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animemensblog · 9 months

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Invisible

Gojo x gn!reader

Summary: what happens when Gojo meets someone who is immune to his six eyes?

No warnings :)

It was a hot day, sun beaming down and causing sweat to build along your hairline. Your headphones weren't helping with the soft muff cupping your ear and rubbing against your skin. Although it's tolerable in the shade, that means nothing when you decided today all your errands would be done by walking or train.

As you turn the corner you notice a small convenient store with a huge sign advertising 'buy one get one' on all cold items during the summer. The choices were clear; spend more money to cool off or finish walking home and die the second you enter your no ac apartment.

When you opened the store door you could feel the vibration of the bell and a faint ringing that seemed to last forever. Your feet were sore but weren't dragging, they almost felt like they were floating. You reach down in the fridge, grabbing water and a juice. The condensation quickly dripped off your hands and onto the ground, as the drop falls it splatters and hits your leg.

You stare at the water dropping towards your ankle, soaking a part of your sock. It quickly becomes uncomfortable, and what better way to ignore it other than changing your playlist?

You start shuffling to the counter, standing behind a tall white haired man waiting in line. As it moves forward, you can hear the cashier and the customer talking very loudly. As if their heads are against your chest and yelling into it, the vibrating and thumping echoed in your lungs and stomach.

As you click on a new song, an awkward laugh in front of you erupts, shortly after the stranger turned around and hit you. His arms had swung and threw you to the ground, along with your drinks and phone which managed to disappear. When you look up he's standing there, staring like he saw a ghost, his eyes were blown wide and his mouth partially agape.

At first, you thought he was just shocked. I mean, wouldn't you be if you hit someone to the ground? Then, you noticed your shorts slid down your thighs, revealing the rather brightly colored underwear peaking through. Your legs shut as you stand up, giving him a nasty glare and a meek "pervert".

Gojo on the other hand can't grasp how he didn't notice you, or even hear you behind him. His six eyes are supposed to help him, right? So how did he miss you approaching, standing there for minutes and managed to throw you to the ground? It didn't make sense.

"I'm not a pervert" Gojo says as he follows you around the store

"Your stalking says otherwise"

His pace picks up so he's less than a foot behind you, "ha! I bet you wish that's what I was doing!" He says, striking a small pose in hopes you'd notice. "Really, I just want to make sure you're ok-"

You turn around, almost chest to chest. Usually he'd be excited someone so pretty came so close but that look said maybe he shouldn't be happy. "Leave me alone" you spit before going back to searching, he watches as you turn into the isle to the right and follows.

"I can help you, ya know! I've been told my sight is the best" he boasts, turning into the isle he saw you go into.

"Really? Because you didn't see me at all before" you mumble behind him, once again he quickly turns around to find you kneeling.

"How are you doing that?" His tone had switched, it sounded like he was worried, concerned. Almost upset.

"Kneeling?" You question

"No! That's not what-" He shakes his head and sighs, they're just a normal person he thinks to himself. "Nevermind" he sighs again, then went back to looking for your drinks.

You think finally, he's gonna leave me alone. Thats until he's yelling for you from another isle, "ohhh strangerrrr!" He says dramatically, "I found your drinksss!" You can see him waving his lanky arms over the shelving.

"Most annoying man I've ever met, and I've known him less than an hour. This is some bullshit for an already bullshit day.." you continue mumbling as you almost stomp to the other side.

When you turn the corner, he's still waving his arms. He truly looked ridiculous with that big ass smile, jumping up and down like he's done the impossible. You sharply inhale before getting a running start- if he isn't going to acknowledge you when you're in the same isle, you'll just have to get it back on your own.

Despite how loud the impact of your feet was, to everyone else they were silent like paper landing completely flat on tile floor. You jump up as soon as he comes down and yank the bottles from his hands then landing before you hit the fridges. The only sound anyone else heard was you landing- the running, deep breaths and mumbling had gone unnoticed.

For a third time, the Gojo Satoru couldn't see or hear you. You. A normal person he just happened to run into while he was picking up snacks for himself, Geto and Shoko.

"You're quite annoying, you know that?" You ask as you make your way back down the isle towards the counter. Gojo doesn't realize when he started walking, gravity was just pulling him towards you. It was screaming that he needed to know who you are, how you operate, every detail a human can possibly know about themselves. More specifically, he wants to know if you're good or bad, if you're loyal or untrustworthy, if you're single or taken.

He marches up beside you with (and you hate to admit it) a charming and bright smile. He nudges your hands out of the way and pays the cashier, then turns to you and only gives you one of the bottles.

"You can have the other one later!" He says smuggly before snatching his receipt from the guys hand.

"You're a cute couple" the worker says.

"What? Ew no" you argue while leaving Gojo at the counter. He's embarrassed to say the least and only shrugs as he follows you, again.

He silently, and blindly, followed you halfway back to your apartment before you turned around to acknowledge him. "Are you actually a stalker or something?" He takes a step closer to hover over you, placing a tiny flick to your forehead.

"How are you going to hear my answer if you're wearing those headphones?" He softly asks

"I can hear perfectly fine, unlike you." Your eyes narrow at him and he chuckles. That gentle laugh has your heart skipping a beat or two.

He hums as he opens your water and takes a gulp. "Hey! That's mine you creep" you say as you try to grab it.

"I'm not a creep!" He laughs, raising his arm above his head.

"You wouldn't be following me if you weren't" you say inbetween jumps.

He once again avoids the question, this time by walking around you. "Where we heading?" He asks

"I'm heading home, you're leaving me alone."

"Aw why can't I come?" He pouts, you scoff at him while you cross the street.

"Isn't it obvious? You're a strange man following me like a lost puppy. Of course you don't belong in my house."

"But I want to go!" Gojo whines

"Why?"

Why does he want to, he wonders, is there even an appropriate answer?

"I wanna know you" he mumbles as he looks down at you, waiting to see your reaction. He imagined it as cute, sweet maybe, instead your eyebrows are furrowed and you looked mad. And yet, you let him follow you. In silence, of course.

Your mom did say make friends. I mean, she never said bring strangers into your home, especially when they borderline harassed you. But you can't shake him off, plus he's seems nice? However nice someone can be after bothering and assaulting you.

You turn onto your street and stop, "how do I know you're not going to hurt me?" Your voice sounded weak to him, even softer than when you called him a pervert earlier.

"Why would I hurt you?"

"Why would you wanna get to know me?"

He chuckles, "why wouldn't I?"

You wanted to gag. What was this, a love sitcom?

"I'll tell you what-" you take a deep breath, "I'll give you my number and if I decide you're not a creep, or a pervert or a stalker, or-"

"I get it" he says as he rubs the back of his neck

"If I somehow decide you're not any of those things, I guess we can hangout."

"Hangout?! It'd be a date!"

You pull out a pen from your bag and grab his arm, "Just because you're not a disgusting man, doesn't mean I'll go out with you. It just means you can get to know me, like you said."

"Yeahh but I meant like I'd take you out to dinner or something."

"Then tell me that." you chuckle, a sound that was music to his ears.

"I'd like to take you out to dinner, or something."

"You're weird" you laugh and walk away, when you hear him following you shooed him away and disappeared down a small alley.

When Gojo looks down at his arm, ready to immediately put it in his phone, he sees '9-1-1' and "get help <3" written.

#jujutsu gojo #gojo satoru #jjk gojo #gojo x reader #gojo saturo #jjk x reader #gojou satoru x reader #jjk satoru #satoru

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skipper1331 · 6 months

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Pain // Jessie Fleming

a/n: based off this request.

The day started off normal.

You woke up with arms wrapped around your torso as the sweet voice of your girlfriend wished you a good morning, serval loving kisses pressed to your cheek after.

You ate breakfast with her which she had made for you - your favorite.

Drove to the Chelsea facility, the girl with her hand on your thigh as the two of you sang to the songs coming from the radio.

Everything seemed normal, like it usually would.

Jessie was the sweetheart herself, sent you loving smiles across the pitch, held your hand every second she could and talked to you at each appropriate opportunity.

The normal ended when you heard a cry of pain. You knew that voice.

Jessie.

Frantically, you looked around, just to be met with the sight of Jess on the ground, holding her ankle. Your partner drill with Guro long forgotten as your legs worked without a second thought. You ran to her, Melanie and Niamh already next to her while Erin apologized.

Within seconds, you were at her side, kneeling down next to her as the medics arrived at the same time.

"What hurts?" one of them asked while you wiped away the sweaty hair out of her face.

"Left ankle" she gritted through her teeth, the medic feeling the ankle with some specific hand movements. She winced each time, gripping your hand as she tried to contain herself while you mumbled sweet nothings in her ear.

Helping her up, the medics supported her to the physio room, her face scrunching up in pain every now and then.

Training ended for you as well, you couldn’t concentrate anymore - you had to know how Jess was doing, what the matter was with her ankle.

"Can I come in?" you asked softly, slowly opening the door as you waited a few minutes for the physios to do their checks. "Is that okay?" the medic asked as he looked at Jessie, the girl already with her eyes on you, smiling dopey at you.

"Yeah" she made a grabby hand towards you, signaling you to come close. "It‘s sprained" the midfielder told you softly as she giggled.

"She‘s high on pain killers" the man chuckled as he gave you further instructions.

Rest.

At home, you made her favorite food as she sat on the couch, leg prompted up on the armrest.

"Baby!" she whined, "I miss you"

"I‘m cooking" you called, to which she grumbled.

Not getting the reaction she wanted she hoisted herself off the couch and hobbled into the kitchen to you. "What are you doing?!" you screeched as you saw her walking, "you need to rest"

"I told you I miss you" she muttered, your arms going around her waist as you supported her weight so she would not hurt her ankle any further, "you ignored that"

"Well, I told you I’m cooking" you smiled.

"But-"

"No buts" you shushed her with your finger, gently picking her up and placing her on the kitchen counter. As you were about to step away, wanting to continue your cooking the Canadian wrapped her arms around your neck, legs hugging your waist as she pulled you close, "why are you ignoring the fact that I miss you?" she pouted, finger tracing along the nape of your neck which made you blush and nervous in result.

"I‘m making sure, you‘re well fed" you mumbled, smiling shyly.

"Love me after dinner?"

"Love you always" you squished her cheeks before you could finally return to your cooking. The midfielder watched you as her eyes shone with hearts, you were everything - more than that.

Even though Jess‘ ankle hurt, seeing you take care of her in every possible way made all her pain wash away in an instant. All she would ever need at her side to feel better was you.

After dinner you loved her as she requested. You cuddled her, pressed multiple kisses along her face so she would giggle and looked after her ankle.

If she was thirsty? You would get it.

If she graved a snack? No worries, she would have them right by her side a second later.

"Maybe I should be in pain more often" the girl grinned, her head resting on your chest as you massaged her scalp.

"What did you say?" frowning, you propped your arm up, leaning over her as she looked innocently at you. "Mh?" you nudged her, your other hand leaving her scalp. "You love me now so much more when I’m in pain, doing everything for me" she smiled, her hand reaching up to cup your cheeks, heart eyes looking at you, "you‘re amazing" she whispered.

"You do not say something like that!" you grumbled, muttering under your breath how unbelievable she was being.

"Are you telling me I don‘t love you enough when you‘re not in pain?"

"Hmmm, yes" she replied, trying to hide her smile as you hovered over her.

Mumbled yet smiling, "you cheeky girl" before your head dipped down to kiss along her cheeks. Her arms wrapped around your neck, happily accepting your loving kisses, "you love me more than enough" she declared when you pulled away, "and I couldn‘t be happier. You make me the happiest woman, everyday"

This time it was her who reached up to you, connecting your lips as her heart raced - it always did when you kissed.

It was safe to say that Jess did enjoy the extra attention but neither could she complain. You loved and cherished her in every possible way at every hour of the day and she‘ll forever be grateful for it.

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#jessie fleming #jessie fleming x reader #woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso #canwnt #canwnt x reader #chelsea wfc #chelsea x reader #chelsea women #erin cuthbert #niamh charles #melanie leupolz

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sassyjoy · 10 months

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private party

genre: smut

pairing: joy x chanyeol (exo)

word count: 1.3k

⋆｡˚ ⋆ ☾

"quiet, baby. your boyfriend will hear you." chanyeol whispers to joy's ear before continuing to kiss her neck. his hands traveled down to her curves and down to her butt. joy can't seem to be still; lust is evident in her eyes. she just wants to get laid right now.

it was joy's birthday. crush, her boyfriend, threw a party for his girlfriend to celebrate the special day with close friends. who would've thought joy would see chanyeol here, her ex-boyfriend, and to be fair, crush didn't even know that joy has a past with one of his closest friends in the industry.

joy and chanyeol's split up was a mutual decision. they thought it would be best to just break up since they rarely meet each other due to their busy schedules. weeks after that separation, they met again in an event held by their company and that's when they've decided to occasionally meet up for sex. even though joy has a new boyfriend, she can't stop meeting her ex. chanyeol, on the other side, can't also let her go because sex with his ex-girlfriend was too good to let go.

chanyeol lifted joy up to the sink and reached for the hem of her pink silk dress, and yanked it up to her waist. to his surprise, she's wearing the underwear he bought overseas for their concert. red definitely looks good on her, he thought. but he pulled it down to her ankles since she looks better without any undergarment on. joy spread her legs wide for chanyeol to have an access on her shaved pussy.

"chanyeol..." joy lurched when she felt the man's hot breath in her cunt. chanyeol wrapped his arms around her thighs before burying his mouth to her pussy. he maintained eye contact with joy as he swiped his tongue on her core. joy has been thinking how good it would feel to have chanyeol's head between her legs since she saw chanyeol this evening. she noticed that he changed his hair color back to black, and for her, he looks the best in this color even though her boyfriend has the same dark hair. her lust for him grew even more when she remembered how hot her ex-boyfriend was in their new music video for their comeback.

crush would definitely be mad if he sees this view of his friend kneeling to eat his girlfriend out in the restroom. joy pushed chanyeol's head closer to her pussy. his nose being in contact with her sensitive core makes her go crazy. she can't get enough of this sensation.

joy's moans are getting louder so chanyeol get up to kiss her. their lips moved in sync, lusting over each other. chanyeol wanted to leave a mark on her so bad, but he chose not to. he was eager to fuck joy and it is apparent in his actions towards her. he inserted his huge hands inside her dress to squeeze her well-rounded breasts, causing her to open her mouth. chanyeol took this chance to suck her tongue.

chanyeol pulled out of the kiss to unzip his pants. he was about to put a condom on when joy stopped him.

