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kaicubus · 1 year

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Golden Hours | Urogi

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warnings ✩° : 18+ smut, fucking from behind, size difference, sex with a demon obvi, cursing, calling reader toy names, creampie, a bit of a breeding kink, cervix kissing, possessiveness, praise praise praise, consensual sex, treating reader like a toy/ragdoll, biting and marking.

pairing ✩° : urogi x fem hashira!reader

premise ✩° : in your chance to flee from hantengu, his most happiest clone ends up finding you. with the ground nor air being safe from his territory, you’re met with the chance to fight him mid air, but quickly realize that your life is nothing but a toy meant to be played with. to him, some toys are meant to break.

word count ✩° : 5.9k (holy shit)

authors note ✩° : 3/4 LETS MAKE IT BACK HOME SOON!!! i realized ive never explicitly said that these clones are taller than the reader, but they are. i figured it out btw and from now on you guys are my succubabes or succubabies depending on which one i feel, so no anon its just...succubabe...yk?

©kaicubus do not steal

part one here!

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Was this the same demon from before? There was no way. The demon standing in front of you looked no where near as miserable as he did before. Rather than a look of dejection and fear, the demon smiles, his golden eyes glistening with delight. You’re unable to look away from his horns and golden eyes as his smile just grows wider and wider. Was it really the same demon who was crawling on the ground before?

Except, only now, this demon had the ability to fly. The ground was no longer safe, and that meant on all levels, you were certainly not. Upon looking closer, the demon’s feathered, burgundy wings weren't the only avian trait he had as his arms were replaced by a talon-like appendage complete with a soft, yellowish, scaly texture. There was only one clone Hantengu was capable of creating that looked like this, and it was Urogi, the demonic representative of joy.

The mere sight of his demonic appearance makes your chest tighten. How could there be such a beast hidden inside a frail, old man? Urogi was tall, boisterous, and smiled so wide, you’d think that was his natural face. He was nothing like Hantengu, which all the more frightened you. With open, golden eyes, his stare is similar to that of an eagle, hyper-focused and tactile.

Urogi also seemed to jingle when he walked, or at least stood still since he appeared to be studying you from afar. With only black pants and a chain of yellowed pearls around his waist, Urogi’s wings flutter, giving you only a second to leave the ground before he wraps his arms around you and flies upwards. You scream out as the wind cuts your face, using a natural force so strong it blows your sword right out of your hand. One glance at the demon wrote your fate, and you could tell he wasn't planning on letting you down at all. His yellow eyes instantly meet your scared, frightful ones.

Seeing the horror on your face, Urogi laughs, showing off his razor sharp fangs, “Oh~! I caught myself a cute one! Aren’t I lucky today~!” He says and tosses you up for a second, “She’s so small! Wow~! No horns, no wings, you’re a human, aren’tcha? What a lucky find!” He can barley contain himself.

You scream in response, clinging onto his exceptionally muscular arm in hopes to pierce his tanned skin with your nails to do any sort of damage, “LET ME GO! LET ME GO! UROGI!” You curl your fists and try delivering several blows to his back, but he doesn't seem the slightest bit bothered. Urogi just continues to laugh.

“What’s that? You want to be let down? But we’re having so much fun! Why stop?” The demon catches you in his arms and squeezes you tightly, “I bet you just want to go higher, right? Then let’s go!” He flies higher and higher, removing the noises of all your screaming and replacing it with thick sounds of ‘fwoomp!’ ‘fwoomp!’ ‘fwoomp!’ of his browned wings, each time getting louder than the next. You try to kick and scream, and fight back most of all, but to Urogi, it only seems like you’re having the time of your life. So he flies higher, higher than the trees, higher than the mountains, and higher than the clouds.

You can feel yourself getting dizzier by the second thanks to his speed and fondness of swirling in circles. Maybe you could somehow cut off his wings? Boil him in a hot pot of water and cook him? No, it was impossible to even get a look on this guy. He’s too fast.

“Wahaha~! How delightful! I haven’t felt the air like that in so long. I almost forgot how fun that was!” His grip tightens around your hand, taking the opportunity to lock his talons between the spaces of your soft, now sweating hand. The slightest bit of strength could send streams of blood running down the creases of your palms, that’s the part that makes your blood run cold. Urogi keeps you in his hold, similar to that of a death grip, gripping onto its prey.

“L-Look!” You shriek, managing to catch your breath, “Urogi, right?”

The demon slows down and looks at you now hovering in the air, his eyes glowing in the night sky, “That’s me!” He chirps, “How do you know my name, human? Oh, could it be? You’re one of those hashiras? Demon slayers?” Urogi asks and suddenly tosses you in the air, adjusting his hold on you when he catches you again. Now, you're directly against his chest, up close and personal with the demon who you’re sure is about to kill you.

“That’s right! B-But, you want to live right? Fly around some more? I can make that happen. My name is Y/n and—”

“You’re a human! But you’re so...small. I’ve never seen someone like you around, did you come all this way to find me?” Urogi swoons and twirls around again, making you scream, “For some reason, I really like that. I like how you scream like I’m going to kill you! It makes me so happy.”

You hold onto the demon, clinging onto his shoulders and staring at him in shock. Only now do you realize how, pretty? he looks.

“I’m not going to drop you! I’m nice with my toys, don’t you trust me?” For your sake, you had to trust him, so you nod, “That’s good, I’m glad you do. But you see, Y/n, the thing about me is that...you shouldn’t really go doing that. But it’s so fun to make humans think they can trust me! But, you are different. You’re my favorite. You stayed this long, right?” You nod again and look up at the demon, who’s still holding onto you with his talons biting at your flesh.

Happy with your answer, and blind trust, a grin spreads across his face and his golden eyes widen owlishly, letting his tongue fall loose and hang off his bottom lip, offering you the sight of his branded kanji before he says, “Kidding.”

Then, he lets go. Just like that, the demon watches you slip from his grasp, black pupils constricting into a much smaller size just to focus on the image of your body quickly falling through the misted clouds, out of his vision. Up until this moment, you’ve never been this close to dying. Your heart pounds inside your chest, which feels to be concaving due to the newfound pressure slamming down on you.

There was no right way to fall from this height. Back, front, side, would all result in some sort of injury to your human body, but you had to choose one. If you manage to get lucky, you’d ideally fall on a bush or patch of leaves to cushion your fall. Better yet, the trees could catch you. However, you’ve lost sight of the laughing, winged demon, which only meant one thing. Ground was soon approaching.

With only a second to spare, your eyes widen and you manage to spin yourself around to see what you could possibly land on, but at that time, it was too late. Before you knew it, your body had completely landed on cold, hard dirt, rocks and smooth pebbles hitting directly into your skin, thankfully being protected by the thick fabric of your hashira uniform. Your arms and legs were now sprawled out away from your body, face well planted into the ground for only a little before you gasped out for air.

Even if it were any other hashira higher or lower than you, no one could’ve survived that fall. But for some reason, you did. Still, the pain was unbearable and it feels as though several of your bones had broken upon impact, but none actually were. Only a few cuts, scrapes, and bruises blooming around your otherwise perfectly normal skin. Now wasn’t the time to appreciate life, or writhe in pain, but to pay attention and turn around before Urogi returned to bat you around like his next meal.

But your speed is no match for his. Suddenly, a force lands directly on top of your back, causing you to choke out once more. Only this time, you knew exactly what the force was.

“Wow~! You survived from that high up? I knew you wouldn’t break. That’s why I want to play with you even more!” Urogi laughs and places his knees on either side of you, caging you down. With your back facing his chest, you can’t see anything. Which is just another disadvantage, the main one being your position right now. Instead of leaning down to talk to you on the ground, Urogi picks you up so that you’re on your knees, bending your back to be extra close to his newfound toy. “You smell so sweet, Y/n, I could just eat you up~! I haven’t eaten a human in so long...I really miss the taste...do you think I could try? I’ll be gentle~”

Before you could say anything, the sharpness of Urogi’s ivory fangs sink into your shoulder, sending a full body jolt of electricity down every single nerve you have. But it doesn’t feel bad at all. It’s too much to process, that you don’t even realize that a small noise escapes from your throat. Neither does Urogi, until,

“Mmfgh!” the muffled noise returns, louder when he suckles on the sensitive area. Only then does Urogi stop entirely, leaving you both in silence.

Your face flushes a bright shade of red full of embarrassment. If you could crawl into a deep, dark hole and die, you would without zero hesitation. As if it couldn’t get any worse, Urogi spirals into a fit of laughter and lets his head fall back, black hair falling onto his bare shoulder, “Hah? Did I catch that right? Was that...no, it can’t be.” The demon returns right back to your ear, pressing his grinning face against your heated one, “Did you like that? You liked it when I bit right here?” His tongue greets your shoulder once more, flicking the tip of it over the bite wound, causing you to yelp out again. Now, Urogi was certain, you liked this, and better yet, you liked him.

“I-I—” You struggle to form words. The thought of coming up with a lie on the spot only made the growing heat surging in your stomach swell, there was no way you could muster out anything but a low breath of indecisiveness.

”I thought it was just the thrill of being up in the air! But your heart speaks other wise. It went, bump, bump, bump!” Urogi laughs and presses his lips against the side of your face, planting a quick peck to catalyze your reaction harder. With each ‘bump’, he laughs more.

Now more than ever you wanted to kill him. It was bad enough having him laugh at your capabilities to fight, but now laughing at your body’s betrayal and inability to hold back when you’re turned on? He had to be the most annoying clone you could’ve gotten when you sliced off that sad excuse of a demon’s head. Urogi was so close to you though, it was impossible to think of anything other than his pounding chest, thick scent of sweat and musk, and firm arms hugging either side of you. Let alone the fact his hakama pants lack any structure or lining, making it very easy to tell that he’s very happy with you right now.

You bite your lip, too shy to admit the truth that you could possibly feeling something other than immense hatred towards a demon, but Urogi knew. Deep down, it made him beam, which reflected in his obvious, signature toothy grin. He always knew what you wanted.

Much to your shock, you don’t resist when Urogi’s chin fits ontop of your shoulder, rolling back your skin and hair to watch your expression when his hands travel inside your uniform. Sharp, claw-like finger nails trace send shivers up your body, feeling the spongy texture of your flesh accepting his cold touch. You suck in a short breath, not getting used to how bright his eyes are, but when you least expect it, he lets his excitement get the best of him and ends up tearing your white shirt to shreds and buttons flying.

“Urogi.” His name leaves your mouth as a hushed warning, prompting the eager demon to look up at you, “Please be more gentle with my things!”

From now on, you keep watchful eyes on the overly excited demon, not daring to look away in hopes of catching him if he does something violent. But, to your surprise, he doesn't. Urogi watches how your body involuntarily inches back into him as he massages circles into the smoothness of your chest, swirling the tip of his nail in light, thin strokes.

He looks strong, but he knows as a human, he’s supposed to be gentle with you. With all his experience with fighting, he’s well aware of the limits he’s allowed to push before he breaks someone. That’s why he’s so eager to play with you. No one has ever wanted to be played with by him before or even survived from a height that great before.

“I can’t wait...” He giggles to himself and tears your shirt further, exposing your breasts to the open sky, and more importantly, to him. “You're so beautiful I’m so excited to get started with you!”

Urogi eagerly leans forward and hugs you tightly, the softness of your chest easily falling into the palm of his claw-like hand. It’s cold for a bit, but quickly heats up when your body does.

His claws begin to knead your supple skin, feeling your tender breasts move in the same circular motion of the palms of his claws. It’s so cold, yet the feeling itself makes your body surge with heat. Not to mention that it doesn’t take long before Urogi discovers your nipples, appearing just as small buttons to him to press, squeeze and tug at, which would in turn give him the same sweet, high-pitched whimper he was already growing so fond of.

Urogi chirps happily and kisses the side of your neck again, licking his branded tongue just below your ear lobe, “More…I like it when you do that.” He rolls your nub between his claws again, causing you to jerk forward and cry out just a little louder, “It’s so cute~ I could listen to it all day~ Such a cute noise from such a cute human~” His voice is soft, yet still energetic and bouncy like normal, “Hehe...poke poke! Does it feel good here? Or here?” Urogi’s wings thrust him forward into the curve of your ass, making you fall forward a little bit before he cups your breast again, holding you closer to his chest.

He was toying with you, pushing your buttons just to make you squirm. Sure, it embarrassed the hell out of you, but it also made you incredibly horny. There was no way out of it. With his hands invading all sorts of personal space, your mind starts to wander into depths you’ve never thought you’d discover, like what it would be like to be fucked by a demon? Surely his strength would kill you, but Urogi’s smarter than that. He knows not to break his things, especially things he calls ‘precious.’

You flush hotly at the attention on your chest, and Urogi using you as a ragdoll didn’t help. But before you could get too used to his soft mumbling, pinching and squeezing at your nipples, and his palm rolling over your chest, Urogi stops and stands up, leaving you missing his strangely, warm touch. As if he knew what you were thinking, Urogi smiles and kisses your lips for just a second before pulling away. Now, you can’t see him. What kind of cruel game of hide and go seek is this?

“Might as well try something else while I’m here.” Urogi’s voice is low, sultry, and drastically different than before, just for a second. You turn around, currently in a warm embrace with Urogi’s arms locking you in place, and flash him a teary expression which only made him more excited to throw you forward onto the ground. Moving forward, Urogi places his hand on the small of your back and presses his open palm on your shirt, grasping the thin fabric in a tight bundle before ripping it right off you, along with your skirt. You gasp at the sudden intrusion, arching your brows in an expression that screams ‘stop ripping my fucking clothes apart!’ but you couldn’t exactly see Urogi. Instead, you arch your back as little, delicate touches scrape along your curves and thighs, making you instantly calm down.

“D-Damn.” The demon says, holding his wrist to his mouth, “I wish I got a hold of you sooner~ You didn’t tell me you’re wet down here~!” Urogi could hardly contain his excitement. “Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle for you, my precious hashira~”

Your face reddens at his tone. With his knees locked on either side of you, you squirm a little, letting the worst get the better of you, only dreaming of him being inside you. You couldn’t remember the last time you were this turned on. In fact, there wasn’t a time. It was only now. Under such a sadistic looking demon who practically feeds off of your embarrassment and worse, laughs at you. Urogi was so close to you now, you could feel his presence, giggling while he worked the waist band of his pants down, pulling it down to expose his what you could only guess was his cock. True to your suspicion, a simple glance from between your spread open thighs told you that what you were seeing was exactly what made your stomach knot.

Except, what you hadn’t expected was that Urogi was much bigger than you thought. His member was thick, had to be at least 8 inches, maybe more, but the mere sight of it made your mouth salivate, and your knees weak. His member was already hard, twitching in anticipation at the sight of your drooling, puffy pussy like it knew exactly where to go.

But Urogi waits for a bit with his cock in a tightly curled fist, grinning down with an open smile and arched brows, watching your hips bump back into him involuntarily and just so soft your ass looks.

“U-Urogi...” You mumble silently, looking over your shoulder back to him, “What are you waiting for?” Already, his newfound silence was making you nervous. Especially because you knew he was staring. Never in your life have you felt so exposed, with your ass high up in the air, slightly arched upwards with the help of Urogi’s hand, where there was no room to hide anything and everything was put on display to his hungry eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” The demon grins, placing the head of his sticky cock between your folds, earning a small gasp from your end. That was enough for Urogi to chirp with delight and pull your body forward.

“A-AHN!” You throw your head forward and grab onto anything, dirt, rocks, leaves, your own skin just to accommodate for his length. Drawing in a rattling breath, you open your eyes only for them to fall shut again whenever you try. Urogi’s member was practically splitting you open, thick veins pumping inside of your sticky walls without him even moving.

His cock sinks into you, filling your tight walls until you begin to whimper in protest. Even when you think he’s finally in, you look over your shoulder to see that there were still a few inches left of his blushed member still waiting to be buried inside your sweet pussy. Urogi can’t help but relish in how good you feel, his dick twitching inside you with a fascinated looking on his face, shocked and eager to see how much more you can take.

“I had no idea that a precious human like you could take this much!” Urogi pants, “You’re so small, i-it feels like you’re sucking me all in! What other surprises do you have for me?”

“Hol-ly shit. I-It’s just...so much bigger than I expected, Urogi...” You tell him simply, batting your dark lashes up at him, your fists curling into the cold ground below you.

