Easterncryptid - Something Different

𝒓𝒆𝒅𝒂𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒚 ✧ 𝒄𝒉 𝑽𝑰𝑰𝑰

pairing: charles brandon x duchess!reader

warnings: angst, inappropriate talk, smut (+18)

word count: 4,1k

taglist: @runawayolives​​ @kmuir1​​ @marytudorbrandon​​ @lharrietg​​ @shittingdicknipple​ @alexa-fangirl-forever​​ @mis-lil-red​​ @amberangel112​ @ohmygoodie @itmejado​​ @radaofrivia​​ @scarlets-widow​​ @ragamuffin285​​ @thereisa8ella​​ @titty-teetee​ @dropletsofkaisoo​ @kebabgirl67​​

a/n: i’m really not used to writing smut so don’t get ur hopes up it’s not the best thing so pls be nice to me i suck at this​

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Crucible - Ch 12

Pairing: Link x Reader

Prompt: For the Bittersweet Mini Bang!

Series Warnings (18+ only): Eventual smut, slow burn, violence, mild body horror, lots of whump, angst with a happy ending

Chapter Summary: You continue on your journey with the Champion, taking an unconventional route that only the mad would travel.

AO3

You made it back to your room without fanfare and only minimal staring, but that was to be expected after disappearing so dramatically. You hadn’t meant to cause trouble, you’d just… panicked.

And now your actions seemed a bit silly, even if they’d felt warranted at the time. You’d been half-convinced he would run you through with his legendary sword as soon as he stepped back in the healing room, and now here he was, escorting you back to the suite, sending you quick, but warm, smiles.

As you were packing up what little you had, you began to grow frustrated, unable to find your old tunic and trousers. You were still in the cloak and gown, and you were started to shiver from the cold and exposure.

There was a knock, and you looked up to find the prince standing in the open doorway, able to fit simply because the rooms were made very tall. He was smiling with a tinge of sheepishness while holding bundles of fabric in his hands.

“I hope this isn’t presumptuous of me, Lady Blue, but I had the servants wash your clothing and… well… when I realized this was all you owned, I couldn’t send you on your journey without fitting you with some proper Zora clothing.” He walked closer and held out the garbs, his smile growing shyer. “Think of it as a parting gift.”

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I've been thinking about a priest trying to "save" the reader from demon Bucky, only to fail miserably and gets forced to watch Bucky fuck the reader in his own church

Pairing: Demon Bucky x reader

Warnings: Smut, kinda public sex, exhibitionism, voyeurism Minors DNI.

Word count: less than 1.5 k (?)

A/N: Written on my phone while at work. Will edit later. Do not copy,rewrite, translate or repost my drabbles.

You're sitting in Father Roger's office wearing a demure white lace dress. The matching stockings go up to your thighs, held in place by a pair of wine red garters. Buckys favorites. He loves how innocent you appear when you dress like this.

Your eyes hover over the bookshelf to your left, it's filled with religious literature. Even more books are stacked on his desk. Various pens and crosses are scattered across the uneven piles of paperwork. The overhead light catches specks of dust that dance in the still air. The faint scent of damp wood seeps into your nose.

You eye a particularly pretty cross, your hand drawn to it. Touching the tapered edge, you giggle when you feel a spark sting your fingertips. Withdrawing your hand, you continue to study the room while you wait.

You hum under your breath, perking up when you hear footsteps approaching. Straightening up, you smooth down the front of your dress.

Father Rogers closes the door behind him with a heavy sigh. "I'm so glad you could make it today."

He steps into your line of vision. You give him an alluring grin, widening your eyes ever so slightly. "Of course Father," you say, keeping your voice soft.

Folding your hands on your lap, you blink up at him. Steve watches you closely as he takes his seat, his eyes hardening when he sees the finger shaped bruises decorating your neck.

