#become the prey of zero

[yandere-romanticaa]

Low key building upon this post. Why? Because it was originally supposed to be more smutty but I'm a chicken who can't write smut, so I tried dipping my toes here. Nothing too extreme mind you, I'm still a big baby. Sue me. This was also written in a cafe in like, under 20 minutes so...

"I won't make you do anything you don't want to."

That mantra has been inside of your head for months now, ever since the bastard hunter took you. In some strange way, he did somewhat keep that promise and that made you feel so damn bitter. Kinich only really forced you to do the utmost basic necessities to keep you sane and alive - nothing more, nothing less.

He was still the same old Kinich you knew. Nothing was free of charge. The only reason why he still kept you around was because it made him feel good, or so he liked to remind you every so often.

That was precisely why the current predicament you were in was so damn bizarre.

Kinich panted beneath you, his eyes widened in shock as the faintest outline of blush dusted his cheeks, his shoulders quivering ever so slightly as you held him tightly on the bed. His arms found your hips and swiftly settled there, occasionally groping the soft skin whenever the opportunity arose.

Never in his wildest dreams could Kinich have predicted that you would ever greet him home like this.

Practically giving him no room to breathe, he was pounced on like a hunter does to its prey, giving him absolutely zero time to react. Your movements were desperate and clumsy but he did not care, not when everything felt so damn good. Kinich stared at you through half lidded eyes, his gaze seeping with exhaustion but want, so much so that he was inclined to gently nibble on your lower lip, which he gladly did.

A small noise escaped you, a silly mixture between a whimper and a cry but to Kinich's ears, it felt as though the gates of heaven had been opened.

Slipping his tongue in, he swiftly sealed your lips with his own, your own saliva and spit merging with his in some sort of flimsy but erotic dance. It was messy, he noted as he felt the spit gently trailing down his cheek, which he did not care about whatsoever. Your touch was hotter than the sun and it set his whole body ablaze with a lust which he had never felt before.

Was it normal for a person to want another this badly?

It most likely was not, Kinich reasoned. But that same reason was thrown out the fucking window once he felt your hips being pressed into his own, grinding ever so lightly against him. It was sudden but good, more than plain old good actually.

Kinich could hear your pants but chose not to pay attention to them. He was going to fight you on this for as long as he could, he was never going to stop kissing you if he could have his way.

Even so, Kinich himself felt his lungs burning for sweet air, but his heart was beating straight out of his chest and his mind was in tatters.

He cannot let you go. Not when you finally had given into him.

With his brute strength, Kinich broke free from your hold and roughly grabbed you by the waist, switching places that now you were the one who was pinned. He broke the kiss, finally, and slowly brought his arm up to his face, wiping away the spit off his lips. He stared down at you in a frenzy as he took the sight in - eyes screwed shut with a pained look on your face, heavy pants leaving your lips as you desperately tried to regain your composure but kept utterly failing each time.

It was so damn cute, he muttered wistfully.

Ever the opportunist, Kinich dove back down once more, his lips on yours again. One hand kept your arms pinned above your head while the other was lowered down towards your shirt, his skilled fingers ripping the fabric off. You yelped beneath him, not expecting the sudden force but that was alright too.

It simply added on to the cuteness.

Kinich felt himself growing harder by the second, his pants becoming more and more uncomfortable. He lost count with how many nights he had wasted away daydreaming about this exact moment - you, on his bed, stuffed full of his cock as his name was chanted like a sick love spell, over and over and over - let the whole valley hear, heck, let absolutely every human and beast hear who was making you feel so good. Your pleasure was officially in his hands now and there was no turning back now.

That was the initial idea, at least.

"HEY, HEY! What do you two freaks think you're doing?!"

Ajaw's shrill scream rang throughout the entire hut, its body now a mixture of bright orange and angry red, its tiny arms raised as high as they could be as it continued to complain.

"Kinich! I knew you were a freak but this crosses the line, even for YOU !" yelled the tiny dragon creature, its sharp gaze now stuck on you both.

"Sick perverts! How dare you subject the Mighty Dragon Lord to such an uncouth sight!"

Ajaw continued to complain over and over again as Kinich slowly distanced himself from you. He still lay there on top of you, albeit with his back fully straight now as his gaze became hollow. You could not tell if he was trying to tune out Ajaw or if he was listening intently but that question would be answered soon enough.

Still loudly complaining, Ajaw continued to prattle on and on, forcing Kinich to let out a very long and frustrated sigh. With a cool gaze Kinich raised his arm slightly in the air, his back still turned towards Ajaw as he made the "come here" motion with his finger. The tiny dragon obliged, thinking that his servant was going to give him a proper apology which he rightfully deserved - only to be met with the harshest smack across the head he had ever felt.

The impact was so loud that it echoed loudly across the entire room. Ajaw landed on the ground, dazed entirely and just stayed there, not making a sound. Still on top of you, Kinich lazily checked the ground to see where Ajaw had landed, and once he was satisfied with the findings, Kinich nodded to himself, his entire focus being shifted back towards you. With an outstretched arm, he placed a hand at the back of your head and gave your neck a soft but determined kiss. From the corner of your eye, you could see the faint outlines of the marks on his body beginning to glow but you did not know why, nor did you bother to ask.

Your body felt a little lighter as Kinich got up, the entire bed suddenly so much more free and cozy. Grabbing the hem of the blanket felt like the right thing to do, which you did. Kinich stood by the bed and watched you for a few seconds, his palm pressing your head down towards the pillow as he tucked you in.

"You did good tonight." he praised softly.

"I'll make sure to be a little nicer towards you. After all, how could I not be after tonight?" said Kinich with a snort, his lips forming into a smug smirk. You growled under your breath, frustrated to see your captor see so damn happy but you knew that in the long run, this was the best thing to do. A happy Kinich was a good Kinich.

It just made things easier. And that was the stone cold truth.

With a light pep in his step, Kinich walked towards the exit, grabbing his jacket along the way.

"I'll be out late tonight, commission. If Ajaw hadn't interrupted... I would have completely forgotten about it."

His tone was flat but cool, low key signaling that he was indeed telling the truth. Saying nothing, you covered your head with the fuzzy blanket and heard Kinich laugh under his breath one last time before leaving you to your own devices.

Times like these felt perfect for an escape attempt but experience had taught you well. No matter how far you went, Kinich would just track you down and bring you back by the ear if he had to.

He definitely had the monster like strength to do so.

With a huff you closed your eyes, blushing a little as you felt the pleasurable heat down your body, causing your legs to press themselves shut on instinct. The best thing to do now was to get some rest, nothing more, nothing less. The day had been long and draining, which only added to your sleepiness. In less than a few minutes darkness had taken over, your mind and body completely shut off from the rest of the world.

Meanwhile on the ground next to you, Ajaw quickly opened one eye and kept an ear out. Once he realized that you were fast asleep, only one thing could be said.

"Darn it."

[pinescent-and-gingerbread]

✧Night Moths

✦ Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader ✦ Summary: Arthur has a simple task to do, searching for any lead possible at the Mayor's party. Only problem? You also have a job of your own. Based on “The Gilded Cage” ✦ Warnings/tags: guns, strangers to…sinners?, SMUT 18+, reader is part of a St Denis gang, cover names used at first, smoking, Arthur is extremely horny and a little rough with you (you pushed his limits), cursing, outdoor sex, fingering, tits play, multiple orgasms, unprotected p in v ✦ Words: 9,8k ✦ a/n: YES. I KNOW. This is super long. I have absolutely zero excuse. I feel like this is my best piece yet, but I'm so nervous about posting it! Once again, a big thank you to the incredible @zae-heeyyy, my jedi master, my confidence-booster and patience Queen, who beta-read this big baby and helped me so much with so many things, as always. (Go check her blog I'm begging you)

Glasses are twinkling and clinking all around you. Words are spoken, laughs are let out, champagne drank.

You're leaning against one of the stoned garden walls, fancy decor of the Mayor's house, the perfectly cut bushes looking just as fresh and neat as every guest at this party. You can hear the distinguished music coming from a quartet playing under a gazebo a few meters away from you, and smell the fresh air of the night blending with aromas of flowers, expensive alcohol, hint of vanilla and sweet scents hiding a stronger note of sweat and cologne. Around you, all the richest, wealthiest, and noteworthiest of people in St Denis. You can hear them talk; their conversation as dull and superficial as an empty chrysalid, an abandoned cocoon emptied from all substance, from all interest and life.

You hated those kinds of discussions. Hated those kinds of people, the ones that have the easiest and simplest life one could ever have; being fed, being cared for, even being told what to think and do. You almost envied them in a way, they didn't have to worry about a single thing apart from losing their power. It seemed comfortable somehow, worry-free. The exact opposite of what you had always known.

And yet, you had to bear with them. A very specific task had been assigned to you by your gang. A simple job, one you were often sent off to as you had grown by the years into a great thief and a terribly efficient shapeshifter; blending into any type of party, or gathering, always making a good impression, putting people at ease. You were now an expert at this little game, especially with rich men. They were all the same, always wanting more, demanding the same thing from you. You had learned how to play with their greediness and lust to turn it into your advantage, saloons becoming your jungle as you sneaked easily between your prey to rob them, a deadly and redoubtable leopard in a world of apes.

You needed to steal some important documents from the mayor's office. The main informer of your gang had specified it was a pretty strong lead, and that you could gain a lot from it; something to do with Leviticus Cornwall's dirty deeds with the mayor, a blackmail opportunity. 

Your boss had decided to send you, knowing you would easily integrate the party, and even more easily steal the documents. So here you were, feline eyes looking all around you, scanning, observing, evaluating. You couldn't just come, steal the papers, and go; it would have been too suspicious. All the contrary, you needed to be seen and leave a good impression like you always did, maybe stay for a couple of hours, and then smoothly retrieve your goal before disappearing in the secrecy of the dark night. A flamboyant, harmless butterfly… on the surface.

You sighed, trying to pay attention to what was being said to you. Right in front of you, a middle-aged man was talking, explaining something about how he had acquired his incredible wealth. His speech was sadly boring, his eyes glum, his clothes basic, his face awfully bland.

The empty chrysalis in all its gloomy glory.

You forced yourself to nod and give the man a charming smile. This was your job. You had to at least do it properly. Why was tonight a lot harder than the others? Were you frightened to be right under the Mayor's nose, fooling him into his own home? Were you tired, or sick? 

In a way, you were. Sick of this life, of this constant pretending, of being here listening to the literal hollow vessel bragging about himself, sick of needing to appear actually interested, charmed even. 

Suddenly, the music coming from the quartet is too loud, sharp violin blending with his words, making you even less focused. You were here for too long already, you needed a break and to finish your mission.

You politely interrupted the stranger, placing a gentle hand on his forearm, a gesture that you had noticed was prompt to soften most men. Along with your most charming smile, you excused yourself from him and quickly walked to a less crowded area, praying that no one would interrupt you.

You made your way up to the exterior stairs of the luxurious mansion just before the patio door and windows, and stopped on top of them, placing your hands on the central low wall, between two Greek columns. Another fancy facade, the house itself was just an imitation from another culture. Did any of these fools have any personal identity at all?

From here, you had a good view of the whole party. Countless fake smiles, masks, a literal scene of a play that could have its place at the Théâtre Râleur. A play of pale phantom shells.

You reached for your purse, taking a cigarette out, mindlessly putting it between your lips. Maybe smoking would help. You searched for a match, silently cursing realizing you hadn't any left.

"Ya need some fire, Ma’am?"

A deep voice said behind you, making you turn, surprised. It was unusual for people to startle you, your ears had been trained to notice the faintest of footsteps in order to survive.

You got even more surprised considering who had talked. A man was standing before you. He was taller, and largely wider than you, his black suit struggling to contain what looked like a well-built body; which made you wonder how could he have been so quiet. His shoulders especially looked way broader than the men you had the habit of running into at those sorts of gatherings. A very classical white bow looked like it was strangling him. His black tailcoat and white jacket looked larger too, making you wonder how much did he had to pay for the tailor to sew them custom-made.

His hair had a soft indescribable color, somewhere between a light brown and a sandy blond. His face, the work of a brutal draftsman, rough edges and strong squared jaw gratified with some scars. One on his chin, another on his nose, nose that seemed broken now that you were thinking about it. It looked like the artist that had drawn this man had sharpened his pencils too much and traced lines in a hurry, piercing through the canvas, his features ending up rugged and scared, some trace of graphite shrapnel that would have damaged the portrait.

What disturbed you the most were his eyes. They looked out of place considering how robust his features were. One could have expected them to be dark, black even. But they were the exact opposite, their bright and soft indigo color leaving you disarmed, two sapphires locked on your own pupils.

He was handing you a match, and you slowly took it, your fingers slightly discovering how his palm felt under them. Firm, calloused.  Another stone-like feature of him.

He looked like those Greek statues carved by artists. His beauty so singular and yet enticing. So different.

"Why, thank you, kind sir." You showed your gratitude to him with a grin, lighting the match by simply rubbing it against the cold stone of the fence, a little flame appearing instantly. You brought it to your mouth, the cigarette finally catching fire, and you breathed in.

"Ya don't smoke much?" He questioned, voice deep. You hadn't noticed how deep it was the first time, nor how pronounced his accent was, dragging and drawling every word, a slow melody of his own.

"Not too often, indeed." You informed him. It was the truth, you were basically just smoking during jobs to blend in more easily, most people doing it. It was an easy way to start a conversation with anyone. Just like he had done with you, you noted.

"Needed a break from high society?" He inquired, a sarcastic tone in his voice.

"I guess you could say that." You answered, exhaling a long drag of smoke. 

You were now completely turned to face him, your cigarette making back and forth from your mouth to the air where you tossed the burned ashes with a little movement from your thumb to the cigarette’s end. Your motions were elegant, distinguished but looked natural. It caught his interest.

"What's your name, sir?" You spoke again, curious about this uncommon newcomer.

"Tacitus Kilgore. What is yours, Ma'am?" He asked you back before placing himself on your left, both of you leaning on the low fence of the patio. 

You contained a chuckle. There was no way in the World this man was named like this. You knew something was odd about him. The scars, his knuckles redden and subtly wounded as if had fought recently.  His strong stature, miles away from a lazy bourgeois being served, his wild hair longer than the actual trendy haircut, his stubble fitting more a countryman than an actual St Denis gentleman. 

Years of playing with people and observing them had made your eyes alert and expert, and you could see when someone was pretending.

When someone was playing a role just like you were, not belonging into this World.

"Rose Schultz." Of course, it wasn't your real name either. You had to be a really poor thief to give him your actual one. He didn't react to it though, his face impassible just like the start of your whole conversation.

Apart from this vague feeling you had about him not being a rich gentleman, you found trouble in reading his emotions. His facial features were closed, impenetrable, mysterious. This also disturbed you as you had the habits of figuring men out right away; he on the other hand was a whole challenge by himself, his intentions hidden behind an emotionless face. This man probably was a champion at poker.

"Nice t' meet ya, Missus Schultz. Are you, erm, hidin' from someone here? Or jus' judgin' everyone from your perch?" He went on with a more amused voice.

"Just know that I'm not the type to hide from someone, Mister." You replied, a little grin curling up your lips.

"Yeah, you sure don't look like it..."

"You wanna know what I think you look like, Mister?"

"Go ahead."

"A wild horse who's trapped, and can't wait to be freed again."

Silence. His eyes stared deeply into yours, stabbing you in sharp blue flashes of Apatite, as keen as the blade of a knife. After just a few seconds, you finally see his mouth moving, his cold expression changing as a slight grin made his way between the stillness of his features.

"You sort of a witch or somethin' ?" He asked you, amused once again. His little smile is even more evident in his eyes, his lower eyelids crinkling slightly in amusement.

"Maybe." You answered cockily, feeling more at ease with him now that he was slightly more open. 

Still, there was something that was making you feel weak in the knees; maybe it was his tall stature, his strong build, or the palpable tension you could feel beaming out from him, as if he was ready to jump on someone who would have crossed him at any second.

In a way, you liked it. It was almost exciting.

"I better not mess wi’chu then. Don't wanna end up cursed or somethin'." He joked, features relaxing, body leaning slightly more against the low wall in a more comfortable position.

"Oh, I wouldn't dare. You also look like the type of man you don't wanna mess with..."

"I'm surprised how well you already know me, darlin'." He admitted, internally enjoying your conversation more and more.

Your heart swelled at the surname. It felt so good in your ears, it sounded better than from any person who ever said it to you. You wanted to hear it again. You wanted to hear him say it just to you.

"I'm kinda talented at figuring people out." You simply replied, before taking another drag at your cigarette.

"I too. And I also think you're not here to jus' play nice with everyone and enjoy yourself." He suddenly confessed to you with a knowing gaze, eyebrows raising as if he was trying to make you understand something.

He knew too. You both knew you weren't from this world, like two predators from the same species, recognizing themselves, circling, judging, from one individual to another. Your breath stopped for a very short time, nobody could have noticed it, but somehow you were sure he did.

"Don't ya worry little "rose", I won't tell no one..." 

You didn't miss how he was playing with your false name. On top of being astonishingly handsome, he had some spirit…

He's still looking intensely into your eyes. "In return, I expect you to do the same...", he added in a low voice, his tone firmer and even more resonant than earlier.

A threat. His presence only intimidates you, and it's working so well that you're almost sure he must be an expert in terrorizing too. He must be one hell of a weapon all by himself.