“What~? Were you expecting me to be smaller? No way~! No way~! It’s not my fault you’re so small to begin with.” Urogi snickers, “Maybe you just can’t handle my cock, hm? Big, scary demon cock too much for a precious human like you?” He leans forward and pushes more of his length inside of you, grunting at the tight fit. You cry out, sweat forming instantly on your brow, and your heart threatening to leap out of your chest any minute now.

Within seconds, your body turned into flame. Your thighs almost instantly start to burn with desperation simply because of the way he moves with such passion and excitement. His burly arms twitch closer to your sides, using one of them to cup your breast again and squeeze it firmly, admiring how soft your skin is while burying his face deeper into your hair. Maybe it was a good thing you didn’t see him in this moment, because his reddened face, eyes squeezed shut, happily inhaling your scent would only turn you on more.

When did you start feeling this way? Especially towards your opponent? Especially towards a blood thirsty demon? Bloodlust was what you were taught back home, to be weary of a demon with extreme bloodlust. But no one told you how much more difficult it would be to deal with a demon with intense lust, period. Urogi caught you off guard many times, and even now, with his legs straddling yours, your face stuffed into your arms and your hips in the air, and his cock gradually making way into your insides, deeper and deeper by the second.

“S’too much! I-I can’t handle it-” You try to pull away but he keeps you still, not letting up on his robust grip and instead forcing every last inch of his hard on into your already throbbing cunt. Inch by inch, he buries himself deeper into you, using his thumb to hoist your waist up higher, just enough to slide your body onto his length better.

“It’s so warm inside you.” Urogi chirps, already panting with pure love and happiness in his mind. His talons dig into your waist, leaving pointed indents into your skin, the pain quickly becoming too much to bear. “I’m so happy~! I could stay here forever~ Holding you just like this, it really feels good to fuck you like this.”

His words make you realize that you have no sense of rational thinking left, your body isn’t even your own at this point. Overcome with the overwhelming feeling of his happiness crashing into you, your needy cunt squeezes down hard around the base of his pulsing cock, feeling how eager he is to fill you up the second his head kisses your sopping entrance. He was showing no mercy towards you, bucking his hips in different directions, experimentally testing to see which one you liked best, but didn’t pay attention to anything he liked because he liked them all. Hearing your voice and feeling you overstimulate him was enough for his satisfaction, he just wanted to enjoy the ride.

There was an unspoken agreement that Urogi had finally managed to squeeze his cock inside your pussy, stuffing every last inch of himself into your fluttering entrance. But what neither of you knew was that Urogi’s excitement would push his cock even further inside you, ramming past your velvety walls and right into the most tender spot he could manage to find.

“Urogi-nGH! FUCK! T-That’s too deep! S-Slow down, ah! Ah!” You can feel Urogi fuck his cock deeper into your abused cunt, despite your breathless concerns, but he fucked harder and more persistently, reminding you that that’s all they are. Concerns.

Urogi grabs hold of your chin and turns your face towards his, smiling at your fucked our expression. You had taken it for granted when you didn’t have to see the face that made you so vulnerably turned on, but now that you’re so close to him, you can’t avoid it. His name falls from your lips in a whisper before Urogi matches your glistening lips with his upturned ones, giddily initiating a sweet and tender kiss. There was no correlation between what his mouth was capable of and what his body was capable of, as his mouth was probably the sweetest thing about him, and his body the complete opposite.

The words, “Beautiful,” and, “Pretty,” come from under his breath, what would only be mindless praise and yet it ignites sparks within the depths of your core, that are enough for you to curiously grind your hips back between the lips of your soaked cunt, willingly taking more of him now more comfortably. You roll your bottom lip in between your teeth and exhale sharply, beads of sticky sweat gathering on your brow and forehead. How could anyone blame you for getting excited?

Urogi already treated you like a fuck doll, a toy only to be played with over and over again, with no concern of breaking it. But he also kissed you like he meant it, soon curling his branded tongue on top of your own, lovingly gulping down the saliva in your mouth, making polite slurping noises. All while pounding into you, his claws running up and down your stomach and chest.

“You taste so sweet,” Urogi coos and pecks your cheek, “So sweet my precious hashira. I’m going to fill you up so good you won’t even have to think about fighting anyone else anymore~ No one’s better than me, say it~?”

At that moment, you couldn’t hold back anymore.

A moan tears from your throat when you feel his length push past what you thought could never be reached, yet was so easily discovered by a demon by complete accident. Simply because he’s just too happy to realize it. You gasp out in shock and only continue to do so when Urogi’s hips quicken, now repeatedly prodding at the sensitive area, the head of his cock nearly splitting you open.

“Urogi! Ngh! Fuck! Fuck fuck fuck! U-Urogi~!” Hearing his name only makes him more happy, almost like adding wood to a burning flame, his smile grows wider and wider until he finally can’t handle it anymore and a pair of fangs bite right back into you, a place higher than before on the same shoulder. “MM!” You cover your mouth, and feel the brutal, raw strength of a demon abuse your pussy.

There’s a perfect mixture of pain from his cock wrecking your insides and hitting all of your sweet spots that leaves you speechless. You begin to sound almost strained as you choke back on your own breath from how you bite down on your wrist to hold back.

“You’re taking me so well. It’s like your body was made for me. That makes me so unbelievably happy~!”

Now it was clear. You adored being used. Being worshiped and loved, by Urogi and Urogi alone. Because he did so with such enthusiasm, in his strange yet exciting way, his cock now nudging the small, tender spot of your cervix in harsh movements, your sensitive walls spasm around his girth, causing you to cry out his name in multiple chants. Through teary eyes, you realize that your arms are now well decorated with deep, red layers of crescent marks, making your face hotter at the sight.

You love the feeling of shame and guilt swirling inside your head, and maybe it’s the confusion of if you should even be allowing something like this to even happen in the first place, but you absolutely love it. The feeling of having such a shameless demon fuck you senseless, or the feeling of finally getting the chance to be wild and free and partially in control. But the shame was overshadowed by the sheer feeling of love buzzing off of the demon, only thinking of what’s happening in the moment and how wet you are, dripping arousal from your oozing pussy and drooling saliva from your hung open lips. Urogi just can’t stop smiling.

“You're perfect,” You can barley hear what he’s mumbling, “So fuckin’ perfect! I’m so lucky!” His large hand places itself over your spasming abdomen, applying just the right amount of pressure onto the moving, aching bulge of his cock inside you. Now more than ever, his cock was heavy inside of you. Hot to the touch and so are you, which could only mean one thing.

You try to notice as many details as you could. His long hair, the way his wings flapped every now and then, and the way his pupils dilated in the pool of his golden eyes. You wanted to remember everything, especially the sound of his voice which had grown louder and more boisterous than before. If that was even possible.

Urogi can very well see the tears prick your delicate eyes, gathering globs of his overwhelming pleasure on the corners of your lashes threatening to spill onto your cheeks. Fully focused on the painful look of you struggling to not break, Urogi’s breath fans across your ear, nibbling on the shell of it, returning the same feeling you had gotten that started all this in the first place. “Look at you, taking me so well! It really is fun playing with a human~ but it looks like you’re so close to breaking, can’t hold on any longer, hhmmhm~?” He bites again.

“Nngh! S-So good-Urogi! M-MHMM! I-I’m not gon—fuck! U-Urog-hi!” You can’t even bring yourself to respond, hypnotized by the way his hips are drilling into you and how forcibly he’s moving. You can only scream out, anything goes, and hold out as best as you can. “Ngh! Hmm!” Suddenly, your body tenses up, freezing momentarily and squeezing his cock harder than ever. That’s what makes Urogi stop laughing and gasp out.

You can’t even bring yourself to say the words that would surely make his ego skyrocket, so you bite down on your arm and let his name fall out from clenched teeth. Urogi tightens his grip on your waist and chokes out, hips still thrusting into you sloppily, and hugs you tighter.

“So soon~? Ah, my precious hashira can’t take me anymore? Do you want me to fill your pretty pussy up? Poor poor human, I won’t even mind if you wanna go a second round? Or third?” Urogi laughs and stuffs his cock deeper into your fluttering hole, “Fourth? If we go five times I’ll surely be happy! Happier than anyone else in the world!”

His hair flops to the side, catching against his horns and throws his head back, turning into a rabid animal to which your body gladly accepts. He sucks in a breath at the feeling of your walls tightening around him, the warmth of your insides wrapping around him and refusing to let go just like he is. With an open mouth, Urogi groans your name, letting a thin string of drool fall down his chin, laughing when he looks back at you.

“You’re getting all tense, Y/n,” His golden eyes trail onto your back, slapping his hand over your ass, “You gonna break? I wouldn’t mind, promise!”

And break, you do. Under his hold, you feel a sharp force tighten low in your core, one final thrust of the head of his aching cock tears that knot in two and you finally scream out. With your perfect song piercing his ears, his hips buck up with ease, and he lets himself go. Warmth surges through your body as the demon’s hot liquid shoots inside of you, filling your sore, velvety walls up to the brim with cum. As you cry out louder, Urogi continues thrusting deeper, not even thinking to stop until he sees the mixture of the white, creamy fluid burst from out of your pussy and form a ring around his cock does he slow down.

With a chuckle, his eyes focus in and he settles, admiring the feeling of your sweet whimpers and even sweeter pussy clench onto him, twitching and oozing along with his cock spilling warm cum into you.

“Yes~! That’s it, fuck...mhm~” Urogi exhales, sticking his tongue out sloppily, “You’re amazing, just like that! My precious hashira’s so cute when she cums all for me~” You can’t bear it anymore. You stuff your face into your folded arms and whine out, tired of his constant praise and happiness, he finally reached a limit and now you were to embarrassed to even hear him. Urogi laughs at your response and pulls out entirely, watching the way his cock springs out inside of you, unintentionally slapping its weight against the curve of your ass just enough for you to twitch in surprise.

You bathe in his after glow, his golden hour, feeling the warm fluid gushing past your sore pussy lips and running down the inside of your thigh, some dribbling down the middle of your legs entirely. The sweet smell of sex and hot air panting from both of your mouths mixes into the cold, bitter night, making the scene weirdly comfortable, like you can stay there for longer if asked too. Just then, Urogi pulls your body to the side, flipping you over on your back, since he’s well aware you can’t do it yourself, and smiles down at you.

You hadn’t realized how much you missed seeing his face in it’s entirety. What was once smiling out of pure joy from seeing looks of terror and horror on your face, had turned soft and delighted, glowing with a dim light emitting from his squinted eyes and bright smile. You swallow nervously and look up at him through your lashes. His horns seem to be at their highest given your position, and he seems to be growing taller by the second. Urogi’s face isn’t at all calm though, he’s beaming with stray hairs scattering all over his head and sweating like he just got back from running miles, and his wings are fluttering as if they’re on edge from any small noise around him.

He’s panting breathlessly, and there’s a slight glisten to the tops of his thighs which you quickly look away from. He made such a mess out of you, yet he’s smiling about it?

“Wow~ That was fun.” Urogi exhales and pushes his raven colored hair up from his damp forehead, “Felt good, huh?” You nod your head and exhale in relief, “Well, my precious hashira, I guess that’s it then, right?” The demon pouts, smiling afterwards with a shit eating grin. You look up at him and part your lips to say something, but he cuts you off before you can. “You're free to go if you want. But I have a feeling you'd rather stay and have fun with me. Isn’t that right?”

He wasn’t wrong at all. How could you refuse?

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bitchimasnake-sss · 6 months

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"banter, baby!!" ft. the monster trio!

you know sometimes sexual tension turns into petty fights

ft. luffy, zoro, sanji x fem!reader

set-up: you knows and he knows and everyone on the fucking crew knows what is up between you two but instead of fucking it out (as you should), you both decide that it's banter time!

warnings: petty insults, pettier them, pettiest you

luffy:

- was luffy easygoing? yes. was he friends with almost everyone? yes. but was he also a dumbass who started to fight if he felt like it? also yes. - you're not sure how it started to be very honest, maybe you told him off and asked him to leave some food behind for the rest of the crew - that explained how the captain of the ship: strawhat luffy of the strawhat pirates, a man with an immense amount of bounty atop his head sat pouting in front of you with his arms crosses - that also explained why you also sat with your arm crossed, staring him dead in the eye - "luffy." you hiss, "stop being a baby and apologize." he looks appalled, "you stop being a baby and apologize." "you alMOST ATE ENOUGH FOOD FOR LIKE 8 PEOPLE FOR FUCKS SAKE?!" he looks solemn as he whispers, "a growing child has his needs" - what????? - you fold your arms tighter against yourself, causing your cleavage to be more prominent to his keen eyes, "you know somebody who looks at you wouldn't ever realize you're ace's brother." he pouts more, voice whiny now, "what does that mean?" "i mean he's so thoughtful and charming and a sensible human being and look at you, sharp as a butter knife!!" "YOU TAKE THAT BACK. I LIKE BUTTER!" - WHAT???? - "you're impossible." "uh-huh, uh-huh and i'm about to become more impossible now." "wha-" - dragged you to his room and showed you how impossible he can be

zoro:

- yeah, roronoa zoro was your sparring partner. yeah, one can say that you were a little bit mesmerized everytime his muscles rippled against his tight t-shirt. yeah, maybe you were drooling just a little - that shouldn't distract everyone from the fact that he was a smug, cocky asshole when sparring (its like you've been training since the age of eleven, stfu zoro) - "tch, yn. you can do better than that you know?" you hold back obscenities, narrowing your eyes, "shut up, how about that?" - he's sheathing the swords, standing against the deck with his arms crossed over his broad chest. he doesn't seem to have broken a sweat. a light hand runs through his cropped hair and he gives you a lazy smile, "you're quite weak, you know?" - he laughs a bit at your fuming state, finding some amusement in the way your cheeks burned an you held onto the dagger more tightly "you're pissing me off." your experienced hands throw the dagger at him, aiming for his head "am i?" his smile broadens as he catches the blade in his hands. he twists the blade on his palm, eying you leisurely, "maybe you should redirect all that anger into trying to land a blow on me, how about that?" - "you know, zoro." you plaster on a fake smile, "i have often heard a rumor about you" "what kind of rumor?" "ahh, just that you have a fourth sword." your smile drops, "just didn't know that sword was stuck up your ass." - his face fell for a second and then a smug smile crept across his face. his calloused hands found your wrist, leading you upto his room "how about we fact-check your rumor?" - uh lets say he does have a fourth sword. thats all.

sanji:

- honest to god, you had come here to help him prepare food. was he supposed to just be your cooking partner? yes. but were your eyes running over his flexing forearms as he hiked his shirt sleeves and cut something up? also yes. was it getting too hot here and you knew it wasn't even because of the food? also yes. - you were stirring the pot as sanji hovered behind you, his hand reached into the cabinet above you and momentarily, you were stuck between the stove and his body - and it's making you feel things - "sanji" you spoke abruptly, "get away from me, please." "huh?" he backed away, an apology ready on the tip of his tongue - maybe the blush on your cheek was evident because his expression changed from apologetic to smug. - he inched in closer, "oh, im sorry, my love" "stop it, stop getting so close to me" "oh, why? something wrong?" he drawled out "no, you just smell like fish right now. that's why, move it." - now why would you say that - he just chuckles, "you know, i am a cook, so i would smell like food. why? wanna devour me?" "no." you mumble nervously, "if anything, i am allergic to fish." - why would you say that again??? - "trust me, darling, you should give it a shot. maybe you'd like the taste?" he winked at the last statement - that night, you did give it a shot - maybe the cook is as delicious as the food he makes

a/n: listen to me, i just know sanji's banter will be straight-up flirting, i dont make the rules. hope you enjoyed lmao

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soapskneebrace · 5 months

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imprimatura

muses - part one - next

Pairing: John "Soap" MacTavish x f!Reader Word Count: 2.8k Rating: Mature (mostly Soap being Soap) Warnings: please see this post for notes about this reader character Also on Ao3.

An artist meets her muse, and a solider meets his.

He arrives early as you’re setting up for your students, in jeans and a tight t-shirt, and the first thing that crosses your mind when you lay eyes on him is Jesus, he’s fit.

You are no stranger to bodies. Hundreds of them have cycled through your studio, all shapes and sizes and colors; you think you may know every dip, every roll, every hard angle and soft curve that a human body is capable of holding. The mystique of defined muscle has long lost its novelty. Bodies are bodies, and each holds the same value as the next when subject to brush and canvas. It never matters, you teach your students, what a body looks like in the modeling chair. It only matters if they can reproduce it accurately.

Even so, when a body like this walks in, you really can’t help but take notice.