"There have been rumors that you were seen at the old church and that you may have been engaging in--," he huffs, removing his glasses, he pinches the bridge of his nose. In all his years, he never thought he would be having this conversation.

You lean forward, placing your palms on his desk. "Yes Father."

"Excuse me." He says, his brows furrowing.

You get out of the chair, keeping your hands on the smooth wooden surface. "I did go to the church. I did call for Bucky. And those activities they're whispering about are all true." You smile proudly.

Steve exhales sharply. He tosses his glasses down and grabs your hands. "Child, do you know what you have done? It's not too late, I can help you. We can rid you of this demonic presence."

His impassioned rant fades when you tilt your head to the side. Your eyes drifting over his shoulder. You grin, rolling your bottom lip between your teeth. "You hear that baby. He can rid me of your demonic presence."

Steve gawks at you, carefully withdrawing his hands. The sweet scent of lilacs and vanilla fill the musty air. The lights flicker changing from the dull yellow glow to an unnatural red.

Steve turns his head, startling in his chair. He curses under his breath, his heart hammering painfully in his chest as Bucky emerges from the shadows.

"Mmm language Father," Bucky purrs, gliding across the room.

He stands behind you, pressing down on your back, forcing you into a perfect arch. "Tell me, Father, just how do you plan on getting rid of me."

Goosebumps prickles across your skin as his large hands push your dress up your thighs to your waist. He plucks the garter, the band snapping on your tender skin. You hiss, loving the delicious sting. Bucky palms your ass. You hear shifting and rustling behind you.

Steve raises his hand, starting to form a cross. Bucky laughs a beautiful musical tone that makes you shiver. You're still not used to that mesmerizing sound.

Steve flinches, clutching his ears. He gasps when his hands are pulled down. His seat moving across the floor, the wheels squeaking and rattling as he's pushed to the desk.

Bucky licks up the side of your neck. He grips your hips and pushes into your slick walls with one firm thrust. Pleasure blooms from your core as he stretches you. Fuck, you never feel a burn with him, just pure bliss. You drop to your elbow, moaning as you blatantly stare at an aghast Steve.

Bucky grunts, snapping his hips into yours. "I'm so deep in her. She's so fucking tight." He lifts your hips and you cry out his name.

"You hear that Father," Bucky asks, a smirk forming as Steve struggles against his invisible bonds. Bucky pulls you flush against his chest, each stroke of his cock pushing you to your tiptoes.

He places his hand over your mouth, muffling your moans. The salacious wet sloshing of your cunt echoing in the small room is vulgar and filthy and it makes you even wetter, your slick dripping around his cock.

"Sounds like she doesn't want to let me go." Bucky taunts, lifting your dress, exposing your swollen pussy. Steves's eyes darken, a hoarse grunt caught in his throat.

"Her sweet cunt keeps sucking me back in." He groans, fucking into you harder and faster. You're not listening, too focused on the pleasure burning through your veins.

His tail wraps around your belly, keeping you still. Buckys mouth drops to your ear. "You know, I bet the good father is hard right now, bet his cock is aching to feel your tight pussy wrapped around him."

He flicks his wrist, lifting Steve out of the chair. Your grin hidden by Bucky's rough palm, he's right. Steve can't hide his lust-blown pupils, he definitely can't hide his cock straining the thin fabric of his pants.

You can help the moan ripping through your chest. Buckys large body surrounding you, Steve's piercing eyes on you. It's so debauched but you love every second of it.

"Aw look at that," he darkly chuckles. Bucky pulls your dress down exposing your tits, his thumb teasing your pebbled nipple while his long dexterous fingers circle your clit. "He wants you, little one, but you belong to me."

"Yes, yes I'm yours, all yours Bucky," you pant.

He nips at your bruised throat, his hips slapping into you so fast you're getting dizzy. It's too much, you're so close, so fucking close.

"All mine. Let's show him how pretty you look when you cum."

