#...........i was so clearly burning out on brain power toward the end of that. IF i ever had any
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The Swamp Re-Watch
Alright, this episode was a fun spooky adventure. I enjoyed the ghostly nature of the Swamp as a setting. Loved the horror movie moments as well as the opportunity for characters like Yue & Kya to haunt the narrative a little. Grief is an ongoing theme in Avatar, & it's fun to see it presented in the form of characters who are gone reappearing as visions.
(Something to keep in mind as I write this recap review is that I have been drinking wine steadily since 3 pm & it's now 3 am soooo about 12 hours? I'm not an alcoholic or on a bender, it's just Thanksgiving & I was with family now I'm home. Uh, the point is, I am doing my very bestest to be coherent okay 🙂)
Anywayyy! This episode was fun. I was gonna say I think this is the first time I'll really disagree with @theowritesfiction's overall opinion on the episode as we both do our re-watches because I really did enjoy this episode & I can't say anything negative about it but then I re-read the re-watch post in question & actually I overall agree with the commentary made. I just enjoyed the episode personally.
I think this episode's main fun comes from the ghostly vibe & overall horror movie homage vibe but it's also significant for the characters.
We see Katara seeing Kya again & breaking down. I think the main issue I have with this if I'm critiquing the writing, is that we should've gotten more...not closure, but emotional impact maybe? from that interaction. I think that part of the reason Katara's "complaints about her dead mom" are critiqued in this fandom (aside from blatant sexism & fandom idiocracy when it comes to Katara) DOES have to do with the way we're never really given significant flashbacks that tell us anything about Kya herself. Even this ghostly vision has her back turned. Can't haunt the narrative if you were never really a character. Still, it's an emotional moment for Katara, & important for understanding her character & the grief she is still holding onto.
I'm really glad that we got to see Yue again, & her vision's accusations that Sokka "didn't protect her" hit hard. Unlike the vision of Kya, I think that from a writing perspective, the vision of Yue was really thoughtful & fascinating. The real Yue chose to sacrifice herself & would never have blamed anyone else for her death. This vision berates Sokka for not doing better. I think that this says a lot about the nature of the Swamp. It doesn't show you actual ghosts, it shows you your own psyche.
That said....actually now my original thesis or like, point or whatever that this episode was super well written actually is falling apart because how does that fit in with the swamp guru dude's speech?
"In the swamp, we see visions of people we've lost, people we loved, folks we think are gone. [The shot cuts to show the people that Sokka and Katara saw in the swamp, before cutting back to Huu.] But the swamp tells us they're not. We're still connected to them. Time is an illusion and so is death."
My theory about this is that Huu doesn't fully understand the Swamp himself. No other option makes sense to me, because I think that the visions Sokka & Katara had only make sense from their own perspectives as manifestations of their grief. Kya turning away & saying nothing & Yue making Sokka feel worse for not preventing her death makes no sense unless it's Sokka & Katara's own fears manifesting. This isn't digging too deep or Pepe Sylvia-ing even, it's just...true. Huu, you don't get the Swamp, I'm stating it as fact now.
Anyway anyway. Um, on to Aang's vision! TOPH MY BELOVED <3 I love it but I also hate it. Again, I'm pissed that the whole "time is an illusion" thing just does not work because Kya & Yue's presence/actions/vibe literally just do not make sense in that context, it has to be a psychological thing for Sokka & Katara BUT the "time is an illusion" thing IS a clever allusion (ahhh I love getting to use that word when we're also talking about 'illusions') to Toph's future introduction.
Okay, I'm gonna be real honest with you guys I've been drinking even more wine the entire time I've been writing this re-cap/review & I'm running out of remotely intelligible thoughts (maybe none of these make the mark) BUT I thought of a funny idea. @theowritesfiction is doing a jerk point competition right? Okay well, I'm gonna do a "Iconic Points " competition. Basically, every time a character behaves in a way that makes me go "iconic" they get points. I have been trying to think of a fun - ummm I can't think of a word other than "alternative" but I KNOW that's not the word I'm looking for? but whatever - alternative to the "jerk points" thing to do myself & here we are.
Since I'm starting this competition late, the characters are getting raw points from Book 1 based fully on Wine Tipsy™ Rose's vague memories, which I think is a 100% Fair & Neutral & Objective (/joking) way to start this competition:
Katara: 1000 points for 'Imprisoned' & the pirate episode combined
Zuko: 1000 points for - well, I can't think of a specific instance but ILY Book 1 Zuko you depressed bastard you deserve some points
Jet: 1001 points - he gets 1 more point than Zuko & Katar for becoming one of my favorite characters in just one episode while they both took an entire season also for being better than everyone & done dirty by the Narrative™ AND the fandom & therefore deserving for first place status thus far
Sokka: 1000 points total. 800 points for 'The Northern Air Temple.' 200 for the Northern Siege episodes for making me fall in love with Yuekka & generally acting badass
Aang: 1000 points for Book 1 as an entirety because he had a lot of iconic moments, especially kicking Zhao & Zuko's asses
Yue: 1050 for the same reasons as Jet AND for sacrificing herself for the greater good
Book 2 so far:
Gaang: 0, they've been fine I guess but none of them have won any points sorry
Azula: 2000 for...I don't know? Everything? If you have to ask you've failed some kind of litmus test
Mai: 1000 for trying to kill the Gaang
Ty Lee: 1000 for acting suave about her childhood crush trying to kill her
Iroh: 500 for my perceived fan theory that I entirely made up about him tricking Zuko into getting help from Song.
Zuko: 500 for mugging a Karen Dude who embarrassed Iroh in the Swamp Episode
Okiii that is all I have to say for now! I will be more specific about assigning points & create a document to keep track in the future, but there you have it for now. Also, sorry for low-key copying you, Theo, but imitation is the sincerest form of flattery & I really wanted to do a points thingy myself too, it makes it so fun.
That's all for this episode!
Edit! I forgot that Suki gets 500 points for being a boss ass badass bitch in Book 1 but she's still not getting the super high 1000 count as everyone else for being low key forgettable. Not hate, just a noted thing about Book 1 & a further point that Suki needs more backstory
#...........i was so clearly burning out on brain power toward the end of that. IF i ever had any#i can't tell you my estimate for how many bottles of wine ive been through today because you guys would judge me LMAO#atla re watch#the swamp
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. . . LOVE ME HARDER !
in which: it's been two weeks. you have a resignation letter in hand and a grumpy itoshi sae who is not at all pleased at your decision.
˗ˏˋ masterlist series: first part | next part ´ˎ˗
collab series ft. sixosix earthtooz aanobrain . . . !
warnings: gn!manager!reader, pining, reader and sae r in their 20s, tension, so much pining, unedited towards the end but that's bc i have no time AHH.
"are you sure?"
you stare sadly at the two weeks resignation letters in your boss’ hand, blinking once, then twice as a heavy feeling of regret sinks in your chest, further powered by the jumbled thoughts in your brain, screaming at you to say both ‘yes’ and ‘no’. with an exhale, you listen to your heart and nod your head decisively.
“i’m sure,” you affirm. sae’s face flashes briefly in your mind and you cringe internally at the look of betrayal you can see so clearly. still, you grit your teeth and don’t back out.
“we can give you a raise or extra company benefits if that’s more motivation to stay?” instinctively, a materialistic part of you is ready to give in to the offers, but the rational part of you begs otherwise. “we haven’t had a worker like you who has been able to cooperate with sae this well.”
“thank you for the opportunity, sir, but i think it’s time to move on.”
your boss gives you a pointed look before putting down your papers with a sigh. “if that’s the case then i can’t stop you. you were a good asset, y/n, good luck with your future endeavours.”
with a thank you, you make your way out of the office, a heavy dread settling in your chest as you think about how sae would take this news. how would you tell him? you’re not that heartless that you’d just leave without letting him know but what would you say? ‘hey these are my last two weeks as your manager, lol’.
“you’re late,” a voice interrupts your thoughts and you snap back into reality, greeted with the face of itoshi sae, his usual apathy masking the subtle displeasure you can hear in his tone. you ignore the way your heart jumps simply at the sight of him.
maybe putting in those resignation forms was for the best.
“sorry. had to speak to management,” you mutter out.
the magenta-haired athlete narrows his eyes in suspicion but before he could ask you another question, you sit down in front of him and open up your diary with the schedule for the day. “okay. let’s see what needs to get done today.”
you ignore the way sae stares at you like he has something to say and you hope he’s not observant enough to see that you’re avoiding looking him in the eye as much as possible because you’d know your heart would give out from the pressure.
two weeks. two more weeks and you’ll escape itoshi sae forever, no matter how much you don’t want to.
***
you’re on the sidelines where sae is practising, furiously typing out an email on your laptop when your name gets called out, the voice coming from the entranceway of the field. it’s your boss but there’s a man of average height right behind him, dressed smartly with glasses and equipment fit for an office worker.
he must be sae’s new manager after you’re gone. bless him.
straightening up, you close the lid of your laptop before setting it aside, getting up to greet him with a small hop in your step. you ignore the way sae has stopped practising at the entrance of someone new. feeling of his inquisitive gaze burning into your every move lingers as you approach the visitors.
“y/n, this is girolan dabadie, he’ll be sae’s manager after you leave,” your boss states, gesturing to the man behind who gives you a humble wave, paired with a friendly smile. oh poor soul. you can tell he does not have the guts to work with sae.
then again, not a lot of people do. you included, which is why you’re resigning.
“hi, i’m y/n, pleasure to meet you.”
“pleasure to meet you too,” he says.
“we just thought it’d be nice for girolan here to get prepared with the ropes of his role before being thrown in the deep end next week.”
“of course, i’ll be more than happy to get you started, it is a tough job after all,” you say lightheartedly despite the last part being a sugarcoating of how truly draining it is to be sae’s manager.
and, speaking of the devil, you don’t like the way your gut churns, turbulent waves settling in your stomach in a way that makes you feel funny when you look sae in the eye. he’s staring at you so very intensely that if you hadn’t looked away immediately after, you suspect you would have combusted on the spot. there are questions that he wants answer to and judging by the glimpse of betrayal in his eyes, you can tell that it is not going to be a conversation you’ll like having.
for now, you grit your teeth and put on a professional front. this is why you were leaving, because sae looks at you too casually, too much, and you, similarly, know him too much, too casually.
leaving the training field, you can’t help but feel like you’re also leaving something meaningful behind.
“everyday you need to have the player’s schedules. most of them have promotions which you need to manage, so for example, sae has a shoot for adidas abibas next week. all you have to do is go to the shoot with him and foresee everything, the set managers there have that all under control, the only thing you need to control is itoshi sae himself,” you tell girolan halfway into the tour, now in your office space where you had schedules hung up everywhere. “these cabinet files are full of contracts, tax files, cash flows, all of the stuff that i have no doubt you’re familiar with.”
“all of these just for itoshi sae?” girolan asks, looking at the stacks of paper on your desk.
you sigh, slumping. “that’s what happens when you manage one of the most in-demand soccer players. don’t tell anyone but, it’s easier to manage the whole team than sae himself.”
eventually, the tour continues and you lead him through the rest of the spaces that he should know by heart. when you think you’re done with the introduction, it’s around 4:30, and you see girolan out to the main entrance.
“any questions? you can have my contact so that if you have any queries or concerns, you can reach out to me over the week,” you say, handing the new manager your card.
“i appreciate the crash course today, but admittedly i’m still a little nervous,” girolan confesses, “i mean, i saw first hand just how busy you are… any personal advice for the job?”
“just… good luck. it’s a handful but it’s a good experience nevertheless. at the end of the day, i’m more grateful for this role than i am not.”
“if that’s the case, why are you leaving?”
you widen your eyes, unprepared for that question. girolan catches on to your shock and immediately begins to apologise, afraid that he’s overstepped. “no, no, it’s okay, it’s a valid question. i’m leaving for personal reasons, ones that i can’t really go into.”
“i see.”
after that, you briefly say goodbye to one another, exchanging pleasantries before he leaves the building. you sigh in relief, looking down at your watch to see that you only had 20 minutes now to catch up on the outstanding work you left behind, an incredibly unrealistic time limit. you can already tell you’re going to work overtime tonight.
before you can dwell too much on that fact, a voice pops up from behind you.
“personal reasons?”
you turn around to see sae leaning against a wall behind you, completely unimpressed and disappointed. you hate it when he looks at you like that.
“yes, sae, for personal reasons,” you mutter, hardening your defences before walking past him. that doesn’t shake him off though, nothing ever does.
“and what personal reasons could that be?” he asks, not batting an eye to being waved off by you like that.
you walk a little faster. “they are personal reasons, sae, meaning that they’re none i should ever tell you.”
pushing open the door to your office with more force required, you don’t see the way sae flinches slightly at your outburst, furrowing his brows at how uncharacteristic you were acting. he doesn’t shy away though, following you into your office. you continue sorting through papers like he’s not there and that irks him even more.
“but how could you not tell me? i thought you resigning would be an important topic to bring up sooner rather than later.”
“i didn’t think you’d care.”
“so?” he spits. “i would rather you tell me than me finding out myself by seeing some random who is apparently my new manager.”
you cringe at his words. “okay well, i’m resigning as your manager. happy? be nice to girolan.”
sae groans. “were you just going to let me find out by myself in a week if today hadn’t happened? were you ever going to tell me?”
you shrug, punching some holes through some papers before adding them to an (already filled) binder. “maybe.”
sae grabs your wrist and you jump from the contact, as if his touch was lava and burns. the magenta-haired doesn’t miss your reaction, in fact, he narrows his eyes at you when he notices. you make the mistake of looking him in the eye and the churn in your stomach is back, heart skipping a beat as your hand goes limp in his.
this must be what they call a ‘moment’ in the movies, because you’re definitely having one right now, and it’s getting harder to keep your resolve up.
“sae, please leave. i’m trying to finish up these tasks before the day ends and you’re really disturbing me,” you grumble, trying not to let your voice waver. glancing away from sae, you slip your wrist out of his grasp and step away, creating some distance.
“is it something i did?” he asks. “if you’re not leaving because of the job itself then it must be the person, right? did i do something to upset you?”
“why do you care?”
“i have every right to, you’re my manager.”
“i won’t be in a week.”
“that’s a week away, you are still my manager right now and i want to know why it is you’re leaving.”
“can you not take the hint, sae? i don’t want to tell you!” you exclaim, shutting the filing drawer with a little more force than necessary.
“i won’t leave until you tell me.”
“you will actually hate me if i tell you.”
“i will hate you if you don’t tell me.”
“well then it doesn’t matter.”
“yes it does. if you’re just gonna leave me behind then i can’t see why you can’t tell m-”
“-if i tell you will you leave?” you snap. the silence is deafening, with sae widening his eyes in shock at your outburst. he nods firmly. “i like you. in more than a professional way. that’s why.”
turning around to the filing cabinet again, you reach out to pull the drawer with shaky hands, a racing heart, and a swirling stomach.
“now that i’ve told you, could you please leave?” you omit to tell him that you can’t look him in the eye. not anymore now that you’ve effectively ruined whatever-was-going-on between you and the star athlete.
footsteps echo behind you, drawing near with each click of sae’s shoes. you stiffen when they stop right behind you and there’s a moment of quiet, allowing you to hear sae shuffle behind you, a hesitant hand reaches out to cover yours, gently pulling it away from the cabinet to turn you around instead.
you don’t look him in the eye, glancing at every inch of the walls in your office just to avoid him. sae frowns at your evasion.
“can you look me in the eye so i don’t sound stupid saying what i’m about to say?” he asks, a little gentler than his usual, demanding tone, but still cold enough that your gaze cuts to meet his.
“you always sound stupid,” you mutter without thinking.
sae scrunches his face in judgement. “seriously? i was gonna say something you’d like to hear to. way to go for ruining it.”
“what, no! tell me!”
“i don’t think you deserve to know anymore, stupid.”
“hey! if i had to tell you then it’s only fair if-”
“-i like you too.”
that zips you up and a glimpse of mirth shines in sae’s eyes, paired with an almost-unnoticeable quirk of his lips upward.
“you do?” you stammer in disbelief.
“yeah.”
“oh.”
“yeah.”
there’s a pregnant silence between you two. no one ever really tells you what to do in scenarios like this, and the one time you’d like to use your brain and not embarrass yourself in front of sae, your mind decides to see itself out. “that’s… cool.”
“that’s all you have to say?”
“what, do you have more to add?”
“not really apart from inviting you to dinner with me.”
“when?”
“tonight.”
“tonight?” you parrot. “i can’t, i have so many tasks left to finish!”
“just leave them behind.”
“i can’t! i should get them done before i leave.”
“you leave in a week, then none of these tasks are your problem anymore.”
“that’s really not the best way to think about this, sae.”
