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wheredafandomat · 7 months

Text

My Loki

TVA! Loki x female reader

18+ | contains smut - Quick fire rapid small drabble thing because ep 2 was hot 🥵 WK 700

“I have done some terrible awful things. Yeah, maybe that is who I am and he knows, she knows” Loki paused for a moment, glancing at you “it’s the real me. A loser. Always have been, always will be” he continued.

“Loki” you interrupted to no avail.

“And perhaps I’ve been holding something back. Perhaps I’ve just been waiting for a moment like this, so I can do terrible awful things to you” he threatened, stepping closer to Brad who’s expression had contorted into fear.

“Loki, that’s enough” Mobius tried to intervene but he was in a trance.

“Loki” you spoke authoritatively, stepping between him and Brad, snapping him out of his stupor as his almost teary eyes met yours. “No” you mouth, urging him to back down.

Taking a deep grounding breath, Loki turned away before storming out of the room. You looked over at Mobius who shrugged his shoulders before you chased after Loki, calling his name but he didn’t respond, he just weaved his way through the other agents, continuing down the corridor.

“Loki, Loki!” You yelled, following him into a locker room as he spun around.

“WHAT?” He exclaimed.

“Talk to me” you implored.

“You want me to talk to you?” He questioned almost mockingly as he stepped towards you, caging you between himself and the locker behind you. You tried to keep your breaths even as the familiar scent of his cologne evaded your senses, exciting you. “Hmm? Is that what you want?” He continued, using his thumb and index finger to tilt your chin upwards, his eyes boaring into yours. “You want me to confide in you, tell you what’s going on in my head, what I’m thinking?” He listed as he lifted your skirt up a little, pushing one of his legs between yours and stealing your breath away as he began rubbing his thigh against your clothed pussy. Your head fell back against the locker, eyes closed as your panties dampened. You practically purred when he undid one of the buttons on your shirt and began kissing your neck. “What if I don’t want to talk?” He uttered against your lips before you pressed yours against his, kissing him deeply.

Lifting you, Loki pressed you back harder against the lockers with his hips as you wrapped your legs around his waist. Using one of his hands, he undid his belt, pulling his trousers low enough to free his hard cock as he pumped it a couple of times before running it through your slick folds and guiding himself to your entrance.

“Fuck Loki” you murmured in his ear as he entered you before pulling out a little and thrusting inside of you again. His movements were fast, almost desperate as you moaned against his ear. You could tell this wouldn’t take long for either of you.

“I’m the villain y/n” Loki confessed between thrusts as he grunted “in his story and in yours”

“No” you insisted, opening your eyes as you looked down into his, your hand against his cheek as he slowed this thrusts “you’re the God of Mischief, you’re my Loki” you affirmed “not a villain” you smiled, Loki’s expression changing into something that could only be described as fond.

Pecking your lips, Loki sped his thrusts again, fucking into you with ardour as the lockers behind you clanged against the wall, the sound of both of you moaning filling the room.

“I’m so closee” you mewled moments before your orgasm swarmed you leaving you shaking as Loki chased his own.

“Fuck” he cursed, stilling his movements as he pushed his hips against yours, filling you with his warm seed as he rode out his high.

Once you were both sated, Loki placed you back down onto shaky legs as he pulled his trousers back up, simultaneously pulling your skirt down as if he knew you were both about to be interrupted.

“Here you are, I’ve been searching everywhere for you both” Mobius spoke, entering the room as you fixed your hair.

“What?” Loki questioned as Mobius’s gaze flicked between you both suspiciously.

“No, nothing” he dismissed, noticing your shirt button undone.

“Let’s go then” Loki gestured, walking past Mobius and out of the room.

Tags

@lokisgoodgirl @thenotoriouserg @chantsdemarins @donaweasley @xorpsbane @mcufan72 @loz-3 @evelyn-kingsley @sailorholly @lovingchoices14 @lokiedokiee @noideakitten @mochie85 @mischief2sarawr @lokiprompts @lulubelle814 @fictive-sl0th @peaches1958 @gigglingtiggerv2 @tmilover1993 @lyds247 @dustychinchilla74 @lokis-dark-queen @november-rayne @12-pm-510 @vickie5546 @newtomofgods @eyesbluelikethetitanic @lokiestorch @somewhereinthegalaxi @beautyb1ade @angelilacsworld @lokidokieokie @mushypork @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @silver-tongue-taken-to-bed

#loki x reader #Loki #loki x female reader #loki fanfic #loki (marvel)#oc fiction #loki fanfiction #tom hiddelston loki #loki smut #loki x you #loki x y/n #loki drabble #tva loki #tva #mobius #loki au

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straitjacketzz · 5 months

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doodle

#my art #furry #furry art #oc fiction #oc art #sparkledog #sparklefur #scenecore #rainbowcore

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a-kind-of-merry-war · 5 months

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KNEEL

Some of you may remember that ages ago, I posted some Hartswood short stories & snippets which were then deleted. Good news... they're back 👀

2.7k words, Rated E, contains semi-public blowjobs.

***

The inn was teeming with people, unusually busy for the season. Raff eyed the finer horses being led into the stables, and the carts outside the stone building. It appeared they had arrived at the same time as a retinue, a crowd of people no doubt following some lord in a long, slow march across the country.

He knew from experience that these sorts of parties would likely have sent scouts ahead to secure rooms for as many people as possible. The inn was only a mid-sized building, which meant a pair of travellers like them would be low on the list of people deemed worthy of a bed under the roof this evening. Even the shared quarters in the attic would be packed with servants, battling for space out of the snow.

They’d arrived with the setting sun and had both hesitated as they’d spotted the sizable crowd lingering outside the inn. They were far enough north now that recognition was almost entirely impossible, but a travelling southron lord could put them both at risk. For once, it was Penn who had hesitated on the threshold while Raff had shouldered his way in through the crowd, swallowing back the building anxiety and keeping his eyes ahead, focusing on what needed to be done.

They were in luck, even if his heart was pounding and his head throbbing when he finally made it back out to the courtyard where Penn was attempting to blend into the shadows. The retinue was travelling with a lord from the north eastern coast, a stranger to the county. The inn was indeed completely full, with every bed already claimed, but the owner of the establishment had listened to Raff’s nervous rambling and had offered them space in the hayloft above the stable for a handful of pennies and the promise to keep an eye on the horses.

That, too, was a stroke of luck. The stable was big enough for a dozen horses, but the loft above was tiny. It granted them a place to sleep and a little respite from the freezing weather, but more compelling was the chance for true privacy; a night undisturbed by the presence of strangers.

Penn visibly relaxed when Raff told him of the lord’s travels, uncrossing his arms and loosening his shoulders.

“They’ve no spare beds, though,” Raff added, as Penn bent to grab his pack.

“Typical,” he scowled, straightening. “He brings his entire household staff with him and leaves the rest of us to—”

“The owner offered us the loft above the stables.”

Penn fell silent immediately. “Did he, now?”

“He did.”

There was a brief, loaded pause. “Us and the rest of those dispossessed thanks to his lordship, I presume?”

“No,” Raff tugged his cloak tighter, and began to stride towards the barn. “Just us.”

After a moment, Penn hurried after.

The loft was mostly given over to the supplies needed to keep both the inn and stables below running and well-stocked; hay, oats and feed, a handful of crates, barrels containing what Raff assumed was ale. A slightly rickety wooden railing ran from wall to wall, the only thing stopping anyone working on the platform tumbling to the messy straw below, broken only for the space where the ladder rested against the high platform. The free space amounted to little more than a few square yards, but it was more than enough for two bodies sleeping pressed together.

