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depravitycentral · 10 months

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Yandere! Nobunaga Hazama NSFW Profile

Yandere! Nobunaga Hazama x fem! reader

Tw: non-con, stalking, kidnapping, non-consensual touching, infantilization, delusional behavior, Nobunaga is a fucking creep, this one is not for everyone so please tread lightly, excessive Daddy kink, like seriously it's so much, corruption kink (can be applied to both virgins and non-virgins), pussy inspection, humiliation, mentions of reader having pubic hair, Nobunaga has a fleshlight that he customizes, again lots of talk about cum (if you were present on my old blog, the cum jar does not make an appearance don't worry), fem reader, MDNI

I do not condone any of the actions described in this post - this is fiction and should be treated as such. If you or a loved one is in a similar situation to anything contained in this post or my blog in general, please seek help. You're in charge of your internet consumption; please make responsible choices. With that, enjoy!

Also small shout out to @holydayaria because I read one of her posts talking about how Nobunaga refuses to believe you're not a virgin and all I can say is that I agree. If you'd like me to take this down because of that, please let me know!

WC: 12K

HABITS:

Nobunaga is certainly no stranger to sex; he’s always been a very physical man, craving human affection and touch, and for most of his life he’s sated his sexual desires via hookups, women he can fuck and leave immediately after. Sex holds some emotional value to him, but not enough to stop him from using women just for his own pleasure, no strings attached.

It’s more that sex with the right person means something to him - sex with you, for example, would mean everything. He’s a horny man by nature, aiming to get off at least biweekly if not more, and once you step into his life this increases monumentally, your presence only enhancing his natural desire to fuck and grope and mark.

He begins thinking of you in lewd ways pretty early into his obsession; it’s a byproduct of stalking you constantly, if only because he’s seen you naked often, your pretty skin and delicious figure revealed to his eager, smoldering dark eyes.

He’s studied every inch of your body before you’re even aware of his feelings for you - he knows where every single mole, scar and hair is, which areas you hold insecurities over, which spots you like to touch and feel when you’re awake late at night, your thighs rubbing together and little moans coming from your throat.

He knows you like the back of his fucking hand, which is why he’s very, very interested in doing literally anything sexual with you. You’re alluring, so pretty and sexy and perfect, and just the mere idea of getting you naked below him, moaning and writhing because of him and his touch gets him flushed, swallowing the lump in his throat, and having to find the nearest semi private area to wrap his fist around his cock and pound away.

He just can’t help but become addicted to fantasizing about you, because in a lot of ways, you’re the only thing he’s living for - aside from the Spider, of course. You’re the reason he gets up every morning, shaving and making sure he looks presentable, attractive, so that if you happen to see him or notice him, you’ll see him as a potential love interest. He wants you to deem him as desirable, to want him, because he yearns so pitifully for you that he can’t not have the feeling reciprocated. It would be too painful, too embarrassing, too much.

Thus, Nobunaga holds no qualms about touching himself to the thought of you - you must want him, too, so why should he feel bad about getting off to you, you starring as the main and only role in his fantasies?

However, as time passes, Nobunaga finds himself slowly craving more and more of you, his desperation to actually have your body to touch and love slowly becoming too much to bear.

He used to be satisfied with fucking his fist, letting his eyes flutter closed and imagine the way you’d moan his name and clutch at the pillow behind your head when he folds you into a mating press. Then, when that wasn’t enough, he was quick to get to work on his pillow, hoping that maybe the physical action of fucking something would make it better.

It did, for a while - moving his hips so quickly and harshly that the pillow nearly tore, his imagination running wild when he pretends it’s you below him, your perfect open spread open and waiting for him.

Then that’s not enough, and Nobunaga’s at a bit of a loss - where does he go from here? He’s not quite ready to steal you away yet, still needing to make a few final arrangements with both his living situation and making sure he has everything you could possibly need.

He needs more time - but his cock needs you, so what does he do? He finds the solution when he’s rummaging through an old box he’d found in one of his temporary hideouts, covered in dust and very obviously not used in a long time.

He opens it, curiosity getting the better of him, only to stare - he’d totally forgotten that a few years ago Phinks and Uvogin, ever the wonderful friends, had decided it would be a good joke to get the swordsman a fleshlight. They’d thought it was upset him, and while he was mildly confused, he found the joke funny too, the mental imagery of either of them vandalizing a sex toy shop making him laugh out loud.

He’d kept the toy, but it was still sealed in its packaging, still totally pristine and untouched - he’d been too embarrassed to use it, preferring instead to go find a real cunt to release into.

And yet, with the thought of you fresh in his mind, he’s quick to grab the toy, throwing the box aside and eagerly tearing into the toy’s packaging. He gulps when he finally gets it out; it’s big, easy ten inches long, weighing heavily in his hand.

The silicone on the outside is smooth, and Nobunaga notices with a cocked eyebrow that the manufacturer had fabricated silicone lips resembling that of a pussy on the outside, even going so far as to place a little nub at the top, surely meant to represent a clit. He gulps, examining the toy further.

It would do, he thinks - it’s good enough for now, at least, just as an experiment, if anything else. Maybe it would be easier to pretend it’s you - he’s sure you’d feel much, much better than whatever artificial pleasure the measly plastic can bring him, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

As he’s staring at the toy, he notices the time, and quickly he’s scampering for his shoes, slipping out the front door and immediately heading over to your apartment, knowing that you’re always asleep by this time, meaning he can safely watch.

He likes to sit at the foot of your bed, his chin resting on his fist as he dreamily smiles at you, appraising your relaxed form as you breathe in, out, in, out.

(He hopes you’re dreaming of him, and a few times he’s actually heard you moan lightly in your sleep - he’s so, so very hopeful that he was starring in the dream with you, because who else possibly could be?)

It’s not until he’s been there for an hour or so that his mind wanders back to the toy. It would make do, for now, but it still wasn’t all that realistic - it was silicone, first of all, while you were flesh and blood.

It wasn’t the right shape, either, because he knows your lips aren’t like that - yours are prettier, more unique, more you.

The toy doesn’t have your scent, either, that musky, delicious smell that gets his knees feeling weak and his mouth watering.

The toy doesn’t even have any of your cute little pubic hairs, either - it’s bare, something he knows you’re not.

He sighs, realizing it’ll be a bit hard to make the toy actually feel like you, but it’s only when you roll over in your sleep that he realizes there may be a solution to a few of his objections. It’s not hard to find a pair of scissors and slide the sheets and your shorts down carefully, snipping a few strands of your hair and storing them in his kimono pocket.

It’s not hard to memorize every nook and cranny of your cunt, committing the way your lips fold and meet to memory, something he’ll never, ever forget. It’s not much, but as he rushes home, his heart beating out of his chest, Nobunaga feels excited, hoping that these additions will make the toy that much better, that much more like you.

He’s quick to grab his sword and get shaping the silicon, trying to carve the lips into something more similar to yours, carving in folds and minimizing ones you don’t have. When he’s done, he’s gluing on the hairs he’d collected, and once it’s all dried and put together, he can only bite his lip, excitement coursing through his veins.

It’s crude, and you’re much, much prettier, but it’s a lot better now - at least it actually kind of looks like you, and it’ll make it much easier to immerse himself in the fantasy of finally, finally sinking inside you.

He’ll climb onto his bed, swallowing hard and letting his hair down from its topknot, idly running his fingers through it imagining you doing the same thing. Would you tug at his hair, pull on his roots and make him groan in pleasure-tinged pain?

Long, slender fingers peel off his kimono and run down his chest, tracing lines of muscle and scars. Would you study every inch of him like this, leaving no part of his skin untouched?

Soon he’s reaching his cock, spreading his thighs a bit to make sure he gets good leverage, and as he slowly, very slowly wraps his fingers around his length, he shakily sighs. Would you pump him a few times before you truly had your way with him? Would you warm him up like this, get him at least partially ready for when you sink down on him, your tight walls or hot mouth enveloping him whole?

Nobunaga grunts, before reaching out and grabbing the toy, bringing it up to his mouth. Spreading the silicon lips, he spits into it, hoping that’s enough lubricant to have his cock sliding in and smoothly. With you, he’s sure that wouldn’t be a problem - you’d be so wet for him, so aroused and turned on and needy for him, already dripping down your thighs all because of his touch.

(He might still spit on you if you asked him to, though - he’d spit in your mouth if you’d let him.)

With shaky fingers, he brings the toy down, his free hand grasping the base of his cock and helping aim the tip into the toy’s lips, groaning lightly he slips inside with a wet pop noise, his toes curling a bit. He brings the toy down further, letting it slide down and down, until the base meets his pelvis.

Letting his head roll back, he takes a few deep, steadying breaths. The toy doesn’t feel like a real pussy - like your pussy, but it’s still strangely pleasurable, the inside all tight and textured, massaging his tip and making him curse.

Fuck, baby, he grunts, letting a hand run through his hair again, gonna let me fuck this little cunt? Yeah?

He likes to talk to himself while he touches himself, pretending you’re there to listen and respond, pretending he can hear your airy, strained voice as he you moan out a yes, please, need you to fuck me!

He growls, before suddenly getting onto his knees, one hand supporting his weight as he leans forward while the other holds the toy steady.

Yeah? Fuck baby, get ready, I’m gonna make you come so fucking hard, wanna make you make a mess for me. And then he’s thrusting, hips plunging forward into the toy and letting his head drape forward, dark hair falling in a curtain around him as he groans lowly, the friction of the toy making his elbows feel weak.

Fuck baby, fuck fuck fuck - he’s gasping, the sensation of actually fucking something so much better than everything else he’s been doing up until now.

A constant streams of curses are falling under his breath, his hips fucking into the toy with such vigor that his balls are swinging, smacking into the plastic lip of the toy over and over again, making an audible slap noise.

He can’t help but imagine you below him, legs spread and ass taut, your face pressed into the mattress as you take his cock, taking every bit of pleasure he can give you, every thrust making you cry out and moan his name and yes yes yes -

He’s approaching his orgasm much faster than normal, the hairs he’d glued onto the toy tickling his naval with every thrust, just like your own cunt would. Shit baby, you want me to come? Wanna feel me come inside? I can’t hear you, fuck - fuck, say it louder, tell me you want me to come in you!

His voice is a growl at this point, slurred and strained and shaking as the pleasure grows and grows, but he needs to imagine hearing you say it, to imagine the way your pretty voice would call out a yes, please come inside, need your cum please please please!

He finishes with a long, drawn out groan that starts low but gets higher as his cum spills inside the toy, hips stuttering and spasming, every muscle in his body flexed as he gasps your name, arms threatening to give out at any moment.

It feels so good - you feel so good, and Nobunaga has to squeeze his eyes shut to ground himself, fingers gripping the bedspread so tightly his knuckles turn white. He doesn’t bother cleaning the toy after he slowly pulls out, cum spilling as soon as the suction is released, staining his bedspread as he flops back, still panting, staring up at the ceiling.

The toy felt good, but you’d feel better - you’d clench him more, you’d be warmer, you’d cry out his name and tell him how good he feels, your cunt squeezing him and never letting him pull out. You’d be eager, pushing your ass back against him and begging him to go faster, to go deeper, to give you every last drop of cum he can squeeze out. You’d just be better, but this is enough for now, until he’s got you by his side, sleeping soundly with your pretty pussy ripe for the taking. This’ll do, at least until then.

(The toy, however, barely lasts - it gets so much use by then that all those modifications he made have all but fallen apart; all the hairs have fallen off, and those lips he was careful to create are starting to wear down from the speed, intensity, and frequency of his thrusts. Cum is starting to overflow the toy, crusting to the outer ring, but he can’t bring himself to clean it out - he wouldn’t clean it out of you after all; you’d just take it all for him, storing it nicely inside, keeping it warm and safe and cherished inside you.)

Nobunaga wants you, terribly, and while he’ll hold himself for as long as he can, the moment he has you? Well, he’s a patient man when it comes to you, but even he has his limits. And when you’re laid in front of him, in the flesh and staring at him like that, he knows he’s met his.

So really, just spread your legs and let him go to town - he promises he’ll treat you right, make you come, get you overstimulated and fucked out.

Just let him try. Please.

FAVORITE BODY PARTS:

Your thighs

While he finds every single inch of your body alluring, captivating, drool worthy, there’s a certain allure to your thighs that he just can’t shake.

Maybe it’s because they’re so soft; pudgy fat that’s perfect for him to grip onto, to knead, to idly rest his hand to get you squirming and anxious.

Maybe it’s because they look so damn good when you’re just wearing those panties and one of his t-shirts, the expanse of creamy skin open and begging to be admired.

Maybe it’s just because he loves the way they feel caging his head when he’s got you sitting on his face, the muscles squeezing and trembling as he tongues at your clit.

Maybe it’s because they’re perfect to throw over his shoulders when he’s hovering over you, fucking into you like an animal in heat and gasping your name, turning his head to pepper kisses along them as he goes harder, faster, deeper.

He’s not totally sure, but all he really knows is that he likes them - and he’s not exactly shy about showcasing this fact. He’s not trying to hide the way his gaze lingers when you’re walking around, seeing the way the fat jiggles as you walk, his Adam’s Apple bobbing as he swallows. He’s not shy about kissing them and sucking hickies into them, groaning against your skin and coming up for air to tell you that you’re so fucking hot baby, these damn thighs, god…

He’s not shy about slipping his cock between them, fucking them while you’re forced to watch, seeing his pink tip appearing between them then disappearing over and over and over, up until he’s stuttering your name and cum is landing in ropes on your tummy.

He always seems to have a hand on your thigh, especially whenever the two of you are sitting - over dinner he’ll have you sit in his lap, one hand holding his fork and the other squeezing at you, groping slightly and pinching you just to see you yelp and feel you jerk in his hold.

He’ll have you throw your leg over his waist when you’re cuddling, his grip around you like a vice, your thigh digging into his crotch and feeling the way he slowly grows hard.

He’s always smacking at them, sending you a coy look and telling you that you’re so jumpy babe, you like it when I slap you? You’re so dirty, Daddy’s dirty little girl.

His love for your thighs hits him out of left field, and one day he’s returning home with a few pairs of thigh highs, forcing you into them and making you parade around, spinning and twirling and giving him a show, only for him to end up breathing heavily and patting his leg, shifting his kimono to the side and making you sit yourself down on his cock, breathing out a heavy, strained c’mere baby, Daddy wants to show you how much he likes your new socks.

He’s investing in garter belts and every piece of lingerie he can find that frames them, that makes them look even more soft and supple and fuckable, only serving to get him drooling and frantic to get his hands on you.

Even outside of sex, he genuinely just loves touching your thighs - it’s a comfort thing, one of the most meaty parts of you, and keeping it nearby is like assuring him that you’ll never be able to get far from him, that he’ll always be able to reach out and grab, to drag you back and make sure you never stray too far from his watchful gaze.

You’re just so pretty, and can he really be blamed for wanting to reach out and touch something so heavenly? Is he really a freak for wanting to squeeze and grope at your thighs, loving the way you get all embarrassed and flustered?

He doesn't think so, so he won’t stop - he’s always reaching and grabbing and wanting, and eventually you’ll grow used to it, even finding some comfort in it. Just know that as long as his hand is on your thigh, there’s a very, very strong chance that you’ll be having to deal with his cock soon - something he’s more than pleased about.

His dick

In general, Nobunaga prides himself on being your provider.

He’s the one giving you shelter, making sure you’re properly fed and taken care of.

He likes to bathe with you, washing your body and hair (and often pinning you down in the bathtub and stuffing you with a fresh batch of cum, but that’s besides the point), making sure you’re squeaky clean and perfectly healthy.

He’s the one making sure no people with ill intentions cross your path, whether that’s those seeking revenge against the Troupe, or just your average, everyday criminals looking for another pretty girl to make their target.

He likes to think he does everything he can for you, that he’s the sole reason why you’re still safe and healthy and alive, to some extent. But his views that he fully provides for you don’t just extend into your everyday life - no, that philosophy invades the bedroom too, the swordsman full-heartedly believing that he takes care of you sexually.

He fully believes that he’s the only one capable of making you come (including yourself), that he’s the only one capable of making you feel good, making you get all whiny and moany and making a mess between those pretty legs of yours. It makes him feel special, important, like you need him, and he’ll fully rise to his self-inflicted duty - he will make you come, no matter how long it takes.

(Besides, getting to have his mouth on your pretty folds for an hour or two at a time is absolute heaven; you taste wonderful, your smell surrounding him and making him throb, the sight of your pretty folds and puffy clit making him groan and lick his lips. It’s absolutely not a chore to eat you out, and the way he moans and praises you will make you more than aware that he doesn’t view this as a punishment in any form, along with the wet patch staining his kimono right over his cock.)

He will get you crying out his name, no matter how embarrassing or depraved his actions, his desperation to get you feeling good nearly palpable.

