#youre cut from a different cloth. you especially are cut from silk. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

silkjade · 9 months

Text

alhaitham x mermaid! reader (3.5)

⤀ cw: afab!reader, first time (w. him), lots of teasing, cunnilingus, praise, fingering, unprotected sex, lil bit of size kink + overstim, creampie, fluff???, true love but they don't know it yet — mdni || ꒰ 6.2k wc ꒱ a/n: recommended to read the previous part first, but it can stand alone as well ! hope u enjoy my smut debut + reblogs & feedback are always vry much appreciated ♡ next ﾉ series masterlist ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𓇼

When you had taken him up on his half conscious, pseudo challenge to visit Sumeru City, Alhaitham never imagined you’d cause him so much trouble. It’s not in the sense that you’d drawn too much unwanted attention, or that you’d spent his mora on frivolous things. No, it was your lack of understanding for the human notions of shame and intimacy.

He’s never entirely sure of just how nuanced the unabashed things you say and do are. You’re shameless whenever you’d ask him for compliments point-blank, or when you’d waltz out of the bathroom only half-dressed in his clothes. Other times, you’d surprise him with words so naively honest, brush against him in ways that feel far too tender.

To his dismay, it’s becoming increasingly clear that your actions always come with a price—one that he pays, not with mora, but with his dignity. Much like the smooth caress of the waters you came from, it’s all seemingly harmless, but the depths of your intentions remain aggravatingly unknown. Especially when your very presence is enough to enfold all his senses in a lull of desire.

He runs a hand through his hair before turning the knob of his bedroom door, only to find you in your human form, lounging on his bed, lazily flipping through one of his books. The robe you wear is one of his; too large on your frame, with the silky material falling off your shoulders, dangerously close to revealing too much.

Not that it isn’t a welcome sight—he is a man after all. And while he prides himself on his exceptional self control, it becomes an issue when he feels himself grow hot and the loose clothes he likes to wear at home begins to feel too tight. He can’t rub one out while you’re here, so perhaps a cold shower might ease his condition…

But you’re more perceptive than he’s given you credit for.

“It’s not as magnificent as my tail, but this body is still quite impressive isn’t it?”

“I’ve never met anyone as shameless as you.”

…

“Well, I don’t think you’ve ever met anyone like me at all.” You flash him an amused smile, but the sultry look in your eyes relay a different message entirely. He can’t lie, it excites him.

“You don’t know what you’re doing to me,” he mumbles under his breath. To his chagrin, your curious hum cuts through the room and he hears the heavy thud of a book slammed shut.

Of course you heard him. With renewed interest, you swing your legs over the edge of his bed, sauntering over until you’re close enough that he can smell the faint scent of his mint shampoo in your hair.

“Oh? What could I possibly be doing to you?” Your fingers walk up his body, slowly, from his toned stomach to his chiseled chest, leaving his skin hot through the fabric of his clothes, “Won’t you enlighten me?”

You look up, that wide-eyed gaze of feigned innocence flickering into something sharp and dangerously seductive. A hand settles on his shoulder, pulling him in until you’re close enough that your lips are only a hair’s breadth away from his sensitive ears. The other reaches down and ghosts against his obviously growing bulge, before pressing down, palming him through his pants. Alhaitham bites back a groan.

“Or rather, what would you like to do to me?” Your voice rings low and smooth as silk to his ears. It leaves a wave of desire to bubble in the pit of his stomach, one that doubles down on the dull ache at his crotch.

His mind sifts through a thousand thoughts. Lascivious thoughts, sinful, perverted thoughts that only seem to make their presence known when in your company. Just one glance down at you and he can see how ridiculously easy it would be to untie the lazy knot that’s hardly holding your—no—his robe together.

“I…”

It’s hard to think when you overwhelm all his senses, poking at the urges he has so carefully suppressed up until now. His robe, his scent. He’s no fool to the way Sumeru City ogles at you—the mysterious stranger who’s able to so casually hang onto the aloof scribe’s arm. It only makes him want to stake his claim across the empty canvas of your skin as well: his mermaid. Perhaps just this once, he’ll let himself indulge in his own selfish desires.

“Come on, Scribe Alhaitham,” you emphasize,“use your words.”

A smug smile forms on your face as you calculate the risks of your next words.

“Although…if you’ve got nothing to say, why don’t you just show me,” you press close, voice deceptively soft. “I’m more of a hands-on learner anyway.”

For once, Alhaitham lets his body override all sense of rationality, flipping your positions, and pinning you against the wall as he captures your mouth in his. It’s uncharacteristically sloppy and haphazard, with none of the craftiness he displayed on that first and only night you kissed, but it’s intoxicating all the same.

His teeth graze against your bottom lip, demanding entrance, and you’re forced to grasp onto his toned bicep to keep yourself steady as you devour each other with the intensity of all your repressed thoughts. With every second his mouth remains slotted on yours, with every inhale and exhale of breath you exchange, you think that this time, you’re the one who might drown.

He finally tosses you a lifeline once he decides to leave the vicinity of your mouth, and begin his campaign across the rest of your body, starting with the little spot right along the underside of your jaw. Alhaitham takes his time trailing down your neck, catching you off guard when he stops to suck down, hard, on a particularly sensitive patch of skin.

An involuntary gasp escapes, and you can feel him smirk against you, though it quickly fades into a half strangled groan when your hips roll into his. He only continues downward from here, carving kisses into your body and leaving behind colorful little bruises that send liquid fire running through your veins. The further he goes, the more he must uncover, and the only thing standing in his way is the robe you’re hardly wearing.

“Can I…?” he asks in a hoarse whisper, fingers already toying with the sash.

“Not like you haven’t seen everything already,” you mutter, pulling his face in to kiss him again.

His free hand snakes down to squeeze your ass while the other tugs on the loose knot, the silky material now free to tumble down your body like a waterfall, hitting every curve along the way. In one fell swoop, Alhaitham takes you to his bed, picking up right where he left off: with a depraved kiss that speaks more than he ever could in relaying the underlying lust that clouds his mind.

“Beautiful.” The word slips out without a second thought. It’s the first time he's ever said it outright. Beneath the fervor, there’s a special sentiment that cushions his tone. It has you buzzing with warmth from the inside out, but whether it’s contentment or embarrassment, you don’t know. Biting your lip, you turn your head to the side, refusing to meet his gaze.

He finds it infinitely amusing that for all your openly brazen flirtations…

“You’re not getting shy on me now, are you?”

You respond by stubbornly grappling at the edge of his shirt, nails grazing against his muscled abdomen in the process. The startling sensation crackles through his nerves, sending his cockhead twitching in delight.

“It’s only fair I get to see you too,” you mumble, in what little time you have between kisses. Alhaitham pulls away, a brow quirked in mild amusement. Pausing, he takes this chance to drink in the sight of your naked figure for the second time, though tonight there’s no need to look away.

It’s exhilaratingly surreal to see your body marked by the undeniable testaments of his touch. It manifests on your skin, where you’re decorated with clusters of little bruises signed by his lips. In your chest, as it heaves for air after all the breaths he’s stolen from right out of your lungs. It persists in the way your eyes draw him in, inviting him, daring him to do more. In how your lips, though slightly swollen, wear the same coquettish grin that’s enchanted him time and again. With no other choice but to surrender to your demands, Alhaitham lifts his shirt over his head, tossing it to the side without a care.

You’ve always thought the man to be handsome, but you’re left wonderstruck as your eyes wander across his bare skin. It’s not like his usual attire leaves much to the imagination, but Alhaitham undressed, is still a sight to see. His toned chest and sculpted stomach, well defined arms… Chiseled by the gods themselves, you think as the corner of your lips quirk just the slightest bit upwards.

“Enjoying the view?” It’s funny how much his smug smile contrasts with the mottled pink that colors his shoulders and dusts across his cheeks. His skin only flushes more when you trace a finger over the gem on his chest, tantalizingly slow as you make your way down his sternum, and only stopping to lightly flick at one of his nipples. Alhaitham’s breath hitches and you can practically see his muscles as they tense.

“Very much,” you answer, hands sinking lower. “So won’t you show me more?”

He catches you by your wrist when he feels you tugging at his waistband, and it takes everything for him to ignore the wanton desperation that’s quickly clouding his mind. It’s difficult, but out of sheer will, he manages to hold back, if only by a thread.

Gently, he pulls your chin up to face him. Want hides beneath his teal gaze, but there’s a softness that truly shines through, encapsulating the delicate balance between risk and reward.

His hands shift to caress your cheek, before he moves in to steal another kiss. This time it’s sweeter, more chaste. Alhaitham kisses you slow and passionate, interwoven with a tenderness that causes your heart to swell in your chest.

“You sure you want to do this?”

Your resounding ‘yes’ breathes a renewed ardor into his actions as he lowers you onto your back. Little by little, he makes his way down your body, leaving wet kisses everywhere except where you want him most. A kiss here, a lick there—the heat that pools in your belly only grows by the second, but a harsh suck right below your hip causes your breath to hitch and your cunt to drool more in response while you whine and attempt to rub your legs together for any sort of friction.

They are, however, aptly spread back apart when he hooks his arms beneath your thighs and pulls you closer to where he kneels at the edge of the bed.

“You’re so wet,” he murmurs, “and we’ve only just begun.” Alhaitham lets out a low chuckle as he presses another kiss to your inner thigh. It’s enough to have you shivering in anticipation, the reverberating tremors of his deep voice going straight to your pulsing hole, wet with the slick of your arousal. One of his hands moves to hold you down as you jolt when his teeth graze against the delicate skin.

“Will you please just hurry up,” you’re barely able to get all your words out before your voice breaks into a breathless gasp as he takes you by surprise, dipping his head down to lick a long stripe up your glistening folds and flicking your clit with the tip of his tongue once he reaches the top.

Talented in more ways than just words, you find out firsthand exactly how good he is with his tongue. Like a man starved, he laps up all you have to give, while your gushing hole happily churns out more slick. But it isn’t nearly enough. Especially not with the way you’re grinding into his face and singing praises to his name.

Alhaitham doesn’t consider himself an arrogant man, but he’s never loved hearing the sound of his own name more. It falls through your lips in a trail of whimpers, your pretty little cries music to his ears, delicate and lyrical. His tongue prods at your entrance, occasionally dipping into your warmth, and as he closes in, his nose bumps against your puffy clit. It has you keening, and your hands come flying to tangle in his ashen hair as your voice splits into a sharp gasp.

He takes a mental note of your reaction before moving to suckle on the sensitive bundle of nerves, drawing out another beautifully broken sob. With every exhale, and every swipe of his tongue, Alhaitham breathes life into your cunt—leaving it to drip with arousal and clench around nothing. Your fingers curl in his tresses and you tug hard. The low groan he emits reverberates through your body; the rumbling vibrations of his own pleasure sends you crawling to your high.

But he soon pulls away and you’re quick to let out a pitched cry in protest. He peers up from between your parted thighs, sharp eyes hungrily taking in the sight of you squirming at the loss of contact.

“Haitham,” you whine pitifully, hips blindly stuttering in search of his touch, “don’t stop.”

Oh how the tables have turned. Before him, your tiny hole clamps around nothing and a sly grin creeps onto his face, devilishly handsome and glistening with your essence that so freely drips down his chin. You’ve teased him relentlessly during the span of your partnership, and as per your logic, it’s only fair he gets to do the same.

“Beg for it,” he purrs. His warm breath fans across your folds, sending you into a frenzied fluster from the bottom up, and you feel as if you’re going to melt.

“P-please…” It’s difficult to come up with any words, much less the right words, to say when the overwhelmingly wanton desire for him to just touch you again, has your brain enveloped in a thick haze. “Need you…Haitham please…”

His name, entangled within the sweet pleas that fall from your lips, has his cock twitching again, eager to be freed from the constraints of his pants. But if he can ignore the wet spot forming from his own precum, then he can do the same to the way his hips seem to move on their own, slowly rutting against the bed. He’s a patient man, he can wait. You on the other hand…

You’re so needy for him, so lost trying to chase your own pleasure, that it doesn’t even register when he wets two fingers in his mouth, unable to process anything until you feel the faint stretch in your cunt that has you trembling in anticipation. His fingers slide easily into your creamy insides, and he only watches in amusement at the way your hips buck, silently begging him for something more than the painfully slow, lazy way he’s pumping in and out of you.

“You’re already so tight...” He lets out a breathy chuckle as he scissors you open, resisting the way your velvety walls come down, hugging every inch of the digits inside you. “How are you even going to take me, hm?”

You open your mouth to respond but nothing ever comes out, save for the faint breath of a moan that manages to escape. If you were in the right state of mind, you would’ve been sure to fire back something smart, however, your thoughts have been reduced to fixate on Alhaitham, who’s rather keen on keeping it that way.

He moves his wrist, twisting and turning, relentlessly searching until the pads of his fingers press against a spot just right, that it has your toes curling and back arching off the bed in a loud cry. He curls his fingers, bullying the spongy spot until echoes of your melodic mewls are undeniably present amongst the lewd squelching of your wetness. It sends him reeling and growing impossibly harder—oh how he so adores the way you unravel before him.

Your body runs hotter than ever and you feel the coil in your belly tighten, ready to snap. You’re going to cum. You’re so close. Just a little more. It repeats like a mantra in your head, but your impending climax dissipates as he draws both fingers back out, leaving you dangling at the precipice with a distressed wail, frustration pathetically painted across your face.

Why did he just do that? Your eyes are large and laced with tears that quiver and threaten to spill down your face. Ignoring your futile attempt at garnering pity, Alhaitham only continues to taunt you.

“Will you look at that?” he says, toying with the messy slick that glosses over his middle and index fingers like webbing, stretching and breaking along to the movements of his hand. It’s such damning evidence of how much you need him, but it’s also somehow mesmerizing, so much so that you’re unable to look away. It doesn’t help that your sopping cunt only weeps more at the sight, absentmindedly fluttering around nothing.

He drags you out of your thoughts as he unexpectedly takes your clit back into his mouth. His hot tongue swirls around your bud, effectively setting your veins on fire, then takes the chance to throw your earlier words back at you.

“Tell me what you’d like me to do,” he says, mouth never leaving the little nub.