You slowly nodded your head, trying to swallow as naturally as possible to look unphased. 

"Guess we have a deal here, "Tacitus"." You emphasized his name, making it clear you're more than doubtful about it being real too.

It made him laugh, and you almost lost it at the sound of it. It was as deep, raw, and genuine as his entire being seemed to be. You loved it. You loved it too much.

Exhaling some smoke, you noticed he had pulled out a cigarette too and had joined your smoking, holding it between his thumb and index finger. You had mixed feelings for this man. He was just as intimidating as he was enticing, and you let your curiosity win the best of you as you carried on your conversation with him.

"I hate it here." You suddenly confessed.

 There was no point in playing anymore, and even if you didn’t really know why you had told him that, a part of you felt like maybe, just maybe, he could have understood you.

"Yeah, I get what ya mean. Sometimes I think that those people are jus'… reptiles in fancy clothin'."

You had seen right. Your chest felt light, as if he had lifted a weight in you with just those simple words.

"I just want to be anywhere else but here. Somewhere nicer, more authentic. Like in Big Valley..." You went on with your regrets.

"You too know about this place uh? Yeah, I can picture ya picking flowers in Lil’ Creek..."

This time it was your turn to chuckle, your laugh creating a little puff of smoke in the air. Was he being serious or just teasing you? You didn’t really care. Now, you felt like something special was linking you both as you knew exactly where this spot was, a happy memory brought back in your mind thanks to his words. The wild and fresh river, the meadows covered in thousands of violet flowers, the snowy mountains in the background.

Your cristal-clear laugh made him smile back at you.

"So... What does a woman like you is actually doing here, then?" He asked you, his eyes roaming all along your body while he did. 

You were glad you had put on the prettiest dress you had, its dark burgundy color matching perfectly the tone of your skin, and its generous cleavage showing a delicious amount of your chest, underlined by a black translucent shawl covering your shoulders and twirling around your arms. You were offering a tempting sight for every man. You knew he had looked at it, his eyes lingering there had almost burned your skin, sent a warm feeling between your tights, and made your hand hold your cigarette tighter.

"You really thought it would be that easy, Mister?" You answered with another cheeky grin, looking at him with a sensual gaze, your words let out in a languorous whisper, knowing damn well he was trying to gain information, probably to probe if he could get something out of it for himself. "You really thought I would just confess everything to you about myself and what I'm doing here, just because you've got a firm tone and pretty face?"

He let out a dry single chuckle, his cigarette hanging in the air, smirking some more. This damn smirk, it was making you have more and more inappropriate thoughts about this man. The wildness, the dangerousness he was emitting should have made every girl flee, but you, all the contrary, were attracted by it like a moth to a flame.

Or maybe he was the Moth. Maybe he was the beautiful, singular, and ephemeral Moth in the world of chrysalides you were searching for all along.

"Oh trust me, I could make you spit out everythin' I want, Miss." He replied to your taunting words with the serious threatening tone he had used before. "Could make this pretty mouth behave..." He added, looking right into your soul, bending slightly towards you.

You felt like the tension was about to make your whole body burst. There was something between you two, you were sure he could feel it too. A sinuous, dark creature swimming and circling incessantly under the surface of a frozen lake; waiting, craving to be unleashed, to break the thin layer of ice that was keeping it caged.

He was inviting you to measure yourself to him. Bent towards you, wanting you to close the other half of the space between you both. A challenge, or a mark of respect, the case you didn’t want to venture into this territory.

But truth was, you wanted to. You wanted to break the ice yourself, you wanted to just kiss him, right here, right now.

Of course, it was a bad idea. And you were a professional, on a mission.

Instead, you put your hand on his bicep and brought your head inches away from his, not closing the space between your mouths. You’re accepting this silent fight, excited to show him what you’re capable of. You’re enveloped by his strong scent; your lips so close to his. You can see by his widening smirk how delighted he is you didn’t change your mind nor lost your guts. Responding to your bold move, he slowly snaked an arm around your waist. His hand landed on your lower back, just on the verge of being offensive.

Both of you stayed like this for a moment, your breath mixing, merging in a dangerous and exciting cocktail, but neither of you actually crossing the limit.

He could sense just how close he was to though, his muscles were tensed under your fingers, his forehead almost resting on yours with a light frown on it. You could see in his impassive handsome face a whole new emotion. 

Pure, raw lust.

"You're such a temptatious, thorny rose..." He mumbled in a hot whisper against your lips, the warmth between your legs now burning like a wildfire. Your pussy was aching for him, and you couldn't hold it anymore.

You felt his body twitching as he was going to finally do it, finally break the ice of the frozen lake, finally let his impulses and needs break free, his unholy, deep, atrociously torturous desires-

"Ah, Arthur !" A relieved voice interrupted both of you and he immediately let go of you, his head snapping to look at the man who had talked, eyes widening.

A tall gentleman with a perfectly cut mustache as black as his long curly hair and hat was looking at your companion with a contained,  amused smile.

"Will you excuse us, Miss?" He said unctuously to you, his voice polite and charming.

It was more of a statement than a question. He quickly took one of your hands and put a polite kiss on it before bending slightly towards you, as a gentleman would, and looked at your opponent with an insistent gaze.

Arthur was fulminating. He wasn't actually showing it, his face had come back to its usual cold, emotionless expression. But you could feel from where you were the unbearable tension and frustration that was dripping from his body language, almost as a halo of warmth you could physically touch with your hands. He took a last look at you, eyes expressing a mix of regret and bitterness.

"Goodnight, Miss." He coldly greeted you, walking next to you to follow his friend and go down the stairs, his shoulder brushing against yours while doing it.

"Goodnight, Arthur..." You answered him emphasizing his name once again, making it really clear that you remembered it was not the one he had given you and that you were pretty proud you had seen right. A playful, teasing grin on your face, you look one last time at him before he vanished in the ocean of guests.

Your Butterfly had disappeared just as quickly as he had materialized; leaving you alone with the empty cocoons once more. It was more than time for you to do your job and get out of here. Your cigarette finished, now feeling cold between your fingers, you tossed it away and headed into the mansion, feeling just as frustrated as so-called Arthur.

Arthur was pissed. He had never felt so frustrated in ages, and it was making his thoughts even less easy to discipline. His cigarette was on the verge of being smoked all at once from how intense he was getting and how heavy his breath had turned, the end of it constantly burning in a red shining little point as he was walking. 

This whole year he had felt like he didn't have any control over anything anymore and he hated it.

He was already feeling embittered in his everyday life, Dutch listening less and less to his opinion, Micah sneaking around him more and more, Mary coming back to him just to ask him to help her goddamn father who had always treated him like shit. 

On top of that, Dutch had made him look like an idiot using his actual name in front of you, making him wonder what was even the whole point of having a cover if he wasn't capable of sticking to it; which he had bitterly pointed out to him, but his superior had shrugged it off, seemingly happy to be here amongst the important people, looking as careless as ever.

Yes, Arthur was feeling frustrated, frustrated and tired of this. Tonight, instead of giving of himself, he wanted to take, for once. He needed to, even. He was about to before being interrupted, and this thought was gnawing at him from the inside. 

He was barely paying attention to what Dutch was saying to him and the others once Hosea and Bill had joined them. All he could see was your insanely beautiful face, your inviting lips, the perfect outline of your breasts from your cleavage, like engraved into his pupils.

The way you were talking, charming and teasing, the way you were smoking, all of this dreadfully turning him on during all your conversation. He had made an enormous amount of effort in order not to just kiss you.

He had joked about you being a witch, but it was the only explanation: you had bewitched him, threw your darkest, most sinful curse on him. Never in his life he had felt so attracted to someone after having talked with them for only such a short amount of time. What an insane fool he was.

On top of it, he was raging about the fact he probably wouldn't have the occasion to see you ever again. He had understood you clearly weren't just another rich man's wife, and he was certain you had given him a false name. His cock was throbbing terribly hurtfully in his pants, making his jaw clench, his brows frowning even more than usual. It was begging to be buried in you, between your legs, in your mouth, or your hands, even your breasts or your ass, anything but the cold feeling of nothingness he was feeling right now around it.

The sudden explosive sound and colorful lighting of fireworks had pulled him out of his blasphemous thoughts. 

He understood Dutch was ordering him something about following one of the Mayor's domestic, and gladly obliged, relieved to have another thing to focus on. Something about Cornwall sending an important letter to Lemieux, which he had to steal. Nothing difficult, he had done those sorts of things countless times. 

Nothing new. 

Nothing puzzling, like you had been.

As he followed the man, eyes locked on his white suit from afar, he quickly took a glance at the patio to see if you were still there. You weren't. His dick ached as he let out a deep exhale. Damn it.

Arthur rapidly found himself inside the Mayor's house. His servant had entered what looked like an office. He waited a few seconds after the room had felt silent, behind the corner of the walls, just to be sure, and entered it.

The room was indeed an office, a little desk with an armchair on his left, bookcases covering every wall, simply illuminated by a flickering orange lamp. Everything looked normal, except for the dark figure of a person in the middle of the place.

You.

He recognized your sensual dress immediately and witnessed you shoving some papers in what looked like a leathered little pocket held around your right thigh by leathered straps, just like a holster would be. His mind raced, a million reflections flying under his eyes. 

You were some sort of professional thief. And he didn’t have to be a genius to understand you had just taken the precise thing he was there for.

"That's why you were here, lil' rose?!" He asked you almost in disbelief, closing the door behind him.

You looked at him with a bold grin, looking almost amused by the situation. He, on the other hand, felt nothing but amusement. Anger, to have been fooled so easily, and that you had got ahead of him, losing the quiet game that had been played out between you. Envy, as you were now possessing two things he wanted to take away from you. Arousal, as his eyes were glued to the thigh that was now visible to his greedy eyes as you had pulled up your dress to put the sheets in your hidden pocket. Need, as his member felt hard again just by the sight of you doing it.

"Yeah, and you can only dream for me to give them to you if those papers were your target too, Arthur."

Damn, that teasing, cheeky mouth of yours. His fantasies came back in full force, and his gaze darkened. As temptatious as you were, he needed those documents. And he would do anything he had to to have them back.

"Give ‘em to me." He lowly ordered you, voice so severe you could have melted right into the carpeted floor of this damn office. But you didn't.

"Hell no."

"Give ‘em t’me, woman. I won't ask nicely a third time."

"If you want them, you'll have to catch me, pretty boy."

Lord, why was everyone so prompt to call him this way lately? He almost grunted at the way you had said it, and he would have lied if this time he didn't like it when it fell from your lips. He wanted to reply with something witty and even more threatening, but in a flash, you had opened the window, and easily jumped outside.

This Goddamn woman. What was she exactly? Some sort of feline? Yeah, probably a panther, agile, impressive, dangerous like one.

He instantly ran after you, jumping through the window too, landing in a loud thud. He quickly spotted your dress running away, escaping by the entry’s portal, then in the nearest street, disappearing behind St Denis's myriad of flashing lights. 

How could he had missed it? His mind was filled with images of it.

He had the common decency of grabbing back his gun from the butler at the party's entry, making him almost fall on the ground as he hadn't slowed but had grabbed them while running, the poor man wondering what the Hell made both of these people in such a hurry.

He was now flying at full speed around the luxurious streets, following the faint glimpse of your dress's color at the corner of every turn. He felt like he could follow your scent like a hunting dog, your sweet and peachy perfume confirming him you had passed there before.

He had enough, feeling his restrain and manners crackling more and more into little pieces. You were making him feel like a damn animal, reducing his whole being to primal needs and functions. He should have been disgusted with himself for that. But all he could do right now was thinking about the damn documents hidden against your damn alluring thigh.

"Stop now, you Goddamn... Evil woman!" He tried to call you out, but you just wouldn't stop. He started firing at you, getting angrier and more fed up by the second, a bullet exploding a piece of the bricked wall right next to your head, some splinters cutting slightly the top of your ear.

You bent over to dodge his bullets one more time and you heard him cursing again loudly behind you. On top of being big, strong and clever, he was fast. In a quick movement of your feet, shaking them, you removed your shoes, unable to run at your fastest speed with heels. You continued your frenzied course, way more at ease.

Arthur rushed in where you were just mere seconds after you, noticing the shoes abandoned on the floor. What the Hell was even this woman, he asked himself for the second time this evening. Some sort of temptatious, dark retelling of Cinderella?

He almost made himself laugh at the thought, understanding your move because his own polished shoes were frankly a pain to run with, making him slip with every shift as if he was walking on soap and regret his good old boots, before acknowledging he had lost your trace.

Shit!

He looked all around him, his eyes scanning every inch, his breath rapid and sharp, his forehead and neck a pool of sweat. No signs of you, unless... 

Something fell right on his face, but gently, as a caress from a fresh breeze. Your perfume filled up his nostrils and lungs and it made his heart race. He took it in his hands, the sensations pleasant under his fingerprints. 

It was your black shawl.

Tilting his head up, he found you.

You were making your way up to the roof of the town by climbing on a thin ladder.

Arthur exhaled deeply through his nose like a buffalo. He was used to this kind of high-speed chase, but this was a whole new thing, which made him regret his lasso too, his hand searching for it on his belt out of habit but closing on nothing. 

Damned party, damned suit, damned you. 

He climbed after you, refusing to give up, enraged like a wild beast. 

He would catch you, dead or alive.

In a way, this was making him even more aroused than any work-girl show he had ever seen.

"I'm going to kill ya, that's a promise!"

You could hear just how furious his voice was now, and you were starting to pray you would flee successfully from him, cause you knew he would eat you alive if he could get his hands on you.

Arriving on top of the building, you caught your breath for a microsecond, before searching for a way out, gaze frantic, heart beating out of your chest. You were considering climbing to another roof, but the deep, breathless sounds of your pursuer prevented you from doing more thinking.

Arthur had reached the top of the roof too, and was already aiming his gun at you. This time he didn't even bother to say anything, shooting at you again while getting up. He was so seething you wouldn’t have been surprised to see saliva bubbling from his mouth.

By divine intervention, you dodged again, and without any thinking, you ran all the way to the edge of the roof, and jumped.

You stayed in the air for a few seconds.

You felt like time had stopped, the air brushing against your skin, your heart hanging somewhere between the sky and the total void.

You landed on a fancy and illuminated balcony a few meters away. You hurt your feet and legs with the shock, but smiled proudly to yourself. You were out of reach, he was way bigger and way heavier than you, there was no way he coul-

A gigantic mass fell on you, as Arthur had proved you wrong and jumped from the roof you had just left and was crashing directly into you. 

Both of you fell on the ground and struggled for a few seconds; you tried to resist him but it was a fight already lost, this literal force of nature easily handling you like he wanted. 

You ended up lying on your back, Arthur sitting on you, towering over you with all his might, quickly grabbing your wrists to prevent you from fighting, his legs parted around your hips stopping you from escaping. You were trapped.

"You're a pain in the ass girl, you know that?!" He shouted at you, breathless, raging mad. You were both panting, sweating heavily. His face was entirely red, and your cheeks even more crimson.

You both looked at each other, eyes locked, and you stayed silent. The dark creature prowling under the thin floe had returned and it was getting bigger, stronger, out of control with each passing second. There was something extremely erotic in the way he was almost lying on top of you, both of you out of breath, sweaty, and burning red, both your hearts beating at full speed in the same erratic rhythm.

Just like before at the reception, you knew he could feel it too. You knew it from the dark gaze he was looking at you with, the shady swirls of the murky leviathan reflecting in the depths of his pupils, from the deepest well of his urges, forbidden territory to which no man ever had access.

A simple touch of his hand, that's all it took.

He put both of your hands into a single one of his, using his other one to pull up your dress, fingers roaming on your thigh.

You couldn't hold it anymore, you bent toward him and slammed your lips against his in the most powerful and decadent kiss you had ever shared with someone, almost biting him.

The moment you did, Arthur's mind exploded, and every poor drop of restrain he had evaporated as quickly as if it was on the Sun's surface. The beast had won, finally shattering the weak layer of ice into a million pieces; your two souls blending in what could have felt like a fevered dream.

The grunt he let out onto your kiss was animalistic, and the tension in his body just as powerful as a waterfall with a brutal, unstoppable current. The hand that was holding your wrist let go of it and slipped under your head, fingers in your hair, as his tongue licked against your lips, searching for a way in. You let him in, eagerly, wondering if he would have forced the way if you didn’t. 

He tasted strong, as if to match his whole being, a powerful flavor of tobacco, merged with a faint trace of sweetness and bitterness from the champagne he had drank. Like if you were smoking the finest and strongest of cigars. It made you love it even more.

Abandoning all your restraints too, your hands wrapped around his neck and your hips started pushing up against his, even if you couldn't move much, his two muscular thighs keeping you grounded to the balcony's paved floor. It felt so cold against your back, contrasting with the heat Arthur was burning with, consuming, devastating, raging.

He growled again when he felt your movement under him. He needed more of you, right now. This whole seduction game, the adrenaline rose by the chase, your bold charming attitude, your insanely insolent beauty, it was making him insane. He roughly ripped off his bowtie with one hand, needing some air; it felt like you two were under the desert’s scorching sun, stifling, dazing. 

The right hand he had on your thigh traveled even higher under your dress, devouring every inch of flesh it could, and his appetite was only getting worse the more he discovered you. He smoothly moved his legs from around yours to put himself between them, and you instantly, almost from instinct, hooked them around his hips.

