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meadowscarlet · 2 years ago

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inflicted desire ━━━ kaz brekker.

pairings: kaz brekker x fem!reader.

summary: you were simply a crow and nina's closest friend, but kaz doesn't understand why he feels the need to be near you or protect you when you can protect yourself; he is closed off and unreadable, and he couldn't articulate his feelings properly, until you were hurt on the job.

warnings: the normal six of crows shenanigans.

author’s note: a reposted fic. do not copy, post on another site, translate or claim any of my works as your own or you will be reported! nav.

Kaz Brekker did not make mistakes. He was a thief, not a fool, the Dregs' leader, and Ketterdam's most notorious man. He had a sharp intellect and was astute; no one ventured to cross him out of fear, or they were rational enough not to.

His plans were meticulous, and if something went wrong (which was unlikely), he had hundreds of backup plans ready to go. And everything went well, but there was a glimmer of realization that Kaz had made the biggest mistake of his life. It was bothering him, and he had a nagging feeling of uneasiness.

If he had merely noted when he met you—charming and intriguing—when he visited the House of the White Rose to inform Nina about a job; he should have simply ignored you when you passed him in the hall without a second glance, but Kaz had been effectively intrigued.

Nina told him that you were her closest friend and the one person in the White Rose who kept her sane. Nina was cautious, with a guarded gleam in her eyes and a reluctance that could get you killed in Ketterdam, when Kaz inquired whether you had any skills.

Nina had given Kaz a sharp gaze and said, “Recruiting her in the Dregs is dangerous.”

“Nina dear,” Kaz drawled. “It's dangerous everywhere in Ketterdam. And I think your friend would appreciate getting out of here every now and then.”

Nina told Kaz about your bewitching qualities with a little more trepidation. You were charismatic, a pretty face and a cunning smile that could tempt wealthy merchants to give you kruge and a wise convincer. Nina also mentioned that you had good combat skills. Kaz Brekker had smirked at the time, his thoughts racing. He was well aware that he needed you on his team.

That was his very first mistake. You were good at your work—you did a brilliant job and Kaz knew you were a terrific addition to the Dregs—but as the days passed, he began to have an underlying feeling inside him that he quickly dismissed whenever you were there. Kaz often wondered if he should have heeded Nina's advice about not recruiting you in the Dregs, but he'd been blinded by his curiosity, and he bitterly regretted it.

He recalled one mission in which they were meant to spy on a handful of Pekka Rollins' men. Kaz remembered how meticulously he had prepared for this; he had gone over blueprints over and again until his eyes were weary, but he would not rest—never. Kaz was scrupulous with his plotting especially since it involved Pekka Rollins.

When there's a lovely girl around and they're inebriated, men are simple to seduce. So, of course, your main task was to play the inquisitive girl, allowing men to reveal their drunken secrets while you sat, looking pretty. Despite the fact that you were skilled in this vicinity, Kaz didn't like the plan, but he needed Inej on the roofs and Nina by the door, so you were left as an option.

As he saw you woo one of Rollins guys, he felt a prickling sensation inside him. You were dressed in a velvety white dress that accentuated your contours; you stood out in the darkness of Ketterdam, and you shone brightly. Kaz may not believe in Saints, but he was convinced you were one by the radiance of your smile and dress.

He despised seeing you sitting on a drunk Dime Lion man's lap, and Kaz noticed you looked uneasy, so he fought the impulse to smash the man's head with his cane until his skull cracked satisfyingly. He reminded himself that this was a job, and he needed to do his part. Despite your unsettled expression, he could see your ears perk up, and that's when Kaz recognized the man had begun to speak.

Kaz watched you giggling and touching the man's forearm while drinking your drink; you were playing your part wonderfully as usual. And it all happened very quickly; when the drunken man leaned close to you, another man approached him to stop him, and Kaz realized the man knew who you were.

The man had said something to the inebriated man, and the latter had suddenly sobered up, and Kaz realized chaos had occurred. Because of the drink you drank, you appeared tipsy, but Kaz could see how your eyes flared in terror and your gaze immediately darted to him.

Kaz had set out on foot to get you, but Nina had beaten him to it. Nina had grasped your wrist and pulled you away in alarm before the man could grab you. Shots were being fired, and Kaz could see Jesper rousing his revolters to fire back at the men who were shooting at you and now at Jesper.

Kaz was so concentrated on the men and the bullets that he missed you limping in Nina's arms as he pulled his own gun. Nina wore a worried expression on her face and was essentially bearing half your weight. And Kaz could see it: there was blood on your abdomen that was obvious and evident through the white of your dress. As Kaz focused on you, gunshots faded into the background, and he was startled out of his reverie when Jesper told them to leave.

He didn't normally listen to Jesper because he was the one who gave the directions and commands, but now his feet followed Jesper's, his leg jerking in pain as he hobbled, yet his step was swift. He remembered the blood on your adobem, the way Nina's eyes widened, and he was filled with dread. It was terrifying. Since Jordie, he hasn't felt like this in years.

Kaz knew Inej was close behind him, quiet and concealed like the Wraith she is, as his Crows hurried to the Slat. As you limped beside Nina, Kaz could see you being held by her, and he turned to Jesper, a sensation inside him that he didn't want to convey.

“Run after Nina," Kaz rasped coldly. “Help her with Y/N.”

Jesper didn't need to say anything else as he ran to Nina, and when he caught up with both girls, he grabbed your waist and helped half of your weight as Nina and Jesper carried you to the Slat. Kaz despised hearing a hint of fragility in his voice, but Jesper didn't seem to mind.

It didn't matter to Kaz if Nina could hear his rapid heartbeat. Kaz saw that the others were watching him as his eyes swept you laying on your bed with Nina mending your wound. Even though your face was pale and your breathing was unsteady, you were alive, Kaz was not soothed. Despite her concerns, Nina had been firm, requesting medical equipment from Matthias, who had followed orders.

Kaz isn't concerned about the Rollins information right now; all he wants is for you to be alright. He remembered your eyes widening in panic and searching for his first. He swallowed a lump in his throat and shook his head, focusing on you instead. And there was so much blood, Kaz gripped his cane tightly in his fist.

“Heal her,” he murmured.

Nina gave him a cold stare. “I'm trying, Kaz, but there's just too much blood.”

“I don't care,” Kaz said icily, his gaze matching hers. “Zenik, heal her.”

Inej had left, but not before praying to her Saints for you to be well. Jesper walked away as well, noticing the gloom in Kaz's voice and Nina's gaze. Matthias was retrieving more medical supplies, creating a tense atmosphere with only a feverish Kaz, an anxious but indignant Nina, and an alive yet barely Y/ N.

“You should leave, l'll get to you once l'm done,” Nina remarked as she resumed working in your wounded abdomen.

Kaz stood firm in his position. “I'm not going anywhere.”

With a shake of her head, Nina replied, “Your heartbeat is distracting me.” Kaz noticed her hand quivering. “I can sense your nerves, Brekker, and it doesn't help that l'm worried about her as well.”

He was terrified; he had shown vulnerability, and Nina had noticed. She knew he cared about you, and he had never experienced anything like it with anybody else. When Inej was stabbed, Jesper was shot, or Matthias, Wylan, and Nina were hurt, Kaz's heart didn't rush as rapidly. It was always you who made his heart race with nerves and a need to protect you if you were harmed.

When Kaz glanced at your hand, palm up, he felt compelled to grasp it. Not Jesper, who had brought you to the Slat, or even Nina, who stroked your hair away from your face every now and then, but he should be the one holding you and aiding you. But Kaz knew that idea alone was impossible; he couldn't think about it without shivering with distaste, so he stayed, a safe distance away, with a tremendous desire to hold you.

Nina fixed her gaze on him. “I assume she'll be a little hazy when she wakes up, so don't ask her any questions about the information.”

“I don't give a damn about the information,” Kaz remarked indifferently.

Kaz despised the mischievous glimmer in her eyes as she shot him a shocked glance. “Kaz Brekker not caring about the information that's about Pekka Rollins? Somebody pinch me.”

He gave her a skeptical look as he rolled his eyes. “Keep her alive by doing your work, Nina dear.”

Nina shrugged her shoulders, but her eyes were gloomy. “She's not dead, Kaz,” she said with a shake of her head. “Since the blood loss, she'll be unconscious, but she'll be fine—she usually is.”

Kaz nodded in agreement. What Nina said was right; it was not uncommon for someone in the Crows to be hurt—it happens all the time, especially during heists and jobs—but the jobs were mostly successful, and Kaz had been blunt in assigning you the safest task (charming people) because a selfish part of him wanted you to be in the middle of the job so he could keep an eye on you.

But, despite his composed demeanor, he seemed to crumble everywhere around you. Perhaps you had charmed him, as you had charmed so many others, by bewitching him with your entire being, causing his black heart to seek you out. When you were around, there was always an inflicted desire within Kaz, which he had always disregarded until now.

Kaz wanted to kill the man who had touched you, as well as track down the person who had shot you. He remembered your bright eyes dampening in fear and a brief tremor of despair as you realized you'd been caught, then blood splattering across your white dress and Nina's worried expression as she carried your limping weight.

Nina snarled, “You're doing it again.”

With his dark eyes, Kaz looked at her. “What?”

“I know you love her and all, but I need to focus, and your heartbeat is incredibly distracting right now,” Nina rambled.

Kaz stilled as he heard the word he didn't want to associate himself with. “In Ketterdam, love is neglected; it is reserved for the weak.”

Nina surprised him by laughing. “What are you doing right now? Whenever Y/N is hurt, you appear weak—you're in your vulnerable form.”

Kaz wanted to kill Nina by saying things he knew were true, but he was ignorant and stubborn to accept it. Nina gave him a knowing look as she cleaned, healed, and wrapped a cloth around your wound before kissing you on the forehead and leaving Kaz alone with you.

Kaz strolled over to where you were laying after a few moments of contemplation. He examined your flawless face, which, despite seeming pale and near death, was nonetheless lovely. Kaz paused for a while before raising his gloved palm to your cheek and tucking the errant strand of hair away.

He sat down near your bed, putting his disgust aside. Despite the strong temptation, he did not grasp your inviting hand. Kaz had stayed by your bedside the entire night, never leaving your side. Nina had stopped by every now and then to change your bandage, but she had said nothing about Kaz's overstaying or even asked him to leave.

When Nina was treating your wound, she had said, “You should rest, Kaz.”

Kaz gave her a sidelong glance. “Don't tell me what to do.”

Nina may have been right, but she was also wrong. Kaz did not believe he was capable of love, yet he had a great desire to be with you. To be in your company, to receive your gorgeous smile, and to simply be in your presence. And this time he wasn't going to ignore it.

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n3ptoonz · 7 months ago

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Love your work babe!

Figured I send some ideas over!

Asking johnny to fuck you from behind for the first time, like being nervous and asking him to bend you over and take you how he wants!

puts on sunglasses and flashes smile thank you, thank you very much

'Suga Baby'

Pairing: SugarDaddy!Johnny Cage/F!Reader

Fandom: Mortal Kombat 1 (2023)

Warnings/tags: Smut; Explicit, mirror sex, creampie/breeding kink, use of "princess" "baby girl" "good girl" "doll" and "baby", scent kink if you squint, prob my first time ever using the word 'pussy' in a fic, reader a lil shy, COCKY JOHNNY CAGE, doggy style/backshots, the only "she" used here is in reference to reader's vag LMAOO, dirty talk, sorry for any typos or unedited indicators

shoutout @igotcaged for the sugar daddy idea 😝 thought i'd double it 😼

Word count: 1.4k

what i was envisioning while writing 🫦:

Finally, some down time with your favorite man ever: Johnny Cage. AKA your sugar daddy of 7 months now. Who would've thought your days as a waitress would be cut so short when one of your favorite actors dropped in after winning a few big awards? He did. It had been his mission ever since his divorce to make the hottest woman he could find his sugar baby. He fucking loved spoiling people, so why not include you?