You want him to make you cum, is what you want to say—or rather, you want him to let you cum, considering how he so cruelly ruined your earlier orgasm. But it all only translates into a litany of unintelligible whimpers, and Alhaitham smiles, the mischief twinkling in his eyes now glaringly apparent. He can’t help how endearing it is, that you, who always has so much to say, is now struggling to answer even the simplest of questions.

“Use your words. I want to hear that pretty voice of yours.”

“I want… I need…” you’re only able to make out a few words in between your ragged breaths before you’re interrupted by your own broken sob as he sucks down hard on your abused clit.

“Hm? What was that?”

“Want to cum… ” you choke out, eyes sliding shut as you try again with your best efforts.

The latter half of your sentence warps until it rises an octave and melts into a shaky moan. Alhaitham barely gives you just enough time to finish before three lithe fingers find their way into your cunt without warning, slipping past your wet folds with ease. The dull pain of an added finger stuffed into your tiny hole, has you keening, your own knuckles turning white from your steel grip on the bed sheets.

With a sweep of his tongue, he laves over your swollen clit again, sending shivers through to your core as you feel the tension return in your abdomen, this time wound even tighter from the way he continues to fuck your already sensitive cunt.

“ ‘m so close… please,” your breath catches in your throat as you whimper and squirm. “Please Haitham, please-”

It’s beyond his own belief how he managed to wrangle you into his bed; the beautiful mermaid who had first tried to drown him, who was always so outspoken and bold— now reduced to a begging, whimpering mess on his sheets. For that, he mentally pats himself on the back and decides to take pity on you.

“Come on, mermaid. Let me hear you sing.”

Immediately, you feel his fingers curl, right up against the very spot that has you seeing stars, exactly as he had intended. He drags his teeth carefully, lightly grazing your swollen clit, effectively ripping out a loud, visceral scream as you finally tip over the edge in an earth shattering orgasm.

Waves of pleasure continue to wash over you as Alhaitham finger fucks you through your high, vigilantly hitting that sweet, spongy spot over and over again without mercy. You’re left quivering, fingers desperately grasping at the bed sheets, trying to find something, anything to hold on to. His hand, the one that isn’t three knuckles deep inside you, moves to hold your hips down as they twitch in the settling overstimulation.

A satisfied hum rumbles in the back of his throat as he finishes off with an easy kiss to your inner thigh. He finally slows down his movements as you ride out your high, though the shallow, wet noises as he rocks his fingers in and out of you, seem all the more erotic against the backdrop of your dissipating cries.

“Can’t get enough of you,” he coos. “Such a pretty thing—so gorgeous when you cum for me.” Alhaitham continues to whisper sweet flatteries that have you preening until he feels you clench weakly around his fingers once more. He raises a brow, the beginnings of a small smirk forming on his face.

“Of course you like to be praised.” Despite the lilt in his voice, he draws his soiled digits out with care, though you still shudder as he passes through your sensitive folds.

“Shut up.”

Even as you sit up to catch your breath, your eyes wander over to the man’s bare upper body, before they drift down to the impressive tent bulging from his pants. Suddenly, you’re made painfully aware of how utterly empty you are. Arousal pulses through you, once again dripping out of your cunt at the thought of being stuffed full.

Your obvious staring doesn’t go unnoticed; and neither does the way you shift as you’re rubbing your thighs together for more friction. Your shamelessly perverse act only reinforces the thrum in his already rock hard cock.

“Open up.” You do as you’re told, intuitively wrapping your lips around his long fingers, cheeks hollowing as you clean off the mess you had left. It spurs him on, the way you hold his gaze with those large doe eyes, blinking so lasciviously when he draws them back out, leaving behind a trail of saliva that snaps like gossamer on your lips.

“What, haven’t had enough of me yet?” He teases you, yet the slight waver in his voice as he struggles to mask just how much he’d like to cum right then and there, says otherwise.

“Not nearly enough.”

Your playful wit is nothing new to him. And while Alhaitham considers himself to be quite well versed in how you love to play coy, an expert in navigating around your flirtations—he’s far from immune to your coquettish displays. He’s only human after all…

So it’s no fault of his own that you drive him absolutely insane.

Pupils blown wide and dilated with lust, he dips down until you can feel his hot breath on the shell of your ear, “I hope you don’t regret that.” His smooth baritone sends a shiver down your spine until it pools between your already sticky thighs, a vague promise of what’s to come.

Before you know it, he catches you in another eager kiss, rough and hopelessly greedy, as you fall back onto the mattress without a care. It only heightens your sense of urgency that he can’t help but grind into you.

His normal attire barely hides his bulge, but even underneath these loose clothes, the outline of his cock stands tall and unmistakably erect against the fabric—which you desperately need removed now, as you fumble with the waistband. Alhaitham chuckles lightly into the kiss before pulling away. Message received.

He moves quickly, pants and underwear hastily thrown to the side and forgotten, because how could you possibly think of anything else when he stands before you, hands fisted around his magnificent cock, grunting at the little ounce of relief as he gives himself a few quick pumps. Precum dribbles from the flushed pink tip and your eyes follow as he spreads it along the impressive length. You can’t help but think that it’s… pretty. And oh how you adore pretty things.

He lines himself up at your entrance, cockhead just barely dipping inside as he hovers over you, and for the first time tonight, you realize just how incredibly vulnerable you are now, laid bare before him, ripe for the taking. But it’s okay if it’s him. Whether it’s the fuzziness mulling in your head, or your cunt that’s thinking for you, anything is fine as long as it’s Alhaitham.

Above you, he swallows harshly and you can see the slow bob of his throat as he does so. “Tell me if you need to stop,” he murmurs. The rasp in his voice makes it apparent that it’s taking every ounce of fortitude not to just slam his entire length into you.

The first hiccupped gasp that escapes your lips has him smiling smugly as he pushes in, splitting you open with ease from how wet you are. But the stretch as you struggle to accommodate his girth burns despite your previous preparation; he’s just so much bigger than his fingers. Inch by agonizing inch, he stretches you wider, whispering sweet nothings while he stuffs you full of his cock.

“You’re doing so well,” he praises, though it’s quickly drowned out by the sound of your heart beating in your ears. Every time you think he’s done, he only continues to push further inside. Your head spins at how full you already feel, unconsciously tightening around him and drawing out a choked curse that rolls tactlessly off his tongue. There’s no helping the way his self control fades when you’re squeezing him like that, your needy cunt intent on sucking him all the way in.

“Fuck,” he rasps. It’s foreign and depraved and so vulgar compared to his usually eloquent speech—not that it isn't also incredibly attractive hearing him lose his composure like that—but it’s even more so especially because you’re the one making him feel this good. Your heart flutters at the thought and the vibrations of another muffled grunt ripple against your skin when you reflexively bear down again.

Alhaitham bottoms out in one final push, sending you reeling at how the thickest end of his shaft forces your little hole to stretch even wider to accommodate the width. A hitched cry leaves your throat and your arms fly to wrap around his neck, pulling him close as he presses soothing kisses along your jaw, though it does little to quell the heat rapidly igniting throughout your body.

“Are you alright?” There isn’t an ounce of teasing in his tone when he pauses to glance down, giving you a moment to adjust while ensuring you’re okay.

Your hum of approval is all he needs to start moving in languid strokes that fill you to the brim, his shallow thrusts so lewdly squelching to the tune of your wetness. Each slow drag of his cock forces you to feel very ridge and vein as he grinds back and forth, pulling soft mewls out of you until they melt into breathless whines pleading for something more.

“Faster… f-faster please.”

Who was he to deny you, when you’ve been taking him so well? Sliding ever so slowly, Alhaitham all but pulls out, leaving only the very tip of his cock to kiss your entrance. You don’t even have time to process the jarring emptiness before he slams his entire length back in with a single thrust, powerful enough to send your entire body jostling from the impact. Your back arches in pleasure, your head thrown back in a silent scream as your mouth falls agape, the sound dying before it’s ever able to leave your throat.

Alhaitham is relentless when he starts fucking you in earnest. The gentleness from earlier is gone, replaced by the callous way he repeatedly pounds into you, burying himself to the hilt every single time. He’s hitting depths you never thought possible, with each thrust sending shockwaves that ripple through you until it scrambles your mind, shattering that last piece of lucidity stubbornly holding you together.

“That’s it. Take it, just like that,” he coos, but you're too fogged over to comprehend his words. It’s clear your mind is currently occupied by other matters; matters such as the chant of his name atop your long string of strangled cries.

He revels at how pliant you are underneath him—so stimulated and keening out in pleasure at everything he does, greedy cunt eagerly swallowing every inch he offers, pulling him in with every snap of his hips.

His mouth latches onto one of your nipples, sucking on the nub while he twirls the other between his fingers, groaning when your nails dig into his shoulders, imprinting crescents onto his skin. The added stimulation elicits another set of frantic whimpers, and the familiar tightness in your abdomen returns.

“Haitham I’m… I’m so…” Close, he deducts. He can tell by the way your walls close around him.

Half of him wants to watch you struggle with your words in between all your panting and moaning, wants to withhold your sweet release until you can speak properly while he continues to piston in and out of you. The other half, driven by his wanton throbbing, slides a hand over the curve of your ass, lifting your leg to angle himself just right before plunging deep inside you, hitting that same spot from before that had you seeing stars.

Loud, broken sobs tear through the room as his tip mercilessly drills into the spongy spot with pinpoint precision. Your nails rake down his back, and a sharp hiss manages to escape from his lips. It only fuels him more, makes his movements more erratic. Over and over, hit after hit, Alhaitham delivers an exhilarating pleasure that drives you to the edge of delirium. Warmth blooms in the pit of your stomach threatening to spill over and seep into every crevice of your being.

It’s too much. It’s so good. It’s not enough. You’re not sure how much more of this you can take.

“I can feel you falling apart around me.” The corners of his mouth lift in a smug grin, ignoring the fact that his voice comes out in ragged huffs, uneven from his labored breathing.

There’s no use denying how much you affect him as well— not when fire licks his body, coloring his pale skin flush. Nor when his expression is clearly strained, trying so desperately to hold on to his crumbling composure. You’d notice if you still had the capacity to process anything at all, but alas…

He lowers his head into the crook of your neck, nipping lightly at the tender skin before switching to your native tongue. “C’mon my beautiful mermaid… give it to me. Cum for me.”

The white hot bliss that sweeps across your body is maddening and it leaves you absolutely shattered. The vibrato in your voice cracks as you scream and sob, body going impossibly taut. You’re desperately gasping for air, drowning in the waves of euphoria that wash over you, but it pulls you in and drags you further down into delirium. You can’t think, you can’t speak. You can’t stop the trembling in your thighs and you can’t stop your cunt from spasming as he continues to fuck into you.

His pace slows but his strokes are longer and deeper, as if he’s trying to ingrain himself permanently within your walls. Your moans rise in pitch, turning to whimpers when his thrusts continue past your orgasm and into the settling overstimulation, his cock still taking from you where there’s no more to take.

You’ve never felt more like a paradox than you do now. Your head is the clouds, while your body feels heavier than ever. You’re painfully sensitive, squirming to get away as he chases his own release, yet your cunt still pulses and begs to milk his fat cock dry.

Weak arms reach up to cup his face, pulling him in for a lasting kiss, breathing him in like the air you so desperately need in your lungs. When you pull away, your eyes are so dazed and lidded, not yet recovered from the intensity of your orgasm, but already prickling with tears from the burn of overstimulation.

“Make me yours.”

Alhaitham buries his head in the crook of your neck; there’s no hope of keeping up his composure now. In fact, it’s a wonder he didn’t come from those words alone. You already are, he tells himself. There’s nobody else he could ever want; nobody else could ever compare to how perfect you are for him.

With a few final thrusts, he presses his weight into you and sinks his cock as deep as he can. He lets out a tattered moan and his hips stutter as he follows you over the edge, the warmth of his hot cum spilling into your insides.

A fleeting thought crosses your mind: Maybe you want to stay like this forever. So warm and tingly and speared open in all consuming pleasure.

His body slumps against yours, relaxed and utterly at peace. In the numbing midst of his high, Alhaitham’s mind is for once, a couple beats slower than his palpitating heart.

“I love you.”

He wasn’t thinking when it had slipped out of his mouth. The words came so naturally, rolled off his tongue so easily. It’s too late by the time he realizes just what he’s said; he hopes to god you didn’t hear him, but it’s the only thing you catch amongst all the white noise. He loves you. Alhaitham loves you.

It replays on a loop inside your head but your jumbled mess of a brain can only process so much right now. “Love… you…” you barely manage to scrape out. He quiets your empty babbles with another kiss, muffling your whines as he gently—though reluctantly—pulls out of your embrace. You shudder and whine at the loss.

“Easy now,” he soothes, distracting you with praises and soft pecks to your temples. To you, the emptiness in your cunt feels all too foreign, but he can’t help but stare at the lecherous sight of your combined fluids dripping out of your hole. He can already picture it in his head; the wet noise of your slick and his cum, all shoved back into you so that not a single drop is wasted…

Alhaitham shakes the thought from his head, forcibly tearing his eyes away before his own mind can betray him. He excuses himself before soon returning with a glass of water and a warm, wet towel in hand.

Slowly but surely, your lungs steady, and the fog dissipates, and you’re finally able to anchor yourself back to reality. A reality where your throat is dry, hoarse from all the retrospectively embarrassing sounds he had dragged out of you, and your limbs feel so heavy, as if your bones have all but dissolved into jelly.

“Gonna clean you up, okay?”

With your permission, he helps sit you up, passing you the glass of water before he begins wiping off the excess fluid between your legs. The towel is rough against the still sensitive skin of your inner thighs, making you jolt. Immediately, he utters an awkward apology, looking up to gauge your reaction.

Water, split from the sudden movement, drips down your chin. Loose pieces of hair stick to your forehead; the thin sheen of sweat that coats your skin makes sure of that. To look so disheveled yet so gorgeous at the same time… you’re absolutely enchanting in the afterglow. A flicker of pride rushes through him—he did that. The proof was in the bites and bruises littered across your skin. He smiles, sheer adoration present in his eyes.

Your soft giggle breaks his train of thought. “What are you—” A yawn. “What are you looking at?” The chirp in your tone peaks just the tiniest bit out of your sleep-laden voice, but you’re too worn out to wait for an answer, opting to fall back onto the mattress instead. It’s not long before you fully yield to the exhaustion.

You look so peaceful in your sleep, so human, that he almost forgets you’re not. Still, he wonders how it would feel to hold you in his arms as he sleeps. To wake up beside you and watch as the sunlight illuminates your features.