The sudden contact of your blazing core against his equally hot bulge made you sigh in pleasure, and he loved it. Breaking your kiss for the first time since you had initiated it, he pulled back to look at you, his deep gaze devouring you, undressing you just by its stare. 

“What’s your real name?” He asked you, voice hoarser than ever, demanding it from you.

You told him your name, limbs feeling like mush under his intense eyes. He repeated it quietly, like a prayer he would recite on his own. You felt less and less like the panther you thought you were, and more and more like he was the predator alone. In a shaking tone, you questioned back to know his full, real name, needing to know what words you’d have to whisper in gratitude when he would finally take what he wanted from you. To whisper, or shout to the Heavens.

“Arthur Morgan.” He let out, his lips quickly returning to their current addiction, your skin. The way they were attacking your neck didn’t have an ounce of control now, his mouth opening widely to almost take a whole bite of your flesh there, letting kisses everywhere it could.

“Tell me if you don’t want this.” He added against your skin, between two greedy open-mouth kisses.

A way to escape. The predator stilling, letting a way out. But you didn't wanted it. Not at all. Not now that he had surrendered to you, trusting you with the intimacy of his real name, that would be stuck in your mind for God knows how long.

“I want it.” You asserted, voice almost cracking with the weight of your need.

He moaned a relieved sound in answer, his nose exhaling some air that tickled your neck.

You weren’t even sure he could stop himself if you had said no. He was consuming you, and he felt completely drunk, as if you were coated with a powerful whiskey. Strong alcohol that his tongue was now licking all the way from your shoulder, up to your ear.

You moaned, the feeling of his hungriness so good and perfect on you.

"Gonna take care of ya now." He growled in a rumbling whisper, making your legs feel weak. Another one of his promises, but this one was going to give you salvation, and you were thanking him for keeping it. 

The bold hand he had under your dress took another step towards insanity by landing on your undergarments, his thick fingers searching for a way in. You were trembling with anticipation. You couldn't even register the fact that you were really doing this, right now, with a complete stranger you had met only a few hours ago, and who wanted to kill you minutes before, on the balcony of what looked like a habited place.

The obscenity, the depravation, the boldness of it was only matched by his relentless thirst for you.

His fingers had finally pulled your underwear to the side, and you sighed seeing him on top of you, eyes drawn to your bare pussy, carnal features empathized by the obscurity of the night. The tip of his fingers traveled amongst your folds, wolves into the forest, a territory they were now claiming as theirs.

You almost begged for him, for the wolves to eat you up all and let nothing behind them, please Arthur, and he offered you this damnation, the desperate call of his name igniting another fire in his already infernal mind. A single, calloused finger pushed into your folds, making you spread your legs even more to grant it better access. It was stretching you pleasantly, his skin rough and firm inside. You started letting out sweet, quiet moans, showing him just how much you were enjoying this.

Your two hands now gripping his back, holding on for something, anything, his dark jacket suddenly feeling way too smooth to grab onto; you were wondering how touching his naked back could feel.

Arthur was doing everything in his power not to burst once more, grunting in response to your loving sound. Slowly, he pushed another one, thriving in how wet and hot your cunt felt around his fingers, craving for the moment he would finally be able to feel this downright perfection around his cock. He felt like he was ruining you, throwing you to these wolves, and you were thanking him for it.

For now, he focused on you, blue eyes glued on your face when he started curling his digits inside of you, searching for this so special, so delightful spot within your walls. He was observant, noticing every sound you were making, every muscle tensing, to know if it was the place you liked that he was brushing right now. Wanting it to be the place you liked most.

By adding his thumb on your clit and pushing a little deeper his index and middle finger in your desperate pussy, he realized he finally had found the Graill as your back arched against the ground, your own hands gripping harder on him, eyes shutting in pure pleasure.

"Oh, God! Yes, right there..." You rewarded him, voice high-pitched and filled with delight, a tingling sensation spreading on your legs and shoulders.

He exhaled deeply, your words making his own member gorging, pressing against the fabric of his suit that felt too small to contain him. He started pushing in and out, pulling a whine out of your throat with every movement, as the thick tip of his fingers rubbed against your sweet spot every time, wolves once again in a world of sweetness and honey, lapping your delight, feasting on your pleasure.

“Told ya I would make this pretty mouth behave…” He said cockily after one of your moans. He was enjoying this all too much, finally feeling in control again, being the one and only responsible for your ecstasy. 

The distance between his mouth and you seemed to be unacceptable for him as he had succumbed once more to his needs, his lips finding your skin again, tongue tasting, teasing your chest this time, everywhere he could on the cleavage he had desired since the first time he had laid eyes on you tonight. Bent over to you, looking like a curved beast feasting on its prey.

You were feeling your pleasure building, Arthur’s face hungrily searching for one of your nipples under the neckline of your dress, and sucking it once he had finally found it. His teeth and nose had pulled your dress, freeing your entire left breast, bare, defenseless in front of him. 

Maybe he was the wolf himself. He sure looked like it, his face a maw fed by your soft flesh.

Every nerve of your pussy screamed for deliverance, this familiar sensation taking form in your lower stomach. Your moans were becoming even more high-pitched, breathless, almost obscene, much to the outlaw's delight.

You had thought of him before being a terribly efficient and multi-functional weapon. You couldn’t have known just how right you had been, your hardening nipple still chewed by his mouth while his right hand was sending you to your edge, thumb skillfully circling on your clit faster and faster, the two other fingers tearing apart your sweet spot, in and out, in and out, again and again, until…

“A-Arthur, don’t stop, please!” Your voice slit the night open, tone pleading as if you were begging for your life.

“I won’t girl, it’s all okay… Give it t’me…” He encouraged you, even his breath feeling rough against the skin of your chest before he sucked hard on the skin of one of your breasts, accompanying you to your salvation.

It was enough to send you over your limit, your pussy clenching, throbbing, entirely consumed. You moaned so loudly it could have turned into a scream, hips jerking against his palm, his other hand quickly grabbing your hip to steady you and carry you through it as his fingers were dragging every last drop of your pleasure out of you. 

“Yeahhh, that’s it gorgeous, just like that…”

He was frowning, the sinful sensations of your wet cunt coating his fingers in a warm slick and tensing around them making his eyebrow and jaw just as tensed, his face just a hint of how fucking riled up he was because of it.

Your head was still spinning and your breath uneven when he finally pulled his digits out of your walls, the fresh air replacing them. Lost in your haze, you weren't capable of doing anything else but looking at him through lidded, heavy eyes.

He was absolutely beautiful, even more than at the start of the night. His true nature out at last, his white fancy shirt disheveled now that he had removed his bowtie and soaked from efforts. Cheeks and throat as red as a sanguine sunset. Pearls of sweat sparkling on his burning skin with the Ocean of street lights of St Denis, reminding you of a night sky, making his sandy hair stick to his forehead in the hottest way possible. 

You didn't knew how could all this had escalated so quickly, but at that moment, you felt like this man before you was your whole universe, his deep ultramarine eyes completing the stellar work of art he was, shining, shimmering, more than any star in the sky, as if the Gods had capture the entire Milky Way and imprisoned it in his being.

Arthur had ultimately pulled his cock out of his black suit pants, only piece of flesh out of his clothes, and your thoughts were immediately contradicted; there was no way any virtuous God could have made a man so depraved. He was the work of the Other Side, Lust and Temptation personified. King of the wolves, he could have had all the Hounds of Hell kneeling before him.

He pumped himself a few times, unable to resist the call his member had been screaming for hours, reinforced by the way his fingers had tasted your wet cavern. Some precum had already leaked from his big pinkish head when he was fingering you and was now glistening in the night, making you think about the stars again. Your breath got caught at this sight and you couldn't stop yourself from letting out a praise.

"Perfect..." You simply stated in a whisper, eyes glued to his throbbing, veiny member, relieved he had already pulled an orgasm out of you because there was no way he could have fit in you otherwise. Your eyes followed the dark path of his hair, from the glimpse you had on his chest between the open collar of his shirt, all the way down to his pelvis and at the base of his shaft. 

You could only imagine what it looked like without any clothes on, and you were dying to know.

"Trust me, you're the perfect one, darlin'." He asserted, firm tone leaving little to contradiction. 

He positioned himself in front of your entrance.

You weren't even completely back from the world your first relief had brought you to, and he was already at your door again. But this time, Arthur couldn’t stop himself.

He had given once again, just like always. Now he wanted to take. He needed to take. The starving, depraved wolf. Slowly pushing, teasing himself, making his cock’s head sink into your dripping territory, creating wet and soggy sounds, a hardened spear into honey. 

He couldn't hold back a baritone moan, the feeling was even better than what he remembered. He hadn't taken the time or allowed himself to lay with a woman in ages, and God, what a return to this primal bliss.

He slowly moved some more, his hands spreading your legs a bit wider from around his waist to allow him to penetrate you more easily. Once you had entirely enveloped him, his tip deep inside, he let out another deep throaty grunt, the feeling making it hard for him to keep his thoughts clear. 

"Ahh... Shit, darlin’... So tight…"

Considering how his length was stretching you, you bet he felt your pussy tight. The first word that came into your mind was “complete”. So complete with his huge cock inside of you; you felt like you could have died happily like this. One of your hands slipped from the top of his back to the lower part of it, just above his ass, pressing there, showing him just how much you wanted him to move, to let go. 

Arthur didn't need much more as he pulled back slowly only to snap his hips back against yours, his cock pushing again all the way through your cunt in one hard single time, giving you another wave of pleasure as you both moaned together, unable to resist the intense sensation he was creating for both of you.

Hearing you whine, finally feeling your perfectly tight and warm pussy around him, it was making him lose all sense of restraint, and as your other hand ran through his hair, your angelic voice whispering his name as if he was your Lord and savior, he lost it. 

He started to pull in and out of you faster, harder, your bodies colliding in a delicious way, obscene noises echoing through the silence of the darkness. His increase in pace made your body scream in pleasure and you buried your face into the crook of his neck under the collar of his shirt, biting his skin there.

It made him grunt loudly, and one of his hands roamed from your hips to your rear, grabbing a fistful of your ass in an instinctive response. His other hand was on the ground next to you, keeping him from crushing you against it. It made your head blank with pleasure.

"Shit, Arthur! M-more!" You begged, feeling like you could die if he stopped, your voice turning into high squeals.

"Anhh- God... More? Don’t worry girl, I'll g-give you more...-Mmh!" 

His voice was heavy with pleasure, words cut off by moans and grunts you were delighted to hear, the most unholy and arousing music you had ever had the honor to listen to.

True to his words, he obliged, hips thrusting endlessly, member empaling you with each move. You could feel the flesh of his pelvis against yours with how deep he dived into you, and around it the stiffness of his suit, rubbing again the breast he had pulled out of your dress before, nipple sensitive after his previous treatment. 

If what was between you was once a frozen lake, it had now turned into an Ocean of lava, magma exploding, engulfing both of you in the most burning and devastating passion you'd ever experienced, a volcanic explosion of desires.

The hand he had on your asscheek reluctantly let go of it, but you ended up thanking him for it, cause he was now using it to put your left leg above his shoulder, grabbing under your knee, allowing him to fuck you in an even better angle than before. He was ruining you once again, but this time felt like the pack of starving enraged wolves had taken him with you to consume him entirely.

You leaned against the floor, back of your head feeling the paved coldness, only hint that everything was actually real. Arthur's eyes locked with yours as he kept on fucking you hard and fast, this intimate contact making his member twitch.

You felt so goddamn good around him, and looked so goddamn gorgeous like this, your cheeky grin long gone, replaced by a delightful frown of pleasure, mouth open in a quiet scream. Arthur felt his peak coming dangerously close, but his pace hadn't slowed, his fat cock thrusting in and out of you. In and out, like a furious, sacred metronome. In an out, like a blessed psalm you'd both be reciting together.

“Come on girl, I know you have another, -Damn it!-, another one in ya. Give it to me, come on, jus’ for me…”

Words and voice drowned in a flood of pleasure and curses, of deep grunts and growls, his possessiveness sending you over the edge once again, your inside closing its trap around him, squeezing just how he needed to.

His eyes shut close, eyebrows furrowing in utter pleasure as he sank so hard and deeply you could have felt him splitting your guts in half, his dick throbbing and harder than ever. It reached a spot so deep and good inside of you, burning it, your pleasure bursting as you felt your orgasm coming for the second time.

"A-Arthur!" You cried out as you came around him, creaming him, walls clenching in a delicious sensation that made him reach the stars.

"God, damn it!" He shouted, voice deeper and rougher on the curse word before quickly removing himself from you in a flash of lucidity, finishing messily, cum spilling from his red sensitive member in white spurts that ended up right on your belly as a feral, powerful growl escaped his chest and his head tilted backward, letting you see his throat covered in sweat and veins.

For a moment, both of you had turned into beasts, shattered all the limits, broke all the shackles, diminishing you into your more primitive instincts. The Wolves of Lust had devoured your being into the very last delicious bone.

And that’s how you felt. Boneless.

Now, stillness. A cold breeze enveloped the pair of you, the only sounds now being the distant agitation of the city and your pantless breaths. He slowly brought his chin back down and opened his eyes, mesmerized by the sight of you returning from the realm of pure pleasure he had provided for you for the second time.

He felt powerful. He felt good. Better than he had for months, finally satisfied. Like a God, a King. King of all the Wolves, Cerberus, the only guardian of your unholy realm.

He wanted to do this again with you, as soon as possible.

He carefully put his softening dick back in its clothed cage, fingers fumbling with the buttons of his pants as he felt completely spent, his hands shaking slightly. He wanted to help you get cleaned up, but you had already brushed what you could of his release off your dress. 

It would probably leave stains on your clothing nevertheless. 

A twisted, dark part of him, the part that came from the same pit as the dark creature and the Wolves, felt almost aroused and proud at the thought you would keep an imprint of him on it. This part was relishing noticing the big ruby mark it had left on your breast as you were putting it back under your neckline; he grinned to himself knowing it would make your memories of him more difficult to forget. 

He didn't want you to forget.

He slowly got up, offering you his hand to help you stand. You quickly put back your dress in its usual state, and wiped the sweat off your forehead. A silence settled between you two, thousands of questions floating in the air, but none of you ready to ask them out loud yet.

Finally, as you started shivering, only realizing now how cold this night was without Arthur's burning hot body on top of you, he spoke, voice even hoarser from having pushed on it too much, accent making every world sound heavy when they fell from his mouth.

"When can I see you again?" More than a demand, a promise. An order even. Cerberus needs his territory.

You already knew he kept them; his promises. Except for the one he had made to kill you. But in a way, he did, because you felt like you wouldn’t be able to ever feel so alive again without him. 

Like a condemnation.

"You won't." 

Certainty in your voice. But he didn't mind it. He had already broken you before.

"Oh, but I think I will, darlin'." Was all he said before stepping over the fence of the balcony, ready to jump off it. Before doing it, he pulled something out of his jacket and waved it at you.

The fucking papers.

A lightning of understanding and panic struck you; what you had thought was a lustful touch on your thigh, the one that had set everything on fire between the both of you, that had unleashed the Wolves, was in reality his sneaky hand retrieving the document from your hidden pocket.

Shit!

He gave you his cocky grin, blue gaze sparkling with mischief, greeting you with a two finger’s salute then jumped, disappearing in the night, away from you once again. You could have gone after him, as much as your weak and spent body would have allowed you to, but somehow, after all that he had done to you tonight, you felt like he had well deserved those damned letters.

tagging: @a-court-of-valkyries credits: Arthur's pic is not mine, belongs to fv8tt on Pinterest. Dividers and little moths doodle by me.

I reall hope you liked this one! I'm thinking about writing another part where the reader could confront Arthur again... Tell me if you'd like that! -Pine 🌱

[deterioratingpisces]

Daniel Molloy, marriage councillor from hell.

He’s got a 98% divorce rate. The other 2%? They’re probably staying together out of sheer spite—or fear of returning to his office.

Instead of fixing his clients’ problems, he digs up some more. Forget “working on communication.” He’s a master at uncovering your worst secrets and weaponizing them like a teenager in a text fight.

He gets a little spark in his eyes whenever he finds something new to grill his clients about. It’s the closest he gets to joy: that glint that says, “Oh, you thought that wasn’t going to come up?”

Don’t worry about him playing favourites; he’s being a little shit to everyone equally. Even the mildest disagreements become battlefields under his gaze. You’ll go in debating how to load the dishwasher and come out wondering if love is even real.

Also, don’t be gleeful when your partner is on the receiving end of his judgement. Your turn is just around the corner. The moment he catches a whiff of smugness, he redirects like a hawk zeroing in on fresh prey.

Passive-aggressiveness just gasses him up more. Every eye roll, every groan, every passive-aggressive “are we done here?”—it’s all fuel for the fire. You think you’re breaking him down, but really, you’re just feeding the beast.

The only way of coming out of his therapy still married is through fraternizing against him. But good luck. Before you can say “teamwork,” he’s found the one thing you can’t agree on and driven a wedge so deep, you’ll forget you were ever on the same side.

Probably one of the biggest mistakes you could make is trying to weaponize his own two failed marriages against him. Oh, sweet summer child. You think that’s a trump card? He’ll shrug it off like lint on his blazer and hit you with, “That’s adorable, but let’s talk about why you brought this up.” Cue emotional bloodbath.

