THE FLOWERS TEND TO DIE BUT THE MEMORIES LAST FOREVER.
⌈WHO ARE YOU⌋ chai. 23. he/they/it/she. writer. artist. weirdo. creeper. editor. manga reader. manhua reader. manhwa lover. webtoon enthusiast. self-proclaimed himbo bitch committee president. certified monsterfucker and monsterfuck enthusiast. will flirt with anyone and everyone (except for minors, do i even need to say that???) speaking of minors, sorry kids but kindly stay tf away from my blog, it ain’t for babies.
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A/N: This is a mostly complete, somewhat somber yandere story with some complicated emotions, flawed characters, and NSFW parts. I'll post the parts over a couple of days to not spam
Changeling (Clark) x Flower nymph f Reader
General Plot: You wake up in a strange place and meet a friendly changeling who is happy to help you adjust to your new home
You woke with a start, your eyes flying around the room you were in. This wasn’t your bedroom. Bolting upright, you took in the space you were in frantically. The walls were roughly hewn boards sealed with grout. You were lying on a lumpy feather mattress under a thread-worn quilt. A small woodstove in the corner warmed the room with a few dying coals.
“Where? What?” you murmured, confused.
Looking down, you realized you wore a long blue dress with a bow collar. It was simple but fit you well and was a pretty contrast to your skin.
This was not your home. These were not your clothes. The last thing you remembered you’d gone to bed in your pajamas. You pinched your wrist, wondering if this was a dream, but no matter how hard you pinched, you didn’t wake up.
Something smelled of jasmine, and you patted your hair, finding it wasn’t braided as you usually did before bed. It was also much longer than it had been, and vines of jasmine were worked through it. The length fell to just above your bottom in luxurious, thick piles. Trying to pluck one of the pieces of jasmine out, you winced as it stung, a drop of blood forming on the cut tip. The jasmine was growing out of your head!
You hurried to your feet, hoping to find a mirror. There was a small bathroom with a metal tub, washbowl, and chipped mirror. Blinking at yourself, you found that you were still you. You had the same features as you’d gone to bed with, the same skin, only now you had jasmine winding through your hair. Pretty silver hair cuffs decorated with little pearls and shells shined in the candlelight. Glancing at the tub, you found a few colorful bottles of oils, pots of cream, and a cake of soap that smelled like shea butter.
You jumped at a large banging from nearby and hurried out of the bathroom. Making your way through the small one-story cottage, you opened the heavy wood door. A man was standing in front of you. He was quite tall, with dark, blue-black hair that was braided down his back and smokey gray eyes. Two pointed ears peeked out from the loose strands of his hair.
“Good morning (Y/N)!” he said with a smile.
“Do I know you?” you asked, utterly confused.
You peeked past him at the forest surrounding the house. A field of beautiful flowers and juicy vegetables was enjoying the sunshine, butting up to a thick woodland. The man’s brow drew, and he looked at you more closely.
“Are you feeling okay?” he asked.
You shook your head.
“I don’t know you…or…this,” you stammered, waving your hand at the field of flowers. “Where am I?”
The man’s eyebrows jumped, and he looked around nervously before pushing past you into the house.
“Are you playing a joke, (Y/N)?” he asked.
You shook your head.
“I went to bed somewhere else and woke up here,” you explained. “I have no idea who you are.”
He frowned.
“Oh my,” he hummed. “Have you met anyone other than me?”
You shook your head.
“I only woke up a few moments ago,” you said.
“And all of this is new to you,” he finished your sentence, and you nodded.
He moved around the small house as if looking for someone, finally coming back to you.
“I think someone has bewitched you,” he finally concluded.
You shook your head, confused. Bewitched? What the hell did that mean?
“Bewitched? Magic isn’t real,” you scoffed. “Who are you anyway?”
His head jerked back.
“You…don’t know magic?” he asked.
You shook your head, and his nicely curved lips formed a thin line.
“You came from somewhere else than Merida?” he asked, and you nodded.
“I’m from (Y/C),” you said.
“(Y/C)?” he grunted, rubbing his chin again.
“Who…are you?” you asked again.
“Sorry, I’m Clark. You and I have been…friends for many years,” he said.
“How did I get here?” you asked. “Where is here?”
He sat down heavily at the small table in the kitchen area. You could see the gears turning in his head as he worked through some inner puzzle.
"You are in the province of Merida," he explained. "This little village is Alliet."
Your mind was spinning, and you felt dizzy.
Clark suddenly stood and helped you to a chair before pumping a cup of water out of a hand pump tap.
"Here," he said. "Have a drink before you pass out. This must be quite a shock."
Trembling, you lifted the cup to your lips and took a small sip. The water tasted fresh and sweet.
"Wh-who am I?" you gasped. "My hair is…different…"
He gave you a half smile.
"I suppose the answer to that question is not so much who but what," he said, rubbing his chin. "Does your world have flower nymphs?"
Your eyes widened.
"In fairy tales, not in real life," you said.
"Well, here, flower nymphs are an essential part of the economy," he said, pointing out the window to the lush garden. "You cultivate all of those flowers and sell essences and stems in the village."
"I don't know anything about flowers," you said.
"Yes…" he hummed. "Though your magic is still intact, I'm sure. You haven't lost your blooms."
He nodded to the vines of jasmine falling over your shoulders.
"How…how do I get back?" You asked, clutching the clay cup in your hand. "I can't stay here."
A flash of recognition flared in his eyes, but he looked away.
"I'm afraid you can't," he said. "A soul-swapping spell can only be done once. If people could come and go at will…it could be chaos. Whoever did the spell did it at great expense to themselves. Usually, they require a sacrifice."
You gasped.
"Who would have done something like that?" you asked.
He blinked at you and then shrugged.
"The other (Y/N) is the most likely culprit," he said. "Perhaps she had something she wished to escape."
"But what?" you asked. "You said you were friends. You must know-"
He held up his hand.
"I cannot guess why she would have done that. Perhaps she simply wanted to experience something new. But that's not the issue at hand…the key issue here is that you need to be introduced to this world," he said, sliding a chair next to you and sitting down. "I'm happy to help."
You chewed your bottom lip, completely at a loss. If Clark was willing to help you, you were sure you should let him. He said he was the old (Y/N)'s friend.
"Aren't you sad?" you asked. "You lost your friend. She ran away!"
He sighed and gave you a sad smile.
"The old (Y/N) was always troubled. I'm sorry it is at your expense, but I'm glad she found where she wanted to be," he said. "I hope your world is all she dreamed it would be."
You blinked at him, wondering if you should tell him that Texas was not exactly a paradise. She would probably end up in a hospital if she ran around trying to do magic.
Deciding not to, you got straight to business. "I guess if I'm trapped here, I should learn how things work," you sighed. "I don't expect you to help me for free. You don't know me. I'm sure I can find something to trade."
His hand raised, and his thumb brushed your cheek.
"I don't mind helping you," he said. "The village is rather boring, and I'd like to honor my friend."
"I'll find something for you," you assured him, but he only gave you a bemused smile.
"First things first, we ought to reintroduce you to the village," he said. "This is a small town. People will notice you are not the same. It's best to be direct. We’ll start at the doctor and make sure the soul transfer didn't harm you in any way."
He stood, but you winced a bit.
"Are you okay?" he asked. "In pain?"
"No," you sighed. "Just nervous."
He gave you a wide smile, revealing pointed teeth.
"Do not be worried," he said. "I'll help you along."
He held out a hand to you, and you took it. His fingers were long and strong with black nails.
"Um…can I ask you something?" you asked as the two of you walked down a dirt path leading away from the house you woke up in.
"You can ask me anything," he said.
"I don't mean to be rude, but what are you?" you asked.
He chuckled.
"Of course, you would wonder," he said. "I’m a changeling.”
You blinked at him.
“Oh…I’m sorry, I don’t know what that means,” you said.
He smirked.
“I’m a type of fae,” he said, and before your eyes, his body morphed into something that looked like an orc, then a wolfman, then back to himself. “I change shape.”
You gasped, blinking in disbelief.
“Was that real?” you asked, forgetting yourself entirely and pinching his cheek.
It felt like normal warm flesh. He gave you a playful smile, pinching your cheek back.
“Yes, that’s all me,” he said. “I’m also a mage.”
He held his palm up to the sky, and black fire burst from it. You jumped, squealing, and he quickly put it out.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to frighten you. This must all be very strange and new, hm?”
You nodded and gave him a wan smile.
“You’ll get used to it,” he said.
You looked down at your hands.
“Can I make black fire?” you asked, and he chuckled.
“No, no, you are a simple nature spirit,” he explained. “Not to diminish your value. You are extremely valuable; every town wants flower, tree, and water nymphs, but your magic is limited to growing plants and blooming flowers. Most villages take your protection to heart as nature spirits aren’t common and are very delicate.”
“Oh,” you said, not sure how to process that information. “I don’t feel particularly magical.”
“It will come to you,” he assured you, taking your hand.
The sound of people laughing and the creaking of carriages drifted through the trees, and soon you were walking through what looked like a quaint medieval village. Your heart pounded as Clark led you through the hustle and bustle, and you squeezed his fingers. He glanced down at your joined hands, his lips parting before he returned his gaze to the road.
“Morning (Y/N)!” a man with horns curving over his ears and hooves for feet shouted.
You gave him a wary wave, not wanting to be rude. Clark winked at you.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “Once we visit the doctor, word will spread quickly.”
As you walked through the village, magical beings you’d only seen in storybooks went about their day. Fairies with gossamer wings fluttered about, and you even saw a centaur unloading crates off a cart. Clark stopped in front of a little shop with a heart on the sign.
“Here we are,” he said, nudging you inside with a hand on your waist.
You noted that the office was very messy, with books and scrolls filling the tables and shelves.
“Doctor Meriel!” Clark called deeper into the building.
“Be right there!” a female voice shouted, and a few moments later, a tall, lithe woman with pointy ears and pink skin appeared.
Her white hair was pulled into a tight bun on top of her head. If you had to guess, based on your knowledge of fantasy books, you’d guess she was an elf.
“Oh, hello (Y/N),” she said, then glanced at Clark.
Her eyes drifted down to your hands entwined, and she frowned slightly.
“Clark... Is everything okay?”
“I think we should speak in an examination room,” he said, and she nodded, waving him back.
This room was spotless compared to the front office. Clark nodded for you to sit on the examination table, and he turned his attention to the doctor.
“(Y/N) has gone through a soul swap,” he explained. “This (Y/N) comes from…”
He looked at you.
“(Y/Country),” you filled in.
Dr. Meriel’s mouth fell open, and she hurried over to you, her lips forming a deep grimace.
“Oh dear,” she hummed, looking you over. “That can be jarring on the body. Who would have done such a thing?”
She pulled a wand out of her coat, and the tip glowed.
“Follow the light,” she said, holding it in front of your eyes.
You followed her directions as she examined your vision, ears, and throat.
“My guess is our (Y/N),” he said, and she turned to look at him, an eyebrow raising.
“You don’t suppose it was because of Harri?” she asked.
Clark shrugged.
“Who is Harri?” you asked.
Dr. Meriel gave you a worried look.
“Um…he used to be a member of our village. He left for the capital to join the King’s guard,” she explained. “Goddess bless us. I certainly hope he stays there.”
“Why?” you asked, and her mouth opened and closed.
She and Clark exchanged a glance.
“Harri…isn’t a nice fellow,” Clark explained. “But you don’t need to be worried about him. He’s gone.”
“Oh,” you said, wondering why they all seemed so concerned. “I’m sorry.”
They both looked at you, miffed.
“Why are you sorry?” Clark asked.
You wrinkled your dress under your fingers, your eyes getting a little misty.
“I feel like the other (Y/N) was well-loved,” you said. “I feel like I stole her from you.”
“No, no, no, no, no,” Dr. Meriel said, giving you a comforting squeeze. “Don’t think that, dear. Of course, I’m sad that she is gone, but it’s not your fault. In fact, I’m a little angry with her. She forced you into a soul swap against your will. It…doesn’t seem like something she would do…but perhaps she felt desperate. It was not fair to drop you into this world so abruptly. Many people don’t handle that shift well. People go mad, convinced their world isn’t real. It can…get messy. What she did was quite cruel.”
“Am I going to go crazy?” you asked, and she gave you a sympathetic smile.
“I think if you’ve gotten this far and not melted down, you should be okay,” she said. “Most people lose it the moment they are presented with an entirely new world. However, if you begin feeling…off…please return. There are therapies we can try to help.”
“Is she okay…physically?” Clark asked.
Dr. Meriel sighed.
“Yes, she appears to be perfectly fine,” she said. “I’ll inform the mayor that we will be welcoming a new (Y/N) into our town. It’s best you take things slow. Don’t try to do too much all at once. The last thing she needs is more stress. Perhaps save the introductions until the village has been informed of her…condition.”
Clark nodded and helped you off of the examination table.
“You can come back to my house, and we can have lunch,” he said.
“Thank you, doctor,” you said to the elf before Clark shuffled you outside.
“(Y/N)!” a cheerful orcess squealed the minute your feet touched the cobblestone of the main avenue.
She picked you up and spun you around in her arms.
“I was just at your house!” she said, glancing behind you at the clinic. “Is something wrong? Are you hurt?”
You looked up at the tall female, her thick dark hair falling over her shoulder and her head shaved close on one side.
“I-I’m sorry…I don’t-” you mumbled, not sure what to say.
