#they match perfectly in their self-loathing… | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

wildfloweroutlaw · 26 days ago

Text

Sticky Fingers

warnings: SMUT!! minors dni. some fluff. friends to lovers. switch!azriel. unprotected sex. oral (male and female receiving). underwear fetish. a bit of voyeurism. azriel is an after care king. wing play. shadow play. i really threw the kitchen sink at this one so lmk if i missed anything!

word count: ~7k WHOOPS my fingers slipped.

a/n: reader matches azriel’s freak!! this is more fleshed out continuation of this little piece AND my first ever azriel fic. for the sake of this story, let’s just assume that you can winnow to The House of Wind because let’s be fr, only being able to fly or walk up the 10,000 steps would be such an inconvenience. and to the one person who asked for this @darkbloodsly …. thank you ❤️

⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°

Azriel’s little escapade in your bedroom a few weeks ago had been one of the most exciting things he’d done in quite some time. It was also one of the most violating. After he had returned to his room with your obscenely tiny pair of panties, he had been filled with a whirlwind of emotions. Shame. Guilt. Self loathing. But underneath all of that, the desire remained, unchecked and unbound.

Which is probably why every couple of days since that incident, he found himself staking out your room, waiting on you to leave The House so he could go in and rummage through your underwear drawer freely. He found that you had acquired a very intriguing collection. Several lacy black pairs, a pair that was a deep red and made of the softest silk, a strappy blue pair that he felt perfectly matched his siphons.

He couldn’t help but to let his mind run rampant, picturing you in every single one, picturing himself pulling them off of you. However, today’s discovery may have just been his most favorite of all.

Unsure of how he missed them all the times before, Azriel’s eyes caught on a light shade of pink. Digging to the very bottom of the drawer, he grasped the lovely material and pulled it free.

While not as daring or extravagant as some of the other items in your trove, this pair was sinfully soft and seemed so unlike anything you would normally wear. Instantly taken with the dainty pink shade and the tiny little bow adorning the front, Azriel decided that these would be his prize of the day.

Pocketing the skimpy undergarment, he sent several of his shadows through the house to ensure you were still out running errands. When they reported that the coast was clear, Azriel silently made his way down the hall and back to his own quarters.

A sick thrill went through his body and curled low in his stomach as he closed the door behind him. He pulled your lovely pink panties out of his pocket and studied them once more. Gods he should not be as turned on as he was by a pair of fucking underwear, but they were yours and they had touched you more intimately than he knew he ever would, no matter how often he dreamed of that.

Typically, Azriel held off on this part until it was late at night and everyone had already gone to sleep… but The House was empty for the next few hours and his cock was already painfully straining against his pants.

Fuck it. Pushing off the door, he made quick work of his clothes as he crossed the room to his large bed.

Laying back against his dark, plush pillows, Azriel made himself comfortable, tuning everything in the world out except for the thought of you and these godsdamned panties.

He palmed himself gently at first, the head of his cock already flushed and leaking with anticipation.

He imagined what your hands would feel like against him, how big he would look in your smaller hands, how you would stroke him. Would you prefer to pleasure him soft and tenderly? Or would you set a punishing pace with a tight grip? Azriel knew that he would let you touch him anyway you wanted to, he would let you do anything you wanted to him.

He let depraved images of all kinds fill his mind. He let himself imagine what your soft skin would feel like under his touch, let himself imagine what beautiful sounds he could pull from you. Azriel knew it was unlikely he would ever truly know, considering he had never allowed himself to openly pursue you. However, he supposed he would settle for your panties.

Finding the delicate fabric beside him on the bed, he brought the soft material that carried your sweet scent to his aching member. He shuddered at the first touch and let out a deep groan at the sensation. Several of his shadows trailed down his body, the cool sensation only adding to his pleasure. They always got rather excited when he used your undergarments in this way.

Seeing your panties against him like this always brought about a feeling of wrongness that only served to turn Azriel on even more. Now, watching the pink cloth and that fucking little bow caress his cock, he was fairly certain this could count as a sin.

And damn if that didn’t make his blood pump all the faster.

Fisting your panties against his cock, Azriel let his head fall back, soft black curls splaying upon his pillow. He allowed his mind continue to run wild with thoughts of you, deep guttural groans and soft moans of your name slipping from his lips.

⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°

You opened the front door to The House, finding the place quiet. Which made sense considering Cassian had matters to tend to in Illyria this evening, and you were supposed to meet Nesta for dinner in just a little while. Azriel most likely had plans of his own that he almost never felt inclined to share.

You had been out running errands for the last few hours, but the evening had proved to be chillier than you anticipated. You decided to just run home and grab a sweater, assuming you would probably be out late with Nesta. Kicking off your shoes by the door, you made for the stairs.

As soon as you rounded the corner to your hallway, you were greeted by several of Azriel’s shadows.

Suppose he is here then.

The wispy tendrils wrapped themselves around you and begin to gently tug you down the hall. Confused but curious, you followed along hesitantly.

“Is everything okay?” You knew you would never get a response, but you always had a habit of speaking to Azriel’s shadows. You were actually very fond of them.

Several of the shadows trailed up your arms and twined into your hair. Apparently they had grown fond of you as well. The feeling of them against your skin was always something you enjoyed, and you found their presence to be very comforting.

You allowed them to lead you past your own bedroom door and down the hall to Az’s room. You found a few more shadows waiting outside, and they too greeted you warmly. Tugging you forward, the shadows continued to urge you towards the door. “I-I don’t understand…” you whispered to the wisps of darkness.

“(Y/N).”

Your heart stuttered in your chest, and for a moment you questioned if you were hearing things. But you had heard your name, however faint. You were certain of it.

You raised your hand to knock on the door, not wanting to just barge in to Azriel’s room, even if he had presumably called out to you.

Before your fist could make contact with the wood, some of the shadows darted out, turning the knob and silently pushing the door open. You were certain your heart stopped beating as you took in the sight in front of you.

Azriel. With his head tossed back. Face dusted with pink. Large wings splayed across his bed, eyes screwed shut, plump lips parted, legs spread wide, tendrils of shadows trailing down his body.

And he was stark naked.

Oh gods. You should walk away. You should close the door and pretend you never even came home. But by the mother, he was pumping himself with his hand, hips bucking up in response, and you couldn’t help but drink in the beautiful sight and the lovely sounds tumbling from his lips.

This was wrong. You should not be here. You weren’t sure why his shadows had pulled you to his room, but Azriel’s lack of awareness of your presence made it clear this was not intended. And the longer you stood here, watching like a fucking pervert, the stronger the pulsing between your legs grew.

Suddenly your eyes caught on a piece of pink fabric clutched against Azriel’s… well, extremely large member. You quickly took note of the familiar tiny bow peaking out from his hand and you thought your heart was going to break free from your ribcage and leave you standing here like the fool that you were.

⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°

Azriel was lost in his darkest fantasies. He wasn’t sure if it was the long week he had, or the way you had looked in that dress that fit you just right before you had left The House this afternoon, but he just completely gave himself to the pleasure.

And gods he could smell you, stronger than any other time before. Your lovely scent entrapped within the fabric of your panties seemed thicker, sweeter… headier.

Azriel’s eyes flew open, shooting to the other side of the room and he saw you, standing there. Face tinged with red, eyes wide, and chest heaving against your dress.

And he wanted to die.

With an unspoken command, the mass of his shadows flocked to him, some of them unfurling themselves from where they had been twinning around you, and came to conceal his naked form. of course he had left his clothes halfway across the room.

He pushed himself up off the bed and felt heat crawling up his neck all the way to the tips of his ears. He literally could not imagine a worse scenario than this.

Fuck, you would probably hate him after this. This would ruin your friendship for sure. You would want to move out of The House, far far away from him and his demented perversions. Azriel’s mind, once filled with glorious images of you, was now flooded with a whirlwind of thoughts. And none of them were good.

“(Y/N) I-I can explain-“ Azriel managed to stammer out. How could he explain this? He doubted there was any excuse he could come up with that wouldn’t make him look creepy. Maybe you hadn’t seen the panties? He could perhaps say they weren’t yours, even if you had seen, but he wasn’t sure how long you had been standing there.

“Those are mine.” You simply stated, as if you were telling him the sky was blue.

“I…. Well, I-“ gods be damned, this would be a good time to be able to form a cohesive thought. But his racing heart and overwhelming mortification were short circuiting his brain.

“And you said my name.” You took a step forward into the doorway. Azriel’s shadows were obscuring the majority of his body, and at your words, they seemed to grow all the more restless.

Azriel briefly considered winnowing out of his room and fleeing Velaris- No, Prythian. “(Y/N) I am so sorry, shit, I can’t even begin to tell you how sorry. I-I know this is so wrong-“

You took another step forward. Well, you were already knee deep in this horrifically embarassing situation, for both of you it seemed. You may as well see where this takes you. “You can continue… if you are comfortable doing so, that is.”

Azriel’s heart stopped beating for probably the hundredth time in the last 5 minutes. “I… what?” His hazel eyes scanned your face for any sign of mockery or judgment or disgust.

“I was enjoying the show. Quite thoroughly, I must admit.” Your heart was thundering, and you were terrified of what Azriel might think. But you felt the overwhelming need to own up to invading his privacy, to watching him. To take control of this situation.

And he had very clearly been thinking of you… “If you are alright with it, you can carry on. Don’t feel like you must though. I can also leave if you’d like.” You motioned behind you to the door.

“You… aren’t angry with me?” Azriel’s shadows dissipated slightly, now he was visible to you from the chest up.

“Do I seem angry to you?” You asked, managing a smirk that you hoped made you look braver than you truly felt.

Azriel allowed himself to take you in fully now. You had been shocked, yes, but there was also something else dancing in your eyes. And your scent was slightly different than usual. He took a deep breath in, mind going quiet. You were aroused. “No. I suppose you don’t seem angry.”

Azriel allowed his shadows to slowly leave him, some of them choosing to return to you. A chill ran down his spine as he watched your eyes drink in his bare form.

He took a couple steps backward until he could rest on the edge of the bed.

He searched your face again, wanting to ensure that this was really alright with you. Finding no signs of discomfort, he plucked the dainty undergarment from the bedspread and began to tentatively work the material against his still hard cock. “Is this… what you wanted to see?”

Your chest began to rise and fall quickly again and you sucked in a breath at the sight of him. “Yes…” you sighed out, fingers going to the clasp of your dress at your neck. You quickly undid the mechanism and let the material fall and pool at your bare feet.

Azriel’s eyes widened and he let out a soft moan at the beautiful sight. You weren’t wearing a bra and stood before him in only your underwear, the tiny, lacey black pair that had originally caught his eye the very first time he thieved from your chambers.

What in the seven hells was happening? He decided not to question it, tightening his grip on his member and began to stroke more confidently.

Your eyes were glued to him, wandering from his proud wings, across his gorgeous face, down his heavily tattooed chest and muscled stomach, all the way to his scarred hand fisting your fucking panties against himself.

You had desired Azriel for so long, but he never pursued you beyond friendship. The male was notoriously difficult to read, and you were always too afraid to go beyond simply flirting with him in case he truly wasn’t interested in you. You never in your wildest dreams could have imagined this.

You took a few more steps forward, brushing your fingers against the erect tips of your breasts, sighing at the sensation. The pounding between your legs had amplified to an all out ache, and you were more than eager to find out just how far Azriel would let this go.

You now stood before him, between his spread legs, eyes locked to his hazel ones. You brushed back a stray lock of his dark hair, and lightly ran your fingers across his flushed cheek. “Do you enjoy pleasuring yourself with my panties Shadowsinger?” You let your eyes drift back down to where he worked himself.

Azriel was reveling in your sweet touches and felt there was no reason to attempt to deny the claim now. “Yes.” He groaned.

You felt a sudden surge of power, his words stroking your ego like his hand stroked his cock. “And is this the first time you’ve stolen a pair from my room for this purpose?”

Azriel tried to avert his eyes, still feeling ashamed of his actions, but your hand gripped his chin and turned his gaze up to meet yours. If his senses weren’t currently being overwhelmed with the scent of your arousal and you weren’t staring down at him like you wanted to devour him, he would have thought this was some cruel attempt to get him to confess. “No.” He answered honestly.

You smirked at his admittance and you could feel your panties growing more soaked by the second. You dropped to your knees before him and you could not deny that he looked like a god above you. He was absolutely divine. And your face was a mere foot from his cock. This was not at all how you had expected your evening to go, but you certainly weren’t complaining.

You took in the sight of his swollen tip, shaded an angry color of red from lack of release. His pre-cum had soaked both his member and the fabric of your panties, leaving him glistening in the evening light

“Fuck, you are so hard.”

Azriel moaned in response, as he watched you with curious eyes. He wasn’t sure what you were doing, but he loved that you were here with him, and seemed to be just as turned on as he was.

You inched your face a little closer, leaning between his thick thighs. “Oh Azzie, this seems rather uncomfortable. Would you allow me to help you?” You crooned as you looked up at him through your lashes.

Azriel felt like he could die happily any moment now. That nickname and the image of you, between his legs, staring up at him like that, was something that would stick with him long past the grave. However, a thousand protests rose to his mind.

He didn’t want you to feel like you had to do this. He wanted to tell you that you didn’t need to, that you shouldn’t, because he was unworthy of your touch. But he stopped himself.

Everything told him that you wanted this too, wanted him. As hard as it was to believe, he did not think you would be here, responding so… positively, if you didn’t want to. However unworthy he felt that he was, he felt the desire to be selfish more.

He had dreamed of this for so long, and now the opportunity to have you, in whatever capacity, finally has arisen. He would be damned if he didn’t seize it.

“Yes. Please.” He didn’t care if the plead sounded pathetic. He needed you to touch him. Now.

With a grin that could only be described as devilish, you gently grasped his wrist, urging his hand away from his member. He still clutched the now spoiled pink panties in his hand. You tenderly pulled them from his grip, unbunching the material and letting it dangle in the space between you two.

You studied the damp fabric, glancing between it and Azriel’s face. “You’ve made such a pretty mess of these Az. I can tell how much you like them.”

Beyond words and drowning in anticipation, Azriel could only muster a nod in response.

You tossed the underwear across the room to join your dress. Heart pounding in your chest, you slowly gripped Azriel’s cock. You tested the waters with a gentle, almost teasing stroke and you felt him throb in your hand. You quickly glanced up at his face to see if he was still okay with this.

You found him leaned back on his palms and studying you intently, eyes half lidded and filled with desire. The look of sheer need gave you a shot of courage, and you tightened your grip slightly and increased your pace.

Azriel moaned out your name and your core turned to molten at the sound.

“Does that feel good, Az?” You cooed to him, squeezing your legs together in an attempt to relieve some of the pressure there.

“Gods, yes (Y/N). Touch me however you like… please.” He could not stop staring at you, your gorgeous practically naked form, and how small your hand looked wrapped around him.

This was better than any fantasy he had ever conjured up.

You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth at his praise, loving how it sounded in his deep voice. “How about this?” You leaned forward and wrapped your lips around the head of his cock, sucking gingerly.

Azriel short circuited, his entire body shuddering from the feel of your warm, wet mouth on him. He let his head loll back and his eyes flutter closed as a guttural groan reverberated from deep in his chest. “Fuck I- yes.” He gripped the blankets beneath him.

You hummed against him in response. You always felt that Azriel was too hard on himself, punishing himself for gods knew why. You were determined to spoil him with much deserved pleasure.

You licked him from root to stem before taking him deep, one hand working what you could not fit in your mouth, and the other gently caressing his balls.

Sounds that may have been considered embarrassing to some males, spewed from Azriel. He could not help it, nor did he care to hide them. You were making him feel this good and you deserved to hear that. “Sweet girl, shit- that feels incredible.” He growled.

As you continued your ministrations, Azriel worked a hand into your hair. Not forcing your head down, or applying any pressure, just reverently caressing your locks. He finally peered down at you again, discovering you staring back up at him, head bobbing up and down his length and moaning around him. He noticed you had brought one of your hands between your legs and were grinding your clothed cunt against your palm.

You were going to kill him.

You were going to suck him within an inch of his life, and the sight of you touching yourself to pleasuring him was going to send him on to the after life.

Just as Azriel was about to pull you off of him, you released his cock with a pop of your lips. You stood then, placing your hands on Azriel’s firm chest and urging him backwards. “Lay in the center of the bed for me please, Azzie.” You asked sweetly.

Azriel nodded and found himself scrambling backwards, doing as you said and moving to lay back. Azriel rarely ever relinquished control in the bedroom, preferring to service his lovers to their liking. However, he felt very comfortable following your lead and this was actually really lovely. Well, it was far beyond lovely.

You moved to hover over him, straddling his waist and you felt a thrill surge through your body at the sight of the massive Illyrian warrior beneath you. “Is it alright if I try something else?” You asked, still unsure about how much Azriel wanted from you.

He gingerly grasped your hand, one of the first few touches he had allowed himself since this all began, and guided it to his chest where he pinned it beneath his own larger hand. “Of course,” he rasped, “I told you already. Touch me however you like… I am yours.” The admission was vulnerable, but felt so right to him.

Your heart clenched at his words and you nodded, lowering your hips to his. You began to slowly, but firmly grind your still clothed pussy against his length, loosing an airy moan in response to the glorious contact.

“I bet my panties feel much better like this, hm?” You leaned down to murmur in his ear, nipping at his lobe.

Azriel shuddered underneath you, wings twitching against the sheets. “Y-yes, (Y/N). So much better.” His hands hesitantly reached up to grip your waist, giving you time to protest if you wanted. When you showed no objections, he tightened his hold on you and pulled you down against him, harder. Azriel delighted in the noise he drew from you.

He continued dragging your hips across him, both of you breathless at the sensation. “Gods above, you are so gorgeous…” He let one hand travel up to your breast, stroking a thumb across a hard nipple and smiling to himself when you cried out.

“Would you like to see what you’ve done to me?” You breathed against his neck, a hand tracing circles against his chest.

Azriel nodded, then almost protested when you pulled away from him. That was until he saw you standing at the end of the bed, slowly shimmying out of your panties. His breath hitched to see you completely and utterly bare before him, then sputtered out of him when he took in the way you crawled up the bed towards him.

Kneeling beside him, you pressed the soaked cotton of your underwear into Azriel’s hand. “You’ve turned me into a complete mess Az…” you confessed.

Azriel took in the absolutely drenched material, and let out an almost animalistic groan when he scented your arousal coating the fabric. “All of this is for me? I’ve barely gotten the chance to touch you yet.” He would be lying if he said that wasn’t a major boost to his ego.

He slipped an arm around your waist and turned, pinning you beneath him and slotting himself between your legs. “Let me change that…”

He pressed messy kisses along the length of your neck, sharp teeth grazing over a particularly sensitive area. Azriel reveled in the sound of your breathless moan and the way you pulled him tighter.

He dipped his head to lav at a nipple, rolling the other between his thumb and forefinger before latching his lips around the sensitive bud. Azriel slid a well muscled thigh against your leaking cunt, applying just enough pressure to have you gasping for air.

He did not miss how you rocked your hips against him, desperate for friction.

Thus far, Azriel had allowed you to take the lead, to show him how much you wanted from him, making him feel better than anyone ever had before. Now, Azriel wanted to return the favor and show you how good he can make you feel.

He kissed a path between your breasts and down your stomach, glancing up to find your bottom lip between your teeth and eyes pressed closed. He worked his way lower, and lower, until all he could smell was your heated sweetness.

He inhaled deeply, and let out a long breath that fanned against your sensitive cunt, causing chills to erupt all over your body.

Guiding each of your legs over his shoulders, his hands found purchase on your thighs, spreading you open for him. He placed a couple of gentle nips along the inside of your thigh, before softly asking “Is this alright?”

“Yes. Gods, yes.” You excitedly nodded your head, as if you took too long to answer he may change his mind. Although, a quick glance down at Azriel’s face told you that wasn’t the case. He stared up at you like you were his favorite meal. You lifted your hips slightly, urging yourself closer to his mouth.

He huffed a laugh before pinning you back down to the bed. “Try to stay still for me, sweet girl. Want to make you feel good.” And then his tongue was upon you. He licked a strip right up your center, expertly locating the sensitive bundle of nerves and swirling around it.

White hot pleasure shot up your spine, and you cried out. Hands searching for more contact, you reached down and entangled your fingers in his dark locks, Azriel rewarding you with a low growl when you pulled slightly.

His mouth was maddening. It was like he already knew all of your favorite things as he stroked your clit with the warm velvet of his tongue. Every time you managed to crack your eyes open, you found hazel ones staring back at you, full of hunger and reverence. He kept your hips throughly pinned down, leaving you no choice but to take everything he was giving you.

Suddenly, you felt a cool brush against your collar bone and looked down to find several of his shadows curiously exploring you. The inky tendrils wound themselves around your nipples, the ghost of a touch just enough to drive you crazy, just as Azriel wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked.

Every thought in your head ceased to exist and your back arched away from the sheets. A wanton scream tore its way up your throat and you fisted Azriel’s hair tightly, which only seemed to spur him on more.

“Fuck Azriel, there- yes!” You babbled as his grip on your hips loosened slightly, allowing you to wind your hips against his mouth. And mother above he was moaning into your pussy and… oh gods.

You raised your head and watched him unabashedly rut into the mattress, just as needy as you were.

And that was nearly your breaking point. Seeing this beautiful male, wings spread behind him, letting you fuck yourself on his face, shadows twining around your body. You were not like to forget this as long as you lived.

Right as you teetered on the edge of oblivion, you pulled him off of you quickly. “Azriel… need you. Want to cum on your cock. Please.”

“As you wish.” Azriel rose slowly, chin glistening with your slick, and placed his aching cock where his face had just been.

He leaned down and studied your pretty face intently, sliding one scarred hand to your jaw. He then pressed his lips against yours, the kiss searing his very soul.

This was the first time his lips had ever touched yours, other than that one drunken night when you all had played spin the bottle. Although that kiss had kept him up for many nights, it was nothing like this.

“Can you taste yourself? Can you taste how sweet you are? Could spend an eternity with my face between those beautiful legs…” Az mumbled against you.

“Y-yes. I want you to show me more of what you can do with that mouth another time.” You grinned up at him.

Another time. His heart leapt at that. Azriel had not allowed himself to think past this moment, for fear that this could be the first and only time he experienced you this way. Yes, he could show you everything he knew and more.

Grabbing the base of his cock, he lined himself up with your entrance, and pressed his forehead against yours. He ever so slightly began to push in. You were soaking wet, but you were also extremely tight and the last thing he wanted to do was hurt you.

The stretch burned, but not in a way that was painful, just uncomfortable. Holy gods he was huge. You felt his shadows run up and down your arms in a soothing caress, Azriel’s hand at your waist mimicking their motions.

Once his hips were flush with yours, you both sat utterly still, chests heaving against each other. Azriel fought back the urge to thrust as he allowed your body to adjust to his size. “Are you alright, Princess?” He cooed, pressing a tender kiss to your cheek.

“Yes… Azzie. Please.” You began to squirm underneath him, unable to patiently wait any longer.

“I know, sweet girl. I just don’t want to hurt you.” He brushed a loose strand of hair back that had fallen into your face.

“I appreciate your concern Azriel, but I will die if you don’t move. I need you to move.” You pleaded, fingers digging into his muscular shoulders.

Without another moment of hesitation, Azriel slowly drew out of you before pressing back in to the hilt. He had never, never, felt anything as good as this before. He knew that with just the first fucking stroke, he was losing himself to you

“Fucking hells (Y/N). You’re so godsdamned tight… feel so good on my cock sweet girl.”

You cried out at both the sensation and his words, any feelings of discomfort giving way to burning hot pleasure as Azriel fucked you slow and deep. The normally stoic and reserved Shadowsinger was passionate, shocking you with how intently and thoroughly he was loving you.