Steve crashes to the floor, his head tilted back as the desk flies across the room. His gaze locked on your pussy. "Cum for him, little one, let him see why your pussy is better than salvation. " He says, his fingers spreading your folds so Steve can see his large, thick cock pushing into your sopping core.

You clench down with a cry. It's a visceral reaction, the knot unraveling in your cunt, your body tensing as you fall apart.

"Good girl." Bucky groans, his deep voice rumbling across your skin. " Don't you agree, Steve?"

A sly grin cuts across his face, his blue eyes flickering to a deep black. "She's a very good girl."

He stands, shedding his cloak. "Now it's my turn to ruin her sweet cunt."

*****

Part 1

𝒓𝒆𝒅𝒂𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒚 ✧ 𝒄𝒉 𝑽𝑰𝑰

pairing: charles brandon x duchess!reader

warnings: angst, brief mentions of mental illness, abusive behavior

word count: 2,7k

taglist: @runawayolives​ @kmuir1​ @marytudorbrandon​ @lharrietg​ @shittingdicknipple​ @alexa-fangirl-forever​ @mis-lil-red​ @amberangel112 @ohmygoodie @itmejado​ @radaofrivia​ @scarlets-widow​ @ragamuffin285​ @thereisa8ella​ @titty-teetee @dropletsofkaisoo @kebabgirl67​

a/n: the pictures of reader’s dresses are from the film sissi, but that doesn’t mean that the reader is white-skinned!

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Crucible - Ch 11

Pairing: Link x Reader

Prompt: For the Bittersweet Mini Bang!

Series Warnings (18+ only): Eventual smut, slow burn, violence, mild body horror, lots of whump, angst with a happy ending

Chapter Summary: The Champion is persistent in all things, even when you don’t want to be found.

AO3

You huddled on top of the glowing circle, legs curled to your chest and your arms wrapped tightly around them. The light bathed you with its faint glow, and it was soothing, even as your limbs shook, and your body trembled.

It was cold, you were wet, but mostly, you were just terrified. The prince and the Champion’s words repeated themselves over in your mind, and the memory of what you’d experienced in the beast was also on an endless cycle.

You could admit that you’d panicked and hadn’t thought this through. If you’d been smart you would have returned to your room, grabbed your bag, and fled from the city. As it was, you were wearing little more than a dressing gown, your feet bare, only cognizant enough to grab your nearby cloak before running from the room.

You tugged the hood further over your face. You didn’t know what to do now. Hope you could make it back to the stable and steal the horse? No, you wouldn’t know how to ride her, and you didn’t want to be responsible for another living being.

Wait for the Champion to leave without you? Perhaps he would be relieved you were gone, and he would no longer have to carry this burden. Yes, that was the most likely scenario. You could sneak back into the city at night, steal what you could since your belongings were a lost cause, and then leave.

There had been a large, beautiful painting in your room of the map of Hyrule. The Champion had been correct that there was so much more to the world than Tarrey Town, and as you’d gazed at the painting, you’d felt a deep desire to see it all. To travel the Gerudo Desert, climb the peaks of the Hebra Mountains, explore the Eldin Canyon, and wander the Great Hyrule Forest.

Perhaps this was your chance. And if you traveled alone, you wouldn’t have to be concerned with who or what you were. You could see the world and avoid the places where the people lived. Getting involved only brought you trouble.

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Secret House Keeper (Link x Reader) PART THREE

𝗔/𝗡: 𝗶𝘁'𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗳𝗶𝗻𝗮𝗹𝗲! 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗸𝘀 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗮𝗹𝗼𝗻𝗴 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗿𝗶𝗱𝗲!  𝗶 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝗵𝗼𝗽𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗴𝘂𝘆𝘀 𝗲𝗻𝗷𝗼𝘆𝗲𝗱!

