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alexiroflife · 1 year ago

Text

jjk men reactions & aftercare when you use your safeword…

headcanons list

MDNI, highly suggestive content, smut themes, overstimulation, mentions of discomfort/pain, spanking (suguru), etc.

gojo, geto, nanami, choso, toji, sukuna

-> all i could think of when writing safe words was this from that one rick & morty episode please help

satoru gojo:

satoru gojo, before his relationship with you, was a full-fletched virgin.

while people close to him like suguru, before he left jujutsu tech, or shoko would have been able to tell anyone this fact after having known him for so long and so well, in satoru's later years, he finds that everyone assumes he has a rather promiscuous past before settling down with you.

he understands. quite frankly, it doesn't surprise him at all. he's a flirty personality with a sickenly gorgeous face, with the confidence and arrogance of a well-seasoned slut. he does not exude the energy of a person who went twenty-four years of his life without having sex with anyone. he had received and given oral maybe a few times in his early twenties, but he had never gone beyond that.

you're his first at twenty-four and you're his one and only from then one.

despite his lack of physical experience, satoru, unsurprisingly, is incredibly skilled with the use of his body. there's truly nothing that gojo can not do perfectly. he's seen enough, studied the physical reactions you have to him even when you're just speaking, knows you enough to treat you well without having had to fuck a million people beforehand.

and because you are satoru's one and only, he fucking worships you. he gets drunk off of you. he goes insane for you every single time the two of you are together intimately. while his stamina is incredibly high, his desperation proceeds him and his ability to maintain control is drastically lacking whenever he's got your pretty legs quivering over his head as his tongue licks greedy stripes over your puffy clit.

satoru is spoiled. he gets what he wants and does what he wants when he wants it, and he absolutely expects to get exactly what he wants from you when the two of you are in bed, which is to make you as much of a mess for him as he is for you. he wants you shaking, he wants you begging, he wants you crying for more as you struggle to handle just how good he makes you feel, and every single time, he succeeds.

the thought alone of pleasing you renders him dizzy, and his mind often wanders in the middle of meetings when he's supposed to be focused on the course schedule for the first years over the upcoming next few months. satoru is completely and utterly whipped for you, and with his greedy, mindless desire to hear you moaning for him into the early hours of the morning, he can tend to get a little out of hand.

satoru has never made you feel any less than heavenly, any less than adored, any less than cherished. he satisfies you in indescribable ways, and you're admittedly as head over heels for him as he is for you. he's soft, but then he's wild, whiny, relentless, sloppy, yet always so damn good. he pushes you to just the right limits, drawing out physical reactions you hadn't even known to be possible before him, and talking you through it all. though he's always on the brink of going too far, he never has.

so that is why you are close to panicking now that your legs and your throbbing, overstimulated pussy have gone numb with a rather unfamiliar tingling sensation.

you don't even think you can see anymore. you're long past an acceptable point of lack of functionality, and you can't even think. you hear satoru's voice murmuring as it always does, babbling on in his far-gone state as he pulls you closer for another round. the two of you started this when the sun was out, midday, and now, the sky is pitch black and the clock reads almost midnight, not that you can even tell.

you can feel satoru everywhere, hands flying to any patch of skin he can possibly find, yet the sensation is detached from you. you take a few seconds before realizing that you can hardly breathe, and your body is so spent you can barely move.

satoru, above you, is gone. exceedingly pussy drunk, having came more times than he could count in your mouth, on your stomach, on your back, inside your cunt, and yet he still seeks more. it's like his mind and body are on autopilot, searching for you blindly without any indication of how far he has gone or when he should stop. he's just as fucked out in the brain as you, but the only difference is that he somehow has more energy to spare. his dick is somehow still jumping to life, and you suddenly remember that this is satoru gojo you're talking about.

on the battlefield and in bed, he's a monster, unlike any other.

"c'mere, pretty, just-just one more, gotta feel you," he rambles, panting heavily as he tugs you closer and roams his crystal blue eyes over your trembling body. his sense of logic is skewed, the flags are not registering. he only sees you, and he is eager. he's so in love, so intoxicated by you, he's lost his damn mind.

"y'so gorgeous for me, baby, such a good pretty girl. my good pretty girl. love this pretty girl's pussy, so-so good for me. so good."

and there he goes, on and on about how he wants you, what you do to him, how perfect you are, and you can't even hear it. your ears are ringing. where the hell even are you?

satoru's moving to caress over your body, detailing the softness of your soaked skin beneath his palms before his hands meet your soaked cunt again. he's prying at your weak thighs, ghosting his fingers over your clit hungrily, and the second you feel the tip of his finger so much as graze your bundle of nerves, you're momentarily revived. you're gasping and pushing him away, crawling back.

satoru watches you, brows drawing together. he goes to reach for you again, but then you hastily breathe out. "purple! purple, purple, purple," you wail, body twitching as you curl in on yourself.

the moment your safeword falls on satoru's ears, he's snapping out of it. his blown pupils suddenly shrink and he reconnects with the world around him, with you, the way your heart races, the way you can hardly speak, the way you can't even lift your head from the pillow.

he looks down at the drenched state of your sheets, then back up at you, shaking, and he's finally back.

"baby," he coaxes in concern, crawling up to meet you. you don't even open your eyes when he hovers over you. you simply squirm, murmuring nonsense as chills rack you and your feet kick out. you're absolutely done. "fuck, baby. hey, you there with me? (y/n)?" he cups his hand over your hot cheek, worried eyes taking in the sight of you. he's never seen you like this before, and it's jarring. how long have you even been like this? did he seriously not notice that you had been spent for a while?

your hands go to push at his chest, but he stops you gently, holding your wrist and hushing you. "it's okay, princess, you're okay. you're alright... fuck, baby, look at you. you can't even understand me, can you?"

as expected, you don't show any indication that you can hear him. instead, your body slowly melts back into the sheets as though registering the shift in satoru's mannerisms and tone. you relax, slumping, and satoru almost thinks you've passed out.

"uh uh. don't pass out on me, pretty. come on," he urges you gently, patting your cheek. you groan and stir, at least showing him that you are still conscious. "okay, that's good, baby. that's a good girl, come here."

he pulls you into his arms, enveloping you in his safe embrace. your cheek falls against his bare pectoral and you hum, nuzzling into him as he holds your head close, petting over your hair and watching you carefully. satoru struggles to gather himself as well as he holds you, breathing heavily and twitching against your body whilst bringing himself back to reality.

you continue to rub your face against him, and he looks down at you, brows knitted together. fuck, he feels awful. he hadn't meant to push you this far.

"(y/n)?" he calls your name again, a rather rare occurrence. you take a moment to hum drowsily after a few minutes have passed. "can you hear what i'm saying?"

"...mhm," you hum again brokenly.

"yeah? you can?"

this time you only nod, and he sighs. "are you okay, pretty? are you hurt?"

"mm-mm."

"you sure?"

"y-yeah, tor..."

you don't even finish his name as you sink further into him. satoru kisses your cheek, then your temple. "okay, i get it now. i did too much? i went too far?"

"mhm," you whimper, and his arms tighten around you.

"i'm sorry. i'm so sorry, i should've known better," he apologizes profusely. "i got carried away, i wasn't even thinking. i wasn't even there myself- but that's no excuse. i'm sorry. stay with me, pretty."

slowly, your arms slide to wrap around your boyfriend's neck, and he melts like sap into you, cooing gently and showering you with kisses. he can feel your rapid heartbeat against his chest, your soft pants fanning on his cheek, your abdomen tightening and releasing with your shivers.

"you're so sensitive. i got you good, huh?" he observes. "i'll go easier, next time, pretty. okay? you did so good for me. you always do such a good job. just keep those pretty eyes closed and rest. i'll clean you up in a bit."

you nod meekly once more, cuddling impossibly further into him. you doze to the sound of his assurances, of his tender voices telling you that you’re safe, that satoru’s got you, that he’s so proud of you. he lets you rest before he has to wake you again to help you get ready for bed and to clean you properly.

he loves you so much. so so much, and despite him going overboard, his heart swells with relief at the fact that you feel comfortable enough to tell him to stop.

suguru geto: suguru is truly a kind and loving man. he's gentle and meticulous in the way he cares for you. he always makes sure that you have everything you need and that you're cared for the way you deserve to be cared for. and in bed, he's almost teasing with the way he loves you. he's sweet, keeping his searing lips to your ear as he floods your brain with declarations of future promises, of making you happy, of practically laying down his life if it means listening to you call his name over and over.

he's got a mouth on him, one full of filthy affections, and he gets you off on the sultry sweetness of his sugary tone constantly. he'll be knuckles deep inside you, kissing your cheek almost innocently as he murmurs seductively to you his devotions.

"you squeeze me so nice, sweet girl. you look so fucking beautiful like this. that's right, angel. feel it. feel my fingers stretching you out so good. fuck, i could finger you like this every day for the rest of my life. would you like that, angel? hmmm?"

he always makes sure you respond, as well. he's pulling orgasm after orgasm from you and urging you to speak while doing so, no matter how far gone you are. he's not satisfied until your angelic little voice is breathing out to answer him unsteadily, your words warming his heart and hardening his dick without fail.

nevertheless, despite suguru's generosity, he has the tendency to be so mean when he's agitated.

suguru has a pretty terrible attitude, and though it's not often on display when he is irritated, particularly by something you say, he's an entirely different beast.

his honeyed tone still remains when he punishes you, yet it's laced around far less pretty words. he teases, mocks, judges, and at times, it's enough to make you cry or second guess yourself if you were to hear him go on like this in any other setting.

suguru's presence is incredibly domineering aside from his normally gentle demeanor. when push comes to shove, he is still a man capable of murder, a man harboring the hatred of an entire species, and a man who manages to uphold his connections and his legacy through his cult by means of manipulation.

suguru is nice, yes, but he's also kind of a bully.

the dark-haired man doesn't find himself taking out his irritations on you often. he only deems it necessary to do so when his irritation is inspired by you, and while he has attitude issues, you mirror his tenfold... and he does not tolerate you doing so one bit.

now, you know suguru very well and are very accustomed to how he handles you when he's pissed off, but tonight, he's showing no mercy.

he's had you splayed over his lap for what feels like forever, your ass pointed upward and your wrists bound before you as you muffle your whimpers as best as you possibly can. you don't even remember what you had said or done to get suguru so worked up, but you know that your ass is stinging horribly and is likely marked up with several red angry hand prints, yet suguru is seemingly still far from finished with you.

you've tried crawling away multiple times, but his strong hands always pull you right back, keeping your back arched and your ass up for his access.

"don't cry now, angel," he says, voice dark as his hands roam over your ass. you tense as he gathers a handful of the fat into his fingers, squeezing tightly before raising his hand to smack down hard again with no warning. you lurch forward with a sob, your legs trembling harshly. "you weren't crying earlier when you were running your mouth so much, were you?"

"sugu," you hiccup, desperate for a break. "p-please..."

"nuh uh. you can't 'sugu' you're way out of this one," geto says, eyes heavy and dark as they look over the marks he has left behind. "after all, you're the one who wanted this."

"n-no," you deny pitifully.

"no?" he bites down hard on his teeth as he smacks you again, watching your plump flesh jiggle with the motion. he groans under his breath, sliding his hands over you again as you cry. "really? i could have sworn by the way you were talking to me, this was the only outcome you were looking for."

you can hardly hold yourself up anymore. your face falls flat on the bed as your body shakes with your laments. you don't know what number of spanks you're even on. was there ever a set count to begin with?

you try to reach a hand back, but you forget that your wrists are tied before you, leaving you with absolutely no defenses and suguru with the upper hand.

suguru roughly grabs a handful of your hair and pulls you up, looking over your tear-stained face with a quirked brow. "what's the matter? can't handle your punishment?" he taunts, eying you intensely.

you sniffle, eyes unfocused. your lips part to answer him, but he beats you to it, landing two more smacks to your backside, and you're seeing stars. the strike of his hand is starting to burn, stinging agonizingly over your skin. your ass is buzzing, throbbing with its own bruise-induced heartbeat.

you feel more tears break past your eyes and your brows scrunch up. "that won't do, angel," suguru says. "i must've gone too soft on you."

who goes to land one last strike, and you can't take it anymore. you're kicking away as best as you can, panting with your cries as your voice goes ragged.

"rose!!" you call, completely beyond yourself. "please, no more, please- i'm sorry! rose!"

suguru freezes, his hardened facade washing away. he breaks past the air of anger that he's been submerged in and sees the way you cry as he holds you up, your pearly tears dribbling past your chin as you continue to beg him to have mercy on you under your trembling breath.

"shit," he curses, slowly releasing your hair and easing your head back down. "i hear you, angel. loud and clear."

he hastily undoes your bind and tosses it to the side, setting your wrists free. you quiver, sinking over his lap. suguru catches a glimpse of the marks he has left once more, watching the blooming of purples and reds spread over your poor bum. he hadn't realize how bad it looked before, but he sees now just how hard he's been hitting you.

"fuck, angel, i'm sorry. i'm sorry."

his hand runs over the small of your back and he ducks down to the side of your face, which is still concealed as you cry. his brows curl and his heart lurches forward, his touch upon you now soft and delicate.

"(y/n)?"

"why'd y'spank me so hard," he hears you question into the blankets, speaking unstably amid your tears. suguru's heart drops then and there, and his entire demeanor shifts upon seeing what he's done to you.

"oh, sweet girl, i'm so fucking sorry. i'm sorry," he whispers to you soothingly, attempting to calm you. you're a wreck over his lap, shaking violently. "i don't know what happened. i don't know why i did that. i'm sorry, baby. i'm sorry."

he hisses as his thumb ghosts over his handprints, and even that has you jumping suddenly. "okay, i won't touch. i'm- shit, i really marked you up. that looks like it hurts so bad, angel, i'm sorry. i was being a dick. i don't know what came over me."

suguru slowly helps you up when you don't reply to him, and once he's got you slightly upright, you fall into his chest as you sob. his arms wrap over your upper and lower back securely, face burrowing into your shoulder. his long hair tickles your bare skin gently, his comforting scent consuming you, and you are reminded of your boyfriend's sympathy once more.

"a-are you really t-that mad?" you hiccup into his shoulder, dampening his skin with your tears.

"no," he tells you. "no, i'm not mad anymore. that wasn't- i just got carried away," he repeats. "you're okay, angel. you're perfect. i let my emotions get in the way too much."

"fe-lt like you hated me..."

