#Like I had my ribcage filled with water idk

[jacksintention]

From time to time I think on the fact Jack kissed Alice's hand in veneration because it was the body Lacie left behind, but wouldn't dare nor want to touch Lacie herself for the same reason he kissed that hand, and it makes me want to set myself on fire

[thesleepy1]

Held Tightly, The Fire Burns

A/N: @eddyofthetruth requested this fic ages ago. I’m sorry it took so long to get out. I hope this fic brightens your day. :) As for the fic, I try not to have gendered descriptions when writing but it's a little harder to avoid in these situations. Just assume that the reader is intersex and has all the parts. 

Pairings: Eskel x Reader 

Summary: You were not nervous. It wasn’t like it was your first time or anything. You knew that Eskel had more experience than you but he wasn’t going to make fun of you…right? You don’t know what you’re doing. Why did you even agree to this? (Cause you love him and have been thinking about him shirtless since you first met him.) It’s fine. Everything is fine. You won’t fuck up and ruin everything. 

Or, “idk if you do anything nsfw so feel free to ignore but if you do!! would you consider writing something eskel x reader (either netflix or book i love them both) where its the reader's first time? idk i just feel like he'd be so kind and patient (//ω//) have a nice day! <3

Word count: 1,634

Warnings: NSFW, oral sex, marking, begging, dirty talk, praise kink, slight pain kink, 

Eskel sat with you in the library. A fire was crackling in the fireplace. The cracks and sizzles of the damp wood filled the large room with noise. The smell of dry, old books and burning pine relaxed you further in your seat. You could feel it in your bones, the deep seated sense that everything was as it was supposed to be. 

That thought did nothing to quell the fluttering of your heart. 

You had talked about this for days. Eskel did not want to force you into anything you weren’t ready for. He was patient. More patient than you probably deserved, going back and forth on the decision. You just didn’t want to mess things up. Traveling with Eskel was the best part of your life and ruining that would absolutely destroy you. 

“Are you sure?” Eskel asked for the utmost time. It was private in the library. At first you had suggested that your first time should be in a bedroom but when you and Eskel actually went to try, the anticipation was scarier than anything. The library was the next choice. It was intimate without having any other connotations. For all the others in the keep knew, you and Eskel were simply reading by the fireplace. No one batted an eye at the extra furs Eskel had laid on the floor or the pitcher of water he had brought along with you. 

Though the other witchers were sharp. They likely knew what the two of you were planning. They were just kind enough to leave you alone. 

“I’m fine, Eskel.” You assured him with a hand on his bicep. Heat was already coating the apples of your cheeks. Even now you could not blame the fire for it. This close to Eskel, you could see all the curves of his face. He looked as though he had been carved from marble and polished by a gentle river. Your hand went to cup his jaw, thumb stroking the stubble there. “It's unfair how you look so good. How could anyone even attempt to compete with you?” 

Eskel’s hand went over your own, pushing your palm to his lips. His face was marred but his kisses were feather-like brushes of the skin. “And yet you have my eyes every moment of the day.” His mouth moved down your hand, your wrist, your arm. When he reached your collar bone you felt the faint press of his teeth. “Is this alright?” he whispered into your skin. 

You let out a simple whimper in affirmation and another when his teeth pulled at the skin. His mouth sucked markings onto you. His hands were all over you, on your hips, your waist, and up higher. You were helping him remove your tunic before you even realized that he was slowly lowering you onto your back. 

Eskel moved down your chest like a man starved. You could hear your heart beat out of your ribcage. You knew he could hear it as well. It seemed to spur him on, the way your heart skipped when he bruised the skin on your chest. His mouth made you desperate, writhing on the furs beneath you. Your hands couldn’t get enough of him, fingers in his hair and nails digging into his back. When the texture of fabric under your palm got too much to handle, you pushed at his shirt until he got the clue and removed it. 

The two of you were in nothing but your trousers now. The tent between his thighs and the press of the engorged flesh against you had heat swirling in the pit of your stomach. “Could I—” Eskel was panting too hard to get the words out. His hand tugged at the hem of your trousers instead. 

“Please, I need to feel you as well,” You begged him, pulling him in for a kiss. “I need them off.” 

Eskel could not deny you anything if he tried. He was an ever devoted servant, quickly tugging down your trousers and smalls before doing the same to himself. His cock sprung free from its confides and you couldn’t help but gulp. He was large, cock thick, and curved slightly to the side. You had no idea how it was going to fit inside of you. 

Eskel must have seen the hesitation on your face because his soft tone before gentler, “We could stop now if you’d like. We don’t have to go farther.” There was a vein that ran the whole length of his cock and you would have given anything to feel it against your tongue at that moment. 

“Please Eskel, I want you so much it's killing me,” You whined, knowing the sound would only make him hasten. “I need you inside me.” You reached above you, blindly searching for the vial of oil you had stashed there earlier. 

Eskel guided your arms back down. “There’s no rush.” He lowered himself down your body before settling himself between your thighs. His hands were curious things that wanted to know everything there was to know about the flesh of your skin. His mouth was no different, pressing kisses to your inner thigh before taking pieces of you in. You knew that there would be marks there in the morning, perhaps even longer by the way he took his time to nuzzle against you. 

“Eskel, Eskel,” You gasped in between moans. He was so close to where you needed him yet so far. You could only take so much more of his teasing torture. “I need—I need you—” You were shamelessly desperate. 

The witcher met your eyes between your legs. He hummed in question from deep within his chest, head tilted in innocent acknowledgement. Eskel knew damn well what you wanted. He just wanted to hear you say it. You knew that if you did not tell Eskel what you wanted, what you truly desire, he would not touch you where you needed him to. 

It would drive you mad. 

“Eskel, please,” You began, head pressed back against the furs. “I need your mouth on me. I need to feel the press of your tongue against my skin.” 

Eskel had the nerve to chuckle at your wanton state. The witcher would be the end of you. 

Eskel grazed your opening with a brush of his finger. “Here?” He asked with false innocence dripping from his tongue. 

“Y-yes,” You could barely get the word out. “Right there, please.”

You had not noticed when he poured oil onto his fingers. He slid a finger into you easily, one of his was the size of two of your own. You could feel your walls stretch to slowly accommodate him. 

Eskel moved only when you gave him a nod of confirmation. He began at a leisurely pace, thrusting his finger in and out of your entrance. When your moans filled the library, he slid in a second. Soon, all you knew was Eskel and the burning heat in your stomach. Neither hurt you but you could not forget the ache and desire if you tried. 

“E-enough.” Your voice was quivering. Sweat was already dripping down your neck and Eskel hadn’t even properly entered you yet. You pulled at his arm, removing his fingers and tugging his body closer. “Please, Eskel. I’m ready.” 

Eskel chuckled from deep within his chest. He may have opened you with all the time in the world, but you could see the effect it had on him. His cock was a heated red, precum slicking the uncut tip. 

“Tell me if you need me to stop.” 

“I will,” You promised. “But really, darling. I want this.” 

Eskel took your face in his hand and kissed you. His tongue slipped into your mouth but before you could truly get lost in it, you felt his tip line your entrance. He had slicked his cock with the remaining oil but still you clenched your eyes at the feeling of him. Eskel was by no means a small man. 

You took him inch by blissful inch. When he had finally bottomed out, you had pulled him into a tight embrace. Your nails dug into his shoulders, crescent shaped indents where you could not contain yourself. 

“You’re so tight,” Eskel groaned, eyes shut tight. “Feels good,” he murmured into your ears.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, squeezing him as tightly as he was holding you. “You can move, darling.” You pressed kisses into his jaw. “Such a wonderful witcher. You make me feel so good.” 

Eskel smiled and began thrusting into you. Neither of you wanted it rough. There would be time for that. For now, you basked in each other’s presence whispering words of praise and encouragement. There would also be time to build up your stamina. You barely had time to warn Eskel about the coils under your skin coming undone. 

You drew blood from his shoulder when you came, back arched like a feline. It was a bliss you had never felt before. A feeling you had only read about in books. There was nothing compared to the real thing. 

It did not take long for Eskel to follow. Your walls tightened around him. He could only manage a couple more shallow thrusts before stilling and spilling into your channel. You had never seen him so out of breath, sweat dripping down his brow.

“My beautiful witcher,” You sang, wiping the sweat from his face. “That was wonderful.” 

“I’m glad you enjoyed yourself,” Eskel grinned like a Cheshire cat. He seemed quite proud of himself at having made you release first. 

“Can we do it again?” You chuckled, blushing at your own words. 

Eskel kissed you a hundred times and promised to do it a hundred more. “As often as you like.” 

[taikk0]

old art dump!?1!11?!! [part 1]

yeah I really wanted to post these at some point but they're so fcuking ugly they don't deserve to be posted out in the open for all to see 💀💀

like if I were to ever post these one by one I think my dignity would take a huge blow, and that's coming from someone with a massive crater in their chest where their ribcage once was because all their self-respect got absolutely THWACKED out of their body the moment they started simping for the krang. SPOILER ALERT I'm that someone

anyways they're all under the cut peer at your own risk

I know I already posted this here on my improvement post but fun fact: this was the very first fanart I made this year getting back into Rise

also yes there will be commentary, I will always feel the need to explain myself when it comes to things I would greatly want to apologize for 🧍‍‍♂��

WHY DID I DRAW THEM SO HORRIBLY DEFORMED WHO DROPPED THEM RAPH OVER HERE LOOKING LIKE MEGAMIND AND LEOS BUILT LIKE A PIATTOS CHIP

I literally do not remember the context of this at all. not sure if it was a continuation of something, but if it was I can't find the rest of it

don't know how to draw the turtles???? MEME REDRAW BABY

character development is finally realizing Mikey isn't a literal circle lIKE????? WHY IS HE SO BOILED EGG

this was also in my "I have no idea how to properly color" phase, which explains why it's so monotonous compared to the colors I tend to choose now. Everything just looks so murky.... like dirty paint water.....

the mystic door symbol thing doesn't mean anything, I think past Michael just wanted to fill in the space

mikyomix name reveal real?? jk it's always been out, I just haven't mentioned it here, anywho yes hi it's me a Michael

might redraw this soon actually, who knows

this was the very first time I ever actually drew Donnie right, where he didn't make me nauseous just by looking at him, and IT WAS FROM THIS WEIRD SPECIFIC ANGLE FROM SOME REASON. If I ever drew him in a way that looked good it was almost always THIS angle, especially in doodles, it was never ever Donnie actually facing front, it was just him with this weird slouch and his back turned slightly.

am I using too many of whatever "," is, listen I almost flunked English I can't punctuate for crud but I'm trying my best over here ok

(side note: the file name is called "dunkin donuts"???)

this was never supposed to see the light of day, but I think this would be considered fanart of a fanart?? I saw taytei 's species swap au on pinterest before I knew who they were and decided "yk what?? yeah I'll steal it but only for me because I'm bored"

which brings me to the next few drawings

LOOKING AT THESE SENT SHIVERS DOWN MY SPINE AND MY DINNER UP MY THROAT I DON'T LIKE THEM

we're moving on I don't like looking at these they're gross 💀

I made a joke about Donnie giving Leo his own tablet because he kept stealing it based on a very old drawing back in 2019 and it led to the idea of Leo turning into an Ipad kid, crusty screen and Ipad case in all its glory

if it wasn't obvious the background is a png of McDonald's because of course they're at McDonald's

ok, this is gonna sound so stereotypically ADHD of me but listen it makes sense lemme explain

so basically, I had a silly thought in my head that I've had for a long while about Donnie being British for no reason with no explanation as to why, it's not a headcanon it's just a funny thought I like to think about (so maybe it's an AU idk)

and I was binging Jack Whitehall (who was British) and it got to the part where he went on a schpiel on Robert Pattinson where he was talking about what it was like to go to school with him and there was this one section where he talks about being in school theatre with him.

and I thought.... "man wouldn't it be funny if that was the disaster twins..." and everything spiraled from there.

I made up this whole Yokai school they would have gone to if they didn't live in the sewers. Donnie is the head of the drama club, he always plays and casts himself as the main character in his own productions that he himself directs because he's just that good at his job. Leo joins the drama club and shows Donnie up, making him a little bit jealous. Leo is only let in because of the club members vouching for him, Which then leads to Donnie treating him poorly and casting him as a tree (SEE WERE COMING FULL CIRCLE) this obviously upsets Leo and ends up giving him more of a reason to become the center of attention, What was supposed to be a drag ended up helping Leo more than harming his chances of ruining Donnie's plans.

Everything then spirals into a competitive back and forth as to who is the better actor. It stops being about who gets to play which part and more about who comes out of this feud alive with a prestigious acting role tied to their name.

That was everything I thought about at the time though I just thought "HAHA DISASTER TWINS HIJINX" and that was it

someone send me that Donnie toy with the big head and maybe I will start writing fanfiction/JJJJJ

I had this idea of Donnie adopting a dog from Todd because it had an attitude and then the dog ended up being just as smart as him helping him solve equations and stuff and eventually it became his lab partner

yeah that paired up with the RotTMNT drama club thing I sound like I have a very weird brain we're moving on

I have to admit this because I really didn't wanna post this without a heads up but yes this is inspired by that one drawing made by h*bermen right before I even knew about what they did and I feel guilty about this one sometimes just by the sheer fact that it's even loosely associated to them :/

I have nothing to say about this one other than I suck at rendering

this drawing of the boys fighting over their childhood blankie was supposed to be a bit of a concept for a comic I wanted to make but never got around to even writing it out,

the gist of it was that the lair was starting to get a bit messy with the things they've hoarded over the last couple of years, so the turtles+splinter decided to clean everything up, managing what to throw away and what to keep

they come across a blanket that they used to have as kids (which was the same blanket from the flashback in hidden city's most wanted) The individual turtles are hesitant at first and decline wanting to keep it, but overtime they start to realize just how much they want their childhood blanket back. They start making excuses and stealing the blanket from one another, insisting that they needed it for something important, which was very much not the case.

soon everything ramps up to the point where their methods of trying to take ownership of the blanket start getting wilder and wilder and hijinx ensues, not long before everyone overtly starts fighting over it like their life depended on it at the climax of the episode.

I didn't really have a plan yet as to how it was going to end, but if I were to make something up on the spot I'd say either:

A.) it's revealed that the blanket was actually splinter's old bath towel that he doesn't use anymore, the turtles are disgusted by this and stop fighting over it. That is until the twist at the end where one of the turtles comes back for it and takes the towel for themselves when no one is around. gross.

B.) Mikey stops the fight before it gets too serious, calling him and his brothers out for acting like savages over a blanket. Soon everyone realizes that the blanket isn't important, the blanket may be of great significance to them, but their memories together will always be more important, and they can't let a simple piece of cloth tear them apart.

and then after everyone else has left and made up, turns out that it was actually Mikey's plan all along to have them stop fighting to keep the blanket for himself.

this is more of a doodle but I had to bring this one up because it's just funny to me

basically, I was drawing Leo and I had two separate layers, I drew Leo photogenically on the layer above with the deranged Leo invisible underneath, and after some time I completely forgot what I drew on the layer below and made it visible again

yeah you can imagine my soul leaving my body

white-eyed Raph freaks me out,,, where did the yellow go,,,,

"I'M SENSITIVE LEO"

this is the only non-turtle drawing in this whole post I think

okay, a bit of a backstory on this one, this was my very first actually finished RotTMNT animation. It was for a trend on TikTok not too long ago where artists would be drawing a character and the character would move to let the artist continue drawing them

This one animation has single-handedly given me so much clout, like holy crap it's literally at 5M views now and it scares me a little 😭😭

for anyone wondering, its this one

YES I AM AWARE OF HOW CRINGE IT IS LEAVE ME ALONE IM NOT THE SAME PERSON I WAS BACK IN MAY

or whatever month it was, I have no idea what 5-5 is supposed to mean I can't read tiktok dates

not rise related but oh my word I absolutely do not have an actual art style 💀

donnie gets trolled

very eyestrainy. this is a WIP screenshot from an animation meme I never finished

I still have the Krita file btw, so maybe one day ill get to show u guys the full soon if I ever get around to finishing it

I have no idea why I formatted this the way I did, but I'm assuming this was most likely a doodle right on top of the animation meme I mentioned earlier and I just didn't bother cropping it

yeah idk why I drew them with really big eyes

he's sleep-deprived and done with everything he's about to go apeshit

also, weird brush

when I tell you guys I was SO READY to see Leo die in the movie before any information on it came out

vine reference in 2022 baby

I'll have you guys know this was completely by accident

Anyways that's as much as I could fit in one post!! I have a bit more but ehhh maybe sometime later

these are all in the order I made them in, which explains why it kind of gets better the more you scroll, so I hope your eyeballs have been cleansed even slightly by the newer ones jfdsjfkI

I have no idea how to end this post uh like and subscribe

[davids-cartoon-corkboard]

Here’s that little fanfic thingy I was talking about; CW for manipulation, murder, and cannibalism under the cut. (LMK if I should add anything else.)

To expand on a potential fight between Zhu Dachu and the Not-Mayor:

Tang Shifu, Zhu Dachu, and Sha Dali are going to look for Long Xiaojiao; presumably she’s crashing at Red Son’s place because he’s teaching her. Demon Bull King and Princess Iron Fan aren’t 100% cool with that, but she has their son’s power so they feel it’s their responsibility to help out how they can.

They’re even less cool with LXJ’s friends hanging around, but she involuntarily lights shit on fire when upset so they can’t kick out her Emotional Support Peasants, ugh. Though surely it wouldn’t hurt to send them on a harmless yet time-consuming errand?

When LXJ is upset, the true fire of Samadhi rages out of control. When she is calm, it is extinguished. But what if she has a nightmare, and her friends cannot get close enough to wake and calm her? The true fire cannot be extinguished by normal water, but it can with magical water. Sun Wukong should have a vase of it back at his place, if you all would be so kind as to pop off and get it- it broke? Because of a giant dumpling?!

Okay, Plan B. DBK and PIF know where to get more magical water, so they send our three heroes off to retrieve some from... an iconic location in Journey to the West, probably, idk. Something hard to find and thus unclaimed, or kept by someone willing to give it up, or kept by a low-level villain they can take it from without too much risk or moral dilemma. The point is that they’re not expecting trouble. Red Son gives them a magical fire extinguisher to fill up, they leave Mo with LXJ for comfort, they go to the place, they get the water.

-

Zhu Dachu has spent a few minutes filling up the extinguisher; though it can’t hold an entire ocean like the vase could, it’s still noticeably Bigger On The Inside. It doesn’t even seem half-full yet. Tang Shifu and Sha Dali have their attention on something else, maybe they’re doing some maintenance on the truck or are looking at the wildlife. The moment is calm, and their guards are down.

A portal of cold blue flame opens next to Zhu Dachu. Between one blink and the next, the Not-Mayor reaches out, grabs the extinguisher, and yanks it through.

Zhu Dachu is too surprised to let out more than half a shout, but he’s not so surprised that he loses his grip- and so is also yanked through the portal. It closes behind him with a hiss.

On the other side is... somewhere. It seems to be the same general area, but he can’t see his friends, or the truck, or any familiar landmarks.

“Oh, thank you!” says the Not-Mayor, smiling toothily as always. “I’ve been looking everywhere for a good hammerspace container. I was so worried I’d never get my hands on one!”

Zhu Dachu and his family are not fools. Once the White Bone Spirit had made herself known, it was obvious in hindsight that the man who had given Qi Xiaotian that freaky skull key was working for her. He clicks the extinguisher shut and tries to twist it out of the Not-Mayor’s tepid hands. “Back off, creep. Your boss is just gonna have to find her own. HEY! CAN YOU HEAR ME?! LAO SHA! LAO TA-”

The knee slamming into his ribcage would have sent him flying, had his grip on the extinguisher not been so tight. Still, the wind is knocked out of him. A cold, dry ache jolts through his back and into his arms.

“Oh, but My Lady would be terribly disappointed in me if I went back empty-handed! I’m Her right hand, you see; I can’t have some pig-man showing me up and becoming Her new favorite.”

“Fav...orite?” is all Zhu Dachu can manage as he tries to get his lungs back in order. “W...hat?”

The Not-Mayor laughs. “Playing coy, are we? My friend, you know this is all that old monkey’s fault! My Lady has no quarrel with you or your family. You’re just confused.”

Zhu Dachu sucks in a breath and lurches forward, slamming his forehead into the Not-Mayor’s. Bone crunches and splinters beneath the force of the blow, a puff of dust erupting from the Not-Mayor’s cranium in lieu of blood and brains. It swirls into Zhu Dachu’s throat, and he begins to cough.

The Not-Mayor is rocked backward a bit, but seems otherwise unaffected. “My Lady” he continues as if nothing had happened, “does not delight in chaos, in wanton death and destruction like so many of the spirits and monsters you have faced before. She does not want to hurt you or your family! But so long as you ally yourself with that stinking ape your son calls a mentor, destiny does not run smoothly. My Lady simply has no choice but to consider you Her enemy.”

Zhu Dachu continues to cough, his throat burning as he fails to clear his lungs. He falls to his knees, his grip loosening despite his best efforts. The Not-Mayor rips the extinguisher from him, and Zhu Dachu’s palms burn as well from the speed of it.

“But surely you knew all that already. So you thought you’d use this chance to gain favor with Her- to sever your allegiance with Her enemy and give Her a little apology gift at the same time! It’s quite clever, really. But it’d make me look incompetent, and I can’t have that!” He snaps his fingers, and another portal opens. Even if Zhu Dachu’s vision wasn’t blurred from lack of air, he would not have recognized the windswept and desolate place on the other side. The Not-Mayor turns to walk through it, but hesitates. “Though, now that I’m thinking about it...”

The dust in Zhu Dachu’s throat wisps out of his mouth, and he can breathe again. He gasps in and out, wobbling to his feet as the Not-Mayor is abruptly right in front of him again, looking at him intently. “Perhaps we shouldn’t think of each other as enemies.” he says, his smile softer and more natural now. “You don’t seem half-bad, and to be perfectly honest, the Spider Clan is poor company. We could split the credit! You and your family will still gain Our Lady’s appreciation, I’ll still remain Her favorite- we can both win!” The Not-Mayor holds the extinguisher out to Zhu Dachu. “What do you say?”

Zhu Dachu holds his breath, hesitates... and takes it.

Then he drives his hoof through the Not-Mayor’s knee, snapping his leg in two and making him topple over backwards.

He turns and runs until there’s a dozen or so yards of distance between them. Risking a glance back- the Not-Mayor is struggling to sit up, and the dust pouring out of his knee hasn’t followed him; it’s just swirling around the wound aimlessly.

Good. He lets out the breath he was holding. “As if, “pal”! I don’t like that stinkin’ ape much either, but that doesn’t mean I’m gonna help out that pile of bones you call a lady, either! So unless you wanna lose your other knee, you oughta- oh shit!"

Between one word and the next, the Not-Mayor flips over onto his stomach and uses his arms to scrabble towards Zhu Dachu, closing the distance between them.

Zhu Dachu bolts, but not quite fast enough. The Not-Mayor grabs his ankle and sends him crashing to the ground. “WRONG CHOICE” resounds behind him, and out of the corner of his eye he sees a huge blue figure grinning as it tightens its grip.

-the figure laughs as it mows down another cluster of soldiers, the battlefield growing crowded with corpses.

He’ll buy time. By Heaven, he’ll buy time. He uses his n̶̴̴̴̴̵̸̸̴̴̟̭̣̍̐̎̓ḯ̶̸̵̵̷̗ń̸̸̵̴̸̵̶̷̵̴̢̺̬̙͐͝e̴̶̸̵̴̵̴̴̷̶̷̸̛̝͂̄̈̔̈̔͝-̷̶̷̴̷̵̷̵̴̸̸̸̷̳̺͈̀̊̍̍̂͊͠t̷̷̴̸̵̵̷̵̴̴̢̤̤͉̻̔͘o̷̸̶̵̷̸̷̵̸̷̡͔̥͋̇̇̂o̷̴̶̸̵̶̵̶̵̷̵̴̦͙͉̥͊̒͊̆̽t̴̶̵̵̷̴͉̫͒h̶̸̷̵̶̵̵̴̸̶̷̸̶̸͇̥͈͇̟͖̀̌̉͂͝e̸̵̷̶̴̵̷̵̷̴̸̴̶̴̸̵̱̘̳̟̪̎̈́͌͛͑̓̍̉d̴̶̴̷̴̴̵̨̛̦̾ ̴̷̷̵̵̷̴̵̶̸̶̶̷̟̫͕̙̟̬͇̏͋̇r̷̶̵̸̴̷̶̶͇͊̂͊̕ḁ̸̷̷̶̴̶̸̸̴̵̴̵̷̷͉̱͔͕͕̘͋̐̎͌k̸̷̶̸̶̷̷̴̵̵̵̶̸̘̭̩̲̿͆̂́̔͝ȇ̷̸̸̵̷̸̴̴̵̴̸̵̴̸̵̶̷̶̵̡̨̢̯͕̫̰̥̑́̏̂̈́̈̉ weapon as a crutch to stand upright, his crushed leg burning with cold. All he can hope for is to get in a few good swings, and die standing.

It turns to him. “I expected more of a fight from the Zhu B̴̸̴̸̷̸̷̲̠̥̖̑̔̒̚a̷̴̴̵̷̸̷̤͕͎͍̽́̂̿j̶̸̵̶̸̸̵̩̘̯̝͂̀͌̐ĩ̷̴̶̵͖̙̄��̶̶͎̿̃͜ẹ̴̶̷̵̸̸̶̬̩̻͐̓̿̕! Will the other two resist at all, I wonder? Not that I’m complaining, mind you! It’s been ages since I’ve had pork of any kind, and I've never had the chance to try dragon~”

Before he can push a retort through his broken windpipe, its massive hand clamps around his ribcage and its bloody jaws open wide. Tears not his own drip onto his face, and he has only a moment to r̷̺̜̝̞͍̀̒͗̅͊̾e̶̡͍̲̞̜̓͌ͅa̵̧͕̍͋͌l̷̨̨͙̼̬̙͕̃į̸̦̞̩̎̀̉͂̇̕z̴̢̛̤͂̈́̉e̷̥̖͚̓͗͌̈̑́͠ ̸͙̃it̴̹̣̟̬̹̋'̶��̡̫̦̰͌̕ͅͅs̸͓̥͙͈̀͘ ̵͕̳̗͙͓̭̙̉̏̋͗̿͗ň̶͍̞̠̐͐̂̏ö̶̟̞͈̌͘̕ṭ̸̣͙͔̦͗̈́ ̶̣̞̙́̊̚h̶̢̆̄̓̓̄͗ì̵̼̩̹̣̯̌̚ş̶̛̙͖̜̘̮͑͐̎̿̽͝ͅ ̷̛̮̼̪̳̘̟̅͛̓͊̕͝b̷̹̭͙͓̦͎̈́r̶̰͒̑o̴͉͕̍͊̑̾͋͊̅ͅṱ̷͗͋̄̀͘͝ḩ̵̤̫̙͓̝̓͒̌͑͆͝ͅe̷͙̩̗̠̘̫͛̑͘r̸̲̟͛͂ ̵̡̥̪̘̇̽̌́͛̓̓g̸͎̐̿̽͊̾̉͠ö̸̧̡̩͖̒n̷͎̠̪̗̗̍͋̚͘ẹ̵̣͎̓͝ ̶̧̻̤͖̬̘̀̀̄m̴͉̠̲͇̹͂̍͋͌͋ầ̷̺̳̤͕́̈́ḓ̶̛͇͖̠̫̌̅̊̍̿͝,̸̫̤̪̳͎̟̭̾ ̵̝̗͍͠ḯ̵̺̣̙͓̜̦̑͌̃̉͗͝t̶͎̦̙̯̩̅ͅ'̸̦͈͚̥̼̣̜̾͊s̵̢̛̩̻̎̍̈́̕͝ ̴͙͖͖̜͖͋̑̃̓͋͘̚s̵͕̲̼̗̀͆͆͗̽̓o̶̢͖̰̎m̸̠̜̬̉̀͛̽̄̊ͅḙ̶̻͎̰̦͇̪̅́̌ṫ̶͔ḩ̶͖̬̈́̍į̸̰̳̙̮̔͘n̸̨̡͉̫͇̬̟̿̽̐ĝ̶͉͌̈́͠ ̵̱̫̪̜͔̪̣̌͘͠e̵̡̖̬̘̳̎l̵̬͛́̑̆͜s̷̙͍͚̩̞̈́e̷̫̯̩̽͐̇ wonder what it means before he hears the crunch of his own skull and-

The scream that erupts from Zhu Dachu’s throat is more of a shockwave than a sound, pink light flickering and flashing as it radiates outward. The figure looming over him jerks back, shielding its body and face with its arms as it hisses in pain. Glitching and fizzling, it turns tail and retreats through the portal, which pops out of existence behind it.

The silence left behind briefly convinces Zhu Dachu that he’s gone deaf until his body remembers to breathe, the ragged sound filing down the sharp edges of panic in his chest. His arms twinge; he looks down and sees that he’s still clutching the extinguisher. It’s dented a little from how hard he’s holding it, and it doesn’t seem like he’ll be able to let go any time soon. His whole body is trembling.