Azriel angled his hips, rutting in to you at a slightly faster pace now. He buried his face deep into your neck, panting and moaning like he was young male all over again. He was trying his best to fuck you the way you deserved, but it was already so difficult to not unravel completely.

“Azriel…” you moaned his name like it was a prayer, “gods you’re so big… stretching me out just right. You have no idea how many times I’ve thought about this.” You pulled his face to yours for another searing kiss, carding your fingers through his soft hair.

Azriel was genuinely surprised that you had thought about this with him, and the confession only turned him on more. He sped up his pace more, pulling back slightly to watch you.

And you stared back at him. You took in the massive wings looming behind Azriel, noticing how they twitched every so often, like they were restless. You remembered one drunken night that Azriel had admitted to you that the rumors about Illyrian wings were in fact true, but that he very rarely felt comfortable enough to allow his lovers to actually touch them.

You wanted so badly to run your fingers down the beautiful membrane. Not only to see his reaction for yourself, but also because you wanted to feel special to him.

Maybe that was foolish, and maybe this whole situation was no more than a manifestation of your shared physical attraction and nothing more. But you could not stop yourself from wanting. “Az… may I touch your wings?” You asked nervously, afraid to ruin the moment.

Azriel drove home a particularly deep stroke, causing you to cry out and tremble around him. His hand came up to guide your eyes to his, and his stare was molten. “I’ve already told you baby, touch me however you like.”

Your heart squeezed at the fact that he felt safe enough with you to allow you to touch him in a way he rarely let others.

You nodded, taking in his words through the haze of pleasure. You reached out slowly, fingertips just inches from his wings. “H-how?” Your hand remained hovering in the air, unsure.

He huffed a laugh that turned into a groan as his hips met yours. “However feels natural to you. There’s no wrong way, just be gentle.” He extended a wing, offering you better access.

You searched his face for any signs of discomfort or hesitancy. Finding none, you simply nodded and ever so lightly grazed your finger tips across the ridge of his wing.

Azriel’s entire body went taught as a bowstring before he shook, the most delectable whimper working its way out of him. His fingers found that sensitive bundle of nerves between your legs and began to draw quick, tight circles against it.

You were certain the entirety of Velaris could hear your sounds of pleasure now. You placed another exploratory stroke on a different part of his wing, and continued when you saw the way Azriel’s eyes screwed shut and his brow furrowed.

“If you keep doing that you are going to make me-“ Azriel was interrupted when the soft pads of your fingers rubbed against a particularly sensitive spot.

His hips faltered, a string of curses tumbling from his lips as he went careening over the edge and into the abyss of ecstasy, crying out your name and hips snapping against yours.

At the feel of his fingers against your clit, his shadows caressing your body, and his warm seed pumping deep inside you, you came completely undone on his cock. Consumed by burning pleasure, all thoughts eddied out of your brain except for Azriel.

For several moments the two of you remained there, chests heaving against each other, both attempting to unscramble your minds. Azriel eventually pulled out rather reluctantly. “Sit tight.” He murmured against your heated skin, before disappearing from sight.

Minutes later, Azriel reappeared with a wet rag in one hand and a glass of ice water in the other. He set the glass on the table before turning back to you, using the rag to clean you up. “Are you alright?” His eyes flickered between your face and his hands.

You nodded, a grin blooming on your face. “I think I’m more than alright Az. Are you alright?” You parroted his question back to him.

“Yeah. Yes. I am… maybe a little surprised that we somehow ended up here, but I’m glad that we did.” He offered you a grin to match your own that showed his dimples.

His hand found your back, helping you to sit up, and he situated you against the mountain of pillows on his bed before handing you the glass of water. “Here. Drink.”

You accepted the refreshing drink greedily, drinking about half the glass in just a few gulps. Offering the drink back to Azriel, you cleared your throat. “I myself am surprised as well. This was… not really what I expected of my evening. Or ever honestly.” You gave a small shrug.

Azriel settled in beside you, pulling the fluffy duvet up to cover you both. “(Y/N) I do really need to apologize for what I did-what I’ve been doing…” he studied his lap intently, suddenly finding the bed spread mighty interesting.

“It was wrong. Very wrong. I shouldn’t have entered your room without your permission, let alone rummage through your dresser and…” he trailed off, feeling red hot shame creep up his neck.

“And steal my underwear?” You finished for him, brows raising in amusement.

“Yes. That. It was an extreme invasion of your privacy, and wrong on so many levels. If you never want to speak of this again, or never want to speak to me again… I would understand.” Azriel could not bring himself to look at you, to see what you might be feeling.

You gripped his jaw, guiding his gaze back to you. “Az… I told you already, I’m not angry with you. I felt like I proved that rather thoroughly, but I will say it again. You are my friend Azriel. None of this changes that fact. If you are open to it, I’d actually like to do more of… this.” You motioned between the two of you and gave him a big smile.

“I-I am definitely open to it. I would like that very much. I guess you could say I’ve had a bit of a crush on you for a while now…” Azriel glanced at you with heated cheeks and a dimple peeking out as he rubbed the back of his neck.

You let out a breathless laugh, the sound making Azriel’s heart jump in his chest. “Well I guess I can now admit that the feeling is mutual.” You snuggled down into the pillows further, cherishing the warmth of his body next to yours.

Azriel turned to you, propping his head up on a fist. “Are you hungry?”

“Starving. I was actually supposed to meet Nesta for dinner.” You glanced to the window in Azriel’s room, noticing that the sun had already slipped below the ridge. “She is probably pissed I stood her up, but there’s no sense in going now… and I’d like to stay with you.”

Azriel grinned at you then. “Well perhaps you would consider sharing a meal with me? We can stay here if you want.”

You agreed eagerly and Azriel offered you one of his large, but incredibly soft shirts to wear even though your room was just down the hall. You cherished the feel of the material against your otherwise naked body, his scent surrounding you, the shirt reaching your knees. It made you feel special.

Azriel had the house whip you up your favorite foods and the two of you stayed in his room for the remainder of the evening, chatting and swapping stories as usual. However things definitely felt…. different between the two of you. But in a good way. In the best way.

You must have dozed off eventually, because you awoke to the early morning sun spilling in through Azriel’s parted curtains. You quickly realized that Azriel himself was curled around you, one arm slung over your waist and your back pressed to his chest.

Feeling you stir, he mumbled a groggy good morning, voice rough with sleep. You would be lying if you said the sound didn’t send heat straight to your core all over again.

You turned in his grip to face him, “good morning…” you brushed a couple of your wild strands of hair back from your face and cleared your throat. “I’m sorry if I have over stayed my welcome. I didn’t intend to fall asleep here last night.” You studied his face for any sign of annoyance.

One side of his lips tipped up in a lazy grin, revealing a dimple. “Nonsense. I’ve enjoyed your company... even if you did snore.”

Your eyes widened for a moment, face growing hot. “I do not snore Azriel! I think I would know if I did.” You protested, brow furrowing.

Azriel’s grin only grew, amusement sparkling in his eyes. “And how would you know that?”

“Well I’ve never had any complaints about it before.” You explained, praying to the gods that you actually didn’t snore the very first night you ever spent in Azriel’s bed.

Tracing lazy circles on your side, Azriel’s eyes perused your form. You looked so beautiful wrapped in his huge shirt, blankets pulled up over your hips, hair askew in a thousand different directions.

“Perhaps they were just too polite to mention it?” His gaze flicked back up to yours, unable to hide his full on smile at your flustered responses to his teasing.

“You could have done me the same courtesy, asshole.” You shoved his bare chest playfully causing a laugh to spill from Azriel’s lips. Despite what happened yesterday, things felt… comfortable.

You reluctantly untangled yourself from his arms, sitting up to stretch. “I better go inform Nesta that I’m still alive. She’s probably assuming someone kidnapped me last night.”

“I pity the person who would try to kidnap you.” Azriel placed an arm behind his head, watching you shuffle out of the bed, secretly wishing you would stay longer.

You snorted. “True. I also better find a peace offering to give her as well, as an apology for flaking on our dinner date.” You turned to Azriel then, drinking in the sight of him sprawled on his back, blankets pooling around his waist, tattoos swirling down his bare chest and arms. Gods, he was delectable and you wanted to jump his bones all over again.

Azriel was staring at you as well, admiring the length of your bare legs and how his shirt hung down to almost your knees. A surge of male satisfaction flowed through him at the sight. “I think that’s a good idea. I apologize for ruining your plans.” Azriel wasn’t sorry in the slightest.

You gave him another big smile, something you found happening very frequently when he was around. “You can ruin my plans anytime you’d like Shadowsinger.” You began gathering your belongings, preparing to make the trek down the hall to your own quarters. “I’ll see you later, yeah?”

Azriel nodded. “Anytime you’d like.” He parroted your earlier words back to you.

You bid Azriel goodbye and began making your way out the door, your pile of clothes filing your arms, when you heard Az call out your name.

Turning back towards him, you found him holding up your lacy black panties from yesterday, a smirk plastered on his face. “I think you’re forgetting these.”

You gave a one shouldered shrug, one corner of your lips curling to match Azriel’s. “You can just hang on to those for me.” Watching his eyes widen, you closed the door behind you, smiling all the way down the hall to your own room, and already counting down the seconds until you could see the Shadowsinger again.

⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°

EEEEK i had SO much fun writing this!! feel free to let me know what you liked, i always appreciate feedback 🫶🏼.

#acotar #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #azriel x reader smut #switch!azriel #acotar smut #azriel acotar #sarah j mass #sjmaas #azriel fic

960 notes · View notes

munsonmuses · 8 months ago

Text

Emperor Geta x Fem! Reader

Warnings: smut, gladiatorial combat, animalistic tendencies, uhhhg there’s a breeding kink. This was not proofread.

Word Count: 2.3k

Authors Comments: Iiiii was a major Roman Empire nerd as a kid, so if there’s stuff you’re like “that seemed specific” about? I promise you the research was done and I had to consult my notebooks from when I was a teeny tot (like a young teen). And yes, thumbs up signified death because it represented an upturned sword for combat, and the thumbs down signified sparing the loser, by turning your sword down to sheath

The light fabric of the linen chiton you wore felt like chains, the beautiful gold brooches holding it in place and the belt that rested low on your waist like the shackles. Leading you to a life you’d never wanted. To a future you knew you’d loathe so deeply. This wasn’t the life you’d dreamt of as a young woman. Bringing peace to an empire, marrying a man who was made perfectly for you by the gods.

All of these opportunities had been ripped from between your fingers. Your life slipped away the moment you’d heard that Emperor Geta had set his sights on you. He was callous, pompous, the human equivalent of a promenading lion. He thought nothing but the best of himself, and believed he deserved things equally as good. One of those things being you.

Your finger delicately worked on adjusting the raw leather straps of your sandals. The stephane felt like it was weighting your whole body down, veil swishing against your nape, sending chills down your spine. That the earth may swallow you whole in one fell motion was a wishful thought as you carefully examined the large hall.

It was egregious, how much gold one man could have. How many statues of himself an individual could bare to own. Slowly standing from the large chaise you’d been guided too and approaching one. tracing the curve of his nose, the apples of his cheeks. The manic look they’d managed to capture in his marble portrait, captured perfectly within the massive pupils. Scoffing lightly before hearing a laugh from behind you that caused your skin to pebble viciously. Turning around to face him.

The statue somehow didn’t manage to perfectly capture his mania. Pupils so wide they looked almost entirely black. A wolfish grin. His entire body reeked of need and want.

“You, are even more beautiful than Caracalla described…just look at you-“ his hands clamped down on your upper arms. Holding you in place as he hummed. “You’ll do nicely…” he murmured as you quirked a brow lightly.

You prayed that when you asked, he’d give you a different answer than what you’d been prepared for. Not wanting to surrender yourself to matrimony with a man so viciously bloodthirsty and self righteous. “What will I do nicely for, imperator?” You whispered as he let his eyes glaze over your body. Taking in every inch of you before nodding.

“Don’t be silly, you know what I brought you here for. I have chosen you to be my empress. Not Caracalla’s. Strictly my own.” He insisted as he moved a hand up to grip your jaw while humming. “You’ll take to the role with pride. A loving and affectionate empress…and you’ll give me my sons to lead the future of my empire once my time has come. Am I understood?” He questioned as you scoffed lightly to yourself. Fixing your rings and pulling away. Pacing the large floor of the hall as he kept his eyes on you. Ready to pounce if necessary.

“I am marrying you strictly for familial agreement. Through my loyalty for my empire and my dedication to my familial name…it has nothing to do with you.” You murmured as he sucked on his teeth lightly. You weren’t afraid of him, you saw yourself as an independent being, even a possible equal. An equal amount of hatred that matched his levels of obsession. Overall, he was clearly agitated by your lack of throwing yourself at him, the need for you to desperately present yourself to him. Though he wouldn’t push it. To get you out from under Caracalla’s thumb was difficult enough, so he’d take what he could get.

“Your chambers are prepared, you’ll be dressed for our wedding and you’ll smile. You’ll be grateful.” He ordered as you nodded, allowing the two women by the doorway to follow you out as you sighed in frustration to yourself.

These women were terrified to touch you, though they attempted to feebly conceal their terror as you hummed. Hair carefully arranged with an orange veil placed atop. Slipping into the white woven fabric of your wedding tunic, and slipped on orange sandals. Careful with them as you worked on fastening the knot of Hercules around your waist. Nodding slowly as you assessed yourself in the mirror.

It felt like lead lined your stomach as you approached the large garden, eyes meeting with Geta’s own. Your family and his court clearly anxiously awaiting your arrival. Your dowry had been exchanged, and Geta grinned delightedly at the sight of you approaching. Wringing his fingers, rings loudly knocking together as you frowned in mild fury. He was childish and cocky and self absorbed, albeit a bit handsome.

You stopped in front of him as the two of you read over the marriage contract. His eyes constantly flicking up to you as you lifted your metal pen from the inkwell. Scrawling your name with confidence as he followed suit. His hand suddenly clutching your left wrist as your head whipped to look at him. Geta removing the thick red stoned ring upon one of his fingers and slipping it onto one of your own as he hummed contentedly. Clearly awaiting reciprocation for his affections.

You carefully took his face, pressing a pursed lip kiss to his own plush pink lips as he cradled the back of your head and your waist. Satisfied with his win. Cementing your future with your new husband, as empress.

Your wedding was a few months ago, and in that time you’d been growing to know, like, and even love Geta. Although shrouded in cruel mystery, he did have a tender heart when it came to you. Gifting you lavishly, bathing you in riches and praise. You’d never gone to bed on an empty stomach, and you managed to share romantic pleasantries with him regularly.

You sat beside him as you watched a battle in the coliseum. Head perched on your fist in boredom as he smiled wide at you. The folds of your brooches and adornments complimenting the rich purples of your own robes. Your stephane crooked as his hand delicately reached up to adjust it. “Isn’t this delightful my heart?” He whispered eagerly as you scoffed in light amusement. Grinning lightly at him as you kissed his rings lightly.

“It’s alright. Gladiator fights have never…settled my nerves. If anything the bloodsport terrifies me…” you murmured as his own lips pulled into a tight frown. Though unlike usual, he didn’t have a smart or cold comment to make.

You carefully watched the two men fight, though you could barely call them that. Barely older than sixteen a piece as you chewed on your lip. The larger of the two slamming his sword into the smaller boys shield. Reminding you of the kind boys you’d known in your youth who had the whole world in front of them, stolen in war. Your heart heavy at the sight.

Geta’s eyes were trained on you. Noticing the paleness in your face, watering eyes as you left your chair to look over the edge of the balcony at these boys. Heart pounding in your ears as he sighed. He was furious, he was angry…love had “weakened” him, was what Caracalla had lamented before. But in his eyes, it simply made him better for you. Being weak for one’s own wife was impossible.

Your head whipped to look at him as the smaller boy was bloodied and bruised. Whipped to the ground by his foe as Geta stood slowly for the crowd to see.

He lifted his hand slowly, glancing over at you as his thumb rested on its side. He would typically give a thumbs up, signaling the death of the weaker boy…but instead his thumb dropped. The crowd gasping at the young man being spared at the Emperors command.

Geta’s eyes flicked to you one last time. Seeing nothing but adoration in them as he dismissed his co-contributors frustrated muttering, walking off with you to your shared chambers as he hummed in your ear.

“You’re welcome…” he whispered as you rolled your eyes lightly at him. Kissing his cheek lightly as you closed the large doors behind yourself.

With your back to him, you slowly worked on unhooking the brooches of your chiton, letting the fabric pool at your feet as you worked on removing your sandals slowly. Hearing his movements stop, eyes on you as you grinned lightly over your shoulder.

“You have shown such monumental growth…and kindness…and change, my emperor…” you whispered as you stalked towards him. His breath shaky and heavy as he carefully nodded. “I am so amazed by you…” you murmured as he watched your hands making work of the fasteners on his own tunic. It slipping down his shoulders as you smiled.

“I want…to reward you,” you murmured into his ear. Geta was a man who worked on praise, adoration and reward. He needed something for every “accomplishment” he made. This time you’d give him something more.

He let himself be lied back on your massive bed, his cock slowly hardening. Pressed to his stomach. Cheeks and chest flushed as you hummed lightly to yourself. He deserved this, even if it was simple human decency…it was a major turning point for him.

You kissed along his jaw, down his neck, his chest. Lightly nipping at his flushed skin as you worked lower and lower. Pressing kisses down his stomach and licking along the light indentations of his abs before finally paying attention to his desperate cock.

Already twitching lightly, Geta was not a hard man to work up. Lightly pressing warm, open mouthed kisses along his shaft. Tenderly massaging his balls as he whimpered lightly at your ministrations. Following your movements with frantic eyes.

He shivered lightly as he felt your lips lightly wrap around his tip. Lazily sucking and stroking the rest of his shaft lightly. Having used your kisses from earlier as a bit of lubrication. Stroking in time with your slowly bobbing head. Every few moments getting lower and lower. Relishing on the velvety feeling of his thick cock against your tongue. Finally taking your hand away and placing it on his hip. The other taking his right hand and leading it to the back of your head as he trembled lightly. “My heart…please-“ his whisper wasn’t much more than a breath.

The lewd noises of you taking him deep down your throat, slowly sucking while hollowing out your cheeks. Obediently tending to his needs as you groaned desperately against him. Your free hand trailing downward to massage your own clit as he bucked his hips lightly.

“You tease me…” he growled out. “With your desperate hands, your heavenly mouth, your body on full display…you tear me into nothing but tatters of a man…and you relish in my desperation,” he hissed as you pulled your head off.

Stroking his cock lightly as you maintained eye contact with him. Your own blown out with need and want as you continued to tend to your own clit. Sensitive bud twitching under your small, circular motions. Geta’s eyes trained on simply you. Filled with nothing but love and obsession as he growled.

Taking your wrists firmly, he pulled your hands away from both of your own sensitive bodies. Working on lying you back as he pressed his lips to your ear. “You’re a temptress…and you’ll understand just how deeply I want for you…and you’ll give me my sons,” he hissed as he worked one of your legs up around his waist. Keeping one hand on your wrists, pinned above your head as he lined himself up with your wanting cunt. Slowly easing himself into you.

You could feel every vein, every curve. A desperate moan being ripped from you as you arched your back lightly. Geta’s soft laugh and heaving breaths the only other noise you could focus on. His mouth greedily kissing along your soft skin. Nipping at your shoulders and neck. Trailing down to your breasts. Lightly taking your left nipple between his teeth. Sucking and nipping at the sensitive bud while lazily rolling his hips. Breeding you on his terms.

“Fucking…mnghhh…you’re so good~” he mumbled between mouthfuls of greedy kisses. His thrusts short and swift. Though deep enough to give that knot in your stomach a bit of reprieve. Humming contentedly to himself as he watched your lust clouded eyes. “I can’t promise that you’ll be able to do much once im finished…” he murmured as he began to focus on his thrusts.

Deep and swift, pressing deep into your twitching cunt, your wrists finally free of his grasp as your arms wrapped around his shoulders. Holding him close as he fucked deeper into you. “It’s a blessing, to get to carry the future of our empire. Thank me for blessing you…” he growled out as he held your hips firmly. Your moans in time with his thrusts as you struggled to form a single coherent thought.

“Fuck!…thank you, for allow-…allowing me to carry your heirs, and the future of Rome!” Your voice cracked between moans as he laughed lightly. Working on bringing you to your orgasm as he hummed.

Your body felt like it was ablaze, each thrust causing that knot to unravel further and further. Whimpering in desperation and squawking desperately before letting your head fall back. His name spilling past your lips before feeling that knot come undone. Mouth falling open in incoherent babbles as Geta fucked you through your orgasm. Making sure you were thoroughly satisfied and gritting his teeth.

Unable to hold himself back much longer, his thrusts became short and swift before he hilted himself deep within you and came. His own mutters just broken up syllables of your name, trembling arms, and weak kisses along your skin. His body collapsing upon your own as he pressed hot and gentle kisses to your skin.

“I love you…” he murmured, allowing his eyes to close as you lightly combed through his hair. Your own growing heavy as you sighed.

“I love you too…”

#emperor geta x reader #emperor geta #joseph quinn #Joseph Quinn Cinematic Universe #JQCU #addiewrites #gladiator 2 #gladiator Joseph Quinn #emperor geta just one chance please

3K notes · View notes

bucketsofmonsters · 2 years ago

Text

On The Altar

cw: kidnapping, size difference, attempted human sacrifice, indoctrination, culty vibes, blood, hunting animals for food, self-loathing, allusions to drowning, heights, non-human genitalia, voyeurism, oral sex, threesome, unprotected sex, everyone in this is having a rough time

male dragon x male knight x fem reader

word count: 12k

Your breath caught as you stared at yourself in the mirror and a sort of disappointment washed over you. The white ceremonial dress draped across your form, fitted perfectly to you.

You were supposed to look better than you ever had. Your heart sank a little when realized you didn’t think you did.

Your birthday a few months ago. You thought you looked better then.

You should have toned it down, not given yourself such a high bar to clear. It was your own fault, really.

It had just been your last one. You'd wanted to make it count

Your head felt heavy with the ceremonial braids in your hair and the golden crown atop your head. It matched the rest of your accessories. Golden bracelets and necklaces and cuffs that circled your biceps.

You wondered if it was real gold. Of course, everyone said it was but it seemed like a difficult thing to manage, a whole set of new golden adornments made every year just for it to be lost. A Sisyphean task.

You didn’t have to worry about that. Your responsibility was far from that of the clothing and jewelry makers. You didn’t have to do any work at all, a crowd of women ensuring you didn’t so much as lift a finger on your day, bathing you and dressing you in unfamiliar clothes.

You’d spent the whole day preparing. This was the first time you’d had a chance to breathe.

Excitement and nerves all swelled inside of you, neither able to snuff the other out.

Time was flying by and you weren’t sure whether you wanted it to slow or speed up. Part of you wanted to cherish these last few moments but it was almost here. It was almost your time.

They tied you up. Not that they had to. You weren’t going anywhere. It was just tradition.

You forgot to treasure your last moments of sight before someone behind you pulled a blindfold over your eyes.

All you were left to do was imagine it. Being pulled from where you stood on the shore, being dragged under the water, the air leaving you as you fulfilled your duty.

And the town saved.

They’d do it again next year and again the next, just like they had for decades. But this year was yours. You would save them.

What a privilege it was to die for them.

You wondered if the ropes ruined the lines of your dress. You supposed you’d never find out.

Something hooked around your shoulders and you couldn’t help but flinch. You took in a big gulp of air instinctually, knowing what was coming.

You braced yourself to be dragged forwards and instead slipped backward as you were lifted in the wrong direction. The ground disappeared from under you before you could fall.

Your legs kicked, searching for anything below you, but you found nothing. The wind rushed up around you and despite your lack of vision, you could feel that you were rising up and up and up.

