#Commission Agreement Forms | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kurooh · 6 months ago

Text

PROFESSIONAL ( AT LOVIN’ ) !

⊹₊˚. HAWKS’ BDAY 2024 — after six months of being his press agent’s friend with all kinds of benefits, keigo struggles to find a way to tell you that he can’t keep up his side of the agreement any longer. / or, his heart’s been in it since the very beginning.

word count: 14.3K (um….please read🧎‍♀️)

warnings: 18+ content — mdni, fem! reader, friends with benefits -> lovers, angst, unprotected sex, creampies, cunnilingus, drinking (everyone is mid twenties), dirty talk, squirting once, office sex.

xoxo, juno: happy LATE birthday to keigo <33 WOOO first fic of 2025 and it’s the longest one i’ve ever written.. inspired by the weeknd’s kissland! hope you enjoy, love you guys :,) 🩷

“this pussy of yours is pretty fuckin’ greedy, huh?”

“how could i not be when you always fuck me so g-good?” the filthy words rush out of your mouth in a surge of euphoria that has taken over your cognitive functions and renders you clinically cock drunk. in this state, things you’d normally never agree to are suddenly more alluring than a shiny trinket to a nesting bird. sex on the roof of the heroes’ safety commission is outlandish and obscene (you’d used those words when keigo had first brought it up in jest) — but here you are getting plowed by none other than the no. 2 hero of japan.

“aw, dovey,” keigo coos, gloved hand closing around the slope of your neck and tugging you back into his chest, “you’ve always got the best compliments, don’t ya?”

“ah, r-right there!” you gasp, eyes rolling back into your skull as your third orgasm of the half hour boils in your tummy like magma in an explosive volcano. “shit, kei, ‘m gonna cum again..”

“heh, go ahead ‘n let it out for me,” the heel of his other hand digs hard into the plush skin above your pubic bone and the crude slapping of skin against skin grows louder. “c’mon, baby, cum all over this cock. show me how good you feel, yeah?”

“yeah,” you whimper, desperately throwing your ass back onto his cock to get him even deeper, “oh my god, keigo, fuuuck—‘m cumming!”

it nearly sweeps you off your feet, the strength of your blissful orgasm leaving you shaking violently and clenching uncontrollably on keigo’s cock. his teeth sharply sink into his lower lip when he quickly pulls out of you, lamely stroking himself to completion above your ass and spraying strings of ivory onto your skin. your body is slick with sweat and now cum, but the messiness of the situation doesn’t hit you quite yet — you’re busy trying to catch your breath while he hangs his head lowly behind you.

keigo still holds you upright on legs of jelly, lightly beating his wings to help stabilize himself. watchful gold eyes sweep over your body, doing a once over and admiring every inch of you. he’s always considered you as the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen, and has always felt lucky to touch you — so why does he feel so damn unfulfilled? it’s probably a form of karma; keigo hasn’t ever had a consistent relationship, all due to his own actions. so many of his old girlfriends had clashed with him over his neglectful habits — his inability to give them time, attention, and effort. all of his relationships began positively, then quickly deteriorated into toxicity he’d grown tired of dealing with.

he’d been single for a year, and went without sex for longer. if he didn’t always have the press looming over his shoulder and scrutinizing each of his damn movements, he would’ve been able to get his dick wet sooner! keigo would certainly never admit it, but the total deprivation has been a good thing, allowing him to reset and understand why those relationships had completely gone downhill. at the time, he’d pettily blamed his girlfriend or the new guy she’d moved on with.

you let out a tired puff of breath and break away from his hold too soon just to look at your phone, which is sitting on top of keigo’s jacket. “so, my lunch break isn’t over just yet. we can hit the sandwich place around the block if you’re up for it?”

god, you’ve got that lazy smile playing on your lips like it always does after he’s made you cum. how is it possible for someone to look so elegant even as she buttons her blouse and wipes cum off her ass with a spare napkin? his brain literally short circuits when you hand him his jacket, plush lips shaping around a word. words. didn’t you just say something? maybe his post nut clarity has faded into obscurity, or he’s lost his hearing from how hard he just came.

“keigo,” you sigh, snapping your fingers in front of his face and briefly contemplating slapping him out of his stupor, “is the light on upstairs?”

a shiver jolts through him despite the fact that the weather’s warm, and his disassociated eyes finally hone in on you, standing right in front of him. “yeah, sorry. what’d you say earlier?”

you shrug on your suit jacket and slip into your heels. “i’m still free. we can grab sandwiches around the block if you’d like.”

so thoughtful. his heart swells happily at the prospect of eating lunch with you. it always does, usually accompanied with a flip in his stomach, whenever he tags along on something you’re doing, whether it’s eating lunch or sorting through lengthy documents after the office closes.

“sounds good. are we walking or flying, dovey?” your favorite sex petname rolls off his tongue naturally, and after months of this arrangement, you’ve stopped correcting him.

“let’s just walk,” you say decisively, wrapping the used napkin in another, “it attracts less press, showbird.”

☆ ☆

still thrumming with the sensations of sex, keigo walks into the restaurant behind you, piping up to place his order and then to swipe his card for the lunch. he dutifully waits at the table while you stand at the counter, glancing at your phone every now and then to alleviate the impatient boredom that accompanies most edible purchases. keigo allows himself a moment of respite, and instead of looking at his phone, he looks at you — particularly the way your clothes hug the slopes and curves of your body, much like he does when he’s coming down from an orgasm.

it was exactly eight months ago when keigo had first laid eyes on you. he knew right then and there that under no circumstances would he allow his old persona to shine through or mess things up between the two of you. for the first two months out of those eight, keigo had befriended you (with much encouragement from his friend mirko, bless her) and spent time getting to know you as a person over friendly lunches and the occasional drink. he’d committed each of your stories to memory and marked your birthday down on the calendar, something he’d never done for anyone else before. the beginning of everything was after one of those rare drinks that had landed you in keigo’s apartment and sitting criss-crossed on his bed, discussing your unlucky love life.

he’d listened with rapture as you pored over the freaks you’d met and gone out with in detail, mistakenly trusting your friends to set you up with someone nice on a blind date. in their defense, you’d drunkenly mumbled, it’s not their fault that there’s so many people catfishing. one inebriated conversation led to another, and you’d happened upon the fact that neither of you hadn’t had any good sex in a very long time. in the morning, you came into work late and sore all over, but also newly enlightened. for the past six months, you’ve successfully maintained a friends with benefits relationship with keigo takami, the no. 2 hero of japan.

“this one’s yours. here’s the receipt,” you push him a tightly wrapped sub sandwich and his tab.

he catches the sandwich after letting it spin on the table like an arrow on a game spinner, then crumples the receipt. “why don’t you believe me when i say i enjoy paying for you, hm?”

you sigh after a bite. “it makes me feel like a sugar baby . . but also, i can pay for myself.”

“so you’re either saying i’m old or rich,” keigo chuckles when you roll your eyes dramatically, “i know you can, but just let me spoil you, dovey.”

you knew it was a losing game the moment you brought it up, cheeks heating a little at the implication of his words. maybe being his baby isn’t that bad. conversation comes to a comfortable standstill as you both dig into your sandwiches, crumbs falling to the table and making a small mess. when you look up to pause and wipe your mouth, a laugh tumbles out before you can stop it.

“what?” keigo asks confusedly, holding his sandwich tightly and going so far as to swivel around backwards in hopes of pinpointing whatever made you laugh.

you wrap a napkin over your fingers and lean across the table. instinctually, keigo leans in for a kiss, only to be a little more than heartbroken when you swerve to the side and dodge it to instead dab at a streak of mustard across his chin. the sudden intimacy and close proximity cause the apples of his cheeks to turn rosy in embarrassment. “did you just lead me on?” he asks when he notices you giggling at him again, voice taking on a playful and petty tone. “because it totally feels like you did that on purpose.”

“no, keigo,” a wide smile spreads across your face at his usual antics, “you were the one eating so quickly you got mustard all over your face! someone had to clean you up.”

in an instant, his voice drops an octave, becoming low and sultry. “you keep talking like that and i’ll clean you up.”

“i— we’re in public!” you exclaim, a dull ache pulsing between your legs at the thought of him using his tongue on you.

he shrugs noncommittally, feeling triumphant now that he’s briefly flustered you. “public or not, you know you love it. now eat your sandwich.”

“way ahead of you,” heat floods your cheeks as you pick up the sandwich, feeling dirty because of the slick pooling into your underwear. keigo doesn’t understand how easy it is to get you worked up, whether it’s with his words or the mischievous footsie he keeps playing under the table with you. “if i come across a headline about this conversation, i’m gonna kill you.”

☆ ☆

“late night?” keigo hums, shattering your concentration on the current task. startled and disheveled, you glance up just in time to catch his typical smirk. his gold eyes shamelessly rake up and down your body as if he’s spotted something he wants—no, needs—to claim. however, his raunchy ogling comes to a screeching halt when he hones in on the shadowy dark circles beneath your eyes.

“the latest,” you blow out a peeved breath through pursed lips, doing your utmost to avoid looking out the window. it’s completely dark outside, the sky an inky blanket of night and stars over the city. “i’m fucking swamped.”

it comes out bitterly, and keigo cautiously steps forward, wings twitching nervously behind him. that well-groomed mess of vermilion feathers at his back seems to have a mind of its own, constantly betraying their owner by displaying his emotions so openly.

“what, you coming to rescue me?” absentmindedly, you swish around your empty coffee mug. not a single drop flies over the edge, the porcelain totally dry as if it was never used.

“c’monnnn, you know i’m always up to rescue you,” he teases playfully, gently tugging the mug out of your grip and setting a reassuring palm down on your hunched shoulders. “i’ll get us some coffee and help you out when i get back.”

“i highly doubt that you’re qualified to deal with PR work, keigo.” a small though rascally smile plays on your lips, corners flicking up as your sour demeanor starts to mellow out.

he sticks out his tongue and steps out of your office, heading to the kitchen. as his feet quietly pad along the hard carpet, he considers your recent behavior — last week you were fucking around on the roof and then getting sandwiches like it was nobody’s business. keigo was seeing you around the office and outside of it, but the time he’d been spending with you had decreased dramatically over the past few days. the coordinated lunch breaks and escapades were no more, and keigo’s been caught up wondering why. now, the reason for this couldn’t be linked to anything he did or said — still, it’s impossible for him not to overthink.

“god, you’re a lifesaver!” you groan joyously as keigo sets down a full mug of coffee in front of you and away from your laptop and notepad. “thank you for this.”

“slow down, you haven’t even seen the things i can do outside of making coffee.”

you rotate your laptop once he finally takes a seat in front of you, insistently pointing a finger at the various tasks on your metaphorical plate. “if i give you some work, you’ll have to do a lot of proofreading.”

keigo nods, and his eyebrows suddenly pull downwards in a mix of playful confusion and surprise. “wait, is that a virtual shrine dedicated to me?”

“what?” you mutter, squinting your eyes as you frantically look over the computer screen to no avail. “oh, shut up. just start reading while i finish up the rest.”

there’s a pause and a beat of silence as you both settle into your respective assignments.

then, “i actually came to the office because i missed you a little.”

“you what?” you laugh increduously, licking a finger to aid you in flipping through paperclipped pages. his eyes follow you, from the moment your tongue darts out to wet your skin and then flicks through pages you skim to find what you’re looking for.

“well, i haven’t seen you outside of work in a while,” keigo sniffs, tearing his eyes away from you and refocusing on the words on the screen. at the risk of sounding too vulnerable, he throws in something disgustingly horny to save himself. “was just wondering about my fuck buddy.”

fuck. he’s really cringing now, throat instinctually closing up once he feels waves of nausea crashing over him. but you don’t even bat an eye, too busy setting papers aside in different stacks and barely paying attention to him. “oh, yeah. i’m sorry, it’s just that a ton of people have been dumping so much work on me.”

“so that’s why i’m reading a drafted article enshrining endeavor as number one?” he grins, briefly catching your eyes. you’re not quite sure if it’s the exhaustion finally catching up or something else, but your stomach flutters when you automatically meet his gaze. loose papers drift to the floor, falling right past you.

“yep, that’s why,” you laugh nervously, snatching up the papers so forcefully that they crumple in your grasp. keigo’s always so damn charming, and it affects you more now that you’re so tired. right?

“you want some dinner, dovey?” the affectionate pet name lingers in your mind, echoing loudly until it finally fades into a memory from a while ago. the transition of his affectionate voice into one choked with unadulterated pleasure is seamless, leaving you breathless in an instant. a glance at his wings has you sloppily picturing them fanned out above you and frantically beating the air as keigo ruts his hips into yours . . god, what’s gotten into you? he certainly could.

“i want you,” it slips out before you can stop it or even control it, words laced with a silent desperation only he can detect. “uh, i mean—”

“bold words,” a wolf whistle trills out into the air, reminding you that you’ve now started something you won’t be getting out of easily. “sure you can handle what you’re askin’ for, baby?”

“don’t act like i haven’t countless times before,” you retort, voice a little weaker than you’d like. it’s frustrating, the influence he has over your body — he hasn’t even said anything meaningful and yet heat’s surging to your cheeks while a shiver of excitement ripples through you.

“riiiight. aren’t you the one always saying you can’t handle it? ‘oh, keigo, please! i can’t, i—’”

the endless teasing is just too much — it makes your blood boil, gets your pulse racing, and absolutely does what it was intended to do. your full mug of coffee tips off the edge of the table and spills when you slam the laptop shut, leaping forward to rapidly close the distance between you two. your lips, slightly sticky with coffee, crash onto keigo’s hard, causing your foreheads to knock together too.

it’s a palpable invitation, one that he eagerly accepts without hesitation. his strong hands settle firmly on your hips in an attempt to stop their slight tremble, fingertips pressing into the curve of your waist. he pulls you into his lap and you fall into sync with one another just like always: keigo slips his tongue into your mouth while you tug at his blonde curls. impatience curated by time apart and characterized by frustration has the air in the room sparking with white hot electricity that’s strong enough to cause a power outage — you’re so close to finally scratching that unbearable itch, at least until it comes back tomorrow with much more ferocity.

keigo draws back with a knowing smile, lips curling up. “we should stop, dovey.”

a thin, glossy string of saliva connects your lips to his. you’ve got this desperate, needy look written all over your face, which crumples petulantly as you consider the possibility of being left unsatisfied. something purely horny twists in his chest, alongside his still yearning heart — keigo fucking loves being in control, being the only one who can give you the satisfaction that you so desperately need, but the thought of being something more resurfaces in his mind again.

it always comes to him at the worst times: right now, during a sexual moment, or before he falls asleep and when he opens his eyes to daylight in the morning. it’s eating him up inside, and he’s already too far in to stop — or is he? no, he isn’t! not if he finds a way to extricate himself from the suffocating casualness of this mess and advance whatever’s left into a real relationship, one that’s abundant in love and adoration. the evolution of the relationship hinges on the timing of his love confession, so he’ll definitely plan to wait until you’re not holed up in the office and on his lap looking like you’re about to shed tears.

“i c-can’t,” you gasp breathlessly, heart pounding in your ears, “kei, please— i need you so badly, i’ve been waiting so damn long.”

and who is he to deny you, when you’re begging so beautifully?

“so you missed me?” keigo murmurs, pressing kisses to the column of your throat and savoring the way you softly gasp. this is his moment. he’s going to slyly frame a question for you, and when you answer it correctly, he’ll spring his confession onto you and then give you what you’ve been dying for.

“god, yes,” a moan rushes out from between your lips, head tipping back to give him easier access. with his nose pressed into your skin, keigo blissfully inhales the faint wisps of your favorite perfume. eight months later and you’re still wearing that scent daily, ever since he complimented you the day he met you. “you know i did, keigo.”

“what’d you miss the most?” he smirks between open mouthed kisses, guiding you straight to the answer with his warm hands that slip under your shirt and languidly caress the small of your back.

“your cock, t-the way you fuck me,” you groan, unintentionally shattering his plan into pieces; but he doesn’t let it show, chuckling into your neck as he rapidly snatches them up and off the floor. it’s okay, he’s okay. all he has to do is ask a few more questions and offer up some multiple choice answers — in doing so, he’ll have a chance to tell you how he really feels.

“mmmm, is that all?”

your eyebrows furrow in confusion and you tug him back by the hair, scrutinizing him with eyes clouded by lust and nothing else. a carnation colored flush sits high on his cheekbones, and his adam’s apple bobs as he swallows down a pesky i love you. not now, not here — this isn’t the right moment.

“keigo, why are you questioning me like my boss does?” he blinks, averting his eyes to your glossy neck, shining with his saliva in the dim light. it smells like coffee now, and he’s wondering if it’ll ever get cleaned up, dark liquid overflowing and soaking through the carpet, straight into the floor. he doesn’t want to be like the coffee, forgotten about and lingering in the air since it had fallen off the desk without you having caught it.

keigo knows you — he always has, and it’s too easy to pick up on the unmistakable tension twisted in your question, along with undertones of discomfort and deflection. automatically, he slips back into his typical persona, lips curling into an impish smile while he waggles his eyebrows to emphasize his words. “heh, you’re so impatient. can you blame me for wanting to build things up?”

you visibly relax, plush mouth forming into a pout he wants to kiss away. “i think there’s been plenty of build up. don’t tease me again.”

“yes ma’am,” he replies coolly, lifting his hands into the air in a show of submission. you release his hair and he pulls you into his chest, holding you tightly as he stands up from the chair. it rolls away into a corner, plastic backing hitting the wall with a soft thud just as keigo slams you down on the desk, papers flying every which way.

“keigo, hah, you haven’t even gotten me naked yet,” you sigh, heat rushing to your face as he sinks to his knees on the hard carpet, his eyes never leaving yours. dexterous, impatient fingers find the clasp of your pants, and he drags them down your legs, along with your sticky panties.

“i know,” keigo breathes, pulling your thighs over his shoulders and pulling your hips close to his face, “and yet, you’re already fucking soaked for me. aren’t you, baby?”

“yeah, i am,” you whimper, feeling your cunt clench around nothing when he rewards you by spitting onto your clit. “all for you, kei.”

“you’re so cute.”

you really are, all spread out on the desk, pretty and pliant just for him. there’s not a shred of resistance when he manuvers you closer or teases his fingertips around your quivering hole, ignoring your strained cries for more. dark pupils enlarge against gold irises, and keigo’s wings flutter eagerly as his arousal crashes over him in continuous, steady waves of heat. now that he’s between your legs and focused on his favorite late night snack, the scent of the coffee dissipates along with his thoughts.

“keigo,” you keen, fingers threading through his tousled curls, “please, just—oh god, stop fuckin’ teasing me.”

a sportive smack! lands on the side of your bare ass, kicking up a few papers when you jolt forward in surprise. “easy, baby. easy,” there’s a low, warning pitch in his voice, and you settle down frustratedly, gnawing on your lower lip. keigo’s never been one to rush when it comes to eating your pussy, even during quickies—you’d be more aggravated if he didn’t always make you cum so damn hard. his face is flushed pink and shining with eagerness as he pushes two fingers inside you, fixated on the way they slide in so easily.

he experimentally curls them, and a lick of heat washes over his whole body when he watches your face crumple, head tipping back weakly while you tug at his hair. the blond curls are soft between your fingers, giving you something to grab onto when you need to steady yourself.

“fuckkk,” keigo groans, attaching his rosy lips to your clit and lightly sucking at the swollen, sensitive bud. clumsily, you grind your hips against his mouth, body sweltering as the small office fills with the impolite smacks of his lips and wet squelches of your sloppy cunt. “loosen up for me, baby, you’re too tight.”

a trembly breath leaves your lips as you obediently readjust for him, spreading your legs and trying to relax so he can tug his fingers back. for a moment, he pauses to appreciatively look over his glossy, creamy fingers—he sticks them into his mouth, moaning and squeezing his eyes shut as he puts on a show of swirling his tongue around them like some kind of slut. once he opens his eyes, those piercing gold hues meet your own and he plunges them back inside, making you whimper.

“listen to me, dovey,” keigo murmurs, breath fanning over your wet clit, “i want you cumming hard on my fingers in the next thirty seconds.”

“but—oh,” your voice cracks when he deeply curls his fingers, purposefully interrupting you, “what if it’s not enough? i don’t think i can—”

sharp, pearly teeth lightly graze your clit and make you mewl noisily, the action both a warning and a reward. “yes, you can, dovey,” he utters in a hushed voice, “c’mon, show me you’re a big girl. i’ll be counting for ya.”

with that, keigo dives back in, furiously licking your clit while he roughly curls his fingers into that sweet, spongy spot inside you. it’s probably not serious, but something in your stomach flutters at the thought of disobeying him—if he wants you to cum, you’ll do just that. your hips rock into his tongue, developing a messy rhythm that could possibly rival his own when he’s inside you—he smirks against you, clearly pleased with himself. papers lift into the air, swirling around in a flurry of white as if they’re caught up in a tornado. the source of the miniature storm is his wings, uncontrollably flapping about as he determinedly licks at your clit like a lollipop.

twenty five. a thin sheen of sweat shines on your forehead, making the skin tacky. absentmindedly, you wonder if it could be possible for him to cum in his pants just from eating you out. he certainly enjoys it enough — whenever he says he’s feeling thirsty or hungry, he’ll end up eating you out for so long you pass out by your seventh orgasm.

twenty. keigo’s absorbed in the smell, sight, and taste of you. nothing’s better than watching you fall apart on him, dewy tears in your eyes as you fight back overstimulation or impatience. but this is new: he’s never demanded you to cum after setting a time limit in place. it occurs to him now that he didn’t think far enough ahead to answer the question you’ll probably end up asking afterwards, something along the lines of ‘what would’ve happened if i didn’t cum?’ . .

fifteen. with your eyes rolling back into your head as your hips lurch off the desk, a bit of drool pours down your chin. covered in a mixture of sweat, spit, and slick, you’re at a loss for words as keigo’s damn tongue rolls over your clit again and again. perhaps you’re too dazed, but you swear you feel him etch the letters of his name into you with the tip of his tongue.

ten. keigo’s pussydrunk, soaking his boxers with precum as he pushes you closer and closer to the edge. his eyes are dark with lust, and the rosy skin of his cheeks and chin is smeared with that sticky wetness he just can’t get enough of. all of your muscles pull taut like a bowstring, and you sob out his name, pushing his face into you as euphoria hits you from every direction and all at once.

“kei, oh my god, ‘m gonna fucking cum,” within seconds of your frantic gasps, you abruptly gush on his fingers, hard enough to push them out of you — cum squirts from your cunt, getting onto his face when he curiously leans in to lick it away.

you don’t get a second to come down from your high because keigo roughly licks you through it as if he’s severely dehydrated. “mmmph!” you squeal, hips immediately pulling away from him like he’s given you an electric shock. “wai—wait, keigo, it’s way too much!”

he relents, rolling his eyes as if he doesn’t believe you. “fine, fiiiiine. you win this one, dovey.”