Decadent muscle, fed and worked well, round and full with hydration. It’s impossible to miss, even through his clothes; each group delineated clearly, gracefully, as if sculpted rather than built, and alive with soft, subcutaneous movement. It’s indulgent to look at, the comfortable breadth of his shoulders and chest down to that slight taper of his waist and bulk of his thick thighs. It’s a physique no hard-bodied gym rat could hope to achieve merely with extra time at the racks—a physique that is easily, harmoniously attractive in its makeup of muscle and healthy fat.

The man is also mohawked and suntanned, and his mouth rests at an angle that suggests he often smiles—as if he knows that Michelangelo would have swooned at the sight of him. He comes into your classroom, saunters over to you, and stops precisely two paces away from you.

“Sergeant John MacTavish,” he says, offering his hand. “I understand you’re the instructor?”

He has gorgeous, vivid blue eyes (pthalo and cremnitz, with a touch of hamsa). You blink several times. Fit is still rattling around your skull, and begins knocking against sergeant at the same rolling frequency as his warm Scottish brogue. You realize his hand is still outstretched and quickly take it to shake.

“Yes!” you say. His palm is tough, callused, and not soft in the slightest, but very warm. “Nice to meet you, sergeant.”

He gives a grimace. “John’s fine. Or Soap.”

“Soap?”

“Nickname, y’know.”

Neither of you have released from the handshake. Soap’s grip is firm, the kind of firm that suggests he can squeeze much, much tighter if he needs to. And if the grip isn’t any indication, the broad forearms, dusted soft with dark brown hair, certainly are.

Black lines, a sword and helmet framed in laurels, catch your notice. The ink has the soft edges of having lain in the skin for a few years. You turn his arm to see it more fully. “Oh. Nice tattoo.”

He looks at the ink as if it is entirely new to him, and then gives an easy grin. “Thanks. I’ve got a few more too. Hope they aren’t hard to draw.”

When you loosen your grip on his hand, he releases you immediately. You still feel the squeeze in your bones even as you drop your hand to your side.

“So, then, Soap,” you say, “have you ever modeled before?”

He shakes his head, tucking his hands into the front pockets of his low-slung jeans. It tugs the waistband just a bit, revealing a sliver of warm, tan skin (raw sienna, flesh ochre, naples yellow). “Should have, honestly, with how much it pays.”

“It gets very boring, very fast,” you say. “What do you plan to wear for the breaks?”

“Was I supposed to bring that m’self?”

You are unable to suppress a laugh. “Yes, unfortunately.”

“Oh,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck and going a little sheepish—as if expecting a reprimand. You suppose it’s a valid expectation to have, in his world. You aren’t terribly familiar with the military, but you do know it’s one hell of a stickler for rules.

You also can’t help but admire the appealing pull and stretch of his bicep and deltoid, the flex of his pectoral as he lowers his arm.

“Why don’t you wait here, and I’ll go see if I can find something for you?” you suggest kindly, letting him off the hook.

“Sorry,” he says, pretty blue eyes filled with genuine apology. “I’ll remember nex’ time. Thanks.”

The expression is so hangdog that you almost want to pat his head and noise at him reassuringly, like an actual dog. You press your lips together to hide a smile, and leave the studio.

When you get back from the models’ changing room, you find Soap with one hip against the counter where you’d been organizing your supplies, one knee loose and shoulders set at a relaxed angle. You want to laugh at his easy contrapposto. He’s going to be an excellent model. You can feel it.

It looks as if he’s moving around the sticks of vine charcoal with one outstretched finger; he pulls his hand guiltily away when you reenter the studio, crossing his arms over his chest as if to hide the evidence of his snooping. It makes his pectorals bunch and round out, gathers the thickness of his biceps up into chiseled, full definition.

You lift one brow at him as you walk over.

“Never could keep my hands to m’self,” he admits, still sheepish.

“It’s alright,” you allow, smiling back. “Do you draw?”

“Used to,” he says. He looks back at the charcoal. “No time, now.”

“Are you deployed often?” you ask, taking the opportunity to look at his face.

Beauty is cheap in art, but you notice it all the same—appreciate the strong brows, the hard angle of his jaw, the dark stubble of a beard you suspect he can’t keep shaved down, and the long scar that cuts through it across his chin. The light brown of his complexion is speckled with sun exposure, and there are the faintest of creases at the corners of his eyes, which you expect will deepen into genuine, gorgeous crow’s feet as he ages.

He’s not all rugged, though. There is a soft, thick curl to his lashes, which are as dark as strong coffee or expensive chocolate, and an equal decadence to the pink, plush little swell of his bottom lip—which, in the very middle, has the smallest of divots, as if he regularly spends time biting it.

They’re traits that are far too sweet to belong on an otherwise masculine face, and their effect is such that they turn an objectively average set of features into a shockingly attractive portrait—that suddenly has something fluttering, just a bit, in the roof of your stomach.

He looks at you, and catches your survey. You can see him realize you’d been watching, the knowledge of it blooming in ocean blue eyes like ink dropped onto linen.

“More often than no’,” he answers, showing teeth in a crooked, interested grin. And now he’s looking at you—attention flitting across your face, dropping down your body and jumping back up to meet your gaze. The creases deepen at the corners of his eyes.

The fluttering intensifies. The sudden role reversal has you feeling at once flustered and unmoored. You are never the subject of any perusal—always comfortably the observer.

“Well—” you try, and you’re embarrassed at the low tone of your voice. You clear your throat. “Well, let’s make use of the time we have you, then.”

His smile remains, cocksure and easy. “Let’s.”

He knows the effect he’s had.

“Anyway,” you say, blinking several times and proffering the sheet you’d retrieved, “none of the other models are your size, so I’m afraid this will have to do.”

He takes it in his hands, which are sun-dark and striking against the clean white linen. “So it’s a toga, then?” he asks.

“Whatever you like. Let’s go over the basics, and then you can undress.”

“Oh, already, aye? Y’move fast, hen,” he drawls, still grinning. “I like it.”

Heat rushes to your face, but you don’t feel embarrassed enough not to laugh. You busy yourself with tapping your charcoal sticks back in place, putting them back in an even row ascending in order of length, and saving yourself from having to look him in the eye. “Ha! We don’t do a lot of foreplay in this studio, I’m afraid.”

“No?” Soap hums, and he steps closer. He’s very warm, enough that you can feel it even with the space between you. You do have to look at him then. His eyes are half-lidded, lashes casting pretty shadows on his cheekbones as he gazes down at you. “That’s a shame. I’m right partial to it.”

Your brows lift, and you will your pulse to remain steady even as you inhale, catching a thread of—cologne? Aftershave? Just plain deodorant?—coming off of him. The scent caresses you, almost beckoning you to lean forward. You swear you can see the thrum of his heartbeat, there in the soft hollows by his Adam’s apple.

You blink. He is your model. “Well—I’ll try to set you up as best I can, anyway. Follow me, please.”

And you turn your back on him, because this is your workplace, and you are at work, and if you don’t get on with things you might do something stupid like actually flirt back.

Soap hadn’t been sure what to expect when he arrived at the art studio. He’s never been to one before, much less one housed in a university—which he has also never been to—and hell, he only ever took one art class in high school.

If pressed, he’d have imagined old brick walls covered in diagram posters, shelves of supplies in all colors, the smell of paint hanging permanently in the air. What he finds instead is modern, clean, and impersonal. Stage lights hang from fixtures in the ceiling, pointing at a platform in the back center of the room. A tight line of easels, all folded up, stand pressed into a far corner, next to a tower of stacked chairs, and waist-high cabinets line half the room against the bare, painted cinder block wall. The linoleum floor looks new.

None of this, however, has any opportunity to disappoint him. His final unmet expectation, standing across the room and organizing a tray of art supplies, is a very welcome surprise.

You’re bonnie. Like, every point on his wishlist bonnie. Christ, he must’ve done something really good lately, because he can’t imagine just lucking into this. There’s not a hard angle to you, all sweet and soft, but when you meet his gaze during introductions there’s a sharpness to you that skewers him through the chest. You are much smarter than him, he can tell immediately.

He’s always had a thing for smart women. Soft ones, too. And if that weren’t enough, you let him flirt shamelessly with you, while checking him out the whole time.

Steaming Jesus.

You direct him to get onto the platform and sit down, still clothed, in an armchair draped in another pristine white sheet. The stage lights are bright overhead, and they highlight free-floating wisps of your hair in gold.

“You want to ensure that you don’t rest your weight on only one or two points,” you explain. You have a nice voice. Steady, confident—this is your territory, your studio, and in it you are clearly the master. “The main danger is that your arms or legs might fall asleep, and you won’t realize it until you get up, in which case you’ll fall. We can’t touch you, so we can’t save you from that.”

“Y’canna touch me?” Soap repeats.

“Not without your explicit consent,” you say.

He smiles at you, the kind of smile he saves for bright nights at the pub over platoons of shot glasses. “I explicitly consent to you touching me.”

The corners of your mouth tug upward, just a bit, and you look away, clearly bashful. Something in Soap’s chest starts beating a drum. He knows already he’ll ask you to drinks after the class ends tonight.

“I doubt I’d be able to do much,” you say, “you’re a bit more substantial than the usual models.” Your eyes flick down his torso and back up.

“Guess I’ll have to follow your advice, then,” he says.

“You should,” you say, and he looks at your thigh shamelessly as you pat it—even beneath your jeans, he can see the ripple of the impact. “One of the worst-case scenarios is nerve damage.”

“So you have done this before!”

He can’t help it—Soap’s imagination runs wild. Titanic, draw-me-like-one-of-your-French-girls wild. It’s not exactly polite to imagine a teacher naked while she’s in the middle of giving him directions (and Jesus, what a concept, he might be half-mast already), but Soap has always found that people like it when he’s a little rude.

You drum your fingers. “I have.”

He finally hears the nerve damage part of your instruction. “How, uh—how bad can it get?”

The drumming stops. “For me? It just starts to twinge a bit if I sit on this side very long. So don’t rest your weight all on one hip, yeah?”

Concern assuaged that he had not ignored your genuine pain in order to objectify you, Soap grins. “Yeah.”

“Good,” you say. “Also—even if it doesn’t hurt, Soap, you can stop at any time, okay?”

That has him blinking. “Kinda defeats the purpose, doesnae?”

You shake your head. “It doesn’t matter. This is your first time modeling. You don’t know how you’ll feel, sitting here with your clothes off and everyone looking at you. If you need to stop, I want you to stop. I’ll make sure you’re paid anyway, so don’t worry about that.”

You are…so serious about this. The line of your brows is furrowed, imploring, like a little discomfort on his part is a violation of the highest order.

“Sure,” he says, a little dumbstruck and mostly lying. He’d be a rubbish soldier if he tapped out of a little thing like sitting down, but it’s nice that you care.

You purse your lips, nod, and then move onto the task at hand, stepping back and then down off the platform. When you begin to survey him—gaze flitting up and down his body, more pensive than appreciative—he has to resist the urge to flex.

Instead he watches you as you look at him. He especially likes, he decides, the slope of your nose and the smart, serious press of your mouth. You could get him all turned around, he thinks, if you gave it half a try.

Your tits are also great, but that’s by the by.

“Try resting your elbow up a little higher, and twist at the hips a bit,” you instruct, and Soap obeys. “Hm. How would you feel about crossing your ankles?”

You continue like this—nudging him in directions he doesn’t think make all that much of a difference, standing in different positions around the room to check the angles. He half-wishes he could step out of his body and join you, curious as he is about what you’re seeing, what your students will see. He’s not sure he has any clear expectations for how the class will go, but if you’re any indication, it’ll be more fun than he expects.

“Not sure if I’ll remember how to get back into this,” he says, partly to be helpful and partly to get you to talk to him again.

“I’ll help you, don’t worry,” you say. “Okay, I think that’s a good one, you can move now—I’m going to start setting up, the students should be here any minute.”

He stands, and you turn away to collect your supplies, so Soap figures this means it’s time for him to strip. He pulls off his shirt and drapes it over the chair’s arm, unbuttons his pants and shoves them down to his knees.

“Soap!”

He freezes. Then he looks at you. You’re blushing again, deep and saturated, mouth parted in surprise and hand pressed to your chest. He does not miss the quick flick of your gaze down his body; he’s probably violated some rule or another of the studio, but he can’t help but grin.

You’re adorable.

“Gotta happen eventually, right?” he says.

You cover your face with your palm. “I was going to leave the room first!”

“First time someone’s wanted to run away when I’m takin’ my clothes off, I won’t lie—”

“You just come get me when you’re done!” you say hastily as you beeline for the door. “I’ll be right outside!”

Soap chuckles a little when you’re gone, the door slamming mortified behind you, and folds his clothes up behind the armchair he’ll be sitting in. You’re so cute. He can’t wait to sit naked for you for the next three hours.

And he’s definitely asking you out for drinks.

Author's Note: THE PROMISED FIC. I really hope y'all enjoy this one, I've been teasing it since March and I have so many plans. This fic has a special place in my heart because it's drawing heavily from my college days--my bachelor's degree is in fine arts, and I have a lot of fond memories of many hours in the studio both as a student and as a model.

I expect this series will also have a looser timeline than my Neighbors series, so I'm open to suggestion in terms of scene ideas! I already have plenty, but if I know my mutuals, y'all might have some good ones as well. No promises I'll write them, but you never know.

Thanks everyone for your patience, and I hope you'll look forward to where this fic goes!!

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blueparadis · 10 months

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꒰ STUCK ON YOU ꒱ ⋮ JING YUAN [ CONTENT & TAGS ] — » f!reader x jing yuan, fluff, angst, undertones of smut, established relationship//word count — 1.2k// blog navigation.

Jing Yuan saunters across the chambers in his loose trousers, a serape wrapped from his back to his chest just to safeguard himself from catching a cold. The enormous windows connecting the chambers to the sundeck are still open letting the cold gusts of wind enter. The world is slowly sinking into darkness while he grows restless with each passing second. How could have this happened? This is the first time it went down this way, after his marriage with you. The general is earnest about what he does, and what he has been doing. He is one of the seven Arbiter-Generals of the Xianzhou Alliance's Cloud Knights and one of the Six Charioteers of the Xianzhou Luofu. How could he let it happen? Wait, was he really at fault for this?

The approaching footsteps reach his ears and he stares at the door of this sleeping chamber. Is it really you?

“What’re you doing here?” he grabs you by the shoulders as you walk into the room. His grip is firm enough to bruise you but you are used to it. It has been a few months since the marriage, and most of it went away in learning various rituals and traditions of post-marriage. However, when he had you all to himself he drained every bit of love from him into you that his fingertips could ever offer on the shores of your skin. But this has never happened before; you, away from home, away from him when he is about to come back from a warzone.

“I could ask you the same—-” You steadied yourself from the sudden disbalance caused by his hold on you. “What’re you doing here?” you deadpanned without flinching. Your husband cocks his face, seeing the ache in your eyes and deliberately mistaking it as a challenge or a mere tantrum. After all, you are the wife of the greatest general of all time. Not only him but everyone except the fire underneath your soul and a spark in your eyes yet here you are: caged by the man you took vows to be bound to him by life, death, and afterlife. You do not resist it. You never do. He knows that.

Jing Yuan knows how keen you are for him, how hungry your soul is for him because of all those stealing glances in between meetings, all those sneaky moments with you, taking tours in the town in the guise of common people, him buying you the prettiest flowers and the brightest gems, you kissing him under the oak tree where there was no soul to be seen; just you and him against the world—- were all those just a fever dream? Was he just your plaything and not the other way around ? Could it really be possible? What went wrong?

“What am I doing here?” He leans towards you enough to let his breath fan against your mouth but not to touch your lips with his. “I’m here for you. Can’t you tell?” He murmurs against your ears, deeply inhales your scent. He has missed you direly in times of war but he had never imagined that he would not see his wife when he comes home after winning the war. Whenever he came home, especially after wars you were there to greet him, to tend to his wounds and needs. He would search for you like a wounded predator seeking refuge but this time when he came home and you were nowhere to be found in his palace, he felt like he did not win at war. All those lives that he protects, all those lives that he just saved seemed useless. It is a wasted victory.

His grip loosens eventually. He still has not discarded the armor and changed into normal clothes. The sword is still tucked in its sheath, he could kill you if he wanted. After all, you defied so many things by coming here to your father’s home. You defied not only his dignity but also your morals, and went against all the rules and rituals that make you the wife of the general. But it was just too hard to keep up, too suffocating to breathe. You could not just take it—- the time apart that you have to spend every time he prepares for war.