𝘁𝗮𝗴𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁! @gummy-dummy​

𝗣𝗮𝗿𝘁: 𝗼𝗻𝗲 || 𝘁𝘄𝗼 || 𝘁𝗵𝗿𝗲𝗲

𝙒𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚? ⇒ 𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

L was short for Link. That’s what he told you as soon as he woke up to the smell of you dropping off a bowl of Gourmet Meat Stew on his dresser. 

So of course, you had to stay. 

When he collapsed in front of you all those days ago, you really didn’t know what to do. Admittedly, you probably wasted a few precious seconds as you freaked out over his unconscious, bleeding-out body. Thankfully for you, the sound of your family quickly approaching over the bridge leading to his house was enough for you to pull yourself together. 

Before anything could be done, however, He had to be stripped of his shield, his sword, and his bow. The bow was new- something you didn’t recognize. The sword was obviously something Hylian. A traditional model that you had seen many times yet you learned the name. The shield was another Hunter’s Shield. Decorated with holes and dents from where it was obviously used to block arrows, it looked like it was on its last leg. It was not that different from the one that hung up on his wall right now. You wonder if he had a similar upbringing as you did with your own Hunter’s shield. The thought made your heart heavy. 

Rolling him onto his back, your parents go to work. They dressed his wounds, making sure you understood all the steps they took. While that happened, you flitted around his house for a clean pair of clothes and rags to soak up all of the blood. It was a messy process- messier than cleaning his house has ever been- but you gritted your teeth and bore it. You had involved yourself in his life already. It would be a shame to just leave so suddenly. Especially when someone is in their darkest hour of need.

An hour later, his life was no longer in immediate danger. 

Your parents had patched him up and moved him to bed up the stairs. Your dad took the liberty of changing his clothes, swapping his now dyed blood-red Hylian Tunic for an old, three-quarter-sleeved shirt that you found buried in one of the trunks in his room. His current Hylian Trousers were traded for a new pair that you estimated to be too big for his surprisingly little frame. 

At the same time, you got straight to work scrubbing the floor when he collapsed while your mother left to start on a nice, big pot of Gourmet Meat Stew. The dark red stain was hard to get out of the hardwood floors. Your fingers were starting to ache, and your knuckles turned white as you tried to buff the blood out of the floor. But eventually, you triumphed. Slowly but surely, you got your progress. And luckily for you, you had just finished cleaning up the last of the tiny blood splatters on the wall nearby right as your mother returned, stew in hand. 

Your parents sat at the freshly cleaned table, their stews in their belly as they admired all the weapons and shields on display and spoke mutely about what had just occurred. Their own little whispers about what they thought happened. You didn’t hear any of it. Not one bit. 

Instead, you found yourself sitting on the side of his bed, stew left unattended as you dabbed at his glistening skin. A bowl of his own sat next to yours, but they were both growing cold. You were fine with eating the stew when it was lukewarm, but if he didn’t stir soon, you would probably have to fix him something else. Something that wouldn’t sit in his chest if the dish was too cold. Maybe a nice, warm Meat and Rice Bowl would be a good idea. You could slice any of the leftover meat that wasn’t used in the stew into thin strips. Paired with a bowl of fluffy rice, you’re sure he’ll be able to take it down smoothly. Besides, a dish like that would be easy to prepare quickly.

It came as no surprise to yourself that you had already decided on being the one to nurse him back to health. Getting him wrapped up and off the floor was the first challenge. Even now, as he laid underneath his covers, unconscious but alive, you knew he couldn’t be left alone. You were probably the only one in your family with enough free time to tend to such a wounded patient. Not to mention, not knowing what had happened to him scared you. Stranger or not, you weren’t exactly thrilled with the idea of putting him in someone else’s care. Especially when the very boy you wanted to meet almost had his life slip away in front of you.  

