#I’m slowly working on them I’m just sick unfortunately

[ruruumin]

take my body back.

₊˚ ᗢ itoshi rin x childhood friend! fem! reader.

⤷ swapping bodies with isagi was not on his things to do, but loving you is.

this might have been either the worst thing imaginable, or the most humiliating. he is looking at himself in the mirror, eyes twitching. he brings up one hand to pull down the underside of his lower eyelashes. 

after crashing into each other during a practice game, isagi and rin had mysteriously swapped bodies. with stifled laughter from the rest of their team, they had to stay within the same infirmary until things settled down. ego chalked it up to being a very rare malfunction in their suits. while he works on a solution with anri, the two were dismissed from practices all together.

isagi was the more panicky of the two. he was looking at himself frantically in the mirror, shaking bachira by the shoulder in a frenzy. he couldn’t go home. not like this, he kept saying. even though isagi’s wish of being taller and physically stronger, he did not mean he wanted to be in rin’s body.

“what is so wrong with my body?” rin asks, albeit in isagi’s voice, coming off higher pitched and squeakier to his ears. 

“nothing!” isagi instantly shuts his mouth. he raises both of his hands, waving them around as he looks in all sorts of directions. being in the wrong body felt so weird. hearing rin’s voice come off as shy and embarrassed was the last thing on bachira and nagi’s bucket list. and god did they take pleasure out of their torment.

“its just that—how are we supposed to go back to our normal lives like this?” he confesses, scratching the back of his neck, “if i show up to my moms doorstep she’ll get the wrong idea!”

rin blinks slowly, a dull look casting over isagi’s body. “stop making such a big deal out of it. it’ll be fixed soon.” throwing a towel over his shoulder, rin is about to leave the locker rooms (in his body) before isagi reaches out to stop him.

“what about your girlfriend, what is she going to say?”

now this is the unfortunate reality. 

he has no idea how you will react to him going back home in a completely different body. and although you knew isagi in passing, he can’t just show up to your shared apartment like this. its a sick and cruel joke, he thought to himself. rin glances over to isagi with a hardened gaze.

him and his six foot body, long lower eyelashes and scowl are now being flipped inside out and upside down. seeing it as a different person and not just a reflection confuses him on unimaginable levels.

whatever he’s suggests next comes off like acid on his tongue.

.☘︎ ݁˖

you are shocked when you open the door. seeing two men, one of which is your boyfriend, and the other his rival, with opposite expressions. isagi is staring at you with a deep grimace while rin looks happy and relieved to see you. 

“let us in.” isagi, no, rin commands. 

“why is isagi here?” you ask, pressing your lips together as you step to the side. they shuffled out of their shoes, dropping them next to the cubby beside the door. “you should have told me if we were going to have guests over, i would have tidied up a little.”

rin’s eyes scans over your figure. you were wearing a plain t shirt and shorts, your hair was a bit of a frazzled mess, a clear sign that you had just woken up from your nap. he has half a heart to hug you right then and there, but touching you in isagi’s body is going to feel like poison. 

to his horror, you’re by isagi’s side, helping him take off his jacket. rin immediately reaches over to stop you, giving you a deadly glare.

“don’t touch him.” he warns.

this leads you to push him off to the side, frowning. “what are you doing?” in an accusatory tone, you peel off the jacket, “what has gotten into you, isagi? you used to be so polite.” 

“a-ah, well-” isagi bashfully looks away, “the thing is, i’m actually not rin.” 

“huh?”

rin pushes isagi away from you (god forbid he touches you in isagi’s body), huffing as he does so. feeling his chest through isagi’s hands is horrifically gross and he swears he will rip ego in half if he doesn’t find a solution quickly. 

after some short but confusing explanation from isagi, the two of them were seated on the couch while you stood over them. with a hand on your hip, you mumble something underneath your lips, trying to wrap your head around the strange phenomenon. 

“so my boyfriend is in...your body,” you point at rin’s body, dragging it over to isagi, “and you’re in rin’s body.” 

“that’s what we’re trying to tell you.” 

you flick rin’s forehead, causing him to deliver a sharp exhale, “this is your fault for not being more careful during practice matches. what happened to taking care of yourself? did it go in one ear and out the other?”

“of course not,” he huffs, brushing through his hair but noticing how much shorter it is now that he isn’t in his actual body. 

“this idiot over here was the one who got the yellow card.” 

“huh?”

isagi shoves a finger at rin, “you’re the one who rammed into me!” 

“can it!” 

the two of them start to bicker with one another. as serious as a head injury might be, you’re honestly flabbergasted seeing them together like this. it almost cracks a smile on your face when you see rin’s body soften. but you awkwardly clear your throat, breaking up the argument with a sigh.

“do you need a place to stay for the night?” you turn to isagi, “we can give you the couch to sleep on if you’re not comfortable going home right now. i think its the least i can do since rin has been so much trouble for you.”

before the man could protest at your words, isagi beamed with happiness and relief, “that would be great (name). i don’t want to overstay my welcome so i’ll leave tomorrow morning to see ego.”

“i can’t believe my rin rin can look this peaceful,” you say, swooning a little bit. 

“shut up,” rin claps a hand over your mouth, “all this nonsense is making me tired.” 

despite his harsh and seemingly cold words, you can read him too easily. the subtle touch on your shoulder is enough for you to decipher his wants, and what he wants right now is to unravel in your arms.

placing a hand on his lower bicep, you guide him into your shared bedroom, not before waving to isagi to tell him that you will fetch a warm blanket later. he nods and gives you few kind words. it makes you want to laugh at how obvious it was that they swapped bodies. rin can be polite to you, but never this polite. it makes the situation all the more entertaining when you feel your boyfriend drag you into your rooms.

away from isagi’s prying eyes, he is leaning his head against your shoulder, slowly exhaling. his chest moves up and down, shoulders racking down with shivers. you bring up one hand to pat him on the back, pulling him down from cloud nine. anymore of your warmth and he thinks he is about to sink into you. he has to hold back the urge to squeeze you because the body he is in is not his. 

its killing him inside how he wants to love you. 

you, his childhood friend and biggest fan, his light and first (possibly only) love. standing so cute and comfortable in front of him with eyes so warm it could melt his cold, popsicle-self into a pool of sticky wetness. he doesn’t mind that you aren’t dressed up. he thinks its even better, seeing you like this.

he doesn’t like how much shorter he is now. he used to be able to press a kiss on the top of your head with ease. now he’s...fun-sized, as he would put it. he lacks the arm muscles hes so used to having. he doesn’t have the confident suave he was born with (something you’ve always told was a birthright of the itoshi family).

it could have been worse, he tells himself. imagine he swapped bodies with igaguri or shidou. he would have thrown himself into the nearest river if he had to come home to you in shidou’s body. the thought alone makes him want to gag.

but with you in his arms, it makes his heart grow bigger. like the christmas grinch, he has finally found his happiness and the whimsical joys that come from being your boyfriend. its seriously killing him inside, he wants to kiss you with his own lips, hold you with his own arms, and carry you off into the distance in his body. 

you wipe away a string of tears that dribble down his cheek. he didn’t realize he was crying until he heard your gentle whispers. even though he no longer looks like sae, he misses his own body. he yearns to see the scowl on his face that he has grown to slowly love, only because you kept pressing kisses to his cheeks and dimples. he wants to see his hands on your hips, lifting you off the ground and onto the kitchen counters to hold you even closer to his chest, to kiss you at the same height.

he didn’t realize how much he has taken for granted until he was in someone else’s shoes. 

when you brush his, or isagi’s hair, he just wishes he could turn back the clock and kiss you stupid. steal the air from your lungs that he swore belongs to him, and him only. 

that night might have been the most strangest yet sweetest experience in the world. with isagi taking the couch and you and rin sleeping on the ground next to him (he didn’t want to sleep in an empty bed without you, and vise versa, he promises he wouldn’t let you be alone as long as he was here). 

hes holding onto your hand with his pinky, a subtle touch that sends warmth down his spine. even in a different body, you still love him.

and he loves you, so much that it hurts.

[thefearfulheart]

Been awhile since I’ve last posted something on Parkour Civilisation and Clownbo (so sorry about that my work was busting my butt lately ahaha) but I have a small au idea for people here if they want it that lets me combined something else I absolutely love as well

Vampire Evbo x Vampire Hunter Clown that’s set in a modern au

So, to start off the premise, Evbo is a recently turned vampire that was completely an accident after Seawatt (who was his then boyfriend at the time but is no longer that :)) decided to finally feed on him after luring him back to his place that he was temporarily staying at and then left him pretty much to die after using him for his blood…unfortunately for Seawatt he didn’t end up realising that he actually turned Evbo and when the blond woke after it-to say the least-he was confused. Evbo tries to find Seawatt again after finding the large amount of blood that seemed to be spilt around him, the aching pit that gnaws at his stomach painful and his sudden avoidance of the sun…well, Evbo ends up finding that Seawatt is completely gone now and he has to figure out what happened on his own.

He ends up researching his symptoms, thinking that he’s just sick possibly to deny what’s happening to him as he grows more and more hungrier each day, and he grows paler each passing day until he’s backed into a corner by someone trying to rob him…something tight in his guts pulling hard onto him as he feels his teeth ache with pain and his eyes darken as the robber gets closer towards him, tension bubbling underneath his skin until they’re just a breath away…and then he pounces on them, his fingers tearing into them as his teeth latch onto their neck and he tastes the sweet, tart taste of blood filling his mouth and he’s gone. A blind hunger overtakes him and he doesn’t awaken from it until he finds himself at his home, alone and washing out the blood from his clothes in the sink. The taste of blood fresh in his mouth as he stares into the bathroom tub in horror-his eyes reflecting off the murky, bloodied surface of it-and he slowly brings a hand to his mouth to breath, trying to find purchase as he throws himself away from the bathtub and slides down the wall opposite it with a pained noise escaping him.

He’s finally figured out he isn’t ‘sick’ now and that it’s something much worse….

Clown enters later on when Evbo has established himself a bit more and kinda has figured out what he can do to satiate his hunger without hurting people, his first kill still fresh in his mind. He tries to use animal blood to satiate his hunger but that thirst for human blood haunts his waking hours even as he drinks animal blood, a pungent bitterness clinging to it that sours his senses and makes him want to hurl, but he resists the urge even if he never feels full from it…eventually he ends up making another friend in the form of Void who’s a werepanther (he’s so cat coded I’m sorry) and it’s going pretty good so far for him, he’s alive and well and he now has a friend that has his back in this! (Ended up meeting void after the other accident fell on top of him while in his panther form when Evbo was hunting and they became quick friends after it.)

He still hasn’t found Seawatt on why this happened…but he feels like he’s getting closer to finding him and he knows that it’s only a matter of time before he has his answers.

That is…until Clown enters the picture.

Something about the masked man-it has to be a man there’s no question about it since he bleeds like a man-has Evbo on edge and Void nervous when they first see him around time. There’s an almost predator like quality in the way the other moves-as if he’s sizing them up-and the way he stares at Evbo as if he’s taking him apart in his mind and rearranging him again and again. It’s something that sets Evbo’s instincts on edge and heightens his desire to bare his fangs at him, to prove he’s the bigger predator here, but he stomps that desire down each time it rises up.

Evbo first meets him when he comes into his work-most likely a barista in all honesty or something like that-and their eyes immediately lock onto each other, something that makes Evbo freeze in place and Clown tilts his head at him in interest. It feels like an eternity until Evbo gets told to go on break and he sighs in relief to leave while Clown watches him walk away from him, the air almost suffocating until the blond leaves.

The dynamic is very much a wolf among sheep x a sheep in a wolf’s den situation with Clown and Evbo since Clown is here to investigate the multitude of murders that have been popping up with the attacks resembling vampire feedings (something that is completely unconnected to Evbo but he unfortunately gets involved in it) and ends up finding the odd occurrences of animals attacks and deaths as well which makes him suspicious. He ended up getting requested to do this job as a favour from an old enemy of his (The Old Man) and was disgruntled that his skills weren’t being used for something more interesting than this but retracts his opinion when he finds out about the odd animal attacks and the strange blond that he met earlier that day :)

I will outright say that Clown is straight up human because I think it’s more terrifying for Evbo to go against someone with no special powers or abilities and is just so incredibly, terrifyingly human in everything he does. The dread of ‘just’ a man being so powerful while being human intriguing and terrifying him but also the fact that Clown’s blood calls to him in such a way, teasing and whispering to him that he should have a taste of him.

It sets something in him alight and he craves for Clown’s blood, thinking about the man and what he would taste like in his waking hours and resting hours. Something that consumes him obsessively that he claws at himself for the thoughts of consumption, the craving of the blood and dangerous man while Clown remains unaware of his desires there. It’s something that scares Evbo to the core and frightens him since he feels like he’s walking on such a thin, fine wire that would snap at any moment…and he’s scared of what he would do when it happens.

Specifically this song with them as well fills my brain at the moment

[rjlae]

Hii before I request anything ( if the ship art offer is still up ofc! ), I wanted to know if there were any ships you absolutely wouldn't do? ( Besides the obvious ones like incest, I mean just ones you dislike in general? ) :)

Thank you for asking!!

And no there aren’t any! Well like you said obviously the controversial ones but other than that I’m good with any of them!

I may not have instant ideas for some of them but I’ll give any of them a go

[luveline]

Jade can I please get a chatty af yapper sunshine girlfriend with Sirius?? Like May be someone tells her she talks a lot so she's super quiet around him cuz she's worried he'll get annoyed and break up with her but poor Sirius he misses his chatty girl and just angst with fluff

thank you for requesting! fem, 1.4k

James Potter means well. Honestly, you don’t think he has a mean bone in his body, so you try not to take it to heart. 

Unfortunately, your attempts to do so don’t work. They really, unquestionably don’t. By the time you’re outside of Sirius’ flat that afternoon, James’ small comment is all you can think of. 

“You’re so chatty I’m surprised you don’t run out of breath,” he’d said. Not without love. You’d bumped into him in Sainsbury’s and ended up talking for ages about one thing or another, you know him well, you’d even say you were friends, though he’s of course Sirius’ friend rather than your own. “But I’m the same. God, Sirius used to hate how much I talked, he’d be sick of me. I think I numbed him to it over the years.” 

You can’t imagine it. Sirius and James are best friends. With Remus, they’re the most in love threesome of friends you’ve ever met, and it’s nice; it makes you very proud to have a boyfriend who cares for others as deeply as Sirius cares for them. It’s like a constant demonstration of how he’s a good man. 

But you’d never stopped to consider that they weren’t always so seamless, and you’ve regrettably never considered that your constant talking is something that could put him off. 

You talk to Sirius about everything. There isn’t a word to describe the excitement of having someone waiting to listen to you every single night. You could tell him every detail of a day down to what colour socks you wore and you know he’ll sit there listening with his hand on the small of your back, or his fingers twined between yours. You’ve never felt so loved as to be able to just talk about everything and have him talk back. 

But… what if, this whole time, he’s been wishing for a little bit of quiet? 

What if eventually, the talking becomes too much? 

He must be with you for a reason. You aren’t holding the poor guy hostage, he acts like he’s mad for you ninety percent of the time (while the other ten percent is spent sleeping on your shoulder). 

Like now —you knock his door and you can hear him scrambling up from the sofa, the sound of a book dislodged or a remote hitting the rug, you’re not sure. The door yanks open and Sirius smiles at you, pulling you in through the gap with a familiar hand on your hip. 

“Hey,” Sirius says, tucking you against his side, “hey, did you get lovelier over the weekend?” He shoves the door closed and gives you a hug with one arm, pausing in the hall. “Sorry I couldn’t see you. I don’t think we should miss another weekend.” 

You have a lot to tell him. It’s been ages since you spent nearly three days apart, but James’ conversation stays at the front of your mind. 

You decide to be less overwhelming, but not less loving, curling your arm behind his head to pull his cheek down for a kiss. “I don’t think so, either.” 

Sirius tilts his head away from you in an invitation for more kissing. 

You’re at home in his flat. You take off your shoes and hang up your jacket. You change into a pair of jogging bottoms with loose legs and let him hoist you onto his bed for a few stolen kisses, though he isn’t propositioning you, and you end up laying across his bedspread with one of your legs in his lap as he tells you about his days without you, his thumb sliding with pressure down your calf. 

“Mostly I wished I’d asked you to come over anyways, even if it was just to sleep together at the end of the day. Maybe next time we can do that?” he asks. 

“Of course we can.” You smile at him indulgently. “I’d come over for twenty minutes if it was all I could get.” 

“Or I can come to you,” he says, “even if it’s just twenty minutes.” 

He smiles, a beaming thing, and leans down slowly for a soft kiss. 

“So,” he asks, his breath on your lips, “how was your weekend? Lonely?” 

“So lonely,” you tease lightly, eyes fluttering closed as he continues his massaging of your leg. “But it was okay. I missed you, really, and didn’t do much else.”

“No?” he asks. 

Your voice takes on a shine as he squeezes your knee, “Missed your hands.”  

“I missed your everything.” He grabs for your forearms and pulls you into a sitting position. “But everything was okay?” he asks more seriously. 

“Everything was fine.” 

He raises his eyebrows, but eventually lets them relax. “Well, okay. Good, sweetheart, I’m glad it was okay.” 

He persuades you into the kitchen to sit with him as he makes dinner, refusing to let you help, and yet insisting you be there in the same room, as though you’d like to be anywhere else. Sirius makes your favourite of his usual rotation, offering you spoonfuls for tasting, gaps of silence stretching as he struggles to find new conversation. You start answering his questions but remember time and time again that Sirius could become totally sick of you. He might already be. 

Sirius puts the food on a low heat and washes his hands. He wipes them dry, but when he takes your face, dampness lines the inside of his fingers. 

“I’d like for you to tell me what’s wrong,” he says gently, stroking at the line of your startled frown, “before it gets worse. Do you want to talk about it?” 

“Nothing’s wrong.” 

“Please don’t, lovely. If I’ve done something wrong, please tell me. I want us to last forever, and we can’t do that if you won’t tell me when I upset you.” 

“It wasn’t you,” you say instinctively, then regret it. 

“So someone has?” he asks, still so gentle as his hands coast down your neck like he’s sculpting you, coming to rest on the slopes leading to your shoulders. “You can tell me anything. You don’t have to keep it to yourself… please.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Sweetheart.” He frowns deeply. Couldn’t look more upset. “Of course I’m sure. Why wouldn’t I be?” 

You chew it over, not wanting or willing to cause ructions between Sirius and his oldest friend. “Well, I saw James today at the shop, and… we were talking about you…” 

He waits. “And?” 

“And he told me you– you don’t like talking. That you didn’t like talking, that James used to make you sick of it. So I know I talk too much and you’ve never made me feel like I shouldn’t, but I guess I got into my head thinking you’d get sick of me, too.” 

“When we were younger I didn’t like much of anything.” He curls an arm behind your neck to hold you in place, but it’s not a dominant sort of movement, only protective as your noses inch together. “Did you ever read that poem by Bukwoski? Let It Enfold You?” 

“What?” 

“I’m not very good at explaining myself. I thought if you knew the poem, you’d–” He laughs near your cheek. “I hated everything. It wasn’t James’ fault. He did make me sick of it sometimes, but I just wanted to hide from everything.” He breathes out slowly. “I’ve never wanted to hide from you. I can’t get sick of you. Do you get that? I can’t get sick of you. Listening to you is the best part of my day, you’re my personal chatterbox.” 

“Chatterbox,” you repeat teasingly. 

“You could talk for Wales,” he says. “And I love it, I don’t want you to stop, because I’ll never be sick of it.”

“I don’t want it to be some secret resentment.”

“I don’t resent you for anything. I knew exactly who you were when we met and I love it.” He takes your face again. “I love it,” he repeats. 

You steal a little kiss against the corner of his lips. “What was the poem?” you ask. 

“I’ll find my book, and you can read it to me. What do you think?” He takes a slow kiss as you had in the same place, words like honey. “I miss your voice.” 

He’s basically pleading. It’s not like Sirius to plead, but you pull it out of him. 

“Can I have my dinner first?” 

“The one I made while you deprived me?” he asks. “Yes, if you must.” 

He takes another kiss, but you’re happy to give it. 

[stjohnstarling]

I've been astonished by how much people seem to love my weird and experimental project held together by duct tape and string, especially since so much of it flies in the face of the way I've been taught publishing is supposed to work. The conventional way authors survive online is to release books for sale as frequently as possible - whereas I've been focusing on giving each project as much time as I can, and releasing them slowly (so far I've done a Dracula-inspired novel.) I’ve been making the sort of transgressive queer writing that mainstream publishing is too nervous to touch right now, and I've been giving it away in my newsletter for free.

I want to keep telling stories for free, forever. Only there's one problem: I'm going to need A Lot more subscribers to my newsletter. I have just under 5000 readers right now - I’m going to need at least double that.

