#like the nakedness seems more balanced now

[twistedmadara]

i love this story, i love the history inspiration, i loooove the artwork, right now i especially love to see these characters grow. i love seeing the different directions their character arcs are taking them and at what stages they are in their personal development and that all characters get exposition, i love to see what events are impacting which characters which way, i love the lore, i love the gore and the intensity and that so many characters die dramatically (though at some point my heart might need a break), i fucking love everything about this manga right now and i am so glad that i am barely a third of the way through

#if it doesn't get better within the next few chapters #i'll have to stop #the beginnings might have been rough sailing for me #but i feel like also the maga itself improved #like the nakedness seems more balanced now #and not as a means to solely sexualise a woman/prepubescent girl #it all seems more balanced #tbh i've been thinking this for a while #maybe i haven't read enough manga and naruto has been part of my life for 13 years now #and so i only have naruto in my head #but even though jigokuraku is a completely different story #i kind of think that this is what naruto could have been if naruto were good #i feel like certain aspects of naruto that i had loved are present in this manga but so much better #and the female characters are well-written thank god #remember that part in my post (i'll have to read through my post again) where i say ? well just then it did get better boy oh boy #though some part of me gripes a little at all the characters being insanely beautiful who look like nothing more than like 25 #but it's manga haha and really i don't mind thaat much

[kunikuyu]

A punishment...?

F. Toji x Male! Reader x F. Megumi (Separately)

Warning: Dub-con, partially dark content, everyone here is of legal age, dom!bottom! Reader with sub!top! Megumi. dom!top! Toji with sub!bottom! Reader. There is no incest. Toji is a bit of an... Asshole guy here. He clearly doesn't care about his son's feelings. Toji is mischaracterized.

Summary: It was Megumi's 19th birthday, and [Name], like the great boyfriend he is, decided to prepare a surprise for the guy he loves so much. He had been wanting to do this for so long, and now he can, because Toji, Megumi's father, wasn't there. Well, he was wrong.

It was at night, 10 p.m. to be specific. [Name] was having his perfect moment with his boyfriend. It was a romantic moment, and there was no better gift he could give to the boy he loved so much.

The bed creaked softly, soft cries could be heard, accompanied by whimpers of overstimulation. Megumi was on top of [Name], while the older boy gently caressed his thighs, trying to get Megumi to relax. The birthday boy's hands pressed against his boyfriend's chest to seek balance, while scratching gently. [Name]'s eyes couldn't even stay open for long, even though he wanted to enjoy the view in front of him, the sight of his boyfriend whimpering as he tries to ride him harder.

The house was completely silent, much to [Name]'s happiness, as that meant they were still alone. But not for long. He continued to encourage his boyfriend by squeezing his thigh and massaging his waist. [Name] had luck on his side today as Toji wasn't home and probably wouldn't be back anytime soon. It would be bad to fuck his son while he's at home, right?

But...

No one had noticed, because they were too busy with their business, and even if they hadn't been busy, they wouldn't have felt his presence... Two silent knocks on Megumi's bedroom door, which if they had been heard, could have prevented a lot of things.

The two look surprised at the figure standing in the bedroom door, they already knew who it was. They were caught without even having a chance to escape... They don't know what Toji's reaction will be. It must be shocking to see your son having sex with another guy, right?

"You" He points to Megumi, with a disdainful voice, but deep down, you can hear a tone of lust. "Get out of here now." The boy doesn't want to go out, leave his boyfriend looking like he's clearly going to make mincemeat of him? He's not that cowardly. But, [Name]'s hand squeezed his, showing that it was okay to leave him alone with Toji.

The boy stands up, eliciting a soft moan from [Name] as he feels his already overstimulated cock come out of Megumi. Both of their faces burned red, what an embarrassing situation. The reason they were both embarrassed was obvious, but [Name] was embarrassed for another reason... Anyway, Megumi puts on his black hoodie to cover his nakedness, and before leaving, he murmurs, already feeling more confident.

"Don't you dare hurt him. I'll never forgive you if you do that." But he only heard a laugh in response.

Less than a second after Megumi leaves the room, the door slams shut and is locked from the inside out. [Name] barely had time to put on some pants as Toji was already on top of him. What a situation, completely naked, pinned against the bed by his boyfriend's father, while he thinks he's going to get the biggest beating of his life. But he needed to confess, being beaten by a man like Toji didn't seem so bad... No, he couldn't think about something like that, he already has a boyfriend. Plus, Toji sure doesn't like him.

"I can understand why my son chose you." He says in a low voice, while gently licking the youngest's neck. The young man's eyes widen at this, he wasn't expecting it at all. Still, He was too incredulous and surprised to say anything. Toji's knee lightly rubbed against [Name]'s erection, eliciting sly moans from him.

"S-stop it, I'm your son's boyfriend, dude!" In return, he only receives a light slap on the face.

"If you really wanted me to stop, you would have started kicking yourself by now, don't you think?" That's all he says, before starting to take off the pants and underwear he was wearing. [Name] almost fainted when he saw the size of that guy, it was definitely much bigger than his, he definitely wouldn't fit inside.

And when [Name] thought about using lub... Well, Toji had already positioned himself there and was clearly not going to help the younger boy. Maybe this is punishment for fucking his son. To make matters worse, Toji left him in a very uncomfortable position, in a mating press.

"Nghh! Ah, ah~"

That was all Megumi could hear. He was worried, almost crying in despair because he had already understood what was happening. His father was actually able to do this to his boyfriend...? Right on his birthday... Everything was completely ruined by his father. He is burning with hatred, he can't even describe it in words. And unfortunately, he can't get in there, the door is locked and he wouldn't stand a chance against Toji.

Well, while Megumi was worried, [Name] didn't even know what to feel, he just knew he was on the verge of fainting. His dick just dripped drops of cum, as he had already climaxed several times. His mouth was leaking drool and his face was completely red. His lips were bitten and were constantly kissed. The only one who was perfectly fine was Toji, and he was the one who took advantage of the situation the most. And how could it not? A cute boy with this one in his hands, just being used as a cum dump. He didn't even care anymore if the young man was his son's boyfriend.

The bed seemed like it was going to break at any moment, and the neighbors were clearly going to complain about the noise, but it's okay, Toji will deal with it tomorrow. It's been a while since Toji has had to make do with cheap prostitutes, but now, he has the perfect person to satisfy him, and he's not going to let this opportunity pass him by anytime soon. His cock was quickly moving in and out of the boy, who no longer felt any pain, he just felt his prostate being crushed every time by Toji's disproportionate size.

It was already 3 p.m. when Toji finally decided to give [Name] a rest. Various positions were tested, and the bed was filled with the liquid they both gushed out as they reached their climax. The young man clearly won't be able to walk for quite some time.

The two kissed in a disorganized way, as [Name] barely had the strength to move his tongue. He moaned softly when he felt Toji's length come out of him, feeling an emptiness in his body. The older man just put on his coat and pants, a small smile on his mouth. Toji clearly doesn't regret doing it, he doesn't care and he would do it again.

He opens the door and goes into the living room, approaching his son. "You have good taste, congratulations.” He was clearly making fun of his own son after fucking his boyfriend for hours. He grabs his keys and leaves the house, without looking back, as if it were all a joke.

Megumi runs back to his room and locks the door so Toji can't come in anymore. He doesn't even bother to turn on the light, and just runs towards his boyfriend.

"...I'm sorry..."

He sits on top of his boyfriend to hug him. Megumi doesn't normally like hugs, but he wants to be comforted and he wants to comfort his boyfriend. [Name] hugs him back. He barely had the strength to speak, and even if he had, he wouldn't say anything, because he wouldn't have the courage to say he liked what happened, even though he was forced to do it at first.

#toji fushiguro #toji x reader #jjk toji #toji smut #jjk megumi #megumi x reader #male reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #smut #spotify #jjk #toji x male reader #megumi fushiguro #megumi x male reader #SoundCloud

[xomakara]

Miracle Worker

MW Chap. Master | Previous | Next

Chapter 10

"Do you trust me, Y/N?"

"Yes," You said, surprising yourself. "Yes, I trust you."

Johnny made a soft sound, as if the words had caught him off guard.

Gradually his hands slid across the upper part of your chest, exerting a gentle pressure that caused you to lean back against him. you felt his mouth on the back of your neck, his lips playing through the tender wisps at your nape. He tasted the downy skin, then pressed the edge of his teeth in a sensitive spot that made you squirm against him in pleasure. Working his way to the side of your neck, he nibbled his way to the tip of your ear lobe, while his hands moved to the hem of the shirt you wore. He didn’t say anything as his hands crept up under your shirt, his fingers now caressing your bare skin. you moved away from him for a slight moment, only to remove the shirt and fling it somewhere in his living room. His fingertips drifted to your throat, caressed the vulnerable curve, then traveled to the wing of your collarbone.

"You're beautiful, Y/N." Johnny lightly whispered. "The way you feel and taste... your skin, your hair..."

He sank his fingers into the black silken locks that fell over your shoulders. Bringing your hair to his face, he rubbed it against his cheek and chin. Heat played your body, rising, intensifying, and you leaned back against the solid form behind you. And when you looked up to stare into his eyes, he took advantage and took your lips in his in one full sweep. He heard you gasp a little before your lips moved against his. You didn’t know what compelled you to do it, but you turned to face him, moved to straddle his lap, your arms coming to wrap around his neck. Your bodies pressed together; you could feel the hardness of Johnny’s clothed chest against yours. Johnny reached behind you and deftly unhooked your bra, releasing you. Your breasts, which were lifted by your bra, were left unconfined, the tips hardening against the chilly air. His hand lifted and he touched you. Sliding his fingers beneath the fullness of your breast, he drew his thumb over the shape of your nipple. His touch was very light, lingering at the tip until it burned.

Gasping, you grasped his shoulders for balance. He slid a solid arm behind your back as he continued to toy gently with your body, taking your nipples in his fingers, stroking softly. An ache of pleasure formed deep in your stomach as he cupped your breast in his hand, containing the roundness in his palm. Suddenly you wanted him to touch your other breast. You wanted his mouth on you, everywhere, and to slide your own lips across the heat of his skin, and to feel his unclothed body against yours. Frustrated and eager, you tugged at his shirt, until his choppy laugh ruffled throughout your hair.

"Slowly," Johnny lightly chuckled. "There’s no need to hurry."

Your hands moved to the hem of his shirt, slowly rolling the fabric up his chest before flinging it somewhere. He removed his sweats...and finally his boxers that obscured the sight of his cock. Suddenly you didn't know where to look. He should appear vulnerable in his nakedness, but he seemed more powerful now than when he'd had his clothes on. His body was hewn with brutal grace, lean and muscular and superbly fit.

Why did you look away? You had sex with lots of men before so the sight of a man’s penis shouldn’t be alarming to you. But why couldn’t you look at Johnny?

Johnny’s fingertips traced the side of your cheek. "Why are you being so shy? You act like you’ve never seen a dick before."

Your cheeks felt hot, and you lightly hit his shoulder. "Shut up, Johnny."

"Do you enjoy the way I touch you?" He asked softly, his voice filled with concern and uncertainty.

Color blazed in your face, and you managed a jerking nod.

"You'll enjoy the rest of it too." He promised, sliding your panties off. He stood before you, his hand trailing over you back, raising goose bumps on your body. "Put your arms around me Y/N."

You obeyed, bringing your body fully against his. Your nipples collided against his chest. His body was incredibly hot, his cock burning against your stomach, prodding the flat area until he slid his hands beneath your ass and hitched you up. His hands slid between your ass to hold you compactly against him, and you felt him pressed against your sex. A shock of sensation went through you, followed by a surge of lust so acute that you could hardly bear it. Gripping his neck, you pushed your face against the dense muscle of his shoulder. His fingers slid between your thighs, stroking you until you became wet and straining against his cock.

Johnny carried you back to his room and towards the bed to lay you there. He slid under the covers along with you. His head disappeared, and you felt his hands on you knees, pushing them apart.

"Johnny..." You asked raggedly. "What are you d-doing?"

His voice was muffled. "Something I always wanted to do."

You inhaled sharply as he nipped at your inner thigh. "Damn it, Johnny..."

His mouth descended on your sweet, aching sex. His breath filled the moist cleft with steamy heat. A moan rose in your throat, and he grabbed your wrists tightly. His tongue searched through the springy curls until he reached the rosy lips hidden beneath. He licked one side of your sex, then the other, the tip of his tongue teasing delicately.

His mouth ravished you so gently, his tongue slipping over you melting flesh to find the secret entrance to your body, filling you with silky heat...withdrawing...filling. You went weak all over, your sex pulsing urgently. As Johnny nuzzled and played with you, you tried to angle your body so that he would touch the peak that throbbed so desperately. He seemed not to understand what you wanted, licking all around the sensitive spot but not quite reaching it.

"Johnny..." You whispered, finding the words that you wanted. "Please fuck me already."

But he continued to deny you, until you realized that he was doing it deliberately. Frustrated beyond bearing, you reached down to his head, and you felt a puff of his brief laugh against you. And then suddenly, his mouth settled over you, on that sweet yet aching spot.

"No." He murmured against your flesh as you arched into his mouth. "Not yet Y/N. Wait a little longer. Not without me."

"I can't, can't, oh, don't stop..." You pulled at his head frantically, groaning as he feathered his tongue over you once more.

Catching you wrists, Johnny pulled them over your head and settled his body between your thighs, taking care not to crush you. His cock was cradled in the hot valley between your legs. His dark eyes stared directly into you as he released your hands.

"Leave them there," he said, and you obeyed with a sob.

He kissed you breasts, moving from one to the other. With each incendiary swirl of his tongue, you nearly rose off the sheets. His cock slid in you with disciplined thrusts, making you cry out, teasing you, rubbing you, tormenting you. His mouth was at you nipples. You arched upward with supplicating moans. Stunning pleasures built inside you, gaining intensity...waited on the brink of passion as Johnny continued to thrust in you, harder, deeper, faster, skin slapping on skin.

“Johnny, I’m going to come.” You moaned, your fingers at the nape of his neck. "Oh, fuck!"

“Me too, Y/N. Me too.” He groaned out, his lips at your neck, biting, sucking.

“Let’s come together then. Let’s feel good together.” You responded, a gasp escaping you as Johnny thrusted into you faster. “Johnny, come in me.”

He groaned when you said that and then it hit you. Aimee cried out in bashful amazement as rich spasms spread from the center of you body, Johnny releasing himself in you as he rode out his high.

He collapsed on you and pulled you into his arms, as he rolled onto his back, taking you with him. Johnny kissed your forehead, your hair spilling over his chest.

"Johnny..."

"Yeah?"

You looked up at him, your cheeks flushed from your love session. "Damn, that was incredible."

Johnny let out a grin, a smirk on his lips. “See? Knew that sex with me would be mind-blowing. Not bad for someone who's four years younger than you, huh?”

“God, why didn’t we have sex sooner?” You mumbled against his chest.

Looking down at you, Johnny smiled and squeezed you lightly. "You were busy having sex with other guys and Taeil. Between the both of us, who’s better?"

You lifted your head to stare up at him. You slapped his arm before you moved over him, straddling his legs. “How can you ask that question? I mean Taeil was very pleasant in bed and then you....”

“I knew it was me.” Johnny chuckled as he felt you move down on him, your lips peppering kisses over his skin. “God, woman. Another round?”

You chuckled, your hands finding his penis and lightly stroking it. It wasn't long until it hardened. “Think you can keep up?”

“Oh, I know I can.”

MW Chap. Master | Previous | Next

#nct johnny #nct fanfic #nct jaehyun #nct smut #nct imagines #nct u #NCT 127 #NCT #jung jaehyun #johnny suh #jaehyun smut #johnny seo #johnny smut #OFFICE AU #pregnancy #miracles

[daisychainsandbowties]

👀 😈 💻

👀 oh this is neat because i can just choose a different wip! how about some bealil from star wars au 4

Even in the red-tinted dark, the black wires under her skin glisten. It’s hard not to see them as Beatrice reaches up, gently now, as if for the first time she has some apprehension of what she is touching. She is weak, still, and Lilith has to bow her head - a genuflection of sorts, a small surrender. 

Beatrice kisses her like she’s trying to steal her breath, like they’re trapped in open space together. Like there’s not enough air for either of them but she’s going to take it anyway. What little there is, she puts her mouth on it.

And Lilith tries not to be undone.

In space, if you hold a breath, the air expands inside your lungs and fills you up with holes. It’s like that with her sometimes – a disaster waiting to happen or one that has already happened. Lilith looks at her and feels that she will be torn apart in an instant by ebullism, or what they call vaporisation.

Being kissed by her not importantly distinct from dying, and that’s the trouble of it. Lilith leans into her, grazing Beatrice’s lower lip with her tongue, and she does not think in trite sentences – not you will be the death of me.

It is impossible to deny, as fingers slip down, tugging Lilith’s shirt from where it’s tucked into her belt, that Beatrice is death itself. Everything about her as tender as a fresh burn, and later Lilith will discover a patch of scarring, high on Beatrice’s hip, from the blade of her sabre, but just then there is only room inside of her for the feeling that she is to Beatrice what oxygen is to an open flame.

Lilith opens her eyes to find that Beatrice’s – bruised by sleeplessness and starved of light – are closed. Not shut, but fluttering on the edge of open, and gentled by that surrender. Her hands are raised, now, barely touching the edge of Lilith’s jaw, feather-light, one of them trembling from the strain that even this small action puts on her elbow. But she doesn’t close it into a fist, she just lets it flutter, and it’s no different, really, from nakedness. More naked, perhaps, than Lilith's blunt hands could manage.