No letters. No news. You can not even accompany him to the battle site. All you can do is wait and pray to the Gods while he fights. Jing Yaun will never understand how hard it is to hold on to hope when the grim reaper is banging at the door. He will never know how many sleepless nights you have spent thinking about him. He will never since he is always bestowed with your presence whenever he comes home; be it war or a mere chore. He would never fathom the agony of longing for you. But you can not possibly tell him that. He might be furious, he might get hurt, he might think it is childish and he might not take you home with him. There are so many things that could happen but you still had to risk it to see it for yourself, to let him feel what you have felt during the times of war.

“There are certain matters that need my attention. So, I had to come here. It was urgent.” You finally stated. The maids who were standing outside for your order entered the room for preparing a bath for him. It is dark outside. You can not let him go with a wounded heart and body. It is not right. Jing Yuan is standing at an arm's length from you, his glacial eyes boring at you while the maids fade into the adjacent room.

“Tell me. Tell me why. . . why are you doing this?” his voice is firm and loud. It is not of someone who is not a fertile thinker enough to put two and two together to get four.

“You know why. . .” that was barely a whisper but Jing Yuan’s heart never ached like this before. He has been through countless deaths, and he has witnessed his beloved turn into a ghost but being at arm's length from you and being unable to take away your pain is a salt to his wounds. He knows he had pained you enough. He can see it. He can see it now; when you look down with eyes so full of tears all he wishes is to make everything disappear, the maids, the rules, the customs that keep you apart from him; have you in his arms and the world aside enough not to disturb his time with you.

“Then, I shall stay here until you settle things here.” He exclaims as if he did not just break eons of traditions. After marriage, the husband never stays at his wife’s house, they never can especially someone with such a high rank as Jing Yuan but he has been earnest about what he does. He has been stubborn like a child obsessed with a particular toy since he met you and he shall not leave this place without his plaything. “I could assist you in work” he remarks as he swiftly closes the gulf between you two having you in arms crashing his lips on to yours.

The maids are still here. They could come out at any minute now but Jing Yuan does not budge. His hand slips under your robes, pulling them up and grabbing your thigh. His kiss grows hungry while you arch. Oh! How he has missed this scent. The sound of water ceases declaring that their work is done.

“more like distracting me . . .” you rasp pulling away from his fervent kiss. He rests his mouth against the column of your neck, breathing hard before draging his nose down your throat and finally freeing you from his hold. The maids inform and leave after doing the nesessities. You undress yourself while staring at your husband. He watches you as the dresses hit the floor one by one.

Jing Yuan's lips form a crescent, so full of thrill and joy. That's the spirit. That's the lioness Jing Yuan remembers falling for.

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rodolfoparras · 7 months

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its all fun and games thinking about price until you start thinking about Dragon!Price. What id let that dragon man do to me is horrifying. He'd be so warm and cozy! But also so so so possessive of you! Someone flirts, say goodbye to your ability to walk and say hello to a bunch of marks 👍

Thinking about Price being known as the mean old dragon living in the mountains and all the villagers fear him, have tried to defeat him only to end up dead and those who’ve managed to survive haven’t been able to tell the tale from the sheer shock of surviving the event. One day someone as adventurous or rather someone as foolish as you sets out to meet this dragon only to discover him tucked away in some corner of his cave while baring his claws at you, in an attempt to defend himself.

However you don’t take out your sword to hurt him, matter of fact you sit down on the cold concrete floor, pushing a small offering his way without coming any closer.

You read in one of the ancient books hidden away in the library that if you want to build a connection with a dragon you should try handing it an offer.

Although he’s in his dragon form you can see the confused look on his face, the slight tilt to his head and how his whiskers sway in the air before he approaches closer.

The smell of smoke becomes much prominent, dust raising from the ground as he moves his large body before he swiftly takes the offering in his mouth and quickly returns to his original spot .

He turns to meet your gaze only to see the soft smile on your face as you continue to sit in place.

This goes on for days, weeks, months, you’ll walk all the way to the mountain where the mean old dragon resides bring him offering before leaving for the night.

Despite taking up a dragon form he’s more human than you thought. You see the way his eyes light up when you bring him the fruit he likes, you see the curl of his lip, the smoke coming out his nostrils as if huffing when you reprimand him for eating so quick (you’re just trying to make sure he doesn’t get sick from the way he’s basically inhaling his offerings)

You even see the way he’s grown accustomed to you, sure he won’t try to approach but at least he no longer bares his claws at you.

It’s safe to say that you’ve formed some type of bond with the mean old dragon.

You don’t mention this routine to anyone, keeping it all under wraps while continuously visiting the him so it comes as a surprise when you arrive one day with offerings in your hand only to be met with the sight of the dragon bleeding out.

You drop the basket in hand, red apples falling to the floor and the loud thudding sound catches the dragons attention.

Before you know of it the dragon is lunging at you, only to narrowly miss when you roll away in the last second.

“Hey hey it’s me it’s me” you try to explain but the dragon doesn’t seem to care as it launches another attack your way. This time he manages to get in a scratch but even then you keep your sword tucked away, still trying to talk some sense into the dragon.

“Hey hey look,” you say as you take the sword out of its holder and slide it over to where he stands.

At first you can’t see his reaction, face obscured by the cloud of smoke coming from his nose but when you do you see his head tilted just the same as when you first met him in this cave.

“See? I won’t hurt you” you say with a soft smile on your face even going as far as raising your hands in the air.

The dragon's gaze drops from your face down to the ground and when you follow his eyes you see your own blood dripping down.

“Oh” you say gaze glued back to the dragon again “just a minor scratch dont worry about it” minor was an understatement but despite your blury eyes and the nasoua bubbling up in your gut you make your way over to him.

“You’re hurt too” you say as if the dragon could understand you “let me check on it?”

The dragon doesn’t respond but doesn’t move away either as you steadily approach.

You continue to keep your hands up in the air, soft smile still glued to your face doing your best to be as reassuring as possible as you approach him on shaky legs.

When you go to take a closer look, you see the many scales on his underbelly ripped away and a foreign object jammed into it.

“What happened?” You say to yourself before looking up at the dragon again. “I’m going to try to take it out alright? You say pointing to the wound in hopes of making yourself understood.

Once again the dragon doesn’t respond but doesn’t move away either when you approach.

“Good boy” you whisper to yourself and for the first time since you’ve been visiting this dragon you get a proper look at the many scale that decorate his skin. Although most of them are soaked in blood you can see the gold color that coats them and hues of orange and red scattered about on them. You careful reach a hand out ,neck uncomfortably cranking up to meet the dragons gaze, so far he hasn’t moved away yet and you take it as a positive sign as you grab ahold of the sword and slowly but surely start pulling it out of his underbelly.

The dragon roars not out of fear but out of pain as you continue to pull the sword out of him.

“I know I know just give me a second” you say under a shaky breath using all your strength to finally pull it out of him

Immediately he slumps down, wings protectively covering his lower half as he lets out a sound that is something like a mix of pain and relief. Behind him you see the skeletal remains of what must’ve been a person tempting fate and with the dragons blood on your hands, it’s hard to feel bad for the dead man.

You carefully sit down too and make quick work of ripping a piece of your shirt to use as gauze all while the dragon continues to watch you.

Once you’re all cleaned and wrapped up you smile up at him, and once again he just stares at you without giving much of a response.

“We’re okay”

The two of you continue to be okay days weeks and months after that event.

You even seem to grow closer, and at some point the dragon allows you to touch him. Sure it may be to only attended to minor injuries but progress is still progress.

However it all takes a turn when you go to visit him like you usually do, with a basket of apples in hand and a soft smile on your face that quickly drops along with the basket as you take in the sight of the dragon charging towards you.

You don’t even have time to react before the dragon is just a hair away from your face and you close your eyes out of instinct , as a frightful sound tumbles past your lips.

However the frightened look quickly turns into one of confusion when you notice that the dragon hasn’t attacked you yet and when you open your eyes you don’t see the mean old dragon standing in front of you but instead it’s a man, completely nude and staring at you with the most beautiful pair of cerulean eyes you’ve ever seen in your life.

“Why do you smell like someone else?”

Spitball w/ me?

#I wanted to post this yesterday but my brain and hands WRE exhausted from work 😭#scribbles #alec answers #john price #call of duty #john price x reader #john price x male reader #captain john price #captain john price x male reader #captain john price x reader

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unoislazy · 5 months

Text

BES Characters and Pets

How they would react to you bringing home an animal

Characters:Mizu,Akemi,Taigen and Ringo

A/N: Pretty short but I want to give you guys more variety than just I Am No Coward back to back

(Apparently I can’t spell cause I’ve had to edit this four separate times so I’m sorry if there are any spelling errors)

————————————————————

Mizu

-The moment you walk through that door with an animal in hand, no matter how small or cute the first thing she says is

“Put it back.”

-of course you would’ve already been committed to the little creature at that point so that wasn’t even in the question.

-she would begrudgingly allow you to continue to have it, but she wouldn’t want anything to do with it

-she thinks you give it more attention than you give her, but she never says anything about it

-very slowly she would eventually start to come around, It would take a fair amount of convincing though

-one day something in her just clicks and suddenly she doesn’t mind the animal at all.

-if the animal was a cat the moment to cause this click would definitely be it rubbing up against her for the first time

-you’d catch her talking to the animal occasionally when she thinks she’s alone, almost like she’s having a conversation with it

Akemi

-Akemi would be more a fan of more delicate animals, maybe a bird or a bunny

-she would also feel guilty for having one in the first place so you’d have to explain that the chances of it surviving on its own are low

-that’s literally all it would take to convince her

-don’t expect her to take care of the messy parts though

-she may grow fond of the animal but the moment it makes a mess, that’s your pet not hers

-she can handle dirt and grime but if she doesn’t have to, she’s prefer not to

-you have found her ranting to the animal before about her father which you decided was best if you didn’t interrupt

Taigen

-this man is a dog lover through and through there’s NO way he isn't

-100% thinks cats are all mean

-If you brought back a dog with you he would be secretly ecstatic

-you thought that was your dog? Nope not anymore

-mans best friend for a reason I suppose

-would find training him extremely entertaining and when he’s not training himself, he’s off training the dog

-tried to teach the dog how to fight with a sword once…

-didn’t end well.

-you tried to tell him but Taigen has an issue with listening apparently

Ringo

-all animals

-he loves them all

-you give him any animal he would protect it with his life

-no convincing needed

-that man would find joy in any animal you give him

-I could see him looking after a duckling

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ohnoitstbskyen · 9 months

Note

hey skyen, you mentioned about kuina that she seemed transmasc to you and in my experience i think more people see zoro as a transmasc person, the reason being is his want/need to break gender stereotypes rather than enforce them. through kuina, his story to become the greatest swordman is inherently about breaking gender roles. and personally i think a lot of transmascs see this as their relationship to cis women. (especially in how kuina pushes zoro into the "weak" category with him and parrots sexism without knowing how it affects him) i also think his story is WAY more satisfying from a gender perspective if you see him as transmasc, regardless of if its intended or not. (the truth is that theyre BOTH transmasc, actually, why not?) (idk if you read fanfiction, probably not, but the fanfiction Burning Man on ao3 really goes in depth with transmasc zoro. its also the best fanfiction ive personally read for op)

Yeah, I can absolutely see that.

On related lines, I've also seen an interpretation of the story that Kuina and Zoro are the same person, and that Zoro's flashback depicts a metaphorical series of events rather than literal, where he battles with his assigned identity over and over as a child and can never "beat" her, never overcome or break out from under her.

But when he realizes that his assigned identity is miserable and in pain, and that all that even she wants is to be a boy, he has to go through the trauma of seeing her die, and go out into the world as truly himself. Through that lens his quest to become the greatest swordsman in the world is, in part, a quest to spite every motherfucker on Earth who told his past self that he would never be able to transcend his assigned gender.

So long as you assume that Kuina's father is playing along with it to the point of setting up a grave for his dead daughter who never was, it does explain why he would let Zoro take away the Wado Ichimonji, an incredibly important and valuable family heirloom, and treat Zoro so much like a direct son.

The Three Sword Style already represents Zoro carrying Kuina's spirit and memory with him always - his two-sword style in the hands, her one sword style in his mouth - and in this reading the style would be carrying the memory and pain of his childhood with him, and letting it empower him to become greater than anyone without his experiences could ever be.

It's one of the nice things about One Piece, I think, that it is open to these kinds of interpretations. Luffy being aro/ace is basically canon, which I appreciate a lot, and nobody can tell me Nami and Vivi didn't have a mutual crush going during Alabasta, and there is no understanding of Ace I will accept where he wasn't the most bi/pan wandering disaster the Grand Line had ever seen since Roger.

I do hope the actual explicit text of the manga will catch up to that someday... I was really happy to finally see some actual transmasc rep with Yamato, and a bit more playfulness with gender in general in characters like Izou and Kikunojo in the Wano Country arc, and honestly canonically transmasc Zoro or Crocodile would be enriching to both of those characters, I think.

#tb answers #one piece #roronoa zoro #one piece yamato

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skribblezcorner · 4 months

Text

Zosan Brainrot. haha ahaha.

tysm to @11yogurts for finally motivating me to share my debilitating zosan hyperfixation online ily

My ABSOLUTE FAVORITE Sanji hc is that post-timeskip he has WAYY too many things that hes picked up from momoiro and the crew is absolutely fine w/it, but it drives Zoro BONKERSSSS because he has a big fat gay crush on Sanji.