But his absolute favorite way to satisfy you in bed is with his cock. Sure, he likes using his fingers and tongue and anything else you want (he’ll let you use any part of him - just ask with that sweet voice of yours and attach a little hesitant, nervous please at the end and he’s caving like putty), but there’s just something so right about the feeling of your walls wrapped around him, the way your cunt sucks him in making him light headed and dizzy.

It feels natural to slip his head past your slippery folds, to run his tip up and down your slit, collecting your slick and telling you that you’re so wet for me baby, Daddy’s so proud of you, makin’ it so easy for him to fuck his princess.

It feels right when you’re clenching down on him, moaning his name as he rams into that spot again and again, walls squeezing at him and forcing him to stay inside, wanting to keep him where he belongs.

He’s convinced that he knows what your little pussy wants better than you do, and he’s sure the answer, at any given time, is his dick - how can it not be, when you’re always wet for him, your legs shaking before he even sinks inside?

And god, when he finishes inside you, spraying cum as deeply as he can, he swears he’s in heaven, pure euphoria shooting through his veins because now there’s a bit of him inside you, and now you’re really his.

He can claim you like this, and if it makes you feel good and gets you creaming and fluttering, it’s really all just fate. It’s got to be fate, because how else can you explain the way every muscle in his body goes lax when he bullies his way into your cunt, his body almost instinctually knowing what to do, how to fuck you, how to please you?

(The answer, of course, is that you’ve gotten quite good at faking your orgasms - but Nobunaga must never, ever find out, unless you want to be yelled at and tied down for hours while he presses the vibtrator to your poor, oversensitive clit and his cock and fingers take turns stuffing your hole.)

DRIVE:

In general, Nobunaga is touchy.

He’s always hovering around you, not letting you have much personal space, always just being near you. You’re like a drug to him, and he just can’t get his fix without touching you in some capacity, whether that be a hand on your arm, a kiss pressed to your forehead, his chest flush against your back, or anything else.

It’s uncomfortable, really, how insistent he is - you can slap his wrist away, hiss at him to quit, but he’ll just chuckle and shush you, tightening his grip and pulling you against him, murmuring in your ear to give the act up, sweetheart, you’re not fooling anyone.

It’s infuriating, and eventually those more innocent touches will begin morphing into more lewd ones, more sexual and overt. He’s naturally quite horny, and the presence of you certainly doesn’t help quell this - if anything, being around you only amplifies his desire to get his cock wet, his desperation for sinking himself deeply into something wet, warm and tight only increasing monumentally.

And you, sweet, lucky little you, get to be the sole target of all the pent up sexual urges and tensions he possesses - and he doesn’t try to hide them, either. He doesn’t see the point - why should he bother hiding the way his cock strains against his kimono, throbbing and stupidly hard, all because you bent over to pick something up in front of him?

Why does he need to ‘go away’, as you told him, when he’s got his kimono spread open, his heavy cock exposed while a hand gropes and squeezes at his balls, totally exposed on the couch?

(He’ll even carry a conversation with you like that - he won’t stop touching himself, the veins on his hand standing out as he squeezes, eyes fluttering closed as he tells you that you look so pretty today baby, what do you want for dinner? I was thinking maybe we could try something new tonight - I’m making it just for you, and I’m sure you’ll love it. He never explicitly said what he meant, but you knew - the way his cock throbbed at his words and precum oozed out in visible globs makes his idea more than apparent.)

He’s not subtle in the least, genuinely seeing no reason why he shouldn’t be totally transparent about what he wants from you and your body, and no amount of reasoning with him will get him to lay off.

He genuinely believes you want him to touch you as badly as he does - why wouldn’t he believe it? After all, you’re always leaving those little hints for him, quiet pleas for him to push your relationship further, all because you’re too shy and embarrassed to plainly say it to him.

You wouldn’t be wearing that t-shirt of his if you didn’t want him to rip it off you and suck on your pretty tits until your nipples are sore and puffy, right?

(No, it doesn’t matter that it’s the only shirt you possess, that’s not the point.)

You wouldn’t let the sheets slip down to expose the sliver of your tummy your nightshirt doesn’t cover if you didn’t want him to stare and salivate, right?

(No, who cares that you can’t control what your bedding does while you’re asleep - it’s a sign, dammit, and you can’t tell him otherwise.)

He’s just stubborn, reading into everything you do and totally misinterpreting it, but there’s not much you can do about it.

After all, who’s the Class A bounty, and who can kill with a flick of his wrist? Certainly not you.

Because Nobunaga is more or less completely out of touch with reality, his hopes and desires for your sexual relationship are, accordingly, a bit unrealistic.

He’s fully under the impression that you’re just playing hard to get, that you’re going through this mock rebellious phase because you think it’s the right thing to do, because you’re scared of your feelings for him, because you’re scared to give in to the way your heart and body need him, knowing that he’s the only one for you.

He’s fully convinced that it’s only a matter of time before you begin craving him sexually, just as badly and frequently as he craves you, and because of this he holds very little qualms about kickstarting that sexual side to your relationship. He doesn’t see why he should bother holding back - obviously you want him, buried deep down in that little heart of yours, and if he can get the both of you feeling good, getting closer, engaging in the most sacred, intimate thing a couple can, why wouldn’t he?

And so, while he doesn’t fully force you to fuck him, he’ll find other methods of getting what he wants.

(He won’t actually shove his cock into you yet, if only because he doesn’t want any of that stupid denial you’re giving him in regards to your true desires - just quit fucking crying, because it’s ruining the mood, and he knows you don’t mean it. So, he’ll punish you by not giving you the pleasure he knows you want - maybe then you’ll learn to be grateful, to not play this dumb game anymore and simply let him love you like you know he can. It’s a small mercy, really, in the sea of horrible things he forces onto you, but you’ll take it - he’s terrifying, and every time he slips off that kimono of his, cock springing into view and a bony hand coming down to tug and jerk, to smear and stroke, you’ll be grateful that he won’t go through with it if you beg him hard enough. Hopefully.)

But frankly, those methods aren’t too much better - you will be getting intimate; no amount of crying or begging will get you out of letting him touch you, or excuse you from being forced to touch him.

Rather, Nobunaga will simply force you into sexual acts that don’t comprise of penetrative sex - specifically, he grows to love oral, both receiving and giving it. There’s something just so intimate about it, so sweet and personal and loving, and every time that you deny him sex, he’ll often just grumble at you, narrowing his eyes before softly sighing, letting a little smile grace his lips.

Okay then baby, but you know all you have to say is that you want me to taste that little pussy of yours, no reason to go cryin’ or making a big show when you just want my mouth.

He’ll sit you down on the couch or chair, licking his lips and spreading your legs. He’ll always insist on being naked - it’s not truly a passionate moment between two lovers if clothes are separating your bodies, right?

How can he fully take in the lovely sight that is you and your pleasure if a shirt is covering up your tits and tummy, or shorts blocking your sweet, tight little cunt, stopping him from tasting and touching and fucking?

And so, with both your clothes and his stripped away from you, he’s leaning in, licking a stripe up your slit and letting his eyes roll to the back of his head, your taste making him feral no matter how often he gets it. His dark hair is down around his shoulders, slipping forward as he leans in closer and closer, practically suffocating with how tightly his nose is pressed to your clit, his lips flush with your folds as he licks and sucks, letting his tongue dip inside to rub at your walls.

His hands will always find purchase on your hips, fingertips squeezing and groping at the soft fat. He fucking loves when you clench them around his head, his hips bucking involuntarily and a moan slipping out against your folds, the pressure making him dizzy and be forced to press even closer to you, eliminating any bit of space between his face and your body, sandwiching him in as if you never, ever want to let him go.

He’ll eat you out with vigor, spit getting everywhere and slick coating his lips, chin, nose and cheeks, just making an absolute mess of both you and himself. His stubble tickles against your sensitive clit, the feeling pleasurable despite yourself, and often he actually will be able to make you come this way, your body betraying you and giving into his ministrations. But oh, you coming is not the worst part - absolutely not, not when he’s so damn vocal, never shutting up even when he’s got his tongue buried inside you.

He’s insistent on narrating the whole experience, constantly throwing you praises and talking about how you’re so good, how you taste so sweet and delicious and fuck, you little minx, you like seeing me get all dirty from this little cunt? Makes you wet? I can feel you clenching around me - you’re so dirty baby, my bad girl.

He’ll be telling you about all the things he wants to do to you, peppering sucks at your clit between his words. Baby you don’t know how badly I need this pussy, how bad I need to fuck you - mmm, gotta show you you’re mine, make sure you know this cunny is mine. You’ll be so damn pretty all stuffed full of me, I know you can take it, you always take my fingers so well.

He’ll pause to give a series of thrusts of his tongue inside you, his finger rubbing circles at your clit that leave your toes curling.

Y’so good, this cunt was made for me, huh princess? It’s obnoxious, his words making your skin crawl, and the only genuine way to get him to shut up is to tangle your fingers into his hair and pull, pressing his face as tightly against you as possible and keeping him there, so that he can’t move back to talk.

And Nobunaga, ever the optimist, doesn’t see your irritation. If anything, he sees this as a sign that you want more, that he feels good and he’s doing a good enough job that you’re desperate for him to finish you off, that you need him to make you come, that only he can get you coming, spasming and spilling slick all into his eagerly awaiting mouth.

He’ll just groan, moans constantly slipping from his lips and muffling against your folds, and frankly, if he wasn’t a sick freak, you’d almost find the sight hot. Because really, a tall, strong man on his knees, face buried in your pussy while he blindly sucks and licks, rubbing his face in you like a dog, panting and cheeks bright red?

He’s the picture of depravity, pathetic and sad, but once he finally pulls away (with strands of your slick connecting him to your cunt, his lips licking feverishly at his lips), he’ll just smile wobbly at you, pressing one last kiss to your clit and whispering that he can’t wait until we’re finally one, I promise I’ll make you feel so good, I want you to squirt for me baby, would you be willing? I want to make you feel the best you ever have - Daddy knows exactly what you need, after all.

MAIN THREE KINKS:

Daddy kink

It’s a pretty recent development, really - before you, he’d never felt any particular draw to being called Daddy in the bedroom.

Really, he didn’t even find sir or master or any other name attractive - it was weird, something he never really understood the appeal of. And even in the beginning of his infatuation with you, this is mostly true - it’s not until he hears you making a joke that things begin to change.

He’s following you one night, listening to you chat on the phone with a friend (a female friend, he checked, though he still doesn’t like that you hug her every time you see her, or that you end each call with a love you, but he lets it slide since he knows you don’t really mean it, at least not in the way that you love him).

You’re laughing at something she said, before saying something along the lines of at least he didn’t make you call him Daddy - imagine that! Your voice went up a few octaves, squealing out a mocking fuck me, Daddy!

Nobunaga’s frozen, his eyes stuck on your face, your words ringing through his head. It’s not that he’s immediately taken with the name, but rather that he notices, in that moment, that it seems to slip off your lips really easily - you sound good saying that, not whiny and annoying like the women in porn sound.

His brows furrow, but he quickly knocks it aside as you keep moving, staying in the shadows so that he can move with you, too. He doesn’t really think of it again until later that night, when he’s standing in your doorway, watching your sleeping figure.

Daddy, huh?

Now that he was giving it some thought, he could see why some men liked it - it was weirdly authoritative, something that felt taboo on his tongue, the way you’d said it even more. He lets the thought marinate, mind wandering to imagining the way you’d sound moaning it, your face all scrunched up in pleasure and the petname falling from your lips as you scratch at his back and clench down on him. It’s a pleasing image, and Nobunaga gulps and shifts his weight, deciding that okay, maybe I could get behind this whole ‘Daddy’ thing.

It’s not until he falls deeper into his obsession that it really starts taking root, though - not until his delusions have fully set in, his mind warped and untethered from reality that he really starts liking the nickname, imagining the way you’d smile up at him and call him that, your lips curving and caressign the syllables, the sultry tone of your voice, the way you’d set your hand on his chest, as if wanting more, the nickname like some dirty innuendo.

Except, as some of his protective tendencies intensify, the nickname takes on a more encompassing role, something he wants to hear both in and out of the bedroom - he’s flooded with fantasies of the way you’d wake up in the morning, planting a kiss on his lips and little murmur of good morning, Daddy.

He’s daydreaming about the way you’d gasp and moan it when he’s got you on your hands and knees, hand smacking your ass and cock bullying its way into you, your breathy gasps and moans making his head spin.

He decides he really, really likes it, and from the moment you end up in captivity, he expects you to refer to him as Daddy, liking it just as much as Nobunaga.

In the bedroom, though, it must be Daddy - you can get away with Nobu sometimes, but a few whimpers of the petname and he’s feral, pumping into you and desperate to get you creaming around him, to feel your walls flutter and clench down on him, squeezing him like a fucking vice.

He likes the power dynamic the petname incites; he’s your protector, the one who’s always taking care of you, making sure you’re happy and safe and that your little cunt is properly satisfied, so why shouldn’t you refer to him as that?

It only makes sense, and he will be actively referring to himself as such too, often switching between first and third person all in reference to himself. It’s exhausting and you’ll think it’s weird, gross at first, but as time passes you’ll slowly find yourself succumbing to it, it all becoming second nature as you kiss his cheek and tell him thank you for the orgasm, Daddy, I can’t wait for tomorrow’s.

(He expects you to thank him after every sexual interaction - after all, he tries so hard to please you; shouldn’t you be a little grateful for all his effort? Even if he didn’t manage to get you there - he still spent a good forty minutes with his head between your legs, and shouldn’t that count for something?)

Don’t try to fight him on the nickname - it’s too ingrained, and you’ll never win, the petname sticking around. He just likes it, the power rush, knowing that if he’s Daddy, then you’re Daddy’s little princess, his sweet little thing that’s all his to love and spoil and fuck.

It just makes sense, and the thought of you calling him that makes him flush, his cock growing hard, his heartbeat growing erratic because god, what he wouldn’t give to hear it.

Mirror sex

Nobunaga’s got this big, framed mirror set up in the bedroom he’s set up just for you, and its presence is no mere coincidence.

It’s huge, easily covering a good third of the wall, its reflection angled perfectly towards the large bed he shares with you. It’s ornate, and while you wonder at first whether it has a purpose or if he just really likes gaudy interior design, as soon as he gets intimate with you, the question is quickly solved.

He’s obsessed with the idea of watching you while he’s touching you, or while you’re touching him. He wants to see you from every angle, not satisfied with one measly view. He needs to see everything, your front, back, side, every curve of your body on display while he fingers you, fucks your throat, makes love to you, as he likes to say.

(Though, you’d argue that the way he clutches onto you, his hips jackhammering, the way he loses control is all much more reminiscent of a wild animal rather than two lovers - as are the sounds he makes when he’s inside you.)

Not every sexual encounter you two share will involve the mirror, but anytime the two of you are in the actual bedroom, he will be positioning you so that he gets the best view, making sure that either your face or your side is facing the glass.

He’s always telling you to look at it, narrating what he’s seeing, telling you that you look so fucking sexy baby, look at the way you’re taking it so well, look at the way Daddy’s cock is just sinking into you so easy, god -

He’s always praising you, forcing you to sit in his lap facing the mirror and spreading your body out, making you spread your thighs and keep your arms at your side, so that your cute cunt and chest are displayed, perfect for him to fondle and grope all while you watch.

He’ll toy with your folds, spreading them and rubbing teasing circles at your clit, growling in your ear that you’re so damn pretty, look at this princess cunt, always sucking my fingers in, always so wet and ready for Daddy, you’re so dirty baby - always wanting Daddy’s attention.

He’ll cup your breasts, pinching and rolling your nipples, laying kisses along your neck and sucking hickeys into your skin, growling about how these tits are so damn perfect, makes Daddy wanna come all over them - you want that, baby? Want Daddy’s cum on your pretty tits?

He’ll make you give him head while he faces the mirror, so that he can look down and see you on your knees, cock disappearing between your lips again and again, all while staring at the curve of your back in the mirror, the way your ass cheeks separate, sighing shakily because you just look so damn pretty from every angle.

His favorite, though, is fucking you with the mirror nearby - particularly, he likes taking you from the back, either facing the mirror or with the mirror at the side. With the former, he can see your face as he fucks you - the way your lips part, eyes rolling to the back of your head, sweat beading at your temple and your brows sinching together. He likes watching you fall apart, and this way he can see your face when you come and watch his cock sink into you, seeing your cute little asshole and grope at your cheeks.

(Especially when your arms give out, collapsing onto your chest with your ass still high in the air, giving him an even better view, one that makes him growl and lean all the way over you, truly looking like an animal as he mounts you.)

When the mirror is set to the side, he pays close attention to the way your entire body is pushed forward by the force of his thrusts, the smack of his hips against yours propelling you forward and making you cry out.

