#the one who waits x reader

[thegayestmferintown]

The Gods (all bishop, Narinder, and Haro) reactions to you wanting to pet them headcannons.

(You can decide the relationship vibes)

𝐈 𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐲𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐒𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫, 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐍𝐢𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 (𝐍𝐨𝐧-𝐒𝐞𝐱𝐮𝐚𝐥), 𝐩𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬,

𝐑𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩: 𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐜

𝐓𝐲𝐩𝐞: 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

𝐋𝐞𝐬𝐡𝐲

He... didn't expect that.

Just a little weirded out.

How could you possibly pet him?

Intrigued on how you would do it, he let you.

He almost immediately melted into your touch, and you could see his branches start to wiggle a bit.

Petting him on the top of his head, the 𝙂𝙧𝙚𝙚𝙣 𝘾𝙧𝙤𝙬𝙣 could noticably start to blink more.

The 𝘾𝙧𝙤𝙬𝙣 also started to have a slight hint of red tinting the sides, almost as if it were blushing.

Petting him under his "chin", would cause him to completely melt in your hands.

Keep that in mind.

If he ever gets angry, well, too angry, just give him scritches and he's putty.

𝐇𝐞𝐤𝐞𝐭

Oddly, it flusters her the moment you bring it up.

She's hesitant, and her blush never leaves, but she allows you.

The 𝙔𝙚𝙡𝙡𝙤𝙬 𝘾𝙧𝙤𝙬𝙣'𝙨 eye seems to widen, and seems to stop blinking.

It also seems to get slightly redder at the sides.

Either way you pet her, whether on her head, or under her chin;

Heket seems to get extremely flustered, and her eyes seem to look anywhere but you.

Although, to you, it's obvious she loves it.

𝐊𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐫

Kallamar immediately lets you.

As consistently anxious as he is, he trusts you.

Completely.

When you pet his head, the 𝘽𝙡𝙪𝙚 𝘾𝙧𝙤𝙬𝙣'𝙨 eye softens, and it has a slight aura.

The aura seems as though it's smiling.

Kallamar loves it, he nestles into your touch, and peppers soft kisses to the inside of your forearm.

Well, if you're alone.

He has a facade to maintain, y'know?

If it's under the chin, he seems to act as Leshy does, melting into your touch and is basically putty.

𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐮𝐫𝐚

You ask them while they're reading in their study.

Shamura cocks their head, but ultimately lets you.

"𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭?" They'll question, letting out a small chuckle.

Afterward, you pet them

And immediately, they're putty.

They actually fall over.

like onto the floor.

You both laugh about it, but you pet them again, and they just melt into the floor.

Needless to say, it's their weakness

(is it obvious that they're my favorite and the absolute love of my life)

𝐍𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫/𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐖𝐡𝐨 𝐖𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐬

He would immediately say no

A small hiss erupted from his throat as he said so.

After consistent and constant begging, be finally let you.

He purred, immediately.

His eyes became half-lidded as he nuzzled into your touch and nibbled at your hand lightly.

He'd lose his footing a few times, but unlike Shamura, he wouldn't fall onto the floor.

He would blink kind of like a frog, despite his half-lidded eyes.

𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐨

A gentle smile would appear across Haro's beak.

They would kneel down slightly, letting you pet them.

No matter which way you pet them:

Their feathers would fluff out.

And underneath their cloak, you could notice their wings start to flap slightly

Not enough to fly, let alone hover, but just flapping slightly.

"𝐈𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐧𝐨𝐰, 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐭𝐡? 𝐈 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐞𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐞 𝐟'𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬." (Is this alright, love? I thank you for the affections.)

They would hum, gentle and spaced purrs erupting from them.

𝐌𝐲𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐒𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫

It would huff, shaking it's head.

Both in disappointment and flusteredness.

It would mostly be flustered by the fact that it... didn't have any clue what you were asking.

But inevitably, it would let you.

It would shift one of it's eyes into lips and softly peck your brow.

The petting wouldn't really affect them, but they did like it.

Considering that it was a form of affection, it obviously liked it.

Well, it only liked affection from you, which is a plus, i guess.

#leshy x reader #heket x reader #kallamar x reader #shamura x reader #narinder x reader #the one who waits x reader #Haro x reader #Mystic Seller x reader #Mystic Seller #Haro #narinder #the one who waits #shamura #kallamar #heket #leshy #cotl leshy #cotl heket #cotl kallamar #cotl narinder #cotl shamura #cotl haro #cotl mystic seller #cotl bishops #cult of the lamb kallamar #cult of the lamb shamura #cult of the lamb heket #x reader #cult of the lamb narinder #cult of the lamb leshy

[luis-block]

How's about you pretty please do the one who waits with someone who is stuck between life and death so they often visit him

Warnings: he thinks you are a pussy at first

The One who Waits with a reader stuck in his realm

At first, he thought you were like an annoying pest, not able to leave the purgatory of his realm because you refused to accept his offer of a peaceful death. Thinking it was on purpose, he denounced you, calling you a shriveling coward just like his brother.

But you just tilted your head in confusion, saying you were fine with finishing the prosses of death. It turns out you had been in this realm before even The One who Waits was imprisoned here. The last god of death had cursed you to stay in limbo here, a punishment for questioning her abilities as a god.

As he talked to you more, he realized you both have more in common that originally thought. Both imprisoned in this realm for questioning the old faith and expressing different beliefs. He eventually starts to look forward to the conversations you two would have. Having another person to talk to besides Aym and Baal.

When the lamb eventually defeats him, he is not only mad that Aym and Baal are still in his former prison. You are also still there, still set to rot away there forever. That is unless the lamb feels merciful and saves you when he saves Aym and Baal that is…

#cult of the lamb x reader #cotlxreader #cotl x reader #cult of the lamb reader #cult of the lamb follower #cult of the lamb x follower!reader #cotl follower reader #cotl Narinder x reader #cult of the lamb Narinder x reader #Narinder x reader #the one who waits x reader #cotl the one who waits x reader

[randomanimaticse]

Cult of the lamb Masterlist

The Lamb

None at the moment.. try asking!

The One Who Waits/Narinder

None at the moment.. try asking!

Leshy

None at the moment.. try asking!

Heket

None at the moment.. try asking!

Kallamar

None at the moment.. try asking!

Shamura

None at the moment.. try asking!

Aym

None at the moment.. try asking!

Baal

None at the moment.. try asking!

Clauneck

None at the moment.. try asking!

Helop

None at the moment.. try asking!

Kudaai

None at the moment.. try asking!

Ratau

None at the moment.. try asking!

Sozo

None at the moment.. try asking!

#masterlist #randomanimaticse #cult of the lamb x reader #colt lamb x reader #the one who waits x reader #narinder x reader #leshy x reader #heket x reader #kallmar x reader #shamura x reader #aym x reader #baal x reader #clauneck x reader #helop x reader #kudaai x reader #ratau x reader #sozo x reader #x reader

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Hi it's me again!! I rembered my idea :3

So like, Narinder is the bishop of death and, putting it lightly, death is EXTREMELY SCARY. So when he's defeated and recruited, other followers are kinda scared of him. Then the reader comes along, and they don't really care. Death as a concept never really scared them so they're totally chill with Narinder. Also maybe like... he won't say it but it's nice having somebody not be afraid of him.

(Btw can I be known as Forgetful Anon because I will be back)

As Narinder witnessed yet another elder collapse dead near the shrine, he couldn't help but lightly smirk at the followers who gasped at the sight. Some looked terrified, other sickly, and a few were mildly uncomfortable as they wondered where their beloved leader was.

'How strange, they've seen countless followers pass on, haven’t they? I would assume they'd be desensitized to it...oh well.' He just sighed, deciding to go over to prepare the body for burial.

Nobody else could be damned to.

"Out of my way." He gnashed his teeth into a snarl as he pushed past the group, ignoring their terrified stares. "Get back to work."

Obviously, he wasn't the Lamb. So it's usually not his place to give them orders.

Yet...they obeyed him out of blind fear and left him alone.

Honestly, it was nice to still be feared and revered like the fallen god once was. The Lamb was gravely mistaken if they thought he’d be subservient to their demands just because they spared his life.

Oh no.

Death bowed to no one. 

Even in this semi-mortal coil, he remained the symbol of death--the inevitable end for every living creature. 

Every follower in this cult is well-aware of who he is. They should absolutely be terrified by his presence alone-

“You know, we usually bury the dead with their gifts.”

“By the Great Ones-!!” Narinder hissed upon hearing a voice abruptly speak, snapping his head up to see you standing there with a wheelbarrow at the ready. 

Almost instantly, he calmed down, his fur becoming less bristled as he laid the skull pendant back down on the corpse’s chest. “Don’t sneak up on me like that. I was just..checking for dirt and grime.” He made up a lie.

“We polish it during funeral services.” You mentioned, which only further annoyed him. “You’d..probably know that if you attended our gatherings.”

“Well I don’t exactly feel welcomed. Besides, I already know how your rituals go. I saw them all through the crown. And don’t try to tell me “it’s different in-person”. I would only disrupt the service by scaring everyone.” He honestly didn’t know why he bothered talking to you--or why you even approached him.

Were you trying to make him look like an idiot who didn’t know the rules?

“That’s nonsense. All our welcomed in Lamb’s temple.”

He ignored that comment, instead going back to wrapping the body in bandages. You then looked down at the skull necklace, smiling. “The skull pendant is truly phenomenal. The power to extend a life..it’s incredible, isn’t it?”

“Hmph..yes..incredible at only delaying the inevitable.” He scoffed. “It doesn’t change the fact that your mortal lives will remain short..ever-fleeting.” Pausing in his work, he gazed at you ominously. Tell me something, [y/n]..”