"i want you raw. just like the last time. please." joy begged. she loves it raw with chanyeol. joy wanted to feel every inch of his ex-boyfriend's dick inside her. she wanted him to not be careful with her since crush uses a condom whenever they're having sex.

chanyeol helped joy to go down from the sink. he made her turn her back at him, making joy see their reflection in the mirror. he slowly inserted his hard cock in her hole, causing her to gasp. this is the thing he misses the most when they're away from each other. the way she clenches around his cock. her image of being fucked from behind. the way she's playing with her own nipples as he continues to fill her. chanyeol loves every bit of it.

it's a good thing that there's a loud music playing outside since the sounds of moaning and skin slapping won't be heard. joy was leaning her back on chanyeol's broad chest as he shoves his cock into her. chanyeol ducked his head, burying his face in the crook of her neck. he continues to thrust with force inside her ass, showing no signs of wearying.

"you're so fucking tight." chanyeol rumbled. he pulled joy's dress down from the neckline to free her bouncing breasts. his warm hands caught her soft breasts and gave them a tight squeeze. moans passing joy's mouth didn't stop.

"you like my dick that much, huh?" chanyeol smirked as he saw joy's reflection in the mirror getting fucked behind. her dress was all wrinkled. her hair was all over her face and is far from being straight. her sweat dripping from her forehead. she looked like a mess, but chanyeol didn't really care. she still looks lovely to him.

"fuck... please fuck me harder." joy said breathlessly when chanyeol nibbled her earlobe.

since it's her birthday, chanyeol obliged her request. his hands traveled down to her waist to be in control and began thrusting his pelvis even harder. joy bit her lower lip, but that didn't stop her from drooling. chanyeol stared at joy's face down to her chest with his eyes full of sexual desire. chanyeol was about to kiss joy when someone knocked on the door.

"chanyeol? i saw you entered here earlier! are you still there?"

it was crush. joy was so surprised that she covered her mouth, afraid that her boyfriend outside the door will hear her whine. she squeezed chanyeol's hand on her waist, signaling him to stop, but he just continued to fuck her ass as if no one's outside.

"y-yeah?" chanyeol answered.

"are you okay there?" crush asked, but instead of answering him, chanyeol pound joy's ass in a rush, causing joy to grip the sink, and biting her lip harder so she won't make a noise. but chanyeol didn't even tried to hide it. he didn't even have the slightest ounce of concern knowing that joy's boyfriend is just outside. he didn't care if crush would hear the slapping sounds of skins inside the restroom.

"call of nature!" chanyeol said so that crush would just leave them. he finds it funny that he's fucking his friend's girlfriend. what's worse is that they're in crush's house.

"okay, just come out quickly! we're slicing the cake once joy comes back!" joy's eyes widened upon hearing her name. the two then heard a knock again from crush, indicating he's leaving. once the boyfriend left the area, joy moaned as she can't suppress the sensation any longer.

"fuck, i'm cumming!" joy moans, making chanyeol grasp firmly on her hips to control his pace. every thrust hits her spot that makes her go crazy. he felt her clench around his cock and with few more pumps she exploded. but chanyeol didn't stop there.

"you take me so well." chanyeol slaps her butt causing her to whine. he yanked her hair downwards as he slams his dick deep inside her. he kisses her cheek before pulling out his cock, then hot spurts of cum were released. joy was feeling weak, so chanyeol helped her clean the cum dripping from her pussy.

"what the fuck are you doing?" joy asked when she saw the male kneeling before her.

"cleaning your mess." he answered before licking the white sticky substance in her inner thighs. he maintained eye contact with her, like he always does, but joy shut her eyes tightly. chanyeol followed the trail of her cum on her legs with his tongue. joy was gripping her dress as if her life's depended upon it.

joy released a sigh upon the lost of contact with chanyeol's mouth on her legs, making the latter chuckle.

"why? do you want more?" chanyeol teases her as he wiped the corner of his lips. joy just rolled her eyes at him and he just laughed at her reaction. when the two were done fixing their clothes and erasing their sex traces, chanyeol left the restroom first. he said he'll try to divert the guests' attention so that joy can leave the area, earning no suspicions from people.

#girl group x male reader #joy smut #kpop smut #park sooyoung smut #red velvet joy smut #joy x male reader #girl group smut #red velvet smut #irene smut #seulgi smut #wendy smut #yeri smut #kim yerim smut #son seungwan smut #bae joohyun smut #kang seulgi smut #girl group scenarios #kpop fic #kpop smut fic

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nikkialena · 2 months

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That Time I Got Reincarnated As A Demon In Demon Slayer...

A heavy sigh falls from your lips as you balance on a single beam of metal hundreds of feet off the ground, you tilt and sway playing a morid game of chance. High up on the rooftops of luxury-end buildings, at a party where you don't belong. It's a beautiful night in May, so you're wearing a short black dress that reaches almost all the way down your thighs. Your long hair is flowing around you like silk in the breeze. There are several people on balconies looking at the view, but they aren’t paying attention to you.

As per usual, you could jump right now, and they probably wouldn't even bat an eye. That's how it's always been, nobody ever noticed you unless they wanted something, and even then it was more like a passing interest rather than genuine curiosity. You didn't really have friends here, or even acquaintances. You just existed....which is why you decided to play this game, see how long you walk on this tiny little beam before the wind knocks you off, you wobble and fall, or until you make it to the other side. But even if you made it to the other side you'd still need to cross it again, no one would miss you if you were gone anyway.....no family no friends, no purpose, you were just another face in the crowd none probably even knew your name. Just another nobody dreaming of doing something great but became stunted by student loans, anxiety issues, and a crippling sense of inadequacy. You can barely do anything right. So maybe in death people will notice....maybe people will change, and become better.

And if it takes a sacrifice then so be it, with a heavy sigh place one foot in front of the other...but your ankles buckle and your body tumbles off the side sending you free-falling. The wind whips your hair into your face and the cold air chills you to the bone. For a second it feels....almost euphoric, you feel right and weightless in a way that you never had in life. As you plummet to the ground you close your eyes, the last thing to reach your ears being a soft shout of "Y/N". Look at that someone did know you're name, when you hit the ground you expect pain. But it never comes, instead, the ground feels soft...nothing like a city sidewalk should feel.

There's no honking cars or horrified passerby's screaming either so you open your eyes, looking around confused instead of the city streets of L.A. you find yourself in a lush forest. It almost seems familiar but you don't really know from what. You can just barely make out the sound of voices speaking above you, everything's blurry and unfocused as your eyes try and adjust to the dark, you feel yourself being hoisted up by a set of strong arms you're cradled gently, and being moved. "A-....yo- ight?" The voice calm and deep speaks but it's like your brain was scrambled all you could make out was a blur of blue eyes and inky black hair, "I-I'm fine" you manage to stutter as you blink a couple of times to settle your eyes.

Looking up you saw a beautiful man with pale skin, he was looking down at you with glass eyes, so beautiful yet so....impassive. You were momentarily stunned, so much so that you didn't hear him asking you a question..."Are you injured he asked" and you slowly shook your head. "Um" is all you utter before he notices the trail of blood spilling down your face, "that's a nasty head wound...I know someone who can help hold on". You try and do as he says, but you find yourself slipping from consciousness as your head became light. A sharp pain in your head startles you awake, and your eyes flutter rapidly as you try and make sense of everything. The man from before is gone, and you find yourself kneeling in a circle with six other people. Only they weren't normal people, not by a long shot, one of them the closest was tall with flowing ash blonde hair and the most peculiar Iridescent eyes, his smile was wide but.....not friendly it was predatory in nature.

"Y/N-chan Y/N-chan falling asleep while the Masters talking, how rude" he spoke in a low tone while he crawled towards you. Your lips parted briefly to respond when suddenly your face was splattered with warm crimson spray, as another one of the people kicked the other male's head clean off. You flinch at the sudden display of aggression and furiously try and wipe the blood from your face as the new male was grappled by another one and forced into a kneeling position, "Akaza......Douma....the Master has called us here for important matters, not another one of your senseless battles. Handle your issues later and stop interrupting" the tallest of the three males spoke glaring down at you with his six golden eyes.

"Am I boring you?" A smooth accented voice emerged from the darkness, you felt your lungs constrict as you took in the ethereal beauty of the man before you, he had piercing crimson eyes that seemed to glow in the dimly lit room. A strong jaw that could cut glass sat under a flawless pale complexion with long wavy black hair that framed his face elegantly, it flowed down his back like ink spilling off a pen. Even his clothes were elegant, he had an expensive leather vest over a white button-up long-sleeve shirt, black slacks, and chestnut brown loafers. He slowly strode towards you, lips set in a line and brows furrowed as he glared at you as if you were an....oddity.

He gingerly lifted your face with his thumb and forefinger to inspect you closer, taking in every detail of you with a slight tilt of his head. After a painstakingly long minute that felt like an eternity, he murmured, "I....didn't make you...who are you?" You opened your mouth to speak when suddenly his touch became cruel, grabbing a handful of your [H/C] and in one swift movement yanked your head clean from your shoulders. He tossed your head aside like discarded trash as you gasped at your own body. Panic-stricken, tears well up in your eyes as you stared down at your own severed body, then up at him. He simply wipes his hand with a white handkerchief shrugging his shoulders and not even sparing you a glance "actually I don't care" is the last word you hear him speak before your eyes close. Your body lurches up and out of bed as you frantically grasp at your neck, sobbing and gasping for breath, you hit the floor and scramble into a corner eyes bouncing around the room as you try and piece together what just happened.

Yet again you're in a different place, this time what appears to be a dimly lit infirmary, the sound of footsteps reigns in your senses as you look around for a weapon and settle on a glass vase. Dumping out its contents, you ready the vase and hide behind the door waiting until you see the first footstep through the door. With as much strength as you can muster, you slam the glass vase over the head of the black-haired man you saw before, he stumbled a little bit clutching his head and you immediately feel remorseful, "I-I'm so sorry" you whisper helping him to his feet only to be startled by a strange creature with body of a boy but the head of a boar charging into the room and running on all fours straight at you.

You instinctively pick up a glass shard and stab it before leaping out of the window, you slip and slide down the hillside before breaking into a full-on sprint. Where are you going, you're not sure but all you know is you want to put some distance between you and whatever that thing was. Although you don't make it far because you're not exactly in shape, huffing and puffing you come to a stop at a babbling river leaning down to drink some of the cool water when you see something moving in the reflection. You pick up a sharp and toss it over your shoulder but the man from before catches it, "easy...if you move too much you could reopen your wounds" he spoke calmly slowly approaching you with his hands held out in front of him.

"S-stay back," you say taking shakey steps back, "you're hurt...you should be resting" he continued "I said get back" you shout weakly tossing another rock at him which he easily dodged. "You're hurt and confused you need to rest" he spoke softly stepping into the moonlight, as the light encased him you recognized him from somewhere, but you weren't exactly sure where.

But Before you could put your metaphorical finger on where, you were tackled from the bushes by the strange boar man and your head hit the floor landing on a rock and sending you right back to unconsciousness. Once again you woke up in a new place, this time somewhere in a forest. You stumble around aimlessly lost and confused until you misstep and fall face-first into a river, you flair about uselessly as the cold current hits your face and numbs you instantly. Splashing about as you try and fight against the current but you can't swim...and you'd never bothered to learn to because you were too insecure about your weight to wear swimsuits throughout the practice, but now you're struggling for your life trying desperately to float or stay on the surface.

But the current proves to be too strong, and you're swept down the river like a ragdoll. Your arms and legs scrap against rocks and sharp thorns and eventually give way under the pressure of the current, you let out a muffled gasp before your body disappears beneath the surface of the water. However, as you sink below into the murky depths what looked like a thin black whip with a bone-like claw at the end plunged into the water.

Coiling around your waist hoisting you out of the water and carelessly dropping you on the bank, you gasp aloud coughing up water and sputtering softly as your hands slowly drag yourself further up the most muddy river bank and away from the cold river water. "I see we meet again, I thought your scent smelt familiar..... you're a peculiar one huh?" A familiar voice spoke as you gazed up at the crimson-eyed man that had ripped your head off, "I-It's you" you wheezed rubbing your throat and drinking in air like it was your last.

"W-who are you?" You ask slowly repositioning yourself into a seated position as he glares down at you "I should be asking you that, I have no recollection of you, and yet my demons seem to". He pondered to himself pacing slowly, but your eyes were too busy tracking the whip-like tentacle slowly remerging with his body, what the hell was that? You thought and he peered over his shoulder at you, "It's one of my arm whips I have a question for you now, who are you, and where did you come from?" "That's two questions" you mumble and he glared at you, in the blink of an eye that same whip lashed out at you quick as light and you just barely managed to dodge. The whip effortlessly fell the tree behind you, then circled back around to wrap around your throat and yank you closer. The sharp tip prodes uncomfortably into the flesh of your chin as he stares deep into the very depths of your soul.

"Do I look like the kind of man that enjoys repeating myself?!" He yelled and you could taste the iron tang of blood on your tongue as his whip tightened around your throat painfully. "I-I'm.... f-from California.... L. A." you squeak and he releases his grip, taking a step back as he gently rests his head in his palm. "I've never heard of that place" he muttered to himself, "where is that on the map?" He asked turning his cold gaze to you once more, but you simply rubbed your throat and coughed. "it's like on the edge of America" you wheezed and he looked puzzled again. "America?" He echoed brows furrowing slowly, "what nonsense are you talking about?"