He likes seeing the ripple in the fat of your ass and thighs, seeing how your back arches, and god - the way your tits jiggle, and if they’re big enough, the way they fucking swing? It’s the stuff of wet dreams, and he just can’t stop staring at the profile of your body in the mirror, a hand coming down between your legs to eagerly rub at your clit, grunting out about how you’re so damn sexy baby, Daddy’s sexy girl, fuck fuck fuck!

He’ll even be actively aiming to include the mirror - fucking you directly against it, so that you’re face to face with your reflection, seeing for yourself the way he makes you feel, snapping at you to keep your eyes open and watching.

He’ll even sit you down in front of the mirror, so that your pussy is mere inches away from the glass, and finger you for hours - he won’t give your poor cunt a break, his fingers never stopping their pace as he rubs figure eights on your clit, going so fast and insistent, not willing to stop until he gets you squirting all over the mirror, your pretty reflection tarnished by the clear liquid dripping down the glass, evidence of the way he pleasures you.

He wants you to see how good you look falling apart for him, and how good you look together - how your bodies just seem to meld into one, how every dip and curve of your body perfectly fits against his, how you’re made for one another.

It’s romantic, in his eyes, and while it only really effectively embarrasses you, eventually you’ll grow to enjoy it. Because really, there is something taboo about seeing yourself, and while it made you a bit insecure at first, this way you can see Nobunaga’s face, too. You can see how choked up he gets, how the orgasms you tear from him absolutely wreck him, his cheeks flushed and thin brows furrowed together, even a bit of drool slipping from the edges of his mouth because you just feel so fucking good.

And while you may hate Nobunaga, despise him and wish him dead, there’s something oddly satisfying about knowing that you’re having such an effect on him, that your pussy and body are capable of reducing him to such a fucking mess. It’ll make you feel good, and poor, pathetic Nobunaga will take this as a sign that you want to fuck more, that you’re not satisfied with the every other day schedule you’d been following.

And he’s more than happy to fulfill your wishes - as long as your cunt can handle it, he’d gladly spend the rest of his life snug in its warm embrace - snug inside you.

Corruption kink

Nobunaga is firmly under the impression that you’re a complete and utter virgin.

He fully believes, with every bit of his heart, that you’ve never known the touch of another, that you’ve never been pleasured or have pleasured anyone else.

It doesn’t matter whether it’s true, whether you have more experience than him, even - you are a virgin, and that’s final. Perhaps, you’ve never even kissed anyone before - as soon as the thought flits into his head, he decides he likes it, deciding that it’s the truth, that you’re truly, utterly inexperienced, and therefore it’s his job to make sure you learn.

It’s his responsibility to make sure you’re properly taught, that you feel comfortable and eager to enter this new world of sexuality, even if you’re already proficient. It’s infuriating, the way he totally disregards anything you say that negates this belief, even throwing to the wind any skill you showcase to him - it doesn’t matter if you give him the absolute best head he’s ever had.

You’re still a virgin, and the male body is still an enigma to you. As a result, Nobunaga will feel that he needs to introduce you to sex, starting from the absolute basics - he has to teach you to kiss.

He’ll sit you down, his cheeks a bit pink, this oddly intense look in his eyes as he shuffles closer to you, so that your thighs are flush.

Listen, baby, there’s something I need to show you, he starts, gulping. Kissing goes like this - I’m going to lean in, and I want you to do what you feel me doing. He leans in much too quickly, practically headbutting you in his desire to get his lips on yours, and distantly you wonder who the hell taught him to kiss because there’s too much spit, too much tongue, too much of everything.

But when you don’t respond, he’ll pull back slightly, dark eyes flicking between your own eyes as he tells you don’t be scared, I promise it’ll feel good, how can you get better if you don’t try?

He’ll keep going until you eventually start kissing him back, the moan he lets into your mouth making you shiver in disgust, but he won’t just stop there - the kisses get more frantic, and suddenly he’s pushing you onto your back, hovering above you and letting his dark hair fall over his shoulders.

He’ll kiss you for a long while, enough to leave your lips swollen, before eventually pulling back, panting and wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand.

Now, baby, I’m gonna show you how it feels to be touched, if something feels especially good let Daddy know. He’s quick to tug your shirt over your head, letting a smile flit across his lips as he sees your bare chest and stomach (he’d not brought any of your bras with him when he stole you away, and thus you have none to wear - giving him quick, easy access), meeting your gaze and telling you that you’re so beautiful, a body like this deserves to be worshiped, so glad Daddy’s the only one who’s ever seen these pretty tits…

He’ll reach down and cup them, thumbing over your nipples, sucking in a sharp breath because you’re so damn soft. Your face will crinkle up in disgust as he brings his mouth down to suck at them, but he misreads this as pleasure, letting his teeth nibble on your sensitive skin and very lightly biting, making you yelp.

Shh, it’s okay, I know it feels good, just let it take over, don’t fight it baby.

He’ll move to your shorts next, tugging down the hem along with the pretty lace panties he’d forced you into that morning, your body now bare and exposed underneath him. He whines, his eyes wide and irises blown out, a long, slender finger running from your sternum down to your naval, both hands coming down to rub circles right over your hipbones.

Now baby, I know you’re probably scared - but Daddy’s got you, he’ll make sure you’re feeling good.

His voice is uneven, rising and falling along with his heavy breaths, but before you can comment he’s reaching down, spreading your legs and pulling you closer to him. He licks his lips again as he stares, coming down to lay on his stomach and get his face as close to your cunt as he can manage, so that you can feel his breath against your skin.

He’s brushing his fingers along your slit, rubbing at your clit, sinking them inside and curling, his own whimpers slipping past his lips at the feeling of your folds significantly louder than your own.

All the while, he’s telling you that this is called fingering, do you like it? Hope so, because soon Daddy’s gonna put something much bigger inside - no don’t worry! It’ll be good, it’ll feel good, he’ll give you an orgasm, I promise.

Soon he’s reaching down and licking at you, his eyes rolling to the back of his head because you taste fucking divine, and he’s quick to tell you as much, moaning out fuck baby, you taste so good, making me so damn hard - do you wanna see? Do you want to see Daddy’s cock, see what you do to me?

And you don’t really answer, or at least Nobunaga doesn’t listen to your answer - he’s suddenly standing up, ripping off his kimono and letting it fall to the ground, immediately palming his cock and shuddering a bit, his gaze not leaving you. You’re still laying on the bed, and he comes up to stand beside you, his cock mere inches from your face.

See how hard it is for you? You make me like this, Daddy gets so fucking hard when he’s near you, I just want you so bad.

He’s slowly stroking himself, his length already fully engorged, and you can see the way his tip is shining in the light, precum smeared all across it.

He’s biting his lip, slowly bringing it closer and closer and closer, before telling you you can touch it, use firm touches and don’t be scared - it’s warm, and sometimes it moves on its own, but Daddy would fucking love it if you’d touch it.

And when you reach out, slowly wrapping your fingers around it, Nobunaga can’t help but throw his head back and thrust forward slightly, the friction making him hiss. Fuck baby, how’re you so good at this? ‘Ts like you’re made for stroking Daddy’s cock…

After a while of thrusting into your hand he’ll move on, breathing heavily and desperate for more. He’ll lean forward a bit and press his tip to your lips, telling you to open up baby, gotta teach you how to suck cock, we’ll go nice and slow, I think you’ll love it.

He pushes in slowly, with a long, low groan, his fingers clutching at the sheets of the bed, eyes squeezed shut because god, how is your mouth so wonderful and wet and warm? Bob your head baby, back and forth, use your tongue and run it over the tip, mmhm, fuck baby just like that, Daddy likes that, fuck!

He’ll start thrusting too, shallowly, though occasionally it’ll slip too far, the tip reaching back and choking you, and when this happens he’ll just chuckle through a gasp, running a hand through his hair and murmuring soon we’ll get you trained to take it all the way - shit, Daddy wants you to take all of him soon.

Eventually, though, he’ll be crawling back over you, grasping his cock and lining it up with your folds, pressing a deep, wet kiss against your lips and slowly sinking in, hissing out to relax baby, you’re too fucking tight, deep breaths, don’t be scared, Daddy will fuck you right, he’ll make you first time special, just please - please relax or else I can’t get in!

And as he slowly starts thrusting, balls gently smacking against your ass, he’ll lean up to whisper in your ear, one hand finding a home at your breast.

Shh, shh, don’t worry, it’ll feel good in a minute, just gotta stretch you out a bit - yeah? You like that? Daddy likes that too, but it’s gonna get faster, ‘m gonna fuck you a bit harder, get you used to the way Daddy’ll fuck you from here on - nice and hard, just like you deserve, angel.

And with that he’s picking up the pace, ramming into you and groaning your name, burying his face into your neck while you cry out, the sudden change in speed making your back arch. He’s still speaking into your neck, praising you for taking it so well, claiming you’re made for this, that your cute little virgin cunt must want him badly enough that you’re adjusting so quickly, even clenching down on him and grinding back.

He’s in ecstasy, and as he nears his orgasm he’ll pull back slightly, grunting in your ear that he’s gonna come, Daddy’s gonna come inside you, you just - fuck, just look pretty and take it for him, yeah? Shit baby, it’s close, little cunt’s squeezing so tight, oh - oh fuck, it’s coming, take it all for Daddy, take it -!

And soon there’s little spurts of warmth, making you feel sticky and wet, and Nobunaga’s moaning in your ear, slurred syllables of your name as his hips rut and unevenly clap into yours, the last bits of his orgasm slowly leaving him.

He just likes talking you through everything, pretending as if you’re fully innocent, as if he’s the very first one to get his greedy hands on you - after all, you’re his, and wouldn’t it just be perfect if you’d been saving yourself for him?

Wouldn’t it just be right if you’d been carefully thwarting other men, keeping your virginity intact so that it can be taken by the only one who really loves you?

Nobunaga thinks so, and even after he’s fucked you a few times, the patronizing way he guides you and teaches you never really fading.

(Often, he’ll even teach you the wrong things - he’s showing you how to properly touch yourself so that you can take care of yourself when Troupe business takes him away for periods of time, and you want to scream because he keeps neglecting your clit, the little nub swollen and begging for attention, telling you that it’ll come eventually if you just keep rubbing that spot inside you that feels so good, exactly like his cock does. It won’t, but he seems convinced.)

Just let him believe that you’re utterly inexperienced, that you’re totally ignorant of anything involving sex, because no matter what you say or how you fight him on it, his beliefs are law. Always.

OTHER NOTABLE KINKS INCLUDE:

Scent kink

Nobunaga is a dirty, disgusting man.

He has absolutely no sense of boundaries when it comes to you, believing that since you’re lovers and clearly soulmates, there shouldn’t be any boundaries between you. He doesn’t keep anything from you, so why should you keep anything from him?

It would be wrong to not be completely open with one another, and Nobunaga takes this in the most literal sense. As a result, he has no shame when he discovers his affinity for smelling you. You’ve always had a scent he likes; something calming, a hint of sweet, something smooth and warm and sexy, and that’s just your natural aroma, something Nobunaga swears is his own personal drug.

But your cunt?

Well, that smells like something else entirely - something earthy, musky, heavy, and because you insist on wearing panties at all hours of the day, he’s bit limited on when he can get a good, deep sniff like he wants.

(Although, you’ll notice that when he’s got you naked, spread before him and ripe to tease and fuck and taste, he’s always leaning down, getting his nose right up to your folds and inhaling, deeply enough that its audible, making you embarrassed and try to close your legs. This only inadvertently brings his head closer, giving him an even better smell, making him moan and start rutting against the nearest surface.)

Instead, he has to find alternative outlets when the mood strikes him and you’re not currently getting intimate.

And so, Nobunaga falls back on those damn panties, deciding that if you’re going to be so insistent and constantly wear them, then he’ll make the most of it.

There is no dirty laundry hamper with him - when you’re done with a pair, you must hand them to him, directly, reporting to him how long you’ve had them on, whether you were aroused while wearing them, and if so, what you were thinking about.

He’ll keep them stashed away, one always tucked into the waistbelt of his kimono, so that whenever the mood strikes him, he can reach down and take a good, long sniff, sighing and palming himself through his clothing.

You just smell so damn good, and he’ll hold onto them until you’re complaining that you don’t have any more clean ones, that you need to do the laundry. He’ll just cock a brow and tell you that he’s not convinced you want them all that badly, why don’t you show Daddy just how much you want them.

And it’s only after he’s down fucking your throat that he’ll hand them back over, ready for you to clean them, only for the cycle to restart all over again.

(Although, for the mean time, since you don’t have any to wear while you’re cleaning, why don’t you wear a pair of his underwear - don’t mind the fresh, suspicious stains. That’s not cum, just - just something that looks like it, that’s all. Just put them on, because he’ll keep those after you’re done too, smelling both your scents combined, something perfect and wonderful and unexplainably ours, as he likes to say.)

Thigh riding

While he prefers to be taking an active role in your pleasure, even Nobunaga can’t deny that there’s something enticing about the idea of you just using him, of simply watching you try and get yourself off using his body.

It just reinstates his belief that you need him, that you aren’t capable of orgasming without his touch - or, at least, without his body. It makes him feel good, and very quickly he’ll be perching you on his knee, smiling at you with that same half-lidded, dopey grin, telling you to go wild baby, Daddy wants to watch you make a mess.

He’ll help guide your hips at first, pushing you down a bit and forward, making sure your cunt is rubbing against the muscles of his thigh, humming out a that’s it baby, good girl, keep going.

Then he’ll lean back, staring at you the whole time, enjoying the feeling of your cunt slowly growing wet, the slick smearing across his bare skin, the warmth overwhelming. It’s a real test of his patience, though, because while you look incredibly hot rutting against his thigh, dragging yourself along the muscle, it’s excruciating having to hold himself back from just impaling you on his cock, grabbing you by the hips and yanking you down so that he’s buried in that wet heat you’re teasing him with.

But he’ll grit his teeth, trying to distract himself by staring at your body. He likes the way your tits sway when you do this, nipples pebbled and peaked, and he’ll often reach out and pinch at one, liking the way you yelp and jerk a bit. He’ll watch the pudge of your tummy, your abdominal muscles rolling and clenching as you slowly work yourself, his fingers longing to reach out and grope at the soft fat.

And your face? Oh, he thinks you don’t realize how seductive you look like this - biting your lip, desperate to get more friction and more solid pleasure, the feeling of grinding against his thigh not nearly enough to get you off.

And eventually, he’ll take pity on you, asking if you’re close. You’ll whine and tell him no, ‘m not, I need more, and Nobunaga can’t help the way his cock visibly bobs at that, at what you’re insinuating. You want Daddy’s cock, baby?

You’ll hate yourself for it, but you’ll nod, needing something more than what you’re currently getting, but Nobunaga won’t mind providing for your needs - not at all, liking the idea of you being all desperate and needy for him, for his touch and body and cock.

So while it’s not something that happens super frequently, when Nobunaga wants to teach you a lesson or just simply watch you, he’ll put you on his thigh, telling you to get to work, give Daddy a show, and expecting you to hump and grind at him until you’re near tears, desperate enough to come that you’ll beg.

BIGGEST FANTASY:

In general, most activities in the bedroom with him will be more humiliating, always making you feel like you’re incompetent and in need of being taught a lesson (how to properly take his cock, how to behave, how to just lay there and look pretty while he does all the hard work).

There’s just something about him that makes you feel small and weak, and with the way he’s always spouting nonsense about how you really feel, total delusions about what you are and what he’s done to you, you’ll slowly feel like you’re going crazy.

But Nobunaga, on the other hand, loves the atmosphere between the sheets with you - he’s been dreaming of getting intimate with for so fucking long, wanting to touch you and kiss you and make you scream his name, and now that he’s finally, finally getting to do all those things, he’s a bit of a lost cause.

He’s so consumed by all the various fantasies he wants to enact with you that he gets swallowed up, too overwhelmed to really wade his way through. And yet, there’s this one scenario that’s been in his head for as long as his feelings for you have been in his heart; that is, Nobunaga wants desperately to give your cute little pussy an inspection, to study every part of you and make sure that everything is in working order, that you’ve been good.

It’s a way to exercise his control over you, feeling dominant and powerful and like he’s taking care of you, but even more than that, it allows him to unabashedly stare at you, to examine the most intimate part of you. It gets him giddy, just the thought making his cock stand at attention, his fingers shaking a bit and his heart thrumming in his chest.

It would just be so damn hot, and you’d look so cute at his mercy, with your fingers spreading your pussy lips so that he has the best view, legs spread wide open to accommodate his body, because he really has to be as close as possible in order to really observe, to really see everything.

It’s something he’s always idly wanted, and as soon as he’s got you under his thumb, he’ll be enacting it - he’s just looking out for you after all, because while he cares about every part of you, he’s especially partial to your little cunt, so much so that he’s willing to take the extra time and give it the care and attention it deserves. More than willing.