You had no idea who this person was, but they obviously knew the old (Y/N) very well.
“Neia!” Clark said. “This…this isn’t (Y/N). Well, the (Y/N) you knew.”
Neia’s brow furrowed, and her face took on a thunderous look.
“What the hell does that mean?” she barked, her large fists on her hips. “(Y/N) and I have been friends since we were kids. You know that. I think I know what my best friend looks like.”
Clark put a hand on her arm.
“Dr. Meriel was going to announce it to the town all at once, but the old (Y/N) performed a soul swap,” he said. “I’m sorry Neia, the (Y/N) you knew is gone.”
Neia’s mouth fell open, and her eyes grew shiny.
“That’s not true! You’re joking,” she turned to you, and you trembled under her gaze. “You know me! Tell me you know me!”
“I’m sorry,” you mumbled, looking at your feet. “I’ve never met you before. I don’t really understand where I am.”
Neia’s face fell.
“But…I’m your best friend,” she said, her voice scratchy with tears. “You wouldn’t…she wouldn’t do that without telling me!”
“I’m sorry Neia,” Clark said gently. “That’s the way it is.”
Her eyes narrowed on him, frowning.
“(Y/N) would never do that,” she said, crossing her arms. “It couldn’t be. Someone else did this to her!”
“I’m sorry,” you muttered, tears slipping down your cheeks. “I’d go back if I knew how, I promise.”
She blinked at you, her face softening slightly.
“I-I’m sorry…I- this is probably terrifying for you…” she hummed, brushing a large hand over your head. “I just…I can’t believe-”
Again, her gold eyes focused on Clark, full of mistrust.
“I don’t believe (Y/N) would do that herself, Clark. I don’t buy it for a second,” she snapped. “Goddess, bless whoever the culprit is when I find them!”
“We all just have to get used to it,” he said, shortly. “I miss (Y/N) too, but think of her feelings. This is all new to her. Please treat her kindly.”
Neia huffed.
“Of course I’m going to treat her kindly,” she hissed, then looked down at you, lifting your drooping chin with a finger. “You ought to come home with me.”
She glared at Clark, then glanced at you, holding out a hand.
“You shouldn’t be left alone with him,” she said. “My family knew the old (Y/N) well and can care for you. This one can’t be trusted!”
You blinked at her, not sure what to say. You knew nothing about the social life of the old (Y/N). Would she have mistrusted Clark as well? You had no way of knowing except that the doctor hadn’t seemed concerned that you were together.
“I don’t want to be rude,” you muttered, “but I don’t know you.”
Her head snapped back as if you’d slapped her.
“How long have you known him?” she asked. “A few hours at most?”
“I-um…” you mumbled, unsure what to say.
“You’ll get plenty of time with her,” Clark hissed. “She’s only just arrived, and you’re confusing her! The doctor said to keep introductions minimal until she’s informed the town. You’re not questioning Dr. Meriel, are you? She left her in my charge.”
Neia frowned but pointed a finger at Clark.
“You’re lucky Dr. Meriel is a kind soul, or I would carry her back with me on my shoulder,” she snapped. “If I catch you mistreating her, I won’t hesitate to end you. Doctor’s orders or not.”
“Um…thank you for your concern,” you murmured, trying to diffuse the situation. “And…I’m sorry for your loss.”
Neia gave you a sad smile.
“Still a kind nymph, even from another universe,” she murmured.
She shouldered past Clark, sure to knock him over with her bulk. He looked after her, annoyed, as he brushed himself off, getting to his feet.
“Damn orcess,” he muttered under his breath.
“She doesn’t seem to like you much,” you pointed out.
He sighed and drew up a smile for you.
“Changelings aren’t well-liked,” he said. “It’s a stereotype that we’re all spies and thieves. Neia always hated me. We’ve all grown up together…but her parents told her I was bad when her dad found me in the woods the same day she lost her younger sister during birth and…well, the legend is changelings steal babies. It’s all nonsense.”
“I guess racism exists everywhere,” you sighed, feeling sad. “It must have been so hard to grow up as an orphan.”
He gave you a long, gentle look.
“Yes…it was difficult,” he agreed. “But that’s enough sad stories. I owe you lunch.”
He pulled you by your hand through back allies, avoiding any more villagers, until you reached a small castle, much grander than any of the other buildings. It was built with bright blue stone, and people wandered around the courtyard doing chores dressed in navy uniforms.
“This is where you live?” you asked, and he smiled as he pulled you through the front door.
“Built it myself,” he said. “Being a mage is a rather prolific occupation.”
“It’s beautiful,” you commented.
He led you into the foyer, which was decorated with lovely, carved wood furniture and large tapestries depicting mythical beasts. You stopped at one, brushing your fingers over the gold threads.
“This is all like it’s out of a dream,” you murmured.
You felt the heat of Clark’s chest behind you and his arms wrapped around you.
“I wish I could make it easier for you,” he said quietly, kissing the top of your head.
You sucked in a breath, and the scent of incense filled your lungs.
“You smell nice,” you murmured, and he gave you a squeeze before pulling you by your hand to what must have been the dining room.
“What sort of things do you eat at home?” he asked, and you thought for a moment.
“Most everything,” you said. “Meat and vegetables, rice, bread…the normal stuff, I guess.”
He nodded and grinned.
“Got it,” he said, disappearing into the kitchen.
A few moments later, the scent of roasted meat drifted to you, and a short man emerged with two plates full of what looked like a roasted bird and some toasted roots.
“That was so fast,” you commented. “But it looks delicious.”
“Magic,” he said as he took his seat nearby.
The man bowed to him silently and disappeared. You looked down at the food, unsure where to start.
“Is something wrong?” he asked, frowning.
You shook your head and blushed.
“Is…is it okay to eat food with magic in it?” you asked, and he blinked at you before bursting into laughter.
“There’s no magic in it,” he chuckled. “I just used magic to make it cook faster. It’s very safe. I’d never feed you something that would harm you, (Y/N).”
You nodded, feeling rude.
“Of course, you wouldn’t,” you said, taking a bite of the chicken.
It was delicious, seasoned with rosemary.
“Thank you so much for all your kindness,” you hummed, feeling happier the fuller your belly got.
He gazed at you with a smile on his face.
“I’ve waited so long to spoil you,” he murmured, and you blinked at him.
“You have?” you asked, and he straightened, appearing as if he hadn’t meant to say that.
“It’s nothing,” he muttered, then changed the subject. “I’ve been wanting to visit the capital to do some business. Perhaps you’d like to join me and see more of the countryside?”
You had nowhere else to be and were curious to learn more about this land, especially what a city looked like. This little town was very different than what you were used to. You also felt very anxious about meeting more of the town, based on how Neia had reacted to you. The people already knew and loved the old (Y/N); you were simply an imposter.
When lunch was finished, he showed you the many rooms of his mansion, seeming especially proud of his laboratory.
“This is amazing,” you gasped, looking at the glowing liquids in glass vials.
He had a real-life cauldron, bubbling away with something smelly inside. The notes he had posted to the wall were written in some strange language. You paused on a small painting sitting on the desk. It was of you.
“What’s this?” you asked, pointing to the picture, and he blushed.
“Oh…just a painting I had made long ago,” he hummed. “When I was an orphan, you were my only friend. Nymphs survive rather independently in the old wood. It’s a different place than the forests near our homes. We met when I was hiding from Neia and Harri, and I brought you into town. Convincing the younger you to stay was my path to acceptance in this village. Otherwise, I would have forever been an outsider.”
“Why did you have to convince me?” you asked, and he sighed.
“Um…it’s a little complicated. As I said, nymphs can survive easily in the old wood. The animals see you as a flower or a tree and are quite fond of you. That’s where most nymphs stay,” he explained. “They don’t like fussing around with our affairs. Convincing one to move into town and using their magic to support the economy is…challenging.
You do more for us than we could ever do for you, and you have much more to lose by our hands. The earth, the water, and the forest are filled with wild magic and difficult to tame. Those who venture into the old wood, rarely return. Though I can heat food and conjur fire, I can’t make a meadow bloom or trees bear fruit. No spell I can perform will bring a fruitful harvest or cleanse a poisoned well. Only you can do that sort of magic. Nymphs bring food, plentiful game, and clean, fresh water. Some would capture you and try to force you to do their bidding.”
“Oh,” you said, chewing your lip nervously.
“Why did I stay?” you asked, and he smiled wistfully.
“I’d like to think it was for me,” he said softly, “but I probably will never know the reason. Many things happened since you moved in. It would be hard to explain in a sitting, but that’s enough talk of a past you will never truly understand. We must think of the future now.”
He hustled you out of his laboratory and out of a rear door, heading down a small path.
“Where are we headed now?” you asked.
“To your home,” he said. “You ought to pack. I was thinking we could leave tomorrow.”
“What about the villagers?” you asked.
He shrugged, looking away.
“They don’t deserve you,” he muttered, looking bashful again as if he hadn’t meant to say that. “It will be fine,” he finally decided. “This is about you. Not them. They’ve had years with the old (Y/N). You must choose on your own if you would like to stay. Don’t feel pressured because they want you to be her. You are your own person with your own needs. You may like the capital or wish to return to the wood.”
He stopped at your front door.
“I need to go home and make some preparations,” he said. “Pack whatever you like; there is plenty of room for your belongings. We’ll be gone a month at least.”
You nodded and smiled at Clark.
“Thank you for your guidance,” you said. “I know Neia had bad things to say about you, but I appreciate your patience with me.”
He gave you a somewhat sad smile and then folded his body down to peck you on the cheek.
“Pack and then have a good rest,” he said before turning to head back towards his mansion. “I’ll come get you in the morning.”
You spent the evening sorting through the old (Y/N)’s belongings. They were simple enough, clothes, potions for your skin and hair, combs, and other utilitarian items. You hoped you’d find a journal or some other diary to learn more about her, but there was nothing like that.
By the time the sun set, you’d filled a bag with the clothes you’d found in a chest and whatever pots and bottles seemed useful.
You were just about to lay down for bed when you heard the front door open. Heavy footsteps moved through the front room, and scared, you hid in the small closet.
“(Y/N)?” you heard a heavy voice ask. It was not Clark’s, but deeper and more raspy.
Whoever it was moved through the house slowly before a dark figure blocked the light from your bedroom. A large hand jerked you out of the closet, pulling you into the light.
“Why are you hiding from your own fiance?” the stranger demanded in a sharp bark that made you tremble.
He was much larger than Clark, with gold skin. Shaggy blonde hair fell to his whiskered jaw. Blue eyes bore down on you. Though he was unnaturally large and wide, he looked rather human.
“Who…who are you?” you gasped.
He smelled awful, like sweat and burnt tires.
Your question seemed to infuriate him.
“What game are you playing (Y/N)?” he shouted, tossing you to the floor. “Hurry up and start some dinner, you stupid wench. I’m starving!”
“Don’t throw me around, asshole!” you huffed at the man, pulling yourself to your feet. “I don’t know who the hell you are, but no one calls me out my name! Get the fuck out of my house!”
The man loomed over you, looking furious. His gold skin turned red with rage. He jerked you up in his grasp, tossing you easily into the kitchen. Your shoulder hit the stove, making you shout as pain shot up your arm.
“Don’t talk back to me, woman!” he snarled, stomping towards you. “I see you haven’t been properly disciplined since I left!”
A heavy hand came down on your cheek, making you see stars.
“Keep arguing, and you’ll get worse!” he snarled, marching out of the room.
You had no idea who this man was and didn’t appreciate getting tossed around and beaten. The moment he turned his back, you fled, wiggling out of the kitchen window. It was hard to find in the dark, but you managed to locate the path that Clark had walked you down from his house, sprinting down it.
When you reached the blue stone building, you banged on the front door, frantically looking over your shoulder to ensure you hadn’t been followed.
“Miss?” the short man from before asked, dressed in his pajamas when he opened the door.
“Please, I need help!” you gasped, your cheek and shoulder still aching. “Some man showed up at my house and started tossing me around!”
His eyes narrowed, and he glanced over your shoulder, hustling you inside. When you were past the threshold, he was certain to drop the large piece of wood that barred the door.
“Come with me, Miss,” he said. “I’ll wake the master.”
He set you on a plush couch in the living room and brought you a glass of something that smelled alcoholic.
“Some brandy to help with the pain,” he said, his eyes dropping on your swollen cheek, then scurried away into the dark house.
A few minutes later, Clark came rushing in, picking you up and examining you from head to foot.
“Harri came home, didn’t he?” he snarled, looking just as furious as the strange man. “Bastard must have failed his entrance exam.”
“I don’t know who he was!” you gasped, tears leaking down your cheeks. “He said he was my fiance then slapped me. I climbed out of the kitchen window.”
“Shhh, shh,” he said, scooping you up in his arms and carrying you toward his laboratory. “I’ve got something to help. I won't let him get to you.”
He set you down on a chair while he gingerly examined your cheek with his fingers.
“Who was he?” you asked as he looked through his potions for the right one.
Clark took a few minutes before he answered.
“Harri is the mayor’s son,” he said through gritted teeth. “He got it in his head you were meant for him and moved in. The old (Y/N) was incredibly kind. Instead of abandoning the town and escaping to the forest, she accepted him into her home, thinking if she gave him what he wanted, he’d be…kinder…I suppose. They had some sort of…silly moment when they were children that made her heart soft to him. She thought he was a misunderstood malcontent, not the abusive man he is.”