“so thank goodness you’re my manager and not someone else.”
you narrow your eyes at him, immediately knowing what he was implying. “don’t think that this is a reason for me to stay being your manager. in fact, i’d argue that i now have more reasons to quit.”
with a ‘tch’, the soccer player rolls his eyes. “okay whatever, we’re grabbing dinner and that’s final.” he threads your hands together. “c’mon, sweets, let’s go.”
#sae x reader#blue lock x reader#itoshi sae x reader#itoshi sae#bllk x reader#blue lock fluff#sae fluff#itoshi sae fluff#sae itoshi x reader#blue lock
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Everything Changed When The War Arc Attacked:
Or, why do I hate the War Arc so fucking much?
At this point, eh, why not? Writing every day is supposed to be good for improving as a writer.
ECWTWAA is a simple, quippy line that holds all of my festering loathing for watching MHA gleefully hurl itself off a cliff once the War Arc happened, and, much like someone jumping off a cliff like an utter moron (or the Air Nomads after the Fire Nation attacked), it has never truly recovered.
*sigh*
In retrospect, MHA had been going downhill for a long time before that point, and a lot of it was something I noticed unconsciously, but didn't quite rise to me really paying conscious attention to it, beyond a few notable points (*cough*, Bakugou, *cough* FuCkiNg NIGHTEYE), but as my brain was somewhat in the off position as I read, I was still enjoying the ride, even as it bumped; the enjoyment was as much, if not more, that I used to enjoy it more than the actual content, but there was enjoyment.
If MHA before The War Arc was a somewhat imperfect roller coaster ride, the only way I can describe the War Arc is if the roller coaster ride abruptly ended in the side of a cliff, only somehow dragged out for months of slow paced agony. I watched, in vaguely real time, as Hori systematically trashed the last foundations of his story, the swan song of one of the best, most interesting characters in the series, toss aside the sudden yet exciting development of it's main villain, and escalate to a higher gear than ever before the constant work to protect some of the most vile characters, including said mass murdering villain, from even the slightest criticism by sacrificing everyone around them, as well as the very integrity of the story, to the alter of, 'They're not that bad, honest! Don't hurt their little feelings, you bully!'
And, I watched him finally finish the lobotomy on his main character, permanently ripping away what remained of his original personality and intelligence, leaving an empty puppet, a Deku, with the singular purpose of driving the story faster, and faster, and faster towards that thing that Hori seems to crave above everything else now: The End.
Freedom, freedom from the strangling chains of a merciless Jump schedule, of a plot long grown too complex for him to manage, or for him to even want to try, and from the burden of writing characters and stories he so clearly seems to despise, for some reason. And if they only way he feels he can get it is by burning everything he's done down to the ground, well, Hori's clearly more than willing.
In all honesty it became obvious that, in all of MHA, he only actually liked six things: Endeavour, Bakugou, body horror, dramatic, flashy fight scenes with flashy super powers, attractive women in minimal clothing and vaguely fetish-y torture scenes on attractive women in minimal clothing.
These things, from that point on, are the only things he has spent real, actual time on, developing, giving focus to. Everything else, everything else, is rushed, pushed constantly forward by Deku, the puppet, as he runs from plot point to plot point as fast as he can, never allowed a moment to rest, to reflect, to really think at all, all in the name of progression as empty as he has become.
In all honesty, it was a needed, if unwanted, shock to help me realize the truth, but at what cost? At what cost is this clarity? The joy is gone now; once I dropped my unconscious acceptance of the narrative, everything I had been ignoring came to me a rush of horrified realization, even the most mild of flaws became glaring, and now reading the early chapters that got me into this story in the first place is just... hollow now, like I'm watching my old self enjoy them, rather than enjoying them myself, and I can't help but be both jealous and vaguely contemptuous at the innocent pleasure that person had.
I'll admit, I'm being more dramatic than I'd like to be, but... I've said this before, I'd been reading MHA for years before this point. Years of enjoyment, interest, and focus, and it's all ash to me now. I'm somewhat bitter about it.
#bnha critical#mha critical#everything changed when the war arc attacked#bakugou critical#endeavour critical#nighteye critical#izuku deserves better#izuku is a person#deku is a puppet#me looking at the dimension where hori didn't do any of this shit#reference post
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Was Ratio a Good Free Five Star?
TL:DR All the things that make him look bad on paper as a free five star are exactly why he was frankly a FANTASTIC choice.
But I do mean it when I say that on paper he looks like Hoyo taking an L while we get left with Ratio. Not because he's bad though. For entrenched players like me, he was exciting. A main DPS that had to have a team comp that was pretty different from a lot of the other hyper carries out there since most supports, especially the hyper carry ones, don't do debuffs. If you try Tingyun and Bronya next to him, you'll often end up missing on MASSIVE damage since you need those three debuffs on the enemies. So who supports him best? That's an exciting question for someone with a wide variety of characters.
BUT.
A free five star like this is literally never for the entrenched players. It's a nice gift to them but this sort of thing is either a sign of desperation as they plead for old players to come back or it's a marketing trick to pull new players in. As Star Rail is still one of the best in its genre monetarily and Ratio was put out specifically because of all the awards it had just won, it was clearly the latter. A way to pull people in while the buzz around the game was big. Finally convert any last Genshin players who were on the fence while also finally moving people over from ALL the other team comp focused, turn-ish based gachas out there. A flex of dominance.
With that in mind... Think about who your first half a dozen, guaranteed characters are. Only half of Trailblazer has a debuff and it lasts one turn. March 7th has her freeze on her ultimate and that lasts for one turn. Dan Heng is the only member of the team with a debuff through his skill but it's only a two turn debuff and again: requires a skill point.
Then after that, the next three guaranteed are Asta, Serval and Natasha. Asta doesn't have a debuff without her trace ability to burn on basic meaning you have to get actually a decent bit into the game to actually get a debuff through her. Serval finally gives you a long lasting debuff with her Shock DoTs and can even extend those, making her not that skill point intensive. Then Natasha is, well... A healer who eventually dispels debuffs, not adds to them.
So two planets into the game and a new player could theoretically have a team of characters who all have debuff on skill but one of those debuffs lasts one turn and they ALL need to be using their skills most rounds in order to keep up the three debuffs to guarantee Ratio has good damage... On his skill. In a game where, unless you have a limited time 5 star that ISN'T free, you only have up to five skill points a round and that's only if you used a lot of basic attacks before hand. If you invest in her, you can swap one of them for Asta who I think would have her burn on basic to help but you'd still be running at a pretty extreme deficit mostly.
That is what you're guaranteed and so the shiny five star you were given, who was pushed towards you, is... Awkward. To put it mildly. Even potentially frustrating as every time you miss with his skill is a failure and feels AWFUL. Worse yet, you can so clearly see how he could work and how he could be strong!
And that's why he's amazing as the free five star.
I've jumped into plenty of long running gacha games that had guaranteed five stars or the like and do you know what happens? They make my brain turn off entirely for the starting content because they are usually demonstrably more powerful than anything else I have and the early game content wasn't designed around them. Even 3rd Impact, which I tried to get into now that it's on PC, has this problem where early on, they actually throw so many 5 star characters at you that you have to pick and choose between them instead of literally anyone else they give you early on. It's overwhelming but it also makes any curve of power just vanish as suddenly you are tackling content already meant to be easy with a character you don't have to think about with.
Ratio (and admittedly a lot of things about Star Rail) avoids this by being a character that requires characters who can work with him to function. He DEMANDS thought and in a way that leans into Star Rail's greatest strength: The fact that team comp matters. I could do an entire blog on how I think Star Rail is genuinely a breath of fresh air for turn based combat but this really is the big one for this blog. A new player is given this new five star who not only demands intelligence as a character trait but also for gameplay purposes. Can't figure out how to make him work? Then his gift is wasted on a fool like you. Maybe find someone a bit more your speed?
And as a Seele main who's only 5 star they used (besides Trailblazer) for over a month of play was Seele when the game came out... I wouldn't have wanted to be given Seele for free. Seele is a great character but she is monstrously powerful, even when played poorly. I don't even hyper carry with my Seele and I can tell you that she'll wreck house for a LONG time just on her own. She doesn't showcase the depth and strategy of the game, especially early on, and so a new player would just think that the game is simple and basic. They'd get bored with the character they potentially see as their win button and move on to a different game.
And for those stubborn enough to go "No, I am using Ratio!" then he becomes a goal. Not only does every limited 5 star that comes out suddenly look all the more appealing if they do debuffs (Boy was Kafka a fucking perfect pairing with Ratio's banner btw) but every four star is all the more exciting because hey, do they do debuffs? How many? How efficiently? How can they fit into the dream team that made me first get into the game?
Just by existing within a player's roster, one way or another, he raises questions about the game that ask the player to dive deeper into the mechanics of the game than they would have otherwise. Makes them think more about the early game, when it's going to be at its slowest, than most mobile games would ever even risk doing until they can hope sunk cost is keeping you there. He's not just a shiny trophy but an actual hook into players, old and new.
Frankly, if I had to say anything critical about choosing him, it's that he's just not had any good content associated with him. I think his quest, especially post 2.0, will mostly be a let down for any new players who came in partially because of him, especially if they decided to force him as their main. Admittedly, he's the like ONLY good thing about that quest (I could do a blog just about why that quest is bad) but even he doesn't get to shine in it. Penacony hasn't done him any favors either with his brief appearance so far. His writing is very strong though, easily some of the best of the smart characters in Star Rail, and his personality is interesting even in those appearances so they're not all bad, just that they could easily be disappointing to those new players who had to wait a while to get to see their boy in story.
But I suppose it had to falter somewhere. Hoyo has a tough act to follow if they ever give out a free five star for Star Rail again and keeping it in the realm of those who are simply intelligent, rather than having pulled off something only a genius could, is befitting for the good doctor. Have a good day everyone and until next tale.
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I have a public Discord for any and all who want to join!
I also have an Amazon page for all of my original works in various forms of character focused romances from cute, teenage romance to erotica series of my past.
I have an Ao3 for my fanfiction projects as well if that catches your fancy instead.
If you want to hang out with me, I stream from time to time and love to chat with chat.
A Twitter you can follow too
And a Kofi if you like what I do and want to help out with the fact that disability doesn’t pay much.
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A nice collection of assorted reading, this is the GaleCord Secret Santa Event Collection!
GaleCord is a Gale based fan server, but we have developed and nurtured an active, supportive, and welcoming community of smut writers in the NSFW areas who write for a range of pairings. You're more than welcome to come and join us in https://discord.gg/GaleCord - just mind the rules, no sharing the server or contents to performers/studio employees, and remember that Mystra sucks.
Anyway, here's a preview of the collection - a few more are adding to it later as we had 16 entries and not all of them are uploaded yet~
Mind the tags, of course, but so far we have:
- Bloodweave (multiple fics with this one)
- Astarion/Tav
- Omeluum/Tav
- Gale/f!OC
- Astarion/Halsin/Gale
- Durge/Gortash
- Dammon/Karlach/f!Reader
- Wyll/Astarion
My own entry is this one:
The Words That Bind Your Pages - Bloodweave with Dom!Astarion and willpower bondage. Sample below!
Smut Below The Cut~
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The Words That Bind Your Pages
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Gale was entranced. Slick fingers scissoring open the very destination his desire wanted to leap towards. He tried to imagine a heavy weight pressing atop him, holding his body still to keep him from climbing atop the chair in front of him and taking what he wanted.
And oh how he wanted it. The pale form of his lover was the most beautiful sight he could imagine, and there was no need for imagination now. Even the depths of the Weave had failed to reveal marvels more magnificent than the sight of Astarion pleasuring himself, preparing himself, all the while taking back ownership of all of it. The connection they felt was clearly no accident, and went far beyond a tadpole squirming in their brains…
The heat building in him as he watched was almost unbearable, but…he would give himself over to this fire time and time again, burning up beneath the command of crimson eyes. Those words were the only ones worth listening to, the only requests- the only commands that were worth following. The wound on his neck ached softly on the edge of his consciousness, still longing to feel that gentle pressure, the kiss of death that made life worth living.
His chest glowed more with the Weave reacting to his lust, yet he swallowed the magic back down. Not one syllable of a spell would pass his lips, his fingers would not seek a single strand of the power he once craved. Instead, they sought tighter purchase on his sanity, almost bruising his legs as he realised his lover was finally ready to put an end to the teasing.
“On the bed,” the soft words almost purred from the vampire’s throat, rich with desire, “take off your clothes and lay back, love, and I will give you everything you want.”
Gale stopped himself from replying, biting back the words. He would simply have to lavish his lover with an essay of affection when they were done.
His clothes hit the floor with a few deft movements and a quiet swish of fabric. Astarion’s shirt joined the pile as the wizard moved back on the bed, heated skin feeling the contrast of cool sheets beneath him.
The vampire on all fours crawling towards him looked every bit the predator he should, the hint of fangs and sparkling crimson eyes screaming danger to the part of Gale’s mind that was stubbornly hidden beneath a thick curtain of lust. As he lay his head back on the pillows, he stilled his body, trying to calm the rush of his heart thrumming in his chest.
“Give me your hands.” Astarion straddled his waist now, sitting upright and reaching out towards him. The command was quickly followed, and the elf took one hand in each of his own in the manner of a noble greeting a potential lover at a ball. “You have been so patient, love, so very good.”
Gale felt the cool soft lips press a demure kiss to the back of his hand, blush rising to his cheeks more strongly than during the entire salacious performance.
“I think it’s about time for your reward.” Astarion kissed his other hand, this time adding more along the backs of his fingers, shifting his hand’s grip until he could reach the tip of his index finger. “The greatest magic, darling, is not what you can do. It’s what you can feel .”
Gale gasped as his dearest vampire slowly took his finger between his lips, tongue curling around and sucking gently, a soft moan reaching his ears and all the while their eyes were locked together in a lover’s gaze.
When he was done with the lewd kiss, Astarion slid his grip to Gale’s wrists, lowering them down to either side of his head on the pillows. He pressed down hard for a prolonged moment, then let go and sat up above him once more. “There, love, can you not feel me still? Even though I’ve left? Be a good little Wizard and keep them there.” He paused as Gale nodded. “You can answer with your voice this time, but only briefly. After that, all I will hear from you is the sweet sound of you moaning my name.”
Gale felt himself trembling slightly, but he nodded again. “As you wish, my love.”
----
The rest is on AO3, though I may try to post the full thing here at some point in the future~
Enjoy! And don't forget to drop a little love to the authors of the collection on AO3 too, they all worked very hard on their gift pieces, and every one did an outstanding job~
#baldurs gate 3#bg3 fanfiction#secret santa#fanfic event#reading list#AO3 collection#plenty of variety#Bloodweave#astarion#gale of waterdeep#gale dekarios#omeluum#tav#halsin#durge#enver gortash#durgetash#dammon#karlach#wyll#too many pairings and themes to tag them all#go enjoy the collection
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I Loved You Like the Sun
a/n: i’m not ready to let go of this fic so i WILL be continuing it into the dance of dragons and i’ll be separating it into two parts. part one should conclude in what i hope to be 5 or less more chapters. i’ll be following the show plot bc that’s easiest for me. so that unfortunately means once i get through what’s happened in the show so far this book will be postponed until the new season comes in 2024 :( also- i heard all of you guys!! y/n will be claiming cannibal later in the series.
and i apologize for the weirdness with her father- after i decided to expand on this series, i decided to leave that conflict out. kinda a messy ending, but i’m eager for daemyra and reader to solidify their own family.
and btw guys it’s still me i just changed my username and stuff 😭
warnings: incest, swearing, violence, kinda sex tbh, mentions of death, tell me if i missed anything!!
Chapter Twelve- Silk Sheets
—-
Jace admits Lady Y/N confuses him.
He knows the facts- he knows that his mother and Daemon clearly feel some affection towards her.
He thinks back to their time in Kings Landing, when he saw Daemon with his hand on Y/N’s thigh and his mothers arm around her chair.
He remembers hearing a scream, muffled, coming from the other wing of their apartments. He remembers the banging on the door, and then the silence before screams of pain. They were unfamiliar. He remembers sneaking out of his bed, past the guards roaming the halls to look for something, he wasn’t sure. He remembers his mother crying, before bringing Lady Y/N into her arms. He remembers her calling the Lady “my Y/N.”
He remembers the special attention, the red dresses, the longing looks.
And he notices.
He notices how his mother and Daemon insert Y/N into their lives, scheduling bonding time with each of the children. He notices how his mother always makes sure Y/N is there.
His siblings are already entranced with her. Lucerys worships the ground she walks on, Baela proclaims Y/N to be her best friend, and Rhaena always draws her attention with soft words and nimble sewing hands. Joffrey and Aegon adore her as well, although they are too young to truly understand what is going on.
Jace does not know how his siblings have surrenders to her web. Does not know how his parents have. Does not know why he feels the webs clinging to his skin.