Example 1 : Heels

Got this idea from a a fic i read about 2 years ago, can't remember the name for the LIFE OF ME or what it was about, but not it has me imagining a post-ts Sanji coming back from momoiro wearing oxfords with a 4-INCH HEEL, both for style and combat reasons. Zoro just assumes Sanji's grown taller (which he is kinda pissed about) and goes on about his life. I imagine the realization goes somewhat like this:

~~~~~~~

Zoro would pause to say something about how this is the second time this week they've gotten ambushed on the Sunny, but he's too busy slicing the barrel off another marine's shotgun. He renders another officer unconscious with the butt of his sword, then sheaths it after looking around to make sure no stragglers try to sneak up on him.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spots Sanji finishing off the group attacking him in a whirlwind of fire and shouted expletives - and then he sees it.

When Sanji arcs back into a handstand, the ankles of his tailored slacks ride up to his calves and What is the fuck is on his feet.

The shoes look like regular oxfords, laced black leather with a brown bottom - and a large, square heel at the back. Oh, they're heels, Zoro belatedly realizes.

Zoro stares, his face flushed and mouth probably wide open, as he watches the cook's blocky loafers take out a man's nose. Zoro should absolutely not find that as attractive as it is.

Sanji pivots on one of his hands, bringing both his legs in towards his torso before shooting up and over the gaggle of marines still chasing after him. He twists through the air, and Zoro can see the cook's muscled thighs contracting through his dress pants as he brings those fucking shoes down on another officer's head. The heels get spattered with blood as he delivers a sweeping kick to the rest of the men still standing, sending them sprawling across the deck.

Zoro is still frozen as the cook rights himself and dusts off his suit, patting down his pockets for a cigarette and lighter. The clacking of his heels against Sunny's deck as he heads to the galley match the rapid pounding of blood in Zoro's ears, and Sanji finally, finally catches his gaze from where he's heading to the galley.

He looks- breathtaking, evidence of the fight everywhere on him. Hair mussed, shirt missing two buttons, his exposed chest covered in a light sheen of sweat as he turns to face Zoro. his visible eye narrows and his mouth curls up into a smirk, taking in the dusting of red on Zoro's cheeks.

Before Zoro can say anything, Sanji's gaze shifts behind him and widens, and Zoro suddenly feels a sharp pain on the back of his head.

"OH, YOU FUCKER!" and Sanji's heels (the cook wears heels Zoro's going to fucking die) pattering over are the last things he hears before he blacks out. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ahaha zoro being stupid and not paying attention to his surroundings because he's so distracted by Sanji in battle is CANON BECAUSE I SAY SO. i love them so much aksdjgfhadjkslhflkjsad

sorry for any spelling mistakes in this little ficlet but OHMYGOD i needed to get this out into the world and its currently 3am and i wrote this in like an hour. also First ever post???? yay me!!!!!! . also should i make more of these?? cause i definitely have more ideas. lmk (≧◡≦)

#one piece hcs #zosan #roronoa zoro #vinsmoke sanji #one piece zosan #zosan canon!!#one piece #black leg sanji #gay gay homosexual gay #feeding the sanji wearing heels agenda #simp zoro canon #IM GOING INSANE.

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fieldofdaisiies · 8 months

Text

I've Got You

ship: Sihtric Kjartansson x female!Reader type: angst/fluff word count: 2k warnings: talks of violence and wounds summary: I've become obsessed with TLK again and maybe also with Sihtric; so here a little fic about you and Sihtric riding together on a horse back after he saved you

"Come on," Sihtric says to you, pointing at the large, dark horse beside him. It looks majestic and at the same time absolutely terrifying — you have never been on a horse in your whole life and–

"Come on, we need to leave. Now." There is urgency in his uttering, yet his gaze remains empathetic.

The convent where you have spent your entire life in was suddenly attacked. They mercilessly took down the guards, hurt you and your sisters, and as you tried to flee, one of the brutes followed after you. Despite your attempts to escape, his blade managed to slice into your calf, leaving a deep gash there. Unbeknownst to you, help has arrived outside, slaying the attackers.

And out of nowhere, a man appeared in the corridor you tried to escape him, almost like a heroic figure emerging from the turmoil of the battle. With skill that was beyond you, he killed the attacker with his sword, ending his life right before your eyes.

With remarkable ease, the man who revealed himself as Sihtric then swept you up in his strong arms, carrying you over his shoulder outside into safety.

Once joined by other men, and also some of your covent sisters he placed you on the ground next to a large horse and this is where you find yourself now, staring at him with eyes and your mouth wide open.

Your heart is beating so incredibly fast, hammering against your ribcage. There is so much pain in your system, so much panic, and fear, your whole body is shaking with the terror of what just happened.

You suck in a sharp breath, then another, your head feeling dizzy as tears start to cloud your vision.

"I…I can't…ride," you stammer, a whirlwind of emotions brewing in your mind. Your feel how your fingers tremble, how wobbly your knees are. The ground beneath you is covered in frost, crunching when you reposition your feet.

Something like sympathy passes over Sihtric's face and he reaches out and gently grabs your arm, his touch surprisingly tender. "Then we are riding together."

The words struck you immediately — riding with him, with him on the back of the horse!

You are a good Christian woman, you have never been so close to a man. It scares you, but the emotions are not stronger than the panic inside of you, and the urge to leave this place. You need to get away, fast. You know what you witnessed will haunt you forever, but staying here for longer won't make it any better. You need to get away from here.

One after the other your sisters are lifted onto horses as well, always riding with one of Sihtric's companions. A few of them are guided towards a very small carriage, your gaze following them until they disappear.

A gentle breeze starts to blow, gradually cooling the air around you and you find yourself shivering, both out of fear and the cold.

"Ride with me?" you hear the man next to you ask, almost like he is waiting for your consent. And God in heaven above, he truly is.

"Yes…" you say in a voice barely above a whisper, seeing tendrils of breath in front of your face.

Without hesitation and with strength that is beyond you, he lifts you off the ground, gently, and onto the back of the majestic, dark horse, onto the fur placed their. Your legs swiftly wrap around its strong body as you clutch the pommel tightly, a feeling of fear gnawing at your gut.

You're so high up, perched on this powerful creature. Your rob shifts upwards, revealing the pale skin of your legs and another shudder courses through you. If he notices, he does not let show, his gaze trained only on the horse, his jaw tense.

Sihtric wastes no time in mounting the horse behind you, causing your breath to catch in your throat. Uncertain of how to react, you remain frozen as he edges closer, gently pushing his chest, nothing but solid muscles beneath his leather armour, against your back. You feel how your hips are enclosed by his strong thighs, capturing you.

A shiver runs through you as you make contact with him – it's a sensation unlike anything you've ever experienced before.

A breath whooshes out of you when you urge yourself to relax your body. You can't escape the closeness to him up here, so you might as well give into it before you make your both fall off the horse.

"Let's go!" one man commands. He looks like the leader of the group, but you don't know for sure. Sihtric behind you shouts his answer. His warm breath tickles your neck, causing the hairs on your body to stand on end.

Your hands tremble as he wraps one arm around your waist for support and takes the reins with the other hand. Why did you let him touch you so intimately? What's come over you? This is not like you.

The wind grows stronger, now flakes of snow starting to fall, getting caught in your hair. It is growing colder, and the horse finally starts to move. It is bumpy, and despite the strong arm around you, you fear you might fall.

You shift slightly, trying to find a more secure position, but this elicits an unexpected groan from the man behind you.

"Don't do that," he grumbles behind you before urging the horse to move a little faster, albeit at a slower pace than the others.

You are left confused, your body all of a sudden tense again and you don't move at all. Soon, you fall in line with others, their horses moving gracefully in sync with yours, all trotting at the same pace. The rhythmic beat of hooves hitting the ground creates a melody around you that slowly soothes the panic inside of you. Yet, your breathing is shaky and ragged, suddenly the memories of what you saw flooding your mind again — you see it all, the blood, the pain, the violence.

Sucking in a sharp breath, your eyes close and you try to level your breathing. Small snow flakes land on your face and get caught in your hair. You blow out a long breath, heart beating so unsteadily in your chest. Biting down on your lower lip, you try to direct your thoughts to more positive things, thinking about happy times in the covent.

Sihtric watches you from behind, your figure so fragile in his strong arms. It almost feels like you could break any second, and he knows that you were close to doing so back at the convent.

His mission is to protect you now, forever, it seems like it is his destiny. There is something about you, something that brings out an enormous sense of protectiveness. He has seen the flame of determination vanish when you first made eye-contact in that corridor.

Sihtric looks at you for a moment longer, revelling in the warmth and the feel of your body against his.

You, other than he himself, even smell nice, like chamomile and parchment. From time to time he can feel you shudder, the little clothing, the robe you are wearing, not shielding you from the cold of the winter. He wishes he would have given you his coat earlier, but right now it is too late and he can only provide you warmth with his body.

Once you arrive and once the wound on your calf is looked over and taken care of, he will see that you are provided with a coat and fur to keep you warm.

Another shudder courses through you, your body trembling in his hold.

"I've got you," he assures you, his voice suddenly so very soft and calm, and you offer a hesitant nod.

The horse carries you through the landscape at a not too fast pace, allowing you to take in the surroundings — snow covered landscape, looming mountains, and weathered trees. You have never been out here.

"You are safe now." You feel his hand move from your waist to your hip, no longer gripping you so tightly.

"And you don't ever need to fear again." It is another young man whose voice you suddenly hear and your head whips to the side. He is wearing a soft smile, one of your sister's is seated behind him on the horse, both her arms wrapped around his torso. "None of you needs to fear, you are safe now."

You find yourself nodding at him, his kindness warming your chest a little bit.

"Osferth," he whispers and you tell him your own name in a silent voice. "Y/N."

With the tilt of his head, and an empathetic smile on his lips, he urges his horse to move faster, past you. Your eyes stay on your covent sister and the man for a moment longer, until you look back at the head of the horse you sit atop.

The landscape starts to darken in the distance and you find yourself wondering if you will stop soon, and build up so tents where you can sleep in. But then you actually don't know if they even have tents with them. You don't know where they normally sleep. But the one thing you know is that you will never sleep in your bed ever again. And that unsettles you — you will never have the comfort of your once safe space again. It will never be the same again, you will never have your old life again.

It is almost like he can feel his distress, leaning in the slightest bit closer.

"Would you like to go faster as well?" Sihtric inquires, his grip on your hip tightening slightly.

You nod and he signals the horse to pick up the pace, and it obeys, galloping across the snow-covered land with newfound speed.

In order to keep you safe, he pulls you even closer, and the sensation is exhilarating. There is no space between your bodies, and for a moment you think you can feel his heart beat through his skin and leathery armour.

You've always been afraid of riding, but right now, you're completely lost in the moment—galloping across the land, drawing closer to the edge of the forest. You feel free, alive, all of a sudden as the cool wind whips across your face, through your hair and feels your lungs.

And then—

Frustration surges through you as you abruptly come to a halt.

Everyone has stopped, slowly climbing of their horses. It almost seems like this all works without any conversation passing between them.

Without hesitation, Sihtric shifts behind you, letting go off your waist and also dismounts his horse.

You watch, eyes wide open and wary, how people start to hurdle around, gathering and collecting things. Everyone is tasked with something, many collecting firewood, some already starting to build up tents. You don't even know where to look, there is so much happening.

"Y/N?"

Slowly you turn your head to the sound. Your name from his lips is like the most beautiful song you've ever heard, it brushes your skin, your terribly cold and pebbled skin, like a feather.

Sihtric extends his hand for you to follow suit. "Let me help you dismount the horse."

He watches you closely as you reach for his hand, trembling, cold fingers curling around his.

You don't know how to dismount the horse, still wearing the long robes. You hesitantly, and with great difficulty pull your leg over the back of the horse, and suddenly—

You lose your balance and start to slide and eventually fall, but before you can hit the ground, he swiftly wraps his arm around your waist, catching you, clasping you tightly to his body. "I got you," he once again says, carefully placing you on the ground, allowing you to regain your footing. You take a deep breath and look up at him, offering a mumbled thank you. Your eyes lock.

"Always," he replies with a sincere look in his eyes, and a smile tugs at your lips. You want him to see how grateful you are what he is doing for you, but you can't find the right words.

"I will see that someone looks over your wound, then we will find you warm clothing and a place you can sleep tonight." He steps away, extends his arm to show you the way to…

#sihtric kjartansson #sihtric #sihtric x you #sihtric x reader #the last kingdom #the last kingdom sihtric #tlk #tlk fanfic

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fairyvearths · 1 year

Text

3 times you try (and fail) to kiss luffy and the 1 time he kisses you

FANDOM: one piece WORD COUNT: 5, 300+ PAIRING: monkey d. luffy x reader WARNINGS: none, for the most part. a hint of jealousy, but it’s very small.

NOTE: hello @hawkix, i am your secret santa for the @onepiece-blorboexchange. i hope this piece is to your liking. merry christmas, and happy holidays 🎄🎁 also cross-posted on archive

one

“You’re best friends with Luffy, right?”

Zoro is sleeping—or at least, trying to. With how rambunctious the crew is right now, and the way the ship rocks on the waves, it’s pretty easy to assume that the man is still awake. That, and, you had seen his brows flinch slightly when your shadow fell over his face.

But still, he pretends.

Fine.

You kick him.

Zoro catches your ankle before you make contact with his leg. “Oi,” he snaps.

You flail for balance, a squeal sticking in your throat as your centre of gravity tilts.

Zoro pulls you as you fall and you crash on your side.

“Ow,” you say, mostly for show, because your arm had cushioned your landing and you’ve been through much worse than this. Zoro knows it too.

“Quit being a baby,” he grouses, shifting himself up higher on the railing now that he’s officially awoken from his nap. “The Hell were you thinking, trying to kick me?”

You roll onto your back. “You were ignoring me.”

“I was trying to sleep.”

“But you weren’t, yet.”

“Yeah—yet. I was getting there.”

“So you just ignored me?” You bat your arm in his general direction. “What if it was an emergency?”

“It wasn’t.”

“You don’t care about me.”

“The Hell?”

You giggle because he didn’t say, ‘Yeah, of course I don’t’ and that’s a win if you’ve ever encountered one. “You don’t,” you sigh, carpeting the floor with your faux misery. “I could die and you woul—”

“Shut up.” Zoro actually jabs you in the arm with the hilt of one of his swords.

“Hey!”

“You didn’t hit your head when you fell, right?”

You scoff, mirthful shock coating your words, “Are you calling me stupid?”

“No—I mean, I made sure you didn’t hit your head when you fell.”

It takes a while for his words to click in your brain, and when it does—Oh. You turn your head to look at him, cheek pressing into the hardwood floors. “Why can’t you just say you care about me like someone who isn’t emotionally constipated?”

Zoro scowls, crossing his arms across his chest and looking away like he’s a four-year-old child throwing a tantrum. “Is this what you woke me up for?” he grumbles.

You want to keep ribbing him, but you understand that Zoro is being defensive, so you take his cue and reroute the conversation. “No, actually—I wanted to ask you a favour.”

He turns back, scepticism raising his brows. “About Luffy?”

You open your mouth to ask how he knows, but you realise you had asked about your captain when you approached Zoro. “So you did ignore me,” you gasp, slightly maybe a lot offended.

“Yeah, of course I did—I was trying to sleep!” he shoots back.

It’s your turn to cross your arms over your chest and cast your gaze to the sky. “I can’t believe you.”

Zoro clicks his tongue before tapping your leg lightly with his foot. “What’d you need help with?”

“Nah,” you push out with a breath, “I don’t want your help anymore.”

“Fine,” Zoro says, yawning. “Go somewhere else—I’m trying to sleep.”

You slap his knee. “Oi.”

“What do you need, then?”

“I wanna kiss Luffy.”

A beat. Then, “And you’re telling me, because?”

“Because, Zoro,” you say, turning to face him again, “last time I tried, you called his attention to a Sea King and ran off with him.”

Zoro snorts. “So, go kiss him now.” He jerks his chin towards the deck where he, Usopp and Chopper are gathered. “He’s not busy.”

“It’s not that simple,” you intone, stretching out your words. “I can’t just do it out of nowhere, it has to be proper and—”

“Oh, kill me now,” Zoro whispers in exasperation. He deflects another one of your attacks, knocking your hand out of its trajectory. “If you wanted romantic, you should’ve gone to the Cook.”

“But he’s your best friend,” you reiterate. “You know him better than anyone here.”

Zoro sighs, long-sufferingly. “Have you tried talking to him?” he asks, tired.

“No?” Bewilderment laces your tone, falling in a heavy heap on the ground. “I’m not telling Luffy I want to kiss him.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s weird; I can’t just tell him, I just gotta do it.”

“Then do it—He’s right there.” Once again, he gestures towards your captain, as if you’re not already hyperaware of his presence.