"what?" he frowns, pulling back to look you in the eye. your red eyes meet his sorrowfully, and you sniff, searching for the kindness of those hazel eyes you so adore. you rediscover it the moment you look at him. "hate you? (y/n), no. don't say that. i could never hate you. i love you," he brushes your tears from your eyes and you whimper. "you're my sweet girl. my perfect angel. i would never," he says gravely. "i can't believe i made you feel that way."

"you spank hard," you pout, and he kisses your puffy lips, smoothing his hand over you hair and stroking your neck.

"i see that now. i'm sorry. i won't do that again," he kisses you again. "i'm sorry. i hate to see you cry like this. this isn't how i should make you cry."

suguru looks around and locates the bottle of water he left on the dresser prior. he leans forward, careful as to not agitate you, and grabs hold of it. "here," he unscrews the bottle around your waist and lifts it to your lips. "hydrate, baby. you need it."

you pucker your lips around the bottle as he eases it upward, easing the fluid into your mouth as you drink. "that's my girl."

once you're done, he leans down to put the bottle on the floor and slowly guides you off of him and onto your stomach after kissing your lips once more.

"what do you want, angel? ice? you want me to massage it?" he asks you, craning down by your ear as you press your cheek to the pillow and look at him tiredly.

"both," you say softly.

"yes ma'am. i'll be right back."

suguru spends the rest of the night treating you, rolling his cool hands ever so carefully over your bruises, cupping your ass, and massaging out the stings to increase blood flow. your brows arch and you moan into the pillow as he does so.

"i know, i know," he murmurs. "promise, i'll make it better. try to calm down for me."

he's kissing softly over the handprints, whispering endless apologies before applying ice every now and then. eventually, the pain begins to calm and subside as your senses dull, and suguru rubs circles over your waist.

"sugu?" you mutter after an extended period of silence.

the dark-haired man ducks down, gazing over your now serene features. "hm?"

he sees the corners of your lips pull upward subtly as you close your eyes. "you're mean, you know that?"

he puff of amused air blows through his nose as he nods, stroking your temple. "i know. i'm the meanest, angel. i'm sorry."

kento nanami:

kento nanami is a man among men, a perfect gentleman, the blueprint for all partners. he loves you dearly, and he takes any chance he can to show you or remind you of this love he harbors for you.

nanami treats you as though you are the only womann to grace this planet, and in many ways, that is exactly how he sees you. he dotes on you and makes you feel as though you are a queen among peasants, sending you flowers nearly every day, writing you sweet letters, cooking you dinner, keeping his hand to your waist to guide you close to him when you walk around in public, cooking your meals, and buying you every possible thing you could ever even mention wanting.

he's an angel. he's your dream man, and he's all yours and you're all his.

when kento is intimate with you, he likes to take his time. he likes to drag out every second of his fingers touching you and his lips ghosting over your body. he likes to admire you, every single part down to the last detail. he is never in any rush, and why should he be? why would he want this to end? you're his lovely woman, and you deserve every second of pleasure he has to offer you.

he handles you so lovingly, holding your gaze and intertwining his fingers with yours as he strokes into you deeply, a haze of raw passion capturing you both as you breathe into each other, fall into one another's longing gazes, and intertwine like pretty strokes of paint mixing into one another on a canvas.

he's enamored by you, kissing over your neck and listening to your pulse against his skin as he makes love to you, keeping you close, flush to him. tendrils of soft blonde hair sprinkle over your forehead as his lips meet yours, bodies rocking passionately. you can feel the fondness in the way he presses into you, the way he holds you, and you feel so feather light as your head floats into the clouds and heaven encaptures you in the bliss of his hold.

nanami is afraid of hurting you when you have sex. he tends to always handle you with care solely because of this fear of his, and while he has his moments of letting just a little bit more loose, of handling you just a little bit rougher, of pushing in just a little bit deeper, he doesn't want to overwhelm you to the point where you are in pain.

you, of course, spur him on and encourage him to let go. you don't believe that nanami would ever hurt you, or at least do so to the point of irreversible damage, but he still gives you a safe word to use for any time you may feel more sensitive than normal or need a break or simply want him to stop because he's making you uncomfortable. you never thought that you would need such a thing with him, but you had unfortunately been wrong.

it isn't even nanami's fault, per say. you like to push yourself more than nanami really approves, and while you can handle it just fine, you find a moment when you overestimate yourself.

you've been riding kento at his desk chair, your hands gripping his shoulders as his hands clutch your hips. his head is tossed back, normally neatly combed haired tousled messily, and his chocolate eyes drink you in through heavy lids. a chorus of hushed moans leave your lips as you work yourself down onto him, rolling your hips, grinding over him, and sliding up and down swiftly.

the blonde's lashes flutter as he watches you, a sight so beautiful and a sensation so purely exquisite that he can not bear to look away.

you lean down to him, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing your chest to his unbuttoned dress shirt. his hands run over your back on instinct, eyes falling closed as he pants into your shoulder.

"ken," you pur into his ear. "fuck up into me, please..."

and normally kento would think on it more, but hell, you just feel too good for him to deny such a polite request. he obliges, gripping your hips and holding you down, planting his feet securely into the carpet and sheathing his throbbing length upward and into your welcoming, gummy walls.

"oh, sweetheart," he groans, wrapping his arms around your waist and burrowing his nose into the crook of your neck with furrowed brows. "you feel so perfect like this."

"fuckkk, ken," you whine.

after a while, you push yourself down at a faster pace, attempting to catch up with his strokes and speed him up. kento grunts, holding you tighter and understanding the message as he thrusts up into you faster.

soon, the sound of his hips slapping into your ass lifts into the air throughout his home office, and you're whining into him, rutting yourself down with him.

nanami's groaning into you, pace a bit wilder as he mimics your behavior. he's got a hand slid up your neck and into your hair as the other holds your waist down, no longer allowing you to move the way you had before as his thrusts proceed.

you're squelching around him, moaning prettily and growing louder by the second until nanami shifts slightly, sitting up straighter and holding you still as he fucks up into you.

he's rougher, as you had physically and verbally requested of him. while this isn't the first time he's handled you a bit harder, it's the first time you feel the weight of his tip bruise your insides with his position, his speed, and his access.

you gasp, breath hitching in your throat as pleasure rather quickly transitions into discomfort, and you squirm. you want to take it, you love taking him so much, but the longer he pulls you further into the harsh push of his dick into your cervix, the more painful it begins to feel.

you grip into nanami's hair, squeezing the muscles in your face as you breathe out heavily. it only takes a few more thrusts that slam into you way too harshly before you tap against his back.

"ah- ken, ken, hold on- mm- yellow!"

nanami stops even before the word leaves your mouth, pulling you off of him with haste as you wince. he sets you back down on his thighs, and you can feel his length twitching against your ass as he looks over you with pinched brows.

he looks so pretty, still thoroughly consumed with lust, captured by worry for your well-being. his hands remain on your waist as he looks over you sternly. "tell me where sweetheart. how did i hurt you?"

you already feel bad as your walls clench around nothing, rather disappointed in yourself. you tremble slightly, looking down. "sorry- i just... it just started hurting for a sec."

"i was going too roughly?" he asks you for clarification, warm brown hues of care looking up at you. he looks torn, devastated that he had broken the one promise he had made to himself about harming you in such a vulnerable state.

"it wasn't you, ken, i didn't think it would hurt that much," you say dejectedly, a tad woozy from the way you had just been handled. it wasn't as though you didn't enjoy it, your body had just reacted differently and reminded you of your limits with taking ken in such a way.

"of course it was me, honey, i'm not sure what you mean," he says softly, his thumb smoothing over your spine. "i'm so sorry, sweetheart. i never meant to hurt you. i must have allowed myself to get too worked up."

"it's okay, ken," you shush him, taking his face gently in your hands. he gazes at you, frustrated with himself but eyes so full of love for you, the darkness in his eyes still swimming about. "you always tell me to reel it in, but you just make me feel so good. i always want more of you. i pushed a little too hard."

"honey," nanami begins, taking one of your wrists in his veiny hand and turning to press a kiss to your palm. "i still would never blame you in this situation. i know better. i apologize sincerely. how badly does it hurt?"

"...it's not that bad, ken. it was just a sting."

"it doesn't matter," he shakes his head. "i think that's enough intimacy for today. i can not stand the thought of hurting you any further."

you give him a sad look. "but it wasn't all your fault, ken," you frown.

nanami smiles at you softly and leans in to press a long, gentle kiss to your lips. he pulls away from you and meets your gorgeous eyes. "i love you, sweetheart," he declares so warmly, so honestly and you return the sentiment without a second thought, heart thrumming.

"i love you more."

"let me run a bath for you, okay? then after, we can relax and order some food. i can give you a nice massage, too. how does that sound?"

"...can i massage you too?"

nanami laughs slightly. "darling, i'm not the one who got hurt."

"i don't care. i wanna help you relax too. you always have so much tension."

"i'm relaxed any time i'm with you. and you certainly were helping me relax a few minutes ago. perhaps, a bit too much."

you pout and he kisses you again, his soft lips warm and enticing against your own. "ken," you murmur against his lips as he draws himself back, rubbing his palm over your spine and sliding your shirt back down from its scrunched state.

"yes, my love?"

"i still want you."

he gives you a firm, warning look. "(y/n), i said that's enough. you need to rest a bit. you just said that you have the tendency to push yourself when it comes to sex."

"i know, but," you push your bottom lip out and lean back up against his chest, arms draping over his shoulders again. "it doesn't have to be sex. you can just... eat me out."

you feel nanami's chest stutter against you as he breathes out heavily. "you're playing a dangerous game, you know that?"

"please?" you beg, dragging your nose against his neck. "you're always gentle. and it feels so good... all you have to do is hold me down, i won't get hurt in any way with your tongue on me, i swear."

a groan rumbles in nanami's chest and you can feel his dick twitch back to life against you. you smile lazily, leaning back to look him in the eye. "pleaseee?"

"only if you behave," he accepts, raising his brows. "i'm serious. i will go the pace i want to go, and you'll take it. slowly."

you bite the inside of your lip and nod, a pretty smile gracing your face. nanami hums, curving his hand over the back of your head and bringing you to his lips again.

"what am i going to do with you?"

choso kamo:

your brown-haired boyfriend is new to a plethora of human emotions and habits, yet sex is one thing he adjusts to rather eagerly and skillfully thanks to your influence.

choso is ever so inquisitive, seeking to explore every part of you so that he can ingrain your body and its incredible functions into his mind, so he can adapt, so he can improve, and you can confidently say that he proceeds to do so with each passing moment he studies, loves, and cares for you.

choso gets pretty flustered by you easily. you introduce him to not only a world of your love and affection, but a world of vulnerability, pleasure, and sensual exploration. he learns fast, the goal of making you happy driving him forward into picking up on the things you show him incredibly swiftly.

he's so handsy with you, unsure of how to properly convey all that you make him feel so he frequently clobbers you, enveloping you, consuming you in a needy daze, repetitively chanting about how he loves you and how beautiful you are, and how amazing you make him feel, how he never wants to let you go. he's pathetically obsessed with you, longing for your touch at any given moment yet he always allows you to initiate your intimacy first before he completely drowns in you. he's still working on managing himself around you as well as his own urges to refrain from acting out of line, being too forward, or misreading situations. he wants to be perfect for you, and never in your relationship does choso ever want to misstep or misread what you want.

getting him to vocalize when and how he wants you is one thing, but once you've started, sending him a text about how you need him, or running your hand down his thigh a little closer to his crotch underneath the table, or giving him that certain look in your eye that can only mean one thing, then he's completely and utterly unraveling at the very second you give him the green light.

choso's sloppy and uncoordinated but it doesn't matter and he doesn't care because all he's after is you, and when he has you, his brain goes numb, his hands, his dick, his everything are acting with a mind of their own.

the two of you are hot gasps and nasty sloppy noises as the purple eyed man above you pleads for you, though you're right there, aching for more until he can't even breathe.

you think choso is so beautiful like this, lips parted and brows curled as though he's going to cry from the euphoria. his brown hair falls over his shoulders and sticks to his forehead, free from the updo that he always wears, and for someone who can manipulate the blood in his body, he is beet red in the face as he watches the way he disappears into you.

choso would never hurt you. not in a million years. he would die before he hurt you, standing in front of oncoming traffic and sacrificing himself for the sake of your life.

therefore, when his crooked fingers are rocketing into your sopping walls as you cream over and over on his three digits, his lips slurping over your clit with your fingers lace into his hair and tugging at his scalp, he doesn't expect you to stop him.

he's only thinking of how you taste so sweet on his tongue, how your gorgeous pussy makes that squelching noise the deeper he thrusts his fingers in and out of you, and god, the way his dick twitches every time you pull at his hair- he can hardly tell if you're trying to yank him away or to pull him closer at this point, but he's not even thinking about that. he's not thinking at all.

he’s groaning and humming into you, whining in between breaths about how he just can’t get enough, but his fingers are beginning to thrust too fast, too far inside of your walls.

his noises shift between guttural, deep growls and shaky, heavy-pitched breaths. though you love every sound, you begin to feel yourself rejecting the feeling as it grows far too swift, too hard, too overpowering.

"c-cho," you whimper, your thighs moving to push you away, but he keeps you down with his free forearm to your lower abdomen. "baby, i c-can't- ah!"

his noises rise over your pleads and he doesn't stop, and you can feel an uncomfortable knot building in your stomach in addition to the ache inside you. you wince, the overlapping sensations proving to be way too much at once.

your hand pushes at his forehead rather harshly. "cho-! ngh- pinaepple!"

choso's brows twitch as he processes what you just said, his mind still not completely comprehending, but after a second or two, he rips himself away as though he's burned you.

panic swirls in his violet eyes, his saliva and your slick shining over his chin up to his nose. he looks up at you over your thighs, but you don't see because you're leaning your head back in relief and breathing heavily.

"did you just say your safeword?" he asks in a rush, ensuring that he has registered your words properly.

you nod stiffly, furrowing your brows. "y-yeah, m'sorry," you breathe. "i couldn't take anymore."

choso's pupils shrink as though you've just told him that all life is ending as you know it. his heart hammers through his chest, and he instantly peels away from your now cold sex to swipe his fingers on the bed, ridding himself of any reminder that he has pushed you too much.

he crawls up to see your face, caging his arms over you. his muscles tense as he looks over your expression, brows knitted and eyes glossy. you eventually open your eyes again, having sensed his presence over you.