Raff fettled about in the tiny space, throwing down their rolls and cloaks across the scattered hay to make a reasonably comfortable bed on which they could sleep, while Penn headed back to the inn, looking for something to eat. By the time he returned with a linen-wrapped bundle containing half a loaf of bread, a couple of meat tarts and a hunk of cheese, the space wasn’t cosy, but certainly better than remaining outside, and far preferable to the crush of people in the inn.

They leant against the far wall of the barn, the stone cold beneath their backs as they ate. Penn shivered a little as he wiped the crumbs from his hands, pressing to Raff’s side, stealing his warmth. Raff tossed aside the spent scrap of linen before wrapping his arm around his shoulders, pulling him closer. This alone was worth the night in the cold, musty-smelling space; such closeness would have been harder to indulge if they were sharing the room with twenty other people.

Penn was very close. When Raff finally forced himself to stand, Penn followed, wrapping his arms around Raff’s middle from behind and resting his chin on Raff’s shoulder, dancing his lips close to his neck. Raff stilled, leaning into the touch, feeling Penn’s breath tickle across his skin and his fingers sliding across his stomach to tangle in the fabric of his overshirt.

“I should find that lord and thank him,” he muttered, “for so rudely occupying the entire inn.”

“Would he deign to talk to a runaway servant?”

Raff could feel Penn smile against his neck. “I doubt it,” he breathed. “I suppose I shall have to give my thanks to someone more deserving.”

“And who would that be?”

Penn nuzzled closer against him, his lips brushing carelessly against Raff’s earlobe as he let out a shallow laugh. “One of the other servants, perhaps? Or the owner?”

Raff turned in Penn’s arms, tipping his head back to catch Penn’s mouth before he could say anything else. Penn sighed, tugging him closer, humming against his lips. In the cool, quiet space all Raff could hear was the gentle movements of the horses below and the sweetly tempting sounds that escaped Penn’s mouth when he kissed him harder, when he embraced him, dropping his hands to squeeze Penn’s backside through the fabric of his breeches.

"Raff…"

It was only a whisper, almost entirely lost to the air, but it ignited Raff’s skin, curling heat in his chest, flooding his belly. He gripped Penn tighter, intending to fling them down onto the makeshift bed he'd prepared on the straw, but Penn acted first, pushing against him and guiding him backwards till Raff’s back collided with the far wall.

Penn pinned him there, one hand coming up to cup Raff’s jaw and the other snaking beneath his shirt as he pulled back to look at him in the darkness. This close, Penn's height was even more apparent, and even though Raff knew from firsthand experience that he could overpower him, it was easy to forget that when Penn was pressed against him, crowding him against the wall, looking down at him with that hungry expression.

Penn kissed him again, deepening the movement, dragging the tip of his tongue across Raff’s lips, into his mouth. Raff made a low noise as he kissed him back, eager for more, his cock already filling as Penn cupped the back of his head, fingers digging into his scalp.

The moan echoed in the ringing space of the barn, and Penn smiled, finally dragging his hand away from Raff’s chest and lower. When his palm came to rest gently against Raff’s crotch, he found him hard in his breeches, and Raff couldn't help but thrust into the touch, desperate for more. Penn pushed harder, squeezing, flattening him against the wall with a smug chuckle.

And then - quite suddenly - the touch was gone and Penn was sliding down onto his knees. He knelt before him, his hands clinging to Raff’s hips and his lips pressed feather-light to the keen bulge of Raff’s prick.

Raff cursed, loud enough to elicit a series of nervous huffs from the horses below.

"May I?"

"Ah—" Raff could barely speak, "Penn, please…"

Penn made quick work of the ties, tugging down the woollen breeches and the thin underclothes beneath, releasing Raff’s cock, throbbing in the cool air. Now he had access, Penn seemed keen to slow, to linger, placing a string of light, dancing kisses up the underside of Raff’s shaft, his breath coming in hot gasps against his over-sensitive skin.

His eyes sliding shut, Raff placed his hand loosely to Penn's head, pillowed against the soft cloud of curls, fingertips twitching. Penn opened his lips against him, tonguing him in a single, slow sweep upwards, then - without a word - took Raff fully in his mouth.

God. Raff swore again, lost to the hot, consuming feeling of Penn's mouth stretched around him. It hadn't been that long since they were last together like this - less than two days, in fact - but just being near Penn made him desperate, every tiny touch sending him closer to the edge of his tightly held control.

Like this he had no control at all as Penn worked him, drawing him out, tugging him along a turbulent current that could only end in one way.

He gasped as Penn pressed his tongue harder against him with a stifled murmur, gripping his hair a little tighter, letting his own head knock back against the stone wall.

And then - ruinously - a sound. A sudden noise from below; the slide of the stable doors opening, the muffled thud of hoofbeats against the straw. Raff froze. Penn released his cock, but didn't move away.

"Penn—" Raff breathed, "We should—"

He felt Penn smile against him. He still didn't pull back, instead placing a soft, short kiss to the tip of his prick. His mouth was warm and wet.

"Shh," he whispered. “Wait…”

The hoofbeats were joined by voices, perhaps two or three people finding space for the animals. A stiff breeze blew up from the open door. Someone down there held a torch, but in their position pressed against the far upper wall the sparse light couldn’t reach them.

At least, Raff hoped it couldn’t reach them.

They were hidden: barely. It would only take a sudden noise - a choked gasp or even the creak of the wood beneath Penn’s knees - to startle the intruders and make them look up. The shadows should conceal them, the angle too sharp for them to be seen, but there was no guarantee, especially if someone below decided to climb the ladder to investigate.

That thought wasn’t as concerning as it should have been. It was late, and cold, and no doubt the people below were hurrying to stable their horses and return to the warmth of the inn as soon as possible. They wouldn’t even look up. They wouldn’t even know he was there, with Penn kneeling in front of him, his hands digging into his hips, his mouth - even now - moving slowly up and down his cock in a trail of maddeningly tight-lipped kisses.

Oh. They wouldn’t know, and that thought was more than a little thrilling. He pressed harder against the wall, feeling himself twitch against Penn’s willing lips. Penn seemed to know what he was thinking.

“Do you want me to stop?”

It was a near-silent whisper, almost entirely obscured by the noise of the men and horses below. Raff peered down, and in the gloom he could see Penn’s dark eyes shining as he looked up at him, but very little else. There was a clatter from beneath the platform. Mumbling voices.

“No.”

A soft noise - somewhere between a hum and a laugh - and then Penn took him in his mouth once more, lapping keenly against his prick, squeezing with his lips. Raff gasped, then realised what he’d done and flung his hand up, biting down against his knuckles to stop himself from making any further noise.

Penn swallowed him down further with a self-satisfied sounding hum that vibrated through his throat, enthusiastically working Raff with his mouth and tongue. He moved swiftly and rhythmically, one hand tightly gripping Raff’s hip while the other danced lower, cupping at his balls, twisting around the base of his cock in tandem with the bobbing of his head. Raff squeezed his eyes shut, focusing on keeping silent, on not crying out Penn’s name.

There was a noise from directly beneath them. A voice. The stamp of hooves. Below, an unknowable number of people were readying their horses for the night, preparing to return to the inn, unwitting invaders to the tight, private cell of pleasure that Raff and Penn had built around themselves. Soon they would be gone, returned to the dull crush of strangers while Raff stayed behind, floating in this feeling, knowing that as the moon glimmered in through the cracks in the thatched roof he would remain, wrapped in Penn’s arms; the only place worth being.

