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myfictionaldreams · 8 months

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Day 22: Bondage - Poly!Marauders

Summary: Trying something new, you trusted your boyfriends as they restrained you in the middle of an empty classroom

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, bondage, restraints with ropes, eyemask, anonymous sex, mouth gag, dom/sub, edging, nearly caught, free-use (kinda), creampie, subspace, aftercare

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kinktober masterlist😈

AO3 Link

It had taken nearly half an hour to set up. James undressed you slowly, chilling you to the bone as the emptied classroom did little to provide warmth. Remus positioned your body to allow Sirius to begin intricately moving his wand, directing the rope into unique knots he’d been practising for today.

They used a rickety old desk with numerous burn marks from past students' experiments having gone wrong on the top, but this was the base for where you would be leaning your weight. Your chest was pushed over the surface, so you were bent over. Each of your ankles was tied to the floor, giving no space to move from how your legs are spread, giving the boys the perfect view of your intimate areas. Your arms are awkwardly positioned behind your back and then the thick rope slithered and wound around your body, delicately between your breasts so they both are perked until you are utterly and thoroughly strapped to the desk with no means of escape.

Despite the odd angle and the sensation of the rope, it was surprisingly comfortable, especially as your head was left to dangle off the edge of the desk and had free movement.

“How’s this position feeling?” James asked, squatting down so that you could look him in his hazel eyes.

“It’s good, Sirius did a great job”, you respond with a grin and, earning a satisfied whoop from Sirius.

“Good. Now tell me what you need to do if you want to use your safeword”, James asked with caution, lacing his tone.

“Shake my head or tap my fingers three times”.

“Good girl”, Sirius praises from where he stood out of your line of vision, but you could feel the journey his fingers were taking down your spine, between the ropes. “Now, it’s time to say bye-bye”.

This was all part of the plan. First, they placed a ball gag into your mouth, Remus doing so delicately before kissing your temple and easing the silk eye mask to cover your vision. All you were left to depend on was your hearing as you listened to them walking away and out the door.

Alone, you attempted to try and move, testing the restraints, and all it did was tighten around your body, the rough material burning slightly from the friction. Everything seemed to be much louder, from the creaking of the ropes to your own breathing; it was all emphasised as you tried to listen for the door opening again, but you were unsure who it would be. This was the idea for today's antics, somewhat anonymous sex but with your boyfriends, bound and gagged, for them to come and touch and fuck without getting caught.

It was exhilarating, blood pumping with adrenaline, which helped to keep you warm as you waited patiently, a pulse forming between your thighs for what was about to happen.

The door creaking open was your first sign of someone else in the room. You stopped breathing to try and listen more closely to the steps, but you could not decipher who had walked through the door. The ropes strained more as you attempted to shift your position, to prepare for what was to come, and already forgetting how thoroughly you were tied down, so all you managed to do was stay entirely still.

The zipper unfastened was almost deafening with how loudly it echoed around the classroom; all you could tell was that whoever it was was directly behind you. He did not touch you with his hands; the first touch from his body was the tip of whoever's cock had just been released from the confines of his trousers.

Your breath hitched as he swiped his hardness up and down your folds, adding extra pressure onto your clit that had your body tightening in tension and then relaxing with the pleasure that came from the stimulation. The lewd sound of your wetness being rubbed against had the tips of your ears warming, but you couldn’t contemplate the embarrassment as you slowly were penetrated.

You gasped, but it was muffled by the round plastic ball shoved in your mouth, holding your tongue to the bottom of your mouth and making saliva challenging to swallow that it was already beginning to dribble down your chin. It was blissful, that first stretch and burn that came with it, the wider your hole became, clasping around the cock like it was your body's lifeline.

The desk creaks under the weight of the movement of your body, especially as more warmth crowds your lower back as your boyfriend begins to lean their weight over you, pressing their hands into the desk on either side of your hips. Using that as leverage, he began to fuck you with hard, deep strokes.

Your head fell forward, fully dangling off of the edge. The entire experience was disorientating, not knowing which cock was inside of you. Either way, you loved it; even the ache building in your shoulders from the awkward angles of your arms couldn’t fault the overwhelming pleasure through your body.

Your moans increased in pitch, the fire in your abdomen blazing as he kept fucking and fucking until you thought it couldn’t feel any better; the urge to scream out with your orgasm was overwhelming. Until that is, the very thing giving you pleasure decides to vacate its warm home as the cock pulls out completely. Your cunt fluttered as you groaned with agony and frustration as the orgasm disappeared before reaching its full potential.

Only after you had calmed enough to stop whining that the cock fucked into you again, chasing their pleasure until their thrusts halted and warmth filled deep inside your cunt as their cum spurted into you. They stayed inside of you until their cock had softened. You wish you could have seen them, surprised they hadn’t even made a noise through it all, as each of your boyfriends was usually quite vocal as they ejaculated.

Whoever it was, leaves without so much as a ‘thanks for a good fuck’, as all you're left with is the obscene drip of the cum oozing out of your vagina and onto the stone floor. It matches the same noise of the saliva dripping down your chin and onto the floor, creating a tiny puddle.

The door opens and closes again, the similar steps as before, a zipper and then a cock pushing in. You gasped just as lewdly as before, especially as your arms were tugged by whoever was fucking you, using your roped hands as something to hold onto as he fucked.

You were once again lost in pleasure. Anonymous sex with one of your boyfriends, bound, gagged, edged with each orgasm that threatened to become a reality. You were so close to cumming twice, your clit swollen and throbbing, and yet, you had to continue the endurance of not being able to cum. He would simply pull his cock out, take a step back and then continue once you’d calmed down enough.

You were close to begging, not that they would be able to understand what you were moaning about around the gag ball.

Just as the thrusting increased in strength, cock smacking into your cervix with the power behind it, did the door suddenly burst open.

“Someone is coming!” You could not tell who had spoken as you felt dizzy and fuzzy through the edging and bondage play. All you knew was that the pleasure had disappeared, and a hand was cupping your cheek. “I’m going to cover you in the invisibility cloak, but you need to stay quiet for us”.

The weight and warmth of the cloak were welcomed, giving you something to ground you in the moment, bringing you back to what was happening and moving past just throughs of cock and orgasms. Shit, you thought, someone was close to catching you all. Of course, this was all the thrill that came with fucking in a somewhat public space, but the realities of it had dread pooling in your stomach uneasily. Especially as you had no means of escape, thoroughly stuck in the position with no way out, or even seeing where anyone else was.

“Boys? What are you doing here?” came the lovely, soft voice of your best friend, Lily.

“Why are you snooping around, Evans? Can’t three boys be revising without any interruptions?” James responded sarcastically from where he stood in front of you from the sounds of it.

“You revising… in a dusty old classroom… You really make everything sound suspicious without even trying. And anyway, I was just on my rounds as head girl, and I spotted you hiding outside the door; of course, I’m going to follow and-” Lily pauses, taking a moment to think before asking with accusation thick in her voice. “Where is she?”

“Where is who?” Sirius asks, from bedside James.

“You know who I’m asking about, Sirius. Where you three are, she usually is, so where is she?” Lily asks, obviously referring to your whereabouts.

“I don’t know who you are talking about. Do you know who she’s talking about, Prongs?” Sirius asks James casually with a hint of arrogance.

“Hmm, I’m not sure. Hello? Anyone else in here?” James shouts around the room, obviously not getting a response and earning a very sincere eye-roll from Lily. “Nope, not in here. Maybe whoever it is that you’re looking for is in the common room”.

Lily gives an exacerbated sigh, “Whatever, I won’t ask any more questions. Just make sure whatever it is you’re doing doesn’t lose us any house points”.

“Nothing like that is happening, I promise you that, Lily”, Remus answers, stepping forward and gently easing Lily out of the room. A few dreadful minutes pass before the warmth of the cloak disappears, and you’re nuzzling into a palm cupping your face. “Are you ok?” Remus asks gently, moving both hands to your face and tenderly stroking your cheekbone with his thumb.

You nod your head as you answer that you are ok. “Good. Do you want to continue?” Once more, you’re nodding your head, yes. You mewl slightly as Remus’ hands leave the comfort of your face, and then two footsteps are heard leaving the door.

You’re left in the room with one of them, but once more, you’re unsure who it was that was circling around your body. Two fingers then swiped down your pussy, making you jolt in your restraints as they push in. You’re drenched from the side of it, and for once, they don’t stop until you orgasm, curling into that beautiful, sensitive spot within.

You were shivering through the orgasm, eyes clenching tightly closed, even though you were still covered in the eye mask. The waves of pleasure continued as a cock was replacing the fingers; from the size and feel of it, it was the same person as before you’d been interrupted by Lily.

He continued the pace as fiercely as before, your body now humming with pleasure and adrenaline and slipping further into the submissive space you enjoyed so much. Especially as you were restrained and putting your complete trust in your three boyfriends, it was easy to feel more vulnerable and submissive like this.

You came again as your boyfriend also finished, his hot seed joining the previous man as your walls milked him of every single drop in tight, clenching waves of pleasure.

By the third person, your body is past aching and is not hurting. Pins and needles run up and down your limbs, the rough rope is rubbing against your delicate skin, and you're slightly light-headed due to the position your head is hanging.

The cock filled you completely, lubed by your juices and two other men as it entered you to the brim. Your pussy is throbbing and slightly overstimulated from the orgasms and fucking. The moans are hoarse, jaw aching just as badly as your restrained limbs from being kept open with the ball gag. Your eyemask was damp around the yes from where you’d cried in euphoria. It was all so fucking good but verging on being too much.

With the constant stimulation from whoever was fucking your pussy, it felt like the pulses of your orgasm didn’t want to settle, so you were left with that heightened sensation. But, then, a firm hand was holding yours behind your back, which was an odd sensation due to the pins and needles, but it was your only sign that you were able to be full once more as he breathed out a heavy sigh and came.

The hand he’s holding is released as he eases himself out of you carefully, zipping himself up before whistling to notify the others who enter immediately.

The eye mask is removed first by Sirius, who is now kneeling in front of you. Your eyes are closed, but wetness lines the lashes, which he quickly wipes, cradling your face so he can look at you properly.

“Hey, sweetheart, you with us?” The way he talked so gently to you made your heart beating harder with love, helping you draw your tension away from the pain and to him. Nodding your head, he praised you, delicately kissing the tip of your nose. “You did so good for us; we’re so proud of you. We’re just going to remove your gag and the ropes. We’ll be as careful as we can”.

Nodding your head in understanding, Sirius unbuckles the gag from between your lips, spit coating the plastic. He carefully massages your jaw, helping you to shut it, and you now realise just how dry your throat was as you take a second to try and coat your mouth and swallow a few times to relieve the burn. With the back of his sleeve, Sirius cleans your mouth, chin and throat of any spit that had dribbled out.

Remus and James ease the ropes from your body, starting with your arms. You shout out in pain at feeling the material's roughness, and even though it was nice to have movement back, your joints and muscles were aching, so any movement caused pain. Remus thankfully used his significantly warm hands to massage over the soreness.

“Shh, I know it hurts; we’re going to take you to the prefects bathroom and use the bath in there”, Sirius informs you, still cradling your face and talking through the movements.

As the last of the rope from your ankles is unbound, you were scared you’d roll off the desk and onto the floor and for a second, it felt like you were. But, it was actually Remus who had been tilting your body so that he could scoop you into his arms, your head resting tiredly on his shoulders, ignoring the fact that cum was still seeping out of your hole and onto his arm.

“Throw the cloak over us, will you Padfoot?” Remus asks Sirius, who does as instructed.

“I want to sleep”, you whisper, voice breaking with the effort in doing so.

“You can sleep, we’ll look after you”, Remus reassured.

#poly!marauders #the marauders #james potter #sirius black #remus lupin #marauders smut #james potter x reader #james potter smut #sirius black x reader #sirius black smut #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin smut #harry potter smut #mine*#kinktober #kinktober 2023

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oneforthemunny · 22 days

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Cowboy Eddie! Figging smut

super duper kinky smutty so minors dni. dom/sub kinda sadist themes. figging, and spanking, and bondage, and smut.

"How's that feel?" Eddie hummed, his lubed fingers sinking slowly in and out of your ass, free hand on your spine to hold you in place.

"Fine," You sighed, trying to relax into his touch. "You haven't put it in yet, though, so ask me then."

Eddie snorted lightly, pulling his fingers out gently. "Well, wait's almost over, baby." He patted your bare ass gently, offering a soft squeeze, leaving lube remnants on your skin.

You whined silently, wiggling at the looming warning, arms starting to burn from the bound position they'd been in for the past thirty minutes. Hands tied up high in front of you, Eddie had piled pillows under your waist, keeping your ass up high where he liked it, legs tied separately and spread open for him. His favorite punishment position, though he hadn't gagged you. Not this time, not since you were trying something new.

You could hear the snap of the fresh latex glove, black and tight. You turned, looking over your shoulder carefully to see him, holding the whittled piece of ginger in his gloved hand. He wanted you to see it, taunting you with it, just like he had when he whittled it. Made you kneel before him on the wooden floorboard of the porch, eyes on him as he worked his pocket knife, carving the ginger perfectly to fit into you.

It was sadistic, the idea- still, you throbbed and ached when you thought of it, mouth filling with spit, hips rubbing against the pillows with excitement.

"I've told you about running around in those little flip-flops, have I not?" Eddie hummed, heavy steps across the floor. You clenched your eyes in excitement. "Told you that you don't need to be coming out to the barn in those. That you'll get yourself hurt, and what'd you do?"

You huffed, shifting against the restraints. "I asked you somethin'." Eddie snarled, gloved hand smacking on the bare skin of your left asscheek.

You tensed, lifting at the impact, swallowing down a moan. "I wore them anyways."

"You sure did." Eddie snapped. "And when I corrected you, you got the worst little fuckin' attitude, didn't you?"

Your body burned with heat, embarrassed and exciting all at once. "Yes, Sir." You muttered, rolling your face into the mattress.

Eddie's free hand lifted your head up by your scalp in correction. "What're you doin'? Look at you." He huffed. "You're just all kinds of bratty, aren't you? I've never seen someone so in need of correction." His words sent a jolt of excited heat straight to your core.

Eddie let your head fall gently back into the mattress, tsking at you. "You're just needin' to be punished, aren't you? Need me to correct you?" His free hand grabbed your right cheek, spreading you open. You shivered, the cold air of the room hitting your lubed asshole, anticipation searing over you.

"Yes, Sir." You gritted, hips lifting invoulintarily.

Eddie swallowed back a grin, his cock twitching with excitement behind the zipper of his jeans. He brought the narrowed head of the ginger to your tightest hole, circling your ass in warning.

"I'll get you taken care of." Eddie muttered, pushing the ginger in slowly. You tensed, the intrusion slightly uncomfortable, taking a grounding breath. "I'll get you properly corrected."

He pushed the edge of the ginger in further, letting the thick, un-whittled stem at the bottom stick out like a plug. Eddie watched you carefully, pulling the glove off but his eyes never left you.

You settled after the intrusion, content for just a moment, before your body went rigid again. Hips wiggling, pathetic whines that you tried to muffle, and pulling at the restraints at the burning sensation that came shortly after. Your eyes pricked with tears, nose burning with heat and tears.

Oh, it burned. Tingling, hot, akin to icy hot inside of you. You squirmed, a mewling cry leaving your lips. You throbbed, rapid heartbeat in your core despite the pain.

"Now," You could hear Eddie's smirk, the jingle of the belt in his hands. "How's that feel?"

"It burns." You babbled, sniffling wetly. "It burns really bad, Sir."

"Bad enough you want to stop?" Eddie paused, eyeing the glove and washcloth on the dresser.

You shook your head. "No, Sir." You sniffled, looking at him with teary eyes, lip jutted in a pout. "I need to be punished."

Eddie smirked, grinning proudly, squeezing your thigh in gentle affection. "Mm, I think so too." He growled, stubble tickling your sensitive skin when he pressed a kiss to your shoulder. "You know what to say if you want me to stop, don't ya?"

You nodded, hips wiggling, though you regretted that immediately. The burn intensifying and reigniting, a cry bubbling out of your chest, a warm, wave of pleasure tearing down to your aching core.

"Good girl," Eddie grinned, doubling his belt, standing beside you. "Now, remember, baby. The more you try to fight it, the more it's gonna hurt." He tapped your right cheek with the leather belt in warning, before bringing it back, sending it sailing and landing on your skin with a resounding crack.

You tensed instinctively, the ginger in your ass burning more, matching the stinging stripe of the belt. You now understood why he said this was strictly for punishment, when you'd been extra bad. Your body burned with heat, some excited, some painful, some that made you dizzy with ecstacy.

Eddie continued to belt you, teasingly toying with the ginger between spanks to hear you screech and sob, cock throbbing painfully until he decided that you'd learned your lesson. Taking mercy on you, removing the ginger, wiping you down and untying you before he pinned you to the mattress himself, fucking you brainless into the quilt.

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thegoldencontracts · 14 days

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The Daintiest Man Alive

Summary: After a few unfruitful attempte at strategizing, you and Jack finally come up with a plan to try and force Azul to let the anemones go. Things quickly go topsy-turvy.

You and Jack had both been trying to make Azul free all the students he'd enslaved. And frankly, it wasn't going well.

You'd already signed a contract with him, and now you had three- no, two days left to steal some field trip photo from an undersea museum.

It was safe to say you were starting to get a bit desperate. After all, someone as talented as Azul had to be super hard to beat!

"Ugh," Jack said, shooting you a disgusted look. "You're fawning over that Cephalopunk again, aren't you?"

You just sighed dreamily.

"He's pretty, and smart, and he's so talented, and-*

"And he scammed you out of your home."

"He didn't scam me, Jack, I'm not stupid. I'll kick his ass if I need to and get my home back."

Truth be told, you already had a plan. You felt a bit bad for not telling Jack yet. Especially since he seemed like he was genuinely trying to help you - but hey, at least you could go through other plans before trying out your last resort.

But you were running out of options. That was becoming pretty clear from the plans you were trying out.

"Are you sure we wanna do this?" You asked.

"Why not?" Jack said. "It'll be easy. He seems pretty weak."

True, but- there were so many things to worry about here. Everything that could go wrong with your plan of physically overpowering Azul and, well, basically holding him hostage. It was crazy! How did you two even think of it?

"Are you really sure, though?" You asked. Jack just nodded.

"Yeah, yeah," he said. "I'm sure. Aren't you? After all, this was mostly your idea."

And you beginning to worry it was a dumb idea. Were you two seriously going to get Azul pinned down? Hold him hostage? This was crazy, God, you were crazy-

"Listen," Jack said, as your thoughts began to spiral. "I know this is a bit of a crazy plan, but hey, we can make it work. And it's better than losing your home to some scumbag."

That was... weirdly comforting, especially coming from Jack.

