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tiredmamaissy · 11 months

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Ralak te Sepwan ieyk’itan: Special Episode I

Ralak’s First Rut

An Illustrated Collaboration with @zestys-stuff

Masterlist ; Rut/Heat/Knotting Info

🔞 minors, do not interact 🔞

Hyperlinks are attached to specific paragraphs that when clicked on will lead you to its illustration by Ralak's creator @zestys-stuff.

Characters: Metkayina!Ralak (24)/(18) x Sully!Omaticaya!Reader (19)

Warnings: nsfw, smut, fluff, profanity, age gap, rut cycle, knot play, praise kink, breeding kink, p in v, mating/bonding, knotting, multiple cumshots, creampie, let me know if I forgot anything?

Word Count: ??

Requested: Yes || No

Author’s Note: Cheers to the first special episode :) This is literally a mindfuck so bare with me! 🤍🤍

Synopsis: after mating with ralak, you settle into your new home. During some quality time together, you pop a rather… interesting question.

<;- Previous Next ->

It’s barely been a week since you’ve properly moved into Ralak’s marui pod. It’s big and spacious, perfect for two – or more – na’vi. Comfortable and cosy, built by your mate’s two hands, with his future mate and family in mind. It’s beautiful, truly. But it needed a bit more... love. Something Ralak likes to say that you would provide with ease.

Taught from a young age, a man must provide and protect his mate and their family. Wise elders engrained the truth within his being since it came into consciousness – the truth that a woman wields the power of creation. The ability to create something out of nothing and make anything tenfold better.

A house into a home. Fresh game into dinner. Seed into life.

It’s from this point of his life, that he craved a mate to provide for, to create the dreamlife he yearned to live. To give everything he had to that na’vi and watch it flourish.

And he’s finally found you.

—

Five nimble fingers work away at the woven trinkets you plan to garnish the bent wooden frame of your marui with. Slender digits quicken as they tuck the coruscant shells into the twine, pulling it taut as you double knot it. It’s the one thing you taught him, the Omaticaya are known for their skilled weaving and sewing techniques - passed down by the ancestors themselves.

He watches intently, brows twitching as he tries to follow your movements with his own thickset fingers. He’s always had a hard time with this sort of task, often resorting to the lengthy wooden needle and thinly twisted twine to fasten whatever you needed him to. He heaves a heavy sigh, letting his frustration get the best of him as he grabs the wooden needle.

Breaking his façade of indifference.

It’s silly really. You’re mated before Eywa herself, sitting together as you weave and see in your shared marui, and yet he still feels the need to express as little emotion as na’vi-ly possible. You look up to see his nose scrunch and lips pull together, the same face he made when you fell off your ilu for the tenth time. The memory has you giggling before you become aware of the sounds coming from your mouth.

It earns you a pair of beady eyes, drilling into your innermost being. It’s good to know that the teasing hasn’t stopped, even after marriage. Your giggle increases in bass, quickly turning into a chuckle. It’s infectious, spreading to his own lips to make them curl in the slightest way possible, just enough to make him look down at the way his fingers fiddle to thread the eye of the needle.

Blood rushes to his face, staining it a tinge of pink. His flushed cheeks and flustered appearance have the gears in your head grinding twice as hard, fabricating images of what he’d look like in his most primal state. All hot and heavy, chest heaving harshly from how hard he’s breathing. Is it this? Is this what he looks like when he’s in –

“Ma’ Lak.” The words slide off your tongue like nectar, sweet and thick with arousal. It urges him to look away from his task, gaze slowly trailing up your petite, dark blue body.

“…What was your first rut like?” You ask innocently.

Ralak cocks a brow, quickly dropping his head once more to hide his growing smirk. He happily puts down the needle, unfazed by your out-the-blue question and shuffles to his feet whilst offering his hand. Dainty fingers wrap around his wrist, holding on tightly as he pulls you to your feet and walks you over to the bed. He reaches behind him, gripping the base of his kuru to stroke its length and bring it over his shoulder.

“Why don’t I show you?” Ralak asks, exposing his dancing tendrils before your eyes.

Of course, the man of few words would prefer to show you rather than tell you. Not that you were complaining or anything. He’s choosing to let you in, to show you one of the most intimate moments of his life. A moment where he was most vulnerable.

You nod, quickly pulling your queue forth, revealing your dancing tendrils too. Hues of glowing lilac illuminate the space between you. Amber and azure orbs twinkle as they watch the tendrils find one another, intertwining as they come together with a quick tug. Your head flies back, pupils blowing until nothing but thin amber rings remain, breath hitching whilst your bodies synchronize entirely.

Your vision blurs until all you can see is white, and the high-pitched ringing noise in your ears drowns out the sounds of the waves crashing into the shore. Soon, you’re no longer in your marui, as the white fades out into various shades of grey. The ringing dissipates into a low, husky voice, reverberating in the background.

My tanhì. Are you there?

You can see beige and grey blobs, splitting into two and drifting apart. You can hear faint indistinguishable echoes, something like a cry, or a whine. Cool water splashes at your feet, making you rub your eyes to unblur your vision. You open your eyes, witnessing the blobs merge together and unblur into large-rocks, and pointed stalagmites.

Our cave?

You hear the faint, breathy chuckle of your mate. Yes. Our cave. I was... frightened. Came here to cool down with a bath. See?

An invisible hand gently tugs at your chin, pulling your head to the left. You see young Ralak, short haired and bare skinned, leaning against the cave wall. His ears are tucked back, lying flat against his skull as a few strands of hair dangle in front of his face, beet-red with beads of sweat dripping down his temples. The droplets crash onto his bare chest which is heaving wildly from his laboured breathing.

His less sinewy body shudders, face contorting from pain and discomfort as his shaky hands glide down his stomach to find purchase on the band of his loincloth. Hooking his thumbs underneath the twine, he shimmies it down his thighs, revealing his naked pelvis. It’s strange seeing his unscarred, uncalloused skin, bare without charcoal inking.

Huffing and puffing, he stomps his feet to unplaster the sopping cloth stuck to his thighs. A gruff grunt of frustration vibrates in his throat, hands flying to the base of his tail to extricate himself from the constraints of his taut tewng [loincloth]. He’s struggling. Floundering around as if he wanted to step out his own skin.

Your heart sinks at the sight. You want to help him. Make the pain go away. You know it all too well. To feel out of control and confused, dazed, and flustered from the actual heat brewing in your core. But all you can do is watch him from a far as he squirms against the cave wall, panic-stricken eyes growing lidded and heavy.

I had a hard time understanding what was happening. Much like you.

Young Ralak finally unfetters the knot, loincloth unpeeling from his clammy skin. He sighs a breath of relief. Finally free from his restraints, his painfully hard cock springs up, veiny and throbbing from his intense arousal. It’s almost red, mushroomy tip bulging and swollen with a thick, lengthy string of glossy precum leaking from his slit. It hangs freely in the air, swinging side to side as his cock jumps to the pulse of his heart. The swaying rope of slick finally catches along his length and begins to drip down to his – oh?

Is that your –

My knot. I was surprised to see it, too.

It’s huge. This is the first time that you’re seeing it up front. Sure, you’ve felt it before. Fuck, you even wanted to take it during your real first time – but you’ve never seen it like this.

“Tewti [whoa; wow].” Young Ralak mumbles, lidded eyes widening once they land on the sight of his knot emerging for the first time. It’s bulbous and veiny, pulsing madly as it continues to swell. A breathy moan parts his lips as a curious hand reaches for it, eager to find out how it feels. Slickened from his precum, his fingers glide over it easily, feeling the bump of each vein. His hips buck from his own touch, cock thrusting into nothingness.

Your thighs rub together at the sight. You’d never seen him this turned on before. Not even on the night of your iknimaya. And honestly, neither has he. He’s shocked to see himself so red and swollen, throbbing from how painfully hard he is. He stares at himself in awe, watching his hips stutter and squirming by themselves.

He’d never been inclined to touch himself in this way, not even in the early mornings when he was at his biggest. He would just wait for it to go down and if it was ever too overwhelming, he would come here for a quick bath. But the bath isn’t working today. It’s just too humid and hot for only water to cool down with.

Flustered, he gives into his impulses.

Webbed hand gripping his knot, he strokes upwards, cupping his pulsing tip as it oozes slick over the back of his hand. His head dips back, jaw clenched tightly as his hips stutter, palm of his hand now rubbing on the most tender part of his cockhead. He’s so sensitive – so innocent – like a single thrust of his hips would make his inflamed tip... erupt.

Oh, fuck. You shift your weight from one foot to the other - anything for a little friction.

His cock throbs madly, thick strings of his sticky seed spurting out his slit, an orgasm so powerful he can’t bite back the lengthy, pained whimper coming from his mouth. He looks down, feeling something warm on his stomach. Surprised, he let’s go of himself, staring at the thick bead of white liquid rolling between his abs.

“Oh – Oh Eywa.” He exhales wobbly, trembling hand hovering over his tender and raw cock. He’s so afraid to touch it again. But he wants to. He needs to. He just can’t help himself. All he wants to do is hump away at something – anything.

Anything to get rid of this feeling. The feeling of pure, unrefined frustration, engrained deep in his most inner being. As more time passes, he succumbs to his most primitive self, plunging under the thick, hazy trance of his rut. He grabs a hold of his aching cock, stroking it at the pace his stammering hips set for him. His head slumps back into the wall, chin pointing towards the cave’s roof as he lets loose needy, broken whines into the air.

His eyes squeeze shut, brows knotting together to focus on that gnawing feeling deep in his core. In a split second his whimpers morph into deep, guttural groans, white milky essence spilling from his tip, over his hand and onto his tensed stomach. His eyes pop open, mouth hanging agape as he sucks in a quick, shaky breath of air.

Tears well in his eyes, glossing them over with want and desperation. The blush on his cheeks spreads over the bridge of his nose, breath so hot you could practically see it. He pulls away his hand, exposing his cock, thumping madly as beads of cum roll down his shaft. It’s even harder now, so fucking hard that it strains, pulling his skin so taut that its outright painful.

He fully slumps back against the wall, snapping his hips back to get rid of the intense stretching feeling. He almost caves in on himself, desperate for release. For relief. He begins panting – heavily. Trembling lungs making it hard to catch a full breath, he feels his head spin. Finally, the tears roll down his cheeks. Tears of torment.

The first tears you’ve ever seen fall from his face.

This is what you’ve been going through? All alone? For six years?

Yes. Ralak didn’t seem to be embarrassed by you seeing this at all. In fact, it feels as if he’s... enjoying it. Not necessarily enjoying watching himself suffer, but watching you squirm around trying to deny your own arousal.

Young Ralak slides down the rough wall, finding support on a small ledge near the bank of the lake. He swallows the saliva pooling in his cheeks, trembling hand slowly making its way back down to his aching cock all on its own. He grits his teeth as the pads of his fingers graze his chafed skin. He’s so rubbed out and raw that he whines at the sensation.

It’s like stones in your heart, clunking around as your breath quickens. You feel so helpless, so frustrated, unable to do anything to relieve your mate’s pain, albeit a memory. “Ralak.” You blurt out, surprised to hear your own voice in this hazy reverie.

What shocks you more is when he snaps his head towards you, acknowledging your presence with his delirious, inebriated eyes. You never even knew something like this was possible. You knew you could visit memories, just like you would when plugging in to the spirit tree. But to be involved and interact with them is hard to wrap your head around.

You test the waters a little more, and approach him cautiously, hands splayed out in front of you to show that you have no ill intentions. He watches you move towards him, irises flickering between his usual azure blue to a shade of mauve. You can tell he’s uncertain, just by the way he tries to retreat further into the wall with hand practically plastered to his cock.

“W-Who are y-you?” His voice is wobbly and hoarse.

Tanhì. You ignore Ralak’s warning echoing in your mind and continue moving toward his younger self.

“I am... your mate.” You say in a calming voice.

“M-mate?” He can barely get the word out when a wave of heat ripples through him, making his face red and screw with discomfort. “What’s – ngh, w-what’s happening to m-me?” He panics, bottom lip quivering.

“You’re in rut.” You say quietly, hand extending experimentally, your fingertips brush against his clammy thigh.

I can feel you, Ralak. So maybe I can help you.

His freckles blink from your touch, ears hugging his skull as closely as they can. You can hear the faint chitter of his teeth, jaw clenching and unclenching as he tries to put a stop to it. He’s panting so heavily – so quickly that soon he’s hyperventilating, about to lose it.

“Hey. Hey. Breathe. It’s alright. You’re okay.” You try to reassure him in a soothing voice, resting your hand gently on his thigh. “I – I can help you... if you want me to… I know how you’re feeling.”

Tahni. Ralaks stern voice booms in your head, but you continue to ignore him. You couldn’t take it anymore – watching him suffer in this way, even if it’s just a memory. The thought of him going through this alone for six years of his life makes your heart turn in on itself. Besides, you know that he can always pull you out of this daydream with a simple tug at your kurus.

“It hurts... ssst – why does it, w-why?” He mewls breathily, hand reflexively stroking his length, knot to tip.

Your hand slides up his thigh and over his hand, stopping his eager movements. “I have something better. Something that will get rid of the pain.” You say breathily, nodding your head a bit. “B-But only if you want it.”

Young Ralak nods frantically, allowing you to guide his hands to your waist. His innocent, frightened eyes snap up to yours, making their final flicker to a beautiful mauve as they silently beg for reassurance.

“Don’t be scared. I’m right here. You’re going to be alright.” You croon at him, making your way between his legs as you untie the knot of your soddened loincloth.

You’re going to hurt yourself, y/n. Another warning.

Always so worried about me, and never yourself.

Once your loincloth drops to your knees the scent of your arousal fills the air, driving young Ralak into the thick of his rut. His pupils thin to slits and his fingertips sink into your waist, pulling you into him. Your hands slump into his chest, before sliding up to wrap around his neck for support as you mount your younger mate.

You’re squatting over him, knees pressing against either side of your breasts as you position his cock between your slickened folds. Greedy hands explore your body, gliding up and down your back before gripping your hips to move them up and down his length. He groans, closing his eyes to savour the feeling of something so soft and wet rubbing against him.

Putting pressure on your heels, you slide your slit up to his tip, shifting your hips downwards to position him at your entrance. His cock, desperate to sink itself into anything, goes into a thrusting frenzy once it feels your soft opening. He digs his nails into your skin as he forces you down onto him in one hard thrust. You hide your face in the crook of his neck in hopes to muffle the loud, pained groan falling from your lips.

You can feel every inch of him, just as you would if this were all real. Every vein. Every bump. Every throb. Once you look back at him, you’re met with frightened, innocent eyes, worried that he just hurt you. You smile wobbly, moving your hands to cup his jawbone. “I’m okay. Shh – it’s okay.”

“’m sorry.” He huffs, furrowed brows pinching even tighter as he thrusts into you, jamming his swollen cockhead into your cervix repeatedly. “s-so sorry.”

You rest your forehead against his, looking each other deep in the eyes as he ruts into you like an animal. His thrusts have no rhythm, hips stuttering at an unpredictable, broken pace. His noises are bestial and primal, whimpering and whining as he struggles to move properly.

“Oh, ma ‘Lak. Don’t b-be. jus’ want y-you to feel be-better.” Your voice bounces, hand reaching behind you to press down on his thigh to stop his movements all together. His hips come to a halt, with the occasional unintentional buck, hand caressing his thigh for a bit until he calms down fully.

“Easy, take it easy. Like this” Your hand slides up his thigh, slender fingers gripping the side of his hip to slowly pull him forward. His hips jerk forward on impulse, ramming his head back into your sore cervix. “Agh! A little – a little more gently.” You let out a sweet little cry, pushing his hips away from you.

His breath deepens so much that you can hear it – chest heaving so harshly his shoulders are visibly rising and falling. “S-sorry. Sorry.” He buries his hot face into your chest as he apologizes continually, trying to control the jerk of his hips. His arms wrap tightly around your waist to pull you in for a closer embrace.