Would it be selfish of him to indulge just a little more?

Tossing the towel aside, he joins you under the safety of his covers. He wraps an arm around your frame, pulling you close, holding you right next to where his heart beats in his chest. Alhaitham presses a soft, last kiss to the top of your head before he too, drifts off to sleep.

When morning comes and the golden sun arises, everything will return as it was. Dreams and other such wishful delights are of the moon’s sovereignty, so tonight, let him hold on to this reverie for just a little while longer.

a/n2: This was my very first smut piece so I hope you enjoyed :’) Since this is an extra chapter, I tried not to include any details that would drive the plot too much, but ending it with just a tiny bit of angst to transition to the next part. thank u for reading ! ♡

3K notes · View notes

malusokay · 1 year

Text

2023 reset guide

Glow up

2023 vision board. Visualize your dream 2023 and write down your goals!

Daily Hot girl walks. No excuses, babes; let's get moving!

Reflecting on 2022. Look back at what you've accomplished and what you could have done differently.

Make a Bucketlist. Write down places you want to visit and things you want to do.

Extended self-care. Take some time to yourself to recover from the stressful holidays and get back on track. <3

Buy a good SPF. Do some research and find something that works for you!

Start Investing in yourself. Money, time, and energy. Put yourself first!

Annual check-ups. Make a dentist appointment, go to the optometrist etc...

Buy a Silk pillowcase. Protect your skin and hair!

Set clear boundaries. And make sure that people respect them!

Less screen time. Self-explanatory.

Manicure, lash lift, haircut. High maintenance to be low maintenance! ;)

Wellness

Daily vitamins. Visit a doctor to discuss which ones you should be taking for the best results.

Morning stretches. Wake up your body and drink some water!

Skin/hair care. It's time to find products that actually work for you.

Reading more literature. Set yourself a daily reading goal.

Planned grocery lists. Make a grocery list that aligns with your dietary needs and goals to make shopping less stressful. <3

Less coffee. Especially if you struggle with anxiety!!

More greens and protein. Let's give our body what it needs.

Journaling. Truly helps with overthinking!!

8 hours of sleep. Beauty sleep. <3

Cooking for yourself. Such a cute form of daily self-care.

Yoga. Or just any low-impact exercises in general.

Deep cleaning

Organizing your closet. Only keep things that make you feel beautiful.

Budgeting. Check your bank account and plan ahead.

Clean your hairbrushes. Trust me...

Donating clothes. Donate the items that you don't wear anymore.

Clean your make-up brushes. The first step to clear skin!!

Fresh sheets. Wash your pillows too.

Charge your electronics. IPad, Mac, Camera etc...

Get rid of expired make-up and skincare. Step 2 to clear skin, lol.

Declutter stationary. No need to keep dried-out pens.

Delete old emails. I currently have 1840...

Delete unnecessary apps. Anything you don't need.

Clean your camera roll. Making some space for new memories! :)

Cut out toxic people. <3

Mindset

Pretty, smart, kind, and prioritising myself.

Positive affirmations!!

Your daily habits play a huge role in your mood/life. Be mindful, and take care of yourself.

It's okay to outgrow people!!

Decide what kind of life you actually want and start saying no to everything that won't get you there.

"I'm attracting opportunities that align with my dream life."

A girl who will do big things can't let small things bother her.

Honestly, reinvent yourself over and over again until you are satisfied with who you are.

Do you want to be comfortable, or do you want to grow?

"Am I doing this for me, or am I performing for others?"

very high standards. VERY HIGH STANDARDS.

Be obsessed with yourself.

2022 has been such a life-changing year for me, not only personally but also regarding my social media! As I already said on Twitter, I'm incredibly grateful for this little community that has formed this year, and I'm excited for all the things that lay ahead of us! I wish everyone a successful 2023 with many beautiful moments and lots of growth!!

✩‧₊*:・love ya ･:*₊‧✩

#2023 #manifesting #mindset #malusokay #glow up #new year #mental health #high maintenance #angelic #health and wellness #wellness #pink pilates princess #green juice girl #feminine aesthetic #light feminine #feminine energy #femininity #self growth #self love

6K notes · View notes

yandere-daydreams · 1 month

Text

tw - implied kidnapping, possessive behavior, slight stalking, delusional thoughts.

[commissioned piece. donate to palestinians in gaza here.]

Like most tailors, Chiori often finds herself preoccupied with the concept of preservation.

It’s as inevitable as it is unreasonable, for those who work through mediums as impermanent as fabric and textile. To make a piece of clothing is to make something that, by its very definition, cannot last. No matter how fine the silk, no matter how strong the thread, no matter how sturdy her design – colors will fade and stitches will run and eventually, the only thing left of her masterpiece will be a pile of scraps left to rot underneath a bed or among the cobwebs in a forgotten attic corner. Fashion is an even more unforgiving mistress. What does it mean to try and capture the beauty of a single moment in a world that stood for a thousand years before she ever thought to pick up a needle and will stand for a thousand more, when she’s no longer able to? What does it mean that she keeps trying, regardless?

Inevitably, when Chriori thinks about herself and her craft, she thinks about preservation. And, when she thinks about preservation, she thinks about you.

You, in the most generous of sentiments, are the enemy of permanence. Her designs may eventually fall apart, but you seem to tear and shatter all that you touch, to rend the very fabric of reality without ever dropping that achingly oblivious smile. Your first visit to her shop ended with a shattered teacup, your second with a chip to the blade of her favorite pair of sheers, your tenth with a pot of her darkest, blackest dye splattered across an otherwise untouched skein of dove-white silk. Calling you clumsy would be an understatement – you’re a vehicle of pure destruction, an entity of the type of chaos that so often reduces her finest creations to rags. If it wasn’t for the way you apologize so wholeheartedly after each and every offense, the bright optimism written across your expression each time you step through the door of her boutique, she might mistake your drastic lack of coordination for a deliberate act of sabotage. At least, if that were the case, she may be able to find the strength to banish you entirely from her domain.

Her frequent gifts to you – unpaid orders, she assures, items that would just go to waste if left to gather dust on her shelves – are demolished with a similar haste. That, you can blame on the needs of your trade, claim that the clothes of the noble class don’t mix with the work of laborers, but as often as she tries, she fails to see what’s so dangerous about hauling spools of ribbon and crates of lace from one boutique to another. You do your best to mend torn sleeves, to find replacements for missing buttons, but she almost wishes you wouldn’t – that you’d let her claims to you die a swift death rather than defacing them so humiliatingly. In her weakest moments, she considers that being more blatant with her intentions, speaking to you in something other than cutting innuendo and being more transparent in her attempts to carve her name into you, but it wouldn’t make a difference. Your nature, so quick and brash and thoughtless, is contradictory to hers. No number of signatures stitched into the hems of undercollars and lipstick stains pressed into the lining between layers of material can change that.

Certainly, none of it can change the trait Chiori finds most troubling in you – your willing inability to preserve even the most precious of things, yourself. Fontaine is a much more gentle land than Inazuma, but no part of Teyvat is completely free from risk. You brag worryingly often about your run-ins with local monsters, go on at length about having to guard the embroideries she had commissioned from the finest thread-painters in Liyue from fabric-eating slimes and especially fashionable thieves, but all your levity can’t seem to draw your attention from the bruises blossoming upward from your shirt collar, the bandages so often wrapped around knuckles and plastered over your cheeks. Mortality is a concept you seemed to have considered briefly and ultimately discarded, leaving Chiori to try to make something redeemable out of the scraps. It’d be enough to drive anyone mad. It’d be enough to drive any good tailor to extremes.

You are not a delicate fabric. Satin can be properly hemmed and handled with gloves, embroidery glazed over with perfumes and resins, lace held to a candle and burnt into a more sustainable form, but you are not so easily changed. Gowns have no regard for safety or the lack thereof, but you – frustrating, impossible you – seem to actively detest the very idea of it.

You are the enemy of permeance. It’s a thought Chiori often considers, lingers on, obsess over, as she would the safe keeping of any of her proudest works.

But, she finds herself thinking, as she feels the reassuring chill of iron chains again her palm and weighs it against two matching twin cuffs, there’s a chance she may just be pairing you with the wrong materials.

#woman loving wednesday #yandere x reader #yandere x you #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin imagines #yandere genshin #genshin impact imagines #yandere genshin impact #yandere chiori #chiori x reader #yandere imagines #yandere

359 notes · View notes

myfictionaldreams · 1 year

Text

I can’t lose you // Mafia!Stucky x fem!reader

Summary: Being the girlfriend of the Mafia leader and his second in command had its dangers but for years, you'd never had to experience this. Until now. How will the boys react when you're put in danger?

Requested by: @tinkerbellasstuff (thank you so much for the request!)

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, threesome, dom/sub, hostage, threats of violence, angst, fluff, hurt, size difference, double penetration, protective steve/bucky, anal and vaginal sex, oral sex (f receiving), multiple orgasms, overstimulation, daddy kink, praise kink, begging, subspace, pet names, not beta read

Word: 5.6k

my masterlist 📚 AO3 Link

“You know, this feels more like a treat for the both of you rather than me”, you explained watching Steve and Bucky skim through the dresses on the rack around the store and pile their favourites in front of you. Dating the leader of the Rogers mafia had its perks, Steve knowing all the right people had managed to book out the entire store for you to look and purchase anything that you wanted, something he liked to do on occasions to treat you. However, you always hated spending his money, the situation almost feeling wasteful so the shopping experience usually felt like you were being Bucky or Steve’s shadow as they searched through the clothes that they thought you would like or want you to wear which you much preferred to do. Especially as they both had a very good eye for picking out the most beautiful clothing, even though they seemed to be eye-watering expensive.

“If you bite that lip one more time hot mama, I’m going to take it out myself” Bucky muttered as he placed a suspiciously short black dress in front of you, not taking his eyes off of yours as he backed away, disappearing into the mass of clothing rails. Releasing the lip that you hadn’t realised was between your teeth as you shook your head, looking at the article of clothing now in your hands.

“You know, I might just let him”, Steve then whispered into your ear, making you jump not having noticed that he was close. It was now his turn to pass you a deep maroon silk dress. Both of your cheeks warmed at his words, something Steve seemed to notice as he leaned to peck your cheek and smile against your skin. “I love how easy it is to make your flush, baby”.

“I’m going to try some on!” you declared, standing quickly, holding the two dresses tightly in your hand, brushing past the Blonde mafia boss, ignoring his chuckle at your reactions as you moved into the empty changing rooms.

Breezing into one of the cubicles and shutting the curtain behind you, a few seconds passed as you decided which dress to try on first before finally going for the maroon dress. As you were about to ease the jumper up and over your head, a noise was heard on the other side of the curtain, stopping your movements. Smiling to yourself whilst simultaneously rolling your eyes, you shouted, “Steve, I’ve not even tried the first dress on yet, give me some time”-.

All words were cut off as the curtain was yanked to the side, revealing a deranged-looking man that you recognised from a few weeks ago. Not even daring to breathe as your heart pounded violently in your chest, staring at the man that you couldn’t quite remember his name, not that you could even remember your own when you noticed the gun being lifted to point directly at your forehead.

When you and Steve first started dating, he had spent hours going over how to react in different scenarios whether it was kidnap, being tied to a chair or being held at gunpoint but you’d never been in this sort of situation before, Steve and Bucky having never left your side for you to be in any danger. Trying your hardest not to allow fear to take over you completely, thinking hard over what Steve had taught you. The first was to show you were no threat, most of Steve’s enemies were triple the size of you and rather than trying to fight them off, you’d have to make them feel like they were in control so, you raised your shaking hands palms up, showing your surrender. Next was that you must follow their orders if and when necessary until help arrives, try and find out as much information as possible from the threat but as you looked into the desperate man's wild eyes, you didn’t want to risk upsetting him anymore by asking for his name. So you stayed in silence, as you heard Steve and Bucky talking close by, internally begging that you both stayed in there, you couldn’t even think about either of the boys being hurt but luck wasn’t on your side as he waved the gun in the direction of the boys, a silent command for you to walk ahead.

Exiting the changing cubicle, still facing the man, you took slow, steady steps backwards toward the main area of the store. “Turn around”, your heart dropped at his words, hating the fact that you had to have your back to the man with the gun.

Doing as commanded, you held back a scream as his arm was suddenly around your throat, not fully restricting your airwards but enough to make you struggle and grip his forearm to try and ease the tension as the cold tip of the gun was now pressed against your temple. He now led the way with his body behind yours, pushing you forward and entering the store once more. Your eyes desperately flicked between Steve and Bucky who both had their backs towards the two of you, still idly looking at clothes.

“Hands up!” the stranger shouted suddenly, making you jump, breath coming in shuddering bursts as you watched both of your boyfriends instinctively reached for their own guns in the holster attached to their chests but stopping when quickly when they turned and saw your predicament.

“Steve” you pleaded, hoping your voice wouldn’t annoy the man behind you but he didn’t say anything, only pushed the gun further into your temple causing a slight whimper to come out of your lips.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” the man demanded at Steve and Bucky’s movements. “Do you want me to blow a hole in her head, is that it? Both of you slowly, take out your guns and slide them over to me and if I hear either of your safety being clicked I can guarantee I will shoot her before you shoot me”. Both men stopped their movements instantly taking a second to contemplate the man's threats before slowly undoing the strap holding their guns to the belts and then sliding them across the floor until they knocked into your feet.

Now it had been a few minutes, and you had contemplated trying to disarm the man exactly how you’d been taught to do but now with the added pressure of both potentially being in the firing line and your increasing panic attack trembling beneath the surface, you decided against it. Instead, you tried to tug on his arm away from your neck as his rising anger only meant that he was cutting off your airway more.

Steve managed to catch your eye, seemingly not even blinking, almost like he was trying to communicate with you and for the most part, it helped you to steady your breathing. Your trust in Steve and Bucky was much more than the fear you held over the man holding you hostage but with their weapons now at your feet and they couldn't approach any closer, only the negative outcomes were consuming your thoughts entirely.

“Paul, don’t be stupid, point the gun somewhere else”, Steve’s voice remained calm as he addressed the man behind you, his name now sparking the memory of seeing him only two weeks ago in the boy's office, he looked just as angry then as he did now. Even as your body continued to tremble, you tried to hold eye contact with Steve’s unnaturally calm face, a clear comparison to Bucky’s when you had briefly glanced over and seen unfathomable rage, his body shaking slightly.