Truth be told it was no bother that he would do what he wants for however long since you would still get a weekly allowance. Though...you did want to celebrate his latest self-directed film "Mortal Kombat", which by the way, smash hit, winning Movie of the Year with him. In the 7 months of living with him in his mansion, you two only ever got to be intimate like twice. He was always busy with production, meet and greets, script writing, and protecting Earthrealm. He barely had time to wink at himself and pose in the mirror!

So tonight he comes home, a little tipsy he'll admit, but aware enough since he's not drunk. He was about to start rambling about a myriad of things when he was stopped in his tracks by the beautiful sight of you leaning against the back of the couch in his Versace robe and the lingerie he bought you for your birthday--how convenient that it matched what he was wearing tonight at the awards. He could smell a bit of the perfume you liked to wear lingering around the living room mixing with the faint smell of his favorite cologne on the robe too.

It was...intoxicating.

"Somebody was eager for me to come home..." he teased, slowly walking up to you and wrapping his arms around you. "You never told me there was another after party."

You smiled and wrapped your arms around his neck. Bringing up one of your hands you pulled his face closer so you could look him in the eyes. "Well, that would've ruined the surprise now wouldn't it?" you replied. Next thing you know you could feel him pick you up and throw you over his shoulder, palm over your ass and all. His sudden determination had you giggling and smiling.

He moved with vigor and intent to his massive bedroom in hopes you also were just as eager to fuck him like he was with you. The way your breasts sat to the way your thighs made the fabric of the garters stretch just a tad brought all together with that perfume...you'd think he was a starving lion released from its cage (no pun intended).

Your back gently hit the cool satin linens of his king sized bed. The mixing temperatures of that with his hot kisses all over your jaw already had your vision fuzzy. You gasped and bit your lip so you wouldn't be so loud as he just got started, but him realizing that only gassed him up more.

"Johnny..." you softly whined in his ear. Your nails were subconsciously dragging against his prized biceps as the thought had crept into your head. You wanted back shots. Though the nervousness started to appear since again, you've only gotten intimate twice, and both times were nearly rushed in a semi public setting for the fun of risk--and one of those times was you giving him some bomb ass head.

This time you needed him to bend you over and do with you what he wanted to. Especially now that you two have all the time in the world.

Johnny lifted his head to see the slight plea in your eyes, wondering what's going on behind those eyes. He grabbed your waist and pulled you into his lap. "Don't be shy, princess, tell me what's on your mind." he said, dragging his surprisingly soft fingers gently up and down your torso and eventually gripping your ass--he's obsessed with how the fabric feels, especially with you wearing it.

His gaze from under you was making you even more nervous. You really didn't expect to be so close with him, let alone be sitting in his lap and telling him what you want. Besides money, of course.

"Do you think you could...fuck me from behind this time?" you said. You tried to mask most of your nerves by leaning down towards him, the bra part of your lingerie nearly giving out over his face, and grinding your hips down onto his growing if not full erection. "And no, the quickie at that party two weeks ago doesn't count. I want you to-"

"-'fuck you like I own you', was it? To bend you over in front of this mirror and watch your eyes roll back from how fuckin' hot you look taking all of me? Aw, you're so good for me, doll."

Johnny was no poser. For the most part, what you see is what you get. In this context, he has every right to channel this side of him. There you were on your hands and knees on the bed, barely being able to focus on how either of you look as he shamelessly watched your back arch so he could keep hitting that same angle that made you see stars.

You loudly moaned and bit your lip again. It was drawn out and matched his pace with every thrust that connected. He fell in love with the growing sound of your pussy getting louder with every pump. Your slick was running down your thighs the wetter you got and Johnny was just silently thanking the elder gods above only he got to see such a view. He was just getting turned on more by the second since he could also get a look at himself and you in the mirror.

"Shit, have I kept you waiting too long? I'm sorry, baby girl. I wish you would've told me she was begging for me." he said. The "she" in question being exactly what you thought it was. "Look at that...she was made for me." he continued. He gestured to the feeling of you clenching around him in response to his dirty talk. It really has felt like it's been too long, but he was surely making up for it.

"Harder...slower...please..." you groaned out. You so badly wanted to get the most out of this as much as you could. He let go of your hair and placed his hands on your hips, stilling his movements without pulling out. He leaned down next to your ear and said,

"Whatever you want, baby."

And from there, you could feel him in your stomach. He made sure to keep pulling back and pushing forward hit that spot he knew could get you to be more vocal. So far you were mostly just whines and soft moans of approval, but damn it he fucking loved how you sounded when you weren't able to contain yourself.

"I know, babe, I know it's big." he muttered, but loud enough for you to be able to make out his words. "But I know you can take it. Be a good- agh" he inhaled sharply in between sentences. "-girl for me- ...yeah? Fuck..."

He silently cursed to himself as he could feel himself about to cum. You had such an effect on him already, but the tears and sweat making you shine had him ready to be a damn father. And honestly in this moment in time, he wouldn't even mind.

You buried your face into the mattress the closer you got to cumming. He could overhear you say you were about to even if your words were slurred and muffled. His grip around your hips got tighter as he picked up the pace again, begging you to let him cum inside. All you could get out was a loud muffled array of whines in agreement. You both needed this carnally, and he was in no opposition to it.

As he shot his thick warm seed against your walls, it didn't take long for it to start spilling out onto the back of your thighs. You came right after him and loudly moaned to your heart's content. Hands gripping the sheets and tears rolling freely down your face. It took him a bit before he stilled his moments because he couldn't stop getting turned on. Your muffled screams of pleasure were music to his ears.

He pulled out and watched it drip out of you and let me tell you, nobody has ever seen him grin wider in his life. You sat up as you tried to calmed down, watching yourself pant and tiredly smile in the mirror. He leaned down and kissed your neck a few times while wrapping his arms around your waist before muttering with a smirk,

"I hope it's a girl."

#n3ptoonz #mortal kombat #mk1 #mortal kombat 1 #johnny cage x reader #johnny cage #mk smut

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tanoraqui · 7 months ago

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Dungeon Meshi Liveblog: Golems, Orcs, & loser party that got TPKed by bugs (<3)

He's so competent, I love him. I really appreciate that post pointing out that this whole party is pretty near the top of the game in terms of genuine competency at adventuring. It's hard to tell when we rarely see other adventurers.

Just a few pages later, Senshi seamlessly takes out 3 golems on his own!

Water fountain shaped like a lion head!

Senshi has just been single-handedly keeping the dungeon from getting so dangerous that the Elves get to bully their way in, huh. Do you think dungeon experts have been wondering what's taking so long, and will one day find out that it's this one weird dwarf. I hope so.

I like the dragon being so goat-like.

HUZZAH!

Side note: I think an ideal live action Senshi would be played by Nick Offerman.

Marcille and the orc chieftain fighting while Senshi pointedly makes bread gives me such "The Last Supper" vibes - that is, the song in Jesus Christ Superstar. Two people having an increasingly vicious argument over dinner while everyone else in the room says increasingly loudly, "Wow, this food is great!!"

HEY LOOK THE NEXT CHAPTER STARTS WITH MY MAN!!

I'm sure this isn't novel analysis but man I like how directly Kabru's party mirrors the original Touden party. (Side note: I wish each party had a name that wasn't just the name of the party leader...)

Toudens':

6 members

3 fighters (Laiois, Shuro, Namari)

2 mages, 1 for damage (Marcille) and 1 for healing (Falin)

1 lockpick (Chilchuck)

2 long-lived (1 dwarf, 1 elf)

4 short-lived (3 humans, 1 halffoot)

3 men, 3 women

4 tall, 2 short

1 Easterner

leader is a mall tallman fighter

lockpick is halffoot

1 mage is tallman, 1 is long-lived magic-heavy race

1 fighter is a dwarf

Kabru's:

6 members

3 fighters (Kabru, Kuro, Daya)

2 mages, 1 for damage (Rin) & 1 for healing (Holm)

1 lockpick (Mickbell)

2 long-lived (1 dwarf, 1 gnome)

4 short-lived (2 humans, 1 halffoot, 1 kobold)

4 men, 2 women

3 tall, 3 short

1 Easterner

leader is a male tallman fighter

lockpick is halffoot

1 mage is tallman, 1 is long-lived magic-heavy race

1 fighter is a dwarf

A) it's obviously a solid party composition in terms of classes, and playing into D&D stereotypes (born of Middle Earth, as many D&D stereotypes are) of correlations between PC race and class.

B) Ryoko Kui was like, "There are going to be PARALLELS in this story and you are going to APPRECIATE THEM", and she was so goddamn right. Subtle themes are great but you know what's even better? Like 5 different really overt themes that are all happening all the time and interweave so constantly that subtlety is created in the infinite nuances of overlap. Eat or be eaten and to eat is to live is to want and understanding is compassion but it's also violence and we're all incredibly different and we're all incredibly the same and we're all trying to eat or be eaten in an elaborately connected web of life, and--

I want an orchestral arrangement of this story.

I'm not carefully counting all winged lion motifs but I AM going to count the number of Kabru Winks(TM). We're at 3 in this chapter.

EXQUISITE SMASH CUT

#dm lb #dungeon meshi

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l0vegl0wsinthedark · 1 year ago

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Zoom In.

Muggle AU, professor of 18C literature and poetry Draco, celebrity Harry ✨️

Violet was the first to log in - again. In the minutes before class began - in the "waiting room" - while she stared at her blank screen, it felt like the only real few moments she truly had to herself.

She spent all those moments, like so many others, thinking about Professor Malfoy.

To every single straight girl, and the singular gay guy, in class, Professor Malfoy was prime wank material. Violet hadn't known her classmates to be as desperate for a good word on their assignments from any other professor. To think homework would feature so high on the to-do lists of some of the biggest lunkheads she knew...there was definitely something about him, that Professor Malfoy.

She could see the appeal. The eerily pale eyes, hair, and skin made to appear warmer by the fluffy jumpers - all in elegant shades of scarlet, burgundy, emerald, wine, golden yellow - he wore over crisply ironed button-downs and tailored trousers; the way he used his hands when he talked, long fingers like a pianist's; the slim golden spectacles he was constantly misplacing on his own head, the rich precision with which he pronounced the olde names and subjects that he spoke of - it was very difficult not to admire Professor Malfoy.

All of that, but nobody really knew much about him outside of uni.

They'd switched to virtual classes a week ago; hurrah for the new pandemic. The idea that she didn't have to sit in class with her tittering classmates, a stray cough sounding now and again, made Violet automatically sit up straighter and smile, just as the little boxes on her screen began popping into life.

"Aaaayyyy!"

"Tell me we don't need to have our faces on display."

"So, yes, before anyone asks: this is a real lip ring. An actual piercing. Yeah, I'm not blowing you, Greg, sod off."

"Is Professor Malfoy on?"

"No, I don't see him here yet. Did he grade your essay?"

"Yo, can someone please tell me how to turn this camera off, I am smashed out my--"

"Click on the camera icon, Bryan--"

"It's not even noon, what d'you mean "smashed"?

"No, you've turned off your mic. No, we cannot hear you screaming."

