannot control the desire in your body when your hips move in a way that can only be described as primal, and she takes it all. Mizu has always taken what you give her so well, and it wasn’t long before you were both panting each other’s name against your skins, the room now hot and stuffy and reeking of sex. Her voice reaches a certain pitch, her nails claw into the silken fabric of your kimono, and you can tell she’s closer than ever.

A warm flower of pride bloomed in your chest as you realized that one day, if all went well, you could keep her for yourself. You’d no longer spend the lonely nights in your palace inviting women of the night to give you company. You’d no longer need to bear the crushing loneliness in your bed — not when Mizu’s mission would fail and she’d realize her rightful place at your side. Safe and warm. Protected. Yours.

You imagine fucking her day and night when she returns until she’s sore and trembling, unable to stand without your assistance. The mental image and the emotions it ignites inside of you make you openly and shakily moan in sync with her, and the two of you cum in each other's embrace. She’s damn near bitten through the silk of your kimono by now, drool coating the luxurious fabric. By now, she’s hardly the image of dignified, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

You pull yourself off of her with nothing but a smooth roll of your hips and a near-violent shudder from the body beneath you. By then, it had all blurred together into a hazy memory of warm candlelight, golden skin, and warm, damp towels running along Mizu’s body and freshly fetched water poured into her waiting mouth. You only remember the rest you won for yourself that night, the two of you wrapped in a tangle of limbs and half torn fabric, warm.

But you wake up cold, and you recall why she came by in the first place.

“Would it be too burdensome to stay?” You implore, voice breaking with sleep and heartache. That worn, raggedy kimono is once again wrapped around her figure, her bandages back on. Her very aura is cold and distanced, and the weight of her decision truly settles into your skin.

“We can be happy, you know.” You say, almost pleading but with far too much pride to let it show. “I am in the mountains, far from the city. No white man could find you here,” You can’t being yourself to stand. You watch as her expression morphs from one of sorrow and pity to one of distrust, distaste, and near-resentment. Whether it is directed to you or her father, you cannot be sure.

With her back to you and her voice in the tone of a man’s, she bids you goodbye.

You find that— more than anyone— you want her quest of revenge to fail.

How you despised her.

And oh, how you missed her.

[notbadforafailedvessel]

Alcina/Neko!Reader - Part II

Part I

Now that I think about, I could have cut this part in three... because this ended up being incredibly long! But whatever, enjoy it all at once, hehe.

Your presence in Castle Dimitrescu became quite the adventure.

Alcina soon discovers that as long as she was with you, you walked as a human, but if you were wandering on your own (which she clarified you were free to do because it wouldn't be fair to keep you around with nothing to do while she worked), you preferred to turn your hands and feet into paws to move as an animal since in that way, you were nimbler. And since you still weren't familiarized with the place, it was handier.

The first challenge you encounter is with Alcina's daughters.

They aren't happy with having to share their mother's attention with you and they made it fairly obvious.

Alcina never told them you were out of limits, wanting to test your abilities.

To you, she simply said that you do whatever you need to do to protect yourself. Knowing that if you managed to reach any of them or vice versa, you wouldn't cause any real damage beyond their pride.

The girls would never admit it, but they were impressed by your agility and deep down, they enjoyed and had fun with your chases.

Their worst mischief ocurrs when they lure you towards the cellar in their fly form, where they locked you into the darkness, which wasn't really a problem to you since you could see in it, making you aware that the place is filled with monsters like the one that attacked you on your arrival.

Completely ignorant to how important that room was to the lady of the castle, you jumped from barrel to barrel carelessly, kicking many of them towards the floor as you dodged the monsters to take a proper position to attack them, only noticing the spilled liquid that came from them when you slipped in a puddle but it doesn't stops you from recovering quickly to continue with the battle.

Alcina, during a break from work, tunes your heartbeat, standing in the next second when she realizes how accelerated it is, followed by a commotion.

When she finds her daughters cackling in front of the cellar's door, Alcina knows that nothing good could come from it. Growling at them to move, she heads to the cellar.

You feel proud of yourself when the lights turn on and you can witness your achievement, having got rid of the monsters on your own. However, your smile disappears when you see how discontent Alcina looks.

Despite knowing it wasn't your fault, Alcina feels the rage taking her over after watching all the wasted product. In a few long strides she reaches you, taking you by the back of your neck like a cat, lifting you up effortlessly.

You shrink into yourself, immediately reading the mood, trying to become smaller, trembling when she turns her head to you, her features twisted in anger.

It's tempting to retaliate, but despite her wrathful fog, Alcina perceives you trembling with fear, your big eyes widened with distress, shining with unshed tears. And for the first time, such image doesn't suits her well.

She takes a deep breath with closed eyes to calm a bit, and cradles you in your arms in the next second. She waits a moment in that position, trying to give you some sense of security before setting in motion without letting you go.

The girls are waiting outside, almost expectant to see some kind of drama, but Alcina pretends nothing happened, giving them the order to clean up the mess and go find new maidens to recover the losses.

In silence, she takes you to her chamber, placing you at the end of the bed, standing on the edge. You are still tense, unsure what to expect and the silence doesn't do anything to soothe your nerves.

You fidget with your tail. "My Lady, I-"

"Quiet, pet," she silences you with a soft tone. "I can't blame you for this." She holds you by the chin so you look at her. "But after this unfortunate event, I shall make clear that the cellar is now forbidden for you and my daughters' games. I will let them know about this new rule too."

You nod earnestly. "Understood, my Lady."

For a beat she remains serious but then she chuckles. "Time to get you clean, pet." You imagine a bath is coming your way, but with a gloved finger she collects some of the bloodwine in your arm and then put it in her mouth, moaning appreciatively. The sensual act makes you blush. "I can't let this go to waste."

Alcina doesn't asks for consent, at least not verbally. She keeps your eyes on your face, reading your expressions as she undresses you slowly, giving you the time to stop her.

You are not naive to not understand her intentions but you don't even consider to put a stop to it. The most time you spend with her, the most you crave from her.

Once you are naked, she leans down to lick you clean, starting on your neck and working her way down your body, avoiding any part that would make the act sexual instead of simply intimate.

Nonetheless, it makes you tremble with desire, reason why she wraps an arm around your waist when she notices your legs wobble.

Finishing with your body, she puts her free hand on your neck, her fingers on your jaw so she can move your head as it suits her as she licks the bloodwine on your face.

She takes advantage of your gasps to slid her tongue inside your mouth, brushing yours fleetingly as she press her lips against yours.

The contact barely lasts a second but it's enough to add more impact to your already stimulated body. Lightheaded, you wonder if this was some sort of punishment even when she claimed she couldn't blame you for what happened.

Chuckling at your disarranged state, Alcina takes you in her arms once again, finally taking you to the bathroom to bathe you properly.

Alcina lived in a constant state of tenderness and flusteredness because of you.

Luckily for you, her affection for you it's stronger and she only resorts to scolding you or making clear that you can't do whatever it pleases you.

Like she will once this dinner it's over.

You had been invited to join the meals of your Lady and her daughters since the very first day and today wasn't the exception but this time you did something you have never done.

You feel sleepy, due to an exhaustive chasing with the girls that lasted several hours and the food only highlighted such state.

Mother and daughters fall into conversation, Alcina happily listening to the girls' affairs.

You get off the chair, rubbing your eyes to then turn your hands and feet, sitting on your butt with bended legs on the floor next to Alcina's chair, keeping one arm extended in front of you while licking your other paw to groom yourself.

It doesn't take long to feel Alcina's hand on your head, making you push your against her hand enthusiastically.

Her ministrations aren't helpful for your sleepy state and you can only think in the comfort she provides, the warmth that would surround you if you were closer to her.

Without thinking, you hop into her lap, fleetingly nuzzling your face in her neck before lying down in a curled up position, your purring reaching every corner of the room, completely unaware of the women's reactions.

Alcina looks down at you speechless, the hand with which she had been caressing you, hovering idly.

In other circumstances ─ more precisely, in the presence of the Lords and Mother Miranda ─ she would have reacted very different, and the outcome wouldn't have been pleasing for neither of you.

Thankfully, this time she can be reckless. But a serious conversation with you is bound to happen once you wake up.

Alcina cradles your head softly, her thumb brushing one of your ears, making her smile subtly when you smile in your sleep.

Gazing up while her hand rests protectively on the side you had been hurt months ago, she finds her daughters smiling like the cat who ate the canary, and she channels her Lady Dimitrescu persona for a second. "Not a single word." Afterwards, she clears her throat, taking a sip of her wine regally and smiles softly. "Continue, sweet Bela."

You wake up hours later, Alcina's lap no longer your resting place but you are still lying in a comfortable and soft spot, and when you open your eyes, your eyes find your Lady next to you on her bed, leaning against the headboard, reading a book.