He’s still in that honeymoon stage, having only relocated you a few days ago, and as soon as you walk out of the bedroom, rubbing at your sleepy eyes and yawning, he’s beaming. Immediately he’s racing to you, arms circling around your torso as he squeezes you into a hug, leaning down and letting his nose burrow into your neck, breathing deeply. “Goodmorning baby, how did you sleep?”

You’re still all shy, not able to look at him in the eye, and as you pull back, you mumble a small ‘good’. Nobunaga sighs, fingers playing with a piece of your hair, before resting his hands on your shoulders.

Part of the reason he’d been in such a good mood this morning was that today was a very special day - he’d had this planned for months now, excitement brewing in his chest as the days drew closer and closer, eagerness settling in his chest. It was finally the day he’d decided that he’d give you a proper inspection, just to make sure that your pussy is all ready and prepared for him, so that he can get you feeling good and making you cream daily from here on out.

He shivers, swallowing. “Okay baby, follow me.”

He takes you over to the dining table, the wood an oaky color, and tells you to hop up onto the table. “Go on, get that cute little ass up there.”

You follow his commands without any hesitation, settling yourself on the table and looking at him expectantly. He was playing with his hands, tongue flicking out over his lips, and distantly you wonder what he has in mind.

“Spread your legs, angel, Daddy wants what’s in the middle.”

You blanch at his words, embarrassment creeping up your spine. When you don’t move, Nobunaga’s smile twitches a bit, and he’s grabbing your ankles himself, spreading your legs and shimmying your panties down your thighs, stuffing them firmly in his pocket as he gulps. “Fuck, baby, you’re so pretty…”

You can’t look at him as he settles onto his knees, coming closer until he’s right eye level with your cunt, his lips slightly parted to accommodate the way his breathing is growing more labored by the minute.

After a few moments his gaze flicks up to you. “I’ve gotta take a good look at this pussy baby, gotta make sure you’ve been good. Daddy can’t fuck you until he’s sure you’ve been a good girl, that you’ve been taking care of yourself and you aren’t too stretched out from him showing you how to finger yourself the other day.”

He licks his lips again. “Spread yourself for me.”

You do as he says, pulling your lips back to expose the soft inside to his prying gaze, the cold air of the kitchen making you clench up. Nobunaga watches the movement carefully, unable to look away as you lightly spasm, nervous and embarrassed at the way you’re so exposed for him. He’s tilting his head this way and that, looking at every angle, eyes appraising every nook and cranny.

“Fuck baby, looks good so far… let’s check that little clit.” He’s nearly whispering now, too lost in his own world as he reaches out and brushes his thumb over your nub, chuckling when you jerk a bit at the contact. “Good, you’re sensitive… Daddy likes it when you’re sensitive.”

His thumb comes down to swipe over your hole, feeling the way you clench yet again at the slight contact. He throws you a playful glare. “You’re so dirty, getting all excited from the inspection. Daddy’s gonna have to punish you for that, you know.”

You shiver at his words, biting your lip and shoving your hips forward, a bit of your confidence having returned despite his heavy stare.

“Mmm, you’re not as wet as I hoped, but that’s okay, I can still get what I need…” He trails off, before leaning forward and licking a long, languid stripe up your exposed hole, closing his eyes and letting the taste of you sit in his mouth, smacking his lips a bit to make sure he fully tastes your flavor. “Good, good, you taste like you should baby. So proud, you’re doing so good so far.”

He gives you a little kiss on the inside of your thigh to punctuate his point.

“Only one thing left now, baby, almost done and then -” He shudders. “Then, we can do something more fun - Daddy can show you what he’s been wanting to do to you since last night.”

You’re still spreading apart your lips, and Nobunaga gets ever close, a finger prodding and lightly pushing into you, feeling around your walls. It almost feels like he’s searching for something, curling and rubbing against certain areas.

Soon it stops though, and he lets that dopey, too-wide smile slip onto his lips. “Perfect baby, Daddy’s little cunt is nice and tight. You’ve been good, haven’t been putting anything too big up there - that’s good, it’ll show you how nice and big Daddy is, how he can fill you up just right.”

He shivers at the thought, leaning forward one more time to give a nice, hearty suck right over your puckering hole, before pulling back and licking the slick off his lips. Soon he’s standing up, his kimono untied and falling to the floor, and he’s grabbing your hips, flipping you over so that you’re on your stomach, ass pulled to the edge of the table. He leans over you, cock pressed against your asscheeks, and you feel him throb as he sighs out.

“Ready, baby? I know your pussy’s ready - I can read her like a book, it’s Daddy’s pussy, after all. And she’d never lie to Daddy…” He traces a finger up your spine, before grabbing your neck, slender fingers wrapping around the thin skin.

“Now get ready to scream Daddy’s name, and don’t worry about making a mess. I’ll clean you right up.” He lines his tip up with your hole, spreading your cheeks ever so slightly to make room for himself. “Remember to tell Daddy when you’re coming, he wants to come with you. Deep breaths, angel, it’s going in now.”

And as he pushes in, he can’t help but groan - you were still so damn tight, his inspection not lying when he’d discovered you hadn’t stretched yourself out on anything lately. He gasps your name and pushes in flush, his balls snug against your clit, before coming down to kiss at your shoulders. “Remember, if you want to show Daddy you love him, you’ll come for him. And you do love him, right?”

You answer with a mix of a sob and a moan as he starts clapping into you, hips smacking so loudly it’s the only thing audible in the tiny kitchen, aside from your cries and his grunts.

And, when you’re wailing out that you’re close a few minutes later, Nobunaga can only groan, feeling his own orgasm hurtling towards him. This is the last part of the inspection, the last thing you need to pass before Nobunaga’s free to fuck you as he pleases - can you hold everything he gives you? Can your little pussy store every last drop he pushes into you?

And, the more important question that comes a few minutes after that - can it hold two loads?

#yandere hxh #yandere hunter x hunter #yandere nobunaga #yandere nobunaga hazama #hxh smut #_lee's profiles #_hxh #_nobunaga hazama

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frostedlemonwriter · 4 months

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A Re-Introduction to Writeblr

My name is Eric, and I'm a bit of a writer. Pansexual and in the past I identified as bisexual. I came out in 2002, but I never really brought it up either. Not until I found LiveJournal some years later. Now I'm proud of who and what I am. I've been diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder and ADHD. It runs in the family since some members of my father's family had Manic Depression, an old term for it. I try my best but often fail, and I apologize for when I do.

Okay with all that out of the way, as I mentioned I am a bit of a writer. My first story was a play I wrote in the fourth grade. At least the first story I can recall with more than just vague memories. Followed by sporadic writing over the years until about 2008/2009 when I started writing fanfic on a consistent basis. I will not mention the fandom here, though.

Now! I do tend to just write whatever I want. But cyberpunk, fantasy, and fantasy-western are the three rather vague genres I write in the most.

If you are so kind donate to my ko-fi.

Stories under the cut

STORIES

The Voice In The Wires

Shortly after a gifted, but troubled, high school senior--Rachel--kills herself. The junior--Danika--she tutored begins to received text messages and DMs from someone who claims to be the dead student. At first Danika calls it off as someone playing a bad prank. Yet after she finds out other students she tutored received similar messages, Danika delves deep to find who would do such a thing.

Only to find herself going down a rabbit hole that leads to experimental nano-drugs, corporate cover-ups, and a young woman who discovers an ability to directly connect to the internet--where the vengeful spirit of Rachel dwells.

Tag: #voiceinthewires

By Axe & Arrow: The Saga of Teagen

Finished!

After her parents died when their longship capsized in service of Jarl Viggo Iverssen. He took in their only child, a young girl named Teagen. Born under an auspicious sign that the jarl’s seer divined weeks beforehand, he took her into his own longhouse. Without restriction, she could pursue a life of her own desire alongside with twin sisters Astrid and Helga, her best-friends, and youngest children, to the jarl. Almost forgotten, they too could find their honor and glory alongside their friend if they didn’t tear each other apart along the way. At the beginning of the viking age, many legends were still to come and Teagen would do anything to become one.

Tag: #axe&arrow

At The End of a Warm Gun

Finished!

Alexandra Sullivan is a young woman with a natural talent for marksmanship, and perhaps too strong of a sense of justice. Despite some tragedy, she doesn't stop her from pursuing her dream.

Backstory: The Union broke at the battle of Gettysburg on that second day, General Meade's larger force routed by the stubborn defense of the Confederates. Bloody familial war waged until Washington D.C., besieged and starving with its port blockade by English ships, conceded. The Confederate States of America had earned its independence -- it didn't last long.

Tag: #warmgun

Also various other WIPs.

I have a novel I am working on that I am not quite ready to debut. Alongside various short stories.

#writeblr #writers of tumblr #authors of tumblr

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explorevenus · 1 year

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piercing porcelain, crimson sap ♡ vampire!steddie x reader (pt. 1)

recommended listening - dracula (nate sees cassie) - labrinth

this part is generally sfw but the bulk of this series will be nsfw (18+) - so minors dni !!!!! or i will call ur mom

word count - 5k

description - in a fantasy world, reader is from a small, remote village. for many years you have been drawn to the mysterious mansion in the woods, the very same mansion you were warned against visiting for so long. you’ve tended to the neglected garden since you were young, growing attached to the strange, abandoned structure, only to one day find out the mansion isn’t as vacant as you’d thought...

tags/warnings - vampire!steddie, dark!steddie, innocent!reader, fem/afab!reader, pet names, no use of (Y/N), stevie is a lil cold at first but he warms up i promise, eddie is v manipulative lol, implied hypnosis, no smut yet but i promise it’s coming, fantasy elements obvi

a/n - ok i know this premise is done to death and like somewhat out of left field for a fucking stranger things fic but HEAR ME OUT. HEAR ME OUT OKAY. i am a SLUT for sexy mysterious vampire boys and i’ll be DAMNED if i don’t turn steve and eddie into sexy mysterious vampire boys at least once before i die. thank u for understanding and if u see this and it flops no u didn’t ♡

taglist - @urlbitchin

my masterlist ♡

part 2 coming soon ! lmk if u want to be added to the taglist :)

fic below the cut, thanks for reading and i hope u enjoy ♡

-venus ♡

Growing up in the woods, you were always taught to avoid the decrepit old mansion that hid away in the shadows of the tall trees, a warning you would heed with great caution as a child, but not so much as you grew into your teenage years.

You were 15 when you first felt the urge to rebel, or rather when you first failed to fight it off. Restricting yourself to only the outside of the property, to make yourself feel better about your choices, if anything, you had set off along the overgrown path that winded northeast and just down the valley, into a remote corner of the wilderness where the decaying building loomed tall, quieting the forest around it.

Based on all the horror stories you'd been told over the years, you expected to find the place teeming with evil spirits, or perhaps grotesque monsters; but, it was silent as could be, utterly vacant by the looks of it, and at first, rather underwhelming. You thought to yourself that maybe that was the point of all those hyperbolic cautionary tales that the elders passed down, to build up this great big image of what evil might be hiding away here, only for the purpose of letting down those expectations later. You were ready to give up and walk home, disappointed by your findings (or lack thereof), when you caught sight of a beautiful jungle of plants out of the corner of your eye-- they were bursting through the gaps in an old iron fence. It was a long forgotten garden, and as luck would have it, plenty of the plants there were invaluable for your alchemical endeavors.

Every now and then you would slip away and return to the garden, mindlessly sifting through the salvageable ingredients, and as the years went on you'd made a habit of tidying up the weeds where you could, too. Your interest in alchemy hadn't fully extended to an interest in gardening, so you weren't the most experienced by any means, but it was amazing what the smallest loving touch could do for a long forgotten place. Not to mention, the ridding of the weeds allowed the more sought after plants to properly flourish. It became your own private place, your own little slice of heaven, untouched by anyone but yourself. You loved the community you'd grown up in, but you felt an immense comfort near that strange mansion.

In your adulthood you only began to spend more time at the property, caring for the precious plants and dreaming that the mansion was yours, dreaming that you were not a village witch thieving ingredients for a living but the mistress of a beautiful household, gardening for pleasure in her overabundance of free time. It wasn't so much the material that you wanted, no, but the freedom-- freedom from the dangers of the woods, freedom from that constant worry of being unable to provide for yourself, for your village. It was nice to fantasize sometimes.

On this particular afternoon, it was overcast when you were readying yourself to leave the village, so you saw it fit to bring an umbrella. The prospect of rain didn't bother you a bit, or change your plans to visit the mansion at all-- it had been too long since the last rainfall, so both yourself and the plants were sorely needing it anyway. You lifted the hood of your soft cloak over your head and stepped outside, flower basket in-hand and toting a leather backpack full of various gardening supplies.

Cutting through the trees to that fading old pathway, little rocks and twigs crunching ambiently beneath your boots, you looked up at the grey sky above to see that it was only continuing to darken on the horizon. Thick black clouds loomed in the distance, swallowing up every last bit of sunlight and visibly unleashing buckets of rain upon the northern end of the mountain range, and they were barreling closer at a rate highly noticeable to the naked eye. You briefly considered turning back, but decided to stick to it anyway, given the worst case scenario was having to walk home drenched.

That old iron fence creaked loudly in greeting as you entered, even louder than usual due to the moisture in the air. You closed it softly behind you and made your way over to the patch of nightshade that you'd been tending to. You propped your umbrella up on the stump of a nearby tree, crouched beneath it, and got to work pulling up weeds as little droplets began to fall around you. The petrichor was delightful and comforting, and the rainfall softened the earth enough to make it just a little easier to uproot things. It didn't take long for you to settle into a comfortable autopilot mode as the droplets became gradually larger, and more plentiful.

Eddie and Steve liked this kind of rain.

Any kind of rain was favored, of course, but today was unmistakably a treat. The clouds were so dense and blackened with excess that no sunlight could hope to shine through. There was much excitement to be had on darkened days such as these, for a creature of the night-- the ability to roam during waking hours provided an entirely new insight into the lives and routines of their prospective cattle, and as a bonus, the moisture in the air tended to strengthen certain scents.

But, in a more wholesome light, it was quite nice to reminisce in the long faded memory of their own mortality, to pretend, if even just for one afternoon, that their hearts may beat with vitality as they once did, that their bodies might once again hunger for fruit or pastries instead of thick red blood. It was a perfect day for a stroll, Eddie thought, and if they were to happen upon something suitable to dine on in the process, well, that's all the better...

Unfortunately, for his own skeptical reasons, Steve didn't seem to agree. He felt that it was too much of a risk to be seen by anyone, that it would blow their cover, and perhaps his paranoia was not entirely unfounded, though Eddie hesitated to give in. Not only had it been a while since the last good rainfall like this, but it had certainly been far too long since they'd found a new plaything, and Eddie was becoming... rather restless. The last few cattle they'd brought in hadn't really wowed him, as they were chosen more out of necessity and convenience than pleasure, and in turn, it took hardly any time at all for him to grow bored with them. Eddie needed something new, something exciting to keep him entertained for much, much longer than that. The weather provided the most enticing opportunity to stalk around, it was a shame that Steve was so adamantly against it. He could really be no fun sometimes.

Eddie was sulking around the mansion while Steve worked away in the upstairs office-- he had taken the additional waking hours as an opportunity to get ahead on his obligations, which was quite characteristically responsible of him, but Eddie couldn't bring himself to sit still, knowing that such a golden opportunity was being wasted. He could only rearrange the liquor cabinet so many times, let alone the furniture-- the exterior of the mansion was to remain untouched, to maintain the illusion of vacancy. With each passing second, the temptation to slip out for a bit to hunt while Steve worked was picking away at him.

Tossing the idea around, just for fun, of course, Eddie approached the nearest window and drew back the heavy red curtains for a peek outside-- just a scan of the property couldn't hurt, right?-- and as his mocha eyes followed along the treeline surrounding the property, he didn't see anything out of the ordinary, but he froze in place as he picked up on an intriguing scent. Curiously, Eddie cracked the old window open, letting in a draft of the cool, fresh air, and just as he'd hoped, it carried with it the sweet smell of living flesh. The stars couldn't have aligned more beautifully-- there was a human nearby.

To avoid alerting Steve, Eddie quickly sealed the window shut once more, slinking away up the stairs for a better view from the windows in the master bedroom. They were bigger than the ones in the hallway, had a much higher vantage point, and more conveniently, faced the single overgrown path that led to and from the property. Truthfully, he hadn't expected to find much-- Eddie didn't really consider himself lucky, and he knew that the powerful scents carried by the humid air could sometimes be deceiving.

Still, just as he'd done before, he drew back the curtains and cracked the window, peering outward, noting that the human's scent was stronger here. It was floral and saccharine, like fresh lavender and juicy peach, laced with ribbons of intoxicating iron. Eddie's lashes fluttered as his eyes slid shut in delight, and he allowed himself a moment to breathe in deeply with an open, slightly watering mouth.