"First icon on the bottom left," Violet said, rolling her eyes.

And then Professor Malfoy was in class.

There was a beat of silence before everyone called out greetings, a chaotic round of cheerful hello's that nobody could quite make sense of. Least of all Professor Malfoy.

He was peering into his screen, his slim nose scrunched.

"All right, so I can see me. Can you?"

Cacophonic confirmations.

"Okay, so nobody can see or hear me. Right."

More shrill reassurances. One loud beer-belch.

"Damn it all to hell, I knew this would happen, I told him that I'll need--"

"We can see you!" shrieked Preiti.

"We can hear you!" Nora bellowed.

But Professor Malfoy was already twisting around in his chair, scowling heavily, and screaming, "OY! COME IN HERE, YOU MISERABLE WANKER!"

Violet, along with her classmates, just stared in mystified silence. The professor never spoke like that. He ticked them off if they did.

A tall figure in a too big hoodie appeared suddenly, hissing back at Professor Malfoy. There was a golden lion printed on the maroon jacket. The hood was drawn in close, and Violet could just barely make out the light from the computer screen glinting off a pair of round glasses, on which a shaggy fringe of dark hair fell.

"You need to turn the volume up. Git," said the stranger. "Your camera's already on."

"I hate technology," Professor Malfoy seethed.

"You hate so much else. I'm getting fish and chips." The man was already walking off.

"I want mushy peas too, with mine."

"What kind of sick bastard." The room door was shut with a thud.

"Sorry about all that. We are now officially in session," Professor Malfoy said, smiling and restoring his glasses upon his nose. "Do you all have--?"

There was a muffled shout from somewhere behind the professor. Pinching the bridge of his nose, Professor Malfoy called back, "No. No, I don't want a curry dipping sauce."

There was more muffled yelling.

"Harry, get out right now!" shrieked Professor Malfoy, and Violet, along with the others, just ogled.

Malfoy sighed. "Sorry 'bout that. Just my idiot husband."

"You're married?!" Violet had asked before she could stop herself.

Professor Malfoy sighed, flipping open a thick, spiral bound folder. "Yes. You've heard of Harry Potter, I'm sure. He's the poor idiot I married."

#my writing #drarry #professor malfoy

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whencyclopedia · 5 months ago

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Manticore

The Manticore, derived from the Early Middle Persian merthykhuwar or martiora, meaning "man-eater" (also known as a mantichora or a martichore), is a fearsome hybrid creature found in classical and medieval literature. It has the body of a lion, the head of a man and a scorpion tail that can shoot poisonous darts.

The manticore is one of the most bizarre and ferocious creatures depicted throughout classical and medieval bestiaries. Its roots can be traced back to India and Persia (modern-day Iran). The myth of the manticore spreads over several centuries and is mentioned most famously by Ctesias (5th century BCE), Pliny the Elder (23-79 CE) and Pausanias (c. 115 to c. 180 CE).

Appearance & Characteristics

The earliest known mention of the manticore comes from the Greek historian and physician Ctesias in his Indica (written in the 5th century BCE). Although the Indica is now lost to time, fragments of Ctesias' work exist in other authors' writings, and we have a clear description of the manticore. According to Pliny the Elder in his Natural History:

Ctesias writes that amongst these same men there is found an animal called the Mantichora which has three rows of teeth like a comb, the face and ears of a human, and bluish eyes. It is red in colour with the body of a lion and a tail with stingers like a scorpion. Its voice is as if the sounds of the pipe were mixed with a trumpet and it is a creature of great speed which avidly goes after human flesh. (8.75)

Pliny's account of the manticore influenced later writers. He seemed to give the monster a basis in reality as he was considered the expert on strange and marvellous creatures for hundreds of years.

The morphology of the manticore was believed to have developed from its environment – the rugged and barren landscape of the Indian and Middle Eastern deserts. It needed to be fierce and to have weapons at its disposal to be able to catch its prey and prevent being caught by predators. Initially preying on animals like pigs and mountain goats, the manticore began to be lured to villages by the livestock it was hunting and inevitably began to attack and feed on humans, establishing the lore of the man-eating manticore.

The manticore would famously leave no trace of its prey behind. It could attack a human up close with its sharp claws or shoot poisonous darts from its scorpion tail from a safe distance. When it unleashes the poisonous darts from its tail, the tail either bends back or stretches out. Roman writer Aelian (175-235 CE) states that "whatever it hits, it kills, with the exception of elephants" (Characteristics of Animals, 4.21). The poisonous stingers are described as being thick as a rope and one foot (30 cm) in length. Once a stinger has been discharged, another one grows in its place.

Manticores did not just satisfy their appetites by killing one human but would chase after multiple people at a time, taking great pleasure in the hunt. Its favourite way to lure and hunt prey was to hide its body in the long grass, so from a distance, all humans would be able to see would be a human head. Deceived by this, humans would get close to the manticore, and before they knew what was happening, they would be attacked and killed. This showed how cunning and clever the manticore was. Although humans were undoubtedly a manticore's preferred prey, they would also regularly hunt the animal kingdom, except for lions which they could never overpower.

In order to stop the manticores' aggressive nature, the Indians would hunt baby manticores and smash their tails with rocks to prevent them from growing and shooting their poisonous darts and thus taking away their ability to harm humans from a great distance. Manticores lived in burrows deep under the ground where they could hide from their prey and avoid being seen by humans.

#History #1974 #1988 #1993 #WHE #[#]

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road-kill-eater · 2 months ago

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The storybook tone of your last post is really great. I hope you do feel up to sharing more of your writing with us some day because I think it's genuinely wonderful, as is the artwork you've paired with it. If it were a book I could buy, I'd do so in a heartbeat ❤️

I have received this request before, so here, I've polished up this opening chapter somewhat. Keep in mind, it is still a very rough draft, and I write only as a nighttime hobby, and have only rarely shared any of my work, and it is very much amateur quality, but I am proud of it.

Boots sighed as he laid his arms upon the edge of the stone battlement, staring lazily out across the village that stretched beyond the castle. It was not his, and would never be his, what with his two older brothers and father still in good health. That, at least, was fortunate, for while he was a prince he had never once desired to rule anything, not even an anthill, and especially not his fathers kingdom.

It was early spring now, and the city was bustling just the same as the swallows that were building nests in the castle towers, and the bees that were scouring the meadows for the first clover and honeyberry. He watched as ox carts filtered in through the front gates, bearing grains and textiles and fruits and metals and wood and all manner of trading goods. At first it had been just a passing fancy, but now the thought of dipping into the crowd to live amongst them was increasingly attractive.

Surely there would be a lot to learn, the townspeople would scoff at his ignorance, and any work he found would be grueling and difficult compared to his rather leisurely life in the castle, but at least it would be different. He wouldn't have to always run when summoned, have his clothes and appearance constantly fretted over, nor have to worry over his fathers bitter approval and mothers jovial rejection.

Boots sighed and rested his chin upon his hands, they were but the thoughts of a fool. Then he suddenly felt the back of his shirt pulled up and forwards, yanking him along with it. He cried out as the great void yawned out below him, and his legs kicked out wildly in the empty air.

His brother laughed before pulling him back over the battlement and letting him drop onto the cold stone. He landed in a heap, his teeth clicking on his tongue and cheek smashing against the ground.

"Careful, brother, if you lose yourself you might fall." The tall man guffawed, slapped his friend on his shoulder.

Boots sniffed and sat up, bringing a shaky hand up to investigate his bloody lip. He was regrettably used to such disgrace, and past experience had taught him it was easier not to fight back at all, no matter how he wanted to. Often he wished to wring his brother's thick neck, though his own hands were hardly large enough to wrap around it.

"If you do then they'll feed you to the monster under the castle." His brother jeered, "I heard it likes prince's best."

"There's no monster." Boots grumbled, pulling out a pebble embedded in his lip, "You think I'm a fool."

His brother reached down to ruffle Boots' hair roughly, "You weren't even born when they brought it in but I saw it. All chained up and bigger than a bear, and just as hungry. It used to terrorize the countryside and eat the traders, carts and all."

"Why not just kill it then?" Boots stared at the ground.

"To let it loose on our enemies, should we ever be sieged." His brother proclaimed, "Try to use that little brain of yours."

Boots scowled as the two men went off, sure to leave chaos in their wake. Despite his resentment he still felt quite curious. It was not the first time he had heard of such a monster, but he had passed it off as a mere rumor, like a story told by his mother to keep him from misbehaving. But his brother hardly engaged in such fanciful thinking, and Boots knew there must be something locked away, even if it was just a kenneled lion, or perhaps a cockatrice.

After his near brush with a lethal plunge he was happy to descend the many staircases and get down to ground level. Here there was little that had ever attracted him, nothing but old cobblestone and stray cats yowling for their mates. He would much rather sit and practice his flute in the bailey, with its beautiful oak trees and small pasture, or take his horse out for a jaunt. But he was so curious he couldn't help himself and trod about the inner walls of the castle, even if he was half sure that his brother had been lying, and would surely hunt him down to berate him for being so gullible.

Boots paused when he realized he had passed right by an old grate, though it looked to be nothing special. The bars were rusty and worn with age, and thicker than he had ever seen, wider than his own forearm. He could not think as to why such a grate would be there, for the prison was well on the other side of the walls, so he crouched down and narrowed his eyes to peer into the dark.

"Hello?" He asked, raising his long ears up as far as he could. He repeated the greeting once, a little louder, then felt foolish and decided he must give up this venture altogether before he humiliated himself.

Just as he turned to leave, he heard the creak of metal on metal, then the unmistakable sound of chain links clashing as they rose.

He immediately dropped back down to his knees, hesitant to get too close. He had no clue of what manner of beast this could be, perhaps a great dragon that could spit fire upon him, or an eagle that could carry away a horse, or something he could hardly imagine. He supposed next time he should bring a torch to drop through the bars so he might catch a glimpse. But perhaps it was only another prisoner, simply kept apart from the others due to some exceedingly dangerous nature.

"My brother told me there was a terrible monster kept beneath the castle." He said, his tail curling around his leg nervously.

"That is I." Came a voice like a mountain breaking in twain, like the sea crashing upon rocky spires, like the rumble of a hundred heavy hooves shaking the earth.

Boots gaped, "Of w-what manner of creature are you?" He asked, his own voice sounding so very small in comparison.

"Lonesome." The voice replied, "All my own." And in it he could hear the things sorrow, that of utter despair and consignment to its miserable fate.

"Why were you locked up, lonesome thing?" Boots felt his tail twitch with excitement.

"I did terrible things, I was very cruel, it is in my nature," The voice mourned, "All I have to think on is my many misdeeds."

"I suppose that is fair." Boots shrugged, "Do they feed you down there?"

"Never enough. Only to keep me alive, but I am so much less now than before. I cannot even break my chains." The voice replied.

"Oh, I have some snacks." Boots pulled out a bundle of shortbread he had been munching on throughout the day.

"I do not deserve it." The monster rumbled, its cadence flat and monotone.

"A little treat cannot hurt. My brother said you've been locked here for years." Boots stuffed a piece in his mouth then gently tossed the sack through the bars.

"So long I have forgotten the sun, it never passes by this place. I am ever in the dark." The unknown creature continued, and he heard the sound of its chains rattling as it investigated the sack.

"I cannot believe you are real, I was sure my brother was just tricking me again." Boots said, and realized he was surprisingly elated by this discovery. Life within the castle walls could be so dreary and monotonous, but here was something unlike anything else, something almost no one knew about.