“Yes, Narinder?”

“..do you fear death?”

“No.”

He was taken aback by your immediate response. “Really now? Not in the slightest?”

“Nope.” You smiled. “It’s easy to be scared of it, but...I’ve always seen it as a natural part of life. Of course, it’s sad when I see elders die or someone I talked to a second ago being sacrificed or sent off..but it doesn’t scare me, you know? It’s hard to explain but..I’m just indifferent to it, I guess.”

There was a long pause as Narinder stared at you; his face was stoic but his mind was in wonder. Perhaps you grew up on that doctrine: to not fear death. He could very well see it in your traits from the moment you arrived here.

That would explain why you approached him so willingly.

Because he, the epitome of death, didn’t intimidate you one bit.

“Fascinating..but what if you knew your time was running out, and you still had regrets? What then?”

“I wouldn’t dwell on them.” You shrugged. “I’d just make the most of my life and die knowing I did my best.”

“...I see.”

“Yeah, haha.” Remembering the task at hand, you gestured to the wheelbarrow. “Once you’re done I’ll take the body to the cemetery.”

“..o-oh, right. Of course. So Lamb couldn’t handle the burden of carrying their deceased anymore?” He chuffed as he tossed the wrapped body in. “It’s funny..they would’ve eagerly sacrificed this poor soul if I asked them to...if only I still had my power.”

“It is a heavy burden. So I volunteered to take it off their shoulders. And I clean all the shrines and plant new flowers on the graves if they’re wilted.” You’ll admit that you took some pride in your duties. “Care to accompany me?”

“I have nothing better to do, so I suppose I could.”

There was not an ounce of enthusiasm to be found in his voice, but you chuckled and started heading there. “Well c’mon, slow-poke. There’s a lot to be done in this cult!”

Narinder followed you silently, ignoring the confused looks of followers who stared at you, wondering why you’re chatting with Death like he was a friend,

Because whether he wanted to admit it or not..you were the only one who treated him as such.

#clanask #forgetful anon #cult of the lamb x reader #cotl x reader #cotl narinder #the one who waits #the one who waits x reader #narinder x reader #tw death #platonic

[4kayz]

^

REQUESTED BY: anonymous

CATEGORY: angst w/ comfort short story

WARNINGS: blood/gore, kinda angsty

SUMMARY: You are the witness of death itself, and shortly after your master had been exiled to his domain, the cultists came looking for you, to slaughter you and put an end to Narinder's cult once and for all. You manage to escape until thousands of years later, you are caught by a patrol of said cultists. Fortunately, a certain Lamb from a prophecy saves you before the cultists could lay a finger on you.

PAIRING: narinder/reader

SETTING: first half is in Anura, second is in The Lamb’s cult

<>

You dashed through the uncomfortably hot, sweltering, plains of Anura, bleeding from several deep, painful, stab wounds on your back. You sliced the prairie grasses out of your way with your thorn-sharp dagger and continued your sprint through the mainlands. The grasses you sliced away had cut your arms and legs, causing an awful stinging pain that only worsened the condition you were in, but despite it all, you pushed on, determined to survive.

The followers didn't give up either, swinging their weapons and yelling out curses and insults, picking up their pace to match yours. You slid down a dip in the fields and forced yourself up, nearly slipping because of the sweat drenching your hands. You didn't know if you could carry on much longer, your senses were overwhelmed with a gut-wrenching pain that was almost too much to bare.

Several of the cultists dropped down onto the ground because of exhaustion and others lagged behind, giving you a chance to throw them off your tail. You turned your heel and jogged to your left in hopes that they'll stop following you.

You had been on the run for centuries after Narinder had been sealed to his realm, and as his loyal witness, you vowed to him that you would run away and find some way to bring him back so that you two could be reunited once again. Of course, it was going to be a difficult task to slay a bishop, but Narinder wasn't giving up, so why would you?

You ran a corner, and slid to a stop, almost falling off the ledge of one of the many valleys in Anura. Several armed cultists made their way toward you and cornered you, unsheathing their blades and yelling nonsense. You took the time to ready your bloodied blade in case they came any closer. You were confident you weren't going to survive this, when you finally took notice of how many were gathered around you. You were certain this was the end for you and Narinder's gospel.

You glared daggers at the cultists and awaited their attack, spreading your legs to keep balance and slicing the air with your dagger to warn them off and tell them that you weren't to be messed with. Of course, none of them backed off and only came closer, you were cornered and you had no way out. You braced yourself, ready for the final, finishing, blow.

But nothing came.

A flash of fluffy, white, wool was all you could see, slashing and rolling into several of the cultists, wielding a sword, slaying all the followers until none were standing, and in a matter of seconds, every last one of them was gone. Their blade turned into a crown, that sat firmly atop their head as they spread their hand over to shake yours, in which you did.

The crowned lamb must be one of Narinder's vessels, this was yet another chance to finally free the chained god, once and for all.

The Lamb gave you a short tour of their cult, a few of their followers coming up to welcome you into the cult, and upon your indoctrination, you immediately started helping The Lamb out with their various tasks and even offered to assist them in combat ( in response, they declined, in fear that you'll get killed ).

You ended up serving as a second in command for the cult and taking over whenever The Lamb has to go out on a crusade. You made sure nobody was dissenting and disobeying orders while they were gone.

As each bishop fell before The Lamb, the closer you got to seeing Narinder again.

#aspen writes #cult of the lamb x reader #cotl x reader #narinder x reader #the one who waits x reader

[sublieu]

synopsis: You'd look so pretty sitting on my thighs, angel. Would it affect you if I started to bounce it? Get all shy and embarrassed cause it feels good, doesn't it? Go ahead, use my thigh to get off while I sit and watch you become a whiny mess

references: ⚉ ⚆ ⚇

word count:

cont.warning: Manipulation, coercion, dubcon/noncon, cheating whilst married, revenge sex, most lap fucking

mutuals/friends: @mortal-mayhem @zmzsnakes

recommended music: Don't by Bryson Tiller

×- Narinder (The One Who Waits) using you as his outlet for being power hungry after he was forced to become a lowly cult member If he can't control them, he'll have to control you, instead. -@mortal-mayhem

┆"All creations/edits belong to ©𝐒𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐮 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑; 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐑𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐑𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝"┆

Narinder always loathed being a feeble cat under the lamb's rules, watching as the followers that originally belonged to him love and adore his once apprentice. Getting up to go to his tent before bumping into you.

"Oh! my apologies Narinder, here! take a cookie as an apology!"

You gifted to the frowning god with one of your recently baked cookies from the basket, only a few of the warm treats were laid out on the ground, essentially spoiling them. With him staring at the cookie in his hand before taking a small bite, his mouth watering the more he ate till it was completely gone; Having you chuckle and hand him another before petting his head and walking off to your leader to hand him a cookie as well.

As much as Narvinder hated admitting, he just can't help when you act so kindly towards him especially. Getting a hard-on and running off before anyone could spot him to finish his business.

The next day arrived, Lambert was heading off to run some errands and bring gifts to his married and followers, gifting him perfect enough time to engage in his plan as he's been training his magic in secret; Immediately running off to test it out on you.

He enters your hut to spot you taking off your clothes and getting ready for bed, drying off your fur before turning around and seeing him in your doorway.

"Hi Narv! Uh, what brings you here? I'm kinda busy doing something..."

You trail off when seeing him enter and lock your door, worry evident on your face as you tie your towel and back away from him before the candle blew out, hearing his footsteps quicken as you attempt to see in the dark to evade him; Until the lights came back on with him standing above you and you on the floor, your towel untied and showing your naked body to the cat.

"N-narinder... why are you-" Your voice stop as he stares into your eyes, his red and black eyes hypnotizing you, as if he's lulling you to sleep with just his eyes alone.

"Y/n? can you hear me?" "uh..huh?" you hazily reply to his question, your eyes changing color to copy his own as he responds further. Your body going limp and leaning onto the wooden boards of your hut for support. With you paying attention to him by his claws gently holding your chin.

"You are my servant, however, we have a certain lamb that thinks he's our leader. Follow his rules and act normal around this foolish lump of meat and I will reward you greatly...understood?" He continues as he places a finger on your plump lips before kissing you, making sure it imprints as he watches your eyes form a similar appearance to his before fading to your normal eye color; With you blinking and your null face, you reply by shaking your head before he lifts you up and puts you on your bed.

Before he leaves however, he fixes up your room so it doesn't look like a mess as it was before and locks your door. Making you fall asleep shortly after as the night slowly fades to morning.

You wake up and yawn before scratching your head, entering your bathroom you saw that your eyes were the same color as Narv, even the eye structure as well before rubbing them and seeing them back to normal.

"I must be seeing things.." You mutter and wash your face before entering your shower to freshen up and start the day, already in the fields and helping to pick berries, wheat and placing them in storage until you heard your name being called by the lamb as he ran up to you to give you a gift.

"I see you've been working hard y/n" He coos and holds your cheek in his hand, kissing your forehead as your tail wags with excitement. He was always this kind towards you, even though you never really returned the favor. As he was your beloved husband.

Lambert gifts you a necklace he got from one of his raids, the beautiful piece of jewelry looked rather expensive, possibly enough to buy off a whole eight buckets of meat, which were difficult to come by.

"It's for you, I thought you'd might like it since I found the stone on a raid" He smiles and kisses you sweetly, although you didn't respond, the way how your tail wagged he could tell you were very happy with his gift before going on to preach about another topic. Narvinder showing up behind you and holding your waist.

"What did he give you?" "It's just a necklace." You respond and followed him to his hut, his hand still holding onto your waist before opening the door and guiding you inside; You sit on the bed and await more of his questions as he sat down behind you.

