#standing pouch price

[e-m-ma-lmfao]

can I request some cute fluff with Astarion - I think something cute would be tav’s never worn a dress and they put one on and Astarion is just mindblow by how good they look? 🥺

maybe he can do some chivalrous acts as well~

She Looks Breathtaking

pairing : astarion x (fem) reader

summary : astarion has never seen you in a dress, you haven’t been in one since you were taken from baldur's gate. you both find it hard to hide your excitement.

warnings : none :)

authors note: I hope you like this anon! (first, i finally played baldur's gate. second, i'm going to try and pump out the requests that I haven't gotten to.)

“Oh! Look how pretty this is!” 

You turn your head to look towards Karlach’s booming voice, much too loud for the small space you were in. She held up a dress, something you hadn’t thought about wearing in months. You hadn’t had any important events to attend.

Walking over to her side, you take the fabric between your fingers. “It’s beautiful..”

“You should get it. I think you’d look great, and I bet Astarion would like it too.” She nudged at your side, teasing. Your face flushed, and you ran your fingers along the hem of the dress, avoiding Karlachs gaze. She likes to poke fun at the obvious crush you had developed on Astarion, and everytime she did you regretted telling her more and more. 

Eventually, you find a small paper attached to the fabric showing the price of the dress, eyes widening at the disgustingly low price. 

“When would I even get a chance to wear it? It would go to waste, just weigh my bag down.” Karlach huffs, taking the price tag and reading it for herself.

“Are you kidding me? Even if you don’t wear it, you’d be a fool to ignore this price. Maybe you will attend some noble party when we get to Baldur's Gate!” She was way too excited but her energy almost made you agree with her, the dress was so cheap even if it went unworn for a long time. And you hadn’t worn one in..you couldn’t even remember.

You thought about it for a moment before moving for your coin pouch, pouring the amount into your hand and handing the coins to the trader. They slip out of your hand much faster than you'd care to admit, hiding your excitement from Karlach proving to be a challenge. “Don’t say a word to anyone, Karlach, I mean it.”

“Fine. But I better get to see you in it, at least try it on for me when we get back to camp!” You shake your head, amused by Karlachs childish antics, but you yourself can’t help but feel a little bit excited by the idea of dressing up. 

When you returned to camp that night you had forgotten about the dress in your bag, slipping your mind amidst the constant thought of being attacked or having to talk your way out of a hostile situation. 

So when Karlach came bouncing over to your side, your tent tucked away in a corner secluded from most of your party to keep your privacy, you could only give her a confused look. She seemed so excited and you had no idea why, and she was beginning to return the confusion.

“You gonna put on the dress or just make me stand here?” Oh! You let your bag fall to the ground, crouching down to rummage through its contents, searching for the dress. 

When you found it you laid it over your bag, standing back up to remove the leather from your body. You could hear Karlachs giggles as you shimmied out of your much too tight leather pants, only to have to pull the dress over your body right after.

Your hair was up, but you untied it and allowed your hair to fall over your shoulders. When you turned back to her, she stared at you with awe. “Woah..”

“What?” 

“You look..nice.” You giggled, which made her laugh along with you, both of you unaware of the approaching footsteps. His eyes trace along your figure, and he allows himself a moment of greediness to take in the full effect you have. You seem so happy, a smile appearing on his cheeks as he watches you smile gleefully and so..so..carefree. You're finally allowing yourself to have fun, and not worrying about protecting everyone else around you. And Gods.. you’re breathtaking. 

He would never admit to a living soul, or a non-living one for that matter, but he had been infatuated with you since the moment you asked him to join your party. You made him weak, and with his newfound freedom he wasn’t sure what the correct way to deal with it was. Obviously he could use his charm to lure you into his bedroll, but he wanted more, he wanted to be the reason you felt giddy enough to show your teeth with a smile. He wanted to be the reason you laughed, and fooled around, the reason you felt safe enough to have fun. 

He takes a deep breath in, to regain his confidence and charm, and he proceeds towards the two of you.  

Until his voice filled your ears and caused your eyes to shoot in his direction, “Well well..don’t you look nice.” 

“Astarion!” He approached the two of you slowly, staring at you and paying no mind to Karlach’s presence. 

“I’m gonna leave you two alone..” Karlach let out an awkward chuckle, making eye contact with you with wiggly eyebrows before sneaking away.

You look back towards Astarion, who is unable to make eye contact with you as his eyes roam along your body, preoccupied. You're certain he doesn't even realise Karlach has left from beside the two of you.

“Where did you get this pretty thing?” He looks back up to meet your eyes, smirk big enough to show his fangs which sends a nervous shiver through your body. A tingle in your neck reminds you of the favour you allowed him. Your arms cross against your chest, suddenly more nervous in his presence than ever before. 

“Just something I picked up from a merchant..” 

“In all the time I’ve traveled by your side , I’ve never seen you look so.. elegant.” 

“Wow thanks..” You roll your eyes with a snort, crossing your arms tighter across your chest.

“Now c’mon darling..you know I mean you no disrespect. Only pointing out the obvious. May I?” At first you're unsure what he’s even asking permission for, but when you see his hands reaching out to touch you, you give him a nod. 

He doesn’t hesitate, hands finding your hips. “See…usually you’re wearing that menacing leather, always so serious.” Your face scrunches up at his words, you’ve never thought your armour to be very menacing nor did you believe you were ‘always serious’. Only when the situation called for it. 

The heat of his skin can be felt even through the fabric. His thin fingers squeeze into the plush of your hips, then run along your waist, feeling the fabric between his fingers. “But right now, in this dress, with your hair undone,” He brings his hand up to run his fingers through your hairs, “You look so free. You’re beautiful darling..so beautiful.” 

You feel your face relax, and it only softens more when Astarions eyes meet yours once more and his pupils are blown . The softest smile blossoms on his face, which turns out to be contagious cause not soon after a cheek burning smile is on your face. Face hot as you look into his eyes, his hands still on your waist, thumbs massaging your skin through your dress. 

“I should take it off, I don’t want to get it dirty.” 

“Could you humor me?”

“Humor you? How so, Astarion?” 

“Keep it on, just for an hour. It’s been a long time since I spent an evening with a woman as beautiful as you..” 

[neckromantics]

Spoiling Astarion?

Bringing him back little things that remind you of him whenever he stays back at camp just so he knows you're still thinking of him while you're apart.

Astarion being so used to receiving little gifts from your travels that when you arrive back at camp, he's standing by your tent with his palm outstretched just waiting to see what you've brought him this time. The giddy little grin that's plastered on his face when you fork over the shiniest object you could get your paws on. All varying in degrees of monetary value, for sure, but all with a unique story of their own.

A couple of old coins from an ancient crypt. The entrance of which you'd all stumbled upon when Karlach punched a wall of a cave in victory after a particularly tough battle, only to come back with a handful of bones and cobwebs. The look of shock on her face when the entire wall came crumbling down on the group was enough to have you in stitches, entirely too weak from laughter to stand. You laid beneath the rubble for so long that Gale had assumed you developed a concussion and needed rescuing.

The PRETTIEST, crystal goblet that you'd stolen right from under a rich lady's nose under the guise that you were testing her drink for poison. You'd downed her ale in two gulps the second you exited the building. Was in the middle of patting yourself on the back for being oh-so cunning when you nearly fell on your ass. It was a sick, twisted coincidence that her ale did, in fact, turn out to be poisoned. But, at least you had a spare antidote on you that you gulped down before Shadowheart could find you in such a state. (And make fun of you, no doubt.)

A set of handmade jewelry– not stolen this time, if you can believe it. Wyll had pointed out the small shop to you while the two of you were out shopping for supplies. Said something about how it might be a good idea to pick out a new pair of socks since you'd been complaining about how holey yours had become after so much running around. Which was a good idea, truly– but the second you'd set eyes on the shop window, you knew what you wanted. A matching necklace and earring set, lovingly crafted with silver chain, so very delicate. So very understated that one could almost miss it among the rest of the more garish examples that sat alongside. Three, very small, opalescent stones shone so pretty at you beneath the sunlight that you could hardly look away. You would have given the shopkeep your left kidney just to see Astarion wearing them, but thankfully, it wasn't necessary. (You became so feral in your excitement to hear the very reasonable price that you nearly threw your entire gold pouch at the clerk's head and then kissed him on the mouth.)

You're an eager one. Astarion never has to wait– always receives his gifts before you can so much as slip your travel pack off of your shoulders. He goes real quiet for a moment. Has this far away look while gazing down at whatever it is, turning it over in his palm a couple of times to really study it.

The two of you sit together while you go through the rest of the day's spoils, and he listens while you tell him all about how you found today's special little trinket. Insists you spare no details in how you acquired it. (Unless any of those details are boring, dear. Do spare him of those.)

You know that there have to be some things he enjoys more than others. You know that there has to be some things you've given him that he outright dislikes. There have been a few occasions where he'd poked fun at you for bringing back something silly. Like "The roundest pebble you'd ever seen, Astarion, look at it roll!" or "This drawing of the two of you that you'd doodled on a stray sheet of parchment when you couldn't find anything else no matter how hard you tried!". BUT he has never refused anything you've chosen to bring back for him.

He thinks it's rather sweet that you've dedicated yourself to proving you still think of him when he stays behind. Wonders why you are the way that you are. Sort of loves you to death for it. Definitely does NOT invest in a bag of holding for everything once it all begins to stack up.

Definitely doesn't insist on you taking one half of the jewelry set so you always have a little piece of one another on you at all times. That would be ridiculous. (Earrings or necklace, darling?)

Sequel?