"Have you rested well, pet?" She places the book on the nightstand and the glasses she was wearing on top of the book.

You cover your face with your paws while you stretch, then yawn. "Yes, my Lady." Though you scoot towards her with the intention to fall asleep again.

A hand on your shoulder stops you, making you pout and look up with a disgruntled expression.

"There's something I need to speak with you, pet. Something important and that can't wait."

You worry, wondering what could you have done to upset your lady, your mind already overworking with possible scenarios of your dismissal.

"Easy, pet." She shifts to her side to face you, resting on her arm. "Technically, you haven't done anything wrong. But what occurred in the dinner room can't happen again."

You frown, not understanding. If you haven't done anything wrong, why it couldn't happen again?

"At least not whenever it pleases you. You have known Mother Miranda and the other Lords. I have an image to maintain in front of them."

You still remember the day as it had happened yesterday. Your Lady had told you about them before their arrival and after finding out Mother Miranda was a scientist, you wanted to go hide in a room and come out until they were gone.

Alcina warned you to behave, and it had requiere a huge effort not to react in anyway when the leader entered the castle. You were scared and wondered why you had to be there even when Alcina explained that it was better to introduce you than trying to keep a secret from Mother Miranda.

Since your experience with scientists wasn't a good one, you were expecting to be taken away to be studied even when Alcina tried to reassured you that that wouldn't happen.

And your Lady had been right. Mother Miranda had looked at your way once, scrutinizing you up and down as if she was scanning you, capable to find out right in that moment that you weren't fitting for whatever she needed, and she had let out a snort afterwards, making a mocking comment to Alcina about what a good mother she was for getting a kitten for her daughters.

It hurt your pride but she never looked your way after that time, so only for that reason you were able to let it go.

"Do you understand, pet?" There was an edge on her tone, not appreciating having to fish for a response.

"Yes, my Lady." You gazed up. "I would never do that in front of them. I would never do anything to embarrass you," you promised, wanting to be a good thing for her and not a nuisance. "But-" you trailed off, hesitating.

"Speak your mind, pet." Her words might be slightly harsh but she was caressing your jaw with the back of her index finger softly.

"But what about when it's only you and I, my Lady, could I-?"

Alcina ponders for a moment. "Only when I'm not working and you have to wait until I allow you to do it."

You have mixed feelings about it. On one hand, you want to be selfish and take what you want whenever you want to as your nature whispers you to do and what usually gets you in troubles. On the other, you had never known about sincere care and interest for you until you meet your Lady, and you know that's something you won't risk losing.

You nod. "All right, my Lady." You smile and feel your heart fluttering when Alcina grins back at you.

"What a good pet." She buries her face in the crook of you neck, nuzzling your jaw with her head, acting as if she was a cat. She brushes your neck with her lips. "Such a good pet."

You close your eyes when you feel her teeth scraping your skin, knowing what's coming, letting out a whimper when she sinks them in.

Drinking slowly from you, savouring you, Alcina rolls over you, careful not to put all her weight on you, but enough for you to feel a satisfying pressure.

You grasp your Lady's shoulders, digging your claws for her to feel but without breaking her skin, dragging a moan from the woman.

"Mine." She grunts against your neck, making you shiver due to the vibration and the possessiveness she exuded.

Sitting on the couch in Alcina's office with your limbs and tail tucked under your body, resembling a loaf of bread, you stare at the maid who enters after knocking on the door to deliver a package until she leaves the two of you alone once again, hurrying to get out after making quick eye contact with you.

The staff was no longer very fond of you after the day you attacked one of the maids, taking away her life to rip her heart out to gift it to your Lady.

Alcina doesn't react at the box placed on her desk until hours later, once she's done with her work, when you are sleeping lightly. She smiles smugly after opening it.

"Come here, sweet pet."

Despite you are waking up, you are quick and nimble to stand up, transforming your paws to hands and feet, hurrying to your Lady's side. You wait next to her chair, looking up at her expectantly and when she pats her lap with one hand, you climb to straddle her happily.

She strokes your cheek, triggering your purring. "I have a gift for you."

You look down when she presents you the box she's holding for you to see, gasping in awe at the leather choker with the Dimitrescu crest resting proudly in the middle.

You reach out to touch it reverently with your fingertips. "For me?" you ask skeptically, not used to such gestures despite it wasn't the first time your Lady gave you something. Since your arrival, your wardrobe had increased thanks to her. But somehow you knew this was different, and much more valuable.

Alcina hums, taking the choker out of the box, leaving the latter on the desk. "I want you to have something that will always remind you of who you belong to. More importantly, to remind everyone who sets their eyes on you... who you belong to." She puts the choker in your neck, capable to close the clasp without looking at it. A pleasant sensation washing her over at the result.

You follow her hands until she's done with the task, raising your head to look at her. "I-I belong to you, my Lady?" you ask with wonder.

Alcina grins intimidatingly though you know it's not aimed to you. "Of course, pet. My pet. I got you first, you are mine." She wraps her hand around your neck, squeezing softly, not to hurt but as if she was looking to leave the choker's mark on your skin. "You are mine to look after. Mine to touch. Mine to kiss. Mine to taste. Mine to possess. Mine to do every single thing I want... isn't that right?" She wasn't asking due to uncertainty, simply because she wanted you to voice your surrender to her.

You gulp, momentarily closing your eyes as your body arches towards hers. Alcina's laugh make your ears flutter at the divine sound, and you are overjoyed when she wraps her arm around your waist, soothing your desperation to be closer when she pressed your front against hers, your hands finding her shoulders.

"Yes..." you whisper, your voice trembling but with your next words your tone is louder and firmer. "Yours, my Lady, ever only yours." Your hands slide towards her neck, your fingertips ghosting her jaw.

Alcina raises an eyebrow, almost like she was reading your mind and daring you to do what you wanted to do. And despite knowing there could be consequences for acting before your Lady approved it, you couldn't deny that you enjoyed her punishments because it usually meant keeping you at her side all day, doing things to keep her in a good mood or spend all day aroused.

Even when you were the brattiest and she resorted into something physical and you had trouble sitting comfortably, you never felt unsafe or scared because Alcina carefully keeps an eye on you to be conscious of your limits.

But so far she has never crossed a line, giving you comfort and reassurance afterwards; and you took pleasure in the soreness her hands left in your body, which you considered another way to mark you even when not always it was visible.

So you dare to hold her face in her hands, tilting her head as if you truly could have some control over her. She growls as if annoyed but she smirks before you press your lips against hers.

"I'm yours as much as you are mine, my Lady," you claim conceitedly.

Alcina doesn't denies it. She can't, knowing you are aware because you thrive on all the attention she gives you, noticing how different it is from the one she gives to others. Nonetheless, she narrows her eyes, golden eyes shining with only one purpose.

And when she grabs your ass with her free hand, squeezing it, you know the next following days, every time you sit down, you are going to be reminded of your cheekiness.

But when Alcina kisses you again, taking total control of you with her tongue and lips, you are more than clear that you wouldn't have it any other way.

[vhagarlovebot]

Hi! I absolutely adore your writing, I think you write Aemond so well!! I truly look forward to each post you make.

I just saw your post that you’d love some angst requests and I have one I’ve been sitting on for a while (its completely okay if you aren’t comfortable doing this request, I completely understand, its a pretty heavy topic).

Could you write something on Aemond losing his wife to childbirth? Like she gives birth to twins, but she lost her life in the process. How would Aemond react, how would he treat the babies post-birth?

warnings: mentions of death, grief.

you were everything to aemond targaryen. and he never was the same after losing you.

everyone pitied him. two children and no wife.

it was hard. aemond fell into a depression that lasted several months. he spent the first days locked in his chambers, his mother and sister being the ones taking care of his children.

aemond passed through all the stages of grief and didn’t let anyone help him. he tried to look though and not show how he really felt inside, but at night alone in his chambers he let everything out. his screams and cries of pain could be heard throughout the castle walls.

it took him a whole year to look at his children. they were the spitting image of you, and the first time he held them in his arms it was also the first time that, after losing you, he didn’t feel like dying. and as their big lilac eyes looked at him, he felt the exact moment his heart started beating again.

you were not physically with him but every time aemond heard them laugh or cry or raise his little arms silently asking him to pick them up, he could feel you right there by his side, as if you never left him.

he is sure you would have been an amazing mother.

aemond never truly recovered. but he made sure to tell his children all about his pretty, caring and brave mother.