“Oh, should I? Did you do the same when my brother pleaded for his life a month ago?” Paul’s snarled, voice breaking slightly as if he was on the verge of tears. The hand holding the gun began to tremble with his heightening emotions but then he seemed to study himself, pressing it in further into your temple causing both pressure and pain to leave you gasping and knees buckling.

Steve and Bucky both shifted forward at hearing you in pain but Paul continued to shout, “stop! Hands-on your head, both of you. Did you really think you could get away with killing my brother? That there would be no repercussions for your actions, Rogers?”

You weren’t sure when but you’d begun to cry, wetness pooling down your cheeks, a sight that seemed to make Bucky flinch before he decided to speak up. “What do you think you’re going to achieve doing all this Paul? You kill her then what? We let you leave? Do you really think you’re going to get out of this situation without being skinned alive”. His voice was dripped with venom as he spoke and you could feel Paul shake slightly at the threat before he righted himself, standing to his full height which only caused you to stand on your tip toes from his grip around your throat.

“Maybe you’re right Barnes, I won’t get out of this alive, but what makes you so certain that you will?”

“No!” One moment the gun was pressed against your head and the next it was being pointed at Bucky and it was almost on instinct that you released your hold on his arm and reached for the gun, pulling it back to point at you. It was like a reflex, not fully comprehending what you’d done but judging by the dark looks in Steve and Bucky’s eyes, they weren’t happy with it.

What shocked you next was a chuckle coming from the man holding you, his mouth moving to your ear which only caused more rage in Steve’s eyes. “Do you really want to die for these murderers?” he whispered.

“Yes”, you answered honestly, without a moment's hesitation. Pauls's arm tightened around your throat with more strength, cutting off any chance of you breathing in. Struggling against his hold, eyes now closing as the overwhelming pressure increased in your head, white noise pounding in your ears.

“Have it your way then”, Paul continued, the cool tip of the gun once again pressing in against your head, if you’d opened your eyes you would have noticed Steve and Bucky make a move to step forward when the deafening bang of a gun firing echoed throughout the store.

Almost in an instant, the arm around your neck loosens so that you were able to suck in the deepest breath you’d ever experienced but it only caused you to cough violently, trying desperately to take more and more breaths as your knees gave way. A warm body caught you before were able to collide with the floor and Steve’s urgent voice was whispering in your ear as he was able to drag you across the store.

In the rush and panic of the store being raided by other members of Steve’s gang, you were able to spot Paul lifeless on the floor with blood pouring from the fatal wound in his head but Steve was quick to cup your cheeks and turn you away from the scene. “That’s it baby keep taking nice long breaths for me, in and out. Are you injured anywhere else? Are you ok?” You’d never heard Steve fully lose control like this before, no matter the situation he was always level-headed but he seemed just as close to having a panic attack as you were.

As he spoke, he continued to move you throughout the Store until the sun was beaming down on you and the car door was being opened for him to place you into the backseat. Steve’s thumbs brushed away the tears that had stained your cheek, you were able to respond. “Steve, I’m ok, I think, I’m-I’m fine” your fingers rubbed against your neck, something Steve was quick to notice.

His fingers lingered on the sore spot before leaning his face closer and fiercely kissing your forehead, taking a deep breath in, almost like he was trying to memorise your smell before swiftly leaving and shutting the car door behind him and walking back into the shop. Muffled, you were able to hear him shout to Bucky, “take her home, now!”

The brunette was out of the store and into the driver's side of the car in only a few strides, engine on and the store was far in the rear-view mirror. In the shock of suddenly driving off without Steve, your tears had ceased and concern had replaced fearful feelings as Bucky drove harshly through traffic, definitely going over the speed liit as he swerved around cars. “Bucky please slow down, we should have waited for Steve.”

“Put your seatbelt on”, was his only response, blue eyes unblinking as he stared ahead at the road. You couldn’t sit in the back and not be close to him, not after everything that had occurred so made the decision to quickly climb into the front of the car and into the passenger side seat.

“You need to put your seatbelt on as well”, you tried to tell him, fumbling with shaking fingers to clip in your own. Bucky didn’t say a single word as he kept one hand on the wheel, and the other helped to click your seatbelt before quickly doing his own. The two of you didn’t speak another word, even though you wanted to talk, tell him how much you love him, how scared you were, how thankful you are to him and Steve and the gang but every time your mouth opened, all thoughts dispersed.

Finally giving up on the words, you watched him carefully. How painfully his jaw was clenched, the metal hand that was holding the steering wheel so violently you could see the material was beginning to bend and he was sat so still you were sure for a moment that he wasn’t breathing.

So lost in watching Bucky, you’d not noticed that the two of you had arrived at the gates of your home until the car stopped directly outside of the front door. The silence was almost deafening as you swallowed thickly but Bucky’s thoughts seemed to be somewhere far away. Deciding to make the first step, you unclipped both your and Bucky’s seat belt.

“Don’t you ever point the gun at yourself and risk your life for me ever again, do you understand?” His voice was only just above a whisper, cold and full of passion as his eyes finally snapped to look at yours.

You weren’t sure what to respond with, on instinct wanting to disagree, having made the same decision a thousand times more but with the panic and hurt in his eyes, you weren’t sure you could have this conversation right now.

“Yes, I understand”.

“Good… because I can’t lose you” Bucky’s voice cracked as well as your heart as his eyes became glossy with unshed tears.

“I can’t lose you either”, you couldn’t hold back your emotions as warm tears escaped the corner of your eyes as the two of you reached for one another. Bucky opened his arms as you climbed across the car until you were straddling his lap, the steering wheel uncomfortable against your back but you didn’t care as he held you close to his chest. Finally, you released the pent-up emotions, sobbing into his shirt as he comforted you with soft whispers and delicate strokes of his fingers through your hair.

Eventually, your cries calmed and a soft buzz hummed through your veins, muscles relaxing into his hold, the warmth from his body consuming you thoroughly. “It’s ok, I’ve got you, no one’s going to hurt you now, I’m never letting you go”, Bucky continued to whisper comforts that made you feel safe.

A knock at the car window had Bucky shifting but you paid no attention to it, wanting to only be with Bucky, unsure of even how much time had passed. The sound of the door opening filled the silence, and then Steve’s voice was floating to your ears. “Is she asleep?”

“No I don’t think so, are you sweetheart?” Bucky asked before kissing the side of your head.

“I’m awake, sir” you were able to mumble, feeling even fuzzier, mouth dry and head spinning slightly. “I feel funny”.

“Lets’s get you inside baby” Steve encouraged, working with Bucky to ease you from the car and once more half-carrying you into your home.

Promptly you found yourself being placed onto the couch, your body melting into the cushions. Steve knelt before you as Bucky walked into the kitchen, returning a moment later with a glass of water, handing it to you which you gladly drank. The two men waited patiently for you to finish drinking before Steve took your hand.

“What happened today, I can promise will never happen again.” Bucky took your other hand as he sat next to you on the couch, looking at you just as intently as Steve was.

“I know-”

“Please let me finish. What happened today, I don’t know how that little weasel managed to sneak his way into the facility or get as close to you as he was able to hurt you. But please know, you will never be in harm's way ever again. If another person so much as looks at you wrong, I promise their lives will be quickly ended. In fact, I’m slightly annoyed that Sam ended that fucker as quickly as he had, he deserved to feel everything I had planned for him” Steve spat with venom before taking a quick steadying breath before continuing.

“I love you, Bucky loves you and I know you love us. Nothing like this will happen again, can you forgive us?”

“Forgive you? There’s nothing to forgive, you couldn’t have helped what happened. I knew what loving you both would be like, the danger I wanted to put myself in and I’d never blame you, I love you and nothing can change that.” The truth spilt from your lips in a blur, every word the truth and you wish there was a way that you could prove this more but you found yourself completely exhausted.

You tried to smile at the men who seemed still just as tense but as you caught each of their eyes with your own, they seemed to relax, squeezing your hands before Steve smiled back. “How are you feeling now? Does your neck still hurt?”

“Slightly, but mostly when I touch it or move my head, otherwise I’m ok, still feeling a little fuzzy” you admitted.

Bucky nodded your head, stroking a hand now your cheek to cup your face tenderly. “Did he injure anywhere else?”

“No, nowhere else”.

“Do you mind if we check?” Steve asked seriously, a slight crease appearing between his brows.

“Yes, of course, but you have nothing to worry about”.

“I still just want to be sure”. Each man sat beside you, your head turning in each direction causing you to wince at the movement. “Look forward Doll, we’ve got you”.

You did as instructed, trying to peak from the corner of your eyes as Steve and Bucky moved with the same idea in mind, inspecting a hand each in their lap before kissing each of your fingers delicately when they deemed there was no injury. Next, they turned your arms, looking at every inch of skin and then leaving a trail of kisses as they moved along the limbs. The tenderness in their movements had you shivering in anticipation, especially as they reached the shoulders and their heavy gaze was felt on your burning face.

Steve leaned forward first, the touch of his lips against your cheeks causing your eyes to shut in calmness. Then as Bucky’s lips connected with your other cheek, did Steve lean in to kiss you deeply, all emotions from the day, the love, everything went into the kiss and it had you moaning and almost wanting to cry and all too quickly he was pulling back and Bucky was taking his place, the metal hand stroking a stray of hair behind your ear.

As Bucky too moved back, you made to follow but the brunette paused your movements, his chuckle deep in his chest, “we still need to check the rest of your body first, mama”.

Steve's fingers gripped the edge of your shirt, pulling it up and over your head, leaving in just a simple lacy white bra that displayed your already perked nipples beneath. Their eyes, followed by their lips moved to your shoulders, causing a shiver to spark down your spine and goosebumps to litter your skin.

Steve moved back first as he reached the edge of your bra, “stand up for us baby”. He held up his hand for you to hold as you stood, turning you slightly so your front was facing Steve and your back was facing Bucky who was too now standing. Your breaths were coming out in short bursts as you tried to not look down as Steve knelt before you, hands resting on your hips, searching your body before leaning in a licking a single strip from your navel to the band of your bra.

Bucky was similarly doing the same except when he reached the lacy material, with one hand unclipped the clasps at the back, allowing for the material to slip from your shoulders, exposing your breasts to Steve who hungrily disposed of the material and seal his lips around one of your nipples, sucking it into his mouth. You let out an ungodly moan, back arching to be closer to Steve, hands lifting to hold onto his blonde hair but Bucky eased his own hands around you, tugging lightly on your wrists until they were in his grasp and behind your back.

Steve then moved to the other nipple, his hand squeezing the now wet and perky breast as his tongue teased the other, the sensations and pleasure pulsing to between your legs. Closing your eyes, you concentrated on his touch, the warmth and comfort that it gave you, as well as Bucky was still tenderly kissing up and down your spine, holding your hands together.

“Steve…” sighing as you spoke his name, feeling the need increasing in your cunt, thighs rubbing together to try and ease any sort of tension. With a wet pop, Steve unattached himself from your nipple, leaving it slightly swollen from his mouth's action and once more he continued his visual and physical journey down your body.

Helping you out of your jeans and underwear in one swift motion, dragging them down your legs, Bucky helping to keep you upright as the material was removed from each leg, both socks going with it until you were in the complete nude before them both.

Once again, Steve and Bucky worked in tandem with one another. As Steve lifted one leg up to cradle, he inspected your feet, calf and thigh, kissing and licking as he moved, and Bucky did the same with the leg you were trying to stand on. Both of them doing so was a difficult feat to achieve, especially as both reached your sensitive thighs that had your knee buckling therefore Bucky had to keep you upright but never faltered in his lips journey.

Your skin was now hot to the touch, especially as you could feel the cool air around you grazing over your damp upper thighs from where your desire had spread over and as Steve and Bucky reached the top of their individual thigh, you were already moaning for whatever their next moves were.

Even though you couldn’t see him, you could feel Bucky smiling against your arse cheek as he leaned in to peck each one quickly and then standing to his full height, standing so his clothed chest was against your naked back, arms trapped in the small space as both his arms encircled around your waist.

You were about to ask what he had planned but his actions proved the answer for this as he lifted you slightly, allowing your legs to drape over Steve’s shoulders and his face to delve between your legs, right to that spot you were so desperate for him to search. Instinctively your thighs clenched around his face as his thick tongue pushed between your folds, but he seemed to like being squeezed from the deep moan he purred.

Steve didn’t miss a single drip of liquid as he licked up and down your slit, slipping his tongue into your already clenching hole as far as he could reach before pulling out and moving up to your early awaiting clit that he greedily sucked into his warm mouth. You were completely overwhelmed by his wonderful mouth, a continuous stream of moans spilling from your mouth.

“Do you like that Doll? Do you like it when he fucks you with his tongue?” Bucky asked, his face had dropped so that his lips were ghosting over the shell of your ear.

“Yes, sir” you quickly agreed, wishing that your arms were free so that you could run it through Steve’s blonde hair. Bucky chuckled at your response, kissing your temple and continuing to hold you up for Steve to continue pleasuring you.

As Steve’s tongue swirled around your clit at an increased pace, you could feel the sudden tightening in your abdomen, a sensation that was only increasing with each stroke of Steve’s. “I’m going to cum daddy”, you announced, not being able to hold back the nickname anymore, needing them to know just how far gone you truly were in the pleasure.

The mafia leader seemed to like it if the smile against your pussy was anything to go by and the next moment, you felt the tip of two of his fingers breach your cunt, stretching it out. Once again, the duo worked together, Bucky began whispering encouragements in your ear, “cum for us Doll, that’s it mama, cum all over his face”, and Steve began curling his fingers against that spot within that had you seeing stars as his mouth sucked harshly on your clit.

It only took another breath and the overwhelming sensation consumed your entire body, back arching, legs twitching and cunt convulsing and his fingers as you orgasmed hard. The pleasure was almost overwhelming as you tried to regain your normal breathing pattern.

“I want you both” you declared after a moment, wanting nothing more at that moment than to feel you all connected and to feel full of their cocks. Steve eased a few inches away from your cunt, looking up at you which you could now see as you glanced down with half-lidded eyes.

“I think we should take it easy today, we don’t want to put you under too much pressure today, you need to rest”.