Thinking you can charm him by mentioning you’ve read his work and thought it was brilliant? Big mistake. He doesn’t take compliments; he takes ammunition. “Oh, you read my book? Fascinating. Let’s talk about why you felt the need to bring that up. Seeking validation, perhaps?” Now you’re defending yourself for being polite.

He’s written exactly one book, and it’s the kind of thing only masochists or grad students read. Titled “Irreconcilable: Why Most Marriages Were Doomed Before They Began,” it’s a scathing 600-page manifesto on why love is an illusion and compromise is a scam.

He’ll be going off on you for one hour, and the second the time is up he’s his perfectly composed self. Nothing like hearing, “Same time next week? We’re really cracking this open!” after you’ve spent an hour sobbing and accusing your spouse of crimes you didn’t even know you cared about.

He’s immensely motionless and visibly dissatisfied every time a couple does make it out of his counseling still together. No congratulations. No “job well done.” Just a flat, “Wow. Guess miracles do happen.” The closest thing to an endorsement you’ll ever get.

If you somehow survive his sessions intact, you’ll leave with a list of issues you didn’t even know you had. Trust issues? Check. Miscommunication? Check. A sudden, inexplicable need to google “how to file a restraining order”? Double check.

His office décor is clinically neutral—beige walls, minimal art—because the real carnage happens in your emotional landscape. There’s no place for comfort here. Just two chairs, a box of tissues, and the sharp glare of his judgment.

He’s the kind of counselor who will literally pause a heated argument to correct your grammar. “Actually, it’s ‘my partner and I,’ not ‘me and my partner.’ But please, go on about how they never support you.”

He’s got a poker face so strong, even the most unhinged confession barely raises an eyebrow. You could admit to orchestrating a fake kidnapping to test your partner’s loyalty, and he’d just scribble something in his notebook with a bored, “Huh. Interesting.”

Somehow, he remembers everything. That tiny detail you offhandedly mentioned in week one? He’ll bring it back 15 sessions later, weaponized and sharper than your spouse’s passive-aggressive tone during your last fight.

His motto? “Honesty isn’t always the best policy—it’s just the most fun for me.” Because nothing says therapy like watching couples tear each other apart under the guise of “truth.”

Every session is like playing emotional Minesweeper. You think you’re navigating safely until—BOOM—he hits you with a “So when are you planning to tell them about the credit card debt?”

He’s probably got a closet full of tissue boxes because he goes through multiple ones a day. Not that he’s offering comfort, mind you. He’s just emotionally eviscerating people left and right, leaving them to weep into piles of Kleenex while he sits there scribbling in his notebook like “Another one bites the dust.”

On the rare occasion he does favour one client over their partner, he’ll join in with them to gaslight the other. If you thought your gaslighting was bad, wait until he tags in. “Honestly, that’s a perfectly normal thing to do. I don’t know why your partner’s making such a big deal about it.” Next thing you know, you’re doubting your grip on reality.

You know he’s in a good mood when he starts with, ‘So, let’s revisit that thing you were hoping I’d forget.’ His version of ‘good vibes’ is a merciless callback to the worst fight you’ve ever had. Bonus points if it involves a completely trivial topic like a burnt casserole.

He once accidentally helped save/improve a marriage, and he still brings it up as his greatest failure. “It wasn’t my fault. They blindsided me by… actually communicating. Ugh.”

He doesn’t just break you down emotionally; he’ll dismantle your hobbies too. “So you knit to ‘relax’? Interesting. Is that why your partner feels neglected every time you pick up the needles?”

Every now and then, he’ll throw in a “fun” hypothetical just to spice things up. “So, if your spouse did start an affair with their coworker, how do you think you’d react? No, seriously, let’s explore that.” And just like that, he’s set your relationship on fire.

If you’re brave enough to call him out for being biased, he’ll hit you with a “Why do you think you feel that way?” Congratulations, you just fell into his trap. Now you’re the one who needs to “explore your insecurities.”

He’s got a way of twisting even the smallest compliment into a passive-aggressive critique. “So you think they’re a good parent? Interesting that you don’t mention them being a good partner.”

No argument is off-limits to him, no matter how petty. You could be fighting over the remote, and he’ll somehow turn it into a deep dive on your inability to compromise. “Is it really about the TV? Or is it about the control you feel you’re losing in this relationship?”

He has the audacity to send you home with homework. Nothing says fun date night like sitting down to answer questions like, “What’s the worst thing your partner’s ever said to you, and why do you think they meant it?”

He signs off every session with, ‘It’s not my job to fix you. It’s my job to show you what’s broken.’ Thanks, Daniel. Really uplifting. Can’t wait for next week.

He keeps a tally on how many digs it takes for both of his clients to start sobbing. He’s like an emotional sniper, except instead of bullets, it’s a well-placed “So, how did your mother influence your relationship dynamic?”

He also keeps a separate count of how many clients had a full-on mental breakdown that week. At the end of the week, he probably leans back in his chair, reviewing the numbers with a satisfied, “Another record-breaking performance. Good job, me.”

He gets a twisted sense of joy from the whole thing. Every time someone cries, he casually slides the tissue box closer with a little smirk, like “That’s the spirit.”

He claims he doesn’t enjoy making people cry, but the smug look on his face says otherwise. You swear you caught him jotting “two-for-one cry deal” in the corner of his notebook after both you and your partner lost it in the same session.

If you call him out on the tally, he’ll act surprised. “Tally? Oh no, that’s just... uh... my grocery list. Don’t mind that.” Meanwhile, you can see “MENTY B TOTAL: 12” written in huge letters.

He has a "Hall of Fame" in his mind for the fastest emotional breakdowns. “Four minutes and thirty-seven seconds. Impressive, really. Most people hold out until the ten-minute mark.”

His biggest letdown of the week is a session where nobody cries. He’ll sigh heavily, jot something in his notebook, and mutter, “Well, we all have off days.”The week his tally hits zero? He might as well shut the whole office down. He’d sit at his desk, staring out the window, whispering, “Have I lost my touch? No... it’s them. They’re just repressing better.”

The reason his Google ratings are still up? It’s either fear—because who wants Daniel Molloy coming after them in a vengeful Yelp tirade—or gratitude, but of the gaslit variety. His clients walk away thinking, “Wow, our marriage was doomed from the start. Thank you, Mr. Molloy, for showing us the truth.”

There’s a rumor that he has a celebratory bell he rings in his private office for every milestone. After every couple that leaves his office divorced. Ding-ding-ding! “Another happy ending.”

Sometimes he drops subtle hints about the bell mid-session. “You know, not every couple makes it through therapy. But that’s okay. There’s… closure in accepting the truth.” And you know he’s thinking about that bell.

If he had his way, the bell would be a centerpiece of his practice. Displayed proudly behind his desk, polished to a shine, with an engraving: “In honor of irreconcilable differences.”

Please feel free to add anything I have missed. 💀

[sh1-n0bu]

𝔫𝔬𝔟𝔲’𝔰 𝔨𝔦𝔫𝔨𝔱𝔬𝔟𝔢𝔯 𝔬𝔣 2023!

day 1: bondage/shibari with blade from hsr!

warnings: shibari/bondage obv, subspace, affirmation of consent, cockstepping, forced self praise, nipple stimulation, masochist blade, slight feminization, praise

notes: oh shit, here we go

being in a relationship with blade comes with many surprises and way too many heart attacks. no, really, the amount of times you almost had a heart attack because of this man is insane.

coming back home injured and on the brink of death. sudden reopening of his wounds and stitches because he was so used to pain. or the fact that he literally fell unconscious on your lap because he forgot to eat anything for the last who knows what long?

or even now, when he holds out a red rope, asking you to tie him up like a helpless prey.

it took a lot of tries and failures. wrapping the pretty red rope around the bare skin of your masochistic lover is quite hard when you have zero experience on full body bondage. if it were just hands and legs, you were a master at it. but not when it comes to shibari.

“color?” your voice comes out soft and gentle, tightening the last part of the red rope behind his back. all you got in response was a quiet shuddered breath.

“bladie, color?” fastening the end of the rope behind his back — not too tight, not too loose — your hand comes up to rest atop his head before slowly stroking his hair. that snapped him out of his current thoughts real fast as his hazy ruby eyes shift up to look at you.

“g-green… green” blade nods, gulping down what saliva was being collected in his mouth.

looking down at your handiwork, the stellaron hunter almost lets out a loud moan at the sight. red rope, one that is the same color of his eyes, fastened around his body so prettily. his chest, breasts you like to call whenever you squeeze them, looked bigger than usual. a part of the red rope going down and around his pecs, digging into his skin just enough to remind him of the current action you two were about to do. and his cock, standing angry red and proud.

he was hard. embarrassingly so.

you haven’t done anything but tie him up to his request and oh gods, he was already so embarrassingly hard.

if you were to see his arousal and the slight pre already on his tip, what would you do? would you scold him? call him mean and degrading names? would you leave him untouched and desperate for hours? would you slap his cock and make him cry and sob in a twisted sense of pleasure and pain?

a hand comes to rest on his chest, momentarily snapping him out of his thoughts. oh, what would you do? what would you do to him? your poor, pathetic, helpless lover.

“my sweet bladie. look at you, staying there all tied up like a little prey” he briefly hears your voice call out, hands starting to fondle and squeeze his pecks. unconsciously, he pushed his chest further into your hand, wanting more of your sweet touches. it felt like his entire body was on fire and only your hand could soothe him. or even make it worse.

“do you like it, dear? does my pretty boy like it when i fondle his tits like that?” he lets out an embarrassingly loud noise at your words. a pathetic sound that’s akin to a mewl that a cat in heat makes. without even noticing, his hips stutter in his position on the rug covered floor as well.

“such a cute and round breasts you have, my love. so full. they fit in my hand so prettily. do you think if i suck on your pretty nipples for long enough, you would start lactating?”

oh. oh no. just that mental image or the thought of having your mouth wrapped around his areola had him whining out loudly. rutting his hips on the material of the soft rug desperately as he tries to make your words a reality. oh, would you help him out if that actually does end up becoming real? would you suck and stimulate his nerves so often and too much to the point that he would actually start lactating just like a woman would? would you suck on his leaking milk?

such vile thoughts that made him squirm on his place on the floor with a long, drawn-out whine. who would have ever thought your stoic looking lover would be such a weak little thing.

not that you minded it. you loved it actually. all the more reasons to circle a thumb around his hardened bud, making him twitch and buck his hips, searching for the tiniest bits of friction to his poor leaking cock.

"ah right. how mean of me. i forgot about your little problem" you let out a soft coo, deciding to try out a new thing as well. no point in backing out now. your sweet boy was already a mess on the floor with just a few touches and caresses. might as well help him out and fulfill his fantasies.

"color?" you ask again, one of your feet lightly resting on his stomach, pressing lightly, just enough pressure to cause blade to gain his words again from wherever his pretty mushy brain is swimming in once he gets to this state.

understanding the implications of your words and what you were asking affirmation for, blade couldn't help but nod his head a little too eagerly. the dirty and vile side of him wanting what exactly it was you were offering. the dark and more twisted part of him just wanted you to do that already. to take what you wanted without asking, make him scream, jolt, sob from the suddenness of it all.

but of course, you would never do that. you were so caring of him. makes him wonder how he even was lucky enough to have you as his own lover.

"my love, i need to hear you use your words" your voice sounded a bit harsher than he remembered. did he made you mad? disappointed? sad? he didn't meant to! poor little blade was just too damn lost in his own little space. all thanks to the rope and the suffocating amount of trust he blindly puts in you.

"green... please? aeons, please just touch me" his response was sluggish. slow. slurred. drunken and lost in the hazy grips of pleasure and anticipation. that was all you needed.

with a comforting headpat, the feet that you had placed on his stomach slowly trailing down before coming to rest over his hard on. just a simple buck of his hips and he can get to feel you step down on his cock. the thought had blade already panting and drooling. but you haven’t even touched him yet. what a perverted boy, he was.

slowly but gently, you pressed down on his arousal before putting just enough pressure to cause him to let out gasps and loud whines. it felt good. you felt good. you were making him feel so good and blade? oh, he could never be happier nor could he ever thank you enough for it.

“t-thank you…! gunhhg thankyou thankyo—oounpp!!! gccck♡︎!” the man blabbers on drunkenly, his hips twitching as he tries to rut up into your feet further to make you just stomp on his pathetic cock. he would love that so much. the disgusting, masochist part of him would love that so fucking much.

“you’re my pretty boy, right? my sweet toy. my cute prey. my darling blade, right? you’re still my good bladie, right?” he could briefly hear you hum so sweetly. voice like a honey on his fried brain. in response, all blade could do was nod and nod eagerly like a pup. hands straining against the pretty red ropes that you tied around him.

“words, blade” the hand that was still playing and squeezing at him breast — god he completely forgot about your hand there — squeezes at his hardened nipple before pulling on it slightly. that was a warning for him to use his words. to repeat back what you said to him like a broken record. or else, you would probably deny touching him all-together and your sweet boy would hate that.

“guuh— i am! i am i am! ‘m your good boy. y-your sweet boy! ‘m still your cute bladie nyaah♥︎!” that last part slipped out unconsciously. he could barely even form any words now. just pathetically humping the rug and your feet that’s pressed down on his leaking cock, face pressed against the side of your thigh as his noises become more loud and debouched.

all he knew was to keep repeating the words you said. there was no need for him to think. why would he have the need to think when you were right there in front of him, helping him and being so cruel yet so sweet to him? blade didn’t needed to use his head when with you.

so, he just simply kept parroting your words through jumbled heap of mess. how he was your toy. your cute prey. your good boy. your love, blade. yours, yours, yours, yours—!

“uuunghh! mmpf-fuck! fuckfuckfuck! n-nnyaaghh♡︎♡︎!” twitching violently on his place on the floor, the immortal tries to break free from the ropes keeping his hands tied tightly to his sides. blade had always been a touchy guy, wanting to scratch your back, sides, hips, wherever his hands could reach. and yet he couldn’t. not this time and it’s all because of what he said and his own wishes.

so, he simply settles on mewling embarrassingly loud as his hips stutter in place, cock cumming untouched as he tries to hide his drooling face into the soft flesh of your thighs, soiling your feet with his own cum.

“g-gcckk.. m-more… unngh need you t-to fill me up” blade mumbles, voice muffled as he rubs his cock against your feet. he was already hard again and the skin on skin contact stung whenever he slowly humped your leg. oh but he loved it.

the red ropes matched his flushed cheeks and bleary eyes perfectly. so, who are you to stop now and deny your sweet boy?

[prentissluvr]

fake-dating!au headcanons — sam winchester

cw : gn!reader, fluff, pining!!!, blood mention, kissing, lil bit of swearing, poor editing, 1K words. requested !

prompt : you and sam pretend to be dating for a case.

MOVED BLOGS TO @sammyluvr !! no longer active on this blog! all fics can be found there!

⟢ “you’re too stiff, sam,” you hiss into his ear, leaning in close and making your features look all pleased as you say it, “we have to make this believable.”

⟢ when you pull back, sam looks like he’s trying not to blush, only because you’ve got your arms wrapped around his big upper arm, and you’re whispering things into his ear

⟢ he can feel your breath as you speak, and he thinks it could make him go absolutely crazy

⟢ he’s so flustered, and yet he’s starting to become determined to match your level of dedication, less so to succeed in the hunt, and more so to make you just as flustered as him

⟢ tonight, you pose as a lovesick couple in a decently nice restaurant

⟢ the monster you’re after has been scouting out couples here and preying on the most especially lovey dovey, affectionate couples it can find

⟢ you almost asked to do it with dean; he’s your best friend and you don’t have a massive crush on him like you do with sam

⟢ despite the fact that dean’s a weirdo, it would actually be easier to act the part with him because you’d feel exactly nothing except silly, but he insisted you do it with sam before you could even suggest anything else

⟢ and this close to sam, snuggled up into his side, you feel exactly… well, maybe, everything

⟢ you feel so much that you’d be zero percent surprised if you spontaneously combusted right then and there

⟢ and yet, you’re dedicated to finishing up this case, and you’re learning to enjoy the situation; if you have an excuse to be like this with sam, even just for a night, you’ll take it and make the best of it

⟢ you think you’re doing a grand old job at surviving the close contact, mostly because sam can’t seem to relax for longer than a minute

⟢ but you’re so in tune with him that you feel it the moment his perspective shifts from ‘i don’t know how to act, but i’m trying,’ to ‘i’m trying to induce a heart attack and kill you’

⟢ you’re sure that’s not how he thinks of it, but that’s what it feels like when he finally relaxes into your touch, then loops his arm around your waist and tugs you even closer to him

⟢ he leans close, his lips by your ear as he whispers, “yeah… and it looks like we have competition.”