“pants off.”

he quirks an eyebrow but starts to undo his belt, letting it fall to the floor with a soft bang. “you’re so fucking greedy, i swear.”

you throw him a glare, wiping sweat off of your forehead as you sit up, slowly hopping off of the desk.

papers fall all around you, quietly crinkling as they hit the floor and surround the desk in a sloppy circle. your lips press into a thin line as you take the sight in, mildly exasperated by the mess you’ll force him to clean up. “on the desk, keigo. tuck your wings in too.”

he laughs in disbelief, used to calling the shots when it comes to sex, “so demanding, baby.”

you fix him with a serious look, crossing your arms over your chest while papers ride the dying currents of air made by his wings. keigo clears his throat and folds his wings close to his back, “yes ma’am.”

his flushed cock is rock hard, bobbing as he settles onto the desk; it’s fraught with veins and beautifully curved to one side, something you’re endlessly thankful for when he’s inside you. above him, you’re dripping wet and ready to take him deep — keigo shudders when you grip the base of his cock, carefully balancing yourself on the desk so that you can easily sit down on it.

“holy—oh, shit,” he curses, abs clenching beneath his clothing as he forces himself to keep his hips down. if you want to take control, he’ll give it to you — anything you could ever want is immediately yours. bleary gold eyes clear up and hone in on where you’re connected; your pussy swallows his cock whole like it’s nothing, leaving him breathless.

you swallow, gnawing at your lower lip, “i’ve fucking missed this, kei. been s-so long.”

memories from your most favorite escapades rush back to you so quickly your head spins, momentarily distracting you from the task at hand. there’s a beat of silence before keigo grips your hips, fingers digging into your skin as he borderline begs you, “baby, c’mon, fuck me already.”

“don’t tell me what to do,” you breathe, placing your hands in the center of his chest to hold yourself up, “you don’t get to do that right now, keigo.”

“god, you’re gonna kill me.”

maybe you won’t, but your hips will — they start to move until you’re bouncing roughly on his cock, letting his tip bully itself against your cervix. it’s the kind of kiss that only the two of you can understand, filled with affection and an hungry obsession for more.

for what seems to be the hundredth time, this mahogany desk is christened with more sex. skin claps against skin, filling the room with the same applause that echoes in a theater after a successful show; the whole building is empty, and it’s only your window that’s flooded with fluorescent light in the otherwise dark night.

“dovey,” keigo moans, voice cracking on the familiar pet name, “if you keep going like this, i’m—i’m not gonna last much longer.”

you don’t answer, eyes squeezing shut against the burn of exhaustion setting into your muscles. handsy as always, he grabs at your tits, pulling you further on top of him and taking a hardened nipple into his mouth.

the sharp edges of his pearly teeth drag against your skin as he sucks, golden eyes shutting once he hears your whiny moans grow louder. you’re fluid and all too smooth, riding his cock into oblivion while working in these little humps against his pelvis that don’t disturb the rhythm you’ve built up. your clit drags across his skin deliciously—shit, it’s possible that you could cum together.

“haah, baby,” keigo trembles beneath you, wings spreading out and quivering against his will. “i’m so damn close, i want—” it nearly sounds too intimate, but he ignores the voice in the back of his mind and focuses on his impending orgasm that’s fighting its way out of him. “shit, i just want you to cum with me.”

sensitivity creeps up your spine and makes your body ripple with a shudder, “r-rub my clit ‘n i will, kei.”

everything happens so damn fast; it doesn’t take long for your body to respond to his frenetic touch, and you completely fall apart on his cock, triggering his own high. while your cunt desperately grips him like a vice, he’s shooting endless ropes of cum deep against your cervix. ultimately, it was pointless for him to fold up his wings — they’ve fought against him like usual, strewing more papers around the room and knocking objects off of your desk.

“d-don’t move just yet,” he wheezes, holding your hips in place the moment you try to retreat, “just stay here for a second, dovey.”

a mixture of slick and cum is smeared in the wispy beige hair that adorns his pelvis, and he looks at you pleadingly, cheeks a blotchy pink. it’s cute, but not nearly convincing enough for you to stay much longer than half a minute. “c’mon, i’ve got some stuff to finish up.”

begrudgingly, keigo lets you go and winces as you pull off of his cock. it flops lamely against his stomach, cum dribbling down the sides and adding to the creamy ring around the base. he sighs, unsurprised by your eagerness to depart — his thighs are cooling now that you’re no longer sitting on top of them.

“that was good,” you say, voice layered with praise as you stand on the tips of your toes and peck an appreciative kiss to his cheek, “let’s get started on sorting papers, shall we?”

you’re already across the room before he can grab your waist and show you what a real kiss feels like, slipping through his fingers like fine grains of sand each and every time.

☆ ☆

rules are the stitches in the seams of anything, always there to hold things tightly in place. it’s natural to break a few every now and then, but what if there are some that should be broken? perhaps they tend to hold things back rather than securely in place.

“okinawa’s just beautiful,” keigo says wistfully, reminiscing about white sand beaches and the bird’s eye view of colorful tourist umbrellas dotting the shoreline from above. there’s a small glitch in his memories that adds you to the scene in a bikini, sunbathing on a towel while he convinces you to come swim in the water with him. he hears himself say something impulsive, but he doesn’t regret it. “maybe we can go on a trip there together. i’ll fly us.”

you stir your drink with a straw, watching the alcohol whirl around ice. “ah, i think we should build up to that, keigo. you’re forgetting that i’ve never flown around that far with you before.”

“we could always change that,” he replies, voice suave. “nighttime is the best time to fly.”

“someday i might just take you up on it,” a laugh spills out of your mouth after a gulp of sweetened tequila, and keigo’s face softens. one of the things he loves most about you is the fact that you’re not afraid to be yourself around him, never once hiding a smile or laugh. “anyway, is there anywhere you haven’t traveled?”

“hmm, let me think,” he raises his fingers to his chin and ponders momentarily, although the answer had come to him the moment you’d started to ask the question. “well, there’s your house.”

you shake your head, nudging his wrist with your own. “noooo, i’m talking about other countries and cities. haven’t you flown out of japan?”

“only to okinawa,” he supplies, wings twitching anxiously. whenever he brings up your home in the city or worse, him going to it, you always clam up or push him away. granted, it was a boundary line you’d marked in the sand when you’d gotten into this reciprocal relationship all those months ago. escapades have taken place everywhere but your home—he could count on one hand the amount of times he’d mentioned doing it at your place, only to end up on a random rooftop or in an empty alleyway. ever the quick learner, keigo learned not to bring it up. but now, when he’s considering all the variables involved when it comes to confessing to you, he can’t help but feel that it’s necessary to see your house at least once.

sweat rolls down his spine and he unconsciously tugs at his fitted shirt, feeling the heatwaves brought on from both the liquor and the crowded atmosphere of the bar. there’s so many people walking behind the two of you, so much noise, so many bodies all in one space — he feels a little trapped.

“i’ve never been,” you say, derailing his train of thought as you drain your third drink of the night and then flag down the bartender for another. “it’s supposed to be a great vacation spot, though.”

he wipes away the sweat from his forehead with his arm and finishes his drink before nodding your way, wings fidgeting behind him. “it really is, dovey. you wanna take off after another drink or two?”

two glasses slide on the counter, the sides dripping with condensation and cold to the touch. it’s nice to feel in his hands, and he feels his nerves calming after a few long sips. “sounds good,” you answer, feeling hot yourself. the edges of everything in the room seem to blur, thanks to the halos circling the dim bar lights. “you might have to carry me out of here, though.”

“oh, i don’t mind,” keigo answers with a smirk that you can hear in his voice before looking up at him, “but only if you promise you’ll hold on tightly.”

“yes, keigo,” you drawl, scooting your barstool a few inches closer to him. he follows your shameless eyes, tracing your weighted stare to the small gold chain around his neck. it makes a tinkling sound when keigo loops a finger beneath it, hazy eyes meeting your own.

“can’t stop staring, can you?”

you automatically roll your eyes and look away, although your heart starts to race with anticipation. it should be an innocent question, but keigo’s words roll off his tongue in a way that is loaded with his unique charm and flirtatiousness. in a matter of seconds, you’re overthinking the question and the certain innuendo behind it; your breaths come in shallow pants that are just barely audible, and a finger slips beneath your chin to tip your head up.

keigo leans in, lips barely grazing the shell of your ear. “gettin’ all worked up and i haven’t even touched you? that’s a first for you, baby.”

just stop it, you think, yet you’re unable to turn away. damn, he’s got you right where he wants you, and he knows it — keigo shoots you a knowing smile when he notices your thighs unconsciously squeeze together. it’s so hot in this bar, and it only grows hotter in his presence; an uncontrollable shiver races up your spine and you shakily reach for your drink. “stop it, kei.”

your words are shaky, and his wings twitch triumphantly behind him, feathers slightly puffing up. the dewy glass slips right out of your hand and splashes all over your blouse, sticky tequila soaking all the way through to your bra and dampening your chest. keigo stifles a snicker and plucks the glass out of your lap, a little bit of liquid still sloshing around inside it.

“that—that was your fault,” you drop a loose ice cube into the remains of your drink and glare at him angrily as he dabs a handful of napkins against your chest, unabashedly looking over the shrinking fabric. now that it’s all wet, it clings to every inch of your chest and emphasizes the outline of your tits.

“oh, but i wasn’t holding the drink,” keigo clicks his tongue and sends you a wink, sweat shining on his forehead.

“someone has to foot the bill,” you grouse, sourly blaming him for your now stained blouse and sticky chest. then, it hits you—neither of you are drunk enough to leave the bar. after flagging down the bartender and requesting six shots, you look at keigo competitively. “listen up. whoever finishes the shots first wins and doesn’t have to pay.”

“really, a drinking challenge?” keigo grumbles, knowing you have a better chance of winning. normally, he wouldn’t mind paying for you, but you’ve challenged him and might risk covering the bill you’ve both racked up. his head is fuzzy, but one thought is clear: he won’t let you.

“yes, really,” you shoot back, nose crinkling at the smell of the liquor all on its own in the shot glasses. it’s not sweet and there’s no chaser, but you’re determined to fight your gag reflex as it goes down. “ready?”

“i’m ready,” keigo sighs, lifting a shot glass.

it ends faster than the alcohol was poured. you’re proud to have won, and keigo doesn’t let on the fact that he assisted you. despite the liquid fire burning your throat, you’re happy—too happy; this is the most drunk that keigo has ever seen you, and he’s in the same boat as you, looking for the oars.

he nearly forgets his card when he struggles to his feet and walks out of the bar with you, right into the not-so-dark nighttime of the city. all of the streetlights are fuzzy and the sounds of racing cars are muffled; this is a different area of the city and it takes a moment for you to register where you are in relation to keigo’s apartment.

“dovey,” he says, cheeks flushed a bright red, “do you wanna go to my place?”

strong, possessive hands find your waist and pull you close, pressing your damp chest against his. those gold eyes of his search your face carefully, as if he’s taking in your features and committing them to memory or looking for something he’s intent on finding.

your hand settles on his cheek and you pull him forward for a kiss on the busy street, not caring about who sees or writes about it. you’re in your own world, thinking of nothing but keigo and his plush, yearning mouth—he’s got the sense to pull away before it goes further, vaguely gesturing for you to turn around. when you oblige, he wraps his arms around you and under your own, holding you securely against his chest.

“i’ll treat you to a little night flight.”

vermilion wings beat the air powerfully, kicking up dust and litter along the sidewalk as keigo lifts you off the ground and into the sky. you’re shocked and speechless as you look over the city from above, thousands of buildings endlessly illuminated with light and color from the entertainment district. “it’s beautiful up here,” you breathe, feeling a little less drunk now that chill air washes over your face and cools you down. “why didn’t you invite me up here sooner?”

keigo laughs, riding on the wind and becoming one with it. “i did, you just never took me up on it. as to why, i don’t know.”

everything’s so much clearer from up here. the view is impeccable, and the air is fresh, free of the different scents of the city — exhaust fumes, restaurants, cigarettes, the occasional incense store. you’re shivering, a little too cold from the breeze blowing through your damp blouse, but being pressed against keigo’s warm chest makes it more bearable. something prods at the back of your drunken mind, a thought you’ve pushed away each time it arrives.

keigo thinks he’s slick. he thinks you don’t notice his lingering gazes, the odd way he tries to snuggle up to you every time you finish having sex, or the acute tenderness written all over his face every now and then when he’s talking to you.

but you do. you notice it, each and every time—in fact, you know exactly what all of this behavior stems from, but you choose to ignore it. clearly, keigo is in love with you. it’s evident in his actions and body language, yet he hasn’t actually said anything. it’s so damn easy to notice and understand because you feel the same, you’re just better at hiding it. something about the idea of a relationship with the no. 2 pro hero of japan is daunting — not only because you’re his agent or you’ll constantly have to face the public, but because there’s a possibility that transitioning into something more from being friends with benefits may be too dramatic of a change.

“oh, fuck,” keigo groans, getting lost in the myriad of lights and buildings below. he doesn’t know where the hell his apartment is and isn’t sure if he has the time to fly around for a half hour looking for it.

“what’s wrong?” you ask worriedly, suddenly aware of the fact that your legs are dangling in the air. in order to preserve his pride and sensitive ego, you don’t bring up anything about him dropping you, but your body tenses.

“it’s the shots,” he grouses, speaking quickly, “they’re gonna come back up.”

“where’s your apartment?”

“i don’t know,” keigo answers, and now you can hear him starting to gag as he forces the contents of his stomach back down. “i can’t keep flying around much longer . . sorry to cut this little flight short, baby.”

“it’s okay, just don’t get sick,” you reassure him slowly, trying to pinpoint your own apartment. surprisingly, the building is a minute or two away from you, if he flies fast enough. “keigo, we’ll head to my place. see that dark building right there, near the red billboard?”

he nods, and the waves of nausea evaporate instantly. after months, he’s finally going to see your apartment—he’s now leagues closer to successfully confessing his feelings to you. keigo’s heavy wings slice through the sky as he hurdles toward your apartment; while the speed is steady, the course is not. from below, people watch as something wobbles through the sky, shifting awkwardly from side to side in a way that isn’t at all graceful . . or intimidating.

you assume he really has to throw up, when it’s quite the opposite. “k-keigo, see that balcony with the potted plants? there’s only one pot of flowers.”

“is that yours?” he asks, struggling to control how giddy he is. “i see it.”

☆ ☆

with the solid, familiar ground of the balcony beneath your feet, things around you are a little steadier. still, the alcohol buzzes persistently in your head and makes you giggle over nothing. it’s warmer now that you’re out of the sky, standing close to keigo and surrounded by all of your potted plants. a pleasant tingling sensation courses through your limbs as your body wobbles, adjusting to being out of the air and the new thoughts that rush into your head.

everything’s still a little fuzzy at the edges, a reminder of your tipsiness and disorientation. keigo wraps a supportive arm around your waist when you nearly stumble to the ground, quietly giggling at your own actions and sighing contentedly in his grip. there’s a beat of silence as your body meshes into his, the kind that settles between two people who’ve just shared a long day, and it feels so natural that your mind absently drifts to two pairs of shoes beside one another and two cups of coffee in the mornings—perhaps you didn’t notice the routine you’ve slipped into, one so innate that it makes everything else feel a little less important.

“hey, did i mention how sexy you are when you’re drunk, dovey?” keigo hiccups, wings quivering as he leans on you for some support, struggling to balance just like you are. his knuckles nudge into your side gently, grin widening as if he’s waiting for a reaction from you. the playful edge to his voice falters momentarily, and you exhale through your nose, shaking your head in disbelief.

“ugh, you must’ve had much more than i thought,” you laugh, kicking the doormat up and retrieving the brass key from beneath it to unlock the door. it’s dark out here on the porch and the same inside, leading you to awkwardly jam the key into the lock.

“you always blow me off,” he sighs ruefully, smile dropping as he notices you using the key upside down. “what, do i embarrass you or something?”

“i-it’s not that,” you breathe, tensing the moment his chest presses against your back and his hand envelops yours to help you with the key. goosebumps rise on the tender flesh of your arms first, then all over your chest, beneath your damp blouse. you recover once the lock gives, sliding the heavy glass door open and catching your breath. “kei, you’ve always got something to say to me.”

“you, of all people, have the power to shut me up whenever you want,” keigo teases, following you into your quaint apartment. instead of appreciating the moment, his mind races to find an answer to the million-dollar question: why were you so intent on keeping him out of here? even in total darkness, the place is cozy, shelves adorned with knickknacks and décor that suits you. totally lost in concentration, keigo’s wings bristle and he accidentally knocks something off a shelf, but manages to catch it in his hand. you’re in the middle of saying something, but he doesn’t even notice, his eyes completely lighting up at the sight of the object.

“is this that glass bird i gave you all those months ago?”

a nervous laugh rushes past your lips and you nod, hand falling away from the light switch. “yeah, i thought it looked nice up there. it’s pretty.”

“wow, baby,” he gingerly puts the figurine back in its place, elated by the possible significance that this little glass bird holds. “if i’d known you liked it that much, i would’ve showered you in gifts.”

in the middle of unbuttoning your blouse, you trip over your own foot, and keigo, ever the hero, catches you as gently as he did the figurine. his fingers splay across your bare side and you blink up at him, faced with another small gap that’s dying to be closed. “i know what i want as a gift,” you utter, voice low and sultry. the words seem to hang in the air like more of a promise than a request.

keigo can smell the liquor on your breath and the temptation that accompanies it—without a second thought, his lips are on yours and he’s pushing forward with alcohol buzzing in his veins. he’s so full of hope, believing the best over what he’s considered a sign of something more; it feels so right to kiss you like this, with his hands spanning your bare waist and tugging gently at your waistband. it doesn’t quite occur to him that he is inebriated and therefore may not be thinking as sharply as he would if he were sober in this situation.

you shove forward, pushing him hard into a wall and nipping at his lips hungrily. despite being a little bothered by him being in your apartment, you can’t say you’re not interested in fucking on your own bed for once. a shaky gasp leaves you when you pull away for breath, stomach fluttering delightedly at the hardness of his cock pressing into your thigh.

his breath hitches in his throat, hazy mind racing a thousand miles an hour. the question leaves his lips with more urgency than intended. “i—shit, you really want me to take you right here?”

“in the hallway?” you laugh, astonished. “i’d much prefer my bed, it’s easier for you to fuck me as hard as you want.”

desire and lust conducts your actions, has you dropping your blouse to the floor and unclasping your bra next. each article of clothing falls to the floor in a heap, forming a trail leading to the bedroom door. keigo follows your lead, wings jittering with anticipation as he crosses the threshold. billowy curtains blow up and around the window, lifted by the night breeze, and your room is dark, the details barely visible: keigo notices the many pillows on your bed (so that’s why you were on his ass about buying more than just one) and the full length mirror off to the side.

keigo stops to glance at his reflection in the mirror, fraught with the sculpted curves of muscle—each line a testament to years of hard work and dedication. dark hickeys litter his tanned skin, all left behind from the heat of many moments. momentarily, his eyes shift from the glass to you, perched on the bed and waiting for him. his fingers subconsciously graze over one of the marks, just as he recalls one of your rules, a line that had been drawn in the sand early on—no marks, nowhere near your neck or anywhere at all, even if people couldn’t see them.

it’s a curious little thing, isn’t it? you clearly have no qualms about marking up his body, but you never let him give you some in return—he hasn’t voiced it, not yet. he exhales softly, feeling the ache between his legs flare once you call his name expectantly. it’s like a switch flips, causing his mind to sharpen and his pulse to quicken when he steps toward you.

bathed in opalescent moonlight, you sit back against your makeshift throne of pillows, eyes raking over him shamelessly, as if you’re looking for something else to sink your teeth into. vermilion feathers puff up and shake themselves out as the bed dips beneath his weight. “come here,” he beckons you lowly, with every intention of making you his. “you’re mine, aren’t you?”

now mussed with abundant wrinkles, the bedspread shifts beneath your bodies as keigo slots himself on top of you and hastily kisses down your neck, lightly nipping at the tender skin, just enough to elicit soft moans from you. doubt melts into desire, lacing his ministrations with something more urgent. for six months, keigo has never seen or left a single mark on you, and tonight, that’s about to change—you’ve already broken the biggest rule you had by bringing him to your apartment, so how much further could this go?

“yeah, ‘m all yours,” you whine, back arching off the bed when he bites at the soft skin of your tits, tongue lapping away the sticky tequila you spilled earlier. it’s so different—he can’t believe he went this long without making any objections.

things are heating up fast, and that haziness from the liquor creeps up on both of you, blurring your thoughts just enough. his hips chase yours into the bed, and he eagerly grinds his hardened cock against your thighs, all over them. your voice cracks slightly when you try to moan his name, impatient as always. but keigo decides to take his time with you, kissing and biting longer than usual—he’s in no rush, not yet.

it’s intoxicating in every way possible, causing your body to swelter and thrash beneath his own. keigo’s moving fast, delighting in your pleasure and drinking in every reaction unapologetically. fuck, to think you’d denied him and yourself for so long—he should make it up to you somehow, shouldn’t he?

“dovey,” he pants, fingers slipping under the fabric of the panties appreciatively, “you wore my favorites?”

crimson fabric adorns your waistline, threaded with soft lace. for lingerie, it’s pretty comfortable: it doesn’t floss your asshole like a thong or g-string does, something you’d told keigo when you tried it on in the dressing room. he knew he’d be buying it the moment you stepped out with a bright smile on your face. seeing it on you now is surreal, and he nearly creams his boxers at the sight of it, wings conveying his thoughts for him through a tremble.

your hips rise up and off the bed so he can pull away the last bit of fabric that covers your body. “yeah, but it doesn’t matter now,” you titter cheekily, shockwaves of arousal shooting straight between your thighs.

unceremoniously, your legs are thrown open and keigo’s wings flutter in amusement, always the first thing to react to whatever you have to say. “it matters to them,” keigo comments, jerking a thumb back to point at his pesky wings, “fair warning, this place might be a mess by the end of this.”

“so long as you help me deal with it tomorrow, i don’t mind,” your fingers swipe his cooling spit off your chest, and you’re a little startled as you press at a fresh hickey. it’s sticky, skin now sensitive and tingling in a way that’s just right.

fierce as always, keigo doesn’t waste any time diving between your legs, eager to fuck but even more so to eat your pussy. glistening strings of slick stick to the tender skin of your inner thighs, connecting them to each other thinly until he licks it away. “mmm, dovey,” he moans adoringly, and your pulse quickens, “taste so goddamn sweet.”

keigo’s a proud pussy eater, the filthiest and best you’ve ever met. he could be gasping for air with his face covered in your cum and yet, he’d still have something utterly nasty to say. unapologetically nose deep, he slurps loudly at your soaking cunt and pins your antsy legs down over his shoulders.

“ngh, keigo,” you thrash forward, thighs squeezing his head like a vice while your hips uncontrollably buck into his face. “please don’t stop, don’t fucking stop—”

“keep squirming around like that and i will,” he grunts, one hand pressing you down into the bed while the other pushes between your thighs. those tenacious gold eyes of his are hooded now, gleaming rapturously as he devours everything you have to give him like he’s been starving. loud, sloppy slurps soon fill the room, falling into cadence with your whiny moans; scarlet feathers ruffle in response to his most favorite sounds, and his hips rut carelessly into the mattress, desperately seeking friction.

your head falls back into the downy pillows, jaw dropping slackly as you unsteadily sneak a hand down to your clit, fingers seeking to rub a lustful itch away. keigo’s fingers wrap around your wrist and snatch it away from your pussy, instead guiding your hand to his head in a show of acquiescence.