Conventional wisdom also says that Tumblr is a dead end, but I'm convinced that this is one of the last places on the internet that capable of fostering real, counter-cultural queer expression - precisely because we are so often left out and forgotten by the mainstream. Half the reason I'm on this website is because of the culture of absolute resistance to advertising. Unfortunately, that also makes my job here rather hard. If things continue to go well, between Patreon, sales of special editions, and a couple small ads, I think I can just about get away with doing this. But I need your help.

If you're someone who's hungry for good stories and:

❧ You're sick of being sold superficial, safe, and sanitized queer stories that shy away from genuine expressions of socially unacceptable desire

❧ You see sexual freedom as inseparable from queer liberation, and you want to see that explored in metaphor via a vampire seducing a priest

❧ You want to read modern queer fiction that's aware of the deep and rich history of queer culture

❧ You want to help foster a project that would create new avenues for underground and transgressive forms of queer expression

Then you should subscribe to What Manner of Man! It's sexy and boundary-pushing and kinky, with fire in its veins.

If this works, I'll be able to take on bigger and more ambitious projects than I ever have before (it's mad scientists next, and I have some pretty mad ideas!)

Thank you for your time! Reblogs deeply appreciated.

[ellecdc]

okay then consider this a request!! for poly!marauders or just remus/james/sirius, whatever you prefer, for a reader with excruciating period cramps (self-indulgent because mine are horrible, but whatever!!) if you could do it that would be awesome ily!

ok I'm sorry I really made this very much self indulgent in maybe the worst way ever lol. I've been having a lot of fun with chef!Sirius lately, and had briefly discussed this idea with @maladaptiveescapism a while back so it felt fitting. I've also gotten a lot of period fic requests before and have never been all that interested in them which is so strange seeing as I'm a person who experiences period's and they're really popular? WOW sorry, what a tangent. TL;DR, thanks for your request, sorry if I ruined it a little, I probably won't ever write a period fic again lol

chef!sirius x mixologist!reader who calls in sick to work because of her period [2.9k words]

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7

CW: period fic, reader has PCOS, brief allusion to Sirius' shitty childhood, trans!Reggie agenda 'cause I can, Sirius worried reader won't be accepting of his trans brother (spoiler alert, we are because we love our trans homies), Sirius being the worst (positive & affectionate)

Sirius was on his best behaviour today.

Honest to god, hand to his heart, best behaviour.

But there was truly only so much one bloke could do when they had a Jeffery to deal with.

“I’m going to need one of your staff for the evening.” Jeffery said without preamble; standing half-in the kitchen with the swinging door to the floor propped open as if he wanted to ensure there were witnesses to this conversation should it go sideways.

“Jeffery, do you wake up every morning and smoke a bunch of crack before you come to work, or are you really just this dense?” Sirius spat as he dropped his pan in front of him and fought the urge to turn and give the floor manager a withering glare. 

Jeffery, well seasoned to Sirius’ theatrics, bit back an eye roll as he carried on. “We need someone to cover the bar.”

Sirius did turn at that, but his withering glare fell somewhere between aghast and bemused. “The bar?”

“The bar.”

“Why?”

“I need coverage for Y/N.” Jeffery explained with a sigh, clearly growing tired of Sirius’ line of questioning.

“Where is she?”

“She has called in sick, chef.”

“Sick with what?” Sirius continued, causing Jeffery’s brows to furrow as he stared at Sirius bemusedly. 

“I’m not exactly privy to those details, chef.” He explained slowly as if Sirius were some fussy toddler. 

“I just find it hard to believe that the same woman who left the hospital after getting her shoulder reset to come work a full eight hour shift would call in sick.”

Jeffery offered him a shoulder shrug (and a concerned look up and down that Sirius pretended he didn’t notice) before pilfering one of the kitchen staff for the evening. 

Sirius would worry about hating Jeffery later; he was more focused on figuring out what the hell was wrong with you and why you weren’t coming to see him to work. 

Sirius had his phone wedged between the side of his face and his shoulder whilst he juggled the many go-bags he had in his hands as he stood awkwardly outside of the door to your flat.

He admittedly knew where you lived only because he had driven you home after numerous closing shifts.

Fortunately, the intercom system in the anteroom of your building gave away your unit number.

Unfortunately, Sirius still had his hands full with the various go-bags.

Fortunately, an elderly lady was coming in at the same time and let Sirius into the building. 

Unfortunately, she insisted on chatting his ear off the whole lift ride up and actually held the door open to continue conversing even after they had arrived at her floor.

Sirius’ saving grace came in the form of the lift alarm buzzing for having kept the door ajar too long, and she was forced to bid him farewell. 

Which brought him here; standing outside of your flat like some kind of stalker as he waited for you to pick up your phone.

“Hello?”

“Hey, open your door.”

“Well hello to you too, chef.” You snarked at him again. 

“Yes, yes. I said hey, didn’t I? Open your door.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m standing on the other side of it.” 

There was the sound of a quick exhale and rummaging. “Why?”

“Listen, I’d love to play 20 questions, but do you think you could let me in first?”

You muttered something that sounded an awful lot like a swear before the line ended.

He allowed his phone to slip out of its place and into his awaiting hand when you flung the door open unceremoniously.

Now, Sirius could tell you’d not been expecting any company today; you were in the same clothes you’d likely slept in, your hair was perfectly rumpled from whatever position Sirius had just disturbed you from, and you looked more than a tad embarrassed to see him standing here.

He had sort of hoped you would look like a troll; make this raging flame he carried for you burn a little softer.

But no.

You just had to look ethereal and perfect and lovely and kissable.

Damn woman. 

“What are you doing here?” You finally asked, interrupting the both of you from staring at one another. 

“Helping?”

You made a breathy W sound - as if you were going to ask “what” or “why” but the words died on your lips as you took in Sirius’ many bags. 

“What did you bring?”

“I’ll show you everything if you just let me in.” He muttered as he motioned towards one of your nosey neighbours who had shoved her head out of her door when she first heard Sirius in the hall.

You peered around your doorframe and narrowed your eyes at her before allowing Sirius entry. 

“Finally.” Sirius teased as he moved to place his bags on your kitchen island. 

Sirius had never seen the inside of your flat, but if he had simply stumbled into your space by accident he would have known it was yours immediately. 

There was something so intrinsically you about your space that Sirius immediately felt at home too, even just for having stepped inside. 

“Sorry.” You chuckled somewhat awkwardly; bringing one of your hands to the back of your neck as you considered Sirius and all of his bags. “We’d just been watching some shows.”

Sirius immediately felt his heart fall out of his arse.

We? 

Had he read this completely wrong? Were you seeing someone? Was your home not simply yours, but one that you shared?

He found himself suddenly feeling quite defensive over your flat; it was too lovely, too wonderful, too comfortable for simply just anyone to enjoy.

“We?” He asked suddenly; tone taking on a bit of an edge he didn’t intend or consent to.

You cocked an eyebrow at him and pointed behind you with your thumb; Sirius followed your gesture to a little tabby cat perched on the back of your sofa, tilting its head at the two of you as if it, too, was confused by Sirius’ sudden intonation. 

“You were watching shows with your cat?” He clarified; his voice now breathy in relief. 

“Birdie loves shows.” You countered defensively. 

“You named a cat bird?”

“No.” You argued. “I named my kitten Birdie. Do you not like cats?” You asked then, a teasing smirk growing on your face. 

“I like cats fine; where can I put this?” He asked instead; hoping to god you didn’t notice the blush heating up his face. 

He started unloading the many take-away boxes he’d prepared for you at the restaurant before skiving off the rest of his shift.

“What is this?”

“Food.”

“Sirius, why did you-”

“I asked what helped.” Sirius explained. “You said food; I brought food. I’m not sure if you’ve noticed yet dollface, but food is kind of my thing.”

“Smartass.”

“That too.” He replied with a wink, moving to put the desserts in your fridge. 

“Did you seriously come all the way over here just to bring me food?” You asked disbelievingly as you joined Sirius at the counter and peered into the bags.

Sirius had to tamp down the giddiness that threatened to consume him at how sweet and domestic this felt; you clad in your comfies as you helped him unload groceries. 

“I didn’t come all the way over here just to bring you food…I brought other stuff too.” 

“‘Course you did.” You muttered quietly, looking at Sirius with a look in your eyes that he couldn’t quite decipher.

“Go lay down.” He ordered instead as he went about plating your food - opening cabinets at random until he found what he was looking for. “I don’t hear laying down!” He sing-songed when he saw you still  standing in his periphery. 

You harrumphed before acquiescing; picking up your cat who made a little brrp sound as if to second Sirius’ directions. 

Finally content with his efforts, he moved to stand in front of you with a glass of water and some pasta he brought from work. 

You made an appreciative hum and sat up, which seemed to displease Birdie greatly. “God, maybe I need to find myself a personal chef.”

“Oi! Don’t go replacing me now.” Sirius scolded as he perched himself on your coffee table - perhaps a little casual for being a first time (uninvited) guest in someone’s home - but you didn’t seem to mind.

“Oh the job is so yours chef; you’re welcome here anytime.” You said around a mouthful of food. And even though Sirius knew you were joking, he couldn’t help the giddy fluttering of his heart at the sentiment. 

“This is really good, Sirius, and super thoughtful; thank you.” You offered earnestly. 

“So I guess you don’t have any room for dessert, then?” He asked teasingly; his taunting smirk melting away immediately at the excitement that took over your face before he ran to retrieve it for you. 

“Why is she doing that?” Sirius asked after a while, gesturing towards Birdie with his chin who was rubbing her head against the leg of his pants.

“Why’s she doing what?” You asked bemusedly as Sirius fought every urge to wipe the little bit of chocolate from your upper lip. Unfortunately thankfully for him, you licked it out of his sight. 

“Head butting me; seems quite rude.” Sirius murmured as he watched the cat in bemusement. 

“That’s basically a cat hug, Sirius; she’s hugging you, or saying hello.” You chuckled at him.

“Get out.” He scoffed in disbelief. 

“Cats have little scent markers in their cheeks; when they rub against something, they’re affectionately claiming it as their own.”

“So like a dog pissing on trees?” He deadpanned.

“Affectionately claiming you as their own; offer her your hand, Sirius.”

“But what if she-”

“Chef, offer her your hand.” You barked at him with no heat. 

Sirius narrowed his eyes challengingly at you but did as he was told; pleasantly surprised when the cat moved the rubbing from his trousers to his hand. 

“Have you never met a cat before?” You asked as you considered him.

“No…I have.” Sirius offered slowly, admittedly enjoying the velvety soft fur of your little companion. 

“Could’ve fooled me.” You teased as you placed your now empty dish on the side table. 

“My family had a cat growing up; a horrid thing. I swear to god my mum taught him how to attack me. Loved my brother though, but was nasty as all get out to anyone else.” 

“Really? Was he a stray before he lived with you?”

“Nope.” Sirius offered with a pop of the p. “Raised that fucker from kittenhood. Lived a god awful long time too, just to spite me; I wished every year on my birthday that it would die.”

“Sirius!”

“I’m not joking! My brother and I would sneak cupcakes up to my room and he’d light a candle for me and tell me to make a wish. One of them was always ‘please for the love of god let Kreacher die before me’.” He didn’t think now was the time to admit that his other wish was always ‘please for the love of god let us make it out of here alive’. 

“That’s awful; you’re awful.” You laughed. 

“No, Kreacher was awful; I was but a boy.”

“I can’t believe you got after me for naming my cat Birdie when you had a cat named Kreacher.” 

“I didn’t have a cat named Kreacher, my brother did.” He responded haughtily. 

“Who named him?”

“I did.”

“Why?” You laughed again. 

“‘Cause he was a tiny, awful, hateful little gremlin and needed a name that said as much!” 

The two of you laughed until your hands migrated to your abdomen and you began massaging into your skin; a small divot appearing between your brows.

“What is it?” Sirius asked quietly then.

You tried to shake your head and offered him a tight smile. “S’okay.”

“Is it cramps?”

“Yeah.”

“Lie back.” He instructed as he stood from his seat on the coffee table - his mother would be rolling in her grave if she’d seen him with such a lack of manners.

Good.  

“Sirius, really, you’ve-”

“Lie back.” He whispered again, one hand on your shoulder as he gently guided you so that you were lying along your sofa with your head propped up on the armrest.

Stealing himself for perhaps embarrassing himself completely and making this whole precarious situation between the two of you go tits up, he finally shucked off his jacket and boots before rolling up the sleeves of his shirt and lowering himself onto the bottom half of your couch.

You watched silently as Sirius situated himself between your legs so that his shoulders and head rested on your abdomen as he weaselled his arms under your back, placing both of his palms up against your lower back.

“Relax.”

“What?”

“You’re tense as shit, doll; relax.” He murmured as he rested his cheek against your stomach.

You let out a breath and sank further into the couch as the two of you fell into comfortable silence.

“Thank you.” You whispered after a few moments.

“You already thanked me.” He whispered back.

“No, I-” You cut yourself off as you gathered your thoughts; a tentative hand absentmindedly making itself at home in his hair as you found your words. “Thank you.” You settled on.

“You’re welcome.” Sirius offered.

“Where’d you learn this?”

Sirius propped his chin up so he could at you; your hand pausing as your eyes flit to it as if you were only now realising what you’d been doing. “Learn what?”

“The pressure? The body heat. The…helping, with cramps?” You asked tentatively, and if Sirius didn’t know better, he’d think you perhaps looked a touch bashful at your questions - your eyes seemingly incapable of meeting his. 

And once again, Sirius found himself taking another jump, or rather, a complete leap of faith that could very well have this thing the two of you had been building crumble and fall before it even had a chance to start.

“Uhm, it was my brother, actually.” He admitted quietly.

Your eyes did finally meet his at that, where they narrowed a touch in confusion.

“You learned this….from your brother?” 

Sirius nodded as he swallowed nervously. “Right. He uhm, well, it often helped him with his cramps and such, so…yeah.” 

It was apparently his turn to be incapable of meeting your eyes as he moved his head so that it was resting against your stomach again.

“You’re a good brother.” You finally offered.

“Well of course I am.” Sirius offered through a breath of relief. “I’m good at everything I do.” 

“You’re a git.”

“I’m good at that too.”

You gave a disciplinary tug at Sirius’ hair which made him think of several sinful things he’d like to be doing with you whilst you did that next time, but he simply chuckled and sank further into you.

“I didn’t exactly sit like this with him, mind you.”

“No? What does that make me, then?”

“Special.” 

“I guess so.” You breathed out through a chuckle. “Coming over on your day off just to spoil me.”

“It wasn’t my day off.” He responded without thinking, tensing when he felt you suck in a breath.

“Sirius.”

“Mhm?” He offered in faux nonchalance.

“You left work for this!?”

“For you?” He asked as he considered you. “Absolutely.”

“For gods sake, Sirius. I bet Jeffery-” 

But he never got to hear what you thought of Jeffery as he let out a very petulant and dramatic groan and lowered his forehead to your stomach. 

“Babe, I know this isn’t exactly the same thing, but generally a man does not want to hear the name of another bloke when he’s in between your legs, yeah?”

You barked out a laugh and swatted at his shoulder. “You’re awful.”

“Terrible.”

“The worst.”

“Absolutely horrid.”

“Giving Kreacher a run for his money.”

Sirius’ head shot up at that as he levelled you with a warning glare. “Too far.”

“I’m sorry.” You laughed, not sounding particularly sorry at all.

“You better be.” Sirius grumbled as he lowered himself back down. “Now be a doll and play with my hair again; it’s nap time.”

And there was an equal chance that you were going to laugh, swat at him, or downright tell him to get his arse back to work.

But Sirius was admittedly overjoyed when you simply placed your fingers back into his hair and began to massage until you fell asleep; him not much longer after you.

[akunya]

hello ive always loved your fics since nijien days and now more into love and deepspace, specifically sylus (the pipeline is universal, i’m afraid) so now, i beg for stalker sylus who is obsessed with everything you do, will fuck you in an alleyway please, cnc and mindbreak, thank you 🙏🏻

"window watching."

pairings: sylus x m!reader

summary: sylus can only take so much of your teasing before he breaks. unfortunately for you, his methods aren't so nice.

tw: NONCON, stalking, obsessive behavior, size diff., frottage, sph (if you squint), praise. implied kidnapping, handjobs, choking, coercion, dacryphilia etc.

notes: see how i didnt add stalker to the front of his name? i genuinely think he would stalk the shit out of you and it doesnt need to be an au, lol.

in all seriousness, i hope you enjoy it. i'm getting back into the swing of things... probably a bit ooc and doesnt follow the game lore (too much, that is).

im uploading this while sick, so i apologize for any mispellings/mistakes/etc.

please let me know what you think!

stalker sylus who cannot, at first much to his dismay, keep his eyes off of you.

everywhere you go, every time you think you have a sliver of privacy: he's always watching. whether its mephisto or one of the twins, he needs to know what you're doing at all times. taking note of what stores you visit, what time you usually come home, who you talk to. it becomes an urge he cant quite satisfy.

at first, he only watched out of boredom. yea sure, he needed you alive, so keeping note of your location was just another one of his duties. someone as naive and reckless as yourself was bound to get into trouble.

but gradually it gets worse.

"where are you off to now, kitten?" mumbling to himself, the man swipes across his phone screen, watching surveillance cameras with a bated breath as you walked home. your figure was a bit blurry, but that didn’t stop sylus as he watched intently. it was nothing truly unusual. around this time, you'd be already cozied up in bed, but it seems like work made you stay overtime tonight. "idiots.." sylus's brow furrowed slightly at the thought of you overworking yourself.

before you, he didn't care much for romance. friendship, trivial things: he thought those were what made a person weak.

but now?

every little thing you do drives him mad. the way you carefully fold your clothes after finishing your laundry to make sure your room stays clean. how you always greet the cashier at the nearby convenience store with a smile, thanking them for bagging your items. how long you take a shower for, which coffee shop is your favorite, even down to the type of shampoo and conditioner you use daily: sylus had it all down to a science. he practically knew everything about you.

even then, a question still rang through his mind. why would you waste your time with all of these other men?

he knew about that strange doctor who's gaze lingered on yours a little too long for his liking. sylus felt his fist clench when he would watch you talk to that painter too, jaw clenching in annoyance when he would see you walk home or to work with that blonde boy.

he shook his head, trying to snap out of his own thoughts. this wasn't about them. right now, this was about you.

it was another evening with you winding down after a long day of work. a tired sigh leaves your lips, and sylus’s cock throbs watching you undress as you slowly slip off your shirt. was it normal to be staring at another man like this? watching from cameras could only do so much, so this time, the villain found himself on a roof adjacent to your window. thankfully, you were too stupid a majority of the time to close the blinds, so he had a nice view of your nightly routine.

...which was mostly boring to watch, if he's being honest. you walked around shirtless for a moment, putting away your work gear and leaving your shoes by the door. it was a whole lot of nothing for a good 15 minutes, leaving sylus to rethink his choices for the night.

sitting on the cold bricks of the adjacent roof, he couldn't help feeling just a tinge of shame. "how pathetic, watching afar like some sort of pervert. i should just go in there and.." he scoffed, eyes narrowing in what seemed to be.. annoyance? the leader of onychinus hated chasing his prey like some sort of weakling. he was better than this. he deserved to have you in his arms, no matter what you thought or said.

however, his words abruptly came to a stop when your fingers trailed to the hem of your pants.

dark red eyes stared deeply at your hands as they softly pushed at the fabric of your boxers. languid fingertips played with the fabric, yawning as your thumbs hooked against the waistband and began to pull. further and further, pulling ever so slightly to show off a bit of your happy trail, the base of your cock threatening to peek for unwanted visitors to gawk at. sylus could feel himself leaning closer, the distance between the roof and your window suffocating as more of your skin was exposed.

almost, that is, before an imaginary light bulb in your head went off and you quickly took your hands out of your pants. "shit, i forgot to pick up dinner on my way home. i should do that now before i go to bed," you thought to yourself, whisking away from the window and grabbing a plain shirt to throw on. reaching for your keys and wallet, you opened the door and left your apartment as usual, unbeknownst of the dangerous man watching your every step.

sylus's own hands were nearly trembling. the ache and tent in his pants didn't help either, feverishly getting up and following you as you made your way into linkon city. he didn't have to ask mephisto or the twins to follow you - thankfully, the rooftops gave sylus a clear view of the streets below, and he could spot you out from anywhere. the man didnt bother to speed up either, knowing which store you were going to (you were very predictable, after all).

he also knew that there's a convenient dark alleyway just before you would turn the corner to go to the establishment. unfortunately, this vital piece of information slipped your mind, leaving you completely unaware and unguarded as rough hands yanked you into the darkness.

"mmph-!" you tried to scream, the hand covering your mouth muffling your pleas. even though you worked out and were pretty fit because of your hunter lifestyle, your strength was nothing compared to the man hovering above you, wriggling to no avail.