"Did you get any info from him?" "No sadly, all he does is plant and marry off villagers" You'd huff and take off the necklace and cast it aside, Narvinder looks beside him and questions you as to why you took it off. But from the steam blowing out of your nose and your eyes casting away from him, he could read that you were jealous, if not enraged.

"How many times has he done this to you, dear?" He asks and holds onto your waist before kissing your neck, his hand pressed at your abdomen, unsure if he should make a move or not. "More than nine times, and he spends more time with that bitch Amoure." You hissed just by saying that wretched goat's name. He was surprised, and turned on by the fact that you were jealous and enraged with the lamb. Your hatred for him fueled him, gifting him a noticeable amount of energy.

"Tell me how angry Amore makes you." He whispers and watches your face twist from anger, hearing you curse the poor goat and your 'husband' out was supplying him with even more energy as he purrs uncontrollably. But you were too enraged to even process what the hell he was doing before you felt his boner pressing on your back; Turning around and feeling what that poking was before standing up, with Narvinder pulling you back.

"What's the matter angel?" "Narv, I'm married." You mutter and try to get him to let go of you, only for him to turn and put your under him, face to face and seeing his flushed state, with him between your legs.

"When are you going to stop letting him ruin your relationship? It's pretty obvious he doesn't care about you like I do..." He replies softly, his eyes formed into little hearts as he kisses your neck and chest. Leaving you gasping and looking away, with no response to his statement.

"Bu-but-" "Don't make excuses for a measly lamb who can't even be devoted to your marriage as you are to his, He betrayed me too.."

He stops you midsentence, his head pressed against yours and his claws holding on your waist. Staring daggers into your soul to read what excuse you were planning for the lamb, only to be met with your eyes trying to avoid his gaze.

"Use me as a means to get back at him, I promise to treat you ten folds better than that degenerate cult leader ever will" He whispers to your one last time, his pleads finally met as your hands held his cheeks, with him rubbing his face on your hand when you respond with a yes.

He thanks you before kissing you, his hands lifting you up and carry you to his bedhead, letting you sit on his lap as your hands were stuck in his fur before gently pushing him away as the saliva trailed from your lips and onto your chest, with him tearing and ripping off your dress and he lies you back down on his bed again; Going behind him for his pillows to rest your head on as you wrapped your legs around him.

"Want me to try and keep it down?" "No, I want Lambert to hear."

He was left shocked but chuckling in your chest, pulling off your panties and throwing them aside as he took off his cloak, leaving you to trace down his chest to his abdomen before caressing his ribbed cock. His breath hitched in his throat when you pulled it out and started stroking as his ears twitched. Letting him groan pleasurably, as his purrs grew louder.

He traces down to your abdomen with his claw, an imprint on your belly before pulling you up to his crotch. The tip of his cock pressed between your folds as you share another kiss with the demon, questioning whether or not to back out before it became too late; But you were growing sick of his obvious and open flirting, plus he slept with her so you shouldn't even feel bad for doing this.

Narv slowly pushed the tip inside as he hushes you, knowing his size he tries not to hurt you as he gently pushes more in. Only half of the base outside as he kissed away your tears.

"There there my love, you're taking me so well, think you could handle more?"

He ushers as he holds your tummy, you tried to say yes but it only came out in whimpers, hence you shook your head yes, sitting back up and gently pulling you to the hilt before his fur fuzzes up. Narvinder's eyes rolling to the back of his head from the tight fit and thrusting slowly.

The low, wet plapping alongside your moans were the only thing you both were focusing on, alongside his cock pressing at spots you've never felt before with Lambert, feeling even the veins of his dick press at your dark pink walls as you moaned in bliss.

And he was enjoying every bit of the sight, watching you intensely and focusing on your pleasure, his eyes turning back into hearts as he holds you close whilst thrusting deep, hard thrusts in your pussy; Cursing under his breath everytime you suddenly clench around him.

"Why would anyone ever cheat on a pussy like this oh my stars.."

He groans as he lifts up your legs to put on his shoulder, dragging a pillow and putting it under your back to get you more comfortable while he's breeding you; His ears flicked when he heard an all too familiar voice right at his front door, a toothy grin at his lips when he realized another person was there with him. Thrusting to make sure it was loud and wet, feeling your climax coming when the tip went past your cervix and deep inside your womb. Your claws digging into his flesh and your teeth on his shoulder, possibly enough to draw blood.

His fingers rubbed your clit as he thrusts more, feeling his climax coming as well. Cooing at how you greedily basked into this pleasure, holding your head and sitting down fully so you were sitting on his lap. Bouncing on his dick and staring back at him as tears of pleasure run down your cheeks

"Gonna cum for me angel? Wanna leave your imprint on my dick to tell everyone I'm yours?"

He whispers in your ear as he watches his door crack open a little, watching Amoure as he thrusts up into you, your legs giving out after bouncing, muttering his name as he bites down on your neck. Marking you as his as he cums deep inside, with you shortly cumming as well and pushing his cock out of you as it leaks more cum on his sheets; His and your juices dripping from your legs and onto his lap as you relaxed, with him resting you on his bed and kissing your forehead before going outside and seeing her head leave from the door crack. Already expecting Lambert to be outside as he prepared for a earfull.

As you slept, you couldn't help but hear two people arguing outside Narvinder's door, draping on on of the cat's cloak and walking outside to see Amoure on the ground, Narvinder's handprint on her face and him and the Lamb arguing.

"HOW FUCKING DARE YOU SLEEP WITH MY WIFE" "I dunno, a god you not only betrayed, and you were cheating on HER so of course we wanted to get back at you and by the way I smelled your goat slut and SHE HAS AN STD"

Narvinder cusses the lamb before pushing him out of his face, evidently breaking out a fight as Amoure cried. You couldn't help but laugh at her misery before walking up to her and spitting on her face.

"Enjoy fucking Lambert, if you want to sleep in his tent be my fucking guest cause I'm not going back to that man-whore"

You laughed and walked away, taking the necklace he gave you and throwing it on her broken horn and going to the river for a shower. Things are gonna be very different for you from now on, but you couldn't careless.

©𝐒𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐮 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑; 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐑𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐑𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝

#I honestly think I fucked up the ending #narvinder x reader #cult of the lamb toww #the one who waits x reader #cotl narinder #cotl x reader #cotl smut #cult of the lamb smut #cult of the lamb x reader

[cult-of-romance]

heyaa!

may I request a The one who waits x reader smut? ( I’m 19 )

( discard this request if it makes you uncomfortable! <3 )

(Need more to go off of anon)

#Devout follower (anon) #cotl the one who waits #the one who waits x reader

[harbingersglory]

hii could i req an soft dom arlecchino x sub/fem reader?? something w a really needy whiny reader n maybe like a mommy kink or thigh riding IDK tysm for ur time !

{☆} characters arlecchino {☆} notes drabble, fem reader, sub reader {☆} warnings 18+ content

"Slowly, doll. We're not in a rush." Arlecchino reprimands lightly, squeezing your hips with just enough force to keep you unmoving on her thigh– she was still being gentle, but the subtle warning in her tone spoke to how easily she could push you against the desk and turn you into such a mess that you couldn't even remember your own name..just that you were hers.

But the barest hint of stimulation from her slacks pressed against your throbbing cunt had you twitching, barely able to form words. All you could think about was the scorching, twisting need building in your stomach, desperation for relief slowly climbing until you'd think she was doing this on purpose to drive you mad.

"Please– 'm a good girl, right? I've been good.." You choked out, only to be met with the rough, husky laugh echoing in your ear that made you feel dizzy with a rush of need, her nails gliding along the skin of your hips as she pressed you down even more firmly– you couldn't see her face but it was easy to imagine the crooked smile twisting her lips at the way you inhaled sharply and tried to buck against her thigh.

"Shh. I know, doll. I've got you, just relax." She murmured in that sickly sweet tone that always had your knees buckling, the raspiness of her voice sending shivers down your spine. It was almost impossible to relax with her so close, the notes of metal lingering on her skin despite how well she presents herself– but you trusted her, despite how you know you shouldn't.

"There we go. Good girl." Arlecchino's grip on your hips loosened just enough for you to move if you so wished, and oh did it take every ounce of restraint to not do just that..she hadn't said you were allowed to, and you weren't about to spoil her good mood by being a brat. Not tonight, anyway. "Do you want to cum, doll?"

The fervent nod you offer in place of words draws a laugh from her lips, one that is almost mocking, making your face flush in embarrassment– but the sudden tap against your hip makes your mind go blank to the point you forget it all together, focused only on the feeling of her thigh rubbing against your cunt as you bucked against her thigh, the fabric slick and wet against your inner thighs. You'd have half the heart to be embarrassed about that, too, if not for the sudden brush of her thumb against your aching, neglected clit. Just that small touch has you speeding up your movements, practically drooling as you whimpered like a dog in heat.

"That's more like it, doll. Such a pretty girl." Arlecchino hummed, her other hand trailing up your stomach, between the valley of your breasts and ghosting across your throat before settling on grabbing your jaw in a firm, yet almost tender touch as she tilted your head to the side just enough for her to pull you into a burning kiss. It left you lightheaded, grinding down against her thigh as she claimed your mouth as her own, her thumb still ghosting over your clit sporadically.

She'd spent so long teasing you, constantly touching you but never where you needed her, that you already felt like you were going to snap like a wire. She must've been in a really good mood, then, when she pulled away from the kiss with an almost predatory lick of her lips, yet she settled on pressing kisses to your skin rather then the usual sharp bite of her teeth as they sunk into the curve of your shoulder.