But now, she only watches him with fire-bright eyes. She does not carry their name. But fire burns in her, and Jace would be a fool not to see it.
He parries and blocks, rallies and ducks. He evades the wooden sword of the non-descript guard, feeling Lady Y/N’s eyes on him.
It is a blur of movement- an empty brain, devoid of thoughts about Aegon and Aemond and the rest of the Hightowers. His ailing grandfather. His poor aunt, who is subjected to a life with Aegon. How the crown already weighs heavy on his mother’s shoulders and she does not even have one yet. How one day that will be his.
He isn’t sure he can imagine it.
Baela at his side, Jace and Rhaena in Driftmark. Joffrey will be with him, of course. He needs a cupbearer if he is to be king. He likes to imagine Aegon will be a fierce warrior.
His grandparents dead. Daemon dead. His mother dead. Uncles bitter about their lack of power.
With a grunt, the knight yields. Jace’s sword at his throat. Lady Y/N claps.
Jace is burning under the spring sun.
—-
You supposed you shouldn’t be surprised how grand Daemon and Rhaenyra’s chambers were- much less the rest of Dragonstone.
Sometimes you forgot they were as powerful as they were, that the commanded the skies and the sea, the earth and the wind. They had thousands of men at their beck and call- to fight for them, to die for them.
Knowing that Daemon and Rhaenyra had all of that power at the word of a raven made you feel better about the letter from your father.
The two had wasted no time in furnishing their room to become yours as well. A bookshelf on the far wall, the comfiest chair next to the fireplace, tapestries of your choosing on the walls. It was more of a home then your room at Chambers Manor ever was.
You let your hand stretch over the silk sheets, blood red. Your hand splays, fingers dig in, making that scratching sound that makes a shiver run down your spine.
You sigh, falling back onto the bed.
What would you think if your father could see you now? You, the youngest of four, just trying to make it by unnoticed by your family. Your mother had passed years ago- one of the reasons you bonded so well with Rhaenyra.
—-
“I miss her.”
It is her mothers birthday.
She demands that you stay with her all day, so unlike her usual sweet asks and subtle coercion (you can’t refuse the feel of her lips). And her harsh tone is nothing like normal.
But she is hurting. You let her boss you around. If it made her feel better, you would rip out your own heart for her. You are already walking around with something inside of you that belongs to her, what difference does it make if it is in your chest or her hands? You never survived on blood. You survived on star power, on something mystical and otherworldly. Something no one else could understand.
Rhaenyra stifles another sob into your hair, as you hold her with tight hands. You urge her to breathe, and she does. Your chest aches.
Rhaenyra is your savior. Your lover. Your everything. She is like dragonfire being blown in your face- leaving you unscathed. She burns bright and hot but as you get closer, you see that she is just a young girl. Motherless. Powerless.
You know that one day she will burn. But today is not that day.
Besides, she is stronger than that. She is more than her loss.
It is a while before her sobs quite down.
“Tell me something. Distract me, my love.”
You sigh, mind scrambling. “Did I ever tell you about my great grandmother?” She shakes her head, and you hum. “Her name was Alyssa. She was a Targaryen, a cousin to Old King Jaehaerys. She had a dragon, you know. Pink, if the stories are to be believed. A ferocious she-dragon named Heartfyre. My grandmother claimed Heartfyre when she was only 12 years old. She said she wasn’t even sure what was happening. She thought the old dragon was going to kill her. But she did not. After my grandmother died, Heartfyre flew off- to Old Valyria, traders on the sea said. No one ever saw her again.”
Your hands tangle in Rhaenyra’s hair.
“That’s sweet,” she murmurs, and you are relieved to hear no remnants of a sob in her voice. “‘M sorry for being so rude today.”
“It’s okay, Rhaenyra. I know. I know.”
She does not cry. She is a princess. She is a Targaryen.
But here, with you, she lets herself fall. It is the sweetest thing.
—-
The door opens with a sharp creek, and voices fill the room. It is what you have been waiting for.
You stand, skirting past Rhaenyra and Daemon in the doorway.
“Y/N, come back!” Rhaenyra calls, and for once, you do not answer her. You grab the letter you received late last night. It is hidden in your bookshelf, in between the cover of your favorite book.
When you turn back around, Rhaenyra is sitting leisurely on the bed. Daemon sets Dark Sister on the side table, fingers carefully tracing down the blade. He handles it with such care and reverence, you admire it.
You pad over to the wordlessly, letter burning in your hands. You do not trust yourself to speak, and Rhaenyra frowns when you hand her the letter. She tugs on your red slip, pulling you next to her on the bed.
“What’s this?”
You sigh, wordless, placing your forehead on her shoulder. You can tell she is concerned, placing a hand on the side of your face. You hear the sound of the wax seal ripping.
You did not dare open it.
Her eyes scan over it quickly, and you hear the sound of Daemon’s holster falling to the floor.
“Your father.” She whispers, and it is a breathless thing.
You nod against her, her hand curls into your hair.
“I won’t let him take you. Not again.”
“What?” Daemon asks, walking over, finally in earshot of your hushed voices.
“Letter.” Rhaenyra whispers. “Y/N’s father.”
“Tell him to fuck off,” Daemon scoffs.
You are too nervous to admonish him, Rhaenyra too busy reading.
“He says you can stay in Dragonstone. That your siblings married better than you. He doesn’t care.”
You let out a breath of relief.
The years of letting him pass you by have paid off.
“Thank the Gods,” you murmur.
“Were you scared, my sweet girl? You must know by now, we will not let anyone take you, hm?”
You pull back from Rhaenyra. Miss her warmth.
“I know, but, still. We are not married.”
“That can be arranged.” You do not need to look at Daemon to know his face is sporting a large smirk.
Rhaenyra sighs from beside you, beginning to take down her intricate hairstyle.
“We won’t do anything until you say so, my love.” She shoots a look to Daemon, and you smile. You fall back onto the bed, on your side, cheek pressing into the silk fabric. Daemon comes into your point of view, but only for a second. He walks past you, to the other side of the bed, bed dipping as he lays down.
It is domestic. It is normal. It is all you have ever wanted.
Daemon winds a hand into your hair, tugging you up. You sit up, and he beckons you over with a lazy grin and a movement of his finger. You come to your knees, and he palms your hips.
“Made for us,” he murmurs.
He pulls you to straddle him in one swift move- and he moans at the sight of your flustered from the lack of warning.
He is drowning in his own lust, in the tightening of his pants. You can feel it below you. Pressing up against you in the most delicious way-
When your hips move, it is a reflex. A desperate chase for more of this feeling.
Daemon and Rhaenyra have not ravaged you like this. No one has. Your husband neglected his duties to you. But you are take by the sudden need to be taken by them, to be full, to feel loved.
“Daemon,” you moan. He grunts, face burying into your neck to leave hard kisses.
You hear the silk sheets rustle from behind you, the press of something warm against your back. Rhaenyra is right behind you, breath fanning the side of your face. Her hands rest on your stomach, a comforting, sure pressure.
“This is what I want to see for the rest of my life. The prettiest girl, a desperate mess for us, yeah?”
You moan at her words, hips moving again. Daemon throws his head back, hands gripping your hips tighter, pushing you down-
When Rhaenyra’s hand travels along your stomach, you grab it, instinctively. You do not know if you are ready.
“We will have you as you are,” she whispers, and you let her hand go. When her warm hand dips under your skirts you shiver with anticipation. With want. With need.
The head of Daemon’s manhood touches his stomach, and you press against the length of it. It must be a painful thing, you think, by any way Daemon grips your hips.
Her hand moves past your small clothes, and Daemon lets out another groan at the press of her hand as well.
Daemon grabs the front of your dress, ripping it in half in a show of raw strength. You shriek in suprise, but he only laughs, dark and promising.
He leans back, admiring.
Your arms come over your chest, but Daemon grabs them with a growl.
“Did you not hear me?” Rhaenyra whispers, hot and breathy in your ear. The tip of her finger circles for the first time in so many years, and you throw your head back onto her shoulder. “I said we will have you as you are.”
And when they have you, you swear you melt into the silk sheets.
—-
taglist:
@wondergal2001 @akiraquote @a-lil-bit-nuts @anginoguera @thatkinkylesgirl1 @stitchattacks @honeypillowsblog @kaloafd @blackhoodlea @softtina @wallace02sblog @tetgod @hotd-fanfic
#daemon x rhaenyra#daemon targaryen#daemon targaryen x reader#rhaenyra targaryen#rhaenyra targaryen x reader
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Onward into High Hall!
I seem to recall being told that we'd have another chance to change up our party before the final fight, but I'm almost tempted not to. It feels like a nice bookend to have Lae'zel with Hector here at the end, just as she was at the beginning, especially given how their friendship has evolved over time.
There are a bunch of terrified civilians running everywhere. I particularly feel for this unfortunate one:
Who ran straight into the fire surface, set himself on fire, burned all the way through his six hit points, and died in front of us for no reason. :( Lots of dead Absolutists, mind flayers, and other civilians around here too.
Report from the climb up!
An absolutely bangin' and very dramatic soundtrack.
Some city watch folk who were pretty freaked out by Orpheus's presence but who Hector convinced to join them and help rather than fleeing.
A long-rest-in-a-box restoration chamber like we saw on the Nautiloid and in Moonrise.
Several dead ends which we have to get around by jumping around on pieces of shattered rampart.
More winged horrors. They're not very difficult to fight thankfully and everyone keeps one-hit-KO-ing them. The team is clearly so pumped full of adrenaline that they're even more of a battering ram than usual.
Fighting as Orpheus (he's attached to the party for now) is making me realize the benefits of going full worm; as a mind flayer he can use actions and bonus actions interchangeably, which is very cash money of him. His abilities, which are per turn with no other restrictions like spell slots that I can discern, are also insane:
Starting to think maybe the Emperor had a point. :P
Reaching the upper level courtyard of the Hall we start running into a lot more enemies.
Per @zenjestrr's advice, our current strategy is repeatedly summoning the more cannon-fodder-y Friendship Buff mobs to help clear the field; the main goal right now is to keep our primary party and our big heavy hitters (Aylin, Buddy, Yurgir, etc) in good shape for the final fight.
Once again the game manages to replicate a key D&D table experience - the feeling of knowing there's a big boss somewhere up ahead and trying to figure out how to ration your resources so you're not tapped out by the time you get there.
At least to begin with, the courtyard isn't too scary. As usual, Hector and Karlach are juggernauting away at the front line and Lae'zel is slotting in perfectly alongside them just like Minsc did. Team Single Target Damage is on the case.
Jaheira is holding down the backline and not looking as squishy as she used to which is also great. I'm wary of using her too much because most of her AOE and powerful stuff is all high level spells that I don't want to burn. I'm spending some of her actions on summoning our mobs of friends, which pleases me from an RP perspective because of the four of our team she is the hardened experienced fighter and I like the idea of her kind of directing the battle.
I'm probably playing a little TOO conservatively with my abilities here, actually, but I'd rather be too careful than not. I didn't use the long-rest-in-a-box before so there's also the possibility (I think) of running all the way back there and tapping it before we reach the brain, but I'm not sure.
It does amuse me that we keep getting gold and trash loot drops here because there is zero point to it anymore I think.
At first the courtyard seems like a bunch of small isolated fights, but as I have Hector start running towards an ogre near the center of the field, the WHOLE PLACE lights up in a battle with [counts rapidly] TWENTY-EIGHT ENEMIES, including the ogre, several mind flayers, and a spectator. FUCK.
Maybe time to start using those big spells after all, Jaheira.
This isn't quite as scary as it looks because we really are powerful as shit at this point. Hector continues to be completely terrifying, Karlach is too, Lae'zel has three attacks on a turn (or six with action surge), Jaheira can set out a Haste pool for everyone to run through, Orpheus's illithid skills are upsettingly good, and we have a LOT of friends who are (I hate to admit) expendable. But that bar full of enemies too big to fit on the screen is stressful.
Oh this is going to be very scary on Tactician though I bet.
One of Zevlor's Hellriders casts Flame Strike on a big crowd of goblins which I would be much more on board with if HECTOR WAS NOT DIRECTLY IN THE MIDDLE OF THEM. Flashbacks to the last time Hector being in the middle of a fireball was considered an acceptable cost; it wasn't much fun then either. He does manage the save though so this time he takes no damage because he is badass, and the Flame Strike kills five enemies, so...worth, I guess.
This battlefield is also ENORMOUS and difficult to maneuver on, lots of high ground and curbs that mess up pathfinding.
So exciting to see Zevlor back in his element again, having found his paladin conviction once more.
One of the Hellriders did get dominated by a mind flayer, which led to this upsetting exchange:
Eventually victory! Gods, what a long fight. But we actually did quite well; everyone except Hector still has some of the temporary hitpoints we got from Ravengard, and we didn't lose any of our guest combatants. :D (And the one that got dominated is back safe. <3 )
Onward!
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Finding You #19 - Ari Levinson smut
The one where Ari gets his rut
When you end up being transformed into an omega without any understanding of what it entails, five Alphas find themselves responsible for your well-being. Guess it’s only expected you’d take care of them too, huh?
For general warnings and author’s notes, please go to the fic’s masterlist.
A/N: The next chapter is ready but won’t be posted for a while. It’s more of a drabble than a proper chapter, but I don’t want to hear no one complaining! I’m still recovering and it’s the best I could do.
Ari’s P.O.V.
“Come here, ‘mega.” She patted her way towards me, cute little smile on her face that made me just want to squish her - so that’s precisely what I did. “God, you’re adorable.” Her giggles were interrupted by Ransom’s dry heave, but before I could send him a warning look, our omega started to openly laugh, and how could I be angry with my youngest brother when he had provoked the most beautiful sight I had ever seen?
Glancing at him briefly, I found his grin mirroring my own, his own gaze on the girl before us, even as she settled on my lap, rubbing her ass against my dick in an effort to become more comfortable.
“Good girl.” I buried my nose on that spot behind her ear, the one that tickled her, but from where emanated so much of her perfect scent, I just couldn’t ignore it. Even as she tried to scoot away, her arms never released my shoulders, and it had me chuckling lowly as I grabbed her hips and made sure she’d remain with her body glued to my own.
“Stay.” Just as she obeyed me, melting against my hard chest as I hugged her to me, my vision darkened, a hot, fiery sensation burning inside my veins and warming me up so suddenly, it had me panting.
I knew this feeling, I realized it. I knew what it meant. But shit, it had never been this powerful before.
Then again, I’d never had an omega before.
Dirty, improper thoughts took over my brain, each nastier than the one before, and I knew my grip on her hips was tightening even before I heard her gasp. My body acted of its own accord, my nose leaving the shell of her ear in search of that juncture between her neck and shoulder, and I nuzzled it eagerly, a low whine leaving my chest and capturing my brother’s attention.
“Ari?” Frank called out for my attention, straightening up on his side of the couch and leaning towards us. “Are you…?” He didn’t have to finish the question, I was already nodding. But I didn’t pull away from my soft omega’s body, instead pulling her even tighter against me, making sure that with every movement of her hips, as she tried to turn around and stare at me, her ass rubbed against my dick.
“What’s wrong?” She questioned, clearly worried, and it only had me falling deeper into my rut, bringing my neediness into that edge of aggressiveness I was trying so hard to pull back from. “Are you okay?”
Around us, my siblings were already beginning to scatter. Steve and Andy left towards the garage, undoubtedly determined to work on something loud enough to overpower the noised I’d be making throughout the day, while Ransom and Frank escaped towards the garden, but not before making sure she knew everything would be okay.
“You take care of Ari, alright, sweetheart?” The youngest in our pack smiled down at her, although from a safe distance. “He needs you.” I saw her frown as she pulled on her fingers, seemingly not knowing what to do.
“What should I do?” The laughter that escaped Andy startled her, and it had Frank’s lips twisting up in amusement, too.
“Anything he wants,” Andy proposed, and that had a growl of hunger escaping me, making her eyes grow twice their usual size in shock. As much as that was precisely what I wanted, I knew it’d be impossible for me to enjoy it - or even get close to her - if she was terrified of me.
The look I sent my younger brother must have made him realize his mistake because he rushed to explain it, “I mean, not in that sense. Well, yes, in that sense - but you should only do what you feel comfortable doing.”
If I were in a better mindset, I might have been able to laugh at this situation, how my usually smooth brother was racking his own brain trying to come up with a way to explain to our omega that I was about to get into a rut, and would need her terribly and hungrily for the next 48 hours.
“He just can’t be alone right now,” he settled on saying at least, already grabbing his coat as he followed suit the same path our other brothers had walked down, in the direction of the neighboring town. “He needs you, ‘mega. Be a good girl for him, hm?”
He didn’t need to ask her. We both knew she’d be the best little kitten, and she did too.