It was a thrill - one he’d never purposefully chased before, although knew he had often courted - the danger mingling with the pleasure, with the tightening pressure in his core. They could get caught. He didn’t care. He spent so much time stepping around the feelings and wants of others, but this time he didn’t have to, hidden as they were.

His fingers carded through Penn’s hair, careful not to pull too hard, not to push. Penn eagerly took him, a soft moan crawling up his throat, muffled by Raff’s cock between his lips. Somehow, he took him even deeper, repeating the noise, his hand gripping Raff’s hip tight enough to bruise. He was moving surely, confidently sucking and squeezing and - occasionally - lightly scraping with the very edge of his teeth in a way that shouldn’t have been good but sent shivers shooting down Raff’s spine regardless. Raff stuttered out a quiet noise - nothing more than an intake of breath - but Penn continued, either ignoring the sudden risk or—

Or encouraging it. He was challenging him, Raff suddenly realised, playing with him, pushing him closer towards crying out while forcing Raff to rein himself in, blind to everything but the building pleasure and the tight, iron control he was having to wield over his own body; his own instincts.

It was too much. The pressure spilled over, and he came into Penn’s mouth in a rush, hand clamped over his mouth, lungs burning, head reeling. Penn worked him until he was entirely spent and shuddering against the wall, one hand pressed to his face and the other loosely tangled in Penn’s hair. When Penn finally moved away, Raff’s cock was slick and softening, his legs weak. Below, he heard the mumble of voices again - the whinny of horses - and, finally, the heavy thud of the stable door shutting, a bolt closing.

With a moan, he allowed himself to slide down, finally able to breathe again. Penn shuffled up beside him, looping an arm around his stomach, pressing his head against his shoulder. Even that touch was too much, overwhelming him, making his breath catch.

“Raff?” Penn’s voice was quiet, slightly slurred.

Raff pulled him closer, burying his head in Penn’s hair with a bitten-off curse that made Penn laugh against his chest. He took a breath, calming himself, willing his heart to stop thundering so he could better appreciate the feeling of Penn laying in his arms.

His head was still spinning, full of chatter. We could have been caught. They could have seen us. I want - God - I want to do that again.

He kissed the crown of Penn’s head, breathing him in.

"You must do something for me," he said, ignoring the rest.

Penn shifted against him. "Oh?"

"When you seek out the north-eastern lord, you must give him my thanks, too."

"And does anyone else deserve such exalted gratitude?" Penn laughed.

Raff tugged him closer, dragging his hand down Penn's back, careful not to dislodge his tunic.

"Perhaps," he said. "But I intend to pay him back with more than pretty words."

Penn heaved himself up to better look at him. His eyes were sparkling. Even in the darkness, Raff could see that his lips were swollen, still a little shiny. He couldn't resist: he kissed him again, drinking in the soft little noise of surprise that Penn made.

When he pulled away, Penn was grinning. "And how do you intend to pay him back?" He asked.

Another kiss - brief, a promise of more.

"The evening is long," Raff said. "The straw is soft. And we are alone." He glanced over the railing of the loft into the darkness. "Finally.” He squeezed Penn tighter. “I am sure I will be able to think of something."

#one night in hartswood #paff #writerblr #OC fiction #original fiction #fanfic

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happyfoxx-art · 8 months

Text

An untitled oneshot featuring my dragon oc and his princess uwu

TW/ Blood, injury. uhh i think that's all that you should know.

this was a lil thing I wrote to shake off the rust! It's been a LONG time since i wrote anything with ocs. Let me know if you enjoy!

Alphonse was in trouble.

That much was clear, from the cluster of knights scuttling around the perimeter of the barn, yelling that they would be in soon. Blood spattered the dirt at Theo’s feet, painting the grass crimson. “We’ve got it cornered men- it’s hurt, we’ll be able to get rid of it for good this time!” the captain called. A log had been brought to try and break down the door. “Steel yourselves! It’s killed it’s last-”

“STOP!” Theo finally shouted, striding forward with a confidence that was almost entirely a fabrication. The Captain, to his credit, only looked startled for half a second.

He put a hand up to quiet the contingent of men. “Princess Theodosia, what are you doing here? Where is your guard-”

“My guard is- is in trouble. A man- a group of men tried to assault me three streets over- Alphonse sent me to find help.” She pointed urgently back towards the town. “He’s going to be overwhelmed, please. If- If the dragon is hurt I’m sure it won’t go anywhere while you go and aid-”

“Of course, highness,” the Captain agreed easily. He gestured and the knights started to hustle off before Theo’s wide eyes. “I can leave some guards-”

“NO!” Theo startled herself with her own voice. Deep breath, Theo. Calm, cool, collected. “I- I mean. No. That- That is alright- there’s no one here. Just- go help Alphonse, please. I don’t know what I’ll do if something happens to him-”

The Captain looked at her for a long moment, then settled upon setting the bar across the barn doors. “Alright. Stay out of sight and do not touch this. This thing has brought enough misfortune upon the kingdom. We will be back shortly to take care of it.”

Theo nodded very convincingly, her puff pigtails bouncing with the rigorous movement , giving a polite bow to the Captain as he rallied his knights and rushed off. Once they were out of earshot she waited all of 30 seconds before hauling the bar off the barn door. Pulling at the door she found it gave- the dragon must have moved further inside now. She sidled the door open and slipped inside.

The barn was dark, the windows blessedly closed to prying eyes. Theo wasn’t sure who owned this barn exactly, it could very well be on her family's land for all she knew. She hoped so. Less chance of getting interrupted again.

The smell of blood was strong, metallic and sickening. Spatters of it stained the wood at her feet, painted the inside of the door, showing that he'd used his body to keep it shut for a time. “Alphonse,” Theo whispered, edging forward through the dark. “Alphonse, can you hear me?”

In response she got a frantic scrabbling sound from the back corner of the barn. As her eyes adjusted to the dark, the hulking form of the dragon- of Alphonse curled into pile of loose hay became clear. The soft lilac downy feathers that covered his body were stained red, hay sticking tp him where he was too wet with fresh blood. His eyes, probably much better adjusted to the dark than Theodosia’s, didn’t have that hint of intelligence she’d learned to watch for. No recognition crossed his face even as she edged closer, her hands outstretched to try and show she wasn’t a threat.

A feral snarl loud enough to shake Theo’s bones escaped from his throat when he decided she was getting too close. She froze, trying not to shake. He wouldn’t hurt her, right? Under all the fear and pain, that was still Alphonse. That still had to be Alphonse. She kept still as she looked him over. This was the longest she’d been able to get a look at him like this.

Golden orange eyes stared at her down a broad muzzle, one side of his face plastered in blood. A cut over his eyebrow. A pair of autumn colored rams horns, curled elegantly around the long deer like ears on the sides of his face. They flicked here an there. Wicked claws of the same color as his horns, digging at the soft dirt floor of the barn, leaving deep gouges in the earth. Long feathers, almost like fur trailed from the top of his head down his spine to his tail that whipped back and forth in agitation. Darker purple marks outlined the lilac saddle shaped marking, and his feet, the rest of him giving way to a near white shade of amethyst.

A couple arrows stuck awkwardly out of the side of his long neck, but they were only bleeding lazily so they must have missed anything too important. Another arrow stuck out of his front leg- arm? - and a myriad of shallow grazes trailed up his shoulder.

