#but please stop being a jerk to the people who barely made it through the night trying to keep everyone alive

[doctorspork]

giving postcall signout on trauma and we had some...interesting recommendations from some consultants overnight but the new attending coming onto our team starting today kept aggressively asking "does that make sense??" and I'm like no dude but I'm not a neurosurgeon, I'm telling you what they said after many many conversations, I may disagree with their plan but I'm certainly not drilling into anyone's skull myself so idk what you want me to do about it

[kingkatsuki]

— my protector

Tengen needs your help in trying to locate his wives on a mission, and Sanemi is furious.

Get me a man who’s only soft for us, stat😫😭

Pairing: Shinazugawa Sanemi x f!reader.

Warnings: 18+, established relationship, reader is a fellow hashira, jealous Sanemi (for literally no reason), possessiveness, rough sex, slight degradation, fingering, multiple orgasms, breeding, creampie.

Word Count: 4.2k.

All Sanemi could see was red, fiery red as he roamed the halls of the Butterfly Mansion, ignoring the pain in his right arm from the wound Aoi had just patched up moments earlier.

“Shinobu will kill you if she finds you drawing your sword in here!” Aoi called after him, but Sanemi could care less as his eyes sought out the Sound Pillar.

He had just returned from a three-week-long mission to find out that Uzui had enlisted you for help on one of his missions. Practically offering you up as bait to try and find his wives who had gone missing, like that was even your problem. And Sanemi knew you were always so eager and willing to help, it was something he loved and loathed about you at the same time.

The rage continued building inside him as he pulled open another sliding door aggressively, the wood gliding back from the force as he skimmed another empty room before continuing further through the mansion.

“Listen to me, Shinazugawa.” Aoi huffed, followed after him as one of the only people inside the mansion who weren’t scared of the white-haired man, “I told you Shinobu won’t be pleased to find out you’re breaking all her doors.”

“Fuck her,” Sanemi rolled his eyes, “Where’s Uzui?”

“If you would’ve actually stopped for five minutes to let me explain, instead of being such a jerk,” Aoi crossed her arms over her chest with a huff, “He left with her a few hours ago. Said it couldn’t wait much longer, that his wives may be in danger—”

“How the fuck is that her problem?” Sanemi growled, “So he isn't here?”

“No, but I would advise you don't follow him. Your wounds—” Sanemi ignored Aoi, already halfway down the hall as he marched towards the entrance, determined to find you on his own. It was when he stepped into the courtyard that he saw Uzui coming in by the front gate with a wide smile on his face.

“Ah, my crow told me you were back!” Uzui made to step towards him to finish the conversation, but Sanemi’s sword was already drawn as he stepped towards the larger man, “Perfect timing, my friend!”

“You fucking left her there?” Sanemi barked, “Why are you back here?”

“I came to get you at the request of your lady love,” Uzui grinned as Sanemi curled his lip in irritation at the pet name, “She made me promise to tell you as soon as you got back from your mission because she wouldn’t be around. And I thought you'd prefer a personal greeting.”

“Why the fuck are you sending her on your missions anyway,” Sanemi continued, ignoring Uzui's grin, “And leaving her there!”

“It hasn’t even been twelve hours,” Uzui shrugged, standing in place even as Sanemi stepped towards him.

“That’s already twelve hours too damn long, you prick.” Sanemi drew his sword as he made to lunge towards his fellow hashira.

“She’s probably safer there than she’d ever be out in the field,” Uzui dodged a blow with the hilt of his sword, the guard barely protecting his hands as he used his body weight to push the Wind Pillar back.

“Probably?” Sanemi roared, “She’s probably got sick fucks like you all over her right now.”

“Oh,” Uzui’s lips curled into a cocky smirk at the admission, standing upright as he pushed some fallen hair away from his eyes, “So that’s it— you’re jealous.”

“I ain’t jealous, you fuckwad.” Sanemi grunted as he attempted another slash towards Uzui, knowing it was serious when the wind user hadn’t even bothered to use his power.

“Sure seems like it,” Uzui scoffed, taking another step back to avoid his attack, “Nothing is stopping you from visiting her, you know. She’s only a few towns across and I'm here to take you right to her.”

“Oh, you’re taking me to her,” Sanemi spat, “Right fucking now.”

“Someone is asking for me?” You raised a brow suspiciously at the implication. Wondering if this meant the demons had realised that you were in fact a slayer intent on taking their head. Your stomach swirled in trepidation as you tried not to show any fear, smiling at the young girl by the door as you bowed your head.

“Yeah, and frankly I’m glad,” She clung to the belt of her kimono, “He looks scary!”

“I definitely don’t want to spend the night with him,” Another girl grimaced, “I don’t think I’d make it out alive.”

You frowned, worried that you wouldn’t have time to access your katana to holster it beneath your kimono. Instead, all you had was the small dagger strapped against your thigh, which you were certain wouldn’t be enough to protect you from the attack of a demon. But at least it was better than nothing, knowing he wouldn’t attack until you were at least secure back inside this room as you bowed your head. Following her down the stairs to the entrance of the establishment, feeling a cool breeze tickle your ankles from the open door and curtain flowing in the wind.

Your heart stilled when you noticed the familiar man standing by the entrance, glaring at anyone who dared look his way as you felt your chest swell with familiarity. You hadn’t expected to see him here this night, and you certainly hadn’t expected him to be asking after you.

“Is this the girl you were asking after, my Lord?”

“Yes,” He grunted as the Madame motioned him to step forward and follow you back to your room.

You had to stop yourself jumping him in the foyer, wanting nothing more than to wrap your arms around him and cling to his broad shoulders.

Feeling the heat practically radiating from his body as you slid open the sliding door to your room, stepping to the side to allow Sanemi to follow before sliding it shut. And in an instant, his rough hands were grabbing hold of the fat at your hips to pull your body against his, your lips meeting in a bruising kiss.

Your hands reached up to thread through his messy hair as the scent of the woods mixed with his natural sweat invaded your senses. He clearly hadn’t bothered to bathe when he returned from his mission, far more concerned with finding you.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” He spoke against your lips when you finally pulled away for air, still holding onto you as your nails dragged against his scalp, “I had to come home to find out you’re helping Uzui?”

“Tengen needed my help,” You murmured, and Sanemi’s nose scrunched in irritation at the use of the Sound Pillars' first name.

“Tengen,” He mocked the pitch of your voice, “Has three fucking wives that can help him, I only have one.”

“Technically,” You parroted his tone, giving him a cocky smirk as you felt his fingers press into the skin at your hips, “I’m not even your wife.”

“You’re as good as,” Sanemi scoffed as he stole another kiss, “And Uzui would do well to remember it.”

“His wives are missing,” You mumbled sadly.

“So does that mean he’s looking for a fourth?” Sanemi frowned at you as you couldn’t help but smile and shake your head at his jealousy.

“No,” You lowered your voice to a whisper, “He hasn’t heard from them for a few days, the letters have stopped coming— and he thinks something bad may have happened to them.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Sanemi couldn’t lie that it had hurt to find out from someone else that you wouldn’t be there upon his return, whether it was jealousy or the fear of losing you he was unsure. But either way, it left him with that familiar sense of dread that pooled in the pit of his stomach and threatened to boil over.

“I’m sorry, but there wasn’t much time,” You did wish you’d sent your crow to warn him, but Uzui had promised you that he would let Sanemi know. Especially since you were doing this for the sake of his wives, “He needed my help, so I offered.”

“You’re far too nice.” Sanemi shook his head, using his grip on your hips to pull you into another sultry kiss.

“I thought that’s why you loved me.” You teased.

“No,” Sanemi scoffed, “I love you for your perfect ass,” He spanked your cheek for emphasis, “Everything else is either a bonus or a crux on my life.”

“You pig.” You scrunched your nose as Sanemi couldn’t stop himself from stealing another kiss.

“I’m kidding, sweetheart,” Sanemi’s eyes softened as he reached up to cup your face in a calloused palm. His thumb stroking gentle circles against your cheek as you leaned into his touch, “But you really should stop putting yourself in harm's way.”

“I’m a hashira,” You replied simply, “It’s what we do to protect others.”

“Protecting others doesn’t mean becoming a whore.” He spat, although you knew there was no malice there. The harsh tone covered up the fear and dread he felt in your gut at the prospect of something happening to you.

“And yet here you are, at the whorehouse requesting me by name.” You smiled back, relishing in the pink hue that dusted his pale cheeks.

“I just don’t want to lose you,” His tone sobered, resting his forehead against your own as he stared down into your eyes, “What a pitiful existence it would be.”

“You won’t lose me, Sanemi.” You wrapped your arms around his waist to pull his body against you, feeling his semi-hard cock press against your hip. The time without you made even more conspicuous when he's now surrounded by the comforting scent of you again.

“Did anyone touch you?” He immediately pulled back, concern evident in his features as he looked you over.

“No, I’ve been fine,” You shook your head, “They’ve mainly had me sitting down for tea with travellers passing through.”

“Good,” He pressed a kiss against your forehead in relief as he exhaled softly, “You have no idea how much I missed you, sweet girl.”

He peppered kisses along the curve of your jaw as you tilted your head back to give him more room. Your hands smoothed along his collarbones before dipping lower to trace patterns against the marred skin that scarred his chest, pressing your fingers into the ridges as you felt the tacky sweat clinging to his skin.

“I missed you too,” You whimpered gently as his teeth found your pulse point, biting down on the sensitive skin as his tongue lashed against it.

Sanemi bullied his muscular thigh between your parted legs to keep you steady against the wall as he shamelessly fiddled with the belt of your kimono. Letting the fabric fall open as he drank in the sight of your bare skin beneath, his firm hands immediately paw at your bare sides. Noticing the small dagger that you had holstered against one of your thighs as he ran his fingers over the handle of it in satisfaction.

“That’s my girl.” He murmurs, “Not planning to use that on me are you?”

He teased, pushing it back into the holster as he moved his hands back up the curve of your hips towards your chest. Truth be told, he was relieved that you had some form of protection in here. Especially when there was the chance that a demon was responsible for the spate of missing persons in the area.

“It depends if you’re nice to me or not,” You mused.

“I’m always nice.” The words coming from Sanemi’s lips alone were enough to have a melodic laugh rumbling in your chest, as for most, Sanemi and nice were complete contradictions.

“Liar,” Throwing your head back in a pretty laugh that had Sanemi’s heart rattling against his rib cage.

“I mean, I’m always nice to you, aren’t I?” Sanemi’s thumbs stroked the underside of your breasts as he delighted in the way your body responded to him, curving your back towards him as your bare cunt pressed against the flat of his thigh.

“We shouldn’t,” You murmured, “Not here—”

“Let me have this, sweetheart,” He hummed, leaning down to capture one of your pebbled nipples between his lips as he sucked hard, “I am a paying customer, after all.”

In fact, he was going to get that money from Uzui for his pure subordination.

“Why pay for something you can get for free at home?” You teased as he afforded your other breast the same attention, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin as you let out another airy moan.

“My girl wasn’t there when I arrived home, and I had heard the girls here were beautiful,” He played along, “Apparently there’s one with the best fuckin’ pussy.”

“Oh yeah?” You gasped as you felt his fingers press against the indents of your thighs, dangerously close to your labia as you bucked against his leg. Giving your clit some slight relief as Sanemi continued forward, his thumb brushing through the wet slick that coated your folds as it drooled out of your neglected hole.

“Yeah,” He repeated, pulling away from your breast with a pop as he found your clit. Pressing sloppy circles against it with the calloused pad of his thumb as he watched you shamelessly grind yourself into his touch, “Apparently she’s already fucked into the shape of another guy though.”

“Must be a lucky guy,” Your eyes rolled back, knocking your head against the wall when you felt two of his thick digits slip inside your tight hole with ease. Scissoring them to loosen you up as he pulled back to watch you inquisitively through half-lidded eyes.

“The fuckin’ luckiest.” Sanemi grinned as he felt your walls throb around his fingers. He deliberately curled them towards the spongy spot inside you that he knew would have you seeing stars as he began to focus each roll of his wrist against it.

His name continued to spill from your lips as he kept his movements poised and focused, his rough thumb kneading circles against your clit as he worked you towards your release. No one knew your body better than he did, and he knew after being pent up for so long how little effort it would take to have you dangling on the edge of your release.

“Fuck, Sanemi.” You moaned, already feeling yourself dangerously close to falling, “I’m gonna cum.”

“Then cum.” He spoke as though it was the most obvious thing in the world, and his blase tone immediately had your cunt clenching around him as you swan dived directly into your bliss. The pleasure surged through your body hard and fast as you came undone, his darkened eyes focused on your movements a he kept his fingers pressed against that same velvety spot. Following the wave of your hips as you rode out your release, unrelenting against the sensitive area as he already had you hurtling towards a second.

It was too much, and not enough at the same time. Your pliant walls throbbed around his slick digits as you wished for something more, something bigger.

“‘Nemi, fuck me please.” You whined pitifully.

“Such a filthy mouth on such a pretty girl,” He teased, but he pulled his fingers away from your sopping heat, lifting them up to the light to spread them as you noticed the silvery webs of your release clinging to them as he pushed them between your lips to taste yourself.

You tried to speak, but the pads of his fingers against your tongue muffled the words as you cleaned them off. His lips curled into a satisfied smile as he pulled them out of your mouth, dragging your glossy bottom lip down in the process as both hands immediately reached for his belt.

“When we get home I am fucking you like you deserve.” Sanemi spoke coolly, “Not some quick fuck in a whorehouse.”

“I deserve everything you give me, 'Nemi.” You smile up at him lazily before watching him tug his pants down, revealing his fat cock to your prying gaze.

You immediately reached for it, and he let you. Hissing when your smaller palm wrapped around the girth of him, giving him a teasing jerk that had his nostrils flaring and his jaw locking. Your thumb swipes over the swollen tip to gather the pearl of pre before smoothing it down his length, delighting in the choked grunt that rumbled at the back of his throat.

“Is that so?” He continued, “So bending you over the moment I get you home will be deserved,” His voice darkened, his own palm joining yours against his length as he tightened your grip on his cock, holding your hand steady as he fucked himself into your fist, “You tease.”

“Fuck,” Your cunt throbbed around nothing at his suggestion, as you instinctively spread your legs further apart, “Please, 'Nemi.”

Sanemi curled a palm beneath your thigh to hoist it up against his hip, spreading you open for him as you guided the leaky tip of his cock between you. Stroking it against your drenched folds as you coated him with your essence, moaning when the swollen tip nudged your puffy clit. Feeling yourself growing more impatient as Sanemi pulled his hips back to tease you, pushing your hand away from his cock as he wrapped himself in a fist. Pressing the head against your tight entrance as he felt your hole tremble against him, trying desperately to coax him in as he indulged himself with your reaction.

“‘Nemi, don’t be an asshole,” You pouted as you tried to can’t your hips forward, feeling the tip breach your entrance before he was quick to move his hips back. More than content with teasing you, despite being in such an open, compromising place.

“If I were an asshole I’d leave you unsatisfied like this to search for the demon myself,” He goaded, pressing his hips forward once more.

“Sanemi,” You whined in irritation, “Don’t tease me, please, it’s been too long.”

He didn’t give you a moment to think before he was bullying his cock inside your tight cunt. Your inner walls stretched to accommodate his girth as he moulded you to the shape of him once more, reminding you of exactly who you belonged to. The sensation stole the air from your lungs as you could do little but cling to his broad shoulders as he afforded you a moment to adjust to his size, dragging himself from your velvety walls before canting his hips forward again. Setting a languid motion as he slowly rolled his hips against you.

“Sanemi,” You sighed in satisfaction as you felt whole once more. Too many lonely nights were spent dreaming of this as you felt him finally bottom out, the coarse hairs at the base tickling your clit as you bit down on your bottom lip.

“We’re in a whorehouse,” He mused, still sluggishly rolling his hips into you, “It only seems right that I treat you like one.”