The second the door closed behind Andy, her body tensed, suddenly realizing just how deranged I was. I knew I didn’t look quite like myself. Sweat had started to pour out of my body, my heart beat picking up over nothing but my growing arousal, and it had me panting only to inhale even more of her sweet scent into my lungs.
But she was still on edge, and that’s not how I wanted this to go.
“I’m needy, sweetheart.” Keeping my voice low, I slowly shortened the distance between us, crossing the living room until I was standing right behind her, towering over her smaller frame. I wrapped an arm around her body, pressing her back against me so she’d feel how fucking hard I was already. “’M needy for you.”
She started panting too, body losing its rigidity right when I began to lose control of how my own behaved. My hands traveled up to grab her breasts, rubbing her nipples over the fabric as I nuzzled at her scenting gland.
“There’s only one way I can get better…” I didn’t need to explain it, so I let my body do the talking. Ripping her clothes in a single, forceful movement, I pushed her down on the carpet, following close behind as I knelt between her legs.
Y/N’s P.O.V.
“Yeah, just like that…” Trembling from head to toe, I tried my very best to keep myself upright in the way Ari had positioned me: on my hands and knees, pussy exposed for him to take in.
I had no doubt that he would. I’d been through this before with his brothers - once, three of them had their ‘ruts’ at the same time - and after it was over, I couldn’t walk for a whole week.
The weirdest part, however, was that I kinda loved it. Being desired to this extent - not to mention fucked so roughly pleasure and pain mixed to an impressive degree - made me hornier than ever, and the way my wetness dripped down my inner thighs was certainly noticed by Ari.
“Such a little whore,” he mocked me as I rubbed my thighs together in an effort to keep patient. “You want my cock, don’t you? No, even better: you need it.” I did. “Tell me. Tell me you want my big cock stretching out all of your little holes, and I’ll give you what you want.”
He needed this just as much as I did, but I understood the power dynamics all too well. He wanted to make sure I submitted to his desires and intentions - that’s why they all placed me in this position once the rut hit. Andy called it “presenting” and the name made sense to me: it was the last step of a union based on sex, in my mind - the moment I succumbed completely to their needs and desires because I felt them as my own.
“Please, Alpha…” The title left my lips easily, just as the last of my rational thought bid adieu so I could focus completely on him and in the way his hands ran down my back, only to spread my ass cheeks to his view. “Please, fuck me. I need you so badly…”
A sharp inhale preceded the spank I got - there was no doubt about the mark that would appear in the following days, but at that moment all that mattered to me was getting his dick inside of me.
Thankfully, he didn’t leave me waiting much longer. I felt the head of his cock rubbing against my cunt, and just as I sighed in relief, he shoved himself all the way in. “There you go…” His voice was low, even raspy as he massaged my hips and waited for me to adjust to his girth. “Such a good little omega, taking everything your Alphas give you…”
Falling onto my forearms, I wanted to scream at him to start fucking me, but I couldn’t speak. Feeling connected to him felt even more magical, probably because of the hormones associated with Alpha’s ruts.
“Wanna know a secret?” He pulled me up again with a hand over my neck. Breathing against the shell of my ear, he explained: “You’re never leaving us, princess. You’ll be our whore forever.”
A moan left me in response, and he just chuckled - almost meanly, definitely full of himself. He deserved to be. I was all over the place, and that was before he even started to actually fuck me.
Alphas ruts were relentless. I shouldn’t have been surprised that Ari’s first one back home was beyond that. He fucked me three times on the rug, before deciding it wasn’t enough and that he needed to claim me as his in his own bed, too.
I hadn’t been there before. Ever since Ari arrived, we’d all been sleeping in the biggest bed in the house - Steve’s, originally, but I couldn’t remember the last time he’d been the only one sleeping there.
I’d started to think of his bed as ours, as in mine and all of the brother’s. It smelled like us and it made me feel safe as nothing else. But they still had their own bedroom, just like I had mine, and it wasn’t unusual for them to want to spend some time in their own space, especially when experiencing a rut.
“Just like that, princess.” He guided my hips to ride him, and I held on the cries of pleasure that threatened to break free. It felt too good - his dick felt too good inside of me, stretching me good for his knot every time he came.
By now I was a mess in more ways than one. Cum dripped from me, slathering the insides of my thighs and staining the bed sheets, but none of us cared. All that mattered was the rhythmic give and take of our hips, dancing together to a symphony only we could hear.
At some point, I started crying. It was that delicious pain, that mixture of pleasure and hurt that got to me, making me sob against the pillow as Ari railed me from behind. “It’s okay, little ‘mega,” he tried to console me. “Don’t cry, it’s almost over.” His thrusts became slower, the rolls of his hips punctuating each word from his lips. “Your Alpha will take good care of you. We’ll always take care of you.”
I didn’t bother to tell him that I knew. The love I could hear from his every word just made my sobs louder, and at some point, I hear the door open as we still fucked. Ari’s growl kept them from coming in - no one should come between an Alpha and his Omega during a hut, I’d learned that by now - but from their spot in the threshold, I heard them asking, “Aren’t you hurting her?”
It was Ransom, and I could hear from his tone how hard he was struggling to hold back and let Ari do his thing. “Don’t worry,” the Alpha inside of me said to his little brother, “she can handle me.”
I didn’t hear the door close after that, and the feeling of being observed grew bigger. Forcing myself to pry my eyes open, I found Ransom and Andy standing there, just silently watching me get railed by their older brother.
The hunger in Andy’s eyes was the last thing I remember seeing before I passed out.
#finding you#ari levinson smut#ari levinson#smut#ari levinson x reader#ari levinson reader#ari levinson reader smut#ari levinson reader insert#ari levinson reader inserts#ari levinson fanfiction#ari levinson fanfic#ari levinson fic
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Requiem for a Bentley
Hey, let's enjoy some more music nerdery together!
I listened to the soundtrack, and got curious about how Requiem for a Bentley is used in the show. I know this would be easier to understand as a video, but I am just not into that, so I'm going to write, make of it whatever you can. Timestamps are from Amazon Prime streaming, episode 6. All this happens before the opening title.
So, this is a very important scene. A lot of things happen, and the music serves that.
Crowley gets out of the car.
He immediately recognises Aziraphale in Tracy's body, and decides to confront U.S. Army Human. The Them bicycle past, into the airfield, thereby advancing the plot. The music, for now, is a sort of "AH AH AH AH" chorus.
At 02:37 The music stops and the Bentley explodes. The exploding process continues till 02:57 when the music starts up again - it's a slightly comical, valedictory snippet of Queen, followed by the noise of burning. The handle and the little wing-thingie hit the ground.
At this point, everyone turns around. Crowley abandons his cool, turns his back on them, and fall to his knees staring at the wreckage.
This is where "Requiem for a Bentley" begins. There's a steady bass drone, with chords in low strings and wordless, very slowly rising, higher voices. Here is Crowley's shock and grief, and sounds of glass, or something, shattering. I'm not quite sure how the painful sliding-up-and-down sounds are done, but it's all saying "Oh, no".
He says "90 years and not a scratch, now look at you!" His voice is so full of grief it isn't even a reprimand.
03:16: Aziraphale pursues Crowley, not to offer comfort or understanding but to get between him and the car and demand that he do the "dirty work". The same wailing low strings continue: Crowley first ignores, and then flat-out refuses Aziraphale: "I am having a moment, here". The chords continue, but they change slightly. Crowley has told Aziraphale no. We have never seen him do this before on screen.
03:20: Aziraphale tries to insist, but Shadwell threatens Army Human: "I'll count to three, and I'm gonna use ma finger!".
03:37: Very disturbed, stressed out and armed-to-the-teeth Army Human appeals to Aziraphale ("Ma'am!"), and sets a deadline "I'm giving you all five seconds to vacate this area!"
At this moment, the voices and strings start to rise in pitch and loudness, and a bass line starts.
It's not loud, but it's clearly heard underneath the equally important sound of Mme Tracy's steps. The pitch of this is not as important as the rhythm: "Dum, da-da dum, da-da dum, da-da dum, da-da dum …." This rhythm means something. As a musical trope, I'd tag it "gallop" - it's the rhythm of a large four-footed animal, breaking into a run. We don't know if it's the Charge of the Light Brigade, the Last Ride of the Rohirrim, the climax of Sibelius' violin concerto, Send In the Clowns, or that scene with the rhinosceros in The Nutmeg of Consolation, but the message to our lizard brain is the same: something big is moving, it has momentum, and it's going to take a lot to stop it.
Aziraphale huffs, and makes a decision: he is going to have to do it himself. He returns towards the entrance. Army Human raises his gun, points it at Shadwell, and steps forward: Shadwell stands his ground, finger raised.
In the music, EPIC CHORDS BIT starts. Each chord is a very small change from the last, but harmonically speaking they do a lot with not much. Still behind Shadwell, Aziraphale snaps Mme Tracy's fingers, there is a bell-like sound in the music, and a moment later, Army Human disappears, to be peacefully reunited with his family.
Shadwell (03:49) is now fully convinced of the power of his finger to make people disappear. There is a second bell-like sound, as he stares at it. This is a decisive moment, and the end of EPIC CHORDS BIT leaves us breathless.
03:57: Aziraphale, or possibly Madame Tracy, tuts, and the music dissolves into an thinner, shimmering string harmony that isn't going anywhere for a moment.
03:58: We return to Crowley, who kisses the starting handle and issues his GRAND EMOTIONAL STATEMENT: "Rest in Peace. You were a good car." And then - he gets up and turns back to the airbase.
As he does so, a new melody starts. Da-da-da-daaa da da daaaa … like a sigh and a shrug and a turning.
This is repeated a couple of times, while Crowley attempts to resume his cool by complimenting Shadwell on what he has just supposedly done; Aziraphale ignores that, and fusses for reassurance about where he sent Army Human. But, setting aside my feelings about the off-the-charts long-married energy, I feel like I've heard this melody before. It took me a while, but it's really close to the melody that opens Many Meetings, on the LOTR soundtrack. It's Gloomy Uncle Elrond. Anyway, it comes over as Potentially Heroic But Solemn and Apprehensive, so that works out.
The melody then dissolves back into apprehensive harmonies, as a jeep appears. Aziraphale continues to look to Crowley for leadership: Crowley says "Oh-oh. Okay. I need to get over the - car thing. I'll deal with them." As he says this, there is a melody going on, which you can hear clearly in the soundtrack CD, but less clearly in the show.
Underneath the "lick butt" conversation, it's this:
This little repetition of intervals, in the first three notes, makes you think it's going to do this, the traditional chant for the part of the Latin Mass for the dead that refers to the end of the world, "Day of wrath, that day ...", so widely quoted in film music that you can go and watch videos about it that are actually good:
Warning: the video linked above ends with a Trap version. (Also the whole thing is in Spanish, but the English subtitles are good).
But it never actually does. Instead of going down a minor third to the fourth note, it goes up a major third and then repeats itself. This little motif that suggests the oldest meme in western music and then doesn't quite go there keeps showing up in the soundtrack - because, obviously, it's about the end of the world not quite actually happening. I don't think anything more needs to be said about this. I think the most fun is had in Three Card Switch, where it appears on organ and goes, I think, something like this:
The music in this whole scene isn't very loud, but it is very important, because this is a very important few minutes in which a lot of decisions are made. The only thing that advanced the plot directly was the Them bicycling past, but: Crowley said No to Aziraphale's demands, Aziraphale made a truce with doing the dirty work when it was necessary, Crowley told us how much he loved his loyal Bentley, and both of them continued the process of committing to the matter at hand, while remaining ostensibly, as has always been the case, completely beside the point of anything that happens.
The music is unobtrusive throughout this key scene, but it guides us gently along the emotional path.
And as it fades out, R.P. Tyler confronts Mr. Young, who decides to proceed to the airbase. This is the moment when someone actually tells Adam's father.
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Hi! So it’s rumoured that we might expect the show about the Conquerors so there’s one thing I’m interested in
Could Visenya’s motivation for pushing Maegor towards the throne, mocking Aenys at every turn and claiming he’s weak, and her falling out with Aegon to the point that they couldn’t even stay at the same residence been motivated by the fact that Aegon married Rhaenys?
It’s said he married Visenya for duty and Rhaenys for love. But we aren’t given details of their weddings. It could be Aegon married Visenya first as tradition dictated, but then Aegon chose to or was seduced by Rhaenys into taking her as a second wife? Visenya might not love Aegon, but him insulting her like that surely could motivate her into betrayal?
First things first: HBO, I've said this before and I'll say it again, I am willing to work for very little money and I know I'd make a good show, just give me this, I can do it right the Conquerors are my babies.
I think it's entirely possible, since we know next to nothing about the inner workings of the Conquerors' brains, but I'll be honest, if that were an actual plot I'd find it a bit lazy. There are very few tropes that feel as tired to me as "woman scorned" and given how interesting these characters have the potential to be, it would just seem to me like the easiest way out. Yes, there's a reading where Visenya feels insulted that Aegon loved someone else more than her and prioritized that relationship, and that's a perfectly acceptable headcanon to have and I'm not here to knock on anyone's theories (and this is all theorizing because of the dearth of information we have), but as a writer, I find it a bit basic, and I'm not entirely sure it holds up to scrutiny. Visenya never exhibits any sign that she is insulted by Rhaenys and Aegon's marriage, or that she bears either of them any ill will. She fights by their sides during the Conquest, she crowns Aegon as king herself, she's comfortable sharing administrative duties with Rhaenys, she's just as upset as Aegon was when Rhaenys died, and she specifically is the one who creates the Kingsguard to protect Aegon. And when Aegon dies, she doesn't ever actually try to challenge Aenys's authority as king, she respects him as a ruler and never mounts any challenges (especially poignant when it's so clear that if Maegor and Visenya really wanted Aenys gone, they could do that, they have the two most powerful dragons in the world at their command), and she does try to actually help and advise him. She badmouths Aenys, yes, but only once he's king and long after Aegon's dead, and it seems that's more motivated by genuine issues she has with Aenys's personality than any old hurts that are making her be vindictive or petty.
The thing is, the change in Aegon and Visenya's relationship really seems to have been motivated by Rhaenys's death, not her introduction into the marriage. Visenya, according to all the records we have, appears to have been perfectly fine with Rhaenys being Aegon's wife as well, and with Aegon's clear preference for Rhaenys as a romantic and sexual partner. It's only after Rhaenys dies and the First Dornish War comes to an end that it's apparently becoming clear to chroniclers that Aegon and Visenya are drifting apart. And to me, that reads more like it was what happened to Rhaenys specifically that altered the course of that relationship. Grief is a very powerful thing and it can either bring the people affected closer together or tear them apart with its intensity. And these two were absolutely grieving, they lost their baby sister unexpectedly and violently and clearly weren't handling it in the most healthy way, considering that their coping mechanism was "burn an entire subcontinent to the ground over and over with indiscriminate rage for two years". It seems like Rhaenys operated, in some capacity, as the glue holding their family together, considering how she's described as kindhearted and well liked and just a good person to be around, in stark contrast to Visenya's sternness and Aegon's reserved introversion. So when she died, you've got two people, who have a cooler relationship with each other than they had with her, who are feeling very strong emotions that they cannot handle very well and are heavily internalizing, and it resulted in them drifting further and further from each other in the years to come (especially on Aegon's part, considering how clear it is that he never got over Rhaenys). That's likely part of what motivated Visenya's own strong attachment to Maegor and her decisions to prioritize her own line over the laws and customs of Westeros and to do the things that she did, no matter how "evil" they might be.
My own theory is, as I've mentioned, that Visenya was a lesbian (or at least a woman attracted to other women) and was jealous of Aegon for having Rhaenys, rather than the historical narrative implying the opposite, and part of her issues with Aegon getting so bad was how Aegon ended the war and their chance to avenge Rhaenys without even consulting her. Mostly because Rhaenys and Visenya's relationship is very important to me, ASOIAF needs more gay characters, and there's a lot that can be played with in the idea that the taboo involved isn't even the incest but simple same sex attraction, and how that factors into the Valyrian culture vs. Westerosi culture debate and how the Targaryens operated in their early years. @ HBO, I'm right here, I'm free and available.
TL;DR, it's certainly possible, but it doesn't seem like Visenya was bothered by Rhaenys entering the marriage or viewed it as a betrayal, and the catalyst for how bad things got with Aegon and Visenya and how it bled over into the succession was Rhaenys's death, not Rhaenys's involvement with Aegon.
#personal#answered#anonymous#visenya targaryen#aegon targaryen#rhaenys targaryen#visenya the conqueror#aegon the conqueror#rhaenys the conqueror#get me talking about visenya and her feelings for rhaenys and everything that happened after she died#and we will be here all day#i have so many thoughts and feelings#i do think that the way the marriages worked was more he first married visenya and then at a later date married rhaenys#mostly cuz i think it would have been mentioned if it was a double wedding#maybe they just waited for aerion to die before they added rhaenys or smth
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Find The Word - Manuscript Search Tag
Thanks for the tag, @merge-conflict! To be honest, I could do this tag game about a thousand times and never get tired of it. 😅
Word #1: Chrome
She was growing very fond of her new body. It had clearly been designed to resemble her old one, although the signs of its fully mechanical nature were not exactly subtle. Wires and chrome were exposed in several places, and she had the impression that the body was meant to be customizable. Maybe limbs could be swapped out, upgraded?