"A hot scumbag," you said. "But hey, it's too late for second thoughts anyways, right?"

Jack nodded. It really was, considering that the two of you were right outside Mostro Lounge. Now, you just had to wait for Azul to-

The door slammed open as if the room itself had heard your thoughts, and the two of you sprung into action.

"What is the meaning of-"

And before Azul knew it, he was pinned. He gave you and indescribable gaze, before huffing.

"Release me at once," he said. You just shook your head.

"I bet you already know what you'd have to do for that to happen, sweetcheeks."

Jack's face puckered at your nickname. Whatever. It was a good nickname, right?

"You won't get away with this," Azul hissed.

"And you won't get away with anything you've done either." Jack said, before turning to you. "Keep his hands tied down; it'll make it easier for us if he tries to get out."

"On it."

Come to think of it, Azul wasn't struggling at all. He was just... Laying there. With a mildly indignant look on his face. What happened? Did he just realize how futile any attempt at escape would be?

"You seem awfully calm for someone in such a precarious position, pretty boy," Jack groaned at your continuous use of - perfectly average and rather clever if you really thought about it, in fact - nicknames. "Why? Got a trick or two up your sleeve?"

"Not at all," Azul said as you tied his arms together with some random rope Jack had summoned. It was pretty meh in quality, like the kind used as a prop in a kid's play. "I simply know brutes like you will be brought to justice."

He seemed a bit uneasy, though.

"The real brutes here are you and those twins of yours," Jack said. You nodded.

"Yep! The real devil's the way you use those gorgeous eyes of yours to lure unsuspecting students in, blinding them with your beauty."

Silence. Then, the sound of Jack smacking his palm again his forehead.

"Do you have any idea how stupid you sounded just now?" He asked.

You just laughed.

"You think I'm super witty deep down inside, admit it."

Azul just scowled.

"You two have some nerve, taking advantage of my weak and fragile nature!" He said with a huff.

That sounded a bit suspicious. Was Azul really the type to do openly admit how weak he was? Wasn't this a complete contrast from his usual demeanor?

Jack seemed to notice the same thing.

"You really didn't need to emphasize how weak you are," he said, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"My stature doesn't allow for musculature," Azul said, but you couldn't help but notice the slight bit of sweat that seemed to form near his cheek.

Wait a minute.

Was he- strong enough to get out of this? Was he just pretending he was weak because it made him feel small and he liked that or something?

"You could get out of this easily," you said in realization. Azul looked around awkwardly.

"No. I couldn't."

"Yes you could."

Jack's eyes widened. He'd realized the same thing you had.

"You could've gotten out of this all along?" He said. Azul looked around in panic.

"N-No I couldn't, I'm much too weak, I assure you," he said. Like you believed that for one second.

"It seems like you can," Jack said, brow twitching in irritation. "Then go on. Do it."

"I'm too frail," Azul said.

Before you could continue this weird tangent, the door slammed open again, and there walked the Leech twins. Jack seemed even more irritated than before.

"Now those guys're here too," he said. You were more worried about what they were going to do.

"My, my," Jade said with a mocking laugh. "It seems we've encountered a damsel in distress."

"Yep!" Floyd said. "Don't you guys know that's our Azul?"

Hard to believe when Floyd looked like he was about to die of laughter.

But in an instant, Azul shoved the two of you off, snapping the rope like it was nothing before walking up to Floyd and shaking him by the uniform.

"I know you recorded that! Give up your phone or I swear to the Sea Witch you won't recognize your own body-"

You and Jack just stared in shock. What was going on with Azul? He was the biggest barbarian out of any of you! Just hearing the way he threatened Floyd made you shudder a little, even if Floyd himself just seemed amused.

There was one conclusion to draw here. This plan was definitely a failure.

#azul ashengrotto #twisted wonderland #twst #azul ashengrotto x reader #twst azul #azul x reader #azul ashengrotto x you #twst x reader #jack howl #floyd leech #jade leech

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captain039 · 17 days

Text

Wasteland heat (Redone) PT 4

Cooper Howard(The Ghoul) x reader

Warnings: Violence, blood, gore, AOB dynamics, heat, oral F receiving, smut, swearing, fallout stuff, implied cousin incest, virgin reader, drug usage, needles, plus size reader, sexual assault

Previous part <-

It feels like days of walking, what you tried to share in your pack with Lucy is now gone, water scarce, and food also scarce. Lucy's missing a boot and you're missing your bed. You feel so tired, your body like jelly, your legs numb and painful at the same time, like pins and needles hitting every inch of your skin. You've hit what looks like an old town maybe, you're not sure which one but as the alpha stops and your pip boy fuzzes at the small water gathering in an old broken metal thing you falter, smacking your lips together softly. You haven't told Lucy that you've been avoiding your meds, you couldn't chew them, couldn't swallow them without water, and you would always gag and cough them out.

"Hm," The man says filling his canteen and drinking from it with a loud sigh, you glance to Lucy seeing her staring at him intently, or maybe the water he's drinking. She falls to her knees and you go to stop her but she cups her hands and drinks from the radiation-filled water with coughs and gags.

"Now you're getting it" The alpha hums and you make a small noise in your throat. You can't reach your backpack with your hands tied, can't reach the medication you need to stop you from having a heat. You wonder if it will still work with this type of water. You don't have much time to think because the alpha starts coughing and wheezing and before you know it Lucy has grabbed you and ran.

You don't find her sudden adrenaline burst the same as you run around the cars and to a dead end. You see the giant hole in the ground and the city beyond, it makes you stop and stare before Lucy's got rope around her waist and is tugged back. You turn to the man holding a lasso and tugging her closer, you charge at him with little force, but you manage to tumble to the ground. You can't do much with bound hands and the sudden position makes you so much warmer. He snarls at you as you struggle with fighting his free hand, his other under your knee. You manage to someone hug his hand to your chest and hold it there, hoping Lucy will hurry up and get free and grab his gun. The other wishes she didn't, the other wishes he'd reverse the roles and had you pinned down and tied up. Your mind's in a haze and your grip loosens significantly and he gets his hand free and quickly aims his gun and your sister. You feel like you're struggling to breathe, feeling like the sun got a meter closer and someone poured a bucket of sweat over you. Lucy yells your name but it sounds distant, like she isn't actually right there only a few meters away. Your whole body feels like it cramps up as you're thrown off left on the dirt. You whimper and curl your knees to your chest as you hear scurrying uneven steps and Lucy is at your side.

"I couldn't take the meds" You feel like there's sand pouring from your eyes as you see her shocked face.

"It's ok, It's ok, we can figure this out" She whispers gently lifting your top half to lean against her.

"Fuck sake, get her up and Vaultie and move!" The end of his words break off into an inhuman snarl and coughs rack his body again.

"Come on, there might be help inside" Lucy whispers.

It's a struggle to get you on your feet, an even more struggle to get you to whatever place the alpha was going to. He hits the terminal a buzzing sound coming from it before he speaks.

"Transaction" He says.

"How can I help?" A male voice answers, a little too happy for the wastelands.

"Sixty vials in exchange for two females mint condition" The alpha replies.

"Physical condition must be examined in person, send them in!" Answers the voice. You're too out of it to know what's really going on, you desperately miss your bed even if it was a hospital one, and you need pillows, blankets anything. You whine and Lucy mutters something to you before you move inside. Once in, it feels cooler, and fresher even, on your body before Lucy gasps and jolts.

"What the fudge"

"Fudge? There's no fudge here, just your friendly robot Snip-Snip mark 4" You frown looking at the robot in front of you.

"And you appear to be women, come through" The robot doesn't give you a chance to speak as you're led through the building and into a room.

"Have a seat on that gurney there" The robot points and Lucy helps you onto the gurney.

"Now it appears you are distressed somehow, how can I help?" he asks.

"My sister, she's in heat, she hasn't been able to take her medication, do you have any repellents?" Lucy speaks for you as you sag against her. You want to move though, want to be back outside with the alpha, you want to take his shirt off and feel his skin against yours.

"I say what a predicament, let's see here" He turns and fumbles through drawers.

"I was worried this was a sex slave place" Lucy chuckles lightly and the robot snaps around.

"What a disgusting thought! No!, I'm simply going to harvest your organs" His words make you both freeze before something is injected into your stomach.

You awake groggily and to someone shaking you, you open your eyes slowly and focus on Lucy.

"Thank goodness, you just stay here ok, I'm going to deal with this and I'll be back ok?" She smiles softly and you frown going to speak but she rushes off making you groan. You glance around the room, an old storage room by the looks of it, now with surgical supplies instead. Your memory buzzes back to what happened with the robot and you sit up slowly. You look at the other gurney next to you and sigh a bit. Your body still feels hot and heavy and a nagging keeps scratching your brain as you slowly stand up. You ignore the shots outside, ignore everything, you snatch the two foam tops from the gurneys and lay them in the cleanest corner, you find some old sheets for the gurneys in one of the cupboards and lay them down, folding one as a makeshift pillow. You don't know where your backpack is so you can't use that blanket either. With what you have, which is very little you manage to make a bed well in this case a nest as the teacher called it. She was very brief in explaining what happened if you ever had a heat, there were always medical supplies to avoid all this. You sit on the foam before falling onto your side and sighing, you struggle with your jumpsuit, pushing it off so you only have your white singlet on. The door opens and you jolt sitting up, but relaxing as you see Lucy, she has a grim look on her face, blood on her face and chest, gun in her hand.

"We need to go," She says simply, too simply too emotionless.

"Lucy?" You question and her face falters and breaks as she forces a smile.

"We can find Dad, we can go home soon" She coos and you're not sure if she's telling you or herself.

"Lucy I can't" You mumble and she freezes.

"I'm going into heat I will slow you down and attract unwanted attention, we can connect our pip boy trackers-" You gulp a bit trying to control the emotions that bubble up.

"I just need some food, water maybe, maybe if I take my meds now it won't be so bad" The truth is you don't want to go on, you're tired and need a break, and your body won't move from this spot you've claimed.

"Ok, I'll get you supplies" She whispers tears in her eyes as she walks out the door.

She gathers supplies, she gets you food and water, alcohol too, she fills up a bag for herself also before sitting with you for a little bit before she says goodbye and she's gone, you watch her move on your pip boy before you lay back with a sigh. You barricade the door on shaky legs and make sure there is no other way anyone can get in. It's a stupid idea really, staying here and waiting out your heat, who knows if you'll even join up with her again?

You're in and out of sleep, the heat becomes worse, your body sweats, slick coats between your thighs and your breathing is heavy. Caught between fevered dreams and reality till you hear footsteps. You tense up, hoping they can't get it, you made a pretty firm blockade.

"Omega?" You shudder and sag at the sound of the alpha you were travelling with, well forced to travel with. He'd been cruel though, more than once and you feel tears in your eyes like sand again.

"Your sister left you?" He asks and he sounds pissed and you scoff quietly.

"I made her leave" You call out trying not to sound like you're crying or showing any emotion. You haven't spoken much with the stranger, hell you don't know if he even has a name besides what the knight called him 'ghoul'.

"I'll slow her down, she can find Dad and come back and we'll go home" A small sob leaves your lips, for some reason it isn't the truth. You hear him hum outside the door before he shuffles a bit before he lets out a big sigh. "I'd invite you to the party" He takes a sharp a breath before sighing.

"Don't think that's your forte though darlin" he finishes and you're frowning, what party? There's no cake, no people out there as far as you know.

"Don't overthink it" He chuckles and you feel yourself grow warmer that he knew you were. It's quiet for some time and you feel yourself drifting in and out of sleep, you've thrown your vault suit on the other side of the room and ate whatever dried fruit Lucy had found.

"You awake in there omega?" You hear quietly.

"It's dark out now, best be getting some sleep" He mutters, almost too soft for you to hear.

"Why're you being nice?" You ask before you can think and you hear him chuckle. He doesn't answer though and it makes you frown harder before you give up on anticipation and fall asleep once more.

Next part ->

#x reader #aob #fallout tv series #cooper howard x reader #the ghoul #the ghoul x reader #lucy maclean

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cowgurrrl · 1 year

Text

Eat Your Young

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader (platonic!Ellie Williams x reader)

Author’s note: I’m sorry (gif by @pedrohub)

Summary: “Thoe I walk through the valley in the shadow of death I fear no evil for I am the meanest motherfucker in the valley.” [4.1k!!!]

Warnings: episode 8 spoilers!! David (this is a warning in itself), Ellie in peril, canonical violence, bargaining, reader being a badass because I said so, a slight allusion to sa, PTSD symptoms, physical trauma, angst with a happy (slightly ambiguous) ending

Your body aches when you come to. Your face pulses with bruises, and you can feel broken ribs pushing against your lungs. Memories spark under your throbbing skull— waking up to the sound of the garage opening, Ellie yelling for help, the men, the horse going down. She should've woken you up earlier. She never should've tried to face them by herself. Your eyes blink open, and a hideous red carpet stares back at you. Rope ties your hands and ankles to the chair you're sitting on, and you look around for Ellie.

An empty room has never been as scary as it is right now. Your heartbeat quickens against sore ribs, and your breathing rattles loudly. Did they take you both? If so, where is she, and why isn't she with you? Did they find Joel? You think about how weak he was when you left, how he could barely hold his own knife, and how delirious he was. Your teeth grind together as you try to shrink back tears at the thought of him dying alone in that stupid basement. Your thoughts are interrupted by a door opening, and you look up enough to see the familiar man walking through the door.

David pauses by the swinging door once he sees you're awake. His eyes rake over your injuries with an alarming lack of care, and you shift in the chair. Your shoulders scream in pain, and you wince, but Ellie stays at the forefront of your mind.

"Where is she?" You ask. David grabs a chair from one of the tables and sets it in front of you. He's close enough that you can smell sweat and grime on him. You straighten up, making yourself as big as possible, as he sits across from you and stares at you intently.

"I was starting to worry about you," he says, and you let out a shaky breath. "How are you feeling?"

"Where the fuck is she?"

"She's alive. That's all you need to know right now."

"Let me see her."

"I'm afraid you're not in the position to be demanding things," he says as he rubs his hands together. You glance at the door he came through and make a mental note. She has to be through there. She would be able to hear you if you called for her. Does she know how close you are? "Are you her mother?"

"Fuck you."

"You're feisty just like she is. If you're not her mother, you must be the closest thing to it," he says. You try not to let his words settle over your bones. No mother would fail her child the way you've failed her, the way you're actively failing her. "She wouldn't tell me anything about the man, but she asked if you were okay. She cares a lot about you two."

"Is he here?" You hate how small you sound when you ask about him. David smirks, and your skin crawls.

"Not yet, no. We're looking for him now," he says. "My people are dead set on vengeance. It's a good thing I went out with them this morning. Otherwise, you'd both be dead."

"Lucky us."

"I know you didn't kill Alec, and I'm sorry you've traveled with such an angry man for so long. Once we find him, we'll bring him to justice, and you'll be free," he says like he's offering you a one-way ticket to Heaven. "We have room within our group. You and your daughter could live here safely. Start a new life."

"So, you want someone to pay for the loss of life? Is that it? You kidnapped me and a fucking kid to settle a score?"

"In a sense." He sighs. You bite the inside of your cheek as you think about Ellie. She has to be fucking terrified right now— alone, hungry, and maybe hurt. She's strong, though. She could find Joel and move him to a safer location. You've seen her hold her own before, and you trust her as much as you trust Joel. She doesn't need you, but she needs Joel.

"If you let her go, I'll settle your score. Whatever you need to end this shit. I'll call him off, and they'll leave and never come back." You decide. David sits back in his chair as he considers your offer, your sacrifice.

"You really think a man like him would just leave you here?"

"He'd do anything I asked him to," you say. "Just let her go. This isn't her fight, and I think you know that."

"Why do you care so much about him? He's a murderer."

"So am I. I've done really shitty things to stay alive, things I can never tell her about. I'm not a good person."

"But he is?"

"He's trying to be," you say, catching sight of the Bible sitting on a nearby table. You let yourself soften just enough. "Isn't that what you're all about? Salvation and redemption and sacrificing yourself for the greater good? That girl is his chance at redemption, maybe his last one. They need each other way more than they need me."

"You love him." It's not a question. It's a statement like pointing at the clouds gathering on the horizon and announcing there will be a storm— obvious and beyond a shadow of a doubt.

"Let them go. Please." You breathe. David sits silently, tapping his fingers together, before standing and wordlessly walking through the door he came in from. A tear falls from your eye, but you quickly wipe it on your shirt sleeve. You listen for voices as the building creaks against the force of the blizzard outside before twisting your wrists against the rope. The burn makes you grit your teeth, but the slow loosening is enough for you to continue.

You don't have a plan for getting out of here alive, only a plan for distracting David long enough for Ellie to escape and find Joel. They can take care of each other. They'll finish what we started. They'll be okay. You repeat it like a gospel, like a blind truth that you have to follow because you can't afford to think differently. You hope she understands that this is the last thing you want. That if you could've kept her safe forever, you would've. That abandoning her and Joel was never in the cards. You hope she knows that you love her.

Ellie shouts from the other room, but you can't make out her words. The silence that follows makes you sick to your stomach. You would take her nonstop talking over this eerie stillness. Your fingers search for a weak spot in the ropes as blood drips down your hands.

"Hey!" A gruff voice rings out from the other side of the room, and you freeze. One of David's men walks over to stand in front of you, a heavy semi-automatic weapon in his hands. When you look down the barrel, a gold bullet stares back at you, but you can't look away.

"Did you find him?" You ask. Something uncertain flickers behind his eyes, and that's enough of an answer. There's a chance, however minuscule, that he's alive and out there and trying to find both of you. A dull and dangerous ball of hope forms between your broken ribs. "We can end this here. If you just let us go, we can put this all behind us."

"And if I don't? You'll what? Kill us just like you killed Alec?"

"Oh, no. You'd be lucky to die as fast as he did," you say. "After what you did to her, you really think I'd just let you die that easily? I'll rip all your fucking teeth out of your skull and feed them to you before I even think about putting a bullet in your head." Terror flashes across his face, but Ellie's screams keep it growing. The man in front of you turns toward the sound, giving you a window to slip your hands from the loose ropes and grab at his gun. You push it up and away from him, a stray bullet singing through the air and hitting the ceiling. He shoves you back, and the chair breaks as you hit the ground so hard that you see stars.

David rushes in from the other room, blood splattering his clothes— her blood. He looks pissed as he assesses the situation, holding his hand tightly. "I offer you a home here, and this is what you do," Your molars buzz as molten rage rolls off you. David lunges at you, grabbing your face with one hand and holding up the other so you can see his broken finger. You try to squirm away from him, but his grip is tight enough for your jaw to creak with the threat of it shattering. "Look what she fucking did to me! You think you're going to get any sympathy now?" His breath is hot on your face as he shouts, but Ellie's blood is the only thing you care about. You spit in his eyes and wrestle out of his grasp, reaching for a piece of splintered wood. A warning shot fires by your ear before you can lift it, and splitting, ringing pain slices through your brain.