There’s a tremendous crash in the distance, then a rush of wind and the huge blue figure is looming over him once more-

“Lao Zhu!” Tang Shifu’s voice rings out. “Are you okay?! What happened?!”

Oh. Oh, thank Heaven. He looks up and sees the worried faces of his friends; Sha Dali is kneeling over him protectively and Tang Shifu is clinging onto Sha Dali’s back for dear life, his hair windblown and his glasses askew.

“Hey.” He croaks, tasting iron in the back of his throat. “It’s. It’s gone, I think.”

Sha Dali begins checking him over for injuries. “Are you hurt? What attacked you?”

“Not bad. It grabbed my ankle and-” Zhu Dachu starts to wheeze, suddenly aware of the pain in his throat.

Sha Dali gently scoops him up. “Let’s get back to the truck and fix you up. You can tell us after you have some tea.”

-

A short while later, Zhu Dachu’s ankle has been tended to and his throat soothed with honey and lemon. “He wanted the extinguisher for “his lady”- three guesses who that is-, and when I didn’t give it to him he turned into this...” He gestures vaguely, trying to find the words. “...big freaky ghost monster? An’ he started makin’ me see shit, somehow, like I was hurt worse than I really was. An’ there were bodies everywhere, a bunch’a old-timey soldiers, I think? An’ he was tauntin’ me about how he was gonna eat you all, an’... well, I panicked. You heard that part.”

Tang Shifu adjusts his glasses. “Hmmm. A spirit so fast, in the guise of an ordinary human- you and Qi Xiaotian live in the city, Lao Zhu, and Long Xiaojiao has excellent security at home. But Lao Sha and I live in quieter areas, so it wouldn’t have been difficult for him to follow us home and dispose of us while we were sleeping. I wonder why he has waited until now to act?”

“Beats me.” Zhu Dachu takes another sip of tea. “You think she can do the same thing? Make people see things that aren’t there? Now that I know, I don’t think it’ll get to me so bad if it happens agai- Lao Sha?”

Sha Dali’s hands twist and wring around each other as tears prick at the corners of his eyes. He's shaking the faintest bit.

Oh, right. Mo is with Long Xiaojiao right now. Of course Sha Dali’s having a hard time winding down from the scare they’ve all had. Zhu Dachu reaches out to hold his friend’s hand.

Sha Dali abruptly stands up. “I’m gonna finish filling up the extinguisher. We should get to the Bull Palace as soon as possible.”

The ride back is quiet.

-

Elsewhere, in a windswept and desolate place, the Not-Mayor resumes his human form, cracking his joints one by one to make sure he’s gotten everything back in the right order. White Bone Spirit floats towards him and says something.

The Not-Mayor chuckles sheepishly. “Apologies, My Lady, but I can’t hear You. It’ll be a few moments more before my eardrums unburst themselves. I presented Your offer to our dear Zhu Dachu, if that’s what You were asking?”

She nods, and tilts her head to one side.

“Just as You said, he refused. But given how rattled he was at a hint of what happened to his last family, I’m sure he’ll come around. I wish I had brought a camera, the look on his face was priceless!”

White Bone Spirit smiles, and the Not-Mayor’s body repairs itself just in time to hear her melodious laugh.

---

(Context for the memory.)

(Context for “Lao”.)

-----

(Season 3 episode 10 courtesy of colesmonkies on youtube.)

[ratmonky]

Out of Body Experience

Word Count: 4.9K

Warnings: semi-public

AO3 Link

[You matched with Maru!]

[Send Maru a message!]

Maru: Hey.

(username): hiii!!

Maru: You look cute in your pictures on your profile.

(username): omg you think so?? i’m really happy!! i thought you had a rlly cool bio,,, i guess i did the right choice to like your bio

Maru: Thanks. I was surprised to get a notification that we matched. You’re way out of my league.

(username): don’t say that maruuu~ i bet you look handsome irl

Maru: I don’t.

(username): hmm, wanna prove it?? >.<

Maru: I don’t know.

(username): don’t be shy!! ur bio said you lived in kyoto, wanna meet up this saturday?

Maru: You’ll be disappointed.

(username): i promise i won’t!!! i like meeting new ppl!!! besides if we didn’t click we can still be friends?? i feel like you and i will be close no matter what!!

Maru: Are you sure? We just met.

(username): yep!!! come ooooonnnnn it’ll be fun to hang out!!

Maru: Fine.

(username): yay!!! let’s meet in front of the train station!! ahh i’m so excitedddd i can’t waittt TwT

Maru: Me too.

(username): <3

[Maru: <3………….. (send)]

Kokichi paused and deleted the message.

Maru: See you.

~~~

Kokichi’s first impression of you was that you were naive and careless. You wanted to meet up with him without any hesitation, what if he was someone who could harm you?

He stared at his screen and at your pictures.

You were gorgeous, he had never seen someone as pretty as you. On top of all that you wanted to meet him.

It made him feel special, wanted even.

~~~

When a notification sound filled his ears, Kokichi immediately checked if it was from you.

(username): maruuuuu!!!! i missed u  ))):

He stared at the message and read it three times but didn’t quite understand why you would miss him.

Maru: What?

(username): i thought you’d text me but u didn’t,,, i couldn’t sleep cuz i was thinking about u

Maru: I didn’t think you wanted me to text you.

(username): )):

Maru: ?

(username): )))):

Maru: (:

(username): (((((:

Maru: You’re childish aren’t you?

(username): what about it q;

Maru: Nothing. How old are you anyway?

(username): old enough to drinkkkk!!!

Maru: Me too. Which Jujutsu college are you going to?

(username): ohh, hehe… i dropped out cuz it wasn’t my thing

Maru: That’s irresponsible. Did you drop because you couldn’t keep up with your curse classes or was it for some other reason?

(username): maruuuu stop talking about jujutsu with meee!!!

Maru: Then what should we talk about?

(username): about our date >.<

Maru: Date?

(username): did u forget already )):

Maru: Forget what?

(username): our date on saturday )):

Maru: That’s a date?

(username): TwT ur making me sad maru

Maru: I don’t understand it, we just said we’d meet up.

(username): this is a dating website for ppl like us ///:

Maru: You want to date me?

(username): idk anymore,,, seems like ur a heartbreaker and i feel like u don’t feel a connection between us as i do

Maru: Wait! Don’t jump to conclusions all by yourself! You don’t even know what I look like, how can you be so sure that you want to date me?

(username): i mean,,, we matched for a reason,,, i liked ur bio and wanted to get to know u better is that bad??

Maru: No. No, it isn’t. I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings. I'm new to this sort of stuff.

(username): apology accepted!!!! ahhhh ur so cute,,, i can’t wait to meet u

Maru: Same here.

~~~

His classmates knew something was up. Robotic demeanor was gone and instead, it was actually a part of himself as Kokichi that was showing through.

“Mechamaru looks happy nowadays,” Kamo noted.

“It’s relieving that he shows us a softer side of himself,” Miwa added. “Makes me feel happy for him.”

“I wonder what caused him to become this way.” Kamo was talking to himself but Todo took it upon himself to answer.

“He has finally found himself a Takada-chan.” Todo grinned. “Reminds me, I never asked him what his type of woman is.”

There was a moment of silence before Todo walked out into the campus garden to make his way towards Mechamaru.

Mechamaru didn’t notice his presence as he was watering the flowers.

“Yo.”

“Todo. Did you need something?”

“What’s your type of woman?”

Caught off guard, Mechamaru dropped the watering can. “I… I think someone who’s kind and cheerful.” Someone who’s submissive.

“Like I guessed.” Todo held his chin between the knuckle of his forefinger and thumb as he hummed thoughtfully. “You’re as lifeless as your puppet.”

~~~

What did that suppose to mean?

Kokichi was just telling the truth.

Right?

~~~

Days passed until Friday came.

Kokichi talked to you almost every day and whenever he could. He seemed to enjoy your company more than he thought he would when the two of you first matched.

He woke up to your messages and went to sleep only after he texted you goodnight.

Today, he felt like his heart was going to jump out of his ribcage, he could hear his own pulse when it got too quiet and it was dead silent in his hideout… as always.

All he could think about was your date tomorrow. He had made sure to dress up Mechamaru nicely for the occasion and checked the weather report thrice so the date wouldn’t be ruined because of anything out of his control.

There was still something that made him extremely anxious. What if you didn’t like him? What if everything went terribly and you blocked his number?

He needed something to distract him from these negative thoughts.

Maru: Hey.

(username): maruuuu!!!! what r u doin??

Maru: Going to sleep soon, I think.

(username): without me (;

Maru: Never.

(username): i’m blushing

Maru: How are you?

(username): fine, i'm doing skincare tonight to get ready for our date!!

Maru: About that...

(username): ....

(username): are you going to cancel our date?

Maru: No! I’m just anxious about it.

(username): good cuz i’d block u

Maru: I don’t think you would.

(username): you don’t know me

Maru: Because you never told me about yourself.

(username): ^-^; haha yeah,,, so,,, what would you like to know?

Maru: Everything.

Without even noticing the passing time, Kokichi chatted with you until he couldn’t keep his eyes open anymore.

He learned everything about you. From the earliest memory, you could recall about your first interaction with a cursed spirit to your latest obsession with an online game about cute animals.

His eyelids were getting heavier, he texted you goodnight and how he was excited to meet you tomorrow.

When he closed his eyes, this time he managed to fall asleep.

~~~

You pressed your phone to your chest and kicked at your sheets. The excitement was eating you up, the butterflies in your stomach wouldn’t calm down either. All because of someone you met online a couple of days ago.

It wasn’t something new to you to meet up with people you met online but this felt a lot different.

Previous times, you had used different dating apps or social media websites to make friends but this was the first time you had used a dating website specifically for people who knew the existence of curses.

Jujutsu sorcerers often found it hard to find someone they could click with because of their field of work but this website had risen up to popularity from day one. Your old classmates from your jujutsu college wouldn’t shut up about it so you gave it a go after their insisting.

Maru was one of the first people you matched with on the website. In his profile, he had written about how he wanted to find someone he could be himself with and date them.