😈 is there anything you enjoy doing that you think your readers hate?

i'm blessed to have readers who seem to enjoy the blood and misery as much as i do, so i think probably the thing that i have to balance my own enthusiasm for is what i've taken to calling the Beatrice Lecture Series, or the tendency of Beatrice to punch me in the throat and out of nowhere spend around 1000 words lecturing about some obscure strand of my own various interests. Lilith is the worst enabler of this habit, and while she is (probably) turned on by it, and while i am happy to be relegated to my paddling pool of blood while beatrice goes on, and on, and on - i do have to wade back into the narrative at a certain point with her kicking the shit out of me the entire time. yeah... sometimes i definitely do that too much. i wouldn't say that people hate it all the time, but if i fall for beatrice's good old 'hey casper look at this' too much i think it does get annoying, and i'm a poor judge of when, exactly, that happens.

💻 do you do research for your fics? what's the deepest dive you've done?

oh i am forever in the research. it's one of the best parts of writing for me - just rifling around in my own head and learning new things and getting lost in the sauce (wikipedia). oof, i've done some fairly deep-dives the past few months so i can't really choose one. definitely researching the physics of breakages at the molecular level for one (1) epigraph was... a time, but also the day before yesterday i read a papal encyclical in four different languages - though this was, at least, for one (1) line of actual dialogue in a fic.

all of the star wars research has been super interesting (my amazing smart incredible friends have so far picked up just one major lore-discrepancy in the star wars au) because i'm such a himbo star wars fan. like yeah, for star wars au you bet i had my shitty plastic lightsaber out in front of the mantlepiece practicing my obi-wan stance (& getting absolutely torn to shreds for my posture :/ which is humiliating when you have actual swordfighting skills) but i was (am) woefully ignorant of the vast majority of star wars lore, so rectifying that has been so much fun. also any and all ligaments research is so good - a couple of months ago i did an in-depth study of bird bones for, again, a bloody paragraph (indeed, a BLOODY paragraph) because i was curious as to how tarask-cooties might alter Lilith's poor gay skeleton.

#ty! these were REALLY good ones #me doing the perennial 'please please please ask me about my research' thing but only for the gay stuff #wn star wars au #messy messy bealil #also 'lilith's poor gay skeleton' is SUCH a mood in my writing. it really is like that #ask meme

[roroyaoi87]

The seance couples: Drunk

It's not as if their relationship was a secret that no one knew about, in fact, Klaus could bet, without fear of losing what little he had, that most of his siblings knew that his relationship with Five was not platonic. After all, neither he nor his lover were the most discreet people in the world, and whenever they were together, it was pretty obvious from their not-so-casual touches, their long looks of affection, and the occasional random stolen kiss. 

Not to mention the other activities they did since arriving at the hotel. Five is not a patient person, and he is not quiet, so Klaus is sure that all of his siblings know they have been having sex since arrived at the hotel. Also, the marks on his neck are hard to hide, even with make-up, and Klaus has made sure that Five always has a kiss mark somewhere visible.

So their relationship is no secret, but apparently, his siblings didn't know about them.

Until now, and surprisingly it wasn't his big mouth that exposed their relationship, the one to blame for his siblings being quite dumbfounded is none other than his very, very drunk boyfriend. 

One would think that Five would be a rather violent drunk, considering that every five minutes Five was threatening to kill them, and when he was a child his way of getting attention was to stick a knife to the table; but surprisingly Five drunk was an extremely loving, honest and rather bold person.

Bold enough to openly declare that he loves him and wants to marry him. Five, being Reginald's favorite son, he had made a long congratulatory speech to Luther and Sloane, before trying to sing him a love song, declaring that he wanted to marry him.

If this whole situation wasn't so .... .hilarious, Klaus would be excited and happy. Instead, he is trying to stop his boyfriend from sticking his hand down his shirt in front of their whole family.

Klaus is not a shy person, and nakedness is not something that makes him uncomfortable, but having sex in front of his siblings is something very different. He wouldn't even let Ben stay in the same room when he had sex in the past.

"I love you" Five declares for the fourth time, kissing his neck. 

"Fivey" tries to push Five away, but most of his brothers still do not react. 

" Be quiet, I'm trying to seduce you" protests the old man in a young man's body. 

This time, Klaus is going to have to be the adult in charge " I am not complaining, but not here" he declares firmly "I'll put him to bed" he announces and regrets it when sees Diego looks like he is going to have a nervous breakdown, Lila smiles like a little psycho, Viktor raises his glass while smiling amused, Ben and Sloane look confused, Allison snorts and walks away with dignity while Luther seems to be too dumbfounded to say anything.

Good thing the end of the world is near! Klaus thinks as he drags his lover towards the lift. An almost impossible task because Five seems more focused on touching him under his clothes as he tries to remove them while awkwardly kissing him.

"Marry me," the older man asks again.

Klaus sighs like a schoolgirl in love at those sincere but awkward words. He sighs the same way he sighed for Five when he was 13. It's not his fault that Five is so cute when he's drunk, Five is always beautiful, but when Five's drunk: he's adorable.  

"Ask me when you're not drunk," he murmurs against Five's lips. "Tomorrow, you're going to regret all this so much."

"I won't."

Klaus laughs as he imagines the look on his lover's face when he learns that their family now knows about their relationship. "Oh yes, you will." 

Five leans against him, holding him tightly around the waist "You have beautiful eyes" he murmurs.

"Oh honey, you're so drunk" he laughs, not meaning it meanly but it's amusing to see this relaxed side of Five. 

"I'm not" he protests, and Klaus has to struggle to keep his balance as he leads Five to their room. 

Five may not be as tall as he is, but his latest growth spurt has given him a more toned and muscular body, so Klaus has difficulty getting them to the bed, Five who is still growing, Klaus has always been more compact and slim. Luckily they make it to the bed without falling off on the way. 

"Come, lie down next to me," asks Five, opening his arms in invitation. 

This is not how he imagined they would spend their last night, but when Five embraces him and feels his warm body against his, he can't imagine anything better than this. Perhaps letting the world end and dying is much better than constantly fighting and escaping the apocalypse.

After all, he has learned to control his powers, and knows they could have a good life in the void. Their little piece of heaven. Together for all eternity. 

"I love you" he confesses, and Five kisses him softly, tenderly, and lovingly.

Their relationship was no secret, and maybe has a lot of explaining to do tomorrow to their dysfunctional family, but for now, this is all Klaus needs to be happy. 

#the umbrella academy #klaus hargreeves #five hargreeves #klive #tua #harcest #fic request #tua klive #drabble

[storiesagehumileation]

The bet gone wrong

Olly's breath came in erratic puffs, misting the cool morning air as he dashed through the park, his bare feet slapping against the dewy grass. The early sun cast long shadows that played over his exposed skin, lending a surreal quality to the spectacle of his nakedness. Tilly, perched on a bench with her arms wrapped around her middle, couldn't contain the peals of laughter that escaped her; their wager had seemed so harmless when whispered under the cloak of twilight and bravado.

"Come on, Olly!" Tilly cheered, egging him on with a mischievous twinkle in her eye, the very same look that had goaded him into making the bet in the first place. But as Olly rounded the bend, his face contorted from mirth to horror, Tilly's laughter faltered, dying in her throat.

"Give me my clothes!" Olly's plea cut across the distance, sharp and frantic, propelling Tilly to her feet. She snatched the bundle of fabric from the ground—the only shield Olly had left—and moved toward him. Her gaze followed his retreat and widened at the sight of three mothers, each maneuvering a pushchair along the path, their expressions ranging from shock to indignation.

"Wait, I—" Tilly stuttered, but before she could drape Olly in the sanctuary of his clothes, a fourth mother emerged like a specter from behind a thicket of holly bushes, her hand clamping down on both Tilly and Olly's ears with a vice-like grip.

"Ouch! Hey, let go!" Tilly cried out, her voice mingling with Olly's embarrassed yelps. They were hauled forward, two scolded children in the hands of the irate woman, while the other mothers converged, a formidable barricade of maternal fury.

"You should be ashamed, behaving like toddlers," one mother hissed, her eyes narrowed in reproach as she balanced a cooing infant on her hip.

"Absolutely childish," echoed another, her lips pursed tightly as if the words themselves were distasteful.

Incapacitated by embarrassment and the unyielding hold on their ears, Olly and Tilly could only whimper in response, their rebellious spark snuffed out by the unexpected censure.

"Seems only fitting you join him," the lead mother said, her tone flat and decisive as she eyed Tilly With a soft but firm tone, she began her inquiry,

"Do you understand the decorum expected of you?" Her question hung in the air, a palpable tension causing both children to shift uncomfortably and their cheeks to flush with a rosy hue of embarrassment.

She continued, "Can you comprehend how immature your actions appear?" The words were like arrows, piercing their pride and causing them to squirm under her gaze. Their blushing faces deepened into shades of crimson at the realization.

Her next question was almost comical in its directness. "Are you capable enough to clean up after yourselves?" The absurdity of it all stirred an awkward laughter between them, yet the blush on their faces refused to fade away.

Finally, she asked ominously, "Do you know what fate befalls misbehaving children?" The room fell silent as they waited for a response. A shiver ran down their spines as they gulped nervously.

The mothers watched silently from afar, anticipation building with each passing moment. They allowed the silence to linger before swooping in for the final blow - a public humiliation that would serve as a reminder for both children about proper behavior. The flush on their faces was now more than just embarrassment; it was the sting of shame and regret.

A collective nod rippled through the group, and suddenly, Tilly felt hands guiding her down beside Olly, who crouched on the ground, now desperately trying to cover himself with shaking hands. With an infantile insistence,

they pressed his thumb to his mouth, coercing a gesture so degrading it stripped away the remnants of his dignity His silhouette was hunched over, a small figure cradling himself in the frigid air. His thumb was lodged in his mouth, a childish comfort that seemed out of place amidst the winter chill.

He sucked on it quietly, eyes glazed with an innocence that contrasted sharply with the harsh surroundings.

His willy peeked out from underneath his tattered shorts, a tiny appendage shriveled by the cold. It looked almost comical in its minuscule state,

like a baby bird shivering outside its nest. The sight was pitifully innocent, yet none of the mothers passing by paid it any mind - their gazes were hardened by years of hardship and they had no room for sympathy for such trivial matters.

His bottom was nestled into the rough ground as he crouched down low. It appeared round and soft against the jagged stones beneath him - a stark reminder of his youthfulness amidst this unforgiving environment. The sight would have been endearing if it wasn't so heartbreaking - a young man reduced to such circumstances

Tilly's cheeks burned, tears welling up and spilling over as she watched the mothers lay out a baby picnic mat, adding their little ones to the tableau. A bitter taste flooded her mouth—shame, regret, disbelief—all swirled together The process of undressing was unceremoniously methodical,

an indifferent peeling away that left her feeling exposed and vulnerable. First came the removal of her skin-tight trousers, the once comforting fabric being slowly tugged down her slender legs. The denim clung to her thighs for a moment before finally releasing its grip, leaving behind a trail of goosebumps in its wake.

Next were her knickers, modest cotton ones she had chosen specifically for comfort rather than style. They followed the same path as her trousers, sliding down to pool around her ankles. Their absence made an unfamiliar chill creep up her spine, causing a blush that spread from the tips of her ears down to the base of her neck.

Her hands instinctively moved to cover herself, but they were quickly redirected by firm hands guiding them upwards. The cool air hit against her bare stomach as they hoisted up her T-shirt over her head. She was left laying there with only a bra protecting what little dignity she had left.

Finally, she found herself lying on the cold floor clad in nothing but the thin undergarment. Her arms instinctively crossed over it in a futile attempt at preserving some semblance of decency. But even this last vestige was soon taken away from her as maternal fingers reached behind and unclasped the hook of the bra with practiced ease.

Stripped bare now, she curled into herself trying to shield what remained of herself from prying eyes - not so much physically naked as emotionally so; stripped raw and laid bare for all to see – a spectacle fuelled by shame and vulnerability. Left to lie next to Olly, her vulnerability was complete, her body trembling with the cold and the raw exposure of their predicament

She observed the youthful appearance of her femininity, a result of her meticulous grooming habits. The act of shaving had left her vagina smooth and unblemished, reminiscent of innocence. Turning slightly, she caught sight of her bare bottom It was porcelain-white, untouched by the sun's kiss and appeared almost ethereal in its paleness. Her breasts, exposed to the chill in the room, responded instinctively; they tightened and hardened under the cool air's caress.

"Please," she whispered, the word barely audible as she lay there, bereft of everything but the stark truth of their folly. Naked and ashamed, Tilly closed her eyes, wishing fervently for the earth to swallow her whole.

3

Mortification seeped into every pore of Tilly and Olly's being as they lay beside gurgling infants, their own thumbs lodged awkwardly in their mouths. The chill of the grass beneath them was nothing compared to the icy humiliation that clung to their bare skin. Around them, mothers busied themselves with tubs of sudocream and puffs of baby powder, the scent mingling with the park's fresh air in a bizarre mockery of care.

"Stay put, Olly," the mother's voice danced in a soothing lullaby, her touch paradoxically tender yet unyielding as she worked the cream into his most intimate areas.

"Now lift your legs up for me, darling," she instructed, her tone playful yet stern. Olly complied, raising his legs high and exposing his bare bottom to the cool air of the room. The sensation made him squirm slightly; it was an odd mix of vulnerability and excitement.

"There we go," she cooed, spreading the Sudocream across his rear with a practiced hand. The cream was cold against his skin but warmed quickly under her touch. He could feel it seeping into every crevice and fold, creating a protective barrier against any discomfort.

"Now for your little soldier," she said with a chuckle that made Olly blush crimson. His willy twitched as if acknowledging its turn for attention. She took her time applying the cream there too, ensuring every inch was covered in the thick white substance.

Finally done with her task, she lowered Olly's legs back down gently and gave him an approving nod. "All done now."

His eyes flickered over to Lilly who had been watching silently from across the room. There was a soft flush on her cheeks.

A shiver coursed through Tilly as unfamiliar fingers traced the contours of her skin, talcum powder swirling around them like a snowstorm of embarrassment. Heat flooded her cheeks, a blush born from the absurdity of their predicament. They were no longer just two carefree adults who had foolishly gambled and lost; now they were oversized infants, thrown into this strange nursery play.

"Lift your legs," came the voice from above, its tone sterile and removed. It was a stark juxtaposition to the intimate scenario that was about to unfold.

Tilly's heart hammered within her ribcage as she obeyed, an overwhelming surge of mortification crashing over her as she raised her legs high. Her flower was now fully revealed, laid bare for this stranger's examination. She felt the chill air caress places it should not be touching.

A soft cloth soaked in warm water started its gentle journey across her body, beginning at her bottom and gradually ascending towards her flower. The touch was professional yet invasive; it sent tremors down her spine despite herself.

"Quit wriggling," chided the voice again, its owner clearly not amused by Tilly's discomfort.

Next came the Sudocream - that thick white paste so often associated with baby care. The sight of it spread across Tilly's most private regions was nothing less than horrifying. It clung to her like a shameful second skin, serving as a physical testament to their ridiculous situation.

The conversation carried on throughout this ordeal - sterile directions intermingled with embarrassing remarks about their situation. Each word only served to amplify their discomfort further - an unrelenting reminder that they were merely participants in this bizarre nursery tableau.

The mothers stepped back, admiring their handiwork before guiding Tilly and Olly to their feet. "Up we get," they chimed, as if coaxing toddlers to walk. Clutching onto the prams for support, the shamed pair shuffled forward, thumbs still pressed between their lips, their nudity a spectacle for any onlookers who dared to glance.

"Look at you two, taking your first steps again," a mother teased, her laughter carrying over the rustle of leaves. Occasional smacks landed on their exposed rears, eliciting jumps and muffled protests, each spank a sharp reminder of their stripped status.

Olly could feel the heat in his cheeks spread across his entire body as they continued the humiliating parade. Tilly's knees buckled, and she collapsed onto the grass, her plea for mercy barely audible over the thudding of Olly's heart. "Please, no more," she sobbed, the raw desperation in her voice cutting through the afternoon tranquility.

"Such a naughty girl," one mother scolded, tilting Tilly's chin up before delivering a series of firm spanks to her bottom. The sound echoed, blending with Tilly's cries and the coos directed at the actual babies.

Unable to look away, Olly's body betrayed him with a rush of unwanted arousal, a physical response so out of place it only deepened his shame. A sharp intake of breath from one of the mothers signaled they had noticed. With a tsk of disapproval, they turned their attention to him.

"Looks like someone needs to learn a lesson too," the lead mother said, nodding towards Olly.

Before he could muster any defense, he felt the sting of discipline on his own skin, and his world narrowed to the rhythm of punishment and the hot flush of embarrassment that seemed to engulf him whole.

#humiliation captions #discipline #diaper domination #embarrasment #humilliation #nappy lover

[wonderwomanfantasy]

my dearest

Oh to have an evil man give me a bath

Overhaul x reader

Warnings: nakedness?? depression, murder

word count: lil less than 1,000

Summary: Overhaul helps his beloved get ready in the morning

“Good morning Darling,” Kai purred smoothly, gently tugging the covers down. It was already noon, he couldn’t let you sleep any longer. You groaned and fought him, rolling over and putting the pillow over your head.

“Don’t hide from me love,” he sighed, pulling you into his lap. It would be easy to get someone else to do this, wake you up and force you into a bath, but Kai rather liked seeing you vulnerable like this. You crumpled in his arms relenting.

“Sorry, I meant to shower last night,” you mumbled. He lifted you in his arms, sweeping you out of your depression nest, he would have someone clean your room while he cleaned you.

“I don’t mind Love, I rather enjoy spending time with you like this,” he said. It wasn’t a lie either, Chisaki was a busy man, this was one of the rare moments that he got to relax with you, you were his beloved after all. You yawned.