Your cunt clenched around his cock hard at the notion, something that didn’t go unnoticed by Sanemi who grinned in satisfaction. His fingers tighten their grip around your thigh as he takes this as his answer.

Sanemi is brutal as he fucks into you, not sparing you a moment's peace as he uses you for his own gratification. The sound of skin against skin echos the small room as his balls slap against the curve of your ass with each forward cant of his hips. The ferocity of his thrusts has your breasts bouncing and your thighs crying out for some relief as you struggle to stand upright, thankful that Sanemi’s strong body has you pinned against the wall as he fucks into you.

“Oh my god,” You cry out, nails digging into his skin as he maintains his pace. His other hand squeezes at the fat of your ass as he angles his hips, the curve of his cock drags against the spot inside you that he knows will have you seeing stars as the blunt tip kneads your cervix.

“Look at me.” Sanemi growls, his warm breath fanning your face as he keeps a consistent pace.

Your eyes meet his and you’re certain you’ll cum under the intensity of his gaze alone, your cunt clenches in retaliation as he continues to thrust into your sopping hole. Each sultry moan he pulls from deep in your chest has him rolling his hips with more vigour, eager to have you repeat them as he works you towards your climax.

It’s pitiful really, how easily he has you submitting to him as you already feel the telltale signs of your climax ebbing in your pelvis. The pressure builds up as it nears breaking point as Sanemi pushes into you with more ferocity, using your body for his own means as he works himself to his own release.

“I’m going to leave you pumped full of my seed,” He growls against your cheek, his chest heaving as he feels his balls begin to tighten, “Leave it drooling down your thighs when I’m finished with you. So that everyone knows who you belong to—”

You knew this was a direct attack on Uzui, and the fact that he’d handpicked you for his assistance on this mission. Even though there was nothing in it beyond securing the safety of his wives, it had Sanemi oozing with jealousy and he was intent on reminding the Sound Pillar that you were not his plaything.

“Do you also need a reminder of who you belong to, sweetheart?” Sanemi spoke lowly as he fucked into your pliant walls, slipping a hand between your connected bodies to press sloppy circles to your clit.

“No, ‘Nemi—” That familiar sensation throbbed between your thighs as you teetered on the cusp of your climax.

“No? Then who do you belong to?”

“You, ‘Nemi. You—” You choked out, leaving messy red lines against his chest now as he pressed harder against your clit.

“Louder.”

“You, ‘Nemi! It’s always been you!” You cry out, certain that the rest of the floor could hear you as you began to gush around his cock. Your hips bucked wildly as he pinned you in place, keeping his thumb firm against your clit as he watched you ride out your climax. Indulging in the debauched noises that escaped from between your pretty, bruised lips.

“Good girl,” He snarled before moving his hand from your clit to resume a damn near savage pace. Rutting hips against your own messily, working himself towards his own end as he felt the way your walls continued clenching around him in the aftershocks of your climax, “Such a good girl for me.”

He arched his back so he could look down at where your bodies were connected, watching the way his thick cock disappeared inside your velvety walls. And the creamy ring of slick that you’d left around the base of him, the silvery lines matting into his pubes as he felt his balls begin to seize. Certain he wouldn’t be able to last much longer before giving a few more sloppy thrusts and emptying his balls into your warm, wet cunt.

Sanemi stayed buried inside you, feeling the last spurts of his orgasm surge through him as he coated your walls in thick, white spunk. Cherishing the final few flutters of your walls around him as you both came down from your highs, peppering kisses against your face as you placed a palm against his chest to feel his racing heart, the dull thump of it soothing you as you felt your thick lashes begin to flutter.

“Don’t fall asleep, sweetheart.” Sanemi rasped, starting to pull himself out of your spent cunt as you whined in objection. Trying to tighten your thigh around him to keep his hips in position as he grinned down at you; pressing an apologetic kiss to the side of your lips before looking down to see the mess of your combined release stringing against his length as the silvery lines split apart, “I’m sorry, I’ve gotta.”

You knew he had to go, Uzui was probably still waiting for him on a rooftop somewhere. Hopeful that you’d have some news to share with Sanemi about the whereabouts of his wives, but you felt the regret begin to pool in the pit of your stomach as reality settled back in.

“If you want to leave with me, I’ll take you right now,” He said as though it was the most simple thing in the world, “But if you want to stay in I’ll be watching.”

You didn’t have to tell him your answer, he already knew. Placing a final, lingering kiss on your lips as he held you in his arms, “Nothing will ever happen to you as long as I’m around.”

[thesecondhandwoman]

(SPOILERS FOR ACT THREE)

THE ARCANE’S GRASP

Sevika x f!reader

Summary: In the chaos of Viktor’s arcane creations wreaking havoc, Sevika is overtaken by the glowing tendrils of Arcane’s magic, her body suspended in a terrifying trance. As she is consumed, you desperately fight to reach her, only to be ensnared by the arcane yourself.

The chaos erupted around you as Piltover, holding all people from Noxus to Zaun, transformed into a battlefield of terror and desperation. Viktor’s arcane creations surged like a tidal wave, tendrils of golden light snaking through the air, seizing anyone within reach. The sound of battle—screams, explosions, metal clanging against metal—was deafening, but it all faded when your eyes landed on Sevika.

She stood tall in the thick of it, her mechanical arm smashing through the glowing constructs, the harsh slams of her quick fists barely audible over the cacophony. But the arcane wasn’t just targeting the weak or slow. It moved like it had a mind of its own, and it was coming for her.

“Sevika!” you shouted, your voice raw with fear as the golden tendrils wrapped around her arm. She thrashed, grunting as she tried to rip them off, but more latched onto her forehead. Her eyes went wide before glazing over with that same golden glow, and you watched in horror as the markings began to appear beneath her eyes, crawling across her face like veins of molten light. Her limbs lifted, weightless, her body floating against her will as the arcane tightened its grip.

“No, no, no!” The words tore from your throat as you bolted toward her, your feet slipping on the rubble. She wasn’t just being attacked—she was being consumed. The Sevika you knew, the strong, brash woman who fought like she had nothing left to lose, was slipping away before your eyes.

“Get off her!” you screamed, desperate, reaching out for her even as she remained suspended in the air. Her lips parted like she was trying to speak, but the glow in her eyes drowned out any sign of recognition.

Before you could reach her, something cold and sharp wrapped around your own body: the arcane.

It latched onto your legs, snaking up your torso, and you clawed at it, panic surging through you. The tendrils burned where they touched, the heat radiating through your skin and into your veins. You thrashed, tears blurring your vision, but it was no use.

“Sevika!” you sobbed, your voice cracking as the arcane dragged you back. Your body jerked violently, limbs stiffening as the same glow began to overtake your vision. The last thing you saw was her face—her features slack and unfamiliar, consumed by something unnatural.

The world was eerily quiet when you woke. A pounding ache in your head made it hard to think, and your limbs felt heavy, like you’d been dragged through hell. Groaning, you pushed yourself up from the ground, blinking against the dim light.

The battlefield was littered with bodies—most of them stirring slowly, like you. The arcane had released them, its influence shattered when the last of Viktor’s constructs was destroyed. You didn’t know who or what had done it; you were too disoriented to care. All that mattered was Sevika.

Your head whipped around, searching frantically until your eyes found her. She was slumped on the ground nearby, her body half-buried in rubble. Her arm twitched faintly, but she wasn’t moving otherwise.

“Sevika!” you gasped, crawling over to her, your legs barely supporting your weight when you tried to stand. The closer you got, the clearer the damage became. The markings were still faintly visible on her skin, though the glow in her eyes had faded. She looked… broken.

You fell to your knees beside her, shaking her shoulder. “Sevika, wake up! Please, come on!”

Her head lolled to the side, and for a heart-stopping moment, you thought she wasn’t breathing. But then her chest rose, shallow but steady. Relief hit you like a freight train, and a sob escaped your throat.

“Don’t you dare,” you whispered, clutching her shirt as you pressed your forehead to hers. “Don’t you dare leave me, Sev. You promised.”

A low groan broke through the silence, and you pulled back to see her eyelids fluttering. When her eyes opened, they were the familiar steel-gray you loved, clouded with confusion and exhaustion.

“Doll..?” she rasped, her voice weak but alive.

You nodded, tears streaming down your face as you cupped her cheek. “I’m here. I’m right here.”

Her gaze softened for just a moment before her lips twisted into a faint smirk. “Thought… you weren’t gonna cry over me.”

You let out a watery laugh, your heart clenching as you held her close. “Shut up,” you murmured, burying your face in her neck. “I thought I lost you.”

Her hand, trembling but determined, reached up to rest against your back. “Not getting rid of me that easy,” she muttered, her voice steadying as the seconds passed.

Around you, the world began to stir, people rising from the rubble, groaning and coughing as they tried to make sense of what had happened. But in that moment, none of it mattered.

All that mattered was that she was still here.

Your heart continued to race as you held Sevika against you, her warmth grounding you, keeping you tethered to reality. The fight, the chaos, the fear—it all felt distant now despite only happening minutes ago.

Her presence was everything you needed in that moment.

Sevika’s fingers brushed through your hair, the touch gentle but steady, as if reminding herself you were still there, that you were both still standing. She let out a shaky breath, and you could feel her body slowly easing into the relief of no longer being controlled by the arcane.

“Hey,” you whispered, your voice soft but filled with an overwhelming tenderness. You lifted your face to look at her, brushing the damp strands of hair from her forehead, your fingers lingering there, touching the skin you almost thought you’d lost. “You’re okay, they are gone now. You’re safe.”

Sevika’s gaze flickered, her tired eyes studying your face with an unreadable expression. The intensity of what had happened still hung in the air, but there was a sense of calm in her that you couldn’t quite place. She pulled you closer, her breath warm against your cheek, and for a moment, it felt like the rest of the world had stopped, as if time itself had granted you both this fragile peace.

“How’s your head?” you asked out of the worry swarming in your head still, brushing your thumb over her temple, where the faintest remnants of the arcane markings still lingered.

“Feels like I got hit by a freight train,” she replied with a dry chuckle, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. She let out a slow breath, pulling you even closer. “But I’ll survive.”

You smiled softly, leaning in until your lips brushed against hers. The kiss was gentle at first, cautious, like you both needed to feel each other to reassure yourselves that this was real. That she was real. Her lips were warm, familiar—still soft despite everything that had happened. The taste of her lingered on your tongue, grounding you in the present.

Sevika pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, her eyes full of emotion you couldn’t quite decipher. You stroked her cheek, your heart aching for her in a way you couldn’t explain.

“God, y-you scared me so bad,” you murmured, your voice thick with unspoken fears. “I don’t… I don’t ever want to lose you, and this time it felt so close, I—.”

Her hand slid up to your neck, her fingers threading into your hair, and she tilted your face toward hers. This time, the kiss was deeper, more urgent. It was as if she was trying to remind herself that she was still here, still yours, despite everything that had almost torn you apart.

When you finally broke the kiss, she pressed her forehead to yours, her breathing ragged but calming. “I’m not going anywhere, doll,” she whispered, the words laced with promise.

You closed your eyes, inhaling deeply, your hands gripping her shoulders as if to keep her tethered to you. The sounds of the aftermath—the groans and shuffling from the others waking up—seemed to fade into the background. In this moment, it was just you and Sevika, and everything else could wait.

“I don’t care if the world’s falling apart,” you muttered against her lips, “as long as you’re with me.”

Sevika’s chuckle rumbled in her chest, low and almost teasing. “You’ve got a funny way of making the end of the world feel… bearable.”

You smiled, brushing your lips against hers once more before pulling back to gaze into her eyes. There was still a shadow of exhaustion lingering in them, but now there was something more—a quiet strength, something resilient.

She reached up to gently brush the tears from your face, her touch tender. “You’re crying again,” she murmured, though there was no teasing in her tone this time. Only affection.

“Only because I’m just so damn glad you’re here,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Sevika’s gaze softened, and for a moment, it felt like everything was right in the world. You were both alive, both here, and for once, the overwhelming weight of everything felt just a little lighter.

She sighed, pulling you back into her embrace. “Then stop crying,” she said softly, her lips brushing against your forehead. “because I don’t ever plan on leaving soon, especially with those fucking things finally gone.”

You nodded, curling into her, letting her warmth and the quiet assurance of her presence calm the storm that had been swirling inside you. You didn’t know what the future held, but in that moment, you had everything you needed.

And as the others around you began to recover, groaning and pulling themselves from the wreckage, you held onto Sevika, cherishing the simple truth that you’d survived the worst of it together.

[euno11a]

i just saw your post about reader who can’t make themselves cum and ugh i love it, especially because i feel like no one ever talks about or includes it. anyways i would love to hear your thoughts on reader who has a hard time cumming, especially during sex no matter how good it feels

I fell that it’s honestly really important to talk about it to let people know that they aren’t alone. And I’m so glad you liked it :)

It is scientifically proven that men can cum easier during sex than women. It’s mostly because women have complex bodies, what works for one person might not work for the other. So when figuring out your own body, it’s important to keep in mind that your body is unique compared to others.

this wasn’t the first time that you’d been sprawled out in bed with Simon pleasing you. He kissed up and down your body, caressed every inch of you, even stopped for a little to rest his head on your chest and make sure you were nice and relaxed. You two had been on this journey together for a little while now, trying to figure out what you like and how he can make his pretty cum. He had tried many things, using his tongue, light pressure on your clit, firmer pressure, no pressure and just stimulating your g-spot, stimulating your g-spot and your clit, adding nipple play to see if that made you more sensitive; but even if it felt good, your body wouldn’t let yourself go.

at first, Simon thought it was because he wasn’t good enough. That he just lost his touch and that he wasn’t doing enough for you. But when you comforted him and explained how you’d been like this since you could remember, it made him feel better and worse. Alright, he wasn’t a complete failure and could still make you cum…but why hasn’t he? Every time you two had sex or just did foreplay, he would make sure to take all the time in the world to get you really nice and wet for him. He would use his fingers to curl inside you and touch that spot to make you mewl and arch your back off the mattress. But you still couldn’t cum. You were in the middle of him thrusting into you, feeling how his cock would twitch gently inside you, his fingers working your clit. Left side, right side, hood of it, right on it, pinching it gently, but all it would do is make you feel more pleasure that lead to nothing but a dead end.

you buried your head into his neck and let out small whimpers as he kept his movements steady. After another 15 minutes, that’s when the whimpers turned into silent sobs. Your body jerked a little as you cried, tears gliding down your cheeks and onto his bare shoulder. His head leaned down against yours and held you tightly, gently sliding your of you to hold you in his lap. You cried softly, neither of you talking, but both knowing what was wrong. “I don’t like being broken…” you said through little cries, voice soft and hoarse. But you were cut off by Simon shaking his head and cupping your face to press small kisses against the apples of your cheeks.

“Yer not broken, love. Y’just different. Just because we don’t know how t’make you cum just yet doesn’t mean my sweet girl is broken.” His words were soft against your ear as he caressed your head, another time failed.

as time passed, you began losing hope. It’s fair, thinking you just can’t do it because something inside is wrong or maybe you just weren’t cut out to be able to feel that pleasure everyone talks about. You started to notice how Simon even began refusing any type of pleasure. Handjob? No thanks, love. Maybe a blowjob cause you had a stressful day? Nope, but I do need cuddles, sweet girl. He was refusing your love. While he sat in his home office finishing some paperwork, you walked in quietly, staring at him as he stared down at the paper, pushing up his glasses. The glasses that you finally got him to buy because he kept complaining about the television being too hard to see and the news on his phone is too small. Thank god you did though, he looked bloody hot in them. Scooting your way into his office, you stood in front of his desk, catching his attention. “Somethin’ ya need, love?”

your cheeks burned as he looked at you, but you couldn’t get distracted! “Why are you refusing my love?”

it was clear the question caught him off guard by the way he paused, mouth slightly agape as he looked at you. “I’m not refusin’ your love. What makes you say that?”