"I must go now, or I'll be missed at my lesson. But I'll come back another day." Boots stood back up and skipped away.

"Don't leave." Came the voice behind him, sounding so muffled and weak now.

Boots was so distracted during his lesson he was admonished for not paying attention, and so excited he could hardly sleep the whole night, nor wait for a chance the next day to steal away to the monster's window. This time he came with a load of shortbread cookies stuffed into his shirt, as well as a candle so he might catch a glimpse of it.

"Good evening." Boots greeted, not feeling half so hesitant as before. He was fairly sure now the monster couldn't hurt him from behind the bars.

In response he heard only the sound of chains being dragged along a stone floor.

"It looks like it might rain tonight, does it ever flood your cell?" Boots asked, sitting down next to the bars. Try as he might, it was just as dark as before, and he could see nothing of the beast.

"Sometimes." The ragged voice sighed, catching in its throat as if it was still getting used to speech once more.

"That's a shame. How much longer will you be kept?" Boots tilted his head, "My brother said that he saw you locked away when I was but a child."

"Forever." The dark voice spoke, "There can be no punishment terrible enough for what I have done. Here I shall stay until the sun burns out."

"Oh," Boots frowned, "Do you want some cookies?" He began pulling them from his shirt and stacking them between the iron bars.

He didn't get a response and twitched his tail impatiently, "Do you have a name?"

"It is long forgotten." The monster said, his voice a thick growl.

"Oh, well I'm Boots, the king is my father." He bent over to light the candle.

"I am hardly fit to entertain royalty." Said the monster.

"Ah, I am hardly such. I'm the youngest of three brothers, I'll only ever be a prince. Luckily." Boots shrugged.

He caught sight of a glimmer of something sharp rising from the darkness to snatch up a cookie from the ledge. The flicker of his candle illuminated it just enough so he could recognize it as the hooked tip of a beak. Then he heard horrible gnashing sounds as the monster ate.

"Might I see you? I am rarely allowed to venture from the castle. All day I have to learn about the practicalities of my station, and it's very boring. My brothers hunt salamanders and jaculus, while I am shuttered at home." Boots sighed wistfully, "I did see a sea serpent once when my brother took me fishing, though."

"First tell me of the serpent, princeling." The monster requested.

Boots leaned back against the cobblestone wall, "The weather turned sour, but we were hooked onto a great fish with a nose like a spear and fins like kites. When it breached it flew nearly as high as our mast. I had to strap my brother down so he didn't go overboard, and still it pulled our boat to and fro, so great was its strength it pulled us against the current, so waves broke over our bow."

"I have never been upon the sea." The monster said softly.

"It is a beast unto itself! Like being on the back of some great stallion, which rears and shakes and lashes its wild mane across ships. And when it takes off you can only ride it out and hang tight upon the lines. As we did as we battled this fish, until my brothers' arms shook and he begged me to take the line but I couldn't, it would have drawn me right into the brine, but at least then he could have blamed me for it all." Boots laughed, "And then the clouds parted, a shaft of light turned the sea to frothing amber, and I saw a great head spear up through the waves, the fish between its jaws. It was scaled with gold and green, and its body went on and on, piercing through wave after wave. Steam shot out from its nose and it coiled about and made to sink back down. Then I had to cut the line lest my brother's arms be torn off for his stubbornness, but he still hated me for it, he never even saw the serpent."

"Is such a fish so valuable to you? Don't the merchant carts I hear every morning deliver everything you could desire?" The monster asked.

"Yes, but they can't deliver renown or victory. That is what my brother seeks, he is always out hunting and dueling. Last week he brought back a cockatrice and had it mounted above the fireplace before our mother had it taken down and burned. He was so mad he started a terrible fight at a tavern that same night." Boots laughed lightly.

"I thought your sort did not fight amongst themselves." The monster growled, "Yet you say your brother may have drowned you in the sea to save face?"

"Well we usually don't kill each other, only duel until mercy is called for. But the northern streets are dangerous, I hear. The cooks were talking about a masked killer that jumps from roof to roof, and steals in through open windows to slit throats!" Boots thumped his tail upon the ground, "And you must know we have our enemies, the kingdom to the east is forever starting trouble, raiding villages on the border until we send our soldiers to make them run off. I would love to see such a battle."

"Once this land was very different from where we now sit. Another kingdom, another castle. I think you must have killed them all." The monster said.

"Oh," Boots grimaced, the thought made him a bit uncomfortable, "But that was long ago. And it is the way of things, is it not? But perhaps if I was king I would find a way to end all wars."

"It is the way of things!" The beast raised its voice and he suddenly heard the chains rattling as it were rising upwards, "There is nothing that lives without conquering another. No sapling grows tall without choking out its siblings, no stag grows fat without devouring insects with its leaves. Even the most pampered lapdog demands blood."

"We are hardly stags nor dogs." Boots puffed, "Have some more cookies, I'll have to leave soon for my own dinner."

He watched as the beak snatched up a few more morsels from the ledge, and he caught the glint of a long tooth, so sharp he could immediately imagine how easily it could hook into his flesh.

"I brought you a candle, perhaps some light would be nice?" He pushed the candleholder upon the ledge as well, though he really just wanted to catch sight of the monster.

"To see my own ruin?" The monster groaned, "I'd rather languish in the dark."

"Well, I should like to see you." Boots said, his voice trembling, "You said you are alone in the world."

"Then I shall see you too, princeling." The monster growled with a voice like a storm that brought down forests.

Huge talons clicked as they set upon the stone, wickedly sharp and curved like an eagles, each the length of his middle finger at least. Then a long face burst forth from the dark, its sharp angles illuminated by the flickering candle. It was like a vulture mated with a wolf, its tapered, crooked snout ridged with wrinkles and beset with jagged, irregular fangs. Its eyes were narrow and seemed alight with mirth, or scorn, or sheepishness. He couldn't tell for the monster had no pupil nor iris, only a solid band of gold between its eyelids, dull and lightless.

The monster looked down at him for a moment, then took in a great breath and snorted, the gush of warm air killing the candle instantly.

Boots came again in the evening, but this time it had taken many days before he dared to meet the monster once more. Its terrible visage had struck him with such fear that he had sworn the entire venture off as ridiculous and obscene. But he simply couldn't get the thought of it out of his head. Unlike so many, it had seemed invested in his conversation for its own sake, and he still had many questions to ask. So when the rest of the castle was merrymaking at a lavish ball he stole away through the long shadows, careful to make sure no one truly noticed him. He was just the youngest of three brothers after all, and neither the smartest nor the strongest, and the lack of expectations or much responsibility gave him a certain level of freedom, in truth his absence would be a blessing.

"Good evening." He announced, "I'm sorry it's been so long."

The chains rattled and grinded in response.

"Are you lonely? Or would you rather I leave?" Boots asked trepidatiously, aware that he could very easily inflict himself upon others without a care for their desires.

"My loneliness has worn a hole through my chest and now I am a hollow thing." The monster keened.

Boots felt his heart tugged by the words and huddled up next to the window, "Don't worry, I brought snacks again." He fished out the pastries from his shirt and set them on the ledge.

"Did you bring a candle? The night is very cold." The monster asked.

"I forgot. Next time I will bring you the biggest blanket I can find." Boots thumped his tail on the ground, "I came because I must ask you a question."

"Yes?"

"You said that there used to be another people who lived here. Are you so old as to remember them? Or did you learn of it?" He asked.

"I have long forgotten how old I am. A year to you might be a day to me, but within this cage an hour feels as eternity." The monster mourned, "I am old enough I have seen many of your kings rise and fall, each the same as the last."

"Oh, they didn't impress you?" Boots rested his cheek against the stone.

"Little does. Once I could topple houses and trees like toys, I could rip a horse in twain, I could eat a hundred kings, and a thousand princes." The monster thundered, it's usually monotone voice now crackling with passion.

"How were you ever caught, then?" Boots wondered.

"Your king sent an army of horsemen to find me. For every one I slew, two more came with arrows to pierce me through, until I laid upon a mound of corpses and breathed blood." The monster gnashed its teeth and shook its chains, "The arrows were little more than needles to me, but they were dipped in poison that made me ill. I was not used to such trickery, and I was too proud to flee."

"Such a sight that must have been!" Boots gasped, "Whatever did you do to deserve that?"

The monster lowered its great head against the bars, its hooked beak sticking out between them, "I was very bad. I devoured sheep and cattle, I stole whatever I had need for, and slayed any who would stop me. Farmers and hunters and woodsmen and soldiers alike fell beneath my claws."

The monster paused and a long, shuddering breath sloughed out through its bared teeth, "I did not need to do such things, it was a madness that had taken hold of me. Now the regret torments me, I have long meditated upon my crimes."

Boots wanted to reach his hand out and pat the twisted beak that rested upon the ledge, but soon thought better of it. The monster's misery seemed so deep and pitiful to him, but it had been so shy in simply revealing itself. To be touched would surely be a shock.

"I'm sorry, lonely beast." Boots whispered.

"I am gentled now." The monster sighed, "I only wish to lay in the sun once again, or drink from a clear stream, or feel the wind in my fur. If I stay here much longer I shall surely perish, never to hear birdsong again."

"Oh, I have something close." Boots said and pulled his flute from his knapsack. He knew the instrument so well it was easy for him to lay his fingers in their familiar places along its length, even despite the dim evening light. Then he began to play, at first the notes were uncertain and wandering as he worried he would embarrass himself, but he soon found his footing and grew more confident as he focused on the music. He played one song and then the next, transitioning between them with little stumbling.

"Much prettier than a simple bird." The monster drawled, its huge, gnarled hands now laid out between the bars. Boots could easily imagine such hands reaching out to wring his neck, and yet they also seemed so placid, as if the monster was just another feral horse to tame.

Boots played until the last light had faded from the sky, like a solemn lullaby for a beast. Then he rose to pick up his things.

"Don't leave." The monster pleaded.

"The servants will notice my absence, it isn't becoming for a prince to be skulking about after dark, and if I raise too much suspicion they might seek to follow me." Boots replied.

"I do not want to be alone anymore." The monster insisted.

"I'll return again soon, you'll see." Boots consoled, and leaned down to pat the monster on the tip of its sharp snout. It was rough and weathered, and hot to the touch, as if the beast had a fever.

"If I am ever freed I would like to take you to dance." The monster called, trying to continue their conversation and draw Boots into lingering.

"Maybe. Farewell." Boots said as he left, and felt such a heavy weight in his chest he could hardly hold it.

Boots didn't return to the monster for another week, though every night he thought of it, alone in the dark with nothing but its memories to keep it company. He tried to imagine living so miserably for so many long years and the very thought made his stomach churn. Surely it had suffered enough by now, and the thought occurred that he could entreat his father of its discharge, but he knew that would be in vain, and they would both be punished for his trouble.

When he did approach the beast's window again, he almost ran off before greeting it. His chest fluttered, his head swam, but he couldn't bring himself to step closer, nor could he turn away.

The monster must have heard his footfalls, for he saw its snout stick out from between the bars, its deep exhalations kicking up clouds of dust over the cobblestones.

"Are you there?" The monster called out, unable to see him past the obstructing stone walls.

"Yes." Boots sighed and slowly approached, feeling all the more flighty for the monster's eagerness.

Then the glinting golden eyes watched him closely, and now seemed to have their own faint light within them.

"What is the matter?" The monster demanded, running its beak up and down the bars.

"Oh, nothing." Boots sighed and pulled off the blanket he had worn as a shawl, "Here, I brought you this."

