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flyingeevees · 2 years

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Chapter 1: Hunting is hard

"Hey get up, wildebeest breath." Came the voice of someone Hyena recognized. "It's almost high sun."

Hyena looked up sleepily to the large teeth of a lioness in his face- which made him jump in surprise. They were mismatched, with one large tooth hanging out of her partially closed lips.

"Oh, Tusk!" Yelped Hyena, "What- why? Is something happening?"

"Rainbow got us a few rabbits to snack on." Tusk laughed at Hyena's face, "We already asked if it was alright to eat it and the council said we could so come on while it's still fresh!"

The lioness shoved Hyena's side, making him tumble onto his back. He squirmed up to his paws in a hurry, as Tusk seemed to be readying up to pounce on top of him. He blinked the sleep from his eyes as she led him to their friend group, huddled in the shade of a bushwillow just a few steps away from the sleeping cave. There were three lions there; Rainbow, Hornbill, and their new leader, Acacia. All had been friends with Hyena since they were cubs. Well, except Hornbill. He was younger than the rest of them, and just joined the friend group a couple sun cycles ago.

Acacia smiled as the two joined them, making room next to him. Hyena thought about his facial change back during his coronation. Maybe he should ask about it later... when they were alone..?

"Hey, sleeping in so late?" Acacia commented with a laugh, "You know that's not a good way to impress your leader."

Tusk pawed at Acacia's shoulder, grinning as she sat beside Rainbow. The two were close friends- born only days apart. They had a connection the moment they met. Hyena remembered playing pounce tag with them when they were supposed to be taking a bath.

"Well, Mr. High and Mighty King," Hyena sat, his paw lifting to his chest in a mocking tone. "I'm so sorry I'm not a perfect citizen. Hurry, I must be made an example of!"

Hyena laid his head on Acacia's paws, his neck offered up to his king. The other lions laughed as Acacia pushed Hyena off of him. Hyena pushed back against him, the two pitting their strength against each other in a very easily-lost fake fight.

"Hey guys, no fighting! We have food to eat." Rainbow sounded like she was trying not to laugh as she nosed a rabbit corpse closer to the pair. "We have a hunt to get to soon."

"Yeah, which you would have been late to had I not woken you up." Tusk grinned to Hyena, who snorted in response.

"Yeah, yeah. Hunting." Hyena gave a fake cheer and laid his head down, not thrilled.

"Hey, it's okay. I'll look into getting you a new job, okay?" Acacia put his paw on Hyena's gently.

"Sure, okay." The brown lion smiled in reply, sighing loudly..

"Hey, can we eat already?" Hornbill blurted out, licking his lips. "I can't stand listenin' to you all talk about all this stuff. Rainbow's right, let's dig in."

With a snort, Hyena nodded. The group continued talking as they ate their rabbits, talking about visiting the watering hole after the hunt took place. It wasn't long before a lioness came to fetch Hyena, Tusk, and Rainbow for the hunt to begin. Sharp was the leader of their hunting party, and a very stern lion at that. They'd barely finished their meal before she had tapped her paw impatiently.

Hyena rubbed his head on Acacia's and waved to Hornbill with his tail before following behind Rainbow, who was skipping as she walked beside Sharp. Seems like she was already annoying the strict lioness with her peppiness. But Hyena loved that about her, she was someone who could put a smile on anyone's face. Except maybe Sharp's. He tried not to laugh as Rainbow brushed her tail against Sharp's playfully.

The sun was high in the sky, practically melting the fur off the lions as they walked in a diamond pattern with Sharp's lead. She was following the scent of a pack of gazelle who had come into their territory from beyond the tree-line. Apparently they had stayed for the night and were headed towards the trees again, so they needed to act fast. Sharp had cornered them into the south corner of the hunting grounds, before her tail lashed as a warning. They were close and had to be quiet now. Tusk looked to Hyena with a fierce look on her face- she was excited for this hunt. Hunting had never been Hyena's thing. He was known to be one of the worst hunters in the pride. Which was .... stressful to say the least. He hated hunting- he'd never been good at it. He knew all the signs Sharp had commanded but never how to kill or trap something on his own.

Speaking on signing, Sharp's tail lifted and flicked to the left and right; surround the gazelle. The group parted- Rainbow and Tusk going right, Sharp and Hyena going left. Hyena watched as the grass moved slightly around the gazelle group, parsing where his friends were standing so he could stand opposite. Sharp stopped and Hyena almost bumped into her as she did. The lioness almost growled, her tail flicking back to tell him to back up. He complied instantly, backing up to whereabouts he had seen rainbow on the opposite side. They were all in position.

After a moment of silence, Sharp reared forward, her powerful leap taking her onto the back of a gazelle. Roaring in pursuit, Tusk struck the neck of the creature as it tried to escape, Hyena and Rainbow keeping the others scared and cornered. A gazelle ran towards Hyena, however, and fearfully he froze. How are you supposed to kill a creature? He knew it was his job but- Oh well, here goes. The lion jumped, his teeth meeting skin as he tried to bite down on the fleeing gazelle. It bucked, trying with all it's might to shake off Hyena. He heard other gazelles braying behind him as the gazelle sprinted towards the trees. Shit! Hyena leapt off as the hooved creature escaped into the acacia trees, to the other side.

"Hyena!" Sharp yelled, her face covered in blood from her kill. "What the fuck were you doing? Why didn't you kill it?"

"I-I!" Hyena stammered. "I tried!"

"Not hard enough.." Sharp sighed, her tail lashing. "Come on, let's get what we have back home.

Lowering his head, Hyena helped Sharp lift a gazelle by it's throat, the two dragging one body while Rainbow and Sharp dragged the other.

Why did it not go down? I got it by the throat! Hyena thought to himself miserably as they made it to the land bridge connecting the hunting grounds with their home. Their home jutted above the ground in a large bowl of rocks. It could be seen from the hunting grounds, lifting above the ground in a majestic mound, but Hyena's eyes gazed at the ground instead.

Acacia welcomed the party home warmly, helping drag the bodies into their den. Lions gathered as they waited for the council of elders to join, moving as the elder lions moved to the front of the group. Sharp parted to the back, following Rainbow and Tusk, and Hyena sauntered behind. They had to wait their turn to eat, which made his mouth only water more at the taste of blood in his maw.

"Lions of the Savannah!" Acacia roared, spooking Hyena. "This feast can only be brought to us by the Zimwi, the monster of the trees. We must thank it for it's kindness in letting us have our meal." Murmurs came from the crowd as they thanked the monster in a prayer of voices.

"Now, let the council feast." Acacia bowed his head at the elders, who dug in immediately. Taking big portions, Hyena thought, his frown deepening. When it was their turn they'd barely get any meat on the ribs. Acacia had joined the elders, as was tradition, but took only a small amount in comparison. It took a while of drooling mouths and licked lips before it was cubs and their mother's turn. Then the male lions of the pride. Then finally, the hunters. Finally. The rest of the scraps were being pulled off the meat by the lionesses who hadn't gotten a part yet. The cave was full of bones being chewed, creating a cacophony of teeth clicking.

By the time Rainbow and Hyena had gotten up to take their turn, there wasn't much meat left. Hyena felt terrible for the lionesses who had to eat after him, taking some left-over rib meat. It was a long night afterwards.

#The problem with Paradise #my writing #my OC #Rainbow #Hyena #acacia #sharp #Hornbill #Tusk

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getawaysleighmp4 · 1 year

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What Is The Best Free Game App?

There are a ton of free game apps out there, but which one is the best? It really depends on what you’re looking for in a game. If you want something that’s going to keep you entertained for hours on end, then you might want to go with a more complex app like Clash of Clans or Candy Crush Saga.

But if you’re just looking for a quick and easy way to kill some time, then something like Tetris or Angry Birds might be more up your alley. Ultimately, it all comes down to personal preference.

The best free game app is undoubtedly PUBG Mobile. It's an online multiplayer battle royale game that pits 100 players against each other in a last-man-standing deathmatch. The game is free to download and play, but there are in-app purchases for things like cosmetics and season passes.

What is the Best Free App Game?

The best free app game is undoubtedly Tetris. It's a classic puzzle game that is both easy to learn and addictive. There are many different versions of Tetris available for different platforms, but the basic premise is always the same: fit falling blocks into rows to clear them and score points.

Tetris is an excellent brain workout and can be played for a few minutes or hours at a time. It's also one of the most replayable games ever made, with plenty of challenges to keep you coming back for more.

What is the #1 Game App in the World?

The top game app in the world is currently "Candy Crush Saga" by King. It is a free to play match-three puzzle game where players must clear rows of candy by matching three or more of the same type together. The game has over 2,000 levels and is available on iOS, Android, and Facebook.

What Games Can I Play on My Phone for Free?

When it comes to finding games that you can play on your phone for free, there are a few different places that you can look. One of the first places that you can check is the app store for your specific type of phone. For example, if you have an iPhone, then you would want to check the App Store within iTunes.

If you have an Android phone, then you would want to check the Google Play store. Within each of these stores, you can browse through the various games that are available and see if any of them interest you. Another option for finding free games to play on your phone is by doing a simple search online.

There are a number of websites that offer free mobile games that you can play right from your browser without having to download anything. A quick search should turn up a variety of options for you to choose from. Finally, another great way to find free games to play on your phone is by signing up for a free trial with a game development company.

This way, you’ll be able to test out new games as they’re being developed and provide feedback directly to the developers. Plus, once the game is released, you may even get to keep it permanently! You can find more information at: Apps for PC

Free Games

There are a ton of great free games out there, and it can be hard to know where to start. That’s why we’ve put together this list of our favorites. Whether you’re looking for something to play on your lunch break or something to keep the kids entertained, there’s something here for everyone.

Websites like Kongregate and Newgrounds have been around for years and offer a huge selection of free games. If you’re looking for something more mainstream, Steam also has a large catalog of free-to-play games. And if you want to get your feet wet with mobile gaming, there are plenty of great free options available on iPhone and Android as well.

So what are you waiting for? Start exploring and enjoy some great free gaming!

Best Free Android Games 2022

It's hard to believe that we're already well into 2021 and looking ahead to what 2022 has in store for us. When it comes to Android gaming, there are always new and exciting titles on the horizon. So, what can we expect from the best free Android games in 2022?

Here are a few predictions: 1. More Battle Royale Games There's no doubt that battle royale games have taken the world by storm in recent years.

With their intense gameplay and huge player bases, they're perfect for gamers who want a challenge. We've seen some great battle royale games released on Android already, such as Call of Duty: Mobile and Garena Free Fire. In 2022, we predict that even more developers will jump on the bandwagon and release their own battle royale games.

Whether you're a fan of the genre or not, there's sure to be something for everyone. 2. More Retro-Inspired Games One trend that we've seen in recent years is a resurgence in popularity for retro-inspired games.

Gamers seem to be longing for simpler times, when graphics weren't as important as gameplay mechanics. This year has already seen the release of several excellent retro-inspired games, such as Oddmar and Super Cat Tales 2. In 2022, we think this trend will continue with even more developers creating fun and nostalgic experiences for gamers to enjoy. 3..

Continued Growth of Indie Games The indie game scene has been booming in recent years, thanks to platforms like itch.io and Steam making it easy for developers to get their games out there. We've seen some amazing indie games released on Android over the past few years, such as Celeste and Hollow Knight .

In 2022 , we predict that even more independent developers will find success with their releases . With so many great options available , gamers will have no shortage of unique experiences to enjoy .

Best Games on Play Store Free

When it comes to finding the best games on the Play Store, there are a few things you need to take into account. First and foremost, you need to make sure that the game is actually free. Secondly, you should look at the reviews and see what other people have said about it.

Finally, you should check out how popular the game is. With that said, here are some of the best games on the Play Store that are completely free: 1. Alto's Adventure

This endless runner game has been praised for its beautiful visuals and addictive gameplay. It's one of those games that's easy to pick up and play for a few minutes, but can also be enjoyed for hours on end. There are tons of different challenges to keep you coming back, and it's definitely worth checking out if you're looking for a new game to play.

2. Clash Royale This strategic multiplayer game from Supercell pits players against each other in intense battles. It's one of the most popular games on the Play Store right now, and for good reason - it's incredibly fun and addicting.

There are dozens of different maps and modes to choose from, so you'll never get bored playing Clash Royale.

Conclusion

There are a ton of great free game apps out there, but which one is the best? It really depends on what you’re looking for. If you want a challenging puzzle game, then Cut the Rope is a good option.

For a more casual game that you can pick up and play anytime, Fruit Ninja is always fun. And if you’re looking for something in between, Monument Valley is a beautiful and unique puzzle game that’s definitely worth checking out.

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septembercfawkes · 3 years

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Sanderson’s Character Scales

Hey everyone, today I'm here to share a perspective on characters that comes from #1 New York Times best-selling author Brandon Sanderson. I love learning from Sanderson because he's prolific, experienced, and successful (Wheel of Time, Mistborn, The Way of Kings . . .). I also love learning from him because he shares concepts and techniques that I have found nowhere else. Lately, one of his concepts has been revisiting my mind--his character scales.

So in this post, I'm going to explain what they are and how they work, while sharing my own ideas and interpretations along the way. Let's dig in!

Brandon Sanderson's Character Scales

When it comes to characters, Sanderson envisions that each one has three "scales" or "dials." Basically, these are three different components that make a character interesting to the audience. They are . . .

1. Likeability--how much the audience likes, empathizes with, or relates to the character

2. Competence--how skilled the character is (this often appeals to the audience through wish-fulfillment)

3. Proactivity--how motivated and proactive the character is (when the character has a significant goal and is taking action to reach it, the audience becomes invested in their journey)

These aren't either/or attributes, but spectrums.

For example, we could say that each category can be measured from 1 - 10, one meaning the character scores very low in that category and ten meaning he or she scores very high in that category.

In BBC's Sherlock, Sherlock scores high in competence and proactivity--he loves solving cases and he's very good at it. In those categories, he may be an eight or nine. But when it comes to likeability, he scores lower--he's a sociopath who can be a real jerk to people. In that category, he may be a three or four.

In contrast, Katniss from The Hunger Games is quite likeable (she volunteers herself) and competent (have you seen her shoot arrows?), but in regards to the real antagonist, she's rather passive. She doesn't really believe Panem can change. And for most of the series, she's actually not very interested in defeating the government. However, by the end of the series, this is her primary goal. She grows in proactivity.

It's possible to have a protagonist score low in two of the three. Harry Potter is likeable, but he's not very competent or proactive when it comes to dealing with his problems. Through his journey at Hogwarts, he becomes more competent and more proactive.

Before we continue, there are a few points I need to make.

- The likeability scale is based on how the audience feels about the character, not necessarily how other characters feel about the character. You may have a character that no one seems to like (such as Harry), but the audience still likes, so he may score high there. Likeability typically relates to how the character treats others (petting the dog), is treated (usually unfairly), or how similar he is to the audience (relatability).

- Competence can be measured a few different ways. It might be something like learning magic or shooting a bow, but it may also be something more subtle, like being a skilled negotiator or a born leader or having a silver tongue. A character may be competent in more than one thing, of course, but often this category relates to skills used in the plot. For example, if Katniss is really great at card games, that's not really related to competing in the Hunger Games, so she might as well not be great at card games--it doesn't matter, because it's not pertinent.

- "Proactivity" is always a term I hesitate using in the writing world because it actually means slightly different things depending on how you apply it. Structurally speaking, a protagonist must be proactive to have a great story. The protagonist has to do things to make plot happen. The protagonist has to do things to make story structure work. But characteristically speaking, a protagonist can be innately passive--meaning he or she has no real desire to move forward in the story, but is forced to because of the stakes. For example, Shrek really has no desire to save a princess, but if he doesn't rescue a princess, then he'll lose his swamp (stakes). He doesn't care about Fiona, he just wants to not lose something. This is what Sanderson's proactivity category is about--character not structure. To learn more about characteristically passive protagonists, check out "Getting Passive Protagonists to Act."