“Wha-…? Yes you are! Every time I offer you a blowjob or a handjob, you say no. Am I doing something wrong? Does it not feel good? Do you…do you not like me anymore?”

he could hear your little heart shatter in that last question, standing up from his chair and walking over to you. He grabs you hands and sits on his desk, pulling you towards him. “I fucking love you. Neve think for a minute that I stopped loving you. I’m refusing to let you do any of tha’ because I don’t think it’s fair to ye. Not fair that my sweet girl has to endure not bein’ able to cum, so m’not gonna either.” He says while looking straight into your eyes, his thick and calloused fingers pushing some hair behind your ear. “Won’t cum until you can.”

while you thought he was refusing your live, he was actually doing it because he didn’t want you to feel left out? This man looked like a scary man, but he was the most thoughtful and caring teddy bear ever. “What if I never do, though?”

“Then neither will I.” He spoke seriously. “Understand?”

the small nod you give him is enough acknowledgement for him, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. “Now, I was doin’ some research, and I found that most women can’t reach an orgasm without some help. So, what do ya think ‘bout lookin’ for some toys with me, eh?”

[thornsnvultures]

eddie munson x plus size!afab!reader nsft/18+

couldn't stop thinking about how red joseph got in this vid and my brainrot kicked in 🍅 @mantorokk-writes you were asking about weird hcs and this is mine lol

---

Eddie turns lobster red when he's fucking you. Like full flush, sunburnt red. And of course he doesn't know, cause who stops in the middle of sex to say something? Not one of the two people he's been with before you, that's for sure.

You love watching the color spread down from his forehead and the tips of his ears, all the way down to his chest. It doesn't take long either. One second he's his usual pasty white, the next he's sweaty and panting and hot all over.

"Eddie, can you c'mere? I wanna show you something."

He finds you at the sink in the bathroom of the trailer, touching up your makeup. The two of you are going out, some punk bar in the city that he heard about from one of the guys at the Hideout.

"How beautiful you look? Cause I already knew that."

He snakes his arms around your waist, dodging the elbow you throw back at him with a smile.

"What is it, baby?"

"C'mere," you tug on his arm, pulling him around to stand in front of you. He waves at himself in the cabinet mirror above the sink earning a giggle from you.

"Can you stop being cute for one second, please?"

"Can't help it. I'm adorable."

Eddie's laugh turns into a groan when your hand slips around the front of him and cups his cock over his tight, black jeans.

"Christ, babe, what the-"

"Shh," you press a kiss to his bare back and nod to his reflection. "Watch."

His gaze flickers between himself and your hands undoing his belt, then lowering his zipper. Already his dick was filling out from your touch and by the time you had him out and in your hands he was hard as nails.

"Look, Eddie."

"How am I supposed to look at anything but you right now?" He whined but did as he was told, watching slackjawed as you worked his cock in front of the mirror. Your breathy giggle behind him only made him ache more.

"Look'it how red you are, baby."

Eddie groaned, your hand was moving too fast, too slick over his cock. That and the other one squeezing and pinching at his nipple? He was gonna black out before he looked in the mirror again.

"This is what I see every time you're on top of me. Pounding into me like you need my pussy to live."

"Fuck, I do, baby. I do."

Eddie's eyes could barely stay open, it felt to good, your words too filthy. But he saw it. His bare chest flushed a deep red, white lines raked through from the scrape of your nails across his skin. He almost wanted to laugh. If your hands didn't feel so good he might be able to choke out a joke, but the only thing he could think of was you, you, you.

You pressed kisses across his back, whispering praise into his goosebump covered skin.

"Gonna come for me, Eddie? Want you to see how pretty you are when you come."

"God fuck-," Eddie gasped and watched himself as he came, flushed and sweaty and weak-kneed in your arms.

You moaned, watching as you angled his cock over the sink, jerking him through the mess he made.

"Y'know you could've just told me I look like a tomato when I'm fucking you, right? Ya little pervert," Eddie chuckled as he did up his pants.

"But where's the fun in that? And you know you looked hot."

Eddie turned back around and took you in his arms, smiling as a pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

"Tomato fucker."

"Eddie!"

[gingerbreadmonsters]

glass jaw

or: bruised, the apple of my black eye.

graphic blood, violence, and injury warnings, cutesy gory found vampire family shenanigans. i went to the haunted theme park in the middle of the woods at midnight, and all i got was this candy apple of temptation. what's up with that? alexis being the world’s best big sister in just over 8600 words.

warnings for gratuitous blood, violence and gore, graphic descriptions of injury and intent to grievously harm, and, like, one teeny tiny moment of cannibalism. i strongly encourage you to mind the warnings, and to stop reading at ANY point if you feel uncomfortable. reader discretion is advised. minors dni, 18+ only. please consider yourself warned. 

longtime readers may be aware of my sinophone!solaires hc, so ENGLISH SPEAKING READERS - for the love of GOD please check this pronunciation guide i made for the mandarin you're about to see. i PROMISE it'll help!! 💕💕💕

There’s blood everywhere.

It’s a shame. The room was quite tidy when they started – ugh, don’t say it’s got onto the upholstery again. Vampiric blood is impossible to get out of silk, and it costs a fortune to get it professionally cleaned. At least the wooden panelling in here is dark enough to hide most of the spatter.

(Thankfully, baba’s off entertaining the little ankle biters at the moment – and something about a meeting with an old friend, later on? He didn’t say when he was coming back, but it can’t be soon. Hopefully they’ll be able to deal with most of the mess before he gets back. Damned old man never wants them to have any fun.)

How long has it been? Seconds? Hours? It’s difficult to tell. She’d only come in here to sit down, feet hurting from her patrol at Wonderworld, wanting to just lie across the sofa and scroll mindlessly on her phone for an hour or two. She'd almost succeeded, too – until the furious pacing from the other side of the house had got closer and closer.

Vincent had spotted her through the doorway, carelessly cracked open, and… well. He must have had a pretty horrible day.

He’d surprised her, hurling the glass of water in his hands at her head with a sudden hiss. She’d only barely caught it in her peripheral vision, jerking back against the sofa just in time to let it whistle past her face and shatter against the far wall.

No words necessary. Vincent had snarled at her, slamming the door shut behind him, and she’d known exactly what he wanted.

It’s a habit of theirs. A bad one, maybe, but knowing it doesn’t make it any easier to break.

Heavy bodies hitting the floor, skin and spit and bone, this time it might be different. Her shin slamming into his ribs, his elbow smashing into her jaw. Blood clots underneath elegantly manicured nails, and the splinters of what used to be a wisdom tooth are spat onto the side table. It’ll grow back.

Gravity. The inescapable pull. Space bends and folds at the mercy of an impossibly strong grip, worlds and stars and planets collide, and the precious children of William Solaire once again destroy each other.

You might think that it’s madness. That it’s like some crazed, bloodthirsty, animal state that descends upon them, that it’s like they’re totally different people. You’d be wrong. Both of them are perfectly, boringly sane when it happens. There’s no madness here, no delusion – just a brother and a sister who hate and hate and hate.

She’s entirely rational when she tries to sever his spinal column with her teeth, he’s not confused about why he’s trying to rip her arm from its socket. It's never an accident. Tearing each other apart comes naturally.

Cruel spikes of broken glass glitter in Vincent's hair, the smashed mirror above the mantelpiece reflecting the thousand shallow cuts that now litter his scalp, leaking bright, scarlet blood down the back of his neck. Her forearm aches from the impact, the force of a vampiric skull smashing through the glass and into the bricks behind having radiating up through her hand, where her fingers were twisted into Vincent's hair – mostly for grip, but also to keep him from biting them off completely.

It hadn't quite worked, but whatever. She glances down at the ragged chunk of her wrist that isn't there any more, shredded fibres hanging loose, and glares at Vincent as he finishes chewing his mouthful of skin and veins and raw, twitching muscle.

He grins, wide and pretty, fangs slick and gums stained with her blood. “New perfume?”

Bastard. Like he didn't steal it off her vanity this morning, like she couldn’t fucking smell it on him when he came downstairs for breakfast.

“Depends,” she replies, and lets the fistful of dark, meticulously-conditioned and carefully-styled hair still in her hand fall to the floor. “New haircut?”

Vincent's eyes narrow, black and predatory, and, as always, she feels her mouth start to water. He's imagining what it’ll feel like to kick her through the picture window and watch her impact the paved surface of the driveway below, and she's imagining what it'll be like to dig her fingernails inside his stomach and claw out all of the softness she can find.

It’s so easy to get lost in it, the cleansing rage. Nothing but fury, white-hot and shameful as it roars alive under her skin, until she's scraped raw inside and out. The same manic look paints itself across their faces, the same sadistic glee that only comes with doing something you know you shouldn’t.

Well, they're both just as bad as each other. Perhaps it runs in the family.

She lunges, teeth bared, grabbing his shirt to try and slam him back into the brickwork – but like lightning, he lurches to the side and uses her momentum to grab her waist and hurl her bodily into the wall. Wood splinters and flecks of glass go flying as they claw at each other, blood spatter dripping down the window panes and soaking into the finely-patterned carpet.

Her ears ring when Vincent seizes the back of her head and slams her face-first into the doorframe, but she gets her own back as her broken nose puts itself back together, watching the side of Vincent’s chest collapse when she clubs him hard in the side with a metal candelabra. Sweet revenge.

Gasping for breath, he dodges out of the way of her fist and grabs her arm, pulling her painfully into the front of the heavy, wooden console table. She manages to catch his ankle with her foot as she goes, though, hooking it out from under him and shoving him down to the floor. His other hand is still locked around her wrist, so he yanks on her arm to twist himself around, landing heavily on his back instead of his front.

Luckily, she manages to keep her balance, but he can see it coming now – instead of the satisfying crunch she was hoping for, he barely manages to jerk his head out of the way so the sole of her slipper impacts the carpet instead of his eye socket. It sends a spike of pain up her shin, but she ignores it in favour of shielding her head, so the impact of him kicking her backwards into the bookcases doesn't stun her too much.

It’s kind of hilarious, when you think about it. Other families don’t cause thousands of dollars of property damage trying to violently maim and murder each other when they get bored, do they?

In hindsight, it seems almost inevitable they’d turn out like this. For a long time after Vincent’s turning, they’d fought almost constantly, and nobody had ever been able to quite understand why.

It used to be unbearable, having them in the same room together. Bitter glares and cutting remarks, sniping and biting at each other from across the table. Ba always complained about how they gave him headaches – the static whine of furious, mutual hatred, the pressure of all that blinding intensity in one place, with nowhere else to go but him.

He never took sides, and it stung every time. In her head, she knows he was right to. There aren’t the words to describe how much worse that would have made it. But deep inside, she couldn’t help the sick, dizzy feeling of her Maker abandoning her, leaving her – a necessary, instinctive fear of being cast out from the safety of his world and the shelter of his presence.

She’s his blood, she’s his, she’s his. They’re a family.

You can’t say that either of the two of them is entirely innocent. Alexis knows that there are parts of her that Vincent’s right to hate, and there are parts of him that she’s right to hate, too. They’ve both done terrible, awful things, too many to name, to other people and each other alike. Anyone else would say that one is just as awful as the other, and that with the way they’re carrying on, neither of them is making it any better whatsoever.

A boring answer, in short.

Because it’s not actually about that, is it? There’s something else too, something too tender and complicated for them to ever really unravel, the sugary decay of undeath that turns their spit to venom and their hunger to thirst. Vincent’s all the things she left behind, and she’s all the things he never had, and it’s all bundled up with the howling wasteland of the world that neither of them should ever have left.

Everyone regrets their Turning, whether they say so or not. Some regret it more than others, it’s true, but nobody gets away unscathed. The only reason it’s ever been a problem is because the House of Solaire tend to take their regrets out on each other.

(She rakes her nails across Vincent’s pretty face, deep, intentional gouges that would surely scar if he couldn’t sew himself back together so fast. He drives his foot into her knee in return, forcing the joint to fold in on itself the wrong way, and the world goes white with agony for the split second before it begins to heal.)

Sometimes, people wonder how they fixed it. How they get along so much better now, like a real brother and sister should. They never actually ask, and nobody will ever tell, but she isn’t stupid enough not to know what they’re thinking.

It shouldn’t be real. They bicker and pinch and steal each other’s clothes – she takes his keys from the drawer and drives his car instead of hers because it’s nicer, and she deliberately won’t leave him any money for petrol. He plays his music far too loudly in the room next door when he knows she’s got work to do, and eats her snacks out of the fridge without remorse, even if they’re labelled. Annoying, yes, but hardly the curse-yelling, death-threatening carnage their house used to be.

In fact, you could almost say they’re too well-behaved. They stay up late together in the living room, surrounded by every phone and laptop and tablet they can find, refreshing and refreshing the stupid ticket lottery website for the concert Vincent wants to go to of the band that she hates. They wear as many layers as they can stand and bring those UV umbrellas that block out the sunlight, so they can go out in the daytime and queue up for that pop-up event downtown that she’s been dying to go to.

Even the endless, complicated trappings of polite vampiric society are standard fare for them now. Vincent doesn’t complain when he has to stand by her vanity for twenty minutes passing her hairpin after hairpin, and Alexis waits by the front door to do his tie for him, because she’s better at doing the complicated knots that go in and out of fashion. They dress up nicely for every society ball, kissing each other on the cheek and fetching each other drinks and dancing the volta just like everybody else.

She lends him whatever jewellery he wants out of her jewellery box because it’s prettier than his. He pesters their father into letting them go to Disneyland in the evening when it’s dark and they won’t get sunburnt, three days in a row when they should be working because it’s her birthday and she wants to take pictures in front of the castle and eat the special coloured candyfloss they always have at this time of year. They proofread each other’s work documents and curl up under the same blanket on the sofa and leave their shoes next to each other by the door every day.

Shiny, red, and utterly forbidden – a devil’s deal is a wonderful thing. The apple seed of temptation took root in her sour, bloated stomach, and a shallow grave blossomed into a beautiful family tree.

It makes baba so happy that they get along now, and that makes them happy too. They’re never going to tell anyone how they do it. Isn’t there some saying about magic and secrets?

(Her arm isn’t quite back in its socket yet, shoulder screaming in pain, but it won’t stop her trying to choke Vincent unconscious against the bookcase. He spits a warm mouthful of blood and venom into her face in thanks, and knees her hard in the stomach.)

Vampiric houses are famously secretive, especially the older ones. It pretty much comes with the territory – the diet alone tends to be rather off-putting for outsiders, to say nothing of the other… well, the other habits that vampirism bestows. Generally, vampires prefer to keep the company of their own kind, and the intrinsic bond between maker and progeny is a rather powerful reason to stay.

Clans have always been compared to families in that way, and the House of Solaire takes it very seriously indeed. More so than most, although it’s not an uncommon thing. Turnings tend to isolate a person from their human friends and family. It would be remiss of their new clan, surely, not to step in and fill that void however they can?

As different as some things are, there’s no escaping human nature. If William’s taught them anything about surviving in this world, about protecting their family, it’s that nothing is off-limits. Whatever is necessary, they do without question. Knowledge, money, sex, power. Blood is blood, always. How else would the Solaire name have prospered for so long? How else will it continue?

Perhaps it’s cliche, but it’s true. Old blood means old money, and it doesn’t get much older than vampiric blood. Her world is a world of private invitations, expensive dresses, and strategic gossip – whatever you could imagine about the secretive lives of a shadowy vampiric aristocracy, it’s probably true. Champagne was made to be whispered over, after all. Long lives mean plenty of time to develop some rather particular tastes, and an instinctive thirst for blood does lend itself well to a certain nonchalance about the insides of a human body.

She’d been surprised at first, an uncomfortable revulsion that she’d had to unlearn, but she’d got used to it eventually. Vincent had too, and although it took him a little longer, he’s almost as good at playing this game as she is. Say what you will about the House of Solaire, but they are very, very good at what they do.