The long talons yanked the blanket through the bars, then the monster shuffled and in the evening glow Boots could see that it had affixed the quilt about its shoulders just as he had worn it, though it hardly fit.

"I look quite handsome now, yes?" The monster clacked its jaw and seemed to laugh, the sound coming out as a ragged rumble.

Boots smirked with mock amusement, though in truth he felt hollow. He had been unable to get these late meetings out of his mind, but now that he was here he felt conflicted. No one, let alone a prince, should never involve himself with such a creature, no matter how pitiable. And yet he returned, with gifts to win its favor and soothe its misery.

"Something is wrong, princething." The monster rumbled, "I am old enough to know."

He tugged on his long, velvety ear, "My brother was quite mean to me today, but that's not unusual."

"How so?"

Boots sat down with a sigh, pulling all manner of fruits and pastries from his shirt, "He likes to push me about, make me trip or tug on my tail, never anything cunning. But I daren't try to retaliate or he will hurt me badly."

"Bring him here one night, I could swallow him whole." The monster snarled, its expression far too serious to be jesting.

"You'd get a stomachache!" Boots placed the snacks upon the ledge, "Have these instead. And don't worry, I'll be alright, I have lived with it long enough."

"Such a tyrant he shall make one day." The monster grumbled between bites of apple turnover, "I expect he will have me executed before a cheering crowd."

"I won't let that happen." Boots huffed.

"How so?" The monster demanded, and Boots handed it back a pastry it accidentally knocked off the ledge.

"I'll figure that out when the time comes." Boots shrugged.

"I would rather you slay me now than make me stay here for untold years." It said, voice so low that Boots felt the vibrations resounding off his own ribs, "You must free me, or kill me."

Boots stiffened, he had known it would all culminate in this request. He could gift the monster all the fine luxuries in the world, but the only thing it truly desired was to be free of its prison. He couldn't blame it, having been locked up in complete and utter solitude. And Boots did wish for its freedom as well, and pitied it greatly.

"Please." The monster scraped its beak against the stone, "Please."

"What if I am caught? I don't even know where the key is." Boots said, staring at the ground.

"The last I saw, it was in your fathers coat pocket." The monster whispered, "The one with stoat fur about the trim."

"Then I will have to sneak into his room at night. I cannot do such a thing, what if I am caught?" The very thought made his chest tight with dread.

The monster seemed to shrink, if that was possible, and sunk back into the shadows. Its face was unreadable as ever, but Boots could sense how its mood had darkened.

"Maybe I will try. But I'll have to be smart about it." Boots said urgently, suddenly feeling as if he couldn't let it down.

"I promise to be good once I am free." The monster rumbled, "I will go far away, and never again hurt another."

"I believe you, and I should very much like to see your misery end." Boots replied, "But I am a sort of coward. This is why my brother hates me after all."

"In all these long years, you are the only one who has come to talk with me. You are the only one who could do this thing, and how perfect you are for the task." The monster leaned in towards him once more, "You are a prince, and permitted within your family's wing. And you are as small and light as a feather, and as cunning as a fox. And your reputation will cloak you, they will blame some unknown saboteur, but never you."

Boots forced himself to laugh lightly, "Perhaps I should consider a career change, then."

"What does your heart long for, sparrow? What empty maw yawns inside you? What has your lofty station and the long arm of your father failed to deliver? Set me free and I will grant it unto you." The monster whispered, as if its words were a spell.

Boots didn't answer, couldn't answer, shouldn't answer. The pathway of his life was preordained, the tracks already set long ago. He was meant to live out his life within castle walls, or upon carriages or cobblestone roads, and never should he stray without reprimand, for he was the youngest and the weakest, the one that must be protected and swaddled and derided until his legs crumbled out beneath him for want of use.

"What could a monster provide me?" Boots sighed, wrapping his tail about his midsection.

"I am not just the lowly thing before you who dwells in the darkness. Once I may as well have been a king myself, with nothing in the land to rival me. Do you wish for gold? I can bleed mountains. Do you want a woman? I will bewitch the prettiest maiden with stories of your gallant nature. Do you seek fame? I can find you tomes from dead kingdoms beyond recall, or make you a magic flute with notes that ring clearer than a meltwater surge." The monster insisted, its chains scraping as it shifted with excitement.

"I don't wish for any of that." Boots said wistfully.

"Then what, little thing?" The monster's snout strained between the bars.

"I am not even sure. If I were to wish to be as strong and confident as my brothers then I would be wishing to no longer be myself. If only my father could look upon me with anything but disappointment I might then be satisfied." Boots rested his chin upon his crossed arms.

The long, twisted jaws split apart, lips wrinkling to bare teeth as sharp as needles, "That is beyond me."

Boots stood up and wiped the dust off his pants, "I will think upon your request, but I cannot promise you anything."

Despite the monster's limited ability to emote in the traditional sense, Boots could sense the mournful longing that nearly burst from it as it stared at him. It gnawed and scratched at the bars, then sank back down into the dark.

Boots ran headlong towards the monster's dungeon, nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste. He fell to his knees before the iron bars and clutched at them, panting heavily, and his tail lashing wildly.

"Hello," He whimpered urgently, "Are you awake? Hello?"

At once heard the familiar jangling of the chains, the heavy body unfurling from its long rest and rising to his level. He felt a burst of hot breath wash over his face and flinched as a sharp beak poked him right on the nose, its massive fingers curling about the bars just shy of his own. Without thinking he grabbed the snout in his hands and hugged it to his chest, as if the caged creature could somehow protect him. The fur that grew from its lower jaw was rough and wiry, the ridges along its beak jagged and sharp, but to him it may as well have been the softest embrace.

"What is wrong, thrush?" The monster asked, and he could feel the rumble of its voice passing right into his flesh, melting him.

He tried to answer, but his voice crumbled into a sob, and he pressed his cheek against the monster's snout, the only comfort that could be afforded to him.

"I smell blood." The monster growled.

"My father," He gasped, "struck me."

It didn't reply to that, for nothing could be said of the matter. It was already done, the accusations long shouted, the disgrace already seared into him. Boots cried until his face was red and puffy, his body trembling like a newborn fawn, and he was able to slowly reign in the cadence of his breaths.

"They want to send me off to be married. I have never even seen them. Whatever shall I do?" Boots whispered, the pitch of his voice spiraling like a worm caught in a robin's beak.

"I like to eat my troubles." The monster said softly, its snout extended as far as the bars permitted. Boots could see the faint outline of the rest of its head, its hairy, arched ears and two horns that grew outwards from its narrow forehead. One was broken and shattered at the base, the other tall but withered and misshapen.

"What happened to your horn?" Boots asked, and with a shaky hand he reached out and touched the broken stump. It was knobbly and bony, like that of an antler that had grown wrong.

"I broke it upon a dragon's scales when I was young. You cannot pierce a dragon's hide, I learned, but whatever is put in their jaws they will swallow without hesitation. So I filled its belly with stones until it choked." The monster recounted.

"Clever." Boots sniffed and laid his arm upon the monster's skull, his fingers splayed as he petted the rough, wiry fur. He pressed his chest over its face, resting half of his weight upon it, the motion coming far too easily to him.

"There is no such victory to be had for me." Boots lamented, tears flooding his eyes once more.

"Then you must flee." The monster urged, "As I should have when I was poisoned. Not all cages are iron and stone."

"I'm sorry lonesome thing, I think you're my only friend in the world." Boots said, breathing deeply to try and master himself. The monster smelled musky and harsh, like the stuffed bears in his fathers hall, their snarls far fiercer than any they had sported in life. He also smelled the layers of dirt and dust upon the fur, the neglect of many years like a moth eaten sweater tucked under a bed, to be forgotten until it was unrecognizable.

"Come away with me." The monster purred, grasping Boots' hand between its own and utterly engulfing his, "Let us both be free."

"Perhaps I should." Boots shuddered, "But to leave my entire life behind?"

"I have a cottage in the woods far from here. There you might make music until your heart is full." The monster soothed, "There you will never be found, and I will protect you from all harms."

Boots curled his tail about himself, and was loath to think of the moment when he must detach himself from the warm thing in his grasp and return to his cold bed. He had not thought he had grown so fond of the creature, but the prospect of running away with it did not daunt him so much as he had expected. In fact his chest fluttered with tremulous excitement, but also fear and sharp anxiety.

"Tonight I will fetch the key." Boots whispered.

He woke to the cold stone beneath him, and then great beasts snout resting upon his chest. It nuzzled him gently, long snaggleteeth tugging at his shirt until he was roused.

"The moon is high, time to go." The monster crooned, nudging Boots even as he curled up and hugged the snout even tighter.

"Maybe I should wait until tomorrow night, I'm so tired." He groaned.

"You must go now, or you shall put it off forever." The beast spoke into his flesh, then poked him in the stomach with its beak.

"Alright, alright." Boots sighed and the monster used its jaws to help him to his feet, tugging the back of his shirt like a cat carrying her kitten.

"Be as quiet as a mouse and swift as a fox." The monster hissed, "Then I shall be in your debt forever."

"There are no debts." Boots patted the monster's nose then stepped back, his fingers lingering upon its curled and creased beak. It was a rather ugly thing, all sharp angles and wrinkles and teeth and ragged fur, but at the right angle it also had a strange magnificence about it, like an old proud lion with a face full of scars.

He made to leave before he lost his courage, and marched back into the keep. At such a late hour it was entirely empty and quiet, like seeing the world standing on its own head. He crept down the halls like a ghost, entered his own room to pack a small bundle of his own belongings, then headed for his parents room.

He trembled at the door, his entire body crackling with electricity, his hair standing on end, his tail twisted about his leg like a viper. He wanted to run away, to bury himself in his own bed and sleep this all away, then maybe never visit the monster again for his shame. But then he thought of it wasting away, its last hope failed, the bitterness of betrayal making its bondage all the worse. He couldn't fail it now, not after he had made a promise. And not when the spectre of an arranged marriage loomed before him. All that he was would be undone.

He held his breath as he twisted the doorknob, cringing at every slight creak of the metal hinges as he swung the door open. Then he padded inside on bare feet, feeling the warmth of their dying fireplace and their sleeping breath, and to his relief his father continued to snore fitfully, the ragged sound drowning out his own light murmurs.

It was so dark he could all but feel the shadows resisting him like a warm fog, and he walked blind with his hands outstretched, until he was able to navigate by touch. Their ornate dresser, the paintings on the wall, and then the tall metal hanger from which his fathers impressive coat hung. As he searched for the pocket the hanger scraped along the floor and he froze, his own heartbeat booming in his ears, his blood cold as ice, his body stiff as a statue. The snoring paused momentarily, and then resumed with great volume, until he heard his mother rouse and bid his father to roll over.

Boots was rooted to the spot for a great age as he waited for them to fall back into a deep sleep, not daring to budge an inch. His feet fell asleep and his arms ached, but he refused to move and risk being caught in such a terrible circumstance. Eventually he relaxed somewhat, sure that by now they were both asleep once more, and slowly lowered his hand into the inside pocket lined with silk.

The key was smaller than he had expected, silver and inconspicuous, and he suddenly doubted it could be the right one. He wasn't about to go about searching for another, though, and stuffed it into his own pocket before shuffling backwards, tiptoeing as lightly as he could. Then he finally exited the room, gently closed the door, and breathed a deep sigh of relief. Then he rushed back through the halls, flew down the stairs, dodged the sleepy guard, and ran through the courtyard and towards the edge of the castle walls where the monster kept its long vigil.