"shh, kitten. you wouldn't want anyone to hear us, would you?" the older man mocked, relishing in the fear and befuddlement in your eyes. it took a second for you to process that the other man was none other than sylus himself, smirking as you squirmed in his grasp. red eyes bore into yours, filing you with fear that rose every second. why did he have you pinned in some dirty alleyway like a thief? surely it wasn't money he was after.

the leader moved his hand from his mouth to your neck, holding you in place as you gasped for air. "s-sylus? what are you doing here?!" crying out, your body couldn't struggle anymore, so you opted for your hands gripping his wrist and trying to pull it off of your neck. "what does it look like im doing?" he scoffed, leaning in close to your ear.

"im here to see you, of course."

brow furrowing, you looked at him in confusion as you took in your surroundings. "a dark, dingy alleyway?" you thought aloud, looking him up and down. sylus fixed his posture as he looked down at you, your size difference becoming more obvious by the second. "oh, did you want me to come and knock on your door instead? i apologize, sweetie. you should've told me you wanted the big bad leader of onychinus inside your little headquarters." his grin infuriated you as you rolled your eyes.

before you could think of a clever rebuttal, sylus wedged his knee in between your legs, parting them open as his thigh pressed against your crotch. "i-i dont.." you muttered, voice raising in pitch to pair with your nervousness as he kissed your neck. he didn't bother answering your silly questions, simply smiling before biting into your shoulder. you hissed in pain, trying to push him off even more than before.

"you don't what, love?" his voice isn't serious at all for the situation you're in. cold skilled hands fiddled with your zipper, freezing for just a moment before gripping onto your girth. the sensation made you cry out again, unable to hide your face from your attacker, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. sylus coo'ed at your feeble attempts to push him away, unbuttoning and pulling out his own cock to hold against yours.

looking down, the size comparison of his cock against yours made your face feel warm. ""aww, look at you sweetie. you're all bark but no bite." the older man laughed again, fingertip circling the head of your cock as he teased you. you loathed the way you shuddered at his snide remarks, the sound of the bustling city just feet away making you panic again.

you raised your voice, "sylus, this isn't funny anymore, seriously! cut it out!".

the wordless tension spoke volumes.

sylus didn't laugh or comment on your refusal. instead, his grip on your neck only grew tighter, choking you against the wall as his other hand started to make a fist around both of your cocks. "do you see me laughing?" his tone was firm as he squeezed harder on your throat. you couldn't say anything back, choking out a sob as he slowly began to jerk you both off together, a low moan slipping from his lips.

"ive wanted this for so long, kitten. so fucking long." muttering, he continued to grind his hips against yours, the unwanted pleasure making your head spin. "i've had enough watching from afar. i think its finally time i get what i want, right?" he kissed the tip of your ear, toying with the cartilage between his teeth.

unable to believe what was happening, you could only cry out more strings of "please", "stop", "no": all music to sylus's ears. "you don't really want me to stop, right? look at how much your cock is leaking onto mine.." he chuckled lowly again, grabbing the back of your neck to force your gaze downwards.

he wasn't wrong, either - dribbling precum and throbbing the entire session, your dick looked just as eager as sylus's, twitching with every flick of his wrist. it wasn't your fault that sylus was way more experienced compared to you. whining, you shook your head again, trying to close your eyes shut so you wouldn't remember any of this. the outside world was so dangerously close, and anyone could catch you two at any moment. how disgraceful it would be: a well known hunter being caught rubbing cocks with the renowned leader of onychinus. you frowned at the thought, whimpering as sylus went back to kissing your bruised neck.

"you could come with me, yknow. back to the n109 zone, i'd take such good care of you." sylus whispered as he felt himself inch closer to his own release, hand pumping furiously between you two. hot tears streamed down your cheeks, your brain awry with the overwhelming sensations of pleasure and pain. "you could have anything you wanted. you wouldn't have to work another day in your life." he groaned, balls tightening at the thought of his own perverse fantasy, imagining you kept in his bedroom all day just for him to use.

"d-don't, sylus please -" you hiccuped, forehead resting on sylus shoulder as he toyed with you. "im gonna cum," sobbing as you held onto his biceps, not wanting to sink any further against the dirty alleyway wall. with so much teasing and dirty whispers from the other, you couldn't think straight, practically panting in sylus's ear as his hands jerked you both off closer and closer.

growling, sylus slotted his lips against yours, a surprisingly gentle kiss before muttering under his breath. "be a good boy and cum for me then," using your fluids as lube, the squelch of his tight fist jerking off your cock made you spill. moaning loudly, your nails dug into his arm as thick ropes of semen poured out, mixing with his load that came seconds after.

silence filled the space between both of you as you tried to catch your breath. your eyelids felt heavy, leaning onto sylus for full support as he rubbed your back. you couldn't quite process what just happened, brain feeling much too fuzzy for any thinking right now.

perhaps it was a mix of exhaustion from your normal workday and your encounter that made you pass out on the older man's shoulder. nonetheless, he was not going to let this opportunity go to waste. pressing onto the comms headpiece in his ear, sylus spoke as quietly as he could not to disturb you.

"luke, kieran, bring one of the cars to my location. i have a little kitten coming home with me today."

[gay-dorito-dust]

Can you please do some headcanons of Stanley being fake married to Fords’ assistant. They had to put up this charade for 30 years to convince people he was Stanford and “Mr. And Mrs. Mystery would bring in way more business!” Dipper and Mabel see her as a mother figure and Mabel likes to plan out their dates because she firmly believes they don’t go on ENOUGH of them. While they’re both on one of these said dates they realize “wait…do I actually like you??” (Slow burn is indeed 30 years slowwwww)

This is so fucking long oh my fucking god-I’m actually going to have to make a part two or something. This is just too long.

Part two here

When you and Ford first arrived at Gravity Falls a lot of people were under the impression that you were a married couple, where they got that preposterous idea form neither of you had single clue but as hard as you and Ford tried to disprove their claims, insisting they you were just platonic partners and nothing more.

It only seemed to give them more reason to assume that there was something more going on between you both. So in the end you both elected to ignore it as Gravity Falls was a small unknown, sleepy town that wasn’t on any recorded map that you chalked it down to them needing something to gossip about to spare them of how boring their lives were. But you and Ford knew others wise and saw Gravity Falls as a treasure trove of information regarding the mysterious and the unknown, it was the main reasons you started this partnership to begin with after all.

But things were quick to fall apart just as it seemed you were getting closer to what you knew was the truth as Ford made a deal with a triangular demon known as Bill, easily swayed by his tricks and even more so by his constant repetition that Ford should ‘trust no one’ not even you, his assistant. Naturally it caused a rift between the two of you as you were sick and tired of having to try and reassure Ford- who was slowly succumbing to paranoia- that you weren’t in any way shape or threat to his research. Even bringing up how you both spend hours on end documenting mushrooms, fungi and others of a similar vein when you both first moved to Gravity Falls.

However this tactic didn’t work in your favour unfortunately as one thing lead to another and you were left helpless as you watched Ford get pulled into the portal that his brother -Stanley- had accidentally pushed him into during their squabble, watching as it seemingly closed forever.

You wanted to be mad at Stanley, you really did but the man had just lost his brother, his twin brother seemingly forever due to his own actions. So instead you eased off of him and offered to help him with reopening the portal in order to get Ford back, while also giving a triangle demon a piece of your mind for taking advantage of your overachiever of a friend. Ford being lost seeing forever hurt you just as badly as it hurt Stanley and you would do anything and everything if it meant seeing your friend again.

That and probably scold him for ever thinking that a deal with demon would ever go down well without some sort of hidden agenda, for if a deal sounds too good to be true then it might as well be. Something you’ve learned from Stan, whom you leaned was an expert conman who conned people for a living in order to get by. You didn’t necessarily saw it as a good thing to do, living off of the nativity of people and their gullible natures, but you didn’t have much of a choice when Stan assumed the identity of his twin and even has the audacity to lean into the town’s assumptions of you and Ford being married.

‘But we’re not married!’ You spat, letting go of Stan’s hand when you got home after a trip into town, all that effort you and Ford tried in order for people to stop assuming your relationship was ruined in one fell swoop, was this town really that desperate that they’d deeply get involved in someone’s life like?

(Yes the answer was yes)

‘I know that and you know that, but they don’t have to know that. Think about all the money we could make off of this! They’d be eating out of the palm of our hands!’ Stan replied with a smile while you could only scoff, not understanding how this was Ford’s twin brother when the two were only alike in the physical sense rather then anything else.

‘Is that all you see this as? An opportunity to capitalise on their naivety? Their gullibility and for what? A quick buck?’ You argued back as you sat yourself down at the table in the kitchen and rested your head in your hands. ‘They’ll catch on eventually.’ You added sombrely as Stan could only watch you and feel a slight pan in his chest at seeing you upset and at a loss, completely the opposite of the person you were when standing next to Ford.

‘Listen toots, I know this isn’t how you expected things to go-‘

‘You think?’ You shot back, glaring at him as he held up his hands.

‘-but there’s no other option for us other then to keep the charade up until we can reopen that stupid portal and get my brother back.’ Stan then tested the waters by planing his hand atop of your own, felling you flinch slightly at the contact before relaxing when you felt his thumb rub your knuckles comfortingly. ‘But until then we’ve got to see this through until the end and hey maybe you’ll come to like me one day!’ He then adds with a smile but you couldn’t help but scoff.

‘Yeah right, the day I come to enjoy your company Stanley Pines is the day I enter an early grave.’ You replied but there was no malice in your voice like there was before and in that moment it felt like things were okay, even if it was brief but it was enough for you to want to take Stanley up on his word and see it through to the end.

Flash forward 30 years and you and Stanley were still going strong with the whole ‘fake marriage’ thing and to Stan’s credit a business ran by a married couple did work wonders on the paying public, most of whom would find more intrigue about how you two met more so then about the fake attractions that Stan tried to have them believe as things that once existed.

‘A unicorn made out of corn? Really Stan?’ You’d whisper to him as you forced a smile while clinging onto his arm while the dumb tourists took their pictures of the supposed unicorn made out of corn. ‘That has to be your worst one yet.’

‘Trust the process sweetheart, trust the process and watch as these idiots throw their money at the first ‘weird’ thing they see. They never stop to question its credibility and that’s what we bank on most.’ Stan replied before pressing a kiss to your forehead, something he always did to keep the facade alive and fresh, along with pulling you into his side by your waist and gloating about you and all your academic achievements to anyone with ears.

You hated how much he seemingly remembered about you that almost had you rethinking everything you know about this man. But then you stop to constantly reminded yourself that Stan only remembered these parts about you because he needed material to keep your story consistent and without any falling potholes, the man knew how to cover his bases that was for sure, and yet that didn’t stop you from feeling seen whenever Stan bragged about how smart his spouse was.

That’s the one thing that you mentally thanked him for. He didn’t make you play into stereotypes or change anything remotely about yourself to fit his narrative, he let you be the smart and intelligent spouse while he played the man who was happy to snag you before anyone else could and had been riding the high ever since. It was…sweet in a way that you couldn’t describe.

When Mabel and Dipper came to Gravity Falls they were naturally skeptical on whether they should stay with you and Stan, but soon enough did they warm up to you when you could match Dipper in terms of intelligence and treated Mabel with nothing but kindness and encouragement of her creativity. That and the fact that you could sway Stan into letting them do whatever by placing your hand on his bicep and bating your eyes at him.

‘Let the kids have fun, you were quite the troublemaker when you were their age.’ You told him as you played devils advocate for the kids going to the movies and Stan sighed before reluctantly agreeing to your terms.

‘Fine, fine.’ He says before pointing at you. ‘You owe me for this though honey.’

You smiled as you kissed his cheek. ‘And how can I do that?’ You asked.

‘How about you both go on a date!’ Mabel exclaimed from across the table as she pulls out a blindingly glittery and sparkly binder that had written across the front: Mabel’s date plans for Grunkle Stan and great aunt/Grunkle/ y/n.

‘How long have you had that sweetheart?’ You asked her, a little frightened to know the answer as you knew Mabel was emotionally intelligent when it came to these sorts of things.

‘Since I’ve noticed that you and Grunkle Stan don’t go on dates.’ She replies as her brows furrowed while she flicked through the pages of her binder for the perfect date for the pair of you.

‘We’re married honey, we don’t need to go on dates. Being together 24/7 is like a date all in itself.’ Stanley replied as he could feel your hand gripping his bicep tighten, wanting nothing more than to soothe that overworked mind of yours as he placed his hand over the top of yours and squeezed, shooing you a reassuring smile.

‘Not good enough!’ Mabel cried as she pointed at the pair of you. ‘I can see the love in your eyes, that love is so hard to come by nowadays and just because you’re married doesn’t mean you stop going on dates!’

‘When was the last time you did go on a date?’ Dipper asked this time as his eyes darted from you to his Grunkle as you both mentally swore to yourselves. You and Stan have never been on a date, sure you’ve both been through town together but you never actually went anywhere that would be considered a date. After all your marriage was just for show and tell and not the real thing, despite how much you’ve grown to like how he held you at night or looked at you as though you hung the stars in the sky.

‘A long time kiddo.’ Stan told him. ‘And it was the date where I realised that I wanted to be with them for the rest of my life.’ He adds, his eyes softening when the looked at you, making you smile in response as you moved your hand to squeezed his.

‘Awwww!’ Mabel cooed as she watched you and her Grunkle look at each other so tenderly. it was obvious to her that you meant a lot to her Grunkle Stan and he meant a lot to you too that she couldn’t help but hope to find a love like yours one day herself. ‘Which is why I think you should both go on a date tonight! Right Dipper?’

Mabel punches dipper in the shoulder. ‘Yeah you both defiantly should go on a date.’ He agrees as he rubs his shoulder.

You and Stan looked at one another and knew that there was no getting out of this one, but you were both kind of excited for it at the same time, after all what was going to happen? You both actually realise you like each other after all this time? Preposterous.

[danikamariewrites]

Sickly

Poly!Batboys x reader

Notes: I’m not sure why but a lot of my poly batboys stuff has been Cassian. At this point I should just make these ideas just Cassian x reader but I love including all the boys

Warnings: mentions of medicine and the flu

Kissing and hugging each of your mates goodbye never gets easier. Today was an exception though. You were excited to stay home alone for a few days—alone time is rare since your mates are always around.

Cassian feels the opposite. You saved his goodbye for last knowing how clingy he gets when he goes away.

“I’m gonna miss you so much, sweetheart.” Cassian groans into your neck as he squeezes you. Patting his shoulder you let out a small ‘aww’.

“I’m going to miss you too, baby.” You move to let go but Cassian tightens his hold on you. Rhys lets out a deep sigh. “Cassian, we have to go. Now.”

Cass groans louder, finally releasing you. He ruffles your hair and gives you a small pout. “Bye, sweetheart. We’ll be back in a few days.” He says genuinely sad. You smirk and raise a brow at him. “I know that, do you know that?”

Cassian messes your hair again as Az moves to pull him out the door. “Bye! I love you guys!” You yell after them. “Bye, sweetheart!” Azriel rolls his eyes, “She knows Cass. She will be fine.”

“But what if she isn’t-” before Cassian can get another word out Rhys winks at you, grabbing onto the males to winnow away.

Shutting the door you take the stairs two at a time to your personal chambers. Nuala and Cerridwin had set up a spa night for you and without the boys interrupting you it was sure to be a peaceful one.

Hours later with your hair brushed and braided the twins helped you settle into bed. While your mates would only be away for a few days you were going to revel in this short lived peace.

Your peace was, unfortunately, was shorter lived than you expected. When Nuala came to wake you for breakfast she found you absolutely miserable. Cough, runny nose, aches, and a fever that had her snatching her hand away from your forehead as if you burned her. You had tried to wave it off as nothing but a cold.

“Should I call for the High Lord to return?” Nuala asked carefully. You shook your head slowly so as not to aggravate your sinuses. “No. I’ll be fine, I just need to rest.”

“As you wish, my lady.” Nuala bowed before leaving you.

About halfway through day two you were wishing for your mates to come home and take care of you. You dreamed of Rhys using his powers to take your pain away so you could sleep peacefully. But you couldn’t find it in you to call them home knowing how important their work is.

But today they were finally on their way back. They promised you they’d be back in time for breakfast. All morning, every sound had you jolting to stay awake as you waited in bed.

Your eyes fluttered open as a large calloused hand cupped your cheek, tsking at how warm you felt.

“Hi sweetheart,” Cassian whispered. You mumble an incoherent greeting thanks to your lips feeling too heavy and your tongue sticking to the roof of your dry mouth.

“Has she been sick since we left?” Cassian asked softly, but you could hear the restraint in his voice. You didn’t have to open your eyes to know his jaw was clenched. “Yes,” Nuala replied smoothly, “she didn’t want to call you all home, insisting she rests. Madja has seen her and left tonics.”

Cassian’s fist clenches in your hair, quickly releasing so he wouldn’t hurt you. “Thank you, for keeping an eye on her.” “Of course.” The wraith bows her head, turning on her heel to leave.

Cassian always hated leaving you in case something happened. Even if it was just a cold, Cass wanted to be there to save you from it. The fact that you’ve been suffering for three days without him makes his stomach tie in knots from guilt.

“Can I get you anything? Did you take any tonics yet?” He asks softly.

“No,” you mumble. “Will you get it for me, and some toast?” Cassian leaves a light kiss on your forehead. “Of course I can, I’ll be right back.”

In his absence Rhys and Azriel check on you. The pair dote on you, telling you about the snowfall in the Illyrian mountains. You were starting to wish you went with them, but winter would arrive in Velaris soon.

When Cassian returns he gives the two males a scowl reserved for his soldiers. “Cass, this is not an I-told-you-so moment.” Rhys tells him gently.

“Out, so I can take care of our mate.”

Rhys and Az hesitate, not wanting to leave you while you’re sick.

“You two should go. I don’t want to get all of you sick.” You pout at them, giving them sad eyes for good measure. The pair conceded and left you in Cassian’s care. Az gave you a quick peck on your forehead before Cassian shooed him away.

You watch as Cassian rips your toast up into bite sized pieces to feed to you. You smile at him with hearts in your eyes. Watching the General of the Night Court do something as mundane as angling the straw in your water cup so you don’t worry about spills just makes you fall in love all over again.

Cassian feeds you a few pieces of the ripped up toast before handing you the tonic. As he cuddles up to you Cass lays a cool cloth on your forehead, relieving your high temperature and the splitting headache he knows is coming. A satisfied hum leaves your lips as you snuggle closer to Cassian. “Thank you,” you say quietly. He lightly kisses the top of your head, “Of course, sweetheart.”

[cottonlemonade]

Help Wanted

word count: 656 || avg. reading time: 3 mins.

pairing: University AU!Tendou x chubby!Reader

genre: smut

warnings: mdni, nsfw

Tendou would have liked to say that he was a gentleman. But when you showed up in his dorm room and announced that you were sick and tired of being labeled the campus virgin and begged your best friend to just have sex with you, Tendou didn’t actually hesitate for more than three seconds before shrugging and saying, “Alright.”, making room for you on his bed.

His roommate blinked at the two of you before packing up his laptop and mumbling something about “going to study at the library then”.

He knew he should have maybe talked you out of it but his mind was too busy screaming at the opportunity. He figured, he’d casually invite you for coffee afterwards in the cafeteria or maybe order a pizza and then confess to you over some melty cheese that he’s been in love with you since that time you used red hair spray to dye your hair, just so you could raise your hand for him at roll call while he was busy finishing up a paper in the library at the last minute. You had worn one of his hoodies (a new one he bought several sizes too big just so he could lend it to you without you commenting that his stuff wouldn’t fit you) and his roommate had walked in on him sniffing the collar with deep deep breaths.

And now he lay between your plush thighs, heart pounding, licking his lips in anticipation as he peeled your panties aside. You’re still wearing a shirt which he found unfortunate but there was no rush.

Before he began, he stressed how important it was to ease into it. He didn’t want to hurt you, of course, so he thought, good long foreplay and maybe making you cum first would be a good idea.

He leaned in and set a couple soft kisses on your soft pussy. You gasped and tried to close your legs with him still at work. He looked up at you, asking if you want to stop. Wordlessly, you just opened your legs again and he grinned, swiping his tongue through the folds.

“You taste sweet…”, he commented and you hid your face under your arms but moaned when he used his fingers to expose your clit.

Wanting to make it a more interactive learning experience he brought his right index to your lips, “Can you wet that for me?”

You hesitate for a moment, peaking out from under your chubby arms and then because you really needed to him to continue, sucked it into your mouth.

“Mmmh, I can only imagine what those lips would do to a cock. But we can do that next time.”

Bringing his slick finger down to him, he began ghosting it over your clit. The noises falling from your lips had him throb in his boxers. Tendou increased the pressure ever so slightly, pushing the little pink button to the left and right, watching happily now wet you already became. He slurped loudly, enjoying every drop of you like the first iced tea of the summer.

“I’m gonna put a finger into you now.”, he announced and your expression, already so deliciously dazed, changed to new excitement. You gave a small nod and he slowly pushed into you, stroking your gummy walls.