[harga1451vendorgrosir]

Standing Pouch Bening Jogja Ô831418Ô1766 (WA)

Laman berikut ini merupakan halaman yg mengandung wawasan tentang aneka jenis barang barang standing pouch bening jogja. Amat penuh hal yang menjadikan wawasan berikut ini sangat dibutuhkan. Mungkin guna putra-putri pendidikan, penelitian, tugas misalpun hanya guna mengisi saat luang aja. Website ini amat di sarankan agar manusia gampang dalam mengakses produk yang diinginkan. Terdapatnya tehnologi yang semakin canggih waktu berikut ini, orang amat praktis guna menemukan sesuatu yang dia-dia inginkan. Tak terkecuali orang-orang pedalaman, mereka serta dengan simpel mempunyai apa yang mereka inginkan, karna sumber tehonologi telah tersebar diberbagai lokasi mana saja. Untuk itu, silakan baca website berikut ini, dimanasaja atau tempo kapan saja, sebab informasi ini begitu kilat, jelas, praktis dipahami, dan tiada memakan penuh saat. Andai kamu mau menyediakan masukan misalpun teguran, silahkan tulis pada kolom komentar, karena kita selalu berharap teguran atau masukan tentang kau, agar wawasan ini kedepannya lebih baik. Atau anda serta dapat menghubungi kita dengan cara telfon sms di nomor yg udah tersedia pada laman situs kita. Kemasan standing pouch sebagai macam packaging paling populer yg umum digunakan guna barang-barang umkm memang memiliki banyak keunggulan. Kecuali mampu bisa berdiri sendiri, mempunyai zipper, serta mutu bahan yang bisa mengawal barang, standing pouch bisa membuat mudah dikau bagi jual serta membuat produk keliatan lagi menarik. Beberapa barang lebih-lebih benar-benar keliatan lagi menonjol kali menggunakan standing pouch.

standing pouch untuk 100 gr

Kemajuan usaha kopi pada indonesia muat oke. Perihal ini bisa dilihat jumlah pecinta kopi dan kafe yang makin banyak. Penikmat kopi tak cuma menggali jenis kopi terbaik tapi kadang juga melihat kemasan untuk pertimbangan sebagai membeli kopi atau tidak. Melihat fenomena tersebut, penjual kopi berkehendak tiada berkehendak kudu tampil inovatif. Dia-dia butuh membuat bungkus kopi yang menarik jadi dapat menggaet minat customer. Salah satu caranya ialah dg memakai kemasan yang tepat. Desain merek yg akan menghiasi kemasan tersebut serta utama sebagai dipikirkan. Laman ini ialah laman yg mengisi pengetahuan mengenai aneka jenis produk produk standing pouch plastik buram. Amat penuh perihal yg menjadikan wawasan berikut ini amat dibutuhkan. Mungkin guna putra-putri perguruan, riset, mandat ataupun cuma untuk mengisi tempo lengang saja. Web ini amat pada sarankan supaya insan praktis pada mengakses barang yg diinginkan. Adanya teknologi yang makin rumit waktu ini, insan amat simpel untuk mengakses sesuatu yang dia-dia inginkan. Tak terkecuali orang-orang pedalaman, mereka serta dengan gampang memiliki apa yg dia-dia inginkan, karna sumber tehonologi telah tersebar diberbagai daerah mana saja. Sebagai itu, monggo baca web ini, dimanapun / saat kapan saja, sebab wawasan ini amat singkat, jelas, gampang dipahami, dan tiada mengkonsumsi melimpah tempo. Apabila kamu berkehendak memberikan masukan ataupun kritikan, monggo tulis pada tabel opini, karena kita selalu berharap teguran / masukan tentang kau, agar pengetahuan ini kedepannya lebih baik. / anda serta bisa men-japri kita dg cara telfon sms di nomor yang telah tersedia pada laman website kita.

standing pouch spout

Kemasan terdiri sekitar aneka jenis jenis. Tiap-tiap jenis mempunyai ekses, kekurangan, dan fungsinya yang tidak sama. Produk yg terdapat pun tidak bisa dikemas lewat esa jenis packaging sekedar. Ringkasnya, tiap-tiap barang punya kemasan yg tepat serta karakterisik sendiri. Lain produk, lain lebih skema mengemasnya. Salah tunggal yang menarik sebagai dibahas ialah packaging pelastik standing pouch.

[ghostkennedy]

You Lure Me In

~Captain John Price x fem! Reader~

MY FIRST EVER KO-FI COMMISSION!! This is my 3000 word request option! Please note that this is catered to specific requests made by the buyer: pet names they like, kinks they like, body type specifications, etc.

Word: 3591

Content warnings: age gap (price in late 30s, reader in early 20s), sub and dom dynamics, primal play dynamics, reader being chased through woods, anxious reader, daddy issues, degrading/praise mix, a bit of manipulation, so many feminine pet names, size kink, reader is petite with small breasts, possessiveness, edging, oral (f receiving), overstimulation, p in v sex, mating press, tummy bulge, creampie

!!!!!!GHOSTKENNEDY IS STRICTLY 18+! MINORS DNI!!!!!!!!

He stands behind you, the back of your head against his firm chest. You can feel how hard his cock is against your lower back. You don’t have to face him to know all of his attention is focused on you. His presence alone demands obedience and submission, and you’d be a fool to try and repel it.

“Patience…you don’t wanna do anything stupid,” he mumbles darkly into your ear. His calloused hands graze the skin of your exposed arms, causing goosebumps to rise. The roughness of his skin harshly contrasts the gentleness of his touch. His intentions–obvious and impure, down to the very root of them. His fingers trace little circles into your shoulders, a false sense of security, but you know where this will end up. Where it always ends up.

Captain Price leans down, pulling your hair back behind your ear, his lips grazing the shell of it. “Run if you’d like, little bunny. Feeling quite generous, I’ll give you a head start.”

You turn your head and gaze into his blue eyes. That thousand yard stare gone as he focuses on you and only you. You wanna melt beneath the intensity of his stare. It feels like he’s taking you apart with his eyes, breaking you down to the measly atoms that compose the simplest pieces of your being. You want to cower, you want to give yourself over to him, but your fight or flight reflex is kicking in–just as he wants it to, just as he knows it will.

Useless in resisting it, you push yourself off of him and run straight for the pitch black woods ahead. Running is pointless. Hiding is pointless. He’s a professionally trained hunter and killer. He merely likes the chase. He could easily reach you and overpower you in a mere seconds, but he gives you the head start to satisfy the piece of himself that commands him to be a predator hunting his prey.

You’re already stumbling over the brush of the woods, massive roots breaking through the uneven ground, slopping through the mud, and the low hanging branches–all causing you to be hindered. Your heart is in your throat, your lungs feel as if they’re constricting in on themselves, squeezing tightly like a kid’s juice pouch. But deep in your tummy, through the adrenaline and fear, is an excitement growing from the feeling of being his prey.

Your bare legs and arms are being torn up as you run haphazardly through the trees. Only barriers protecting your skin being a tiny sundress and sandals. You may as well be naked at this point, which would really render you useless. That man wouldn’t give you the chance to run if you were naked–pouncing on you immediately, weak to his own animalistic desires.

Your tiny and weak frame is nothing in comparison to his toned and well trained body. You know he has to be hot on your trail already. You’re sweating and tired after barely having run at all, and wherever he is, you know he hasn’t used an ounce of his endless energy. It’s all merely childsplay to him.

You can’t keep your mind from wandering… wandering to what he’ll do to you–what he’ll put you through–when he catches you. Will he punish you? There’s no question on if he’ll hurt you, oh no. You wonder to what extent it’s going to hurt because he loves giving pain, and you love receiving it.

Before your brain can catch up with your body, pain radiates in your limbs and chest. You roll over from your tummy to your back to alleviate the pain, but to no avail. You hit the muddy ground hard, the wind knocked out of your lungs and you struggle to take an adequate breath. 

You cross your arms over your chest in an attempt to comfort yourself. You rub your sore muscles as you focus on catching your breath. You realize you’re sobbing harshly and not at all quietly. 

“Tsk. You make it too easy.” You practically jump out of your skin, digging your nails into the ground beneath you, ready to push yourself up and take off again. But a heavy, dirty boot presses into your chest, trapping you against the ground. You grab his ankle and try to pull him off of you, but the more you struggle, the harder he presses against you. 

He takes a long drag of his cigar before flinging it into the mud behind you. You clench your thighs together as he releases a puff of smoke between the two of you. You’ve always hated smokers, grossed out by it since you were a child, but he somehow makes it hot. Has your pussy throbbing beneath your flimsy little dress that could barely be called that. So thin and short that it was basically a slip.

He removes his boot from your chest and you finally take a deep breath, filling your lungs and alleviating the burning for air within them. Before you have time to blink, he’s straddling your hips. His knees on either side of your hips and his hands wrapped around your wrists and pulling them up above your head, securing you in place. You could try to struggle to get free, but he’s left you very little wiggle room beneath him.

You’re completely and utterly at this mercy, again. A position you’ve found yourself in (happily and willingly) countless times. You trust him even when you shouldn’t. Trust him no matter how much he pushes your limits. You relinquish control to him like you're passing him a piece of gum. Maybe if your daddy had shown you more attention as a child, you wouldn’t beg for Captain Price’s approval and praise like a desperate whore. Maybe. Wouldn’t be out here seeking out the oh so sweet male validation that only an older man can fulfill–that hollowness your dad gave to you from failing to love you properly.

Or maybe it’s entirely biological–primal. The way you yearn for him and the way he needs you with every fiber of his being. Your coupling should’ve never happened. Him in his late 30s, you in your early 20s. An entire relationship built of red flags and toxic dynamics. You wonder if maybe it was the same delicious shade of red as the apple in the garden of Eden. Could Eve have been as helpless to resist it as you are in resisting John?

But God, what you feel for him is raw you’d dare to say it’s even biblical in a sense. Your flesh and his intertwined in some profound way that your bodies were destined and created for. But you were never the religious type–controlled by your sinful ways and desires. Perhaps you’re looking for any reason to explain the way your pussy aches and drenches itself just thinking about this dirty old man. Perhaps he’s the deity you’ve prayed to all along–your very own God in the flesh.

“Look at you. Dirty fucking girl,” He looks over your body, almost like he’s appraising you. His cock somehow grows harder at the sight of you with mud down the front of your white dress, scratches and dirt littering your legs and arms, and dirt across your cheek that you must’ve accidentally spread while wiping away sweat. “Gonna love ruining you.”

Your voices come out barely above a whisper, “Thought I was already ruined.” He groans in response to your words. How broken and little you sound.

“Mm, not enough, sweetheart. Going to destroy you from the inside out. How’s that sound?” You don’t mean to, but you rut your hips up into him in search of friction. It’s instinctive. He knows what he does to you when he speaks to you this way. And he always uses it to his advantage.