He realized now it might be the last time he would see these stone walls in some time. He was sure he would not be gone forever, only long enough to be sorely missed, for the betrothal to be abandoned, for his family to perhaps come to appreciate some quality of his in his absence. Though he could hardly count upon the latter.

Boots crouched before the iron bars, "I have done it, look!" He grinned and twirled the key about his finger, then caught it in his palm.

"Such a shadow, you are." The monster rumbled, and then its snout suddenly struck between the bars, snapping up the key so quickly Boots could not have dodged it.

"You'll take me with you, right? You promised." Boots called into the dark as he heard the mad thrashing of chains. His chest felt tight, his thoughts raced, and for the first time a gnawing doubt began to rear its head.

He ran again through the courtyard, taking the passage that led beneath the wall, then popped out the other side. Here the night wind was chill, and rats darted out from beneath his steps. He hurried towards the huge entrance to the cage, then skidded to a frightful halt. A sharp cry broke into the night, and was cut off prematurely.

The dark, hulking form of the monster held a guard beneath its foot. Though the man in chain mail and padding writhed and struggled, he couldn't hope to free himself from the great weight that crushed down on him. Boots thought the guard barked at him to run, or it was only the remainder of his breath being driven between his teeth before ribs crunched.

He was so shocked he couldn't speak nor move, though he should be crying aloud for the monster to stop, should retreat and sound the alarm. Instead he could only stare at the wicked thing before him, all vestiges of its gentleness and promises of absolution long gone.

From head to toe the monster was crowned with wiry, coarse fur, darkening about its belly and back. A long, three forked tail lashed to and fro, beset with rows of spikes that traveled their length, and then all the way up its broad back.

After ripping off its shackles and licking the patches of angry red flesh about its wrists, the monster leaned back and sighed, stretching its limbs and cracking old joint after joint. It seemed to marvel at the freedom of movement afforded to it, and shook itself gladly, sending up a cloud of dust and shed fur and fluttering moths.

Boots coughed, then shrank back as the monster whipped around and stalked forwards to loom over him. He recognized in it none of the sympathy and sorrow from before, and while it should be thankful, its eyes were alight with a cruel kind of glee. He could see now just how formidable this monster was, why it had been such a threat that a host of knights were risked to capture it. Though it was as tall as two men, its frame was filled out with solid muscles that rippled beneath its dark fur like a prowling wildcat. Its arms were as thick as tree trunks, its chest as wide as a barge, and each finger and toe was set with claws as long and sharp daggers.

"Come away with me now." The monster purred, its narrow head set upon a powerful, sinuous neck arching down to peer right at him. Its hands reached out and Boots suddenly came alive again, dashing behind a stone pillar to put some barrier between them.

"You killed him!" Boots cried and held his face in his hands. For all the waxing and moaning the monster had done for its own misdeeds, all the talk of regret and of bettering itself, it had wasted no time in shattering the facade.

"He sat fat and happy while I languished." The monster lashed its tail, the spikes scraping furrows in the stone flooring, "And if he could have, he should have slayed me, should have made me rot for a hundred more years." Its lips curled, baring its evil rows of sharp teeth.

"Liar." Boots wept, "You could have only held him down, could have locked him in behind you."

"He does not matter." The monster scowled, "Now come, we must be quick."

Boots fell to his knees, knowing he couldn't run from the monster should it seek to restrain him. The enormity of its betrayal shattered him. When the beast approached him once more he buried his face in his hands.

The beast snarled in frustration and spun around to stalk into the dark like a lonesome tiger. Boots watched as it disappeared, and felt such a sharp pain in his heart he had to feel himself to make sure he hadn't been wounded.

He heard screams arise into the night, alarm bells rang, their clamor making his head ache. Soon enough a squad of guards arrived to investigate the scene and tend to their fallen comrade. Boots fell into the rising crowd, becoming as nameless and inconspicuous as all the rest in his common night clothes. As soon as his father arrived he took his leave, and found himself running up to a battlement on the wall to peer down.

A fire had broken out in the city, and he could make out the small specks of people fleeing their homes and filtering through the streets, confused and panicked and terrified. Huge plumes of smoke billowed into the sky, and he wondered if he was breathing in charred bone and flesh with the smell of it. He felt like a dead thing himself, a corpse brought up to stand like a marionette.

#boots & hawthorn #-runs away very fast-#also thank you kind anon <3

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monstersmashorpass · 10 months ago

Text

SMASH OR PASS: Biblical Angels: Cherubim & Seraphim, Abrahamic Religions

[Art credit, left: unknown, please let us know] [art credit, right; peregapsinar on deviantART]

Note from Mod Ghoul: Yall I learned a bit searching for credits for this one. SO. Cherubs were described to have 4 faces; a man, an ox, an eagle, and a lion. Straight legs but feet with hooves like a bull.

Seraphim were six-wings - 2 to cover their eyes (Im assuming the "face" eyes, given there's supposed to be a bunch on the wings??), two to cover their body, and two for flight. Like I knew the 6 wings thing but didn't realize there was like. Reason/logic lol

Anyways. thought that was neat and wanted to share. Esp the Cherub stuff. Wild.

Please reblog for greater sample size, as per usual!

#monster smash or pass #smash or pass poll blog #monster romance #monster lover #monster fucker #monster x human #tumblr polls #poll blog #tumblr poll blog #the polls #suggested polls #biblically accurate angel #biblically accurate Cherubim #biblically accurate cherub #biblically accurate Seraphim #Seraphim #cherubim #cherub #angels

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isthischopper · 10 months ago

Note

hi thereee, i see ur requests are open and i’d like to request…!!!!

a (if you don’t feel comfortable doing fem, g/n is fine too!) fem!s/o who ate a devil fruit that makes her a long, curly-haired lion! it also gives her a tail and ears in human-beast, beast, or normal form! and it also gives her human form hair similar to killers (long, curly-ish? luscious, you get it)

but could i request that with shanks, or zoro? possibly both if you’d like! i’m fine with either tho<3 thank you and u have amazing works!

hi! i actually love this request, and while i’ve been pretty inactive, it keeps coming back into my mind!

i’ve written a choppy little story, broken into 4 small parts. i hope you enjoy!

⁀➷ Lone Pirate

⋆ Roronoa Zoro x fem!Reader

You frequent this bar, for better or worse, a beer. Simple, effective, tasty. The bar gets quiet when you're there, the other frequents knowing not to screw around with you. You use it to your advantage, but it is a little annoying; nobody ever talks to you other than the bartender.

To be fair, you're not so talkative either.

Most pirates are the creepy-kind. Weirdos with even weirder beards and less guts than their own beer belly. Meaning... why even give them a chance?

Only a few minutes pass after your arrival, and the bar's filling up. Groups of pirates, you assume, pile in, gnarling their order and sitting at a vacant wooden table.

A younger, more colourful, group sits adjacent to you.

You paid no mind, until some burly old man tried to pick a fight. He yelled in their faces, before smashing his beer on the bar, and, successfully covering you in the foamy-sticky substance. Truly, some people have no consideration for the innocent bystander.

"Can I help you??" you snap, shooting up from your bar stool.

"Are you with them?" he spits back, bending his neck just so you could smell his rotten breath.

…them?

Before you could reconsider, you're slamming him head-first on the hard wooden bar counter, knocking him out. The other pirates looked taken off guard; presumably not expecting that reaction out of you, the rest of the patrons silent.

You decide leaving now is your best option, before someone shows up to find their friend on the floor.

***

Months later, you find yourself in the Land of Wano.

You’d heard of Kaidou’s plans for New Onigashima while searching for another island to explore. Sure, you were considered a pirate, but you weren’t in it for fame or fortune; craving the experience of it all instead. You’d explored the country, familiarized yourself with the history and culture, and joined the side of the Straw Hats— the colourful group at the bar, you came to learn.

Now: buildings are flaming, fights are raging everywhere, and the sounds of explosions are ringing in the distance constantly.

You were running the flaming halls, searching rooms for anyone injured or caught in the fire. Somehow, wrapped up in the sounds of destruction all around you, a group of men working under Kaidou slipped your ears. They’d been following you, waiting for the perfect moment to group up and take you all at once.

Who you did notice, however, was a man sprinting in your direction from down the hall. Your hair nearly stood up on end, your body screaming at you to perform some type of defence. He was looking right through you (so you thought), swords drawn, teeth bared. He looked quite intimidating; save for the green hair.

Just before he reached you, his sword swiped against another just two inches shy of your left ear. The clash slicing some of your white-blonde hair clean off. But— you had already figured it out before a single curl hit the floor.

You couldn’t help to be glad he wasn’t aiming for your neck (because he most certainly would have had it).

You had ducked under the swords upon their impact, revolving on your heel to face the group of goons. The green-haired Straw Hat already had the first three handled, so you planted your foot and pounced on the next.

It was quick work, between the two of you.

“You broke his nose.”

You hadn’t even remembered touching a nose, to be honest. You frowned, looking at the pile of defeated men on the floor.

“Which one?”

He chuckles briefly in response to your question, sliding his swords back into their respective encasing. His arms flexing effortlessly (or, maybe on purpose).

“No, at the bar that day.” he pauses “That was you, right?”

“…Depends who’s asking.” you wink.

Deciding that standing around isn’t too beneficial to the current situation, he offers you to follow. You had clicked well, bantering between brawls and fighting together like how a puzzle piece fits.

His swords and your claws working in unison.

***

Later, when the crew is celebrating the defeat of Kaidou over a drink, you’re sitting alone and taking in the view. The green haired pirate joins you, his scent alerting you of his presence before he’d sat down next to you.

“We’ll be leaving soon, It would be a shame to not have your name.” he speaks quietly, sounding much different compared to the adrenaline-fed, raspy voice you heard earlier.

Of course you knew his name, thanks to the word of Wano. People were talking about the Straw Hats everywhere, it was hard to not hear. You hadn’t considered he’d want yours.

“Y/n. Leaving me here after all we’ve been through?” you chuckle.

Kicking back, he rests his back against a rock and tucks his arms behind his head. His eyes are closed, breathing steady, but alert and conscious.

“Things to do, places to be, Luffy says.” he jokes, letting a sigh out and stretching his sore neck.

You lounge back next to him, shoulders touching. Eyes closed, the atmosphere taking over your senses. It’s serene, almost, if you tune out the hollering and music of the celebration.

His body was warm, where it met yours. You could smell the smoke and blood remaining on his skin. You really would miss him, it’s a different type of feeling to have someone you work so well with.

Fighting together, you cleared paths easily. Bonnie and Clyde, almost. What you couldn’t catch Zoro did, and you had his back in the same way. You mutually agreed on a plan every time, without any communication; it came naturally— a rare occurrence.

“Do you have a crew?” he asks.

“Mmm-mm,” you hum “Just me.”

You weren’t sure of the real meaning of this question, but soon after his fingers found their way to discreetly brush on your thigh.

***

“Who’s Zoro with over there?” Jinbe quizzes to chopper, who works to bandage a few surface scrapes.

“She’s a lone pirate!” he deduces. “A Zoan user, really strong…” he trails off, concentrating on the task at hand.

Jinbe chuckles to himself, studying the girl. It seems Chopper is right; she has the ears and tail of a lion, not to mention her mane of curly hair. He heard she had retractable claws, too. He wonders her origin.

Though, things are too joyful to be so inquisitive. He trusts Zoro’s judgment.

“A lone pirate, you say?”

“Mm, yes,” chopper confirms, stepping back to admire his work and placing his hands on his hips.

“Why do you ask?”