You weren’t able to hold back to annoyed sigh, even if you had tried to. “Well you should have thought about that before checking me for marks, I want you both, please daddy”.

“Sassy Girl”, Bucky whispered against your cheek as he still held you up.

“Fine, but give it some time, we need to prep you first” Steve finally agreed but you were still being impatient.

“No, I want to feel it, I know I can take it, I just want to feel you both now and it was only this morning that you’d both fucked me anyway. I promise I can take it” you tried to reason with him, sticking out your lower lip for better effect as he looked up at you from his position still on his knees.

Steve and Bucky seemed to have a silent conversation with each other, something that you’d decided was taking way too long as you wiggled your hips, knocking slightly into Steve’s face. “Fine, you win baby” he finally relented, standing up and dropping your shaky legs to the floor.

Thankfully Bucky was still holding up most of your weight as you tried to hide your shit-eating grin as Steve began undressing, your eyes dropping to the throbbing cock, already dripping to be inside of you. Steve let out a deep chortle, your eyes looking up at his face to see his smile curved into a beautiful smirk as he held out his arms for you.

“Come here, sweetheart”, the mafia leader helped to grasp your hips, lifting you up until your legs were wrapped around his waist, hands that were once trapped behind your back were now gripping the short hair at the nape of his neck.

Your lips were instantly connected with his, desperately moving and pressing against his soft ones, tongue even slipping between. You were utterly breathless and only pulled back to gasp as the tip of his cock pressed against your awaiting hole, pushing in slowly, making sure to give you time to adjust to his size.

“Fuck you feel so good” he praised in your ear, teeth then nibbling the soft lobe as you moaned and tried to refrain from dropping your head back as your neck still ached slightly.

From behind you, Bucky swiftly removed his clothes, moving his hand up and down his shaft a few times as he watched you hungrily from behind, waiting for the moment Steve glanced at him and gave a swift nod and then stepped forward so his chest was once more touching your back, one hand now resting on your hip and the other at the base of his cock.

“Remember Doll, if you want me to stop use the colour code, ok? We’ll take this nice and easy hot mama.”

Bucky's voice was calm as he talked you through his motions as he aimed his cock towards your asshole. Both of the mens body heats were helping your body to relax as you closed your eyes, leaning your head delicately against Steve’s shoulders, taking a few deep breaths and trying not to tense around Steve’s cock that was still inside of your cunt as Bucky began to penetrate you.

Without the fucking session from the morning, you wouldn’t have been able to take him without any prepping as both men were significantly sized. Even with the morning, the stretch of Bucky’s cock still had you squeezing your eyes tightly, trying to remain relaxed so that it wouldn’t hurt as inch after inch delved deeper until his full cock was twitching inside, matching Steve’s.

You almost felt beyond full, your muscles between your legs stretching to the max and you were thankful that they were so tentative of your feelings, letting you take your time to adjust, taking a few deep breaths before attempting to raise your hips slightly, indicating that you were ready.

Bucky and Steve then took complete control so that all you had to do was hold onto Steve and melt into their bodies as they began slowly rolling their hips, working together to drag across every single one of your nerves that had you screaming out in pleasure.

They began slowly, making sure to still not cause you any harm but before long you couldn’t take the reserved pace. “Please go faster, I need you to fuck me harder daddies, please!”

You sounded desperate and that’s because you were, wanting to feel the rough slaps of their hips, the way their fingers clenched harder into your skin as they started to lose control of their own restraints. You needed this thought, needing to forget about the day's events, about how close you were to losing them both.

The orgasms you were experiencing were enough to make you forget your own name, only being able to scream there as your cunt and asshole tightened and contracted almost consistently around them but they didn’t relent their movements.

Maybe you were lost in subspace, the surroundings have become fuzzy, or maybe you were just cock drunk but at some point, tears began to leak from the corners of your eyes.

“I can’t lose either of you” you sobbed, head tipping back against Bucky, not caring about the pain you experienced in your neck from the movement.

Both men stopped fucking you which was the exact opposite of what you wanted as you desperately moaned, “please don’t stop!”

They did as instructed, almost trying to move closer, kissing along your shoulder and face, catching any tears that had slipped out as they put as much emotion into their fucking as you were into your moaning.

“I’m not going to let anyone hurt you, ever! I love you” Steve grunted as his hot cum coated your pussy, dripping out and onto the floor as he sloppy slowed down his thrusting.

Bucky continued to fuck you hard, your cunt already spasming through another orgasm, you weren't even sure what number it was anymore.

“I’m going to always protect you mama, don’t forget that” Bucky grunted, his balls tightening to his body as you were able to moan out ‘i love you’ as he found his own release, his cum dripping down and missing with Steve’s.

All three of you were breathing heavily, sweating glistening your naked bodies as you kept your eyes closed. Bucky and Steve had pulled out at one point but continued to hold you up between them.

“You with us baby?” Steve asked, kissing your forehead, not caring about the sweat.

“Daddy…” you mumbled, sounding half asleep.

Bucky smiled into your shoulder, kissing it once before taking a step back, “don’t worry Doll, we’re going to look after you” he promised, watching as Steve began to carry you up to the bedroom, planning to get you washed and into bed. Even if tomorrow the full extent of the day's events hits you, you knew that Steve and Bucky would be there for you no matter what.

#mafia au #steve rogers smut #stucky smut #steve rogers one shot #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes smut #bucky smut #bucky barnes one shot #steve rogers fanfic #marvel smut #marvel one shot #stucky one shot #mafia steve rogers #mafia bucky barnes #mine*

2K notes · View notes

tanuki-kimono · 1 year

Note

Hello! I keep reading fiction with kimono hemmed to fit, and I keep thinking that can't be right. I can see it if their genes mean widening shoulders, but aren't kimono folded and tucked under the obi? Thank you for looking over this detail. (I'll stay anonymous because it's an honest mistake, and I don't want specific writers to feel cornered about it)

Hi! Np for this anon ask, I'll just stress here I most often reply via Tumblr messenger so don't hesitate to ask for private answer if you need it :)

On to your question: you are right, hemming (in the Western sense of the word) a kimono is not usually done in traditional Japanese tailoring.

One of the main reasons is that fabric bolts (tanmono) are a somehow standard unit, with patterning done with kimono tailoring in mind (so motifs match between panels etc).

Hemming a kimono means important parts of your kimono design will disappear! It is especially true for woman's kimono who often often display patterns on their lower skirt + sleeves.

When you wear a kimono with woman styling, the kimono is supposed to be more or less your total height to fit you size. The extra material is then tucked at the waist to form what is called the ohashori fold hold up by ties (himo). That fold gives you leeway as to which kimono you can wear as it is much more forgiving than Western clothes sizing. Being tall simply mean your ohashori will be small or non existent.

Men styling is a bit different as men don't do ohashori, which mean the kimono is tailored to their exact size (= give or take your height minus 30cm).

Kimono were usually passed to new wearers as time went, which means they are supposed to be worn by several body types. So, what about when a kimono is truly too big/small for the wearer?

Fabric was once (and still is) an expensive material so cutting it was a big no! Cutting also meant loosing the original tanmono panneling which was a terrible thing to do for any future alterations.

We so have two scenarios:

1) the wearer is a child: tucks are made at the shoulders (kata age) to reduce width, waist (koshi age) to reduce lenght, and sleeves (sode age). You can see in this past note a great example showing how a kid grew into a kimono:

2) The wearer is an adult: the kimono would have been totally unsewn, and then sewn back together, hiding the extra material into seams/letting the fabric needed for bigger wearer.

Taking a kimono apart is not especially unheard of, and it is actually the traditional way to clean it (tokiarai = unstitching a kimono and washing / araihari = stretching pieces of a kimono on boards to dry after they have been washed and starched). You can see it done here:

youtube

Becky from Silk and bones has many kimono specimen photographed if you want to actually see how they are made - and just how much fabric can be hidden away into seams + how disastrous and infuriating it is to have a kimono with butchered cut fabric :(

TL:DR : People don't "hem" their kimono to wear them, women for ex. tuck the extra fabric away and go in their merry way. If sewing is needed, "hemming" is not exactly what would be done in kimono tailoring. A better way to describe it would probably be "adjusted" or "altered" to size :)

460 notes · View notes

justpoliteconversations · 1 month

Text

Comfort [Mer!Warriors + Reader]

All it takes is a single moment for everything you think you know to flip on its head.

I originally had different plans for this AU continuation, but I came across a post of someone asking for a comfort fic and thought I'd try.

Masterlist

Part: 1 / 2

TW: Maybe? Hard to tell sometimes.

Disclaimer: Don't own The Legend of Zelda franchise. Linked Universe is the fan creation of jojo56830.

---

It had been a long day. Between back breaking work and the weariness of too long spent fighting to maintain your composure, the weight of all your hardships seemed to have finally caught up to you. You were just so tired, but even the promise of escape sleep offered seemed impossible to achieve.

Not with this overly spoiled creature screeching (elegantly, somehow. God damned elegantly. like a fully accompanied angel's choir) for your attention. As though this was something you two routinely did (for the record, it wasn't. you didn't know what his damned problem was). And ignoring him wasn't working, as it was going on the second hour now and he had somehow only gotten louder.

You honestly just wanted to cry. You just wanted to sleep.

You just wanted a break that didn't make you feel guilty. Guilty for not wanting to live up to everyone's expectations for once. For just wanting to sit down, eat something horrendously unhealthy, and then maybe nap for a few hours before dinner. And then go right back to sleep without everyone expecting you to fix every damned problem that blew their way.

The perfect day (but it wouldn't be. not really. because you couldn't even imagine closing your eyes when there was still so much to do). And it was being thoroughly destroyed (it was never something that existed anyway) by the unceasing, unholy (ethereal) screeching of the Center's resident golden boy.

How the mer knew just when to start acting up when no one but you was around, you'd probably never know. But it was damned concerning, and annoying. Especially when he decided to be difficult. Like now (oh God. why'd it have to be now when you were at your lowest).

You'd give in eventually, you knew. It was inevitable, and both him and you knew this. You couldn't afford to leave him to his own devices for too long, especially when he had a habit of taking out his frustration on your co-workers when ignored (and not even in an obvious way either. but underhandedly. like 'accidently' splashing water on their phones and equipment during his more enthusiastic performances).

You heard his screech again, but this time you could hear the low edge that entered his cry. Like the threat of a blade gliding delicately under a silk cloth, smooth and lilting and deadly in its sharpness. A dark, foreboding promise all wrapped up in a beautiful symphony of sweet nothings.

"I'm coming! Just give me a moment!" You finally called out, wincing at the way your voice nearly wobbled. Frustration and exhaustion mixing together into a singular moment of weakness.

It was silent then, and a form of primeval dread filled your stomach at the sudden stillness in the air. Because there was no way he hadn't heard the shake of your voice, nor the emotions that caused it. There was absolutely no way he didn't realize how vulnerable you were at the moment.

Numb. Suddenly, you were numb all over. From your ears to your toes, you could feel the cold pinprick of tingling nothingness itching just below your skin. But through it all, even as your feet took you to the bottom of War's tank ladder, you felt oddly detached from your body.

Ah. You were afraid. As tired and as emotionally drained as you were, you still somehow managed to drudge up enough self-preservation to be afraid of Wars. And you weren't sure how to feel about that. You hadn't really thought about it in a long time. Just how much power he now had over you, after that fateful day you'd come to his tank and cut him a deal.

You still didn't want to think about it. You just wanted to get this over with and go to sleep. You didn't even care that you'd regret this later, when you could finally think past the numbness that had settled over your limbs.

And there he was, from one step on the ladder to the next. Quiet, still as death and submerged up to his eeriely shining, dilated eyes in the dark water of his sleeping tank. The inky blackness of the night around him fading the long, billowing ends of his fins into a smoky wisp of shimmering starlight.

You'd forgotten how beautiful he was at night, when the faint luminescence of his fins and scales ran golden fireflies across the darkened navy of his elegant blue fins. How his enchanting, predatory eyes caught even the faintest hints of starlight and built entire galaxies along the darks of them. How he smiled so prettily when he rose from the water, even if you knew it was a lie (fake. dangerous).

The smile was different this time though. There was something sharper about it, so similar yet so different from the charming upturn of plush lips he so often used to entice the unwary into his clutches.

It was enough to unnerve you, this unknown expression that had settled so distinctly upon his pretty face. Enough even to pull you from your exhausted haze and into something almost approaching alertness. Your nerves firing with renewed unease, even several meters above the water and (allegedly, though you didn't believe that for a second) out of War's reach.

And then he lifted a single, elegant hand. Raised a single, elegant finger. And beckoned you to him in a gesture so human it nearly drew a blush to your cheeks (much to your shame).

If you ever discovered who taught him that gesture, you'd skin them yourself. You swore it. But that was for later, because right then you were frozen in shock. Not even because of the connotations behind such a gesture while an attractive male such as him was behind it.

No. It was the meaning behind the gesture.

"No." You said, so pumped full of adrenaline you didn't even feel the exhaustion that'd been weighing down your bones just moments before. "I'm not that far gone, Wars. No matter what you think you heard."

His eyes narrowed just the slightest bit, condescending and frustrated both. Flickering. Dilating. Contracting.

It would be almost funny, to see a mer as smug and put together as Wars showing anything other than slight annoyance (and honestly, it usually is). But right now, with the darkness closing in from all sides and the weight of everything haunting your every step, it was a reminder. A reminder that for all you had managed to keep your composure around this predator, you were still afraid.

You were afraid. And you always had been. From the moment you set eyes on him and knew (just knew, when no one else could see it) that this creature was hunting you and everyone else around him. Even bloodied and mangled and trapped as he was, he had never stopped hunting. That he watching you, just as you were watching him. Always.

He gestured again, tilting his head slightly. Another gesture that sent warning signals straight into your brain, causing your breathing to pick up and a light sheen of cold sweat to start forming on your shoulders, back and forehead. His eyes had fully dilated by now as well, adding an even more alien quality to his unnaturally beautiful features.

You swallowed, trapped between your self-preservation instincts screaming at you to turn tail and run, and the logic of your mind quietly reminding you that this predator would have killed you already had he wanted (that he could kill someone else too, if he felt the need to call your bluff). Because he would. You knew that. Accidents happened all the time. What was one more? (He'd probably fake tears too. the bastard.)

You glanced off to the side, the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end under his unnatural stare. "Wars I- You know that's not how this works."

