#I'll get that slab next time

[starlitscars]

Made of ice

Jackson era! Joel Miller x F! Reader

Summary: One stormy night in the safety of Wyoming, it occurs to Joel that even though life has turned his heart into a slab of ice, there's a soft, melting spot buried deep inside... Only reserved for you.

Word count: 5.2k

Masterlist

Tags/warnings: MDNI, NSFW, implied age gap, canon-typical violence, Joel Miller needs his own warning, protective! Joel, soft! Joel, angst, fluff, smut, finger sucking, fingering, pet names, praise kink, language, no use of y/n, soft dom! Joel, negative thoughts, dea*h wish, self-doubt, self-confidence issues, Joel is a sweetheart here (but he doesn't think he's worthy of peace), rain, lots of rain, lightning, stormy weather, kinda established relationship, let me know if a tag has gone unnoticed.

Author's note: This is my very first attempt at writing for Joel Miller. I've had the idea in my mind for a few weeks now and it's hard to resist when it comes to him (did I say Pedro Pascal?) So I hope the details are accurate and if you decide to read this one shot, I hope you enjoy it as much as I did while writing it. If you want to be mutuals, I'll be more than glad <3

Divider by: saradika-graphics

Made of ice

You should've seen what you made of him.

The calm, slow beats in his chest are strikingly different from how he remembers them. In fact, he vaguely recalls the way those racing, dreadful patterns had carved themselves into his memory. With a rigid heart made of ice, it was nearly impossible to find the pulse in him, even at his most frightened, disappointed state. 

Joel used to walk into the face of danger with a rifle clutched in his dying grip, a life to save and thousands to destroy, and in all those moments any sign of life was nonexistent in him. There used to be rage, hatred, regret, and frustration... Oh lots of frustration, running through the veins in his body. He used to walk, talk, and breathe. But he wasn't alive.

Now he doesn't find it in himself to call it miracle. But somewhere between the lines, you happened. You happened and fuelled the dying fire in the far corner of his heart. He used to keep it empty and dark, like a deserted house with no furniture, a perfect place for the noises in his head to become loud and maybe help him stand the never-ending days of what everyone called life. 

You entered his life and now most of what he feels in these old veins is warmth, safety and attachment. Yes, he doesn't call it miracle, because his past doings are too  stained and unforgivable to deserve a miracle. To deserve you. The real miracle. The fathomable idea of what it feels to be alive.

Joel feels alive.

Some days, it feels like his wretched past is clawing its way back into his mind, calling those demons to end his days of peace with you. Some nights, he's restless... So terribly restless. What if you get injured on your next patrol? What if the Raiders attack you when you're out of the gates of Jackson? What if something bad happens to you the moment his eyes close? What if these damn what ifs come to life? This old mind tricks him into seeing pictures of what has never happened and probably never will. You always assure him that you'll be careful. He trusts you and your abilities, but he does not trust his fears. Because if life is too good, it scares him. 

It scares Joel Miller, way more than it would if he was trapped in a dark room with all of his fears and demons creeping on the cold hard floor towards him. He'd rather spend every day fighting off the Clickers and Raiders and every nasty threat out there, instead of pacing around the room and waiting to see if your patrols end well or not.

So he has no choice but to either convince Tommy to pick him as your patrol partner every damn time you have to do it – which he makes sure is as limited as possible – or occasionally keep an eye on you from a distance and let his thoughts consume him at the same time. Just like what he's doing now. 

His persistence in being close to you tends to earn him annoyed eye rolls and "She's more capable than that, Joel." comments from his brother... almost all the time. But he simply can't help it, and he thinks that you know it. Because you never complain nor haul him over the coals for his instincts and worries and the immense amount of care his rigid heart feels for you. He's silently thankful for that understanding.

You are safe here, he thinks. Even though he feels restless, his heartbeat has never been this calm. He sits and watches you on nights like this and there's only one thought ringing in his head. All the scolding is worth it. You're sprawled out peacefully on the bed. His bed. It must be straight out of a fucking impossible dream. You're here, in his atmosphere, in his menacing, guilty, dark presence... And you have chosen it knowingly. It's all he can ever ask for. 

The dim moonlight is swimming in through the curtains, casting a soft, silvery shadow over your face. Your hair is falling all around you like you're knowingly doing it... Posing for an artist just to paint this delicate beauty on a canva. 

Despite his bitter mood, a content smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. Tearing his gaze from you, he downs the remaining whiskey and silently places the empty glass on the table, deciding that he needs a short walk to free his troubled mind. One morning, Maria woke up and decided that Joel needs to stay behind and help Tommy in fixing the issues in the town's only library. So you should have another partner for your patrol days for god knows how long. He fucking hates being told what to do. He fought tooth and nail to prevent that, and if you weren't there to stop him, he would as well turn the mess hall into another ruin that needed to be fixed – which only meant more time away from you. 

So it's going to take only two weeks, at worst. Only a terrible fortnight before things go back to normal. It's almost unbelievable how you have managed to awaken a sense of normalcy in him that he hasn't known in decades. Your absence is an instant threat to this normal life.

Maybe it's about time he gets used to it. He's not that weak. He shouldn't let his angers and worries run him. More importantly, he shouldn't ruin your much needed sleep with his usual problems right now. You've still got the weekend. He'll take a walk and be back here before you as much as stir in your deep slumber.

Oh. The damn library.

...

Jackson is eerily quiet in the middle of the night, enveloped by darkness and as isolated as it can be in this corner of the world. It's a stark contrast to how busy the whole community is during the daylight – bustling with happy greetings, careless jokes, movie days, small parties, and lots of work to do. It all asks for social interaction and he deeply hates it.

He hates when every passer-by's attention turns to you every time you step out in the open. He hates how prying eyes rove up and down your frame every time you walk into the bar. He hates how... He shakes his head, almost rolling his eyes at the loudness of these thoughts. Joel has to remind himself that he is the one you hold onto and introduce to everyone in every social gathering. The proud gleam in your eyes always placates him. There's no need to break a jaw in this town... Perhaps.

Lights flicker by the porches and the sound of his boots on the ground is the only sound that disturbs the silence. The sky is clouding over, distantly promising another stormy night in its gloomy wake. Occasional flashes of lightning light up the road and before Joel knows it, he's passing by the Tipsy Bison. It's 3 past midnight, no wonder why its doors are locked and closed. Either way he comes to a halt, letting the gears turn in his head as he opts for a very familiar path.

Your house. It's a short walk away from the bar.

Joel still recalls that day. How long has it been? Five, six, seven months? It feels like yesterday to him.

He'd had a terrible conversation with Tommy, not at all the way he'd planned it on his first day in Jackson. Things got heated up pretty quickly, leaving a bitter taste of rejection lingering on his tongue, the burn of the whiskey only worsening his mood.

"Just because life stopped for you, doesn't mean it has to stop for me..."

The words were ringing in his head as he stormed out of the bar. Shrugging his jacket on, all he wanted was to walk as far away from that area as possible. This affronted, begrudging, irrational sting was boiling in him and in that moment he was more than ready to leave the gates of Jackson even if it called for more danger. Life had really ended for him years ago, but to hear it from Tommy right after the hell he'd went through to find him... It really hurt. 

The pain was resurfacing in rapid tides.

If his boots could dig deeper, get stuck in the snow and propel him into the cold biting blanket of the earth, he'd welcome it. If life had really ended for him, he had to make it make sense by ending himself as well. This... There was this distant melody echoing in the air and cutting through his troubles thoughts. The wind was harsh against his ears, and each step brought the melody closer. 

It really could be the last song that played before his funeral.  

Joel was surrounded by all the colors, and all he could see was white, eyes fixed on the ground. He didn't pay much attention as he bumped into someone. He barely lifted his head to apologize, and then his gaze settled on the crackling fire on the left side of the road. 

Red and orange and yellow hues. It was a fresh contrast. His eyes were hurting from all the white snow.

He came to a halt, mindlessly waving at the person he'd bumped into. A dozen of kids had gathered around the burning logs in a barrel on the porch, rubbing their hands together and listening to the same melody he was entranced by. The same melody that he thought would be his burial hymn.

Joel's eyes followed their excited faces, wondering who they were looking at. He saw you mirroring their hopeful gleams first, and then he registered the guitar on your lap. 

To make the matters worse, you had tilted your head, shooting him a funnily quizzical look. He might've looked weird back then. The town's newcomer, with a permanent scowl on his face, maybe plotting murder as well (considering that it was the main topic in all the words that already flew around about him).

He didn't answer, still dead in his tracks as if he was immobilized by some invisible force. So you shifted in your seat, silently offering him a spot among the children as if to say "You can come over and join us."

He had two choices in that moment, either a polite decline was on the table or a dismissive frown. He looked over his shoulder at the bar and finally opted for the third choice – or so his mind created another choice for him – and he nodded, joining in on your little gathering without as much as saying a word. He really wanted to hear that song.

He never asked whether you knew the words to that song, but that night when he lay in bed and his thoughts were far from the idea that he wanted to bury himself in the snow, he vaguely remembered the lyrics. And it hit him hard, like a punch to the gut.

Yeah, I don't want to hurt

There's so much in this world 

To make me bleed

Stay with me

Let's just breathe

Stay with me

You're all I see

He wanted to ignore how the words affected him in the middle of the night. It was the first night he could feel some semblance of peace, not sleeping with an eye open in case someone attacked them. Ellie was safe in another room. So he really considered that. He considered the possibility of staying. He was relatively new to the community... And so damn unaccustomed to the whole arrangement. He almost woke up the next morning and started packing before he remembered where he was.

Stay with me

Let's just breathe

Those words stuck with him.

And his first encounter with you was a harbinger of different things to come.

One day of patrolling with you led to another, one night of inviting you for a drink led to another. One peaceful afternoon in the stable led to another. One gloomy evening in the clinic did not lead to another. He was way too protective of you to let that happen again.

He truly feels lucky. You could be anywhere else, better off if you picked anyone other than this grumpy, old man. And yet you still want him. You silly girl. You've melted his heart with your warmth. 

But he's like a lake, deserted in the middle of a haunted forest and engulfed in coldness. Even though the center is warm and gooey, he keeps the surface frozen and rigid and menacing. Hard enough to keep his instincts sane and alarmed. Cold enough to let everyone know that you're his and he will not fucking share. 

Lightning strikes again in the sky.

He lifts himself up and off your front stairs with a heavy grunt. An hour has passed since he left for a walk. The clouds have fully gathered in the sky and he thinks that he should be by your side now.

Joel really cares little for the details, always asking Tommy and Ellie to spare him the explanation and get straight to the point. But with you, it's hard to forget a couple of things. One night, a few weeks ago, you were pulling him past the threshold of your house. So adorably drunk and inviting. He was still a little pissed by how the rainstorm had ruined your nightly walk. Despite your complaints about sharing a kiss in the rain, he'd dragged you back to the nearest shelter possible, because he just didn't want to get fucking soaked. Joel didn't find it romantic at all. He was frowning, still pinning you against the wall for a begrudgingly needy kiss. You giggled into his mouth, playful fingers pocking at his chest. "Come on Joel. Let yourself enjoy it... All these neverending drops on the roof, the fresh earthy scent that comes after it... It's just really beautiful. One of the few things that kept me sane before I came here..." 

He's not really against the idea. But the changing weather doesn't bode well with him. One day is sunny, and the next is rainy and it just goes to show how he has no power over the situation.

Hell. A part of Joel is really terrified of the changing weather. One day it was scorching hot, and the next his boots crunched against the white blankets of neverending snow, reprimanding him for his carelessness. Time would pass whether he wanted to or not. He is still terrified, wishing he could stretch the time he could spend with you. God knows he wants an eternity with you. 

He has seen enough rain for a lifetime. He hasn't seen you enough. How could he enjoy getting soaked in tiny drops of water when all he wanted was to bury his face in the crook of your neck and stay there for a while – maybe forever and a little more?

But he has considered it since then. If there are a few things that keep you happy and rainy days have to be one of them, he'll give you that. He'll get used to that. There's no pattern with the rainfall in here, and the weather forecast is pretty much nonexistent. He has promised himself to tell you whenever it rains, even though he despises the idea of you catching a cold after minutes or hours of dancing in the cold, letting droplets of water wash over you without a care in this wretched world. 

He also despises the idea of waking you up.

But he knows you'll like it. You careless, adorable girl. He lives to see that excited gleam in your eyes. Everytime you show it, this old heart pounds impatiently in his chest and it all feels like the first time it has happened.

He's back home in no time. 

So, kicking his boots off as silently as possible, he trudges over and settles down by the edge of the bed, suppressing a low groan. His knees still ache from all the never-ending effort he's put in repairing the library over the past few days. Jesus, he just wants it to be done as soon as possible. It feels like he's losing so much time when he's away from you. Now that you're still pretty much asleep in the same position he last saw you, all Joel wants is to lie down by your side and melt in your warm embrace instead of having to fight with his thoughts and the world to not take away yet another precious piece of him. He can't afford to even think about losing you.

Each flash of lightning illuminates the contours of your beautiful face and he can't help himself when he lifts a hand and lets his knuckles gently stroke your cheek. Your lips are parted ever so slightly and you look so innocent in your unconscious dream. He almost backs down, part of him hoping that it rains throughout the day, just so he doesn't guilt trip himself for the pout on your face if you miss it. You need to rest.

As if you sense his hesitation, you stir in bed and lean into his touch. A low hum escapes you, and Joel is too weak to deny himself the softness it brings. His wounded knuckles are soon replaced with a calloused thumb and he wonders what's so interesting about these hands that never ceases to catch your attention.

One night at the bar, Joel had caught you actually staring at them and when he teased you a little about it, you just shrugged and grinned mischievously. "I mean... I just like them so much. Your hands are always warm, and... and that's all."

He shrugged it off that night. Ellie had also considered it a flex for him to have warm hands even in the coldest days of winter, but with you and the way you looked at him... It was different. He knew it was more than that. 

And when the nights he shared with you went further than his sinful thoughts had planned, you showed him that it was more than that. It was more than the warmth you found there. If anything, your helpless whimpers were an indication of how capable and strong these hands were.

Heat blooms in his chest. It simply is endearing. The way you always seem to recognize his touch and send his head spiraling with the idea that you want him to do more. You've never been afraid of him. You've never pushed him away. You've never judged him for the horrible things he's done. Jesus, it should terrify him. Joel should've pushed you away at some point, because he knows you'd be better off without him, but how could he muster the strength to do so? Since that fateful moment on your porch, your presence keeps on inviting him for more. More than simply existing. And God, if you knew how he wants to do more than that every second of the day... Only if the world lets him breathe a little.

There's another bolt of lightning and raindrops finally begin to drum against the window pane.

Joel shakes his head to get rid of those worrisome ideas. Propping himself on one elbow, he leans over ever so slightly and lets his thumb trace its way to your chin, up to your jawline, and then back to the soft skin on your cheek. He draws circles over the blooming flush and then his thumb is traveling down to your lower lip. Your mouth parts just a little more, breathing even and content and if he gets a grip on himself, he may notice that there's a ghost of a smile in there as well.

"Baby..." He whispers softly, his gaze drifting all over your adorable face. You really are a piece of art, tangled in the sheets, in the safety of his house, and your innocent hums are doing something to him. Some obscene voice that silently pleads for more. More and more... Just to give you more. 

You stir a little more.

He leans over and places a gentle kiss on your forehead, the sweet, fruity scent he's come to like a lot about you engulfing his senses. He watches every little movement with amusement. "My sweet baby... You want to see what's waitin' for you outside."

"Joel," you mumble sleepily, voice drowsy and laced with a hint of confusion as you rub your eyes and stretch your arms before looking around the dark room with a quizzical expression on your face. It doesn't take long for the realization to hit you and the familiar gleam in your gaze makes him smile. You stare a him, wide-eyed. "is it- again?"

He chuckles and gestures at the window. "Yes, a heavy one at that."

Again, there's that hum of delight as you follow his gaze. The pitter-patter of the rain cheers you up like a lollipop would do to a child. It's maddeningly adorable.

You should be running to the backyard by now, but instead you stare at him for a while. It's his turn to be confused. Your smile gets broader by each passing second as your delicate hands trace his face and run over the salt and pepper patches of his beard. When you playfully ruffle his hair, your eyes are still droopy and dreamy and so damn kissable that he just can't help himself.

His other hand fondles with a loose strand of hair beside you on the pillow before twirling it between his fingers. You bite your lower lip and lift your head just enough for a brief peck on the tip of his nose. He chuckles, letting his fingers draw a line over the column of your neck, down to your chest, and at last they disappear beneath the sheets, settling comfortably on the warm expanse of your belly. 

Joel assumes that his presence is not too close to lock you in place, and yet not too loose to let you drift back into unconsciousness. You just have the perfect moment to escape. For goodness sake, rain is the one thing you choose over anything else. The thing you like a lot.

But you're still here, dazed eyes flickering all over his face and it just gives him a second thought. A new idea to test your patience. Seeing you still pinned under him and unmoving, was not really in his list when he decided to walk back home and wake you up. He chortles with amusement. If you want what he thinks you do, he could give you that... "Come on sweetheart, what's stoppin' you?"

His fingers drift lower, exploring the bare flesh of your thigh, right where his mouth was hours ago. Still as warm as he remembers, maybe a little bruised too. "It's all rainy outside. Ain't that what you wanted?"

"I know..." You mumble, an undertone of need sewn in your voice as you look down over the sheets that cover every movement of his hand. It's too dark for you to see anything anyway. He could easily toss the covers aside, but it's wickedly satisfying this way. "I'm- um, just feeling a little under the influence...and it's- uh, it's distracting."

His hand caresses its way to where he knows you need it the most, and you barely repress a shudder when his fingertips glide over your folds. But he barely feels you, a ghost of a touch hovering there as a smirk threatens to flicker at the corner of his mouth.

"Wonder if my hand's makin' a good influence or a bad one. What d'you say, baby?"

It pelts down steadily outside, but you don't seem to care the slightest about it. Neither does Joel. A low gasp emanates from you when his touch becomes proper, rubbing circles and spreading the slick over your clit as slow and unrushed as he physically can manage. You're still indecently wet after he'd brought you over the edge again and again before you dozed off... and the fact that some of his cum might be gathering in his hand is fueling his lewd thoughts.

You naughty girl.

"A very bad one, I see." He tuts, feeling your chest heaving up and down beneath him. It's easy to rile you up this way. Desperation is written in your expression... and he hasn't even started yet.

"She needs fixin', doesn't she?" Joel asks, bringing his movement to a sudden halt. You're too distracted by everything he does to form a coherent thought. He lifts an expectant brow, now actually waiting for an answer.

"Yes- yes Joel... need it so bad... so bad it hurts." You breathe, a helpless pout forming on your lips.

"I know baby. I know... Jus' lay down and let me take care of it, hm? How's that sound?" He demands again, but this time he doesn't give you a chance to respond as he pushes two fingers past your weeping hole, burying them knuckles deep within your warmth. You gasp at the sudden intrusion, eyelids heavy as you grasp his arm, squirming like a helpless, needy girl.

What a cruel man he is.

"Not off to a good start, angel. I know you can be more patient."

You nod quickly, biting your lip in an attempt to stop yourself from wriggling and twisting on the bed. For a split second, Joel considers pulling out to nuzzle his face between your legs and let the heat consume him. A perfect place to brave the cold, restless seasons. 

But his fingers aren't shy either. He starts with slow thrusts, effortlessly sliding in and out before picking up the pace. He makes you adjust to his rhythm, and when you let go and open up, the obscene moans and chocked out cries are all that fill the silence of the house. Jesus, he lives to hear them every day. He rewards you by curling his fingertips to hit that spot that makes you see stars.

You shudder particularly hard at that, more arousal pooling inside you and soaking his fingers. You're losing your grip with reality, and he can sende it as your legs begin to shake and your knee brushes over the denim of his jeans, but you still remember to abide by his "No squirming" rule.

You're so pliant and obedient in his hands that it does nothing but to spur Joel to give you more. And so he does.

"I like these sounds," He adds a third finger, tilting his head to whisper in your ear. "I dream about them all the time."

