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r4izx · 3 months

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Worth more than what you take me for.

ayato x gn!reader

summary: in which he had to choose between two people including you, in a life and death situation.

disclaimers: swearing (there's like one lol), kidnapping, ooc traveler.

4,032 words and 21,895 characters.

a/n: dayum. this took a while and i did not expect to write this much.

you've known ayato since childhood. your parents has been serving their clan for generations, being one of their most trusted allies. and you're no exception.

growing up with people with high authorities was such a privilege. you remember when you first met lord ayato and lady ayaka. they both were very the same yet so different. so elegant, disciplined and was well mature for their age. you felt some kind of barrier between you and the siblings but they turned out just as kind as they look. they were easy to converse with. naturally, after some time of serving them, you would have gotten closer. and in fact, you did. although you thought, you and ayato's relationship was... rather special.

for some reason, ayato treats you very differently compared to others. not in a bad way. he often calls you to his workplace, make you sit there and drink tea with him. he takes you out to go eat dinner at uyuu restaurant when you both have finished work. he requested you to be his personal assistant while ayaka had thoma. and because of this, you get to spend more time with him than anyone else. at the beginning, you always thought ayato would be a cold and strict person. but it turns out to be quite the opposite. okay- maybe he is more quiet and colder than others, but that's towards other people. especially to those he only has business with.

ayato is surprisingly different to what you originally thought. he would try to match your humor, often speaking informally like the way you would around your closest friends just to match with you. lately he's been spending his free time with you too. he noticed you liked tea a lot, much like him. so both of you had made it a habit to have tea at the estate's balcony while the sun is going down. watching the sunset together. it felt really romantic for you- but you quickly shook your head and remembered that to him- you're just his work partner. but is that really the case for him? because he was much more observant than you thought. especially about you. he notices any slight change in the mood with you. so there was a particular day when you were gloomy because of being so tired. but he noticed this immediately.

"Shall we take a break?"

-- and you don't know why but your heart skipped a beat when he said that. you thought it was funny-- how he would do all of this for you. and at times like these, you start to feel like a special person to him. just because he always relies on you compared to others. you thought you were special to him. until she came.

who is she? she looks so... bold and pretty. just one look at her and you can already tell she has a strong personality but has a gentle aura. her blonde hair swaying so glamorously in the wind. her otherworldly clothes making her stand out among people. the way she moves makes it embarrassing to stand beside her. she seems so... perfect in everyone's eyes. unfortunately, that includes ayato's. you don't remember having a guest in ayato's schedule when you were fixing it, so why's she here?

you found out the answer really quickly. everyone at the estate has been talking about her and... ayato lately. you don't know why though, which is weird- because as his assistant you should be the first to know about things regarding him. it's even weirder that ayato had not summoned you after work has ended. 'is this where our afternoon tea sessions end?' you thought to yourself. so you found it upon yourself to just be straightforward and ask others what's the gossip all about. luckily, there was another servant nearby. she quickly leaned closer to you and whispered.

"h-haven't you heard?... it seems that lord ayato had taken a liking to lady ayaka's guest."

you were surprised. really. it wasn't even his guest yet he bothered to entertain her. just who is she?

"who-... who is her lady's guest?" you nervously questioned.

"I heard it was... the traveler? was it? lord ayato visited her personally! they're just so perfect with eachother!- i can't help it." the servant squeals in excitement, contrary to your look in horror. you try not to make it obvious though. but you shouldn't even be feeling this way. why does it hurt? there's a sharp feeling on your chest that you just can't get out of. it just hurts to know the reason why he stopped your afternoon tea sessions, dinner hangouts, or just even talking with eachother is because of another girl! you were in no place to get frustrated since you were just a servant. nothing more, nothing less. to him.

you only see him through work now. the urge to invite him to a tea break and have a conversation with him while watching the sunset is getting stronger everyday. and who are you to resist?

"lord ayato... wou-" before you could even finish your sentence, he stopped you. your heart was beating so fast. 'oh no. did I do something wrong?' thoughts like these were circling through your mind.

"i told you to just call me 'ayato' y/n"

--and he chuckles a bit at the end. and so do you. you felt so... relieved. your worries instantly washed away. you felt at ease knowing that you are special to him. i mean- he doesn't do this with others does he?

"ah- my bad... but as I was saying, would you like to have some afternoon tea break with me? I mean, we used to do that everyday but it has been a while since we last did soo..."

and at this point you were so sure he wouldn't decline. he's been less busy this week, what could he possibly do that's far too important to even refu-

"my apologies, y/n. i've already scheduled a tea break with someone else this afternoon. maybe next time if i have the time. i promise i'll make it up to you. however, you could accompany us if you would like." and your mind. empty. the world seems like it stopped for you. not only was your only time to hang out with him gone but you were also replaced. all this time... he was with someone else. you had a gut feeling of who that someone else might be. but you couldn't hold a grudge, you have no right to.

"i-... i look forward to it." nope. you absolutely don't, look forward to it. that day will eventually come though. you just didn't expect it to come, three days later. how quick. you were filled with mixed of different emotions. you hate to admit it- but... you are jealous of who this person might be. but at the same time you're glad to just see ayato again! sadly, for work. when he summoned you, you thought-- 'oh is this finally it? will we finally hang out together again?' until you realize it's just that you will just accompany him to go to a somewhat date with someone else. compared to you and ayato just drinking tea at the estate's balcony, he had prepared so much as to have tea and snacks at the shore. alas, you could finally meet this person. once again. as you realize it was her. the traveler.

"traveler, did you wait long? i'm sorry, you could've ju..."

and their conversation went deaf on your ears. the ayato kamisato. speaking informally, and giving out tea invitations to the traveler. when it used to be you... why are you feeling like this? isn't it obvious. the traveler is way prettier, stronger and better than you. comparing yourself to the traveler is already such an embarrassing thing to do. no one could compare to her. she's out there defeating monsters and fighting archons. while you're here holding a grudge on a person who doesn't even know you just because you're jealous you were easily replaced. but who were you to be replaced when you weren't even his to begin with. this is why you feel guilty. because you think that you have no right to feel this way. it's just now that you realize how much of an overthinker you are. however your thoughts were cut short when you hear ayato calling out your name.

"y/n, i'll go to to the comfort room for a bit. please entertain the traveler while i'm away."

he says.

"understood." and so you take a seat at ayato's chair before. and despite not wanting to have a talk with the traveler, it is still your duty and you would not abandon it for just some mere feelings.

"greetings, i'm y/n. it's a pleasure to meet you traveler." you bow slightly and give the smile you usually show to guests. a smile you practiced countless of times infront of a mirror. "you might have not heard about me though. so allow me t-"

"oh i know. you're ayato's personal assistant. he mentioned it to me before." the traveler states. and you were genuinely shocked but also... curious.

"is that so?... then, has he said any other things about me before?" you nervously asked. though the nervously part may not be obvious to others. the traveler sees right through this. and she giggles. but nods. "would you mind serving me some tea? the tea ayato has been serving me is delicious however i've tasted it countless of times from our past tea parties. so I would like to have a different flavor this time."

the word 'countless' implies that they have been doing this for a while now and you already know that. but it still stirs a feeling of jealousy inside you.

"of course. luckily i brought a different tea flavor for myself as well. let me go get the ingredients from my bag." you return after brewing the tea and pouring it into the cups. how thoughtful that the traveler had already prepared the cups for you.

"this tastes a lot like lavender... melon." the traveler says.

"hm. because it is. you have a great sense of taste." you reply. from this point and so on, you don't really know what to talk about. the atmosphere is really awkward. but you still try to strike up a conversation because she is a guest.

"s-so... what brings you here to the kamisato estate?" you ask. in which the traveler replied with "originally, ayaka invited me. and ayato next." you don't know if it's just your eyes playing tricks on you or did the corner of her mouth raise upwards for a bit. you brush it off. maybe the grudge you have on her is going too far. i mean, it's not like you hate her though. but it's also not like you like her.

by now you've almost finished your tea. same goes for the traveler. you only had to endure a little bit more of this atmosphere and her because ayato should be back soon. so you lowered your guard and relaxed a bit. this whole time you only stared at your teacup, but it wouldn't hurt to take a glimpse at the traveler right? so slowly but hesitantly, you lift your eyes up to see her. already staring at you. but you couldn't break away from the eye contact. especially because she just asked you something you're also asking yourself.

"y/n. tell me. do you like ayato?"

despite having a smile on her face as she asked this, her tone was rather cold. it sent shivers down your spine. you don't know why she's asking this. but you also don't know the answer to that question.

...do you like ayato?

"I'm..."

that was the last thing you said before you went unconscious. before that, your vision went blurry and your head was getting dizzy. how could this be? all the years you've spent serving the kamisato clan, this has never happened.

a loud ringing on your ears forced you to wake up, you could hear numerous voices as you slowly opened your eyes. your vision was still blurry but you could figure out that someone was huge was standing before you.

"it's awake."

'it's? what do these people take me for'. --is what you would have thought when you realized you've been kidnapped and the kidnappers are a group of nobushis. you look at your surroundings, counting just how many they are until you finally notice someone beside you. the traveler. she's still unconscious. looking at her made you realize that you're also tied up and is unable to speak. screaming is no use. you seem to be in a... cave? you're not so sure because you don't remember a cave this huge at inazuma. you try to recall what happened and why you ended up here until you heard something a nobushi said.

"ya think he's coming here?"

"i heard he fancies these two. of course he will."

he? who's he? considering they kidnapped you and the traveler, don't tell me they're talking about him. not lord aya--

"oh well look who's here."

your eyes widen in shock when you turn to the direction they're facing. he's standing right there. ayato kamisato has come to save you. ...and the traveler. something moves beside you and you see the traveler, already awake, with tears in her eyes. isn't the traveler supposed to be strong and mighty? you don't understand, how were they able to kidnap her. in what situation was she in for her to become so vulnerable and be captured? i mean before all of this she was only with you-- !! your eyes widen. you saw ayato, ...glaring at you.

why was he glaring? you were in a pitiful situation right now, yet he glares at you as if you commited a crime. you can't believe it but... 'don't tell me thinks... i poisoned the traveler.' archons. he definitely thinks just that. the way his eyes softens as he looks to the girl beside you confirms so.

"give us the document. maybe we'll let both of them go." one of the nobushis spoke up. documents? what documents are they talking about? you handle all the documents for ayato, could it be he's been keeping something from you? are they comparing lives to a piece of document? surely ayato would-

"no. ...who sent you?" his voice cold as ice. the world has been surprising you a lot today. how important could that document be for it to be able to compare to a person's life. "straightforward i see... too bad, if you don't give us the documents any time we'll kill both of your precious little friends and this place will blow up soon." one of the nobushis spoke up again, it was the same guy as earlier. normally, ayato would be able to beat a few nobushis on his own. but he's way outnumbered right now. for some reason he knows that you and the traveler was taken here, yet he still came alone. you look beside you and see that the traveler is now crying. compared to the mighty traveler you seem to be too calm. you shouldn't be, in a situation like this. is it because ayato is now here? although he probably hates your guts already. but you just trust him way too much.

"...not giving in eh? then let's see..."

the nobushi paused for a moment, seemingly thinking about another way to make ayato give in and for them to gain something out of him. the nobushi smirked.

"...if you give us some mora... we'll let ya choose one of them to go with. give us the documents, you all can go home safe and sound. give us none and... you'll die with them." and finally, you felt... fear. your heart was racing. you didn't know it was this bad. earlier you already knew that you're this close to death's door but you weren't panicking at all. you also don't mind dying if it was for ayato. from an early age you already knew that you had to serve and protect their clan no matter what-- even if you have to pay the price of your own life. so why panic now? is it because the nobushis are going to far with their negotiations? is it because you're knocking right at death's door? or maybe it's because you're afraid that ayato will abandon you. choosing someone else, right infront of you in a critical situation like this. but surely he wouldn't, right?

" ...traveler," he throws a pouch of mora to the ground towards the nobushis. you remember when you both were strolling around at inazuma city after dinner. when he mentions that ever since he saw you looking through the stalls but not buying anything, he figured he'd buy them for you. so he always carried a pouch of mora. for you... and not for anyone el-

".. let's go." what? are you hearing things right? but judging by the way they pull the traveler and untie her, it seems that you are. but you wish you weren't. it turns out he really would choose someone else. the traveler lunges to embrace ayato. seeing ayato slowly hug her back, patting her back to calm down her tears and letting her cry on his shoulder just made your broken heart break even further. you get it. with the traveler's back facing you as they embrace, you take a glimpse of ayato until his gaze lands on you.

" ...y/n..."

his tone was somewhat... soft. you assume on a lot of things and right now you don't wanna expect but, you are. is this his last words to me? is he telling me he's sorry? is he gonna tell me how he regrets doing this? and that he never really wanted this to happen? and that i'm someone special to him, viewing me more than just a serv-

" --how dare you."

...and his gaze turns dark. what for? you didn't even do anything. his eyes glares at you as if you both were never friends. or maybe you were never really a friend to him. and he always thought of you as a mere servant. just like the rest. you were just- too naive. so foolish. thinking you were special. special just because he went looking for you and bought medicine and special rare tea in a day when you were sick for work. special cause he always invited you for tea breaks, conversing with you and only you. special because he always relies on you, and you allowed yourself to be relied on, --when you had no one to rely on for yourself. was those years of being with him nothing for him? was it that worthless in his eyes? that you could just be replaced and abandoned any time? you thought you were someone special in his life when he treated you differently compared to others.

but what about the way you treat him?

you treat him as if you were nothing without him. because he was everything to you. you were only this happy with him. only him. if you think of the most memorable memory you've ever had, it would include him. the day you first met him, and today. the last day you're seeing ayato. you watch them slowly turn their heels to leave. and all of a sudden you spoke. you couldn't help it, you spoke without even thinking. and now you don't know what to say. or maybe-- you just don't want to say it.

"a-ayato..." 'did you ever think if me as more than a friend?'... heck- more than a worker even. you wanted to ask just that. but you wouldn't. cause you couldn't. "...thank you, but I did nothing wrong." you say as you smile. that was your final words before the traveler and ayato takes more steps towards another path, probably leading to the exit. you hesitantly and slowly lift your eyes up to take one. last. look to ayato and... the traveler. and last time your eyes were playing tricks on you, but now you realize it wasn't. cause she was smirking again. smirking at you. leaving you to death.

anger. shame. resentment.

fury rises inside of you. you were raised to be patient with others. it was your job. so you've never felt this way for someone before. you wanted to scream but you couldn't. all you could think about was the traveler.