He asked impatiently. "I've never heard of America or this" he scrunches his nose up as if disgusted "California...where did you really come from?" He hissed baring his sharp teeth, are those fangs? You whispered in the back of your mind, "yes" he snapped "Now answer my question" he growled and you flinched holding your head as if that would keep him from reading your thoughts.

"H-How are you doing that?" you murmur mystified and he loses patience pinching the bridge of his nose, before you can even blink the whip is around your neck again. There's a flicker of pain and then your head's rolling down the bank into the river as he murmurs "I have better things to do with my time than waste it on an imbecile".

The next time you wake it's in the same room as you previously were, only this time you were tied down to the bed with thick obi sashes, panic began to set in before you saw something moving in the corner of your eye. "Oh good you're awake, It's been a day I thought you were going to be comatose" a calming yet slightly raspy voice spoke, blinking the sleep from your eyes you saw it was the same man you hit on the head with a vase. You wince slightly as you see the slightly crimson-stained bandages wrapped around his head, "I'm sorry I didn't mean to hit you" you murmured softly as he looked down at you with those hauntingly blue eyes of his.

"Don't worry about that I deserved it" he replied flatly "I brought you to somewhere unfamiliar, then barged into the room without announcing my presence, I must have frightened you terribly" he spoke in such a somber tone that you felt worse.

"Um can you untie me please?" You asked softly and he hesitated for a minute before looking over his shoulder and nodding once, he then began to untie the sashes slowly as you simply watched. He was quite the handsome man, with his raven hair that spilled down his shoulders and back like spikey dark curtains framing his face making him appear even more imposing. His skin was pale like snow yet perfectly sculpted and almost ethereal in nature, complimented by his long lashes and almond-shaped eyes he was quite breathtaking. Yet he seemed sooo.....stiff and unapproachable, "thank you" you mumble rubbing your wrist and sitting up as he finished.

"My name is Giyuu Tomioka, sorry I should've introduced myself sooner" he spoke quietly "I'm Y/N L/N....w-wait did you say Giyuu....like from Demon Slayer?" Giyuu tilted his head at you brows furrowing slightly in confusion, "um" he spoke scratching his cheek "w-well I am a demon slayer....a Hashira actually...b-but I'm not from any place named demon slayer...I wasn't even aware that was a place" he murmured the last part to himself. Meanwhile, your mind was reeling, how the hell could he be Giyuu from Demon Slayer? It just didn't make any logical sense, and yet....he was an exact copy of Giyuu hoari and all....He simply looked at you confused and you stared back unsure what was going on or how to even process any of it.

But then an echo of footsteps drew your attention to the doorway, "Giyuu" a feminine voice spoke making the latter flinch "I see you've released our guest from their binds....after I specifically asked you not to" Giyuu's eyes hit the floor and he shuffled awkwardly clearly unsettled. "W-Well I thought, maybe she wouldn't freak out as much when she wakes if-", " but I didn't ask you to think" the woman speaks over him and he looks up at her for a split second like a kicked puppy then quickly averts his gaze again in a huff, "S-Shinobu" he murmured. "I don't think she's a demon", he whispered looking at you and then back to Shinobu. " Well she's certainly not human, no pulse, she wasn't even breathing till a moment ago", Shinobu speaks smiling at you but the smile is completely fake, it is obvious she doesn't like you.

As Shinobu took a step closer to you, Giyuu stepped in her path placing his hand on the hilt of his nichirnblade as she mirrored him "I don't care if she's not a demon, the first time we get a glimpse of Muzan Kibutsuji and she just happens to be around? And he didn't kill her on sight, she's either a demon an abomination or an accomplice either way she dies tonight."

You flinched back falling off the bed she lunged for you but Giyuu swiftly blonde her blade with his own kicking her in the stomach sending her sliding back on her feet, "what was even the purpose of bandaging her up then?" Giyuu asked as you stood to your feet looking at the window and debating how far you'd get if you tried to run again, "well I thought we could wrangle some questions out of her but after thinking it over, I think I'd rather see her dead".

"What the fuck!" You mutter and she looks at you with cold purple irises glaring daggers, "sorry not sorry rather be safe than sorry you may not be a demon, but what if you're something new, I'd rather squash any new threat before it begins don't you think?" Giyuu blocked yet another slash heading your way and backed you closer to the window which you were preparing to jump out of, Shinobu then glared at Giyuu "you know I'm really starting to question your loyalty to the cause, this is the second time you've defended a demon is this your subtle way of telling us something we need to know Giyuu?"

She spoke venomously while attacking relentlessly "she's not a demon...we're surrounded by wisteria if she was a demon wouldn't she be having some sort of reaction?" Giyuu tried to reason but Shinobu wasn't having any of it knocking his blade from his hand and striking at you Giyuu pushed you aside taking a slash across the eye, "Giyuu" you shout watching the blood pool down his face like a crimson mask you turn to Shinobu with a hiss somehow flinging Shinobu through the wall with a flick of your finger.

Both you and Giyuu turned to each other shocked and perplexed as Shinobu hit the wall and let out a small groan "SHE'S NOT A DEMON GIYUU?" She hissed in angry sarcasm as both you and Giyuu bolted out of the window and just ran, but you were slowing down so Giyuu scooped you up and tossed you over his shoulder.

"I-I didn't know that was gonna happen I swear" you said somewhat panicky to Giyuu as he gently set you down and peeked over the large rock to see if Shinobu was chasing, when he saw she wasn't he turned to you. "Answer me this one question" he spoke calmly "where did you come from?" He asked and you looked down at your feet, you contemplated lying to him because you really weren't sure but he was the only one who hadn't threatened you. "I-.....I-I don't know, okay I woke up in a forest I think I might've fallen from the sky, I know that sounds ridiculous but I-I swear it's the truth" you plead as tears fall from your eyes and you began to break down in sobs.

He gently rested a hand on your back and smiled gently at you, "I believe you" he murmured softly taking off his hoari and draping it over your shoulders, "why?" You asked confused wiping your tears and sniffling softly "I-I mean it happened to me and I wouldn't even believe me" , Giyuu simply washed the cut on his eye with some river water and tore a piece of his uniform off to wrap it up, "because I saw it happen" he peeked over the rock again to make sure Shinobu wasn't following once more but returned his gaze to you. "I was patrolling when you just out of nowhere fell on me from the sky, and at first I thought you were some kind of demon...but then you didn't get up, and you were injured and bleeding...and also you didn't attack me so I figured you're just a really strange person".

You feel somewhat relieved to at least have someone to rely on, but then you're struck again with the news....that somehow....you magically got transported to the world of Demon Slayer, what the hell am I supposed to do now? You thought clutching your head as Giyuu just watched you casually, "I might know someone who can help" he spoke snapping you out of your thoughts, "since when could you read minds?" You asked flabbergasted and he just tilted his head at you, "I can't I just thought you might need help, follow me" he said slowly and you tried to walk but your ankle gave out. You must have twisted your ankle while running, noticing this Giyuu offers you his back and you smile but hesitate, you're not exactly the skinniest girl...and you wouldn't want him to hurt his back so you simply shake your head "I-It's fine I'll just walk" Giyuu squinted at you before walking up to you and hoisting you up as if you weighed nothing. He then slung you onto his back where sat comfortably at his hips, slowly wrapping your legs around them and your arms around his neck, "you shouldn't push yourself when you're hurt" he spoke softly and you rested your head on his back.

Enjoying his warmth and the gentle beat of his heart as well as the soothing sound of the flowing water, it was strangely calming, "thank you Giyuu" you mumbled into his neck and his ears reddened, "don't thank me for simple things". You find yourself slowly drifting to sleep as you yet again awake in a different place, gone was Giyuu, and the forest was replaced by a bustling city herds of people walked to and fro as you stumbled about in a confused haze, out of the corner of your eye you spotted a flicker of teal and black checkered hoari. "Tanjiro" you shout and he stops in his tracks turning towards you with a scowl and placing a hand on his nichirnblade, "demon" he hisses and you flinch looking down at yourself.

You were in the body of [S/C] demoness with ivory horns spiraling out of your head, long [H/C] hair and a long thin whip-like tail. "Huh I am a demon" you murmur to yourself as Tanjiro looks at you confused, "you smell funny" he spoke and you gawked at him "well that's rude" you retorted and his brows shot up. "No I didn't mean it like that, you smell sweet and pure kinda like honey but at the same time like vinegar....I can't tell what kind of person you are".

You opened your mouth to speak when suddenly Giyuu walked up behind Tanjiro carrying...your other body, "Tanjiro" he spoke before he glared at you and gripped his nichirnblade "demon" he hissed sliding your limp body onto the ground as both he and Tanjiro took guard in front of it. "W-wait Giyuu it's me Y/N" Giyuu's brows furrowed as he looked between the limp body and back to you, he tilted his head sucking a breath between his teeth.. "Look let me prove it" you said confidently and then slapped yourself as hard as you could, but instead of passing out you just hurt yourself and looked stupid. "Oh right this body is extra durable" you took a step towards your other body but Tanjiro and Giyuu stepped forward in defense of that one, you took a deep breath and sighed "guys look, just slap that body or shake you'll see" they both looked at you skeptically but Giyuu slowly did as you said and gently shook the body.

The moment he shook the body you collapsed and woke up in the other one gasping for breathe and looking up at Giyuu, "see I told you it's me Giyuu", Giyuu's eyes widened in disbelief "t-that's.....h-" he muttered as Tanjiro too stared at you in wide eyed disbelief as well. He then proceeded to shake the demon body and your human body collapsed as you woke up in that one, "okay test ov-" you tried to say but Giyuu shook your human body and the other collapsed as you woke int that one. "Sto-" you spoke but got cut off as Tanjiro shook the demon body, "ENOUGH" you snapped and they sheepishly looked at the ground. "S-sorry" Giyuu murmured and Tanjiro apologized too, "what.....happened?" Tanjiro asked and you shrugged "I'm not sure one moment I was falling off a building-", "why were you falling off a building?" Tanjiro asked eyes widening in alarm you stiffened slightly eyes darting to the ground as you tried to think of a plausible excuse.

Reading your body language Giyuu gently rested a hand on your shoulder, "so what are you going to do now that you're here?" You take a deep breath and stare down at your feet as you curl into a ball, "I'm actually not sure" you murmur only now realizing the truth behind his words for a second you thought about doing what most people would do. Try and force change amongst the anime, but actions have consequences and who knows what would happen should you intervene with the way things are supposed to play out. But at the same time you couldn't just sit back and watch these people die, if you had the chance to safe them shouldn't you take it? You could always tell the hashira everything you know about the demons, boom pow hashira wipe the demons everyone lives happy ending.

But not for the demons, they too are victims of circumstance even Muzan, you could always tell Muzan where the blue spider lily is....after all even though he's a bit murder happy he's never been one to want to commit genocide or rule the world....you don't really know his motives besides wanting to live. And he may be twisted but he's not entirely evil, in fact, you clearly remember reading an article stating he didn't even want to create the demons....he's just doing what's necessary for survival. Isn't everyone at the end of the day? You exhale a deep breath and rub the growing headache in your temples, "I think..." you start but stop when you feel a presence in your head...Muzan is nearby, you're not sure how you know you just know.

And your thoughts when confirmed when Tanjiro visibly froze before growling, but before he could run off and chase after him you grabbed both his and Giyuu's hand "we should go" you spoke lowly "b-" Tanjiro protested but you gripped his hand tighter "I know Tanjiro I know he's here but trust me when I say, he will kill you before you can even think to grab your nichirnblade". Tanjiro fought and hissed trying to shake off your grip but he eventually conceded "but what about you're other body?" Giyuu interjected and you froze suddenly getting an intense sense of fear, Muzan stepped around the corner and your inner voice screamed run as his plume red eyes locked with yours "you again" he spoke coldly but you were already dashing away without answering him, Giyuu turned around to face him head on when you heard the familiar whistle of his whip cutting through the air.

Without thinking you pushed Giyuu out of the way and yet again your head went rolling from your shoulders, "Y/N" Giyuu shouted followed by Tanjiro's scared and panicked "MISS LADY" as you began to slip away into the other body you managed to croak out "just run". As you woke up in the other body at his feet Muzan looked at the decapitated demon's body and then down at you connecting the dots instantly, "you truly are an enigma, tell me what happens if I cut this body's head off while the other one is headless" he asked and you suddenly got a deep-seated fear "I-I'm not sure" you whsiper unable to meet his eyes "would you like to find out?"

He asked pulling your head tightly, "leave her alone" Tanjiro shouted rushing in but Muzan swatted him away with one of his arm whips without ever breaking his glare on you, his eyes then darted to Giyuu who flinched and looked towards you then Tanjiro and finally back to Muzan as if debating on what to do. He then decided to go after Tanjiro seeing as Muzan had taken no particular interest in him or Tanjiro, he offered you a pity glance before running off towards Tanjiro, leaving you to the mercy of Muzan who effortlessly scoops up both of your bodies. A strange pluck echoed out and

you found yourself being carried in an infinitely looping hall. You wanted to speak but fear had glued your tongue to the top of your mouth, you simply curled into yourself and listened to the echoing sound of his steps. As he walked you into his study he tossed your demon body on the floor, you looked down at your second body sadly but took note of how quickly it regenerated its head, "I'm going to run some tests on you" he spoke at you in a calm tone, that left little room for argument. You nodded numbly at him, his perfectly manicured nails sharpened to claws and he scratched your forearm tearing through the fleshy easily, you yelped in pain as crimson streams spilled down your wrist.

You watched him as he watched your other body for some kind of reaction but nothing happened. He then walked over to a desk pulled out a notepad and began scribbling in it, he then proceeded to continuously inflict wounds on you. Nothing life-threatening just small cuts, scraps, and incisions that would heal eventually, he seemed slightly frustrated that pain inflicted on one body couldn't be felt by the other. His brows were furrowed but his lips were neutral, as the test continued you noticed that your human body too could regenerate or heal.....just a lot slower than the demon one, but much faster than a normal human being should be capable of.