[ashesandhackles]

what are your thoughts on the Harry/Dumbledore relationship?

hello! so most of my feelings about harry-dumbledore equation are captured in these metas:

A cold blooded walk to destruction

the lightning struck tower

my favourite moment of Harry and Dumbledore's relationship though is captured in the Life and Lies chapter in Deathly Hallows. I am obsessed with that chapter and obsessed with Harry's feelings in those chapters:

here are my notes from the chapter, cutting it down to Harry-Dumbledore stuff:

The chapter opens with the smallness of Harry against the vast sky, a bird's eye view shot to really highlight how vulnerable he feels. On the heels of the chapters where he sees himself and his family immortalised in statues and have their old home preserved, it feels so stark.

The throughline of connection Harry makes from "People don't like being locked up! You did it to me last summer" to Dumbledore's apparent confinement of Ariana. Unresolved abandonment issues from OOTP, Sirius grief all coming to the surface here.

I am especially struck by the image of Harry's angry shouting making blackbirds fly into the pearly sky, and spiral over him. Blackbirds are associated with mystery, secrets and are seen as messengers to netherworld - this combined with the image of pearly white sky (heavens/God) seems intentional.

Harry and Hermione throughout Dh have oppositional positions: faith vs rationalist (hallows vs horcruxes), acceptance vs fear of death, and here Rita's book lies between them, a line on the ground.

"Look at what he has asked from me!: :The image of Harry, arms flung over his head - "trying to hold in his anger" or "protect himself from the weight of his disillusionment" is the thing that stays with me from this chapter. (it is reminiscent of Snape's "you have used me! I have spied for you, lied for you, put myself in mortal danger for you" - basically, "why have you forsaken me?" moment. The chapter being set in whiteness and emptiness, reminiscent of King's Cross chapter where Harry does get his answers from Dumbledore is very striking)

Hermione, who has modified her parents memories, can confidently assert that "He loved you, I know he loved you", because her love for her parents, for Ron can also be sacrificed at the altar of greater good, even if it means doing things that would hurt them and dismiss their agency (as is with her parents). It doesn't mean she doesn't love them. Harry dropping his arms when she says this - he wants to believe it, he hopes to believe it but doesn't. But with Ron's return in Silver Doe, Harry will be on his path to be Dumbledore's man again.

From the Silver doe chapter: The discussion on Dumbledore with Ron shows the nature of faith Harry has in the moment: "Dumbledore's dead. He's definitely gone" vs in Chamber of Secrets where he says, "he will only be gone from the school when none here are loyal to him". With the faith in Cos, he was rewarded with Fawkes and Sorting Hat. Further illustration of where Harry is - Ron not thinking the Grindelwald stuff was a big deal ("he was really young") vs Harry ("he was our age").

Malfoy Manor chapters: In keeping with the faith aspect of the book, when Harry is at his most helpless- he asks the shard of mirror, where he kept thinking he is seeing Dumbledore's eye -for help. Dobby comes through.

Shell Cottage chapters: Harry understands the path Dumbledore laid out for him, but wishes he could understand Dumbledore himself. ( Ron and Harry's conversation about Voldemort - "You really understand him." "Bits of him -- I wish I understood Dumbledore as much.")

By the chapters where Harry meets Aberforth, Harry gains an understanding of Dumbledore's emotionality - "He was never free... never. The night your brother died - he took a potion that drove him mad. 'Don't hurt them-please, hurt me instead' " Harry points out how watching Aberforth and Ariana being hurt was torture to him, and emphasises his commitment to Dumbledore's cause, "Because sometimes you've got to think of the Greater Good! This is war!"

King's Cross chapter - Harry gets his answers. :)

Harry's journey to understand Dumbledore is extremely profound, and Harry's forgiveness of what Dumbledore put him through (with regards to his agency - which is Harry's main issue) comes from a very reflective, thoughtful space. Therefore, he names his second son after the two men riddled by guilt, seeking to atone for the harmful things they had done by committing to a greater cause.

[bluejaysandblackbats]

One in the Chamber

Fandom: DC Comics, Batfam, Titans, Justice League

Summary: AU where Jason dies under different circumstances, changing Bruce's life forever.

Chapters: 1/?

Characters: Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Roy Harper, Barbara Gordon, Grant Emerson, Eddie Bloomberg, Danny Chase

Relationship(s): TBA

Additional Tags: Jason Todd Dies, Bruce Wayne Hallucinates, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Bruce Wayne and Dick Grayson Have a Complicated Relationship, Bruce Wayne's POV

Chapter One: Fluorescent Lights

“Sixteen months after Ethiopia. That’s when it happened. That’s when my heart broke for the final time. But I’m not ready to talk about that… Not yet. There are other things I have to say. Other ways to remember. So, I’ll start where I feel most comfortable. 

Arguing with Jason was never the problem. We never really argued. We had discussions. That was the difference between Jason and Dick. 

“Dick and I were too stubborn to have a decent conversation, but Jason would bend until he broke if we couldn’t find common ground. I should’ve been better to him in that regard. For all his brash impulsivity, he was just a boy… A boy with a big heart and even bigger pain. We didn’t fight because he never insisted. 

“It hurts me to think that I imposed more than I yielded. Maybe that’s what he needed most. Anyway… Arguing with Jason was never the problem. It was the silence,” I whispered. 

“Mr. Wayne, you didn’t answer the question… What happened last night?” the detective questioned. Detective O’Halloran. She was a straight shooter and did everything by the book. 

I shook my head. I didn’t want to think about it. The fluorescent lights flickered and buzzed at discordant paces as I caught a glimpse of Jason in the one-way mirror. He cocked his head to the left, extending his neck forward, as he squinted sympathetically. “Bruce, answer the question… It’s not like you did anything wrong,” Jason whispered. I rubbed my eyes and when I looked at the mirror Jason disappeared. 

“Mr. Wayne?”Detective O’Halloran questioned. The lights flickered and buzzed again. It was a violent assault on my already overloaded senses. I’d never felt anything like it. I was nauseous and itchy—. The chair’s legs were uneven and squeaky. My back ached and my head pounded. A loose string inside my trousers tickled my right thigh. The room smelled like musk and vomit, the tables had a thick layer of greasy grime—. And the buzzing of those damn lights!

“Can we—? Can we—? Can you turn off some of those lights? Please… Detective, I can’t think straight. Please,” I mumbled. Sweat trickled down my temple and the center of my chest. I wanted to vomit. 

Bzz bzz bzzzzz . I covered my eyes. “Bruce… Tell her. Tell her what happened… It’s alright. You’re not hurting me. I’m not ashamed of how things played out. Tell her—.” 

“I’m sorry… I feel—. I’m going to be sick,” I groaned. She let me leave to use the restroom. I retched over the toilet, clutching my stomach. My fingers grazed fabric where the buttons should’ve been. Buttons ripped from my shirt. Pearls ripped from Mother’s neck. I heaved, tasting metal and acid as it came up through my mouth and nose. It burned. Then I remembered… They took the shirt into evidence and gave me a police-issued sweatsuit. 

“You’re losing your grip, Bruce. What is it? It’s not your fault. You can’t possibly believe—.” 

I pushed past the image of him and splashed my face. “Where does that leave us if I speak?” I whispered. 

“Oh, what a world is this when what is comely/ Envenoms him that bears it!” Jason shouted. I turned toward the door and shook my head. The memory of the previous night eluded me. 

“Mr. Wayne?” Detective O’Halloran whispered. She touched my shoulder. I turned away. “Maybe we can try again later… Call me if you remember something.” She gave me her card and the bag of our belongings. I nodded, stumbling down the hall into the cacophony of clattering, pen clicking, and phones ringing. Dick rushed in with tears in his eyes. Swollen and puffy from his cheeks to his eyebrows, 

“I saw him… Did he—?” Dick covered his mouth. “Oh god, Bruce. What happened?” Dick asked. 

I walked past him, “Don’t do it, Bruce. You lost one son. Don’t lose two,” Jason warned me. I shook my head as soon as I breathed in the outdoor air. It wasn’t fresh… But it was enough to bring me to my senses. 

“Dick, it’s all fuzzy. Are you staying the night?” I asked. Jason appeared behind Dick, giving me a thumbs-up. 

Dick nodded, wiping his tears away. “Are you alright?” Dick questioned. 

“He… He um—.” I couldn’t say it. I couldn’t remember it clearly. 

I remembered flashes of it. His eyes were wide and wavering as his fingers looped inside my buttoned shirt, gripping as hard as he could through the pain. He pulled the buttons from my shirt. I remember Jason sweating and trembling. He went white and sort of blue-ish. But he whispered—. No, he gasped it… Rasped it. “It’s okay… It’s okay,” Jason rasped. It was almost convincing. He managed to stay awake until they put him in the ambulance. I heard them talking, but it all seemed dull. Jason’s eyes shut, and they shouted but I wasn’t listening. 

“Bruce?” Dick questioned as we sat in his car. I looked up as if I’d been asleep and cradled the back of Dick’s head. 

“You were a good kid… I gave you a hard time, but—. You—.” I looked out the window at the police station. It was hot outside, and Dick turned the AC on in the car. 