The character scales are not restricted to protagonists. They can be applied to any character to get a better understanding of him or her. For example, John Watson scores high on being likeable--he's probably the most relatable character in Sherlock. But he's lower in proactivity (sometimes he wants to have a normal life) and competence than Sherlock (which is why he works well as Sherlock's Influence Character).

In The Hunger Games, Peeta is decently high in likeability and proactivity (early on he says he doesn't want to be a piece in the Games, he wants to show the Capitol they can't control him), but he's not particularly competent within the context of the plot (the Games). (However, one may argue that his likeability helps him in that he's more likely to get sponsors.)

Let's round out our examples, shall we? In Harry Potter, Hermione starts off as rather competent and proactive--she's doing everything she can to learn magic. But as a bossy know-it-all, she's not very likeable. By the end, she becomes more likeable.

Most characters will start with one or two categories high and one or two categories low.

For example, in the Farm Boy trope, the character is usually low in (pertinent) competence, higher in likeability, and maybe in the middle (a five) for proactivity (generally speaking).

Villains will often be low in likeability, high in competence, and high in proactivity (generally speaking).

Positive steadfast protagonists are often high in likeability (unless the author is making it too easy to be good, in which case, they get annoying) and usually lower in proactivity (the reluctant hero, if you will). Often they are fairly competent (generally speaking).

With that said, it's not impossible to have a character start with all high (like perhaps classic Superman) or all low, but the more focal that character, the more difficult that character will probably be to write, in a satisfying way. It can be done--for example, Leia in the original Star Wars scores rather high in all three categories--but it can be challenging. (I've heard plenty of people and writers complain about how difficult it is to write an excellent Superman movie.)

It's also possible to write characters who are about average in everything--but still, usually not as interesting.

If you start looking around at characters, you'll almost always find them to be high in one or two and low in one or two.

So, what is the point of all this? Well, a few actually.

One, with these scales, you can get an idea of how interested the audience will be in the character. If your protagonist is a jerk, and you are worried about it, you can bump up the other two to help compensate, a la Sherlock. You can also make sure to emphasize the other two more than the low likeability. You can check to make sure you aren't trying to write a "Super" man--unless, of course, that's the point. And you can make sure you aren't trying to write someone who isn't that interesting--someone who scores low in all three.

Two, using these scales to measure your characters can give you a sense of how your cast functions. Sherlock and John pair well together because they are opposites in likeability. They are also sometimes opposites in proactivity. Same goes for Katniss and Peeta, and Harry and Hermione.

However, this is not to say you can't have characters together who are close to the same--like Harry and Ron. But when that happens, often, the two are more likely to function as a unit. Harry and Ron are both learning to be more competent and proactive together (and thanks to the help of Hermione).

You can also find interesting combinations, like pitting a very competent and proactive antagonist against a passive, incompetent protagonist. Or what about a likeable antagonist and unlikeable protagonist?

It's just another way to gauge and measure. In one of my WIPs, each of my trio members is low in a different category, and I feel like that brings a sense of balance to my cast.

Three, the scales can give you an idea of how a character may grow or regress through the story. By the end of Sherlock, Sherlock becomes more likeable. By the end of Harry Potter, Harry becomes more competent and proactive. By the end of Hunger Games, Katniss becomes more proactive.

It's also possible to slide down. Anakin becomes less likeable (and yet, more competent) as he becomes Darth Vader.

And you can slide a character one way through the middle and back by the end. In Sam Raimi's Spider-man 2. Peter Parker slides down in competence through the middle, as he loses his powers, but regains them by the end.

In a sense, you may say that moving a character through these categories is a sort of character arc. After all, technically, a character arc just means that a character grows or changes (or . . . maybe doesn't). But I wouldn't say this is the same as The Character Arc--which is thematic. The Character Arc is about worldviews and value systems. It's about Harry learning love is the most powerful force. It's not about Harry learning to do magic or sticking up for himself. Those may be "character arcs" but they aren't The Character Arc (if you get me)--that's how I look at it.

However, these scale "character arcs" may play into The Character Arc. Sherlock's Character Arc is about valuing emotion and social relationships, which feeds into the theme of the whole series. So surely, growing in likeability--starting as a jerk and ending as a caring friend--connects into that.

In short, while moving along these scales may be thematic, it's not necessarily directly thematic. It may be part of The Character Arc, but it isn't exactly the same thing.

I believe these scales can be particularly useful for steadfast characters, as it gives them more motion, without compromising their steadfastness. This helps keep them from feeling stagnant.

For example, in a show I recently watched, the positive steadfast protagonist holds the correct worldview in the beginning, is tested to his breaking point in the middle, and proves his belief true at the end.

However, in the process, he must move from being passive to proactive. He doesn't really want to deal with the antagonist--he is only dragged into the story by high stakes. In the second half of the middle, he struggles with trying to be proactive. At the end, he completes a "character arc" by initiating the final confrontation with the antagonist.

In this sense, a character may have multiple character arcs. And heck, if you have more than one theme in the story, he or she may have multiple thematic arcs--which we'll talk about on a future day.

For now, I hope you find Sanderson's scales useful to you.

You can hear Sanderson talk about the scales himself, in his Youtube lecture on characters.

#writing tips #writing tips and tricks #writeblr #writing charcaters #writing reference #fanfiction #writer #editor

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hhawks · 3 years

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hiii!! i love your hotel, it’s a very nice place to spend hours with all of my favs lol. i was wondering if you could write some hcs on reiner and porco ( sfw and nsfw if ur comfy with it:) ) with a cute stepsister who they love a little too much, and how they kind of manipulate her into thinking what they’re doing is okay?

i have been looking at this ask in my inbox for WEEKS and i have never felt worthy of answering it but i'm gonna wipe the drool off my face and WRITE IT

tw: stepcest, manipulation, breeding kink

stepbros reiner n porco are like soft and mean doms respectively and everything porco does is to make u cry and everything reiner does is to make u happy and they HATE each other but they come together because they love you so much. their little stepsister who they would give the world, put aside their years-long rivalry to come and give you anything you wanted. porco would drive you anywhere you wanted, reiner would cook for you, and the three of you sleep together on reiner's massive king sized bed, with you in the middle and them on either side.

and you're so innocent, so lovely with your pink frilly skirts and shirts that are cropped a little too short and reiner glares at every guy who even looks your way, and porco soothes you by saying, "they're no good for you, princess, and you already have me and rei." and you nod, little dumb you, because they're your big brothers, they must know what's best for you right? and when you cry, reiner kisses your tears away, saying "this is for your own good, princess. what are you gonna do without us?"

reiner helps you with homework, big strong brother who's so smart and knows best for you. porco blocks every guy on your phone because he's just looking out for you and knows best for you. reiner flips your skirt up and kisses your pretty pretty pussy because he wanst you to feel good and knows best for you. porco tears you open on his fat cock, murmuring about how much your ass was showing in that pair of shorts, you must have been asking for it, right?

on god, u love when they have you on their bed, panties stuffed in your mouth and they're taking turns splitting you open, like it's a competition to see who can you cum the most. porco's pounding into your pussy so fucking hard, stretching you to your limits while reiner sits back and watches, cock hard and aching in his hand. he wants to kiss your tears away but he doesn't get to touch you when it's porco's turn.

"you like this, don't you?" porco grunts in your ear, his arm hooked under your thigh so he can angle himself deeper into you. "you like when i punish you. it's like you whore yourself out just so i fuck you this hard, don't you?"

you whine, shaking your head. tears are streaming down your face, burning hot rivers down your cheek and he just laughs. "why are you crying? doesn't mean shit, baby, you know it only makes me wanna fuck you harder." your eyes dart over to reiner, who's looking at you with the softest eyes but can't do anything to help you.

"gotta listen to him, princess," he says, leaning over to press a kiss to your temple. "make him happy and then it's my turn, and you know i only wanna make you smile, right? gonna make my little princess happy?"

"shut up," porco shoves him. "she's mine. wait your turn, fat ass."

you can't help the small laugh that bubbles in your throat, but it dies, twisting into a whine when porco's fingers come down to rub on your clit harshly. "what a sloppy pussy," he grunts. "made f'me, hm? made for me to ruin, stuff full of my cum?"

n you nod, gasping at the burning pit on your abdomen that begins to grow with every thrust in. the fabric falls out of your mouth as your mouth gapes open, and your whines are fair game for everyone to hear. "please, please pock, wanna cum, make me cum--"

"you got it, baby," he murmurs, lips against your ear. "gonna make you cum so hard you forget all about reiner, how about that?"

he pushes you into your release, your walls fluttering pathetically around his fat cock, milking it for all it's worth. he groans, hips stuttering in you before he cums all in you, hot and thick and you feel so goddamn full even after he pulls out. you're barely there, only conscious enough to hear porco say, "there you go. good girl. go get my sloppy seconds reiner."

and you feel reiner hover over you, fingers gentle on your abused cunt, murmuring about how pretty you look braindead and fucked out on his silk sheets. "princess? you there?" he kisses you, lips warm and soft and you whimper in response, arms coming up to hold him close to you. he knows you, knows what you need, so when he slides himself into you he holds you so close to him, praising you, "look how good you take me, princess! so soft and warm, fuck, you're so good for me, yeah?" his cock is bigger than porco's (honestly your favourite out of the two, but you'll never admit it) longer and reaches so deep in you you swear you feel him in your tummy. "your big brother's here now, gonna make you feel so good, okay?"

and your cries have turn into mindless babble and soft gasps as he fucks you so gently yet so hard, burying himself to the hilt with every thrust, your pathetic pussy stretched to its limits. "s'good, nii-chan," you whisper. "you feel so nice, want more."

"more? you sure you can take it?" he cups your cheek with one big palm.

"mmhm! please, fuck me faster?" you smile at him, and out of the corner of your eye you catch porco sneering at the two of you. but reiner's kiss on your lips makes you forget it, before picking up his pace until you're falling apart on his cock. "i- nii-chan, fuck, i'm gonna, gonna--!"

"cum for me, princess," he grunts, pressing his forehead to yours. "wanna make you feel good, wanna cum in your pussy. you're gonna let me do that right? gonna let me stuff your pretty pussy full of my cum? let me breed you?"

"yes, yes! please, wan' it," you're slurring your words now, fucked out and pliant, taking reiner in all his glory without a complaint. you're so close, so close-- and the moment reiner puts his fingers on your clit you're gushing, whines dripping from your lips like honey. you cum all over reiner's abdomen, nectar staining his sheets and he gapes at you, pushed over into his own orgasm, cumming in you in thick loads. he's's pumping you full and you take it all, his cum mixed with porco's, the two of them leaving you stuffed full.

"i made her squirt," you hear reiner tease porco. "do better, pock."

you love your brothers, love their little rivalry, love how they treat you. and god, they fuckin' love you too.

#reiner x reader #porco x reader #reiner x reader x porco #room service 🍽#holy jesus i hope this does u justice I loved this #u can tell i am biased towards reiner <3 #porco baby <3 #reiner baby <3 #darkhera

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ilcaeryx · 3 years

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Cultist [Sukuna/Reader] - NSFW

Summary: You have one god on this earth.

Tags: Sukuna/Reader, NSFW, Smut, Humor, Size kink, Cock Warming, Body Worship,

Words: Cirka 2k

Author’s Note: What’s up, sluts? I’m back. This is NSFW, so beware.

---

Sukuna did regularly mention that domination and conquest were his pastime hobbies and you would tentatively add that he adhered to them with slave-like zealotry. Whenever he insulted Itadori Yuji by calling him simple-minded, your heart ached with the desire to tell him that he was not any greater regarding his obsessions with strength. However, your self-preservation kept you alive, since a bitch that talks back to Sukuna is a bitch that gets their head separated from their body, after all.

Having sex with Sukuna is somehow leagues safer than speaking to him, you thought, gaze surveying how the apex of his back muscles cast shades upon the trenches of his spine. Inhalation, the shadows grew and deepened. Exhalation, the light re-conquered its territory. You suspected he never slept, even though he physically seemed in deep slumber. His arms were splayed on his pillow, face turned away from you.

You had self-preservation to save your ass 99 percent of the time – this time was probably that one percent where he would snap.

“Sukuna,” you called out, very lightly stroking his biceps with your nails. No answer, but his arm muscles flexed subtly as he moved his arm. “I want my side of the bed back. I can’t sleep on this side.”

You let out a shriek when his hand shot out at you, palm plastered over your lips. The sharp edge of his index nail hovered uncomfortably close to your eye, the thumb nail piercing your cheek. Out of reflex, your dug your fingertips into his upper arm and attempted to pull away from his show of force.

Sukuna turned his head to face you. His eyes glared with disinterest, though his grasp weakened slightly.

“You’ve been plenty loud during the night; why must you continue now?” he asked, squeezing your cheeks together to allow you to speak.

“I’ve slept like three hours max,” you said, ignoring his question.

“That is not my problem.” He let go of your face to return to his original position. “Go find somewhere else to sleep and I shall wake you whenever I have need of you.”

What an absolute dickhead. This was your bed, not his domination playground.

You released him and patted your face with your fingers carefully. There were no stinging scratches left behind, which was good considering his reasoning that if ‘you weren’t bleeding out, you didn’t need help’ would leave you with annoying scabs everywhere. Why you were even fucking this guy was beyond you, honestly. This was one of the top 3 worst life choices you had ever made.

You slid towards him beneath the covers and supported your upper body with your ribcage on his lower back and elbows on his upper back. His body heat intermingling with yours gave you a dull ache, from behind your breastbone flowing into a tidepool in the pit of your stomach. After pushing your hair to one side of your neck, you lowered yourself onto him. Your lips wet and breath hot across his skin, you blew softly before planting a kiss below his shoulder blade. Had it been another person under you, you would have had the gratification of seeing goosebumps forming across the area.

“Sukuna…” you said, barely audible between his skin and your lips.

The King of Curses arose from his relaxed position. “Did you not listen or are you an idiot?”

“Bit of both, to be perfectly honest.” You pinched a tuft of his hair strands between two fingers, pulling gently. “You don’t need to do anything – I just want your attention.”

He issued you a warning glare, daring you to pull some weird shit on him.

You shrugged one of your shoulders and gave him a lopsided smile. “It’s not like I can hurt you, right? I don’t have sharp claws.” To testify, you released his hair, buried your nails below his neck and dragged them down his back in one stroke. Four faint lines were left behind, a stylistic contrast to his dark markings. “I don’t have superhuman strength or speed.” You felt the muscular ridges above his ribs, your fingers travelling up and down each rib. “At my worst, I’m just very obnoxious.”

“How self-aware,” he mocked and laughed half-heartedly. He seemed to enjoy your tiny monologue, judging by the slight raise of his eyebrows. “Continue.”

His approval increased your confidence. While you scoured your brain for whatever concept that might amuse or interest him, you broke eye contact and directed your thumb to pad the black line running along his back. You followed it up to the crest of his shoulders and pulled yourself up over his torso. A low growl hummed beneath you, indicating that perhaps you were pushing your luck. When you brought your left hand down his chest the sound reverberated through your being, reminding you that you were not the apex predator in here. His eagerness showed as he willingly moved his hand into your range when you struggled to reach it.

“Look,” you said, just as eager to sate his curiosity, “at the difference.”