"Are you close? Go on. I want to see your face when you cum– you look the prettiest when you finally break apart, doll." Arlecchino mused idly– as if she wasn't talking to you while you continued to rub your aching cunt against her thigh, chasing your own release through shaky, strained breaths. Her thumb swiped over your lips, brushing strands of hair stuck to your skin from your face– at the same time as she swiped her thumb more firmly against your clit, creating a vicious contrast that had you both melting at the barest hint of almost softness from her and the touch of her hand between your legs, dragging you into an orgasm that leaves you trembling and, had she not shoved her fingers into your mouth, screaming, tears pooling in the corners of your eyes.

"All done, little doll. Take it easy." She murmured, voice so quiet you almost didn't hear it, thumb swiping across your cheek to wipe away the stray tear, her hands pulling away to settle on your sides. "You did well– good girl. Let me take it from here."

#genshin impact smut #genshin smut #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #minors dni #writing tag #arlecchino x reader #arlecchino smut #i considered the mommy part for half a second but i see arle as the biggest butch and i didnt want 2 swap it on the fly looks around #the projection is just a little too hard my bad. i am obnoxiously annoying abt butch arle... #n e way ough soft arle...........not done enough......arle being rough is a given bc shes Like That but like #soft....... #i am weak for a woman who can do both and switch on a dime #arle imo leans like. 80-90% towards rough but shes got a soft spot if shes in a good mood yknow.. #i wrote this at 1 am on like uhhh 2 hrs of sleep if it isnt good uhhhhh blame it on that lol #im just feeling it out rn anyway tryna get into writing proper smut again its been a hot minute oop #passes out and dies ough...................... #also did NOT spellcheck i just wrote it all in one sitting and called it a day i am gonna pass out now so if u see a typo.... #no u didnt #im not done yet wait a minute okay now just. soft arle got me okay. its rlly rare but shes good at playing nice okay #the appeal of arle is fucked up little creature but sometimes u want 2 be pampered i get it #OKAY im actually shutting up now passes out in the middle of the road

[ghouljams]

Omg now I want to see Soap begging Moon to marry him. Can Goose or someone have a Wild West fever dream so we can see all of those scenarios happen??

“When’re you gonna let me make an honest woman out of you?” Soap leans over the bar, broad shoulders hiked next to his ears as he settles on his elbows. You pour a shot of whiskey for him and try not to hit him with the bottle.

“When’re you gonna pay your tab?” You don’t really mind Soap, but it’s rather annoying that he won’t leave you alone. You’re not sure why he’s so set on you. Man like him could have anyone he wanted, half the women in town are clamoring for him, and the other half are married so they’re stuck pining. 

“I always pay my tab,” He smiles. You narrow your eyes at him. He does. He closes out every time he leaves. That’s another annoying thing about him, he’s a good man. 

“Then you’ve got no reason to keep comin’ around.” You tell him and turn to help the other patrons at the bar. You’ll get Soap some lunch later, let him sweat with his alcohol for a minute. Can’t have him thinkin’ you like him.

-

“You’re late,” You pull a clean glass and pour a healthy serving of whiskey in it before sliding it to Soap.

“Was pickin’ out wedding rings,” He tells you, taking the glass between his fingers. You can see the dirt under his nails, but his hands are clean. You wonder if he wiped them off before he came to see you.

“Who’s the lucky girl?” You ask, and even though you know he’s only joking your stomach still clenches uncomfortably at the thought Soap might have someone waiting on him.

“Hopin’ it’s you.” He says tipping his head back to swallow the whiskey neat. You watch the bob of his adam's apple as he swallows. Soap licks the last drop of whiskey off his lips as he sets his glass down, and you do your best not to watch the path of his pink tongue.

“You better watch out, someday someone’s gonna think you’re serious,” You pour him a second without being asked and go to collect empty glasses before he can tease you further.

-

Soap crowds you against the door to the store room, holding it closed as you try to keep the heat off your cheeks. You’re too used to having the bar between you, a solid barrier keeping him at arm's length. You scowl at him. His lovesick smile makes your stomach flip. You wonder if he’s sick in the head to keep chasing after you. How have you not managed to scare him off yet?

You do your best to keep up a glare, even under Soap’s studying glances. His eyes flick to your lips, then back to your eyes. He really must be mad.

“Do I make you nervous, Hen?” He asks. You feel your brows twitch down a little more.

“Why would you make me nervous?” You aren’t nervous. Your heart must be beating that quickly for some other reason. Soap hums, raises a hand to caress your cheek, his touch soft and clean. His hand is cool against the heat of your skin.

He kisses you before you can push him away. His lips pressing firm against yours make you melt a little. He cups your face so gently, like you’re something to be treasured, something delicate that he has to be careful with. It’s a far cry from your rough exterior, but you almost…like it. It’s especially pleasant when his lips part to kiss you again, hardly bothered whether or not you’re kissing him back. You haven’t pushed him away, and that matters far more. It doesn’t take more than a second of coaxing for you to grip his shirt and kiss him. 

Pressed against the door isn’t the worst place to be when Soap is the one pressing you against it. His body is firm and warm, his fingers tilting your head to let him kiss you at a comfortable angle. He tips his own head to catch the corner of your lips, your jaw, your neck just over where your pulse hammers. You wonder if he can feel it, if he can hear the soft sigh that escapes your lips when he does. He kisses you properly a final time before he pulls back.

Still so close, his thumb swipes against your lower lip. You can’t seem to make up your mind on what you’re supposed to do now. You feel like the whole world has turned pink at the edges.

“Marry me,” He whispers and you feel your heart clench so severely it makes your breath skip. Your lip wobbles a little. You’re supposed to be stronger than this.

“No,” You tell him with as much resolve as you can manage. You expect him to frown, or tease you more, but his smile only grows. 

You’ve never given him an answer when he’s asked, only ever redirected the conversation or made a joke in response. (The jokes were the worst, always on the wrong side of self deprecating, Soap thought those hurt more than a rejection) To get an actual response out of you? An acknowledgement of the sincerity behind the question? Well, some ‘no’s are worth a thousand ‘yes’s.

#1870s!cowboy #cowboy!Soap #oc: moon #johnny soap mactavish #john soap mactavish #johnny soap mactavish x reader #soap x reader #soap x oc #I assume soap is a ranch hand or a stable hand #he works hard and gets dirty but he always makes sure his hands are clean when he sees Moon #don't wanna accidentally dirty her up if he gets the chance to touch her #I think he got tired of waiting for her to realize he wasn't joking #gotta prove he's serious about her somehow #how did he fall for Moon and why is he chasing after her? who knows #I knows #I think he had to deliver something to her early one morning and spotted her in her pjs #and thought “I wanna wake up next to her” #and it was all downhill from there

[miekasa]

when your children are still babies, they get so so upset when gojo comes home and doesn’t immediately pick them up. your baby has recently learned that the sound of the front door opening and closing usually signals the return of their father so tonight, when the door opens, your baby’s head perks up. when he finally takes his shoes off and makes his way into the home, he spots his little angel on the couch. “hi baby!” he coos at them with a smile on his face and his hands full with some packages. “let me go put these down and i’ll be right back!” he tries to explain, to which your baby just obliviously smiles at, just happy to see their father and know that he’s giving them attention. but when they realize that he’s leaving their sight and didn’t immediately pick them up… oh have mercy. it becomes a shit storm because who does he think he is?? to not give his baby all his time and attention! gojo comes running back into the living room confused as to why they’re crying but as soon as he picks them up, they stop crying and start giggling. what a dramatic little baby you’ve been blessed with. the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree ig

— doc dad levi anon

SHUT UPPPPP because you know Satoru loves the attention too, they’re a perfect match together bye. All you can do is stand, bemused, as Satoru picks up the baby and almost instantly quells his crying, rocking him back and forth before stretching his arms to hold the kid at eye level with him and cooing, “Oh, I’m sorry my love, I missed you too, soooooo much,” Satoru bends his arms to brush their noses together and grin at the giggles the baby emits, “You missed me too, yeah? Aren’t you the sweetest little thing, missing me like that? So precious.” Satoru covers the baby in kisses and sweet words for nearly five straight minutes and they both love to bask in each other’s attention (you have the videos to prove it).

Something kinda funny tho is… you’re 98% sure your son can tell that Satoru will give into quickest lmfaoo. Your baby cries sometimes when you have to leave him, sure, and can definitely throw a fit when he wants your attention—but he seems to know to cry (or squeal, or babble, or screech) on demand for his sucker of a father. Nanami, Shoko, Megumi, and Yuuta (your on rotation band of baby sitters) have noticed that the kid loves to be held and has no shame gesturing for it—but they’ve never experienced the baby crying when they so much as step away for a moment, unless he’s hungry or needs to be changed. You don’t have the heart to tell Satoru he’s being played tho, so you just let them have their moment <333 (not that it would matter, Satoru can’t stand to see your kid cry in any capacity, so he’d go right back to giving in; plus it’s a win-win in his book anyway: baby stops crying, and he gets cuddles from his son).

(Then again, you think the need and love for attention might just be genetic, because Satoru has cried big tears a handful of times just leaving you and your baby at home for a few hours).