...the traveler!! the traveler!! the traveler.

it was all because of her that you're in a state like this. ever since she came, things changed. she was the person ayato replaced you with. the person he chose to spend the rest of his life with. and the reason why he threw away all of his memories with you and treated you like nothing. he chose a girl he just met instead of a childhood friend companion who has done nothing but pledge loyalty to him. now that you think about it... for ayato you would risk your life for him, die for him even. but he wouldn't do that for you. he only showed up for the traveler when you thought he came to save you.

it felt like your world was crumbling right before your eyes, watching them walk away, leaving you to death. you could mean that literally since anytime now you might be reduced to nothing but also... ayato is your world. to you he is everything. growing up with him, growing with him. he really is that special to you.

too bad,

he doesn't even see you as anything more than a servant. to him you were, not. special. at. all.

their footsteps has slowly faded away. they left. they've left you. behind, to die. it seems... this is it. you hear the nobushis chuckling and talking amongst eachother,

"geez... what a show! anyway.., are the preparations complete?"

"really? then we could go!"

"where did she say we would meet her again?"

"that bitch... making us do all of this. if it weren't for the mora then I wouldn't have agreed."

her? who's her? who's she? these thoughts seem all too familiar, and once again, you got your answer quickly.

"oh the traveler asked us to meet her at jinren island." a nobushi replied. just when you thought your hatred for her couldn't get any worse. however your thoughts were completely cut off when the nobushis all started leaving you. not even batting a single eye. you remembered them mentioning something that would leave you to ashes here. what was it again? if you recall quickly it was probably a-- "a bomb," --a nobushi says to you. as if he could read your mind. "a few minutes from now, once we all leave, this place will get wrecked. including... you." the nobushi laughs. you have never been this lonely before. i mean, you always had ayato beside you. but now that he personally left you for someone else- who do you have now? you have no answer for that. or maybe it is the answer. nothing. no one is there to help you. your reason to live is gone. atleast, you served your life's purpose before you die. you were never really that close to others including your family because of ayato. so you have nothing to lose now. but... you wish you could atleast take revenge on the traveler... even though you hate that idea. revenge isn't something you would even consider but.. the traveler is a different case.

today has given you particularly a lot of last things. like your last thoughts just now. before feeling a strong burst of energy and the brightest light you've ever seen. and everything turns dark.

...your eyes are closed and you can't move your body. but you're hearing something... footsteps? oh, a voice.

" ...how pitiful,"

you fall into deep sleep once again after feeling such an electrifying strike on your back.

... just who was that?

#genshin impact #genshin fanfic #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin x you #ayato x reader #ayato x you #ayato x y/n #kamisato ayato x reader #kamisato ayato x you #genshin angst #rai! ✍️#genshin one shot #genshin oneshots

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jimvasta · 1 year

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Humans and technology

You see, humans don't interact with the universe the way most other species do.

We thought they would be elegant as the Borath from the design of their vessels, thoughtful as Saalax from the care of their grreting broadcasts, calm as J'lanyua from the precise manner of their docking.

We were in for a shock. For all the collective order and discipline, there is a chaos inherent to individuals and should one succumb to it the chances they will take others with them are high.

We learned quickly to not underestimate these contradictory bipeds, but not before they shocked us rigid with their grasp of high technology.

They don't even have Dulchan drives but they stepped into one of the ancient platforms and immediately identified features we never discerned. The space platforms are thousands of rotations older than our space travels, the original builders are long gone and until the humans came we had to simply trust the computers would not fail and we would remain protected.

It took a lot of persuasion to let them near the computer cores, even when they begged to see them close up, but eventually we relented. What was the harm? No one understood them, no one could even unlock them.

They made many strange noises of appreciation, as most who see the ancient technology do. Their commander grew bored "Not a nerd like them," he grumbled, so we went back to the main habitation area.

A sleep cycle later, we ventured back to find the nerds.

"Well? Got any ideas?" The Commander asked.

"Ideas?" Charlie let out a shocking noise that made my feathers quiver, a laugh. "Spade's already got it running Doom."

#humans are space orcs #Doom #Doom will run on anything #space australia

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pomefioredove · 10 days

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Hiii! I adore your writings especially the vill fics thank you for blessing us vil fans 😭🙏💕

Can you please write soulmate au with vil and the perks of being soulmate with him? Thank youuu

thank you so much, that's so sweet!!! and OHHH soulmate.... so good

summary: soulmates type of post: fic characters: vil additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is not specified to be yuu, FLUFFY, lovesick vil forever

Vil Schoenheit had always deemed the existence of "soulmates" to be a thing confined in the lines of a poem.

Ever the rationalist, Vil hadn't even entertained the fantasy of meeting his "perfect match", if such a person even existed. His life was not that of a cheesy movie script he'd turn down.

Finding someone who could cope with his strict lifestyle would be a miracle in and of itself.

...And if you had asked Vil Schoenheit what his image of the perfect partner would be, he would say exactly that.

Someone beautiful, intelligent, responsible, with the dedication and discipline to keep up with him.

Spoken with a sardonic smile and honeyed words, Vil knew that his chances of actually finding someone to meet his standards, to keep up with him, were slim.

He couldn't have possibly imagined having to keep up with you, instead.

You were like a shooting star; swift and bright, moving faster than he could fathom, cutting through the dark parts of his life like a hot blade.

Something for him to wish on.

Beautiful.

Like nothing he could have ever imagined.

There was a radiance in everything you did, one that made your skin glow with or without products, a certain warmth that so contrasted the refined and elegant image he'd grown to associate with beauty.

Vil would eagerly tend to your every need. It was a dream just to touch you, to have the honor of pushing your hair out of your face.

He would savor every second of grazing your skin, of tracing your features with delicate fingertips, if only just to cleanse your pores after a long day.

With you, every simple action is beautiful.

Vil enjoys pampering people he cares for, and thus your life is full of high-end products, the best groceries money can buy, and his personal advice from the very second he sets eyes on you.

He would gladly do your personalized skincare routine with you every night and every morning if time allowed it.

2. Intelligent.

In such a way that makes him eager to understand you.

Really, it's your insatiable curiosity that draws him in.

He could spend hours upon hours simply listening to you talk. Your interests begin excite him just as much as they excite you, your passion for learning and creating capture his attention with ease.

There's never a dull moment between the two of you.

What others might consider useless conversations about trivial matters, Vil holds to the highest regard.

It comes to the point where he begins asking you for opinions, even if he knows he'll disagree with your answer, just to hear your perfect voice, just to watch your expression change in the way it does when you're thinking.

He's infatuated with your thought process, with the way your mind works.

Understanding you is not a labor, but a privilege.

3. Responsible.

To where all he could ask for is you and your gentle touch.

You care. Whether you're aware of it or not, you care so deeply about the people in your life, it almost puts Vil to shame.

Paired with your determination and resilience, and your ceaseless sense of independence, it's absolutely irresistible to him.

Vil is so unfamiliar with the way you treat him. Tenderly, and softly, like he's something that needs to be taken care of. You don't put him on a high shelf like a trophy, but carry him at your side, like a beloved doll.

He's never been at the receiving end of such consideration.

On the days where it feels as if the world is coming undone around him, he has somewhere to go. A place to hide, where he can forget all that he's supposed to be, and just simply be instead.

You are a home to him.

Vil knows that the both of you are perfectly capable (exemplary, even) at minding yourselves, though that's exactly what makes this tenderness you share all the better.

Independence is a gift, though one that he'll gladly set aside for a time, to be alone and soft with you.

4. Keeping Up.

Some days, it feels as if he's hanging onto you for dear life.

Afraid that if he looks away for even a moment, you'd vanish, leaving him alone with all of his naive, shallow thoughts on what his soulmate should be.

You're a dream to him. Far better than anything he ever could have asked for, or even imagined. He would be a fool to let you get away, he knows as much.

And perhaps he doesn't have the words to express it yet, perhaps he does. Perhaps these thoughts of his are tucked away in a journal, imbued in the lines of a poem, or in the color choices of a floral arrangement. Perhaps he whispers them to you in the early hours of the morning, still caught in that dreamlike space between sleep and wake.

One thing has become clear to him, though: Vil could never adequately describe all that he wants in a soulmate.

You're far too complex to put in a single sentence.

#twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #vil schoenheit x reader #queued

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miyaur · 1 year

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⟢ IF AND/OR WHEN ft. genshin men being single dads

・synopsis. his kid's teacher, who decided to stay with them 'till he came back from a late shift at his job, and to his surprise, the teacher was kind of cute. a kindergarten teacher, actually no, his kid's favorite teacher, man what would his kid think if you suddenly became their parent, but getting to know you a bit is.. well, it doesn't sound too bad.

・notes. thank you to that one post about ayato falling in love w his daughter's teacher, thank u sm, i got 7 wips in my drafts, thank you though guys im happy to write any ask you guys give me honestly!! day III: the voices are getting to me im contemplating whether i should write also ab how they fuck in the next room to their kid's room STOP. maybe another fic for another day... MAYBE day IV: i gave in im already start on writing ab it.

・warnings. suggestive, overall tooth-rotting fluff!, kinda places in modern au, they is usually reffered to the kid, reader is still gn!, oh also with a few scenarios bc how is it one of my writings without scenarios

a busy dad who got to see their kid after a small break, and finds you. — ayato, al haitham, gorou, diluc, childe/tartaglia, kaveh

・he just happened to be given a few days off, other than weekends, he could see his kid. even so by ordering the person who usually picks the kid up for them to not for a few days, because he would instead. as he arrived at the kindergarten, the dismissal area was definitely filled with kids of all kinds, running to their parents, he searched the room for his bundle of joy, just to see them with a special someone; you. he knows his kid was in good hands, as soon as he sees you helping them with an activity that was being done earlier, waiting for their parent to arrive, you look behind to see a well-dressed man, looking down to you and his kid. while you stand up to introduce yourself to him, all the kid could do was cling to their father's leg, finally getting to see him on any day but a weekend, and with their favorite teacher? they were more than happy! watching their 2 most favorite people get along was the best! not to mention the subtle blush on both your cheeks as you both talked, gives his number through "maybe my kid might need help later :)". as soon as he gets home and has dinner with his kid, you won't go away from his mind, the still picture of your smile after he made a joke the first meeting you both had, how could he concentrate on any work this week if that's what's really stuck on his mind.

dedicated dad to his kid: while picking up his giddy kid from kindergarten, he wonders why, and he sees a newly-hired teacher. a really cute one that is. — zhongli, kaeya, diluc, aether, gorou, thoma, childe/tartaglia, arataki itto, tighnari

・as his kid ran up to their father, almost attaching themselves onto him, he looked up to see the most jaw-dropping, ethereal, elegant, graceful, charming, beauty he's ever laid his eyes on trying to talk to him about his kid's amazing performance in class. honestly he's never seen his kid happier when you told them so, a perfect score in their quiz?! oh you're so proud of them!! even handing them their favorite chocolate/candy bar!! you were so breathtaking to him, and almost like another parent to his child, it made his heart bloom, what if you became his actual other parent, hey he's just thinking out loud... anyways, stroke a conversation with you, probably used a cheesy pickup line to get your number, plus points if you love funny guys (every1 does), experienced love at first sight immediately, thinks you are an amazing person for choosing your job as teaching too, must be quite hard too, his kid can be hard to discipline sometimes too, and multiply that by 20? damn, you must have a lot of patience. getting to talk to you and getting your number, on the same day? man this day must be a blessing from the archons! because it feels like he met the love of his life, and he truly did.

as his kid begged for him to go pick him up at school instead, he meets his kid's 2nd favorite person, you just might become his 2nd favorite too. — albedo, xiao, wanderer/scaramouche, cyno, al haitham

・not that he didn't wanna pick up his kid, but he was definitely busy, and that early morning that they had to go to school was when they wanted him to pick them up instead of the maids around the house. their reasoning was that other kids were making fun how their real dad doesn't wanna pick them up because 'he left', but they knew otherwise, a work-at-home dad yet somehow piled with paperwork and goes to work on weekends, it's like he isn't even trying to care for them, so to prove those bullies they were wrong, they wanted their dad to come, just even that one time. as he approached the kindergarten classroom, he peeked inside to see his child holding another adult's hand and telling them about what happened about their day while waiting for to come get them, he was by far the most fascinated with you, it's like you had bond almost stronger than he and his kid had, when he went to talk to you while picking up the kid, almost just sleeping in his arms, and decided to introduce himself to you, since the little chaos ensuer in his hands seemed to love you so much, and honestly you two had more in common than he thought, so much so he got your number, handing a coffee to you, saying "coffee date sometime if you're free, call me XXXX-XXX-XXX." on the sticky note, you ended calling him, and he was more than excited for your date, but he obviously wants to take it slow, and doesn't wanna rush anything between you two at all. is more than grateful that his little angel asked him to pick him up even just once.

responsibly affectionate dad — zhongli, diluc, childe/tartaglia, thoma, dainsleif

chaotic good & super thoughtful dad — arataki itto, venti, childe/tartaglia

lowkey motherlike (overly nurturing & affectionate) — mika, aether, kazuha, childe/tartaglia, diluc

can't cook so him and his kid have been living on eggs, hotdog, rice, and instant noodles for 2 weeks obviously not forever.. — arataki itto, kazuha, venti, heizou

24/7 teasing, but when you tease him back he gets blushy (the kid thinks its cheesy and will say ew) — heizou, childe/tartaglia, kaeya, scaramouche/wanderer, cyno

you guys kiss when he goes to pick you both up from the school bc afterwards you have nothing to do cuz ur a kindergarten teacher (whipee!!), kid will cover her eyes, goodnight thanks 4 listening to my ted talk

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shibaraki · 8 months

Text

PAS DE DEUX ┊ GOJO SATORU

tags: GN reader, no curse au (ballet), principal dancer gojo, reader is a photographer for his ballet company, fluff, flirting + casual touch, barre exercising, getting together, first kisses

wc: 2.4K

Gojo Satoru is just a man.

Albeit a coveted man, able to do anything on stage exactly as he would in rehearsal. High arabesques and tight pirouettes. Otherworldly form. Broad hands able to memorise another’s centre of gravity within the first twenty seconds. Swan-like and slender. All agile limbs, a body brazen with self-assurance and packed with strength, reflected in how effortlessly he can catch, spin, and dip his partners. Low, on perfect pointe.