His eyes opened again and immediately caught sight of movement on the ground below. Eddie couldn't believe his eyes at first; crouched beneath an umbrella in the garden was a pretty little witch, muddying her slight hands in the thick weeds with no evident knowledge of the mansion's occupants. She wore a pale pink cloak that matched her boots and her umbrella, the white frills of her dress poofing out from beneath it, pointed elven ears peeking through her hair. Eddie could hardly fathom leaving the girl out in the rain-- after all, she must be freezing...

Eddie briefly considered asking Steve for his opinion, but had a sore feeling that he knew what he would say, and it wasn't likely to be in his favor. Deep down, he knew that it might be a reckless move, but the aroma in the air was all too enticing. With every passing second he was losing grasp of his better judgement. The temptation was far too much, and so it was that he gathered an umbrella of his own, and decided he would rather ask for forgiveness later. His sleek black dress shoes went from tapping elegantly across the hardwood floors to sinking into the wet earth. While he wasn't exactly thrilled that his expensive shoes had been exposed to the elements, he knew that the reward could be well worth it. Conveniently, too, the softness of the ground masked the noise of his movements, allowing him a bit more time to observe the girl in her relaxed state. Eddie approached the little elf slowly, not wanting to frighten her. She was so absorbed in her work that she hadn't even looked up.

In all honesty, the girl's unmoving focus and lowered guard brought a little smirk to Eddie's face. Finally, he asked aloud, "My, sweetheart, aren't you cold?" His voice was so warm and sweet, but somehow chilling, too.

You startled, freezing in place as your eyes raked up the length of his body before you-- he was so tall, with long legs clad in nice black slacks that fit him sinfully well, and contrasted to his pale white skin in a way that gave him a nearly unnatural glow. His alabaster face was framed by wildly curly, dark hair, tucked into a messy low bun behind his neck. You couldn't find the words to speak-- he was certainly stunning, a sight for sore eyes, but you had definitely not expected to see anyone out here, let alone in this weather, and it was even weirder that he was able to sneak up on you.

"Oh, you poor thing, you're shivering..." The mysterious man frowned, crouching to your level, fingertips tracing along the underside of her jaw. Little did you know that he was feeling for your pulse. "Why don't you come inside and warm up, hm? We'll get you out of this rain and into some dry clothes."

Inside...? You were only puzzled further-- as far as you knew, this mansion had been vacant for decades, and it certainly looked the part. The garden was far from the only section of it that had fallen into disrepair. The circumstances of this situation were overtly suspicious, but there was something about him that just made it so hard to say no. The mysterious man was equal parts haunting and alluring, comforting and hazardous. Before you could say anything, he reached forward to wrap an arm around your shoulders and then began to usher you indoors.

Shutting the heavy oak door softly behind you, the man rested a hand on your shoulder from behind. "May I take your umbrella?" He kindly asked.

"T-Thank you," You blushed, shakily handing your umbrella over to the man, suddenly being washed over by a feeling of guilt for dripping water all over the beautiful hardwood flooring. "I-I'm so sorry, I didn't know anyone lived here--"

"Shh, it's quite alright, angel," He soothed, hand sliding from your shoulder to your collarbone as he stepped forward, and twisted around to face you. Every movement he made was so enchanting, so graceful, you nearly tripped over yourself as he was stepping out of his muddy shoes. "I appreciate the company. It's not often we get visitors out here."

You were then given absolutely no time to ponder the implication of the word 'we' as the man asked for your name. Somewhat warily, you gave it to him. He hummed contentedly, testing the name out on his tongue, and he was very much pleased with how it felt.

"How pretty," He mused. "And how sweet of you to take such good care of our garden... it's nice to meet you. I'm Eddie."

You were immediately flustered at the praise, cheeks flushing bright pink as your eyes darted somewhere else, drinking in your surroundings-- perhaps the outside of the mansion was falling apart, but the inside was truly beautiful. Dark, but beautiful. Intricately carved wooden furniture decorated the space, fine paintings adorned the deep blue walls which flickered a warm orange with cozy candlelight, and the ceilings were so high that it made you feel particularly small. It looked almost regal.

Eddie gently reached for your hand, bringing you swiftly back to reality. "Why don't you come upstairs and we'll get you out of those wet clothes, hm?" He asked, but he was already leading the way-- again, there was something unnaturally persuasive about him, and it went far deeper than his unparalleled beauty. You rounded a corner and began to ascend the winding staircase, the fine wood creaking softly beneath your steps.

Clearing your throat nervously, you finally mustered up the courage to speak. "Do you live alone here?"

Eddie shook his head, leading you down a hallway at the top of the staircase. You followed obediently. "I have a roommate, an... old friend, named Steve," Eddie explained over his shoulder. "He's working away in his office, but I hope we see him soon. I would love to introduce you."

Of course, Eddie was well aware that your scent would soon breach the door to Steve's office, that it was only a matter of time until he'd follow it through the house until it led him to the both of you. He knew Steve would be angry with him, but he also knew Steve would have a hard time saying no to such a pretty meal laid out just for him. Eddie was willing to take that risk.

One of two thick oak doors creaked open before you, revealing an immaculate master bedroom. The windows were blocked with heavy black drapes which matched the dark, plush bedding, complimented by the stained wood floor. The walls were painted a deep, navy blue, shrouding the room in darkness save for the soft light of a bedside lamp crafted of Tiffany glass.

"You have a beautiful home," You spoke softly, eyes fixated to the many intricate details of the space that seemed endless, every flick of your eyes uncovering new treasures to be admired-- paintings, trinkets, candles long burnt down and dripping hardened wax down their bases.

Eddie chuckled, gazing at you out of the corner of his eye as he rifled through the closet for something you could wear, though it was hard for him to make a decision. You looked so adorable in your soft colored clothes, even drenched in rain and speckled with earth, and he sadly didn't have anything that matched your gentle appearance.

"Thank you, doll. You're very sweet," He finally replied, and as the words left his lips he noticed your polite manners. You observed your surroundings quietly, hands clasped in front of you as you made the noticed choice not to overstep, not to touch anything without permission, not to look too closely at any one thing.

It came as a surprise to him when he felt his cold heart swell. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt such a way about someone he'd tricked into his home for a quick meal.

He brought his attention back to the closet, giving up on his own side and choosing instead to rummage through Steve's-- yet another decision he might come to regret, but at least Steve was more likely to own something soft and colorful. Almost immediately his eyes landed on a thick yellow sweater that would surely warm you up. Eddie plucked it off of its hanger and turned to hand it to you.

However, you were lost in an oil painting on the wall, wide eyes glassy with wonder as you looked over each brushstroke of a glowing crescent moon over a stream of rushing water. Eddie and Steve had acquired that painting so long ago that Eddie couldn't even remember where it came from or who painted it, but just how mesmerized you were by the piece was art enough for him.

Eddie cleared his throat to gather your attention, holding the sweater out for you. "Here, this should help you warm up," He smiled, careful not to bare his teeth. He didn't want to scare you off now. Only moments ago he simply wanted to bleed you dry, but now he found himself wanting to taste you, savor you, perhaps even keep you.

Oblivious, you took the garment from him with a smile, amazed at how soft it was. You thanked Eddie quietly before turning around to shed yourself of your dress, undoing the thin ribbons that secured it in the back before letting it slip gently down from your shoulders. You stepped out of the soaked piece carefully, thankful to your past self for choosing to wear tights and thin shorts beneath it, and as you pulled the cozy sweater over your head you delighted in the near immediate warmth that came with it. Shortly after, you gathered your dress from the floor and turned to face him.

"Thank you. Is there somewhere I can hang this to dry?" You asked.

Eddie tried to conceal his smirk as he answered you, "Well, I would say you could hang it on the clothesline, but..." He gestured toward the window which was concealed behind the thick drapes, but the sound of fat rain drops pattering against the glass was clear. "You should stay inside until the rain lets up, hm? I'd be happy to light the fireplace for you."

"I don't know... I should probably get back to the village in case the storm gets any worse," You spoke reluctantly, casting your gaze to the floor in disappointment, a move that was not lost on Eddie. "I might need to help cover the crops. I don't know what we'll do for the winter if our harvest is flooded."

Your disappointment communicated a couple of things to him-- one, you truly wanted to stay and spend time with him, and two, it was likely you'd be easy to convince to do just that. Of course he understood your plight, though he hadn't really considered the struggles of everyday, living, breathing people in a long time, but selfishly...

"Well, how many people live in your village, sweetheart?" He asked. You looked up at him, tilting your head quizzically. He chuckled, clarifying, "I don't get out much. I wouldn't know."

You had to think for a second-- you'd never really counted-- and when you landed on an estimate you were comfortable with, you obliged. "I don't know exactly... 45 or 50, maybe?"

Eddie hummed, crossing his arms casually. "That's a lot of hands. I'm sure they'll fare just fine without your help for a few hours, yeah?"

You pondered for a moment, just beginning to part your lips to accept his offer to stay for a while when another voice cut through the air, disapproving and materializing out of nowhere: "Eddie... What do you think you're doing?"

While you startled at the unexpected voice, jumping slightly where you stood, Eddie could only grin, turning slowly around to face the man in the doorway.

Only logical, you surmised this was the 'friend' Eddie had told you about earlier-- he was tall and athletic, square jaw and long lashes with fluffy brown hair that wisped over his face. The top two buttons of his white shirt were undone, revealing a thatch of dark hair over his strong chest. Your mouth dried-- the two of them were strikingly, devilishly handsome, especially together, and suddenly you felt your cheeks heating up with confusion over your own feelings and embarrassment for causing a problem.

Eddie's response cut your internal dialogue short. "Stevie! There you are," He greeted innocently. "Remember how you mentioned the garden looked like it was coming back to life? Well, I found the culprit," He joked, gesturing to you as he introduced you by name. Your face burned even hotter.

"...And you found the culprit wearing my shirt?" Steve asked.

You felt your heart sink into yourself. "I-I'm so sorry, I didn't know-" You stammered, but Eddie raised his palm to quiet you and spoke for you instead.

"Come on, Steve, look at her... Poor thing got soaked in the rain! Besides, doesn't she look adorable in yellow?"

Suddenly you felt hot for a different reason. You looked down to the floor to hide your face-- little did you know they could both hear your heart pounding. Still staring at the floor, you spoke up again, a little louder this time. "Um, I'm sorry for intruding... You can have your shirt back and I'll just go. I didn't mean to cause any problems."

As you looked up to make your way toward the door, you accidentally locked eyes with Eddie. An unexpected wave of calm washed over you, stopping you in your tracks.

"Nonsense, sweetheart," Eddie said. "You're not intruding at all."

Steve gave him a look that missed you completely, a look you wouldn't have been able to read anyway in your trance-like state. You couldn't really manage to speak, let alone interpret the silent communication between two men who were obviously so close with each other that the most subtle physical cues could speak a thousand words.

Eddie put a hand on your shoulder. It was cold.

He smiled at you confidently. "Would you mind giving us the room for a moment, doll?"

Your feet were carrying you to the door before his words even fully sank in. Your gaze lingered on Steve for just a moment as you passed by him on your way out-- he was intently watching you go, arms crossed as he leaned against the door frame. You weren't sure how to feel about that.

Plopping down to sit at the top of the staircase, you tugged at the sleeves of the yellow sweater and wondered what kind of conversation they were having. It was overtly obvious Steve didn't want you there, but Eddie seemed quite sure of his ability to change Steve's mind. Having just met him less than an hour ago, you didn't know him well enough to trust his judgment on that.

A tall grandfather clock ticked rhythmically down the hall, echoing each passing second. You picked idly at your tights just to pass the time, hoping Eddie's offer to light the fireplace for you would still be in the question, should Steve decide you could stay. You could faintly hear the timbre of their voices muted by the thick wooden door, but you couldn't make out what was being said or even discern the emotion behind it. All you could do was sit there, practicing your patience. Part of you wondered if you should just leave the sweater in your place and go, if it weren't for the fact your dress was still in the bedroom and you had no idea where Eddie put your umbrella.

You were too absorbed in your thoughts to notice the hallway had quieted. Apparently you were also too absorbed in your thoughts to notice the sound of the bedroom door opening.

"You do look rather cute in that sweater," A voice startled you from behind. Clutching your chest, you turned to face the source of it, surprised to find Steve. He was noticeably calmer and offering you his hand to help you up. "I might just have to let you keep it."

Shocked, you blushed as you took his hand, rising gently from where you sat. His hand was cold too. "T-Thanks," You stuttered. "I'm sorry if I caused any problems-"

"You didn't," He cut you off with a warm smile. "I promise. The apology is mine-- I'm sorry for coming off the way I did. You didn't do anything wrong."

"There you go, Stevie," Eddie chimed in from the bedroom doorway. You were beginning to sense a pattern that they had a unique ability to sneak up on you. "See? I knew you could play nice."

Steve shook his head, giving you an exasperated look that communicated quite well to you that Eddie was no stranger to successful persuasion such as this. "Let's get that fireplace lit, shall we?"

Guiding you down the stairs by your hand, Eddie trailing close behind, Steve led you to the parlor and encouraged you to make yourself comfortable as he knelt before the fireplace, stacking nearby logs of firewood into the soot-stained enclosure. Eddie was quick to replace Steve's hand with his own, leading you over to the couch. He offered to brew some tea for you, which you eagerly accepted, and as he made his way to the kitchen you found yourself sinking into the soft couch and watching Steve turn the gas valve at the bottom of the fireplace, striking a match to set the lumber alight at last.

Steve sat on the couch to your left, leaned coolly against the arm. The light from the fire cast a flickering orange glow over his handsome features.

He asked you about how you'd found yourself here, what measures you'd taken to revive the garden and what your village was like. He seemed hesitant to tell you much about his own past, other than that he came from a family in the city that he wasn't particularly close with. You let it slide, figuring there was much more to it than that, and you didn't feel comfortable prying.

Soon Eddie returned with a hot cup of tea, cautioning you to be careful of its temperature before he handed it off to you. You hadn't asked what kind it was, but it smelled delightfully earthy and herbal and a little bit minty, sure to chase the chill from your bones. You thanked him with a polite smile as he sat on the couch to your right, cradling the warm porcelain in your hands.

The three of you continued to chat, learning more about each other as you all became comfortable and opened up a bit. You learned that Eddie plays guitar-- he promised to show you sometime. You learned that Steve used to be an incredible athlete. You learned that the two of them met in school, that they hated each other at first, but have since been inseparable for a longer period of time than either of them could recall. You told them about your family, about your aptitude for horticulture. You promised to teach them how to care for their plants.

The conversation came to a comfortable break, the parlor draped in silence other than the pleasant sound of wood crackling in the fireplace. You were a sip or two away from finishing your tea when Steve leaned forward, tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear as he asked, "Do you believe in the supernatural?"

It was an odd question that seemed to come out of nowhere. You nodded slightly. "I mean... yeah. Living in the woods for so long, I know quite well that there are many things on this Earth that nature couldn't possibly explain." You quietly sipped your tea.

"Does it scare you?" Eddie smirked, planting a cool hand on your knee. Suddenly you were feeling nervous under the pressure of their attention. You finished the last of your tea, leaning forward to set your empty mug on the coffee table.

"Not really," You replied, eyes focused on the fire. "Everything in nature requires a balance. Light and dark, hot and cold..."

"Predator and prey?" Eddie added.

You tensed a little bit, nodding. "Sure, that's a great example. It's all Gaia's will."

"Even if you were the prey?" Steve asked.

"Y-Yeah, I mean, of course," You hummed, wishing now that you hadn't finished your tea so fast. You needed something to fidget with. "It's all Gaia's will," You repeated.

Eddie's hand repositioned from your knee to your thigh so smoothly that you almost hadn't noticed. "Hmm... What about pain and pleasure?"

Steve's yellow sweater was beginning to feel rather hot on your body. Your breath hitched in your throat. "Absolutely," You answered innocently, although your voice shook. "It all contributes to a delicate balance."

You weren't stupid. You knew where they were going with this... or at least you thought you did. Oddly enough, as you'd answered just moments before, you weren't scared.

Maybe if you'd really known what you were in for, you would have been.

#stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie x reader #steddie x you #steve harrington x reader #eddie munson x reader #venustext #vampire steddie #vampire steve harrington #vampire eddie munson #sintext

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writingquestionsanswered · 5 months

Note

Do you have any advice for someone who's making a world that's like the real world, but isn't? I'm making a fantasy setting where one of the worlds are more or less no different from the real world, but it's origin and events are different.

I think I'll have to come up with new countries to represent actual ones, but lots of foods and animal breeds are named after real places; so I'm kind of stumbling.