"(y/n), i'm sorry," he apologizes so earnestly like it's the very last thing he'll ever say to you. he's suddenly deadly serious, firm, and ashamed of himself. "you've never used our word before. i... i didn't realize what i was doing to you."

"cho," you say his name softly. he tilts his head further down to you, his brows curling in sadness. "it's okay, baby. stuff like this happens."

"what do you mean?" he frowns, hand coming over your cheek the moment yours lifts to hold his. "this has never happened to us before. i'm not sure how i let it, either."

"i just mean in general," you clarify softly. you can feel your eyes growing heavier and your speech slurring. choso notices as well, keeping his hand on your face so that you remain with him, cognizant of his gaze and his touch.

"this has happened to you before?" he asks, slightly horrified and simultaneously agitated by the very idea. "when? with who?"

"baby, i'm trying to tell you mistakes happen," you laugh softly. "no, this hasn't happened to me before, but i'm saying we have a safe word for a reason for when these things do happen."

"oh," he murmurs. "but i never wanted you to actually have to use it..."

"well, how else would we learn about each other if we didn't run into things like this?" you smile warmly at him. choso's face blooms with further heat, humming to himself as he looks at you.

"tell me."

"tell you what?"

"tell me exactly what it was that i did. i'll be sure not to make the same mistake twice. i swear. i'm so sorry for hurting you," he declares, determined.

"it wasn't that bad, love," you assure him.

"i still want to know. i need to know."

"it was just the way you were using your fingers, and i was already super sensitive."

"...so, you don't want me to use my fingers on you anymore?"

"oh, god, no," you say, and you can see choso visibly relax.

"oh... okay, good. i would have stopped if you wanted me to, but i was hoping that wasn't it. i love fingering you."

your tired smile spreads as you lift your other hand to curl into his hair, scratching gently. his lashes flutter, heavy eyes matching your own. "i love when you finger me too, cho. just maybe next time, be gentler... only because you'd already made me cum so much. my body was just tired and i don't think it could keep up anymore."

he nods, taking in every word you say. "i understand. that makes sense, i'm sorry. i should have checked on you and asked."

"it's okay, baby, you don't have to keep apologizing."

"but i just can't stomach that i-"

"it's. okay," you whisper slowly, pulling him down to meet your lips with his in a delicate peck where you can smell yourself on his breath.

he sighs when you pull away, face twisted irritably. "are you sure, baby? you're not just saying that?"

"of course," you say softly. "it was just one little thing. that's all. i'm okay."

choso almost looks reluctant to accept your dismissal of the situation. he somehow feels like he needs to be reprimanded more for it, and you can tell simply by the way he stares at you.

"cho," you giggle. "stop, i told you i'm fine."

"i know. you're too sweet to me, (y/n)," he murmurs. "i wanna make it up to you. can i? is there anything i can do to make you feel better? please tell me."

you swoon internally at just how much cares. "can you just cuddle me please?"

"yes. absolutely, yes."

the brunette moves to kiss your forehead, then helps ease your legs over so that you are settled comfortably over the bed. before he lays down, he is reminded of the dampness beneath you, coating your inner thighs and creeping up to your belly button.

"love, do you have a towel?" he asks you gently as you start to curl over to him. "i need to clean you up, don't i? i made kind of a mess."

"later, cho," you mumble tugging at his bicep. "just want to be close to you right now."

he's torn momentarily. he's always quick to cater to what you ask of him, to just silently yet happily comply with whatever you need, but he knows that the second he gathers you in his arms, sleep is going to take over the both of you as it normally does after sex. the last thing he wants is for you to be laying in a sticky pool of your own arousal. he imagines you waking up uncomfortable, and it doesn't sit well with him.

"hold on a minute," he tells you. you look up curiously as he kisses your cheek and slides his arm slowly from you to stand. your hand slips into his before you release him reluctantly.

"cho?" you call him with big eyes, and the brunette almost gives in right there.

"just one more second. i remember us always doing this, and i don't want to neglect you now."

"...but-"

"one second. i promise, love."

you sigh and accept it. the moment you say okay, choso is practically sprinting to your bathroom and back with a towel. you can't help but smile gently as he hurriedly, yet gently, cleans you dry, holding your legs in his palm and easing them to the side when he's done.

"do you have to pee?" he asks you rather bluntly, gazing up at you as he folds the towel and places it on the ground.

you groan at the thought. "yeah, but i don't feel like it."

"that's okay. i'll take you."

"to pee?" you quirk a brow.

"yes?" he answers as though you questioning the thought is absurd. "i don't want you to go yourself. you're tired."

"yeah, but then that means you'll just be listening to me."

"(y/n), i've seen every part of you. i don't care about watching you pee."

"why would you want to hear or watch me in the first place?" you whine.

"to make sure it doesn't hurt you when you do."

"cho, baby, you did not hurt me that bad. oh my god," you run a hand over your face and shake your head with your laughter.

"i just want to make sure you're alright. i can close my eyes if it helps," he says stubbornly, leaning down to gather you slowly into his arms. your arms go to wrap over his neck as he lifts you up and walks you off.

"it's honestly fine whatever you do, cho, i just think it's a little funny."

"to worry?"

"nooo," you sigh, knocking your head against his shoulder. "nevermind."

choso responds with a peck to your head before sitting you down in the restroom. once the both of you are settled, you're back in bed under the covers. choso holds you with your back to his chest, palming soothingly over your abdomen as you drift off to sleep with the feeling of his chest rising and falling against you.

"(y/n)," cho's voice rumbles into you. you hum contentedly half asleep, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. "thank you for being honest with me. i love you. i love you so much."

"mmm. i love you too, cho. thank you for always listening to me."

toji fushiguro:

toji, mentally and physically, can not get enough of you, especially after long stressful days on the job. when he comes home from work and is greeted by the sight of your pretty face after having had guns pointed at his head, blood spilling on his face, and the weight of exhaustion and sore muscles hanging on his back, seeing you is like seeing the gates of heaven after death.

the assassin is always so quick to fall over you, pressing you to him and smothering you in long, deep, hot kisses as he walks you back or picks you up to carry you to your bedroom, or to the shower, or hell, even to the countertop in the kitchen.

toji fucking loves being inside you. he loves tasting you on his lips, feeling you clench around his fingers, watching you squeeze over his heavy cock as he sinks into you with a guttural groan and a devilish smirk. he loves the way your soft skin feels beneath his calloused hands, he loves licking the salty-sweet sweat from your neck as you toss your head back, he loves the sound of your pussy gushing around him with each slow stroke that inevitably transitions into ruthless pounding.

god, he loves fucking you as much as he loves you, and the moment he's got you in his arms with a week of stress pent up within his chest, he's pouring all if it straight into the way he fucks you, and he gets lost in the euphoria that is you.

you're such a pretty thing beneath him, so small compared to his bulking frame, and he is obsessed with it. one second, he's stroking in leisurely, absorbing every second of the way he slides his girth between your gummy walls, soaking up the way you greedily drag him back in with each thrust. and the next, you're in a mating press and he's grunting into your mouth through a sloppy lip lock, slamming in rhythmically, stilling his cock inside you for a second longer each time so that you can feel just had deep he is, just how deliciously he's stretching you open. hell, he doesn't even know when or how it happens. he just knows that you have him whipped, and his stress melts away with each drag of his seed he pumps into you after the umpteenth round.

"fuckin' hell, doll, keep drainin' my cock just like that. thaaaaat's it, pretty baby- hah, fuck- take me so deep inside this perfect lil' pussy..."

toji has always been well aware of the size difference between the two of you. he's always been a freakishly large man, and that fact of course applies to the generous width of the monster he carries between his legs. he knows you struggle at times when he has to take a good minute or two to help you relax as he eases himself into you while you whine, that his size can be a bit overwhelming, but you've accustomed to him so well that he completely forgets about how much stronger, heavier, and bigger he is- especially so when he is stressed.

he is, however, unfortunately, reminded after he has curled your lower half up from the bed with your legs over his shoulder. your knees are hovering by your ears as he plants himself over you with his feet on the bed, holding onto your hips and pounding himself down into you almost vertically, keeping you flush against his torso.

his day had been particularly long and grueling, and the job he had been on took far longer than expected just for his client to argue with him about some bullshit once he had finished. toji's irritated, and he's fucking you like he is.

normally you don't have much of a problem with that, but this position he's got you in has you widening your eyes and practically screaming. he's too deep, pushing in too hard, and this angle gives you no room to squirm away or for his dick to angle anywhere but straight into your guts. it hurts, and his face is tense with blazing jade irises of fury, fingers digging into your skin bruisingly, and he's on the verge of going impossibly harder.

you choke, scrunching your face and moving to press against him. when he starts to reach for your hand and pin it down, you shout.

"orange!" you cry. "stop, toji, orange!"

he instantly stills, face falling as he stares down at you in shock. "oh shit, baby, for real?"

you nod quickly with a tight face and he's retracting within seconds, pulling out carefully and bringing your legs back down to the mattress.

"fuck, alright," he says, climbing over you and pulling you down gently. "sorry, baby, was it the angle?"

you don't say much, only nod again as you fight the tears that prick the corners of your eyes. you keep your eyes closed and toji wraps you up, laying back on his side and pulling you into his chest. he feels your legs twitching against his and your shoulders shaking as he holds you, and remorse floods his chest. "talk to me."

"w-was too deep, toji," you shudder, whispering shakily into him. "s'big, and that angle- it hurt."

toji's heart clenches as he holds you tighter around your shoulders. he kisses your forehead, pressing his lips to your hair. "i didn't realize, baby, i'm sorry."

"i told you it was too much..."

"i know, doll, but i didn't think you meant it. you usually don't."

"s'why i said... the word."

"yeah, you did. you did exactly what you were supposed to. good girl, doll," he praises, rubbing over your back slowly. he's never seen you look so pained in such an intimate space with you. the way your brows were pinched angrily when he looked up, the way your teeth bared in a soft grimace, the way you pushed against him and wanted him to get off, it breaks his heart. he feels like a complete piece of shit, especially so because he didn't notice until your safeword came flying out of your mouth.

"i'm sorry," he apologizes again. "i should've been payin' attention. i had a bad day... fuck, sorry."

you can tell he's remorseful, and that combined with the fact that you've been fucked stupid for the past hour and a half has you shaking your head against him forgivingly, head dizzy as you finally take a moment to collect yourself. "it's okay," you mumble into his neck lightly.

"it's not, doll. it ain't even fun or sex anymore if i'm hurtin' you," he frowns. you make a soft noise but don't respond to him verbally. toji looks down at you, gently lifting your head to catch the fuzzy look in your eye. "you hearin' me? you okay?"

you nod dumbly, a hint of unease pinching your brows when your legs twitch again and the ache in your core throbs. you burrow your face in toji's neck and he sighs.

"i gotta get you cleaned up, doll. then i'll make up for it."

"wait," you mumble the moment you feel him pulling away. he stops as you cling to him, peering up at him through sleepy lashes. "don't go."

"i'm just gettin' you a towel. i'll be right back."

you look at him sadly once he has completely torn away from you and stood at the edge of the bed. he watches the way you bring your knees to your chest and look up at him with sleepy, desperate eyes. toji exhales, tilting his head.

"you want me to take you with me?"

"yes..."

he allows himself to smile lightly in amusement. "alright, but you're not walkin' anywhere, you understand?"

he leans down and you reach up to wrap your arms around his neck. he hoists you up cautiously by your bum, allowing you to wrap your legs around his torso. you cringe slightly at the action, your legs burning after having endured such exertion, and toji can feel you shift against him as he holds you with one arm by your waist.

"that's not comfortable, is it?" he turns to your face, but it has already disappeared into his neck. you don't respond and toji exhales at the stubborn clinginess that you resort to in this fucked out state at the cost of your comfort.

he aids you by holding one of your thighs gently as he walks to your bathroom to retrieve the things he needs. with one hand holding you and the other gripping some cloths, he carries you back into your room and sets you softly onto your back on the cushions.

he gently unwinds your legs from around him and kneels on the bed beside you. he ducks down to kiss you softly, and you hum in satisfaction against him before he pulls away, stroking your forehead.

"close your eyes, doll. let me take care of ya."

a warm rag runs over your body, wiping over dark hickeys and lines of sweat. his lips follow in the cloth's wake, kissing over any part of you that he deems he has treated too roughly in his haste to relieve himself of stress.

he reaches your thighs, where the most pain resides, and presses his lips to them softly. his fingers run over your calves, up the sides of your plush flesh and he proceeds to pepper kisses between your legs, swiping the cloth over your damp entrance tentatively, keeping his eyes on your face to ensure that he isn't further harming you. you do jerk slightly, but that is the extent of your physical reaction.

"i got you, don't worry."

the second you feel the cloth leave you, toji's hands are pulling you up again, moving you around so that he can lay flat on his back beside you. you open your eyes, watching him curiously.

"come lay on me, baby," he guides you by your arm.

you do as he says, easing yourself chest-first onto of him and allowing your body to sink into his heat. his hands come over you and his palms work into the knots in your lower back, over your bum, and in your shoulder blades. he kneads into the balls of tightness, rolling over and rubbing them through lazily.

your eyes flutter at the relieving sensation, the green-eyed man's rough hands smoothing to rid your body of excess tension. "there you go," he kisses your shoulder. "i'll make you feel better, i promise. no more pain for my girl."

"love you, toj," you whisper sleepily into his skin.