“Haven’t even started touching you yet and you’ve already gone dumb. Trained you so well, haven’t I? Yeah…just a dumb little girl who needs me to show her what she needs, is that it?”

He holds your wrists in one of his large hands as the other cups your chin, holding your head in place so you’re forced to stare at him face to face.

“Yes, Captain,” you whisper out before biting your lip, trying to keep little noises from slipping past your lips at his little touches. You feel properly defiled and he hasn’t even really begun his destruction on your body.

He grabs your face, pinching your cheeks together tightly and forcing your mouth open, looking like a fish out of water. “What have I told you about keeping those little noises of yours from me? Wanna hear every pathetic noise that comes from those pretty lips. You haven’t forgotten, have you? Maybe I need to teach you again. Punishment could be very beneficial for a dumb bunny such as yourself.”

He releases your cheeks and you whine out, “Noooooooooo… I’m sorry. Didn’t mean it, wasn’t thinkin’. ‘M sorry,” Your words slur in your needy state. The sound of your own voice has your cheeks burning with embarrassment. 

He chuckles at you meanly. “You never think, sweetheart. All you know how to do is be a whiny little brat, isn’t that right?”

You whine out your objections, causing a smirk to grow on his face as you prove exactly his point. Your eyes meet his and the mean look on his face causes your bottom lip to start trembling.

He leans forward and leaves gentle kisses across your damp cheeks. “That’s why you have me, isn’t it? Need someone to do all the thinking while you sit there lookin’ pretty. Just taking what I give you,” he mumbles against your skin.

“Please,” You whisper out, your hands clinging to his chest. One of his hands caresses your sides appreciatively. The thumb of his free hand wipes up your tears before rubbing your lip, causing you to part them for him.

He slips his thumb into your mouth and your lips immediately suck it in, your tongue swirling around it. The salty taste of your sweat and tears overwhelms your taste buds and causes more wetness to pool in your panties. 

You continue sucking on his thumb, paying no mind to any of his other movements. Your eyes shoot open when his hand starts playing with the waistband of your panties. 

“This where you need me?” his fingers release your waistband and rub over your slit through your panties. “I think so. So wet for me already. Is my girl needy tonight?” You eagerly nod your head and he smiles at you before placing one last gentle kiss to your lips and moving down your body.

He desperately wants to fuck you so hard you can’t tell what hurts and what feels good. Wants to hear you scream and beg for him to stop while ignoring you and going harder. But he sees how sensitive and needy you are tonight. Knows you need extra love and care tonight–and it definitely can’t wait for aftercare. You in need of princess treatment? He’ll malicious compliance his way into getting you to beg him to treat you like nothing more than a slut. Yeah. That’s how he’ll get his way. That’s how he’ll get you exactly where he wants you.

He kisses down your neck, teeth grazing your collarbones and licking your hot skin.

“Don’t get the wrong idea, baby. Love this tiny fucking dress on you. But unfortunately,” he rips your dress entirely down the middle, causing you to gasp out as you gawk at the effortless way he does it, “It’s in my fucking way.”

John stares at your exposed chest, very fucking pleased that you skipped out on the bra today. He looks at you like he wants to eat you alive and you’ve never been more appreciative of the fact your chest is not well endowed–bras not a requirement for dressing yourself.

He doesn’t bother uttering a single word as he brings his mouth to your nipple and immediately starts sucking it into his mouth, dragging his teeth across it and feeling it harden between his lips. He kisses all around your tit and mumbles, “Love these tits.” And his mouth latches onto the other one.

Your back arches off the ground as you moan out. You’re not sure if it’s possible to get any wetter than this, and if he doesn’t touch you where you desperately need him soon, you might just combust. 

“Sir… I… please, I need you.”

“You need me? Thought you already had me, sweetheart. Where do you need me, hm?” He teases you and it has you whining yet again. You hate it, but you can’t help it. Can’t help these atrocious noises that have you wanting to run and hide away forever.

“‘M so wet… want you to play with me. And touch me,” you give him your best puppy dog eyes and he places one final kiss to your nipple before kissing down your stomach. Usually, he’d make you get more specific. He loves getting you all flustered from saying filthy words, but he’s running out of patience and you look so good laid out in the mud.

He places one final kiss above the hem of your underwear before gripping them between his fingers and yanking them down, not even bothering to wait for you to lift your ass up. He’s stronger than you, he doesn’t need your help and he doesn’t care if you get rug burn from the way he ripped them from you. You’re a big girl, you can take it.

“Gonna eat this messy cunt like it’s my last meal. You deserve that, my little bunny girl? Chased you down in the dark, only fair I taste what I caught–what’s rightfully mine.”

“Yes!” You immediately respond to him. Your legs are quivering from how you keep rolling your hips, searching for that sweet friction. “It’s yours. All yours, ‘m all yours.”

He moves his face down between your legs and you feel his facial hair drag across your skin as he leaves sloppy kisses all along your folds. His beard is already getting wet from how obscenely wet you are for him.

When his mouth finally latches around your clit, you let out a sound that’s borderline a scream. You’re immediately grinding on his face. All it takes is a few little licks, kisses, and sucks and your toes are curling, already on the verge of coming. But he pulls away right before you do, kissing your thighs until you come back down from the edge before going back to licking at your cunt. 

And he does it again. And again. And again. He does it until you’re thrashing around in the mud, all your limbs shaking with need, and you’re crying again.

“Please,” you speak out through your tears, “Please let me come. Wanna come so bad. Need it. Need to come–come all over your face. Please make me come.”

He loves hearing you beg, isn’t afraid to let you know this constantly and will do whatever it takes to get you to that begging and pleading mess beneath him. So pleased with what he’s hearing, he doesn’t even think about pulling away. Before you can continue begging, you’re coming on his tongue while screeching out into the night.

Your body trembles with aftershocks and you feel as if you’ve turned into jelly. Your head is completely empty, the only thing you’re aware of is the blood rushing through your body and the post-orgasm exhaustion setting in quickly.

“Oh fuck!” you yell out as he shoves his cock into your still spasming walls, all the way to the hilt. Your eyes open wide and you see a nearly rabid looking John above you. His face and beard are glistening with your arousal and it makes him look all the more feral. Maybe he has gone completely feral, because he doesn’t bother waiting for you to adjust to his size as he starts thrusting inside of you. 

Thankfully, you’re drenched so he moves effortlessly as your walls are already trying to milk his cock for everything he’s got. You’re moaning and mumbling incoherent words as he continues to fuck into you, fast and hard. He bends down and sucks the skin of your neck, his happy trail and pubic hair rub against the sensitive skin of your pussy–your body barely registering the burn from how overly stimulated you already are.

Your ankles lock behind his back, but he isn’t having any of that. He leans back, gripping your calves and forcing your knees to your chest. Your tiny body contorts, bending to his will so easily. 

Your tummy is bulging out around his cock. Every little movement of his cock is outlined on your belly. He bends forward, using his body to help hold your legs in place and one of his hands comes down to your abdomen and presses down on the bulge there.

“Feel that, baby?” He asks through pants and groans. “Feel how this tiny pussy struggles to take my big cock? Look down at it. Look how deep inside of you I am. Rearrange your fucking guts around my cock. Nothing but a tight hole for me to fuck.”

You manage to look between the two of you and he moves his hand so you can see exactly how deep inside of you he is.

“Holy fuck! You’re gonna break me, you’re gonna fucking break me,” you cry out, in desperation or fear, maybe a mixture of both, you don’t really know. You don’t really care as long as he doesn’t stop.

“Feel me in your lungs? Folded in half for me. Being such a good girl, you know that? Taking me so goddamn perfectly, fuck.”

You can tell he’s getting close by the way his thrusts become inconsistent and his groans become more throaty. 

“Come for me, bunny girl. Know you can do it. Know you can give me one more,” he demands as his hand goes down to rub circles on your wet clit. The pleasure, the pressure, it’s all too much. Your body is on fire and you can barely breathe in this position. 

“It’s, fuck, it’s too much. I can’t, I c-,” you pant out brokenly, “Can’t. It hurts! Hurts so fucking good.” Despite your protests, he doesn’t relent and the pressure builds up in your belly. “Oh, god. Oh, ‘m gonna come.”

“Don’t talk to god, talk to me when I’m fucking you. Call out to me when you’re creaming my cock.”

“Captain!” you scream as you do exactly that. You’re letting out inhuman noises as you cream his cock.

“That’s it. Gonna stuff this pussy full of come, just how you fucking love it. Fucking milk this cock, baby. Milk. This. Fucking. Cock.” He practically growls out between harsh thrusts. He buries himself to the hilt and his hips stop their movement as he shoots his come deep inside of your aching and throbbing pussy. Just when you think he’s done, more pours from the tip of his cock and you’re overflowing with his thick seed.

He pulls his still hard cock out of you and shoves his fingers inside of you in its place, almost like he’s plugging his come inside of you. Which he is. He gave that all to you and you’re going to keep it exactly where it belongs.

Your body is a mess, covered in sweat and mud and possibly even a little blood. You lay boneless in the cold mud, unable to muster up any energy to move for several minutes.

“Don’t fall asleep on me, bunny girl. Need to clean up your mess.”

You weakly nod as you reach out for him. He grabs your hands and pulls you up so your face is right in front of his softening cock. You start sucking on the base of him, your nose buried in his pubes as you suck the entire length of him clean. You gently lick and kiss his tip before moving to his balls and sucking those clean too.

“Such a good girl for me, doing so well. Took my cock so well and cleanin’ me up like this. Makin’ me so proud.”

You whimper at his words and you pull your mouth away from his pelvis. He brings his face to yours and you start licking his cheeks and lips clean too. You get carried away, sucking on his lips until he opens them so you can suck on his tongue too.

He pulls away and whispers, “That’ll do. Come here.”

You wrap your arms around him as he lifts you up off of the ground, your legs wrapping around him as well. He begins to slowly walk you two back the way you came. His come leaks from your used pussy and trails down the front of his shirt, the feeling occasionally causing you to shiver and cling to him harder.

Your eyes are drooping as you nuzzle your face into his neck, sleep threatening to pull you under.