“Then why wasn’t he here when I woke up?” you asked.
His cool fingers spread a spicy-smelling gel on your cheek.
“He decided he was good enough for the King’s guard, and he went to take the examination,” he said. “My guess is he failed and came home in a bad mood.”
“No one stopped him from abusing the old (Y/N)?” you asked, and he looked solemn.
“He’s not the way he is with you with the rest of the town,” he grumbled. “They see a charismatic, charming man. He hides his temper well, and (Y/N) covered for him. He and Neia are very close. (Y/N) refused to let me…do anything about it. Only Doctor Meriel and I knew because she often treated the old (Y/N)’s bruises. She thought she loved him. She thought she could fix him. The whole town supported the match. They were going to be married when he was accepted into the guard.”
“Is that why she soul-swapped me?” you asked, and he gave you a long look as if he were thinking deeply about something. “To get away from him without upsetting the town?”
“Yes, that is likely,” he said but didn’t elaborate.
“Well, I don’t want to be married to him,” you said, tears filling your eyes again.
“Where else does it hurt?” he asked, looking down.
You rolled up your sleeve, and he also applied the soothing gel to your shoulder.
“I won’t let him have you,” he muttered, gazing into your eyes with his stormy irises.
You heard a banging and winced.
“Stay here,” he said sharply, and before your eyes dissolved into a puff of smoke.
You couldn’t just sit there waiting for something to happen, so you hurried back down to the first floor, peering out of one of the windows. Clark was standing in front of him, preventing him from entering
“Hand over my wife, changeling!” Harri barked at Clark.”I know you have her!”
You would have been frightened to stare down such a massive man, but he seemed unmoved.
“She’s not your wife,” he snapped back. “(Y/N) knows nothing of you. She doesn’t love you, and I’m sure she hates you after tonight.”
“Of course she loves me,” Harri hissed. “She’s always loved me! You’re just bitter she didn’t pick you! Bring her out before I break the door down!”
“She came here to hide from you,” he said. “She doesn’t want to go back. You ought to drop this before you get hurt.”
“Like you could hurt me!” Harri boomed, pulling a heavy sword from the sheath strapped to his back. “I’ve already called the town guard. It’s only a matter of time before we chase you out!”
Clark chuckled.
“You know she soul-swapped herself to get away from you,” he said, smug. “The (Y/N) you’ve abused tonight has no memory of the accident that tied you together. The old one left you for another world so she’d never have to see you again.”
At that, Harri looked hurt before his face returned to a stony grimace.
“You have a lot of nerve calling it an “accident.” Just another one of your lies! All you’ve ever done is lie! I’ve told my father we ought to chase you out, and now I have a reason. This town should have never accepted a filthy changeling to start with!”
Suddenly Clark morphed into a version of Harri, right down to his big sword.
"You have a lot of nerve calling it an 'accident'," He jeered, parroting the real Harri's words. "You're just sour your own pitiful attempt to chase me out blew up in your face! The accident was letting you live! You've lost, just accept it."
Harri charged him, sword raised, and before your eyes, Clark transformed into some creature you’ve never seen before. It looked like a ghost floating above the ground but was solid. Long gnarled fingers were tipped with massive claws, and his mouth was impossibly wide, filled with razor-sharp teeth. His red eyes glowed, seeming eager for the fight.
He easily knocked the sword Harri was clutching out of his hand, long claws slicing his skin like butter.
You gasped as blood sprayed into the dirt, and the hulk fell to the ground, still hanging on to enough of his pride to glare at his enemy.
“The town guard is coming!” he gasped, pressing his hand to his chest to slow the bleeding.
Clark disappeared into a cloud of smoke again and appeared beside you.
“I told you to stay put,” he growled, back to his more humanoid form.
“How could I?” you asked, and his face shifted from annoyance to soft concern.
“Ready the carriage!” he boomed, his voice echoing through the mansion. “Quickly!”
Servants appeared from seemingly nowhere, hurriedly packing bags and rallying the horses.
“We need to leave now,” he informed you, pulling you by your elbow out the door.
As you passed, you stared at Harri, who was panting in the dirt.
“(Y/N) please! Whatever he’s told you is a lie!” he shouted at you, his voice losing its volume at the end. “You belong to me! You love me! That changeling has bewitched you!”
His golden skin was going gray, and his chest heaved. You turned away from him, finding it hard to have sympathy for a man who’d thrown you into a stove the moment he returned home. Clark cradled your head as if to shield you in his arm as he led you to the carriage his staff was preparing.
“Is he going to die?” you whispered when he’d settled you on the lacquered black carriage bench.
He plopped down next to you, slapping the side, and you heard the driver click at the horses to drive them forward.
“Not likely, unfortunately,” he snarled. “The bastard is half ogre. They heal quickly. He’ll tell his father I tried to murder him, however. Which is why we need to leave.”
“How could the other (Y/N) decide to marry that guy?” you murmured, utterly confused. “He’s horrible.”
“I don’t understand it either,” Clark said quietly, stroking your head with his arm wrapped around you. “As I said, the old (Y/N) was troubled.”
He brightened a bit, smiling at you.
“But you have a whole new life ahead of you, darling,” he said. “There’s no reason for you to live in her past. I should have never let you stay in this village in the first place. You don’t belong here.”
You gave him a wan nod, leaning into his warm chest. There was so much happening around you that you didn’t understand, but Clark felt like an anchor in the storm.
“Will they come after us?” you asked, and he shrugged.
“I bespelled the carriage,” he said. “They cannot see us. You are safe.”
“But what about all your things?” you asked. “Your laboratory?”
He smiled at you.
“All of those things can be replaced,” he said. “Your life is far more important. There’s nothing to worry about.”
“Where are we going?” you ventured, and he looked thoughtful.
“To the coast, then we’ll take a ship out of Merida,” he explained. “Across the sea, there’s a province named Ilirion where you will be safe. Enough questions; you need to rest.”
The last four words were said in an odd lilt, and you felt your eyes getting heavy. You notched your head in the crook of his neck, and his arm wrapped around you. You fell asleep, the spicy smell of incense filling your breath.
Hi okay so if you're still doing a request can I get a (baki) Pickle x bottom male reader. So I want public sex where Pickle FuCks Reader Hard infront of everyone kinda like the reporter scene but you know with consent but if your not comfortable with that just normal rough sex in a bed room or forest since that's where Pickle is from.
If your not comfortable with this then that's okay i understand.
notes: OKAY, so, I did not see this until I wrote the last pickle request so I'm gonna connect this ask with that one— it's right here if ya wanna read it, deffo recommend it bc of lore :D hope ya enjoy this too !!! can't even lie, I'm thoroughly invested in the story of Pickle and Cucumber and I'm honestly thinking about keeping these two as reoccurring on my blog ngl.
warnings: mdni, homophobes do not interact, amab reader, he/him pronouns, violence against others that aren't reader, murder, blood and blood depictions, brief description of violence against woman and their wombs, mxm, pickle is very protective and basically yandere but who wouldn't be during the jurassic time period, rim jobs, lack of prep before anal, noncon mentioned but not against reader, reader is called cucumber by the facility and is basically a nickname, cumflation, belly bulge, size difference, very massive, very long, giant cock that is more weapon than genital, rough and unprotected sex bc duh they're both primitive men, hunting of animals, drugging // food tampering— I think that's it, lemme know if I missed anything.
The ultimate goal of the experiment was to further test the pure, raw strength of the primitive man when fueled by emotion and longing, going without food for a week. And their experiment proved to be true, far too true as a matter of fact. Multiple casualties would be forever staining the pages that reported the experiment and any sane person would have ended the experiment then and there to reunite the two lovers again.
However, a man at the top, who thought of nothing but himself, wanted to see just how far Pickle would go, even if that meant more casualties would have to be made. And so, the bloodbath ensued.
As Pickle roamed the facility halls, wave after wave came at him, rubber bullets aimed his way and raining on him that proved to have no impact on him whatsoever. He easily swiped aside the nuisances that are in his way, swiping away the small people until they go flying, hitting nearby walls— the sound of cracking bones, splattering, and coughing is sickening. So sickening that some of the scientists, though they love their jobs, find themselves going against the higher-ups.
One bravely moves in front of Pickle and holds his hands up, attempting to seem as if he was defenseless and then began to point behind him, pointing at a large door that was down the hall the primitive man was currently stalking down.
"He's there! There!"
He quickly announced, and then used his other hand to wave in the direction of the security camera he knew was currently watching the entire sight.
And on cue, the giant doors opened. To your surprise, the wall opening woke you out of your forced slumber that was brought onto you by a primitive form of depression sparked by your loss of companionship.
With heightened abilities, Pickle smelled you before he saw you, and as soon as he laid eyes on you, he was unable to make a sound, simply getting into all fours again and bounding towards you at full-speed. Despite being weakened by the lack of nutrients, you slowly sat up onto your hands and knees before feeling yourself being tackled back to the ground, bodies rolling until the two of your slammed against a tree, Pickle's back took the blow and nearly uprooted the thing. He rolled again onto a patch of grass, still holding you comfortably in his arms until you were in a patch of grass, dropping you onto your back while he buried his face into your neck, starting to nibble onto any part of it that he can reach, sharp fang-like teeth scratching over your skin and leaving indents.
The door to this new enclosure is shut and on the outside, the cleaning procedure begins, but not without some scolding to the researchers who went against the higher-ups. Cucumber and Pickle did not seem to care about whatever was going on outside of them, far more focused on each other and keeping each other close.
From then on, Pickle cannot be more than a foot away from you, and he can only sleep when he's on top of you, shielding you from whatever threatens the outside.
The only scientists he allows inside the enclosure are small, fragile-looking women. He'd already killed a few of the male scientists who dared to enter, a warning and a threat. And recently, in hopes to appease the two primitive men and get back on their neutral sides, wild animals have been introduced into the enclosure, giving the illusion of a hunt for the both of you, and unfortunately, your enjoyment in fruit had been ruined thanks to the scientists and their cruel, cruel experiment.
You were only able to eat what Pickle hunted, and in another week, you looked more alive again, even helping with the hunt and relishing in Pickle's presence yet again. So far, it seemed that Pickle seemed to enjoy crocodile meat quite a lot, whilst you had your own preferences. And once you were back at a healthy level of energy, Pickle immediately recognized it and let his instincts win, one could not blame him for feeding into such carnal desires.
After an especially filling meal, you find yourself being hunted just like your previous meal, but it's the kind of hunt that gets the hair on the back of your neck standing. Your primitive partner growls at you in a suggestive manner and suddenly, he's chasing you around the enclosure, getting the adrenaline pumping in your veins and his. And when he's had enough, he's got you pinned down onto the ground, pulling at the loin cloth that keeps you from him until it comes off, making him toss it aside. He's hurried and hungry, yanking his own loin cloth off as you roll onto your stomach, eager for him to mount you, hardened cock swinging between your legs while a bead of pre dribbles out the top. You're on your knees, propping your body up in the ideal position for— breeding essentially.
Pickle is eager himself, lining his massively thick, veiny dick up with your rim, nearly growling at the anticipation as he presses the head against it and starts to push. Every part of the tanned man is large, including his third leg that was nearly a foot long and thick like a world record-breaking, sizable anaconda. He tried to force himself into you, but you push him out, obviously because it's been a while and it seems to frustrate the beast, eliciting a growl from him as he eyes your little hole with his brows furrowed. Everytime you breathe, it winks at him, almost like it's taunting him and you can't help but to grow frustrated, huffing at him from over your shoulder, but he can't stop staring at your hole, curious eyes drilling themselves into your ass.
Then, yet another instinct comes over him as he leans down, shoving his tongue past the first ring of muscle, the fat thing nearly longer than his cock. The sensation is strange but it only makes more pearls of pre dribble from your tip, your own cock seemingly throbbing as his wild tongue throbs around inside of you from behind, forcibly stretching you with its width. The muscle thrashes around inside of you, wildly moving about, darting in and out of you like an excitable puppy drinking water from a lake. His tongue movements are uncoordinated and hungry, so much to the point that it's darting about with no clear destination, even causing a few stray licks to the underside of your balls that makes you flinch every time.
Pickle isn't particularly sure what he's doing or why he's doing it, but he couldn't stop himself from feeding into the curiosity. It surprised you as well, considering he's never done to you before and you had never felt so good down there like this.
Shamelessly, a group of researchers and scientists were watching this ensemble unfold in real-time, gathered around with food in their hands like shameless perverts watching an adult film.
For science! They would most likely say, ignoring their own instincts to shove a hand in their pants at the scene in front of them.
The licking, although pleasant, was becoming too much and there was a buildup you were feeling in your shaft that had you panting like a dog, clawing at the ground and smashing your skull against the dirt. For some unknown reason, Pickle took your sounds as a signal of sorts and he remembered his own issue, heavy uncircumcised cock seeming to throb and lift with eagerness. Yet again, he pulls himself back to position himself properly, lining himself up with your hole and then pushes the tip in, a chirp of excitement escaping him as he plunges in deeper, going in about halfway before you feel as though the insides of your stomach are literally being rearranged. Fertile balls are pressed up against yours as he manages to jam every inch into your awaiting hole, somehow you're able to take every inch, an impressive feat within itself. Perhaps, this is why he took you as a lover. A flash of memories comes to mind to both you and Pickle.
. . .