That’s why tomorrow, you had to be on your best behavior so he could be himself around you.

~~~

You were twenty minutes early.

It wasn’t your intention to arrive this early but whether it be the excitement to meet up with Maru or not wanting to make him wait if your train was late-

Wait, those were all connected.

Letting out a sigh, you checked your phone. Yep, still twenty minutes. Once you put it back in your purse, your eyes scouted around the station. There weren’t any empty spaces for you to sit so you were standing by a meeting point next to the maps, hoping Maru would see you.

Although you didn’t know what he looked like, you had put effort into how you looked today so you could impress him. Deep inside, you hoped he would take notice of your appearance and compliment you but some men were just too dense.

From the way he had started texting you, he gave you the impression that he was one of those stoic and dense men but as you started to get to know him better, he turned out to be quite a friendly person. Very talkative and caring.

You pressed a hand on your cheek, you were burning up. Geez, were you really blushing this much because of him?

When you told your friends about this date, they had told you not to have too many expectations about Maru. They believed you were being catfished but it wasn’t possible, you didn’t want to meet him because of his appearance after all.

“Um, excuse me-”

Startled, you lifted your head to stare at a… robot?

You stepped away from its way, thinking that you were standing in front of its charging station or something. How long had it been since you had gone out? Had robots already taken over? Or was this one of those public pranks?

The robot was staring at you even after you moved away.

“(username)?”

You lifted your gaze and looked at the robot with wide eyes. “M-M-Maru?”

It nodded, “Mechamaru.”

No, it wasn’t a robot. You could sense cursed energy oozing from it. More like a cursed doll. Nevertheless, you were speechless.

There was a long pause before you spoke. “Ah, I...” You looked around as if you were searching for an exit and anxiously clutching on your purse.

Great, you were going to make up an excuse and go away. Just like he thought you would.

“I thought I was going to meet you, not a puppet.”

“I’m here,” he said, static sizzling noise coming from him was like nails on a chalkboard. “I just can’t be physically here because of my condition.”

“You could’ve told me about it first… ahh, sorry.” You sounded more annoyed than you would have liked but quickly covered it up by bowing your head to greet him. “Nevermind, I’m (name).”

“Are we going to use real names?”

“Well, I’m not gonna call you Megaman.” There was a smile.

“Mechamaru,” he corrected. After a short silence, he added, “Kokichi.”

“Nice to meet you Kokichi, I hope we can get along well.” You bowed yet again.

“Why are you being so formal?”

“It’s cuz…” You pointed at him.

“What?”

“Well…” You used both hands to gesture his whole body.

“If you say it’s because I’m a robot or anything similar to that, I’ll go home.” He sounded serious, or maybe it was because of the static.

You pouted and leaned forward on your tiptoes, “If I can’t even joke around then I’ll go home.”

“I thought you were looking forward to our date.” When you blushed at his words he spoke again. “You look cuter than your pictures.”

“Ahh, you really think so?” You started walking and he followed after you.

“I do.” He was keeping a large space between the two of you, whenever you tried to walk closer to him, he would move away but now when you were caught in the station with the crowd who were going home after work hours, you had to stay close to him.

You were being pushed against Kokichi thanks to the crowd trying to walk out of the station and he didn’t complain about it. Kokichi didn’t look at you, he thought about the things he read on the internet instead.

‘If you want your date to consider you as manly, you have to invest yourself to talk to her.’

“Your dress looks cute.” Kokichi came up with ‘the compliment her outfit’ route, he had seen men flirt before, he could do it too.

He stared down for a moment to see your reaction.

Bingo!

You smiled brighter than the sun, you played with your hair to give him a playful answer. “Thank you, I wore this just for our date.” Your eyes shined with small sparkles in them. “I really like your collar.” You pointed at his face, not too close, hesitant to invade his personal space. I’m here with his puppet not him, you reminded yourself.

“Thanks.”

When the two of you finally exited the station, you walked alongside him.

“Where to?” He nonchalantly asked while you were looking around the streets.

“What about karaoke?” You gave him an inviting smile, “It’d be fun.”

“Whatever you say.” He wasn’t sure which way you were taking. There was the main street and Kyoto's red-light district, of course, he knew you wouldn’t be going there. “Which street are we going for?”

You pointed to your right, “The main street, there is a karaoke place I know.” Your smile altered when you noticed how this time when you walked together to cross the street, it was close, your shoulder touched his fake biceps.

“I’m not good at singing for obvious reasons.” Back in his bathtub, Kokichi said it in a joking manner but thanks to the cursed puppet, it sounded a lot as if he was annoyed about the idea of going into karaoke. He bit his tongue and cringed, waiting for your reaction.

“You can still try, can’t you?” You gave him the best puppy eyes you could. “For me?”

Kokichi blushed but you weren’t able to see it through Mechamaru. “Y-yeah.”

“Oh, I didn’t know robots could stutter.”

“I didn’t stutter and I’m not a robot. This is a cursed puppet and sometimes the commands I give are interrupted, that’s why I-”

“You’re so easy to tease just as I guessed!”

Kokichi covered his mouth with his hand, watching you giggle at him through his screen.

“Here it is.” Pointing at a sign, you grabbed his arm and dragged him with you.

While you were showing him the prices, he was busy staring down at your shirt. He could… he could see your cleavage.

“The menu says they serve alcohol at this hour! Ahh, the prices are cheaper than the last time too! We can share the tab-” You stopped yourself from talking. Silence brought him out of his trance. “Oops, sorry. You can’t eat or drink through Megaman, right?”

“Mechamaru,” he corrected. “No, I can’t… But it’s on me anyway.”

“You’ll pay?” Your eyes sparkled brighter than the stars. Your pouting lips and hand on his chest didn’t help.

Kokichi looked away, blushing. “Y-yeah.”

“Y-you’re the best!” Mocking his stuttering, you offered him a cute smile. Then you went on to drag him inside while telling him about how this place was the best karaoke place in Kyoto because they served desserts and your favorite cocktail. All the while renting a room for the two of you.

“Would you like to share with others?” The employee asked.

“No.” Your answer was instantaneous.

Behind the register, the employee stared at Kokichi and down at you. It was easy to tell he thought the two of you were a mismatch. “Your room is to the left, you can order through the smart tablet. Have fun.”

“Thanks,” you said before walking past the register. When Kokichi caught up with you, you turned around. “Did you see the way he stared? So lame!”

“Well, anyone would have stared if they saw a pretty girl next to a robot.”

“So, you’re accepting you’re a robot?” You grinned, opening the door to the private room.

“That’s not what I meant!” He didn’t know what he was expecting. From the way you texted, he should have known you were this childish and unable to have a serious conversation.

“Hmm?”

“Nothing.” He closed the door behind him as you were ordering as many drinks as you could. Once he noticed you were about to order the entire menu, he barely managed to stop you by taking the smart tablet away from your hands. “Hey, I’m not rich!”

“It’s cheap, trust me!” You pouted your lips again, reaching for the smart tablet he was holding above your head.

His stare found the menu and froze. It was cheaper than he had thought like you said. He had never been somewhere like this, nobody could blame him for it.

“Sorry, I didn’t notice,” he said as he handed the device back to you.

“I was showing you the menu earlier, you weren’t listening, were you?” Your smile widened, eyes squinting knowingly.

“I was listening! You’re talking way too much, I can’t keep up!”

You crossed your legs, continuing to add stuff to your order.

It got quiet.

Realizing what he had said was rude, he apologized.

“It doesn’t sound genuine.”

“It’s because I’m talking through a puppet.”

“Exactly.”

You weren’t looking at him. Putting the tablet aside, you leaned back on the soft cushions. The mood had changed. When you weren’t talking, it was too quiet.

Decidedly, he walked over to the karaoke machine and grabbed two microphones. He sat next to you, placing one of the microphones next to you as he reached for the tablet.

There were way too many songs in the system and he knew none of them.

Scrolling further, he found Takada-chan’s songs.

“You like Takada-chan?” you asked, noticing how he had stopped scrolling.

“No,” he replied. “My friend-” Was he really his friend? “My friend likes her, he won’t stop talking about her and all.”

“I like her,” you said. “I’ve been to her meet and greets many times but they’re always ruined by some buff dude who has the most tickets. He’s always at the events, kinda creepy but seems like he supports her. He once beat up some guy who insulted her.”

Kokichi didn’t say anything. He didn’t want that guy to be the icebreaker on his date.

“Creepy,” he uttered before putting the tablet on your lap. “You should sing, I don’t know any of these songs.”

“None of them?” You raised a brow.

“None.”

“You’re so boring,” you murmured, clicking on the first song you saw.

The loud music filled the room and his hideout. You tapped on the microphone, “Check, one, two. Kokichi is sooooo boring!”

Your laughter was the next thing that filled his hideout. He chuckled but it came out as a static noise through Mechamaru.

While you were singing, the same employee came with two trays full of drinks and snacks, he left them on the table before leaving immediately. None of you paid any mind as you were changing the lyrics to tease Kokichi.

“Are those really the lyrics?” he asked.

“Yep!”

Another giggle.

Too cute.

Very cute.

He watched you stop singing for a brief moment to chug down your third drink. Your cheeks were flushed red from the booze and your neck was sweaty, you kept fanning your hand towards your face.

His gaze focused on a particular sweat droplet on your neck and idly watched as it drizzled down to your cleavage before disappearing under the fabric of your dress.

Kokichi tried focusing on something else but he found himself unable to tear his eyes away from you. Every single thing you did was seductive. When you bit onto a small rice cake or the way your lips closed around the straw of your drink and how your cheeks hollowed when you tried sucking the last bits of your cocktail in your mouth.

The last drop had to be when you grabbed an ice cube from your drink and held it over the skin of your chest.

His hand pressed on his lower half. He was thankful he wasn’t physically there or he would have been labeled as a pervert. Under the soothing medical liquid, he had a problem you didn’t need to see.

You weren’t singing anymore but the music was playing nonetheless to suppress the silence as Kokichi was practically undressing you with his eyes.

“Heyyy, Kokichi~” you slurred, sitting closer to him. “You’re being too quiet!”

Taken aback, he spoke. “I’m not sure what to say?”

“Just talk…” you whined, putting a hand on his knee.

Oh, how he wished he could feel the warmth of your hand.

“Or better… Sing!” You held a microphone up to his face.

“I can’t sing,” he reminded.

“You said, you’d sing for meee~”

He blushed, taking the microphone from your hand. “I don’t know the lyrics.”

“It’s on the screen.”

Yes, the lyrics were on the screen.

He felt embarrassed, this was stupid. He wasn’t even actually in the room with you but he felt so nervous. His actual hands were shaking as he gulped.

When he started singing, you started laughing.

The static made it sound like he was an actual robot. Yet, Kokichi didn’t stop despite how tone-deaf his voice was coming through Mechamaru. He wanted to make sure you were having fun but the music stopped.

Both of you stared at the notification on the tablet, asking if you wanted to add another hour to your stay.

Had it already been an hour? Time was going fast when you two were having fun.

You looked at Kokichi.

He pressed to accept.

The music continued playing.

This time, Kokichi didn’t sing. The two of you started chatting about everything and anything until there was a lull in the conversation.

“Lemme see your hand,” you said, reaching your own towards him. He slowly placed his hand on your open one and you compared the size. “Wow, your hand is hugee, is your real hand this big?”

Funny, if not absurd. You were on a date with a puppet but you were getting turned on.

“It's the same size as my own hand.” His gaze dropped to his actual body. “At least one of them.”

“Can you feel that?” You intertwined your fingers with his.

���No.” He wasn’t looking and he didn’t need to look. The depressing realization that he was always going to watch people behind a screen and in this damn bathtub was starting to sink in once again.

“Can you feel this?” You were giggling.

“I told you, I can’t feel-” His breathing stopped at the sight of you pressing his hand on your breast.

“I wanna meet you, Kokichi~” Smiling enticingly, you sat closer to him. “It’s no fun when I can’t see if you’re blushing right now.” Your hand over his hand moved on your breast, the supple flesh jiggled under the front of your dress. “Are you blushing right now?”

“I am.” His answer was instant.

“You know,” you started, putting your free hand on his thigh and lifting your leg up on the cushion to face him. “I got all dressed up ‘cause I wanted you to lose your composure. You sounded so uptight and stoic. I wanted to see you lose it.” Tilting your head, you puckered your lips. “But you didn’t even come to our date.”

“I did.”

“Megaman did.”

“Mechamaru.”

“I wanted Kokichi to come.” You pulled his hand away from your breast and led it down to your stomach and even lower. “I wish you were here so you could feel how wet I am.”

“(name),” he said. “I can’t feel my fingers through Mechamaru.”

“Mm?” You placed his hand under the skirt of your dress. “But I can feel them.”

Kokichi’s actual hand started shaking in excitement as Mechamaru’s fingers brushed against your panties.

“Can’t I meet you?” Your voice was faint compared to the music but he heard it. “I wanna meet you.”

“You’ll be disappointed, I don’t look… normal.”

“You don’t look normal right now either.” Biting your lip, you moved against his hand. A soft gasp left your lips. “Yet, I’m so turned on right now.”

There were a thousand different thoughts invading his mind but Kokichi felt like he was hypnotized by your hips.

“Kokichiii, move your fingers,” you whined softly, your eyes hazy with lust.

“I need to see them,” he said. Back in his room, his own hand was pressing down on his growing erection. “Or I may move them wrong.”

“Pervert~” you teased, lifting the skirt of your dress up.

He didn’t say anything, instead focused his attention on your soaked panties. How long had you been this wet? From the moment you two rented the room or-

“Kokichi.” Your needy voice brought him out of his dirty thoughts. “You don’t have a cock under your pants, do you?” Your hand pressed against Mechamaru’s groin.

For the first time in his life, Kokichi felt his entire body jolt. Your vulgar way of asking was enough to get him rock hard. “No-”

“What a waste.” Sulking, you retrieved your hand. “But are you hard right now?”

“I… I am.”

A dangerous glint sparkled through your eyes. “If only you were here… I’d make you feel sooo good.”

Mechamaru’s fingers pressed against your clothed folds before moving along them. A soft moan left your lips and you balanced yourself on your hands.

“I look like a freak-”

“You keep saying that.” Your hips moved against his hand. “As if that matters to me.”

Mechamaru slid your panties to the side and spread your folds with two of his fingers, he carefully watched as wet strands connecting them together broke apart. Kokichi’s own hand was pumping his cock.

“What are you doing right now, Kokichi?”

“I’m putting a finger inside.” He inserted one of his fingers inside you.

“No, what are you really doing?” You bit your lip.

“I’m… I’m jerking off.”

Satisfied with his answer, you crossed a leg over his to settle on his lap with your back against his chest. Spreading your legs wider, you allowed him a better view of your wet pussy. Mechamaru’s digits slid inside as Kokichi moved his hand along the length of his cock.

Mechamaru’s other hand went to cup your breast over your shirt, making a moan escape your lips.

His fingers were reaching deeper than your own fingers ever could. The digits moved in a scissoring motion and curled against your gummy walls, pressing against the spot that made your vision blurry.

“Kokichi,” gasping, you squirmed on his lap, your back arched when his thumb grazed over your clit. “I wanna kiss you so bad.”

Kokichi’s hand tightened around the tip of his cock, he pulled the sensitive skin down to expose the pink tip and massaged it using his thumb. When his hand started moving along his cock again, the device helping him talk through Mechamaru picked up the clicking sound rather than the medical fluid splashing.

You moaned at the realization of what you were hearing.

The feeling of the metallic firm fingers stroking your clit made your hips buck against his hand. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, panting, you pressed your thighs together.

Mechamaru’s hand on your chest moved down on your thigh to hold you in place as his fingers inside your pussy started to vibrate. The sudden pleasure made you scream but the loud music concealed it.

Kokichi couldn’t breathe normally, his pulse had gone haywire as his hand was moving hastily around his cock while Mechamaru’s digits were messing you up.

“S-s-s-stop!” Your voice broke into a moan.

“Do you really want me to stop?” He barely managed to ask, his hand wouldn’t stop.

You shook your head rapidly, biting your lip.

Your walls clenched around the digits, sucking them in deeper. Kokichi’s own hand was moving faster than his heartbeat. His tongue lolled out of his mouth and his shoulders tensed.

He was close.

From the way you were shaking, he could say the same thing for you.

So, when Mechamaru pushed his digits further inside, the vibration got stronger and stronger until your legs shook. The pleasure that was building in your gut suddenly got released, shaking you to your core.

Kokichi followed suit, his cock spurted thick clumps of cum and they landed on his stomach, his bandages absorbed his seed.

By the time he caught his breath, he realized you were still on his lap.

Mechamaru had gone limp as he had gotten distracted because of his orgasm. He revived the cursed doll while you were trying to fix your dress.

You wanted to say something but you couldn’t find something to say.

To your rescue, the music stopped.

The tablet had the same notification from before. Informing you that the second hour had ended and if you wanted to rent the room for one more hour.

Kokichi leaned forward and pressed on the tablet to end the session.

“We’re leaving already?” you pouted your lips.

“You said you wanted to meet me.”

Kokichi watched as the brightest smile he had ever seen formed on your face.

After he paid the tab the two of you exited the building as he held you up with one hand because your legs weren’t functioning properly.

“The employee behind the register noticed your wobbly legs,” Kokichi said.

“You think so?” you whispered, cheeks and ears colored in bright red.

“He was looking, so, yes.”

“You kinda went overboard by using Megaman’s vibrator hands.” Your giggle filled his ears and he smiled to himself.

“It’s Mechamaru.”

[nocturnal-milk-dud]

I absolutely love the idea of this challenge!! I'd like to request Will Miller and RE2. Even if you don't get to this request, I can't wait for what you've got coming up!

Will Miller is a such a good choice Anon! I love it! For some reason the ideas for the RE requests came to me like nothing and I'm fighting with the others

Operation NESTWRECKER

Pairing: Will “Ironhead” Miller x Reader

Warnings/notes: not too many I don't think; blood; a little body horror maybe; violence; heights; language; Will and Reader are members of USS (Umbrella Security Service) and part of Alpha Team led by Hunk (is it HUNK or Hunk? I've seen it both ways) during Operation Nestwrecker; on September 22, 1998, Alpha Team infiltrates Nest, shoots Dr. Birkin while attempting to apprehend him and his G and T virus samples. Things don’t go well. Now, would alpha team know about the zombies before coming into contact with them? Idk, but in my head maybe they were briefed on the smaller incidences outside raccoon city in case they came across anything. ANYWAY

Rating: (I've completely forgotten to do these) R

Word count: 1620

September 23, 1998: The Beginning of The End

Air finds your lungs. You pull in a sharp, rattling gasp and your eyes startle open. The last thing you remember is a heavy arm hitting you like a freight train and flinging your body into a wall before your legs were trampled. You don’t know if you’re still in danger and it takes a moment to remember exactly where you are. One eye of your gas mask is shattered and you wrench it off, feeling like it’s stifling your breathing. Your chest moves with rapid, shallow breaths, every one punctuated with a twinge of pain. 

You’re in a hallway just off the lab where your team cornered Birkin. Things had gone wrong when he tried to pull a gun, but none of you realized just how wrong until his mutated corpse came thrashing down the hallway. You and Ghost had been the first to feel the creature’s rage. You remember watching the others break into a sprint before you blacked out: Hunk taking point, Kirkpatrick with the case of samples in hand, and Ironhead trying to come back for you. Hunk had snapped at him and then they were running for their lives. 

Ironhead. Will. Had he made it out? Had any of them? Hunk did. You have to believe that otherwise what hope is there for you? If the Grim Reaper is dead then so are you. 

You slide a gloved hand up under your gear and carefully prod along your ribcage. A sharp pain makes you wince and you’re positive the whole left side of your body is one big bruise. Getting to your feet is a study in pain. You can barely stand up straight, arm wrapped around your torso as if it’s holding it together. Your legs feel splintered and broken. Using the stark white walls to keep you upright, you limp down the hallway.

Through the automatic doors at the end is the web--three bridges stretching over an abyss, running out from the North, East, and West areas and meeting in the center at an elevator. Every step and turn is made with the underlying fear of finding Will’s crumpled body waiting for you. Or worse: infected and hungry, but everything is quiet, empty. When you get to the elevator you see it: a USS soldier slumped in a heap against the railing by the door to the North area. Instead of activating the elevator, you cross the walkway, stomach filled with dread. You slide your gun out of the holster.

The man still has his gas mask on. His shoulders are slouched and his chin is buried in his chest. A patch on his chest says W. Miller and ice water settles in your veins. A part of you wishes you hadn’t found him. You crouch in front of him and lay your gun on the floor next to your foot. With great care, you remove his helmet and gas mask. You sit back, resting your chin on your knee, and almost convince yourself he’s sleeping. The lines in his face have softened, and you picture them deepening from the cocky smile he gave you just before putting on his gas mask. You consider staying there. The samples are gone--either with the rest of the team or destroyed--you’re of no value to Umbrella anymore. Might as well accept the inevitable. But you’re not wired that way. If there’s any chance of survival you’ll fight tooth and nail for it. But you’ll have to leave him here. Your eyes linger on his face, trying to memorize it, before reaching out to rip the name tag off his vest. Will starts, his head snapping up, and you shift back, grabbing your gun off the floor and pointing it at his head, begging with every fiber of your being that you won’t have to use it. Will’s hand comes up and clamps around the barrel, pushing the gun down. You watch as he pinches his eyes shut and presses the palm of his free hand against his forehead. 

“Will?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper. His eyes meet yours and he gives you a smile that’s more of a wince. You put your gun down and pull him into a hug, the action hurting both of you but you don’t care. 

“I knew you were too stubborn to die,” Will says.

“What happened to the others?” you ask, letting him go.

“Made it to the sewers, I guess,” he says. “Made it further than me, anyway. I tried to collapse the bridge, but I wasn’t fast enough. It’s like I was standing on train tracks.” As he speaks he performs the same cursory inspection you had, feeling for damage beneath his gear.

“I know the feeling,” you say and he nods, his slate colored eyes heavy with regret.

“I’m sorry I left you behind.”

“I probably would’ve done the same,” you admit, helping him to his feet. The two of you take it slow, leaning on each other as you head for the elevator. 

“Where do you think he is?” you ask.

“Birkin? With any luck, far away from here.” You think about the city above, wondering if he could have made it to the surface. You pause at the elevator, Will breathing heavily. He groans as he lifts his arm, his wristband activating the panel with a chirp. He presses the button and there’s a hiss as the glass doors open. Before Will can move his hand away, a metal pipe comes crashing down on his wrist and you’re sure you hear the cracking of bone. Will cries out, bringing his shattered wrist to his chest. The pipe comes swinging down again and the two of you push each other out of the way, falling hard to the floor. You’re lying on your side, and you look up to see Birkin towering over Will. Half of his shredded lab coat hangs onto the arm that’s still human. His toothpick legs struggle under the weight of the arm he injected with the virus. The right side of his body is a red mess of tendon and muscle, the arm swollen to a hideous size, long bone claws at the end. Tissue in the bulbous mass that is his shoulder opens to reveal an eye the size of a beach ball. It’s as if the monster is pulling itself out of Birkin. Will’s jaw is tight and the muscles in his neck strain against his reddened skin as he struggles to push himself away from Birkin. Birkin’s weapon clatters to the floor and he reaches down, grabbing Will by the head, his hand obscuring Will’s face, and he hauls him up from the floor. Muffled grunts die in Birkin’s hand and Will’s legs thrash uselessly in the air. One hand fumbles his knife and it tumbles to the floor. A fury ignites deep within you. The two of you did not survive Birkin just so he could come back and kill you. You grab Will’s knife and jam it into Birkin’s leg. He howls and lets Will fall. You scramble to your feet as Birkin turns his attention to you and you draw your gun, firing at the eye, Birkin’s head, anything you can hit. You lead him out onto the walkway heading to the North area. Will lifts himself up, his body leaning against the railing.

“What are you waiting for?” you call. “Get outta here!”

“Are you crazy? I’m not leaving!” Will shouts back. Another shot to the eye and Birkin drops to one knee. You glance over your shoulder, the door to the North area not far behind you, and behind that a bunch of dead ends. Birkin is getting up and you’re running out of ammo. Before you can make a decision, there’s a gunshot and Birkin grunts, spinning around. Will blinks blood from a cut in his forehead out of his eye and takes another shot.

“Not him,” you whisper to Birkin. He’s nearing the end of the bridge and you remember what Will said when you asked him about the others. You look back over your shoulder at the panel and run for it. It’s not far, but every part of your body aches, lungs burning with every desperate inhale. The panel chirps and you slam your hand on the button. The walkway jerks back toward you before Birkin has a chance to step off it. He isn’t ready and the shift compromises his balance, arms wheeling as he tries not to tumble forward into the abyss. You want to sink to the floor when you see him steady, the bridge carrying him right back to you. You curse under your breath and sprint out onto the walkway. 

“What are you doing?!” Will shouts. You don’t answer, you don’t think. If you think, you’ll lose your balance. If you think, you’ll slow down. If you think, you’ll be dead. You collide with Birkin and it’s like hitting a brick wall. You shove him with all the strength you have left, sending him over the edge. There’s too much momentum and you follow, Will’s shout and Birkin’s howl mingling in your ears. Your arm catches the edge of the bridge and you cry out as your shoulder wrenches from the force of your weight. You manage to hook your other arm on the ledge, clinging precariously, teeth clenching with the effort. The walkway is still retreating under the North platform and your time is running out.

“Move!” Will orders. It’s all he can do from his position, but it’s all you need. You growl as you heave your chest up onto the bridge, the metal digging into your bruised ribs. You wrap a hand around the low railing and pull. You’re moving too slow and the bridge is moving too fast. You don’t try to stand when you get your feet under you, knowing that if you do you’ll fall, your legs feeling like noodles. The platform is close enough for you to jump from the walkway onto it, landing hard on your chest. With a groan, you push onto your back. 

It takes a while to stand up. When you do you taste warm copper in your mouth and you spit a splash of red out onto the floor. You hit the button for the bridge and take your time crossing.

“That’s the stupidest fucking thing you’ve ever done,” Will says when you reach him. He’s angry, jaw rigid and eyes tight. You don’t say anything, just tie your good arm around his waist and rest your forehead on his shoulder. He lets out a breath that you imagine he’s been holding for some time and hugs you back with his good arm. 

[sammysmaddy]

Goodbyes (Samifer x Reader)*

Summary: Sam's said yes to Lucifer and when Lucifer finds all of his dirty thoughts trapped inside his head, he gives Sam a front seat show to his sister.

Pairing: Lucifer!Sam x Winchester!Reader

Warnings: incest, sister!cest, noncon on two accounts, choking, p in v, angst, crying, biting, blood mentioned, Sammy having dirty thoughts about his little sister ;)

W/C: 4,000+

A/N: Idk where this idea popped out of but I love it 😏😳 :) Also I know that twistedly isn't a word, okay? Edited to the best of my ability because I’m too scared to load smut into grammarly 😂

Masterlist

•••

"Sammy? What are you doing here?" She asked, her eyes full and wide as they stared up at him.

"I just wanted to see you," He replied, looking down at her as she sat up against the headboard. He could tell she was still half asleep, a little startled by his presence, and he could practically hear her heart beating out of her chest.

"You didn't?" She trailed on, furrowing her eyebrows and looking super concerned. Sam gave her a soft smile, shaking his head 'no'. As she scooted over towards the middle of the bed, Sam sat next to her, and placed his hand on her thigh in a sense to reassure her. "You okay, Sam? What happened?" She asked, worry lacing her voice in response to his body language. She could tell he was upset, but unfortunately she couldn't read his mind.

"I couldn't do it, Y/N," He admitted, looking down at his hand over the simple white sheet. She was warm and even through the fabric he could tell how soft her skin was, invoking a feeling deep within Sam that he'd never allowed himself to feel. "I couldn't leave you."

"Where's Dean?" She asked, yawning and craning her head back against the headboard. Sam got the opportunity to admire her for that split second, looking down her simple tank top, and even noticing how her throat was pretty. Then, Sam started to think about what she had said. Dean. Why was she always so worried about Dean? It was clear to everyone who met the Winchesters that Dean was her favorite big brother and here Sam was, telling her that he came back for her, and she was asking about Dean. Even though he should be used to it by now, it still makes his blood boil.

"He's pretty pissed with me so I'm sure he's off at some bar," He explained, looking down to admire his hand on her again but then she shifted. When Sam looked back up to gauge her reaction, she looked down, and Sam's heart began to race. Fuck, maybe she had found him out.

"Why is, uh, why is Dean pissed?" She stuttered getting out, swallowing hard. Sam's eyes follow hers but every time he's about to catch them they stray away. She's nervous, her leg is no longer under his hand, and her entire body is tense. Sam needed to think of something and something quick.

"I really don't want to talk about it," Sam said, looking back down, fighting back the smile on his lips as he saw her body relax. Nobody knew Sam better than she did and Sam figured if he continued to act closed off- she wouldn't pry or ask any questions, he was right. When he looked back up, she gave him a sad smile and reached up to swipe a stray hair out of his face. Sam leaned into the touch, his hand coming up to hold her wrist there, and relished the way her soft skin felt on his face.

"Sam, really, are you okay? I figured Lucifer would at least send some demons after you. You know with the whole Detroit thing." Y/N pried and Sam loved that her only question was to ask if he was okay, that he could pull off.

"I'm okay. I just couldn't leave you," Sam gave her a soft smile. When her hand dropped down, Sam held it in his own and ran his thumb over the back of it.

"You're so sappy," She teased, laughing lightly, and Sam shrugged his shoulder nonchalantly. "But we talked about this. Dean and I will be fine, you don't have to worry about us. I just- I don't know what to say." She frowned, looking down, and then looking back up to Sam. "You get that this isn't about us, right? We have had some really shitty plans on how to deal with Lucifer but this is the best bad idea we have so far. And I don't want to say that I'm upset that you didn't say yes but we need to think of something, and we need to think of something quick." She gave Sam a sad look.

"Yeah, I get it," Sam sighed aloud and felt her grip onto his hand. "I needed to say goodbye first."

"We said our goodbyes, Sammy. Hell, I was with you when you drank all of that demon blood," She laughed quietly and Sam gave her a small smile. He took a leap of faith and leaned over, kissing her hard until her head hit the headboard lightly. His lips moved around her still ones, his hands moved up to cup her face, and she didn't move for a few seconds. Once she began to tense up, Sam held her face from straying towards the side, and kissed her more hungrily. Her hands moved up and grabbed his wrists softly, pushing them off of her, and she pulled her head back away from him. "What was that for?" She asked softly, wide eyes staring back into Sam's lustful ones.

"Part of my goodbye," Sam told her, diving back into her lips. She was more prepared this time, struggling as Sam held her wrists in place on the bed, and she tried to turn her head away from him. Sam kept her held there, kissing every bit of her face that he could reach, enjoying the small whimpers that fled as she fought against him.

"Sam, we can't. I don't want to," She pleaded when she turned her head to the side. Sam didn't listen as he used this opportunity to kiss down her neck, nipping at the soft skin, and leaving marks that would form over the next twenty-four hours. "Sammy, this isn't right. You have to stop." She tried pulling her wrists away from his grip, but he wouldn't give. Her knee came up, pushing against Sam's ribcage, and she got a good jab in that made him pull back.

"You don't love me?" Sam asked in a pout and she looked at him with eyes wide and filled with fear.

"I do, but I don't love you in that way. You're my brother," She frowned, tears welling at the brim of her eyes. Sam looked down, sadly, as he was beginning to realize that he was going to have to force her. "I'm not mad, Sammy, I swear." She said softly, using her fingers to push the hair out of his face.

"Please, Y/N," Sam begged, looking up as she gulped nervously. Sam noticed how even though she seemed so scared, she was still gentle and caring about how Sam was feeling, it only made him want her more.

"No, Sam. I'm sorry," She told him. He watched as her lip trembled and fresh tears fell down her face and frowned to himself. He took a deep breath, swiftly collecting her wrists again, and climbed over her small body. She fought much more this time and Sam could taste her salty tears on her lips, drinking them in like water. Sam sat on her thighs to keep her legs down and her fingernails began to dig into his forearm as he continued to attack her mouth with his.

"Stop struggling," He told her firmly, almost in a growl, and she whimpered in return. When he reached down to kiss her again her teeth dug into his bottom lip, drawing blood and making him pull back. "Bitch," Sam muttered, using his fingers to wipe the blood off of his lips. She made use of her free hand to push against Sam, but he wouldn't budge. She was crying a river and when Sam's hand reached up and wrapped around her throat, she stopped moving altogether.

"You're not Sam," She said, her voice shaking, as she looked back up into his eyes. Sam grinned at her cockily and her eyes squeezed shut as he applied more pressure on her neck.

"What gave me away?" Lucifer asked in Sam's voice, whispering against her ear, and feeling the chills that ran down her body.

"Sammy would never hurt me," She choked out, crossing her arms over her chest for protection. She didn't bother pushing against him, it would be no use, and Sam was internally screaming at Lucifer to stop.

"You sure about that?" He checked, chuckling deeply. He placed a wet kiss along her jaw line and she choked out a sob, trying to curl her knees up to her chest, but he was too heavy for her to do so.

"Please, don't do this," She said in a small voice, grabbing onto his wrist and trying to loosen his grip. He let go of her neck altogether and she gasped out for air, then his fingers danced against her collarbones. He admired how pretty she looked in her tank top, how plump her lips got from the way that he sucked on them, and he couldn't wait to see the faces she made when he fucked into her. Sam knew what was coming next and as much as he hated to admit it, it felt good to finally let go.