“don’t go doing that,” he groans, pulling up for air and pressing a thumb to your swollen clit hard enough to make your eyes roll back into your skull, “use your words instead, dovey.”

you weakly nod his way, and a sudden, swift slap is delivered right to your clit, the force behind it causing you to see stars. a twisted yelp tears from your throat, and you’re doe eyed when you tearfully glance down at him, chest rising and falling rapidly.

“gotta work on using your words, baby,” keigo coos, thumbing away a stray tear from your cheek. “jus’ trying to make you understand that i need you to tell me what you want.”

there’s a dark edge to his voice that makes the apologetic tone he’s taken on seem ingenuine, almost a little mocking. and yet, you let out a sweet moan, leaning into his touch with a hushed, “yeah, kei. i understand.”

still reeling from the tingling impact of the pussy slap, you guide his head back down between your legs and unsteadily grind into his mouth. he greedily drinks you in, smacking his lips like he can’t get enough of your honeyed taste, and unconsciously pulling you closer. his fingers rub tight circles into your throbbing clit, occasionally pinching the bud to elicit a scream or two before letting go.

keigo had always been taught not to play with his food—but when she’s quaking against his face and sobbing out his name over and over, he just can’t help himself. he’s had a perpetual mean streak that he’s only ever unleashed during sex with you, taking an overwhelming satisfaction in fucking you dumb and then teasing you about it. he notices the way your thighs tense at either side of his head, the way your head falls back whenever he tenses his tongue.

your clammy fingers claw through blonde curls, saccharine moans spilling from your lips with each ravenous push of his tongue through your folds. it’s a push and pull rhythm that is nothing less than addictive, dragging out the air from your lungs and leaving you utterly breathless.

“g-god, keigo,” you keen loudly, shoving him down without any regard for his ability to breathe, “need you to—i need you to fuck me with your tongue.”

he groans in response, shamelessly humping the bed now that the ache between his legs has become too prominent to ignore. it flares dangerously every time you say his name or look at him with that blissed out expression written all over your face . . fuck, now you’re telling him exactly what you want and pushing him around, something he’s always enjoyed. his tongue slips into your awaiting cunt and pushes deep, tasting even more of you once he finds that puffy, spongy spot inside of you that makes you clench up every damn time.

your breaths come in rushed, frantic gasps that soften each word. “fuuuck, right there—yeah, t-that’s it,” your voice shakes involuntarily, tight with inevitable euphoria. “kei, you’re gonna make me cum, hah—‘m real close, don’t stop, don’t stop.”

you chant those last words religiously, and keigo’s offended that you’re thinking he’d ever want to. “on my fuckin’ tongue,” he half groans, half begs, not sure if you even hear him at all.

keigo doesn’t dare to stop until you finally come undone on his tongue, shuddering uncontrollably as he licks you through your high, nearly passing out from a severe lack of oxygen. you’ve got him in a beautiful leglock that he regrets breaking out of, but seeing the dazed, drunken look on your face when he comes up erases the thought from his mind. the entire half of his lower face is covered in your cum, and heat floods your face when his pink tongue darts out to clean up his lips, all while holding your lidded gaze.

a few sanguine feathers float around your face, falling from the air like snowflakes and lightly settling on the bed like rose petals. it seems to make the moment warmer, more romantic as if this is your first time with him—in hindsight, it would’ve been nicer to christen the relationship with a bed of rose petals and scented candles scattered around the room. instead, it was something that happened fast and right after conversations about ex partners.

you pout at him as he positions himself on top of you once again, pressing a wet kiss to your mouth. instinctively, you lick away the mixture of spit and slick he leaves on your lips, tasting yourself on your tongue momentarily. it’s bittersweet and a little syrupy . . maybe he really isn’t lying about you tasting like candy. your thoughts fade away when you catch a glimpse of his vibrant wings — you’ve always seen them, but not like this. this time, you’re up close to them, so close you can see the downy barbs and delicate vanes of each individual feather.

“are your wings . . sensitive?” you ask curiously, voice carrying the barest note of reverence as your hand tentatively inches over his shoulder. after each and every covert tryst of yours, you’ve seen keigo smooth out the feathers or greet you in the morning with stimulating news of his freshly scrubbed wings. but this—touching them—feels like crossing an unspoken threshold.

keigo doesn’t answer, his breath catching in his throat. he’d been in the middle of dazedly tugging his boxers down his body when you’d just dropped a miniature bomb on him. this is the first time that he’s been this astonished, features mellowing profoundly. soon, he finds his voice and uses it, words intertwined with an unexpected tenderness: “ . . it’s alright. they’re just a little sensitive, heh. nobody’s ever touched them before.”

as if they understand you’re talking about them, his wings shift toward your fingers, obviously inviting you to touch them. this is certainly new — for the first time, his defiant wings are actually yearning to be touched, even though they get a little choosy when it’s him who’s brushing his hands through the feathers. gingerly, you reach forward and your hand disappears into the mussed feathers, fingertips brushing lightly against the sensitive skin beneath. the apex of his wings is abundant with small, downy feathers that quiver at your touch.

his eyelids flutter shut and he emits a shy moan, swallowing a sudden heart-shaped lump in his throat. courage swells in your chest and you push further, awed by the all-encompassing softness that meets your fingers. you’d expected them to be coarse, rough from years of flying and smelling earthy or musky. the faint scent of mango wafts through the air, stirring up a sense of familiarity and comfort in your chest, reminding you of all the times he’d protectively wrap his wings around your body as if to steady you.

“they feel so nice,” you murmur, feeling his cock throb against your thigh. it draws you back into the moment, where you’re naked beneath him with anticipatory legs sprawled open. “so . . soft.”

keigo’s buzzing when you experimentally stroke your fingers through the thin feathers, an intimate form of worship that is only understood between the two of you. “you, ah, didn’t expect them to be?”

a wind created by his flapping wings kick up your curtains and make the metal rings clatter on the bar they’re hanging on. “i thought they’d be a little rougher,” you purr, voice smooth and sultry as your legs lift, locking tightly around his waist. his v-line is visibly sharp and hard to the touch like cut marble against the pillowy skin of your thighs, muscles flexing as he guides his cock to your soaked pussy.

“i’ll show you rough, dovey,” keigo huffs, smearing his cock with your slick and pulling your legs away from his sides. he’s going to fuck you up, and he can’t do it properly in this position—your feet are thrown haphazardly over his shoulders, thighs folded tightly against your chest. he’s painfully hard, leaking sticky precum all over and trembling by the time he pushes the tip of his cock between your folds. your response is immediate; an eager moan slips out of your mouth, hips bucking impatiently onto his cock.

“damn, baby,” his chest heaves tirelessly, skin flushed pink and covered in a thin sheen of sweat, “you’re ready f’me, aren’t you?”

you look up at him with dewy eyes, electricity shooting through your every nerve. “i-if i was made for—ah—anything, it was taking your cock.”

god, you can’t just say shit like that and cluelessly think he won’t actually fall in love with you—he was only asking for a simple ‘yes’, but now he’s got hearts in his eyes as he finally pushes inside you, swallowing down the sudden urge to blow his load this fast. pulsating, gummy walls wrap around him and seem to suck him deeper without him even moving; he weakly presses his head into your shoulder, gasping frantically as he tries to adjust to the grip you’ve got on him.

“f-fuckkk,” he stutters out, regaining his cool composure after a moment despite the room feeling like a sauna, “i’m gonna hold you to that, you better not forget it.”

he’s relentless, going from zero to sixty in a second with no thoughts of slowing down — he’s jackhammering his hips, curved cock ramming right into your sweet spot and french kissing your cervix. you’re dripping wet, slick pouring down your ass and making each thrust slip ‘n slide all the more smoothly; the bed creaks ceaselessly beneath the weight of your bodies, groaning so loudly it occurs to you that it might just break. but that isn’t even a problem, not with keigo, who’d drop a ton of money on something you could just express the slightest bit of interest in.

“h-holy fuck, keigo,” you gasp out, back arching off the bed, “i could—oh my god, i could cum just from this.”

“yeah, dovey?” he grins, voice tight as he quite literally plunges deeper into heaven. “jus’ from my cock?”

sweat beads on your forehead, making your body swelter with endless steam that seems to vaporize any inhibitions you still had after all the drinks. “nghh, w-wait, ‘m gonna cum—”

“wait?” keigo practically barks out a laugh, shaking his head ruefully at you, “there’s no waiting. i want you to cum right on my cock ‘n i’ll fuck you through it, dovey.”

you nod with mascara infused tears streaming down your face, legs quaking uncontrollably. everything seems to happen at once — a twinge of pain takes root in the backs of your thighs just as the built-up tension inside you snaps into thousands of sparks, finally igniting your long awaited orgasm.

keigo forces himself to keep his eyes open despite the fact that he’s risking an early orgasm, balls clenching at the sight of you: your lips form an o shape as euphoria washes over you, making your body quiver frenetically. he swallows dryly, closely rocking his hips against yours so you don’t push him out.

“kei,” is the first thing you sob out when you recover, struggling to catch your breath with every thrust fucking the air out of your lungs. you’re sensitive all over, skin prickling with heat that doesn’t cool even with his wings creating a draft.

he’s straining tight at the seams, heart pounding in his ears as he thinks of nothing but you.

you, you, you.

with your sweet, glossy-lipped smile in the mornings and the voice of a vixen when you innocently call his name. you’re nothing less than beautiful beneath him, clawing at his shoulders and staring up at him with those glazed over, blissed out eyes while your body molds against his. it’s a shape he knows well, one he’s pictured in his head when he’s all alone, one he’s been dreaming about whenever his eyes close.

his breath catches in his throat. “haah, fuck—dovey, i can’t hold it anymore.”

“right fuckin’ there,” your voice cracks into a squeal, “mhm, jus’ cum inside me.”

“you mean it?” keigo asks dumbly, nearly melting at the wild look you throw him in response.

“yeah, kei—shit, ‘m gonna cum again,” the words rush past your lips, urgent as ever and spurring him on to keep going, “i want you to—i need you to fill me up.”

something sweet flashes behind his gold eyes and he tucks his face into your shoulder, breath coming in frantic pants while he gasps your name. you’re practically in your own world, moaning loudly and dragging his slim hips closer to your own. when his cock starts to twitch deep inside you, the heel of your palm digs into his lower back, forcing his tip right against your cervix. he’s burning hot, utterly lost in you with no way of finding his way out — cum spurts from his cock and the spasms wrack his body, each stripping away a layer of him until he’s left with only his heart in his hands.

“i fucking love you,” it rushes out and he doesn’t regret it for a second, “god, baby. i love you so much.”

your eyes roll back as your body surrenders to the toe-curling sensation of your third orgasm of the night, euphoria hitting you from all directions and rendering you clinically cock drunk. you muster just enough strength to wipe the salty tears away from your eyes, teeth chattering just the slightest bit as you drag in a gasping breath.

after a moment, you yawn, stretching out your folded body and nudging at his chest to get him to lay down beside you. “ooh, that was great, kei. there’s no fucking way i’m walking tomorrow.”

coming down is the hardest part.

keigo’s shaken to his core by your flippant response to his confession, but most of all, he’s deeply embarrassed to have said something—no, to have thought something this stupid. finally, he’s getting a taste of karma from all of his failed relationships; he wishes that he could allow himself enough pity to ask the abyss of the universe what he did to deserve this. the heat that had once been sexy dissipates immediately, leaving him as cold as a corpse. he rolls over to the side, letting go of you and staring up at the ceiling, laying on top of wings that don’t even have enough life to twitch. pathetic tears prick at the corners of his marked eyes, and for the first time, he’s happy that the lights are off.

“keigo? did you hear me?”

“sorry, i didn’t. what was it you were saying?” he drags a forearm across his sweaty forehead, overlooking the tender inflection in your voice.

“i just . . i don’t know. that was really good,” he may not hear it, but you do. quickly, you clear your throat and tug up the blankets, inviting him to crawl underneath with you. “goodnight, kei.”

he should bite his tongue, but he doesn’t; this is the last time. “goodnight, dovey.”

☆ ☆

after tossing and turning the whole night, keigo finally decides to end the torture at 5:20 am the next morning. it’s still dark out, and he figures that he can easily slip away under the cover of night. he’s got a mild hangover, but it won’t impair him, not when he’s determined to keep it together until he gets back home.

soberly, he absorbs his surroundings and recalls the memories that have been plaguing him for hours. his body tenses, thick cords of muscle pulling taut as if he’s bracing against the impact of a punch, and like it has countless times before, the scene replays in his head again. his emotional, devoted admission of love was something you’d completely ignored—again and again, you’ve only ever shown an interest in his body.

in his chest, he feels his heart clench horribly as he looks over your sleeping form. you’re curled up in yourself under the warm blankets, turned toward him with a serene look on your face that makes it all the more difficult to slip out from under the sheets and into the cold. like a cat, he silently pads into the hallway and collects his clothes as if he was never there. he’s inches away from the back door he’d been so excited to step through last night when he stops in his tracks, head hanging lowly as pangs of guilt hit him like fists. it’s not right to just leave you like this, not without making an effort to say some kind of goodbye.

keigo hesitates in the hallway, feet seemingly glued to the floor. all he can hear are loud alarm bells—every instinct is begging him to leave, to spare himself the imminent heartbreak of going back in that room to see you. against his better judgment, he eventually tiptoes into your room with every intention of giving you one final kiss. at your bedside, he bends forward and presses his lips to your forehead; the kiss is entirely chaste, the brief touch carrying a blend of quiet grief and the tenderness of a love that was bound to fall through.

like most things in his life, this kiss doesn’t go as planned. there’s a momentary flash of blue and white—he’s managed to give you a strong, accidental static shock with an innocent kiss at 5:22 in the morning. you blearily wake up, squinting up at him in confusion and making out the high collar of his hero jacket.

“good morning, keigo,” you stretch under the blankets and reach for his hand, “what—what time is it?”

“it’s early,” he answers unsurely, sitting down on the foot of the bed. his wings droop, vermilion plumes seemingly inanimate. “y’know what, don’t worry about it. go back to sleep, baby.”

“but where’re you going?” you sit up abruptly, eyes narrowing at his fully clothed body. a glance over the edge of the bed reveals that he’s even got his boots on!

“i’ve got patrol, silly,” keigo picks the easiest excuse out of an array of choices, and you sniff it out immediately. “i’m a hero, remember?” silence hangs in the air for a moment before you slowly speak up, sounding more confused than anything else. “but saturdays and sundays are your off days.”

keigo pauses, tongue sliding over his teeth as he contemplates what to say now that he’s been caught in his lie. like an idiot, he’s managed to trap himself. you scoff, cognitive functions coming to back to life as the final vestiges of sleep fade away into the ruined morning. did he actually expect you to wake up naked and hungover, all by yourself?

“okay, you caught me. i’ve got some stuff to deal with.”

“this early? c’mon, why’re you in such a rush?”

ultimately, it’s best for the both of you if he pulls away.

keigo’s usual smile drops and he sighs, “i’ve got shit to do, okay?”

it’s this early in the morning, and your blood pressure is already spiking in a way that is most undesirable. “are you fucking kidding me, keigo?”

the way you say his name so angrily, so accusingly—it fucking irks him, causing the corners of his lips to pull downwards into a scowl. he’s not really angry at you, he’s angry at himself for causing this dilemma to begin with, but you don’t know that. how could you really know anything about him aside from the way he likes to fuck?

“why are you getting so damn pissy? i’m going to leave whether you want me to or not, okay?”

stark naked, you exit the safety of the bed and make a beeline to your dresser, where you yank open drawers in search of clothes. keigo stands, watching longingly as you pull on some panties and a bra.

“i’m getting pissy because you wanted to take off so i could wake up naked and alone! you didn’t even say goodbye.”

“i was trying to,” keigo argues back, jumping to his feet, “but you were the one who ruined that for yourself, didn’t you?”

“a kiss isn’t enough!” you snap, now covered in a loose t shirt and pajama shorts. “couldn’t you have just waited a few hours? maybe then you could’ve told me why you were leaving.”

“what the hell? so you’re saying i need a reason to go back to my own house?”

“i don’t see why you think you can lie to me!” your voice raises furiously, words sharp as daggers, “i’m not just your agent, keigo. i know you, i care about you! don’t you get that?”

it’s quickly evolved into a dangerous game of catch, the pressure to be the one to drop the ball growing heavier atop his shoulders with each passing moment. painfully, a vein in his forehead pulses from the headache brought on by the hangover and the memories that follow it. it’s been hours and he can’t seem to shake away the pain that gnaws away at him. he’s so stupid.

“yeah, i know you are,” keigo grits out bitterly, “all i wanted to do was leave.”

“so abruptly?” you press him for answers, flicking on a small lamp so you can see him clearly. deep wrinkles span the entirety of each article of clothing that hangs on his body, but it’s the dark circles under his bloodshot eyes that makes him look unusually sloppy, getting you to pause as you take the sight of him in. concerned for his wellbeing, you soften, body relaxing. “what—keigo, what’s wrong?”

“it’s just the hangover,” he squints defensively, backing away and into a corner, “anyway, you got your goodbye, didn’t you?”

your gentle, worried face falls away. it hurts more than any injury he’s ever gotten, but he has to keep the walls up to protect himself from the pain even though guilt slips in through the cracks like mustard gas. with a pinched sigh, keigo backs away from the wall, wings limply hanging behind him as he prepares to exit your bedroom with no intention of ever coming back.

he’s blindsiding you, lying to you out of nowhere and slipping through your fingers like steam, too elusive for his own good. without a second thought, you close the distance and grab firmly at his wrist, a gesture that would’ve worked once. “i can’t do this anymore,” he mutters without looking over his shoulder, snatching away from you as if he’s been burned. “i just . . i can’t.”

“what’re you—what do you mean, keigo?” he looks out into the distance of the hallway, focusing on a specific floor tile and tracing its grooves so he doesn’t have to see your face. just from your voice, he knows you must be absolutely crushed. for courage, he allows himself a steady inhale before stepping past the threshold and leaving you in the lurch.

“this,” keigo turns, gesturing wildly and spitting out the words as if everything that’s happened in this room is horribly filthy, “it’s bullshit, all of it. i’m done, got that?”

there’s a beat of silence, and keigo stays a second too long.

“keigo, you’re breaking my heart here.”

you’re probably referring to the sex, aren’t you? surely you’re disappointed by the fact that you’ll no longer be fucking the no. 2 hero, petting his wings and calling him by a name few are able to.

“oh, come on,” he looks over you sourly, shaking his head as his eyes span the entirety of your body, “you’re pretty. you’ll find yourself a new fuck buddy, it’s not that big of a deal.”

immediately, he regrets saying it, feeling a rush of nausea in his stomach—he doesn’t want you with anyone else.

you blink back tears, his stare suddenly invasive and hurtful. “i don’t want a new fuck buddy, i want you.”

“tough shit,” keigo grunts, wings drooping further down. the longest feathers now drag along the floor, picking up whatever there is to offer. “i’m done being friends with benefits.”

“i just—all this fucking time, i’ve been wasting my time wanting to be with you,” the words tumble out of you bitterly, filling up the space between you with everything you’ve ever wanted to say, and his ears prick, grasping at a possible implication beneath all of it, “god, to think i was afraid we wouldn’t be able to become something more—all of this was a mistake.”

keigo pauses, heart pounding in his ears and possibly affecting his ability to hear. “you’re . . in love with me?”

“i was,” the correction is swift and choked, reverberating straight to his core and making his body stiffen. it hurts more than anything to hear, carrying a horrible weight, the kind that makes him realize you’ve given up on him.

“then why didn’t you—that doesn’t make any sense,” he gasps, the newfound information hitting him like a freight train, “if you were in love with me, why didn’t you—how couldn’t you have said something?”

“what’re you talking about?” you hiss, harshly rubbing away the tears in your eyes with the back of your hand. keigo’s bewildered now, face devoid of anything but shock and some kind of adoration as he seems to process something inside his head.

he stares at you desperately, struggling for the right words, “fuck, dovey, why didn’t you say anything last night?”

“don’t call me that,” you snap, the petname far too fond for a moment like this one, “why would i possibly have said something last night?”

keigo falters, and his voice cracks as the words rush out like a torrent. “i told you that i—god, i fucking told you i loved you. didn’t you hear me?”

oh.

his heart squeezes painfully in his chest when the realization washes over your face, making him realize the gravity of this misunderstanding—you didn’t hear him.

wearily, you take a seat on the edge of the bed. he sees the way your spine curves forward, and bites down hard on his lower lip once the first sob slips out of you. in an instant, keigo’s beside you and pulling you into his arms, shaking all over. he doesn’t know what to say, but his voice breaks with endless regret when he finally comes up with something. “i’m sorry, god, i’m so sorry,” tears race down his cheeks and into your hair as he murmurs despairingly, “i thought you didn’t care, i didn’t know—”

there’s nothing more to say.

keigo tries anyway, brokenly whispering apologies that fade into the air like smoke. his arms are tight around your body, holding you closely — it’s an unspoken promise to never let you go again. for the very first time, he truly melts into you without the walls in the way or the burden of hidden feelings. when you slowly relax against him and your sobs become quieter, something shifts in the air. vermilion wings, once held down by the weight of everything they’ve been carrying, finally come back to life. wings that have had no other purpose but to protect keigo now extend outwards to protect you too, soft feathers cradling you tenderly in the quiet of the morning. just over the horizon, the sun begins to rise, bathing the city in the light of dawn and new beginnings.

2K notes · View notes

noirscript · 3 months ago

Text

the price of legacy

pairing: yandere teacher x reader description: William Harrington, the sweet kindergarten teacher everyone adored, became the husband you never truly chose — and now, he dreams of children you never asked for. In his eyes, you're already perfect; in his arms, there’s no room left to say no. warning/s: yandere | noncon | dubcon | breeding kink | emotional manipulation | coercion | psychological entrapment | smut note: apologies for the inactivity. currently working on sovereign's reign. hope you enjoy this one! oh, and the sale on dark roast ends on the 30th. grab it while it's still on sale ^^ WILL ADD TAGS AND TAGLIST LATER! Made this on mobile and I'm sleepy (T△T)

Masterlist | DARK ROAST ON SALE | Commission | Tip Jar

William Harrington always knew what he wanted, and it was always you.

The house was quiet when he came home, the faint scent of chalk dust and lavender clinging to him like it always did after work. The door clicked shut behind him, locking you both in with a soft finality. His smile was the first thing you noticed — wide, eager, almost frantic in its affection. It twisted something low in your gut, but you still forced your own mouth into a pale version of his grin.

"Love," he said, dropping his worn satchel by the door, already crossing the room with a kind of boyish energy that didn't quite fit the situation. "You wouldn't believe how precious they were today."

Before you could respond, he had you wrapped tightly in his arms, the press of him too much, too fast. His chest was warm through the fabric of his shirt, his heartbeat hammering against you like he had run the whole way home just to get here. You managed a weak noise — something that could pass for acknowledgment — but he was already charging ahead, his words tumbling out unchecked.

"Little Amelia drew me a picture," he said, pulling away just enough to dig into his pocket. He smoothed out a crumpled sheet of paper, the messy lines and crooked letters forming a child’s rough idea of a person. ‘Mr. H’, it read. His eyes were bright, almost fevered, as he pressed it into your hands like it was something priceless. "She said I was her favorite," he added, his voice dropping into something shy, as if confessing a secret. Like a boy. Like someone still playing pretend.