You whimper and tighten your hold around Joel's arm. When he feels that your orgasm is creeping impossibly close, his thumb joins and rubs rapid circles over your bundle of nerves and that's your undoing. You clench around him, walls tightening and squeezing his fingers deeper – if that's even possible – as waves of white-hot euphoria crash over your worn out body and take over your senses. Your back arches involuntarily into him. A sound between a groan and a curse escapes his throat.

"That's it. Atta girl... that's it, so fuckin' beautiful."

His touch is unrelenting as he talks you through it with a string of sweet nothings. 

Only when you come down and rest back on the bed he slowly pulls out. You're panting heavily, face flushed and heated and so effortlessly seductive that Joel is sure no fucking artist could ever capture it in words of a poem or colors of a painting. Joel is the only one to witness this moment and it swells his chest with pride. He wants to drink it in, let it run through his veins like never-ending liquor.

He lifts his hand, smirking as you gape at the way it's glistening under the dim light. You're in awe. He softly places the tips between your swollen lips and you waste no time in swirling your tongue around them, licking the slick off as if it's a delightful lollipop. And the hazy look on your face says that it's more than just a sweet treat.

His own breathing hitches when you open your mouth a little wider and take him fully in, sucking and humming and driving him absolutely crazy. He shakes his head slightly, catching the playful gleam in your gaze.

"Hm. Still a very bad influence."

When you're fully recovered and satisfied, Joel lifts you up in his arms and walks towards the backyard, chuckling at your confused expression. You give a squeal and wrap your hands around his neck to keep yourself steady, at the same time trying to gauge what his next plan would be. You really have forgotten about the rain, haven't you?

He comes to a halt, making sure the blanket he'd just picked off the bed is not leaving any part of your body uncovered. The rainstorm has eased off considerably over the past hour, but he doesn't want to risk it. Keeping you warm and safe in the cold is and will always be his top priority, no matter if his back or knees protest from how much they ache. Hell, he aches for you and that content smile on your face. Nothing beats it.

"My girl still wants to go out, hm?"

Your eyes flicker between him and the half-open door, filled with excitement and delight and a tiny flicker of doubt. "Yes Joel... but...you sure you want to join in?"

"I don't know," He feigns innocence, pretending to think for a short while before his face lights up with an idea. "Do I get a kiss for it?"

You laugh and lean up to press your lips into his in a soft, lingering kiss. It's so tender and reassuring that he has to pull back before changing his mind and taking you back to the bed.

"Then it's settled."

It has been settled for a long time.

Maybe he can get used to it. Maybe you get a better idea of what you've made of him with your presence at times when he easily complies with things that make you happy. A heart made of ice, molten enough to experience the world with you all over again. Even if he gets soaked in the rain, he's alright with it. You kiss him and all the discomfort is forgotten.

He should give it time and learn to breathe again. Learn to stay, to settle. To let you know that you're all he sees.

Yeah, I don't want to hurt

There's so much in this world 

To make me bleed

Stay with me

Let's just breathe

Stay with me

You're all I see

The words are carved in his head. He chances a glance at the living room before walking past the door. Your guitar is placed on the couch. Maybe one day he'll bring himself to play his melodies for you too. He think that he's got a lot of time for it now. He wants an eternity with you, and in this wretched world, eternity lasts as long as you'll have him.

One, two... Ten droplets fall over him. He kisses you again, harder and longer. His ice-cold heart melts just a little more at your careless laughter. Just stay with me.

[prael]

Delicacy

ILLIT Moka x male reader smut

Happy (kinda late) Moka Day!

Masterlist word count: 5,401 Kofi(donations/commissions)

"Ladies and-a gen-entleman! Step right up! Ge-get yourself a-a mystical item today!" The old Murgo's voice is loud, his tone is jovial. His accent is hard to understand and his stuttering speech patterns would indicate a man who is not well-educated, though you've always expected he puts it all on for show.

His skin is scruffy, full of moles and unkempt facial hair that creeps down to his thin neck. The elderly man's uniform consists of a long, purple-sleeved coat—sleeves that fall every time he waves an arm at the next item he tries to flog.

"Y-you sir! Consider this, this is truly a-a magical mirror, for as long as you lo-look into it, it will make you b-beautiful." He smiles at the group before him, pearly white teeth contrasting with his murky skin colour. They are the only noteworthy things about him, other than his height, a whole foot smaller than the usual man.

The rough-looking labourer by your side mumbles, "What a crock of shit!"

While the bald man at the front calls "I'll take it!"

Murgo, as Murgo so often does, announces the catch, "Very wise pu-purchase. Now, just remember, the m-magic only works if you look a-at in complete darkness."

Murgo collects his due payment and the man at your side shakes his head as he turns away. "Idiots," he grumbles before he walks away.

"You there!" Murgo singles you out. "Do you fancy trying a-anything?" He asks you with a smile.

Murgo's entire stall is packed full of oddities, and none of them are ever what they seem. You may not believe in Murgo's little items, but it's always interesting to come and see what he has to sell today. It's nice to consider his fantastical excuses and embellishments.

"M-may I interest you in a fan-antasy?" He sing-songs. "You must ha-have a wish to make come true? Consider this ma-magical music box! One wish! M-Make it come true!" He boasts about another silly item, something that always leaves you rolling your eyes. Wishes cannot be bought.

"Tha-that's a look of uncertainty. Well, how about this." Murgo holds out a hand containing a single chocolate. A perfect, colourful item shaped like a square. "Gen-entleman, please m-may I present, a most magical item to y-your attention! A chocolate! Bu-but not any chocolate! They say this one tastes of m-mocha, and its ingestion a-allows you to live a fantasy."

You scrunch your brow.

"Ingested fantasies might seem an im-impossibility, but I have p-proven through a rigorous scientific process..."

You know he's lying, as always, but you're not about to interrupt though. You doubt the old man actually has much training in anything even related to science, and everything about him can only lead you to believe that he doesn't own many resources to test things on anyway.

"...so, sir, I urge you!" Murgo finishes his meaningless rambling by saying, "Try and taste your fondest dream. Try the ma-magical wonder and live a dream so real, so plausible that y-you'll forget who you are!"

Live a dream so real... He's definitely lying, but you are curious as to the taste of his chocolate.

Your eyes switch from Murgo's insistent, excited stare to his chocolate, and back to Murgo's knowing smile. "Just this once," you tell him.

-

You sit at your kitchen table, staring at the little rectangular block that rests on the wood.

"A fantasy, huh?" you contemplate. You lean in close and give it a sniff; it certainly smells like chocolate, with a hint of mocha.

Shrugging, you hold up the chocolate and drop it into your mouth. Immediately, it melts away and you're overpowered by the delicious flavour. It's milk chocolate, but you find hints of cocoa and coffee mixed between your lips.

You chew a few times and then swallow. At that moment, Murgo's words ring around your mind. 'Live a dream so real,' they repeat.

You sit and you wait. Staring expectantly at the table, you blink blankly at the slab where the chocolate once rested. You tap your fingers. You scratch the back of your neck. And still, nothing.

"Wow." You shake your head, chastising yourself for thinking so optimistically, and push out the chair.

As you stand, your head spins. The world about you warps into another form, a dark space resembling nothing you have ever seen.

The ground crunches beneath your feet. Gravel, perhaps? Black grazes at the surface, but you can't quite make out any details. As if a curtain has fallen to obscure your vision.

You spin around and wave your hands to find a purchase with something.

And then you feel it. Feel... her?

Small, smooth hands in your own. They let go before too long, and then those hands brush up your forearms.

A shadowed girl—clearly a girl by her soft curves—gently touches your cheek, and you grab her hand again. A soft gasp escapes her, and then she giggles. "Do you know how hard it's been, to be stuck inside a piece of chocolate? Of course, you don't. Why would you?"

This... isn't real. Could you be dreaming? Could you be high, or drunk, or passed out? Perhaps poisoned? You bring your fingers to your face to ensure you're not gushing blood or anything odd. Nope, normal. Completely and utterly normal, so... what the hell?

She whispers as her fingers move along the waistband of your pants, "Did you like the taste of the chocolate? Of... Moka?" She laughs. "My name is Moka, do you understand? Mocha and Moka!"

She has the cutest laugh. Soft, genuine, and one that leaves you smiling. Smiling? You ask yourself what you're doing and how you possibly ended up with some mysterious woman pawing your crotch. Regardless, you answer.

"Yeah," you say, her laugh encouraging you to express honesty. "Definitely not a bad product at all."

"Of course not!" Moka cheers. You catch a glimpse of a smile in the shadows that surround her. "After all, I was made with all the finest ingredients to give a taste that absolutely anyone can enjoy! And you're no exception, are you?" Moka's weight presses against you, and she leans close to your ear to murmur, "This little bump in your pants proves that."

You let out a sharp breath, but no denial. Moka may be shrouded in darkness, but you don't have trouble appreciating her presence. You can feel the warmth from her body, her rounded breasts that are all too tempting to touch.

"I'm so confused..." you whisper.

"Good." With the utterance of one word, you see the brightness of a smile. How wonderful and expressive her face is. The darkness clears and the mystery goes with it. The girl in front of you can only be described as utterly breathtaking. She's wearing this smile that turns up a little more on one side of her mouth than the other, and you're absolutely enchanted by its beauty. There's this beauty mark on her nose, such a cute mole. And then her eyes... you could very happily lose yourself within them.

"So incredibly confused," you repeat, and watch with fascination as a lock of her dark hair slips past a black strip and over her flushed cheek.

Moka kisses you. A gentle, testing peck, but there's no time for timid, because she pounces, and suddenly you're drowning under her affection. Kissing her like this is all you can think about, and the way she tangles her small tongue around your own is wildly erotic, both innocent and sinful at the same time.

You are too complacent, but then Moka brings her body flush against yours. You don't know where she came from, you have no idea why she's here and what's going on, but your body is certainly not questioning that right now. Her lithe form under your touch is as smooth as the chocolate she came from.

"Take me," she all but purrs, "It's what I'm here for."

"But you're..."

"Not real? A fantasy? Exactly. That's all the reason you need to let go," she whispers and there is a clarity that brings her words like truth.

Real or not, you can't deny it. You want her, this exotic enigma. You tug her close, fingers tracing a curve, your lips following a line. Her body, her skin, you adore her. Every facet, every inch, you crave her. You take hold of Moka and lift her, she lets out the gentlest of squeaks but instantly wraps her legs around you, and just the sound and feeling of her draws a shudder out of you.

"I spent months in Murgo's storage, just waiting for someone like you. Every single day growing more and more frustrated as I waited. You can't imagine being that pent up, can you?"

She's taking off your shirt. Impatiently running her hands down your torso, like she can't get enough. You stumble until you plant her against the wall, holding her firm and kissing her with all the frustration she feels, biting and sucking and leaving her breathless.

Moka wraps her arms around your neck, curling her heels, pulling you close.

"I can't imagine it, but you don't have to wait for another second though." You squeeze at her taut thighs, making her whimper with delight.

"Taste me," she whispers and you take your lips to her neck. It's not exactly what she has in mind, but she knows it's inevitable. All roads lead between her thighs.

So you fall to your knees before her. Hands up her thighs, driving up the frills of her skirt. She's a delicacy, soft and pink, beautiful, just waiting to be savoured. And the moment your lips touch the inside of her thigh, she gasps, one palm smacking the wall behind her. The tension, the excitement, the breathless little whimpers that escape her, every little thing, has you completely engrossed.

The whole time you press a barrage of kisses against her thighs, moving closer to her core with each passing second, but the light, teasing kisses draw a litany of frustration out of her.

"P-please..." Moka whimpers.

The breath from her plea leaves her in a shudder. She huffs, already trembling. You test how wet she is with your fingers, feeling her damp warmth, her sticky arousal coating your digits. You're unable to resist running your fingertips up the folds of her pussy, using the natural slickness to help move, dancing around her clit and drawing cries from the breathless girl. Her pleasure is plain to see, the rising blush reaching her chest and the deep breaths escaping her.

You slide a single finger inside her, then quickly two, slowly finger fucking her pretty pink, twisting around and feeling her wrap around you.

"You like it?" you murmur and it's not like you could call anything happening now an act of romance, but you turn your head and kiss her thigh. Such a tender moment is shared despite the sordid acts.

Moka huffs, her fingers clinging to your shoulder. "I need it." She sputters, moaning and thrusting down to meet your slow motions. "Oh... It's so good..."

"It's about to get even better," you say.

You lap your tongue along the seeping moisture of her beautiful cunt, and you lick over her slick folds and lap up everything she has to offer. With deep, intense licks, you give her pussy the attention she's been begging for.

"Ahh! Oh, yes!" she shrieks, falling back against the wall and panting with pleasure.

The sweetness of her nectar assaults you, and your tongue finds the little spot that has her moaning each time you lick near it. Faster and faster you circle her clit, watching as her knees quiver and twitch. Closer and closer, your tongue working her into a frenzy.

"More... I-I... yes, don't stop!" she cries, pulling your face against her. She wants more, she won't wait, and she twists and tangles her fingers into your hair, pushing and grinding her dripping sex against you. "Can you imagine it? I was made for pleasure. To give and receive, only to be forced to hide away, all alone? To suffer every day, tortured by my need?"

Moka whimpers and struggles to keep her breath even. You must want to do something about that, don't you?

You grab her thighs, lifting her off the ground and shifting your hands under her, grabbing her soft, plump ass cheeks. She cries at the movement, but then her legs are wrapped around your shoulders, clutching you to her desperately. You eat her little pussy out furiously, ravaging her drenched folds as she cries out, screams filling the room as you pick up the pace. Your tongue dances around her clit, your fingers sinking deeply into the soft flesh of her cute little ass.

"Oh god... I can't stop myself," her desperate cries fill the room.

You cannot deny this girl, even if you wanted to, so you devour her sweet cunt, and watch as her eyes close, the pleasure becoming too much as her body explodes with euphoric release. She screams, desperately riding your face, her entire body quivering and twitching as she cums. The juices drip down your chin as she rides the wave of intense bliss, rolling her hips, indulging in it, prolonging it for as long as she can.

Finally, the surge of her overwhelming orgasm ends, but she slumps, nearly lifeless in your grasp. You struggle to keep her up, and she keeps trying to grind her sensitive folds against you, but her exhaustion finally hits her. So you take her, back in your arms, and toward your kitchen table.

There she lays, shaking and sweating, struggling to catch her breath, and you want nothing more than to pry her delicate figure from that dress. You strip her, your mouth kissing every newly exposed surface of her perfect body.

"This is how things should have been, how life should have been," Moka mumbles, her dark hair swirling beneath her as she lays across your table. Her sweet skin comes into sight and you can't help running your hands along the feminine curve of her stomach. Her perfect breasts fit in the palms of your hands and you trace circles around her taut nipples as she sighs happily.

You undress, and she watches, pulling her lower lip between her teeth. Her expression is suddenly guilty, as though admiring a man naked isn't something a girl should do. But you caress her face, she's your beautiful enchantress, and that moment of hesitation seems to pass as she leans into the palm of your hand. Her eyes shimmer with acceptance, and she's accepting of all the dirty things she's thinking, all the things she's about to say. "I...I want you inside me," she whispers.

Your cock is erect and eager, so hard, aching, throbbing with the desire to know her warmth, and you line yourself with the wetness between her legs.

Gently, you lean forward, pressing the tip against her tightness. "Are you ready?"

"For however long I've waited," she breathes.

She's quivering under you, full of tension, gripping the edge of the table tightly. The expression on her face is so vulnerable, open and raw, so beautiful. Her chest rises and falls with her need, and there's a hunger burning in her, a fire begging to be ignited.

"Please," Moka begs.

"Gentle..." you tell her, though who it's meant for, you're not entirely sure. But you take a deep breath and ease into her slickness.

She gasps, her grip around the side of the table tightening. It takes a moment, but she grows accustomed, her tension dissipates and her trembling is overcome. She laughs, and the sound is nothing short of stunning. Chime-like, the light, airy melody fills the room as she touches herself. Cupping her supple breasts, and tugging her pink nipples, she indulges in her lust and rocks gently against your hard shaft.

"Fuck away my lusts. Fill the void, be the man I've needed so badly," her sweet voice begins to sing with pleasure, her pitch rising.

Her cunt is so warm and inviting, so wet, stretching tightly around you as you pump back and forth. Wet noises sound with every pass. Moka's eyes glaze over and her legs wrap around your waist, pulling you even deeper.

Your thrusting finds a comfortable, easy rhythm, and soon your hips are slapping eagerly against her every time you push in. Wet noises fill the air each time you drive into her deepest parts.

"God, yes..." her desperation only heightens, "Use me, please. Don't stop, fuck me."

"How could I ever?" you pant, both leaning in, sucking the taste of her chocolate mouth, twirling her tongue, drinking her intoxicating exhales.

She's a dream, this girl is made for indulgence. Her arms hook under yours, hands grasping your shoulders, digging into your back, desperate for some way to anchor herself. You want to touch every part of her, soak up her delicious little whimpers and commit them to memory. As your breath runs ragged and your heart pounds in your chest, nothing other than her is present in your mind. Nothing else matters. She is the pure embodiment of desire.

As the feverish motion speeds up, her soft breasts bounce and her entire body shimmers. Sweat glistens along her slender form and you push her to limits she's never known. Her cries run longer and louder until she's screaming, moaning your name, muttering incoherent praise.

"Moka..." you whisper her name, lacing her with what little you can say with a mind lost in the overwhelming bliss of her body.

It isn't long before your rhythm begins to break down. A rising and falling beat, speeding and slowing, stuttering with your every breath. She's drowning with you, and yet floating all at once. Latching onto you, refusing to let go. Desperate, clamping tightly onto you as you enter her deeper with each sharp thrust.

Panting, drenched, bodies so close. Your hard, feverish heat, her spiking lust, colliding with explosive fervour as you surge forward, burying yourself inside her and grunting as you shudder.

Unbridled and relentless, the swelling heat pulses through you and down your length. Rippling through her, filling her cunt, pouring into her. Her cries peak alongside yours. She shudders and shakes as your pulsing cock pumps a shockwave of ecstasy through her.

Delirious laughter escapes her when her rolling euphoria subsides, and her satisfied smile when she strokes her hand down your hot chest... everything about her... the delight of satisfaction washes through her.

Just what was that? That woman made you feel desires you could never imagine possible. Never could you have imagined something would make you feel as if you were flying.

Never could you imagine her.

And yet here she is.

"Can we..." she seems uncertain now, nervous, unsure.

You take her hands and kiss them. A delicate display of adoration that causes her nervous smile to transform into something happier, more certain. "What is it, Moka?"

She presses her finger to her lower lip, searching for the right words. "We can do this again, can't we?"

You can't resist chuckling at the blush that reaches her chest and the shy way she turns her head.

"Of course," you say.

-

Now you understand, even if vaguely, what happened and how things came to be; your actions and hers.

But, as always, the question remains... can a fantasy ever stay?

Moka is sitting outside on the small porch of your humble home. Fond memories occupy your thoughts; nights filled with bliss; mornings spent listening to her joyous voice.

"Are you having doubts?" she asks, unable to meet your gaze.

You sigh and rest against the rail. Her feelings are difficult to understand sometimes, but you have this odd connection, as if an invisible bridge exists between you, allowing you to feel her as she can you. She wants your happiness, you know that, she craves it, and yet...

"Will you stay?" you ask her quietly, a little afraid of the answer.

The setting sun casts pink across the sky. From the lush valley, there's a stream that cuts across the landscape, shaded by the greenery, broken only by the towering tree that stands tall in the distance. Its wide leaves filter the sunlight, casting gentle patterns in the trickling water. It really is such a peaceful place to live.

You stand and enjoy the moment. Fresh air, the calming simplicity of nature.

"I'm sorry," Moka's voice is only a whisper, "I don't know the limits of the magic that brought me here. If I stay, would I be stuck as a human? If I leave your side, would I ever be able to return? It's as much of a mystery to me as it is to you."

"Should I ask Murgo?"

"That fool? He didn't even know the chocolate was really magic. No," her voice grows firmer, "Don't trust the words of that merchant." Her hands clutch tightly at her knees, "I do have this feeling. I can't quite explain it, but, I've been feeling it since you first tasted me."

"Feeling?"