Your heart beats in your face as you try to army crawl further away, shaking your head hard like it will release the muffled pain. A swift kick to your ribs knocks you down, and you roll onto your back, pressing on the broken rib as you try to breathe. David and David's Bitch (you honestly don't care to learn his name, and that title is more fitting anyway) stare down at you with their guns in your direction. David tsks as he steps forward to stand over you, too close for your comfort. You move to put space between you, but he kicks you again. You gasp and bite your tongue hard enough to taste blood.

"I can't wait for your guy to show up so he can see just how pathetic you actually are." He threatens and you laugh, spitting blood.

"Trust me, he's the least of your fucking problems right now." You say, planting your hands behind you to push yourself off the floor. The butt of a pistol cracks across your skull before you can get far.

"No!" Ellie's voice jolts you awake. Your vision is blurry, and the throbbing pain in your body makes you nauseous, but none of that matters as much as she does. Her screams are the stuff of nightmares, helpless and scared out of her fucking mind. You push off the floor, forcing yourself to walk toward the sound until your foot stops moving. You look down to find a rope tied around your right foot, connecting you to one of the pillars in the middle of the room.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck." You say as you bend down to try pulling it off of you. There's no time. She needs you now. Tears form in your eyes as the rope burns the skin around your ankle, drawing blood. You look around for a knife, glass, anything to help you cut it but find nothing. She's stopped screaming, but that doesn't do anything to stop you from trying to get to her. The blood dripping into your socks makes the rope slippery and stains your hands when you finally get it off. You stand so fast that you get a headrush but don't stop until Ellie's body collides with yours. She's covered in blood and almost screams until she realizes who you are.

"I... I thought. I heard..." She says, clutching your shirt in between her hands. You shake your head as you grab her and run to the doors. They barely budge as you try to push them open, and Ellie grabs your hand, running into the kitchen. She's shaking, and her hair is a mess as she looks around for something to fight with.

"Ellie, we need to go. We can't stay here." You say as she grabs a smoldering log.

"Cover me." She says, barely looking at you before rushing back out to hide near the door. You grab a knife and duck under a nearby table as David walks in with a bloody cleaver. You grip the knife closer, hoping to slash his Achilles tendon as he walks by when Ellie pops up and throws the log at David's head. The curtain behind him catches fire as you try to track her movements. She stays low and quiet, just like Joel taught her, and you have half a mind to be proud of her for listening.

"There's no way out," David calls as the fire travels up the curtain to the ceiling. He's pacing calmly away from you as the building starts to go up in flames around us. "All the doors are locked, and I have the keys. Nobody is coming to save you, Ellie." You move to the kitchen once his back is turned to you, hoping to find a bottle or bigger knife to distract him. Ellie meets your eyes across the room, and you nod at her, a silent reassurance that you will not let anything happen to her. You find a half-full bottle of wine and quickly dump it down the drain as David rambles about something. You stay low as you look out the kitchen window and throw the bottle to the other side of the room, the last bits of alcohol making the flames grow bigger. You duck when David turns toward the sound and walk back to the swinging door, waiting for the right moment to come out.

A piece of ceiling falls in front of the door, and flames lick under it, just as you hear Ellie stab David. You turn to jump through the kitchen window when one of David's guys enters the room and locks eyes with you. You've got to be fucking kidding me. You swing the knife at him, slicing his arm as he brings his gun up to shoot. The long shotgun pushes at your chest and sends you backward as blood pours from his arm. You hit the edge of the counter hard but stay up and swinging. The man grunts right in your face, and the fire is tearing the building apart, but all you hear is Ellie. She's screaming louder than you've ever heard, and she's calling for you, for help. You swing the knife once more and hit something squishy that gives. The man sobs in pain, and you dig the knife further into his eye until he stops twitching.

Once he hits the ground, you jump through the kitchen window and dive onto the floor below, fire burning your arms as you do. You grip the knife closer to you and stand until you see the full sight of Ellie and David. She's on top of him and hitting him over and over and over again with his cleaver. Blood splatters across her face and clothes as David becomes less of a body and more of a stain. You don't try to stop her. You just drop your knife and slowly walk into her line of sight with your hands up. By the time she stops raising her arms to hack the body, she's crying and breathing hard enough for you to hear her over the flames.

"Ellie," you call, and she jumps like she forgot you were there. The look in her eyes now is so different from the one she gave you earlier when you tried to tell her nothing terrible would happen. It's familiar and heart breaking. She's shaking when you reach for her and pull her off of David. "We need to go, okay? We gotta get out of here." You wrap your arms around her and shield her eyes as you walk past the bodies she left in her wake.

The snow is a welcome relief from the smothering smoke and fire when you leave the building. Ellie stays tucked under your arm, letting you take her weight as you move toward the blue water, away from David and whatever god failed you. Her shoulders fall slack until a pair of arms wrap around us, and she screams again. Your grip on her tightens as she cries and kicks at whoever is trying to grab you. She nearly falls to her knees as the arms spin her around, taking her away from you.

"Hey, look," Joel's voice is soft as he holds her face. You let him take her and take a step back, trying to process that he's alive. "It's me. It's me. It's okay."

"He tried to..." Ellie mumbles, and you have to turn away from them, vomit burning in your throat. You swallow hard as tears fall down your face and do your best to hold your sobs. "He tried to" is a sentence you've heard too many times but never from someone as young as Ellie. He tried to, and you were right there. He tried to, and you couldn't do anything. He tried to, and she was screaming for you. If David weren't already dead and burning, you'd go back and rip his fucking spine out. He tried to.

Joel saying your name makes you turn to see Ellie wrapped in his jacket, a faraway look in her eyes. You take her backpack from him and go to his other side to snake your arm around his back. He's shaking either from fear or pain. You don't know that it matters. Together, you work to get somewhere safe, helping to carry the weight of the past three months silently.

You found an empty house a few miles away from the resort and let Joel clean Ellie up in the bathroom. She clung to him the whole way here, trembling bloody hands wrapped around his middle. The cut on her nose is gnarly, and she has slices on her fingers from gripping the knife she used to kill David. Other than that, she's more mentally scarred than anything. As soon as she was clean and fed with twenty-year-old Spaghetti-O's, she fell asleep on Joel's chest, her bandaged hand resting over his heart as they lay on the floor together. The words you said to David while begging for their lives surround you. They need each other way more than they need me.

You feel like shit now that the adrenaline has died down. There are burns on your forearms, cuts on your hands, bruises swelling your face, and you're pretty sure the hearing in your left ear is permanently fucked. Your head pounds and your ribs twinge in pain when you breathe too deeply, but it's nothing compared to the screams echoing in your mind. They'll probably embed in your brain and repeat themselves for the rest of your life. You've never heard her scream like that— deep in her chest and desperate, like she was praying for someone to hear her and help, to kill the men who put their hands on her and then some.

He tried to.

Joel calls your name softly, but you can't turn to face him. Your eyes stay on the front door, the cool metal of your gun warming under your palm. "You should sleep," Joel murmurs as he puts a comforting hand on your back. He's careful not to jostle Ellie as he rubs circles into your skin. You shake your head as your fingers twitch against the gun.

"I was asleep when she," your voice catches in your throat, and you wipe at your eyes. "I didn't even hear her leave. I can't…."

"She's safe, and she's alive. That's the most important thing."

"I was so fucking scared, Joel. I could hear her screaming, and I couldn't do anything to help her," you sniffle as he tugs at your shirt, making you turn to look at him. His eyes are watery and sad, but he doesn't stop you. "The fucking apocalypse happened, and the scariest thing in the world is still a man who thinks he can take whatever he wants."

"I know, baby."

"I can still hear his voice. I-” He pulls you closer and gently takes the gun out of your hands. Slowly, he makes you lie beside him until you relax and use his bicep as a pillow. You're close enough to count the cuts on Ellie's sleeping face, and you almost wiggle away. Joel feels it and quickly kisses your forehead, his grip on you tightening enough to make you stay.

"Let me lay with my girls," he whispers before you can protest. "Please." You sigh and curl into him, wrapping your arm around his stomach, so your fingers can graze Ellie's arm. He traces patterns into your back as you count Ellie's breaths. Every rise and fall of her chest soothes your anxiety just a little more. Her nose scrunches in her sleep, and she mumbles something as her grip on Joel gets tighter. He shushes her and kisses her forehead, whispering, "we're right here, baby girl," into her temple. Then, probably without even realizing it, she moves her hand until it covers yours, her little fingers squeezing you like she's trying to decide if you're real. You take her hand in yours and squeeze back.

It’s moments like these that make you wonder how you could've gone so long without her. It's moments like these that make you wonder how you could ever go back to the life you had before. It's moments like these that give you a glimpse, a torturous peek, into what could've been. If you had met Joel earlier and had been faster and less guarded, maybe your paths may have crossed sooner. Maybe all those people you loved who died would still be alive somewhere. Maybe nothing would've changed at all.

"I'm so scared of losing her," You tell him, your eyes still stuck to Ellie's face. Joel takes a deep breath and nods. "When did she stop being cargo?"

"She was never just cargo."

"What are we gonna do?"

"We're gonna get her to the Fireflies. They'll do whatever they need, and then, I don't know. We could take her back to Jackson and get her settled. Let her have an actual childhood." He says. A regular, ordinary life with them sounds idyllic, something reserved for people way better than you are.

"What if something bad happens with the Fireflies?"

"Then, we do whatever it takes to keep her alive. Either way, we're gonna finish this."

"Whatever it takes." You echo.

"You should sleep," he says. Your body agrees with him even if you're hesitant. "I'll take the first watch. I've probably had enough sleep to last me, at least, a couple of hours." You stare at him to make sure he's okay to stay up before nodding. You squeeze Ellie's hand again and smoosh your cheek against Joel's shoulder, perfectly wrapped up in both of them. Joel goes back to rubbing your back to lull you to sleep, and all you can hear is their breathing and the birds singing to each other outside. Fireflies, ruthless FEDRA officers, Infected, and religious cults are far enough for you to trust that everything is okay.

"Joel," you say quietly. He hums, and you push yourself up on your elbow to look down at him. "I love you. I don't think I ever told you that, but I want you to know."

"You never had to. I always knew," he says, his eyes sparkling in the moonlight. "I love you, too." You want to say more. You want to say, "I'm sorry it took me so long to admit it. I'm sorry if it's too late. I'm sorry for falling in love with you in this world that makes love a weakness," but you don't. You lean down and kiss him like you've done hundreds of times and try not to think about what will happen tomorrow.

The only thing you care about is the two people you're curled up within an old, mildewy basement in the middle of fucking Colorado because they are your world now. And nothing will take your world away ever again.

🍓

#the last of us #ellie williams #joel and ellie #joel miller x reader #the last of us x reader #joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller the last of us #joel tlou #ellie the last of us #tlou part 1 #tlou fic #tlou angst #joel miller angst #ellie williams angst

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kabie-whump · 3 months

Note

How about another request, if you're up for it? 👀

Whumpee being kidnapped and used as bait for Caretaker. The kicker? Whumpee thinks it's not gonna work, since they and Caretaker got into a big argument before Whumpee was taken, to which Whumper reassures/taunts that Caretaker will come for Whumpee no matter what.

Then, to Whumpee's surprise and horror, Caretaker did come... and fell right into Whumper's trap trying to free Whumpee. 😈

-- @whumperofworlds

Of course pookie! :3 I'm just gonna continue what I wrote for u last time if u don't mind <3 (Just ignore the part where I said Ventis shows up on his own after a week lol)

Definitely ended up way longer than I intended teehee

Content: kidnapping, stress position + bondage, used as bait, child neglect mention, drug addiction + forced relapse, choking, blood, force feeding (not w food though cause ew)

~~~

Ventis takes stock of his condition. A cloth blindfold stretches across his eyes. His shoulders ache; unsurprising considering his hands are tied with a chain that stretches above him, forcing him to stand on his tip-toes to avoid putting too much pressure on his joints. Being unconscious in this position has probably fucked them up already. He much prefers when kidnappers tie him to chairs or leave him lying on the floor.

The next thing Ventis checks for is his magic. Sometimes he gets lucky and his kidnappers will forget to do anything to suppress it. Others will rely on the old-fashioned gag + blindfold + thoroughly bound hands method. And then there was his least favorite: anti-magic enchantments.

He's blindfolded but not gagged. That leaves two options. There's only one way to find out which situation he has found himself in.

Ventis steels himself, then tries to summon a simple lightning spell. As soon as the first draconic word leaves his mouth, pain shoots from the cuffs through his whole body. He cries out and his knees buckle, putting agonizing pressure on his shoulders until he recovers and goes back to balancing on his toes.

Definitely enchanted. Shit.

"Oh, you're awake." It's a woman's voice, coming from somewhere off to his left.

Ventis gasps for air as he takes note of the way her voice echoes. It sounds like they're inside, and it's far cooler than any building should be in the heat wave the city's been experiencing. He's either been taken somewhere very far away, or he's in a basement. Hopefully the latter.

"If it is ransom you seek, you took the wrong Riinturuth. Father will not pay for me."

Ventis has said those words so many times now that he wonders if there's some list of kidnappable nobles somewhere that he needs to get his name removed from. Just because he's the first son does not mean he's the favorite.

"Oh, I know. Don't worry. That's not what this is about."

That's... odd. "What do you mean?"

"Simple. You're going to help me capture the Ventura boy."

Onthyes. Fuck.

That's the thing about having an important father and being close with someone who also has an important father. Double the kidnapping risk. This scenario has only happened once before, and Onthyes appeared in no time and easily overpowered Ventis's captors.

It was kind of hot, if Ventis is being honest.

But that's not going to happen this time. Not after the argument they'd just had. Especially since Ventis had stated very clearly that he didn't want Onthyes protecting him from everything all the time. Oops.

"I will do no such thing."

"But you're already doing it." The woman's voice is just in front of him now. Ventis flinches away from her. "He knows where you are, and when he comes for you he'll be all mine."

"He will not come for me," Ventis assures her. "This is a waste of your time and mine."

Ventis yelps as an open hand strikes his cheek.

"Don't lie," the woman hisses. "I've been watching him. He's protective of you to a fault. He'll come."

"I did not- '' Ventis's words are cut off by a strong hand gripping his throat, making him squeak and choke, barely able to keep his weight on his toes. Claws prick at the delicate skin.

"He'll come," she says again. "And when he does I'm going to make you watch as I tear open his throat."

"No," Ventis chokes out. "Please. Don't hurt him."

The clawed hand releases its hold and Ventis gasps and coughs. His legs shake from the effort to stay up on his toes.

"Here, open your mouth. This'll make you shut up."

Something is pressed to Ventis's lips and he recognizes it immediately by the smooth texture and faintly sweet smell alone. Nightspill. The very same drug he had just fought to free himself from.

He seals his lips tightly, trying to turn his head away despite the urge to open up and accept his return to the blissful numbness the pill offered. He had worked so hard to get sober. Onthyes and Shayah had worked so hard to help him. He can't go back now.

The woman growls, "Stop being difficult," and digs her claws into Ventis's side. He can't help but scream, and she pushes the pill into his mouth and then covers it with her other hand so he can't spit it out. "Swallow," she demands.

Ventis sobs and shakes his head, trying to twist away from her but only succeeding at making his shoulders burn unbearably from the pull of the chains. She digs her claws deeper and pulls, slicing slowly through his skin.

The blindfold soaks up Ventis's tears as he continues to scream and sob and struggle while still doing everything in his power to resist the urge to swallow. The taste is familiar on his tongue. It's so tempting - it would definitely help to dull the pain he's in.

That one stray thought is all it takes. Ventis swallows before he even realizes what he's doing.

The claws retreat from is side and he can feel hot blood streaming down from the wound. The woman pries his teeth apart, searching his mouth with metallic tasting fingers to make sure the pill is really gone. Ventis tries to bite, but he's too slow and winds up snapping his jaw on nothing.

"There." Ventis's captor sounds entirely unbothered as she steps away. "Maybe that will help you calm down."

Ventis feels panic waking up somewhere deep in his stomach and struggling to fight its way to the surface, but it dies out before his heart rate can even begin to pick up. He's left feeling fuzzy and peaceful and devastated all at the same time.

"Now all we have to do is wait."

They wait for a long time. Ventis's legs shake uncontrollably. His hands go cold and tingly and then numb. The nightspill wants nothing more than to lull him to sleep but every time he starts to doze off he loses concentration on standing on his toes and a blinding pain in his shoulders rips him back to consciousness.

Onthyes isn't coming. Ventis wonders how long it'll take for his captor to realize that and just kill him.

Then- "Let him go!"

Ventis jolts. "Onthyes?" He croaks. That absolute idiot. Does he not know a setup when he sees one? "What are you doing? Get out of here!"

Armor clunks loudly as Onthyes runs up to him. A gloved hand touches his cheek, then pulls off the blindfold.

Ventis blinks spots out of his vision, everything slowly coming into focus as Onthyes fusses over him. "Run," he insists weakly. "Please."

Onthyes ignores him, his brow furrowed as he examines the chains. "I need to find the key. Hang in there."

An involuntary laugh bubbles out of Ventis. "Hah, hang? That is all I can do, my friend."

Onthyes just sighs and shakes his head as he turns away.

That's when Ventis's captor strikes. She emerges from a shadowy corner and pounces on Onthyes, all sharp claws and jagged teeth that barely fit behind her red lips.

Onthyes yelps and staggers backwards as she clings to his back, her claws searching for any holes in his armor. After finding nothing she turns her attention to pulling his hair so hard his head hits a nearby stone wall and he falls to one knee.

Pounding footfalls, followed by a battlecry and the appearance of a hulking half-orc woman - Shayah. "I told you to fucking wait for me," she yells as she rips Onthyes's attacker from his back and throws her across the room. She hits the opposite wall hard and goes still.

Onthyes rushes over to Ventis as Shayah retrieves the key to the cuffs. She barely has to reach to unlock them.

Even nightspill can't dull the pain that follows as Ventis finally lowers his arms and lands on flat feet for the first time in hours.

Sensation rushes back into his limbs and he screams. Onthyes is there to catch him when his knees buckle, holding him and whispering something along the lines of, "It's okay. You're okay. I've got you. I'm so sorry. Just breathe. You're okay."

When the pain finally recedes some Ventis is left gasping and trembling. He lets Onthyes lower him to the floor, too exhausted to support his own weight anymore. Shayah begins to check him over, using some scraps of fabric to stem the bleeding from the claw marks in his side.

She makes eye contact with Ventis, then pauses, a look of concern crossing her face. "Are you on something?" she asks softly, cupping his cheek.

Ventis gives a tired nod. "Nightspill. I'm sorry," he sobs. "I-I didn't want to. She made me."

"Shit," Shayah and Onthyes mutter at the same time.

"I'm sorry," Ventis repeats. "I tried. I really tried."

Onthyes brushes Ventis's hair from his sweaty forehead. "It's alright. We're not upset with you. We'll take care of you."

Onthyes's kind words don't help, not when the echoes of their argument from last night still haunt Ventis. "I-I thought you wouldn't come. After last night-"

"Last night's not important. I'll always come for you. Always. I..." Onthyes looks away, shaking his head. "I should've walked with you. I'm so sorry."

"Alright, boys." Shayah claps her hands, getting both of their attention. "You can wallow in guilt and pretend not to be in love with each other later. Let's get out of here."

"Right." Onthyes takes Ventis into his arms carefully and lifts him up, and Ventis finally nods off with his head lolling against Onthyes's shoulder.