“Do you remember calling me?” Dick questioned. I shook my head. I covered my face, trying to remember something concrete, something useful. “You said you needed me. You’ve never once—. I’ll stay as long as you need me.” 

“He’s not going to be home when I get there,” I said. I don’t know why I said it. 

Dick nodded solemnly. I couldn’t shake the feeling of being asleep, walking through dreams with a cloudy head stuffed with cotton. Being underwater would’ve felt more comfortable. 

Dick hit a pothole and startled me out of it for a moment as he cursed. “Sorry… I didn’t—.” I opened the bag and pulled out Jason’s cell phone. A groan rose from the pit of my stomach as I stared at the dark green leather case with his little initials burned into it. He’d carved a ‘W’ into it for Wayne. The groan rattled through my body until something wet hit my hands like rain. That’s when I realized… I was crying.

“Bruce?” Dick whimpered. I couldn’t breathe through it. I couldn’t take it. Every piece of him from that night condensed to a little plastic bag. How could I stomach that? 

It wrecked my whole body. I trembled and wheezed as tears poured from my eyes. “I know.” 

He didn’t know. Dick had no idea how painful it was. The sun rose on the horizon, but I wished it would’ve stayed dark forever. I shielded my eyes, and Dick took a pair of my sunglasses out of the glove box. I couldn’t put them on because the tears kept coming and they wouldn’t stop. They smudged the lenses blurring everything more. My head spun around and around looking for something sensible to grasp onto. Dick was reeling in his own space. In his mind, he was struggling. They’d gotten close before things—. They’d gotten close since Ethiopia. 

“When you sent him to stay with me for a little bit, he used to wake me up in the middle of the night. He’d sit at the foot of my bed on the floor and talk. I used to pretend to be irritated, but I was interested. Always,” Dick whispered. I didn’t have the heart to ask him about it. I couldn’t stop crying. “That’s how I see him. I imagine the back of his head… His silhouette in the dark. I hear his hands clasping together. I think of the distance between us, wondering if Jason was—. God, Bruce. What if he wanted me to invite him up? Why didn’t I?” Dick pulled over, and we sobbed together.

[ms0milk]

𝟕 | 𝐇𝐞𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐭

ー✧ prince!bakugou x royal guard!reader

"Caramel hathos fills your mouth when red eyes let you breathe again."

cw remember when i told you to trust me? angry bkg, angry y/n, shouting, some manhandling. repeated use of "sir" nonsexually though bkg does briefly take pleasure in your power imbalance. y/n's patience is unmatched bless her heart. civil teammates -> enemies. my favorite closing lines ive ever written 2.1k

this chapter officially concludes a hymn to black water part 1, thank you for reading this far with me! and have no fear, part 2 will begin next week :) can't take a break from this story who am i kidding it's just getting good

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She’s been terrorizing you for the better part of the evening. Doctor Chiyo Shuzenji, Takoba’s infamous: Recovery Girl. An evening meant to be spent finding clothes and dinner and Prince Bakugou’s guest chambers so that you could take up sentry outside of his room.

How could you begin to thank him? Declarations and taken knees occupy the gray space in your brain between constant kisses and ramblings about antivenom. You’re held hostage on hospital linens with thoughts of protective canonfire rage.

“And when I got back– poof! Injured Alderans keep me up all night, I leave for one blessed hour, and come back to six empty beds.”

There’s nothing you can say to appease the doctor as a plate of tea sandwiches is thrust into your lap and the kisses begin again. Your companions were moved to their permanent rooms sometime in the throne room-interim and you were just as surprised to come back to a hospital empty of their warmth as you were to hear such a commanding voice come out of such a tiny woman. Shuzenji's magic bubbles at the surface of your skin like it would be comforting if she wasn’t so agitated.

“How you even managed to stay conscious is– it’s– you’re lucky the adrenaline didn’t course the poison straight to your heart! And the prince! Summoning you from the hospital of all places–”

“My prince?” You interrupt with half a mouth full of bread.

She shakes her head, “The little Todoroki.”

“I thought I was summoned by the queen?”

“My queen is not so stupid.”

You submit to treatment again quietly and nurse the plate of food Shuzenji had rushed from the kitchens for you. Was Prince Todoroki in the crowd today? Does he look like his mother? Spiderlace has webbed across your image of the queen and naught but her thin silver hair can be seen behind it.

The doorknob jumps as the doctor pours herself into your discharge instructions, and when she thinks the champion is the one trying to sneak inside again she huffs at the opening door,

“Mr. Eijirou, if you interrupt this examination one more time–”

It felt cruel to make Kirishima watch so you told him to go find his room and something to eat after he escorted you back upstairs. You told him that you would be perfectly fine for the night. He poked his head inside every now and then when you made a particularly loud yelp at the doctor’s prodding, but left to go find dinner an hour ago. He even said goodnight and slipped your halberd inside by candlelight.

“Kirishima, really I’m–”

“Eh?”

The grunt opening the door doesn’t match the person you thought had been knocking, and not only that. Instead of Kirishima, and his big soft worry, the prince emits a cloud of vex so thick that you taste metal. He mouths confusion at the scene. 

“Perfect timing Katsuki, you’re next.” Shuzenji beckons him inside from her seat at your bed. He closes the door again wordlessly.

Chasing Prince Bakugou down a Takoban hallway is not going to make it into your daily report, partly because it’s indecent, and mostly because there’s no proper way to recall hunting a prince like game sport.

“Highness, please wait!” Chasing though, is a generous description. You’re more just walking quickly and rather close behind.

As doctor Shuzenji tried to hobble after him, images of the prince hurling diplomats flashed in vivid memory and you sat the old woman back in her seat. You wouldn’t put it past him to launch tiny old women someplace very far away indeed.

“My prince, please–”

“Please what,” Bakugou growls when you’ve finally pushed him past the shallow threshold of avoidance and squarely into confrontation. You couldn’t drown in the shoals of his patience for how very dry they are.

When he stops marching and turns to you his shoes catch sparks before his words do, “You are not my guard and certainly not my companion– leave me be or die.” And the honesty of his violence stalls your image of protection.

The chase has taken you from the hospital wing and into that wide foyer under skylights and for hours now the moon above has effortlessly outshone candles. Competing lights illuminate only white marble and a blue hallway runner, with no other decoration to fight over but the two of you standing in front of each other.

“The doctor,” you slow down fast enough to leave the prince a wide berth but still stumble over words in remembering names, “she– Shuzenji needs to finish her examination. I’m–”

“No one needs anything from me, least of all you.”

Why is he upset? When the prince snaps at you, as he has done a hundred little times over the past few days, he makes a point to swell. He thinks he’s very clever. He’ll dip his chin into the modest curve of your body and tower over you, as if you aren’t already trying as hard as you can to make him feel big.

“It’s important that the doctor sees you, sir.” One of his red eyes twitches a bit by the brow when you call him sir, and you add it to the list of things you’ve done to piss him off, “Please come with me.”

The prince settles with his hands in his pockets, “And if I don’t?” He’s on the precipice of a smirk when he continues, “Are you gonna make me?”

Did Doctor Shuzenji let you chase after him because the headache might kill her? “No,” you frown, “of course not.”

The moon is so bright through the windows above you that the candles can only throw limp shadows across the subtle bones of Bakugou’s cheeks. He doesn't up straight. His broad shoulders round in on you in a generous size difference as you attempt to avoid the eye contact he hates so much. He cocks his head. There are no clocks or bells inside the castle and still the oppressing awareness of time makes you feel as if you are running out of it; fifteen years crush you under their weight in a second. Fifteen years living together in Aldera castle and only two conversations to show for it. Three, if this game he’s playing counts as conversation.

“Go to bed then.” The prince still manages to look menacing in white linen and woolen slippers and he throws words like dung, “Go anywhere away from me.”

When he turns around to skulk back into the dark you don’t mean to say anything at all and you’re sure you don’t. You’re sure you’re only staring after him- watching his earrings catch the last of the moonlight before turning down a dark corridor.

“Why did you come back?”

Bakugou is also sure you didn’t just speak up again, but still he stalls under an archway and creaks his neck back to you all the same. Your question hangs in the stretch of white hall.

You’re hungry, you are delusionally hungry and drunk on Shuzenji’s magic because nothing under heaven, not even the end of the world, could possess you to to pick a fight with this man, and you must have been drugged or, or you’re still exhausted or wounded, anything. The prince is advancing on you now because of course he is.

He’s charging. He growls so low it’s almost a whisper, “Stand at attention.”

Bakugou doesn’t leave any space between you when he approaches this time. His hair has been knocked into every direction gravity will let it fly, but mostly it falls over menacing red eyes and beads of blood between sharp tooth and bitten lip. Jeanist really deserves a medal; even three-hundred miles away, he is right as always. Staring is an incorrigible habit of yours.