“How late did you stay up this morning?” he asked, kicking the bathroom door open and breezed into the room.

“Early,” you said, he lifted an eyebrow. “2 ish” you admitted, knowing that wasn’t what he considered early. Kai just shook his head, playfully. You were lucky he loved you.

He helped you out of your clothes, then took his own off, neatly folding the dirty clothes in the corner of the room before coming back. Both of you sat in shower stools on the tiled floor. He was gentle as he washed you. Running his hands over your body gently, lathering the soap in his hands before applying it to your arms and chest.

Chisaki supposed that there was something sensual about washing you, but he didn’t find himself aroused in any way. He didn’t really need to wash himself, he’d already had a shower this morning, but he did it anyway, he knew you would feel guilty if this was purely for your sake.

Kai smiled to himself, letting his normal stone-faced mask slip a little bit behind your back. He couldn’t help but marvel at how much he loved you. There was no doubt in his mind, he’d move heaven and earth for you, kill for you without hesitation, but you would never ask him for that. You hated the attention he doted on you, but he couldn’t help himself, you were his world.

“There, all clean,” he said.

“What else do we have planned for today?” you asked innocently.

“A bath,” he said, mentally cringing away from what his real plans were, “maybe go out shopping if you’re feeling up to it,” he said. A much smaller gang had started pushing their luck, slowly encroaching on his territory. Today, they would die. But you didn’t have to know about that, it always seemed to bother you when he talked about work. So he didn’t

“That sounds nice,” you said, but he could tell you would rather just stay home. But he wouldn’t let you, this was all part of getting better, it was difficult to find a balance between lighting a fire in you, and understanding how difficult this all was for you.

Kai helped you into the warm bath, both of you relaxing in comfortable silence. Just enjoying the steaming water and each other's company.

Kai leaned his head back on the rim of the tub, closing his eyes and letting his muscles relax. He could feel your eyes on him.

“You’re staring,” he accused, not opening his eyes. He heard the water slosh as you shifted uncomfortably.

“I don’t get to see you without your mask often,” you defended. He couldn’t help but smirk

“You get to see it off more than anyone else,” he teased. Which was true. He didn’t trust the world enough to let his mask slip, but he had quickly discovered when the two of you had first become intimate, he was willing to risk germ contact if it meant he could kiss you.

“I like seeing your face,” you murmured, seemingly to yourself.

“I’d hope that you liked my face, I am your lover after all.” he didn’t have to look to know you were flustered. You always were when he used the L-word. It was the only word that felt right for him, he was more than your boyfriend, you were his soulmate, his one and only, Lover was the only word strong enough for him.

“You only take it off when you want to get me in bed,” you scoffed. He could feel his grin widen. He tilted his head up and opened his eyes taking in your expression.

“Is that an invitation?” he teased.

“No-” you snapped almost making him laugh.

“How dirty beloved, propositioning me in a bathroom-”

“Kai-”

“Not something I’d usually consider but if my darling wants to I guess I shall-” you splashed him in water making him laugh. It was good to see you energetic again, it scared him when you were in the worst of your depression unable to eat or speak. But he didn’t worry about that now, he would enjoy this bath, this day, enjoy you.

#overhaul x reader #my hero x reader #overhaul imagine #lov x reader

[darling-i-read-it]

Wash Up

Geralt of Rivia x reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: nakedness, wounds, men at bars, cuteness

Author’s Note: I just finished this show and i just am in love with this man thats that you know what i mean. I really liked this fic too so I hope you guys do as well! 

Summary: Geralt returns from a few days away from you 

Genre: fluff

Song: rivers and roads by the head and the heart 

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director 

(not my gif)

The town scuffled around you. It seemed that the world moved around at a high pace. Your world moved so quickly. As quick as the strangers around you, spilling and knocking over drinks while laughing with friends. Jaskier sat beside you at the corner of the bar. He had out his loot, mulling over the next song that he wanted to write. 

You had a pint of ale in your hands as you watched and waited.

“Is advantageous to pretentious?” Jaskier asked. You turned to him and raised an eyebrow, shrugging.

“I think that it works. How are you going to use it?” He showed you the piece of parchment where there were scribbled lyrics and notes. You looked it over and nodded idly. “Not too pretentious.” 

“Geralt will think it’s too pretentious,” he pointed out, hesitating to put down the word amongst the others. You shook your head and turned to him, away from the town gathered around you. 

“Don’t actually listen to anything Geralt says. He, himself, is too pretentious,” you promised. Jaskier shook his head.

“Easy for you to say. I don’t think he’s spoken an ill word of you ever.” You rolled your eyes and took a small drink of your ale. 

“We’ve had our fair share of fights.” 

“And they usually end with me not getting a good nights sleep. I wish you would warn me next time so that I could get a room far away from both of you,” he muttered. You chuckled lowly.

“Sounds like you need another drink to get those creative juices flowing, huh Jaskier?” You stood up and ruffled his hair. He swatted your hand away but he was smiling. You and Jaskier had grown close. You didn’t act like you hated him like Geralt tended to do. You were a nice balance between the two of them, such happiness matched by such bitterness. You had known Geralt much longer than Jaskier but he seemed to add some laughs to the relationship. 

You walked over to the bar and put down your empty cup. 

“Two more please.” 

“On me.” You turned over to the man who had just approached. It was not Geralt which surprised you. Geralt had been away for a couple of days. You had been itching for him to return. He left you to watch Jaskier which you thought was stupid. He liked to tag along and you were useful in a fight. Geralt was picky much too often.

“Thank you but I’ve got it,” you told the stranger. He shook his head. 

“Two for a girl like yourself?” he questioned. You shook your head.

“The second one if for my friend over there,” you said, pointing over to Jaskier. He was messing with the strings and singing quietly so that only he could hear.

“What kind of woman are you to be stuck with a bard like that?” You scoffed.

“I don’t think that’s any of your business sir,” you promised. The bartender gave you the two drinks and you gave him a nod goodbye. You got barely three steps away before he grabbed your arm, spilling the drink all over you. You let out a small gasp, looking down at the dress he had ruined. You were lucky you had left your armor in the room. 

The people closest to you turned to look., Jaskier looked up and stood when he saw you were in distress. He crumpled up his paper and put it in his pocket as he walked over. 

Geralt got there first.

You raised an eyebrow and your mouth opened in surprise as you saw him. He put himself between you and the man who had troubled you with his advances. He was covered in the guts of some monster, from head to toe. Jaskier got to you and you handed him the full cup. 

“For you,” you said, smiling. 

“You didn’t have to-”

“I wanted to.” Jaskier nodded, giving you a happy grin. Geralt however, was not done with the man.

“She told you it was none of your business and then you ruin her dress. I suppose you have the money to pay for it,” he said stiffly. The man realized who Geralt was and put his hands up in surrender.

“I didn’t realize she was a witcher's property,” he said. “My apologies.”

“I’m no one’s property. Now the money for my dress,” you said, pushing past Geralt. Geralt let you move past him. You stood your guard against the man. 

“I have no money to spare for a rag you may wear once.” You nodded, slowly, stiffly. You turned to Jaskier who was slowly sipping his drink.

“I’m sorry dear,” you said softly. He handed you the drink before you had to ask. You turned back around and sprayed it in the man's face. It dripped off his beard and onto his clothes that looked nothing more than the rags he spoke of. He reached for his dagger but Geralt stepped in front of you once more. 

“Call it even,” he said. The man looked at the sword draped across his back and how he was covered in the guts of a monster that was likely much harder to kill than the stranger would ever be. The man nodded, letting out a sigh. You turned to the bar and raised a finger.

“On the house,” the bartender said, shaking a bit at the sight of Geralt. You took it with a kind smile and handed it to Jaskier. 

“Voila,” you said with a smile. “The drink has returned.” He laughed and shook his head. Geralt grabbed your arm gently and you nodded. “Keep ‘advantageous’.” Jaskier nodded as you walked out of the bar. He had always been so fond of you. A kind soul that was locked in life with a witcher. It made for good songs.

You and Geralt walked out of the bar and then wordlessly up to the place that you were staying. You were drenched in ale and he was drenched in guts but you did not speak. You reached the room and he disappeared wordlessly into the small closet. You walked into the bathroom and started to draw a hot bath. It took a few minutes but Geralt returned to you, a change of clothes for the both of you. He put them down on the counter and walked over to where you sat, beside the bath, your fingers just barely touching the water as you tested its temperature. 

At the sight of you, peaceful, Geralt eased. It had been a hard monster to kill, harder than most. He had wondered if his travel home was going to be delayed or not but he made it just as night fell. You put your head against the side of the bath and he started to undress. 

You had seen each other naked countless times before. There was no sense of awkwardness anymore to it. He gestured for you to take his hand and you did so, standing up. He turned you around gently and slid the dress off of your shoulders. It fell very carefully onto the floor. He did his best not to touch your body with his guts covered hands. You took off the rest of your undergarments and by the time you were finished with that, Geralt was in the bath. 

You sat behind him, grabbing a sponge and ringing it out. You started to wash the guts off him slowly. He eased into your touch, relaxing. 

“What happened while I was gone?” he asked gruffly. You shrugged.

“Nothing eventful. I would have liked to go with you.”

“Well then who would have washed me up.” As the grime started to ease away you noticed a new scratch on his back. You brushed your finger over it lightly. 

“I would have avoided this growing scar,” you whispered. You kissed it gently, lips lingering on his skin. He took your hand off of his shoulder where it lay. He brought it to his lips and held it there, closing his eyes as he kissed your palm. 

The door to the room opened. Geralt's eyes opened quickly and he turned to see who was disrupting his peace. 

“Y/N?!” Jaskier yelled. You chuckled lowly and sank further into the water, ringing out the sponge. 

“Busy!” you yelled back. You heard his walking stop. 

“I thought I told you to warn me!” he pouted. You placed your head against Geralt's back and smiled lightly.

“Go away Jaskier!” Geralt yelled gruffly. You hit him gently.

“We’ll be out before you go to bed!” you called. He seemed to be okay with that.

“Fine! Be quieter!” he yelled and the door shut again.

“Why make promises you can’t keep?” Geralt asked you, voice back to a softer tone. You put down the sponge and he turned his head to the side to look at you.

“I’d rather he leave us thinking we will be back soon.” 

“You’re too nice to him.”

“Kindness is free you know.” You grabbed his hand and placed your head on his shoulder. You moved down and kissed his skin. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.” 

He turned his head and kissed the side of your head.

“We aren’t going to be back before Jaskier goes to sleep are we.” 

“Not a chance.”

#geralt of rivia x reader #geralt of rivia imagines #geralt x reader #geralt imagines #the witcher imagines

[auroracalisto]

lotus flower

summary: escaping an abusive relationship was difficult.  rushing to a camp in the middle of nowhere to escape your husband shouldn’t have been as terrifying as it turned out to be.

pairing: xavier plympton x reader x chet clancy, reader x abusive husband named roger

word count: 1.5k words

warnings: abuse, physical abuse and mental abuse, mentions of abuse and physical depictions of what happened, ahs 1984, canon typical situations 

a/n: idk if i’ll actually continue this bc idk if it will do well.  however, i wanted to see the response i would get and i really liked writing this in general soooo.  also, for the title, just look up the meaning of a lotus flower :) you’ll understand if you don’t already.  

You were running.  From him.  From your past.  From the nakedness that now adorned your ring finger.  And that’s how you ended up at Camp Redwood, as a counselor.  It was a job, far away from Roger.  As much as you had wished you could have stayed and not uproot your entire life, you knew that staying there was dangerous.

The fading bruises on your stomach were proof of that.

You had heard about the position through the newspaper—the only survivor of the 70′s massacre wanted to open it up to try and create some good memories there.

Miles away and deep in the forest was your best bet of avoiding your abusive husband.

So you called and inquired about the job—you weren’t even interviewed hardly.  The woman asked your name and said you were accepted.  All you had to do was show up the day before the kids were supposed to be there.  It would be you and a couple other counselors, but there weren’t that many kids—you wouldn’t be bombarded by everything.

You had hardly been out of your car for five minutes when Margaret led you over to Bertie.

“While we wait for the others to arrive, maybe you can help Bertie,” she said, giving you a smile.  “I’ll be back.”

She didn’t wait long before she rushed off, leaving you alone with the chef.  You gave her an awkward smile.

“Hi...”

“Hi, sweetheart,” she said, balancing her cigarette between her teeth as she talked.  “Here,” she moved to grab a crate full of bread.  “Take this inside for me?”

You immediately did as you were asked, taking the crate as soon as she handed it to you.  She took notice of your shakiness, but she didn’t comment on it, much like she didn’t comment on the multiple scars you had lining your bare arms.

Bertie took in a couple more things with you, only taking a break to light another cigarette.

"And this is Chef Bertie," Margaret said, walking up alongside of quite a few other people. You stood by her truck, looking at the people as they all came around. "A Camp Redwood veteran."

"Dibs," a man with blonde hair and a blue shirt quickly spoke. He smiled over at his friends, clearly joking.

"You wouldn't know what to do with it if you got it, handsome," Bertie spoke, smirking over at the man.

You couldn't help but laugh at Bertie, quickly placing a hand over your mouth.

"And who are you?" the blonde quickly asked, raising an eyebrow.

You averted your gaze.

"She's another counselor. She got here earlier in the day. [Your name]'s car was the one you parked beside of," Margaret said.

"Oh, so the one Xavier here almost hit with his door?" a blonde girl grinned, crossed her arms over her chest.

Xavier's eyes widened and he looked back at her. "I did not!"

Bertie rolled her eyes, holding up a crate of eggs. "Put those scrawny arms to work and help a lady fill her pantry. All of you, grab a crate. This heat is a killer," she spoke, sighing softly as she removed her cigarette. "You don't have to carry anymore, [Your name]—"

"—I can," you smiled over at the woman. You moved to take a crate which looked as though it had been filled with bottles of spices, sugars, and flour.

The man beside of Xavier had taken the crate of eggs.

A guy with brown hair came up beside of you, his arm brushing against yours as he grabbed a crate himself. He blushed but couldn't help himself from smiling at you.

"Sorry," he said.

You gave a hesitant smile, moving to walk back into the dining hall when Margaret began to speak again.

"Chef Bertie here worked here when I was a counselor. We are so blessed to have her with us."

Bertie continued to talk while everyone else carried in crates. You stayed inside, putting things where they needed to go—it wasn't that hard to figure out things. Of course, you avoided putting up things like spices. You didn't know if she liked them organized a certain way. As you walked back out, you couldn't help but overhear Bertie.

"I'm sorry that one bad apple ruined it for everyone. Minute I heard Margaret was reopening this place," she said, waving her hand, "I was the first to volunteer."

Margaret looked at everyone and breathed through her nose. "Alright. Let's continue with our tour. [Your name], come along with us. You haven't seen everything yet."

You gave a small nod and hesitantly followed along, looking at the group of people. They all seemed pretty friendly with each other.

The lot of you walked along towards the showers. Margaret was set on showing you all everything.

"Girls shower in the AM, boys in the PM. Same goes for counselors, too."

Eventually, your walk lead you to the cabins.

Margaret eventually left you all alone, and you stayed in the girls cabin.  The boys ended up sticking around, talking with the girls that they clearly knew.  You sat on your claimed bed, looking through your suitcase.  You purse your lips, half-listening to their conversation, half-not even paying attention to what you were looking for.  

“Hey,” the same boy who bumped into you earlier spoke.  “[Your name], right?”

You looked up, seeing him standing right in front of you.  Your eyes widened but you nodded.  

“Uh, yeah.”

“I’m Chet,” he grinned.  “Mind if I?” he pointed to the spot beside of you.  

You nodded in response.  Chet sat down beside of you on your bed, handing you an unopened can of beer.  

“Uh, no thank you,” you said, shaking your head.  “I’ve... seen enough alcohol to last me a lifetime.”

“Seen—“ he stopped himself, nodding slightly as he watched you.  “Alright.  Well, why don’t you come join us?  I promise, we don’t bite,” he chuckled softly.  “We’re gonna turn on the TV.  Don’t be a loner,” he said.  “We’ll be here all summer anyway.  Might as well get to know each other now.”

You nodded, knowing he was right.  “Uh, okay,” you said, nervously biting the inside of your cheek.  

Chet continued to smile in your direction.  He stood up, holding his hand out to you.  “Come on,” he said.  

A feeling in your gut was screaming at you to just stay put.  But you reached out to take his hand, knowing that for the first time in several years, you could do so without someone waiting to ridicule you for it.  

Chet smiled even more once you took his hand and he lead you over to the couch.  

Everyone introduced themselves to you, making sure they knew your name correctly as well.  

The flirtatious blonde looked over at you, his eyes set in a glare.  

“You better not think about stealing Bertie from me.”

Your eyes widened and you felt your cheeks burn.  “I would never—”

“Mhm,” Xavier rolled his eyes.  “I saw how you looked at her.  If I were her, I would have looked at you the same way.”

“Wow, Xavier,” scoffed Ray.  “Give it a rest, will you?”

“What?” Xavier laughed, keeping his eyes on you.  “I mean it, though.  You’re like super fucking hot,” he said.

You averted your gaze, guilt swelling in your chest.  This was wrong.  You were married.  To a piece of shit asshole, after all.  Your marriage to him didn’t matter.  Especially now that you were so far away.  You didn’t have to feel guilty.  You didn’t have to feel like you were going to get in trouble.  No one here knew of your past, and they would never know as long as you never said anything.  

After a moment of thinking of what to say, you looked back up at Xavier with a smile.  

“You’re not too bad, yourself,” you said.  

Xavier let out a triumphant laugh, grinning.  “Sweet,” he breathed out, looking you up and down.  Montana slapped his arm and he leaned back where he sat, rolling his eyes at her.  “Can you not hit me again?  Please?  That kind of hurt.”