"love you too. i'm sorry for hurtin' you. i'll be more careful."

ryomen sukuna: you know sukuna to be rough in all aspects of his life, and that certainly does not change when it comes to the two of you having sex- in fact, that very trait of his is enhanced. the moment he slips inside of you, he's pushing your head face first into the pillows, gripping your waist or your thighs or your throat with his large palms as to prevent you from running away, spitting into your mouth, fisting your hair, leaving red bite marks in his wake, anything he possibly can to remind you that you are his to devour whole.

you've always enjoyed the way he tosses you around or fucks you over the velvet pad of his throne, or holds you almost violently by the thighs in the air and spears you down on his ungodly thick cock while sitting at the edge of your bed with his feet planted into the floor. he knows he's not gentle with you, but aggression is the only way he knows to take you by, to show you how much you drive him fucking crazy, to bask in your enchanting screeches and your doll-like, hazy expressions.

and like the good girl he knows you to be, you take him every single time, and it spurs him on. it encourages him to plow harder, to grip tighter, to render you completely immobile beneath him as he ruts himself into you like it's the end of the fucking world and the only way for him to survive is to fuck you like a worthless whore, though you're nothing close to one.

while he always leaves you in a pool of your mixed fluids on the verge of losing consciousness, shaking like a leaf kissed by the breeze, you've never expressed an inability or refusal to handle him. you take him so well for a human, and sukuna's captivated by your strength, your insatiable desire when he's bullying his dick into your swollen cunt. while you get overstimulated, or hell even beg him to go slower or softer, he knows you don't really want him to stop because you haven't uttered the one word that he told you to reserve only for the times you feel you are beyond discomfort.

that is, until a few seconds ago, when the muffled word rips from your hoarse throat through the ball of your panties he's stuffed into your mouth.

sukuna's on top of you, pressing his heavy weight over your back with his arms wrapped under your frame and his thighs crushing in on your on. you're on your stomach, tears dribbling from your eyes and down your face as sukuna finally stills inside you after having thrusted painfully into your cervix over and over. he's so deep inside you, and he wants you to feel. he wanted to see how much further he could break you in, but clearly, he had mistakenly forgotten that you are still fragile.

the king of curses' eyes go wide, and he rips an arm from under you to tear the gag from your mouth. you heave out a sob, face falling into the pillows as you murmur your safeword again, a string of practically unintelligible spent moans that only sukuna can understand because he's never heard you utter that word before.

"red, red, red," you snivel, and sukuna's face relaxes.

"i heard you," he murmurs gruffly. "give me a moment."

you whine as your entire body collapses with the withdrawal of sukuna's arms from your body. he sighs heavily, looking over your marked skin as he smoothes a hand up your spine. you flinch with a whimper, and he clicks his teeth.

"this is what happens when you grow cocky."

"h-hurts, kuna. too hard," he thinks he hears you simper.

"never heard you say that before," he murmurs. "know your limits, woman."

he slowly eases himself out of your warmth with a clenched jaw and angled brows, watching your arousal gush onto the sheets the moment he's pulled back. you jump and curl further up into the pillow.

"oh my, how far have i taken you this time?" he hums, watching as you squirm under even the slightest touch he gives.

"ryooo," you whine.

"alright, alright," he comes back down over your limp body, curling his fingers over your forehead to pull your face up and gently brush your sweaty hair away. your eyes are closed as he turns inward to look over you, caressing your damp cheek softly. you're so warm, so shaky beneath him. your brows are pinched together in pain and exhaustion, and your lips are wobbling. hell, he's never seen you look so weak before.

"hey," he coaxes gently, voice rumbling tenderly against your back through his toned abdominals. you're releasing a series of trembles, broken hums, likely unsure of where you even are, and sukuna curses internally. he softens. "what do you need, peach?" he asks you in a low whisper.

your response is near incomprehensible, but sukuna is already thinking and moving before you even open your mouth. he exhales heavily and presses himself back up so that he can stand and gather you in his arms. you whimper when he goes to delicately flip you over.

"relax," he orders softly, smearing the wetness away from your cheek and smoothing his hands over your heated skin. you obey him to the best of your ability as he pulls you up.

as though it is muscle memory, you lean into his bare chest once he is holding you bridal style. you continue to tremble, and sukuna's crimson eyes roam your body carefully. he's truly done a number on you this time.

normally when it came to baths, sukuna would have one of his servants or uraume run them for you, but instead, he feels the need to take the duty on himself as he carries you into your large connected restroom. he sets you down within the inhumanly large royal tub slowly, and the moment he pulls from you, you reach for him lazily in retort as your head rolls back against the rim.

"be patient, i am not going anywhere."

he reaches to turn on the faucet as hot water streams around your feet. he's hasty with his movements, focused, knowing that you do not desire to be cold in this moment. he stands to retrieve the oils and soaps he's purchased solely for your pleasure and sits back down beside the tub.

"open your eyes," he reaches in to cradle your chin. you scrunch your lids and tilt your head to him, peeling your blurry eyes on his command. "lavender or peppermint. pick one."

your eyes weakly drift to the array of bottoms lined on the ledge. "lavender," you request tiredly.

your voice is so small, so light, a heady contrast to the way you normally challenge him with your playful tone. sukuna looks at you momentarily, soaking in your sweet mellow state, before retrieving the said bottle and pouring it into the rising steamy water.

he keeps a hand on your shoulder, rubbing over a bite mark with his thumb, as bubbles, soothing fragrances, and petals fall into the tub one by one. the hot water crowds over your bare skin, alleviating the dull ache between your legs and the stings of the marks on your skin.

sukuna holds an intense look of focus, swishing his arm around the water to ensure that all the properties he has included mix together well. you watch him, dazed, cheek propped against the porcelain with heavy (e/c) eyes studying his attentiveness. he feels your eyes on him, but only raises a brow at you once the bath is finished.

you truly aren't all there.

sukuna rises to his feet, slipping his arms behind you and under your own to hold you up as he steps inside with you.

you let him manuever you, your body too exhausted to dare to try to move. he pulls you flush against his chest, his thighs crowding over your own. you sigh out, leaning your head back against his shoulder as he brings a cloth over you, washing away remnants of spit and cum, massaging into the aches of your body wordlessly.

his chin comes down over your shoulder while his hands wind over your waist to stroke your legs. his fingers dance gently over your inner thighs, up your abdomen, ghosting over your neck. he's everywhere, and for the first time, in a supple, tender way, as though he is polishing glass that he does not wish to break.

you're humming, breathing steadily, chest rising deeply and slowly. sukuna's hands curve to smooth over your tits, and you flinch, leading him to smirk lightly. "sensitive, are we?" you pout, brows curling, and he turns his lips to your neck. "calm down, brat, i'm not going to push you. keep still."

his palms work over the sore plush of your breasts and you melt, arching into him as he massages over you with such care. a weak moan threatens to escape you and sukuna shakes his head. "do not. that is what led you here in the first place."

his hands release your tits and follow the curve of your body downward once more. he continues his massaging and caressing of your body until you're no longer twitching.

his hands fall over your hips, smoothing over your stomach. he lifts up slightly to look down at you. "are you still in pain?"

you take a moment to respond, but eventually, your eyes open again and they meet sukuna's lax gaze. despite the permanent angle of his brows, he appears calm before you, mutely compassionate.

you lean against him, holding his gaze, and shake your head slightly, a bit of your senses slowly returning. "only a little between my legs," you murmur.

he hums. "and how would you expect me to tend to this pain?"

you don't say anything, but the soft glint in your eye speaks for you as sukuna's hand slowly trails down your stomach and past your clit lightly. you inhale sharply, still thoroughly sensitive.

sukuna's eyes look over the whole of your face. "do you wish me to massage your sore cunt from the inside? is that what you so desire?"

you moan out a gentle sigh, heavy lids falling over your eyes in a blink as you nod helplessly against him. "slowly..." you murmur.

"you are insatiable," he mumbles lowly. his fingers ghost over the lips of your pussy, circling them gently before sinking past and sliding into your warm walls.

your mouth parts and your head knocks back as sukuna watches you closely. the water swishes around your legs as you move, sukuna's lips crushing slowly over your mouth.

"i suppose i can assist as a reward for you speaking up."

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rahuratna · 5 months ago

Text

Synopsis: When a battle with some Gith hunters leaves your appearance in a deplorable state, it's up to your loyal companions to fix a bad hair day ...

Genres: Humour, fluff, crack.

Written as a gift for the wonderfully talented @radish-breath. Thank you for putting up with (and encouraging) my endless BG3 brain rot, lol.

Dividers by: @saradika-graphics

The chaos of the battle was beyond anything you'd known thus far. Vlaakith's hunters were both swift and dexterous, their bodies flickering out of your perception almost every time you tried to land an attack.

It was frustrating, and somewhat terrifying. You'd never encountered foes who had challenged you quite like this before.

Gaining the higher ground, on top of a stone bridge that formed an arch, you ducked down, another arrow nocked and ready. Fingers dancing along the fletching, you closed your eyes for a second, gathering your frazzled thoughts.

This had to be done. You could do it. You'd faced stronger foes, returning from the brink of annihilation with your cunning, strength and the ever-present support of your companions. You could -

"Watch out!"

Lae'zel's scream echoed across the courtyard, a note of rare panic in her voice. Your eyes snapped open, body reacting before the mind had time to process the visual signal, a primal, animal reflex.

It saved your life.

The leader of Vlaakith's team of bounty hunters swung a shining axe down toward your head, narrowly missing his intended target. The blade came down on your hair instead, lopping it off against the rough stone of the bridge balustrade.

Tearing yourself free, the muscles of your neck screaming in protest, you flung yourself away from him, loosing your arrow into the sinewy meat of his thigh. He grunted in pain, and advanced on you.

You had no choice but to stand and fight him directly, a tall order considering the arrows still zinging up like deadly zephyrs from his lieutenants below.

You had to think, you had to -

With a cry that rivaled a frenzied barbarian, Lae-zel vaulted the stone railing, her gith psionics propelling her forward with inhuman athleticism. Her blade came down against the Gith Leader's, striking up sparks with every fierce blow.

She was driving him back. He snarled at her, attempting to quail her in the face of seniority, but Lae'zel was well beyond the point of intended insurrection. She was fighting for her life, and yours.

A few devastating blows later, the Leader's arm was almost severed and, from somewhere in the shadows, Astarion's bolts struck true through his chest, bringing him to his knees.

With the tide of battle turned, your group managed to pick off the remaining members of the hunting party. You had all seen enough battle by now to never let your guards down for even a moment, and this rule bore hard-won fruit.

Afterwards, you all took the much needed respite at camp. Lying on your bedroll, you winced as you stretched over-taxed muscles and applied salve and bandages to your remaining wounds, the odd healing potion (and Gale's cooking) providing a coveted sustenance.

It was then that you noticed how everyone was looking at you. Some would meet your eyes and hurriedly glance away, while others were regarding you with open pity and gentle concern.

What on earth was this about?

You'd been injured quite severely in that unexpected skirmish, but it was nothing you hadn't been able to handle. Hells, each and every of your companions who'd been present had undergone similar harm. So why -

It was Karlach, in all her straightforward kindness, who approached you first, plopping herself cross-legged beside you on your bedroll.

"Hey, soldier. Hanging in there?"

You nodded, distracted by the glances you were still receiving, before edging closer to her, voice dropping to a conspiratorial hiss.

"Karlach ... why is everyone - "

"Ah, well, that's why I came over here."

She scratched at her cheek, uncomfortable.

"So ... it's your hair."

"My hair?"

"Have you taken a look in the mirror since you got back?"

"No, I've been a little busy surviving."

She raised both hands placatingly.

"Right. Well, when you get a chance, or you feel up to it, just know that we've had a little chat amongst ourselves and we'll help you fix it."

Curiosity was really eating at you now, and at the first opportunity, you hurried over to the mirror in the corner of the camp.

You stopped short.

Gods. It was small wonder that everyone had been looking at you with sympathy. You'd had no idea that the Gith Leader's axe had done quite so much damage.

Your hair had been chopped through lop-sidedly, uneven tufts sticking out like last season's bedraggled straw where you'd wrenched yourself free. The damaged ends swept over your shoulders like an old broom, and you'd never seen your hair look this dreadful.

A hand came down on your shoulder, startling you out of your reverie.

It was Lae'zel.

"I don't set much store by appearance, but you look like you've been dragged backward through all the wards in a githyanki crèche."

Shadowheart's acidic rebuke came swiftly.

"Not that different from how you look everyday then, Lae'zel."

Karlach pushed them both apart, striding towards you.

"Come on, you two. We're here to stage an intervention, not tear each other's hair out."

Your glance flicked between them.

"An intervention?"

Shadowheart sniffed.

"Well of course. You didn't think we'd leave you wandering around Faerûn with your hair in that state."

You gulped heavily, extremely thankful that you'd landed yourself such reliable friends. Lae'zel clicked her tongue irritably.

"Let's get on with it then. Shadowheart, I presume you're the one who's going to do the damage control."

"And you would be wrong, my sweet Gith poppet. I'm the one with the necessary skills here."

Astarion sauntered forward, looking particularly smug. You noted that he was wearing a leather apron, similar to the ones barber's favoured, the numerous pockets filled with instruments: scissors of varying sizes and shapes, fine razors, combs and brushes of all kinds.

You raised an eyebrow.

"So you're the expert at this?"

He scoffed, one hand waving in airy indignance.

"Of course I am. Have you seen my hair? It's a thing of most ethereal beauty ... or so I've been told."

You nod slowly.

"I suppose you're right. What are you thinking?"

He approached you, those deft, long-fingered hands fluffing out the hair on either side of your head, eyes taking in the damage with nothing short of professionalism. Quite suddenly, you felt a sense of reassurance. You were now in the capable care of your resident vampire, and there was no way he would leave any stone unturned when it came to fixing your appearance.

"Hmm. Hmm. I see something here ... a vision, if you will."

Lae'zel looked surprised.

"A vision? I thought you were just going to shave her head and be done with."

Karlach giggled.

"Now that you mention it, that might be a smashing look. Get a tattoo on your scalp and everything."

"Are you both mad?" came the snippy rejoinder from Shadowheart. "A short princess cut would be better."

Astarion shot them a disapproving look.

"I'm certainly glad that I'm the one handling this. No need for drastic measures if you have the skill. There's a style popular amongst some scholars in Baldur's Gate, the young edgy ones who think learning from tomes is so last year."

Gale's outraged exclamation at this news from across the camp was roundly ignored.

"And what does this cut look like?"

"It's an angled trim, high above the nape and coming down here. Asymmetric, like this."

His hands traced the shape in the air above your shoulders and you raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

"Well, I trust you, Astarion. Have at it then. Quite frankly, anything's better than this."

"My darling, you really need to raise your standards."

In spite of his sharp reply, you could see from the very slight flush at the tips of his ears and his ultra-stoic expression that Astarion was pleased that you'd placed your faith in him so wholly.

"Let's get to work then."

He spun you around to face the mirror, and Karlach carried over a stool to make the process easier. Astarion fussed about, setting up a basin with warm water, producing various solutions and oils from those bottomless pockets and setting up a tray with the combs and trimming implements.

Even Shadowheart looked taken aback now.

"What are ... all of these?"

"Sweetheart, this is how it's done in most of the best salons in the city, don't you know?"

"All right, but what are those?"

Astarion paused, clearing his throat.

"I take it you've all wondered, at some point, how my hair could possibly look this perfect."

Lae'zel stared at him.

"You look like a runty sheep."

Karlach stuffed a fist into her mouth as Astarion's glare scorched over them.