A beautiful, talented, annoying man. That which has chosen to breathe down your neck as you fiddle with your camera, rather than occupy any other corner of the large studio.

“You’re distracting me, Satoru”.

“How am I distracting?” he asked, inclining his head. You gave him a look, and emphatically motioned at him from head to toe. Satoru cracks a grin, those piercing blue eyes gleaming, “By existing?”

“No, because you're all up in my space. I’ll show you the pictures in a second so back up,” you snap, your hand fluttering dismissively at him. “And put a shirt on!”

A low, vibrating hum, and a smile that holds a sincere gentleness to it that you wouldn’t have expected to find. He looks almost boyish. You turn from it and feel his presence move away like the sun being blocked out, steady warmth then the absence of it.

He does not put his shirt on. Instead Satoru takes position at the barre and walks his fingers along the top. Dawn filtered in through the small windows, casting a spotlight onto every dip and curve. You resolutely do not look at that narrow waist, nor how closely his tights clung to his hips, his thighs. Pulled over his soft soled slippers are a pair of grey stirrup leg warmers, bunched around his calves. He’s—

You draw a sharp inhale and refocus on the LCD screen, the neckstrap suddenly uncomfortably heavy.

Satoru is a bit older than most of the other dancers you photograph but no more mature for it. Granted he’s gentler in his discipline, more experienced, and always less eager for the practice to be over. He liked the day to drag on and on, especially if someone was watching him.

People said he was arrogant. Maybe that was a little true and with good reason. But your lense saw through the veneer that Satoru wore. Session after session, through rehearsals and classes and auditions, you saw pride for his craft, and how deeply he loved imbuing that love into his juniors.

You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of saying so, but watching him dance felt transcendent. Whoever the pair, he made every pas de deux seem seamless, like two halves of the same entity coming together. Solo he was in a league of his own. Sometimes he danced as if he loved beyond the scope of his skin. Sometimes he danced as if the whole world had betrayed him.

“How’d I do this time?” you hear him ask in that very cavalier way that betrayed his interest immediately, becoming antsy in your prolonged silence. “Pretty good, right?”

Today you managed to shoot him demonstrating a particularly heartbreaking variation of a grand jeté. He reached the peak and fell so gracefully that you’d felt the whole room hold its breath. Another beep and the camera screen flickers to that very photo. Right leg stretched anterior, his left posterior to his body, evenly split into a horizon as he soared through the air. Rather than poise to mimic an elegant wingspan he had curved an arm into an arc over his face, almost as if in anguish, while the other draped behind him.

“Why ask if you already know?” you deflected, switching to the next photograph. “You definitely have a flair for the dramatic”.

“Maybe I want to hear it from your mouth,” you can hear the layered petulance behind his words. It makes you restless to think your praise could hold any significance to him. “Tense today, aren’t we? You should do some barre exercises with me. Loosen you up a little,” he continues, clicking his tongue. “I could even teach you some steps”.

You snort lightly, “That’s a ridiculous idea”.

“I don’t think so,” Satoru disagrees, a contemplative tone to his voice. Intensity returns to his gaze as it roams over your form. “You’re the only person in the company I haven’t danced with yet. Can you blame me?”

“It wouldn’t be dancing, Satoru. You know I can’t dance,” you insist, or so you think, the weak response barely audible over the heartbeat flooding your ears. “I’d look like a fucked up marionette”.

A hand crosses your line of sight. You hadn’t even noticed his approach. Satoru plucks the camera from your slackened grasp and slips the neckstrap over your head in one swift movement. “Then let me pull your strings,” he teases, proffering his open palm. Your throat grows dry.

“That was awful,” you tell him, clutching to whatever dignity you have left. Then you take it. Long fingers enclose over your knuckles and he smiles.

Sometimes when you want something you’ll take it in whatever manner the universe is willing to give it.

“Ha. Worked though”.

As mercy would have it, Satoru guides you as he would a beginner. You’ve lived and worked amongst dancers for years. Your mind is familiar with the lifestyle, the lingo and the routine, but your muscles are not. “Another rep. Heels together with your toes turned out—that’s it, bend slightly,” your pulse rockets at the light touch to your hip, firm yet gentle in encouraging you to bend. The room is much hotter than you recall. “Place one foot in front of you. Point. Now sweep it around to the back in a C-shape,” warmth lingers where his fingertips had been as he steps back. “Point your feet,” he says, his lips suddenly close to your ear.

“What—?”

“As you circle,” Satoru repeats. “Point your feet.” You exhale and repeat. “Hm. Good at taking instructions, aren’t you?”

“I’m going to kill you,” comes your shaky response, already feeling clammy. It doesn’t escape you that he still hasn’t put a shirt on. Your inner thigh muscles are burning. Satoru laughs and the irritation ebbs away because he sounds happy. Giddy, even.

“This one will open your hips nicely,” Satoru finds your waist again and pivots you to face the barre. His body heat seeps through your t-shirt where he’s pressed against your back. Hands slide beneath your arms and down to your wrists, delicately placing them atop the barre. “Keep taking deep breaths for me. Bend your knees—hold,” the ache forces your eyes shut for the five seconds he keeps you inert, plunged into fleeting darkness with just his low, honeyed voice to guide you.

This really was a terrible idea.

“Rise to plié,” Satoru murmurs. “Up into demi-pointe. There you are, now hold again”.

Shadows pool into the studio space as the evening draws on. You’re rendered a sticky mess, and not in the manner you’d have liked. Wondrously, and despite the soreness that will no doubt wear in tomorrow, you had begun to feel you were working with your body and not against it.

Satoru had barely broken a sweat. You take comfort in the splotchy flush covering his cheeks and how his chest rises and falls, both signs of exertion. Equally as distracting. “You’re almost a natural,” he says, running a hand through his silky white hair.

Unsteady on your feet, you roll your eyes skyward while the burning in your lungs dwindles. “Sure. We’ll be onto our own pas de deux in no time,” you joke offhandedly. But Satoru’s expression wanes into something like longing in your periphery. Fondness, and then to amusement.

“Maybe not. Your pointe needs work,” he says.

“Well excuse me, big shot. I’m not even wearing the right shoes—”

“Want to try some lifts?”

A stone of dread drops into your stomach. The barre digs into your lower back as you lean against the wall, “We do some—some routine warmups and you think I’m ready for partnered lifts?!”

Satoru’s voice remains steady but his lips are starting to purse as he mirrors your posture, “I can take your weight”.

You didn’t doubt it. Satoru’s ability appeared to defy physics all together and that translated well with his counterparts too, whoever they may be. You’ve seen him lift people of every different shape and weight. Each one would become weightless in his embrace.

“No. No lifts,” you tell him, trying for a cadence that inspired authority. Satoru arched his brow and you got the sense that to him you were akin to a small disgruntled cat. Whether it’s the fatigue that lowers your inhibitions or plain pettiness, you hear yourself say, “I think you just want an excuse to touch me more”.

A pulse of magnetised desire rippled through the atmosphere. You don’t miss the way his breathing hitched, or how the hand absently rubbing the back of his neck stilled only for a moment before falling to his hip. Satoru swallows. Your eyes follow how his thumb strums the waistband of his tights—tights that leave very little to the imagination.

Anticipation prickles through your belly when he takes a step forward, then another, until his nose bumps your own. “You’re not supposed to say the quiet part out loud,” he murmurs, a little breathless. It ghosts across your lips. There’s trepidation in his gaze, searching your expression for rejection or discomfort, neither of which he will find.

You are reminded again that for all his apparent confidence and talent, Gojo Satoru was still very much human.

Your hands lingered in the narrow space between your bodies. Restlessly clenching, uncurling. Not knowing where to put them. The bare skin of his abdomen brushes your knuckles. “Satoru,” you begin.

He hums, palms coming to rest on your hips. He leans into you, emboldened by the invocation of his name, and echoes yours back.

“Did you seriously…” your thoughts drift as he dips lower, lingering. The blood rushes to your head. You could easily tip your head, align your mouths, and bring him into a kiss. Somehow the simplicity of that makes this whole charade even more laughable. “Don’t tell me you made me do a workout instead of just asking me on a date like a normal person”.

The response registers visibly on his face. He blinks, delicate pale lashes fanning over his cheeks, and in the next breath he’s lighting up, eyes first, glittering urainian blue. “That was hardly a workout,” he says, warmth bleeding into his voice. “It was a warmup”.

“Warmup my ass”.

“Can, if you want”.

Laughing, you cradle his jaw and say, “Stop being annoying and kiss me”.

Satoru’s hands have slipped beneath your shirt. He squeezes, smiles at the feel of soft flesh yielding under his thumbs, “Alright”.

Always has to have the last word, you think amusedly. Satoru pressed impossibly close. The barre has since become numb where it prods at your back. Your lips part as he tilts and your mouths brush, want knotted deep in your belly. It is slow at first, hesitant. But every movement of Satoru’s lips turns into sweet affirmation. Quick, then long, then greedy.

You wrap your arms around his neck and feel him shudder as you suck gently at his plush bottom lip. He paws at you with more fervour, languidly licking into your mouth. Soft wet sounds reach your ears and a contented hum reverberates through your skin that you can’t help returning. You feel his lips stretch thin into a smirk.

When you eventually part for breath your chest is pounding. He watches you closely. Half lidded and entirely too pleased. Something about the certainty and satisfaction stunned you then. Coloured the world around you in roseate. “You really do like me, don’t you?”

Satoru doesn’t falter. Quiet and deeply amused, he replies, “What gave it away? The constant pestering, the always staying behind after hours, the never wearing a shirt, the—?”

“Okay, okay. I get it,” you sighed, smoothing your palms down his bare chest simply because you can. “…I like you too, you know”.

“Yeah?”

You hummed. “What gave it away? The constant pestering?” you kissing the corner of his mouth, “The always staying after hours?” and then his cheek.

Satoru turns quickly to chase as you recline, nipping at your mouth. “Point taken,” he rumbles, pinching at the fabric of your shirt and lightly tugging it. “Pattern dictates this should go, next”.

“You know we need to lock up. If I let you start we’ll never stop,” you laughed, wriggling out from his embrace. The studio will be shrouded in complete darkness soon, and now you both need to shower. Satoru reluctantly lets you go, trailing after you as you collect your camera and pass it between your hands.

The screen flickers on, back to that incredible grand jeté. Satoru hooks his chin over your shoulder. “You really do photograph beautifully,” you think aloud. His jaw shifts and you can tell he’s smiling. “What were you thinking about, when you jumped?”

Satoru sniffed, not even pretending to think of something profound. “Mochi stuffed with whipped cream and zunda”.

You sigh fondly, eyes falling closed. Beautiful, talented, annoying man indeed.

#jjk x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader

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tadpolesonalgae · 3 months

Text

Can’t Bring Myself To Hate You - Part 13

Azriel x Third-Oldest-Archeron-Sibling!Reader

a/n: team long-hair Eris or team short-hair?

word count: 6,921

-Part 12- -Part 14-

——————————————————————————————————————————————

“Eris,” you groan weakly, staring at the plate of food set before you.

“Have you made any progress?” He asks absently, not even bothering to look up.

“It’s been three days,” you say, staring at him as you lean back in your seat, head tipping back to try and distract from the rich scent that’s taunting you. “I’ll take that as a no.”

Your eyes squeeze shut, stomach cramping with hunger as you try to think of something other than food. It’s been so long since you’ve had to consciously draw your attention away from starvation, you’re lacking the discipline. Before, it would have been a case of chopping wood, or counting the grains on different floorboards, but now your focus darts about like a crazed sparrow.

For three days he’s withheld food. Three days he’s set you down with a meal. Three days of being instructed to summon something—a spark, of some kind—and you can eat. A day of boredom, a day of listlessness, and now a day filled with ravenous hunger. Again, your stomach rumbles, carving aches through muscle, teeth gritting together.

The room is large—cavernous. A tall window is to your far right, Eris sat at a large desk before it while his pen scratches away on parchment. The great four-poster bed is at your back, with you sat glumly atop the chest at its foot, staring at the plate laden with simple but lovely food. Not even fully out of reach, but entirely off limits. Instead, you attempt to peer beyond, gold and amber flame flickering wildly within the fireplace, burning free of logs, sustained entirely by his magic, constantly chipping away at the steady accumulation of strain so as to keep himself intact.

“How am I supposed to do anything if I don’t have fuel to feed off?” You ask absently, enraptured by the wicked dance of the fire, mind beginning to buzz dully, eyes losing focus. “Show a spark of magic, and you can eat until you’re full,” he replies, glancing at another sheet of paper before redirecting his attention. “This is torture,” you mutter, managing to shoot him a glare, unwilling to shift your body too much in case the aches spear up into your ribs. “What a wonderful life you’ve had,” he murmurs, before neatly scrawling something on a spare sheet. You deepen the intensity of the glare, wishing to cast a tiny spark of his own flame against the stacks of dry, crisp paper.

His pen comes to a halt, and he looks up, peering at a clock on the wall—midday. Perfectly on schedule, he sets the paper to the side, standing fluidly from his desk before reaching for the outer layer he’d discarded on the back of his seat, pulling it on over the width of his shoulders, pulling his hair from between the back of the clothing and his spine. Hair as smooth as silk, coming to his waist, burning like the flames he commands. Your eyes drag back to the fire, heavy and tired.

“Up,” he instructs, walking briskly across the floor, boots lightly scuffing against the boards in sharp, elegant steps. Wearily, you clamber to your feet, following behind him as he leads you on the trip that will take the two of you to the crisp air of the outdoors, appearing not entirely opposite from a jewel-toned painting. A sharp, brutal kind of beauty. Today, it’s all you can do to keep up with him, quietened from hunger, tired from starvation as you walk at his side, entering into the dense forest that surrounds the palace.

“What’s the point of this?” You ask quietly, watching as you take step after step, lightly frosted leaves crumpling beneath your feet. “That’s up to you,” he replies, leading you deeper into the woods, taking a different route from the stroll he’s chosen the past two. “So there isn’t one,” you mutter, shifting as you usually do to walk behind him, simply following the trail of footsteps, one after the other. “If you spent half the time you do sulking actually putting your mind to training, you’d have found something by now,” he returns, keeping up the pace. “So inspiring,” you mumble, wishing to lie down, but the cold bites at your throat with every breath, so you push on.

“What are you here for?” He asks sharply, your ears twitching from the ice in his tone. “You tell me,” you mutter, “you’re the one who’s supposed to know everything, after all.”