“You get concussed in that crowd?” The prince’s voice is still bitingly quiet when he thrusts a palm against your collar to test how much pressure you’ll withstand before failing his orders to stay still. Your dragonbone broach digs into your chest.

“Please excuse me.”

There’s no way to tell how short a fuse you’ve cut for yourself now, so you continue standing exactly at attention, the same way you’ve spent more hours of your life than you’ve spent sleeping. Your fingers don’t so much as twitch with a pulse while you hold them at your sides under squared shoulders. His eyes graze your cheeks.

“Aldera sent me a beaten puppy as a babysitter on mission that has taken years off my fucking life.”

“I only–”

“Only what?!” Bakugou reaches forward and snatches a bit of your nightgown skirt in his fist. You’re jerked suddenly against his chest in his anger, “You’re fucking naked! “You represented Aldera in a nightgown and now you’re chasing me down the hall with your body sketched in satin for any plum, fae, or stray cat to ogle at their shiteating leisure!”

It hasn’t quite clicked, until now. The reason why the prince hates you. He releases your skirts and clenches crackling fists at his sides, “What did I tell you about those creepy fucking eyes?”

You don’t mean to stare this time, and you’ve tried so hard, for days you’ve tried, not to look at him, but for the first time since your bloody meeting in the countryside he is finally, truly, looking at you and the eye contact conjures up nothing but static.

It didn’t even make any sense, how someone you’ve never so much as shared a meal with could feel anything strong towards you, negative or otherwise. But it was clear inside the throne room today and you were just too stupid to see anything past the blue silk cloak gathered like a gift for you in his arms.

The prince was never concerned for your safety. He is embarrassed by you.

“What did I say?” Caramel hathos fills your mouth when red eyes let you breathe again.

You glare unabashedly deer-like from the space between your bodies where ire is so thick you could grasp it. At his eyes, his lovely ash lashes and the downward quirk of a snarl. Bold of him, to call you naked in linens that barely hide his chest.

“Apologies.” And for the first time those words burn when they come out of you. Like a lie. You lower your gaze. Bow your head too.

It is the slightest consolation that Bakugou forgot, in his anger, that he’s pulled you close enough for gold to glint clearly in your periphery. His jewelry is artifact forever in the forest somewhere, so the earrings he’s wearing are yours. His mother’s– your little gold suns jerk and tremble with his temper.

If he remembered he was wearing your charity, he would shout again, but his fury has gone smug at your concession so he presses on,

“Did Jeanist not teach you to say anything else?”

Your fingers twitch at the mention of the name.

“Well? Go on, five days together and you still haven’t introduced yourself to your prince.”

Even with your eyes to the floor you can catch a sneer in the tips of his voice. Bakugou is so close that his breath pricks the skin of your bare neck.

“Put on a show.”

He doesn’t let you move away from him. When you step one foot back he comes one step forward. You take your skirts in subtle fists and bend your knees in a curtsey, and you anticipate his single huff of laughter before it even escapes him.

“Y/n. Apprentice to the Master Jeanist, Head of Royal Guard. Subject of the Alderan Queen, bound by blood and at your service, my prince.”

“Is that all?”

It goes against natural impulse not to watch the thing that is trying to kill you, closely, and it’s a struggle to keep your eyes down when the prince’s body is so close you can count each embroidered stitch of his bedclothes. Years ago, when Jeanist allowed you to work in the castle, on your own shifts without supervision, the queen would stop when her path crossed your post. She’d call your name and you would answer immediately, though eyes down like you’d been told to do. In these early days she crouched in front of you, cape, gown, armor and all, to try and take a peek at your face, or lift your head up with a finger under the chin.

“Pretty eyes, Y/n. Don’t cast them down for anyone.”

Bakugou has your chin now, in a tight hot hand. He jerks your head up hard enough to make you flinch, and gods he’s growling, rumbling like a machine, at both your lack of response and the fact that you haven’t left yet. The pair of you stare.

“Fuck off, Y/n.”

It is your every itching instinct to strike him.

“Yes, sir.”

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tagged angels ✧.* @nnubee @jctaro @nonomesupposedto @zombiewarprincess @kotarousproperty @strawberry-mentos69 @sveetnn @eirlysian @lunrai @km7474 @arayoflia @annoyingleftpinky @noomaisdone @cr33pycrawler @iced-chai-tea-latte @cathwritestragediesnotsins @tragicallygray @idimmadontgiveashit @kooromin @k1tk4tkatsuki @litiri @kiwibao @kiwifujin @mmmaackerel @sarcasticlittlebook @condy-wants-a-cookie @mysticalfridge @dududubebo @falling4fandoms @katanaski @babitchsuki @romiinlove @cherripunch26 @acid-rain27 @madmayo @bakugouswh0r3 @heart-of-haunt @zukowantshishonourback @420mitskilover <- thank u for your sweet comment! @ultracrii

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[burnwater13]

Concept art by Christian Alzmann, of Krrsantan and Boba Fett fighting in the Daimyo's sleep chamber with the bacta tank in the background. Image from The Book of Boba Fett, Season 1, Episode 3, The Streets of Mos Espa.

Din Djarin sighed. He wondered if he’d ever stop sighing. His son was so brave, so stubborn, so capable, he wondered that Grogu needed anyone to provide anything like parenting to him. Certainly he needed companionship. The kid liked telling stories and acting things out and he had endless energy for any activity that helped him do that more effectively.  For that he needed an audience and an accomplice. 

Today was no different than any other day. Grogu was obsessed with the fight between the Daimyo and Krrsantan. Santo had said it was no big deal and that he and the Daimyo were on friendly terms now. Grogu believed the Wookiee, but he didn’t believe the details that Boba Fett and Fennec Shand had shared with him about the fight. 

Grogu insisted that the two of them act it out. Djarin had explained that it would never look or feel the same way because of the obvious differences in their sizes and abilities. Grogu had said he would take it easy on his dad and that it couldn’t be easy getting older as a human. Uff. Being a human male, Djarin had fallen for that bait easily and the two of them simulated the fight as it had been described to them both. 

The bounty hunter had learned one thing very clearly. Grogu didn’t really understand what ‘simulate’ meant. Later that day, without telling Grogu, Din Djarin, Mandalorian Bounty Hunter, planned on ‘borrowing’ the Daimyo’s bacta tank. His back was killing him from Grogu’s ‘simulated’ attack as Krrsantan. Djarin should have realized that any person who could pick up a mudhorn with the Force could through a Mandalorian in full armor across a room. The kid just forgot to cushion that fall. Or so he said.

Eventually, before he had any broken bones, Djarin had insisted that Grogu take a rest. They both needed a moment to catch their breath and Djarin needed a couple of pain relief tablets, just so he could stand upright. Grogu had agreed and then asked him if maybe they should find someone else to participate in the simulation. The Mandalorian was happy about that until Grogu clarified that he needed someone who understood the fighting styles better. Uff. Kids.

Despite the implied insult, Djarin had been relieved that Grogu thought he wasn’t up to doing another simulation. He didn’t need to be put permanently out of commission because his son had this burning need to understand the fight dynamics. 

Djarin’s relief was short lived. That wasn’t really what Grogu meant. He was looking for someone to replace the himself, so he could direct the action sequences and identify how easy or hard they really were. Apparently it was Grogu’s private theory that both Krrsantan and Boba Fett were holding back because of the respect they had for each other as combatants. 

“How about the Majordomo?”

Djarin knew that suggestion was a long shot. The tall, slender Twi’lek had no fighting skills that weren’t related to speaking rapidly and running away. It would certainly be a lop sided fight, but Djarin told himself that he wouldn’t hurt Peli’s friend if he could avoid it. He liked those odds.

But Grogu didn’t agree. He said that was just as lopsided as him fighting his dad. The Majordomo didn’t stand a chance and that wasn’t fair. Djarin sighed.

“Maybe Machete has time. The rancor has been over it’s cold for at least a day.”

This was a long shot. It was why they were visiting Fett to begin with. The rancor, Ranky (Grogu had named it), had picked up some sort of chest cold. The rancor trainer had asked Fett if Grogu could come by and help him take care of the critter. It wasn’t that Grogu could just heal the huge critter, but apparently his son was the only person who the rancor would let within a meter of it, but that was close enough to have it enter a Force induced sleep, which in turn allowed Machete to care for the critter.

“Nope.”

Any other day Djarin would have been thrilled at hearing Grogu use any word in Gal Basic, but this was not any day. 

“Who?”

The Mandalorian hoped that he sounded interested rather than resigned to his fate. He was going to be lucky if Grogu didn’t just select Krrsantan for the honor of beating him to a pulp. And he did not like those odds.