You were met with silence. You were too shaken (too compromised) to even think of meeting his gaze. The sharp, unfaltering, stunningly inhuman gaze.

The faint rippling of water. A slight swoosh. And then.

A great, echoing splash. The catwalk under you shaking and nearly tilting as a great weight was suddenly upon it. The flash of shimmering gold across a sea of dark blue. And suddenly he was in your face, so close you could see the ring of blue, blue, blue encircling the dark pools of his eyes.

You couldn't move. You couldn't scream. You couldn't even breathe. Not when he leaned further into your space (so close now you could see the glitter of scales under his eyes. like gold dust). Not when a clawed, webbed hand came up to your fear stricken face. Not when your skin touched for the first time (warm. soft. supple. nothing like your mind had always imagined it).

Not when his powerful (deadly. predator's. killer's) arms gently (so gently. almost tenderly. but that can't be it because he's him and you're you) pulled you into his chest. Not when he pulled you both down until he was laying along the catwalk with you laying flush on top of him. And not when he buried his face (his mouth. his lips. his teeth. teeth. teeth.) into your hair and just...breathed.

In. Out. In. Out. Steady. Even. Inevitable. His large, warm hands on your back, claws delicately kneading into your clothes. His chest rumbling, so faint you'd have missed it entirely had you not been tucked up under his chin (had he not been pressing you into the place in his chest the vibrations were strongest).

Slowly, your breath returned to you. You began to calm. Your mind begun to clear. And you realized, with sudden clarity, what it was that was happening. What this behavior was.

The gentle nipping at your hair. The tender kneading of his (sharp) claws into the thick ruffles of your clothes. The way he had cradled your significantly smaller body into his larger form and curled his silky (thick, powerful) tail fins around you as best he could with so little space.

The way his whole chest seemed to vibrate. The sound so low it was nearly nonexistent. An action you hadn't known Wars was even capable of, let alone willing to utilize. For a human of all things.

You swallowed, not daring to take your eyes off the gleam of his collarbone (shimmering, even in the dark). "Are you trying to comfort me?"

He pushed you harder into his chest, under his chin. His face nuzzling deeper into your hair, until his mouth was pressed softly against the shell of your ear. His hot breath fanning against your sensitive skin.

"Mine." He cooed (disjointed and raw, unnatural but hauntingly beautiful), one hand having found its way up into the fine hairs at your nape. Just holding them between gentle fingers, thumb caressing your exposed neck. "Strong. Brave." He hummed.

He nosed at the delicate lining of your ear. Nuzzling you. "Beautiful." He purred, pulling away just enough to force you to meet his eyes. His gaze so black you saw yourself reflected in them. "Always mine. Give me. Everything bad."

Looking into his liquid night, blue-mooned eyes. Feeling his hands cradling you protectively, possessively, trying to separate you from the world beyond. You finally understood. Everything.

Wars was territorial after all. Of his space. Of his food. Of his resources. Of anything, everything that was his. That he'd claimed.

Knowing that, how could you have forgotten the most important resource a mer can ever possess? When it had been staring you in the face this whole time?

Warmth began to build behind your eyes, and try as you might, you felt the gates you had held so tightly closed for so long beginning to slip from your grasp. And you just couldn't believe it. That this was really about to happen.

In front of Wars of all creatures. The one predator that had everyone fooled.

But that was the thing, wasn't it. From the very beginning, for all his smiles and sweet nothings, never had he truly tried to hide his fangs from you. Never you. Even as he kept the rest of the world at an arms length away.

He had let you in (had reeled you in). He had let you see (had forced you to see) the dark shaded colors of his heart. His truest self.

Honesty, completely and utterly, from a creature that thrives off deception. How could you have been so blinded by your fear you'd not noticed.

The first few tears finally escaped down the curve of your cheek, and when a gentle, tender, loving thumb came to wipe them away. You broke, and it all came pouring out. In the arms of the predator you still feared so much, but knew, without question, would never allow harm to befall you.

Because he is a territorial mer. And there is nothing a mer covets more than their pod. Their family. Their reason for everything else that follows after.

And Wars, the mer who never wanted to leave. Who, after all was said and done, was still a mer like any other. Had no one but you. Only you. By choice. By fate.

By design.

You'd been hunted. And you'd been caught. And now he would never let you go. And he would protect you from everything.

For as long as he lived.

---

Back to the shadows.

#linked universe #linked universe x reader #merman warriors

139 notes · View notes

tangerinesgirl · 2 months

Text

Unravel

AFAB!Reader x Mark Hoffman

Word count: 1.8k

Rating: explicit, 18+, no minors

Warnings: smut, masochism, size difference, some brief talk of weight, creampie, mostly Dom!Reader but some Dom!Mark, spitting, p in v

Summary: Your ex, Mark, has no where to go after the glass coffin trap and needs your help...even though you've been on a break.

Notes: I wanted to challenge myself to write a fic that has more detail this time. Reading my works back they all seem super quick to get into the action. So let me know what you think and I hope you enjoy!

You jump out of your skin at the loud bang against your apartment door. You begrudgingly roll over to the bedside table to check your phone: 1:03AM. Sighing, you put on slippers and stagger to the door. There's a more polite knock this time as you look through the peep hole: it's Mark Hoffman.

You and Mark had a rocky relationship ever since he became an apprentice for John Kramer. You found out from his clothing being torn, covered in oil and miscellaneous substances, or just straight up gone missing, and confronted him about it. He showed you the way of the traps and Kramer's ideology, part of you was sick to your stomach thinking about how many people have died like this, but the other part of you was seriously into how he would build the traps, brainstorming ideas and coming home all hot and bothered. But in the end, you had to take a break, Mark couldn't commit to a relationship as he was essentially married to his work. What you both had was fun, but you always wanted something more.

You unlock the door and Mark tumbles into your flat and walks straight into the kitchen. When you turn around you notice his once silk blue shirt is now red, full of cuts and glass shards. You don't quite know how he got to you; did he drive? Walk? Either way it was impressive how he's still standing. He swipes the kitchen table clean and dumps a first aid kit down. "Fix me", he demands of you. You sigh, thinking about how many months have passed without hearing from him and he turns up like this out of the blue, then inevitably grab some tweezers and sterilising fluid.

Nothing more is said after that, the only sound in the room is you cutting off Hoffman's shirt. Mark had actually trained you in first aid since he started up the traps, to cover for all eventualities. Things like how to stitch a wound, fix dislocations, and so on. You didn't think you'd actually have to use it when he left. It's not exactly like he could fish out the shards himself so it made sense in a way, even though it was painful for you to see him again. Maybe not as painful as the actual glass in his back though. You carefully start removing pieces from him, every so often he flinches but stays as stoic as ever. You put each shard on the table, disinfecting the tweezers as you go. It's painstaking, especially without a word being said. There's too many thoughts whizzing around your head, you wouldn't even know where to start, so you focus on your work instead.

You dab at the wounds with wipes, you notice a couple of particularly deep ones need stitches, and few more need steri-strips. You start to unwind your thread, and begin to close them up. He still flinches and groans occasionally as you fix his wounds. You're surprised you have enough steri strips for the rest. You give it one last glance over to make sure there's no more tint hidden pieces. Once you're happy with your work, you start to pack the rest of the stuff away.

As you reach for an unused bandage, Hoffman suddenly grabs your wrist. You turn to look at him, and he looks at you, deeply into your eyes, as if to say "thank you" without actually saying it, since that wasn't really part of his nature. He then glances down briefly at your lips. He thinks you didn't notice, but you did, and you look down at his too.

There's a lot of tension in the room, and you find it extremely hot that not a word has been said in the last two, maybe three, hours. You've lost track of time, you always do when Mark is around, because nothing else matters. You start to move forward into a kiss but you stop, inches away from him. Mark looks at your lips again. Then he suddenly puts his hand on the base of your skull behind your head and grips your hair. You let out a little surprise gasp.

Then everything happens so fast.

Mark slams his lips against yours, like a man starved, his kisses are desperate and all tongues. You both lightly moan through the heavy kisses, you sit on his lap and start to drag your hand through his hair in exchange, tugging occasionally. You start grinding while on his lap, searching for more. You can feel his member through his trousers. Then you accidentally knock one the cuts on his back and he groans out in pain, however you couldn't help but notice his cock twitch as you did so, now semi erect. You both stop for a bit and share a glance, not one of humiliation but of realisation. You raise an eyebrow, intrigued, and start to purposefully play with one of his stitched wounds. Mark moans and quickly grabs your other hand that's resting on his chest.

"Stop", he commands. There's clearly some unsaid things between you and Mark. You stop and look at him, you both look at each other with need and desperation.

"I don't know how far I'll go, I can't promise I'll be gentle", Mark has danger in his eyes.

"I know", you admit. Mark was always the kind to take out a rough day at work through sex, and you had a feeling tonight was no exception. But it somehow felt different. It could be the time you've had away from each other, or whatever he experienced that night had him particularly wound up.

"Same safe word?", you ask. He nods slightly, and in a flash he's back to passionately kissing you. He lifts you up, trying to walk you to the bedroom, but can't see where he's going as he's so tied up in the moment. He slams you into a wall, you moan as the air is pushed out of you.

You break the kiss momentarily to remove your top, you must have each other now and can't wait until you're in the bedroom. Mark removes your bra, his hands replacing it. His hands are so large, one hand seems to cover your entire chest. His rough skin feels amazing on your soft breasts. You moan as you remove your underwear. Mark breaks the kiss to kick off his trousers and underwear. He catches you looking at his erection, he walks back over to you and grabs your hair.

"How do I look?", he growls in your ear. You moan and start to kiss him again.

Without warning he pushes his cock into you. You forgot how well he filled you up. He was just the right size, but girthier than average. His thickness stung a little since he slammed into you without warning, but it's a good thing you were already slick with arousal. You hold him around his neck as he's lifting you up. Your legs wrapped around his waist as he's slamming into you against the wall.

With him still inside you, he then carries you over to the kitchen table. It's a good thing you packed everything away earlier. You put your feet on the edge, with your back on the table. Mark continues to push inside of you, sweat starting to glisten down his forehead, onto his large chest. Somewhat hairy, but oh so broad. His frame and arms have always been a turn on for you. Sometimes he was self conscious about his weight but you found it extremely hot. Especially the way it felt on top of you.

You sit up, breaking his momentum briefly, as you can feel the table shake, becoming more and more unstable. You push him to the chair where he was sat as you were cleaning his wounds, and motioned for him to sit down. You straddle him like before, only this time you were completely naked. You haven't felt this powerful for a while. You start to ride him, reaching behind you to start and fondle his balls. He tilts his head back in pleasure, mouth wide open. You stop briefly to hold his jaw open, you look over him as a dribble of your spit travels into his mouth. You forcefully close his mouth to get him to swallow, and continue to ride him.

It's not often you're able to take charge, but you were enjoying it. Hoffman, even though he wouldn't admit it afterwards, likes to think he's dominant at heart, but also loves it when someone takes control.

Your hands start to trail down his back once again. You could feel a few of his stitches had begun to unravel. Mark hisses as you trace your fingers over them. You stop briefly, making sure he was okay with you going further. After no safe word, you continue to pluck open a wound. Mark pretty much jumps out of his seat, slamming into you as he does so. You both moan, the lines of pleasure and pain blurring. You start to dip your finger into the warmth, blood coating your finger and travelling down his body.

"Y/N, I'm gonna-", Mark trails off. You remove your finger, and smear the blood as you caress his face. Around his lips, his jaw, down to his neck.

Mark is VERY into this, he's a massive masochist and seeing you like this has his mind going into overtime. What traps could you come up with? Maybe you could come with him during the next game, getting off on your hard work, putting each other in a trap, and seeing others in them. Watching them struggle in your game, totally oblivious to you and Mark having the steamiest sex of your lives over the monitor.

At this thought, he starts to cum inside of you. The biggest orgasm of his life. You continue to ride his orgasm out of him, the amount of cum you can feel inside you also triggers your orgasm. Mark slams you down by your shoulders to get you to stop moving as his penis slowly grows softer and twitches inside of you. You collapse into Mark's chest, both of you breathless.

You both sit there for a moment, taking everything in. Mark still inside you, his cum leaking out onto the chair, onto the floor, mixing with the blood from his wound that you opened.

You eventually move and mention that you should clean him back up. Mark reluctantly agrees. Neither of you decide to put your clothes back on, as you start to disinfect the table and open your first aid kit again. You mend his stitches and clean him up, and Mark is giving you that look again. Looking at your lips, totally helpless. You sigh as you realise you'll be stitching him back up once again.

#fanfic #mark hoffman x reader #detective mark hoffman #mark hoffman #afab reader #saw #saw fanfic #hoffman x reader #mark hoffman x you #mark hoffman x y/n #hoffman x y/n #glass coffin

87 notes · View notes

neechees · 6 months

Note

do you have any tips for someone who wants to make their own regalia? I've always wanted to make my own fancy shawl but I have no idea where to start 😞

Ive actually already posted some tips as well here, so go have a look at part one on tips and tricks for making regalia :) I'm still not especially good at sewing, but I HAVE done some fancy shawl designing & sewing before, & I know these tips and tricks from my family sewing a lot as well (so I have the information, but the success in execution on my part is still debatable dvdfudhf). So here's what I know:

There's actually some fancy shawl regalia patterns for sewing if you're not confident in designing the actual cut & style of the fabric yourself! Try find one if you'd like somewhere to have a template.

If you're more inclined to design something yourself, try sketching/coloring out some designs & color palettes. Even if you're using a template, having an idea for what colors you want for the designs & where will help a lot beforehand. Making something like a pinterest board for inspo can help (but remember not to directly & exactly copy designs you see on pre-existing fancy shawl regalias) like, what base color do you want your shawl to be? What about fringe? Is the skirt a different color? Stuff like that. Even play around with the same color palette but arranged differently. (Also, I suggest bringing your finalized design with you when you go shopping for fabric so you can get something as close as possible)

^connected to the above, but if you have a set color palette in mind, this could also help you with any matching beadwork. Beadwork could potentially be even more expensive than the rest of your outfit if you buy it separately or even if you bead it yourself (but this could depend on different things). So if you're like me & not bougie, then having a color palette set could help you accumulate beadwork overtime. Like you might buy one hair barrette for $20, then some earrings for $35, and then make your own hair ties: they won't be a matching set, but looking for beadwork of similar color palettes to your regalia will help bring it together. & don't worry, lots of dancers do this. Lots of dancers even have mismatching beadwork/accessories (like me lol). It's also not uncommon to have accessories that a sewn from fabric instead of beadwork/quillwork so you could do this too!