~~~

Next Part

Ventisposting taglist: @scp-1296 @sapphicccici @acer-gaysimpstuff @morning-star-whump @yeetmyskeet @rainydaywhump

@unicornbeck @whumperofworlds

#whump #whump community #whump tropes #whump writing #whumpblr #whump scenario #whumpee #whump ideas #nonhuman whumpee #nonhuman whumper #tw kidnapping #stress position #drug whump #tw drugs #fantasy whump #whumpee x caretaker #ventisposting #ventis

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disastersareajoy · 11 months

Text

The Shower Incident

Stu x Billy x FEM!Reader

Tags: Sex toy, masturbation, voyeurism for a sec, dirty stuff happens in the shower obviously, dirty talk, degradation, praise, lots of kissing, marking, handjob, edging, begging, slight dacryphilia, mention of denial, mention of being tied up, mention of oral (fem receiving, and giving to a toy), mention of double penetration, mention of anal (fem and male receiving), open end, Sub!Reader, Dom!Billy, implied Switch!Stu but mostly Sub!Stu

Hiya babes!

I had this idea and it wouldn't leave me alone the entire day so I wrote it down and if I do say so myself: This shit is pretty hot.

I'm super glad my first public fic is with these two idiots because I love them to the moon and back and cannot get enough of them. I hope you enjoy this wild ride - I know I did. I wrote this in like an hour and then proofread it four times total, but English isn't my first language so if you see any mistakes feel free to (politely) let me know and I will fix it. Same as any tags I missed. Of course, non mistake related comments are also very welcomed. I hope you thouroughly enjoy this product of my brain rot! Let me know what ya think.

Stu and Billy had been away for a few days and you were needy. Wanting to be bent over and fucked hard and rough, four hands gripping at your body and manipulating you into whatever position they desire. They were supposed to come back in the evening so you wanted to take a shower before then.

That's when the idea struck.

You practically stumbled over your own feet to get to the closet and pull out the box of toys the three of you had accumulated over time.

You picked out your favorite dildo and quickly made your way to the bathroom. With the help of the suction cup the toy stuck to the shower wall. After cleaning yourself in record speed you bent over and pushed back onto the dildo. It filled you slowly and stretched you perfectly. Your wetness made the intrusion easy but the thickness of the toy still made you pause, and forced you to take a couple of deep breaths. Although it wasn't long before you were fucking yourself back onto it and completely loosing your mind in the process. Moaning their names and begging into the empty room.

At the same time Billy and Stu were on their way up to your shared apartment. The two of them decided to surprise you by coming home a couple hours early so you could eat dinner together and cuddle up in front of the TV.

When they came through the front door and weren't immediately met with your smiling face, kissing and hugging them in greeting, they were a bit perplexed.

That was until they heard the shower running.

And then they heard a litany of moans, accompanied by a loud slapping sound of skin against tile. They shared a look and ventured closer to the bathroom door which you had left open a crack in your hurry to fuck yourself.

The sight they find absolutely takes their breath away. The shower is on and water is hitting your back as you're bent over nothing, supporting yourself with your hands against the wall as you continuously slam your ass back onto the dildo stuck to the tile wall. They can see the toy glistening with your wetness and someone lets out a groan. You don't hear it and keep moving your hips with a clearly desperate and already fucked out sway to it.

They're both stuck in their spot, staring at the divine sight that is you. The way your body moves to get the perfect angle of the dildo, your thighs trembling with exertion and your hand aimlessly sliding against the wet wall, trying desperately to hold onto something. The way your pussy stretches to accommodate for the thickness of what they recognize as your favorite dildo. The one that you love sucking on when they both have you filled. Or that you love for them to fuck you with when they're getting your ass ready and you already need your pussy filled.

The dildo that's been in all of your holes to help pleasure, tease, edge and make you cum. They can't get enough of watching you throw yourself onto the dildo, making such loud and obscene noises.

What finally gets them to snap out of the trance your body has put them in is your next moan.

“Billy, please.” You interrupt yourself with another desperate whine. “Fuck, please fuck me harder. I need you so bad. Oh my god, Stu.” You elongate the end of Stu's name with a loud moan that's closer to a sob if anything. With the way your hips tilted, Billy suspects you found the perfect angle to hit that special spot inside you. Next to him, Stu breathes out a small moan and looks at Billy with a plea in his eyes.

“Go.”

With the okay given, Stu bursts through the door and is on you in no time. He grabs your face in both hands and barely sees your eyes open in surprise before he has his mouth pressed to yours. Desperately making out with you while making sure you're still fucking yourself onto the dildo. He mumbles out praises between kisses, not able to stop himself from telling you how good you look.

"You look delicious. Fucking yourself so desperately, moaning our names like we're here with you. You that pent up, baby? It's been three days and you're so needy you start fucking yourself how you want us to fuck you, huh?”

“But it's not the same, is it?”

Now Billy joins in as well. He already stripped out of his clothes, completely naked and palming at his erection while Stu kneels halfway under the spray of water, drenching his clothes. You mewl a negative, not trusting yourself with words. Afraid that if you pull away from Stu and open your mouth the only thing coming out would be pleas and their names.

“No. Even though our good little slut is filled to the brim by a toy and is fucking herself just as fast as we do, she still can't quite get it right. Can you, doll?”

You make a non-committal noise and place your hands on Stu's shoulders, thankful to have something to hold on to. Billy is unsatisfied with your wordless answer and grabs Stu by his hair, pulling his head back to expose his long neck, stopping you from hiding in his kisses. Stu whines long and loud before staring back at you, desperation clear in his eyes.

“Please baby, answer him.”

“Aww. Would you look at that? At least one whore here remembers his manners.”

Billy leans down to press hungry kisses onto Stu's mouth. Both of them moaning into each other's mouth, making you want even more. You mewl and whine at the display in front of you. Billy pulls away from Stu's mouth with a grin that he then turns on you.

“You better start using your words. Or he's gonna get all the attention and you can watch without touching yourself. And cumming will be completely off the table.” With that he attaches his mouth to Stu's neck, kissing up and down, sucking marks into the soft skin and biting. Which makes Stu let out the most beautiful array of whines and moans you've ever heard.

“Please,” you manage to breathe out.

“Please, what?” Billy still has his face in Stu's neck while answering, not letting his mouth detach for long. You whine and can't help yourself from slowing down your movements to gather your thoughts long enough to form a sentence.

“Please, Billy. Please fuck me. Both of you. I need you so bad, please ” Billy pulls away from Stu and grabs your jaw hard with his hand, turning your face in his direction. He gets close to you and smirks. “There she is. That's the good little whore we've been waiting to fuck for three days.” He doesn't let you answer before attaching his lips to yours and making you moan into his mouth. He lets go of your jaw and grabs your shoulders instead, shoving you back onto the dildo, hard. You moaned into his mouth as he forces you to start fucking yourself again. Distantly, you hear Stu whine as he kneels in front of you and waits for his turn to be kissed again.

Once you have a steady rhythm going again, Billy pulls away. He looks at you with a grin and you could tell he has something planned.

“Now, I asked you a question. And you didn't answer. Instead, you made out with this little attention whore next to me.” A moan from Stu. “But I want you to answer my question. I will not repeat it, and neither will Stu. You're gonna have to use your big girl brain and remember what I asked you. And you're not gonna stop fucking yourself on that dildo. If you slow down you don't get to cum. If you stop you get to watch, tied up and gagged as I fuck Stu into the mattress.” A whine from Stu. “But if you keep going and answer me correctly,” his grin widens and he leans back slightly. “Then you get exactly what you want.”

You moan, frustrated that you don't immediately remember what he asked you. While you're desperately trying to remember the question and not slow down your hips, Billy starts helping Stu get his wet clothes off. He also shuts off the water which leaves your skin cooling down rapidly, goosebumps appearing on your skin and sending shivers down your spine.

Once he has all of Stu's clothes off, he kneels behind him and starts palming his dick. Slowly but firmly taking it in hand and stroking him up and down. Stu lets his head fall back onto Billy's shoulder and moans unabashedly at how good he feels. How good Billy is making him feel. The sight makes your concentration waver. Your mind is completely empty, safe for the two beautiful men in front of you. The way their hair sticks to their foreheads, Billy looking at you with hunger in his eyes and that feral edge. Stu squeezes his eyes shut as he softly starts thrusting into Billy's hand. Usually that would have earned him a slap to the thighs and a warning, but right now all Billy wanted was to tease you.

He takes pity on you as Stu grows closer and closer, holding onto Billy and you with one hand each.

“I'll give you a little hint, darling. How does the dildo feel?” Suddenly his words sprang back into your mind.

“Even though our good little slut is filled to the brim by a toy and is fucking herself just as fast as we do, she still can't quite get it right. Can you, doll?”

You immediately scramble for an answer.

“Fuck, Billy.”

“Good start.”

You whine once more as your hips desperately try to keep up the pace Billy had set for you.

“I can't get it right,” you sob in frustration as your wetness drips down your legs. With the shower turned off you can be sure it was the juices of your pussy that are making such obscene noises and dripping slowly down your thighs.

Billy gives Stu's sensitive tip extra attention, making the tall man writhe in his place on Billy's lap. He moans as a blush spreads down his chest. “That's right doll, you can't. But why? And you better hurry because if Stu cums before you answer, you're watching.” He chuckles at your frustrated groan and speeds up his hand on Stu's cock.

“I- oh my fuckin God. I can't get it right because-” Stu moans loud and desperate, getting closer each second. “Because it's not hard enough.” Billy hums long, considering your answer. “Yes. But why?” You groan again, this time louder and with more annoyance behind it. “Careful,” Billy spoke low and with warning.

With one last whine you focus all your concentration on your words and close your eyes. “I can't get it right because you fuck me so much harder and I can't fake that. I need your hands on my hips as you pull me into every thrust and I need you to speak to me, to call me names and to tell me I'm doing good. I need you to pound into me like I'm your personal toy and I can't fake that with a dildo, please. Please fuck me like I need you to. I'm begging you Billy, please.”

You prepare yourself to hear Billy ask you for another, better answer, but it didn't come. Instead you hear Stu's sob and whine as he is denied his orgasm. No doubt having been right on the edge. When you open your eyes again, Stu looks back at you with tired, teary eyes and his mouth hanging open. Billy on the other hand looks absolutely feral. His eyes have a certain glint in it that tells you that you are in for a ride.

He reaches out to touch your cheek and strokes his thumb over your skin. “That's a good girl. And just in time too.” He softly pushes Stu to sit on the shower floor and keeps a leg behind his back to help him stay upright while he pulls on your shoulders to stop you from continuing to fuck yourself on your dildo. “Now, you have 5 minutes to help Stu get up and get both of your asses to the bedroom. I want you on the bed, legs spread and ready with Stu right between them. He gets to make you extra worked up with his mouth as a bit of revenge for his edge.” At that, Stu hums satisfied and lets out a chuckle.

“I'm gonna watch him edge you however often he sees fit, and then we're both going to fuck you. Nice and hard.” Billy grabs your jaw and pulls you in for a quick kiss before staring at you an inch away from your face. “Because I know that's what our little whore craves. Isn't it?” You nod eagerly and correct yourself with a quick “Yes sir,” before Billy can say anything.

As soon as Billy lets go of your jaw and nods his head towards the bathroom door, you're scrambling to help Stu on his feet, your own knees still wobbly.

Billy watches as the two of you slowly make your way to the bedroom with shaky legs, sees how wet your thighs are and how there's still more dripping out of your glistening pussy. He watches Stu grab your ass, squeezing the flesh beneath his finger in a way that is sure to be a promise of all the teasing that's to come. He truly can't wait to see Stu ruin you with his mouth before they fuck you until you can't remember your own name.

God, he loves the both of you so much.

---

Please don't repost or reupload this fic anywhere else. It's mine and I'd love to keep it that way.

#this was supposed to be a quick ramble #and then it got horribly away from me #so you're welcome i guess?#anyways these two have me in a chokehold today and this idea just wouldn't leave me alone #Stu Macher x Reader #Billy Loomis x Reader #Stu Macher x Billy Loomis #Stu Macher x Billy Loomis x Reader #Fem!Reader #Slasher smut #Stu Macher smut #Billy Loomis smut #brain rot #someone take my phone away pls #if this is well received i'll make a second part with Stu more in focus #because he was a little more passive in this one #i just realized no one cums in this #oops???

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sayafics · 2 months

Text

As, Bs and Cs - Chapter II

Masterlist

Previous Chapter

Alara laid awake, listening to the sound of Rick's breathing. The world outside his window was quiet and dark, so he was all she could see and hear.

Her wrists and ankles ached as she fought quietly against the steel wrapped tightly around them, the chain that anchored her to the bed clinking quietly as she tried to force the cuffs to slip off. She knew it wouldn't work, but she had to try.

They were tight, too tight. It seemed Beale continued to learn from his mistakes and did everything in his power to keep her tied down and trapped. She had slipped from her cuffs once before, broken her thumb and slid free of the manacles, only to tie them around a guard's neck when he came in to stop her - then she broke his neck too.

She had thought she won, that she had the chance to escape. But then another guard came. And another. And another. Until there was too many of them and too little of her.

She had been beaten into submission at that moment, and a part of her knew she deserved it for having taken another life. Still, she vowed when they let their guard down she would do it again and take more.

She shuffled on the bed, trying to move onto her back but the short distance between her cuffs and chain only left her lying awkwardly. She groaned heavily, twisting until she could sit up on her knees.

Alara brought her face down to her hands, scrubbing her face to wipe away the sleep that never came as she thought to herself.

The sun would rise soon and the ticking clock would start again, and no amount of listening to the soldier's breaths would slow it down.

Alara was doomed.

Unless...

She looked over at Rick's sleeping form, her brow's furrowing at the peaceful expression on his face. How could he feel calm in a moment like this? How could he feel safe knowing he was stuck in the Civic Republic? How could he sleep knowing she was only inches away, likely planning his death in the most painful way?

Still, she couldn't help but appreciate how gentle he looked in that moment; his skin flushed to a healthy colour and the ever present frown had softened. Although, it probably helped that his eyes were closed and she couldn't stare into those blue eyes of his.

Something about them always seemed so- sad. And she wondered for a moment why he was so placative with his life here, when it brought him nothing but misery.

It didn't matter, she thought to herself. All that mattered was escaping, and what better time than now. Beale wouldn't expect it, he'd think he beat her into submission long ago and that Rick's presence was enough to deter any nuisance.

He was wrong.

"Hey-" she coughed as her throat grew dry, still trying to adjust to finally being able to talk at will.

"Rick," her words grew elongated, and she would refuse to admit they almost bordered a whine, "wake up."

It was the first time she had spoken his name, and it slipped off her tongue with ease. She shuffled to the edge of the bed, huffing and rolling her eyes as she stepped onto the cold floor to wake up the sleeping beast.

Some soldier he was.

Some dream he must be having, to not want to wake up to her voice.

A chill ran up her legs as she stumbled closer to him. Lucky for her, he had made his bed close to her own, so when her leash refused to give her any more leeway, she only needed to kneel down to get closer.

Alara couldn't get close enough to touch him, she didn't think she wanted to. She admired him from her position above, the scattered freckles across his face, the small scar on the bridge of his nose, the way his lips twitched even in his sleep and his lashes fluttered like he was dreaming of someone who was likely a stranger to her.

She leaned as close to his ear as she could get, ready to scream his name so the man would leap up from his makeshift bed of blankets and sheets and do what she wanted.

But it had been a long time since she was given freedom like this, a long time since she had an opportunity to listen to the familiar whispers of a life long gone. She smirked to herself, the corners of her eyes crinkling as they filled with mischief.

She held her breath by his ear, unable to stop her twitching lips as she shouted into his ear - "boo!"

Rick flinched harshly in his sleep, his hand reaching for the blade hidden under his pillow to hold it against the culprit. His eyes had barely focused in the dark, his knife pressed against someone's throat as it trembled under the sound of their breaths and... laughter.

It wasn't the first time Alara had a knife held against her throat and she was sure it wouldn't be the last. But this may be her last time being able to enjoy something so childish and mischievous without fear of what comes next.

She could feel the harsh sting of a blade against her throat, but still, her laughter bubbled through in unrelenting streams of giggles as she huffed apologies to the man. She had never apologised before, not really. But she felt she didn't mind this time.

Rick felt his heart pause for a moment as laughter filled the apartment, and suddenly it all came rushing back.

Beale, Greer, Okafor. The girl. The trial.

He found himself unable to move, unable to focus on anything but the bright laughter that filled his ears. When was the last time he had heard something so care-free, so loud and true and hopeful.

Here she was, fated to a life where everything was stripped from her all the way down to her ability to 'yes'. And still she found a reason to laugh.

Rick thought it must've been before Carl died that he had felt something so light and hopeful in the sounds that whisked around him. And he realised again how much he had lost in such a short amount of time.

He cleared his throat roughly, flipping the knife in his hand so the sharp end was faced away before he pressed his fingers onto her head, pushing her away from him as he growled under his breath.

She only shook her head to remove his hand in response, "hey, it's not my fault you're a deep sleeper."

He clicked his tongue, glancing at his watch to find it was only four in the morning. He didn't need to be up for another three hours, and he rarely got enough sleep as it was.

"What the hell do you need in the middle of the night?" He couldn't help the way he raised his voice, glaring at the girl as frustration ate at him.

Rick could sense her pout, even in the dark.

"I need to pee. And considering you've left me chained to the bed," she shook the manacles for emphasis, "I thought it'd be better to call you instead of sleep in my own urine. That wouldn't be fun for either of us."

He only scoffed in response, pushing himself to his feet before wrapping his hands around the cuffs on her wrist to pull her up to.

"Hey! Be gentle," she huffed as she yanked her hands out of his grip, only for him to reach out and hold them tighter.

He tutted, stepping closer as he leaned down to whisper in her ears, "be a good girl and shut up before someone hears you. Unless you want me to find something better than that muzzle of yours to keep it shut."