#anonymous #satoru ‘i’m not crying i’m just. really fucking SAD OKAY I MISS THEM!!!!’ gojo #satoru: maybe my eyes are misty!! so what!!! there’s a lady and baby gojo waiting for me at home and i’m HERE! I HATE IT HERE!!!!!!!! #can we talk about your lineup of babysitters tho LMFAOO #you have basically a father number 2 (the one u call on the most bc let’s be real. why wouldn’t you) + the kid ADORES him #also you can leave the kid w nanami for like. more than a day shoukd something happen. he’s the best #he’s gentle he’s reliable he’s safe he just. best godfather fr #shoko who the baby is obviously Safe with in the literal medical sense but god she needs a nap more than he does LMFAO #baby seems to like her tho and she’s always like ‘i can’t believe this is /satoru’s/ spawn’ #megumi is basically the kids older brother for all intents and purposes and the baby loves him :( #megumi gets the most squishes (see gently smacked with a baby palm) and kisses and megumi just. allows it :((( so cute :((( #yuuta whos always like you..:. are you sure you want ME to babysit? and then is a natural bye #like wdym you got him to eat the steamed cauliflower AND not spill his yogurt AND only have one outfit change? #anon u make me YEARN #gojo x reader #satoru.ask

[thegayestmferintown]

My longest request ever... you should go get a get a snack.

Allow me to set the scene:

1000 years have passed. The Cult of The Lamb has long since blossomed into a full religion, and with it, society and technology skyrocketed with it. (Think early 1910's-1920's in how advanced tech is) A metropolitan city where The Lambs influence is absolute.

While most of the world rose up, some details faded into obscurity. The 4 Bishops, the Mystic Stranger, and the traditions of the Old Faith, many innocuous details faded from people's minds and into the dusty books of long forgotten historical facts, and some even became more akin to myth than fact.

Among these many facts that faded away into knowledge only treasured by historians and book lovers, was one important thing that somehow managed to slip between the cracks:

Narinder. His rescue by The Lamb. His immortality. His ever eternal watch over the people as time passed.

Forgotten by the common folk, remembered by few, and those who remembered pushed this fact into the realm of myth and legend.

Narinder has watched the world forget him, and grow far more than he could have ever imagined. And he was used to not being recognized anymore.

He never expected his name to be called aloud ever again.

Until you came along.

You (Reader) are a historian of the earliest years of the Lambs Influence, researching the beginning, the before, and the waaaaay before too. And you finding someone who not only was half the reason your city was possible, but to find them ALIVE?

It's historians dream come true!

(TLDR)

1000 years after Narinders fall from grace and integration into the cult, everyone forgets that he lived, and is immortal and still alive. A historian (reader) of the Earliest Days find him, and goes fangirling mode, barrageing him with questions and not leaving him alone. And Narinder isn't haveing (most) of it. He probably likes the attention more than he let's on...

𝐈. 𝐘𝐞𝐬. 𝐈 𝐚𝐦 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 /𝐩

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐍𝐨𝐧𝐞

𝐑𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩: 𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐜 (𝐁𝐄𝐂𝐀𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐈 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐊 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐈𝐒 𝐂𝐔𝐓𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐀 𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐂 𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏)

𝐓𝐲𝐩𝐞: 𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲

"𝐀 𝐇𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧?"

𝐍𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐁𝐮𝐬𝐲 𝐯𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐚𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐰. 𝐏𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐬 𝐟𝐥𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐬. 𝐋𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐚𝐦𝐛 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐟𝐮𝐧, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐍𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐥𝐲 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐚𝐬 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐖𝐡𝐨 𝐖𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐬.

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐨𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐢𝐦, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞? 𝐎𝐡, 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐱𝐜𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐝! 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐡, 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐍𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐨𝐧 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰.

𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐚𝐦𝐛 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰, 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐲. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐚𝐦𝐛 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐩𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐍𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐩𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐰 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤. 𝐀 𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐲 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐬, 𝐚 𝐛𝐚𝐠, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐩𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐚𝐠, 𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐬𝐧𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐚𝐝 𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐩𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐠 𝐨𝐧.

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦, 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠. 𝐎𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐜𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐲 𝐥𝐞𝐟𝐭. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐍𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟.

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞, 𝐨𝐜𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐭 𝐈𝐧𝐧'𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐮𝐩 𝐨𝐧 𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩. 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐬 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐥. 𝐁𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐰 𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐲, 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐮𝐥, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐞𝐫 𝐠𝐨𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞.

𝐁𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐮𝐩 𝐭𝐨 𝐚 𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐲 𝐜𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐧, 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐨𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐥𝐲. 𝐀 𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐬, 𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐥, 𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧. "𝐋𝐚𝐦𝐛, 𝐈 𝐭𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐈 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠!" 𝐇𝐞 𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐨𝐫, 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬 𝐮𝐩𝐨𝐧 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮.

"𝐖𝐡𝐨 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮?" 𝐇𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝, 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐰𝐬 𝐚𝐬 𝐢𝐟 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐝 𝐮𝐩 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫, "𝐈'𝐦 𝐚 𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐡." 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐩𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐝, 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐫𝐤 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐩𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐚𝐰 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝.

"𝐀 𝐇𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧?" 𝐀 𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐡𝐢𝐦, 𝐭𝐡𝐫 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐫𝐤 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞. "𝐇𝐦." 𝐇𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝, 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐮𝐩 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧. "𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐝𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭?" 𝐇𝐞 𝐭𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐝, "𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐬𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬! 𝐈𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐫?" 𝐍𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐨 𝐚𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝.

𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬, 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝. 𝐀 𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐰𝐥 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬, 𝐲𝐞𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬. 𝐇𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐦, 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐭 𝐚 𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐲 𝐈𝐧𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚... 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐝𝐚𝐲.

𝐇𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐲, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧, 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐚 𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐥𝐥.

𝐇𝐞 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐝𝐨𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐬. "..𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭?" 𝐇𝐞 𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐝, 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐯𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐮𝐬𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐚𝐲.

"𝐀 𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐧!" 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐝, 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐭 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐦. 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐬𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐭, 𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐨𝐧. "𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞. 𝐇𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲?" 𝐇𝐞 𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧.

𝐀𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐦 𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐰𝐥 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐝. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐲. 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐨𝐧, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐞𝐟𝐭, 𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝.

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐰, "𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠?" 𝐇𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝, "𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞'𝐬 𝐚.. 𝐮𝐡. 𝐋𝐮𝐧𝐚𝐫 𝐄𝐜𝐥𝐢𝐩𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭, 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐞?" 𝐇𝐞 𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐝, 𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐠𝐚𝐳𝐞.

"𝐈'𝐝 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐨," 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐨 𝐚 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐮𝐧𝐚𝐫 𝐄𝐜𝐥𝐢𝐩𝐬𝐞. 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐞, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐫. 𝐇𝐞 𝐠𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚 𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭 𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐚𝐬 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐩 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬.

𝐇𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐫𝐚𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐚𝐫𝐦 𝐢𝐧 𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐢𝐬, 𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐋𝐮𝐧𝐚𝐫 𝐄𝐜𝐥𝐢𝐩𝐬𝐞.

#narinder x reader #follower narinder #the one who waits x reader #the one who waits #romantic x reader #x reader #cult of the lamb x reader #cult of the lamb narinder #cult of the lamb narinder x reader #cotl narinder #cotl #cotl narinder x reader #cotl lamb

[luis-block]

Nsfw hcs for Narinder maybe? ;0

I can do that!

NSFW Headcanons for Narinder (follower)

Warnings: NSFW, BDSM talk

He is a switch, but much more of a top. He will only bottom when he trusts you A LOT.

Loves to be in a dominant role, weather that is in a bdsm scene or just regular sex, he likes to be in control. He won’t let his guard down for the first few times you guys do it, but after a bit he relaxes.

Secretly likes to be collared with a leash to match. It makes his blood boil that he likes it so much, he cant help to do it when you bat your eyes at him.

#cult of the lamb nsft #cotl nsft #nsft #cult of the lamb reader #cult of the lamb x reader #cotl x reader #cotl Narinder x reader #cult of the lamb Narinder x reader #Narinder x reader #the one who waits x reader #cotl the one who waits x reader

[141trash]

AN: so I know its not exactly simon x reader its all platonic, but I wasn't sure how else to tag this. Actually if you squint it could be Ghost x Soap I'll let you decide :) Sometimes my brain says things should exist so I write them. Loosely borrows the Master of Death concept from the HP series because yes. She's my OC if you want to know more just let me know I mostly just wanted to practice writing Simon idk and wanted him to be comforted :(

"Let's say I believed you," the exhausted lieutenant's voice broke the quiet hiss of sand shifting in the warm breeze. He laid staring up at the cloudless blue sky, knife held limply in one hand. His balaclava was torn off and cast aside, leaving his face exposed to the unrelenting sun.

"Mhm?" Came the sweet voice, acknowledging his words and probing gently for him to continue.

"If I believe you're the master of death or whatever," he croaked out, throat parched, "Why me? Why save me? There're billions of people who deserve to be saved over me."

Her head cocked to the side, observing him for a moment.

"Why do you believe you're not worth saving?" she asked instead of answering. Simon let out a harsh laugh interrupted by a bout of coughing and a resigned grunt of pain.

"y'just need to look at me to know that love. My mask. I'm a killer. Got my family killed. My mum, my brother." he swallowed, voice cracking as he continued, "His beautiful wife, and their little boy."

He gulped feeling the hot sting of tears and used some of his waning strength to swipe them angrily away. When she didn't say anything he turned his head in her direction. It was hard to believe that he wasn't hallucinating. Sitting next to him in the middle of the desert was a six year old in a pink tutu and a burnt tiara of some sort, perched in her golden curls. Small hands drew shapes and patterns in the scorching sand as if the temperature didn't affect her. Big innocent green eyes bore into him in a way that very much felt like she was staring into his soul.

"The skull mask was an interesting choice," She agreed dryly, "I won't disagree that you're a killer either, given your chosen profession. But you didn't get your family killed. The actions of others are not yours to take the blame for."

"Y'r surprisingly wise for a kid."

The master of death rolled her eyes and smiled, revealing a set of pearly white teeth, "Today I'm a kid."

"Sure. like tomorrow you're not goin' to be."

She gave a shrug of her shoulders, "Maybe, maybe not. It's not exactly my choice."

"Y'didn't answer my question." he coughed again, "If you're the master of death. Why me?"