You stared down at the scribbles, your mind dragging you back to the memory you couldn't seem to escape: the quick ceremony under a heavy sky, the cloying scent of lilies filling your nose until you could hardly breathe, the feel of his hand never leaving the small of your back — not in comfort, but as a claim. You remembered standing there, your mouth dry, your head swimming. You hadn't said yes. Not really. You just hadn't said no fast enough.

"And I kept thinking," he said now, voice dropping lower as he slid to his knees in front of you, his hands smoothing up your sides, slow and deliberate. His palms came to rest against your stomach, lingering there with a kind of desperate tenderness. "I kept thinking how soon it'll be our little ones I'm bragging about."

You stiffened, instinctively. His forehead pressed against your shirt, his fingers tracing gentle, possessive circles over your still-flat belly. To him, your silence was agreement. It always was.

"I can't wait, love," he whispered, rough and reverent. "I can't wait to see them toddling around... giggling... calling you Mommy." His mouth brushed over your shirt, a soft, claiming kiss. "They'll be beautiful. Just like you."

You blinked hard, the burn at the corners of your eyes sharp and sudden. Sadness, panic, dread — it all churned together until you couldn't tell where one feeling ended and another began. You had tried to tell him once. That you weren't ready. That you needed time. That you weren't even sure this marriage — this life — was something you wanted. But he never heard anything except what he wanted to.

In his mind, you were already perfect. Already his wife. Already the mother of children who didn’t exist yet. Just a few more months, a few more tries, and he would have everything he dreamed of. Whether you wanted it or not.

"You'll be such a good mother," he said, beaming up at you, utterly blind — or willfully ignoring — the way your hands trembled at your sides. "I just know it."

You smiled because you had to, because any other reaction would only invite more of his careful, suffocating concern. His hands slid down to your hips, holding you with the same gentle reverence someone might use to cradle a glass figurine. You weren’t sure how much longer you could take it — this slow, smiling entrapment he called love.

Because there were no locks that could keep him out anymore. No distance far enough. No safe word strong enough to break the fantasy he'd wrapped you into.

His breath warmed your shirt, slow and rhythmic, and when he looked up at you again, there was something burning in his gaze — something desperate, something too big and wild to name. He smiled, all teeth and certainty.

"Let's try again tonight," he said, his voice a low rumble that wrapped around you, heavy and inescapable. His hands slid lower, gripping your thighs just a little too tightly. "I can feel it, love. This time..." His smile stretched wider, sharper. "This time it'll happen."

You opened your mouth — you wanted to say no. You wanted to tell him to stop, to wait, to listen — but the words turned to dust on your tongue. He was already kissing your stomach again, his fingers tugging at the hem of your shirt with slow, aching persistence.

"You were made for this," he whispered, inching lower, tasting your skin through the thin fabric.

The room seemed to shrink around you, the air thick and sweet with the faint smell of flowers — fresh blooms he had bought, bright and cheerful, as if good intentions could mask everything else. Baby name books sat piled on the desk. Plans scribbled in notebooks. Dreams you had no part in building now growing like vines around your life, wrapping tighter by the day.

You stumbled back when he pulled you toward the bed, but he caught you easily, steering you down onto the mattress you barely recognized anymore. The linens smelled like him. Everything did.

He was over you instantly, stripping you bare with careful, greedy hands. His mouth was everywhere, pressing kisses that felt more like marks, claiming you piece by piece.

"You're perfect," he groaned, settling between your legs with a practiced ease that made your stomach twist. His body was hot and heavy, his cock dragging against your thigh, and then — too quickly, too inevitably — he was pushing inside, slow only in the way that prolonged the dread. You bit your lip hard enough to taste blood, trying to stay silent as he filled you, his moan low and broken against your neck.

"There you are," he murmured, rocking into you with a steady rhythm that pinned you to the bed. "So good for me. So ready to be a mommy."

The ceiling blurred and spun above you, but you forced the tears back. You knew better than to cry now. Crying would only make him sweeter. Softer. More patient. And somehow, that was worse.

He moved faster, deeper, chasing something you had no say in. His hands gripped your thighs, lifting you higher, adjusting you like a doll, like something built just for him. His forehead pressed against yours, and he whispered promises against your skin.

"I’ll fill you up," he panted. "You’ll never have to be alone again."

The bed creaked under you both, the room thick with the slick sound of his body using yours, the heavy, clinging scent of sweat and flowers and inevitability.

He kissed you when he came — messy, breathless, his hips grinding down to bury himself as deep as he could, as if he could fuse you together. His weight pressed you into the mattress, anchoring you there.

"You'll be such a good mommy," he whispered against your temple. "And I'll be such a good daddy."

You stared up at the ceiling — silent, still — feeling the words sink into your skin like chains you couldn't break. The life he dreamed of was already here, already real.

And no matter how fiercely you wanted to escape, he had already decided for the both of you.

You were his.

And there was no way out.

TBC.

Taglist: @hopingtoclearmedschool @violetvase @zanzie @neuvilletteswife4ever @yamekocatt @mel-vaz @vind1cta @greatwitchsongsinger @delusionalricebowl @nomi-candies @jsprien213 @kaii-nana33 @saturnalya @yandereaficionado @pinksaiyans @ivantillenthusiast @missybabes

760 notes · View notes

fictionalsweethearts · 6 months ago

Text

THE COMMISSION - EPILOGUE | SEVIKA X READER | ARCANE

'The Commission' series: pt. 1, pt. 2, pt. 3, pt. 4, epilogue.

Synopsis: You've been her personal mechanic for two years, but your growing reputation in the field has earned you dozens of clients and commissions. Sevika was looking for something fresh, durable and of good quality, and when it came to her sexual appetite, she only accepted the best. So she turned to you for a special commission.

Contains: arcane!sevika, feminine reader, lesbians, lots of dialogues, arcane universe, cannon sevika, mechanic!reader, wlw, slow burn BURNING

If you're underage, be responsible and don't consume smut content. GO AWAY AND BUILD A MOTHERFUCKING SAND CASTLE, THANK YOU.

Word count: 5,217 (yeah, things ALSO happen in this chapter)

Note: English is not my first language, so I apologize in advance for any mistake in my writing. Enjoy!

Sevika has always been a woman who foresees situations, analyzes people, studies patterns, assumes decisions, all as a mechanism of defense to the unpredictable of her childhood and the constant reproaches of her father for not having "been ahead of the facts." However, and as much as she thought she knew everything about you, Sevika never thought she would end the year with her lying in her bed, watching you fix her mechanical arm in with only your panties on after an entire afternoon of naps and cuddles.

The room smelled of tobacco and candle oil, which formed warm shadows on the wall while Zaun's nocturnal murmur sneaked through the window, giving a cozy and certainly sensual touch to the room. Sevika found a shelter between the sheets of her bed and between your legs, on your vast chest and your fingers interlaced on her hair. As soon as she set foot at home, she allowed herself to detach herself from the impenetrable facade and stop pretending that the whole world depended on her, because soon enough she would look for you in the living room and strip off of her cape and surround you with her arms and nuzzle in your neck.

"Bad day?"

"Shitty." She would mumble. "Silco's testing my patience again."

"What do you need?"

"Silence..." she said. "And a hot bath."

"I'll get it ready." you whispered, knowing Sevika would pull you back if you dared to leave her arms right now.

She tightened her grip around you, letting out a grunt. "Not yet." She whispered.

"You always keep up with too much, Sev." You said, pulling back just enough to catch a glimpse of her gloomy expression.

"Someone has to," she muttered, her voice muffled. "The idiots down in the fissures would be lost without me."

"You have to stop taking responsibility for everybody's mistakes." You insisted. "It's burning you out."

"It's my position."

"Then your position is unfair." You insisted, letting out a sigh. "Alright, enough. You're at home now."

No business talk at home. It was a rule you'd set up early on, an agreement that when she was with you, she needed to let go of the stress and responsibilities of her role in order to not disturb the only place she felt safe in.

"...fine."

"Good." You said, placing a kiss on her cheek. "Long day, you need to unwind a bit." You added, before Sevika pulled you for a well deserved kiss.

You closed your eyes, tasting the kiss as your hands ran over her vast back, the leather of her vest and the metal of her left arm, daring to disable Shimmer's passage with a small button you placed at shoulder height.

"What are you…?

"You don't need to use it at home." you whispered.

She wanted to protest, but soon her expression softened, the tension in her muscles lessening. "No business at home," she repeated your earlier words. "And no Shimmer."

"You remembered." you smiled, leaning to kiss her again as Sevika trapped your waist with her flesh arm. Slowly her kiss intensified, shedding the stress of the day and focusing on what you had to offer her. Then, you began to push her towards the desk until the back of her thighs met the edge and you settled between her legs.

"I've never seen you like this..." she whispered, her voice filled with a note of awe. "What's gotten into you, pretty girl?"

Her grip on the desk tightened as your hands caressed her thighs, feeling the warmth of her skin through the fabric of her trousers. You leaned down to pepper kisses along her neck and jaw, your hand moving down her chest and squeezing one of her breasts between your fingers. "I'm doing my job."

It didn't take you more than ten seconds to make it clear to her that you weren't playing around. You had already unbuttoned her vest, one hand firmly on her tit as you kissed her mouth and pushed yourself between her legs. Only then, and with some impatience, you stepped back to begin unbuckling her belt.

"Baby-"

"Shh... It'll feel good, I promise." you whispered against her lips, which Sevika grunted.

Sevika frowned, studying this unexpectedly direct and assertive side of you. The first few times you slept together, you allowed Sevika to take control, knowing she was far more experienced in bed than you, allowing yourself to be explored and tasted as much as she wanted. But tonight Sevika deserved to be the one explored and you were willing to use as many tricks as she had been able to teach you in those endless nights on bed and quickies in the kitchen.

Sevika caressed the back of your neck, lifting her hips as you slid her pants and underwear off, letting you take over. Her heart was pounding in her throat, watching you kneel before her and place kisses on the inside of her thighs.

"Uh, fuck." she breathed out when you dive into her pussy with a long and gentle lap. Her head fell back, her flesh hand burying on your hair as she couldn't control such natural reaction.

Sevika liked giving better, rather than receiving. She loved the idea of giving someone else those thrills of pleasure, of hearing them moan and sigh, their legs closing around her head in search of more contact. But being the one on the receiving end felt a world of difference.

Her legs on your shoulders, you were dipping into the wetness of her pussy as you kissed and licked her folds, sucking her clit softly, just to glance at her briefly from time to time. You could see her abdomen tightening, her chest rising with each breath, and the chiseled line of her neck and jaw. You moaned, not just from feeling in control, but from finally allowing yourself to explore her. She tasted so good. Her wetness smearing your chin, the curls of her pubic hair against your nose, her musky smell filling your nostrils and making you hiss.

She was the whole damn meal.

Sevika growled, gripping the edge of the desk with her flesh hand, her fingers clenching and loosening in time with each lap and kiss. You were shamelessly slurping, sucking and kissing, and if you had just bit more of boldness, you would've spit on it just to piss her off.

"Yeah, good..." she growled, looking down at you. "Feast on it, pretty girl."

Her legs trembled, you caught a hint of a whimper coming out her mouth as you dug just a bit more into her pussy, gripping her thights apart. You didn't realize she came, an orgasm almost imperceptible until a guttural moan escaped her throat and she suddenly pulled your hair and brought you for a kiss.

"You're getting too bold." she said in a ragged whisper.

Your breath trembled, your act of daring ended as soon as Sevika claimed her position back with that phrase. Then she sighed, cupping your cheek.

"You..." she whispered, her voice hoarse. "You never cease to surprise me." She leaned in, planting a soft kiss on your forehead. "You did good, pretty girl. Really good."

The taste of recognition filled your mouth and made your stomach flutter. Nothing tasted as good as Sevika's praises. Absolutely nothing. "You said something about a bath...?" she asked then, as you stepped back.

"Yeah, yeah." You nodded. "I'll get it ready right away."

Sevika leaned back against the desk, her breath still coming in soft pants as she watched you move away. Her body was boneless, relaxed from the release you had given her, and there was a hint of a smile on her lips. Just when you left the room, she admitted how damn weak she ended up. Her legs were fucking limp.

"This goddamn girl." She muttered.

"How did this happen?" you asked, focused on the mechanical arm's malfunctions. "The joints are broken, the shimmer compartment burnt. Did you get into a fight with a damn lion or what?"

Sevika sighed, tucking an arm under her head as she watched you fix the piece from the bed. For the past ten minutes she was unable to think of anything other than your slim back and the softness of your ass. Repairing her arm half naked was quite the way to end the day.

"A fight with a lion would have been less troublesome," she finally replied, her voice a bit strained.

"So...?"

Sevika shifted, propping herself up on her elbow to watch you work. "So," she began, a bit reluctantly. "There was a bit of a disagreement with Jinx."

She grimaced, remembering the encounter. "She rigged one of her bombs to explode when I wasn't looking. Caught me by surprise, blew up my goddamn arm."

You suddenly threw down your tools, turning around with anger showing on your face. "She what?" you spat.

"Easy, easy." she said, her voice gentle yet firm. She held up her flesh arm, as if trying to placate you. "It's not as bad as it sounds. I've had my arm blown off before, remember?"

"She could've killed you!" you barked.

"I'm tougher than I look," she said, a hint of a smile on her lips. "And I doubt Jinx was actively trying to kill me. She just enjoys causing chaos."

"I don't give a damn if she's into causing chaos and shit, she'll end up killing someone." you stated, standing up. "What caused her a fit of madness this time? Silco didn't comply to one of her stupid whims?"

She groaned. "It's Jinx," she said, as if that explained everything. "The little gremlin's always been unpredictable. And Silco... Well, he's learned not to get in her way when she's in the middle of one of her episodes."

She leaned back. "I can handle her, baby, don't sweat it."

"She's a goddamn lose cannon." you hissed. "And you're fine with it? Don't be stupid."

Sevika's expression darkened at your harsh words. "I'm not stupid." she snapped, her own temper flaring momentarily. "And I have my reasons for tolerating Jinx's antics."

She took a deep breath, trying to remain calm. "The undercity is a chaotic place, and the people here aren't exactly peaceful. Jinx... She's one of our own. She's a loose cannon, yes, but she's also a weapon we can use."

"An unpredictable weapon, you could say." you crossed your arms. "It's your mechanic arm today, but tomorrow could be the flesh one. You've lost your arm for the cause, there's no need to lose another, Sevika."

"I don't need you hovering over me like a mother hen," she snapped. "I can handle myself. I've been doing this long before you came along, and I'll be doing it long after you're gone."

You flinched over her distant tone, but you stood your ground again. "That's where you're wrong." you stated. "Cause I won't be gone, ever."

Sevika tilted her head, the bedsprings creaking under her weight as she sat up. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” she said finally.

"And don't promise Jinx won't blow on your face if you can't keep it." you stated.

Sevika sighed, reaching out for the glass of liquor on her bedside table. "Always using my words against me."

"I'm being frank." you said, your eyes flickering to the arm on the desk. "Your arm is ruined, I need to take it to the workshop. So don't expect to have it back soon."

“You—.” she started to protest, her temper flaring once more. “You’re not taking my arm. I need it.”

"You want a piece of junk for arm, then?" You inquired.

God, she was nearly losing it tonight.

“Fine,” she grumbled, reluctantly admitting defeat. “Take it to the workshop, then. But I better get it back in perfect condition, you hear me?”

"So you're threatening me now?"

Sevika slammed the glass on the table.

"I’m not threatening you.” she grumbled. "I’m just making it clear that I expect my arm back in pristine condition. I don’t have time to deal with any subpar repairs."

"When have I ever done it wrong, Sevika?" you said, turning to look for your shirt somewhere in the room. Being naked in an argument was not pleasant and Sevika let out a huff after your breasts weren't on sight anymore.

"Never." She admitted gruffly. "Your work is impeccable."

"Then don't doubt me," you stated, pulling on your pants before borrowing one of Sevika's cigarettes. You searched for your jacket on the coat rack.

Sevika sighed, realizing you were getting ready to leave. She wasn't stopping you, though, you no longer needed vigilance since your recovery developed smoothly. "Where are you going?" She asked.

"I have work to do at the workshop." you mumbled, picking your toolbox and Sevika's prostetic arm. "Don't wait for me, you need to sleep."

She hummed. "Be back before sunrise, got it? I don't want you out and late at night."

"Sure, ma'am."

"Don't 'ma'am' me." She spat. "Just… be careful, alright? This city isn’t safe at night. Even the shadows have teeth."

"And you're the teeth." You smirked, before Sevika groaned and reached out to pull you by the arm.

"One more funny reply and you're not leaving the apartment." She snapped at you.

You raised an eyebrow, like an insolent teenager who was beginning to question the authority of her parents. Sevika didn't scare you, she stopped doing so a long time ago, and certainly after having her trembling with your head between her legs, she didn't manage to intimidate you. "I hear." you nodded.

Sevika watched you leave, her eyes trailing after you with a mixture of frustration and desire. She couldn’t decide whether she wanted to strangle you or kiss you. As the door shut behind you, she let out a low grumble and took a deep drag from her cigarette. "Stubborn little shit…" she muttered, a small smirk playing at her lips.

Rumors flew as fast through the streets of Zaun as the Shimmer. It took no more than four hours to hear that Silco's daughter had appeared in the Last Drop like a scolded puppy, strangely docile without knowing when or who caused it. But the truth is that Jinx showed up at Sevika's office and apologized to Sevika for the bomb accident, placing a new, optimized mechanical arm on the table, wrapped in a gift ribbon.

Sevika could only attribute it to you.

What the hell did you do?

Sevika walked through the dimly lit corridors of The Last Drop, her eyes watchful and searching. She was looking for only one person - you.

When she finally found you in the repair shop, her footsteps halted. “Have a moment?” she asked, her voice gruff.

You dragged on your cigarette, turning around as you removed your goggles from your eyes and raised an eyebrow. You didn’t even bother to get up from the stool, your expression impassive, almost disinterested. "I'm busy."

Sevika's jaw tightened at your dismissive tone. It was infuriating how you could look so utterly disinterested, when you had her wrapped around your little finger. She stalked closer, her muscles tensing in irritation. "I didn’t ask if you were busy. I said I need to speak with you."

You placed the cauterizer on the table and Sevika leaned against a nearby workbench, arms crossed underneath her poncho. "Care to tell me what you did to Jinx?" she asked.

"Uh... nothing?" you asked. "Why would I have anything to do with her?"

"Don't play coy with me." she growled. "The girl suddenly shows up, apologizing and dropping off a new arm? That’s not her style. You’ve been meddling again, haven’t you?"

You couldn't help but chuckle. "Did she apologize?" you inquired.

"Yes, she did apologize. She even wrapped the damn arm in a gift ribbon. It's the most polite I've ever seen her be."

You dragged out your cigarette, making the ash flutter into the ashtray, a cup. “Jinx is so much more than a crazy girl, she’s talented,” you said. “I thought she could make up for her damn mistake by making you a new arm.”

"And you thought that by... what? Whispering a few pretty words in her ear, you could get her to make me a new arm?" she questioned, disbelief coloring her tone.

"Nothing a couple of threats and some good rhetoric can't fix," you said smugly, before Sevika slammed her fist on the table.

"You threatened Jinx?" she demanded, her eyes burning with anger. "Are you out of your damn mind? She's unpredictable, dangerous and—"

"She messed with you," you interrupted her. "And since you're not going to fight back, do you think I'm going to sit back and watch that, Sevika?"

"It's not your place to handle Jinx, that's my business. Stay out of it."

You sighed, taking a look at this colorful and flashy new arm of Sevika Jinx knew how to add her touch to the piece, from the colors, the slot machine aesthetic, and the claw where the hand should be. "Did you like it?" you asked, more softly this time.

She reached out slowly, her fingers tracing over the metal and the claw. "It's… adequate." she grunted.

"Good." you smiled. "I'm glad I trusted her that."

As soon as the problem seemed to be fixed, you turned your attention to the piece you were currently working on. Sevika let out a groan, realizing you got away with it again.

Why on Earth I fell for this woman? I have enough trouble on my own.

Sevika leaned against the workbench, her eyes glued to you as you hummed a soft tune, completely absorbed in your work. It was infuriating. As soon as Sevika started looking around, her eyes fell on Shimmer's strap-on resting on the table. She had to look at it twice to realize it was the one she asked you to make four months ago. Sevika thought she had lost it; in the brothel, people tend to take things that aren't theirs.

"I thought I lost that thing," she grumbled, picking it up to examine it.

"That?" you asked, your eyes flickering to the strap. "Hell no, I spent fifty-six hours on that thing."

"What on earth took so damn long?"

"The Shimmer system; quite a challenge." you said.

At that moment, you couldn't help but look at her. A question had been floating around in your head ever since the day you handed Sevika her commission. "Did you like it?" you asked. "Did it feel good to wear?"

Sevika huffed, toying with the strap on her hand before she smirked. "Honestly, girl? It's been the best thing I've ever wore."

You smiled subtly, your attention shifting to your tools even though the tingle of satisfaction remained in your stomach. “How are the commissions going?” asked Sevika.

“Too many for so few hands and hours of sleep.” you pointed out, smiling as Sevika’s expression hardened. “I won’t use Shimmer, calm down.”

"Good," she said gruffly, leaning against the table closer to you. "You better not, or I'll kick your ass."

Despite having arrived angry, your proximity had weakened her temper. Your scent, the heat of your body, it was driving her mad. She had a strong desire to grab you, pull you close, and kiss you senselessly.

"So..." you said. "You came here to call me out for messing with Jinx or just to check how am I doing?"

"Both," she grumbled, her arms still crossed, her eyes flickering down to your lips. “You’ve been sticking your nose where it doesn't belong... again.”

"Where should I stick it in, then?" you teased her.

"Not in my business, to start." she grumbled, uncrossing her arms as she stepped closer.

Before you could even respond, Sevika grabbed you by the waist and roughly pulled you into a searing kiss. Her pent-up frustration and need for you had finally boiled over, and she couldn't deny herself any longer. You whimpered, barely adjusting to the kiss before Sevika dragged whatever you had onto the workbench and pinned you against the surface. “Hey, watch my stuff!”

"Shut up," she growled against your mouth. "I’ll buy you more tools."

Shit, she's mad.

"Sev... the door..." you panted between kisses, already spreading your legs so she could settle between them. Her intensity did not give rise to protests.

"Anyone who dares to enter will lose their eyes," she grunted, bringing your leg around her waist.

Sevika didn't let you process every kiss and bite she placed on your skin, she was unleashed by frustration and desire. You cupped her neck and sighed, her lips on your neck, her right hand wandering over your breasts and abdomen. You reached for her vest, unbuttoning it as you kissed her vehemently. The sound of her vest hitting the floor echoed through the room, as did your gasps and sighs.

You just hoped that no one had to lose their eyes that night.

You sat up, catching one of her breasts between your lips as Sevika hissed, her hand playing with your bare thighs before she felt the urge to pull that denim skirt off you. Sevika was in no mood for foreplay, her patience already exhausted and she had no intention of saving any more for you after you had challenged her authority by messing with Jinx. She growled, undoing the clasp of your skirt and sliding it down your legs until it ended up on the workshop floor.

"One of these days, you won't get a kiss but your ass whipped instead." she grumbled.