Alara wrinkled her nose in the dark, blindly reaching out to kick him in the shin, making him drop her hands and grunt in response. Rick could only huff, muttering under his breath as he rounded her figure to switch on the bedside lamp.

A gloomy orange light filled the room, so bright that Alara turned away from the source with her eyes screwed shut. It seemed the glaring light didn't effect Rick in the same way.

The man only continued to grumble under his breath, and she was sure he was calling her every insult he could think of for disturbing his beauty sleep. She only teetered on the spot, leaning back and forth on the tips of her toes and heels of her feet as she waited for him to release her from the bed.

Alara tried not to hide her disappointment as he kept her attached to the chain, barely speaking a word as he tugged her towards another door within the room to open it up to the bathroom.

The bathroom was clean, organised- almost empty. Apart from the toothbrush in a holder on the sink, there was no other sign someone used it much. Although, knowing he was part of the CRM, she knew he was probably too busy running around killing people to make this place into a home.

She had noticed how even his apartment was sparse of furniture, bare of life. As though he wasn't planning on staying long, planning to leave the first opportunity he got. But it was Rick who had told her the CRM was impossible to escape from, so she knew that her thoughts couldn't be true.

It must be the soldier in him.

She felt a tug on her manacles, head lifting to meet Rick's impatient gaze.

"C'mon, don't got all day."

His words were slurred with sleep, and she hoped it was a sign he would move the same, react too slow. She nodded softly, walking towards the toilet and felt no laxity in the chain. She turned to face Rick, a pointed stare in her eyes as she tipped her head towards the door.

The man only laughed, "I'm not an idiot, sweetheart. Can't leave you alone."

She frowned, both in embarrassment as her cheeks flushed pink in the golden shadows that peeked in from the bedroom, and frustration.

"Well, I can't pee with you in here."

He only raised an eyebrow in return, causing her to huff whilst she shifted her weight between her feet wondering what she could say to get him to leave, to get him to let his guard down.

"Call it what you like, I get performance anxiety so could you leave and let me do my business alone?"

It was perhaps the most she's spoken in the last few years, and the stain on her cheeks had travelled down her chest as the words spilt out freely.

"Not happening," she could see a faint smirk growing on his face as he turned his back to her. Rick glanced over his shoulder, and she was sure she could almost see pity in his eyes as his voice softened slightly - "this is the best I can do. I can't leave you alone, it sa-"

"'Says it in the guide'. So you keep saying - didn't stop you from keeping the muzzle off."

He could hear the way her eyes rolled of she spoke, and he gritted his teeth at her words. She was right, he had already blatantly ignored the guide, why not once more.

But he didn't know what she was capable of. Didn't know what she could do when she wasn't tied down and unable to reach objects she could use to kill him.

He thought of every loose tile hidden in the bathroom, every crevice and crack where he hid a blade or a bullet or a gun.

No.

It wasn't the guide that made him stay here and turn his back, it was the truth of what he was. He wasn't a soldier for the CRM.

He was a father. A brother. A friend.

He was a man who simply wanted to return home and she couldn't know that.

"Just hurry up and pee before I change my mind."

She scoffed, but did as she was told anyway. The movements were awkward and stilted with the manacles, the quiet jingling being the only sound to fill the silence. When she was finally done and stood from the toilet to pull up the soft shorts Rick had given her, which had been very difficult to manoeuvre under the manacles, to sleep in, she cleared her throat quietly after flushing.

Rick shifted slightly, ready to turn back to her and pull her back to the bedroom so he could sleep for a few more hours before dawn. Before he could move, the chain in his arm was pulled taut, and he braced himself for what was coming.

There was a harsh blow against the back of his legs, bringing him to his knees as the chain of the manacles was tied harshly around his throat. He only had a heartbeat to prepare himself and breathe.

Rick could feel the concealed anger behind her grip, even as she whispered a quiet sorry into the air between them. He wishes he could have also told her the same.

He grunts, unable to slip his fingers under the chain as pressure begins to build in his head and he wonders how many times she had done this before to have done it with such ease.

Don't let the subject roam freely. The manacles must remain attached to a solid surface.

He had almost laughed with incredulity when he had read those words in the guide, but now he knew why.

He couldn't take in another breath, his skin burning hot under the cool chain.

No. Not like this. He wouldn't die like this.

His vision began to cloud, breaths spluttered as she pulled tighter. It only made him more frantic. He threw his weight forward, giving into the pressure of the chain as she flew over his shoulder and landed on her back with a thud.

Rick coughed haphazardly when the chain had loosened and fell as she groaned on the ground, writhing on her back. Before he had time to get to his feet, she twisted onto her knees. Her eyes were wet, red-rimmed and full of rage.

But she wasn't angry at Rick. She didn't think she could be. But he was part of the CRM and she hated everything he was an extension of. So if she had to kill him to escape the CRM, she would.

She growled under her breath, her hands still locked in the manacles and Rick still holding onto the chain. She tugged him forward with vicious glee, the sleek tiles making it easy for him to slide forward a few inches.

A few inches was all the leeway she needed. She reared her fist back, ready to place all her strength into one blow, and then another, and another, and another. Until he gave up and stopped and she could run.

It seemed as though fate had other plans in store.

Rick kicked her legs out from under her, yanking on the chains with barely contained anger as he grunted against her harsh kicks.

He gritted his teeth, grabbing her waist tightly to hold her against the ground. She wanted to scream in his face, let out years of frustration with an agonising yell. But she couldn't risk more of them coming.

She couldn't risk not winning.

Despite the chain not giving way, she pulled tightly against the manacles, uncaring of the stinging and pain. She scratched him wherever she could, praying it would be enough.

Needing it to be enough.

Rick swore under his breath as she scratched at his neck, so sure he would find red marks littering his skin.

He threw an arm over her hip, stopping her from trying to buck off his form even though he knew it would be impossible. His hand reached to take hold of her wrists, barely holding back a growl as he pressed them tightly against the cold tiles above her head.

The short chain between the manacles on her wrists and the manacles on her ankles caused her to bring her legs up to relieve the pain and accommodate the forced position.

Her eyes glinted with something quiet and bright, and Rick could feel her hips shifting way as she got ready to kick him from any angle she could find.

Rick knew she couldn't escape. Alara knew she couldn't either. But she would hurt him and continue to do so for as long as she could. As long as she had to.

He stopped her before she could even try, leaning over her as his hips pried open the space between her legs and he pressed his weight across her body.

"Give up."

His voice was gruff, barely out of breath whilst she panted in anger and fatigue. It only seemed to make her grow more agitated, twisting and turning in his grip, promising his death and torture.

Then begging.

And pleading.

And praying.

"Let me go-"

Her eyes shone with tears as she tried to steady her breath, unable to stop twisting and pulling and trying.

"I can't."

"Yes you can," her chest heaved with every pant, Rick's heart sinking with guilt as he felt her struggle to compose herself. She thought he was the only thing between her and her chance to escape.

But Rick knew better. If she left this apartment, she would never make it back. And whether it was because she was killed, or because they had assigned her to another soldier - he feared he would never know.

Not until decades had passed, and he was still just as trapped as she was, probably Command Sergant Major, if Okafor ever succeeded in his plans. And he would look across from him, looking upon recruits bred from Greer's programme to see scattered reflections of Alara that were distorted by the men Greer had forced upon her.

No.

He had made Okafor a promise.

It wasn't right- he knew that. But it was the closest he could get to it.

"You know I can't. You gotta stop, sweetheart."

They both paused at the slip of his tongue, and the hot tears finally slipped down Alara's face. His voice sounded so kind and so foreign, but she could see it for what it was. A trap.

The CRM had trapped Rick and now he had trapped her. And as long as the CRM had their claws in him, she was never getting away.

She relaxed under him minutely, pushing back her shoulders as she tried to roll out the tension from her muscles.

Seconds ticked by, Rick waiting to see if she would lash out again. Instead, she tried to avoid his gaze, her breaths quiet and shallow as she tried to ignore the invasive scent of earth, leather, and whiskey.

Tried to ignore that his body was pressed firmly against her own, his hips slotted between her thighs as she wore nothing but the thin cotton shorts he had given her.

It was as though the thoughts had triggered something subconscious inside of her, finally writhing underneath his unrelenting form.

She grew warm underneath him, a tingling sensation running down her body to burn exactly where he pressed against her. Her breaths shuttered, fresh tears still ran down her face, only growing more precarious as she shunned herself for her bodily reactions.

She tried to remind herself it was okay, that it was just her body reacting and it had nothing to do with how she felt.

She wondered if it would be like this when Rick truly had to touch her in initmate ways. Would she have to repeat these words like a fervent prayer, and hope she believed them one day?

It had been so long since she had been touched, so long since she had been held. And here was Rick, pressed up against her so firmly, his breath fanning over her face as he waited for her to give him a sign she had given up. Here was Rick, unable to hurt her - truly hurt her, despite all the pain she's already caused.

"You done now?"

His voice was a whisper, his breath warm as it brushed over her face. She could feel her cheeks flush because of it and hoped the bedroom light wasn't strong enough to cast the bathroom bright enough so he could see.

Her limbs were trembling, the adrenaline slowly wearing off as her tears finally stopped falling. She didn't think she had many tears left in her. She had thought they stopped a long time ago, but perhaps she had simply accepted her situation then.

It was different now. Now she wasn't in a cell, locked deep and far from all civilisation.

Now the world lived right outside of Rick's window, and it wasn't fair to keep her locked in here whilst they lived out there.

They were just as much of a prisoner as she was.

Rick was just as much of a prisoner as she was.

And yet, she suffered so much more.

She had thought she would find a second chance in the Civic Republic. But she had simply run out of all her lives, hanging on by a thread until this opportunity had been handed to her on a silver platter.

She couldn't stop. Couldn't give up.

Chances like these didn't come from luck.

She looked at Rick, meeting his eyes with a brightly lit flame hidden in her own.

"I'm done."

But she knew those words were a lie.

From the way Rick huffed a breath, a ghost of a smile upon his lips as his eyes narrowed in curiosity, she knew he probably thought the same.

Rick didn't know what to make of the girl that lay beneath him. She felt so small underneath him, so frail - like he could break her simply by staring at her the wrong way. But he saw a burning fire in her eyes, a raging storm in her breaths and a kindred spirit in her heart.

He saw a reflection of himself, harrowed and beaten and skewed. But so hopeful and stubborn and true. It was like everything he had lost had dragged its way back to him and landed itself in his arms once more. Like God was finally answering his prayers from all those years ago, like He had seen his struggles and shown him why he had fought all those years ago.

But there was no point.

Not really.

The CRM would find them. Him. They always did.

Rick was almost reluctant to move away, his body aching for the warmth of another human after almost a decade of receiving none. He pushed himself up onto his knees, unable to help himself as he tutted at the girl when she shifted with him.

"Think you caused enough trouble, sweetheart. Wouldn't you say?"

He couldn't help it as the petname slipped off his tongue, couldn't help but watch as her cheeks darkened and she grew so nervous at the sound of it she was unable to look at him directly. It didn't douse out her fire, but tamed it instead.

He tugged her up by her chains, watching her stumble and teeter as she had no clue where to look or what to do. He barely gave her a chance to speak, leaning forward as he used his intact hand to wrap around the soft flesh of her thighs, ignoring her quiet whimper as he threw her over his shoulder.

His prosthetic lay somewhere hidden so she couldn't reach it whilst he slept and kill him with his own belongings. He adjusted her with his one arm, bouncing her softly over his shoulders until he had a firm grip.

"Put me down."

Her voice was stubborn, but he couldn't help but notice how she didn't try to remove herself from her place, hands fisting in his shirt to hold herself steady.

Rick ignored her calls, making his way into the bedroom to throw her body on his bed, crawling over her form to tie the chain around the post of his bed.

He stared at her for a moment, eyes roving her body as he thought to himself.

He leaned in close to her face, his nose almost brushing against her own, and Alara cursed her traiterous thoughts when they told her to lean up and brush her own against his softly.

It wasn't a bad idea, not really. It had been one of the first things she had thought of when Greer had told her about the programme. Rick wasn't like the others. He wasn't cold and harsh and unfeeling. When he had brought her food, she knew he would be easy to convince.

Easy to break.

Easy to make him hers.

But still, something in her shied away from such forms of tickery and manipulation. The same part of her that would have murdered him only moments ago grew timid at the thought of seducing him so he could let her go.

Though her tears had dried, she still hiccuped against his form. A quiet wince escaped her as he dropped the manacles, ready to return to his bed for the last shreds of dawn.

Rick paused, hovering over the girl one more as he frowned softly. His hands reached for her wrists and pulled them higher into the light. The manacles slipped down her arms only the tiniest bit. They were made to fit snugly against her wrists, and with all her fighting and anger, she had managed to rub them raw.

He ran his thumb over the red angry lines encircling her wrists, her breath catching in her throat at the stinging pain she felt.

Rick tutted, like he was telling off a child, and Alara couldn't help but shrink back.

He sighed heavily, moving back to sit on the edge of the bed as he rubbed the tiredness from his face. He hung his head for a moment, head reeling with anger and disbelief and... God, if he knew. It was as though everything he knew had slipped out from under him and he didn't know what to do in a situation like this.

He turned to her once more, trying to avoid the way he almost lost his breath at her tear-stained face and focus on the rage that resided brazenly in her eyes for all to see.

Alara grew uncomfortable under his gaze, but found herself unable to look away. She was drawn in by the colour of a hazy blue sky that flickered the colour of a new day under the bright hues of the bedside lamp.

It seemed whatever Rick had been looking for he had found.

He left his seat, walking away to somewhere she didn't have the energy to follow with her eyes.

Alara laid on her back now, feet planted on the bed as her knees were pushed up and her arms stretched behind her head. She hoped he wouldn't leave her like this all night, but she wouldn't be surprised if he did. And if he did, it wouldn't be the worst thing she had experienced.

She heard the bedroom door shut softly. She hadn't even realised it had been opened. There was a pause as he placed some things down out of her view, and then she could see the growing shadow of Rick drawing closer - he hid a wince at her contorted form.

He stopped beside her head, looking down at her with a stern gaze as he spoke gruffly into the space between them.

"If I take off the chain from the bed, don't even think 'bout fightin' me. Got it? No movin'. No talkin'."

She pretended not to notice how he didn't wait for a reply. She also tried to hide the way her face fell at the sight of the prosthetic attached to his amputated arm - a vulnerability hidden after she had shown her colours too quick.

The same chain he had wound around his bedpost only minutes ago in rightful anger were loosened, but before she could move herself upright, his hand slipped under her knees and his prosthetic arm under her shoulders to sit her up right.

Her lips parted, whether to thank him or reprimand him she had no clue. But he didn't give her a chance to speak, his fingers pressed against her lips, his gaze tired and frustrated and- lost. It was like looking into a distorted version of herself - finding like in like.

She couldn't help the pout that formed on her lips, and she knew from the way Rick's lips twitched that he could feel it against his fingers.

When he removed his fingers he held the long chain Beale's soldiers had used to tug her around like a leashed animal to bring her here, and there was quiet contemplation on his face.

"I would take it off it I could- properly, I mean." His voice was quiet, barely an octave above a whisper, like he was ashamed to be a participant in the CRM's misdeeds. Like he was horrified by the realisation he was one of them.

"This is the closest I can get," with that he made his way to a table out of her view. He turned with a small box in his hands and made his way back. This time he sat on the bed facing her, one leg atop the bed to balance the first-aid box on his knee precariously.

"Nothing sharp or dangerous in here, so don't even think about it."

Alara rolled her eyes but found herself unable to say much. It was weird, really. To be at a loss for words when she finally could say all that was on her mind. Perhaps she had simply gotten so used to not speaking and thoughts reeling in the quiet that Rick's low and gruff voice was enough to make her simply want to listen.

He brought out a small tube of ointment, some cotton and gauze. He moved the first-aid box somewhere on the bed, forgotten and discarded just as the muzzle had been as he weighed the materials in his hand.

He rested them upon his lap, a hand reaching out to her sore wrists as he watched her with a passive gaze, like she wasn't close to the threat she believed she was. The realisation should've angered her - instead she felt tired. So tired. Like all she wanted to do was lie back and float in eternal darkness, and pray daylight never came.

It only took a glance at Rick's wrist to see how much time she had stolen from him, and that dawn was much closer than she wished.

"Shouldn't've done that."

She glanced down to his careful ministrations, unable to stop herself from admiring his gentle motions as he lightly dabbed some ointment on the angry and puffy red lines that rose from her skin, like he was scared to hurt her even though she had almost killed him.

"What?"

Like she hadn't heard a word he said. Maybe she just wanted to hear it again.

"I told you. There isn't a way to escape from here, you would've gotten yourself killed trying."

"You didn't even try to hurt me, let alone kill me," she retorted softly.

"I wasn't talking about me. You wouldn't have made it five feet from this building without someone finding you. Especially not tied up in these."

His shook the chain that bound her form in emphasis, and she couldn't help but scoff in return - "I would've taken it off first, idiot."

His eyes narrowed, "watch it."

She only rolled her eyes in turn, shoulders deflating as she considered her options.

"Why won't you just let me try?"

There was an imperceptible glint of softness in his eyes as he regarded her chained wrists, "sometimes what we need is better than what we want. You want freedom."

"And what is it I need?"

He blinked up at her eyes that were damp with curiosity. They flickered back down at her wrists, where he wrapped them wrapped it in gauze so the ointment wouldn't rub away.

"I haven't figured that out yet."

They sat in silence for the remainder of the time it took Rick to treat her wounded wrists before they returned to their beds and fell into a fitful sleep.

Morning could not have come quicker.

I promise some much awaited smut in the next chapter 👀🫶🏼

Taglist: @hhhilloklll @bellstwd @classyunknownlover @voodoopoetry @graveyardblossom @jaiboomer11

#rick grimes x oc #rick grimes x reader #rick grimes #rick grimes x you #rick grimes smut #rick grimes fic #rick grimes fanfiction #twd towl #twd the ones who live #crm!rick grimes

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ipsen · 1 year

Text

Kamishiro and Kirishima: Ends of a Spectrum

(Alternatively: Women Too Pretty to Ignore So I Wrote About Them)

Thanks to @just-another-tokyo-ghoul-fan for unlocking a part of my brain I didn’t even know existed. It’s definitely not like Touka is tied for 2nd place for my favorite character in TG. No, sir.

As always, I’m using the official translations because of my monolingual curse.

Under the cut.

Let’s get this out of the way first. Rize and Touka are not friends. I doubt they could ever be friends due to their opposing philosophies. They are fundamentally different people who should not be left in the same room together. Why?

(she hates her so much)

Besides the obvious, it’s because they view their common circumstance-- being born a ghoul-- very differently.