But for the most part, she looked like herself, with the notable absence of the devilish billy goat tattoo branded with the Arasaka logo - the one she’d received courtesy of her former brain parasite. In its stead was the Arasaka logo itself, conspicuous in black against her pale artificial flesh. Whoever’d given her that had a sense of humor.
Word #2: Whisper
No matches. Apparently, I tend to use “spoke/said softly” more often for whatever reason? But, hey, same difference, right?
“It shouldn’t matter how I spoke to Fingers,” V said softly. “I said what I needed to get what I wanted."
Judy still wouldn’t look at her, keeping her gaze stubbornly locked towards the base of the staircase. But V could tell her anger was starting to cool off, and she weighed her actions carefully to avoid rekindling it. She’d stay silent until Judy was ready to talk to her.
Finally, Judy spoke up. “Ends justify the means, huh?”
“Don’t they?" V asked. "If my refusal to antagonize the person who might be able to tell us where Evelyn is leads us to finding her in time to save her life, would you consider that worth it?"
Word #3: Burn
She switched over to the next mode, and the shock of it nearly overburnt her processor. She could sense not only every room on the floor, but every floor in Arasaka Tower - from Izanagi at the bottom to the Night City duplicate of Saburo Arasaka’s office at the top. For a while, she watched the Arasaka employees moving and working throughout the building. In this view, they reminded her of gears in a machine or neurons in a brain. She could recognize a synchronized pattern in their motions, see the order in the chaos.
Word #4: Sky
I shared this blurb already, but it's the only match I have.
“To make the right decisions with imperfect knowledge,” Takemura said, “that is how you become the world’s most powerful man. One hundred candidates standing at attention, and Arasaka-sama looked into each of our souls and chose the one who would serve him best.”
V was gazing away from him, towards the city. The setting sun had transformed the sky into a golden backdrop for Arasaka Industrial Park. Her hands were gripped around the fence that separated her from the sight. A little too hard, maybe. She’d dented the metal in that thoughtless way that only one with arm cyberware can.
“So you did what you had to.” she said.
“I sense that you judge me.” His voice was quiet, with a barely perceptible edge of harshness. “And yet you have no right to. Unlike you and your friend Mr. Welles, I was not arrogant. I did not take the easy path.”
V’s eyes snapped back to Takemura in surprise. “Wasn’t judging you.”
“Untrue.” Takemura insisted. “You oppose the corporations, their order, their world, in a mindless way, yet you offer no worthy alternative.”
V sat in silence. How the fuck’d he gotten that idea? Must be mixing her up with Johnny. But then, she thought, haven’t exactly been acting like myself lately. Even before the Relic.
“You’ve got it all wrong,” she finally said. She shook her head. “I know you think I’m just some common thief, but my values now are the same as when I worked for Arasaka. I believe in doing my job well.”
“There are no clean hands.” Takemura said cryptically. “But it is important how they become dirty.”
V scoffed. “Wish everyone at Arasaka felt that way.”
“As do I.”
Tagging: @another-corpo-rat, @just-a-cybercroissant, @bnbc. No pressure of course!
Words: recognize, eyes, step, error
#tag games#wip#cyberpunk 2077 fanfic#wake up to find you've been branded with the devil's mark and just be like... hmm... rad#😂
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Are there any Elden Ring characters that stuck out to you? Sorry, but I just really want to pick your brain about Elden Ring.
The ones that stuck out to me the most... let's see.
I liked Millicent and the the trajectory of her character, until the very end. It felt like she was hurtling towards some sort of conclusion with Malenia, and then her quest just completely terminated right before that. It felt like the mother of all pulled punches.
Diallos telling the Jar he was tending that it was full of beans was genuinely alarming to me because I didn't know that was a preexisting saying and though it was an insane and probably problematic thing to say to a container, sentient or not.
I loved Melina's almost completely invisible character arc - since she's heavily implied to be some sort of aspect of Marika, including the connection to the Black Knife assassins in their nearly-identical movesets, you can assume that she knows why Marika shattered the Elden Ring (to break the suffocating and warmongering power of the Greater Will), and why she/Radagon work so hard to prevent anyone else from repairing it and ascending to the lordship. So for her to choose her own death and the reconstruction of that power in the name of future generations getting any sort of chance... It's the wrong answer, but it's a completely understandable one, and I like how understated it is.
Ranni is like, undisputable The Guy of this game. The true experience is very clearly meant to be going for her ending, and for once it really does feel like another character is driving towards a conclusion to the game parallel to you, adding an interesting new twist to how they construct their stories. Also, her design is just extremely cool, and the weird way people are horny for her is for once 100% in line with the creator's intentions and thematically appropriate and good. And she's so lowkey corny about the whole thing like!! "(posing dramatically hand on face as if fainting) Pray do not follow me unto my destiny which I must face alone!!" *literally gives you the key to her engagement ring*
I like what Boggart does for the game's tone like in a game this large you can't all be certified grade A fromsoft dialogue freaks like Ranni and Melina. You need a guy that swears by the goddess's tits. Just a dude.
I like Hyetta because she's so freaky like every step of the way.. she's possessing a corpse the whole time to begin with, she's eating eyeballs and going mmmm yummy, she tells you to strip naked for the fingers to burn you.. she's just a weird scary woman, and that rocks!!
hmm, who else... Miquella just sticks out to me I can't stop going over it like a kanker sore. Playing up the androgynous young male trope, symbolizing him with lilies twice over, sticking in the shadow of an older sister... Him literally being the gwyndolin/maria of this game is like. there would be a lot to chew on there, but then you have Mohg and it's just. The rapist pedophile gay uncle associated with evil blood? hello???? it's uh, certainly some of fromsoft's loudest writing.
the mimic tear ash is also dope he isn't even a summon to me. He's just a guy who's got my back.
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extra help | gojo satoru
what’s a teacher to do when his student is building up so much cursed energy? help her get it under control, of course.
pairing: gojo satoru x f!reader
wc: 4.7k
warnings: smut, 18+ (minors dni), teacher/student relations (reader is of age), fingering, oral (f receiving), dirty talk, sir kink, unprotected sex (do not do this), lowkey corruption, squirting, exhibitionism (?), creampie, gojo refers to himself as “teacher” because i said so
note: barely edited, something to ease the brainrot. gojo satoru hollow me challenge.
“Can you maybe, I don’t know, shut the fuck up?”
The jab spews out of your mouth before you can stop it. Your filter is long gone, the thoughts that pop into your head forming into verbal words without the chance to even process them. Once you hear it, you mentally slap yourself. Now you just look like an asshole.
“Jeez, no need to be a bitch about it,” mutters Nobara. She rests on the concrete steps on her elbows, appearing utterly disinterested with her head tossed back and eyes closed, soaking in the fresh air.
“I’m not being a bitch.”
“Yes, you are.”
“I’m not!”
“You kind of are,” Megumi says quietly, shrugging slightly when your incredulous expression finds his to be stoic and unmoving. He leans down to scratch behind one of his dog’s ears. His nonchalance boils your blood even further, effectively working you up past your melting point. A bitter laugh leaves your mouth.
“...You motherfucker-”
“Good morning, everybody!”
You sigh, lips hanging open with the rest of your insult frozen where it was interrupted. From over the small hill behind you, Gojo Satoru greets everyone with a bright energy you aren’t capable of returning this early in the day.
You try your best to shake it off. The other students wave back happily as you sulk, aimlessly stretching your arms over your head in an attempt to push out the thousand things running through your mind, not one of which you’re capable of dealing with.
And maybe it is a good morning - the sun is out, the air is cool, there’s not a breeze passing by to mess up your hair. It’s a lovely day to be training. Megumi has been walking his dogs around the field, Yuuji has been racing himself from one end to the other, meanwhile the others take turns sparring. The springtime weather is rewarding, which is why it’s such a shame you can’t enjoy it.
Gojo reaches up a hand to lift one side of his blindfold. Though he’s standing all the way over on the steps, you can see his eyes clearly, crystalline blue and staring with scrutiny. The man leans forward into his gaze, and the way he’s inspecting you soon irritates you further.
“What’s with all the cursed energy?” he asks, letting his blindfold fall over his eye again.
Yuuji perks up at the comment from where he’s been sitting after his run, pulling out blades of grass between his fingertips. “So it’s not just me?” he pipes up, pushing himself up to his feet. He seems relieved, turning his attention to you. “I thought maybe you just had a bad day but it seems like it’s seeping off you all the time now.”
Your lips press into a thin line as your eyelids droop in annoyance, trying to think up a reasonable answer quick. Unfortunately, you don’t get the time to do so.
“I don’t need to see it to feel it,” Maki adds. She finishes tying up her laces, objectivity unmoving with the deadpan spreading across your features. Your jaw tenses. “Didn’t want to say anything in case it would make you angrier.”
“Too late!” you snap, huffing as you place your arms over your chest. The number of eyes on you has your cheeks burning, and paired with your current vexation, makes you feel even worse.
“Well, what are you angry about?” Yuuji asks.
“I’m not angry about anything.”
“That sounds a little defensive,” Gojo comments.
“You seem frustrated, that’s all.” Yuuji looks at you with a genuine curiosity that makes it hard to be mad at him. His doe eyes couldn’t possibly imagine what the real issue at hand is.
“Yeah, she’s frustrated all right,” Nobara juts in. Her tone is whiney and annoyed, and you hope the glare you send her will shut her up, but she acts as if she doesn’t see it, only looking down at her nails in distaste. Then comes the zinger. “It’s because she hasn’t gotten laid in months.”
“That is not true!” you yell, but the obvious rage bubbling out of you gives it away.
“Cursed energy can build from that?”
“It would explain a lot.”
“That sounds definitely defensive.”
“Shut up!” you shout, throwing your hands over your face to hide your cheeks burning in embarrassment. Then you’re sitting back on the field, hanging your head low over your knees. Quietly, you mutter, “You promised you wouldn’t say anything.”
☆☆☆
“You wanted to see me, sir?”
The walk here had been nerve wracking enough. Your heart had been stuck in your throat since the track this morning, if not from the sheer embarrassment of Nobara telling everyone you were sexually frustrated, then surely from the way Gojo had asked you to meet with him later in an old classroom rather seriously before walking off.
It scared you half to death upon hearing it, and just thinking about it scared the other half, so you’re hanging on by the thinnest of threads. The others comments hadn’t helped either, teasing about the frightening methods he’d use to dispel the energy, or how he’d berate you for being so stupid, or whatever else the maniac of a man had to offer.
Gojo leans back lazily in his chair, long legs thrown over the desk for his comfort and leisure. He stretches, letting out a satisfied groan with his arms straightened behind his head as you close the door behind you.
“About time you got here. Been waiting forever.”
The lights are off, but evening sun pours in through the wall of windows that look out over the courtyard to brighten the room. He tosses a small apple plush above him with a smooth flick of his wrist, catching it on its down arc with ease. It looks like a marble with how it sits in his massive palms.
“Well, this wing is on the other side of campus,” you swallow, fiddling with your fingers absentmindedly. That reminds you...“Why are we this far, anyway?”
He sighs, placing the toy back down at the top of his desk and resting his chin on his palm. You can feel his eyes on you through his blindfold. “To solve your problem, of course.”
“My… my problem? No, I don’t have any problems,” you say with a shake of your head as genuine as you can muster, a nervous smile flashing across your expression as he stands. His hand trails along the desk as he moves around it. When you get the feeling he doesn’t believe you, you start again, “If it’s about what Nobara said, it’s really no big deal-”
“While you’re a talented sorcerer, you’re not a very good liar.” He comes to a stop in front of you, towering over your small frame. His head is turned down toward you but you refrain from making eye contact. Trying to maintain your composure, you look straight into his chest and then avert your eyes to the sid, looking anywhere else in the room but him - the chalkboard, the windows, the posters on the wall - that is, until he takes your chin in his hand and tugs your face up to look at him directly.
He’s taken off his blindfold, the black cloth crumpled in his palm and already tossed to the floor.
The way you’re staring at him, that desire that lies just below the fear, has his dick tenting in his pants. When he focuses, he can see the cursed energy radiating from your body, dark and cloudy as it surrounds you. “Yuuji’s right, it’s practically seeping from you,” he coos, eyebrows drawn together in concern.
He drinks in your apprehension with a sadistic sort of delight, and you don’t miss the feel of his eyes as they trace down your body. “My student is struggling,” he says tenderly, tapping his index finger along your cheek lightly. “What kind of teacher would I be if I didn’t help?”
He eats up the way you look at him, swept away and hazy, your brain turning to mush at the sound of his voice. Heat pools in your panties, and the subtle manner in which your thighs shift against each other is not lost on him.
The tension in the air is electrifying. Leaning down to your ear, he says what’s been on his mind for weeks. “Don’t think I can’t hear you at night, touching yourself, trying so hard to make it go away on your own.”
His words leave your throat dry and stomach churning. Your face burns, thinking of him listening to your pitiful attempts to get off. Clearly, the sleepless nights of trying to cum, letting slip the small whimpers you couldn’t care to hold back, hands buried in your panties and writhing in your bed sheets, were no secret to anyone but you.
You’re almost mortified. You would be, if it wasn’t for your hot teacher standing in front of you, smiling as he remembers how pretty you sounded, offering to fuck the shit out of you to sate your frustration.
And god, just how pretty you sound. He’d never admit it sober, but the times he’s taken “random” late night walks around the buildings that have ended up at the outside of your bedroom door are far too many to count. Palming himself through his trousers, panting as he pictures you just through the slab of wood exactly how he plans on having you now.
“I...I don’t know if we should be doing this,” you mumble in a moment of clarity, gaze flickering to the window in the door that lets you see into the empty hallway just outside. Swallowing hard, scenarios of your classmates walking by, peering through, clouds your head. “What if someone…”
“They’re on the other side of campus, remember?” he teases. His fingers slide back along your jaw, brushing your hair from your forehead before settling to cup the side of your face. “You can make all the noise you want out here.”
Heat spreads through your core and inner thighs accompanied by a visible shiver, a pleased grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. The proximity alone is making you wet. His presence is overwhelming with the unimaginable power he holds over you.
His neck tilts down to reach you, hovering with his lips not a breath away from yours. Gojo waits. Tentative, you press your mouth to his and your eyes flutter shut, feeling him smile as his hands make contact with your hips. He’s gentle and slow, his lips pillowy and soft against yours, moving carefully as if not to scare you away.
He muffles a timid whimper with his mouth and takes the lead, kissing you harder and pulling you into a firm lip lock before spinning you around and walking you backwards toward the desk. Hesitant hands reach up to his shoulders, something Gojo senses immediately, shy hands working up the confidence to splay over his broad shoulders. He knows you so well by now - there’s a reason you’re his favorite student.
“Let me help, princess,” he insists, breaking away to quell your uncertainty. “You know I’m the only one who can.” Gojo’s voice is hypnotizing, his promises filling your head with a desiring haze.
Your tiny, timid fingers hanging around his neck, crawling up his nape as if searching for safety, have him reeling. He might just devour you, so cute and innocent and willing in front of him.
You’re melting into his touch as his hands squeeze your hips, rubbing up your sides until they lay a firm grasp on your hips, sitting you fully on the desk. His touch is teasing and featherlight as he drags it up your calves, hiking up your skirt to get where he wants to be, situated right between your thighs.
“None of the other guys fuck you the way you need to be fucked, right?”
He may be cocky, but it’s for good reason.
Gojo Satoru is older, he’s experienced, he knows what he’s doing. He knows you, in fact, more than you think. Don’t be fooled - he sees you sneaking off campus, sees the texts you send to the boys in the nearest town, overhears how you talk to them over the phone when you think no one is listening. He also sees how disappointed you look every time you return from one of your escapades.
You’re mature for your age, but no one is willing to fuck you like it. Except him, of course.
A large hand cradles the back of your head to keep kissing you. His mouth is ravishing, absolutely eating up the feeble mewls that escape you. Deft fingers unbutton your uniform with ease and slip it down your shoulders to reveal your chest as if he’s done it a thousand times.
He moves to unclasp your bra, but is surprised to meet your bare skin. He pulls back from your mouth to meet your eyes, and you already know what he’s thinking with the way he looks down at you, head tilted back with a dark mirth.
“No bra?” he inquires, rolling your perky buds between his fingers, and your lack of verbal response, that guilt in the slight raise of your eyebrows, tells him everything he needs to know. “Naughty girl. Makes me think you were expecting this.” He makes you purr like a kitten, free hand kneading at your chest, coaxing out sweet little noises that make his dick throb in his pants.