“Such a sweet girl, playing with me like this.” You hum sleepily in response. “Love when you run from me. You know why?” You shake your head as best as you can in your position, but he understands.

“Because there’s nowhere you could ever hide from me. I’ll chase you to the ends of the Earth and everywhere in between, then back again. I’ll always chase my little bunny girl.”

~masterlist~

consider supporting me on ko-fi

[rileyslibrary]

Your opinion isn’t part of the recipe, Sergeant.

Synopsis: After a successful mission, you and the boys decide to spend a day at the park, celebrating with a picnic. Ghost is barbecuing with Price while Soap and Gaz are annoying the living hell out of them. You? You’re looking at the havoc taking place in front of you.

Relationships: 141 x GN!Reader / Simon “Ghost” Riley x GN!Reader (brief and near the end)

Word count: 1,176

Notes:

I’ve had this image in my head for quite a while, and I wanted to put it in writing.

There’s a scene involving a sausage. If any of you filthy minds associate it with anything other than what it really is, I swear to Freud, I’ll grab you by the ear and drag you to the naughty corner. 

Platonic and fluffy

Want more?

———————————————————————

It’s amazing how they haven’t ripped each other’s heads off yet. 

You all get along so well on missions, that you wonder if it’s the military institution that makes you so well-behaved and orderly. Because what you’re witnessing right now is nothing more than a circus.

You’re sitting on the picnic bench, sipping an ice-cold beer and munching on some thinly sliced carrots you prepared at home. You sprained your ankle on the last mission, and it’s making it difficult for you to participate in anything happening around you. Thank God, you think to yourself.

Soap and Gaz are playing football about twenty metres away from you, which is dangerously close, given the velocity with which they kick the ball to each other. They’ve already hit the table once, launching empty beer cans into the air and shouting “STRIKE!” as if they invented foot bowling. Ghost gave them the death stare and Price politely asked them to keep “the fuck away from anything alive, especially when it’s already injured.”

Ghost is barbecuing. He’s wearing that stupid birthday present you all got him—a tactical vest shaped like an apron with the word “chef” written at the top. It had the same loops a conventional military vest had for attaching pouches for bullets, knives, and walkie-talkies. The loops on that apron, however, were used for organising one’s tools, sauces, and spices while barbecuing. It was a funny gift, and he smiled when he opened it, but you never expected him to wear it. Look at him now, rocking that bad boy as if he was the one who chose it.

Price is standing next to him with a beer and a cigar in his hands. He’s looking at the grill but not touching anything. Ghost clarified that if anyone else touches it, we will eat their fingers along with the sausages. And, even if he didn’t mean the threat, you wouldn’t dare to put his abilities to the test. Especially after seeing what he’s capable of doing at work.

You try to eavesdrop on their conversation, but Soap and Gaz’s shouts drown it out. An F-16 would pass over your head right now, and you’d still hear Soap screaming, “That didn’t count; it was out!”. But, despite the chaos, you can make out some words. They’re reminiscing about the good old days, talking about their first deployment together, their comrades, and only using salt and pepper on steaks.

Price is Ghost’s companion throughout... everything. Whether that’s on a mission or a day out. He can’t seem to bear the entropy that the other two are causing, and he’s not comfortable talking to you yet. Price is as calm and talkative as Ghost desires. Or, perhaps, Price knows what Ghost wants.

Soap and Gaz appear exhausted from football and return to the picnic area. Gaz sits across from you, apologising for being “too sweaty,” and you start laughing. You’ve wiped the blood off of that guy during an enemy attack, and yet, he worries about sweat. 

Soap, on the other hand, isn’t much of an etiquette expert. He’s creeping up on the grill, and Ghost threatens to mark him with the spatula if he gets closer. “I’ve already salted the steaks; I don’t need your sweat,” he says.

Soap ignores his warnings and stands there, hands on the sides of his hips, looking at the grill. He gives unsolicited advice about the cooking time and when to flip the pork chops. Ghost tells him his opinion isn’t part of the recipe but turns the pork chops anyway.

Gaz murmurs that he’s hungry, and you offer him a carrot. He makes a disgusted face and asks Ghost—who is taking his sweet time with cooking—when the food will be ready. Ghost then turns to Price, warning him to get a grip of him before he does, and dares Gaz to come close to see for himself. You smirk and nudge him to go, but he shakes his head, telling you he hasn’t gone crazy just yet.

At some point, Ghost becomes distracted by something Price says and leaves the spatula next to the grill. Soap seizes the opportunity and uses the spatula to poke at the meat. Ghost notices him, but as Soap attempts to run away, he catches him by his maw-hawk and draws him closer. Instead of hazing him, he gently touches his shoulder. He explains why pressing on meat while cooking drains it of its juices. Soap crosses his arms in front of his chest and nods like a student.

Price takes up the football and challenges the two sergeants to a game so they’d leave Ghost alone. He says two against himself, and they make a snide remark about his age, saying he smoked an entire cigar and drank five cans of beer. In response, he throws the ball up and shoots it midair with his foot, demonstrating his abilities. Soap and Gaz run after it like dogs playing fetch, and Price joins them.

Ghost turns to face you. He asks if you’re okay, how’s your ankle, and if you’re enjoying the “rabbit food.” You tell him that everything is fine and smile at him. He drapes a towel over his shoulder and gets a fork and knife. He cuts a piece of sausage and hands it to you, whispering not to tell the others. You take the sausage off the fork, thank him, and pop it into your mouth. He looks at you with curiosity and concern as if trying to judge his creation based on your facial expressions.

“It’s delicious, Ghost.” You compliment him, and he puts his hand in his apron pocket, standing taller than before. When you ask him how he made it, he begins reciting every detail of the recipe as if it were a poem he wrote by heart.

He wipes his brow with a towel and whistles with his fingers for the three self-proclaimed MVPs to end their match because the food is ready. The sergeants bolt, and the captain pants in exhaustion. “It’s that fucking cigar,” Gaz says, and Price reminds him that he beat “the living shite” out of both of them in that match.

The four of you sit down and invite Ghost to join. But he refuses, claiming that the grime from the meat is still fresh and now’s the perfect time to clean it off the grill. He encourages you to begin without him.

You start eating, complimenting Ghost’s cooking as you go. He tries to be humble, but he looks so proud of himself. Proud of being able to provide in ways other than giving orders, shouting, pulling triggers, and hurling knives. He enjoys feeding others, even if it means cleaning up afterwards. He might not be full of food, but he’s full of joy, and that faint smile on his face is a dead giveaway, as he cleans the barbecue grill.

———————————————————————

[yyh4ever]

Yu Yu Hakusho POP UP SHOP at MEDICOS

Theme: "Good night with Cats" (Neko to Oyasumi) 🐈💤

🐈Official Site: medicos-e.net

🐈Event Period: February 22 to March 10 , 2024

🐈Venue: MEDICOS SHOP Shinjuku (Shinjuku Marui Annex 6F)

It seems those sleeping illustrations are getting popular. GraffArt released the "Sweet Dreams" merch in September 2023, then Animebako released the "Good Night Series" in November 2023. Now, Medicos is having this new POP UP in Shinjuku with the boys in pajamas and holding Kuwabara's cats!

As someone brilliantly pointed on X, besides Eikichi we already know, all the other cats also appear at Kuwabara's house in the manga.

Source: @YYH_No1

🐈Goods:

Products sold at the POP UP SHOP will also be available for purchase on the MEDICOS ONLINE SHOP. Life-size panels will also be displayed at the venue.

Big Acrylic Stand (6 types)

Price: 1,925 yen each

Size: H162 x W123 (mm) / Pedestal: H63 x W94 (mm)

Can Badge Collection (6 types)

Price: 495 yen each (blind) / BOX: 2,970 yen

Diameter: 56mm

Acrylic Keychain Collection (6 types)

Price: 660 yen each (blind) / BOX: 3,960 yen

Size: H65 x W60 (mm)

Acrylic Diorama (2 types)

Price: 4,070 yen each

Acrylic Multi-stand (2 types)

Price: 1,650 yen each

Size: H114 x W127 (mm)

Illustration Card Set (6 types)

Price: 660 yen (set)

Size: H148 x W100 (mm)

Clear Poster

Price: 1,650 yen

Size: A3

Satin Pouch Bag

Price: 1,815 yen

Size: H185x W140 (mm)

Acrylic Charm Collection (6 types)

Those charms contain the names of the characters written in a squarish hiragana font, and their motifs.

Price: 660 yen each (blind) / BOX: 3,960

Size: H44x W50 (mm)

Sticker Collection (6 types)

Price: 880 yen each (blind) / BOX: 5,280

Size: H80x W60 (mm)

Acrylic Block Collection (6 types)

Price: 990 yen each (blind) / BOX: 5,940

Size: H55x W10 (mm)

Mini Shikishi Collection

Price: 550 yen each (blind) / BOX: 3,300

Size: H135x W120 (mm)

🐈Benefits:

During the period, for every purchase of 1,000 yen, you will receive a random bonus clear card (6 types).

