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fear-is-truth · 2 months

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𝑳𝑶𝑽𝑬 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑾𝑨𝒀 𝒀𝑶𝑼 𝑳𝑰𝑬

Part I / ?

pairing: kai anderson x fem!reader

summary: you are the key to his climb on the political ladder. and maybe something more.

warnings: sfw. talk of masturbation, kai being a creep. not throughly proofread + english is not my first language sorry

a/n: part 2 is pure filth, so here’s a bit of buildup i guess

𝜗ϱ

His gaze bore into you with an intensity that felt suffocating, twin tar pits of darkness that left you feeling exposed and vulnerable. As if you were a lab specimen on a dissection table, waiting to be cut open and examined. Your stomach churned with nerves, knowing all too well the workings of this ritual. Kai had the ability to unearth your darkest secrets and wield them against you like a gun.

Unease prickled at the edges of your consciousness as you sank into the chair opposite Kai, his elbow resting on the table's hard surface. The solitary light overhead created a fucked-up, blue halo around his hair.

A slow smile spread across his lips as he extended his pinky toward you. With a resigned sigh, you reached out, locking your pinky with his, your elbow thudding softly against the table.

“First question,” Kai's voice flowed smooth and velvety, sending a shiver down your spine. You held your breath, bracing yourself for the interrogation.

“When you masturbate. Who do you think of?”

You stared at him stupidly. The question sounded so natural, rolling off his tongue. As if he were talking about the evening news.

“I- I, um..”

You wanted nothing more than to curl into a ball and disappear, to escape this fucking creepy basement and his clinical scrutiny. Like always, Kai was ruthless. His face hardened.

“Answer the question, you know the rules.”

“You,” you confessed, cheeks burning with embarrassment. He simply nodded, as if he had been expecting that all along. Asshole.

“How much are you willing to do to help me with my cause?” Dark eyes bore into yours, searching for any sign of hesitation.

“I'll do whatever it takes,” you answered, then added, “I would do anything for you.”

His gaze softened for a brief moment as he leaned back, seemingly satisfied with your answer.

“Good girl,”

You basked in the validation in his words. You answered correctly, because you were a good girl. His good girl. Just as you began to relax, his next question was like a slap to the face, a kiss on the lips. It filled you with dread.

“Do you love me?”

“Yes. I do,”

The words coming out of your mouth made you feel like you’d ransomed your soul to the devil. Your blood ran cold, not because you lied; no, because you did love him, for some inexplicable reason beyond comprehension and better judgment, you truly loved Kai Anderson, as tainted and flawed as he was.

The true reason his question frightened you so much was that you knew what would come next— the last time he asked this same question during a pinky power, he had made you do something horrible. He had instructed you to murder someone. And like a good girl, you had done exactly what you were told.

You waited with bated breath, bracing yourself for the command to carry out another unspeakable crime. But instead of issuing another kill order, Kai shocked you by smiling softly, his eyes alight with a warmth that sent shivers down your spine.

“I love you too, so much,” he murmured, clasping your hand in his, leaning forward.

The softness of his lips and the warmth of his touch stirred something dangerous within you, a flicker of hope. For a fleeting moment, you allowed yourself to entertain the possibility that this was real, that maybe, just maybe, there was some semblance of truth buried beneath his manipulation and deceit.

So you indulged yourself, kissing him back with fervor borne from desperation. Kai groaned against your lips, hand sliding further into your hair and kissing you with a focus that made your knees weak.

When you finally pulled away, Kai’s eyes snapped open and he groaned softly, this time with frustration. But he wasn’t mad at you, at least. Smiling ruefully, he brushed his thumb across your cheek,

“I wish you could be mine forever,”

“I can be,” you replied without hesitation, the words slipping from your lips before you could stop them. He beamed.

“Then let's make it official,”

“Huh?”

“I'm going to marry you,” he stated matter-of-factly, “Because you're strong, resilient, intelligent, and beautiful.. you’re everything I dreamed of having in a partner.”

Despite the warm fuzzy feeling spreading in your belly, you didn’t buy it. Not for a second, as much as you desperately wanted to believe it. With your pinkies still locked, you mustered the courage to ask,

“What is this really about?”

For a moment, he fell silent, his expression caught off guard by your boldness. Perhaps he was even a bit offended by the questioning of his motives. But then, the mask of calm slipped back into place.

“It's about us,” he began, words measured.

“Oh cut the bullshit, Kai. If I'm going to be in on this charade, I want to know what I’m getting myself into,”

A flash of annoyance crossed Kai's features like summer lighting before he quickly composed himself once again, the mask of calm slipping seamlessly back into place.

“Fine,” he gritted, “It's part of my strategy okay? Conservative voters don't take me seriously because I'm not 'family-oriented' enough. Marrying you, presenting a united front, we could change that perception.”

You weren’t surprised, not even mad or disappointed by his admission. You had suspected as much all along, but hearing it confirmed still left a bitter taste in your mouth.

“Fine,” you echoed morosely. Now he was the one who looked surprised.

“Really?”

“Yeah.” With a tight-lipped smile, you pulled apart your locked fingers and stood up, the scraping sound of the chair against the floor was deafening in your ears.

“Thanks. You're my first choice, you know,” he added hastily, “I was hoping you’d say yes,”

You turned away before he could see the tears that had begun to form. A part of you wanted to believe him. Really did.

⟡ 𝓙: here’s a lil playlist to make up for the shitty writing

ılılı love the way you lie—eminem, rihanna ・i should hate you—gracie abrams・i know you—skylar grey

TAGLIST @acidbrainstorm @evanpetersmybf @alittlesil @kaiandersonsdevotedwife @baby-doll1989 @newwavesylviaplath @warrenpikasgirlfriend @violet1737 @slvt4jamesmarch @kaismanwich @maddaline @evpeters87 @lacucarachapisser @howtobesasha @lissasharp @feefymo @nickrhodeslittledarling @bluerthanvelvet444 @r8ttenapples @nahoyasboyfriend @kai-slut @imsoamazing26 @silence-in-the-silver-state @coentinim @doll3tt33 @taintandviolent @babygorewhore @babydollxxblood @stveharringtn

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warm-concrete · 6 months

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Weapon & Wound.

Pairing: Astarion x Fem!Reader

Summary: Struggling with her own identity, constantly fighting her impulsive nature and running from the many regrets of her past, Tav had given up on most parts of her life, until she was abducted.

Now, Tav feels this strange instinctive responsibility to help this growing group of weirdos she’s amassing. People she’s never felt more at home around. And, maybe, she’s started to hope that if she’s able to get them all out of this mess, she’ll be relieved of the shame. The guilt she hasn’t been able to escape.

Although, whenever she finds herself with a certain pale elf, Tav can’t help but feel, even if everything went to shit and she fucked everything up again, that she might just be content to lay in his arms.

What a dangerous feeling.

Word Count: 4.7k

Link - - - - - > Ao3

Earlier than he would usually slip into the forest, driven by the hunger of his failed hunt the night before, Astarion had left the campsite. Treading lightly along his usual path, Astarion only just succeeded in controlling his breath at the sight of a panther purring quietly in a opening beside him.

It’s pelt shined as it bathed in the orange light of dusk. He noted that it’s coat wasn’t interrupted with any scarring, despite it obviously being an adult, and briefly mused that it might be a lost pet.

Astarion distracted himself briefly with a thought of the beast attentively sitting by his feet, guarding him as his sat on some ornate throne. He smiled. Then registered the seat and surrounding room he’d imagined was just memories of Cazador’s palace. What a ridiculous thing, to be back there in every thought, every hope.

He almost pitied the thought of disturbing its regal bliss. He’d been turned long enough to know better than to entertain any thoughts of refusing his nature. This was the hand fate had dealt him, forced to go from temptation to temptation: a rat, a beast, a boar. Whatever would satiate. He had some liberty now: my hunger is my own. He told himself, hoping to find some meaning in the phrase as he whispered it.

In the precious minutes he’d slide by, the creature’s slowly pumping heart overtook every other sound. Astarion attempted focus, though his desire throbbed, reacting different to the other things he’d hunted. The smell of its blood silenced any coherent thoughts as he drifted behind it. The aroma filled his mouth, now wet with want, it tasted somehow familiar like a favourite childhood dinner that he’d long forgotten. His body begged him to take it in his teeth.

Astarion loomed over muscle and the flesh; its fur was a tar pit trap. He was nothing but a blind fool, drawn into a void.

⭐︎

Fawn yowled awake at the piercing puncture of a dagger between her ribs, followed by a weight over her back legs of some creature that had latched itself into her neck. She thrashed around and clawed at anything she could reach; an arm. Struggling to free herself from its grip, Fawn shifted back to her normal body, her pain instantly dissipating, and finally turned to face her assailant.