You inhale sharply at a particular tweak of your nipple that has your body tingling, arching into him. “Sir, I-”
His mouth is on your neck, sucking on that sensitive spot below your ear, just next to your jaw. The feel of his teeth gently scraping down sends chills through your shoulders and down your back, subconsciously tilting your head to the side and exposing more to him, inviting him to your body even further.
“It’s okay, you can tell me how bad you need my cock,” he says against your skin.
Your body flushes hot beneath him. A hand cups your clothed core. The friction has your hips lifting in desperate motions for more, pushing against his fingers for some kind of relief.
“Poor thing, too horny for your own good,” he says, peering down at you. He tugs at the tiny, delicate bow sewn into the lace band of your panties, a smug expression passing over his features. “But don’t worry, teacher’s here to make you feel better.”
He hooks his pointer finger underneath the center of your panties and pulls it up, forcing the fabric taught against your slit between your folds, urging a cry to fall from your lips. You’re absolutely aching for more, pussy desperate for contact as your hips buck. His opposite thumb goes straight to your swollen clit where it bulges through the thin cotton, reducing you to whines as he applies light pressure.
“So sensitive,” he says with a teasing lilt in his tone, caught between looking at your pussy and your dazed expression. “You want my fingers?”
He knows he’s supposed to be helping you, but he can’t stop himself with how cute you look like this. He’s already thinking of just how far he can push you, just what he can get you to admit to him.
“Yes, please,” you’re begging, pulling your lips under your teeth, and how can he say no? He has no other choice but to indulge you.
He pulls your panties to the side and finally, his long, thick fingers sink inside you without warning, pushing a lewd moan from your throat.
He groans at the way you pulse around his digits. Your walls suck him right in. “Fuck, look at your pretty little cunt. Feels good, huh?”
Your mouth falls open as you nod, staring at him through half-mast, glassy eyes. Light amusement covers his face as he works your walls diligently, curling up and massaging that spongy spot he knows you like from the sounds you’re making.
“Yeah, I know it does. Need it so bad, don’t you?”
“Yes, ah, need it so much,” you whine. At this point, you’d follow his every command, answer his every question, if it means he’ll keep doing what he’s doing. He connects his lips to yours again, swallowing up the noises that leave your throat, before moving down. He trails his mouth over your sensitive, flushed skin, burning to the touch as he leaves harsh, bruising marks behind. He’s kneeling down and throwing your legs over his shoulders without hesitation.
He has you desperate and shameless with how he’s making you feel. It doesn’t matter that he’s your teacher, it doesn’t matter that you’ll have to face him in class after the fact, all that matters is how hot and aching your core is, how bad you need him there to fix it. “More, sir, p-please.”
He groans at the name you’ve given him, that you’re addressing him by so earnestly. He never even asked you to, so when it spills out of your mouth so submissively, he can’t help the way it goes straight to his cock. “So polite, aren’t you? Let me hear you, be specific.”
His fingers leave you clenching around nothing as he pulls them out of you, watching the string of slick stretch until it breaks. He slips them right into his mouth, licking your arousal off of his fingers, humming in delight.
You’re fixated on his glossy, wet lips, entranced by the slight smile to his words. “Please, your mouth,” you plead breathlessly through a gulp.
He presses a chaste kiss to the plush of your thigh, eyes flicking up to meet yours. His lips ghost over the tops of your knee socks and nip at the slight pudge that squeezes out.
“Since you asked so nicely,” he murmurs. Then, he’s diving in, latching his warm, wet mouth onto your pussy. You feel yourself gush under his lips as his tongue laves harsh strokes against your entrance. He has you quivering, your hips moving on their own accord over his face.
You squirm under his relentless tongue, swiping through your slick and spreading it all over your inner thighs. He laps at your fluttering hole before suckling your clit into his mouth, hot tongue flicking over it before releasing with a playful pop.
He thrives off of the whimpers leaving your mouth. A loud moan tears from you as his fingers plunge into you again, hands shooting to his snowy locks to ground yourself. You’re throwing your head back, keening in the firm grip he has pushing back your leg, his tongue swiping at you expertly while the pads of his fingers curl up into the spot you need him at, keeping his head pressed tight to your drooling cunt.
Pointed flicks of his tongue target your clit, puffy and sensitive, and you can’t help the way your hips buck up for more, babbling nonsense. His firm muscle prods at your hole before flattening and licking wide and short strokes up your folds.
“Aw, you wanna cum, don’t you? Gonna cum for me like a good girl?”
You only have the strength to nod, eyes squeezing shut and your lips parted in choked breaths.
“Look at me,” he commands sternly, and your lids are prying open immediately, struggling to keep your gaze on him with the pleasure he’s relentlessly forcing on your body. His plump lips are lustrous with your arousal. “Go ahead. Cum.”
His eyes bore into you as your face contorts, body tensing all over as you tip over the edge. That coil in your stomach which Gojo has so masterfully built snaps like a rubber band, shattering your mind as pleasure ripples through your body. You’re still as your release surges through you, making him moan against your pussy.
“That’s it, there you go,” he says with a growl as you take your first breath after the inhibiting pleasure fades, eyes darkening as he watches you, keeping pressure on your nub with his thumb, smooth strokes working you through your high.
He carefully helps you drop to your feet, rubbing soothing circles into your hips, planting kisses to your temples before spinning you around to face the desk. You’re wobbly, but it’s nothing he can’t compensate for with his natural strength.
“Gonna take such good care of you,” he mumbles, large hands exploring the expanse of your back. He pushes you down, gentle fingers trailing up your spine until they find their hold on your hips like they were meant to be, loving how pliant you are beneath him.
The anticipation has you dripping, heart pounding as he flips up your skirt again, pussy aching to be filled. You hear the tugging of his trousers down to the floor, and a hefty exhale as he gives himself a few strokes in his palm.
His cock, hot and heavy and hard, presses into you slowly. You feel his girth immediately, cunt stretching deliciously to accommodate his size. It’s instant relief, finally the pleasure you’ve been desperate for, a drug you have to be careful of or you might just get addicted.
“Fuck,” he groans lowly, “So fuckin’ tight for me.”
You’re stuffed to the brim, focusing on how full you are, his fingers massaging the flesh of your ass as he gives you a moment to adjust. He feels his self-restraint thinning as you squeeze him. He’s gonna make you drool for him, make his cute innocent student into his little whore, make sure teacher’s the only one who touches you like this.
At first, his pace is slow and steady, sensual pumps that expertly drag against your gummy walls. You can feel his tip spreading you open, every burning curve and vein and ridge of his head as your pussy molds to him. But once your legs start shifting back for more, he speeds up the rocking of his hips, fucking you brainless on his cock.
“How we feeling, princess?” he pants. He’s the only thing you can think about, mind scrambled from the white hot feel of being fucked so well.
He doesn’t have to ask to know - the string of heedless whimpers that you make are evidence enough, on top of the obscene squelches that echo every time he pounds into your sopping cunt. He pulls your wrists back from where they cling to the desk, white knuckled, to your sides. A strong arm snakes around your front, pinning your arms and waist close to his chest, caging you in while the other seeks purchase on your breast.
“F-Fuck, I- ah - so good, sir,” you sob, feeling your brain blank with the way his grip moves up to your neck, expertly pushing into the sides to cut off your blood flow. It’s dizzying, your pussy tightening around him for more.
And then he stops.
You’re about to whine, your walls fluttering around him, begging him to move, when his hand reaches to cover your mouth. He shushes you gently, snapping quietly towards the door.
Someone is calling your name outside. “Hellooo? Hey Y/N, you over here?” It’s Yuuji, pacing the upper floor, walking straight down the hall and soon to pass the very door.
Your heart jolts in panic - why would he come looking for you? Why would anyone? The whole point of being out here was so that no one would come, right?
“Sorry to go back on my word, princess,” Gojo whispers. A wave of his hand creates a small masking barrier in front of the window, but it does nothing to hide the sound. “Gonna have to keep quiet for me. Can you do that?”
You nod your head, wiggling back against his hips pressed hard and unmoving to your ass. He pulls out slow and thrusts back, mindful of the noise of contact. It takes all your focus to bite back your moans.
“Don’t want your classmates seeing how slutty you are for a good fuck, do you? What if they walked in, saw you like this on your teacher’s cock?”
The thought has your hole constricting his length. You can already envision Yuuji’s shocked expression as he stares you down, his respected senior, nothing more than a babbling mess as Gojo Satoru fucks you raw in an empty classroom. The man behind you holds back a laugh.
The footsteps pass without the hint of something much filthier than extra help transpiring beyond the thin walls. You think you might have even seen a tuft of pink hair whizz by in the corner of your vision - whatever the matter, he’s gone, and you can finally catch your breath.
“Dirty girl,” Gojo rasps from behind you, slamming into you roughly, a sinister smile tugging at the corners of his lips while his fingers force themselves into your mouth, “you - hah - you fucking love it.”
That spring in the base of your tummy starts to coil taut, rising faster than ever. “Love it,” you choke, stimulated tears forming at your lash line, “love it so much!”
His pace is relentless, your slick gushing all around him. He’s building you up just to break you down, the only one who can help you take the edge off.
“Tell me what you want,” he says through gritted teeth, “I’ll give it to you.”
Holding you tight to his chest with locked arms, he completely covers your body with his tall stature, inescapable and confining.
“Fuck, wanna - wanna cum so bad, so bad, sir.”
His large hand trails its way over your waist, soft fingers moving down, down, until they slip right over that little sensitive bundle at your front, cool and wet, that has your breath catching audibly in your throat.
Gojo places his mouth just behind your ear, tone soft and sultry. The pad of his index finger rubs firm circles over your swollen, aching clit. It elicits a filthy sound from you that makes his cock twitch inside you. “Right there, huh?” He feels you clench as your legs tremble beneath him.
Your climax crashes over you in hot, unforgiving waves, tightening your walls and creaming all over every inch of his length. “Come on, give it all to teacher,” he encourages through heavy pants, making your skin prickle, and it’s just what you need. A chorus of loud, high pitched, breathless moans tumbles from your mouth as you ride it out.
You’re drenching his fingers, making a mess as your squirt drips down and coats his cock, making him growl into your hair. He coaches you through it, stringing out his praises, “Just like that, mhm, good girl.”
His eyes fall shut as your cunt suffocates his cock, feeling his hips stutter as you suck him in. With a guttural, hungry groan, he’s burying his load in your waiting hole. He snaps against you once, twice more, hard and quick as he starts to come down.
A moment passes to catch your breaths, heartbeats beginning to slow in tandem. Gojo nuzzles his face into the back of your neck and sighs before placing an affectionate kiss there.
Your legs are jelly beneath you so he’s careful when he releases his grasp, slowly turning you around to face him and sit back on the desk.
“You alright?” he asks, wiping away the wetness under your eyes.
It’s safe to say that you’re relieved, in more ways than one. Your shoulders feel lighter and as does your chest, like everything you’ve been shackled to has been lifted off with a good fuck.
“Yeah, much better.” There’s a tired grin to your words.
He wipes away the sheen of sweat that has collected on his hairline and reaches over you to grab a few tissues off the desk. He’s gentle as he cleans you up, dabbing up sweat and cum from where it drips down your thighs.
“You should get some rest. I’ll get you out of class tomorrow morning if you need it. Make up an excuse or something.” He pulls up his own trousers and helps you button up your top again, then lowering you back to the floor so you can be on your way.
“Let me know if you ever need any more assistance,” he winks, patting the top of your head. He smooths down a few stray hairs, putting you back together in at least a somewhat presentable way. “My help is always available to students that need it.”
Because while all that cursed energy may be under control, your relations are far from over.
#gojo satoru smut#gojo satoru x reader#gojo x reader#gojou satoru smut#gojo smut#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader smut#jjk smut#jjk x reader#gojo satoru x reader smut#gojo x reader smut#gojou satoru x reader
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Lust — Kaz Brekker
Gif by @kitsyoung
Request: “Hey. I really like your writing and I was wondering if you would consider writing a Kaz piece with the smut prompts 76, 1 & 33. Obviously with your au rules. If it’s too much I completely understand tho”
“7, 17, 36, and 73 from the smut list for Kaz Brekker please? If not, no worries! 💖 Thank you!”
“Holy shit that last kaz brekker smut- AMAZING. Was wondering if you could write another smut with smut prompt #6? Of course if this bothers you just ignore it. Thank you so much 🥰”
Smut prompts:
1. “You look so good with my hand wrapped around your throat.”
6. “Do you think of me when you touch yourself?”
7. “The only way you’re getting off is on my thigh.”
17. “after that little stunt? you’re not getting off that easy”
33. “Maybe I should get you a collar so you don’t forget who you belong to.”
36. "If I have to pull over, you won’t be able to walk for the next week.“
73. “You know, you look real pretty when you cry.”
76. “Shh, don’t worry, I’ll take very good care of you.”
Couple: Kaz Brekker/ Fem!Reader
Warnings: swearing, explicit smut, dirty thoughts, dirty talk, nsfw, jealous, mention of fight.
Word count: 5k
A/N: All smut requests for Kaz must follow these rules.
Thank you so much for the requests and for all affection 💖 I decided to compile these requests, since they were the same central plot. I added all the elements that were asked for individually, and made sure that all ideas were respected and written down. I hope you like it and good reading.
English is not my first language, so I so sorry if have a mistake.
Requests are open. Love you ❤️
— — — — —
There is a theory that always, somewhere, there will be a person capable of making you lose your breath, and your reasoning, whenever he appears on the scene. Someone who robs you of your breath, your heartbeat, your ability to think clearly and your control to keep your hands not shaking.
And Kaz Brekker would always be that person for you.
From the first time you laid eyes on him, it's been a feeling of dying and going to heaven. Except that Heaven was, in reality, a hot, burning hell. Where your greatest punishment was being forced to watch his tall figure, who exuded masculinity by every inch, walking in front of you like a Renaissance painting very superb.
Nothing that Van Gogh, Da Vinci, and Picasso created has bordered on the personification of beauty that he was.
Kaz was beautiful in a very mysterious, dangerous and chilling way. You would describe his aura as the height of midnight in an enigmatic city, his hair the color of the core of sin and his features as lines that the god Ares would have drawn. Everything about him reeked of the fog of suspense stories, with a touch of lust.
All the looks he directed at you were caustic, flickering and intense as a candle flame, reverberating through your veins like angry eels and always make the room feeling charged with electricity, like the ground after the fall of a lightning. Everything between the two of you seemed to be filled with something fiery and arcane. From the gazes, the rubbing of shoulders, the times when the skins touched. Everything was a compilation of sensations that make you catch your breath whenever Kaz Brekker appeared.
He was your kryptonite. In all senses.
And that was exasperating in the extreme, at staggering levels. You felt your center of your sex vibrate whenever he directed you that voice whit baritone intonation and predatory looks, whenever the button-down shirts were tight enough for you to revel in the contours of his body, or sometimes when he wore the cane to signal or stopper something. This was the worst of them. His cane.
Have you lost count of how many times Kaz stopped you as counting money, by putting the tip of the cane over your hands, or stopped you from going somewhere by blocking your path with the cane, lifting the object horizontally in front of your belly. And every time you felt your legs tremble, your breath fade and a very dirty part of your brain whisper that you wanted him to use that object in you in more fun ways.
Your body was so responsive that there were times when you knew, with every fiber of your soul, that Kaz was able to read the paths in which your thoughts wandered. He lowered his gaze to you, in that breathless connection that promised to contain the most nefarious paths of sin, and maliciously curved the left corner of his lips in an arrogant, oblique expression. At such times, you could feel in your soul the words he did not say:
I know the perverted things that you are thinking.
And the truth was, he really knew. Kaz memorized every change in your breathing, every blush on your cheeks, every trembling of your hands, every your trembling look whit a frightened girl who had been caught thinking of something impure. He knew how your body was responsive, needy. And he himself had to control himself not to push you over the desk in his office and fuck you like an aggressive animal, bringing all your perverted thoughts to life.
It wasn't his physical reactions that kept him from taking action, but an even more visseral reaction than the pulsing desire he felt for you. Mine. The primal, determined, burning sensation of possession. That it ran through his veins like hot, bubbling lava. The desire was familiar, but this statement, not. Like the jealousy he felt for you, he quickly recognized the danger he was in.
If Kaz touched you…he knew he would never be able to let you go.
Mine. A statement that resonated spontaneously whenever he saw you, a testament to the reactions the two of you triggered in each other. However, not even the awareness of the dangerous game that was between you was able to dispel the climate of provocative sensuality that pulsed in the places whenever the two of you were together.
It was like playing with a powerful drug. One slip and he would be addicted forever.