He wrote that down too, he made you swap bodies a few times by brutally slapping you across the face, and then he ran tests and diagnosis on your human body while you watched from the demon one, "it's like a shell" he murmured to himself "every time you swap bodies the other goes limp like a puppet without strings". "But unlike the human body, the demon husk moves around when you're operating the other one....how strange, it moves in the direction of your other body...I wonder why, I'm half tempted to make you switch and just watch what happens....but it's too risky I'd like to run more tests on you in the future....so I can't let you die yet. Speaking of death, it appears no matter how many times I rip off your demon head off it's body it just....continues on as if nothing's wrong...kind of like a few of my stronger demons" he murmured writing in his notebook.

As he moved to grab a different book his hand accidentally brushed your other body's breast, specifically its nipple which made your demon's body jolt up and tense momentarily. When he noticed this he tilted his head, gently grazing his finger across the human body's skin. You flinched again as you felt his warm fingers sliding along your skin, "huh" was all he murmured before slowly slipping his hands underneath the layers of your human body's kimono and giving it's nipple a flick. When you yet again flinched and let out a soft gasp he paused in his movements, "so it doesn't respond to pain, but it does respond to pleasure....interesting" he muttered, and then began to massage the other body's breast lightly.

You gasp and whimper shifting your demon body on the couch as he toys with the human one on the floor, you hide your face in the crook of your neck to try and hide the embarrassment as you try and hide the soft moans bubbling within your throat. "Maybe I've been going about this the wrong way" Muzan muttered to himself, "Instead of an aggressive approach maybe I should try...." your demon body's back arched off the couch as Muzan slowly dragged his delicate fingers down your human one's stomach, and traced the outline of your lower lips through your human body's panties.

You felt a sudden jolt of pleasure course through your entire body as Muzan's fingers slipped under the cotton fabric, peeling back your lips with two of his fingers before gingerly rubbing your human body's love nub and letting loose that first little moan from your demon body's throat. Your eyes squeezed shut feeling your breathing quicken as Muzan's fingers trailed slowly downwards until he grasped the sensitive nub and pinched it, making you let out another moan of pleasure as he then slid his middle and ring fingers inside of you.

Pumping his fingers slowly as your demon body writhed dragging your claws along the couch and shredding the soft cushion as he phantom-fingered you, "host body is responsive to stimuli inflicted on hostless body" he commented looking down at his notes."I wonder if I could perhaps replicate this" he murmured softly "could be quite useful having a second throwaway body" he murmured to himself "although, it does seem to have a weakness to pleasure...but I highly doubt anyone will be trying to jerk me off midbattle.....mmm however.....I probably should find a way around that....anyway".

He said slapping your human body and waking you up in that one, "that doesn't make any sense, you wake in the other body when you die or when I slap you but not when I inflict pain......hmmm maybe it's because death is instantaneous and you don't necessarily feel the slap because technically your other body is in sleep mode.....hmm". He paused in thought for a moment "oh well, I'm keep that body for research if you have a problem speak now" he said pressing the sharp end of one of his tail whips you your throat, when you nodded he smiled briefly "good girl, now get I've wasted enough time on you" he said and in the blink of an eye you were transported to a random spot in the forest.

"What.....am I going to do" you murmur sitting down on a fallen tree as you readjusted your kimono "good question what are you going to do?" Asked a strangely familiar voice, as you glanced over your shoulder you were expecting to see Giyuu or Tanjiro but was shocked to see the pale apparition of Yoriichi sitting next to you......what the fuck?

#demon slayer #kny x reader #alternate universe #fix it fic #slow burn #muzan x reader #yoriichi tsugikuni

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agaypanic · 8 months

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I'm not really good at requesting stuff but can you do more malcom smut stories kinda like the ones you did with reese

Stop Talking (Malcolm Wilkerson X Reader Smut)

Masterlist

Request Something!

Summary: Sick of your boyfriend’s complaining, you make an offhanded comment about his mouth. He takes it seriously.

A/N: i have another malcolm request for a first time smut, so this one’s gonna be malcolm giving reader head bc i dont have any other smut ideas lol btw characters are of age obvi and also kinda ooc malcolm i think ?? idk man

CW: oral sex (fem recieving), fingering, slight praise kink, edging, begging

***

Malcolm was always one to run his mouth about anything. Whether it was about some new book he was reading or some new problem he was having. You learned it was best to just nod along and hum in understanding, even if you didn’t have a clue what he was saying. Most of the time, Malcolm wanted an ear more than advice.

But sometimes, your ears would get tired.

“Reese is being such a dick!” Malcolm ranted, pacing around the room while you lay in bed, staring at the ceiling.

“Uh-huh.” You said tiredly.

“He’s always wrecking my stuff, and he doesn’t even care. And no one does anything about it!”

“Very true.”

“Mom and Dad should’ve sent him to military school instead of Francis. It would’ve been less of a waste of money.”

“Reese probably would’ve unionized the cadets in a week.”

Malcolm turned to you, looking betrayed and angry. If you weren’t growing annoyed, you probably would’ve laughed.

“Malcolm, baby, you have got to learn to loosen up. Look at yourself; you’re working up a sweat over Reese breaking your pencil when any other day he would’ve broken your face.” You sat up, staring your boyfriend down. “Plus, I’m getting sick of this rant of yours. I’ve heard it hundreds of times.”

“Oh, so you’re on his side?” Malcolm asked incredulously, putting his hands on his hips and tilting his head. You whined, tossing yourself back onto your bed.

“Oh geez, suck my clit, Malcolm. It’d be such a better use of your mouth.” You shut your eyes, clearly done with the whole conversation. Malcolm didn’t say anything, so you assumed it was the same for him. Finally, you had peace and quiet.

Until you were suddenly yanked down your mattress by the ankles, stopping when your legs were hanging off the edge of the bed. Your eyes shot wide open, coming face to face with your boyfriend.

“What do you want me to do?” Malcolm asked. His hands left your ankles to drag up the length of your legs, stopping at the sides of your thighs to squeeze at the flesh. Based on the tone of his voice, it was like he was challenging you.

“Excuse me?” You asked. But then you noticed his expression. Malcolm had a slight smile, and despite the color being icy blue, there was a certain darkness to his eyes.

“Say it again.” You’ve had sex with him before, but you’ve never seen Malcolm like this. Maybe it was the anger that had been boiling inside him, and you saying what you did was pushing him to relieve that anger differently. “Say it again, and I’ll do it.” Malcolm kneaded your thighs as he waited for a response, and if he wasn’t kneeling on the edge of your bed in between your legs right now, you’d clench them for some relief.

“Please.” He tsked in response, shaking his head slightly.

“Gotta say it, Y/n.”

Part of you was embarrassed to do so. Saying it as a joke or little insult was one thing. But saying it as a request, especially while Malcolm looked down at you like this, was so much harder.

“Suck my clit.” Malcolm kissed you deeply in response, an arm moving to hook under your waist while the other pulled a leg to wrap around his hips, making your skirt ride up. You eagerly returned the affection, moaning into Malcolm’s mouth as his growing erection grinded against your clothed clit.

Malcolm’s lips left yours, kissing down your neck and chest until he reached the bunched-up fabric of your skirt. His fingers went to slip under the waistband of your panties, pulling them agonizingly slow down your legs as if he knew the anticipation was killing you. When the fabric was completely off of you, Malcolm started kissing up your thighs, stopping at the apex where he ghosted over your eager core.

“Malcolm, come on.” You begged, wiggling your hips towards him. He gave into your plea, burying his face into your pussy and dragging his tongue through your slit before circling your clit. You jolted at the delicious contact, letting Malcolm manhandle your lower half so your legs were now dangling over his shoulders.

Your back arched off the mattress as Malcolm sucked on your clit. You were entirely correct; this was such a better use for his mouth. You two would probably do this every time he wanted to unnecessarily complain, but then you’d never come out of your room.

“So good, Malcolm, you’re so good.” Malcolm quickly became drunk off your mewling praises, gently nipping at your bud before sucking again. You planted a hand in his hair, pushing his head even closer, if that was possible.

Your grip had him groaning into your pussy, vibrations coursing through you while you tried not to squeeze his head with your thighs. Sensing you were quickly getting to the edge, Malcolm released one of your thighs to ease a finger into your quivering hole. Then he added a second, making you try to rock your hips in time to the quick thrusts of his digits.

Right when you were about to come, Malcolm pulled his mouth off of you and slowed his hand’s movements. You whined.

“Malcolm, please.”

“I dunno, Y/n. I don’t think you deserve it; you were pretty mean to me.” He was teasing you and enjoying the hell out of it. Malcolm gave a quick lap at your clit, not enough to send you over the edge but enough to make your breath hitch, wishing for more. “Maybe you should beg for it.”

“Malcolm, please, I’m so close.” That wasn’t enough for him, as he shook his head in false disappointment.

“Oh, come on, Y/n. You can do better than that.” He pressed up into that spongy spot inside of you, making you moan loudly.

“Please, fuck, please lemme come, Malcolm. I promise I’ll be good. Just let me come.” You ground yourself down on his fingers, hoping that that plus your words would be enough to convince him. It was, and in a flash, Malcolm was licking and sucking on your bud again, finger moving at what felt like lightning speed.

He didn’t let up as you climaxed, instead riding you through it while your eyes rolled back and you made incomprehensible noises. He continued the rough pace until you came down from your high and started jolting from the oversensitivity. Then he slowed to a stop, giving your clit one last kiss that made you shutter before coming up to be face to face with you.

You kissed Malcolm, tasting yourself on your tongue. It almost made you want to shove his head back down. But you pulled away, feeling something hard against you. You looked down and smirked before looking up at your now rosy-cheeked boyfriend.

“Want me to return the favor?”

#malcolm wilkerson x reader #malcolm wilkerson #malcolm wilkerson x reader smut #malcolm in the middle x reader #malcolm in the middle #agaypanic

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blacktofade · 27 days

Text

Gemtho Fortnight Day 3

A/N: I’m so obsessed with this idea, I could probably write like 10k of Etho recovering and them falling in love. Help.

Prompt: c!gem as a lighthouse keeper saving c!etho from a shipwreck and taking care of him

cw: partial drowning, minor injuries

Gem sits upright in bed, gasping for breath, the taste of saltwater in her mouth.

As much as she wants to think it’s just a bad dream, being born into a long line of Keepers, she knows better. There’s a reason the lighthouse she lives in was handed down to her.

She slips out of bed, pulling on her clothes, and tying back her hair as she makes her way downstairs.

The thing about her sight is that it’s more of a feeling, a general sense. As she laces up her boots and tugs on her raincoat, she has no idea what to expect. She just knows that it’s something. Something woke her from her sleep and called out for her help.

The wind outside is so strong she can barely shut the front door behind her, rain immediately beginning to soak through everything. She raises her lantern in one hand, but it barely cuts through the weather.

At the cliffs, the ocean roars, waves crashing into the rocks. She can’t see them, but she can feel their spray, the taste of them familiar on her tongue.

Despite it all, she feels calm, she has a purpose, a goal, and it tugs at her, leading her down towards the stairs that are dug into the rocky crag. She takes it one step at a time, minding her footing, because there doesn’t need to be more than one victim of the sea that night.

With the tide in, there’s more water than land at the bottom, and she wades through ankle-deep surf, lantern aloft, searching for signs of life.

She finds him folded into a shallow rockpool, face-down, not moving.

It’s not easy to roll him onto his back, but she sets her lantern down and manages with a rough shove. She doesn’t realize it’s a mask on his face until she pulls it off, thinking it’s seaweed, but his skin is pale, lips blue.

She has no hope of hearing a heartbeat above the noise of the ocean around them, even if she were to press her ear to his chest. But if they were in a silent room, she’s not sure she’d hear anything anyway, not with how he looks already.

Fearing the worst, she leans over him, pinching his nose and fitting her mouth over his own. She breathes for him, wishing for a miracle, begging the ocean to have pity, to give him back his soul. And part of being a Keeper is knowing that even despite her thundering temperament, sometimes the ocean will listen.

The man coughs, spitting up water and gasping for air as Gem starts to tug at him.

“We need to move,” she tells him, because as generous as the sea has been, she knows it won’t last. “You need to help me. I can’t do this by myself.”

She eases an arm around him, grabbing her lantern with her other hand, and thankfully the man moves, climbing to his feet. He staggers, using her to keep himself upright, and the difference in their heights has her digging her heels into the rocks the best she can.

It’s slow going as they make their way back up the cliffs, the man coughing so hard, she half expects him to drop dead again. But somehow she manages to get him inside the lighthouse, gets him onto her couch, where he sprawls with a noise as though he’s not sure how he’s alive.

Gem gets her boots and coat off, kicking into action as she moves around, lighting the stove to help warm him, grabbing towels that she’d been air-drying during the day, finding her first aid kit.

“What’s your name?” she asks, kneeling beside the couch and pressing a sympathetic hand to his arm when he jolts, like he might have been asleep.

He blinks at her and now that there’s more light, she can see his stark white hair, the mismatch coloring of his eyes. She’s not sure why the sea would ever let him go, but she’s thankful that it did.

“Etho,” he tells her, voice raw and she settles one of the towels over him, finding a handful of gauze to dab at the split just above his eyebrow that’s sluggishly bleeding.

“It’s nice to meet you, Etho,” she replies softly. “I’m Gem.”

His gaze darts around her face, as though memorizing her features, before he nods and shuts his eyes, sagging as though the exhaustion is finally catching up.

“You’re safe here,” she continues. “Try to sleep.”

He grunts in answer, and she presses a hand to the center of his chest, feeling the steady beating of his heart, letting it soothe her.

He may be a stranger, but he’s alive, and for her that’s enough.