⟢ you try desperately to keep your face from straying from its carefully constructed lovesick daze, but his breath against your ear makes it more than difficult to keep your composure

⟢ the lovesick look that you have for sam is actually a very natural state of being for you, but normally it comes about when you look at him from afar… 

⟢ or just not when your face is mere inches from his and his arm is solidly draped around your waist

⟢ it takes you a moment to register what sam actually said, and not thinking straight, you turn your head to look at him and ask for an explanation

⟢ you just don’t seem to recall that his face is only inches from yours, so close that your nose brushes against his and you suck in a sharp breath of surprise

⟢ it takes everything in you not to jerk backwards, but you stop yourself by grabbing the lapel of his suit

⟢ “competition?” you repeat, voice coming out quiet and a little raspy

⟢ “yeah,” he whispers back, eyes flicking away from yours for just a moment in the direction of another couple that had just walked into the restaurant

⟢ you glance over; they’re glued to each other’s side, wide smiles and heart eyes to rival anything you’ve seen

⟢ competition is right, which means that you and sam have to step it up, because you’ve spotted the monster already and he’s watching, looking for the best, most affectionate couple to take like he’s been going the past few weeks

⟢ you turn back to sam, looking him in the eyes with a sweet smile, “sam, can i kiss you on the cheek?” you whisper

⟢ “y-yeah, yeah, you can,” he whispers back

⟢ you think your heart could beat out of your chest as you lean closer, then press your lips to his cheek bone

⟢ you linger, then drop your head onto his shoulder and snuggle into him so that he can’t see the look on your face

⟢ whatever’s in your eyes isn’t just an act, and you’re unsure if you can let sam see that

⟢ though maybe it’ll help if the monster can, you’re sure that you look beyond in love at this moment

⟢ sam returns the favor with a kiss to the top of your head and a squeeze to your waist and he’s glad that you can’t see his face either because he looks just as completely and irrevocably in love as you do

⟢ it turns out that the other couple isn’t real competition; the monster clocks that they’re just a short fling, but you two? oh, you love each other and anyone can tell it with ease

⟢ you pretend to be lured out by the monster when he approaches, but the two of you make quick work of him in mere minutes

⟢ it’s the aftermath that’s hard

⟢ it’s the lack of an excuse to be so close to him, the thought of what if i never get to kiss him on the cheek again, what if i never get to kiss him at all? that really gets you

⟢ and now sam knows without a doubt that he goddamn needs you; he’s wondered before but now he knows

⟢ so when he reaches over and wipes away a splatter of blood from your face, you lean into his touch, you step towards him with intent

⟢ he’s not even thinking when his hand lands on your hip, not even when it pulls you closer

⟢ and he almost doesn’t think when he leans in, but he stops just inches away and whispers “fuck, can i kiss you?”

⟢ then your hands are in his hair and your lips are on his, kissing him hard and he’s kissing back with everything in him

⟢ you’re really fucking in love with each other !!!!

[darksilvania]

After finishing the Pokemon Type Challege I decided to add a third half lion pokemon to my Duo and make them a Trio.

CRYOSFINX [Cryo-Criosphinx] -Ice -The Frozen Horns Pokemon -Ability: Snow Cloack - Refrigerate(HA) -Dex: “It inhabits the very top of Kroel mountains where snow never melts. Its horns and wings are always frozen at sub zero temperatures, getting touched by them can cause instantaneous frostbite..“     -Megahorn     -Ice Fang     -Avalanche     -Noble Roar

MANTIQUORTZ [Manticore-Quartz] -Rock -The Rocky Stinger Pokemon -Ability: Strong Jaw - Rock Head(HA) -Dex: “It inhabits the lower rocky sides of the mountains, living inside the caves and tunnels. A powerful blow from is stinger can incapacitate any prey, but even at a distance it can shoot sharp shards from the tip, as strong and fast as a bullet.“     -Head Smash     -Crunch     -Rock Blast     -Stealth Rock

GAJASILICA [Gajasimha-Silicate] -Ground -The Sandy Tusk Pokemon -Ability: Sand Rush - Sand Force(HA) -Dex: “It inhabits the sandy dunes at the base of the mountain. It's body is always covered in sand, to the point where one cant tell where the sand ends and the pokemon begins. It has a gentle nature, but can become really violent when provoked. “     -Earth Power     -Scorching Sands     -Mud Bomb     -Sandstorm

This three pokemon are mortal enemies of each other, they keep themselves to their territories to avoid any conflict, but if they cross paths they will figh until only one remains standing.

While CRYOSFINX is based on the egyptian Criosphinx and MANTIQUORTZ is based on the persian Manticore, GJASILICA is based on the indian Gajasimha, a creature with the body of a lion and the head of an elephant

[linkedin-offficial]

cats who are slugs ‼️ img text under the cut!

the crimson brother (mario)

blinding, and easy to spot, which causes ALL creatures to become hostile towards it.

however, its strength is immense in rebuttal

landing on enemies stuns them, and being bitten poisons the perpetrator

its jump is incredibly high and impressive, being higher than any other slugcat

the tattletail (goombella)

a squirrel like slugcat that can crawl along the ground at high speeds

capable of seeing the health and stats of all creatures nearby

the eyes of this slugcat can glow when in darkness

the chelonian (koops)

a chitin covered slugcat that is capable of hiding within its shell when threatened

while in its shell, no damage can be taken for a certain amount of time. after this time is up, the shell cracks and dmg can be taken again

it takes one cycle for the shell to heal up again

the larva (kid yoshi)

a slugpup that holds the incredible ability to eat or swallow any creature, no matter the size

despite this, it is still incredibly fragile, and will perish to any amount of damage taken

the misted (madame flurrie)

when threatened, it can emit a thick mist that slows down enemies or completely stops them in their tracks

a slugcat who is obsessed with pearls

obtaining pearls to keep will make it stronger and nimble

the burning shade (vivian)

a mildly transparent slugcat that lurks in the shadows to pounce on prey

its fur and body are sizzling to the touch, and when a beast inhales the smoke they emit, its throat begins to burn. its demise is soon to come

it dons a hat given to it by its mechanical creator, in hopes it helps the creature maintain a shadowed presence

the mollusk (admiral bobbery)

a small yet sleek slugcat that lurks in the swamps and waters

it dons a shell akin to a snails, and uses it as a hiding place and a shelter to sleep

when inside the shell, it can sleep for one cycle, make mini explosions that stun (again, like snails), and traverse bodies of water

like the rivulet, this slugcat can swim, and cannot drown

the thief (ms.mowz)

this slugcat is meek and nimble, capable of jumping exceptionally high, taking zero fall damage.

this slugcat has a passive buff that makes them less likely to be noticed by enemies, despite their leucistic appearance

if this slugcat is forced to attack or defend, biting an enemy will steal health for its own

[alektro06]

It's something about Joel's decision to finally embrace family which directly led him to winning Wild Life.

It's something about Joel being a rogue agent in 3rd life, with no strong alliance to anybody but himself, the lone nomad in the woods with nobody but his army of dogs. The man that swore allegiance to the Red King through gritted teeth for no reason other than the protection he offered. The man that died surrounded by people, yes, but not friends, the King that swore his protection taking his last breath on the desert sand.

It's something about Joel in Last Life somehow distancing himself even further, his allyship with Scar at Magical Mountain strenuous at best even before his early fall into a red life. The man that hungered for the same chaos and bloodshed that befell him onto others, yet spent most of his days alone. The man that was hunted by everyone he wronged, the wolf turned prey making his last stand in a cold dark forest, his brief friendship with Grian a fleeting comfort as they both died alone as a result of their own carnage.

It's something about Joel in Double Life, linked to Etho as his soulmate though still oddly alone. The man who battled tirelessly to give himself and his teammate a peaceful life, the Relation-Ship which stood as a symbol of their devotion to eachother being burned to a crisp in a moment of pathetic irony, reminding him that no relationship to another player would ever truly last. The man who lost the final lives of both himself and his soulmate by the hands of the man he dared call a friend a mere season ago.

It's something about Joel in Limited Life, seemingly freed from his shackles of loneliness and becoming a part of one of the most powerful alliances on the server. A Bad Boy with his two fellow Bad Boy's always by his side ready to aid, not just an alliance but a friendship, a strong connection to fellow man for the first time in so long. It's about the cracks beginning to form in Joel's outlook on the games, taking it as his duty to assist Jimmy in protecting Grian as he was AFK for the 3rd session, a decision that was expected as a part of the alliance, sure, but not entirely necessary to guarantee his own survival. It's about Joel learning to care so deeply about his fellow Bad Boys, setting up the whole Bread Bridge, Skynet and Skynet 2.0 for surprise attacks not just for himself but for the rest of the Bad Boy's as well. It's about Joel dropping everything he was planning to do in an instant when Jimmy's time had begun to run out, quickly trying to plan out ways for his friend to get kills and keep him in the game all the while his own time was fleeting by the second. It's about Jimmy dying in front of him. His teammate, his friend gone in an instant, his last moments spent fumbling over a minecart Joel set up to earn him back whatever time they could manage, oblivious that it would be the last attempt he would ever make. It's about Joel breaking down over Jimmy's death, falling back into his rash nature as his mind was set on bringing destruction to the land once again, not for power this time, but vengeance. It's about Joel refusing to kill Grian a second time even as he begged him to do so, the guilt of taking even more time from a fellow Bad Boy too much for him to handle as his constant attacks against the Clockers and Scott grew fruitless and his fate was already sealed. It's about Joel's final words being a plea of help to his remaining Bad Boy, a moment of vulnerability he had never been allowed before being cut short as an arrow from Scott set his clock to zero.

It's something about Joel in Secret Life yearning for that same connection he felt with the Bad Boys, joining the Mounders early on however playing a more disconnected role in the group. It's about Joel deciding to base a bit behind the designated area of the Mounders on his own small hill surrounded by trees, the secluded life calling to him like an old friend. Maybe it was the safety the forest provided, or perhaps his own paranoia when betrayal was so common between the members of this series, relationships like these were not meant to last afterall. It's about Joel working mostly by his lonesome for the season, interacting with the Mounders when it was necessary, assisting them in building and plotting and doing enough to earn his keep, but at the same time keeping mostly to himself and his Fairground. It's about Joel showing up to Lizzie's party when nobody else did, the fear of a trap or ambush subdued by his responsibility to be there, to be present and join a loved one in a moment that meant something to them. It's about Joel and Lizzie sharing that quiet moment in Lizzie's hut, the barbaric nature of the server they were a part of outweighed by the fact that sometimes you simply had to put your faith in another person, even with the possibility of it hurting you. It's about Joel fighting with the Mounders until the end, accidentally contributing to Bdubs's death by setting him on fire with his bow before getting wiped out by Gem & The Scotts, Bdubs's death a final dose of salt in the wound that no matter how hard he tries, he can never keep all those he cares about alive.

It's something about Joel turning a new leaf in Wild Life, leaving behind his untrusting and lonely ways and finally embracing the role of Family in his life. It's about Joel partnering with Gem, quickly forming a close bond and considering eachother family, looking out for eachother as much as they would themselves. It's about Joel refusing to continue the pattern of senseless violence, traps and murders and instead focusing on keeping his family, his home, and himself safe, channelling that urge for battle into Defence rather than Offence. It's about Joel taking the safety of his family so seriously to the point of having to be held back by Gem at any insinuation of harm being done to them. It's about Joel and Gem supporting eachother on whatever endeavors they each chose to follow, because they trusted eachother to keep themselves safe and had faith in their ability to do so. It's about Joel agreeing to let Grian join their family after Mumbo and Skizz died. Perhaps a lingering fondness from the Bad Boys days, or more likely the fact that Joel knew what it was like to be alone, to have no one to support you, and he wouldn't wish that upon anyone now that he knew the strength of family. It's about Joel being the last green life and one of the last yellows, refusing to feed into senseless conflict until it was necessary to do so. It's about Joel fighting not just for himself, but for his family, standing strong even after his closest family had fallen for the sake of keeping her spirit alive and battling side by side with his newest family on Bam Mountain at the final showdown. It's about Joel and Grian being the final two, the man who's every action was for the sake of family against the one who had been his closest ally, often times his only ally so many times before. However blood always ran thicker than water...

It's something about Joel learning to trust others, to put their needs before his own, to be selfless in the love he gave and accepting the love he received back without fear. In the end it was not just his own abilities that contributed to his victory...

It was Family.

[treacheryinblue]

「 ON DISPLAY 」 noah sebastian ⨯ f!reader

▷ chapter three

noah is your neighbor and your new favorite view thanks to his lack of curtains. you're pretty sure he prefers it this way. but the man you've created in your imagination is nothing like reality and you soon find yourself falling prey to a past lifestyle you had been desperately on the run from. trigger warnings : language, eventual smut, violence, mention/flashbacks of abuse, alcohol and drug use, sexual harassment/assault (nongraphic). word count : 7.3k

masterlist

“Where do you think you're going, little deer?” 

You didn’t respond as strong hands circled around your waist from behind, his grip firm so he could force you back closer against him. There was zero fight in you because you had been imagining this moment from the very first time you laid eyes on him. You craved his skin on yours, his lips trailing your flushed body, fingers drifting lower and lower until he was able to trace along your inner thigh. 

“You shouldn't run from me. It isn't very nice.” 

A warmth spread through your body and collected right between your thighs where his fingers were dancing dangerously close to. His hips pushed into your backside, allowing you to feel that he was already achingly hard for you. You wanted to turn around and release him from his pants because it would be so easy for him to sink into you then. All you would have to do is spread your legs. 

Noah's free hand twisted in your hair and he roughly tugged your head back, baring your throat. A low growl emitted from deep within his chest as he kissed and bit up your sensitive skin, his tongue occasionally dragging across one of the superficial wounds to sooth the pain. Fuck, you were going to lose yourself before he even touched you where you needed him the most. Everything about him was just so intoxicating and you were hooked. This had to be what expensive designer drugs felt like. A high you would forever chase. 

“Do you know what happens to naive little deer who wander too close to the highway?” The grip he had on your hair tightened, your scalp screaming in pain. This was going beyond rough foreplay. Noah was actually trying to cause you harm. But why did it still feel so damn good? Your heart hammered within your chest loud enough that it was all you could hear over his sadistic chuckle. He released your hair so his hand could circle around to the front of your throat, encasing your delicate neck in his powerful hold. Your breath refused to enter your lungs, the fear of what he was capable of finally sinking in. 

“They become nothing more than a carcass on the side of the road. Decaying and forgotten.” 

X X X

The dream stuck with you throughout the day. It wasn't the first time you had experienced an X-rated fantasy about your favorite neighbor, but it was definitely the first time it had concluded like that. You usually woke up before it ended all together, your release never coming even in dreamland, though it seemed as if your subconscious was playing a deadly game with you now. Was it a warning to beware of Noah? Or simply your past intertwining with the present to forever haunt you? 

You stood in your living room, bowl of cereal in your hand, slowly chewing as you stared at your closed curtains. It was the first instance you had closed them for your own benefit since encountering Noah and something felt wrong about it but you needed your space. You needed a moment when you weren't searching for his face through panes of glass to get your thoughts straight. The dream had really fucked with you. 

Was he capable of those actions? You still knew next to nothing about him. Your late night texting sessions were spent mostly talking about nothing of importance, only surface level facts about each other. When would you be able to dive deeper into him? You couldn't even be mad at him for keeping you at an arm's length, though, because you were doing the same thing to him. That's what was safest for both of you. 

The sound of your phone vibrating from the kitchen counter broke your concentration. You circled around to where it rested, a mouthful of Lucky Charms hindering your ability to talk. The call ended before you could answer it, but immediately started vibrating again for a second incoming call. 

Speak of the devil. 

“Hello?” You answered after struggling to swallow your sugary cereal in time. 

“Are you okay?” Noah immediately questioned, his voice full of worry. 

“Huh? Oh, yeah. Was I supposed to be at work already? I thought I wasn't in until 9 –”

“Your curtains are closed.” 

You paused, your eyes glancing to the curtains that most certainly were pulled taut. You knew he would notice but you didn't think he would actually care. 

“The sun was glaring in all weird earlier. I nearly went blind.” You tried to lighten the mood with a soft laugh despite your easily spoken lie. 

“Open them.” He demanded, disregarding your explanation. Your mouth opened and closed with a lack of words because you had no idea how to respond to him. Noah was bossy towards you when at work, as you expected, but this side of him was rarely ever seen beyond the doors of Nocturnal. 

“Please,” he continued, his tone apologetic. “I just need to be able to see you.” 

You said nothing as you crossed over your living room and to the far wall where the window was typically seen. Heavily sighing, you forced the material apart, opening back up his view to the privacy of your life. He stood in his own apartment, a wave of relief visibly washing over him when his eyes locked with yours. 

“There. Happy?” Before he was able to respond, you ended the call and turned on your heel to saunter away from the window. He said he wanted the curtains open, not that you had to remain in view. 

X X X

HOT NEIGHBOR: Let me drive you to work. 

YOU: It’s okay. I don't mind the walk. 

HOT NEIGHBOR: It's freezing outside. We're headed to the same place. I'd be an asshole if I let you walk in the cold by yourself. 

You were still mad at him for his little show of dominance earlier but you couldn't pass on the offer. Noah was right, it was freezing outside and your Nocturnal uniform was not meant to keep you warm in the least bit. The club did offer a dressing room for the employees so you could always dress more practical during your commute but the less time you spent in an area without cameras, the better. There was no telling what sort of havoc Charlotte was in the mood to wreak on any given day. 

That logic is what brought you to sitting in the passenger seat of Noah’s black Porsche Cayenne. His business car, so he exclaimed upon noticing the look you gave the luxury SUV. 

“I'm sorry,” Noah finally said after five whole minutes of awkward silence settled in. “For how I acted…about the curtains.” 

You pried your eyes from the blur of the city so you could look at him. He appeared genuine in his apology, at least from what you could tell. So, you were going to give him the benefit of the doubt this time. You couldn't think of a single reason as to why you shouldn't and hopefully this didn't turn around to bite you in the ass. “It's fine,” you replied, offering a soft smile. “I appreciate the apology, though.” 