“Not quite everything,” he replies wryly, and you can practically imagine the sharpness to his mouth. “You’re here because you wanted to learn how to control your magic.”

“You’re starving me,” you reply, with a little more bite than is appropriate.

You lift your head, staring tiny needles between his broad shoulders, hair soft as silk as it breezes in the wind, matching the fiery ambers and citrine yellows of the brutal landscape, moss like emeralds clinging to the bark of the trees. The forest is so thick you can’t make out its end, and you wonder how deep the trail is going to go before circling back to the palace. You don’t like forests. All manner of things could lurk inside, no longer restricted to wild deer or rabid wolves.

“Funny, that,” he says quietly, a whispered hiss slicing beneath the edge of his words, hairs rising at the back of your neck. “I’m certain you’ve figured the kitchens are nearby, yet you haven’t so much as taken a single step toward them.” A twig snaps in the distance and your skin prickles into gooseflesh. “Nor have you even attempted to pick at the meals you’re given,” he remarks, ignoring the strange sounds in the distance, pulling you deeper into the density of the enchanted forest. “What’s your point?” You ask warily, the back of your neck beginning to itch, feeling an invisible weight licking up your body. Your eyes dart between the trees, but there’s nothing there. Even the noise of other life has dwindled to a stop, you realise, as if trapping you in a great glass bubble.

“You say you’re starving, yet seem content to remain that way,” he murmurs, absently, moving on silent feet. It’s mildly unsettling how he can move with such stealth. “What are you suggesting? That I just eat the food and lose any sort of motivation to find something?” You reply quietly, subconsciously having lowered your voice to whisper, to avoid being heard. By Something.

“If you understand why your food is being withheld, why are you complaining so frequently?” He murmurs back, the wind dying out, hair resting stilly at his back. “I don’t know if you’ve ever lived in poverty, Eris,” you whisper sharply, “but starvation isn’t an enjoyable pain.”

“An unenjoyable pain suggests the existence of pleasurable pain,” he replies, paces slowing as he peers around the wood. “No wonder you favour the Shadowsinger.”

“What are you talking about?” You sigh exasperatedly, marking a triptych of claw marks on a nearby tree.

But he’s come to a stop, turning preternaturally still, as if frozen in time. So still, he looks like a painting. You wonder briefly how Feyre would choose to render him. You doubt she’d want to paint him at all.

Silence falls thick and heavy. Tension crawling through tendons, threading its way tight through your skeleton, until you’re strung taut, poised to smash like ceramic upon concrete. “Eris?” You whisper, not even a breath, syllables contained within the space of a blink. “What’s happening?” You move to take a step forward, but he holds his hand up, attention remaining forward, piercing into something you’re unable to see, or even smell. Whatever it is, is utterly undetectable to your senses.

And by the moment you can pick it out, it’s already too late.

Hundreds of pounds of weight and muscle slam into you, sending you careening across the ground, the very earth trembling as paws thunder forward, a single arm larger than your whole body. Rock cracks against your spine, and the air is shoved from your lungs. Lips part on ghostly breaths, air rattling in and out as your nails split beneath the pressure of biting into rough stone. Paws shake the ground either side of you, large, ivory tusks curling around a blunt snout, snorting and huffing hot breath in moist tendrils.

Sweat beads on your brow, wide eyes locking with wild aggression, a bellowing roar whipping the hair away from your face with the force of its fury. The beast rears, pushing up onto its hind legs, front paws peddling forward in the air, watery sunlight glinting off steel-like claws, poised to shred down on you.

Hands rise without a second thought, as simple as breathing, and for a fraction of a second, the wall on your power cracks. Shorter than a breath, quicker than a blink, pure magic detonates through the forest, a wave of searing heat blazing through your skin as the pulse finds the beast, knocking thick trunks down as it goes. Wood splinters, earth raining down from the sky, twigs and sticks and logs smashing into the ground, crunching upon rock. Snapping like bone.

You stare with wide eyes at the creature, an awful screaming sound coming from its lungs, paws strung taut and kicking wildly, as if attempting to run. The piercing tang of iron spears through the clearing, clumps of fur falling loosely, slabs of skin sliding off its still-kicking carcass. The squealing dies to choked splutters, wet crunches sounding with each breath as the body pulses weakly, heart still pumping as blood leaks from skinned muscle.

The tubes of your stomach spasm, clenching and retching, trying to haul something up but you’re utterly empty. Eris isn’t as fortunate. While saliva drips from your lips, thick and slimy, he’s upending everything just behind a tree, as if having lost control of his own body. Deep, spasming breaths hiccup in and out of you wetly, needing something to regurgitate.

Already you can feel that burning heat singe at your flesh, sizzling just beneath the surface, flushing beneath your clothes as if sat directly before a bonfire. Perhaps even inside one. A sharp pain pierces through your lungs, feeling as if a needle is pressing into your side with each inhale, having to quickly shallow the breaths. Aches blossom through your temples, colours growing in intensity, parts of your vision looking as if someone burn a hole in them, lids feeling like they’re made of stone, so heavy and tired.

The sickening tang of iron is the last thing you remember before collapsing forward, exhausted from the volatility of the detonation, feeling blessed to be being swept under so promptly. Provided with such a swift relief from the pain.

————

The smell of pleasantly flaky pastries wafts from beneath your door, bringing with it the sweetness of cream and berries, apparently a breakfast favourite, here.

Bleary eyes crack open, aches thudding dully across your forehead, just above your brows. The room is a little hazy, white spots dancing, the edges of your vision blurred with strange colours, as if you’ve stared directly into the sun for too long. Foot steps pass somewhere through a wall, and you try to blink dully, but your skin is itching, the dimensions of your chamber shifting with each breath, nausea fluttering up your throat.

Wilfully, you close your eyes, once again passing over into unconsciousness.

————

You’re pulled up into the world by pain, a sharp spear piercing through your chest, tiny needles flung carelessly into your anatomy then closed in, so you have to live with the prickling pain creeping beneath every movement. Skin is damp with dew and the clothes stick to your body, rising and falling with every breath, a chill icing across your torso.

The door swings open silently, and you blink blearily, struggling to recognise the tall, male figure with hair like the rising sun. Amber eyes pierce into you, and he comes to a stop beside your bed. “You’re awake.”

Your brows knit together tight, the noise sending a pulse of pain through your mind, but you manage to sit up, the blanket pooling around your stomach. “What happened?” You mumble, pressing the length of your cold fingers to join across the hollow of your eyes. He sits down in a chair you hadn’t noticed, nor remember, resting his arms atop the supports either side. “What do you remember?”

“I remember the forest…” you murmur, brows still pulled tight, but the aches are beginning to recede. “And…being hungry again. And…we were walking…then everything went quiet…” You close your eyes, tugging at the memories, but the pathing seems to fade into nothing. “There was…something…” Hands press over your face, rubbing either side the bridge of your nose, digging deeper.

The eruption hits you all over again, fresh shock washing through your body like you’ve been thrown into an icy river in the middle of winter. You inhale sharply, air pinching at your lungs, coughing. Pressure throbs through your mind with the force, before retreating gently, slinking back into the darkness where it came from.

“It should come easier to you now,” he says, breaking the buzzing silence. “What will?” You ask groggily, deciding to keep your eyes closed for a little longer. “Your magic,” he reminds.

You stiffen, listening to the heavy thud of your heart against your ribs.

“I’m not doing that again,” you whisper, hands still pressed over your brows, as if able to lock yourself up away from the world. To keep it at bay so you don’t have to continue living through it. Content to reside peacefully away from everything, quiet and alone. In your own safety. “I’m—… I can’t.”

Your heart continues its dull thud, quiet stretching between you, feeling like a chasm slowly stretching wider, and wider, until you can hardly see him at all.

“You should eat,” he says at last. “It’s been four days since you last had a meal. You’ll feel sick for a bit, but it will help.” You swallow dryly, prying your tongue from your teeth. The last thing you want to do right now is eat. Eris sighs, standing from the seat. “Wash too. You’ll feel better once you’re clean.” He turns, heading for the door on silent feet.

“Did you ever experience this?” You ask hoarsely, not looking up—you know he’s heard. Eris pauses at the threshold, and you wait in a whirlpool of silence. “Only a few times,” he replies quietly, “but my magic is different from yours. It will react in different ways.”

You don’t have to hear the door close to know he’s left after that, and you spend an unknown amount of time marinating in the sheets. Thoughts buzzing dully, your mind feeling as the air does before a storm.

Static, and prone to sparking.

————

You manage to clean yourself up easily enough once the shaking subsides. There’s still a slight ache whenever you move your eyes too sharply, but you’re working around it. A spare set of sheets is in the small closet at the foot of the bed, and you feel better once they’re changed. But then it’s the task of eating, and you feel worse from the thought alone. He’d said you would feel better, and you know you will, but that’s hard to get through when you feel on the verge of upending your stomach on the floor.

Slowly, one small mouthful at a time, waiting periods in between to make sure you won’t bring it back up, you manage to get through most of the meal. The small chunks of meat had been the most difficult, now not only charged with memories from the hut, but also from furry flesh sliding… You push the thought away. You had done that. You’d taken its life. Had Feyre ever felt that sense of dirt beneath her nails? Palms now not only itching, but lightly tingling too, as if you’ve rubbed your hands through tree sap, and now they’re clogged and sticky.

Eris finds you again in the evening, in better condition, with a little life in your eyes. He marks the now empty plate, something flickering through his gaze, but you don’t pay enough attention to it to figure what it is. “Feeling better?” He asks shortly, sitting in the chair, and you shift the volume from your lap. “A bit,” you concede, sat cross-legged on the mattress, clean sheets pulled over your lap politely. He nods to the book, “bored out of your mind yet?”

“Only by your charming company,” you reply, forcing your lips to quirk at the edges, desperate to rediscover that familiar rhythm between you. Where you can forget some things for a bit, and float through time peacefully.

His brows narrow, but his eyes glint. “You clearly could have gone longer without the meal,” he says, displeasure in his tone that has your lips quirking further. “I’ll remember that for next time.”

“What do you mean next time?” You ask warily, leaning back into the wall, pulling the sheets higher around your waist. He rolls his eyes, and you’re surprised by how familiar the gesture is; how normal. You wonder if he’s doing it intentionally. “Your control is incredibly poor,” he remarks. “It’s almost as if I don’t have any, and this is something entirely new to me,” you mutter, reaching for the book. He gives you a pointed look, and you stiffen, realising you walked into that one.

“I’m not going back into those woods again,” you say cautiously, eyeing him, feeling the comforting weight of the volume in your lap. All that knowledge, condensed into paper and writing. The edges of his mouth sharpen, and wariness intensifies in your stomach. “I think you’ll much prefer the new approach,” he concedes, leaning back in the chair, body relaxed as he watches you. “And what is your new approach?” You ask, already looking nervous, worry etched into your features. “I don’t know if you remember our first polite conversation,” he muses, “but you became rather animated over that little orrery.”

“I remember…” you reply, frowning at him. What does that have to do with anything? “So we’ll try evoking your magic through positive emotion, rather than through fear, or withholding a vital ingredient.”

“At least you’re aware of what you were doing,” you reply dryly, grimacing as you remember the cramps that had twisted through your stomach.

His eyes slide over you analytically, and you try to shy further into the wall, imaginary hackles rising. “Do you have some more…appropriate attire?” He asks, and you scowl at him hard. “For what?” The answer is probably no either way. “For being within the public eye,” he elaborates, as if it’s obvious. “You can’t be out and about in the clothes you’ve donned these past days.” You bite back your reply, having not thought anything wrong with them. They’re modest, well-fitted, and warm.

They’re probably lacking diamonds dripping from the sleeves, knowing him.

“I’ll take that as a no?” Eris remarks, noting the sullen set of your mouth. He sighs, “understandable. I shouldn’t have expected you to have the foresight to plan for this.” Your lips part, brows pulled together as you stare with disbelieving outrage. “You’re much more likeable when you’re not talking. Maybe try it more often,” he adds when you’re unable to form a response, a gleam in his eyes. You blink, shaking your head slightly. “Just adding insult to injury…” you mutter, crossing your arms over your chest. “I could have died to that creature, you know.”

“But you didn’t.”

“No thanks to you.” An unnervingly amused expression relaxes his features, lips softening at their sharp edges. “No thanks to me indeed,” he remarks quietly. “You fought for your own life. I didn’t think you had it in you,” he croons, a faint glint in his amber eyes.

Your features shift, swirling from mild irritation to quiet loss. Brow curled in the centre of your forehead almost imperceptibly as the words register across your skin. Shoulders slump, breath floating away, spine sloping against the wall, peering at your hands in your lap, crumbling and lumpy. “I didn’t, either,” you murmur. So softly he almost doesn’t catch it. But he sees the way you’re looking at your palms, a mix of disgust, and wariness.

“I wanted to live,” you whisper, brows furrowed. And it’s the look of doubtful perplex that has him pulling his eyes away.

“You sound surprised,” he says quietly, after recollecting himself. But you shake your head dully, still watching your hands. “After living with it for so long…” you say, “being on the verge of it for years…” You trail off, leaving him wondering what marks it might have left below your skin.

You clear your throat, looking up but not quite able to meet his eye. “What happened? To the…the creature?”

“I had it burned,” he replies simply.

“Was it…had it died quickly?” You ask softly. Amber eyes mark the slight tremors in your fingertips, the room still save for the tremble of your hands.

“Yes,” he answers, able to hear the whisper of breath that leaves your chest. The faint look of guilty relief in your expression.

It doesn’t for a second cross your mind he could have lied.

An untruth would serve him no benefit.

————

For the first time in a long time, a curse sits on the tip of your tongue.

“Have you changed?” Eris asks, boredom heavy in his tone. “I’m not wearing this,” you whisper hoarsely, staring at the way the riding trousers grip to your legs, curving in at your waist, wrapped around your calves. You don’t even dare look at yourself from behind.

The iron rings hiss as he pulls the curtain back, and you spin around, stumbling back into the mirror. “Eris. Get out.” He raises a brow at the sharp tone, mildly surprised by the abrupt venom, but he knows you’re harmless. For now.

“They fit perfectly,” he states, features remaining in a bland but analytical set. “What’s the problem?”

“Are you—? They’re trousers,” you hiss, already searching for something to pull over yourself. “I don’t care how many wonderful things might await me, I will not wear these things.”

“There are a plethora of other subjects for you to work yourself up over, and yet you choose this one,” he muses, and you press yourself tighter to the mirror. “Get out.”