[pearlahearts]

neuvillette ⋆⁺₊⋆ ❄ ⁺₊⋆ ❄ ₊⁺ ⋆

pairing | neuvillette/fem!reader

warnings | fluff, pregnancy, labor (non-descriptive), a baby 🥹, boy dad!! neuvilette, lowercase intended

words | 878

notes | pretty sure my heart and uterus exploded while writing this. i now have baby fever 😔

synopsis | neuvillette has his first son and fontaine has its first snow of the winter season

if someone told you five years ago that you would be married to a man like neuvillette and pregnant with his son, you’d laugh at them and call them crazy. but here you are, walking around fontaine, gift shopping for the upcoming winter holiday and unable to find anything for your perfect husband.

you had already gotten plenty of gifts for other members of your family and even your unborn son, but nothing had caught your eye for neuvillette yet. you wanted your gift for him to be perfect. something memorable. something charming, just like him. but you were ready to give up your search for the day.

you’d been shopping since the morning, and now it's almost the evening, and you really just want to go home, so you can put your swollen feet up. so, you trudged home, disappointed that you could find nothing for your husband.

but, an unfamiliar antique shop catches your eye, and that's when you see it. a beautiful gold pocket watch resting on a stand in the window of the store.

your face was almost pressed to the glass as you tried to get a better look. you could see an intricate swirling design with beautiful blue crystals dancing around the edge of the watch, but what caught your attention the most was the fact that the pocket watch could hold a photo in the case. it was absolutely perfect. without even thinking about the price, you opened up your purse to grab your pouch of mora and began to walk to the entrance of the shop.

but before you reach the door, an unfamiliar sharp pain strikes your lower abdomen causing you to drop your pouch onto the ground. the sound and mess of mora cause people to look at you with concern as you grip your belly. 

you knew that you were due soon, but you had thought your little boy would not be born for at least another week or so. but you knew you were wrong when you felt the tell-tale trickle of liquid run down your leg from there the rest was a blur.

you had been rushed to your home with neuvillette waiting for you and the doctor had been called. you had felt so unprepared for the early arrival of your son, but as neuvillette firmly held your hand while you lay in the birthing bed, you knew that everything was going to be fine

after almost 9 hours of labor, you finally hear your son’s cries as he enters the world. your eyes well up with tears as you revel in the sound of your baby boy's strong cries. you can feel neuvillette’s hand tighten around yours as he watches the midwife and nurses clean your baby up.

in a matter of minutes, he was placed in your arms and the room was cleared out, giving your small family privacy. neuvillette is now sitting on the bed, his arm wrapped around your shoulder as you two look at your curious baby boy. his big blue eyes looking at his parents as you both gaze back at him in awe.

“i can’t believe he’s here now. here for me to hold and love him,” you say quietly as a lone tear rolls down your cheek. you look at neuvillette and reach a hand to his face, cupping his cheek to draw him in for a sweet kiss. though the kiss was short and sweet, it was full of passion, full of unconditional love.

“thank you for making me a father, my love,” he whispers against your lips before he rises from the bed. “may i hold him?” he asks just as quietly. you smile at him before you hand him your son.

as soon as neuvillette has him in his arms, the two quietly stare at each other, taking the other in. you can only smile as you watch your two loves familiarize themselves with each other. yet something in the window behind neuvillette catches your eye.

the sight brings more tears to your eyes as you see the glittering flurries of snow dance outside the window. your eyes travel back to neuvillette holding your son. you can see the trails of tears run down his cheek as his son holds onto his finger with his tiny, pudgy hand. 

you watch on as you think to yourself that you have never witnessed such a beautiful scene. your husband falling in love with his new son as the beauty of the season’s first snow paints the background. 

your son is almost a month old when the holiday finally arrives.

you're anxious as you sit on the couch with your son in your arms, watching as neuvillette opens his gift from you. your shoulders sag in relief as you watch a small smile form on neuvillette's face as he finally sees the golden pocket watch you've given him.

“it’s perfect love,” he compliments, his eyes now focused on you.

“look inside,” you urge him.

he follows your instruction and clicks it open, his smile growing wider as he sees the photograph of you and your son placed in the, there for him to see when he checks the time. now his beautiful wife and son will be with him wherever he may be.

copyright © pearlahearts

do not copy or repost my work

[illusory-nomad]

02 Revolver - Good Morning, Ratio!

Secret agent! Aventurine x Criminal! Reader | Revolver masterlist

Word count : 1,010

TW : cursing, weapons

As Aventurine walked down the fancy academy halls, every student and teacher kept their gaze on him, whispering to one another. Even so, Aventurine heeded them no mind as he continued walking until he reached a certain door with the name 'Veritas Ratio' carved to a gold plate on the door. Without bothering to knock, he pushed down the door handle, then kicked it open, a wide, obnoxious grin on his face, similar to that of a younger sibling padding into their older sibling's room to annoy them.

"Good morning, Ratio!"

Ratio groaned loudly, "can you not? When I said that you are welcome to ask for my help whenever, I do not mean you can barge into my office this way."

"Oh, sorry," Aventurine's apology was half-hearted. He knocked on the door, then proceeded to walk to the seat across Ratio, "good morning, Ratio!"

Ratio rolled his eyes, "good morning, gambler. What do you need this time?"

"I need you to help me come up with a plan," Aventurine answered casually.

"For your mission?" Ratio asked.

"Yeah. I told Y/N I'd talk to you and come up with a plan," the blond waved his hands, "so here I am."

"Fine. I will help you... Again," Ratio rolled his eyes.

"Fabulous," Aventurine smiled, clapping like a little kid receiving candy.

"But I know that street rat does not trust me, so if she does not follow the plan I made for you two, that is on you."

"Not fabulous."

Ratio took out a map of the city from his drawer, and laid it out on his desk, "WYVERN may appear strong, but they are more vulnerable than you think. You need to get rid of their most prominent allies: Genesis Orphanage, Belladonna, and The Luminos, which I reccomend you start with since, considering your addiction for gambling, it will be the easiest for you."

"The Luminos... That's a casino in the south of the city, no?" Aventurine asked, his tone serious, "I heard it's just a big scam... Only idiots would go there."

"Correct," Ratio nodded, "and for once, you aren't one of these 'idiots'.

"The owner of The Luminos, Mr. Corneo, plans to hold a gambling tournament tomorrow night. It is but another big scam, but with your ridiculous luck... Who knows?"

"Heh... Is that a challenge?" Aventurine smirked. Ratio merely stared at him uninterestedly before tapping on a spot on the map where The Luminos is located.

"Do whatever you need to do to end them, and once you're done, come see me again."

"What the heck?! This isn't the price we agreed on!" Y/N yelled, slamming her first on her employer's desk, "you said a million credits for stealing this jewel! This— This is half of that!"

"No, this is exactly the amount we agreed on," her employer smiled slyly, "500,000 credits. It's mentioned in our contract—"

"Bullshit!" Y/N argued, standing up from her seat, "the contract said a million! Cough it up before I—!"

The female's eyes widened when one of her employer's bodyguards aimed his gun at the side of her head.

"A slight correction, Y/N," her employer tsked, "you take your 500,000 credits and leave before I kick you out with zero pay."

"Tch... You bitch..." Y/N gritted her teeth. Her employer smiled, pushing the pouch of credits over to her.

"I have no more need for you. Thank you for your service, Revolver."

"Tch, stupid rich people..." Y/N grumbled as she entered her apartment, tossing her pouch of credits up and down, "500,000 credits my ass... Why do they always find the need to do this—"

"Hello, Y/N!"

Out of shock, Y/N whipped out her pistol and pulled the trigger. Aventurine quickly rolled to the side to dodge the bullet, making it pierce her worn out couch instead. The blonde male stared at the bullet hole with wide eyes, then looked at Y/N, "why did you shoot?!"

"Fuck, Kava!" Y/N yelled, "how did you get inside?!"

"Oh, I have my ways."

Y/N groaned, dropping her pouch of credits on her dining table, "way to mess up my already-ruined day."

"Why? What happened?" Aventurine stood up, eyes seeming worried.

"My employer scammed me," Y/N grumbled, grabbing a can of soda from her fridge, "but enough about me. Why are you here?"

"Ratio gave me a gist of what to do," he answered, "we're going to The Luminos tomorrow night. They're having a gambling tournament, and I'll be sure to crush them by participating in it."

"The Luminos? That's the casino that scams people, isn't it?" Y/N raised a brow, cracking open her soda.

"Yeah. And tomorrow, I'll be doing all the work. Well, most of it," Aventurine grinned, "you just follow me, and be prepared for any sudden fights."

Y/N stared at him for a second as she took a sip of her soda, then shrugged, "sure then. Why not?"

"Lovely," Aventurine hummed before looking around, "by the way, do you have any SoulGlad?"

Y/N stared at him with an 'are you serious' look, "you're asking someone who lives in a run-down apartment for SoulGlad? What, do I look like a five-star bar?!"

Aventurine blinked twice, then grinned, "maybe."

"... That's it. Get out of here."

"W-wait, I'm sorry!" Aventurine held his hands up and laughed nervously, stepping back with each step Y/N took towards him, "c'mon, Y/N!"

"Nope, nope, out you go," she shooed him away.

"Okay, okay, I'll see myself out," Aventurine walked towards the door, "I'll pick you up tomorrow at seven."

"Okay," Y/N waved her hand dismissively.

"Wear something nice."

"I don't have something nice."

"I'll prepare you something nice," Aventurine smirked, "stay at home and expect a delivery tomorrow at twelve."

"Hey, you don't get to tell me what to do!" Y/N argued, but Aventurine waved his hand dismissively as he exited her apartment.

"Bye bye, Y/N!"

Y/N groaned, rolling her eyes. She was definitely not excited for tomorrow.

Taglist (open) : @tainted-artist4161 @arxxq @arisha128

(Bold : can't tag ;-;)

[momo-no-tane]

Chara Log has revealed that they will be selling new Shugo Chara! goods, as well as reselling some goods that were originally released in 2022. The pre-order period will be from June 19th, 2024 to July 19th, 2024. The goods are scheduled to be shipped September 2024. Customers who spend 11,000 yen or more on Shugo Chara! goods will receive a Mini Photo Card Set. There are 4 types of cards in the set.

The prices are as follows (tax included):

Trading Heart Pin Buttons (4 Types) - single: 500 yen / box: 2,200 yen

Acrylic Photo Frame Sets (4 Types) - 1,760 yen

Acrylic Keychains (4 Types) - 880 yen

Slider Pouch Collection (4 Types) - single: 770 yen / box: 3,080 yen

Color Tote Bags (4 Types) - 3,300 yen

Trading Pin Buttons (8 Types) - single: 440 yen / box: 3,520 yen

Acrylic Accessory Stands (4 Types) - 1,760 yen

Compact Mirrors (4 Types) - 1,500 yen

Postcard Set (1 Type, Set of 5) - 880 yen

Source: Chara Log, Nijimen, X

[lydskisses]

🌟 PO - Genshin Feb 2024 Official Merch & Ganyu Outfit Series 🌟

ETA: Item-dependent

Purchase Bonus Deadline: 20 Feb 2024, 22:00 SGT or while stocks last.

➡️ All prices are in Singapore dollar. Mailing to you will be calculated separately when the items arrive. PayPal and Wise are accepted for international buyers.

➡️ Purchase Bonus:

(1) For 200p collected, one Ganyu badge will be given.