"A pulling—a tug—toward you, away from you too," she says. "Magic, desires, loneliness... maybe they've been woven together. I can't be sure."

"Not sure I understand."

"I feel it now. There's this need to be satisfied. And when I'm not, it feels like the magic will just tear me away."

You push away from the railing and step towards her. She's sitting, knees pulled against her chest, wearing nothing more than a white linen gown. Seeing her so small...

"So, if I just satisfy you..." You reach out and gently brush your knuckles along her soft cheek. Moka leans into your touch, her deep brown eyes gazing up. Your fingertips push through her silky dark hair and cup her delicate chin. As she stares at you, you can feel the deep, yearning emotion within her. "Then you will stay with me."

"I think—"

You interrupt her with a kiss. Softly locking your lips, bringing her comfort. Just a moment, simple tenderness. Then passion, as you open your mouth and taste the pure sugar of her tongue. Slipping around yours, her hot exhale, her warmth, both erotic and meaningful.

You can only pull away by taking her with you, pulling her up from the chair. Eagerly, Moka smiles and steps into your arms. Squeezing her tight, holding her around the waist, breathing her scent, feeling the tension inside yourself. She kisses you back with the same intensity, lips tight on yours, warm and dripping as they open, teasing you with her sweet taste.

You stumble back towards the railing, bodies entwined. Tilting your head, her chocolate flavour can make anyone addicted. Kissing her, nipping, sucking, biting her lip. Sinking into her warmth, her body. Lifting the hem of her short gown, running your fingers along the silky skin of her thighs. She arches back into the wooden railing, and you break apart the kiss as she sinks into the support behind her.

You take hold of her shoulders and turn her. She braces against the railing and leans forward, showing off that inviting, delicate shape. Between the arch of her back and the curve of her cute ass, she begs to be taken. And that thin linen may as well not even be there; it's so taut, so transparent.

You move behind her. In the fading light of the evening, the shadows reveal more than they hide. Lifting the cloth and leaving her bare. Running your hands down the lines of her hips and sides, your fingers lightly trace back up her ribs and finally, you cup one of her light breasts. Her nipple presses into the palm of your hand, and she's so sensitive, arching at even the slightest touch.

She looks back at you, her eyes longing, knowing what comes next. Spreading your fingers down between her legs, you run them along the slick, wet flesh waiting for you. She's already ready, dripping, and your fingertips only tease her. Bending, lining up your rigid cock against her wetness. You place your other hand on her hip and ready yourself, preparing to push forward.

"I'll never grow tired of this," you say.

Moka looks back at you, blushing, hair over her face as she tries to look through the veil. Before she can respond, you push, and she lets out a sharp cry at being filled. With her firmly held, you slide in and out of her dripping cunt. It's not a frantic, hurried pace, but deep, intense thrusts that give Moka what she needs—give her relief.

"Ah! That's so deep... so deep."

Her moans spill out without restraint. Such a vibrant voice, full of the lusts she's harbouring. Holding her firmly, plunging deeper and faster, her tiny pussy wrapping tightly around you. Wet, slippery squishing echoes through the empty air. Slaps sounding with every time your crotch strikes hers. It's all so lewd and brings you ever closer, keeps driving you.

The deeper her chest falls, the more she arches, and a deep moan escapes as her body shakes. Her orgasm comes strong, fast, and powerful, making her legs quake and her voice stutter. But you hold her and keep fucking. Slipping against her back, clinging to her waist, burying your face in her hair. Her trembling sex tenses and flexes and still she moans, incoherently telling you just how good it feels.

You've lost track of the number of times you've filled her tight cunt in the past few days, so this is just another one of many. She loves it, though; loves feeling you pour so deeply inside her. She'll do anything to feel it. So you fill her. Firm thrusts as you pump her full of your cum, right there on the porch.

-

During the moments she spends staring out the window, you run your hand down Moka's back. She hums a little sound, appreciating the act, and snuggles into the blanket further.

"Cold? I could go get the fire going again if you like."

Moka stares blankly, fixated on a flower just outside the window. She blinks and laughs suddenly.

"Hm? Sorry, what did you say?"

You repeat what you said and she quickly responds.

"It's alright, but there's something I need you to do."

"What is it?"

"Lie on the bed, let me ride you. I want to feel you fill me. I need it." She reaches a hand up and cradles her own breast, grasping at it and squeezing the supple mound.

It's getting worse—her constant need. Like an itch, she says. Something has to constantly be done to keep it from being painful. It's barely been two hours since you were last inside her, and it seems to be the only thing she can think about.

"Please. I just need a little more..."

You can't bring yourself to deny her. Not when she looks at you like that. So you stumble backwards, pulling her naked form along with you, and ungracefully land on your back. Already you're growing hard, just from looking up at her dainty body and recalling all the wonderful acts you have performed and thinking of what is yet to come.

Moka runs her hand through her hair and gazes downward, a serene look washing over her delicate features.

"Smiling suits you," you tell her.

Again, you watch her eyes light up at that little kind of praise. "Thank you," she says, blushing as she clambers across the bed to kneel above you. She fixes her knees on either side of your hips and runs her palms over your chest, teasing your body as her breasts sway before you.

"Oh..." she purrs as she rocks back and forth, rubbing her bare sex up and down your length. "Oh, yes..."

You hum with delight, but remain still for a moment, listening to the happy sounds she's making, letting her indulge in the simple foreplay.

Eventually, she can take it no longer. "Here..." She lifts herself with her thighs and wraps a single hand around your hardened cock, steadying it and gripping tight. With a single gasp, she guides you inside her. Her moisture envelops you and she's so tight, the way her pussy seems to suck you in all the way to the base. But once you reach that far point, you both let out a loud moan of satisfaction. She's got all of you, every last inch of your shaft has found its home inside her.

Moka rests there for a moment, staring down with these innocent, almost vulnerable brown eyes. From the soft feeling of her velvety interior and the cute, lewd look of her blissful face, you can't help yourself, and buck up into her, plunging even further in. She lets out a gasp and stumbles forward, catching herself on your chest.

"I'm sorry! Are you alright?" you ask.

The dark-haired girl giggles—something that pleases you more than you can describe—and returns to that dainty smile. She pulls her hips and then drives them against you, before groaning, "More than alright."

Moka finds her rhythm. Rolling and grinding her hips, each motion punctuated by her spiking arousal. Her small cunt welcomes the friction, drips with desire. You grip her waist, helping her balance as she bounces in your lap, pushing herself harder and faster each time. She pushes harder, taking more of you, and soon she's crying out your name, begging you to fill her with everything you have.

Her gorgeous form rocks above you. Thrusting vigorously, her little breasts barely bouncing in a way that you can't take your eyes away from. Moka digs her nails into your chest. Her moans and cries grow increasingly desperate.

"You're amazing," Moka moans through her pleasure, voice quivering and trembling with it.

You can feel her clenching tighter and tighter, her insides quaking as she begs, and pleads for release. It brings your climax close, and despite the urgency of her pleasure, she maintains a controlled rhythm. Not so fast as to short-circuit things, keeping you on the very edge of euphoria.

"God, I love the way you..." she exclaims as a bright flush blossoms across her face. She sinks her teeth into her lower lip, muting her sound.

"What?" you struggle to speak as her slick folds wrap so tightly around you.

You don't know what it is, but something catches her attention. Her movements slow and she's searching, somehow peering through the dark outside. The noise has stopped too, usually at night there's a cacophony of singing insects and rustling, fluttering wings, but now nothing. No wind or creak or creasing leaf. Quiet. Dead quiet.

Moka slips off of your cock and crawls backwards to the end of the bed.

"What is it?" you ask.

Moka's lips twitch. Anxiety sets in over her features and she steps away from the bed, toward the window. Moonlight kisses her skin, the pale rays dancing on her shadowy form. Your heart falters and you realise... you really do want her here. Like this. Always.

"Moka?"

A strong gust blows and the window swings open. Her silky hair whips against her face, catching on her lips. She raises her hand, fingers hovering lightly in the moonlight. You remain motionless in fear of breaking whatever is occurring. Nothing feels right, not a single thing. As if the fabric of reality has been slashed in two.

The wind howls. The lights flicker and the fireplace across the room somehow brings itself to light. She turns to face it and the flames illuminate Moka's eyes. They glow a pale violet, the hue all wrong, ghostly. A tremble comes over her, and she says just five words. The last five words you'll ever hear from her.

"I'm sorry. I'll miss you."

Her hand turns to dust. The grains reflect the moon as they blow out of the window. You watch as the rest of her body follows, leaving only the imprint of where she once stood.

Time moves slowly—too slowly—like your heart, which can't beat. Something has broken, something in you, though not a sound passes through your lips. Tears stream from your eyes. The pain, the sorrow, the emptiness—it all feels irreparable. You can't bear it, and without a single word, without a single sound, the world goes black.

[romcomeon]

「 ꨄ︎ 」 𝐒𝐋𝐈𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐘 𝐒𝐋𝐎𝐏𝐄 .ᐟ

⁀➴ humans were much more fragile than he thought.

⋮ NOTE DETAILS — mammon x gn!mc. careless scars. wc ≈ 1K .ᐟ

"What's.. I... how do ya even injure yourself like THIS!?"

"I... don't know...?"

You gave an awkward smile. Eyes shaking from what remained of the adrenaline rush, your hands resting atop your stomach while you lie down on the couch.

"Oh for fuck's sake, treasure," Mammon cursed, removing his sunglasses as he pinches the bridge of his nose. Seriously, you barely even started your day. There you were: bedridden and partly immobile, with every sway of your leg hurting a tad more than the last.

Not that you can say anything, but it was a careless accident.

...

It was more careless than it was accidental. The shelves within the grand library at the House of Lamentation were far beyond your reach. By genius design, you had no choice but to use the dark spook tree ladder that was left isolated to the corner shelves.

You could try to use magic, though you are unfamiliar with the general book's looks, for you only knew the title and the name of the author. 'course you also had the option to ask Satan for guidance, but the blonde had whisked himself away to the barricaded doors of the attic --- who knew what he and the youngest had planned for their measly prank.

And who knew how slippery unattended furniture can get.

You have not a choice: by deduction, the best course of action was to use the ladder and manually look for it yourself.

With the success of finding the book, surely a long, carpentered, intricately designed slab of wood wouldn't betray you. Now would it?

The first step downward was manageable.

The second step caused the old ladder to wobble, near stumbling back to the floor; yet otherwise stood still as you maintained balance.

As the third step came, as if by some imaginary liquid, you missed. You lost your grip.

There you came tumbling down with the sharp wooden edges grazing against your leg. And then you landed on the floor, upright, yes, but your left leg stuck against the fifth to the last step.

Your leg a swollen red, a long scratch from your ankle stretched upward towards the lower knee - where blood dripped down the open scar.

"Shhh...f-" you hissed, taking your leg off the ladder and- oh. You might've misplaced a bone there. You had to drag your leg up to a nearby couch, taking sharp deep breaths to take your mind off the pain.

...

So that was the story. When you told Mammon the first time, he gave you a dumbfounded look. Nonetheless, when he found you, he was worried as hell.

Beyond the grave.

But the golden boy had to rush and rummage through every cabinet to find the human-safe emergency kit. You admit, it was adorable watching him slip from his "superiority" facade.

Ahhhh.. your train of thought came to a halt at the stinging sensation. Causing your leg to jerk up, but Mammon held it down by the knee.

"Aye- Don't move," he said, while he tried to gently disinfect the scar with the isopropyl alcohol. Not a sensation you weren't familiar with, but god it burns.

"I'm sorry, but, could you please go a little faster?"

"Ya sure, human?" he scoffed. His finger traced along the long bump of the scratch, watching the skin scorch crimson before he shook his head. "Nuh uh."

You tilt your head up to get a better look at your golden boy, raising a brow. "What do you mean 'nuh uh'?"

"Ain't no way I'm leavin' ya alone after pullin' that stunt."

"It's just once!" You raised your hands in feigned surrender. "I'll be careful next time."

Mammon huffed his cheeks in a pout, grabbing the wool bandage off the red box. Carefully wrapping it around your calf, careful not to put too much pressure on your shin, lest you kick his face.

"Bullshit," he muttered. There were more words said, yet you couldn't seem to make them out. His usual voice in an ever soft tone: slurred words that only he could comprehend.

You did manage to catch a string of words. "not on my fuckin' watch you aren't" while he tries to fix the jumbled up bandage.

Seriously, it looked good but tying it together had always been a challenge. After all, the great avatar of greed was more known for breaking things unloose, not putting them back together.

He tried. Mammon tried. Not the best of the best, but Mammon tried his best.

You can't help but give a soft smile, watching him mumble curses as he finally figured out how to tidy up the loose ends: finding the metallic clip and pinching it on there in hopes that it sticks.

He lifts his gaze one more time to meet yours. This time, Mammon was the one raising his brow. Looking annoyed, but his intrigue was betrayed by the curious glint of his tinted sapphire eyes.

"Whatcha lookin' at me for?"

A small chuckle escaped your lips, tilting your head to the side. "Thank you."

Two words. Mammon scoffed, averting his gaze. "S-shut up. Of course ya should thank me!!" as by virtue it is a great honour to be served by the GREAT Mammon.

Though you lay there, smiling like an idiot in his eyes. How you're transfixed with the cherry red creeping up on his tan cheeks, how he subconsciously purse his lips, puffing his cheeks to not let his words betray him. How despite everything he says, he still works his way to tend to you.

To care for you. To love you.

Or to simply keep you company when no one else could. Honestly, it made the future all the less scary. The uncertainty is all the less terrifying. The possibility of your bones giving up just feels all the more natural than ill-driven.

While selfish, greedy to an extent, you figured worrying in the future might just be a hoax. A fantasy in your head.

They say to get your head out the gutter, yet you couldn't help but examine each worse case scenario.

And if it's with him to your aid? It will all feel right.

note.s : lesson learned, always watch your step when climbing down ladders.

check out my masterlist | divider by adornedwithlight

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Oh my god, I love your writing and your blog is so beautiful !!! And I have a request 😭😭 can you write a Illumi x reader again? I read the last one, and it was amazing.

confluence // illumi zoldyck

tw ⇢ illumi kidnaps you (somewhat), mentions of prostitution, mentions of injuries, possessive behavior, imprisonment(?), strong sexual tension, hand job, nipple play, unprotected sex, marking, teasing, pussy job, praise kink

wc ⇢ 6.4k

a/n: the first part is really unnecessary but i like the fact that illumi is unhinged enough to actually kidnap someone just because he wanted to

The worn velvet curtain swept aside as Hisoka sauntered into the dimly lit parlor, his lips curved upwards in a sly smile.

"Ah, there's my favorite," he purred, catching your gaze from across the room. A leaden knot formed in your stomach at his presence.

You watched apprehensively as another figure emerged behind Hisoka - a tall, lean man with dead eyes and raven-black hair. Even from a distance, an aura of danger radiated off of him in waves. This was Illumi Zoldyck, you realized with a spike of trepidation.

"Mr. Zoldyck here has requested your...attentions for the evening," Hisoka practically leered, reveling in your discomfort. "I'll leave you two to get acquainted."

With a wink, he melted back through the curtain, leaving you alone with the renowned assassin. Illumi's hollow eyes slowly raked over your form, betraying neither interest nor repulsion. You felt like a slab of meat being appraised.

Swallowing hard, you managed a coy smile - the mask you had perfected to conceal your disgust. "Right this way, Mr. Zoldyck."

You led him through the rabbit warren of shadowed hallways to one of the private chambers. Every nerve ending prickled with unease at having this deadly man at your back. Once inside with the door closed, you turned to face him fully.

"How would you like to proceed?" you asked with practiced confidence, reaching up to slowly unlace the front of your dress.

In a sudden blur of movement, Illumi's hand shot out and wrapped around your wrist, stilling your movements while his other arm snaked behind your back. You gasped, stunned by his speed and proximity as his intense gaze bored into you.

"That won't be necessary," Illumi stated flatly. "I have no interest in pursuing sexual activities."

You blinked rapidly, his words slowly registering. A tiny coil of relief unfurled within you, though his vice-like grip kept you wary.

"Then...what am I here for?" you asked carefully, studying his expressionless face.

Illumi simply stared for a suspended moment before releasing you without a word. He moved to take a seat in one of the plush armchairs, resting one ankle on his knee as if getting comfortable for a prolonged stay.

"You may do as you wish," he stated dispassionately. "I simply require a quiet space away from prying eyes tonight."

His dead-eyed gaze drifted off, seeming to look straight through you. Utterly perplexed yet not eager to provoke him, you opted to keep to yourself. You passed the long hours in tense silence, stealing furtive glances at the unblinking assassin from time to time.

As dawn approached, Illumi stirred abruptly. Before you could so much as flinch, he crossed the room in a blink and hoisted you over his shoulder in one sinuous movement. You yelped in surprise, too stunned to struggle as he easily maneuvered your dead weight down the halls and out a back exit.

It wasn't until the brisk morning air hit your face that you found your voice. "Where are you taking me?"

"Somewhere your...services will be permanent yet underutilized," Illumi replied cryptically as he strode on with disturbing speed and purpose.

The next thing you knew, you found yourself inside the imposing walls of the Zoldyck estate - prisoners of this strange assassin's whims.

You spent those first few days at the Zoldyck estate in a state of constant trepidation. The sprawling manor felt more like an inescapable fortress, with its towering walls, openly armed guards, and whispers of unspeakable secrets lurking around every corner.

Illumi had unceremoniously deposited you in a small but serviceable room, seemingly tucked away in one of the more reclusive wings of the estate. When you tentatively explored the adjoining bathroom and closet spaces, you found them stocked with basic necessities - soap, towels, simple clothing. It was clear this would be your new permanence quarters, for better or worse.

The first few nights, you slept in fits, jolting awake at every creak and groan of the ancient manor settling around you. You strained to listen for any sounds that might indicate Illumi's movements, your heart pounding at the mere thought of that cold, calculating predator roaming the same halls.

Finally, after nearly a week of self-imposed isolation, hunger and thirst pangs drove you to creep from your room in search of sustenance. You discovered the small kitchenette and pantry just down the corridor - clearly meant for your use, separate from the main household staff's facilities.

And so you settled into an understanding of your new role - a quiet, unseen shadow to keep this secluded wing tidy in Illumi's absence. For he was frequently away on jobs that would take him from dawn until dusk, according to the rhythmic comings and goings you deduced over the following weeks.

At first, fear gripped you whenever you sensed his presence upon one of his returns in the dead of night. You would freeze, ears straining to catch any sound that might betray which direction his silent footfalls were taking. Only when you heard the telltale sound of his chambers door opening and closing would you allow yourself to expel the pent-up breath.

Gradually, however, Illumi's routine became enmeshed in your own - an inescapable constant to which you acclimatized like rainfall to a drought-ridden land. You knew when he was home, when he was away, when he paced the halls in twilight like a specter plagued by insomnia.

True to his word, he never once made overt demands of you or behaved with anything more than cold disinterest during the rare occasions you caught glimpses of one another in passing. You were simply...there, serving your unclear purpose of being his secluded personal maid.

So the weeks blurred into months of solitary mundanity, your only duties being to dust, tidy, and keep Illumi's living quarters spotless while he came and went on his lethal missions. You weren't quite a prisoner, yet neither were you free in this dimly lit limbo of the estate's forbidden wings.

Until one night, when the haunting rhythm was shattered.

The shadow fell across your face, rousing you from fitful slumber. Your eyes flew open to find Illumi standing over your bed like a wraith manifested from the darkness itself. In the dim glow filtering through the curtains, you saw the dark splatters that coated his skin and clothes - unmistakably blood.

You jolted upright, mouth opening in a silent gasp as Illumi's penetrating stare bored into you. He said nothing, made no movement. Simply stood there with his blank yet demanding eyes fixed on you, as if issuing a voiceless summons.

Trembling, you forced yourself out from under the thin blankets, bare feet finding purchase on the chilled floor as you faced him fully. Up close, you could see the vivid streaks of crimson painting his porcelain features in macabre patterns. Whatever he had endured this night was beyond the scope of your imagination.

Illumi's eyes finally shifted, silently inclining his head in a subtle beckoning gesture. Throat constricting, you gave a hesitant nod of understanding. He turned and swept out into the hall, ruby footprints stippling the floor in his wake.