He offers a skeptical look, and your brows narrow, skin beginning to crawl. You feel so bare. So on display. The shapes of handprints begin to itch over your hind, and pressure builds at the forefront of your head, between your brows. “I’m serious. Get out.” Eris regards you quietly for a moment, head angled slightly as he observes, before turning for the exit. “I suppose the colour doesn’t quite suit you,” he says idly. “Next one.”

The curtains again hiss shut, and you ply your lungs apart with oxygen. Heart racing in your chest. Heat builds behind your eyes, but you push it back if only to ward against the painful prickling sensation it brings forward. With shaky fingers, you manage to push the rigid material down your thighs, folding them neatly and discarding the shirt that had been set out with it. Swiftly moving to the next piece. With some conscious effort, you’re able to shift your mind to what lies ahead: he’d mentioned attempting to stimulate your magic through positive emotions rather than fear, which had your interest piqued. Though part of you worries what he might think of as worthy of positive emotion.

The itch to your skin hasn’t quite faded, and your hands have gotten worse since the forest. Bumps are more pronounced on the tops of your knuckles, scabbed over but still raw. The pressure in your head has again receded, but remains, throbbing lightly whenever you raise or lower your head. To make everything unimaginably worse, you’d spotted the beginnings of your cycle this morning, and had nearly cried. You’d secretly hoped the amount of strain your magic has been putting on your body would be enough to relieve the horror, but it seems not. You’d also found more than a few bruises littering your skin, but those will hopefully be healed and gone by the day’s end—they’re only light from when you’d hit the rock.

Thinking back on it, you’re surprised no bones were broken.

“Do you make a game out of taking years to change, or are you simply that slow?”

Your demeanour instantly drops further, a scowl settling between your brows. You finish tying the bodice up, then walk to the curtain, gently pulling one aside. “I’d like to see you attempt to tie yourself up in one of these dresses,” you mutter, arms automatically folding self-consciously across your torso, one hand wrapped over your waist, the other settled below your shoulder. “There are too many strings to do up.” “Turn around,” he says, ignoring you completely.

Pulling back on the scowl, you turn in a circle. “Saying a please or a thank you every so often wouldn’t turn you to stone, you know,” you remark as you move, eventually having gone full circle. “Is this one good enough, your sourness?” You ask, dipping into a provoking curtsey.

His lips remain pressed in a disapproving line, but his eyes gleam. “It’ll do.”

————

You’d been folding your previous clothes back into your small closet, wondering about where he was about to take you. Curiosity wandering through your mind. If he tries to take you so much as a step towards that forest again…

You close the doors softly, turning for the door, going to meet him when your eyes pass over the small desk, pushed tight to the walls. Just beside the volume sits the small, deep blue gift box. You pause, gaze shifting from the door to the desk. Fingers raise to thumb at your earlobes, stroking absently.

Before you can doubt yourself, you walk over to the box, opening it up, peering down at the pair of earrings, understated but refined. Plain, generic jewellery.

You slide the gold in, pearl droplets hanging pretty from delicately pointed ears.

Again, fingers skate over your lobes, this time pierced and weighted. It’s probably the only time you’ll feel brave enough to wear them. A dull ache rubs through your heart, but you push it away, hands falling to your sides as you walk briskly for the exit, out to find Eris.

Leaving the small box open and gutted on the desk.

————

It’s about three in the afternoon, and the crisp breeze cools your skin, playing about your hair and fluttering across the fabric of the dress. Luckily, most of the finely sewn material is concealed by a an earthy orange cloak, dusty but warm coloured. A few wisps of hair tickle the edges of your mouth, and you push them away irritably, wishing to pin it back. You wish his hair bothered him the way yours does.

“Is there anywhere in particular I’m being taken, or is this another mindless stroll?” You inquire, keeping a step or two behind him, trailing along as you peer at the stalls, set up in the courtyard of the palace. “None of the walks have been thoughtless,” he corrects, keeping on his leisurely path, “there are a few things I’m in need of, but you should be looking about on your own.”

“What do you mean ‘looking about on my own’?” You ask, brows furrowing lightly.

“I don’t know what you like,” he replies, as if it’s obvious. You blink, then nod, mostly to yourself. “Right.”

“You do know what you like, don’t you?” He asks seriously, glancing at you briefly from over his shoulder. “Of course I know what I like,” you return, meeting his piercing gaze. “Do you? Or are you always so busy with work you have no time for fun?”

“You have interests in things that serve yourself?” He redirects, skepticism more prominent than before as he makes his way effortlessly through the people. “Nothing that might benefit that family of yours?”

“They’re as much family to me as you are with yours,” you reply thoughtlessly, not a single beat passing.

The words register in your mind, at once tasting foul and horrid. How ungrateful you sound, guilt beating against your still-bruised flesh. Shame heats your skin, eyes drifting down to the neat cobbles. You hadn’t meant that. “I mean…family’s a particular word,” you mumble, pearls hanging heavy from your lobes. Thumbs brush over them—should you even be wearing such a gift? Thoughtless, perhaps…potentially intended. Holding great beauty, while plain and generic. Are you worthy of that?

“You seem to assume I am not close with my own,” he speculates idly, perhaps with more lightness than you’re accustomed to. You suppose you don’t spend much time around people…maybe the differences stand out more because of that. Less habits to familiarise and attune yourself to.

You swallow, gaze skipping to dance over stools: herbs and spices, dried plants and trinkets, small glass bottles filled with gem-coloured liquids, tiny circular things that look like they’d taste sweet, gleaming jewels that wink up at passersby, thread so thin it’s like hair or cobweb. A jewellers stand catches your eye, not through the nature of the craftsmanship, which is admittedly fine, but the table holds a modest assortment of rings, and you’re for some reason reminded of the ones Rhys sometimes adorns his hands with. Wrought in sterling silver, small details welded to the solid bands, showcasing its sturdiness and elegance simultaneously. Like dancers.

Silver flickers at the back of your mind before vanishing, hastily doused before second-thoughts begin swarming.

“Are you?” You inquire with equal lightness.

“They are my family,” he says, “proximity won’t change that.”

A natural quiet settles between you, filled only by the background chatter of other voices, other people with their own lives; their own victories and losses. Other problems, with or without solutions, continuing on with life, because times is ceaseless and everlasting, ticking by coldly, peacefully, sometimes with devastating fluidity, others with painful leisure. Perhaps it’s not time at fault, but yourself. Time isn’t cruel, nor is it kind, it simply exists as it is, unable to deviate from what it started as and unable to shift from what it will become; what it will remain to be. Time is a precious constant, one of the few certainties that will persist no matter what.

The sun will rise and fall, as will the moon. The stars will move through the sky as the planet spins, and life will continue with much more grandeur than such small, short things should acquire. Even immortality will crumble before time—your kind of immortality at least. Endlessly, consistently living, until life is taken away.

You had thought you’d made peace with your mortality as a human, yet you suppose each day you still got up with your sisters, still washed and spoke and persisted, still set one foot in front of the other, even if you weren’t conscious of it. Then the other day something like a drop opened up in your path, something that would require more than one foot in front of the other, and you had found yourself jumping.

You had not walked off that ledge; one foot in front of the other hadn’t sufficed.

For less than a minute, the desire to be had been brimming from your fingertips, glowing through your skin and filling you to the point of overflowing. For little less than sixty seconds, you had been confronted with an end, and had moved accordingly. For a few brief moments, absence had loomed before you, dark and terrifying, and you had no want for it.

Where does that put you?

You’d been thrown into a river, and found yourself swimming.

For what?

What was it for?

Peace had been made, acceptance reached, yet sparks had flown, and another life had been taken in place of yours.

Your eyes raise to the sunset orange of his hair, the broad shoulders, the assured and unfaltering strides that carry him forward. The doubtless weight of steel that is set at his hip, the fire that burns in his veins, pure and hot, the sharpened blades that sit readily on his tongue, protected on all fronts. Strength incarnate.

“For someone without flames to harness, you’re burning a hole in the back of my neck fairly well.”

You blink, pulled away from the conflicting whirlpool of thoughts, unaware of the intensity you’d been regarding him with. “I zoned out,” you mumble, attention shifting to the tall walls rising on either side, and you realise he’s led you away from the marketplace. “Where are we going now?” You ask, at last noting the faded noises of other people, now only distant drones. “I told you there are things I am in need of,” he repeats, not looking back, forging onward, so certain the world will not fall out from under his feet. “And these things are down a dark, suspiciously quiet alley?” You ask skeptically, speeding your paces, remaining less than a step behind him. “One of them is,” he answers, leaving it there.

Wariness settles across your bones, eyeing him doubtfully, but continuing on his heel. It’s not like you have anywhere else to go, so you might as well stick with him, within the realms of relative safety.

Eris turns another corner, narrower than the last street, and you even out your breaths. Nobody would do shady exchanges at three in the afternoon. Right?

Doubt unspools in your stomach as you come upon a door in the wall, one that he enters without knocking, and you keep close in the now dim light, a latch clicking behind you. While there is no obvious difference, you get the distinct sense there’s a decline in the pathway, leading deeper into the ground until the tunnel-like walkway opens into a room, lit by flaming braziers. Few things are held within the room, as if constantly on the move and requiring the ability to make an easy exit, should it be needed.

The exchange is over and done with swiftly, a fluid passing of a weighted pouch with a small box, one that Eris pockets seamlessly, turning and leaving without a word being spoken, not even a nod of recognition before you’re following him out again, the hair at the nape of your neck rising with wariness at the strange sequence of events.

Sound returns when you walk out into the air, less menacing than before, open and inviting with its refreshingly crisp bite, and it reminds you slightly of the fresh air of Velaris—its cool nippiness that washes through lungs to pump its users full of freshened life. Life people are desperate to live, taking breath after breath, hauling it down obsessively.

You suppose even if your held your breath, you would eventually find yourself fighting for it, your own choice or not.

Again, your attention drifts to his back, assured and certain. Steady and secure.

Knowingly or not, questions have been sparked within you, questions you’d prefer to understand before being knocked from the world. Questions that will require action on your own part, no longer sitting passively but searching—not in the way you had in the libraries, nor in the ways when you had been trying to summon your magic back in the House of Wind. It would require a fundamental shift in your outlook, one that had only begun to take root in your mind after years of dull buzzing. You’ve always had a fondness for them: questions. Answered or not, the act of seeking more, searching for more is beloved by you. It’s a skill you’ve been practicing, training, sharpening unknowingly but consistently throughout your life. And now, the intrigue and fondness for learning, the desire to understand and develop will now be harnessed inward, the intent aimed at yourself, poised to unravel, learn, and discover.

All over the simple yet surprising act of defence—to protect and preserve. The fight to continue. Breath after breath, one foot in front of the other. The relentless push of life itself. Aware or otherwise, he’s started you down a new road, one that will likely wind and divert, but it’s your duty to stay on track and not fumble.

It’s enough your steps falter, pausing as the market place once again comes into view.

“You said I should be looking about on my own,” you say, not quite a question, but lacking the certainty of a statement. Eris glances over his shoulder, coming to a stop. “If you’d like,” he answers blandly, but you’re too preoccupied by the hurtling path of your own thoughts to wonder at the tone. “There was a stall that caught my eye,” you say cautiously, unsure of what’s coming out of your mouth.

He nods, eyes raising far above, where a large clocktower gazes down upon the courtyard. “Be back here in twenty minutes,” he replies, and you nod, already searching for the way you’d come. “And for the gods’ sake, don’t blow anything up,” he mutters under his breath, just as you pass by.

“Yeah,” you say quietly. “Okay.”

Breath after breath, one foot in front of the other. No footsteps to follow after.

Pushing forward on your own. Seeking what you want.

Gold and pearl hanging heavy from your lobes.

Too heavy.

——————————————————————————————————————————————

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gremlingottoosilly · 6 months

Text

The horror and the wild [!emperor!Konig x fem!Reader] ch.5

You had a nice, simple life. Serve the princess, obey the princess, protect the princess with your life. You never thought that this nice, simple life would bring you to be kidnapped by the infamous Northern Emperor. Konig never thought that kidnapping a wife would be much easier than courting one.

CHAPTER 1 CHAPTER 2| Chapter 3| Chapter 4| Chapter 5l you're here! AO3

Word count: 3188 Tags/Warnings: Medieval fantasy/Alternative European history AU, Age gap, Enemies(one-sided)to lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, Forced marriage, Size difference(Konig is absolutely huge), Somewhat one-sided slow burn, Yandere Konig

Warnings for this chapter: Predator/Prey kink, mild choking

Little princess doesn’t know what’s good for her. Little princess is dumb and naive and oh, so deliciously weak, it makes Konig sick just how much he adores her pouty face, her aggressive expressions, and that squeak in her voice every time he does something to embarrass her – which he does, a lot, in fact. Quite aware of how his war dog lingo would affect an innocent young lady like his precious dearest darling illustrious wife, he uses it to hi advantage – when you have your lady cornered, heavy panting and cumming from your tongue and your fingers in her tight royal cunt, she wouldn’t be able to open her mouth for something meaningless, right? Thou shall not think as thou would be a sin against god.

Emperor is a sinner, but he still believes that you shall always follow the religious instructions – as if not ever trying to oppose him and speak like you have the right to think in his presence. Perhaps, his devotion to making you weak and pliable in his arms is what led to this situation.

Little princess doesn’t know what’s good for her, so little princess runs.

You might brag about your best education and most elegant courses for women you attended in the palace – but he knows just how empty your adorable little head is, because you had no idea how much the thrill of the hunt turns him on.

You’re nowhere to be found, escaped through the window of the room you were stationed in – it was his mistake, assigning you a place from which you could jump so easily. Next time, he will cuff you to his bedpost, like a loyal palace dog lying on his legs. Next time, he will make sure to love you so eagerly that your legs won’t work for at least a few days.

He doesn’t even need his hunting dogs to catch you. Horangi offers his help, Tiger so eager to come out and play with a little princess, perhaps maul her a bit, showing the royal cunt what she deserves for disrespecting her emperor and his subjects – but oh no, this won’t do. König needs to discipline you himself, track your scent like the hound he is, and get you back to your wedding bed with your body in his teeth.

Woe on you, dumb little princess, as your emperor considers escape attempts the richest form of courting.

Following you through the forest near the castle, your footsteps are clear in the mud and dirt – a piece of your dress serves as a grinding light. Your scent, delicious sweetness, and fresh flower oils maid had infused you with made it laughably easier to find you. He can almost see the glimpses of your body running through the woods – god, he knew that he wanted you and was right about taking you away.