Basing a Fictional World Off Our World

Things with Location-Specific Names

Here's the thing... with very few exceptions, most things that have location specific things are just one variety of a much bigger group of things. For example, Javan kingfishers are just a type of kingfisher. Cheddar cheese is just a type of semi-hard cheese. So, if you find yourself wanting to include a food, animal breed, or anything else named after a real place, ask why you need to be that specific and why you can't be more general. Why say Javan kingfisher when you can just say kingfisher? (Or even use a location from your story instead?) Why say Merlot when you could just say red wine? (Or, again, use a location from your story instead?) Sometimes, you may come across something that isn't a cultivar, breed, or type where the location can be dropped. For example, if you drop the "Brussels" from "Brussels sprouts," you just get "sprouts" which isn't the same thing. In a case like this, you can look for alternative names, play off of the scientific name, or just come up with a whole new name. If there's a place called Belya in your story, why not call them Belya sprouts? Then, take the opportunity to describe them as looking like miniature cabbages.

Links for World Building: Guide: Naming Locations (Like Towns and Cities) Five Things to Help You Describe Fictional Locations Naming Countries, Regions, Continents, or Planets Figuring Out Your World’s Geography Writing a Fantasy without Building a Whole World Coming Up with Fictional World Details Using an Existing Country as Inspiration Incorporating Cultural Elements into Fantasy Setting Your Story in an Unfamiliar Place

Happy writing!

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mx-lamour · 2 months

Text

Costuming Strahd: Art Addendum

I didn't include any mention of the official Dungeons & Dragons art for Strahd von Zarovich in my previous post, because I had dismissed it outright. There, I said it.

I shall strive to amend my folly in this addendum.

Let's start with that 5e cover:

I generally approve of this representation. No doubt it colored my concept of Strahd's silhouette, since this is the first image of Strahd I came into contact with, some two or three years ago.

The shape of this garb is much like what I was aiming for in my previous post. Strahd is sporting a crisp shirt with stiffened, buttoned cuffs, much like our modern button-downs or blouses spanning back into the mid-1800s. His torso is trim in a fitted vest with standing collar, which easily fits into the category of fantasy-Renaissance. Speculation on from where/when exactly the inspiration comes might be a futile effort; it would find itself at home among the elves in The Lord of the Rings, and I'm not about to dig into that concept work just now.

Actually, what his vest reminds me of most is 15th century brigandine [or tabard (see below), which would cover brigandine or a breastplate, which is why] it's the right length, if nothing else.

Reconstructing History, He's literally Elrond, and some brigandine

I believe I said it's easy to fake good pants, especially when sitting down. This example reinforces my point. His legs are indeed covered, and the result is not garish. Not particularly exciting, but nonetheless successful. You could probably even call them hose if you really wanted to.

His boots are literal extant riding boots, from "early 20th c." England, and honestly I'm so proud of this one-to-one reference.

[Fig. 1] and [Fig. 2], although my first thought had been Victorian cycling boots.

The cape draped around his shoulders appears to be quite thin and probably only falls to about his fingertips, since it doesn't drape over the chair cushion and he's not sitting on it. It could look like some kind of military cape. Or maybe even, to drag him back a few centuries again, something Elizabethan.

I'll do a whole thing on capes later.

Moving on...

Early Strahd von Zarovich was definitely Dracula by another name, but later art has been pretty consistently (from what I can see) this other red/blue outfit, with baffling ruby clasps instead of a single pendant around his neck.

That last one has me. To be fair, it's the only one gazing back at the observer... >.>

Look. This garb is sexy. It cannot be understated. While it's not what I'm going for in my own costume foray, this is a fantastic design. Here's why:

The line where blue meets red along his ribcage accentuates his chest. That same red draws the eye down over his crotch, subtly curving to accomodate his thighs. Those chains on his cloak and the sash around his waist are positively drippy, like the source of the Ivlis pouring down to the Tser Pool. The asymmetry of that and his mismatched shoulders gives him such a dynamic slant, something to visually climb back up like handholds on the face of a cliff. And the sash is supple, in direct contrast to his armored hips, solid and stalwart. His limbs are clad in slim nondescript brown, making it all the easier to focus in on his center, in high contrast dotted with solid rubies. The red and blue both, especially together, are blood colors, indicative of veins hidden beneath the skin.

He might be covered from toe to jaw, but this is an intimate costume.

Despite my appreciation for it, though, again, I personally am trying to make something a little less Lord of the Rings. For reasons.

So, let's see what I can come up with in terms of historical inspiration... if anything, lol.

This is going to be fairly stream-of-consciousness. (Not that it wasn't already, I suppose.)

The first thing that came to mind was a kaftan (or zupan?), because they can be fitted through the torso and feature a standing collar and embellished closures up the front. But, kaftans from Russia, the Ottoman Empire, and other areas touched by those cultures usually also have sleeves. I finally found the two illustrations below without sleeves, but they were difficult to track down and I'm not sure how much of what they depict is imaginary. (Although the sword, pouch, and helmet from the first one are definitely from an extant burial site.)

There's also the Polish kontusz, where the arms can be worn out of the sleeves, with the sleeves flipped back, and that can give the illusion of sleevelessness... A lot of examples I found of this particular garment are also open to the waist, which is delightfully provocative, but doesn't resemble the Strahd ensemble.

Examples from Chernigov (Ukraine) and apparently Moldova; a Polish kontusz

I can think of little source material for that long, pointed fantasy hemline, but allow me to grasp at some straws.

The straws in question.

Actually, this brings up a really good point of inquiry. Where does this drapery-between-the-legs situation that modern fantasy seems to be so enamoured with come from?

Tabards would seem the obious answer, but even that, in modern parlance, is used as an umbrella term for a wide range of garments that may or may not have any true basis in reality.

There's also just... loin cloths, I suppose, which can look like a piece of fabric just draped over the crotch and hanging between the legs, but there's usually more to it than that.

At last, after some digging around, I came across the video below. Bless Shad for his contribution to society.

It goes over all the the differences between those various styles of garment usually bearing symbols of allegiance all lumped together as "tabards", and presented me one more vocabulary word with which I was not yet familiar: the scapular.

youtube

Alas, monastic garb is my blind spot. Silly that I've played at least five clerics so far.

To summarize, I think the that the shape of the lower part of Strahd's... whatever-it-is... is inspired by a mix of these garments described in the video. It's short like a tabard should be, and has that dip between the legs reminiscent of a scapular.

But, ultimately, this thing is a waistcoat. Not a waistcoat in the Victorian sense; a waistcoat in the mid-18th century sense.

Monk wearing a scapular, and some fancy waistcoats.

Finally, the very-high standing collar on Strahd's waistcoat smacks of a couple things: Russia (again), or the Regency era. Although, in the Regency years, waistcoats became much shorter (ending at the waist) and lengthened up the other way with high standing collars. But, if you were to combine the two waistcoats above and throw in some suggestive high-hip cutouts like a 1980's leotard, you might come out with something that resembles what Strahd is wearing in all that sumtuous art.

The one with the sash really drives the comparison home.

With the initial kaftan comparison and this guy with the funny hair (a Count Vasili, coincidentally) above, Strahd von Zarovich's red/blue fantasy garb is also giving the Motherland, and folks, I already said that I was trying to keep blatant Russia out of Barovia (as much as that garb clearly slaps). But I also recently remembered due to this post that I am a total sucker for Russian pet names, so... who knows.

In the end... do I know what I'm doing? Absolutely not. I'm not sure which of these elements will filter into further consideration for my own Strahd von Zarovich costume, but I'm definitely glad I gave all this a look. Absolutely worth it. Learned a lot. ♡

#costume things #costuming barovia #strahd von zarovich #costume design #fashion history #costume history #curse of strahd #lamour dms cos #art analysis #art appreciation #ravenloft

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parental-unit-of-chaos · 1 year

Text

Lines drawn in Charcoal : Jason Todd x Male Reader.

This will be the frist writing I've ever posted online, so I hope at least some one enjoys this. @n0cturna1-m3 here ya go!

Cw: mentions of scars, childhood truama, past truama in general, body image issues and self image issues.

Living in a safehouse with Jason has a roommate had it's ups and downs, no matter how many years you've know Jason. It was no secret he had been through a lot, only a small drop of that pain he's shared. Most he keeps in his head, if to remind himself he is still alive or to torture himself to stay in control. You were never sure.

That's what made scenes like this sobering, reminding you that he's still the sweet Jason under all the walls he built up. The Jason that no matter how much he tries to hide it, to cage it, he has a heart bigger than himself. This morning, Jason choose to spend in his favorite reading spot. Slumped in the red padded chair that caught his eye, while walking past the antique store. The thought of leaving the chair or even moving an inch, melted away has soon has your fluff ball decided to join him.

The cat had falling asleep purring hours ago; Jason's attention was only focused on the book that he was half way through. And where were you? You were sat on the couch with your sketchbook and charcoal pencils, capturing each soft and rough line of the handsome man.

Making sure to get every detail and proportion right; his sharp jawline, the soft lines of his lips, his brows knitted in concentration. More importantly how relaxed he was, where he wasn't on edge and paranoid. That the next corner he turns someone will be someone with a gun pointing at him, or worse, someone he cares about.

During one of the times you were looking down at your sketchbook, Jason finally pulled out of the fantasy world he was so engrossed in. Probably from the not so subtle sound of the pencils dragging in short or long strokes on the paper.

' Whatcha drawing now?' he inquired, with his own hypothesis that you were drawing the fluffy croissant in his lap. 'Just my world' you replied causing a sign to leave Jason's lungs at how cryptic the answer was. Sure it still could very well still be the cat, you drew the little whiskered demon everytime she was still. With the vague answer though, it could be a sketch of the city, to your favorite food.

' Ya gonna give me any hints or am I gonna have to geuss on my own?', Jason knew you loved when people tried to geuss what you were drawing. He also loved the weird ass guinea pig like noise that came from your throat, when someone didn't geuss correctly. 'the sketch is of a living thing' now you were intentionally being vague to draw out the game.

' Let me geuss, is it the ball of fluff in my lap? That for some reason, you took one look at, and named spleens??', Jason interrogates with a humored toned. The unique chuckle coming from your vocal cords, was he needed to hear to know he was wrong. 'for the record I explained why I named her spleens, when I first brought her home with me. And Nope! It's a human, a handsome and strong one at that'.

Handsome and strong? Jason had to think harder with that answer; my world, handsome and strong. Was it a trick answer and you were referring to poetry? 'Atlas??', he replied, perplexed. His answer was met with more of a laugh this time, he assumed he got too far away from the answer. You laughing frustrated him,' Fine, enough of the game. I give up, who are drawing?'. He didn't care about winning anymore, just wanting to know the answer.

' It's you', the answer and smile you gave was so simply, but it cut through Jason deeper and with more weight than of of the League of assassins' blades ever could. Him? Your world? Handsome and strong? Jason couldn't see where you were coming from, or more so his insecurities wouldn't allow him too.

This had to of been a sarcastic answer and you actually drew someone else, it has to be. He's seen himself in the mirror, he knows he's not anything but disgusting. He's not handsome, his body looks like a living corpse, all the damn scars that covered his body. The walls felt like they were closing in, there was ringing in his ears. His image, his face, his body changing in the mirror being distorted. Taunting him, proving that no matter how much he tries to move on from what joker did to him, he'll never be anything more than what Joker made him. The memories of his biological father screaming about how much hates him, Batman -

' Jason!', your worried voice and your gentle hands touching his face, with the other on his arm brought him back to the present. He hadn't realized he had been shaking or the panic that exploded out of his chest. 'Breathe, you're going to past out if you don't. Focus on me, follow my pace of breathing.', he did has you said syncing his breathe with yours.

Once Jason finally calmed down fully you asked why he just had a panic attack, 'You don't have to share all of it, you can just give me the cliff notes'. He doesn't know what he did to deserve someone so understanding. 'When you said those things about me, my thoughts got the better of me. Reminding why I can't be any of those things', he stated still a little shakey.

'Do you want to see what I see you had?', he was hesitant, no he was scared to see it, but your voice sounded so reassuring. He trusted you,' If you think it would help, then yes', you gave him the finished sketch. His mind didn't allow him to believe fully that someone could see him like this, he looked normal, he looked so happy. You held his hand and flinched, like he was still on fight or flight.

'When I see you, I don't see you has your trauma or a victim. I see you has a survivor. You aren't who you are, because of joker or anyone else. You made yourself who you are, despite what happened to you.', you took a breathe giving that chance to look him in the eye.

'I read somewhere that in some Asian cultures, when a plate breaks they mend it back together with gold.', Jason felt like he couldn't breathe, he didn't know what to say. 'You aren't something that needs to be fixed has if you were brand new, that's not how truama works. But if let me, can I help mend those wounds with gold? To help build you back up?' Jason couldn't stop the tears that welded up and fell down his face. He pulled into the strongest hug he could muster, he never knew he need to hear those words, until you said them.

You let him cry has long has needed, he's been holding those emotions in for so long. He finally answers the question in a shaky voice, so small you almost didn't hear it.

'yes'

#i am sorry in advance #jason todd #jason todd x gender neutral reader #jason todd x male reader #hurt/comfort #Crow!Writes

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agirlwholovesrockstars · 4 months

Text

𝖄𝖔𝖚 𝖒𝖆𝖐𝖊 𝖒𝖊 𝖋𝖊𝖊𝖑 𝖇𝖗𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖓𝖊𝖜 • ᴘʀᴏʟᴏɢᴜᴇ

彡 𝓼𝓮𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓼 𝓶𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽 彡

✦ 𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚜𝚝 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 ✦

𝕾𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖞 : the people who appear kind to you will betray you

𝖂𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝕮𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙 : very simple as possible

𝖂𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘 : 18+ Knight!Eddie Munson x FEM!Princess reader, language, use of y/n, Henry is (30+), Jason Carver (yeah- his name alone is a warning) reader and Eddie are both (21), lost prince 👀, exile, frame up, mentions of loved one missing, false accusations, amnesia, arrange marriage, mUrder, manipulation, age gap

𝖂𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝖙𝖔 𝕰𝖝𝖕𝖊𝖈𝖙 : set in 17th century but upside down and Hawkins exists just imagine it's in old timey set up, dark fantasy, angst and drama, I apologize in advance :((

𝕹𝖔𝖙𝖊 𝕿𝖔 𝕽𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗 : I can't contain my excitement for this upcoming series! I really hope you'll enjoy reading! 🥺🫶🏻✨

𝕬𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗 𝕹𝖔𝖙𝖊 : if you haven't listen at the song below, I really suggest to listen it with lyrics because the whole idea of this series is about the song! :))💗

☆ EDDIE MUNSON'S MASTERLIST ☆

❣ SARAH'S MAIN PAGE ❣

𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔓𝔯𝔬𝔩𝔬𝔤𝔲𝔢

The kingdom is filled with joy and laughter, the palace is always cheerful

Your father, Jim, is one of the most respectable and beloved royalty, he fought many dangerous wars and despite the violence and the blood spilled, he still continues to be the caring and thoughtful King

From another part of your village, the small family that you adored so much, your father's most trusted advisor, The Munson Family

Wayne is almost like the substitute when your father is not around except for being strict in other situations

He is so fun and also the wisest person, you ever knew and there goes his nephew, Edward, which will soon to become a prince

One of the skilled knights in your father's army, is the king's general, Enzo

You always wanted to be like this, you wished that no one will ever destroy your precious home

After your 18th birthday, your dad has another duty to fulfill that he needs to attend

"You sure, you don't want anything?" He says as he climbs up on his horse

"All I wanted is for you to come home, father" you say as you handled his silver helmet to him with a worrisome expression on your face

He holds your cheeks "We'll be okay"

You exhaled as you nod to him weakly

He gave you a small smile as you watch him rode his horse away

Wayne arrived at your palace, disheartened you could see the horror from his face

His hair is disheveled and his boots are covered with mud

He fell down on the floor as you ran up to him kneeling down on the process

"W-Wayne? What happened?"

He's crying and he can't even talk straight

"S-Someone took my nephew- someone s-stole him!" He sobbed as he holds onto you

Your eyes welled with tears at his remark

You knew that boy, he's the sweetest, you hardly talk to each other since he has other responsibilities from his place

The doors from your palace bang with a loud opening as the bunch of guards circling the both of you

Your face turned into confusion as you looked at all of them

"Y/N- stay away from that man!" One of the guards announced as they forced to pull you away from him

"W-What? No!" You scream as you tried to reach for his hands but it was no use

"What are you doing! What is the meaning of this? Let me go! As your princess, I demand to know what's going on!" You tried to yank the grip on your forearms as you point one of the guards

"They've been practicing black magic at the town, your majesty"

The same ridiculed expression you both matched with Wayne as you looked at each other

"That's nonsense!"

For the first time in your life, you feel like no one is listening to you like, you feel useless, as they tried to drag you away from Wayne

"You shouldn't arrest him! His nephew- Edward is missing!" You shouted out loud but it seems like whatever you do, they won't follow you

You feel weak and small as you sobbed quietly

"Where's father? Where's Enzo?" You whisper to yourself as you watch Wayne put his hands behind his back as they tied it

They push you from your bedroom as you heard them lock it

You couldn't sleep, you wonder what is going on with Wayne, he is sure locked in the dungeon

For a while, you dozed off

A sudden soft nudge from your forearms, you slowly open your eyes and there you see your father right in front of you

"Father? Am I dreaming?" You happily say as you wrap your arms around him

"My dear daughter, how I missed you so" he hugs you tenderly

"Wayne, they locked him up a-and I don't understand- and Edward- he's- he's missing!" You immediately say as you tried to look on his eyes for answers

"What?!"