•••

"I'm inside your grapefruit, Sam. You can't lie to me. I see it all- how odd you always felt, how... out of place in that... family of yours," Lucifer smirks in Sam's body in the mirror. Sam's biting back, trying to block him from seeing everything, trying to claw his way out. "That's not how you're supposed to look at your sister, Sammy." Lucifer chuckled lightly, shaking his head from side to side.

"Don't talk about her. Don't even think about her. I'm going to rip you from the inside out, do you understand me?" Sam threatened through gritted teeth.

"Sam, I've had some messed up thoughts about my family too. I mean, seriously, I'm using your meatsuit to try and kill my brother. But this? This isn't even something the Devil himself wouldn't think about." Lucifer joked and Sam's fists were growing white from holding all of his anger inside. "Baby sister, Y/N. Who would have thought she's what turned your gears at night?"

"No, that's not true," Sam said in a desperate attempt to flip the script, but he couldn't hide anything. He couldn't hide any of his dirty thoughts about, Y/N, or about the fact he had dreamt about being inside her. He couldn't hide that he wondered about whether or not she'd be quiet when he fucked her or what she tasted like. He couldn't hide that he imagined her face as she came undone around him and he couldn't hide how he'd never wanted anything more than he wanted her. But Sam had never advanced on her, ranking it down to a dirty fantasy, and she'd never shown any interest.

"It is. And here I thought having all of Azazel's gang to kill would help you blow off steam," Lucifer scoffed, turning his body so Sam could see all of the people throughout his life that terrorized him. He recognized every one of them, from teachers to his prom date, but he was more angry about the fact that his cover was blown about Y/N. "Or maybe you'd prefer something else I can offer." He chuckled deeply, turning back to Sam. Sam swallowed hard, increasingly worrying about Y/N since he wasn't in control of his body anymore.

"I don't want anything from you," Sam spit out, his face white-hot with anger. The look in his own eyes as he stared into the mirror was something that Sam had never seen before. They were his eyes, yes, but Lucifer had installed a different kind of lust that Sam didn't recognize.

"Oh, come on, Sam. This is your one opportunity, using me as an excuse to fuck your little sister. She'd never blame you. I just want you to be happy and these pawns just aren't going to do it for you, are they?" Lucifer tsked and Sam tried harder to claw his way out, but Lucifer was too strong. "I can put a good show on for you, show you what you've been dying to see for all these years." He offered, but Sam didn't let the thought become a possibility in his head. He wasn't going to do it like this. "Remember when she grew breasts? Like overnight? That's when you started to look at her differently. You stopped thinking about her as a little sister, just a hot fuck, and you felt so sick." He said, bringing back Sam's old memories. Sam was too angry to reply, he stared into the mirror with angry silence and furrowed brows. "But then you didn't feel sick anymore, isn't that right? You even accepted the fact that you wanted to fuck her. You've been dreaming about it ever since. Even when you were with Jess. Used her and pretended she was your baby sister, how naughty."

"Stop talking," Sam shook his head angrily, he couldn't hear the truth anymore. He didn't want to be the person that Y/N thought of when she thought about how fucked up her life was, he didn't want to hurt her more than she was already hurting.

"Denial isn't going to get you anywhere, Sammy," Lucifer had let out a low chuckle, deviously smiling at Sam through the mirror. "Bet she's so tight. Bet she plays with herself every night, maybe even in the same bed as you. Bet her scream is so pretty." He taunted and Sam tried his hardest to not think about what he was saying. But Sam had often thought about these things. He knew that she probably was tight, knowing that she hadn't gotten much action since being on the road with her brothers, and he couldn't stop his mind from wandering. "Big day is tomorrow. I say we make a pit stop at the motel, maybe she'll be all nice and ready for you, Sam."

•••

He drank up every bit of her. Both Sam and Y/N's clothes were on the floor, hers shredded and long forgotten, as she cried underneath him. It was more of a silent cry now, small whimpers, as Sam's painfully hard cock dragged in and out of her. Her body was so tense it made her cunt tighter than Sam could have imagined, and he hated himself for enjoying it so damn much. She was almost lifeless, laying there and letting him take what he wanted. Small whimpers, Sam wouldn't dare call them moans, fled her lips and Sam desperately chased his high- more so for her than for him, despite how insanely aroused he was. Her fingernails were digging into his forearms and she had her head turned to the side, too ashamed to look at Sam as he assaulted her.

Sam hadn't realized that he was crying until he saw his own tears on her naked chest. He couldn't bare to look at her face, realize how much he was hurting her. He couldn't think about the fact that, if he made it out of this alive, this would be the first thing she thought of. She would never look at him the same, if ever again. She wouldn't ever trust him, she wouldn't be happy to see him, and she would never love him again. It was killing Sam and he, too, had stopped his internal fight with Lucifer. He stopped clawing inside his own head, knowing that Lucifer was too strong, and began to let himself feel whatever Lucifer wanted him to feel.

"Sammy, it's okay. It's okay, I'm okay," She sobbed and Sam finally looked up to see her face. She brought her hands up to cup his face, wiping away his tears with her thumbs. Lucifer took his opportunity, knowing Sam could see everything, as he thrusted into her harder than ever before. She cried out, biting her lip, and closed her eyes shut as much as she could.

"I'm sorry," Sam croaked out, feeling the way his body was moving involuntarily and betraying him. She couldn't hear him, he knew that, but he needed to say it. He needed to know that he wasn't actually enjoying this, he needed to know that it wasn't his fault. She was hurting and Sam couldn't fathom that it was his fault. His body fell down and pressed against her, burying his face into her neck as he wrapped his arms under her head. Sam wouldn't dare call it a moan, but with the new angle she had let out a noise.

"It's not you, Sam. I know that. I love you," She whispered in his ear, wrapping her arms around his back. She held onto him tightly, pressing him against her body more than he already was, and began to whimper uncontrollably. Sam almost felt safe in her arms, like it was a hug, and tried his best to focus on the way she held onto him. His hips were rutting into her at an unforgiving pace, with no sign in the future that he was going to come undone, and he continued to tell himself that it wasn't his fault. He'd never to that to her. He'd never hurt her. This wasn't him. He would never make her do something that she didn't want to and he appreciated that she was still so caring, even though it was his body that was attacking her.

Sam groaned loudly when she wrapped her legs around his waist, the heels of her feet pushing him deeper inside of her. She had let a string of fucks come out of her mouth and she was holding onto him as tight as she could, Sam could feel her walls clenching around him more sporadically too. Sam hated that he felt pride, knowing she was close, knowing that she was about to cum on his cock, but something about her being satisfied made him happy. The thought made something in his core rumble and each thrust was feeling better and better- he was close too.

"Fuck, Sammy," She let out in a breathy voice and Sam couldn't help but groan at her words. When her legs began to shake and her teeth sunk into his shoulder, masking all of her moans of pleasure and hints of disgust, Sam began to fuck into her harder. It felt so twistedly good to feel her clenching so hard around him, that his cock was the thing she was cumming on, Sam was even starting to enjoy it. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," Y/N whined, trying to catch her breath. She was letting out guttural moans from her throat, squirming underneath him, and Sam was loving every second of it. He was so close to coming undone as her legs fell to the bed and Sam began to miss the way she was pushing him into her, but she still held onto him with her arms.

"Come on, Sammy. Cum for me," She encouraged in a whisper, making Sam's eyebrows furrow in pleasure. He knew that she was only saying these things so that it would stop, but Sam used it as a push to his release. Or tried to, just as the guilt began to push its way in his mind. He couldn't help but let his thoughts trail off. She'd never forgive him for this and Sam could never forgive himself either.

Y/N had sensed that Sam was tensing above her, rejecting what his body wanted so desperately to do. When she had came, Sam's body began to tremble and she knew he was close. Now, he was tense and his thrusts were harder, surely bruising her core, and almost threatening to bring her to the edge agin.

"I'm sorry," Was the first thing that she had heard from the actual Sam all night and it was so quiet she wasn't even sure she was meant to hear it. She knew that he still had to be in there and as much as she was hating what was happening, hating that her body had betrayed her, she knew it wasn't Sam's fault. He was merely a pawn for Lucifer and as to why he had chosen to do this to her, she had no idea- but she knew there was only one way out of this.

"Want you to cum for me," She told him, beginning to emphasize the small whimpers and moans that were already leaving her mouth. Y/N wasn't sure if that would make things worse or better- hearing his baby sister say those things to him- but Sam had let out a deep moan and she knew he was beginning to relax. "Cum inside me, Sammy. I want it." She lied, feeling disgusted with her own words, and Sam began to moan louder.

His thrusts began to get sloppier and harder as he began to feel his cock twitch inside her. She was still pulsing around him, her cunt trying to milk him for all his worth, and soon enough his hips stilled. Y/N felt immediately relieved and somewhat nauseous, knowing that her big brother had just cum inside of her- but it wasn't really him. Sam would never do this to her- he'd never want to do this to her. He gasped out for air, a long groan following, as he came inside of her- pushing his hips up inside of her as much as he could. "You did so good, Sam." She praised in a quiet voice, her fingernails rubbing up and down his back. He panted into the crook of her neck, holding onto her, and smelling her hair. But the moment didn't last long and he felt his body sit up.

His fingertips reached out and touched her forehead, and Sam watched as she fell asleep. He climbed out of bed, pulling the covers over her naked body, and began to walk to the other side where his clothes were at. He quickly pulled on his underwear and his pants, looping his belt through the holes and securing it. Sam grabbed his flannel off of the floor, heading for the bathroom where Lucifer could talk to him.

"How's that for a goodbye?" Lucifer chuckled cockily and all of Sam's anger fled back into his body. It was a mixture of guilt and sadness, hating the way that her words were the ones to push them over the edge- that he had wanted to hear that kind of praise from Y/N for so long.

"I'm going to kill you," Sam muttered seriously, looking into the mirror at himself. His chest was glistening with sweat and he could see Y/N lying in the bed behind him. He was the most angry he had ever been in his entire life but seeing Y/N peaceful and asleep brought some sort of serenity to him, at least he didn't have to kill her.

"Relax, kid. She won't even remember it," He smirked at Sam. "But you will." He smiled and Sam grunted, annoyed with all of the stupid comments, but most of all relieved. If what Lucifer said was true, she wouldn't remember it. She wouldn't resent or hate him for what he had done to her, she would still love him.

He began to feel sick with what he had just done, but he tried to remember what she told him. It's okay, I'm okay. It's not you. I love you.

"You know, I didn't even move for the last minute or so. That was all you, Sammy,"

[casifer-is-king]

Crest and Trough

Part Three of PI!Frankie (Part One) (Part Two)

Pairing: Frankie ‘Catfish’ Morales x fem!reader

Rated: M

Warnings: It's smut. Literally all smut and fluff. P in V Sex, Oral (female receiving), Frankie taking control (this is a warning, you can't tell me differently) Idk, if there's something I missed call me out.

A/N: There is no more plot, only smut. My first ever posted smut. Be kind 🥺 but also give me all the feedback lol. This is cross posted on AO3 under my username BlondiMarie.

The drive from Benny's fight back to your condo is filled with the sound of the radio playing. There's a tension in the cab of the truck; not so much nervousness as anticipation. A sexual tension that both of you had previously locked behind friendly banter and fleeting glances had now been released between the two of you. Frankie's fingers are flexing and regripping the leather of his steering wheel over and over again the whole way, only letting up once he is finally parked in your driveway. He's helping you out of the truck within moments of parking, and you lead the way straight into your house from there.

Frankie grabs your face in both of his large hands as he kisses you. You barely have time to close your front door behind you when he pounces on you, melding his mouth to yours like a man starved.

He's leading you into your living room, walking you backwards toward the couch with expert skill considering he had only been in your new home a handful of times.

Frankie's lips leave yours, but he is still only a breath away so you try to follow him with a little whimper. The action pulls a smile from the taller man, and he looks down at you with fondness pooling in his deep, dark eyes.

“This isn't too fast, is it?” he asks you, eyes turning serious and searching.

“I've been waiting a month for this. It is definitely not too fast, Morales.” And it was too true. Though maybe some of it was your fault - you could have always made the first move, been the one to grab him and beg him to kiss you or touch you or anything - but it was always so hard to get a read on the man in front of you. He's taciturn, never giving anything away and never being too forward. Always just a little bit shy and a lot respectful.

But now, with your consent, Frankie dominates your mouth with renewed fervor. His arms hold you tighter and you can feel his muscles rippling from under his shirt, which you instantly push over his head and throw behind you. His newly exposed skin becomes the subject of your exploration. He's still firmly muscled, but his abs have been covered by the barest hint of softness that you can't wait to get your mouth on.

Before you can carry on that train of thought, one smooth movement later and Frankie has your back pressed into your couch. A few slight adjustments and you are sprawled across the cushions with his body hovering over yours.

He continues to kiss you, long lingering swipes of his tongue against every inch of your mouth, as his broad hands begin an exploration of your body. He's pushing aside and discarding articles of your clothing as he goes along. Your shirt and bra come off and your nipples harden in the chilled air. Frankie finally releases your mouth to focus on the buds, which sends bolts of electricity straight to your sex.

Frankie is working on ridding you of your pants next, but he's so distracted by lavishing your breasts with equal attention that his usually steady fingers are fumbling. Helping him speeds up the process and in moments you are completely naked with Frankie kneeling between your legs.

His deft hands are no longer stumbling as he reaches down to collect your slick on one finger, dragging it up to rub your sensitive bundle of nerves. The moan he pulls from you spurs him on and he rewards you with a few more rotations of that finger around your clit before he drags it back down through your folds, dipping into your slit.

Obsessing over Frankie's hands and fingers is one thing, but it's something else completely to feel even one of those thick digits as it sinks into your heat, followed immediately by a second one. You can feel the stretch as he pumps his fingers into your body a few times, then suddenly twists them toward that sweet spot inside you. He finds it immediately and you drop one of your hands over your mouth to muffle the loud noise you emit.

“Don't do that, cariño. I want to hear you,” Frankie says, pressing into that delicious spot again. When you don't respond, lost in the waves of pleasure washing over you, he stops all movement and shifts to tower over you. “I said move your hand and let me hear you, dulzura.”

His voice is soft, but the command behind it is clear. You clench around his fingers at the sound and promptly move your hand to your side.

Once Frankie is assured that you have complied, he moves back to his spot between your spread thighs, this time dipping lower and lower. Open mouth kissed against your belly, hip bones, your thigh, and finally directly on your clit.

“Let me hear you, now, mi amor,” he reminds you one last time before his tongue is flicking over you.

He drapes one firm forearm across your hips to hold you down, then re-inserts two fingers into your heat. With his mouth and fingers working in tandem, he has your orgasm building quickly.

You faintly wonder if anyone has ever been able to build you up so fast, but before you can give too much thought to it you feel the pressure give and you're gushing your climax all over Frankie's fingers and tongue.

“Maybe we should test the bed, now,” you smirk once Frankie has worked you through your peak and allowed you to collect yourself. He is currently pressing kisses to any skin he can reach, but you can feel his mouth curve into a smile at your suggestion, mustache tickling you and causing you to twitch.

His arms wrap around your body in the next moment and he lifts you off the couch, your legs wrapping around his waist as your mouths meet again. The kiss is deep and slow, and can still faintly taste yourself on his lips as he carries you down the hall and straight into your bedroom. He drops you onto your bed with a tiny bounce, then stands up straight and looks down at you, eyes melting dark chocolate.

You feel shy under the scrutiny, reaching up to cover yourself.

“No, hermosa. I want to see you,” Frankie directs.

You bite your lip and open your legs for him, hands dragging down your body, and Frankie watches with lustful eyes as he undoes his pants. He pushes his jeans and underwear down his thick thighs at the same time, causing his hard cock to spring out and stand at attention.

Your mouth waters at the sight and you find yourself clambering onto your knees so you can kiss him again, hands exploring the soft skin of his torso. Your fingers find the top of a scar and follow the long, thin line downward toward his hip bone. You lean down to kiss the scar and his hand drops to rest on your head. He doesn't command your motions, simply lets his fingers caress over your loose hair, so you carry on your downward trail, following his patch of curls to the root of his manhood.

You want to go down on him, but he stops you, using the hand in your hair to gently lead you away and back onto the bed. "Next time, hermosa." His fingers are caressing your still dripping core, barely pressing inside of you at each swipe. "You're so wet for me. Right now I just want to be wrapped in this pussy."

There's a moment of readjustment as he crowds you farther up the bed and you reach over into your nightstand to pull out a condom. You roll the rubber over his hard length, giving it a few firm strokes as you note the girth of it in your palm, fingers not quite meeting around him. Then he's impatiently pushing you back and caging your body under his.

His mouth hovers over yours as his this cock presses slowly into you, stretching you deliciously. Once he has fully seated himself deep inside of you, he latches his mouth to yours, tongue invading your mouth roughly to fight with yours. And then he's moving his hips again, pulling out slowly, then pushing forward with a smooth snap of his hips. He starts a rhythm that instantly has you gasping into his mouth.

Frankie leans up, straightening his back so that he is looking down at your full body and spreads your legs further apart. One of his hands spans across your ribcage as he ruts into your core. It continues over your stomach, up your sternum and comes to rest on the juncture of your neck and shoulder.

He bites his lip and his eyes slide down to watch where your bodies are connected as he snaps his hips into yours again. The new angle hits a spot inside you that has you seeing stars and the overwhelming sensation pulls a gasp from you.

Frankie's warm hand moves to cup your jaw, his thick thumb slipping into your mouth. You instantly wrap your lips around the digit and suck, pulling a haggard moan from deep in his chest. His strokes become hurried as he pulls the thumb from your mouth and moves it to your clit. The added sensation causes your eyes to roll back and your peak comes quick and blinding.

Frankie pumps into your clenching cunt three more times before he follows you over the edge, cock twitching deep inside of you.

You're boneless on the bed as Frankie carefully slips out of you with a few sweet kisses on your lips. He leaves your line of vision, but you let him do his thing while you attempt to put yourself back together after being so thoroughly taken apart. Moments after you hear the sink run in the ensuite, you feel the bed dip again and Frankie gently presses a warm cloth to your skin. Once you are sufficiently clean, you grab him by the wrist and drag him back to your side.

He follows easily, settling beside you and engulfing you in his strong arms as you roll into his side. You are stroking your fingers over Frankie's right hand, basking in afterglow when your fingers come into contact with raised scar tissue in the space between his thumb and index finger. Two thick lines about an inch apart.

You drag your finger over that spot several times, documenting the way his soft skin suddenly jumps to rough scar tissue.

"Slide bite," comes Frankie's whisper, like sandpaper in the smooth darkness.

You're not sure what he means, so you settle for a soft “Hm?”

"It's from pistols. The slide comes back and cuts the skin when I fire because my hand is too fat.” the former special ops soldier elaborates.

You gently raise his hand to your lips, gently pressing a kiss to the spot. “I love these hands,” you murmur into warm skin as you drift off. “I'm pretty sure I loved these hands the moment I saw you stirring your coffee in that café.”

In the cloudy verge of sleep, you feel Frankie's nose burrow into your hair, feel him intake a large breath. “You're everything I wanted from the moment I saw you,” is the last thing you hear before darkness overtakes and you fall into one of the most content night's sleep you've had in months.

[bbugyu]

no warning + xu minghao

he saw you laying there, swimming in his pillows, and suddenly he never wanted you to leave.

wc.2803 | smut, fluff, this is some real sappy shit, fuckbuddies to crushbuddies, artist/uni au, yall probably go to nyu or sumn, cursing, mentions of alcohol use, fem reader (sorry), realization of feelings mid-coitous, someone please stop me from writing more vanilla porn

suddenly just really needed to write this? idk man. based off the song sleeping in my t-shirt by zak waters! because apparently i only write fics abt boys getting turned on by their partner wearing their clothes.

*

"fuck, i am so not excited to walk home. it's so cold outside."

"stay, then."

you both had only just slipped your underwear on when the words came from minghao, and you watched as he settled back into his pillows and lifted an arm for you to lay under, a far cry from what had happened on those pillows less than five minutes earlier. you thought of his hand on the back of your neck, pushing you into the mattress while he fucked you silly from behind, and you decided you must still be drunk when you spotted his shirt hanging off the side of the bed, pulled it over your head, and settled into his side.

the two of you exclusively met under the cover of nightfall, but you never slept. an unspoken agreement, that the two of you used each other to relieve stress and fill a need, not for comfort or love. minghao was a man of few words. you never spoke to him much outside of quick conversations and whatever filthy shit he felt like saying while you were under him, but he seemed intelligent and kind. you met him the first time at a school run art show that you were both in. you really loved his paintings, and he made an insightful comment about the societal implications of your mixed media sculpture before you were dragging each other into a bathroom.

minghao was fun, you thought. you were compatible, probably, considering how good of a lay he was, but it had never even crossed your mind to let it go any further than that. you knew he felt the same way - minghao was someone that couldn't not be honest - happy to call upon you at 1 in the morning when he was feeling needy, or to come home with you when you ran into each other at a party, but always walking you to his apartment building's entrance or slipping out of your dorm room before either of you could even think about spending the night. he was candid. knew what he wanted. you did, too, and neither of you thought you wanted anything more than you had.

when minghao was suddenly ripped from sleep by his hangover, he winced into his palm and rolled out of bed. stumbling only once, he made his way to the bathroom to chug a glass of water and immediately take a piss. he pushed a thumb between his eyebrows to attempt to alleviate some pressure, a steadying hand landing the wall in the hall outside his bedroom.

he blinked and looked into his room, noticing the figure on his bed for the first time since waking. you were framed by the doorway, your beautiful curves barely hidden under his own shirt. the thin fabric cascaded down your skin in a way that made gravity look like an artist and you it's canvas. his cloudy brain felt clear, suddenly, and he struggled to understand why. minghao stared at your form, knowing full well that you could make his hot blood pump, but since when did you start making his heart race?

he closed his door behind him as quietly as he could. almost cautiously, minghao returned to his bed, pulling at the loose covers until they were over both of your bodies. he stared at your sleeping face for a moment, wondering if he had ever seen anything so beautiful in his life. his fingers itched for a paintbrush as he hovered over you, elbows planted on either side of your ribcage. you stirred slightly, and he shoveled a hand under your waist and pulled you into his chest, placing a gentle kiss on your cheek.

as you awoke, you squinted at minghao's ear, recognizing it but still slightly confused. you resigned to letting out a soft groan as his lips moved to your neck. "what's all this?"

"you stayed the night," minghao said, pulling back to let his eyes flick across your face, brushing your hair from your lips as your arms settled around his shoulders. the early morning light that peeked through his curtains made you think that it was far too soon after you had passed out to be awake again, but you thought it highlighted his features well. "you never stay the night."

you kept squinting at him, doing your best to remember the night before as your fingers carded through his hair. "you told me to."

the smile on his lips was brief, but didn't go unnoticed. he kissed down your jaw, expertly pulling a small noise of enjoyment from your lips, his fingers splaying under his shirt across your waist, feeling as much of you as he could before skating it over your ass and down your thigh. you gasped when he bit at the vein below your ear, causing your thighs to part just enough for him to slip his hand over your clothed core. you groaned again, wiggling your hips slightly as you stretched, still working through your sleepiness.

"are you not satisfied?" you joked, your voice laced with the fragments of a yawn. you felt his lips part on your neck, and you had half a mind to believe he was smiling as he slowly began rubbing you above the fabric of your underwear.

"i don't think i can ever get enough of you."

a low moan left your dry lips, and you bit at them as he teased you, gripping any part of him you could - his hair, shoulders, bicep. it took a moment, but your arousal woke soon after you. your limbs tingled in anticipation as his long, lean fingers ran across your slit, giving you less than you wanted. "minghao, please."

"shh," he brought his face to yours, planting a kiss on your lips between your whimpers. "patience."

minghao knew you. and he knew your patience was thin. even still, he enjoyed the noises that fell from you as he circled your clit, feeling the moisture gather at your perfect tight hole. swiftly, he pulled aside your panties and swirled his middle finger in your juices, pushing the prepared finger into you. you gasped, clutching him closer. "f-fuck."

he admired the way your eyebrows knit together, your eyes squeezed shut. he kissed along your neck again, making your curl your nails into the back of his neck, surely leaving crescent moon imprints as he pumped a finger into you, his palm rubbing against you in a way that made you squirm. your breath was labored, maybe still partially asleep, and you couldn't help the sustained moan that tumbled from your lips when he added his ring finger. you wondered, briefly, how a man's hand could feel as good as his. how he managed to park you right outside of an orgasm just by pumping a couple fingers into your vaguely sore pussy. 

and he kissed you. it wasn't the first time, of course, your mouths had been all over each other many times before. but the way he slotted his lips against yours made you whine, thighs squeezing shakily around his wrist. he slowed his pumping slightly, working your lips into the open mouthed kisses he craved from you. you gasped into his mouth, and he curled his fingers in you, pushing skillfully against his favorite spot of yours. your eyes opened, eyebrows raised and staring at him in awe of the feeling. he watched you a moment, hair splayed across his pillow, and wondered how many times he had underappreciated this view.

"h-hao-"

he kissed you quickly. "yes?"

"please let me cum."

he looked at the clock on his bedside table. "it's only six in the morning and you wanna cum?"

you pushed a frustrated closed fist against his chest. "you started this, you better finish it."

normally, your attitude would have earned you an extra five minutes of teasing and a stinging red handprint on your ass, but minghao found your blown out pupils and your sleep riddled gaze endearing. he kissed you again, curling his fingers as he pumped into you. you let out a squeal, hands moving from his chest to his shoulders to his neck, trying to grip any amount of him as you tried to hold on through your orgasm. you trembled as his fingers slowed in you, letting him place gentle kisses all across your face. you blushed, unused to the intimacy. if you were in a less dazed state, you would have commented on it, but minghao's palm kept you quiet as it unhurriedly rubbed against your almost overstimulated nub, fingers remaining in you.

despite your release, you ground against his hand, biting at your lip again. the corner of minghao's mouth quirked upwards, pleased with your responsiveness. "do me a favor, baby."

you blinked, your hands landing on his chest as he began pumping his fingers again. "what kind?" you asked, forcing the words out instead of the whines that wanted to escape you. 

"grab a rubber."

your hand immediately went to the table, feeling for the drawer handle. you peeked once to pull it open before shoving a hand into the abyss, fumbling for the familiar foil packet. minghao admired the way your chest rose and fell, the way your thighs moved slightly as he worked you up again. the way your eyes shone at him slightly when you successfully presented a condom to him. he chuckled lightly, his hand never leaving your core as he forced his boxer briefs down his hips. he pulled back until he was sitting between your legs, discarding his underwear. "you know where it goes."

your back arched at his fingers brushing against a sensitive spot before he helped you up, pulling you by the arm with his free hand, the angle of his fingers changing and pulling a wanton moan from your lips. with half lidded eyes, you ripped the shirt from your body, minghao's hand running up your side to caress a mound while you tore open the condom and rolled it down his length, hands lingering on the member as you felt your mouth water. he scissored his fingers in you before squeezing your thigh and pulling the fingers out. you watched, mouth slightly agape, as he sucked your juices off his own hand.

you hardly even registered him pulling your panties down your legs, but every part of you felt on fire as he pushed you back onto the bed, caging you in as he readied himself at your entrance.

you were gripping his jaw when his hips pushed into yours, and you moaned into his parted lips. "fuck, you feel good."

minghao would have returned the sentiment if he could think of anything to say, but his mind was blank as he sank into you, suddenly realizing that the feeling of you was much more intoxicating than any liquor he had ever had. he slipped his hands under you, lifting your bare chest to press against his, wrapping his arms around your body. you whined as he thrusted into you, his pelvis rubbing against your sensitive nub, your fingers grasping at his jaw and sinking into the hair at his nape as he groaned against your lips.

"fuck, hao-" feeling your breath, short and hot against his ear, was the only thing that made him realize his forehead had sunk to the pillow beside you. he attempted to compose himself, pulling back, pressing a hand into your hip and pushing into you slower than his previous pace. your hands stayed on his neck, and he stared down at you.

"the sun suits you," he said. and with only those four words, you realized that minghao needed more from you than your previously agreed upon arrangement. you also realized that you might need more, too. your fingers brushed aside the hair falling over his brow, and you pulled him back down to kiss you. despite the fact that he never asked, and you never responded, he knew your lips on his was a confirmation. the resounding yes you had given him was never vocalised, but he tasted it on your tongue as it fought with his, felt the electricity in your fingers as they dug into his hair and gripped at his shoulders. he knew it from the way your legs wrapped around his hips, pulling him even closer to you.

you gasped when his pace quickened slightly, the familiar coil winding tightly in your gut. "minghao," you whined, pressing your head into the pillow. "right there."

he let out a delicious low groan at the way you tightened around him, his hips almost stuttering to a stop just then. his grip surely bruised your hip as he held his own end back, continuing to roll into you until you were babbling against his lips, a white hot wave washing over your body. you quaked against him, and he held your jaw steady, foreheads together, as your tight walls milked him dry.

you were panting, staring up his eyelashes against his cheek. you had always thought minghao looked intimidating, even when he was laying you out. but, in this moment, as he opened his eyes slowly, all you saw was a boy finally giving into something he wanted.

he kissed you, his lips pressing gently against yours. you let out a small noise when his lips moved, letting your head fall to the side as he worked down your neck again. you whined as he slipped out of you, desperately trying to keep your grip on one of his hands as he sat up to trash the rubber. he laced his fingers with yours, his other hand running up your torso and his lips settling on the peak of a breast.

"minghao," you warned, gripping his hand tighter. again, you could have sworn you felt him smile against your skin as he worked his way down your body. he ran his hand down your thigh, pushing it to the side to open you up. "w-what are you doing?"

"nothing," he muttered against your inner thigh, slipping his hand from yours to push your other thigh out of his way. he placed kisses on your thigh in a line, pointed directly to your core. your hands gripped at the sheets, at his hair, anything they could when he licked a stripe up your slit. you moaned, your back arching off the mattress as he pulled your thighs over his shoulders.

his tongue gently lapped at your spent pussy, and it took everything in you to not squeeze his head between your thighs every time the tip of his tongue flicked against your clit.

minghao knew your body better than anyone. he knew your weaknesses and your sensitive spots. his lips felt like worship, and his hands ran up your body like he was making sure you didn't drift away. you wrapped your fingers around one of his hands, sighing when he laced his fingers with yours. "what did i do to deserve this?"

you caught a moment of eye contact when he looked up to you, giving you a bit of reprieve from his tongue against your core. "stayed over."

a laugh fell from your lips. "is that all?"

he ran his tongue through your folds again, eyes meeting yours. "be your beautiful self."

your face burned, partially from the state he had brought you to with his mouth, and somewhat because of the words that left his lips. a moan surprised you on its way out your lips as he slipped a digit into you, curling directly into your g spot. your knuckles turned white against his as he dug a third orgasm from you, your legs shaking helplessly as he held his tongue against you.

it took you yanking on minghao's hair before he pulled away from you, and you panted with your head buried in his pillows. "c'mere."

you didn't have to ask twice. minghao licked his lips and wiped at them briefly, licking his finger clean again, then wasted no time as he crawled back up to lay with you. your arms found his shoulders easily and he wrapped his around your torso, pulling you into his chest as he settled. your heart skipped a beat when he pressed a kiss against your cheek, and you wondered what the hell you had been doing keeping him as a booty call when he could make love like that.

"do you wanna get breakfast?"

you couldn't help but laugh at the sudden question.

"later, i mean," minghao clarified. "after more sleep."