And then, you moaned over her hand sneaking into your panties, rubbing your wet pussy with unexpectly gentle fingers. Her weight pressed against you, her mouth hovering over yours accompanied by soft pants.

"A kiss or two and you're all wet for me."

"I was jerking off before you came in." you lied with that insolent smile of yours.

"Thinking about me, I suppose."

Her fingers continued to rub you, her mouth stealing any protests you might have had. She loved how you came undone under her touch, how she could make you moan and gasp.

You couldn't help but chuckle, Sevika looked fed up with your crude humor, but she didn't complain either. You watched her spread kisses down your stomach, your hip, the inside of your thighs, like a lioness coming closer to its prey, before pulling aside the fabric of your panties and giving you a shameless lick.

"Mhm... shit..." you gasped.

You covered your mouth, your gasps coming out of your nose as you tried to silence Sevika’s slurping by turning on the milling machine, which was particularly loud when it first started. By then, Sevika was having a feast between your legs, her lips sucking and kissing, licking at the wetness that was pouring out of you like a waterfall.

“Fuck.” you hissed, your hand reaching for her hair.

You still hadn't gotten used to Sevika's rhythm, she ate you out like you were her last meal, not caring about getting your slick all over her nose and chin, or the way you rubbed against her mouth to get more contact. A good dish is best enjoyed with all the senses, regardless of getting dirty in the process.

She enjoyed knowing that you liked it, that she was able to draw whimpers from your throat and break your insolent demeanor. After a while, your legs seemed to tremble and Sevika pulled away with a loud inhale, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

"Why did you...?" you managed to gasp before noticing that Sevika was staring at the strap-on sitting on the next workbench.

Oh, shit.

"Turn around." she commanded, her voice low and husky with desire.

"Sev-"

"Baby, trust me." she whispered, her hand cupping your cheek. "I'll be gentle."

"If someone enters..." you panted.

"No one will enter. They're all too goddamn scared of me." she replied, her hand gently grabbing your hips and guiding you to face away from her.

You could barely handle the adrenaline, your whole body seemed to be electrified, your chest against the table as soon as you bent over, raising your hips. It was happening and you were absolutely thrilled. You felt a kiss on your shoulder, you trembled when you perceived Sevika's figure behind you before a wave of anxiety crossed your body.

You've made plenty of them, but you never had tried a strap-on.

Sevika gasped then, the Shimmer compartment connecting to the matrix in her arm and thus to her system. That current of Shimmer through her veins tickled her and tinted her eyes slightly purple. Sevika saw how tense you were, and it was making her heart ache. She wanted you to enjoy this, to experience the same pleasure she had felt when she used it on Robin. So, she let her lips wander over your shoulder, down your back, as she moved her body closer to yours. Her chest pressed against you, her fingers caressing your hips.

"Don't be nervous," she whispered, her breath hot against your ear. "I've got you."

You held on to the table, Sevika giving you kisses on the back of your neck while sliding the strap between your folds, back and forward, gently stimulating you. "You made it, remember? Don't you trust your work?"

You moaned softly. "I didn't think you were going to use it on me."

Sevika held your hip. "I trust your work. Trust me too."

Suddenly you felt her slide inside you, inch by inch your lips parted and you let out a muffled moan, silenced by Sevika's kisses on your neck. Your insides opened for her, contracting around the phallus with ease, ready to take her whole. "Breathe…" she whispered.

You gasped, holding onto the edge of the table as Sevika began to thrust gently, methodically and deeply, feeling her tits press against your back, your own against the surface of the workbench. The weight of both of you made the wood creak.

Frankly, if the table broke, Sevika wouldn't give a damn.

"You're doing so well…" she whispered. "I knew you would."

You straightened up, Sevika wrapping an arm around your chest as she increased the speed of her thrusts, allowing yourself to moan louder, showing her that deep inside your body was tickling with her presence, your core had a pulse of its own. "It feels... good..."

"It'll feel better, baby, keep up with me." she growled, wrapping her bicep around your throat as she dared to slam her hips harder this time. And you whimpered.

You created that strap, you spent hours sitting at that very same workbench, trial and error to achieve a unique piece capable of pleasing Sevika and her exquisite requirements. You designed it, you took the mold in her presence, you spent sleepless nights and woke up to continue working on it. And now Sevika was allowing you to try the fruit of your labor for yourself, and damn… it was wonderful.

Sevika fucked you without pause or hesitation, methodically as if it were a task that must be done conscientiously. She squeezed your breasts, licked your ear and rubbed your clitoris with her flesh hand, making you tremble and shudder. By then, you were dizzy and extremely sensitive, Sevika could not bear to fuck you without seeing your expression twist in pleasure.

So, she quickly pulled out and turned you over, her hands grabbing your hips and lifting you onto the table, sitting you down on the edge.

"Look at me." she gasped, kissing you at the same time she slide into you. You moaned into her mouth, an arm around her neck as you caught a glimpse of her purple eyes. "Fuck, you're so pretty."

"You're so high..." you panted.

"This is the closest you'll ever be to Shimmer again." she smiled, fucking you relentlessly.

Each thrust was a dose of Shimmer, each thrust shook her entire body and sent shivers down to her core. It was addictive and mesmerizing at the same time, she couldn't get enough of how good it felt. "Oh fuck… you feel so good." she whimpered.

"Mhm, Sev..." you moaned sweetly. "Harder."

The Shimmer didn't just heighten the sensations, it inhibited the shame and brought the emotions to the surface. That's why you weren't impressed when Sevika began to pour her heart out on the act.

"I don't deserve you..." she muttered, her tone weaker than she intended to. You cupped her cheek.

"Bullshit."

"If you dare to leave me, there will be nothing left of me," she confessed, a hand on your cheek and your foreheads met. Your breaths mingled together.

"I ain't leaving."

Sevika whimpered, the scars on her left cheek glistening, her eyes seeming to sparkle and then you realized the Shimmer was taking its toll on her. "Sev, take it off." you begged, but she lunged at you, her hips never stopping. "Sev!" you insisted, even though you were reaching your peak yourself.

"I can't..." she gasped, before she placed a weak kiss on your lips. "I love you."

"You lo- Ah, ah fuck...!" you couldn't contain yourself, the sudden orgasm knocking you down like a wave before you fell back on the workbench.

And your body went numb, the sound of the machine accompanying your and Sevika's gasps, until you heard her curse and throw the strap on the table. Sevika's voice was hoarse, almost like she was choking back tears, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. The adrenaline, the Shimmer, the revelation of her feelings - it was all coursing through her, leaving her vulnerable and unsure of how to react.

You took a deep breath, rolling over to look at Sevika and notice the way she was shaking. You propped yourself on your elbow, reaching out to her. "I told you not to overuse it."

"I know..." she sighed, sitting on the edge of the table as you wrapped your arms around her. Your stomach fluttered, you inhaled her scent as if it were a fragrance you were trying to decipher, when in reality what you wanted to decipher were the words she said earlier.

All these years, this insolence and boldness just to get here. You had no regets.

"I love you too, Sev." you said softly then, every word rolling on your tongue.

She was quiet, her eyes fixed on yours as she took in what you had just said. "I know," she whispered, her voice barely above a breath. "And that terrifies me."

"I should be terrified of you." you smiled, noticing the way Sevika's eyes softened. You've never seen her like that. "But ever since I met you, I knew fear won't lead me nowhere."

"Most people are smart enough to stay away from me," she pointed out, her gaze dropping to the floor, before she grabbed your hand with her flesh one. "You're not smart."

You chuckled. "No, I'm not."

But Sevika knew well that no fool could get under her skin like you did; even if you had been a street rat, a Shimmer junkie and her personal mechanic.

She just hoped to call you wife one day.

The end.

taglist: @lez-zuha @amoraeu @nikaachuuuu @furrytaesss @elliecoochieeater @n-noctiss @emmanetalias @sevikashairbrush @lipglosskxsses @chaosfieldflower @kairuvhen @moodient @izzy120 @bonemarrowstew @abbysunderwear @batman-2 @karmalovessimonriley @fandomsinthegalaxies @fudosl @femme-historian @poprostuhybryda-blog @kifuqe @xblinkx2 @tamikahoshiko @lia-winther @https-mika @armeenix @bambishaven @xblinkx2 @luvg1s3l1e @dopemusiccowboy @imheadintothemountains @lilithyys @soullessbody @lavendersgirl @lovesickdreamer @makaylaislovely @demonofpuns @celestialst4r @ilovehotd @emmanetalias @bethany-l87 @marah280 @srtuna @jannesyjane @victoriaanne9 @rottngrl3 @depressedqueersocialists @slut4sevika @fragilsnoopy @stmvivs @sillystarv @vyvvycg @sapphicsontop @mixtape003 @blackqueengold @thesameoldboo

So, yeah, this fic is done. Do you know how much I enjoyed writing it? I really had a great time, even more so seeing your comments.

Girls, it's been an honor to have entertained you, I'll keep cooking up as many more as my delusional brain can come up with. THANK YOU ALL <3

#arcane #arcane fanfic #league of legends #arcane s2 #arcane sevika #arcane smut #sevika arcane #sevika x reader #sevika x y/n #sevika x you #slow burn BURNING #love cofessions yass baby #some delusional shit #sapphic #wlw #sevika my woman #sevika the butch you are #some shit

567 notes · View notes

dark-moonlust · 9 months ago

Text

Bound by the Rose Mark

This commission is owned by Kate Hart. As the original writer, I strictly forbid any form of reproduction, replication, or translation of my stories without my explicit consent.

Pairing: beast oc (Alaric) x f!reader

Summary: This is a story with Beauty and the Beast vibes. You live in a grand castle with a beast named Alaric. One day, you accidentally touch him and a glowing rose tattoo appears on your skin. Alaric explains that the tattoo is a sign of a curse that binds the two of you together. You can't get more than a few steps away from him without feeling pain and arousal. Forced to stay close, you both succumb to your feelings and the deep connection between you.

Warnings: 18+, mid-eighteenth century story, true love curse, beauty and the beast vibes, magic tattoo bonding, virgin reader, oral (fem receiving), foreplay and stimulation, p in v sex, big 🍆, belly bulge, knotting, lots of 💦.

I completely forgot to post this commission! Enjoy!!

Château d'Azay-le-Rideau, France - 1750

“Make it stop!” you groaned, wide eyes on the Beast, who stood calmly by the fire, his large, furred form casting long shadows over the walls. “Please, just… make it stop!”

“I cannot do that.” Came his voice, steady and infuriatingly husky.

The moonlight shone through the castle's grand windows, pouring glittering beams across your body as you paced back and forth, the tap of your boots echoing on the sleek floor. Your fingers moved nervously against the mark on your wrist, the delicate rose pattern twisting and developing, shimmering softly against your skin. With each passing second, the flower vines extended further up your arm, emitting a sweet warmth.

It all began a year ago with a professional agreement. The Beast was Lord of the Castle and needed someone to govern it. You were that person. You lived in his huge fortress and worked as his chamberlain. But what began as a rigid work agreement quickly turned into closeness.

In the past months, you’d grown used to his company, you were after all, alone in a huge castle with no one but a few servants to talk. He’d gifted you his enormous library, a beautiful haven of literature. He also spent time with you every day, taking you on walks to the gardens, organizing big dinners, music nights, and theatrical nights. You’d been foolish to allow yourself to get comfortable, to hover close enough and be tempted to touch him.

But his fur had appeared so silky and inviting. What was one touch?

You'd succumbed to the temptation and touched him, curved your small palm over his massive arm.

A moment later, all order unraveled.

A weird tingling sensation had begun to emerge from your wrist, and as you looked down, a red rose began to light softly, its delicate petals winding up your wrist, its thorny vines snaking out, tracing your skin with intricate detail. The tattoo was enchanted and even now— it continued to spread on your arm.

Oh, how foolish and naive you had been! To approach him so carelessly, hovering so close that his mere presence seemed to draw you in. It was foolish to give in to your curiosity, reaching out to touch him despite the warnings. And now, this—this thing—was strangely connecting you to him in ways you couldn't fathom.

The Beast—no, Alaric, as he was once known—kept staring at you like an idiot, his sharp features unreadable. He didn’t even look troubled. Why would he be? For once, he wasn’t the one in trouble. He rather enjoyed it, wicked Frenchman that he was. Yet as you glanced at him, you felt another spark, a liquid warmth in your belly. His form, massive and imposing, stood out against the moonlight, making the entire hall feel smaller, more intimate.

Alaric had been cursed long long ago, cursed to find misery, coldness and no love. His face was no longer that of a beautiful Prince but of a beast with horns, sharp teeth and lion’s mane. He was massive and muscled, with strong legs and a wolf-like tail. His clothing was still royal, tailored to fit his form. He looked as elegant and well-groomed as possible.

With an exasperated groan, you stroked your wrist harder, the glow intensifying with each stroke of your fingers. "Damn! Why doesn't it stop?! Please, stop it!"

He spoke with a long sigh, his voice low and rumbling. "I told you I cannot do that."

"You can't or you won't?"

"It's the mark of the curse…" His glance swept across your wrist. "There is no undoing it."

Your heart sunk at his words. You were aware of his curse but had no idea it could be transmitted through touch. Damnation! And damn the warmth of the mark, affecting your whole body. It felt warm and wet between your thighs as if a fire was spreading beneath your skin, connecting you to him. Every pulse of fire reminded you of your error.

“I… I didn’t ask for this!” you protested, rubbing at the mark as if you could wipe it away with sheer willpower. “I was just—just curious! I did not want to be cursed.”

“You touched me, therefore now you will pay. You are bound to me.”

You shot him a sharp look, waving your pulsing wrist in the air. “You could have warned me that I’d get cursed just by touching you!”

He chuckled, the sound deep and rich. “But I did warn you not to touch me, didn’t I? You were simply too curious.”

“I thought you were goading me, challenging me! You didn’t mention the part where I’d be magically tethered to you like a pet on a leash,” you snapped despite the lingering warmth in your chest.

“You are wild and untamed. Always speaking back to me, always doing as you please. It’s your fault, little one.”

“Still…” you muttered, your voice barely above a whisper. “A little heads-up would’ve been nice.”

“Where would the fun in that be?”

“Oh, yes, this is so hilarious. I’m cursed with a pulsing tattoo— it glows like a freaking beacon by the way—and you’re not in the least concerned.”

“The mark will stop glowing once you accept it.”

“I’ll never accept it!”

Alaric sighed. “The curse cast upon me ensured I would never be loved. I was cursed to live as a beast, hated and feared... alone."

You gazed at him, the weight of his words hurting your heart. His formidable, imposing frame suddenly appeared fragile.

“However,” he continued, “there is a way… for the curse to wane. Not to break it entirely, but weaken its grasp. The curse weakens—forever— when I am touched by someone who genuinely loves me.”

“So… this mark…”

Alaric nodded. “It means you are the one fated to love me. And because of that, the curse has loosened its grip on me. Though I can never return to the man I once was, I can have love.”

Your eyes welled with emotion, but you refused to cry in front of him. “So… this is permanent?"

Alaric hummed and stepped close, his towering frame suddenly feeling much too close. “I’m sorry… but you are now bonded to me, my thorny rose,” he purred. “Alas, you could have worse company, no? And the mark… I think it’s quite beautiful.”

You stared at him in disbelief. “Beautiful? It’s so big and so… damn hot!”

“That temper of yours…” he sighed softly, in a way a beast like him never would. “Of course it makes you hot. The closer we are, the more it will affect you. It’s a sign that our bond is… flourishing.”

You blinked, rubbing your thighs together at the effect of his deep voice, presence and scent. “Flourishing? My wrist isn’t a garden, Alaric. This is my skin. And I assure you, it’s not supposed to glow.”

“We are connected. The curse… it has tied our fates together. The more we fight it— both of us— the more painful it will become."

You swallowed hard. “And if I… don’t fight it? Will it stop and leave my skin?”

“No. Never, little one. The mark will just settle there, binding you to me, fully and irrevocably. But… I’m afraid we cannot stray far from one another without feeling pain.”

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

His lips curled, showing just the barest flash of sharp teeth. “Immensely.”

Stupefied, you spun around, intending to get some fresh air but the moment you moved away, a sudden, scorching pain went through your chest, making you gasp. He was there instantly, steadying you with a large, clawed hand. You curled into his body, sighing pleasantly at the feel of his fur against your skin. It felt so good, warm and inviting, his musky scent tantalizing your senses. You hadn’t realized it but your hands were buried in his forearms, holding him to you.

“Foolish one,” he muttered, his breath warm against your temples. “What did I just tell you?”

“Alaric…” you sighed, meeting his eyes with reluctant acceptance. “Make it stop, please, make this ache go away.”

A low chuckle escaped him as he rubbed your wrist, feeling the warmth pulsating beneath your skin and tracing the delicate rose mark. The rose's delicate vines had wrapped themselves around your forearm, growing faintly. You bit back a moan, despite everything, you felt the pull—the odd bond that bound you to him, pulling you nearer to him with each breath.

“Ah, yes… it can be intense. Every step you take away from me will only bring more pain, more desire pooling deep inside.”

“Deep inside?”

Alaric raised a brow, a glint in his eyes. “Hmm, deep inside your cunt. I can scent your sweet arousal. Always could scent your need for me.”

You looked away. His words made you wet. Tenderly, he turned your face back to him. There was no hiding your blush or emotions.

“The curse bound us together. Two halves meant to be one. And if we give in…” he trailed off, his huge palm framing your face. “Would it be that bad?”

The tension in the room shifted as he stood there, with you in his arms, the strange pull between you palpable. Were you truly the one for him? Your heart stuttered. The idea of being physically and emotionally bound to Alaric—a beast of both grace and power —was captivating.

And the more you thought about it, the more your heart and body betrayed you. Oh dear… Yes, you wanted him. You wanted him with every ounce of your soul. Right on cue, the tattoo—its once glowing petals and vines now settled into a permanent black design that curled up your forearm. Becoming a part of you.

You didn’t resist when Alaric scooped you up, carrying you through hallways to his private chamber— a huge, opulent bedroom with polished wood and velvet furnishings, tapestries hanging on the walls, and a stone fireplace crackling in the corner. The bed was the largest piece of furniture in the room; it had a dark purple canopy covered in silk and velvet covers making it appear incredibly soft and inviting.

Alaric lowered you on the plush bedding and he came to rest beside you, his body half-looming over you, massive yet tender and protective. His eyes, golden and intense, settled on you then down to the rose mark. His fingers, clawed but surprisingly gentle, traced the rose before his tongue brushed a petal of the tattoo, feather-light, sending a shiver of electricity racing up your spine.

You watched, breathless, as he nuzzled and licked every petal, every vine, every thorn, his muzzle soft against your skin. The heat of his breath warmed you as he worked his way up your forearm, his mouth following the intricate lines of the rose, savoring every inch of it. With each kiss, your pulse quickened, your body shamelessly hot, your pussy dripping slick.

“Alaric…” you said in a sultry voice you could hardly recognize.

“Easy. We’ll take it slow, my thorny rose.”

As he said that, his lips hovered just inches from your collarbone. His tongue darted out, tracing the delicate indentation at the base of your neck. A sweet gasp escaped you as he licked a slow, tortuous trail down the round tops of your breasts, pulled up by your corset and your bodice. The laces on your bodice came undone, the corset disposed of in seconds as he skillfully drew the fabric down your waist, exposing your breasts to the cool air and his hungry gaze.

Your body arched closer to his, your nipples hardening into tight, aching buds. His eyes locked onto yours before he bent down and let his tongue trace the underside of each mound. You whined, burning so fiercely with desire as he licked the around your areolas. Teasing and exploring. Never quite getting to your sensitive nipples.

“Alaric,” you warned, thrusting your chest to his mouth.

“How I love it when you call my name.”

And with that, he licked one tiny bud, causing your body to shiver with want. Your hands gripped his horns, keeping him in place as he lapped one nipple, sucking wetly, his saliva and scent mingling on your skin. He did the same with the other nipple, and your body melted into his, hips arching up, breasts thrust sweetly into his lips.

You were lost in passion and he was only touching you.

You craved more. You wanted to touch, feel, and own every part of him.

Boldly, your hands slid up to his jacket, tugging at the heavy fabric, feeling its weight between your fingertips. You dragged his jacket away and he helped you remove it along with his shirt, without quite taking his tongue and hands off your breasts. Furry broad shoulders were revealed and a powerful, sculpted chest and stomach.

Large hands encompassed your tits as he growled softly and angled his head, his tongue trailing the curve of your neck. His fingers pinched your nipples, careful of his claws. Your breath hitched and you tilted your head back, offering him more.

“Oh god… yesss,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

Blindly, you brought his mouth to you, needing to feel his kiss. But he hesitated, pulling back slightly. His golden eyes met yours, darkened with desire but shadowed with worry.

“I’m afraid… of hurting you,” he drawled. “I have no lips and my teeth… they’re sharp. I don’t want to—”

“Use your tongue,” you whispered, breathless, gone was the shyness in you. “Please.”

For a moment, he seemed to hesitate, but then, as though unable to resist any longer, he surged forward. His mouth opened, and his tongue, hot and insistent, swept across your lips before plunging deeply. Deeper still. He tasted you, swallowed your breaths, and pressed his moist and burning tongue against yours, sending sparks of ecstasy shooting through you with each stroke. You gasped into his mouth, the sound drowned out by the sheer intensity of the kiss, your hands grabbing his shoulders.

The sound of fabric tearing and garments hitting the floor was the only indication of what was to come.

The flickering light in the room danced across your flesh, both naked and unashamed. His body enveloped yours, his weight pressing down on you, his thighs spreading your legs apart. The sheer size of him caused your pussy to clench. His shaft was a massive veined rod of flesh, long and thick, with a knot at the base. His cock throbbed and leaked moisture, and his balls thick and heavy, hung like ripe fruit.

You couldn't help but reach out, a little bashful as your fingers stroked the silky warmth of his shaft. It was both firm and tender, as hot as touching a blazing flame. Alaric snarled and watched your small hands. You trailed the protruding veins and bulbous head all the way down to the bulging sac. He growled, his entire body tense.

“Such soft gentle touches. But I can’t—little one. I need to taste you, have you.”

You opened your mouth to protest but whined instead when his tongue licked the delicate folds of your pussy. Your body ignited, waves of ecstasy crashing over you. Spine arching, you opened your legs obscenely wide, his head buried in between, wet tongue consuming your depths. He thrust his appendage inside, snarling primitively, and you sighed delightfully, your cunt pressing against his mouth as you shut your eyes tightly and surrendered to the passion.

“Mmmmm, so breathtaking,” he drawled, his tongue gracing your cunt. “I love the rose mark on your skin but even more so the petals on your wet cunt… so lovely and wet. I love to tease and lick them.”

Eyes holding your own, he hooked his large hands around your thighs, bringing them around his furred torso. His dick, massive and twitching, stroked against the wet petals of your cunt. He lubricated himself; you were soaked and ready to receive him. You wiggled and squirmed, impatiently attempting to guide him inside. Finally, with a gentle nudge, he growled, and the broad popped in.

Cupped your ass, he pushed inside, his cock gliding into you in one smooth thrust. You were incredibly tight, untouched and you gasped at the slight discomfort of the invasion. Despite his size, he somehow fit, his body seemingly designed to mold itself to yours. Your cunt was stretched wide, only his knot showing, and your belly bulged slightly, revealing the curve of his shaft beneath your skin.