You were meant to be dragged down to the depths and yet here you were, being hoisted into the sky. Claws dug into your skin and you were still blind and disoriented. Fear overtook you.

You reached up and felt at whatever was carrying you, finding scaly skin connected to the strong talons digging into your shoulders.

And then, as quickly as you’d been scooped up, you were being dropped. Rocks scraped your skin as you tumbled onto a hard stone floor. The bindings had come undone during the fall and you scrambled for your blindfold, squinting when the harsh light reached your eyes.

As your vision began to adjust, you saw an enormous figure in front of you. At first, all you could see was a silhouette. Massive wings curled into the figure and the dragon that was slowly coming into focus in front of you stared right back at you.

It was retreating into mounds of shiny things, gold and silver, old pieces of armour and crowns and candelabras piled into the cave you’d been thrown into.

It stood out amongst the collection, a hulking creature with scales that shone a dark bronze that matched little of his horde. It was probably 20 feet long, its head cocked to the side as it watched you.

Your instincts screamed at you to run, to get as far away from the creature as possible.

You took a deep breath and tried to steady yourself. If you tried to run it could just scoop you up again. Besides, the last thing you wanted to do was activate a hunting instinct. Maybe right now, covered in gold jewelry, he saw you as something for his horde. It was certainly preferable to the alternative.

He didn’t seem to be eating you, which you took as a good sign. Maybe if you removed the gold from yourself, it would lose interest in you and you could sneak out. If you rushed and were lucky, maybe you could even make it back in time. A sacrifice without the ceremonial adornments wasn’t ideal but it would certainly be better than nothing.

You slowly lifted your hand to the golden cuff on your bicep, praying it wouldn’t think you were trying to take it. You tried to rip it from the white fabric of your dress, wanting to return home with at least some of your dignity, and your clothes, intact.

Its head tilted further to the side and then a voice sounded, echoing off the walls. “What are you doing? Why would you ruin such a lovely dress?”

You froze at the noise, looking up wide-eyed at the creature. It couldn’t have. That wasn’t possible. Dragons were forces of chaos. Mindless beasts, nothing more.

You blinked slowly, wondering if maybe you hadn’t woken up this morning quite yet. Or perhaps you’d been pulled underwater too quickly to notice and this was the oxygen deprivation messing with your mind.

“Hello,” you responded.

Its jaw opened to reveal layers of teeth in a ghoulish imitation of a smile. “Hello!”

You felt your heart stutter in your chest. “What… why did you take me?” You tried your best to keep your voice steady. The last thing you wanted was to upset the creature.

“You were out there to be taken, yes?”

Oh. You supposed you were. Perhaps you’d been sending mixed messages to the monsters of the world.

You wondered if maybe some town made sacrifices just like you to dragons.

“I was,” you said cautiously. “But not for you. For the creatures of the deep. Fishing is our life, it’s how we survive. We need the waters to be safe.”

“Not… what? You’re… but I thought. So you weren’t out there for me?” He sounded heartbroken.

“It’s fine,” you said, keeping your voice level. “Misunderstandings happen. Just take me back and everything will be fine.”

“No, it doesn’t make sense. You’re covered in gold. You can’t just cover someone in gold and not expect a dragon to come snatch them up. You must have known. You must be for me.”

“Well, I’m not. And I would love to go home now.”

“What do they even want with you?” it asked, avoiding any discussion of bringing you back. “I don’t know much about humans but I know you aren’t water creatures. They couldn’t even take you anywhere, they’d have to come all the way up to visit you every day.”

Now it was your turn to be confused. “What?”

You’d assumed he’d taken you for the same reasons as the creatures you sacrificed maidens to every year. To take and consume, to feel worshiped. But it sounded like this dragon had entirely different ideas as to why a monster would want a sacrifice.

“I wouldn’t have to just visit you,” he said. “I could be with you all the time. Take good care of you. No water involved. I’d keep you warm and fed and completely dry.”

“I’m not given to be a pet,” you snapped.

The creature reeled back and began backpedaling instantly. “I didn’t mean you’re like a pet, I just meant…”

“They were going to kill me,” you said. “I’m a sacrifice. They need to kill me. It’s the only way.”

It took him a minute to understand what you could possibly mean by that. You could practically see the wheels turning in his head as he tried to understand.

You didn’t have time for this. “Just take me back,” you pleaded with him.

He paused. “They’re going to kill you?”

“It’s none of your concern what they’re going to do.”

He dropped his head low, resting it on his tail with a huff. “Then I’m not taking you anywhere.”

Your heart sank. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

“I can’t let them hurt you.”

You let out an exasperated groan, burying your head in your hands. “It has to happen, without it so many more will perish.

“What if I start terrorizing your village!” the dragon said, with the intonation of someone who’d just had a great idea but none of the content. “Or say I would if I didn’t have you. Then your sacrifice won’t have been for nothing.”

Reasoning with him was starting to seem pointless. “Please don’t.”

“Well, either way, I’m not letting you go back. If I let you go, it would be like I hurt you. No, you can stay here.”

You could not do this, couldn’t argue with this strange creature who was incapable of understanding how vital it was that you returned so your town had its proper sacrifice.

You stormed over to the corner of the cave, leaning against the cold stone wall with a huff.

He just stared at you, neverendingly, undeterred by your attitude.

“It can’t be comfortable over there,” he called out to you.

“Leave me alone!” you shouted back, curling in further on yourself.

He wanted to approach you, you could tell that much. His hesitation was evident and he took small steps forwards before pulling himself back, repeating the gesture over and over until he seemed to come to a conclusion.

“Alright. I can go for a while. Don’t hurt yourself.”

With that, he gave you a final once-over and flew out of the cave.

He was hard to read. The way a dragon worked was unfamiliar to you. The most you could do was take guesses and try your best. Hopefully, you wouldn’t be around long enough to figure out the intricacies of dragon body language.

You should run. If you were going to have a chance to escape, this would be it.

As you edged out of the cave, your dreams of making it down the mountain were crushed. There was, technically, a sort of path down the mountain. It was barely a few feet wide with a sheer cliff at the edge of it.

You hadn’t eaten since this morning. You were scared and exhausted and there was a slight tremor in your hands you couldn’t quite seem to rid yourself of. There was no way you could safely traverse that path.

You went back into the cave with a huff, waiting for your captor to return.

Eventually, he did, blood dripping down his face as he dropped an animal in front of you. It was hard to tell what it was with the way it was mangled. It was clearly a fresh kill.

You stared blankly at him, edging further away and into the cave wall.

At your lack of reaction, he nudged the creature towards you. “You should eat,” he said.

“I can’t eat that.”

You prayed he wouldn’t try and force you.

“Why don’t you just eat me?” you spat at him. “At least it would be better than this.”

At least then you wouldn’t have to live with the knowledge that you’d failed, and your village would pay the price.

He tilted his head once more. “Why would I do that? I’ve wanted to meet a human for a very very long time. I’ve got another friend too, come look.”

He started to wander back into the cave, behind piles of gold and you hesitantly followed him on shaky legs.

When you reached the back of the dark cave, you found a single, frightened sheep sitting atop a massive patch of grass that seemed to have been uprooted from the ground.

“I took him from a field. I couldn’t eat him, he had sad eyes.”

“Do I have sad eyes?” you asked. Maybe that was why he insisted on keeping you, refusing to let you go back home.

He looked at you and as hard as it was to read the facial expressions of a dragon, you knew exactly what he was thinking.

“Is it that bad?” you asked as you looked away.

“Not bad. You just look like you're hurting.”

If you were it was because of him. This was supposed to be the best day of your life, the only day that mattered. And instead, you were here, looking at a poor terrorized sheep who was in the same position you were in.

“So, what can you eat?” the dragon asked. Before you could give an answer, it said, “Nevermind, I’ve got an idea.”

You didn’t get the chance to ask him what it was. He was off again, moving through the cave until you heard the telltale flapping noise that meant you were alone once more.

You looked down at the sheep again.

Maybe not entirely alone.

He returned swiftly with a whole market cart in tow. It had piles of bread in it, although they were a little worse for wear from the flight. You had no doubt that some unsuspecting farmers had found it raining loaves of bread as he made his way back.

You were too hungry to worry about scolding him for the thievery. You grabbed the first piece you could get your hands on and took the biggest bite you were capable of.

Your dragon watched, seemingly entranced by the sight.

As you chewed your first bite of freshly baked bread he asked, “I did alright this time?”

You nodded, unable to speak through the mouthful of food.

As you finished scarfing down your bread, you sat in the grass with your new sheep companion and asked your captor, “Do you have a name?”

The dragon considered this for a moment. “No. No one has ever needed to call me anything.”

“Oh. I thought dragons would have names.”

“They do. Just not me.”

You looked up at him, brow furrowed. “What, just you?”

He hummed in acknowledgment, the vibrations from the noise cascading through the stone under you. “Didn’t bother to give me one. I was the runt so you know how it is. Or maybe you don’t. I don’t really know how people work. With dragons, the littlest one always has to go. That’s the way it is.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. I get a little lonely but now you’re here!”

You rolled your eyes, collapsing back into the grass. If you closed your eyes you could pretend you were outside your village lying in a field instead of trapped in a dark cave on a cold mountain. “Yeah, now I’m here.”

The moment couldn’t last. It was too cold, there was no wind. The air smelled different.

“You know,” you said. “We had stories about dragons. Big terrifying ones that wanted to hurt people. My mother used to tell me stories of Pytho. I was so scared of him when I was little.”

“Oh.” You heard his wings rustle and opened one of your eyes to peek over at him, shuffling uncomfortably in place.

“I could call you Pytho,” you added. “It’s the only dragon name I know.”

“If you think it fits, I suppose. I thought you said he was big and scary?”

You laughed. “Well, from my perspective, you’re pretty big and scary.”

Instead of being pleased at your words, he reeled back. “Are you scared of me?”

You shrugged. “I was. Not so much anymore. Honestly, I think on any other day, I would’ve liked you”

“But not today?”

You shook your head. “Not today.”

“Well then,” he said as he began to curl up into a ball, “Maybe tomorrow.”

You backed up, leaning against the cold wall, and tried to suppress your tears at the thought that there would be a tomorrow for you at all.

When you woke up, it was all still real. A dragon snored beside you as a sheep stared at you with the saddest gaze you’d ever seen.

Maybe, as you looked at it, it thought the same thing about you.

Pytho stirred from his slumber, immediately turning to check on you.

When you felt his warm breath directed at you, you realized just how cold you were. Not that you were going to do anything about it. Your only source of warmth was the dragon in front of you and you were going to go nowhere near him.

You clench your fists, doing your best to stop the shivering.

He didn’t seem to notice. With the warmth that he radiated, you were sure that the concept of being cold was something that was foreign to him.

You turned away from the creature. If he wouldn’t take you back, the least you could do was deprive him of your attention.

It wasn’t much but it was all you had.

The day passed slowly but still, it passed. You spent it wallowing in the corner.

Pytho left you alone after the first few outbursts. He seemed to understand that you needed your space. You could appreciate him for at least that much.

As the sun began to set once more, you began to realize just how much warmth and light the day had brought to this miserable cave.

You curled in on yourself, not far from how Pytho slept.

You watched him begin to settle in for the night and saw a moment of hope where he tried to move closer to you. You glared at him and he stopped in his tracks.

“You’re still upset with me,” he noted.

“Of course I am. There’s nothing for me now. It was supposed to be over and now it’s not. You took that from me.”

“I took your ending,” he said, and you knew he understood.

“You did.”

“You’ll find a new ending someday.”

“But that one was mine. It mattered,” you said, frustrated that he couldn’t seem to get it.

“You matter.”

You scoffed. “I did.”

“You do.”

You turned away from him with a huff. “You don’t understand. You can’t.”

“Goodnight, little human.”

You fell into a fitful sleep against the cold stone of the cave. When you woke, however, you felt warm and safe.

You opened your eyes to find Pytho standing over you, his body heat covering you in waves of warmth, even when he wasn’t touching you.

“You were shivering,” he said, like it was that simple. You were cold, he was warm. There wasn’t anything else to be done. You hadn’t even known he understood what shivering was.

You slid away from him, back into the cold.

He watched you. That’s all he ever seemed to do. Watch you. “You’re mad at me but you’re punishing yourself.”

You didn’t dignify that with a response. “Let me go back.”

“I will not.”

You tried to sleep again but the cold felt harsher now, crueler. It was your turn to watch him, remember the waves of heat across your skin.

You waited until his breathing leveled out, the rise and fall of his chest becoming uniform. You couldn’t handle a smug look or excitement. You just needed to sleep.

You took the few steps between you slowly and gently leaned against his side.

Almost instantly, without thinking, he curled around you, bundling you up in a nest of warm scales. His breathing was steady against your side.

You’d never slept better.

You woke to find his head a few inches from yours, propped up on his tail and staring at you with a soft gaze.

“Good morning,” he said.

You gave him a hum of acknowledgment back.

You were wracked with guilt. How could you be enjoying this, allowing yourself even these minor comforts? It wasn’t right. None of this was right.

You pulled away from him, feeling sick.

Traitor. You’d betrayed them after they’d put so much trust in you. Who knew what was happening to them now, while you slept feeling warm and comfortable.

“You still want to go?” he asked in hushed tones as you backed away, clearly afraid of the answer.

You nodded. “I’m always going to want to go. I have to make this right.”

He let out a pained whine and moved towards you slowly, giving you the chance to stop him.

You didn’t.

“You could be happy here,” he insisted. “Why won’t you just be happy here?”

“It just wasn’t meant to be."

“Don’t want you to get hurt,” he whined out.

You pressed your forehead to his. “Does it not matter what I want?”

He let out a huff and hot air cascaded over your face. He was always so warm.

You pressed a kiss to his scaly nose. “I know you want to help, but I have to do this. Please let me do this.”

And he stared. Just stared at you, like he was drinking it in, trying to memorize you.

Finally, his face fell and you knew exactly what it meant.

“If you change your mind…” he said. “If you ever get the chance, come back to me. You’ll always have a safe place here.”

You nodded, still holding his head in your hands. You knew you never would, but it was nice to imagine returning someday.

You looked down at your dress, dirty and torn, and you finished ripping off the golden cuff you’d started to tear days ago.

“You can have this if you want. For what could have been.”

His eyes were glassy. You didn’t know dragons could cry. He grasped the golden cuff in his talons, tucking it away far from the rest of the gold, instead next to his beloved sheep. “For what could have been.”

A forlorn laugh escaped you as you looked at him. All three of you had sad eyes now.

Before either of you had the chance to rethink it, he moved towards the mouth of the cave and you followed.

Familiar talons grasped your shoulders and you were off again.

This time, there was no blindfold. An entire landscape unfolded below you and you watched towns and rivers and forests pass you by at incredible speeds.

Your hands reached up to grab Pytho’s legs, the seer distance to the ground making you dizzy.

The flight was shorter than you remembered. You wished it wasn’t but as your feet touched grass, real grass rooted in the real ground, you knew there was nothing to be done.

He dropped you off near the village but still outside of it. It was for the best, you couldn’t imagine anyone inside the town would be particularly pleased to see him. Worst case scenario, they might even try and hurt him.

As soon as you’d properly landed he flew off, leaving you behind. No parting words, no last look. Before you knew it he was gone, a distant silhouette on a blue sky.

Good. You didn’t want him to see what might happen here anyways.

The walk back was too quiet. You could hear the birds and the wind but none of it was enough to drown out the blood rushing in your ears.

You didn’t know why your heart was pounding so loudly. This was what you wanted. You were back, ready to repent for the crime of being stolen.

The first person who saw you was a boy. He couldn’t have been more than ten. He wandered on the outskirts of the village but as soon as he saw you he turned and ran back into the town, probably telling tales of your miraculous homecoming.

You’d been so caught up in your return you had managed to think of little else but now, as you neared society once more, you realized what a mess you’d become. Your sacrificial dress was brown with now much dirt it had collected, ripped and shredded and hanging off of you in tatters. You were sure your face and hair were just as dirty.

You walked further and further into town, unsure of what to do with yourself. You’d assumed someone else would tell you what to do but instead, they grouped together and stared, whispering and pointing as you trudged your way through the village.

As you reached the center of town, you found a gathering waiting for you.

You stopped in front of them, waiting as they inspected you. The same people who’d helped ready you and told you how vital you were to the town now looked down at you with thinly veiled disdain plastered across their faces.

“I came back as soon as I could,” you said, your voice sounding small and weak.

The man at the front of the group, the one who chose the sacrifices, made speeches about its vitalness every year, spoke. His voice boomed across the gathering. It didn’t feel fair. He was accustomed to speaking to crowds like this. You weren’t meant for this, of course you sounded small. “We chose another,” he said, and his words echoed in your ears.

Your heart sank in your chest. Of course they did. What else would they have done? At least it meant the town was safe. So why did it sting so badly?

“I can do it next year,” you said. “Please, let me do it next year. I’m here now.”

The man turned up his nose at you. “You abandoned your post.”

You could feel yourself getting more and more frantic as he spoke. “No, I was taken. I came back as soon as I could, I promise! Please.”

“An example must be made.”

You nodded, searching for a way out, any way you could still be useful. “Anything. I’ll do anything.”

The women who’d helped you bathe and get dressed a few days prior surged forwards, grasping at your arms. They held you in place as you refused to struggle.

“This is what happens to deserters,” he called out over the crowd.

You could barely think, barely hear his words.

The fact that you’d been replaced kept running through your mind. You’d been raised for this. It was all you’d ever wanted. You’d dreamed of it.

You weren’t so sure you wanted it anymore.

It didn’t matter anyways. It was too late. You’d left.

The man chanting to the crowd pulled out a knife.

It felt like what you deserved. Your chest tightened with guilt and fear. Now it wouldn’t even be for anything. Just an example, nothing more.

Maybe it was saving them, in a way. Saving them from an epidemic of girls who thought they could escape it and damn the town in the meantime. Maybe you still could die for something.

A thudding sound echoes in your ears, slightly out of time with your heartbeat. It felt almost grounding, helped you ignore the chants of deserter and heathen. You didn’t have the strength to try and defend yourself, to insist that no, you’d fought to come back. You weren’t even sure you believed that anymore. You latched onto the thudding, anything to get those words out of your head.

And then the arms that had held you down were being ripped away and instead you found yourself being lifted. This was not the endless upwards motion of your dragon. Instead, you found yourself hoisted onto the back of a horse.

Hard metal dug into your side and you looked up to see a knight in full armour, his face hidden by his helm and his arm hooked around your waist.

You pounded your fists against him, fighting to be let go. “No!” you shouted. “I need to do this. I need to be forgiven.”

The knight's grip on you tightened and the horse you were both on sped up. Neither seemed to find your fighting anything more than mildly inconvenient.

Before long, your struggle slowed. You were becoming very used to the intense frustration that accompanied being trapped, being taken away with no regard for what you wanted.

You lost track of time as you rode. You’d just been trying to make things right, even if you couldn’t do what you were meant to do. The universe seemed intent on stopping you.

Maybe you’d done something wrong, offended the cosmos so severely you were no longer permitted to do what you were meant for.

As the horse slowed, the knight's grip on you loosened.

He set you gently on the ground in the midst of this unfamiliar forest and you glared up at him.

“Can I go now?” you hissed. “Or am I still being kidnapped?”

“There were going to kill you,” he said as he dismounted his horse.

“You don’t know what was going on,” you insisted. “Maybe I deserved it.”

He rummaged around in his saddlebag. “Maybe.”

You reeled back a little, not expecting him to agree with you. “Oh. Can I go back then?”

“No. Here, eat this.” He held out some dried meat in your direction.

You refused it. It would be a waste anyways.

“Why can’t I go?” you asked. If he didn’t even know if you were in the right, what reason could he possibly have for taking you?

“I’ve heard about your village, you know. I was worried I was too late. They’ve messed with your mind. It’s not your fault but you’re not making good choices right now.”

“My choices are fine,” you shouted. “Who are you to decide that? You don’t even know what I did.”

“What did you do?”

“I shirked my duty. I should have been there.”

“For what?”

“To be their sacrifice.”

“You didn’t deserve that.”

You did, but he couldn’t know that. It was beyond him.

It was hard to remember where you were. It didn’t make sense. Why weren’t you home? Or were you? You knew that you should be. Why wouldn’t you be?

You saw your dress, dirty and crumpled and ripped. You’d ruined it. How would you go through with the ritual now?

Something in you always knew you’d ruin it somehow. And now things were all wrong. Who else’s fault could it be?

The knight pushed some food at you and once again you were in a forest far from home.

You threw it back at him. “I said I don’t want it. Aren’t you going to eat?”

That damn helmet stared back at you for a moment before he said, “Maybe later.”

“Do you have a name?” you asked, desperate to get anything from him.

“Phillip.”

You missed your dragon. At least you could see his face and try to figure out what he was thinking.

He got up without warning, and you jumped a little at the sudden movement.

He froze for a second as you did, staring down at you before continuing on, trudging through the nearby bushes.

He returned in a few moments.

“There’s a pond back there,” he said, gesturing towards the foliage. “It’s not too cold, you should be fine.” He started to move back towards his horse before pausing for a moment and adding, “It might make you feel better.”

You went to inspect this pond as he tended to his horse.

It was a small pond, the trees around it curling over the top of it, mostly blocking out the sun. You dipped your foot into the water and found that the knight was technically right, it wasn’t cold enough to hurt you. It still wasn’t a pleasant temperature but right now it was the best you were going to get.

As you tested out the water, you watched from behind the bushes as he mounted his horse and started to ride away.

It made sense. You wouldn’t want to keep you around either. At this point, you were just ungrateful dead weight.

You considered taking off your dress and attempting to keep it dry but at this point, it consisted more of rips and dirt than anything. Dousing it in water might do it some good.

You sunk into the cold water, doing your best to get the dirt out of your hair. As long as you were in here, you might as well attempt to get clean.

You wondered if you could find your way back to Pytho’s cave. If you could manage to get close you were sure he’d be able to find you. At least you hoped he would. It was the only place you had left to go.

You had no real desire to prolong the bath in the cold water. You just didn’t know what came next. After this, where could you even go?

Your fingers began to prune and you know you couldn’t do this forever.

As you exited the pool in your sopping wet, muddy, ripped ceremonial dress, you decided you needed to go. You weren’t sure if you were trying to find your village or Pytho but it didn’t really matter, you had no sense of what direction either was in. You just needed to be headed somewhere.

You made it half a dozen steps before you collapsed.

You didn’t even notice he’d returned until he was right in front of you, staring down at you collapsed in the dirt in your soaking-wet dress.

You watched his helmet as he looks you up and down, lingering a second too long on your chest before snapping his head back up towards your face.

He cleared his throat and you would have bet money that his face was bright red beneath his helm.

“Apologies, my lady. I thought you might want some fresh clothes.”

He held out some folded clothes with a pair of leather boots balanced atop them.

No. It wasn’t right. This was supposed to be the last outfit you ever wore. It felt like a betrayal to take it off.

“No thank you,” you said from your spot on the ground. “I’ll stick with what I have.”

“I know they’re not much but they’ll fit.”

You shook your head again.

You heard a quiet, muffled sigh escape him. “The sun is setting, you’ll freeze to death if you wear those. You can change back in the morning if you really want to.”

You eyed him suspiciously. “Promise?”

He nodded. “Promise.”

You took the clothes with a sigh. “Fine. Turn around.”

You’d never seen him move so fast. It was like he was afraid you’d start stripping the second you decided to change.

A giggle escaped you and you watched his shoulders tense up at the noise. It seemed like the two of you were having entirely different kinds of crises.

You got dressed as quickly as you could, a chill starting to set deep in your bones. He’d found you a faded red tunic that hung midway down your thighs and some pants that miraculously fit pretty well.

The boots had thick woolen socks inside and putting them on felt like heaven. You swore you’d never wear pretty shoes again as long as these were an option.