You wrapped a robe tightly around yourself and followed, your heart thundering with uncertain dread. He led you to the bathroom adjoining his sleeping quarters, the walk feeling like a funerary march.

Once inside, Illumi simply stood in the center of the room, awaiting your next move with an inscrutable deadness in his lifeless eyes. Gathering your nerves, you busied yourself drawing a hot bath, the rush of steaming water loud against the tomb-like silence.

From there, it became a ritualistic dance of sorts - you meticulously undressing him, peeling away each bloodstained layer until he stood before you in unvarnished vulnerability. His pale, lean-muscled body was a sprawling canvas of old scars and fresh lacerations made apparent.

Illumi stepped into the tub without preamble, lowering himself into the sudsy depths as more tendrils of red unfurled and bloomed across the water's surface. You found a cloth and bar of soap, kneeling beside the tub to gingerly begin wiping away the gore.

He held himself unnervingly still, that hollow stare fixed forward as you worked. You tried not to let your hands linger or trace the topography of his wounds. At least not at first.

But as more of the viscera was gradually sluiced away to reveal the sheer scope of his injuries, you couldn't help but let your fingertips ghost over the mangled flesh with a strange sort of morbid fascination.

You lost track of how long the two of you remained in that surreal, atavistic tableau. Illumi a gargoyle being ritualistically bathed, while you played priestess in undoing the night's violence carved into his body.

It was only when the bathwater finally grew cold and clouded that the spell was broken. As you wrung out the cloth one final time, you risked a glance up at his face and found Illumi's unblinking gaze piercing into you with...something you couldn't quite place.

A silent, infinite moment passed as that indescribable energy stretched to its fever pitch between you. Until finally, a shuddering breath escaped your lips, severing the connection as you felt your skin prickling with an irrational warmth.

From that night forth, his comings and goings grew more erratic. There were long stretches where Illumi seemed to rarely if ever depart the estate. You couldn't be certain, but his constant presence felt deliberate - as if he were now lingering by design.

And in turn, he began summoning you for minor, seemingly trivial tasks around his quarters or even his personal grooming. Requesting you dress gashes that would have been well within his capabilities to handle alone. Insisting you draw his bathwater at certain times, then dimissively dismissing you before actually bathing.

It was all highly mercurial and charged with some underlying tension, yet you remained thoroughly unable to discern its purpose or source. All you could deduce was that Illumi seemed to subconsciously crave your presence now in ways he did not comprehend himself.

So you resigned yourself to simply following his scant demands - becoming increasingly indispensable to him despite the ambiguities shrouding it all. Because in spite of everything, you could not ignore the enthralled fascination that had awakened within you that fated bloodied night you helped unmake his psychic scars.

The pungent tang of copper lingered thick in the steamy air as your hands glided over the taut plains of Illumi's back. Rivulets of diluted crimson swirled away with each firm stroke of the damp cloth, yet his body remained awash in a thousand miniature lacerations.

You worked with the same practiced meticulousness you had honed over these ritual bathings - a silent, meditative task allowing you to commit every meticulous angle and depression of his musculature to memory through touch alone. Illumi remained statuesque under your ministrations, seemingly unaffected by the intimate contact your fingers inevitably made.

Until a sharp hiss escaped through his clenched jaw as you inadvertently grazed an especially deep gash along his ribs. Illumi shifted infinitesimally, prompting you to freeze mid-motion, the washcloth hovering just above that inflamed, lacerated skin.

"My apologies," you murmured for what felt like the thousandth time, awaiting his silent dismissal of your accidental infraction.

Yet this time, Illumi showed no signs of waving away your concern. He simply remained still and tense as a tightly coiled knot of corded muscle flexing beneath his pallid flesh.

Tentatively, you resumed the motions of cleaning that particular wound, handling the area with featherlight caresses until you deemed it sufficiently clear of clotted blood and grime. All the while, Illumi held himself in a rigid line, the sound of his tightly controlled breaths the only accompaniment to the rhythmic lapping of bathwater.

Once you finished, you found yourself unwilling to withdraw contact completely. Almost of their own volition, your fingers traced upwards in a slow glissade, following the stark cords of Illumi's obliques, his abdomen rippling beneath your touch as you went.

There was an undeniable electricity now thrumming through the humid air - something visceral and primal you refused to put a name to. You became arrested by the motion of your own hands roving those slick, tensed contours, deviating from any sense of pragmatic purpose.

A ragged exhalation shuddered through Illumi's form as your meandering caresses drifted dangerously close to the waterline, the subtle motion enough to elicit a reaction. At last, he spoke in a low rasp that somehow cut straight through the dense miasma enveloping you both:

"You are...exceptionally thorough in your duties."

The jarring sound of his distinct timbre instantly snapped whatever unseen forces had lulled you into such an overt trance. You snatched your hands back as if burned, heat blossoming across your cheeks as you averted your gaze in a swirl of shame and embarrassment.

"My apologies, I...I don't know what came over me," you stammered, wringing the cloth futilely as you willed your heart to stop pounding against your ribcage.

Illumi uttered no reply, leaving the space between you suspended in weighted silence and unspoken tension. You chanced a sidelong glimpse to find him staring at you in that same unreadable way, his glassy eyes seeming to take in every nuanced shift in your expression.

Just as you felt you might suffocate under that penetrating scrutiny, Illumi finally broke away, levering himself up from the tub with elegantly economical movements. You instinctively scrambled up, backing away to give him space and turning to grab the nearest towel to offer.

He accepted it wordlessly, toweling off with those same dispassionate, methodical strokes you had so intimately catalogued. But now, you could not allow yourself to so much as let your gaze linger overlong as he wiped away the last vestiges of water from his lithe, sinewy form.

Nothing more was said between you. No dissections of how the evening's events had escalated towards that deliriously heated pinnacle where boundaries nearly dissolved between you.

Illumi simply moved to exit the bathroom on those silent footfalls of his, leaving you surrounded by the swirls of dissipating steam with only the too-loud pounding of blood in your ears as company.

Yet the unspoken undercurrent persisted from that night on. A charge now existed between you - electric, intoxicating, something unquantifiable that spoke to primal yearnings.

And you could no longer ignore the precipice you teetered on each time Illumi's penetrating gaze found yours, nor the dangerous thrills that sparked through your very marrow whenever his pale flesh brushed against yours.

It was maddeningly exquisite torture to be allowed such proximity to this beautiful, lethal creature while maintaining professionalism. But the tantalizing allure of that forbidden craving only grew more insistent with each passing rendezvous.

Until that tension felt fit to detonate you both into an explosion of unfettered need, consequences be damned.

You sat cross-legged on the floor of Illumi's chamber, deftly mending one of his torn shirts with a needle and thread. The mundane domesticity of this task allowed you to sink into a semblance of calm focus amidst the ever-present hum of tension surrounding him.

The soft splashing of bathwater from the adjoining room acted as a metronome, letting you know Illumi was nearby as he went about his evening ablutions. You tried not to visualize the rivulets cascading down those chiseled contours you had so intimately traced in the past.

A sharp prick to your finger snapped you out of your wandering reverie with a muted yelp. A bead of crimson welled up from the pinprick, eliciting a sting. Before you could so much as reach for a towel, a sudden flurry of movement materialized in your periphery.

Illumi appeared before you in nothing but a towel hastily cinched around his waist, still glistening with errant droplets. His expression was as unreadable as ever, yet his eyes burned with an intense, predatory focus zeroing in on the smear of red now adorning your fingertip.

"You're injured," he stated flatly, as if this mere scratch necessitated such urgency.

You opened your mouth to protest, but Illumi had already captured your hand in his calloused grip with one eerily fluid motion. He raised your wounded finger inexorably towards his face, those flinty eyes never wavering.

A shudder you didn't fully understand rattled through you as Illumi's lips parted. Then his tongue slowly, almost reverently, swiped across the bead of blood with one long, deliberate stroke.

You felt your breath hitch at the utterly bizarre, disturbingly intimate gesture. Yet Illumi seemed entirely absorbed, holding your finger hostage as he proceeded to lave away every last scarlet speck with an unflinching focus.

Only once he was apparently satisfied did he finally release you, his gaze darkening with something you refused to identify as he studied the flush creeping across your cheeks.

In one effortlessly fluid motion, Illumi exerted his superior strength and leverage to propel you both backwards until you landed amid the disheveled bedding with a breathless huff. You gazed up at him straddling your waist with an expression of pure shock rapidly morphing into confusion and apprehension as he loomed above you.

The weight of his piercing stare held you transfixed like a moth ensnared in a spider's web. You wanted to protest, to decry how utterly wrong and incomprehensible this situation had abruptly become. But your voice caught in your throat at the first flickers of blatant intent you'd ever witnessed stirring behind those depthless black pools...

Until finally, something akin to panic short-circuited your paralysis. You managed to wrench yourself somewhat free, shoving against Illumi's solid weight in a desperate bid to disengage before...before whatever other forbidden boundary he seemed primed to obliterate occurred.

He permitted you to dislodge him this time, rocking backward into a seated position beside you with that same unnatural poise and composure. As if your breathless scuffle amounted to little more than shifting atmospheric pressure.

Illumi held your flustered gaze for a torturous eternity, neither of you daring to move or speak. Until at last, he extricated himself from the bed with eerie grace and retreated from the room in silence, leaving you in a frantic tangle amid the tumultuous wake of his upheaval.

Several days had passed since that heated encounter where boundaries were nearly shattered between you and Illumi. An agonizing silence lingered in the estate's halls as you avoided one another, equally unmoored by the events.

Until you were summoned to Illumi's chambers once more in the dead of night. You steeled yourself before entering, chest tight with apprehension over what awaited you.

Illumi sat shirtless on the edge of his bed, eyes finding you immediately with their haunted intensity. Your breath caught as you took in the jagged laceration slicing across his collarbone - a nasty wound clearly requiring medical attention.

"Attend to this," he said flatly, though his tone seemed to hold unspoken layers beckoning you closer.

You gave a small nod, throat constricting as you gathered the suture kit with shaky hands. Medical instincts took over as you positioned yourself between Illumi's parted knees, feeling utterly exposed under his unwavering stare.

With practiced motions, you began cleaning the area, unable to ignore the contours of his toned chest rising and falling with each steady breath. You tried not to dwell on how close his lips were, how the strands of his raven hair brushed your cheek as you leaned in.

A tremor ran through you as Illumi's hands settled firmly on your hips when you went to start stitching the wound. His grip was searing even through the thin fabric of your clothes as he seemed to pull you infinitesimally nearer.

"You resisted me, before..." Illumi's low rumble reverberated through you both as you stilled under his touch. "Yet you don't withdraw from me now. I find you...confusing."

You could only manage a shaky exhalation, overwhelmed by the strain of this delirious proximity and the weight of his stare boring into you.

One of Illumi's hands drifted up, calloused fingers trailing over your clothed ribs until curling beneath your chin. He tilted your face up to meet his lidded gaze, now burning with unveiled yearning.

"What is it you want from me?" His words were a low rasp as his thumb traced the seam of your lips.

You trembled under his scrutiny, rendered utterly powerless by the smothering force of his presence. Illumi seemed to study every hitch of your breath, every subtle flutter of your lashes as his palm slid around to cup the back of your neck possessively.

He leaned in until you could feel the whispers of his exhalations ghosting across your parted lips. When he spoke again, his gravelly timbre shot straight through your core:

"Because I find myself...consumed by this insistent need to have you near. Yet I don't comprehend why it torments me so."

A wounded sound escaped you at the molten admission laced in his words. Illumi's grip tightened fractionally, keeping your faces just a fracture apart as his free hand roamed along the curve of your waist.

"Tell me..." he growled, lips catching yours in an electrifying caress. "Tell me what you want."

That final thread of propriety snapped as you succumbed fully, crashing your lips against Illumi's in a searing, desperate kiss. He responded with unleashed vehemence, devouring you as he insistently turned you around until your legs hit the mattress.

You went tumbling down with Illumi's weight covering you in one fluid motion, mouths clashing with reckless abandon. Everything burned with frenzied urgency as his calloused hands gripped and roamed possessively over your prone form.

Illumi pinned your body to the mattress in a frantic tangle of limbs and bruising kisses. His weight was searing, muscles rippling with tightly leashed intensity as he straddled you. You writhed helplessly beneath him, hands roaming over the grooved scarred planes of his back urgently.

Without preamble, Illumi captured your wrists in one large hand and slammed them above your head. His other hand tangled mercilessly in your hair, forcing your head back as he bared your throat to the onslaught of his teeth and tongue.

Between the harsh nips and sucking kisses, he rasped out in a low growl tinged with feral possession: "You're mine...have been since I claimed you from that cesspool."

A whimpering moan escaped your lips at the dark resonance of his words reverberating through you. Your limbs went pliant under their spell as Illumi asserted his dominance with deliberate rolls of his hips grinding his hardened cock against your core.

"The others aren't aware of what's mine," he rumbled with casual vehemence, releasing your wrists to impatiently rip your clothes away.

Soon you were laid bare before his smoldering gaze, trembling with heady arousal as Illumi feasted on the sight possessively. The calculated divesting of his own garments seemed to heighten the frenzied craving fogging the chamber.

As his nude form draped over you once more, he husked against the fevered skin of your neck with gravelly intensity: "That's why I keep you apart...hidden from prying eyes and undeserving hands..."

You shuddered full-body at the predatory promise laced in his tone. Illumi responded by capturing your lips in a searing, devouring kiss, seeming to savor your quiet sounds of desperation in the back of his throat. One hand anchored your hip in a bruising grip as he ground himself against your slick entrance with honed restraint.

"Since that first night bathing you in my sins..." he rumbled darkly, nosing along your jawline and inhaling your maddeningly tempting scent. "I've been consumed by this all-devouring need to have you unravel for me alone..."

Illumi's words dripped like dark honey into the hollows of your very being, setting every nerve ending ablaze. He captured your mouth once more, drinking in your needy, desperate moans as his tongue slid against yours languidly.

Your hips arched off the mattress in an unconscious bid for more friction, the head of his cock now poised at your entrance. Illumi released a low, rumbling groan, breaking the kiss to bury his face in the crook of your neck.

"Say it," he growled, the guttural demand vibrating through you as he teased your dripping folds. "Let me hear you admit who owns you..."

You couldn't stop the keening cry that tumbled out of you at the sheer need throbbing through your veins. A sob wracked your frame as you surrendered to the exquisite torture, arching desperately beneath him.

"Please, Illumi...I'm yours, only yours," you gasped, fingers digging into the corded muscle of his back.

His answering growl was almost inhuman as his mouth crashed against yours once more, his tongue delving deep with unbridled hunger. In one smooth thrust, Illumi sank to the hilt, stretching and filling you completely.

You moaned into the kiss, trembling beneath the solid weight of his form as he began rutting into you in a relentless rhythm. It was all you could do to cling to him, your nails leaving crescent moons along his taut, scarred flesh as he pistoned his hips with growing fervor.

"That's it," he gritted out in a rasp, one hand tangling roughly in your hair as he held you firmly in place. "Let me see your pretty little face fall apart for me alone..."

The filthy praise elicited a shuddering moan from you, sending a new wave of heat blooming through your veins. Illumi's mouth captured yours again, his kiss ravenous and demanding as he fucked you harder and deeper.

The room was filled with the obscene sounds of skin on skin, mingling with the litany of breathless moans and gasps tumbling from your lips. You were completely unraveled for him, a mewling, panting mess beneath his expert ministrations.

"Something as beautiful as you… was never meant to be tarnished by another's touch," he grunted, the primal possessiveness of his words sending a surge of white-hot pleasure through your core. "You belong…only to me."

You could feel your impending release building, coiling tighter with each stroke of his cock buried deep inside you. Your nails raked down the hard planes of Illumi's back as his pace quickened, the bed creaking in time with his powerful thrusts.

"Cum for me," he rasped, the gravel-edged command sending you toppling over the edge.

You cried out as you came, waves of blissful ecstasy crashing over you in relentless pulses. Illumi fucked you through it, his rhythm stuttering as his own release approached. He groaned, the guttural sound vibrating against your skin as he found his own release, spilling inside you with a few final, erratic thrusts.

Your breathing slowed as the euphoric haze gradually lifted, Illumi's weight pinning you deliciously. He pressed a tender kiss to your temple, the unexpected gesture making your chest ache.

"Mine," he whispered against your skin, his lips trailing over the pulse fluttering beneath the hollow of your throat.

You awoke slowly, surrounded by the musky warmth of tangled sheets and the lingering fog of satiated bliss. As awareness gradually filtered back in, you became acutely conscious of the male weight anchored against your back, skin searing everywhere your forms touched.

Carefully, you shifted onto your side to find Illumi already awake and observing you with heavy-lidded intensity. He was propped up on one elbow, raven hair tousled in artful disarray that somehow only enhanced his aura of dark, rugged beauty.

Those fathomless eyes of his seemed to roam possessively over the exposed canvas of your body, taking indulgent inventory of the fading lovebites and crescents from his grasp that now bloomed across your skin like lurid floral tributes.

"You're awake," he stated in that low, disarming rasp that somehow held multiple implications.

You managed a tremulous nod, mesmerized by the aristocratic slant of his features and the exquisite musculature that comprised his lean and powerful frame. The dim morning light sluiced him in a warm glow, accentuating each grooved indentation and ridgeline.

"Your wound has reopened," you murmured without thinking, entranced fingers straying to ghost along the inflamed gash marring his collarbone.

Illumi's gaze followed your perusal with banked intensity, clearly taking note of the concern etching your features. His hand rose to ensnare your wrist in an implacable grip before guiding your knuckles to brush over the seam of his parted lips.

"Then you will need to attend to me again," he stated with an indecipherable undercurrent as punctuated each word with an indulgent sweep of his tongue over your captive skin.

A shuddering breath escaped you at the molten flashes his ministrations ignited along your nerves. Illumi responded by dragging you flush against the sultriness of his bare chest until his viselike arms fully enveloped you in their corded strength.

"See to drawing a bath," he commanded in a rugged timbre that brokered no arguments, even as his lips trailed searing, openmouthed paths along the column of your throat.

"While you seem so eager to care for my...needs."

Those last words were a depraved rumble you felt thrumming through your very marrow. Any semblance of objection instantly dissolved into pliant, smoldering acquiescence at such undisguised desire.

With great effort, you managed to extricate yourself from the delirious haven of Illumi's embrace, pulling on his discarded white undershirt to seek out the adjacent washroom and begin running the steaming tub. You moved through the familiar routine of drawing a steaming bath for Illumi.

Soon the spacious tub was filled with steaming water perfumed by fragrant oils. You turned to find Illumi's imposing, battle-carved form prowling in behind you - a great Renaissance sculpture of clenched muscle and primal masculine power exuding dark covetous intent.

He stepped into the tub without preamble, powerful body submerging amidst the lapping ripples. Illumi held your gaze firmly as he settled back against the curved rim, a clear unspoken directive kindling between you.

Swallowing thickly, you reached for the plush cloth and fragrant bathing soaps, lathering until the lavender-scented lather frothed luxuriantly. With utmost care, you began sluicing the rich moisture over Illumi's exposed torso and shoulders.

He remained unmoving and silent throughout your reverent ministrations. Only the intense weight of his watchful stare and subtle shifts of powerful musculature beneath your administrations gave any indication he wasn't carved from stone.

As your attentions trailed lower down his abdomen, Illumi shifted his hips subtly to allow better access. Those sable eyes glinted with banked smolders, studying each minute reaction flickering across your features.

"Keep going," he rasped in a low gravelly timbre that pulsed straight through your rapidly thrumming heart.

Throat constricting around a shuddering inhale, you mutely complied - allowing the fragrant lather and purposeful sweeps of the washcloth to tease along Illumi's sculpted 'v' line and curly, unkempt pubes below the water's surface.

Illumi's intense regard remained unwavering even as you gradually skirted lower down those powerful muscles, movements growing more sensuous and tinged with unrestrained yearning. Inch by torturous inch, your hands ventured downwards, awaiting his dark approval with bated breath.

"Lower," he rumbled thickly, giving himself over to your ministrations with subtle bucks of his hips and languid reclines that only enhanced the eroticism of the act.