“Not like that,” you hiss.

“Oh, my God,” Zoro grumbles. “Stop being difficult.”

“I’m not! I just need to you to help me—”

“I’m trying! You keep dismissing my solutions. It’s so easy, here, look—Luffy!”

Your heart jumps into your throat as Zoro hollers, and you leap forward to cover his mouth. You misjudge the distance, punching him in the cheek instead.

“What the fuck?” Zoro rears his head back, slapping your hand away.

“Shit, I’m so sorry—” You retract your offending limb, covering your mouth in shock. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, didn’t hurt,” he says, and you can tell he’s not just saying it to make you feel better. The man’s been through so much worse, and you both know it. “Just, what the fuck, though?”

“I didn’t mean to,” you lament. “I just—You yelled, and I was trying to stop you, but I—”

“What’s up?”

You didn’t scream.

You didn’t.

You just, got startled. Because it was Luffy. And he came out of nowhere. And if Zoro or Luffy said you screamed… well.

They don’t know what they’re talking about.

You whip around, heart hammering in your throat because you were just talking about kissing Luffy, and now the man is here, squatting in front of you, and you don’t know how much he may have overheard. “Nothing!” Your voice comes out high and nervous.

“Fucking—” Zoro sighs, nudging you towards Luffy with his calf because in your scramble to shut Zoro up, you’d landed on his leg. “Can you just ki—”

You’re more successful this time, shouting over the top of his words and slapping a hand to his mouth. “What the Hell is wrong with y—Ow!” You wrench your hand away at a sharp sting on your palm. “Did you just bite me?” At Zoro’s deadpan stare, you furrow your brows. “What kinda feral—?”

Behind you, Luffy laughs; so loud and carefree that your heart stutters in your chest.

You think you might pass out, but you turn to look at your captain because his joy is always a sight to behold.

“Wow,” Zoro muses aloud, “you are down ba—”

You jerk your elbow into Zoro’s stomach, cutting off his words. “Shut up!” you hiss.

“What were you guys talking about?” Luffy asks again when he settles down.

“Nothing,” you repeat, voice calmer.

Zoro rolls his eyes. “Really?”

“Except for the fact that Zoro is being a butthead,” you say pointedly.

“Butthead?” the butthead echoes.

“Ah.” Luffy nods sagely. “That sounds like Zoro.”

“Oi!”

You giggle, watching as Zoro grabs a sword and jolts the hilt towards Luffy’s face.

Luffy grabs the hilt to deflect it, but when Zoro pulls his weapon back, Luffy careens forward.

“Ah!” The shout is more from surprise than anything, Luffy’s knee colliding with your shin as he practically falls on you.

“Shit,” Zoro breathes.

“Oh.” Luffy scrambles himself off your leg. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you dismiss his concern. “That actually didn’t hurt, I’m fine.” You’re hefting yourself up with your elbows, expecting Luffy to move out of your way.

But he doesn’t.

And now you’ve almost pushed yourself up against his chest.

And he’s looking at you so earnestly your cheeks are flushing. “Are you sure you’re okay?” he presses.

You nod, throat thick. Body warm. Your eyes dart down to his lips. The urge to kiss him rises tenfold. Maybe you could just do it. No fancy situation, no set up. Just… this. With him hovering over you because it just happened that way. Staring at you with concern swimming in his pupils.

“So, can I go now?” Zoro pipes up from behind you.

You startle, bumping a shoulder into Luffy’s chin.

Luffy recoils, effectively severing the moment.

“I am so sorry!” you gasp, reaching out to cradle his head. “Oh God, are you okay?”

Luffy nods in your hands, chuckling lightly. “’M fine.”

“Zoro, you can’t just do that!” you hiss at him.

“I have been here the whole time,” he deadpans. “But it seems I’ve done my job, so I’m gonna g—”

Luffy tilts his head. “What job?”

“Nothing!” you yell before Zoro can answer, letting go of Luffy like you’ve been burnt. “Nothing.” You slide out from between the two of them and clamber to your feet. “You take your nap,” you say to Zoro, “and you can go back to—” You signal towards Usopp and Chopper, “playing, I don’t know.” You smile at Luffy even though you don’t really feel it. “I’ll go.” You depart before the two of them can say anything to you.

“You were too much of a butthead,” Luffy says in a low enough voice that you know he’s not talking to you.

There’s the sound of something hard hitting something fleshy.

“How’s this my fault?” Zoro retaliates.

You duck into your room before you can hear if their banter escalates to sparring.

two

There’s a stabbing pain in your side, but you ignore it in favour of running across the rubble—or at least, try to. The sharp ache is all encompassing, and you’re pretty sure you’re bleeding out as well.

But right now, it’s of no matter.

What is of matter, though, is the fact that Luffy is on the other side of this debris, and you need to get to him.

You crest the peak and start down the slope towards the ground, towards your captain wobbling on his feet, bruised and ruffled. “Luffy!”

He turns when you call out to him, face lighting up when he catches sight of you.

You’re practically tripping over your own feet to make it over to him, teeth gritting at the jabs that lance through your ribs.

He crashes into your body when you enter his personal space, your legs faltering under the unanticipated weight.

You catch yourself on your knees, holding in the gasp that wants to escape because him jarring into you didn’t help. You wrap your arms beneath his shoulders to keep him up. “Hey,” you breathe out, chest releasing some of the air that had been trapped in there at the thought of your captain in peril. “You okay?” You’re frantically pawing at his face, thumbs swiping at the blood and cuts.

Luffy nods, a soft smile pulling at his lips. “’M good,” he manages to answer around you pulling on his skin. “Are you?”

“Yeah.” Satisfied with your inspection—his wounds are shallow and will heal up at a rate that still shocks you—relief pools into your stomach. “We’re good, we won.”

He furrows his brows, eyes scanning your face before they rest down your body. “You’re hurt,” he states.

“It’s fine.” You shake your head, hiding a wince because, yeah, it does hurt, but you don’t want him to fuss over you when he looks like this. “I’ll be fine.”

“You’re bleeding,” he reiterates, cupping a hand over your wound.

“Ah!” You shrink away from his touch, unbalancing both you and him because he had been essentially leaning on you for support.

Luffy circles his arm around you, righting you before you topple backwards, taking him down too. “You’re hurt,” he repeats, voice soft.

You stare at him, face so close to yours that you can see his eyelashes. You’re so pressed up against him that you feel him breathing on your chest, every rise and fall in tandem with yours.

His heart is beating quickly—or maybe it’s yours.

It probably is yours.

He’s so close to you, and your brain feels like mush; lightheaded and echoey. Your ears thunder with the sound of your own heart. Your breaths catch in your chest.

“We should get you to Chopper,” he murmurs. He looks behind you, over the debris, where the rest of the crew should be.

A part of your brain knows it’s urgent, but the other part can’t stop staring at his lips as he speaks. “Luffy,” you utter.

He snaps his focus back to you, gaze darting between your eyes. “What?”

You shift your weight onto his, and he takes it easily, tightening his arm around you. You can feel your breath blow back on your face with how hard you’re breathing onto Luffy’s. Your head fills more and more with cotton as you careen towards his lips.

You black out before you make it.

three

After the fiasco of employing Zoro’s assistance, you decide that he actually isn’t much help at all. So the next best thing is to go to Robin. Because she’s clever, and smart.

You sit her down in the quiet of the aquarium and tell her about your dilemma, and about Zoro’s ridiculous suggestion of ‘just asking Luffy,’ and how nothing you’ve tried has worked.

She laughs at the end of your recollection, a soft thing that she hides in her palm before standing up. “Come with me,” she says.

You follow her, recognising the walk to the library as you’re halfway there.

She settles you down at the table before disappearing between some shelves, to, presumably, find a book. When she returns, a light in her eye, you know she’s found something good. “It’s Christmas soon,” she says as though it’s a suggestion.

“Okay?” you ask, bemused.

She chuckles softly, rifling through the pages to find the spread she wants and places it on the desk, tilting it so it’s upright for you to read. “Mistletoe.”

You look down at the page, a drawing of said plant on display. “Uh-huh.”

“It’s tradition,” she begins, “for people to kiss when they’re caught under a mistletoe together.”

You glance up at her. “Oh. So, we just have to get some mistletoe,” you say. The plan sounds easy enough.

But.

“Where, exactly, are we gonna get some mistletoe?”

“Next time we stop by an island, I suppose,” she muses quietly. “It’s a Christmas tradition,” she elaborates, “so at this time of year, people will be selling these everywhere.”

“Great—thank you.” You already feel much better about her advice than you did with Zoro’s. You lift the page between your fingers, pulling the paper.

Arms sprout from the table, clutching at your wrist.

“What,” Robin says, a harsh lilt to her tone, “are you doing?”

“I just need to know what it looks like.”

“You’ve seen what it looks like,” she continues in the same voice.

“Yeah, but I’m not gonna remember it once we get to an island.”

“So, you decide to vandalise my book?”

“I’m not vandali—Ow, ow!” You let go of the page as she tightens her hold around you. “Okay, I made a mistake,” you cry.

The arms disappear. “I’ll buy it for you,” she resumes the conversation like nothing happened. “You can find some place to put it afterwards.”

You feel like you got whiplashed. “Okay,” you whisper, confused. “Thank you?”

It’s another three days before the ship docks at a small island, and Robin comes back with two sprigs of mistletoe. She hands one to you, keeping the other ‘just in case.’ You don’t really know what that means, but at this point, you know well enough to just leave her and her property alone.

“Where’s a good place to put this?” you ask, dangling the twig between your fingers.

“Where would Luffy spend most of his time?”

You sigh.

You burst into the kitchen, having checked through the windows to make sure it was devoid of your captain first.

Sanji looks up at your sudden entrance, scraping carrots into a bowl. “Dinner’s almost ready,” he informs you absently. He returns to cutting the vegetables. “Probably start cooking in ten minutes.”

“That’s not why I’m here.”

That piques his interest, the blond looking up again. “What’s up?” he asks, attention now more evenly split between the food prep and you.

“I…” You glance out the windows, as though talking about Luffy would summon him. “Need your help with something.”

“Mine?”

“Yeah.” You approach the counter where he’s working, sitting on a stool opposite him. “I need to put this,” you lift the sprig higher so he can see, “somewhere in here.”

Sanji stares at the plant. “Mistletoe?”

“Yes, see.” You tell him about Robin’s ingenious plan to help you kiss Luffy. And how Sanji knows the kitchen better than anyone, and knows where Luffy lingers the most.

Sanji lets out a sharp breath of amusement through his nose. “Okay.”

“Great! Just—not now. Christmas is in five days, so—”

“I got it,” Sanji says. “Keep it safe ‘til then.”

“Exactly, thank you!”

The following week is busy; the crew gathering to decorate the Sunny, and making quick stops onshore to find gifts for one another. Between draping garland and wrapping presents, you find yourself migrating to the kitchen a lot.

It’s not that you don’t trust Sanji.

But.

This is really important to you, and you don’t know if he’ll prioritise it the same. You make sure the mistletoe is still alive and fresh. Hidden somewhere out of sight and not easily disposed of if someone else were to help out in the kitchen. Most days, you volunteer yourself to assist, just so you know another crew member won’t find it, and then no embarrassing explanation would have to ensue.

It’s easier that way.

“Good morning,” Sanji greets, already anticipating your arrival with a cup of tea.

“Hey.” You take a sip before putting the beverage down. “Is—”

“Yep,” he says, already taking out the tin from the cupboard and sliding it across the countertop to you. “Same place as it was last night, when you checked. And the time before that, and before that too. And—”

“Alright,” you snap, no heat in your tone. “I’m just…” You shrug, at a loss for why you feel so obsessive over a piece of tree.

“Nervous?”

You sigh. “Yeah.”

Sanji pushes the tea over to your hands, and you smile at him. “How about, no more looking at it today.”

You frown. “I don’t think that’s gonna help.”

“Did looking at it help?”

You close the lid and pass it back to him. “No,” you admit quietly.

“I don’t think you’re stressed about the mistletoe disappearing,” Sanji says, voice incredibly soft as he addresses you.

You hum, tapping your fingers on the sides of the cup. “I just… want it to work.” Because if it doesn’t…

If it doesn’t…

That’s not something you want to think about.

“It will.” And he says it with so much certainty that for a second, you believe it too.

You don’t check up on the mistletoe for the rest of the day, but you do still help out in the kitchen.

You’re staring at the counter, where you know the mistletoe is. You know it’s there. You saw it this morning. Sanji let you put it back in there before closing the cupboard and declaring that place off-limits to you. And no one else had come in, other than to eat, and that was over here by the dining tables, not over there.

There’s still a gnawing feeling in your stomach, but you haven’t seen it. So, what if? What if someone came through, looking for something else, and in their search, saw it and took it?

“Are you okay?”

You blink back to the present, snippets of conversation tuning back into focus like a radio. Right. Dinner with the crew. Everyone’s here, eating and having fun.

Sanji is peering at you from across the table, waiting for your answer.

“Yeah,” you say. “Just—distracted.” You look back down to your plate, surprised to find that nothing’s been taken from it.

“Do you want to check it?”

You purse your lips in thought. It would help.

But.

“No.” You shake your head. “I’ve already gone most of the day, right?” you say. “No point caving now.”

“If you’re sure,” Sanji relents. At your nod, he sighs. “Can you just eat something?”

You stick your spoon into the rice.

A chicken drumstick is placed on your plate, and when you follow the hand attached to it, you realise it belongs to Luffy, sitting on the far end of the table.

“You look sad,” he calls across, retracting his arm.

“I’m fine,” you dismiss his concern, turning back to your food. “Thanks.”

The rest of the crew watches, astounded at their captain’s generosity, and your lack of response.

When Christmas finally arrives, you’re not sure how you feel. Yes, it’s Christmas, so you’re excited. But that means putting up the mistletoe and finally bringing your plan to fruition. And that part, you’re more reluctant about.

You’re the first one in the kitchen aside from Sanji, and he looks up, smiling at you.

“Door,” he says.

You turn, watching it close. “What?”

“The mistletoe,” he reiterates. “Put it up last night.”

“Oh!” With the new information, you tilt your head back. It sways gently from the door’s motions. “That’s the best place for it?”

“Luffy comes and goes upwards of twenty times a day.” Sanji sounds sure of himself. “If there’s any place that he frequents a lot, it’s that door.”

“Thanks, Sanji,” you say, beelining for the tea he’s left for you on the counter.

Sanji starts to crack eggs into a mixing bowl, and you stare at your drink. “How are you feeling?”

You shrug. “Still nervous, but… not much else I can do about it.”

“Just.” He takes a whisk from the drawer. “Don’t think about it too much.”

Scoffing, you take a sip of your tea. “I really don’t think there’s anything else for me to think about, right now.”

“What do you want for breakfast?” he asks.

“Whatever you’re making,” you say absently, “I don’t mind.” You’re two-thirds of the way through your drink when you speak again. “What if it doesn’t go right?”

“How?”

“Like, what if…?” You swallow something thick. “What if he doesn’t want to kiss me? Then I’ve just—”

Luffy crashes through the door, startling you out of your conversation with Sanji. He scans the kitchen, face lighting up when he makes eye contact with you, bounding over. “What are you doing in here?” he asks, plopping himself down in the chair you’re standing next to.

“Nothing,” you deflect, because you don’t really want to tell him that you were lamenting to Sanji about whether he’d kiss you or not. But your answer is suspicious too, so you retract your earlier statement with what you hope is a carefree shrug.

(It’s not.)

“I was helping out with food and stuff.” You turn to the eggs already beaten laid out in front of Sanji. Shit.

Luffy hums, a slight dejection to the note. “Come outside,” he says instead.

You pause, trying to think of an excuse. “But we gotta make breakfast, then there’s the big Christmas dinn—”

“But I miss you,” he says, frowning.

Oh.

“We donʼt hang out much, anymore.”

You blink, gulping your dangerously loud heart back into your chest. It’s suddenly warm in the kitchen even though the ovens and stoves are off. “Okay,” you croak.

Luffy beams at you, and your breath sweeps away. He grabs your hand to lead you out, and your palm feels clammy in his.

As you’re leaving, Sanji clears his throat.

Luffy stops, turning around. “What?” he asks.

You turn too, a murderous glare pointed at the blond. Shut the fuck up, you will towards him.

Sanji flickers his gaze over your heads.

“What?” Luffy repeats.

“Nothing,” you say quickly, trying to step further onto the deck to steer him out of the kitchen.

Luffy purses his lips, standing his ground. He’s always been stronger than you, so your attempts to move him are rendered futile because he’s not cooperating. “No, I wanna know,” he presses. There’s a pout to his lips, and you can’t help but think he looks cute like this.

“It’s just.” You swallow thickly, tilting your head up to look at the top of the door frame.

Luffy follows your eyes, zeroing in on the lone green tendril hanging off the door. “Ah,” he says.

You watch him, trepidation drying your tongue.

“Why’d Sanji put food in such a weird place?”

“What?”

He shoots his arm towards it, clutching the plant in his hands—leaves and all.

And shoves it in his mouth.

“No!”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Sanji yells, vaulting over the counter. He grabs Luffy by the back of the neck. “Spit it out!”

“Luffy, that was mistletoe,” you say when you’ve gotten over the initial shock. Your hands are hovering over him, wanting to help but not sure how because Sanji is already there, and you’d only be in the way.

“So?” he manages to say around Sanji trying to pull his mouth open.

“Mistletoe is poisonous, you dumbass!” Sanji growls, realising that it’s already been swallowed. “We need to get you to Chopper.”

“But I feel fine,” Luffy protests.

You usher your captain out the door, heartbeat reverberating loudly in your throat. “No, please just—C’mon.” You walk around Luffy when you’ve exited the kitchen, pulling on his hand to lead him to the infirmary. You look at Sanji over Luffy’s shoulder. “You go…” You gesture back inside the kitchen. “I got this.”

“You sure?” Sanji asks.