“Ff- What?” Escapes Astarion’s mouth as he finds himself biting around air and halfway on top of a semi-naked Fawn, her stoney-blue skin was untainted and only covered by a white-lace, sheer bra and these matching ruffled undershorts.

She knocked the dagger away from where it fell beside her. “Gods. Get the fuck off of me!” She finally spits as she shoves him hard, on his chest.

The rest is posted on Ao3 !!

⭐︎

Sneaky Jump Ahead: (spoilers)

Her quick agreement left Astarion wide-eyed, but only for a moment. A devilish smirk replaced his shock: “I’ll be, uh- more gentle this time. Shall we get comfortable?” Fawn plopped down in the dry grass and crossed her legs, it was still warm beneath her but the last of the sun had quickly disappeared. ‘Make your mark.’ Another warped murmur escaped from somewhere deep within. Astarion cleared his throat as he knelt down next to her- the fabric of his trousers resting against her exposed thigh. “I was hoping you would…” He mimed a straight line with his hands. “Might make things easier.” Fawn considered his request for a beat and then dutifully laid back for him. Staring at him as he leaned over and placed his hands on the ground above her shoulders. Just as she started to wonder what she would do with her own hands, Astarion leant in and pierced her neck. The shock of his cold fangs made Fawn gasp and involuntarily reach for his waist. Trying to steady herself, Fawn grabbed a handful of his shirt with one hand and a tuft of grass with the other, and the warmth of his lips sucked at the fresh wound in her neck. She noticed the quickened beating of her pulse and lifted her body just slightly off the ground; she leant into his bite, she leant into him. A breath she had been holding in escaped her. As if in response, she felt Astarion’s lips hover over her neck as he heaved before reattaching himself, like a mage hand had pulled him forward. He was feverishly trying to gulp down her blood. Fawn didn’t need the tadpole to know the only word on his mind was ‘More’. Attempting to get a better grip or angle into her taste, Astarion’s fingers mindlessly found themselves against her jaw and turned her head. In chorus with this frustration he hitched his knee over and straddled her lower-half for the second time that evening.

Fawn could begin to feel her blood flowing through him, her heartbeat was in his chest. She let out another short breath as she could unmistakably feel his erection pressed against her midriff. His grip had slipped from her jaw to the side of her neck bereft of his mouth and tightened, but she didn’t realise. A creeping numbing sensation washed through each artery. Every limb of hers started to buzz. She hadn’t felt it in years, the distinct tingling when your body is desperately trying to stay alive with less and less blood to do so. With the feeling, of course, came his face. His thin but prominent lips. The sharp pointed teeth that rested beneath them, well, sharp for a human. She wanted to retch. If it had been possible to recoil more into the ground, she would have. “‘starion…” Fawn tried to mumble against his shoulder, fighting a lump in her throat. He was pressing all but her head into the grass now, lost in his hunger for this new essence. With each separate gulp Astarion had started to move back then slightly forwards, he was unknowingly grinding himself against her. Fawn fought against the memories pricking against her skin, the memories of her mistakes, her past, her lover. It was like Astarion was draining the secrets from her veins. “Salvatore.” Shit. She hadn’t meant to say that aloud. She hadn’t meant to say anything at all. As if she didn’t have enough festering in her skull. Luckily, Astarion was far too enamoured by her wet, hot blood to have heard her. She silently thanked the sky; no time for confessions, she resolved.

With her slip, came an urgency. She didn’t want him to know of her gift, as Salvatore had called it. It might make turning him down in the future… difficult. So, with the last of her strength she put a hand to his neck and pushed: “Stop.” she managed less of a mumble than before. She squeezed her eyes shut.

#bg3 #astarion x female reader #astarion x female tav #astarion smut #astarion x you #astarion x tav #astarion #astarion x reader #bg3 smut #bg3 fanfiction

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nightmarevore · 6 months

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I Get a Craving and I Wake Up For You

6/?

First | Previous | Next (wip)

AO3 LINK.

Rowan belongs to @wonderful-bellies. Luke belongs to me. (Medli wrote half of this chapter! We're going to be writing together from now on!)

Rowan sits alone.

Rowan doesn’t know what’s wrong with him. He can’t let people get close to him, because he’s just going to hurt them. He tries to push his roommate, Luke, away, and things just get worse. He’d hurt Luke. Does he even care? He doesn’t want to hurt Luke, but he ended up hurting him anyway. He knew that the moment he thought of eating Luke more than once that things would go down hill, and they did.

Oliver called him an asshole. Luke started panicking and shrunk down, unresponsive. Oliver made it sound like he was the cause of that, and he was right. It was ROWAN who cut Luke off and got in his face. ROWAN, who yelled at him and told him he wasn’t interested. He had to lie. Of COURSE he did. If he didn’t, Luke was going to end up just like…

The predator groans, slapping his face and pinching the bridge of his nose. Don’t think about it, don’t think about it.

His predator urges were always so easy to control. They never were so bad. Rowan used to be able to go weeks to a month without needing to bribe someone to be eaten and stay in his stomach for an hour or two. They would never see each other again.

Rowan lays down flat in his bed, keeping his hands covering his face. He feels so horrible. Like a massive dumbbell is compressing his chest. If he had one with him now, he’d definitely lay it on his chest. The feeling within his chest overwhelmed him. It felt like a heavy, black tar that pumps itself from his heart and into his veins.

He hates this feeling.

“What did I do wrong?” He asks himself.

A lot, clearly.

“For Luke’s sake, you’d best think of an apology. You were being an asshole, and I can’t believe you can’t see how hard he’s trying to make this work with you. The way I see it, you don’t deserve it.”

If pushing people away made him an asshole, maybe being an asshole is okay.

( No, you idiot! Oliver essentially told you that you triggered him and forced him to shrink like that. That was YOUR fault, and he felt it necessary to use sarcasm. )

But what if he hurts Luke by being open with his predator bullshit?

He doesn’t even know how he was being an asshole in the first place. He was trying to protect Luke from Rowan himself. How is that an asshole thing to do?

Could he have been nicer in tone about it? Maybe his yelling is what forced Luke to shift tiny. It triggered something that Luke felt he needed to hide, right? It was something that Luke was hiding from Rowan, just like Rowan tried to hide the fact he’s a predator from Luke.

Oliver said that Luke never tells anyone what he goes through. It’s the same thing as himself, isn’t it? God, it’s like his hunger forcing fugues, isn’t it? His stress forced his body to change size. Stress that he caused. The fact that the predator was responsible for that…

Rowan, for all his faults, tries so hard to keep himself from hurting people. He was told that the fact he needed to eat people was something to be ashamed of. It would hurt other people. Instead, he hurt Luke just by… well, being himself. Not by being a predator.

Why does the thought of this bring such agony to the man? Why does his stomach churn uncomfortably at the thought? Why does Rowan feel nauseous?

He may as well dig a pit for himself and fall into it. Disappear and never return. He’d already fucked up this roommate situation. Luke’s going to get rid of him. Oliver will tell him to kick Rowan out, and it’ll be what Rowan deserves. He doesn’t deserve anything nice.

He should starve himself.

No, No, wait… No he shouldn't. He shouldn’t, because the last time he didn’t feed himself around Luke, he nearly fell into a fugue, and the second time he did fall into a fugue. What was he supposed to do, then?

Hide the monster, never let anyone get too close and risk seeing that side of him. It was his one rule, his biggest most important rule. It was the first lesson he’d learned as a predator. He is dangerous, he is deserving of punishment in the face of his voracious instincts. The lesson was drilled into his head; a flashing neon sign. Always reminding him in his subconscious that he was a monster and always would be.

So why… Why did it always seem to go so wrong? Hiding this side of him was supposed to keep himself and others safe. Being distant was a necessity, yet the pattern was becoming clear to him. He’d lash out, and others would get hurt. The worst part of it all was one simple fact that pushed its way to the forefront of his mind as he sat alone in the all too quiet apartment. It was because of him.

Him. Not the predator. The predator came through and caused its own problems, of course, but what happened today? What kept happening for years? It was always simply because of him. Not the hunger, nor the fugues. Rowan clenched his fingers hard into his palms as nails sank into his flesh, nearly drawing blood. The revelation pounding in his mind and repeating itself over and over. A chorus of voices, vitriolic and unrelenting.

Rowan was not only a ravenous freak, he was simply a terrible person, as well.And he did not know what to do.