#gemtho fortnight #fic

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stevenssticks · 8 months

Note

MORE DIMEBAG☹️🤭 (i fkn love your work)

MORE DIMEBAG IT IS! thinking about him n face fucking rn…. and then him fucking you rough from the back after. i see a big man with a guitar and my brain seeps out through my ears.

dimes a big and powerful man. thick thighs n muscle and ohmdmdbdk his fingers!!!! so calloused and rough. you’d be kneeling for him, staring up at him while he’s got one hand cradling your jaw, rubbing his thumb on your cheek. he’s looking down at you through lidded eyes. he’s got his jeans down to his ankles and takes his cock in his other hand. urging your mouth to open, you take the tip on your tongue. closing your lips around it, sucking.

dime let’s you work your way around him for a while, kissing up the shaft, pumping your hand over it. but dime is getting a little impatient. he takes both hands and places them on the crown of your head. he holds your head still, thrusting into your mouth slowly at first, before he can't hold back anymore and speeds up.

"fuck... so good." dime doesn't say much, so when he does it's like a reward. he lets out a little growl above you, hands gripping on your hair as you swallow him deeper into your mouth. he gets louder, groaning "fuck... oh fuck-!" before shoving all the way into your mouth, down your throat. your hands come up to grip his thighs, scratching a little. he keeps moving in and out of you, hands moving to the sides of your face to cup your cheeks, then taking his left and moving it down to your throat to feel himself there. it nearly sends him over the edge, but he pulls out right before he can.

he’s grabbing you and manhandling you over the bed before you have the chance to catch your breath, feet planted on the floor and torso thrown over the side. darrell rubs his cock up and down your pussy a few times, other hand palming your ass, leaving a couple light smacks. he pushes into you ruthlessly. knowing you want it rough tonight without you even having to tell him.

his hips smack against your ass. you’re gonna have to stand wherever you go tomorrow because of the bruises he’s leaving. his hands are on your hips, pulling you to meet his thrusts as you mewl and whine for him to go faster, harder, and darrell of course complies gladly. he leans over you, reaching a hand under your chest and hooking over your shoulder to pull you against him that way, better being able to hear his low noises in your ear. “oh fuck… this pussy’s so tight.. gonna cum in you. yeah… fuck i’m gonna cum inside.”

he keeps fucking you through his orgasm. determined to make you cum even after he’s spent. he feels you tighten on his overstimulated cock, and then you’re gushing on him. screaming into the sheets, tears running down your face.

dime isn’t much of a romantic. however he does make an effort to clean you up. he’s got a cloth for you, helps hoist your spent body under the covers after. giving you a couple deep kisses before going outside for a smoke.

#how did i get here #asks and replies #dimebag darrell #dimebag darrell smut #pantera #p’s thots(^ ^*)

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wyn-n-tonic · 1 year

Text

Transference

Word Count: 2.6k+ Pairing: Rhett Abbott x f!reader Warnings: Unprotected PiV but not graphic. Playing fast and loose (mostly loose) with vampire lore. Author's Note: If Stephanie Meyer can make them sparkle, I can make them ranchers.

“COWS?!”

He nods his head.

“You sound fucking insane, Rhett.”

“Do I? You ever think about how we’ve only been on dates that don’t involve food?”

“You are so full of shit.”

“Or how my family works the ranch at night or how my dad’s a little strange?”

Your arms wrap around your body. “And that’s supposed to mean you’re a vampire? God, baby, I know it’s called Devil’s Night, but you gotta execute this prank shit better. What’s next?” Your eyebrows pinch. “You gonna tell me you’re, like, a hundred years old?”

Rhett laughs. “Close to it.”

“God,” you roll your eyes. “My daddy already hates that you’re older than me, he’s absolutely gonna lose his shit when he finds out that Rhett Abbott is”—you throw your hands out—“immortal.”

“You think this is funny?” He asks. “I could rip your throat out right now if I wanted to.”

“You’re a man, sweetheart,” you say, sitting down on the couch. “Men could always rip out the throats of women and, yet, we still go home with you praying that you won’t. And now look at us.”

“You've never wondered about how I can go so many rounds between your legs?”

“Well,” you watch as he walks towards you, low light glinting off his belt buckle, “honestly I just figured you were the well practiced man that everybody said you were.” You gasp, “Rhett Abbott, did you fuck those girls moms in the eighties and their moms before them in the fifties.”

“Probably some of their dads too.”

Shaking your head, you lean over and begin to slip your shoes off, half a buckle on your heels undone before his hand catches yours. He’s kneeling in front of you, both knees pushed into the hard, wooden floor and lifts your ankle closer to him to begin pulling at the straps.

“A vampire with a foot fetish? How original.”

A smile splits his face. “Is that part of the lore now?”

“It's my understanding,” you tell him, fingers slipping into hair, “that backstory doesn’t have to be factual for something that is fake.”

“Fake, huh?”

Rhett pulls your shoes off and places them gently to the side, always so quiet and gentle despite what others may think of him, before running both hands up the length of your leg. Lips press to your knee as he shuffles closer, bending almost in prayer towards you.

“I'll let you make silly jokes more often,” you begin, “if this is how soft you behave for me.”

Laughter falls out of his open mouth, tongue flattening against the skin of your thigh. His grip tightens in its hold around your knee. “Soft, huh?” Kisses increase in pressure, pushing his face in so close you can feel his eyelashes fluttering against the sensitive skin.

“Mm.” You’re about to fall against the back of the couch, about to let your legs spread wide for him, when a sharp pain jolts through your body beneath his mouth. “What the fuck, Rhett?”

He looks up, a hint of red on his lips and lifts one eyebrow. “Am I still soft and fake to you, sweetheart?”

“You bit me?”

Flattening his palm, he smooths it up the length of your inner thigh and leans back in. “Don't worry, baby, I’ll make the pain stop soon.”

“What does that ev—oh.”

Everything becomes very sharp as he kisses down on the sting of the puncture wounds he left in your leg, very bright until all the edges begin to dull between the sucking motion of his mouth and the soothing movement of his thumb drawing little circles over and over.

The grip you have on his hair is slipping, breath weakening as waves crash between your ears. You’re leaning back on the couch when the heel of his palm presses hard between your legs, grounding you back in place.

Continuing to rub against your core, Rhett licks out against your thigh and everything is so cold.

“What the fuck was that, Rhett?”

Light reflects off his impossibly blue eyes as he looks up, lips pulled upward on one side, and he pushes himself towards you. “I don’t lie to you, baby,” he whispers against your lips. “I might withhold the truth, but I don’t lie to you.”

The tin can taste on his tongue proves as much when it darts out against yours, mouth opening easily beneath his. Your head is still light, easily manipulated in his hold.

He pulls away before you’ve fully registered the weight of him against you, still grasping for a bit of purchase on reality, and he’s back on his knees when you open your eyes again.

“Am I still bleeding?”

“No,” he shakes his head. “Wound's not even there anymore.”

“Then how do I know it was real?”

He shrugs. “Would it be any more real if you saw the marks? You’d probably have another reasonable explanation like I just decided to stab you for a prank.”

"Isn't that what you did do, though?” You ask him. “Did you not make me bleed for the bit?”

Hands wrap around your hips, fingers hooking into the waistband of your panties, and nails bite into your skin. “I just told you I don’t lie to you.” He slips the fabric down your legs. “When would I have found time to stab you? And if I stabbed you, why wouldn’t I finish the job, huh? Why would I be trying to”—one hand wraps around each of your knees and he pushes them apart—“get at this beautiful little cunt instead?”

“Rhett…”

He presses his lips back into the spot that stung with pain moments ago and moans into the skin. “There's a part of you that believes me,” he says, kissing his way up your leg. “There’s a transference in the blood. I can feel you and hear you—inside of you, all of you—just by taking in the smallest amount.”

Looking up, he finally kisses down on your mound, one hand landing across your lower belly to keep you down against the cushions of the couch. Everything’s still been that floaty feeling until now, a moment of pure clarity. Whatever he did, whatever the fuck it may mean, you’ve never felt this needy for him. Or this nervous

“Rhett.”

His name is punched out on half a breath and he glances up at you with a smile in his eyes as he moves down to kiss against you.

“Relax,” he throws up to your ears.

You can’t. Every part of your body is tensed up with him between your legs looking like this—like he could eat you. After all, is that not what he’s saying he can do?

He sits back on his heels again, “are you scared?”

Unsure of what you are, you shake your head. “Why would I be scared? It’s not like we haven’t fucked before, Rhett.”

Capable, callused hands cover the backs of yours, both of them clawed into the cushion at your side. “We've fucked plenty, sweetheart,” he agrees. “But my teeth have never been involved and your blood certainly hasn’t.” His eyes dart down to the apex of your thighs, exposed and on display for him, and smiles. “Well, that’s not exactly true but I hope you understand what I mean.”

You don’t.

With your head so full of cotton again, you barely register the small, circular motion of his thumbs against the pulse point of each wrist. Don’t even know when he flipped your palms upward towards the ceiling.

“Rhett, did you give me something?”

“Well, I think I may have bitten you a little too hard,” he says, eyes searching your face. “That's my fault, sweetheart. I should’ve gone easier on you”—he shrugs—“I probably shouldn’t have bitten your femoral artery either but here we are. I fucked up, I’m sorry. I haven’t done this in a while.”

“What do you mean you haven’t done this in a while?”

Rhett shrugs. “Bitten somebody ‘cause I love them.”

“You're being serious.”

“I already told you, sweetheart, I don’t lie to you.”

“Then what is this, Rhett?”

Between your legs, as he rises to his feet, his shadow falls over you in the soft light of the living room. “Honey, I—“ Running his hand across chin, he looses a half-choked sound from somewhere deep in his chest and leans back down towards you. “I’m trying to tell you what I am because I love you and I think you deserve it.”

“A monster?”

He nods, so close the tip of his nose runs against your own. “If that’s how you want to see me, sure.”

A beat passes and then another, his lips ghosting across your skin as he crawls over you and plants his knees into the cushion—one on each side of your hips.

“You sound sad.”

Two large hands frame your face rough calluses, from years—and years—of ranch hand and wrangling work, sliding across your sensitive windburned cheeks and smiles. “Little bit, baby,” he affirms, whispering into the cup of your mouth as he opens it with his own. “Little bit.”

This isn’t kissing, not really. He’s holding you against him, mouth still over yours as his body folds into you.

“Why are you sad, Rhett?” You ask, fingers trailing up his ribcage. “Hmm? Did I make you sad?”

“No, baby. I just thought this conversation would go different.”

Shushing you when you try to speak again, Rhett nudges your knee with his, encouraging you to open up for him, as his hands drop to your hips. By the time he readjusts himself, he’s pulled you up his body, rough jeans scraping against your sensitive core before pushing the flat of his cool belt buckle down on you.

“When I tell you I’m being serious,” he says, maneuvering his hand between the buckle and your heat, “I’m being serious.”

He catches your breath when he pushes in, the flat of his palm pressing down into your belly. When he bites your lip, there’s a sting to it followed by the taste of iron and that same intense feeling clouds up behind your eyes.

“My darling girl,” he whispers, his pace building steady, “I want you to know me—”

“Okay.”

“I want you to understand me,” he continues. “This is understanding me”—he pulls a high pitched whine from your throat on next thrust—“it might not be a well kept secret but that doesn’t mean I go around just telling anybody this shit. Okay?”

Crashing waves sound off between your ears, losing every other word he gives until all you can do is nod and hold on.

“You never wondered why I never pull out?” He goes on. “Never wondered why I don’t sleep when I’m with you, huh? His words are stunted with every thrust, falling against soft skin and tear stained cheeks. “Hey, hey, what are these?” He raises his hand to sweep the saltwater away with the back of his fingers. “Baby, am I hurting you?”

Maybe you’re shaking your head but you don’t know, the whole room is spinning and his cock is the only constant. “No,” you finally tell him, small hand wrapping around his, “you just feel so-so good, Rhett.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

“For what?”

He shakes his head and leans down to kiss your temple. “I told you I think I bit a little too hard. Like I said, it’s been a while since I bit somebody I loved.”

“And what happened to them?” You ask. “Why aren’t they sitting here with you between their legs right now, Rhett Abbott?”

Everything—every movement, every word, every breath—stills as he looks down with something like fear in his eyes. “Because I bit them too hard.”

And that’s it. It has to be. He’s not a good actor or a good liar, you know that even on your dizziest days.

“How are you not cold?” You ask him. “You’re always so fucking warm, Rhett. How are you not cold?”

Laughing, he catches your lips again, head cradled gently in his hand as he starts building pace again. “Don't ask me to explain the specifics, baby girl. Just take it like I know you can right now and then maybe you can tell me just—fuck,” his hips stutter. “Maybe you can tell me just what the fuck I did to that pretty little head of yours,” he continues, “to make you grip me this tight.”

It feels like it’s been hours.

“Baby—“

“Shh. I fucking love you.”

Rhett nibbles into your jaw and down to your neck, teeth scraping across your fevered skin and replaced by his tongue on the return as head rush after head rush pulses through you.

The sounds between you both mute out to nothing as he speeds up, heat and cold and heat again running in your veins. You don’t even feel it when it hits, can only hear the quiet sobbing he’s covering with his own body until there's a tight groan fed back into you.

“Rhett, I—“

“No, stop. We can talk about it later.”

“But—“

“I know what you’re gonna ask,” he interrupts again. “I can hear you, remember? I can feel you.”

“You have fucked my brain,” you tell him. “I can’t feel my body.”

“Only me, right?”

“Only you,” you affirm.

“That's us, honey,” he whispers back, sweeping hair from your forehead. “That’s both of us together.”

Arms crossing around your back, he moves to lay you down against the cushions while he slips from between your legs. “I'll be right back,” he says, tucking himself back into his pants.

Time moves slower without him hovering over you, body temperature changing rapidly from hot to cold to hot again as you curl into the back of the couch. As your eyes slip closed, those same rough hands find you again to slide up your legs and back below your skirt.

“What—“

“It’s barely been an hour since we got home, baby.”

You nod, head falling easily back against the soft seat of the couch. Soft mouth sounds fall on your ears before you can even comment on the wet washcloth between your legs, almost seeming to change temperature as fast as you.