With his attention on your hand enveloping his, you settled your head on his shoulder, finally eye to eye with the King of Curses. You shifted so that your palms met. Even when ignoring his nails, his long fingers and thick wrist eclipsed yours. Finger pads with rough callouses created in combat, the evidence of a reign of lasting a millennium. You could feel the wisdom beneath your soft pads; you could’ve devoted your entire life to warfare and your hands would still not understand it the way his do.

“You know, I never used to consider myself a small person,” you lied, your voice perfectly stable, “but now I am not so sure anymore. It is quite overwhelming.”

Sukuna’s head tilted towards yours, almost tenderly grazing his cheek against your jawline. The movement gave you shivers, causing your toes to curl. You had no option but trusting his self-control when he dove below your jaw and put his lips to your neck. He sucked the flesh between his lips, occasionally tasting with his tongue.

You sighed, content for the brief attention you had earned. Sukuna’s heartbeat rate did not increase nor decrease beneath your hand, his chest just as firm. He detached from your neck, his saliva cooling down that particular spot. You were on the brink of complaining when the world swirled around and your back hit the mattress, your chest and stomach feeling the room’s chill without Sukuna’s body heat.

Sukuna was not playing around anymore; he aligned his forearms beside your face and blocked off whatever else existed outside with his mere presence, lips taut and eyes alert. He situated his torso on top of yours and separated your thighs with his knee. Not close enough to grind on.

“Tell me more,” he stared you down. “What does being completely outmatched feel like?”

You wondered if he meant how it physically felt or how the emotional part of being outmanned and outgunned felt like. Considering how his empathic ability was low-functioning to non-existing, you wanted to bet your money on a physical description… Yet, your tongue prepared to tell him about the terror and the uncertainty. It was not wise to divulge such details to Sukuna.

Scheherazade’s silver tongue might have saved her life a thousand and one times but not everyone’s talent was located in their mouth cavity. Like always, your hands bought you more time to think, to evaluate your words. You tentatively reached for his collarbones before changing your mind and guiding one hand to his lips. Perhaps he had meant to kiss your fingertips, perhaps he had yet another inquiry but his lower lip separated from his upper one and you cautiously pulled it downwards. A predator’s teeth greeted you.

“I can’t say it without sounding lame,” you said and crossed your arms across your chest. “Don’t laugh.”

Almost immediately, Sukuna leaned his weight on one forearm, allowing him to use the other to restrain your hand against the mattress. “I assure you,” he said, his eyes staring lazily at you, lids half-down, “you are not that funny.”

Suddenly, you wished Itadori Yuji would regain his consciousness to not have to deal with this asshole. Kind, encouraging Yuji would worship your existence. Perhaps you would eventually have learned to worship him in turn. ‘Learning’ being the key word, of course. You would fumble in the dark while attempting to appreciate him. This seemed like a good idea for about three seconds and then you returned to your occult god.

“I want to be inside you.” Sukuna, no longer interested in your thoughts, showed more interest in your body. He seldomly spoke of his wants, rousing your curiosity and – honestly – your arousal. The thigh between your leg shifted closer to your mound, touching your nether lips softly.

“You’re so demanding,” you complained, ending your sentence with a deep sigh. “You want me to be quiet, you want me to talk, you want to be inside me – will you ever be satisfied?”

You rolled your hips upwards in a slow movement, enjoying yourself as your lips parted against his flesh. It did not please you enough, so you continued to alleviate yourself.

“No.” His voice was unusually quiet. His lower lip brushed yours as he spoke. “Do you think you deserve it?”

You moved your chin downwards, the movement nearly imperceptible for someone who was not expecting it.

“I agree… if it’ll keep you quiet,” he said, releasing your arm to steady himself above you.

And you did keep quiet. Although he remained stone-faced, Sukuna seemed attentive to the way you opened your mouth and frowned in frustration, his crimson gaze traversing across your face.

He angled his hips downwards, pressuring your clit as you ground against him. You had never been more thankful for the things he did than when he let you use his body as a tool to get off. Each upwards motion elected a pang of pleasure, a beach in ebb and flow.

You don’t know for how long he tolerated your grinding but your lower body ached and his thigh was slick with your fluid when he removed his leg from you, its absence pulsating throughout your stomach. Despite your fear that he would push you away, you grabbed onto his neck to heave yourself against him, anything to regain that comfort. The relief that accompanied the heartbeat after he brought you up with him to sit upright lightened your entire being. His hands felt excruciatingly hot, almost unbearably so, on your ribcage.

Although you felt ready for him, your grip on his neck remained hard as he lifted you up above his cock. Sukuna descended you slightly, his tip bulging at your entrance. You knew your limit and didn’t hesitate to sink onto him, a movement less gentle than you wished due to your legs being wrapped around his waist. Your breath was uneven, hitching up whenever you strained against him. Avoiding getting your insides impaled by a guy’s dick was surprisingly hard labour. Eventually you settled at his base, a sense of completion glowing off you.

There were no comforting touches or encouraging words from Sukuna, whose tranquil expression made him seem more like Yuji than himself. His eyes almost shut, jaw relaxed... This was the alternate universe version of Sukuna, a man who did not lust for domination and who would settle down with his loved ones for an eventless life.

Hearing your dumb fantasies echo in your head, you rubbed your eyes with your knuckles until you saw stars. What idiocy. You had to cease these daydream scenarios or you’d be in deep shit in the future. You were an atrocious cultist.

---

I hope everyone enjoyed this. If you liked this, please give a comment/like/reblog. I listened to the Professor Tox remix of LOONA’s Girl Front and Ariana Grande’s Love Me Harder while writing this.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #sukuna x reader #sukuna smut #sukuna #jjk #jjk reader insert

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yespleasetommyshelby · 3 years

Text

Should've just asked - Part 2 - Oscar Diaz

One week, seven days, 168 hours, 10080 minutes, 604800 seconds, since he fucked everything up with y/n. Threw it all away because his own insecurities got the better off him, all because he didn't just ask.

He hadn't seen sad eyes since that day either, leaving him alone to stew in his own bubble of self pity. He hadn't left his home since that day, instead opting to send Cesar to the store when something was needed or delegating his Santo's jobs to other members. The bags that y/n and Sad eyes had left behind in the mall sitting against the wall opposite him, mocking him with their bright colours and smiling logos, he'd looked through them as soon as he'd gotten home, each one filled with balloons, banners, anything you would need to through a birthday, even a badge that read 'birthday king' in big bold letters.

Today was his birthday, his 26th, a day where he should've been out in the yard celebrating with one of his famous Santo's parties with the love of his life by his side but instead he was sat in an empty house, bar his younger brother, wallowing in a pit of self pity.

"You still sulking?" Cesar asked as he watched his brother stare at the blank space by his feet, interrupting his pity party.

"Fuck off." He muttered, reaching for the half smoked joint that had been abandoned in the ashtray an hour ago.

"It's been a week Oscar, you can't sit around moping all the time, yeah you fucked up, I get it, but sitting here isn't helping anything." Cesar sighed, this past week he'd seen a side of his older brother that he couldn't remember seeing before, sad and bitchy Spooky was not a pretty sight.

"You don't get shit." Oscar sighed as he lit his joint, breathing in the smoke before exhaling slowly. "I fucked up the best thing to ever happen to me, to us, I lost mi amor Cesar." He mumbled, his eyes filling with tears that he rapidly tried to blink back.

"I know, I know I've never had anything like what you and y/n have, how about we go to the mall? I need some new trainers for school." Cesar asked, watching Oscars face carefully.

"Can't you take your little groupie with you?" Oscar muttered, stubbing out his joint in the ashtray before leaning back and covering his eyes with his arm.

"Please Oscar, it'll help get your mind of shit." Cesar tried again, desperate to get Oscar out of the house and the hole he was currently wallowing in.

"Fine." He sighed, pulling himself up and heading towards the door, missing Cesar pull out his phone and send a quick text.

He's out.

-------

Just down the street y/n grinned as her phone dinged, the text she'd been waiting for finally coming through.

"Hey Sad eyes!" She called into the spare room where he had been staying for the last week, opting to stay and comfort the upset girl rather than spending nights in his own bed.

"What's up?" He asked as he opened the door, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"Were you seriously sleeping at 2 in the afternoon?" She asked with an amused smile. "Anyway, Cesar's managed to get Oscar out the house so I'm heading over there now, you coming?" She asked with a smile, excited yet nervous at the thought of seeing Oscar again.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm coming, just give me two minutes." The man grumbled before going back into the room.

Yes, y/n was still pissed about how Oscar had acted a week ago, calling her out for being a cheat in the middle of the mall after doing nothing more than planning his birthday. But at the same time the last week had been hell, she'd received multiple texts and missed calls from Oscar, all apologising for that day, for making a fool out of all three of them. No matter how badly he had embarrassed her that day he was still the only thing in her heart, the love of her life and she was determined not to throw it all away, they had fixed every other problem that had arose in their relationship and they was going to fix this too. Which is why her and Sad eyes were currently on their way to the Diaz household, ready to throw him the most surprising surprise party there ever was.

"Alright, you start to put the food out and I'll get started with the decorations." Y/n smiled as she went over to the bags sat against the wall, the same ones that her and Sad eyes had gotten at the mall. "I'm surprised he didn't throw this out." She mused, digging through the bags to find the balloons.

"I've told you, the guys borderline obsessed with you." Sad eyes laughed from the kitchen.

An hour later and everything was set up, banners covered the walls, balloons floated through the house and yard alike while the food and drinks tables looked immaculate, thanks to Ruby's help.

Everything was in full swing, music blasting, drinks in people's hands as she received yet another text that she was waiting for.

2 minutes out.

"Alright! Everyone be quiet, he's just coming!" Y/n yelled, the music being cut and the loud laughter turning to hushed murmurs as her nerves grew knowing Oscar was just about to walk through the doors.

The loud slamming of the front door caught everyone's attention as they stood anxiously waiting for the Santos leader, the faint 'what the fuck is this?' Making her chuckle only being able to imagine how confused Oscar must have looked right then.

"Surprise!" Everyone cheered as Oscar and Cesar appeared at the back door, Cesar sporting a grin as Oscars wide eyes roamed the crowd before landing on y/n.

"You did this?" He asked quietly, not yet making a move as his mind tried to decide whether this was real, if she really was stood right in front of him.

"Well." She smiled bashfully. "I had some help." She shrugged as Sad Eyes came from round the corner with two coronas in his hands.

"Happy birthday Spooky." He smiled, holding a bottle out for Oscar to take, smiling and clinking their bottles together once Oscar took one.

"Aye, listen man, I'm, uh, I'm sorry about hitting you, the other day." Oscar sighed, feeling weird having to apologise for punching someone who was basically his brother.

"No worries Spook." Sad eyes chuckled patting his brother on the shoulder. "Now go get your girl." He smirked, nodding towards y/n who was stood a few feet away talking to Cesar and Jamal.

"Hey, uh, can we talk?" Oscar asked walking up to her and rubbing the back of his neck from the nerves.

"Yeah, sure." She smiled, feeling her heart beating through her chest as she looked up into his eyes.

They were both stood staring at each other before Cesar clearing his throat pulled them out of whatever trance they were in.

"Hey Jamal how about we go find Ruby?" Cesar asked, raising his eyebrows at Jamal who just didn't seem to get the hint.

"What? Why? We see him all the time." The young boy shrugged, oblivious to the scowls he was receiving from the Diaz brothers and the amused look from y/n.

"Beat it." Oscar deadpanned, smirking as Jamal quickly turned and walked away leaving Cesar to follow with a chuckle.

"Was there any need for that?" Y/n giggled as she turned back to Oscar, looking up at him with an amused glint in her eye.

"Kid doesn't know when to take a hint." Oscar shrugged, not seeing the issue in how he spoke to Jamal in the slightest.

"Yeah well, he is Jamal." Y/n shrugged with a laugh. "Anyway, what was it you wanted to say?" She asked remembering why the Santo had come to her in the first place.

"I uh, I just wanted to say I'm sorry, ya know, for blowing up on you the other day, I know how stupid I was being and I called you out for bullshit you didn't even do." Oscar sighed, his hand that wasn't holding his beer clenching and unclenching at his side as he tried to find the right words. "Just uh, just the thought that you were out with some other cabrón made me see red, I didn't even think to ask, I just wanted to punch whoever it was in the face." He spoke quietly, y/n only just hearing him over the music that had started up again.

"Oscar, you're right, it was stupid." She snorted making Oscars heart drop his eyes going straight to the floor, it was too late. "But." She started, making his eyes flick back up to her immediately. "But I love you Oscar Diaz, I love you so fucking much that this last week has been killing me. I don't know what to do when I'm not with you Oscar, and I don't ever want to have to do that again." She sighed, a lone tear a sliding down her cheek which he quickly reached up to wipe away.

"I love you too mi amor, I know I get jealous and over protective but that's only because I don't want any one taking you away from me, not now, not ever." He mumbled shaking his head slightly before putting his bottle down on the nearest table.

"I know, baby, I know." Y/n smiled, reaching up taking his face in her hands, thumbs rubbing along his jawline gently. "You know if the roles were reversed I would've done much more to any hyna I thought was coming for you." She giggled, already having thrown hands with one before.

"Trust me, I remember, that shit was hot." Oscar chuckled, wrapping his arms around her waist as hers slid from his face to going around his neck, opting to rub the bottom of his neck rather than jaw line.

"Now what?" Y/n asked, her eyes flickering between his.

"What do you want?" Oscar asked quietly, not wanting to push her into anything that she didn't want.

"What do I want? I want you Oscar Diaz, I want you everyday for the rest of my life, jealousy and temper included." She laughed as he rolled his eyes sarcastically.

"Good." Oscar smirked down at her. "Because I ain't never letting you go." He whispered, pulling her towards him, leaning down and planting his lips on hers for the first time in a week.

"I love you Oscar." She mumbled happily, resting her head on his chest as his arms wrapped around her back.

"I love you too mi amor." He smiled, placing a kiss on her forehead and squeezing her tight.

"Also, watching you punch sad eyes in the face really turned me on." She mumbled with a laugh as she felt Oscar tense slightly.

"Is that right?" He chuckled, looking down at her. "Well it's been a week, we best take care of that." He laughed before pulling away and lifting her over his shoulder before heading into the house landing a swift smack to her backside.

"Woo! Spookys gunna get some!" Was heard as he carried her through to the bedroom, both of them laughing as he threw her onto the bed.

"You're so perfect mi Reina." Oscar whispered leaning over her as he stroked a few stray hairs out of her face.

"If anyone's perfect here it's you." Y/n smiled letting her eyes wonder his beautiful features. "Just promise me something." She mumbled after placing a quick peck to his lips.

"Anything." He answered immediately, ready to give anything and everything to make her happy.

"Next time, just ask." She giggled as he rolled his eyes.

"Putá." He mumbled as he leaned down for a slow kiss.

"But you love me anyway." She whispered.

"Always mi amor."

One week without seeing each other.

Seven days without so much as a smile.

168 hours without a kiss.

10080 minutes without an 'I love you'.

604800 seconds without each other.

One surprise party to fix it all.

#on my block #on my block imagine #on my block imagines #spooky diaz #Oscar diaz imagine #Oscar diaz imagines #spooky diaz imagine #spooky diaz imagines #should've just asked

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seeuonadarknite · 4 years

Text

freak — yandere oikawa tooru x f. reader

warnings: noncon, bullying, degradation, creampie, hickeys, exhibitionism

Milk bread? Check. Coffee? Got it. Gum?

"Shit!" The sound of your school loafers pattering against the sidewalk resonated throughout the desolate road as you hastily detoured back to the gas station. You were probably the store's first customer of the day, and here you were ever so graciously returning because you forgot something as minimal as chewing gum.