Jinbe chuckles again, nodding his head in the direction of Zoro and the girl. He noticed their friendliness when Zoro had first joined her, something that wasn’t too easy to come by with the green haired fire-cracker.

Jinbe leans down to match Choppers height, a mischievous grin on his face.

“I’m not sure I have seen Zoro do that before.” he states.

The click of Chopper’s feet as he turns, and then the full body shock that elopes him is enough to have Jinbe holding back a hysterical cackle. Obviously Chopper hadn’t seen it happen either.

The two of you were met for a kiss when his eyes landed on you. Slow and sensual, causing the innocent little deer to blush a deep shade of red.

Zoro’s hand held your hip just above the ruffles on your shorts, and your palm bared his chest. You were still in the same relaxed position against the rock with your bodies rotated slightly to reach, eyes closed again.

“Zoro!!??? Whaa-!!!” squeals Chopper, gaining the attention of the others.

You blush pink, but Zoro’s smug smile says it all.

What an interesting match, Jinbe thinks.

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

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goest-and-fuckest-thyself · 1 month ago

Text

✨Not Without You✨ No.4

🔥warnings🔥

All my works are 18+ I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR FAKE PAGES AND/OR RESPONSIBLE FOR ANYONE WHO READS MY CONTENT!!! LEGAL USERS BE ADVISED, I SHALL NOT BE HELD RESPONSIBLE FOR FALSIFICATIONS OF AGE ON THIS SIGHT! PLEASE DO NOT REPOST I DO NOT GIVE MY PERMISSION FOR MY WORK TO BE REPOSTED ON OTHER SITES. SHARE ALL YOU WANT ON TUMBLR

CW: General adult themes, strong language, cursing, sexual themes and innuendo, mental health struggles, characters going through pain (a lil fluff for you guys this time🥰)

WC: 3,904

As much as Butcher refused to admit it, until we could figure out Birdie’s new mind control shit, we were on lockdown. We had barely made it back to the building before Hughie was skirting around us, keeping his distance like we were lions looking to eat his dumb, twink-ish ass.

Carrying Bird up the stairs and to the couch was easy enough, but as soon as I set her down, I heard the clicking. I sighed, making sure Bird would stay put on the cushions before turning to see Hughie with the Geiger counter pointed right at me.

The clicking hastened itself as my jaw clicked with tension and my fists balled themselves up. I could feel the flush of my face, turning pink with my rising anger. The fuck was wrong with this kid? Was me going off the rails all he could think about?

“Quit that shit,” I stalked forward, snatching the device out of Hughie’s hands and smashing it to the ground. The boy gave the broken pieces a wide eyed stare before his eyes shot a glare back at me. “We have bigger things to worry about besides my chest nuke.”

“That’s the problem, mate,” Butcher grumbled, coming to stand at Hughie’s side, “we weren’t supposed to have bigger issues.”

I rolled my eyes, taking a moment to turn in a small circle. Before I faced the men again, my eyes lingered on Birdie, her chest rising and falling steadily from her place on the couch. He had a point, we were supposed to help these assholes, and they’d let us live our lives. But now? With Butcher’s attitude toward us supes, I was sure he just added her name to his list. I rubbed my temples and turned back to give him a knowing look.

“She’s not on the list, Butcher,” I snapped, pointing an authoritative finger at him.

“Then you gotta get your girl under control, cause if she does that around a bunch of civilians and can’t control it,” his eyes flashed to Bird behind me, a glance so short if I blinked I would’ve missed it. “We don’t have a choice.”

I suppressed the growl that formed in my throat, unable to do anything about the sneer that formed on my lips. I jerked around, stomping away from him so I didn’t break his ass in half. I could smell the Temp V in his system, so maybe it would take some effort, but I needed him and his team to get my revenge. Our revenge.

I slumped down onto the coffee table, gently running my knuckles over Bird’s cheek. I heard Butcher climb the stairs before I studied her sleeping form. Her face had reappeared after she’d destroyed the sanctuary compound, back to that snowy skin dotted with a few beauty marks here and there. Birdie’s powers were telekinetic, not whatever psycho bullshit that was; it made me worry. If the Ivans could put a nuclear reactor in my chest, what could Vought have done to her? She said she didn’t remember, though now I suspected that was a blatant lie.

“You think she’s gonna be okay? She seemed really rattled earlier,” Hughie asked, looking down at Bird from behind the couch. I looked up momentarily to see his eyes holding a genuine concern before continuing my petting.

“I don’t know what the fuck they did to her, and I don’t think I will unless she tells me. I’ve never seen her like that…”

I could feel the boy’s eyes on me before he let out a small sigh and earned my attention again. He leaned with both arms lazily on the back of the couch, giving me that ‘gotta be honest’ look. “I know this is gonna sound rude at first, but you gotta hear it, man. You’re both a mess.” I rolled my eyes, leaning away from Bird and crossing my arms over my chest as he continued.

“But you’ve been more calm since she got here, I haven’t had to use the counter since the motel. I only did it tonight because I see how worried you are over Liz. The only time she wasn’t antsy and bitchy yesterday was when you showed up. You haven’t told her yet, have you?”

I scoffed at the kid, standing to round the living area and pour myself a drink from the bar cart in the corner. “I don’t know what the fuck you’re on about kid, but if you don’t shut it, you won’t be going on about much else.” He let out a sigh before coming to stand in front of me again.

“You think we can’t see it? We ALL see it, Ben, you love her. It’s been, what, 94 years of knowing her, and you still haven’t said it?” He chased me with his argument as I walked back toward the coffee table, rolling my eyes as I sucked down my whiskey.

“Why’s that any of your business, asshole?” I finally shot back at Hughie, “I’m here to take out the team, and fuck off back to Philly where she and I can be at peace. Whether that’s together or not.”

The boys eyes widened slightly at me before softening and giving a thoughtfully amused smirk. “You don’t know if she feels the same!”

My jaw clenched, and I rose my glass to point a finger at him, “Shut it,” I growled through grit teeth. As Hughie was about to counter, his words were left in his throat as Birdie let out a soft groan from her place below us.

I instantly crouched down, depositing my whiskey glass on the table behind me. Birdie’s eyes fluttered open, only to clamp them closed again with a wince as the light hit her eyes.

“You okay, sweetheart?” I asked lowly, barely above a whisper. She shook her head.

“Everyone needs to stop thinking so loud,” she mumbled, swiping a hand down her face before she squinted back up at me. “I can hear you all in my head.”

“Vought must’ve screwed with your DNA, mutated your genes to allow the brain to-“ my eyes shot to Hughie, cutting him off with a glare as he started to explain science-y shit for the millionth time this week. “Sorry. I’m gonna head to bed, hope you feel better Liz.”

The boy took his leave, also climbing the iron stairs to the bedrooms. As soon as I heard the door click shut, my hand was grasping for Bird’s.

“The fuck happened back there, Birdie? I’ve never seen you be so… cruel,” I asked gently, searching her blue eyes for any sign of that green energy I saw before.

“I-I don’t know. It’s been happening all week, since I met the team. I thought it was just the migraine, some whispers here and there. But yesterday, I heard full sentences come out of Hughie without him even opening his mouth. It all just compounded when we got to countess’ place,” she explained, just as lost as I was. “I blacked out as soon as her right wrist snapped.”

I sighed, hanging my head and squeezing her hand in my own. We had to figure this shit out before Butcher did it for us. What was I gonna do with her? I was always the fuck up, the gigantic mess that she had to follow after and clean up. I was the one that got us into trouble as kids, Birdie always coming up with clever lies and excuses to get us out of it. I couldn’t even make an excuse for her with this; I didn’t even know how.

I finally looked back up to see her eyes were welled with tears, a whimper being held back in her throat. “It hurts,” she finally whined, eyes clamping shut as the tears finally rolled down her cheeks. My heart squeezed as I watched her curl in on herself, gripping my hand like a lifeline she was afraid to let go of.

“I know, I’m sorrry,” I moved to sit next to her on the couch, pulling her into my lap. She finally let out a sigh, turning into my chest as I slightly rocked us back and forth. “I’m here, ya know. I’ll be here forever if you want.”

I didn’t have to look down to feel her nod against me, her small hands now clinging to my chest plate as she let her tears come in waves, sucking in shallow breaths and whimpering into my shoulder. I squeezed her just a bit tighter and leaned back into the cushions. We stayed there quietly, sniffles coming from Bird every once in a while before her breathing finally steadied. She closed her eyes and rested against me, letting me close my eyes and rest as well.

My body relaxed into hers, yet my mind raced with ten million questions, plans, and scenarios. How was I gonna help her? I could barely control myself. What happens if Butcher doesn’t hold up his end of our deal, and she gets fucked over because of it? What if-

“Ben,” Birdie’s tired British lilt snapped me from my heavy thoughts. Without opening her eyes, she reached up to my temple with her right hand, “Stop worrying. It’s really loud.”

As she said the words, I felt my mind quiet. All feeling of doubt and worry suddenly vanished with her touch, a sense of complete calm washing over me for the first time since I’d woken up. I turned to look down on her, jaw slightly slacked and eyes a tad wide. Bird finally opened her eyes to look up at me when she let her fingers fall away from my face.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to do that,” she mumbled sheepishly, looking away from me to fiddle with her fingers and hide her gaze. I shook my head, my left forefinger and thumb coming to lift her chin to face me once more.

“No, it’s nice. Thank you,” I breathed, gazing down into those beautiful ocean blue eyes. I couldn’t help the turning of my head as Birdie stared back up with that confused expression I adored so much. It was innocent, one of quiet shock that made her eyes widen and her chest inflate with a deep breath. She looked almost concerned as I pressed my forehead to hers, breathing in her breath.

There was now only one thought in my head, the singular thought I was never able to control, not since my 21st birthday in nineteen forty. Not since Birdie raised a toast to me, praising all I’d done and how our friendship meant the world to her. I hadn’t been able to stop thinking that thought from the time she pressed a gentle kiss to my cheek, bidding me goodnight when I walked her to her apartment door. Since that night, I’d had one perpetual thought in my mind, and now, I knew she’d heard it.

“Ben-“

“You don’t have to say anything,” I practically pleaded with Bird, never leaving my place pressed against her. “You don’t have to…”

I couldn’t help myself, bringing my lips forward and taking hers in a gentle kiss. Instantly, my head filled with voices, hers, mine, others I didn’t recognise. A fire lit within my chest as I felt her press into me further, her delicate hand coming to clasp around my neck softly. I felt like I would melt in that moment, my whole body catching on fire and being doused in ice all at the same time. Finally, as Bird pulled away, taking a breath, the voices quieted, all except the ringing of my own. She then gazed back up to me.

“I love you too,” her unspoken words reverberated through my mind, quieting everything else once again.

My lips twitched upward in a wide smile, placing my forehead to hers once again with a contented sigh. I hadn’t felt this calm since before I got the V, a feeling I missed terribly. Now, my mind was quiet, nothing bustling around or causing a ruckus in my skull. Even some of my pain had subsided.

“I’ve wanted to say that since-“

“Your birthday at the Waldorf,” she giggled, gently brushing her nose against mine, arms now slung over my shoulders. “I heard you, just now.”

I leaned back, just to take her cheeks in my hands and stare into her eyes. “You’re my girl, always have been. No matter what or who I’ve done in the past, you’ve always been my number one.” She gave a small nod and leaned up to kiss me again. This one was languid and long, full of passion I’d only seen from her when she was writing.

“It’s quieter when I’m focused on you,” she whispered as she pulled away, laying herself back into my hold against my shoulder, sighing once again.