Alaric caressed your belly lovingly as if marveling at the sight. “Yes, mine. It will be alright. I promise you. Does it hurt, little one?"

You shook your head. “Not anymore. Please… hmmm—move. Need to feel you so desperately.”

“As you wish, my rose.”

His eyes never left yours as he thrust out of you, all the way out before slowly filling you up. This time there was no discomfort, only building intensity. His shaft slid in and out of you, the friction reigniting your desire. Your body flexed, your walls squeezing around his dick as he increased the pace. His thrusts became faster and more urgent, and you held him, rocking against him as his tongue stroked yours, making you dizzy with desire.

Alaric was unstoppable, unrelenting and soon you were both shuddering in climax. He thrust one final time, bottomed out inside you till his swollen knot had popped inside. You whined, muscles contracting around him, your cunt snug around his knot, tying you together. You saw stars, thrashed wildly in little aftershocks as he released, a flood of cum filling you up. It didn’t help that he let out those delicious growls, tongue devouring your mouth.

Time seemed to stand still. You lay there, with him atop you, his dick still pulsing within you, his knot throbbing with a slow beat. It had been minutes and he was still spurting, though slower this time. You basked in the afterglow of your passion, felt so utterly at peace. Your bodies had become one and the tattoo on your wrist had never felt so right.

You were his, completely and utterly his.

“How are you feeling, my thorny rose?” he asked after he’d rolled over so you were draped over his chest, his knot still hard inside you.

“I feel loved,” you said as you rested over his chest feeling the steady thump of his heart beneath the fur. “I have never been kissed or loved by anyone like this before—have never felt anything like this before.”

“There is no going back now,” he said possessively. “You gave yourself to me. What I feel for you is raw, primal. It cannot be stopped or contained.”

You grinned. “So, what? I’m just stuck to you for the rest of eternity?”

“Figuratively and literally, I’m afraid,” he said, groaning at the feel of his knot tucked inside your warm cunt.

“You’re insufferable, you know that?”

Alaric’s eyes softened. “I will never be the charming Frenchman I once was. That man’s appearance is gone, replaced by this… beast.”

Smiling, you let your hand reach up to touch his face, tracing the firm lines of his jaw, his fur silky beneath your fingers. “The appearance might be gone,” you whispered, “but your heart isn’t. Besides, I think I’m past wishing for a handsome prince on a white horse. French or not.”

A low chuckle vibrated through his chest. “You’ve got a strange way of looking at things.”

“And you’ve got a strange way of doubting yourself,” you shot back teasingly. “You might not be the Prince you once were, but you’re more than enough for me.”

“Don’t you regret it?” he asked quietly after a few seconds. “Mating with me? That I’ll always be… like this?”

“Oh, I am surprised but this is so lovely,” you murmured, hands caressing his shoulder. “It’s so lovely because I always wanted you to be mine. I've always felt attracted to you but was frightened to admit it. I was also scared you would reject me heartlessly."

“Never. I could never do that.” He took your hand, kissed the rose tattoo on your wrist.

You smiled up at him, your heart swelling with love. “You are thoroughly mine, Alaric.“

For a moment, he stared at you and a soft, almost amused rumble escaped him. “You really are something,” he drawled, his free hand brushing the curve of your ass. “You’ve given me something I thought I could never have again."

“I am yours,” you whispered. “I love you. All of you, my Beast.”

“I love you more, my thorny rose,” he said, his eyes dark with lust.

Smiling, you kissed and made love again —harder, hotter, and wetter.

THE END

882 notes · View notes

aphroditelovesu · 4 months ago

Text

Poison - Aftermath

❝commission: an 'aftermath' type one shot. In part, I'd like to see what happens right after Alexander joins and Y/n in their room. I'd also be curious to see how Roxanna's father would handle the fallout of the attempted poisoning. Idk, I find the idea of an ambitious man like Oxyartes scrambling to cover his ass funny. — requested by 💻 anon.

❝ 📜 — lady l: oh, I confess I enjoyed writing this. If you pay attention, there are slight spoilers for the future of TLQ! I felt bad for Roxanna, I won't lie. I hope you like it and forgive me for any mistakes! :))

❝tw: mild angst, mention of attempted murder, mention of injuries, and implied threat.

❝📜pairing: yandere!alexander the great x female!reader.

❝word count: 1,303.

— poison (part one).

Your tent was quiet. The guards outside were silent, but you knew they were there.

Not that you complained. You knew their presence was to protect you, especially after what happened at the banquet today.

Roxanna had tried to poison you.

In a not-so-subtle way, and worse, in front of Alexander and the others. You knew she felt threatened, not only by you but by the babies you were carrying. Alexander didn't know yet that you were expecting twins, but still... She had threatened your life and the life of his child.

And that wouldn't go unpunished.

You heard Roxanna's screams even in your tent and didn't want to think too much about what was happening. You knew she probably would be and was being whipped, since that was one of Alexander's favorite forms of punishment, but you didn't want to think about what that entailed.

It should have revolted you, made you furious and terrified, but... You didn't. You didn't feel bad about it, not when she threatened not only your life but the lives of your unborn children.

Maybe it was your maternal instincts kicking in, but you couldn't feel the slightest bit of guilt or empathy for Roxanna's situation.

She brought this on herself.

Sighing heavily, you sat down on the cot, knowing that you would have to wait until Alexander returned. He had always slept in your tent since your kidnapping and you hadn't complained. You had come to enjoy his company, even love him in your own way and having him by your side didn't bother you anymore.

After what seemed like hours, Alexander entered the tent, his steps heavy and his breathing irregularly, as if he had run a marathon.

"It's done." He said and sat down next to you, looking at your face as if searching for something. You could tell that he seemed worried that you were mad at him.

But you weren't. If it had been a few months ago, you would have been, but now...

"Good." Was the only thing you said and he seemed surprised.

"Aren't you mad?" Alexander asked slowly, taking your hand in his, squeezing it lightly.

"No." You sighed and squeezed his hand back, "Roxanna shouldn't have tried to poison me. She should have known it wouldn't work."

Alexander frowned, surprised and a little apathetic at your indifference. You had changed and he didn't know what to make of those changes.

Well, at least you weren't mad at him.

"I wanted to kill her." Alexander confessed, pulling you into a loving hug, your head pressed against his chest. "But I know that's not a viable option."

You hummed in agreement.

"You're the King but you know that killing your Queen isn't a good thing to do. Not... Not without a good reason." You mumbled.

"And her trying to murder you, our child, isn't that reason enough?" He pulled you away a little, looking at your face with confusion. "How are you not angry about this? You could have been killed!"

You could feel the panic, the fear of losing you in his words.

"She wouldn't have killed me. I'm not that stupid, Alexander. I know she doesn't like me but I don't think you should kill her." You said, kissing his cheek as a way to calm him down.

Alexander took a deep breath and took your lips in a passionate kiss, pouring all his fear and love into the kiss. And by the gods, he was scared.

You pulled away after a few seconds.

"And she's not my Queen." Alexander corrected you, your faces pressed together. "You're my Queen. My only Queen."

You smiled at his words, feeling your heart skip a beat in your chest. You knew you were falling in love, or maybe you were already in love with Alexander and didn't care. He was good for you, in his own way.

Alexander caressed your face and kissed your forehead, murmuring against it, "I guess you were wrong when you told me to marry her."

You bit your lower lip. "Give her time. She's still young."

"You're young too. We're young, (Y/N)." Alexander grumbled, hugging you again. He was shaking slightly and you couldn't tell if it was from anger or fear. Maybe both. "And even so, I never tried to kill my stepsibilings."

You laughed. "You didn't, maybe, but your mother did."

Alexander smiled for the first time since that situation. "Well... I can’t argue with that." He kissed you again gently.

"And I can take care of myself." You murmured against his lips. "Don’t worry. I won't let her or anyone else hurt me."

Alexander looked deep into your eyes and said, "If she tries to do anything to you again... I will kill her. I don't care if there are repercussions. I will do it slowly and without remorse. And I'll enjoy it.''

His gaze softened and you sighed. Maybe you should have been scared or worried, but all you felt was a rush of affection. Knowing that he was so in love with you, that he loved you so much, that he was willing to go against his own laws, his own morals, made you feel warm inside.

It made you feel loved.

"And I expect nothing less." You whispered and let him kiss you again, laying you down on the cot, his calloused but comforting hands caressing your round belly and your sides.

The lit torches cast a glow in the darkness of the tent that mingled with the moans and the sounds of your bodies moving against each other.

You were safe in his arms and that was all that mattered to Alexander. That was what he kept telling himself as he made love to you again and again.

Oxyartes was furious.

He just didn't know if it was with Alexander or with his own daughter. With her stupidity.

Oxyartes stared at his daughter's scarred back in horror. The marks, the scars that the lashes she received would leave, would mark her forever. Blood dripped from the wounds and Roxanna's grunts of pain made him shudder at the barbarity that had been committed against her.

Alexander did this. It was a punishment, a clear warning that any form of conspiracy, of disrespect against him, against (Y/N) and their unborn child, would not be tolerated.

"It hurts..." Roxanna whimpered as one of the servants carefully dabbed a damp cloth over the wounds.

Oxyartes crossed his arms, his dark eyes shining with uncontained hatred. It wasn't just toward Alexander, but toward his own daughter.

"What were you thinking when you decided to try to poison your husband's first wife so blatantly?" He growled each word, his hatred palpable. "Have I taught you nothing?!"

Roxanna's tears kept falling and he grew increasingly frustrated. Sure, he was upset that his daughter had been hurt, but he was more concerned about what this could mean for him, Bactria, and his people.

They had been spared, yes, but Alexander was a vengeful man and he could punish everyone for Roxanna's reckless actions.

There was no limit to what Alexander could do. Not when it came to (Y/N).

They needed to be careful.

Oxyartes dismissed the servants and helped Roxanna to her feet.

She trembled in her father’s arms and he touched her face, his touch gentle, a contrast to the anger that shone in his eyes.

"I-I'm sorry, father..." She whispered, her voice weak.

"It's okay, my little star," He said, caressing her cheek tenderly. "Everything will be fine."

But the way he was looking at her, his eyes so full of anger and disappointment, Roxanna knew that nothing would be fine. She had made a terrible mistake.

One that could cost her, them, everything. And he would have to discipline her properly.

#yandere history #yandere historical characters #x reader #the lost queen #tlq #yandere x reader #alexander the great x reader #yandere alexander the great #yandere alexander the great x reader #commission #imagine #yandere au #💻 anon

276 notes · View notes

angelltheninth · 2 months ago

Text

Cold Hard Touch

Pairing: Darth Maul x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, creampie, rough sex, being pinned down, name-calling, objectification

Word count: 0.9k

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters | Commissions

A/N: So... how about that Maul show that got announced? How about that, chat?! Enjoy, comment, reblog, all that good stuff!

Most people would run, or at least try to stay out of Maul's way when they heard he was approaching. You did the opposite, you always ran up to meet him, to wait to get a hug and a kiss. It wasn't for lack of self-preservation instinct or some sort of death wish you had, no it was simply the deal you made with him.

You've seen Maul in all of his moods. You've seen him happy, sad, angry, indifferent. No matter what his mood he always fucked you unconscious. Never before has he looked so pissed off. You knew he could be scary but now, as he loomed over you, his hands bruising your hips, his eyes burning into yours and his hips smacking into you over and over.

"It hurts doesn't it? I know it does. But you handle it. It's what I keep you around for." Maul snarled at you as he pinned you down onto the bed, it's warmth and softens contrasting his cold, hard tough.

The only other warmth was his cock, pulsing and getting harder the longer he kept going. You didn't want him to slow down. You wanted to see if he could go even harder, how far he would go before you needed to scream at him to stop, that you couldn't take anymore.

No one had ever brought you to the brink like this before. You wanted to be absolutely ruined and used by him.

As if sensing your desire he grinned in a smug way, pounding away at you until all that was heard in the room were your moans, his grunts and growls, and the lewd sound of slick flesh slapping against each other. "Maul, fuck... I need more, more of you, now."

"More? Then will you honor your agreement, let me use you all night? Use this pretty, tight, warm pussyhole as my cumtoy?" His words made you jolt, your cunt squeezing tight on his cock, making it harder for him to pull out entirely, "Sure you will. It's what you're good for. The only thing you're good for. How many times have you let me use this hole, how many times have you waited for me to come back and fuck you senseless because no other can satisfy you anymore?"

"Countless." You admit with no hesitation as your body starts to tremble and you feel your orgasm approaching, "I need you. You're the only one who can make me come. So please, please. Please let me."

"I love it when you beg. But you know... toys don't get a saying." You felt pressure descending on you, a familiar kind of pain coiling in your lower belly. He was stopping you by using the Force. And yet he was still going, picking up speed and ferocity.

"Not fair, you're not being fair Maul." You clawed at his back, leaving marks on his marks. Maul laughed, still keeping you on the edge.

He forced you to wait, to stay in that limbo of pleasure and anticipation, even as he roared and spilled his cum inside of you he kept you unable to finish. "That's my good toy. Take my cum, take it all like the whore that you are. Take it and beg for more. Beg me to let you come. Earn it you hear me, earn it."

You felt like you were going to explode form the inside if he let you go, if he allowed the build up to release. At the same time you couldn't take any more teasing, any more being kept in this state of limbo. "Let me come. Make me come. I'll let you use me all night if you do. Please... master."

Maul laughed at your desperation, jackhammering his cock into your needy pussyhole again and again and finally let you have your release. It washed over you like a tidal wave, flooding and overwhelming your senses, your body snapping tight like a cord. "I think you're mistaken in thinking you had a say in the matter. I was going to use you anyway. Me letting you come this quickly was a mercy. I find your cunt calming you see, even when I feel like I'm boiling with rage I can sink into it and fuck you for hours."

Hours, days, even it were mere minutes you were glad to be called his in that time. You couldn't deny him or say that he was incorrect. Every word he spoke was the truth. You loved him being angry, you loved him fucking his anger out with you, trusting you with it, yet never going so far as to actually break you.

"How long will you be staying?" You ask a little breathless, hand thrown over your face and gasping for breath.

Maul hummed, his grip letting up, his fingers dancing on your sweaty skin, "A few days. I have a mission again soon but I figured it would be a good idea to release some stress before then."

"And how you plan on using me for all those days." You whisper into the small space between you two. The answer comes in form of his cock slowly hardening again inside of you, getting ready for another round of rough pounding, "Let's see if you can manage to break me this time." If there was one thing Maul absolutely relished it was a good challenge. So far you'd been his favorite one, "Gladly.

#star wars x reader #maul x reader #darth maul x reader #star wars imagine #maul imagine #darth maul imagine #star wars fanfiction #maul fanfiction #darth maul fanfiction #star wars smut #maul smut #darth maul smut #star wars x you #maul x you #darth maul x you #star wars x female reader #maul x female reader #darth maul x female reader #x female reader

160 notes · View notes

lockes-woods · 9 months ago

Text

Kinktober '24 Day 11

Request: Would love to see some Fatgum x reader breeding kink shenanigans? Fatgum’s defensive abilities would make for a great quirk marriage scenario

Requested by: CherryDad (AO3)

WARNINGS: PIV, Oral (f! Receiving), cream pie, size difference, breeding kink

A/N: This is gonna be another morning edit for sure.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You sighed to yourself as you sat perched on the edge of your couch. You could feel your anxiety manifest in your gut, as you waited for your ‘husband’ to come home from patrol. It had been just over a year since the hero commission announced their new program of forming a new hero bond for the future from preexisting ‘relations’. In so many words the hero commission was revitalizing the archaic practice of quirk marriages. Last year every hero from the top 100 heroes was sent a list of approved ‘partners’ for them to choose from. You were one of the lucky ones in that fact that you actually knew, well had known, your top approved mate.

You have a fat-based quirk, you are able to manipulate and create on a cellular level of all living things. When healing you do not only rely on the energy, and body fat, of the person you are healing, but also tap into your own energy to aid others. Based on the nature of your quirk, your top match was Fatgum, or Taishiro Toyomitsu.

You have known Taishiro since your time at UA. He was two years ahead of you, but because of the caloric nature of your quirks, you were on a strict high caloric intake. You often crossed paths when working on meal alternatives with the support lab. He had mentored you in a way, you weren’t sure if he even remembered the conversation, but he helped you feel less self-conscious about your body size. Because of the nature of your quirk, you were almost always sitting at a weight deemed ‘unhealthy’. The label of unhealthy, stuck with you so badly while you were still a teenager, that you stopped the overeating necessary to be able to use your quirk effectively. You began to work yourself to the literal bone, often passing out, just to maintain a ‘healthy’ image. When Taishiro caught wind of this, he pulled you aside and encouraged you to do everything in your power to aid the most amount of people, even if it meant being shamed by the media for encouraging an ‘unhealthy’ standards for young people. You don’t think even if he remembered the conversation he ever realized the impact that one talk had on you. Or how his kindness led to you having a not-so-small crush on him that carried onto adulthood.

You had lost touch with him after he set up his hero agency in Esuha City. While you were still on good terms and were friendly with each other you had drifted apart as people often do while growing up. You were never nailed down by any agency. You worked as an independent contractor that agencies could lease. Your nickname as the ‘One Women Hospital’ proceeded you: making you a fought-over strength to any agency. Your normal clientele were heroes in the top 10. You loved your life and independence, that was until the hero commission brought your normalcy to a halt with their sudden decision to bring back and enforce quirk marriages.

You would never feel as relieved as you were when Taishiro accepted your request of marriage. It was a huge relief off your chest of the fear of being randomly assigned to not only marry a stranger but also carry the minimum of one of their children. That’s what led you here to tonight, pacing in Tai’s home, waiting impatiently for him to get off of work. You had been married a little more than a month at this point but hadn’t consummated the marriage. Fuck, you hadn’t even kissed outside of your wedding. Coitus was only mandatory while you were ovulating like you were today.

You couldn’t help but feel uneasy. You both had been working your normal hours since the wedding, there was a silent agreement that you wouldn’t worry about the act itself until you had to. You had already pushed down your schoolgirl crush on Tai. He was one of the most genuine people you had met, and kind to a fault. Outside of his personality, he was so handsome to you in either of his forms. You hope if you were to have kids they’d inherit his lovely golden eyes and bright smile. Despite those nice images your nerves still stood strong. How would you even go about being intimate, but still remain on the same terms? That’s of course only if he wanted to have sex; technically he just had to cum inside of you. Would he want that? Just as you felt yourself bordering on a spiral you heard him entering the house.

“Hey,” he greeted with his normal chipper smile. He was in his skinny form, which while smaller than his fat form of 8’2”, was still huge. He easily towered over you standing at a minimum of 7 ft.

“Hey,” you greeted back shyly. You were in your normal lounge clothing of an oversized t-shirt paired with a well-loved pair of cotton sleep shorts and fluffy socks. You had debated dressing up special for tonight, but you didn’t want to make this any weirder than the situation already was.

“How was work?” you asked,

“Good, it was a slower day, there was only one incident of bank robbing, so I mostly just worked on paperwork.” He answered smiling down at you, “How was your day off?”

“Good, I ate at my favorite café and read for a but before going to the doctor’s.” you answered.

“How was your appointment?” he asked.

“Good, they did a blood and urine test. I’m definitely ovulating today.” You responded.

“Alright,” Taishiro nodded, “When did you want to…” he started before trailing off, both of you walking on eggshells as you attempted to not offend or make the other uncomfortable.

“I guess sooner than later,” you answered, in a noncommittal tone, “I guess we should talk about how you want to go about this. Are you okay with sex, or do you just want to cum in me-”

You stood in shock as he pulled you in for a surprisingly soft kiss. You gasp, your eyes widening, before easing shut. It felt like your brain shut off as Tai pressed you firmly against the counter and he deepened the kiss. You let him dominate the kiss, a whine escaping you as he pulled back, resting his forehead against yours.

“Fuck, sorry,” he said, panting lightly, “I couldn’t hold out any longer.” He confessed. Before he could explain any further you fisted the front of his jacket and pulled him in for an equally demanding kiss. He let out a surprised groan, melting into the kiss as he pulled you close, holding you in his arms.

“Fuck,” he groaned as you pulled back, “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.” He admitted bashfully. You hummed in response.

“It has been a long month,” you agreed.

“No, baby, I’m talking years,” he elaborated, blush staining his cheeks.

“Oh,” you said dumb found, “I didn’t-, I always thought that-, that you wouldn’t feel the same way.”

“Baby, I’ve been holding a torch for you since we met. I just didn’t want you to feel pressured when I was your senpai.” He admitted, “And then after I graduated, my biggest regret was not telling you how I felt.” He took a breath before saying, “It’s okay if you don’t feel the same-”

“How could I not feel the same way.” You cut him off with a smile, “You were my senpai, you were one of the first people to make me feel of value despite the number on the scale.”

“Fuck, you have no idea how relieved I was when I found out my top match was you,” he confessed, looking down at you fondly.

“I know we have to talk about this more, but the doctor gave us an hour window, and it’s starting soon.”

“Okay,” he nodded, there was nothing you or anyone else could do to wipe the smile off his face.

“Are you okay with us having sex?” you question.

“Baby, I’ll take whatever you give me,” he answered honestly.

“O-Okay,” you nodded your nerves returning, “Do you want to-, Or should we-, um is the bedroom okay?” you fought to get out.

“The bedroom sounds perfect love,” he replied, before scooping you up in his arms. You let out an “Eep,” as he walked up to his bedroom and softly laid you in the center of it.

“Do you have any hard stops?” he asked, tugging not only his sweatshirt over his head, but his shirt as well. You unconsciously bit your lip, taking in his toned form.

“Baby,” he said, pulling your attention back away from his body.

“Hmm?” You replied.

“I was asking if you had any hard stops,” he repeated, amused.

“Any body fluids outside of cum and spit,” You answered, “I also don’t feel comfortable with consensual non-consensual.”

“Okay,” he nodded, working at his belt.

“You?” you asked.

“The same,” he nodded, “My safe word is takoyaki. Yours?”

“Code,” you answered eyes locked in on his jeans sliding down revealing the large hard-on pressing against the front of his underwear, your eyes widened as he eased himself out of his boxer briefs. You knew objectively he was going to be big, but you didn’t realize how proportional he would be. You couldn’t help but rub your thighs together needily as he began to crawl up his bed towards you.

“Aw, are you feeling needy baby?” he asked teasingly. All you could do was let out a whine as he began helping you out of your shorts, “Can’t have my wife go unsatisfied.”

You could feel your heart rate go up at him casually call you, his wife. Normally you may find it a bit cringy, but his genuine tone made you feel butterflies. He helped you out of your shirt next, leaving you bare. He pulled you into a soft kiss, before slowly making his way down your body. He pulls a whine from your throat as he nips and sucks at your nipples. He takes his time, only making you more desperate.

“Fuck, Tai, please,” you plead with him

“Please, what love?” he asked, looking up at you with a smirk, making your stomach flip. You’d never seen his face without his sweet smile.

“Please, I need you,” you beg, “Need you so bad.”

“Oh, and where do you want me baby?” he asked, teasingly.

“Lower, please” you beg, getting more and more desperate.

“Down here?” he asked, stroking your inner thigh.