As mentioned in part one, if you don't have access to canvas or you just wanna save some money, you can use old jeans to cut up & use for things like your cape & vest, a cloth belt, & your leggings. Youd put your colored/chosen fabric on top of the jeans, & the jeans won't be seen. If you need, double up the jeans for stability/structure.

I suggest not skimping out & using jeans for moccasins (particularly the bottom) bc your footwear needs to be tough, and jeans will absolutely get demolished if you use them for moccasins. Use canvas and/or leather for moccasins, especially the bottom/soles.

You can pretty much use any fabric you want for your regalia, but satin/silks & cotton are probably the most common for fancy shawl dancers to use, and note that various other fabrics might come with their own pros and cons. Ideally you want something not too heavy, breathable, comfortable, and if you can, easily washable & iron safe. This just makes the sewing process a bit easier, and maintenance less hectic. But for things like the fabrics you might use for the designs on your shawl, go ham & use whatever you think looks pretty

General regalia sewing tips: I suggest making your skirt/dress length to about your calves if you want to show off your moccasins & leggings. Also, having a skirt that is wider at the bottom helps with leg movement & dancing. Make your shawl a bit longer than your actual spread arms length. Your ribbons/fringe can also be sewn up a little on the sides of your shawl rather than just the bottom. Remember to hem the raw edge of your fabric so it doesn't fray, either a folded or rolled em or bias tape works well.

Btw the "cape" is the part that hangs over your fancy shawl in the back, on your back, and its usually attached to your vest or is a yoke (so no vest, & this style usually incorporates a belt instead).

Plumes are very in fashion right now for fancy shawl dancers, but regular eagle feathers are also used, & were more popular in the earlier 2000s, so both work fine.

So I hope that helps!! Good luck!!

#pow wow #anonymous #long post #ndn

27 notes · View notes

floydsmuse · 5 months

Note

Meggy m'love!!!!!! I have to say thank you from the deepest depths of my soul for sending in that delicious, savory thot in regards to Calvin's bday. Not gonna lie, I thought I was gonna need to run to the nearest Wal Mart to get a new pair of pants (lol).

I just can't get it out of my head how soft Calvin is with the babies, it's literally been hanging out in the back of my head from day one!!!! (lol).

I'd imagine when it gets really, really cold, he's bundling Ellen up for bed in her little pjs, her pink sweater and her little cap and covering her with her crocheted blankie. It's an older house so the place is a little bit on the drafty side, but once the fireplace is going at night, it's so warm and toasty.

Some nights have been so cold that she can't sleep in her crib and instead has to sleep with you and Cal. The bed is big enough but Calvin's always nervous that she's gonna get hurt sleeping between the both of you. You yourself was nervous about it but after a while, you and Calvin had nothing to fear and plus with Six-Thirty sleeping at the foot of the bed, it made things much easier.

Calvin loves snuggling with his tiny little princess on a cold day. Calvin doesn't run in the winter but he loves snuggling on the couch with Ellen all curled up against him and Six-Thirty's head in his lap while the fire's crackling away. You wanted to get some Christmas decorating done and couldn't help but sneak a polaroid of him with the baby which you keep in your purse.

Her first little stuffie too from Cal was one that he got while you and Ellen were both in the hospital. He had passed by a small toy store on the way home and saw a teddy bear with a little pink silk ribbon around its neck and couldn't resist. Even when Ellen got older, she was inseparable from her bear.

But when the babies are sick it's a whole different story.

Ellen's still a very little baby but the seasons changing from warm to cold definitely hits the house hard but a few weeks before Christmas break and her first birthday, she gets a really, really bad case of whooping cough and it scares the shit out of you and Calvin.

Even though he was scared shitless, Calvin stayed up all night with her and so didn't Six-Thirty. You and Cal were completely baffled as to how she could have gotten it seeing as she had her shots for it when she was born. Even still, you were both determined to help her get better any way you could.

Calvin had cut his classes back to half days only until after Christmas break and as soon as his students were done with the last class in the lab, he booked it straight home to help you and Baby Ellen. Poor baby was coughing so hard you thought she'd bust a rib. Calvin was in that kitchen the rest of the afternoon, grading papers be damned, to try and make something that would help his little princess. Eventually his mom's home remedies on top of the medicine that the doctor gave her helped and in a few days, she was cleared up.

Meggy, feel free to add whatever you want to this, I'm dying to hear it. If ever you wanna leave anything in the inbox you are always welcome to do so (lol).

ahh Mary my darling! you’re so welcome hehe ;) i’m so happy you enjoyed it! 🫠🥰

~ Calvin with babies is sure to make you swoon🥹 he would be so gentle with his baby girl. he’d soothe her when she gets all fussy. he’d give her millions of kisses, especially on her little button nose. he would blow soft & feather light raspberries onto her belly & feet just to hear those high pitched squeals & bubbly giggles she lets out :,) idk why but when you mentioned him bundling baby up in all these layers & putting on a hat to keep her warm, i also had this thought about Calvin being so into styling baby girl. like i see him buying her the cutest little clothes & accessories. he would absolutely spoil her rotten, i just know it!! i’m also convinced that she’s a mini Cal & his twin!🥰

~ aww having baby sleep in bed with you & Cal is such a wholesome little thought. just imagining the three of you, snuggled up & cozy on a cold winters night. having Six-Thirty’s sleeping spot be at the foot of the bed just makes sense. he’s also always on high alert & ready to defend his family if need be during nighttime especially ! he really is living up to the title of being the family’s bodyguard :))

~ no stop cause just the thought of Cal & baby Ellen snuggling on the couch is making me all🥹 also Six-Thirty laying his head on his lap is just the perfect addition! all i see is Calvin holding baby close, cradling her little head & gently rubbing her back. i could also picture Cal humming a song softly to her, as she lets out little sighs. he doesn’t want to ever let her go, but he knows he’ll eventually have to once baby El gets all fussy & is in need of mommy’s milk.

~ the stuffie🥹 oh i just know Calvin went to a few toy stores previously too in hopes to find the perfect one that would suit his little girl. that teddy bear with the pink silk ribbon just spoke to him as soon as he saw it & he just knew that it was the right one to give to baby El :,) when she’s a bit older, if Ellen happens to be missing her daddy cause he’s out at the store or even at work, she would hold the teddy close to her chest & imagine it’s Cal hugging her. excuse me while i go cry into my pillow at this thought. idk why i do this to myself, i’m sorry🥲

~ oh no!! not baby getting sick :( poor thing. i couldn’t even imagine the fear & worry that wifey & Cal would feel. but i just love the thought of Calvin working his magic in the kitchen & whipping up some home remedies that would help baby El get cleared right up. once baby’s cough is cleared up & she’s all better, you & Calvin feel a wash of relief & the two of you are able to get back to enjoying the festivities of the Christmas season with your healthy baby girl☺️

Mary !! i absolutely enjoyed reading this & i hope you liked some of the little things i added to it! i have a new Calvin thought that’s popped up in my head, so be prepared for me to be back in your inbox within the next few days hehe :) thank you again for this wonderful thought my darling!🥰

#calvin evans #lessons in chemistry #calvin thoughts/thots <3 #calvin evans x reader

11 notes · View notes

christiansorrell · 5 months

Text

Play-By-Blog #8: The Isle by Luke Gearing

Welcome to my ongoing play-by-blog of The Isle by Luke Gearing! We are playing this adventure with its original system, The Vanilla Game (adjusted somewhat to fit the format). You can check out the Play-By-Blog Repository to get all caught up if you wish.

How Play-By-Blog works:

I write up the situation, NPCs, and more, just like a DM.

You vote in the poll to help decide the character's course of action.

I roll the dice, resolve actions, and write them up next week.

So on and so forth for the rest of the adventure!

Notation:

[Text in brackets is out-of-character/GM text!] "Non-italicized quotes denote text from the original adventure!" "Italicized quotations denotes NPC dialogue."

Our character: Medon Girou - Magic Cutpurse

Our map: The Isle

[You can use the link's above to find Medon's Character Sheet and map of the Isle. On the map, you are currently at 1.]

Now, back to the adventure!

Like you thought earlier, you aren't above grave robbing and while most of these former monks probably don't have much to speak of in terms of buried treasure, it's worth giving one a look.

You search around for a well-shaped rock and spend the next hour or so digging in the area of the freshest of the graves. Your stomach is growling. The piece of cheese in your pocket is calling to you, but you know it's too small to make much of a difference either way. You'll need to get a fire going and roast up the dead monk's fish tonight. Thinking about your future dinner helps motivate you through the rest of the dig.

You brush the last bits of dirt away corpse (do you call it that if it's just a skeleton?) and try to make sense of the remains. The person was small, a woman you'd guess but you aren't well versed enough to know for sure. Bits of cracked, rotting leather and whispy clothes still hang to the body. You can see the hempen straps of a backpack or satchel as well. It looks like she was dumped in here with belongings and all.

To the side, there's a knife - not one you'd travel with or use for hunting, more like one you'd use to cut your meal at supper. Flecks of dried blood on the rusting blade.

You roll the bones over to one side of the hole and the backpack's top pouch falls open. Inside, you discover a surprising number of items: "A poor short sword, 20 arrows, 50' of silk rope, a grappling hook, 50 hacksilver in mixed coinage, a set of ruby earrings (worth ~500 hs), and a charm of yew wood." The charm is in immaculate condition, as if it was made and cleaned just days ago.

Odd, you think, to find someone buried with so much on them, especially in a monastery - even moreso if this was a woman. The monastery, you know, is all men without a nunnery to speak of, now or ever. The rope and grappling hook stick out in your mind as well, equipment you would have brought if you'd prepared better for your incursion to the isle.

Who was this woman?

In time, you pack your items into the worn, dirty backpack alongside those from the grave and toss the charm into your pocket, alongside the lead figurines. You use the rock to place the dirt back over the top of the grave, being sure not to disturb the nearby cairn. It doesn't look as it once did, but a passerby would need to approach closely before they'd notice the disturbed soil. It will have to do.

You turn back to the rest of the isle, the sea roaring gently at your back.

[The character sheet is updated now to reflect all of the newly acquired items. In order to spend gold (in this case, hacksilver) to gain XP, we'll need to return to the mainland or find a way to live openly and comfortably within the monastery. Cioran will not be back for 29 days.]

[We've got a few bits of loot, some additional equipment and even a few intriguing special items now. I'm excited to see where Medon goes from here. Thanks for reading! - Christian]

#meatcastle pbb #ttrpg #indie ttrpg #ttrpgs #rpg #luke gearing #the isle #play by blog #play by post #choose your own adventure #polls

7 notes · View notes

batmanego · 7 months

Note

https://www.tumblr.com/janemorris/729013196299567104 can we go full supermarket sweep on jailbird im sso hungry

Yes. We can. but im putting it under a cut because its going to be so long + im taking out the questions i already did

glance: At first glance, what stands out most about your OC's appearance? What's their distinguishing feature?

THE HAIR. jailbird's hair is a defining feature. i actually made a little list of jailbird's most prominent features recently.

i still think the hair is probably his most defining feature, though it's pretty similar to glory's. i still think their silhouettes are distinct, though -- glory's hair is more coily, jb's is a little looser.

face: Describe your OC's face. What's their smile like? Are their orbs cerulean? What would someone notice first when looking at them?

still got baby fat. when he grows up, it's a little more angular, especially in the chin area, but he's always kind of got soft cheeks. he's got kind of a perma-scowl going on most of the time. when he does smile it's usually kind of malicious in nature. he has braces.

stature: What's your OC's body type? How tall are they? Do they wear clothing to accentuate their look or do they try to mask it?

skinny. skiiiiiiinny. jailbird isn't really malnourished, though he could probably stand to eat a little better, but he is scrawny. very gangly. every time i draw him i think his proportions lead people to believe he's much taller than he actually is: at the start of the story, he's about 5'1, and by the end he's about 5'4. in the epilogue, his adult height is roughly 5'7. his civvy clothing is intentionally pretty baggy and layered to give the impression of more meat on his bones.

motion: How does your OC move? How does their clothing help or hinder their range of motion? Are they flexible, coordinated, clumsy?

jailbird is extremely flexible. think somewhere between a contortionist and a gymnast. he tends to move very quickly and always seems like he's in a hurry.

stillness: How does your OC act while still? Are they fidgety? Do they have any common gestures or tics? Does their clothing affect how they hold themselves while at rest?

jailbird is actually very good at sitting still. he has no problems with it. he can sit unmoving for as long as it takes, but only if he's doing it of his own volition. if you ask him to sit still, he gets huffy about it.

canvas: Does your OC have any scars, piercings, tattoos, or other markings? Do they display or cover them up at all?

jailbird has his ears pierced. i'm struggling to think of any tattoos he might want as an adult. he gets a WHOLE LOT OF SCARS during his time as a supervillain, the most notable of which is A MASSIVE SCAR ON HIS ABDOMENT from when he gets impaled on his own harpoon. Best birthday ever!

night: What does your OC wear to sleep? Do they have a favorite pair of PJs, or are they more the birthday suit type?

silk pajama set. monogrammed. Actually im laughing really hard at the image of him getting them monogrammed with "JV" because thats probably not what his "actual" initials are

day: What does your OC wear on a normal day? Why do they default to those clothes? Do they wear similar things, or do they change it up?

i've noted this in his character sheet:

generally, any t-shirt over any turtleneck, bonus points if red yellow black and white. this is really consistent in most if not all art of him.

you can even see it in haircut! red outline is apron, blue is shirt, green is turtleneck.

as a fun design note, the school colors were intentionally chosen to oppose he and eugene's natural red motifs. something about institutional repression of individualism... i can't remember my exact justification for it, but i know it was something like that.

formal: What's your OC's formal look? Do they like dressing up? Do they have different looks for different occasions?

jailbird's not a huge fan of fancy events. he gets dragged to them sometimes but otherwise wants to avoid the public eye. i'd say the most you'll get him in aside from his school uniform is a t-shirt, slacks, and a blazer.

informal: What's your OC's lazy-day look? How do they like to dress when they're winding down?