Pickle had his share of sexual partners— instinctually he went after women, who he ultimately killed by accident after ripping through their wombs with the deadly length between his thighs. He had found a woman once, able to take him fully, but she did not recuperate his feelings and escaped him after a session of breeding. Eventually, Pickle stumbled upon Cucumber, a man of smaller stature than him, but strong in his own way. Their first meeting was anything but friendly, both of them going after the same prey of a Jurassic animal, looking for their next meal, fighting each other while simultaneously fighting the creature in hopes of getting meat. Ultimately, they ended up killing the beast together and bregrundingly shared, taking from the hunted beast without acknowledging each other much after.
But through unfortunate events, you continued to run into each other at different points in both of your traveling journeys, but continued to ignore each other regardless. And on one of those fateful meet-ups, however, Pickle had made a mistake— a mistake that brought on a sense of fear that he'd never once had to deal with before.
Consuming a wasp.
The pain he'd felt from it made him more vocal than ever, scaring away beasts and other people alike. However, Cucumber was not fearful, instead, he went a pang of sympathy for the man who he'd considered somewhat of a companion.
Immediately jumping into action, tapping into a nurturing side that he sometimes would ignore, he wandered hurriedly to the nearest lake of water, cupped his hands and gathered a healthy amount of it into his hands and wandered towards the other man. He growled at that primitive man who was still in excruciating pain, opening his mouth in an attempt to get the message across to him and with tears in his eyes, Pickle obliged, reminding Cucumber of a whimpering babe who was hungry for milk.
Dumping the handfuls of water into Pickle's mouth, you watched as he held the water in his mouth for a moment and then spit it out, along with the wasp, coughing up quite a storm. You frowned as he coughed, hesitantly patting his back afterwards, and after a while, you left to gather something to soothe the residual burning— fruits, which you forced Pickle to eat, despite his disdain for eating things that he did not hunt himself. But when he did as you wanted, the burn disappeared and you were ready to take your leave after helping him— only to have the man hot on your tail, everywhere you went, following you closely from behind.
Surprisingly, you didn't shoo him away, and that was what began the true extent of your strange relationship. It didn't take much longer before he would develop something new, love, and you returned the feeling. And in a moment of intimacy one late night, under the stars, he'd mounted you for the first time like a woman and breeded you under the moonlight. It was somewhat romantic, even with the guttural sounds of pleasure and delight that came from you both. And when you took him in his entirety without complaint, he was even more infatuated with you than he'd already been.
. . .
The primal man is grinning at this point as he's able to properly mount you, beginning to thrust at a pace that has your body rocking back and forth, his mouth and the area around it shiny with his own saliva as he plunges further. You're lucky you're stronger than the average and modern man, claws digging further into the dirt to keep yourself from toppling forward. Pickle is pounding into you, thrusting his hips with a tenacity that's enough to shake the trees around you, you're lucky your body is built for the brutality.
Watchful eyes are carefully observing, even going as far as to have a discussion onto why the two of you had chosen each other as mates since there was no chance of either of you reproducing. Then again, did reproducing matter much to the primitive people of your time? Apparently not, though Pickle seemed to be /breeding/ you as if it were indeed, possible.
Poor Cucumber was experiencing the true strength of Pickle's excitement, quite literally being fucked into the ground by a beast of mass destruction. The researchers collectively feel a sense of great respect for you as you handle the creature on top of you with gritted teeth, groaning and growling as you take every inch. It's a rough experience that leaves you teary eyed, wobbly lipped, and whining, just like all the other times he has his way with you. Pickle doesn't seem to let up, not even when your teeth chatter as a familiar and growing pleasure comes over you, blossoming in your hips and cock, strings of white spewing from your tip and onto the ground beneath you in spurts that seem to last far too long. Your cock seems to soften after cumming a second time, though it continues to twitch and swing with the pistoning of barbaric hips that continuously drive you forward. Squelching and the sound of skin repeatedly colliding is nearly as loud as the proud growls Pickle does, his chest vibrating with an animalistic equivalent of pride when you cum, squeezing his erection enough to milk him just right.
And fortunately, your poor hole doesn't need to take much more abuse before Pickle reaches his edge as well, unleashing copious amounts of his load into you, cum spilling out the edges where your bodies connected, dribbling out in the dirt like lines of salt. You'd felt full like this before, never able to get used to the feeling but still enjoying it regardless, a strange after result is the slight pouch in your lower belly that is made due to an immense amount of cum. Pickle holds himself there for a bit before pulling out and he's /still/ coming, ropes of the sticky white landing on your back and your rear, the insane amount he's dumped into you beginning to spill out and trickle from your gaping, spasming hole. Your lover lets out an affirmative, satisfied groan and then lays down onto the ground on his side right next to you. He wraps one of his lengthy arms around you and pulls you towards him, your chest neerly flush against his, and you rest your forehead against his shoulder, panting as you attempt to catch your breath, almost as if you'd been running after an especially fast prey. Pickle shuts his eyes and rests his chin on top of your head as he slowly shuts his eyes, having been drained of energy. It's not long before he's asleep and his body naturally locks in place around you, almost like a protective barrier. One of his legs is draped over yours, hooked behind your knees, his monstrous cock nestled between your thighs while yours is squeezed between your stomach and his abdomen, lower bodies entangled where it's almost difficult to distinguish between limbs. His arm is still wrapped around your back, the other had joined, slipping beneath you as his hands interlocked behind your back. This position is new, he's usually laying right on top of you when he sleeps, completely covering you up like a shell on the back of a turtle, making it nearly impossible to see you beneath him unless one looked from very specific angles.
You're tired as well, hole still leaking with Pickle's cum as your eyelids grow heavy. Your body is hot and sticky with sweat, making your skin stick to his, but you always find comfort in his presence, snaking your own arms around the massive man's body the best way you can before you drift off to sleep as well.
To the researchers and facility crew who are still watching on the security cams, they see the cuddling session as wholesome— despite the previous actions of you both— and nearly coo at the cuddling session.
Perhaps they would need to adjust their research and find different questions to think about...
ty for informin' me, I needa make an adjustment— but I do have to ask... how did ya discover this bit of information 🧍 ya must be a pickle fanatic or somethin', I admire that. did ya like rewatch that episode where he fucks the reporter and like pause it on the full frame of him and his schlong, pull out a tape measure and make some guesses or what... Or are you like that one tiktok guy who guesses people's height based on their surroundings? I don't know why I'm askin' ya this, I'm way too curious for my own good— my b a d. ignore this if ya wish to
Hi okay so if you're still doing a request can I get a (baki) Pickle x bottom male reader. So I want public sex where Pickle FuCks Reader Hard infront of everyone kinda like the reporter scene but you know with consent but if your not comfortable with that just normal rough sex in a bed room or forest since that's where Pickle is from.
If your not comfortable with this then that's okay i understand.
notes: OKAY, so, I did not see this until I wrote the last pickle request so I'm gonna connect this ask with that one— it's right here if ya wanna read it, deffo recommend it bc of lore :D hope ya enjoy this too !!! can't even lie, I'm thoroughly invested in the story of Pickle and Cucumber and I'm honestly thinking about keeping these two as reoccurring on my blog ngl.
warnings: mdni, homophobes do not interact, amab reader, he/him pronouns, violence against others that aren't reader, murder, blood and blood depictions, brief description of violence against woman and their wombs, mxm, pickle is very protective and basically yandere but who wouldn't be during the jurassic time period, rim jobs, lack of prep before anal, noncon mentioned but not against reader, reader is called cucumber by the facility and is basically a nickname, cumflation, belly bulge, size difference, very massive, very long, giant cock that is more weapon than genital, rough and unprotected sex bc duh they're both primitive men, hunting of animals, drugging // food tampering— I think that's it, lemme know if I missed anything.
The ultimate goal of the experiment was to further test the pure, raw strength of the primitive man when fueled by emotion and longing, going without food for a week. And their experiment proved to be true, far too true as a matter of fact. Multiple casualties would be forever staining the pages that reported the experiment and any sane person would have ended the experiment then and there to reunite the two lovers again.
However, a man at the top, who thought of nothing but himself, wanted to see just how far Pickle would go, even if that meant more casualties would have to be made. And so, the bloodbath ensued.
As Pickle roamed the facility halls, wave after wave came at him, rubber bullets aimed his way and raining on him that proved to have no impact on him whatsoever. He easily swiped aside the nuisances that are in his way, swiping away the small people until they go flying, hitting nearby walls— the sound of cracking bones, splattering, and coughing is sickening. So sickening that some of the scientists, though they love their jobs, find themselves going against the higher-ups.
One bravely moves in front of Pickle and holds his hands up, attempting to seem as if he was defenseless and then began to point behind him, pointing at a large door that was down the hall the primitive man was currently stalking down.
"He's there! There!"
He quickly announced, and then used his other hand to wave in the direction of the security camera he knew was currently watching the entire sight.
And on cue, the giant doors opened. To your surprise, the wall opening woke you out of your forced slumber that was brought onto you by a primitive form of depression sparked by your loss of companionship.
With heightened abilities, Pickle smelled you before he saw you, and as soon as he laid eyes on you, he was unable to make a sound, simply getting into all fours again and bounding towards you at full-speed. Despite being weakened by the lack of nutrients, you slowly sat up onto your hands and knees before feeling yourself being tackled back to the ground, bodies rolling until the two of your slammed against a tree, Pickle's back took the blow and nearly uprooted the thing. He rolled again onto a patch of grass, still holding you comfortably in his arms until you were in a patch of grass, dropping you onto your back while he buried his face into your neck, starting to nibble onto any part of it that he can reach, sharp fang-like teeth scratching over your skin and leaving indents.
The door to this new enclosure is shut and on the outside, the cleaning procedure begins, but not without some scolding to the researchers who went against the higher-ups. Cucumber and Pickle did not seem to care about whatever was going on outside of them, far more focused on each other and keeping each other close.
From then on, Pickle cannot be more than a foot away from you, and he can only sleep when he's on top of you, shielding you from whatever threatens the outside.
The only scientists he allows inside the enclosure are small, fragile-looking women. He'd already killed a few of the male scientists who dared to enter, a warning and a threat. And recently, in hopes to appease the two primitive men and get back on their neutral sides, wild animals have been introduced into the enclosure, giving the illusion of a hunt for the both of you, and unfortunately, your enjoyment in fruit had been ruined thanks to the scientists and their cruel, cruel experiment.
You were only able to eat what Pickle hunted, and in another week, you looked more alive again, even helping with the hunt and relishing in Pickle's presence yet again. So far, it seemed that Pickle seemed to enjoy crocodile meat quite a lot, whilst you had your own preferences. And once you were back at a healthy level of energy, Pickle immediately recognized it and let his instincts win, one could not blame him for feeding into such carnal desires.
After an especially filling meal, you find yourself being hunted just like your previous meal, but it's the kind of hunt that gets the hair on the back of your neck standing. Your primitive partner growls at you in a suggestive manner and suddenly, he's chasing you around the enclosure, getting the adrenaline pumping in your veins and his. And when he's had enough, he's got you pinned down onto the ground, pulling at the loin cloth that keeps you from him until it comes off, making him toss it aside. He's hurried and hungry, yanking his own loin cloth off as you roll onto your stomach, eager for him to mount you, hardened cock swinging between your legs while a bead of pre dribbles out the top. You're on your knees, propping your body up in the ideal position for— breeding essentially.
Pickle is eager himself, lining his massively thick, veiny dick up with your rim, nearly growling at the anticipation as he presses the head against it and starts to push. Every part of the tanned man is large, including his third leg that was just a few inches over a foot in length and thick like a world record-breaking, sizable anaconda. He tried to force himself into you, but you push him out, obviously because it's been a while and it seems to frustrate the beast, eliciting a growl from him as he eyes your little hole with his brows furrowed. Everytime you breathe, it winks at him, almost like it's taunting him and you can't help but to grow frustrated, huffing at him from over your shoulder, but he can't stop staring at your hole, curious eyes drilling themselves into your ass.
Then, yet another instinct comes over him as he leans down, shoving his tongue past the first ring of muscle, the fat thing nearly longer than his cock. The sensation is strange but it only makes more pearls of pre dribble from your tip, your own cock seemingly throbbing as his wild tongue throbs around inside of you from behind, forcibly stretching you with its width. The muscle thrashes around inside of you, wildly moving about, darting in and out of you like an excitable puppy drinking water from a lake. His tongue movements are uncoordinated and hungry, so much to the point that it's darting about with no clear destination, even causing a few stray licks to the underside of your balls that makes you flinch every time.
Pickle isn't particularly sure what he's doing or why he's doing it, but he couldn't stop himself from feeding into the curiosity. It surprised you as well, considering he's never done to you before and you had never felt so good down there like this.
Shamelessly, a group of researchers and scientists were watching this ensemble unfold in real-time, gathered around with food in their hands like shameless perverts watching an adult film.
For science! They would most likely say, ignoring their own instincts to shove a hand in their pants at the scene in front of them.
The licking, although pleasant, was becoming too much and there was a buildup you were feeling in your shaft that had you panting like a dog, clawing at the ground and smashing your skull against the dirt. For some unknown reason, Pickle took your sounds as a signal of sorts and he remembered his own issue, heavy uncircumcised cock seeming to throb and lift with eagerness. Yet again, he pulls himself back to position himself properly, lining himself up with your hole and then pushes the tip in, a chirp of excitement escaping him as he plunges in deeper, going in about halfway before you feel as though the insides of your stomach are literally being rearranged. Fertile balls are pressed up against yours as he manages to jam every inch into your awaiting hole, somehow you're able to take every inch, an impressive feat within itself. Perhaps, this is why he took you as a lover. A flash of memories comes to mind to both you and Pickle.