Noah's posture remained tense, your acceptance of his apology not easing the obvious discomfort he felt. You studied him for a moment, your eyes tracing along his clenched jaw, down the length of his arms, pausing at the way he was white knuckle gripping the steering wheel. Normally you would be scared if it was Vane sitting there, giving off the same energy, but when it was Noah…all you wanted to do was comfort him. 

“I promise I wasn't trying to be some weird pervert,” he further explained after taking a glance at you and clocking your concerned expression. “I just needed to make sure that you were okay.”

Shit. Did Noah know more about your past than what he was letting on? No, there was no way. Not unless he and Jolly did a deep dive after realizing the name and social security number you gave weren't in existence a year ago. Shit.

“Why wouldn't I have been okay?” You finally plucked up the courage to ask. 

“A lot of crazy people in the city,” he murmured. No further explanation given. 

X X X 

A lot of crazy people in the city, he had said with that arrogantly enticing voice of his. What the fuck did that mean? It wasn't like you didn't already know this, but why was he saying it to you as if you weren't already aware? You couldn't shake the feeling that maybe it was a warning. Definitely not a threat…right? That couldn't be it. Noah wouldn't have been concerned about your safety if he was threatening you. Fuck. You hated this game. 

Dragging your fingers through your hair, you took in a deep breath and then slowly exhaled, eyes focused down on the tips you had finished counting. It was just enough to cover the remainder of your bills that were coming up, which you were praying your thanks for to whatever God was out there and listening. This meant you wouldn't have to beg Jolly to put you on for an extra shift. Amazing. Your pride could hang on for at least another month. 

Money hadn't always been an issue. Your father was a wealthy man, which subsequently meant you were too when growing up, but you eventually stopped relying on him. After finding out where all of this money of his came from, you began working little jobs to support yourself. He never let you move out, not until Vane, so you had no choice in terms of lodging. But everything else? You paid for yourself. You didn't want his blood money. It wasn't yours to take. 

“Not as much as you were hoping for, new girl?” 

Charlotte laughed to herself as she came walking into the dressing room, her hips dramatically swaying with every step she took. She was eying you with one of her little shit eating grins that usually meant she was seconds away from making your night hell, and you were so far from in the mood for it. Why couldn't you just have one peaceful shift? That's all you were asking for. 

Quickly you began to gather your tips, neatly stacking all of the bills together into a pile that you could easily grab while standing from the vanity. You barely even looked Charlotte’s way, but you could feel the animosity radiating off of her. She truly had it out for you, although you weren't sure if it was completely because of Noah. You barely even crossed paths with him when at work. 

“Saw you getting out of King’s car earlier.” 

Well…fuck. Maybe it was all because of Noah after all. 

You heavily sighed after tucking your tips away as you shimmied your work skirt off of your hips and down your legs, only to replace it with a pair of comfy sweatpants. Silence continued to be your only means of defense. Your goal was to have Charlotte grow bored of tormenting you so she could move on to someone else. You didn't think that was too horrible of a plan…if it worked out in your favor. 

“Not even going to try to deny it? Wow, you're already getting around fast. Wonder how long it'll be before the boss wants his go at you too. They're known to share.” 

Venom laced her words, each one meant to hurt you, but it would take a lot more than some immature comments to get under your skin. Was it annoying? Yes. Was it going to make you lose your cool? No. 

“I'm sure they are,” you muttered without a hint of emotion. While you didn't really believe Charlotte, you also couldn't say for sure. These men were still mostly strangers to you, especially Jolly. There was no way of knowing what sort of vile or perverse things they got into behind closed doors. 

As you snatched your bag out of your locker, you made a beeline for the door that would lead you away from Charlotte and closer to the safety of your own home. Multiple pairs of eyes watched you from the circle of mirrors, all of them curious as to what would happen next. You wanted to yell that there would be no show for them but you were immediately proven wrong. The rough collision of a bony shoulder into your own made you stagger back a step. Did she really just fucking shoulder check you? Your eyes remained set forward, jaw clenched, heart rate increasing by the second. 

Now that would cause you to lose your cool. 

The bag you held was then released from your grip and you rushed over to the mostly plastic blonde. She gasped at the sudden motions you made, the sound of it being silenced from the way you forced her roughly into the wall. Your body leaned into hers to prevent her from slipping away, the length of your forearm securing at the base of her neck. It wasn't just men you were tired of pushing you around – it was everyone. 

“Keep fucking with me and you will regret it.”

“Get off of me, you crazy bitch!”

Charlotte was looking at you with panic in her eyes. Her acrylic nails dug into your forearm as she tried to rip you off of her, but there was a strength behind your stance that most never noticed until you were having to prove to them just how not passive and weak you were. In your mind, it was their fault that things escalated to this because they were the ones underestimating you. It wasn't the first time and it surely wouldn't be the last. 

With your eyes glaring into Charlotte’s, you waited a couple of more seconds before finally releasing her. She shoved you away, her own body quickly putting space between you in a simultaneous motion. That's when your expression softened and you glanced around, noticing that all eyes were indeed on you again. Only Charlotte looked frightened, while the others were merely a mixture of slight shock and maybe a hint of impressed. It wasn't often that people stood up to Charlotte. 

“You're fucking insane,” Charlotte hissed. You ignored her, silence overtaking you again as you gathered your things and headed out of the dressing room without so much as a glance back. Maybe you were insane, and for good reason, but your little show of dominance had not been done in the name of insanity. Charlotte would eventually come to realize this. 

You hadn't yet made it out of Nocturnal when a dark figure fell into step at your side. You didn't need to look his way to know who it was because you could feel him. You somehow always knew when he was near. It was a lame superpower but maybe it would one day come in handy. 

“Where are you headed in such a hurry?” Images from your dream flashed before your eyes. Your jaw clenched, though you tried your best to remain unresponsive to it. 

“Home.”

“If you linger for a bit longer I can give you a ride.” 

Maybe Noah wasn't picking up on your sour mood or maybe he was choosing to ignore it. Either way, you weren't interested in finding out whatever underlying motives he had for being so nice to you, so you shook your head in a silent response. He wasn't good for you. This place sure as hell wasn't either, but it would have to do until you could find something better. Preferably somewhere less chaotic. 

“What happened?” Cool fingers lightly wrapped around your wrist so he could bring your arm up a bit more in the dim lighting for a better view. Noah’s brows pulled together in worry, his focus shifting from the red claw marks going across your forearm to your eyes despite how you refused to meet his gaze. You heavily sighed, your annoyance towards him keeping you from exiting the building rather obvious. 

“Nothing. I'm fine.” 

“Who did this to you?” He continued to press. 

You finally looked at the scratches on your arm that were the only evidence of the altercation you had with Charlotte. Some spots were deeper than others, blood lightly pooling at the surface but not enough to spill over. The wounds would heal in a matter of days so you weren't sure why Noah was concerned about it, especially when you weren't. 

“I probably just grazed the counter or something,” you explained the injury away while tugging your arm out of his grip. 

Noah’s gaze never faltered from your own. If anything, it only grew in intensity. You could practically see all the things he wanted to say swirling around in his head, though you both remained silent for a long moment. This seemed to be the usual for you – both of you waiting for the other to break first. 

Slowly he descended upon you, his steps heavy and deliberate. You felt like you had no choice but to take careful paces backwards until your back hit a wall and you were cornered. You could've slipped away by side stepping him but something about the way he was looking at you had you in a daze. You didn't want to be anywhere but beneath his sights. 

His tattooed fingers ghosted along your injured forearm and over your shoulder, only to pause at the angle of your jaw. Your breath hitched in your throat, chills forming along your skin in the wake of his touch. Fuck. Was this another dream? It felt very real but you weren't going to put it past your subconscious to conjure up such a scenario. 

“You need to tell me if someone here is hurting you.” His voice was low and soothing, the epitome of danger. The backs of his fingers then caressed your jaw, down to the side of your neck. You tried to remain as guarded as possible but your body soon betrayed you by releasing the smallest of whimpers. You were praying he hadn't heard it, although the slight uptick of the corner of his lips told you otherwise. 

Swallowing, you again shook your head. “No one is hurting me.” 

You couldn't reveal the culprit of the scratches without also throwing yourself under the bus. Charlotte may have been the instigator, as usual, but you overreacted in a way that wasn't characteristically you. You were at just as much fault as she was and you couldn't stand having another little talk with Charlotte, Noah, and Jolly about it. 

What if Noah's view on you changed if he were to find out about the secrets and darkness lurking within you? 

He breathed out through his nose as his hand fell away from your body. You could tell that he was disappointed in your response, easily seeing through the lie. But what could he do? Clearing his throat, he took a step back while slipping his hand into his pocket, mimicking your nod. 

“Let me know when you're home safe.” Noah requested, or more so demanded, before leaving you in the corner and heading back the way he had come. 

NOAH 

That goddamn whimper was going to be the death of him. It replayed on a loop in his head again and again, the smallest of sounds becoming his new favorite song. He wanted to know what other sort of noises he could pull from you. Were you all heavy breaths and whimpers when it came down to it? Or were you loud and unapologetic for the sounds of pleasure erupting from you? His dick twitched at the mere thought, causing him to mentally scold himself for stooping to such levels. 

Shaking off all thoughts of you, he typed the code into the keypad that separated him from Jolly’s office. The lock released, allowing him entry. Jolly sat behind his desk wearing the same perplexed expression as usual, his eyes focused on his computer screen. Neither said anything, the only sound coming from Noah dropping down into the chair across from the desk. He could be more relaxed when it was just the two of them – his mask temporarily removed. 

“I still haven't gotten a hit.” 

Jolly had been trying his best to find any sort of information about you, but ultimately came up empty handed. Your name led nowhere. Social security number, nowhere. Even the fucking phone number had zero information tied to it. You were obviously trying to hide yourself and it was clear you had paid someone a pretty penny to do so. 

“I don't think she's dangerous. She doesn't seem like she knows anything about her other…employer.” Noah shrugged, his hands folded and resting on his lower stomach. He wanted to believe that this was true. He wanted so badly to believe that you weren't placed in his path on purpose by an opposing force. Maybe fate was blessing him for once and you were something good. 

“Jesus fucking Christ, man. You're already caught up on her?” Jolly shook his head, a chuckle of disbelief sounding from him. 

“I'm not caught up,” he defended. “I just don't see the reason for wasting our resources on one girl. I mean, think about it.” Noah shifted his position so he was leaning forward, elbows propped up on his knees. “We make a living off girls who don't want to be found. Never once have you doubted them.” 

“Their situations aren't the same and you know that.” 

“How do we know her situation isn't the same?” 

It wasn’t often that Noah disagreed with his best friend because their opinions and morals typically aligned. So why was Jolly so stuck on this? 

“Fucking pussy whipped.” Jolly muttered with a shake of his head. 

That made Noah’s hands twitch, his lips pressing into a straight line that told Jolly he was walking on thin ice. They may be best friends and business partners, but not even that would stop Noah from putting him in his place if he had to. 

The ringing of Jolly’s phone cut through the thickening tension, allowing them both a moment to decompress. 

“Now?” He questioned the person on the other line, his eyes rolling. “Why the fuck is someone here now?” 

Noah raised his brows. Visitors? 

“Were they searched? Thoroughly?” Jolly paused, the other person speaking. “Fine. Bring them up.” 

“Who is it?” Noah rolled his shoulders back while standing from the chair so he could take his spot at Jolly’s side. He thought this was going to be a relaxing night but from the clench in his friend's jaw, it didn't seem as if it was headed that way. 

“Never heard of them. They're from out of state.” 

The words were murmured just as a knock came from the door, which Jolly promptly pressed the button beneath his desk to unlock. Three men came waltzing in, all of them with a chip on their shoulders. One guy was bigger than him and Jolly put together, the other two more their size. Noah studied them all, remembering as many defining characteristics as he could just in case shit went south. One could never be too careful. 

“You're Jolly?” The man in the center spoke, his eyes looking the boss up and down as if he wasn't impressed. 

“In the flesh.”

All three men chuckled to themselves but their focus remained forward. Or so Noah assumed, considering the man on the right was wearing a pair of dark tinted sunglasses. It was night time and they were indoors but who was he to judge someone’s unfortunate fashion choices? 

“You can call me Dante,” Center Man lamely introduced himself. 

Jolly gave a slight nod, his body language reading as neutral but Noah knew otherwise. “What can I help you gentlemen with?” 

The man in the center, Dante, rummaged through the pocket of his coat, immediately sending Noah’s senses into high alert. His fingertips grazed the handle of the knife he had slid up his sleeve as he crossed his arms in a nonchalant manner. No way were these imbeciles getting the jump on them. 

“We’re looking for someone. A girl.” 

Laughter erupted from Jolly, his gaze shifting back to Noah who joined in on the laughter, but only faintly. 

“Aren't we all? I, myself, would love to find a natural red head with a bright smile, about…this tall.” He held his hand up to about the height of his shoulder, a dreamy exhale to follow. “No luck so far, I'm afraid.” 

Dante tossed a picture down onto the desk, his demeanor proving how uninterested he was in Jolly’s jokes. “We're looking for this girl. A friend said she's been hanging around your establishment.” 

Noah stepped forward so he could peer down at the image while Jolly did the same. His insides churned, all thoughts briefly leaving his mind. On the inside he was spinning, but on the outside he appeared as collected as ever. He always did have a poker face that couldn't be rivaled. It had never failed him before but seeing your face between Jolly’s fingers was surely putting it to the test. 

Heavily exhaling, Jolly held the picture up higher as if he was thoroughly examining it. There was no doubting who it was staring back at them, though. Your face was one he had memorized perfectly by now. 

“Can't say she looks familiar,” the boss placed the picture back down, pushing it towards the men. “I think I'd remember a pretty little thing like that. I guess your friend was misinformed.” 

Noah knew Jolly was acting his part but that didn't stop his molars from grinding at the way he spoke of you. He glanced between all three men, his eyes lingering just a bit longer on Sunglasses Man due to the way his fist clenched in response to Jolly’s statement. 

Interesting. 

“And what about you? Seen her around?” 

The question was now directed at Noah, which he promptly responded to with a shake of his head. “Being head of security, I have a decent memory of those who come and go from here, especially if it's on the regular. But I've never seen this girl before.” 

“You don't think she could've slipped through unnoticed?” Dante followed up with another question, his stare menacing. 

Noah merely raised a brow, a silent warning for the unknown man to realize who the fuck he was talking to. 

To break through the silence, Jolly cleared his throat, a hand motioning down to the picture of you again. “Is she dangerous? Someone we should be on the lookout for?” 

The picture was snatched from the table and securely tucked away in Dante’s pocket again. He glanced to Sunglasses before giving a mediocre shrug and wickedly grinning. “You could say that.” 

Slowly nodding, Jolly took a few steps around his desk so he could be more head on with the men. He continued to keep his composure friendly and calm, a hand extending out towards the only door in the office. “If there's nothing else we can do for you, let me walk you back down. Maybe we can have a drink on the house.” 

The unknown men murmured amongst each other but ultimately followed the boss’ guidance out of the office, Sunglasses taking a final look back to Noah. He didn't need to see his eyes to know that he was looking him up and down, probably trying to memorize everything he could just as Noah had. 

There were a few short seconds where it was Jolly and Noah left, just enough time for Jolly to convey a look that told him to get to the bottom of this. 

He didn't need to be told twice. Not when his mind was already racing with different scenarios. Maybe Jolly was right and you were working for the enemy, thus making you a risk. That just wasn't the sort of feeling Noah got when he was with you, though, but there was always a chance. He didn't know you. What if everything you had ever said about yourself was a complete lie? A fabricated version meant to get close to him in order to tear apart his business from the inside out? 

Noah ran a hand over his face, his thumb and forefinger pressing into his eyes while he released a sigh of pure frustration. There was a headache brewing beneath the surface, the pressure beginning to build. Before he could get too caught up in his thoughts, the feeling of his phone vibrating within his pocket brought him back down from the edge. 

YOU: Made it home. 

Attached was a picture of your window with the curtains pulled open still. He could barely make out the image of your reflection silhouetted on the glass. 

Good, because this meant he knew exactly where to find you. 

READER

You could've sworn you had turned all the lights off. Actually, you were pretty certain of it. You vividly remember flipping the light switch down in your kitchen and living room before going to shower because your sleeve had gotten hung…so why was there now a dim glow illuminating the hallway in front of your room? Although you were tired, you knew you weren't that tired to have imagined it. 

One hand rubbed your sleep heavy eyes as the other trailed the wall to help you maintain your balance. You were half conscious; your hair was still damp, so you knew you hadn't been asleep for too long, but it was seemingly just the right amount to leave you slightly disoriented. As you came to a stop in the living room, your gaze narrowed at the back of the figure standing in front of your window. That's when your heart immediately began to race, your eyes widening, the adrenaline seeping into your veins. Your first instinct was to run but your body hesitated to the command. 

No. It couldn't be. He wasn't…you had…it was impossible for Vane to be there. 

“You're a heavy sleeper.” 

Blinking, you took a step back. That voice didn't belong to Vane. It was far too calming. Not quite manic enough. 

“I wasn't exactly quiet when I helped myself to a glass of water after washing your dishes.” 

“Noah?” 

The man turned, his brows raised while taking in the image of your stumped and alarmed face. You were sure you were quite the sight right then. His features began to sharpen the longer you stared at him, your bearings slowly returning to you. Damn. You really must've been in a deep sleep for it to be taking this long to wear off. 

“What are you doing here? How…” you glanced to your front door that was still securely locked. “How did you get in?” 