 And with that, his recovery was another item on your To-Do list. A more fragile, delicate item, but another item nonetheless. It’s the least you could do. For invading his home. Just to clean it. Unannounced…

Anyways-

The hours began to blur after that. You sat by his side for a long time, watching the sun disappear and the moon rises into the sky. Your parents left after speaking to each other for a little while, coming up to see you before they turned in for the night. You managed to convince your dad to bring you a blanket as well as the ingredients for the Meal and Rice bowl while they were cleaning your empty bowl and L’s untouched stew. You spent hours tending to him, watching for any sign of a problem- discomfort, infections, anything. Luckily, you were met with nothing but a relaxed face and quiet puffs of air passing from his lips. All was well. 

Eventually, he did stir.

It was late at night when he did, and you had already turned off all but one lamp in his house for the night. His eyes were barely open, and his eyelashes fluttered as he tried to focus his eyes. Soft noises erupted from his throat as made quick work of steaming your rice and cooking the leftover, now sliced meat. You realized he was barely lucid when you returned to his side. You thought that would be a problem at first considering how he couldn’t feed himself in such a state.

Thankfully, you came up with the idea of spoon-feeding him- an idea that surprisingly worked. All you had to do was prop him up a little against the headboard of his bed. A gentle prod of your spoon against his lips was enough for his brain to recognize what needed to happen, even while he was in such a fuzzy state. It was a slow, slow process of feeding him, and the silence was only broken by your murmured words of comfort and encouragement. You eventually got him to finish close to half of the rice bowl and the majority of the meat before he turned his head away and his eyes fluttered shut. Near-silent snores filled the air after that. He had gone to sleep.

This process continued for six more meals over the course of the next two days. You would spoon-feed him. The first four meals were still Meat and Rice bowls. Always freshly cooked. Always nice and hot from the kitchen. You would blow on it gently before feeding it to him, and he would slowly eat your cooking in the same daze from the day before. He was slowly eating more and more as each mealtime went by. During the last two meals, he started to become present enough to handle something a little different. Your father had started a fresh pot of Gourmet Beef Stew for lunch on the second day after L had collapsed so you decided to bring a bowl for him. You focused on feeding him the broth mostly and were able to feed him some of the smaller chunks of meat while slipping in some veggies here and there. 

You were able to do that one more time before he woke up. 

“W-where..?” His whisper was hoarse, yet it rang out in the early morning air. “W-what happen-”

His words cut off with a harsh cough as he sits up. You sucked in a sharp breath, surprised to see him up so suddenly, but you instantly rushed to his side. In seconds you were reaching for the pitcher of water you had sitting out on the bedside table and pouring him a glass of water. His cheeks flush as he struggles to gain his breath again while you spend a couple extra moments rubbing his back softly and balancing a glass of water in your free hand. 

Eventually, the coughs stop, and he accepts the glass of water from your hand. He drinks it greedily, downing the whole thing in seconds before letting his hands fall to his side. Silence settles between the two of you as you eye him carefully, watching for any problems. You had been at his side for so long- only leaving to wash up or let your father change his clothes, so he was allowed privacy. The first night you had slept at the foot of his bed, just in case he turned too suddenly and ended up hurting himself further. Every night after that, you slept minimal hours in your own bed at home. And you always made sure to rush back to L’s house, never wanting to leave him alone for long. You’d be damned if anything happened to him now. 

When he turns to you, you’re met with a beautiful sight. You had admired his features while he was asleep sure, but now that he was awake, you couldn’t help but stare in awe. His eyes were big, round, and a gorgeous shade of blue. They were like fresh water from a stream or a clear sky. His eyebrows were thick and full, and for some reason, you could just tell they were almost always furrowed. His nose was small but fit his face perfectly. Coupled that with his long, messy, dirty blonde hair and you couldn’t help but be impressed by how cute and boyish he looked.

Before you started cleaning his house, you had always caught glimpses of him from afar. Judging by how he lived alone and would always be outdoing Goddesses know what, you figured he’d be a lot older. But despite how young you thought he looked physically, you knew deep down his age didn’t change the fact that he must be a seasoned adventurer. A fighter, an explorer- perhaps even a soldier in his past life.