“Fenne.”

“No! I am not going to fight Fennec Shand just so you can understand what none of us witnessed. I’m not…”

“Come on Mando. It’ll be fun. I promise to take it easy on you.”

Fennec had materialized out of nowhere, as was her custom, and Djarin sighed. Very deeply. He just hoped that as Grogu watched their progress he would realize when the Mandalorian lost consciousness and heal him. This is the Way?

[writersblog20]

The fight and the love

Pedro Pascal x Agent reader (ANGST) 

Summary: It would’ve been an easy mission. You were supposed to take out a group that was planning a terrorist attack but things soon, turned horribly wrong.

Warnings: SEVERE PTSD, VERY TRAUMATIC EXPERIENCE, mention of terrorism attack, being tortured for information, close to death, all the Symptoms that comes along with PTSD, quick mention of wanting to die but not by suicide, mention of team being murdered and tortured, multiple injuries etc etc, really, read with precaution and if you’re sensitive to these kind of things, I would advise you not to read this story. I have a masterlist with more uplifting and comforting storied but I wanted to try something new.

Words: 6K (oops)

I’M NOT JOKING, READ WITH PRECAUTION PLEASE! 

A/N: This could be read as platonic or romantic relationship with Pedro. Also hi, I’m sorry for being so inactive for too long, I’ve been so, so busy with school, my job, and doing the graphics on my own for a big festival so as you can imagine, I don’t have the time to write but I WON’T stop! I’ll post so now and then. Hope you all understand, much love from your homegirl.❤️

The fight and the love

It would’ve been an easy mission they said… This was your first mission as a team leader, and it wouldn’t have been a big deal but that was nothing close to the truth. One thing you were sure about, there was a leak. But that wasn’t your big concern right now. Getting out of this situation alive, was your biggest concern. You needed to get yourself and your team back home.

You were supposed to stop a terror attack, but it was a well planed trap, taking you and your team somewhere secluded to spread terror across the country. They send videos public of yourself and your team getting tortured, and it booked the news all over the news. Not that you knew all of that, but you did know that the torture sessions were getting recorded. They wanted to know something and since you were the leader of the team, they came regular back into the room you were placed in.

Your breathing was wheezy, suspectedly from a collapsed lung, you guessed. You looked at the stab wounds which were burned to stop the bleeding, so they could keep torturing you and try to get information from you. You told them lies. You knew they would kill you if you didn’t give them something, yet they would kill you if you would tell the truth. They were doubting if you were lying or not so that’s how you’re still alive, inside some sort of chamber.

You had no idea how long you were here. It felt like an eternity, but it might’ve been 2 days or 2 weeks. You had no access to sunlight, keeping you guessing if it was night or day. You stared at the cement wall in front of you and thought about Pedro and the tears fell across your face. You were sure that you were not getting out of here alive. You just wished you would’ve told him how much he means to you, hug him, tell him you loved him. That was all you could think about in here, Pedro and how the hell you were getting yourself out of this. You were scared to death that he might’ve seen a torture video of you, that might’ve been worse than the torture because you knew it would affect him on a deeper level. You didn’t want those images circling his mind. You wanted him to think about the happy memories.

That was how you didn’t give up. There were many, many moments where you just wanted to die. Wanted them to kill you and be over with this. The moments where they were waterboarding and your lungs feeling on fire, thinking every second will be your last. Every hit, every shock, every stab wound, made you just want to die but then Pedro flashes through your mind. The moments of laughter, the hugs, silly dances, serious conversations, and most importantly, the love you felt in his presence. He was and will always be, the most important person in your entire live. Pedro was your family. And the moments you were the most scared in the torture sessions, all you could think of was Pedro, thinking that every minute was going to be your last and you didn’t want to go with the feeling of being absolutely petrified. No, you wanted to think about someone you loved, Pedro.

You had no clue when your last ‘session’ was. To keep yourself sane, you talked to the wall, imagining it was Pedro. You told the wall everything you wanted to tell him. You had no idea if your team members were still alive, who weren’t or if you were the only one. The thoughts about the government handling this came to mind as well. Were they planning on rescuing you, or not. You knew that they wouldn’t negotiate with terrorist so that scared you. The thought of nobody coming to rescue you was horrible. You had to keep your mind from swirling down into a deep rabbit hole, so you refocused on the happy memories with Pedro. Like the days he brought you to Disney because he heard you’ve never been there, taking you to the beach, or you taking him back to your birth country and show him the things from your childhood. You felt helpless yet determined. It was such a rollercoaster of emotions and thoughts. You were sure that this was a form of torture as well as the physical.

The door slammed open, and you saw the terrorist for the first time without something covering their face and at that moment, you were sure you were going to die. They walked over to you, dragging you up. You tried to fight back but your entire body was in too much pain. You had no idea how many bones they broke but you were sure there would be a couple. They kicked you and you screamed as loud as you could and kicked around but they got you. You promised yourself, not to go down without putting up a fight. They dragged your body into the torture room, and you saw blood everywhere. You were sure someone just died in here. There was no way that someone could lose this much blood and still be alive.

They placed you on a table and you knew the drill. Waterboarding. You felt your heartrate pick up, the thundering against your chest, your breathing shallow and fast. You tried to beg for mercy, crying your eyes out at this point and tried to fight them.  A towel was placed over your face, and you felt water being poured over you, the air escaping you. You tried to remain as calm as possible at this point, trying to keep as much air in your lungs as you could. But as usual, they kept the towel on your face for a very long time. You started gasping for air and tried to wiggle around but they had put something sharp on your wrist, ankles, and neck, making every movement even more unbearable because of the pain. You felt yourself grow dizzy and slowly losing consciousness until you passed out.

~time skip~

You felt something sharp hit you, waking you up in an unbearable feeling of pain as you let out a blood curling scream. You tried to wiggle away but the sharp things, keeping you in place, which you could now see was barbed wire. You saw the blood seeping down and a big knife in your stomach and you were certain they had hit an organ, making you bleed intern. They took out the knife and they plunged it into your leg, making you scream again, and they repeated this for a while, screaming things in a different language. They held the knife up to your throat and made you look in the camera. And this was the moment you were sure that you were going to die in here. You saw the camera blink red. Tears streamed down your face and all you could think of was the world seeing you die. Pedro, seeing you die. You needed him to know that you loved him so that was what you said: “I love you Pedge.” The knife was tightly against your throat, and you felt hot liquid wall down from where the knife was and closed your eyes, expecting it to happen right now until there was an extremely loud sound coming from outside.

So loud that the whole building shook. The camera fell, just like the terrorists besides you. everything was covered in dust, making it hard to see. Your ears were buzzing, and people were screaming around you, giving out orders and from pain. There was still a knife in your leg, and you knew that this was your only chance to escape so you took the knife out of your leg and tried to cover your scream. You started slicing in the wires and luckily, you were loose. You saw that they left the door open, and you tried to stand up but fell from the pain and the loss of blood.

You saw people in uniforms coming in, a green laser from their guns. “Found her!” a man screamed and helped you up. Another soldier helping you as well, leading you out of the room and building. “We’re going to get you out of here chief.” They said and it was an odd feeling of relieve, yet horror. People were screaming all around you, your vision blurry and you fell again. They picked you up and carried you outside. The sun was out, shining brightly on your face. It was hot and still dusty. You looked around you and saw a couple of buildings around you, probably base camp of some sorts. There was a lot of sand, and the sun was already burning you. They gave you water since you were very dehydrated. That was the moment it occurred to you that they didn’t give you food. It might be strange not to think about it earlier but with all the pain and torture going around, that was the last thing on your mind.

They brought you to the rescue helicopter and immediately a doctor looked at your wounds. The way her nose scrunched up and her eyebrows knitted together, didn’t give you the best feeling in the world, even though it was no surprise to you how badly you were injured. Yes, they’ve rescued you out of the building but there was still an immediate danger for your life. The moment the helicopter raised up, a feeling of safety washed over you. A colleague who went along on the mission, held your hand. You wanted to ask where everyone was, but you couldn’t talk, you didn’t know why. She was trying to get every wound stable, her hands grabbing stuff around her as you slipped in and out of consciousness.

“Hey kiddo, come on, stay awake for me, okay?” your colleague begged you. “We’re going to get you home, okay? But you’ve got to stay awake for me.” you squeezed his hand and the doctor spoke up: “This is bad. It’s not looking good right now. Can we go faster?” she asked worried. You just tried to stay focused on your colleague until you felt everything grow very heavy, including your eyelids. You heard people begging around you to stay away and you tried to, but the feeling of your heavy eyelids won.