Finally, he sinks into you slowly, completely bottoming out in your cunt until his knot kisses the softness of your slit. It’s so sensitive and neglected that he grimaces into your soft breasts, pulling away as he sucks in a quick breath of air with a ‘sss’. You look down to see his brows pinched, lips slightly parted and eyes screwed tightly shut.

He’s having such a hard time – struggling to breathe, struggling to control himself, struggling to be gentle. You can see the glister of the tears seeping from the corners of his eyes and oh – how that makes your heart throb. “Good boy. Doing such a good job, you know that?” You coo with trembling lungs, pulling his head back into you, resting his chin on your shoulder.

You hold him close, cradling him like a baby, cooing in his ear about how well he’s doing. “It’s okay. You’re okay. Just listen to your body.” Your voice quavers as you repeat his own signature words back to him. “Do what you need. Okay?”

He lets out a weak grunt, tightening his hold around you while he snaps his hips back. You can feel every vein and ridge against your gummy walls as he pulls out, and when he sinks himself back in you swear you can feel his swollen knot poking at your entrance. Again. And again. And again. And soon he quickens his broken pace, pounding into you so hard it feels like it may pop in at any second.

Heart slamming violently between your ribs, you tighten your grip around him as you prepare to be knotted for the first time. His lewd noises increase in volume and bass and soon he’s groaning gutturally as his frenzied thrusts become short and deep. So fucking deep that you can’t help but let out a pathetic little whimper when he pushes past the resistance in attempts to shove his fat knot inside you.

And that’s when you feel it.

“It’s happening. Haa – ah! Ha-ppening.” He groans suddenly, grinding even harder into you.

“Let it - haah- happen. Go on, there you go.” You pant, feeling his thick cock pulsate inside you, spurting ropes of his hot, sticky cum in your womb, filling you up until you feel heavy and oh-so-fucking full. It’s so much, it’s overflowing, excess seeping out to dribble down his knot. He’s allows a soft ‘ngh’ to fall from his lips with every pulse of his cock.

He continues to roll his hips into you, a little scared by his body’s impulsive, greedy movements. But he can’t help it, the way his body is screaming to shove this growing bulge inside your tight, little hole. He’s whimpering, at war with himself as he tries his best not to knot you.

Tanhì!

“Don’t fight it. Do it!” You cry out a high-pitched moan, grinding into immense pressure between your legs. You can feel it work its way inside you, stretching you out so much that it burns. But you know this will make him feel better – make the pain go away. “Harder. Push h-harder.” You quiet down to an encouraging, shaky whisper. He’s pushing up into you and shoving you down by your hips at the same time, clenching his jaw from the way you’re pinching him.

Pop.

“Ngh!” It slips in with an audible squelch, burning sensation between your legs growing even hotter. And hotter. And hotter. And oh – fuck. It’s so hot it feels like a ring of fire surrounding his pulsating knot. It hurts – but it hurts so good. So good that your pussy walls flutter around him uncontrollably. “F-fuck!” You cry out, quickly coming to the realization that you’re cumming from the way his knot is burying itself inside you.

He holds onto you tightly as he continues to move inside you, tugging at you as you try to come down from your unexpected high. “W-wait – Ralak!” You whimper loudly, trying to follow his erratic movements. He’s whining from the overstimulation and the way you’re pinching around him; eyes flying wide open to reveal pure panic and guilt when he quickly understands that he’s hurting you.

Suddenly, your vision goes white as the ear-splitting ring pierces your eardrums and in a matter of seconds, you’re back in your shared marui. You open your eyes with an audible gasp to see Ralak peering up at you through furrowed brows. His gaze is almost predatory – piercing, and unflinching. His slumped shoulders rise and fall from how heavily he’s breathing, darkened, almost purple-y mauve irises flicking down to his taut loincloth – soaked with his thick cum.

“Oh, shit.” You breathe, unaware that he was feeling everything, too.

“Only I knot you.” Ralak growls.

A giggle bubbles up your throat, “Really Lak?Jealous? Of yourself?”

He grunts, displeased with your behaviour. “Do not taunt me, Tanhì.”

——

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cannellee · 6 months

Note

It’s 🌺anon here! If you’re okay with it, I’d love to hear about what your genius brain comes up with about the Toman boys with an omega who loves to do domestic things- such as cooking for them, maybe crocheting or knitting them cute sweaters, whatever! I’d love love to hear your take on it, if you’re comfortable! Keep taking care of yourself and keep up the good work✨

-🌺anon

TOKYO REVENGERS OMEGAVERSE ★

୨୧ alpha! Tokyo revengers x omega! Reader

— their reactions to an omega who loves to do domestic things (pairing (not in right order): mikey, draken, baji, chifuyu, taiju, sanzu, inupi, kisaki, hanma, kakucho, kazutora, takemichi)

my masterlist : ☆

(of course!! absolutely anything for you 🌺anon!!<33 (≧▽≦) I hope it isn't too repetitive!)

MIKEY

now we all know mikey would be so happy if his omega loved to cook.

he would brag about it to his friends, rubbing it in their nose that only he can have fresh homemade meals and snacks everyday.

he'll feel so lucky! he will have a clear sense of purpose and accomplishment if you tell him that you like to take care of him in this way. no because his omega is a good cook and a cutie? an absolute win.

he thinks your cooking is the best and won't eat anything else, luckily that's your hobby so it doesn't feel like a chore.

always praises you for how well you cook, he expresses his contentment in such an exaggerated way just to show that's he's really appreciative of your efforts!

thanks you after each meal and asks you if you can also cook him lunchbox. he's practically begging you, so you can't say no<3 but of course if you refuse he won't force you, he'll insist every time he sees you and will get a bit pouty for a while but that's about it.

KAKUCHO

alpha kakucho is so sweet he feels so moved by your gifts:(

like yes of course he'll wear anything his adorable omega made for him. you're so skilled he's always in awe.

buys you more stuff so you can always have materials if you want to sew or knit something.

he's scenting every single piece of work, and whenever you throw away an item you're disappointed with, he'll secretly grab it back whenever you're not around. because none of your work is worthless in his eyes!

he's very admirative of what you do in general, seeing his omega so immersed and passionate about an activity melts his heart!!

and when you shyly gift him a sweater for his birthday he's ecstatic, thanking you with wet kisses and a slight blush across his face.

SANZU

in sanzu's mind, this is the way things should be anyways.

but fuck, when he sees you cooking for the both of you he feels so great. especially if you do take into consideration his taste before yours.

he wants to marry you on the spot.

your need to take care of your alpha makes him really appreciative, although a bit cocky at times.

like, you're just so eager to please your alpha:( it's socendearing and makes him a tad bit more protective.

teases you a lot, he thinks it's really cute of you. he'll wrap his arms around your waist and give you kisses, but there are times when he'll just straight up slap your ass. he loves that you're too busy, hands full of utensils to actually hit him back or anything.

when you don't cook for him he's usually eating trash, so he actually feels really grateful (not that he'll admit it).

KISAKI

when he discovers you love cooking during your free time, he thinks that's really cute of you<3

obviously his interests are very opposed to yours and he loves to find a bit of sweetness and delicacy in his omega.

now kisaki is protective, so he's a bit restless when you start to use a knife or anything that could burn you and harm you.

kindly demands you to step back while he gets the tray of snacks out of the oven while praising you for being a good girl and listening well to what he tells you.

nothing tastes bad when it's you who cooks. but if you ever did mess up a recipe and didn't catch on it yet (because you always make kisaki taste it first) he will politely and gently tell you it probably lacks a bit of salt.

you chuckle a bit when you finally taste the food and it's just awful, kissing your alpha for being so sweet with you<3

TAIJU

taiju is just really pleased and satisfied by his omega.

like you're so perfect for him and his stereotypical lifestyle (sorry).

you cook, you clean and overall make sure your home is well maintained. taiju thinks you fit your role so well and he couldn't be any more pleased with you.

and when he sees you knit items and blankets for your nest, he can't help but think you'll make a wonderful mother for your future pups.

you'll make warm clothes for them, make sure they eat well and keep them healthy.

you just don't know how much you trigger his instincts which command him to protect and provide.

in his eyes, you only need to stay at home while he takes care of everything else. just be that sweet and submissive omega he fell in love with<3

HANMA

hanma always knew you had a thing for decoration, always buying small stuff, curtains, lamps, carpets and other furniture to embellish your home.

he knew that as an omega you liked it cozy and warm, and seeing you walk around the house with a serious and focused face always made him smile.

he likes to observe you while you replace the same vase for the ninth time. he doesn't really see the difference but you seem to take this to heart.

you're always moving things around, needing to find the perfect spot for each item. you like your home organised, you often apologise for never stopping until you're satisfied, but he waves you off saying he doesn't mind at all.

gives you his opinion once in a while about something, you think it's because he wants to take part in the process but it's actually because he knows you won't stop pacing until someone decides for you.

he'll sometimes walk across some store which sells the type of furniture he knows you like and deliver it to your place.

you give hanma a call to thank him, he acts like it's no big deal but you know he likes to spoil you.

later asks for a repay though. if he doesn't ask for something sexual, he'll force you to cuddle him. it clearly depends of your mood, he's really good at reading you.

your nest is really well adjusted and despite being an alpha he likes to spend his time here when he's over at your place.

INUPI

he's also the best!!

when you tell him you like manual activities, he's super involved and admirative of your dedication.

he can watch you for hours in silence while you do your thing.

you repair his damaged clothes, sew back buttons which have fallen off, you literally do anything and inupi feels so grateful to have you.

how could such a dedicated and loving omega fall in love with him? he's forever thankful and constantly showing you his love.

although you love to cook, he sometimes insists he does it too so you can actually rest. like, let your alpha take care of you the way you deserve it, inupi is more than happy to look after you.

whenever you're cooking, he's the first to taste and he actually gives great feedback so you can improve.

you like his honesty and praises whenever you do something for him.

KAZUTORA

kazutora is in love with whatever you do. so it's not surprising when he's the first to encourage you into doing what you want.

he'll gladly let you do his hair if it means you'll let out happy purrs.

you've recently started to craft small pins and jewelry. having long hair and the ears pierced, kazutora was the perfect guinea pig.

and of course he lets you test out your creations. you tie up his hair, adorning it with a handmade ribbon full of beads and flowers. you also decorate him with beautiful pink earrings and take countless pictures of the end result.

kazutora never complains and even asks you if you have anything you want him to try.

he loves the attention you give him but most of all he's really proud for having such a skillful omega.

DRAKEN

you always drop by draken's work place whenever it's lunchtime to give him his homemade meal.

you're quick and you're back home as soon as he thanked you but you wouldn't stop this little ritual for nothing.

you really like to do things for your alpha and turns out you love cooking, it's only natural you bake the most delicious food for him!

as for draken, he absolutely loves it. sometimes he has to fight for his food because mikey keeps trying to steal it but he's overall really thankful.

but he doesn't take your kindness for granted and really often takes you out to get icecream or to places you want to visit.

you're always so thoughtful you bring him his gloves whenever it's winter, you also bring him the wrench he forgot at home...

and when he praises you for being so good to him you feel complete and aligned with your primal instincts, that's the effect draken has on you<3

BAJI

baji likes that side of you.

even if he appears a bit grumpy, you always manage to lift his mood up.

you leave little notes all around the house and he loves it, even if they're cheesy as hell. they're all decorated, colourful and well made.

he collects them, puts some of his favourite inside his wallet and reads them sometimes when he's feeling down and you're not here.

your sweet words about how much you love him are endearing and he teases you about it.

he shows you as well how much he loves you when he gets back from work, he needs to make sure his omega feel that her love is reciprocated!

he also loves it when you give him goodbye kisses, helping him get his stuff ready and giving him a sweet smelling meal you made after waking up.

he knows your love language is act of service, so he likes it a lot when you do stuff for him. but he doesn't fail to show his appreciation even though he's not very verbal about it most of the time.

he'd rather shower you with his smell or let you choose the restaurant each time you go out!

CHIFUYU

why did his omega have to be so cute??

you absolutely love plants, always taking a look at every flower shop you see and not resisting the urge to bring some to your house.

the first time chifuyu bought you flowers was because he knew omegas liked sweet and soft smells. he was courting you and chose his gift diligently. however he didn't expect you'd be this overjoyed.

then he learnt about your absolute love for plants and that was it. he's now bringing you flowers every time he goes out, either a big bouquet of roses, tiny succulents, a bunches of dried flowers or vases that suit your tastes.

he's more than happy to do so and even helps you place them around the house, giving you his well appreciated opinion.

he will also try and learn the name of plants and flowers, especially your favourites, so he can hold a conversation about your favourite topic!

he'll take you to parks and huge glasshouses because his omega deserves the best! and he loves to make you smile<3

TAKEMICHI

it's soo calming to takemichi, he loves it.

when you're both cuddled into the warmth and safety of your nest, your hands are rapidly working on a knitted scarf without a word. it makes takemichi so sleepy, watching you so focused.

he scrutinises every expression of your face, the comfort of it all making him spread more of his pheromones so you both smell like him.

it brings him a homely feeling he can't get enough of.

he watches you silently, occasionally rubbing his scent glands all over you or your work.

once you're done, he's always admirative of your work.

he sometimes asks you to teach him the basics of knitting. he wants to get closer to you by trying out your hobby.

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bonefall · 3 months

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Could the cats make little toys? Like making plushies out of plants or figurines out of rocks and sap or something?

70% of the toys they make are weaved or whittled. I actually made a small scene in the outline (which HOPEFULLY, i keep saying this, should be out Soon TM) of Darkstar's Commandment where she creates a wicker ball as a gift for Reedshine

^^^ These are willow balls! If you have access to willow trees, you can make these really easily. For Clan cats, it's a sign that you're a really good weaver, and making these is a big favor because they're naturally quite brittle.

These are the basis of the famous "mossball." Pure moss doesn't keep its shape if you kick it around; a wicker skeleton is stuffed and covered with moss so it doesn't hurt if it bonks you in the face. Usually, these are just kept in a pile somewhere any anyone can go grab and use one for games.

You can customize a ball for a specific person by sourcing some leather or linen, and then sewing it around the skeleton. WindClan has the market cornered on this sort of thing because of how many rabbits they hunt, but for RiverClan, SkyClan, and ShadowClan, pelts and flax are pretty valuable and not typically wasted on crafting good mossballs.

(SkyClan in particular is more likely to just trade kittypets for their excess toys.)

Even the best Clan cat artisans only whittle the sorts of figurines we might associate with small children. They're sharp-edged, simple, and look a lot like these;

They don't have "polish" figured out yet, so nothing they make looks "smooth." Some cat's going to figure out that they can rub the edges against the nearby exposed sandstone, but I'd leave that for a bit of a "genius" like Dustpelt or his mentor One-Eye to figure out.

They can also be made out of clay, but that's more common in RiverClan and WindClan where wood is scarce.

Figurines are often directly commissioned by deputies and senior warriors for use in strategizing, ESPECIALLY in WindClan where they have a history of needing to "visualize" the various parts of their open moor in battle plans. They can be simple toys, but these can get pretty elaborate as it's seen as a bit of a status symbol if the deputy's "pawn" of you is fancy.

Basically, it means you're important enough to be frequently included in battle plans, so much that YOUR pawn is customized. These will often be buried with the warrior, or passed down to their living descendants.

Figurines show up a lot in "channeling." The illegal, direct method of summoning the dead by bypassing StarClan. They aren't "consumed" by the ritual like more organic tokens, so someone who does a ton of channeling of a specific spirit will often end up crafting one of these.

There's various other toys too, but they're generally not soft or stuffed. Clan cats don't have "plushies," since they require a LOT of textiles and sewing which they can't experiment freely with.

And to close out;

Glue is made from animal hide, and is another one of those "high-quality" materials mostly used by artisans and patrol heads.