“Fuck, yes.” You said tears of frustration gathering in the corner of your eyes. You couldn’t help but moan as he separated your lower lips. A whine escaped you from the contrast of the cool air in the room and Taishiro’s hot breath against your clit. He didn’t give you any warning before he dove in. You were left a moaning mess, as his fingers stretched you to your limit, while he sucked on your clit. You threaded your fingers through his surprisingly soft hair, tugging on it hard and harder the closer you got. You let out a guttural moan tugging hard on his hair so that he was flush with your pussy. He narrowly avoided getting crushed by your thighs as he angled his shoulders to keep your thighs open. He fingered you through your orgasm, whispering prairies against your skin. Your grip loosened as you fell back onto the bed limp as you came down from your height.

“Ready, love?” he asked, wiping the excess of your release off his face with the back of his hand.

“Please,” you answer, still feeling desperate, despite just coming down from your high.

“Okay,” he said, grasping his cock to give it two hard strokes before sliding it up and down your slit to collect your excess release, before thrusting his tip inside, Taishiro hissed at his first time breaching your walls, He slowly rocks you back and forth thrusting a bit more of himself each time as he bottomed out. He stayed there for a second before you whined craving more stimulation.

“Just, can’t get enough can you love?” he teased, pulling almost all the way out before thrusting back in, knocking the wind out of you. You share a moan as he begins to pick up speed.

“Fuck,” he groaned, “Can’t wait to see you if it takes. Fuck you’re gonna be all round and plush when it comes.” You both moaned shamelessly.

“Fuck, need it Tai, fuck, need it so bad,” you blathered seconds before clenching around him in a throat. “Wanna be full, please,” you pleaded desperately. “Want it, want it so bad, please fuck. I wanna have your kids.”

“Fuck,” Taishiro groaned, His hips stuttering as he came in you. You both shared a moan, staying still for a moment before your little bubble of peace is ruined by the sound of a phone ringing. You ignore it for a moment before rolling over and seeing a slew of messages from different agencies. He pulled you tight back against his chest.

“You’re not leaving until we know it takes.” He said staring down at you; dead serious. You couldn’t help but gasp as she felt his cock once again stir against your back. He pulled you in for a loving kiss, as he eased your phone out of your hands. He quickly clicked on airplane mode, before tossing your phone aside. You let out a pleasant sigh, as your lips once again found each other and he pulled you back so you were straddling his abs once again; ready for the next round.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

MASTERLIST

A/N: K, officially broke the streak. Hoping to have this edited in the morning along with a TA! Shikamaru x Student! Reader one shot.

#bnha oneshot #bhna #fatgum #taishiro toyomitsu #fatgum x reader #warning in description #cross posted on ao3 #taishiro toyomitsu x reader

358 notes · View notes

fairestwriting · 4 months ago

Note

hellloooooo! hope you're having a good day :) i love your blog so i wanted to rq something if that's ok <3 could i request headcanons of riddle with a s/o (platonic or romantic whichever u prefer) that had a similar childhood to him and actually agreed with his strictness pre-OB? and now has to struggle through the same journey as him? tysmmm :D

𐙚 Riddle Rosehearts

You really felt understood when you first met each other, didn’t you? Being this strict can really put a barrier between you and others. He’s been trying to whip his dorm into shape by himself for almost a year now, and you might have never had this exact experience, but it’s not difficult to relate it to the times you’ve been in charge of a group.

He’s lonely, without a doubt, despite having people like Trey around, and you can likely understand that too. It’s a tragic thing, really— He actually feels happy if you’re there to back him up when people aren’t listening. No matter how much they complain about it, or how much they start gossiping about you two, or how much they try to distance themselves. It can be easy to get stuck in your own little world where the both of you are right and that’s final.

Then Ace from goes through with his idea of dueling him for the position, despite you heavily discouraging him, the overblot happens, and everything pretty much comes crashing down. You’ve been feeding into each other’s strictness for this whole time, so the truth is harder on both of you than it would be if you had never met. There’s more denial involved, ”If I was so wrong, then why would they have supported me?“ is the sort of thing going through Riddle’s mind. He almost feels betrayed when he first tries to process everything, including the reality of his upbringing that he’s tried so hard not to acknowledge. Soon the pieces of the puzzle fully come together, either by him rememberinf things you’ve said about your family life before, or you opening up to him after the incident, and your misguided support makes sense. You’re the same as him, in more than just the strictness.

You’re the same as him, too, in the way that deep down, you do know the truth. It doesn’t feel great to be that way, it never did, it didn’t even feel natural— it was just the voices that filled both your upbringings replaying in the back of your minds all along. How many times has he looked at others and wanted to be just like them? How many times have you done the same? Getting closer to that reality used to feel so impossible, so much that the pangs of jealousy would turn to disdain. And it still felt far away right now, sure, but it suddenly wasn’t unreachable anymore.

It’s awkward to talk about it, but as much as your mutual understanding may have been negative at first, when it’s time to admit that it’d be better to change, you can rely on each other. And you can do it in a way you wouldn’t be able to do with anybody else. Regardless of how off putting your beliefs may be to other people — even the well intentioned ones who want you to get better, you could always feel them judging you — you know there won’t be any judgement between the two of you.

It might take a long time to heal, even with that support, but the awareness you can grow together, that there’s no need to just suffer in silence anymore, will form a stronger bond between him and you than that previous blind agreement could have ever formed. Whether it’s a romance or a close friendship, you know you have each other’s backs in ways no other people could.

if you like my work you can support me by commissioning me or tipping me on ko-fi ── ᵎᵎ ✦

#been a while since weve done some proper angst adjacent stuff huh #twst #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #riddle rosehearts #riddle rosehearts x reader #twst imagines #twst headcanons #lis writing

154 notes · View notes

jpitha · 10 months ago

Text

Stamina

Downtime on the K’laxi Starbase, and Kelly and Evan wheel their stationary exercise bikes out into the common area and start a ride. If they're not going to be moving anyway, they might as well have a more interesting view than the wall of the exercise room. Before their commission, they both loved the outdoors, and found friendship in trying to keep their two wheeled skills.

The bikes large wheels that hum and whirr as they pedal. After a short warm up, they both get into the rhythm of motion, enjoying the feeling of their muscles being used. To help with overheating, Evan set up a fan to circulate air on them. Evan was used to short rides, but Kelly wanted him to build stamina. She was even working out how to connect a sensorium so they could ride "outside." For it to be worthwhile, she wanted a long ride, so she was trying to get him to be able to finish a century - a ride of one hundred miles (an obsolete form of measurement).

After a few moments, some K'laxi stop and watch them as they work out. Kelly and Evan, heads down as they pedal, don't seem to notice.

After half an hour or so of pedaling Evan lifted his head and looked at Kelly. “You know what I’m sick of?”

Kelly looked up from her bike. “The whole Deathworlder thing?”

Evan nodded emphatically. “Yes! I don’t think it’s fair that everyone says Earth is a Deathworld. It implies that we’re some kind of strange being. It’s othering!” Evan was gesturing with his water bottle as he spoke. The K'laxi watching were focused on the bottle being swung around, seemingly entranced by the droplets of water that Evan was flinging around.

Kelly leaned up off the handlebars, but kept pedaling. She started counting things on her fingers. “There’s plenty of other worlds that have storms, plenty of other sapient peoples that are strong, lots of places with large moons, plenty of other places like Earth.”

“Exactly! They are working so hard to fit us into a stereotype, and then they don’t have to learn about us as individuals.” Evan's water bottle was just leaking now, and droplets increased. Kelly blinked when drops hit her face. One of the K'laxi took a step back.

As they talked, the crowd grew. Deep in concentration on their ride, they didn't notice the attention that they have garnered. A Gren in the back gestured with his mouthparts, and two others joined him. A small group of Innari fluffed their feathers in agitation as they watched the humans continue to spin. Even a few humans stood on the sidelines of the crowd and grinned. They wanted to see what the others would do.

Evan and Kelly pedaled in silence for a while longer until Pen couldn't stand it any longer. His friends nudged him and whispered encouragement for him to finally speak up. “You realize you’re having this conversation, on a K’laxi Starbase, while pedaling your excise bicycles at-" He looked over at a readout on Kelly' bike "-180 watts for at least one standard hour now?”

Even looked surprised. “We’re doing a century!”

"That's when you ride continuously for 160 kilometers or so." Kelly sounded matter of fact as she reached down and took a sip from her own water bottle.

One of the Innari squawked, “You’re not even breathing heavy!” The others around them bobbed their heads in agreement.

Kelly looked over at the Innari who spoke up. When they locked eyes, the Innari looked down, their feathers flat, embarrassed. “You know what? They're right, Evan. Time to step it up.”

As Evan grinned and pedaled harder, he looked up and finally noticed the crowd that had gathered. There were maybe 10 or 12 people watching the two humans pedal without going anywhere. Some in the back were having quiet wagers about how long they could go on. A human was collecting the bets, not even trying to hide her smile.

The murmurs of the crowd finally got the better of Kelly. "Just what... are you all... doing here?" Kelly panted.

"Um.. just watching you pedal?" A young K'laxi in the front offered and took a nervous step back.

"I can see that, but why?"

"You're riding so much and you aren't even tired!" Another in the back added.

Nods and noises from assent from the crowd. They watched, fascinated as the human's active cooling started kicking in and they both developed a sheen of... liquid on their skin. They called it sweating. The K'laxi called it weird. The Innari called it disgusting.

A Gren on the side of the crowd joined in. "Yeah! How long can you go? I've got 30 stars with Mel'itar that says you can't go the full 160 kilometers without stopping."

A Sefigan near the front frowned and looked like he was having a conversation with his translator. “My translator says a century is 100, but you’re doing 160km?”

Evan sighed. “160 kilometers is 100 miles. That’s the century”

"What's a mile?" A K'laxi child from the crowd interrupted. Sounds of assent from the crowd.

"Old measurement. We don't use it anymore." Kelly finally started to sound like she was having difficultly speaking while she was exerting herself, a good while after Evan started breathing heavily.

The same Innari that spoke up earlier - Soft Autumn Breeze - stared at them out of one eye, and then the other. "You're pedaling the equivalent of one hundred sixty kilometers In one session?” It sounded like they were amazed in addition to being frustrated. Soft worked with Evan in the greenhouse, but had no idea he did... this in his spare time. It was perplexing. All this work and effort for no reason?

“Yeah” Kelly said between breaths “doesn’t count if you stop and take a break.”

Evan used his nearly empty water bottle to point at the Innari. "You're making it sound weird Soft, it's not weird."

"Evan, it is weird." Soft said, emphatically. "What you're doing is weird. You're... pretending to ride a two wheeled sapient powered conveyance on a starbase for an unreasonably long distance without stopping. If I tried that - even if you built one of those... things that fit my leg geometry, I'd collapse and die within two standard hours."

"Soft, I am riding it, it's not pretending." Evan countered.

"We're not going anywhere though, maybe that's what he means." Kelly said.

Evan shrugged. "Well, he should have said that."

By now, the crowd had started to argue about how long each species could last riding a bike. Most agreed that the humans would out-ride them full stop, but both the Gren and the Sefigans felt they could give a real challenge... for the first few hours at least. One of the humans in the crowd started taking measurements, and was designing a bike that could be printed for other species to ride. After a while a whole spin class was being set up.

Soft opened his mouth and clacked shut it again. His feathers fluttered in frustration, and he sighed dramatically. He turned around and walked away from the crowd. “Deathworlders” he muttered.

"Hey Soft, don't use that word, remember the training? The humans find it hurtful." Another Innari said as he walked by.

"Argh!" Soft stomped away as the noise of the crowd dissipated.

#writing #humans are deathworlders #humans are space orcs #sci fi writing #jpitha #humans and aliens #humans are space oddities #humans are space australians

397 notes · View notes

qierxing · 2 months ago

Text

To Ashes We Return

Commissioned by the lovely @@achromaticbibliophile Sequel to Love Duet

TW/CW: Forced confinement, Forced marriage, implied murder and death

Act 1: “Ring around the roses”

What surprised you about the land of the dead, is just how colorful it is.

Neon greens, eye searing reds, and popping blues and purples practically seeps from the decorations, banners, and buildings of the dead. The undead called out to others jovially, excited conversations rang out in the air, while they ran about to and fro. A skeletal cat even scampers past your legs in a hurry after a tiny mouse! And although you were not here of your own volition, it fascinated you how everything just seemed so alive.

Yet, in Riddle’s residence, it was the complete opposite.

Everything within its walls is gray: the wallpaper, the framed portraits that lined the walls, and even the flowers within vases that decorated the scattered tables. Like all the color had been sucked out entirely. When you looked out the tall arched windows, even the garden only had bone white roses blooming on hedges, trees, and plants.

“My mother’s garden,” when you asked Riddle about it. “She enjoyed looking at roses very much.”

“Where is she?” you wondered out loud. In the time you spent down here (Seven knows how long), you have yet to see his mother.

Your probing question was answered with a pained expression from Riddle and loud coughs from Trey and Cater.

When you woke up, dazed and confused to a ceiling that was definitely not your own, Trey and Cater were the ones to show you around.

“Let me know if you need something.” Trey pats your head with a tilt of his own. “Riddle told all of us to make you feel comfortable the best we can.” Cater gives a hum of agreement, but before you can even say anything, they both melt away when your name is called. Riddle stands at attention at the end of the hall, steel grays affixed onto your form with an intensity that sends shivers down your form.

“Would you take a turn around the garden with me, (Name)?” Riddle’s request is not meant to be optional, and so you take his arm and follow reluctantly.

Walking amongst the white roses feels rather depressing. You make it about several steps into the walk before boredom overtakes you, making you instinctively reach out to run your fingers over the skeletal petals.

Crunch!

You draw back your hand rapidly. Riddle answers your surprised look with a nod.

“They’re not real. Nothing organic can be grown in the land of the dead, after all.” The explanation leaves you both unsettled and rather sad. Perhaps that’s why the rest of the realm practically screamed with colors, because they could no longer see the world above with theirs.

The rest of the walk is quiet after that revelation, and Riddle leaves with a chaste kiss on your knuckles, murmuring something about preparations. You’re about to head back in, when curiosity comes back to nip at your heels.

Making sure no one’s watching you, you pluck a white rose clean off a hedge and realize what that sound you heard was. The rose crumples into your hand and flattens under the pressure of your fingers flattening it out. The sterile white paper is wrinkled now, no longer resembling any kind of rose or flower. One by one, the papers fall like snowflakes to your feet as you rip more and more flowers off shrubbery. Like a child discovering a new toy, you could not stop yourself.

It’s on the last rose that you found something strange.

January 4th, 18XX

I’m glad the family business is prospering, but I don’t like the look in my parent’s eyes. There’s a greed I cannot fathom in them, and I fear it is blinding them to dangers beyond their comprehension.

The handwriting is in neat cursive, the words scrawled elegantly yet still legible to those who read it. It’s oddly…humble. You turn over the paper, but find nothing else. Curious…

“[First]?” You quickly shove the paper into your pocket and turn to see Cater who looks at the carnage you wrought upon the roses.

“You know cutie, I get that you’re frustrated but the poor things didn’t deserve that, don’tcha think?” He visibly cringes at the papers littering at your feet. “Riddle’s gonna pitch a fit if he sees this.”

“Sorry, couldn’t help myself,” you say sheepishly. You do feel bad causing trouble for him, especially when you knew he was the one helping clean up after situations.

“Well, it’s all right cutie, if you help me out?” He winks at you, and you oblige hurriedly.

As you clean up the papers, you catch a glimpse of ink lines on a rose you had discarded earlier.

Before Cater could notice the anomaly, you discreetly fold it and slide it into your pocket alongside the other paper.

Act 2: “Pockets full of Posy”

February 14th, 18XX

I don’t want to get married.

You furrow your eyebrows. There’s nothing else written on the paper. For a brief moment, you considered secret codes. The paper crinkles as you try to lift it up, and you give up on the idea. You don’t want to accidentally end up destroying an antique memory like this.

You shuffle through the papers, before giving up and folding them back into their original rose shape. Although the contents were intriguing, they were not helpful in your attempts to return back to the land of the living. And with the card soldiers always monitoring you in Riddle’s absence, it meant that you couldn’t even step outside his mansion without one of them tailing you.

But perhaps, there could be an advantage to this.

“Ace? Deuce?” you try cautiously.

Nothing. Then–

“Boo~” hot breath puffs into your ear, making your heart stop.

“Can you not?!” you whip around and glare at Ace who only smirks back and slides with his arms behind his head in a lackadaisical manner. Deuce only sheepishly gives you a look of sympathy by his side.

“What can we do for you, [Name]?” Deuce asks, stifling a chuckle behind a cough.

You only narrow your eyes at them with an unimpressed look.

“Can I go outside if you guys come with me?”

The two of them exchange looks. Ace’s eyebrow raises at you judgmentally.

“Sure. Just know you’re not allowed on the outskirts.” He drawls, clearly not enthused with being tasked to follow you around.

“The outskirts?”

“Things get dicey over there,” Deuce explains. “Lots of instability. Plus it’s where–mmph!”

Ace slaps a hand over Deuce’s mouth before he can finish, glaring at him pointedly. Deuce realizes his mistake, coughs and removes Ace’s palm with an annoyed huff.

“Point being, it’s dangerous.” Ace finishes decidedly, clearly wanting the conversation to end there.

“Oooookay?” You respond as blandly as possible, trying not to show your mind whirling at the implications of Deuce’s words.

The two thankfully seem satisfied at your response, and the three of you head out. As much as you love the duo, you thank the Seven they’re not the brightest of the card soldiers (you know the point and dash technique would not have worked with Trey or Cater), and you manage to separate yourself from their watch as easy as pie.

In contrast with the main area of the realm of the dead, the outskirts (at least, you hope it is the outskirts) of the land of the dead are desolate and monochrome. It stretches endlessly into the horizon, like an ocean of ash.

“You.” A stern voice immediately commands your attention, making your back straighten instinctively.

The undead who addresses you is a dignified sort, wearing an old fashioned gown with a high collar and a suffocating looking bodice, elegant crimson velvet draping down into a bustle that trails behind her (you presume it’s a her). In stark contrast with the fabric, blood red roses were pinned to the skirts, making it look like a garden was blooming at her very feet. She looks exactly like an old noble from the history books. Her face is twisted into a hateful scowl, flesh only covering enough of her cheeks to show muscles twitching in agitation.

“What are you doing here?” She’s evidently not pleased to see you here, even if you’re not sure why. “Is it not enough that you condemned me and my son? Now you’re galavanting out like a harlot, I see!”

Her voice is rough like sandpaper, as if she had screamed herself hoarse. You blink rapidly as she lashes tirade after tirade upon your confused self. The words are venomous barbs, but they all bounce off your confused brain, as you’re not entirely sure this undead was sane. You’re about to interrupt her when someone else does that for you.

“Madame,” Trey’s low voice makes you shudder.

You’ve never heard him sound this angry, and his thick brows are furrowed deeply into a disapproving frown, making his entire face look menacing. When he comes to stand in front of you protectively, the undead flinches too.

“Please stop this. They are not who you think they are, Madame,” Trey calmly responds, not a single change in his stern expression. “It was an honest mistake that they strayed here.”

She looks at you again, sharp eyes scanning you again before realizing something. Her face furrows into confusion.

“What is a living person doing in this realm?” Her eyes pierce through you, as if searching for someone she knew.

“That is not under my authority to disclose, Madame,” Trey responds cooly. But this does not quell the lady’s suspicions. She takes another long stare before a revelation comes to her rotting face.

Her eyes cut into Trey. “You are going to have that thing marry Riddle?!”

Trey doesn’t meet her glare. Instead, he turns around and begins to usher you away. You forget how much strength he has, when he’s able to still drag you even when you dig your feet into the ground.

“Mark my words, they will never be able to make Riddle happy!” Bitter rage coats every word echoing after you two. Despite the fact her voice is hoarse that it comes out as a wheeze, you can still clearly hear the defiant statement. “Not in life, nor in death!”

Her last declaration makes the hair on your neck raise. What the hell–?

However, she doesn’t chase after the two of you. Silence accompanies the both of you as his arm wrapped around your shoulders moves you forward. The guilt you had for disobeying Riddle is overridden by the curiosity of what you just heard in the past few minutes.

“Who was that?” You asked. Trey’s grip tightens, before loosening again.

“You don’t have to worry about her. She’s not going to be a problem.” He finally says.

“That’s not what I asked.”

Trey shakes his head, making you purse your lips. It’s all too quickly that you’re shoved back into Ace and Deuce’s care (they scolded you thoroughly for duping them) and herded straight back into Riddle’s gloomy mansion and into your room where you were locked in.

Another dead end. You groan. You don’t know how much time you had left before Riddle forced your hand. You’re about to flop straight back into the bed to rest when something catches your eye at the vanity.

A perfect white rose lays upon the wooden surface. When you unfold it, the ink is blotted by some kind of liquid, making it hard to read.

February 24th, 18XX

The ceremony date has been set.

Act 3: “Ashes, Ashes, we All Fall Down!”

They left you unattended in the dressing room.

Not out of respect, but because if you did try to escape again, there would only be one exit: the door outside which is conveniently locked and guarded by other undead.

Of course, you checked the room to see if there was anything else: hidden doors, secret passageways that could possibly lead you out of this hell. But they were thorough, and not even a single opening was let slip.

You’re getting tired of this.

You glance over at the vanity. Perhaps if you can’t find a way out, then it might be best to explore other avenues. A glass shard might not be much to an undead, but it'll be a weapon of a kind.

Before you can smash the glass however, you spot a speck of white. Something is jammed into the vanity mirror’s bronze edge. When you investigate, you find it to be a crumpled paper. Another one of these? Taking care to not rip it as you extract it from the mirror, you open it up to find another journal page.

March 15th, 18XX

There’s no going back now. The townspeople are on my side. The Rosehearts have been a plague upon us ever since they came here. And although I feel sorry for the son, I don’t want to be trapped. May the Seven forgive my selfishness.

Rosehearts? Your mind clicks. Isn’t that Riddle’s surname?

Looking at the paper again, you realize there’s more written on the back. The once elegant penmanship is now near illegible, the writing so shaky that the ink blots in certain points where the writer pushed their pen too hard.

They’ve gone mad but the deed is done. We were lucky the poison worked quickly. The Rosehearts are no more. But I did not foresee that Riddle’s men would get caught up in the scheme…the card soldiers’ families are in an uproar, and I cannot blame them. I fear that whatever comes will end in a bloodbath within the town if something is not done.

With the Red Queen as my witness, I swear upon the (Last) name to make things right again. I will not let more blood be shed upon these lands.

The mention of your surname has you reeling. This was your relative? But who? And they knew Riddle? Your mind suddenly flashed back to the undead noble lady whose hoarse voice sounded like her throat had been scorched.

“Is it not enough that you condemned me and my son?!”

Her eyes, her disposition, her outfit, how could you not see it? She had looked at you and saw someone–someone that resembled you and had sent her here. Then could it be that–?

A knock interrupts your racing thoughts and you spin to see Ace and Deuce grinning at you.

“Looking good!” Ace whistles, making you bristle instinctively.

“The ceremony is about to start,” Deuce says nervously, cheeks pink with embarrassment. “Trey told us to escort you there.”

Your mind is rushing through the information you just processed that you barely register Ace and Deuce’s arms wrapped around yours securely (in case you ran away) and leading you out. In a morbid twist, they are the ones walking you down the aisle, an occasion that was meant to be happy, now filled with a sense of doom.