~

“Put her on the stretcher!” your colleague shouted. The helicopter was landed on the roof of the hospital, the other doctors already waiting for you. The doctor from the helicopter, staying by your side and keeping the bags of blood transfusion and painkillers, and the IV. Some soldiers put pressure on the wounds inflicted on you. They wheeled you in and Pedro was walking back and forth, biting his nails, hair ruffled, baggy eyes from lack of sleep and crying. His eyes went big as they wheeled you in the hospital and tried to get you as fast to surgery as possible. The doctor from the helicopter, telling the doctors her founding’s. Pedro was by your side in a second and was shocked to see the state that you were in. The tears streamed down his face as he looked at your bloody, bruised body that was covered by wires, bags, and Iv’s. Your colleagues took Pedro away and informed him while the rolled you immediately into surgery.

~time skip~

Your head was pounding, ears still buzzing, and your body started to tense up from anxiety and adrenaline. You heard a familiar beeping sound, speeding up, and you tried to open your eyes. The pain rushed back to you and the room was too light. You whimpered from the pain and felt that somebody was holding your hand. “baby girl?” you heard a very familiar voice, whisper. His voice cracked as he asked you. You tried to blink a few times, but everything looked blurry. You saw Pedro bow a bit down over you. You squeezed his hand in response, your voice still very painful and croaky. You heard someone walk in with heels. Everything in you was now on high alert. You knew you were safe and probably in a hospital yet, your body didn’t know that and was still completely in survival modes.  You kept blinking until the blur wasn’t so obvious anymore.

You saw Pedro with tears pooling in his eyes and it broke your heart into a million pieces. This was the man that kept you going so long, that made you want to keep on fighting, keeping you alive, sane, and not so alone. You felt everything crumble down as you let the tears out. A loud sob escaped your throat, hurting you in the process as you tried to reach your arms around him but to no avail. Luckily, Pedro knew what you wanted and very carefully placed his arms around you, and hang a bit over your body, making it look like he was shielding you from every dangerous thing in the world. You hid your face in the crook of his neck and completely broke down as his comforting smell hit your nose, giving you the feeling of safety back.

“Oh, baby girl.” He tried to calm you down, but he was way too emotional as well and cried. You just both held each other, and you tensed every muscle that you had around him, to feel him close even though it pained you. “Thank you. Thank you so much.” That were the first words you told him. He didn’t know why you thanked him at that time, but you were sure to tell him why later. More sobs escaped you and you felt something move the iv in your arm, making you panicked again. Your body jolted from panic as you tried to move Pedro away and look at what was happening. Even though your rational thoughts knew it was a doctor, you just didn’t trust it. You saw a kind face looking at you and before you could do anything she spoke up: “Don’t worry, I’m just readjusting your iv and put some extra medication in against the pain and to keep you relaxed.”

You had a rollercoaster of emotions floating through you right now. From panic, to feeling safe, to feeling scared and in danger to emptiness again. Pedro saw the swirl of emotions in your eyes just like the doctor. Pedro’s heart broke even more, seeing you like this. “Do you remember what happened?” The doctor asked softly and now you finally took in your surroundings. You were in a hospital room, next to a window. It was dark out and you could see lights from the skyscrapers. The lights in the room dimmed but since they kept you in darkness for God knows how long, it obviously pained your eyes,

“How long was I in there?” that was all you needed to know. The doctor looked down with a pained expression just like Pedro. “A week and a half. They found you through some details in the video that was shown public.” You frowned “Public?” you felt your heartbeat go up and the doctor and Pedro looked at the monitor. “Videos of you, and your team being tortured and killed, got leaked to the public…..” and once again, it felt like your world was crashing down on you. “Everyone has seen it?” You asked and your voice cracked. Pedro sniffled and nodded as he looked down for a second before making eye contact. You saw it. you could see it in his eyes, clear as day, that he had seen the things and you felt your heart break once again.  “I’m so sorry, baby girl.” You weren’t sure why he was apologizing but nodded, tears escaping.

‘How long have I been here?” you decided to ask and change the subject. “2 days or so. We were expecting for you to be asleep for a week, given your injuries.” She told you honest. “What are my injuries exactly?” you looked at her, kind of afraid of her answer. It became dead silent in the room as she handed you the file. You frowned a bit and opened your file. You saw a whole goddamn list of injuries. Broken ribs, 24 stab wounds, collapsed lung, internal bleeding from your abdomen, jaw broken on multiple places, broken eye socket, multiple stiches needed for the cuttings, broken wrist, broken ankle, water found in lungs, badly bruised neck, and the list just went on and on.

You felt tears pooling in your eyes and handed the doctor her files back, not wanting to read more for now. “There will be a psychologist seeing you tomorrow. To adjust ehh.. your mental health…” you nodded and felt a brick on your heart. You just wanted to forget about it all and never talk about it again, but you knew. You knew damn well. You already had PTSD but now…. yeah, you knew the drill, didn’t make it any easier though.

“Thank you.” you tried to steady your voice but failed. She nodded “Can I do something else for you? How is the pain now and do you maybe want to eat or drink something?” she asked you and you didn’t know. Everything was just so intense right now that even answering the easiest questions was too hard. “Do you want some water sweetheart?” Pedro crouched down on eyesight, figuring out what kind of mental state you were in and tried to make it easier for you. Pedro’s voice was so soft and kind that it brought you to tears again. You nodded about drinking some water. “I’ll give you something stronger for the pain.” She decided for herself, and you were glad she did.

You couldn’t look away from Pedro. It felt unreal to see him again. For, apparently, a week and a half you were so sure that you were going to die and never see him again. But you were here and so was he. The doctor walked away, and Pedro found it hard to make eye contact with you. To see the pain in your eyes was too much for him to handle. You brushed your bruise knuckles over the back of his hand. “Please look at me.” You begged him as your voice broke. He slowly looked up, tears in his eyes as well. “Please stay with me. I’m scared.” You told him through tears as you confessed and that was what broke him the most, hearing you, the person he knew that wasn’t afraid of anything, tell him that you were scared. Tears fell onto his cheeks.

He intertwined your fingers, and you cupped his cheek to softly wipe the tears of his cheek. “Can you please hold me?” you sniffled, having enough of being strong right now. You just wanted to be held so badly. He nodded “Of course, mi Chica.” He sniffled and kissed your forehead as he stood up, letting his lips linger on your forehead. Your hands carefully held his wrist that ever so carefully cupped your cheek. Pedro sniffled again and let his forehead rest against yours. “I was so afraid to lose you.” Pedro confessed as his tears escaped his eyes again. “I was afraid that I was never going to see you again, tell you how much I love you, hold you.” he kept confessing and somehow you felt relieved yet pained that he felt the same thing as you did. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m here now.” you sniffled through your own tears. He nodded and took a deep breath to control himself.

You tried to scoop over so Pedro could lay down next to you, but the pain was too much. “Lie still sweetheart, I don’t want you to be in more pain as it is.” You whimpered slightly. You didn’t care about the pain, you wanted Pedro to cuddle you, and the determination was visible on your eyes as he chuckled softly, but it also told him in how much of desperation you were for him right now.

The doctor walked back in and softly knocked, exposing her presence as not to scare you. You and Pedro looked at her and as if she figured out what you wanted, she smiled kindly at you. “We could put an extra bed besides you, if you’d like…” she told the two of you with a smile. You nodded and tried to give her a genuine smile back but failed. She gave you a bottle of water with a straw in and put the things besides you to your other side. Pedro helped her with the bed and placed it tightly against yours. Pedro took his shoes off and climbed in next to you as the doctor put some stronger medication into your iv. “There you go, you should be able to sleep a bit now. Get some rest, you and your body need it right now. And if there is anything, anything at all, just press this button and I’m here within seconds.” You could cry at how kind she was right now. It probably was because of the week and a half full of torture and hate that it felt unnatural that someone was kind. It just felt off.

You whispered a small thank you and looked at her with tears in your eyes. She gave you an apologetic smile back and nodded, walking out of the room. You looked at Pedro who held a close eye on you, as suspected. He carefully placed his arm underneath your head so you could rest on it. “I’ll hold you on one condition.” It felt like he was strict right now “If it pains you, you tell me, okay? and we figure another way out, alright baby girl?” He asked you and looked deeply into your eyes so the message would be clear. You nodded and let him hold you. He laid down on his side, his other arm around you and you let your head rest against his shoulder. “Thank you.” you whispered out. You felt the meds kicking in like a brick. It got you relaxed and sleepy and it worked like a charm. Your eyes heavy again and you fell asleep in no time just not for long. Night terrors are a common symptom of PTSD and even though you were safe, it wasn’t over.