Making pitch from pine is dangerous; go here for a tutorial on that

Sap's not a great adhesive, but works fine for kittens just having fun.

Whittling, weaving, and molding are the skills usually used to make toys.

Yes, they make toys, and they love to play with them.

Most "crafts" Clan cats make are communally owned, personal belongings are usually very special.

#Did you know I have 1700 asks #I'm trying to answer some old ones :SPARKLE:#clan culture #Better bones au #Toys #Clan Crafts

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muzansfangs · 4 months

Note

Sharing a threesome idea real quick

Byakuya x reader x kenpachi

Belladonna.

Starring: Byakuya Kuchiki x f!reader x Zaraki Kenpachi;

Format: one-shot;

Warnings: nsfw, threesome, post Aizen’s betrayal, sparring, hair pulling, choking, language, degradation kink, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, anal fingering, slut-shaming, face slapping, rough sex, double penetration, anal sex, scratching, marking, creampie, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, brat taming, oral sex (Kenpachi!receiving);

Plot: When you went to an old bar in the Seireitei to celebrate the beginning of your new career as a Captain for the Gotei 13, you did not expect to bump into you hot-headed former Captain, Zaraki Kenpachi. Your mutual hostility and rivarly made him challenge you into a fight that soon escalated into something more. Caught in the middle of the pouring rain, you ended up finding shelter in a nearby cellar, only to stumble in Byakuya Kuchiki. Insults, resentement and passion made you three lose your shame and composure as you promised yourselves not to talk about that ordeal anymore.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

When you walked into an old bar in the outskirts of the Seireitei, the white haori fluttering around your form surley drew some curious glances from the drunk men chugging down low-quality saké at the large counter on your left. You were used to people murmuring at the sight of your persona and it did not bother you at all. You were quite the controversial character and your name was well known by the upper class as well as by the delinquents inhabiting the Rukongai.

Now, as the chattering around you intensified, you did not even glance at the lower ranks glaring at you and, keeping your chin up in a arrogant demeanor, you strode straight towards the battered table in the back of the bar. You were a usual there. Yet, this time, something was different. You were not a simple member of the Eleventh Division anymore, you were a Captain. The black number sewed on the back of your haori made some of the recruits shake.

Nine.

You had taken the vacant place as a Captain of the Gotei 13. After Kaname Tosen's betrayal, you had not hesitated to step up and claim what you believed was yours. Feared, respected, honored, full of yourself, you were proud to be finally free from the orders of your now former Captain.

"A bottle of saké. The best one you got, thanks" you spoke out, tossing a good amount of money on the counter on your way to your favorite table. The sound of the golden coins clattering onto the wooden surface made the waiter whip his head towards you, his hand already reaching up for shiny medals before his eyes. Apparently, it was his lucky day.

Plopping down onto the bench, granting you a clear view of the whole bar, you rested your feet over the table as you waited for your order. Unhinged, reckless, rude, cruel. Those were just some of the adjectives people picked to describe you. Overall, a rogue. But those who really knew you, oh dear, they called you the classy doll, the rebellious noble, the rich brat, or the capricious princess.

And the worst part of it was that they were right.

Just the idea of being forced to marry him, the stoic heir of the Kuchiki clan made you want to barf. Therefore, not only you had refused to give yourself to him, but you had literally abandoned your family and the glorious position you had in your clan. Enrolling at the Academy was your only choice back then. Soon enough, you found out you were exceptionally skilled at wielding a sword and no woman or man in your year could make you bend the knee.

Obviously, you were a good match for the infamous Eleventh Division and that was how you ended up fighting alongside the bloodthirsty Zaraki Kenpachi. He taunted you for your grace, pointing out how you were even more obsessed with yourself and composure than your comrade Yumichika. This probably contributed to bring out the worst in you.

When the waiter finally settled the bottle of saké in front of you, a smug grin graced your lips and you triumphantly proceeded to pour yourself some of it to start the night with a bang. As soon as you brought the cup to your lips, though, you widened your eye in irritation at the sight of the tall man entering the bar, his heavy footsteps echoing in the now silent area.

Zaraki Kenpachi.

You gritted your teeth, your free hand reaching up to remove the black eyepatch on your left eye as you made sure to let your reiatsu clash with his one, when he made eye-contact with you. Some recruits faltered, some others even scurried out of the bar, sensing how the air had gotten exponentially denser, gloomier. Your hands slammed over the table, the saké spilling out of the cup, splattering on your uniform and the dark wooden surface.

"What the hell are you doing here?" you blurted out, glaring at him as he finally stopped a few feet away from you.

"What an insufferable brat you are. Calm your tits, princess. — Zaraki croaked out, tilting his head to the side, sizing you up with an unreadable face before continuing — So it's true, I see. You've made it, in the end".

You narrowed your eyes at him, blood boiling in your veins at the sound of that nickname you loathed with every molecule of your body. He knew you did not want to hear anyone hinting at your noble lineage. The gold and the parades belonged to your past. A past you did not want to talk about anymore.

"What is it? Didn't you trust the rumors enough to believe them? Did you really come all the way here to ascertain whether I was the new Captain in charge of the Ninth Division, or not? It's a wonder how you've not got lost in the process..." you sassed, your words dripping haughtiness and bumptiousness.

Zaraki sighed and unsheathed his chipped sword, causing some drinkers to freeze, eyes darting on you two in anticipation. They perfectly knew what was about to happen and you did too, a devious smirk making its way on your lips as you reached for the hilt of your sword almost instinctively. You were honestly up for some fun. This fight, actually, was long overdue. After decades spent in bickering and taunting each other, it was only fair to let one of those spark igniting a great fire.

"Bring your ass out of this place, princess. I am here to fight. I believe you make a poor excuse of a Captain" he stated in a raspy voice, staring you down in disdain.

Nobody around you dared to talk. Your malicious grin, however, spoke volumes as you unsheathed your sword and laisurely walked out of the bar. The hunger for glory and a bloody, exciting fight, typical characteristics of your former Division, were now kicking in again. You yearned to taste blood on your teeth, to slash and stab your opponent once and for all to show him you were not the frail little princess in distress who had found shelter in the Academy.

"Are you so sure about it? Maybe I'm just going to chop you up and steal your title. Perhaps, I will become the real Kenpachi" you provoked him, your tone of voice infuriatingly mocking as you located a good spot to fight without causing too much trouble to the citizens.

The way he laughed made you falter, though. Your grip on the hilt of your zanpakuto tightened significantly, your eyes locking with his ones as you adopted a defensive stence to prevent a possible attack from him.

"Look at you. Haven't I taught you to act instead of wasting your time in meaningless talk with your opponent? That's a duel, not a chit-chat. But I guess I shouldn't get too mad about it. Some royal ass like you would have never fitted the Eleventh Division anyway" Zaraki bitterly retorted, a wave of his reiatsu washing over you in a intimidating manner.

Your right eye twitched, his words hitting a nerve, and trusting into your abilities blindly you sprinted towards him. You swung your blade towards his neck, aiming for his pulsing jugular, enjoying the air whipping your face harshly. The adrenaline was immense, joy and fieriness burning in your eyes, but the sound of your swords clashing brought you back to reality. You were close now, maybe too close considering his immense physical strength, distancing yourself from him would have been a wise move but he clearly had other plans.

His free hand snapped up towards your wrist, his iron grip making you wince out in pain, as he tossed you far away into a dark alley. The impact of your back against the wall knocked the air out of your lungs temporary, a shaky breath leaving your lips as you slumped down onto the ground. The pain was immense, but you had endured worse wounds and blows in your career.

Groaning out in pain, you rolled on your side, you hand reaching out for your balde hastily until he stepped over it and towered over you. His shadow loomed over your frame as a hollow and you felt your mouth going dry. That was going to he a problem.

Zaraki grinned down at you tangled his tick fingers in your hair, yanking your hair back to make eye-contact with you. His breath was hot against your cold skin, as he pinned you up against the wall once again. Your feet kicked the air aimlessly in a futile attempt to kick him between his legs.

"Pathetic. Not even Kurosaki had such a poor performance at our first match" he mocked you, earling a spit on his face that left him totally unfazed, albeit he snorted and pressed you harder against the wall with his massive body.

Both of your hands gripped his large wrist, clawing at his flesh to somehow get him to release the painful grip on your hair. He was literally holding you up as if you were a weak kitten. Your scalp stung, your teeth were gritted as you lashed out at him "Leave me alone then! Why wasting your time with me?" you shouted at his face, earning a scornful glance from him.

"Maybe I don't wanna fight. Maybe I just feel this urge to tame you and your bratty ass once and for all" he hissed at your face, the hand holding your hair now wrapped around your neck and making you choke on your own words, throat contracting to suck in some precious air he was depriving you of.

You narrowed your eyes, your leg wrapping around his hip as you planted your hand over his chiseled abs. The only chance you had to escape this deadly grip was probably using a kidō. Grinning up at him, although your face had turned purple, you whispered some soft words that made an explosion between you two.

"Hadō 31. Shakkahō" you said, earning a groan from the masthodontic man before you.

The red flame cannon exploding between you two made him retreat of a few steps. His grip on your neck loosened, as you slumped down on the dirty ground with a grunt. Panting, you squinted, trying to scrutinize the area in search for him. The greyish smoke, however, was still too thick for you to discern anything more than the pebbles underneath your feet. Your breath was still uneven as you picked your blade back up, twirling it between your fingers with expertise as you tried to follow his reiatsu.

It was crazy how you could still sense his iron grip on your neck even now that his fingers were no longer wrapped around your throat to squeeze the life out of you. The was your heart was thumping into your cheeks, making you feral, searching glory and letting your heart follow the basic, animalistic desires, was incredible. It was as if he had awakened a dark side of you caged in the depths of your mind.

The loud thunder exploding above you, heavy and tenebrous clouds obscuring the once limpid sky, contributed to the crescendo of anxiety enveloping your heart. What did you want? Him, at your feet. Now. You wanted to defeat him, just like he wanted to break you.

Inhaling sharply, your detected his blow and you swung your blade up above your head to block his lethal slash. The metallic clash of your swords made you whip your head towards him, the smoke finally clearing out as he now was so close to you. His superior physical strength made you stumble back for the impact, only fueling the primordial desire to prove yourself.

"Did you honestly believe I was going down so disgracefully? That's not my style" you cooed, standing back up, dusting away some dirt from the once snow-white haori embracing your figure.

"You've been lucky. Those knees of yours will eventually bend before me. — Zaraki said, pointing his sword at you menacingly — Look at you, still bothering to clean up your clothes instead of focusing entirely on me. You need to improve your concentration instead of yapping and playing the princess in the middle of a duel" the Captain of the Eleventh Division pointed out, making you glare at him in disdain.

He never praised you. Not even once. Not in your entire life. Maybe that irked you more than you liked you admit and that feeling of not being enough to make him proud of you surely played a major role in makinf you push past your limits, work harder to accomplish your goals. Your ambition and determination came from years of starvation.

You narrowed your eyes at him, a cool droplet splattering on the tip of your nose not making you flinch at all. You were too far gone to care about it. The sound of the rain pattering on the desolate street, on your clothes and blade, drenching your hair and making goosebump raise on your body did not nothing to sooth your nerves

You both decided to move in the same exact moment. Your faces were only a few inches apart, when your swords clashed again, a strained scream of fury echoing around you as you engaged a close-up battle. Your uniforms soon were torn in various parts, skin exposed as the blood from the small cuts mingled with the pouring rain washing it away. Your breath was uneven, as you ended up in a blind alley. Admitting your defeat was an option you were not contemplating, but your muscles ached, your breath was too shallow to go ahead and, much to your dismay, you were running out of stamina.

With a last blow, Kenpachi made your grip on your zanpakuto loosen and your back hit the wall behind you. The jagged edge of his blade pressed up against your neck, water dripping down your face, a defiant glare gleaming in your eyes as he towered over you.

"Pathetic" he barked out, earning a groan of frustration from you as you lolled your head back against the wall to distance your tender neck from the dreadful blade piercing it.

You gritted your teeth, back flattened against the cold surface behind you "Why don't you kill me then?" you asked him plainly.

Zaraki lowered his sword, his hand replacing it once again as he pressed you harder against the smooth surface at your back "Because I told you I was going to make you bend the knee, not kill you" he snarled, hitting the back of your knee and loosening his grip on you. The impact of your rotula against the asphalt made you yelp, eyes shooting up in contempt as you watched him undo the white knot keeping his pants up.

Your blood ran cold. The defeat on your tongue suddenly tasting better than the awarness of being out in a semi-public place in such a compromising position. It was not like someone could see you there. It was still raining pretty hard, this area was hardly patrolled anyway. As much as you wanted to tell him to go to hell, you had to admit this whole situation was making something stir within you.

"What's up now? Is the princess too uptight to let loose? Or is it the fact that you probably lack the talent to please me?" Zaraki taunted you, as your eyes widened even so slightly, hand reaching up to wipe some water off of your face.

No, you could not let him believe that too. You were too proud for that.

"Fuck you" you fired back, exhaling through your nosetrils in exhasperation, before taking action. Your head whipped to your right, checking out if someone was turning the corner, then you reached both of your hands up to tug his pants down his thighs.

And, obviously, you were not disappointed in the slightest. Your mouth parted, a small, inaudible gasp escaping your lips as he gripped your hair tightly to catch your attention. Grimacing in pain, you flicked your gaze up to meet his restentful and arrogant one.

"Eyes on me. Show me that you are closer to be harlot rather than a princess" he challenged you, only for your hand to wrap around his cock and giving it a few firm and languid stroke.

Kenpachi groaned softly, amused by the fact that your hand could barely wrap around his whole girth. You wondered if you were going to make it fit in your mouth, but you also knew that he was not going to let you have the command of the situation. Not at all, not even for a second.

"You're going to choke on your words pretty soon" you hissed, mouth parting as your tongue darted out to livk and tease his pinkish tip.

The way he thrused his hips forward, fingers tangled in your hair to keep you in place though, made you regret your words and your eyes widened for the sudden intrusion in your mouth. He showed no mercy at all, your throat almost contracting as you breathed through your nose. You had littel time to adjust as he drew back before snapping his hips forward again, setting up a rather relentless pace to literally fuck your mouth.

The gag reflex at first made it so hard for you to relax, eyes squeezed shut as his cock bullied the back of your throat. Your warm mouth was perfect for him. The pleasure and satisfaction it provided him was immense, his feral grunts filling the air around you as he hoarsely chuckled, looking down at the way your nails dug into his thighs for support.

Drool was running down your chin, his cock disappearing into your stretched mouth making him realize how good of a girl you could be if someone like him took the reins.

"Look at you. It looks like you are the one choking now" he groaned out, giving a few last thrusts before pulling out of you.

Coughing, you fell forward as he stepped away from you. Your hands preventing you from falling face first as you panted, tears still making your eyes burn. Your throat was definitely sore now, speaking was not something you could do right away.

A large hand wrapping around your forearm and pulling you back on your feet made you jolt, Zaraki's mouth capturing your lips in a fervent kiss bringing you back on Earth. You did not protest, your hands cupping his cheeks, as he hooked his hands underneath your thighs and lifted you up. The cellar at your back could provide you some shelter from the rain and the right amount of privacy for continuing what had started.

As he kicked the door open, he roughly let you down. You did not have enough time to talk, his calloused hands gripping your hips and spinning you towards the wall. The palms of your hands flattened on the wall, eyes closing, when he dragged your pants and underwear down your legs.

"Spread your fucking legs" he roared in your ear, fingers already slipping between your thighs to torment your throbbing clit. It was not a surprise for him feeling how wet you already were. His rough digits had no problem at all in slipping past your folds, plunging deep into your core to prompt strained moans from you.

"You better hurry up and not be a disappointment, Kenny" you breathed out, back arching as you rested your forehead against the wall. His fingers thrusting in and out of you sent shivers down your spine, your thighs quivering as you closed your eyes in bliss. A bliss destined to vanish abruptly as a familiar reiatsu dawned on you two.