He felt stuck. He felt dirty. A virus that planted itself in one location to wreak havoc upon its environment until it fell apart around him and then moved on to the next. Starvation was not an option, as it would bring out the monster. Isolation was what got him into this situation in the first place. So what could he possibly do? He wishes he could just cease to exist. Erase himself from history entirely. Wipe the slate clean of his presence and avoid so much unnecessary hurt brought upon so many people. His family, his friends, his…

The predator scowls as he feels hot tears trail down his face. He had no right to cry. Oliver was right, this was all because of him. Rowan was dragging down Luke with him. It wasn’t right. He shouldn’t be here wallowing in his own miserable thoughts. He hurt another person, and the thought of running away and ignoring it again was unbearable. The shifter would be back. After Oliver fixed the mess he created, Luke would inevitably come back. Whether it was to gather his things and leave or continue living with his asshole of a roommate, Rowan wasn’t sure, but he would see the brunette again eventually. He needed to be prepared for it. He has no idea what he’s going to do, but he needs to do something.

Fuck, Rowan, get yourself together and fucking figure it out!

The predator slaps his face and clears his throat a couple times. He had to do something. The lump in his throat wasn’t getting any smaller by sitting like this.

Thinking of a way to say sorry and truly mean it would be a good place to start.

Thinking of a way to avoid closing himself off and making the same mistake twice would be a perfect place to start.

#i get a craving and wake up for you #size on the side #sots #luke #rowan #luke and rowan #vore mention #craving #vore story #male pred #rowan baby boy #you have so much trauma #oh my god

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ahollowgrave · 7 months

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Portentous (adjective): eliciting amazement or wonder. // the work is never done.

(I am unsure what to tag directly but please know this writing contains horror elements.)

This place is holy.

Was?

No -- is, you decide. It is no longer used but what does that mean to the hands that blessed it so long ago?

You gingerly sidestep a cobweb older than you.

Your nose itches, threatening a sneeze.

Ahead of you, the wailing continues.

Behind you, None waits. You had them stay outside, nearly apologetic, dismissing it as a whim.

None had stared up at you -- how novel for you! -- with their serious dark eyes and their serious frown and in their serious voice they had said: “I trust you. You trust you.” And then they had sat on a rock and jerked their chin at you in a clear gesture: get going.

You got going.

This place had been abandoned quickly. There are rotten baskets with their contents scattered across the floor. Abandoned chests tower in corners and near doorways. Forgotten toys and tools dot the hallways. It is all covered in a choking layer of dust.

Your footsteps are light, silent, as you press onward. With each threshold, you feel it get colder. At certain points you stop and still yourself, unfocusing your mind. A current, invisible but insistent, pulls at your skirt. A river diverged from the source. You follow it and as you do, the wailing grows louder.

You and None have heard it for three nights now. An unnatural screaming cry that freezes the forest with fear. Finally, you have found the source of it.

When you come upon her it is a surprise to both of you.

The corridor you had been following ends suddenly and opens into a big, central space. The upper portion disappears into the darkness but you can see the dying light of the day. Rays fall into the cavern, illuminating the carpet of animal bones that surround a long-dark cooking pit.

Your ears ring with the remembrance of laughter and music and life.

Surrounding the cooking fire are the rotten remains of several benches and seats. A shrouded sits -- perches -- on one of them. And it cries.

Great big gut-wrenching, shoulder-shaking, teeth-clacking sobs. Occasionally one of them reaches a high enough note to make your head spin, to make you feel sick to your stomach.

It hasn’t noticed you.

“… Hello?” You call out. You absolute idiot.

Abruptly, the crying stops and you are all too aware of being studied. The figure before you hasn’t moved but you feel the unmistakable weight of a stare.

Your sluggish heart skips a beat, a difficult thing for the old goat to do.

“… Sorry.” Why. Why would you speak again?

You are not allowed to scold yourself for long.

A face - a duskwight woman - is suddenly in front of you. She is too thin, her bones poke through her skin like a needle just before it punctures fabric. Her hair is a tangled, wild mess. She is nude. She is horrifying. She is the most beautiful woman you have ever seen. There is a large puncture wound between her breasts, weeping a tar-like substance. Her eyes are liquid black. Tears stain her cheeks. She has been crying for years.

Her eyes are so big.

You are falling into them.

“Hi.” Why.

She screams in your face.

You think this is what being skinned feels like.

She is reaching for you and her hands are claws, perfect for scooping out soft insides.

You reach back for her. Your cane clatters to the stone floor but the gem wrapped in its living branches continues to glow. You take a clumsy step forward - you have never embraced a woman before - and you wrap your arms around her.

You trust yourself.

You palm the back of her head and feel what remains of her hair detach beneath the pressure. Your other palm flattens between the sharp point of her shoulder blades. You press her to you, guiding her head to the crook of your neck.

You wait for the feeling of claws in your gut.

They do not come.

You are both terribly still.

You cry so much that it does not surprise you when you start to cry, now. Your face buries itself in her shoulder -- distantly, you’re aware of goo on your skin -- and you cling to her like you have wanted to cling to so many others. You feel hands at your back and then you are pulled tighter against the spectre.

When she starts to cry it is different. It does not set your teeth on edge and does not pierce into the center of your brain. It is simply the cry of a scared and wounded girl.

She has cried for so long. Alone.

“I am so sorry,” your voice is the sound of falling snow, “You can leave it with me.”

By the time your tears dry it is the Lover’s light that filters through the holes in the roof of the cavern. A moth of shiny black clings to the front of your robe. There is, indeed, goo on your skin and clothing.

None is waiting for you, patient as the river.

#ffxivwrite2023 #AHHHHHHHH #this is three pages long becuase i loooooove a new line #but also it is pretty long !!#so no pressure to actually read but i!!!!!!!!!!! appreicate those who do v. much #maybe it is silly to help a ghost with hugs and crying with it but also #idk #grimace #i'm feeling ahhhhhh about this im gonna share it and crawl into a hole #pigeon writing

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nabulsi · 9 months

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i don't know how to properly verbalise this but. i hate the global cultural monopoly the usa has. i hate that when topics go viral in the United States they go viral everywhere else too. because that means when gay and trans rights are under threat in the usa, in my country, where gay and trans rights were never even on the table, our government doubles down on hating gay people. they double down on culturally boycotting anything queer. anything that would make queer people living here feel like normal people. bigots double down on their bigotry. they feel the need to bring it up at every social gathering. just when we let our guards down and feel normal for 5 seconds, we're not allowed, we're reminded that we're not normal and we'll never be considered normal. and honestly, i feel like im in a tar pit sinking deeper until i disappear. and if the usa's culture and society weren't so loud, at least people here would forget gay and trans people exist and we wouldn't be accepted but at least we wouldn't be under fire in a place where we have a lot less protections.

#and its not the fault of queer ppl in the usa but the homophobes in government making their sexuality or gender a controversial issue #but sometimes i wish i could go back to 3 years ago when id never even heard my mom's opinion on gay rights #instead of the present where my abuser talks about how much she hates gay and trans people at least once a week #and gets passive aggressive with me if I don't immediately say something bigoted about myself to make her feel validated #paptalk

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randomwriteronline · 3 months

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Pohatu was not here.

Kopaka registered the thought in an objective manner, not angry nor relieved, and kept laying down in the half miserable little cave in Ko-Metru which might as well have been his sad attempt at a den.

Misfortunes and blessings always come in groups of six; so of course six Visorak had stubbornly remained in Metru Nui even a thousand years after being told to scram, one for each of its sections, and of course each Toa Nuva (Takanuva notwithstanding, furtunately) had gotten bitten by one of the disgusting little pests while exploring the desolate city that felt so incredibly unnatural compared to the island paradise they had just left, and of course the Hordika venom had ensnared them all in an iron fist and mutated them into six new unwanted flavors of monstrous Rahi-adjacent beings.

Sure, they weren't alone in this hellish situation: there were the Matoran, and the Turaga, and the Rahaga, and Keetongu. Technically speaking, this should have been a non-issue, and it shouldn't have been taking so long to be rectified - it was just a matter of wrangling the Nuva up all together, making them hold hands, slapping the majestic Rahi in their circle of friendship, and boom. Problem solved. No more Hordika. But things could never simple, and this time the new complications were caused by the very simple fact that the venom had that annoying effect of adding on top of the already horrendous packaging of the new forms a nice complementary picnic basket of inane oddities and instincts that had immediately taken over the Toa's lives and made them even harder to handle than they already were.

It is one thing to deal with a bunch of seven-foot-tall children who came out of their canisters full of elemental powers, a lot of fighting experience, and no knowledge of the world whatsoever. It's even more of a hassle to look after those same barely matured kids after they've promptly gotten even more power, instantly had it stripped away, regained it, gotten the tar beaten out of them by snakes in gundam suits, and gained a brand new even taller baby brother. All things considered, the former Toa Metru and their villages had done egregiously already.