. . .
Pickle had his share of sexual partners— instinctually he went after women, who he ultimately killed by accident after ripping through their wombs with the deadly length between his thighs. He had found a woman once, able to take him fully, but she did not recuperate his feelings and escaped him after a session of breeding. Eventually, Pickle stumbled upon Cucumber, a man of smaller stature than him, but strong in his own way. Their first meeting was anything but friendly, both of them going after the same prey of a Jurassic animal, looking for their next meal, fighting each other while simultaneously fighting the creature in hopes of getting meat. Ultimately, they ended up killing the beast together and bregrundingly shared, taking from the hunted beast without acknowledging each other much after.
But through unfortunate events, you continued to run into each other at different points in both of your traveling journeys, but continued to ignore each other regardless. And on one of those fateful meet-ups, however, Pickle had made a mistake— a mistake that brought on a sense of fear that he'd never once had to deal with before.
Consuming a wasp.
The pain he'd felt from it made him more vocal than ever, scaring away beasts and other people alike. However, Cucumber was not fearful, instead, he went a pang of sympathy for the man who he'd considered somewhat of a companion.
Immediately jumping into action, tapping into a nurturing side that he sometimes would ignore, he wandered hurriedly to the nearest lake of water, cupped his hands and gathered a healthy amount of it into his hands and wandered towards the other man. He growled at that primitive man who was still in excruciating pain, opening his mouth in an attempt to get the message across to him and with tears in his eyes, Pickle obliged, reminding Cucumber of a whimpering babe who was hungry for milk.
Dumping the handfuls of water into Pickle's mouth, you watched as he held the water in his mouth for a moment and then spit it out, along with the wasp, coughing up quite a storm. You frowned as he coughed, hesitantly patting his back afterwards, and after a while, you left to gather something to soothe the residual burning— fruits, which you forced Pickle to eat, despite his disdain for eating things that he did not hunt himself. But when he did as you wanted, the burn disappeared and you were ready to take your leave after helping him— only to have the man hot on your tail, everywhere you went, following you closely from behind.
Surprisingly, you didn't shoo him away, and that was what began the true extent of your strange relationship. It didn't take much longer before he would develop something new, love, and you returned the feeling. And in a moment of intimacy one late night, under the stars, he'd mounted you for the first time like a woman and breeded you under the moonlight. It was somewhat romantic, even with the guttural sounds of pleasure and delight that came from you both. And when you took him in his entirety without complaint, he was even more infatuated with you than he'd already been.
. . .
The primal man is grinning at this point as he's able to properly mount you, beginning to thrust at a pace that has your body rocking back and forth, his mouth and the area around it shiny with his own saliva as he plunges further. You're lucky you're stronger than the average and modern man, claws digging further into the dirt to keep yourself from toppling forward. Pickle is pounding into you, thrusting his hips with a tenacity that's enough to shake the trees around you, you're lucky your body is built for the brutality.
Watchful eyes are carefully observing, even going as far as to have a discussion onto why the two of you had chosen each other as mates since there was no chance of either of you reproducing. Then again, did reproducing matter much to the primitive people of your time? Apparently not, though Pickle seemed to be /breeding/ you as if it were indeed, possible.
Poor Cucumber was experiencing the true strength of Pickle's excitement, quite literally being fucked into the ground by a beast of mass destruction. The researchers collectively feel a sense of great respect for you as you handle the creature on top of you with gritted teeth, groaning and growling as you take every inch. It's a rough experience that leaves you teary eyed, wobbly lipped, and whining, just like all the other times he has his way with you. Pickle doesn't seem to let up, not even when your teeth chatter as a familiar and growing pleasure comes over you, blossoming in your hips and cock, strings of white spewing from your tip and onto the ground beneath you in spurts that seem to last far too long. Your cock seems to soften after cumming a second time, though it continues to twitch and swing with the pistoning of barbaric hips that continuously drive you forward. Squelching and the sound of skin repeatedly colliding is nearly as loud as the proud growls Pickle does, his chest vibrating with an animalistic equivalent of pride when you cum, squeezing his erection enough to milk him just right.
And fortunately, your poor hole doesn't need to take much more abuse before Pickle reaches his edge as well, unleashing copious amounts of his load into you, cum spilling out the edges where your bodies connected, dribbling out in the dirt like lines of salt. You'd felt full like this before, never able to get used to the feeling but still enjoying it regardless, a strange after result is the slight pouch in your lower belly that is made due to an immense amount of cum. Pickle holds himself there for a bit before pulling out and he's /still/ coming, ropes of the sticky white landing on your back and your rear, the insane amount he's dumped into you beginning to spill out and trickle from your gaping, spasming hole. Your lover lets out an affirmative, satisfied groan and then lays down onto the ground on his side right next to you. He wraps one of his lengthy arms around you and pulls you towards him, your chest neerly flush against his, and you rest your forehead against his shoulder, panting as you attempt to catch your breath, almost as if you'd been running after an especially fast prey. Pickle shuts his eyes and rests his chin on top of your head as he slowly shuts his eyes, having been drained of energy. It's not long before he's asleep and his body naturally locks in place around you, almost like a protective barrier. One of his legs is draped over yours, hooked behind your knees, his monstrous cock nestled between your thighs while yours is squeezed between your stomach and his abdomen, lower bodies entangled where it's almost difficult to distinguish between limbs. His arm is still wrapped around your back, the other had joined, slipping beneath you as his hands interlocked behind your back. This position is new, he's usually laying right on top of you when he sleeps, completely covering you up like a shell on the back of a turtle, making it nearly impossible to see you beneath him unless one looked from very specific angles.
You're tired as well, hole still leaking with Pickle's cum as your eyelids grow heavy. Your body is hot and sticky with sweat, making your skin stick to his, but you always find comfort in his presence, snaking your own arms around the massive man's body the best way you can before you drift off to sleep as well.
To the researchers and facility crew who are still watching on the security cams, they see the cuddling session as wholesome— despite the previous actions of you both— and nearly coo at the cuddling session.
Perhaps they would need to adjust their research and find different questions to think about...
i'm pretty sure the last time i talked to you i was HIGH 😭 anyways idk if you'll remember me but i'm the one who was like " You're who i wanna be at 22" and i sent the gif of mario kissing sonic 😓
:0 I remember you !!!!! I will always remember that gif too 💀 how ya been? happy belated turkey day
i need smth cute with retsu. idgaf what you write i just wanna smooch him so badly you have no idea 😭😭 y'all dont understand that man has me in a chokehold
sigh. I don't know too much about retsu but like....
Could you imagine participating in a wash day for him??? Now, okay, I know some people find it weird that certain people have days especially dedicated to haircare but whatever, let's talk about it because I have a strange obsession with hair and—
Retsu was a bit apprehensive at first when you offered to help him with his hair, not that he didn't trust you, no, in fact, he trusted you with his entire life.and then some. It's just that he's never had such an experience before. He was just barely becoming accustomed to affection and getting used to your love language as well as finding what his was. You'd been dating for a couple months now but you were patient with him and he was patient with you. And when you brought up washing and doing his hair for him, you swore you saw the beefy man's brain buffering in real-time, even going as far to say that you'd saw smoke coming out of his ears, but luckily, he obliged.
And here you were, using the kitchen sink to wash his hair, taking on the role of hairstylist for the day, eager to test your hair washing skills. Retsu sat in a chair in front of the sink, head tilted back with a rolled up towel used to protect his neck from the metal bowl. Retsu had undone his braid and you laid out his hair in the sink, that you'd thoroughly cleaned beforehand and put in a special drainer for hair, while you turned the water on to let the temperature heat up.
While doing that, you opened a bottle of the shampoo he often used and squeezed a hefty amount in your palms before warming it up in your hands. And then you began to wash his hair, carefully massaging his scalp while hearing your boyfriend sigh in relaxation. You scrubbed and bunched and scrunched— all the fix-ins, and maybe about three minutes later you could hear Retsu snoring. Did you have the magic touch?
The thought was enough to make you snicker to yourself as continued to wash his hair, being extra careful with the silky locks. If there was one thing that Retsu cared about almost as equally as he cared about his fighting craft, it was his hair. You were somewhat aware of the importance to it in his culture, but you didn't know too much about the deeper meanings. Even so, you were glad that he'd trusted you enough and felt safe enough to nap while you tangled your fingers in his hair.
And by the time you finished shampooing, you moved onto conditioning his hair, deciding to let it sit for a bit before you'd rinse it. As you waited, you stepped back and watched your lover sleep, looking peaceful and unbothered. You took the time to study his face a little more than usual, taking note of his handsome face. He seemed to have a permanent scowl, but you couldn't help but to notice that while he slept, the lines in his face seemed to relax a little.
"Do you usually stare at your customers while washing their hair?"
His voice startled you out of your self-induced trance and you nearly stumbled back but quickly caught yourself, trying to play it off as he peeked an eye open, eyeing you with a bit of a cocky smirk.
"Oh shut it. You're my first and only customer. Consider yourself lucky."
You then huffed, deciding to wash the conditioner out of his hair before you both started bickering.
Once you'd washed his hair, you applied one of the hair masks he'd use to keep his hair shiny and sleek and then it was time for a movie, letting the mask sit for a bit. And when the thirty minute mark hit, you were rinsing out his hair yet again, pulling out the special drying towel he'd often use to dry his hair with minimal tears and such.
Now, with you on the couch, Retsu sat between your legs on the floor in front of the couch while you were brushing his hair like the crazy bitch in Rapunzel, thankfully you weren't singing. It was obvious that this was the best part for Retsu, you could practically hear him purring as you brushed through his hair, the bristles caressing his scalp with each stroke. And by the time you were done brushing through his locks, you could have sworn you heard him whine when you stopped and started to braid his hair, just how he liked to usually style it.
And once you were truly done, you tugged on your work, pulling his head back by his pigtail and he tilted his head back to look up at you with a grunt. You leaned down and pressed a kiss to his forehead before patting one of his cheeks.
"I take payment through Cash App, Venmo, PayPal, or through kisses. Take your pick."
pickle x prehistoric! shot male reader who's like his most precious s/o and overprotective during the prehistoric times and then now in the future. it can be fluff with a bit of angst.
almost the same height as baki or something.
notes: okay okay okay, I'm so sorry I'm late on this but I now have the brain capacity to write somethin' worth readin'...
yandere-ish! possessive! pickle x prehistoric! male! reader
warnings: violence, blood, body horror (not to reader), pickle is a lil' yandere ngl—, possessive and protective behavior, angst, kidnapoing, mention of smut but no explicit descriptions, male reader, amab reader, mxm, mlm, homophobes dni, mdni, 3.7k+ words (I went a lil' ham ngl)
Unexpectedly, the Jurassic research team had never expected to have a primitive man at their fingers, suspended in time and saline— not just one, but two. However, strangely enough, they both looked distinctively different, one was much taller and muscular than the other, causing the researchers to question the periods in time in which both had existed. That was quickly disproven despite this, seeing how the two of the men were encased in the very same saline rock, back to back as if they'd been frozen in time in the middle of protecting each other from an outside threat. On the outside looking in, it was quite poetic in a way, a clear display of humanity in its ideal form, hardened in resin. It was almost a shame that they would be carefully melting away the rock to get a better view of the two men encased in the saline.
The biggest theory amongst the researchers was that the two men could potentially be siblings, the taller one being the oldest brother while the younger was the shorter one; even if they didn't explicitly look alike. There was also the theory about them being father and son, there was no definitive answer— yet.
And so, with as much excitement as most scientists who were ready to discover something new, the thawing process had begun on the saline rock that held two great mysteries.
It took a bit of time for the researchers to thaw the rock with pure caution, wanting to keep the two beings intact as much as possible and so, they'd decided to thaw one side at a time— starting with the smaller man first. About two days later, they had managed to thaw him out completely and get him onto a gurney that surprisingly creaked and squeaked under his weight. They hooked the man up to monitors and machines, eager to see what exactly was going on with him, and to their shock— there was a faint heartbeat which required more close surveillance from them. The man looked almost as if he was stuck in a peaceful sleep, seemingly unable to wake up.
Half of the research team found themselves debating on whether or not they would apply modern technology to this man, wanting to reanimate him while the other focused on melting away the rest of the saline and getting a better look at the beast of a man while keeping the smaller man under surveillance.
And to their astonishment (and horror) the beast woke as they had managed to melt the saline away, stopping about halfway past his torso. One could only imagine the look of terror on the faces of the small, everyone was small compared to this creature, scientists as they stared up at him. He simply stared back, unmoving, but blinking, glancing around briefly at his confusing new surroundings that looked nothing like what he knew when he was younger.
Project Pickle was a success, but could the same be said about Project Cucumber?
Despite the looming and watchful eyes of the eight foot tall man who watched each and every one of them as they worked, the scientist continued to melt away the saline while Pickle remained still. Based on instinct alone, he did not sense any imminent danger, therefore, he saw none of the people in the room as immediate threats.
That did not last long, when he was completely free, he began to look around more, almost as if he was looking for something specific, tendrils of dark locks swinging as he looked rather perplexed. Then, he briefly sniffed the air, pupils dilating as his gaze zeroed in on the high security door that kept him tucked away in a metal box he didn't care to think about. And he began to walk towards the door, unknowing of what he was doing exactly, and stared at it, sniffing the air once again.