Chet cleared his throat as he looked at you.  You quickly turned to face him, hoping that he didn’t think it was wrong of you to say so.

“He’s definitely not lying,” Chet spoke.  “You’re super fucking pretty.  I, uh, don’t want you to settle on him just yet,” he grinned, leaning against his hand as his elbow rested against the couch.  

You couldn’t help from your own laugh escaping you.  “Don’t worry, Chet.  He’s not the only cute guy here,” you said, locking eyes with his.  You noticed his blush right off the bat, but you didn’t say anything about it.  

You were glad you were here.  This was good.  It would be good.  It had to be good.  But what you didn’t know was that your hopeful thoughts were far too good to be true.  

#xavier plympton #chet clancy #chet clancy x reader #xavier plympton x reader #chet x reader x xavier #xavier x reader x chet #ahs #ahs 1984 #american horror story #american horror story x reader #american horror story 1984 #xavier #chet #xavier x chet #reader insert #x reader #multi-part?

[aaluminiumas]

金継ぎ

The lurid moonlight crept into the room through the slit in the thick drapes, illuminating the curvaceous forms of the woman sprawling on the bed. Breathing heavily, with her cheeks flushing and eyelashes fluttering, she was thoughtlessly staring at the ceiling and seizing the sheets with her porcelain fingers.

Even now, she seemed distant and foreign, as if she struggled to maintain the subordination she’d once disrupted: the abyss between them did not magically disappear. Despite the intimacy, she still refused to open up and divulge what she was mulling over. Mistrust, probably, had nothing to do with it: being on the lam for most of her life, avoiding the unfair justice prosecuted by the World Government, she learned what circumspection truly meant. At least, he wanted to believe so.

Gazing at the solid, vigorous figure, Crocodile suddenly realized that he couldn’t take off his eyes of her. Her visage, still slightly angular, no longer tired, remained impassive, but in the depth of her crystal clear sapphire eyes, he could discern the peace and tranquility he had never seen. Significantly paler than he recalled, the woman seemed far more integral, vibrant and robust, as if oceanic waves washed away the sticky tan of Alabasta all along with apathy and lassitude. It might be the only grave change he’d discovered: apart from it, he observed the sober and reserved Nico Robin he knew.

Unabashed by her nakedness and his gaze, she gradually recovered. The raven strands, glued to the high forehead and temples, outlined her face against the murk: her features, backlit by the eerie scintillation, likened her to an apparition, to a supernatural being from the underworld; she resembled a bad omen who boded devastation and derailment, but the heaving chest, the steadying breathing and the warmth of her body convinced the man that he saw a living a woman, not a translucent, elusive phantom that was to vanish into thin air at dawn.

Crocodile’s listless orbs glided across her neck, once adorned with the necklace he gave her. A few inches lower, outlined by the Moon, the collarbones jutted as if carved out in marble. A bead of sweat rolled across the heaving chest, but Robin made no attempt to enshroud her body or crawl away from his gaze – unlike other women he’d encountered, this one felt no embarrassment and didn’t hurry to get wrapped into a blanket. Albeit the tension hadn’t left her just yet, he observed that she was slowly relaxing: her breath returned to a regular pattern, and the optics, focused on an undisclosed point in space, blinked. The locks still stuck to her forehead and streamed across her shoulders – Crocodile suddenly wondered how much time had passed since they first met and decided to spend the night like this. They hesitated to break the silence that day, and now, paralyzed by pleasant torpor and the reminiscences taking hold, Robin, obviously, seesawed again. So did he: since Alabasta, he developed fierce abhorrence towards mirages of all sorts, and he didn’t want this woman to be another quaint hallucination.

The taciturnity ensued for several long minutes. Both were listening to the interminable ticking of the old clock. As before, neither of them insisted on endless, unceasing conversations that would eventually lead nowhere. The woman, stepping into the room, immediately blended into the surroundings. Whenever she went, she brought impregnable equanimity and solid confidence – which now he lacked. She became irreplaceable at Baroque Works – and could become irreplaceable again. Crocodile had never sought her company, but he nonetheless chased an intelligent, devious opponent, who masterfully avoided his booby traps and double-crossed him, finagling the information. Robin, on her part, never pursued danger but constantly faced it with all the audacity and courage she possessed; balancing on the verge of a volcano, she tried to push the rival into the abyss as deftly as she could. However, neither won by a landslide: they were always hard on each other’s heels.

All of a sudden, Robin sat up, and the moonlight defined the gracious contours: the shoulders draped by the pitch-black hair, the smooth lines of the arms, rounds thighs – she could’ve made a great statue, Crocodile thought. This woman morphed into the history she worshipped: she consisted of poise, elegance, and mystery; no one seemed capable enough to pry into her head – only true connoisseurs could understand how invaluable she, in fact, was. She resembled a precious, pristine figurine, smashed by a careless swat of a hand and then revived by an ingenious craftsman, mending the snaking crevices and cracks by gold. In the days of Baroque Works, he compared her to a gem that happened to get to him by a fluke, but now, a more mature idea came to his mind: the wild, primordially violent Ms. All Sunday would rather be an embodiment of ancient beliefs, than a luxurious item. Crocodile was acquainted with her sangfroid, with her cold-blooded, murderous side, with her Amazonian belligerence, but all those qualities were safely disguised by the mask of refined taste and outstanding resourcefulness. The years she spent on board with the Strawhats affected her peculiarly, too: she hadn’t lost any of her innate traits, but she learned to live without atrocity and manipulation. Seeing her now, he couldn’t quite realize that she was indeed the one who signed multiple death warrants to the people of Alabasta – with ease and inherent tact.

“I have to go.”

Her voice sounded coarse as if she were afraid to break the stalling peace, gleaming as motes of dust soaring in the moonbeam. Despite her evident urge to leave, Robin remained still.

“I do not detain you.”

The woman subtly nodded as if confirming her own thoughts. She sighed deeply and brushed her fingers through her hair.

Crocodile, narrowing the faded eyes, scowled: underneath the locks, he’d spotted enormous round bruises encircled in yellow halos.

“Wait.”

He propped himself up on the bed; his calloused digits that had long lost the ability to sense, softly reached for the transfixed silhouette with the defined line of the spine and pulled the strands aside. Robin folded her hands in the lap and straightened up, nervous, feeling the rough fingertips on her skin: Crocodile, with uncharacteristic but sheer curiosity, scrutinized the scars left by the barely healed wounds. Hairline moonlight rivulets inundated the neatly sutured incisions. The pirate’s hand slid from one blemish to another, lingering on the ragged edges, outlining each mark. She grew tensed again but didn’t move away as if showing that she could be a relatively obedient servant. Despite the evident agitation, she didn’t twitch a muscle – the composure she’d been training for years did not betray her.

“Does it hurt?” he asked quietly.

“No. Not at all.”

Crocodile never doubted her bravery, strength, or stamina, but the grisly sight he just observed outmatched nearly everything he himself had faced in the past. Nico Robin had got through hell once more and probably gave no sound. Her doctor’s remedy worked wonders, but even the magic formulae couldn’t completely erase the ugly, round marks replete with the moonlight.

“Where..?”

“Dressrosa.”

“How..?”

Robin did not reply and silently reached for the clothes hanging on the chair.

“Sorry for that.”

Even now, she did not react. Still illuminated by the ominous, omnipresent moonlight contorting her features and movements, she began to put on her clothes. Crocodile realized that he admired her, her feline grace, her alacrity to pounce. Robin never bustled around, never felt ashamed; she didn’t hurry to hide away from him right after the gossamer of passion that besotted them dissipated – stark-naked and languorous as a marble statue, she looked simply natural.

“Robin?”

“Yes?”

“Did you deceive them to come here?”

“No. I was brutally honest, but … they didn’t believe me.”

“I wouldn’t believe it myself.”

“As a sober-minded man?”

“As a man who never gets smitten with women.”

Robin bestowed a meek smile on him, pulling a peachy-colored blouse over her shoulders. Crocodile furrowed his thin eyebrows.

“What’s so funny about that?”

“Nothing. I just think that you might exaggerate a little.”

“And I just think that you were about to leave,” he groused, groping the nightstand for a cigar.

“And you would like me to stay. Isn’t that so?”

An arm grew out of the nightstand and grabbed the cheroot. The woman, with her blouse unbuttoned, sat down on the edge of the bed, examining Crocodile with an intent gaze of the azure eyes. He shifted closer, raised his head arrogantly, and placed his hand onto her neck, slightly squeezing the fingers. The moonlight reflected in the gems of his rings and recoiled into the wall.

“I could strangle you at any given moment,” he hissed, grinning lopsidedly, staring into her indigo-blue eyes.

“But you haven’t yet,” Robin responded calmly, placing her smooth hand over the wrist of the man seizing her neck. The warm fingers glissaded across his rough skin, lingered on a ring, and tenderly relinquished the hold. “Maybe next time..?”

The hand with the cigar tapped at his bare shoulder. Crocodile was about to say something but noticed that the fingers dispersed in a galvanic gust of pink petals – when he turned around, all he could see was a dark cloak sliding out of the room.

#sir crocodile x nico robin #sir crocodile #nico robin #crocodile x robin #robin #crocodile #one piece #op #fanfic #fanfiction

[prurientpuddlejumper]

Don’t Look! [Part 5][18+]

<- Part 4 | Part 6 ->

Frederick Chilton x Reader

NSFW. Some fluff & cuddling & a smidge of reader-on-top (human) smut. If you haven’t been following along, this is an AU @we-are-all-just-a-bit-crazy thought up in which Chilton transforms into a lovecraftian horror. 

1,042 words

“You are still here,” Frederick murmured. When his eyes opened to the pale morning light slanting in through the cracked panic room door, he was surprised to find you had stayed the entire night.

“Hey,” you smiled softly.

His face burned—he was naked except for a few torn scraps of shirt that survived the transformation, pressed against you in a pile of shredded blankets. The temptation was strong to reach out and stroke your jaw. It did not seem entirely inappropriate considering the intimate circumstances.

But what were you to him? A supportive friend and confidante who happened to share his secret? A dedicated employee? Or something more?

“Why… are you still here?” he gave voice to his confusion.

Your brow furrowed. “Do you not want me to be?”

“Yes. No! That is—I need to know your… intentions.”

Exhaling, your eyes brightened again as they studied his. Your palm was warm on the side of his face as you reached out to trace it—he flinched when your skin made contact, and you paused, waiting to see if he would ask you to stop, but then his eyes closed, and he pushed his cheek into your hand. 

A scratching of stubble along his jaw softened his appearance. Nothing was quite manicured or hemmed in right now. A private Chilton.

“You must already have some idea,” you said, brushing back a stray brown hair that had fallen onto his forehead. “About my intentions.”

“Tell me anyway.”

You stroked his brow: smooth, if lightly creased with age lines, but soft and human. Your lips were so close to his. “I care about you. A lot.”

“Is that all?” he probed. Where this confidence was coming from, he was not sure, but he wanted more than just caring. Caring could mean anything. One could care for a stray cat.

He shifted closer, all too aware of his nakedness under the thin sheets, and the way your breath moved in time with his. Your care was more than he deserved, but he was greedy. If there was more that you were too shy to say, he would get it out of you.

“Well, I…”

“Yes?”

“Oh, Frederick, I love you.” The moment the words sighed through them, your lips hid shyly against his, and he was eagerly willing to give them shelter. His arm wrapped behind you and settled on your shoulder as you kissed him, soft and chaste. Neither of you had the courage to deepen it further, but you let out a hum of satisfaction as your mouths glided lightly over one another, neither of you willing to break contact, either.

A wave of warmth washed over him—a nearly audible pulse that coursed through his every vein. A sparkling colorful sensation unlike anything he had felt before in his long, miserable life sizzled through every cell in his body, as if it were changing him at a molecular level. Only one explanation existed for what he was feeling at this moment.

True love’s first kiss.

If monsters such as him were real, then why not fairy tales? Why not happy endings? Since childhood, he had dreamed of it, but never thought it was possible.

With your confession of love, he knew the curse was broken.

***

Before Frederick could be a good host and make breakfast—before he could even manage to get clothes on, you were peeling yours off, unable to ignore the nudging of his pink erection against your thigh any longer. You had seen him naked once before, but there had been too much panic and too many questions between you that morning. This time, he was just a lonely man with his secrets laid bare and lust for you in his eyes, and you couldn’t resist the temptation.

“Do you want to?” you asked breathlessly as you threw a leg over his lap, “Is this OK?”

You didn’t want to misread the way his eyes devoured your form, lingering on points of interest. This was a lot to happen quickly—transforming in front of you, spending the night, the kiss—and he could be overwhelmed.

But the nod he gave was unequivocal, as was the emphatic way he pulled your hips down. A strangled, cathartic, desperate groan came from deep in his throat as your warm tightness split around his head, and it grew even more deliciously helpless as you sank down his shaft, squeezing the length of him until you were seated on his thighs.

You threw your head back as you rode his cock. His hands gripped your hips, setting the speed at which you gasped his name over and over. Your hands splayed over the hair on his chest, partly for balance and mainly because you wanted to feel it. Soft. So different from the hard scales, but just as warm.

Rolling your hips, you savored every stretch and sensation of him moving inside you, every low moan drawn from his throat. Eventually, he stopped guiding you, lying back and letting you fuck him however you desired. His fingers uncurled from your hips and traveled up the sides of your body with reverent care. Awe reflected in his eyes as he watched you, like you were an ethereal being—an angel gracing him in the darkness.

Heat eddied and pooled in your lower body with every stroke as you bounced on his cock. He was so perfect, you thought. So fragile in the way he looked at you. All you did to earn his admiration was offer basic kindness, and it broke your heart that that was enough. You just wanted to protect him, make him feel beautiful and loved.

As your stomach tightened and your eyes rolled back with the peak of your arousal breaking over you, you used your shaking, panting gasps to praise, “That’s good, Frederick. That feels so good—just like that.”

Crying out, his hips bucked involuntarily up into you through your convulsing, constricting walls. And as he claimed you with his seed, he felt it again deep in his soul: you were saving him. Your light would banish the evil that resided within.

If you loved him, he would never have to worry about becoming a monster again.

• ● • ━━━━━─ ••●•• ─━━━━━ • ● •

Tags:

@beccabarba / @itsjustmyfantasyroom / @thatesqcrush / @dianilaws / @permanentlydizzy / @mrsrafaelbarba / @madamsnape921 / @astrangegirlsmind / @neely1177 / @onerestein / @dreamlover31 / @isvvc-pvscvl  / @shroomiehomie / @storiesofsvu / @welcometothemxdhouse / @feedthemadness-sweetie / @law-nerd105 / @amelia-song-pond / @michael-rooker / @xecq / @madpanda75 / @alwaysachorusgirl / @bananas-pajamas / @leanor-min / @mad-girl-without-a-box / @katierpblogg / @worldofvixen / @quixoticcat​

#Frederick Chilton x reader #lovecraftian au #my writing

[all-hail-the-witcher]

undying love

because @officerjennie called the vet yesterday

__

ship: geralt/jaskier/eskel, modern

warnings: not sexy nakedness, not sexual belly rubs, baths, vomit/vomiting (not incredibly descriptive), brief negative self talk, brief negative body image, soft/fat eskel, trans eskel, nb geralt

words: 3.1k

editing: yes

genre: somft comfort

__

Eskel tumbled through the door of the apartment, a hand pressed to his large stomach and his eyes squeezed shut. It was plain dumb luck that he didn't trip over Geralt’s shoes. For such an organized person, Eskel could never understand why they couldn't put them away.

Eskel always put his shoes away, in their appropriate bin, but today the thought of bending over made him sway on his feet and he leaned heavily against the door frame for support, gasping for breath. He didn't have the energy to call out. Hopefully one of his partners would hear his labored breathing and come to his rescue.

“Geralt? Did you- oh Eskel, darling, what is it? What’s happened?”

Jaskier’s hands were on him almost immediately, feeling his forehead stroking his back. Eskel leaned into the touch, happy for the brief bit of relief from the intense pain in his stomach.

“Sick,” he managed to mutter. “I gathered that, darling,” Jaskier whispered fondly. “Tell me what hurts.”

“Stomach,” Eskel whimpered as another wave of discomfort hit, this time causing bile to rise in his throat. “Think I ate something bad.”

“Alright darling,” Jaskier soothed, never stopping rubbing Eskel’s back. “Let’s move you to the bathroom then, in case you get sick. Can you manage that?”

Eskel hesitated. He had barely been able to make it up to their apartment. He didn’t know how much further his shaky legs could carry him. And there was no way that Jaskier would be able to carry him.

“Okay, that’s alright,” Jaskier said, taking Eskel’s silence as he didn't want to move. “We can wait here for Geralt to come back from the store and then they can help you to the bathroom, they should be back any moment now.”

Eskel nodded, pressing his hand further into his stomach as he swallowed hard. “Jask…”

“Okay, okay,” Jaskier said, kissing his sweaty forehead. “I’m just going to grab you a bag, wait right there for me, darling.”

But as soon as Jaskier left, Eskel unraveled. It was as if Jaskier’s had been the only thing holding him together.

At least he had had the presence of mind to not get sick all over their shoes.

“Eskel, darling, it’s okay,” Jaskier said, his voice coming closer to him. He put his arm around Eskel again, resuming rubbing gentle circles into his back.

“I’m- I’m sorry,” Eskel choked out, shuddering when his stomach cramped tightly.

“It’s alright,” Jaskier reassured him. “Do you think you’re going to be sick again?”

Eskel took a deep breath and waited a moment before shaking his head. Despite the pain still in his stomach, he felt loads better and could actually bear to open his eyes.