How? How was he there?

Your head turned to glance back above your shoulder, greyish eyes boring judgementally into yours. Byakuya Kuchiki, the standoffish man you had refused to marry back then, was standing a few feet away from you two, his neat clothes giving him his typical regal appearence that made your blood boil into your veins.

"I'm not into exhibitionism. Move away" you blurted out, soft whimpers falling from your lips as Zaraki kept on curling his fingers into you relentlessly. You were close, sweat beading your forehead as you tried to restrain your orgasm.

The lewd squelching sounds echoing into the room made you blush, as Zaraki stared down at Byakuya in contempt "What is it? Are you envious or are you a virgin? Don't you know how to handle a woman? No wonder she refused your hand back then" he sarcastically commented, making you roll your eyes as he slipped his fingers out of your aching cunt.

Everyone knew it. The entire Seireitei knew that you had decided to turn your back on your family and choose to get your hands dirty instead of getting married to him. Albeit Byakuya never allowed his fragilities and emotions to slip past his stoic façade, you knew your stunt had hurt his feelings.

As Zaraki forced you to get on all fours on the floor, groans of protests erupting from your throat, you locked eyes with the noble man standing tall before you. His eyes were seemingly reduced to slits, as he watched the way Zaraki latched one of his hands behind your neck to keep you in place, while the other lined his cock to your opening. You were going mad. The anticipation of hearing Byakuya venomously retort something paired with the burning desire of feeling Zaraki split your walls apart, fill you up the brim, were making your body tremble.

“I would have never married a whore anyway” the Captain of the Sixth Division broke the silence again, stepping forward until he knelt right before you.

You felt your blood pump fast in your veins, rage and wrath blinding you as you opened your mouth to clearly make him regret his words. But the smack on your face, the way your head snapped to the side, even if it was not meant to truly hurt you, made you shudder. You had not seen it coming, too distracted by your irritation and the way Kenpachi’s cock dragged up and down your slit to collect your juices on his length.

“You never wished to be treated like a loved wife, did you? That is the kind of treatment your cunning heart ardently craved? It would be just direspectful of me not to be indulgent with you now, right?” Byakuya calmly said, his words ringing in your head like a death sentence, lips parted in disbelief, when you watched him unfasten his robes.

“You are a freak just like the others, Kuchiki Byakuya. Let’s do this then. I have nothing to lose. But you have factually lost my respect and admiration” you pointedly remarked, whining softly as Zaraki squeezed your left rear to catch your attention again.

With your eyes transfixed on Byakuya’s chiseled abs, on his bulge, you simply got the hint of what he wanted. Raising up on your knees, you let Byakuya help you to straddle him, the tip of his cock pressing into your warm cavern. As he gradually let you sink down onto him, a strained moan left your throat as you gripped his shoulders to adjust to his size. He stretched you perfectly, your walls clenching onto his length so deliciously that even his composed self was forced to let out soft groan.

“Really now? You think you can just walk in and steal my bitch like that? I’m fucking sure it’s mine the name she’ll scream while coming” Zaraki growled, his tick fingers now trying to prep your puckered hole for what was yet to home.

The soft grunts of Byakuya, the pleasure coiling in your lower abdomen made you relax a little, despite the slightly uncomfortable feeling of being stimulated in such a delicate spot. Your shallow breaths mingled with Byakuya’s ones, forcing you two to make an intense eye-contact.

It was weird remembering how much you loathed him right now, or how you thought you would have never let him touch you even with a finger. It was almost degrading, humiliating, your eyes squeezed shut as he reached your g-spot with a particularly hard snap of his hips. Your movements were meeting his thrusts, high-pitched moans now piercing the ears of the two men feasting on you.

There was passion, hate, aggression between you two.

The moment Zaraki finally pulled his fingers out of you to replace them with his cock, your nails scratched down Byakuya’s back hard enough to leave crescent moons marks onto his flawless skin. It hurt quite a bit, your muscles struggling to relax as the air seemed to be knocked out of your lungs.

The stretch was immense, unbearable, your wobbling lips brushing against the ones of the noble man you were riding. You did not think he would have showed you some mercy at this point, but when he kissed you passionately, his hand gripping your jaw roughly to keep your head in place, you knew he was finally letting his mask slip off to let his emotions take over.

You let out a strained moan he gladly swallowed, Zaraki’s thrusts being firm and steady as you gradually allowed your muscles to relax. You had never in your life experienced anything like that. You felt about to explode, the feeling of being stuffed to the brim, of being manhandled like that was overwhelming.

“So tight! Shit, I’ll stuff you full of my cum” Zaraki growled in your ear, his mouth latching onto your neck, biting, sucking, bruising you to remind you of how miserable you were in his hands.

The sound of skin slapping against skin, the groans and moans coming from the three of you would have made anyone passing by turn pale, their ears bleeding in disgust. You were not people in that moment. You were animals.

“Come” Byakuya whispered in your ear, observing the way you shuddered, your walls clamping down onto him as you felt them both twitch into you.

And you did. The moment you came, Byakuya thrusted upwards sloppily, his seed painting your insides white, as you released a ragged breath and your back flattened against Zaraki’s sweaty, firm abs. You felt it, the way the Captain at your back cussed before keeping his promise to fill you up too.

Panting, still stuffed up with their now softening members, you found the strength to say something they obviously agreed with.

“Not a word with anyone”.

AUTHOR NOTE.

Hello there!

I am going to be ashamed of myself for a few hours after this. I honestly hope you are going to enjoy this piece because I literally have poured my whole heart into it. It’s my official second threesome, being the Shinobu x reader x Giyuu one the first one I have written! Likes, comments and re-posts are greatly appreaciated!

Until next,

X O X O

TAGS: @shonen-brainrot @electronicwitchcollection

#byakuya kuchiki x reader #byakuya x reader #kuchiki byakuya x reader #zaraki kenpachi x reader #kenpachi x reader #bleach smut #bleach x you #bleach x reader #kenpachi zaraki #byakuya x you #byakuya smut #zaraki kenpachi #kenpachi smut

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seabirdtxt · 11 months

Note

It's been a while since I made a request to a blog, but I really enjoy your writing, and your AUs got my brain going with ideas (especially the Glitch AU). It has me thinking about how our favorite little Puppet boys would react to some of the... interesting hobbies I have: two of those being things like Doll making/repainting, and cosplaying/ general fantastical costuming.

I feel like both of these hobbies have the potential to lead to both hilarious situations and moments of being a bit... perturbed at best (especially doll making: the random assortment of doll limbs being places, or having naked dolls that are precariously hung from the ceiling to finish drying from paint jobs).

I do know that at least Kabukimono and Wanderer (Scara might have forgotten since he hadn't used the skill in a long time, and Wanderer likely relearned it) know how to sew, so the sewing part could be cute bonding time.

Could be platonic or romantic in nature: both would be fine. And also, fully understand it will probably take you time to get to this, of you even get to it at all. I just appreciate you taking the time to read this request~! Can't wait for your next bits of work: hope you have a wonderful day~!!! 💕💕💕💕

hey!! thanks so much for your request!! this was a funny idea bc i can't imagine any of scara's iterations being any good at collaboration but for all separate reasons lmao

I'm not too knowledgeable about doll making but hopefully you like this anyway :D i wrote it as a bit of a glitch!AU spinoff in my mind, but feel free to imagine any other scenarios these three clowns might come together for hahaha WC. 1.3k

----- ⚘ -----

When the three puppets were told not to enter your room and disturb your hobby workstation, this isn’t what they had in mind. Wanderer thought maybe you did something embarrassing as a hobby, Scaramouche thought it might be something potentially dangerous especially if you intended to keep it a secret from them, while Kabukimono was certain that you did some sort of artistic craft that you preferred to keep hidden until the end product was finished.

All three of them were right, in some way or another.

The three of them stand in your workshop, staring in horror at the dozens of separated doll components you’d strung up around the edges of the room. Scraps of tiny, doll-sized outfits were scattered around your desk, and a half-painted doll head was mounted on some sort of device in the middle of the chaos. The doll’s single painted eye watches their trespassing with silent judgment.

You’re glad you find them out so soon, and you have exactly three seconds to stop them from touching anything in the workshop.

“WhatareyouguysDOINGinhere?!” Nailed it.

Kabukimono leaps a vertical foot into the air out of fright at your sudden and shrill outburst, while the other two react in more subdued manners before turning around to face you, standing in the doorway behind them. Your arms are outstretched, palms forward, and you’re braced as though you’re anticipating some sort of impact.

“Don’t. Touch. Anything.” You warn. “Not all of these are dry, and if you smudge anything I’ll have to restart them.”

“Why do you have a bunch of dismembered doll corpses?” Scaramouche asks, jerking his thumb at the precariously hanging doll components.

“A seller in Inazuma asked me if I could help him finish a few dolls, since I told him I used to do it as a hobby back in my world.” You explain, not dropping your guarded position. “If any of you want to eat dinner this week, I suggest you step away from the dolls. Slowly.”

“Can you not call them that?” Kabukimono complains to Scara as the trio carefully shuffle out of your workshop. “They’re not corpses, they just haven’t been put together yet.”

“Well, they aren’t alive either, so what’s your point?”

“If you need some help completing them, I can pitch in.” The three of you look wide-eyed at Wanderer, who seems to immediately regret making the offer. He shrugs and looks away quickly. “Or not. Whatever.”

“I’d love some help,” you start hesitantly. “But what did you want to help with?”

“I can sew the clothes, I guess.”

Scaramouche’s nose wrinkles at this statement. “You can sew?”

“Why is that so surprising?” Wanderer counters, reaching into the inner lining of his haori and showing off a small, familiar cloth doll. Instantly, Kabukimono is patting himself down with a frantic expression, before pointing at Wanderer accusingly.

“Where did you get that?! I lost it a long time ago!”

“Heh, of course you did.” Wanderer smirks. “I made mine. What, are you telling me you never thought of making yourself a new one?”

“I was never good at doing the small stitches…” Kabukimono pouts, crossing his arms and eyeing the doll jealously.

“That aside,” Wanderer continues, turning to you. “I can help you finish the clothes for your project dolls. The faster you can finish them, the faster you can retrieve the commission for them, right?”

“That’s true, I guess,” you acquiesce, already running the math in your head. If you could get the commission for the dolls early, you might not have to budget as hard this week.

“I wanna help too!” Kabukimono declares, raising his hand (a bit redundantly, given he’s standing right next to you).

“Whatever,” Scaramouche snorts and waves dismissively as he begins to walk away. “If that’s what you nerds want to waste your time on, be my guest. As long as you don’t make it my problem, I don’t care what you do in your free time.”

“Party pooper,” you say, sticking out your tongue at his retreating back. “Well, what do you say, guys? Let’s get this bread?”

“Sure,” Wanderer nods, heading back into the workshop.

“What does bread have to do with dollmaking?” Kabukimono asks, even as he’s herded into the room by you.

“I’ll explain later, let’s finish up these bad boys first,” you promise, and the workshop door closes behind you.

----- ⚘ -----

“I made another sword!” Kabukimono declares, hurrying over to your workbench and showing off the tiny doll-sized sword he’d made. The fifth one, so far.

“That’s great, buddy!” You give him a pat, to his delight. “I think we’re okay on swords for now, though, d’you wanna try making something else this time?”

“Okay!”

Wanderer looks up from where he’s sitting cross-legged on the floor, a few pins sticking out of his mouth as he uses them to hold his patterns in place.

“Did your toymaker guy say what kinds of dolls he wanted?” He asks, holding up another utilitarian-looking outfit. “I can’t imagine this is what he had in mind when he asked for your help.”

“I mean, these are kind of edging into action figure territory,” you shrug. “But that’s probably fine. There’s a market out there for everything, nowadays.”

“Make a kimono that looks like the Shogun,” Kabukimono suggests, handing Wanderer some purple fabric. “Everybody likes the Shogun, right? She should be pretty popular.”

You and Wanderer both wince (for different reasons) at Kabukimono’s well-meant statement. However, Wanderer does take the purple fabric and sets it gently aside, and you wonder if he’ll take the suggestion after all.

“Are you losers done in here? I’m tired of doing the dishes for two days straight,” Scaramouche kicks the door in, uncaring of the delicate work you three are doing. Thankfully, the risky parts are all done, so nothing suffers any damage with his sudden entrance. Scara drops three bowls onto your workbench, each piled with fried rice and vegetables.

“Ha, you’d make a great housewife,” Wanderer snickers, earning himself a smack on the back of his head. “Ow.”

“Thank you!” Kabukimono takes his bowl and brings it to where he’s working on something, hopefully not another sword.

“Thanks,” you say as well, giving Scara a genuine smile. The puppet scowls and leaves as quickly as he’d come in.

“Don’t bother! It doesn’t benefit anyone if you drop dead from starvation, you know?” he sneers over his shoulder as he slams the door shut.

There’s silence as you three eat the lunch that was generously provided, stacking the bowls and putting them beside the door for when you guys go for your next break.

“I think I’m done after I finish this last outfit,” Wanderer sighs, holding up the unfinished garment. It looks hilarious in his hands, a cheerful pink and purple kimono in stark contrast to his deadpan expression.

“I’m almost done too!” Kabukimono adds, holding up his latest project: a doll-sized armor set. You smile gratefully at the both of them, even as you rub your temples with a sigh.

“Okay, great, I’ll put these together and bring them to the toymaker later this afternoon, then!” You say, hoping you sound enthusiastic about it. You think about the mismatched collection of outfits and sword accessories, wondering how you were going to sell this to your temporary employer.

----- ⚘ -----

As it turns out, if there’s one thing Inazumans like, it’s swordsmen. The toymaker looks in awe at your half dozen tiny samurai, handing you a pouch of mora with a pleased word of thanks.

As you’re headed back home, you get a telepathic message from Wanderer.

KABUKIMONO WANTS TO KNOW WHEN WE’RE GETTING MORE DOLLS.

‘He fired me, we’ll have to do something else,’ you think back, hoping you don’t sound too guilty in your head.

As much as you love these guys, you aren’t sure you could take another two days straight of having to collab with them. Hopefully buying some treats on the way home will placate them.

—– ⚘ —–

^ reader trying to juggle all three scara iterations without breaking any of the dolls LMAO

#genshin sagau #genshin self aware au #sagau #self aware genshin #genshin isekai #genshin scaramouche #sagau scaramouche #genshin wanderer #sagau wanderer #genshin kabukimono #sagau kabukimono #sagau x reader #scaramouche x reader #wanderer x reader #kabukimono x reader #seabird.txt #seabird.inbox #littlemistermedley

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lizzaneia-elizalde · 6 months

Note

Male Yandere Husband x Pregnant Female Stepford Wife Reader

(I don’t think you’ve done anything like this yet? So if not, think you can try?)

I want him to be a master manipulator, but really delusional in a loving/devoted sense. Believing that what he’s doing is for our best interest, as well as the baby’s. That includes confining us at home, always being with us 24/7 when we’re outside our home, etc. And generally getting us to be 100% dependent on him, (like we already weren’t heavily dependent on him before…)

Thank you!!! 💝

Yandere! Husband! Politician x Pregnant! Fem! Stepford! Wife! Reader

SORRY IT TOOK ME LONG TO GET THIS REQUEST DONE!

I got busy with University that I only got to write right now. I'm so tired lol

Journalism is... Something...

I had a hard time incorporating the yandere stuff with such a willing reader, but I tried LOL.

This one's only got two sections, since the both of you are married already, so it went straight to the yandere-ness.

But here ya go! Requests will be back on once more!

BTW, the master list is up now! It's my pinned post.

Yandere! Politician name: Maximus

Maximus.

Just like his name, he was the greatest Politician out there. Whatever that means.

He's charming, intuitive, generous, kind, and compassionate.

Every election season, if you ask people who will they vote as a mayor or whatever position Maximus ran as, they'll say

"Isn't it obvious? Of course it's Maximus!"