You nod. “There’s a lot to do for today.” You turn back around, glancing at the rest of the deck. “Chopper!” you call out to him when you see the reindeer with Usopp and Nami.

Chopper darts his head up, looking at you. “Yeah?”

“We need you in here!” you say, pointing your thumb back towards the door of the doctor’s office.

There’s clambering as Chopper disregards his prior activities—unwrapping presents, judging by the colours on the floor—to run over. “What happened?” he asks when he’s closer.

“I ate something,” Luffy says when you open the door. “Sanji said it was poisonous.”

“Mistletoe,” you interject before Chopper can panic too much. You stand to the side, letting them in first.

“Mistletoe?” Chopper repeats.

“It’s… a long story.”

plus one

Chopper releases Luffy from the infirmary after coming to the conclusion that the captain’s run-in with Magellan has heightened his tolerance for poison. So eating a twig of mistletoe will do nothing more to him than upset his stomach, which should pass on its own.

After the little doctor confirms this, you breathe out a sigh of relief.

Luffy turns to you; a smile on his face, a comment on his tongue of how you’d been so worried over nothing, but—

You’re exiting the room, door shutting behind you.

“Hey!” Luffy scrambles off the bed, sidestepping Chopper with a quick ‘Thanks!’ before dashing outside to find you.

You’re faster than anticipated, halfway to the dorms.

But Luffy has abilities that you don’t, so he stretches his arms, hooking his palm around the mast to slingshot himself forward, landing in front of you with a grunt.

“Fuck!” you hiss, jumping backwards, eyes wild with his sudden appearance.

“Sorry!” Luffy is quick to placate you.

“What the Hell?”

“Didn’t mean to scare you—What’s wrong?” He interrupts himself with the question because thatʼs more important right now, and knowing how the two of you like to banter, you’d gloss over how you’re feeling in order to keep teasing him about startling you.

“What?”

“There’s something wrong with you,” Luffy says, because he hasn’t been seeing much of you this past week, and he thought that maybe you just wanted time for yourself to recharge, but you were always in the kitchen with Sanji, instead of hanging out with him like you usually did, and that—

He pushes that aside.

Not important right now.

“There’s nothing wrong with me,” you say quietly.

“Yes, there is.” He’s insistent, knowing that whatever it is is bothering you.

“It’s just… I wanted to—” You sigh. “Nothing,” you dismiss. Then, “It’s stupid.”

“What’s stupid about it?”

You pause, thinking about his question. “I… don’t know.”

“So, it can’t be stupid.”

Your lips quirk up, a brief thing that lights up your face for a millisecond, but Luffy watches, enamoured, because he hasn’t seen it in so long.

“It’s…” You shrug, hesitation dancing across your features. You stare up at him, and he really wishes your eyes weren’t apprehensive.

“Tell me,” he presses gently.

“I want to kiss you.”

“Oh.” He suddenly finds it hard to breathe. “And that makes you upset?” The thought of that squeezes his chest.

“No, no! That doesn’t make me upset, it’s just, I’ve been trying to kiss you for the past month, but things would happen, and I couldn’t do it, and then we came up with this plan with the mistletoe, but you—”

He stretches his arms, wrapping them around your waist to pull you towards him. He leans down and seals his mouth over yours, effectively silencing you.

You gasp in surprise, but the noise is swallowed up, lips chasing after yours. He’s squeezing you to him, waist pulled in so close he can barely think straight.

You wrap your arms around his neck, urging him closer, and Luffy tilts his head, fingers breaching the hem of your shirt to caress your skin. You whimper, so delightfully desperate that Luffy pushes against you, tongue swiping across your bottom lip.

He loves the noise—the neediness lacing your tone that he’s only ever heard you use towards him. Every time he’s been unimaginably close to you, he’d notice the way you’d stare at him, full of want and unadulterated longing that it fogs his brain and tightens his heart down to his stomach.

And how you’d whisper his name, like you did back in the forest, even though you were bleeding out. You were staring at his lips and he thought you were going to kiss him, and he realised that in that moment, he wanted to, too. And he would’ve. If you hadn’t passed out immediately after.

Then after he’d taken you to Chopper and you recovered, you pulled away, secluding yourself in the kitchen with Sanji, pretty much all day.

But, now.

Luffy gets to kiss you. He giggles into your mouth, something light bubbling away in his chest.

You pull away from him, breathing heavily. “Why did you do that?”

“Because you wanted to.”

“But did you want to?”

He thinks about you; his crewmate, nakama, friend. Someone he trusts with his life. Had gone through the biggest ups and downs of his life with you. Then he thinks about kissing you, of how many times he’d wanted to in the past, even before the forest. “Yeah.” And because he can, he pulls you in for another kiss, and he feels you smiling against his lips.

When you part this time, it’s his turn to ask a question. “Why didn’t you just kiss me when you wanted to?”

“Because it’s weird,” you say as if it’s common sense. “You can’t just kiss a friend out of nowhere.”

“But we’re not just friends. We’re… different.”

“Different?” you echo.

“The way I feel about you, and us, it’s different from how I feel about the others. It’s just different with you.”

You swallow and Luffy watches your throat move. “So, you’re saying, I could have kissed you, at any time, in the past few months, and you would have been okay with it?”

Luffy nods. “Yep.”

You purse your lips. “Oh, dear Lord,” you mutter under your breath, “Zoro was right.”

“About what?”

“He said I should’ve just asked you—I thought he was being daft.”

Luffy laughs, and you smile up at him, drinking in the noise. “You’re silly.”

You nod, before double taking as you catch sight of something over his shoulder.

Luffy looks up too.

There’s another sprig of mistletoe dangling from under the mast, metres high above your head.

“Don’t,” you say, before Luffy can react, “eat it this time.”

#op y/n secret santa #one piece x reader #monkey d. luffy x reader #luffy x reader #one piece #one piece x you #one piece.#luffy.#gift.#blorbo exchange.#long post #( i rly hope you like this #i also couldn't gift it to you on ao3 )

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little-diable · 4 months

Text

Ragnarök - Sihtric (smut)

This was written for @whitedarkmoonflower since they won my 15k celebration as a reader! I hope you enjoy this as much as I do, lovie! Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading his, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: After a brutal fight Sihtric can’t find his lover in the crowd of knights he fought with, praying to the gods that the female warrior he loved was still alive.

Warnings: 18+, smut, unprotected piv, a bit of angst, but mainly focused on their relationship

Pairing: Sihtric x fem!warrior!reader (1.8k words)

Picture from Pinterest, credit to the original owner

„There the dim dragon will come in flight, the glittering serpent, from Dark Mountains below. Bearing corpses in its feathers, as it soars over the plain, the Dark-Striker. Now she will sink down.“ - Völuspá: The Prophecy, Ragnarök

The battlefield was muddy, blood stuck to Sihtric’s features, arms, and armour. A sight that would leave any person who had never stood on a battlefield frightened, a sight Sihtric was all too used to. The fight had been brutal, no longer held back by rules, laws even knights would follow in battle, no, it had been awfully primal, watching men choke on their blood, swords and axes piercing hearts, stomachs, and lungs.

But even though Sihtric found a sick sense of satisfaction swapping through him whenever he killed an enemy of theirs, he no longer managed to focus on the victory he should be celebrating with his friends and brothers. All Sihtric could focus on was trying to find her amongst the still-breathing soldiers, praying to his gods that she was alive.

Panic began to swap through him as time kept ticking by, without any sight of her, the one his heart called out to, the one that had claimed Sihtric as hers many moons ago. (Y/n), the one he shared his bed with, the female warrior that had stolen Sihtric’s heart the first time their paths had crossed. He had instantly been drawn to her, admiring the fire burning in her eyes, the teasing words rolling off her tongue all too easily, she had been one of them from the first moment on, a warrior others looked up to.

Sihtric didn’t pick up on the call of his name, not caring about the way Finan tried to hold onto him, all too aware of his friend’s panicked state. The Irishman kept murmuring his name, hands covered in mud and blood, just like Sihtric, grasping his leather armour to stop his friend from carelessly stumbling over corpses of once honourable men and their horses.

“Sihtric, look at me.” Finan eventually managed to catch Sihtric’s frantic gaze, allowing the man to catch his breath as his heart raced in his chest, urged on by the fright clinging to him. “What is with you?”

“(Y/n), I can’t find her, I-” a cry wanted to claw through the once so fearless man, not used to being guided by his emotions like he was in that very moment. “Finan, where is she? She can’t be dead.”

“We’ll find her, I am sure she’s also trying to find you.” Finan let go of his friend, turning towards Osfeth with his head tilted towards his right, wordlessly trying to tell the young monk to follow the two. No further word was spoken as they combed through the endless seeming blanket of corpses, flipping some that had a similar build and hair colour like (y/n), praying every single time that it wasn't her.

“What if she was taken? Gods, Finan, I left her alone, I wasn’t there for her.” Neither Osferth nor Finan was used to hearing Sihtric speak words this uneasy, clearly struggling with the fear he was held hostage by. No reply was spoken as Finan focused on something, or rather someone, unable to bite down his smile as he forced Sihtric to look in the same direction.

With a gasp rumbling through Sihtric, he took off running, pressing his sword into Finan’s hands before he left them behind. His body collided with (y/n)’s, pulling her into his chest with a relieved sigh leaving him. Sihtric’s lips kept kissing her forehead, trying to prove to himself that she was alive, held close to his heart, not leaving him any time soon.

“I thought I’d lost you, don’t ever leave me like that again.” His murmured words left (y/n) chuckling, shifting her weight to meet his lips in a bruising kiss. They could taste one another’s emotions, tongues tangled, hearts beating in unison, finally able to breathe through their fear, their pain.

“I am sorry, I don’t know how I got lost in the crowd. I’m alright, I promise.” Her eyes flickered to Finan’s and Osferth’s approaching frames, shooting them a quick smile before she pressed another kiss to Sihtric’s lips, whispering a soft “I’d never leave you like that”.

……

The moon stood high in the dark sky, reflecting in the cold water currently teasing their limbs. Sihtric held (y/n)’s naked frame to his equally bare skin, still shaken up by the way he had looked for her hours ago, unable to let go of his uneasiness.

No words were spoken as they cleaned themselves, removing the reminders of a brutal but successful battle. Another victory men, women, and children would talk about for centuries to come, they were sure of it.

But even though the others had tried to pull the two lovers into their traps, wanting to celebrate their victory with endless pours of ale, neither Sihtric nor (y/n) had been in the mood to spend time with those they loved like their family. Sihtric had pulled (y/n) away from the crowd at the first chance, needing to feel her close with a sober mind and clear thoughts.

“I have never felt more frightened than today, the thought of finding you dead because I wasn’t there to protect you-“ Sihtric choked on his words, having to force his teeth into his lower lip to stop his cries from clawing through him. A facade (y/n) saw through all too easily, wrapping her arms around his neck to pull him down for a kiss.

The kiss wasn’t as heated, as forceful as the one they had shared on the battlefield, but it had something equally emotional to it, transmitting their every longing. A soft moan left (y/n) as Sihtric’s strong hands found her behind, pulling her against his hardening cock. She held a special kind of magic over the man, making waves of lust thump through his veins at any given chance, his very own Ragnarök, the chaotic end of his world, and those the gods had crafted for themselves.

“Sihtric,” she mewled his name, movements slowed by the river, needing a few moments till their legs finally found their way around his waist. His cock rubbed against her folds, making both hiss in anticipation, knowing that this night would yet be another one filled with endless orgasms, with their insatiable desire for one another driving them on. “I need you, need to feel you, need to make sure that you’re still here, with me.”

Sihtric forced her into another kiss as he started walking towards the meadow leading up the hill, shielded by the darkness from any drunken men and women that may find their way down to the river. A gasp managed to leave (y/n) as he placed them down, pinning her against the ground with his weight on top of hers, not leaving any space between them.

“You’re mine, my woman, my warrior, till the day I die. I’ll never leave your side again, just the thought of losing you makes me want to end my own life. No day is worth living if I don’t get to share it with you.” The words Sihtric whispered against her swollen lips drew tears to (y/n)’s eyes, staring at her man with love and longing swimming in her pupils, only ripped out of her trance as she felt his calloused fingertips on her pulsing bundle.

Expectedly he circled the soft flesh, finding enjoyment in the sounds she let go of, begging him for more, needing to feel him buried deep inside of her. There was no need for any words, nothing would ever manage to describe what they felt for one another, what they needed to do to give in to their longings.

With his eyes burning through hers, Sihtric aligned his cock with her entrance, slowly pushing into her after he coated himself with her arousal. He took his time, wanting to savour every moment, wanting to hear the gasps leaving his lover as he sank even deeper into her, still having to adjust to the stretch after all these months. And only after (y/n) managed to choke on his name did he allow himself to properly take care of her, set on a ferocious rhythm that made both their hearts race in excitement.

Profanities left Sihtric as he interlaced his hands with hers, pinning them over her head to keep her in place. He needed to control the moment, especially after a day like this, a day where he had gotten a glimpse into a future he wanted to avoid at every cost, needing to change their fate as he still had the power to do so. She was his end and his beginning, a story that had found its beginning in Muspell, the place not even the strongest souls had managed to endure, but no matter the biting heat, he’d walk through it all if it meant getting to love her.

“Look at me, Sihtric.” (Y/n) forced his piercing eyes to focus on her, feeling his thoughts start to wander as the speed of his rough thrusts momentarily began to falter, needing to catch him before he could slip into a realm filled with darkness. “I’m here, with you. Nothing and nobody can ever change that, I’m with you for as long as you’ll have me.”

With her head being lifted from the ground, she kissed him, taking over the control to flip them around, straddling his lap. Both were desperate for their release, needing to feel that blinding sensation they were aching for. Sihtric kept watching her, marvelling at her, admiring her with his hands wandering up her frame, cupping her naked breasts.

The way he pinched her hardened nipples forced her to arch her back, head rolling back to let go of a deep, gritty moan. Sihtric could have come from the sound alone, having to stop himself from giving in as he felt her walls flutter around him. He watched her fuck herself on his twitching cock, sneaking one hand down her frame to rub her bundle.

And with the call of his name, (y/n) came, scratching at his naked chest with the intense feeling racing through her body. Once again she found herself pressed to the ground as Sihtric searched for his high, fucking into her even faster than before. He came with a gasp, eyes squeezed shut, lips parted. A sight so beautiful (y/n) wanted to freeze the passing by moments, forever needing to remember this very second.

“I love you, and nothing will ever change that Sihtric Kjartansson.”

#Sihtric smut #Sihtric imagine #Sihtric x reader #the last kingdom #the last kingdom imagine

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eroslove88 · 1 year

Text

Yandere Kazuha Drabble

Warnings: Kidnapping (held hostage in your own home), drugging, somnophilia, noncon, implied virgin Kazuha and breeding kink

Notes: Been having some Kazuha on my feed lately and I had to write for him. Also, if you'd like me to add a "cut" let me know I'm kind lazy rn but if it bothers you don't be shy. :)!

Kazuha feels bad, you were so scared. His sword to your throat and his other hand twisting your arm behind your back. He couldn't help feeling a bit of guilt and pleasure from hearing your small whimpers and sniffles. When you met him he was so upset when you didn't say "your welcome" to his gratitude, you just nodded and practically ran away. So for the following weeks you'd occasionally "accidentally" run into him, but you'd stutter out an apology and huridly walk away before he could answer. He thought it was cute seeing you all flustered and shy.

He lead you back into your house and locked the door and he stared at your trembling form. Your hands wipe the tears from your face as you look at the floor, "P-please" you whisper out, "I-I don't have much-" but he walks forward making you gulp and stop midsentence. His hand cups your cheek and makes you look up, it was the boy from the docks, you avoid eye, "I don't want anything from you" he states wiping your tears away with his thumbs, "Just do as your told and you should be fine" your lips tremble as a sob builds up in your throat, it comes out a bit but your hands clasp over your mouth. You don't want to anger the man, "Hm" a satisfied hum as he let's you go and walks toward your kitchen.

He takes out herbs from his pockets and removes your kettle from its cabinet. You wanna question how he knows it's there but you don't wanna get in more trouble so you stand in the exact spot, frozen by fear. Kazuha starts a tea with the herbs and while he's bending down for cups you decide to run, your room wasn't far and though you're not one for risks- your life wa on the line anyways. As you make a right your left arm hits the wall and you resist the urge to stop. But you're barely half way down the hall when a gust of wind slams you into the wall at the end. You cry out in pain as your ears ring from the impact you have a cut on your forehead and when your hand comes up to press on the wound his foot steps on it pinning it down. It hurt like hell as you look up and fave your captor he seems upset but not in a, "How dare you" way but in a, "You give me no choice" kind of way.

The man slings you over his shoulder as you cry into in back he places you down on a chair in the dining area. A warm cup of tea is waitirfor you, "Drink." he demands pushing the cup closer. You're too busy wiping the tears off your face but he slams his first down on the table, which catches your attention, and though you're crying you nod and grab the warm cup.