How can he resist a wedding gift from his bride who wants to play tag? He follows you like a madman, a dog, he sees through trees, trying to see where you could run. The deep golden brown of your dress almost made you look like a forest spirit standing in the depths of the woods – if it weren’t for König’s trained eye, he would rather mistake you for a tree. Or a particularly precious deer.

He licks his lips, a wolf approaching the bunny he was hunting for so long – you run away, still try to. These dumb skirts aren’t made for running away from your fiancee in a forest – you can barely walk in those, poor thing. You take a step back, panicking, squawking from fear, as he approaches you as slowly as possible.

Perhaps, if he gives you one more chance to run, it would make the chase even more precious.

He is used to hunting with his royal hounds, with a group of his closest friends by his side – war hawks helping hunt for prey, the animal snifters making the whole process laughably easy. He doesn’t have anyone for the company now.

Only you, him, and wilderness – and his adoring love for everything you do.

— Stop resisting, little princess.

You whimper, but your little annoyed expression makes him only harder. Hell, how he adores your frown, how much he wants to kiss your face right now – god knows he is holding himself back these days. Little princess doesn’t deserve to get her innocence taken on her back, legs open on the dirt of the royal forest – but sometimes you act like a good lashing, and some passionate mating is the only thing that would keep you in line.

He yells in your direction, hoping that even that dumb head of yours has some sense in it – the chase is fun, and he would continue it more until you’re completely unraveled under him, exhausted and defeated – but, oh, your silly desire to be free has led you to the edge of the lake. Dancing on the shaky, soft sands and warm mud of the pond, your clothes leave you with very small chances of getting out of here in one piece.

He doesn’t want to be the bringer of doom, but just one sleep, a nervous movement that you can’t control – and the little princess of his dreams will come flying in the dark waters. Even if your royal majesty knows how to swim, the heavy fabrics of your garments would be declared as your executioners.

You look so fragile like this – your skirt is lifted, showing your pretty ankles, as you’re trying to jump from stone to stone, as far away from him as possible. You’re scared, only reminding him more of the bunnies he used to hunt as a kid – and he is almost offended that you’d prefer that risk of drowning over getting in the hands of your husband again, but alas, princesses are usually not the smartest creatures on the planet.

— I’d rather die, Your Majesty.

You bite your lips and look at him, so stubborn and cute – the feelings in him rise, your arrogant expression making the thrill of the hint ever sweeter. God, he cannot control himself around you like this – you should stop trying to make yourself sweeter for him, he already wants to keep you chained in his bed and never let you go.

You’re so…

Ach.

His path of thought is stopped by the splash of water.

Dumb thing, you really decided to make the most of your words – like a cornered animal, you jumped in the lake, getting to the bottom almost immediately. Your dress is heavy and expensive, all the weight of the fabrics pinning you down in elaborate execution. Your emperor stands on the small beach, looking at the water circles going from where you fell…and then he jumps straight after you.

The last thing you remembered before the world went dark was the scream of a man who, for the first time in his life, had experienced genuine fear.

*** You wake up warm – and naked.

No wet clothes, no heavy dress lingering on your skin like a soft coffin.

You’re as naked as the day you were born, shivering despite the warmness of the room and the crackling of fire somewhere near you. You remember this room – a royal bedroom, quickly made as your quarters when you moved to this god-forsaken castle. Empire has some horribly extensive architecture, and this room, big, stony, and expelled of any decor, has only made you feel regret ever waking up.

You wished to wake up in the cold embrace of your Princess – but you open your eyes and see this room over and over again. Why couldn’t death come sooner?

— It was incredibly stupid even for you, little princess.

König sits on the edge of the bed. A future husband shouldn’t sit like this, resembling a servant who is scared for the health of his misstress. His eyes are filled with cold fury and other emotions that you can’t quite grasp – you don’t want to look at his face too much as even the mere glimpse is making you uncomfortable. God knows you are not in the mood for trying to talk to your captor.

God knows he doesn’t care about your wishes.

— If you can only provide me freedom in case of my death…

— You will not be free after your death.

You sigh, shocked – your brain isn’t nearly ready for this information when you just almost died. You shift in your bed, trying to pretend that you accidentally fell asleep – but the emperor pushes his hand on your cheek, warm fingers lingering on the cold skin. You sigh quietly, sealing his warmth.

You fight the desire to nuzzle in his palm like an obedient little pet.

— It’s not for you to decide, Your Majesty. I should be allowed to die on my own accord.

— I'm entitled to your life, my bride. Don’t make me remind you of this, ja?

— I would rather…

— I can deliver death to you, little one. In a verdammt heartbeat.

His hand goes from a warm presence on your cheek to an angry squeeze of your neck – you cough when he continues to shut your breath, fluttering of your neck in his grasp only makes your defeat even sweeter. König has you right where he wants it – under him, holding firmly in his grasp like some exotic bird he picked up from his travels.

Lack of air makes you dizzy – as ironic as it sounds, you feel airheaded, hands clinging to his massive palm in a poor attempt to make him let you go. You whimper, you cry, you feel death all too soon – you want to die, of course, maybe, willingly meeting in hell with the royalty you had sworn to serve, but you don’t want to be killed. Tears run down your cheeks when you finally see the other side of him – out of control, angry, worse even than the conqueror you saw when you first met.

You feel replaceable and small – he squeezes your throat like you aren’t his bride like you don’t mean anything to him, and, yes, it makes you feel hurt. Vulnerable as ever, your manicured nails have zero power over him – he only laughs at your helpless expression. For a second, it makes you think this is it – the last thing you would ever see is the cold anger in the eyes of your emperor.

When your vision finally got blurry enough so you could not see anything anymore, König softly lowered his face closer to you, lifting the bottom part of his weird, strange hood. Smothering you with his lips, delivering the air you were craving for – if only to make himself feel even more in control. You’re lightheaded and a bit dumb, still, your mind is too delirious to actually understand anything that is happening around you.

His lips are warm and dry, you steal air from his lungs with each second – you feel the energy feeling you up again, eyes are finally set enough to see at least some part of his face. Chiseled chin, covered in scars, tanned skin – you’re surprised that he is not as pale as you thought he must be, with his love for the masks.

His veins are dark and rotten – you don’t understand how he can survive with his blood looking like this, but the dark tendrils of his body almost make him more of a curiosity than an actual human being. It’s only his lips that are still holding you in realms of the living. You don’t want to think of the implications and gossip you heard from some servants that were allowed to go out – allowed to witness the growth of the empire that was soon to eat you all.

König finally lets go of your mouth when you start falling asleep again. You don’t allow him to simply cover his lips with his hood again though – your hands are heading to lend on his neck, fingers tracing the outlines of his veins.

A medical curiosity, this emperor – you squeeze the rot of his neck, and he moans like you just did something that he liked too much.

It’s only fitting that he has the body of a monster – for all he is done, you wouldn't be surprised if his head actually resembles the one of an octopus from silly books you were reading or a mess of dark tendrils, wiggling and swarming. Your delirious, oxygen-deprived mind still wants to touch him more, to satisfy your curiosity in all the more fitting ways. Maybe take your research a bit further down to see if he truly is a man down there.

But oh well, you saw his body before – although you never as much as paid attention to that detail. Did he change in a few days that passed? Does his veins start to spew out darkness because he is…

He crushed your hand in his, almost making you feel a crack in your dainty lady fingers. God forbid you feel like your hands are being torn apart.

— Never try to defy me like this again.

He spews the words with anger than would be fitting for the enemy – and he is, for you, but you were sure that he didn’t consider you one of them. The contrast with his soft actions earlier, you can feel tears collecting in your eyes as he slowly lets go of your hand.

Not knowing what to do, you roll to the side, burning desire to never see his face – or lack thereof – ever again. Like an angry cat that doesn’t know how to stop biting, you feel like you’re going to cry again and again.

You whimper, trying to escape the haunting gaze of his eyes – and his face softens, if only for a bit. He presses his hand against your damp forehead, checking the temperature. You don’t want to forgive him just yet – for anything at this matter, but he is soft at this moment, and somehow, it is almost enough. Somehow, you almost feel like you can breathe again.

— I was so scared, little princess. I don’t like being scared.

You laugh dryly, your face is still deep in the pillow. You are trying to ignore the beast, but the beast decided that you’re his best option for a nice free snack. Beast decided to take off some of his clothes – you don’t see it, but you hear the sound of fabric hitting the floor, and you don’t want to even think how much it cost.

You try to cover your naked body with the silk sheets of your bed, but soft fabric only entices your desires in a way that can only be called sinful. You remember the sensation of his tongue between your legs, your desire to simply run out of your skin because of how good it felt – each stroke made you strive further and further away from your duties. Like a good little maid you are, a perfect lady in waiting, waiting for her demise, you have to ignore all the mortal pleasures.

If you want the royal family to truly forgive you in their graves, you would have to join them. Perhaps, you gave up on drowning too fast.

— It wasn’t my intention.

He shifts, the bed is too small for someone like him. You feel his legs, clothed, thank god, touching your naked thighs – and you immediately stir to the further side. You keep your arms and legs in check, getting into a small ball of limbs as you’re trying to comfort yourself without his touch. You don’t want to admit it, but König is warm, warmer than you thought he had the right to be, and you’re freezing. The phantom feeling of cold water on your skin is making you shiver.

— What were your intentions then?

If the emperor knows about manners and how a fiancee should behave around his bride that he didn’t even consummate the marriage, he is ignoring that knowledge. Large hands pinning you to his chest, warm and firm – to your utter dread, he took off the armor plates and even the simple shirt under it, making you helplessly squish your cheek against his muscles. He smells like a man, and you never knew you’d feel that smell in your life.

You don’t hate it.

— You killed by parents, Your Majesty.

He only laughs, his hand goes to stroke your back. This is a contrast with his coldness before – he is soft and warm with you, and you hate that you don’t hate it. Gigantic palm goes to settle between your shoulder blades and you simply sigh, trying to get used to his touches. You don’t want to, but a good servant should adapt to everything, so you do just that. Adapting, deforming, melding yourself in something you never knew you even could be.

Your head hurts, and you whimper when his gentle massage relaxes your sore muscles. You hate his gentleness, you hate his firmness.

You want him to let you go, but you don’t even know where you would go.

— Your parents, little princess? Really?

There is a vile mockery in his voice, and you immediately remember who this man is. Not some devoted lover and slightly obsessive romanticist – he is dangerous, horrible, he is the conqueror of your country. You may not have warm feelings about the royal family, but he doesn’t know this – his laugh and mockery of your “family” must be real. It has to be, or else you’re going to die after your deceiving has been opened.

He pushes you even closer to him, and you whimper like a dumb little dog without any means of stopping him from touching you. There is some freedom from being exposed like this, but you still don’t like it. Still feel like he is going to murder you, given the reason.

— If anything, my men did it. That dog you called a father did not deserve my sword.

Anger fills your whole body – not because you were particularly close with the king, but because König is parading his mockery of your supposed family. He hugs you with hands that are covered in blood, no matter if he is just the one to give orders.

You try to get out of his grasp, but apathy fills you. What’s the point if the royal family is dead? What’s the point if you aren’t even the real princess.

— You will not call my father…

He makes you shut your mouth when he kisses your head. Sweet and soft, you do not understand his intentions. If anything, it feels like yet another mockery.

— I will call him like I want, meine Liebe. And you will still be mine.

— I won’t just take it, Your Majesty.

He laughs again. You feel sick.

— With our wedding tomorrow, little flower, you will have to take it. Not the last thing you’ll take on that day, little princess.

You feel like you are going to be sick.

König kisses you again, forcing you to sleep in his hands.

#cod #konig x reader #yandere konig #konig #cod x reader #cod x you #call of duty #yandere cod #konig mw2 #reader insert

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mellowsadistic · 16 days

Text

The Flower Girl - Part 4

Grace sat on the floor with her legs spread out in front of her, playing with her Barbie dolls. Her once sleek, elegant blonde hair was tied up in a pair of scruffy pigtails. She wore a bib over her bare breasts; it was splattered with baby food, and a fair amount was still smeared around her mouth and chin. Her trim, tight tummy was gone – she didn’t get much exercise anymore, and the rich creamy bottles of formula she constantly drank ensured that her belly had a permanent layer of baby fat. Her thick disposable diaper bulged between her legs, clearly soaked to the brim, and there was a strong potty smell surrounding her that let anyone who came close know that she’d pooped her pants. It was how little Gracie spend most of her days.

After the worst day of her life, Grace had spent a couple of weeks back with her mother while Jessica and Rob went on their honeymoon. Two weeks of having her own mother treat her like she was an overgrown two-year-old, feeding her and bathing her and wiping her butt for her, and talking at length about how lucky they were that Jessica had put Grace ‘in her rightful place’.

But things were even worse once Jessica got back. Grace was her little girl now, a plaything to tease and taunt however she wanted, a witness to her victory. Jessica gave her all sorts of ridiculous tasks to do, and Gracie did every one of them with a dumb grin on her face – wiggling her butt and singing along to The Wheels on the Bus, playing tea-parties with her stuffed animals, seeing just how much of a mess she could make of herself during mealtimes in her highchair.

Grace looked up from her Barbies and took in the living room. There were lots of new pictures up on the shelves. Pictures of Jessica and Rob looking radiant together as they held hands and kissed on their wedding day. And of course, pictures of her. Pictures of her sucking her toes in the middle of a nappy change. Pictures of her making silly faces at the camera. And, in pride of place above the mantlepiece, a picture of her in her flower girl dress, squatting down in the middle of the aisle, making a messy diaper on what should have been her special day.

After she’d spent a few more weeks as a helpless passenger in her own body, squishing around in poopy pants, giggling along to baby shows, and getting her butt spanked for misbehaviour, Jessica had finally deigned to tell her how she’d stripped away her adulthood and autonomy and turned all her family and friends, including her beloved Rob, into her beaming accomplices – not that knowing did her much good. I’m a witch, you silly slut. All it took was a little spell to make your body act like a dumb toddler while keeping your mind trapped inside. I want you to know you’re being punished, after all. Then I cast another spell on all your wedding guests to make them think that I’m the one who ought to be marrying Rob, and that being my well-disciplined daughter is exactly what you deserve. Even your own mother thinks so! The only difficulty was this kind of magic requires eye contact, so it was easiest to wait until the ceremony when everyone closest to you was gathered in one place, and I could work my spell on them all at once. Besides, it was so much more fun to take Rob away from you right at the last moment!