So it didn't faze the people that he won whenever he ran.

As young as he is, he's always been active in the political sphere. From the student council, he's always been in the highest positions out there. Secretary, Vice President, and President.

Hell, if you ask him to do treasury, then he'll gladly accept and do it much better than the current treasurer or auditor. No specks, no crumbs, a clean liquidation sheet.

And when he graduated as the University president, local parties flocked towards him to invite him in their political party.

So many choices for the great Maximus.

After many days of researching and finding out the dirt, secrets, strengths, and weaknesses of each political party, he chose a party suited for the straight laced man.

That, and that you were there.

You were the unlisted assistant of your father, who was running as vice mayor, and is finding a mayor to be with.

This was perfect.

Maximus has always liked you.

Scratch that.

He always loved you.

You were the daughter of a well known governor inside your city. Pristine, shy, quiet, and always had a smile in your face, everyone back in school liked you. You were the epitome of etiquette and manners. If parents want somebody to compare to their child to belittle them, it would be you, little miss perfect.

Both of you live in a small city, almost a town size. So everyone knew each other, and you both lived in the same district.

it's just that he didn't fly under your radar from how busy he is.

Unlike your father, you never joined politics. You just sat there, studied, did some small knitting projects or sewing. Maybe even drawing if you felt like it.

At first, Maximus didn't really pay you any attention, until he heard your conversation with your friends.

"What? Seriously?"

"I am serious." Your melodious laugh echoed through the empty halls. It was already 5pm, and only a handful of students are left.

"But... That's so traditional lol."

"I know, but really. I just want to stay at home, serve my husband, take care of our kids... You know, the gist."

"But, you said you'll do Social work, Home eco, or culinary in Uni. So what's up with that?"

You just smiled at your friends until they said "oh..." in understanding.

Those courses can help develop your home rearing skills.

"I mean, sure. If you're happy with that." One of your friends finally broke the silence, followed by "meh's..." "eh..." and grunts of approval.

"Thank you for accepting for who I am." You smiled once more at them and they gave you an understanding grin.

Then and there, Maximus became curious about you.

Maximus also had a traditional way of thinking. Not all women, but his wife should just be staying pretty in his home, while taking care of their children...

He knew that only a small percentage of people would be open to that notion, and he was fine with it.

It did made him feel lonely sometimes. He's always dreamt of a domestic life, but the woman is always a faceless grey glob. He just can't see somebody in his life who would be willing to be like that.

So when he heard your conversation, that night in his dreams, he woke up sweating and confused when the faceless glob greeted him. But rather than the glob, it was you. Smiling with two children who looked like the exact perfect mix of the both of you.

"What the fuck..." He breathed out of his mouth, shaking his head.

Now, every night, his dreams were infiltrated with you.

And that started in highschool, all throughout University, up until you both graduated.

Your paths never crossed once more, since he's in AP classes most of the time, both of you were on different blocks in senior highschool despite having the same strand, and he chose Political Science in University while you did BS in Home Economics. But he always peeled his eyes for you. Dismissal, lunch, even breaks.

His friends teased him for having such a long time crush, and he just laughed and waved his hand.

And when the both of you graduated, he's about to confess his feelings when he saw you talking with a man, with eyes so wide and filled with adoration.

He felt his heart break.

He was numb, standing there and looking at you interact with the man who was smiling down at you with a ruffle on your hair.

He felt irrationally jealous.

Wait, him? Jealous?

He never felt jealous.

Did he?

He doesn't know anymore.

All he could see is you holding a bouquet of lilies and smelling it while the man hugged you.

He wants to rip the man limb from limb, desecrate his body, and feed it to the alligators.

Why is he wrapping his arms around you like that? He never heard you getting a boyfriend?

And he has a lot of connections to know.

Then he scoffed, like a breath of fresh air rushing into his lungs.

He needed a break.

When did he act like this? When did he become so...

He doesn't even know what it's called.

He's always been a good man. One that doesn't know anger, jealousy, possessiveness...

But what's this? Feelings that stirred inside him threatened to spill out.

So he ran away before it would get worse.

Years later, seeing your name in that certain partylist, he knew he had to join it. Just for a one sided closure he needed.

"Hello! You're Y/N right? You went to the same... School as me!" Maximus said, leaning his upper body to meet your face. His face soft, gentle, and mellow.

"O-oh! Hello sir Maximus! I knew we did, but I didn't know you knew me..." You shyly answered, your thumb brushing against the back of your other hand.

Maximus gulped.

He didn't realize how much he is missing you.

His eyes scanned towards your desk and his eyes widened a bit when he saw the man once more with you in a photo, but this time, with your father and mother.

So, with his trembling lips from the sudden hope bubbling inside him, he pointed.

"Is that your family?" He whispered and you nodded with a soft smile of adoration.

"Yes. I love them a lot." You said, caressing the photo. "That's my dad, mom, and my big brother."

"Oh! That's amazing. It's rare to see a tight knit family nowadays. I mean, families falling left and right, can't people just communicate and--" Maximus rambled, not even caring if the things he's saying is insensitive. He was just so happy that he actually has a chance to woo you.

"Is that so? I mean, my family had fallouts, and sometimes communication is not enough. Actions speak louder than words, of course." You said, carrying the conversation further.

Maximus grinned before taking a seat beside you and talking about deep, familial stuff. With him sprinkling hints of him being a traditional man.

You didn't miss the hints, evident from the blush forming on your cheeks and the shyness emanating from your words faltering.

And he found it adorable.

Once you both ran out of things to debate, he held your hand gently.

"Hey, y/n, what do you think about going on a date with me?"

The rest is history.

"Darling, I'm home!" Maximus yelled once he got inside the mansion. "Today was a bit of a mess..."

Maximus heard an excited gasp and shuffling before he saw you waddling towards him, with a 7 month pregnant belly.

"Welcome home, darling." You greeted him with the smile he loves.

You took off his coat and hung it on the rack, before guiding him towards the kitchen.

"I helped cook today! The dinner for this night is lamb ch... Maximus?"

Maximus has a frown on his face, looking at you with such a disapproving look.

"Darling, why are you working in the kitchen?" He gently asked, caressing your belly. "You're pregnant, you need to rest always!"

You shrunk down a bit, sad.

"But I want to serve you again..."

Maximus' eyes softened at your words before giving you a loving kiss on your forehead.

"I know, darling. But that's what the chefs are for right? The servants too. I hired them to take care of you. Of us." He said, guiding you to the couch and gently sitting you down. "I don't want you getting tired. You're already being burdened by being pregnant and nurturing our child."

You nodded, easily swayed by his words.

"I know... Give me a kiss?" You asked, tilting your head up. He chuckled and gave you a soft peck.

"There. Now stay there, alright? We'll be eating here in the living room. You're already walking too much." Maximus said before hugging you and going to the kitchen.

Once he got to the kitchen, he grabbed a knife and threw it at the chef that was already cowering in the corner.

"Why did you let Y/N work?" He growled out, his eyes sharp, deadly, and authoritative.

Ever since you got married to Maximus, his protectiveness shot through the roof. He doesn't like it when he doesn't know where you are, he doesn't know when he doesn't know what you are doing, he doesn't like it if you talked to people he doesn't know personally.

He installed cameras, mics, and planted people around you that he knew he can scare into submission.

Especially now you're pregnant, he's making sure you always stayed beside him.

When did he become so twisted, from the nice, generous, and kind politician, to something like... Him?

"S-sir, the madam insisted on cooking for you!" The chef trembled out.

You were a rare type of woman who was so open to just being at home, and be the wife he needed to see every time he goes home.

He can't let you go.

Ever.

Maximus sneered and bit his nail, eyes sharp with thoughts.

"I need to drill in more thoughts into her pretty head..." Maximus grumbled.

You were already so willing just being inside the mansion, and so open to his manipulation that you weren't aware of.

He told you that you don't need to go out, that the world was a scary place for a wife like you. And that whenever you go out, you needed to be by his side.

He's already working so hard serving the city, and serving you is a bonus, and a privilege.

He's so occupied with taking care of the place both of you growing up, yet had the time, love, affection, and care to single you out and shower you with his attention. Why would you need to do anything other than serving him as his wife? That's blasphemy, and selfish.

He drilled that in your mind.

And you were so accepting of the fact too.

"If she insisted on helping in the kitchen once more, tell her 'what would sir think?', okay?" He spat out at the poor chef before suddenly smiling. "Don't tell anybody this, or else your family gets it."

He walked away with a triumphant smile and grabbed the food from the counter.

He walked towards you, and saw you scratching your cheek softly confused and scared, almost.

"What's wrong, darling?" Maximus asked, worry etched on his face as he sat down beside you.

"Oh, uh, I just..." You gave him your phone, which was ringing with the number of the exclusive nursery room designer he hired. "C-can you talk to him? I don't know what to do..."

Maximus shivered, seeing you so dependent on him.

Clueless on what to do, on what to say.

He smiled before taking the call for you, with his hand holding yours.

You didn't even start eating yet, waiting for his words to start.

His cute little wife can't even eat by herself.

How... perfect.

This was his perfect life.

With the perfect wife.

And he'll be damned if he didn't protect this.

If he didn't protect you.

So just be swayed with his words and put yourself in his palm.

He will make sure you are well taken care of, and that your pretty little brain will not hurt from thinking too much.

That's a promise.

#yandere boyfriend #yandere imagines #yandere male #yandere writing #male yandere x reader #tw yandere #yandere x darling #yandere x you #yandere fic #yandere drabbles #lizzaneiaelizalde

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obsessivelullabies · 2 months

Note

heyyy!! I was wondering if I could request a father figure Arthur Morgan with a fem! scruffy street orphan, who he found trying to steal from him? Maybe she's feisty and has no trust in him or the gang because of her background with no parents and being a kid in this era? all platonic btw <3

when you first tried stealing from arthur, he was pissed. you thought he’d kill you with how he snatched your arm, refusing to let you run off.

once arthur noticed you were just a kid, he felt bad. you’d tried to steal his gun. of course, he interrogated you. when you pathetically explained you needed something to protect yourself, he felt even worse for how angry he’d been.

he noticed how dirty your clothes were and how hungry you looked. he offered to take you back with him to his gang. when you refused, arthur followed you as you stormed off.

“you’re gonna die out there by yourself,” arthur called out to you. you knew he was right. that changed your mind.

so, arthur brought you back to camp. he promised dutch he’d watch over you. he made sure you got a warm bowl of stew and some bedding.

arthur understood you. he’d been in a similar situation as you. he never gave up on trying to help you.

arthur would try his best to earn your trust. he took his own money to buy you new clothes. he got sad watching you prance around in what was practically torn up rags.

once you trust him a little more, arthur would try to teach you how to read. you took him up on the offer. whenever he had free time, he’d help you read through children’s books.

at your request, arthur taught you how to shoot and hunt. you two would eagerly celebrate your first catch, no matter how small or puny it was.

you had plans to eventually leave the gang. yet, arthur’s constant kindness to you encouraged you to stay. he took care of you and protected you.

arthur playfully started calling you his apprentice, with how he was always teaching you something new, the title fit perfectly.

over the months, you and arthur were always together. unless he was bounty hunting or robbing, than he’d insist you stay at camp.

arthur wanted a better life for you than the life of a criminal. he tried finding someone to teach you better skills like sewing or singing. no matter what, he wanted the best life for you. almost how a father wants the best for his daughter.

masterlist! | reblogs and comments appreciated. | unedited.

#rdr2 x reader #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #platonic x reader #arthur morgan x f!reader #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader

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spider-stark · 1 year

Text

GUTS

Pairing - Peter Parker x Reader

Summary - Peter gets seriously hurt saving someones life, in the midst of panic your true feelings for him come out.

Warnings - Stabbing, blood, violence,

a/n - wow what i'm actually posting something that is WILD. anyways, i recently moved to a new apartment so for the past month my brain has been fried and i have had zero time to write. but, here is this lil blurb! and i am in the process of finishing up the next part of Infinitely You if anyone still wants to read it haha enjoy :)

// masterlist // send me your thoughts //

It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.

He had gotten hurt. Really hurt.

It was a simple carjacking, or at least it was supposed to be simple. The type of petty crime he responded to all the time.

He had been so bored, legs dangling over the side of the Empire State building when he heard the call come through over the police scanner he’d been listening to. Finally, he thought to himself, webs already shooting from his wrists as he dived off the side of the building, some entertainment.

But everything went wrong.

So fucking wrong, so quick.

There was no time to think as he saw the streetlights dance along the steel blade of the pocket-knife in the carjacker's hand, its sharp edge just milliseconds away from plunging into the innocent man’s stomach. Peter could see the man’s kid in the backseat of the car, heard his shrill screams as he banged against the window, crying for his dad.

He let adrenaline guide his actions, throwing himself in front of the blade with not a hint of hesitation, shoving the innocent man to the asphalt as steel plunged through the fabric of his suit.

There was so much blood, so much that it left him feeling dizzy. His vision went spotty, struggling to aim for the carjacker as he tried to shoot his webs at him, hoping to stop him just long enough for the police to get here.

They have to be close, he could faintly hear the sirens blaring over the sound of his own heart thumping in his ears.

But, due to a heavy hand and blurry vision, he missed. How could he miss?

The man, the one he saved, was back on his feet and rushing to comfort his son. They hadn’t seemed to notice Peter yet, notice just what he had done, how he had potentially saved that man’s life. He was thankful for it, thankful that the kid was spared the trauma of watching it happen.

Peter stumbled into the alleyway, the same one the thief had run into, but he had no intentions of chasing the criminal down. He couldn’t, not in the state he was in.

It had taken every last bit of his strength to get to your house. To get to you.

You hadn't expected Peter to come by, but then again he rarely ever gave you notice, especially for visits like this. Late nights spent with a cheap dollar store sewing kit and the skill set of someone who had a mild interest in embroidery often being the only thing that stood between Peter and certain death. You hated when he came to you like this, but you’d never say it. You’d stitch him up a thousand times, put yourself through the horrors of watching your best friend nearly bleed out over and over again if it meant that he would still be here—that he would still be alive.

But this was the closest he had ever gotten to death, just barely holding on when he came crashing through your bedroom window. He was in and out of consciousness the entire time, as you removed the knife, stitched him up, and tried to clean his blood from your carpet. You worried that you would lose him, worried that he wouldn’t wake back up. But, by some stroke of luck, your security deposit was the only thing you lost that night.

Still, it was different this time. His super-healing had kicked in once he was awake, the blood beginning to clot and stop leaking out from your amaetuer stitch job. But you couldn’t shake that feeling, the terror and anxiety that consumed you when you had to come face-to-face with the idea of losing Spider-Man. Of losing Peter Parker.

He thought it was a fever dream. The thought of infection setting in to his fresh stab-wound much easier to believe than the possibility of his best friend, the girl of his dreams, suddenly leaning in and kissing him. But it wasn’t a dream, wasn’t his mind playing cruel tricks on him. You were here, right in front of him, your lips desperately moving against his own and your fingers getting tangled in his dark hair.

So many times he had dreamt of this. Dreamt of crossing the line between just friends and something more, a line that the two of you had been balancing on for years now. He always hoped that one day he would spill his guts to you, but had never quite expected to almost literally spill his guts to you, and certainly wouldn’t have expected it to end like this.

He was breathless when you pulled away, and he finally realized that he hadn’t even kissed you back, too lost in his own mind. “Wha-why?”

“I don’t want to lose you.”

It was a desperate answer to a desperate question, a single beat of silence passing before you followed it up, doubling down on the statement.

“I can’t fucking lose you.”

Peter’s already shallow breath caught in his throat, butterflies erupting in his stomach (or maybe it was just pain from his newly sustained stab wound, though he found butterflies to be far more romantic).

“You won’t.” He breathed out the promise, both of you unsure of whether or not it was one he could actually keep, though neither of you cared at this moment. Because for now he was here, he was alive, and he was finally yours.