Nothing breeds rumours like success, and William Solaire is truly blessed. A golden name, a golden fortune, and two golden children to match.

There were always going to be rumours, certainly. Of what they might be doing behind closed doors, their ambitions for the future of their house, the secrets that lie at the heart of it. Of fresh scars in strange places, the truth of their allegiance to their father, of brothers and sisters doing things that brothers and sisters shouldn’t be doing.

You couldn’t prove any of it, obviously, and nobody ever says the words out loud. But she hears them all the same, ringing in her ears as she kisses her father on the cheek at breakfast, filling up her mind as she steals Vincent’s jacket out of his room to go shopping, and she smiles wider than ever before – because if they really knew what was happening behind the gates of Wonderworld, they’d have much more to talk about than wondering what William could possibly be holding over their heads to make them finally behave.

(In all honesty, it’s somehow more and less than you’d think. That’s not the point she’s trying to make right now, but it’s worth saying, all the same.)

They’re never, ever going to let it slip. Nobody’s ever going to know about the way she forces her brother back down onto the floor, driving her elbow into his face, feeling cartilage crack and splinter as he falls backwards in a spray of blood. He tries to scramble away, one hand reflexively covering his face, but he’s too slow - her foot comes down hard on his shin, and the scream he lets out isn’t quite loud enough to cover the sound of bone shattering under her slipper.

Vincent tries to drag himself away, fingernails tearing at the carpet, and she plants her foot on his chest to keep him in place. The break in his nose is almost fixed, crimson blood splattered all over his face, but it seems like his attention has… shifted.

That can’t be right.

He’s not that stupid, surely. What else could he be thinking of, when she could so easily crush his heart in a split second? He’s focusing on something else, but it doesn’t seem to be her – is it behind her? Is there something she can’t see? Why isn’t he paying attention?

And then, for some unknowable reason, apropos of apparently nothing… he smiles.

“What?” she spits, pressing down harder and feeling his ribs creak under the ball of her foot. “What is it?”

Infuriatingly, he chokes on a laugh, thick blood bubbling in his throat as it heals, and gestures weakly up at the wall behind her. His eyes are fixed on something there too – no, not the wall, it’s the—

“You little – fucking hell!”

She barely manages to dodge the chandelier as it comes crashing down on her head, feeling the room spin as Vincent yanks on the ceiling chain hard with a burst of psychokinesis. He manages to throw himself in the opposite direction, hand shielding his eyes as the metal hits the floor and the room fills with the deafening sound of shattering crystal.

Both of them hiss as they’re pelted with broken crystal, slicing tiny, stinging ribbons into their skin that seal up almost as soon as they appear. Shit, that hurts.

“Zhidi!”

She glares at her stupid little brother, half-crouched behind the arm of the sofa. “You’re fucking fixing that.”

“Why?” he snickers, pretending to pout, and she’s so tempted to just drag him out into the hallway by the hair and sling him down the stairs before he can finish the thought. “You’re so much better at magic than me, lili…”

“Yeah,” she grumbles, crossing her arms in the face of his unapologetic grin, “which means you need the practice more.”

Vincent groans, downcast. “But he’ll be so mad if I do it wrong!”

He huffs when she just sticks her tongue out at him in return, tossing his head to get his hair out of his eyes. “Can’t you just do half, and I’ll copy?”

Narrowing her eyes, she shakes the debris from her slippers and picks her way over to the window. It takes some concentration, but she runs a hand over the splintered mess of the frame, watching as it sews itself back together. “This is my half.”

“But it’s so hard!” he whines, little brat that he is, and she hates how the obvious manipulation still tugs at her heartstrings. He’s sitting cross-legged in front of the sofa now, hands extended over the sparkling rubble of the chandelier. “You make it look so easy, jiejie…”

Alexis sighs, and begrudgingly reaches down to ruffle his hair. Tiny flakes of mirrored glass fall onto the carpet around him as she does it, slicing little papercuts into the tips of her fingers.

“You do all the light fixtures and the mirror, and I’ll do the rest.”

He looks up at her, suspicious. “Half the mirror.”

“Two thirds.”

“Three fifths.”

“Two thirds, and I don’t tell ba you dropped the chandelier.”

“Deal,” he graciously concedes, and they pinkie promise.

She rolls her eyes and pretends she can’t see him grin, knowing full well she’s being far too soft on him. “If he blames it on me, I swear I’ll key your goddamn Volante and make you watch.”

“What? No!” Vincent gasps, looking betrayed. “Don’t you know how much that cost?”

“Yeah, I do,” she says sweetly, “which is why you’re not going to fuck it up, are you?”

He mutters something unflattering in French under his breath, and she snaps her fingers accusingly in his direction. “What was that, didi?”

“Nothing.”

She smiles winningly, before waving her hand and dragging all the books up off the floor and back into the bookcase. “That’s what I thought.”

They clean up in silence for a little while, their earlier animosity dissolving unnoticed into dust. It’s slow going – neither of them are especially gifted with magic, or have very much of it at their disposal, so they have to keep stopping every few minutes or so to recover.

Before long, they’re both out of breath and exhausted, smashed crystal still crunching beneath their feet and coughing up white plumes of plaster dust.

“When’s he even coming back, anyway?” Vincent asks, peering at the tall jade vase he’s trying to coax back together. “Tonight?”

She nods over her shoulder, trying to stitch the long gash in the sofa cushion closed and failing miserably at getting the complicated pattern to match up again. “He didn’t say when, but it can’t b—”

“Fuck.”

Vincent cuts her off, staring down at his phone as it buzzes, before looking up at her with a grimace and turning the screen to face her.

I’ll be home in ten minutes. I’m sure nothing will be broken or out of place when I get back.

Of course he’s coming home earlier than they thought. Of course. Why wouldn’t he?

“What should we do?”

Christ, he’ll be furious once he sees what they’ve done to this room. If they really, really hurry, they might be able to get away with at least a little bit of it, right?

With a huff of exertion, magic builds beneath her palms, and all the fragments of mirrored glass scattered across the room start to shiver as she prepares to sew them all back together. The mantelpiece needs to be fixed, and there’s a whole section of the doorframe that’s almost totally gone, and she doesn’t even want to think about the horrible, gaping wounds in the wooden panelling that need to be repaired and relacquered…

“Come here,” she mutters to Vincent, beckoning him over to her and pressing her palms flat to his chest. He closes his eyes and nods, resting the tips of his fingers at her temples, and they slowly, carefully, start to reach out to each other.

Her threads brush clumsily against his, once then twice then three times, the connection weak and fluttering as they try to concentrate. She stretches as far as she can, searching for that familiar feeling, anticipating the sickening lurch in her stomach that she knows is surely going to come any second, the momentary freefall as her core latches on to his.

When it happens, it takes her by surprise – her knees buckle for just a moment, and she sways slightly from side to side. Vincent rests his forehead against hers to try and keep upright, and she feels his wordless reassurance through the fledgling bond.

How does he do it? Vincent’s only a few inches taller than her, even less so when she’s in heels, and yet he always seems to tower over her – the looming shadow in the corner of her eye, the impossible weight of his gaze on her through the crowd.

The perfect height for dancing, their father had said, laughing gently as they stumbled through a clumsy waltz around the living room. She’d stepped on Vincent’s toes almost as many times as he’d tripped over the hem of her long dress, a poor stand-in for the real one she’d be wearing at the summer ball in a few months’ time. Elbows up, xiaozhi. They will not be so forgiving in Marseille as I am, you know.

Magic pools beneath her skin as she siphons it greedily through the bond, flooding her core with Vincent’s stolen power, and she luxuriates in the sensation for a long, languid moment. Then, she grits her teeth, and focuses.

With the extra rush of his magic, it’s almost laughable how fast she manages to race through most of the remaining cleanup – the blood dripping down the windowpane vanishes, the claw marks in the carpet disappear, and even the mirror above the mantelpiece clicks neatly back together as if it were never broken. The slashes across the back of Vincent’s shirt close up, and all the little chunks of bloody cartilage stuck in her hair vanish without a trace.

Her brother staggers in her arms as she keeps pulling on their bond, and she manages to ease them both down onto the sofa without too much fuss, still trying to get as much of the chandelier fixed as she can. About half of the crystal is back in place, but the chain just won’t – she can’t quite—

“Enough!”

Vincent breaks away from her with a sharp, sudden breath, slumping backwards onto the newly-repaired cushions and clutching weakly at his skull. “Too much, lijie, too much…”

He gestures vaguely towards the door with one hand in what she thinks might be thirst, and she runs out into the hallway and downstairs to the kitchen as fast as she can to get some blood out of the fridge. There’s already a glass on the counter that he must have got out earlier, so she fills it up with the half-empty bottle of O positive.

Sharing their magic always does this, but once he gets enough blood in him, he should be fine in about twenty minutes or so. It’s a lot like bridging, that way. Their cores will be synchronised for a little while, and they’ll be more keenly aware of each other’s magic, but that doesn’t really mean much when their senses are already so sharp.

A vampire’s core isn’t magically rich enough to do a huge amount all at once, so sharing magic like this is generally their best bet for doing things quickly. It lets them make the most of their limited reserves – rather than working individually, one of them can keep feeding the other magic as they concentrate on the whole picture.

Her steps are quiet but urgent as she runs back upstairs with the blood, slippered feet sliding a little on the kitchen tile. How much longer have they got until ba gets back, again?

When she pushes the door open, Vincent hasn’t moved, still sprawled across the sofa with a hand pressed over his eyes. Gently, she folds the fingers of his other hand around the glass, and he mumbles out a slurred thanks as he gulps the whole thing down in almost one swallow.

She’s just about to try the chandelier again, threads uncomfortably sore and stretched, when there’s a sudden sound from downstairs. The faintest jangling of keys, the scrape of tiny metal pins in the cylinder as the lock turns, and all of a sudden—

“Hui jia le.”

Downstairs in the foyer, he doesn’t have to shout. He already knows they can hear him.

Vincent curses silently, staggering up off the sofa and disappearing off to his room as she flings whatever magic she can at the chandelier chain. If she can just get it to stay together until he goes out again, they can probably recover enough magic between them to be able to fix it properly, right?

“Lili?” Ba’s voice is soft yet confused, the quiet sounds of him taking his shoes off and hanging up his overcoat, wondering why they’re not saying anything. “Xiaozhi, where are you?”

The question is entirely redundant – they all know that he can feel exactly where in the house they are. Vincent isn’t saying anything, so should she keep quiet as well…?

No, it’ll be too suspicious if neither of them goes and sees him, so she throws one last worried glance at the chandelier and hurries out of the room. When she gets to the top of the stairs, he’s just putting his slippers on, and she does her best to keep her heart slow and her smile easy when he looks up and notices her.

“There you are,” murmurs baba, and holds out his arms for her.

Is it embarrassing, how quickly she scrambles down the stairs and throws herself at him? He laughs, strong hands catching her waist and lifting her clear off the floor in a brief, joyful circle. “Ah, I have missed you, chérie.”

“Missed you too,” she says into his shirt, curling happily into his chest as he wraps his arms around her, fondly kissing the top of her head. The Maker’s bond between them sings at their closeness, warm and comforting as it bubbles in her chest, and she feels him smile even though she can’t see it.

“Vincent is upstairs?”

“He, um…”

The words freeze on her tongue as she tries to figure out a half-truth that she’ll actually be able to say – she can’t lie outright, but she can say something that’s technically true, even if it’s not the whole story.

“Headache,” she mumbles noncommittally, and crosses her fingers that he won’t push it.

Ba hums quietly in acknowledgement, seemingly in acceptance. “I see. Was the patrol alright?”

He smooths his hand over her back in wide, slow circles, just the right amount of pressure. “No trouble, I hope.”

She shakes her head, and tries her best to relax. “Just some unempowered kids, looking for somewhere to have a bonfire. It was easy.”

There’d been about six or seven of them piled into some beaten-up old thing, driving down the abandoned road that leads to the gates of Wonderworld, clearly not sure where they were going. Even if she hadn’t spotted the dim headlights through the trees, or heard that god-awful music from the speakers inside, she probably could have smelt them coming – whatever they were drinking, it seemed less like moonshine and more like rubbing alcohol. If they go blind, it’s not her fault.

They’d stopped just before the gates, about to get out when she’d suddenly appeared by the driver’s-side window. He’d been surprised to see her, tapping at the glass until he rolled it down, and she’d taken the opportunity to have a little fun with it before she’d have to trance them.

Mm, you boys are out late, she’d drawled, leaning forwards and resting her arms along the edge of the window. Can I… help you, with anything?

She’s not stupid – she knows exactly what she looks like, and she knows exactly what to do with it. There’s always college students from the nearby towns sneaking into the woods at night, and they fall for it every single time.

Ah, it really had been cute. She’d had to bite her lip to keep from laughing at the way all of their eyes suddenly couldn’t stay on her face, conspicuously flicking back up to her eyes whenever she moved.

Just, uh…

The one driving had really, really tried, shifting awkwardly in his seat as she tilted her head to look down at him. Just lookin’ around, ma’am, nothin’ serious…

Nothing serious? She’d smirked at that, careful not to let them see the sharp tips of her fangs as she reached out to gently brush a stray lock of blonde hair out of his face. Honey, you’ll break my heart, with talk like that.

His friend in the passenger seat still hadn’t stopped staring, slack-jawed, and she’d pushed herself up on her tiptoes to stretch her arm out towards him, pressing the tip of her fingernail under his chin to snap his mouth shut. Oh, it was like something out of a movie! She’d always wanted to do that in real life.

I can think of somewhere you’ll like.

Foolishly, they’d all been very liberal with their eye contact – trancing them had been as easy as anything.

As soon as I stop talking, you’re going to turn this car around and drive all the way back to the freeway, and you’re going to drive all the way to the next city before looking for somewhere to have your little party. You won’t remember this conversation at all, you won’t remember ever meeting anyone here, and you won’t remember anything about me.

She’d smiled nice and wide, scarlet eyes burning into each of them in turn, listening to their terrified hearts race at the monstrous sight of her. Isn’t that right, hm?

They’d nodded in unison, the driver’s hands already back to the wheel, and she’d blown them a kiss as they drove away and disappeared back into the trees. Ah, humans.

“Well, that’s good.”

Ba’s voice shakes her from the memory, slowly guiding her away from the door and towards the kitchen. “That reminds me – you should have heard the little ones tonight, my goodness…”

“Really?” She’s curious, not having met them before. “What did they say?”

Deft fingers pull the carafe of A positive out of the fridge door, and he blinks down at the bare countertop for a second before reaching up and taking a glass out of the cupboard.

“The Aguilars are… they are unchanged, shall we say.”

It makes sense. He’d been over at the Aguilar estate tonight to meet their new blood informally, before the Summit in a few months’ time when they’ll be properly introduced. The family is always very friendly, and she gets on very well with the aunties there.

Poor Vincent doesn’t like them as much as she does, but that’s mostly to do with that god-awful girl – a cousin from one of the branching bloodlines, she’s fairly sure – who’s had a crush on him ever since he was Turned, and who follows him around incessantly whenever they’re at the same parties. It’s hilarious to watch him try to shake her off, and the look of relief on his face when she finally steps in and makes up some lie about how he promised to dance with her is well worth the hour of complaining he’ll do later in the car on the way home.

The only thing is that it’s a big family. Much bigger than theirs, and it can be rather overwhelming when it gets loud. Obviously, ba doesn’t like to say anything about it, but she can feel his headaches building in the back of her own skull – his stronger senses mean he’s a lot more sensitive to the noise than she and Vincent are.

Still, they’re far more pleasant company than the House of Bennett. The only one who can make that family bearable to be around is cousin Porter, and that’s only because he likes to add a little of his own blood to the drinks so that they actually feel like they’re alcoholic.