“Baby?”

“Yeah, Rhett?”

He squeezes himself behind you, chest flat and strong against your back and buries his nose into your hair.

“Yes,” he answers before you can ask if he can still smell. “And my question was gonna be if I’ve made you feel unsafe,” he breathes deep again, lips ghosting the shell of your ear with his impossibly low voice. “At all, ya know… ever.”

“No.”

“Okay.”

Vulnerability permeates the space between you, palpable even in half sleep, and you push closer to the covered pillows in an attempt to make room.

“So you bit too hard?” You ask, a soft hum of affirmation buzzing against your neck before you’ve even finished. “Did they—“

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he cuts you off. “We’re here together now, that’s what matters.”

“Okay.”

He presses kiss after kiss into the crown of your head, thumb sweeping gentle circles into your breast bone over your clothes. Everything is evening back out again—your breathing, your heartbeat, the goosebumps on your arms—replaced by a dull ache everywhere his mouth had been.

Energy bursts through you and you sit up, looking down at Rhett, halfway off the edge of the couch now, the fabric of his shirt twisting between your fingers as every comes back into focus.

His eyes are wide in question as he tries to push himself up beside you but he can’t even get a word out of his mouth before you beat him to it.

“DID YOU SAY YOU SURVIVE OFF COWS?!”

#this was supposed to be for halloween so i guess... merry christmas?#rhett abbott x you #rhett abbott x reader #rhett abbott #outer range #outer range fanfiction #rhett abbott fanfiction #o writes

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badacts · 1 year

Text

étoile

When life becomes less busy for the Kings of the Alliance, Damen thought they might finally have some time to enjoy each other’s company. This is not what he envisioned.

Laurent first sees her running across the cobbled yard in front of the stables, chased by several harried men. It’s love at first sight.

Of course, it requires catching her first. Damen watches as he anchors himself deep in his saddle, snagging a trailing rein in one tight fist and heaving to pull her head around. The move sends a snorting confusion of horseflesh scattering across the courtyard but ends with him still astride, his own horse exchanging breath with a sweating chestnut whose saddle is sitting crooked on her back.

She’s a beauty with a finely fluted face, short strong cannons and pasterns, and a flaxen mane that stands against the dark liver of her coat. While Laurent’s horse, the one Damen gifted him, is always polite, she strikes and squeals, her shoe throwing sparks.

“Your majesty!” The horsemaster leading the charge pulls up, panting. “Apologies! She jumped the rail of the menage.” The limping stableboy behind him paints a picture of them parting company during or shortly prior.

“No matter,” Laurent says, passing the reins of the mare over. “One of Berenger’s, is she?”

“Yes, sire. A proper wild one, she is. Soon I’ll have run out of boys to put on her if she has her way about it.” The mare, as if to prove her point, pins her ears at the boy as he tentatively takes her bridle.

“What is she called?” Laurent asks.

Unexpectedly, the horsemaster - a bearded man of fifty with crow’s feet deeper than canyons - blushes. “Star, if it pleases you, sire.”

Laurent doesn’t comment on whether it pleases him or not, dismounting his horse and leading her back into her stable before handing her over to the groom. Damen does the same with his own, patting the stallion’s broad neck and allowing him the apple core he’s been carrying in the fold of his sash. His inquisitive whiskery lips gobble the treat eagerly and search Damen’s clothes for others while he’s there.

The escapee is led back to her own stable, pulling faces at the curious horses peering over their doors at her.

“Curious to name a horse with a blaze Star,” Laurent comments from where he’s leaning against the barn wall, ankles crossed. He’s watching her go.

“Curious,” Damen agrees without looking at the star pin at the breast of Laurent’s fine jacket, his one nod to the adornments expected of a king. Bright blonde hair and a winning temperament - it’s a wonder they don’t call her Princess.

“When I said that now things were quieter, perhaps we could do something together,” Damen says, “This wasn’t what I had in mind.”

Laurent’s expression says that no king could want for anything more than to be clinging to the side of a green mare like a burr. His eyes say to Damen in particular that he daren’t suggest otherwise. He wordlessly proffers his ankle, knee bent.

“Would you like me to kneel so you can use me as a stepstool instead?” Damen inquires.

“No,” Laurent says. “I need you to keep a hold of her bridle with your other hand.”

Damen has never broken in a horse. He spent his youth riding horses of varying temperament but only the best quality, and has seen a much greater variation in quality since meeting Laurent, all of which has only given him a conviction that it’s better to pay someone knowledgeable to do the job of training horses well than attempt to do it yourself poorly. Of course, Laurent has more experience in the field than Damen. Somehow that’s not a comfort.

“Am I about to see you thrown across the ring like the stableboys who’ve gone before you?” Damen asks, grasping the ankle anyway.

“Possibly,” Laurent allows. “On three?”

“If you die in a riding accident while I hold the reins, I’m going to be accused of treason.”

“...on three?”

“On three.” At least he made the attempt. “One, two -”

Laurent is easily boosted into the saddle, landing lightly astride. The mare, somewhat to Damen’s surprise, stands like a rock.

“Good girl,” Laurent says, stroking her neck. Her ear flickers back to listen to him. “Let her stand.”

“I’m impressed she is standing. I was of the impression that she flees at the mere threat of being ridden.”

“I suspect she’s cold-backed. Some are reactive to the weight of the saddle or a rider, particularly when they move. Keep a hold of her.” And with that, he puts his heels lightly to her sides to ask her forward.

It’s lucky he warns Damen, because the second the mare steps forward, it becomes clear that her stillness was not that of calm, but that of a large muscular animal prepared to launch. Her head drops between her knees and she explodes, all four feet off the ground. She attempts to plunge across the yard, only Damen’s grip keeping her turning in a tight circle.

She is athletic. Laurent, whose seat is famed across both Vere and Akielos and also several other countries who value blondes who ride well as much as Damen does, sits the first several bucks easily, and then the ones following after that less easily. The saddle, though girthed tight, is not suited for that degree of acrobatic feat, and begins to slip to the right.

Damen, who is strong, is less strong than a horse. The rein is wrenched from his hand and he hears himself make an alarmed sound at the idea of his lover, who happens to be a king, flung across the menage without his say so.

Laurent, in a whip-quick instance, throws a leg over and pushes himself free of the saddle. It’s clearly a planned maneuvre. Damen, whose mind has already seen Laurent hit the ground and roll to disperse the impact, finds himself instead with an arm around Laurent’s waist in a doomed attempt to catch him.

Some of the motion is arrested, but Laurent, though slighter than Damen, is moving at a tremendous pace and purposefully relaxed rather than stiff-kneed, and Damen is hardly braced appropriately. What would have likely been a skilled show of athletic ability and horsemanship is instead an uncontrolled fall onto the sand of the menage. Damen lands first, on his back: Laurent lands on top of him.

“I employed the right man for the job,” Laurent says in the stillness after the earth has stopped spinning. Damen, who has had the breath driven out of him, says nothing. The mare is still audibly cavorting close by, her desire to jump the fence and return to the stables halted by the cunning edition of an extra pair of railings to add height.

“You don’t pay me,” Damen wheezes, eventually. There’s a hand cautiously testing the integrity of his rib cage and he can’t enjoy it because there’s sand in his chiton. He sits up, swiping his hair from his face. Laurent looks very slightly repentant, though it could be Damen’s imagination. Mostly he looks pink-cheeked and dusty as he crouches on his heels at Damen’s side.

There’s a heave of breath like a sigh from nearby. The mare, given up on the idea of freedom, has wandered back over to investigate them. She looks sweet as honey with her ears pricked and her saddle now markedly crooked.

Laurent looks back at her, head tilted. “I see we have our work cut out for us.”

#captive prince #lamen #horse girl laurent #my fic #i haven't written in like two years but whatever have this dumb business #also i know nothing about how they broke horses in historically but i'm guessing it's the same as how we do it now #and i DO know how to break in a horse (i did it professionally for many years)#laurent has chestnut mare vibes

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writingwhimsey · 1 year

Text

A Mermaid Princess and A Pirate King

A Healer’s Work

Over the next two weeks, anywhere I went, I had a shadow. My regular stops in town, “Don’t forget to take Shojumaru with you.” It was really starting to grate on my nerves. However, I had things to do. I still had my duties as a healer and as chatelaine. I wouldn’t let him stop me from doing those.

I was working in the new healers’ quarters, putting up the new stores of medicinal herbs that Motonari had delivered…the man watching me all the while. “You know, there’s really no need to guard me while in the castle, Shojumaru.” I said, as I was putting away some of the herbs…after thoroughly testing them to make sure they weren’t poisoned.

Motonari grinned. “Oh, but you never know when danger may strike, my lady. I only wish to protect you as well as get to know you better.” He replied, keeping up the act just in case any of the other healers happened to come by. “Besides, my motives for guarding you are entirely selfish ones.”

“Oh yes, your grand confession to Nobunaga.” I replied, recalling his love confession. I rolled my eyes as I turned my back to him once again, focusing my efforts on organizing the medicines.

Motonari was moving closer to me then so that he could speak to me so only I could hear. His mouth right next to my ear, though he still did not touch me. “Yer sure feisty. Ya know I’m just makin’ sure my investment pays off. Just remember ta keep playin’ along fish girl. Pretend ta like me even just a little bit fer savin’ ya.”

I hate admitting this, but my body didn’t seem to entirely hate how close he was. It took all of my willpower to keep the shiver from running down my spine. I wasn’t about to let him think he could get anything over on me. I turned and looked directly into those blood red eyes…which were much closer than I anticipated. Once again I fought with my own body…okay yes he’s attractive, but he’s a dick.

“Would you rather I fall all over myself when I look at you?” I replied. I then put on the fakest voice I could, raising my voice a couple of octaves. “Oh Shojumaru, thank you so much for saving me. You’re my hero! So big and strong! I can’t get enough of you protecting me! Why don’t you just take me right here and now?”

Motonari was quickly backing up and glaring at me. “You…”

“Hey, sorry were we interrupting something?” called a familiar voice.

Both Motonari and I turned to see Keiji coming in with one of the new recruits leaning on him for support. I smiled at Keiji. “Not a thing. Are you still giving the new recruits a beating?” I asked, going into healer mode, as Keiji was bringing the soldier over to sit on the bed.

“Heh, it’s not like I’m trying to hurt anyone.” Keiji replied.

“More that I still have a lot to learn, Princess.” the soldier said.

“Where’s your injury?” I asked, giving the man a kind smile.

“It’s my ankle…did something to it when Lord Keiji took me down.” He answered.

“I see.” I replied, grabbing the supplies I would need anticipating a sprain. He didn’t seem to be in enough pain for it to be broken. I was then kneeling on the floor in front of him and examining his ankle.

“There’s…uh…no need for you to kneel down like that…Princess…” The soldier said, his cheeks reddening. “You…you don’t have to treat me. I’m sure one of the other healers would be just fine.”

“Nonsense.” I replied. “I’m here and I’m perfectly capable of treating you.” I assured him.

“I-I…I didn’t mean to imply that…I just meant there’s no need for someone of your station to be treating me…”

“Then don’t think of me as an Oda Princess. Just think of me as another healer and member of the Oda forces.” I replied. “And just Ava is fine.” His ankle was indeed sprained.

“Well…okay…I think I can do that.” He replied, smiling back at me.

I was then wrapping his ankle and applying some healing herbs…as well as sending a bit of my healing magic his way. My powers were weakened by the bracelet, but at least I was able to continue to use them a bit to help others. Of course, the main purpose of the bracelet was to control me and keep me from using my powers on Motonari.

“Alright, you’re all set. It’s just a sprain. Stay off of it for a few days, keep it elevated and take this medicine to reduce the swelling and you should be back to training in no time.” I told him, as I handed him some medicine and a makeshift crutch.

“Thank you Prin…I mean Ava.” He said bowing his head before leaving.

“You know Keiji, injuries have been up since you’ve been put in charge of training.” I told him with a teasing smile.

“I think they’re getting injured on purpose.” Keiji told me, grinning. “I think they come to see your smile.”

I rolled my eyes. “You are so full if shit, Keiji.”

Keiji laughed. “Hey, I’m just sayin’ they wanna come see and be treated by a beautiful woman.”

“I’d say Lord Keiji is right.” Motonari spoke up for the first time in a while. “Can’t say that I blame them really.”

Keiji laughed heartily. “See, Shojumaru knows where it’s at. Of course, he knows better since he’s in love with you, too.”

“Yeah…” I said with a laugh, I hope didn’t sound as forced as it felt.

Keiji ended up bringing in a few more guys with injuries before I was trading out shifts with another healer. I headed into town…Motonari as my shadow once again. I was making my usual stops, when the owner of a local tea house was running up to me. “My lady, please you have to help?” He asked me, his desperation clear on his face.

“Of course, what is it?” I asked.

“It’s my…my daughter…she’s so sick…so small…”

“Say no more. Just lead the way.” I replied.

He nodded and then started leading me through the streets. I followed not caring if Motonari followed or not, but knowing he would. We were soon arriving at the man’s home and he was dipping inside. Motonari was grabbing my sleeve. “Could be a trap, ya know.” He told me, glaring at me.

“Well, then it’s a good thing I have my faithful guard dog, Shojumaru with me.” I replied, glaring back at him just as hard. I was then ripping my sleeve from his grasp and heading in.

I heard him let out a groan and then a few minutes later was following me in, a cloth held over his nose and mouth. It struck me as odd, but I didn’t have time to pay attention to him as I was turning to the situation in front of me. A girl, she couldn’t have been more than three or four was lying on the floor, wrapped in blankets and coated in sweat. There was a cloth on her head and the child was so pale..so fragile looking.

I quickly knelt down. Her breathing was shallow and she was hot to the touch as I began my examination. If I didn’t act quickly, she was sure to die. I administered medicines. As I held her head up to give her the medicine, I let me healing power flow through me and into her. “Everything is going to be alright, child.” I whispered to her.

Within moments her fever broke and her eyes were opening. “Mama…Papa…” She said, looking around the room.