Any sane person would forget the gum and continue their journey towards the school. But you were far from that. You had to have a few screws loose if you willingly took time out of your day to cater to your high school bully and buy him a few of his favorite snacks. Hell, his friends have even dubbed you as his little admirer due to your obedient nature.

But you weren't catering to his needs like some sort of servant because you wanted to impress him. The only thing that kept you from smacking him across the face and calling him a stuck up jerk was pure fear. You're not some masochist that enjoys being taken advantage of by someone with a power imbalance over you all because of his stupid social status, but your options are limited.

It's either play along with his brutal torment for the rest of the last semester, or try and defend yourself and place a giant target on your back for his vicious fan girls. And even if you tried fighting him back, you wouldn't even need to be outnumbered by his friends to lose. We're talking about the Grand King here. He'd take you down by himself in a matter of seconds.

As hard as it was being seen as a freak that embraced Oikawa's torment, you'd much rather lose your dignity rather than your own safety. If Oikawa told those girls that you tried laying a pretty little finger on him, he'd be throwing you into a pit of rabid wolves to shred you apart and eat you alive.

Plus, you weren't as bad as everyone made you out to be. If there was anything Oikawa was better at other than playing volleyball, it was lying. He could spread a rumor about you robbing a damn bank and not a single person would bat an eye at his impossible claim. The fact that he has the entire school body in the palm of his hand is more than unsettling. Saying you weren't interested in testing his immeasurable power was an understatement.

Sprinting over to the spot behind the school that Oikawa was oh so keen on meeting you at, your heavy pants soon turned into wheezes. God, you were only three minutes late but you were shaking like a leaf. If anything positive came out of this situation, it was that you learned that it'd be a good idea to bring a grocery list next time, and maybe some water.

"You're late, [y/n]. Care to explain?" It wasn't hard to miss the irritation that laced the normally cheerful male's tone. Lo and behold, Oikawa was already stood at your regular spot, looking as cocky and smug as ever. There was nothing that excited him more than watching your face visibly drop at the sight of his presence. What, did you really think you'd get by with being even a second late? Time was precious, and you weren't going to get away with wasting his.

Oikawa basked in the way you powerlessly trembled as he made his way towards you. You didn't even bother trying to cower away, it was priceless! Placing a hand on your chin, he forcefully tilted your head upwards and rubbed a thumb over your lower lip. "I-I'm sorry! I.. I forgot the gum.." He shot you a glare. "B-But I went back and got it! That's why I'm a little late.." You could barely even muster up a coherent response, you were so nervous.

Judging by the way he ripped the grocery bag out of your hand and began rummaging through the contents of the bag, he was not buying your excuse. Picking up the can of cold coffee you had specifically picked out for him, his eyes narrowed in disgust. "You got me the kind with creamer. Are you trying ruin my perfect body image?"

Diverting his gaze from the coffee to you, he sent you an expectant look. If you didn't come up with a reasonable excuse within the course of a few seconds, Oikawa would make you regret waking up this morning. "This was the last one left! I'm sorry—" Lies. You cut yourself off as you felt a cold, sticky substance run down your chest and seep through your school uniform.

He was pouring the coffee you had paid for all over your chest, wearing a sickeningly sweet smile while doing so. You couldn't tell what was more discomforting, the feeling of ice cold coffee sticking to your skin, dripping all the way down to your bellybutton, or the unsettlingly lustful gaze Oikawa held on your figure. He had to be joking. Sure, he was a jerk that got off on making your life a living hell, but he never took it to such perverse extents.

"Aww, you look so cute with your tits covered in coffee. You must be freezing! I'll warm you up." Somehow the idea of him warming you up sent chills running up your spine. There was no way in hell he was about to do something thoughtful like giving you his jacket or helping you clean up the mess he deliberately made.

Forcefully grabbing you by the shoulders, Oikawa shoved you onto the cement with ease, watching your face contort into a cringe. You could already feel the rough texture of the ground scraping at your skin through the thin fabric of your uniform. Was he about to beat the shit out of you? Why was he looking down at you like a starved carnivore?

Instead of answering the questions rapidly flowing through your head, Oikawa straddled your waist with both lanky legs. However, instead of trying to fight him back, you stare at him with a dejected look in hopes of him hurrying up whatever the hell he planned on doing.

"Now, I'm sure you're not big on getting attacked by my loyal fans. So do me a massive favor and be quiet, alright?" You wanted to wipe the stupid smirk right off of his face as he basically threatened you. This man was about to use you for his own personal pleasure and there was nothing you could do about it.

Glancing down at your glossy eyes one last time, Oikawa basks in the fearful expression that adorns your face. Making quick work of your coffee stained uniform, he popped open the buttons, giving himself a clear frontal view of your sticky cleavage.

A small smirk tugged at his lips as he glanced down at the lacy bra that adorned your body. "Not only have you decided to wear such a lewd piece of clothing, but you wore the kind that snaps open in the front? Ahh, you must want me to fuck you."

Oikawa wasted no time in snapping open your bra, allowing your breasts to spring free. Both of your tits were on perfect display for the setter's hungry eyes to gaze at. You felt powerless and small under his primal stare. It couldn't possibly get any more worse than this.

Maybe the rumors were right, maybe you were a tad bit unhinged. Any sane person would've seen this coming from a fucking psychopath like Oikawa. "P-Please.. don't do this.." You gave pleading one last shot as you stared pathetically into his chocolate brown eyes that gleamed with amusement.

Unfortunately for you, your doe eyes only seemed to egg the cocky brunette on as he roughly clasped your breasts with each hand. Although the uncomfortable, yucky feeling of coffee sticking to your skin still lingered, the only thing you could zero in on was your tormentor's working hands as he squeezed your hardened nipples in between his slender fingers.

He was squeezing and fondling your sensitive mounds like stress balls. Did he forget that you were a human just like him? Has he really amounted you to a mere plaything for him to toy with whenever he pleased? With the way that his hands kneaded and pulled at your breasts like dough, you were beginning to think that your theories were correct.

His half lidded eyes flicker up to yours for a split second, allowing him to witness the deliciously mortified expression you wore. Within a fluid movement, Oikawa leans down and traps your lips in a ferocious kiss. It started off with just Oikawa forcefully merging his lips onto yours, but with the squeeze of your breast you regretfully gasped, allowing passageway for his wet appendage.

It's hard to decipher what's more uncomfortable; the feeling of Oikawa's tongue swishing around yours, rendering it nearly impossible to breathe or the obvious hard on he has rubbing up against your skin. When he finally pulls away, his breaths are heavy and uneven.

Hooking his fingers under the waistbands of your skirt and panties, Oikawa tugs the elastics down, watching as your slick strings down along with your panties. Crimson shaded your cheeks as you averted your gaze from Oikawa's. If there was any possible way of coping with the mortifying situation at hand, it'd be closing your eyes and pretending to be anywhere but where you were.

Unfortunately for you, sight wasn't your only sense. Shutting your eyes wouldn't stop you from hearing the sound of Oikawa's belt buckle clinking, and it wouldn't prevent you from feeling his hardened cock running across your thigh. Opening your eyes, you couldn't help the audible gasp that escaped your lips as you gazed at his cock. It was as big in girth and in length as all of his fan girls had claimed. You really hoped that they had been bluffing.

Oikawa seemed to appreciate your unwavering eyes, as he prodded the tip of his cock at your hole. "Wait! Please, don't.. At least use a rubber." You pleaded, trying your hardest not to let any lewd noises to escape your mouth as he began easing his head into the walls of your cunt. However, all your pleading did was evoke an amused chuckle from the man top of you.

"Aww, that's all you're worried about? Don't worry, I'll pull out," He coos, grabbing the curves of your hips to steady himself as he pushes himself further inside of your pulsating hole. As uncomfortable as the foreign feeling of Oikawa's massive cock pushing your walls apart was, you felt a small wave of relief wash over you upon hearing his response.

He seemed to notice the look of relief taking over your features, because he sent you an ear to ear grin that put the cheshire cat to shame. With a forceful thrust that would surely leave you sore, Oikawa finally pushes the rest of his length into the constricting walls of your cunt. "..after I cum inside of you!" He grabs onto your legs and folds them into your chest within a fluid movement, making it easier for his cock to reach spots your measly fingers would never be able to find.

He either didn't notice or decided to ignore the the way your body physically tensed at his response. He was joking. Right? Sure, he obviously knew no boundaries and had no problem using and abusing your body, but you assumed he had the smallest bit of self control. Maybe you were thinking too highly of him.

Rearing his hips back a fraction, Oikawa thrusts back into you, already kissing the tip of your cervix with the head of his cock. His pace starts off slow and steady, allowing your insides to memorize each and every curve and vein on his cock. If you weren't so upset with him for doing this against your will, you would've been appreciative of his benign thrusts.

Glancing up at the clock that hung from the back of the school, Oikawa cringed. He had to make this quick. His comfortable, languid pace quickens as soon as you can relax. The once quiet spot behind the school is soon filled with sounds of grunts, moans, and ear deafening slaps. Any regard for your personal comfort is gone out the window, as he thrusts in and out of you at a rapid, unrhythmic pace.

He nestles his head into the crook of your neck, running his lips over the sensitive skin whilst his hips smack against yours at what feels like one hundred miles per hour. "Maybe I'll mark you. Nobody else will be allowed to fuck you like this, only me.." If your mind wasn't zeroed in on the feeling of his balls slapping your rear at full speed, you would of picked up on the hint of possessiveness in his tone.

Eyes trained on the skin of your neck, Oikawa began sucking and nibbling, leaving a trail of purple bruises starting from your neck and ending at your chest. It was a mystery how he managed to create love bites and brutally fuck your hole at the same time.

Just the twitch of his cock causes your insides to squeeze at his length like a snake constricting around its victim. "Fuck, you're really tight, huh?" He grunted in your ear, basking in the way your insides devoured his throbbing cock with each and every thrust.

As Oikawa somehow managed to fasten his pace, he moved his hand down south, placing the pads of his fingers onto your swollen nub. If you weren't close before, you definitely were now. With the pressure of his fingers working absolute wonders on your clit, and his throbbing cock desperately pushing at your cervix, your body begged you for release. A small knot formed in your abdomen as his movements quickened, and your plushy walls began clamping down on Oikawa's cock.

With one last harsh hit to your cervix, you come undone, gushing your juices all over his twitching cock. As soon as you reach your well awaited climax, your vision begins to spot and your brain starts to fog. You were far too dazed to focus in on Oikawa hooking his arms over your thighs and slamming himself into your aching hole at a ferocious pace. "Aw, what a little baby! You came so fast." He taunted in your ear, half lidded eyes trained on your figure as he pummeled into you with hostile thrusts.

Although he teased you for releasing so fast, he felt his own climax arise with the way your innards hugged his cock. All it took was one last final thrust into the milking clutch of your cunt before he reached his end, hitting your swollen cervix one last time to shoot his load into your womb with a drawn out groan. God, he didn't regret ditching his condom for a second. Seeing his hot, thick fluids seep from your quivering hole boosted his already inflated ego. Only he was capable of leaving you like this.

Sliding his cock out of your dripping cunt, Oikawa watched as you sat up from your spot on the cement and began buttoning up your shirt. Cute, now coffee wasn't the only sticky substance splattered all over your skin.

After pulling his pants back up and fixing his disheveled hair, he helped you up from the ground. It would've been a kind gesture, if he hadn't followed it by forcefully tugging your panties back up with a condescending grin. "Don't go to the bathroom or wash up. If you do, I'll fuck you again and cum inside of you twice. Don't forget, I have eyes everywhere." His voice was disturbingly cheerful for the unsettling words that came from his mouth.

Sending you one last signature grin, he flashed a peace sign at you like you were one of his fan girls asking for a picture. It baffled you how two faced he could be at times. "See you later, slut!" He giggled before leaving you alone at the scene, drenched in all kinds of different liquids.

Whoever told you that high school was going to be easy was lying through their teeth.

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write-r-die · 3 years

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Prisoner - Part 17

March 1067, Norman Conquest of England

Masterlist

A/N: Drama!!

gif from demivampirew

For the first time in a long time, Thomasin felt safe.

Henry made her promise never to remove the pendant he gave her. It seemed terribly important to him, though Thomasin didn’t know why. Still, she agreed without question.

Henry never did shout at her. He didn’t like being angry, especially with someone he loved. Instead, he sat his wife down like a child and looked very deeply into her grey eyes while simply telling her she would never disobey him again, nor would she disagree with him in public. She was welcome to shout and scream and call him all sorts of names when they were alone together, but their situation was precarious. They had to present a united front so no one – just Lawrence, really – would think to pit them against each other.

Lawrence, though, seemed the same as ever. Maybe even scarier. He always had that awful grin on his face. He never got red; that’s what really worried both Henry and Tom. He was too calm, too self-assured. He planned out what he would do to them; now they were stuck in fear until he decided to act. It had only been a week since the wedding, and there was no telling how long Lawrence would wait. But he wasn’t a patient man.

Henry didn’t let Thomasin see his fear over Lawrence’s retribution. Since the wedding, she’d become all soft and willing. He thought she showed something akin to vulnerability. When they were alone, she would sit on his lap or press herself right against his side. They needed to be touching when they went to sleep, either with Henry spooning against her back or Thomasin lounging across his chest. She demanded his attention and affection. Henry obliged her, even going beyond. He’d kiss her in public when he thought no one was looking. She didn’t even mind.

He met her vulnerability with steady confidence. He’d sworn to look after her more times than he could count, and now that she was finally allowing it, he didn’t want to show any weakness. That was what husbands did for their wives – they remained strong and sure.

Henry asked a baron sailing back to Normandy to deliver the message to his family that he was wed; he was quite sure his mother would cry upon hearing the news.

“Should we send someone to tell your family?” he asked that night as he and Tom lay in the dark together. He was pressed tightly against Thomasin’s back. She used one of his arms as a pillow, and his free hand roamed over her body.

“I haven’t got a family,” Thomasin replied.

Henry nuzzled her rosy gold hair. “Yes, you do.” He kissed the back of her neck and sighed into her hair. “And you’ll never be rid of me.”

When the king finally summoned Henry, it wasn’t to chastise him. If he did mean to shout at Henry, it was low on his list of things to do. Henry found himself in something of a war council among other barons and knights of high praise.

“It is time to execute the Saxons,” William announced. “I’ve kept them alive for too long. It will embolden other rebels to attack if they believe I won’t kill them.”

“The rebels are all but gone,” a middle-aged baron said. “Even that young baron from the north has disappeared.” He looked at Henry from the corner of his eye; everyone knew he was referring to Hammond.

“Permanent imprisonment is not much better than death,” another put in.

“All the same,” said the king. “The surviving Saxon prisoners will be put to death by hanging this afternoon. I expect you all to bear witness.”

“What about our wives?” a knight asked. Henry was grateful someone other than him asked the question. “Should they attend?”

William shook his head. “Tis no sight for a woman’s eyes.” He took a deep breath before declaring, “It is warm enough now to travel. We will hunt down the other rebels. If we cannot capture or kill them, we will at least run them out of England and keep them in exile for the rest of their lives.”

The men started shuffling out, murmuring to each other about the Saxon threat. Henry lagged behind the crowd, too lost in his thoughts to keep a fast pace. He was so distracted that he didn’t even notice when Lawrence sidled up beside him.

Lawrence made a sound like a sigh. “I do hope poor Tom won’t be too broken up over Cerdic’s execution.”

Henry felt like he had the wind knocked out of him. How did he find out about Thomasin’s relationship with Cerdic? How much did he know about it? What execution? Was that why the barons and knights were gathering?