"And Enzo- are you with him?"

"Yes, I am, listen, whatever you do, don't trust anyone asides from us" he looked at you with a pointed look

He takes one last look at you as you hold him

"Father! Please- don't leave!" You beg as you block his way

"I have to do this, Y/N"

"I want you to stay"

"Remember what you taught you to do, keep listening to your guts and your instincts"

"Please- tell me what's going on!"

He hugs you as you let another bucket of tears went down from your eyes, he kisses the top of your head

"You'll be a great princess, someday"

Your eyes went wide at his words as he let go of you as he disappeared in the night

You're left with confusion and fear

One year later after the haunting night happened

It's your 19th birthday and ever since that night, the palace walls are like watching you, you don't feel safe and it almost like a

Fever Dream

There is one however, saved you from the depths of hardship on that eventful evening

His name is Henry, he's tall, slim, blonde hair with blue eyes, has a record of achievements and comes from a wealthy family

He definitely looks older than you, but you can't help but question his kindness towards you

Jason, his presence alone, will always make you feel uncomfortable, he's a knight but an asshole

You always remind yourself from the words of your own father

"Listen, whatever you do, don't trust anyone"

The night couldn't even be more traumatic when a red light cracks the ground, a long branch of vines and screeching creatures came out of it

Your once peaceful Hawkins is now connected in the another dimension

You watch the grotesque happenings from your balcony as your knees wobble from the excruciating pain and wailing from your people

Unbeknownst to you, without your knowledge, Jason exiles Enzo from the palace and Wayne is locked up in prison for a lifetime

The sky is not the same anyone, it's dark and red thunderstorms everywhere

You still have no news about your father

Henry may be gentle around you but deep down you know his intentions are not always right

One of your people are dying with hunger, the meals that you're supposed to eat, you will give it to them instead

"Henry, my people are suffering"

"Your highness, you should not leave your room" Henry softly speaks at you

"I'm tired of you bossing me around"

"Well, maybe- you should be grateful who saved you before" Jason spats as he glares at you

And that's where you became silent

It's not your fault to be helpless at that night, but you did your every best to be the princess that everyone needed

His words may affect you but you won't let him get into you

You rebelled against the palace guards, fought with them and he only came into the picture when you're sucked down in debt

Almost penniless

You wonder where it all goes after he handled it

Henry made a declaration that it's forbidden and life-threatening to interact with the other side

Sure, the monsters are in it are terrifying, but how about the people that are left with that part of the world?

How did they survive? How are they're still alive in a place like that?

You have so many questions that some of your own palace maids won't give you answers and even, Henry

While walking around the hallway, you saw your father's study door is slightly open

That room is always locked and no one else is allowed to be inside, unless, your father personally asked to accompany to be with him

You heard two familiar voices, it's Henry and Jason

"Hawkins is going to fall soon"

"She'll grow on me, it'll take time"

"It will be a disaster- if she doesn't marry you"

Your cupped your mouth, you feel light-headed

"Why would you wait? When you could force her"

"Look, Jason, she's already afraid of me, I don't want her to feel unsure of me"

He scoffed "So- what are you going to do then?"

"I want her to trust me, I just haven't earned that yet"

"That's a waste of fucking time, Henry"

"You can't make me do that!"

"She has no choice! I know- she'll do anything to save her people even she doesn't want to do this"

Henry sighs in exasperation

"You're the only hope that she'll ever have"

The last words of Jason will make your skin crawl

"Marry her or I'll kill her myself"

The vase from your behind knocked over as it smashes on the floor

The two men went outside as they saw you there like a deer caught in the headlights

Henry eyeing you in concern while Jason menacingly looks at you like you're unworthy

"You know, you should feel lucky that someone is willing to marry you"

Your eyes are glassy as your heart suffocated at the intense fear that is building up

You ran away from them as you went outside of the palace

You heard, Jason calling the guards to lock you up in the dungeon

You quicken your pace as you tried to hide to catch up with your breath

One of the townspeople saw you

"You'll going away, miss?"

You nod hesitantly

"I just- can't leave the town like this- I can't go away when- but I also want answers- I feel like I'm in hell" you choked up in your own tears

"We hear you, princess, we understand"

You stare and for a moment- you almost lost your faith

"We'll cover you, now, go"

"Thank you"

"We can't keep up, sire- I think we lost track of her"

"if you can't catch her then I'll make it easy for you"

"I command you to eliminate her"

Henry argues with Jason "No- you can't do that!"

"Ignore him" Jason dismissed Henry as he orders more guards to look out for you

You ran and ran as your feet can take you farther and further away

But, this is the part where it gets all risky

If you step closer to this world, you don't know what will happen to you

You placed your palms over your knees as your chest rise up and down

You heard the overlapping guards voices becoming more closer to where you are now

You saw the bow and arrow that is targeted to you

You can't hear anything, only your heartbeat, the sounds of branches of trees, the noise from the guard's uniform- it blurred out

Take the risk or live through hell

You went in and the arrow that is meant for you disintegrated into ashes

"We can't follow her there, it's against the rules"

"That's not our problem anymore, she's gonna die in there"

You watch the veiny portal to see if they'll continue to chase you

The screeches of the creatures got your attention

It almost like Hawkins but different, filled with vines and unusual air

One of the flying monsters tried to attack you as you ran again

You have your sword with you but you're too tired to fought them all off

They're so many and it seems like this is your fate, the creatures are circling around you, they're gaining on you

You run as fast as you could until you heard someone saying from afar

"Hey!"

Before you can look at the person that called you, you turned your heel around as you accidentally slipped and hit your head on the rocks

The mysterious man with a low bun jogged his way towards you as he looked down on you

Your head is bleeding and he didn't think twice to carry you

Who will rescue you now?

No present father, no advices, no guidance, no more friends around

Only, you can save yourself

Is this the man that you're father is referring to? To not to be trusted?

Or the ones that lives from your palace?

#Spotify #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fic #stranger things 4 #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie x fem!reader #i love eddie munson #eddie munson supremacy #eddie munson angst #agirwholovesrockstarsfics #eddie munson series

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bunnymajo · 1 year

Text

Went ahead just filled out that whole OC ask prompt for Quake the Elephant :P

Get to know her better! She'll be competing in the @sonic-oc-showdown going on right now!

You can vote here!

Name: Quake the Elephant

Species: Asian Elephant

Type: Power

Alignment: Good

Home: Sol Empire (wanders)

✨How did you come up with the OC’s name?

Since Blaze & Marine have very on-the-nose names based on their powers I wanted a similar kind of name for her. So I thought of a bunch of earth-related names that I thought were cute, Quake I was on the fence about but after talking with some friends (shout-out to the bumblekast server) who liked it I started warming up to it too.

🌼 - How old are they? (Or approximate age range)

Late teen/young adult. Older than Blaze

🌺- Do they have any love interest(s)?

Not currently.

🍕 - What is their favorite food?

Anything Lychee flavored. Tropical fruits are always a hit in general. Never eats meat.

💼 - What do they do for a living?

A traveling oracle, she can pick up vibes and premonitions from certain gemstones or rock formations. People seek out her help for advice or if there’s land that needs excavating

🎹 - Do they have any hobbies?

At her core Quake is just a big rock nerd. She likes learning and going to museums if there's any kind of exhibit about geology

Also all her jewelry is handmade so she's good at metal craft, all her rings are melted down ores & metals she's collected. There's a story behind each one.

🎯 -What do they do best?

Crush rocks. Look at rock. Know where rock came from.

🥊 -What do they love to do? What do they hate to do?

She loves to just sit and enjoy her surroundings, no drama, only sitting

She hates shopping for herself. She doesn’t mind it if it’s a gift, but clothes shopping for herself in particular she’s just really uncomfortable with the whole experience (look around, looking at sizes, trying them on, figuring out if she likes it enough to wear more than once, standing in line to buy it. etc. )

❤️ - What is one of your OC’s best memories?

I could be cheesy and say when she made friends with Blaze & Marine, but other than that she's always traveling she doesn't usually spend time with other people on her birthday or holidays - but one time a town she was staying at found out and threw her a small surprise party and she still cries when she thinks about it.

✂️ - What is one of your OC’s worst memories?

Sometimes picking up & and experiencing the memories of an old rock aren't always pretty. She doesn't like to talk about them.

🧊 - Is their current design the first one?

There’s a few initial sketches I did to get the overall idea going, but currently she’s on her 1st finalized design

🍀 - What originally inspired the OC?

I like powerhouse ladies and I like plus-sized representation in my favorite media, Blaze currently doesn’t have that in the Sol dimension so I took that as a challenge to see if I could make one. Sega also (currently) isn’t really keen on large mammal designs like elephants or horses, so I wanted to see if I could make a large hooved animal fit into the Sonic template.

🌂 - What genre do they belong in?

I picture her fitting right into a kung-fu movie, as either a wise mentor or the hero's traveling companion, or even a mini boss depending on the situation.

She would hope she fit right into a cozy slice of life drama or a hallmark movie though, but she has too much of a fantasy character presence

💚 - What is your OC’s gender identity and sexuality?

Identifies as a girl, she/her/they pronouns, Ace Lesbian

🙌 - How many siblings does your OC have?

Currently 0. She views Marine as what it would be like to have a little sister though.

🍎 - What is the OC’s relationship w/their parents like?

Parents? In Sonic’s world? Ha!

Her oracle powers can be traced through her lineage though. I imagine she would view them with respect.

🧠 - What do you like most about the OC?

She’s cute and she can punch a rock in half

I also just like gentle giant characters. She's oc comfort food.

✏️ - How often do you draw/write about the OC?

Not as much as I should but I really want to change that, I think there’s so much potential to explore Blaze’s world and it’s just sitting there.

💎 - Do you ever see yourself killing off the OC?

Absolutely not. Even if there was a dire situation where death seems like the only way out, I’ve seen enough magical girl baloney to know there’s always another way. Blaze & Marine would snap her out of that “I have to end myself here to save everyone” mentality, but that's the only kind of scenario where I'd even think about that.

💀 - Does your OC have any phobias?

Claustrophobia, including feeling closed in by big crowds

🍩 -Who is your OC’s arch-nemesis or rival?

In a playful manner, Blaze as a rival.

🎓 - How long have you had the OC?

About 5 months :’D

Thanks for reading!

#quake the elephant #my ocs #sonic oc

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axl-ul · 10 months

Text

Writeblr (Re)Introduction

Hello! After some time of being inactive, here's a small reintroduction from me:) And I also guess that this is the exact aesthetic I aimed for. Finally!

General info:

(Nick)Name: Axl-ul, but you can address me as Axl^^

Likes: Writing, reading, drawing, crochet, mythologies and folk stories, tea, doggos, cattos, battos (majority of animals that are fluffy)

Stuff I like to listen to: an ENORMOUS range that goes from og dubstep to chillstep to metal to edgy yeehaw dark country (among my fave artists are Bonobo, Nujabes, Burial, Hugo Kant, Sigmun)

Favourite movie: Noroi, The Vanished Empire

Favourite show: Mononoke (2009) it's actually an anime and yes I do consider it a show, Red Dwarf

Favourite book(s): The Witcher saga (Season of Storms was a little bit mid in comparison to the rest, still enjoyed it though), Solomon Kane, The Hobbit, Whiskey, Blood and Silver, The Warlock, Journey to the West (still reading it)

Favourite manga: anything by Junji Ito, Berserk

Favourite games: The Witcher trilogy, DreadOut, Condemned: Criminal Origin, TES V: Skyrim (also slowly getting into Oblivion), Sleeping Dogs, Darkwood, anything made by Fromsoftware (a fanboy)

Favourite genres: horror, mystery, (dark) fantasy, comedy

Favourite tropes: animal companion, found family, rivals to best friends

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Writer info:

Genres I write in: horror, mystery, dark fantasy inspired by world mythologies, dark comedy, my wips might have a touch of detective stories to them, too^^

Tropes I use(d): found family, animal companion, rivals to best friends, rivals to friends to lovers (used only once as I don't like romance that much, why it appears in my wips is a looong story), orphaned MC

POV: 3rd person, multiple POVs with main focus on 1 to 3 characters max

I tend to write in quite a flowery language and in poetic prose, but since English isn't my first language it can come across slightly awkward (TL; DR I do plenty of updates and edits to my posted stuff)

My wips are inspired and sometimes directly refer to a certain mythology, such as Slavic (this one is also most widely used as I like to read local legends of Serbia, Russia, the Czech and Slovak Republic, Ukraine, Poland and so on), Chinese, Nordic, Japanese and Indonesian. HOWEVER I love to create my own mythos and so the world is a blend of characters directly based of a mythological figure exploring environement both familiar and completely new to them. (I've always been intruiged by a question what would happen if world mythologies bumped into each other and what would be the consequences of it.)

My own mythos are pretty much eldritch-like oriented with a significant touch of folk horror. I'm not going to lie, I'm a FromSoftware fanboi, I see Bloodborn or Kuon, I'm going feral and so is my inspiration.

There are many occuring themes about substance abuse, addiction, health issues, gore, extreme violence, sexual assault/rape and other strongly 18+ stuff, so I'd appreciate if only 20+ y.o. people (or be at least 18, really) follow this account. In other words - PLENTY OF NSFW THAT'S NOT DIRECTED AND INTENDED FOR MINORS.

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WIPs

Not all from my wips have a proper introduction (a.k.a. there's no link for their Tumblr WIP intro). BUT I do plan on doing them, so expect the links to be updated. These are just quick summaries of them.

The Flight of the Western Crane - A dark retelling of Journey to the West where Sun Wukong tries to protect the young Buddhist monk Tang Sanzang while meeting a duo of a stranded Princess of the Great Tiger Kingdom and her foreign advisor Lady Wolf Witch. Their common journey starts out as an innocent one. However, it soon evolves into a dangerous chase where the Monkey King must face the worst of his opponents.

City of False Gods - Hybrid of wuxia, mystery and film noir genres set on a fabricated island near Hong Kong. The fiction evolves around the Monkey King who's, after his yet another imprisonment, woken up to a strange world of 1920s where his powers are under a radar by the local supernatural cop unit and is forced to live among the poorest while trying to solve strange happenings in the city. City of False Gods also serves as a sequel to The Flight of the Western Crane.

Empire of Dust - Historical dark fantasy with horror elements set in 330 Constantinople. The story follows two little sisters one of whom is considered neither dead nor alive. One day, Ulfrika sets out for a strange task in order to provide for her dear little sister. Her pure-hearted intention, though, may lead her down the rabbit hole which may devour her sanity.

Ratpeople - An outline idea for a standalone story involving Ulfrika and her time in the Wild West, where the soulless hybrid discovers an eerie town in the desert while chasing after a man who stole one of her horses. The story is related to weird western (mostly its horror and fantasy elements and no sci-fi stuff) and mystery genres and also mythology related things.

Boy Who Chased a Dragon - Another outline story outside the universe of The Legends of No-man's Land. The story takes place on an island of eternal summer and flower bloom, where mythical creatures live peacefully. One day, Dado* loses his pet dragon, a creature his sister gave him for his 8th birthday, in a harsh storm. Now, he sets out for a long journey to retrieve his best friend from the claws of the cruel Ember King.

*because this is still in a process of an outline/1st draft, I'm still not sure about the name, it's only a working name for the protagonist

#writeblr #writeblr community #writers of tumblr #writers on tumblr #writing community #writeblr introduction #writeblr intro #writeblr reintro #writeblr reintroduction

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mdhwrites · 10 months

Note

Do you agree with the idea that Luz is a people pleaser? Or is it just something the fandom made up to make her seem more likable/relateble/interesting with no real basis in canon?

GOD NO! But that's not necessarily a bad thing as the protagonist archtype she's hailing from normally isn't. The problem comes from the fact that she is so ANTI people pleasing that it clashes with her backstory, rare moments in the show and she also just NEVER LEARNS ANYTHING.

This is also a problem for Randy Cunningham: Ninth Grade Ninja. Him and his best friend make a declaration at the start of the year to be popular. They don't care if they're liked or disliked, the goal is for EVERYONE to know their name. This fuels a bunch of teenage shenanigans that are meant to impress people or make them look cool by the definitions they have in their brains rather than what reality is.

Cookie from Ned's Declassified did stuff like this a lot, Danny and Tucker from Danny Phantom are also prime examples of it. It is just a teenage protagonist archtype for them to be trying to live out a fantasy of being special when the reality is that they're just nice nerds who should be happy being who they are. This is Luz. Period.