You didn’t bother telling Phillip he could turn around. He’d figure it out in his own time. Or he wouldn’t. It wasn’t really your problem.

As you got ready to sleep, you watched him, keeping track of time as best you could. It took him about twenty minutes before he finally peeked over his shoulder, finding you sitting with your back against a tree.

You gave him a halfhearted smile and he cleared his throat. “You should rest now,” he said. “We have to leave at dawn.”

“And when are you going to stop dragging me around with you?”

“Whenever you’d like. I can drop you off at a town tomorrow. I just have something I need to attend to first”

You knew by now not to get hopeful. “Can you drop me off at my town?” You kept asking but you didn’t know what the point of it was. There was nothing for you there anymore. The most you could do was repent. Pay for what you’d done. But for what?

“I can drop you off at any other town.”

You slid down the tree, basically lying on the ground. “Alright.

He spent the rest of the night in full armour and you wondered if maybe part of him thought you might attack him. Either that or these woods were more dangerous than you knew.

He awoke you the second the sun began to peek over the horizon and you groaned, trying to kick him away from you.

He would not be deterred, coaxing you up and onto the back of his horse. You got on behind him and wrapped your arms around him for stability with minimal protest. You didn’t have the energy to fight him on it.

It took you too long to realize you'd left your dress behind, discarded in the mud.

The ride was much more comfortable when you weren’t being held captive.

Forests and plains and mountains passed, all foreign and strange. You’d never left your town before, never seen anything like this. Even in your bad mood, it was hard not to admire it.

Your heart stopped as you noticed one of the mountains that the two of you were fast approaching seemed familiar.

It had taken you too long to recognize it but in your defense, you were used to seeing it from a cave right at the peak.

You shut your eyes and prayed to anyone that might be listening that you’d ride right by it.

If the gods were listening, they had a special hatred for you. You weren’t sure you could blame them.

Phillip lead the horse along the precarious path you’d deemed too dangerous only days ago.

You needed to figure out a plan but you had nothing.

With only a few minutes left before you reached the peak, Phillip dismounted, holding out his hand to help you down. You half considered trying to take his horse to go warn Pytho but you had no real idea how to ride one on your own and you couldn’t shake the feeling you’d ride the pair of you right off the cliff edge. The poor creature didn’t deserve that.

You dismounted and Phillip nodded, getting right back on the horse. “You stay here, I won’t be long.”

“No,” you yelled, a little louder than was necessary. Phillip flinched, probably worried it had echoed up the mountain and warned the dragon at the top of his presence. You hoped it had. “I want to come.”

“These are dangerous lands, m’lady. I will not let you get hurt.”

You scowled at him. “You know, people won’t stop saying that to me.”

The helm stared down at you, unwavering, before he gave his horse a swift kick in the side and it rode up the narrow path.

You took off in a dead sprint after him.

You neared the top of the path, panting, just in time to see Phillip creeping into the cave, sword drawn and at the ready.

You had no idea what to do. You couldn’t just stand here and do nothing but you felt frozen in place.

The problem was, you’d rather neither of them were hurt. It felt like an impossible situation.

Pytho needed to be warned but as gentle as he’d been with you, he could decimate Phillip in a second. That much you were certain of, no matter how competent of a knight Phillip might be.

You finally willed yourself to move, darting into the cave to see Pytho standing over Phillip, who had his sword positioned right at the dragon’s neck.

Before you could even think, you shouted, “Don’t hurt him!”

You had no real idea which of them you were talking to but both stopped in their tracks, heads spinning towards you.

For one moment you were terrified one would take advantage of the distraction to harm the other and then their blood would be on your hands. Before the worry had time to settle, Pytho swung his tail around, hitting Phillip over the head with it.

He instantly collapsed to the ground, going limp.

You rummaged around in the saddlebag as Pytho stared at you. When you finally found rope you raised it triumphantly.

Pytho’s gaze followed it up. “What is that?” he asked as you rushed towards the knight.

“It’s rope,” you informed him as you tried and failed to drag him across the floor. As soon as Pytho realized what you were doing, he swept him effortlessly into the corner for you.

You bound his hands behind his back, tethering him to some heavy golden chair that would at least slow any escape he tried to make.

“You’re back,” Pytho said behind you, his voice airy and incredulous and so very grateful.

You turned from binding the knight with a big smile. “I am. I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to make it back but this guy led me right here,” he said, nudging at him with your foot.

He didn’t seem to hear any of it. “I can’t believe you’re back.” His eyes were wide, refusing to leave you.

You nodded, grabbing Phillip’s abandoned sword and throwing it right off the mountain, listening to the clanging noises as it bounced all the way down. You glanced nervously at Phillip as you returned, leading his horse over by the sheep. “I am. This is so rude but can you please go for a couple minutes? If you’re still here when he wakes I’m afraid he might perish from fright.”

He nodded. “If that’s what you want. I will be back.”

He bumped his head lightly into you before heading out, flying off somewhere.

And not a moment too soon.

The knight stirred from his slumber. The only way you could tell was by how his helm slowly moved up, rising to meet your gaze.

The second he did he tried to move before realizing he was bound. “Why?” he asked you. “I don’t understand, you… Was this all a trap?” His voice cracked and he sounded genuinely hurt by the betrayal.

You felt a pang of sympathy in your chest as he struggled against his bindings. Quiet fearful noises escaped him as he glanced between you and Pytho’s horde.

You shushed him, your hands up in a quiet surrender. “We’re not going to hurt you. You’ll be just fine.”

“We? You’re in cahoots with this monster?”

You bristled at the harsh langue but did your best to be forgiving to the frightened man.

“He’s not a monster. He helped me. Why are you even here? He hasn’t hurt anyone.”

“That’s not what I heard. From what I’ve heard he’s been snatching up women.”

You groaned, rubbing at your temples. As you did, the knight leaned forward as much as he could and even through the stoic armour, you could tell exactly when he realized.

“No. But… but you….”

“I just wanted to help my people. I don’t know why every creature within a thousand miles is trying to stop me.”

“If he took you, how did you escape?”

“I didn’t. I asked him to let me go, to be able to make my own choices, and he did. Because he respects me and didn’t kidnap me on the back of a horse!” You tactfully decided to omit the original kidnapping. At least for now. You had a feeling it wouldn’t help your case.

“Please, it’s a dragon, it…”

“He! He’s a dragon! And at least he’s allowed me to make decisions.”

He reeled back. “I… you were going to get yourself killed. I couldn’t just let you get yourself killed. It isn’t right.”

“And it’s not your choice to make.”

He hung his head, helmet clanging against his chest plate.

Pytho chose then to return, his tail swishing happily as he walked. He rubbed up against your side, letting out a happy rumble as he did.

“So they let you go?” Pytho asked, ignoring the man on the floor.

“Not exactly. They were going to kill me. They wanted to make an example of me.” You couldn’t help but smile. “I can’t imagine that the example they wanted to set was getting rescued by a knight but I suppose that’s the hand they were dealt.

Pytho turned his gaze to Phillip. “You saved her?”

He nodded hesitantly.

Another pleased noise escaped Pytho. “He’s a good one. I’m glad you didn’t let me kill him.”

“About that,” you said and you watched Phillip freeze up, all of his limbs locking. You glanced at him, adding, “I said we weren’t going to hurt you, calm down. I was just going to say, Pytho, you should let him go.”

The dragon tilted his head. “Why? I like him, he’s shiny.”

You suppressed a laugh. “He’s not shiny, his armour is. It’s like clothing.”

“Oh. Why do you creatures insist on that stuff? Seems awfully restrictive.”

Phillip cut into your conversation, saying, “I can’t leave.”

You looked over at him, a wave of irritation rushing through you. “Why not?”

“I can’t leave you here with this beast.”

You had half a mind to throw something at him. “Get this through your head, I don’t need you to save me.”

“It wouldn’t be right,” he continued, undeterred.

“Fine. But I’m not untying you and risking you hurting him.”

“Fine.”

Pytho’s head swiveled between the two of you as you bickered. As the argument finally finished, he asked in a hushed tone, although still lough enough that Phillip could hear, “Does that mean we get to keep him.”

You snorted. “Guess so. It’s your lucky day.”

“It really is,” he said, voice as genuine as it could be.

The sunlight was fast fading and you knew how cold it could get in here. You had no intention of sleeping alone but you glanced at your mostly willing captive.

“Pytho?” you called out.

He turned to you immediately. “Yes? Do you need something?”

“Could you go get some wood?”

“Of course I can,” he said, already speeding off.

When he returned, he had a whole tree in his mouth and another in his talons, dirt still clinging to their roots.

You bent over laughing as he dropped them both in front of you, tail swishing behind him. They’d barely fit through the mouth of the cave, filling up a significant amount of the room and knocking over at least one pile of gold in the meantime.

You got to work snapping off some of the more reasonably sized branches, having Pytho move the trees back outside as you finished.

You set them up a few feet away from Phillip, far enough away that he’d be safe but could still feel the warmth.

“You can breathe fire right?” you called back to Pytho. It would be unfortunate if he couldn’t because you did not have the proper tools to start one here.

He nodded, visibly eager. “Do you need one?”

“Just on the sticks here. Make sure not to burn anyone,” you said, nearing Phillip to ensure that he didn’t forget there was a person inside of the shiny armour and cook him.

With a quick and surprisingly controlled burst of flame, the pile of sticks turned into a quaint little fire.

You gave Phillip a pat on the shoulder as you headed over to Pytho. “Goodnight. Have fun sleeping in full armour.”

He didn’t respond.

You left the fire behind to go curl up with Pytho. No fire could compare to his warm scales, of that you were certain.

A happy rumble escaped him and ran through you as you leaned against him.

He spoke in hushed tones, face right in front of yours as his tail curled around you. “I can’t believe you came back.”

“I shouldn’t have,” you said, giving him a quick kiss on his snout. “But I think I realized I didn’t really want to be anywhere else.”

His head leaned into your touch immediately, a wistful look in his eyes.

“I wish I could do that.”

“What, kiss me?” you asked with a laugh. “Well, how do dragons kiss?”

Without another word he licked a long stripe up the side of your face, leaving a sticky residue behind.

You giggled as you felt his spit on your cheek. “Well, my way is definitely less messy.”

He let out a noise that sounded almost like a purr, resting his head in your lap. “I like it your way.”

You hummed quietly and you wished he could feel it reverberating through his body the way you did for him. You curled happily into warm scales, surrounded by an overwhelming sense of safety, and fell asleep in your new home.

The next morning, you realized you had no idea how to tell if Phillip was awake or not. He could have escaped and left only his empty armour behind and it would be impossible to tell.

What you did know was that he hadn’t eaten.

Pytho still had some slightly stale bread from your last stay here and you’d brought in all of Phillip’s supplies. You grabbed some dried meat and the freshest of the bread that you could find, heading over to him.

“Good morning,” you said, hoping he could hear you.

He shifted, just barely, to turn to you. It seemed like the most positive reaction you could hope for.

“Okay, you need to eat. Here, just let me.” You went to lift his helm but paused as he flinched away from your hand.

“Please don’t.” His voice was low and shaky.

You backed off, keeping your hands up and away from him. “Okay,” you said, “But you do need to eat.”

There wasn’t any other way to do it. You reached behind him, pressed close to him as you untied his hands. As you struggled with the knots, you felt his breath hitch in his chest.

After a few moments, you pulled away from the newly freed knight, rope in hand. “Tada.”

He froze once more, something you were getting used to, and just stared down at the rope for a minute, flexing his hands by his sides.

With no warning, he grabbed the food you’d gathered for him and stood on shaky legs, giving you a small nod before he headed out toward the mouth of the cave. It was near where the animals were being kept, tied up to some golden pillar near the front. If he wanted to, he could leave here and now.

You waited patiently for him, avoiding looking in his direction, even if you were sure he’d gone far enough that you wouldn’t be able to see him.

He quickly returned, fast enough that he must have scarfed down his food.

He presented his hands to you and it took a second to realize he was waiting to be tied up again.

You scoffed, looking at him dubiously. “Is that really necessary?” It seemed silly to tie him up again after that.

His hands stayed out and you rolled your eyes as you grabbed the rope.

You tied them in front of him this time, taking much less care with the knots as you did.

“Where are you a knight of?” you asked as you pulled the knot taut. “I see no insignias anywhere on you. That doesn’t seem normal.”

“My kingdom is long gone, m’lady.”

“Still so respectful, even after everything I’ve put you through. Well, sir knight, how can you be a knight with no kingdom to serve?”

His head cocked to the side as if baffled by the question. “I know nothing else.”

You paused a moment before asking. “How long have you been doing this?”

He remained ever impossible to read, although that never stopped you from trying. After a long, stoic pause, he simply shrugged and said, “I’ve lost track of the years.”

“And so what? No kingdom to speak of, you just keep fighting?”

“I do what I’ve always done.” Like it was as simple as that.

“Don’t you get tired?”

“I never have the time.”

“Well, sir knight, I think you were just about due for some rest anyways.”

He didn’t respond, the helmet following you as you left him.

He was so stoic. You weren’t sure how it was easier to get a read on a dragon than a man but somehow he’d managed it.

Anything other than silent staring began to feel out of place.

“M’lady,” Phillip called out. You turned, confused. It wasn’t like him to start a conversation.

“Yeah?”

“Where is my sword?” he asked.

You’d forgotten he was unconscious for that. “Oh. I threw it off the mountain.”

“You what? Why?”

Pytho chimed in immediately. “I can get it.”

You shifted between him and the entrance to the cave as quickly as you could. “No, you will not.”

“Why?” asked Phillip.

“What do you mean why? You tried to kill him.”

“I won’t attack him unprovoked.”

“You already did attack him unprovoked.”

“I didn’t have all the information. For that, I am truly sorry, sir.”

Pytho’s chest puffed up at the title. “You are forgiven. And I am sorry that I almost destroyed you.”

That caused Phillip to reel back a little. “You did not. I can best a dragon easily, I almost slit your throat.”

Pytho huffed and you smelled a bit of smoke on his breath. “You did not.”

“Okay,” you said, cutting in. “You’re both very dangerous. I’d still love it if we could keep the sword where it is.”

Phillip nodded. “I understand your hesitancy.”

He said it tied up on the floor. Despite not having a weapon, despite his promise not to try and hurt Pytho, despite the fact that you'd already untied him so he could eat.

“This is stupid,” you said, pacing up to him and immediately setting to work on the knots and ignoring his quiet noises in protest.

It didn’t take long to undo them, you’d put barely any effort into tying them in the first place.

“We have to free you so you can eat anyway, I don’t understand your obsession with this little performance.”

Phillip froze, still holding his hands together despite the lack of rope.

“What should I do?” he asked you quietly.

You threw the rope to the side. “That’s up to you.”

It took him hours before he was even willing to stand from his spot on the floor.

His movements were all colored by hesitation. You understood. The freedom made staying a choice. And even when he managed to stand, to move from his corner, he stayed.

He stuck to his corner as often as he could, but nonetheless, he stayed. Watching him sleep alone in the cold, you were certain that this was how Pytho had felt every night when you froze your ass off far away from him.

You both lit the fire for him every night. Pytho has started running off to get wood without you even asking, even if the trees that remained outside left you with enough wood to last years.

His armour got lighter as time passed, forgoing pieces from time to time. No matter what, the helmet stayed. It felt like a part of him, like you could imagine there possibly being a man under there.

He was adjusting to the newfound freedom about as well as you’d expected.

With every small sign of growing comfort, something else went wrong.

A few days after his freeing, while Pytho was out gathering more food for the two of you to eat, you heard him muttering in the corner.

You drifted closer and he paid you no mind. You couldn’t make out any words but you could tell it was frantic.

“Phillip,” you said softly, doing your best not to startle him. “Are you alright?”

You had no idea if you’d frightened him, he remained entirely unreadable. All except for his hands. He had foregone his gloves and much of the armour on his arms and you watched as he nervously fidgeted, threatening his fingers together, cracking his knuckles absentmindedly, his hands never staying still for more than a moment.

“I’m wasting time here,” he said. “I have things to do. I have a duty to this land.”

You knew it was near impossible to get through to him but you couldn’t help the urge to try. “It’s a waste to rest?”

“It is. I need to go, need to continue on.”

You sat beside him, as close as you could get without touching. “You should take me back home on your way. I’ve got a duty too, you know.”

His head fell back. Metal against stone sent a clanging noise echoing across the walls. “That’s different. You were brainwashed.”

“I wasn’t. The monsters are real you know. I’ve seen them. We all do, every year. I really would have been saving them. Whatever girl they chose instead of me really did save them. Maybe you don’t think it’s right. That’s fine. It’s an important duty nonetheless.”

“It’s not the same. I’m not being marched to my death.”

“People will still need saving in a week, in a year, in a century. There’s no real, final end to it. There has to be ends to it for you. Little ones. There just has to be.”

His head was turned towards you and you squirmed, feeling like you were being studied.

Finally, he said, “It upsets you.”

“What?”

“That I never stop. That upsets you?”

You nodded. “It does.”

“I can stand tiny ends to it. To ease your mind.”

A sad laugh escaped you. “I’d rather you did it for you.”

“That’s the best I can do right now. You’re the same, aren’t you?”

And you supposed you were. “I can’t go back. I can’t do that to him. Or to you, I guess.”

A small laugh escaped him, a noise you weren’t sure you’d ever heard from him before. “You guess. I’ll take it.”

Pytho returned, entering the cave a little too quickly and knocking one of his piles of treasure over. He dropped a cart in front of you, this one with boxes of pastries covering it.

“The humans seemed to love this one,” he said with his disarming, open-mouthed grin.

“Who are you taking those from?” Phillip asked incredulously, and you were almost certain you could hear a smile in his voice.

You grabbed something that looked chocolatey and when you felt that it was still warm you almost sobbed. “I don’t care who he’s taking it from,” you said, taking a massive bite of it. “This is the best thing I’ve ever eaten.”

You scarfed down three pastries, offering a small piece to Pytho, just so he could taste it. He spat it back out, questioning how you could ever eat something like that.

And then you remembered your stoic knight, still sitting beside you, just watching you eat, and a sense of guilt overtook you.

“I’m sorry,” you said and he perked up as you addressed him. “You know, I could turn around or we could close our eyes. We wouldn’t have to see anything. So we could eat together.”

You didn’t wait for an answer, didn’t wait for him to politely refuse, instead turning around and signaling for Pytho to do the same. You shut your eyes, just for good measure, as you leaned against the dragon.

The quiet thud of the helmet being set on the floor made your heart swell.

As you took another bite of a pastry, this one filled with a beautiful lemon cream, he slid his hand into your open one and ate behind you, slower than he’d ever eaten before.

Even if it was for you, you hoped he enjoyed it.

And still, no matter how much progress you made, every night he still slept in that goddamn corner.

You were glad Pytho curled up around you at night because then at least you couldn't see him, sad and alone next to his fire, away from the two of you.

You knew Pytho could tell it bothered you. He always did his best to distract you, pull all of your attention to him. He’d gotten pretty good at it.

He was nuzzling into your side, pulling giggles from you as he gave you a big, slobbery kiss on your face.

“What are dragon kisses for?” you asked.

“What?”

“I’m just curious. Humans kiss their kids, their partners, their parents, all sorts of people they love. Dragon kisses don’t feel like something you can do as casually as a kiss on the cheek.”

Pytho perked up immediately. “You love me?”

You pressed a kiss into his cheek. “Of course I do.”

He purred at you as he answered your question. “Well, dragon kisses are just for mates. We aren’t an overly affectionate species.”

“Could’ve fooled me. You know, maybe you can’t kiss like a human but I could kiss like a dragon.”

He tilted his head and you decided to take the gesture as a challenge.

You opened your mouth and licked a broad stripe up the side of his face. His scales tasted ashy and were incredibly smooth against your tongue.

A wave of heat passed through him as you did, a deep guttural sound escaping him.

You pulled back, trying to get a better look at him.

“What was that?” you asked quietly.

He ducked his head down in a poor attempt to hide from you. “Nothing. It was nothing.”

Something clicked in your head. “Hold on. You said dragons only kiss their mates.”

He nodded hesitantly.

“You kiss me all the time though.”

He whined again, his tail moving away from you and curling in front of him. “I’m sorry. I know it’s strange, I know you’re human, I can't help it. You're so soft and nice and I love you so much…”

As his words got more frantic you kissed his snout again, shushing him. “You should’ve told me. If I’d known my big, strong dragon wanted me maybe I could’ve done something about it sooner.”

You practically watched his eyes glaze over, head tucking into your chest as he purred more.

You gave him all the kisses you could, peppering them along his head wherever you could reach. After about a dozen, you decided to try another dragon one, licking along his jaw.

You were flipped and pinned under him in a second, looking up at a ravenous face. His wings were folded over the two of you, blocking you from the outside world. In here, it was just the two of you.

You couldn’t be happier.

“Please, let me see you,” he hissed and you struggled to get your clothes off as quickly as you could. You kicked your pants off and they got caught on your ankles, spurring on a minor giggling fit, feeling absolutely giddy.

And he just watched, perfectly content to stare down at you as you waged a minor battle against your clothes, desperate to get your bare skin against his.

As you lay below him, finally fully naked, you didn’t feel shy or self-conscious. It felt right, the two of you, like this.

“I will never understand clothes,” he informed you. “Why would you ever cover this up?”

His head shifted around, looking at every part of you he’d never gotten to see before.

As his head moved downwards, you could tell exactly when he noticed how wet you were. He stopped moving entirely, nostrils flaring and eyes locked on you.

He nosed at you and you opened your legs for him, spreading them as wide as they could go.

His tongue snaked out instantly, licking a hot stripe through your folds. Whatever he found there seemed to interest him because the next thing you knew his thick tongue was snaking deep inside of you, your walls stretching around him.

You let out a strangled cry, fighting to not snap your legs closed at how overwhelming the sensation was.

His content vibrations ran through you, causing a spark of pleasure to run up your spine.

His tongue found a spot deep inside of you that’d didn’t quite feel like the rest, rubbing against it experimentally and you slapped your hand over your mouth, trying not to scream.

It was too much. You’d never felt anything like this before.

His jaw was cracked open over your stomach, his impossibly long tongue reaching as far into you as it could go.

His tongue slowly withdrew from you and you didn’t know whether to beg for him to keep going or take your reprieve from the overwhelming sensation while you could.

You noticed his hips shifting and glanced down. Your heart skipped a beat.

He was massive, probably a foot long.

“That’s not going to fit,” you whispered.

The dragon shook his head. “No, I would never try. You’re too small, it would break you. I wouldn’t hurt you.”

“What about you?” you asked, feeling bad you couldn’t reciprocate.

“I have everything I need,” he said, nuzzling into your chest once more. “But if you want someone your size, we could always ask for help.”

Your face heated as you realized what he was implying. To be honest, you’d entirely forgotten Phillip was there, too caught up in what you were doing. Oh god, he’d probably heard everything.

Pytho lifted his wings as you looked at Phillip, who had turned to face the wall.

“I am so sorry,” you called out, embarrassment washing over you.

He turned to you slowly and you prepared to get yelled at.

Instead, his voice came out breathy and strained. “Do you want me to help?”

Your heart skipped a beat as you stared back at him. “I do.

He moved towards the pair of you. “I live to serve”

You wanted to kiss him. You wanted so badly to kiss him and you just couldn’t.

So instead you made do, grabbing his hand and pulling him towards you. He fell next to you, both of you leaning against Pytho.

He froze a little as your hands neared his helmet and you whispered, “Trust me.”

He untensed, although you could sense his anxiety.

You grasped the side of his helmet slowly, tilting it gently to the side to reveal a sliver of his neck. You moved towards it, taking all the self-control you had to go slowly.

He shivered as you neared him, your breath ghosting over his skin.

You started gently, pressing soft kisses into his skin.