“There you are, darling,” Jaskier muttered, offering Eskel a smile and wiping at his mouth and chin gently with a damp paper towel. “Could you have a sip of water for me?” He held out a glass.

“Yeah.” His voice grated against his throat as he reached for the glass. Jaskier kept a steadying hand on it as he brought it to his lips, taking slow sips.

And that was how Geralt found them, their arms laden with groceries as they walked into the apartment and took in the scene quite literally at their feet: Eskel, covered in his own sick, standing shakily with Jaskier’s arm wrapped around his back as he carefully downed a glass of water.

Eskel could feel the moment Geralt switched into paramedic mode. They set down the groceries a safe distance from the pool of sick on the floor and walked over to Eskel and Jaskier, calmly placing their hand on Eskel’s forehead, just as Jaskier had done.

“I’m fine,” Eskel mumbled unencouragingly as he held his stomach tighter. “Think I just ate something bad.”

“Hmm,” Geralt removed their hand from his forehead and placed two fingers on the pulse point in Eskel’s neck, looking at their watch. When they finished they nodded in satisfaction and turned to look at Jaskier, raising an eyebrow.

“He came in and was very shaky and holding his stomach,” Jaskier said, tightening his hold on Eskel slightly as if to say: Everything’s going to be fine, Geralt’s just doing their job. Eskel knew this, but the reassurance still helped. He got panicky sometimes when Geralt went into paramedic mode.

“No fever?” Geralt asked, moving to look into Eskel’s eyes.

“No,” Jaskier confirmed. “I stood with him for a moment and then he threw up once, about five minutes ago, and then I got him some water.”

Geralt nodded in approval, but frowned when they saw Eskel’s arm still clutching at his stomach. “Do you still feel sick?”

“No,” Eskel said, repeating what he had told Jaskier. “I feel better, actually. My stomach just really hurts.”

“Hmm.” They knelt down, not minding the sick still on the floor and gently pulled Eskel’s arm away from his stomach before placing their own hands there gently. The largeness of Eskel's stomach dwarfed Geralt's hands as they worked.

Eskel hissed as Geralt prodded at his stomach, clearly trying to be as gentle as possible, but their sharp movements were not helping.

“It’s alright,” Jaskier muttered next to him, kissing his temple lightly and moving his hand up and down Eskel’s back. “They’ll be done in a moment.”

True to Jaskier’s word, Geralt pulled their hands away a moment later and stood up.

“What’s the verdict, Doctor?” Jaskier asked playfully, trying to lighten the mood.

Geralt ficked Jaskier’s shoulder, earning a soft ow that made Eskel smile, before looking to Eskel.

“Looks like mild food poisoning or a stomach flu,” They said. “The cramping should go away soon.”

Eskel nodded. He could live with that. Especially when he had two partners to take care of him. His shoulders sagged in relief, there was nothing out of the ordinary wrong with him.

“We should get you cleaned up, darling,” Jaskier said, looking at Geralt. “Would you help him to the bathroom?”

Geralt nodded, eyeing the way that Eskel was still clinging to Jaskier in order to stay upright. Eskel opened his mouth to say that he could walk when suddenly Geralt was gently sliding an arm under his knees and lifting him up.

Eskel squirmed in their arms. “I’m getting my sick all over you,” he protested. He had long since given up protesting that he was too heavy for Geralt to carry. Mostly because Geralt had once told him that they had started working out years ago, when the three of them had gotten together, in order to be able to lift both him and Jaskier at once.

“I’ve had worse,” Geralt reassured him.

Jaskier placed a lingering hand on Eskel’s cheek. “I’m going to clean up and put away the groceries, I’ll be in soon, alright darling? Geralt’s going to take good care of you in the meantime.”

He pressed a light kiss to Eskel’s nose and Geralt whined above him until Jaskier laughed and kissed their cheek as well, before heading to the kitchen

Geralt carried him down the hall to the bathroom, slowly, so as to not aggravate his stomach more, and carefully set him on the closed toilet seat.

“Do you think you’re going to be sick again?” Geralt asked, keeping a steadying, supportive hand on Eskel’s shoulder.

Eskel shook his head.

Geralt seemed satisfied by his answer and moved on to their next question. “Can you get undressed by yourself?”

“I think,” Eskel said, looking down at the work clothes that he was still in, now covered in his own sick. It shouldn't be too difficult to get his shirt off, although he might have trouble bending over.

“Let me know if you need help,” Geralt said, squeezing Eskel’s shoulder before rummaging around under the sink in the bin of various bath products that Jaskier kept.

Eskel clumsily unbuttoned his shirt and tugged it off. He managed to undo his belt and the buttons on his pants before another cramp hit that made it excruciating to bend over. He let out an involuntary whimper.

Geralt was there in a second, calmly taking the soiled clothes from Eskel’s hands and tossing them in the sink before gently tugging off his pants, underwear and socks. They pulled off their own clothes quickly and offered Eskel a hand to stand up before guiding him to the shower.

Jaskier had absolutely insisted that their apartment have a huge bathroom because he loved taking baths and sometimes forcing his partners to join him as well. Geralt and Eskel hadn’t really cared either way and had gone along with it. They mostly just used the shower and ignored the giant bathtub, but based on the various products Geralt had taken out, Eskel had a feeling that he was the one who was going to be pampered today instead of Jaskier.

Still, the shower was plenty big enough for the two of them and Geralt let Eskel lean against them, keeping one of their hands wrapped around Eskel’s chest to keep him upright as they turned on the water.

Geralt washed away the sick that had still been stubbornly clinging to Eskel’s skin, making sure to get it all off before turning off the water and guiding him over to the tub, which was already filling.

“Do you need help getting in?” Geralt asked.

The sides of the tub were high and Eskel’s balance was still off. He hated to ask for help doing something so simple, but he knew that Geralt wouldn’t care. Still, the thought of being so helpless made him feel incredibly useless.

“If you don't mind?”

Geralt smiled one of their rare smiles before first pulling Eskel into a tight hug, their wet bodies clinging to each other as Geralt engulfed Eskel in their secure embrace. Geralt kissed away the water droplets on Eskel’s forehead and Eskel sighed at the pleasant pressure of Geralt’s own muscled stomach pressing against his large, soft one, dulling the aches and pains there for the time being.

“You never have to feel bad for asking for help,” Geralt whispered, their professional, paramedic voice gone and replaced with the soft, loving one that they reserved for their partners. “You’re sick, let Jaskier and I take care of you.”

“Okay,” Eskel whispered into Geralt’s neck.

Geralt pulled away and stepped into the tub, keeping a firm hand on Eskel the entire time. Then they offered their arm to Eskel, keeping their other one wrapped around him as he stepped in slowly, ready to take his weight if he fell.

Geralt helped Eskel sit, back against the side of the half-filled tub, as they began to futz with Jaskier’s bath serums and salts and god knew what else.

Eskel let his eyes slip closed as the water lapped around him, already feeling heavenly against his sore stomach. Soon, the steam was filled with the faint scent of lavender and chamomile. The jets, another thing that Jaskier insisted that they have, were flicked on behind him and only then did he feel Geralt settle next to him, tugging at Eskel’s shoulders until he was leaning against their chest.

Geralt gently tugged Eskel’s arm away from his large stomach and settled their own hands there. But while their earlier examination of Eskel’s stomach had been clinical and painful, their hands now were light and gentle, massaging away the cramps that were still plaguing him.

Eskel sighed into the touch. He loved getting his stomach rubbed, but was often too shy to ask for it, even from his partners. He knew that Geralt and Jaskier didn’t mind that he was on the larger side and they never shied away from showing his body love, but he was always hesitant about asking.

But this...this was heavenly. Geralt’s fingers seemed to anticipate each cramp and ache, massaging them away with ease as their fingers moved over his skin with delicacy in the manner of someone who had spent years memorizing his body. They glided over his skin under the sweet smelling water, occasionally scratching gently at the hair that grew on his stomach, and traced over his numerous stretch marks, never judging him, just loving and caring for his body.

Eskel whimpered as Geralt’s fingers brushed over a particularly sensitive spot above his hip.

“You like this, don’t you?” Geralt muttered, their voice vibrating against Eskel’s back.

“Mmmhm.” It was the only sound that Eskel could make, too overcome by the bliss that was Geralt massaging away his pain.

“You don’t have to be in pain for us to rub your stomach,” Geralt whispered, one of their hands coming to cup Eskel’s stomach protectively as the other continued rubbing at the sensitive spot on his side. “It’s a very nice stomach.”

Eskel snorted at Geralt’s awkward compliment.

“It is ,” Geralt muttered crossly. “I think it’s big enough for both Jaskier and I to rub at once, actually."

And if that thought didn't reduce Eskel to a puddle.

“But the point is that you can ask for these things,” Geralt continued. “We’re your partners, we want to make you feel happy and loved.”

“I know,” Eskel whispered, finally finding his words. “I’ll remember for next time.”

“Hmm,” Geralt hummed in satisfaction, never stopping their fingers from rubbing away Eskel’s pain. The cramps were coming less frequently now, but the dull ache was still there.

He didn't want Geralt to stop.

That was how Jaskier found them: Eskel, leaning against Geralt’s chest, half asleep and getting his stomach rubbed.

“Oh my poor darling,” Jaskier whispered, kneeling down next to the tub and turning off the water before kissing the top of Eskel’s head. “Are you feeling any better?”

Eskel nodded.

“I bet you’re both glad that I insisted we get a place with a big tub now, hm?” Jaskier asked smugly.

Eskel didn't need to have his eyes open to know that Geralt was glaring at him.

A sharp cramp went through the left side of Eskel’s stomach right at that moment and he gasped, sitting up and away from Geralt as he felt his stomach begin to clench.

“Shh, it’s alright,” Jaskier muttered, shoving something under Eskel’s chin. “Let it out.”

Geralt rubbed his back as he began to heave, the familiar feeling of bile scorching his throat making him wince, but nothing else came out.

“It’s alright, it’s okay.” Jaskier pushed his wet hair away from his face, muttering soothing words until Eskel’s heaving stopped and he settled back against Geralt, his stomach aching.

Geralt’s hands were immediately back on his stomach, soothing away the ache just as they had been before and Eskel sighed.

Jaskier ran a hand through his wet hair. “Would you like me to wash your hair for you, darling?”

Eskel nodded. Anything to take his mind off of the ache in his stomach. He thought he had been done throwing up. He didn't think he could deal with the painful ache again.

There was the sound of Jaskier gathering bottles and then something sweet and citrusy smelling was being rubbed into his hair, the scent quickly overpowering any lingering stench of sickness.

Jaskier’s fingers massaged at his scalp, another one of his weak spots, although this was one that his partners knew about. But between Geralt’s hands rubbing his stomach and Jaskier’s hands scratching gently at his scalp, Eskel thought that it was possible that he had achieved pure bliss.

He just wished that he wasn't sick. That way he would have been able to appreciate it properly.

Jaskier washed the soap from his hair gently, using a cup that he filled with water and holding his hand just so so that none of the bubbles got into his eyes. Then there was another burst of citrus as Jaskier rubbed conditioner through Eskel’s hair.

Eskel usually skipped this step in his own shower routine, mostly out of pure laziness, but Jaskier loved it when his hair was shiny and smooth. He focused on the feeling of Jaskier carefully detangling his hair as he raked his fingers through the soap-coated strands.

“Your hair is going to be so soft, darling,” Jaskier whispered as he rinsed out the conditioner. “I’ll even dry it for you if you want.”

Another thing that Eskel never did for himself. But he had to admit that the thought of going to bed right now with his hair wet did not sound fun.

“Please?” he asked quietly.

“Of course, darling,” Jaskier said. “Are you ready to get out?”

Eskel hesitated. The water had grown slightly cold, but he didn't want Geralt to stop rubbing his stomach. He knew it was stupid, but he thought that if Geralt could see his stomach, they wouldn’t want to give it the same love and attention because it was too large. Right now it was hidden by the bath water, and he knew that Geralt and Jaskier had seen it before, even used it as a pillow from time to time, but that was different than caressing and rubbing it. They might not want to.

“I can rub your stomach more when we get out,” Geralt whispered, as if reading Eskel’s thoughts.

“Promise?” Eskel couldn't help the small, desperate word that escaped his lips.

“Of course.” Geralt sealed their promise with a wet kiss to Eskel’s neck.

Jaskier flicked the drain and the sweet scented bubbled started to recede.

Geralt shifted, preparing to stand as they hooked their arms under Eskel’s armpits. “Can you get your legs under you?” They whispered.

Eskel tried, bending his knees and planting his feet on the bottom of the tub, but the action made his stomach cramp horribly and he whined in discomfort.

“It’s alright darling,” Jaskier whispered. “Just a moment longer and then you can rest again.”

True to Jaskier’s word, Geralt stood the both of them up not a moment later and the ache in Eskel’s stomach lessened once he was standing again

Geralt and Jaskier helped him out of the tub and dried him off before helping him into a pair of underwear and one of his softest t-shirts.

True to Jaskier’s word, he brushed out Eskel’s hair and dried it while Geralt got dressed and cleaned up the bathroom. The warm air from the hair dryer was pleasant, and Eskel was almost sad when Jaskier turned it off.

But then Geralt was scooping him up again and carrying him to their bed, sliding him under the covers gently. Geralt curled up against his right side and Jaskier settled on his left.

Eskel was nearly asleep. The bath had been soothing, as well as his partners’ caretaking, and he had nearly tired himself out. So he didn't catch the brief words that Geralt and Jaskier exchanged over him.

But he felt both of their hands slide under his shirt and rub at his stomach in the same way that Geralt had been doing earlier.

Eskel gasped in surprise, not expecting his partners to be so forthcoming in this, but they continued all the same, rubbing away his aches and pains until they were nothing more than a memory.

Geralt ran their other hand along Eskel’s thigh as well, massaging the soft skin there with the heel of their hand. Jaskier let his other hand drift up further under Eskel’s shirt, rubbing the soft padding covering his ribs and chest, giving his top surgery scars a little extra attention before working his way back down.

“You don’t-” Eskel gasped, too overcome by the love that his partners were showing him. “You don’t have to.”

“Oh darling,” Jaskier murmured, his breath tickling the hair on Eskel’s stomach as he kissed gently across his fading aches. “We want to.”

Eskel thought he felt tears prick in his eyes as Geralt’s lips joined Jaskier’s, pressing gentle kisses into his stomach. He drifted off, surrounded by his two partners and their undying love for him.

__

theyre SOMFT YOUR HONOR

go check out mine and jennies blog @softtummysupport if you like this kind of stuff, and/or join our discord (link in pinned post on that blog)

tag list: (hmu if you want on or off)

@percy-jackson-is-sexy- @barlowpng @eminasan @llamasdumpsterfire @nonegenderleftpain @geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde @geekymagicalpotato @jaskierswolf @toss-a-coin-to-your-stan-account @toss-a-coin-to-your-lesbian @littleredhotridinghood @fontegagrilledcheese @acemoppet @lookatgeraltmyboi @gods-oopsie-woopsie @julek @funkylittlebard @dani-dandelino @officerjennie @kuripon @alllthequeenshorses @mothmanismyuncle @dapandapod 

#the witcher #witcher #witcher fic #geraskel #geralt #jaskier #eskel #geralt x jaskier x eskel #geraskel fic #witcher fanfic #witcher fanfiction #soft!eskel #i love them #saph scribbles

[hiswhiteknight]

Unbelievably Outlandish– Part 6

Summary:  Before starting down a new crossroads, the Reader goes onto an adventure of literary traveling. Suddenly tossed into an unbelievable story that has swept the world, The Outlander Series itself. How will a twenty first century woman survive?

Note: I own no characters, except reader, clearly this is based off the lovely book series Outlander by Diana Gabaldon and tv show. This follows more the tv show, but it’s far from accurate. I’m going to try to get better with using less proper English, but who knows maybe I’ll get into Scottish slang.

Sorry I’ve been away, I’ve been trying to get some balance and perspective. I’m hoping to come back swinging. Thanks for everyone’s supports, it makes it a real pleasure to continue to write. 

Oh, at this point is when it might start slowly deviating from the tv show. 

Pairing: Jamie Fraser x Female Reader

Words: 2300 (long!!!!)

Warning: Angst, playfulness, cursing, slow start, obviously fighting and such

Jamie was making his way towards the kitchen, thankfully you subtly slipped out, and found your way to the pair as Murtagh whispered harsh words to Jamie. You didn’t even look at Jamie, “This way,” you whispered harshly.

You led the gentleman to the space Mrs. Fitz showed you, where you were studying and trying to understand as much as you could about medicine. “Try not to hurt the man, lass, I think you’ve given him enough trouble,” Murtagh shared as he helped Jamie to the seat.

Looking him straight in the eye, stone faced, “Next time you think I’ll want your thoughts Murtagh, I’ll be sure enough ask for it.”

It was obvious he was doing his best not to growl or yell at you, “Watch yourself, she’s wee sized, but she’ll find you weak spot and have you on the ground real fast.”

“I expect minimum talking from you, sir,” you look around Murtagh to Jamie. He was biting back a smirk, “You are quite the barbarians, you know, fits and all.”

“Are men in the colonies babes, do they not know how to be a real man,” Murtagh questioned you again. Shooting him another glare, he quickly shut up, “Jamie, I’ll leave you with the woman. Best of luck.”

“Goodbye Murtagh, miss you already,” you wave at him. Jamie watched you in amazement, shaking his head at your antics. You shrug, “I think I’m growing on him.”

He still held his arm as you passed him something to drink, “Watch yourself, Deoiridh, Murtagh is a good man, but not all men are as nice as him.”

You were mixing some stuff you learned could be good for healing and inflammation, while pointing back at the door, “That man, nice? Where,” you question again.

He shook his head, “Trust me.”