When he had collapsed in front of you, that was just a mere moment of weakness. The L in front of you now doesn’t have the same appearance as the L you’ve been nursing all this time. He looked guarded. Tense even, as if he was ready to run at the first sign of a predator. Those beautiful, round blue eyes of his didn’t carry the innocence that most people usually came to associate blue eyes with. They were not as soft as a babbling brook or as dainty as the summer sky at noon. They were hard. They were walled up. And they were looking at you as if you were a threat. Who knew that someone so young could look so old? So experienced? Despite looking close to your age, you have never met someone who seemed so un-

“-like me…” Your thought finishes itself out loud before you’re able to realize what happened. Despite the words coming out as a whisper, L’s eyes narrow at you. The look he gives you is intense. It feels angry, almost. It’s obvious that he heard you. And it’s even more obvious that you have to now pick up the pieces and explain yourself. “Um- I wanted to apologize for coming into your home uninvited! When you collapsed, I knew I couldn’t just leave you there so I-”

“You’re the housekeeper.” 

L’s voice is firm, yet gentle as he cuts you off. There’s no question mark that follows his words. It’s a statement. Pure and simple. He sounds confident and completely sure of himself. When you look in his eyes again, you realize that it’s not anger that you spotted. His gaze is still cloudy from recovery, and his eyes look like he’s deep in thought as he speaks to you. It’s as if he’s trying to recognize you from someplace. You doubt he’s in much of a position to do anything but rest, but you couldn’t help but ask:

“How did you know I was the ‘housekeeper’?”

It feels odd calling yourself that since there was no initial formal agreement between the two of you. Despite this, being called the housekeeper so casually helped you feel like he doesn’t see you as much as a threat. Hopefully, at least. 

“I saw you.” He states simply. When you blink at him owlishly, tilting your head in confusion, he starts by clearing his throat and explains himself further. “Before I- before I fell, I mean. I saw you cleaning. So, I figured…”

A red hue appears of L’s face as he trails off, eyes casting off to the side. You hold in your giggle at his sudden bashful behavior. The aged look of anger and experience doesn’t suit him as well as this childish pout of his. It’s a rather cute look on him. 

“Is that so? Well then, you really must be the infamous L, huh?” You hum, a small smile gracing your face. “I’m glad we were able to patch you up in time. I was really worried.”

“I’m sorry about all that. Normally, I’m not that careless…so thank you…” Link murmurs, scratching the back of his neck absently. Your heart aches with the thought of just how many times he had to patch himself up while he was close to death when suddenly, his eyes snap back to yours and you’re floored with just how alive he looked for a second. “And, you…you don’t have to call me L…if you don’t want to, of course. It was just my signature. My name is Link, actually…”

“Link?” You try the name out on your tongue. It flows out perfectly, and you recall it was once the name of a legendary Hero of Hyrule from a long, long time ago. It suits him, you think. It suits him perfectly. “…what a pretty name. It’s nice to finally meet you, Link.”

The second time you say his name, his body loses all of its tension. His shoulders relax, and his body deflates. A smile stretches across his lips as he looks at you, eyes half-hidden by his messy bangs. It’s a quiet, gentle smiler as his eyes scan your figure, burning your image into his head It’s full of comfort, and it makes you feel safe- trusting. It doesn’t fit the look of a boy who collects swords, bows, and shields. It doesn’t fit the look of a boy whose eyes hold so many stories of fights and battles and danger at every corner. And it surely doesn’t fit the look of a boy who had almost bled out in front of you. Yet he wears it anyway. 

And he wears it well.

“You know,” Link starts, and the second he captures your eyes, the smile on his face evolves into a grin you didn’t think was possible on your sweet little patient. “It’s even prettier when you say it…”

Maybe he wears it a little too well.