Theo allowed herself a quiet breath out. It wasn’t that bad. He wasn’t actively dying, not right now. “They’re gone,” she whispered. “They’re gone but they’re going to come back. We need to get you out of here, Alphonse.”

Lips pulled back to show sharp teeth, a long slow hiss. Theo didn’t move. After a few moments of a staring contest, Alphonse snorted at her and turned his attention back to himself. Teeth parted to try and grip the arrow planted in his leg.

“No wait- don’t-” Theo began, but before she could get far the arrow snapped between his jaws like a toothpick and a cry of pain escaped. His attention whipped back around to Theo, as she’d moved closer in her desire to prevent him from making things worse. He started to move to get up, all his body language screaming stay away.

They froze again, both of them this time. Alphonse, halfway to his feet again, his wings held out to appear larger. His feathers puffing up, his teeth bared. Theo, her hands out once again, her chest tight with anxiety. They stood there for what felt like an eternity.

Theodosia slowly, slowly, lowered her hands. “We do not have time for this,” she breathed out, then took a step forward. Alphonse clicked alarmedly, skittering backwards into the corner further. “You are hurt. We need to leave. Now, Alphonse. Please.”

Her shoes crunched hay beneath them and finally the dragon jerked forward and let out a scratchy, terrible roar right in her face. His breath was hot with threatened flames, sparks at the back of his throat. Theo scrunched up her face and gathered her courage.

When he began to quiet, she drew herself up. “Do not shout at me! If you’d have listened to me in the first place we wouldn’t be in this mess! Now pull yourself together so your friends don’t come back here and finish you off!” she yelled back, her fists balling up.

She waited for him to respond, her eyes squeezed tightly shut. Waited for him to bite her head off or something equally horrible. But it never came. Instead, she felt the smallest nudge against her forehead, and warm breath ruffled her hair once again. Soft this time.

Theo opened her eyes and looked up. The darkness in his eyes had receded, thoughts overtaking instincts once again. He definitely looked confused, though.

Despite herself, tears welled up in Theo’s brown eyes and she grabbed hold of his muzzle, pulling his head close. “Idiot,” she murmured. “I’ll start by shouting next time.”

The journey back to the palace was simpler than Theo felt like it should have been. Clinging to Alphonse’s back, her fists wrapped around wads of the thick, long feathers along his spine, he’d ran through back alleys as fast as he could with his injuries. Finding a space in the orchards storehouse had been easy. No one was there this time of year.

Theo stood at the door once again, praying her dragon had not lost himself again in the time it had taken for her to slip into the infirmary and gather the needed materials. She had no idea what would happen when he turned back into himself. How would the injuries translate? The arrows piercing his neck concerned her the most- as a dragon he had a lot more muscle and space to have not hit anything important.

He didn’t have that luxury as a human. They needed to hurry.

The door creaked as it opened and warm light filtered into the small building. Alphonse barely fit into it, tucked carefully in on himself. She found him delicately licking at the snapped arrow in his arm, his head laid fully on the floor. He glanced up at her, and had the wherewithal to look sheepish at being caught in the act.

Okay, so not quite all there, but at least not going to bite at her for treating his wounds.

No longer backed into a corner, waiting for knights to execute him, the adrenaline seemed to be fading. He looked so tired.

Theo stepped inside, leaving the door open so she’d have enough light to work. She set the bag she’d brought before him, and kneeled in front of his large paws.

“Are you there?” she asked plainly. He clicked softly, and began to nod before stopping with a quiet whine. He closed his eyes and lulled his head to the side a bit, as if asking for her to get on with it. Theo let out a breath. “That hurts, doesn’t it,” she murmured, leaning forward slowly with gentle hands to probe about his neck.

He grumbled quietly, but didn’t move. She easily found his pulse, blessedly distant from the injuries. “They didn’t get your jugular,” she finally announced. “It’s just muscle.” A beat of silence, her hand pressed against his neck, feeling his pulse against her palm. “I.. I’ll do my best, Alphonse, but I’m not any sort of doctor or healer…”

A noise a bit like a hum. She pressed her lips together and went through the supplies she’d brought. A needle and thread, some alcohol, a knife. Bandages. Clothes for when he hopefully changed back soon but not too soon. They still hadn’t figured out what triggered the shift. In either direction.

“Alright, do you… want me to count? Or just get it over with?” she asked, holding up the bottle of alcohol. Alphonse clicked twice. Option two then. “Okay. Okay, okay…” Theo figured the ones in the neck would be the worst. In silence, she cut the arrows down to make them a bit easier to work on, worked herself around his long neck to get a better angle, realized she was stalling, and poured alcohol over her hands to hopefully keep everything clean.

The first arrow felt like an ordeal all on its own. Delicately using the knife and her fingers she worked to edge it out without the backwards facing bits catching, trying to ignore the way his skin twitched against her hands. Blood smeared across her fingers, painting her nails ruddy. More blood started to dribble out of the wound once she’d finally removed the head of the arrow, tossing it aside and pressing an alcohol soaked cloth against the puncture.

The sting, however, brought Alphonse out of whatever haze he’d been in, a sharp noise wheezing out of him as her jerked away, nearly causing Theo to topple off her feet. “Whoa, whoa whoa, stop moving! Alphonse- you’re bleeding-” she yelped, grabbing a fistful of ridge feathers near the base of his skull in an attempt to yank him back down.

To her surprise, he complied easily with the pull. He stopped moving almost altogether. She glanced up towards his head watching his ears flick in alarm, the feathers that weren’t slicked with blood fluffing up again. “Easy… It’s just me,” she whispered, replacing the wad of cloth over the wound to staunch the flow of blood and hopefully clean the wound. “It’s just me. I’m not going to hurt you.”

Alphonse let out a pitiful whimper in response. And if that didn’t tear at Theo’s heart. She released her grip on the ridge feathers, stroking her hand over the spot to try and smooth the ruffled feathers out again. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know.” He turned his head slowly, just enough to look at her with betrayal in his eyes. “I- I thought it was like a mane on a horse, don’t look at me like that! You’re just as new to this as me!”

Alphonse huffed, as if the comparison was absurd. Theo however, blinked a couple times. “A-Actually, hang on. I have an idea,” she said. She shucked her cloak as quickly as she could with one free hand, and held it out to Alphonse’s face. “You’ve seen the vets work on the horses, haven’t you? They- they cover their faces?” Alphonse blinked at her, his little dot brows pinching together. “It seems like it helps, you know?”

He quietly breathed out again, then shifted his head just a bit closer. “Is that okay?” Theo asked, moving to put the cloak over his eyes. He closed them in response and let her complete the action. Settling the fabric over his face like a blindfold, she gently pushed him away. “Stretch out again so I can work. I won’t do anything without saying.”

Alphonse made the quiet humming noise again, and seeming to have settled better (so it did help!), went still. Theo let out her own quiet breath of relief and got back to work. Uneven stitches that she talked both herself and Alphonse through went into the first wound. The second arrow, which seemed to stick worse than the first, finally removed. Another round of clumsy stitches, but the blood was stopped so Theo considered it a victory.

She cleaned the shallow wounds along his shoulder next. Informed him that she’d put bandages over them once he was human again- she hadn’t been able to nick enough to bandage him like this.

Finally, she moved to his leg. She looped a couple bandages around it above the injury to start a tourniquet. “This one I can do properly,” she muttered. “You’re doing great. We’re almost done. Lift your leg a bit?”