On days like this, when Kaz had just come out of an exasperating meeting with Peka, a businessman and mobster who was always looking for ways to try and bring Kaz down, his already bad temper turned to terrible. He felt compelled to break something, drink a whole bottle of the best English whiskey in that club, and punch someone. Kaz felt the anger pulse through his veins, in a pure and perfect way.
He left the office, turning off his cell phone so he wouldn't be disturbed and descending the stairs to the center of his Crow Club, mind buzzing and anger seeping in his blood. He needed to unwind, maybe get into the car and head home. Maybe actually drink that whiskey bottle. Maybe both.
Kaz was about to take another step down, running a gloved hand through his hair to get it out of his eyes, when his gaze met your figure. And that was when the already terrible temper rose to the very badly.
Normally, a vision like that would have just bothered him, a compulsion to do something. But that day, Kaz was at the height of his angriest feelings. And seeing you, bold as a goddess in that little black dress, next to Jesper at the gambling table and flirting with a guy to your left, did things with every last bit of patience and self-control he had.
His eyes never left you as he took another step, running his hand through his hair again to contain the unruly strands. You were laughing, downing another drink and placing a card on the table. You turn back to the man to your left, your eyelashes fluttered gracefully in a promise to allow him to guide your rein tonight.
But there would be no goddamn rein for that fucking guy to guide.
Kaz gripped his cane tightly, descending the other short stairs and advancing toward your with dangerous, determined, and angry steps.
"...in this part of the year, criminal law cases drop a lot." The damn guy was telling you, his boring blond hair falling over his blue eyes in a way Kaz found annoying.
To fucking hell with that blond-haired Dande.
“Y/n, Jesper!” Kaz tapped the end of his cane on the table, stopping the cards under the polished wooden end.
Everyone at the table looked at him startled, their actions frozen. He saw you swallow hard, a soft tremor sigh in your shoulders.
Good!
“Shouldn't you be at the door?” Kaz turned to Jesper, his eyes sparks with annoyance.
“Right now, Boss.” He stood up, giving you a strained smile and heading towards the door.
“Kaz…” You started, voice softly intoxicated.
You knew you weren't supposed to be at the gambling table, let alone so late at night and drunk, even if Jesper was by your side. You had the ability to win every play, in any game, and that ended up not only driving the others away, but leaving the men, already drunk and irrational, aggressive and with an extremely bruised ego. And they almost always wanted to retaliate physically. As much as there were security guards and cameras everywhere to keep something bad from happening, Kaz couldn't stand the thought of someone hurting you. Not even blinking insultingly in your direction.
He sent you an icy, sharp, steady look. A clear warning for you to stop there any excuse you were about to give. To be careful with the next words you would say. You swallowed hard, looking away and getting up from the table. Slightly wobbly from the drink, you fished your coat from the chair next to you, giving a strained, apologetic smile to the guy you'd been flirting with so far.
“I better go home and call an uber and…” You started, but Kaz cut your sentence.
“I'll driver you.”
His tone exuded annoyance and impatience, giving no opening to any objections, demonstrating that he was in no mood for games. Much less defiance of his orders. You knew him too well to recognize that that night had pulled his nerves beyond what he could handle, the strain and irritation in his eyes told you something had happened beyond what you knew. His jaw, straight and strong as glass, was clenched tightly, his night-colored hair was disheveled in an overwhelmingly attractive way, and his black robes sinfully marred every line of his body.
You should have become wary of the dangerous energy that he exuded through every pore at that moment. However, to your inebriated and excited brain, Kaz Brekker has never looked so fucking hot! Your underbelly vibrated in response to the personification of sin that Kaz was, your heart racing at alarming levels as you followed him out, walking over to his car.
Like every piece of Brekker's clothing, his car was sleek black, with big black wheels, tinted glass and dark leather seats. Hades' chariot. You felt your breath catch when Kaz opened the passenger door for you, his eyes avoiding yours, his jaw still clenched and dangerous energy exhaling through every fiber of his tall, lean body.
Holy Mother of God, this man was a perdition!
Kaz contained an instinctive desire to go back inside and tell that aspiring Dande that you weren't available. Instead, he closed the door when you got in and turned around in the car, closing his own and squeezing the steering wheel harder than he would have liked.
Midnight height light streamed in through the darkened car windows and gently illuminated the curve of your cheek, highlighting your skin that Kaz might have named the color of the gods. So much attention was too seductive. Emotions and reactions still bubbled through each his vein like scandant water, mingling with months of frustrated desires and burning sexual tension.
At that moment, jealousy laced him. Mine. Amazing and at the same time propelled by dangerous strength, Kaz tried to trap that feeling back into the dungeon of his soul. He controlled his fury, yet he couldn't completely tame. Annoyance turned to anger. Starting driving the car forward, Kaz tried to think of anything but how you looked like the Goddess Aphrodite on that dark bench. Splendid as a heat ray in a winter day.
“Kaz…” You started, that gentle, repentant tone that stirred every spark in his soul.
He hated how his name on your lips sounded so sensual, so right and so delicious. He would give everything he had to hear you moan his name.
“Don't start” he warned, now not because of latent annoyance, but because he didn't know if he could stop himself if he heard your voice.
However, you didn't make things any easier for him.
"You don't have to be so angry." You go "I wasn't even using all my intellect on the game, I wasn't trying to win."
Kaz didn't even know if that was the core of the problem anymore. Was he angry that you went to a table where it was dangerous? Yes. But the waters were much deeper than that, much more dangerous. The way your smile, sweet and sensual, was directed at that guy, reeled in Kaz's mind, impregnated with the plague. He felt the blood burn in his veins just remembering how melted you looked for that man. And as much as he couldn't blame you, because you were free and single, the primal, irrational part of him screamed so much louder now.
Mine.
“This does not matter anymore.” It was the only thing he managed to say, the very sensations drowning him.
“And it wasn't even that dangerous.” But unlike him, you were obliterating the burning emotions that Kaz exuded. “There were only a few players drunker than a door, and Jesper was on my side, and also James, who was very charming and...”
Kaz almost lost direction, making the car bounce smoothly. He staked his eyes at you, puzzled and bubbling.
“James?”
“Yeah, the blond guy who…”
"I don't want to know, Y/n." He cut you off "I don't want to hear about the guys you allow to drool around you like mangy dogs."
The distilled rage was impossible to contain, and before Kaz knew it, the words were out. He turned forward again, his hands tighter on the steering wheel.
“Wait…” Your tone was slightly smug, and the way you rubbed one thigh against the other was impossible for Kaz to miss.
The grip on the steering wheel tightened.
“You are jealous?” Your intonation dropped to a low, sensual, provocative level.
Suddenly, Kaz's entire body became very aware of your body inches away. He could feel the heat that you radiated and the lyrical, sweet and sinful scent of your perfume flooded all his senses. The air grew thin, puffy and stuffy, and if it had been December cold outside, Kaz would still feel the height of summer in that car. Flashes of excitement and danger rippled through the car, and the brief silence grew even more charged with sexual tension and lustful anticipation that stirred every fiber of Kaz's being.
He made the mistake of looking at you again, and your softly mischievous smile that promised a lifetime of satisfied desires only served to incite his madness. Kaz had never understood how a man could want a woman so badly that he acted irrationally and carelessly. But now he understood. And when he realized you tried to stifle a sensual sigh from the way he was looking at you, his body won the fight against his mind and Kaz stopped abruptly the car at the red traffic light.
The sexual tension between you had become unbearable. In one moment, Kaz was fighting the series of overwhelming and disturbing emotions that dominated his entire being, and in the next moment, he had taken your mouth with his in a fiery, fierce, animal kiss. Stealing all the air from both of you, his thoughts, and his sanity.
He held your face firmly in his hands, his fingers going down to the strands of hair at the nape of your neck, turning everything into something more caustic and desperate. Yours hands went to his arms, moving up to his shoulders and cupping the sides of his neck, pulling him closer. Kaz's tongue inched into your mouth without waiting for permission, conquering and claiming every fiber of your body, of your soul, in a continued of kisses you couldn't tell where one ended and another began.
The moan of satisfaction you let out gave him a lust and desire unlike anything Brekker had ever felt. Like hot, addictive honey down in his throat. He was still gripped by jealousy, annoyance and possessiveness. With the desire for you pulsing in his body just like his heartbeat.
Kaz pulled back millimetrically, his blue eyes overshadowed by the heat of the moment, his lips red and swollen from the sinful kisses he gave you. At that moment, Kaz Brekker looked like an angry young God, and you've never felt more attracted to someone in your life than you are now.
You looked at him, panting and needy, wishing with all your might that he repeat the same actions. And you knew he realized that. Perfectly. You saw the spark of male satisfaction ignite in his eyes as he absorbed your desire. He was so close... so very close, and you couldn't stand the enormous anxiety for a caress, a kiss, anything.
His cocky smile intensified as you put more pressure in your touch his skin, your fingers trailing down his neck and back to his shoulders, silently pleading for him to do something with you. Anything he wanted.
Kaz lowered his one gloved hand to your jaw, thumb and forefinger squeezing your chin and making you look at him directly, you staring into the deep, shrewd blue of his eyes. He pulled you closer by the grip on your chin, the husky, erotic words hitting your lips like a promise of sin as he said:
“Maybe I should get you a collar so you don't forget who you belong to.”
It was impossible to control the loud, needy sigh that escaped, your center throbbing in despair and wetting the thin cloth of your panties. You wanted he to touch you more, pull your body against his until there was not a single sigh left, claim your soul and your body as his. You had parted your lips to say something, most likely a plea for him to continue, but the traffic light turned green and Kaz took his hands off you, straightening up on the bench and putting the car move.
In the absence of his warmth, his body, you felt cold, empty and frozen. As if Kaz were your sun and you were Icarus. Feeling the compulsion to need to get closer, complete its magnitude and bask in his rays. Every cell in your body begged for him, in needy and submissive requests, telling you to accept anything he told you, that he gave you, as long as it touched you.
“If I knew that to make you kiss me I would have to flirt with someone else, I would have done it a long time ago.” You teased, a satisfied, malicious smile on your lips.
Kaz looked at you in annoyance. In a clear warning that you should never more do that again.
"If you wanted me to kiss you like the brat you are, you just needed to have asked." He countered your game to the full.
"But if I want more than that?" But just as he knew how to play, so did you.
You swiped the tip of your tongue across your lips, kicking off your shoes and pulling your legs over the dashboard of the car, exposing your nearly bare thighs through the thin black fabric of your dress. Your actions instantly caught Kaz's eyes, and his grip on the steering wheel grew stronger and his breathing heavier.
The air inside the car became more ardent, burn, charged with eroticism and lust that left both of you breathless. An electrifying energy coursed through their bodies, as if they had been struck by a bolt of fire. You wanted him in a way you never thought you could want anyone.
Kaz took a deep breath, and looked at you with dangerous predator eyes as he said:
"If I have to pull over, you won't be able to walk for the next week."
The words made your body tremble. But if Kaz was trying to dissuade you, that was the last thing he should have told you. Instead of taming the fire inside you, it threw gasoline into the aggressive fire. You pressed your thighs together, your body sensitive to his words filled with burning promise.
In five minutes of insane courage, you took your feet off the dashboard, leaned toward Kaz, and brushed his neck with your lips. In slow, burning, hot kisses, you traced a path to the pulse in his neck, opening your lips slightly to brush your tongue over that pulse point.
“Please.” You beg.
Kaz's moan was low, but loud enough in your mind. You were being his undoing and you knew it. Suddenly, the car veered to the right and came to an abrupt stop. You would have lost your balance if Kaz's hands hadn't clung to your waist, pulling you in one movement to his left thigh, pressing your soaked core into the black fabric of his pants.
You gasped loudly, or he, or both. And in the next moment, his mouth was on yours again. The kiss was more aggressive, possessive, angry and ardent. Kaz kissed you as if he wanted to decree you his, proclaim his possession. You didn't see when he removed his gloves, but the touch of his skin with on your thighs was all you could think of.
“Kaz…” You moaned into his mouth, and the grip on your thighs moved up to your hip, digging his fingers into your thin dress-covered skin with such force it was sure to leave marks tomorrow. "Please."
You knew what you were begging for, but the moment Kaz forced your waist to move against his thigh, rubbing your pulsing core against his thigh, you forgot even your own name. And Kaz knew it. Then, like dominant man who wanted to see you surrendered to him that he was, his mouth went to your ear as he whispered:
"Do you want me to fuck you?" Kaz wiggled his thigh against you, making your clit roll against the soggy fabric of your panties.
You moaned loudly, your hands tightening on his shirt, your face hiding in his chest as an overwhelming, aching pleasure invaded your system. It felt good, but unbearable for being so little, churning something in your belly that made you despair for more.
"Y-yes." You whimpered, rolling your hips on his thigh.
Kaz's bare hand crept up the slit between your thighs, your dress already balled up at the top of your waist, and dipped his fingers into the juncture of your pussy and his thigh, pulling your panties to the side and making you feel the fabric of his dark pants against your wet, hot flesh. You moaned louder, your grip on his shirt tighter and your hips rocked harder for have any friction.
“Do you want me to fuck you like the little slut you are? Is that what you've wanted all this time?” His words, husky and strong, in that intense, dominant intonation, sent all your self-control to hell.
"Yes." You sobbed. “I-I need you."
But his hand in your panties went up to your chin, and he forced you to look him in the eye once more. The electric intensity of that look turned you on even more, making you gasp as his thigh still rocked against your throbbing clit.
“After that little stunt? you’re not getting off that easy” It was very hard to think with all the stimuli he was giving you, but the thunderous blue eyes warned you to pay attention to his words “Do you think you deserve me to fuck you?”
His gaze invaded you so deep and so warm and intense that you wondered if he was trying to leave a burning imprint on your soul. All over your body, overwhelming desires resonated, and you gave in to the compulsion to roll his thigh further, whimpering from the pressure on your clit.
"I'm s-so sorry." You whimpered, eyes pleading with he "It won't happen again."
"Won't happen what?" He tightened his grip on your chin, not painfully, but firmly to get your attention.
"It won't happen again, Sir."
The reward for your obedience came in an aggressive, hungry kiss, his hand in your chin dropping for your hip and wiggle his thigh at your needy pussy.
"Do you want to cum?" He teased you.
"Yes, S-sir."
"The only way you're getting off is on my thigh."
Then, as if to reiterate his statement, his mouth clutte to yours once more, his thigh swayed with more vigor and his bare hands moved up to the neckline of your dress.
His warm palms and long fingers lowered the straps of your dress and released your braless breasts, your nipples hard with pleasure and your breasts swollen with arousal.
Your moan was muffled by Kaz's, and he just released your mouth to lower his lips to your left breast, capturing the innocent nipple with his mouth and rolling his tongue across your flesh. You moaned louder, your waist twisting desperately against his thigh as your hands tangled in the strands of his black hair.
Kaz delighted in every inch of you, his hands going back to your waist as his mouth attacked your other breast, leaving a trail of hot saliva on his tight, needy nipples. Brekker was consumed by a fierce hunger and need, so overpowering that he pressed his fingers to your skin as if you were his last meal. He'd wanted for so long to do all that, to dive into your body like a starving man, savoring every inch of your warm skin.
Letting out a loud, delighted moan, Kaz increased his thigh movements as he suckled on your nipple, feeling flung to hell heaven as you squealed softly and collapsed onto his thigh, smearing his black fabric with your hot cum. But Kaz couldn't care less about the fucking pants. His cock hard and rigid as a sword hilt throbbed desperately, commanding him to sink into the heat of your slippery walls.
"This is much better than I dreamin." You whimpered softly, your face still buried in his neck, your waist wiggling slyly in his thigh.
"Do you think of me when you touch yourself?" He teased you, taking his hands to your panties away from the center of your pussy and pulling them between your legs, tucking them in his pants pocket.
You nodded, your mouth dipping into his neck in broken kisses as your hands went to his pants belt, trying to get rid of any barrier between the two of you as quickly as possible.
"Please, please." You begged, flustered as Kaz stopped your hip movements with his hands "I need to feel you inside me."
Your plea was sated with an arrogant kiss as Kaz reached for his pants, pulling the fabric of the boxer together and letting pop out his dick throbbing, pulsing and his swollen head, brushing in your pussy with lazy strides.
"S-sir!" You cried, trying to earn more.
"Shh, don’t worry, I’ll take very good care of you."
The strong, long arm wrapped around your waist, pressing your chest against his chest as Kaz guided his dick to the entrance to your pussy, with one hand. He play whit you, pressing his head into your entrance just enough to make you feel the pressure, recoiling when you swayed frantically for more. The painful pleasure sent tears to your eyes, and you sobbed loudly as you were just toy in his hands.
A few hot tears ran down your face as you whimpered, helpless in his arms to get what you wanted.
"You know, you look real pretty when you cry." Kaz pressed his mouth to yours.