“You’re so cute… I’m gonna put a second finger in, okay?”

You nod again. This time, he decided to tease a bit.

“You gotta talk to me, gorgeous.”

“Yes, please put a second finger in.”, you replied breathily and moaned loudly when he started to move them in and out.

“Now, I wonder what would happen if I’d suck your little clit now, too. - What do you think would happen?”

“I’d…. You’d make me cum.”, you said quietly, a definite whine in your voice.

“That sounds like fun. Let’s do that, hm? Let’s make you cream on my fingers.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

compos mentis 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, chronic health issues, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: After a long court case, your mother stays attached to her lawyer, bringing even more contention into your life.

Characters: Andy Barber

Note:Double does of Andricus.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

“My lawyer will hear about this!” Your mother snarls and you shy away. 

She always has to make a scene. You don’t even understand why she’s doing this. All they did was forget to put a fork in the bag. The poor employee behind the counter looks ready to snap as they wipe their sweaty hands on their apron. 

“My daughter is sick and you can’t remember a fork! It’s so much for her to come back in here!” She snarls. 

“Mom, I could wait in the car--” 

“Be quiet. Oh yes, I want corporate’s number, right now. I will be certain my attorney gives them a call about you...” she squints at the girl’s name tag, “Tina!” 

“Mom, please,” you pout. 

“Oh honey,” she turns and pets your head dramatically, then look at the worker as she cradles your face and adjusts the tube under your nose, “look at her. Look what you’re doing to her.” 

You hold back the flood of tears. You hate when she does this. You just want to be invisible but she always has to make you front and centre. She always has to tell everyone how sick and helpless you are. 

“Mom,” you moan. 

“Ugh, whatever,” she tears away and snaps her fingers, “give me the fork. And I expect a complimentary salad as well.” 

“Ma’am, we can’t do that,” Tina says dully. 

“What do you mean you can’t do that?” 

“Here,” Tina reaches under the counter and pulls out a card, “that’s the number for head office. I’ll grab you a fork.” 

She turns and takes out one of the bamboo forks. Your mother snarls and squeezes the card until it folds. She snatches the fork and throws it back at the worker. 

“Are you kidding? She can’t eat with this! She’ll get splinters.” 

“I want to go, mom,” you whine. 

She shrugs off your touch on her arm, “Mr. Barber, DA, will hear about this!” 

She stomps and spins. You turn slowly to follow as she’s already halfway to the door. You're already forgotten. You roll your tank with you as you curl your shoulders and awkwardly angle it through the door. 

Your mom’s a bluffer. Andy isn’t the DA. Not yet. He’s only the assistant. And he isn’t her lawyer. Not anymore. Once she won the lawsuit against the hospital, he traded in that title for boyfriend. And now she has a ring on her finger which means he’s soon be stepdad. You don’t think you can ever call him that.  

You avoid him as much as you can. Not because you dislike him, because you don’t know him. Aside from him coaching you to take the stand, you didn’t know much about him. You don’t have the energy to know more. Besides, he isn’t there for you. You’re just the unfortunate burden left for your mother to care for. 

You get to the car, heart racing, and shake as you struggle to get the door open. Your mother has the engine rumbling already and you can barely move around as you’re too dizzy to set your feet. You fall into the seat and strain to drag the oxygen tank between your legs. You really should have more space. 

You wiggle your chafed nose. Your mouth and nostrils are always painfully dry. You get your belt on and reach into the belt bag you keep on you at all times. You santize your hands from the mini bottle then take out the vaseline to apply to your dry skin. 

You lurch back as your mother veers out of the lot. You jostle with the movement and struggle to put the cap back on the tin. You tuck it away at last as her bluetooth dials out. 

“Andrew,” your mother greets the Assistant DA before he can speak. He sighs. You’ve heard him tell her over and over not to call him that. “You won’t believe what just happened. The way they gawk at us when we’re just trying to live like normal people!” 

She squawks on in one of her rants and you can only sit there and listen along with the man at the other end of the call. In the background, you make out the shuffle of paper and typing of keys. You shift as your mother cranks the real and you hear something rustle. You look back and groan. 

“Mom, the food spilled,” you utter. 

“Andrew!” She ignores you as she grips the steering wheel tighter, “are you even listening?” 

“Yeah, I heard. The food spilled. Why don’t you come by the office? I’m just finishing up. I’ll just take you ladies out.” He offers. 

You really don’t want that. You don’t like to go out. You only went to the wrap shop because your mom insisted after your last appointment. You’re always exhausted after all the tests. 

“Oh, gosh, that would be lovely,” she trills, “how about it, honey?” She doesn’t wait for your answer. “I’ll head over there right now. I hope you don’t mind, I won’t have time to change. We had a long day with the doctor.” 

“That’s fine. I just need to send these notes over and I’ll be all done,” he explains. “How about you, sweetheart? Feeling up to some linguine?” 

You don’t realise he’s talking to you until he says your name clearly. You gulp, “yes, sir.” 

“Oh, silly,” your mom reaches over to swat you, “she still calls you that.” 

He chuckles from the other end, “big changes. We’re all adjusting. Anyway, see you shortly. I got someone at my door.” 

“Bye, sweetie,” she sings and the line dies. 

She huffs and rolls her eyes. Her smile falls away. “I bet it’s that damned legal aid. Have you seen the way she dresses? Oh, how she flutters her eyes at my fiance?” 

You just grumble and nod. As usual, she isn’t looking for two-sided conversation. She tells, she doesn’t talk. 

“This will be nice. A family dinner. All of us. Honey, you really do need to loosen up with him. The wedding will be here before we know it.” 

You shrug, “I know. I’m not... I’m trying.” 

“I know, I know. The case was so much and then to think, it brought us all together. But this is the best we can hope for. The settlement is great but taking care of you, it’s so much. It’ll be nice to have help,” she chatters on. 

You zone out her usual gripes. She has a way of complaining about you without really saying it outright. You know you’ve made her life harder. Always sick, always helpless. You asked her to hire you a nurse with the settlement but she convinced you to put the money in a trust. It will be worth much more in ten years, honey... 

She pulls around the building with its staunch white pillars. The sight of them casts a wave of deja vu over you. You thought once all was said and done in court, you’d never have to come there again. It’s humiliating enough to be gawked at in public but to be put in front of an audience like that... 

You’re just sensitive. That’s what your mom says. She’s right. You wouldn’t know. You’ve never had to be on your own. She’s always been the one doing everything. 

She parks and gets out and you carefully lift your tank out of the car, not wanting to touch the cold shell. You stand and lean on it, rolling it ahead of you. You follow her inside as she hardly misses a beat. You can hardly keep up. 

She steps onto the elevator and tuts at you to hurry up. You get on and she hits the buttons impatiently. You get off on a floor, letting her lead you as you keep your head down. Her clicking heels keep you in line. 

“Danica,” Andy greets your mom by name, “just in time.” 

“Mm, there you are,” her response is curt.  

You look up at Andy as he leans on the desk of his aide. She’s a pretty blond woman named Gwen with shiny nails. She smiles as he stands on his own weight. 

“How are you?” Andy offers a one-armed hug. 

“Good,” she wraps him up and plants a kiss on his cheek as he dodges her lips. “How are you, sweetie?” 

“Tired, long day,” he replies stiffly. He looks at you, “hey, you look beat.” 

“A little,” you mutter. 

“You sure you’re up to it? We can just order in,” he offers. 

“I’m okay,” you say as your mother looks at you sharply. Better to just do what she wants. 

“I don’t mind,” he insists. 

“Oh, but sweetie, you said we’d go out. Don’t you want to have a nice dinner with your fiancee?” She smirks at Gwen. 

You want to turn into dust. This is torturous. You’re light-headed and uncomfortable. Andy keeps his arm around your mom, “see ya, Gwen. You get going. I don’t want people thinking I’m a tryant.” 

He struts towards you and puts his hand on your arm to turn you around. You walk beside him and his touch falls to your lower back. You want to pull away but you can’t. The wheels on your tank squeak with each step. 

You’re happy to detach from Andy as the elevator doors open. You wait and your mom steps on first by Andy doesn’t. He waves you in ahead of him and grunts. He doesn’t rsay anything to your mom but you can sense tension. 

“How about I drive? You can come with me in the morning and get your car,” Andy suggests, “save some mileage.” 

“Oh, that would be so nice. I’d love some chardonnay with dinner,” she bubbles. 

He steps between you and taps the button. His sleeve brushes you as you hunch lower. Your head is really bugging you. You just want to sleep. Or maybe you’re just hungry. 

“Looks like it hurt,” Andy points to your bandaged hand. You peek at it and shake your head. 

“IV. Just bruised,” you answer. 

“Ah, no fun,” he remarks. “Well, now you don’t have to worry about the hospital bills, huh? Got you all tucked away.” 

“It’s so wonderful,” your mom latches onto his arm. “You take such good care of us, baby.” 

“Mm, doing my best. Can’t be easy with a sick kid.” 

“No, no, not easy. But oh, you helped so much. I mean, how dare that hospital just dismiss us like that. They could’ve killed her. Malpractice if I ever saw it, and you would know, being a lawyer and all,” she says tritely. 

You stay silent. You don’t like talking about it. It’s over, so why do you have to keep reliving it? She seemed to bask in the attention it got her while you hated every minute of it. 

As you stare at the bottom of the doors, you feel a tickle on your hand. You wince but don’t pull away. You think, at first, it’s a stray hair. You glance over and find Andy rubbing his finger against your hand. You grip the handle of your tank tighter and swallow. What is he doing? 

He stands with his head straight, his shoulders high, as if he’s doing nothing at all. Maybe he doesn’t realise. You don’t move. You’re frozen in indecision. You don’t want to pull away in case you embarrass him. 

Surely, it’s unintentional. You’re just some sick woman still living with her mother. You’re frail and helpless and you can’t even breathe on your own. 

No, it’s just a mistake. A mix-up. He’s probably lost in thought, the way he gets. When he sits and stares at you but sees nothing at all. 

The elevator opens and he rescinds his touch. He waves you through first, and you shuffle ahead of him. Your mom follows and he brings up the rear. You need to sit down soon. 

You go outside into the cool evening air and make your way to his car. Your mother stomps ahead in her heels but he stays at a pace with you. You can never keep up. As you reach his SUV, you hesitate. You forget how much bigger his car is. So high up. 

“Can I help?” He offers as he follows you to the back door. He opens it for you as you spin your tank around. 

“I’m... okay,” you lift the tank first and he quickly scoops his hand under the wheels to help. You grab onto the door to haul yourself up. His hand brushes your hip as you do and you swing into the seat. “Thanks.” 

“Not at all, sweetheart,” he lays his hand on your knee and gives a quick squeeze. “You sure you don’t need anything?” 

You shake your head and close your eyes. You’re completely worn out. You need to save what little you have left for dinner. 

“Alright,” he lets go and shuts the door.  

He gets in the front as your mother hums, “let’s go. I’m starving.” 

[imsilay]

APPETENCE

hey, idk how i managed to finish A WORK but here we are. MDNI. please :>

“C’mon liebling, you can do one more f’me” he mumbled softly as his fingers caressed your spine softly, running up and down within the length of it. “Didn’t you missed me?” his voice thick and low with arousal. You whined and squirmed on his lap with the feeling of his cum oozing out of your abused and puffy lips. He had been going for an hour and he looked like he had no intention of stopping any soon. His big palms covered the small of your back and massaged the sore muscles, earning a grunt from you.

“Do you ever get tired?” you whined and buried your head into his cloth covered neck. His mask was covering his expressions but you could just feel him pout at your words. “No, liebling.” he mumbled, squeezing your sides softly. “And here i was thinking i’m the old one.” you could hear the faint disappointment hidden in his voice. You felt like someone ripped open your ribs and punched you in the heart. The last thing you wanted was to disappoint him. Oh and he made sure to use that.

That manipulative bastard. You hated him for knowing you so well.

“Just one more.” your muttered and god he was like a child who got permission to eat candy. The candy being you, he grabbed you by your middle and lifted you up until he could line up his thick cock to your entrance. You dug your nails onto his shoulders aa he slowly sunk deep inside you, his tip kissing the sweetest spot inside your pulsing walls. “So fucking good.” he breathed, head trown back to headboard. You could see his adam’s apple bobbing up and down as you sat still on his cock. Neither of you made an attempt to move, he relished the feeling of your walls engulfing his cock to the brim and you tried to adjust the fullness. You could feel the sweat sliding on your back as you got more and more hot. König wasn’t any different from you, his bare torso and neck glistened with sweat, his chest rose and fell with quick breaths.

He was used to all kinds of tortures but none of them were as hard as being away from you. Not being able to feel any part of you or hear your sweet voice drove him mad. He was barking orders and slaughtering enemies, taking all of his anger out off the poor recruits and unlucky enemies that dared to stand on his way. Yet being the killing machine he was, he never dared to hurt you. Even with his words he was always on the thin ice. Thinking thousands of times before saying a word to you and restraining his hands in his pockets around you so he wouldn’t be all over you. Sometimes the urge to manhandle you around almost would get the best of him and he would fold his arms around his chest firmly, the voices in his heads screaming at him to grab your wrists and pin them to your back. Then he could bend you over that couch and pound into you like his sick mind wanted. But no, the day his hands landed on you, he swore that he’d cut them.

Handling you was such a delicate job, and he was as careful as a gardener with their favorite flower. His fingers grazed the soft skin of your sides as he brought them up, up to your cheeks. His calloused and lengthy fingers wiped the tears even you haven’t noticed yet. You shivered although you were burning inside. Leaning into his palm you fisted the hem of his mask, wanting nothing more than ripping it off and kissing him like the whole night you wanted. But you knew better, he had a rule.

The mask stays on. Which unfortunately meant no kiss for you.

“Easy.” he whispered softly, other hand that wasn’t holding your face pushed you into his chest. Your cunt clenched around his hard shaft. Your arousal dripped and soaked his balls. You squirmed when your sensitive nipples brushed against his chest. You could feel his muscular chest and toned abs right against your bare skin. The skin to skin contact calmed you down but it didn’t helped the way his thick cock spread you open. “Calm your adorable little butt down liebling. If you keep squirming i won’t be able to wait.” he breathed, biting down on his lip and pressing your body still against his with two big arms. “Then don’t.” you moaned, snapping the thin ropes that kept him together. His arms hold you still as he started to drag his cock in and out of you.

He started off slowly, finding a pace that made you nuzzle his neck and breath him in. And he kept picking up the pace as your moans hot louder and louder until you were screaming and the bed was making creaking noises. He cursed under his breath then bit his tongue to not moan like the whore he was. He couldn’t take it anymore. With a quick maneuver you were facing the ceiling and his big palms were grabbing your ankles. He looked godly as he kissed each ankle before throwing your legs over his shoulders and making you squeak with his tip kissing your cervix. Your feet dangled over his shoulders as he grabbed your waist and lifted you slightly off the bed until the angle was just right and he was reaching the deepest part of you with the each thrust.

You grabbed the sheets for dear life as he fucked you nice, fast and properly. Soon your walls pulsed and clenched around him, forcing him to cum inside you and milking every last drop of his cum. He replaced you carefully on the bed slowly pulling out off you and watching as his cum dripped out of your cunt. He wished his phone was near to film it. After a while of adoring the view he slumped on top of you like a weighted blanked. Very heavyweighted blanked. He pushed his mask above his lips and lazily sucked hickeys around your neckline. He was imagining to do it since you were bouncing on top of him at the beginning of the night. “Mein, mein, mein.” he whispered, hoping that you wouldn’t hear or understand but you heard and understood. Like every other nights. You were used to being claimed by him. You were his, at the end.

-

not proofread no nothing, just enjoy :>

a/n: please support me by reblogging, if you liked the content ofc <3 your comments also makes my day :* and i love to reply all of them :>

[roguishcat]

A welcome distraction

Summary: Astarion was not nice. Nothing about him was even remotely nice. Such a bland, plain word that carried little to no meaning. But perhaps, given the right incentive, he could be persuaded to be nice to the one person who he felt deserved it most.

Tags: Fluff, tooth-rotting fluff

Pairing: Astarion x female Tav

One-shot, 2.3k words

Set in the beggining of Act II.

Astarion stretched out languidly on Tav’s bedroll, watching her as she looked through their magic trinkets to decide which ones they could do without. Ever since Gale came to her, confessing everything, telling her of his folly, Tav has taken extra care to set aside an item or two that the wizard could consume.

Now, if this was done out of sense of self-preservation, that would be completely understandable. It would be quite unfortunate for that orb in his chest to get so volatile it would just explode at random. Such a waste that would be. The world would lose its most beautiful creature! And just as he was starting to enjoy his freedom! And he supposed the wizard had his uses too.

Astarion blinked slowly and sighed. As nice as it was to have no one try to murder them for a change, he was getting bored. And his favourite source of entertainment seemed to have no time on her hands for him.

And that just wouldn’t do.

He moved closer to Tav and lifted his hand to rest on her head, running his fingers through her hair and then lower down to caress the exposed skin of her neck. Astarion knew that he was distracting her, that was the whole point of the gentle, feather-light touches that made goosebumps rise on her exposed arms. And when that garnered no reaction, Astarion lifted himself up to press his chest against her back, snaking his arms around her middle.

“Darling,” he said smoothly, kissing her shoulder, making a move to lift her shirt enough with insistent hands to expose skin and trace slow patterns just above her hipbones, “don’t you think it’s time for a break?”

“As nice as that sounds, I still have to go through all the scrolls and potions.”

“Nice? I can’t promise anything that uninspired,” he scoffed. Nothing about him was even remotely nice. Such a bland, plain word that carried little to no meaning.

“Something wicked, however,” he drawled, his lips almost touching Tav’s ear “that I could definitely provide.”

“Well, as delicious as that sounds, I’m not moving until I get this done. But perhaps you could help?”

“Tsk, you are no fun,” he pouted, lifting a necklace with the tip of his finger. “What’s this one supposed to do?”

“Let me just check… Misty Step.”

“Keeping it,” he would have squirreled it away earlier, but a part of him felt a sick sort of dread at taking something without waiting for permission first. It was almost like a reflex more than anything. Not to take without permission, lest he be punished.

“If you want,” Tav shrugged with a smile. “Put it into your pile, it’s that one.”

Astarion inwardly preened when he noted it was one of the bigger piles. He spied a bow and two rings perched on top of a set of armour. He supposed getting nice new things was worth an hour of boredom.

It was still a novel concept. Having things of his own. Being given what he needed or simply wanted with no strings attached. And it wasn’t just him that got such treatment. Tav tried her best to make sure that everyone was taken care of to the best of her ability.

Astarion would probably never admit it unless faced with decapitation, but Tav has really started to grow on him. The pleasant manner in which she carried herself, the ferocious way in which she fought, the unwavering loyalty to those she considered friends.

That was yet another novel concept, having friends.

 “Darling, I can’t help but notice that you didn’t choose anything for yourself.”

“I don’t need anything right now.”

That was a lie. Her armour breathed its last when they went up against the goblins to protect the Grove. She could definitely use a new pair of boots too.

“As sweet as you are for thinking of others before yourself, I would rather you not become a pincushion next time we are ambushed. Here,” he picked a set of armour at random, “take this.”

“And Shadowheart will have to do without, I suppose?” she raised an eyebrow.

“She’s a cleric. She can heal herself,” Astarion gave a nonchalant shrug. He didn’t care much about what happened to Shadowheart.

Tav laughed, making something warm and pleasant bloom in his chest. He hated how much he enjoyed hearing her laugh.

“Well, this armour is a bit too heavy for me anyway,” she put the armour back and added a couple of scrolls that Shadowheart could make use of. “Maybe I will pick something up next time we need to sell stuff.”

She was right. They did amass quite a collection of useless nick knacks when they looted the abandoned houses in the Blighted Village. And lugging all the bits and bobs that Tav insisted on taking with them was getting rather tedious. Not that he carried much personally. However, he imagined if Lae’zel caught onto him having the lightest load, the gith would personally make sure that his pack would be stuffed to capacity.

Except when they went to sell the items, she once again did not buy anything for herself. Astarion could not understand her ridiculous altruism! Not that he cared that much, but still. Tav dying would most definitely throw a wrench in his plans. Therefore, with that in mind only, he bought Tav new armour, bow and boots.

Strange. The first time he spent money in years, and it wasn’t even on buying something for himself!

The next day, Tav woke up to find that someone had been to her tent. And that mysterious someone left her gifts. Brows furrowing, she picked up a pair of boots. They were clearly enchanted and probably not something they could afford at the moment. And that begged the question, who would splurge so much and not even give it to her personally?

She admired the armour and ran her fingers over the leather. As she shifted it slightly sideways to have a better look at the clasps, something sparkled in a stray ray of light that got in through the slight opening in the tent flap.

Tav noticed the necklace perched on top of the pile.

“Misty Step,” she murmured, a small smile tugging on her lips as her fingers ghosted over the rest of the gifts.