It wasn’t supposed to happen like this, but he didn’t care so long as it meant you would kiss him again.

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devildom-moss · 3 months

Note

!!! OPEN REQUESTS YEAHH!! Okay so because I'm an absolute bitch for religious guilt - could I request Raphael having to tap out during his first time having sex with MC? Like he thought he was ready but it very quickly becomes apparent that He Is Not.

Eons later, but I hope you will like this one anon. I had fun with it once I really got into it. Please excuse if the end feels a little abrupt though. There is a little bit of hand stuff, and I really tried to work in that religious guilt as best as I could. Enjoy~ also what? I'm giving it a title??

Absolution

(Raphael x gn!MC)

(NSFW) (no sex, heavy petting, check-ins, heavy religious guilt, stopping after foreplay, revoked consent)

Word Count: +2,300

Raphael’s restraint was a great creature he had crafted beautifully with something mythic to its strength. Even in his merciless rain of spears, he had always held himself back. That was, in his mind, one of his virtues: a holy skill he had mastered more artfully than most. He was not void of temptation, but Raphael practiced a strict divine denial.

Yet now that you were finally alone in his room, Raphael struggled to suppress his need. He had so seldom wanted the touch of another angel – let alone from someone as forbidden as a human. But with you, the feeling that spread through his body was stronger than “want.” It ached and burned. Perhaps, Raphael figured, that was what he deserved for the intensity of his lust and the depth of his longing; it was all so sinful, the way his mind traced the outline of your body hundreds of times before his fingertips ever dared to, so perhaps he had earned this painful, convoluted desire.

“Why did you bring me here?” you asked him nervously – careful not to get your hopes too high. Scanning the room, you could tell he had cleaned since Simeon’s last lament about the state of Raphael’s and Solomon’s living conditions. There were still sewing supplies in odd corners with random scraps, bobbins, and assorted tools adorning nearly every surface, excluding a chair and his bed. You had hoped that focusing on his room would distract you from a delusional desire: that Raphael had dragged you into his room to finally fuck you. Or, at least, it would have been delusional had he not been staring at you in a way that sent shivers up your spine as your eyes landed on his soft face.

“You’re so enticing.” Raphael’s words hung in the air. His hands reached for you, barely grazing the skin on your forearms as he dragged his fingertips down to your wrist and traced over your hands. In Raphael’s cautious mind, you were molded perfectly, and if he touched you with the force of his desire, he might change your shape forever. He knew an angel should never interfere with the lives of humans. Certainly then, that meant he could never touch your body in the lecherous ways he wanted to.

It seemed he was blind to his own allure, even as you were drawn into him by his pure blue eyes. You tried to make it chaste when you kissed him, smothering the wanton black hole in the pit of your stomach that threatened to consume you both. The sudden warmth of your body spread through Raphael. Even the sunlight that kissed his skin in the Celestial Realm could not compare.

His cheeks burned, and he felt that he might combust and be cast from the heavens for indulging in the simple pleasure of your body. Yet he pushed and pulled for more, dragging you towards his bed as his lips continued to move against yours in a heated frenzy. You toppled over him with the wanting grace of a human, pressing his shoulders deeper into the mattress as you tried to steady yourself.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t expect you to pull me into your bed so suddenly,” you laughed sheepishly to distract from your racing pulse. Raphael rarely kissed you like that – like he wanted you more than words could ever say. It flustered you in the way that one who does not voice their desires might be fazed when handed exactly what they silently hoped for – a combination of embarrassment, surprise, and delight.

“I don’t mind.” He was as serious as ever despite the faint pink flush on his cheeks. Perhaps that made you all the more hopeful. Raphael stared up at you with an equal desire. “Keep going.”

Following his request, you slid your hands from his shoulders, down his arms, and took hold of his hands, intertwining your fingers and pinning him on either side of his head. He let you take the lead, leaning down to capture his lips in another desperate kiss.

In a way, Raphael believed that if he let you take control, he could take less accountability for his lust. He was simply following your movements, bending to your desire. You could reshape him however you pleased if it meant he could have you. Maybe it would be okay for you to touch him. Maybe he could be forgiven if you used him.

You kissed down his neck, your breath tickling his skin. As much as you riled him up, Raphael restrained his voice and stayed quiet – save the sharp inhale when you bit him and the trembling of his breath afterwards.

“Are you okay?” you asked, pulling away before you had the opportunity to properly mark him. His willful silence – that awful habit of subduing himself – left you wondering if he was enjoying the feeling of your lips on his skin.

“I’m alright.” Raphael smiled up at you softly, panting slightly. “It feels nice. Your mouth is so warm.”

His admission sounded sweet and compliant – as if his silence was due to a lust-filled daze that had engulfed him. He looked so cute with that glazed over sheen in his eyes. “Can I touch you more?”

“I think –” Raphael started, “I’d like that.”

You let go of one of his hands to slide your fingers up his exposed abdomen, sneaking them just under the hem of his top. He shuddered at your touch. A faint blush rose on his cheeks, and he stared up at you, eyes hazy and lidded and more overcome with pleasure than before.

Beneath the thin fabric of his shirt, your middle finger danced gently over his heart before you dipped down to kiss him again. Raphael melted against you, kissing back greedily. He could barely taste you with his dulled tongue, and yet he craved more. Even your subtle flavor burned in his mouth, but it wasn’t enough for him. The sheets crumpled in his free hand from growing frustration. Would a weaker angel have caved in and touched you? Would a stronger one resist you harder – never finding themselves in this position under you? Would they have felt the pull less like that of a black hole? Perhaps like a star? Perhaps you would not even be a heavenly body. Perhaps to a stronger angel, you were nothing, with no pull of your own.

As you brushed your thumb over his nipple and deepened the kiss, you earned a low groan – as if Raphael was shocked by the sudden pleasure. No one had dared tease this celestial body before you. He would never allow it.

When you pulled back, he was panting and flushed in an erotic daze unfitting for an angel. Your name left him in a whine, “MC. More.”

His free hand slid up your neck, and he pulled you back to him, crashing his lips against yours. As waves hit the shore in a growing storm, the pleasure washed over him and threatened to pull him under. He grew more desperate and eager. He had already laid his hand upon your body. It would be a shame to stop.

You pulled the occasional whimper from his chest between heavy panting and the sound of your fervent kissing. When Raphael broke the kiss, you refused to take the time to catch your breath and, instead, dipped down to kiss up his sternum, pushing his top up as you did. He moaned softly under every brushstroke of your lips.

Somehow, your wariness had not left, ran hiding at the prospect of having such a beautiful, deadly creature in your grasp. You knew you’d never gotten this far with him before. You wanted to tread lightly, but your caution only tormented Raphael. He wanted you to take him before he could think about it – before the guilt could consume him faster than the pleasure.

“Take your shirt off,” he demanded. “I want to see you.”

You let go of him, counting the scarce seconds it took to discard the shirt, tossing it – unintentionally – in a heap of its fabric relatives. It took six seconds before your hand was re-laced with his. Raphael followed where your hands connected, up your arm, and over your chest. He admired every inch like you were a saintly statue, suddenly immovably beautiful. No matter how he touched your body, you were incorruptible.

“Let me take care of you,” you whispered, sounding like some benevolent saint, in Raphael’s ear. Your hand slid down his chest to the bulge in his pants. He had been so focused on the feeling of your touch – every burn caused by those beloved fingertips – that he had hardly noticed how much you affected him until you brought him to attention. Raphael keened when you caressed him, overcome by the intensity, the sharp pleasure – a lament for his own innocence. It was the loudest declaration you had received from him, and it was a mess of anxious rapture. You stopped in surprise. “Are you alright? We can stop if –”

“No. Don’t,” Raphael cut you off. His eyes were damp with unshed tears. “I can take it. Please?”

To whom he was begging, he did not know. Was it to you, whose affection had ensnared him in sin? Was it to his maker, to allow him this simple ecstasy – to reward his centuries of faithful resolve? Was it to himself – one last plea for the return of his restraint? Was it to his weakness, to overcome his fear and bless him with one sacred union?

“If you want to stop,” you bit your hope back to reassure him, “just say the word.”

“Touch me. I want it,” he insisted – still half to himself.

With the sweet, needy look on his face, you didn’t need much convincing. You undid his pants and released his aching cock. Raphael shut his eyes tight, unable to bare the tenderness in your eyes as you stroked him slowly. He had never felt pleasure like this before. The room spun and seemed to dissolve into the ether.

“I’m going to use my mouth now, okay?” you warned him, kissing down his pelvis.

“Wait!” Raphael’s eyes shot open, and he squeezed your hand desperately. “Don’t. I’ll. . . I can’t.”

You sat up quickly and watched as he covered his eyes with his arm, coveting a place to hide his shame – somewhere no one could find it. He hoped to hide where he would not be marked by your touch nor stained with your scent. Or better yet, he wanted these acts to not debase him so. Raphael felt dirty and impure – a disgrace of a seraph that, he expected, would unfurl tainted wings had he dared to test his own sanctity. I’m an angel, he reassured himself, I couldn’t spill into their mouth like some depraved creature. One could touch a perfectly sculpted statue and it would remain, but to paint it – even with angelic fluid – would be an affront to your creator. And suddenly, he worried, What would Michael think?

It was clear that he wasn’t ready. You got off him, but when you tried to remove your hand from his, he tightened his grip and refused to let go. Confused about how much distance would comfort him, you rolled over on your back next to Raphael and inched closer without ever touching him – except through the single point of contact he had clung to. From there, he could feel your warmth without rapidly colliding with your body, resulting in his sole disastrous ruin. He stared up at the ceiling, and your eyes followed his as if he had guided you to face the heavens with him and repent.

“I’m sorry. Forgive me.” Raphael whispered so quietly that you doubted yourself.

“Are you asking me. . . or Him?”

“Both, I think.” Raphael managed a rueful smile, the corner of which you caught in your periphery.

“Well,” you mimicked his mournful look, “I can’t speak for God, but, it’s okay.”

“I wanted to, but. . .” he trailed off, grasping for something to justify himself – anything that would rectify him, even under the many scrutinizing eyes of the Celestial Realm.

“It’s okay,” you reassured.

“But it’s not. I’ve sinned. My thoughts betray me when I’m around you.”

“Oh.” That was all you could offer – a guilty sacrifice of a syllable that was as empty and baseless as compassion could be. You wished you had more to give.

“But I don’t want to be apart from you.” You were appeased.

“I don’t want to be apart from you, either.”

Raphael turned to you, eyes damp and pleading but still burning. He spoke just above a whisper, “I want absolution.”

“What?” You turned to him with your eyes narrowed. “From me?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t know how to give you that. I’m not a priest, and you’re an angel. What do I even say?” His request flustered you terribly. He may as well have asked you to bear responsibility for his own fall. He adored you, and it was all your fault. Only you could sanctify him again, but you had no clue how. “I forgive you. Is that enough?”

“Can you kiss my hand?” he asked you sweetly.

You reached over to take his other hand in yours and brought them both up to your lips. “I forgive you.”

You placed another kiss on his hands. It was a crude, informal cleansing – vulgar in its execution and in the rush of thoughts it inspired that flooded Raphael’s mind. And yet, he felt himself purified and restored to glory. So sweet was your vindication that he would risk himself anew.

“I may be tempted again,” he admitted. “Would you wait for me and absolve me once more when it’s over?”

#requests #ask #anon #spice tier #gn!mc #raphael #obey me #obey me raphael #raphael smut #raphael x reader #raphael x mc

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crystal-multifandom-now · 2 years

Text

The Hunter's pleasure, A Jacob Holland x Reader Smut

Author's Note: For 18+ only.

Disclaimer: This is an attempted “smut” fanfic story so this might be a different kind of Jacob Holland from the movie but still about Jacob Holland. Yeah.

——————————————————————————

Another day at the sea, another hunt to take.

Live a great life. Die a great death.

That's what you read in the book about the Inevitable and that's what you hear from one of Jacob's speeches as he tries to lift his crewmates' spirits.

But it doesn't mean you have to be reckless on your life too, you thought as you think about the times that Jacob would come to your cabin to help with his wounds if the physician was too occupied to treat the other crew.

You'd sigh and give him sarcastic comments as you probe his entire upper body for signs of wounds.

You'd blush at the sight of him undressing his dirty white shirt and admire his build. You'd try to control every inch of your being from giving away your expression of like and lust towards him. You'd control your thoughts as you touch his skin, carefully not trying to be seductive with your touch. You'd try to stop the urge from kissing him when your faces get close to each other.

That was it. You tried. You controlled yourself until he leaves the room and gives you a long look, tries to say something but didn't continue on, and just showed a smile of gratitude as he left and closed your door. You weren't certain what he wanted to say nor the meaning of his long look but you were certain, in a way, by looking at his eye that he doesn't want to leave yet.

That was the last time he tried to ask for your help in sewing him up. Since then. the physician became less busy as the crew seemed to improve with their hunting skills too. There were becoming fewer injuries to tend to. It was relieving but you also missed those moments where you and Jacob can be alone and him being half naked.

You plumped down from the edge of your bed, covering your face with both of your hands, and heaved a sigh as if you'd like to stop your thoughts out of frustration. Then suddenly you heard a knock on your cabin door then it opened and in came Jacob Holland.

Bollocks. Why is he as dashing and handsome as ever? you thought out of frustration.

"What now, Jacob?"

"Was hoping you could help stitch this up?"

Jacob pointed to his bleeding left forehead.

"It stings."

"Oh, and you want to cry on my lap?" you teased sarcastically as always and as always Jacob would smirk and chuckle it off then comes to you slowly, waiting for your instructions.

You crossed your arms and squint your eyes out of suspicion.

"Shouldn't you go to the physician? I know he's not as busy as the past hunts were."

He looks to his side, avoiding your gaze.

"Well, I thought this was a great excuse to come visit you privately."

"Whatever you mean by that, Jacob?"

"I..." Jacob couldn't continue.

"Save your words for later, your wound's bleed'n fast. Sit on the chair."

He sits on the chair you pointed at. You prepared your tools and approach him.

This time you don't get to see him half naked, it was only a forehead wound but you were still glad to see him again in a private matter.

You touch his chin, trying to raise his head up and to the side so you can see his wound clearly. It was quite a long tear but it's manageable for you to sew. You tried to position yourself well in front of him so you could stitch him properly but you also felt uncomfortable in the distance your arms has to stretch. You tried to stand on his left side and it was still uncomfortable since you use your right hand to do the stitching.

"Having trouble, love?"

"I- aye, admittingly. It's my first trying to stitch up someone's forehead. That's why I insist you going to the physician."

"Not to worry, love. Best to finish what you started. Why don't you try sitting here, if it's okay with you?"

Jacob patted his right muscly lap as he makes his suggestion.

You stared at his lap then to his eyes and gulped.

Control. Control. Control yourself. you warned to yourself.

"Don't mind if I do, otherwise, no one else is gonna stitch it up for you," you said with a teasing tone.

Jacob chuckled and help guide your body to properly sit on his lap.

You felt something inside you stir up as he tries to hold your waist but it quickly disappeared as he let go of his hold. You felt quite disappointed at the moment but then you turn your focus back on his forehead wound and stitch it up since it was comfortable enough to sew already.

As you do your job, you can't help but feel that Jacob is staring at you. You'd somehow steal some few glances on his face as well then to his lips. Oh how much you yearn to kiss those.

You try to finish your stitching as fast as you can so you can get away from him immediately and as you did then cover his wound with a bandage...

"You're beautiful."

You look at him, intensely. His handsome face was lustrously lit by the light of the lamp. His eyes lustily look at you and then to your lips.

"Jacob..." you whispered his name as his face gets closer to yours.

"Y/N, love." Jacob whispers as he starts to close his eyes. His lips closes into yours.

He kissed you passionately, giving you time, but you gave in and hungrily kiss him. Feeling his lips, mouth, his tongue. You caressed the back of his head and pull him even more closer to you to kiss you hungrily than in a passionate way.