“Sure,” he said.

You started to work on his face, trying to be as gentle as possible. He did do something quite honorable for a young woman, “Why did you do that, I could have handled it,” you whispered trying to focus on his face.

“I understand you are not familiar with our ways, but for an unmarried woman and a stranger,” he said while trying to make eye contact awkwardly, “like yourself, it would have brought you shame. I’m sore, but not really damaged. I would have done the same thing for the girl if you hadn’t stepped in. And the Mackenzie’s don’t much mind for outsiders getting into their affairs.”

“I don’t care what people think of me,” you answered back, “And I’m here, I exist in their affairs.”

He grabbed your hand to stop you, “I don’t know much about you Y/N, but I know I couldn’t sit and watch,” he was stopped my Mrs. Fitz coming in with somethings for Jamie.

“What you did was kindly meant lad,” she said to him, nearly crying. A part of you broke inside seeing her this upset. It melted your anger down to almost nothing. Jamie had let go of your hand, thanking Mrs. Fitz.

“Do me a favor, don’t get into any more fights. You’ve got a few days before this arm fully heals and I already have enough things to do than mend your ailments, sir,” you turn away to start cleaning up things around you.

“You seem to be quite the busy woman,” he said, standing up to look down at you.

Stopping to look up at his smirk. He was aware that his touch and close proximity was affecting your mood, “Yeah, so busy I might not be able to deal with you. If I don’t see you in two days, you should remove your bandages,” you answered him, not looking him in the eyes again.

“I’m sure I can manage,” he smirked some more. He stopped your fidgeting and avoidance maneuvers with hands by gripping your arm and forcing you to look at him, “But I’d sure not mind seeing you if you do find the time.”

A clank caught your attention, Mrs. Fitz’s granddaughter stood waiting an audience with Jamie, “Seems you have someone waiting to thank you,” you pull back from his grip.

“So it does,” he looked in her direction.

“I’ll leave you to it,” you say pulling a few things of yours into your arms. You took a step towards the entrance, before turning back to him, “Oh, by the way, your charm doesn’t work on me Jamie. I’m still plenty mad at you,” and you swung back around, hearing his chuckle from his breath.

  The way Jamie made you feel unease, an unfamiliar feeling, you found it easy to force yourself to avoid him. Jamie was right about something; you were a stranger. Collum and Dougal were both suspicious of you, so you tried to find ways to get them to trust you. You had spent some time thinking about finding a way back to the rocks, but you were far from identifying a detailed plan.

In the trying to gain trust of the community, outside of educating yourself about potential, but sketchy ways of healing people and creating medical notes for your own survival experiences with your outdoorsy brother and the military.

You gravitated to the children and the woman of the people. Often you were showing the children how to better their fighting skills and how to create weapons, especially the girls. With the women, you peaked some of the more progressive women to learn some self-defense and battle strategy, but mostly you tried to educate them in how to read people.  The one day, you made Mrs. Fitz laugh by predicting Angus tripping over the wood by the fire and deciding to drink to help his wounded pride, “Hope you’re not a witch,” she laughed.

“Mrs. Fitz, I’m just good with people. Witchcraft is something that takes much more strategy and imagination,” you grinned at her, before passing Angus another cup of mead caused Mrs. Fitz to laugh again.

Outside of trying to educate the community in swords play and self defense, you have gotten closer to Collum. He clearly was suspicious, and he relied too heavily on you when it came to medicine and healing. Often it made you think of your brother, he could heal nearly anything from anywhere. You remembered how your brother helped a puppy left in the woods to die because it’s inability to walk on its own. Some of the small gestures he did to help the puppy, like massaging its legs and back. You thought of this when Collum called you to help ease the pain of his legs. You were just lucky that what your brother taught you work. Human bodies and nakedness didn’t make you uncomfortable, especially when regarding science and medicine. It was nice to have a purpose and learn something new.

With yourself getting comfortable didn’t mean there were not difficulties. Unfortunately, that came with the unease of being a woman from the 21st century in an era of no women’s rights. You got shouted at for just wanting to wear a pair of pants. And quite a few gentlemen enjoyed the fact that you were an unmarried woman, which made you incredibly uncomfortable when they sought your affection or attention.

At this current moment, you found yourself getting ‘the lean’ from Dougal, “You seem to be finding yourself a home here.”

“Of course, but not too comfortable,” you mumbled to him, drinking some of the rhenish. You never quite got the hang of drinking, but during these uncomfortable times it was making it easier to cope.

He nodded, “Right, you’re waiting for news from your brother. Collum mentioned you tried to send word for him at the colonies.”

Looking anywhere but at him, you tried to pull yourself from this situation, “Yes, I hope to hear back from him.” You paused to choose your words wisely, “I’m going to try to get closer, excuse me.��

You sit on a bench away from the wandering eyes and whispers of the hall. Mrs. Fitz’s granddaughter sat next to me, “Hello, I’m Y/N O’Mulligain your grandmother talks very highly of you.”

She sent you a smile, leaning in to whisper back, “Laoghaire Mackenzie, I never got to thank you for trying to-.”

You stopped her with a wave, “No, no need,” you both looked towards a figure entering the hall, “That’s the man who gets all the thanks.”

“Yeah,” she gushed in a whisper, “I just wish he had eyes for me.”

Jamie made eye contact with you, making his way in your direction, “He is quite the charmer, Mr. Mactavish.” You look back at her, “He’d be stupid not to like you, you’re quite beautiful.”

Jamie interrupted your conversation by sitting in between the both of you. He greeted you both before turning his attention to the musician who started to play. You had done such a good job avoiding your feelings of hatred, annoyance, and something else with Jamie. And because Laoghaire sat next to you, you were stuck with him sitting next to you.  You leaned forward, continuing to drink your rhenish. It was quite beautiful, if only you could understand what he was saying, “Do you not like the music Miss O’Mulligian,” Jamie asked you, trying to read your facial expression.

You leaned back, “Oh no, it’s truly lovely. I just focusing on the words, wish I knew what the song was about.” There might have been other motivations to looked focused and uncomfortable, but it was mostly true.

Jamie started to explain a little about the musician when Laoghaire tried to prompt Jamie to talk to her about their past, “No, I don’t think so. Still, I wouldn’t be likely too.”

You glared at Jamie for being so dense, “But look at her now, quite the enchanting young woman,” you point to her.

He glanced at her, “Aye, she’s bonnie.”

Eventually you got quite focused on the music, sighing, and holding your hand to your face in amazement. You couldn’t quite hammer out why you were acting so strange, besides the point that you could feel the tension from Laoghaire and Jamie’s presence next to you, “That Collum’s rhenish?”

“Sure is,” than it started to hit you. It was quite easy to drink, but it was starting to get to your head, “I think this is my second, maybe my third, but I’m fairly sure my second. Would you like it,” you offered it to Jamie, trying not to laugh at the awkwardness you were feeling.

“Most people wouldn’t be standing by their second,” he took it from your hands. When the song finished, you struggled not to roar with applause and shout like you were at a hockey game. Jamie stopped you before the next song started, “Miss O’Mulligian, remember discussing the bandage it’s been bothering me, would you mind taking a look at it,” his whispered.

You leaned back in shock, “You can’t be serious, right now,” you question. He nods, “Fine, but if I never get to see this guy play again. It’s your ass Mr. Mactavish,” you mockingly say his name. You get up and make your way to your workspace, trying not to grumble with annoyance. You put most of your focus on the walk to your work area, though for some reason it was not as easy as you remember. Thankfully Jamie was leading the way, which made you remember the time he tossed you over his shoulder. Before you could complete that thought, you were there, “Let’s see it,” you point to him to have a seat on the table.

“I don’t need your help,” he grinned at you, “I thought it was best to get you back to the surgery while you can stand.”

You lean against the table, letting a laugh out, “Oh,” you answered him, “You think I’m inebriated, you might be right,” you chucked again, “I thought about jumping on your back on the way down here and making you carry me.”

“You can hold your own,” he said, stepping towards you to lean against the table with you, “But thought it’d be best to be safe.”

“Thank you,” you knew he was right and that it’d be best to get to safe place before you made a fool of yourself. You glance at him gain with your heavy eyes, “Surprised you haven’t moved the bandage.”

Sending you another smile, “Scared about what you might do.”

“Smart man,” you answered back, “While you’re here, let me look at it,” you spun to look at him. He didn’t much move, he just gazed at you as you undid his shirt. You felt like you were suddenly on fire and with the alcohol is was become harder to fight the urge and attraction to Jamie, “You should pay more mind to Laoghaire, she like you.”

“Aye, she is a nice girl,” he said as he watched you maneuver around his clothing and bandage, “Why do you mention it.”

Ignoring his questions, “It looks just about right,” you cover it up again, “I’d say in a few days you can remove all this.”

“As you say,” he took a step back, cutting a smirk away, “I didn’t realize you cared so much about my affairs Miss O’Mulligian”

You rolled your eyes and stomped a foot as you walked around the table to get your things in order before you go to sleep, “I feel for the girl Mister Mactavish. It has very little to do with you.”

He looked towards the door, then back at you, “Right lass, if that’s the case. I’ll be off. Good night Miss O’Mulligian.”

Part 7

Taglist:  @doctorwhatwhenandwhere @damnedandbroken @blushingpogue @blancastans

#Outlander #outlander imagine #outlander fanfiction #Jamie Fraser #jamie fraser imagines #jamie fraser imagine #jamie fraser x reader #jamie frazier x reader

[i-rely-on-you]

I will never let you go

The smoke around her began to make her eyes water but she welcomed the stinging sensation. She deserved to be in pain. For what she had done to these people. Innocent settlers for all she knew. ‘Gods give her strength.’, she thought as her feet stepped over crumbled walls of buildings that were once homes to families. The crunch under her boots only amplifying the noise of burning wood and crumpling stone all around her.

The air smelled of singed flesh and she could see bodies littered all around her, peeking out of rubble and fallen structures.

That’s when her ears picked up on another noise, making her head snap to the side quickly.

It sounded foreign and off as if it didn’t belong here.

Following the weird sound floating over to her from the carcass of a caved in brick building the fairy stepped over stones and bodies alike before coming to a halt in the centre of a burned down house.

It was small and partially destroyed, the fire still nipping at its walls.

Suddenly her eyes focused on something moving in the dirt.

No more than 5 feet from her lay the wiggling body of an infant halfway covered by a fallen beam hanging over its head. The glare of the embers clinging to the wood above it making its face seem red and angry.

The momentary shock of the scene in front of her gave way to Farah darting forward, bridging the distance separating herself from the baby in less than two steps.

Falling to her knees she reached out a hand to shield the baby’s head from the falling ash floating down the wooden beam, the sizzling cinders burning her skin upon coming into contact with the back of her hand.

The mind fairy slid her hands beneath the small body carefully as not to jostle it too much should it be hurt.

Slipping her fingers as gently as she could under the still wiggling infants bottom. Reaching out her other hand to stabilise the head of the now crying babe she pulled it towards her and away from the fire that had started to crawl up the wooden pole.

Looking down at the very alive bundle of energy in her arms Farah sat back on her haunches just taking it in. ‘How was this baby still alive after all this carnage?’

As if just now coming awake to the situation the woman noticed the nakedness of the sniffling and gurgling child.

A girl. A tiny baby girl no more than a month old if she had to guess.

Her soft cries were subdued as if she had already given up on anyone ever coming for her and it made the fairies eyes sting but this time it wasn’t from the smoke.

Her tiny frail body was covered in soot and dirt from head to toe and almost immediately she noticed the temperature of her little body. It was too cold. She had already started to cool out.

Thinking on her feet had always been her strong suit and so the first thing coming to mind was, ‘Body heat is the quickest way to warm up a person!!’

With this thought she balanced the unhappy child on her lap and started to pull off her jacket and the shirt beneath. Dropping both garments to the floor beside her she gathered the infant in her arms, nestling her close to her chest and belly.

Grabbing for her discarded shirt the fairy began to swaddle up the baby’s back and bottom as best as she could.

Farah managed to pull on her jacket once more single handedly while supporting the child at her front with the other hand.

Seeing as the jacket she was wearing was made out of a material that would give enough to hold the babe close to her still, she began to pull up the zipper almost all the way. Leaving only a small amount of room at the neck for the little one to breathe.

Almost immediately after coming into contact with her front the child began to quiet, her little body melting into the muscled lines of Farah’s stomach.

Shushing her quietly the mind fairy began to rock from side to side gently, it was like an instinct taking over.

The woman had never had much experience with children much less babies.

Her time training under Rosalind had pulled her away from most of her friends who had become mothers over the years.

With a shocking realisation Farah’s head snapped up looking around wildly. ‘Where was Rosalind?’

She hadn’t seen her mentor once after having come down here to inspect the damage done to the settlement.

Hoping she wasn’t anywhere nearby she shushed the baby again softly upon hearing her making tiny noises from the depth of her jacket.

Looking down she could see that her little head had settled on her breast right over her heart, her soft cries turning into hiccups as she began to settle down.

Sinking a hand into the open flap of her jackets collar, Farah put her hand to the small head resting on her chest and began stroking the little dirty tufts of hair there.

It seemed like the touch had a grounding effect on the infant as she felt her calm down even more, the contact making the tiny girl drowsy with fatigue.

Still stunned Farah looked up from her position still kneeling in the dirt and began to rise on slightly unsteady feet.

The weight of the infant settling comfortably against her front as she began to look around for signs of other life that might still be out here.

But the only thing greeting her was the cold and empty silence accompanying death. A dreadful feeling settling in the pit of her stomach Farah decided to get back up the steep mountains edge in search of her friends.

Thinking of Ben and Saul made her anxious. Had they been hurt? Where had they vanished off to? And where had Rosalind gone off to all of the sudden? It wasn’t like her to not be gloating with a kill.

The shadow of that woman had been looking over her like a storm cloud long enough. This was the last straw Farah mused. She must’ve gone mad.

Killing an entire village, practically committing genocide. And for what? To kill a few Burned Ones? This was madness and now she had been made an accomplice.

Fury bubbled up in the fairy mixing with the guilt of what had transpired mere minutes ago. Fear and sadness leeching into worry and heartache as she looked down at the now peaceful babe in her arms.

Struggling up the ridge had been quite challenging as she tried not to falter on the slippery slope caked with mud and wet leafs. But once at the top she fell into an agitated step leading her away from the chaos and into the thick foliage of the forest before her.

It didn’t take long to get to the small clearing where they had stashed the cars.

Upon making it past the tree line her eyes fell on Saul leaning on the hood of the last remaining car. Ben was perched on the backseat, his legs dangling from inside the cabin. He looked deep in thought and hunched over whereas Saul looked to be deeply troubled and distressed. His leg bouncing up and down and his finger tipping a staccato of short and jumpy movements into his crossed arms.

Relief flooded her system upon seeing them unharmed. There was no trace of their mentor to be found which only added to her quiet exhale of abated fear.

Stepping over the last shrubbery separating her from her friends, she heard more than felt her boots crunch the gravel beneath her feet, alerting the soldier leaning against the car to her joining them in the clearing.

As if sensing her his eyes sought out hers as she stepped out from the shadows of the surrounding trees and into the light. His worry melting away a little instantly upon seeing her he immediately began moving towards her, pushing away from the car and starting a half jog in her direction.

Fear etched on his face as he took in her slightly curled inward body language.

Not even taking in the bulge at her front at first he let his eyes roam over her face for any signs of distress before saying, “Heavens where have you been?”

Upon reaching her he let his palms settle on her arms gently before his eyes fell to her hands covering her front protectively.

Letting his eyes take in the weird bulge and her fearful gaze he began, “Farah-…” before trailing off. Giving her a curious look he came closer, stepping up directly in front of her.

Chancing one last look at her guilt ridden face he looked down at her jacket and grasped the zipper carefully before sliding it downwards a little, only so much as to catch a glimpse at the top of the baby’s head.

“Gods, Farah what-…” his soft exclamation of surprise had the woman in front of him tighten her hold on the infant slightly.

Stepping up even closer to her, almost crowding her in the process had the soldiers wary look bleed away into curiosity as he turned a little sideways to make out the child’s face smushed into his best friends chest.

He could see her tiny button nose and her dirty cheeks as she lay slumbering, safely encased in Farah’s arms.

Looking back up at his fairy he saw the woman only shaking her head and motioning to the car. Catching onto the fear still lingering on her face quickly he wound his arm around her back, one hand settling on both of hers and steered her in the direction of the vehicle.

The crunching gravel beneath their feet alerted the earth fairy on the backseat, making him jump up quickly and assessing the situation with his finely honed astuteness.

He had always been able to read any situation before it could even unfold completely, making Farah throw him a grateful glance as he marched around the car quickly only to settle into the drivers seat with practiced ease.

Making their way over and slipping into the back quickly, Farah and Saul began to buckle themselves in, the specialist helping his partner carefully manoeuvre the belt and letting the buckle slip into place.

As soon as he heard the straps being safely secured the earth fairy started the car and sped off, leaving behind a trail of disrupted soil and a flurry of mud and dirt.

Leaving behind the burning settlement and the smell of their shared failure in the process.

Scooting closer to Farah, Saul began to peel away parts of the jacket obstructing his view.

The infant was still sleeping rather peacefully he noted, face still pressed to the fairy’s skin, a small amount of drool dribbling from the baby’s chin and running past the swell of Farah’s breasts.

Looking up from the child’s face now he directed his gaze at Farah, asking the only question neither of them could answer.

“How is this baby still alive? The whole god damn mountain exploded.”

Hearing a grunt of approval from the front, had them realise this had been on the earth fairy’s mind as well.

He hadn’t said anything but they knew he had seen their faces and the telltale bulge the size of an infant under Farah’s jacket, he could put two and two together just fine. She had actually found a survivor and a baby no less.