But the true source of his fury was the fact that Lawrence had referred to his wife as Tom.

Lawrence looked at Henry from the corner of his eye. “Are you broken up, dear Henry?”

He turned his gaze to the other man, a savage look in his eyes. “You will never speak my wife’s name again. Do you understand me?”

Lawrence bowed his head in mock apology before moving along.

Henry paused in a nook in the corridor and ran his hand over his face. Damn.

Coming to England was like stepping in dog shit that one could never quite wipe away. Meeting Thomasin was like stepping in dog shit. One bad thing followed another like a cloying stink with that poor girl.

No, Henry realized. Thomasin meeting him when the troubles started.

***

Thomasin was grateful that Henry had been able to spend both his days and his nights with her. She knew it could not last forever, but she was sad all the same when he was called away, no doubt to discuss matters of war.

Now she would have to spend her days embroidering with other ladies or pursuing some other womanly hobby. She was never terribly good at that, though. At one point, her governess simply gave up trying to make Thomasin a proper lady. Her father let her have free reign of the estate so long as someone was always nearby and she returned to the keep by dark.

She imagined having a similar arrangement with Henry, but they first needed an estate of their own. Everyone assumed the king would give them the estate Thomasin grew up in, but she secretly hoped he would not. It would be haunted, at least for her, and she was sure she would never feel comfortable there. It wasn’t her home anymore. Just another conquered fortress.

The couple spoke a little of returning to Normandy so Tom could meet Henry’s family and there were some vague mentions of estates near his brothers that might be suitable for their needs, but they hadn’t had a real conversation about it. What they wanted didn’t matter; William would likely keep Henry in England to fight his endless war against Thomasin’s way of life. Maybe they would be dismissed in a few years when things were calmer.

She would have to figure out how to spend her days. Her only true friend at court was Elaine, but the healer was often busy during the day. Thomasin accompanied her on a meeting with an elderly baroness with a horrifying rash; she would never do so again.

She was returning from a brisk walk when she nearly crashed into her husband and his friends on their way out.

“Henry!” Thomasin bounced forward and grabbed onto his hand. She waited for him to kiss her while Charlie and Roger were pretending not to look. She knew something was wrong when he didn’t. “Are you well?”

Henry’s expression was as hard as it had been the day Thomasin tried to escape from him. She resisted the urge to step back. “Thomasin, go back to our rooms. Wait for me there.”

His clear agitation alarmed her; she spoke as calmly as she could. “Is something amiss?”

“Do as I say. I’ll be along soon.” He turned to Kal. “You go with her.”

Something must be truly wrong if Henry was willing to part with his shadow, even for an hour or two. Thomasin’s eyes flickered to Charlie for some hint of what was happening, but his expression was as stony as ever. Roger hadn’t stopped when Thomasin intercepted them so she could not look to him for clues.

She glanced at Henry one more time. He didn’t look all right. She wanted an explanation here and now, but she remembered her promise not to disobey him in public. Staying and demanding something from him would certainly count as disobedience. “Of course,” Thomasin said, forcing a mild tone of voice. She gave a shallow curtsey.

She was chattering to Kal as they walked up a tight staircase when she heard a ruckus outside. There were no windows in the stairwell, only thin slats from which archers inside the castle could shoot at enemy soldiers in case of an attack, but they would do.

Thomasin rocked up on her tiptoes to peer through one of them. There was a large cluster of men spread out across the field. They stood in clumps of three or four, talking among themselves as a handful of servants erected some makeshift structure she couldn’t quite make out. Perhaps if she had something to stand on, she would be able to see more clearly . . .

Kal made a grumbling sound.

“I don’t mean to ignore you, Kal,” Thomasin said. “I just want to see what’s going on.”

She never thought it unusual for one to speak to one’s pets, and Henry regularly held complex conversations with the bear, so she wasn’t embarrassed to talk to him in public as other women might be.

Thomasin pushed up a little further and caught a glimpse of fresh scaffolding, then of a handful of shackled men making their way over to it. The Saxon prisoners were finally being executed, then. Thomasin couldn’t blame Henry for not telling her. He was only trying to protect her.

She was about to turn away when she glimpsed a familiar silhouette and an even more familiar red beard. She squinted into the fading light as the hangman put a rope around the Saxon’s thick neck.

She hated that neck. She once joked to Justina that she’d like to strangle him, but his neck was as sturdy as a thick branch on a tree. She’d only tire herself out trying to kill him.

Cerdic.

Thomasin was so shocked and upset that she pushed away from the window too hard and fell backwards; Kal softened her fall somewhat.

For a moment she couldn’t move or even draw in a lungful of air. Kal was breathing in right in her face, but she didn’t care. She felt removed from somehow, as if she weren’t truly in her body.

Cerdic was a ridiculous oaf, but she’d known him all her life. She’d cared for him not as a lover or brother or even a friend, but in the way a woman was expected to care for her husband-to-be. And he was all that was left of her life before.

It was easier when she thought he was dead, that he’d died in the fray along with most of the other Saxon men. She’d grieved him in her own strange way and put his memory behind her, but now everything swelled up again and tightened her throat.

This was the last straw. She was strong but she wasn't made of ice. There was only so much someone could endure before they broke.

And Thomasin truly did break.

She ran to her rooms barely holding back tears. Her throat was sore with the effort of holding in sobs and her hands were shaking so hard that she almost couldn’t open the latch on the door to the antechamber.

She barely made it through the antechamber and into the bedroom before she fell apart. She slammed the bedroom door before Kal could follow and fell forward on her hands and knees into the rushes scattered on the floor; she couldn’t hold herself together a moment longer, not even long enough to reach the bed. She began to weep so hard that she could barely breathe. She made choked, ugly sobbing sounds she couldn’t control that shook her shoulders as snot and tears ran down her face.

Kal whined and scratched at the door, desperate to comfort his mother.

Thomasin kicked the door hard enough to shake the hinges. “Go away!” she shrieked. Her throat was already raw.

She was too tired to move anymore, even to get into bed. She fell to her side and curled in on herself, shivering like a dog left outside in a storm, still whimpering and gasping for breath.

***

Henry stood with Charlie and Roger as they waited for the executions to begin.

“You look unwell,” Henry remarked to his brother-by-law.

Roger heaved a sigh. “It’s always said when something beautiful dies.”

“What, the men?” Charlie asked.

Roger turned to face his friends. “Their lives. Their spirits.” Their physical forms, too, of course.

“That’s the nature of conquest,” Charlie said. “The old ways must end for the new ones to begin. If people cannot accept change . . .” He shrugged.

“I do not like the end part. You must feel some grief on behalf of Thomasin, Henry,” Roger said. “I cannot imagine. . .” he trailed off.

“I didn’t tell her,” Henry said.

“She’ll find out,” Charlie said neutrally. He still didn’t like Thomasin by any stretch of the imagination, but he was coming to accept her. “Assuming she hasn’t already.”

Henry knew that, knew it would be better to tell her himself. He just couldn’t bring himself to do it.

“I know,” he said.

***

Cerdic had no last words – or if he did, Henry didn’t hear them.

The men were strung up all at once, the nooses looped around their necks and the wooden bench kicked out from under them. A crueler king might have removed their heads one by one to heighten their fear, but William just wanted the business done with. He’d likely cut their heads off afterwards to mount on spikes near the city gates, though.

Henry left the first moment he could. Thomasin was probably fuming quietly in their room, probably repeatedly stabbing herself in the finger as she furiously embroidered something or other. He hoped so.

Charlie was right: Thomasin had probably found out about the executions somehow. He prayed that she didn’t know Cerdic was among the dead. He wasn’t sure what reaction to expect.

He tried to enter the antechamber quietly, but the room was deathly silent; every small sound he made seemed to echo. The first thing he saw was Kal stretched out in front of the door that led to the bedroom, his chin resting on top of his paws. He looked downright pensive.

“Kal.”

The dog leapt to attention as Henry knelt to scratch his ear.

“Good boy,” Henry murmured.

Kal whined, trying to communicate that something was wrong with Thomasin. He’d been guarding her as best as he could, but she wouldn’t let him into the bedroom.

Henry scratched Kal one more time before steeling himself. He opened the bedroom door. His wife lay on her side on the floor, still sniffling and hiccupping from weeping.

“Tom?” he knelt on the ground beside her.

She moved her head the slightest bit to look up at him with bloodshot eyes. “You knew that Cerdic was here. That he was alive.” She was too exhausted to inject an accusatory tone into her raspy voice.

Henry took a deep breath. A lock of her rosy golden hair had gotten free of its braid; he gently tucked it behind her ear. “Yes.”

Her chin quivered as her eyes filled with tears. She shut them and turned away. “It was easier when . . .”

“I know.”

Her chin still moved. “I wish William had never come to England,” she said, voice high and tight. “I wish I’d never laid eyes on a Norman.”

Henry took a deep breath. “Tom, you can’t blame every Norm –”

“Yes I can!” She shouted, jumping to her feet. Henry stood, too. On the other side of the door, Kal whimpered. “It’s your fault! You came here and you took what wasn't yours and you killed the men and raped the women. My country is dead!” Her voice cracked. “I have nothing left! You took everything from me!”

Henry’s voice was low but strong. “You have me.”

“I don’t want you!” she shouted. Her words cut Henry like the blade of a knife. “You or your bastard king and your merciless countrymen! I wish I’d never met you! I – I –”

I want to go home.

“Enough, Tom,” said Henry. “You’ll give yourself a fit.” Thomasin reached for the back of her neck; Henry caught her hands in his and stopped her before she even touched the necklace’s clasp. “Don’t,” he said softly.

Thomasin shoved away from him so hard she nearly fell backwards. Henry, who had the build of a stone wall, hardly budged. That made her so furious that she slapped him – tried to, anyway. Henry caught her wrist in his hand and used it to tug her close.

“Let go!” she shouted. “Henry, let me go!”

But he held her to his chest and would not unlock his grip. She kept shoving and hitting him until he finally released her – only to capture her again.

Somehow, she was suddenly lying back on the bed, her wrists firmly locked in Henry’s grasp as he pinned them above her head. He hovered over her on his knees, locking her legs between his strong thighs to make sure she didn’t try to kick him in her anger.

“Thomasin, enough!” he shouted.

Exhausted, she finally gave up the fight. She sank limp against the bed and started to weep.

She’d never cried in front of him before, Henry thought. He wasn’t even sure if she cried when she was wounded on the road. There were tears in her eyes on their wedding night and the day she tried to escape from him in the forest, but he didn’t think they ever spilled over.

He couldn’t stand to watch but he couldn’t look away. Thomasin needed him now. She was in mourning – for her father, her former betrothed, her relationships with her siblings, her country. She was mourning her own life, too, and what it might have been if William had never come.

“I hate you,” Thomasin whimpered through her tears.

“No, you don’t.” Her husband’s voice was tired but kind as he released her wrists and climbed off of her.

Her eyes were already shut; her outburst at Henry and fit of emotion after seeing Cerdic hanged drained her of all energy and she was on the very edge of sleep. “I hate you, Henry,” she insisted weakly.

Henry knew she wasn’t sincere, that she was just speaking out of anger, but the words still stung him all the same.

It wouldn’t hurt him at all if she’d just say out loud that she loved him. He only needed to hear it once. None of her accusations or insults would bother him if he knew beyond a doubt that she loved him even half as much as he loved her. With those words, he’d be invincible.

But she didn’t say it. Maybe she never would. She loved him, Henry was sure of it, but she was too proud to admit it.

Tom’s tears had slowed and turned from sobs to sniffles to deep, loud breathing.

Henry stayed beside her in bed, both of them still fully dressed, and soon drifted off. She turned to him in her sleep, unconsciously taking her rightful place in his arms and against his chest. Henry didn’t wake; his body knew instinctively to put his arms around her.

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goddamnitdazai · 3 years

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Doldrums | Dazai {AU}

The Tea House is the only clean place in all of the three outlying territories; the capital and castle are overflowing with gold. There's boredom in both places and freedom in neither. Dazai finds the only way to amuse himself and you're just curious enough to agree. {fic under the cut} [ao3 link] x [patreon]

The long reign of the king ended unexpectedly. Within the first few months of the king’s death, the prodigal heir to the throne was crowned the one-hundred-and-fifteen King of Tartalya. Despite what the royal family toted to the public the new king only resembled his father in strategical demeanor. The prince’s (now king) features were prominent and sharp whereas the previous king had cheeks still plump with baby fat and a wide smile. Prince Osamu never smiled; that was the rumor anyway.