She nods, leaning back against the sink. “Chatty, I take it.”

“Little… ah, what is it?” Sipping his glass of blood as he leans against the kitchen table, he gestures vaguely in the air with one hand. “Little pitchers that have big ears.”

It really shouldn’t be a surprise. Big houses mean more gossip, and freshly Turned vampires do love to put their shiny new senses to use.

She shrugs. “As long as they’re not spilling state secrets yet, it’ll be fine.”

“If the state tells its secrets to the House of Aguilar, we are already doomed, mon ange.”

They both laugh, washed in the pale light streaming through the windows, and baba closes his eyes as he reaches up to gently pull the fa zan from his hair.

He likes to tie it back when he goes out, partly to stop the wind from tangling it, and partly because it’s the way he says gentlemen used to be when he was young. Over the years, he’s amassed an almost staggering collection of little clips and ribbons and pins – a not insignificant number as gifts from her and Vincent – that he likes, but he generally just wears it down when he’s at home and there aren’t guests.

The moonlight turns the edges of his black hair to silver as he shakes his head with a relieved sigh, running his fingers through it quickly to smooth it out before flicking it back behind him. He likes to keep it long, at least several inches below his shoulder, and she’s always been so jealous of how he seems to make every hairstyle he tries seem so effortlessly elegant.

“Still,” he continues with a wicked smile, “you will see for yourself when we see them next. I think they will have many things to discuss with you, perhaps.”

He tips his head languidly to the side as he pushes his phone across the table, the screen lit up with a photo of Vincent from last summer. If she remembers correctly, it’s from when they were taking a break at the summer house down by the coast – he’s shirtless, knee deep in the water, turning back to the camera with a rakish grin, dark hair already wet from the splash fight they’d been having and fangs glittering in the moonlight from above.

In short, he looks painfully, achingly handsome. Scandalised, she smacks her father in the shoulder and gasps theatrically, like she can’t believe what he’s done.

“You didn’t!”

“I certainly did.”

“He’ll die!” she whisper-shouts, trying desperately not to laugh too hard. “He’s already having trouble outrunning marriage proposals from one of them, and you’re setting the new blood on him too?”

Ba just shakes his head, imperious, looking down his nose at her like he’s imparting some grave wisdom. “They asked to see a picture of my progenies.”

“So it had to be that picture?”

“I showed your picture as well.”

Resigned, she buries her face in her hands. “I dread to think.”

“Oh, you are so dramatic, chérie,” he laments, and he even has the gall to click his tongue in faux-disapproval when she narrows her eyes at him. “See? The picture is nice!”

It takes him a second to find it, but it’s just as bad as she feared – it’s from the same holiday as Vincent’s photo, probably taken later that night. She’s wearing that nice floaty sundress she bought in Singapore, barefoot in the sand as she blows a kiss to the camera, lips still stained with blood from whatever scarlet cocktail she’s holding in her other hand.

This was exactly his plan, in other words, and she’s going to fucking murder him in his sleep. If any of those upstart little ankle biters tries to chat her up, it won’t be pretty – the last one got a cake fork stabbed straight through his hand and several inches into the table beneath it, and the one before that still visibly trembles at the sound of her stilettos clicking softly against the floor.

“If I kill an Aguilar new blood at the summer ball, it’s your fault,” she mutters threateningly, hissing and baring her fangs at him when he reaches out to take her face in his hands and draw her closer. “I mean it!”

“Of course you do, xiao gong zhu,” he murmurs indulgently, and kisses her forehead. “You are telling me, so it must be true.”

Upstairs, the sound of floorboards creaking, fabric rustling. Vincent.

“I meant what I said, by the way,” ba adds nonchalantly, “about broken things.”

Shit. She blinks, innocent as anything as she beats back the guilty urge inside her that yearns to spill the truth. “What’s broken?”

“Lili.”

He raises an eyebrow, discreetly tapping the shell of his ear, and she strains to figure out what he’s hearing. “I am old, baobei. Not stupid.”

If she listens, really listens, she can just about make something out. Another noise, something much quieter – a sort of stiff, metallic creaking from upstairs, on the other side of the house to Vincent’s bedroom…

Her smile wavers as ba swans serenely past her, disappearing out into the hallway, deft fingers picking up his fa zan from the table as he goes past. “It is nothing, surely. Perhaps you will bring Vincent something for his head while I am changing?”

God fucking damn it – she might be able to fix the chandelier without him noticing, but what are the odds? He’s meeting that friend tonight, and if he’s going to change now then it probably won't be long until he goes out, but there’s no way of knowing if it’ll hold until then.

Scowling, she pours another glass of blood for Vincent, and one more for herself, before reluctantly trudging upstairs.

It's a fact of life, or at least a fact of vampirism: you can’t really have any secrets from your Maker, and that’s even without the whole truth-compulsion thing. No matter what you do, your Maker is always aware of what you’re feeling, when you’re feeling it.

The emotional bond never goes away, though the strength of its effects ebbs and flows. Sometimes it’s so faint as to be almost nonexistent, a tiny shiver down the spine – and sometimes it’s almost overwhelming in its intensity, foreign emotions bursting out of nowhere like fireworks, blindingly bright and terrifyingly loud.

For young vampires, it’s a lot to get used to. Some take years to become accustomed to the bond, while others are oddly comforted by it. New Makers are often surprised by the strength of as well – it goes both ways, but generally the Maker feels more of their progeny’s emotions than the other way around. Nobody's really sure why.

More complicated feelings don’t come through especially clearly, apparently a little bit difficult for the bond to transmit, or perhaps for the other body to decipher. But simpler, more basic emotions are very, very easy. You might even say they’re too easy, in fact. Things like fear, sadness, joy – and, well…

He must already know what they’ve been up to. That sort of anger, the instinctive viciousness that comes so easily to them. They all know from experience how quickly that can wash over the bond, twisting and curling as it spreads like dark ink through water. After a while, it stops being so intrusive – it’s just how it works, and it’s not as though they can stop it. It’s possible to tune it out, and before long it generally goes away.

But a Maker with two progenies, both of whom are busy winding each other up at the same time? Who never seem to know when to quit, chasing that addictive, acidic feedback loop of rage that only ever seems to push them higher?

Ba doesn’t mind what they get up to, per se, as long as they keep it discreet and clean up after themselves. But even so, it’s not difficult to see how it could be… distracting.

He definitely knows what they were doing, is the point. And he clearly knows that there’s something they broke that she hasn’t been able to fix yet. She just needs to make sure it’s all neat and tidy by the time he gets back later, and hopefully they can all pretend that it never happened.

“What.”

Vincent glares at her from under his duvet when she pushes the door open with her foot, crimson eyes staring out from the blackness as she gets closer and closer. The lights are off and the blackout curtains are closed, so it’s almost entirely dark, but she can make out the shape of the bed well enough.

“Blood.”

She holds out one of the glasses, not breaking eye contact until a single hand slithers out from under the duvet and takes it from her.

He doesn’t seem to have thought about how he’s going to drink it, lying flat on his stomach and sprawled sideways across the bed, and she snickers under her breath as he blinks stupidly at the glass. With a flourish, she takes the second straw out of her own glass and drops it into his, sticking her tongue out gleefully at him when he mumbles something unintelligible into the mattress beneath him.

She shrugs – it’s close enough. “You’re welcome.”

Perching herself on the edge of the bed, she watches in amusement as he drags himself forwards under the duvet so he can get the straw in his mouth without having to lift his head, occasionally poking the mound of blankets that claims to be her brother in the side to see if he can feel it or not.

(He can. She knows. It’s just funny.)

Because she’s very generous, she gets up to grab a few of the books off his desk, stacking them up by the side of the bed, level with where his face is. He complains when she takes the glass back out of his hand, but acquiesces as soon as she puts it back down on the books, army crawling towards the end of the straw that’s now level with the top of the mattress and haughtily sticking it in his mouth.

“Better?”

The Vincent-shaped duvet creature next to her slurps loudly at his glass of blood, and doesn’t say anything.

She’d use telepathy, but she needs to save all the magic she can get. Quickly, she pulls her phone out of her pocket, turning the brightness down all the way and typing a message in her notes app to show him.

He knows something’s broken, and the chandelier chain isn’t going to last long if I don’t go and fix it. Do you have enough magic to help yet?

“No,” Vincent grumbles, and coughs pointedly.

Great. How much longer?

He coughs again, baleful red eyes turning to look witheringly up at her from his blanket nest, and she doesn’t have to be able to see his hands to know the gesture he’s making at her.

Fine, she types, as sarcastically as it’s possible to be when you can’t say anything out loud, but if he hears, I’m blaming you. Distract him.

Obediently, he starts moving around again, making sure the sound of mattress springs and sheets rustling is loud enough for her to slip out of the door and towards the drawing room they ruined earlier. Luckily, it’s in the opposite direction to baba’s room, but she still holds her breath and tiptoes as quietly as she can in case he—

“Lili?”

Oh, for fuck’s sake!

She whips around, totally innocently, to see her father beckoning her down the stairs as several sets of cufflinks rattle in his palm. “Come and help me choose.”

Helpless to protest, she’s forced to follow him down into the foyer, umming and ahhing over which cufflinks she thinks will suit his outfit the best. In her head, though, she can’t stop worrying about that damned chandelier, the creaking sound from upstairs that she’s sure is getting louder, the increasing amount of magic she’ll need to fix it as it surely gets worse and worse…

“A good choice as always, mon ange.”

She startles slightly as baba nods approvingly, smoothly taking the silver pair she’d mindlessly chosen and putting them on, before leaving the rest in the dish on the low console table. “I won’t be back until the morning, so you will look after Vincent, won’t you?”

Hastily, she nods. “Yeah, I will, I will.”

“Alright.” He rests his hands gently on her upper arms as he kisses both her cheeks, before taking his car keys out of his pocket and heading out of the front door. “See you later, chérie. I love you very much.”

“Love you too!”

She waits the agonisingly long half-second it takes for the door to close behind him before racing back upstairs, and she hears Vincent, still clutching his half-empty glass, scrambling out of his room at the same time. They nearly crash face-first into each other in their haste, yanking the drawing room door open and tumbling through it as fast as they can.

“I thought your head still hurt?” she says quizzically to Vincent, watching his hands trembling faintly around his glass, but he just makes a face.

“The alternative’s worse,” he replies, and she nods. He’s right.

She reaches for her core, willing the magic to come – it’s slow and it’s weak, but she yanks on her threads as hard as she can to try and summon it to her fingertips. The chandelier sways ominously above them as she screws her eyes shut to concentrate, and she can feel Vincent’s aura flicker next to her as he does the same thing. Come on, come on…

She’s nearly there, power surging under her skin and ready to be channelled outwards, when there’s a sudden—

“Shit!”

The magic fizzles uselessly away as her eyes fly open to see Vincent, clutching his head in pain, cursing as the front of his shirt is drenched in blood. There’s shattered glass all over the floor from where he’s dropped his drink, and she chokes down the irritated vampiric growl that rises in her throat. “Fucking hell, xiaodi!”

“I’ll fix it, I’ll fix it!” he moans, slightly unsteady on his feet, throwing his hands in the air in frustration. “Look, at least it’s not the—”

Something moves, just at the very edge of her vision.

Above her head, the room plunges into blackout as something snaps.

“Move–!!”

She barely manages to shove Vincent away from her before the heavy metal body of the chandelier comes crashing down on her head. It’s not heavy enough to knock her out, but the surprise is enough that all she can do is stand there as 15 kilos of brass and crystal and electrics falls directly on top of her and shatters.

He skitters backwards, recoiling from the spray of tiny crystal shards that covers the floor for the second time today, nearly tripping over the leg of the side table as he goes. A thousand stinging papercuts split their skin, sealing themselves up and leaving tiny droplets of crimson blood dripping down their arms and faces.

Without even noticing, she instinctively catches one of the twisted metal arms of the chandelier that must have been sheared off when it impacted her skull, raw edge snagged painfully in her hair as it slides neatly down into her arms.

They’re so fucked.

They both freeze guiltily as a floorboard creaks outside in the hallway, far too close to be a coincidence, and she winces as there’s a polite knock, knock, knock at the door.

“We—” She chokes, breathing in a hacking lungful of debris, voice cracking slightly from her dry throat. “We’re in so much trouble.”

Vincent stares wide-eyed at her through the sudden dark, blood dripping slowly from his chin and soaking into the carpet..

“Yeah,” he mumbles distantly, “probably.”

The drawing room door swings open, and both their heads snap towards the open doorway so fast it would give a human whiplash. There, silhouetted against the light, car keys still jangling in his palm and running an exasperated hand through his long hair—

“What,” hisses William Solaire, raising an irate eyebrow at his children, covered in glittering crystal dust and leaking blood into a very expensive carpet, “did I say about breaking things again?”

The clan always sticks together. Family comes first – nothing and nobody could make them betray each other, and they’d rather die than leave one of their own behind. It’s the central tenet of their existence, the core fact of their messy, gory lives.

Some things are just… true. The earth is round, the sky is blue, and there is no power known to men or gods that could turn the House of Solaire against itself.

Baba shifts his weight slightly, eyes narrowing accusingly.

And very, very slowly, Alexis and Vincent both point at each other.

link to the glass jaw pronunciation guide

main masterlist

this is an original fanwork by @gingerbreadmonsters - please do not repost or misattribute

[masked-alien-lesbian]

Shadow Hana!

Shadow/dark! Hana Lee x Raelyn (nb!OC)

"WHERE ARE THEY!?!" Hana's usual sweet voice now somewhat inhuman thundered through the ballroom. The guards drew closer in a circle around Drake, Maxwell, King Liam, his Queen Riley and her twin, Raelyn who weakly struggled against their sister's grasp.

"Let me go, Ri!" Raelyn pleads with Riley who tightened her grasp on them.

"I said no Raelyn!" Riley says sternly shaking Raelyn desperately trying to get her point across. "That's not Hana in there anymore! She ceased being your fiancee after destroying half of Cordonia!"

"That's not true! She needs me!" Raelyn continues to struggle despite their still healing injuries. Days ago Hana completely lost it, the stress from her parents, the bullying she dealt with from the court made her snap and now she was this...shadowy dark yet powerful being that could easily crush stone with her bare fists and start fires with a wave of her hand. In her first initial out burst she nearly brought the castle down around them all and in the collapse of the roof, Raelyn was injured. Since then the gang had been in hiding trying to outrun Hana's attempt to find her fiancé.

"Raelyn! She killed people!" Riley says staring in Raelyn's eyes hoping to knock sense in her twin.

"I don't care!" Raelyn yells back in her face causing Riley to freeze in shock and this gives Raelyn an opportunity to jerk away.

"HANA!" Raelyn hollers and the doors blow off their hinges. Hana's shadowy frame seems to fill the whole room.

"Raelyn..." Hana says softly

"Hana!" Raelyn tearfully cries out, stumbling to reach their fiancée, shadows wrap all around Raelyn's waist to bring them right in front of Hana's terrifying form but her appearance doesn't bother Raelyn in the slightest, they just collapse in Hana's arms.

"Get away from them, monster!" Riley cries out and Hana glares at her. Tendrils of shadows surround the shaking guards.

"You'll pay for keeping my fiance from me just like my parents paid for keeping us apart! No one is going to take them from me." Hana roared, her eyes glowing as hot as flames and the shadows continue to rise over the gang's heads.

"Stop! Please! No more! Don't hurt them! Please. For me Hana? For me?" Raelyn says cupping Hana's grey face in their hands pleading for their sister and friends lives. "Let's just go, please, let's just leave!"

Hana's furious face softens, "You want me to spare their lives? After all they've done? After how they treated you and me?" She sighs, "very well, I'll spare them but only because you asked me. We'll leave. We'll go somewhere no one can separate us again." Hana says before slicing the air and somehow pulling back this reality like anyone would pull open the curtains. Riley saw a glimpse of dark purple stormy skies and rivers of lava of a different dimension before she began to struggle even harder against Liam and Drake's grasp.