And there's two sides of this archtype. The first is the FIRST THING WE KNOW ABOUT HER. They will do things to stand out from a crowd because they think it's cool regardless of if it's right. We are literally shown FOUR instances of this back to back from her book report to the montage of her fuck ups. Each time, she is actively looking at what others are doing and going "Nah. Hold my beer and watch this." I mean... She brought fucking SPIDERS to school and looked at best confused as to why everyone ran off screaming and that's not talking about the play she RUINED.

This is then reinforced in Episode 2 when she tells King and Eda to go suck eggs because she is totes a chosen one. She does save them at the end which brings the other half of this archtype when it comes to their fuck ups. When they fuck up, they fix it, commonly so as to not get people killed but also to make sure that either people in general or those closest to them don't HATE THEM. Now, that might sound like a people pleaser... But it's not. It's seeking forgiveness, not permission. I mean in S1 alone you have her explicitly ignoring Willow's wishes in both Understanding Willow and Wing it Like Witches so that she can have her fun before then someone gets hurt or upset and fixing it in someway.

As a note: The moment you realize that SO MUCH of Luz's character is motivated by tropes she likes or be special, a lot of actions she takes take on way worse connotations. A perfect example of this is when she declares in Lost in Language that she'll be friends with Amity come hell or high water... A minute later she's fucking around with Amity's siblings who Amity has shown clear disdain for. Or you can go with Adventure in the Elements where despite her trying to get along with Amity and impress her, she STEALS FROM HER so that she can get the instant gratification of casting magic. And this sort of recontextualization is ALL over the first season especially of Luz just doing bat shit crazy things because it lets her be cool and she never really learns to stop, even PROUDLY stating in Reaching Out that she'll always choose the option that leads to the most chaos. The most adventure, the most tropes. A season and a half in and instead of growing at all, she is still defiantly against reality.

This is also all inherently AGAINST being a people pleaser. A people pleaser wants everyone to LIKE them. Sprig spends half an episode being a people pleaser like this, even if I don't think it's quite who he is. What Luz is after is just to make sure people don't hate her. At best, she doesn't want people to actively dislike her but she mostly cares about if you remember her name. If she left an impression bigger than anyone else.

But I don't blame the fandom for making her a people pleaser. All of what I've said is based on her actions. By her words, she's meant to be someone who has had to hold back who she is. Who has hid from the world so as to be liked by society. Being a people pleaser IS a part of that archtype and that's where we get "Oh no teenagers" and "I'm gonna get made fun of again" and... That's about it. It's actually why those lines annoy me so much because they happen over a season into the show and she has NEVER held back on who she is for even half a second during that ENTIRE TIME. Even Adventure in Elements isn't about pleasing others, it's about not being embarrassed. Being brought low.

But those are literally the ONLY moments in the entire series where she gives a fuck. The Collector and Belos angst? It's not about how no one will like her anymore, it's that they'll hate her because it needs to be that drastic for her to care. It also makes her less of the paragon hero that she sees herself as. And that's laughable because she only has like TWO moments in the entire series where she actively seeks out a way to help someone without them asking. The cure for Eda's curse at the end of S1, where she's trying not to have Eda die in return for watching over her which is just kind of basic kindness and going after King's stuffed rabbit in Titan Where Art Thou. At that point though, the show claims they're siblings so it's just being kind to your family... You know, right before she effectively tells Eda to go rot because she won't let her go fight Belos.

All the while, she is learning NOTHING. The teenage dumbass archtype is GREAT as a main character because it allows so much room for growth. It's part of why Anne is such a good protagonist because while she embraces the lazy side of it more than trying to appear special, she is still a teenage dumbass. As such, S1 spends time teaching her morals and making her grow up so she can be better.

Luz never grows up. Then again, she'd either have to actually face consequences for her actions or care more deeply about others for that to happen. That isn't going to happen though, not when she, and everyone around her, are solely focused on letting her live the isekai fantasy that she's always wanted.

=========

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.

And finally a Twitter you can follow too!

#luz noceda #the owl house criticism #toh critical

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oubliette-odette · 6 months

Text

The Reluctance of Love Pt. 11

When I started writing this a month ago, it was quite honestly just a little drabble to keep my mind occupied during the middle of a really stressful move. And now I have fully invested myself to writing an entire novel...wtf. But truly, those of you who continue to interact and support this story - you have NO IDEA how much it means to me. I consider you all my friends because you take the time to love these boys as much as I do. So from the bottom of my heart, mad love to you all. 💚

And what's this? A new character enters the playing field!

Orc Male x Half-Elf Male, Fated Mates, Forbidden Love, Slow Burn Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10 11, 12 Word Count: 2547 (average 19 min read) Content Warnings: mention of mating, homophobia, fantasy racism (the steamy bits are coming i promise folks - I'm antsy too) All orcish is from orcishdictionary.com, created by Matt Vancil. Not beta-read. Criticism is welcome, but be sure to distinguish criticism from hate. Thanx :)

“You look like you could use a friend.”

Inside the General Store, I heard the gentle, velvety voice behind me no louder than a whisper. I turned to see the violet-toned dragonborn that had nodded at me when I arrived in Berdusk. They had shocking purple eyes to match and they regarded me with a quiet, gentle atmosphere.

I nodded and turned to face them, bringing my chin down to show my respect. I wasn’t sure what to say, but the dragonborn took my forearm, and continued speaking. “Berdusk is a quaint city, but it is not the most welcoming. My name is Doxxah, what is yours, friend?”

I looked around and saw that the other shopper within the store were watching the two of us carefully, but not before making quick glances away. I looked back at the Dragonborn and managed to utter back, “Drunrag Ulurat.”

“Ah, I see your father in you.” Doxxah responded, “He’s an old friend of mine from days long ago. What brings you all the way to Berdusk?”

How did I answer? Knowing the present company around us, it didn’t feel safe to say anything.

Doxxah winked and patted my arm gently. “Why don’t you come with me back to my place? I’ll purchase whatever you need from here.”

“Oh, there’s no need.” I said, I lifted in my arms the small collection of fresh produce I had come to purchase, it was just enough to satisfy for the next week. I wasn’t ready to overcommit too much time here. Not if Altan and I could find a way to get him out.

“Please, you’re a guest in this town and I’d like to treat you.” The Dragonborn smiled, “Plus - don’t remind your father about this - but I still owe him a few favors that I’d like to clear my conscience of.” They then proceeded to gather the produce in my arms and carry it towards the counter where a glum man was waiting.

“Good morning Clarence.” Doxxah said cheerily, depositing all of their goods.

“Doxxah.” The man grunted, they seemed to begrudge having to be so polite to the Dragonborn and he looked up at me suspiciously. “You bring a lot of odd folk to our town.”

“Isn’t it lovely?” Doxxah responded. “It's about time we brought a little colour to the town.” Doxxah turned to wink at me before paying the man with their coins and carrying everything out.

Out in the streets Doxxah walked comfortably, confidently, it sometimes felt as if they walked like they were the most important person on the street. And people looked at them that way too.

“Just right here.” Doxxah said after passing a few buildings. I looked up to find myself in front of a bakery, a sign hanging that was cut and sanded down to the shape of a dollop of frosting. Walking inside, there was a rich aroma of cinnamon, vanilla and fresh, warm bread.

“Make yourself at home, I have just a bit of time before I have to open up the shop.” Doxxah moved briskly and comfortably about the space, dropping their sack of flower onto a counter in the back before throwing my produce into another sack and handing it to me. “Now, tell me, Drunrag, what’s your story?”

I still struggled to open my mouth. I suddenly realized just how…how silly I was being. How do I tell someone I was pining for the Duke’s son in a way that I was wholly unprepared for and traveled all the way from the Sword Coast just to make sure that he was okay and now was committing an indeterminate amount of time to break him free from his father’s controlling grip so we could potentially be something more than friends?

I ended up opening and closing my mouth multiple times before Doxxah let out an amused huff and shook their head. “You’re not a big talker, are ya?”

I shook my head.

Doxxah led me over to a set of table and chairs - considerably large in size to fit us comfortably - and swept across the store, retrieving a steaming cup of tea and a plate of many pastries that they placed in front of me.

“Let me ask you this, friend, are you in any dire need?”

I shook my head, “No. Thank you.”

“Are you looking for a job?”

I pondered the question. It had already been a week since I last saw Altan and neither of us had been able to see each other. There was no knowing how long it would take to find an opportunity to see him again and my funds weren’t bottomless.

Doxxah tapped a clawed finger on the table. “I could use someone with some stamina and strength in my bakery. Would you be interested?”

I nodded, “Yes. Thank you.”

“Wonderful, that’s two favors down now!” Doxxah exclaimed, “Soon, your father will be owing me!” They laughed before they suddenly sobered and looked at me intently. “Listen here, Drunrag. Berdusk isn’t the friendliest town when it comes to newcomers. You have to have grit to make it around here. People will stare at you. They might say things that show their ignorance. But there are good people here too, and they’re the ones worth staying for.”

Altan’s face came to my mind at their words, a warm feeling forming within me.

“Now, you eat up while I get this shop open. If you feel like helping I only ask that you get that gunk out from beneath your nails.”

My cheeks burned as I looked down to see black beneath each of my nails. I uselessly wiped my fingers across the front of my shirt and watched in a daze as Doxxah once again moved like a whirlwind as they flung open windows, propped the door open and summoned from the back of the store fresh trays of all sorts of delicious looking breads, pastries, and muffins. My mouth salivated even midchewing through my own pastry.

From inside the warm comfort of Doxxah’s bakery, I could look out and see Berdusk in a different light. It was a quaint town, full of small little businesses like Doxxah’s that offered small comforts for folks. It was a more rich town than where I had been and the streets were clean, well swept and the people who walked them were well-dressed and friendly-looking - at least to each other.

I was surprised to see a customer walk in not moments before the shop opened and even more surprised to see it was the man who had been riding alongside the Duke last week. His hair was brown, long, and he had a full beard that concealed much of his expression. His eyebrows were thick and furrowing and he had a very serious look to him.

“Gaius!” Doxxah exclaimed. “Been a long time! Day off?”

He shook his head, “No, just a late start.”

“How are the young lordlings?”

My ears perked at the question and I listened intently.

Gaius nodded solemnly, “With the eldest Hilmar back, the younger ones seem to be in bright spirits. However, that eldest boy…he feels like a fish out of water.”

Doxxah hummed agreeably, “I pity the poor things. To be raised by a man who’s greatest love is power….” There was a lull in the conversation, it felt awkward and somber. Doxxah quickly perked up, “Tell me, how is Del and the babe?”

Gaius’s eyes brightened and I could see beneath the beard the lift of his lips as he broke into a nervous laugh. “Del is well, not more than a month before the baby should be here.”

I watched quietly from my corner as Doxxah and the large man interacted. Doxah seemed to have an intense amount of charm that helped them ease into any conversation. I could see how much the man was easing around them.

“Well, you tell me when the baby is coming, I know a thing or two about delivering little tykes. You tell Del that, will you?” While Doxxah talked, their hands were doing their own thing, pulling small moon shaped rolls and a loaf of bread from trays and carefully placing them into a paper box, tying it off with a ribbon and handing them to Gaius.

“I will, thank you.” Gaius said, his voice was low, like a rumble from a weighted wheel on a wagon - it reminded me of my father’s - and he paid her before turning to leave. As he turned, his eyes met mine and I saw that he recognized me from last week. He gave me a gentle nod before turning and walking out of the shop.

“Who is that?” I braved to ask.

Doxxah tried to read me before answering, “Gaius Gideon. He’s Berdusk born and raised and is proud of it. He’s the Commander of the Phoenix Legion. They’re the armed defense and security that exists around the town. He’s currently stationed at the Duke’s Hall. He’s been gone for quite a few weeks, heard he was escorting back the eldest son of the Duke who ran away.”

“Altan.” I said aloud, not thinking.

Doxxah raised an eyebrow, “So you’ve heard of him?”

I nodded, “He’s…” I looked down, my fingers caught between each other. “We’ve met.”

“Ah, I believe I’m beginning to paint the picture of why you’re here.” Doxxah said, an understanding tone in their voice. “Close friends?”

My throat tightened at the question, all I could do was nod.

Doxxah chuckled and turned their attention to their baked goods. “Perhaps you would like to join me when I make my weekly delivery to their cook?”

“You deliver to the Duke?”

Doxxah puffed their chest, “Well naturally! There’s no better baker in town than me. I’ve got to keep the shop open for a bit this morning, but once the fresh loaves are out, we’ll take them straight to the Duke’s Hall? Will you come?”

I nodded, my heart was already pounding inside me at the news.

The hours dragged by, but I did my best to be of help to Doxxah. While they were busy decorating small cakes and tarts, I was busy transferring bags of flour from one storage area to another. Shifting and rearranging things as Doxxah directed felt like a lot of busy, meaningless work, but I was grateful for the distraction.

At the peak of the day, Doxxah announced that the goods to be delivered to the Duke’s kitchens were ready and they handed me a stack of boxed goodies and we were on our way straight up the hill, towards the Duke’s Hall.

The guards said nothing as Doxxah led us through and my eyes were transfixed on the building that loomed before me. It was impressive and surely expensive architecture and there were armed men everywhere I looked, but also gardens, fountains, fragrant flowers and many sets of stairs that eventually led to the double doors into the Hall. I struggled to take it all in while I was also balancing the stack in my hands.

The armed men at the double doors gave a polite nod before opening the doors wide and letting us through. Doxxah hummed as they walked down the hallway. The halls were tall and wide open. I believed it was the first time that I ever felt small and I couldn’t keep up with everything that I was seeing. Candelabras with dozens of candles illuminated the halls and paintings of long dead historical leaders spanned the length. There was a plush rug beneath my feet that I worried was being soiled by my boots.

Doxxah turned down many halls that kept me confused and very lost, but eventually we passed down one where I started to catch the whiff of hot food on the stove. I was about to follow Doxxah into the kitchen. The cooks were delighted to see the delivery and we handed them off without a hitch. Doxxah was leading me back out, our hands empty now. I trusted them to lead us out, because I couldn’t remember a single turn we made.

As we worked our way back down the halls, I noticed many halls crossed into others and I enjoyed peering down them, wondering where they would all lead to.

I stopped when I found one that led to a dead end, with a tall, rounded window and a young man sitting in a window seat, sketching.

“Altan.” I breathed.

I didn’t know if he had heard me, or if he just knew I was there, but he looked up and his copper curls danced against his cheeks and I felt the warmth of the sun inside me.

His sketchbook slipped from his hands and he stumbled onto his feet, “Drunrag?” He exclaimed before tripping to get towards me.

I closed the distance to catch him and I found him suddenly in my arms. All of the warmth and sunshine inside him seeped into me. I was selfishly wishing to feel more of it.

‘Are you alright?” I asked, my voice no louder than a whisper.

He nodded, his mouth hung open as he clung to me. “How did you - what are you - why are you here?”

I smiled gently, “I…I got a job.”

“What? You did?” He swiveled his head around me and saw Doxxah standing at the end of the hall, a knowing smile on their face. “With Doxxah?”

I nodded, “I’m staying here until…” I didn’t know what to say: until we’re together? Until you’re safe? Until you’re mine? All of those felt so…intense and final.

Altan’s mouth opened into a wide smile. “You’re incredible, you know?”

“Me?” I shake my head. “No, not me. You…” I couldn’t look away from him. “It’s you.”

I think we both found ourselves blushing at what we both said and I suddenly became very aware of his hands being dwarfed in mind. And the warmth that exuded from him made something in me feel alive.

“I…I should go.” I said. "You are alright?”

He nodded, his expression became more sober. “I’m sorry Drun. I wish I could just leave with you…” His hand was suddenly on my chest and I felt a zing of delight course though me. “I understand if you can’t stay.”

“Don’t give up on me.” I said. “Please.”

He let out a sharp release of breath, “Drun, I could never…I just don’t when…”

I shook my head, “I’ll be here whenever it is.”

“Commander Gideon, what a surprise after this morning!” Doxxah exclaimed, louder than normal.

Altan jerked his hand back and I jumped back and looked to see that Doxxah was giving us a wink before turning her attention away. My cheeks burned as I looked over to Altan who had already turned away and was back in his seat on the windowsill, his head buried in the sketchbook.

“A pleasant reunion during my short interlude between meetings, Mx Doxxah.” Commander Gideon observed. He bowed to Doxxah, then saw me, saw Altan, looked back at me before making a slight nod in my direction. I bowed my head.

“Deliveries are made, so we’ll be getting back. Just said hello to the young lord.” Doxxah explained before bowing their head and guiding us down the hall.

The Commander bowed his head and continued one and I followed Doxxah going the opposite direction, my head spinning.

“You were holding out on me, Drunrag. You two are close friends.” Doxxah said, their voice teasing. “Very close friends.”

“Shut up.” I managed to say.

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