"are you asking me out, hao?"

it was his turn to laugh, his hand running down your side. "uh, yeah. i am, i guess."

you smiled, your palm resting on his jaw as you kissed him. "i'd love to."

[daydream-believin]

The Never-Ending Roadtrip (Cavern Creeps)

SUMMARY: Reader joins Douxie in the quest for Nari’s safety. He’ll need company won’t he?  PART 8) Douxie is not having a good time, Nari is not having a good time, no one is having a good time.          start -> (part 1)  next -> (part 9) WARNINGS: swearing, lots of panic and anxiety, anxiety attack WORD COUNT: 2420 A/N: it’s becoming increasingly clear that i do not have any control over where the plot goes in this fic. i never have and i never will. seriously the outline prompt for this one was ‘some downtime in trollmarket’ idk what happened

Douxie opened his eyes. He had been having a dream in which he was lost in a series of caves. No matter how many walls he marked to keep track, he couldn’t remember which way he came from. The marks kept disappearing. He’d etch them with all his strength, and they would fade. The tunnels were endless. He was sure he was too far underground now. The oxygen was getting thin. He had to find the way back up. He had to. The others were waiting for him. His chest got tighter, his breaths shallower. Why was this so hard?

Turns out both Y/n and Archie were sleeping on his chest. No wonder dream-him couldn’t breathe. He wouldn’t move them. The gentle snores filled his ears. It was still late, or more, early. Doux wouldn’t be able to breathe well enough to go back to sleep without another strange dream, so he didn’t try. That was okay. He got a solid three hours in, and that was better than most nights. He felt relaxed in the embrace of his small family. Douxie listened to their breathing. It was cozy, snuggled with the two people who mean the most to him, feeling their heartbeats against his own chest. This is how it would always be, just the three of them. Three magic signatures. No one else in the room. Wait.

Douxie tried his best to keep from waking Y/n and Archie when he bolted upright. He failed. Y/n groggily took in her husband as his panicked gaze shot around the room. She didn’t know why he was panicked but it made her panicked. Y/n also looked around the room to help despite not knowing what she was looking for. Douxie gently nudged her off and moved Archie so he could stand up. Y/n reached her hand up to him, silently asking to be pulled up and Douxie obliged. As she stood to her feet, Y/n got another look around, taking in the whole of the room. Now slightly more awake, the gears turned and she realized what was wrong with the scene. Nari.

Bleeding balroths, they lost the veggie lady. The one person they were supposed to keep close, protect form the Order, or the fucking world will end, and they lost her. Granted, they were asleep when it happened, but still. They lost her. Douxie and Y/n burst out of the door with Archie in tow. Douxie had hoped Nari would have just been in the living room but nope he couldn’t be that lucky. Figures. He could feel his racing heart in his throat as the impact of what was happening settled in his chest.

Douxie quick as lightning scanned all of Trollmarket that his eyes could see. Nari was nowhere to be found. He could barely hear Y/n and Archie start calling out the forest spirit’s name above the incredibly loud screaming inside his head. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA. Merlin was going to kill him. The Arcane order wasn’t even going to get the chance to end the world before Merlin’s ghost strangled him right here and now.

They were running through the streets of the village, asking every troll they came across if they’d seen her. No luck. Archie couldn’t find her as he flew over either. Douxie kept checking shops over and over, despite Y/n telling him they’d been in every building already and he was looking like a madman. He was a madman. Dictatious was not any help. Beyond seeing the veggie lady leave the house, and not caring enough to alert Doux, he had no idea where she might be. At least now they knew she’d only been out for a little over half an hour. She couldn’t have left the settlement, could she? Could she? Douxie felt ice water flow into his veins.

A quick check of inventory and sure enough, no horngazzle. Oh, fuzzbuckets. FUZZBUCKETS! Y/n went off to acquire another horngazzle from Bagdwella, sprinting across the town, and leaving Douxie alone with his thoughts. The world was gonna end soon, and it would be all his fault. He knew he shouldn’t have trusted the forest child. He had a feeling she was going to have been his downfall, he just hadn’t expected it so soon, or like this.

It’s over. The Arcane Order will win. The universe will be destroyed. He will have failed the one thing he was supposed to be doing. He had one job. Merlin’s last dying wish. And he had botched it. His short reign as a master wizard would be incapsulated by failure. This was his fault. He started taking risks, he stopped listening to Merlin, he stopped studying, he started making his own path, and now he was gonna take everyone else down with him.

Douxie saw Y/n blast out of the shop and head towards the grand entrance gate. His chest felt tight, and he couldn’t breathe again, even though he didn’t have both a wife and a dragon weighing his ribcage down this time. He felt his own feet carrying him the direction of the gate to meet Y/n but barely registered the scenery going by in a blur. Doux barely registered Archie land on his shoulder and the dragon claws digging into his flesh as he watched Y/n drag the magic key across the cavern wall in an arch. If it had been any other time he would have enjoyed the cute little way she did it. She was like a ballerina, leaping as she made the motion. It was an effort to make the door taller so Doux could walk through it without hitting his head, and it worked. Good thing too, as he wasn’t paying enough attention to not when he absent-mindedly ran past her and out of the gate like he was on fire.

When Y/n caught up to the other two, Douxie was huffing and puffing hunched over while Archie made an effort to fan his brother with his wings. The dragon cool-off was not entirely effective. Douxie wildly tossed his head around as he visually searched the area around the river and bridge. His pupils were wide with fear. As scary as this was, it pained Y/n to see him scared like this. She knew he struggled with anxiety, and had even seen his attacks before, but this was amped up to an eleven. She didn’t like it.

As desperate as they were, with the time ticking away, Y/n decided what was best was to calm Douxie down before they did anything else. She pulled him close into her embrace, letting him rest his head on her chest. Her steady heartbeat was bringing him slightly back down to earth.

“Shhhh, I’m here.” Y/n rubbed comforting circles on his back. “Can you look up for me?” It took a moment, but Douxie managed to grant her request. His hazel eyes were still blown wide, haunted. “Good, good. Let’s take some deep breaths. Okay, can you tell me five things you can see?”

Douxie shifted, looking beyond Y/n’s back. “Uh,- river,, trash, in river,,- tree, other trees,, Archie, you.”

“Okay, four things you can feel?”

He breathing was starting to go back to its regular pace. “You,, your hands on my back,, Archie rubbing my legs- the wind.”

“Good. Three you can hear?”

Douxie straightened, his voice sounding a lot calmer, “the wind in the trees, the water in the river, Archie purring.”

This prompted Archie to purr louder in support. “You good now or do you need to smell?” Y/n chuckled.

“Yeah, I think I’m fine now.” Douxie smiled, albeit weakly. Y/n gave him another grounding hug for good measure. She looked past his shoulder as she squeezed, something catching her eye. She let go of her wizard and started off towards the trees behind him.

“Where are you going?” Y/n was a bit worried about how strained Douxie’s voice still was.

“Well,” She turned around to face him and gestured her hands as she spoke, “If I was a forest goddess, where would I be? The forest of course.” She motioned to the treeline. Yeah, she was right. That made sense. He caught up and grabbed her hand for her to guide him to wherever they were going. He needed to hold her hand. It was her left hand, he could feel the cool metal of the ring on her finger. That helped.

They desperately wandered through the trees with no luck. It’s not like they had a veggie lady tracking device. They should get a veggie lady tracking device. Perhaps disguised as a bracelet cuff. She’d like that it was similar to Douxie, so she’d actually wear it. Or maybe they’d just get one of those baby leashes. Bad little forest goddesses have to wear the baby leash of shame. Maye she wouldn’t mind it, if it was shaped like a teddy bear or something. They’d cross that bridge when they got there. Once they found her. If the Arcane Order hadn’t got to her first.

The couple passed so many trees they started to all look the same. Oak, river birch, river birch, oak, sugar maple, oak, oak, oak, river birch. Every now and then there would be a troll carving on a tree or a rock, that they could use as landmarks, but they still had no idea where they were anymore. Thankfully, it was impossible to get lost with Archie around. Speak of the devil, the black dragon appeared through the trees again, calling them over to follow him.

The cat-dragon led them along many twists and turns in the forest. Every now and then Y/n would catch glimpse of a deer trail, but no signs of humans. Douxie accidentally bumped his head on a tree branch because Y/n had pulled him along so fast he didn’t have time to duck. Okay, so Doux didn’t accidentally bump his head as much as Y/n had accidentally made him. It wasn’t that low. She had had no trouble with it herself. It wasn’t her fault he was a giant. He should think of that next time before becoming over six foot. After what seemed like a lifetime, the started approaching a small tributary of the river. A small tributary that a small forest goddess was kneeling beside.

“NARI!” Y/n couldn’t help but cry out in relief at the sight of Nari safe and sound. The loudness of Y/n’s voice startled the veggie lady, and she whipped her head around to see the others as the joined her. Nari’s expression of surprise quickly morphed into one of guilt, like a child getting caught with their hand in the cookie jar. While neither of them looked particularly angry at her, she thought Hisirdoux was a little worse for wear. She supposed she’d caused that. She was always causing trouble for others it seemed. Just in the last week she’d gotten two homes destroyed, several humans injured, and worst of all, Merlin was gone now. It was all her fault.

Nari wasn’t aware of the tears streaming down her face until Y/n was wiping them away. She had crouched down to comfort the little spirit, “Hey, hey now, it’s okay, none of us are mad. We were just really scared for a bit there. But its alright, Nari. We’re just happy you’re safe.”

The forest child tucked her face into the crook of Y/n’s shoulder. Douxie stood a distance away. Archie was perched on his shoulder once again. He shifted between his feet, feeling the soft earth and wet grass of the riverside. Doux couldn’t shake a certain feeling of uneasiness and his familiar sensed his anxious energy. He had his staff raised and all ready to go if the trees so much as shake in the wind. Nothing happened. But he was ready.

He knew it was irrational, but Douxie couldn’t help but feel like they were near. The Order. Something was off in the air. They needed to get Nari back underground fast. However, he was worried that such a thing wouldn’t stop them, and he would just be damning the trolls and their new happy settlement. He hadn’t been too sure before about the plans Y/n had for tomorrow, but now he was. They would be safer if they got to a heavily populated area. It would mask their scent. They had lingered in Trollmarket for far too long now. They would be overstaying their welcome big time if the Arcane Order showed up.

Once Nari had calmed down quite a lot and the tears had long stopped flowing, Y/n wanted to get to the bottom of the reasons for this little late-night escapade. She fixed a braid on the side of Nari’s hair as she asked, “Can you tell me why you decided to come out here.” She was careful not to word it accusatively, lest she upset the poor frightened spirit further.

“I- I needed to get out from there. It’s so cold. There’s no stars down there. The air doesn’t move.”

Y/n nodded to express her sympathy. “I understand.” She really did. Trolls were great, but the underground vibes just weren’t for everyone. It was easy to feel trapped in Trollmarket. Like the world was weighing you down. The cavern over your head going to collapse at any moment. She stood to her feet, waiting a beat before asking, “Do you think you can go back down there for a little while longer? I promise we’ll come back outside in the morning.”

Nari looked up and smiled, taking Y/n’s hand as she helped her up, “Yes. I think I’m ready to go back now. For just a little while longer.”

~ ~ ~

Once they were all safe and sound back in Trollmarket, Y/n was relived. It was early morning by then, and the sun was rising outside, but they still had enough time to get a few more hours in. She looked up at her husband. Bags under his eyes as always, she didn’t think he’d be able to fall back to sleep after all this, actually. A few more hours of cuddle time, then. They passed by the pub on their way home. That could help ease poor Doux. Y/n nudged him with her shoulder, “Wanna go get a pint or two?”

Douxie chuckled, “Nah, I’m not one for glug. It’s a tad too gamey for me.”

“How bout we make some chamomile tea once we get home then?”

“Oh, that sounds heavenly.”

[jeonsjiddies]

idk you yet | myg

Summary- Yoongi was enamoured by the quiet girl who sat in the corner of his coffee shop every morning. word count- 1.5k pairing- yoongi x reader genre- fluff Warnings- a little angst? a/n: for my lovely @excusemin​ ; weirdly in third person, idk what i was doing lol Based on “IDK You Yet” by Alexander23

Yoongi was enamored by the quiet girl who sat in the corner of his coffee shop every morning. The first time he’d laid eyes on her, he’d noticed how gorgeous she was and it caused his breath to get caught in his throat, and his voice to waiver. His cheeks flooded with embarrassment, but she only looked at him with understanding as she gave him the faintest of smiles. Her facial expressions made her seem a little unapproachable, as she looked a little angry but Yoongi learned that was nothing like who she really was. She had the kindest eyes he’d ever seen.

They sparkled even under the fluorescent lights of the coffee shop as she took her daily iced coffee from his larger hands, their fingers brushing only slightly but enough to light Yoongi’s entire body with electricity. She didn’t speak much, didn’t even really order anymore. Yoongi just knew what she wanted because she ordered the same thing every day. She came in at the same time, sat at the same table, with her headphones in and her head in the clouds as she sketched away in the same notepad.

She was a constant in Yoongi’s life that he didn’t realize was so comforting until one day, as he waited with her iced coffee, she didn’t show. Yoongi waited, he wanted for her to come, assuming she was running late, but when it was time to close and he hadn’t seen her, he felt his heart sink. He looked forward to seeing her every day.

He loved to watch her sketch her daily drawing, watching her eyebrows furrow in her focus and her tongue dart out to wet her lips as she concentrated. Yoongi was mesmerized by the action every time, willing himself not to envision how her lips would feel pressed against his own. He imagined they were soft and smooth and she would kiss just like her personality, soft but filled with passion. Yoongi would shake his head and remind himself that he didn’t even know her. But oh, how he wanted to. Yoongi had always been a man of few words, but he’d never been quite as shy as he was around her. Something about her just made him feel so nervous. She was beautiful, not just on the outside, but Yoongi could stare at her gorgeous face all day. There was something about her that drew Yoongi in, he could just tell that she was good.

Maybe it was the way the crinkles by her eyes looked when she smiled when small children would tug on her sleeve and ask what she was drawing. Maybe it was the way she held the door for strangers who were coming in as she was leaving. Maybe it was the way she’d leave little cartoon drawings on a napkin on her table. Yoongi wasn’t sure what it was but he knew she was special. She was kind. She was perfect. And Yoongi missed her.

He missed her shy smile, her adorable giggle. He missed the excited look in her eyes when she finished a sketch. He missed watching her work her magic on the paper. He’d snuck a few glances a time or two, and she was amazingly talented. How could he miss someone he barely knew? He wasn’t sure but being around her just felt… right. He wanted her near him all the time.

Four days went by and Yoongi was starting to get worried. Was she sick? Did something happen? He gnawed on his bottom lip as his mind whirled around all the worst case scenarios and anxiety ate at his being until he decided to do something. Was it against company policy? Yes. Was it creepy? Maybe. But Yoongi was going crazy. He pulled up her customer profile, as she usually ordered from the app, and looked at her cell phone number.

Taking a deep breath, he dialed it on his own. His heart pounded against his ribcage as it rang.

“Hello?” her sweet, if slightly confused, voice rang in his ears and it felt like all the tension left his body in that moment.

“Hello… Y/N?” he asked.

“Who’s this?” she questioned warily.

“This is Yoongi from the coffee shop on main street…” he coughed awkwardly, “I just… I haven’t seen you in a couple of days and I was starting to get worried and I wanted to make sure you were okay…” he rambled on.

“Oh. I uh, hadn’t realized you would notice…” she trailed off, “I have a little cold, and I didn’t want anyone else to catch it.”

“Oh! Are you okay? Do you need anything?” Yoongi asked, worry filling his chest.

“I’m okay, I promise! I do miss my daily coffee though.” she giggled, which was followed immediately by a pitiful cough.

“I can bring you one.” left his lips before he could think twice.

“Oh I can’t ask you to do that.” she immediately refused.

“I don’t mind. I get off soon. Unless that would make you uncomfortable. Which I get. This is weird. Oh god this is so weird I’m so sorry I don’t even really know you I was just kind of worried and I-” he panicked.

“Yoongi. Yoongi, it’s fine. If you want to… I wouldn’t mind the company? I just don’t want you to get sick.” she sighed.

“I’ll be careful. Text me your address? I get off at 6.” he offered.

“Okay. I’ll see you then.” she said quietly.

“See you.” he replied, hanging up the phone and clutching it to his chest with his eyes closed as his heart swelled.

At 6:00, iced coffee in hand, he ran to the local corner store to grab some chicken noodle soup, then set off to Y/N’s apartment. His heart was hammering in his chest and he smell-checked himself at least seven times on the way there, and ate a half a can of altoids. He walked up to her apartment door and took a deep breath, knocking gently.

When she opened the door, wrapped up in her fluffiest blanket, her face was puffy from her cold, but Yoongi thought she had never looked more beautiful. Her nose was tinted red from the amount of times she’d blown it and Yoongi’s chest clenched with sympathy.

“I hope you like chicken noodle soup too…” he trailed off, holding up the container.

“That’s so sweet, thank you Yoongi. Please, come in.” she stepped aside, those kind eyes he loved so much beckoning him closer to her.

He set the items down on her kitchen table and turned to her, wiping his sweaty palms on his jeans.

“Can I do anything for you? Do you need medicine?” he wondered.

She giggled at his nervous behavior and gestured for him to have a seat. She took out two bowls and separated the soup so they could both have some.

“Water? Coke?” she offered.

“I’m okay. I just had an americano.” he grinned.

She nodded and took a sip of her iced coffee, eyes rolling back in pleasure.

“Oh how I’ve missed these. You make them so much better than any other I’ve had.” she complimented.

Yoongi flushed at the compliment, and the two of them sat at her kitchen table, talking, laughing, and enjoying the presence of the other. The more Yoongi learned about her, the more he wanted to stay near her. She was strong and brave and funny and kind and generous. Yoongi found himself hanging on her every word, watching the way her lips moved and relishing in the way her voice floated through the air and seemed to caress him in warmth.

Yoongi had never felt like he belonged more than he did around Y/N. He felt at peace, like he’d finally found a place to rest his aching, tired soul. Her smile lit up the whole room, and he found himself lost in the seas of her eyes, which watched him as much as he watched her. Soon, she started yawning and the two had to bid one another goodnight, and Yoongi went home feeling like he’d left a piece of him behind in that apartment.

Weeks later, as Yoongi spent another late night in Y/N’s apartment, working up the nerve to confess to his new best friend, he found her sketch book lying open on her desk. He walked over and flipped it open, coming face to face with a drawing of himself, perched against the coffee shop counter with a grin on his face. Y/N walked into the room and dropped the bag of chips she’d left to bring him, her face red with embarrassment, mouth agape in shock.

“Yoongi, I can explain-” she began.

But Yoongi didn’t let her. He crossed the room and wrapped her up in his arms, right where she belonged and crashed his lips into hers. As she lost herself in the kiss and became pliant in his embrace, Yoongi found himself feeling like he was finally home.

[midnightmoonkiss]

Headcannons for Shouto meeting a beautiful forest fae.

A/N: Fae are always confusing creatures for me to fully grasp, I always mix them up with... fairies and such- I’m not entirely sure, but I don’t believe they’re the same thing?

I read up on a bit if folklore and such, so I hope this is sorta what you were wanting!

I really love mythical creatures and stuff so this was a fun thing to experiment with!

Also idk how to do headcanons so this is essentially a story in hc format,,,

S.Todoroki Meeting A Forest Fae

Perm. Tag List: @coupsieddori @desia2 @strwbrry-lia

Growing up in a castle, forbidden from traveling outside of the suffocating walls built from stone surrounding the smaller kingdom, books were Shōto’s source of adventure.

It paid to have libraries filled with tales and stories from around the world.

The sheltered prince was always particularly fond of tales pertaining to creatures one could only conjure up in your mind, creatures so far fetched they certainly couldnt be real

Then again, dragons were a thing, so who was to say that things like unicorns and sylphs werent real either?

It wasnt until the ripe age of 15 that he was permitted to travel outside of the castle, as long as he had his loyal knight, Izuku, by his side at all times

He didn’t mind that at all, they had been friends since childhood, he was glad they could go on his first adventure together.

Relief and exhilaration overtook his senses when the white horse he rode on finally stepped off the bridge and onto a dirt road

The air was so fresh out here, had it always been so crisp and clean?

He’d heard from Izuku many times before what outside the walls were like, but words couldnt compare to seeing what he was seeing right now.

A rare smile twitched at the corner of his lips, eyes brimming with excitement as they soaked in the line of bright green trees and wildflowers in the meadow.

Izuku nudged his shoulder with a playful smile, and together they rode off down the road, no clear destination in mind but the duties of returning before sundown pressing on their shoulders

Golden rays of sunlight filtered through the trees canopy above them, the sight, though plain to some, was nothing short of magical to him. It was like he was seeing the true beauty of the world for the first time.

The adventure ended up being short lived, time flying by far to quickly and slipping through his fingertips

Back at the false illusion of a ‘home,’ he did nothing but dream of going out again

And so he did

Day by day after his princely duties, he went outside the castle, even if he couldnt go farther than the treeline from lack of time, he always made sure to go out

He was never alone, Izuku or another new guard named Tenya would always come along with him

Some days he wished he could be by himself, relax like a normal teen, but he knew that possibility was nothing more than a mere hope

He was a prince, after all. Thieves were fairly common, known for attacking those entering or leaving the castle, so it made since everyone was cautious

A week after his 18th birthday, he slipped past his green-haired friends watchful eyes during a morning ride and traveled off on his own

Sure, his friend was worried shitless no doubt but the hammering of his heart on his ribcage as adrenaline pumped through his veins pushed him forward to ride just a little longer

Until... he came across a pond.

One he had never heard about before, one void from maps of the lands.

It was nothing short of breath taking, the waters shifting from teal to aquamarine, a halo of sunlight shimmering on the crystal clear water, revealing the grey and muddy brown bedrock underneath

Surrounding the water were a plethora of flora so vibrant in color he swore he’d go blind by their sheer beauty

Dew drops kissed at their delicate petals, wrapping the small cove in an aura of innocence

Hopping off his horse, he found himself in a trance, walking forward just to peer into the still water of the lake shimmering like a diamond.

His reflection was hazy, yet he could see his own childish glee in the irises of his eyes

He had never felt such relaxation and joy before, he hadn’t even noticed the strange amount of red topped mushrooms surrounding the place.

Letting his eyes flutter shut, he took in the cool summer breeze that blew past his face, flowing through his silky red and white locks.

“My, I’ve never seen a prince before.”

Gasping loudly from the sudden velvety voice whispering in his ear, he jumped forward, nearly about to grab his sword only to fall into the shallow waters of the lake.

Wiping the water from his eyes, the snapped up to where he previously was, only to gawk openly at the human, no- creature he saw before him

Vines and flowers were threaded in her hair, soft looking (H/C) locks fading to an earthy green

Small antlers sprouted from her forehead, covered in thin leather straps and glistening green beads

Pointed ears with feather earrings, nude covered by leaves seemingly hastily thrown together yet stitches from an experts hand catching his eyes

Her eyes held no pupil, (E/C) covering all of the white that a human would hold

(S/C) shining with what he could only describe as the surface of the water around him

Whats even stranger, large, translucent wings similar to that of a dragonfly sprouted from her bare back

This was definitely not a human, and yet, her beauty captivated him, despite being so otherwordly

He knew exactly what he was staring at, knew exactly what type of creature this was

A fae. A mischievous yet hauntingly beautiful being from a world other than this, mushrooms encircling an area being their highway from one play to the other

And yet, he was foolish, just now realizing he was indeed inside a fairy ring

He wanted to face palm, but his hands were still under water as he openly gawked at her. Or him. Or it. Whatever it was.

‘Don’t disrespect a fae.’ Was a warning he read in one book,

“May I have your name?” They asked politely,

‘Never ‘give’ them your name’ was another, ‘they’ll take you and your name.’

“Aiko.”

“You’re lying~” they teased, a smile on their glistening lips that looked far too alluring

“Alright, Aiko, what are you doing in this place, hm?”

What was he doing in this place? He didnt know. He stumbled upon it, and his heart pulled him forward. A strange connection formed in his soul and he couldnt let go,

“I was exploring and stumbled upon here.”

He gulped, back straight and body composed as well as he could manage whilst still sitting in the water, show respect or suffer the consequences of the danger of nature

“I apologize for not noticing this place was marked.”

“There’s no need to be sorry, little one.” They spoke with such kindness it was hard to decipher if it was a ploy or not. A hand covered in feathers and scales reached out to him, and on instinct, he grasped it, noticing how soft the feathers were and how a human palm set beneath them.

Effortlessly, they pulled him up from the water, droplets splattering on their bare, muddied legs

It was taller than him, wings fluttering seemingly happily as they smiled down, stepping aside so his feet could stand on dry ground again.

They were shoeless, he noted, thinly clothed and body covered in tattoos and words from a language he didnt speak

“You may call me (Y/N).”

“How do I know that’s you’re real name?”

“That is up to you to decide.” They giggled behind their hand

“My prince!!?” A familiar voice shouted in the far distance, his friend nearing his location

“Well, Aiko. Seems it’s time for you to go.” Though the statement was spoken in a teasing way, he couldnt help but shiver at the undertone of absoloute authority

Had he ever been so afraid yet captivated at the same time by the beauty of the forest in front of him?

“Yes..” he trailed off, looking back at his horse who stood tall and proud

“Do come again if,” they placed a finger on his bicep, “you’re ever,” they dragged their finger up his arm, across his clothed collarbone, “in,” dragging up his exposed neck, he could feel the sharpness of the claw sitting on her finger, “the area~”

Suddenly, you vanished in the oncoming breeze, leaving no footprints or clues that you were there in the first place

“There you are!” A voice cried behind him

He was quick to step out the large circle before Izuku stepped in, catching him on his wet chest as the clumsy knight tripped on a root

The ride back was filled with nothing but questions and rambles of fury

Sitting on his bed that night clad in sleepwear, all he could think about was what had happened

He went to sleep feeling oddly hot

The next morning, it felt like nothing more than a fever induced dream

How he had gotten sick was nearly unknown, medics assuming he had caught a cold when returning home in wet clothes he couldnt recall getting wet

One thing on his mind that never seemed to leave was the sudden fascination for ponds and fae

[berrykook]

bloom (demon!y!hs) (nsfw)

do not read if you are not into yandere fic! hs is a demon jackass pls save urself!

in which hoseok finds you in his garden and his love begins to bloom

contents: demon!yandere!hoseok, kidnapping, manipulation, oral (f receiving), sex!!! i gotta spoil it they fuck! and hoseok kinda says some...sub stuff idk :/

word count: 5.2k

a/n: thanks for the requests ! <3 i got off track from building this universe and i ended up sorta negating the law that demons and angels can’t interact buttttttt reader still kinda has a moral dilemma ? >.<

IMPORTANT before they start fuckin, reader has a moment of confusion and suspects that hoseok has intentionally magically warped her mind into consenting but that’s not the case reader is just dumb! thank u also i don’t know much about flowers or hell so i’m sorry if any info is incorrect :( lmk and i will fix immediately (and let’s pretend hoseok’s dog is a girl bc i didn’t know that until googling it for this fic)

and mb that this is coming a month after i said it would :( school is beating my ass hard anyways pls enjoy

*☆*ﾟ ゜ﾟ*☆*ﾟ ゜ﾟ*☆*ﾟ ゜ﾟ*☆*ﾟ ゜ﾟ*☆*ﾟ ゜ﾟ*☆*ﾟ ゜ﾟ*☆*ﾟ ゜ﾟ*☆*ﾟ ゜ﾟ*☆*ﾟ ゜ﾟ*☆*ﾟ

Hoseok once had a mother a mere three-thousand or so years ago and she named him well. His name fell off her tongue in a major key and rang across acres and through caverns. She never failed to say his name in gargantuan font to be heard across nations; the syllables “Ho-seok” had chimed through shadowy deserts of Hell, Heaven, and Earth for as long as he lived. Hoseok was always big and known - a beacon of diabolic energy; it was his birthright.

His mother was long gone, but remained in a photograph which he always kept on his person (demon?). It was supposed that even immortals had to walk forward into new lives after some time. His father had been around for around one hundred years after, and his sister had moved on when he was barely a thousand. The only companion of Hoseok’s, the only one left, was a shih tzu who followed him even when he treated her with indifference. Hoseok had great power and an abundance of Earth men who sold him their souls, but the loneliness which plagued him was indescribable.

“News for you, my Lord. Taehyung has declared he is but one sure meeting from stealing the Park soul for work to complete in the Circle of Fraud. He has said to be back in less than a fortnight.”

The assistant, doe-eyed and snake-tongued, stared at the wall behind Hoseok as he recited the news from one of hell’s most talented demons, who was currently on a sabbatical to inspect the soul of an Earth man with an itch to be with a woman he saw on the train a year prior. Taehyung had come bustling into Hoseok’s quarters one day, spewing gibberish about the perfect human to become his next target. Hoseok’s chest twinged a bit when Taehyung explained that this Park Jimin schmoe had been stalking this woman for months and was willing to practically sell his soul to be with her (enter Taehyung). “How wonderful,” he said wistfully, yearning for a perfect confidante like this Jimin character had found. At Hoseok’s glassy expression, Taehyung had to withhold a shiver.

Hoseok took a long moment to respond. He stared at his assistant, wondering if he, too, yearned for such a dream, or if perhaps he had even already found his match made in hell. The assistant’s nose twitched like a rabbit.

“Thank you, Jungkook. You may go,” Hoseok said apathetically. He robotically spun on his heels and exited Hoseok’s office with heavy footsteps. Hoseok stretched in his chair, debating if he should charm the assistant’s feet to grow dead and swollen and moldy to teach him not to walk so damn loud all the time.

The shih tzu yapped happily around Hoseok’s feet as he slowly rose from his desk to stare out the window to his left, which displayed miles and miles of lush greenery and delicate flowers of all colors. He conjured the garden around when his sister passed on. She, too, had an infatuation for infatuation and longed for a faraway place to water a romance. Once, they peeked into their father’s seeing portal as children and stumbled upon two lovers in a field of flowers.

(Hoseok did not possess his own soul, but if he did, it would be prickly and tar-like and scary. He was on the cusp of royalty in the underworld. He was evil.)

Still, Hoseok clutched the memory of those lovers in the flowers with tight fists. How magnificent it was to just be in the shadows of lovers. Oh, how the feeling crawled over him like a crowd of tarantulas. He was evil, and was sure he would never experience such a joy. At least he had his garden.

Hoseok felt your presence before his foot even touched the grass that day. He froze in the doorway for a moment, closing his eyes to sense where the intruder was. Within seconds, he discovered your exact location within the field that went on forever. He let out a breath as his feet hit the ground, now teleported a thousand miles from his home. He opened his eyes and choked for a second. His senses were going haywire - the grass was a million shades greener and the flowers seemed to bloom bigger before him. It was beautiful.

As soon as you became completely engulfed in the sickly red hot aura, you went ramrod straight and dropped the bundle of flowers in your hands. It filled every one of your pores and poured down your intestines like lava. You did not even get the chance to gasp - after the instant it came, it burned too much to inhale or exhale. You stared forward straight into the field, wondering how this spirit did not wilt all of the garden. You didn’t dare look in the direction it was coming from.

“What are you doing here?” Hoseok spoke finally after a long moment of thick silence. The typical malice in his tone had completely vanished. He was sure now - he loved you. “Angel...are you lost?” He thought about kneeling to get on your level, but hesitated, awkward in his actions. What was he supposed to do with his hands?

Slowly, you trailed your eyes over to where those awful vibrations were originating from. Your stomach twisted when you saw him simply standing five meters away. You became filled with an indescribable dread. A demon, horns and all, staring at you and speaking with tenderness. You began to blubber immediately.

“I’m so, so sorry, I-I was just looking for a f-f-flower I heard you had, oh, dear God, I’m so sorry!” You were inconsolable, dropping your head towards your knees in surrender. Just feeling him that great distance away put you in shambles. You were young and naïve, but you knew what happened to Heaven’s Souls that were caught sneaking in the Circles. Your cries only worsened when his aura became stronger and more painful with every footstep. You suddenly felt an overwhelming warmth on your back and your cries immediately halted like magic.

“Don’t cry anymore.” His voice seemed to boom even when he was trying his hardest to keep it soft. “Nothing is going to happen to you. Speak freely...tell me how you arrived here.” His hand trailed up your back to rest on your neck. He wanted nothing more than for you to relax against him.

“I-I was...searching for a flower. I had heard about a secret garden in the Fraudulent Circle...one with every flower to have existed. I-I’m so sorry. Please, have mercy!” You began sobbing again into your hands, holding them close to your face when you felt his gentle touch around your wrists. “I only died just last year…I don’t want to vanish, please!”

Your wails struck a tune in Hoseok’s ribcage like a kalimba. He grabbed your fearful face in his hands and wiped your tears with his thumb. You held your breath in shock at how gentle he was.

“Not a single soul has trespassed my garden and escaped vanishing.” Your bottom lip wobbled at that, and he ran a thumb along it to still it. “But you...sweet angel...I couldn’t dare do that to you.”

Your mind raced, knowing how clever demons could be and especially such a powerful one like him. He was devastatingly handsome - if you were still on Earth, you would have melted right into his hands.

His smile is twisted. “Lover...do you know who I am?” He stared down at you in admiration, rising a bit on his knees to hover over your face.

Slowly and fearfully, you shook your head. He pressed a ghost of a kiss on your lips as he turned to your ear and whispered softly, “Ho-seok.”