Was it odd that you still weren't scared of him? How fucked up did that make you? There you were, standing pantsless and unarmed, with a mostly unknown man staring at you as if you were his prey. Someone sane would've ran for a weapon - the side lamp was closest to you - but the thought didn't even cross your mind. Fuck, he really did have you under some sort of spell. 

“I have a question for you, but I'm only going to ask it once.” Noah slowly began to close the space between you until he was within arms reach. You followed every motion, your hands fisted at your side – not in preparation to defend yourself, but so you weren't tempted to touch him. 

“And you only have one chance to answer it honestly. Tell me that you understand.” 

You gave a small nod, the response barely noticeable. You knew you needed to run. You needed to put as much space between you two as you possibly could. Did you do either of those things? Of course not. 

Noah’s eyes trailed your face. You could see him shifting from your own eyes, to your nose, and then down to your lips. He briefly paused, straightened his posture and hardened his expression, then bore into your eyes again. You noticed the mask from Nocturnal being pulled down. This wasn't going to be the hot neighbor version of Noah you had grown fond of. 

“Who are you?”

Fuck. 

Your head shook in feigned confusion, brows furrowing. “What do you mea–”

Suddenly his hand was around your throat, all words halting on your tongue. Your head was forced back due to his firm grip, giving you no choice but to look up at him. The hold he had on you wasn't painful despite his strength which told you that he wasn't out for blood…yet. His lips pressed into a thin line to showcase his impatience, a deep exhale exiting from his nose. This may be the first time you actually felt threatened by Noah. And for good reason considering your life was literally in his hands. 

“I'm not going to repeat myself.” 

You grabbed his wrist as his hand tightened around your throat. It wasn't enough to cut off your breathing, but it did convey the warning you knew he was trying to extend. Your gaze remained locked on his, silently begging with your eyes for him to let you go. Noah appeared none the wiser to it and instead dragged you closer against him until your bodies were flush. Any other time you would have been ecstatic for the closeness. 

Tears began welling in your eyes and you shook your head the best you could. “I can't,” you gasped. 

“Then tell me who sent you.” Noah demanded before roughly guiding you back into the closest wall. His body still never strayed from yours. 

“What?” You were definitely confused now. “No one sent me!” Releasing his wrist, you began to push at his chest in a vain attempt to get him off of you. As much as you enjoyed the warmth and hardness of his body along yours, you weren't prepared to die for it. 

“I don't believe in coincidences. You just so happened to move into an apartment with a perfect view of mine and then get a job at the club I own? Someone planted you and I need you to tell me who.” 

Noah was fighting off every push and smack you made to his chest with only one hand as if he had played this game hundreds of times. You groaned in frustration, a string of jumbled profanities escaping past your lips. 

“I moved here because it's where my best friend lives! She also knows Shauna, who's the person that suggested I apply at Nocturnal! Now get off of me!” 

Finally your hand collided with his cheek in a loud slap that sent his head twisting to the side. Your motions stalled, eyes widening, both of you falling silent. Noah’s jaw clenched hard enough that you could see the tick of the muscle straining. There was a part of you that wanted to know what it would feel like beneath your tongue despite the current position he had you in. That part of yourself scared you a little bit. You were supposed to be fearful of this man, right? He had broken into your home and was now interrogating you, all actions that would panic a normal person. 

Little did Noah know, you had endured much worse and come out the victor. That's how you were still here today. 

Before you could further react, Noah had you turned around and shoved into the wall again with a force that temporarily had you seeing stars. The front of his body pressed into your back, his mouth situated close enough to your ear that you could feel the shift of his lips with every word he spoke. 

“Why are you lying to me?” A shiver raced down your spine, his voice low and threatening. Gone was the calming tone. Something about it was getting the opposite intended reaction from you, though. You had to press your thighs together to get your thoughts straight enough to respond. 

“I'm not…I swear. That's the truth.” 

Your breathing was slightly labored, strands of hair that had fallen into your face now waving with every exhale. Noah didn't lessen his hold on you but you could feel his body relax somewhat, his left hand lifting to brush your hair gently from your face. He then gripped your chin and turned your head until you were peering at him from over your shoulder. The tension around his eyes had softened, so you allowed your own expression to do the same. You could've fought him off if you really wanted to. Deep down you knew this. So…why weren't you? 

Silence overcame you both. Each challenging the other.

“Do people want you dead?” You finally asked when he made no move to speak again. He seemed too distracted by the shape of your lips – that being where his eyes had lingered. 

“Yes, a few.” 

“They're dangerous?” 

Noah nodded, his fingers flexing along your jaw. “Yes.”

“Are you…dangerous?” 

After a brief moment of contemplation, he again nodded. “When I have to be.”

“Who are you?” This time you asked the million dollar question of him, your voice a near whisper but still unwavering. 

A faint smirk pulled at Noah’s lips and then he was leaning in closer, your faces on the verge of touching. You could feel his breath on your cheek, the minty scent clouding your senses and causing you to involuntarily push back against him. He must have liked that by the way he sharply inhaled, his free hand dropping to palm your hip with a near bruising grip. Only an inch or so further and his fingertips would be grazing your bare thigh – something you were idiotically hoping for.  

As if he could read your mind, his hand began a slow descent past the hem of the oversized tee you were wearing. Noah took his time tracing your skin, drifting closer and closer to the thin material of your panties, only to pause the moment he made contact. Images from your dream swirled within your mind again. Were you some kind of psychic or something? This was all feeling way too familiar. 

“I think I asked you first.” 

You breathed out shakily. Every nerve in your body was on fire. You had never craved another person like you did him, even when he was threatening you. 

Did you cave in to his demands and tell him who you were? Was that a risk you were willing to take? You weren't so sure. If you confessed to everything and ended up dead because of it, then you would have no one to blame but yourself. And what if he also ended up six feet under? You would never be able to forgive yourself. 

“Noah…please…” your voice shook and your bottom lip quivered, tears still threatening to fall past your lashes. You needed him to believe you and to stop digging; not just for your safety, but also his. “I promise I'm not after you or the club.” 

He scoffed from the back of his throat in response, his gaze intensifying ever so slightly again. “You expect me to believe that? After seeing the type of people that are asking about you? Who you work for? It's going to take more than some pretty begging to convince me otherwise.” 

Wait…what? 

Your body jerked slightly – an attempt to move away from him but the annoying fucking wall was in the way. Quickly you made a rash decision and pushed his hand from between your thighs (something you were sure you would come to regret) and then sent your elbow driving back into his chest. Noah grunted on impact, though his body only stumbled back a couple of steps before he was righting himself. That was fine. It was more than enough room for you to turn to face him. 

In a swift motion, you had his knife in your grasp after slyly snatching it from his pocket, the blade extended and pointed at his neck. He shouldn't have been so obvious about where he kept it when you were around. His fault for underestimating you. All this time he never thought of you as a threat and look at where that landed him. 

“What did you just say?” 

“Give me the knife.” Noah held one hand out towards you as the other rubbed the spot on his chest you had made contact with. You liked that you had been able to take him by surprise. 

“Who? Who was asking about me?!”

This was all you were concerned about. You no longer gave a fuck about who Noah thought you were or what he thought you were after because none of it mattered when you were still actively being hunted. 

Noah's lips curved into a sideways smirk yet again, his eyes then looking you up and down as if this was the first time he had ever seen you. And maybe it was. You clearly were no longer his curious and innocent neighbor with a staring problem. No, you were his stubborn as fuck neighbor that knew her way around a weapon and would use one unapologetically if pushed to it. 

“You know what…” Noah stood to his full height and adjusted the jacket he wore by tugging on the front. He took on an impressed face, his hands raising to silently show his surrender. “You can keep it.”

Silence continued to overtake you as you studied his every move. You weren't going to let your guard down. Not now that you knew what he was capable of, at least to an extent. One wrong move and you could end the night with this blade in your chest. 

“Tell me who would be looking for you and I'll see what I can do to help.”

“Why the hell would you do that when I'm still pointing a knife at you?” 

“Because you're obviously scared.” 

Noah was right. As much as you hated to admit it, you were scared. It wasn't a secret, but you did greatly dislike showing any sort of weakness in that realm. Never had it gotten you anywhere before but bruised and sometimes bloodied. 

You didn't even notice as Noah approached. You were too lost in your mind. He carefully took the knife from your trembling hand, his touch hesitant but soft. The tough exterior you had tried to wear so well finally cracked, your true fear showing through. Tears that had been held at bay all this time broke free and a couple of droplets slowly slid down your flushed cheeks. 

“Anyone looking for me wants me dead,” you revealed in a barely-there murmur. 

Almost immediately his arms were wrapped around you. Noah pulled you in close, allowing you to tuck your head into his chest where your tears could freely fall. You clung to him, your fingers grasping at the back of his jacket and fisting the material into your palms. There was barely a time you had felt safe in years, not until that very moment. 

“I'll tell you, okay? I'll tell you whatever you need to know.” Your words found space between your hiccups and sniffles. You were trying to put the dam back into place so your tears would cease, but that would always be much easier said than done. 

Noah shifted until he could grasp your shoulders. He pulled you away from his chest solely so your eyes could meet. You knew yours were red and puffy now, all while he kept ahold of that intense gaze of his that he did so well. It was so easy to get lost in the deep brown color. 

“I'm not going to let anyone hurt you,” he exclaimed. “Just trust me.” 

You nodded while silently praying that you weren't about to make a decision you would ultimately come to regret. 

▷ tag list

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let me know if you would like to be added!

[hurthermore]

What would being locked up in your Humam Al’s cellar be like? I would assume that’s his ‘second’ kitchen like where he chops up victims so would you be down there with body parts? Or would be make it a comfortable living space for you? Maybe he doesn’t need to do that because similar to a time out chair it’s not for an extended period time. How would he respond if the reader escaped?

OOO NOW THIS IS AN ASK… maybe spoilers ahead for Misconduct? Idk… maybe, this is just a what if the reader was combative scenario.

Warning for heavy yandere themes

It’s dark and gloomy, due to how zero natural light can leak in the room, you wouldn't be able to see the remnants of blood that seeped through the cracks in the floorboards.

It smells like a rotting corpse; extremely repugnant. How he had made it so the smell couldn't exude into the rest of the cabin, you didn't know.

It doesn't take a second glance into the cellar to know that this is where he preps his victims for consumption. Whether they're dead or alive whilst he preps their flesh is a whole other story.

Alastor doesn't plan on throwing you down into his human-butchering cellar, but if you attempt to leave him, or start to become combative? Well, you're not giving him much choice on the matter now, are you?

It's the perfect place to lock you away for your bad behaviour; it has a strong lock for a reason.

But fret not, Alastor loves you, he wouldn't just leave you down there all alone. No, he would spend all his free time with you; he craves for your presence, regardless of any punishment you may need to go through.

He will still chop up his victims in the cellar with you there, so prepare to hold your stomach if that makes you feel queasy.

If by chance you started banging on the door or yelling for someone to help you whilst Alastor wasn't in the room with you, he will know about it, no matter how discrete you attempted to be.

He didn't want to chain you against the metal pipe in the corner of the room, but you wouldn't stop begging for him to let you out. It broke his heart, made him feel so guilty; an emotion he never thought he'd experience before.

He wouldn't be able to mentally stand it if you kept screaming, kept begging. He feared he might let you out if he had to hear your cries any longer, so he had to resort to shoving something in your mouth; what is up to you.

If by chance, you escaped, (which you wouldn't, this is Alastor, so bffr) you would break his heart into a million pieces. He thought you loved him, loved him like he loves you. So why are you running?

Ensue a chase scene, like a poorly made horror movie. Alastors place of residency is far into the bayous; so far you wondered if it was even legal to have property there. Luckily, theres a dirt road to follow, but even so, you would most likely get lost and probably eaten by some type of wild animal before you found your way out.

Luckily for you, or not, Alastor will always find you; he has a natural knack for finding his prey. So regardless of the potential hazards ahead, Alastor will get to you first. And despite how disturbing his stance may look, how sinisterly unhinged his facial expression is as he walks toward you, he will hold you with such gentleness thats more frightening than his deranged physical demeanour.

If you try shoving him off you, he won't threaten you; no, no, no, he could never threaten you. But his hold on you will get tighter, rougher, it may cause bruises depending on how combative you decide to be. Eventually you'll be hoisted over his shoulder as he takes you back home.

He'll ask you why, why you ran, why you wanted to leave him; and if the crack in his voice doesn't break your heart as he asks you those words, you must be more evil than him.

Depending on how apologetic you are, he might contemplate letting you stay up on the first floor and not the cellar. He will know if you're faking your apology though, so don't even try it, or you'll be put right back into the place you just tried escaping from.

If you want the best life with Alastor, to never see that cellar again, you need to love him, shower him in love, treat him like he treats you, pamper him in your presence and so forth.

Try escaping one more time, and Alastor will make sure you won't be able to walk again. Period.

»»------► 𝙼𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

Half-baked elemental abilities au where most people have earth, water, fire, air powers, and those who don't are nearly ostracized, definitely looked down upon.

The Luthors, as a rule, are all fire. The marry fire, birth fire, there hasn't been a single Luthor who doesn't use fire. Until Lena. She shows absolutely zero elemental ability, and is believed to be without any ability at all-- she maintains a decent quality of life physically, but emotionally she's abused and made to feel less-than all her life, and it shows.

Kara is definitely of the air. Exceptionally gifted, she even has the power of flight. Her adoptive sister Alex is Earth aligned, solid and steady.

When Kara meets Lena, she immediately sees Lena's kindness beneath her sadness. They quickly become friends, once Lena allows her in. Kara wants to be around Lena all the time, and Lena allows her to be. Through their friendship, Lena starts to relax and come into her own.

Over time, it's revealed that Lena isn't as powerless as her family believes-- she's attuned to water. Between the trauma of her mother drowning and the ire of her adoptive family, her power had been dammed up and hidden away, forgotten even by their user. Until Lena finds herself through the help of her new found family.

In the final confrontation with her brother, Lena calmly looks at Lex with a quiet confidence.

"You've fallen prey to your own hubris," she says. "Blinded by your power and your ambition."

"So you've found your own paltry amount of ability," Lex snarls back. "But it'll evaporate just like all water does when it meets a wall of fire."

But Lena isn't swayed. "When water is out of balance, it can certainly fizzle into nothing."

There's a low rumble as the shore shakes around them.

"But when it gains strength...."

A wall of water builds behind her, towering and poised to surge down over them both.

"Water quenches flame."

[shadowkoo]

disgraceful dreams - teaser

→ Summary: After two years of lustful pining and disgraceful dreams about someone far out of your reach, you decide the only way to move past your hopeless crush on Onyx Academy's star student is by taking part in the Lupercalia festival for the very first time.

↠ wooyoung x f.reader (feat. yeosang) | teaser wc: 491 (16.4k~ total) | 18+ ↠ genre: witch/warlock au, smut, virgin!reader, inspired by s2e3 of caos, slowburn

→ Full Fic Warnings: little bit of social class discrimination, cult-ish behavior (mentions of blood, Y/N uses a knife to cut her hand for binding/ritual purposes), being ‘hunted’ like prey, explicit sex, unprotected sex, rough sex, pet names, praise kink, biting, nipple play, breast play, begging, fingering, mutual masturbation, oral (female and male receiving), exhibitionism, voyeurism, partial agoraphilia & semi-public sex, dirty talk, heavy teasing, spanking, multiple orgasms, grinding, deep dicking, size kink (wooyoung is HUNGGG), magical sex, fucking up against a tree, slight age gap (y/n is 20 and wooyoung is 25), slight corruption, choking, possessive!wooyoung, woo is ravenous for you (you’re welcome)

→ Networks: tagged below

@ksmutsociety @k-vanity @pirateeznet @cromernet

@illusionnet @othersideoutlawsnetwork @cultofdionysusnet

→ Release Date: 10/31/24

↠ want to be notified when this is posted? join my taglist here!

Under the safety of your blankets, you move quietly, as if any sudden movement could betray your secret. One hand begins to massage your breasts through your thin tank top, the other sliding down toward your pink panties.

Taking a deep breath, you open your legs, allowing your fingers to slip beneath the dampening fabric. After spreading your juices around, you rub your clit before slowly dipping your first finger into your slick entrance. The sensation is unfamiliar—neither bad nor uncomfortable, just something you're not used to. The pain of the stretch lingers, leaving a strange warmth that you can't quite place.

You close your eyes and pretend that Wooyoung is there with you. Swiftly, you begin to curl your fingers, simultaneously bucking into your hand. You picture him hovering over you, but the image clouds over, shifting into a different scene that becomes sharper.

Wooyoung is also in bed, with his hand wrapped around his exposed, thick cock, lazily pumping it. There’s something unsettlingly vivid about this image, as if it’s not just a product of your imagination. It feels real—too real. Gasping, you realize that he’s in your head, projecting himself, revealing his presence in a way that makes your heart race.

Then, as if he can sense that you've finally caught on to his wicked scheme, a dark smile tugs at the corner of his lips, the kind that makes your body’s temperature spike. “Are you touching yourself, like I asked you to?”

You suck in a sharp breath and nod instinctively, even though you know he can’t physically see you. But somehow, you sense that he knows.

“I bet you are,” he hums, closing his eyes while running his thumb over his pink head. He tosses his head back as he strokes himself, “I bet that tight little virgin cunt of yours needs some good stretching before she’s ready for me.”