But to deal with semi-feral Toa was a new can of beans entirely.

Not that the interested specimens were having an easier time wrangling themselves - by all means, they were failing at that rather spectacularly: Gali had begun voicing her displeasure with her brothers in more assertive manners, which would have been very healthy if she also hadn't fallen into a habit of roaring them into submission and smacking them around like Kohlii balls if they were too stubborn for her opinion; Tahu had put Ta-Metru under a protective seige of one, essentially, yelling at his siblings to piss off when he saw them come too close and whining inconsolably when his cries and growls frightened the Matoran away from him as he tried to groom them clean almost obsessively; it had taken roughly two days to find Lewa after he'd mutated, plus one and a half to catch him, the other half to convince him not to start another round of Tag across the Metru and another good dozen hours to make him promise to engage in less expansive games before they had to do all that again, because keeping him put did not work; a group of Matoran was now glued to Onua to keep him company and give him little safe excavation tasks so he would not dig directly through the Archives' floors and into the deepest pits of the world, because the last time he absentmindedly started doing that he almost collapsed half of Onu-Metru and thank the Great Spirit Taipu had managed to drag him back up or they might have lost him forever to the depths; and Kopaka, of course, had gotten an enormous anxiety attack due to his horrifying appearance and had decided that the only way to handle this was to disappear into the mountains for an indeterminate amount of time, possibly forever, avoiding any and all contact with civilization before either his looks scared someone to death or he was laughed at into his grave.

Pohatu was fine. Because of course, Pohatu was fine. He'd gotten the sensory overload of a lifetime for all of ten minutes, and then he'd gotten immediately over it and taken it all in stride. As Pohatu does.

He'd very quickly acclimated to his new body, senses, instincts, and secret languages, and since there was technically nothing wrong with him he had been allowed to leave his Metru and try to help out his siblings regain their minds from the intensity of their uncontrollable Hordika moods. His intervention had generally proven irreplaceable in those terms: just by splaying himself on the ground he was able to calm his brothers and sister's boiling rage, he could coax them into playing or stopping almost on command, and thanks to the way he angled his body at every step his mere presence soothed them into a more agreeable state. He'd even managed to find Kopaka and be admitted into his sad little recluse home, bringing him toys or food or water and tending to his needs - including his fears and his desire for privacy from wayward Matoran who tried to seek him out, reassuring them that their Toa was just fine and they needn't worry about a thing.

Perhaps he was almost a little too comfortable in this situation. Almost like this entire ordeal had given him a new role among their group, their pack - that of the peace-keeper, of the calming presence, the one who keeps everybody happy and at ease for the sake of themselves and those around them - which nobody else had been able to fill, thus easing his nagging worries about what exactly he brought of worth to the team. Maybe this was how the Hordika venom was trying to corrupt him, promising a shield from his anxieties in exchange for his and his siblings' real natures.

Kopaka pawed at the ground and furrowed his expression. His mind felt too disgruntled and heavy for these thoughts.

His entire being had been feeling too disgruntled and heavy for anything in the past few days. It was like having a weird itch in a point of the back that is just unreachable without putting yourself in an awkward position that is just as if not even more uncomfortable. Standing up was a chore, and while moving around did help it wouldn't stop the annoying sensation from sitting all over him with a light but maddeningly ever shifting weight; so he generally preferred to lounge around lazily as he allowed the days to pass him by, looking like the spit image of depression. Not that he was depressed in truth, he felt anything but - he was just... Fatigued. Lethargic. Uninterested. Maybe just too busy trying to shake off that bothersome feeling to focus on anything else around him. He had responded so differently to so many different stimuli already, he reasoned, so who was to say this couldn't have had something to do with the climate, then? If that was the case, he hated that. How dare this new form make him so tired and devoid of energy in his preferred environment and weather. He wasn't going to look for a hotter place to stay at, that was certain: the Hordika could be as miserable as it wanted here in the snow, but the Toa refused to be made miserable by migrating to any of the other Metrus.

While he'd been stuck in this funk, Pohatu had been stuck at his side. He hadn't seemed too worried about his condition, but he definitely wasn't too keen on it either: he was always gently coaxing him into at least some activity every day, usually through some of the puzzle toys that Onewa would carve for him and that he placed with Kopaka's reach, not forcing him to engage with them but offering him some low effort entertainment nonetheless, or simply sitting or laying by his side to nap with him if he really couldn't stomach to move at all. He had decided to handle the hunting for him as well, as he was clearly too distracted by his inexplicable condition to fetch food properly. It was logical to imagine that he was off getting breakfast for the both of them right now.

How nice he was, Pohatu. Nice and reliable. A real sweetheart, when he put himself to it.

Normally, when the Rahi instincts within him stirred and dropped their muddled thoughts into his mind, Kopaka snarled and shook his head in an attempt at getting them out of himself; he was his own master, thank you very much, and he did not need nor let alone want some incorporeal semi-voice to tell him what to think or do or feel.

In this case, however, he didn't fight back against them. Why should he? They were right. Pohatu was nice, reliable, and a sweetheart. Those were simple objective facts he had known and been keenly aware of for months by now - nothing less, nothing more. Even an idiot would have come to the exact same conclusions, because they were true. The mere fact that the Toa of Stone had thought of seeking him out to check on him in the first place and then decided on sticking around in a relatively unobtrusive and pleasant manner upon seeing his sorry state spoke volumes of his kindness and patience already. None of their other siblings would have managed to stand him like that, especially in their current situation.

Yes, Pohatu was so kind, the beast within him nodded as it began kneading at the ground: a very kind, very good being. He was open and friendly, so willing to listen even when he got bored, terribly stubborn and yet also fast, strong, protective, steady - maybe his quick thinking got the best of his common sense and he was not too smart at times, but that wasn't anything Kopaka couldn't fix. He had proved himself to be a great provider in times of need, and awfully loyal to boot - so many chances to desert him in favor of someone else, someone more agreeable, more fun, more pleasant, like he was, and yet it was always the Toa of Ice he was drawn to the most... He was so good at handling smaller beings as well, taking care not to frighten them too much if unnecessary: when Matoro had come around looking for Kopaka on Nuju's behalf, Pohatu had taken it upon himself to greet the Matoran in his peer's stead, carefully posing himself to appear as inoffensive as possible so that the little hunter would not react violently against him. He had even helped Matoro on his hunt, and made sure to secure him on Kopaka's back so that he would have a safe trip back to the slowly rebuilding Metru while he carried enough food for all of the villagers waiting - even allowing them to actually bask in their Toa's presence for a few minutes before his anxiety demanded kicking and screaming to be whisked as far away from people as possible again, yet another wish fulfilled by his Stone peer's unmatched affability reassuring Turaga and Matoran alike that he'd look after him. A kind heart in a powerful body; yes, his instincts purred again, making his entire frame stretch out across the ground with a sudden rise of delight, Pohatu really was a great candidate, and Kopaka was so caught up in the satisfaction of that assertion that he didn't even stop to wonder what that meant.

He pulled himself to his feet, feeling reinvigorated all of a sudden. His joints popped with a pleasant feeling, and a strange antsy excitement coursed through them in careful jolts: he began pacing around the cave restlessly, almost trotting, his previously stifling itch turning into a soft energy that pervaded his entire frame. His stomach shifted a little with a low rumbling growl and his mouth started to salivate: he probably must have been hungry, though he didn't quite feel like eating yet, either. Strange. No matter. A great candidate, his instincts kept repeating, a perfect candidate, and despite not knowing what exactly the phrase referenced he couldn't help but agree wholly, feeling more and more energized.

If Pohatu had said he didn't miss his normal body, that would have been a plain lie - but he had to admit, readjusting his teeth's grip around the poor no longer breathing thing that had the unfortunate duty of being his and Kopaka's breakfast today, that wading through the snow on four legs was much easier that on two. It still wasn't ideal by all means, what with the wet feeling it left on him and having to trudge through it because he couldn't help but sink in the freezing cold stuff; however, he'd take the mild discomfort over nearly falling face first in the white cover at every other step.