he's wearing it in haircut:

bunny socks are a feature that i outlined kind of as a joke while drafting haircut, but i liked the idea so much that they stuck around. anyway, it's his usual upper half with a pair of sweatpants or just loose cotton pants.

outerwear: What's your OC's outerwear situation? Jacket, sweater, cloak? What sort of weather do they deal with most and how do they protect themselves?

depends on the season. most of the time he'll forgo it. in the winter he gets what he's wearing in this picture:

(he's the one in the middle complaining.) he gets cold easily.

footwear: What does your OC wear on their feet?

combat boots or converse sneakers. when in costume he has those big knee high platforms. scary!

road: What does your OC wear while traveling? Do they have high-quality equipment, or are they making do? What does their gear look like?

jailbird doesn't really travel that much! if he did, he'd way overpack and use the most expensive equipment known to man. it would piss everyone off.

armor: What kind of armor does your OC wear? Is it well kept? Bonus: where does it come from? Is there a story behind it?

jailbird has padding under his suit. it's supposed to be at least somewhat bulletproof, though that's only on the chest and head. he learns after the "harpoon to the gut" incident why full body armor is likely a good idea. he also has elbow pads and the mask functions as a helmet.

arms: Does your OC have any weapons? What weapons do they carry, and how do they wear them when they're not fighting?

oh yes. Ohhh yes. one of my favorite jailbird gimmicks is his bottomless pouches -- he can store almost anything that will fit through the opening in them. however, he has only a rudimentary ability to control what he pulls out. the more he uses an item, the easier it is to find which is why his harpoon gun is easy and why it fits -- it's huge, but it's relatively narrow and can fit into the biggest pouch on his side, and it's his favorite weapon, so it's no problem.

roots: Is your OC's look inspired by any specific style of clothing or fashion trend? What are the roots and/or inspiration for their look?

not really? he's sort of loosely inspired by mall goth fashion, but that's more to do with color schemes than anything else. if i had to assign an actual aesthetic to specifically his way of dress, i guess it would be skater culture. which is funny, because he's not the skater of the team! eugene is! and eugene's aesthetics are based more on grunge and punk!

texture: Does your OC favor any specific kinds of cloth or textures? Is there anything they can't wear or don't like? What sort of fabrics do they prefer?

jailbird prefers his clothing to be baggier and looser. his costume is built for agility and speed, so he's willing to sacrifice comfort for function. his mental state is also in a pretty different place when it comes to civs vs costume.

wardrobe: How big is your character's wardrobe? Do they wear things threadbare, or can they afford new clothes often? Are they any good at mending and repairing their own clothing?

pretty big. i don't think jailbird buys new clothes very often, and he's really good at sewing and repairs. i think the only thing he probably has to get taken in or buy replacements of are his shoes. everything else he can usually fix on his own.

makeup: Does your OC wear makeup? How often? What kind? Why do they wear makeup, and do they like it?

yes, all the time. jailbird always has some level of black eyeliner and eyeshadow on. it's heavier in costume, blacking out the space around his eyes, but he wears it all the time. he just likes the way it looks.

favorite: Does your OC have a favorite article of clothing or accessory? What is it? What's the meaning behind it? Do they wear it all the time or do they wear it sparingly to keep it safe?

the magen david eugene gives him quickly becomes very important to him. aside from that, it's his fingerless gloves. never seen without them.

change: Has your OC ever drastically changed their appearance? Significant haircuts, big tattoos, complete wardrobe swap, etc? Why? How do they feel about the change?

nope. not really, at least. in the epilogue, he's old enough to grow facial hair, and he starts wearing short sleeves. and grows his hair out some. but he's still the same old jailbird. he feels neutrally about it.

alternate: What would your OC's alternate universe look be? If they're a fantasy character, what's their modern look? If they're sci-fi, what's their fantasy look? What AU would you want to see your OC in, and how would they dress themself? Bonus: Prompt an AU!

i've mentioned before the concept of the vey in tremont, which are a type of superhero predestined to die a violent, brutal death usually as a result of their own powers or hubris. when initially writing the basic concepts of new blood, especially for the characters, i considered making jailbird vey, and then decided against it for a number of reasons (mostly because i felt that in jailbird's case, it would lean too heavily into capital punishment), but it's sort of stuck with me ever since. i think it would be a lot of the same, except as soon as jailbird realized he was vey, he would construct and detonate a nuclear bomb.

if i had to put him in any other genre, i think he'd be funny in high fantasy. specifically in any kind of dnd setting. oh man. he'd be the world's most annoying warlock.

while i was typing this, you sent me this message:

and i need it to be known that he would absolutely be like that chris fleming bit about how the stranger things cast are going to convince jimmy fallon to deface an orphanage.

#long post #jailbird #tremontverse

6 notes · View notes

nightwardenminthara · 2 months

Note

stature, stillness, formal — grant!

thank you!!

stature: What's your OC's body type? How tall are they? Do they wear clothing to accentuate their look or do they try to mask it?

Grant's body changes throughout the course of Dragon Age 2, as time passes and his circumstances change. He was always kind of lanky and lean as a teen, food was never in abundance in the Hawke household and he burned through it fast. Into the prologue, he's started to fill out now in his mid-20s but life is rough in Lowtown, they're struggling just to get by. It's not until moving to Hightown that he's really able to finally, consistently, have enough to eat. And thus, he puts on some weight. And then post Leandra's death, he takes to drinking in excess and puts on a lot more weight.

And even after getting some of his drinking under control, I think the weight stays, maybe fluctuates a bit. It is so nice to have the means to be well-fed, to not have to work himself to exhaustion daily. He's not going to deprive himself.

Lol all that to say, he is tall, somewhere around 6'0-6'2. He puts on muscle easily, probably from a lifetime of doing hard labor either in Lothering or when picking up odd jobs with Malcolm. Lots of muscle memory there. But he's also not a bodybuilder lol, he has a very functional physique and as he puts on weight, he has a pronounced gut, soft thighs, etc.

He isn't insecure about it really, makes no effort to mask it with his clothing. Grant is a tall, large man and sometimes that works to his advantage, especially around Kirkwall. He's not particularly vain about his appearance in general.

rest under readmore bc this got wordy

stillness: How does your OC act while still? Are they fidgety? Do they have any common gestures or tics? Does their clothing affect how they hold themselves while at rest?

Hmm... Grant isn't particularly fidgety but he does have a few tics. A lot of fucking with his beard, rubbing his chin, scratching his cheek, etc.

Drumming of fingernails on a table at the Hanged Man, impatiently twisting a ring around his finger, crossing his arms across his chest.

Stretching out his neck and shoulders would probably be his companion idle animation, in an... I slept poorly and my back is stiff kinda way.

In private, it's not uncommon for him to let a flame dance across his palms while he's thinking. It's also not uncommon for him to summon little bursts of fire when he's in private and angrily fuming over something or other, which he is very aware is a bad habit lmao.

He mostly wears loose, comfortable clothing. Something made to keep out the cold without much resistance to movement. At home, in Hightown, he likes loose silk finery.

formal: What's your OC's formal look? Do they like dressing up? Do they have different looks for different occasions?

Is it a copout to say the MotA formalwear is pretty fitting lolll

I honestly think he does not think much about fashion, like he would probably just let someone else pick for him and probably did have a tailor or someone choose the cut and color of the fabric. He does care about freedom of movement. But as long as it's not overly stiff, he can manage.

Dressing up like that is a rare occasion (he wishes it was even rarer bc damn does he hate interacting with nobility)

Okay this is very long lol but thank you, I love talking about Hawke <3

#ch: grant hawke #ask game #answered

4 notes · View notes

furiousofpanda · 4 months

Text

Sonet of a Singularity

Context before reading

- Nobody here is supposed to have a name in this chapter

- This world is inspired from various time periods, but cars and complex electricity doesnt exist yet other than lightbulbs somehow.

- The style of clothing choices and surroundings and such are inspired by the Renaissance period, classical things, and a few other inspirations

"Sir, its been an hour." An older female voice said outside the room said through the thick white and gold patterned doors, voice being muffled but still audble to the figure inside. The maid stood outside waiting for a response and after a moment of silence and shuffling that could be heared, a young male voice called back.

CHAPTER 1 - Downfall

It was not often that there was any events being held, especially when the people questioned your families leadership. This time was different. Loud 'Ratatat' of a rhythmical knock to the chamber door was met with a loud grumble from within.

"Right, thank you! ... I'll be out in 30, do let them know if you can." The voice trailed off in volume as it spoke, and the asistant walked off.

Soon after within the chamber, a thin figure would pull himself half groggily from silk sheets. The only lighting in the room was dim lights that came out from the windows and from underneath the door. Slipping out, the figure went over and flicked on the lights, flinching and slightly recoiling at the sudden bright light. He would eventually adjust, now more awake. A mirror was by the door, in which he inspected himself briefly. The ruffled dark ginger hair that bordered on the color brown, tangled in a mass from the nap. A daily a pain really. The dark gray blue eyes that bordered on silver didn't do much to complament his look, nor did the faint freckles from the very minimal sun exposure his parents let him have. He paced over to the wardrobe.

Tonight was the night they were going to announce to the people that his unloving parents that he oh-so dispised wanted to marry him to someone he didn't know nor cared about, for their own wealth and gain. It made him feel sick in disgust just thinking about it. So tonight he had his own plans instead.

The Prince put on his more casual and what he had considered to be bland clothes; a white shirt with a small v cut at the neck that was tied up with string, whilst the cuffs of the sleeves held tight to the body but the rest hung down. And his pair of archery pants, tight to the body but plenty of movement available with it. He stopped and looked in the mirror and thought it may still be too flashy to blend in and grabbed a black cloak from the closet that his family gave to him for a funeral when he refused to change into black. He popped on his shoes which had been in the closet behind the mirror. Afterwards the Prince went to his window and peered at the drop below. It was not high enough to break any bones if he jumped, but he could definitely get hurt, so he cautiously prepared to jump before hearing a knock on his door, in which he pulled himself back and hesitantly responded.

"Yes? What is it?" The Prince could hear angry yelling down the hall from behind the doors from voices your unfamiliar with as he said that. Nonetheless, your family's maid seemed to be calm about it.

"Your mother wishes you to hurry up, the crowed is getting impaGH-" her voice was cut short with a loud thud that pushed against the bedroom door with angry voices and loud footsteps being heared from what he knew was the hall. The Prince took it as a sign to run.

He would land on his feet and throw on the cloak, rushing to get away from his lifelong prison and hopefully be able to dip and blend into the crowed as soon as he found a main town. He would follow the railing of the back door of the mansion that would usually be covered in guards but currently lacked any, and ran across the courtyard. The courtyard was covered in plants that had been maintained to cover everything in a particular way, some bushes cut into animals. He eventually slipped past the bush and climbed over the metal fence with some effort.

Making it onto the street, he walked away towards the city, only to be met with a bothering sight. The balcony in which the royal money-brained bastard parental figures would make announcements on to the people was flooded with townsfolk, and you could tell from the people passing you with random but dangerous items, heading the same direction: the castlhe'll. The prine saw a mother with a knife, leading two children under the age of 6 that each held unlit torches. The people where revolting, and he could only assume that everyone, even the servents that barely got paid themselves would have gotten into the crossfire. The prince could only pause and stare in disbelief? sorrow? Guilt? He didn't know for the swirling unsettling jumble of emotions made him turn and walk quickly into town. The faster he could get to the train station or get a horse, the faster he can escape from this hell.

He held his cloak tight as he moved down the streets of houses, some newly renovated while most old and being warn down, moss and missing tiles from the roofs of most houses. He almost passed by a shop familiar to him, but made himself stop and decided to enter. The prince adjusted his cloak's hood to make sure his face was hidden from any costumers that may also stop by, however the shop owner he knew. It was the family of his archery teacher, particularly ran by a girl around his age and her mom. Sometimes he and the girl would do training together, and they were good rivals. He was extremely grateful that his teacher had convinced his parents, who never let him go outside on a sunny day, let him learn archery to begin with.

Realizing that he had been reminiscing for too long, his focus readjusted to process that he had been staring at a collection of various chandeliers that hung from the ceiling in front of shelves of different assorted items that stood at the front of the store. He walks down the isle to the cashier to see it was his friend, and waved.

"Hello! Do you need any... wait a minute.." she leaned forward onto the counter and peered into the Princes eyes, in which upon sudden realization she went wide eyed gasped "I THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD!!?!!"

The Prince sighed and almost responded before the door opened with a telltale ring, in which the girl looked at him, looked at the direction of the door, and hopped off the counter, going around the register to the Princes side.

"Yes, we have plenty of antique masks, they should be down this isle if you could follow me?" She played off her shock and he could only assume that she wanted him to protect his identity. He followed, the steps of the other costumer making him admittedly nervous.

She brought him up to the isle and grabbed a white mask with two dots overlapping where the nose should be, top one teal while the bottom spot as a dark turquoise. She handed the mask to him, as it was surprisingly soft in his hands, white rope attached to each side of the face to tie behind the head. She than suddenly grabbed the Prince by the hood and yanked him down to her level, whispering to him in his face.

" Once you get out of town, never come back. Do not look for me or return here again. " She quietly hissed a him as he nodded, than stepped back and put back on her fake charade "Why don't you try it on! See if it fits before you buy it yeah?" She winked.

He nod and put it on, tying the mask tightly behind his head as it was comfortable enough, though the visibility was a bit bad.

" Good yeah?" His friend said "If you like to pay for it here you can! No need to walk to the area back there since I'm right here anyways." She waited a few seconds in silence with you, the footsteps were on the other side of the isle. "Excellent, this'll do! Thank you for shopping with us!" You took that as a cue to leave, walking towards the entrance, only peeking a passing glance at the person before the figure lunged at him.

He only felt pain for a few seconds, being shoved against a mirror, and a loud pop that came afterwards.

He felt only a little pain before the world cut black

And yet he refused to die

--End of chapter 1--

End note

This is my first tike writing stuff like this in a while, so any corrections you notice that may be needed, feel free to lmk.

This chapter was supposed to be short, and for those who know my ocs, this is the reminant that caused the creation of Wake.

For those who know nothing about my ocs, it's better if I don't spoil anything until I write it, but this tory will have so many arcs down the line its not even funny.

#SOAS #Sonet of a Singularity

4 notes · View notes