Changing and making herself somewhat presentable, she walked out of her tent and towards Astarion’s, greeting Gale as he prepared their breakfast. To their delight, the group recently stumbled upon a cellar filled with boxes upon boxes of food. Gale was especially pleased at having the opportunity to prepare proper meals for a change rather than have two or three odd ingredients to work with.

When Tav opened the flap of Astarion’s tent and walked in, the elf was already up and apparently deeply engrossed in his book, not even bothering to look up to greet her. Tav waited a beat, but Astarion pointedly refused to acknowledge her. Which Tav knew he had to be doing on purpose, because there was no way that he couldn’t hear her breathing and the staccato of her heartbeat as she grew more nervous by the minute.

Crouching by him, she put her hand on top of the page.

“Darling, as much as I enjoy your presence in my tent, you are distracting me from my reading.”

“I see. Good book?”

“It is. Absolutely riveting.”

She decided not to comment on the fact that he had already read this book twice, as they didn’t come across any new reading material that was of interest to Astarion.

“Help me put this on?” she smiled and handed him the necklace, holding her hair up and leaving her neck exposed, making Astarion’s mouth water.

“Tsk, can’t manage without me, darling?” he teased, but put his book aside.

“I can. But I’d much rather you did it.”

Gently, he slid the jewellery in its place, letting his fingers linger on her skin a touch longer than necessary and making Tav sigh contently.

“Thank you,” she pecked his cheek. “Thank you for looking after me.”

“I don’t know what you are talking about. But perhaps come nightfall,” he leaned closer and all but purred, “I could look after you in a-”

“Astarion,” Tav put her fingers on his lips, “thank you.”

“Oh, please! You thought it was me? Darling! Giving you a necklace? Out of all mundane, unimaginative things to gift!”

Astarion inwardly kicked himself. What was he thinking, trading her smile for a blunt comment like that? It wasn’t the way he usually operated. It was counterintuitive, it was stupid. He was supposed to be furthering her attraction to him, so what in the hells was he doing by telling her that the gifts came from another?

“Mmhh, of course it couldn’t have been you,” Tav agreed easily, laying a tender kiss on the underside of his jaw and then another just below his ear, “so sorry for the misunderstanding.”

“I -I argh,” he shuddered as blunt teeth nibbled on his earlobe, “apology accepted.”

“So… who do you propose I should thank then?” Tav breathed against his cheek and then looked him in the eyes.

“Excuse me?” Astarion frowned as she moved away.

“Well, if it wasn’t you that left the armour, the necklace-

“And boots!” he interjected quickly.

“Ah yes, thank you for reminding me,” she nodded, running her hands down his arms to take his cool hands into her own. “Who should I be thanking instead of you, hm?”

“I know! It was probably Shadowheart,” she said with an air of someone having an eureka moment.

“Shadowheart?!”

“No, it couldn’t have been her,” she mused, letting go of his hand to tap a finger on her lips as she pretended to think hard. “Shadowheart didn’t come with us to the vendor. Must be Wyll then, he did comment on my boots being worse for wear.”

“Wyll just spent half the journey flirting with Lae’zel!” Astarion spat with distaste, sounding rather like a scandalised virgin gossiping about a debutante with a questionable reputation.

“True, true. Well, that leaves Gale. Unless it was the only other person who came with me yesterday…”

Astarion swallowed and pouted but didn’t say anything.

“How silly of me to assume it was you. I’ll let you get back to your reading. Off I go to give Gale a proper thank you.”

Tav rose and let go of his hand, making Astarion panic a little. Like hells Gale would be the one getting recognition for the nice thing that he did!

Rising quickly, Astarion grabbed Tav’s waist. She squealed when he spun her round roughly, pressing her body to his.

“You are not going anywhere, you cheeky pup,” he whispered against her neck, his cool breath making Tav shiver involuntarily and grasp onto his shirt.

“And since you insist on thanking me, I will graciously accept your gratitude.”

He was a benevolent creature, after all. And since Tav was in the mood to shower him with affection, he supposed he could allow it.

“Thank you,” she kissed his cheek.

“Thank you,” his forehead, just under an errant curl that fell over his eyes as he tilted his head forward.

“Thank you,” she pressed her lips to his, making Astarion groan as he deepened the kiss, one hand steadying Tav whilst the other travelled lower. He nibbled on her swollen, pouty lower lip, enjoying the delicious mewling sound she made and then-

“Breakfast is ready!” Gale’s voice rang jarringly loud from somewhere outside the tent, startling Tav. She withdrew with a sigh, looking more than a little disappointed at having to leave. Ever the dutiful leader, ready to start her day and selflessly brush aside her own wants and needs.

Astarion was having none of that.

“Where do you think you are going, hm?”

“Um, well..” Tav began, but found herself to be quite mesmerised with the heated, predatory look he was giving her.

“I haven’t had my breakfast yet, and I am feeling simply ravenous.”

He pulled the collar of her shirt aside, admiring the way the necklace rested against her skin and then his eyes travelled lower down still as Astarion mused about whether he was being too traditional by drinking from her neck when there were such tantalising, mouthwatering choices to be made.

“May I?” he murmured, trailing his nose against her collarbone, then lower and lower still, brushing against the necklace that rose and fell with her breaths. Astarion felt Tav’s fingers gently thread through his curls, skimming along his ears in a way that had him suppressing a moan.

“Yes.”

She always said yes. And recently rather than thinking her a fool for it, Astarion felt… something else. He couldn’t explain what it was that he felt even if he tried. But Tav was becoming more than a means to an end. More than a target. More than a night that was better to forget.

Weeks later, he would find that she was the light that illuminated the darkest recesses of his mind and soul. The warmth that welcomed and comforted him, preventing him from retreating into himself when he was hit with the horror of what he had done in his years of slavery. She would come to be the only person that he truly cared about. But he didn’t know that yet.

As he drank, Astarion decided that perhaps he would allow himself to enjoy whatever this was. Not overthink it. For now, he would let himself linger on the precipice of making the discovery of what exactly Tav was to him without worrying of what would happen once he fell.

For now, he would let himself enjoy not having to worry about what tomorrow would bring. For now, she would be his most welcome distraction.

💖 Tag list 💖:

@ninty900, @ayselluna, @dajeong, @ravenswritingroom,

@misscrissfemmefatale, @clazberryk, @anukulee, @preciouslittlebhaalbae,

@sh3rl0ck, @mellowenthusiast2299, @fleetstreet78,

@starlight-rogue,

@obsessedwhyyes, @arzen9

[bwabys-scenarios]

Hello!! I love your hantengu x Wifey! Reader, I been giggling and kicking my feet while reading this fluff, But i have a questions of this story, like.. how did the clones and reader got married? How did they met? What makes them fall for reader (or how reader fall for them? :D

How the hantengu clones found their wife

Warnings: slightly suggestive

PART 1

PART 2

It was the dead of winter, and (Name) had been taking care of her parents cabin the best she could. The young woman lived by herself ever since her parents had passed away from sickness. Although she tolerated the cold and loneliness to protect her childhood home, she often felt lonely in the large cabin.

After gathering all the firewood she could carry, she placed the damp logs and twigs next to the already roaring fire to dry. She heaved an older log into the flames, then turned away to work on dinner.

(Name) hosted a pot onto her stove to prepare a meal for herself when she heard a cry from outside. She froze in her spot, clutching her shirt in fright. The anguish in the voice caused her heart to throb.

“H-help! Please!”

(Name) had always had a heart of gold. In her youth shed rescue wildlife and go into town to help the elderly with tasks. Now she was a woman, and knew better than to go outside into the night when she heard someone call for help. It could be a trap.

This didn’t stop her from throwing on her thickest coat and snow shoes, though. She slid her door open, then closed it behind her. In her knife she held a kitchen knife, and in the other a lantern.

“H-hello?” She called into the darkness, holding her coat closed over her chest. The knife was now differ behinds the thick folds of her coat, though the feeling of its cold blade against her skin did little to comfort her.

She approached the woods, where the sound had been coming from. When she finally reached her destination, she gasped and quickly dropped her knife to kneel down next to a figure in the snow.

The figure belonged to an older man, who’s appearance was obviously strange. He gasped out when she reached out to touch him, covering his face and crying.

“You- you’re with them aren’t you? Don’t hurt me!”

(Name)’s gaze softened and she kneeled down in the snow, slowly reaching down to cup his cheek. “Sir, I’m not here to hurt you. I’m not with anyone, promise.”

He whimpered, lightly leaning into her soft feminine touch. She smiled and helped him up, before realizing he wouldn’t be able to walk.

“Oh, sorry, I’ll carry you.”

The man was surprisingly light. She feared he may be an abused elder, something that was on a rise in her community. Sometimes the sleepy would wander the forest and beg to not be sent back home, but unfortunately that’s all she could usually do. Harboring a missing person could land her in jail, and she certainly did not want that!

“You’re too kind… so kind.”

(Name) could feel his tears run down her neck as he cried. She tried her best to ignore the feeling of his tears slowly turning to ice against her skin.

Once they were inside, she helped the gentleman into bed. It was dark inside her home now, and though she had candlelight and could certainly tell he looked strange, this wasn’t going to stop her from caring for him.

“Sir, can you tell me what happened? Did someone hurt you?”

(Name) squeezed out some excess water from a rag and laid it on his forehead. He was surprisingly warm, his breathing shallow.

“I was poisoned…”

“What?! Oh dear I’ll need to fetch a doctor right-“

The man grabbed her wrist as she turned to leave with surprising force. He released her before she could process his overwhelming strength.

“No doctors. This will go away on its own… just need rest.”

(Name) nodded slowly, sitting down next to him. As the night went on, he requested she tightly close the blinds, stating sunlight would worsen the poison. She didn’t know a poison that would react to sunlight, nevertheless she did as she was told.

“Sir, are you hungry? I was just about to cook dinner.”

The man pondered her words for a moment, before nodding. “Yes. Thank you.”

She grinned, pushing the hair out of his face.

“One last thing. What’s your name?”

He sighed, content to have such a kind woman watching over him. “Hantengu.”

—————

(Name) busied herself in the kitchen, putting together a simple beef stew. It would have enough nutrients for someone sick and be quick enough to feed the two before going to bed.

When she finished she slowly hand fed her guest, cleaning his face after. He thanked her after he finished and grasped her hand.

“You have such beautiful hands, (Name). You would make a wonderful wife, you know?”

(Name)’s face heated up and she laughed, waving her hand. “No, no, I’m not good enough to be someone’s wife. I’m just a simple woman.”

Hantengu didn’t reply, only squeezing her hand lightly, before falling asleep. (Name) slipped her hand from his grasp and tiptoed away.

She undressed, hanging up her winter kimono and slipping on a nightgown. She looked at herself in the mirror, sighed, then tucked herself into bed.

———————

‘Mmm… warm…’

(Name) snuggled into something warm, the feeling enveloping her. The cold of the winter was far from her mind, the only thing she could think of was…

‘Wait… why do I feel hands on my waist?’

(Name)’s eyes shot open, and try as she might she couldn’t get up. She looked around her surroundings to try and see what was holding her down, only for shock to take over.

Laying on either side of her were extremely muscular men. They had a strange demonic look to them, with horns sprouting from their heads, one of them even having wings!!

“You’re finally awake, (Name)~”

The one behind her nuzzled into her neck, gently nipping at weak spots. She gasped, reaching her hands back to gently push him away. Her action did nothing, pushing the man felt like pushing a metal statue. His yellow eyes watched her in amusement.

“Aww, look, she’s so confused!”

She quickly turned to face the man in front of her who lied on his side to stare at her. He smirked, tilting her chin up to take a better look at her face.

“Sekido was right, she is perfect.”

(Name) blinked, watching the man in front of her lean in closer. She slammed her eyes shut, only to have the feeling of his tongue sliding down her cheek.

“Tastes so sweet. Urogi, tell the others she’s awake.”

Once Urogi left the room, the other man pulled her into his lap. He bounced her up and down on his leg, pulling at her nightgown.

“H-hey! Stop that!” She pulled the hem of her nightgown away, her cheeks flushed. He only chuckled, moving his hands from her night up to her waist.

“So soft and warm. Humans always are so soft and smell so good, but you smell the best. Mmm…”

He buried his nose in her hair, inhaling deeply. (Name) couldn’t help but whimper at the man’s close proximity. She’d lived a quiet life with her parents, and now some creature was fondling her in her childhood home. Her parents would be so disappointed!

She tried to pretend to dislike the attention she was getting, but couldn’t ignore her fluttering heart. No one had ever treated her like a woman before, and he certainly was.

(Name) jumped when the door opened, nearly falling and hitting her head. Before she could think someone was catching her in their arms.

(Name) looked up to see a demon with the prettiest blue eyes she’d ever seen. He watched her with hesitation, holding her up just long enough to stand in her feet. She didn’t even notice she was leaning into his touch, her only indication was the rumbling of his chest when he spoke.

“(Name), we’ve been waiting for you. Sekido needs to speak with you.”

He spoke as if you had known each other for years, guiding you with his large clawed hands ever so gently to the living room.

Sat on your father’s favorite chair was a man with red eyes, his aura was intimidating. (Name) shrunk away, clinging into the blue eyed man’s side. He pat her head reassuringly.

“Sekido, you may want to try and look less frightening. Humans are fragile beings, and she is a woman.” He was calm, the feeling of (Name) clinging to his side filling his chest with pride. Sekido frowned, but tried his best to remain calm.

(Name) turned and looked at Sekido with her big (e/c) eyes, causing the man to smirk.

“Perfect. Come here, woman.”

When she didn’t move, he turned his gaze to the man. “Aizetsu, bring her.”

Aizetsu obliged, walking forward. “Karaku, bring the ring.”

Sekido pulled the woman into his lap, resting his hand on her stomach. She shivered as his breath tickled her neck.

Karaku walked into the room, holding a purple pouch in his clawed hand. He approached (Name) keeping his eyes locked on hers. She tried, but couldn’t look away from his glowing green orbs.

Karaku plopped the bag into her awaiting hands, giving her a kiss on her forehead before he backed away.

She stared down at the cloth bag, wondering why she had been given it. Sekido’s already short patience wore thin and he yelled at her to open it.

“O-ok!”

She opened the bag, wiggling around in his lap to untangle the cord. He grunted, holding her hips still. She tried to ignore the feeling of something poking her but as she finally got the bag open.

(Name) turned it upside down and shook it lightly. The feeling of cold metal hitting her palm was enough to tell her it had fallen out.

“It’s… a ring.”

(Name) gazed down at the silver ring, a simple crystal in the middle. It was the only jewelry she’d ever held, and she was immediately captivated by it.

“Yes. I heard human women like to be proposed to with rings.” Sekido smirked, his chest swelling with pride. She turned to look at him, a faint blush on her cheeks.

“Propose? You want to marry… me?”

All the men in the room voiced their approval, gathering around her. Sekido, stood, holding her in his arms with ease.

“You can think this over, but it’s made up in our minds. You are ours, but according to human customs we will give you time to think things over.”

She didn’t think he understood what thinking things over meant.

——————

Having a bunch of men crowd in her house was a lot less scary than (Name) thought it would be.

Aizetsu helped her clean, Urogi helped her cook, Karaku gathered firewood, and Sekido did repairs on she couldn’t.

Along with their helpful actions, the men had been behaving… strangely. She’d already figured out they weren’t human from their appearances and lack of human knowledge, but she thought that’s where their differences ended.

Not true.

Urogi had recently started bringing her… gifts. Sometimes, it was shiny things he’d found on his flights, and other times it was freshly killed animals and bags of gore. She tried not to think of where that came from.

Karaku had taken to purring at her to get her attention, which usually worked because she found it cute. This quickly turned into biting and growling when she didn’t respond quickly enough.

Sekido watched her. Constantly. At first this was reassuring. He’d follow her at night and make sure she was safe, and sometimes even carry her where she wanted to go. Recently he tried following her everywhere, this included to the bathroom and into her room when she was changing.

Aizetsu was the most tame, only wishing to be with her as much as possible. This only bothered her in the mornings when she couldn’t escape his iron grip to go pee.

She’d had about enough of this strange behavior, so she called all the boys to gather in her living room.

“Okay, why are you four acting so strange? Sorry to say but humans don’t like being followed, growled at, given bags with questionable contents, and being held for too long!”

She let out a huff and crossed her arms, her foot tapping away at the floor. The four exchanged looks, seeming confused.

“(Name), this is common demon courting etiquette”

She stopped, tilting her head. “Courting etiquette?”

“Yes, when a demon finds a suitable mate they court them with gifts, mark them, protect them, and spend time with them.”

(Name) nodded. “That makes sense. So how do I get y’all to stop your… courting?”

Sekido steps forward, offering her the ring. “All you have to do is accept our proposal.”

(Name) but her lip and weighed her options. On one hand, (Name) didn’t know if she was okay with the thought of marrying demons, but on the other hand… she’d grown to quite like the four over the past month. She didn’t know if she could go back to living alone, with no one to wake up beside her.

“I… I accept.”

The four let out a cheer, even Sekido seemed happier than usual. She was quickly surrounded, being kissed and nipped at from all angles.

“Now that you’ve accepted…”

Sekido reaches out a claw hand that traces down her side and lands at her hip. His eyes focus on her neck, and he leans down to inhale her scent.

“We can consummate this marriage.”

A/N: please leave a comment if you’d like a spicy~ part 2!

[mooishbeam]

『♡』 Treasures of the Fraud

♡ featuring: pantalone x f!reader

♡ summary: it's been forever since you've seen your friend, and as the hero of liyue, a new interruption has arisen. you pursue it, only to find memories awaiting you. wc: 9.1k+ (D:)

♡ cw/tw: long lonnggg fic, obsession, mentions of murder, mention of suicide, mentions of blood, manipulation, toxic pantalone, mean pantalone, possessive, spanking, degradation, mild praise, fingering, thigh riding, missionary, overstim, begging, edging, comeshot, pet names (darling, slut)

notes: helloooo!! ive been slow to get stuff out college is kicking my ass rn so sorry. not proofread so i apologize for any mistakes. I can't wait to have more time :) art by yion_yi on ig! <3 comments and reblogs are appreciated!

12 years ago 

“Come get me!” 

The boy with inky curls spiraling down his back dips through trees, ducking under low hanging branches embellished with vibrant autumn foliage. Messy blends of pink and purple melt across the slowly bleeding sun carried into the night. His silhouette resembles that of a malevolent spirit peeking behind the boughs, leaping over tangled twigs and shallow ditches. His excited screeches signal you to chase after the leading direction. You’re both screaming and laughing down the undoubtedly dangerous shortcuts. If your mother knew about the adventurous risks you were taking at 13, you’d never leave the house again. Tag is a troubling game—despite the thousands of times you’ve played with him, you regularly end up being “it”. You don’t care about losing, though; having someone to call a friend is enough.  

You turn into a clearing with columns of trees overseeing your small presence, hundreds of them. The colder night is rising, not a celestial body to shield.  In this deep blue void, the leaves seem to be aggrieved at your interruption of some secret meeting, angry and smiling faces crumpling in the whispering wind. You spin around frantically, looking for signs or laughter, but neither reveal themself. It’s quiet besides the downy linger of grass. Your shoulders are snatched back and shaken to a rattling shock. You scream, and he laughs. 

“Rahhh! Did I get you?” he jests. Your eyebrows narrow, and you push him lightly to a stumble. 

“You scared me!” 

“Hah, that’s the point. C’mon, it’s late. Let’s go.” He's scared too, swiftly grabbing your hand as you both brave the darkness back to the village. 

“We should’ve been home a while ago” you say quietly. You feel the chill in your bones and press yourself closer to him. 

“Yea.” He holds your hand tighter at the sound of a small rock bouncing down a steep hill. 

“I had fun today. Let’s do this again tomorrow.” 

“I have something to tell you.” 

“Okay.” 

“I’m moving in the morning” he states. It was nonchalant, but your stomach turns a churning sickness. One you can’t understand yet, it makes you uneasy. 

“Oh. Okay, then.” It isn't okay, not in the slightest. But it had to be. Your best friend of 8 years looks at you, aiming to register the gravity of the situation. You both say nothing, but tears start to brim in your eyes in the silence. You wipe them with your arm. 

“Will you miss me?” he asks. 

“A lot.” 

“I’ll miss you too. Lots and lots.” He sways your interlocking hands. You pass by vacant homes tattered and aged by abandonment, overgrown with invading ivy. Homeless reside, caring each other to warmth from the freezing draft. You were lucky to have a home in this little forgotten sector of Liyue. It's a small, unfortunate room, with holes in the roof that drips when it rains and bags over the windows to keep the heat in. The stove never works, and you share a bed with your mother, but every birthday she makes sure to save just enough for a slice of cake with one candle. There isn’t more you could ask for. Everyone in the village suffered from poverty but they made it work, sharing crops and dairy to persevere until the next year. That’s how you met him, sitting on a rock as your mother collected rations. You perform two pebbles in your hands, mumbling sea shanties while imagining voyage on a grueling journey—he sat next to you. 