His back wagged a little. What was he excited about, he wondered briefly, interrogating his rumbling instincts? The speedier travel, the food in his mouth, or the fact that he was almost at his destination? The Rahi in his chest made him jump into a few piles of snow for the fun of it: a bit of all of that, he assumed in the end, plus the hopes that Kopaka would be awake enough to eat with him. The Toa of Ice had been woefully under the weather recently, laying around most if the time, not even wanting to go out hunting. He wasn't big on playing, Pohatu had realized very quickly - or at least not on the sort of roughhousing that their other siblings enjoyed destressing through from time to time, which made sense considering his character. No, he had much more fun tracking down scents and footprints, stalking little beasts with his light paws barely pressing dents onto the snow as he almost slid across it only to suddenly jump high!, and lodge his snout into the candid mound so hard that his spine bent from the momentum and sent him sprawling on the ground, tiny unmoving prey proudly secured in his jaws so tight that it probably hadn't even realized what had happened. He was a joy to watch, frankly, so graceful and goofy and happy - it made Pohatu almost whimper ruefully at his inability to emulate him: they could have had fun racing each other after ice lizards, or maybe one could have hidden in the snow and the other would have had to track him down and pounce him, or even just going off to find food together... Kopaka's sudden melancholy had managed to keep him even from his preferred source of fun, and if it kept going on like this the Toa of Stone was going to start seriously worrying for him.

It wasn't anything to be scared of, his instincts soothed him once again: it was a normal if fragile state for his peer to be in, just passing a little slow. His mere presence was helping, he was certain of it - he just had to wait for the right signal. After that, everything would have gone right back to how it always had been without a hitch. In the meantime all he had to do was take good care of him and make sure his needs were met.

It was very, very important, to show he could look after him so well; the Toa of Ice needed to be assured of that as much as possible, lest he found him unsuitable in the end. The beast within made his stomach clench at that discomforting thought, no doubt just as worried about losing such a close friend as Pohatu himself was. Felling his anxieties mount over his spine, the Toa breathed through his occupied teeth and calmed himself: there was no need to worry about such unlikely things, he reasoned, when Kopaka's body language had been consistently hollering with delight whenever the other so much as caught a glimpse or whiff of him. He had cuddled him out of his worst moments and offered him all of his support, and right now he had some fresh breakfast in his mouth just for him - or mostly for him, if he wasn't hungry enough or instead felt inclined to share. Pohatu could admit that hope was mostly gluttony, as he'd had quite a few snacks of his own already while stalking down a good enough prey for his friend, but still, eating together did always feel nicer than doing so all alone... But that wasn't important: the sight of the entrance brough him back to the present.

He readjusted his grip on the meal again and slipped into the cave, easily making his way into the innermost chamber. To his delighted surprise, Kopaka was up and about, looking much more energetic than he had in the past few days: he threaded across the ground restlessly as if looking for something, although his snout was not grazing the ground following a track and his stance was very different from the one he adopted when out hunting. He made a few quick turns, joints essentially sparking with energy, aching for something indeterminate. His curious, quiet enthusiasm stirred a satisfied excitement in Pohatu's chest, the source and meaning of it unknown; the Toa of Stone decided to make himself known by throwing the prey a little further in front of himself (just in case the other didn't feel like fake-battling for it for fun) and letting a long shudder cross his body to shove off any snow on it and make a curious yet mostly indiscreet noise which would have surely gotten the other Toa's attention. As predicted, Kopaka turned to look at him; Pohatu noted with no shortage of curiosity that his eyes were unusually clear.

He pointed with his snout to the breakfast he'd caught for his friend, wiggling with pride just a little bit. And yet, despite the rumble in his gut certainly pointing towards his hunger, the Toa of Ice did not even look at the tasty morsel but instead kept his gaze fixed onto his peer with a sort of twinkle in their light blue color, a quiet wordless excitement that made Pohatu's back straighten a little by reflex. Still in perfect silence, Kopaka trotted over to him until their noses grazed one another as though to sniff him - which made it all the more surprising when instead he ducked his head under the other's jaw and leaned heavily against him, rubbing between the crook of his neck and chin. Before the Toa of Stone could fully grasp the motion his friend had already slid his entire body against that spot, the bumpy spine massaging his tough skull from underneath it before slinking away once more, putting a little distance between them but immediately turning to look at him with that same strange gaze while Pohatu stumbled a little in an attempt to follow along so that the velvety feeling would continue. It struck him only then: Kopaka smelled really, really good.

Did he want to play? Kopaka never wanted to play. Not roughhousing. But something in the way he posed himself before him was very deliberately making him want to flatten to the ground and jump him, roll with him, push him, cling to him. His eyes frantically looked all over him, trying to decode his physical language and coming up with blanks - he seemed to be nudging him closer to something, but what? He'd never seen his siblings speak like that. His confusion was slowly overwhelmed by another feeling, one he couldn't put a word to - his instincts were clearly familiar with it though, seeing as they were singing along with it, exalted, delighted, bursting with joy: their reasonings weren't fully comprehensible (many of them weren't) but amidst the confusion clouding his mind he still understood the enthusiasm coursing through him, and that this was fine, this was great! He had done everything just right! Kopaka was over the stars about the careful and attentive way he'd been treated, and now he was inviting him! Waiting for him! All he had to do was follow his lead!

The Toa of Ice watched him intently. He trotted closer once again to repeat the motion: something in Pohatu's chest jumped as he felt those hips rub against his chin, and one of his legs rushed above and over them, to trap him - which caused Kopaka to swiftly slink away again, widening the gap between them with a sudden stiffness.

Right, right - this was Kopaka's game, under Kopaka's rules.

The Toa of Stone flattened to the ground sheepishly, asking for forgiveness with wide guilty eyes. He hadn't meant to do anything wrong, he'd just gotten a bit too excited... Could he really blame him? No, he read in the smooth tilt of his peer's head, he really couldn't, not when they both had that confused antsyness animating them. Another chance, just one, alright? But be careful this time. Just follow my lead, the cadence of his steps said as he approached him for the third time while his new tantalizing smell bloomed from him so magnificently that it almost made his peer shake, and wait until the right time. I'll show you. You will? I will. You promise? I promise.

Pohatu held himself very still as their snouts almost touched. On his best behaviour, wasn't he? Kopaka's throat rumbled, pleased and amused; his nose dug into the crook of the other's neck playfully, to make him squirm a little and ease him up. No need for all that formality - just pay close attention. His head slid under the Toa's chin, rubbing against it as he slid forward, and soon his skull was replaced by his neck, then his shoulders, then his back, his waist, his hips... Just as his tailbone was about to break contact, something snapped for the both of them: Pohatu shifted in an almost liquid manner until he was essentially laying on him, legs aligned with his own, chest and stomach pressed against his spine; Kopaka wriggled beneath his weight until he deemed himself comfortable enough, and his entire upper body went down placidly, laying on the comfortably cold ground while a sweet nose rubbed his nape affectionately and tickled it by sniffing.

A sudden pressure caused them to pause for the fraction of a second, confused. But their insticts purred loudly in tandem, the vibrations rattling through them so comforting and soothing, reassuring them it was alright, reassuring them everything was just fine and normal and good, everything was going perfectly, and they were doing so very good; so the Toa were gently sat back down once again and simply watched, curious, a little excited even, as the Hordika resumed to move in perfect synchrony, filling a void they didn't even know was there with a comfortable warmth.

The sensation was so good that they didn't even register anything else they might have been doing. The rest of the world didn't exist: there was just comfortable weight, their bodies' shapes fitting together like puzzle pieces, a gentle ondulating rhythm, and purring.

So much delightful and delighted purring.

All of a sudden the pressure increased again, much more forceful: Kopaka grumbled and squirmed at that, stopping his intense kneading as discomfort slithered into his mind. Pohatu was quick to nuzzle the side of his head in order to soothe him, promising it wasn't anything to be concerned about - but he too could feel it, some kind of uncomfortable opposition that kept him from going forward. He just needed a moment, a very quick moment, and if he could relax for just a second, if he could help him... They slipped closer against each other in unison, growling quietly to get rid of the foreign sensations together, and the action produced a welcome feeling, like sort sort of tactile equivalent of the onomatopoeia 'pop', dissolving both the pressure and the unpleasantness back into their rumbling enjoyment with a pair of long sighs.

The strain of getting through that moment had worn them out completely. They laid down on each other, not moving a single inch, eyes closed and breathing even; their paws rested close while they absentmindedly rubbed cheek to cheek, exchanging every now and then little licks to comfort each other without any real purpose, and their instincts continued to purr intensely, praising perfectly satisfied their performance.

They prattled on within their chests and minds about things that the two Toa couldn't hope to comprehend nor really wanted to try decoding at the moment, tired as they were.

Pohatu reached out enough to pull his morning haul a little closer: Kopaka nibbled on it without even prying an eye open, just thankful for the offered breakfast. They shared it like that, one laying over the other, buzzing with quiet affectionate rumbles between bites, wondering lazily what all of this had been about. By the time they were picking off the last morsels from the protodermis bones they'd each individually come to the conclusion not to think about any of this too much. The Toa of Ice was clearly feeling much better anyways, and his peer didn't seem to have caught whatever had been plaguing him during their strange game - so all in all, everything was back to normal.