"I wouldn't expect the likes of you to know much about proper hair care, but if you must know, I distil and mix these potions and oils myself. Plants are a wonderful source of healthy extracts."

"Hear, hear," came Halsin's call from beside the fire. "The Oak Father provides for beauty too."

Astarion, somehow, refrained from rolling his eyes.

"If we're to fix this damage, then a cut won't be enough. We have to treat the hair, soften it, bring out its natural curl, and then we'll cover the damage."

Shadowheart nodded critically.

"Sound advice, Astarion. You're quite the expert."

Readying yourself for a true 'Baldur's Gate Salon Experience', you followed Astarion's brisk instructions, allowing him to wrap a cloth around you to prevent your clothes from absorbing water, the tension leaving your shoulders as he had you lean backwards, neck braced on another heavily folded cloth over the rim of the basin.

A comfortable silence descended over this corner of the camp as Astarion soaked your hair, massaging some of the soapy extract into the individual stands with care. It felt surprisingly good, the trickle of warm water and the steady motion of his fingers dragging you into a pleasurable haze.

"Gods, that looks relaxing."

Halsin had wandered over at some point, looking with interest through Astarion's collection of hair potions.

"You came up with these mixtures all by yourself?"

"Oh believe me, I've had time."

Glancing to your left, you noted that Karlach, Shadowheart and even Lae'zel were lying on the grass nearby, chins propped on palms, watching with lazy interest. It reminded you, somewhat, of nights gathered together with friends when you were very young.

Before long, Astarion raised you gently, patting your hair with a cloth to remove the excess moisture. Now came the application of more oils and potions, each exceptionally fragrant. Reaching up curiously, you gasped as you felt the soft, glossy texture of your hair.

"Astarion, this is amazing!"

"Isn't it? It works wonders for curls, I've found."

Shadowheart edged forward.

"And what about straight hair? What works well for that?"

"Sweet almond and green nut oil is best as far as I know."

"Braids," grunted Lae'zel.

"If you mean what works best for braided hair, I would say that cedarwood oil and the essence of peonies, combined and applied to the scalp, would prevent drying and damage."

"What about horns?"

"Karlach, do I look as if I know the first thing about horns?"

She cursed under her breath.

"Damn. Nobody knows shit about horn care. Guess I'll just have to flake my damaged horn debris all over your clothes and stuff - "

"I can look into it for you," came Astarion's hurried reply. "I'm sure there's something for all scalp adornments."

Transitioning into the crucial phase, Astarion began to turn your head this way and that, his touch feather-light. Watching him cut your hair was a surreal experience indeed. His reflection wasn't visible, of course, so it seemed as if a number of instruments had taken it upon themselves to lift, trim and comb your hair.

He divided your hair into sections and delivered neat little angled snips to each, transforming the butchered ends and stray tufts into something far more aesthetically pleasing.

When he was done, he shook your hair out and called across to Gale.

"Oh mighty and handsome wizard, we require your assistance."

The eagerness with which Gale came hurrying over roused a grin on Karlach's face. He stopped beside the basin, rubbing his palms together.

"All right, I'm here. What do you need? Some advice on the best way to enchant an item? Perhaps one of my custom made cantrips for repelling dust and moisture from surfaces on a molecular - "

"Just blow some hot air out of your finger or something, there's a dear."

" ... oh. That's it?"

"I've got everything else covered. I'm just so bad with atmospheric spells, you know. Never got the hang of them."

"Well, in that case ... "

With a beleaguered sigh, Gale raised a hand. A controlled steam of beautifully warm air, just the perfect temperature, skimmed across your scalp. Astarion hovered at the corner of your vision like a fluffy hummingbird with an expert eye, adjusting a lock of hair here, snipping off a stray portion there.

Before long, the finished product was ready.

With a flourish, Astarion whipped the cloth bib away from you and spun you around to face the mirror once more.

"What do you think?"

It was testament to how well you'd come to know his little tells that you immediately recognized the nervous anticipation behind his confident demeanour. He'd certainly done a sterling job.

Gone were the rough edges and uneven planes. On the side that had been more heavily savaged by the axe, the hair was shorn fairly close to the scalp. The other side sported a soft, vibrant tangle of curls that flowed down to your shoulder, the transition between the two giving you a certain rakish elegance.

"I love it!"

You beamed at him, capturing his hand between your own.

"I never thought my hair would look ... well, like this after that kind of damage!"

The companions who had slowly gathered round during the execution of this project were now offering their own input.

"Nice going, Fangs!"

"I'll be sure to come to you when my hair needs a trim."

"Hmm. The swashbuckling academic. A unique look to be sure. Remind me to lend you a book about the value of asymmetry in the Weave. A most insightful - "

"At least you don't look like a sheep."

"A veritable dryad. Nature has blessed you with lovely hair and a most talented friend indeed."

Astarion waved off the compliments with a self-aggrandizing chuckle, but he stayed by your side, casually leaving his hand in your excited grasp.

Later, while you rested in your bedroll, muscles now relaxed and free of the tightness that came after a hard battle, you heard the shift of Shadowheart's body a few feet away. Turning your head to her, you saw her slightly sleep-hazed glance taking in your hair.

"Trouble sleeping?"

"Not really. I was just thinking. I've ... never had things like this before. You know. Being together. Laughing. Doing silly, mundane activities. It's rather ... nice."

You gave a small smile, choosing to stay silent.

Shadowheart yawned, stretching one arm over her head.

"We should do it again sometime."

"What? Get my hair chopped off by a murderous gith hunter?"

"You know what I mean."

She turned over, settling further into her blankets.

"And next time, we do Astarion's nails and give my fringe a trim. And maybe polish Karlach's horns. And maybe get Gale to make that sweet brown drink of his, the one with the cinnamon sticks."

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coldshrugs · 9 days ago

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Pre-ARR Backstory

Io was born to Lelle and Marit Laithe in the Dalmascan village of Neimrahava. She would be the first of their three children (followed by Arvid and Viveka), though “Io” wasn’t the name they gave her.

In canon, the Neimrahava Woods are given a fleeting mention in some Bozjan fieldnotes, no details other than it was burned to the ground to drive out Dalmascan rebels, which is perfectly in line with the backstory I’d settled on for Io before learning about it, so. Mine now.

Right along the edge of the Golmore jungle, I’ve decided Neimrahava was originally founded by Viera who were no longer Forest Dwellers but hadn't moved to a city, and later welcomed Hyur who left majorly urbanized parts of Dalmasca for a more rural life. The settlement became a flourishing trading hub; many of the Viera still had extended family within Golmore, so they were allowed to hunt the forest and meet and do business without the sense of taboo. Hyurs and other races couldn't stray as deep inside.

Her father, Lelle, was an artisan, crafting fine jewelry and other metalworks (her pearly moon earring was a gift from him), and her mother, Marit was involved in the town’s government as well as helping plant and tend medicinal herbs usually found too deep in the forest to be convenient. Her brother wanted to be a trader, and Vivi was young and quiet, but they were always getting into something. They were Io’s little shadow.

Io has always been quiet and reserved, but even in her youth there was a gentle warmth in her personality. She preferred to make friends by listening or offering to help with a tough task when someone needed it. She spent a lot of time alone, reading in the branches of a tall tree or methodically fletching arrows for the hunters until she began apprenticing as one herself. By her late teens, Io was one of the best hunters of her generation. She grew into a soft-spoken, witty, and deeply kind woman, but not without flaws—she can be impatient, struggles to express her negative emotions, and isolates herself when she gets in her head.

They were happy, and although life was set against a backdrop of imperial occupation, there were enough bright moments that made enduring the hardships somewhat easier.

Whispers of resistance were always in her periphery. But Io was too young to understand and fairly sheltered from that for a long time. Her parents weren’t fighters, but they could aid the cause in other ways—crafting supplies, fencing goods, and hiding things (or people) for the resistance when they could. They had a “not around the children, please” rule.

As Io got older, her eyes opened to the little injustices woven into her life. Her peers started talking about or even making plans to join the movement. Io briefly considered it for herself. She could have joined a cell, but she wasn’t ready to leave home or her siblings, and honestly, she was more than a little frightened by the thought of combat.

And then her village was razed in a brutal Garlean assault. Garlean artillery launched into homes made of wood and stone, soldiers setting fire to anything that would burn, gunning down residents trying to flee… Io was shepherding Arvid and Vivi when she realized she forgot her bow; she left them for a moment, told them to stay put while she went back for it, and by the time she returned, they were gone.

There was no time to mourn. She saved Ganymede from a burning stable and got the fuck out of there. Slowly, they made their way west to Eorzea. They made use of the Garlean camps they passed on the way; Io was already a distance hunting prodigy, but now she is a peerless sniper. She no longer fears combat.

In the years before the calamity, she made a relatively comfortable, if quiet (read: lonely) life for herself. She hunted the Black Shroud and sold her game to meat vendors and restaurants there and across Vylbrand. After her Echo awakened, she met Y’shtola on one such venture, and her life changed again.

#io lore #i hope the banner isn't too much!! i might try to make it thinner if i make more lore posts #this was a lot of fun to organize!!!

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sphireath-wisp · 9 months ago

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Sypnosis: Being transported into the historical manhwa you were reading is no fun, is it? What's even worse is that you're the villainess in this story! But wait! Something's off. You've tweaked the story and changed the course of fate. What route will you take now?

Warnings: Strong implications of F! Reader (since we're talking about manhwa), not proofread, Alternate Universe, (kinda) close resemblance to the original plotline of the OG universe

Where are we? -> Prologue

The glaring headlights face you head-on, almost entirely blinding your field of view. Everything feels like it's in slow motion, you can't run in time and neither can you stop now. You can hear the engine of the car, it's pitiful that you didn't get the chance to say goodbye to your loved ones. However, you don't get the chance to think about any of that now - your body has lunged forward due to the car crash.

'From rags to riches,' they say, but this is all much too sudden. Whether you consider yourself lucky or not, you've been graced with a few more conscious minutes and the pain that comes after is unforgivingly quick. The grainy asphalt against your back is uncomfortable. The car screeches to a halt beside your limp body and the driver shouts out worried yelps. You don't know whether the liquid pooling beneath your body is rainwater or blood.

Black dots your vision before you hear any sirens. Perhaps the afterlife will give you some solace. It's a thought you entertain and it comforts your fear of death. Eyes fluttering shut, you can't find the energy to open them again. You've died. You would've died. You, by right, should've died.

So then... where exactly are you? Maids left and right shoot each other cautious, but worried glances. Stumbling your way past the maids and out of bed, you find yourself in front of what's supposedly your vanity, much too luxurious and intricate than you're used to. A face that's not yours looks back at you and, this time, your memory doesn't fail you.

"Ah," Even your voice sounds alien, smooth like the sweetest of honey. Your head turns back to the maids gathered in your room, the grandiose bedroom, the spacious canopy bed, and... your uncanny reflection. You've been reincarnated, but out of all the strange possibilities and probabilities, you've been bestowed a chance to live the life of a Villainess in the novel you browsed through on a whim.

(Name), a tyrant at their peak, and a ruler doomed to meet an early death by the guillotine with the jeers of your people. Your consciousness is now bound to the body of a cold-blooded heir of the Mortalis Kingdom, and you must take up their name as your own.

With a hand on your beating heart, with your body burning up more than it should, you feel yourself collapse. "Your Highness!" the maids scramble around you like a flock of bewildered fletchings, but they all hesitate to even graze your skin. "You shouldn't leave your bed, your grace. You've only just got over that terrible fever!"

Ah, so that's why you felt so tired. No worries, you'll spend much-needed time recovering and resting to your heart's content. Plus, you can spend all that extra time planning your next course of action without a disturbance - you'll need it! The Elysian Kingdom, ruled by the angels, already have a sour impression of you, (Name). Where do I even begin with the demons in the Umbryss Kingdom? You're such an easy puppet for them to take over Mortalis! Thorns overwhelm your path to a long life and the revolution that will take your head isn't far!

Will you make it?

Hi! In case I was too vague, let me explain the world I've created simply for those who are confused.

Mortalis -> Human World

Elysian -> Celestial Realm

Umbryss -> Devildom

In this world, you are the villainess in line for the throne, the direct descendant of the ruler of Mortalis. I'll introduce each character slowly and give them time to develop. Please note that there will be an overlap of characters in various chapters, BUT - of course - each character will have their own chapter to star in.

Note that demons and angels DO NOT exist in this universe, but magic does! Remember that these are spin-offs so the characters won't be the exact same as canon.

Tag list: @honeymoo-cafe, @whatever-fanfics

#obey me shall we date #obey me x y/n #obey me #obey me mc #obey me au #obey me x you #obey me x mc #obey me x reader

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the-dixon-effect · 2 years ago

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Just a Girl

requested by: @dixonsgirl93 which you can find here -> masterlist

A/N: thank you so much for the request my love!! i love this concept so much that it had me up at 4am writing it after recovering from a long-haul flight, so so sorry that this took so long for a little drabble xx

It was too tempting.

Not after years of stumbling around in dirty rags and a single pair of worn combat boots. Not after fighting for your life every single day, were you going to pass this up. Today, you were safe. And right in front of you, in this completely empty mall, were a pair of pristine black stilettos.

You held one in each hand as you admired them, a treasure of a world lost in time. You felt like a different person just clutching them.

"Hey, Maggie!" you are unable to control the wide smile cast across your lips. "Look what I found!" the girl glanced in your direction from the entrance of the store, scoffing at your excitement.

"Whatcha gonna do with those?" she asked, chuckling, as she jogged up to the display table coated in a thick layer of dust.

"I don't know. Walk around. Dance. Put 'em on a table and forbid anyone from touching them," you said quietly, smiling as you palmed at the crisp black leather. "They could be a symbol. Y'know, Lord of the Flies style," you joked, meeting the farmgirl's eyes. Strangely enough, the ghost of a boutique was relatively empty apart from these shoes, a few scraps of useless clothes scattered around and many plastic hangers adorning the white-tiled floor.

"Alright, fine. But ya' have to bring that little black dress back, too," she teased, in that familiar Southern drawl. Pointing to a rack of clothes on the other side of the store, you spotted a lone black dress threatening to fall off the flimsy hanger. It was no surprise that when the remaining survivors came through these parts, rummaging through stores and kitchens and bunkers, a pair of high heels and a mini dress didn't make the cut for the survivalist supply list. It had been a couple years by now, and indeed no one back at the prison would care if you indulged in a bit of fun. Besides, you're just a girl. And a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do to get by.