“baby girl wake up! Sweetheart! please wake up…..” Pedro tried to wake you up from a bad night terror. The doctor and nurses ran into the room. “Miss…. Miss, you’re dreaming wake up.” but nothing worked so they decided to doze up your medication until you shot up straight in bed, completely out of breath, still in a panic. You were in the hospital, but the flashbacks got you back into the chamber and in everyone around you, you saw those terrorists. You screamed on the top of your lungs and tried to fight them off. Pedro was shocked in horror at how bad this was.  I mean, of course he knew it was bad, he saw the videos. But the moment you didn’t recognize Pedro, he knew you needed help. Tears floating in his eyes again when a nurse ran out of the room. Even though, you are very badly injured, your need to survival was stronger, making you inhumanly strong from the adrenaline right now.

Pedro walked up to you while the nurses tried to hold you down, so you wouldn’t tear up the stitches. Pedro was determined to bring you back and cupped your cheeks. Your eyes were extremely big, pupils blown as he looked desperately in your eyes. “Baby girl, it’s me, Pedro. Remember? Your safe, I won’t let anything bad happen to you, look at me Chiquita. Come on, I know you’re in there. please, I need you.” his voice begging you more with each word. You slowly stopped struggling and Pedro could see it in your eyes that you were back. Your heartrate slowly going down, while you tried to catch your breath and looked around you in shock of what you just did. Tears forming in your eyes. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry… I eh…..” you were shocked in horror at how bad it was, I mean, it’s to be suspected but still, how could you forget your Pedge? They all took a deep breath that you were back. Pedro softly petted over your hair in order to calm you down more and letting you know that he is there. “I’m sorry…” you looked teary eyed at the nurses and doctors.

“It’s okay, don’t worry. It’s not a little thing you went through. IT completely understandable. But thank you for apologizing even though you don’t have to.” You felt tears running over your cheeks as the realization hit you that you were going to have to deal with a lot of things. You just started crying, feeling so extremely defeated that for a moment, you whished they just would’ve killed you and that thought made you even cry more because on the other hand you were happy to be alive and with Pedro, but it was all so much and confusing with all these emotions running through your body.

You tried to collect your head when a nurse spoke up: “Would you like to maybe watch a movie or something light? It might help you fall asleep a bit more peaceful and distract you.” The other nurses exchanged looks as if it was a good idea and to be honest, you would like that. You tried to give her a smile and nodded “That might be a good idea. I would like that.” She smiled and nodded.

She gave you the tv remote and told you that Netflix was available. The nurses still gave you the medication to calm you down if you would have another flashback. Pedro noticed your need for distraction right now and he gave you all the room and time to share your story with him, whenever you are ready. He was just relieved that he had you back in his arms again.

Pedro was glued to your side, and you didn’t mind it one bit, you needed him to be as close as possible. You both watched the Golden Girls. Pedro told you about the show once and you decided to watch a couple of episodes with him and you loved it.  Even though you tried to focus on the tv but you kept going back to that moment which you thought would be your last. “I thought I would never see you again.” You whispered as your head was resting on his chest in a way that didn’t hurt you. You felt Pedro shift and you knew he was looking at you, so you looked up.

You felt your eyes filled up with tears again for the millionth time that day. “I thought I was going to die there and all I could think about was you.” Pedro felt his heart break and tears escaped his eyes but didn’t say something. He just let you speak, knowing you weren’t finished telling him. “All I could think of that week and a half was you. You kept me going when I wanted to die. They put me in a chamber for so long in complete darkness and I would talk to the wall, pretending I was talking to you. It kept me somehow sane.” Pedro listened intently to every word you told him. He was absolutely gob smacked to what you confessed and how much he meant to you.

“When they would…. When they did those things to me… I wanted nothing more than to die right on the spot, hoping they would have mercy and take me out of my misery but… when those thoughts came, so did you, it was like you pushed those thoughts away and when they would…. torture me… all I thought was about happy memories of us. Of us in Disneyland, dancing in the livingroom, sneaking into a theater to see the reaction of people who watched you on the big screen. Every happy memory I could think of, was with you. You kept me going, kept me fighting to survive.”

Pedro couldn’t help but cry from the moving words you confessed to him. “I thought… I was never going to see you again. I wanted to tell you so many things, hug you and see you for the last time. I was so sure of it to never see you again, and so convinced I was going to die there and already accepting my faith, that… that it feels weird to see you again. Like it all isn’t real and I’m just imagining it, like I’m going crazy, and I’ve finally lost it in there that I’m imagining all of this. I don’t know what’s real or not anymore….” Pedro was silently letting his tears fall until you confessed that you weren’t sure if this was real. That part brought determination to him.

“Mi corazon…. This is real, I’m real. You are safe but I understand that you don’t feel that way… that it messes with your head. But I know you trust me, and let me tell you, this is real. He carefully took your hand in his and placed it on his chest where his heart is. “You feel that? That’s real. All of this is real. I’m lost for words to your story… it… I …. I love you too. I’m so sorry that this happened, really, I can’t express it enough. And I love you too, I really do. When you’re fully recovered, we are going to make so many more happy memories. So much more that it won’t leave room for the bad” he told you and his digit softly tapping against your head. “We’ll get through this, together. I won’t leave your side and when you can get out of here, please stay at my house for a while. I’ll take care of you, love you through the good and the bad and won’t ever leave you. Come here sweetheart, your safe now.” he told you and let you cry it out while he comforted you through it.

“I would like that, to stay a while with you after this.” you talked through the sniffles.

~time skip~

It’s been over 3 months and you moved in with Pedro for a while. You had trauma therapy at least 3 times in the week and the aftermath of the event was unbelievable heavy. Panic attacks, night terrors, flashbacks, dissociation. Your triggers were enormous. Like the shower already triggered you from the waterboarding. Not to forget that your body was still recovering. It was tough but Pedro kept true to his word, not that you thought differently but still. He had soooo much patience and helped you through every flashback, every night terror, every panic attack, he was there, and you could count on him.

You’ve been given a while from work to readjust. But you still had court sittings. You had to testify against some of the terrorists that were still alive and in captivity. They had all the recordings, inclusive the last video, just before you got rescued. They haven’t shown that tape to the public but now would be the first time and obviously, Pedro was there to support you. They played the tape, and you couldn’t look. You couldn’t look at the screen, couldn’t look at the people in court, couldn’t look at Pedro because you knew, what you though were, your last words.

Every now and then your curiosity got the best of you and stole a glance from Pedro who stared in disbelieve at the screen, tears going over his cheek as he shook his head. The moment you looked in the camera, you looked up at the screen. God you looked bad, like really bad in that video that you are shocked yourself that you even made it out alive. That was how bad you looked like.

You looked down again and heard through the speakers in the court room: “I love you Pedge.” Pedro’s eyes went wide and immediately landed on you, the pool of tears visible in his eyes as he tried to give you a loving smile. Which you tried to return but in both of your expressions, there was too much pain. The people in the room went silent and the judge as well, everyone was taken aback by the horrors that played out on the screen.

~time skip~

Pedro opened the door of his car for you and helped you in. both of you were still lost for words after the video being played. Not only that, but you also saw how the people of your team die. It was a very hard day. The terrorist won’t be seeing the daylight ever in their life and you couldn’t care less about it right now. so many emotions going through you. “Why don’t we pick up some ice cream for at home?” Pedro softly asked you, both of you still not mentioned about what you said in the video. “Yeah, sure.” You told him and there was a thick silence again that you both felt.  You looked over at Pedro who had tears in his eyes as he tried to concentrate on the way. You knew that this hit him very hard. You placed your hand gently on his and he looked over at you, trying to push his tears away. “I told you, I was thinking about you all the time. I just… I thought I was going to die and… and I didn’t want to go out without saying that I loved you. I needed you to know that.” Pedro parked on the side of the road and sniffled. He got out of the car without saying anything and it almost had sent you into a complete panic attack. He opened your door and you looked at him, afraid of what was to come.

He wrapped his arms tightly around you as he sat on his knees on the ground and held you tightly while some sobs escaped his own throat. His face was against your stomach, and you went with your fingers through his hair and held him tightly with your other arm. When he calmed down after a while, he sniffled. “I’m sorry. It’s different to really see it on video. I wanted to attack that guy so bad because of what eh has done to you. it made me furious and to hear you say, what you thought were your last moments. I just… it hit me that… that you wanted your last words….” He couldn’t finish it, but you knew what he meant. To direct your last words to him.

You cupped his cheeks and gave him for the first time in a very, very long time a genuine smile. He started laughing through his tears and put his arms around you in a big hug. “I love you too and there won’t be a day gone by without me saying that to you. I love you to the moon and back.” he kissed your head multiple times. “Like you said, we’ll get through this together.” Pedro smiled and held you tightly. “So how about that ice cream, and cuddles when we get home? We could watch a movie if you’d like?” he told you enthusiastic which made you smile, genuinely again. It hyped Pedro even more up to finally see that beautiful smile after 3 months. “That sounds very nice Pedge. I’d like that.” You told him and he drove off with a smile as he held your hand.