"No! Raelyn! Don't go!" Raelyn looks back at Riley and smiles.

"It's okay Ri. I'm going to be okay. You had to know I wasn't made for this courtly life anyway. And I choose Hana. I'll always choose Hana. Don't worry! I'll figure out how to face time you wherever we end up!" Raelyn says before taking Hana's hand and walking into this Shadow Realm with her. And then they were gone. Light began to filter through whatever windows weren't shattered and bird song could be heard. Everyone began to murmur and shift now that death seemed to not be on top of them anymore.

"Riley?" Liam says taking his wife in his arms.

"They're going to be okay. I know it." Riley says as they begin to put their home and their kingdom back together.

[s-creations]

The Prince and The Plumber - Chapter 1: The Prince

The Prince: Forced to flee due to being hunted down by people he used to trust. Sent to the Mushroom Kingdom in order to hide him away until the growing evil can be taken care of. Didn't realize he'd find more than safety.

The Plumber: Used to being the second hero, the younger brother, the last resort. Used to being looked over, even though he's the taller one. Close to giving up on finding someone he connects with that's not his brother. He's surprised to find someone new working at the florist.

Fandom: Super Mario & Related Fandoms Rating: General Audience Audiences Relationships: Luigi/Prince Peasley, Luigi & Mario (Nintendo), Mario/Princess Peach Warnings/Additional Tags: Fleeing, New Identity, New point of life, Encroaching danger.

It was deathly quiet. The kingdom blanketed in heavy shadows. The moon was unseen in the sky, hidden by thick, dark clouds. 

A small group fled from the large castle.

One large form was taking the lead, checking to make sure their path was clear before waving the other two on. A heavy sword resting on their hip. The other two smaller forms follow closely behind. All wearing large hooded cloaks and carrying very little on their backs. No one spoke. But the fear was palpable. 

There was a brief moment of hope filling their chest when they saw the border. The base of the large mountains where the forest began to thin out. Trees turning into wide prairies and rolling hills. 

If they could just travel through the darkness, even with how open it was, they knew they would be safe. 

The quiet was instantly broken when an explosion sounded before them. The largest of the three quickly covered the other two. Taking a defensive stance as the ground finally stopped shaking.

“Finkrats!” A shrieking voice sounded from above. A Beanish being wearing a heavy red cloak and a strange looking contraption on his head descended before the group. A wide smile stretched tight across their face. “Did kernel sized brain dolts think you could pull the wool over the great Cackletta’s eyes? Fools! Idiots!”

The larger of the hooded figures drew their sword. “Lady Lima, would you be so kind as to escort my son away from here.”

“Mother-”

“Do you think I will be giving you the allowance to flee?” the floating figure shouted out, “Your plan is just an annoyance! Such as a wad of gum at the bottom of our gorgeous plan’s shoes. None shall flee! It will be in your best health to turn yourself over!”

The flying figure let out a shriek of fear, just barely avoiding the sword that was skillfully thrown their way. The wielder turned back towards the other two. 

“Run!”

One had to pull the other forward as they left the fighting behind.

“Lady Lima-”

“We can’t stay, Prince Peasley.”

“I can’t leave her behind!”

“Your mother wants you safe. Please.”

The sounds of shrieking and clashing metal soon faded away. The duo of fleeing figures moving over the large hills as quickly as they could. Their harsh breathing soon became the only sound they could hear. 

Reaching the crest of the latest hill, they caught an unnatural light in the valley before them. Recognizing it to be a carriage, but not one from their kingdom. Two Toads were stationed by it. One at the reigns with the other right by the door, who was already opening it for them. 

“Where’s Queen Bean?” The Toad asked fearfully as Peasley was practically shoved in first. 

“Not here,” Lady Lima snipped out, “the plan has changed. Please, we need to leave.”

She made sure to sit between the door and Peasley. There was no further discussion shared with the Toads as they both sat at the front. The carriage jerked as it quickly departed. 

Peasley leaned forward from his seat. Eyes frantically scanning the darkness as if expecting his mother to appear. 

“Your highness, please sit back.”

“I-”

“Peasley…we can’t do anything.”

Hearing the defeat in Lady Lima’s voice seemed to be the factor needed for Peasley to agree that they couldn’t help. Slumping back into the chair. Looking absolutely defeated. 

The ride remained quiet as they traveled along. The outside world was just as dark as when they fled, nothing seemed to keep Peasley’s mind off the situation. Left to squeeze his hands together in hopes that the pain would be enough to distract.

Even arriving at the Mushroom Kingdom didn't leave that much of an impact.

The first meeting to this kingdom should have been wonderful. Warming. A large and open welcome.

Suppose life doesn’t fully work out that way.

They only stopped when they reached the back of the castle. Only able to be seen by the standard torches that illuminated the small area. The travelers stepped out of the carriage and were greeted by Princess Peach and Toadsworth. Both give a relieved smile…only for it to falter when the expected third didn’t exit the carriage as well. 

“Pardon me,” Toadsworth started, “but where is Queen Bean?”

Whatever resolve Peasley had been able to hang onto crumbled away. Doing his best to hide his face as tears started to fall, arms wrapping around himself tightly. He didn’t fight back as another pair of arms gently enveloped him. Pulling Peasley into a strong hold with the smell of sweet fruit washing over him. 

“She’ll be okay, I’m sure of it.” Peach said softly, uncaring of the tears falling onto her dress. Shoulder becoming wet. “But our priority now is keeping you safe.” 

“S-She didn’t allow m-me a chance to h-help.” Peasley choked out.

“Because she wanted to know you were able to get away safely. Prince Peasley, cry as you need to, but know that she did it to get you away from there.”

The prince nodded slowly at this.

“How about we get you both settled and off to bed, yes?”

_____________________________

When Princess Peach had been initially contacted, it was in the form of a pleading letter from Queen Bean. Acting queen to the BeanBean Kingdom. A place that had remained as separated from other areas as best they could. 

While the letter didn’t explain in full details the situation, it was a desperate request for her son, Prince Peasley, to find sanctuary in the Mushroom Kingdom. The prince had become a target of some dangerous individuals. Asking that, if the worst was to pass, Peasley could be tucked away as a new citizen within the Mushroom Kingdom until a solution could be found.

Peach agreed immediately. 

When a new letter arrived stating that Queen Bean, her lady-in-waiting, and the prince would be arriving soon, Peach did what she could. Subtly building a new home that was larger than usual. Making sure the royals could have a comfortable and safe life here until they could return to their own kingdom once more. Even setting up a ‘job’ for the prince that Peach knew he would enjoy.

As worried as she was for the absence of Queen Bean, Peach continued to put on a brave face. Smiling softly as she led the newcomers of her kingdom to their residence for the next…however long they needed to remain here. Hoping in some way to ease Peasley’s quiet worries.

“And here we are,” Peach announced as they walked into the newly constructed home, “Full amenities offered to make your stay here more comfortable. And I do mean full. Two stories, all bedrooms on the second floor.”

“Thank you Princess Peach, you are more than kind.” said Lady Lima.

“This is honestly the least I can do. Prince Peasley, you may be happy to hear that our local florist Myriostoma has a place open in her shop for help. I figured being around some flowers may help you since I can’t offer you a full garden.”

Peasley’s hand gripped onto the back of the kitchen chair tightly, mouth pulled thin. Peach was fearful that she may have stepped out of line with the offer. Only for him to nod slowly and reply with, “Of course…thank you.”

“I hope it would be some way to help you keep your mind off of things.” Peach’s smile faltered when Peasley turned further away, back now facing her. “Well, how about we let you two get some sleep. Please let me know if there’s anything else I can get for you.”

She swallowed down her ‘enjoy your evening’ and instead opted for a low bow. Soon departing from the new home and heading back to the castle. Toadsworth by her side. It was only when they were safely back, in Peach’s bedroom specifically, that he finally spoke up.

“What are you thinking, princess?”

“If we could possibly send the brothers to help and-”

“I understand your concern my dear. But this Cackletta is dealing with magic that none of us have seen before. It’s best to move forward with Queen Bean’s request and focus on keeping the prince safe.”

“Then may we at least be forward with them? Allow them to also be aware of the situation.” 

“They’ve not ever returned from their latest outing yet. Let’s allow the waters to calm and for these villains to be thrown off Peasley’s trail before doing so. In case we have some unsavory characters around, listening in. We just need to be mindful of how we move forward, for the betterment of everyone. For now, I would suggest following your own advice and getting some sleep.”

Peach nodded slowly, heart feeling heavy over the situation. 

_____________________________

“Decide which room you would like to stay in sire.” Lady Lima said while waving her hand further down the hallway on the second floor. Offering a warm smile to the somber prince.

Peasley barely looked up as he passed by. Entering the first room on the left. “This one.”

“Your highness, you haven’t even seen the rest of them.”

“Does it matter, does it really?” Peasley more or less stomped further into the bedroom. Dropping onto the small bed and burying his face into the pillow.

“Of course it matters,” Lady Lima argued, “I want to know that you’re comfortable.” 

“I would feel ‘comfortable’ if I was back in the BeanBean kingdom. I would feel ‘comfortable’ if Cackletta wasn’t hunting me down! I would feel ‘comfortable’ if you’d allow me to go back and help my mother!”

Letting out a slow sight, Lady Lima moved into the room proper. Laying a gentle hand on the weeping prince’s shoulder. 

“Come now, sit up. Let’s wipe those tears away.” She gave her warm smile once more as Peasley did as asked. His head still hanging low. Unflinching as Lady Lima pulled out a handkerchief and gently dabbed at his cheeks. 

“This situation is…”

“Horrible.” Peasley weakly offered.

“Not what we had originally planned. This is scary, I won’t lie. But your mother made it very clear that you are the priority in this situation.”

“I don’t want to be…”

“Neither do I. I wish none of this was happening. But we must move forward with what’s been presented to us and do what we can. This situation will sort itself out, you have to believe that it will.”

“My belief is not very high right now…”

“That…is understandable. We’ll just try and focus on what we can for now. Starting with which room you actually want.”

Peasley let out a slow sight and gave a low nod, dull eyes looking around. It was a small room, even more so in comparison to his room at the castle. It was relatively bare save for the few essentials in furniture. A simple dresser, desk, and bed with a small mirror hanging on the wall. There was not much else. The light wood unblemished, a clear indication at how new this house was. Even with how small it was, Peasley felt content there.

“No, I’m fine with this one. I very much doubt the other rooms are that much different.” 

“But you haven’t seen them.”

“I’m content here, really. I just…want to get some sleep, please…”

“Of course. How about we take tomorrow to just…rest up? See what the town holds for us?”

Peasley merely nodded. 

After Lady Lima left, he sat on the edge of the bed. Supposed it was his bed now. Even though he didn’t want to think about it that way. He should be trying to get some sleep, but his mind didn’t want to shut up. Jumping to all the ‘what-ifs’ and unachievable possibilities. 

At some point, Peasley did fall asleep. Well, more passed out as he never properly got onto the bed. Instead falling over on his side, barely on the bed, still dressed in the outfit he’d fled in. The beanish prince let out a low groan as he moved, muscles and bones protesting, sore and very tight. 

The sun was low in the sky, but enough to paint the room in a warm, orange glow. Making it seem somehow larger than it was the previous night. Which didn’t make Peasley feel better about the situation. 

Shuffling over to the dresser, Peasley was surprised to find it already filled. Simple garments of simple materials that fitted the prince well. A small smile fleeting across his face, remembering the farmers who wore the same while working in the fields. How strange it was to feel comfort in fabrics that he’d never worn before. 

He chalked it up to how homesick he was feeling. 

Fully dressed, Peasley headed down the stairs and was met with a wonderful smile. Surprised to find Lady Lima putting around the kitchen. Filing a plate properly before placing it on the small table.

“Good morning sire. How did you sleep?”

“Uh…well enough, I suppose. I don’t think I truly slept. More like passed out. I’m not even really awake to be honest.” 

“Let’s get you something to eat and see how you feel afterwards.”

“I didn’t know you could cook.” Peasley commented as he was ushered to the table. Sitting before the plate already resting on it.

“I’m a woman of many talents,” Lady Lima replied, “I had more jobs before I was head lady-in-waiting. How about after we eat, we explore the kingdom. Allow ourselves to become used to living here?”

Even with how wonderful the food tasted, it felt like slime in Peasley’s mouth. Settling heavy in his stomach. It was an honest request. It shouldn’t hurt him so much.

“Um…yes, I suppose so. That makes sense…”

“At the very most, we can possibly find something for your room.”

“Sure…”

“We could even see that florist that Princess Peach was talking about.”

Peasley nodded.

“...Prince Peasley, you need to answer me, please.”

“No, I agree. That sounds like a good idea. I’m fine with that.”

Lady Lima fell quiet and gave a small nod of her own. No further words were exchanged.

Peasley took a deep breath when they left the house. Missing the hint of damp dirt that the BeanBean Kingdom held in the air. Instead replaced with warmed glass and metal. At least the sun was as bright as back home. A small smile formed feeling the heat wash over him. 

The main city of the Mushroom Kingdom was busy, even for how early in the morning it still was. Multiple Toads with different colored spotted caps were rushing around. Businesses called out what they were selling and greeted customers with wide smiles. It was loud and crowded. Even if the Toads were barely reached past Peasley’s waist, the prince still felt cramped. 

“This is…very different,” Peasley said, “The streets are not as crowded as…at home.”

“I agree. But we just have to make do with what we have right now. Oh, this shop looks interesting. Why don’t we go in?”

Peasely wasn’t sure if he was so worried about the situation or if he was truly just uninterested at what the kingdom had to offer. But he was unsure about all of this. 

The BeanBean Kingdom was a major producer of farming and agriculture. It was green, bright, vibrant, a world full of vegetation and plant life. 

The Mushroom Kingdom was a mess of noises and colors. Weird mechanical wonders that would whoosh the Toads around or produce sounds that roared above the number of Toads. 

It was too crowded.

Too noisy.

Too much.

Peasley wrapped his arms around himself. Finding the ground more interesting than anything around him. 

How could the world be so brilliant and yet so dull?

He allowed himself to be shepherd from building to building. Merely nodding at the questions Lady Lima gave, uncaring, mind a constant buzz of discomfort. Feeling his skin crawl at the stares they would receive passing by.

Relief hit him when a sweet smell wafted over to him. Peering up found himself drawing closer to a florist shop. Bundles of multi-colored flowers filling out the wooden crates and holders. The building itself was a neutral brown, calming and complimenting to the bursts of color surrounding it. Just peeking out behind was a small greenhouse placed in the backyard.

Peasley felt his shoulders relax as they drew closer. 

A Toad with a lilac-colored spotted cap shuffled out of the cozy building. Carrying a watering can with a small bag draped around her shoulder. Getting closer showed some of her spots being a darker shade with winkles at the corners of her eyes and mouth. She flashed a warm smile when she finally spotted them.

“Good morning! What can I help you with today?”

“Good morning,” Lady Lima shuffled closer, “Would you be Ms. Myriostoma?”

“Indeed I am, but you may call me Myrio. I’m assuming you are Mrs. Lima and Peasley? Princess Peach said we had new arrivals to our kingdom and that one of you had a high interest in flowers?”

“That would be my grandson, Peasley.”

Said person was pulled over. Offering a weak smile to the Toad, whose eyes were on him. “Um, yes, good morning.”

“Wonderful to meet you,” Myrio said with her smile seeming to grow, “I figured you’re using today to get used to the kingdom?”

“Um, yes ma’am. It’s very…busy.”

“Not used to big areas?”

“We were farmers before arriving here,” Lady Lima explained, “This is a bit of a shock to the both of us. An unexpected change.”

“What caused the move, if I may ask?”

“Family issues.”

“Ah, say no more. I’m sorry to hear this. Pardon me for prying.”