(TG ch3)

(TG 46.5)

Touka blames her status as a ghoul on the reason why she’s had to run and hide her whole life, especially after losing both her mother and father. Rize prides herself on her ghouls powers because being a ghoul in the Garden meant a lifetime of imprisonment, and she wanted out. Touka is tethered down by her identity, while Rize flies around using it.

Ironically, Touka becomes “free” at the end while Rize remains trapped and dies. Let’s tackle that next. Why, in the context of the overall story, does Touka live, and Rize die? It’s pretty straightforward, fortunately.

Rize doesn’t confront her problems, instead electing to always run away. Whenever she gets bored, she leaves. Whenever someone, in her view, tries to tether her down, she leaves. Because she doesn’t want to return to anything resembling that helpless womb in the Garden. Watch:

(TG 46.5)

(re 64)

Running away isn’t a bad thing in a vacuum. Personally, I think you should try to run away when you can afford to. But the thing about Rize’s brand of running away is that she forces the consequences of her actions onto someone else. Like Banjou, who was forced to take over the 11th ward because she killed the last one. Shachi as well, who takes the fall for her and gets imprisoned in Cochlea.

And as a result of her constant running and tendency to leave behind no trace, any chance at a meaningful connection is lost. No one really helps her, because she’s already disappeared. She literally cannot be helped. One of the positive themes of TG is the achievements people can achieve together. Rize, embodying the opposite of this, does not achieve anything substantial. And in the end, she is reduced to someone else’s plaything with no mind of her own.

(re 119, featuring the tip of Touka’s head.) ("Tip of Touka.” “Touka’s Tips.” Someone should use those. She offers very sound advice.)

It’s sad.

Meanwhile, Touka reaches out to people (when the story wants her to). Because unlike Rize, who does the leaving, Touka is the one who is left behind. She deeply understands the loss and hurt that comes with it, and she has tempered that helpless feeling into a kind hand to reach out to anyone.

And I mean anyone.

(re 69)

Even the brother who, when she last saw him, violently tore out her kakuhou. She doesn’t blame him, only supports him when he needs her.

(re 120)

Even the daughter of the man she killed.

God, she’s so cool. Peak big sister. I wish we saw more of it; her contributions to Goat would have changed the tides if the story just let her.

Sorry, focusing. Okay.

But it’s because of this willing to work together with people, seek peace through proactive methods, that she succeeds and lives through the horrors of the world. She uplifts those around her and is lifted up in return. Kindness begets kindness, and I’d say kindness is one of the best parts of living.

It’s nice.

... “What about their relationship to Kaneki?” What about their relationship to Kaneki.

Anyway, hopefully this made sense and you got something out of it. These lovely ladies are such a joy to talk about.

Thanks for reading!

#tg #tg meta #tokyo ghoul meta #tokyo ghoul #touka kirishima #rize kamishiro

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that-foul-legacy-lover · 2 months

Note

(I just had another thought, sorry for not putting it with my previous send)

Left-handed swordsmen were often difficult to fight against in medieval times, since every swordsman ever for that time period was trained with their right hand, against right-handed opponents.

Due to right-handedness, most castles of said time period spiraled upwards in a clockwise manner - it would make it so that higher-up defenders could easily fight back against lower attackers, because the defenders' sword arms would be free to swing about, while the attackers' own sword arms would be cramped by the middle pillar of the spiral staircase.

With left-handed swordsmen, the issues would be reversed, which gives them an edge in spiral-staircase combat.

Anyway! What I'm trying to get at here is a simple thing of imagine being a left-handed swordsman with Childe/Legacy.

~ The anon who wanted Kaveh but didn't want Baizhu or Ganyu

P.S. Just wanna say, love and appreciate you for having a (mostly) fluffy Legacy-centered blog.

'tis my honor and joy to bring you only the finest quality Foul Legacy fluff (and angst, but not today :)

i'm assuming Childe is mostly right-handed seeing that he pulls the bowstring back with his right hand in-game, but i offer the headcanon that he is actually somewhat ambidextrous! not entirely, since it comes from the enormous amount of training he does, wanting to be able to fight no matter what hand, but his left hand still isn't useless even though it's his non-dominant one. needless to say he and Legacy are veryyyy excited to find out that you're not only left-handed, you're also a proficient sword user! they bug you for sparring sessions- well, Childe bugs you (playfully), Legacy watches in awe whenever he inadvertently comes across you doing your own training, sitting silently and staring in amazement until you lower your weapon. there's a soft, pleased trill when you do, a weight gently nudging your shoulder as you raise your hand and begin scritching Legacy behind the horns, met with warm, deep purrs of delight. can you give him tips on how to improve? he'd love to master some new techniques

Childe's secretly very glad that you can fight, and not because it means you can spar with him. it means you can defend and protect yourself if need be, and with his position as a Harbinger, it's quite likely that someone will either try to kidnap or assassinate you in order to "send him a message"- and they did, once. but never again, after your would-be captors returned as slashed corpses floating through the river. Childe had found you that day, calmly cleaning your blade with only a bit of blood on your clothes, and he had simply grinned and pulled you into a proud hug. from that moment on, battles are you on the left, him on the right, side by side- of course, Foul Legacy takes center stage if he's needed, slaughtering every enemy in his path before returning to you looking very pleased with himself, nudging your hands for congratulatory scritches

#genshin impact #childe #tartaglia #foul legacy #foul legacy childe #genshin tartagalia #genshin childe #genshin tartaglia #you can either be unhinged like he is or just have a passion for fighting and swordwork #both are good!!#he still comes to you after a fight looking so hopeful #like 'did i do good? did you see me?'#both childe and legacy want headpats!!#short scenario #other's stuff #chit chat #anon #good evening :)#FAVE

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lu-sn · 1 year

Note

Pete adjusting to his new life post-canon

tortoise this isn't a prompt this is a freaking dissertation topic 😂 okay okay i can pick one thing and stick to it. i swear

i think post-canon pete is suddenly in a position where he doesn't have any friends.

hear me out. i don't mean that his friendships have completely eroded. he sure did burn some bridges, what with shooting that one main family guy to death, and i bet there are plenty of main family guards who used to be friendly with him and now would pay money to light him on fire. but his core relationships — with arm, or porsche, or even khun — are still there. they're just precariously off-kilter now.

pete is no longer who he was before. he wasn't outright lying, necessarily, but he was... hiding. his friends were only seeing one facet of him, and they've come to understand in a pretty brutal way how much of pete they weren't seeing. no matter what, this is going to affect their closeness with pete. it's going to destabilize the trust they have in him. i would put khun at the far end of the spectrum, aka the most destabilized thanks to pete's defection, and porsche perhaps the least, but it still leaves pete on uncertain terms with everyone who liked him in the before times.

and, like, vegas might love pete, but vegas isn't actually friends with pete yet. they've spent... two weeks of quality time together? most of which was straight up torture? sure, they Know each other, but they're probably going to need to work up to being casual around each other. macau and pete also don't know each other well, and it doesn't help that macau is a kid. that friendship isn't going to be equally balanced for a long time.

so pete's at a bit of a crossroads here. he can choose to let those old friendships go — to let the confusion and suspicion grow thick and gnarled between himself and the others — or he can try to actually fix them. and if he wants to do that, he's probably going to have to start being honest. he's going to have to be vulnerable. he needs to rebuild his friendships from a place of authenticity.

I THINK HE WILL BE REALLY BAD AT THIS. not just because pete would literally die instead of be emotionally vulnerable, but because a lot of the authenticity that porsche and arm and pol and khun are going to ask for right off the bat is going to pertain to pete's relationship with vegas. god knows pete has no idea how to talk about that, let alone the desire to discuss it. plus, vegas hates all of these people. should pete really be telling them anything about vegas? can he be honest with people who vegas probably sees as enemies?

it's going to be a long process. and some of it is going to depend on vegas's relationship with these people mellowing out. i have a feeling pete will be able to reach a place of personal honesty with arm fairly quickly, if he gets to see arm at any sort of regular frequency. porsche is harder because of the whole minor family ring thing, but i think porsche might be the only person who kind of understands why pete would have run away for vegas, and i just think pete needs that understanding from someone else real bad. that connection is going to keep them afloat until they can rekindle their friendship in calmer waters.

but. but pete and khun. oof. that one's hard. does khun have the capacity to see pete as his equal? is pete forever going to keep his former employer at arm's length? i don't think this will ever become a true friendship. perhaps they can reach a point of surface-level congeniality.

in the meantime, pete will hopefully make new friends! macau and pete friendship FOR LIFE. i like to think vegas only has a couple of loyal-to-the-death guards left, and i think it would be kind of cool if pete became friends with them. and maybe pete picks up some insane new hobby to fill up all of his unemployed free time and gets to make casual friends outside of the mafia, friends that are his only, that aren't also tied to vegas or pitted against vegas somehow.

but pete is going to have to work for these. no more empty smiles. fewer white lies. less deflecting. learning to offer up parts of himself to those around him — to weave them into bonds that are made stronger by the truths woven into them.

#ofc pete could have zero friends outside of vegas and macau and be super unhealthy #sometimes the appeal of vegaspete is the lack of healthy yaknow #they can be obsessed w each other to a fault that's a-ok #but i like to think about pete achieving some amount of normalcy over time and real friends would be huge for that #thank u for the ask tortoise 😊 hope u enjoy the rambles #kinnporsche #pete saengtham #vegaspete #mine: asks #rainy day asks

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tword-brainrot · 15 days

Text

One size too small

Ler: Wilson 🖊️

Lee: House 🏡

Word count: 1,269

House finds himself in a bit of a dilemma when he gets stuck in a hospital coat that doesn’t fit right and does anything but make it better for himself…

“That’s…quite an attitude for someone in your position.” Wilson said with a twinge of annoyance emanating from his voice.

To be fair, Wilson had only asked if House needed assistance getting untangled from his coat jacket, his arms firmly stuck above his head. House told him to go fuck himself.

With this in mind, House caught on that Wilson didn’t take this too lightly and began to back away.

“Not for long, I just have to get one arm out.” House said, trying every which angle to free his arms.

“Oh I don’t think so.” Wilson replied, getting a good look at the M that marked the tag. “That’s not your jacket, it’s the clearly the wrong size. The cut on it isn’t even right.”

“Well, if it was yours, I wouldn’t be stuck in it, lard ass…” House replied, visibly frustrated with his predicament. Wilson’s expression became more serious as he took 3 paces towards house.

“That was wasn’t kind, constructive or necessary. I’m surprised you even passed orientation, for Christ sake.” Wilson smirked, he slowly traced circles into his sides as he cornered him next to his piano.

“Oh, come on. You know I can be so much ruder.”

House retorted, a smile creeping onto his face.

“Oh, I know. Trust me I know. But..” Wilson drew out. “You always deserved to be knocked down a peg.”

“I beg to fucking differ. God and I tied, bitch.” House snapped back.

Wilson paused for a moment before turning his tracing to digging, placing his thumbs just below House’s lowest set of ribs

“Then, beg.”

House dropped into the piano bench and tried to pull his arms down as far as he could. Unfortunately for House, he couldn’t move them much lower than his shoulders.

“N-not a chahahahance! When I get out of thihihis, you’re toast!” House nearly shrieks, his back landing firmly into the keys surrounding C3.

Wilson leaned to pin House into place as to not cause any further damage to his piano.

“God, you’re always such a tough nut to crack. Oh wait…”

Wilson began to tap up House’s ribs

“You. Don’t. Always. Have. Your. Worst. Spots. Showing.”

With each word, he tapped up his ribs and kneaded into his second set.

“Wahahahait!! Wilson!!! Nohohohoho!!! *SNRK!*”

House began to visibly (and audibly) break as a bright, boisterous laughter filled the room.

“What was that?”

Wilson froze, hands still glued to the exact spot they stopped.

“N-nohohothing! Pay it nohoho mihihihihind!”

House’s laughter picked back up

“I’ve never heard you snort before, do it again.” Wilson said as he picked back up his kneading, this time at the top rib.

“AhAHaHAbsolutelehehey nohohot!”

House squeaked, thrashing slightly against Wilson’s touch.

“Ok, let me say this in terms that can get through that thick skull of yours..”

Wilson jammed his thumbs under House’s arms, not moving just yet.

House absolutely squeals.

“You’re in no position to be this bratty. Do it or I’ll make you do it.”

Wilson’s wiggling thumbs drew light circles into House’s hollows.

“Nononononononohoho!! Y-you cahahahan’t mahehAhahak-“

House is cut off by Wilson gripping his face with his left hand while right hand bounced between his armpits.

“Oh, I can and I damn sure will. Besides you’re still stuck. Stuck in someone else’s coat jacket, care to tell me who’s that is before you can’t talk anymore?” Wilson smirked, slowing back to drawing circles

“Y-yohohoho You knohohohow who’s it is, you prihi-*hic*hihick!” House hiccuped as Wilson hit his collarbone.

“Do I though? It could be anyone’s, anyone who wears a medium. Chase, Foreman-“

“itHihiHit’s CuDdy’s for ChRist SAke cahahahahan you not rehehead?? Shehehehe signs the tahahahags on her *hic* clothes!! Look!” House sharply pulls forward, slightly tearing the neck of Cuddy’s coat.

“I get it, I knew when you put it on! Careful, you’ll rip it, don’t want to do that when it isn’t on her.”

Wilson fessed, now placing two fingers on each collar bone to vibrate into them laterally.

“YOHOHOHO YOU KNEW????? WhY DIHIHIHIDN’t YoU sTOHOHOP MEHEHEHE???? SHEHEHE’S GONNAHAHA KIHIHILL MEHEHEHE!!” House snorted through his Ted talk, trying to sound as upset as possible.

“Of course I knew, Snickers. What fun would that would have been?~” Wilson applied more pressure while simultaneously pressing against the collar of the coat, tearing it more in turn.

House hears this and pulls his arms up to prevent it as much as possible.

Wilson’s eye brow raises in curiosity.

“Bold move for someone who has routinely not cared about other people’s shit..” He takes advantage of this opportunity by drilling his fingers into the reopened spot.

House holds firm, manically laughing without moving more than he had to. Though, it was hard to notice, House smiled with his still closed eyes.

“My, My…You are having fun…aren’t you? I mean, you didn’t yell at me for probably putting your piano out of tune..You’ve done nothing but provoke this further than even I intended.” Wilson chuckled as he brought his left hand to House’s sternum, keeping his other hand in the same torturous spot.

“WAitWAITWAITWAIT!!! I wohohon’t be able tohohOHOHOHO Hohold it!! It AHAhA it’ll TEheHeAr!!”

House protested, avoiding the point as best as he could. The light dusting of pink faded between his salt and pepper stubble giving Wilson all the answer he needed.

“Sucks, guess she’ll have to not pay for a new one and get it immediately?” Wilson held starting to draw circles with his right hand.

“BuHuhuhuT, it’s her Fahahahvorite color! PLehHehease she’ll kihihihill us both!” House pleaded, a desperation forming in his voice.

“I haven’t heard that noise again, still wanted to. Worst case scenario, I get our coffins sized and delivered to the hospital. Gives her three less things to deal with in one go.”

Wilson jested, opting ignore House’s pleas and to continue the circles while now buzzing his index and middle fingers into his sternum.

House arms shoot down and in to cover his death spot.

“NONONONONONONOHOHOHO!!!WIHIHIHIHI!! WILSON!!! WIHIHILL YOU AHAHA STIHIHIHIHIHILL ACCEPT HAHA BEHEHEGGING??”

House must have lost it when he said that but, Wilson stayed silent and persistent in his attack, his new goal to get him to rip the coat into two.

“PLEHEHEHEHEASE!!! PLEHEHEHEHEASE!! WIHIHILSON!”

House shrieked, still refusing to make the embarrassing sound.

Wilson moves to House’s hips, firing a preliminary warning squeeze.

“Last chance. You’re either ripping this jacket or making that adorable little sound again. Pick one.”

Wilson kneaded circles into House’s hips as they bucked against the piano bench (and against Wilson).

“SHIHIHIHI *SNRK!* HIHIHIT!!!!”

House’s laughter beckoned to fall silent before his arms finally and fully came crashing down, violently tearing the back seams apart.

He curled into himself, finally free from Wilson’s attack. But at the cost of Cuddy’s favorite hospital jacket

Wilson finally let up, helping to run away any remaining sensations.

He had a wide grin on his face, satisfied that he got to have his his cake and eat it too.

“Uh oh…. Someone’s gonna be some in big trouble tomorrow..”

Wilson warned, taking the tattered remains off of House’s arms to deliver to Cuddy in the morning.

Before walking off entirely, Wilson turns back around to a still giggling curled up House.

“Oh and just so you know, you don’t have to provoke me or damage personal property next time you want me to destroy you~” He fully walks to the other room, being sure to remember to take the jacket with him tomorrow.

Whether Wilson knew it how or not, House would pay dearly for this and he wanted to be sure of it.

Based on prompt number 13 from this list here! I’ll be using each prompt at random so, do stay tuned 📺

#hatecrimes md #tickle fluff #sfw tickling #hilson #lee!house #ler!wilson #tickle fic

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bmtillerbabe · 3 months

Text

Chapter 3 of "A Beneficial Arrangement", posted now!

Still working on writing the explicit smut 👀

But until I get some free time, a few of these scenes will have to do, I suppose :)

Available to read everything I have posted on AO3 now!

Enjoy <3

-----------------------------------

“Well, there goes that idea.” You mutter to yourself, eyeing the rain.

The torrential downpour started sometime this morning, and hadn’t let up since.

So much for trying to make headway towards Moonrise.

You absently watch Karlach off in the distance running around in the middle of the storm with Scratch, playing and throwing a ball, and all but rolling around in the mud with him. You can see the steam sizzling off her in waves from the raindrops pattering onto her red skin.

“Gods, this feels so good!” She cries out, practically bathing. “It’s so cool!”

You smile, observing from your dry distance, your heart warming at the sweet and innocent nature of the Tiefling. At least someone’s happy.

Wincing in pain, you gasp sharply, reorienting your stance and shifting your weight to alleviate some of the sting. Reaching down to your side, you grip the bandage Shadowheart had been kind enough to wrap around your middle – after no small amount of coercing, mind you. And eye rolling. Much, much eye rolling.

Damn mortality.

Earlier that day, a rogue group of the so-called Absolute Cultists had ambushed your party on the road to the Goblin Camp, leaving quite the plight in their wake. You and your friends had taken them all out, of course – but in no small feat.

One of the thieves had thrown a javelin at you, and even being as dexterous as you were, you didn’t have time to dodge fully out of the way before the sharpened tip took a good chunk of flesh out of your side.

It was a nasty wound that even Shadowheart’s healing skills couldn’t snap-fix. It was going to take good, old-fashioned time … and a lot of it.

Not to mention, during the impromptu battle, your party had gone through many of the remaining health potions, scrolls, and magical items. So, that, combined with needing to rest and recuperate without much gold left, on top of being so wounded . . . the stress levels were rising.