It wasn't like this once in a lifetime happenstance was going to have any long standing repercussions in the future anyways...

#bionicle #kopaka #pohatu #kohatu #random writing #suggestive #extremely vaguely so. just the way i like it #its a hordika au! technically canon compliant due to it happening between lomn and iod but idc too much really #a discreet amount of the characterization for the nuva comes from crystaltoa's analysis tho i added the idea of pohatu wanting to stay rahi #also about that last paragraph.#:)#i will cancel this if i get too embarrassed

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thebabydragon · 13 days

Text

Consequences

Short story.

{What happens when you openly defy the dark lord in his own home}

Sauron x OC

《 From the tale of Sauron and the Haradrim Rejha》

She knew it was only a matter of time before her luck had run out. Before the leash yanked back a new. She had gotten close, so close as to reach the platform to the lower levels.... to fresh air. The very thought of fresh air giving her confidence and strength to push onward, to find a way. She had been so close.

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It was only when she found the platform that she was caught. It must have been strange seeing her there, un accompanied and wide-eyed. Of course, she was caught. A skulking Uruk, rousing from its stupor, snorted aloud and emerged from the alcove overlooking the platform. She had been careless.

Any fight she had left in her was all but spent on her defense against the stinking thing. Not her whit or blade spared her. Though she was not starved, she was little match against the creature and earned a sporting cut on her jaw as a reward. A favorable price to pay compared to what was to come.

She had been caught. This time, there would be no excuses. No forgiveness. If only she had been more careful.

With in little time, Rejha was standing in a familiar, circular parlor, a single man like guard not far behind. Jagged rock of cut, black caged around the room, framing lamp lit walls of deeper black. Only some flash of color graced her eyes. Red. A flicker of gold. She stared downward harshly. Her face reflected in the polished black, offering little comfort in the soft red hues of the oil lamps hanging above.

She could hear her heart racing in her ears, her knuckles white as they gripped her sleeves, persperarion glittered across her forehead despite the bitting cold.

At last, the sound of the adjacent doors opening stabbed her ears, flinching, she bit the inside of her cheek.

Soft foot fall and the gentle hiss of heavy fabrics slithered toward her at a steady pace, not a word spoken. She need not look up to know the individual. In the cold, the heat that enveloped from his presence was enough. He was a forges fire even from a distance. As the footsteps came before her, Rejha pursed her lips and lowered her head all the more.

Black folds of void like fabric pooled before her muddied boots like a tar pit. Though the sight made her knees tremble, she dare not close her eyes. She dare not raise her head.

Finally, the dreaded words were uttered. Her stomach dropping like a stone.

"You disobeyed." Came the voice. Like fingers over silk and blades to flesh. Rejha cringed at the sound. The silence following his words a relief.

She breathed out cautiously and uttered as firmly as she could.

"I did not leave the tower." She spoke bravely. "I did not go beyond your sight. I remained in Barad-dur as-."

She was cut off by a hiss of air above her. A sound that silenced her immediately.

"You think me so plain that your words would hide your true intent?" Under her jaw, Rejha felt a leathered hand take her chin and raise her gaze. The heat from his touch, nearly scalding. Now, looking upward, Rajha faced the full breadth and horror of her host. Black was all she could see, save for two piercing eyes that shone down brightly beneath a low hanging veil. The eyes of Sauron. Even veiled the sight wearied her to the bone.

"After my generosity, I had hoped you would show some respect as gratitude."

His thumb stroked over the cut she had received from the Uruk, the folds of the veil tilting ever so.

"I swear..." Rejha breathed carefully, her lungs feeling shallow. "I was not trying to leave... I just wanted to see the sky. Breath real air again. I am owed that."

The dark lords stature adjusted to full height and released her face. His hand disappeared under the veil, a soft suckling heard, and soon, the blood was gone from his thumb.

"You have shifted along the edge of my patience, Harad. You are owed what I see fit to give you."

The heat of his gaze was suffocating as she held eye contact with him. It was not out of feilty or foolishness that she did so. But the fear that if she looked away, he would strike her down, like a wild animal cornered.

"Yet as it stands, you have done little to earn such favor."

Rejha clenched her jaw, trying to compose herself despite his words. She must tread carefully. His voice was as honey, but his viperous words were meant to rile. To push her on to do something foolish.

Her hand ghosted the blade at her side. Her arm aching to seize the hilt and cut through her way to freedom. But such were foolish fantasies. How long would she stand against him in a fight? A second? A few seconds, if he were gracious. She would not last long. Nevertheless, her desire to draw her blade ever present.

"You can't keep me prisoner here when I have done no crime." She spoke evenly, slowly, as best she could. "My people expect me to return, I am needed home. What more could I serve to you if I am kept here, purposeless?"

Sauron's head perked. Whether he was taken aback, insulted, or intrigued by her was unknown. Though the heat of his gaze did not relent in the slightest. It intensified.

"Who is to say what your purpose is to me?" He lulled, now leisurely walking about her as though admiring something she did not see. "Is that for you to determine?" His hand gestured toward her in strict fashion. Displaying, slender, leather clad fingers, only his ring finger was missing from his hand. Rehja's stomach turned, averting her eyes she would rather stare into his gaze than look at his hand.

The hand that was cut....

"If it is my will, if my word commanded you, who are you to question it? Is it not my wisdom and power that leads your people to victory? Am I not your sire?"

Gritting her teeth, Rejha flinched as his hand retracted into the void of his garments. She felt as though she were tettering on the edge of a cliff, desperate to stand upright.

"A thousand times you are, my lord. I can not comprehend your grand designs, but nor can I serve you cut from my purpose. I am dust with out my garrison. Let me return to my people. Let me serve you as I am born to, with your armies. I can be of greater use as a scout, archer or emissary. Please, lord. See that I am perishing, be merciful."

At this, a huff of amusement rattled her ears as a sickening chuckle wandered from his chest. From the moment she had first opened her mouth infront of him there had been little hesitation or fear. True the woman had been terrified in his presence but spoke her mind regardless. He could see the expressions in the eyes of her garrison. Horrified at her imputence. But how refreshing it was.

"Your tongue does you credit in only that it amuses me." He hummed. "Your betters would grovel at my word, yet you quarell with me." His slender, towering form circled about her till he stood behind her, leaning down over her shoulder. "Were I in a less savory mood-." He cooed, his fingers stroking the intricate bangles of her head piece resting on her temple. "I would have you on your knees, humble you till you begged for my pardon."

Rehja's face took on heat and redness. She turned her head from his touch, scowling to repress the intent of his words.

A gesite that did not go unknoticed. Sauron removed his touch and spoke further.

"As you amuse me, I shall be merciful, aleviate you of your woes by putting them to rest. Your garrison is not coming back for you, Rejha. They have been commanded out of Mordor to continue their orders. Therefore, any attempt to leave Barad-dur would be as pointless as it would be deadly to you. Your people have gone."

A shallow gasp escaped Rejha's lips as the silken words of Sauron hissed into her ear. The very idea of such a betrayal cutting into her very chest. It could not be true. They would never leave her behind, they were family. Her brothers and sisters in battle.

And yet there she was. Still in with in the dark lord's tower, standing alone with in the very center of his evil. Alone.

Her garrison had gone.... she had been left behind. The devastation of reality gripped her as though her heart had been squeezed till it burst.

"Given this." Sauron continued. "It is pleasing to me that you are to remain in Barad-dur as long as I require it. To serve me as I deem you should."

Tears welled in Rejha's eyes, her vision blurred from fatigue and grief. She could not help it. After waiting so long, desperate to see her garrison again, to finally go home, the news of their departure was more than she could bare.

A pained breath escaped her lips as she turned back and stared into the blackened void behind her. His two eyes watching intently.

"You ordered this...?!" She gaped, tears falling from her grey eyes. Sauron's head tilted downward, eyes fixed on hers. He did not hide his hand in this.

Rehja turned her gaze from his, lowering her eyes to harshly wipe her tears away. Her greif was crushing, nit only has she lost her freedom but any hopes of seeing Harad again. What could she do against what has been done? How was she to overcome the walls that had been closed in on her?

No answers were given. Only frantic panic and greif as she held her face.

With her face oscured, darkness enveloped her. She felt his hands on her shoulders.... the left one missing the ring finger. A heavyness like waves of thick fabric settled about her.

His breath was at her ear. His grip held her steady yet seemed dire in some way as she tried to console herself.