Per Tartalya tradition the new king was married within the first month of his new position. His wife, the dutchess of a rich port territory, fawned over him endlessly. A polished depiction of what Tartalya’s queen should be. Sweet, humble, and above all else, proper. Tartalya’s prior king required indisputable perfection within his court and their partners. Any imperfections were snuffed out quicker than a strong wind extinguishes a candle. The ruthless king’s only heir was no exception to these strict expectations; a rumor from the high court states the prince’s wife was picked when they were both ten years old due to her bloodline, manners, and demeanor. Rumors from the high courts were often stretched and dissected until they resembled fables, but there was truth to some extent. That is what you were taught to believe anyway. Take the words of a man with as you would an ill-cooked gift; chew with conviction then spit it out when their back is turned. You were taught this of all rumors and of all men. Of the region claimed by Tarayla’s century-old monarch, only three territories have been allowed to rule without direct sanctions from the high court or prince. They are considered the dark outliers in both qualities of life and the quality of inhabitants. These three territories provide shelter for merchants coming to port looking to gamble and drink, criminals from other territories seeking asylum, and those who are not able to afford a single room within the cheapest region of Tartayla’s kingdom. Like many of the other inhabitants born in Valnnin, your mother chose to leave you at the Tea House under the care of the Ozaki clan the day after you’d turned five. She was paid a handsome fee and signed a contract never to return to the Tea House. Supposedly, many women bear children simply to drop them at the Tea House for the reward. That rumor was not hard to believe given the state of Valnnin. Decent money offered the means to escape Valnnin to the closest region in Tartayla, Soinet, where large farms sit on rolling green hills lush with purple fruit that grows plentiful on tall trees. Anyone who made it out of Valnnin stayed out; by starvation or success. A part of you hoped your mother starved. There are worse fates in Valnnin than the Ozaki’s Tea House, though. Bred with a sharp wit and long cherry-red hair the Ozaki clan were well known all over Tartayla for their refined charisma and elegant beauty. Some of these traits were able to be passed on to the right young men and women making the courtesans of the Tea House the highest priced commodity in all of the three territories. Top earners are allowed to live in the lavish rooms on the top floor of the Tea House. The Ozaki house, a four-tier traditional home lit with gold paper lanterns and endless vines wrapped over a cobblestone bridge, sits across the Tea House. The watchful guardian for the inhabitants of the Tea House. Other than becoming part of a legacy family in Valnnin, like the Ozaki, the best living was at the top of the Tea House. Residing in the middle, for now, was comfortable enough. “___, dear you’re staring.’ Kouyou tuts, whacking your knee with her lace fan. When her fan is fully spread the gold filigree becomes a long winding dragon sifting through the clouds. A well-known symbol of the Ozaki clan. The dragon is imprinted throughout the Tea House and stamped on the inside of each girl’s wrist in gold ink. Ownership and protection, that is what they preached while poking your skin with a hot needle. “Is that potted ivy really that intriguing? It must be with how rude you’re being during our conversation.” Her long manicured nail brushes over your nose to draw your attention. Her touch instantaneously forces your shoulders to go rigid as your eyes drop to your lap. Kouyou’s sharp nails bite at your jawline. “Don’t be rude to our company tonight. Understood?” You nod, wincing a bit at her grip. Kouyou-san only showed this type of intensity with newer girls in order to hammer in the traditions of the Tea House. You, however, had been here for fifteen long years and knew every twist and turn. Your familiarity had risen to the point that you and the other girls made wages on some of the staff’s mood based on an eyebrow quirk or tense knuckle. For the most part, you won each round. Kouyou-san did insist your looks and keen eye made for a high commodity, however, the blessings around your features were not as god-like as some of the girls. You were sure they came from a line of Queens and Goddesses long before humanity stomped over the grasslands. “Kouyou-san, I don’t understand why you won’t inform me who I am waiting for.” You shift uncomfortably in your silk robe. The pillow beneath your knees had become a hardened lump of clay that was sure to leave bruises. “Using the gold room is above my station.” “It is.” Kouyou agrees without an ounce of hesitation. If you were allowed to show your true emotions a dark frown laden with knitted brows would be reflecting back at Kouyou. Tea house manners forbade any type of backtalk, verbal or otherwise, toward the ladies of the house. It had been a long time since your feet had been whipped into a bloody mess due to your expressions. “You should be thankful a man of high caliber is interested in your company.” You exhale through your nose and adjust the pillow subtly just for something to grab and ease the tension rising up your spine. The golden room was incredibly expensive and reserved for foreign clientele or a man rich enough to buy the country twice over. What you could gather from the maids who set the room was scarcely what you could consider good information but their gossiping mouths let out that the changes were due to the man’s incredibly specific taste. Instead of immaculate gaudy golden candles, simple paper lanterns were hung in shades of red that bounced off the polished wood walls. The marble table had been replaced with a smaller traditional one stacked high with poker chips and two crystal glasses. A bottle of imported whisky more expensive than the entirety of Valnnin had been staring back at you for the better part of an hour. Jewels from all over the country were heaped into woven baskets spilling out their glittering gemstones of blues, pinks, reds, and purples. One stone looked as big as your palm. Within the baskets, bracelets, and necklaces sparkle and hang over the rim like a used handkerchief tossed in the garbage. Money can’t buy taste, you think to yourself, though you wouldn’t mind pocketing some of those jewels to sell later. Abruptly the double doors open and the lanterns are snuffed out. Above your head dangles an imported odd-shaped light with arms extending outwards holding each white candle as if it were trying to scorch the walls. Kouyou stands to greet the unknown guest. Gliding across the wooden floor as a swan crosses a lake. You remain perfectly poised. Long red dress stretching out your arms to pool against your thighs. The Tea House provided silk garments for expensive clients that showed skin without being over-zealous. A strong dip in the back revealing your spine for wandering fingers. Bare shoulders for teeth to graze and tease. Your lips had been painted deep red to accentuate a pout worthy of a diamond necklace. Beyond Kouyou’s tall stance you barely make out the rough edges of a man much taller than Kouyou. “Enjoy your time, sir. Please, let me know if I can do anything to be more accommodating.” Kouyou’s bow is deep and longer than usual. The man doesn’t bow back. The guards that had accompanied him to the golden room remain on the other side of the screen door once it’s closed, another uncommon occurrence. You get to your feet and walk towards the man in the same manner Kouyou did. You’d done this a hundred times. A thousand. Something high up, but there was an odd sensation growing in the pit of your stomach. Circling the pit of your belly like a serpent through the grass. “Good evening. Who do I have the pleasure of spending time with? I’m afraid my tongue has gone numb in excitement.” The man chuckles and takes a step forward; you take in his form with a simple blink. His hair is an unruly slue of dark browns overlapping each other held back by a deep ruby pin, an odd style but the capital tended to couple foreign fashion with traditional garments. The stranger is incredibly tall, thin, wearing traditional Tartayla clothing though the crest on his lapel doesn’t ring a bell. It did not mirror the crests members of the court wore nor the men stationed beneath them. Scribes, military, footmen, all members of the palace wore crests revealing their status to the world. A palace aid, even, would be able to afford the golden room for a night. “That’s a lie.” He takes another few steps towards you. Swift. His long legs easily bring him close enough for you to smell his cologne. Expensive and foreign. “I specifically told Ozaki not to speak my name. A clever way to ask without asking.” You blink rapidly but hold your ground, folding your hands politely in front of your thighs. His stare is honey lined with liquid gold. “As expected of a woman raised in the Tea House.” “I did not want to seem ill-prepared.” You finally answer, “It is uncommon to not know the name of my companion prior to meeting.” Nicknames--you roll through the most requested, but none of them fit. He bends a bit, you expect a hand on your cheek or your chin; he grips your throat. Contracting your airways with an eerily gentle touch. “You can address me as Dazai, nothing else.” His gaze remains ice cold. Something about the name bubbles up and up until your mouth unintentionally drops open just enough to let out a silent gasp. Prince Dazai. If he would let go of your chin you could bow to him but he anchors himself to the ground. “Ah, there it is. I can let go that you did not recognize me considering we let the territories exist as an extension. Not much royalty passing through here? What a scandal~”. He releases your jaw and walks over to the table in the center of the room. Out of instinct, you follow behind with your head bowed just slightly. What would the prince be doing here? You presumed when royal blood desired the flesh of someone else other than their betrothed they found it easily among the many women of the court. “Dazai, what is it you desire tonight?” Common phrases of your trade finally return once your tongue has melted off the shock. “Business.” He states, taking a seat on the plush pillows. “Come, and don’t speak unless I ask you a question.” Dazai pats his hand on his lap as he speaks. You follow his command and walk yourself to his lap. The scent of him is overwhelmingly pleasing in comparison to the other men that have requested this position. With your back against his chest, you can feel the ruffle of fabric on your bare skin from his vest, it’s an interesting sensation. You’d never felt this type of material before. “Now,” Dazai starts voice a rich smoky tenor, “you will come with me to the capital and sit just like this. You won’t speak, you won’t move, you won’t do a thing except look as you do now.” He drags his knuckles down your spine. “All you need to know is that. What lies in this room,” he lazily gestures to the jewels in the collapsing baskets, “will be your payment.” All you can do is nod dumbly. What the hell did he want you at the capital for? To be a lap ornament? What a strange request. You want to say no, to tell him you’re much more than a porcelain doll to play with. Your wit and charm has made you the favorite of so many men of his own court. Dazai presses his nose to the curve between your throat and shoulder. “You may ask one question but make it quick, I dislike having to ride home during the day.” Dazai gave you information without giving you detail. The bare-bones without an explanation or purpose, but he was the prince. You couldn’t pester him for more like your regulars who gave vague requests--of which you denied regardless of what it was. Taking a courtesan out of the Tea House was strictly forbidden. There was no amount that would interest the Ozaki women to allow their charges to leave the premises with a client. Every person had their price, though, it should have been obvious considering your line of work. “Am I to be a lap ornament for your entertainment or to prove a point to another person?” Dazai pauses his hand on your spine. For a moment your heart freezes--until he begins to laugh. Harmonious and cheerful, it almost sounds sweet but the tingle in your spine tells you otherwise. “Both,” Dazai places his hand on your thigh giving the soft flesh a tight squeeze, “but the latter. I don’t find very much of this world entertaining in the slightest.” Abruptly his teeth graze the shell of your ear as his hand wanders beneath your silk dress finding the edge of your hipbone. “This is just to waste time.” __________________________ Jealousy was not something prince Dazai experienced. However, the man across from you seemed to be dripping green with it. You vaguely recognized him, a court-appointed general from the land across the sea. The name escaped you, anytime he appeared at the Tea House for your attention his words sank to the bottom of your consciousness. His conversation was as dull and his hands were fat with sausage-like fingers that didn’t know how to properly undo the knots that held your dress together at the side. He never had enough money other than to converse for twenty minutes and stare at your nude body. Prior to the meeting, Dazai had walked you through the main courtyard filled lined with enormous evergreen trees and rose bushes taller than your shoulders. Members of the royal court bowed and held their tongues as you passed. Your clothing served as a clear indicator of your position in the Tea House. Dazai had made it a point to dress you in the most elegant outfit the Tea House allowed. Draped in gold and black with hints of deep scarlet beneath the split up your thigh. The palace was, unsurprisingly, massive in size and stature. Getting lost for hours within its corridors and monumental rooms seemed inevitable. Had Dazai let you wander from his side. “Do not speak or move without my permission.” His only warning punctuated with a sharp slap to your ass. While the meeting went on Dazai’s hands grew increasingly curious in tandem with his ever-rising boredom. Beneath the table, his fingers roamed between your legs never touching where you wanted. They drew teasing circles just outside your lower lips. Dug crescents into the meat of your inner thighs. The longer the meeting went on the higher his hands reached. Inside the deep cut of your dress to squeeze your breast while he spoke about the outcome of a fictional war the general had threatened, apparently. Something about trade prices rising. Anything happening beyond Dazai’s grip wasn’t sticking to your psyche. By the time the meeting was finished sweat was beading down the back of your neck. Your cheeks had grown hot to the touch and your clit was aching for touch. Dazai simply stood expecting you to catch yourself. “You will not be returning to the Tea House.” It was all he said before two guards escorted you down a long corridor lined with paintings of the royal bloodline. ___________________________________ The first time he fucked you the moon had appeared in splendor. Bright and bold against dark skies empty of stares and clouds. His wife had requested him to come to bed early. Her long dark hair falling in gentle curls illuminated by the candelabra she held in her fist. You watched from the corner of his study as Dazai used that talented tongue of his to herd her back to bed. Once the door was shut and locked with a metal key Dazai bent you over his desk and fucked you deep and slow. He left bite marks on your neck and laughed when you begged so pathetically to cum around his cock. At first, there was nothing inside him. No emotion to his touch and no passion beyond the carnal desire to fuck you when he needed release. His wife would often stare at you when you passed in the corridors trying to find some sort of entertainment. You had heard nothing of your position at the palace nor had anyone questioned your existence there. Dazai demanded you stay within his sights at all times and would punish you with hard slaps to your bare ass when you wandered too far. He was the softest after he left a red handprint on your behind. He’d cradle you in his arms and call you pretty things like a lover would. It only served to deepen your confusion in both your own feelings for him and what he wanted out of your existence in his life. _______________________________________ The queen’s illness came on rapidly and without a cause. She was pale with a fever and sickly looking. Her skin stretched over the bones of her face and her eyes looked glass. Nothing the doctors were doing had made a difference. She existed on her large bed surrounded by basins of water and broth, her ladies in waiting rotated washing her and feeding her the best they could. She couldn’t move on her own accord except to speak in a low muddled voice. Dazai did not visit her often. After a week she had been moved to her own room down two corridors and across from the King’s quarters. The bed was burned and the room scrubbed clean until it glistened. Dazai didn’t ask, he never did. When your room turned up empty you knew to find him in his quarters. His long legs propped up on the ottoman beside the window, fingers over his favorite book gifted by a friend long gone from this world. His touch had become gentle in the past few weeks. You presumed, at first, it was due to his grieving and perhaps guilt for the affair. Yet he did not change the frequency in which he kissed you, fucked you, held you against his chest for a few minutes before he eventually left the bed to finish whatever work he’d thrown across the floor when he grew too aggravated or bored. Nights he wanted to fall off the edge of the world he tied your hands to the bed and played with your body until sunrise. Dazai left his mark where he pleased. Nothing felt as good as his hands, his attention, his tongue. Rarely did he ever keep himself on top. No, he expected you to ride him. Make him cum while he watched you grow addicted to the feeling of his cock inside of you. ______________________ Dazai had to produce an heir, he said, one morning while you’d been eating breakfast at his side. His wife could not fulfill that duty while sick. You pause for a moment and set your glass down. Looking at him as the sun rises behind his head. “You know I can’t have children.” Part of the process of becoming part of the Tea House; everyone went through the procedure. “What do you plan to do?” Dazai wipes his mouth with a napkin. “What makes you believe I haven’t already finished what I planned to do?” He places his elbows on the table and folds his fingers beneath his chin. That same gaze from the day you met him in the golden room returning to douse you in something unsettling. You blink at him and lean back in your chair. “As long as the queen remains alive you are not able to marry another. You will be expected to wait to have a child with your wife when she is well again.” Dazai tilts his head. “I don’t want children.” He says nonchalantly. “Dazai..” What makes you believe I haven’t already finished what I planned to do? “Dazai.” His grin spreads wide, eyes darkening despite the light from the windows splashing halycon all over the room. “Eat up, _____. I’m growing bored.”

#dazai #dazai osamu #bsd #bungou stray dogs #dazai x reader #dazai fanfic #my writing dazai #fantasy au #dazai au #bsd fanfic #dazai is kind of a dick #what a surprise #dazai one shot

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tra-sh · 3 years

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Love’s Labors pt 3

Part three to my Ivar Ragnarson x reader series! Part four is here!

@youbloodymadgenius @red-roses-are-gonna-shine @angelofmysmalldeath

The library of King Ecbert's castle was, unsurprisingly, empty. Most of the inhabitants were either being trained for battle or standing guard around the Kings as they met. So, you found it to be the perfect hiding place when you felt the need to escape your tutor for the day. The chamber was in a calm and almost reflective state as if you were the first one to grace its halls in months. You gathered a small pile of books and scrolls that seemed the most interesting and made yourself a small nest on the ledge of a tall window. You'd purposefully tucked yourself away in the back of the library in the case that someone came looking for you. Though not many had caught onto your tricks, you knew Judith was smart and would most likely search for you here if she discovered you went missing.

You sift through your pile, settling for a written book on medicinal plants. At least this one was illustrated.

You settle into your spot as comfortably as you can and immerse yourself in reading. Though you were much more content to wander around the castle and cause mischief, you knew your father was especially on edge today. You'd overheard the maids gossiping about King Aelle's mistrust of Ragnar and knew if he caught you in your usual antics, you would be banished from seeing Judith and Alfred for the next month.

The warm breeze coming from the window coupled with the book in your hands was enough to lull you to sleep, and you surely would have, were it not for the figure leaning against the dimly lit bookshelf across from you. You sit upright, blinking to let your eyes adjust. "Ivar?" You ask quietly. "What are you doing here?"

Ivar shuffles forward with the help of his crutches, into the sunlight where you could see him better. "Same as you, I suppose. Hiding," he says with an amused tone. You laugh, closing your book and scooting forward. "How did you know I was here?" Ivar shrugs, plopping down at a small wooden table across from you. "Lucky guess."

You rest your chin on your palm and observe the prince as he sets a book of his own on the wooden table. "I'm not sure why I am surprised to find you can read," you mock gently, biting your lip in anticipation of his response. Would he have a temper with you, as the rumors say?

Though Ivar's jaw sets and he throws a glare in your direction, he says nothing. You wonder for a moment if you've ruined the mood, and you press again. "I didn't mean anything by it. People talk, you know," you add. "People may talk, but it is up to you to listen," Ivar replies. You let out a small chuckle and look away. "Oh, dear. I'm afraid I haven't a response to that," you say quietly.

Ivar looks back to you with a brow raised. "You, not having a remark? I think I'm surprised." A loud laugh rips from your throat before you can stop it, and you lean back against the stone window frame behind you. "It does not happen often, so I cannot advise you to get used to it, Viking." Ivar's face betrays his amusement as he turns back to the book before him. "I imagine, Saxon, there are many things about you I will not get used to," he says quietly. You bite your lip in an attempt to stop yourself from smiling, but to no avail. The Viking prince does something to you that you have never experienced before, and it was thrilling.