By the time you finally reached the base of his erection, you were trembling, skin feverish and flushed with desire. Illumi's eyes held a dark, primal gleam as he watched your hands roaming over the straining, veiny skin.

A low groan reverberated in the back of his throat, the sound shooting straight to your core. His hand suddenly shot out to clasp your wrist, guiding your motions along the swollen length in slow, deliberate strokes.

"You enjoy serving me," he rasped, watching your face intently as he fucked himself into your hand.

Illumi's other hand wrapped around your waist, effortlessly maneuvering you into the tub to straddle his lap. Your heart thundered at the suddenness, the scalding water sloshing dangerously near the rim.

Yet Illumi's commanding presence dominated the scene - the dark, smoldering depths of his gaze and the iron-barred muscles flexing beneath you as he continued thrusting his cock into your palm.

Your His shirt stuck to you like a second skin, transparent and revealing the hard peaks of your nipples. Illumi's eyes roved greedily over the sight, the hand gripping your waist sliding up to roughly pinch the hardened buds.

A sharp gasp tumbled from your lips at the sudden sting. You arched instinctively, seeking more friction even as Illumi's grip on your wrist tightened, keeping the pace of his cock moving into your hand languid and controlled.

"You look so sweet, so pure," he husked, rolling the stiff peak between his thumb and forefinger with calculated pressure.

"I'm going to ruin you..."

Your mind swam with dizzying heat as his words sank through you. A low whine escaped your lips as his cock throbbed in your palm, leaking precum and swelling with every thrust.

Illumi's hand tangled roughly in your hair, forcing your head back to expose the vulnerable curve of your neck. His lips latched onto the fluttering pulsepoint, biting and sucking a dark bruise into the tender flesh.

You moaned, arching into the sensation as his mouth trailed lower, teeth scraping over the swell of your breasts. Illumi's grip on your wrist eased, allowing you to move on your own volition now.

He groaned, the sound vibrating against your fevered skin as you continued stroking his cock with increasing fervor. You were utterly drunk on the sounds escaping his throat, the sensation of his cock throbbing in your palm, his musky scent enveloping you both.

Illumi's fingers tightened around your nipple, pinching and twisting until the deliciously sharp sting sent waves of heat crashing through you. His other hand drifted lower, trailing down the curve of your ass and sliding between the slick folds of your pussy.

"So wet," he rumbled against your breast, nipping and licking at the stiff peak as he slid a finger inside you.

You moaned, thighs tightening around his hips as he began pumping his finger in and out, the friction eliciting delicious sparks of pleasure. Illumi pulled you closer until your back was arched and your breasts were flush against his face.

He licked and sucked the swollen, aching tips, groaning against your skin as his fingers slipped out of you. The water sloshed wildly as you writhed atop him, shuffling closer until you felt his cock sliding between the slick folds of your pussy.

Illumi's hands gripped your waist, holding you still as he rubbed the leaking head against your entrance, teasing the sensitive flesh with a wicked glint in his eye. Your thighs quivered as you fought to stay still, his gaze holding you captive.

"Please," you whimpered, voice catching on a ragged moan as the swollen head nudged against your clit.

Illumi's grip tightened fractionally as he continued torturing you with slow, deliberate rolls of his hips. His cock slid against your folds, teasing the sensitive flesh and sending jolts of electricity up your spine.

The water lapped dangerously close to the lip of the tub as you rocked into him, desperately seeking more friction. Illumi's dark eyes watched you intently, drinking in the sight of your flushed, trembling body.

His hands slid down to grip the supple curves of your ass, guiding your hips into a slow, steady rhythm that had his cock sliding between the slick folds of your pussy.

You gasped as the head caught against your entrance, sending a jolt of pleasure through your core. Illumi's eyes locked with yours, dark and intense as he guided your hips down, letting the head slide inside you.

You shuddered at the stretch, thighs clenching around his waist as he sank deeper. Illumi's fingers dug into the soft flesh of your ass, holding you still as his cock buried itself in the tight heat of your pussy.

A moan escaped you as he filled you, the stretch sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your veins. Illumi's hands gripped your hips, guiding you into a slow, steady rhythm as he thrust up into you.

Your hands found purchase on his broad shoulders, nails digging into the taut muscle as you rode him. The water lapped around your hips, adding an extra layer of sensation as the slick friction built.

You rocked into him, taking him deeper with each roll of your hips. His hands roamed over your skin, fingers digging into the supple flesh of your ass and pulling you closer.

The air was thick with the scent of sweat and sex, the room filling with the sound of wet skin on skin and water sloshing against the side of the tub.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, gripping the thick strands and tugging his head back. You leaned down to capture his lips in a heated kiss, tongues sliding against each other as you rolled your hips, taking his cock deeper.

Illumi's grip on your hips tightened, pulling you down onto him as he thrust up into you. He fucked you hard and fast, the sound of your bodies meeting echoing off the tiled walls.

You clung to him, nails digging into his shoulders as you rocked into him, riding the wave of pleasure that washed over you with each deep stroke. Your muscles tightened around him, the sensation of him filling you over and over driving you higher and higher.

Illumi's grip on your ass tightened, pulling you down harder onto him, fucking you with abandon. The sound of the water splashing against the sides of the tub was almost drowned out by the sounds of your moans and gasps as you writhed in his grasp.

You felt yourself reaching the edge, the waves of pleasure building with each stroke until you couldn't hold back any longer. You came with a cry, muscles clenching around his cock as the waves crashed over you.

Illumi groaned, his grip on your hips tightening as he fucked you through your orgasm, drawing out the pleasure until you were trembling and breathless. He followed soon after, spilling inside you with a shuddering moan.

You slumped against him, muscles weak and shaking from the force of your orgasm. He held you close, hands running over your back and legs, soothing the trembling aftershocks.

The water lapped around you as you both caught your breath, the tension slowly ebbing away. Illumi's hands cupped your ass, his fingers tracing over the soft curves.

"Next," he murmured against the flushed skin of your neck, pressing a kiss to the mark he'd left. "I’ll make you suck me off while you help me dress."

[aetherdoesthings]

hello!!! i hope ur having a good day/night! can i request headcanons or fics (whatever you prefer!) of reader falling asleep because of work and the monster trio's reaction to it? thank u!!

hello!!! i hope you're having a good day/night too!

forethoughts: gonna be out of my country next week for vacation, so probably not going to upload as much, but i'll try. i hope you enjoy!! also did tumblr remove yellow from the color choices? odd.

notes: gn!reader

Luffy

“Y/N! Check it-” With a kick, the Captain of the Straw Hat Pirates stepped into your office, holding a slab of meat. His excitement plummeted as his eyes fell on you. Your head was resting on top of stacks of papers, a quill in between your fingers. Your entire body was limp against the wooden desk in the corner of the room, the lamp above your head still burning bright. 

“Y/N?” Luffy walked closer to you, his sandals thudding against the planks below. He tapped your head, shaking your shoulder, until he could see the slightest movement coming from you. 

You shrugged Luffy’s hand off of you, forcing yourself to sit up. “Luffy?”

“Why’d you fall asleep?” A small frown appeared on Luffy’s face. You knew he didn’t like you overworking yourself and filling up your time with ‘boring stuff’.

“It’s just a nap. Promise.”

“Are you overworking yourself again?”

“N-No.”

“Y/N… I already told you. If there’s too much work for you, just tell me.”

“It’s fine, Luffy.”

“No, it’s not fine. I don’t want you to overwork yourself to the point you fall asleep. Come on.” Luffy shoved the meat into his mouth, his hands wrapped around your arms as he dragged you in the direction of your shared bed. Without much protest, your head was now resting on top of pillows, a soft blanket plastered on top of your body.

“Sleep. Okay? You better be asleep by the time I come back.” Luffy pointed a finger at your face. You let out a chuckle, nodding your head. 

“Thank you.” You whispered softly.

The corner of Luffy's mouth stretched up to his eyes. "I asked you to join because I wanted to go on adventures with you, Y/N, I didn't ask you to join my crew because I wanted to see you work until you fall asleep! Please take care of yourself, otherwise we can't go on adventures anymore."

Zoro

“Oi, Y/N, it’s my turn. You can go back inside.” Zoro climbed up the crow’s nest, getting ready for his shift of watching over the ship. When he got up there, he saw you curled up into a ball on the side, fast asleep. He stared at your figure for a moment, before climbing into the circular space next to you. He flicked your forehead, gently slapping your face, to no avail. You were dead asleep, a quill balancing in between your fingers. Zoro placed a hand on your arm, retracting immediately. You were freezing cold. 

“Tch. Falling asleep on the job.” Zoro crossed his arms, staring at your unconscious body, putting his swords aside as he surveyed the scene.The inside of the crow’s nest was littered with papers and notes, an empty bottle of ink haphazardly discarded on the side. Anger and annoyance clouded Zoro’s head, the urge to wake you up and scold you for prioritizing your work over the safety of everyone. But in the cold winter night, a drop of warmth entered Zoro’s heart as he stared at your curled up figure, shivering slightly, but still dead asleep. There were heavy eyebags visible on your face, your lips cracked. The veins on your hands were visible, bulging out at Zoro.

“Damn it.” Zoro scoffed, as he reached a hand out towards you, dragging your body closer to his. He propped you up against his chest, letting you use his body heat as a source of warmth in the cold night. “Always overexerting yourself, you idiot. Should’ve brought a jacket instead of your papers. Geez. Now I gotta take care of you.” 

You were still knocked out, head resting on Zoro’s shoulder. Zoro let out a scoff, placing a hand around your shoulder, warming you up. “Tch.”

Sanji

Finally done with cleaning up the kitchen and preparing the next day’s meals, Sanji headed back to the bedroom you shared with him. He tried not to make as much noise as possible; at this time, you were most likely asleep already. He stepped into your room, closing the door as quietly as he could.

“Eh?” Sanji looked at the bed. The blankets were still neatly made from this morning, pillows organized with no wrinkles. He turned his attention towards your desk in the corner of the room, a small smile on his face. At least you didn’t go missing. You were dead asleep, head resting on your left arm, your right holding onto a quill. Sanji tiptoed over, examining your sleeping figure. 

My dear Y/N… Sanji sighed, plucking the quill out of your fingers. Without waking you up, his hands curled around your neck and the back of your knees. Without breaking a sweat, Sanji scooped you up, letting your head hit the pillow before the rest of your body was on the mattress. He draped the blanket over your body, planting a soft kiss on your forehead.

“Sweet dreams, my love.” Sanji whispered, before heading back over to your desk. He took a seat, rolling up his sleeves as he stared at the sea of papers and ink. As the moon itself was about to go to sleep, and the sun slowly woke up, Sanji stayed there, helping you organize all your work and sort out all your notes, filling out blanks you had left or letters you needed to write. He didn’t care if he lost some hours of sleep; in a few minutes, he’d have to ‘wake up’ to start prepping the next day’s meal anyways. As long as you were well rested and taken care of, Sanji didn’t care if he would have to lose hours of sleep. 

[firegirl888101]

Insatiable Madness (8)

|Sagau Yandere Fatui Harbingers x Reader|

Bedroom arrangements... You have to sort them out soon.

Reader is Gender Neutral!

"Would you stop staring at me? It's borderline creepy." You turned behind you, seeing Dottore and Sandrone peering from the doorway.

They had been doing this since you allowed the Harbingers to get comfortable. Some of them in your opinion had been too comfortable considering the current circumstances... But other than that, everything had been going shockingly smoothly.

Well, until you realised none of them could cook using modern technology.

So here you are now, cooking for 12 people with food you definitely couldn't afford everyday.

"You won't let me delve into machines of this century, like 'The Television'. Therefore, you will allow me to study what you're doing..."

"I'm cooking, you fucking weirdo."

"I do not see anywhere that could possibly let out heat, surely a fire is required to cook food?" Dottore argued.

"Just because electricity isn't hot, doesn't mean other materials can't change the temperature."

"I see... So you have an infinite source of electricity which is cooking your food. Then conducting that electricity with a material, perhaps a type of conductive ore, to warm up that pot you placed on that flat slab. To be able to do that... You truly must be powerful and knowledgeable."

"...It's just science and mechanics bro-- and it's not a 'flat slab'! It's a hob."

"Heeeeey, when will the food be ready? I'm starving over here!" Childe whined, entering the kitchen and walking past the two peepers.

Oh my god. This is the fifth time he's said that.

"Ask me that one more time and I'll pour this boiling water over your head."

"How long do you expect us to wait?" Pantalone walked up to you.

"Taking your time as usual, mortals truly are slow." Scaramouche rolled his eyes.

...Maybe it was too early to say things had been going smoothly earlier.

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

Getting everyone to sit at the table together proved to be a challenge.

The few who did so without complaint soon got up and left when you came back with more willing people, and some refusing to cooperate even when you got Pierro to help you out.

And then you had fuckers like Capitano insisting he 'guards the house' as if it's a fucking castle or private expensive estate.

"I do not see the point in sitting to eat if there could be danger lurking around every corner."

"This is my house. There won't be any danger unless it sneaks in from outside." You tried to convince him, truly you did.

You were so close to getting everyone to sit down. He's the last harbinger you needed... and the dinner is still warm too!

"Your argument is weak and insulting. I have offered to protect your home, and protect your honour. Yet, you force me to move away?" He questions you, his voice showing unfiltered offense.

Well, if he puts it that way.... I suppose he's doing me a favour, he thinks he is in his mind at the very least. If I challenge him I think he'll grow hostile and refuse further...

"Please," You said after a short while of thinking. "Please join us at the table. I promise the moment you finish eating you can return to your duties, Lord Capitano."

If I remember correctly, most if not all Fatui soldiers respected him due to his loyalty towards his soldiers, no matter what age or gender. He would spend his time for them after a battle, and would make sure everyone was healthy and ready for the next day.

Of course, this couldn't possibly be the full truth, he's a Fatui Harbinger! I doubt he got the first rank by just handing cakes to people.

Besides, this was all from memory. If things turned for the worst, you could always google some theories and knowledge. Or...! Or, you could wait for the game to update! Surely more would be revealed there?

"Even if I... joined you for dinner... I wouldn't dare eat." He sighed after thinking about your words.

"Why? Ohhhhh! It's because of your mask, right?" You suddenly realised.

You were just being insensitive all along! How did it take you this long to come to the conclusion he doesn't take it off?

"Could you please still join? I won't pressure you to eat, I promise." You smiled at him.

You heard a deep sigh, then he slowly nodded.

"When the first person finishes eating, I'll return here."

Wooohoo! Finally, that took way longer than you would have liked. You did lie a bit though, you were going to lock the front door so he couldn't just stand in the middle of it anymore.

It was beginning to get a bit cold in the house, and you didn't feel like hearing extra complaints from a certain banker...

You led him towards the dining room, and when you finally arrived, every single harbinger was looking at the two of you with boredom present on their faces.

"Took you long enough." Scaramouche scoffed with his arms crossed. "Why did you even make us sit together anyway?"

"When you go hungry, don't expect me to make you food then."

"They're kidding right? I don't have to eat to survive, unlike some of these mortals." He rolled his eyes.

"It's still polite, show some etiquette." Pantalone lightly scoffed in his direction, a smile present on his face.

"This all looks rather lovely." He complimented you, watching you sit down at the head of the table, opposite of Pierro.

"Thank you, but please don't compliment my cooking. This is the first time I've actually cooked a proper meal."

You didn't actually cook this. You just took all the noodles you had left in your personal cupboard and combined them into one boiling pot.

You were surprised Dottore and Sandrone didn't notice, especially since they were focusing so intently on you.

"Seriously? You're one talented chef! The noodles you made are perfect, just as good as the ones I've tried in Liyue!" Childe praised you, taking the fork on the side of his plate and dragging the noodles up to eye level.

"Wait a minute... Why has everyone else got chopsticks besides me!?" He suddenly realised.

"Because I need to get rid of them, I'm sick of my cupboards piling up with these shit ones. Plus, I'm aware you still can't use them."

Speaking of your personal and reusable chopsticks, you left them in the kitchen.

"I'm excusing myself from the table to get my own chopsticks since I forgot to grab my personal pair. If I come back and see any of you out of your chairs, I'm kicking you out of my house.

"You're not in any position to say--"

"STAY IN YOUR FUCKING CHAIR."

"Alright, alright! Psh, they can't take a joke."

"If you don't want to use the chopsticks I've provided, you may use the forks I placed in the middle of the table." You added in, almost forgetting that part.

Some harbingers let out a sigh of relief.

...I'll not question that.

You stood up and pushed your chair in, walking to the kitchen and grabbing your chopsticks with a special pattern.

Now is the time to take a deep breath, relax, prepare a couple questions you want to ask and get these Harbingers out of your house.

You've gotten too fearful. They killed your family, your neighbours, your friends. You should never forget that fact, you can't fight them or resist in fear of being killed. But, you can learn how to survive with them.

Take another deep breath. Hide your fear as best you can.

"I'm back!" You announced, a smile present on your face as you sat down where you left off.

You watched each Harbinger eat the food you prepared respectfully, some with small smiles and others looking as bored as earlier.

"So...." You started, nervously stirring your noodles.

"You want to ask questions, correct?" Pierro interrupted your collected thoughts, a sigh erupting from his lips.

"It's obvious that's why you grouped us up together, it's downright clear you know some of us can't eat or don't like to."

"Well, now that you've told me it was obvious, I won't beat around the bush."

"Beat around the... excuse me?" Arlecchino raised an eyebrow after eating another.

"Figure of speech."

"Ah, understood. Continue."

"Actually, before you get down to business I'd like to ask a question of my own." Signora raised her hand.

"And... what would that be? Don't you think I've earned the right to ask my questions first?" You turned your attention to her.

Now that you think about it, she hasn't spoken much at all. This is the first time she's directly addressed you since you first got captured.

...Apart from calling you a child of course, you could never forget that of all things.

"The noodles are a little plain, too plain for my liking. Do you have anything extra to add to it? Perchance some condiments? Your bowl looks... different to our own bowl's. What did you add to it?"

"I forgot you don't know how pot noo- I mean noodles work in this world! Sorry, I keep forgetting how you came from another place entirely different to this planet." You gasped, running to the kitchen and returning with different coloured packets.

"What... are they?" Sandrone pointed at the plastic packs.

"They look like poisons my clone's deliver for me to test out." Dottore thought outloud.

"Not at the table, please." Pantalone cringed.

"These, Harbingers, are a miracle in the making." You began, catching the attention of all of them.

'They look like puppies... It's cute.' Is what you would think if you forgot these are bloodthirsty monsters.

"Allow me to introduce you to the world of Sauce Packets. Each colour and size represents a flavour in the packet, and what garnish you'd like on top of your noodles!" You explained, placing all the packets you could find next to the pile of forks which had been unused.

"Amazing! You just get to pick like that?"

"Yup!"

"And... There's nothing else to it? No storing the packets in a cool area so they don't go off?"

"Nope!"

"Incredible... How does the food not become moldly or uneatable?" Dottore muttered.

"They're sealed really well. No air can get in or out until you rip the packet open."

"I want these two." Scaramouche rolled his eyes, grabbing two packs from the pile and holding them above his bowl.

"Be careful not to grab them too tight or they'll--!" You tried to speak as loud and quick as you could. But, unfortunately... "Burst..."

"What the actual shi--!?"

"There's a lot of sauce in those packets... Luckily for you, you held them above your bowl so the majority went in it! Thanks for not wasting any." You struggled to hold your laughter, grabbing a couple tissues from your pocket.

"Did any get on you?" You let a small giggle pass you lips.

He stared at you for a moment, his eyes burning through yours. After a couple moments, he came to reality and noticed all the harbingers laughing, giggling and chuckling at his previous actions.

"...No." He snatched the tissues from your open hand.

"How amusing and childish Scaramouche." Dottore commented, covering his mouth which hid his grin.

"I don't want to hear that kind of comment from you of all people." The puppet shook his head with a snarl, wiping his lap with the tissues.

"Alright, I only have these two flavours left, the red packet on your left being a really spicy flavour. The orange packet on your right being chicken. Oh, and, the smaller packets I have contain either basil and garlic, as well as coriander here."