"Harad is your past." Came his voice, a lull that was sickeningly sweet to her ears. She almost fell into him from their honied tone. "You belong here now. With me."

Gasping, her heart racing, the cage she was trapped in shrinking, Rejha cried out. She could see only darkness. Feel only the heat closing around her. The dessert, her people, her home vanishing before her eyes into the jaws of fire.

Rehja pushed her arms outward, casting Sauron back in desperation. It was only far enough for her to reach her for blade and draw it. "No!" She yelled, tears streaming down her face as she raised her arm to strike him. If she was left behind, never to see her homeland again, then death was her only solace. Her only honor left.

Cursing in her own language, she made a swipe to create some distance between them. She managed one cut to his garment that was utterly harmless and swiftly found her wrist caught in his grasp.

Firmly, her arm was pulled to the side as she fought against him. A brave but fruitless endeavor. For no sooner had she cursed his name than he uttered one word that seased her movements entirely.

The word was harsh. In a language she did not know. Evil. Poison. It turned her stomach and left her without breath. She felt the vibrations of the word tremble about her, ringing in her ears and flushing her mind of all thought.

Rehja felt all strength with in her vanish, her mind became a haze and her will failed her at last.

The blade in her hand fell from her grasp and clattered to the floor loudly. A hand was secured about her lower back keeping her upright as she hung limp.

Staring upward into the veil, she was able to see the shadowed chin of the dark lord beneath. The skin was cold, pale, scarred and unpleasant to behold. Some devistation had befallen him, so much so that his body had been mangled, a horror to behold.

Despite her state and beholding a glimlse of the evil before her, her heart rate slowed. Her breath evened. Her eyes watched him calmly but intently as tears slid down her face. All care had left her.

His gloved hand returned to the cut on her cheek, apprasing it attentively. She felt her body being lifted and pressed against his as her face was brought to the hem of the veil. The the sensation of warmth suckled the cut of all blood.

When that well had run dry, his lips pulled back, a soft sigh following. The gaze under the veil lowered to her exposed neck, finding it unguarded.

Even as his lips were pressed upon her throat, Rejha did not cry out. She found peace, even contentment, despite the horror of reality.

Was she perhapse, even so bold, to find the warmth pleasant? The sensation of lips on her skin welcoming? Was it beyond her to enjoy what was happening? Was this not her purpose to serve the Lord of Mordor?

In a moment, piercing pain like a dagger punctured her throat and sent a jolt through her body that caused her to yelp aloud. Rejha held her mouth agape as an explosion of burning heat blossomed at her neck, spilling down her throat.

Fangs buried into her, lips drinking deeply as though her host were dying of thirst.

Sauron was wholly occupied in her blood as his nostrils flared. A low toned growl purred in his throat and his grip, held tight about her waist. His indulgence into this precious desert spring was a long desired thirst he would not now deny.

She could hear each gulp as blood was stolen from her body. Every suckle loud in her ear. Yet not a care could be had. Her vision blurred. Her breath weakened as each drop of crimson was hoarded, she faded more away into dimness.

"Don't kill me...." Her thoughts begged, while in her minds eye, she wandered from dimness to visions of Harad. Vast dessert of swooping, golden dunes that stretched across a pale blue horizon. She could see it even with her eyes open. Could almost feel it. Smell the air.

"Death is not for you." A voice spoke in her mind. And there in the dunes stood a man in stark white, she was nearly blinded by the sight. Even from a distance, she could see him, a fair elf like being that struck her with his beauty.

But the eyes... they were that of Sauron.... he smiled cockily at her as sandied winds kicked up his garments and disturbed the red, strawberry gold hair.

"I would not be so foolish to deprive myself of my only oasis."

In the cold reality, Rejha's eyes closed fully, a labored breath escaping her lips. She hung limp in darkness, defenseless against the moster at her throat and left alone in a strange land far from her people. Yet despite this, she remained at peace and dreamed of fresh air, dessert sands, and a of a fair stranger with blazing eyes.

#digital art #drawing #the lord of the rings #sauron art #sauron #the eye of sauron #digital painting #sauron fan fiction #sauron fanart #sauron imagine #sillmarillion #tolkienasmr #tolkien fanart #tolkein #jrr tolkien #fanfic #sauronxoc #short story #sauron short story

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bidonica · 2 months

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So I started the Heartman chapter in my playthrough and I keep thinking the things established in the Mama storyline might be relevant for Higgs in DS2:

Weirdly resilient body

BT umbilical cord - a physical one, not the smokey/grainy material of when BTs manifest to you. It's interesting because in the first game BTs become actual physical entities when they "fall" into the ground and a tar pit manifests around them; when you escape them or defeat them they disappear and so does the tar. But this piece of umbilical cord demonstrates they can also just exist in the phyisical world. Which lends credence to the theory that Higgs revives himself in DS 2 as a BT of sorts (is this also true for the Elle Fanning character?)

Basically, if Clifford could will the entire battlefield dimension into existence because of his own pain, catalyzing the pain and anger of generations of soldiers who died in battle, what and who willed New Higgs (and possibly Lou) into existence? And what about the tar kitten? It's a cute mascot but are we going to overlook she's also BT material that is simply existing in an apparently non-hostile way in the phyisical world? So many questions and no answer until sometime in 2025 lolsob

#death stranding #death stranding 2 #death stranding 2 on the beach #death stranding theories #i mean it's not really a theory just me thinking out loud

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sigilsmut · 1 year

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𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐘 𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭. 𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐨

Deciding that enough was enough, a tipsy Abbacchio finally speaks his thoughts and feelings in a more intimate way. Reader is GN, no pronouns.

CW : oral sex (m!receiving), fingering, vaginal penetration, mutual pining, some jealousy, alcohol mention

Abbacchio swore up and down that a fight to the death with an enemy Stand sounded way easier and much more appealing than confessing how strongly he felt towards you. Still, that did nothing to ease the stinging sensation in his chest or in his throat from the scene in front of him.

“You look extravagant tonight, mio caro.” Bruno’s blue eyes peered into yours, his voice never faltered even as he felt holes being burned in the back of his skull. He was well aware of Abbacchio’s feelings for you, for the latter had confided in him about his inner turmoil a month after you had joined. Still, even he was treading on thin ice. It was a bold move on his part, gently twirling strands of your hair in between calloused fingers, right in front of his subordinate.

“Ah, thank you, Bucciarati.” You flashed your pearly whites, obviously very proud of your outfit of choice, which was perfectly on theme for Valentine’s Day. The event was just a small party to celebrate the Capo's return from his strenuous mission, so while it wasn’t particularly fancy, you still wanted to present yourself as clean and decent as possible.

Abbacchio’s eyes furrowed and he grinded his teeth into each other. His insides were burning up, envy clinging to his lungs like hot tar. In a setting where he should be holding respect for his Capo’s authority, it slowly chipped away as he could do nothing but glare at the scene in front of him. The speakers played its music loud enough to muffle the voices of his teammates, yet it did nothing to drown out the sound of your laughter. A sound caused by someone that wasn’t him.

He planted his lips back on the glass, his mind dancing between snatching you away from his Capo or falling back and continuing to drink his feelings away. The burn of alcohol in the back of his throat wasn’t enough to override the jealousy that ate at him, the irritation that stirred in the pit of his gut. This wasn’t encouragement from a friend, not while the man had his lips hovering near your ear.

This was a slap in the face.

With a clenched jaw, the goth slammed his glass down on the table and slipped into the hallway. Whether it was from fear of speaking out and ruining the atmosphere or his lack of appearance genuinely went unnoticed, nobody commented on it. Regardless, you definitely noticed.

“Is he ok?” You spoke up. The concern made itself known as you frowned, looking towards your Capo for answers just as you always have. “For some reason he doesn’t look too happy to be here. Did something tick him off?”

“Perhaps.” Placing a hand on his hips, Bruno nudged his head in the direction Abbacchio disappeared into. “Why don’t you go check on him and make sure he’s ok? He might loosen up if it’s you.”

Quirking a brow at his smug tone, you shook it off. Your priorities lying in Abbacchio’s sudden moodiness were more important than whatever mischievousness the man was up to this time.

It actually didn’t take long to find him. You navigated your way down the halls decorated in hearts and plastic angels that hung from the ceiling, eventually rounding the corner into the one room you suspected he escaped into. You found him doubled over on his bed, his forehead resting on the palms of his hands and fingers tugging at lavender locks. Knowing how overwhelmed he gets in most social settings, the sight did not ease your worries at all.

“...Abbacchio?” His head snapped towards your figure and you fought to swallow the lump in your throat, along with the goosebumps rising across your skin. The tension had an uncomfortable heaviness, your head throbbing from his eyes boring into yours.