The hairs on the back of your neck stood straighter and your whole body erupted with goosebumps. You stared at him with wide eyes.

Hoseok. A name you knew of well, even when you were human. Hearing him whisper that name into your ear like that made your knees shake a second more rapidly. It felt as though the blue skies above had darkened into a hellish black hole. He chuckled at your terrified expression, smoothing your hair back with a burly hand.

“Are you scared?” He couldn’t help himself from asking. Your glassy eyes made him both sad and also weak-kneed. He decided in that moment that he especially loved to tease you.

You nodded again and Hoseok cooed, playfully squishing your cheeks a bit.

“You’re such a young one, aren’t you? Just a baby,” he mumbled, running his hands along your cheekbones, through your hair, across your forehead. Chills continuously crawled up your spine as he fawned over you like some sort of doll. You understood where you were going before you began your trip, but you truly felt it now - this was Hell.

“There is no reason to fear me. I couldn’t hold any malice toward a soul so beautiful...even better that you are an angel. I can easily arrange a place for you in my fortress if you so please.” Something in his tone warned you that it didn’t matter what you pleased. You gave a small nod, letting him take your hand in his. He held it to his face, inhaling deeply and pressing wet kisses along your forearm. “Really? You don’t mind sharing a space with a big, bad demon like me?” He chuckled darkly against your palm and you bit your lip nervously.

“No,” you murmured quietly. He was tricking you. You could feel it in your bones.

He smiled widely, also seeing completely through you. He knew then that he would need to put in some work to turn you over. He placed a hand on your back once more and leaned to bring his forehead to yours, and in less than a second, you had found yourself teleported to a cozy study with velvet carpets. Your stomach turned with anxiety at the thought of your friends and family not knowing where you had disappeared off to - you weren’t even sure if you were still in a Circle of Hell or some other evil place. Hoseok stood up slowly and brought you by the hand to behind his desk, perching you on his lap. 

“Tell me, angel, where are you from?” He conjured a brush out of thin air and ran it through your hair like he would a doll. You clenched your fists in an attempt to get your voice under control.

“I was told that I was the last of my family to die. They’re all up in Heaven, waiting for me.” Hoseok began to brush your hair slower. “B-But, it’s...fine, I guess,” you added quickly. The last thing you wanted was for Hoseok to grow suspicious of you. “I just...wanted to find a type of camellia. I love flowers,” you whispered. The feeling of his breath on your neck made you embarrassed. He laughed.

“Camellia? You should have just said so,” he beamed. Suddenly, his arm wrapped around your front to reveal the red blossom you had pain-stakingly sifted through the fields for. A soft gasp escaped you as Hoseok placed the flower in your hands, then wrapping his hands around your wrists. He seemed to like having that hold on you.

“Oh, it’s beautiful! It’s just how I pictured it,” you whispered in awe. You turned in his lap to face him, doing your best to ham up the performance to give yourself the best chance of survival. “Thank you, Hoseok.” You hoped that his doe-eyed expression so close to your face would not make your own expression drain of color.

“You’re welcome, darling...I can call you that, can’t I?” He leaned in closer to your face and you squeezed the stem in your hand to force yourself not to move back.

“O-oh...I suppose so, sure…” you said coyly. Hoseok’s smile grew wider and he slowly leaned in more, further and further, until his lips were pressing a kiss to your cheek. Your hope for escaping was decreasing exponentially as he continued to fawn over you and kiss your face. 

“Darling, tell me more,” he mumbled against you. “Talk to me about this afterlife in Heaven of yours. I want to know everything.”

You were sure that he was able to find out anything he wanted with just a lick of his magic, but you indulged him anyway. “Oh, I don’t know. It’s heaven, isn’t it? It’s...wonderful, actually. I missed my family for so long on Earth that it’s an indescribable feeling of being reunited once again.”

You did not lie - Hoseok would likely pick up on that before you could even pull the words from your throat, so you did your best to make your reality sound like something you held onto dearly. In truth, it was Heaven - nothing more, nothing less. Your entire family, along with every Godly person you had ever known was there to keep you company as you filled your days with...whatever it was you wanted to do. Heaven held your wildest dreams. 

Going spelunking to the Eighth Circle of Hell was the most interesting thing you had done since you died, but you knew that staying was out of the question, right? 

The needle of your moral compass twitched slightly.

“I...I miss them,” you mumbled sadly, playing with your fingers like a child. Hoseok remained silent and your heart picked up a beat as you couldn’t yet tell if he was seeing through you. He turned his head away from you, biting his lip.

“I see, angel...you would like to go home, wouldn’t you?” He looked to you again, reaching to cradle your face. You felt a profound force pulling you to lean in closer. Something about him felt right, and you were beginning to feel disgusted with yourself for it. His thumbs stroked underneath your eyes as he looked at you sadly. Your heart stirred unwillingly.

“I suppose I should...shouldn’t I?” You had to refrain from smacking yourself as the words tumbled out of your mouth like an avalanche. Ever since you were a young human girl, you had been warned of a demon named Hoseok and his tricks. You slept with a night-light for several years from the gruesome stories of him that lingered around your shoulders for long nights. You feared him, but a prickling feeling in your sternum somehow drew you closer. He pushed a strand of your hair behind your ear.

“Sweet angels like you belong in Heaven. You have your afterlife and I have mine,” he sighed wistfully. You leaned forward to rest your forehead against his. 

There was no explanation for this unsolicited adoration blossoming in your chest. You were never one to fall in love easily, but it felt like the walls were going to close in on you if you didn’t give in. Yes, you were fully suspicious now that Hoseok had done something to your mind to make it melt in such a way, but it felt so good that you didn’t attempt to fight it. Hoseok grinned widely, itching to use his magic but ultimately restraining himself.

You were correct from that first moment he appeared behind you - you were completely and utterly hopeless.

“Besides, who would want to stay with such an ugly, evil demon like Hoseok?” He scoffed, looking away from you pitifully. You gasped and dropped the flower so you could tenderly hold his face in your hands.

“Don’t say that!” He grinned sheepishly under your gaze. “I just...I was just saying...um,” you stumbled over your words, trying to remember why exactly you had to leave him here. Your family was waiting for you in Heaven, but they suddenly seemed so miniscule compared to Hoseok. You were torn between completely rejecting him and his demonic nature, and attempting to understand that nature and understand the soul he is. His aura had changed totally since you first felt it - you now could only feel the love he had for you. It was absurd.

“You don’t remember, baby?” Hoseok laughs and your blush deepens. “I thought you were so eager to get back home...can’t you make up your mind?” Hoseok continued to tease you, which made you feel as if you were up in flames. Your mind raced, unsure of what was happening. Hoseok was now kissing the pads of your fingers. He moved so slowly, but you felt as if time was advancing more quickly by the minute.

“My head is...foggy. I don’t know what I want,” you mumbled, grabbing his hand to place on the back of your neck. He smiles widely.

“I think you know exactly what you want.” Hoseok took one of your hands to place on his chest. You immediately started rubbing it, up and down in slow strokes. “Such a good little angel...you always have been, haven’t you? Married a good man, lived honestly as a florist...you’ve been so good…” Hoseok held your face by your chin and slipped a thumb into your mouth to run along your lower set of teeth. “Why don’t you let yourself run free for a night? Be a little bad?”

He slipped his thumb further into your mouth and you leaned forward so it would reach toward the back of your throat. Hoseok moaned at the feeling, smirking evilly. “Darling...don’t you want this?”

You closed your eyes and hollowed your cheeks, letting the pad of your tongue be pet by his thumb. He released it from your mouth with a wet pop.

The burning in your sternum spread like wildfire through you, and you knew then that you had to let yourself smolder. You had already thrown caution to the wind when you decided going to a flower field in Hell was more fun than being around the people you had already spent a mortal eternity with. Something about his aura had your head reeling and your core dripping.

Fuck it. You were already caught in Hell.

“Yes, Hoseok. I want this.”

Hoseok leaned in to place a tender kiss under your jawline and when you opened your eyes, you found yourself teleported into a King-sized bed with a thick red velvet comforter. Hoseok hovered over you, still suckling on your neck. Like a virgin, you fiddled with your hands for a moment before hesitantly placing them on his shoulders.

Hoseok chuckled lowly, pulling away to look at you and push your hair behind your ears. “You’re nervous. Don’t worry,” he murmured. He placed a kiss below your right ear and sent a quaking shiver through your spine. “There’s nothing to be afraid of.” Hoseok grabbed both of your hands by the wrist and held them slightly above your head against the fluffed pillows. Whatever sex dungeon he had teleported you to was perfect - the cool feeling of the velvet against your skin and the aroma of Hoseok’s devilish aura made your knees shake. Hoseok noticed this and ran his hands up and down your thighs slowly, lovingly. “You’re shivering,” he laughed. You turned your flushed face away from him. He continued to laugh at you softly before turning your face back towards him with his pointer finger. “I already told you once. If you wish to leave after this, I’ll send you back to your place in Heaven without hesitation...there’s no reason to be scared because I will do anything you ask.” He kisses you deeply on the lips. “That is how I feel for you, just after this short time together.”

His attention on you felt thick like molasses. He made you feel as though you were the center of the universe. This was wrong, and you felt it deep within you. Knowing this, you reached up to capture his lips once again and palm his cock through the dark silk of his pants.

Hoseok moaned happily and continued to kiss you again and again for what felt like forever. His tongue lapped over every crevice of your mouth at a painful pace before finally moving his hand to slowly thumb your clit. His movements were agonizingly slow - you assumed he wanted to preserve this moment before he sent you on your way home.

You let out a deep sigh into his mouth as he slowly, but harshly, stroked your clit and fingered the opening of your pussy and just a touch from your ass. He smiled over you as he watched and took in every facial expression and inhaled each breath of yours.

“Does it feel good? Please, please, tell me,” he moaned. You stared up at him in disbelief - he seemed on the edge of orgasming just from seeing you in pleasure. You had barely done anything but stroke his cock through his pants. “I need to hear you tell me it’s good.”

You smiled smally, reaching up to grab at his chin. “Yes, yes. You’re doing so good, Hoseok.” You fought back a giggle as he practically rolled his eyes back into his head at your minimal praise.

“Angel...please, let me eat you out...I promise I’ll do good, please just give me the chance…” He began rutting his hips against one of your thighs and you laughed out loud. At the sound of your laughter, he whined pitifully. 

“Are you sure you’re from Hell?” You laughed as he buried his face into your stomach, embarrassed. “Just get started so you can fuck me already.”

Things quickly took a turn for the stranger as Hoseok buried his face into your pussy and made completely lewd sounds of pleasure from this. He seemed to be enjoying this more than you and it made you feel both embarrassed and hot. The feeling of control made your lips tilt up in a sick smile as his grip on your thighs tightened with each moment.

“Y-You’re doing so well,” you mumbled after several minutes of Hoseok eating you out while trying not to cum in his pants. “S-so, fuck, good.” It was an odd game that Hoseok was playing, but you followed along gleefully. At your praise, he moaned loudly into your pussy and sent a shiver of pleasure up your spine. “C-come here,” you instructed, reaching to pull his head up towards yours. He let out a pant as he dragged himself up towards you, knuckles holding himself on the bed shakily. “Will you fuck me?”

Hoseok bowed his head to place a kiss on your sternum. “Anything for you,” he whispered, almost hissing like a snake. He guided your hand to stroke his cock for a bit, all while he loudly expressed and moaned for you. Heat continued to rise in your cheeks - Hoseok was scandalous.

“S-sweetheart, fuck, we have to start before I come all over your thighs.” You both laughed and he gripped your neck possessively, pressing a sweet kiss to the corner of your mouth. 

The pressure of just the first stroke had you rolling your head against the satin pillows. Hoseok seemed to be handling it in a worse way, as it looked as though he could already be finished in just a quick moment. You gripped his neck and pulled him closer before whispering to him, “How do I make you feel?”

Hoseok growled for a moment, before whimpering and burying his face into your neck. “Y-you’re a princess...fuck, fuck, I fucking can’t...a queen,” he moaned.

You threw your head back again as he picked up the speed of a jackhammer. He dove into you so deeply with such vigor and passion that you had no doubts he wasn’t mortal. Nobody but him could drill into you like this.

Hoseok reached down to get a grip on one of your thighs to perch on his shoulder. You moaned unashamedly and it made his pace jolt for a moment.

He continued fucking you relentlessly, occassionally turning his head to nip at your thigh. You turned your head to bring your gaze to the mirror in the corner of the room, proudly displaying Hoseok’s muscled back and his cock slipping in and out of you. You let out a breathy laugh and Hoseok began fucking you with everything in him.

“You like seeing yourself getting fucked? You look radiant,” he growled, pounding into you so hard you were bumped by the headboard. At a loss for words, you nodded, once again reaching up to hold his neck tenderly. He smirked down at you. “Ready?”

You let out another laugh, nodding eagerly. He smiled softly, too softly for a demon, and placed on hand on your pussy and one on your breast, all while keeping his inhuman pace fucking you. Just the touch of his hand on your clit had you in tears, but his skill in rubbing it tenderly had you screaming out. At the first sight of your tears, Hoseok came inside you almost immediately. The sounds filling the room were lewd, and the feeling of his cum filling your pussy and getting all over your thighs and ass held the same sentiment. Ever so slowly, he stopped pumping and delicately brought your leg to rest on the stained velvet. He kissed your lips slowly and lovingly for several minutes before wrapping you in his arms and just holding you close.

“You are perfect,” he spoke softly after the long silence. You drowsily looked up at him for a second before looking away shyly. “Tell me what makes you happy, and I will give it to you.” Another slow kiss to your lips. “Anything you’d like.”

You kissed back with hesitance, now eager to make your way back home after being held and kissed by him for nearly an hour of cuddling.

“I’m happy with the camellia.” You smiled and pressed a kiss to his jawline before rising slowly, looking around the room for a door.

Hoseok chuckled darkly, rising as well and holding your waist to bring you onto his lap. You protested, flushing deeply when he still planted your bare pussy onto his legs and let his remaining cum from inside you flow out back onto him.

“That’s not what I meant, darling.” He brushed a piece of your hair behind your ear and admired you closely. You looked away, twiddling your thumbs. “What is it that you would like in our living quarters? Would you like the flower shop from your mortal life, or perhaps the home you raised your children in? I could conjure another garden at the drop of a hat, sweetheart...anything you would like.”

His stare on you intensified as he spoke. Your heart rate picked up once he said “living quarters,” and you begged it to slow so he wouldn’t notice.

“O-oh,” you stuttered after a long moment. He kept running his fingers through your hair and it sent chills down your naked spine. “I’ve got everything I need at home...don’t you think it’s time I get going?”

You looked at him coyly, hoping he would keep his promise of sending you home afterwards. He laughed breathily and kept a large hand cradling the back of your head.

“You didn’t think I would actually let you go, baby?” Hoseok laughed out loud, throwing his head back. He pressed an urgent kiss to your lips. You did not return it. “You’re mine, even if you didn’t have my cum dripping down your legs. You were mine the second you set foot in my garden.”

You looked to him carefully and let out a nervous chuckle. The temperature in the room began to rise, though you stayed still on his lap. Hoseok’s smile deepened.

“I have to go home,” you whispered after another long silence. At this point, you were dripping sweat while Hoseok remained unbothered. “You said you would take me home.”

Somewhere inside of you had clearly known all along that making a deal with Hoseok had no way of ending well. You knew he would torture you and eat your heart for breakfast because Hoseok was a demon and that’s what demons did, and especially ones of his calibre - yet, you stayed. You knew he would end you, and you stayed.

“Darling...you’re so sweet.” He leaned in to whisper into your ear, “and stupid.”

In the blink of an eye, Hoseok had transported you to the desk chair in his office. He had dressed himself in a fine suit and yourself in a ruffled dress so white it hurt your eyes. You noticed now that his office was also decorated in that heavy red velvet. It made your stomach churn.

“If you really would like to go home, the door to my garden is here. I told you already.” He rested his hand on the doorknob and looked to you with heavy eyes. “I love you.”

You held back a scoff, knowing that he wasn’t asking, but demanding you to go past the door. For some reason, his last confession of love was more bone-chilling than the others. He opened the door for you and towered over you as you cautiously took the first step onto the soft bed of grass below.

A feeling not unlike what you felt when you first encountered Hoseok’s aura ran up your leg and struck your entire body. Immediately, you rebounded back into Hoseok’s office and dropped to your knees as the burning made you feel as though your flesh was dripping off the bone. You cried out as you repeatedly ran your hands up and down your arms and legs, reassuring yourself that they were still there. Hoseok let out a booming laugh.

He bent to sit cross-legged on the floor with you.

“It’s not real, baby. You’re just imagining it. See?” Hoseok grabbed your wrists gently and placed your hands on his face. “Look at me. You’re safe,” he chuckled. You still had to take a moment to catch your breath.

“I have to go home,” you sighed, exasperated. Hoseok smiled again, grabbing hold of your wrist again to caress it tenderly.

“Listen carefully, darling.” He pressed a soft kiss to your forearm. “I don’t want to have to say this again. You’re mine. I own you.” He intertwined your fingers. “I could rip your heart out in a second. I could feed you to my dog. Feed you to the assistant.” He ran a hand through your hair and lovingly held your trembling chin. 

“I could make you vanish with the snap of my fingers...now, or later if you want to act up.” You looked down in shame and he immediately grabbed your face again to bring it to his. “Take one step outside that door and I’ll have you up in flames. I could have your head on a fucking stick, baby.” Suddenly, he cooed, wiping a tear from your eye. “You are home. You were meant to get caught in my field. I was meant to meet you, and love you. I love you. Sweetheart?”

His hand that was holding yours suddenly contracted, squeezing your bones with a sick snap and pop. Through your cries, you sobbed out, “I love you too.”

He smiled sickeningly, planting another kiss on your forehead. “Remind me your favorite flowers. We can keep them in the bedroom.”

[impaladolan]

Capture - Grayson Dolan [4/-]

summary: after the catistrophic realization of inescapable confinement, y/n is taken back to her previous quarters and her abductor seems a little different..

warnings: swearing & mentions of smut (idk if i should TW this, there’s a subtle mention of “malnourishment”, just in case you’re sensitive to that topic)

a/n: y’all wanted it... on a real note, i appreciate everyone’s excitement and care for this series!!! i seriously love every single one of you <3

(masterlist) *including all capture parts

When you felt the warmth of his hand radiate around the coolness of your ankle, your heart fled from its natural position, all the way down to where he resistantly gripped you. And with a sigh, you fall to him. Hopelessness filled you and you knew he'd keep you one way or another. If there was any chance of escaping, this would have been it.

Your body was swiftly caught by his massive arms, and he held you tightly. Not only in fear of you trying to break free of him, but in pity of your sake. "Y/N, you can't keep doing this. I can't let you go, it's too dangerous." His hard and complex composure was stiffened and your body began to shiver with the urge to cry, revolt, and frankly a want to bash his head in. "What's too dangerous?! You can't fucking keep me here forever. I want to go home, and see my family and friends again. Not this stupid fucking house and it's stupid fucking walls that I look at everyday!" You held back the sobs of pain, whilst you gritted your teeth and spat your endless reasons as to why you want to leave this dungeon of a home. He didn't show any signs of emotion, although his eyes glimmered with a tinge of remorse.

"Listen, and do it well Y/N. All your questions and disturbances will be dealt with at a later time. You may continue your petty little escape attempts, but that will only lengthen your stay here. The better you act and obey me, the more freedoms and control you will have within this household. Understand that if you continue your acts of disobedience, you'll earn consequences." His voice was stern and cold as he walked the both of you back into the stubbornly freezing house, where your heart sank lower into your stomach and a sudden arousal drifted through you. Being held flush against his bare frontside, and the strong scent of his lingering cologne made you want to fling every piece of clothing that disconnected your bodies from being skin-to-skin.

"Consequences, you say? What're you gonna do? Tie me up and make me suck your cock? Spank my ass like it even hurts?" You breathe against his ear, his grip tightening around your suspended body. "Edge me until I'm begging for your permission to cum? Fuck me like a man would? Though, you've barely done any of those things, have you?" He groaned deeply to your words, kicking open a door and slamming you against it with your feet dropping to the ground. He roughly grabbed your wrists and pinned them above your head, eyeing you with a sort of distressed anger you've never witnessed before.

Well, fuck.

"Are you questioning my ability to pleasure a women, Y/N?" You struggled under his firm grasp, a throbbing slickness beginning to pool at your core. Your body really had a mind of its own, it clouded your mind with images of him— doing exactly everything you had mentioned before, but better. Your chest rose and fell rapidly, your eyes blaring into his challengingly. "More so punish, don't you think?" The hairs upon the nape of your neck raised as he lowered his body closer to you, only a few inches of distance between.

In an instant, he lowered his hands to the valley of your hips and spun you around, roughly pushing you against the door as he reattached his hands with yours right above your head. "You're a bit mouthy today, hmm?" His deep voice presumed right against your ear as he collided with your backside, removing one of his hands from above you and slipping it under the hem of your dress. He slowly ran his hand slowly up your thigh, creating a trail of goosebumps along with it. “Well you’re a little fucking touchy today.” You silently grin at your own little comment, though that quickly fades away as he reaches his hand up, cupping his large hand around your breast. “You think I’m touchy, huh?” He fiddles his fingers around your nipple, pinching only soft enough to send a small shock throughout your body. “M’hm, sir.”

Your reply seemed to frustrate him further as he drew his hand from under your silky night gown, gripping your hips and pushing you to the bed with what sounded like a growl almost. You turned yourself around to face him, sitting up on your elbows as you mischievously grin. “Oops, my bad, I meant yes Daddy.” Just two words is all it took for him to come to his final breaking point. He initially froze, except for his hardening cock, and just gave you a cold stare. He brought his hand up and motioned to you. “Come here.” To his words, you slowly rose from your position on the bed and stood, taking only a few steps until you were close enough to decipher the natural color of his eyes.

Hazel.

“Remove this.” He said in almost disgust, pinching the fabric of the nightwear you were under. You simply bent down, running your hands down your sides until your fingers were met with the ends of the fabric. From there, you pulled it up and over your head without a second doubt, revealing your half-bare nakedness to his eyes.

Not like he hasn’t seen it before anyway...

His eyes lingered upon your breasts a little long as well as your physique, until he noticed the small indent of your ribcage against your torso. You hadn’t eaten very much of anything in days, so you did look a bit— malnourished. A sudden wave of guilt erupted inside of him, his brows dipping downward and his eyes drooping. “I want you to go and take a shower, Y/N. There will be some clothes on the bed for you.” He drew his eyes away from you and slipped his hand along your shoulder and below to the small of your back to guide you to the restroom. You covered yourself with your arms and knitted your brows together, unhappy with the switch of things.

But a shower does sound quite nice..

“Is there anything specific that you’d like for breakfast?” It was so weird how his change of tone went from frustrated and horny to soft and caring. “No, anything sounds good.” You shortly replied, setting yourself beside the tub. He only nodded, letting his hand drift away from you, removing the nice warmth.

-

Warm showers are underrated.

You didn’t take quite a long one, you only washed up and rinsed off, but the detachable shower head did look tempting...

After you had dried off and wrapped a towel around your head and a separate one around your body, there was a neatly folded pile of clothes laid on the bed as he had mentioned before. It wasn’t stringy lingerie or a skimpy night gown, a simple shirt and sweatpants— something you’ve honestly missed wearing.

It was rejuvenating to feel fabric against your legs, and a hell of a lot warmer than before. Maybe you’d be a bit more comfortable with the freezing temperatures.You pulled the loose shirt over your head just as a knock erupted from the bedroom door. “Come in?” You questionably answer, readjusting the towel above your head.

He didn’t have manners before..

“Do you like homemade pizza?” He questioned through the door, making a low grumble roar from your stomach and a smile widen your lips. “Yes, I do.” Now you were grinning ear-to-ear as he entered the room, a large plate that had three heaping slices of the most beautiful pizza you’ve ever laid eyes on. The tall glass of ice water in his other hand sent you over the edge too. “God, that looks delicious.” You basically drool as he hands it to you, an amused teeth-showing grin upon his lips as well. You take the plate and set yourself on the bed, practically inhaling all the water and attacking the first piece.

“Holler if you want some more when you’re done.” He somewhat chuckles as he goes to leave the room. “Did you fix your little problem?” You ask just before he grabs the knob, raising a brow and your lips forming into a funny smirk. “If you’re suggesting what I think you are, then no.” He simply answers, shutting the door as he leaves.

-

"My mom's gonna kill me Grayson!" I whisper-scream with wide eyes, slipping out of my window and onto the rooftop. "Don't be such a wimp, it'll be fun." The little boy motions as I fully escape out of the house, grabbing his hand for guidance.

to be continued...

[ddaenggtan]

black irises in the sunshine | kth

anger is everything. other gods tease you for the short fuse, but it comes with the territory. people have called you stupid, have called you dumb, oafish, useless, incompetent, insolent, rude, arrogant. all of it. insults and mockery flung at you, but even your skin isn’t thick enough to deal with constant abuse. it’s the exact reason you keep going to the underground, knuckles bloody and bruised, fighting anyone that dared enter the cage. it’s the reason you go to the clubs, surround yourself with mortals and their writhing bodies. it’s there that you see him the first time, voice husky as it rolls through the room. it’s there you find someone who treats you differently than the rest. you just never expected him to be one of the muses. | monsters and gods pt 3 (masterlist)

pairing | taehyung x reader

genre/warnings | greek god au, calliope!taehyung, ares!reader, theres a lot of violence and it does get descriptive so be aware of that, none of the main characters other than ares get hurt and its not uncalled for or anything in a narrative sense, so just be aware of that; there are mentions of other idols, but if you can guess them you get a cookie because they are Vague; suuuuper bisexual Ares, Ares Can Step On Me, like I am SO gay for her it isn’t funny; explicit smut ft: cunnilingus, taeHUNG bc hes got MASSIVE SCHLONG,  some body worship kind of and then just....regular worship? like? idk how to explain that? lots of praise and lots or orgasms

word count | 14k | cross posted to ao3

a/n | HOOOOOOO this has been sitting in my google docs for literal months waiting for an ending and i decided to try to get it out for tae's birthday bUT that didn't work because i have a Job and shit so YEET I GUESS HAPPY FUCKIN NEW YEAR??? LIKE??? YEEEEEEEEEEEEE this fic is very near to me because Ares is my sweet sad angry babie and i love her, and i love tae and i love suho and i love the muses and i just........lOVE this fic like i think this is currently my favorite of the mag series so!! i hope yall also enjoy it!!!! yall are welcome to send me messages about this even tho I'm terrible at replying to them in a timely manner!! thanks to everyone who helped me with this, and everyone who has expressed interest in it, and everyone who has ever read anything of mine, because you're genuinely the best people ever, and this is literally a gift to y'all because you deserve it. 

Fuck, that was too hard .

The guy across from you goes flying, hitting the chain link wall of the cage harder than you intended. Every nerve ending in your body is on fire, and even holding back, you've got a better buzz than even the best nectar can give. Your blood sings as the guy gets back up, and you almost wish you could remember his name, because he's put up a hell of a fight. For a mortal, anyway. 

He charges at you again, and time slows as your vision tunnels. You can see the feint as he decides on it, how he hesitates in bringing his left up. You wait, watching him get closer and closer. You start to dart to your left, letting him think he's got you, before you side-step and dart to your right instead. His punch goes wide as you steady your balance and move. The top of your foot connects with his ribcage and the resulting crack of bone is lost amid the cheers and yells of the audience. 

Your opponent steps back and you're proud of the way he doesn't show the pain. He doesn't wince, doesn't move to touch the spot you hit, just tightens his stance and clenches his jaw. It's only you that notices the hitch in his breath, the way he flinches with every inhale. Your eyes narrow at that, zeroing in on the rib. You'd meant to just crack it, had been holding back most of your strength to keep from hurting him too seriously, but as he steps forward, you can see the way he grits his teeth against the pain. 

The fight leaves you immediately, like a bucket of cold water straight to the chest, and you drop your hands. 

"Yield." He just stares at you, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "Yield to me, and then go to the doctor."

"I'm not gonna yield," He says. He spits a mouthful of blood out onto the floor. "I'm not weak."

"Seriously, dude," You insist. "You're not gonna win this, and I don't want to hurt you more." 

His scoff has you seeing red. "As if a princess like you could hurt me."

Your fist connects with his face before either of you registers that you've moved. There's a voice in the back of your head reminding you that he's just mortal, he can't take the same kind of beating you can, but it's lost in the haze of fury. The next thing you know, the ref is dragging you away and slamming you into the cage wall. Your opponent is being dragged out - you still don't know his name - and he looks beaten senseless. Victory rolls through you accompanied by a sick satisfaction at the way his blood looks decorating the canvas beneath your feet. 

It lasts for less than an hour. It's always like this; the thrill of the fight, the burn of success, it's gone faster than you can blink. It's what drives you to keep fighting, to keep going to match after match, just to seek out the under-the-table stuff afterwards. It's never enough, not anymore. Back in the old days, they'd let you fight anything. Bears, bulls, lions, giants, anything they could get a noose around long enough to point it at a colosseum. That was a long time ago, though, before all the rights movements happened. You won't lie: you miss fighting beasts like that. The sheer power and strength they have, the survival instinct that makes them such fierce competitors, it's so much better than the rules and regulations of the mortal world now. Fights have gotten dull, rehearsed, more like a performance or a show than an actual fight. People make more money losing than they do winning and it's made the world boring. 

You flex your hand as you open the door to your favorite bar. Something caught it at some point in the last fight, a cheekbone or a tooth, and it stings a little. Doesn't hurt, not exactly, not for a goddess, but it did enough that you feel it at all, which means it couldn't have been anything but torture for the guy on the other end. The bartender waves at you and gets your usual ready as you sit, and you idly wonder if Busted Rib Guy will be okay. It looked painful, for a human, and you'd tried to hold back, but…

Well, you weren't really responsible for what happened to condescending little fucks, were you?

You sip the bourbon, enjoying the burn as it goes down. The lights are dim, tonight. You're glad. You don't want to deal with people looking at you, men coming over to talk to you, trying to advise you on how to properly bandage your knuckles or how to avoid the bruise on your cheek next time. If you had wanted to avoid it, you would have. You'd intended it to hurt worse, honestly, but that first guy'd had a weaker right hook than you expected. 

You look around, wondering if anyone here would provide a decent distraction for the night. There's a pretty brunette in the corner with carefully crafted braids, and as your eyes travel, you imagine what's hiding beneath the silk and leather. You're pulled from the thought by the sound of music, and you curse under your breath. You forgot that it's an open mic night and you'd meant to go to the bar across town instead. Irritation colors your vision; every open mic night is awful, full of lofty poets talking about their trauma and wannabe Taylor Swifts thinking they're on the same level as Sappho. Ah, now that was a girl with a set of pipes. You miss her, wonder what she would say to the butchering of whatever song you're about to hear.

The voice that comes isn't what you expect. It's smooth and deep. The world turns to velvet around you as the voice wanders from one speaker to another, creating a mesmerizing multi-dimensional effect despite the way the singer doesn't ever leave the stage. You turn, knuckles white around your bourbon glass; he's utterly magnetic, every eye in the room trained on him as he purrs into the vintage mic. Long fingers are wrapped around the scuffed metal, decorated with jewels that glitter in the dim light of the bar. You can smell the lingering cigarette smoke from the guy beside you and the Jäger from the girl two stools down and for once, you don't even care. He's captivating, voice travelling between speakers in the bar and coming from everywhere and nowhere at once. 

Your eyes don't leave him, and you wonder if you can memorize the way the blond waves fall against his forehead if you stare long enough. 

The red seeps away from you, slinking back into the corners of your mind, settling once more into a low thrum under your skin. It fades into the background of this man's voice, the charisma that rolls off him in waves as he pulls the mic in close just to push it to the side with a teasing smirk. It settles something in your chest that hasn't been calm since the fight in Athens so long ago. 

The music fades out sooner than you'd like, and he gives a slight bow before wandering into the crowd. You do your best to follow him, but the gold of his hair disappears almost immediately, lost in the throng of people around the stage waiting to speak to him. You turn back around, downing the next bit of bourbon that Suho pours you. 