“Those aren’t dolls. They’re rocks.” 

“You’re a rock” you retorted.  

“No, I’m not.” 

“Do you want to be a rock?” 

“...That’d be kinda cool.” You gave him a pile of pebbles, and he joined the trip. 

You’re getting closer to the village, still processing who you’ll play with once he’s gone. You glance at him, he’s spaced out in a faraway stare. You crave the power to read minds. 

“Can we talk about something? I’m getting sad” you sniffle. 

“What should be talk about?” 

“What are you going to do after you move?” 

“I’m gonna be super rich” he assures, looking up at the starless sky as if a meteor would shoot across and grant his wish. “What about you?” 

“I’m going to save the world” you proclaim.  

“Cool. I hope you do.” 

“Me too.” 

You arrive at your makeshift door drawn together with scraps of wood and twisted rope for hinges. A dim candle glimmers inside, most likely your vexed mother waiting for your tardily return. He makes space for your entry, and you undo your hands for the last time. Before you go, he snatches your wrist. His eyes are foggy, cheeks an anxious tinge of pink. He isn’t sure what he’s feeling, but the strings in his heart are tense. His mouth shapes to say something, but nothing returns. 

“Yeah?” 

“...I... I’ll really miss you a lot” he whispers with a lump in his throat.  

“Then don’t forget me, okay?” 

“I won’t.” 

“You promise?” you say and raise your pinky towards him. He curls around it. “I promise.” 

“Good. By the way, you’re it now.” 

“I’ll get you back when I see you again!” he chuckles. You bid your goodbyes, unaware that it would mark the unforeseen conclusion. 

Leaves crunch under your feet as you make your leisurely traverse to Liyue Harbor. It’s just before sunrise and you finished helping the elderly in Qingce Village carry copious amounts of heavy produce to their homes. The thankful candies from seniors' jingle in your pocket as you stretch your weary arms. Your mom offered to cook, but you're determined to locate the best commissions Katheryne had before afternoon. “Maybe I’ll pick up some rice buns” you think out loud at the rumble of your growing appetite. You still had a long way to go before you got to the harbor. 

This was your new normal. After your thundering battle with Ningguang and Keqing against Osial, you became an example of Liyue’s triumph. You also became more aware of Fatui tactics, wiping out their swarms with the raging fury of your pneuma and swinging vision. Days of grueling bloodshed resulted in your victory, cementing you as the lionheart of Liyue. Beat up and bruised, the only request you made after your fight was a hot meal and a place for your mom to retire. They delivered both, and you used your recent hero status to provide help to the villagers where needed, be it casual favors or ruthless assault on Fatui agents. You were neither rich nor poor, and lived off the land and kindness of the Liyue Qixing. They often suggested you focus on less mundane tasks, but to you, the most vulnerable age groups warranted priority. There was something about the lighthearted innocent squeals of children and mellow grandparents rocking in their wooden chairs that made you protective to an almost volatile extent. 

Bustling interactions of trade and commerce carry through the wind as you enter the harbor—a sound that’s brought you peace for years. The smell of food vendors has you drooling instantly. As you devour the complimentary rice bun, you feel the yank of a little hand on your skirt. You look down and a boy with brown hair searches for familiarity in your face. You recognize him, babysitting him numerous times. You kneel and pat his head, but he doesn’t react or move.  

“Hey, what’s up? Where are your parents?” you question, briefly scanning your immediate area for his family. He’s hesitant to speak, as if he can’t find the panicked words, and rushes into your arms. You hug him instinctively and let him sniffle into your shoulder. You pick him up in your grasp and raise his head with your other hand so that he’ll hopefully be open to your compassion.  

“Can you tell me what’s wrong?” The boy wipes his chubby tomato-red face. “Grandma is on the floor, what do I do?” You quell your rising nerves to suppress his alarm and speak calmly.  

“Where is she?” 

Speed walking towards the destination, the commotion of a small crowd surrounds a kneeling woman in the distance. She’s on her sun-spotted hands and knees, wailing for some bygone Archon. “Grandma!” he yells and jumps out of your arms. You run after him, relieved that the worst case scenario hadn’t occurred. You push through the group and get eye level with her, forehead pressed to the ground spouting religious scripture. 

“Are you okay? Do you need medical assistance?” Wise sunken eyes wrinkled with age and torn by tragedy stick to your heart. Her feeble hands encapsulate yours, and tears stream down her cheeks. “They took my baby!” she rasps, rocking back and forth. “Who did?” you ask, and she weeps harder. “They took her memory...my baby, my daughter!” You support her weight and lift her hunched figure off the pavement. “What did they look like, ma’am?” 

“A black hood...red mask” she recalls shakily. Instantly miscellaneous chatter ensues. They whisper nervously in each other's ears, he who shall not be named steals their voices. “Fatui probably got ‘er” you hear the mumble of one. Fatui. Your blood boils at the word, and you direct your view to the shrinking man with hands in his pockets. “‘He’ got all of us” he scoffs. “Did they hurt you guys, too?” you ask, and they stare. They’re pained but accepting.  

“500,000 mora.”  

“194,000 for me.” 

They list off their debt one by one, and you’re horrified at the accumulating number. They seem to endure, however; no longer phased by the incurable tally haunting their lives. “H-how are you paying any of this?” 

“We can’t. It adds up. Interest, late payments, it always does. So, we give everything, and ‘he’ takes everything, until we have nothing left. We die poor without a possession to our name” a woman sighs. As a child, you heard of the loan sharks that purposely fed false promises to the poor, and once they were reeled in, charged insurmountable payments to blackmail—it was the origin story of most people in your birthplace. Your soul aches for them, but is there anything you can do? 

“...I’ll help you, all of you. I’m sure I can-” 

Ningguang arrives. She's a nurturing figure to you, the kind that asks if you’ve been eating well and politely scolds you.  “What happened?” You lead the tired elder to the Jade Chamber, and she tells her story through choked sobs. You didn’t expect Keqing to already be there, arms folded and turned away from the situation. Ningguang can barely glance at the woman. 

“They stormed my home and took my jewelry and belongings. They took the pendant my daughter gave me; it had her face in it. Archons give me strength, my baby! I can’t afford it; I have nothing!” she quakes. You rub her back and Ningguang nods, listening—you can’t help but notice the anxiety blooming on her abstracted face. They take her through the process and once she leaves, Ningguang and Keqing look at each other with a silent understanding. The room is eerily quiet, and Ningguang paces back and forth in front of the intel wall contemplating an uncertain danger. You fumble with your thumbs. 

“What are we going to do about this?” you wonder. Keqing clears her throat loudly, attracting the attention of Ningguang. She looks at you, and sighs deeply. “We already know about this issue.” 

Your ears perk up. “Great, so how can I help?” 

“By doing nothing, (Y/N)” Keqing says. 

“...What?” 

“I have eyes everywhere; I’ve known for a long time. The Fatui are not people to be taken lightly, especially the harbingers. A few of their skirmishers were caught trading exotic goods and taxing medicine at high prices, on top of extorting the impoverished regions.” Ningguang points to one of the many Fatui exclusive headquarters on the wall. “Pantalone is the richest man in Teyvat, he has more political influence than anyone can imagine, and they answer to him. We can’t risk getting involved with this. They’ve brought this upon themselves, and unfortunately, they must deal with the consequences.” 

You can’t accept this response. How can they just desert them? It doesn’t comprehend in your naïvity—you scold yourself for not spotting the signs sooner, furrowing your brows and looking at them with distaste. “I expected this. You shouldn’t have said anything” Keqing chides. “...Why didn’t you tell me? I could’ve helped before-” 

“You’re the last person I wanted to know about this” Ningguang interrupts. Your anger feels misplaced, and you bite your lip in restraint. She sits next to you and offers fleeting comfort with a graceful hand on yours. “You’re quite the reactionary type. In due time, this will be sorted. But right now, I need you to calm down, and trust me.” It sounds desperate, you know you shouldn’t go looking for answers, but a snagging thread pulls at the back of your consciousness, all too convincing. You bounce your leg. “You should want revenge just as much as me. Where we came from, where they end up, it isn’t fair.”  

“You know I do, more than anything. But we must handle this with care, before too many people get hurt. I’m doing this for the betterment of Liyue as a whole. It’s not easy to make these decisions.” 

“We can’t just go around serving justice, there’s laws we have to act with” Keqing adds. You don’t reply and stand up abruptly to leave. The worried Tianquan grabs your wrist one last time. “Promise me you won’t make a mistake, (Y/N). I’m trying to protect you” she pleads. 

“I promise. Thank you.” You flash a half genuine smile, already planning to rebel against her wishes. 

Who exactly is ‘he’—Pantalone. You don’t even know where to start looking. Too many headquarters, infinite possibilities. The best way you have to find him is through Fatui agents.  

You start taking up odd jobs late in the evening, scouring for the possibility that a fatui agent might fall into your hands. Though you considered playing the part of an impoverished villager taking out a loan at Northland Bank, it didn’t guarantee that you’d meet Pantalone in the flesh—it’s more likely that would raise unnecessary suspicion in the process. It’s awkward at first, seeing the hero of Liyue fish on the dock for petty change throughout the night. As you do, the malicious fire in your eyes burns bright at the occasional voice in chill silence. Your vision glows as you toss the hunting knife between your nimble digits. Listening closely to conversations, hoping that one might be unguarded enough to slip up, but nothing of the sort appears—not even the boldness of Fatui skirmishers enables them to divulge secrets under the baleful existence of Celestia.  

The moon illuminates sweetly on the tranquil waters lulling you to drowse. You hadn’t heard much since the start of your escapade. A fishing pole is weak in your resistless hold, and you’ve evidently given up on the idea of portraying the hardworking fisherman tonight. You vowed to help the people of Liyue, but justice was seemingly unfeasible. Maybe a direct approach? Should I ambush their headquarters? More so a suicide mission, you’d have no luck achieving that. Just as you’re about to leave, the crunch of withering grass straightens your posture. You make yourself hidden with a burst of energy and slouch behind the bushes as a Fatui pyro agent charges along the route. Through the glutted leaves obstructing your vision, you can just make out the heavy bag on his shoulder and jagged blade waiting restlessly on the other. His stride points towards Qingce Village. You hold your breath disguising yourself with the scenery and allow him to take a few feet between you before you begin following him. He’s rather shifty, those veiled eyes darting back and forth at the lightest noise. You’re careful to glide behind trees, moving with the heartbeat of the wind and taking advantage of the various melody's nature offers. You suck in a breath and duck behind a boulder a few inches too close, and his head snaps in your direction. The feeling of being watched besets him, but with no way to prove it and time running out, he secures his knife for the hypothetical ambush, and makes haste towards the target. Turning a tree, you watch as the pyro wielder knocks on the house of a small worn cottage. A short stocky man appears, shading half his body behind the door. 

“H-hello...” you hear faintly. The Fatui keeps his hand firm on the door, one boot propped under the hinge. He presents the flaming knife loosely as he towers over the man. “We’ve given you time.” You were sure now that he's working for Pantalone.  

“I don’t have it. P-please, if you could just give me some more-” He slams his fist against the wood, a resounding thump shakes the home. The man cowers. “Give me everything you have. The Regrator won’t wait any long-” 

A small rock flies past his mask, skidding on the ground until it comes to a stop. He glares in the direction of the tree you’re hiding behind. You have no plan, nothing but the distracting impulse to stop the assailant from attacking. “Stay here” he commands, and stalks towards you. His slow footsteps get increasingly louder, playful stomps toying with your obvious whereabouts. He twirls the razor-sharp knife, and as he sharply peeks around the corner, you’re nowhere to be found. “Here, kitty kitty” he taunts, spinning towards the lake, then the village grounds for footprints. He severs the air aimlessly in mirth, believing some amateur fighter came to challenge him. As he monitors the tracks under you, you drop down from the wiry branches. Legs wrap tight around his neck, and you catch hold of his hood trying to pull his mask off. He gags but he’s too quick, throwing off your steadiness as he slams your spine on the grass. He whips around to take a stab at your chest, but you roll away guarding the vital arteries. You kick him in the crotch, and he recoils giving you ample time to stand.  

You can’t feel the wet laceration dripping down your abdomen as you take a slash at his throat with your weapon, infused with elemental energy. He leans back and meets your strike. You trade blows, the strength of your smite bursting sparks of light above the scratches and bruises. Your wrist burns with the unmoving knives stumbling you. He begins to manifest blazing knives circling his figure, and you jump back from the singing cut melting the cloth. You wipe the dried blood from your mouth, and in the blink of an eye, he disappears. Suddenly, red auras similar to the pyro agent surround you. One by one, the clones charge at you, and you parry their overhead onslaught. Something is different about the last clone, your vision revealing a brighter outline than the others. When the next clone attacks, as you counter you pretend to fall for his trick. With your eyes on the other, he immediately passes through the black fog to deal the killing blow. You’re quicker this time and heave a heavy tear into his chest. Crimson splatters the grass, it shatters his element and rips open the robe. You tackle him on the dirt and wrestle until you kick his weapon away. Your knee digs into his back, and he can barely breathe with his arm locked behind him and knife rigid against his neck. He ttempts to swing at you, but you wrench his arm tighter and slice into his skin just enough to draw blood. 

“Fuck. Okay!” he wheezes. “Where is Pantalone?”  

“I don’t know what you’re- shit!” You’ve lost patience long ago and twist his arm to dislocate the shoulder. He lets out a blood curdling scream thrashing in pain—you tug hard and focus him. “Shut up and answer my question. Where is Pantalone?” you demand. He hisses in pain and coughs up phlegm mixing with reddening soil. “Kill me.” 

“Just tell me and I’ll let you go.” 

“I’m a dead man, either way.” he rasps and hangs his head waiting for the execution. You grit your teeth; a drop of guilt leaves a bad taste as you thwack the pressure point on his neck that forces him unconscious. You glance at the bag he left and limp over to rummage through the contents. Useless papers crumple under stolen items, but one note catches your eye. Presumably a to-do list, you read to the bottom. A list of homes, goods on standby exchanges—at the bottom of those, a rendezvous point: 

Report back- Yilong Bank, Liyue 

You rest in a plot of prickly bushes and leave in the morning after patching yourself up. You couldn’t stop now, not when you were this close to facing him. You soothe your body from the twigs prodding you all night, and check the wound suppressed by gauze. It’s a light scar now, apparent after bathing in the warm water on the outskirts of Qingce. You contemplated telling Ningguang about what occurred, but imagining the look on her face once she knew kept you moving. 

Tucking your vision where it can’t be viewed, you take a waverider to Yilong Port into the afternoon. You concoct a half-baked scheme, one that relies on every scenario being perfect to a tee. Unreliable, but probably your only chance. The plan amounts to scaling the building and breaking in through the office window, snatching everything owned by the villagers and breaking out before anyone notices. Easy in your capabilities, but you have no idea what the building looks like, nor do you know where the office is. The man driving wears all black, an outfit that stands out from the rest of the region. He stares at you blankly, and once you’re aware, you meet eyes. His smile is uncanny, stretching across his face with an abnormal friendliness. 

“Is this your first time at the port?” he asks, finger tapping the wheel. Be it sleep deprivation or ignorance; you don’t recognize red flags in his behavior.  You smile at the courteous face. “Yeah, the weather’s beautiful out here.” 

“Mhm, hot weather up here. On vacation?” 

“Nah, I have business here.” The minuscule edge of your vision catches in the light. He homes in on the passing twinkle. You wonder why his eyes widen momentarily, and his finger starts to tap methodically, as if memorizing a coded pattern. 

“Business...what kind?” 

“Oh...I have some items to trade.” You close off your answers feeling that you’ve said too much. He subsides with a stale expression. “If you’re looking to trade, you might find luck at Yilong Bank” he utters monotonously.  

“And where is that?” You feign disinterest, but victory is too loud on your tongue. 

“Up the mountain.” The waverider halts at the harbor, and he turns his head away from you unusually cold, akin to a mechanical bot shutting down. “Welcome to Yilong Port.” 

You make yourself invisible in the crowd and wait for nightfall. People still roam the port along with Fatui monitoring the front of the bank, which gives you leeway to blend in as you find passage around the back of the mountain. It’s a steep, dark incline jutted with irregular jagged stones. The imposing size of the climb tangles knots in your stomach, and you wipe the persistent sweat on your top. In one huge leap, you latch onto a craggy indent, and begin your ascension. 

Your legs feel like jelly with each contact of the unforgiving breeze. You sway alongside the spirit of anemo and swallow your anxiety before leaping to the next rock. Shoes plant into rock and nails excavate fresh cobble on the next jump. By the time you’ve realized, you’re already up most of the mountain. You tug yourself even with the land as a barreling gust of wind goads your glance to the ground, kilometers beneath you. Your breath stills, and for a second dizziness overtakes your nerves at the thought of slipping. I could die, one mistake and I’m dead. You focus, and spring to the next piece. Without warning, rock gives way into pebbles at the weight of your foot. You nearly plunge, but anchor onto the small bump out with one hand. You’re dangling off the edge, playing with death while you fortify your body. Hyperventilation makes your heartbeat thrum incessantly and stress palpitates tired muscles; If you didn't have your vision, you would’ve fainted to your demise. You bite the bullet, push your heels in and persevere through the hurdles. The next thing you clutch is malleable in your palm. You vault over the cliff, the smell of dew is overwhelming. The back of the bank—the end goal—is visible.  

One Fatui member remains in the front. You scale up the building effortlessly, nothing compared to the hell you just went through. Shifting window to window, your eyes land on the pitch-black darkness of the room at the top of the building. An ideal glow casts on the fraction of precious gold resting on a coffee table. This has to be it. You slink through the window soundlessly, and land on the balls of your feet. Analyzing the dish, you don’t discern the pendant. You can faintly identify some bookshelves near the dish, and tiptoe further inside. You creep around luxury sofas, and squint at the embellished glass case next to the door, containing all manner of jewelry and valuable possessions. You won; this was it. You scurry to it, moving with abrupt carelessness. One more step. 

Click 

The fireplace you didn’t heed is set aflame. It flickers sneering shadows on the opposite wall and brightens the case. You pause and hope. There’s a confining silence stirring in the room, like someone is with you. The case is visible now, and so is the key to opening it. 

You fell into a trap. 

“Looks like I have a little thief on my hands.”  

A bittersweet voice in the sable, reminiscent of rich dark chocolate, rolls off the room. He steps out obscurity behind his desk and your eyes adjust, revealing the tight black turtleneck compressing his willowy torso and gloves adorned with silver rings. You can’t see the upper part of his face, but the chains of his glasses hang in front of that duping smile. You expected the Fatui harbinger to be on the stronger side, physically intimidating. It’s not physical, but you feel a certain fear boiling in your body. He’s not terrifying, but you tremble. His presence makes your hair stand and sends waves of goosebumps up your arms. You can’t find the will to move your wobbly legs. His charmed laugh rings in your ears and causes you to hold your breath. He has no vision; you shouldn’t be afraid. You could take him on easily, why can’t you fight? 

“Hello, honored hero of Liyue” the headless man taunts. It makes it worse that he knows who you are. How long had he known you were coming? Was your plan doomed from the beginning? Your feet are stuck in molasses as your fight or flight shuts down at the man before you.  

“Now, tell me. What is the little thief doing, barging into my office to take the possessions I worked so hard for? Not very heroic of you, If I may say.” There’s power in his stature—you forget how to speak. He holds his palm out to you. Tangled between his fingers, is the ornate golden pendant you’d been searching for, a woman’s face in the frame. Your eyes widen, and the sweet familiar curve of his lips stretches in amusement. 

“Is this what you’re looking for?” The plod of low-heeled boots accompanies unveiled darkness, and you can observe his entirety. Amethyst eyes drunk with an orchid hue pool into your being. Lazy curls brush against his glasses and kiss his porcelain skin. He’s beautiful, a calm enticing rip current that sweeps you with immeasurable pressure before you can pull yourself out. He leans on the desk, observing the chain halfheartedly. If you weren’t careful, you’d mistake the look on his face for genuine kindness; you’d drown, just like he craved. Nonetheless, you can’t shake the emotion his smile grants. 

“Yes. That’s all I need, and I won’t bother you again” you whisper meekly, hoping that he’d let you go with the pendant in a spur of forgiveness. The jest in his eyes says something different. 

“Come get it.”  

Come get it. Your mind begins to piece the man into a stage of your life you’d forgotten. It can’t be him. Memory tells intrusive truth in short flashes. Inky curls spiraling in front of you as you chase. He was consistently miles ahead of you. It was irrelevant how far apart you were; he’d always find you. That big, curving smile for every match he won. Purple eyes glancing back at yours; the same ones that withheld tears when you said goodbye. 

“Come get me!” 

Tears stream down your eyes for the friend you thought you’d never see again. Childhood laughter bleeds into his current cat-like conniving snicker, and you gaze at his face. 

“I... remember you” you choke. He looks up without a smile, perceiving an unexpected thought, and meets your eyes. There’s a hint of affection in the warm smile beaming on his face. “My my, (Y/N). You have quite the memory.” 