Before long you wanted more, nipping at his neck and sucking marks into it as he let out little whines. You could feel his throat move as he swallowed, could feel his muscles tense as you moved.

Eventually, he pulled you away from him and you looked up at him, wide-eyed.

“Um…” he said, his voice shaky and high. “If you do want me to… to help. You need to stop doing that.

You smiled, resting your forehead on his helm. “If you insist.”

The way you’d pulled at his clothes, shifting his shirt out of the way, meant you could see as he gulped.

His hand hovered inches over your hip, as if afraid to touch you. You covered it with your own, pressing it onto bare skin.

You didn’t mind his staring so much now. You could feel the waves of awe coming off of him as his hands gently slid up and down your sides.

You hooked your fingers into the front of his pants and pulled him closer to you.

“Please,” you asked.

He didn’t bother taking his pants off, instead pulling them down just enough to get his dick out, already painfully hard.

Pytho’s tongue had more than prepared you and Phillip seemed like if someone breathed on him wrong he might come so you wasted no time, pulling him over to you.

Pytho sat there, watching as Phillip pushed inside of you. He was painfully slow, groaning with every inch.

Your walls fluttered as his hand pressed tentatively down on your clit and he had to stop entirely, breathing slowly.

“Do you know how hard it was,” he gasped out as he buried himself fully inside of you, unmoving. “Hearing all that and not touching myself. It felt like torture.

You could feel Pytho shifting behind you, molding himself against your back as you saw his hips twitch, grinding against nothing.

You opened your mouth to speak when your words were cut off with a sharp thrust.

Phillip gripped your hips so hard you were worried it might bruise in the morning. You couldn’t bring yourself to care.

He slowly found his rhythm, desperately trying to pull you impossibly closer as he thrusted inside of you.

You felt something hard against your back, moving as Phillip slammed inside of you again. And then, as if sharing one mind, you felt a sticky substance coat your back just as Phillip gave you one final, hard thrust, groaning as he came inside of you.

As soon as Phillip pulled out, Pytho rushed to snake his tongue back inside of you. It was so dexterous, pressing up perfectly inside of you as he tasted both you and Phillip.

Phillips fingers intertwined with yours as your back arched and you felt waves of pleasure run through you. Pytho seemed intent on working you through it, his tongue moving steadily until you could take it anymore.

You pushed at his head and he lifted it, mouth slick and eyes looking just as dazed as you felt.

You were all gross and sticky and you’d never been happier in your life.

Phillip snorted. “I was supposed to kill you.”

“Plans change,” you said.

“You never could have killed me,” Pytho declared and you couldn’t help but smile as their argument began again.

You woke up in a tangle of limbs. Your head was tucked into Phillip's chest, his arms wrapped around you with just the tip of Pytho’s tail betwixt you. You were both entirely surrounded by him, curled up protectively around you.

Pytho had to take both of you down to the nearest lake to get clean the next morning. He sat patiently at the edge of the pond as both of you washed off the mess from the night before.

Phillip helped you clean, scrubbing your back and running his fingers gently through your hair as you both stood in the waist-deep water.

You’d had the good sense to remove your clothes but Phillip had to clean his along with himself, standing in the water in his pants, shirt, and that helmet.

It seemed a little silly but you wouldn’t bother him over it. It would come in due time. Or maybe it wouldn’t and honestly, you didn’t think you would mind.

Pytho was content watching the two of you, occasionally shifting his tail to splash water at you, a favor you returned to him readily.

As the cleaning finished and the three of you sat on the shore, drying off, Phillip braided your hair as you both leaned against your warm dragon.

You were curious where he’d learned it but scared to ask, to remind him of anything other than this perfect moment.

He did not seem to understand how precious and fragile this moment was, breaking the silence by saying, “I can’t stay here,” and shattering everything.

You looked at him with panicked eyes and Pytho hid his head under his wing.

“What?”

His next words came slower, more gently. “I think we’ve made a little home here. I do. But I can’t just stay.”

You nodded. You understood. “Neither can I. You’re going off adventuring again, right?”

He nodded and you immediately added, before you could lose your nerve. “I want to come.”

“It’s going to be dangerous,” he said, his voice not commanding but instead cautious and worried.

“Please. I need to do something, to help someone. I feel like I’ve got a debt on my back. I can’t let it hang over me like this forever.”

He went to protest but you stopped him. “I don’t care what you think, I can’t live with it. Please.”

He nodded. “First, we’re going to need to find my sword.”

You gave him an apologetic smile. “I’m sure it won’t be too hard.”

“And we can’t come back every night,” he continued. “You’re going to have to spend days on the road. You sure that’s what you want?”

You rolled your eyes. “I think I can manage for a few days.”

Pytho lifted his head from where he was hiding it. “Come back? You said you can’t stay?”

It took a second to understand what he could possibly be asking. The idea of leaving him forever was so inconceivable to you that you hadn’t realized what this must have looked like.

You rushed over to him, kissing his forehead. “No, I’m not leaving you. Neither of us are. We just…I just can’t stay in a cave for the rest of my life.”

“People will still need helping,” Phillip chimed in, standing behind you. “I won’t ever stop doing this. It’s what I was made to do. But it's been too long. I think it was about time I found a home to come back to.”

You smiled at him as you leaned into your dragon’s side. “I think it was.”

#terato #terato writing #monster x reader #monster x human #monster boyfriend #monster bf #dragon x reader #dragon boyfriend #dragon #dragon bf #The cws on this are wild #Phillip’s armour set up is a little wonky compared to most real armour #I attribute this to his accursed knight status #Definitely not just for narrative ease #I would never #also I came up with this idea and then wrote the whole thing in like 6 days #Everyone say thank you ducky #lol

4K notes · View notes

starmosaics · 3 months ago

Text

Many Rohinis are known for being in the public eye and having an infectious presence— whether it’s good or bad, eyes are on them, but from my observations and my own personal experience along with having loved ones with Rohini placements, most of us feel like we’re playing a part.

You can find Rohinis sometimes unknowingly play into someone’s projections or fantasies of them, other times they’re entirely aware. This may leave the Rohini native feeling alone and misunderstood because of their tendency to show people what they want to see, not who they actually are within. I feel like people tend to have this “idea” about Rohinis that can be so far off from the reality that at times the Rohini native may unconsciously absorb whatever that idea of them is. The Moon is receptive meaning it is constantly receiving stimuli and is sensitive to its environment; it can be easily influenced. Rohinis also receive a lot of passivity, jealousy and anger from people when they don’t match that person’s idea of them. However you perceive a Rohini to be, in worst cases the Rohini can mirror it back to you as we know the Moon reflects.

Marilyn Monroe for example had a Rohini Sun and was either loved or totally loathed by the public and had this reputation for being this beautiful and sensual actress. She often publicly portrayed herself as this innocent woman with a teasing presence that made men go crazy for her, yet she had a very sorrowful and vulnerable side that not many people got to see.

She was known for something called “The Marilyn Monroe Effect” where she would alter herself into a persona which caught people’s eyes. Essentially, Marilyn was wearing a mask. She was a character perceived as a sex symbol by the male gaze.

In her journal entries, Marilyn wrote about loneliness. Bette Davis also said she could sense Marilyn’s loneliness when asked about the actress as she and Marilyn starred in a film together.

Another example is Rohini Sun Priscilla Beaulieu who was 14 when she met her future husband Elvis Presley who was significantly older than her. She was heavily idealized by Elvis and was deemed to have an innocence that Elvis favored. Elvis claimed that he could “train her anyway he wanted.” He ended up doing exactly that; molding her into his fantasy wife, treating her as if she was a doll. He made her dress a certain way, he made her wear makeup and told her to dye her hair and she willingly did out of love for Elvis to embody being “the perfect wife”. Once again, here’s an example of a Rohini playing a role and being shaped by those surrounding them. She also had a lot of Elvis’ fans show disdain towards her as she was dating one of the biggest stars at the time.

In the 2023 film “Priscilla” directed by Sofia Coppola, based on Priscilla’s book “Elvis and Me”, it dives into Priscilla’s backstory. The director perfectly depicts how lonely Priscilla was standing beside Elvis. Many of the scenes within this film show Priscilla being alone in a large empty house.

Rohinis often put their best foot forward to show the world and those they love much like Marilyn and Priscilla did and as a Rohini Sun myself, I can heavily relate. It would make sense for people with this nakshatra in their charts to do such since Rohini is Lunar in nature and the Moon has a mysterious and deep side; being selective as to what you present to the masses (Moon rules masses). There’s a very soft, vulnerable and somewhat melancholic side of Rohini that they possess.

It’s a very vulnerable thing to unmask and show the real and raw unfiltered self when you’re idealized by others or expected to show up a certain way, and it can be a very isolating feeling to not feel understood by anybody which is a very familiar phenomenon to those with Rohini placements. When people don't grasp your nature, thoughts and feelings, it can create a profound sense of isolation, making you feel alone even when surrounded by others, which is what I meant by in an earlier post about how Rohinis may feel alone in a room full of people. To be unknown or misunderstood is to be lonely.

#rohini #nakshatra #rohini nakshatra #astrology #astro notes #astro observations #astro community #vedic astro observations #vedic astro notes #vedic astrology #vedic #m

256 notes · View notes

yoonkinii · 9 days ago

Text

Jjk M.list

Gojo Satoru

Perfectly Imperfect

Synopsis: Everyone is born with a soulmate. Everyone knows by the time they hit age 18, a different kind of soulmate mark will appear. Some are unable to see color until they meet their soulmates gaze, others have matching tattoos. These are the more common ones; ones that can be tracked down in history but others are rare. So rare that there’s rarely any information available about it. Rare like yours and the only case of this soulmarking was dated decades ago with only two lines describing it.

"Person A and Person B afflicted by this marking will discover themselves to be covered in string-like tattoo markings in certain areas. These areas are what the soulmate A or B deem unworthy of themselves; or rather, what they hate about themself."

This wouldn't be a problem for you if it wasnt for the fact that everything from the collarbone to your ankles was decorated in white string-like lines.

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x Reader

Theme song: Bonfire - wave to earth

What color is my sky painted? What color is your emotion? Close your eyes slowly and feel the wind. The bonfire is fading out. Maybe we are falling Falling down with the rain.

amore mio aiutami- Piero Piccioni (literally the song that plays when M/C looks at him)

Warning(s):

18+, Sub!Gojo (gasp!), cursing, mentions of self-hate, discussion of Self-hate, mentions of minor character death- Will be added as chapters progress but if you see something that I didn’t include here, please let me know!

Note(s):

Expect this to be a short fic. I do not plan on having this over 6 parts and even then it could be less or couple chapters more. Depends on how I write everything.

Part(s): TBA

Ryomen Sukuna

Snippets of Love

Synopsis: Glimpses of your relationship with Sukuna through prompts/questions.

Paring: Sukuna x Reader

Theme Song: Heart To Heart - Mac DeMarco

So I had a late Arrival So, we never saw the start of each others lives heart to heart

Notable tags: ModernAU, slight age gap, Canon/Fanon implements, Sukuna still has his tattoos, CEO Sukuna, uncle Sukuna, college student reader, pierced Sukuna.

Note(s): Inspired to do this series based on Kyarrcha fanart of Sukuna on Instagram! I want this to be mostly based on requests about certain moments such as when Sukuna and you first met, first date, and things like that. This can also include certain scenarios or environments. Feel free to send in requests but I will also add in my own takes.

Requests: Open.

Warnings: will be listed in the sections.

You are not required to read snippets in order, but it is recommended.

How y♡u first met Sukuna!

How y♡u met Sukuna again (and got his number)!

First date with Sukuna!

Sukuna letting y♡u doll him up!

Sukuna with drunk y♡u

Jealous Y♡u

Argument with Sukuna

Choso Kamo

Echos of Desire

Synopsis: Choso is one of the few to possess abilities that transcend human limits. His family was taken away from him and he was given to serve the king. He was trained in nothing else but to kill and follow orders. He was a man made weapon. His name whispered in fear- the kingdom's boogeyman. He hates it though. Hates how his freedom was ripped from his hands. Hates how his ‘gift’ is more like a curse. He is offered a deal he can’t deny- transport the princess to safety in a neighboring kingdom. The only problem is, she’s the daughter of the man that took everything from him and she is being hunted down by unknown forces.

Pairing: Choso x Reader

Theme Song: my love is mine all mine - Mitski

Moon, tell me if I could Send up my heart to you? So, when I die, which I must do Could it shine down here with you? 'Cause my love is mine, all mine I love mine, mine, mine

Notable tags: FantasyAU, Fanon (I am creating my own world and using some pieces of jjk in it), major character death, burning alive, abuse, gore, blood, mentions of self loathing, anger. (Will be updated as more parts come out)

Note(s): Just a little something.

Part(s): 1 |

Headers by @uzmacchiato

#jjk #jjk fanfic #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujustsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #sukuna x reader #choso x reader

87 notes · View notes

kakashixhatakesxwhore · 10 months ago

Note

hc/short story/blurb?? for shino with a girl that specializes on plant jutsu? I like thinking of them as sort of like in nature. (I had to look it up lol) mutualism! 🌱🪲

Also whenever shino (attempts) to talk, she takes all of it in. When shino’s not around, she notices and remembers him. Shino and her go back and forth about all sorts of stuff; she asks about Shino’s bugs and his favorites and she actually listens. Shino finally reciprocates and asks about her plants and all that.

She vibes well with most of the teams though so she’s got friend groups up the wazoo. Shino’s petty as fuck so I’m getting some jealous vibes from him too. But he shouldn’t feel that way over someone he’s not even in a relationship with, he thinks…. Not with the first person that’s actually remembered him, no……

(Also, shino’s canonically packing so do with that as you will, my friend. I just need something for our beloved bug boy.)

this request had me in a chokehold for two whole days - i really ran with this, it's pretty long, but sets up well for the last part of your request - i hope this hits your marks, thank you for the request!!

The Art of Mutual Growth

Pairing: Shino x f!Reader

Summary: Shino meets his perfect match while on a mission, and he quickly finds out that his solitude was dust, compared to the castle of your company.

W/c: 4.3k

Warnings: Swearing, talk of suicide (Shino's terribly dramatic about you), self-loathing

Notes: i was imagining Shino a few years post Blank Period in this, but this could work for Boruto era Shino too if y'all are in to that top knot - if you want a smuttier part 2, i got that shit lined right up, just lmk

Masterlist💿

He was used to being overlooked, discounted, alone. It never bothered him - even in love, his parents were solitary people, raising him to be unbothered by a sullen lack of attention. Being left to his own devices, Shino turned to his bugs for solace, and they provided as much as they could. To his knowledge, he was perfectly happy, alone with his insects.

But then you danced into his life, a trail of flowers in your wake.

You were his perfect match; a woman who could use Plant Release technique. Your kekkei tota was a gift of your Kiso blood, but too powerful for you to ever have full control over. Still, your control was wildly impressive, and your technical fighting skills were more precise than any Shino had seen before. Unlike him, you hailed from the Land of Flowers, but you couldn't reveal any further personal details at the time. It was a shame that the mission that brought you to Shino didn't allow him the time he so desperately needed to talk to you.

Side by side, you and he had fought together. Your snaking vines fed Shino's bugs chakra, and allowed them to infiltrate places on your vines with a much greater speed and accuracy than they ever could when Shino was alone. His bugs found your chakra delicious, almost as distracted as he was by you and your power. The recon mission went without hitch, mainly thanks to your immense amount of pure chakra and will to prove your capabilities. It was a shame.

Upon the mission's completion, Shino merely listened to your cracking conversation with Kiba and Shikamaru, resigned to the fact that he had missed his chance, already moving on in his mind.

When the team returned to the Hidden Leaf, Shino was ready to be the first to leave, already peeling away from the group until...

"I'm sorry," your sweet voice said timidly, behind Shino.

He stopped in his tracks, and you did as well, staying right behind him. The bugs' chakra told him you seemed nervous, which arguably relaxed him. Clipped, he asked, "What for?"

"We never got the chance to get to know each other," you grinned, coming around Shino to face him with a placid smile. Extending your hand, you gave him your name, and with a charm to your tone, asked for his.

Clearing his throat, Shino couldn't find his voice for a second. He had never seen such a pretty smile, let alone been the receiver of one. Your bubbly attitude caught him off guard. He couldn't fathom what you were doing, why you would be wasting your time, talking to him. You could've stayed with the team, striking up any number of conversations with one of them... but you didn't. You chose to talk to him.

"Shino Aburame," he said finally, taking your warm hand in his.

"You're wonderfully strong, Shino," you hummed, shaking his hand slightly. "The chakra control you possess is to be envied. I'd love to know more about your insects, if you have the time."

Staring the gift horse right in the mouth, he scoffed, "You must be joking."

"No." The expression you wore quickly became confused, but your tone genuinely despondent. With a twitch, you let go of his hand and Shino could feel his heart plummet. "No, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-"

From behind, Kiba's strong voice cut you off. "Hey, Y/n! Wanna take a tour of Konoha?" He came bounding up to the pair of you, Akamaru by his side, stealing your attention from Shino. "I'm free to be your guide, unless...you two..."

Looking back at Shino for a moment, you seemed to mull something over thoroughly in your mind. Your eyes were full of expectation, and Shino could feel his palms dampen.

"Go with him," Shino said, as casually as he could, though his words came out rather harshly.

He wished he could take it back as soon as he said it. The feeling that came when he saw a sharp sparkle in your eye, followed by an overbearing dullness, made Shino feel empty and so very stupid. Your lips drew straight, and your air became serious - everything about you became stony, frigid. The exact opposite of your demeanour before Shino had opened his stupid mouth.

Maintaining eye contact with Shino as you took Kiba up on his offer, he could feel his heart leap from his chest and into your palm. You squeezed it then, and when he watched you walk away with Kiba and his ninken, you crushed it.

In the aftermath of the successful recon mission, you were invited by the Fifth Hokage to stay in Konoha and train under her. You took her up, of course, and became an active member of the society within the Hidden Leaf. Everywhere Shino went, there you would be, talking to swarms of people at a time.

It was Promethean punishment, that he didn't deserve.

You would never speak to him again, because he was born with his foot in his mouth. He would be cursed to see you everywhere he turned, but you would never speak to him again.

A week had passed since you came to Konoha to stay. Shino had been tantalized, shown exactly what he wanted but couldn't have, for seven days, and he was sick to death. His solitude had never felt so solitary, watching you bop around the village with an onslaught of people.

It was made even worse by the fact that he had consistently been catching you, staring at him. The bugs would be abuzz, begging Shino to ask you to sprout one of your vines, telling him that you looked ready to approach him, yourself. He ignored then dually, thinking they were exaggerating your apparent willingness to speak to him. Why would you ever leave a full entourage, just to speak to him?

With the sun sinking lowly over Hokage Mountain, Shino decided to wrap up his meditation and just go home. His body was alight with energy, but his soul begged for rest and reprieve, something that Shino could not provide. As such, he left the sanctity of his neck of the woods to make a medial dinner and have a long sleep. Maybe that would fix him, though it hadn't seemed to work for the last week. Shino felt restless, completely unable to settle in a way that even resembled himself before you came along.

He would just have to get over you. The chance you served up on a silver platter had been spit on, and you would surely never serve it again. Shino had to move onward and upward, he couldn't stagnate.

But then-

There you were. In his hallway. In front of a door. Fiddling with your keys and hissing curses under your breath.

And all Shino could think was, I am going to make her my wife. I need to marry this woman.

"Hi."

You looked up, startled, but quickly smiled and looked back at your keys, still pulling and shoving. Slowly, you said, "Hey...Shino, right?"

He had never heard his name like that before. It dripped with silver and gold as it left your pretty lips, and Shino never wanted anyone else to say his name again. Only you. Only you, forever.

Looking up at his lack of response, you seemed nervous but tried to smile. "You're my bug boy, aren't you?"

"Yes," he said a little too quickly. The nervousness vanished from your expression as embarrassment became his. He cleared his throat, trying again, "Yeah. That's me. Shino."

She remembered. Her bug boy. Her's. She knows. I need to make her mine. Someway, somehow.

"I didn't think I knew anyone in the building," you said, finally procuring the key you wanted from the tangle. You slipped it into your door, the smiled at Shino, the nervousness coming back to you. In a light voice, you asked, "Would you...would you like to come in? Have a tea? With me?"

Shino thought he had died and gone to Heaven. There was no other plausible reason for him to have been getting another opportunity with you, this one infinitely more golden than the last.

The lock clicked and you opened the door, still awaiting his answer. A rush of cool air came over Shino, standing near your door. Leaning back, Shino tried to bite back his forming grin, before saying,

"I would like that very much."

You mumbled something under your breath and stepped into the apartment. Shino followed in after you, welcomed by the scent of lavender and rosemary. As you let him look around the living room, you went to the kitchen to prepare the tea.

Shino had never seen such a beautiful little place, especially not one that reflected it's inhabitant so well. Plants sprawled across every wall, their pots interconnected through a series of braided vines that wrapped and weaved around the others. All of the wooden things in the apartment were birch, the coffee table, the bookshelves, the chairs. To boot, all of the pillows and cushions were a pale, dusty green colour. Books and journals laid all over, accompanied by a myriad weapons and solo-practice materials. The feeling of peace was abundant in the small apartment, Shino found himself actually start to relax.

So, he would be letting you decorate the house when you eventually became his wife. This was useful information to Shino.

"Sencha or matcha?" You asked him, poking your head out of the kitchen.

You cared. "Sencha."

"Okay, give me another minute." You ducked back into the kitchen, your hair flowing so nicely behind you.

Feeling his bugs growing anticipatory, he began to try and suppress them. The last thing Shino wanted right now was for his bugs to take advantage of your hospitality. But his refusal only made them angrier. With your vines so near, it was like holding a lollipop in front of a child and saying no.

Coming back into the living room with a tea tray, you smiled at Shino, making him neglect his control over the bugs. Almost immediately, a swarm of insects came from Shino's body and flocked to the nearest vine before Shino could do anything about it. He swore and started trying to wrangle them, only stopping when he heard your melodic laugh.

He never wanted to hear anything else again. Not even the way you said his name could compare to your laughter - no sweeter sound had ever been produced.

"I don't mind, Shino, let them be," you hummed, setting the tray onto the table almost silently. Shino turned to you slowly, unsure if you were just letting your hospitality speak for you. You laughed, "It's fine. I promise."

"Whatever you say," Shino replied faintly, still not convinced but not willing to argue with you for even a second.

He came around to the couch as you picked up the jade teapot and poured both cups. He thanked you, taking up his teacup while you sat down on the couch. Sipping the steaming beverage, Shino hummed,

"This might be the best tea I've ever had."

"I'm glad," you grinned, sipping your tea before patting the cushion beside you. "Sit with me. Please."

Without hesitation, Shino sat on the furthest edge of the couch, giving you the space you deserved. You just giggled softly, collecting your legs onto the couch and shifting your entire body to face Shino. He smiled absentmindedly, heart thumping inside of his chest.

"So, I have to ask," you started. Shino turned more toward you, giving you his full attention. "Why did you get all aggro when I asked you about your bugs, the other day?"

Oh. No. No, this wasn't what he wanted. No.

"It...erm, it was... I don't..." Stars above, wasn't he pathetic? Couldn't even speak to the only person he wanted to speak to. He sighed deeply, "It wasn't the bugs, I just... I thought you were making fun of me when... when you... you know...?"

Furrowing your eyebrows as he blathered, you looked at Shino like he was crazy. He had never had so much trouble stringing together a sentence, and he didn't even finish the thought. The silence that followed was thick and heavy, just making Shino feel worse about his inability to talk to you.

"When I complimented your chakra and your control?" You asked finally. Shino nodded, just thankful that you spoke and he didn't have to. To his surprise, you smiled that sweet smile of yours and asked, "Why?"

"Who are you? The police?"

"Oh, n-no... I'm sorry."