The Harbingers, after hearing your explanation, picked which packets they wanted and put them in their bowls of noodles. Except Capitano, he hadn't touched anything since he sat down at the table.

Once demonstrating how to mix the noodles with the cutlery, the Harbingers began to eat once more with happier smiles than before and light chatter.

"So, you wanted to ask some questions?" Pierro coughed into his hand, his expression soon turning stern and distant.

"Yes! Thank god we're back to this topic." You shook your head, a wry smile on your face.

"...What exactly are you planning to do next?" You asked the first question.

"What do you mean by that?" Columbina smiled eagerly at you.

"You're stuck in my world, thanks to Dottore's compass breaking... which looked oddly close to an illegal chest compass - but I won't judge the design."

"Yes, thank you for adding the 'DOTTORE'S COMPASS' breaking in your reasoning." Sandrone nodded with a satisfactory smile.

"Anyway, what do you plan to do next? You can't just hideout in my house until Dottore somehow creates a new machine, with materials he won't ever get his hands on since you're all no longer in Teyvat."

"You mean you don't have the same minerals here as in Teyvat?" He questioned you, tapping the table to form a little tune.

"Did you really think an ore called 'Magical Ore Chunk' would exist here?"

"...We didn't name it."

"I suppose the one thing you could say exists would be Iron. But I have no idea whether they work the same, they could very well have different effects when mined due to different adaptations to their environment."

"Do you use Iron to craft weapons?" Capitano spoke for the first time since entering the dining room. Too bad he sounds so excited, the answer won't please him too much.

"We do... or, we did. In the past hundred years, we've developed new weapons using different minerals and... chemicals." You grimaced.

"Oooh, this is getting interesting!" Columbina laughed, finishing her noodles with a pleasant sigh. "Sooo good."

"Glad you like them." You nodded at her, before returning your attention back to Dottore.

"Don't ask me about the chemical part. It's illegal for those to know how the dangerous substances are made, unless they're working for the goverment or a specially trained company."

"How dangerous could they really be...?"

"Again," You sighed. "Don't question it."

"I'm still traumatised when you put on that surgery channel earlier this afternoon."

"Back to my question?" You asked them again, tone sounding hopeful for a proper answer.

"Truthfully, we don't know what's going to happen. Haven't had a meeting to discuss it yet." Tartaglia shrugged, finishing also and putting his fork in the bowl.

"Tartaglia." Capitano scolded.

"Yes, Captain!" Childe saluted. Capitano and Pulcinella just shook their heads as a reply.

"Tartaglia is right, we don't know what to do."

"By chance, did your parents happen to know anything revolving machinery and world travelling?"

This is unwelcome territory now.

"Maybe. However, we wouldn't be able to ask them anyway." You shook your head, resisting the urge to lash out.

"Why? Are they out of town? Or perhaps they're at work someplace else?"

"You killed them."

Silence then took hold of the Harbinger's, not one person touched the food in front of them nor moved a centimetre.

"What?" Childe broke the silence, his voice as quiet as a mouse.

"You murdered my family in cold blood, butchered their bodies when you found they had no use to you and then dumped them to the side."

They all continued to stay silent, some closing their eyes, while some's faces showing an ounce of guilt.

Like you believed that guilt though.

"Fuck this." Scaramouche rudely announced, pushing his chair out and walking out of the room.

"I wanted to ask a few more questions, but you know what, I'm not in the mood anymore. Enjoy what's left of dinner, I know I won't. With my bruised body, I'm surprised I've lasted this long without collapsing in pain."

And with that, you left the table for the final time that evening. Carrying your bowl with you, you ascended up the stairs to your bedroom with tears threatening to spill from your eyes.

A bit sad, isn't it? Well, they've got more coming to them so I wouldn't get sad just yet. You wouldn't believe what I've got planned lol

Please don't expect too many happy, nice and generally fluffy scenes.

This is Yandere, a genre which should never, under any circumstance be considered normal. It's abusive, unhealthy and leads to a lot of victims facing awful conditions which they never should or ever have to endure no matter who they are.

This is fiction that I'm writing, meaning it's all taken light-heartedly IN A FICTIONAL SENSE.

If anyone, by chance, is currently in conditions where a loved-one or yourself has suddenly become distant and/or being hurt when away from eyes please get help. Talk to them, or if it's you, talk to someone you know you can trust.

If you can't talk to anyone, find authorities who can help you. Call 999, as it is in the U.K, or your local emergency service. They will always help you, and will never deny your rights or freedom.

Thanks for reading this, I hope all who's reading knows this information already, but I thought I'd include it since who knows when it comes to where you are in the world and whether your education programs taught critical information like this.

On to more happy stuff!:

Thank you all so much for the support, I hope you'll stick with me for the rest of the parts in this series until I get to the finish line. :)

Back to the fluffy stuff convo... I'm really trying to squeeze them in, because if Y/N isn't showing kindness or anything nice to any of them, none of them will begin to grow feelings for them. It may seem out of place, but Y/N is coping right now. It's not like they can leave the house to run for help.

They saw what the Harbingers can do without thinking of other's lives being a consequence.

✨Elusive✨ Taglist!:

@valeriele3 @pale-value @pix-stuff @yumi-genshin-writer @yuii-v @itz-luna @annoying-mary @etherisy @khalhaimdad @haikyuusboringassmanager @magica-ren @sweatyexpertdeputyduck @booksandteaplusart @9140 @whatamidoing89 @raesleepyhead @nasidibakar @shikanosn @purpleamethystsblog @chihawari @esthelily @stuffyfrenchflowers @conspicuous-mayonnaise @sielt @katsumikumo @greyhoundwires707 @carminerin @raidendeeznuts123 @angelofdarkness2 @conspicuous-mayonnaise @ginnxy-galaxy @clara-maddenlin @bk-4-trash-fire @uniqaal @tnsophiaonly @vianitry @dottoreandcolumbinaslovechild

Quick Reminder Here! If you no longer want to be on the taglist that's completely fine; I take no offence whatsoever so please don't hesitate to tell me. ^^

[watarfallar]

Desert snacks anyone?

Scar: You know, you were right. Grian: About what specifically? Because I’m right about a lot of things.

Scar: So Grian, how did your first time cooking dinner go? Grian: Pretty good if I do say so myself. Scar: Oo! Okay, what are we having? Grian: Alright, so for appetizers, we have a potato. Scar: A whole potato? Grian: Yes. And then for the main course, we have grilled cheese sandwiches! Scar: These just look like big slabs of black. Grian: Because that's what they are! Grian: And then for desert, we have chocolate. Scar: These are just chocolate chips? Grian: They sure are! Grian: And then for drinks, we have toast! Grian: *lifts up a glass of blended toast* Bon appetite!

Scar: Can you keep a secret? Grian: Well, I'm good until I meet the next person.

*Scar and Grian are planning to break in somewhere* Scar: We need to distract the guards. Grian: Right. Scar: What are we gonna do? Grian: I'm gonna break their elbows while you poke their eyes. Scar: Grian: Scar: Deal.

Grian: If I didn't know any better, I'd say you're impressed. Scar: But you do know better.

Grian: I wonder who’s ruining my life. Grian: *looks in the mirror* Grian: So we meet again.

Scar: The greatest trick the devil ever pulled was changing their name to Grian.

Scar: What is the most illegal thing you can do with one gold? Grian: Exchange it for a hundred copper, put them all in a sock, and then beat someone to death with it.

Scar: Vegetable oil is made from vegetables, coconut oil is made from coconuts, so BABY OIL- Grian: CAN'T WE JUST HAVE A NICE FAMILY DINNER FOR ONCE?!

Grian: If I stay in bed I'll be warm. If I get in the shower, I'll also be warm. But the distance between the bed and shower? No. That is not warm.

Grian: A fistfight CAN be romantic. (<-NO BUT THIS IS LITERALLY JUST THE CACTUS FIGHT-)

Scar: Why are you like this?? Grian: I used too much "No More Tears" shampoo as a kid and I haven't felt a single emotion since.

Scar: Are you coming to bed? Grian: I can't. This is important. Scar: What? Grian: Someone is wrong on the internet.

Scar: Just say when. Grian: When. Scar: I- Scar: Now or later? Grian: Oh.

Grian: So what are your political beliefs? Scar, awkwardly trying to impress them: Well, I think Pikachu would be a lot more powerful if he had a gun.

Scar: Kill me nowwwww. Grian: Sorry, no can do. I need your help with my homework.

Scar: Everything’s fine, Grian. Grian: Scar, I know your relationship with the english language is strictly casual, but you- I- *deep inhale* ALLOW ME TO TELL YOU WHAT’S NOT FINE.

Scar: I'd make fun of your height but there isn't enough to make fun of.

Scar: If by any chance Grian should attack, just start calmly talking about anything.

Grian: I love saying 'fuck me' because it can either be sexual or self-loathing and those are two things that describe me perfectly.

Grian, making a cup of tea: Yeah, get into that leaf juice, you sexy, sexy bee sauce. Scar: Hey, do you take constructive criticism? Grian: I absolutely fucking do not.

Grian: Of course I have a lot of pent-up rage, you fool! I've been the same height since I was twelve!

Scar, shooing Grian away: Can you go be depressed over there? You’re bumming out my whole area.

Scar: I can’t believe all these people are wearing black. black is supposed to be my thing, they’re all just posers. Grian: Scar, for the last time, we’re at a funeral.

Grian: No problemo! Grian, internally: But it was all problemo.

Grian: I want a trip down memory lane. Scar: *proceeds to grab every warrior cats book they have and sets them in Grian's lap* Scar: I heard you needed these? Grian: YES! ALL OF THEM!

[in1-nutshell]

Hi!

How would TFA team and elite guard react to buddy children?

(Like for example: Buddy adopted some children)

Ooohhh! This is going to be fun! Since you did not specify which characters specifically, I will be picking them at random.

Hope you enjoy!

Optimus, Ratchet, Jazz, and the Jettwins reaction to single parent Human Buddy

SFW, platonic, familial, Human reader

TFA

Buddy was Sari's babysitter.

Well, her human babysitter. Professors Sumdac thought it was important to at least have another person in Sari's life that wasn't him or a robot.

And they were a great babysitter. They had the job roughly 3 years before the Autobots came to Detroit.

That was roughly the time they had recently adopted a set of baby triplets. They had opened their door one night and a classic wicker basket filled with the babies. The note on the basket simply said to take care of them. Buddy's original plan was to take them to Fanzone in the morning.

But Buddy had gotten attached to them.

Buddy explained their new situation to the Professor which was met with understanding and a pay raise with additional medical insurance.

Buddy's friends had noticed their sudden absences and tired look on their face. Everyone was getting worried. So, an intervention was called.

"Why is everyone here?"--Buddy

"It's an intervention kid."--Ratchet

"For who?"--Buddy

"For you! You've been so sleepy and tired recently."--Bumblebee

"Not to mention you missed our game tournament."--Sari

"The gaming--Oooh! I forgot to tell you guys!"--Buddy

"Forgot to tell us what?"--Optimus

"I'll show you guys tomorrow! Make sure to bring the Elie Guard if you guys want!"--Buddy

The next day Buddy came into the base with a baby carrier and two in the stroller.

To say everyone was surprised was an understatement.

Optimus

Vietnam flashbacks to the first episode.

Optimus is surprised to find out that Buddy was taking care of new born children. Even more finding out they are triplets.

Twins are something that rarely happens on Cybertron. Even fewer after the war was over. Triplets were in a sense unheard of.

He is nervous to even touch the little ones. They looked so fragile and tiny! They were even smaller than Sari!

The babies on the other hand were enamored by the firetruck.

By the end of 15 minutes, Optimus had his servos with the triplets who were crawling around and hugging his digits.

He swears to protect these kids with his life.

"Gah!"--Baby 1

"Aw they like you Prime! Isn't that cute, wait are you crying?"--Buddy

Optimus sniffling and trying not to let the tears spill.

"...no-no... I'm fine..."--Optimus

Ratchet

At first Ratchet thinks the smaller humans are the equivalent of human minibots.

Then he finds out they are babies, he stops for a good couple of seconds.

Rebooting: Grampa mode activated.

As said before, it's rare to have twins on Cybertron. He had never seen triplets in all of his technical career.

He suddenly understands why Buddy has been acting the way they had for the past months. They were taking care of the kids.

Ratchet makes sure to brush up on his knowledge of babies to help Buddy out a bit. While Buddy takes a break or a much needed nap, he makes sure the kids are well taken care of.

"Aww. The Doc bot's gone soft!"--Bumblebee

"Hear that kiddo. That's the sound of a bot who's going to get strapped to the medical slab in 5 minutes if he doesn't quit."--Ratchet

"Bah!"--Baby 2

Jazz

Jazz is floored by the amount of cuteness these babies are.

He totally gets why Buddy would be tired from these kids.

It's bad enough trying to keep track of the Jettwins and they are at least old enough to be here. Those babies still have a long way to go before even walking!

Jazz handles the babies with the utmost care. Makes sure that the babies are having fun while being safe.

The babies themselves are enamored by Jazz's voice. He is the to go bot for nap time. The babies fall asleep in record time.

"So these little guys are all related?"--Jazz

"Yeah they are."--Buddy

"I wish you luck then. If the Jettwins were hard enough now..."--Jazz

"...I know Jazz, I know..."--Buddy

Jetfire and Jetstorm

The twins are freaking out!

In a good way!

They've never seen another set of twins back on Cybertron, much less human twins.

Now they know that they know that there can be triplets!...

Jazz has to calm them down before they can hold the babies. And they have to promise Buddy that they will not use their powers around the babies.

The twins once they have the babies are uncharacteristically quiet and still. They take in the tiniest details of the babies and how each one differs from the other.

They promise each other to look after them, even when they get older. Siblings have to stay together. The triplets are now the twins siblings now. Buddy has two more robo kids to take care of.

"Buddy! It's my turn to get 1 but Jetfire isn't letting them go!"--Jetstorm

"Jetfire, listen to your brother and pass your siblings to him, gently."--Buddy

"Please! Just a little longer!"--Jetfire

"You either pass your siblings or they come with me and you have to go back to Sentinel."--Buddy

"Here brother!"--Jetfire

Somewhere on the Steelhaven.

"...Someone just insulted me..."--Sentinel

[joanna-olson]

Homesick

Sooo, I haven't really written anything for @galladrabbles in a hot minute, but inspiration struck this week and since I'm home with Covid (yay?) I finally found the time to actually write again. I hope I'll get back into the swing again, but I won't promise anything. Anyways this weeks prompt is "homesick" and it's from @sickness-health-all-that-shit. Here is what I came up with.

___________________________

Ian lies awake, staring at the ceiling.

Everything is like he remembers, the city noises, Carl snoring somewhere in the dark, someone yelling in the distance. The shitty matress that is so much softer than the slab he had slept on in prison.

He closes his his eyes and imagines a warm body next to him, a soft snore and a smell that is distinctly Mickey.

Ian is at home, but he doesn’t feel like it, not really.

He feels the longing burning in his chest. Longing for that uncomfortable slab with Mickey in his arms. Locked up but home.

[thewertsearch]

Just as it's up to you to face the decision to claim immortality before you enter your creation.

A classic perk of godhood - and one I considered to be an Ultimate Reward candidate, back in Act 4.

Hopefully it's a flavor of immortality that still lets you age. If Vriska's to be believed, then Sburb wants to be played by adolescents - but they don't need to be kids forever, do they?

TT: Are you saying I will? No. […] TT: Maybe this question will suit you better. TT: Is it probable? That's a strange question to ask someone who is omniscient and therefore knows outcomes with one hundred percent certainty. […] You have exactly a fifty percent chance of ascending to the god tier.

A non-binary probability? From an omniscient being?

That doesn't... that makes no....

Alright, screw it. I'll nerd-snipe myself on this one.

First of all - is Scratch taking doomed timelines into account? Because one way to interpret this statement is that exactly 50% of all timelines will feature Rose's God Tier ascension. If so, this is a functionally useless statement, as we don't know which category the Alpha Timeline falls into.

Another, more interesting interpretation arises if we assume Scratch is only referring to the Alpha Timeline - or, more accurately, the Alpha Timelines.

The whole point of the Scratch is to create another instance of the kids' session - one which can't be doomed, because that would render the whole endeavor pointless. Therefore, there's about to be a second non-doomed timeline in play, with a second Rose Lalonde.

If there are two Alpha Roses, and if 'Alpha Rose' has a 50% chance of ascending, then it sounds like only one Rose will ascend. Either our Rose will become a god, or the next Rose will.

Because, much like the decisions you must face to complete your dual suicide missions, you have two ways of achieving godhood to choose from. […] TT: By dying on the Quest Bed on my planet, and some other way? Yes. TT: Is there another Quest Bed somewhere? Yes. Good guess, Seer.

Aradia’s Time Slab, in Derse, functioned as a backup Quest Cocoon. Her ascension raised a lot of questions, and hopefully we're about to get some answers.

Notably, the Time Slab was able to ascend Aradia's dream self, long after her original body was lost. Can it only solo-ascend dream selves, or could Jade use one to ascend without Jadesprite? Could Rose use one, even after her dream self is consumed by the Tumor?

Also, why is this mechanic hidden from the Players? Is it even an intended feature of the game? I have to assume you're not supposed to learn about it from a corrupted First Guardian. The trolls completed the entire game, and none of them seemed aware of it - so when do you learn about it? What's it for?

TT: Where? What difference does it make? You already know where the first one is. You have the choice to go there right now and take your own life.

You have the choice, but it’s obviously not that simple.

'Logically', every player 'should' God Tier as soon as they learn it's possible - but we're dealing with people here, not ratfic protagonists. It’s not easy to go through with something like this, even when you know it’s exclusively beneficial.

[thisisourlovestory]

Safe and Sound

Finnick Odair x reader soulmate AU

Summary: you are a victor from district 4. The Quarter Quell has just been announced. How will you cope with the turn of events coming your way.

Word count- 2.8k

Notes: Happy New Year! Hope you enjoy this one. My phone deleted half of it so I had to rewrite it but that worked in my favour and I think it’s better than it was

Chapter 3

The next morning I was awoken by knocking at my door. Assuming it to be Lysander I ignored it and took my sweet time getting ready, taking a long shower under burning water, brushing my teeth vigorously, loosely clipping back the front strands of my hair and slipping on a pale blue dress from the wardrobe in the wall before making my way to the dining area. I followed the smell of freshly cooked bacon and pancakes, my mouth watering as I sat down and took a few pancakes, stacking them up, cutting a slab of butter that melted as soon as I dropped it on top, drizzling sticky sweet syrup over them and layering bacon on top. I grabbed a fork and dug into my towering pillar of food, the salty bacon contrasting with the sugary syrup. I polished it off in no time at all and reached for the piles of jewel like fruits, stacked in tiny ceramic bowls in the centre of the table. I had just bit into a slice of watermelon, pink juice dripping down the corner of my mouth, when Mags walked in with Lysander who flaunted a garish purple and gold striped suit and he began to speak as loudly as ever as I quickly wiped my chin.

“Good morning!” My head hit the table.

“Goodness Y/N, did you not get enough sleep last night?” He asked, looking at me with slight concern.

“I'm fine thank you for asking,” I answered, “Just woke up a bit too early.” I rubbed my head, smiling sheepishly and his gaze softened.

“That simply won't do!” He exclaimed, “We need you to be on top form for when you’re in the arena.”

“Lysander.” I called out softly, interrupting what was sure to be a long tirade. “I… I just wanted to say that I’m sorry for my outburst yesterday. I don't know what I was thinking. I suppose, well I suppose I was just a little overwhelmed by all this. I hope you can forgive me. “ I twisted a strand of my hair in my fingers and he took the bait immediately. I could almost see what he was thinking. Such a kind girl, she must be terrified, very sweet of her to apologise. His eyes gained a look of sympathy as he raised a hand to his heart and walked over to me.

“It's quite alright dear, no need for apologies. I completely understand you must be feeling absolutely terrified of all this. You did such a kind thing volunteering for Miss Cresta, so selfless, dear and I’m sure she appreciates it very much.” I nodded, going back to my food, and he clapped. “Now that's all sorted out, we need a plan for you.” He looked me up and down, assessing me as Mags grinned into her bowl at the look on my face. “I'm thinking we play the innocent card, the fact you were so young when you won will help with that a lot. You are one of the youngest in the games this year after all. We simply must also use the fact that you are a true performer and ballet is such a beautiful art form indeed so,” he turned to Mags, “I propose we paint her as an angel.”