As the unofficial leader of this little party, everyone kind of looked up to you to keep everything safe, keep everyone going…. Keep everyone in one piece.

But how can you do that, when you can barely keep yourself in one piece?

You’re rubbing your forehead as you stand under the awning of your tent trying to will away the stress and absently rubbing against the thick wrap of cloth tied around your middle section, when a familiar voice chimes up somewhere near you.

“Darling, don’t make that face. Worry doesn’t look good on you.”

Astarion chides playfully as he comes to a stop under your awning. He had been trotting quickly, trying to evade the torrential rain, but to no avail. His hair was glistening with fresh droplets, and his clothes had those little dark freckles sprinkled across them. He looked positively angelic like this, and it made your heart sing and soar. A smile crept up to your lips before you could stop it.

Astarion.

The vampire spawn.

The party’s resident blood-sucker.

The elf that was slowly becoming someone you thought more and more about … someone who’s smile, wit and charm began to not only invade the privacy of your dreams, but lonely moments in the night as well.

Your “beneficial arrangement” had proven fruitful as of late, and you had both agreed to let it continue well past the two week mark; even working up to having him feed on you every night, now.

A little ‘Lesser Restoration’ never hurt anyone … right?

Your body had adjusted quickly to the nightly blood loss … and having him in your tent every night had admittedly gotten easier as time went on. The only thing that didn’t get easier, however, was the growing pangs of desire that made your stomach do ‘The Thing’.

Not only when he would feed on you – but now, whenever you would just look at him.

Your heart skipped several beats; your breath became shallow and short; words seemed to fail you; and you felt your insides melt into a puddle of wanton need.

All from a mere glance in his direction.

It hadn’t gotten easier at all – it had gotten so much harder.

It had become every night now, when he would bite you – the arousal would flare up and overcrowd your senses. Drive your mind wild and mad with desire, fanning the little sparks of lust and need into searing, scorching, flaming fires inside you.

And one night afterward, when he was finished feeding from you, after he had left with his usual ‘thank you, darling’ … you had given in. Unable to resist the temptation anymore, you touched yourself … for the first time, thinking of him.

Maybe it was wrong. Maybe normal people weren’t supposed to think of party members, of friends, like this … but the way he looked, the way he smelled, the way his cool lips felt against the intense heat of your pulsing neck, wishing desperately you could feel them all over you, on every inch of your skin …

That first night, you had blown out all the candles in your tent so as not to cast miming shadows in the night, and brought yourself to the greatest orgasm you could remember to date.

You didn’t even have to lick your fingers to get started, slick and wet as you already were.

Circling your clit with your finger, you had merely closed your eyes, biting back a moan, imagining the fingers were his … imagining his hot, blood-stained breath cascading down the valley of your neck; feeling the tips of his fangs drag across your sensitive skin; and that deep, gravelly voice he got after he fed …

‘Thank you, darling.’

Yep. That did it.

You gasped sharply before you could even thrust a single finger inside, coming hard with a muffled squeak. Your back arched off your bedroll, your breathing was ragged and heavy, your mind reeling with delicious images of all the sweet, wonderful little things you could be doing with him … to him …

Biting your own lip, the sharp tang of blood flooded your mouth, and you eagerly sucked on your tiny injury – the taste somehow making you even more ravenous; prolonging your pleasure.

Sleep had never, ever come so easily to you in all your days.

And in the days to come, it became a nightly occurrence.

Feed.

‘Thank you’

Leave.

Play.

It was quite the enjoyable arrangement … until your night-time desires began to bleed (pun intended) into your daily life.

Just like now.

Being so close to him, looking at his beautifully damp hair as he ran his slender fingers through it to brush the curls from his crimson eyes; this was a dangerous game you were playing.

But one you just couldn’t bring yourself to quit gambling on.

Astarion made his way behind to you, where the camp’s Travel Trunk sat (yet another thing everyone kind of just collectively and unofficially decided on: that you were the supply keeper), and began digging around inside it.

Curiosity got the better of you, and you look away from where you had been transfixed on Lae’zel trying to fight the rain (and cursing at it when she realized the droplets kept hitting her back when she was turned) to watch Astarion, rummaging around.

He had taken to removing random things from the innards of the old chest, setting them on the only patch of dry ground under the awning, mumbling and muttering incomphrehensible words to himself. Clearly, he was digging on the hunt for something in particular, but for what, you had no idea.

With an exasperated sigh when he apparently doesn’t find it, he turns on his heels to face you.

“Do we have any honeycomb?” He asks impatiently.

Your brows furrow. Out of all the things you thought he could be looking for, Honeycomb was not among them. “Huh?”

The vampire lets out another disgruntled sigh and makes a face. “I take that as a no, then?”

“What do you need honeycomb for?” You ask, very curious now.

You were all quite literally in the middle of nowhere, everyone had already eaten, and dinner wasn’t for several hours yet ….

What could he possibly need honeycomb for?

“You think my skin stays this porcelain-esque of its own volition?” He scoffs at you and dramatically flairs his head to the side.

You can’t help but suddenly let out an incredulous laugh.

“A serum?” You choke out. “You’ve been using all our honeycombs for your complexion this entire time?”

Astarion looks at you, somewhere between confounded and offended; as if your question made less sense than his statement.

He blinks.

“What else could I have used them for?”

You begin to laugh again at the absurdity of the moment, raising your hand with a wide smile. With everything that has happened, all of you almost dying – you maybe more so – running low on supplies, morale down, the rain delaying your journey forward so that you all have to spend the night in one place – and he is worried about having honeycomb?

To moisturize?

You must have seemed a sight, because Astarion stares at you and … even begins to smile.

“What? What is so funny?”

“It’s just --- you --- we---” But you can’t get it out. The entire situation is suddenly hilarious.

Maybe it’s you finally having lost your mind to the absolute absurdity (another pun intended) of these last several weeks. Maybe it’s the exhaustion finally catching up to you, or the stress, or all of the above – but your laughter comes out in short, loud bursts. And it feels wonderful to laugh again.

However sweet it may have been, the moment is short-lived.

You are reminded once again of the gash in your side and you stop laughing, quickly intaking a sharp breath when it lights up with a stabbing fire. You reach down to grab it with a cry of pain, wincing; all humor evaporating like the rain on Karlach’s skin.

Astarion is up and at your side in an instant, eyes wide as they scan you over.

“What? What is it? What’s wrong? Tav, are you alright?” The concern in his voice is nigh palpable.

But before you can respond, you hear him take a long, slow inhale. You feel his muscles tense, his grip around your waist tightening – wait, his hands were around you? When did –

“Oh,” He drawls out, low and sultry. “Your injury.”

He knew before you did, his keen sense of smell catching the scent of blood before it had even fully soaked through your bandage.

Laughing too hard had caused a stitch or two to come loose, or maybe popped them, you weren’t sure… but you were sure about one thing – you were bleeding now.

And Astarion knew it, too.

“I’m…. I’m fine.” You breathed out through your teeth, clenching back a painful moan. You go to move again, to stand up straighter, but a jolt of pain shoots through your side again and this time your voice hitches and cracks. Your eyes watered.

Astarion grits his teeth, releasing a moan; tight and clipped. Breathing in deeply again, you can easily tell he’s clearly restraining himself … and it’s taking effort.

A lot of effort.

I must have just bled more, you think.

He swallows hard. “Hold on, darling. Just … Stop …”

You continued to try to shift your weight to alleviate some of the pain searing through you, but apparently, your efforts only made the situation worse.

“Stop moving around so much, damn you.” Astarion clicks his tongue and growls softly, holding your shoulders in a vice so that you remain still. “Here. Let me help.”

There’s that gravelly voice again …

Before you can protest, he is lifting you gently and spinning around so that he can walk with you in his hands back into your tent.

The inside is pitch dark, thanks to the storm outside and you having not lit a candle yet. But that doesn’t deter him. He continues to carry you back and into the tent, setting you down gently onto a stool, apologizing as you wince again, before turning to close the tent flap that served as the only door in and out of the confined space.

You hear the faint pitter-patter of raindrops splatter against the top of the thick fabric of the tent ceiling, and a distant bark from Scratch outside.

Would have been calming, if it weren’t for the excruciating pain you were in.

That, and Astarion being so close to you – pupils blown out hungrily, and just the very tips of his sharpened canines on display through heavy breathing.

Soon, it wouldn’t just be the blood gushing out of you …

Astarion kneels at your legs where you sit comfortably as you can on the chair, his knees pressing into the soft earth to make small indentations in the exposed grass.

His expression is taut and he closes his eyes briefly, drawing in a deep breath. It almost sounded like he was savoring something in the air – which, you knew, was probably closer to the truth than you thought.

But in a second, his eyes are open, and he seems back to his normal self. Pupils and all.

“Alright. Let’s see it.”

His words catch you off guard somewhat, and you just gawk at him.

“Wh… what?”

He motions to your middle section where the blood was already seeping through the bandage and onto your shirt, as if what he had just said was the most obvious solution in the world.

“Let’s see your wound.”

You blink at him, your cheeks flushing. Your mind was anywhere but on your current injury, at the moment. With as much as you trusted him, why could he possibly want you to …?

You would have to remove your … ?

When you continue to gawk at him like he’s a mystical, mysterious being, he huffs impatiently and reaches towards your middle.

“N-no, wait--!” You start and lunge forward towards his hands, but stop quickly with a sting stab of pain and a cry, squeezing your eyes shut.

You heard him take yet another deep inhale, and his voice became serious.

“Tavriel,” He growled, “Stop. Moving.”

Holding still, you sank back onto the stool, sitting mostly upright and gripping your side again. Blood was oozing out and onto the palm of your hand, soaking through the thin fabric of your adventurer’s tunic.

Both of you held still and silent – for utterly different reasons.

The rain continued it’s dance just outside.

Astarion kept his eyes shut, his hands resting on your thighs in tightly clenched fists.

You felt a twinge of guilt wash over you. You knew it was your fault he was trying so hard to contain himself – wait, his hands were on your –

“Now. If you aren’t careful, I don’t think I will be able to restrain myself much longer. I want to help you, not add to your blood loss.” A pause. “So. Do you want my help or not?” He speaks through tight lips. He doesn’t open his eyes.

You hesitate, your mind suddenly concentrating on his hands still clenched, resting on your thighs.

His eyes open and he looks directly at you, his gaze like fire on your skin. It nearly knocks the breath from your lungs. Because what you see isn’t anger, or annoyance, or impatience.

No.

Its … kindness.

Sincerity.

He truly wanted to make sure that you were okay, and do what he could to help you.

“You’d be willing to …?” Your voice dies out before you can finish your question.

Astarion rolls his eyes, and thrusts a hand to his hip. “Noooo, I’m patiently waiting for you to just bleed out all over camp so I can watch over your dying body and finish you off – What do you think!?”

His sarcasm makes you smile, and gods be damned if you find yourself nodding before you can stop it. His very eyes held your voice captive, gripping your vocal cords tight.

“Good.” Astarion breathes out almost in relief when he sees your sheepish grin. “Now. Take off your shirt.”

You knew your face turned redder than Ithbank when you heard that. And you couldn’t have possibly heard that correctly … but … your wound did need cleaned and re-dressing … And he was offering to help … Not to mention, your shirt was mostly ruined anyway, what with the blood having already soaked through it and all.

“You … you don’t have to do this.” You say kindly, watching him rise to his feet. As tempting as this whole situation was, and oh how you couldn’t deny how much you absolutely loved the idea … Astarion was still a person. He was a friend. And you didn’t want to make him feel forced into doing anything he wasn’t comfortable with. Even if it was something as simple as helping bandage your wound.

“Darling, if you go ask the Cleric to assist you again, I think she’ll renounce religion. You’re already starting off her every morning using up some of her magic.” He proclaims as he walks towards the front of the tent again.

You wince shyly.

“Besides, I deal with blood every day, who better to help than myself? You really think someone else is better suited for this than a vampire? Not to mention, I am quite nimble with a needle and thread, so if you should need some stitching up, I can guarantee you that my work would be better than Shart’s, Cleric or no …”

Fair enough.

He did have a point.

Caving, you slowly, tentatively gripped the ends of your tunic with clenched teeth and eyes shut tight. You weren’t sure if he was trying to give you privacy, or keeping himself as distant from your blood for the moment as he possibly could, but you were grateful nonetheless when you had just a moment to let your façade down and a tear slip free while Astarion's back was turned.

You were in a great amount of pain.

And part of you was scared to remove the bandage … you hadn’t actually seen the wound yet, and … what if it was so much worse than you thought it’d be? What if it was deep and horrid, and infected? What if you were going to get poisoned or diseased, and die?

You supposed Withers would be able to assist you, but still … It was scary.

Trying to concentrate, you focused on the sound of Astarion humming an absent tune, listening to the distant sounds of him rummaging through the Travel Chest in search for the remaining first aid supplies.

And you did try, you really did … but you couldn’t bring yourself to remove your shirt. And it wasn’t the fear, no – it was just the sheer inability to bring your arms up and over your head whilst pulling the sticky, soaked fabric with them. The pain was too great. You winced and gasped softly, another tear slipping free with a silent scream of pain.

Returning triumphant, Astarion’s brows furrowed deep into his forehead and he suddenly was less excited about his find. He quickly made his way back over to you, kneeling again.

“Tav, Tav, Tav, stop. Let … Let me...” He reached out.

“No. I can do this. I … I got this.” You try to argue, but your breathing was coming in short raspy breaths, and soft whimpers crept up and out of your throat.

You felt a cold hand on your forearm, and you opened your eyes to look at the pale face now inches away from yours.

It was even smiling.

“Please.” He whispered.

Indignation shriveling up, you feel another painful tear fall freely down your cheek with a defeated sigh and nod softly.

Slowly, carefully, as if you were the most delicate thing in the entire material plane, Astarion began to remove your shirt; pulling it up and over your head, and gently off your arms.

Aside from some squeaks and whimpers of discomfort, you found the process to be so much easier, and soon you were left in your bra-lette and the dark red stained patch of cloth wrapped around you like a snake on a corpse.

You curled your arms up and out of the way, suddenly shy and covering your breasts with your forearms as much as possible.

You felt like a burrito in a soggy tortilla.

But you noticed he took no mind to your nakedness. Astarion was careful, practiced even, as his deft fingers began to untie the knot on the bandage, slowly unwrapping you. Watching the precise actions of the pale elf, you noticed how … easily he was undressing you. How careful he was when he pulled away the soaked bandage, his concentration focused on the task at hand. His eyes didn’t wander, his lips didn’t curl into a smirk …

You’d never seen him like this.

And you couldn’t bring yourself to look away.

His movements were quick and soft, much like his voice when he sat back on his haunches for a moment, assessing the damage. Deciding on a course of action, he rose again to walk off, grabbing your wash basin in another corner of your tent. Ripping a spare cloth with his teeth, he was back at your side in an instant to wipe away the excess blood.

You … expected it to hurt much more than it did.

When you winced, he uttered a, “Sorry, darling…” and continued.

You could feel in his motions that he was taking care to cause you as little pain as possible.

You were impressed.

You even let out a small chuckle, causing him to look up at you.

“Are you sure you weren’t a Cleric yourself in a past life?” You joked.

He smiled wryly, and looked back down at your injury to continue working. And for a while, you thought he was just going to remain quiet …

“Well … let’s just say I’ve …” He sighed, his eyes doing dark and his expression fading for a moment. He chuckled darkly. “I’ve had a lot of practice…”

Your heart sank at the implications of his words.

It was quiet again between you for a moment; you keeping your mind busy with mulling over what he had said.

You knew Astarion had been enslaved by a cruel vampiric master named Cazador – one of The Gate’s most prestigious nobles – for some odd two hundred years. He had even mentioned briefly some of the torture, the torment, he had gone through. But seeing him here, now, being so careful, so kind towards you … making sure you were going to be alright … You realized Astarion could have easily become something so much worse than his evil master. He could have allowed the awful things he had experienced shape and mould him into something evil and cruel himself.

But he didn’t.

Sure, he could be a right ass-hat at times, but … deep down, you could see.

There was, somehow, a lot of good left in him.

After handing you a bottle of the strongest alcohol he could find, and warning you that ‘this is going to hurt’, you did your best to keep the tears to a minimum as he threaded a needle from the kit, and started stitching you up.

Literally.

You could feel the resistance of the needle as it thread back into your skin, pulling your two slices of split flesh back towards each other again.

You could smell the blood, and you knew it must have been torturous for the poor spawn.

Looking down slightly at his furrowed brows, you tried to smile through the pain.

“Thank you.”

He stopped for just a second, glancing up at you with only his eyes, the needle currently sticking out of his pursed lips as he dabbed away more blood. That devilish smirk crept its way back onto his face, and it made your insides dance.

“Of course, love. We can’t have our only fearless leader die of infection, now, can we?”

You smiled, wincing sharply as he continued his ministrations. “Really, Astarion. Thank you. This is really kind of you, and I appreciate it so much. Truly, from the bottom of my heart – thank you.”

At this, he did come to a complete stop; blinking at your skin. It was almost as if his mind couldn’t compute the meaning of your words. He stole a glance at you, looking between your face and your injury multiple times … opening his mouth, and closing it again, his own vocal cords strung tight, now.

“I … You’re … You’re welcome.” He decided to respond quietly, clearing his throat.

Was he … blushing?

Dipping the spare washrag into the bowl of water one last time, Astarion wrung it tightly before leaning back down to wipe away the fresh blood oozing slowly from the new stiches. You shifted on the stool to get more comfortable, sighing. The rain was still coming down hard outside, though the noises from the party had died down considerably – everyone most likely in their tents to keep out of the downfall.

Your pain had died down to a dull, throbbing heartbeat. Gods bless alcohol. Of course, it still hurt like a motherfucker, sure. But a fresh bandage was going to feel so much better than –

You gasped sharply, unexpectedly when you felt something … warm, and wet against your skin. It was a sharp contrast to the icy water that you had been feeling from the washrag just a moment before.

And looking down, you felt you may faint.

Astarion had leaned forward and licked a searing trail up the side of your stiches, trailing his tongue along your side to catch the crimson droplets forming. Your cheeks flushed with what was no doubt, every ounce of blood left in your body as you watched.

You felt more than heard the groan of appreciation reverberate from his throat and onto your skin.

The sight alone – actually getting to see him feed off you – made his usual feeding methods seem suddenly so … plain.

Getting to see first hand, his tongue dart out to dance across your pink flesh, watch his lips connect to your body to gently suck, groan internally at the way his eyebrows furrowed deep into his face as if tasting the most delectable thing on the planet …

If you thought you had felt desire before, you had never been more wrong in your life.