You shuffle back into your spot, picking up your forgotten book. You flip through the pages absentmindedly and steal little glances here and there at the boy beside you. You allow your mind to wander and imagine what it would feel like to be courted by someone so fierce. Ivar was a mystery to you, so much like his father. When you'd heard of their arrival, you had expected two beastly men who did not speak a lick of English nor have any common decency. Admittedly, you were almost disappointed at how pleasantly normal they were. Perhaps your dad's stories of the Northmen were just that-- stories. Figures, you shouldn't have listened to the paranoid old man.

You glance over once more only to catch Ivar staring at you. You offer him a smile and lift your head. "Yes?" You ask, smug that you caught him looking. If Ivar notices the tone in your voice, he doesn't comment on it. Instead, he asks, "You and Alfred. Are you really betrothed?" Your face falls at the topic, and you turn your attention out the window and to the courtyard below. "We are," you start slowly. "It is more so in name. My father wants me out and tamed as soon as possible, and King Ecbert was looking for a queen for his Alfred. It was a supposed perfect match," you mutter. Ivar listens carefully, his eyes scanning over the words before him. "When would you marry?" He wondered. You sigh and slump down further against the wall. "Most likely when Alfred is crowned King. If my father had his way, I'm sure it would be far sooner." Ivar seems to consider your words for a moment. You lull your head to the side, eyeing the young man. "Why do you ask?"

He shrugs, his eyes not leaving the page. "Curious about Saxon affairs," he offers lamely. You sit upright and frown. "Is that all?" You wonder quietly. This time, it's Ivar who turns to you with a smug face. "Is that all you want it to be?"

A heavy silence blankets the library as the two of you stare at one another. Was there another reason? What were you hoping for? For Ivar to live up to the Viking rumors and kidnap you, hauling you off to some unknown land?

You're the first to break eye contact as you lean back into the wall. "I suppose so," you say softly.

You hear the creaking of wood and a shuffling sound, followed by the repeating tapping of Ivar's crutches meeting the stone floor. You turn your head in time to see Ivar towering over you, looking down to meet your gaze. "For someone who causes such trouble," Ivar begins, reaching out to grab a stray piece of your hair. "You are a terrible liar, princess." Your face feels hot and you splutter incoherently while Ivar chuckles. "I am not lying!" Your voice betrays you, rising above your normal pitch. Ivar gives you a knowing grin and you snap your mouth shut. His eyes flit back and forth from your own as if searching for something. "I am leaving tomorrow. Will you really not tell me the truth before I go?" Ivar asks finally. Your breath catches in your throat as you stare up at him. Does he leave tomorrow? But what about Ragnar? Your face must have betrayed your sorrow because Ivar's gaze softens as he looks at you. "What if I ask nicely?" He adds.

You can't help laughing at this and shake your head. "It wouldn't suit you, Ivar."

He stares at you and it brings back that strange feeling in the pit of your stomach that only he seems to cause. He reaches a hand out and grips your jaw experimentally as if examining you. He does not hold your chin as a lover would, but more like a farmer observing livestock. It sends a strange thrill up your spine, to be so fiercely scrutinized by someone like him. Something dark and mischievous flashes in his eyes as he looks at you. "Give me permission, princess," Ivar says in a low voice. It's so quiet that you almost don't register that he spoke. You swallow as your eyes search his. "For what?" Your response is barely above a whisper, you know your voice would betray you if you spoke up. You don't need his response. You're not so oblivious to what he wants, but the tumultuous side of you wanted him to say it out loud. To hear him say he desired you, in the same way you did him.

But Ivar is wise to your tricks and doesn't speak. His grip on your face lightens, and for a moment you're disappointed in thinking he's walking away. Suddenly, his thumb hooks your chin and drags you towards him, earning a small squeal of surprise from you. His mouth is hot over yours as he kisses you and it sends small tingles throughout your body. Your hands come up to grab fistfuls of his shirt, trying to pull him flush against you. One of his hands tangles in your hair, gripping and pushing you closer. You feel his free hand slide under your dress and grab your thigh, hooking your knee and dragging you forward so he's nestled between your thighs.

Your head spins as Ivar kisses you with such a passion as if this was the first and last time you would see each other. The thought bothered you, and you found yourself whining into the kiss. This seems to spur him on as Ivar lets out a low growl, nipping your bottom lip with his sharp teeth. Then he breaks away, ending the kiss just as quickly as it began. You lean after him lamely, mourning the sudden loss of his warmth. Ivar steps back and looks at you with such a savage look of pride on his face that you feel something curl in your stomach. "Until next time, princess."

His fingers trail across the frame of your face one last time before he drops his hand and starts to leave. "You would leave me here like this?" Your voice trembles as your eyes sting. He can't just leave you here like this, right? Ivar spares one last glance over his shoulder and rakes his eyes up and down your figure. "When I come back, you will not have to worry anymore."

And just like that, he leaves you sitting in the library alone as the sun sets behind you.

#ivar x reader #ivar imagine #ivar from vikings #ivar the boneless #ivar fanfic #ivar fanfiction #ivarxreader #ivar ragnarsson #ivar romance #no beta we die like men

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doctorslippery · 3 years

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Shea Longshanks – A human drug lord who has taken control of a wing of the prison and requires rent from others in his wing. He has a group of henchmen and acts as if he is a guard/warden.

Malcer Holden – A well-dressed half-elf necromancer who will not state why he is here. In return for information, he requires spoons, which he provides to his army of undead in hopes of digging his way out.

Zenbis Axor – A yellow dragonborn who will not speak to anyone she encounters. She possesses immense magical power but chooses to spend her days solitarily in her cell. Nobody knows the story behind her.

Durgar Steely – This dwarf holds an infinitely refilling beer glass and nobody in the prison has ever seen him sober. He is very friendly and can just about speak and walk normally.

Naroxius – The source of annoyance for much of the prison, Naroxius always manages to find a way to vandalize the prison. He has made clear that he will stop at nothing to escape, however all that he has managed to do is anger other inmates and staff. His current cell now consists of a wooden slab in the corner, after he fireballed his previous one

Argus Shatterhorn – A goliath and zealous follower of a crazed war god. He’s seemingly possesses an infinite trove of energy and vitality, laughing and preaching loudly despite being literally skewered to a wall in his cell. Nothing can shut him up short of magical silence, which he doesn’t seem to notice.

The Witch of Cretchreaver – A very polite sounding woman behind a foot of concrete and a metal door. She requests that you open the tiny hole so that she can get a look at you. She’s a medusa with her eyes pressed against the other side.

Slobfoot the Eloquent – An educated, well spoke goblin who tried to incite a political revolution. He gives a very deep, loquacious philosophical speech to the party.

Thaddeus Null – A blue dragonborn and self-proclaimed God. He doesn’t seem arrogant beside that, just comfortable and quiet. His followers are magically capable, morally bankrupt people who are trying to break him out as they speak.

The Rat – A wood elf who ratted out his bandit gangmates. Can’t be trusted, would sell their own brother for half a smoke. Nonetheless, they keep their eyes and ears open and know a lot about what’s happening in the prison.

Randy Shackleford- human, assailed a government agent with sand and authorities now cannot find his name on any records.

The Smuggler – A male gnome. He is the prison supplier who can find almost anything and smuggle it in the prison in exchange for the prison’s currency (smokes, food, etc.)

Daloriz – A blind vampire who overcame his sunlight sensitivity. He has blindsense, and his power is to the point where he can overwhelm most enemies. When spoken to, he is polite and mentions he has seen the future and knows he must wait here for the right time. Why is this vampire in prison? What is he waiting for? Who is coming? Up to the DM to decide.

Takaar ‘Two shields’ Alzurini – small time dwarf mob boss locked up for extortion and racketeering. He has boys on the outside planning to break him out.

Voracious Veronica – A cannibalistic human who is soft spoken. She claims she was a knight who resorted to ‘the worst sin of all’ when her position was under siege for months. Her skin is pale, her eyes are dull, and her gaze sends shivers up your spine. You’re almost certain she’s lying.

Gregor Brutalous – An imposing half-giant with jet black braided hair, dressed in clean formal clothing. He was a psychotic and incredibly powerful warlord, but years after his arrest insists he is trying to atone for his actions. He can easily escape (or so he claims) but refuses to leave as penance.

Marros Tarmikos – A merchant who was caught up in a bar fight with some religious fanatics. He knows a few secrets about the prison and seems to be a law-abiding citizen for the most part.

Gorgeous Gnurl – An orc pit fighter that lost his champion title to *insert NPC* and in a violent rage murders him and his entire team right there in front of the entire crowd.

Mordekai – Leader of a gang of wererats, he used his rats or ‘little friends’ to spy on people, and to blackmail them, or to sell their secrets to the highest buyer.

Torun Sacanti – This ex-palace guard was thrown in prison after he gave his friend a tour of the duke’s apartments. When asked why he is in prison, he will do whatever he can to distract the party from the question.

Tharon Ash – A Tiefling man who was kidnapped for a part in an infernal ritual but was arrested along with the cult when city guards caught them all. He will do anything short of murder to prove his innocence or escape.

Resh – This culinary master in orcish cuisine can barely speak a few sentences in common. Employed in the kitchen, he is known to sometimes get rowdy and confiscate the fingers of anyone who looks at him the wrong way.

Myrca Faro – Quiet and keeps to herself. She seems capable in many skills, decent in a fight, but is distant, mumbling to herself often, though what she’s saying can’t be heard. She was caught with her crew, but one of them testified against her. She doesn’t seem keen on reuniting since she doesn’t know who.

The Painted Claw – A charismatic rakshasa who enjoys gaining followers and leading them into a suicide pact. He is sending souls back to his master in the nine hells and he has been captured for now…

Habstrek the Painter – A former cart driver turned serial killer, she’s not getting out any time soon; she was captured during a time referred to in the local lore as ‘the summer of art’, in which she killed and drained the bodies of over twenty prison guards’ family members, apparently out of revenge for their extrajudicial killing of her apparently innocent husband, Algnir Half-Tusk. She’s fed via a wand charged with Create Food and Drink, as her cell door is welded shut. Guards hate her above almost all other prisoners, knowing she’d gladly turn her targets into further ‘paintings’.

Elgin Powell – charged with a dozen counts of kidnapping, he was a local mob boss’ favorite enforcer – with no bodies ever discovered, the families of his victims were denied even the peace of knowing that they were able to be contacted via necromancy. Reportedly, he kept his charges in a deep mine and they are, one and all, still alive, just shielded from scrying and blood legacy magic. Knows more about kidnappings than anyone local is likely to have ever considered.

Jimmy ‘Lumberjack’ Jackson – Woodcutter turned assassin. He was brutal, honest, and captured by the palace guards when they asked him to start signing his work; reportedly, he’s still working from inside of the prison, except his rates are infinitely more affordable. His signature weapon remains undiscovered – which is a neat trick, considering that it’s a massive war axe.

Anna – Kept in a dark room and bound with magic sigils, Anna is a deeply motivated, highly disturbed wandering killer, captured after a five-year hunt by professional adventurers; her modus operandi was to disguise herself as an orphan human child, infiltrate colonial outposts, and then systematically destroy food, water, and medical supplies, forcing the pioneers into madness, murder, and cannibalism. Rumors say that she’s responsible for the failure of two nation-states’ failure to expand their territories. She’s boasted she’d gladly take one another job, if freed.

Rankle the Bookkeeper – A master of puppeteering and palace intrigue, he went from entertainer to information broker in under a year; his spies consist of handmade puppets, each one capable of recording sights and sounds, he extorted vast amounts of funding from select projects and missions, lining his own pocket freely until he was captured under what many consider unusual circumstances. Some say that he did so to protect himself from the palace paladins and clergy, all of whom are above harming prisoners.

Coins and Pouch – Master forgers and loan sharks, these two brothers are a regular feature in the prison yard, dealing out loans with reasonable interest rates and obtaining rarities for other prisoners; it’s said that on the day they were brought into the prison, they presented a set of keys to a well-appointed cottage to the chief guard as a token of their appreciation. Ever since, they’re under protection and weekly payments continue to provide them with many creature comforts. Every year, on the anniversary of their incarceration, the guard that treats them the best receives a key to another cottage.

Aldac – Former adventurer, expedition guide, reformed arsonist, and now a leader of a prison yard ‘exercise group’, this monk is a dangerous person; some say that she’s building an army, others that it’s a cult, and nobody wants to test her in a straight fight since she crippled her last opponent in under ten seconds. Anything that requires focus and determination, she’s happy to offer her thoughts on, free of charge – provided that she’s shown proper respect first. Her sentence is for a triple life duration – tough luck for her, as her species is a long-lived one.

Thack – A monstrous human, he was a warlord by age fifteen, a respected bandit king at twenty, and captured during his attempt to seize the capital itself, turned over by his own command structure in exchange for lenient sentencing for war crimes. Passionate, charismatic, and mysteriously possessing a keen ear for music, he’s an example of what can happen to a Bard if they decide to turn war itself into a performance art. He’s making money through the writing of strategic, tactical and logistic guidebooks, periodically singing for the lost days of his misspent youth. He turns twenty-three in a month.

Rejoice-Cried-The-Kraken – Still living her best life, RJCTK is a priestess first, bandit second, and a model prisoner third, choosing to ignore her history of piracy and looting in exchange for running a small group of like-minded believers in the church she’s built in her cell; she served as a first officer on the flagship of a vast pirate fleet, choosing who lived and who was sacrificed to her deity, often by slow drowning or something that officials referred to as ‘hook dancing’. She makes a few extra coins giving nautical theme tattoos for fellow prisoners, each one a work of art worthy of a church’s stained-glass windows.

Prisoner #644 – Captured at the frontier, whatever it is, it’s only eaten six times in ten years, each time it was an unwary guard who strayed too close to the sealed cage covered in a thick burlap sheet. It hums at night, an eerie, unsettling event taking place only just before the onset of riots, uprisings, and acts of revenge on a wide scale inside of the prison. Recently, guards have reported that it has started to sing softly. Each of the Dead prisoners killed in the previous ten years are named, one by one, and it chuckled wetly when younger guards approach it.

Kishi the Kid – A 16-year-old changeling who attempted to steal the Crown Jewels. He’s stuck in solitary after using the persona of a guard to start a riot, and is well known for the many he’s started in the few months he’s been here

Cold Turquoise – The former cult leader of a Dragonborn pirate fleet. Will only talk in Draconian, and will give advice on how to operate a ship at a cost…

Henri Schum – Halfling Mafia-don. Used his resources and cutthroat approach to fund a smuggling operation on rare animals for collectors. Has 2 fingers missing on his left hand and has his ‘buddies’ rough up any new people who mention them.

Zarakos – Super beefy winged Tiefling. Brought in for attempting to rob a local bank and fly off with the loot, not accounting for the wizards that can cast Fly. Wings are always tied for obvious reasons. Not very smart, but very loyal. If you free his wings, he will follow you and your group until the end. Will carry and fly anyone that needs it

Kimnuan Shadestalker – Black kitsune assassin. She and her bard troupe would spread rumors about people so others would order hits on them. Specifically in for burning down a village after getting caught by the local authorities. If she can get access to her hands, she can summon a lute and cast spells to become invisible/incorporeal.

Binks Falkhorn- A scribe for 2 generations of very powerful wizards. Has not shown any criminal intent but is ordered to be imprisoned in solitary indefinitely after the wizard went mad and went on a killing spree, showing horrible power. His scribe is the last shred of evidence of the wizard’s work. It would be too dangerous to let the scribe roam free, but it would be foolish to kill him in case his knowledge became useful

Sparkler- A nine-year-old bronze half dragon who just wants to go home to her older brother. She was framed for a crime that she in no way could have committed. She is kept in a dark cell and is the favorite to be abused by the head guard. No knows her actual name because she rarely talks to anyone even when she is allowed.