He complied through her instructions, breathing slowly but evenly now. When she loosed the tourniquet again, more stitches done (the best ones yet, by the way), she moved her hand up to one of his horns. “We’re nearly done,” she said gently. She didn’t get a response. “Alphonse?”

Picking herself off the ground, in her bloodstained dress, she stepped softly around to his face again. She pulled her cloak off his face to find he’d either fallen asleep or passed out at last. His face had relaxed, the markings under his eyes making him look permanently exhausted seeming to be more prominent now. Theo pressed her lips together and gently smoothed back the feathers that seemed to imitate hair along the top of his head. “Alright… alright, good," she whispered.

Kneeling at his face, she dabbed the blood off of his eyelid. Peppering the cleaning with gentle rubs of his head, she managed to clean the cut and most of the blood off his feathers without waking him.

Quietly, she pressed a tiny kiss to his brow. After setting his clothes where he’d see them and changing into a new, clean set of clothes herself, she sat down outside the storehouse. She settled in to wait.

The sun was down and Theo had lit a lantern by the time she heard the sound of human footsteps behind her. She didn't move from her curled up position, listening as he shuffled about. "Did the stitches stay put?" She asked, picking at a lose thread at her knee.

"They did," Alphonse replied. Relief poured through Theo at hearing his soft voice. "Though, I could admittedly use some assistance with the bandages, my lady. If that's alright."

Theo rocked forward and got to her feet. "I assume you're decent?"

"Of course."

So Theo turned and walked back into the shed, bringing the lantern with her. Alphonse was standing in the weak light, his tunic held in his hands. The injuries had shrank to remain proportional to his human form, much to Theo’s relief.

They got settled and Theo began wrapping his wounds in the weak light. "Do you remember? What happened?" She asked, winding the bandages round and around his shoulder and bicep.

Alphonse shook his head. His lips pressed into a thin line. "I remember… some guy trying to jump a woman in the alley," he murmured. His eyes were still the same bronze as his dragon form. The markings under his eyes remained as well as a couple trailing down his chest and shoulders. He took a shuddering breath. "Then… nothing for a while."

Theo tied the bandage off and then moved to inspect the puncture wounds. Just to be safe. "You don't remember… the knights?"

He jerked, looking to her with eyes blown wide. "They saw me like that?!"

Theo nodded weakly. "They tried to kill you. That's how you got hurt…" she trailed off. Alphonse buried his face in his hands, letting out a slow breath.

Fingers raked through his amethyst hair. "Did I hurt anyone?" he breathed out.

"Not that I know of. They said you killed someone but-"

"I killed someone?!"

"You wouldn't do that," Theo protested, taking his hand out of his hair. "You couldn't have. We'll get to the bottom of this. We'll figure out what causes this… you aren't a monster."

Alphonse stared at his feet.

Theo finished tying off the last of the wounds, light wrapping around his neck to cover the marks there. "Do you remember anything at all?"

"I remember you," he whispered. "I remember feeling safe with you." He pulled his tunic on and smoothed it out, being careful with his bad arm. "I mostly remember feelings, nothing clear. It's like waking up from a dream I can't quite remember. I know things have happened but I can't make sense of the flashes I do recall."

Theo set the supplies that were left back into her bag. Alphonse pulled his boots on, arranged his hair in a way to hide the bandages on his neck.

"How can you be sure I wouldn't hurt someone? How can you be sure I won't hurt you?"

Theo looked up, slinging her cloak back over her shoulders. "Because it's you," she answered plainly. "You'd never hurt me."

Alphonse did not look satisfied with this answer. "I don't think that thing is me." He protested, gesturing for her to start walking. They'd need to be home soon or people would ask more questions than they already were going to.

Theo hummed softly, knitting her fingers together. "It is though. I can tell. Its… you. But more open than you allow yourself to be as a man," she murmured. "I accidentally scruffed you and you looked at me like a kicked puppy."

Alphonse looked to go through the five stages of grief at great speed upon hearing this. His mouth opened and closed a couple times before he found words again. "You what?"

Okay, they weren't the most eloquent, but they were words.

Theo found a giggle bubbling out of her. "You weren't being a cooperative patient, it's not my fault," she defended. "It's you, Alphonse. A freer you, but it's still you."

Alphonse watched her back as she walked ahead of him. “A freer me?”

Theo nodded, glancing over her shoulder. “It reminds me of when we were kids, actually.”

#my ocs #the dragon knight #temp title #writing #oc writing #oc fiction #fantasy #blood #injury #dubious medical care #we doin our best

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krisnosura · 4 months

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This is a short fic on my OCs Gayatri Rabha x Nilmitra Goswami.

Riceball

The decades-old wooden door creaked, and Nil looked up to see who had entered into his room.

His eyes met Gayatri's, as she held a brass plate in her hands. Their gaze lingered for a few seconds, until Gayatri shot a feeble smile and neared him.

She hunched down and placed the plate on the floor, consequently sitting down in a criss-cross position, taking a few seconds to adjust her mekhela sador accordingly, right next to her best friend and, now, also her lover.

Nil's eyes were locked into her every movement, even after she sat comfortably on the finely-swept and dried mud-floor and began mixing the steaming rice with the tenga dali (sour lentil soup) from one of the little brass bowls placed on the plate itself.

"Damn. That's one fine ass meal today." He commented with a smirk.

"I know, right? And it's your lucky day because..." Gayatri shifted her face from looking at her hands mixing the food to meeting Nil's eyes. "You're having this fine ass meal today." And then she smiled.

That damn smile. It always made him fluster for reasons he's still trying to figure out. Perhaps it was how the muscles of her face stretched when she wore it, or perhaps it was the mysterious latent warmth of it. He was never sure. But he knew of the power it had on him.

Nil kept staring at her. And so did she. A few seconds passed this way, and she finally broke the eye contact as she raised her handful of mixed rice and lentil, and forwarded it towards Nil's mouth.

The latter looked at it, and then back at her, only his eyes moving. She smiled again, and raised her eyebrows that insinuated him to do the most obvious thing.

"Open your damn mouth, man." She chuckled, which consequently made him have the same reaction.

He did what she asked, and she inserted the rice-dal ball into his mouth. The entire time they kept their gaze locked at each other, none of them aware of it though. The entire world suddenly felt empty, and as if it was just them, all alone on this entire planet. Gayatri was all that was visible to him, at that point. The rest of his surroundings.... Blurred, entirely. It was just her face, her heterochromic siren eyes, that entrancing smile, and those subtle dimples that formed from it on her naturally blushed cheeks.

"There you go." The smile now changed into an ecstatic grin, and she finally broke the contact as she proceeded to mold another similar ball.

"Are you really feeding me right now?" Nil chuckled as he began chewing the food.

"What else does it look like I'm doing?"

Nil smiled as he kept looking at Gayatri.

"Also, you got a problem with that?"

He kept smiling, and studying her as she was focused on her second ball of rice and dal. She didn't get a reply for a few seconds.

"I love you."

And there she got it.

She smiled again. God, it was bewitching. Stop doing that, he thought. But even he knew he secretly wanted to get bewitched by it every second for the rest of his life.

"I love me too." She smirked as she met his eyes again.

"Self-love from Gayatri Rabha? That's rare."

"Yes." She sighed dramatically. "Like I said, it's your lucky day today." And saying so, she forwarded another handful towards his mouth.

He noshed it, and before Gayatri could retract her hand towards the plate he held it and planted a kiss on her rice and dal-coated fingers.

Her face went red but she managed to compose herself. She let out a cackle and so did her best friend.

"You're so cheesy sometimes." She shook her head as she said it, and placed her fingers back on the plate.