"I don't make those decisions. I think death would be rather cross with me if that was the case. Everything dies at some point. It's part of the cycle. But death says I'm still ruled by my human emotions. If I had the choice, I don't think I would let people die. And then there really would be no point to life."

He laughed again and then groaned, the side where he'd been shot throbbed horribly.

"You sure you ain't just here to kill me?" Simon wheezed out, hands tightening into fists, "Because it sure feels like it."

Tenderly she reached out and smoothed one of his hands, grasping at it with her much smaller one.

"Of course not Simon." she clucked her tongue as if to scold him, "Pain means you're alive. Keep living. Find your reason to keep living. It's important. You're important."

His vision was darkening with each passing second and her voice was growing murky, like he was hearing it underwater. Gasping in panic he forced his eyes open.

"It hurts," it came out as a whimper. She smiled sadly at him, bright green eyes wet with sympathy.

"I know sweetheart, but it won't be forever."

Then she was gone. The small, but reassuring grip she'd had on his hand disappeared and the panic fully settled in. He tried to call out to her. He didn't want to be alone again. Anything, but having to face the world alone again. He wanted to beg and plead for her to return, but his mouth refused to listen.

Rough hands grabbed hold of him, jerking him back to consciousness. When he managed to get his eyes open again he saw a familiar tanned, if a little blurry, face staring back at him with worry in his eyes. Johnny. Johnny was there.

He saw the sergeant's mouth moving, but he couldn't hear. All of his senses were on fire, everything was too loud, to rough, too painful. No part of him didn't hurt.

He was alive and Johnny was here. Weakly he lifted a hand to grasp the shoulder of the Scottish man's vest.

"You're here." was all he managed to gasp weakly attempting to smile before his mind gave out and he fell into darkness. This time he gave in willingly. He wasn't alone anymore.

#ghost x reader #cod x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #sah rambles #i considered not posting this one because i wasnt sure how I felt about it but then i remembered its my blog so who cares #i was gonna wait to post this but what am i waiting for

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Was wondering if you could do a cult of the lamb Narinder x reader where, in the days after his indoctrination into the lamb's cult, Narinder is subject to several childish "pranks" from the other members (things like, throwing his belongings into the river, tipping over the outhouse while he's in it, etc) and one day, (the day this story takes place) the reader gets tired of it and stands up for him. Then, later that night, they find him sitting near a tree and try to cheer him up.

Narinder knew that he wasn't going to receive a warm welcome upon his indoctrination into Lamb's cult. 

After all, he did capture all of their followers and threaten to kill them alongside his former vessel.

So when he became the victim of a series of childish pranks for the next several days, he let them have their little “revenge”. At first they were harmless, albeit annoying, but it really just showed their immaturity to the core. It was easy for him to shrug it off and continue on.

But then they started getting more creative, harassing him at nearly every waking moment. They took advantage especially whenever Lamb was away for days on a crusade or off playing knucklebones.

For instance, a few mischievous followers ransacked his shelter, throwing some of his belongings into the nearby stream. Others sneezed over his food or snuck a turd into a bowl of meat he picked up, leaving him disgusted and sick.

One time, he was in an outhouse and somebody from the outside locked it before tipping it over. He could hear their laughter as he panicked and nearly tore the door down trying to get out.

That day, he learned he didn’t deal with enclosed spaces too well.

They were getting braver..and crueler. They’re just outright tormenting him at this point, though he refused to break in front of them or even say anything about their pranks to Lamb.

He’s been through worse as a god. Surely he can handle whatever they decide to throw at him, right?

However, one afternoon, they went too far. 

This prank in particular was done on other followers, but to him?

It was the most traumatic thing imaginable.

The usual group of pranksters ganged up on him, grabbing his arms without warning and dragging him over to the stocks. He hissed and struggled to break free, until the “leader” said something that shook him to the core.

“We had a secret meeting with our leader...and they said you’ve been very bad. So we’re locking you up alll night long.” They spoke with a blank expression, sounding serious despite the few followers behind them snickering, mouth covered.

As much as Narinder tried fighting back, he was eventually locked up, unable to move as the group began laughing at him. One tossed fertilizer near his feet so he’d breathe in the horrible stench, but inside he was on the verge of a breakdown as he closed his eyes.

Here he was again. A prisoner.

Absolutely helpless as he felt a growing ache in his neck from being hunched over for so long. This was the sort of pain he’s never experienced before as a god...and that all changed when that wretched Lamb came along.

Is this why they spared his life? Just so their followers can bully him to their leisure?

Why did he have to endure this?

Why couldn’t they just give him an honorable de-

"HEY! What are you all doing?!"

Suddenly a voice shouted out, silencing the group as everyone--Narinder included--looked to the source.

It was you, a longtime follower of the cult and faith enforcer, standing there with a scowl on your face. 

You looked at them all in disappointment. "Pranks are supposed to be funny, but I don’t see him laughing now, do I?” Huffing, you pushed through them and freed Narinder from the restraints "Yes, I know he's done bad things..but are we any better for torturing him like this? Is this what our great leader would've wanted?!"

A few flinched at your anger. Usually you were one of the nicest people in the entire cult--the one who welcomed and helped everybody no matter what region they came from--so for you to be upset means they seriously screwed up.

"..he kinda deserves it, though..” A bunny quietly muttered, but you quickly shut them down.

“Speak ill of him again and you’ll be in the stocks instead. Got it?”

They jumped in fright, quickly nodding before the group finally dispersed and went back to their usual tasks.

You didn’t like being the “fun police”, but you knew there was a fine line between pranking and tormenting--and they crossed it numerous times. Lamb will definitely hear about this one when they returned.

In the mean time, you wanted to see if Narinder was okay after all of that. Though you looked around and didn’t see him anywhere, confusing you.

‘Maybe he just needs time alone...hope he’s okay. Poor guy..’

..............

After finishing your nightly prayers, you stood up and stretched with a yawn. You then looked upon the statue of stone, gold, and red ribbon, smiling at it. Even now it gleamed under the moonlight and crackling spiritual flames.

Everyone else went to bed, and Lamb had gone into the temple to meditate, so it was just you out here alone.

Or...so you thought, as you heard a quite sniffle nearby.

You looked to see a certain black cat sitting down against a tree. He was curled up with his head resting on his knees. Clearly, he was still upset over today's events, but until now he was hiding from you and everyone in the cult.

Well, now’s your chance to cheer him up in some way.

Frowning, you approached him and kneeled down. "Hey, Nari..I’m sorry about what happened earlier..."

As Narinder glanced up, you felt your heart twist in pain at the tears staining his fur, leaving dark trails. "I know they just..wanted to see me break. But I-I wish they hadn’t done that." He shuddered, hugging himself. "Tell me, Faith Enforcer...is this why Lamb brought me here? To be mocked and bullied forever?"

"...no."

He blinked at your words, surprised. But said nothing as you sat beside him. "They believe you deserve a second chance. I talked to them and they'll make sure that never happens again....unless you decide to dissent one day."

“I’ve dissented from the moment I set foot here.” Narinder grumbled, lightly sniffling. “You don’t think that I perhaps...deserve this after-?”

“Destroying your stuff and making you relive your imprisonment are cruel pranks. Those aren’t okay at all. Totally undeserved. But you know..you can always try to prank them back.” You pointed out with a knowing smile.

“..by how? Reminding them of their own mortality? By serving them a meal with a pinch of follower flesh?” He bore a sharp-toothed grin as he thought of so many possible revenge schemes. “I can still strike fear into all of their hearts if I wish...even yours, [y/n].”

Despite his somewhat threatening words, you were unfazed by them. You just chuckled, much to his disappointment. “Well if you want to, go for it. It could be delicious payback. I could even help if you wanna.”

Closing his mouth, Narinder thought over your offer.

He wasn’t sure why you were so kind to him, considering all he did and threatened to do..but regardless you clearly wanted to be his friend. And you stood up for him, too.

That meant more than you realized.

So he huffed, nodding in agreement.

“I suppose I could use some assistance..thanks.”

#the day i actually get a follower request to prank narinder is the day i cri /hj #clanask #anonymous #cult of the lamb x reader #cotl x reader #cotl narinder #the one who waits x reader #narinder x reader #hurt/comfort

[paperultra]

le festin.

Pairing: OPLA!Vinsmoke Sanji x Fem!Reader Word Count: 3,842 words Warnings: Swearing, alcohol use, toxic family [A/N: yes this is partially inspired by ratatouille. inspiration comes from many places and i am not one to question it. happy new year <3]

cingulomania (noun): a strong desire to hold a person in your arms nemesism (noun): frustration, anger or aggression directed inward, toward oneself and one's way of living

Thunk.

Thunk.

Thunk.

“Murfus.”

“Yes, Miss?”

“Get me more darts.”

Murfus wrings his hands, glancing between you and the wall a few feet away. “I … I’m afraid I can’t get you more darts,” he replies tentatively, “on account of us being out at sea, Miss.”

“Then fetch the ones I’ve already thrown,” you snap, pointing at said darts. “Idiot.”

“Of course. So sorry, Miss.”

He scampers over to the wall and hurriedly pulls each dart out of it, rushing back to you with sweat on his brow. You snatch them out of his white-gloved palms.

Pinching the blue dart between your fingers, you hold it up to your eye and aim. With a sharp snap of your wrist, the dart flies forward and into the paper tacked onto the wood panel.

Murfus winces.

Crumpled, smudged, and pitted with pin-sized holes, one would have a hard time reading the article on the wall. But you know what it says. You’ve memorized its structure, can land a dart onto each line mentioning that damned restaurant by name. And you do.

“Murfus.”

“Yes, Miss?”

“Read the menu to me again.”