You’re motionless, full of something that catches in your lungs. This isn’t the triumph you wanted, and now that you’re face to face you feel powerless. He must’ve known the entire time. Watching you fight and work alone, sending Fatui to roam in Liyue, all done to toy with you. Your lip quivers, swelling in your already deafening heartbeat.  

“How long...” you utter. He inquires with the tilt of his head. 

“How long have you been messing with me?” Your eyes adhere to the floor, pride that won’t permit you to shed misery for Pantalone. He drinks in your resistant frame, the kind he desires to break; perhaps this game of cat and mouse isn’t done, after all. 

“This hurts me too, (Y/N). I wouldn’t be doing this if you weren’t so…persistent.” Your confusion spills over in shaky, weak huffs. You can’t maintain your composure, and make yourself first to oppose the authoritative man on his own territory. 

“How could you do this to anyone? We grew up poor!” You shout with balling fists. 

“It’s inefficient to dwell on the past” he replies with gentle cadence and languid grace unrepresentative of his cruel tactics. You nearly regret raising your voice. 

“These people are at their wits end and you’re taking advantage of them” you chide. He slowly paces towards you. Pantalone looks down on you from height disparity, but the royal glower pities you, judges worth you can’t see. 

“Driven by emotions, are you that simple? You presumed that if you stormed in here, and professed a touching story, that I would suddenly see the error in my methods?” You’re not sure what you’re here for anymore or why you haven’t left yet. Subconscious urges can't determine if they should slap or hug the man inching towards you. “I simply enforce contracts and exchanges. No one can be swindled by a debt accreted on their own.” 

“No one asks to be poor either” you interject. Pantalone’s a foot away from you now, analyzing your reactions to his personal entertainment. He recalls the blurry past—the pranks you pulled together that ultimately failed from your loud hurried sneakiness tripping to alert the farmers, helping out for loose change so that you’d split a snack between each other that wasn’t big enough to share, gazing at the twinkling night imagining a distant future—you changed and stayed the same, but he keeps wanting more.  

“Weigh the odds. They either die impoverished or live by passage of loans. I merely provide a service. Does that make me so cruel?” You can’t find an answer. 

“You’ll always be my friend, but I need it back. It can’t be much to forgive someone’s debt” you plead.  

“You still consider me a friend?” 

“I think…you’re hurt. And you’re trying to heal. We all are. I know I’ve dealt with a lot as I’ve gotten older and I think you have, too. Power corrupts even the best people in this world, so maybe you’re not a bad person. But you’re doing bad things, and this isn’t the right way to get better.” 

Pantalone is quiet for a few long moments. His hands web his face, but you can clearly see the pearly fangs in his open-mouthed smirk. Then he laughs—dulcet and mocking, it lingers for too long as he throws his head back and relishes the obtuse notion. He gazes with insulting compassion and stalks towards you. 

“Incredibly…. gullible. Mora is the pathway to all endeavors. Devoid of gnosis or divine knowledge, wealth has rendered me impervious to control. Suffering and destitution only manifest if I will it. I am the guise of a false god, an emblem of achievement.” It’s borderline delusional the way he regards himself, arms moving in theatric grandeur, the star of his own opera. 

“Does that make you feel good? Stepping on the backs of the community that raised you, and abandoning them because they chose not to be influenced by greed?” Pantalone towers over you. His fingers brush light against your sensitive ears, trail to your clenched jaw, and finally cup your frustrated cheeks with the cradle of a long-lost lover. 

“It does, in fact. I’m not easily swayed by ridiculous optimism, that’s why I’m at the top. You’ve devoted your blood and tears to a region that will succumb to adversity in your absence. Is that not a pointless feat?” 

“So what? That doesn’t mean we just don’t help people. You have nothing without the Fatui, you’re a pawn just like the others” you retort. He brings his lips close to the shell of your ear, and his breath hot on the untouched skin drags a tingle up your spine. 

“And what do you know about the Fatui?” he whispers. 

“I know enough. You’re all disgusting.” He huffs out his nose. 

“Disgusting isn’t the right word. I’d say...opportunists.” Pantalone backs up, sliding his hand up your chin and tilting your attention to the intense glint. “But you’re clever, I’ll give you that. If only you were clever enough to know your place.” You'd forgotten you were acting out of line. You refocus your mindset to negotiation. 

“I’ll do anything you ask for the debt. Please, just give it back.” The word “anything” evokes a malicious yearning—so forthcoming without understanding the implications of “anything”, of eternity. He caresses your cheek. 

“Anything, hm? Even if I said to give up being a hero for good? Would you still call yourself a heroic traveler if you weren’t allowed to travel or adventure as you please?” he teases. Your mouth opens to refute, but you bite your bottom lip instead. Pantalone walks back to his desk and leans while dangling the golden chain. Now that he’s far, the invading space between you two shows how insignificant you are in this luxury palace. 

“Your resolve moves me. Consider this; make an exchange with me, and I’ll guarantee not only her debt, but the debt of all residents in Liyue forgiven” Your face instantly lights up, ready to accept it without thinking. 

“What is it?” you ask. 

“In exchange for regional loan forgiveness, I want you.” 

“...What?” 

“I want everything you have. It’s the fairest exchange I can make. Your obedience, your loyalty, and your body.”  

The choice turns in your frontal lobe. You can’t fathom giving yourself to a man, let alone a Fatui harbinger. It’s unbecoming of a hero to lie with the enemy. 

“Absolutely not” you assure. 

“Alright. Then allow their village to be reduced to nothing.” No, wait. “You may leave. However, if you do, you’ll cause great misfortune to that woman and her struggling family” You play into his covet so smoothly as you stand in the center of the room, reluctant to leave.  

“I’m not a complete monster, so I’ll give you 5 seconds to make a choice.” He sways the pendant in his hand like the transient time of an hourglass. 5 seconds, all you have to sign your life away. 

“4.”  

What if no one ever sees you again? What’s the point of sacrificing your happiness and freedom, are the people of Liyue truly worth it? 

“3.” 

You could threaten him, take him hostage so that a harbinger might bow to your demands. That, or they kill you, and the village suffers anyway. 

“2.” 

You think of your graying mom, the sweet boy with his chubby red face who cries over the smallest things, the grateful elders that give you candy after every good deed, Ningguang and Keqing stressing over the next financial impact. 

“1.” 

“I’ll do it.”  

Pantalone swings the chain into his palm, an undefeated smug overbearing as he sets it on the desk. There was never a point in resisting; he always got what he wanted, no matter how long it took to achieve it. He waited months—no, years—to get you in this exact moment. There’s a daunting beguiling charm in the way he closes the gap between you two. You glare at him; a temper common people would dread shooting. He assesses the pending punishment and lowers himself eye-level. He grins, but the smile doesn’t reach his eyes. 

“I can see the defiance in your eyes. Do you want to talk back? Go ahead, challenge me.” You don’t test this scenario and turn your head. “Don’t patronize me. Get it over with, ‘Pantalone’.” 

He quirks an eyebrow, and pliable flesh strains your teeth as your face is gripped rough by satiny leather. You’re twisted sharply to the calm expression—it humbles you. 

“That’s not how you address your superior. What should you call me?” You don’t answer promptly to his liking, and he tightens his grip. “Answer me properly, darling.” 

“...Sir.” Pantalone plants a sickly sugary kiss on your forehead, the kind that makes you forget how petrifying he can be, and lets you go.  

“Good.” He walks back to the desk and sits in the onyx chair embellished with silver jewels fit for a king. His chin rests on bridging hands. “Strip.” 

You don’t move, your heart hammers in your chest at the request and you stir uncomfortably. You have no experience with sexual gratification, let alone exposing yourself to an old friend.  

“(Y/N). Don’t make me say it again.” Keen agitation in his voice serves as a final warning. He eats you with his eyes, homed in on your hands clumsily snaking the top over your head. A glimpse of the scar you received during your fight with the Fatui captures him. He takes a mental entry, for an explanation that might justify why the agent suddenly goes missing. You were generally too busy to look in the mirror or analyze your assets, and pleasure was a removed afterthought—so the hungry fervor warming your skin and permeating the room clamped your thighs shut. You’re visibly flustered and nervous fumbling with the clasps on your bra while stabilizing your anxiety, and he delights in every second of the accidental strip tease. It feels like fresh meat introduced to a savage animal, and the instant your bra omes off, a new vulnerability coils in your gut. You move to your bottoms; the sheen of sweat polishes your plush thighs to wiggle out of them. You’re left in nothing but tantalizing panties hugging you in the right places. His eyes undress and redress you, tracing up and down the perk of your nipples, tempting fullness of your thighs, each unseen curve and perfect imperfect mark on your glistening body. He lets out a deep breath to stop himself from jumping over the table and taking you right there. 

“The underwear. Take it off” he says, an undertone of lust. You shimmy the fabric off and fully expose yourself. You impulsively cover your intimate parts and avert your eyes, but you can still feel Pantalone on you, ravaging you. He doesn’t bother telling you to put your arms at your sides, your bashfulness combined with an attempt at stoicism is comical. 

“Ah, the little thief is trying to act tough. That's cute” Pantalone teases and leans back in the chair. Manspreading, he pats his thigh. “Crawl.”  

He’s hellbent on shaming the defiance out of you. It’s a vile command, but you begrudgingly drop to your hands and knees. You drag your chaffed knees on wood, balancing like a newborn fawn adjusting to its legs. It’s humiliating and downright degrading; the cold floor fails at cooling your burning fever. You’re on the verge of tears, but Pantalone can’t help but smile. You get around the desk and look up at him, waiting for the next horrible thing he’ll have you do. “Unfortunately, the stunt you pulled impeded my paperwork. Be a good thing and sit on my lap until I’m done.” A “thing”—that’s all you were now, a shiny trophy meant to be ogled at but never taken seriously, used and thrown away. You stand off your scraped raw knees and straddle his thigh, hands balancing the leg so you don’t fall. 

And Pantalone starts to work. Working as if you’re not there, filling in the spaces on his documents. For some reason, it’s more demeaning this way, you truly are just a prize. One hand dances beautiful penmanship in masterful motions on embossed paper, the other fondles and explores your being. The gloves brush down your delicate spine, nonsensical shapes drawn on your lower back that make you shiver and pool heat in places you’ve never thought of. You’ve never been touched like this, it’s needles light on your skin. They move to your stomach, pleasant circles above the pelvis that threaten to go lower. He’s careful to trail his hand up your cleavage and behind your neck, neglect your hardening nipples and repeat the process over and over. He’s painstakingly slow, savoring the dazed arch of your back, massaging your inner thighs and dragging the sleek material over your rear.

Middle and index sweep across your lips, pulling your bottom lip to reveal teeth, and prods your mouth. Pantalone’s fingers are invasive, they exploit your gums and twirl around the squishy tongue molding to his appetite. He plays with the pink mass, and it fills you like a kiss. He’s everywhere and he hasn’t looked at you once. You hate it, the kind elegance and refinement of his technique that makes every calculated word and action reek of opulence. Yet, arousal pools on the surface, sticking to your labia and clouding your drowsy mind. It’s an extreme ache that doesn’t go away from cold showers or shrugging off like you usually would. You can’t remember what you did today, yesterday, or the day before that. The sensation of him consumes you and persists in spots he left. He smells of expensive cologne, hints of heady wood and sage. You’re lucky his fingers are in your mouth, or piteous moans would spill out of you. Flat on his thigh, the subtle jolts of his leg rub against your hypersensitive clit and set your nerves on fire. Throbbing swells in your core, and you struggle to stay stiff as your hips stutter.  

Pantalone knows exactly what he’s doing. Your labored pants sound like saintly melody while you writhe on his lap. The fabric goads your pulsing pussy, and you hang your head in embarrassment of the juices soaking your thighs and his. He’s surprised you have strength left to withstand the itch. You do your best to hover above it, trailing thick strings of slick. “There’s no need to pretend you don’t like this. Just give yourself to me” he whispers. And it’s so enticing, an invitation that might let you come if you ask. However, remnants of pride cling to your melting resolve, you can’t give in yet. He takes the fingers out and presses on your nipple, flicking the bud. You can’t hold the mewl, and he snickers.  

“So indignant for the hero of Liyue, to be on a harbingers lap, reduced to a pretty pet.” Your ears tune out the insults. The damp gloves pull and pinch your puffy nipples, then knead to soothe the pain. He does the same to the other, switching between both as he feels you squirm.  

He works on the last few pages. Piles upon piles of reports and records—they detail the deaths, or “suicides”, of clients who’d disappeared mysteriously after extended absence of payments for millions of mora, people who dared go against the Regrator. Unruly, uncooperative clients that take advantage of fair exchange, and pay the price for it. 

Your arms get tired, and you settle on him again. Pantalone starts to softly bounce his leg, enough for you to notice the friction on your clit. It’s too much, you can’t take it anymore, and start to rut your hips on his thigh. You look messy, smearing your essence on those overpriced slacks and biting back your moans. Pleasure flows in your veins, and you give up. His cock throbs nonstop, print stealing space in his pants. “Did you believe I wouldn’t catch you? You’re not sneaky enough. You’re not good enough," he taunts from the corner of his eye. You hump his leg like a desperate bunny, chasing the addictive high.  

“Nasty slut, fucking your hips on a man you barely remember.” He moves his hands to your clit and replaces the slacks with slippery leather. You grind on it harder and hold your moans. More, more, more. He coats it in the mess and finally diverts his attention to you. He teases your entrance gliding vertically on your vulva before pushing one finger in. It hurts at first, but your walls hug him eagerly, pulling it deeper. He coaxes it to take another and starts scissoring your gushy walls.  

“I’ll devour you. I’ll inscribe my name upon every surface of your physique until it adorns your lips, and I’m the only thing that remains.” Pantalone starts pumping rhythmically, tormenting, poking everywhere but your g-spot. Gloss drips down his knuckles and glazes his rings. 

“S-sir please, s’too much” you whimper, mustering up an ineffective stable voice. “Hmm? Can you hear the lewd sounds you’re making?” Loud squelches sing from him fucking your insides. Each time you try to speak, he elicits another moan. 

“M-my sto-mach hurtss” you whine. He holds your waist in place with the other hand and continues the assault. “I know, it hurts? Would you like me to alleviate the pain?” he coos. You nod fast. 

“Hold it in. You ask for permission every time you’re close, do you understand?” You don’t reply and try to angle your body to get more contact. You make the mistake of guiding yourself to your clit and earn a harsh stinging slap on your hand. “Don’t touch what’s mine” he orders. You’re frustrated and he’s doing it on purpose, it’s entirely too hot where pleasure and pain blur. “N-not yours” you stammer, and he stops. He pulls out your warmth and you whine from loss of pressure. Looking at him, there's no smile, and the irritation on his face makes your heart drop. You're really in for it. 

Without delay, your stomach flies over one of the chair arms, and you hold onto it for dear life. It presses firm on your ribs, and he slants your ass to the air. “You have courage, speaking back to me” he says. He pulls his gloves off and hurls them. They’re lovely, the silken soft hands of a man who hadn't lifted a finger through combat a day in his life. They sink into your sex, and you moan out for him. The other winds back, and you feel the palm hit brutally on your unsuspecting backside. Crack. It echoes in the room, and you almost fly forward. 

“Disrespectful.” Crack. He keeps pumping through it, and tears collect in your lashes. 

“Disobedient.” Crack. There’s blood rushing to your head, and violent smacks make your pussy flutter and ass ripple; his control won’t give you adequate touch.  

“Little.” Crack. Every time he feels you getting there, he pauses. A masochistic pleasure whirls innermost. 

“Brat.” Crack. Both cheeks are a sore fiery color and beginning to welt, but he resumes. You’re drenching his palm, sobbing from prolonged edging and Pantalone laughs. “Pfft, you’re crying? Too embarrassed to beg? Perhaps I’ll give you what you want, if you grovel hard enough, darling.” An incoherent orchestra of please’s mesh with broken moans. “Sir m’sorry. Wan’ it so bad, p-please!” you mumble. There’s no dignity on your lips, no residue of the hero you once were. Drunken ardor floods your short-circuiting brain. 

“Oh, what do you say? You want it? Is that it? I'll let you have it... but only if you say it loud and clear for me” he croons. He winds his fingers in a come-hither gesture that licks your core. 

“Please...I won’t misbehave again!” He spreads your ass apart and watches your hole pucker from lining the brink. 

“I’m not sure I want to give it to you now. It's a lot more enjoyable watching you squirm and beg.” 

“’M yours, sir. Please give it to me. I’ll be s’good, promise!” you mewl. You’re so pathetic, it’s endearing. He simpers and maneuvers impossibly fast while gyrating your clit. “How humiliating. You’ve satisfied me.” Your eyes roll back, and you dissolve in pure euphoria. There’s black dots in your vision, and it doesn’t stop as he starts torturing your overstimulated clit with the pad of his thumb. Your tears only encourage him. You jerk and spasm, but he moves where you move with insistent skill. “T-too m-” 

“Aww, what’s wrong? Isn’t this what you wanted, where are your manners?” Pantalone pulls out and delivers staggering mean swats to your pussy, and you recoil. “Say thank you” he demands. 

“Thank you, sir.” He hums and picks you up in his arms. Before color can return to your numb cells, he lays you on the desk. You watch him pull his shirt up to his pecs with haste and uncover the lean skinny midsection. Unzipping his pants, he unsheathes his leaking thumping erection. Even his dick is pretty, it curves upwards and shades a starving dusty pink past the thin strip of tissue on the underside of his bulbous tip. Composure thinning, a bead of pre come runs down his tip at the sight of provocation sluicing your ass and thighs. His glasses plunge down his neck, body blushed wildly, but he doesn’t care. Pantalone slides between your labia and groans at the sound. Engulfing the tip in awaiting velvet warmth, “You’re so good for me, hm?” he sighs. You embrace him, delicious searing stretch of your walls forming to his cock. Your orgasm builds just from your body accommodating the size. He places your hands on your calves and holds them at your sides. He slips out, and in one swoop, drives into you. His heavy balls smack against your ass as he thrusts frenetically in the gooey grip he’d been waiting for, stalking and spying for. He digs crescent shapes in your waist and uses you to his abundance. The desk base creaks and grinds on abrading wood and obituaries float to the floor with overturned calligraphy ink from the unrelenting momentum. You throw your head back and indulge the carnal lust washing over you both. 

“You’ll never see anyone ever again. Fuck- you’re mine, and mine alone. You’re nothing but a come dump, your purpose is to please me, hah, until I say it’s over” his voice is unexpectedly deprived and weighty with vulgar whimpers. Pantalone eyes your neck and encapsulates it in his slender hand. He clenches tight and releases in sporadic bursts that have you seizing around him. For a split second there’s the image of you—exorbitant pearled collar wrapped around your throat, with “Pantalone” inscribed in bedazzled letters—and he loses it. He swipes your clit rapidly and feeds you deep strokes; you’ll definitely die. You speak, but it’s unintelligible rambling. 

“Use your words” he lilts, squeezing your airflow taut. “C-can I, sir, please?” 

“You’ll do it on my command.” Pantalone thrusts frenetically, you can feel him bucking, twitching and quickly approaching his climax. His hips sputter, chanting some mixture of your name and curses under his breath. “You’re so obedient for me, aren’t you? F-fuck, darling, go ahead. Come on my cock.” You permit yourself to surrender, white noise streams in and time slows as you come down his shaft. A creamy ring forms at the hilt of his slaps. You recite “thank you” through wails with the semblance of a follower at the altar of their savior. Then he grabs your face and goes in for a kiss.  

It’s sloppy and misses half your lip, but its doughy attachment mellows your blissed out head. His lips taste like the bitter excess of green tea, and you crane for a better sample. His tongue does things his fingers couldn’t, and swirls around yours in a passionate bruising waltz. Pantalone breaks away, a string of saliva when he frees himself. “Mm, coming. Gonna claim you everywhere” he whimpers. Sweat on his lustered abdomen, he pumps his tender cock before spurting thick hot ropes across your tits and stomach. He paints your vulva with the rest and plunges the tip in your entry so as to not waste the endless globs of white. He tremors inside you until soft, and when some dribbles out he fingers it back inside.  

Afterwards, Pantalone opens one of the drawers on the desk and takes out an embossed loan dismissal form. You can’t read the finer details through hazy eyesight. “It’s already signed, so don’t worry. I won’t deceive you.” He caresses your face in his normal sing-song attitude. “We depart in the morning.” You don’t have a clue where you’re going or how you’ll get there as you drift unconscious. Once you’re asleep, Pantalone shuffles in a different locked drawer. He twiddles the stunning purple geode in his hand, a crystal lined mineral you gave to him years prior. He looks at you, then the druse, and cackles. 

“Mine. Always.” 

[hornyfor-redacted-onmain]

Secret Secret Chapter 5

OT8 Straykids x reader, ABO AU

Masterlist | Next Part

Sooyoung realized it immediately when she walked in.