You didn't want him to give you time. You want to relieve your control towards him. You want him to feel you, consume you.

Your kisses of hunger, love, and lust continued on until both of you stand and move to your bed.

He takes his shirt off, revealing his beautiful build with scars. Scars you want to caress and kiss as if it can help ease the pain away. But you just touched his chest, seductively caressing it up and down, and stared at his eyes with love and lust.

Jacob kissed you immediately, consuming you, caressing your shoulders to your chest then to your hips. He moves his lips down to your neck, kissing and licking it making you feel more aroused.

You didn't expect him to be this good and hungrily intimate for you.

Jacob then lifts up your shirt, revealing your breasts to him.

"Truly beautiful, Y/N." Jacob huskily whispers as he immediately kisses you after admiring the sight of you being half naked.

He lays you down carefully on your bed and continues to kiss you on your lips, seductively down to your neck, then to your breast gently caressing and licking your nipples. Making you moan for his name.

"Jacob."

He continued down to your belly and seductively took of your trousers, eyes lustfully staring at you and seductively smirking as he successfully removes all the clothes covering your whole body.

You were fully naked for Jacob to see now and he loved every inch of your sight.

Both of your breaths were heavy to hear and you couldn't think straight because of the pleasure you felt.

"My turn, love." Jacob huskily remarked.

You look at him straight in the eye and listened intently as he talks and kisses at the same time on your inner thighs.

"My turn to see you naked. My turn to touch your skin. My turn to lose control."

"Jacob" you moaned as you arch your back on the pleasure of his kisses.

“Aye, love.” Jacob huskily whispers as his breath tickles your clit. He licks it and moves his way down letting his nose tease your clit and his tongue pleasuring you on the inside.

He looks at you as he does it and smirks as he sees your pleasurable expression. Of course, his intention was to bring you pleasure and he'll do so without stopping.

He goes on with it. Licking, kissing, mouthing you whole. On and on and on with gentleness, hunger, and passion. Hearing you moan, saying his name, grabbing his hair, and moving your hips with the momentum of his mouth would only motivate Jacob Holland to do it more and fast.

“Jacob. Jacob I’m goin to- “

Hearing that didn’t make Jacob stop what he was doing because he wants you to feel it. Feeling the pleasure till the end.

You’re nearing to your orgasm as he goes on and on until you finally reach it, moaning even louder and shouting his name louder.

Jacob gave a final lick and kiss to your pussy then reached to your lips and gave a passionate kiss.

“You were great, love, every inch of you and your moans. I love it all.”

You giggled happily as he says those words.

“You’re not as bad as I expected.”

“Whatever do you mean, Y/N?”

You caressed his left cheek and checked on his wound, thankfully it wasn’t bleeding, then stared to his eyes, lovingly.

“I mean that you were amazing and I’ll have me turn in control next time.”

Jacob also giggled happily at your response and passionately kissed you again.

“I’ll look forward to it, love.”

He then positioned himself beside you.

Both of you cuddled on bed. You caressed his wonderful broad chest with scars and Jacob caresses your shoulder.

Both of you took your time listening to the crash of waves and your breaths until the both of you slowly drifted yourselves to sleep, happily cuddling with each other knowing finally that both of you feel the same way.

#jacob holland #jacob holland x reader #sea beast fanfic #sea beast #Jacob Holland Smut #Jacob Holland

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glitteryinknotes · 7 months

Text

Skills I believe Astarion possesses that deserve appreciation, other than embroidery and perfume making

• Embroidery & sewing is one thing, but generally everything, and I do mean everything related to keeping your clothes & footwear in best possible condition. Tav's boots' heels have worn down? Of course he knows how to repair them, how could he not. Tav has foolishly ruined her favourite dress with something banal, like grass, wine or berry juice (or blood)? This man KNOWS how to get the stains off with the most basic methods, he's been forced to learn how to keep himself perfectly presentable from all the angles with anything that fell into his hands. He would never willingly share how good he is at this, he wants to think of himself as above such things now - but once he offers Tav to help with something so mundane, he'd be happy to keep doing it whenever the need arises. At least there's something he can do for his sweet Tav they genuinely appreciate that has nothing to do with sex.

• Same goes for making by hand every possible item providing any kind of physical comfort. Sewing & stuffing a simple pillow? Of course. Cazadorr wouldn't give a thought to how his abused pets sleep in the kennels, but to a vampire spawn who somehow managed to get their hands on some fabric, feathers and a needle while keeping it secret from the master? It makes all the difference in the world if instead of resting their head against a cold, dirty floor or a stinking, decaying floor mat, they can find a tiniest scrap of comfort in a thin yet soft pillow. A blanket - perhaps sewn from scraps of different materials, uneven, thin and alltogether unnecessary, they're vampires, their bodies are cold as ice - and yet something so human, so personal, so comforting.

• Basic medical skills. He's no trained healer, but he knows how to clean, patch up, dress and salve wounds - like those from a harsh lashing, because Gods know, neither Cazadorr nor Godey limited themselves in their craze to the areas on the spawns' bodies that can easily bo covered not to alarm the unsuspecting targets. Again, once the ice between him and Tav melts - he'd be happy to take care of Tav after a fight. They're his, his to hold, his to keep and his to care for when he's able to, as long as they don't require more advanced healing, it's his job to make sure they're all right and no one's denying him that.

#baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate astarion #astarion #baldurs gate astarion #baldur's gate 3 astarion #bg3 #astarion bg3 #bg3 astarion #astarion headcanons

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crookedkryptonitebeliever · 3 months

Note

How does Yves celebrate our birthday?

(P.S. thank you for the delicious content!)

However you want to celebrate. It could be as simple as having you make a wish and blow the candle out on the succulent birthday cake in the solitude of his living room, or as grand as a ballroom party where you invite all your friends and families, you get to dance in the most intricate dresses and suits made by his own skilled hands.

You would think that he commissioned the world's best fashion designer to create your outfits, but it was all himself after months of preparation. Yves would painstakingly hand sew every sequin, every bead, and it's this level of detail that makes your dress stand out.

Yves would work with teams of event managers and certified professional hires to facilitate your birthday. He would lead, even having a hand in the kitchen. He creates the menu and ensures that everyone he hired has the same faces throughout, because training starts a year prior to your big day. He remembers everyone's names, everyone's probability of making mistakes and ability to handle a variety of strange and unlikely scenarios.

His staff members would be confused and terrified as to why Yves has protocols if an armed intruder were to crash the party. Each person has their designated evacuation sites and roles to keep you, the guests and themselves safe. Most would already decide to back out after he handed them a thick booklet that details all the programmes happening on the day and all the potential scenarios they might face. Yves has his lawyers present with briefcases of waivers, NDAs and other binding contracts.

They thought that he was some sort of dangerous figure, better not involve themselves into something that they're going to regret. No pay is high enough to compromise their safety. But those who stuck around for years realized that he's just an extremely careful man who loves his darling to death.

The bomb-diffusing classes he required them to take were never put to use, they never once had to use a firearm to protect themselves and the guests, they never had to apprehend anyone who tried poisoning the food and the intensive first aid, toxin control and chemical dossiers they had to memorize by heart wasn't too useful. At most, they just had to deal with minor scrapes and burns in the kitchen. It's just a normal, lavish birthday party with friendly faces. Where the special birthday person is just a civilian who Yves spoils rotten.

He has over two hundred members, yet he knows the details of every single one. Even if two had the same name, he knows which is which. Yves remembers and they know that, which added more pressure on their shoulders. It always freaked them out when Yves caught them slacking off and he called them by their full name, with perfect pronunciation no matter how ethnic.

They cannot trick him into thinking they're supposed to be on break. There are numerous other employees, there is no way he remembers the roster for the day, right? Wrong, he was the one who made the schedules after all. And that unnerves them, he's just like a machine!

However, they appreciate being seen and valued individually. They're not just another tool to him, they're human with their own specific strengths, weaknesses and Yves sees that. It in turn motivates them to do their best. That, and the fact they cannot worm their way out of trouble at all. Reward and fear go hand in hand.

While he prepares for the biggest annual event 12 months prior, Yves somehow managed to spend enough time with you without raising suspicions of the surprise. Of course, you know it is going to be outstanding every year, you just don't know the true magnitude of preparation conducted by Yves.

On the day of your celebration, Yves would be in the kitchen, cooking your meals. It's going to follow the same menu he and the other senior chefs crafted, but yours is a lot more personalized- salted, sweetened or spiced to your liking. The rest of his kitchen staff focused on massive batch production to cater to potentially thousands of attendees.

Only Yves would be allowed to do your makeup and hair. You wouldn't want anyone else anyways, they couldn't compare to his skills and his knowledge of what you're trying to go for.

You spend the entire day being praised, loved and revered on stage. Yves standing by your side at all times as his entertainment team facilitates the event.

Dozens of photographers capture every angle of the happiest possible moments. His personal hidden video cameras running and feeding data back to his vault in real time.

You get to eat with the group of people you cared for the most, or if you rather eat with him alone, he will also humor you.

In the end, you would go home exhausted but happy. He will take care of you; by preparing a fresh set of comfortable clothes while you take a shower. If there's something particularly difficult to remove, such as hairspray or silicone prosthetics, he will help you with no complaints. The mess is left to Yves's loyal team to clean up.

He will give his employees a week to recoup before jumping right back into planning for your next birthday. Yves has to rent a moving truck every year just to transport all your presents from the ballroom to his home.

Or, perhaps you think that's an overwhelming way to celebrate another year of being alive. Maybe you wanted a gathering, but in a much smaller scale.

Then, he would host a party at his house. Yves will be in charge of the food, the decor and the activities. You don't have to lift a single finger, a number of his hires would also be involved, just that you wouldn't see them around. Yves tried working with your friends and families for the surprise, but their intent mostly doesn't align his. It's either that they're grossly wrong in thinking what you really wanted, they're trying to put the spotlight on themselves or they just don't take it as seriously as they should.

You would notice on your special day, his living room looked quite different from what you're used to. His gothic flair wasn't as pronounced, anything fragile was hidden and all other doors aside from the kitchen's and the bathroom's are locked shut.

Colourful banners, posters and ribbons that fit the theme you wanted decorated the walls, inflated balloons made the place lively and there was constant upbeat background music playing.

He provides extra seating, there is a zone just for children and teenagers with a plethora of toys, gadgets, game consoles, books and art materials. He brought in a couple of his team members who he knows work great with children to supervise the area. Yves made it as appealing as possible to people who tend to be disruptive when bored (usually ages 16 and below), so that they would stay contained there and not interrupt the 'adults'.

If some happened to breach containment, he would send his handlers a death glare for not doing a good enough job as he guided them back into the room.

But otherwise, Yves would be going in and out of the kitchen, holding trays of homemade food. He allows you to mingle with your guests, even those who are in the wretched "zone". Yves will begrudgingly step foot inside just to be with you, everyone felt the horrifying aura emanating from him though.

The children would play with you, but avoid Yves like the plague.

He would fix your plate of food for you, filling your cup with your favourite drink when it's empty and generally babying you. Yves wants you to enjoy the day, to forget that report deadline, your exams or that urgent email. He is going to handle it.

Just tell him whenever you're tired, he will drive everyone out of his house in his own polite, manipulative, reality bending way almost instantly.

You could either spend the day opening gifts or taking a nap. Yves is simply happy you had a good time.

Or,

You perhaps prefer a much smaller audience to please. A dinner with your friends or family at a nice, trusted restaurant, a maximum of 10 guests. In all three scenarios, Yves must bake the cake and help you dress up. He is the only one you trust to do so.

Yves would send out the invitations to them, deeply observing their life so that he could ensure they're coming. It would mean the world to you for them to attend, he doesn't want to see you disappointed.

The week leading up to your special day, he will do everything in his power to clear their schedules for you, be it from sabotaging their romantic relationships so they wouldn't abandon your little gathering for date nights, to slipping subconscious reminders to take their medications so they wouldn't be too depressed, anxious or psychotic to come, to poisoning their lecturers so they would have an extended deadline for their assignments, to intercepting the news of their dead relative first, so they wouldn't go to their funeral or mourn on that day, to calling them and dishing out insane guilt trips and/or threats.

The effort was all worth it to see your gleeful face smiling at the full attendance.

Of course, this is all paid by Yves. At the end of the day, you would come back home a year older with a full heart and stomach. Your guests would come home to clean up the mess Yves made in order to make them show up.

Or,

You don't want anyone else. You just want him to be there with you on your birthday. And you wanted to be involved in the process.

He will be more than happy to set up a romantic candle lit dinner at home, cooking a delicious, well portioned meal for two. He follows whatever tradition you're used to doing well.

You will receive a present from Yves, usually it's something you desperately yearned for, but never told anyone. It's fascinatingly eerie how he could figure it out every year.

You could pipe icing onto the cake you and him baked earlier. Laughing at the lopsidedness of your handicrafts while Yves kisses you on the temple for helping him in the kitchen.

It wouldn't be as grand, as flashy or as lively as the first two. Not by a long shot.

It's quiet, peaceful and sweet. But never lonely or empty.

As Yves is right there with you, teaching you how to hold a piping bag correctly. A pint of handmade icing wasted later, you managed your first successful border.

He hugged you from behind and praised your abilities. You melted into his touch as he pressed his lips on the top of your head.

The two of you shared a slice, because you were stuffed from the main course. Anyone could tell that the edible decor was made by someone inexperienced. But Yves didn't care, neither should you.

It's your birthday, and you get to decide how to celebrate it.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere oc #yandere male #yandere concept #tw yandere #yandere x you #yandere oc x reader #male yandere oc x reader #oc yves

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aro-culture-is · 11 months

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Aro culture is being asked about your life goals on your job application and just wondering what you even put there because like, it wouldn't be relevant at all to the description and I don't want to just. Work at this place for the rest of my life. So like. What do I even put?

genuine answer:

look at it from the POV of the employer and not your actual life

for example, for someone working in customer service, they might be looking for personality traits and goals that involve you not leaving within the time period they consider their "investment" in training you to have not yet been fully paid off. Most "inexperienced" jobs are looking for a minimum of a month, but most likely they'd really prefer 3 months + a possibility you'll return if the job is seasonal (ie, a summer job to pay for college), or 6 months to a year in any other type of position. Add more time if you are part-time.

so, for example, say you're in schooling of some sort: you'll want to emphasize that you're looking to make money to help pay for schooling expenses while working towards getting a degree. If your degree is in anything but fine arts, you probably can list it; if it's in fine arts and not relevant to the job - rip my dude, lie and evade. you're still deciding, you're taking gen eds at the moment and like [these courses], anything. the idea is to show that you want a job and hours for a reason that shows you have drive/motivation. fine arts, despite being absolutely grueling degrees that absolutely fucking require more work imho as an engineering major than most majors, are just super devalued by a lot of folks.

if you're in a non-schooling period of life: try to lay out something that shows you're a motivated, practical, or in some way capitalistically "valuable" type of person. do not force yourself to be totally truthful. say whatever will get u the job that u can bullshit. "I'm looking to pay the bills" is probably not the best - spin it so that you show some sort of hobbies, volunteer work, community work, anything that teaches on personality. just do what u gotta to sound like you have something you do other than work and sleep, most of the time they just wanna get a read on you having passion and some sorta drive for something. probs don't mention caregiving for elderly or children though - some hiring managers are trained to look at that as a detriment, since it means you could more easily be called away for emergencies/urgent situations.

there's a lot of advice about like. using the direct words from the job description in these things, but imho i'd be careful. it can get u through automated computer checks, but a real person is probs gonna be like "cool but like. who tf are you." try to think about what/who will see it

some specific examples: "I plan to graduate with a degree in engineering and work in providing industrial solutions." / "I want to be able to spend time working with local gardening groups to make a community garden." / "I hope to further my skills in sewing so that I can make and mend my own clothing."

again: show passion, dedication, and knowledge/skills when possible. if you can find something relating to the position, that's usually best, but... sometimes you just gotta show that you're not reading off "10 best interview answers" and that you're a real person who cares about something. whatever it is, be prepared to get some basic questions/comments like, "Your application says you have an interest in gardening - can you tell me about that?" and respond with 2-3 sentences at a layman level. ie, "I've always enjoyed hands-on work, and it's always wonderful to see my plants thrive from seed to fruiting. I grow tomatoes, and my wife and I can our own tomato sauce each year. I'm hoping to grow peppers next year so we can make our own salsa." I've bolded things that would tell an employer things I think they'd like to hear - you like hands on work, you reliably do a fairly hands-on task without it being a requirement, and you have plans for improvement.