I choked on a piece of watermelon, the apprehension on my face giving way to horror. Mags patted me gently on the back and I straightened in my seat, sending a grateful smile her way as Lysander continued, lost in his own world.

“Of course only your stylist can decide this but I’m fairly certain I can put in a word and if they didn't already have the same idea after watching the reaping then I'll eat my hat.” I eyed the purple monstrosity on his head and imagined it being stuffed into his mouth, wondering if maybe that would be the thing that would finally shut him up. I wanted to scream at him, tell him that I was no angel and he was a monster for finding some kind of pleasure in this, deciding what part I should play as I die. Instead I just smiled slightly and lowered my head to stop him from seeing the tears in my eyes. At that second Finnick walked in and Lysander's attention was immediately drawn to him. I sat silently as he practically interrogated him, asking how he was feeling, if he thought he could win. The answers were short, not letting anything interesting slip but giving enough to satisfy Lysander and fool him into thinking he was basically his new best friend. I zoned out part way through Lysanders rant about what the Gamemakers would throw at us this year- as if we hadn't all been thinking about it since they were announced. Suddenly, I was brought back to reality by the sound of my name.

“Y/N, Y/N.” I blinked and my gaze shifted to Lysander.

“Sorry.” I muttered

“Quite alright dear, you must be tired if you didn't get enough sleep. We're going to watch the games you were both in, for reference.” My mind didn't register the words and I simply nodded before I realised what he had said and my eyes widened in shock.

We watched Finnicks first, since he won before me. From the reaping all the way through to the crowning ceremony. He was confident in the interviews, dressed in the most impeccable suit and tie, clearly designed to show off his beauty, laughing at Caesar Flickerman's comments and responding with his own witty quips, not just a pretty face at all. Then utterly deadly in the arena. For the first few days he had lain low, not much excitement but enough to keep sponsors interested. Then he got the trident, the most expensive gift ever seen, and it was over. District 4 was fishing after all, and it seemed Finnick Odair was born to wield the trident. He captured tribute after tribute in a net and killed them all, offering no mercy. And finally the last cannon went off announcing him the winner. Fourteen years old and he had won, the youngest victor, the most handsome victor, the Capitol darling. Finnick Odair. If he was that good back then, I had no doubt he would be extraordinary now. He had it all as well, the looks which first made the Capitol love him, he was intelligent, and undoubtedly one of the best fighters that would be going into the arena. Mags and I sat there speechless as Lysander congratulated Finnick endlessly.

“And how you used that trident, extraordinary! I don't believe you'll struggle in these games now that you've had ten years to practise.” I could only think of how young he'd been, how he'd been forced to grow up so quickly after, how he'd won- but what was the cost?

Then my games were switched on; I saw myself going through it all over again. The walk up to the stage after my name was called, all eyes on me. The chariot ride where they had dressed me up as a mermaid, all shimmering fabrics and a golden crown. The interview, where Caesar asked me questions about my life back home and I answered quietly, barely audible, playing the sweet little girl as I danced for them momentarily. The arena, my frightened face as the boy from 10 died in front of me, running and hiding. Then a cut to as I made my first kills, I saw the light leave their eyes as the blood left their bodies. Another cut, to the chase and confrontation with Arion, the second the knife left my hand I closed my eyes and the thud as it hit him echoed in my ears.

They showed the crowning ceremony last, I stood calmly on the dais with my hands clasped in front of my body. I had been made to wear a white dress that fell to my knees and had a red bow tied around it. The same red adorned the pins in my hair, shaped like roses, and the single gem hanging from a silver chain around my neck. The significance was not lost on me, young as I was. I had killed three people in the arena so I wore three pieces of red. One for each of them, the crimson colour their blood on my hands. President Snow walked up slowly and placed the golden laurels on my head. He looked down at me, a small smile on his face as I gazed up at him, he whispered something that only I could hear. Words that left me pale and confused, words that could have been good but in the circumstances only sounded like the promise of a life of pain. His mouth moved on the screen and I read his lips.

“The Capitol will love you.” He stepped away and proclaimed me their victor. And it struck me how I looked so tiny compared to him and everyone around me, as the Capitol roared with applause and my big eyes stared out over them, disbelieving and uncertain before the tape ended leaving the compartment in silence.

I shoved my seat back, the legs screeching on the floor, and stood up quickly. Everyone turned to face me as I stayed still for a second.

“Y/N.” Lysander began but I cut him off.

“No, I just, I need to, I can't.” My brain was jumbled, old memories being dragged to the surface unwillingly. So I turned and I ran.

I sprinted along the train, pushing doors open as I ran through the compartments. Avoxes jumped out of my way as I barreled past them, looking at me in curiosity. I came to the end of the train and held my hands in front of me to push through the doors. I crashed through them and fell into the railing. I gripped onto the cold metal as if it was the only thing keeping me in reality, the wind rushed past me and my hair floated in front of me, strands whipping in the cold air. I could barely see, tears blurring my vision and hair covering my face. I took a shuddering breath, letting the cold air flood my lungs, and I broke. I cried and cried and cried. Letting out everything that I had kept bottled up for seven years. I had cried before, that day on the cliffs, that was for the games, for the fact that it was happening all over again for so many people across Panem. But this. This was for me. For every pain I had endured since I won, the evenings spent dancing and singing under lights focused solely on me, the fear of making a mistake stopping me from enjoying it fully, the nights spent alone, unable to sleep because of the nightmares, the days spent wandering around like a lost soul, wondering if it would ever be better than what it was.

So I cried for myself, in one selfish moment I allowed myself to only care about myself. Tears dripped down my face, droplets falling on the railing for what felt like forever. Eventually my throat grew raw and my eyes seemed to run out of tears to cry. I dropped my head forwards into my hands and my eyes glazed over with the memories I had suppressed.

I was no longer on the train headed to the Capitol. I was in the arena. Perched on an icy tree branch, pressed against the tree trunk to keep from slipping off. Hidden by the frozen leaves in the white fluffy clothing they had given us to wear. A tribute ran underneath my hiding spot, running away from something, two others followed chasing him. I immediately recognised them as career tributes, this was all just a game of cat and mouse to them. And they caught him. I shoved a piece of cloth in my mouth to stop myself from letting out any noise that would give myself away and clapped my hands over my ears to block out the noise of his screaming in pain and crying out for help from someone as they ripped into him, their laughter echoing in the otherwise silent forest. A warning that they were on the hunt and if you valued your life you would get out of there as soon as possible.

I had stayed in that tree for the first few days until I was eventually forced to move when the gamemakers released mutts into the arena. Great big slobbering beasts that lumbered along harmlessly until someone tried to kill one. Then all hell had broken loose as they chased tributes up trees and then hurled themselves unrelentingly at them, bringing them down and mauling them beyond recognition. They brought about the deaths of five tributes before they just disappeared, presumably called back out after doing their job.

I snapped out of my daze as I felt someone standing next to me. My gaze cleared as I pushed the memories back into a locked box in my mind. I didn’t need to look to know who it was, the mark on my wrist burning and on instinct I pulled my sleeve down and took a small step to the side to lessen the sting. It eased immediately from the small distance between us and faded to a dull throbbing. Finnick said nothing at my movement and we just looked out over the passing countryside, rolling green fields, trees that touched the sky and vast lakes stretching beyond the horizon. We stayed like that, peaceful, just taking it all in until he finally broke the silence.

“You were so young.”

I smiled bitterly, resting my chin on my open palm propped up on the railing.

“We all were but we had no choice. They just want to watch their games. And they don’t care if innocent children die so they can have them.” I laughed slightly. “Then they get the one that lives.” I shook my head, my fingers tightening on the rail, the cold metal biting into my skin. “They get to kill us then they get to keep us.” I turned around, leaning backwards onto the railing and looked up, watching the clouds move slowly away in the blue sea of the sky. Then the Capitol came into view, towering buildings taking up the skyline, marring it with grey,

“I'm going to go back in,” Finnick said, following my line of vision, “You should as well.” With that he stepped back into the train, not sparing a second glance as I watched him walk through a set of doors and out of sight. I relaxed as he left and stayed in my position, head tilted skywards, eyes closed until I felt tiny drops of water on my face. I opened my eyes to see rain falling, a light drizzle but enough to dampen my clothes and hair, I laughed slightly and walked inside, the warmth hitting me in a blast. I hadn't realised how cold I'd been before but the heat warmed me and my clothes quickly dried off. I looked over my shoulder as I walked through the doors that slid open, the rain pattering on the windows lightly, a last glimpse of normality.

I quickly made my way through the train, hearing Lysander screeching at unfortunate avoxes to find me as if I was missing and he had no idea where to find me. I stepped into the compartment to see him looking frazzled, he immediately caught sight of me standing unsurely at the edge of the room and gave a dramatic sigh of relief.

“Not to worry everyone she's here.” The train jolted to a stop. “We have arrived.” Lysander practically squealed and eyed me.” Dear, you should just fluff out your hair a bit, and try to look happy for the cameras.” I nod my head once and plaster a smile on my face. He nodded in approval.

We made our way to the doors. Finnick and I stood either side of Lysander and Mags was just behind us. I can see people through the windows already, screaming and shouting with excitement.

“Now everyone, remember this is the first time they will see you so make sure to leave a good impression. That means smile and wave, blow a few kisses if you have to.” Lysander told us, focusing his words mostly on me. A bell rang and he quickly turned around to me, perfecting everything he could see wrong, the tiniest hair out of place, my sleeves at different lengths and pushing my cheeks into a smile. Facing forward just in time as the doors slid open and we stepped out into the masses.

Taglist:

@nekee-lilac02 @hinata7346 @bambikitten @the-lonely-abyss @mxacegrey @m-maxie-ie @not-aya @camatchoum @maw1dk @avoxrising @meri-soni-meri-tamanna @somdreamy @thehairington86 @millzluvrs @val-writesstuff @erindiggory @reader-bookling123 @elisa20beth @maxinehufflepuffprincess @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @mystargirl-interlude @ponkaniee @missunicorn @purplelavin @user123453226780536 @littleanubis21

[datesinredink]

Heyyy so maybe I'm insane but. Do NOT Take This Cat Home (which I'll shorten to Dnttch) yandere rottmnt au. Hmmm. I havent slept in 24 hours so I don't know how you would meet them but I do know that it would be very fun to think about how the weird eldritch horror/"OH NO THEY EAT PEOPLE" part would come into play.

Oh wait actually IDEA you could start off meeting one of the turtles (probably Mikey, he'd be most likely to stick around instead of eating you and convince you to take him home because he's so lost and hungry in this new place, couldn't you pleeaaase take pity on this poor turtle?) and then over time, since we know in the Dnttch universe, the cat multiplies in at least two ways (I, in fact have not seen all the endings yet), so the first turtle could gather the other three over time. One could be from a plushie in the pet shop or won at the carnival (prob Raph), the second could be from the movie theater (Leo, I think the hypnosis is weirdly fitting for him), and the final one... Wait. I'm not sure. THERES A LITTLE LIVE PETS TURTLE???? YEAH OK THATS FUNNY I'LL PUT IT IN.

Buuuuuuttttt after the four are all gathered and living in your house (despite your insistence that you couldn't possibly afford to support them. luckily, despite occasionally waking up and seeing one of them in the corner of your room drooling, they've never shown any need to eat) they've gotten a bit attached. They saw you as a possible meal, at first, then a convenient hiding place, but they seem to have found themselves getting attached. They decide that since you've helped them soo much, that they should at least return the favor before they decide to eat you(something you're frighteningly aware they've almost done- the still healing scar from the last time the red one visited your room) or leave.

Now, you feel constant eyes staring holes into your back, and your rude coworkers now either show up on the news with their bones picked almost clean or don't turn up at all. Now, sometimes they'll bring back one of their kills to share with you (after all, aren't you hungry? They've seen you eat, but surely it isn't filling enough to really sustain you- to them, that's why you seem so tired all the time). Since you always turn them down, maybe instead they'll just have you help them store the leftovers!

Raph, as they've taken to calling the biggest of them, eats more frequently than the others to sustain his growth, so there can sometimes be extras that the other three don't particularly want at the time. He even goes out of his way to help you with tearing and cutting apart the meat! It's almost sweet, if only for the weight of what exactly you're putting in Tupperware right now.

Leo gets more aggressive about your attention now, always begging you to play games or watch TV with him. Sometimes he's even fine with just reading comics in the same place, as long as he gets to hold onto you in some way. It's annoying at best in the morning when you have to go to work, but downright terrifying when his marks flare up late at night after you've just insisted for the 10th time that you're tired and don't want to deal with him. Usually, the threat of flickering blue light vaguely forming some kind of sword is enough to convince you otherwise.

Mikey tries his best to help you adjust to your new roommates! He knows how stressed out you are about work, you should tell him about it! He'll even take notes about how they can all brighten your day, so feel free to speak your mind about that horrible lady who yelled at you today. Was she your boss? A coworker? Maybe a customer who asked for the manager? He'll give you a warm hug and reassure you that everything will be ok, and that maybe you should teach him a new recipe from granny's cookbook tonight to take your mind off things! The scene you wake up to the next morning is Mikey humming to himself while the girl's flesh sizzles in the pan you let him borrow last night, Raph drooling over said slab of meat, as well as Donnie and Leo playing the most intense game of rock paper scissors (a game they're glad you taught them- how else would they make decisions) to decide who gets the first plate of food.

Donnie's always useful to have around, his fascination with human technology quickly being honed into electronic mastery. Despite his more reclusive nature, he's still gotten you out of many a pinch with malfunctioning devices, like when you sorrowfully cradled your old toaster in your arms on your way to trash it, only for him to take it from you and return it a couple days later fixed up like new. You appreciate his contributions, and though you're the beta tester for a multitude of his dangerous inventions, with the amount he does for you, it's hard to not feel like you owe him, especially when he himself openly agrees with that point. You just wish he'd give you a break from the explosions...

[aboutkiyoomi]

003. bittersweet chocolate chunk | onigiri cravings

cw: cursing, angst............and slow burn sooo yasss.

"i'll be here for the next couple of months," he says, leaning against the counter slab. his apron is a mess, covered in various substances, and his hat is thrown to the side as he runs his fingers through his hair.

"why?" semi asks, appearing from the kitchen.

"bet it's 'cause of y/n," suga whispers, very obviously, into iwa's ear, causing osamu to clear his throat loudly.

"we're gonna be undergoing some slight renovations, and i need to meet with some contractors. plus, i have new recipes to release," he states, eyes shooting a look at suga. "speaking of y/n, where is she?" samu asks, glancing around hopefully.

"she's gonna be a little late. said she'd explain when she gets here," suga starts, shrugging his shoulders. but the worried look on his face transfers to osamu, who hums quietly.

meanwhile, in your studio apartment, you wonder when it all got this way. when did akaashi become so overly consumed with school and so inconsiderate of his relationship? it all boiled down to this moment. you expected it, but not like this, not this torturous.

the arguments continued after he stormed out, but the apologies became less and less frequent between the two of you. the house was ghostly, with nothing but short screaming matches followed by the slamming of doors. you found out that when he leaves, he stays with bokuto.

"i'm not arguing with you today," akaashi states, pushing past you into the study.

"akaashi, what are we even doing?" you huff, eyes tired as you watch him pause in the doorway.

"i…" he pauses, taking a deep breath before pinching his temples. "i don't fucking know, y/n. this isn't us," he starts, turning around to face you.

"no shit," you reply plainly.

"i think we should break up," he says, his mouth straightening into a thin line. but your reaction isn't sad in the moment; you won't give him that satisfaction. you scoff and cross your arms over your chest.

"you know, i had a feeling this was coming, but i thought you were too scared to do it. you grew a pair, keiji," you say bitterly, as you begin grabbing your stuff. his mouth opens, but he shuts it promptly.

"and i'll move out. i'll find a place and stay at suga's until then. you pay most of the rent anyway," you say plainly, willing yourself not to cry, to be strong.

"y/n… you don't have to—" he starts, but you immediately cut him off.

"keiji, i do. we were in love for a long time, but there's something you love more than me, and that's okay. it takes time, energy, and patience to become a doctor—something i don't have," you laugh harshly, your eyes clouding slightly as you remember words from a past argument. "this was a long time coming. we need space to process this, so don't worry about it." you finish, stepping into the genkan and silently sliding on your shoes. you leave akaashi there, standing in the middle of your apartment, eyes glazed and dazed.

you walk to work, willing yourself not to cry. if anything, this gives you a chance to study more for your upcoming nclex exam and work more hours. you will try your hardest not to let akaashi keiji break you.

as you walk into work, you're met with the face you've grown to find safe, and somehow, your eyes immediately begin to water. suga knowingly opens his arms while semi opens the door to the back of the house.

"oh, baby," suga mutters as tears pour from your eyes, and you all but fall into his arms.

"it's over," you mutter repeatedly into the fabric of suga's dark 'onigiri miya' shirt.

osamu's eyes flicker up from his office, catching sight of suga walking you to the break room, streaky tears staining your beautiful face. osamu immediately makes a beeline for you, but iwaizumi stops him.

"she'll be okay, but right now she's going through something. it's not my place to explain, but just… give her a moment," iwa says, placing a firm hand on osamu's shoulder. yet osamu's eyes drill into the window of the break room. you are seated on the bench, your head buried in suga's shoulder while he pats your back and nods. iwa squeezes his shoulder reassuringly before guiding him back towards his office.

the tears eventually subside, and you explain the situation, albeit briefly. suga is understanding, immediately offering to help you move your stuff into his house for the time being. you explain it would truly only be for a short time and that you would do anything for him in the meantime, ranging from housework to picking up his shifts.

if there's anything you hate, it's feeling like you're burdening people.

you head into the employee bathroom and wash your face. your eyes are slightly red and puffier than usual. you sigh deeply and take a second to breathe before making a resolve in your mind.

three years is a long time, and the two of you have grown apart. it was excruciatingly obvious, yet no one wanted to acknowledge it, causing this pain. there's no time to be upset over this—it was coming, and you expected it. so, you would allow these feelings to pass and focus on what was important: your upcoming nclex exam and saving money. that was it; you would simply focus extra hard for now.

as you walk out of the bathroom and push out into the kitchen, your eyes catch on osamu, who is wrist-deep in a bowl of pre-cooked rice. his eyes immediately meet yours, catching you off guard.

"you missed the big announcement," samu starts, his lips twitching up playfully but carefully not to offend or hurt you any further. "i'll be staying here at this location for a bit," he finishes, smiling clearly from under the brim of his onigiri miya cap.

"ah… i see," you smile, your eyes still dull and puffy. you push out into the front of the house, ready to work and fueled with a renewed sense of energy.

a/n: dang rip akaashiyn, you will be rejuvenated in another series. AYEEEE bring on the slow burn with samu. i might double update, keep ya eyes out. this chapter is kinda..i promise the development is worth it.

taglist (open): @wyrcan @nightlybakes @anyalou @boogiemansbitch @peppersapro @wave2mia @applepi25

[forestshadow-wolf]

The 141 have to go to some ceremony or like an international meeting that involves the 141 or something. So they're all in their dressing blues or whatever.

And the place gets attacked. It's an explosion that throws them all off their feet.

When soap comes too, after what couldn't have been more than a few seconds, his ears are ringing, the world seems like it's moving too fast and too slow at the same time.

He feels himself cough, as he looks around. Things are on fire. He has to check if he's hurt, he knows he does, his hands pat around his torso. Nothing that could be considered pain flared at him as sounds start to return to him.

He looks down at himself, he's dusty and dirty. Ghost is crouching in front of him, saying something, he's just as dusty, the half balaclava looks more white than it does black now.

He feels his voice more than he hears it when he yells "What?", his ears still trying to clear the ringing from his head. Ghost just yanks him up by the lapels, that seems to shake the shock out of him.

Everything floods back to him like a tsunami, then he's up and moving. Shouting orders he can barely hear, hauling officers up off the ground, trying to spot price and gaz.