Fuck, he could've killed himself. Only Shino Aburame could make a joke that wipes the smile off of your face. It was his voice, it wasn't jovial enough. No, it was his face, he looked too mean. No, no, it was his brain.

"No, I'm sorry," Shino sighed, setting his cup on the coffee table before rubbing his eyes under his sunglasses. "It's the fact that you're as powerful as you are... and I'm not..."

"We don't have to talk about that."

Letting a short chuckle fall from his lips, Shino looked at you from the side of his glasses, getting a fully coloured vision of you in his peripheral. He took a breath, then felt a small bubble of laughter as he asked,

"Then what do you want to talk about?" He sipped his tea, letting it warm his hands. "I'm a much better listener than talker, if you haven't caught on."

"I could've guessed." Narrowing his eyes, though you couldn't see them, Shino turned his head to you slowly. You laughed freely, "I talk too much as it is. I've got some innate need to chew the air. Aren't we a lovely pair?"

The church bells ringing, everyone's chatter falling to a hush as the organ begins-

"Hm, you've got such a nice voice, Shino - it's a pity you want to deprive me of it."

And here you are, coming down the aisle, right into his arms.

"W-what do you want me to say?" He asked quickly, chomping at the bit to make you happy. He didn't even have the mind to question your sentiment, just elated that it existed.

You sipped your tea, saying, "Tell me about your bugs."

"You're not making this easy for someone born to be a mute," he joked, watching your reaction intensely. Shino prayed his tone was humorous, that the small smile on his lips would support him.

And, to his joy, you laughed. Warm and rich, each soundwave landed on Shino's ear like a butterfly's kiss. You hummed, "I'm sorry-"

"And, please, stop apologizing to me - you haven't had a thing to be sorry for," he added.

"Okay," you said softly, looking at Shino with a matching expression. "Who's your favourite, then?"

That was a hard question for Shino to answer, especially given the bugs were in the room. But they were distracted, and so was he - both parties too under your influence to care.

Shino was still stumbling over his words and forgetting the most important ones, but you remained patient and attentive. It seemed you either were enchanted by his voice, or you were genuinely interested in what he had to say. Either way, Shino felt confidence bloom within him, and he started launching into great detail about his insects.

With rapt attention, you listened to every word that came from his mouth. Here and there, you would interject valid questions into the lulls of his speech, and he would answer them fully. As the two of you gradually finished the entire teapot, Shino found himself talking, and talking, and talking. He suddenly couldn't shut up.

"Fuckin' pot's empty," you grumbled, letting the final drop drip into Shino's half-full cup. "Want me to put on another, or do you fancy something else?"

"It's getting late, and I've already taken up enough of your time," he declined politely, finishing off the swig in his cup.

You sighed, "You say that like I've not been enjoying myself over the last-" Glancing at your watch, you gasped, "-three hours. Jumping Jehovah, I'm so sorry, I totally sucked up your night under the guise of tea."

"I would've just been sitting around, wanting to talk to you anyway," Shino chuckled lowly, feeling rather bold after having spent so much time with you.

Both of you stood from the couch with bashful smiles, each too shy to look at the other. Shino walked to your door and you followed after him.

"Do you want me to walk you to your door?"

He laughed lightly, "I don't expect that of you, but I'd have to be insane to turn down your company."

Opening the door wide, Shino motioned for you to go through. You thanked him kindly, then walked beside him in the hallway, five whole paces, to his door.

"Thank you for the tea, Y/n," he murmured, getting out his keys.

Your hand found purchase between his shoulder blades, making Shino freeze in his motion. His eyes darted to your face, finding the beautiful crescent of your smile in full bloom. "Anytime. We should make it a thing."

"We should."

"Goodnight, Shino."

"Goodnight, Y/n."

The breeze floated down the street with Shino. Today was the day, and it seemed even nature knew it. Nothing could slow him down, nothing could stand in his way.

Today was the day.

He had decided last night, today was going to be the day. It was an easy decision to make, but the gathering of courage tested Shino's resolve. But he was ardent, he was determined. Even if he did stutter, you would find it endearing, just like you had for the last six months. Even if he did say something wrong, you would understand, just like you always did.

Today, he was going to make you his. And he would finally be yours.

The plan was simple; show up at your door with something you would enjoy and deliver a great, long monologue that perfectly encapsulated every emotion he felt for you, then you would jump into Shino's arms and promise yourself to him.

The issues immediately became obvious; you could've hated the gift, he could've (and probably would've) screwed the monologue up to high Heaven, and, scariest of all, you might not have been so quick to jump into his arms.

Shino could have potentially been planning on destroying the only relationship that ever particularly flowed naturally for him. He didn't want to think about that, not at all.

Not when today was the day.

The act of getting you a gift turned out to be more of a tribulation than Shino had imagined it to be. Nothing was grand enough, nothing meaningful enough. He needed something that would blow your socks off, something that would reduce you to the babbling fool that he became around you.

After spending an hour scouring the market squares, Shino moved to the trading post. Even longer was spent there, looking through stalls and trying to picture your reaction to each thing that struck him. But nothing was good enough. Nothing would ever be good enough for you.

Settling on a pricey collection of teas before the trading post closed, Shino haggled with the old man selling the tea. Just trying to get the price down to the amount he had in his wallet, Shino eventually left the trading post, coatless and penniless.

It didn't matter. Today was the day.

Stars, he wondered how nerve-wracking the ring shopping would be in a few years if this little trifle was causing so much strife.

Rounding the corner of the main street, Shino mulled over what to say to you. He just wanted to say I love you and kiss you, but that left you no agency. Even though it was becoming abundantly clear that you were interested in him, Shino still wanted to give you the chance to say no.

One thing that Shino hadn't taken in to account, though, were your other relationships.

And, as you came out of a restaurant with Kiba and Akamaru, Shino realized how grave of a mistake he had made.

Your face shone with a smile, ear to ear as you laughed at some witty quip Kiba delivered. He smiled back proudly, looking at you hungrily. The three of you began to walk toward Shino and he wanted the ground to open up and swallow him whole.

"Oh! Shino!" You exclaimed brightly the second you saw him. Tearing away from Kiba and his ninken, you quickened your pace to Shino. He took a step back as you approached, otherwise frozen. Your happiness faded to worry as you asked, "Are you okay? What's wrong?"

The fact that anyone else could be graced by your laugh was wrong. The fact that you just finished what looked a lot like a date with Shino's former teammate was wrong. The fact that you didn't know what was wrong, was wrong.

"Shino, sweetheart, talk to me," you commanded gently. Kiba and Akamaru loomed a few paces behind you, trying to look like they weren't intensely listening. It aggravated Shino monumentally.

Everything about how today was becoming was aggravating him. Shino couldn't even enjoy his name on your tongue, let alone the pet name you had given him. It all felt like lip service.

"I got this for you," he said weakly, offering up the wooden box in his grasp. You looked down and cocked your eyebrow, before looking back at Shino. "I wanted to... to... nevermind." His heart was shattering. "Just take it."

Even if the gift wouldn't have the same effect, Shino wanted to see your reaction. He truly thought you would like the tea, potentially more so now that his unrequited feelings weren't attached. Cautiously, you took the box from Shino but didn't open it.

"You just wanted to what?" You asked, still so concerned over the man before you. "Where's your jacket? Shino, please, what's wrong?"

"Nothing, it's not important."

"Something is clearly bothering you, and it is important," you rebutted, acquiring a slight edge. "What's bothering you? If you don't tell me, I can't help."

Fuck.

"I love you!" He shouted, putting every single emotion he felt into his words.

Fuck.

Feeling like he was going to cry, Shino turned on his heel and walked. He didn't want your reaction now, he just wanted to save face, if that was even at all possible, at this point.

"Shino," your sweet voice said timidly, right behind him.

Stopping dead in his tracks, Shino hung his head lowly. The bugs were no help, just saying your eyes were as glossy as his.

Slowly, you came around to face Shino and bent lowly enough to be in his view. You smiled up at him and he couldn't help but smile back, taking in the odd posture you assumed as you let the wooden box rest beside your feet. Everything felt so silly. So trivial.

"Yeah?"

You straightened out, making Shino's head follow you as his eyes stayed glued to your face. Your beautiful face.

"Before I make myself look stupid-" Your sentiment made Shino scoff a laugh, because no one could look more stupid than him. Sweetly, you just smiled, continuing, "Do you love me platonically, or romantically?"

He took a deep breath, blinking slowly, before answering, "Every single way under the sun."

"Good," you beamed, taking a step forward and taking the lapels of Shino's flak jacket into your hands, pulling him forward. On your toes, your face came closer to his than it ever had been before, your petal soft lips brushing against his so gently as you said, "I love you too."

Not wasting a moment, not getting in his head, Shino knew that this was it.

He leaned down, closing the small gap, and met your lips fantastically. Not even Shino's wildest, wettest dream could've prepared him for the utter decadence of your kiss. His hands found your hips, pulling you as closely as he had needed you to be for months. But it wasn't enough, for either of you.

Leaning even lower, Shino's left hand cascaded down your lower back and you got the message. Immediately, you jumped up and he caught the bottom of your thigh, squeezing your tender flesh with his left hand while his right explored your back, sitting you atop his hip bones. Your legs locked behind Shino, squishing his waist in a way he didn't know he craved so badly. Warmth exuded from your being, a warmth that Shino longed to be blanketed under and hidden within.

"Come back to my place," you said between kisses. Shino just smiled and started to walk, but then you stopped kissing him, making him stop on a dime. Running your fingers up his lapels and allowing his neck the sweet contact, you laughed, "What's in the box, if you can just leave it in the middle of the street?"

With a chuckle, Shino turned around. He noticed Kiba had left, and he felt a wave of satisfaction wash over him. Not putting you down, Shino knelt and picked up the heavy box with his right hand, holding it behind you.

You groaned, scratching his neck lightly, "My stars, you're strong."

"You never noticed?" Shino joked, though a feeling of pride surged through him.

"I've noticed you're impressive in a few different respects," you replied with a teasing lilt. Moving your hips, Shino felt a friction that was positively dream-like and you purred, "Don't you want to impress me?"

"More than anything." And he meant every syllable.

"Good," you hummed, placing a lingering kiss to Shino's lips. You looked at him, eyes more obviously filled with desire than Shino had ever thought visibly possible. "Take me home."

By his lucky stars, Shino would gladly do so for the rest of his life.

Part 2 - The Art of Mutual Pleasure

#shino aburame #shino aburame x reader #shino aburame fluff #naruto shino #shino naruto #naruto fanfiction #shino #aburame shino #aburame shino x reader #shino x reader

194 notes · View notes

olivialau · 1 month ago

Text

Shadow's Embrace Ch.34

Sukuna x Reader

Notes:

This story is set in the Jujutsu Kaisen universe/slight AU where Sukuna inhabits his own vessel, separate from Itadori Yuji's body, and is accomplices with the Jogo, Geto/Kenjaku, Mahito gang.

Summary:

Ryomen Sukuna, the King of Curses, becomes fascinated with a female sorcerer rich in potential but lacking control. Initially seizing her for his destructive plans, Sukuna aims to bind her abilities through a contract. Yet, as he tries to dominate her, he finds himself intrigued by her strength and determination. Over time, his interest evolves from strategic advantage to a deeper, personal connection.

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

CHAPTER 34– Inferno

You fiddled with the whistle in the pocket of your uniform, the cold metal gliding over the anxious sweat of your palms. Your feet hit the floor with restless taps, matching the frenzied pace of your mind as one worried thought spiraled into another. Gojo’s voice barely filtered through, which was quite a feat considering the animated way he delivered his lecture. The usual symphony of Yuji’s warm laughter and Nobara’s sharp quips had faded to white noise.

Only Megumi seemed to share in your mental absence, his dark eyes fixed on some distant point beyond the window while his foot maintained a slower but equally restless rhythm. Yet you doubted his worries were as nauseating as yours, as bitter with the poison of forthcoming betrayal.

You glanced at the clock. Less than two hours until…

Your insides coiled with the same uneasy dread that had sent you running yesterday.

After that kiss, you’d raced home, breathless and frantic, your shirt sticking to your back, hands clutching at your hair in panic. Why, oh why, did you have to go and do that?

Flustered beyond coherent thought, you’d resorted to humanity’s most primitive—and perhaps most childish—defense against an inevitably mortifying rendezvous: pretending to be asleep.

On the couch, you leveled your breath to slow and even waves, closed your eyes, and held your face perfectly still in artificial peace. You maintained this vigil through the eternal hour it took for Sukuna to return.

When the lock finally clicked, you tracked his footsteps through the apartment with quiet focus, ears perked to catch each shuffle of his sandals across the oak floor.

Halfway to his room, he stopped dead in his tracks.

A heavy sigh drifted down to where you laid, and for an agonizing minute, you wondered if he could see the thumping of your heart.

You wondered what look he was regarding you with. Was it disgust, detachment, anger… endearment?

The soft squeak of his bedroom door finally broke the tension, and with him back in the apartment, the familiar pressure of his cursed energy settled into the air. Oddly enough, you found it calmed your frayed nerves rather than set them on edge.

Like a cozy weighted blanket, it soothed you to sleep…

This morning, you’d woken to an empty apartment—no trace of his energy. Sukuna had already left, taking that strange comfort with him and leaving you with a shitload of worries and a whistle in your pocket.

You tilted back on the rear legs of your chair, nearly losing balance but not even flinching because, well, if you fell, it would have been well-deserved.

Sure, you’d managed to negotiate some measure of safety for your friends, but whatever Patchface and Volcano-head were coming to steal would become just another piece in their grand design against Jujutsu society. What you were about to do was still inherently evil, would still inevitably lead to chaos, violence, even death down the line.

You tried to comfort yourself with the thought that even without your complicated feelings for Sukuna, the binding vow would have forced your hand anyway.

So why did that do nothing to ease the writhing guilt in your gut?

A sudden weight on your shoulders snapped you out of your spiral of self-loathing. Nobara’s perfume, vanilla and jasmine—wafted up your nose as she leaned close.

“Class ended five minutes ago, slowpoke. What are you spacing out for? Don’t tell me there’s a guy on your mind—” She punctuated her question with a playful flick to your ear before gently tucking a strand of hair behind it.

She wasn’t entirely wrong.

You shifted to put your notebook away, but as you ducked to reach for your backpack, something snagged your collar. “Hold up—just fixing a fold…” You glanced over your shoulder to find Nobara’s perfectly manicured nails pulling at the fabric until…

Her eyes widened to saucers as she caught a glimpse of your nape.

Well, shit. What was it with people peeping down your neck these days?

“Nooo way! It really is a boy…” She squealed so loudly that all eyes in the room snapped to you. You frantically gestured for her to lower her voice, and thank god, she quickly piped down.

Fine, she’d caught you—but that didn’t mean your cover was blown, right? Any random guy could have left those marks. She had no reason to suspect you were sharing a bed with the King of Curses.

“Relax, your little secret’s safe with me,” she whispered, yanking you up from your chair with surprising strength. “But whoever he is, he’s clearly a beast. And you didn’t even tell me? I’m wounded.” A dramatic pout found her face and she clutched at her chest in offense.

For the briefest moment, her eyes softened as they drifted off. “So that’s why you’ve been acting so weird lately. Huh, figures…”

She said it so quietly, you felt the words were meant only for her—yet you were glad you caught them. There was something awfully relieving about knowing she could stop worrying about you, even if her assumption was worlds away from the truth…

You turned your head when Yuji jogged over, a lunchbox tucked under his arm, with Megumi trailing behind, hands buried deep in his pockets.

The four of you found a sun-warmed bench outside, settling in for lunch as a gentle breeze carried the scent of sweet blossoms across the courtyard. Your mind found a peculiar sort of peace as you bit into your sandwich—not true peace, but something close to it.

Maybe it was the way the sunlight dappled through the courtyard’s leaves, casting gentle shadows that danced across your skin. Or maybe it was the way Nobara’s laughter rang pure and clear again, unburdened by the weight of unspoken concerns, certain that there were no more secrets between you.

If only she knew.

Your gaze wandered to the training grounds, where hard-packed sand stretched out around the rust-colored gravel track. Beyond it, rows of trees formed a forest, casting shadows over patches of moss that mosaiced the ground. High grass and dense bushes offered perfect coverage—the kind one might need to summon a curse away from prying eyes.

Three o’clock. That’s when you’d have to do it.

The only challenge left was finding an excuse to create a moment alone in that forest during the training session.

You’d just have to improvise.

You took another bite of your sandwich and with your next blink, a wall of white suddenly blocked your vision. Confused, you blinked again, but still there—

A wall of white… fur?

Your eyes drifted upward, and—

“Hrkk—” The bite of sandwich caught in your throat as you found yourself staring into the dark eyes of a—

“No way… you’re Panda? The second year’s Panda?” The words tumbled out before you could catch them, manners forgotten in the face of absolute absurdity. But how could anyone blame you?

You’d heard whispers about ‘Panda’ here and there. He’d been mentioned during your training with the second years when he’d been absent, away on a mission. But you’d just assumed it was some kind of nickname, maybe for someone particularly big and cuddly, not an actual walking—

“Huh? What are you gawking at? Of course I’m Panda.” He scratched behind his black-furred ear with his massive paw, a playful smile puffing up his cheeks. “Seen any other panda-shaped students around the school grounds? You’re not the brightest, are you, new kid…”

A walking—and talking panda.

Okay, calm down—you’d seen stranger things these past couple of months.

In the background, your evident shock sent Nobara into a fit of hysterics. She doubled over, clutching her stomach as tears gathered at the corners of her eyes. “Oh god—your face—” she wheezed between laughs, until a sharp flick to the side of her head cut her laughter short.

“Ow!” Nobara yelped, rubbing the reddening spot as Maki materialized behind her, adjusting her glasses with a smirk. “Are you sure you should be laughing? As I recall, you screamed like a spooked chipmunk and hid behind Gojo-sensei when you first met Panda.”

A furious blush spread across Nobara’s cheeks. “I did not! That’s—”

Meanwhile, Inumaki had stepped out from behind Panda’s shadow, his collar pulled up over his nose and his purple eyes darting back and forth, silently witnessing the scene from a safe distance.

When your eyes met, he offered a gentle, “Kelp,” lifting his hand in a tentative wave.

You returned his greeting with a small wave of your own and a soft smile, grateful for his simple ‘hello’ in this circus of a meeting.

After a few more minutes of Nobara’s defensive yelps, Maki’s cutting retorts—she was a master at verbal sparring if you’d ever seen one—and Panda’s occasional rumbling laughter that shook the entire bench, Yuji finally seemed to process something from his perch atop the backrest.

His legs dangled loosely as he tilted his head. “Why are you guys here anyway? To watch our training session?”

Maki pushed her glasses up onto her head, the lenses catching the sunlight as she let out a sigh of irritated resignation—like she’d already known this would happen but was certainly still annoyed by it.

“Huh? Of course he didn’t tell you. That deadbeat idiot.” She clicked her tongue. “We’re not here to watch; we’re leading the training session.”

Your ears perked up, stomach dropping at this unexpected change of plans.

As if you weren’t stressed enough already.

“Wait, um,” you interjected, words coming out a bit too cold as you tried to keep the nerves from creeping into your voice. “Why isn’t Gojo leading? I thought—”

Maki cut in, a sharp edge to her smile that made you shrink back slightly. “What’s wrong? Think we second-years can’t handle teaching a few basics? Trust me, I’ve got plenty to show a rookie like you.”

That’s not exactly what you meant but—still desperate for an answer, you glanced at Panda, who caught your silent plea for clarification.

“Most of the teachers were called away on an emergency mission,” he explained, stretching his paws high in the air. “That’s why we’re filling in.”

The teachers got… called away?

Oh no. No, no, no.

The blood drained from your face as the implications of this new reality hit you.

With the first-grade curse you had to release, and if Mahito and Jogo decided to act up, to overstep their bounds… God, you weren’t even sure if Sukuna had kept his word. Maybe they’d orchestrated this whole ‘emergency mission’ themselves—leaving all of you defenseless, at their mercy.

You felt sick.

Yuji gently tugged at your sleeve, his bright eyes dimming with concern. “Hey, you alright? You look like you’ve seen a ghost… you sure that sandwich isn’t expired?” He eyed the half-eaten lunch in your trembling hands, but you couldn’t reply. Your eyes fixed on the faint outline of the whistle pressing against your thigh, knowing if you met anyone’s gaze right now, the truth would come spilling out like water from a broken dam.

It rose so high up your throat. You could only stare and swallow, swallow, swallow again until it stayed down—

You straightened your features and looked up, only to find everyone staring at you.

“I’m fine, sorry, maybe it is expired… I—”

You fell silent again.

Luckily Megumi noticed your unease and came to your rescue. He pulled his phone from his pocket. “It’s almost two,” he said, all eyes snapping to him instead.

“We should head to the training grounds.”

You thanked him with a tiny bow of your head for his quiet ability to read the room. He might not show it with his stoic exterior, but he was easily one of the most perceptive when it came to others’ feelings.

The tension dissolved as quickly as it had built, everyone falling into animated discussions about sparring pairs while you hung back, trying to steady your breaths.

Everyone except Yuji, who lingered beside you with that gentle smile of his, eyes curved into crescents as he gestured at your sandwich.

“Want me to throw that for you?”

You forced a kind smile in return and nodded.

It wasn’t like you could manage a bite with your nerves clamping your throat shut anyway.

At the training grounds, everyone quickly settled into pairs. And it didn’t take long to realize who they’d decided to pair with you.

Maki tossed the wooden bo staff your way, sending you stumbling into an awkward sidestep as you barely caught it. The confident smirk she wore left no doubt: she’d taken your earlier remark as a slight against her teaching skills, and she was absolutely going to make you pay for it—bad sandwich or not.

You tightened your grip on the weapon until your knuckles went white against the worn wood, but it hardly mattered—because Maki had already blurred into motion. One moment she was standing there, the next—there was a sharp thwack of wood on wood and your weapon went sailing across the training grounds.

“Too slow,” she commented from behind you as you jogged to retrieve your staff.

God she reminded you of that mercenary who nearly took you out—Toji, was it? The same lethal speed, the same complete void of cursed energy that rendered your technique useless. The same taunting smirk playing at her lips as she twirled her staff in lazy circles—a mirror image of him—both so damn confident in their ability to make you eat dirt.

And well, she did.

Again and again, she disarmed you—either the stick or your ass hitting the ground.

And each time you retrieved your weapon, your eyes were drawn to the big clock mounted on the wall across the field, its hands creeping closer to three despite your prayers to please let time slow.

You hadn’t even figured out a proper excuse to sneak off to those woods yet.

“Getting tired already?” Maki’s voice cut through your distraction and you sighed, turning to face her, bracing for another graceless defeat. But as you prepared for your stick to go sailing across the field for the umpteenth time… it hit you that—that might be exactly what you needed.

You loosened your grip just enough to ensure it would fling—far. Your eyes fixed on a spot near the treeline as you turned your back to it and took a few calculated steps backward, disguising your intent as defensive positioning.

You pretended to raise your guard and—this time, when Maki charged, you angled the stick ever so slightly, letting her momentum do the work.

The impact made the wooden weapon spin through the air in a perfect arc, disappearing far into the woods before landing in the undergrowth with a soft rustle.

“I’ll get it,” you called out, already jogging toward the forest’s edge, forcing a casual stride even though it felt more like a run for the gallows.

There was no backing out. Bound by the vow, your only option was to put your trust in Sukuna’s word:

Hell, even your little group of friends could exorcise it if they used their brains…

“You better be right, asshole,” you whispered under your breath as you pushed past the first row of bushes, each step carrying you deeper into the shadows.

The sounds of training grew muffled, replaced by the nervous chirping—no, screeching—of birds. It was as if they knew, somehow they knew, their calls a desperate plea against the wrongness about to unfold.