"God forbid a man from kissing his lover's fingers!" Nil uttered in a dramatic tone, as if he were in a play, and the cackles now turned into laughter, as both of them chortled while still trying to not make much noise.

This went on for a hot minute, until they both were able to contain themselves again.

"What were we laughing for again?" Nil almost chuckled as he asked.

"Do we ever have a reason to laugh?" Gayatri giggled, and Nil grinned.

"Fair point." He shrugged.

"But..." The Rabha girl's face gradually grew serious, while still wearing a faint smile on her lips, "I'm glad you're eating again." She fixed her eyes on Nil's as she uttered it.

Nil stared at her for like two seconds, and gradually smiled, followed by a nod as he shifted his face towards the ground.

"Yeah well... I'm trying." He pursed his lips.

Gayatri placed her left palm on his bony shoulder, now covered by the silvery white kurta he was wearing, her smile still intact, her eyes still undeterred. Nil turned back to her.

"Thank you.... For trying." Her voice shook a little as she said it.

The young Goswami returned a weak smile, as their gazes lingered onto each other again, their hands unconsciously trying to intertwine in the process.

#excuse the unnoticed typos ☠️#gayatri rabha #nilmitra goswami #gayamitra #ksa #krisnosura #oc fic #oc fiction #oc fanfiction #my ocs #oc stuff #oc #ocs #book oc

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nighttheneko · 4 months

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so like would anyone be interested in a story about a satyr lady who owns a bakery and is trying so hard to make sure her friends dont kill eachother in a friend way while also trying to make sure they dont get genuinely killed by other people due to their species

which is like super wholesome and funny at the start but devolves into just crying into your pillow as i overuse a bunch of whump prompts on the characters even though they kind of deserve it since you would know their backstory at that point

also i genuinely wont keep rewriting it this time i had to make this my new years resolution just to go through with it

which i'd also release on multiple sites btw not just AO3 specifically

#original characters #original universe #original fiction #ocs #oc fiction #oc fanfiction #my ocs

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space-writes · 3 months

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Romantic Snippet Tag

tagged by @cherrybombfangirlwrites, thank you! I decided to indulge myself and clean up a little Sorrow/Vren 5+1 fic I've had sitting around for a while, so please enjoy!

gently passing on the tag to @foxboyclit @serenanymph @eccaiia and @memento-morri-writes

Little Ghost (Affectionate)

Prompt: 5 times Person A calls Person B by a pet name and 1 time Person B finds one for Person A.

It had begun as an insult. Little ghost. As though he’d chosen his moniker all by himself, as though it hadn’t been bestowed on him by those that had come to fear the man they called the Wraith. As if he hadn’t wrapped that legend around himself like a second skin, worn it so close to the bone he'd become more ghost than man.

Sorrow was the only one who dared to mock it. Those who, at the start, had tried, had not lived to continue doing so, for wraiths are blood-soaked spirits. But then came Sorrow, glittering fool, calling him little ghost, taunting and teasing, making a game of his life. Oh, how he’d hated it. How he’d ground his teeth and imagined how sweetly a knife would slide between those ribs.

But now…

“Are you coming, little ghost?”

Sorrow looked back at him over his shoulder, one eyebrow cocked, the hint of a smile tipping the corners of his mouth, outline gilded in the setting sun.

“Of course.” Vren stepped up beside him, and the streets of Zhirasea swallowed them up.

“Get up.”

Vren tried to yank the sheets away, but now that Sorrow had gained the ability to sleep next to him, he had become possibly the most determined sleeper in Valloroth.

“Nn, five more minutes, avrai,” he grumbled, digging his claws into the blankets. Vren hauled again and this time had him tumbling out of bed, cursing in Infernal.

“We have things to do.”

Sorrow glared at him, shoving sleep-tangled hair back from his face. “You do them.”

“Get dressed.”

“Make me.”

Vren rolled his eyes. “Don’t start.”

Sorrow pouted, getting to his feet with as much dignity as a naked, nearly six-foot man who’s just been pulled from bed against his will could muster. “Sometimes you can be quite dull, little ghost.”

“One of us has to be.”

Sorrow could hardly catch his breath. He clutched at Vren’s hair as he devoured kiss after kiss, each one not nearly sating his desire. Vren’s arms wrapped tight around him, hands splayed over his back with a warm solidity that made him ache for more than sex.

“My ghost,” Sorrow whispered along Vren’s jaw. Stubble scraped his cheek as he trailed kisses up to Vren’s ear, sweat a sweet tang on his tongue. “Oh, my little ghost, you taste so good.”

Vren’s only reply was to pull him down to the bed—so easily this came now, when it had taken such fighting to get here. Still, he wouldn’t change any of it; neither he nor Vren wanted anything so easy.

He hummed against Vren’s lips, grazing his teeth over the lower and tugging to conjure that noise of half-pleasure, half-complaint he so enjoyed.

Sorrow was getting to like knowing just what kind of sounds his ghost could make.

“Do you think you’ll ever go back?”

Sorrow didn’t look at him when he asked, just shifted up the balcony to let Vren join him. Kashoskalya sprawled out below them—dangerous, to have a Mohaadi assassin in the heart of the Draconic Empire, but no-one knew either of them were here, and Sorrow intended to keep it that way for as long as he could.

“That is a complicated quetion,” he said.

“You are an irritatingly complicated man.” Vren leaned against him, shoulder pressing to his. Sorrow smiled.

“I like to think it’s endearing.”

“You always did have a ridiculous opinion of yourself.”

Sorrow chuckled and set his arm around Vren’s shoulders, a pleased warmth flushing him when Vren accepted it, shifting even closer. Go back to Infernus? Why would he want to when that meant returning to endless pulsing pain, and the constant reminder of who and what had caused it. His free hand came to his chest, idly scratching at the starburst of scars there.

“I might,” he said at last. “I expect I will miss it too much to stay away all the rest of my life. But…” he hesitated, as he often found himself doing when approaching this subject. Vren waited, silent. Ash and smoke, he was growing to love that silence.

“But if I go back, I will be going alone, yes?”

“Perhaps.”

“Oh?”

“Someone has to keep you in line.” He could hear the wry smile in Vren’s voice, and the pleased warmth purred in his ribs.

“Typically that is Aspiration’s job.”

“Well, now it’s mine.”

Sorrow looked at him now, at the strong profile of his slightly crooked nose, his dark brows, the burnished amber of his eyes as they gazed out over the city. He caught Vren’s chin, turning it to him.

“You always find ways to surprise me, little ghost,” he said, and kissed him.

Vren had never though he’d ever enjoy watching someone sleep. Yet here he sat with Sorrow’s head in his lap, listening to his soft breath, still quietly amazed that it had happened. It had taken so long for Sorrow to be able to fall asleep with someone else in the room without the application of extreme exhaustion to force him into it—having him here now, so close, so calm, so trusting…

It wasn’t exactly something Vren thought he deserved. Here he sat, though, enjoying the feel of the hand curled over his knee, and the occasional tap of a tail against his calf. What has this idiot done to me?

Sorrow made a brief, tight noise in the back of his throat. His hand tensed, just slightly. That was enough. Vren ran a hand through his hair as the nightmare came on.

“Wake up,” he murmured. “Come on—last time you took a chunk out of my leg, you prickly bastard.”

Another tight, pained noise; brows drawing down, lips pressed thin with unconscious terror. Vren laid his hand over Sorrow’s, forcing the tense fingers apart to admit his own.

“Wake up, Sorrow.”