Peasley swallowed weakly, allowing Lady Lima to continue talking. Who gave a small laugh with a wave of her hand. “Not to worry, it’s natural to be curious. I will ask, Princess Peach did say that you may have a position for my grandson?”

“Oh, of course! I’m getting on in age and I just don’t have the mobility like I used to. Would you be alright with starting tomorrow? Allow yourself a full day to get somewhat adjusted.”

Tongue feeling heavy, Peasley merely nodded.

“My grandson’s not much for talking,” Lady Lima said quickly.

“Nerves will do that to you, never you worry. I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow morning Peasley. For the time being, can I interest you in anything?”

They were soon walking away, Peasley’s arms heavy with a few bouquets. A bag drapped on his arm filled with a few vases.

“I can talk.” Peasley was able to weakly argue back when they were a few blocks away.

“Normally, yes. But you’re in a dangerous situation that none of us want you to be in. If you don’t feel okay with talking, then don’t. It’s okay to be tongue tied with nervousness.”

“But I’m a prince-”

Lady Lima quickly shushed him. Worried eyes darting around before pulling Peasley into a nearby alley. Only speaking when she knew no one would be able to hear them. 

“You are a prince, yes. But that doesn’t mean you’re automatically immune to this massive change. This is scary and you need to learn your limitations. You can’t be a prince right now. You need to just be Peasley.”

With a hard swallow, Peasley merely nodded back. 

Because he didn’t want to admit he didn't know who Peasley was, if not a prince.

_____________________________

As requested the day before, Peasley arrived to Myrio’s shop before the sun fully rose. The Toad absolutely thrilled as she greeted the prince. Leading Peasley around to show how the shop was to be operated. What flowers needed to be outside and what was kept in the shade of the building. How often to water, when to replant, as well as showing off the garden and greenhouse located in the back. 

It was quaint and comforting. A strange piece of calm given to the nervous prince.

The morning was quiet as they worked. Only a few customers stopped by to pick up their purchases. Saying hello to Myrio and offering a warm greeting to Peasley. It was…peaceful. Surprisingly so after the experience he had the day before.

“Is it always this exciting?” Peasley playfully asked. 

“Actually, no. I’m very thankful for how quiet it is today.” Myrio laughed softly, “A true normal day would be if Lord Bowser attacked us and tried to capture our princess once again.”

That caused Peasley to almost trip over his own feet. “Wait, what? Who’s ‘Lord Bowser’? That’s normal for this kingdom?”

He thought this place was supposed to be safe? Why in the world would his mother send him here?

“Oh goodness, you really live under a rock, don’t you?” There was another round of gentle laugh before Myrio answered, “Bowser is the current acting ruler for the Dark Lands. He also has a very creepy obsession with Princess Peach. I’ve seen a few homes being destroyed and rebuilt over the years.”

“How is this place still standing?”

Peasley’s question was not answered. At least not right away.

Instead, their attention was pulled further down the street where a cry of surprise was heard. Quickly followed by a loud crash and a call of ‘Sorry!’. 

Peasley caught sight of a green piece of fabric, a hat, floating easily through the air. A brief moment of confusion, wondering where  that had come from, crossed his mind before it smacked right into his face. Causing him to drop the watering can in surprise, reaching up for it. 

“Oh goodness! Oh…Luigi!” Myrio’s voice called out with a laugh.

“I’m so sorry!” A new voice called out, sounding very out of breath, “The wind took my hat and I’ve been chasing it for two blocks and- I’m very sorry…”

“I’m not the one who ‘caught’ it.”

At this point, Peasley was able to pull the hat away. A little heated that a garment took him so easily by surprise.

Only for the bitter feeling to disappear when his eyes landed on the newcomer. 

They were human. Rounded ears seen peeking out from beneath ruffled dark brown hair. Skin a pale peachy color with red cheeks, no doubt from the running they had done. A sleek mustache the same color as his hair resting beneath his round nose. Dressed in deep blue overalls with a green shirt, the same shade as the hat.

But what pulled Peasley’s attention the most were the blue eyes. Wide and shining. Peasley couldn’t decide what the color reminded him of more. It was torn between a clear summer sky or of his favorite colored roses.

He wasn't sure how long he’d been gapping. But Peasley was pulled from his trance hearing Myrio.

“I’m very pleased to introduce to you one of our great heroes that keeps our kingdom safe. This is Luigi.”

[sirspazingtonthefourth]

A Well-Tempered Blade

Chapter 6: Smoke and Mirrors

Summary: Katherine has a lousy quirk. At least, that's what everyone says. After all, who would want to be able to mimic any sound they hear? That's no quirk for a hero. But Katherine's quirk is not mimicry, but something worse; something that would get her labelled a villain the second she revealed it. So to keep her family she hides her quirk, not even telling her closest friends her secret. But secrets must eventually come into the lights, and Katherine's are no exception. 1.8k/16k, no romance, angst? oc

A/N: Yay! More canon characters! Well, one specifically. I'm coming to realize that I didn't do the best job at incorporating more character interactions between the main cast of villains and Katherine, which I'm choosing to chalk up to writing this a while ago and setting the story up to move too fast to take time to see those interactions and relations. But with my excuses out of the way, hope you enjoy!

Content Warnings (will be announced by the chapter): Home invasion, I think? Let me know if I missed any.

Katherine spent the next two weeks more afraid than she had been since she first heard her parents speak about her quirk. Everyone who walked into her cubicle was an officer coming to question her. Every creak in her floor was a team of heroes waiting for her to come home so they could bring her in. She could barely relax enough to sleep.

“Heroes have caught the newest Stain copycat. Thanks to police collaboration with an anonymous source and the Rapids hero agency-” Katherine shut the news report from the day before off. She had seen the news explain the evidence used to track the villain, and the hero efforts that went into his capture. It was a lovely feeling, processing his paperwork.

The fear was beginning to wear off. If she had made it this long without being caught, it would probably be okay. That didn’t stop the guilt, though.

Sure, the man had tried to assault her. But what if he’d had a family? Had she taken him away from them? Were they worried? She’d never know. She’d cut his life short.

But she also felt a cold satisfaction in her achievement. She had kept herself safe. She had stopped an unchecked monster. And she had done it using her quirk. It wasn’t hero work, but how many young women had she saved by using her quirk? How much safer would people be, with that man gone?

She was lost in those thoughts, as she had been since her actions. A small chime went off on her still open computer, bringing Katherine back into the present. It was five o’clock. She had to go. She had another order to fill, and wanted to get started right away: the designs she had discussed with the customer were gorgeous, and impossibly intricate. She’d need all the time she could get for them.

She grabbed her bag, checking that she hadn’t left anything that needed to be brought home, before leaving the cubicle and starting the walk home. The setting sun painted the skyscrapers in a gorgeous orange hue, making it look like the buildings were burning, but without pain or fear. Her phone rang, much to her surprise. She dug the device from her bag and answered, holding it to her ear.

“Hello, Soroyan Katherine speaking, how may I help you?”

“Katherine, please, you’ve got to help me!” Lily practically screamed into Katherine’s ear through the phone. Katherine jerked it away from her ear for a moment, slowly bringing it back as she paused on the sidewalk.

“Please, Lily. Calm down. What happened?” she asked. She could hear Lily taking a deep breath on the other end of the line. Then another.

“Okay. So, you know those files I was supposed to sort? About the recent arrest?” Lily asked, anxiety clear in her shaking voice.

“Yeah, you were telling me about how you were happy to have such a big assignment.”

“Well, I brought them home earlier to work on them at home, so I could get it done early, and I brought them on a USB that I planned to bring back, but on the way some guy bumped into me and I dropped it and then he accidentally kicked it into the road, and-”

“Lily, hey, calm down. I’m on my way. What do you need me to do?” Katherine asked as she turned around, walking back to the agency. She was in for a late night, she knew. But she couldn’t just abandon Lily to do this on her own. She was supposed to be showing the new girl around, and she couldn’t say to herself that she’d done that if she walked away right now.

Shigaraki had done his job well enough, Dabi thought. Could have been a little less obvious about destroying those records, but it would definitely slow Katherine from coming home. That would give him plenty of time to get set up.

He, Toga, and Twice had been watching Katherine for two weeks now. Never again had they seen her use her quirk, even in her own home. She must have really trained herself out of using it. Dabi began planning how to get her to use her quirk. After all, she was of no use to them if she wouldn’t use it.

He signaled Kurogiri that he was ready to go, and the smoke-covered man opened a portal. Dabi stepped through, hands brushing against the rag and jar in his coat pockets. His foot hit the wooden floor just inside the front door, and he took a moment to look around.

 He’d seen the place from a distance, but had never actually been inside. He was standing in a small hallway. Two steps forward to the left was a small, clean bathroom. Across the hall from that was the bedroom. He quickly discounted both as hiding places for now.

A few paces past the bedroom the hallway opened into a large room, split into a neat kitchen on the left by a counter and a living room that led onto a small balcony to the right. Past the kitchen was a small table with two chairs. Up against a half-wall across from the table was a rolling chair and computer desk, missing only the laptop.

Traveling straight past the kitchen, dining table, and living room, Dabi came to two closed doors. One stood ahead of him, the other to his right. He opened the door in front of him, his hand coming away from the knob slightly dusty.

It was a guest bedroom, complete with a large window, double bed, and small dresser next to the bed. There was an attached bathroom with a conjoined shower and tub, as opposed to the bathroom in the entry hall with only a shower. It was the perfect place to hide, though Dabi wondered why Katherine hadn’t just taken this bedroom. It clearly didn’t see much use.

He walked out of the guest room, checking the last door he’d found. It was just a laundry closet: Washer and detergent on top, dryer on bottom, ironing board tucked into the little room on the side. With no more rooms to discover, he decided to do one last bit of research about Katherine.

The best place to start would be her actual bedroom, and he strolled right in like he owned the place. He was surprised to be met with an unmade bed and drawn blinds, seeing as how organized and bright everything else had been in the apartment.

Aside from the bed, pushed against the right wall with room on either side, there was a nightstand on the left side with a lamp, charger cord, and alarm clock. Across from the bed were two closets, and Dabi opened the nearest one quietly. No one might be home, but neighbors could still hear things through thin walls.

The first closet held nothing but clothes. A few business suits and casual outfits, two pairs of shoes, and a small dresser with three drawers. A small label on top simply labeled it as ‘UNDERGARMENTS’, and Dabi felt no need to look further. The second closet, though, was more interesting.

He opened it and found several sheaths for different kinds of blades, not a one of them empty. There were throwing stars, daggers, and swords of various cultures. Each one looked exquisite, and bore a tag near the hilt. They were all made by Katherine’s company, Sunēkuai Blades.

He picked up a sheath with throwing stars. They were shaped like a peach blossom, and barely sharp enough to cut butter. He set them down, intrigued by a long box held on a shelf above the other various weapons. He reached up, careful not to move things out of place too much, and pulled the box down.

Inside were photos upon photos. He saw images of a smiling girl with dark hair, clearly Katherine at a young age, and two others: a man and a woman. Her parents. They were all smiling, young Katherine holding a sign that read “It’s my first day of school!”

There were other things in the box, under all the photos. Dabi carefully moved the contents of the box around until he unearthed two katanas. One was in a simple brown sheath, the other in an intricate green and silver one. They had notes tied to them as well, and a picture. 

He picked up the plain katana, seeing a picture of a teenaged Katherine and her father in front of a smithy. Katherine looked sweaty in the photo, grinning and holding the very katana in Dabi’s hands. Her father was smiling behind her in pride, a hand behind her back in support. The note simply read “My first blade.” When Dabi opened the katana, he found it as sharp as anyone could ask for, if a bit clumsily made.

The second one was slightly lighter, and seemed to glint even in the dim light of the bedroom. He opened it to find it just as sharp as the first, but with some kind of green streak through it. Opening it the rest of the way, Dabi saw a green snake winding its way down the blade, seeming to spit the point from its fanged mouth. He carefully resheathed it, not wanting to leave a trace of himself if all of this somehow went south.

He glanced at the picture attached to the sheath. It was a picture of teenage Katherine, not much younger than the other photo, with her arm draped over another girl’s shoulder. This new girl had snakes for hair and unnerving yellow eyes with slit pupils. She was smiling alongside Katherine in a park, both dressed in a middle school uniform.

The note simply read, “For Sunēkuai. I think you would have liked this one. Rest well.”

Dabi put everything back almost reverently. A part of him wondered why he would bother. It wasn’t like she would notice, even if he somehow didn’t manage to get her. But he couldn’t bring himself to treat her memories with anything but respect. Perhaps it had something to do with the person herself.

As Dabi had looked through file after file on the young woman, everything had said that her quirk was mimicry. There were no files, or hints of files, that said otherwise. She had hidden her quirk from everybody, and doubtless faced ridicule for it. It spoke to her patience and resolve that she had never revealed herself, even when attempting to get into the hero course at various high schools.

Dabi shook the thoughts from his mind. He had a job to do. A job that would be made much easier if he got on with looking for information and preparing his hiding place. He closed the closet and strode from the room.

[amoc94]

INFATUATION

.

Pairing : Seokjin x female OC (from reader's POV).

Genre : Yandere

Warning : Depiction of murder, dead body, anal sex switching to vaginal, unprotected sex (don't do this guys).

Wordcount : 2.7K

.

Full Masterlist and elaborate warning please read here.

.

List of Chapters here.

Part 9 - Labyrinth

.

He used to have bad dreams before. Fragments of flashbacks haunting him like monster under the bed in those children movies.

Always there watching him, he couldn't see it, but could feel their presence.

Maybe it was true what they said.

One shouldn't have feeling nor compassion when live in a world like his. It was what made him weak.

However, it wasn't a nightmare when those vision appeared when he was awake.

Ghost from the past kept coming back the more he wanted to forget.

One scene after another replayed like a black and white movie disturbed him at the time when he should have relaxed and rested at night.

The dream stopped once he succesfully mastered meditation technique, doing caligraphy, and learned to focus at things in his life that he could control.

Sometimes it worked, other times it didn't.

Tonight, it came back.

It was as if he was thrown back to that day, one cold night when he found her body, lifeless and naked on the ugly worn carpeted floor in front of the bathroom.

Blood smeared all over tile on the tub, the fresh scars, and her face. It formed blurry shards in his memory that became vivid once it manifested again in his vision.

There was an electric shock in his brain, a result of his unconscious defense mechanism that disrupt the dream and jerked him awake with heavy breathing and profuse sweat.

Sitting up, he threw a glance around the dark room, the glowing digital clock next to the bed showed fifteen past 01.00 a.m.

He turned to look at Aerin sleeping soundly wearing a thin lace camisole with matching panties. The room was freezing cold from the air conditioner blasting to full fan speed.

Leaning to her side, he tugged the quilt to cover her to the chest, then got down from the bed, fixing the sash of his kimono.

Yellow halogen light from the balcony seeped through the thick curtain eased his steps as he walked outside, pushing the glass door to the open air.

He was welcomed with cool breeze from summernight, and the view overlooking the courtyard along with tranquil sound of running water at the pond.

As he looked over the round fullmoon on the sky he couldn't help but recalled that fateful day.

He never resented his past too much, even he always tried to run from it. In some way he believed that everything happened for a reason, what moulded him to the man he was now.

Meeting with Aerin had always been a dilemma for him, giving him choices too difficult to decide, it kept him restless. Being with a man like him would never been easy, he knew that, -yet he still took her in. Despite what happened with the last woman that connected to him, he still couldn't let her go.

The image of her dead body in the small hotel he owned, a building he almost forgot it was on his proprietary list. It was small and shabby, barely sustained its ongoing business. Seokjin was having the thought to sell it once he saw the condition.

The more so after he witnessed of how men could become monster worst than animal.

He almost couldn't recognize her. Her hair was matted with blood, face swollen and several broken ribs, scattered scar on her skin also marred with caked dried blood. Autopsy determined that she was tortured and raped before they killed her.