You stopped when the last remaining sounds of sparring finally faded away, leaving you alone with the knowledge of what you were about to do—what you had to do.

You knew you had to, but the metal felt like heavy lead as you guided the opening of the whistle toward your mouth. Your hand trembled—whether from fear or guilt, you couldn’t tell anymore.

You clenched your eyes shut, no use in delaying this, and drew in one last breath of innocence before your mouth found the whistle and you blew—

Birds shot from the trees in a startled exodus, their wings flapping frantically, fanning the dead leaves from the branches.

Then… silence. Not the peaceful kind, but the kind that comes before a storm.

Before everything goes to hell.

You tucked the whistle back into your pocket with trembling fingers, your body moving on its own as the sudden realization struck: you were alone in the woods, and that curse could appear at any moment.

Quickly you pushed your way back through the leaves and bushes, passing by your bo staff as your imagination conjured phantoms out of the shadows in the corner of your eye, until finally—mercifully—you burst through the last line of bushes, greeted by the warm glow of sunlight.

“Took you long enough,” Maki hissed, still waiting at the forest’s edge. You dropped your gaze, tracing idle circles in the earth with the staff—you couldn’t look her in the eyes, but since silence would be even more damning—

“Sorry,” you mumbled—sorry for what was about to happen, sorry for the chaos you were about to unleash.

“Guess your throw really sent it flying… You’re strong, Maki.”

You weren’t even sure why you felt the need to mention that, maybe to patch over your earlier comment which she’d mistook, maybe to reassure yourself that this group—your friends—could handle whatever was coming. Your eyes drifted up for a small hesitant peek across the training grounds, taking in the symphonic violence.

Yuji and Nobara moving like wind and thunder, Megumi’s shikigami locked in a waltz that challenged Panda’s brute force.

Inumaki stood at the sideline, a quiet sentinel…

Would it be okay?

The thought had barely formed when the ground began to tremble—not a gentle quiver, but a deep, primordial shudder that tilted the earth. Your careful circle dissolved as loose soil redistributed.

The sounds of combat came to an abrupt halt as everyone paused, glancing around to make sense of the situation and steadying themselves against the shuddering earth.

Nobara staggered, gripping Yuji’s arm for balance. “Huh?! An earthquake?” Her yelp of surprise carried over the field and to your side, where Maki stood unnervingly still.

Her gaze was sharp as a blade. And even though she couldn’t sense cursed energy, her instincts honed by years of combat knew exactly what this was… “No,” she muttered, knuckles whitening around her staff. “It’s not.” Her worried whisper morphed into a command as she swung her staff forward. “Everyone, brace yourselves. It’s a curse.”

Your throat tightened. She’s right. You knew because—you did this.

Right then, the ground erupted. Jagged fissures spiderwebbed outward, spewing scalding steam that blurred the air into a hellish haze. The heat grazed your arm—searing hot and blistering.

You choked back a cry of pain.

What the hell kind of curse was this? It couldn’t be… Jogo, could it?

“Everyone, watch out!” Megumi’s shout cut through the chaos. His Divine Dogs burst from the shadows, leaping forward to shield Panda and Inumaki beside him. But as they neared the fissures, they recoiled with pained yelps, their fur smoldering where the steam touched.

“Fuck, it’s hot!” Nobara snapped, frantically fanning her scorched skin. Yuji darted left and right, his sleeves already singed, fists twitching with the instinct to fight whatever was hurting his friends.

He was desperate to strike something—anything. And as if answering his unspoken call for vengeance, a guttural roar boomed from the depths.

Then, the scraping of claws tearing free from the ground as the curse emerged from underneath the earth, its body a pulsing mass of oozing abscesses. Each crater-like pore exhaling hot vapor, distorting the air with waves of suffocating heat.

You should have felt repulsed, yet the relief that it wasn’t any of Sukuna’s accomplices… That small comfort was enough to make your breath come easier.

Just your breath though—your body was frozen in place.

Maki, in contrast, wasted no time. She surged forward, staff raised and ready to strike. Yet she stopped just short, staggering back—glasses fogged, skin flushed red.

“The heat… it’s too much. It’ll burn you to a crisp if you get too close,” she hissed.

Nobara barked a laugh, “Like hell that’s gonna stop me!” She flicked a nail skyward, hitting it with her hammer in a perfect trajectory—until the projectile hit that wall of scorching air. The steel caught the light as it softened, twisted, then dripped into a molten puddle.

Megumi gritted his teeth as his hands flew into a sign, shadows forming around him.

“Nue!”

The owl-like shikigami erupted from the darkness, its wings crackling with cursed electricity as it climbed higher and higher, gathering power for a devastating dive—

But right as it pounced, jets of steam shot up like geysers, ruthlessly targeting the bird. Nue’s screech of pain hurt your ears as its feathers crumbled to ash. Megumi’s face contorted, sweat streaming down his temples as he dismissed his wounded familiar before it could suffer further damage.

You watched Yuji dart forward next, that familiar determined glint in his eyes—but even his raw strength meant nothing against the oppressive heat. He backpedaled with a hiss, forearms red and angry.

“Enough!” Maki’s voice was stern demanding everyone’s attention. “We need to regroup. Panda, find help—anyone. The rest of you, to me. Now!”

Panda nodded firmly. “On it! Try not to get barbecued while I’m gone!” He called over his shoulder, already breaking into a sprint that seemed way too fast for something his size.

As Panda disappeared into the distance, your group huddled together, narrowly avoiding the spider web of cracks that was spread across the earth.

The curse, despite its high grade, had a dense, lumpy form and trudged forward with agonizing slowness, dragging itself like a snail across the surface—gross, but at least it gave you some time to strategize.

Nobara stumbled into the circle first, brandishing her remaining nails. “These things are useless—they’re turning to soup before they even get close! That blob is damn strong…”

Yuji skidded in beside her, hand nursing his burned arm. “No luck on my side either… and for a curse to be poppin’ up outta nowhere like that, it feels off…”

Ouch.

Megumi joined last, his Divine Dogs pressing close to his legs with low, worried whines. “We’ll figure out why it’s here later. First, we need a plan. The steam acts as both an offense and defense—so… so direct hits are impossible.” His gaze shifted to where Inumaki stood silently observing, until something sparked in those dark eyes. “Unless…”

Maki followed his line of sight and caught his drift.

“Inumaki’s our only ranged option. A freeze command could temporarily halt the steam output. If that gives us even a small window…” She jabbed her staff—its tip now charred black—toward the curse.

“But it’s grade one. He’ll burn out fast,” Yuji interjected, his eyes drooping with concern.

Inumaki raised two fingers, then a third, before pointing deliberately at his throat.

“Two, maybe three commands before his throat gives out,” Megumi translated. “Not enough.”

The curse’s laughter bubbled up from behind. Through the heat haze, its crater-like pores flexed like dozens of mocking mouths—taunting you.

You had caused this, hadn’t you? Which meant you had to fix this—no matter what.

“I… I can extend his limit.”

Every head snapped toward you.

“My technique.” You flexed your fingers, still tender from earlier. “I don’t just siphon energy on contact. I can transfer it too. If I can drain some of the curse’s power in that window, then channel it back into Inumaki…”

Megumi raised an eyebrow, rubbing his chin as he contemplated the plan. “You’ve done this before? Transferred between people?”

“Once.”

A lie.

In truth, you’d only ever practiced with your dagger—a lifeless object imbued with cursed energy. But the principle couldn’t be that much different, could it?

Inumaki studied you with those perceptive violet eyes before tapping his throat and giving a single, decisive nod.

“Salmon.”

Maki’s staff struck the ground with finality. “We’ll need perfect timing. Inumaki’s freeze command will give us maybe ten seconds. We hit hard, then get out fast.” She turned to Yuji, who had perked up with renewed focus. “You’re our bait. Draw it into position so we can strike from its blind spots.”

A grin split his face as he threw up a thumbs-up. “Leave it to me!”

“First wave,” Megumi laid out, voice steady despite the tension. “Inumaki freezes it. Maki, I’ll pull you a proper weapon from my shadows—we take the left flank. Nobara, right side. Your nails should hold once the steam stops. Yuji—”

“Keep it real mad at me. Got it!”

“And you.” Maki’s eyes locked onto yours like lasers. “You have ten seconds to drain everything you can from behind. Inumaki will need every drop.”

You nodded, jaw set with determination. If this was how you could minimize the damage you’d unleashed… then you’d give it everything you had.

Megumi reached into the air where he pulled out a gleaming special grade cursed katana from his shadow inventory, passing it to Maki before pulling out a black-steeled Shadow sword for himself. His determined eyes reflected in its dark surface and when he looked back up, you all locked eyes for a heartbeat—no speech needed.

That was the starting sign.

Yuji darted forward, zigzagging between the steam vents like a pinball, smoke curling off his uniform as it caught a drift of heat here and there. “Hey ugly, over here!” he taunted.

“Bet you can’t catch me!” The curse’s gurgling roar confirmed its irritation, its bulbous form dragging itself to face him.

The rest of you used that precious moment to creep in as close as possible—to where the heat became almost unbearable.

Then one bark from Divine Dog Black signaled Inumaki, and—

“Freeze.”

Inumaki’s command caused a second of absolute silence—the curse’s bubbling pores frozen mid-exhale, the last remnants of steam rising up.

When that second passed, you all exploded into action.

Bridging the remaining distance with a sprint, you outstretched your hands all the way to the tips of your fingers as you sought contact with its putrid skin.

Your fingers sunk into the flesh—the smell so foul it made you gag—but you quickly pushed those senses aside, putting every ounce of your focus into absorbing as much cursed energy as possible.

To hell with cursed energy overload—you’d handled worse.

The taste of a first-grade’s power was much like Sukuna’s—strong, hot and viscous. But you gritted your teeth and drew it in anyway, ignoring the way your head began to swim.

From the left flank Maki struck first. Her sharp katana carved a clean gash in the curse’s side, followed by Megumi, his Shadow sword cutting deep as both dogs mauled at its legs. Nobara’s nails were functional at last, exploding with chunks of cursed flesh from the right flank. The impact of each hit reverberating through the monster like heavy shockwaves.

Finally, Yuji threw a punch at its stomach—a Black Flash in fact.

It lit up the battlefield, and you swore you could hear that familiar ring of reality warping in your ears.

The first twitches of its grotesque body were a warning signal to retreat, and you were all well outside the range of its steam when the curse broke free with an ear-splitting shriek.

You sprinted the final feet to Inumaki, who was trying to suppress the muffled coughs into his collar, and without hesitation pressed your palms to his chest. Focusing like you had with the dagger, you carefully channeled the stolen energy into him and—

Thank god, it worked.

His eyes widened at the surge of foreign power, and the coughing quickly ceased.

“Again!” Megumi called out when he noticed the transfer was successful.

Once more Yuji vaulted at the curse to catch its attention, while the rest of you snuck close.

“Freeze.”

The second wave proved even more devastating than the first. Yuji’s fist landing another Black Flash, Nobara’s nails penetrating even deeper, Maki and Megumi’s assault leaving ragged trenches in the curse’s skin. You drained more and more energy, your skin feeling like it might split from containing it all.

But you endured.

Second transfer. Third wave. The curse’s defenses were weakening, but so was your group. Sweat streaked every forehead, breaths came in ragged gasps, and the sluggish retreat left nearly everyone with superficial burns smoking off their limbs.

This time, you barely managed to transfer the energy to Inumaki. Your legs trembled violently, threatening to give out as you pressed your palms to his chest—half to transfer the energy, half to steady yourself.

“F-freeze,” he rasped.

The fourth attack was desperate. The strikes less precise—no more Black Flashes—just average punches—and the curse breaking free from the command faster as if it were adapting despite your desperate tries to drain it.

It was obviously weakened from the streak of attacks but so was your group.

So were you.

You stumbled back in a daze, unsure if the air was blurry from exhaustion or heat. Through the haze, you spotted Inumaki’s uniform and drifted that way on autopilot. As you neared you noticed the thick crimson droplets that spattered from his mouth between violent coughs.

You were barely out of range of the curse and the heat burnt your uniform into your back, but right as you stumbled Yuji caught you mid-collapse, slinging you over his shoulder as he rushed to Inumaki’s side to regroup.

The boy was in a very bad state. Worse than you were. Coughing up—no at this point vomiting blood as he collapsed to the ground.

“Inumaki!” Multiple voices cried out in alarm as the others rushed over. Yuji set you down beside him, your vision swimming.

“Shit. What do we do now?!” Nobara hissed.

You could taste the desperation in the air.

But then—footsteps. Heavy, running footsteps. Not the curse; it didn’t have feet. And the rest were here, so who? Your thoughts struggled to piece it together until—

“There they are!” Panda’s voice boomed across the field. Behind him, Shoko’s white coat fluttered as she sprinted forward, her face set in a calm yet urgent expression.

“He can’t fight anymore,” she assessed in seconds, already kneeling beside Inumaki.

Panda scratched his head awkwardly, clearly hating to pile bad news onto an already dire situation. “All the combat teachers were called away, so it’s up to us to finish this.”

“What’s the situation?” Shoko inquired.

Maki straightened, despite her obvious fatigue. “The curse is weakened, but without Inumaki’s command—”

“We’ll burn,” Megumi finished.

You looked at your friends—at Yuji's red arms, Nobara's blistered skin, Maki's scorched uniform, Megumi's exhausted shikigami with their fur burnt short.

Yet, despite it all, they stood unwavering at the side of their friend—

You yearned to be like them... to be someone good, not a filthy traitor—a monster's slave.

“We can take it,” you said quietly, then louder as you pushed yourself up: “We can push through. It’s weak enough now that... that the burns won’t be permanent. Right, Shoko-sensei?”

“You’re out of your damn mind—you can barely stand,” Nobara snapped, glaring at you like you’d lost your marbles.

To your surprise though, Shoko seemed to actually consider your suggestion. She nodded, not looking up from her patient.

“With immediate RCT, yes.”

An all-telling pause.

“But it’ll hurt like hell.”

Yuji, always desperate to keep the mood light in situations like these, gave Megumi a playful punch to his shoulder. “Hey, maybe we might be able to get a nice tan on that pale face of yours.”

“You’re all insane,” Panda rumbled, but he was already settling into a fighting stance, obviously planning to join your descent into the fiery pits of hell.

“I don’t see any other options. Let’s do it,” Maki added, gripping firm hold of her katana.

“Fine. But if my hair gets ruined, you’re paying for extensions, missy!” Nobara snapped as she helped pull you up.

You let out a small giggle at her words, the rush of adrenaline at what was to come kicking in and helping to steady your shaky legs.

“Deal.”

Everyone steeled themselves for the final charge, each silently battling their own nerves—fully aware that what awaited them would be far from pleasant.

Yuji cracked his scorched knuckles, Nobara’s thumb traced the blistered skin of her palm, her other hand compulsively smoothing singed strands of hair behind her ear. Megumi’s brows knotted together.

Panda and Maki took one last moment, kneeling by Inumaki.

You clenched your teeth, biting down hard until the copper taste of blood flooded your tongue. Then, with a synchronized push, Maki and Panda rose, stepping into place beside you.

“Let’s finish this.” Maki’s words were the signal—the final charge was set in motion.

A charge of pure determination. A mad rush through walls of steam.

It was like running straight through flames.

With every step, your skin blistered and split open further, nerves howling in agony as the searing heat tore through them. Every breath seared your lungs until breathing was simply not an option anymore.

Through tears of pain, you saw everyone pushing forward—Maki’s glasses cracking from the heat, Nobara guarding her precious face with hands that barely had skin left, Yuji’s uniform smoking, Megumi’s face contorted in agony as his shikigami howled and followed loyally, the white patches of Panda’s fur turning as black as the rest of him.

What followed wasn’t a battle—it was a slaughter.

A total outburst of rage, adrenaline, and pain that translated into a devastating combined attack from all sides.

Maki’s blade carving a molten arc through the steam like a meteor trail. Panda’s claws burning red as he wrestled the monstrosity into Maki’s next strike.

Nobara’s hammer swinging in a frenzy as her remaining nails hummed through the air—one hitting the curse’s weeping eye. Her grin turned feral as she detonated it with a raw-throated “Die!”

Yuji’s punches split open the curse’s belly. The stench of ozone clinging to his smoldering fists as he punched again, and again, knuckles grinding to bone.

Megumi’s shadow blade snarled, silent and feral like his Divine Dogs, ripping through flesh as effortlessly as their teeth.

And you—you dug your disintegrating fingers into its disintegrating core and drank every drop you could get to. All until there was nothing more left to drain.

The steam died first—a final hiss as the battlefield fell still. Then the curse itself folded inward, dissolving into a pool of black tar.

Then nothing but silence and the soft thump of bodies hitting the ground as everyone collapsed.

Through the haze of pain, you heard Shoko sigh... “Where’s that guy when you need him? I swear to god, Gojo, you should take better care of your students.”

Her footsteps were already approaching, hands glowing with cursed energy as she knelt down somewhere beside you.

You lay there, staring at the sky, every inch of your body screaming—but somehow, you were smiling. Because this pain? This was the pain of protecting your friends, not betraying them.

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

You must have passed out at some point because when consciousness returned, you found yourself on a bed in one of the school’s infirmary rooms. Through the window to your left, Jujutsu High’s grounds stretched into darkness—dawn long gone, leaving the courtyard bathed in pale moonlight.

The burns on your arms were wrapped in clean bandages. And though Shoko’s reverse cursed technique had dulled the worst of the pain, a sharp ache still throbbed beneath the dressings. Your entire body felt leaden, drained of energy to the point where even the thought of swinging your legs over the bed seemed impossible. So you let yourself sink deeper into the mattress, preserving what little strength remained for healing.

Your mind drifted to Sukuna. He was probably pissed that you hadn’t returned, but frankly, you didn’t care. You were pissed too—pissed that he’d forced you into this position, pissed about that convenient 'emergency mission' that had drawn away all the teachers.

What absolute bullshit.

He and his merry band of psychopaths had to be behind it.

You attempted to roll onto your side, seeking a more comfortable position, but the burns made every movement a harsh negotiation with pain.

And when you finally managed to settle, the door suddenly swung open.

Shoko entered in a cloud of antiseptic and unfiltered Camels, her lab coat sleeves crusted brown-red. Dark circles hung heavy under her eyes as she dropped into the chair beside your bed, gently lifting your arm to examine the bandages.

“They’ll heal,” she muttered around an unlit cigarette dangling from her lips. “Gonna take some more time though. Had to save energy for—” She caught herself with a sharp click of her tongue.

“For what?” The question scraped painfully past your smoke-damaged throat, and the red crust on her sleeves suddenly seemed all the more vivid. “Is everyone okay? Gojo-sensei?” Worry clawed at your chest.

“The guards at the cursed warehouse.” Her voice was flat, clinical. “The curse that attacked you was a diversion. Someone broke in and killed them all. Multiple special grade cursed objects were taken.”

Killed. The word refused to process properly, your brain short-circuiting as the reality sank in. You had more than burns on your hands now—this was blood.

Shoko sighed, rubbing her temples. “I tried, but... the corpses were completely mangled. Either grotesquely deformed or burned to ash. Nothing I could do.”

Deformed—Mahito’s signature. Burned—Jogo’s flames.

Mahito might have gone rogue, defied orders for the fun of it, but Jogo? You’d seen how loyal he was to Sukuna, thoroughly aware of the consequences of betrayal.

Which meant...

Sukuna had lied. Double-crossed you just to make you blow that whistle.

Nausea surged up your throat. You barely managed to point at the bucket beside the bed before Shoko thrust it into your hands, your stomach violently rejecting everything it contained.

“Major toll on your body,” she commented, rising from her chair. “Rest. You’ll feel better tomorrow.”

Between heaves, you managed to gasp out: “The others?”

A small, reassuring smile tugged at her lips. “Don’t worry about them. You’re a special lot, your group.” With that, she left, abandoning you to the mingled stench of vomit and betrayal.

Your betrayal. His betrayal.

It was funny how upset you were over his lies when you’d been weaving nothing but lies for weeks now.

But somehow, his one lie felt like it had tainted everything—every glance, every touch, every bruising kiss now felt poisoned by that betrayal. Each memory replayed in your mind with a sickening twist that made your stomach churn all over again.

And why did that betrayal cut deeper than knowing people had died? That their blood was partly on your hands? Your moral compass felt so warped you couldn’t find its true north anymore. But you knew exactly who had pulled it off course, degree by devastating degree.

A sudden drop in temperature made your still-heightened senses snap to attention.

A rustle outside, then a gentle tap against the glass, like a bird testing its beak against the window. But birds didn’t move with such deliberate purpose, didn’t make the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

The window frame creaked—the sound of claws scraping against wood as something worked at the latch from outside.

The faintest trace of his energy ghosted across your senses, detectable only because you’d grown intimately attuned to its particular flavor of malevolence...

Your muscles seized, torn between fight and flight—anger pulling you towards the former. But exhaustion had stripped you of both options.

As the window inched upward, you could only watch as a hand curled around the frame, tattooed wrist standing out against the pale wood. Then came the flash of pink hair, and finally—the last remnants of moonlight were blocked, cloaking the room in darkness except for those eyes.

Twin points of hellfire burning with such intensity that the shadows themselves seemed to recoil in fear. His broad shoulders filled the entire space as he sat ducked beneath the top frame.

The devil himself—here at Jujutsu High.

Once again come to claim you.

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

No Sukuna in this chapter, guys—sorry! 😫🙏 Had to push the plot forward a bit.

But don't worry, the next few chapters will be all about Sukuna and MC!! Hope you still enjoyed this one, and thanks so much for all your support again 🫶💕

Taglist: @sukunasthightattoos , @tomiokasecretlover , @6demonize6me6 , @blindbabycadder , @domainofmarie , @marcoschuitmaker , @geniejunn , @chanaaaannel , @nessca153 , @technicallysublimedemon

If you want to be added to the taglist, so you don't miss any updates, please let me know in the comments or with a private message. Thankyou!

#jujutsu kaisen #ryomen sukuna #sukuna #jjk fanfic #sukuna fanfic #jjk men x reader #ryomen x reader #sukuna x reader #jjk men x you #sukuna x oc #sukuna x you #jjk men x y/n #sukuna x y/n #ryomen sukuna x y/n #sukuna art #jjk art #enemies to lovers #slow burn

34 notes · View notes

mrs-snape5984 · 9 months ago

Text

“There is no other love, it's only yours…”

“You're all I want, all I love…” (“You’re all I want” by Cigarettes after Sex)

Yesterday I had a really rough day. It didn’t just feel like one of my regular “PEM-Crash-Days” (PEM = post-exertional malaise = the worsening of symptoms after crossing the boundaries of my condition, due to my disease ME/CFS). The whole day was also coated in a thick layer of sadness and grief…an emotional turmoil, which I could only barely endure. Well…mixing these feelings with another wave of fever and pain, seasoned with the incapacity of tolerating screen time, adding the suffocating sensation of loneliness….et voilà! The perfect recipe for a day in hell was created! 🙄

In order to cope with my emotions, I found myself drowning in my fantasies of teenage Severus and my undeniably self-inserted OC Jules…rewriting one of their short fictional scenes. Again, Severus was tormented by his own insecurities, getting carried away in self-loathing. I don’t know, how many times I’ve already written scenes like these. Jules encourages Severus to stay resilient, praising him for all those traits, which he only identifies as his flaws and weaknesses. But for Jules, there’s so much beauty, so much strength in his imperfections. She’s making his blemishes look like the most loveable attributes of Severus’ personality with her passionate speech.

When I wrote this little scene, I recognised something: I already knew, that I’m identifying myself a lot with Severus…but Jules’ words of encouragement and consolation to her beloved friend Sevy…well, they’re are also things, I would crave to hear for myself (how pathetic, huh?!). But since I’m struggling immensely with the acceptance of my own insecurities and fears, I’m not able to reassure myself of my own worth. It’s just not on the table for me!