At the end of the aisle, Riddle, in his prim white suit, beams excitedly at your appearance.

“You look lovely, my dear,” he whispers in your ear. You only grimace in response.

“Dearly departed, we’re gathered here today–” the undead priest begins to intone with his scraggly voice.

You check your peripherals. Undead is all you can see, filling the church seats and staring expectantly at you two. The aisle could be possible, but if people stopped you from the seats, you would be surrounded instantly. And Riddle’s groomsmen lined right in a perfect line behind the two of you. You doubt you would be able to make it past them as well.

“The groom and bride may exchange their vows.” You snap back to the present as Riddle practically glows with excitement.

“With this hand, I will lift your sorrows,” Riddle begins earnestly. His right hand reaches out and you reluctantly take it. He leads you to the altar. Upon it sat several items: a lit iron candelabra, a bouquet of red roses, and lastly, a goblet made out of weathered gold. A suspicious looking purple liquid fills the inside, bubbling ominously.

“Your cup will never empty, for I will be your wine.” Riddle raises the candle in his left hand and lights it with the candelabra. “With this candle, I will light your way in darkness.”

Trey quickly appears at your side and shoves a candlestick into your own hands just in time with Riddle’s words. In one smooth movement, he lights the wick with his own.

He turns to look at you, and for once, there is something warm and fuzzy in those cold gray eyes. Like a newborn baby just learning to see the world. It’s unsettling. He bites his lips, an imperfect expression upon his usually composed face.

“My mother wanted the best for me.” Riddle confessed tightly. “But it didn’t mean she knew everything.”

“Stop this, Riddle,” you say in a low voice. The audience is murmuring. Riddle going off script with his vows is miraculous enough, but perhaps you can find one last sliver of rationale within him.

But he ignores your quiet plea. “I’ve spent so long wondering why I couldn’t move on, if it was just an arranged loveless marriage.”

“Riddle–”

“And now, I know why!” He interrupts you, taking the bouquet of roses from the altar and dramatically offering them to you.

“I longed for love, and now, I have found the one for me.” His face makes you recoil. It’s filled with all the endearment and adoration one could have for their lover, and yet, it makes you sick. The shade of the red roses reminds you of blood and you have to hold back the bile rising in your throat.

“Riddle, you are dead,” each word is punctuated in a desperation to make him understand. “I am alive. Do you realize how crazy this–this delusion is?! I cannot marry you!”

“Well, that is what this is for, is it not?” Your head whips to the priest who gestures carelessly to the gold goblet. The purple liquid bubbles at the priest’s words. You taste bile at the back of your throat.

“No, you can’t–” A firm grip encircles your wrist.

“With this ring, I ask you to be mine.” Cold metal slips onto your ring finger despite your struggle.

Riddle gives you a slow smile as you wrench your hand back, but no matter what you do, the ring. Just. Won’t. Come off. You’re too preoccupied with trying to get the damn thing off when your arms are seized and held back. Trey and Cater murmur soft apologies as Riddle draws closer with the goblet and with growing horror, you realize just too late what he was going to do.

As the liquid is forced down your throat, it burns through your esophagus as it winds its way down like a poisonous snake. And as your blood slows and your heart stops, you see Riddle grin widely, rotten flesh just barely holding together.

“I love you, my dearest.”

#yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twst #yandere x reader #my works

80 notes · View notes

captainmalewriter · 1 year ago

Text

Superstar

Commission Story

“Dude check out my sweet pump! I swear to God I’m getting bigger!”

Xavier was checking himself out in the mirror while his best friend Carlos sketched something on a legal pad on the nearby living room couch. Carlos stopped drawing for a brief second and looked over at Xavier with lazy eyes.

“Yeah man, you’re getting real massive now,” Carlos lied. Xavier’s bicep looked exactly the same as the last time he checked. “Maybe I’ll ask you to spot me the next time I go for a PR.”

“Alright alright, cut the crap,” Xavier rolled his sleeves back down. “I can do without the teasing, thanks.”

“No I’m serious, X! You’re starting to look like me! C’mon, let’s compare sizes real quick.”

Carlos hopped off the couch and joined Xavier before the full-body mirror. He then took off his shirt in one smooth motion and flexed his muscular torso.

Having been in various sports throughout his life, Carlos boasted an impressive physique. He had strong, broad shoulders and absolute cannons for arms. Carlos took up most of the mirror space when he posed, which forced Xavier to step to the side. Having seen the same body repeatedly throughout the years, Xavier was no longer impressed by his friend’s athletic build.

“Nah, you’re still pretty small.”

Xavier poked Carlos at his side, where he knew he was most ticklish. Carlos jabbed Xavier in retaliation. Xavier returned the hit in kind. They would then continue exchanging blow for blow, hitting each other’s ticklish spots until one of them eventually called uncle. This was a game they frequently played ever since they first became friends.

Carlos and Xavier had first met in middle school when they sat next to each other in art class. They formed a homework pact soon after first meeting each other. Xavier helped Carlos with his science homework, while Carlos helped Xavier with his drawing assignments. Their mutual agreement led to them becoming best friends. On the outside, they looked like a stereotypical duo that would typically be at odds— Xavier being the scrawny, gay nerd while Carlos was the conventionally handsome, popular athlete, but anyone who knew either of them knew they had a lot of love for each other. Nowadays, even though they attended different colleges, they would still make time to hang out with each other often. Theirs was a friendship that survived the test of time.

“Alright alright, enough!! You win!” Xavier called out. They were both out of breath and red in the face after roughhousing, but that didn’t stop them from sharing a laugh and a bro hug.

Their loud, combined laughter stopped them from noticing when Carlos’ father, Enrique, arrived home from work. Enrique looked at them with a scowl plastered on his face. Xavier and Carlos both immediately stopped laughing when they noticed him. Carlos felt a cool breeze on his exposed skin, then hurried to put on his shirt, remembering he was shirtless.

“Dad!” Carlos said while slipping his shirt back on. “You’re home early—”

“What are you still doing here? Shouldn’t you be at summer practice already?”

“Not yet I don’t, practice doesn’t even start for another two hours!”

“What kind of loser talk is that?” Enrique crossed his arms and shook his head in disappointment. “How do you expect to stay ahead of everyone else if you’re not out on the field putting in the extra hours?”

“I’m fine, Dad, I don’t need extra practice hours.”

“Psh, that’s how it always starts. First, you stop going to practice early. Next, you stop going at all. Then, you start getting less and less playing time because you’re not playing as good as you once were. You’re going to lose your scholarship, Carlitos, is that what you want!?”

Xavier noticed Carlos’ eyebrows beginning to furrow and stepped in before he could respond.

“Hey, let’s just get going. Don’t wanna catch the midday traffic after all.”

Xavier helped himself out while Carlos lagged behind. Carlos gave his father one last cold stare, then began walking out. Enrique stepped towards him as he did so.

“And I want you to stop hanging out around that queer. He’s going to make you weak.”

Carlos stopped once he heard what his father whispered into his ear. He couldn’t believe what he had heard. He wanted to retaliate but couldn’t find the words to do so. All he could do was listen to his father’s dress shoes echoing down the hallway as he left. Carlos cleared his throat and went for his car, where Xavier was already waiting in the passenger seat.

The car ride to Carlos’ college, where summer practice was being held, started off silent and tense. Xavier looked over to his buddy as he drove them down the freeway. He knew Carlos wasn’t the type to show his emotions often, but he knew the dilemma over rugby and his father was eating him alive inside.

“Hey… Sorry about your Dad. He sucks.”

“Hmph, don’t be. You know he’s always been like that, I’m used to it,” Carlos responded.

“I know, but that doesn’t mean you have to keep putting up with it. You need to tell him that you wanna pursue art.”

“It’s not that easy—”

“Why not?”

“Dude, c’mon, you know my Dad doesn’t give a fuck about my art. He just wants me to focus on rugby so I can keep my scholarship.”

“Well, can’t you just switch your program of study? He doesn’t have to know!” Xavier teased. Carlos didn’t laugh.

“Can’t. The school won’t allow it. Student athletes can only be in certain programs and art isn’t one of them.”

Xavier wanted to offer a rebuttal but couldn’t think of anything they hadn’t already considered. He stayed quiet and shrunk into the leather cushion of the passenger seat.

“You know, maybe my Dad’s right,” Carlos started. “There are worse things in life than being forced to play rugby. Besides, imagine all the money I’ll earn once I go pro. Maybe sticking with sports is the right call.”

“Dude, what about your art? Art can make you money too! I’ve seen your drawings and paintings, you’ve got talent! You can make it big, even bigger than with rugby!”

“You don’t know that,” Carlos sighed heavily as he stopped at a red light coming off the freeway. “I’m not saying I’ll stop drawing completely, but maybe that shouldn’t be the focus of my life right now. I need to stay in perfect shape if I wanna go pro with rugby.” Carlos turned his head to Xavier and held eye contact with him. His gaze softened.

“I appreciate you looking out for me, X, but I really don’t think art is in the cards for me. It’s gonna take a miracle to change my Dad’s mind, and I just don’t think it’s gonna happen.”

Xavier stayed quiet but gave an affirming nod, then looked away. As they pulled into campus, he pointed to the library.

“Drop me off there, I wanna check out some books,” Xavier said. Carlos did as requested.

“You’ve been hanging out at the library a lot lately. You’re not even a student here, what are you doing there?”

“Your school’s got an interesting collection on the history of alchemy, so I’ve been reading it. Nothing special, really.”

Xavier lied. For the past few months, Xavier hadn’t been studying the history of alchemy but rather how to practice alchemy. While he had started his research with a rudimentary understanding of medieval chemistry, Xavier soon discovered that alchemy could be used for way more things besides the old and tired turn-metal-into-gold gimmick. A sly smile formed on Xavier’s face as he finished reading the last alchemy book in the library collection. With a careful hand and enough determination, he could transform anything into anything! Including the human body.

Xavier was ready to put his knowledge into practice that very same night. Against Enrique’s wishes, Carlos let his best friend sleep in their spare room for the night. While they were sound asleep, Xavier’s mind was racing with all the possibilities the world of alchemy had opened up for him.

Once he finally settled on a plan, he went into action. Xavier crept into Carlos’ room while he was snoring peacefully. He tiptoed slowly, careful not to wake him up, and kneeled beside his bed.

“Alright… Just five minutes then I get out… For the sake of science, nothing more…”

Xavier reached out to Carlos and pulled down his white undershirt. Then, with the tip of his pointer finger, he drew a heart right over his actual heart. He whispered an incantation as he did so. Once he finished tracing the outline of a heart, Xavier lifted his finger and then firmly pressed the center of Carlos’ heart. As soon as he had done so, Carlos’ snoring immediately ceased. It worked. Xavier successfully transformed him into a bodysuit.

While Xavier was overjoyed that his little alchemy experiment had worked, he knew he had no time to celebrate. Xavier had no idea how long the transformation would hold so he hurried to put the Carlos bodysuit on.

He pried the bodysuit’s mouth wide open then stuck his face inside. Xavier pushed his way down Carlos’ throat. The bodysuit’s internal fluids acted as lubrication for Xavier’s body as he slithered his way inside. He could hear all the slippery, wet noises Carlos’ body was making as it expanded to take in another human body. It was a tight squeeze but with enough force, Xavier was able to force himself into Carlos’ body with one final push. He was in.

Nrrghh…

Xavier heard a moan as he laid inside the bodysuit. He wasn’t sure if it was him or the bodysuit, though that was the least of his worries. Xavier began to stretch his limbs out from inside of Carlos. As his limbs slipped into Carlos’ limbs like sleeves, the once limp bodysuit sprang to life. Slowly but surely, Xavier was able to move and feel through Carlos’ body.

Urghhhh fuckk!!

Xavier let out a loud moan from within Carlos as his senses adjusted to their new body. All at once, he felt the sudden shift in body weight thanks to all the muscle mass Carlos had. Xavier smirked as he ran his hands down his newly obtained firm pecs and chiseled abs. The light body hair brushed against his fingertips, sending electric, sensual sensations as he explored his borrowed muscular body.

Mmmm fuck yeah…

Xavier purred with Carlos’ voice as he continued checking out his new body. He kept a wide grin as he did so. Xavier could hardly believe how much of a success his little alchemy experiment was. Movement… speech… feeling, Xavier controlled it all!

Even though Xavier was already very familiar with Carlos’ well-toned body, being able to see it from an up close perspective spurred great excitement and pleasure. The tent forming in his sweatpants was a testament to that. Xavier looked at his growing boner with a devilish smirk. He wanted nothing more than to grab and massage his cock, but decided against it. After all, 15 minutes had already passed and he swore he’d only allow himself five minutes.

Xavier laid back down in bed and let himself out of his borrowed body. He was ejected from Carlos’ body with a loud slurp, leaving an empty bodysuit behind in the bed. Xavier looked down at the limp bodysuit as his senses readjusted. He was worried about possible side effects, but was relieved when Carlos began snoring again after a few minutes had passed. Thankfully, the bodysuit technique he had performed on him seemed to be temporary. Xavier went back to the guest room and practically collapsed on the bed due to fatigue. Performing alchemy and taking on a new body left him physically and mentally exhausted.

Xavier woke up late the next day. Despite having slept in, he was sore and with body aches, most likely due to the bodysuit experiment he had pulled during the night. Xavier stretched and rolled out of bed, wondering who he would use alchemy on next. He had woken up so late that Carlos was already gone for rugby practice, leaving him alone with Enrique.

Enrique was busy working out in the back. He was only wearing a pair of shorts, sunglasses, and a hat. Even from inside the house, Xavier saw how sweaty Enrique was from doing yard work in the hot sun. He watched Enrique toiling away with a hoe for a few minutes.

“Hm… He’s not a bad option for a bodysuit. Thicker body type, some muscle, lots of body hair, full beard… Yeah, he could definitely be some fun to take over for a spin…”

Then quickly retreated into the hallway when he saw him coming inside. He refused to interact with a man he knew hated him. From the safety of the hallway, Xavier watched Enrique as he took a break on the couch. Enrique noticed Carlos’ notebook sitting on the coffee table and audibly groaned in disapproval.

“I told him he needs to stop drawing… All this art bullshit is gonna get in the way of his focus! I need to hide this before he gets back home.” Enrique leaned his head back against the couch cushions and closed his eyes. All while not even noticing that Xavier was glaring at him with a growing vengeful lust.

Any hesitation Xavier had had disappeared when he heard Enrique’s plan. It was a simple plan with amazing benefits: Xavier would get to try out a dad bod, and because it was Enrique he’d be wearing, he could become his best friend’s dad and help him follow his dream of becoming an artist. It was a win-win situation!

Xavier waited a couple of minutes to make sure Enrique’s guard was down, then proceeded to take action. He crawled up to the couch and quietly positioned himself over Enrique. He then gently placed his finger on Enrique’s exposed chest and began outlining a heart, just like he had done with Carlos. Xavier’s finger practically glided along his chest because of how sweaty he was.

Hrmph… Hrm? What the—

Shit!!

Xavier was hoping Enrique had fallen asleep, but he was wrong. He was wide awake. Xavier finished performing the bodysuit ritual as quickly as he could. He managed to complete the ritual before Enrique could fight back. Enrique began transforming into a bodysuit. In a state of panic, Xavier hurried to put him on. He pushed his head into the mouth of the bodysuit and began forcing his way into Enrique’s body. He thought he was in the clear, but then he felt a rubbery hand holding him by the neck.

What are you doing!? Get out of me!!

Xavier heard Enrique’s voice rejecting his presence. He was shocked. He didn’t think someone could resist body invasion once they started turning into a bodysuit. It seemed like Enrique was a fighter! But so was Xavier. Xavier caught a whiff of Enrique’s sweaty musk as he fought his way in. The strong, masculine smell ignited a powerful lust inside of Xavier. He craved more and he was going to make sure he got it no matter what.

Xavier used his full strength to push himself in. Thankfully, although Enrique resisted against him, he was still turning into a bodysuit. The longer it went on, the less of a fight Enrique was able to put up. Xavier crawled his way inside of the dad bodysuit. Enrique’s body expanded and distorted as Xavier’s presence filled up the inside space. With one last burst of energy, Xavier was swallowed up by the bodysuit. The bodysuit began thrashing around on the couch as Xavier began stretching his limbs out into Enrique’s limbs.

Umphh… Stop…! Ughhnnn…

Enrique felt himself getting taken over by the young gay man as it happened. He absolutely hated the thought of it. He felt Xavier’s hands fill in his own hands like a well-fitting glove. He felt the same full sensation with his legs and feet. One finger at a time, one toe at a time, Enrique was completely powerless to fight against Xavier’s growing control over his body. And the worst part of it all was how good Enrique felt having someone wear him like a suit. As Xavier filled in the bodysuit from the inside, was hitting nerve endings Enrique didn’t even know he had. It sent shocks of pleasure that left Enrique jolting and moaning obscenely. His manhood was hardening and leaking precum from all the stimulation.

Aarrghhh fuckkkk!!

Xavier growled out with Enrique’s voice. He slipped his own cock into Enrique’s growing member like a personal dick sleeve, sending another wave of ecstasy throughout their shared body. An unwanted smirk formed on Enrique’s face once Xavier gained full control over his body. It was over.

Hey! Stop that!! Get your hands off my dick!!

“No way man! This cock’s mine now!!” Xavier teased. He made Enrique’s hands paw at their protruding package.

He then grabbed and lowered Enrique’s shorts with lightning speed. Enrique’s cock was at full mast and sprung out once it was released. Xavier whistled with delight as he admired his new cock. Enrique had a cock that was as thick as a beer can with a big tip and an unkempt bush of pubic hair too. After thrashing around from getting taken over, Enrique’s body was drenched and glistening with sweat. With a horny grin, Xavier lifted his arm and aired out his sweaty pit hair. The potent smell immediately filled his nostril. He leaned into his pit and took a deep sniff of his musk. The manly aroma fed his arousal, and made his already erect cock to grow even harder and longer.

Stop it! That’s gross!!

Xavier groaned when he heard Enrique complaining from inside his head.

“Are you sure, big guy? Seems like you’re into it too!” Xavier waved his erect member around, causing precum to drip around his hairy thighs.

Once Enrique quieted down again, Xavier decided to indulge. He leaned his face back into his ripe armpit and used his tongue to sip a few droplets of salty sweat hanging off his pit hair. He then took another few whiffs of his sweaty scent, groaning as he did so, then ran his fingers down his hairy torso. He stopped momentarily at his nipples to pinch them. Xavier loved the pain sensation jolting through his chest as he pinched his sensitive nipples. His hands continued slithering down until they finally reached his leaking manhood. Xavier ran his fingers through his new bush. His fingers got caught in the forest of thick, black hair. Xavier smirked as he tugged on his bush while his other hand began pumping his throbbing member— all while Enrique was conscious of him moving around with his body.

“Nrghh… fuck man!! Nghhh this feels so good…”

Xavier moaned loudly as he jerked off, much to Enrique’s dismay. Enrique couldn’t do anything but complain as Xavier had free reign over his body. Everytime he protested, Xavier moaned louder and louder until he stopped again.

This continued for about another five minutes until Xavier felt himself getting close. Once Xavier felt it, he grabbed his throbbing member with both hands and stroked ferociously. His pecs were bouncing up and down with every pump. He was dripping sweat everywhere from how intensely he was jerking off. Then, at the moment of climax, Xavier threw his head back and let out a sensual gasp as load after load of warm cum came shooting out of him like a fire hydrant. His cock was twitching and throbbing until every last load was pumped out of his heavy balls.

Xavier was breathing heavily. All of the body hair on his upper body became drenched and sticky with all the sweat and cum. He laid on the couch satisfied and completely relaxed, until he heard the garage door opening. Carlos was home.

“Oh fuck, not now!”

Xavier sprang to his feet and hurried to clean up after himself. He threw on his shorts and used nearby napkins to dry off his bodily fluids. No matter how hard Xavier tried, it made no difference. The couch was still soaking wet and he was still red in the face after his little tugging session, but it would have to do for now.

Carlos walked into the living room as soon as Xavier finished throwing away the evidence of what had happened.

“Hey Dad,” Carlos said.

“Hey… Son. How was practice?” Xavier said with a nervous stutter.

“It was fine, I guess.”

“Hey man, that’s really good to hear! I’m proud of you!”

“Yeah… thanks.” Carlos looked at him with a confused expression. He couldn’t access his mind even though he had perfect control over Enrique’s body. Without access to his memories, Xavier had to guess what Enrique would say. He was in uncharted territory, and he was terrified.

Carlos!! Hijo! Help me!! Your weird friend is controlling my body!!

Enrique was still shouting in Xavier’s head. Irritated, Xavier accidentally responded out loud.

“I swear to God will you just shut up already!?”

“I didn’t even say anything!!”

“Not you!!” Xavier looked over at Carlos. He shook his head to himself. “I’ve been feeling kind of weird today, I’m sorry.”

Carlos stood apprehensively for a brief moment, then lowered his guard again. “It’s alright, I understand. I had a really weird dream last night. I don’t feel like myself today either.” He took out a car key and offered it to Xavier. “Here, thanks for letting me borrow the truck.”

Not suspecting anything of it, Xavier tried reaching out for it. As soon as he did so, Carlos pinned against the couch.

“Fucking liar! I know it’s you in there Xavier!”

“Huh? No it’s not—”

“Save it. I know my Dad, and he would never say shit like ‘man’ or ‘I swear to God!’ What the fuck is going on!?”

“Okay okay I’ll tell you! Just let me get up first!”

Carlos did as asked. Xavier then explained everything to him. He explained how he used alchemy to turn Enrique into a bodysuit and took over his body and identity. Xavier explained that he wanted to help him pursue his dream of becoming an artist by taking over his dad’s identity. After he was done, Carlos stood up and paced around the room quietly.

“This is insane…” Carlos murmured. Xavier stayed quiet. “This is so fucking insane… And honestly? This might be the miracle I was praying for…”

Xavier was overjoyed that Carlos was on board with his plan. He pulled Carlos in for a bro hug, and after they hugged, Carlos told him to never do that again if he was going to act like his father from now on. Xavier chuckled and nodded.

“You got it, Carlitos, I’ll become an even better father than your dad ever was!” Carlos grinned.

“I’ll hold you to that, Dad.”

From then on, Xavier continued pretending to be Carlos’ father Enrique. Carlos had to teach him what to say and what not to say, but Xavier was a quick learner. Although Carlos still had to play rugby to keep his scholarship, he could finally devote more time to his artwork thanks to his father’s new attitude. Carlos was able to find success as a painter after he graduated. In fact, he had been invited to a gallery opening for rising new artists such as himself. His future as an artist was bright.

And while Carlos was busy making a name for himself, his best friend/new father lived happily too. Xavier loved his new dad bod, and so did the gay hunks at the local gym. They would never give him the time of the day back in his old body, but with his new DILF body? They were all over him. Although Enrique still occasionally complained in his head, Xavier learned how to ignore him. The old Enrique had become a distant memory over the years as Xavier and Carlos lived their best lives as a happy father and son duo.

Thank you for supporting!!

#male takeover #male identity theft #male body theft #male bodysuit #bodysuit transformation #musk #muscular #dad possession #commission story #commission

323 notes · View notes