I stepped out of the way as the happy family moved around her, tears filling their eyes as they hugged their daughter. I smiled as I watched them and turned to leave. The tea house owner was looking at me. “Wait, my lady, how much do we owe you?”

“Not a thing.” I answered with a warm smile. “Just love and cherish her and your time together.”

He smiled. “Thank you, my lady.”

“It was my pleasure.” I replied, turning to leave.

“W-wait…” The little girl called.

I turned and she smiled at me. “Thank you…lady.”

I smiled. “I am just happy to see you better. Rest and take care.”

As I left Motonari had already gone outside, he was wiping himself down with a clean white cloth. Someone has a problem with germs, perhaps? I thought to myself.

“What are ya lookin’ at, fish girl?” He asked, glaring at me.

“Nothing.” I answered, not ready to voice my thoughts to him.

“We should head back to the damn castle.” He said, his Shijumaru act clearly dropped. “Ya should get cleaned up.”

“And I assume you want to as well?” I asked.

“Just make sure ya keep yer distance.” He said, glaring at me as he began to take long strides back to the castle.

Clearly, the man had more issues than I initially thought. What else was there to Motonari? If he had an issue with germs…that would make sense with some of the other things I had observed of him. Perhaps he even had a condition? One that would not be recognized or diagnosed in this time. The gloves would make sense then…so would him not eating at the banquet. It made me wonder, what else I might be able to find out…and how could I use that to help me get out of this mess?

After we returned to the castle, Motonari immediately headed to get cleaned up. He spent quite a while washing up before returning to my side in fresh clothes. We joined the Oda for another feast…Motonari once again not eating nor drinking. Though that didn’t seem to dampen the mood for anyone else.

I decided to turn in early, giving the excuse that I’d had a long a busy day. Motonari, escorted me to my chambers. “You really that worried that you have to follow me to my room? You know I CAN’T tell anyone anything or do you not believe in the power you hold because of this damn shackle you put on me?”

“I don’t trust nothin’ fish girl. Nothin’ but my own plans.” Motonari answered.

“Nothing and no one.” I replied. “That must get lonely.”

“It ain’t lonely.” Motonari replied. “Besides, you’re too trustin’ and look what it got you.”

“That I may be in this predicament now, doesn’t mean I regret my choices.” I replied, glaring at him defiantly. “No matter the cost to me, I will never regret helping those in need…now good night.” I said, slamming my door closed. I crossed my arms over my chest as I sank to the floor in frustration.

How could one man drive me so absolutely mad? He got under my skin like no other. I was too frustrated to even think of sleeping. I needed something…I sighed as I fell back on the floor. I needed to feel something different. It was then that an idea struck me. I waited till I thought Motonari had left and then I began to sneak out of my room, heading out through the garden.

I had made it to the wall, when I became aware of a presence behind me. “Where ya think yer goin’?”

I suppressed a groan as I turned to Motonari. “You wanna find out? Just keep following me. Not like I can stop you if I wanted to anyways.”

“But I could stop you.” Motonari countered.

I glared at him. “It’s no secret meeting to spill all your secrets.” I told him. “Just need to go get out all of this frustration.”

Motonari quirked a brow at me. “Alright.” He said after a moment. “Lead the way.”

I continued on my little walk, Motonari following me, until we were on the banks of the nearby lake. I looked at the reflection of the moon on the water, thinking how beautiful it looked. I sighed feeling a bit more at peace already.

I began lifting my hands to my obi, undoing my sash. “What the hell ya doin’?” Motonari asked, his red eyes wide.

“What do you think?” I replied.

He grinned. “Heh, well if ya wanted ta work yer frustrations off, why didn’t ya tell me this was what ya had in mind? We coulda taken care o’ this back in yer room, fish girl.”

“Oh, if that’s what I had in mind, I don’t think you could handle it, ya damn pirate.” I replied as I removed my sash. “You’re the one who keeps calling me fish girl. You’re aware of my people, then you must know what I’m really up to.” I continued to remove my layers.

“Late night skinny dippin’ beforehand then?” Motonari asked, leaning in.

I rolled my eyes as I stripped myself of my kimono, soon completely naked. “Think whatever you want, but you ain’t getting this.” I told him before jumping into the water. Once I was completely submerged, my legs were melding together as my scales began to cover them, my transformation taking place. By the time I resurfaced, my tail was fully in place. I looked back at the shore where Motonari stood, looking at me dumbfounded. I grinned. “Sometimes a girl just has to stretch her fins.”

#ikesen motonari #ikemen sengoku motonari #motonari mouri #ikesen #ikemen sengoku #ikesen au #ikemen sengoku mermaid au #motonari and mermaid #motonari route au #cybird ikemen #cybird otome #ikemen series #otome boys #cybird #fanfic #fanfiction

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sezja · 2 years

Note

Made up prompt: One carrying the other due to a sprained/broken ankle

"It's just a sprain, Chief," Guydelot mutters, while Sanson continues feeling gingerly at the wounded limb with that pensive frown of his. "Gimme a few minutes, and I'll limp my way over to the infirmary, where they'll tell me to put some ice on it and get out of their hair-"

"You are not walking on this." Sanson releases his sore ankle, resting it gently back on the ground.

Guydelot bites back the urge to snap; it isn't Sanson's fault he stumbled over a crumpled magitek bit - he ought to have been paying more attention to his feet, rather than keeping an eye on the rest of the unit - and Sanson himself - during the battle. He's godsdamned lucky enough to have survived the battle after nearly knocking himself unconscious, to say nothing of the sprain; he'd managed to get upright enough to keep firing arrows, but walking was out of the question 'til the battle was over-

And then came the fussing.

"It's nothing." Guydelot glances down at the swollen ankle, and can't fight his wince. Alright, so it does look pretty bad. But hells, hasn't this been enough of a production? He doesn't want anyone hovering over him like- like-

Well, like Sanson's doing right now, actually.

"Guydelot..."

"I can hobble just fine. I'll hop on one foot if I need to." He tries to gauge the distance to the infirmary, tries not to think about how ridiculous he's going to look hopping his way over.

And then Sanson kneels down... and scoops him up.

"What- hey-"

"Stop squirming," Sanson orders, adjusting his grip on the taller man, seemingly not struggling in the slightest with carrying him. Guydelot allows himself a moment's appreciation for his lover's strength; he can by no means be described as a small man, nor a light one, but Sanson appears to be carrying him with ease.

He struggles for another long moment with his own dignity; is this less mortifying than hopping all the way to the infirmary?

With a sigh, he winds his arms around Sanson's neck instead, endeavoring to make himself a more comfortable burden. He'd be lying if he said he didn't like the feel of Sanson's arms around him like this, carrying him to safety; whatever embarrassment he may feel otherwise - for tripping, for needing to be carried - it is outweighed, subtly, by the pleasure of the opportunity to be ferried to the infirmary by the man he loves.

Teasingly, he nuzzles Sanson's ear. "I think I like being the damsel in distress."

Sanson snorts. "You just enjoy sanctioned laziness, and not having to walk."

He grins, and nips gently at the man's ear instead, delighting in the way Sanson gasps... and nearly drops him. Once Sanson's straightened back up, he laughs. "I think you ought to do this at home, once this is all over. Just cart me around the house."

"And toss you on the bed, I suppose?"

"Sanson!" He gasps, but he's beaming. "We're on duty!"

Sanson's face colors. "I... it was the first soft place I could think of-"

"The very first place on your mind, eh?"

"You are impossible."

"You are irresistible, sweeping me off my feet like this."

"Guydelot..."

He chuckles again, feeling immeasurably better - in spirit, if not in body. But they're nearing the infirmary now. "Do you mean to carry me all the way to the infirmary bed?"

"Matron preserve me." Sanson sighs. "Absolutely not."

"Oh." He'd been quite enjoying the fantasy of Sanson laying him tenderly down safely onto one of the infirmary's cots, not relinquishing his hold until he was certain Guydelot was safe...

But he supposes it is only a sprained ankle.

Sanson shakes his head, smiling. "You're not likely to need a bed at all, if your ankle isn't broken. They won't want to take up a bed for someone with greater injuries when you can recover just as well elsewhere."

"Fair enough," Guydelot acknowledges, not relishing the idea of hobbling back to his own tent.

Sanson carries him through the door of the infirmary, and gently sets him down to flag down a passing conjurer. As she hastens over, though, Sanson leans in close, and murmurs, "I will carry you back, however. As far as I must."

#sanson smyth #guydelot thildonnet #my writing #I'M SO SORRY THIS ONE TOOK SIX YEARS (or just over three weeks)#i've been sick and working on the vampire fic #this takes place at some unspecified point in time - i didn't angle it at any specific battle in the game or anything #possibly ghimlyt? possibly garlemald? who knows!

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sideofcalimary · 1 year

Text

Break Up, Make up, Heroes

Spiderman and Deadpool stand next to each other, looking at the man that was webbed to a chair in his own home. The events that led them to this situation was a thrilling little mystery as they take on one of Deadpool's more tame and less violent jobs.

Spiderman: We're not going to hurt you-

Deadpool: Unfortunately

Spiderman: We just wanna know where Hannah is

The man in the chair, who was unfortunately named Kevin, shook his head: I don't know what you're talking about! Get out of my house! Deadpool: Lyin isn't gonna get you anywhere, limp dick. Just tell us where she is and we won't cut your hand off

Spiderman: We're not doing that at all

Deadpool: He won't do it but I will Spiderman groans in frustration and gets in front of Deadpool, kneeling down so he could be eye level with Kevin: Just answer us and we'll leave. We can put this behind us

Kevin: Fuck off you spandex wearing freaks! I don't know anything! Spiderman: The longer you lie to us the longer this is gonna drag out. Just tell us where Hannah is

Kevin: I'm not talking to either of you psychos! You call yourselves heroes but you're nothing but good for nothing villa- Deadpool marches over with his gun pointed at Kevin's forehead: I will shoot your fucking CAT

Spiderman: ...

Kevin freezes up at the weapon and stares at it in fear: I-I don't. I don't know w-what that means... I don't- I don't have a cat.. Deadpool: Then who's catbed did I piss on?

Spiderman: ...

Kevin: ...

Deadpool cocks back his gun and aims: Anyways. Tell us where Hannah is or I'll shoot your balls . . .

Rody: So I'm guessing it didn't go so well?

Deadpool: Fuck off, we found the girl and let the police take the scumbags

Rody: and yet you look like a kicked puppy even with a mask on

Deadpool glares at the man behind the counter as he's handed an envelop Deadpool: Mind your own fucking business

Rody: Aaw Did your SpideyBoo scold you again~

Deadpool: FUCK OFF, RACOON ANKLES!

Rody: HAH He did! HAHAHAHA No wonder he didn't come here to collect the money himself!

Deadpool mutters: Says he doesn't want it... Rody snorts and stops his laughter: Seriously? All that and he's just gonna walk away empty handed?

Deadpool: He doesn't do it for the money, you know this

Rody: Can't expect me to trust his word when I've only met him once. Could be lying

Deadpool: he's not

Rody: And how do you know?

Deadpool: ... Shut up I just do

Deadpool tosses the envelope back at Rody and gets up: And give this back. I don't need it anyways

Rody: Going soft, aren't we, Mr. Pool?

Deadpool: Fuck off

Spiderman has been ignoring Deadpool for a week now. He was angry. Upset. Absolutely disappointed and he wasn't sure how much more patients he has for his supposed 'Hero Partner' if he keeps going against his word.

Not to mention how difficult it was to ignore him at all

Deadpool: SpiderBabe I know you can hear me

Oh Spiderman could hear him alright, as well as the boombox he was holding over his head that played 'Careless Whisper'

Deadpool: I said I was sorry! Can't be work through this? Spiderman rubs his temples as he sits on the roof of a building, facing away from where Deadpool was disturbing traffic with his antics by standing on a stop light

Deadpool: I can change, baby! I can be better! Weren't you the one who always told me to give second chances? Spiderman groans: He's impossible...

Shoto's voice spoke through the ear piece behind his mask: He seems pretty reasonable from what I can hear

Spiderman: You're supposed to be on my side

Shoto: We never agreed on that

Spiderman: He's making fun of me Shoto: Pretty sure he's recreating 'Say Anything'

Spiderman: I can hear that

Deadpool: I'M NEVER GONNA KILL AGAIN! GUILTY HANDS HAVE SHOT THEIR BULLETS!

Shoto: I wish I didn't. He's not a very good singer

Spiderman: I should stop him Shoto: You should do it soon before he tries to recreate the saxophone solo

• • •

Deadpool: Spi-

Spiderman shot his web directly at Deadpool's face where his mouth would be. Though in effective to actually shut him up, he got his point across

Spiderman: No. You sit down and you listen- And stop playing careless whisper! Deadpool raised his hand sup in defense before turning off his boombox, walking backwards until he hit the edge of the roof and sat down. His voice was muffled by the webs on his mask: You want me to call you Master too?

Spiderman takes a deep breath and turns away Shoto: If you asked, you could probably make him bark

Spiderman muttering to himself: I regret introducing you to Shinso...

Spiderman turns off his communicator and takes off his hood, looking over at Deadpool who sat there fiddling with something Spiderman: Deadpool-

Deadpool: I'm sorry

Spiderman: Dead-

Deadpool pulls off the webs: No I really am. I know I talk a lot of shit and act on impulse but I mean it when say I didn't mean to betray your trust

Spiderman crosses his arms Deadpool: I know this is gonna sound unbelievable but I didn't mean to kill them. I was in a tough situation and my instincts kicked into high gear. Before I knew it we were falling and SPLAT!

Spiderman: ... Deadpool: I mean, stealing from an orphanage and threatening children deserves a lot more then jail time

Spiderman: ...

Deadpool: And I know I know, I have no right to say who gets to live or die, but I promise I'm trying this whole hero thing for real Spiderman: And what makes you think I'll believe you this time?

Deadpool was quiet, for a moment. Contemplating his answer: Because you love me..?