(2) For 400p collected, one Ganyu badge & notepad given.

(3) For 200p collected from Fontemer Aberrant Series, one ‘leisurely otter’ keychain will be given.

Bonuses are while stocks last!

✅ DM to Order:

🩷 Fontemer Aberrant

・(129p) Big Otter Plush (40cm x 18.5 x 15.5 cm) SGD$38.50/ea

・(59p) Sitting Plush Keychain (12 x 10 x 9 cm) SGD$18.90/ea

・(58p) Seahorse Holder (for cards, badges, keychains) SGD$18/ea

🩷 Starlight Series

・(34p) Portable Mirror (12 x 8 cm) SGD$13.50/ea

・(68p) Acrylic Diorama (13.5 x 8 cm) SGD$21/ea

・(12p) Can Badge SGD$7/ea

・(18p) Card & Sticker Set SGD$8.50/ea

🩷 Nilou & Ganyu Chibi Series

・(18p) Nilou Can Badge SGD$7.50/ea

・(15p) Nilou Chibi Can Badge SGD$7/ea

・(34p) 2-pocket Nilou File SGD$12.50/ea

・(34p) Nilou Acrylic Keychain SGD$13.50/ea

・(45p) Nilou Chibi Mousepad SGD$15.50/ea

・(88p) Laptop Bag (35 x 24 x 4.5 cm) SGD$28.90/ea

・(58p) Nilou Storage Pouch (12.5 x 20.5 x 7 cm) SGD$18/ea

・(42p) Ganyu Acrylic Stand (10.2 x 6.4 cm) SGD$14.50/ea

・(42p) Ganyu Pillow Keychain SGD$14.50/ea

・(108p) Ganyu Reversible Pillow (55 x 34 cm) SGD$36.50/ea

・(128p) Nilou Earpiece Sling Pouch (8.2 x 4.1 x 6 cm) SGD$32.50/ea

🩷 Ganyu Outfit Series

(There’ll be discount for purchase of 2 or more items from this series. DM for discounted price and for the size chart)

・(229p) High Neck Knitted Sweater SGD$54.90/ea

・(299p) Long Jeans SGD$73.50/ea

・(249p) White Bag SGD$62.90/ea

・(299p) Blue Bag SHD$73.50/ea

・(98p) Necklace SGD$26/ea

・(119p) Fan SGD$31.50/ea

・(48p) Metal Bookmark SGD$15/ea

#genshin #genshinimpact #mihoyo #hoyoverse #genshinmerch #原神 #ganyu #nilou #wanderer #neuvilette #fontaine #wriothesley #alhaitham #kaveh #scaramouche

[apteryxparvus]

hope you're having a pleasant day, also congratulations on your 100 followers.

i was wondering if i could ask a street musician reader and a passerby scara fic. ik it doesn't have much explanation but i hope i can leave it to you😞

Thank you! I'm a bit late with this request, but I hope you enjoy it. I completely fell in love with the idea of Scaramouche and street musician reader 🥰

Part of my ✨ 100 followers milestone event ✨ that ran from September 2nd to September 9th.

Pairing — Scaramouche / Reader

Word count — 2,922 words

Content warning — mentions of alcohol

Scaramouche strolls along the bustling stalls of Port Ormos, immersing himself in the symphony of sounds. The air buzzes with the echoes of lively merchants and customers trying to haggle over prices. Kids dart around, gleeful shouts adding to the cacophony. The rhythmic clatter of artisans’ tools echo from the nearby workshops.

The fragrant aroma of spices mingles with the smell of freshly baked goods. Nearby, a vendor proudly displays an array of ripe fruits — from plump and succulent Zaytun peaches, to imported Lavender melons and spicy Jueyun chilies.

Scaramouche pauses, and his gaze meets the warm smile of the vendor. He stays silent, feeling the weight of the curious gaze upon him. With a soft humph, he lowers his wide-brimmed hat, casting a shadow over his face. He continues on his way, his steps purposeful and gaze fixed straight ahead — he tells himself he must stay fixated on the mission, that he must not get sidetracked by the vibrant distractions, nor draw any attention to himself.

He remains composed, a ghost in the crowd, blending seamlessly.

Yet when Scaramouche turns the corner, his hearing is enveloped by a soft voice. A familiar melody resounds in the air, and his heart skips a beat as he recognizes it instantly. He cannot help but be drawn towards the source of the enchanting voice.

There, in the midst of the bustling street, you stand, a lone street performer.

His steps falter as he approaches you. He stands between the other onlookers, his presence like a moth drawn to a flame.

You’re unaware of Scaramouche’s inner turmoil, and continue to raise your voice, your own rendition of the Inazuman song filled with burning passion and purity.

“Kare wa yasei no iro ni michita sekai o samayoi masu,

Jishin no seigen wa naku, kokoro wa fukaku.

Kabukimono, kabukimono…”

Time stands still. The lyrics evoke a lost meaning known only to him, memories he had long locked away. His chest constricts as he feels the weight of the past press upon him.

The last notes of the tune float into the air, and the crowd erupts in response. A few individuals drop mora into your hat, expressing their gratitude for the performance. You nod in sincere appreciation, a humble smile making its way to your lips.

Scaramouche waits patiently for the last of the onlookers to disperse. You crouch on the ground, gathering the coins and placing them into a leather pouch. The Inazuman steps closer to you, his hat casting a shadow over your figure. The weight of his presence draws your attention, and you raise your head, eyes wide with curiosity.

There’s an air of mystery cloaking him.

You straighten up and pat down your pants. “You’re Inazuman, right?” you enquire. His eyes widen for a split second, confirming your suspicions.

“The song,” he starts, struggling to find the right words.

“The Ballad of a Kabukimono,” you reply, a knowing smile on the corner of your lips. “A forgotten tale of a wandering Inazuman eccentric. No one really knows its origins.”

“The melody is different,” Scaramouche states.

You let out a sheepish chuckle, scratching the back of your neck. “Yes,” you admit. “The original felt too somber for my taste. I want to make people feel joy, rather than melancholy.”

Scaramouche huffs, muttering something under his breath. A hint of indignation stirs within you — if he has so displeased with the performance, why did he stay until the very end? He had the opportunity to walk away at any moment, yet he didn’t.

A rebuttal stirs within you, but before you can react, the Inazuman reaches into his belongings and takes out a hefty pouch, throwing it at your feet. The coins jiggle, and you watch speechless as he turns his back to you and leaves without uttering another word.

You stand amidst the scattered coins, confusion deepening. Stooping low, you gather the shiny mora, cursing at yourself for being so caught up in the moment, you had not even thought to ask his name.

The same night, Scaramouche strolls through the now-empty streets. Once bustling, the market now stands quiet and deserted, with only a handful of passersby leisurely walking past the closed stalls. Silence permeates the air.

His puppet body carries a deep ache.

His mission was a success — he had effortlessly infiltrated the nearby treasure hoarder camp, quickly retrieving the stolen Ruin Guard cores, along with a plethora of Fontanian and Snezhnayan machinery. The thieves were caught off guard; and he didn’t even need to rely on his Anemo Vision.

But despite the ease of the task and the triumph alongside it, he feels weariness settle upon his mind. A sense of monotony weighs upon him.

And the lingering melody of the song from his past stubbornly clings to his thoughts. It infuriates him, intensifying the restlessness he feels. He finds himself revisiting the memory of your voice — how it soared, building to a powerful crescendo, how you carefully enunciated each syllable of the language long forgotten.

He passes by the spot where he had witnessed your performance — it’s empty. He mentally chides himself for foolishly believing you would remain there throughout the entire day. The generous sum he had given you, along with the contributions from the other onlookers, would undoubtedly provide you a temporary respite from busking.

He feels a slight twinge of disappointment.

His weary gaze catches the flickering lights of a nearby tavern, the warm glow beckoning him. He heads towards the establishment, hoping to find some form of solace in the warmth and anonymity of the tavern; hoping to dull the ache within his soul with a drink or two.

Scaramouche steps inside the tavern, welcomed by the warm glow of the low-hanging lights. The wooden walls are adorned with paintings of the lush green foliage of Dharma Forest, while grainy photographs of Sumeru’s bustling cities add depth to the surroundings. Lively conversations fill the air — cheery and tipsy voices rise and fall; the noise mingles with the clinking of glasses.

His gaze sweeps across the crowded tavern, searching for a secluded place to settle. His eyes lock onto a hidden nook, and there, nestled in that corner, he spots your familiar figure. You’re sitting there, oblivious to the world, engrossed in your own daydreams, with a glass of a milky, effervescent beverage.

As if guided by an invisible force, he takes a few long strides towards the table and takes a seat beside you.

You look up, startled, but your gaze narrows in a split second. “Well, well, well,” you say, a hint of amusement flickering in your eyes. “We meet again, mysterious wanderer.”

“Mind if I join?”

“Of course, please, have a seat.” As he settles, you take a sip from your palm wine, the milky and powerfully sweet flavors dancing on your tongue. “It seems our encounters are becoming more frequent, no?”

Scaramouche scoffs, and you take another leisurely sip from the drink.

The silence around you carries a hint of lingering tension.

“Say,” you break the stillness. “Would a drink or two make you a better conversation partner?” you lightheartedly joke. “I am willing to offer the first round.”

The male smirks, mischief dancing in his indigo eyes. He leans back in his chair. “Since you’re probably using the mora I gave you for the drinks, I’d say the first round is actually on me.”

“I assure you, the drinks I buy are funded by my own pocket money.” You lean in closer, locking eyes with him.

“Regardless, I accept your offer.”

“Two palm wines coming right up,” you exclaim, already on your way to order from the gruff-looking bartender. 

Navigating through the crowd back to the table, you carefully balance the newly obtained drinks. You place them before Scaramouche and sit down. A moment later, you lift your glass in a toast. “Kanpai!” you exclaim in old Inazuman.

Scaramouche’s eyes fixate on yours for a brief moment, before he slowly raises his own glass. “You speak old Inazuman,” he comments.

“A few phrases here and there,” you admit, a flustered look spreading across your face. “I lived in Tatarasuna as a child, and I had the opportunity to learn a bit from the locals.”