Surprisingly, the military personnel that worked as security on the premises didn't even bother to move, not even when the beast of a man snatched the door clean off it's securely bolted in to get a peek inside. He then crouched under the doorway to walk through it, almost like he was walking into a cave and made his way towards the gurney that held Cucumber's sleeping form. The scientist in the room all audibly gasped, shuddering in fear as he took some steps forward, standing at the foot of the gurney that still held your body.
The silence in the facility was deafening, even a single needle would be heard if it were to hit the cold tile floor.
And that's when Pickle moved, grabbing a hold of your calf to give it a squeeze that would have surely shattered the bones of a modern hero. Coincidentally, it had only caused your eyes to shoot open, a sound of anger coming from your mouth that was accustomed to a growl as you sat up, grabbing at the hand of the being who'd rudely woken you from your sleep. Only then when you were awake did Pickle loosen his grip and your eyes met for the first time in over hundreds of millions of years. The moment was wholesome to the two of you, but somewhat eerie to those looking on the outside in.
From then on, Pickle and Cucumber were given their own special area where they spent all their time together. There was one thing that was quite noticeable about the pair, Pickle did not like it when people got too close to Cucumber, often growling and baring his teeth at anyone who came too close. On the other hand, he would let the scientist get close to him so long as they kept their distance from you. Their interactions were simple enough, no words were exchanged but there was the occasional grunt and groan as they seemed to speak to each other in their own silent way. The original theories of the scientist believing that you were siblings was proving stronger and stronger with each day.
That— however, would soon change upon witnessing an... interaction between the two of you.
One late evening, the scientists were simply busying themselves with their research, not even paying much attention to the two men in their makeshift habitat. That was until the sound of growling, hissing, and other wild, animalistic noises coming from one of the monitors that was watching over the Projects. Curiously, the several scientists turned to look at the screen, mostly with mystified looks on their faces.
It looked like Pickle and Cucumber were battling, roughhousing in the dirt of the carefully constructed enclosure, biting and scratching at one another. Almost immediately, the scientists were ready to jump into action to find some way to subdue the two of them before something horrible happened and ruined their research, but nothing could have prepared them for what came next.
The winner of the wrestling match was Pickle, and he was eager to claim his prize. The scene that played out on the monitor was enough to make every single personnel who was watching blush like roses in a garden.
Welp, there goes their family theory... The last thing they had ever expected was that these two primitive men would be engaging in a romantic partnership, yet here they were— the sounds the two of them were making was proof. And surely, they should have all looked away, but they couldn't seem to look away, only doing so when the two men had both tired each other and decided to fall asleep, cuddling together as if they hadn't just violated each other in the most criminal and animalistic way. The two of them looked almost innocent in a way, Pickle easily dwarfed Cucumber in the spooning embrace but at least the two of them seemed comfortable.
From then on, the researchers that watched you both seemed to look at your interactions under a new light, noticing the romantic undertones with everything the two of you did together.
Pickle had a refusal to eat things that he did not actively hunt and seeing how there were no animals in the enclosure, he did not eat. And fortunately, considering the differences in biology, the primitive man was able to withstand being without food for a much longer period of time than what modern day people could do now.
A few weeks after being thawed from your saline sanctuaries, and constantly being observed by the weirdly skinny people with their weird furs, you were beginning to become more and more curious yourself. So much so that while Pickle was sleeping and one of the massive walls moved, your eyes immediately flew towards it and watched as one of the skinny people came into the room cautious and careful, holding something in their hands that seemed to be carrying other things. In interest, you stared at them, watching their every move, staying completely alert as they set the thing with things down and scurried away behind the moving wall.
Pickle was still slumbering deeply as you stared at the new thing in your enclosure before slowly approaching, sniffing around so that you could safely close the distance. As you got closer, familiar scents filled your nose and a sound of approval, similar to the sound of a chirp, was heard before you picked up a familiar fruit, peeling it off its skin and beginning to happily indulge in the fruity flavor. You sat beside the thing of things, the bowl of fruit, and happily ate the delicious treat, crossing your legs in a comfortable manner.
The eyes of your lover soon fluttered and he felt around on the ground, using his touch to try and find you, and when he is unable to, an angry growl is the only sound he makes before getting onto all fours, glancing around like a predator on a hunt. That was until he felt your presence and smelled you again, along with some strangely familiar scents and so he crawled in the direction of whether the scent was strongest.
If there was one thing to give credit on, it was the enclosure that the scientist has carefully constructed for the two of you looked like a forest, filled with trees and dirt and patches of grass, but there was an area where you often would relax— a clearing where the trees were a bit more sparse and the dirt was more abundant. That was also where Pickle and Cucumber were able to see the wall move and keep a close eye on the scientists and researchers who entered the enclosure.
The man crawled his way towards where he could smell where your scent was strongest and soon stumbled upon you hunched over, back facing him, and shoving things in your mouth, stuffing your cheeks with your newfound feast. Be that as it may, upon sensing Pickle's presence, you paused and in your squatting position, you shuffled your feet around, pivoting so that you could face Pickle. Soon enough, you flashed him a grin, mouth drenched in sweet juices as you beckoned him over with a hand.
He trusted you completely, but the same couldn't be said about what you were consuming, his eyes peeking between you and the fruit as he slowly crawled towards you. As soon as Pickle was within reach, you were quick to pluck one of the grapes from its stem and shove into his mouth, almost as if you were nonverbally saying 'try this!'
Caught off guard by the strange thing shoved in his mouth, he nearly spit it out but you quickly gave him a pleading look, puppy eyes causing his shoulders to slump, holding the grape in his mouth rather awkwardly. Huffing in frustration at him, you pointed a clawed nail towards your mouth and pretended to chew before pointing at Pickle, a look of concentration on your face as you nodded at him, hoping he'd get the message— he did.
At first, you couldn't tell how he'd felt about the grapes based on his facial expressions alone but that soon changed when his eyes widened, and then an approving sound followed.
"Hm!"
You couldn't agree more, grinning as you plucked a few more grapes, making a sound similar to a laugh when Pickle basically unhinged his jaw as you threw grapes in his mouth, one by one like a childish game.
This was another thing that the researchers had noticed, the two of you were easily amused by the simplest things, acting rather childishly despite both being full-grown adults. It was almost endearing in a way, watching the two of you, mostly you, feed each other fruits, enjoying yourselves with no active threats of danger in your lives. It was almost something to be jealous of... And that was when the researchers' curiosity seemed to spark, and perhaps an experiment would lead to some interesting results, as dangerous as they may be, but it would take an intricate amount of planning for every possible outcome.
Weeks pass.
At the exact same time every day, more bowls of fruit are brought for the two of you, the amount of fruit only seeming to double in sizes each and every time. The two of you actively seem to enjoy the fruit, the grapes being an especially popular fruit between the two of you. You were often feeding Pickle and yourself the fruit, happily enjoying them each and every time.
And just as usual, one of the skinny people brought in more bowls of fruit, with even more fruit than you could ever imagine. And naturally, you both dug right in, enjoying the sweet flavors wholeheartedly. That was until the world began to spin around you and Pickle, your vision growing spotty and blurred. Before either you or Pickle can register, your body's hit the ground and the last thing you see is Pickle attempting to crawl over you, wishing to protectively drape himself over your body but you lose consciousness before seeing if he's made it.
Much to the surprise of the researchers, the tranquilizers they'd injected into the fruit had finally worked! And now they could perform their experiment in peace— a great number of security personnel piled into the enclosure and grabbed a hold of your body, carrying you out of the enclosure and shutting the door behind themselves, carrying you to somewhere else within the facility.
The door was then properly amped up with the greatest technology the facility could offer, mostly looking to measure the strength of Pickle and his partnership with you.
When the next day came, Pickle awoke, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the enclosure he was entrapped in. He slowly sat up once his senses were back at their full use, though his body was still a bit drowsy and tiredly glanced around. Naturally, he was wondering where you were, causing him to click his teeth together in a particular way, calling out for you in his own special call.
And when he got no response, usually an excitable chirp, he got on all fours and began to crawl around the enclosure, sniffing and looking for where you could be hiding. Having been in the enclosure for so long, your scent was still lingering and he knew that you liked to play games— hiding from him, but with each passing second of him calling you and climbing up a few trees to find your usual hiding places, his panic was becoming more and more apparent. And before anyone could register the true terror of Pickle, the man stood on his two feet and roared at the fake sky, the power from it was enough to shake the entire enclosure.
The pure, unfiltered rage could be felt even through the security cameras currently being observed.
Perhaps this was a mistake.
Another growl followed before Pickle could be seen barreling towards the moving wall // enforced door with great speed and animosity, almost as if he knew that they were withholding his beloved from him. A line of personnel were on the other side of the door, prepared for what was to come next, and when he came in contact with the door, slamming his head into the metal, a noticeable dent from the outside was created but the door did not immediately give out. Another roar of anger came from him as reared back and began to repeatedly pound his fists into the door, dent after dent being put into the door that would not budge like the one he'd destroyed after waking up.
On the other side of the facility, you weren't doing any better, having woken up about an hour after Pickle, you were surprised to see the new enclosure, confused on where you were and most importantly— where Pickle was. Nothing smelt or felt familiar and you couldn't sense him. And unlike Pickle, you didn't immediately react with rage, instead, you reacted in a rather panicked way, climbing up the nearest tree for a better vantage point. When you saw no sight of Pickle, the anxiety began to set in, not even considering the possibility that he was still somewhat close by and that you'd been forcibly separated from him by the researchers who were still observing you both with keen eyes, notebooks and pens in hand.
They keep you separated for days, watching as Pickle's rage only grows and your anxiety seems to be eating away at you, almost deteriorating you at a rapid pace. Watching your differing reactions was proving to be even more interesting than they'd originally hypothesized. And while doing this experiment, the scientist had not revealed themselves to either primitive men, but about four days after the experiment started, one of the researchers had offered that they go back to sending in the bowls of fruit to see how they'd react.
Naturally, they chose to give you the fruit first.
And when the wall opened, your gaze immediately snapped up and you moved faster than they'd anticipated, hurriedly approaching the person with the bowl of fruit on all fours. The scientist is horrified at first, watching as you stare at him with pleading, puppy-like eyes. And then, you open your mouth before closing it, almost as if you were trying to say something but were hesitating.
Every scientist was on the edge of their seats, not expecting your reaction in the slightest.
Your mouth opens and closes a few more times before you finally speak, though the words are a bit broken, syllables are a bit hard to comprehend for you at the moment.
"Hmm...hm...hi—him." You move your hands above your head and begin to mess with the air, almost as if you were playing with long hair, obviously talking about Pickle.
"Wh...wha...wha...here..? Whe—whe...where?"
You did not get the reaction you wanted, watching as the scientist dropped the bowl of fruit and ran away, the wall shutting quickly behind him. As soon as the door fully closed, you lunged at it and slammed your fists onto it, broken words soon following as you pleaded, eyes beginning to water.
"Plee...plea— plea..? Please?!"
The sight of you whimpering and pounding your fists on the door is nearly enough to make the scientists sympathetic, watching as you crumble in on yourself, clearly suffering from some kind of abandonment issue. So much so that you were willing to speak their language to try and communicate. They wondered if you could learn more words and perhaps even sentences in the future. Perhaps they should have separated the two of you since the very beginning.
On the fifth day, Pickle had stopped pounding on the door, the amount of dents he'd left in the door was a concerning amount and the personnel had even grown fearful that he'd end up breaking through it soon, but they were fortunate that it seemed he'd given up. And instead, he simply sat down in front of the door, crossing his legs and his arms over his chest, waiting for the wall to open, almost as if he was expecting it.
It never opened.
Not that day.
Not the next day.
And not the next day.
The doors would open often for you, the scientists would bring you fruit and strange things while they spoke to you, trying to get you to talk to them again but your eyes were always wandering behind them, looking for Pickle in hopes of seeing him again. You do not remember the last time you'd been with him for such a long period of time, your anxiety seemed to build with each day.
"If you can just say one word— we'll bring you back to your mate, okay?"
The scientist said, waving their hands around as if that was going to help you understand what they were getting at. You simply furrowed your brows at them, trying to understand the weird noises they were saying to you. The language barrier was obvious.
As one would expect, the scientists were frustrated by the progress, trying to express to you their desires and what they wanted. They were getting nowhere.
Pickle had remained seated like a statue in front of the door, unmoving and waiting for the perfect moment to strike. He had to find you, and he wasn't going to let this strange thing stop him from doing so.
Though he may not be the smartest, he knew that his fists had worn down this strange stone wall and just a few more shoves would soon bend to his will. And so, suddenly, he stood up and got into a fighting position, bringing his fist back before shooting it forward at the speed of a bullet that breaks the sound barrier with a clap and the door goes flying, crushing the line of personnel on the other side against the nearest wall, turning them into mush.
He steps out, a blank, uninterested stare on his face. An alarm soon goes off at this, seeing how he'd just brutally murdered some of security, but that didn't stop Pickle from continuing to walk, eager to find where you are, wanting nothing more than to have you back safe in his arms. And if that means crushing the skulls of small people, he wouldn't mind, so long as he got back to you.
Was bitten, not born, and he kinda loves being a monster.