Tears sprang to the mind fairy’s eyes again at the thought of all the lives lost on that mountain. That settlement. It was a gruesome fate for these villagers to have to die like this.

Swallowing the lump forming in her throat she looked down again in disbelief because she herself didn’t understand how it was even possible for a tiny human such as this to have survived the attack. The blast alone should have obliterated all life within a five mile radius at least and she had found the girl right in the epicentre of where lightning had struck. It was impossible really.

Levelling the man sitting close to her with tearful eyes she whispered, “I don’t know.”

Shaking her head a little she continued, her voice a little stronger now. “I found her in between the rubble and I didn’t think, I just reacted and grabbed her and came to find you two. I don’t understand it either but strangely enough she seemed completely unharmed.”

Farah looked at him with tears in her eyes threatening to fall and shook her head once more, disbelief still clinging to her because she too didn’t understand either.

It was a wonder in on itself that she hadn’t been burned by any of the flames licking at the ground around her. Or that that wooden beam hadn’t come down on her, crushing her in the process.

Marvelling at the tiny creature in his partners arms Sauls eyes went wide. “A little baby girl unharmed by the flames.” Maybe wonders did exist after all. “You think it was magic that protected her?”

Her mind still in turmoil Farah thought about it for a moment before a sudden fear gripped at her heart.

Taking hold of the soldiers hand next to her in a hasty movement that surprised the both of them she rushed out, “Rosalind can’t find out Saul! She can’t find out! If she finds her she will want to get rid of any and all evidence linking us to this place! Saul I can’t -“, but she was cut off by him shushing her gently.

A calloused hand settled on her cheek as her specialist touched his forehead to hers soothingly.

“Shh Farah it’s alright she won’t find out, I promise. We will find a way to protect her shhh.”

The tears that had been threatening to fall finally leaked past her closed eyelids and she let out a small strangled sob at the thought of loosing this little girl after only just having found her.

This little wonder.

Slipping his arms around her shoulders gently Saul held her to him securely.

His warm and strong frame the only thing keeping the woman in his arms from falling apart completely as she wept.

A lot of people had died today and they would forever be feeling responsible for each and every life that had been lost. Every soul that had been extinguished prematurely.

But they would keep this little flame burning even if it was the last thing they did.

Whatever it took.

-fin ?

Thank you so much for reading 😊 Tell me what you think in the comments and feel free to leave some kudos as well ♥️

https://archiveofourown.org/works/30367080

#silrah #fanfic #ao3 #farah dowling x saul silva #farah dowling #saul silva #farah is taking a nap #bring back farah dowling 2k22 #farahs hair

[witcherarcanathings]

When You’re Gone - An Asra/ Lucio x Female Reader Angst part 4

Summary: Lucio goes after his run away lover. The apprentice has a choice to make.

Word Count: 5000. Should I have broken it into smaller chunks? No.

Warnings: Smut, 18+, Language

Author’s Note: Special thanks to @jayaanderson for reading my drafts, supporting me during the writing process and being a good friend as always.

Credit: to @royallyprincesslilly​ for the text divider

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Five

Lucio woke, golden strands of hair falling gently on his face, his features soft from a good night's rest. He'd forgotten to close the drapes last night, and he could feel the warmth of the sunlight that flooded the room. His eyes were closed, but by the color of the sunlight that shone through his eyelids he knew that it must have been mid-day and he smiled. The two of you had slept well past noon - a testament to your night of passion.

He stretched out, groaning loudly as a sleepy smile spread across his face. He stretched his arm out towards you, reaching to caress the softness of your cheek to gently stir you awake. "Good morning, my love. Did you-"

He felt the emptiness of the space beside him. His heart jumped into his throat as panic filled his chest.

"She's probably just in the bath, I'll pop in and say hello." He murmured, trying to soothe himself. He sat up, throwing the sheets aside, unashamed of his nakedness as he approached the large mahogany doors that led to the Count's personal bath.

With the most charming smile he could muster he opened the doors.

"Doll, don't tell me you started without me?"

Silence. He was talking to an empty room of cold marble and his heart sunk. With empty eyes he looked around him and saw the truth. Your clothes were gone. You were nowhere to be found. It was almost like you hadn't been there at all.

You'd left him without saying a word.

The only proof that you'd been there at all was the warmth that you'd left behind from your side of the bed. He lay there, his cheek pressed against the sheets as your scent filled him.

He didn't know why he started crying - hot, angry, sorrowful tears that seemed to multiply the ache in his chest rather than abate it . He thought you were different, that after all the time and careful planning that last night would have made it clear you were more than just a one night stand. He wanted to be more than that

The count dressed quickly, not caring a nib whether he was a la mode or not. He made his way to your chambers, hoping for an answer as to why you left him. He knocked twice, and without an answer he entered, finding no one home.

The dress you wore to the ball last night was draped neatly on the bed, with a note attached addressed to your maidservant to have it cleaned and pressed.

Just then the girl came in, startled by the count's presence.

"Oh sire! I-I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you, it's just M'lady-" Anya began, backing away slowly as she pulled the door to close it.

"No it's alright. You may resume your duties." Lucio placed the note back on the dress, taking a careful look around. "Tell me, just where is your mistress? Has she given you any indication of her whereabouts this afternoon?" Lucio doubted it, but he thought he'd ask anyway. He was desperate.

Anya shook her head, " No sire. The Lady Magician usually is here about this time - doing her spellwork and what not. If she's not here sir, it's the library. Shall I send someone to fetch her for you, my lord?"

"No. It's perfectly alright. I'm sure I'll run into her. Thank you."

He strode out of your room, proud and regal as to not betray his disappointment. He'd try the shop. He couldn't open the door. It was magic - very strong magic meant to keep him out. But he knew someone with a key.

Questions were running through your mind as you fled the palace.You feel like Cinderella running away from the ball - that is if Cinderella slept with the prince, ran away, and then went to drown her sorrows in a seedy bar in the worst part of South End.

The Rowdy Raven was the place to go if you wanted to get away, or at least not at risk of the palace guard knowing where you were. Dressed in a black, high collar coat, you walked swiftly through the streets. The brisk morning air chilled your cheeks, the crisp breeze a herald of approaching autumn. You focused on the clip-clop sound of your boots against the cobblestone streets, quickly stepping sideways out of the path of an oncoming carriage that splashed mud on the tail ends of your coat.

Vesuvia was partial to early morning rains in the summer, and evidence of the deluge still dripped from the gutters and pooled in puddles in the street and dampened the earth.

You hardly took notice of it, only the lingering scent of rain caught your attention as your mind wrestled with the whirlwind events of last night.

The facts of the matter were that you'd made love with Lucio, and you didn't regret a single moment of it

BUT you were still in a relationship with Asra, although you two had argued, you hadn't told him it was over.

And was it over?

That was a question you'd asked yourself over and over these past few weeks, although you were refusing to speak to him - part of you still hoped you'd be able to work it out. That maybe somehow you'd reconcile. But you weren't sure if that was what you really wanted. Especially now that Lucio had stirred something inside you. He made you feel things you didn't think you would ever feel for someone else; passion, lust, maybe even love.

Julian came into the bar at around two in the afternoon. "Right on time as always, doctor." the barkeep smiled. "What can I get ya?"

"Surprise me." Julian grinned as he hung his coat on the wall. "On second thought don't. I'd like to live a bit longer."

Tilda, the barmaid came up to him on the pretense of clearing a nearby table. "Your friend, the magician's back there. Really putting them down too. Looks like something's worrying them awful fierce."

For a moment he thought Tilda meant Asra, and his heart jumped. He knew Asra had said he'd return within the week but he hadn't expected him so soon. But as Tilda nodded towards the booth in the back, he saw you and he sighed, thanking the gods because Asra and alcohol did not mix.

Hooded and still gloved he watched as you downed what looked to be your fourth Salty Bitter before he took a seat opposite of you.

"Alright, sister. Spill it. What's wrong?" Julian asked.

"You and Portia are too much alike, you know? Very perceptive." You laugh, hiccuping a bit.

"It doesn't take that much to see you're looking for answers in the wrong places. I hope this isn't because of Asra. Portia told me you two were fighting."

"I slept with Lucio." you blurt out, drink giving away your inhibition.

"Shit." Julian slumped back into the booth, steepling his long fingers as he pressed his forehead into them. "Give me the details."

You explain to him everything that happened, your flight, your confusion. your fear. He listened intently, as if you were on the examination table and he was making a diagnosis.

"I think that I know what your problem is, darling," Julian began as Tilda brought another round of drinks for you both. He waited for her to leave before he started again. " Do you know why you're here?" His arm rested gently on your shoulder.

"Because I'm a weak human being and I have no morals?" You reply, downing your 7th salty bitters.

"NO, and that's enough of that." He said, moving the 8th pint out of your reach and down his throat before you could protest.

"It's because for the first time in your life you have the kind of love that you've always dreamed of. You have someone who loves you, and you're scared shitless. You finally have that thing you've been chasing after, and now that you have it you're starting to question yourself."

"Asra loves me." You answer sadly, the words tasting bitter on your tongue, or maybe it's the alcohol. You’re not so sure.

"There's no doubt about that," Julian answers pointing a long finger at you. "But is his kind of love the one that you really want.Or just the one you've settled for because you're afraid that there is nothing better?"

The doctor’s words hit you deep, forcing you to think about them.For a moment, you were  considering whether or not Julian had an ulterior motive for wanting you to split with Asra. You'd seen that fragment of the past, and wondered if there still wasn't some feeling there. Ultimately though, that didn’t matter. Julian’s word rang true, and you knew he wouldn’t steer you wrong for his own gain. “You’re right, Ilya!” you declared, slamming your empty mug on the table. “I’ve been a damned coward, and a fool!” You grabbed another salty bitter off the tray of a passing waitress and took a big swig. “I’m going to grab true love by the testicles and tell Lucio I’m his if he’ll have me!” You posed confidently, moving to make a bold step out of the bar but failing miserably. You ended up swaying  drunkenly back and forth as you tried to catch your balance by holding on to a nearby barstool. Your double vision caused you to misjudge where it was, and your hand caught onto nothing but air,sending you straight to the floor, falling flat on your face. “Shit, you’re drunker than I thought!” Julian hopped up to pull you to your feet. “Ugh...Ilya, my face hurts….” you groaned, wincing as you touched your temple. “It should. That was a hard fall.” Julian chuckled as he checked you for any head injuries. “You gotta help me get to the palash...I gotta see Lucio. Tell him I luv him. I lurv him so mush!” You slurred, as you staggered towards the exit. “Not so fast! You can’t go to the palace like that! You’re going home until you sober up.Doctor’s orders.” Julian said, hooking his arm over your shoulder, keeping you steady. He settled the bill before, the two of you headed out, stopping a few times along the way for you to throw up in nearby alleyways.

As you and Julian were leaving South End, Lucio entered it, trying to remember the way to Julian’s Flat. He hadn’t been there in years. In fact, he couldn’t remember he ventured past center city, save for the occasional trips to the Coliseum when it had been in operation. He knew better to ask any citizen in South End where the doctor hung his hat. The people in this part of vesuvia looked out for each other, and wouldn’t snitch to the count about their favorite son. After a half hour of tracking and the clue of a familiar looking raven perched on top of a building, he found the flat.

“Jules! Jules, open up, pal! I gotta talk to ya!” Lucio’s jersey accent was strong as he knocked on the door. When there was no immediate answer, he started pounding on the door so hard that the wood began to crack under his metal fist. “Jules! Open up Jules! I know you’re in there! I saw your bird outside!” “Ay!”  A large, round, red faced man glared at Lucio from down the hall. “The doctor’s not here dipshit! Now go make your noise somewhere else. Some of us have jobs and are trying to get some sleep!”

“Hey watch your mouth! I’m the count.” Lucio said haughtily.

“Do I look like I gives a shit who you are? Clear outta here, or I’ll throw you out myself!” If Lucio was his younger self, he’d have gutted the man for talking to him this way. But he was a different man now, and tried to use diplomacy. “Alright. I’m going. And I won’t throw you in prison if you tell me where I can find Jules.” Lucio said, his patience wearing thin. “Try the rowdy raven. Looked like he was headin’ there. But you didn’t hear that from me.” the man answered before slamming his door.

“Thank you...asshole.” Lucio grumbled under his breath, his black leather boots stomping down the rickety wooden steps. The sky was overcast with somber looking clouds hovering above the city, making Lucio wonder if it would rain again or if the clouds would eventually give way to the sun. It didn’t seem that way. The smell of rain clung to the damp air, and everything felt dull, wet, and dreary. Or maybe Lucio just felt that way because the apprentice had walked out on him.If he could find you, and talk to you, maybe then he could understand why you abandoned him.

At the Rowdy Raven he could hear the ruckus in the street, the sound of laughter and cheerful, drunken singing. It all stopped when the count entered. A cool silence filled the room, and some patrons slipped quietly out the back. Others just glared at him hatefully or didn’t look his direction at all. Many still remembered Lucio as the vain, volatile and selfish ruler he once was and not as the man he was trying to become and he let out an exasperated sigh. He supposed he deserved such a reaction from his own people.

“Afternoon, Count Lucio.” Tilda curtsied, trembling a little. “How may I be of service?” “I’m looking for Dr. Devorak. Have you seen him?” The count questioned.

A pregnant silence followed as Tilda’s eyes shot to the owner behind the bar. He was cleaning glasses as he gave a nod to Tilda to answer. “He was here earlier this mornin’, sir. A lady patron had too much to drink and he walked her home. Dunno where he is now.” Tilda answered.

“A lady patron? What did she look like?” Lucio asked. He smiled when Tilda gave him your description, and Lucio sat a bag of gold on the table, enough to buy everyone in the tavern a round of drinks and then some.

As he came out of the pub, the cloudy skies overhead cleared and gave way to the sun. He knew where you were now, and that was all he needed. He set off towards your shop, confident he’d find you there.

In the shop, Julian had made you his famous, guaranteed hangover fix. You looked at the greenish brown concoction wearily, unsure if it wouldn’t come to life and bite off your nose. Besides it smelled awful.

“Ilya...Ilya I can’t drink this…” You groaned, trying to keep from vomiting from the smell of it alone.

“Aw, come on trust me! It’s my go to sober up remedy!” Julian smiled, pushing the glass towards you.”Now come on, be a good girl and drink up.”

“I don’t want to be a good girl.” you grumbled, your last protest before you took a cautious sip. Strangely, it wasn’t as bad as you thought it would be. There was a strong taste of beets, carrot and ginger, and maybe a few raw eggs. You drank it all down, pinching your nose to ward off the smell.

“Better?” julian asked as you swallowed the last.

“Somewhat. It didn’t taste that bad actually. By why in heaven's name does it smell so bad?”  you asked as you felt yourself start to sober up.

“Could’ve been the garlic, or the sardines.” Julian thought, scratching his chin. “In any case, I suggest you give your mouth a good rinse before you smooch Lucio.”

“Definitely.” you agreed, standing up slowly. “Well thank you for helping me Julian, really.” you stood on your tip toes to kiss him on the cheek, laughing when he scrunched up his face from the smell of your breath. It was just what he got for making you drink that junk. 

“You’re welcome” He gagged, trying to wave the stench away. “You should probably get yourself cleaned up and rested before you get back to the palace. I’ll clean up the kitchen before I show myself out.”

“Alrighty then,” You smiled heading upstairs to refresh yourself. 

You opened your bedroom window to reach the herbs and spices you had growing just outside on the window sill. Grabbing some cloves and spearmint you grabbed your mortar and pestle from the vanity and ground them slowly into a powder which you dipped your toothbrush in and began to scrub your mouth. You repeated the process again after taking a cold shower, feeling completely rejuvenated. You threw on a robe, and wrapped your wet hair in a towel before heading downstairs for a cup of tea. 

You were surprised to hear sounds coming from below. Julian should have finished cleaning the kitchen long ago. “Still here, Julian?” You ask not expecting to hear the voice that  you did. “No he left. But he said I could wait for you here. I hope that’s alright?” Lucio said, his voice soft and no trace of his usual brashness. 

“L-Lucio? What are you doing here? I thought you were at the palace?” You blanched.

“I can see why you would think that, considering that you left me cold and alone this morning without sayin’ a word.” He replied, his hurt apparent in the sadness in his eyes.

“I’m sorry, Lucio. This morning I woke up next to you and I had all these feelings and I panicked and-”

" And You ran away from me." Lucio finished your answer.

"NO! I mean that's not what I meant to do.... I mean, I guess I did." You sigh, turning away from him. Why were feelings so hard? Particularly these feelings. Everything seemed so straight forward when you were talking this over with Julian.

"Did I do something wrong?" Lucio asked, his tone sad and broken as his voice cracked.

"No! absolutely not.” You answered resolutely. “ I just think I did?"

"What do you mean?" 

"I mean it's not easy walking away from someone you've loved for years and then just jumping in with someone else.. I didn't want you to think I was using you as some sort of rebound or a way to get back at Asra to make him jealous. I wanted to be sure of that."

" And are you? sure?"

"No. I mean I don't know. I just know that I want to be. I want more than that with you."

"I see."

You hated those words. It's what Asra said all the time when you were arguing and it made you feel like you were talking to a wall. a wall who only saw and understood things as they wanted them to be.

“Look, what I’ve been trying to say is that I have feelings for you too, Lucio. And it scares the heck out of me, because finally I’m with someone who loves me back the way I want to be loved and I don’t know how to handle it.” You sighed, desperate to get your feelings across to the man in front of you.

"Then you want to be together?" He asked, hope in his voice, as he felt joy rising up from the tips of his toes.

"I sure hope we can be." You smile. 