"I know," He says with a grin. You cock a brow at him, not having said anything he could agree with. "He's good. That's what you were thinking, right? He's why we're so packed on open mics. Got the audio and lighting guy whipped, so he's got all these special effects, too. Drives people crazy.”

"He's alright," You mutter. You toss a few bills down on the bartop and step back. Suho gives you a courteous nod as you leave. The bouncer gives you a dirty look when he spots the lit cigarette between your lips, but he knows better than to try to tell you otherwise. You've taught him better. 

You lean back against the brick wall of the alley and take a drag. The warm smoke fills your lungs and you close your eyes. It's a different kind of burn than you're used to, a distraction from the crawling sensation that drives you to fight. It's calmer, more controlled. Feels like the smoke from Hestia's fires. Feels like home. 

"Never expected to see you here," A voice calls out. It's deep and startling in the darkness, but you don't jump. You just open your eyes, exhale, and look to where it came from. 

The singer stands before you in the same undone white button up and black tee he performed in. He doesn't have a cig, doesn't seem to have much of any reason to be outside. He moves almost lazily, as if he doesn't even need to, just wants to, and when his gaze flicks up to meet yours, your vision fills just for a breath with every opponent you've ever faced lying at your feet. 

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" The words slip from your tongue before you can stop them. It's not his fault, the voice in your head says, he didn't mean it that way, but still, your blood is thrumming now that he's here and you want to know what he's talking about. Want to know why he thinks you wouldn't be here when there's attractive people and good bourbon and you've never seen this man before in your life. Want to know why he already seems to think you aren't civilized enough to be at a bar, why he spoke but all you heard was Zeus' voice in your memories.

"Exactly what I said. Should I be clearer?"

"Yeah, probably," you spit. Yet another person that assumes you're stupid, that you don't understand basic languages, as if you haven't been speaking them since the ancient times. As if you couldn't speak circles around him if you wanted. "Unless you want your teeth on the fucking ground."

"Good to know the stories are true." He tsks and you're filled with a strange sense of disappointment and fury, both at him and yourself. Your vision turns red at the edges and the cigarette between your fingers is crushed in your grip. He pays no mind to it, just saunters past with a lazy, swaying gait that draws your eyes to his hips and then down the long leather-clad legs. "See you around, Ares."

"That's not my fucking name," You yell after him. He doesn't respond when you shout your actual name, the one you chose, on your own, as a middle finger to the Olympians. "Get it right next time, dickwad."

He turns the corner of the alley and the streetlight catches his face just enough for you to see the smirk he wears. For once in your life, you're torn; you want to smash his face in, yes, because how dare this random guy speak to you like that when you could kill him with one finger to the right pressure point. You also find your skin's hotter than usual, stretched too thin over your bones, and you want him to run his hands over you until it feels right again.

Until it feels like it did when he was singing. 

How did he know my title?

The thought comes unbidden, days later, with the desperate hit of a palm against your shoulder. You've got the woman in a headlock, patiently waiting for her to pass out completely so the fight can be called, and your mind is wandering. 

How did the singer know who you are? You hadn't thought anything of it at the time, distracted by fury and frustration, but with time comes a special kind of clarity. You've never seen him before, not that you know anyway, yet he didn't hesitate to call you Ares. The only ones who know of your kind are your kind, but you haven't seen any of your siblings among mortals in a long time. You thought you knew the other gods and goddesses, but maybe not. It has been a while since you stepped foot in the golden city.

The woman in your grip goes slack and you release her. You're still lost in thought as the ref calls the match and leads you out of the makeshift ring. The cheers of the audience are background noise at this point, akin to static or the buzz of electricity, and you pay them no mind as you head to collect your winnings. You didn't even get any kind of buzz from success this time, too immersed in the way the singer walked and talked and looked. The image of his smirk is burned into your retinas. 

"Yeah, you didn't hear? He just got out of the hospital. They had to keep him overnight because they thought he might puncture a lung. I heard that if it had been a little worse, they would've had to wire his jaw shut." You stop, fingers brushing over the stack of bills you don't even remember being handed. You look up, making eye contact with the guy whispering nearby. Your suspicions are confirmed when his friend smacks his arm and juts his chin in your direction before they both disappear into the crowd. 

You shove your way outside, frustration creeping through you and coloring your vision. You manage to keep it contained long enough for you to make it to the alley behind the warehouse, but it explodes from you in a rush of thrown dumpsters and sheet metal. 

Fuck , you never meant to hurt him like that. You told him, you fucking told him to yield, it isn't your fault he didn't listen. It's not your fault that he went and insulted you, acted like he was better than you just by virtue of being a dude, as if you weren't worshipped in the old days for the power you had and the blessings you could give. You'd held back, through all of it, you'd told him to yield, and he insulted you. It wasn't your fault. 

You slide to the ground, running a shaking hand through your hair. It isn't your fault , you repeat. You close your eyes and take deep breaths, the way Hestia taught you, willing the fury to dissipate. It's like a fire in your veins, burning and bubbling your skin until you can't resist anymore. You take another breath. It isn't your fault. You tried. You offered an out. It isn't your fault. Fuck, what was his name? 

With a growl that quickly morphs into a scream, you kick the dumpster once more before stalking off into the darkness. You need a fucking drink and you're gonna find a distraction in someone else if it's the last thing you do. 

The club is packed when you get there; you're not usually a fan of clubs like this, too full of people who are too friendly, but they're perfect for nights like tonight. You don't even need to wait in line, just slip the bouncer a 50 as you pass, and the bartenders are quick to spot you. You're pretty notorious in the city for over-paying, which means you're knocking back bourbon before you have a chance to ask for it. There are people everywhere, pressed up against both sides of you while the bass thrums in your throat, and it takes you longer than you're proud of to realize why. 

There's a band playing, apparently. They're not bad; the vocalist isn't anything like the singer from Suho's, but it doesn't make you want to tear your ears off, so you consider it a success. 

You're dancing before you remember deciding to. Everything's a blur when you get the itch in your bones, the need to make someone bleed. To feel something that isn't rage or condescension. People are even closer here on the dance floor, suffocating in their proximity, but there's a woman grinding her ass into you, and it sparks the dying fire in your gut. The beat of the music drowns your own heart, and it's all flashing lights and heat and a body pressed against yours that is all too willing.

She follows when you go back to the bar for another drink, and giggles when you lick salt from her wrist before downing tequila. Her hands are wrapped in the leather of your jacket as she kisses you, your own resting lightly on her hips. She laughs against your lips and says something you don't hear before ordering another drink. Something makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

You take the brief reprieve to look around the club, searching for whatever it is that has you on alert. You find him on the upper level of the club, leaned over the balcony with a drink in hand. You can't make out his expression, exactly; it's too far away and too guarded. But you'd know him anywhere now. The singer knocks back whatever's in his glass, eyes never leaving yours. You don't know why he's here, if he comes here often or if the Fates are having a laugh at your expense, but you do know you want to make the most of it.

The girl is back, pressing a heated kiss to your lips and drawing your attention from him. You return it, nipping at her lips and getting a small gasp in return. You smirk and bite your way down her neck. She's breathy in your ear, hitched moans lost in the beat of the music, but you barely hear her as you suck bruises into the skin of her neck. He's still watching you. His drink is gone and he's gripping the bannister of the balcony, rings glinting in the light. You wonder if the cool metal could soothe the burn in your bones. You want to know if he can bring that calmness from before back, if he can soothe the frenzy in your mind with his hands the way he can with his voice. Just imagining it has you soaking through to your jeans.

The girl makes a particularly loud noise in your ear and you're brought out of your thoughts. As if he can sense it, the singer straightens. He gives you one last look before disappearing back into the crowd, and you wonder if you're imagining the disdain in it. You draw back from the girl's neck, about to tell her to find her friends when she slides her hands in your hair and tugs.

The burn in your blood is back, now, and you hope this girl is prepared for what awaits her.

"You're here early," Suho says when he spots you in the nearly empty bar the next night. He's not wrong, either; you skipped the fights tonight completely. There was no buzz last time, no relief, and you have no reason to believe there would be tonight. Not with the way the singer captivates your thoughts. 

Besides, you have enough money leftover from the previous few to last a couple days.

"What, did you decide not to kick someone's ass before getting wasted?" Suho doesn't wither at the look you give him, just pours you a couple fingers of bourbon and slides the glass over. "Or did they just stop letting you in completely?"

"I might change my mind if you don't shut up," You tell him. There's no real heat behind it. You've known Suho for years now, been coming to his bar for so long it almost feels like home. You're almost friends at this point. 

It helps that he knows when to bite his tongue so he doesn't get his teeth knocked out.

"Seriously though, I don't think I've ever seen you here this early. Especially not on mic nights." You're very careful in your lack of a reaction to his words. You'd seen the workers setting up for it when you came in, and even if you hadn't, you know when mic night is. You've spent enough time avoiding it.

"Does he sing every time?" You ask in lieu of an explanation. You don't look away from the amber liquid in your glass, letting the silence hang as the bartender does his best to follow your thought process. 

"Taehyung? Most weeks, yeah. It's been a nice change from the usual drunken karaoke. He goes around to some of the other places in town, too. Apparently he just likes to sing." 

"Taehyung," You repeat. The name rolls from your tongue a bit awkwardly. It's more than you expected, somehow, but you can't place exactly how . Just...more. "Is he always that good?"

"Oh, yeah. We have regulars now for mic night because of him. He's got a whole fan club and everything."

"Hm." You drain the rest of your bourbon and Suho refills it. He leaves you in peace then, serving some others that appear at the bar. 

The place fills faster than you can blink. That's what it feels like, anyway. It's like one moment there's you and a handful of other people scattered around, and now you're being jostled between some dude a million feet tall that definitely doesn't look old enough to be here and a girl with her tits up to her throat and surrounded by a cloud of perfume so thick that it starts a migraine behind your eyes almost instantly. She flirts with Suho a little, likely trying to score free drinks, and you roll your eyes. She pouts at him when he gives her the total, batting eyelashes that go on for miles, and for once, you wish Suho would just give in and comp the drinks. 

"I'll pay for them," You say. She was definitely saying something, maybe you should have been paying attention to it, but fuck , this migraine is only getting worse the longer she stands there. "I'll pay for your drinks."

"Oh, thanks," She says. Her smile is hesitant, and quickly turns apologetic as she takes in the boots and the ripped jeans and the leather jacket. "Um, I'm not...I don't, uh…"

"Do I look like I want to fuck you, sweetie?" She looks a little affronted and a laugh escapes you. You lean closer, letting your breath ghost over her cheek as you speak in her ear to be heard better. "If I wanted to fuck you senseless, you'd know it. And I can guarantee you it would be a hell of a lot better than the watered down rat piss this guy's giving you." 

When you lean back, her face is flushed and she's stammering. You smirk and hand her the drinks she'd ordered. 

"Too bad you’re not, you don’t, huh?" You tell her. The patronizing tone isn't lost on her, nor is your mockery of her earlier words, and she shuts her mouth with an audible click before strutting off. Suho glares at you as he pours more bourbon.

"Can you please try not to run off my patrons?" He mutters. "Some of us actually need money to live."

"Some of us would like decently timed refills and to not choke on perfume," You quip. "And better bourbon, for that matter." He hisses something about what he's giving you being top quality but you tune him out, throwing one leg over the stool Perfume Girl vacated. You'd like to keep just a little bit of personal space. 

Across the bar, you catch a brief glimpse of the girl from the night before and you wince. Her neck is thoroughly bruised, and you catch a peek of bruises and scratches on her back as she shrugs her jacket on. You didn’t mean to be so rough with her, even if she had been into it; you’re usually pretty good about remembering that the mortals are just that - mortal - and as such have to be handled delicately. They’re so fragile, it feels like they could break with a strong wind. Guilt settles in your gut and turns the bourbon in your glass to cough syrup. You’ve half a mind to just leave before she sees you, are about to turn and do exactly that, but the speakers screech to life and the deafening feedback from the mic keeps you glued to your seat. 

The crowd quiets even as the excitement ramps up, all talk silencing but for the occasional hushed whispers here and there. The first few notes of the song echo through the speakers, and a spotlight appears on him. 

He looks different this time, his hair dyed a vibrant blue that matches the glinting jewels in his ears and on his hands. He's an absolute vision and you wonder how Aphrodite has allowed him to live so long when he's so beautiful. His voice hangs in the air and calms you, the same settling in your chest as last time, the same freedom from the burn in your veins. It's addictive. 

The song doesn't last nearly as long as you want it to but the stillness inside you lingers long after he's done caressing the microphone. You place a few bills down for Suho and light up a cigarette as you head outside, ignoring the dirty looks from other patrons as you do. You're on a mission, the thrum of bloodlust returning with every second that passes, and you can't even be sure if he's still around or if he's wandered off already. 

You stand in the alley for what feels like hours, turning at every sound and smoking cig after cig just so you have something to do. You've almost decided to say fuck it when footsteps sound from the back of the bar, coming closer to you. 

His blue hair is visible even from the other end of the small alley, a giveaway similar to the light at the end of your cigarette and the smoke you blow into the air. There's no way he hasn't seen you, you think, you're making no effort to hide or be sneaky, and yet he's continuing forward as if he doesn't see you at all, eyes focused on a phone in his hand. You wait until he's just a few steps away before speaking.

"How do you know my title?" You ask him. He stops as if he'd always meant to and doesn't even bother to glance up at you or respond. The edges of your vision turn scarlet at the blatant disregard and you're speaking before you can even process the words. "I asked you a fucking question, pretty boy, you're gonna answer me. Unless you want that precious mouth bloodied up."

"And you wonder how I know who you are," He drawls, still not bothering to spare a glance at you. A scowl grows over your face at his sarcastic tone. "If you're going to hit me just get it over with. Otherwise, I have places to be."

He stands, waiting and expectant, but you don't move. He's humming, quiet and to himself like he doesn't even realize he's doing it, and the red seeps away from your mind until you're left clear-headed once more. You sigh, long and heavy, and crush your cigarette into your denim-covered thigh to put it out. It tickles. 

"I'm not going to hit you," You tell him eventually. "I just wanna know how you know me. And how you do it."

He cocks a brow at that, finally looking up from the phone in his hand to level dark eyes on yours. "Do what? Sing?"

"No." You swallow around the sudden lump in your throat. The words are harder to find than you thought they'd be, lost in the depths of his gaze, in the clarity you're so unaccustomed to, in the way you feel like you can breathe for the first time in days. "I don't care how you sing, that's not important, it's the...fuck, you know what, never mind, it doesn't fucking matter." You push off the wall and step past him to head towards where the streetlight gleams off the bar windows. 

"Tell me." The command has you stopping in your tracks, and you're again flooded with just wanting to know how. How he clears the haze, how he stops you, how he makes you feel real. You turn, hands stuffed into the back pockets of your jeans. "How I do what?"

It takes you several long breaths before you can answer, and you aren't even sure he can hear you over the sounds of people leaving the bar, and you find yourself disappearing into the crowd without waiting for a response. Your own words are reverberating in your skull, getting louder with each step you take, and you wish you could just turn it off . 

"How you make me feel like a person again."

You avoid the bar for a few weeks, going hours away from your usual area to an unfamiliar hole in the wall just to make sure you don’t see him. You’re more deadly than usual in your fights, victories coming quicker, injuries piling up along with the guilt, but you can’t bring yourself to return. It’s unnerving, the way everything goes quiet around him, the way you can think, but the worst is the way you can feel. Everything’s calm and steady and blue, and it only makes it easier for the regret and the guilt and the anxiety to curl around your throat and squeeze until you can’t breathe, to clog in your throat while the laughter of your siblings echoes in your ears, and you...can’t. You can’t do that, you can’t let it win, you can’t let them win, they can’t know that you’re everything they think you are and worse. 

You can’t let yourself drown in that, and yet you find yourself back at Suho’s, lost among the crowd while Taehyung’s voice surrounds you. The ache in your bones fades away, chased by the thrum of the fight that still lingers despite the hours that have passed since you felt your opponent’s femur break under your palm and their screams echoed in your ears. Everything is calm again, and the guilt nearly drowns you.

He hasn’t even finished singing before you’re outside, chest heaving as you gasp against the weight on your chest. You broke someone’s femur , and did you even really need to? The fight itself is a blur even now, snapshots playing through your mind like a montage. The way they’d darted at you first, how their foot felt connecting with the backs of your knees, the determination in their eyes when you went down, the jolt of shock as your hands wrapped around their leg, the dull throb of a barrage of hits against your waist as you pulled them down as well and bloodied their face, the blood-curdling scream as you snapped the bone like a pretzel stick.

Your breath comes faster in your lungs, forced out by the growing guilt that lodges there in its place. Images swirl in your mind, chased by a never-ending stream of thought and regret that you should be used to by now. Fuck, you didn’t need to, and you still did it; you lost control, you fucking hurt them, and for what? A couple hundred? Was it even worth it? Who knew when they’d be back into shape to fight, what if they needed the money? They weren’t even half-bad. They got you down, at least, shouldn’t you have gone easy on them? You don’t even remember their face, can’t remember what the announcer said their name was, words drowned out by the buzz under your skin.

Metal crumples under your grip and you spare a half-second to mourn Suho’s dumpster before you slam your knuckles against it. It tingles, not even real pain, and you don’t hesitate to repeat it. By the time the metal is disfigured completely, a distorted mess of paint and steel and garbage, you still aren’t in pain, but there’s a sheen of gold across your knuckles and you feel less like you’re drowning and more like you’re suffocating. The usual. You can handle that. You think. 

You don’t even realize that you’ve slid down to the ground beside the dumpster until the back door of the bar opens and footsteps echo through the alley. You wish you knew how long you’ve been here, how long you’ve sat among empty bottles and stale beer and broken glass, but you can’t be sure. The brief reprieve brought by Taehyung’s voice is long gone, chased away by the guilt and rage that still sits heavy in your chest. You hope you’re not noticeable here, that whoever’s left will just pass by and leave you to piece yourself back together on your own. 

Voices tell you that it isn’t likely, the deep baritone of one too familiar to ignore. The other is new, but you’re familiar with the tone, the inflection, the intent behind it. You've heard it before, in crowded clubs as a guy pushes too close to some girl who can barely stand, in a coffeeshop when a random customer can't take a fucking hint, at the local campus when some professor insists that there could be maybe one thing her student could do to pass. It makes everything in you curdle, the bourbon from earlier threatening to work its way back up; it screams predator , and you absolutely refuse to let anyone fucking talk to someone like that, like they have some right to whatever it is they want. 

You refuse to let someone talk to him that way. 

"Seriously, Kratos, didn't I tell you to leave me alone? Did Aphrodite not teach you your lesson last time you harassed someone?" Taehyung's voice brings a calm that's an unsettling match to the anger washing over you. You're used to the red at the corners of your vision, the tint to everything you see, but you aren ' t used to the way it all turns purple and focused and clear . 

There's no haze this time, there's no abrupt shift of you moving before you know you've done it. You can feel the glass crunching under your boots with every step you take, can feel the way the air has a chill that creeps down into your lungs with every breath, can almost taste the apprehension that's rolling off of Taehyung despite his relaxed stance. The only thing that gives him away is the tense set of his jaw and the mix of relief and fear when his eyes land on you. 

"I'm pretty sure he said no, Kratos." The god turns at your voice and you watch the realization wash over him as he realizes what - who - you are. 

"Been a while since anyone's seen you, Ares." He scoffs a little, not moving from where he has Taehyung caged against the wall of the bar, one hand pressed firmly into the brick. He's entirely too close, and you have no doubt that the stench of him permeates the very oxygen around them. 

"Been busy. Doesn't change the fact that the man said no. Take the loss, walk away." Kratos' eyes narrow at your words and he steps away, but only to move closer to you. 

"Why do you care so much? You've never been one to care about any of us before." Kratos inches closer and the hyper-focus that Taehyung's voice causes starts to melt away with every twitch of your fingers. You've never liked Kratos, all brute strength with no respect for the challenge, no appreciation of the fight, too focused on sheer power and exhilaration. He is the worst of the worst of the worst of your kind, of all the war-focused gods. Every bit of yourself you hate is every piece that Kratos loves about himself. 

"I care that you don't seem to be able to understand when someone doesn't want to be around you, you absolute piece of filth. Taehyung had a point though, I really thought the whole thing with Aphrodite would've taught you how to back off. Or should I pull the video out, I think I still have it saved for when I need a good laugh." Malice and fury twitch across the other god's face and you absolute revel in it. You can feel his anger prickling across you, like needles in your very pores, and you ache for it. It's been so long since you last had a good fight, a real challenge where you didn't need to hold back at all. 

Too long since you fought a god like yourself.

"You're testing my patience, cousin," Kratos spits. It's a little generous to call the two of you cousins - you're several times removed, at best, and potentially closer than that with your family's warped history - but you let him have it. It might make him feel better. "I'm having a conversation, that's all. And if said conversation means that we end up back at my place, then, well, can anyone really blame me for what might happen to this pretty little m-"

Your fist connects with his jaw immediately and the red floods you for the few seconds it takes to register Taehyung calling your name. The calm struggles for a second, warring with the rage, but it wins out eventually. The singer's talking, but you can't make out any actual words. You're too focused on Kratos, the way he's righting and readying himself for a brawl. There's a fire in his eyes that matches the one in yours and everything in you feels alive for the first time in too long. 

This fight is different than your usual ones. There's no blur, no warped sense of time that usually comes with the adrenaline. You're focused and controlled in a way you haven't had to be for centuries, careful and precise and deliberate with every swing and every kick. The red seeps back in slowly and every time you think you're about to lose it, you hear Taehyung, still pressed against the wall of the bar. 

Kratos lunges at you for what has to be the tenth time, clearly trying his best to knock you to the ground - he succeeded, once; you let yourself get distracted, too caught up in thoughts, but it didn't last long - and you sidestep him just in time for him to ram into the ruined dumpster instead. He looks pissed when he turns back around and something in you sings at the sight. He makes for you again and you dodge again, only to be dragged back towards him by the grip he has on your jacket. Fuck, should've taken that off , whatever, he's too close.

Pain explodes in your side and you're fairly sure he's busted part of your rib, but you just slide your arms out of the sleeves and twist to plant your knee straight into his gut and then slam your heel down onto his much-less-safe toes, and then back up to knee him in the groin. It's nowhere near enough to take him out, but his nose is oozing golden ichor and he groans with every shift of his weight, and you've got him pinned against the wall with your forearm pressing hard into his windpipe. 

"Now, you're gonna listen to me you steaming pile of dog shit," You hiss. "When someone tells you no, it's not a fucking negotiation. It means you fucking leave and find someone with loose enough morals or enough internalized self-hatred that they're willing to subject themselves to your absolutely pitiful fucking excuse of an existence for the thirty-two seconds it'll take for you to get off." 

Kratos doesn't respond, just sneers and spits blood at you. It's a miracle you don't actually try to rip his head from his body, because the thought crosses your mind for a second too long. Instead, you just press harder against his windpipe and enjoy the choked gasp that it draws. 

"You don't stalk people either, the way you did with 'Dite. Don't you know it's better to let them come to you sometimes?" You tsk, ignoring the way he claws uselessly at your arm. Gods may not need to breathe, that's a fact, but they feel pain, and there is no way this isn't absolutely excruciating for him when even you can feel the small bones in his neck cracking and breaking. "And if I hear even a whisper of you pulling shit like this again, then I'm gonna find you, you pigshit. And when I do, I won't hold back even the slightest, and do you know what comes after that?" 

His eyes are full of fear now, and only grow wide with terror as you lean in close enough that he can feel your lips against his ear as you whisper. 

"You are going to wish that you could die." 

When you do release him, he disappears instantly, with a cloud of acrid grey-green smoke curling around your ichor-spattered boots. He's only been gone a second when you slump, the adrenaline fading as quick as Kratos had left. Your side is throbbing now, your knuckles are bruised and broken and gold, there's a pain in your leg that you aren't sure what's causing, your head is screaming even through the high of the fight, your face stings in the crisp-cool air. Every breath makes the pain worse so you stop breathing. The brick wall of the bar is rough against your palms, but it's the only thing around that can keep you upright, so you'll take it. 

"Well," a voice drawls from your left. You'd jump if you had anything left in you, but every ounce of energy is gone, spent teaching Kratos what Aretha Franklin meant when she sang about respect - and really, there was another fantastic singer, you really should visit her sometime soon - so instead your head lolls to the side. You aren't sure what it is that jolts through you when your eyes land on Taehyung, fingers curled carefully around the collar of-

Your jacket. That's your leather jacket. You barely remembers shrugging out of it, but you're glad it's not on the ground, trampled and covered in the gold spatters that decorate the rest of your body. 

"Well?" You echo, wincing at the pain it causes. You've definitely got a busted lip, that's for sure from the way it feels different and swollen, and you're pretty sure there's a head wound, too, because you don't remember there being a golden halo around Taehyung before the fight. 

"Well," He repeats, slinging the jacket - your jacket - over a shoulder. "You should get that looked at." He starts walking, making his way to the entrance of the alleyway. He gets halfway there before he stops and turns and cocks a brow. "Are you coming, or do I get to keep this?" Your jacket waves a little, as if he's wiggling it, and it makes you feel like a stray dog being lured off with treats. 

You're never going to tell anyone that it works.

Taehyung's place is as nondescript as the car he parks outside. It's a plain apartment building on the outside - looks like maybe it was a hotel back in the 1930s, based on the outdated carpeting in the lobby and the grate on the elevator he steps into. Even the hallway is plain and unassuming as he leads you to the end and uses an old, tarnished brass key on an older, more tarnished brass knob. You aren't sure what you expected, you can't even begin to guess what Taehyung is like outside of the dirty alley or the stage where he sings, can't fathom what kind of decor he could possibly have. 

What you step into isn't anything you could have guessed. It looks like he has the entire rest of the floor to himself based on what you can see, but there's also a spiral staircase tucked into a corner, bookshelves built in under each step that are filled to the brim, and a fireman's pole in another corner, so there's at least one more level above this, but something tells you both the staircase and the pole continue past that. There's artwork everywhere, pieces you recognize and pieces you don't, several van Goghs and a couple from Matisse and you think in the corner you spot an actual fucking da Vinci sketch that's supposed to be somewhere in Europe. There's a gramophone beside a top-of-the-line sound system, an entire wall that's just a record collection, books upon books, framed bits of poetry - including an actual hand-written rupi kaur, a signed Maya Angelou print, and a signed cover of ain't i a woman by bell hooks that you would die to know how Taehyung got his hands on. It's a museum's wet dream and yet it retains a lived in atmosphere. There are mugs left on tables, blankets strewn about as if someone just got up from a nap, an easel propped up by a far window with what looks like an impressionist painting of the cityscape, books tossed down half-read with receipts and coupons and candy wrappers and everything but a bookmark tucked between the pages. 

It feels like a home and it makes your heart flutter in your chest at the same time that something in your stomach shrivels up into itself. 

Taehyung walks like he’s meant to be followed, so follow you do. You spy another man - older, you think, but it’s hard to tell, really - sprawled across a couch, blanket splayed across his lap as he watches some kind of dance show on a flatscreen hung above a warm and roaring fireplace, a couple of girls in what looks to be the kitchen, one sitting on the counter while the other stands between her legs and pretends not to notice the former stealing strawberries from her bowl as she taps at her tablet, and there are footsteps creaking above you, hidden behind walls even as Taehyung leads you up the staircase. They all look up when you pass, but only the man gives you a second glance; his eyes are a weight on your back that doesn’t leave until you’re upstairs and following Taehyung into a large, rather nice bathroom. 

It’s vintage as well, but it’s spacious and well-kept, like the rest of the place. Taehyung pats the marble counter by the sink and you bite your tongue against the urge to tell him you aren’t a dog. You don’t move though, instead watching him as he lays your jacket across a brass bar on the wall and then digs around in a cabinet for a minute or two. When he straightens up, he’s got a somewhat dusty off-white box in his hands, and he frowns. 

“Up,” He says. “I need to look at your ankle.” 

You don’t move, but you can tell he doesn’t miss the twitch of your nose at the thought of being commanded like an animal. Like someone who can’t understand. Like-

He sighs. 

“Please, will you sit on the counter, so I can look at your ankle?” You huff, but you do as he says. 

He doesn’t speak as he works, completely silent except for the odd command - “Roll it for me...alright, now flex that...deep breath...stop fidgeting or I’ll only make it worse…” - and the occasional hum under his breath. It seems to be second nature, like he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it, and it endears you more than you’d like. His touch is gentle but firm as he lightly squeezes your ankle and wraps it, lifts your pant leg to rub some kind of cream into a somewhat worrisome golden bruise forming on your calf, darts under your shirt to quickly and painlessly set your ribs before wrapping those as well. He doesn’t say anything at all until he’s almost finished with the cuts on your hands, golden ichor long gone and wounds already on their way to healing thanks to some sort of mist he spritzes on them. 

It only stings once, as he’s spraying something over some kind of cut on your thigh where Kratos ripped through the denim there without you noticing. You can’t stop the hiss as the pain hits, though you regret it when he glances up at you. 

“Sorry,” He mumbles under his breath as he dabs lightly at it with his long fingers. 

“It’s fine,” You tell him. “I’m used to it.” Your voice is rough, always, but softer than usual. You don’t know why. You can’t decide if you like it.

The entire time he works, you wait. For him to tell you it wasn’t necessary, that he can fight his own battles, that he’s not surprised a brute like yourself got into a fight, that you’re no more than what the rumours say you are. You’ve got a million different curses and insults ready to spit back at him when he finally speaks.

“Thank you,” is what comes. It shocks the words out of your mouth, and you actually look up from where you’ve been watching him methodically wipe gold away from a scrape on your forearm. His gaze is concentrated on the injury and his lips are pursed and you wish you could figure him out. 

He must take your silence for the confusion it is, because he continues. 

“I mean it,” He says. “I’m usually not someone that lets other people fight for me, but we both know that I couldn’t have taken Kratos. He’s too strong, and he was counting on that. Until you showed up.” You don’t respond. “Is there a reason you left before my set was done? Or why you were sitting in an alley beside what is possibly the most gnarled dumpster I’ve ever seen?”

You don’t answer him, instead focusing on the way his hands feel as they tilt your chin so he can look at the cuts and bruises and scrapes that decorate your face. You focus your gaze just past his shoulder, content to memorize the pattern of his gaudy vintage bathroom wallpaper, and he doesn't press for more. The distracted humming picks up again every time he stops talking, and eases the storm of guilt shame rage pain hurt grief loneliness in your chest. 

"I fight," you eventually say. Your voice is too loud in the quiet of the bathroom, shatters the silence like a sledgehammer, and you hate the way it trembles. Still, Taehyung doesn't look away from where he's carefully wiping gold from your skin, just cocks a brow, and it's as if a dam breaks in your throat. "Like, real fights. Actual competition, with rules and shit, and...sometimes the bad ones, because they tend to fight differently, it's a different kind of fight, y'know, and it's never really fair, because I'm...I'm me, but I hold back, just for fun, y'know, and it's, uh. It's alright usually, I go in, do my thing, I win, I go drink, and it all gets, I dunno, easier, maybe, for a while, like I can think right, but, um.”

You hesitate for a split second and force yourself to focus on the way the alcohol-soaked cotton tickles the cut on your head. 