Spiderman: I'm leaving

Deadpool got him and grabs Spiderman's arm as he turned away: WAIT WAIT Spiderman: Why should I? I've been so patient with you, Deadpool. I know you're not a bad person, despite what you've done. But it's getting harder to trust you when you keep going behind my back like this

Deadpool: I know! I fucked up! I get that but I have a good reason now Spiderman: And what's that? And I swear if you say my ass I will web you by your balls

Deadpool stops himself from making a joke and reaches into one of his pockets. He pulls out a folded up piece of paper. Spiderman takes it confused Deadpool: You told me I was your hero. I wanted to keep being your hero by fighting with you to help people. I thought you'd be the only one to see good in me

Spiderman unfolds the paper and stares at the childish drawing of Deadpool holding hands with a child

Wobbly words written in crayon wrote "My Hero!"

Deadpool: Apparently someone else sees it too

Spiderman looks up to see his hero partner staring down at him. He seemed to have a soft expression despite the mask Deadpool: I never knew how it felt to be seen as more than just dangerous mercenary. But fuck it feels... nice. I wanna help more people like this kid. I wanna win for them so they don't have to suffer Spiderman takes a deep breath and leans forward, resting his forehead against his chest: Damn it. I can't believe your hero arc is actually appealing to me

Deadpool chuckles and raises his arms up wrap around his waist: Does that mean I'm forgiven? Spiderman: Kinda. I'm still upset with you and I still wanna throw you across the city-

Deadpool: Hot

Spiderman punches his gut lightly: But I think I can trust you again. Besides, it's getting boring fighting alone without hearing your obnoxious voice. Deadpool pulls Spiderman closer: Aw~ You missed me~

Spiderman rolls his head behind his mask and decides to play along. He looks up, tilting his head innocently: And what if I did? Can't blame me for missing /My hero/

Deadpool feels heart skyrocket at those words Spiderman laughs at the obvious flustered state of his companion and pushes himself away, tucking the paper into Deadpool's collar before he goes

Spiderman: I'll see you next time, Hero~

Spiderman winks and swings away into the light, leaving Deadpool on the roof Spiderman taps his communicator on: Hey Frosty. Updates?

Shoto: Suspicious activity down on main street. Updates on the Orange Wonder?

Spiderman: It was fine. We worked things out. I think things have calmed down a bit . . .

Denki: Dude can I have my boombox back

Katsuki hands the boombox over, an unreadable expression his his face as he walks to his room: Thanks, Denki

Mina whips her head around from the couch surprised: oohh someone's in a good mood~ Katsuki: Fuck off

Katsuki disappears into his room, leaving Denki and Mina to look at each other before rushing to the door. Both pressed their ears against it to listen in on their friend

Eijiro comes over with a bowl of chips: Whatcha doing? Both Mina and Denki placed their fingers against their lips and, despite how unmanly it was, Eijiro couldn't help but lean over as well to listen in.

Katsuki's voice was muffled behind the door: Fuck... Fuck ah fuck shit fuck... Spiderman... fuck Immediately all three friends moved back to the couch as far away from Katsuki's room as possible. they didn't need to hear any of that during movie night!

Inside his room though, Katsuki continues to pace around his room, a wide happy grin on his face. He's never felt so happy before in his entire life and had no clue how react to it. He jus started walking around cursing and holding his chest, unable to stop the beating of his heart as he replays that scene over and over in his head. He couldn't help but imagine what would've happened if he pulled up both their masks and smashed their lips together. The thought of kissing his first love made him giddy inside

/Gross/

Katsuki: You're gonna kill me like this, Spidey...

#BkdkSpiderPool #bkdk #mha bkdk #bakudeku #bakugou katsuki #katsuki x izuku #midoriya izuku #deku #kacchadeku #kachan #spiderpoolau #fanfic #writting #story #bkdk fanfic

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kararuthmilton · 8 months

Text

Scapegoat

Part 1

The Bishop’s hands linger on my skin. They linger on my arms and neck and the small of my back and ankles and calves from the day he hitched my heavy skirt up my thighs and touched me. I watched as he lifted his cassock and fondled at the black slacks he wore and pulled his erection free and… now he stands in front of me as I crouch half-naked before him, swollen belly tight as another contraction pushes my baby down the birth canal and I still feel the Bishop’s hands, hands that now hold fresh towels rushed over by Swiss guards and I want to scream, to scream and lash out, to lash out and swipe a wing at the Bishop's throat and slash it with a sharpened feather for what he did to me.

“Breathe,” says Andrea, “you’re doing so well.”

He rubs a hand between my wings which are spread for balance and to cool my aching body. I rest my head against Andrea’s white cassock, distracted by the red leather of his shoes, symbolic of spilt blood of Catholic martyrs, and the bloodied feet of a dear, dead friend. I never intended to give birth in this chapel, but in the room made up for me in the Papal Palace. Had I gone into labour there, I would have had a private birth either in or beside my double bed, with Andrea and sister Bernadette as my only companions. Now I am surrounded by people, some with smartphones and hand-held cameras, others with crucifixes of wood and silver praying in Italian and German, English and Latin, Amharic and Mandarin. I do not want them here. I want them to leave.

Another contraction, another wave of pain, worse and closer than the last, wracks my body and travels up my back, across my stomach and down my legs. I grasp a handful of Andrea’s cassock, spoiling the pristine fabric with filthy hands and pull him down. Kneeling so we are face to face, he sweeps my long white hair back from my cheeks, cups them and kisses my head. My heart pounds in my ears and I lift my arms to cradle my bump, swallowing past the rising bile in my throat. Andrea breathes and I breathe with him. Once my breathing calms, he smiles. When the Bishop smiles, his eyes are cold and distant, as if they hold a secret, but when Andrea smiles, his eyes smile with him, framed by crows feet which crease his olive skin.

I look around at the awe-filled faces of the visitors to the Vatican who edge closer, shoulder to shoulder to get a better look at me and my rounded belly, hoping to catch a glimpse of a child conceived of angel and man who is yet to be born, far more interested in me than the several-century old artwork hand painted on the walls and ceiling of the Sistine chapel, which they all had originally come to see.

Anxious that they are getting too close to Andrea, the plain-clothes Swiss guards move closer to their young Pope, blocking the visitors from getting too close to him, leaving me open to hands of different colours and sizes reaching out like the living dead to touch me. I fold my wings and pull them in tight across my back. The long flight feathers are trampled and pulled at the sensitive roots beneath uncaring feet. I hiss at the visitors and a few retreat, but a few move closer still, spurred on by their curiosity. Andrea runs his thumbs over my cheeks to calm me and raises his voice, telling them to stop, but his words are lost in the din of prayers and blessings spoken in a wild cacophony of languages.

I resist the urge to push as my baby’s head sinks deeper still. The flash of a camera to my left startles me, and I snarl, shaking my wings until each white, iridescent feather sharpens into a narrow blade of crystal, raised at the shaft, a clear warning I am unable to hold for long in my weakened state. The feathers fall back into their soft, harmless form, doing nothing to drive them back. They move closer and lay their hands on my wings and shoulders, stroking, squeezing, patting, teasing, wrenching, grasping, arms over arms, hands over hands, voice after voice after voice, a mixture of words of wonder and prayer. I catch words here and there of bless, child, angel, God and fallen, devil, forgiven.

The Bishop turns to a plain-clothes Swiss guard who then looks to Andrea for permission which he grants. I do not hear what they say to one another, but the guard soon turns to the visitors and calls two more guards who follow suit. A wave of nausea sweeps my stomach and chest. Andrea takes a towel from the Bishop- who pulls the visitor's hands from me- and dabs at my cheeks and forehead with care. I drop my head forward and rest it on Andrea’s shoulder, groaning low, waiting for the nausea to pass. The visitors disperse a few at a time, disappointed that they do not get to witness the birth of my child.

I breathe through another wave, shorter and more intense than the last, and turn my head. The guards stand at the entrance with several other plain-clothes guards who create a line, blocking the view, discarding smartphones until the people they belong to agree to leave.

I press my head into Andrea’s shoulder and lean forward with a moan, willing my body and mind to relax to welcome my child into a world that has proven time and time again to be unwelcoming to my young.

The Bishop massages my shoulders, and for a brief moment, I wish the visitors were still there clawing at me. I shrug his hands away and pray that his touch will linger no longer than it already has.

#chapter 1

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monomaniacmetropolitan · 10 months

Text

EXCERPT #1 FROM ABATTOIR

Clenched teeth fingernails humming, I tear off a piece of charred dead-skin from the heel of my naked foot and plaster it onto the rocks below me. I mark my spot. Blood residue and skin flakes seep into the Crag and hug themselves from underneath, bringing both ends together like an ouroboros. The wailing man to my left, William Blake, curses himself and holds his clenched fists skyward. Flecks of dirt like little children cling dearly to his skin. Naked, he convulses—as does the muddy child in front of me clinging to the hairy thigh of Marva who is forty-something and also naked. Her eyes are hollow. Her breasts sag like the peeling skin on my back and unshaven cock. I am naked on all sides. Naked, not only because my skin is uncovered, but nakedly mirrored as well, in every direction, endlessly. Kneeling peeling, I am one amongst a sea of unclothed eruptions of meat and flesh and wails. We are all hairy and dirt-plastered here; without razors, which is a shame since I would, if given the chance, slice rings into my eyes with a razor’s rusty edges and gouge my life.

The Crag is us and we are the Crag. Oblong, composed of mostly pegmatite, and rising toward a sharp central peak, the Crag sits atop rough waters. I imagine it is one massive, jagged raft: a flotsam which just barely breaks the static of endless waves and storm. This carnival of meat is a mere necessity of the meager land left afloat. We were not the first on this rock, though we may be the last. Underneath my feet lies hundreds of conjoined histories—unknown corpses crushed and danced upon at all hours by the wretched few outliving them. The weak fell and sowed the seeds for this garden of flesh and bodies. Perhaps when I die, my organs will fuel the harvest of an even hungrier age, an even more wretched bunch of survivors. Perhaps my skin flakes will be plucked from the ground and used to salt the desperate masses. Oh, how I wish the hand of a smiling irrigator would reach down from the clouds and pull me out of this garden by the roots. But the sky remains forever unresponsive, even to my throat—worn down from constant screaming.

Schroder, to my right, exhales for the last time. I miss the sound of his death rattle over the wailing all around me. Like all of us, he is naked. It is a shame to die unwatched, unaccounted for. The exact moment of his death remains a mystery to me. I imagine it exists somewhere alongside hordes of hourglasses languidly draining their sand. Some would say death resembles the moment when the last grain of sand in an hourglass falls from its upper chamber.

Watching Schroder’s corpse leak fluids, I would rather liken death to the moment when the amount of sand left in an hourglass changes from a ‘mound’ to a ‘grain’. I feel that if I could reach out and point to that moment, I could understand Schroder’s unseen predicament; I could eulogize him better. But we are all unseen here. All naked and invisible. I have yet to witness a set of eyes peeking out from above the storm-ridden clouds. How I long for that sight. “What is there to leave behind?” he asked me twelve-hours before death. I had no answer. I felt a pang of sadness anyway. Such is loss.

Waves splash relentlessly against my ankles, creating small rivulets of water which seep into holes in the rock. When we are not scratching each other's bodies into sacks of striped meat and flesh, our hands are held aloft, our eyes cast to an unresponsive sky. Nights are filled with blindness; only unanswered shouts break the static. We are packed together like rats—shoulder to shoulder, arm-in-arm, head-locked and hopelessly entwined. If it is not William Blake who blindly curses God or Demon or mother or child, it is another poor soul, distantly clawing their eyes out, shoving rubble into their ears and mouth. We are not the ecstatic stragglers of a failed e; our minds are not turned toward the transcendent, toward what might lie beyond. Every moment of our waning days is spent in physical agony, in constant sensations of pain and affliction.

My body is decaying. The callouses on my feet have become green and pus-filled. Every half-minute I raise my foot into the air and pick at its underside with untrimmed fingernails. My scratches leave red marks, frequently tearing the skin in a burst of blood and pus. This repeated self-mutilation is the only relief I have left. The hoodie and sweatpants I wore many years ago have melted into thin strips of bloodied fabric, fused into my skin forever like guinea worms. My emaciated muscles sport layers of scratches and scabs, all crusted over one another, breaking the surface of my skin into personalized peaks and valleys. In this bookless world, the scars and deformities of our bodies are the only physical records we keep. We count the days and weeks in ruptured pustules, healed scabs, and menstrual cycles. Even this written record you are reading; I carved it into the flesh of my thigh with a rusty pin. Its words and sentences lack the Roman lettering of English. Instead, I composed it as a system of non-repetitive signs, each corresponding to an instantaneous sensation immediately forgotten after it passes; ‘gibberish,’ some would call this system. I call it a testament to this punishment which I have never quite wrapped my head around. I suspect in 1000 years if somehow, I were still alive, the reasons for this punishment would yet evade me.

If I were to dive out only a few yards into the sharply deepening waterline, I would be thrust underwater and pinned against protruding rock faces. All who jump in, even for a moment’s swim, are drowned. There is no freshwater here; the process of drowning is doubly long and painful. I have seen hopeful seafarers impaled through the limbs and chest by shards of wooden rafts. Most have come to terms with the fact that the ocean is absolute and unyielding.

Some of us here—the more superstitious wailers—condemn the idea of anything existing beyond the Crag. “The universe is a rock and the biting waters beyond are a human personification of death”—as if the stormy horizon encroaching on all sides is a visual illusion, a kind of metaphor collectively realized by our hunger-worn minds. Some theorize that if, instead of humans, bats had been restricted to this desolate crag of rock, the impassable barrier surrounding the rock would manifest not as an eternal ocean but a storm of aural frequencies. Endlessly confusing drones of unintelligible, ear-splitting noise. Sounds which would drive any venturesome bat to madness or death. I have seen shapes drifting across the horizon which resemble birds, even exotic varieties: fruit-colored quetzals and massive albatrosses—but never any bats.

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