“Yes!” Lucio jumps up, whooping with glee as his fist pumps in the air. He captures you in his rapture, taking you in his arms and squeezing you tightly as if he was afraid you might slip away from you again. The towel on your head slipped off and fell, landing on the kitchen floor with a wet plop.

Neither of you noticed. Lucio was too busy living in this moment, gazing into your eyes as if they were the only ones he wanted to look at. Slowly you went to kiss him, feeling his smile against your lips spread warmth throughout your body.

The kiss was different, a soft silent 'I'm sorry' that neither of you could voice but just wanted to feel as your lips explored each other.

‘I’m sorry’ quickly turned to “I need you.” as Lucio whispered it against your lips, his hands trailing lower to grip your ass through the thinness of your robe.

“Upstairs.” You whisper hurriedly, taking his hand and intending on leading him to the bedroom.  However, the jolt of him pulling you back into his arms and crashing his lips onto yours stops you in your tracks. He wanted you here and now, and would not wait any longer.  He walks you backwards and you yelp when your back hits the counter and he lifts you up onto it. Your robe falls away with ease, and Lucio thanks the stars that he chose his simple hunter’s outfit. He swiftly pulls his shirt over his head, discarding it on the floor, before bringing his chiseled chest against the smooth softness of your breasts.

There’s barely enough room for you to stand between him and the counter, but you make it work, holding his gaze as his eyes darken. Your toes barely touch the kitchen floor with your legs spread wide and open for him.

You anticipate Lucio’s touch before it comes, cold metal fingers sliding up your arched spine until his fingers can wrap around the nape of your neck. His hips press against you, just enough to let you  know he’s there, while the fingers of his other hand rids himself of the remainder of his clothes. You’re both soon stark naked against each other, a tangle of mouths and needy hands. You feel his length start to harden against the inside of your thigh. You reached down to touch it, hearing a small whimper leave the count’s throat when your thumb glides against his weeping tip. 

Like chains had just been released from his body, Lucio’s mouth attached to yours feverishly. The heat of his body permeated through the parts of skin that touched, your naked flesh felt like he was on fire against his.

The kiss was hot and heavy, saliva mixing together as he kissed you greedily. Your own mouth and tongue roamed his mouth with just as much fervour. His light fingers knotted through your hair, his teeth grazing your lips. Your own hands feeling up and down the sculpted expanse of his back and touched scars, old and new. The smaller ones your doing from last night

.

You sighed with longing and relief when Lucio slipped his finger inside. Until that moment you hadn't known how much you need lucio. But your body knew  it had craved him since the first taste.

You could feel his erection prodding against your soft inner thigh. His right hand slid down your wet body to your cunt. You gasped, gripping his arms in shock as he assaulted your clit with his dexterous fingers.

You cry out against him, Your teeth scraping the skin of his shoulder. "Please Lucio! Don't tease me!" You beg, but the count just smiles and wraps his hands around your breasts and squeezes your nipples hard. The pinching makes you whine out and Lucio leans forward with a shit eating grin, his lips brushing your neck and shoulders before he lavishes the crook of your neck in wet kisses.

“Please!" You whine lowly again and the tone almost makes him lose his self control.

Lucio dips his fingers into your heat and You buck against his hand, fucking yourself on his stilled fingers.Satisfied that you needed him, Lucio pumped his fingers, making you cry but it wasn’t enough for you, you need more and he knows it.

His fingers move faster inside of you, a steady rolling motion that makes your knuckles turn white where they’re gripping the cool granite countertop. He knows exactly how to pleasure you, exactly where to touch you and get your wetness spreading down onto your thighs and down his wrist. It’s like he’s practiced for this moment, dreamed, prepared, and planned to have you like this. The thought makes you want to touch him to, to thank him and apologize for delaying this dream come true.

You wrap your fingers around his cock. It’s rock hard and you feel pulsating veins under your palm as you stroke him and nip at his throat. He leans his head back with a groan and shivers and shudders under your touch until he can’t take it anymore and he captures your wrist in his golden claw, the metal threatening to bite into your skin. He pushes his pants the rest of the way  down and steps between your thighs and you lock your ankles around him. You yelp in surprise when he lifts you up and carries you across to the table and lays you on it. 

You both make eye contact, panting heavily as his icy blue eyes gaze into yours before traveling down to where your bodies meet. You both watch as he holds himself steady and pushes inside you slowly, Lucio groaning low and deep when he finally fills you.

He leans down like he’s going to kiss you, but he just brushes his nose against yours and whispers, “You gonna stay with me this time?”

You laugh a breathless sort of laugh as you nod. “Honey, you couldn’t get rid of me if you tried.”

His smile is so pretty then, genuine and full of love. “That’s my girl.” He whispers, before finally starting to move inside of you. He pulls out with incredible slowness before slamming back inside, making you cry out, your lips twisting up into a relieved smile as pleasure sparks all over your body.

The feeling’s so intense after all his teasing, almost too good as he stretches and fills you just right, and sets a hard, steady pace.

You collapse back onto the table, elbows flat and nails digging into the oak as he thrusts into you with such power. You barely have enough time to figure out whether the four foot square table is strong enough for this because Lucio lifts your legs up to his shoulders and holds them there as he buries his cock into you at a new, deeper angle.

“Damn, you feel so good, darling. I can never get enough of you.” He thrummed against your inner thigh before kissing just behind your knee.

You began to speak, but his lips crushed to yours. In one motion he took hold of your hips, slammed them to his and leaned forward,folding you over so that your knees were just above your ears as he rocked forward. Your words were replaced by soft whimpers of pleasure. The feeling of her clenching around his cock made him smirk as he thrust harshly upwards. His magician did like it a little rough, and he could admit he liked that.

He set up a robust pace; his hips ramming into yours before he pulled all the way out. He repeated his pattern until you were both loudly declaring your pleasure for each other. The sounds of your coupling filling the room, the dining table creaking under his efforts. Your hips began to meet his, and you wailed his name so loudly it could be heard through the open kitchen window. But you didn’t care, and Lucio was so shameless that he didn’t give it a thought.

“Lucio, oh my god, fuck! I’m gonna come!” You grab for anything to steady yourself and end up with one hand on your breast and the other clutching the edge of the table. “You’re gonna, I’m, I’m…”

You scream as the pleasure finally breaks, washing over you and making her forget everything else but the feeling of Lucio inside of you and above you. He keeps fucking you, adding his fingers against your clit and you keep coming like you’re never going to stop.

He starts to move inside of you faster, keeping his eyes locked with yours until he starts to get overwhelmed too. He leans and lets his eyes drop closed, bracing his hands on the table so he can chase his end with the same determination he gives to everything else

You prop your heels up on the table and watch his face, moaning as the slight pain of overstimulation turns back into pleasure. You reach down to play with your clit, rubbing hard and fast and moaning louder as you do.

Lucio’s voice joins yours and he presses deep inside of you, curling over you and coming inside your womb with a cut-off cry that’s too quiet. His face is pinched in pleasure, lips parted, brows drawn together, and he fucks you through it with shallow thrusts that get you to the edge of coming again.

He growled as your inner walls clamped down on him. Your second orgasm pulling you both under a wave of satisfaction, his own following with a few jerky pumps of his hips. As he filled you with his warmth, you pulled him close into a sloppy kiss. Your bodies formed together, and you buried your face into his neck.

He stills finally and gasps, catching his breath before opening his eyes to look down at you. He laughs softly, still breathing hard as he looks around and sees the mess you two have made on the table, and the surrounding floor. A vase of flowers lies spilled over, the water dripping onto the floor where several empty dishes lay, along with a broken tea cup. But you both know that it all can be fixed with a little magic.

“Can we stay like this for a little while?” You questioned as his hands crept up your sides. They slipped down to rest on your hips while he pressed his cheek against your shoulder. 

“As long as you like, doll.” Lucio answers with a few soft kisses as a quiet crept into the room.

As always, thanks for reading!!! The finale is posted!

#when you're gone #asra smut #asra x apprentice #lucio lemon #lucio smut #lucio x apprentice #lucio x reader #lucio x mc #the arcana asra #the arcana lucio #the arcana smut #my writing #my posts #asra alnazar #asra the arcana #count lucio #lucio the arcana #the arcana lemon #fanfiction

[takaraphoenix]

Buffy Season 8: Review

It’s bad. It’s just... really... bad. That’s the TL;DR of this review. There was one (1) good thing about this season and that was the return of Oz. So if you’re looking for something that hypes season 8? This is not it. If you are confused, angry or salty about season 8? Hi, yes, me too.

Starting at the beginning. At first, I was really happy that they introduced more characters of color, with Renee and Satsu. And when Renee was then even “promoted” to Xander’s love interest? Nice. The two were even cute.

But no. That was all just the set-up to fridge her. Which, I am so very tired of that trope. And that is what that was. That wasn’t just a slayer dying during a fight. The entire issue of her death focused on her and Xander, building up to their relationship, setting them up for their first date, having her be prominently featured, just to then kill her off and have Xander avenge her.

What made it feel even worse - worse than just the fridging - was that they really had to fridge one of their very few women of color. And, to top it off, spend the entire issue in which she dies having her subjected to racism. Just great. Really, you managed to make an already shitty trope even worse. That’s impressive.

The racism itself too. Dracula. They just decided to make Dracula totally racist now, huh? and it doesn’t get a pass just because Xander points out in the comic that he doesn’t remember Dracula being this racist. Because he wasn’t. This Dracula just throws around slurs left and right in a way that feels more like the writers just really wanted to use slurs. Because the character? He was suave, charming, heck he charmed the straight men and the lesbians too when he was on the show. He was a smooth talker. This Dracula? He just... He was just racist and rude in general. Why.

Moving on from the racism to the next failure in rep. The gays. At this point in time I am simply convinced that Joss Whedon is entirely unfamiliar with the concept of bisexuality.

I know I’ve already made a separate post complaining about this, but it needs mentioning in the review of the season too. Having Buffy hook up with a lesbian twice, but #NoHomo, just a straight girl in her “experimental phase”. That’s just cringey and also offensive. Just... make her... come out as a bisexual? It’s not like the writing in the show hadn’t already set her up with quite the bi vibes.

Instead, the narrative made it sound like the only options would be to be straight or to now suddenly turn “into” a lesbian. Which is also offensive on itself, because - as this very show had proven on screen - lesbians can come out later in life and genuinely, I adore Willow’s arc. For her narrative, it fit to have her come out as a lesbian, the circumstances and her life fit for that. I absolutely agree that it would have been weird for Buffy to have a sudden coming out as a lesbian at that point in her life and after everything, but referring to it as turning into a dyke was just not great.

And lesbian wasn’t the only option. Though, I’m unsure Whedon knows that, considering that 6/6 canon queer characters are homosexual and 4/4 wlw are lesbians. They just keep introducing more lesbians - which, as a lesbian I am always in favor of more lesbians. However, when you have a very small number (2) of queer characters, it figures you can not cover all the sexualities and it’s even fair that even with two, you still choose to have them both be the same sexuality. But... the more you add? The more questionable it becomes that you limit it to one sexuality only.

This arc would have so beautifully set up for Buffy to come out as bi. But no.

And while we’re on the wlw; one of the things I always loved about Buffy was that the lesbians weren’t just there for the male gaze, they weren’t oversexualized. They desired each other, they even had sex. But... in a normal frame work, to a normal amount, meaning equal to how the straights were handled. I always liked that, because especially in early days, lesbians were usually just there to look really hot and have hot sex that straight men could get off to. Well, consider me very unimpressed with the comics, because... man are lesbians sexualized now. Willow gets a hot constantly naked snake goddess girlfriend whom she can only contact by - and I am not making this up - having an orgasm. So we prelude the trip by her having sex with Kennedy, before waking up all nude in snake goddess’ realm and usually having am makeout session or sex with her too while doing whatever business she has with her. So much nakedness, so much oversexualization. Really... disappointing.

Staying on the romance but turning to the other Summers sister, I truly can’t believe they made Xander/Dawn canon. Like, I can not comprehend they decided to make that a canon ship.

Sure, Dawnie’s had a crush on Xander since the literal beginning of Dawn. And that was... cute, honestly. Fifteen year old girls have crushes on cute older guys who are nice to them. Figures. Adorable. But she kind of... grew out of that over the course of the show? Or so it seemed...

And Xander. One of the things I loved about Xander was that Dawn was always a total no go. She was Buffy’s sister, heck, she was kind of every Scoobie’s little sister. He had always had brotherly advise for her. Heck, in this comic he points out that it’s weird since he’s known her since she was little - and yeah it is. It’s not weird when two people were both little together, but when one was sixteen when the other was eleven and one has babysat the other? That’s weird.

Getting infinitely more disturbing by the fact that she... literally... just turned eighteen. If they had put this into a rather later season, or a bigger time skip, had Dawn been A WomanTM for a few years now and Xander had gotten around to separating the idea of kiddo!Dawnie from the woman she has become, but Dawn is only eighteen, she hasn’t become a woman yet. She just turned legal to bang and thus, a switch was flipped in Xander’s mind, putting her on his radar. And just... no. Why.

And even beyond this decision; Dawn spends the first third of this season being slut-shamed in ridiculous ways. Which is also tiresome. I am the last person to defend cheaters, but there’s a difference between “You cheated and are being held accountable for it” and “You cheated so now you are cursed to be a giant, a centaur and then a porcellain doll for weeks at a time, being publicly humiliated and having control over your body taken away from you”. That was... sure a choice.

Moving on to the actual main problem of this season. The plot.

Starting with the incomprehensibly dumb idea of “hey let’s retreat to Tibet, put a huge target on Oz’s new home and get rid of all of our magic. surely that will not come to bite us in the arse when the bad guys find us”. Naturally, it came back to bite them in their collective asses. This was just... No one objected or pointed out how dumb that plan was? Really? No one? Really?

Anyway, let’s talk villains. And work our way up there. The return of Amy and Warren. Once again, I ask why. I’m still salty about the 180° Amy did from sweet Wiccan to wicked bitch after her stint as a rat, but having her now... hook up with Warren, the second biggest misogynist on this show, who is also skinless. She used a spell to keep him alive but she couldn’t... give the spell a color? Anything? Anything to not make him look flayed? Because this was just unnecessarily gross body-horror.

Not to mention the... lack of reaction? Sure, some spoke grumpily against working with Warren. But... this is Warren. The guy who killed Tara when he was trying to kill Buffy. There really should have been more breather-scenes of the Scoobies talking about this, digesting the fact that the guy was still alive and more so when they worked with him.

But nevermind them, because they’re working for Angel. Because Angel’s the villain behind this season. I mean, he was manipulated into that by Twilight, but manipulated means he still chose to do it.

Now let me preface that I might not ship Angel/Buffy, but that really only factors marginally in here, because this plot would be bullshit even if it were my OTP.

We now retcon the creation of the Slayers as not just being something dirty old men did in a cave, it was now all the greater plan of the universe. Which. Might have worked had Slayers been... naturally occuring. And not created by men, forcing this upon a young woman. Sure, what people do can be seen as the greater plan of the universe too if you will, but that seems like a cop-out that absolves bad people of their bad choices and deeds.

Anyway. The universe created Slayers and vampires and the ““balance”“ between them (which is bullshit anyway because 1 Slayer vs thousands of vampires... not balanced at all), including the now supposedly destined romance between Angel and Buffy.

Both get rewarded with super-powers now so they can super-fuck and thus give birth to a new universe. That universe is called Twilight and manifests as a burning, winged, green lion who can talk (because that sure is how I always headcanoned Angel/Buffy’s children to look like /s) and who, through time-travel shenannigans, has been manipulating Angel into his own creation.

The magic pull between them is so strong that it overrides the “Angel just caused the death of over two-hundred Slayers” so Buffy fucks him.

At which point I just... this season was flat-out character assassination of Angel? He was manipulated by the bad guy. Not controlled, manipulated. He caused the death of hundreds. He threw everything he stood for and believed in out the window for the promise of a paradise where he could be with Buffy, when the real Angel has chosen other things, higher goals, over being with Buffy over and over again, because that’s what they do. That is their whole thing, they choose the good of the world over being together. They have always been a “will they/won’t they?” where the answer is they won’t, because they know they are needed elsewhere, by others. But now Angel just... doesn’t care about all that anymore, or heck about his own son and his friends, ready to abandon everything for this.

And then when Twilight is born and consequently abandoned by Buffy, who still prioritizes her friends, family and the world over being with Angel, Angel actually... needs convincing in the abandoning? Because, again, character assassination. Ultimately, Angel gets controlled by Twilight and used to kill Giles and try to kill Buffy.

But thanks to the Deus Ex Machina of Spike dropping in in the final arc, they know how to stop this. He hasn’t been in this season so far, because - truly in line with this season - he was off being the king of a race of alien bugs, traveling in their space-ship.

To stop this all, they go back to Sunnydale, where of course the “heart of the Earth” is located, the seed that contains all magic, and destroy it, and with it all magic. Also, the Master was apparently always just there to guard that seed. He is now back from the dead!

Let me summarize that once more, just for emphasis: The universe wanted Buffy and Angel to fuck so they can give birth to a new universe that personifies as a green, winged, burning lion but before it can destroy our universe, Spike, now king of an alien bug race, delivers the solution to go back to Sunnydale and destroy the seed of all magic that is being guarded by a resurrected Master.

How do you read that with a straight face? How do you pitch that? This is just so incomprehensibly stupid.

We end the comic with Buffy as a waitress, hated by many, Xander and Dawn now have an apartment and are playing house, Willow broke up with Kennedy because she realized she is in love with the snake goddess she will now never get to see again, Giles is dead, Faith somehow inherited everything from Giles and she is also the designated Angel-sitter now.

#Buffy Season 8 #Buffy Review #Buffy the Vampire Slayer