“Of course, Miss.” You hear the crinkle of paper and the sound of him clearing his throat. “The appetizers are as follows …”

You only half-listen as the man continues, the other half occupied by the wall in front of you and the starting paragraph steadily being destroyed by your hand. Your tongue draws across your teeth.

“In all our years as food critics, scouring the East Blue for any semblance of palatable cuisine in a region brimming with endless possibilities, no other restaurant has come as close to unlocking the flavor of the seas as the Baratie.”

—

You had, by all accounts, a privileged upbringing.

The Nouveau Blue Guide is not royalty, nobility, or military – but it is an empire in its own right, a name that’s afforded you many opportunities and comforts since you were young: a fine education, luxurious business trips, a roof over your head and plenty of food to eat. Your family’s reputation as food critics, built by your great-grandfather and painstakingly maintained up to this very day, is unmatched in the East Blue.

Such is your birthright. A birthright that, despite your toil and travels and countless, countless hours spent writing reviews, your parents say you do not deserve.

“You call this an article?” Your mother brandishes the draft you’d submitted in hopes of some constructive criticism, her voice climbing high. “It’s a mess!”

“I haven’t polished it up yet –”

“There’s nothing worth polishing. Frankly, it’s embarrassing that a child of mine has written something like this.” She passes the article over to your father. “Darling, throw this away. I’m already stressed as it is.”

Your father takes it. Gives it a cursory once-over. Your tentative anticipation dissolves in the pit of your stomach when he sighs, shaking his head at you. “You’re not cut out for this career, dear,” he tells you, folding your article in half and then quarters and dropping it into the bin by your mother’s desk. “Claudie is already taking over the Guide. Your time is better spent improving your etiquette.”

You breathe in. Keep your hands relaxed, square your shoulders. Nod obediently with clenched teeth.

“I’m sorry for wasting your time.”

You know that your family means well. They want you to live a successful life, find a successful spouse, and raise successful children. They don’t want you to waste your time because your time is valuable.

Well, today, you’re going to prove that you are not wasting anything.

“We’re ready to disembark, Miss.”

“Good.”

Standing up, you put on your gloves and hat, picking your notebook and pen up from the table before walking with Murfus down to the dock.

He accompanies you to the entrance of the Baratie, then falls back so you may walk in alone. The maître d’hôtel welcomes you and promptly gets you seated at a booth on the ground floor, not too close to the stairs to distract you from the ambience of the restaurant and not too close to the kitchen to hear the ruckus of the cooks.

In the brief space of time before your waiter arrives, you take everything in. Dim, cozy lighting. High ceiling. Few windows. Sitting in the Baratie is like sitting in the belly of a whale. Perhaps you can make a point about it being a bit too enclosed, but given that its main customers are seafarers looking for reprieve from the elements, you don’t think many would find that damning.

You make a few half-hearted but detailed notes.

“Hello, madam.” A voice from above interrupts your writing.

You look up, irritated.

The waiter before you is a handsome man, blond-haired and broad-shouldered. He flashes you a charming smile upon meeting your eyes as he sets a plate of bread rolls down, standing close enough that you can smell cigarette smoke mixed with spices and just the barest remnants of cologne.

You recognize him immediately.

“My name is Sanji, and I have the immense pleasure of being your waiter this evening. Shall we start with drinks?”

Stifling your confusion with a sneer, you place your pen down.

“Is the Baratie so short-staffed that they have their sous chef waiting tables?”

Sanji’s smile freezes for just a moment. He seems to recover quickly, though, shaking his head and chuckling at your query.

“I’m flattered you recognize me!” he replies. “No, I occasionally wait tables when the owner requests it, that’s all.”

You do not buy it.

“Then, Sanji, I will have a glass of Ithürzburger Stein to start,” you say.

He nods. “Excellent choice. I will get that for you straight away.”

His eyes dart shamelessly to your open notebook before settling back on your face. To your utter surprise and dismay, he winks at you before heading off.

Your cheeks warm without warning.

Nobody, let alone a waiter (even if he really is the sous chef), has ever winked at you before. They had the good sense not to. It’s incredibly crude, and surely, you’re more offended than anything else – handsome or not, such behavior deserves a scathing call-out –

But … what if you’re overthinking things? What if it isn’t a big deal because it doesn’t affect the quality of the food? Your parents always take context into consideration – the Baratie is beloved for its rough-and-tumble personality under the guise of upscale dining, so perhaps this is part of the experience. He may not have even winked at you at all.

“Tch.”

You release the tablecloth from your grip, grabbing a bread roll instead and sinking your teeth into it. It’s light, sweet, and perfect. You chew quickly and swallow hard.

The sous chef comes back soon after, your requested bottle of wine in one hand and a polished glass in the other.

“Your Ithürzburger Stein, madam,” he says, opening the bottle and pouring you a glass with practiced ease.

He watches intently as you pick the glass up and bring it to your lips. The aroma reaches your nose, and it takes an immense effort not to wrinkle it as you take a sip. You’ve never particularly liked alcohol. This one is sour and dry.

“It’s alright,” you say, wishing you could rinse the taste out with juice. “I’m ready to order my appetizers and entrées.”

“Of course.”

You rattle off a few items, having memorized the menu after listening to Murfus read it so many times. For the appetizers, wakame salad with sesame-ginger dressing, Sea King croquettes, and grilled plums with goat cheese. For the entrees, Sambasian crab-stuffed salmon with roasted potatoes and chickpea stew. They’re nothing particularly unique or outstanding, but you feel that they are worth evaluating.

Sanji takes your order and leaves you with another dazzling smile, and you make the excuse of drinking more of the wine to avoid it. Maybe you will be a better writer drunk than sober.

Probably not.

Alone once again, you occupy yourself by exploring different ways to describe the wine, the bread, and the atmosphere. When you tire of that, you eavesdrop on the booth next to yours. It seems to be occupied by a group of marines, each attempting to one-up the others in the world’s shortest dick-measuring contest. You tire of that much more quickly.

When your appetizers arrive, you’re examining the arrangement of the silverware and the quality of their polish.

“Is the table set to your liking?” Sanji asks while lining up the plates. He takes more time doing so than is necessary, in your opinion.

“How it’s set doesn’t matter as much as whether it’s clean and accessible,” you reply, eyeing the croquettes with interest. “Tell me, where do you get your Sea King meat?”

“The Gourmet Hunter Guild supplies us with most of the rarer meats we serve here. The Sea King meat in your croquettes was just delivered this morning, so I’d say you’re quite lucky, madam.”

“What species is it?”

“Baron of the Tides.”

“Barons of the Tides tend to have a strong taste and tough flesh. Not many people are fond of it.”

Sanji’s eye glints as he rests a hand on the table, leaning in. “You know your food,” he says. “I expected no less from the Nouveau Blue Guide, and yet I’m still impressed.”

“It must not take much to impress you, then.”

“It takes a lot, actually.” He winks at you, and this time, you’re sure of it – and it’s strange because you don’t feel leered at, not at all, and your cheeks warm yet again. “Regarding the meat, no matter what it is, a good chef can make anything into a delicious meal. You won’t be disappointed.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.”

“Of course, madam. You’re the expert, after all.”

You are glad when he finally leaves, if only because you have no idea what to make of him. It’s difficult to tell if he’s being patronizing, and you can usually tell.

You sweep your gaze over your appetizers and take a deep breath.

Starting with the wakame salad, you inspect its presentation – a round pile of rich green seaweed in a smooth black bowl – and take a small portion to chew on.

The seaweed strikes a perfect balance between tender and firm, and the seasoning is perfect.

Fine. Whatever.

Next, the grilled plums with goat cheese. You take one bite; the creamy earthiness of the cheese complements the tender sweetness of the plums, and the caramelization is obnoxiously fantastic. You eat an entire half to make sure.

It looks like your last hope for this round is the Sea King croquettes.

Plucking one up with your fingers, you cut your teeth through the crispy, golden breading. The meaty interior strikes your tongue and your intake of breath is sudden, your free hand curling into a tight fist underneath the table.

It tastes good.

All three of them are really good.

This is horrible.

When Sanji drops off your entrées, you hardly realize that he’s there, too engrossed in the scent and the sight and the taste of the food.

“I hope the appetizers were to your liking?”

Sanji somehow gets the hint when you stab your fork into the Sambasian crab-stuffed salmon. He clears his throat and leaves you to your own devices.

You eat, and with each bite, your frustration mounts.

The Sambasian crab-stuffed salmon is flaky and succulent, the potatoes roasted to crisp skin and creamy flesh. The chickpea stew sits hot in your mouth and fills your nose with a parade of fragrant spices. It tastes amazing soaked into the bread rolls. Nothing is undercooked, or overcooked, or sloppily presented. Everything is just right. Just perfect.

You spend what feels like hours in the mouth of the booth, tasting, writing, crossing out, agonizing. The sounds of the Baratie die out until all you can hear is the scratching of pen against paper and your own breathing and pulse.

No, no, no, no.

It’s … it’s impossible. Any complaint you have is simply an expression of your own personal preferences, and your personal preferences don’t mean shit.

Your writing utensil is nearly buckling under the pressure by the time Sanji comes around for the nth time, and you’re just about ready to skewer him with it along with whoever else has the luck to wander too close.

“Are you interested in dessert, madam?”

“Of course I am,” you grit out.

All you’re met with is that damned smile of his. “Wonderful. Here’s our dessert menu.” He holds it out and you snatch it from him. “Someone with such a sweet face deserves something just as sweet.”

You snap the menu shut.

“Surprise me.”

Sanji blinks while you glare up at him, handing the menu back.

“… Pardon, madam?”