He's ushering people away from the blast site when he finally spots price, helping a woman out the door and handing her off to someone else.

It's when he's almost reached Price does he start to hear gunfire in the not distance. That is not good.

He finally reaches price, Ghost by his side, having obviously had the same thought as him.

"Where's Gaz?"

Price and Ghost look around, at the very obvious lack of the man. The gunfire is getting closer now.

"You mean you haven't seen him?", Both he and Ghost give a negatatory. "Shit- shit shit shit. Alright Gaz is second priority. Staying alive is first. Got it?"

"Yes sir."

A second explosion rocks the building and one of the inner walls crumbles. SHIT. That is very not good, he thinks as the three of them duck behind a pile of rubble as lead flies into the room.

A hand automatically reaches for the sidearm that's not there. Damn these formal events. Damn them to hell. Old fashioned way it is then. At least most of the people here are trained for combat...

It's hard to say what happened between the three of them slitting up, and when ghost tackles him behind a slab of concrete just before a bullet whizzes past them.

"Solid?"

Price snaps his neck from behind, didn't even see it coming.

"Yeah"

"Anyone found gaz yet?" Price asked

"No sir. Not yet-" another explosion rocks the building and he thinks he can hear something in the walls straining to stay up. It must've been a pre-set charge because they don't hear anything other than more should as more of the building comes down. "Cap. These walls won't hold much longer, we have'ta get these people out. Now." He watches more of the wall buckle and a piece of the ceiling fell.

"You and Ghost get them out, I'll find gaz." The captain growls. They nod an affirmative.

They're rushing the last person out when price finds them, Gaz hauled over his shoulder. He can hear the walls groaning now. They have about no time at all, so he rushes price and gaz out first, then ghost. It's not a moment after he's following that he hears the structure supports coming down, and it'll take seconds for the rest to follow.

It's pure luck, and maybe a tiny bit of skill that has him literally barrelig ghost out as the entire thing collapses.

He lays on the ground panting. Ghost is groaning beside him.

"Okay. It's official. I hate these stupid ceremonies." Ghost laughs beside him.

When he pushes himself up he can see price crouched next to Gaz, everyone else is milling about, thankfully he sees no other threats.

It takes an hour to get contacts oht for air support. But they do get it eventually.

------

The debrief was a shitshow. As predicted. They still don't know the purpose of the attack, best guess was that it's might have been a distraction, but no other base was attacked, and they can't find any missing data or servers. Everyone is on high alert about the situation.

[candycandy00]

Roses in the Sky - An Original Alien x Reader Story Part 9

In a future where humanity huddles in decaying domed cities controlled by alien invaders, you and your best friend Anna work as make-shift nurses in a tiny clinic run by the young doctor Terrian. The city is ruled by the aliens' violent, half-breed offspring who serve as brutal overseers. You and Anna have always tried to avoid these overseers at all cost, but your life is changed when one of those same terrifying offspring is brought into the clinic, injured and unconscious.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10

This is an original Alien (well half alien) x Fem Reader story! I hope everyone who enjoys my fanfiction will give this a shot! I’m posting the first chapter just to check for interest. Any feedback whatsoever would be loved! I’ve already written this story so it’s not going to delay my fanfics. Just thought I might post chapters of this between fanfics if anyone is interested.

Slow burn, as this is a novel-length story, but there will be smut in later chapters! Also: violence, blood, rape attempts, death of side characters, etc.

Work at Terrian's house the next day was awkward and slow. Anna was obviously still upset over Nariah, and Terrian flitted around nervously, making pathetic and desperate attempts to get Anna to talk to him.

"Look, girls! I'm breaking out the steak reserves for lunch today!" he called at one point, holding up two large slabs of frozen meat.

Steak was Anna's favorite. She had looked up then, apparently tempted to say something, but she held her tongue and continued dusting.

You waited until Terrian stepped out of the room, then turned to Anna. "How long are you going to keep this up? He already apologized."

Anna looked down. "I know. I'm not really angry at him anymore. I just don't know what to say to him. Yesterday I admitted for the first time that I'm in love with him. Now I feel insecure around him."

"Well you're not making any progress like this. Just act like you did before. He's worried sick right now."

"Are you making progress with Vartan?" Anna asked suddenly.

You were caught off guard by the question. You stumbled over your words for a moment before nearly choking out a quiet, "Sort of."

Anna grinned. "Oh really? Are you sleeping with him already?"

"Of course not! I made him a bologna sandwich, okay?"

"Whatever you say," Anna laughed, nudging you with her elbow.

Terrian's doorbell rang loudly through the hall. You laid down your dusting rag and stood up, straightening the too-short skirt of your maid uniform and making your way to the door. You sighed as you pulled it open. "Yes, can I help-“

You were immediately silenced when you realized the person standing on Terrian's doorstep was a male half-breed with silver chin-length hair that framed his pale face. His narrow eyes were ice-blue and a strange shade of violet that you had never seen before, not even on a half-breed.

"A doctor lives here, correct?" His voice was lighter than Vartan's.

You weren’t sure how to answer. What if Terrian had gotten into trouble somehow? Perhaps confirming his location wasn't a good idea. "Um... I..."

The half-breed leaned in close. "This is important. Tell the doctor to come and examine my..." He stopped there, as if he had no idea how to finish the statement. He glanced back, and you noticed the thin young woman standing behind him. She was very clearly human, and her face, while pretty, was darkened by visible sadness.

"Is she sick?" you asked.

The half-breed took the woman's hand and gently, too gently for a half-breed, pulled her closer to the door. "She needs medical attention, yes."

You stepped aside. "Come on in. I'll get the doctor." You led them through the hall and to the living room, shrugging at a very shocked Anna on the way. The couple sat down on the couch as you ran to fetch Terrian.

You and Anna followed Terrian back into the living room and stood on either side of him. The woman introduced herself as Sophie. 

"I'm pregnant," she said, quietly but bluntly.

You stifled a gasp. Terrian's face lit up. "You are? That's amazing! Pregnancies are so rare. You must be immune to the chemicals in the water."

Sophie did not share his enthusiasm. "I didn't believe it at first. I missed a couple of periods and then a friend gave me an old pregnancy test to try. After that, I still didn't believe. Then Keon gave me a Pagoda test, and it came back positive. He says there's no way it can be wrong."

You noticed that Sophie seemed so sad. Her voice sounded as if it was threatening to break at any moment.

"So, do you want me to monitor the pregnancy then?" Terrian asked.

"No," the half-breed spoke up, "we want you to terminate it."

The smile Terrian had been wearing dissolved. "What?"

"You are capable of terminating the pregnancy, are you not?" the half-breed asked.

Terrian looked directly at Sophie. "Is this what you want to do?"

The half-breed opened his mouth, but Sophie put a hand on his arm. "Please, Keon," she said weakly, "let me talk to him. I'll explain."

The half-breed, Keon, looked at her with a flash of anger in his eyes.

Sophie didn't move her hand. "Please," she repeated, and Keon stood up. He walked out of the living room and closed the door behind him. You had never seen a half-breed do as a human asked before. Well, not besides Vartan.

"Keon is the father, as you've probably guessed," Sophie began, her voice still shaky. "We met three years ago. He showed up at my door one day out of the blue, with a proposition.”

“A proposition?” Anna asked. 

Sophie nodded. “Apparently some half breeds make arrangements with specific humans. They offer protection from the other half breeds, and in exchange the humans satisfy their needs. It’s a mutual arrangement, or at least ours is. I don’t know what would have happened if I’d refused. But I agreed to the terms, and I’ve been able to walk through the city without fear. They call it ‘claiming’. I’ve been claimed by Keon, so no other half breed will touch me.”

Your heart was beating fast as the words sank into your brain. Half-breeds could choose specific humans? Other half-breeds would stay away? Was that what Vartan had done to you?

"It's not so bad," Sophie continued. "Keon has always been relatively gentle with me. But now..." Her voice trailed off as she looked down at her own stomach.

"So he doesn't want his pet to have a baby?" Anna asked with a tinge of venom in her voice.

Sophie chuckled bitterly. "He was so furious and disgusted that I thought he would kill me."

Anna's face was turning red, her hatred for the half-breeds boiling beneath her skin.

"But he didn't kill me," Sophie went on, "Instead he started frantically asking around for a human doctor. One of the other half-breeds apparently told him about a clinic they had shut down, and that they had heard the doctor survived. That's when he told me I have to have an abortion."

"But why?" you asked.

Sophie met your eyes, and you could almost see the agony and rage festering there, held back by her quiet sorrow. "The half-breeds are forbidden to breed, at all. If the Pagoda were to find out I'm pregnant, they would execute Keon and myself immediately. The baby would die anyway. If we somehow managed to hide the pregnancy until the child was born, the Pagoda would give it a gruesome death if they ever found it. We would have to live in constant fear. Keon said that we should end it now, before..." Her voice finally broke, and tears streamed down her face. "Before we... grow to care for the child," she finished.

Terrian stood up. "Alright, I understand. I can examine you in one of the guest rooms and make preparations."

Sophie nodded. "Thank you, doctor. Please just give me a moment."

"Of course," Terrian told her. "My nurses will help you when you're ready."

He left the room. You and Anna began to follow him out, eager to give the woman privacy while she regained her composure. "It's not fair, is it?" she asked, and you stopped to look back at her. Sophie’s eyes were red from crying and her hands were shaking. "It's a miracle, that I'm immune to the chemicals, that I can give birth. It's my miracle but... I have to kill it." She buried her face in her hands and sobbed.

Keon, who had been waiting patiently in the hall, walked into the living room and sat down beside Sophie. He stared at her wordlessly, and you saw a faint hint of pain in his face. He looked as if he wanted to reach out to the trembling woman beside him, to comfort her, but his hands remained stiffly by his sides. You found it sad that he had been sleeping with the woman for three years, yet he had no idea how to hold her.

Terrian examined Sophie several minutes later, and afterward told her to come back in two days for the procedure to end the pregnancy. He had to gather up the tools and medicines needed to ensure her safety. The couple thanked him and left, leaving the rest of the day clear for you and Anna to finish your cleaning duties.

Two hours of mopping and dusting later, Anna disappeared. You searched the kitchen, hall, and three rooms before hearing voices coming from behind one of the bedroom doors on the second floor. You pressed your ear against the door and listened.

"I'm not angry with you," you heard Anna say. "It's not your fault that Terrian kept you a secret."

"But my presence bothers you," Nariah's lovely voice responded.

"Well, I'm still getting used to... your kind."

"Don't worry," Nariah said, "you're certainly not the first human to regard me with fear and unease." Anna said nothing in response, and after a brief pause, Nariah spoke again. "Did you know that half-breeds are not allowed to meet their human parents?"

Anna must have shaken her head, because Nariah went on. "Most often, the human parents are executed shortly after the birth of the half-breed. But sometimes, very rarely, the human is kept alive if the offspring is viewed as exceptional by the Pagoda, for further breeding. I do not understand what their standards are, or how they determine such things, but I was considered one of these 'exceptional offspring'. My human mother was kept alive for three years after she gave birth to me."

You could hear Anna's breath hitch as she gave a small gasp. "You met her, didn't you?"

"Yes," Nariah said softly, "I did. One of the other half-breeds told me where to find her, probably more out of malice than of kindness. I searched the Tower, my curiosity overpowering my sense of obedience to the Pagoda. We half-breeds were forbidden from visiting the breeding and containment rooms, you see. But I found her, huddled in a metal contraption that looked like a cage. She looked so much like me, I knew in an instant that she was indeed my mother."

There was another pause, then Anna finally asked, "What happened?"

"I approached the cage, my heart pounding, and looked her in the eyes. At that moment, I called her 'mother'. I don't know why. We were never taught to use such sentimental terms, and I had only heard the word on the lips of the humans in the city. Maybe it was some buried human instinct. Regardless, she had heard me, and she screamed in terror. She recoiled from me until her back hit the other side of the cage. I was... repulsive to her."

Tears formed in your eyes as you listened outside the door. Anna remained silent.

When Nariah continued, her beautiful voice was slightly darker. "My mother began shrieking, 'Get it away from me! Get that monster away!' and she wouldn't stop until a Pagoda, my father, appeared behind her with a blade in his hand. He reached in between the metal bars and slit her throat, silencing her. She died in the cage, still looking at me with horror in her eyes."

For several minutes, the room was quiet and you heard nothing. Then footsteps abruptly headed toward the door and it slid open. Anna walked out of the room, her face red and puffy. She had been crying. "Oh, hey," she said when she noticed the hall wasn't empty.

"Sorry, I listened in," you told her, wiping your own eyes.

"It's alright. How much did you hear?"

"The story about her mom. That was awful. How could someone be afraid of their own child? And Nariah was only three at the time, right? How could she be scary?"

"Oh, so you didn't hear about the age thing," Anna said.

"What age thing?"

Anna smiled, the redness in her face dissipating. "Nariah is only fourteen years old."

"No way!" you said, a little too loud. Nariah looked at least twenty.

"I'm serious. She said half-breeds age a lot quicker than humans until they reach maturity. Then the process slows down to a crawl. So when she was three, she might have looked ten."

"Whoa, that's crazy. I guess we were wrong about her relationship with Terrian then.”

Anna's smile grew broader. "Yeah, she didn't know how to describe it, because she doesn't have anything to compare it to, but I think he treats her like a sister from everything she told me."

You smiled too. "That's great, Anna!"

They finished the chores, both in a slightly better mood. Anna was on speaking terms with Terrian again, waving and saying goodbye as she left. He was so happy he nearly cried, and you laughed as you headed out the door.

When you reached the door of your apartment, you wondered whether Vartan would still be there. You kept reminding yourself that he could leave at any moment without warning. With more than a little apprehension, you stepped inside.

Clearly visible from the door, Vartan was lying across the couch, fast asleep. You took a blanket from a nearby chair and spread it over his body. You turned out the lamp on the table next to him and leaned down.

"Goodnight," you whispered, then smiled as you walked to your own room and went to bed.

Tag List:

@scrumptiouslampwobblercop

If you’d like to be tagged in future parts, let me know!

[yanderefarm]

I NEED. another part of that achilles x sadistic make reader thing PLEASEEEE

cw;; nsft language, misunderstandings, hurt/comfort, suffocation

ok i wanna write this idea i had so im putting it here bc im attaching the actual part 2 to another ask.

this was supposed to be filthy femboy achilles sending you sexy videos. it got away from me bad.

your lovely partner is a hard worker even with his proclivity for perversion he very rarely ignores work to get off. usually you two maintain a healthy balance, work and play and on weekends you get him for the more extreme play, but he's out of town. his father needed him to go take care of somethings in another city a plane ride away leaving you without your lovely boyfriend's company for the time being.

the first few days coming home without him being there was strange. it was strange to not have him on his knees at your feet, or curled up in your arms, or tied to your metal slab. you hadn't even realized how much your life had become entangled with his until he was gone. you still texted him every day but you were really starting to get lonely. i mean... his texts leave something to be desired.

'good morning.'

'good night'

'i had an avocado and banana smoothie for breakfast.'

'im working'

'please don't call me at this time.'

it's bad enough that in person he looks like a lifeless robot sometimes, why does he text like one too? you could get more emotion from an alexa. you've been trying to be understanding because you know he's just that kind of person but it didn't help your loneliness. you were trying to call him at night before he went to bed just to hear his voice.

'please don't call me at this time.'

that message was really starting to piss you off. you couldn't be nice anymore.

'answer your fucking phone or im going to bleed you.'

it took a few minutes, about 10 to be exact, for your phone to ring. you immediately picked it up about to scold him for his lack of communication when you heard his harsh breathing on the other side. you could recognize it as how he usually sounded after something intense.

"chilles? are you ok?" your brow furrowed in worry.

"m okay" his words slurred slightly which usually meant he was fucked out.

"... you wanna try again? maybe this time tell me what bitch you're fucking?" your eye twitched in anger.

"m not-"

"im not stupid. you've been barely talking to me this whole week, you won't answer my calls, and now you sound like you just got your ass pounded. so you wanna try again? one more chance before i start sharpening my knife."

you heard him struggle to take a breath before finally letting out a pathetic little whimper. "m sorry, sir."

you let out a heavy sigh and ran a hand through your hair, gripping a handful of it as your anger became overwhelming. here you were being lonely and worried and missing him! and this stupid whore was out in another city running around with some bitch.

".... so. is this another attempt to get your throat slit or do you just.. not... care?" fuck you hated how your voice started to crack at the end.

"i.. i would gladly accept your punishment. i tried to resist for as long as I could."

"you fuckin-! yeah! you poor thing must have been so fucking hard for you to resist that!" you were messing up your hair as you rubbed at your head like you were trying to scrub him from your mind.

"im sorry sir. i know im a disappointment."

"disappointment?! that doesn't even begin to describe it!"

"im... im sorry... i didn't realize you would be so angry." you heard him make a hesitant sound before he spoke again. "we'll be here another week and I'll try to behave until we return."

you dropped your hand from your hair instead rubbing the bridge of your nose. tears were starting to gather in your eyes.

"don't bother coming back here. next time i see you you'd be lucky if i don't actually kill you."

you heard a strangled noise on the other side of the phone.

"no... please please, i know im bad. im the trash beneath your shoes. im disgusting and vile. but please please please" you could hear his voice cracking as he started to quietly cry.

you hated how it pulled at your heart.

"you should have thought about that before you 'couldn't resist'." you heard your own voice sounding rough and raw.

"i... i didn't think a toy would make you this angry i-"

"a what."

"a -a toy? the-the toy i bought..."

".... im gonna fucking murder you. you bought a sex toy??"

"yes-! im sorry. im sorry i knew i shouldn't have. i should have just waited. im sorry."

"you..." you couldn't help but laugh as tears fell down your cheeks. "fuck you're stupid."

"im sorry i know. im sorry."

"shut up. jesus... i thought you were cheating on me moron."

"i would never?? i-??" he sounded so genuinely confused.

"you've been avoiding me all week, chilles. you won't take my calls, you text me like a robot, and when I finally hear your voice you're all... horny."

"ive been very busy... every night ive had to go to different nightclubs for meetings... you always manage to call when im trying to be intimidating and I know i wouldn't be able to compose myself if I heard your voice."

"and tonight? you did it again."

"i... i should have answered but i knew i was misbehaving. .....and it would have been hard to speak."

"what were you doing? don't spare the details. i don't want room for more misunderstanding."

you heard him swallow hard.

"i bought the largest... silicone penis... they had at the store. i used some spare rope to tie a noose to the closet and then i put a chair with the toy in it underneath the noose. you called right when i started..."

"you're such a freak. jesus..." you wiped the last of the tears from your face. you let out a sigh of relief and relaxed into the couch. "you shoulda just answered i would have talked you through it."

"i was embarrassed and ashamed of myself... i knew you would be angry"

"yeah i think being convinced you were cheating on me is much better."

"i would never cheat on you. you're the only thing that holds meaning to me. you are my god, i only continue to exist by your will."

"there you go saying weird shit again."

"i mean it... my whole being is only for you. you're not my soulmate you're the owner of my soul. i wish you would carve me open and live inside my skin only then would i be close enough to you." you heard him whine softly.

"freak. ...i miss you. so much. i guess it's getting to my head not being able to hear you say your weird shit and worship me every day."

"i miss you so deeply... i feel empty and purposeless without you. even sexual gratification was empty..."

"did you finish?"

"yes... im.. im still sitting on it. i just removed the noose so i could talk to you."

"perv. c'mon baby boy drag yourself off that thing. it's bath time."

you heard him shift slightly most likely shivering.

"will you... guide me through bath time?"

"yeah. it'll help me relax too."

"thank you, sir. i love you."

you let out another sigh. you could feel your heart swell at his words spoken so softly with only the slightest of warmth. it was like you were freezing because his slight warmth seeped into your heart and spread through every inch of your body.

"i love you too."

BONUS;;

achilles: i don't really sound like a robot do i?

sadist darling: sorry babe. you're super roboty.

achilles: ive been trying to be sweet and text you everyday....

sadist darling: .... just add 1 emoji babe. it'll do you wonders.

achilles: like this..? ⛓️ good morning ⛓️

sadist darling: .because you're chained to me? is that right?

achilles: yes. 🧎

sadist darling: i take it back no more emojis.