Most evenings were spent in the foyer swapping stories and enjoying the ever-expanding group's company, now that everyone was feeling more comfortable in the prison. Daryl was perched on the second step of the cool, steel staircase fletching some bolts for his crossbow, after the fairly uneventful run earlier. One thought did linger in his mind, however - as he tuned out to the rest of the conversations engaging in his midst. You had briefly shown him what you managed to pick up back at the abandoned mall, some scraps of food, some comics for Carl, and... what could only be described as an image from one of his wildest dreams. Or worst nightmares. What the hell would he do with himself if you suddenly appeared in that dress? And those heels? Probably run, and hide someplace where nobody would notice his reaction. And just when he was imagining what you would look like in that outfit from earlier, he heard a voice call out from upstairs.

"Hershel! You better believe these things are harder to walk in than a peg leg!"

The foyer erupted in chuckles as conversations ceased while everybody looked up at you on the balcony, held up firmly by Maggie who couldn't control her laughter either.

"Come on down, Y/N. Betcha can't do it!" the grey-haired man exclaimed as the rest of the group watched you stumble to the top of the staircase.

Oh God. She's so popular. And beautiful - were the thoughts swirling around in Daryl's head as he turned a swift 180 and looked up at your perfect figure. You looked so pretty when you laughed like that; a face that lit up the room - lit up this rotten world - when the sweet sound that even a siren couldn't mimic echoed over the walls of the dismal building. And that outfit; the smooth black dress that clung to your thighs so perfectly with a neckline that revealed just enough to make him go insane. Those heels. Daryl always had a thing for girls with nice legs, but he was always too embarrassed to mention it. It may have slipped out in front of his older brother once upon a time, and for the years to come he never shut up about it. Humiliating Daryl whenever a gorgeous girl like you walked past. Daryl never denied it, though, that you and that perfect body of yours were gonna be the death of him someday. And that felt like right now.

"Maggie, don't you dare let that girl fall!" Michonne shouted, laughing as she kicked her feet up on the cafeteria table and leaned back.

"Daryl, I swear to God, if you don't catch me I'll kill you," you began, addressing the archer that was gawking up at you, the one slightly obstructing your wobbly path down the staircase. Everybody in that cell block watched the poor man snap out of his daydreams as he shot up and grabbed your hand as your knees threatened to buckle beneath you. Maggie let go of her tight grip on your shoulders and erupted into giggles, as though she were playing Cupid.

"Thank you, Daryl," you said sweetly, not realising that Daryl is physically suffocating as you clutched Daryl's calloused palm. You took the opportunity to steady yourself on both feet and do a little twirl, lifting Daryl's arm up over your head as you spun around as gracefully as you could manage. A couple of cheers escaped from your audience, making you smile deeply. You hadn't felt this pretty in a long time.

"Whatcha doin' playin' dress-up anyway?" Daryl drawled, quietly.

"Well, I'm just a girl."

taglist: @alldevilsarehere90 @poisonmenegan @radcollectivesoul @emilykolchivans @pinchoftheoutsiders guys the taglist is looking a little lonely!!

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theoakleafpancake · 3 months ago

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So for that story study thing I'm doing for my fiction writing class has a current assignment where we write a part of the story we're studying in some other form (am doing The Hibernian). Did some letters to Pritchard from Crowley and wanted to share them on here

Pritchard—

You’d have a good laugh about the mess I’ve gotten myself into today. I know what you always say. That I need to slow down. Well, I didn’t, and now I’ve most likely made myself even more of a target. But if I’m not doing something against Morgarath, then I’m certainly not helping anyone.

I learned you trained another apprentice in Hibernia—a Halt with no last name. He’s a character. A bit gloomy and broody (and apparently not too fond of music), but not a bad chap. There is something strange, though, and I hope to find you again—not that it’s my place to pry into his private life, but he’s got a few secrets up his sleeve. Stumbled on his name, and his hometown. I don’t think he’s a threat—not to me, anyways. Unless he decides he’s had enough of me by tonight. It’s a bit hard to tell whether he likes me or not. He’s not a talkable man, though you would know that. What else do you know about him? Anyways, I should think myself to be likeable enough. (Also—he puts honey in his coffee. Strangest thing I’ve ever seen.)

We’ve arrested three of Morgarath’s men. They caused a disturbance with an innkeeper and his daughter. Also threatened to cut off my nose. Would have, had Halt not stepped in. Now we’re on our way to Morgarath himself and Halt’s come along with me. I feel bad—he came here to join the Corps and, well…the Corps isn’t worth much these days. He wants to see Morgarath for himself. I don’t think he’s the type of person to judge someone based on talk. I don’t blame him, but it’s no matter. Morgarath doesn’t hide his true colors.

Pritchard—

It’s a pity that such a beautiful castle goes to such a rotten man. And by God, Pritchard, you wouldn’t believe how much more arrogant he’s gotten. He treats his audience hall like the King’s throne room. He isn’t anything like a King—I wish I could do us all a favor and get rid of him. But with the Corps falling to pieces, I feel helpless.

The entire meeting went horribly. His oh-so-high-one prefers to be called “lord”—last I saw, I answered to the King, not to a Baron. He cares nothing for his own people and his only solution was to have the soldiers flogged. How cruel can he get? I tried to diffuse the situation as best I could. He seemed strangely interested in Halt, though. Asked him all sorts of questions. It was interesting to watch their interaction. Halt seemed to almost match his attitude in everything, like he’d known Morgarath for decades. Had no shame—I applaud him. Oh, and he said his last name. It’s Arratey? Arratay? Sounds odd. As a matter of fact, it sounds like the Gallic word for “halt.” I’m assuming he did that on purpose. That would make more sense, actually. So he does have a sense of humor after all.

Pritchard—

I doubt any of these letters will ever make it to you, but writing these down is better than talking to myself. Halt seems to think that Morgarath encourages his soldiers to cause chaos. I should have known better myself.

We did part ways. I was almost hoping he’d come with me, but he was bent on going to Gallica to find work. I can’t blame him. But he gave me an idea of my own, and I’m inclined to follow it. There’s twelve Rangers left. Real Rangers, not the bucket heads that the Commandant is paid to hire. If I can find them, we could do something about all of this. Not too sure what. But it’s better than waiting to be charged.

Oh—did I say we parted ways? Right, we did, at least until Morgarath sent more men after me. So I’m officially next on the list to be banished. Anyways, Halt came back at the right time and we took care of them. He says he came back for his fletching jig. I think he missed me.

I convinced him to join the rest of us. If there will be a rest of us. Funny, he came up with the idea, but it took a bit of pushing for him to agree. He doesn’t seem so keen on any form of authority. But if this is all over, I think he’d be a good Ranger. But at least now, I don’t have to make this journey by myself.

So we’re on the run now. Closest Ranger is Leander in Dacton Fief, if he hasn’t been taken care of already. I wish you were here. This would be a lot better with your guidance, but I remember everything you’ve taught me. I won’t let you down, Pritchard.

#rangers apprentice #ranger's apprentice #john flanagan #ra fanfic #crowley meratyn #halt o'carrick #the lost stories #the hibernian #story study

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if-tomorrow-never-comes · 5 months ago

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With tastes like these, Burroughs was not Nirvana’s target demographic. Still, he maintained a soft spot for the band’s leader. For Cobain’s 27th birthday on February 20, 1994, Burroughs sent a photo of Kurt inside the orgone accumulator affixed to a painting he had made himself. A note in cramped handwriting read: “For Kurt, all best on 27th birthday and many, many more. From William S. Burroughs.” Less than two months later, the young star was dead. In the wake of the tragedy, Burroughs reflected on their meeting and Cobain’s choice to end his life. “The thing I remember about him is the deathly grey complexion of his cheeks,” he remarked. “It wasn’t an act of will for Kurt to kill himself. As far as I was concerned, he was dead already.” [52]As Christopher Sandford describes in the biography Kurt Cobain, Burroughs, troubled by the musician’s violent end, attempted to find meaning in Kurt’s lyrics: “There was surely poignancy in the sight of the 80 year-old author, himself no stranger to tragedy, scouring Cobain’s songs for clues to his suicide. In the event he found only the ‘general despair’ he had already noted during their one meeting.” Cobain’s suicide note demonstrates his intense feelings of empathy: “There’s good in all of us and I think I simply love people too much, so much that it makes me feel too fucking sad.” Burroughs’ own exit would not come for several more years. He made his final journal entry on July 30, 1997—just three days before he died from complications following a heart attack. His final testament bears some similarities to Cobain’s: “There is no final enough of wisdom, experience—any fucking thing. No Holy Grail, No Final Satori, no solution. Just conflict. Only thing that can resolve conflict is love, like I felt for Fletch and Ruski, Spooner, and Calico. Pure love. What I feel for my cats past and present. Love? What is it? Most natural painkiller what there is. LOVE.”

#love #kurt cobain #william s. burroughs #cats

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sesamenom · 1 year ago

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meet again at the end of time

(aka: C&C finally get their own pet edain)

some background:

(for those not following the braywashed saga) the two guys in the middle are (real, entirely human) wrestlers Elton Prince & Kit Wilson of Pretty Deadly, introduced to the silm fandom by @kitwilsonsass, and known for their uncanny resemblance to C&C in both appearance and demeanor.

As Arda is Earth, the Dagorath has not yet happened, and PD are human people who exist, it is entirely canon compliant for them to join C&C in the dagorath. Hence, CCPD alliance.

design notes:

Celegorm's tattoos represent a symbol of devotion to Orome/the Hunt by imitating Orome's vala markings. Given that bows aren't the best weapon for melee fights, his primary weapon here is based on a boar spear, because I imagine similar tactics would be helpful against some of Morgoth's larger creatures. He wears the Feanorian star once on his armband and once painted on his shield (not shown).

Curufin's helm is based off the Silm description of the red-plumed helms of the Host of Feanor. His armor features one Feanorian star and the Trees (telperion not shown), and his shield bears one other star. He wears a dwarven knife (not Angrist since beren broke it) on his belt.

Based on braywashed's assortment of PD outfit posts, they seem to have a light/dark color scheme, reflected here in their armor colors. Their hairstyles are based on what seems like their irl/interview-hair (aka practical hairstyle, because as unnaturally elven as they are they sadly do not have magical hair) (x). Elto's pink arrow fletchings and Kitto's blue mesh cape refer to the pink/blue matching outfit (x), while Elto's bow/quiver harness and both of their shirt colors reference the harness outfit.

Their weapons follow the opposite color scheme as their armor for contrast purposes, and weapon types (double rapiers + bow, double daggers) are based on braywashed's post here.

Both of PD's armor designs draw influence from c. 15th century English armor, seeing as they are British people, and feature a unique half-breastplate evocative of the extremely cropped sleeve shirt things they normally wear when wrestling.

edit: uploaded the wrong version (no tattoos) at first oops

#silm #silmarillion #dagorath #dagor dagorath #celegorm #curufin #kitto #elto #kitto & elto #wwelves #pretty deadly #crossover #at long last it is finished #originally it was supposed to be more painting-y but it didnt look great so i scrapped it and restarted w this #m&m have bor & sons #caranthir has haleth & the haladrim #ambarussa have the eastern beorians #and finally c&c get their own edain

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coralseacourt · 1 year ago

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🧡Broken Love🩵 🐚@coralseacourt🐚

✨Summery:✨ The youngest Acheron Sister gets rejected for Elain.

Love is sweet but revenge is sweeter. After a broken heart comes a broken court part three of broken love.

✨Warnings:✨ naughty scene

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4,

Part 3:

I m a traitor.

A liar.

The evil Personified.

At least that’s what they want to believe.

That the innocent girl I was, had turned on them without good reason.

They would never understand that revenge led me.

Revenge for all those hours I had spent alone locked up in their prison tower.

It had been a golden cage.

A prison I would never return to again.

🐚🪸🐚🪸🐚🪸🐚🪸🐚🪸🐚🪸🐚🪸🐚🪸

The doors opened and a cruel smile played around my lips.

With Eris right by my side I entered the High lords meeting Room.

Every pair of eyes found us in an instance.

Gasps and shocked faces all around us.

One Face particularly shocked. Azriel.

Just for a second my eyes swiped over his beautiful but furious face.

The newly crowned High Lord next to me chuckled and laid his hand on my bare back.

The game was on. And I was ready to play.

“Violet?” Of course feyre was the first to speak.

But I didn’t gave her any indication that I had heard her.

The growling from the other night court members was harder to ignore.

“ Tztz would you please not growl at my pet. She has claws and I rather don’t want her to use them.” I smiled dangerously at Eris.

“ I thought you promised me that I could play.” I said with a sensual tone. “I haven’t played in so long.” I glanced at Rhysand who looked like he could throw up at any given moment . My eyebrow raised I walked closer to the table where everyone sat.

My mental walls pulled up and tightened.

“Soon my sweetness. Nightmares are not made overnight.”

Eris strolled to the only free chair left and sat down like a king ready to conquer.

I narrowed my eyes and let my fingers drive over the top of the marble table.

Long fingernails clacking on the cold stone.

“I like to play. Don’t you High Lord of the Night?” I smiled cruelly at him.

His mask slipping away for just a second.

But I saw. I saw straight through him.

Then the moment was over, he straightened up and narrowed his eyes.

Ah there he is.

Rhysand.

The most powerful High lord of prythian.

“Violet. I see you.” He paused for a second pulling invisible dust from his jacket.

His pause seemed intentional and I had to think back to the words that had started it all.

Do you want to be seen?

“are in great company. And I thought you finally had the guts to go and be on your own. Seems you only changed sides.”

His face changing to a cruel mask of authority.

I tilted my head to the side looking at him like a predator analyzing its prey.

“I like being in his company and being his pet. It gives me satisfaction to know he can do whatever he wants with me.”

I smiled devilish and let one of my hands glide up my throat over my chin.

Playing with my lips and licking one of my fingers.

The growl that came from behind Rhys let me look up.

Azriel. His hand on his knife, teeth fletched and his black eyes staring me down.

”What has become of you? Look at you being the whore of autumn scum.”

I laughed out loud not bothered by his hateful words.

I put a innocent face up before saying.

“Oh but Azriel. I have only become what you have made me.” All night court eyes turned to the Shadowsinger surprised.

“Az? What does she mean with that?” Feyre, her eyes had teared up and my face softened for just a second before putting my mask back on.

“I don’t know what she is talking about.”

I giggled.

“Of course you don’t honey. But it doesn’t matter either way.”