Feeling the heat rising to the tips of your ears, they’re red from the weight of his words, like they’re wrapping themselves around you, pulling you deeper into his influence. The knot in your lower belly grows as you match your little finger thrusts to the speed of his hand pumps.

“Add another finger, honey, I know you can,” Wooyoung groans, his hand moving a little faster. “Look at how my cock aches to be sunk inside your sweet folds.”

You do as he commands. You’re panting at this point; completely zeroed in on his throbbing length while you climb towards bliss. The silent room fills with a sinful pattern of squelches from each thrust into your lush heat, and a divine sensation washes over you.

“Goddess, I’m about to make a mess,” he whines, a sound that you’ll never be able to forget. He stills, letting out another beautiful noise while his seed shoots out across his abs, some even on his dark silk sheets.

“That’s just a preview,” he grins devilishly, “Sleep well, Y/N.”

→ Taglist: @gyupremacy @yoonguurt @starsrens (join my taglist here!)

©shadowkoo 2024. All rights reserved.

[thecoffeelorian]

Anomaly (Jod Na X Reader)

A/N: I typed this out in the span of a morning on my phone, and then worked my way up from there. Anyways, to business...

Title: Anomaly

Chapter Title: The Stowaway

Genre: Drama/Romance

Word Count: 1,077 words

AO3: Click Here!

Special Notes: I have zero idea if Jod is going to be either the pirate I think he is or the ex-Jedi that others believe him to be...however, if none of these turn out to be true, then I'll just mark this as an AU and keep on trucking along. 'Nuff said!

No Pressure Tags: @ladysongmaster @braveincafleet @ireadwithmyears and anyone else who might want to catch the first-ever Jod Na x Reader story in this fandom! Thank you for your consideration!

ANOMALY

This doesn’t feel like the Great Work to me, you think to yourself, glancing around in silence as the Reclamation Committee gathers at At Attin’s first, and probably last, official spaceport. Originally, you would be deep into your latest pile of holo-work in the Undersecretary’s office, a half-drank cup of caf on your right and the few images of your surviving relatives sitting still upon your left.

Thanks to the curiosity of a handful of local children, however…everyone’s daily routine, yours included, has since been upended be it for better or for worse. In fact, the tension’s visible on everyone’s face as they await the incoming ship, and most likely for good reason—the ones said to be on board, at least in theory, are going to have a lot of explaining to do.

As for you, you’ve got both eyes upon your datapad screen like the good little Intern you are, making as many mental notes as possible while you wait. So far, according to the reports—or, at least, the official documents that you had been granted access to—all four of the missing children had been found safe; they had then been directed onto a secure flight back home; and, once the growing blur of that same flight could be seen from the platform and the volume of all human conversation around you grew alongside it, they would certainly be participating in a very long debriefing once those docking bay doors finally opened.

And yet...everything that you hadn’t been informed about becomes, as soon as the one known as Neel is the first to step off, pretty sparkling clear once the security droids all aim their weapons at the back of the ship.

“No, wait! Don’t hurt him, he’s a friend!”

To your surprise, if not also the surprise of everyone else around you, there was a fifth person on board. This person must have been halfway decent enough to keep this little group under their watchful eye, for the remaining kids still on the ship—Fern, Wim, and KB respectively—all add their voices to Neel’s protest as they’re coaxed onto the platform, Wim going so far as to try and pull the blaster out of a droid’s hands before a short pop of static electricity teaches him differently.

And, once those same droids give the order for them to come out with their hands up…your first sight of that fifth person all but takes your breath away.

Oh. Dear. Me.

Yes, there’s a man hiding back there, not some Wookiee in a fit of rage…but he’s not just any man as the ones among you already have been. No, this one has the equal look of both predator and prey written into his body language, for the look he gives the security team is nearly an even mix of one about to shoot down several live targets and one about to run for cover, almost like he's known both such situations in the course of his life...but isn't about to breathe a word of it.

To your growing sense of alarm, he’s also far too damned attractive for his own good, let alone yours. Sure, there are the signs of middle age upon him, why would there not be—and yet, other than the visible age lines upon his face, the stiffness in his steps, and the traces of silver within his hair, you just couldn’t stop yourself from running a visual scan of everything else he’d brought down to the surface. Things like...the hard set of his shoulders, the sharp outline of his jaw, and—worst of all—those startling blue eyes that you swore saw everything ahead, behind, and every other direction around him in a matter of seconds. Eyes that could see right through you if you’re foolish enough to let them, though you can only hope you never fall for any piece of this stranger’s charm, direct or otherwise.

And if that alone hadn’t somehow warned you in advance not to look too long, not to examine him too closely, and above all else, not to allow yourself to care too much about what might happen to this mysterious stranger…the reaction of the head droid would finally drive it all home.

”Jod Na Nawood, also known as ‘Crimson Jack’, also known as 'Captain Silvo', in the name of the Republic, you are hereby under arrest…”

Crimson Jack…? Captain Silvo? Him?! That one was the 'Thief Of A Thousand Treasures'?

You’d heard of a few stories about that scary figure, but that was all they were supposed to be. Stories. Legends. Tales one told to their children in order to get them to behave at the dinner table, and not real people of flesh, blood, and bone, because there were supposed to be no such thing.

Especially not away from the pages of a holobook, let alone outside of any datapad video feeds.

And yet…as this infamous Crimson Jack finally allowed the binders to be snapped around his wrists, one sad look sent towards the children before being taken into custody, it was here that you had to start asking yourself whether or not some of these stories were, in truth, full of facts as solid as durasteel—and if so, whether this stranger was truly as dangerous as the stories whispered in the dark made him out to be.

It would also be about a few seconds later that those startling blue eyes would just happen to meet yours, an even stranger feeling of both warmth and cool air pass between you like the rush of a long-dormant hyperdrive slowly working itself back up to full power and, finally, a phantom set of words echoing within your mind just as surely as if he had spoken them aloud.

I see you.

Several minutes would pass by until you snapped yourself out of your stunned silence and came back to reality, a few familiar faces around you making sure you were all right, that no tricks or funny business or strange arcane rituals had taken your mind over where you stood—and yet, for all of that, there was only one thought left in you, only one question that made sense—and so, even though this man was no longer in your sight, still you asked it out loud for everyone else to hear.

“And if I were to get inside your head, Mister ‘Crimson Jack’...what would I see?”

[yuri-is-online]

Fyuuture Kid AU is actually my favorite au of yours; I just think it's cute! How's floyd Yutu? I feel like there would be a thin line between "You're cool ig" and "You and shrimp are a little... close. Stop it." But once he knows that's his kid? Yeah all bets are of. Sorry Azul; he actually CANT go to work today he's too busy being a FATHER and a HUSBAND (these single fucks can cry about it)

No because this is exactly what I see happening and just the image of Floyd being like "nah I can't hang out spouse needs my help with the kid. Oh you wouldn't get it because YOU GOT NO BITCHES" he's just so silly I love him so much (つ╥﹏╥)つ

notes: they/them used for Yuu, this is part of the fyuuture kid au, Floyd's part can be found here, and the explanation for the au can be found here. You can find even more stuff for it on my masterlist under the series section.

Yutu wasn't really prepared for the first people he saw to be his parents. He knew he was going to have to see them eventually, and he did a lot of preparing mentally for seeing Yuu again but his dad? His father who he has heard so many stories about, the person he admires second only to you?

"And who's this little guppy?" The whites of Floyd's eyes widen as he zeros in on him, Yutu's senses force him to drop into a defensive stance and get in between the danger and Yuu. He's being circled by a larger, more dangerous predator. Every nerve ending in his body is screaming he is in danger, that Yuu's in danger, but he feels happy. He knows what his father's voice sounds like now.

"I ain't a guppy." The points of his teeth flash, but Floyd isn't amused by Yutu's claim.

"You are what I say you are, small fry."

Floyd! Yutu is very extroverted. He enjoys talking to people and had a lot of friends before and after being isekaid. If Yuu or one of his friends was more introverted he took a great deal of pride in doing most of the talking for them. He likes being helpful, or at least he says he does. If you've seen those videos of morays who act like puppies around divers they've known for years, that's sort of how Yutu acts. He's a big puppy who pretends not to know his own strength. Unless your his parent, he fears no man, but Yuu's wrath? That scares him.

He's similar to Floyd in school performance, he doesn't like to pay attention so he doesn't always do well. He didn't have a choice about paying attention to magic classes though, among all the different versions of Yutu, Floyd! Yutu might be one of the most cracked when it comes to combat magic. If you were to ask him about it, he'd say he sees his skill as another way of being helpful, but that prey drive is no joke he does like a good fight. Just not when that fight is against his dad...

He has always loved the water, whether he was swimming or out playing in the rain he always felt most at home in the water. In your world he was on his school's swim team, and while Yutu gets why he isn't allowed to be on NRC's he is still a bit salty about it. On the one hand he gets to actually live in the water now. On the other he sort of needs to find a hobby.

Maybe he could focus more on cooking? Or fishing? Or would that just be hunting under the sea...

The oceans of Twisted Wonderland were never safe, but in the time that Yutu arrived in they had become borderline unlivable due to blot pollution. Yutu really loved being in Octavinelle for allowing him to experience a little slice of what the Coral Sea was supposed to have been like. The version of the dorm he was placed in didn't have the lounge anymore, so he is very curious about Azul's business.

Papa (Floyd) Leech isn't very impressed. On the one hand he thinks it is kind of funny watching the shrimplet run around campus following Yuu like he's convinced they're going to disappear. Floyd feels like that sometimes too, it makes him want to drown you in his embrace and keep you here forever but he tries to ignore those feelings most of the time.

On the other hand knowing he can't just drop by Ramshackle and have you all to himself anymore makes it really hard to ignore them. Shrimplet doesn't even have the sense to be afraid of him, Floyd swears he gets excited when he threatens to give him a squeeze. And what's worse is you are really protective of him! Sure you're protective of Baby Seal too, but he's got enough sense to piss off when Floyd glares at him. He does leave when Floyd threatens to fight him, but not because he's scared. He looked sad actually, which Floyd clocks and brings back to Jade and Azul.

You asked another question about what happened to the boys in the bad future, and I want to save most of my thoughts related to what happened to Floyd for that answer, but Jade was still alive when Yutu got isekaid and he was able to meet him. They had a really good relationship, so when Jade comes sniffing around for information, Yutu is able to dodge his questions pretty easily. Future! Jade actually used his signature spell on him before he traveled back in time just to fuck with his past self. He did make his nephew promise to tell him if the one use rule applied to this case. Partially for science, partially because he knew that it would give his younger self the chance to keep the information to himself.

And keep it to himself he does- sort of. He makes sure Yutu knows he knows, but he never explicitly says anything to him. No what he wants to do is distract Yutu so Floyd can be a sulky coward in peace. That he does make clear to Yutu, he would like his brother to have more than one kid for him to be a bad influence on and he needs him to actually make a move on Yuu for that to happen.

I am not 100% on how the reveal on how Floyd learns about what's happening and who Yutu is, but once he does he is very serious about it. He wants to know what Yutu thought about him, why he knows more about Jade then his dear old dad, and what happened to Yuu to make him so protective. Wasn't he there at all? He'd never abandon his mate or his son... little shrimplet knows that, right?

Well he's just going to have to make sure he does know that. And everyone else too, "these single fucks can cry about it" indeed. Yutu is getting dragged to the Atlantica Memorial Museum so they can swim and talk about Azul's overblot, and how cute his parent was for standing up to him. He still wants to spend time alone with Yuu sometimes, but he gets why Yutu is afraid of letting them out of his sight now. He would feel the same way. If Floyd can manage it he wants to take him back home too (not to introduce him to the grandparents since that would just raise questions), since Yutu never got to go there.

Floyd would be such a good dad. An embarrassing one too, you know he teases Yutu, roughhouses with him, and openly flirts with Yuu in front of him. He's really looking forward to getting to be embarrassingly in love with Yuu in the future, and no silly "end of the world" thing is going to stop him.

[finleycannotdraw]

okay so.

Hell's Lust Room.

something about it is making me insane.

something about edwin wearing white clothes, not even stained with his own blood anymore, entering that room and being groped and dragged down, and then shouting for charles to help him.

something about how edwin died in edwardian england, sacrificed to hell because of queerness in some form (simon's internalized homophobia + "mary ann" being a derogatory term for gay men in that time), having zero positive relationships in regards to his sexuality. he had his sexual awakening when the cat king decided to prey on that aspect of him for his punishment, and then later tells monty that he'd thought "those feelings were never to be spoken of."

something about queer sexuality being shamed and silenced so much, we hurt ourselves with it. edwin not fully believing what he says to simon, because simon is able to move on with that forgiveness and edwin gets, once again, dragged to the ground in the lust room. instead of fully realizing that being queer in itself isn't wrong or disgusting, i think that his talk with simon is edwin becoming aware of his own shame and guilt and self-punishment, but he still hasn't entirely let go of it, and i argue this because of—you guessed it—the lust room.

something about edwin growing up being told that sexuality, especially homosexuality, is disgusting and never to be talked about. something about him then having these awakenings and realizations about himself and his feelings for his best friend, which relate specifically and intrinsically to sexuality. and almost immediately after having the realizations that his sexuality is real, he is attracted to men, and he is attracted to his best friend (and the subliminal guilt that entails), he is faced with a viscerally horrifying room full of blood and gore and sex.

something about edwin, wearing all white, being grabbed by the mass of bloody hands. during this scene, he isn't even covered in his own blood anymore. the only blood on him now is what is smeared onto him by the writhing, mindless souls being punished for their desires. what is he supposed to think? in this scene, he becomes literally stained by sexuality, expressed in an animalistic manner. charles doesn't get pulled so roughly into the mess, because edwin is the only one still actively processing the very concept of sexuality, and he hasn't entirely unlearned what he was taught about his own sexuality.

something about edwin's sexuality—not necessarily his homosexuality, just his sexuality—constantly being used to manipulate him. the cat king gets into his head by confronting him with physical attraction. monty very innocently flirts with him, then kisses him, and then leads him into a trap. simon killing him because he had feelings for edwin and didn't know how to handle them. edwin's sexuality has only ever been used against him, and during every single instance, other people have been hurt. knowing this, is it really wrong to assume that a small part of edwin probably saw the horror in that room and thought 'i belong here too'??

AND HE REACHES FOR CHARLES. who drags him out of that gory orgy (...gorgy??) (well. move the G to the front of orgy and you have gory. do with that what you will.) without a second thought. edwin loves charles, and is attracted to charles, and charles has never judged him or shamed him for that. so charles is the only person who could've possibly pulled edwin free.

[sinsmockingbird]

How do you think Chelsea, Cabernet, Eirene and Oak Casket would react to their s/o buying xl sized condoms while shopping with them?

Ohohoho, I think they'd all have different reactions but that end in the same way- with you both in bed.

CW: Smut under the cut

✧ CHELSEA

• Immediately wants to grab you and spin you around to face her, only to tug your pants and underwear down to see if you are actually that huge to have to use XL sized condoms.

• Of course she controls herself and holds back considering you are in a store, but you better know her eyes are zeroed in on the bulge in your pants, finally coming to the realization that you must be massive with a bulge like that.

• Chelsea will eventually start to become touchy, moving to feel you up in subtle and non subtle ways. All until she bends down to the lowest shelf, grinding her ass into your crotch till you quickly decide to finish up and pay for everything.

• As soon as you guys are home, Chelsea has you stripped naked and is grinding against your cock, watching in amazement at how big it gets. She's soaking not only through her panties but her pants as well as she imagines putting one of those condoms to use right away.

✧ CABERNET

• Literally salivating as soon as she sees you reach over for the XL sized condoms. Seeing you lazily toss them into the cart while continuing to browse, leaving her eyeing you up like a predator does to their prey.

• She'll stalk up besides you, brushing her lips against your ear while passing by, leaving you flustered at the words she uttered; "Oh I'm going to have a feast with you tonight."

• She'd saunter ahead of you, giving more sway to her hips, letting you stare red faced and slack jawed as you simply freeze, eyes only staring at her gorgeous ass which her dress accentuates beautifully.

• You better be prepared for Cabernet to be absolutely sucking the soul out of you through your cock as soon as you get home. She's going to be worshipping it like it's her deity from now on.

✧ OAK CASKET

✧ EIRENE

• Her cool demeanor is gone in a second as soon as she sees you reaching for the XL sized condoms. Her face turning into a tomato as she realizes what that's implying.

• When you look back at her, she's turned on her heel and rushing away from you to another aisle, her hand covering her red face as she needs to take a moment to compose herself.

• When you find her and ask what's wrong, she'll be tugging you into a kiss, muttering, "I want you so bad," before telling you to grab what you need and meet her out at the car in 10 minutes.

• After scrambling to grab stuff, and stumbling to the car, Eirene can't even wait to get home to keep her hands off you, and she'll be dropping her head down to sloppily lick and suck on your cock.

• Oh the smirk that crosses her face when she sees you reaching for the XL sized condoms perfectly shows how hungry she is to see if your cock actually stands up to the size.

• She's giving you that smirk when you look at her, her eyes teasing and also perfectly showcasing what she was feeling and what she wanted your cock to do to her body when you get home.

• And the way her voice becomes lower and sultry, your knees are weak and your bulge has grown significantly bigger.

• Perhaps Oak will just have to drag you to the stores bathroom and help you with your little- or rather large- problem before you two even attempt at going home.