Suddenly, Grace heard a noise at the front door, the turning of a key in the lock. “Dada!” she squealed, getting to her feet and toddling over to the man who should have been her husband, her bare breasts wobbling about ludicrously and her nappy crinkling loudly with every step.

“Hi princess!” said Rob, ruffling his ex-fiancée’s hair. Then he wrinkled his nose. “Peeyew! I think someone’s done a stinky!”

“I’m a stupid, stinky wittle giwl!” Gracie said proudly.

Rob chuckled and pulled her in for a cuddle. “Daddy loves you, sweetheart,” he cooed. “Even if you are just a stinky little girl who’s too stupid for potty training.”

He kissed her on the forehead and Grace felt a pleasant tingling run through her body. Rob still loved her. Grace supposed she should be grateful for that – even if it was as a Daddy instead of as a husband.

No! She couldn’t start thinking like that. She was going to break whatever hold Jessica had over her and Rob! She couldn’t spend the rest of her life like this!

“Hi Rob!” came Jessica’s voice. “Did you have a good day at work?” She swept down the stairs and rushed over to him, flashing a smirk at Grace before cupping a hand to her husband’s cheek and kissing him passionately.

Gracie giggled happily at the sight of her Mummy and Daddy’s affection for each other, but inside she was boiling with anger. That bitch needed to get her tongue out of Rob’s mouth right now, or else… or else…

Or else what? she asked herself bitterly. She’d blow a raspberry at her? Stomp her feet and throw a tantrum? Make an even bigger mess in her diaper for her to clean up?

Jessica pressed her body against Rob’s, and Grace saw Rob’s hand move down her back to squeeze her ass. Jessica moaned into his mouth.

“What about Gracie?” Rob asked, breaking off the kiss momentarily. “She needs changing.”

“She can wait,” Jessica said. “Some time in a messy nappy will help her learn her place.”

“You’re too harsh on her sometimes.”

“She has to learn she’s not a grown-up anymore,” Jessica said firmly. “She’s nothing but a silly, smelly baby now, no matter how big her tits are. She’s never going to be an adult again, so she might as well get used to poopy pants.”

Rob nodded and went back to kissing his wife.

Grace wanted to scream and cry, but instead she just pouted – as if her life being ruined forever was some mild annoyance to her, on par with having to take a nap or go and sit in time-out.

“Still,” said Jessica, breaking off the kiss again, “we don’t want her ruining the mood with her stinky Pampers.” She turned to grin maliciously at Grace, who was still standing there watching, sucking one of her fingers. “Bedtime for you, potty-pants.”

“But Mama!” Grace heard herself whining. “It’s only 6 o’ clock!”

Jessica flashed her a stern look, and Grace felt her diaper warming as she peed herself out of fear. Little Gracie didn’t want Mummy to turn her tushy red again.

Hating how pathetic Jessica had made her, she whimpered and turned around, waddling off dejectedly to her nursery. She climbed into her crib, clutching half a dozen stuffed animals to her, and lay her head down on her pillow, trying to ignore the disgusting mess in her nappy and fall asleep while the sounds of Jessica and Rob’s passionate sex echoed through the house.

Grace sobbed on the inside, the realisation finally dawning on her that Jessica had won. Her adult privileges had been revoked forever, all because of a jealous woman’s grudge, and she’d just have to get used to her new life as a stupid, big-titted baby. There was nothing else she could do. Grace felt her thumb slip between her lips as she drifted off to sleep in her loaded diaper, hoping that she’d get to dream about a life where she’d been the one to marry Rob, or at the very least, where she was allowed to go potty somewhere that wasn’t in her pants.

The End

***

If you want to read more evil stories about women being transformed into overgrown babies, I also post on SubscribeStar.

#mellowsadistic

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ciellunee · 5 months

Note

hey hi hello could u do a fic with toji fushiguro and maybe gojo?

one of them (or both 🤭) with a reader who has a very big attitude. like always making up comebacks, acting like a diva, etc. she also has really great hair and outfits. it can be sfw or nsfw—whichever one works better.

Hey! I hope you're doing good✨️ enjoy reading and keep requesting♡

Bratty reader x jjk men

Includes - Toji fushiguro, Gojo satoru

Tw⚠️- contains NSFW 🔞 minors dni

☆Toji fushiguro☆

At first, he's charmed by your attitude. Nobody ever dared to talk to him like that, but you, you were different.

You're gorgeous. He's in awe of the way you present yourself. From your hair to clothes, your figure and personality, everything is charismatic. Cherry on top is that attitude of yours. You know just what to say. Sometimes, it hurts his ego, but mostly, he enjoys that cute little smirk you have with every spicy comeback.

"Tojiiii, you always have to work on weekends," you whined. 'Some people need to work in order to earn money princess, unlike some who'll laze around the house munching on chips and then complaint they're getting fat.' He shot you a devilish smirk.

"Funny how you're still living under my roof when you work, and I laze around" getting closer to his ears you whisper - ' talk to me like that again and you'll be sleeping on street'

Acting like a brat? He'll make sure he punishes you.

◇NSFW◇

Toji fushiguro doesn't play when it comes to punishments.

He knows how to knock some discipline into your bratty self.

Will pound you from behind and makes you look in the mirror while you continually repeat- "I'm sorry daddy, I've been a brat!"

Degradation is toji's kink. Asks you to repeat things like 'who's sl*t you are' and makes you beg for forgiveness.

Fucks you hard all night until you pass out from all the orgasms you've had.

"Next time make sure your cu*t can keep up with your mouth princess"

☆Gojo satoru☆

Satoru is fun loving when it comes to you. He adores you so damn much that it doesn't matter how bratty you get sometimes.

One thing everyone knows about satoru is that, he's a very jealous man. He knows you're gorgeous. Your shiny locks, elegant clothing and beautiful skin....everything about you makes him crazy.

"Babyyyyyyy!! I miss your cuddles, you're always so busy" satoru groans. 'I can stop working as soon as you stop leaving your damn work unattended' you shrug.

"You're so mean I bet utahime would treat me alot more sweetly" he smirks. He's petty and he knows that. 'And I am pretty sure Kento would be my ideal match. He never complaints, always have my back, he's a great cook and above all......he's so hot!'

This was enough to throw satoru off the table. You're a mean brat and he NEEDS to cater to that.

◇NSFW◇

"Yeah?? Want to cum babygirl" your moans are slippery and eyes filled with tears. 'Toru ple-please' you whined.

Satoru edges you the whole night, reminding you who he his. "You're always so wet for me"

Asks you to moan his name louder and louder so that you know who's making you feel so good. Loves it when your mind breaks and the only thing you can think about or speak about his him.

"Weren't so sweet a while back? You think kento can take care of you like this? You think kento can make you feel like this? You think kento can make this cunt throb this much?"

Edges you to the climax multiple times but removes his hands until you cry and beg for his forgiveness.

I'll let you cum once I feel you're truly sorry. Till then....let's see how much this pu*sy can endure.

Tags- @brunette-bitch77

#jujutsu kaisen #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jjk drabbles #jjk x reader #toji fushiguro #toji smut #jjk smut #toji x reader #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo smut #bratty

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delusionalbitchinthehouse · 1 month

Text

"You should not be here, Cardinal."

The voice is no more than a deep rumble, one that should make the hair at the back of Terzo's neck stand, but instead draws him in, makes him look for its owner. There, a big, big ghoul, hood pulled down low on his black mask, leans against one of the library's heavy bookshelves.

"It was open," Terzo answers with a smirk, eyes roaming over the hellspawn considering him a few strides away.

"It was not."

There is a shimmer of something in the ghoul's voice, one that tells Terzo he's willing to indulge the human standing before him. With a lazy shrug, he twirls a hairpin between his fingers.

"It was once I was done."

There's a symbol embroided in the ghoul's robe, one that Terzo has never seen on any other uniform. The omega symbol, his brain supplies.

"You live up to your reputation," the ghoul comments, taking a few steps in Terzo's direction. Up close, he's even taller. Terzo has to crane his head back to look at him in the eyes.

"I have a reputation ?" he grins, swiping a hand through his hair.

Of course, Terzo is well-aware he does. But he's curious what the ghoul heard about him.

"They say there's a troublesome, rebelious Cardinal winning everyone over. Papa's little brother."

The ghoul shifts, leans toward Terzo ever-so-slightly, like he's trying to gauge his reaction. He gets a nonchalent chuckle for his troubles.

"Interesting. And what would you say ?"

The ghoul is close enough that Terzo can feel the warmth radiating off him, see the steady rise and fall of his broad chest.

"I say there's a brat who sneaked into the library and disturbed the peace and quiet I was finally getting."

That startles a laugh - a full laugh - out of Terzo. Not many dare to speak of him like that ; especially not ghouls and especially not to his face. It is strangely welcome.

"You're bold."

"I could say the same about you," the ghoul points out, head tilting to the side. Terzo hums.

"True. Then, may I be so bold as to enquire for your name ?"

The ghoul chuckles, but there's a genuine note of surprise in it.

"What makes you think I have one ?"

Terzo raises an eyebrow.

"I know you ghouls have names. Just because the Ministry fails to acknowledge it doesn't mean I don't know better."

The ghoul doesn't answer immediately, crossing his arms in front of his chest, thoughtful. Then he shrugs, the wide plane of his shoulders rising with a disciplined sort of elegance.

"I'm called Omega."

Ah, hence the symbol then. Terzo smirks and holds his hand out.

"Omega. I'm Terzo. It is a pleasure to meet you."

Omega takes his hand with less hesitation than Terzo expected, his rough, calloused palm swallowing Terzo's much smaller one, wide metal rings pressing softly against his skin. With a cheeky grin, he raises the ghoul's hand to his face - not quite kissing it, but bringing Omega's knuckles close enough to his mouth to suggest it. The ghoul huffs, letting his hand drop once Terzo let go of it.

"Run along, Terzo Emeritus. Whatever you hoped to find in here, you won't, not tonight."

There's a smile colouring his words, even if Terzo can't see it. He grins in answer.

"Oh, I think I found it already."

#hhdduegjeh them #I love them so much you have no idea #terzo #cardinal terzo #papa emeritus iii #omega ghoul #terzomega #nameless ghouls #the band ghost

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pin-k-ink · 1 month

Text

Zen’in Naoya x Reader

CW: naoya, dub-con, non-con, lots of sexual tension as usual, just naoya being naoya

Naoya had always been prideful of his belongings. Everything had to be perfect, elegant and expensive. He would take great pride in choosing these belongings himself. And he knew he'd always choose perfectly. The interior designer he picked for his study? Perfect. His room, clothes, food and even his cursed technique were flawless too. He was absolutely perfect in every way. But the most beautiful and perfect possession he had chosen by far, had to be you.

You were just eighteen when Naoya took you off the streets and conditioned you to be the perfect maid for him. As long as you were around, he didn't have to lift a single finger. And that's exactly how he liked it. Over time, Naoya found himself growing surprisingly attached to you. All the stupid, dumb, cute little things you did unknowingly charmed him.

Like the way you'd press your thumbs to his nape before starting a massage. "There you go again, my pet," he purred one evening as you worked the tension from his shoulders.

"Does master prefer it elsewhere?" you asked meekly.

"Not at all. I simply enjoy your little quirks."

Or the way you'd carefully color coordinate the fruit you prepared for him each morning. "Why must you make even breakfast so aesthetic?" he chuckled.

You blinked up at him. "I aim to please, master."

He savored how you'd lean in close to help him dress for the day, letting his gaze linger over your gentle curves before growling, "Careful now, you tease. Or I may have to discipline you properly."

That evening at dinner, Naoya ordered you to pour his sake. He watched hungrily as you elegantly filled his cup, bringing it to his lips to sip. So perfectly trained. His eyes shamelessly roamed your body, coveting what little skin you showed. He'd already seen your naked form, though he'd never admit how.

Perhaps some minor uniform adjustments were in order to show off your luscious assets more...no, all those beautiful dips and curves were for his eyes alone.

Later, as you bathed him, Naoya relished your attentive ministrations. The way you dripped aromatic oils into your palms before massaging them over his taut muscles. Ah, there were those dainty thumbs pressing into the nape of his neck just as he craved. You really had memorized every inch of his body's landscape.

"Eyes closed again, pet?" he rumbled. "You know my form that well, do you?"

"However else could I fully appreciate your perfection, master?" you murmured, working lower down his back.

Soon those talented hands would explore lower still, dragging breathy approval from his lips. His beautiful temptress knew just how to enliven his senses, even through the most mundane acts of service. Soon, he wouldn't be able to resist having you properly...

Naoya exhaled a sigh as your nimble fingers kneaded along his lower back, skirting dangerously close to the towel preserving his half-hard cock. He could sense your warm breath brushing his damp skin as you worked, utterly unaware of the escalating hunger smoldering in his gaze.

"You've become quite skilled at this, pet," he rumbled in approval. "Attending to your master's every need like the perfectly obedient little plaything you are."

You made a soft noise of agreement, far too dim to recognize the implicit vulgarity lacing his words. In your naivete, you simply preened at the praise, determined to maintain your flawless service.

Trailing his eyes shamelessly over the swell of your cleavage peeking from the kimono's loose folds, Naoya's mouth curved in a cruel smirk. "Perhaps you ought to loosen these robes, my dear. To better access the full expanses of your master's form..."

Without hesitation, you promptly undid the sash at your collar, letting the garment gape open to bare your breasts and abdomen. Gods, the blank innocence on your pretty face as you exposed yourself, waiting for further instruction with such trusting oblivion.

A low growl rumbled from Naoya's throat as he drank in your naked flesh, now completely on display. Resisting the urge to simply seize and ravage you became a serrated edge against his restraint. But not yet...first he would break you properly through torturous degrees.

"Very good, pet. You're learning, He crooned in silken menace. "Now attend to the rest of me with those talented hands...and put that luscious mouth to use as well."

Inclining his body, Naoya allowed the towel to slip lower, exposing his cock fully as he regarded you with blatant expectation. "Worship your master's perfection and perhaps you'll be rewarded accordingly..."

There was the faintest furrow of confusion as you processed his demand. But your training was absolute. Swallowing your puzzlement, you simply dipped your head in acquiescence and awaited further orders to serve him as the mindlessly adoring creature he'd molded you to be.

The sight of your earnest compliance and vacant pliability made Naoya's shaft throb insistently. Soon that sordid innocence would be expertly defiled upon the altar of his selfish desires. He could already taste the exquisite rapture of physically mastering this vapid little possession of his...

#jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x reader #naoya smut #naoya x reader #naoya x reader smut #naoya zenin #naoya zenin smut #naoya zenin x reader #naoya zenin x reader smut

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ashtavula · 28 days

Note

HIII can i request some overblots react to their s/o fight with clones like in frieren after the end ????? And after their s/o wins the battle so passed out and the overblots have to take care its injury

Oh, like Land's ability, right? Though, his ability is pretty similar to Cater's...

Also, I'm going with the assumption that the reader isn't actually fighting the boys in this. You're just getting into a random fight.

Overblotters with an s/o that can use clone magic

Riddle:

-During the fight, Riddle does his best to help you, even though he's not the best at it. He's been around Cater for long enough that the clones don't faze him, but he stresses himself out trying to protect all of them since he's not sure which one is the real you. After the fight, Riddle turns to scold you for getting involved, only to see you faint. He immediately starts shrieking for help as he drags you to the infirmary.

-He blames himself for not actually being able to keep you safe as he tends to your injured body. If he was a stronger mage, then this wouldn't have happened. As he carefully reapplies your bandages, Riddle becomes determined to further improve himself, both as a mage and a partner, so that you won't have to suffer for his failures again.

Leona:

-Leona isn't actually all that worried about you during the fight. He assumes that you're more than capable of keeping yourself safe, so he focuses on ending the fight as soon as possible. He grumbles as he turns his gaze towards you, and the last thing you hear is him yell your name as you collapse.

-Once you wake up, Leona refuses to leave your side. His gaze is intense, and he mutters that you should leave all the fighting to him if you're going to lose, even with your advantage. Despite the fussing, his hand is gentle as he slowly strokes your skin, his brow furrowed. In his mind, he's berating himself for not being good enough to keep you safe.

Azul:

-Azul isn't the best in a brawl, but he's doing his best, even though he's wishing that he still had his tentacles. He's very concerned about you, even though he can see your clones throwing punches. And in the end, his worst fears are confirmed when he finds you passed out.

-He fusses over you like a worried mother as you recuperate, constantly fluffing your pillows and shooing the twins out of the room so you can rest. However, all he can think about is that he truly is a worthless octopus. If he was better, then he could have saved you. Instead, the only thing he can do is think up ways to hasten your recovery. Because the sooner you're back on your feet, the sooner he'll stop feeling like he doesn't deserve you.

Jamil:

-Jamil is well-trained, and he knows how to protect someone in a fight. However, he runs himself ragged trying to protect all of your clones. He doesn't know where the real you is, until you crumple to the ground. Jamil curses under his breath, and he scoops you up into his arms before rushing back to Scarabia.

-He's also the type of guy who scolds you for being so reckless. Really, he's just mad at himself for letting you get hurt. Jamil clicks his tongue in annoyance as he checks on your injuries, muttering about teaching the idiots who hurt you a lesson. In the end, he's an excellent caretaker, and you make a swift recovery.

Vil:

-He hates having to get his hands dirty, but Vil doesn't mind "disciplining" a rowdy group of students, especially if you're involved. Vil takes your opponents down with swift, elegant kicks and punches, and the two of you quickly take them down. Unfortunately, you end up crashing into Vil as your vision blurs, and you faint in his arms.

-You love Vil, but you wish he'd stop shoving foul potions down your throat. All of his concoctions are helping you heal, but that doesn't help the taste. He also keeps lecturing you, all with a disapproving frown on his face. However, once the bottles of medicine are empty and he's finished talking, he'll press a gentle kiss to your forehead, and he'll quietly beg you to not scare him like that again.

Idia:

-Idia's panicking, yelping for Ortho's help while he tries to avoid getting punched. Later, he'll be amazed at your clones, but right now he's trying to survive. Eventually, Ortho comes to the rescue, and the two of you win the battle. As Idia makes his way over to you, you faint, and he begins to panic all over again.

-You're kept on house arrest in his room until you finish recovering, but it's not terrible. Idia keeps you entertained, and Ortho is an excellent helper. However, Idia's brain keeps churning out miserable thoughts. He feels useless, and he worries about your injuries. As you rest, he slowly lays his head down near your shoulder, just shy of touching you. He watches you sleep, silently wishing for you to get better soon. Maybe then, he won't feel like a failure.

Malleus:

-A fight like this is mere child's play to Malleus. Of course, most of your opponents flee the moment he comes close to them. Malleus is fascinated by your clones, and it's his curiosity that makes him fail to realize that you've been injured. When you fall into his embrace, you catch a brief glimpse of gathering storm clouds as your eyes flutter shut.

-You recover quickly, thanks to Malleus' magical prowess. He spends almost all of his time protectively curled around you, murmuring apologies for what happened. Malleus seems to be fine, but it hasn't stopped raining since you got hurt. Internally, his thoughts are spiraling. For a brief moment, he thought he'd lost you. You've brought joy to his lonely world, and the thought of you dying terrifies him. As you drift off to sleep in his arms, you hear him whisper that he'll never allow anyone to harm you again.

#riddle rosehearts #riddle x reader #leona kingscholar #leona x reader #azul ashengrotto #azul x reader #jamil viper #jamil x reader #vil schoenheit #vil x reader #idia shroud #idia x reader #malleus draconia #malleus x reader #twisted wonderland #twst reader insert #twst x reader #twst

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strongheartneteyam · 9 months

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[ all credits of the Neteyam pic go to the incredibly talented @cinetrix ♡]

Champagne Problems

Part 2

Pairing: Neteyam Sully x female!human!reader

CW: neteyam is a simp for reader, black cat gf/golden retriever bf "trope", a whole lot of angst, beach party, use of alcohol, some romantic comedy vibes, neteyam acting a bit cocky lol, reader is a tiny bit of a meanie towards neteyam, sexual language, sexual content, reader is a bit antisocial, flirting, emotionally unavailable bc of trauma reader, unrequited love (neteyam is the one having the unrequited feelings), sexual tension, commitment issues, exophilia, size kink, interspecies relationship, bad words. Hit me up to lemme know if I forgot something ahaha

Reader is slightly older than Neteyam, for only 2 years.

Neteyam and Reader (AI Art)

Do you guys remember the story inspired by Champagne Problems by Taylor Swift that I promised like ages ago? Well... The first part is here? 🤓 A lot of people seemed to be excited to read this when I posted that sneak peak. Hope you guys like it! kiss kiss 💗

Slightly proofread.

Part 1 : Say Yes to Heaven

𓇼

If you dance, I'll dance

And if you don't, I'll dance anyway

Give peace a chance

Let the fear you have fall away

I've got my eye on you

(...)

Say yes to Heaven, say yes to me

Say Yes To Heaven (Lana Del Rey)

𓇼

"It's not like you're not gonna break me in half if we try to get down and dirty." You laugh a bit too much, the alcohol invading your brain slowly, making you care less and less about behaving in a "socially acceptable" way. Though you wondered if your not-a-bit-elegant-honesty mattered at all to Neteyam Sully, the na'vi boy sitting in the maroon leather couch, by your side, his huge size making the couch look ridiculously small. He was na'vi, after all. Totally different culture. The na'vi were way more upfront about their real thoughts and feelings.

Neteyam had been talking loudly, almost yelling, at your ear for the past 40 minutes, trying to make his voice sound louder than the party's music, so you could hear him try to convince you to hook up with him. As if the loud uplifting songs that echoed in the salty air of that Metkayina beach were not enough to bug your tired head, now you had Neteyam helping your headache get worse.

"That doesn't mean you can't let me take you home. Or even let me make you my mate, eventually, if we end up falling in love while we fuck under the starry sky. You might like laying with me in my hammock and letting me pleasure you more than you think. Maybe you'll want to be my girl once you get a taste of this na'vi spice" He was joking around with you while flirting.

His thick, muscular but still fleshy thighs were spread on the sofa way too much to your liking. It was almost like he was trying to show you how masculine or desirable - some bullshit like that - he was. You know, that kind of thing a lot of guys usually do when trying to seduce you.

You knew Neteyam was aware he was handsome, that his body was attractive. He had always had girls - na'vi and human - all over him since he was a teen, drooling over his beauty.

But if he thought his loverboy flirting that must have worked so easily with just way too many girls before was gonna work that easily with you, he was mistaken.

Okay, you had to admit he was being pretty insistent, though. Neteyam had been there for almost an hour already. You did not understand what was making him insist that much on you if you had an armor as impenetrable as the one of a human warrior of the Middle Ages, back on Earth. And those armors were really hard to get under.

"Listen" you took a last big sip of your champagne and put the glass cup on the wooden table next to the sofa "When you gonna give up, honey? It's not gonna work. I'm not hooking up with you." You looked him in the eyes.

Goddamn, were his orbs big compared to the ones of a human.

They were beautiful, though.

Damn, (y/n)! Focus, girl!

"I'm known among my people for being disciplined, focused and getting what I want because I fight hard for it. You're my focus now, tawtute." (human) I'm not giving up on you. You're like my Ikran. You're wild and hard to get but I'll conquer you, sevin tawtute." (pretty human) "On the first try."

"Cocky much?" You smirked and shook your head in disapproval "No, but, seriously, Neteyam, are you out of your mind? Have you forgotten about tsaheylu? I don't have a neurological queue, babe. I know I have many braids in my hair," You pointed out your hairstyle "but they're all regular human braids. None of them have little tendrils on its tip. Sorry, Neteyam. We're Romeo and Juliet. And Juliet doesn't even love Romeo in this story. You're deemed to heartbreak." You said, like you could not care less about his attempts to win you over, sipping on your sparkling champagne, that went down your throat comfortably, making you feel cozy and safe. It wasn't gonna work, anyway.

You liked champagne a bit too much... you had to admit it was very possible that you had a bit of a drinking problem. Alcohol made you feel warm inside. In an emotional way too. It felt like someone was hugging you, when you would not let many real people hug you because you just were not exactly enthusiastic about having physical contact with just anyone. You only let your closest friends and some family members, like your little sister, hug you.

Some people would often call you "cold" and say that you acted "like a queen, above everyone else", behind your back, but that could not be further from the truth. You actually hated how low your actual self steem was.

"Why don't you look at Munì?" You mentioned the curvy, tall, blue eyed Metkayina girl who clearly had a mad crush on Neteyam. She was incredibly pretty. Nobody could deny that. "She has been drooling over you ever since you got here. Give the poor girl a chance. She's such a cutie. If I liked girls, I'd easily do her. Look at those beautiful, long, toned legs. Look at her wide hips. Damn, she's yummy!" you were drinking too much, your honesty getting way too out there.

"I don't want her. I want you." He spoke, like he really meant it. "My hammock will be hanged between those two big trees you like to collect fruits from. I'll be waiting for you, if you want to meet me."

With that last line being said, Neteyam got up from the sofa and walked away, swiftly finding his younger brother Lo'ak and tapping on his back, like men usually do. Both brothers started what looked like an interesting conversation.

You were left alone wondering how Neteyam could say those words and walk away so nonchalantly.

"Phew! I thought he'd never leave, girlie." Adeline screamed, coming closer to you.

She was your best friend. You guys knew way too much about each other, but that only drove you closer and made you two have a beautiful bond that felt unbreakable. She was one of the few people in the world you trusted with many of your secrets. But not even she knew everything about you. Yes, talk about trust issues…

"God, I was about to call his sister to take him away! Kiri is much more chill and quiet compared to her siblings. She's a sweetheart." You said, finally letting your guard down and being able to relax your body language, laying back on the couch and resting your bare feet on the wooden dark brown table in front of you

𓇼

You cursed yourself while you walked towards Neteyam's big light brown hammock, hanged between two big beautiful trees that reminded you of the Palm Trees that used to exist on Planet Earth.

Why were you doing that, anyway?

"Tawtute! You came." Neteyam smiled, relief all over his face

You sighed.

"Yeah, but I'm still wondering why I did."

"Ouch!" He put his huge four fingered hand on his chest and frowned, like he was in pain

You rolled your eyes at him.

"Stop that, silly." Crossing your arms, you walked towards the big tropical tree in front of his hammock but still a little far

"Hey! Where are you going?" Neteyam almost screamed as you were already further away from him than you should be if you were actually gonna have sex with him

It was like you were running away from and showing up to the "job" at the same time. Go figure out.

You rested your back against that large tree, feeling the rough edges of the wood harassing your skin.

Neteyam was already almost there where you were. His long na'vi legs helped him walk faster than you anticipated.

Neteyam got next to you. You felt a little fear but a bit of excitement, simultaneously, when you realized your head only reached his hip.

Fuck, he was a giant next to you… why the hell did that turn you on?

"Are you afraid of me, yawntutsyìp?" (little loved one) Neteyam said in a lewd, low voice as you looked at him, feeling like a pathetic little ant looking up at a human

Was that how ants felt?

"No, silly, I'm not." You looked away from him and tried to focus on the way the eclipse had beautiful violet and blue tones

That almost worked. If it wasn't for Neteyam using his huge alien hand to stroke your hair softly.

"You're so pretty, tawtute." You could feel his gaze directed at you, you could feel his heat burning your skin. The desire he felt for you was almost freaking tangible.

You kept your eyes on the stars.

"You're not gonna look at me, yawntutsyìp? Lemme see those pretty eyes, hmm?" Fuck, he was turning you on so much, your pussy felt good already and there was a tight knot forming in your lower belly. How did he do that to you with so little effort?

You looked up at Neteyam's face, your neck hurting. You did not expect to see a big bulge under his navy blue loincloth, though. Neteyam was so huge you could not help staring and your face totally betrayed your surprise.

"C'mon, I wanna feel your tiny body on mine." He paused and his big blue hand traced your collarbone and your shoulders "You're so small, tawtute… Hmmm…" he let out something between a moan and a growl "So soft too." Neteyam squeezed your arm, feeling your soft human flesh against his slender fingers "I love how different from na'vi girls you are. I'm so lucky to have you all to myself tonight."

Your breath was now labored and your pussy was soaked. Your poor panties were all wet.

"I'm dying to squeeze those titties. They look incredibly soft. But I won't do anything that intimate before you say "yes" first, yawntutsyìp."

•

Taglist:

@yeosxxx (u asked to be tagged in all my writings so I'm tagging u here hehe)

Comments are very welcome. I love all of you who take time to read my writings ♡ Thank you all so much from the bottom of my heart. If you wanna be added to the taglist, just leave a comment down below <3

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