“Oh wow, someone’s in preheat.”

You sighed. “Is it that noticeable?”

She dropped her bag on the counter. “Honey, it smells like you took a shower in unicorn pee.”

“Unicorn pee?”

“I can’t imagine anything else smelling so good and yet so overwhelmingly bad,” she said with a shrug, turning to rummage around the cabinets. “You going to take the day off when your heat hits?”

“Oh, um.” You shrunk down in your seat on the couch. “Not exactly.”

The alpha paused, turning around slowly with narrowed eyes. “What did you do?”

“Look, hear me out,” You started. “It’s only Monday. My heat will probably hit on Thursday, and then I’ll have to call in sick for two days.”

“Wow, two days off work. How tragic,” Sooyoung said sarcastically, still standing with her arms crossed.

You gave her a look. “However, if I can hold off my heat until after work on Friday, I can ride my heat out during the weekend. No need to call in sick at all!”

“Right. And go back to work immediately after your heat?”

You could tell that her alpha wasn’t pleased with the idea of you working after such a harsh experience. Most omegas took at least a few days off after their heat to recover, but it wasn’t impossible for you to function the day after.

Betas wouldn’t need a day off to recover.

“It’s only my second week at this job, Youngie. I can’t afford to be using up my sick days so soon!”

“And yet I know for a fact that you’ll use some other excuse the next time your heat comes up.” She paused, narrowing her eyes as she realized something. “Wait. The only way you’ll manage to delay your heat is with suppressants.”

You looked down.

“You know how badly those affect you!”

“It’s only two days!”

Sooyoung threw her hands up into the air. “Fine, you know what? Do what you like. You’re a grown adult capable of making her own stupid decisions. But don’t come crying to me at the end of the day when those symptoms wreak havoc on you.”

You watched through silent fury as your roommate practically stomped to her room. The door slammed loudly behind her, and you were tempted to comment on it just to get the last word in, but you held your tongue.

In reality, you knew she had every right to be worried. Heat suppressants were normally only used for emergencies, not because they had any negative consequences on the body itself, but because the symptoms were so horrible that no normal person would willingly subject themselves to them unless they absolutely had to.

Headaches, fatigue, heightened senses, heat flashes, brain fog, stomach cramps. Heat suppressants forced the production of pre-heat hormones and suppressed the actual heat from happening for a short period of time, but, as an unfortunate side effect, it enhanced all the pre-heat symptoms and dialed them up to a 100.

Compared to the milder heat symptoms (slick production and high libido) it seemed odd to want to endure two days of all that. But your heat would make your scent so strong, to the point that your scent blockers wouldn’t work anymore, so it was a necessity.

At least that’s what you told yourself.

-0-0-

You weren’t sure what to expect from the Alpha you were bringing home. The entire ride in his car, besides giving out directions, nothing was said between the both of you. Even now, awkwardly standing in your kitchen, he looked like he was losing the motivation he originally had, and you wondered if you would end up being left high and dry.

“Do you want some water? Or something else to drink?” You leaned against your counter, hoping that a simple conversation would help him relax.

He shook his head. “I’m fine.”

“You sure? You look like your seconds away from bolting.”

“Ah, am I that obvious?” He let out a chuckle, reaching up to scratch at his forehead. “I’ve never really done something like this before.”

You tilted your head in interest. “Oh? What makes me so special?”

He didn’t say anything at first, instead choosing to move forward until he was leaning against the other side of the counter. The two of you were close enough that you could reach out and touch him if you wanted, but part of you was curious to see if he would make the first move.

“I don’t know,” he answered truthfully.

“You sure it’s not my charmingly good looks?” You said it jokingly, but he rested his chin against his hand.

“No, it’s something else. Something … special.”

You felt your omega perk up at the compliment, and you could smell your scent begin to grow. You pulled back from the counter to stand up straight. If things were going to progress any further, you needed to take this back to your room. You didn’t want Sooyoung to have to deal with the scent of arousal lingering in the communal areas.

“Well then, mr. charmer. How about we take this to my room?” You held out your hand, and he took it.

His hand was warm and heavy in yours.

You opened up your bedroom door, and you found yourself staring at his ass as he passed. “What’s your real name anyways?”

“My real name?” The alpha looked around your room with a thoughtful look. “It’s not that important.”

You raised your eyebrows” What do I call you, then?”

“Hmmm.” You couldn’t see his face through his mask, but the way he gazed at you made you feel like you were being stripped apart to your bare bones, and you could imagine the curl of his lips. “You can call me Alpha.”

His scent began to come out stronger, like a breeze on a hot day, and you found yourself hoping it would linger long after he was gone.

You shut the door.

“Well, alpha,” You said, deliberately drawing the word out. “You going to wear that mask all night?”

He seemed to grow almost … shy. “I- actually, I think I’d prefer to keep it on.”

“It’s okay,” You assure him, not wanting him to feel insecure.

“I mean, I do want to kiss you,” He started, taking a step towards you. You could see the moment he hesitated to reach out to you, his hand dropping down to his side in a clenched fist. “If you want, that is.”

You let out a bark of laughter. “Oh sweetie, I’m pretty sure inviting you over was an invitation for much more than just a little kiss.”

This time he didn’t stop himself from reaching out to you, his hands lingering on your waist as his eyes flittered across your space. You reached up for his mask, the idea of kissing him the only thing you can think of. You wanted to know what he looked like. How soft his lips would be.

He grabbed your wrist. “I can’t let you see my face.” He sounded almost regretful.

“It’s okay,” You reassured him once more. “I can close my eyes.”

And you did. You stood there, eyes closed, and let your smile grow as he dropped your wrist, the sound of fabric shifting in front of you. For a second, he left you waiting. You didn’t open your eyes, but you did reach out to place your hand against his bare jaw.

His lips were as soft as you hoped they would be.

Your hands roamed down from his face to his neck, using your grip on his to pull him closer. It felt like he was inhaling your very essence, His scent covered you, and you moaned against his lips as his body pressed against yours. He smiled, lips still pressed against yours.

You pulled away from the kiss, but immediately pushed your face into his shoulder to keep yourself from the temptation of opening your eyes.

“You good?”

“I think it’s going to be a little hard to remember to keep my eyes close if you keep kissing me dumb like that.”

His chest rumbled as he laughed, grip on your waist tightening. “Sorry?”

“Hmmm, it’s not a complaint. Just an observation.” You pulled out of his hold completely, waving your hand in his direction. “Turn around for a second.”

You didn’t wait to see if he did as you asked, moving towards your closet with a goal in mind. It took a little bit of rummaging in the farthest corner of one of your drawers, but eventually you managed to find what you were looking for. You pulled it out with a shout of triumph.

“Is that a blindfold?”

“Yup!” You slapped a hand over your eyes and turned around, wiggling the cloth out in front of you. “Genius, right?”

“You just happened to have that lying around?”

The cloth was pulled out of your hands, and you turned around. “What can I say, I’m full of surprises.”

Warm arms wrapped around your waist. The heat of his body was hot against your back, and as his hands began to trace up and down your sides, you felt something in you shifting. You shuddered, body responding by releasing a wave of your scent, and he responded with his own scent of arousal that made your body feel almost pliant.

“So you are.” The blindfold was pulled over your eyes, and you shut them instinctively. The cloth brushed over your eyelids as he began to form a knot at the base of your head. “Tell me if it’s too tight.”

Your mind began to grow heavy as your omega pushed forward, the smell of alpha heavy on your tongue. When he finished tying off the blindfold, he leaned against your back, his mouth pressing a soft kiss to the juncture of your neck. You tilted your head to the side, an ache to feel his teeth pressing against the skin running through you and causing slick to drip down your thighs.

You let out a whine.

“Easy baby girl. I got you.”

His warmth disappeared, and you opened your eyes. The blindfold made it so that you could make out the shadows of the dark room, a vague shape of a person as they removed their clothes. You reached down to grab the hem of your own shirt.

“No, don’t,” He said, voice thick. “Let me.”

You grabbed his hands, using your newfound sight to reach out wrap your hands around his neck. This time, you were the one to initiate the kiss, eyes falling closed not out of necessity but on instinct.

“You okay?” He asked you again when your knees suddenly buckled.

“Like I said. Those kisses of yours are dangerous,” you breathed out.

He decided to take it as an invitation to pull you back in for another kiss, although this one was quicker and sweeter.

It almost felt like love.

His lips pressed against yours once, twice, and then a third time before he trailed them down to your jaw, sliding them slowly down to your neck. When he began to suck against the skin there, you pulled away with a whine.

"No marks, please. I have work."

He moved his hands under your shirt and began to pull it up. You could only barely see his figure as he leaned down, his lips reappearing against the tops of your now exposed breasts.

"I assume you mean no marks where they can be seen?"

"Yeah."

"Hmm." He pressed a kiss to your skin, tongue darting out to glide from the tops of your breast towards your nipples. He teasingly pulled against them as he passed, moving to press another kiss just to the side. "Is this okay?"

"Yes," You said, voice breathless.

He pulled your shirt off completely, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. He began to lead you towards the bed. Even without your sight, the mattress was familiar under your body, and you instinctively relaxed into the sheets.

You made grabby hands at him. He laughed, kneeling on the bed next to you and allowing your hands to roam across his skin. He still had on his boxers, and when you moved to pull them down, he grabbed your hands and pressed them gently down against the bed.

“Patience,” He told you, his voice rumbling.

You pouted, and he kissed your lips with another laugh. He continued where he had left off, his mouth on your breasts as his hands grabbed your thighs, pulling them apart so he could slot himself in between them. The motion pressed his clothed cock against your center, and you moaned at the feeling.

“Please,” you found yourself breathing out.

His mouth trailed kisses down your body, hands swiftly pulling both your pants and underwear down in one go. “Got to get you ready first, sweetheart.”

“Awfully confident in yourself, huh?” You joked.

“Hmm, something like that,” He drawled.

You expected him to get straight to it, but he took his sweet time. Laying kisses along your inner thigh, caressing your legs up to your hips. You wiggled your hips impatiently, but he just smiled against your skin.

“You’re doing a really good job at getting under my skin,” You told him, running your fingers through his hair. “If you don’t hurry up, I might just have to get myself off.”

He nosed your center, and your body flared up with want. “Good things come to those who wait.”

“Alpha, please.”

“That’s it.” He rewarded you by finally mouthing at your core, licking a stripe up to your clit where he sucked gently.

You were already wet with slick from all the teasing and foreplay, but his mouth on you made you gush, your core clenching around nothing, When he pressed a finger into you, you bucked your hips, and he laid a hand across your stomach to keep you from moving.

You let out a moan, fingers gripping his hair tightly as he ate you out. He added another finger, and the sound was filled with wet squelching sounds as he fingered you gently, softly crooking his fingers to press against your spongey insides as he sucked against your clit.

Your orgasm built up slowly, but it hit you quicker than you expected, your body writhing under him as you whined. He pulled away, his other hand reaching up towards his face, and you could only imagine the sight he made.

“Fuck, you taste so sweet,” he said, finger rubbing small circles against your clit. “Could stay here forever.”

“Please, alpha,” You whined.

“Please what?”

“I need you.”

He moved up your body. “Need me to what?”

“I want you to fuck me,” You said impatiently.

He grabbed your body and flipped you over so quickly that it made your head spin, and you pressed you forehead to your pillow with a gasp, “Ask and you shall receive,” He told you, and you could feel him moving around behind you.

You lifted your hips and presented for the alpha, your omega instincts taking over. His scent intoxicated you, filling your senses and making you feel dizzy, wanting nothing more than to submit to him in every way possible.

He took his sweet time once again, rubbing his member through your folds before he slowly pressed into you. He was right to have prepared you because he was thick, stretching you and filling you up completely. You couldn’t even moan, like your breath had been stolen. Your fingers dug into your blankets, eyes shutting behind the blindfold.

“Fuck.”

The alpha gave you a second to adjust once he had bottomed out, rubbing against your sides gently. “You good, omega?”

“So good,” You mumbled.

When he started to move, it made you whine. He thrust into you slowly at first, but his hips began to speed up slowly, the sound of skin slapping filling the room. You let out a moan as his fingers gripped your thighs, sure to leave marks. You pressed your knees against the mattress and moved to sit up, hands reaching behind you in an attempt to feel his skin against yours. He pressed himself to your back without having to be asked.

His warm breath against your shoulder, mouth teasingly close to your scent gland, had you reaching your release quickly.

You let out a whine.

“Shh, I got you,” he whispered into your ear. His hands roamed from your thighs up your chest and towards your neck, fingers gently pressing against your throat. “God, you’re so tight.”

You whined. “Alpha, please!”

“Just a little longer. You can hold on just a little longer, cant you? Hmm? Don’t you want to be good for your Alpha?”

You were so close. Your body felt like it was on fire and your head spun, the darkness that seemed to engulf you left your nerve endings so sensitive, and you couldn’t see him, could think, couldn’t do anything more than accept the pleasure he was giving you. He seemed to know that you were at your breaking point, because as a whine began to build in your throat, he pulled away.

His fingers pressed right where you needed them most, and you found yourself spiraling.

“Cum for me, Omega.”

You woke up with a start, your mind still heavy with lust and sleep. It took you a moment to realize that you had been dreaming, and then you were falling back to your bed with a groan, swiping a hand down your face.

It was your memories from that night with Chan.

It seemed like your pre-heat sex dreams were making their appearance. Usually they were some random fantasies, but you supposed it made sense that you would be hit with a memory this time around.

Your thoughts wandered to the shirt still in your drawer. It almost seemed to be calling for you.

You let out another groan.

This was going to be a long week.

-0-0-

You were convinced that heat suppressants had to have been created as a form of torture.

The headache made every noise feel like a punch to the brain, not helped by the fact that your hearing was so sensitive that everything above a cough sounded like an airhorn to your brain. Even the painkillers you took that morning were doing little to dull the hammering in your head.

And yet, you tried your best to keep a smile on your face, made ever difficult from having to deal with the managers.

You had been thrown for a loop when you found out on Tuesday morning that Felix had gone into heat. It was all the staff members were talking about. You hoped that the idol’s heat and rut cycles weren’t normally a topic of interest for the company, but you understood why this time they all were freaking out about it.

Stray Kids’ comeback was scheduled for next week.

It would be hard for you to have to go back to work the day after your heat ended, but finding out that Felix was expected to be on stage and promoting less than a week after his almost made you feral.

“What do you mean the comeback will continue as planned?”

Jeonhui gave you a hard look. You knew that as a new employee, and only a translator who was in the meeting to be kept up to date with the upcoming schedule, the idea of speaking out was unheard of. But when the news that the comeback would still be happening on the expected date, your mouth opened before your brain could catch up.

The head manager, Soojin, gave you a puzzled look. “Is there a reason we shouldn’t?”

The entire room was looking at you, but you forced yourself to focus only on the manager. “Felix finished his heat less than a day ago.”

“Yes?”

“Even for a normal person, a comeback is stressful. Long nights, early mornings, practices and schedules and stage performances and interviews … do you really think that’s the best thing for an omega who just had their heat to deal with?”

There was a moment where Soojin looked almost understanding, his eyes soft and a small smile on his face. You thought that you might have actually gotten through to him. You thought for a second that maybe you could make an impact on this company, give them some knowledge of the artists they were supposed to be managing and caring for, and that you could actually change the way the industry worked.

But it shattered with his next words.

“I appreciate the concern, but I assure you our omega’s can handle the load just fine. We’ve had both omegas and alphas going back to work right after heats and ruts, and there’s never been a complaint in the past.” The other staff managers nodded along as if what he was saying was common knowledge. “If they needed more time to recover, they would have said something.”

You thought about the pressure building in your head, the way your skin felt like it was crawling, the constant cramped pain your stomach was enduring, all so that you wouldn’t go into heat. All so you could keep pretending to a room full of betas.

All so that those same betas could make decisions about omega’s and alphas they knew nothing about.

It made you want to scream.

“Maybe,” You managed through clenched teeth. “They never say anything because they know that if they do, the company would use it as proof that omegas are more trouble than their worth.”

Soojin and the other managers gave you a surprised look. From the corner of the room, Maya was given you a proud smile, but the other stylists around her looked confused and even annoyed.

“Why do you care so much about this anyways? What are you, an omega expert?” One of them said.

And his words felt like a bucket of water had been dumped over your slightly overheated body. You immediately bowed your head, realizing that you had brought more attention on your head than was necessary, and it was obvious you were fighting a losing battle.

“I’m just … worried. Just seems like those boys could use some rest,” You mumbled in excuse.

Stupid. How could you be so stupid.

Now everyone would know you as that one translator who argued about an omegas needs. At best they would think you were out of line, but at worst …

“It’s quite alright,” Soojin assured you, although the look Jeonhui gave you told you that the two of you would be talking later. “But like you said, comeback is stressful for all of us, including the staff. This is why we put in all the hard work! I want to take a moment to thank all of the staff for helping make this a possibility-“

And just like that, your little outburst seemed to be forgotten.

It didn’t make you feel any better to know that your words were so easily dismissed. As Thursday turned into Friday, you made the conscious decision to not take your heat suppressants that morning, knowing you would need your heat to start either than night or early Saturday morning if you wanted your heat to end by Sunday night.

You ignored the looks Sooyoung gave you as you left for work.

Just as promised, you had been avoiding her all week. When the cramps hit you late at night and you cried out, you muffled the sound with your pillow to avoid waking her. She didn’t mention the quickly dwindling supply of pain medication (you reminded yourself to pick some up after work).

It made a part of you ache to know you had disappointed your friend. But it also made you feel proud to know that you were still doing what you had dreamed of doing for so long.

You just had to keep moving forward.

Friday went by normally, and almost easier than the past three days. The suppressants started to flush out of your system around noon, and the symptoms you had been dealing with started to fade, making it easier for you to work. The heat symptoms would come around soon, but you weren’t too worried about it hitting you fully until you were back home.

You were just finishing up your last assignment of the day when you caught the scent of a familiar smell.

“Oh no.”

Minho appeared at your doorway within seconds, and you secretly cursed the enhanced sense of smell that had yet to wear off, because the strong scent of alpha had your omega perking their metaphorical ears up instantly.

He had probably just finished dance practice judging by the sweat covered shirt he had yet to change out of.

You forced your eyes away from him and back to your screen. “Can I help you?”

“I’m sorry.”

You paused your typing, risking a glance to look at his face. He looked straight faced, almost bored at first, but you could smell the shame that was hidden beneath the rest of his scent, and you turned to face him completely.

“What are you sorry for?” You asked him.

He looked away. “I yelled at you when we first met. It was … inappropriate.”

“You were protecting your pack,” You corrected him, turning back to your work. “You did what you thought was right.”

Minho continued to stare at you from the doorway, not saying anything. You finished what you were working on and began to wrap everything up so you could leave. In the few minutes it took you to do that, he didn’t say anything.

You grabbed the files you had to drop off to your manager before you left. “I’m serious, Minho. It’s fine.”

When you stood up, a few papers that had been caught under your files fluttered to the ground. Before you could move to grab them, Minho was there, picking up the papers and tapping them on the ground so that they would be stacked up together, lifting his head up to look at you.

And you immediately felt something in your stomach twist, and your head spun.

He stood back up, unaware of your internal freak out, and handed you the papers. You took them with shaking hands.

“Thanks,” You breathed out.

Minho frowned. “Are you okay?”

No, you wanted to scream at him. I’m going into heat and a stupidly handsome alpha was on his knees looking up at me and now I’m losing my goddamn mind.

But instead, you forced a smile on your face. “Fine.” It came out squeaky, and you winced. “I, uh. Gotta go!”

You rushed out of there as quickly as you could.

As if your day couldn’t get any worse, you completely missed an equally sweaty and tired looking Chan as he was walking out of the elevator, and he had to grab your shoulders to keep you from running him over. His scent, equally as strong, only made your chest ache more.

Chan smiled. “Ah, just who I was looking for!”

You eyed him curiously. “Wow, I’m really popular these days, huh?”

“What?”

“What did you need?” You asked him as you walked into the elevator. He followed you in.

“I wanted to let you know that I talked with Felix.”

“Oh, how is he, by the way? I heard about what happened.”

Chan gave you a soft smile. “Ah, he’s fine. He …. He wants to meet with you.”

The elevator opened, and someone stepped in. It was a random staff member you didn’t recognize, probably not even a stray kid’s staff member, but both you and Chan remained silent until she left. You turned to Chan as the elevator made its way up to your manager’s floor.

“I think we should wait until after your comeback,” You told him.

“Yeah, that’s probably for the best,” Chan sighed. “We’ll have enough on our shoulders this week.”

You scowled. “Ugh, don’t even remind me.”

He let out a laugh. “Ah, I heard about what you did yesterday.”

You covered your face in embarrassment as the elevator door opened. “Uh, I’m just going to go before I say anything even worse.”

Chan was still laughing as you left, but he called out for you before the doors closed. His smile was one of the last things you saw as his words reached you.

“Thank you.”