“Sometimes it's not...sometimes I can't control it as well, the anger, and I kind of just lose it on people, and a while ago this guy, he almost needed his jaw wired shut, but he was kind of a prick anyway, I guess, so whatever, but, uh, today, I...there was this girl and she was doing really well, actually, y'know, managed to get me down to the mat, which is rare and pretty impressive, and I'm pretty proud of her for it now, but then, I just. I just kinda lost it, like, I just kept swinging, I couldn't stop, and then I just...I broke her leg, for no real reason, just because I wanted her to hurt, and I don't...I'm not sure why I even did it, because I'd already won, right, like what was the point of doing any more, it wasn't even helping at that point, y'know, it's not like the buzz kept up any longer because I broke this kid's leg, and I love the fights, they help clear my head for a second, but I never wanted to actually-"

You words stop short, like there are too many of them to say in too short a time, and it's then you realize Taehyung's hands are in his lap and he's looking at you fully. His expression isn't neutral anymore, it's not the carefully crafted mask of a performer, it's real and open and genuine and all you see there is pain . For you. Pain and understanding and compassion you never expected to find anywhere but the deepest corners of your soul. Looking at him looking at you like that makes you feel like you can breathe again.

"You never wanted to hurt anyone." His voice is rough, like maybe there's emotion clogging his throat as well, and you aren't sure what that does to you, but something in you jumps at the thought.

Tears mar your vision as you nod and you curse under your breath before wiping them away. He catches your quivering hand in his and just holds it for a second. His eyes don't leave yours and there are a thousand things you expect him to say but what he says is: 

"I believe you."

And that...it's more than you can take, and you break, right there on his bathroom counter, sobbing into his chest while he just rubs your back and hums and you remember the face of every person you've ever hurt and the look in their eyes as you left some of them for dead. 

You wake up the next morning curled up on the most comfortable chaise lounge in human history, sitting up and shoving the blanket off of you in a rush before you remember where you are, why you're there. A glance around tells you that you aren't alone; there's two guys bent over a table that you think might also be a tablet, conversing quietly and pointing every so often at whatever they're looking at, a girl balanced along the edge of the staircase holding a lyre - which, wow, you haven't seen a lyre in that good condition in a while - and strumming lightly along it before she frowns and shakes her head and restarts whatever melody she's playing, and the same guy sprawled over the couch with a blanket strewn haphazardly over him while he watches a different dance video on the flatscreen. He's the closest and you don't really want to talk to any of these people but you think you might have to because you aren't really sure how Taehyung got you here last night but you know it was quite a drive. You'd just mist over to the bar if you really wanted to, but your ribs hurt like a bitch still thanks to that fucker Kratos. Anything as intense as misting is out of the question for the time being.

The man on the chaise spares you a glance that feels longer than it should, full of a judgement you have no doubt you deserve and yet somehow fires your anger anyway. 

He rolls his eyes before you even say anything and waves a hand towards the kitchen. You snap your mouth closed and shoot him an irritated look, but you storm in that direction anyway. Healing is exhausting, and you want nothing more than some meat to tear into and a cold beer. 

When you get into the kitchen, however, Taehyung is standing there already, as if he’s been expecting you any minute. There’s a plate in front of him, full of food you barely recognize, and he slides it towards you. 

“Eat,” He says. You grit your teeth, unmoving, and he sighs again. “Please sit, and eat. You need the strength to heal properly.” 

You resist for a split second, but there’s a softness to him now. Something you can’t exactly put your finger on, but that you know is different , somehow, and it changes things. It makes you want to listen, to do as he asks, because he is asking . He’s not telling, he’s treating you like an animal. 

It’s a request, not a demand, and that makes all the difference. 

Taehyung is quiet while you eat. He doesn’t look at you, doesn’t watch to make sure you’re doing it, but you have no doubt he’s keeping an eye on you. It’s quiet, but not unbearably so; the air is broken by the sounds of the lyre and the television, as well as the soft chattering of the men at the table. It makes it comfortable, makes it soft in a way you’re unaccustomed to being, like the way people talk about lazy Sunday mornings or that voice they get when they see a cute animal.

It feels like home should be, instead of what yours is. 

“So why’s Pretty Boy giving me the death glare?” You eventually ask past a mouthful of food. Taehyung barely looks up, just glancing past you to the guy laying on the couch. You can feel his eyes boring into your spine, but it’s nothing new. 

“Taemin’s just protective,” Taehyung says softly. “Especially considering the stories.”

“The ones about me, you mean.”

A myriad of emotions passes through his eyes when he nods, and you wish you could more easily decipher them. Maybe in time, you will. 

Maybe.

“Those, yes,” He says softly. “But he’ll learn.” He doesn’t say it, but nonetheless, you hear the words as clear as day. Just like I did.  

Someone hums behind you and you glance over to see a woman - the strawberry thief - making her way into the kitchen. She gives Taehyung a look you don’t care enough to figure out, and they have an entire conversation in the span of five minutes. Something about it irks you, and it only gets worse when they start moving around each other, Taehyung handing her things without her asking. 

It’s ridiculous, and you know it, but the air gets heavy in your lungs and your head starts to swim and suddenly you’re suffocating. It’s too much, there’s too much here, and you can’t take it anymore. 

The force with which you shove away the counter would have slammed it into the wall were it not already attached. There are slight cracks in the granite tops, though, and there’s just enough clarity as Taehyung calls your name for you to feel guilty about it. It’s not enough to stop you though; you have to get out, you need to get out, before you do something worse, and the cracks in the granite are proof of that. 

You’re out the door in an instant, your form coalescing painfully back into solid matter as you reach the hallway. Your ribs ache, screaming with the effort of trying to mist away from this place, this home , and you lean against the wall in the hope that it will help steady you. 

The door opens behind you, the creak of the old hinges deafening in the silence of the hall. There’s a commotion behind it, voices overlapping each other and reverberating in your skull until they’re a twisted mockery of your siblings. 

You stumble down the hall, one hand clutching your ribs to keep them as still as possible despite your movement. It’s not lost on you that there are footsteps following you, but you can’t focus on them now. You’re not moving fast, and you need to be, you should be running , but you can’t. Your vision is already clouding slightly at the edges, the sudden spike of adrenaline waning now that you’re out of the apartment. 

Someone says your name and you swing. 

It’s instinct, the way your fist flies through the air; you can’t control it, not this, not when the red is all you can see even as it seeps away and turns lilac. It doesn’t matter anyway. You don’t make contact with anything but the wall, plaster crumbling around your fist and onto the carpeted floor. 

“That was rude,” Taehyung says softly. He doesn’t sound mad, though he should, considering you almost decked him straight in the nose. “I’ll take you back.”

He drapes your jacket over your arm and walks away, toward emergency stairs tucked into the corner instead of the elevator, and you follow. He hums as he goes, and he lets you lead the way down the stairs, keeping pace with your quick steps until both of you step out a side door into an alleyway. 

Out of habit, more than anything, you light a cigarette and put it between your lips. You don’t miss the disgusted scrunch of Taehyung’s nose, but you do ignore it. The smoke is familiar in lungs, comforting, and he doesn’t understand it, won’t ever understand it, but he doesn’t have to. 

“Sorry, Tae,” You say after a few minutes of silence. Taehyung shrugs one shoulder and moves to lean beside you against the stone of the building. 

“Are you okay now?” You nod, taking a deep breath, remembering how Hestia had taught you, so long ago, how her hand felt against your chest, the warmth and love it held. “Then you’re forgiven. And you can call me Calliope, if you want.”

You’re both quiet after that. He doesn’t make fun of you, he doesn’t judge you, he just silently drives you back to Suho’s bar, which is when you remember that he doesn’t know where you live. You’re fine with it; you don’t want to see him in your run down hovel. It’s not much, especially compared to his own apartment, but that makes sense, too. 

What could ever live up to the home of a Muse? Not even a muse, really. The Muse. The Head of the Nine Muses, the one called on most often by those in need, the one that everyone knew, the one that Hephaestus just put statues of in the gardens of Olympus, according to the rumors that Apollo sent you. 

The calm that he brings lasts until you get back to your apartment, nearly ten full minutes after you disappear into the alley beside Suho’s bar. It’s the longest the calm has ever lasted, and the view of the city tinted lavender is one you think you love. 

If you can love. 

Things get clearer, somehow. The weight on your shoulders lessens, makes you feel less like Atlas and more like you, how you were all those years ago in the now-ancient days when things made sense. When people fought for honor and glory and justice more than they fought for oil and death and greed. 

It could be because open mic nights are frequent around the city, and you’re able to figure out his schedule pretty well. You don’t go every night that he sings, just when it gets to be too much, when the scarlet haze starts to bleed into your irises like a flag in front of a bull. It helps, for a while, lets you settle long enough to pull the pieces of you back into a shape that vaguely resembles yourself. 

It could be because the fights happen every night, and Taehyung is no stranger to where to look to find them. He watches every one that he can, when he isn’t singing, and his presence anchors you. Focuses you, so that you can pull your punches just enough, so that there’s less hurting and more fighting. It doesn’t work every time, you still lose yourself in the rage and do more damage than you ever mean to, but it helps enough. And when it doesn’t, he’s there, to slide a hand across your shoulders in that exact same way that Hestia used to, that Apollo might if you let him close enough to know you’re alive, that Artemis would , were she anywhere but where she is. 

It’s a strange feeling. You’re not used to companionship, you don’t know how to have friends. You still say the wrong things and do the wrong things and he still speaks to you like he expects to be listened to, but you both are learning. You apologize more often, and he corrects himself quicker. It’s a slow, fragile thing, this friendship, but it’s there. 

Until the night when it’s not. 

You aren’t sure how it happens. It’s been weeks since you last saw Taehyung; he mentioned some project he was working on, something or another that would have most of his attention along with that of several of the other Muses. You had brushed it off when he said it, some snide remark about how you don’t need him there to win. 

You would take it back if you could. 

Because you were right, of course, you don’t need him there to win; you can do that on your own. And your control has gotten better, stronger, over the last few months, but complacency is what always leads to disaster. 

The guy deserved it, is what you tell yourself as you’re pulled out of the ring. He was a piece of shit anyway, you remind yourself as you call Apollo with shaking hands. He didn’t deserve your mercy, you tell the golden gold after you’ve begged him to help save the man’s life. Artemis would have done the same, you insist to him, long after he’s hung up the phone and left to follow the ambulance to the hospital. 

You don’t go to Suho’s. You can’t bear it, not when he might be there, not when he would read it on your face in a heartbeat. You don’t want to watch the disappointment crumble into something more familiar, something worse, you can’t watch him look at you with the knowledge that your siblings are right, that they’ve always been right, that you’re nothing better than a crazed animal. 

The club is packed full when you get there. The bartender starts to pour you a drink and you just take the bottle, leaving a too-thick wad of bills in return. The bourbon tickles as it goes down but it warms your stomach and distracts you from the haze in your mind, the repetitive beat of they were right they were right they were right they were-

“Whoops, sorry,” someone says, a second before they knock into your shoulder. You’ve been around long enough to know a fake fall, and you scowl as you glance towards them. 

He’s cute. Taller than you, with skin that would hide the marks you so love to create, and hair that looks like it would be soft in your hands. His clothes fit well, and they look like they were chosen for comfort over style despite the way he walks like a model in them, which you always find attractive. 

The smile that slips onto your face is familiar, as is the way you bring your hand up to rest on his hip in an effort to steady him. 

“Don’t worry about it, sweetheart,” You tell him, not being subtle in the way you eye him. He looks soft; you love them soft. “You headed to get a drink?”

“I might be,” He says teasingly, a coy grin forming on his lips. 

“I’ve got something better, if you’re interested.”

His eyes roam along your body, his breath drawing somewhat quicker when he notices the scrapes on your knuckles. “I might be.”

It takes five minutes to get him to a corner quiet enough to talk. Less than three to get your lips on his. One and a half to start sucking a mark into his neck that makes him moan so pretty you can’t help but want to hear it again. 

One of your hands is up his shirt, playing with the pebbled buds and the metal pierced through them, while the other teasingly massages the skin of his hip when he’s torn away from you roughly. 

“What the fuck?” Your voice growls as you look up. The guy is standing there, looking for all the world like he’s ready to run, but he isn’t watching you. 

No, his eyes are on a familiar sight; Taehyung, his hair now a pretty lavender that makes you think of a home you don’t have, even as he doesn’t look at you. 

“Taken,” He growls, releasing the collar of the guy you had every intent to make cry with pleasure. The guy scurries off before you can stop him, though, and you don’t bother to hide your disdain. 

“What the fuck is your problem?” You demand, already lighting a cigarette as you head outside. Taehyung follows, pulling it from between your lips and crushing it in his hands before you have the chance to get your lighter out.

“Me? You looked like you were about to eat him .” He follows you all the way to the street outside and down the sidewalk, pulling each cigarette out of your hands before you can light it. He waits until you’re a decent distance from the crowd outside the club before he stops you, one hand lightly encircling your wrist. 

Your boots scuff against the ground as you stop, not turning to look at him. You’re too afraid to, too worried he’ll see it all on your face and just know that you’ve fucked up, maybe beyond repair. 

“Apollo called me,” is what he says instead. “Said I might want to find you tonight.”

You should’ve known. That little fuck, of course he would rat you out. 

“I didn’t-” 

The words choke in your throat. You want to say you don’t need him. You don’t need him to come running like you’re some scared little girl who can’t control her strength, you don’t need him to piece you back together because you aren’t broken, you don’t need him because you don’t need anyone, you never have. 

“I know you didn’t,” Taehyung says quietly. “I know he deserved it, I know what he did, and I know you didn’t mean to.”

Something inside of you breaks and you find yourself shaking. 

“He hurt her , Tae, I heard it, I heard her telling her friend about it on the phone, I saw her crying, I saw her clothes, okay, he-”

“I know,” Taehyung says, pulling you into a loose hug. “I know you did, it’s okay. He’s going to be okay. He’s not gonna escape his punishment from that, you didn’t send anyone to Hades today. It’s okay.”

The cloud struggles, for what feels like hours. Guilt settles like lead in your stomach, and you wish you weren’t so used to the feeling. The rage returns every time you remember what that girl looked like, what she sounded like on the phone, how you felt when you realized it was your competitor who had done that to her. 

There’s no honor in that. There’s no justice, no glory, in beating an opponent who was never aware they were in the ring, and it makes your blood boil all over again. Taehyung’s voice soothes you, slightly, makes the edges of your vision turn indigo, but it isn’t enough. 

It’s never enough. 

“I have to go,” You say, pulling yourself away from him. “I need- I have to find-”

“A distraction,” He finishes for you, too aware that you can’t find the words you need. “Some mortal that you can bruise and break and bang until you feel less like a monster?”

That’s exactly what you want to do, what you had been about to do with that guy at the club, and it’s only Taehyung’s voice calling your name in that soft, sweet way of his that makes you wonder if that’s not a good plan. 

“I’ll be a distraction, if you need one.” You whip your head around, staring at him, but he doesn’t flinch. “I’m sturdier than the mortals, I can take more. Let me be your distraction.”

“I…” You hesitate. You don’t know why. You shouldn’t even be entertaining this idea, it’s not a good one, but then...when have any of your ideas been good? “I can’t fuck in a house with eight other people.”

“You have an apartment,” He says easily. “Let’s go there.”

It’s a bad idea. You don’t do that, you don’t fuck people at your apartment, you don’t have people in your apartment, it’s your space. It’s a bad idea, it can only end in disaster. 

“Okay.”

Taehyung’s lips are soft against yours, yielding and pliant just the way you’re used to. His hands are big and warm against your ass, even through your jeans, and the feeling gives you the courage to slide your own under the ridiculously patterned button-down he’s wearing. 

He lets you lead the way through the door, kicking it closed behind you with slightly too much force. Your apartment is small, a studio with a bed tucked in the corner for the rare times that you need it. 

You push Taehyung onto it and slide yourself onto his lap, already grinding down onto the hard length you can feel there. He's not quite as enthusiastic, but his fingers are like steel against you, pulling you down with every rut of your hips. 

This, you can do. This, you're familiar with. 

You push on his shoulders, doing your best to get him on his back so you can have better access to the clasp of his jeans, but he resists. You try again, firmer, using a harsh suck against his skin as a distraction, but he still doesn't go. 

Frustrated, you pull back. 

"Not like this," He says. His voice clears some of the fog, and you frown. 

"Do you want to be on top, then? Because I don't mind, I just need it," You tell him. He sighs a little, but he flips the two of you over so he's kneeling between your open legs and your back is cushioned against the mattress. 

"How long has it been since you spent the night with someone who knows who you are?" He asks, pressing a kiss to your cheek as he sits back on his knees. 

You shift, uncomfortable. "A while. Why does that matter? Just fuck me."

"No," Taehyung says, voice gentle but firm. You cock a brow at him and move to get out from under him, but he stills you with a hand on your thigh. 

"You are a goddess," He tells you, trailing his hands down so he can undo the laces on your steel-toe boots and slide them off. "You have held Victory in your palms and set her free." 

His palms burn through the denim on your thighs, but you welcome it as he slides your jacket over your shoulders to the bed beneath. 

"You are the winner of wars. You are the one who grants battlefield wishes. You are the dead's escort to Hades." He leans down, pressing a soft kiss against your cheek and then down your throat. 

He pulls back as he gets to your collarbone, eyes blown wide with unfamiliar desire, and it makes your breath catch in your throat.

"You," Taehyung tells you, with desire in his eyes and belief in his voice, "Deserve to be treated like the goddess that you are, with the respect you have earned, and the care you deserve." 

As often as you fuck people, it's been a very long time since anyone wanted to fuck you for any reason beyond your appearance and the personality you show them. But this? This look in the muse's eyes as his hands settle on your knees as he waits? 

Taehyung wants to fuck you because you're you. Not despite it, not because he doesn't know . He has seen you at your worst and yet he keeps coming back, keeps showing up as you fall apart. Each time he stays, hands you a basket so you can pick the pieces of yourself up off the ground, holds the tape so you can mash it back together, and is ready to help steady you when you start to crumble again. 

He's here for you , to treat you in a way no one has ever treated you before. He's your friend.

He cares.

You nod, however tentatively, and his lips are on yours in an instant. They're firmer now, less pliable and more controlling, but you don't mind. Not this time. 

Not with Taehyung. 

His hands don't hesitate as he strips you both of your clothes, but you can feel it each time he checks to make sure you're okay. The way that he watches your expression, the tense of your muscles under him, the cadence of your gasps for air between kisses, he reads all of it as clear as if it's a book in front of him. He slows down before you can stop him, his lips drawing back from the kisses he draws across your thighs, and he speeds up as your thoughts start to drift, swiping his tongue and two fingers through your folds to tease and bring your attention back to him. 

His fingers bury themselves in your heat, crooking slightly to brush against that soft part of you that makes the world spin, and it's all too intense. His lips are hardly even touching your skin, just pressing gentle kisses against the skin of your thigh, a gentle complement to the way he glides his fingers in and out of you, slow and steady and delicious, but it's absolutely intoxicating. 

He's talkative, too; he gives you constant praise. He tells you how well you take his fingers, how good you look with his fingers inside you, how absolutely fantastic you taste on his tongue, how he'd live between your thighs if he could. 

It's too much, and you can't be sure why, not when your orgasm is approaching quicker than it ever has, not when your walls clench around him and you soak your sheets, not when he's cleaning your cum off his fingers with his tongue.

"Good," He purrs. "Now you're all warmed up." 

His mouth hits your heat without hesitation or warning, before the aftershocks are even finished, and your hips buck upwards. His arms slide underneath your thighs only to grip them and bring them back down. You can't move much in his grip except to grind your pussy against his mouth, which he seems to enjoy, if the muffled grunts that escape him are any indication.

He doesn't stop until his tongue is buried inside you with one finger drawing lazy circles on your clit and you're cumming again, hands gripping the soft strands of his hair so tight that you would be afraid of pulling it out if you could focus on anything besides the feel of him against you.

He lets you ride the aftershock, this time. Waits until your pants die down slightly, until you're back in your mind. 

"Good?" He asks you. His voice is deeper, rumbles instead of slides, but it breaks through the post-orgasm haze long enough for you to nod. “More?”

“More,” you agree, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders and pulling him into a heated kiss. You haven’t been this clear-headed in a while. Every sensation is clear and crisp, every sound heightened, everything is simultaneously more while also being exactly what it’s always supposed to have been. 

Taehyung’s cock is everything you could have expected from a muse; thick, long, beautiful, and it fills you in a way that’s indescribable as he slides inside. He groans at the feeling, deep and throaty and beautiful, and begins his thrusts nearly immediately. 

It’s as slow as he was with his fingers; steady and forceful, but unhurried. As if he wants to take his time. As if he wants to savor it. Savor you . 

“Do you have any idea how amazing you are?” He mutters, almost as an afterthought. “What you look like right now, what you look like when you’re fighting, when you’ve won and you’re triumphant? It’s fucking addictive, seeing that confidence in you.”

“Shit, Tae, don’t stop-”

“It’s so fucking intoxicating,” He groans, pace quickening. Your arms wrap around him more fully, nails like claws down his back as you arch your back to get him deeper. “You get this look in your eyes, like you can do anything you fucking want to, and it’s so fucking brilliant, because you can , you can do anything and everything you ever fucking want to do, and no one can stop you.”

A whine you’ll never admit to escapes your throat, and Taehyung drives his cock further into you. 

“Let go, my sweet,” Taehyung purrs in your ear. “Let yourself relax, just this once. For me.”

His hand touches your clit and it’s so much, too much , you’re feeling everything so intensely that it takes a solid minute to realize you’re coming down from an orgasm. Taehyung has stilled inside you, unmoving but groaning as you flutter around him, and you push weakly at his shoulder. 

He slides himself out of you, looking entirely too proud of wet spot underneath you and glistening against his lower stomach. You wobble your way up to rest your elbows underneath you, and it’s like he can sense your words before they come. 

“No,” He says simply. “I don’t you to get me off with your mouth.”

“A hand then? I don’t want you to leave unsatisfied.” 

A frown pulls at the corner of his mouth, and he leans down just enough that your lips are almost touching, a not-there kiss that you can only wish for. 

“In what world is fucking you to the point of Elysium unsatisfying?”

The crowd around you is deafening; some of them are cheering for you, but the majority are rooting for your downfall. Such is the life of a challenging the champion, you suppose. 

You don’t know how Taehyung found this place; maybe Artemis had heard rumors, or maybe he searched for it himself. You can’t bring yourself to care, not when you’ve got someone worth fighting on the other side of the arena. 

The sand crunches beneath your feet. It’s hot, hotter than it should be since you’re still wearing your signature jeans and boots - without the jacket this time. You learned from that mistake. 

Your vision tints pink as you size up your opponent; he’s massive, not one to be easily defeated, and you relish the challenge. It’s been so long since you’ve fought a giant. Excitement thrums under your veins as he turns to you. He scoffs. 

If you had a little less control, you might be flying across the arena already. He clearly has no idea who’s standing across from him. Probably thinks you’re some demigod, come to challenge him for the fleece he isn’t supposed to have. 

He’ll learn. 

Something moves in the distance. It should blend in, considering how dark it is, but instead it draws your eye, and you don’t even question why. You would recognize him anywhere, have recognized him everywhere, and his presence calms you. Makes you remember a few nights ago, falling into bed in a hotel in Rome because the burn was to much and you needed him to help you release it. 

“Try not to be too quick, princess,” The giant across from you huffs. You cock a brow and send a look to your muse, who just rolls his eyes, despite the smile playing across his face. 

Violet rings your vision as you ready your stance. The announcer yells something that’s lost over the noise of the crowd. Taehyung leans forward, elbows on his knees, excitement and pride in his eyes. 

The giant swings. 

[winterromanov]

know it’s for the better - bucky x reader

pairing: college!bucky x reader

part of the will we talk? universe

prompt:  what about college!bucky during quarantine? their school gets shut down... do they stay together? how does it go?

a/n: a repost bc the ‘read more’ fucked up on the ask and idk??? what happened??? but here u go. about 2k words

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know it’s for the better

The semester is not supposed to end like this. No, there are supposed to be parties and laughter and getting wine drunk on the roof, bare legs dangling into New York City. There are supposed to be finals, and library study sessions, and football games in hot, summer rain. There are supposed to be more nights tucked in the twin bed in your dorm room with Bucky’s arm looped round your waist, fingers splayed across your bare skin.

Instead it’s the beginning of March and everything is over. You could feel it coming like storm clouds, black and ominous, hovering on the horizon. The virus has been hovering on your periphery for an embarrassingly long time. As your twitter timeline became more and more scary and the news could talk of little else, it has become frighteningly and anxiously real. Life—everywhere, but particularly in New York—is never going to be the same.

You have no choice but to pack up your little dorm room and return home. Your mom had frantically booked you a flight out, worrying that in less than a week they could be suspended altogether. The virus has been spreading furiously in the city. A place you now call home could be one of the most dangerous places in the world.

And yet…the thought of leaving behind everything so abruptly is killing you. It’s not even school, despite loving it so much. It’s not the college lifestyle or your friends or just having the freedom to waltz wherever you want without fear.

It’s Bucky.

You leave New York, you have to leave him. And God knows how long that might be for.

“Y/N.” His voice is soft, barely a whisper. Bucky has been quietly watching you fill suitcases with clothes, cardboard boxes with belongings. Every so often it looks like he is going to help, but he thinks twice about it, like he can’t bear this is happening. “Y/N…could we, like, stop for a second?”

“My flight leaves first thing in the morning,” you say, refusing to turn and look at him. Your eyes well up as your tear Polaroids and ticket stubs and a sketch Steve did for you from your corkboard, unable to look at those either. They’re just reminders of everything you’re leaving and will never be the same again. “I don’t have time. I just need to get this done, okay?”

“I can’t just keep watching you do this and not talk about what’s going to happen next!”

“Well, maybe you could fucking help, then.”

You never swear, not really, and you can feel Bucky’s expression burning into the back of your skull. Hurt, surprise, desperation. “Let me help. Let me understand what is going through your head.”

“I—I didn’t mean that kind of help, I just need to pack these damn bags…”

Bucky’s hands touch your shoulders. It should feel familiar, his limbs and yours colliding. But he feels like fire. It feels like you’re going to have his handprints burnt into your skin, red and raw, a tattoo of the one real relationship you’ve ever had.

Because he knows just as well as you do that…it’s not going to work, is it? School is over. There is a fucking pandemic going on outside, and you live all the way on the other side of the country whilst he is and always will be a Brooklyn boy. You were supposed to have a whole semester and the summer to sort out what came next, to establish the foundations of your future together, if there was definitely going to be one. And that’s been ripped underneath you like a traumatic tablecloth.

You love him. You love him so fucking much. But is it fair to try and keep going when everything is like this?

“You know my mom and dad would love you to move in,” he says, “You can quarantine with us, see how things go. I just—I just don’t want you to leave. Please don’t leave.”

“Bucky. Please. That’s not fair.” You say, eyes fluttering closed. “We haven’t lived together before and…how do you know we’d work like that? This is serious, and terrifying, and I need to be somewhere I feel safe.”

“You don’t feel safe with me?”

At that you turn to face him, seeing the desperate pain in his eyes. You run your hands across his jawline, cupping at his neck. One tear runs across and down your wrist and he looks away, embarrassed. “Sweetheart. You know that’s not what I meant.”

“God. Yeah. I know, darl’. I know.” He kisses your hand softly. “With everything going on, (Y/N), my future feels a lot more certain knowing you’ll still be in it.”

You fall into his chest, inhaling him in. That woody, fresh scent of his cologne, coffee and mint and dark chocolate. You want to wrap yourself up in him and drown. Escape to a place where time is irrelevant, and nothing ever ends.

“I need to be with my family, Bucky. My mom is worried about me. I can’t put her through me staying here, even if I wanted to. And your mom would be the same.”

“I get that. I do. But you’re—you’re making it sound like that we have to break up.” You lean out of his embrace, his tear-filled eyes scrutinising you. “Are…we breaking up?”

Your mouth opens, swinging like a door on a loose hinge as you try and say something. Eloquence usually comes to you easy, when talking about the books you read for class. It’s one of the things Bucky first noticed about you, your fervent love for language. But there are no words for this. Just empty, agonising silence.

“Why do we have to break up?” He asks, voice cracked in two like a broken porcelain vase. “Why is that what you immediately resort to? There are thousands of ways we could make this work. Starting with the fact that I love you. Is that not enough to even try?”

You pause. Your room, once your safe haven, now feels torturous and unbearable. Suffocating. You bite your lip, tears burning behind your eyelids. “I would love to say yes, Bucky, but I don’t know. I just—I don’t want to be a few weeks down the line, you here and me in Colorado, finding out that it hasn’t worked and it isn’t enough and we have to break up over fucking Skype or…I don’t know, slowly ghost each other into nothingness? I would a million times over rather end it here where I love you than then where I don’t.”

“That is the worst logic I’ve ever heard. Literally the worst. You are assuming the absolute worst of both of us, and…” he runs a frantic hand through his hair. “You know what, if that’s what you think, maybe you’re right. If you have that little faith in me—us—now, maybe we should call it quits.”

“Bucky—”

“I’m going to leave. Have a good trip home.” He looks around your room for one last second but does not meet your gaze. “Have a really fucking good trip home.”

Bucky hovers for a moment by the door, like he’s waiting for one last glimmer of hope. That you might ask him to stay because even…even after all that, he still would drop everything for you to say stay.

But you don’t. The door reverberates loudly in the frame on his way out.

-

You don’t break down, which surprises you. For a little while after he leaves, when you try to immerse yourself in packing and singing along to Taylor Swift from your speaker, you think that it’s for the best. It is, it is, because it can’t work and it won’t work and this will save pain further down the line.

But the hours pass and silence creeps in to your now empty, echoing dorm room, absent of the vibrant life that once occupied it and—your heart feels wrong. This is not freeing, or a relief. This is not the ending you wanted.

You go to get a shower and Bucky’s sports towel is hung over one of the empty cubicles. You turn the tap as hot as it can get it, drowning the whole room in steam and something switches within you. The tears start and they refuse to stop, wracking your body like convulsions.

You fucked it. You well and truly fucked one of the only things that could have got you through all of this, even if you’re over a thousand miles away. It’s like Bucky said. The future is uncertain and scary and untenable, but it feels a hell of a lot more definite with him in it.

You wrap yourself in your towel and walk back into the corridor. Wiping your eyes, there’s a shape in a red jersey hovering next to your door.

“Bucky?”

He turns, his jaw tight and eyes rimmed with red. “Y/N.”

He doesn’t have to say anything else. You run over to him, grabbing fistfuls of him desperately, like he’s going to flare and fade from you forever. His arms wrap around you with equal vigour, warm and panicky and home.

“I didn’t mean it.” You say, your words swallowed up by his ribcage. “Dear God, I didn’t mean it, I didn’t mean it, I didn’t mean it.”

You can feel him sob, body trembling in your arms. “Thank God.”

“I don’t know what will happen next. I haven’t got a fucking clue. But I know I want you there, okay? However it turns out.” You bring his lips down for a kiss tinged with hot water and steam, relief and pure, young, beautiful love. Your foreheads gently rest together. Another quick kiss. “I love you. I love you.”

He kisses you again, like he’s trying to fit in as many as he can. Like he’s packing them all into a suitcase for you to relive, one by one by one, when you’re at home and everything feels like its crumbling.

It will never crumble completely. You know this, because James Buchanan Barnes is your foundations, and he made it pretty fucking clear on day one when he grinned at you in sophomore year Russian lit. You both love novels because you love stories. You love beginnings and ends and everything in between, the climaxes and the romances, murders and death and life—you love breaking apart character, brutally analysing fictional lives and motives. But most of all, you love the feeling of watching characters you adore falling completely and utterly in love. You have spent years trying to define your favourite love story amongst the hundreds you’ve read, but you never thought—

All that time, all you had to do was wait.

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