I turned around and walked to the waiting hand of the only man that knew the rules of our new game.

“Now that we have this issue cleared, I want to announce our marriage.” The Autumn High Lord took my hand and kissed it gently.

Feyre gasped.

“No, you can’t do this. Rhys do something.”

But the Lord of Night only stared.

“Rhys, please she is my sister. He can’t marry her. What about Azriel’s Connection .” “Feyre stop talking.”

I stiffened.

First because of the mention of any kind of connection with the Shadowsinger.

But then because this asshole had dared to quiet my sister down.

Now I was angry.

And angry me did not hold back anymore.

With only a wink of my power, that no one had ever known about I called my shadows and let them rise behind me like a black wall that would withstand anything and anyone.

Eris was chuckling next to me while I stared at the shocked faces of all high lords and their companions.

My teeth fletched and my eyes glowing green with power.

“ If you ever dare to talk to my sister like that again you will regret it.” Everyone tensed at the words of my threat only Eris stayed calm.

“Wonderful now you angered my little nightmare. “

He pulled me into his lap and put a hand on my neck squeezing it softly before pulling my hair to the side to kiss my throat. Calming me down I realized.

My shadows disappeared in an instance.

“She is a Shadowsinger.” Helion leaned back in his chair, eyes gleaming with excitement.

“I m right here you don’t need to talk over my head I can and will talk for myself.” He only raised his eyebrows in response.

“You haven’t been like this before, what changed? Please tell me violet. We can fix this. I know we can. “

Feyre was now pleading with me and deep inside my heart broke but I had to do my part, had to play this character.

“There is nothing to be fixed. I m exactly who I want to be.” Was all I said and the attention finally was turned to the official meeting points.

But I could feel his eyes on me, could feel something else too. I scrunched my forehead in confusion.

Why could I feel jealousy.

Hot headed blatantly obvious jealousy.

The problem was that it wasn’t my feelings.

I looked up Azriel’s eyes gleaming at me.

And that’s when I could see what I clearly felt. Jealousy.

🐚🪸🐚🪸🐚🪸🐚🪸🐚🪸🐚🪸🐚🪸🐚🪸

It had been hours for the high lords to finish. We were the first to leave for the room we would spend the night in to continue the meeting on the next day.

A fire was burning when we entered. Cozy.

“Violet come here. “ I turned around to look at the male with the softest red hair.

I walked slowly towards him until we almost touched. His hands cupping my cheeks.

“Are you alright?” I blinked a couple times before catching myself.

Eris was a great High Lord but concern was not his strength.

So, for him to try to be gentle was new.

I pulled away.

“Of course, why wouldn’t I? This is what we’ve been working towards. Remember?”

He straightened up and back was my sensual Companion.

“I have to say , i was surprised how good you handled yourself.”

I only raised my eyebrow before strolling back towards him letting my hands slide softly down his chest pulling his dressshirt up to have better access to him.

He closed his eyes and let his head fall back.

A moan escaping his full lips while I was letting my fingers glide over his hot skin, down to his leather belt wich I opened with swift fingers.

“You are a naughty little vixen.”

“I know, but would you want me any other way?”

He chuckled before laying his hands on my shoulders and slowly pulling my dress down making it pool around my legs.

I was now completely bared in front of him.

“You really are as beautiful and cruel like one of my darkest nightmares.”

With strong arms he suddenly lifted me up and pressed me against the wall. My head falling back while his tongue circled around my peaked nipple.

Nipping, biting, licking.

“I need to be inside of you like you are inside of me every second, every moment of the day.”

And with that he pulled his pants down and started to slip into me first slowly until he was completely hidden inside of me, then hard and fast until the world erupted around us.

Stars filling my vision and moans leaving my lips.

And while i experienced complete Bliss the Shadowsinger next door was drowned in darkness having to listen to us.

✨Taglist✨

🪸@impossibelle

🪸@going-through-shit

🪸@marvelouslovely-barnes

🪸@mis-lil-red

🪸@isa1b2h3

🪸@darling006

🪸@the-sweet-psycho

🪸@chessebookgirl

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artaxlivs · 5 months ago

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Masterlist of my Hawkeye/Marvel works:

(In no specific order)

Say It Where I Can Hear You - Rated E - Winterhawk & Destiel crossover: Dean & Cas go on a hunt & run into Clint & Bucky. Dean hates Bucky Barnes. Monster of the week meets kink exploration (two separate couples)

Honey Got Me Hooked On You - Rated E - Clint/Bucky/Natasha: The one where Natasha thinks Bucky is the honey pot, Bucky thinks Clint is the honey pot and Clint just wants someone to dip their fingers into his–

Spring Dawning (Part 1) - Rated E - Clint/Bucky: The entire Avengers Coven is cursed & divided. Clint & Bucky are together except that Clint is cursed to live every day as a hawk, Bucky every night as a wolf.

That's So Fletch - Rated E - Clint/Bucky: Movie & Musical references, anti-bullying campaign, lessons about arrows

True Colors Series (8 Parts/complete) - Rated E - Clint/Bucky: The Snap didn’t dust half the universe, it turned them into soulmates who can only see colors when they find each other. Almost strangers to soulmates

The Case of the Missing Purple Sweatshirts - Rated T - Clint/Bucky: Someone is stealing Clint’s sweatshirts -my excuse to let Clint talk about Scooby Doo

Through the Looking Glass - Rated E - Clint/Bucky: Instead of talking, they miscommunicate themselves into being sex dungeon fuck buddies, BDSM Dungeon fic, miscommunications, learning through bad negotiations, so very much smut, background Steve/Darcy

Something to Tweet About - Rated T - Clint/Bucky: Someone tweets a series of photos of Clint & Bucky hanging out and mutually pining, they deal with it by avoiding it (obviously). friends to lovers, social media ship to lovers (podfic)

A Life Well Lived - Rated T - Clint/Bucky: just a glance at Clint’s last day

Make it Permanent - Rated E - Clint/Bucky: Secret dating, hickeys and tattoos and a little bit of healthy possessiveness

And the Stockings Were Hung - Rated E - Clint/Bucky: Christmas Exchange fic, Bucky's first Christmas at the tower, fluff and smut

Rotten Apples - Rated T - Clint/Bucky: A look into Clint's childhood trauma and how the bad stuff is easier to believe

Porn & Prose - Rated E - Clint/Bucky: some backstage smut between Mr Bingley (Clint) and Mr Darcy (Bucky)

Bucky, Lemme Smash - Rated E - Clint/Bucky: I just wanted to turn Clint purple and use this line from that meme, all the purple smut (Podfic here)

Both, Both is Good - Rated E - Clint/Bucky: Bucky avoids Clint until he realizes Clint has been avoiding him, fuck buddies to lovers, smut & miscommunication

The Happiest Place on Earth - Rated E - Clint/Bucky: Bucky plays Hawkeye in Disneyland because the actor who plays him is short and he’s real pissed that some guy named Clint is tall enough to play the Winter Soldier, enemies to lovers, Clint in eyeliner

Three to Tango - Rated E - Clint/Bucky/Natasha: James & Natasha teach Clint’s dance class, then they invite him for private lessons. Healthy communication, smut and Clint being an unreliable narrator

A Bird By Any Other Name (Series) - Rated E - Clint/Steve: Clint as the Winter Soldier thru WW2 & the present, hurt/comfort, mental struggles, smut

Body Count - Rated E - Clint/Steve: tumblr prompt hitman meets a sex worker, just so much smut

Friends Don’t Let Friends Wait Too Long - Rated T - Clint/Steve: Steve is too nervous to ask Clint out, Bucky’s gonna help in an helpful way. Fluff, misunderstandings, laughter, Natasha being a troll

Draw & Release (2 part series) - Rated E - Clint Barton/Jason Todd: Clint gets a tattoo & finds a new boyfriend/Dom

#hawkeye #clint barton #winter soldier #bucky barnes #jason todd #steve rogers #winterhawk #amerihawk #marvel #marvel/dc crossovers #marvel comics #soulmates #natasha romanov #winterwidowhawk

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thesakuragarnet · 27 days ago

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Harvest Moon (WereWolf Dabi X Wolf Hunter Hawks AU)

Summary: When a wolf is spotted in Musutafu for the first time in seven years, famed Wolf Hunter Hawks is called in to take care of the beast.

Written for my lovely friend the_great_queen

This work is rated M for strong language and brief mentions of graphic violence (don't let it fool you it's more of a meet-cute)

Tags: swearing, meet-cute, Medieval Europe-style AU with some age changes, full-shift Werewolf Touya, Wolf Hunter Keigo, Touya and Shoto are the only Todosibs, light angst, some humor, soulmate themes (because I always write them as soulmates I can't help it)

Disclaimer: Traditional werewolves aren’t as much of a thing in Japanese folklore so this is based off of Medieval Europe

Word Count: 3,758 words

AO3 link

Touya Todoroki is a rare breed, in more ways than one.

Even children of werewolves normally must be bitten to transform. The powers aren’t passed down, spreading like a disease rather than a genetic mutation. Until Touya Todoroki.

He had his first transformation at thirteen years old, to his mother’s utter horror, knowing that, if anyone found out, her son’s fate would be sealed. However, he didn’t share the same bloodlust that his father harbored while transformed.

Rei’s village had sacrificed her to their local wolf: the beast known as Endeavor…better known as the famed Wolf Hunter: Enji Todoroki two villages over. He lived a double life, proclaiming to be a mighty hero in the day, only to slay innocent lives in the dead of the night.

When Touya was eighteen, shortly after his baby brother, Shoto, was born, he’d gotten into a vicious fight with his father. Touya mauled him to death, finally ending the reign of terror he had held over their mother. Amidst the blood and the chaos, Rei knew at once what had to be done.

At their mother’s request, Touya left with his baby brother, starting a new life in a new town miles away.

Their mother would take responsibility for the death, to Touya’s utter despair, and be sent to an asylum.

…

Keigo Takami sets his silver-tipped arrows on the table, examining them for any imperfections, fingertips grazing the crimson fletchings. Keigo doesn’t enjoy his job, especially since he started it at such a young age. When your father wolfs out and tries to kill your mother in the middle of the night, you learn to listen to your instincts. You learn to shoot first and ask questions later.

Werewolves have grown bolder lately, peeling out of the shadows, and leaving behind nothing but blood in their wake. Most werewolves are just as ferocious in the daylight. They’re criminals who managed to escape or kill their assailants after being bit. They’re the ones who survive the change. The cruel. The outcast. The fearless .

Keigo’s never met a wolf that didn’t remind him of his father.

Fangs and beady eyes and murderous intent.

Callous and cold and monstrous .

So, when a resident of Musutafu spotted a wolf howling amongst the trees, they knew who to call.

The Wolf Hunter: Hawks.

Known for his silence and ruthlessness…his speed and tenacity…with the same ferociousness as the bird of prey his moniker came from.

Now, he’s sitting across the table in the town’s inn lobby; his partner-in-crime, Shinji Nishiya, nervously wrings his hands beside him. Shinji’s been in the business longer, originally taking Keigo in as an apprentice. However, Keigo’s proved to be the better huntsman…more cunning…more successful.

“Where’d you see it?” Keigo hums, organizing the arrows back into the quiver.

“The hill over by the Todoroki property. We haven’t had a wolf sighting in seven years, sir. This is…truly disturbing,” The civilian stammers, drinking from his pint.

“What was it doing?” Shinji leans in.

“Howling.”

“Just howling?” Keigo raises an eyebrow, “No blood dripping from its jaws? No prey in sight? No victims?”

“Well…there were sheep nearby,” The man mutters.

“And they weren’t running?” Keigo finds that hard to believe.

“N-no. They seemed…calm.”

“Hm,” Keigo leans back in the chair, tapping the heels of his boots.

“Well, thank you for your time. We’ll take care of it,” Keigo pushes back his chair with a screeching noise before strutting out the door, “I’ll be back for the reward.”

Shinji scrambles to follow him.

“Takami. I’ve never heard of prey animals being calm around a wolf,” Shinji whispers heatedly, “Do you think it was just someone playing a trick?”

“Wouldn’t hurt to check out,” Keigo stretches, feeling for the silver dagger in his back pocket.

“You might wanna take this, just in case,” He whips it out effortlessly and hands the hilt to Shinji. “We’ve still got the rest of the day before we go hunting. Stay alert.”

…

Touya wakes up in the barn, naked, surrounded by his flock of sheep.

Fuck.

He was supposed to be on the floor of his bedroom.

Shoto didn’t do his job.

Touya looks around, eyes lighting up when he sees his backup pile of clothes behind a bale of hay.

Frantically, he gets dressed as fast as he can while the sheep nuzzle him for attention.

Surprisingly, the flock adores Touya.

He’s protected them from wolves, coyotes, and bandits…both in and out of his werewolf form.

Becoming a shepherd seemed like the most logical line of work for a werewolf in disguise. So, Touya offered to care for the town folks' sheep, loving them as if they were his own.

The other guy apparently got spooked by a wolf…rather conveniently .

So, Touya took up the mantle the next day, occupying the abandoned farm and living in the small home on the property with his little brother.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Touya waits outside, the breeze blowing through his white hair.

“Password,” His little brother’s voice seeps through the weathered wood.

“Shoto. You’ve gotta start locking me in my room again,” Touya scowls as his little brother lets him back into the house, bolting the door behind him.

“I don’t like it when you whine and scratch at the door,” Shoto replies flatly, “It’s annoying.”

“Y’know what’s also annoying? Waking up with sheep noses in my face,” Touya huffs, examining his arms for any mysterious bruises or scratches he might’ve gained in the night.

“Not my fault they like you,” Shoto simply shrugs.

“I’ll be back. I gotta turn them out,” Touya sighs, grabbing his crook by the door, “Stay here.”

“Not like I have anywhere else to go on my own,” Shoto mumbles, staring out the window at the town in the distance.

…

Touya yawns, a wolf-like whine peaking at the end as he runs his tongue over his teeth, careful not to cut it on his unusually sharp canines.

“C’mon,” He clicks his tongue, urging the sheep in a line out into the open, green field. The sun hangs high over the sky, and Touya can feel the heat on his back through the thin tunic.

Suddenly, the wind shifts.

Touya smells intruders; he hears unfamiliar footfalls on the property.

The hair on the back of his neck stands on end.

That’s never good.

He feels a growl in the back of his throat.

He looks over his shoulder, and his superhuman vision practically zooms in on the figure approaching.

Amber eyes that glitter in the sunlight…muscles hidden beneath leather armor…blonde hair that waves effortlessly in the breeze.