Xnyxyh Halfheart – Channeling Chronurgy wizard without his spell book. He looks human and is locked up for various crimes. He will help anyone who can get him his spell book. However, if he gets it, he will finish becoming a lich. He does not care for anyone but himself.

Thornbull – an experimental warforged, who committed too many war crimes.

Thragg Jadewolf – half-orc spy. He looks like an ugly human. He is in prison for high treason. He infiltrated border settlements and opened the gates at night, sabotaged the defenses, etc., so the neighboring orc kingdom could conquer the settlements easily.

The masked man – this human wears a cursed mask, which he cannot take off. His crime: He is the elder brother of the current king.

The Wyrd Sisters – Three halfling sisters each identical except for different colored eyes, the Wyrd Sisters are prohibited from accessing the kitchen and mess halls, kept in solitary confinement from each other, and fed separately. This is due to their innate toxicity, their blood, saliva, and sweat producing an extremely toxic poison which when ingested, causes a terrifying and agonizing death in even small doses. They were arrested after their entire village was found rotting the next morning after drinking from the tainted well which they had poisoned. Rumors persist that their natural lethality came from a tradeoff with a powerful Demon.

Semaj Ironscreamer – An elderly Half-Orc Druid who has spent half his life in this cell. He was jailed after being involved in multiple eco-terrorist attacks on mining towns that had been dumping their industrial waste into the nearby rivers. Seen as a kindly grandfather figure by the other inmates and even some of the guards, Semaj is often the peacekeeper between those he can hear from his cell and dispenses wisdom to those who ask. Given the nature of his magic, Semaj is kept in an underground cell with no window and any visitors he receives will be checked for wooden objects and plant matter.

Azar – A former acolyte of the church who used his talents as a thief to steal back religious artifacts from wealthy aristocrats. Until one day he was set up by the Queen dowager to make it look like he was trying to assassinate her with the same knife she had killed her husband with. Is actually completely innocent of this particular crime, but with the weight of the crown bearing down on him his trial was anything but fair.

Vulmon Longroot – A 900-year-old High Elven Bard who was the very first prisoner ever put into this place. His crime? 800 years ago, he had been caught having an affair with all 11 princesses of the area and is actually the reason every member of the royal family has any access to magic.

Tybo the Mad Monk – An incredibly dangerous and violent martial artist who was known to wear the ears of his enemies that he killed in battle like a necklace. After a failed assassination attempt by one of his party members caused Tybo to go mad and kill his party, the Human Monk returned to his roots raiding ships along the coast before he was eventually captured and placed in prison.

Irving – he was just an ordinary peasant… until adventurers showed up in his life and destroyed it. After that he has dedicated his life to destroying them.

Dean Fisher – human. Scum landlord to good upstanding goblins. forgot to bribe a local official.

Greta Howitzer- A human horizon walker ranger who was once a famed demon hunter. But while hunting members of the cult of Baphomet, she lost her mind in Baphomet’s lair. She has the madness ‘The world is my hunting ground. Others are my prey.’ She now views all humanoids as demons and will go to any length to hunt them down. She was imprisoned after spending her money building a massive maze, kidnapping people, and hunting them down in the maze.

Dominic Halfcastle – Halfling, originally in jail for tax evasion, now known for being transferred due to the murder and consumption of multiple sentients, claims the ability to kill sentients with his mind, has displayed no actual psionic or magical power

Vestlev the Mad – War criminal of the highest order, he has been moved to a normal prison as a temporary holding place until a proper area is found. He looks old and disheveled but is a mastermind when it comes to the magical arts of evocation. From his cell can be heard incoherent babbling, but do not be fooled, he has escaped before.

Minkus the Feebleminded – Everyone knows it’s a mistake that he’s in the prison. He’s a real sweetheart if a bit soft in the head. Sometimes his cell glows at night though. Oh, and don’t let him tell you about his nightmares if he says you were in one…

Sir Jim Haggins – A true gentleman at heart, he wears his ragged suit proudly. He’s perfectly polite in every way. He doesn’t look kindly on the poor however, oh no. He detests the poor. So much so that his hunting lodge was full to the brim with human trophies when the authorities finally tracked down ‘the Slum-spree Killer’

Thiggund – This hairy brute is referred to by the only word he heads ever been known to utter. When the villagers of a small farming community found him by the road, surrounded by the brutalized remains of a merchant and his horses, Thiggund was arrested on the spot.

Unburned Barty – A slight man with an unassuming smile. He survived being burned at the stake without a single scar. He was moved into isolation after his cellmates kept killing themselves

Billy Pumpernickel – A gnome who is well known and loved in the prison, but actually committed a horrible crime. Everyone just goes with it, and other than the one horrible unforgivable thing, he’s just a pretty nice dude. Like ‘Hey, there’s Billy. Yeah, he mutilated a few kids, but only once. Nice guy.’ (Edit: This would just be hilarious when the players try to come to terms on how to treat him)

The Time Master – Real name, age, sex, & race unknown. (S)he exists 5 minutes in the future. The cell was locked, and an empty plate appeared with a note. The note had an explanation and instructions. ‘Please place a full plate inside the cell each time an empty plate is discovered. Failure to do so will create a paradox and subsequently release the prisoner.’

Elwe – An elf who walks through the corridors of the prison as if he was someone free, talks to the guards and other prisoners as they were friends. Says he is in prison due to stealing, is actually hiding from the king, who wants to kill him since he killed his father

Ozob – An old looking human with hair only on sides and a fire potion (Molotov) where his nose would be. Always angry. Whenever someone looks wrong at him, he says: you are so annoying I might sneeze.

Walks-Winding-Paths – A tabaxi shadow monk, she is kept in a fully lighted cell at all times, wearing glowing enchanted clothing. She is only fed by guards under a faerie fire spell, as otherwise they would cast a shadow which she could teleport into to escape. She will attempt to convince a party member to give her a cloak, bowl, or other object to block the light with.

Garth the Radiant – A paladin of the fallen angel Zariel. His guards are ordered to hit him every time they see him meditating or praying, as that would let him regain the spells, she grants him and summon his enchanted mace, Purity, to destroy his cell. If the party can bring him his weapon, or even give him ten minutes of peace, he will consider himself honor-bound to grant them a favor upon request. If their aims align with his, he might even fight alongside them.

Nibbles – Literally just a warlock cat.

Iydis Tyger-Eye – Former Guld Leader, she is high level Fighter and also a Were-Tiger. Killed the heads of other Were families, in an attempt to seize power and take control of the protection of the city, and its criminal underworld.

Rollins – Air School Elemental Wizard. Believes in Anarchy and Equality of all races. In jail for starting a revolution and killing the Queen.

Herman – Normal human who built Mythic Bracers of Shatter that are only attuned to him. Had used the Bracers to gain access and rob several small vaults. Then he was caught by an adventurer after going for heist to rob a merchant banker when he refused to harm others to escape with the goods. He refuses to teach/sell the knowledge of how to make the Bracers as he doesn’t want others to use it to harm someone.

Roscoe Tealeaf – A well-dressed halfling who smells of saffron. He brokers deals between prison factions. It’s no secret that he is trying to escape. He claims he was framed by a noble, or maybe arrested breaking into the noble’s vault. He’ll tell anyone who asks that the noble has a dangerous artifact. Roscoe is a lore bard that specializes in counter spell silence and general magic user shutdowns.

John ‘Musical Manipulator’ Green – Half-elf, in jail for making a whole court dance for hours on end to prove a philosophical point that the upper class will just do as they say to hold up appearances and are so comfortable in their wealth, they can watch it be taken away and redistributed.

Colin Green – human. John’s half-brother who supported him and helped with a second set up hands to pull off music. Tuomas Yurke – elf. the voice and magic behind all of this. Started to talk to John about these thoughts and with a few others began to flesh them out into a more concrete thought and into a sound. Loved by the low class, anticipated and loved by the upper class even though it is all a misunderstanding. The three of them are located at different corners and different levels of the prison so the music can’t come together and convince guards to open up cages. Mail comes from them from all over. 2 members of their group are still at large.

Vaelh’noo – Githyanki sorceress who once commanded a powerful fleet in the astral sea before she was captured in a botched raid. Her secret is that she allowed herself to be captured to escape the wrath of the lich queen, whom she plots to overthrow from the safety of her cell.

Quikiliar – A doppleganger (Rogue). Thrown into prison for impersonating a person of high authority, they’re known for frequently making their way into guard chambers by pretending to be one. They can get access to a lot of things if you ask for it, but almost always ask for some odd favor or trinket, usually personal, like a lock of hair or an image of someone loved.

Locke – Once a guard themselves, this warforged fighter was sent to jail after attacking someone due to a misinterpretation of their actions. Unfortunately, this was also another guard with good standing with the warden, who had them put in. They serve their time willingly but can be interrogated or otherwise convinced to disclose explicit info about the prison and its guard shifts and similar.

Breeze – An air genasi artificer, she was thrown into jail after selling several infused items for high prices and then the infusing a different item. Since then, she’s gotten in good favor with guards and other inmates by enchanting some magic items and plans to use these favors and connections to escape at some point.

Zaurok – A Goliath Barbarian, although he acts calm and meditates. Known for the rare outbursts, during which he flies into a rage after being provoked or possibly from being disturbed while meditating. The several escape attempts that’ve happened are from him simply breaking the jail bars. Since then, he’s been relocated to a cell made out of adamantine.

Slicer – Kenku cleric. Devoted to a god of trickery, they gained their name after a particular… Prank, on part of their god. Around the jail will often prank the various inmates but is also known to make distracting sounds at the guards at night. Likely to be able to convince with shiny objects to prank someone or create a distraction.

Color-of-Blood – An insane Tabaxi woman incarcerated for eviscerating several people. Can often be found singing quietly to herself songs usually about ‘meal preparation’. Is usually docile and doesn’t react to being talked to unless threatened which she may attack while loudly singing ’50 ways to skin a human.’

Reginald Mark – A mild mannered human male incarcerated for a chain of serial killings. He claims he’s possessed by a banshee, but no one believes him. His speech has a feminine undertone and his skin is cold to the touch. Those who threaten him are usually found in the morning choked to death with a horrifying look on their face.

Tee’vah – Tiefling rogue who doesn’t seem too upset to be there. If approached he will happily show off a copy of his wanted poster, listing crimes from arson to murder. Secretly a doppelgänger who is honestly just trying to provide for his family and have some fun. Can break out any time he wants.

The Dread Pirate Azuzula, Roger, and Primten – A Tiefling, an earth genasi, and an air genasi. Azuzula seems useless but the other two are competent sorcerers. Despite this they follow her words to the letter. In for piracy. Azuzula can’t spell and keeps ranting about her ship the Doom Squid. Will challenge people to fights.

Taryon Sandstone – A half-elf paladin who used to be a slave fighting in gladiator pits. After gaining his freedom, he vowed to fight for the freedom of other and became a powerful hero. After the tragic loss of a close friend, he went on an overzealous crusade against slavers, killing them and their family as well as anyone who had in any way helped them (ship captains, harbor employees, food/clothes/rope vendors, blacksmith, etc.)

Tilby Valenois – A gnome mage of sorts who has committed zero crimes besides somehow breaking into a maximum-security prison and… staying there? The security guards have tried to get him to leave numerous times but usually get charmed or subdued out of it magically. Nobody knows why the gnome wishes to be there, but he hasn’t been messing with the order of things much.

Adelai – A rather amicable young woman. Nobody knows for sure what she’s in for, but general consensus is that it involved a basilisk head and the water supply to a small town

Vass – A large orc man that was used as a phylactery for a lich. Vass has been hearing whispers of the lich in his mind and is slowly being possessed. He has started doing horrible things under the influence of the lich. Performing Magic’s that he has no right to know.

Endeer – A being that inflicts his victims with horrible nightmares in each of these nightmares a horrifying creature appears to the dreamer and offers them the opportunity to “Loose yourself from the chains of your labored slumber” if the dreamer accepts, they never sleep again as their mind descends in to horrible madness

Cultists of the Basilisk – These cultists are attempting to create the creature they worship a terrible all-knowing basilisk they know that they will be successful and that the basilisk will destroy anyone who knew about him and didn’t help create him so they only share their beliefs with those they deem helpful or worthy of death

Arnold Long – A half orc/elf, he looks like a giant of a human and seems pleasant to be around in a group of people. While it appears, he is a big stupid sweet teddy bear of a person, his record is full of brutal killings that may or may not have happened. The last killings were not too long ago after a prison gang isolated Arnold in the showers and bribed a guard to not interfere. Long story short, the gang WAS major player in the prison, now all of its muscle IS dead, and the guard went missing. Arnold is to be handled with care and kindness.

The ‘Statue of The Maiden’ – It looks like a statue of a naked elven woman that was bought by a merchant (deceased) from an artist (deceased) who sold it to a noble (deceased) for a gift to his wife (deceased) and children (deceased). All that is known is the statue moves when not observed and will eat and clean itself. It leaves flirtatious messages for the guards it likes and death threats to the guards it hates. The artist swore on their deathbed it was a mistake for them to create it but, this is the only place it has been stored where it does not kill thought it has maimed a few people who fail to respect it. Attempts to remove, destroy, or study it has been ‘unfruitful and unwise’.

Inspector Brundt – A beardless dwarf imprisoned for the crimes of tax evasion, swindling, theft, and gross debt. He knows how to get things and bribes the guards to get luxuries and messages through the prison walls.

Tur the Kobold – He seems stupid and harmless. Everyone assumes he’s just a patsy who took the fall for a bigger criminal. Occasionally, though, he lets something slip that only someone high-level in a criminal organization would know.

Axe Hands – A warforged barbarian who found great success as a military shock trooper, but also was involved in an incident where he dismembered a commanding officer. Sees prison as an ‘extended furlough” and is convinced he’ll be let out when the next war starts.

Clara – A human paladin. Recruited into the military, she was driven mad by the trauma of war and turned oathbreaker. Jailed for the same incident as Axe Hands, having used her healing abilities to keep their victim from bleeding out after being dismembered. Lives to see people suffer but remembers enough of her pre-oathbreaker life to maintain a kind, innocent facade when it suits her.

Harald Silverfinger – An elf wizard who sees humans the same way a scientist sees a bucket full of white rats; testing fodder. They’re close enough to elves to be useful for experimentation, but short-lived enough that killing them really isn’t a big deal. It’s rumored that the local guild is secretly helping him continue his work, using his fellow prisoners as test fodder.

Verdos – A dwarven female cleric. Believes she was morally just in murdering the children of a local village. Full of righteous anger. Judges everybody according to her own warped and insane moral code. Can often barely be understood. In maximum security for obvious reasons. Can offer a range of cleric services at prison prices.

Tabitha Binks – A Tabaxi Rogue. An orphan growing up on the coast, she quickly fell in with the Revelry pirates. Tabitha learned to use her claws as lockpicks and may teach other Tabaxi how to as well. She was caught at sea after ambushing a wealthy fur trader.

James the Changeling – A male changeling known for impersonating the guides and has so far escaped every prison he’s been in. He’s a new inmate already planning his escape.

??? – the cell appears empty, save for a stool. Could be they’re just using it for storage. But, then why does that stool make the hairs on the back of your neck stand up?

Ood – A very old, frail and nearly paralyzed Illithid who sits still in solitary confinement, his blind eyes wide open, and only blinks or changes his position once or twice per year. Said to have messed something up when attempting to become an Alhoon. Nobody knows why he’s there, but he occasionally sends nearly unintelligible telepathic riddles to the other prisoners. Rumor has it he has invaded the minds of everyone in the prison and lives vicariously through their dreams at night.

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