So…I’ll just keep on telling Severus in my stories, that he deserves nothing less than the whole world…and that Jules will always try to make him feel loved and cared for. She will never stop to compare his flaws with her own weaknesses by explaining to him, how perfectly they’re matching. Jules will never grow tired to assure Severus, that his cynicism is the perfect complement to her sense of sarcasm. For the Slytherin girl, it's a clear sign for Sevy’s extremely high intellect, which is also something, that she adores about her friend. In Jules’ eyes, his bitterness mirrors a form of hypersensitivity, a characteristic, which she knows so well from herself. That’s why she’s acting so empathetically with Severus, whenever he’s suffering with his life…and Jules is convinced, that sharing those feelings will make them less unbearable! The girl even praises Severus’ stubbornness by telling him, that she’s enjoying every good and intelligent argument with him to clear the air between them. All together, Severus’ imperfections are pure perfection to the hopelessly devoted (and obviously love-struck 😅) girl.

I’m aware of the overdramatic nature and the unnecessary fluffiness of my short stories, but that’s the reason, why I’m writing them for my eyes only. It’s my form of a coping mechanism…the only way of allowing myself some kind of self-assurance and comfort…through Severus!

Some time ago, I found an artist here on tumblr, who made me fall head over heels for her tender style of drawing my beloved dungeon bat. Especially an artwork of her interpretation of the younger Snape made my heart ache with longing for him, so of course, I just had to commission @pssherri for an illustration of Severus and my OC Jules in their teenage years.

Sonja, you did an amazing job with this project and I can’t express, how grateful I am for your kindness and the dedication to your profession! It was a pleasure to cooperate with you on this idea of mine and I hope, you’ll be open to work on more of my requests some day. Thank you for everything, my dear!

🖤Severus & Julia🖤

🖤Sevy & Jules🖤

89 notes · View notes

wild-magic-oops · 3 months ago

Text

Gortash gets resurrected by god!Durge(Lucas) and god!Gale

Suffering Bane's punishment was excruciating, to say the least. It might've been a week, might've been a year, or ten. But it felt like eternity to Gortash. Pain like he had never felt before. The House of Hope was but a mere joke compared to it.

It had somehow become even worse for a time, when Bane had started losing a portion of his followers to a new god - one of Ambition. And oh, how the god of tyranny loathed losing control over his subjects. And if that hadn't meant more pain and suffering for Gortash, he would've relished in his master's displeasure. And how sweet it would've tasted on his tongue if it was tangible.

Gortash had loyally served for over two decades. He had paid his dues, had aided his god in his plans, had given his best, had succeeded where countless others had failed. And what was his reward for that? Pain and suffering because of an outcome he couldn't have even controlled in the first place.

Where once was worship and respect now was nothing but hatred. What a fool he had been, all the while thinking, or rather deluding himself, that it would've been Lucas suffering his own god's wrath eventually. But Lucas had broken free of Bhaal's chains and Gortash couldn't help but wonder what had happened to him. Did the Netherbrain kill him as well? He doubted he'd ever know. But how he wished he had tried to rekindle the flame between them, instead of sending Lucas to kill Orin to prove himself capable of being Gortash's equal again. But Gortash had seen the glimpse of affection between Lucas and the wizard in his group, and bitter irritation had spurned his decision further still.

And even before Lucas's disappearance and amnesia - what they had had never been defined, always diminished by their roles, by expectations, by their plans. Love was for fools and weaklings. They had enjoyed each other's companies and bodies, but never like true lovers. That would've been taking it too far. Gortash had been better at hiding his feelings. And now that he had nothing to lose, it was easy to admit them. Lucas had been less subtle, and eventually had misstepped too many times and it had cost him a hole in his brain. And that was that. Love missed for a plan that backfired so spectacularly into Gortash's face that he was still feeling the consequences.

At some point the pain had stopped and immense exhaustion had settled in instead. Gortash's very soul was still reeling from the torture. Like before, he couldn't tell how long he had been in this new place. It was a safe assumption that Bane had grown tired of him and banished him to the Fugue Plane. Or had been banished himself and all souls at his disposal were now godless.

Amid the exhaustion, he felt a warm touch, then a tight hug, after which it felt like he was being dunked into an ice-cold river, and he startled, sitting up. The rough stone was cold beneath his behind, and a shiver went through his whole naked body. The disorientation faded slowly, and the realization that he had been brought back to life settled in his still foggy mind. It took a moment to focus his eyes on the figure leaning over him.

Lucas. It was Lucas, grinning in obvious self-satisfaction. His shoulders and arms were bare, and so was a portion of his chest, the rest covered only by the crimson robe that he wore, matching the crimson of his hair almost perfectly. While it was a sight for sore eyes, what truly caught Gortash's attention were Lucas's eyes. There was... something different in them, something not quite human, or rather - not quite half-elvish. And while Lucas's gaze seemed warm on him, he couldn't shake the feeling of being lesser in his presence.

"It truly worked!" Lucas exclaimed, then looked to his right, on the other side of Gortash. Gortash followed the direction with his eyes. And it all made sense now. The feeling of slight inferiority. It was one of standing in front of gods. Bane had always exacerbated that feeling, of course. While Lucas and his wizard lover turned god were not trying, at least by the looks and feelings of it.

"As I assured you it would," the ex-wizard said, a small smirk playing on his silver lips, "Bane's hold on his domain has severely weakened after all."

"Which makes poaching his followers all the easier for you," Lucas said with amusement.

Oh, so that was the new god of ambition. Lucas's choice of a new lover made more sense to Gortash now. Lucas had always been drawn to power, to ambition. At the time Gortash had thought that that attraction would win in the end in his favour, with Lucas wanting more than to be his father's puppet and breaking free of his yoke, to instead rule with Gortash over their made-pretend worshippers. His prediction was partially correct. But it wasn't Gortash who had helped Lucas on that path to surpassing his role. And as much as Gortash had achieved in his life, offering Lucas true godhood would've never been something he was in the position to do. The feeling of inadequacy and inferiority could almost choke him.

"I see it more as his followers realizing that there is a more worthy deity to worship," the ex-wizard said matter-of-factly, "The ambitious ones, of course. The ones who wish to accomplish more and are willing to raise above their lessers."

Gortash would have to agree. That ideology had drawn him to Bane in the first place. And with a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach he realized why he was brought back. It was not out of affection. Lucas hadn't missed him so much as to bring him back purely because of that. No, he was brought back to serve. In what capacity he was yet to discover.

#galedurgetash #durgetash #durgegale #enver gortash #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #the dark urge #enver #durge #gale #galemance #bg3 #I said the last fic would be my last bg3 fic but this has been in my drafts for a long time so I thought I'd post it anyway #for the maybe 2 people max who are into this concept #lucas #my posts #my fics #if a miracle happens and I see people are interested in seeing more of this I'd continue it #but my main reason for not wanting to write for BG3 anymore is the lack of feedback and interaction

30 notes · View notes

borgialucrezia · 1 year ago

Text

the borgias truly went off in 2.10 'the confession'. specifically, where devastated rodrigo buries juan with his own hands, being intercut with everyone happy and celebrating lucrezia's betrothal, and being perfectly juxtaposed with dark and light. we get to see how rodrigo always saw juan while carrying his body (and that's probably how he sees all his children) as an innocent little kid instead of a broken soul. which was one of the most touching and well-crafted scenes that have ever aired on tv btw!! the whole sequence is also backed by a moving piece of tragic music that matches how guilty rodrigo feels about making the family hate juan by pressuring his inadequacy, making him full of misguided notions of defending the family's honor that led him to go wild. and setting him up to be envied by cesare. the murder made rodrigo reflect, and the viewers can tell that he has never told his eldest son that he sees himself when he looks at cesare, and that he has always held him in high regard but with a different dream and vision for him, despite cesare's wrong assumption that juan was rodrigo's favorite. and all because he always had a self-loath. to accept cesare as his favorite, he has to accept himself first. plus the cliffhanger? peak cinema imo.

#it's crazy how this episode and those sequences occupy my mind #cesare and juan are convinced that the other is somehow more favored and less deserving...#and each one is concerned that the others are getting something more and better....#and then there is rodrigo; a father who's sincerely and also misguidedly devoted to both his faith and his family #but he unintentionally fucked up his sons lives #rodrigo borgia #cesare borgia #juan borgia #the borgias meta #the borgias #text post

76 notes · View notes

savcir-faire · 5 months ago

Text

chihayafuru panels that made me cry - ch 153

i love this little moment because hyoro says "you only bother looking at those who are stronger than you" as a dig, out of pain, out of the loneliness wrought by taichi's absence, without the solidarity of having a rival who also struggled to reach the top tier, who also felt like his own efforts would never be enough.

and chihaya is affected by these words. she hates it about herself. she knows she can be singleminded ("selfish" in her own words) and her pursuit of strength blinds her to the needs and wants and feelings of the people around her. she believes it's why she lost her best friend. chihaya feels taichi's absence and echoes the things he did (reminding them to breathe, tapping them on the shoulder) to keep the team together, but ultimately hyoro's words confirm the narrative that she tells herself about why taichi left the club, left her, and because she believes it she acts with the understanding he will never return.

in the microcosm of this match, chihaya leans into the story hyoro tells her about herself because she believes it, too. and in giving into that narrative, she distances herself from her team.

in the mechanics of the match, she wins by such a large margin her words of support echo hollowly to her teammates who are still in their matches, losing. more interestingly, though, as her teammates lose their matches, they're also winning in the fight against the stories about themselves they've internalized over the months and years leading up to the qualifier. chihaya, on the other hand, has lost the fight against the story she tells about herself.

succumbing to that self-loathing story creates a rift mechanically and narratively between her--their captain--and her team. and when the team ultimately loses, it confirms the worst parts of her narrative and she's devastated, because she's telling herself she has to get to that place of unparalleled strength no matter what. she's telling herself that despite efforts to overcome her selfish disregard by acting like taichi, there's something inherent to her that is her team's undoing, she's alone, she's alone, she's alone.

and that's why i love this moment between hyoro and chihaya. because hyoro, who epitomizes the fight against his own self-loathing narrative, extends the grace of that power to chihaya, even though he didn't have to. he could have used the victory in the qualifier to gloat, to close the egoic wound of always being forgotten, dismissed, second best to the mizusawa a-team.

instead, the loneliness in him recognizes the loneliness in her and he recognizes in chihaya's selfish drive to reach the top a selfless drive for connection and helps her realize that in herself as well. because let's be so real, chihaya does not want to be strong just for strength's sake, chihaya plays karuta because she saw in arata and shinobu people who grew up feeling isolated and apart and utterly without a sense of self--like she did--except for karuta. chihaya seeks to be next to them, to connect, to let them know they're not alone, to prove to herself she's not alone either.

and when she stops telling herself that she's cold, she's dismissive, she's alone, when hyoro reminds her of her instinctual ability to care for others, her ability to draw people together, she remembers hyoro's presence in her karuta journey. realizes she's not forgotten him. realizes that they're struggling with the same loneliness. and regains her spirit while also fully acknowledging him as a rival in the sport that connects them.

uuguuhhhhgh im clawing at the walls of my enclosure suetsugu sensei why would you do this! how do you understand the things that need to be understood! how are you so perfectly attuned to love!!!!

#chihayafuru #txtit #ayase chihaya #truly is THAT GIRL #you can tell when art is a masterpiece bc of how intentional and layered it is #the character work is genius suetsugu sensei pls. PLS #and that's on the power of a reframe #and that's on remembering that people have multitudes #and actions have many motivations and words have many different meanings #and and and #im processing 🫨#taichi's influence too..... u kno u that bitch when u cause all this conversation

24 notes · View notes

joshusten · 1 year ago

Text

love the sinner (albus york/faith koria, bastard warrior || good boy audios)

Albus York takes a bath and Faithful washes his hair. (angst, slight argument, hurt/comfort)

2.2k+ words [ao3 link] [masterlist] [CW/notes: religious imagery ofc (this fic was basically an excuse to write that), typical albus york language, lots of self-loathing and some suicidal thoughts. albus is just having a bad time but hes also so whipped for faithful. speaking of her, i didnt make faith's physical descriptions vague or made it so that she's a "listener" but rather a character of her own! and i based it off of gba's description of her + my own interpretation hehe.]

once again THANK YOU SO SO MUCH to @slushiepizza for all the AMAZING suggestions and support like omfg i SWEAR i keep on saying this but this fic rlly wouldnt be finished without them!! i appreciate it sm!! and im shaking and kissing my irls that ive also bothered with this fic that will probably not see this THANK U SM!! edit: I FORGOT THE FUCKING READ MORE LMFAO

—

Albus York steadily sank into the half-filled tub of one of the ship’s quarters—stripped of his clothes, and left bare to no witness.

Gentle waves of the bathwater rippled against hardened, battle-torn skin. He dementedly mused that if he could go down further, he might finally drown.

He chuckled at the thought, shifted his position, and got to work. It's been a while since he last had an actual bath—way before he even agreed to this suicide mission of an adventure—with warm soapy water and scented products.

The constant near-death experiences and whatnot had interrupted the trio to get any time for themselves, much less to do any sort of basic hygiene. Since the route Devlin had charted for the ship to follow allowed for ample downtime, the Forgemaster had practically shoved his younger half-brother into the common bathroom and forced him to take a much-needed bath (Of course, not without a snobby comment about how his stench matched his personality perfectly well.)

Albus’ inexperience was made clearer with the stiff, awkward motion of his large, calloused hands as he attempted to wash himself. The unpracticed movement made the unfamiliarity of it all fully realized. How long has it been since he felt this safe? Does he even remember how to take care of himself?

Does someone like him even deserve this luxury?

The warrior submerged himself lower, down until his eyes were right above water level. He was thinking again. It was all that he had been doing for the past hour. If the gods wouldn't allow him to drown, then he hoped that the water would at least cleanse the grime and sin embedded into his flesh.

But he knew that filth clung to his skin like how a believer clings to the idea of repentance. No matter how hard—how desperately—he scrubbed (until pale skin turned into blood red, until rough turned rougher), it was all pointless. He had learned long ago that a bastard's prayers were never left answered.

The mark on his chest was a bleak reminder of that reality. Damnation was basically his birthright. Albus York was dead the moment he came out of his mother’s womb—dead to his family, dead to society.

Cursed to hell for being sin itself.

Life had a funny way to remind him—that goodness is something he can be in the presence of but never be a part of it.

"Albus?"

Speak of the devil, his ever-so-naive angel had arrived.

“Albus? Hello?”

Tender, serene, heavenly.

The voice was melodic—like the somber hymns he used to hear in his youth when his mother would take him into the temple and meet with her fellow brothers and sisters. At that time, he always felt drawn to the choir’s performance, despite not being old enough to understand the words (not that he was any more literate in the present). Back then, he was just a kid, blissfully unaware of the blasphemy he had committed for existing.

He had grown since then—in every aspect of the word.

"Albus! Are you still in there?"

A deep grunt, muffled slosh of water, and the pitter-patter of droplets on the tiled surface were all that Faith Koria had heard from the other side of the metal door before a familiar, gruff voice answered back.

"Calm ya tits, woman. I knew you were eager to see my dick but I never knew you were this eager!"

The outside replied with an annoyed groan, a sound Albus was all too familiar with, especially when it came from her. That being said, he couldn't fight the smile forming on his lips as he hastily dried himself up with a nearby towel.

"You've been using the bathroom for more than an hour, just what are you doing in there? Some people want to get cleaned up too, you know!”

The metal door swiftly slid open with a sudden 'woosh!', hot steam dissipating before the runaway nun to reveal Albus’ tall stature, half-naked and slightly dripping wet. Faith frantically averted her eyes on instinct, ears immediately burning with embarrassment. It wasn’t like it was her first time seeing him undressed—for gods’ sake, she treated his wounds like this when they first met! But to have him fresh out of a bath with his toned body exposed and his dampened long hair was—Wait! His hair!

"Alright, alright! I’m out, ya happy? I’m decent too so you don’t have to be a prude about it,” The bastard huffed, a little irritated with how his peaceful bath (or at least, as peaceful as it could be) was abruptly cut short.

“Albus, your hair!”

The man scrunched up his face in confusion. He gathered one of his dark locks and examined it with an intense focus. “Huh? Looks fine to me. What, you're not expecting me to be all prim and proper now, are you?”

“No, no, no! It's all matted and uneven!” The woman replied with a horrified concern in her voice that was rare for the warrior to hear directed at him.“It’s probably from all those monster attacks. Some of them must’ve managed to get to your hair! How long has it been like this? Does it hurt? Do you even have shampoo?”

“Uh…what’s that?”

“Ugh, never mind. Just—” Before Albus could process what was happening, Faith grabbed his arm with a surprisingly strong grip for a nun. She dragged him down near the bathtub he just got out of. He can even hear the water still slowly swirling down the drain.

“Faithful, what are you—”

“Stay right here. You got that, York? I’m just going to get something and I don't want you to move a muscle.”

A deep chuckle resonated within the man’s scarred chest—he always enjoyed it when she got this bossy. He gave her a mock salute and answered with a hearty “Yes, ma’am!”

The sister paladin made a face, letting out a flustered huff before hurrying to wherever she needed to be. So cute.

Albus had put on his clothes at this point while he waited (lest he risked Faithful suffering from a heart attack). A few minutes had passed by when she returned with a rather large pouch that Albus recognized was packed with the rest of her belongings. He deduced it must've been from her childhood with how worn down the embroidery was. Once vibrant floral patterns dulled from years of usage.

“Lean back by the bathtub,” Faith instructed. “I’m going to start detangling your hair. I might cut off some of the more unsalvageable parts too. If anything hurts or if I snagged on it too hard just let me know, okay?”

“Okay,” The man repeated simply, not really knowing how to react to all of the amount of consideration he was receiving. Abrasiveness was what he was more used to responding to, not the care that she unabashedly gave him.

She beamed brightly at his compliance (and no, his heart did not just skip a beat), soft hands found their way to his head and started brushing away the more manageable tangles before using a wide-tooth comb for the bigger ones. Despite the numerous warnings, her fingers were nowhere near to being rough. She was as gentle as a lamb—her slow brushstrokes eventually formed a rhythm that filled in the silence of the room. Albus decided to break the comfortable atmosphere.

“How are you so good with this shit?” He mumbled, voice heavy with drowsiness. Fuck, he felt like he could sleep until his next life. “Never knew sisters of Cindergorn get to be part-time hairdressers too.”

Even with his sluggish state, Albus could almost sense the nun’s eyes rolling above him, brushing out his hair with a slightly more forceful than usual tug.

“I'm the one usually taking care of the children at the temple. I’m used to seeing this kind of stuff whenever they play too hard. Obviously not on this level but you get the gist.” Faith snipped off the last of a particularly challenging knot.

“I've also been doing my own hair ever since I was a kid, so really, it's like second nature to me at this point,” she followed up, running her fingers through his hair with a satisfied nod.

Now that Albus thought about it, he had seen Faithful braiding herself earlier on their journey when they had just…tastefully borrowed the flagship meant for his father. He remembered swift, practiced hands twisting sections after sections of dark, coiled hair and had mentioned in passing how it was a hairstyle she often did to withstand the Eastern Faithlands' harsher seasons (Fortunately, it also turned out to be great for going-on-a-quest-to-kill-your-priest-brother-and-save-a-child seasons too.)

Faith’s hands suddenly paused. Before the man could ask if something was wrong, she signaled him to stay still while she rummaged through the pouch to get a small bottle. She squeezed a moderate amount of product into her palm and spread it evenly. As she was about to apply the substance to his head, Albus jerked away, quickly stopping her hand with his own as a furrow formed on his thick brows.

“Faithful,” He chuckled. “Please, I’m a warrior. You don’t need to waste your fancy shit on me. My hair’s going to get fucked up again eventually so what’s the point?”

Faith struggled to wriggle herself out of his grasp. “Wha–Albus, it’s fine!”

“No, Faithful, I’m serious. It’s just hair. Hell, it’s my hair. Relax.” The man sat up straighter at this point, the water from his long, damp hair trickling down along the scarred tissue of his back but it was the intensity in those familiar brown eyes that made him feel a chill.

“And I told you it’s fine just let me—”

“Why are you making it a big fuckin’ deal? What do you want from me?”

“What?” Faith’s voice cracked, appalled and confused. “Albus, what are you even talking about? I’m not asking for anything—”

“I’m just a bastard you hired to kill your brother! I was paid to do the dirty work for you, not to be your fucking toy—”

“Albus, wha—Y–You’re not a toy! Why do you—”

“If I’m not then why are you being like this to me? There’s a catch—there’s always a fucking catch. So what the fuck do you want from me?”

The nun managed to finally yank her hand away from his harsh grip and angrily slammed at the smooth surface of the tub.

“I just want you to stop being stubborn for once and let me do this for you!”

The silence that followed between them felt suffocating.

Faith’s breath hitched, shocked by her outburst. She immediately straightened up her posture only to look down shamefully at the tiled floor. A shaky sigh left her lips, and Albus was doing everything in his power to stop himself from reaching out to her, seeking salvation he knew she shouldn’t give him because he was not sorry that he was like this. He wasn’t afraid to show his filth to the world because it was all he knew to do—all he was taught to do. There’s no excuse, no justification, no escape. She’s everything good and he’s just scum or worse yet—he’s a bastard.

Because she’s an angel and he’s far worse than the devil.

“This isn't anything all that fancy…just something to keep it healthy and less stressful on your scalp. I just want you to feel okay. So please…” She trailed off. “Let me.”

“It’s…It’s just hair, Faithful. I’ll be okay, I’m a big boy,” Albus joked, but his words were sincere. He almost found the whole thing amusing—having the ever-so-snappy sister paladin fuss over him—if he didn’t get a feel for how much…his comfort seemed to mean a lot to her.

Faith pursed her lips, her gaze still fixed downward. “I just think…you deserve at least one good hair day.”

It's that word again. Deserve. Does she really think that? That he's worthy of all of this?

The man cleared his throat with a curt nod. Hesitantly, the nun's fingers slowly found their way back to the crown of his head, resuming whatever she was supposed to do. Steady, rhythmic brushstrokes filled the quiet once again.

After what felt like hours of stillness, the bastard dared himself to shift his head and face her timidly—as if he was afraid he could melt under her piercing gaze.

"Thank you, for…for this," Albus grunted. He hadn't only meant for his hair.

Faith graced him with a dimpled smile—the one that made her eyes squint and showed the tiniest bit of the gap between her front teeth. She proceeded to tuck away a stray lock behind his ear, trailing down to hover over his cheek. Albus can practically feel the nervous tremble on her fingers as if she were hesitating on something. It all came to nothing in the end, closing her hands in a fist before withdrawing to her pouch to start cleaning up.

“Anytime, Albus. Besides, with how you always manage to find yourself in trouble,” the sister murmured, her voice playful (it never failed to leave Albus’ mind racing). Her eyes glinted as they locked into his almost like clockwork. “How can I not?”

Albus York sat by the empty bathtub of the ship’s quarters—fully clothed yet he had felt the most bare that he had ever been in front of someone.

Faith smiled at him again and he swore he could make out the faintest halo crowning her head under the fluorescent bathroom light. ---- a/n: this is probably my most favorite fic that i wrote and i hope you enjoyed! lemme tell u this fic took way to long and got me so stressed for no reason idk ! i was worrying abt how this would happen in the timeline and all the lil details and then !! its a fic!! and im suppose to be having fun!! i am being self-indulgent!! (although i hope was able to characterize them well) again, feedback and comments r highly appreciated!! :DD have a good day/night and thank you for reading!!

#good boy audios #gba albus #albus york #gba bastard warrior #gba faithful #gba fanfic #THIS TOOK WAY TOO LOOOOOONG BUT ITS FINISHED see you guys next year /j

142 notes · View notes