Genuine note though: I'm 23 and currently a barista at a local-ish coffee chain, due to dropping out of engineering as a result of developing a disabling chronic illness. Your mileage may vary; try to think "If someone had trained me to be the most discriminatory, law-avoiding asshole I could be while hiring someone, what is the best and worst I could read from this?". Don't disclose specifics on your personal life around children, elderly parents/grandparents that live with you, plans for future children, disabilities, anti-capitalist leanings, or any political opinions that don't specifically align with the company's expressed home-page level values. Like, if you had to click a button off of their front page on their website to find "we value diversity", try to not to say "I sell queer merchandise" as much as "I run a small online store in my spare time, with merchandise like pins and stickers."

#Anonymous #aro culture is #aro #aromantic #actually aro #actually aromantic #ask #mod alexander #long post

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jupyt3r · 3 months

Text

Green

Set during Act 2. Karlach needs help fixing her teddy bear and wants to air some grievances about Astarion's deal with Raphael.

He smells hot leather before he smells her blood. As if he needs either to detect her approach; she has the loudest footsteps of any of them. But soon the scent wafts verdantly in through the pinned flap of his tent, bright, grassy, and puckering. Citrus and something young and vegetal, intermingled with the tang of the infernal iron that drives it all. Completely antithetical to the tiefling’s fiery appearance: green.

Karlach clasps her hands behind her back and squats in front of the opening, blocking the heat of the fire he had been basking in. Annoyed, Astarion lays the book he's reading across his chest and looks quizzically at her.

“Hey, fangs! Oh–” she says, noticing his book, "Sorry, am I bothering you?”

"Yes.”

"Haha! You're a funny one. Anyway, um. Listen, I was wondering if you could do me a solid? Tav tells me you're not bad with a needle. Not surprising, I guess, given your propensity for pointy objects."

How could Tav have– Oh . His underwear . Well. Ignoring the means by which his embroidery skill had been revealed, Astarion raises one silver eyebrow at Karlach, bidding her to continue.

“Okay. Promise not to laugh. But do you think you can fix him?" From behind her back, she produces a threadbare stuffed toy; a bear. It's made from a thick-weighted brown knit, worn fuzzy with age, and has two glossy black buttons sewn in for eyes. The lighter colored thread used to attach them gives the impression of Xs for pupils, a dead-eyed stare, which is accurate enough to its current condition: there is a large tear partially beheading the beast, its stuffing leaking out the busted seam.

"His name is Clive,” she says morosely. Clive and Karlach turn their pleading glances on him, and Astarion can't decide who looks more pitiful.

“Where did you even get that thing?"

“I found him," she declares proudly, holding it aloft. "He got left behind in my room at Last Light; all alone, poor little bugger. So I nicked him. Figured his last friend might not be coming back any time soon.”

“Looks like it might have been better off where it was. What happened?"

She rubs at the back of her neck sheepishly. "Well, now that I won't burn him, I was. You know. Hugging him. And then Scratch walked up and wanted to play, and– Scratch is so soft , did you know?– so I was teasing him, which probably wasn't the nicest thing to do to either of them, and Scratch is really fast. And unfortunately for Clive, Scratch’s teeth aren't as soft as the rest of him." She lets out a nervous laugh. "So do you think, maybe, you could help him out?”

“I could ," he replies, propping himself up on an elbow. "I'm just not sure that's the best use of our resources while we're stuck in this… accursed wasteland. And I'm tired of cleaning up that mutt’s messes."

Karlach’s eyes shine beseechingly, lower lip jutting out. Clive bobbles miserably. Astarion grimaces, sits up, and abruptly snatches him from her hands.

"Yay! Thanks, fangs!”

He sighs, digging through his pack for his sewing kit. This is stupid. He's getting a new slash in his overclothes damn near every day, and he doesn't have the materials to spare on a toy .

And yet.

He's not able to find a similar colored thread. “Red is the closest I have," he says, crossing his legs and threading the needle through with crimson.

“That's okay. He'll have a bit of a rugged look– a cool neck scar, like someone else I know."

Astarion frowns and glances up at her. " ‘ Rugged ’ isn't exactly the image I strive to portray.”

“Oh. No, I know. I just meant your scars look cool," she clarifies awkwardly. Somehow, he doesn't think she's talking about the ones on his neck.

Earlier that day, when they'd set out from Last Light, a certain infernal visitor had been waiting in the parlor. Raphael had stripped him bare with a snap of his clawed fingers, revealing the malevolent latticework of scars encircling his back to the entire room. The whole thing had been rather violating– hence why he’s hiding in his tent instead of soaking up the heat from the fire. He curls in on himself and pierces the soft yarn through.

He's quiet as he works, deftly stitching the fabric together as he presses the bear's innards back where they belong. Karlach doesn't seem to know how to cope with silence, bouncing a leg with pent energy, practically sizzling like water boiling in a pot. Eventually, she spills over.

“So how did you get so good at that?" She peers in closer from where she's settled at the threshold of his tent, observing the fine needlework.

He pulls the needle high, closing a stitch. “I've picked up a lot of little skills over the last few centuries. This one has been particularly useful."

“Huh. I always figured you had a tailor or something, with your whole Upper City accent and, well, everything. Who knew you could get your hands dirty.”

The problem is that she really has no idea how dirty they are- or, rather, bloody. Nobody knows about that. Hells, only Tav knows about Cazador, and even then he's spared most of the… finer details.

"Yes, well. I'm full of surprises, aren't I?” he replies cryptically. He's had enough of his secrets revealed today already. “Why do you even keep this thing around?" he asks to change the subject, adjusting the bear on his lap.

"He kinda reminds me of one my mum got me when I was a kid. I was weak to nostalgia and his cute li’l face. Ain't he adorable?” She leans in to poke at the bear’s overstuffed cheeks, and Astarion swats her out of his working space.

"He's a liability, this one. Falling apart at the seams.”

“Aw, c’mon. Like you've never kept anything around for sentimental reasons?"

The scant belongings in Astarion's tent are answer enough; mostly just pillows and various rags from the road, with a few books and pilfered trinkets scattered among them. A useless silver mirror, a few chalices for wine. Nothing sentimental. “No. Not a lot to be sentimental about. I don't remember my childhood."

"O-oh. I'm sorry. I guess it was so long ago, anyway, it would be hard to remember.”

He's pretty sure that's not the reason. "Are you calling me old? I may be immortal, but I'll have you know I'm a very reasonable age for an elf. I'm certainly no relic like Halsin .”

She puts her hands up, seeing that she's dug a hole for herself. "No! Mate, I would never. You look very good for your age. Or, no, not for your age because you're not. Old. It's just. You're, what, two-hundred and fifty? That's older than I'll ever be, or, not me specifically, because, well…”

The words die on her tongue, but what's been left unsaid hangs heavily between them: She doesn't have that much time left . Dammon had given her the news shortly after turning her temperature down from scorching to sweltering . And that's why Astarion is wasting his precious floss on this ridiculous bear, because he knows how awful it would feel to be given pity, but at least he can oblige her the favor she asked.

All of the stuffing has been sewn back inside the bear’s head. Astarion begins to double back to strengthen the new seam, and he looks very intently at his work as he knits his eyebrows together and asks, “How do you do it?"

“How do I do what?" she says, pulling her knees in with her arms and resting her cheek on her bicep.

“You are so… alive . Despite everything. Despite what you've been through.” Even her blood smelled like life, lush and blooming.

"Ha. I dunno. I just can't believe that I've really made it out of Avernus, so, you know, carpe dime or whatever.”

"I just… don't understand. You're going to die.” It's not pity when he says it, only hard truth.

She hugs her knees closer and lets out a shaky breath. “I don't really want to talk about it. Better to just enjoy things while I can. Otherwise I'd just be a ghost already."

He knows all too well how it feels to be a ghost.

“You're not angry? At Gortash, at Zariel?"

Heat flares in her chest, exhausting from the vents on her shoulders and filling the tent with the inferno of her emotions. “Of course I am! I'm right pissed. And if there's anything I can do about it, then both those fuckers will get what's coming to them.”

"Good.”

"I just… have to take every good thing that comes my way for now. I’ve done some not great things in my past. I regret just standing by when Elturel fell. I hurt a lot of people for Gortash that, looking back, seem like maybe they didn't deserve it. But right now, I'm finally more than just a weapon for causing destruction. For the first time in way too long, I can touch people again. And I've got a lot of good people around me who deserve some hugs.” She offers a small smile, but Astarion shifts away minutely.

"Bear’s done,” he says, holding it out for inspection. A vermilion scar marrs the seam between its head and body; it really does look like an injury.

"Aw, Clive, you look great! Glad to see you back with the living. Hey, Astarion, what do you think about adding a detail– giving him his own vampire bite? You did bring him back to life, after all.”

He knows she's trying to make him feel better, but it's doing anything but. "I wouldn't curse him that way,” he says softly, packing up his supplies.

Karlach is uncharacteristically quiet as she fluffs Clive to redistribute his recently reintroduced stuffing, pursing her lips.

"About your master–"

“We don't have to do this." His back is to her, hands in his pack, and he can feel her stare pricking through his clothes where she now knows the scars hide.

“No, that's not fair. Nothing is fair about anything right now. But you talked to me about my shit and I'm returning the favor whether you want it or not."

"I–”

"Mama K is talking now. You can just listen, you don't have to tell me anything if you don't want to.”

Astarion is silent, but he turns and sits back down, eyes downcast like a chastised child.

Karlach continues. "Listen, I don't know anything about your master or how he treated you. But I do know what it feels like to have to serve someone you don't believe in, and to have them fuck up your body without asking. To mark it as their own. I didn't know how to bring this up earlier, but… your scars. The ones on your back. They're in Infernal, aren't they?”

He nods; Tav had been able to identify that, at least, after their… tryst.

"I picked up a little, in the Blood War. Why didn't you come to me? I'd gladly help you out as best I can. You don't have to take this deal, Astarion. You can't trust a devil.”

The thought hadn't escaped him; he figured she might be able to read it. But he wasn't sure she'd be able to decipher the full context, and if he wanted any chance at killing Cazador, then he needed to know as much as he could. And, equally as important, he didn't think he could suffer the shame of anyone at camp knowing the full story. Asking Raphael just seemed the safer option; a fair trade.

"As much as he puffs himself up, he's a cambion, not a devil. And I'm sure he'll respect his end of the bargain. I'm prepared to pay his price, whatever it may be."

“He's a creep who's preying on you because he knows how badly you want it. He's gonna demand something that will just come to bite you in the ass later. That's how it always goes. Please, just let me try. If I can't make sense of it, then go ahead and accept the deal. But let me try."

He’s frozen in indecision, unsure if he can trust her with this. "I’m not sure–”

"You want a sample?” she interrupts, gesturing to the tattooed runes peeking out from under the shoulder strap of her top; it's easy to make out, dark ink contrasting against the sudden glow from within her chest. “This one says fucking Zariel ."

Maybe she understands, he thinks. Maybe he can trust someone else with this. The thin weight of his shirt on his back feels heavier knowing that it and one word are all that stands between him and naked vulnerability. He could just say yes; he could let her look, close himself off to the fear and let himself be lulled by whatever altruistic reasons she claims. But doubt whispers from the back of his mind: she's backed into a corner just like him, if not moreso, and that makes her dangerous . They both want to live, and they're clawing at scraps with all they've got. If she needs his help someday, she'll demand it of him in return. At least the terms of Raphael's deal will be predictable. The cambion’s words echo in his mind: What's better than a devil you don't know? A devil you do.

And there's also the other thing. Astarion is a shitty person and if Karlach truly expects nothing in return, then he doesn't deserve her help. She doesn't even know the depths of his depravity, and he doesn't really feel like sharing. He's ruined, and she's not.

And so, for the first time he can remember when someone was trying to get his clothes off, Astarion says: “No."

"Okay.” She's crestfallen, but to her credit, she doesn't push it.

He expects her to get up and leave now that his task is completed and he's outright rejected her in favor of a devil, but she doesn't. She sits with him a while, her steady warmth radiating over his skin. It feels nice, if he lets himself enjoy it. Clive’s dead eyes peer dolefully at him from within the safety of her embrace.

“If he takes something that hurts you… just know that I'm always down to give a devil a good smack-down. It's kind of my specialty– this tattoo says ‘demonsbane’. Just say the word.”

Astarion thinks the words ring a little hollow, because, from his perspective, taking on Raphael in combat seems like a death sentence, but he appreciates the thought nonetheless. “I can't believe you're sitting here offering up your demon-slaying services while hugging a teddy bear."

"It's only what Clive would want for the person who patched him up.”

"He'd be more useful if he stayed well out of the reach of foul canine beasts in the future.”

"Yeah yeah, I learned my lesson. Thank you Astarion, though, really. I don't have a lot in this world aside from him and you lot so… just doing my best to keep it all together.”

She sets Clive aside and pivots to her knees, moving slowly so as to give Astarion opportunity to escape if he wants to; her tadpole broadcasts her intentions. He warrs briefly with himself but is ultimately unable to convince himself to push her away, and he winds up wrapped in her arms. He knows she's been cooled to a reasonable degree, but he still flinches, because the difference between them is so stark . Her skin blazes against his, even through his shirt, and when he finally brings himself to relax slightly, his cool cheek on her shoulder prickles from the contact. The whirr ing of her mechanical heart is strange in his ears, and all at once, he brings his own arms to grip tight to her shirt; that beating, this warmth could vanish at any moment. She was his only proof that you could go through hell and not come out completely chewed up and broken and bitter, so of course the universe couldn't allow her to slip through unscathed. It wasn't fair– but nothing ever was.

“My… master,” he starts as she pulls away, leaving him feeling bitterly cold from the loss of her. "His name is Cazador. Cazador Szarr."

“Huh. I think I've heard that name before."

“I'm not surprised– the bastard has his claws sunk all over Baldur's Gate. He prefers to exert his influence from the shadows, but he's too ostentatious for it sometimes."

“You know," she says, thinking aloud, “he sounds like another evil arsehole I know. Gortash was always trying to expand his political influence through various shady dealings. Hey, listen. If you won't let me talk you out of that deal with Raphael, then let's make a deal of our own. You help me get revenge on Gortash, and I help you take down Cazador. I mean, I'd probably help out anyway ‘cause it just makes me fume thinking about any of my people getting hurt, but solidarity, yeah?"

Astarion flashes a fanged grin. "Now there's an agreement I can get behind. Blood for blood.” He holds out a hand cordially, and she takes it up with such force that his arm is nearly removed from his shoulder.

"That's what I'm talking about, soldier! Hah– sorry,” she says, noticing the way his face twinged at the power behind her handshake. "Been a long time since I've gotten to do that. Feels nice.”

"It does.”

There's a loud snorfling sound from behind her– she whips her head around. "Scratch! No! You leave Clive alone.” She pulls the bear out of reach of the dog’s curious nose and makes to leave the tent. "Astarion, will you throw the ball for him? He's got too much energy.”

His first instinct is to respond with a resounding No, I won't have anything to do with that filthy creature , but something within him is stirred by his conversation with Karlach. If he had to put a name on it– hope. He decides that he's going to try not to be a ghost any longer. So he throws the ball.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #astarion #astarion ancunin #karlach #karlach cliffgate #astarion x karlach #jupyt3r writes

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