Backing away, Astarion, wiped his mouth and looked up at you – eyes shimmering with bloodlust as he tried to blink it away. “Sorry, darling.” He playfully offered that crooked smile, wiping the corner of his mouth with a long, pale finger. “I just couldn’t help myself. Wouldn’t want such delicious morsels go to waste.”

You tried to swallow through a throat that was now dry as sand, and searched desperately for any words. Blinking against the thoughts swirling in your mind, a wild, woderful idea occured to you just then.

Looking back on it later, you told yourself that you were just too injured, in too much a weakened state to think clearly – yes, of course, that was it – and that was why your breathing quickened, why your palms grew clammy, and why you lost all your senses when the words came tumbling out.

“Is there any left …?” You had asked, timidly.

Your stomach was reeling, feeling as if you were going downhill on a sled.

Quickly.

Astarion’s eyes flickered back down to your exposed skin, the slight trail of blood gathering around the gash. The way he looked at you, seemed to push you faster down that hill. Or perhaps he was the sled, it was hard to tell …

“Why, yes. There is more. I’m going to have to clean it off before I wrap it back up … it would be a waste of a perfectly good bandage if I just left you to bleed through the new one, too.”

But … his words … they were too sincere. His actions? Too kind, for your tastes – him turning back towards the wash basin to wring out the blood-stained rag again between his long, pale fingers.

No.

You wanted something ... else.

Gulping to yourself, and your mind swirling with that crazed feeling of hunger … you decided that, maybe … just maybe this once … you would give in to yourself.

When his arm came back with the rag in hand, you reached down to place your hand over his – stopping him. His eyes snapped up to yours.

It was quiet and still between you for a moment.

And you were starting to rethink your actions…

But it would be such a way to show my thanks …

You swallowed tightly, the air thick with anticipation.

“Tav, you’re still bleeding, I--”

“Clean me off …” You cut his words short.

He blinked at you, and for just a mere moment, you saw a flash of white-hot desire, a pent-up raging beast behind his eyes – before it was masked away again. He smirked that smirk, and your stomach flipped over itself inside you.

“My sweet, what do you think I was trying to do?” He chuckled.

But you shook your head, nerves steeling as the desire began to take over all logic in your mind. You were really going downhill now, and there was no brake.

“Mm-mm.” You muttered, “Clean me off.”

You watched with butterflies as his gaze darkened upon you again – his eyes glowing like molten rubies.

“Tavriel …” He uttered your name as a breathy growl, a warning. “You don’t know what you’re asking me to do …”

Damn that deep voice of his, that accent, the way the words sounded like silken strands of fabric woven into the space between you.

Your cheeks flushed again, your hand remaining on his; gazes locked.

“Clean me off.” You repeated, firmer this time, but only by a little. It seemed that not only werte those the only words your mind allowed you to remember how to pronounce, but they thankfully served to answer a million questions at once.

Ah, linguistics.

“Tavriel …” He said your name one more time, leaning close to you with a deep breath. He paused to let a cool hand trail a soft pattern up and across your exposed abdomen. You shivered under his touch, somehow cold and hot all at once. “Once I start ... I might not be able to stop myself until I’ve completely devoured you … So, I warn you again – are you sure you know what you’re asking for?”

All trace of fun and help and lightheartedness was completely and utterly gone from the conversation, the air between you tight and tense and charged with a heady tension the likes of which you had never felt before in all your days. Your eyes were glued to his, both of you breathing heavily, near panting as he awaited your answer.

With a final gulp, you nodded softly, once again answering the same way you did before, but with words that held such a different meaning, knowing you were too far gone to stop now.

“Clean … me …. Off…” You whispered.

With a deep, throaty moan that made the muscles beneath you clench, Astarion lunged quickly, but carefuly, back towards your injury, planting his open mouth over as much of the wound as he could and licking around it softly.

You gasped and hissed in both pleasure and pain – the former overpowering the latter.

His tongue began to draw patterns on your skin, and he began to suckle softly on your gentle, sensitive flesh. Watching him, feeling him moan softly against you, feeling his lips tug and pull at you, drinking whatever of your life’s essence he could get ahold of, shot a pang of desire coursing through you, and right between your legs.

Lost in your moans of pleasure, you tangled your hands into his hair, holding him against you and relishing the feel of his cold vampiric hands on your other un-wounded side, and the other one that had snaked around to the small of your back, pulling you closer to his mouth.

There was no way you were bleeding that much, now. And a part of you in the back of your mind knew it. Knew that his lips were just on you for the sake of being on you … knew his tongue was just licking you for the sake of tasting your skin … But you didn’t want to think about it any more than that, you didn’t want to think of the meaning, the hopes, the want, the lust, the need … all you wanted was to relish and enjoy the feeling of being swept away, swept off your feet yet remaining glued to the chair beneath you.

And his moans … his sweet, delicious moans …

You were in heaven, completely content with feeling as much pain as you could tolerate, watching his breathing grow heavy and ragged, his shoulders heaving up and down, his hands gripping the sides of your thighs in a deliciously painful grip – wait, his hands … you really had to start paying better attention –

And when his tongue darted out directly across the fresh stitches on your side, you hissed in pain and pleasure mixed again, but this time, his name came out.

“Astarion …”

Slowly pulling away from you, you watched him bring his head up right towards yours, your own breathing coming out in short, raspy pants. His hands remained on your thighs in a death grip, and you were half-sure there would be bruises forming later … but somehow that thought only turned you on more …

His ruby colored eyes were directly in front of yours, now, his lips stained with you.

“Yes, darling?” He drawled slowly, quietly, his breath and voice husky.

Your faces were inches apart … your heart fluttered and raced in your chest. You wanted nothing more in the world than to reach up and grab his face, pull him close, and devour him like he devours you on a nightly basis. You wanted to lick your tongue across his skin, to bite and tear at his flesh and draw out the sweet, sweet blood so you could taste him yourself. You wanted to tangle your fingers in his soft, wavy curls, hold him close and ravage him – and feel him ravage you in return. Feel his lips plant soft, suckling hickeys all across your body …

You decided in that moment, you wanted him.

And you wanted him now.

Letting your eyes dart down towards his plump lips, you licked your own; your breathing lifting your shoulders up and down quickly.

You didn’t know how to proceed, you didn’t know how to react, to ask, to plead, to beg for what you wanted. All you knew is that you wanted it, and gods damn you to the 9th layer of the hells if he didn’t want it, too. But based on the look in his eyes, the way he was leaning towards you, the way his hands felt on your skin, worming their way up your non-injured side and pulling you closely, softly towards him.

“Tavriel …” He uttered, and you swallowed gently, your eyes never leaving his lips – inches apart now, getting closer, … closer …

“Oi! Tav! Hey, umm … you got any of those bandages left?”

Karlach’s voice rang out around you both and her heavy footsteps were drawing near as she made her way towards your tent.

With a gasp, you jerked your head towards the opening of the tent that your Tielfing friend was about to walk through at any moment. And see you in a very … precarious position.

“Oh! Uhhmm, uh, yeah! Just, er, give me a second! Im, uh, changing shirts! Hold on!” Heart racing within you for a completely different reason, now.

“Really? That’s the best you could come up with?” Astarion whispered to you, but you smacked him on the arm with another wince. You rose to your feet as best you could, scanning the tent floor for the bandages that Astarion had grabbed. Quickly walking to the front of the tent, you opened the flap ever so slightly and saw Karlach readily approaching.

“Hey, thanks – I have a little cut here that I …” The Tiefling sighed, cocking her head to the side when she saw your exposed skin. “Awh, Tav, are you trying to do it yerself? You could have just asked for help! I mean, I might singe your skin a little bit, but – Hey! We could use me to cauterize it!”

“Karlach, I appreciate the thought a lot, but –” You glance behind you into the darkness of your tent, but … its empty.

Astarion was gone.

Your heart sank, plummeting down to the earth where it had just been flying through the heavens mere moments ago.

The moment gone.

Sighing with a sinking feeling in your gut, you turned back towards Karlach with a forced smile. “I would appreciate some help wrapping myself back up, if you don’t mind, Kar.”

“Of course, soldier! You can trust ol’ Karlach with anything.” She thumped at her infernal heart with a closed fist and a grin.

Inviting her in your tent, you absently watched as she helped to wrap you back up, mind wandering off to where Astarion could have gone, and … why, he had gone.

Something so, so good, just …

Another pain ripped through you entirely, having absolutely nothing to do with your injury.

---------------------------------------

Again, I am still writing the actual explicitness!! Hopefully il get enough comments and readers to get over my own mind and keep going! (hint hint, lol)

Love you all! Thanks for all the love ice received so far! ❤️😘

#astarion #astarion smut #astarion ancunin #baldurs gate 3 #smut #author #writing #writer #ao3 #ao3 fanfic #ao3 writer #fanfic #fanfiction #ao3fic #vampire #bg3 #bg3 tav #astarion x reader #astarion x tav

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hopepetal · 1 year

Text

Boatem knights AU part eight! Pog!

Masterlist

@applestruda and @stiffyck! Things are ramping up!!

A long day, followed by an even longer night, passed.

After being patched up and fed, Grian’s condition had greatly improved. Scar was just grateful they caught whatever sickness he had early on, and that Marc had been… generous enough to give them supplies. Despite his fever going down and his lucidity returning, Grian was still weak and paler than usual.

Their hands were tied behind their backs again, but Grian’s wings had been left free, so one was currently wrapped around Scar. The other wing stayed close to Grian, the bandages wrapping around it keeping it from moving fully. The two knights sat in silence for a while, listening to the sound of the wheels against the road and the horse whinnying.

Scar broke the silence. “I’m sorry.” He gazed down at the floorboards of the wagon, sighing heavily. “For getting you into this mess, y’know?”

“Scar…” Grian trailed off, not knowing what to say. He merely shook his head, looking away. What could he say to someone who fully believed they were at fault for… all this?

Another moment of silence passed, before Scar coughed quietly. “How’s your injury doing?” He quickly changed the topic, plastering a smile on his face.

With a slightly amused, mostly exasperated sigh, Grian smiled back. “Better. So…” He began, pressing his shoulder against Scar’s, “how did you even get them to help me? From what I heard, they only wanted you.”

Scar shrugged, his grin turning sheepish. “I maaaay have told them that we were soulbound.”

“...Scar-!” Grian’s squawk of horror made the other man giggle. “You can’t just do that! I mean, it’s so obvious that-”

“Shhh. They’ll never know! Trust me, G-man. It’ll be alright.” Scar bumped his shoulder against Grian’s just as the wagon stopped once more. “Oh, joy.” He turned to look at Grian, his expression unreadable. “Well, whatever qualms you have with the whole soulbound business, you'll have to put aside. Think you can lie well?”

Grian nodded, his expression darkening. “I'll have to.”

The familiar sound of footsteps drew nearer. Scar leaned back with a sigh, feeling Grian's wing withdraw to fold behind him. At least they had kept the hooded cloaks from last time, so they wouldn't have to struggle to get into them again were they necessary. It was also good for Grian to have some form of covering for his torso other than bandages, which Scar absolutely planned on teasing him later for. Once they got out of this sticky situation, of course.

The wagon cover was once again pulled back, Marc whistling a cheerful tune while smiling down at them. “Good morning, lovebirds,” he cooed in a tone that made Scar feel positively nauseous. Great, he was a creep on top of being an absolute pain in the- “Get out.” Marc stepped back, allowing Scar to carefully hop out of the wagon before Grian.

Scar noticed how Grian stumbled when he hit the ground, his legs trembling as he straightened. Clearly the avian hadn’t fully recovered just yet, which was understandable but made their (as of right now, hypothetical) plan to escape a tad bit more difficult. He made sure to stay beside Grian as Marc ushered them down an overgrown forest path, his shoulder brushing against Grian’s.

After what felt like an hour in the relative quiet of the woods, Marc pushed them through a thick growth of underbrush and trees into a clearing. There, two people stood, armored and with masks covering the bottom half of their faces. At the sight of Marc and the two knights, one drew their sword while the other stepped forward.

“We only wanted the vex.” The voice of the one who stepped forward was higher pitched, but smooth and light. Kind of like Pearl’s, except not at all like Pearl’s. “There was no need to bring us a little birdie as well.”

Marc shrugged, putting a hand on Scar and Grian’s shoulders before shoving them forward. “They’re soulbound. I’m sure you know how that is, Opal.”

Opal’s eyes briefly flicked over to their partner before they looked away. “...yeah. Fine, then. Change of plans, we’ll take ‘em both. You good with that, Fern?”

With a sigh, Fern sheathed her sword. “Yeah. Would’ve been nice to have a bit of a warning, though. Guess we can’t expect anything better from a little-”

Marc groaned loudly, interrupting Fern. “Yeah, yeah, you’re still sore over that one time. Whatever. Take them and go, I’m done with this stupid job.” Turning, he began to walk away. “Good luck, you two!” he called back, “you’ll need it.”

And with that, Marc was gone.

“I hope he trips and breaks his nose,” Grian muttered, earning a soft chuckle from Scar. “Absolutely despicable. We are not lovebirds. You’re not even a bird!”

Scar had to laugh at that, nodding. “True, true. I am indeed not a bird. Very astute observation, my good man.”

Grian knocked his shoulder against Scar’s, smirking. “Oh, shut up.”

A heaving sigh drew their attention back to Fern and Opal, the sound having come from the former of the two. “He was right, this job sucks. Come on you two.” She pulled her sword again, swinging it leisurely as she walked around to be behind them. “Let’s go. Chop chop.” She snorted. “Not really, though.”

“Not unless you piss us off,” Opal added under her breath.

Scar forced a smile, clenching his hands into fists and feeling how his nails began to sharpen into vex claws. They pricked into his skin until they drew blood, reminding Scar of the damage he could do. Of why he and Grian were in this situation in the first place. “That won’t happen, don’t you worry!” he said, trying to sound as cheerful as possible.

“Right, then!” Fern poked Grian in the back with her sword, causing him to squawk and jump forward. “Onwards!”

And as they started moving through the forest once more, Grian looked over at Scar and realized that his eyes had started to dimly glow.

The sound of the horses trotting through the forest was far too loud, in Mumbo’s opinion. Although it wasn’t exactly a stealth mission, he had been far too jumpy during the entire trip to stop worrying about things now. Already his mind was pouring over the various design tweaks he could make to the horseshoes to make them more silent, to the bridle and the reins, to-

They were nearly at the spot Pearl had marked down on the map now. Mambo would know, he had been carefully- obsessively, almost- following along with their journey on the map nearly the whole way there. His focus on the map had nearly caused an accident on multiple occasions. But it hadn’t, so Mumbo had kept his gaze glued to the map.

He faintly realized Impulse was calling his name, turning over to look at the other knight as he dismounted his horse. “Mumbo. I think I saw something up ahead, so I’m just going to check it out, alright?”

Mambo hummed in acknowledgment, tracing a finger up the map following the path they had been taking. He was hardly even paying attention until he heard a loud bark, Impulse shriek, and the sound of someone (likely Impulse) being knocked over by a very large…

…Tilly?

Mambo scrambled down from his horse, shoving the map inside his bag as he grabbed the reins of both his horse and Impulse’s and led them closer to where the man lay on the ground, spluttering as he got his face licked by the very familiar animal. Laughter erupted from the trees, and Pearl stepped into view, pushing her hood down so that her face was visible. “Oh, you should’ve seen the look on your face!” she cackled, and Mumbo had to start laughing as well.

Impulse grumbled, shoving Tilly (gently, of course) off of him and rolling over so he could push himself back onto his feet. “Can’t you control her?” he muttered, wiping his face. “I am covered in dog slobber now.”

Pearl smiled, nodding. “Yep. And she is not a dog! She is a wild, ferocious wolf!” Whistling sharply, she called Tilly to her side, kneeling and scratching behind her ears. “Who’s a good wittle wolf? Who’s my ferocious wittle wolfykins? You are! Yes, you are!”

Mumbo just kept laughing. Impulse glared at him for a moment before turning back to Pearl. “She is a lapdog, for goodness sakes. Oh my- y’know what? Nevermind.” Taking a moment to let everyone calm down, Mumbo having to catch his breath after laughing so hard, Impulse continued. “So. Pearl. Give us the rundown. What’s going on?”

Pearl sobered up quickly, expression darkening. She stood, though one hand remained on Tilly’s head, lightly stroking her ears. “Right, then. Let’s get to it.” She took a deep breath. “I found one of the mercenaries that jumped Grian and Scar. The archer, I think. I… asked a few questions. Just a few! And got some answers.” Noticing Mumbo and Impulse’s concerned looks, she frowned. “I let them go after! Against my better judgment, mind you,” she added on lowly. “After that, I was able to track Grian and Scar to a village- I think you passed it on the way here?”

Impulse nodded. “Yeah. Something was off about that place. Mumbo and I made sure to skirt around it. Can never be too careful, y’know?”

Pearl hummed in agreement. “Good. Well, after I saw them at the village, it was really only a matter of guessing where they’d go and picking a spot somewhat close to that location. Then I sent the note, and the rest is history!” She paused. “Hopefully good history. For us, I mean. It would kind of suck if we failed. Which! We will not.”

Mumbo blinked, his face the picture of disbelief. “So this was all just… a guessing game? And it worked?” He didn’t know whether to be horrified or impressed. With Pearl, it was always a 50/50 chance of either emotion.

Pearl grinned. “You know it! It worked surprisingly well, actually. Grian and Scar should be near us. They were handed off to two others, armored and everything. Hence why I didn’t take them on right then and there. I probably would have won against them, but Grian and Scar would be defenseless and I honestly doubt they’d be honorable.” She shrugged. “Apparently they lied about being soulbound to stick together. Which was probably Scar’s idea, he’s clever like that.”

“Of course they did,” Mumbo and Impulse spoke at the exact same time, exchanging glances with a smile as they did so.

Pearl thought for a moment, her hand on Tilly’s head drifting down to scratch under her chin. “Grian was also injured, and it looked like he was sick, but I guess they got some supplies when they stopped by the village because he’s definitely a lot better today. And Scar…” she trailed off, hesitating. “...something’s wrong. He’s not doing so hot himself. His hair, the ends of it at least, are just constantly white. I noticed he was trembling… probably a result of suppressing his vex magic. Gosh- I can’t imagine the pain he’s in.” Her voice wavered. She knew well the horrors that came from suppressing one’s magic.

“Well then.” Impulse’s gaze hardened as a hand drifted to the hilt of his sword. “We’ll just have to get them both out as soon as possible.”

“Agreed.” Pearl pulled out a map, kneeling down in the grass and spreading it out. Mumbo crouched next to her, examining the marked spots carefully before pulling out his own map and marking the same places. “I mapped out the route they’re taking and planned an ambush spot.” She tapped the spot on the map twice before rolling it back up and stuffing it back into her small bag. “We’ll attack tonight.”

And for a moment, her eyes seem to shine with a purple hue. “Let's show those bastards that they messed with the wrong knights.”

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