He used to feel all angsty about his condition, that is until he used it to get rid of a bastard who in his mind, committed a great sin against you and your relationship (some dude made you giggle which he took as a threat), now he's all for it.
Likes to scent you even though you can't smell it, he can.
And boy oh boy does he like it when he's the only thing he can smell on you.
But that means God help you if you dare to come home smelling like someone else, will pitch the biggest fit.
Can shift on command, has been afflicted since he was 18 so he's had a lotta practice on getting this thing under control.
Hence the scarring, but if you ask him he'll just say he's clumsy.
Age 24 this big boy stands at a tall 6'5
Scary dog privilege goes without saying.
Bites to give affection
Please bite him back
Favorite color is that pale blue the sky is when the sun is first coming up.
Works as a security guard for a small plaza in your town, keeping little old ladies safe and all that, his stature is enough to stop most would be criminals but if someone tries him he's more than happy to bare his teeth.
Accidental flirt, he makes really intense eye contact when he speaks to people, that paired with his warm baritone voice leaves mf's flustered.
Smells faintly of campfire and the woods, always has dirt on his shoes.
Would walk around barefoot if he could.
Please pretty please pet this mf's hair.. he will fall apart in your lap.
Protective/delulu yandere, in his brain y'all are basically married, so ofc he's gonna glare at the UPS guy until he's too freaked out and leaves your package by the driveway
Don't worry he'll go get it
Kinda just inserts himself in your life, but he's so smooth with it, it's hard to stay mad
One second he's some hot dude you see around town the next thing you know he's in your house raiding your fridge and complaining about your snack selection.
Huge foodie, something about shifting makes him hungry, he eats like he's filming a mukbang
Surprisingly funny for such a stoic looking fucker
Has a dry wit and he can come off as blunt or rude but it's just his tizzim' (samebro)
Outdoorsy and handy
In his dream life y'all live in a secluded cabin in the thick woods where the only person with access to you was him
If you're in the dark about his condition he'll keep you in the dark as long as possible but it's hard not to know when he's basically a doberman that got turned into a man
Extremely loving and warm, likes to bear hug you when y'all sleep, unless you got a queen sized bed he will take up the entire thing.
His socks are always mix matched
Likes keeping a braid in his hair, especially if you're the person braiding it.
Has binged the Twilights with you and has a personal beef with Jacob
Radiates heat like a mf, even in his human form he runs hot as hell, like to keep a window open at night but don't worry, getting cold isn't possible with him next to you.
Likes baggy clothes because he's big.
When he gets real man, like real mad his nails grow into claws, has scars on his palms from clenching his fist too hard.
His eyes flash with hints of yellow when he's turning.
All in all this good boy just needs someone to hold his leash.
I present to you a - probably quite incomplete, I’m sure I’m missing a lot of speech sounds - reference list and a bit of a guideline for the different ways one can describe the sounds your characters make whilst writing smut. I’ll definitely be referring to it, because I sometimes get stuck on exactly how to describe a particular noise. (aka, “he can’t groan again, he just groaned last paragraph”)
Combine a descriptor and a sound for best effect - for example, “needy moan,” “pleased hum,” or “sudden scream.” You can even use two: “low, rough grunt,” “sweet little cry,” “desperate, filthy noise,” as long as you don’t repeat a word that means the same thing, unless you really want to emphasize it. Avoiding repetition is pretty key here. You don’t usually want to say “hushed, quiet gasp” except on rare occasions when it’s very important how soft the sound was.
Use your own common sense, as well; some sounds and descriptors don’t generally work well together. “Deliberate shriek” probably wouldn’t work well, and neither would “languid grunt,” but again, this is all very situational - play around! Have fun.
Feel free to add to my lists, use for your reference or pass them around. It would be fun to see a randomized generator made, too, I’m just too lazy to do it myself. ;)
Synopsis- Your room mate tried to warn you about dresses with zippers that go all the way down, luckily Sero knows how to warm you up- If you'd let him. (No Smut til Part 2)
Reader Characteristics- purple hair, chubby/curvy, high anxiety, female. Jokingly referred to as 'princess' (royalty, not ageplay).
“Stop. Laughing.” You ground out at your best friend and room mate as you struggled to keep the bandage dress on your body. The partial spandex material refused to stay stretched and wrapped around you, revealing glimpses of your front for all to see. Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment as you clenched the unruly dress closed in one hand while juggling your cellphone in the other. “It's not funny, Denks.”
Denki Kaminari begged to differ, judging from his loud wheezing laughter that nearly echoed through the cell speaker. You shot the phone an irritated glare, even though he couldn't see it.
Denki's laughter only intensified at your words. “Are you kidding me? This is the funniest thing I've heard all week, especially since I told you not to buy that damn dress.” he crowed.
“You were right, I was wrong- Now please pick my ass up because I can't leave this fucking alley” You groaned, the sound amplified by the stone walls. You wedged the cellphone between your shoulder and ear, desperately trying to keep the dress from slipping further but the struggle felt futile.
"No can do," Denki's laughter subsided, tinged with a hint of regret. "I'm on shift for another 2 hours," he sighed, almost sympathetically. You groaned in frustration, hopes of a quick rescue dashed.
“Seriously, Denks? Can't you just take a break to bring me clothes or something? It's an emergency” You fought back the rising desperation in your voice. You were at your wit's end, trapped in this embarrassing predicament. “My ass is in a thong, fishnets and not much else here, now that my dress snapped off my body.”
As you spoke, a chill breeze swept through the narrow space between the buildings, sending a shiver down your spine. You hugged yourself, trying to ward off the cold. Damn it, this sucked.
"Not this time, I'm on patrol on the other side of the city. You should call Sero, he's in your area grabbing food anyway," Denki suggested, his voice carrying a teasing lilt. He knew all too well about your crush on his best friend, and he never missed an opportunity to playfully prod at your feelings.
You were, of course, fucking mortified by Denki's suggestion.
"Absolutely not!" you protested vehemently. The thought of asking Sero for help in your current state was enough to make you want to disappear into thin air. The last thing you wanted was to show up in front of Sero looking like a hot mess, with the semi-spandex dress barely clinging onto your body. "I can't just call him out of the blue for- this!"
Your heart sank as Denki's voice on the other end of the line grew distant. "Look, you need someone to pick you up, it's too cold to stay out in this. Be brave and call Sero or ring a cab," his words trailed off as your ears picked up Mina's voice in the background, urgently telling Denki they needed to go. “I'll seeya when my shift is over.”
"Wait, Denki- Denks? Denks!" you called out, panic creeping into your voice as you heard nothing but silence on the other end. "Fuck," you cursed under your breath, frustration twisting your stomach into knots.
Looking down, you scrolled through your contacts, hesitating between calling Sero or hailing a cab through the line. The thought of Sero seeing you in such a compromising position made your cheeks heat up in embarrassment all over again. But the freezing temperatures and the realization that waiting out in the cold was not a viable option pushed you to make the tough choice.
Summoning a cab seemed like the fastest way to salvage your dignity and get home, but the question remained—how would you even explain your current, uh, “situation” to the driver? Your wardrobe malfunction was far from ideal, coupled with the edgier style of your outfit and makeup, you could already see judgmental look on the driver's face.
Alone in the dark alley, you took a deep breath, attempting to collect yourself. "I'll be fine," you said aloud, more to convince yourself than anything else. You clung to the hope that Denki would be able to help you once he finished his patrol.
As if the universe wanted to taunt you further, flurries started falling from the dark storm clouds overhead, like icy confetti mocking your current predicament. You shivered as the cold wind picked up, cutting through your thin attire. You huddled closer against the off AC unit, seeking whatever little shelter it could provide.
You hugged yourself tighter, your exposed skin prickling with the icy touch of the snowflakes. Your mind raced, considering the options. Waiting until Denki finished his patrol seemed foolish now, as frostbite became an imminent threat.
"This is stupid. I'm being stupid." you muttered to yourself. With a determined but shaky fingers, you decided to call Sero instead of rolling the dice with a stranger.
Your heart raced as you dialed his number. The phone rang for a moment before Sero's voice came through the line. "Yo, what's-" he began, but before he could finish his sentence, the embarrassment of the situation hit you again. Defying logic and reason- you immediately hung up the phone in a panic, unable to find the courage to explain the humiliating predicament to the hero you had been crushing on for weeks.
"What was I thinking? He's never gonna look at me the same way again," You muttered to yourself. anxiety gnawing at your stomach, as you tapped your forehead with your cellphone in your free hand. You put your phone away and tried to reposition the fighting fabric.
Your hands trembling at their positions keeping the dress wrapped around your body. You tried to push through the anxiety, but the fear of being exposed in such a state made it impossible for you to do something as simple and redial Sero's number. You pressed your back against the corridor wall, mind filled with a whirlwind of conflicting emotions and thoughts.
Sero continued his walk down the street, the flurries falling gently around him. He had decided to order dinner from the Vietnamese place a few blocks away, craving something warm and comforting on this wintery night. The warm black jacket wrapped snugly around him, and his lace-up boots crunched against the freshly fallen snow, and honestly he liked nights like this. As he walked, his phone vibrated in his pocket, the screen lighting up with an incoming call.
He quickly answered the call, slinging the phone to his ear. "Yo, what's-" Before he could even finish his sentence, you hung up the call abruptly. He lowered his phone and stared at it perplexed for a moment. He did just get a call from you- right?
<<Did you call me on purpose?>> Sero typed up a text and hit the send button, hoping for a response that would clear his confusion. Just after he sent it, his head perked up, catching the sound of a message alert coming from an alley up ahead. Curiosity getting the better of him, Sero pocketed his phone and headed towards the source of the sound.
As Sero's eyes swept over the dark alley, he caught sight of familiar purple ponytails peeking over the top of a large AC unit. A smile tugged at the corners of his lips, he could recognize your distinct hair anywhere. Wanting to respect your privacy, Sero quickly ducked out of the alley before calling out in a friendly but teasing tone, his voice carrying a hint of amusement, "Ya know, public urination is generally frowned upon."
“Sero?!” Your head snapped up in surprise, eyes widening with mortification. "That is not what I'm doing, you ass!" you retorted heavy with indignation, as you peeked over the top of the AC unit.
He couldn't help but let out a bark of laughter at your snappy response. His playful smile widened as he watched your reaction. He couldn't help but find your embarrassed state adorable, and it made his heart skip a beat. Smiling warmly, he strolled closer towards your hiding spot, the snow crunching under his boots with each step.
“Stay right there!” your voice nearly a barking order, and Sero stopped in his tracks.
"Alright, alright, no need to get worked up.” He raised his hands in a non-threatening manner, taking a step back to give you some space. Leaning casually against the alley wall, Sero raised an eyebrow and smirked playfully. His voice took on a gentler tone, a hint of concern coloring his words. “Just wanted to make sure you're okay. It's freezing out here, you know?"
Your heart raced as Sero's voice filled the air, care evident in his words. You clenched your fists tightly around your dress, frustration and embarrassment washing over. you couldn't let him see you like this, not when you had been harboring feelings for him for so long.
"Er- no, I'm good!" you called out, forcing a smile onto your face. "I'm just, uh, taking a breather, you know?" You said vaguely, trying to downplay the situation. "Just needed some fresh air and all."
“Heh, you're a terrible liar” Sero's keen eyes studied your face, picking up on the discomfort in your expression. He had known you long enough to know everything about your behavior seemed off. Stepping closer to the AC unit, his voice softened as he pressed, "Look- I can tell something's not right. You can trust me, you know. What's really going on?"
Your heart pounded in your chest as you considered how much to reveal. Were you being foolish? Maybe, but the fear of humiliation still gripped you tightly regardless. Taking a deep breath, you decided to roll the dice, and made a split-second decision. "So..I bought this pretty black Tripp dress with belts all along the sides..."
"And it made me think of Lulu from final fantasy 10 and I loved it. I thought yo-" you cut yourself off as you stepped out from behind the AC unit, keeping your clothed back turned to Sero as you clung onto the fabric of your broken dress, trying in vain to cover your front. Your cheeks burned hot again as you mustered the words, forcing your voice above a whisper, "Anyway, it was a bandage dress with one long zipper all the way down- and Denki told me not to get the damn thing!" you rambled as you turned around to face him. "I just- I was heading out to grab food and the fucking zipper broke..!"
Sero didn't need to know that you had worn that dress hoping to run into him. The Vietnamese restaurant around the corner was the snowy weather ritual of Denki and Sero after all, regardless of whether their schedules matched up. Figures that you would try to "accidentally" run into Sero and your dress would come flying off, literally. God, you wished the earth would just swallow you whole.
Sero's eyes scanned your body on reflex. His gaze followed the curve of your thighs, the fancy fishnet tights slightly digging into your soft skin. His attention shifted slightly, taking in the glimpse of your ass visible through the gap between your thighs below your black lacy thong. It took all his willpower to tear his eyes away, a faint grin tugged at the corner of his lips.
But then Sero met your gaze, and his usual joking nature gave way to genuine concern. He could recognize the look in your eyes, the expectation that he would laugh or mock you for this incredibly embarrassing moment. Sero's chest tightened as he realized just how scared you were of being judged.
He couldn't help but notice the dampness of your hair from melted snowflakes and the slight tremor in your hands. "...How long have you been out here?" Sero asked, tone barely controlling the frustration that bubbled up.