At the sound of his name, Sorrow’s eyes shot open and he gasped awake. Short, sharp breaths blew hot against Vren’s leg before he pulled himself together enough to sit. He had that slightly lost, slightly angry expression that always came with the nightmares. An old, helpless rage tempered with a humiliation he couldn’t quite rid himself of.

“Thank you, avrai,” he said, voice rough-edged. He cleared his throat, shaking his head. “Ash and smoke, I wish I were rid of them.”

Vren tugged his arm, and Sorrow fell easily against his chest with a sigh. He couldn’t take the nightmares from him, but a part of him liked that he could at least keep them from consuming him as much as they once had. Truth be told, it scared him how much he considered it almost a responsibility now to draw Sorrow from the sleeping terrors that came for him more nights than not.

“Thank you,” Sorrow whispered again. “My little guardian ghost.”

Vren flicked him on the ear. “Idiot.”

“Your idiot.”

It was, for better or worse, true. And despite his complaints, Vren didn’t entirely mind.

+1.

Aspiration called him boss, and often idiot. The K’zinla called him Prince and sometimes boss too, if they’d been spending too much time with Aspiration. He had named himself Sorrow out of spite and pain and as a bitter joke at his own expense.

Those he worked for used his title now for the most part, but the Naazgaran nobles he dealt with tended to call him feral still, which he bore with a suitably feral smile. They could call him whatever they wanted—they were still putting money in his coffers.

Vren called him by his name. No title, just his name, along with reckless and bastard and a great deal more insulting terms beside, which Sorrow supposed was only fair trade for all the times he’d called him little ghost, even though by now it was more pet name than insult and both of them knew it.

Vren bore one of his usual scowls as he returned to their table at the small tavern they’d stepped into out of the late-autumn Invereid rain.

“Get your feet off my chair, ‘Ro,” he grumbled, shoving the offending boots aside so he could sit. Sorrow let him, blinking stupidly.

“What did you just call me?”

Vren shoved a plate of food at him. “Your name.”

Sorrow couldn’t stop staring at him. He ate in silence for a few long minutes before finally looking up, exasperated.

“What?”

“You…that’s…that’s not my name, no-one’s ever called me that,” Sorrow said, keenly aware of both how stupid he sounded and how aware Vren was of the fact.

“Is it offensive in Infernii?”

“I…no, but—”

“Then stop complaining before I call you something that is.”

Sorrow stared at him a moment longer, then shook his head and turned his attention to his food. He picked his way through the casserole, poking vegetables around as he turned the word over in his mind. Ro. How small. How strange!

As the rain eased off and they made their way back onto the streets of Hounhol, he came to his decision.

“I like it,” he declared.

“Like what?”

“That name,” he said. “I like it. Only from you, I think, so don’t go giving my mercenaries ideas, but I like it.”

Vren chuckled. “You are ridiculous, as usual. Do all infernii get so tangled up over a nickname?”

“I am not most infernii.” Sorrow slung an arm over his shoulder.

“That’s certainly true,” Vren said. “Alright, then, ‘Ro—where are you dragging me now? What foolish thing do you have planned next?”

Sorrow’s heart clutched with warmth. Yes, he definitely liked that name. Quite a bit, in fact. He chewed his lip in thought, then a slow, wicked smile crossed his face.

“Tell me, little ghost—where’s the best place to find a decent bed around here?”

fin

Valloroth taglist: @cherrybombfangirlwrites @memento-morri-writes @foxboyclit @lawful-evil-novelist @at-thezenith @morganwriteblr @fayeiswriting @serenanymph @sam-glade (ask to be +/-)

#writeblr #tag games #romantic snippet tag #original writing #fluff fic #five and one #original fiction #valloroth blogging #oc fiction #c: sorrow #c: vren #nicknames/petnames are my favourite thing in fiction. top ten trope for me #fox u know exactly what i am angling for :p #im still stupid about these two i can't wait to get back to them later this year #my writing

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ryuv1i · 11 days

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FIC FOR MY SNOOKI WHO DREW MY OC YUUKASRI KISSING KID!!!!

love it sm I can’t even express how much I love her.

TW: Nsfw, mention of blood, mentions of knife play yadadaddaada. Y’all are big guys you can take some cock and blood.

“AH SHIT! OI SHOKO YOU GOOD?!” You hear Heat yell a few yards away. You sat up and rubbed the back of your head. “Im good don’t worry!” You got up as Heat reached you. “I didn’t see you there my bad.” He apologised for knocking you over. “It’s no issue im good…”

Your voice shifted to a quieter tone when she saw her red haired captain storm out of his quarters, his features crowded by anger. He stormed past both of you, his intense gaze grazing both you and Heat before marching towards the gallery, his boots clanking against the hard wood of the deck as he let his weight on each step. The door to the gallery was slammed as soon as the captain passed it.

“…” your eyes remained on the wooden door filled with scratches and dents. Your posture shrimped (I FORGOR WORDS😭) before you regained your composure. The back of your head met with a slap from Heat who woke you from your ignorant state back to reality…

“Morning sunshine.” You rubbed the back of your head and turned to him with a annoyed look on your face, you were met with a smirk making you roll your eyes and flee the scene with a light blush of embarrassment on your cheeks. “YOU’RE STILL ON LOOK OUT TODAY.” You heard Heat yell from a few meters behind you…

With a sigh you made your way to the crows nest where one of the other crew mates just finished their shift…as you took your place in the crow’s nest you took out one of your knifes and started scraping a doodle on one of the wooden planks next to you. Kid would have your throat if he ever found out. How dare you ruin his ship with such stupid doodles.

As the day went on nothing interesting happened…the deck was a ghost town and the only sounds heard were the rare sounds of life on the ship and the water hitting against the outside of the ship…your chin now resting on the wooden railing of the crows nest…your eyelids feeling droopy…you drifted off to sleep..

A hour or so later you woke up, your gaze on the deck, but as your eyes came to a focus you saw the red head captain starring right at you. As if he caught you lacking off. The red hue from before making its way back onto your cheeks. In your head you were praying he wasn’t gonna come up here or you’d be done for. Happily he walked away…

After lunch, during the evening as the sun was almost beginning to set you spot a marine ship on the horizon. No one was on deck. Agh shit. You get down from the crows next and run into the gallery where you find Killer and a few other crewmen prepare dinner.. “There’s a marine ship incoming…!” Killer turns his head to you, you can almost feel that glare behind the mask…he put away whatever he was doing and walked past you along worth the other men…you followed suit…on the deck you were sitting around Quincy and Hip whilst they were all preparing for attack…you pushed the hair from your eyes and checked on the knives fastened to your belt…as the marine ship came in close the red haired captain stepped out onto the deck too…his face hardened…you managed to steal a few glances before looking out at the incoming ship…

As it came in contact Kid didn’t waste a second…he was on their deck in less then a second ready to strike down the vice admiral…Killer went along, leaving Heat and Wire in charge on deck…a few marines jumped the deck but they were easy to dispose of…but their numbers were a bit underestimated…you were busy slitting ones neck when you didn’t feel someone behind you…you felt a sharp pain in your back as you were kicked against the railing of the ship…but the marine fell down to the ground as fast as he kicked you with a gun shot wound in the middle of his forehead…you got up and carried on…

The battle was left victorious for the Kid pirates…quite a massive win as Kid found a direct log pose for Wano…a step closer to his plan to get Kaido’s head. Therefore that night a banquet would be held on the ship…you were sitting in one of the corners of the ship as you saw crew mates carrying crates of food and pulling some tables onto the deck…and of course alcohol…you were too busy sharpening your knives to care… “Buns’ your turn for the shower.” Quincy came and reminded you…damn her and that nickname..you stood up and walked off to the girl’s bathroom to take a shower..you discarded of your blood stained clothes and got into the steaming shower, hot water pouring onto your chest…you washed your body and scrubbed everything…ugh the feel and smell of dried blood on skin was horrible…you stepped out onto the cold tiles of the bathroom with a towel around your waist drying your hair with another smaller towel…soon discarding of both so you can put on fresh clothes…you walked out onto the lit up deck to be met by the smell of alcohol and food and the loud sounds of laughter and talking…you looked around for heat…no where to be seen..