“Then focus on me,” I offered, rising from the couch with her draped over my arms. “You can focus on me as long as you need.”

I didn’t have to hear her answer to know she would agree, letting her lean into me fully as I opened my bedroom door. Bird giggled as I plopped her on the bed, earning a smile from me before I closed the door and locked it. She watched intently as I worked my armour and uniform off of myself, keeping only my black boxer briefs intact on my form. Her eyes went a little wider as I neared the bed, scanning up and down my abdomen and back to my face.

“What?” I asked, slipping into the covers before reaching for her shoulder and unclipping her fibulae.

A rose hue springs to her cheeks, hiding her gaze as I began taking her dash from her body, placing it on the beside table behind me. “I’ve never gotten used to how good you look without a shirt on,” she admitted abashedly. I chuckled and let a smirk form on my lips as I reached for the French zip at the base of her skull.

“I look better in nothing, I assure you,” I mused, noticing her heartbeat increase as she let me slide the zip down, down her spine, all the way to her tailbone.

My own breathing became heavier as I longing stared at the bare skin below her black suit. My fingers moved before I’d even given them permission, ghosting from her pelvis all the way back to the nape of her neck. Bird let out a shutter, her eyes fluttering closed as her spine curved into my touch. I could practically feel her pulse beneath my fingers as I slid them under the suit, pulling it off of her right shoulder.

“Wait,” her own hand came up to stop me before I could lower it any farther than her right collarbone. “Not tonight, please. I’m not in the best form to be-“

“Okay,” I cut her off, giving a small smile before giving a small peck to her shoulder blade and moving from the bed. “I’m sorry, I just don’t feel too well.”

I plucked another black shirt from my dresser and rounded the bed to hand it to her, taking her face in my left hand and gazing down on her seriously. “I’ve waited 83 years, two months, twelve days, and sixteen consecutive hours, baby. I can wait some more.” That furious blush once again flushed to her face and she turned away with a giddy smile, fidgeting with the shirt in her hands. “The bathroom is just across the hall.”

I placed a chaste peck to the crown of her head like I always did, letting her nod and rise from the bed to change. I could hear the water from across the hall as I laid back into the bed, lighting up a joint as I rested against the headboard. Finally, I heard the door and lights of the bathroom click shut as Bird made her way back to my room. I winked at her as she closed the door, exhaling a puff of smoke. I couldn’t help but stare as she rounded the bed to crawl in at my right, her plush thighs barely covered by the too long for her black shirt. I licked my lips as she crawled into the bed beside me.

“You keep thinking about fucking them and I’m gonna have to do the quiet thing to your brain again,” she pointedly told me, reaching for the joint between my fingers. I let her take it and exhaled once again.

“You’ve got the best pair of legs I’ve ever seen on a broad. Especially those skinny models they have nowadays. Ever since Twiggy the girls have been too thin,” I told her in earnestness. I only earned an eye roll from her as she inhaled the smoke from the spliff.

“You just like something to grab and you know it. You’ve always been handsy, you know,” she exhaled as she spoke.

I shrugged and took the joint as she passed it back, ashing it in the tray on my lap. We stayed quiet for a moment, the silence comfortable before Birdie sighed a deep, heavy sigh, shuffling to lay facing me beneath the covers.

“I do want to go back to Philadelphia with you, Ben. If you’ll have me,” her eyes practically pleaded up at me as she said the words. So, she could hear me while she slept. Not that I minded.

I ashed my joint completely, setting the ashtray down on the table to my left before I snuggled down into the bed just as Birdie had.

“I’ve always wanted to take you back home one day, retire,” I told her my old plans I’d made almost a lifetime ago, caressing her soft cheek. “Go back to that summer house my parents had at the lake. Make it ours.”

Birdie’s full lips pressed together in a thoughtful smile, the apple of her cheek swelling beneath my fingers as they did. “Then let’s go; when we’ve done our part, I want us to leave, get out of the business and just live. Finally get to be ourselves again.”

I nodded, knowing she was right. All she had to do was say the word, and I’d give her anything with in my power that I could. I’d burn the whole world for her, fuck everyone else. Birdie was my girl, now officially. I’d never let her slip from my grasp ever again.

@ladykitana90 @weaponxgames @tmb510 @criminalyetminimal @lamentationsofalonelypotato

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saint-ajax · 3 months ago

Text

༒︎ OCT. 03 | IRON MAN

༒︎ KINKTOBER

TW: 18+ ORAL SEX | FORCED BLOWJOB | ONE NIGHT STAND | P IN V SEX | NOT PULLING OUT

“Mr. Stark! Excuse me, Mr. Stark!” you run in your heels to chase the billionaire about to enter his car, only to be stopped by his security when you’ve finally reached him. You introduce your name in an attempt to stop him, “from Vanity Fair magazine. Can I ask you a couple of questions?”

You almost yell in effort for him to hear you out as had his back on you. While the man on his right is Happy Hogan, your research and observation tells you that he is Stark’s chauffeur and friend. They thought they were being slick with their whispers but you clearly see them pass signals if you were cute.

“She’s cute.”

“She’s all right?”

Tony turns around and gives you the go, “Hi, yeah, okay, go.”

As the guards free your way to approach the boss, you start. Questions well thought-out, written on your notes, tape recorder running, you smile at him. “You’ve been called the De Vinci of our time. What do you say to that?”

“Absolutely ridiculous, I don’t paint.”

He quickly answers, deadpan. You keep your eye contact straight, ready to ambush with another question.

“And what do you say to your other nickname, Merchant of Death?” your eyes slightly narrow, knowing references behind how the nickname was born.

He nods, his furrowed brows indicating he’s a touch impressed. “That’s not bad,” then he continues, guessing your college. “Let me guess, Berkeley?”

“Close enough. It’s Brown.”

“Well, Ms. Brown, it’s an imperfect world, but it’s the only one we’ve got. I guarantee you, the day weapons are no longer needed to keep the peace,” you nod as you listen intently. “I’ll start making bricks and beams for baby hospitals.”

Your eyes narrow at him, disappointed yet not surprised.

“Rehearse that much?” you bite back.

He raises an eyebrow, diva to diva. “Every night in front of the mirror before bedtime.”

You agree with a nod, “I can absolutely see that. For a diva like you.”

He smirks at your retort, “I’d like to show you first-hand.” Then, it was your turn to smirk. You admit it, he’s definitely a smash. But, you’re not going back home with a sarcastic, mocking answer after fighting to be in that spot at the moment. If it was needed, you would’ve pulled Christine Everhart’s hair just to be assigned to interview Stark. The mean bitch deserves it anyway. You've been competing with her since college.

“We’re not parting ways without a serious answer, Mr. Stark.”

You were that desperate— and flirty— enough to make threats.

“Well, you see, that just works on my end, Ms. Brown.”

��

Then you find yourself on his bed, intense make out session until the both of you find his bedroom in his gigantic mansion. Your lust is as aggressive as an untamed lion, you strip him of his clothes as you do yourself without breaking the kiss.

His goatee brushing against your skin as you meet every crash of his soft lips. He’s lying on his bed, while you lock his waist with your bare legs, you kiss his jaw. You leave a trail of kisses down his neck, as you reach down to his chest, a strong whiff of his axe body spray fills your nostrils making you chuckle.

“What?” he asks.

“I like your cologne,” you sneer.

“You think that’s funny?”

“No,” you shake your head as you snicker.

He flips over your positions easily. You’re now holding up your torso using your elbows, while he kneels, locking your body in between his legs. He was looking down at you, his cock ready to plunge into your mouth, “Let’s find out if you still find it funny choking on my dick, huh?” your expression was barely able to change when he instantly slams his hard cock on your throat. Your tongue was forced to stretch out, welcoming his warm meat. While you cough as you try to widen the opening of your mouth as your eyes look up at him.

He holds on the back of your head, pushing it down for his tip to meet the back of your throat. He slams his hips as well roughly while you make slobbering sounds, frothing the base of his stiff dick with your saliva.

He groans back as he keeps on abusing your mouth. Face fucked is what you are as you scratch his thigh, begging for air while your mascara run down your cheeks. Your plush lips meet the skin of his punic bone as he pushes down your face, while he trembles from forcing you to swallow his generous load of cum.

He finally releases your mouth, you swallow first before being able to catch your breath, your chest rising as you inhale.

But he isn’t finished just yet, he crawls down your legs, splitting them wide open before launching in to devour you. He inhales the smell of your cunt. You feel his breathing on your core as he licks it whole. Flattening his tongue on the surface of your entrance up to your woken clit.

He dips his tongue inside, using the liquid he gathered as lube on your swollen clit. Swirling his tongue on your nub makes you quiver. Then he sucks on it, licking your pussy was a great way to shut you up and make you shudder with just his tongue. Equally, you cum on his mouth. He lather on your labia, not wasting a single drop of your juices.

He rises and meets your face to kiss you, distracting you as he centers his dick and enters your pussy slowly. As you let go of the kiss, he pushes in and you moan. He drags it out and slams it back in, gentle as ever before landing on a pace to his liking. Your boobs bounces at the force of his thrusts while he holds on to your legs.

His balls slapping on your cunt was making you mewl as he stuffed your cunt full. He leans down to crash your lips with his once more. His pace was getting sloppy as your pussy tightened around his dick, causing it for him to hold back harder.

Your legs cages his back, while your arms are around his neck. He started thrusting harder and harder, pounding on you faster. He was chasing the high with you. And it was getting closer. Few more rough poundings and he was shuddering with his mouth slightly open as he reached his climax. While you whimper as another orgasm hits you.

He keeps on thrusting, savoring the pleasure. Your legs shake as his hard dick drags an orgasm out of you and fills you up of his warm, creamy load. He spurts his strings of whites inside your womb, while you, a slut for him, moans from it. Too drunk from the high to object.

“My old man had a philosophy; “Peace means having a bigger stick than the other guy,” he blurts out, catching you off guard.

“What? That’s a nice line for a guy with a big stick.”

He chuckles, considering his stick still inside of you.

“There’s your serious answer, now we part.”

He groans in your ear as he slid his dick out of your dripping cunt.

𖤐

“A beautiful morning, mademoiselle. A bright day ahead waits for you.”

A robotic manly voice wakes you. You slowly wake up, the window slowly blinding you from the, in fact, a bright day outside the ceiling to floor window. You were naked, you looked around to find clothes from last night scattered around the room. You stand up and find a great fucking view. You were definitely up the mountains as you looked down at the sea.

Once you settle and comprehend the situation in front of you, you can't find your clothes. So, you picked up Tony’s shirt from last night and wore it to find him.

You went downstairs to his living room looking for him. Until a beautiful blonde woman appears from another room seemingly holding your clothes. “I’ve got your clothes here. They’ve been dry-cleaned and pressed, and there’s a car waiting for you outside that will take you anywhere you'd like to go.”

You’ve never been grateful to a blonde woman. “You didn’t have to do that, thank you so much,” you say, genuinely grateful for saving you the trouble. “Wait. You must be the famous Pepper Potts.”

She smiles gently, “Indeed I am.”

“It is so nice to meet you. I absolutely respect you and what you do considering who you work for,” you say as you let go of the handshake.

She laughs at your jest towards Stark. “That means a lot. Thank you.” She sends you outside with a friendly chat before you make your way back home.

#ajax saint #wh0re house #marvel cinematic universe #marvel novelty universe #st. ajax's kinktober 2024 #tony stark #iron man #tony stark x reader #tony stark x you #tony stark x original female reader #tony stark smut #kinktober

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