"4.." you said trying to keep your tone casual as your teeth started to chatter, actively avoiding his eyes. You knew damn well you shouldn't have waited this long, but the fear of being judged by others, especially Sero, defied common sense regardless. You clenched your dress tighter around your body, trying to cover as much skin as possible.”40 minutes”
"Are you fucking kidding me..?" Sero muttered under his breath, his tone held more worry than mockery. He quickly shrugged off his warm black jacket, revealing his lean and muscular frame beneath a simple t-shirt, a stark contrast to his bulky upper arms. Without hesitation, he closed the distance between them in a few quick strides.
“S-Stop!” you protested weakly, your voice shaking with your chattering teeth. "I can't take your jacket, Sero."
Sero clicked his tongue, a playful frown and his usual smirk crossing his lips. "Keep giving me orders, and I'm gonna start calling you 'Princess'," he shot back with a friendly lilt. The damascus steel rings on his fingers glinted in the lamplight as he held out the jacket.
“I can't take your jacket away from you!” your teeth chattered as you vehemently protested, voice laced with genuine concern. You couldn't help but feel overwhelmed by Sero's kindness and couldn't fathom the idea of him being exposed to the cold in his thin shirt because of you. Your breathe trembled with each word as you pleaded, "I-I'm serious, put it back on. You'll freeze out here too"
His signature grin now fully stretched across his face. "That sounded like another order, princess," he replied bluntly. “You are seriously the most stubborn woman I have ever met.”
Ignoring your protests, Sero draped the warm fabric of his black jacket around your trembling figure. The jacket enveloped you like a protective cocoon, the soft fabric brushing against your nearly bare legs as it reached down to mid-thigh. Sero's scent stayed with the warm embrace of the jacket, a mix of his cologne, the deep essence of sandalwood, and the comforting smell of old books.
The jacket fit loosely against your body while the sleeves where much larger to accommodate Sero's quirk, providing you with a sense of warmth and security. You couldn't help but let out a small sigh of relief, feeling an instant sense of comfort wash over. As you nestled deeper into the jacket, tucking your hands within the sleeves, you could feel Sero's lingering warmth and scent all around. It was as if he had enveloped you in his protective embrace, shielding you from the biting cold and the chaos of the outside world.
You found yourself mesmerized by the scent that surrounded you a heady mix of cologne and nostalgia. It was uniquely Sero, and the familiar aroma sent a thrill down your spine. Your cheeks flushed hot again, your heart racing with the close proximity and the sheer intimacy of the moment. You couldn't help but wonder if Sero's scent would still linger on you even after you returned the jacket.
"Th-thank you," you stammered, your voice filled with gratitude and a hint of embarrassment. Despite your reluctance at first, you couldn't deny the warmth and comfort that Sero's jacket provided in the midst of the snowy night.
“Alright let's see here” Sero crouched down in front of you, his eyes focused on the task at hand. He ran a hand through his hair, a thoughtful expression crossing his face as he examined the broken zipper. His gaze fleetingly brushed over your fishnet-clad legs, the lacy straps of your thong peeking out from beneath the sheer tights. He did his best to push aside the thoughts of how incredibly, well hot, you looked. This was not the time or place, no matter how badly he wanted to bury his face in your thighs.
With a determined focus, Sero attempted to fix the bottom of your broken zipper, his fingers delicately maneuvering the fabric. But despite his efforts, the broken metal teeth refused to budge. Sero sighed in frustration, realizing that it was an impossible task to salvage the zipper.
"Looks like you're just gonna have to wear my jacket for now," Sero said with a glare at the offending zipper. He stood back up and extended his arm. His tape dispenser-like elbows firing off strands of tape that gracefully snaked their way around your partially exposed chest, waist, and hips. His hands brushed against your curves ever so slightly as he secured the tape in place, his touch sending electric shivers down your spine.
As Sero finished securing the tape, he zipped up the jacket, ensuring that you were properly covered. He stepped back to admire his handiwork, a satisfied grin on his face. "Well, would you look at that? You're all fixed up for now." He said, taking in your new outfit. "You make my jacket look even better than I do."
He crossed his arms over his chest, his own breath misting in the chilly air. Sero glanced towards the Vietnamese café across the street, remembering the order he had placed earlier. It was the perfect place to warm up before venturing back out into the freezing cold.
"Alright, let's get you warmed up with pho," he suggested, his tone soft but firm. "After that, we can head to my place since it's the closest. I've got some cl-"
However, before Sero could finish his plan, your eyes widened with horror, body tense with embarrassment. "Absolutely not!" you exclaimed mortified. The thought of being seen in your makeshift jacket "dress" by others was too much for your anxiety to handle. You adamantly refused to go any further.
Sero's eyes narrowed slightly, an edge of authority seeping into his voice as he spoke. "Not another word, princess," he ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument. His unusually serious attitude capturing your attention, it wasn't often that you saw the 'Cellophane' side of him. He sighed in a mix of frustration and begrudging understanding. "I know you don't want to be seen like this, but you need to warm up before we walk back to my place. Plus the cafe is waiting for me to pick up my order."
He gently reached out, his fingers intertwining with yours, providing a subtle reassurance amidst your panic. "Look- no one is going to say shit with me standing next to you" Sero added, his voice filled with warmth. He understood your concerns, but he also knew the harsh reality of the freezing weather outside. Walking all the way to his place without warming up beforehand would not be ideal, to say the least.
You hesitated, your gaze wavering as you assessed Sero's earnest expression. Your resistance slowly began to waver, a flicker of trust sparking to life. With a deep breath, you finally relented, knowing that Sero had your best interests at heart.
"Fine," you conceded, your voice still tinged with uncertainty. "But only if you promise to keep this jacket tightly closed and not let anyone see my... unique fashion choice."
“You want me to tape my favorite jacket closed?” Sero snorted, “I've got a better idea.” He held his shirt between his clenched teeth, the shifted fabric revealing his abs and v-line, as both of his hands went to the middle of his pants.
You spun right back around, immediately getting flustered. Well at least you didn't feel cold anymore.
“What are the hell are you doing?” you hissed over your shoulder, trying to keep your voice level. As if you wouldn't be thinking about that glimpse of his happy trail on repeat for the next week.
“Relax” Sero's teasing voice called out from behind you, “I'm not about to start stripping in the snow” as he unbuckled his leather belt studded with silver stars, and pulled it through the loops of his pants with a snap.
Sero closed the distance between them, his warm presence enveloping you from behind. His breath tickled your ear as he murmured "Hold out your arms for me”.
Your breath caught in your throat as Sero looped his belt gently around your waist, pulling it closed, creating an impromptu waist cincher. The little metallic stars on the belt glinting in the dim light against the black jacket.
"There we go," Sero chuckled, his voice a low timbre against your ear. His hands lingered around your waist for a moment longer than necessary, before he released his touch. He started taking off his rings, sliding the frozen black steel off one by one, before cracking his knuckles.
Sero took a step closer, until your back pressed against his solid frame, you felt a shiver of anticipation run down your spine. "Hold on to these for me, would ya?" his voice held a hint of mischief as he gently slid both of his hands into the pockets at the hips of the jacket you were wearing. His fingers grazed against your thighs, sending a spark through both of them as he dropped his rings into the jacket.
Sero slowly withdrew his hands from the pockets, the motion deliberate and sensuous. His fingers moved against your hips once again, teasingly tracing the fabric of the jacket "dress" as they moved upward. It was as if every touch was intentionally designed to send a shock of desire through your body.
Your breath hitched at the intimate touch. Your own hand found it's way into the one of the pockets, the weight of one of Sero's damascus rings in your palm. As you turned the cool piece of steel over between your fingers like a worry stone, you couldn't help but imagine how they would feel against your skin in a more intimate setting.
"I...really can't thank you enough for this, Sero. Tonight has been a disaster." you murmured flustered as you turned to face him, your eyes meeting his and finding a warm smile waiting for you. Your stomach flipped as you saw the genuine care in his gaze.
It was in moments like these that you couldn't help but feel drawn to him, there was just something magnetic about his presence. The sideburns lining his jaw, the glint of his black snakebite piercings, the subtle scent of his cologne—every detail made your heart flutter. The unspoken connection between them was undeniable, and in that moment, the alleyway seemed to fade away, leaving only the shared heat between the two of you.
"C'mon- Didya really think you'd be less beautiful over something as stupid as a broken dress?" Sero's low, velvety voice caressed your ears, the words rolling off his tongue with a smoothness that could melt the iciest of hearts. His lips curled upwards into his usual perfect grin, revealing a glimpse of his pearly white teeth. The mischievous glimmer in his eyes conveyed a sense of playfulness, and yet, beneath it all, there was a tenderness in his gaze that made your heart want to pound out of your chest. "It's gonna take a lot more than that to push me away."
You stood frozen in place, mouth slightly agape, unable to form any coherent response. The warmth that flooded your chest threatened to overwhelm you, mingling with a lingering shyness that set your cheeks ablaze. You'd never thought of yourself as particularly beautiful, but the way Sero saw you, amidst the chaos and overall humor of the your humiliating predicament, made you feel like the most cherished person in the world. You found yourself at a genuine loss for words.
It was in that moment you realized that you knew that your admiration for him went beyond a simple crush. You admired his strength, his humor, and the way he seemed to effortlessly hold himself with confidence and swagger. This man, with his confident persona and piercing gaze, had a way of making you feel seen and cherished in the most unexpected moments.
You never felt lower than you had in tattered clothes, hair ruined by wet snow, huddled in a dark alley- and yet...Here he was, an actual Hero, looking at you like you were the most radiant star in the sky.
A soft whimper escaped your lips, as you took a step closer to him. Silently, you snaked your arms around Sero's waist and pressed yourself against his chest, your heart pounding in sync with his. In that moment, words were futile, you couldn't figure out how to articulate what it was you wanted to say.
Yet, Sero didn't need you to. He just wrapped his arms around you and held you close.
Beneath your touch, you could feel the subtle rise and fall of his breathing, steady and comforting. It was as if the two of you were sharing an unspoken language, a connection that transcended any physical barrier. And in the silence, you found solace, knowing that sometimes, the most profound expressions of love were manifested through the simplest of gestures.
Wrapped in each other's hold, you both stood there for a timeless moment, the world fading away around you. In this moment, Sero was your anchor, someone who saw you for who you truly are, flaws and all. And thought it all beautiful anyway.
And in the quiet sanctuary of that corridor, your hearts beating in unison, you knew that you were exactly where you needed to be — in Sero's arms.
His hold tightened around you, warm hands rubbing circles on your back, as if shielding your from the outside world. His grip conveyed both strength and gentleness, and you finally felt yourself relax.
Slowly, Sero loosened his hold, his gaze never leaving you. His grin widened, the black hoops on his lower lip catching overhead lamplight of the alley. "Let's go get you warmed up, ya?" his voice held a tone of playful insistence.
Without waiting for a response, Sero gently took your hand in his, his touch sending a jolt of electricity coursing through you. Your fingers intertwined, your hand sliding into place in his like pieces of a puzzle. With a confident stride, he led you out of the dimly lit alley and into the bustling snowy streets.
If winter nights weren't Sero's favorite before, they certainly were now.
Author's Note: Obligatory "PLEASE don't be as stubborn as me, call your free friend/crush/cab", luckily Tripp dresses aren't made with a zipper all the way down anymore.
Tags: @dcsiremc @neon-gothicc @bakubunny
@purecoco (tagged you too since you liked the post, feel free to ignore!)
I really love that we are at the point where cosplay and just wearing whatever makes you feel cute despite what others say is common enough that I can see people in elf ears for something as mundane as the pizza joint on the corner.
I don't know how to explain this, but basically, when Pickle was found in America, coincidentally, another ancient living being was found inside a rock in Japan! So once the rock cracks, they release Oni Y/N in the same containment as Pickle, however, this makes the scientists wonder if other so called "mythical creatures" existed wayyy back in the period where people in Japan hunted these mythical creatures or believed in them, and that history or those stories are indeed real
Oni Y/N is basically younger than pickle (she's not from the Jurrasic era) but she acts much more mature than him and completely uninterested in fighting
The scientists couldn't tell if Oni Y/N is a man or female, however based on how Pickle acts around her, they're going to guess that the Oni is a woman
Oni Y/N is just as tall as Pickle, possibly a bit taller, standing at 8'8
I don't want to describe too much about her looks, but I imagine her wearing a mask that is connected to a fake wig, along with long ass clothes and sleeves, and none of those shows her figure, one of the reason why they couldn't figure out her gender in the first place is because the second she got released from that damned rock, she got up quickly so they didn't have the chance to atleast examine her thoroughly
It's your choice whether you want to make a small hc or a story of this, I'm fine with it either way, also can the potential love interest be between Jack and Pickle???
Love your work btw, keep it up🔥❤
I kinda want this to be a series... But that's up to you ofc!
-🎧anon
(ps: I know this is so long and I'm sorry, but this has been running in my mind for weeks, just needed to tell this to someone 😭)
I’m going to hope that the oni you imagined is depicted in the traditional way, because that’s the immediate thought I had when reading your idea. Japanese oni is one of my favorite things to draw, so before I could plan any text I begun a rough doodle of Reader instead. Although without the robes or mask, so we can get a proper glimpse at the giant demoness.
To add to your story, I suspect Yuujirou would also be very much interested in a powerful, mythical creature that has been brought back to life and could easily crush any opponent with little effort. I’d be tempted to go for a harem ending but I doubt Yuujirou is willing to share. Then again, does he have a choice? One knows better than to incur the wrath of the original Ogre.