In that second, he completely sank his dick into you, swallowing your loud scream as the thickness of it widened you and hit the bottom of the well. The grip of his arm around you tightened, and Kaz lifted you and brought you let down badly, drown his dick even more deeply inside your hot, wet, desperate walls.
"S-sir!" You moaned loudly, his mouth leaving yours, but not pulling away enough and letting you feel his hard breath hit your lips.
You followed his thrusts, bouncing your waist up and down hard and letting his dick beat frantically inside you, robbing you of your breath and your ability to think. Your moans mingled with his, the pornographic sounds of their bodies crashing together were loud and you thanked God the car windows were black and the street was deserted.
"So fucking good slut!" Kaz growled against your lips, one hand leaving your body to snake down to your throat, maintaining a firm, dominant grip.
You moaned his name and his title between loud moans and broken sobs. Yours hands closed around the shirt off his shoulders and the waist shimmied between the thrusts, making sure his dick was completely inside you.
“You look so good with my hand wrapped around your throat!” Kaz tightened his grip on yoir neck, watching you tilt your head back and expose your entire body to the delight of his eyes.
He growled louder, spurred on by that sinful sight, and increased the rhythm that pounded inside you, filling every inch of you and sinking down as anatomically as possible. Kaz felt possessed by a wild beast, insatiable and euphoric, and each thrust he gave you was more force he inflicted on you, marking you as his.
Kaz pulled your neck to him, pressing your mouth to his as he growled against your lips: “Mine.”
You nodded frantically, the apex bursting in a burst of pleasure as his dick came out and sank in hard, desperate, urgent strokes.
“Yours”
You promised, kissing him urgently and swallowing a low cry as his dick shuddered inside you, flooding you with the hot liquid until your walls overflowed, giving you a feeling of being incredibly full. You whimpered into his mouth, exchanging a sloppy kiss as Kaz gave you a few more thrusts, making sure his cum would fill your every inch, not letting you dare waste a drop.
“Mine” he repeated through the kiss.
so, the weather??? HAHAHA, anyway friends, i hope you enjoyed. Don’t forget consult the rules if you want to request for some Kaz smut. Love u. O
#kaz brekker fluff#kaz brekker imagine#kaz brekker fanfic#kaz x kruge#kaz brekker au#kaz brekker smut#kaz brekker x you#kaz brekker could break my legs with his cane and i would say thank you#kaz brekker x reader#kaz brekker x y/n#kaz brekker#shadow and bone smut#inejgayfa#jesper fahey#kaz x jesper
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The apocalypse happened a few years ago. And- it's vague, the apocalypse. It's not some big earth-shattering moment. It's confused tv reports and impulse decisions and little growing bits of tension until the pot boils over.
The details are fuzzy; it all happened so quickly that many civilians were left unaware of what exactly went down. One day, they were living, and the next, most weren't.
Nukes, EMPs, solar flares - the survivors find it doesn't matter. One way or another, the world ended, millions died, and everything’s different. Hostile. Harsh. Unforgiving. The sun is bright and searing, and radiation burns skin not covered head-to-toe.
People are cruel and will take advantage of anything they can. If you're not a part of an already-existing group, good luck.
Somehow, two men end up on a wooden pallet floating in the middle of the ocean. Maybe it was a plane crash, one of the few still running downed by a stray shot; maybe a boat capsized, embrittled by the radiation. Same as the apocalypse, it doesn't matter. What does is that now they’re surrounded by debris and a shark thirsting for blood and there’s one thing they both know: trust no-one.
So they don’t. Names hold power, as they’ve learnt over the past few years; names imply trust. When it becomes apparent they’re stuck together and the time comes to introduce themselves, the elder of the two stares out to sea and says, “Call me...” And that phrase brings back memories of a book he’d read long ago, in the Before Days, and so he finishes, “Ishmael.”
The younger panics and blurts out the first thing that comes to mind: “I’m Gunk.”
‘Ishmael’ raises a skeptical eyebrow, clearly amused. “Gunk,” he repeats. And ‘Gunk’ nods, crosses his arms.
“Yeah, bitch. It’s...” his mind blanks, “Russian.”
Ishmael’s brow climbs further, and he looks on the verge of laughing, lips twisting ever-so-slightly upward. “Last name?”
“Uh,” Gunk wracks his brain, and something from a history class, years ago, stands out. Nearly forgotten amongst all the useless information - what he calls anything that doesn’t directly contribute to survival, nowadays - and only clinging on through his brain classifying it as ‘important’ for God-knows-why. “Gorbachov.”
“Like... Michael Gorbachov?” There’s a hint of laughter in Ishmael’s tone now, the first in a while. He tries not to let that thought depress him.
Gunk nods, relieved at the reminder of the rest of the name, even if he still can’t place it. “Yeah. He was my father.”
“Michael Gorbachov, eighth and final leader of Soviet Russia, was your father,” Ishmael deadpans, and, frustrated at having been outplayed, Gunk scowls.
“What of it?” he challenges, which makes Ishmael laugh, throwing his head back to the blistering sun high above.
“Okay, Gunk,” he says, and yet it doesn’t feel patronizing.
They both know the other is lying, that much is obvious from the constant teasing and jokes about Gunk’s ‘father.’ But it doesn’t matter, because in the slow turning of the days, they grow close. After all, there’s not much to do on a makeshift raft in the middle of the ocean, other than chat.
Ishmael is handy, and the main reason for their survival. He knows how to purify water and fillet a fish, how to add on to their raft without nails and swim against the ocean current. Gunk wonders where he picked all that up, but never asks.
(A survivalist father and paranoid brother, whom Ishmael hasn’t seen in half a decade. The thought that they’re probably still alive brings him comfort.)
Gunk, on the other hand, does most of the grunt work. Fishing in debris that floats by, diving down for rocks when they briefly dock, and the ever-important duty of keeping the shark they named Clive from destroying their miserly raft. He keeps up a steady stream of chatter through it all, and Ishmael thinks that’s what makes the monumental effort to go on worth it. Then, he wonders when he let himself get attached.
(It was a week or so in, when Gunk had fashioned himself a shelf out of the bottom of a storage bin and some planks, and proclaimed it his ‘comfort shelf.’ Gunk felt the same when Ishmael didn’t tell him to dismantle it, only pushed it aside, even though they were supposed to use that wood to repair Clive’s last attack.)
They survive, they grow closer, they hesitantly trust, and yet, they don’t pry. They don’t share their real names. Not until one day.
Ishmael goes swimming out to a nearby island to scavenge for food and chop down a few trees, if he can manage. Gunk stays on the ship - an anchor is next on their to-do list, and so he’s responsible for keeping it from drifting off with his tiny paddle. Except it’s not well-crafted, and grey jaws reach up to snap at the wood he’s standing on so he uses it to stab Clive, and the tip breaks off. The raft starts drifting away.
“Ishmael!” he calls, then again, louder, “Ishmael! Fuck, man!” But he’s nowhere to be seen, and the current is dragging Gunk awfully far out from the island.
He keeps calling, shouting, screaming, increasingly panicked at leaving his friend, the man who’d helped him survive for months, now, behind. Until his voice grows hoarse the way it never did from rambling for hours on end, and a little speck appears on the beach of the island.
Ishmael waves widely at him, and he must be shouting but Gunk can’t hear it over the lapping of the waves. So he assumes what was said, hollers, “I can’t fuckin’ come back, arsehole!” and raises the remains of the paddle over his head to clarify.
The speck stills, then bursts into motion, tossing everything he’s holding aside and shucking his shoes. Gunk can practically hear him mutter about what an “ridiculous child” he is, because although they’ve never shared their ages Ishmael’s decided he’s the elder of the two, which obviously means Gunk is a child.
And then Ishmael dives into the water, and he’s closing the distance between himself and the raft with each stroke. He cuts a straight line through the waves, until he suddenly swerves to the left. Gunk is confused a moment, before he notices - a grey fin jutting out of the water next to him.
Clive goes in for another pass, then another, and Ishmael jukes him out both times. He’s maybe five meters away, now, but the shark is coming back so Gunk screams. But Ishmael’s head is underwater, and he doesn’t hear. Just keeps going, towards safety he won't make it to.
Clive barrels into him. Ishmael vanishes underwater.
He doesn’t come back up.
Gunk is diving in before he can properly think, pushing past the cold shock of the sea, as he uses his self-taught skills to bring him to where he guesses Ishmael last was. Then, he takes a deep breath, squeezes his eyes shut, and goes under.
After a nervewracking few moments, his elbow bumps into something and he latches on, desperately dragging it upwards. They break the surface and he gasps for breath, Ishmael limp against him.
The trip back is agonizing. Ishmael is deadweight, their clothes are waterlogged, and Gunk has never been the best swimmer. But Clive is still lurking, and he refuses to drown after all this time, so he manages to drag them both back to the raft through pure willpower and spite.
Gunk collapses next to where he’d heaved Ishmael onto the planks, taking a second to compose himself. Shivering violently, he curls into a ball - he'll have to go for a spare change of clothes. His eyes drift shut. In a moment.
Then, panic seizes his heart as he becomes aware of how still Ishmael is. He jerks up, staring at him, searching for any sign of life, anything-
But a moment later he relaxes, when Ishmael rolls over and starts heaving out saltwater. Gunk reaches over and pats him on the back until it subsides, and he falls back onto the wood.
“You,” Ishmael says, letting his eyes flutter shut, “are so stupid.”
Gunk feels a burst of indignation. “Hey, what the fuck! I just saved your dumbass, Ish-ma-el.” He scowls at Ishmael’s placid little twist of the lips.
“Wilbur,” he murmurs, hands folded over his chest.
“What?”
“My name is Wilbur.”
Oh.
“I’m Tommy,” he says after a moment of silence where it sinks in, what he’d just been told, the trust laid on him, and then lays down next to Ishmael - Wilbur, now.
Wilbur just hums and wraps an arm under his shoulders, tugging him close - which is new; they’re really going all-in with this trust thing, huh? - then says, “So, so stupid.”
“Oi,” Tommy protests, but leans in closer.
Things aren’t really visibly different, after that. They still bicker, still do the same daily tasks, still slip up and call each other ‘Ishmael’ and ‘Gunk’ - though it becomes less and less common, other than with a teasing tone. They finally get their anchor, which means Tommy has the chance to go on land; though he quickly grows to dislike it after an incident with a particularly pissed-off boar.
To an outsider, everything remains the same. But to the inhabitants of the raft, it feels different. More homely. Warmer.
Once, after Wilbur chides Tommy over something or another, Tommy rolls his eyes and says, “You know, we really are like brothers.” He tries to keep his tone joking, and to not let himself hope for the words to be true.
Wilbur freezes. “Don’t say that; I’ll cry.” He blinks once to keep the tears at bay, and tries to push down the warmth in his chest.
(They both fail.)
About four months in, a light appears in the distance, at night. They angle their sail towards it and the dark shadow on the horizon. A few days later, it becomes apparent what it is: a lighthouse.
Inhabited land. Civilization.
They gather their meagre supplies once they dock, then ditch the raft in favour of climbing the lighthouse. And, from the top, off over a hill, Wilbur spots it first, points it out to his brother, who squints-
A Dome.
#wilbur soot#tommyinnit#Fic#enderspeak#sbi rust#crimeboys#Love how we all saw that stream and went#''Yes. Those are the Rust boys.''#Also I can't write anymore apparently. Pain
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Tony and Bucky’s Drunken Dramatics!
[Warnings: Yandere Themes (Obviously), Drunken Antics, Drunk Flying (Don’t drink and drive an Iron Man suit people)]
Tony-
Tony woke up after a little Avenger’s get together the night before expecting a hangover, what he was not expecting was to wake up next to you.
Of course he instantly recognized you, he was utterly obsessed with you, knowing everything about you despite only being your friend.
Both of you were fully clothed so that means that the two of you didn’t knock boots so that was something he could go off of.
So confused by your state in his bed he didn’t realize that you were waking up watching him go through every emotion on the spectrum.
It was so hard not to laugh at the intense focus he was lost in, wondering how in the hell you got from your house to his.
Barely able to remember anything from the night before, that was the last time he ever lets Thor bust out the Asgardian mead.
Finally breaking from his thoughts long enough to gaze upon you, jumping a little when he realized you were staring right back at him.
Amused you couldn’t help but giggle at his abrupt movement in the act of noticing that you too were awake.
Asking you point blank how you got there, not that he was complaining or anything, quite the opposite.
“Well….you showed up at my house at 4 AM in an Iron Man suit drunk, confessing that you were hopelessly in love with me, and that you couldn’t spend the rest of your life without me, and in my half asleep state I agreed to go with you so here I am.”
Requesting the JARVIS show him the footage from his journey, it was slightly embarrassing but also endearingly sweet.
That was why you didn’t see the harm in going with him, because clearly he meant every word he was speaking.
You trusted Tony before, but the hopeless romantic in you couldn’t help but give into the passionate temptation he had laid before you.
Sure there was risk in going with a drunk man in a high powered weapon, but in your dazed state you weren’t concerned about it.
Clearly the two of you had made it back to the place safely, as you were both cuddled up next to each other in his bed.
While he couldn’t believe his luck that you had felt the same way too, he was also ashamed that he was drunk when he admitted his feelings towards you.
Apologizing for that aspect, not the words he stated while he was intoxicated because they were genuine, but the alcohol consumption itself.
Of course you found it adorable when he was trying to say sorry for something that he didn’t need to be sorry for.
Telling him just that, leaning in slightly as he placed a soft hand on your cheek, eyes never leaving yours.
Only breaking the contact when his eyelids fluttered shut as he kissed you so tenderly it was as if you were going to explode if you didn’t have more immediately.
Pulling you even closer to him, wanting to touch and explore every single ounce of you now that you were his.
Not just in a sexual way but in a sensual way, he was going to take his time becoming thoroughly acquainted.
Nothing left between you but life, what a long glorious life you both have ahead of you… together forever.
Bucky-
Bucky didn’t understand Steve’s want to go to the small get together Tony was having for a mission well done.
Neither of them could get drunk, the burn of the alcohol the only effect he ever felt on his body.
That is, until Thor brought out some Asgardian mead for the group to share, promising that it would take the edge off.
Downing it like it was regular alcohol was definitely a mistake, one that he didn’t realize until it was far too late.
Deciding to go on a walk to try and let the night air sober him up some, not used to the feeling after being without it for so long.
Not knowing how to properly act or how else to come back down from the intense sloshing going on in his brain.
Feet taking him wherever they were going to take him, he was no longer in true control of his journey.
Somehow ending up miles away on your doorstep in the middle of the night, you had just laid down in bed to go to sleep however.
A knock on your door pulling you out of your slightly exhausted state wondering who in the hell would be there at that time of night.
Looking out your peephole seeing Bucky standing or swaying there as he waited for you to open up, not realizing when it was in the night.
Asking to make sure he was okay, he could only smile at you honestly, just happy to see your familiar face, letting him know he was safe now.
Offering to drive him back home to make sure he gets into bed safe, he eagerly takes you up on the offer wanting to spend more time with you.
It definitely wasn’t an easy task to help a heavily intoxicated Super Soldier out of the car and through the halls but you managed it.
Arriving at his room you ask JARVIS to open the door for you which he gladly obliges, shimmying him inside.
Ready to flop him onto the bed where he could pass out in comfort, unfortunately he attempted that part a little too soon.
Effectively knocking you back onto the bed, with his giant body on top of you barely able to breath at first.
Eventually after trying several times to get him to wake up you just resign yourself to your fate and nod off to sleep with him.
Quite a while later Bucky woke up with his arms around you, holding you tightly to his chest like he was worried you would disappear if he let go.
Incredibly confused because he didn’t even remember leaving the party last night, or showing up at your house.
Remembering what his grandmother had told him once which was don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.
Stirring slightly you snuggled into his chest before realizing that there was an actual person there, bringing you back to the reality of last night.
Inquiring as to why you were there, making sure you knew that he was just shocked, not unhappy about the situation.
“For someone who is in such great shape you sure are heavy, I tried to help you into bed after we got you back here. I got a little squished but you do make a nice warm blanket and pillow.”
Slightly embarrassed he tried to swear to you that he would never drink like that again, but you told him you liked being needed by him.
It was a great role reversal for you when usually he was the one taking care of you, keeping you safe, making sure you had what you needed.
Unable to keep the huge smile from growing on his face, nuzzling his nose into your hair, tickling you slightly.
Somehow a night he can’t remember turned into the best night of his life.
[This idea was based off a dream I had last night, it definitely wasn’t what the first scenario entails. (heh) Anyway! I hope that you all enjoy, and that you think it’s kind of cute and funny like I did! <3]
#yandere tony stark#yandere tony stark x reader#yandere bucky barnes#yandere bucky barnes x reader#yandere iron man#yandere winter soldier#yandere marvel#dark marvel#dark tony stark#dark bucky barnes#dark tony stark x reader#dark bucky barnes x reader
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