“I want the famed sous chef of the Baratie to prepare a dessert for me,” you say evenly. “I don’t care what it is or how long it takes. Surprise me.”

“I … of course.” He straightens up, the most serious you’ve ever seen him this entire evening. “Whatever you want.”

—

You wait.

The sous chef returns, not even an hour later, with a white ceramic bowl in hand and none other than the owner of the Baratie stomping after him.

“Your dessert, madam,” Sanji says, though a bit hurriedly. “Rice pudding with mango –”

He’s interrupted by Zeff, who grabs him by the back of his collar much like one would do to an errant cat. You raise your eyebrows, watching Sanji’s expression immediately wrinkle into one of annoyance.

“Little eggplant, you stop and listen when I’m talking to you.”

“Are you serious, old man? I’m in the middle of –”

“I told you that you’re off the line. No customer can change that, no matter who they are.” Zeff casts you a wayward glance and frowns before dragging Sanji back towards the kitchen. “We’re gonna have a little chat, you and me.”

Despite his bitter protesting, Sanji leaves your table with Zeff, and you’re left with your final course and the curious eyes of several diners.

“What are you looking at?” you bark at them, and they quickly go back to their meals.

You look down at your dessert. There’s a sprinkling of cinnamon on the surface, and it’s crowned with bright, paper-thin slices of mango, but rice pudding is so … simple. You’re almost insulted. But you are also surprised, and that is what you asked for.

Scooping up a bit of the pudding, you place it into your mouth, closing your eyes.

Two seconds later, you slam your spoon onto the table and stand up.

You can feel the sturdiness of the kitchen’s doors when you fling them open, your gaze immediately falling upon a mop of blond hair in the corner.

Heading straight towards him, you seize the front of Sanji’s well-pressed shirt and drag his face close to yours.

“What did you put in it?!”

Your shriek explodes through the noise of the kitchen staff. Sanji stares at you with wide eyes and oddly reddening cheeks.

“In the pudding?” he asks, bewildered. “Not much, really. Glutinous rice, coconut milk, salt –”

“Goddammit.” You shove him away and dig your nails into the back of your neck, chest and throat tightening. You can feel your breaths beginning to quicken and your eyes starting to sting. “Shit. Shit.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa”—Sanji puts a hand on your shoulder and it burns—“sweetheart, what’s wrong –”

“Where does that back door lead to?”

“Er, a dock? We take smoke breaks –”

“Excuse me.”

Shaking him off and pushing past him, you head straight to the door, open it, and close it behind you.

And then you scream.

Gods, you’re fucking ruined. You’re a fucking failure. Your parents were right, Claudie was right, you can’t do this and you could never do this and now you’re at the back of the East Blue’s only five-fucking-star restaurant having an emotional breakdown over eating food.

You scream until your voice breaks, until you’re left kneeling and gasping for breath on the filthy, wet dock.

You cough. Cinnamon lingers in the back of your throat, and you start crying.

Behind you, the door creaks open.

"[Y/n]?"

“Please don’t let my family hear about this,” you burst out without even turning to look at Sanji. “I’ll pay whatever amount you want.”

“Nobody’s going to be saying anything.” You feel him approaching, and then he drops down to sit next to you. “However, I’m very concerned about you. What’s got you so upset?”

“Why do you care?”

“A lovely lady such as yourself shouldn’t have to suffer alone.”

“Oh, please.” You hug your knees to your chest. But Sanji doesn’t leave, and after a few minutes, the words fall unbidden from your mouth, having nowhere else to go. “… I wasn’t assigned to come here.”

“Hm?”

“My family”—you swallow the lump in your throat—“they don’t know I’m here. I came here to write a review on the Baratie and get a … get a star taken away.”

Gods. That sounds so fucking stupid now. What is wrong with you?

“You did?” Sanji sounds baffled. “How come?”

A wet laugh crawls out between your teeth. “You’re the only restaurant my parents have ever given five stars to, you know that, right? So I figured – I-I figured if I could find out something wrong with the Baratie, they’d realize how good I can be at this job. I’m good at finding flaws. I’m good at details. This should’ve been … I should’ve found something.” You glare down at your lap. “But I couldn’t. Not even in the stupid dessert you made.”

“Oh.” A moment of silence occurs in which you can practically hear him gather his thoughts. “… I suppose I can take that as a compliment,” he says slowly, crossing his legs. “But is that really how you see food? Something to find fault in?”

“It’s something to evaluate. I’m a critic. It’s what I’ve always wanted to be.”

“But do you enjoy it?”

You frown, sniffling. Your brow furrows.

You want to tell him that it’s a stupid question. Why would you need to enjoy food? It’s work. You feel accomplished after finding the right words for a dish’s unique flavor, feel determined when you comb through the items on a menu. You feel delighted when you find something wrong with it.

But you …

“No,” you realize. “I … don’t.”

“I see. Well, I’m not one to tell you how to think,” Sanji says, “but as a cook, I believe that food’s one of the pleasures and privileges of being alive. As a critic, why deny yourself of its full potential?”

“I … I don’t know,” you whisper.

And the thought occurs to you, like a bottle that had been floating out at sea for years finally washing ashore, that you hate what your life has become.

“I don’t know.”

You can’t help it. You let out a loud sob, your head hanging down and bumping against Sanji’s arm. He doesn’t hesitate to wrap you in a tight hug.

It’s the first hug you’ve had in a very, very long time.

“I’m so sick of this,” you croak, face hot with shame and humiliation. “I’ll never be good enough for them. Ever.”

“They don’t deserve you.”

“But they’re my family.”

He rests his chin on your head. “A family who hurts you this much isn’t much of a family at all,” he murmurs.

His words are like a hot knife to the throat. What follows is cold, awful, bitter relief.

You force your eyes shut. Your arms tighten desperately around him, and you curl up, a pathetic excuse of a person in a crumpled heap on a dirty dock.

So this is you, you think. A purposeless silver spoon, miserable and starved for affection, clinging to a complete stranger outside the best restaurant in the East Blue.

It feels better to lay everything bare, actually.

“I can’t go back,” you tell him hoarsely.

“We won’t let anything get out.”

“The staff won’t, but you can’t do anything about the customers.” Reluctantly, you pull away, taking a deep breath and wiping your eyes. Clarity comes with it, hard and heavy. “But you know what? I don’t care anymore. I quit.”

“Quit?”

“Yeah.”

Reaching up, you close your hand around the small family crest resting just below your collarbone. You hesitate for just a moment, then tug sharply, and the thin chain around your neck snaps. Beads of gold glint in the sunlight as you look at it.

Yeah. Fuck it.

Winding your arm up, you fling the necklace as far as you can into the dark sea. It barely makes a splash as it hits the surface and disappears from sight.

“Good throw,” Sanji compliments.

“Thank you.”

He grins at you crookedly, and you finally return it, the last of your tears squeezing out from the motion and dripping down your cheeks.

Gentle fingers touch your chin. You let Sanji turn your face towards him, and the corner of his mouth tilts up as he takes a handkerchief out of his pocket and wipes the rest of the wetness from your cheeks and nose.

“There,” he says once he’s finished. “Now I can see your pretty face better.”

(You wonder how the world ever produced someone so kind.)

“I’m sorry, Sanji,” you say, “for being such an ass to you earlier.”

“Please don’t worry about it. It was my pleasure to serve you.”

“No, really. I grabbed you. I’ve never done anything like that before, and I feel awful about it.”

“I really didn’t –”

“Please,” you plead.

Sanji bites his lip, holding your gaze for a moment, then sighs. “All right. If it’ll make you feel better, I accept your apology,” he acquiesces. His expression softens. “And if you really have nowhere to go,” he offers more quietly, “the Baratie will gladly welcome you.”

Your lungs feel a bit emptier than usual.

“Thank you,” you somehow manage to say. “I’ll consider your offer.”

Your sudden formality seems to amuse him. He raises an eyebrow. “Oh, consider it? Anything I can do to sweeten the deal?”

His voice dips at the end, a sort of low and raspy thing, and you learn that it is much, much worse than being winked at.

You swallow and turn your head away. “T-Tell me the rest of the ingredients for your rice pudding,” you mutter.

“Join the Baratie and I’ll show you how to make it.”

“What? You’re turning it around on me.”

Sanji merely laughs in response, the corners of his eyes crinkling. Despite your embarrassment, you eventually find yourself chuckling along, and the sounds bloom together, so different yet so complementary. It’s nice, laughing with someone. You enjoy it.

Perhaps this is what food is supposed to bring, you think, this same, small, strange moment of peace and satisfaction.

You hope so.

#aesthetic words prompt list #opla #one piece #sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji #sanji #opla sanji #one piece live action #opla fanfiction #one piece fanfiction #reader insert #fem!reader #pleas. don't ask who inspired this reader character (it was ego and chef skinner i'm sorry) #and carmen from sanji's loguetown filler episode #i was reading the english lyrics for le festin and got emotional ok #poor murfus he's been on the ship waiting and now he gotta bring back a letter saying reader's leaving the guide

[shurisneakers]

ok and if i wrote harmless in a different font. so what

#the first part is 1.6k words long #and i am looking for supernatural slash paranormal ideas to use in here for future parts. so if u guys wanna. yk. #make it a community project like harmless was <3333 that'd be lovely and fun <3333 #but im waiting to write a couple of parts b4 publishing this one #bc of health reasons #anyway in unrelated news #i have another drabble series coming out on saturday #a letters series where bucky is Shit At Talking so he just writes letters to his bestie who he's in love with bc his therapist told him to #it's a drabble series #and also if u wanna send in word prompts for that. that would be very helpful and i will worship you #anyway im done talking #ari talks #bucky x reader