The mention of Tatarasuna brings forth a wave of melancholic nostalgia; of fleeting memories of joyous faces, caked in soothe, of cooking lessons and exhilarating sword dances. He closes his eyes and sees the noxious black gas, with its haunting tendrils seeping across the surface of the once idyllic island.

Scaramouche raises his glass to his lips, taking a long, deliberate swig. He struggles to push back the rising tide of memories; struggles to push back the bile rising in his throat.

You notice the somber expression that crosses his face. “I’m sorry,” you say softly.

He meets your gaze, and you observe a subtle shift in his indigo eyes, how they darken. His demeanor is guarded, but in that split second, you see a glimmer of vulnerability. “Tell me more,” he inquires. “About the song, about your life in Tatarasuna.”

You nod, and take a moment to collect your thoughts. Leaning back against the chair, you recount the days of your childhood. You tell him about your parents — true adventurers at heart, with an insatiable thirst for exploration.

“They took me on countless journeys across Teyvat,” you start. “From the rolling plains of Mondtstadt, to the stone forests in Liyue. But those places, so easy to reach, were never enough for them.”

You recount the events that led the three of you to wash ashore upon the rocky outcrops of Kannazuka Island in Inazuma — a botched smuggling operation, led by an inexperienced sailor. You were stuck between two warring states — the Inazuma Shogunate and the Watatsumi Army. Amidst the chaos, a few brave locals defied the Electro Archon’s will, and extended a helping hand.

Within the safety of their village, they shared their crafts with you — under their guidance, you were introduced to the art of pottery, their steady hands guiding yours, allowing you to shape pots that held both practicality and an aesthetic appeal; you learned to weave silk, creating vibrant brocades that told stories of your past. They taught your parents the secrets of tending a garden, how to nurture each plant; they taught them the arts of stealth, of resourcefulness — they’d guide them through the thick forests, teaching them how to identify edible berries and how to track elusive prey without drawing the attention of wandering samurais or the warring armies.

“The villagers shared their stories, their own experiences. They told me about the legendary Mikage Furnace, about its role in shaping the community. But they also passed down folk songs… tales of mythical gods and primordial creatures.”

You take a sip of your drink. “The song I played today, it’s the one that I found the most fascinating. Even as a child, something about its haunting composition and the meaning behind the lyrics called out to me. The villagers themselves had no records of the origin of the melody, but they spoke of this restless longing they would feel each time it was performed.”

Scaramouche stays silent, as you take a moment to savor the last of your drink. You set the empty glass down. “I’ve always found myself wondering about the shadowy figure and his history…”

“Sing the original,” he demands, leaning in closer. “And I will tell you the truth behind the kabukimono.” His lilac eyes lock into yours, holding such intensity that it sends shivers down your spine. You almost squirm under the weight of his scrutiny, but you quickly compose yourself when you notice the raw melancholy swimming in his eyes.

You nod, accepting. “Alright then, I’ll sing the original for you,” you reply, taking a deep breath and letting your voice escape your lips.

The melody merges with the clamor of the tavern, but hidden in your little corner, the noise becomes irrelevant. Several patrons steal a few curious glances at you, their expressions a mixture of confusion and indifference, but they quickly divert their attention elsewhere, finding more interesting distractions.

But Scaramouche listens intently, penetrating gaze fixed on your lips, tracing every movement as the foreign syllables flow.

The final note fades upon your lips, and, completely entranced in the heartbreaking story of the eccentric, you don’t notice the lone tear that escapes your eye, leaving a damp trail down your cheek in the melody’s wake.

Silence stretches between you. Surprise flits across your features at the sight of the watery eyes behind Scaramouche’s stoic mask — he, who had at first displayed such aloofness and indifference, now seems stricken by genuine grief.

“Your song… stirs long buried memories,” he begins with a soft voice, answering your quiet, wordless inquiry. “In a past life, I too knew about the ache of aimless wandering, untethered and alone.”

His words linger in the air, a whispered revelation, one that hints at the depths of his own past.

Scaramouche exhales a heavy sigh, his stoic façade returning. “But a promise is a promise,” he says.

You shift uncomfortably. “Look,” you start, voice filled with concern. “If this brings you pain, there’s no need to continue. We can leave it be.”

He shakes his head, a flicker of determination crossing his features. “The kabukimono from the song… he was a puppet sculpted by the hand of the Electro Archon, intended to house the divine Gnosis. Yet, upon his creation, he shed genuine tears, and in his imperfection, he was carelessly cast aside.”

His words hang in the air, painting a tragic picture of a being cast aside by the very same hands that brought him to life.

“His divine powers were sealed, and he was locked away in a deep slumber,” he continues, voice laced with a mix of sorrow and resignation. “Until a samurai found him and took him in, despite his origins. The puppet formed a bond with the samurai and his companions.”

Scaramouche’s gaze turns distant, as if lost in memories. A sigh escapes him. “But then, tragedy struck. The puppet thought himself betrayed for the second time, and so he left, abandoning the only bonds he’d ever truly known.”

“His life was one of great suffering,” you quietly muse. Still, a doubt nags at the edges of your mind. “But how can you be certain this is the true origin of the song? Akademiya records tell a completely different tale of the Tatarasune Incident…” you trail off.

“The Akademiya is not infallible,” Scaramouche states bluntly, crossing his arms.

“But… the Akasha… the scholars have been able to preserve knowledge for generations,” you counter weakly.

“Not every truth stored is truly truthful,” he retorts. “Perhaps the kabukimono wished for his own story to remain unknown.”

You contemplate his words. “How can you be so certain?” you ask.

A subtle smirk ghosts his lips, and in an instant, clarity washes over you.

“You’re… you’re the kabukimono,” you breathe a sigh of disbelief and awe. The implications settle in your mind like the final pieces of an intricate puzzle. It all fits — the haunting melancholy in his eyes, his intricate knowledge of the past, and his willingness to share the painful truth, no matter how dark it may be.

Scaramouche remains silent, his enigmatic smirk still plastered across his face. It speaks volumes, confirming your thoughts.

Still reeling from his revelation, you meet his inscrutable gaze, a question look in your eyes. “Why reveal this to me?” you inquire, voice filled with caution. “How can you be sure that I won’t go and share this with the Akademiya scholars?”

His grin widens, mischief dancing in his eyes. “Ah, my dear street performer, it’s because I saw a kindred spirit within you. And besides, the Akademiya scholars… their pursuit of knowledge often blinds them to the depth of human experience.”

Scaramouche rises from his seat, the scraping sound of his chair against the chair breaking your thoughts. “It’s time for me to go,” he declares. “But if you’re willing, I can divulge more about the history of the kabukimono.”

You feel a flutter of anticipation at his words. “And what do you ask in return?” you inquire cautiously.

“I wish to hear more of your voice,” he admits sincerely, a surprising vulnerability seeping into his words. “If you are willing, meet me at Pharos Lighthouse, a week from now, before the break of dawn.”

And with that hopeful promise, Scaramouche departs, melting into the inky shadows of the tavern.

You remain rooted to your seat long after he takes his leave, mind reeling from the encounter. Your heart still drums erratically, head spinning, his revelations bringing up more questions than answers.

Ordering another glass of palm wine, you sip, hoping its sweet tones may calm your fraying nerves. You turn the conversation over and over, looking for a different, perhaps a deeper, meaning behind his words.

By the time your glass is empty, a weariness has settled into your bones. You offer a quiet nod of gratitude to the tavern keeper, and exit into the night.

Cool air washes over you as you step into the lamplit street, the ethereal glow of the moon overhead. And as you walk the familiar path that leads to your home, finding solace in the rhythm of the journey, the events of the night replay in your mind.

You make your way home, eager for what the future holds and the mysteries waiting to be unraveled.

*Translation of the song:

He wanders the world full of wild colors, A spirit unrestrained, a mind uncontained. Wandering eccentric.

Author's note: I AM BACK! I AM ALIVE!

University sure kicked my ass (and is still kicking it lol). I am still working on one more request, as well as the next chapter of L ♡ V E R ⇌ L ⦻ S E R (I have not forgotten about it, I promise)

[kitashousewife]

“i picked this up from the market for ya,” neighbor!kita hands you a small pouch of loose leaf tea tied with a small bow. “they had samples today.”

“can’t believe i missed sample day,” you sigh sadly, holding the gift in your hand. today was the first time you weren’t able to go to the weekly farmers market with kita, due to a meeting with a possible client. you help him sell his rice, and in return you bring a few flower arrangements to sell. it’s the highlight of your week, and you were so bummed to miss out.

“the ladies missed yer flowers today,” he smiles, flipping through the few pieces of mail he grabbed from the mail box. you open yours, frowning when it’s empty. “don’t worry, i told ‘em you’d be back next week.”

the two of you stand in the evening sun for a moment. even though it had been a long day, you decided to be a good neighbor.

“want to come over for some lemonade?”

the two of you stand in your kitchen now, gossiping about the happenings at the market today while grab the lemonade from the fridge.

“no way! their honey isn’t even that good,” you roll your eyes. the stand across from kita’s is known to have outrageous prices.

“oh c’mon, it’s not that bad. but i agree, a little expensive.”

you grab two glasses from the cabinet and nod.

“anything else happen?”

“no, not really,” kita says through a yawn. “i sold out though.”

“that’s great!” you give him a wide smile and he blushes. no matter what, he’s always been humble.

“it’s nothin’,” he smiles a little, looking at the ground instead.

you hand him a glass before making your way back outside. the two of you sip in the driveway, watching the sun set slowly. the two of you chat a bit more before kita let’s another yawn slip.

“tired?”

“yeah, got up earlier to do chores in time for the market today,” he finished the rest of his glass. “thanks again. ya know, yer lemonade is the best i’ve ever had.”

your cheeks heat up a little.

“you’re nice.”

“i mean it,” he stretches, and you look away when the t shirt he’s wearing rises a little. “i should get goin’ though. what do ya got goin’ on tomorrow?”

you take his glass from him and raise your shoulders.

“i don’t know! i have a few bulbs that i planted a few months ago that are starting to come up, so i need to check on those. i need to weed the area by the roses as well, i’ve let it get a little hectic,” it’s your turn to yawn now, and kita raises an eyebrow. you wave him off. “besides that though, i don’t really have any plans. and you?”

he kicks at a loose piece of gravel with his boot. “the usual. although i do need to stop by granny’s at some point to help her with her sink. she said it’s leakin’.”