“I’m fine.” A sharp reply came at the tip of his tongue as you bit your own. When you didn’t say anything, he spoke again, his inquiry borderline accusatory. “Why’re you here, anyway?”

“Because of your attitude. You looked irritated, and I wanted to see what was wrong with you.” You bit back with just as much force behind your voice. Abbacchio winced slightly, hearing how your tone balanced between annoyance and uneasiness. He dug his nails further into his scalp, drops of sweat starting to collect on his paling face. He weighed his options, figuring he could clam up once more and kick you out, thus ripping his feelings in tatters and possibly ruin what little friendship the two of you had. You stepped closer in his vicinity, and almost instinctively he stood up like you were an anomaly. “What’s wrong, Abbacchio?”

“What’s wrong with me is you. I’m fucking in love with you.”

The silence that followed was deafening, only being filled by the muffled noise of music in the background. He didn’t dare look you in the eyes and instead chose to close them, his nails digging into his palms and boring crescents into them.

Liquid courage. He thought that maybe the amount of wine he consumed tonight would simultaneously comfort him and give him the push he needed, but it appeared to be a mistake given your shocked expression. He shouldn’t have said anything, he should have just insisted he be left alone and force you to leave, lock the door along with his heart and-

Abbacchio’s eyes suddenly snapped wide open, damn near the size of saucers. He could almost feel the oxygen being stolen right in front of him as you reached up and planted your lips onto his own. In a single kiss, each crack in his resolve that was meticulously stitched together and sealed for months fell apart in a matter of seconds. He knew there would be no turning back as soon as his painted lips met yours, and felt the tension in his shoulders release as you reciprocated our feelings with one action.

With one swift motion your body collided with the mattress below you, and the man crawled over and cage you in between his body and the sheets. He kissed you again with a newfound eagerness, planting his hands on your waist and knees inside of your legs. The tension between the two of you was finally gone, replaced with a want to merge with each other’s souls until his heart pounded against your ribcage.

His tongue forced its way into your mouth, the pinkish organ swirling with yours and swiping at every inch of your oral cavity. One of your hands found its way in his hair, fingers weaving in between and tugging at whatever strands it could get ahold of. Blood rushed from his head to his groin and he growled, detaching his lips from you and pulled at your clothes. His lipstick smudged on your lips and neck, and his chest swelled with pride and another funky feeling that had him bursting at the seams.

It was incredibly difficult not to marvel at the beauty Abbacchio so shamelessly displayed. Although the room was almost pitch black, the glow of the streetlights peering in through the window made it somewhat easier for you to see, and you found yourself sizing him up — heat pooling in your core as your eyes trailed from his sunset hues to his the deliciously sculpted jawline, his broad shoulders, and the tiny trail of lavender pubes disappearing into his V-line.

“You’re drooling.” He smirked down at you despite the rosiness that bled from his cheeks into his collarbone. You huffed, preparing a smartass reply at the tip of your tongue. However it died down at his tongue now flicking and swirling around your perked nipples. Your fingers dug into and pulled at his scalp, your resolve quickly folding underneath him.

While his mouth worked at your chest, his middle and ring fingers swiped up and down your slick folds, and slipped inside of your hole with an embarrassing easiness. You bucked your hips into them, turning your head from side to side. He smirked against your chest, deepening his thrusts and curling his fingers against the spongy spot that brought tears in your eyes.

You then placed a hand on his chest, and with another tug in his hair, he fell against the mattress with a groan. You shuddered as his fingers never left your core, maneuvering your body to reach down and take his balls into your mouth. Abbacchio widened his eyes as you slurped, releasing them with small pop, and licked a stripe up his thick cock. You finally took it into your mouth, sloppily sucking at his blushing head and bobbing your head down.

“You’re-fuck!-so good, so fucking good..” The pleasure Abbacchio felt was dizzying, and it increased more so once he began thrusting his fingers into you again. Your moans dragged behind, the vibrations sending a shudder into the man’s body. His legs twitched along with his dick as he bucked his hips, trying to push himself further into your warm mouth.

He all but drooled at the way you gazed up at him through lidded eyes, his cock glistening from the spit and precum that gathered in your mouth. In a swift motion, he yanked his fingers out of you and grabbed the sides of your head to slam you down for your nose to brush against his pubes. You gagged in surprise at the sudden intrusion in your throat, which only fueled him to drive his cock deeper just to hear and watch you gag on his cock.

One more sloppy thrust had him releasing in your mouth. You couldn’t exactly taste him, but nonetheless hummed at the warm feeling down your throat. He shivered at how you peered up at him, with those lust-blown eyes and a dazed look on your face. So fucking cute, he thought, such an innocent look tainted by the filthiness of his dick in your mouth and his spunk down your throat. Seeing you like this made his cock throb and left him even more determined to have you look at him the same way as you cum on his dick.

Foreheads stuck to each other and eyes never leaving the other, he lined himself up at your core. With a deep breath he pushed himself inside, hearing you groan as the two of you felt every inch of him sink into your velvety walls. You squirmed underneath him and clenched, making him knit his eyebrows and accidentally thrust forward, pulling your hips flush against his pubic bone.

“FUCK, you’re tight!” Abbacchio buried his head into your neck and bit down, making you squeal and clench around him again. Pulling another moan out of him, a few sluggish strokes followed, giving you time to accommodate and make room for his girth. The moment he picked up the pace your arms found their way around his neck, nails scratching his scalp and yanking at clumps of his hair.

“Do that again.” The growl that ripped from the back of his throat was guttural, manually locking your legs against your chest and slamming his hips into your thighs with renewed vigor. Every love bite littering y’all’s skin threatened to fully form after all of this was said and done, lips nipping at each other’s skin and sucking as much as possible.

“FUUAAAAAH — FUCK! OH MY GOOOOD!” You screamed into the darkness, wet sounds of his balls slapping against your ass bouncing off the walls at a speed that gave you whiplash. Your eyes rolled back inside your head, too focused on trying not to lose your mind to see a devilish grin tug at Abbacchio’s puffy lips. Planting his knees at a certain angle, his cock aggressively pistoned in and out of your warmth, grunting and groaning in your ears as stars clouded his vision.

He was in a state of bliss, his dick being clenched tightly by the person he fell in love with. The love of his life being claimed and pleasured by nobody but him. A perfect way to end on Valentine’s Day, he thought. It couldn’t get much better than this.

The bed violently shook and croaked under you, the headboard slamming against the wall from Abbacchio’s powerful thrusts. Sweat dripped and mixed in between your bodies, even dripping down and mixing with the slime around your sex. His nails dug into your thighs, hands squeezing them for dear life just like his blood did to his cock.

“Shit, shit, fuck! So good for me.. C’mon—!” He groaned, his fingers slipped in between and toyed with your sex to further push you to the edge. The knot that burned in your core threatening to burst as he kissed your cervix so sweetly. He bit the shell of your ear, in the same spot Bucciarati had whispered against. “Nobody can ever do this to you like I am. I’ve loved you since the day I laid eyes on you. Nobody can ever fuck you like this.”

You threw your head back and screamed, hands gripping the ball of his shoulders as your walls spasmed. The tension in your gut had been released, the squelching noises of your hole finally reaching your ears and flushing you further. Abbacchio shuddered against you as your walls clung to him, milking him for all he’s worth with his own release. He harshly slammed against you to push himself as deep as possible, his cum filling you to the brim and spilling out in a creamy ring around the base of his dick.

Heavy, labored breaths filled the room. Finally taking notice of the hotness in the air, the smell of sex filled your nostrils as your legs shook like jelly and fell to Abbacchio’s sides whining as his softened cock slipped out of you. He took in the sight of you post-nut; your tear-filled eyes, skin covered head to toe in love bites and purple lipstick stains that finally took form, and the thick, creamy slush pouring out of your hole. He burned the image below him in the back of his mind and committed it to memory, satisfied that he was the one to make you come undone.

Pulling himself away from you, he fetched a towel to clean you off with. He got lost in his mind as he wiped you down, retracing his steps and wondering how the hell he got in this position, much less a poorly, alcohol-induced confession leading to this moment.

The goth was pulled out of his thoughts from you pulling him down by his shoulders, feverishly kissing him with a newfound shyness. “I do too, I just didn’t want to annoy you too much.”

His brows rose and his heart thumped furiously against his chest. Taken aback by your (verbal) confession, he wrapped an arm around your sweaty back and pulled you closer. “You could never annoy me.” He mumbled against your puffy lips.

#jojo's bizarre adventure #leone abbacchio #abbacchio x reader #abbacchio smut #first finished fic of this year #this is embarassing lmfao #hopefully i'll be able to write more in the future

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