You drink a few sips then put your cup down sniffling, "S-sir..." you pause before crying into your hands, "Don't hurt me, m'sorry. I don't know what I d-did wrong" you sounded so pitiful as he points to the cup, "Drink it. All. " he demands grabbing the cup and pushing it into your lips. Submissively you do so, it's hot and it burns your tongue and throat a bit but you tough it out and try to force yourself.

You don't remember anything after that, everything went black soon after you finished your cup. Kazuha however, remembers everything.

He picked you up and tossed you onto the bed and began hungrily taking your clothes off. He left hickeys on your neck and collarbones as his hands fondled your warm boobs. "Mmm, what a pretty girl" he whispers pulling at your soft nubs. His tongue licks between your breast and chills ran down your unconscious spine. You shift in your sleep as he flicks your nips. He watches your face in awe as it contorts when he sucks on your tit. A small moan leaves your lips and he almost looses it, he quickly unbuckled his pants and pushed you into a matingpress position. His spat on your already wet pussy hoping to help it lube things up. Kazuha tries to take it slow, but as soon as his tip enters your warm hole he whimpers and start pounding into you. The bed creaks with each thrust as labored breaths and huffs leave your mouths. A moan escapes him when your pussy clenches around his cock. He wonders if you could sense how good he's making you feel. "Aha~" you cry out and he realizes that nails are digging into the fat on your hips. But he doesn't stop, it turns him on and he picks up the pace, "It's ok sweetie- ah- almost there" he reassures your knocked out form. You cum on his cock and he's still chasing his climax as sweat drips down your faces and tears brim his eyes. A moan of relief leaves his mouth when he cums inside your cunt, he collapses onto your front side and looks at you for a bit, "I still have time" he mumbles wiping his tears of joy. "Gotta make sure you don't leave me" he flips your over onto your stomach and pounds your pussy from behind. He'll make sure you can't walk in the morning, and that his seed finds your sweet unfertilized eggs.

#tw yandere #tw kidnapping #yandere #tw noncon #genshin yandere #yandere genshin impact #genshin impact #yandere genshin x reader #yandere kazuha #yanderekaedahara #kazuha #drugging cw #interracial breeding #somno breeding

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esamastation · 7 months

Text

Shizuroth, part eleven.

Previous parts: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten

Well, at least Sephiroth knows better than to run around the Shinra building in a t-shirt and pyjama pants - which, while no doubt amusing, would've caused far too much chaos to be worth it.

While Angeal is putting away the remains of Sephiroth's fast food, Genesis gives the man himself an assessing eye.

The shirt he'd picked up, dark green turtleneck, works well enough with the usual coat. The outfit would need some more matching accents to really work - there's too much black and grey, they overpower the slight splash of colour - but at least it doesn't clash with anything. However… It's obvious there's simply not enough space in the sleeves of Sephiroth's coat for a full-sleeved shirt.

The leather creaks in agony when Sephiroth moves his arm, and his bicep bulges accordingly.

"Couldn't find a new coat, then?" Genesis asks, resting a hand at his hip.

Sephiroth tugs at his cuffs unhappily and bows his head, saying nothing. That's a no then.

Well. As weird as it is that memory loss gave Sephiroth the kick he needed to exercise some self-care, Genesis isn't about to look a gift chocobo in the talons. "I'll mail you the details of the shop where I got mine. They don't do mail order, everything is bespoke, but well worth the effort."

"Mn. My thanks," Sephiroth says, considers his gloves, and pushes them into a pocket. He then picks up his sword, and holds it by its sheath at his side. "Shall we?"

"You know Lazard isn't going to be happy about this," Angeall comments idly, putting the trash in the garbage. "I'm pretty sure he banned us from using the training room, permanently."

"What he doesn't know can't come to bite us in the ass," Genesis says dismissively. "And besides, we're supposed to be evaluating Sephiroth! Surely we must be thorough about it."

Angeal shakes his head, amused, and looks at Sephiroth, now fully dressed, with a shirt. He looks relieved. "Let's go."

They head out, Sephiroth trailing after them and clearly trying to cover up the fact that he has no idea where they're going.

"Floors 49 to 51 are dedicated to the SOLDIER program," Genesis says, once they're safely in the elevator. "49 is training and equipment, 50 has a gym and gear storage, and 51 is SOLDIER offices - Lazard office is up there too. We're heading to 49, where the training room is."

Catching his meaning, Angeal adds, "Floor 49 also has a briefing room, it's where we acquire most of our missions."

Sephiroth looks at them sideways through his bangs silently for a moment before nodding ever so slightly. "I see."

He really doesn't remember any of it? Damn. "You don't usually hang around on the SOLDIER floors, outside receiving missions," Genesis says, looking at Angeal and arching his brows. "You're not usually around much."

"Mn."

"I think you go to the Record's sometimes in your down time," Abgeal offers, clearing his throat and arching his brows to Genesis. "Floor 58. It houses the Shinra public archives."

"Well, public," Genesis says, shrugging. "You need a keycard to access it and a high enough security level to actually take anything out, and of course none of the really classified files are accessible. And their drama section is abysmal."

Sephiroth hums, looking between them suspiciously. "A library, then?"

"If you want to call it that. Midgar Public Library has better variety - and a little less propaganda - but I imagine you've never been," Genesis sniffs and looks at him.

"Ah," Sephiroth says, wary.

"You'd be swarmed there," Genesis clarifies. "By the grateful and adoring public."

Sephiroth shifts his weight at that and says nothing, looking uncomfortable.

Angeal hides how troubled he is well as he faces Sephiroth, but Genesis can hear it in his voice. "The cafeteria, by the way, is on floor 61," he says. "It's not usually too bad, and people tend to leave members from other departments alone."

"Or you can pay the cafeteria staff under the table to deliver," Genesis muses and looks up as the elevator comes to a stall. "Right, I'll go see that the coast is clear. Angeal -"

"We'll just wait here," Angeal says, knowing, and looks at Sephiroth - who is very much not ready to be jumped on by an excited baby SOLDIER asking for pointers.

"Then off I go, to face the beasts," Genesis says and sets forth.

It's a well-practised routine at this point, to subtly chase away any wayward SOLDIER Second Class members from the training room. Mostly it just involves him walking in and making his presence known - Seconds tend to know to make way.

Thirds are trickier, because they're often too new to know better - but SOLDIER Third Classes don't have access to the training room anyway.

"Genesis, sir," a Second Class he's sometimes trained with, Kunsel, sidles up to him. "It's it true? About Sephiroth?"

Well, at least he knows to keep his voice down. "Is what true about Sephiroth?" Genesis asks, narrowing his eyes.

"I heard he was hanging around in Injections," Kunsel says carefully and adds, "In The Restroom?"

It really took them only a day, huh.

"Sephiroth? In The Restroom? Really," Genesis says as though excited and leans in. "When? Did someone see him?"

"Um, yesterday?" the Second Class says, also leaning in a little. "It was one of the Third Classes."

"... Oh," Genesis answers, affecting disappointment. "I see. Well, I'm pretty sure Sephiroth was at home yesterday."

"... Really?"

"Saw him myself," Genesis assures him with a shake of his head and rests a hand at his hip. "You said it was a Third Class who spotted him? Well. I wouldn't want to call them a liar, but… they were probably coming out of the procedure themselves. And you know how it is with Mako injections."

Kunsel hums in thought, looking a little troubled. "I do, sir," he says and shakes his head. "It did seem a bit weird."

"You should talk to the Third," Genesis says. "They're probably really convinced they saw something, and maybe they did - but it still wouldn't do to spread stories like that. That's only good for ruining someone's reputation."

"No sir, you're right. I'll talk to him," the Second Class says seriously and nods. "I'll take care of it."

"Good man - maybe take them out on some easy mission, get their mind off it," and get them out of the building for a bit. "It's not their fault. Mako plays tricks on us all."

With Kunsel and hopefully the rumours thus fended off, the coast to the training room is clear. Genesis heads to the elevators, where Angeal is casually poking at the floor button

"Showtime," Genesis says and looks at Sephiroth. "Time to see if you're still worthy of being a Hero."

Sephiroth clenches his hand around Masamune's sheath and gives him a weird look. "A hero?" he asks incredulously. "Me?"

… Oh. That's…

"Don't worry," Angeal says quickly, clapping Sephiroth on the shoulder. "We'll help you remember." But he looks worried too.

"Or else, take your place," Genesis says, but the taunt lacks its usual sting as he shares a look with Angeal.

This… might be even worse than they thought.

Gaslight, Gatekeep, Girlboss; Genesis.

#Fanfiction #ffvii #ff7 #svsss #sephiroth #genesis rhapsodos #angeal hewley #shen qingqiu #shen yuan

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tashacee · 5 months

Note

ALSO

Mask!Wild meets Aspect!Wild

Mask is so confused why this seven-foot-something lion man (with scarring a lot like his???) keeps hugging him and giving him stuff

Aspect takes one look at this version of himself and says "I call dibs on adopting him, screw you Time"

This ended up SO long but oh well

Aspects of a Mask

Wild hadn’t meant to cause trouble. The Temple was complete, the boss dead, and the treasure looted and divided between everyone’s bags. When he spied the two little statuettes at the side of the room, his only thought had been to straighten them where they stood on their little shelf. They were sweet little things, two identical brothers made of jade, and it would have been a shame to leave them sitting lopsided.

But of course, nothing was ever as simple as that. Wild straightened the figure on the right and all of a sudden there was flash of blinding light and a disjointed voice echoed through the boss chamber.

Wild didn’t catch all of what it said. Didn’t matter. The Chain got the gist of it.

In a universe running parallel with theirs was another Chain, and the parallel hero to the one who had touched the statuette would be coming through to meet them. Something about meeting yourself to know yourself to -

It was a lot of mystical sounding mambo jumbo, but Wild was pretty sure thaat it was just whatever Wizard enchanted the statuettes way of messing with wayward explorers who picked them up.

Wild squeaked in horror and put the statuette down again, skittering backwards in alarm. It made no difference, though. The light had solidified and shifted to the middle of the room, hovering a few feet above the ground and growing in size, shifting into a portal.

Oh Hylia. What had he done? Wild gasped and found himself signing apologies, that he hadn’t meant to do anything, but his hands were shaking so much that it was hardly understandable. He was backing away and only stopped when he ran into Time, his oldest brother’s armour clatterng.

Time placed his hands gently on Wild’s shoulders, squeezing slightly.

“Hey.” he said softly. “Wild. It’ll be alright.”

Wild shook his head but still couldn’t speak. His mask felt unbearably tight on his face. The walls of the temple seemed to be pressing in. He had to get out, had to go somewhere with wide spaces and fresh air. He couldn’t be here. He didn’t want to meet himself from another timeline. Hylia only knew what he’d be like. Would he be the same as Wild? Would his face be-

Or would he be untouched? Would it be him, but the him who didn’t fail?

Wild shook his head and pulled out of Time’s grasp, backing away from the growing portal. Whatever was going to fall through it, he didn’t want to see. Wild had enough trouble dealing with himself at the best of times, having to face another of himself?

Absolutely not.

“Wild?” that was Twilight now.

Wild looked over and saw his brother looking at him in alarm. He was holding an arm out, inviting Wild to come to him if he wanted. His pelt looked warm and inviting, but the thought of being near someone right now was almost too much to handle.

Well, if Wild could say one thing about what happened next, it at least stopped him from having to make his mind up about what to do.

The light flashed. Something - someone? - yelped. Someone fell through the portal with the crash and the light vanished, leaving the Chain staring at what was lying on the ground before them.

It-

It did not look like Wild.

It was a massive, bestial creature, covered in fur and more cat than person. The left side of its body was coated with scars, and it wore a sarong about its waist and was covered in tattoos and jewellery that spoke of some sort of intelligence and culture.

The chain all reached for their swords, just in case, and the creature looked up. Its eyes were bright and blue as it looked around at them all. It lifted its hands.

“Warriors.” it signed. “I swear to Hylia if you shoot me again-”

Wait. What?

Was this - the creature recognised Warriors. It seemed to recognise them all, from how it looked around at them all with something akin to amusement. Wild peered through the crowd of his brothers as it stood, taking in the scars that laced its body. There were less than on his own body and face, but they were still familiar, and the placement of the craters on its chest-

Was this-

“Wild?” Twilight asked.

The creature seemed surprised at being addressed by the rancher, but nodded, giving him a thumbs up. “That’s me.” it - he - said. “I touched a weird statue thing and now i apparently get to hang out with you all for a week.”

What?

The Chain all relaxed and began to sheathe their swords, all moving forwards to greet their temporary new brother. Wild hung back, ducking into Twilight’s shadow.

“You-” Sky began to say and cleared his throat. “You recognised us?” he observed.

Other-Wild seemed fascinated by Sky, bending over to peer into his eyes. “You can see me!” he signed.

Sky frowned. “...yes?”

Other-Wild laughed, a strange, animal sound. “Neat! Yeah I recognised you. I know I look weird. My Chain don’t look like this, it’s just me. I tried on a magic outfit and got stuck in this body. We’re working on it. It’s a whole thing.” he shrugged, as if this was a perfectly normal thing to say. Then his eyes landed on Wind and Spirit and he yipped. “Two of you!” he signed.

Wind cackled. “Hell yeah, two of us! I’m Wind and he’s Spirit!”

Other-Wild blinked and then shrugged. “Sweet.” he said. “I want a picture.”

Then he looked around and his eyes landed on Wild.

There was no hiding any more. His brother all turned towards him, and while Twilight still stayed by his side, he felt horribly exposed. Other-Wild stepped towards him, rumbling curiously and - oh Hylia he had a tail! - tail waving slowly behind him.

“Nice mask!” he signed. “Fashion Queen!”

Beside him, Wild felt Twilight tense, but something inside him loosened at the words. He started to giggle.

“Fashion Queen!” he agreed, all nerves suddenly gone.

It was a joke that he had never told anyone, not even Flora. Once at a stable someone had ridden past in the most ludicrous outfit that Wild had ever seen, brightly coloured mismatched silks and bells and jewels and glistening gold braid. It was an incredible, more than slightly ridiculous sight. Wild, along with everyone else, had openly stared as they passed. And then, after a moment of silence, a little girl who had been staying with her parents, exclaimed ‘A Fashion Queen!’

The whole stable had burst into laughter, and ever since then Wild had, whenever he tried something new on, thought about that moment. About ‘fashion queen’. It was silly, but it was fun. If this creature, if this person knew about that, then-

“You are me?” Wild asked incredulously.

The cat-man shrugged. “Guess so.” he tilted his head, big eyes flicking up and down Wild’s body, taking him in. Wild felt himself draw inwards, flushing under the scrutiny.

Much as he found this new, cat-version of himself interesting, he couldn’t help but see his scars. They wrapped around a solid half of his body, and while they didn’t cover as much of him as they did Wild, while they didn’t destroy his face in the same way, it was still striking how confidently he bared them to the world.

This Wild wasn’t trying to hide his scars. He was bare chested and didn’t seem to care who saw them. Would he judge Wild for his mask, for his loose clothes? This was what he dreaded. He already had enough inner feelings about himself, the idea of another him condemning him-

The Other-Wild purred and closed the gap between them. “Can we get out of this temple? It’s stuffy in here.” his signs were light and conversational as he brushed his tail against Wild’s side and then draped it companionably around his waist. “You like to cook? I do, but my Chain are hopeless…”

The conversation went on like this, gentle and cheerful and undemanding. Wild found himself relaxing around his new brother-self, who was so unlike him but also so very very like him.

The week went by in a blink of an eye. Wild and Wild, to everyone’s surprise, most of all their own, spent hours together, chatting or cooking or even just curled up and dozing. They both had a habit of wandering off and no one had a clue where they were until Twilight stumbled into them, both in their underwear, shield surfing down the side of a very steep hill.

He backed away and never mentioned it to anyone.

Terrified as he had been to meet himself from another universe, now that he had gotten to know Other-Wild, Wild didn’t want to lose him. When the end of the week finally rolled around he clung to his brother-self, tearful as he bade him goodbye.

Other-Wild knelt before him to be eye level and pulled him into a tight hug.

“We will meet again.” he promised. “I’ll fight Hylia myself.”

Wild giggled wetly. From what he’d learned of his other self this past week, he believed it.

Other-Wild glanced around and then leaned in so that no one else could see what he said. “You can trust them.” he said, gesturing to the chain. “Trust me. They all love you. They’ll never judge you. I promise.”

Wild had tearfully showed him his face a few days ago, but he hadn’t received any of the censure that he had expected. Instead Other-Wild had given him only love and understanding, and had shown him a selection of his own most gruesome scars, including the stump of his missing arm.

Wild hugged him again, burying his head into his fur. Other-Wild rumbled and held him a moment more, and then the portal appeared behind him. He straightened, purred once more as he waved to the Chain, and was gone.

Beneath his mask, Wild felt himself smile. It may have only been a week, but something fundamental felt changed inside of him. He felt a little happier, a little more confident.

Wild turned and jogged over to Twilight’s side, taking his brother’s hand and burying himself into his side.

Somehow, he felt, everything would be alright.

#it me #replies #hero’s aspect au #hero's aspect #finding family #mask!wild #my writing

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