“Here you go.” You heard his raspy voice from behind and it made you jump a bit…he stood there with a pint of beer…you took it. “Thanks.” You looked around…and turned back to heat who was already walking off to Kid’s table…great…now you gotta look like the weirdo sitting in the corner with no one to talk to. “Oi let’s have a drinking competition!” One of the men yelled. “Fuck yeah! Which one of you pussies can even try to beat me at it!” The red haired exclaimed. This was your cue to leave but suddenly someone yelled for you. “Hey mute girl over there hasn’t even participated in one of these ever!” One of them yelled after you. “Hey, come here Shoko! You gotta go against the captain!! You don’t do shit around here when it comes to fun.” another laughed and said. You turned a bit to look at them. “I’m fine..” you said as you were turning away. “AH—!! Hey! Put me down!” You were dragged to Kid’s table and sat in across from him…a large pint of beer set in front of you. “Well this’ll be easy…” the pirate captain scoffed…oh perfect…exactly the situation you wanted…a weird stare was behind that glare of his. Weirder then usual to be sure. “Let’s see if buns over here can even taste alcohol.” He played you…you were thinking for a second. Backing down would make you the ship’s hot laughing stock for months…but losing wouldn’t be a difference since no one beat the captain, so you stuck around…what did you have to lose?

No surprise you ended up with your head down on the table 30 minutes later…you only remembered half of it, the rest a blur…the next thing you opened your eyes to was the floor…you were over someone’s shoulder…still everything was blurry and you closed your eyes again…the next thing you woke your eyes to was the feeling of something on your neck…

You opened your eyes to be met by Kid…kissing your neck…a short pause and you woke up to your senses and pushed yourself away…then you realised you weren’t in your bed…nor the girl’s quarters…you were in his damn cabin. Your face was red of embarrassment and blush…you lowered your head to find yourself in only your undergarments…you covered your chest and turned to him. “What-?! W-What are you doing?!” You stammered as you held your arm over your bra…he was staring back at you with those aggressive Amber eyes…you felt as pray in front of a predator, his jacket and coat were gone and his hair wasn’t supported by his goggles anymore, as well as his red lipstick being smeared…shared across his and your lips “oh for fucks sake.” he grabbed your arm and pulled you back under him, your face fully flustered as you stared up at him…his intense glare meeting yours… his face mere millimetres away from yours…you felt his hot breath against your face…this moment felt like hours passing but it was just a few seconds..he lowered himself and crashed his lips back onto yours..he broke it after a few seconds and spoke against your lips. “I can’t fucking control myself around you anymore. I see you staring like a fucking bunny at me. I’ve been waiting for this too long.” He said before his lips pushing against yours again. His metal hand grabbing both of your wrists and holding them over your head against the mattress..his flesh hand on your back sliding under the strap of your bra and creasing your skin with his calloused fingers. His tongue pushing against your lips, waiting for you to open your lips and give him permission…as soon as you parted your lips even for a split second his tongue pushed past and entered your mouth…he wasn’t going easy on you. You were already pushed past your limits. Whilst his mouth was busy against yours, his flesh hand managed to unclip your bra and practically threw it off of you..that’s when he finally let you breathe and broke the kiss. Those predatory eyes now staring at your bare chest…his eyes glanced up at you, your own eyes filled with embarrassment and your lips covered in his lipstick stains…he looked back down at your breasts and his flesh hand started fondling with one of them. Squeezing it and playing with your nipples whilst you held back moans…he smirked looking at your face, you already squirming under him…he lowered his head against your chest and his mouth wrapping around your nipple…flicking it with his tongue, making you let out a moan past your lips.

You were in such a drunken daze that you didn’t even hear his belt(s?) unbuckle and the sound of his pants being tossed off. You got awoken from your daze when you felt his fingers press against the fabric of your panties, right on your wet pussy. His rough skinned fingers teased and touched your pussy for a hot minute till they slit under, moving against your clit. “Fuck…look a’ that…drippin’wet…” embarrassment along with blush mixed on your features. You were practically fighting yourself not to make any more noises, soft and quiet muffled moans and whimpers escaping your mouth from time to time, only feeding his grin even more. He slid two fingers into your dripping cunt making you arch your back off the mattress and grasping your knuckles till they turned white in an attempt to keep yourself from moaning his name.

But by the time you were flipped onto your knees, with your face against a pillow, with him sliding in and out of you with his cock you couldn’t contain yourself anymore this was too much. Too fucking much…you were moaning in rhythm with his thrusts. Your eyes rolled up into your head…your vision already blurry from the half drunk state you were in covered in black spots as he was hitting all your right spots. Your moans alongside his groans were a perfect match, a symphony. Hearing you moan and scream his name was as music to his ears. He’d listen to it for millennia. His flesh hand grasping your hips, leaving bruises behind his touch. “Fuck fuck fuck!” You’d hear him groan “yer’ fucking squeezin’ me the fuck out.” He grabbed a fistful of your hair with his metal hand and pulled your head back up to stare at your tear stained face, his smirk returned in a matter of seconds. “Look at you so damn cockdrunk. Fuckin’ slut.” He felt your walls tighten around him which made him eat that smirk. “Fuuuuckkk….m’gonna’ cum… oh fuckkkk…you’re driving m’crazy doll…” you felt a few rough thrusts hit your cervix causing you to scream. “Ah—..E-Eustass’…!!” With one final thrust he buried himself fully into you, letting go of your hair and weakening your knees almost making you collapse on the mattress if his hand wasn’t there. He shot hot ropes into your swollen cunt and kept himself buried in you for a few more seconds before pulling out fully, letting you collapse onto the mattress, breathing heavily whilst he enjoyed the show of his cum spilling out of you and sliding down your thighs..he cleaned it off with his fingers before shoving them into your mouth forcing you to suck and lick them clean. He finally let go of you after he watched you squirm with his cum deep inside you. He grabbed you by the waist pulling your back against his hard chest…holding you up against him with his flesh arm snaked around your waist keeping you close. “You did such a good fuckin’ job tonight.” He smirked against the back of your head before lifting the back of your hair and leaving a kiss on the back of your neck making you shiver. He pulled you close, burying his face into your shoulder and feeling his chest rise and fall against your bare back. Drunken from lust and alcohol you practically passed out. You fit perfectly cuddled against his chest. The next morning you woke up with the worst headache of the century…you balanced your upper half onto your elbow and turned around to be met by Eustass…with his metal elbow also holding him up but his chin resting on the back of his fake hand. Those fiery eyes practically burning through you. You stared back at him, a hue casted across your cheeks. He suddenly pulled you down with him, your whole body laying on top of his… “You’re stayin’ in bed wit’ me today…I got the worst fuckin’ headache.” he groaned and let his head fall against the pillow…

could you protest? No. We’re you going to? Probably still no.

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