“well let me know when you’re going. i have some dahlias that bloomed and i know how much she loves them.”

“ya spoil her,” he teases, slowly walking towards his own driveway. “but i’ll let ya know when i go.”

“you know where to find me!” you smile over your shoulder as you walk back to your house, and kita waves.

“goodnight, neighbor.”

maybe he’ll ask for your help with a few chores. or, maybe he’ll offer to take you out to lunch after you stop by granny’s.

[little-emerald-snake]

Smutmas Day 12

“You can go deeper than that.” - Garreth Weasley X F!MC

🔥NSFW 🔞 MDNI

902 words

Warnings: semi public / sexual favors as payment

Garreth knew she’d be in the library studying at this hour. After all, she promised after this time that she’d start brewing her own potions which meant she really had to step up her study time.

He found her in a tucked away corner of the library just as he’d imagined. Her nose in a book although it wasn’t a potions book. He frowned, clearing his throat loud enough to grab her attention.

She looked up from the romance novel, spotting Garreth and smiling impishly. “Oh, h-hi Garreth! I-I promise I’ve been reading up for potions. Look…see?”

She pulled out her copy of the potions guide book from Sharps class and holds it up as if she deserves a medal for carrying it around on her person.

He only tsks her and shakes his head, disapproval in every fiber of his disposition. He came to stand right beside her, pulling out the potion she was supposed to brew for Sharps class. The very same she’s paid Garreth to brew for her.

Garreth rolls the vial between his fingers and dangles it out teasingly, pulling it back before she can make a grab for it. “You know, I think my prices just went up for brewing, since I’ve gotten so busy lately while brewing for both of us.”

Her smile drops, not expecting him to raise the price but she grabs for her pouch of galleons. He holds his hand out stopping her. “No, I don't want your money. That’s too easy for you. I want something that you actually put effort towards since that’s what I have to go through.”

She thinks for a moment, maybe he wants ingredients? She could get him some stuff he probably doesn’t have easy access to. “Do you want specialty ingredients or something? I could get you whatever you need.”

He shakes his head. “You doubt a prodigy of potions will acquire specialty ingredients on his own? No, I have plenty at my disposal. I’m thinking of something else.”

She nods, looking at how serious but relaxed his facial expression is. He knows exactly what he wants and she can tell he isn’t leaving without having his way. “What can I do to pay you back Garreth?”

He raises his brows with a smirk, pointing down at the floor in front of him and suddenly she gets it. He wants a sexual favor in trade. Her mind reels for a moment, she can’t say she hasn’t imagined doing this for him before so it surprises her that it’s what he wants too.

She doesn’t hesitate as she slides out of her chair and onto her knees in front of him. His body and robes block the view of anyone passing by the shelves they are crammed between, which makes her feel a bit better as she undoes his belt.

He simply slides the vial into the breast pocket of his robe, watching as she undoes his trousers. A wave of arousal from the sight makes his cock twitch to life and begin to swell.

Her on her knees in front of him, even in a public place like this, he’s imagined it so many times before but actually having it happen makes him bite the inside of his cheek.

She finally pulls his cock free, watching as it swells in her hand. She looks up at his hooded eyes before giving a tentative lick starting from the base and ending just below his tip. He groans softly and a small shine of precum beads at his tip.

She licks her lips before dipping her head to taste it. He sighs, watching her contemplate his taste before closing her lips around his tip and sucking in a way that has him seeing stars. He watches her bob her head, slowly working more of him inside while she sucks torturously.

He can tell he’s too much for her mouth but that doesn’t stop her from trying. Her lips feel so good wrapped around him, especially when she slides them up and down his length and doing whatever the hell that suction thing is.

In all his times imagining this, he’d never imagined it feeling this good. He can’t help but want more, desiring to hear her to choke on his cock for all the extra work he’s done for her. “Come on. You can go deeper than that.”

Her eyes flick up to meet his. He can tell she sees this as a challenge when she suddenly takes him all the way, opening up her throat till her lips meet the base of his ginger curls.

He bites back a groan, hand coming up to fist into her hair as he whispers just loud enough for her to hear. “Oh Merlin, yes. Just like that. Wanna see you gag on it.”

He holds her there till she does gag, doing her best to cough silently when it becomes too much. He pulls her back, unable to hold back a groan as her stringy spit clings to his cock and her watery eyes flick up to his.

He can’t help but love the way she looks, eyes glassy from choking on him, cheeks red from embarrassment, and chest heaving as she struggles to breathe. “I should have made you suck my cock so much sooner. You look like you were made for it.”

[adrift-in-thyme]

Whumptober Day 17: “Leave me alone”

Read it on Ao3

- Fierce Deity & Mask

- Summary: Fierce cares for a wounded Mask

CW for blood and injury

———————————-

Link sits on the outskirts of the battlefield.

Fierce can see him from where he stands, a small, hunched figure silhouetted against a hazy blue sky and the remnant wisps of smoke. He starts toward him at a brisk pace, picking his way around the remaining bodies and rubble. He cannot help but wrinkle his nose at the conglomeration of unpleasant smells.

War god though he may be, he has never truly enjoyed conflict. At times it is necessary. But never is it enjoyable. The destruction it brings makes him ill.

Especially now, as he comes closer to the child and gains a better look at his injuries. He is bleeding. The emerald sleeve of his tunic has turned dark with the gory substance. A gash snakes its way from the very base of his neck down through his shoulder to end at his bicep. Its angry edges are coated in dirt and soot.

There is bruising too, peppering his arms and legs. And when he raises his head, Fierce can see that one of his eyes is swollen shut.

“Little one.”

He squats down, feeling abnormally large next to this tiny Hylian he has come to think of almost as his own child. Link looks up at him and sniffles. He raises a trembling hand, swiping viciously at the tears carving trails through the blood and dirt coating his face.

“Where’s the captain?”

There is anger in his voice, but Fierce disregards it. He has known this little hero for years now. He can tell quite easily when his anger is merely a front.

“He is safe.”

He reaches out toward Link’s injured arm. Link backs away.

“You are badly injured. Allow me to help you.”

Link shakes his head, cap flopping, bangs falling into his face. “Leave me alone. I don’t need your help.” There is a pause, then, “and he doesn’t either.”

Fierce blinks.

Ah, so that is what this is about.

Though the captain had willingly given himself over to the Deity’s strength, Fierce should have expected this to be a struggle. After all, Link does not know the promise he had made to the older hero. And his fear of the mask has not yet vanished.

With good reason, Fierce thinks, bitterly. Every time the hero uses it, his immense power takes its toll. It is a price he wishes he could rid him of.

“He tasked me with protecting you when he could not,” he says, solemnly. “Helping you would be fulfilling my oath to him.”

Link’s head jerks upward. More tears stream down his cheeks.

“You wanna help me? Let him go!” A sob tears through him and he clutches at his arm. Crimson runs down his fingers. “Let my brother go.”

Fierce raises his hands, instinct crying out that he comfort the broken child before him. But when Link curls in on himself further, he stops short of touching the hero. With his strength he could simply scoop him up and carry him away. He holds back, however. He does not wish to force his way unless absolutely necessary. So, they simply hover uselessly in the space between him and Link.

“Allow me to tend to your wounds and get you to safety. Then, I will release the captain.”

Link hiccups, his grip on his arm tightening, and finally, Fierce reaches out. Slowly, he pries the tiny fingers away from the wound. The captain had had bandages in his pouch and though he had been forced to use some for himself, there is still an ample supply left over. He begins winding them around Link’s arm with as much care as his war-calloused hands can manage.

“You’re hurting him.”

He doesn’t pause in his work, but he does look up from it for just long enough to see the broken expression on Link’s face.

“No, I am not. The captain gave himself willingly. As you know, that is the least painful way to utilize my power. He is not fighting. He is at rest.”

Another hiccuped-sob shakes the hero.

“Why? Why’d he put you on?”

Fierce tears off the remaining bandages and ties them tightly. It is not a perfect job, but it will hold for long enough to get him back to camp. They can take proper care of him there.

“Out of necessity. He needed to win this battle and care for the wounded. He could not do so with the strength he currently possessed.”

Link hands curl into fists. “That idiot. I told him never to wear it. I told him it was dangerous. I told him…” His words dissolve into another sob.

Fierce rests a hand on Link’s uninjured shoulder and the hero looks up at him, emotions swirling in his eyes.

“I promise you, little one, I will release him once you are safe. I have no wish to harm the captain…or you.”

He holds his gaze for a moment more, then turns to place the bandages back into the captain’s pouch. When he reaches for Link, the hero doesn’t struggle. And when he scoops him into his arms, he slumps against him with a trembling sigh.

Whether he is simply too weak and tired to fight any longer, or he has decided the Deity’s words are trustworthy, Fierce doesn’t know. It doesn’t matter to him, either way. His responsibility is getting Link to safety.

“The captain knew that you would not approve of his use of the mask, you know,” he says, once Link is securely in his hold and he has started his journey back. Link blinks, slowly, like one of the puppies they saw so often in Termina, exhausted after a day of running, yet still fighting sleep. “But you are precious to him. No sacrifice is too large if it ensures that you are safe.”

Tears well in Link’s eyes once more and he turns his face away.

“Idiot,” he mumbles again.

But there is something in his voice that Fierce cannot identify. Something almost like the feeling of sunshine trying to break through the clouds. It seems, sharing the captain’s sentiments was the right choice.

Humans really are such curious beings, he thinks as he walks back toward camp with the child curled in his arms. They care and yet, see fit to pretend that they do not.

“Fierce?” The voice is small, hesitant.

“Yes, little one?”

“You really are gonna let him out, right?”

Fierce smiles, grimly. So trust is still a ways away, then. No matter. He will repeat his promise however many times is necessary to soothe Link's fears. Someday, perhaps the hero will know that he wishes no harm upon him.

“I give you my word.”

Link sighs. His hand is curled around his tunic sleeve, Fierce notices now. The realization ignites a curious warmth within him.

“‘K,” he whispers and closes his eyes.