‘Oh, he’s pretty ,’ Touya thinks to himself, feeling his heart thud powerfully in his ribcage as the man approaches.

Touya’s never thought about having a mate.

He’s never found anyone he thought was remotely attractive…not that he’s ever tried to actually court anyone before.

He wasn’t exactly “courting” material.

Yet…something about this stranger…screams mate to him.

“Hey there!” The stranger waves, strutting toward him.

Touya simply nods, completely ignoring the fact that there are never strangers on the property, seemingly transfixed by the beauty before him.

His boldness seizes him by the throat.

Apparently, the wolf part of his brain doesn’t want to waste any time.

“You wanna grab a drink at the inn?” Touya blurts, his lips twisting into a goofy flirtatious smile. Keigo’s surprised by the forwardness.

He’s just met this man, hasn’t even introduced himself yet, and now he wants to grab drinks?

Keigo looks him up and down; he’s not bad looking. Not by a long shot. Is he trying to throw him off the trail?

“I’d love to, but I’ve gotta take care of the wolf first,” Keigo grins, puffing out his chest and tightening the straps in his armor.

Touya’s heart drops.

“Sorry?” He coughs, swallowing his nerves.

“The wolf. There was a sighting. To be honest, I’m surprised no one let you know. It was on your property. The hill closest to the village. You better keep your sheep in at night from now on,” Keigo replies, concerned.

Touya’s hands grip his wooden crook tightly.

“My sheep are just fine ,” He mutters, his sudden cold tone catching Keigo off guard.

Suspicious.

“You haven’t had any go missing? Seen any markings? Prints?” Keigo straightens his sling of arrows on his back.

“Nothing,” Touya grits his teeth.

Why did he have to be a damned hunter?

This guy who for whatever reason has some kind of magnetic pull to Touya…is a hunter .

Touya hadn’t encountered any since he’d moved.

He’d kept the monsters out himself since they moved here, so there was never any need for them.

He kept the town safe, and this is how they repay him?

By turning their mysterious “luck” into a hunter’s game?

Touya’s gotten too lax with shifting in the moonlight recently; he should’ve been more careful.

“Do you set traps?” Keigo’s eyebrow raises, curious piqued about the shepherd’s fearlessness.

“No,” Touya says flatly, though part of him wishes he would’ve lied.

“And you haven’t had a wolf sighting in seven years?”

Touya shakes his head.

Keigo’s eyes narrow, trying to pick apart Touya’s body language.

The way his turquoise eyes seem to hold the ocean itself within them. The way his hair blows in the breeze. Before his words turned cold, his smile was rather…charming.

If he wasn’t so wary, Keigo would definitely take him up on that drink.

Still…the wolf was sighted on his land.

He’s definitely a suspect, but the sheep are unharmed.

That never happens.

Wolves always leave carnage in their wake…whether it be the mangled, half-devoured bodies of livestock or people.

Keigo lifts his chin, a small act of defiance and dominance that makes Touya bristle.

“Would you mind if I had a look around the property?” Keigo holds out his gloved hand for Touya to shake, “I’m Hawks. Wolf Hunter Hawks.”

‘Wolf Hunter.’

Touya’s eyes widen in terror at the specific title.

His father was a fabled wolf hunter .

There’s a beat of awkward silence; it lasts longer than it should.

Touya gruffly takes Keigo’s hand, shaking it. His gaze is dark.

“Todoroki. Touya Todoroki. Don’t disturb my flock.”

…

Touya’s numb to the change; it’s practically painless for him. Just reforming bones, reshaping skin, and growing fur that will be completely shed. It’s nothing too extravagant.

At least, in Touya’s mind, it isn’t a big deal. After all, he’s still himself after the change. He’s still sound of mind, whereas most werewolves blame their “instincts” as an excuse. Touya knows those “instincts” are real reflections of true nature; the wolf takes away inhibitions. He’s experienced some of that, sure, but it’s never involved ripping and tearing.

Night falls, and Touya’s restless.

He’s being actively hunted.

Keigo’s out there…somewhere in the night.

The full moonlight touches his skin, and Touya rolls his shoulders back as he feels the change taking over his body.

It only lasts a few minutes before he’s overwhelmingly cramped in his own bedroom, ears almost touching the ceiling and tail painfully curled in against his dresser.

He has to stay inside this room.

It’s too dangerous with the wolf hunter in town…plus…he’s probably already aroused suspicion.

Still…the outside…it’s calling him.

The cool night air…the wind in his fur…the open night sky…

Oh, shit.

He left the window open.

…

“The shepherd? That doesn’t make any sense,” Shinji mutters as he absentmindedly feeds his horse a carrot. Most of the town has turned in for the night, and Shinji’s tending to their horses at the inn stables.

“I’m telling you, man. I don’t get it either. I don’t know if it’s him , but sneaking back onto the property is my best bet at killing it,” Keigo huffs as he finishes counting his arrows and cleaning his bow.

“You sure you don’t want me to come?” Shinji asks, almost sounding a bit dejected.

“I need you here in case I’m wrong. The wolf could attack the village,” Keigo calmly orders, oblivious to Shinji’s thirst to finally be a part of the main mission.

“Yes sir,” Shinji sighs, scratching his horse’s neck as Keigo makes his way down the path toward the Todoroki farmland.

…

It doesn’t take long for Keigo to find the hill that borders the edge of the property. A patch of woods flanks it, making it the prime spot for a wolf to howl at the moon.

He can see the house on the property from here, too.

Is it stalking the shepherd?

His family?

Or is his sneaking suspicion correct?

Keigo tiptoes through the dip in the valley. The wind is blowing toward him. Perfect.

It won’t smell him.

“ Awoooooo! ”

There it is.

A breathtaking snow-white wolf appears at the crest, throwing its head back to howl at the moon. The sound is melancholy, as if it’s the last time. One last hurrah from the wolf.

‘Little does it know,’ Keigo thinks with a smirk.

He lines up the shot.

He has a clear view, as if the stars have aligned specifically for this moment.

The wolf looks down, making direct eye contact.

“NO!”

SHIIK!

“DAMNIT!” Keigo swears as he’s tackled to the ground, the arrow missing the wolf by a few hairs and landing in a tree. He struggles to push himself up, only to come face-to-face with Shoto Todoroki.

“You can’t!” Shoto sobs, “You can’t just come here and do that!”

Keigo’s jaw drops.

What the hell is wrong with this kid? Doesn’t he understand that Keigo’s trying to protect him?

“You need to get inside! You’re the perfect size for it to snatch up!” Keigo hisses, grabbing Shoto by the collar as he turns to look back at the hill.

The wolf is gone.

Keigo scrambles to grab his bow and slings his pack of arrows back over his shoulder.

“He’s just singing. He likes to do that sometimes,” Shoto whines.

Keigo blinks at Shoto like he has three heads.

“ He ? Does he do that often ?” Keigo scoffs, walking toward the Todoroki house, dragging Shoto with him. “You should be inside !”

“Please! Don’t hurt him! Lemme go !” Shoto cries out.

A deafening snarl rips through the night air, directly behind Keigo.

Keigo freezes, daring a look behind him.

The wolf’s ears are forward, fangs dripping, head held high, and he’s staring deliberately into Keigo’s soul with two brilliant turquoise eyes.

Keigo releases his grip on Shoto, holding his hands up.

That’s why he got violent.

Shoto scrambles to stand in front of the wolf, holding his hands out as if to protect him from Keigo. It’s adorable considering the wolf is twice Shoto’s size.

“He was just trying to protect me! Please!” Shoto sobs.

“Kid. Don’t. Move,” Keigo whispers, face nearly as white as the fur of the wolf in front of him.

“He won’t hurt me,” Shoto insists, though Keigo isn’t sure if he’s talking to him or to the wolf.

“Baaaaaa!”

Keigo’s eyes flit toward the sound as he sees the flock of sheep nearing the commotion. Adrenaline surges through him.

Now’s his chance while the wolf is distracted by a buffet.

But, when he turns back, there isn’t hunger in his eyes. Only the familiar desire to protect what is important to him.

Shoto backs up, grabbing onto the wolf’s front leg and latching on like a leech.

“It’s okay, Touya,” Shoto whispers, and the wolf slowly relaxes, sitting down with a resounding THUMP!

“Touya?” Keigo echoes as the confirmation cuts through his heart like a knife.

“Please don’t hurt my brother! He only hurts people who are trying to hurt people! Promise!” Shoto insists.

Touya looks from Shoto to Keigo, apprehension in his body language.

Keigo stares into the wolf’s eyes…and he can’t help but feel drawn to him.

Is it some kind of power?

Some kind of hypnotism?

The way the starlight reflects in the cerulean is absolutely beautiful.

The wolf snorts, affirmative and authoritative.

“He wants you to put your stuff away,” Shoto relays, and the blood drains from Keigo’s face.

Of course the beast wants him completely defenseless.

If the kid isn’t afraid, it should be okay, right?

With shaking hands, Keigo carefully sets his bow down, dipping his head to slip off his quiver.

WHAM!

In one full sweep of his paw, the wolf sends his weapons flying.

Shit.

This was a mistake.

He should’ve called Shinji for backup.

He-

Suddenly, all of Keigo’s worries vanish into thin air when he feels a giant tongue obnoxiously licking up the side of his face, lifting him a few inches off the ground.

Keigo recoils, cringing and hastily trying to wipe the drool off of his face as Shoto begins laughing at him.

“That must mean he likes you!” Shoto giggles, and, suddenly, the wolf’s ears are pinned to his head, staring down his nose at Shoto as if he’s revealed some dark secret.

The wolf whines ; Touya wishes he could speak in a language that Shoto and Keigo could understand.

“I’ve promised one of the townsfolk already that I’d get rid of you. They’re gonna want proof. They always do,” Keigo mutters, running a hand through his hair. “Christ… I’ve never met a… nice wolf? Is that what I would call you? A nice werewolf? That sounds so stupid. That sounds insane !” Keigo begins pacing.

“ Wawar ,” Touya makes a sound like he’s agreeing with Keigo in some sort of garbled bark.

“I can’t believe I’m talking to a werewolf,” Keigo groans, “I’m making conversation with a werewolf. I’ve dedicated my whole life to killing your kind.”

A solemn growl rumbles in Touya’s throat.

“Baaaa!”

Their heads turn as one of the sheep from the flock saunters out of the group. Touya had to shave the mats out of its wool earlier this month, so it looks a little patchy.

Shoto’s eyes suddenly light up.

“You need proof? I have an idea!”

…

WHOMP!

“That look familiar to you?” Keigo grins as he slams the white pelt onto the table of the inn’s lobby.

“Wow…you actually did it!” The man guffaws, pulling out a small sack of coins and sliding them over the table to Keigo. “You slayed the beast!”

“All in a day’s work. Now, if you’ll excuse me,” Keigo nods before turning on his heel and sauntering over to the bar.

Touya’s already sitting there, an empty seat with a drink beside him.

“You’re lucky Shinji knows how to sew fur into a pelt,” Keigo whispers as he sits on the stool, picking up his cup.

“You sure they won’t figure it out?” Touya says just loud enough for Keigo to hear.

“Nah. So long as they don’t spot you again,” Keigo reassures him.

Touya takes a long drink from his glass, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Good thing there’s no other wolves around here. That bald spot is gonna be embarrassing until it grows out again,” Touya laughs under his breath, and Keigo grins as he sips from his own drink.

“So…you gonna move on to the next town?” Touya asks candidly, turning to face Keigo in the dim light of the inn’s bar.

Keigo sighs. “Maybe…I dunno. Might stick around for a bit. Try to be more of a monster researcher than a monster hunter. I feel like there aren’t enough books about what we’re really up against. I feel like I shouldn't be hunting something I don’t understand,” Keigo replies as he sips from his drink, and his words make something flutter in Touya’s gut.

“Researcher, huh?” Touya clicks his tongue, “And what exactly are you gonna be researching?”

“Werewolf behavior seems like a good start,” Keigo teases, and Touya raises an eyebrow.

“And how does your… accomplice feel about this?” Touya looks over his shoulder to see Shinji staring at him with wide eyes through the window. As soon as he makes eye contact with Touya, he gasps and disappears from sight.

“He’ll get over it,” Keigo shrugs, downing the rest of his drink before slamming it down onto the counter. “So what made you decide shepherd ?”

“Perfect cover…plus, my little brother likes to talk to the animals. He reads to them n’ shit,” Touya yawns, “Can’t exactly afford to send him to the private tutor, so reading to the sheep helps.”

“Are they yours?”

“Nah, but they might as well be. Owners never come check on ‘em. Just come to harvest the wool. I get a cut from the sales,” Touya explains, “Think they like me though. The white fur makes me look more like one a’ them.”

“Does it hurt?” Keigo asks, curious.

“The first time did. Not since then.”

“Do you-”

“Do you wanna head back to my place if you’re gonna continue your research ?” Touya says bluntly, his eyes shimmering in the sunrise.

Keigo blushes.

“Can I go get my journal?”

…

Touya sighs as he swings a leg over the fence, stumbling into the pen with his sheep as the sun crests over the horizon.

“Watch the splinters,” He calls over his shoulder as Keigo attempts to follow his lead, almost falling face-first into the pile of mud as he staggers after Touya.

“So. Day in the life of a werewolf?” Keigo licks the tip of his feather pen, ready to begin writing.

“I feed the sheep.”

“Huh?”

Keigo looks up, realizing they’re at a weathered barn. Touya hefts up an oversized bale in one hand with inhuman strength, hoisting it high above his head.

“I feed the sheep,” He repeats.

Touya leads him to a separate pasture, unlocking the gate with his other hand before launching the hay bale into the middle of the pasture.

The sheep slowly file in on both sides of him with some stragglers standing around, staring at Touya.

“Okay? Feed the sheep. And?” Keigo gestures with his hands as if prompting Touya to continue.

“Baaa!” One of the sheep bleats impatiently, nearly bowling Touya over as it headbutts him in the leg.

“ Clearly , they don’t like it when someone else has your attention,” Keigo chuckles as Touya attempts to shoo the sheep away.

“Yeah,” Touya hums, seemingly oblivious to the blatant flirting as he closes the gate.

“So, lemme get to the real questions…why’d you lick my face?” Keigo asks point-blank.

“Wolf instincts,” Touya lies, cheeks cherry red, “Wolf-thing-I-dunno.”

Keigo’s eyes narrow in amusement as he scribbles:

New mission: Seduce the WereWolf

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