Those people didn't know who exactly they were messed with, thinking he was just a rich man easy to blackmail. Somehow they found out about Kyoko and thought that she was his girlfriend.

While in reality, she was just a fling to Seokjin.

A little too long to be associated in a non-commital relationship. Three months was way overdue, he had never been in a permanent relationship before. Girls came and went from his life, sometimes he couldn't even remember their names after a week or so.

But Kyoko was an annoying persistent gold digger, Seokjin had a hard time to put firm idea in her mind, that the so called relationship was only temporary, never meant to be.

He loved the way she could satisfy him in bed, wasn't bothered with her demand for gift and money here and there, but that was just about it. He broke up from her two weeks before the incident.

When the call came, with her voice on the phone pleading him to transfer a hundred million won to the kidnapper, he dismissed it as one of the stunt she pulled to gain his attention.

It wasn't the first time.

The last wile she did was when she pretended to get pregnant and demanded him to marry her or she would expose him out.

Until he called Hoseok to send a high qualified gynecologist to check on her and she admitted her ruse. He got her away in the end, on the expense of twenty million won.

They found her body two days after the call.

For Seokjin, the murder wasn't personal. His heart had long froze along with his conscience and moral sense.

It was more about a blow to his ego and reputation. Also a hit to his financials.

Her death tainted the hotel reputation even more, no one wanted to buy it when it was released on the market.

The gang that abducted her didn't know who he actually was, so he had to educate them.

And to make a bold statement that imprinted to his name and interspersed through the underworld, it meant someone needed to be sacrificed.

So he asked Red Dragon to execute the work. Many kkangpaes were in desperate need of money, it wasn't difficult to pay them to kill.

Red Dragon was an organized crime with tight alliance with the yakuza. Usually he would avoid to be involved with them, but this time, he needed someone to do the deed without tainting his own hand.

They decided to mark the target on the youngest son of the gang leader, who was sixteen years old at the time.

His corpse was hanged over utility pole in the middle of busy street in Jongno, slashed on the neck, carved with Seokjin's name in hanja on his back.

It was all over the news and the NPA was in chaos trying to find the connection between a petty gang member with one of the most affluent businessman in South Korea.

Before they decided that Seokjin was likely their next target and needed to be protected instead. Same message interpreted differently, but either way it was all on his favor.

It was too big of a risk he was initially very hesitant to take especially to bump shoulder with the authority, but Jimin convinced him it was what needed to send the message across the crime world.

Don't mess with Kim Seokjin.

They might think they were powerful in their own world, but ultimately money speaks louder than any weapon.

He closed his eyes and breathed the night air, trying to get rid of the memory once again. The quiet night was usually the time he dreaded the most, when his conscious mind was at the loudest.

Always blamed himself with so many 'if only'.

Walking back to his room, he watched the woman that had occupied his room and his thought everyday since the first time he met her.

She was his salvation.

Whenever he was losing his mind, somehow her presence could bring back the sobriety he needed from time to time.

He climbed the bed and reaching to her sleeping form, gently removed the blanket.

Wrapping his arm around her shoulder, he pulled her closer. Then he dipped in the crook of his neck, kissing on the skin softly, inhaling her scent.

There was a soft sigh escaped from her lips when she finally stirred awake, eyes slowly fluttered open and blinked at him in confusion.

"Jin ...oppa?"

"Sshh, ... you can continue to sleep. I just need something to hug."

He liked that she never changed her shampoo even when now she could afford more expensive brand.

He could tell her presence only by her scent alone.

"Something? I'm not a doll ...Oppa."

She chuckled, her lips was succulent pink and Seokjin could never be satisfied in tasting her.

"You are one very beautiful doll."

He slipped the camisole off of her, started to rain kisses on her naked chest.

Her nipple were perked up, he took it in his mouth and rolled it in his lips.

"Jin Oppa ..."

He was near her collarbone before the bruise on her left forearm caught his attention.

"What is this?"

She looked at him in bewilderment, then gazed at her arm.

"Ah, that ... I was late in tackling the attack, and Jimin managed to strike on my arm."

He hummed in response, carresing the purple bluish mark.

"It's your second training right? Should I ask him to wait until you recover?"

"No ... it's okay. I mean, you said it yourself, I need it for self defense, right?"

"That's my good girl."

He put her other nipple between his lips and started to suck.

She moaned loud when he licked the engorged buds alternately, biting and sucking in ryhthm.

He moved his fingers to her panties, ripping the fabric and threw it to the floor.

"Oppa, that's not cheap."

"Then buy another dozen."

He dipped two fingers inside her folds, while his lips sucked on her clit.

He liked to hear her moaned his name, running her fingers on his hair, demanded him to continue.

It was probably her scent that got him addicted to her, or maybe the way she tasted on his tongue, like some kind of pheromones.

He unknotted the sash of his kimono, and take of his boxer.

Stroking his cock several times until he saw the clear precum on the tip, he guided the head on her entrance and push it in one thrust.

She screamed again, this time there was pain in her voice. It usually took longer for him with the ministrations, but he needed the euphoric effect of the sex.

Fucking her was like narcotic for him, killed the pain and helped him creating another illusion. The stained glass of how he wanted his life to be.

"Show me how a good girl you are Aerin, and I will reward you accordingly."

His thrust turned rapid in no time, blood rushing all the way down to his core, numbing the pain he felt everytime he lost in the memory of his past.

He felt her muscle clenching around his cock, his lips moaning dirty curses when the head of his cock hit the right spot in her walls sending blinding effect in his vision.

His orgasm was nearing, but then he couldn't leave her without giving her release.

"Have you ... ever tried anal sex before?"

The words caught her in shock when she looked at him.

"Anal ... you mean from behind? Does it hurt?"

Seokjin kissed her forehead before spoke in low voice near her ear.

"It hurt only in the beginning, but then you will feel a different kind of pleasure. Besides ..." he carresed her cheek. The blush on her cheekbones made her looked younger than she actually was.

" ... you need to learn to handle the pain."

'Especially because you are my woman'

Kyoko's bloody face flashed in his mind and he abruptly turned her over, trying to rid the vision.

He helped her to be on her four, holding her hips to keep her in position.

He could feel his urgent need to cum but he decided he couldn't be selfish.

He spat on his two fingers, and rubbed it on her puckered hole. The mucles contracted in reflex upon the stimulation and his cock twitched over the view.

"Do you think you can handle it, baby? Or ... do you want me to stop?"

He couldn't see her face under the veil of her hair, and almost thought she would give up.

But she shook her head instead.

"No ... I ... I want to try. You said ... you will reward me?"

Seokjin smirked in satisfaction, his little fawn was getting smarter with each passing day of her living with him.

He plunged his fingers inside her ass, expanding the tight hole to prepare for the penetration.

It would hurt indeed, but she needed to get used to it.

He spat another glob of saliva to lubricate, and added another finger inside her.

"I'm going in, baby. Just tell me if you want me to stop now."

She shook her head again. Along the time living with her, he had learned that 'stubborn' was her middle name.

He positioned his cock on her, using his fingers to expand the tight hole.

Then in one powerful thrust, he went in completely.

Her scream was high pitched, echoing through the room, and Seokjin felt another delicious shock of arousal spread through his whole body.

He always had pain kink, he had restrained himself for so long not to hurt her more than she could handle.

When he started to move his hip, her cries turned to moan and they finally found the synchronized movement together.

"Yes ... oh god ..."

"You like it, doll? You want me to go faster?"

She nodded frantically while trying to keep her balance.

Seokjin tried his best to hold his release, keeping a stable pace while pounding into her, her juices became the much needed lubrication.

Until at some point he couldn't hold it anymore.

He pulled out abruptly, then slammed his cock inside her pussy, continuing to thrust in urgent speed.

They came together in the end, her body convulsed beneath him while his cock stiffened shooting a string of cum inside her walls.

He inhaled deep to catch his breathing, waiting until the haze dissipated.

He moved his hip once again, trying to prolong the sensation and milk himself dry.

When he finally pulled out from her, he hugged her from behind, laying down on the bed.

He carresed the skin on her shoulder blade where his name was permanently carved.

"This is very beautiful, like you."

He kissed the mark, there was a sensation of peace everytime he saw the scar.

"Your stamp of ownership, right ... Oppa?"

There was a hint of mocking tone in her voice, but he couldn't see her face to know for sure.

"I was going to say -stamp of protection, but ... I like the idea of ownership."

He heard her scoffed, and it sounded so cute coming from her.

"Protect me? From what? And how a scar can protect me?"

"I want to say, you will know someday. But, I definitely don't want something happened to you just to prove me right."

He could feel her relaxed form, a sign that she was about to fall asleep.

Seokjin kissed her temple, he felt overwhelmingly calm and at peace. It was the effect she brought on him every after he made love to her.

"Hmm, but how do I get rid of it when we break up later? Can I do the laser removal?"

Her words got him stilled in surprise, he lightly turned her over to face him.

"Why do you think about breaking up?"

"I don't think I can live like this in the long run. I want to work, Oppa. Like I used to before. It's getting bored doing nothing while you are at work. I need to busy myself."

He cuckled while patted softly on her hair.

"Oh Aerin... I never knew that you don't like to live like a princess. I'll think of something, ok? We better sleep now."

She nodded and looked away, letting him to embrace her from the back.

She was just too adorable sometimes. So cute and oblivious.

It was one of the reason why he fell in love with her.

"Btw, ... Aerin?"

"Mmh?"

She mumbled in a soft voice, almost drifting to sleep.

"Don't talk about breaking up, okay?"

She probably didn't hear it, when he got no response from her.

But he wasn't worried.

She wasn't going to leave him, because he would never let her.

.

Part 10

[mischievouswritingblog]

A Twist of Fate

I’ve been wanting to continue or revamp this fic for a long time but at the moment I’m a bit stuck. Being that I’m working on a Pathfinder 2e Campaign based on World of Warcraft, I ended up thinking about this fic a lot and I decided to reshare it.

Here’s the first chapter and a link to the fic on AO3. It’s a long one, be warned.

-o-o-o-o-o- Chapter 1: Lucky Number 13     A rough jolt from the wagon shook Khadgar awake. He blinked a few times before he looked up at the night sky. How long had he slept? 

“Hey spell-chucker, is the cargo alright back there?” the dwarven driver called back to him. “I didn’t give ya a discount outta the goodness of me heart!”

Khadgar was squished between large sacks of potatoes and a crate holding bottles of ale. It was uncomfortable, the scratchy burlap of the potato sacks rubbed against exposed skin. The wooden create gave him no room to adjust himself. He did his best to look over the other various bits and bobs of cargo. “Nothing seems damaged, sir.” 

“Good, keep it that way!” the driver ordered. “I’m gonna pick up the pace!” He swung his whip and cracked it loudly. 

“Please don’t!” Khadgar’s body roughly jerked as the wagon sped up. Desperately he clung to its side as his frightened scream echoed out into the night. 

Deadwind Pass had earned its name for good reason. Its paths and trails winded through thick trees and along the faces of steep cliffs. It was all too easy for travelers whether on foot or carriage to fall to their doom into rushing rivers far below. Had Khadgar not hitched a ride with a traveling merchant who was familiar with the area, it would have been his own fate. 

Yet humans were a stubborn species, people still found a way to populate the area. To Khadgar’s surprise, he would spot the occasional house or two nestled among the greenery. Just how they could stand being surrounded by such dangerous heights was beyond him. Even crossing the simple stone bridges made the young mage’s stomach do flips. 

“Look alive, kid!” said the driver of the wagon, his sudden bark made Khadgar jump. “We’re gettin’ close to Karazhan.” 

The wagon rattled along the road as it made its way around a bend. It tilted dangerously close to toppling over the edge but slammed back down onto the road. The cargo and passenger were jostled but miraculously everything managed to stay intact. Khadgar was treated to a good view of one of Azeroth's moons. But his admiration didn’t last long, as his eyes were drawn to something else. Standing above the rock formations and thick wilds of Deadwind was a tower. Bathed in moonlight, it gave off a haunting presence. A proud monolith that stood above everything else, it felt as though Khadgar were being watched by it. A number of lit windows were sign that there was life in the tower. 

Khadgar jumped when the wagon hit a bump that shook the entire thing. He held his satchel to his chest as though it could do more than barely shield him. It had been a long and rough trip. Khadgar had at first thought the worst was behind him after having to sail Menethil Harbor (his fear of deep water did him no favors). Only to find that there was still a long way to go, trekking through wetlands and on the road until he could hitch a ride with caravans kind enough to take on a fledgling ‘spell chucker’. Not to mention the drastic changes in climates, from the mild weather of Lordaeron to the bitter chill of Dun Morogh, to the heat of the southern lands of Stormwind. 

It was difficult and there were plenty of times where Khadgar wished he could turn back. But that wasn’t an option for him. He had no means of going back home, certainly not enough money. The trip down the continent was dangerous enough as it was. No, he couldn’t go back, he needed to be accepted or…

The sound of rattling drew Khadgar’s eyes to the bottles of ale. His eyes grew wide as he watched the valuable cargo begin to bubble within. Khadgar reached out to stop it but a small static-like zap of arcane energy made him pull his hand away. The young mage scooted away from the crate and wrapped his arms around himself.

“Stop it, Khadgar...” he whispered to himself. Khadgar took a deep breath through his nose and released it as a sigh. “You need to calm down.” 

“Here’s where ye get off, kid!” the driver said as the wagon began to slow down. 

It wasn’t long before they came to a full halt. Khadgar looked up at the driver, thankful that he could leave before anything exploded. He snatched up his satchel and climbed out of the cart. Khadgar thanked the driver as he pulled out a coin purse and paid a few coins of what little money he had left. 

The dwarf driver counted the coins before pocketing them. “Now listen, jus’ keep following the road and ye will wind up right in Karazhan. It’s jus’ a little ways from here so ye should make it there before it gets too late. Keep a good pace, nasty things prowl in these parts at night.”

Khadgar looked out at the road ahead of him, he gripped the leather strap of his satchel before he began to walk. Luckily the area wasn’t completely dark. a small mining station by the mouth of a cave provided a little light. It was A small comfort but not enough for Khadgar to relax. He was still far away from the only home he had ever known.

Admittedly, it was his own fault.

Curiosity was considered both a valuable trait and horrible vice of magi. It was what spurred them to learn and experiment with the magical arts, to push the boundaries of what was possible. Of course, there were also downsides, mages that pushed ethics aside just to see what would happen. It urged some to see if they could bind and control fantastic beasts or even raise the dead. Such attempts never ended well.

Khadgar attempted no such things, he followed most of the rules placed upon him by the Kirin Tor. Laws and regulations were engraved into him at a young age, like the brand of the violet eye on his left arm. The problem with Khadgar was that he was born with curiosity that had an insatiable appetite. Often he'd find trouble searching for the truth behind rumors or peeking at restricted areas or tomes. 

Most students would focus their hunger for knowledge to texts and study. Khadgar would experiment with ways to make his snooping easier. He designed tools like a mechanical cricket that would chirp to warn him of powerful magics and wards. He also designed a small spell to enhance his hearing. Picking locks and undoing seals were a hobby to him like crossword puzzles were to others. There were many nighttime ventures around the Violet Citadel. Hunting for anything that would feed his gluttonous curiosity. It was how Khadgar found quite a few dirty little secrets that the Kirin Tor wanted kept quiet. 

Many were harmless, perhaps a little embarrassing, like the Chief Artificer’s weakness for flamewine. Others were more far more scandalous and could tarnish a reputation. Like Korrigan, the Violet Citadel's librarian, and his fascination with demon worshipers and their practices. Or Lady Delth and her fondness for young men a mere fraction of her age. 

Given Lady Delth’s status (both marriage and society wise), Khadgar suspected it was his stumbling onto one of her affairs that was the last straw. The next thing he knew, Khadgar was suddenly selected for a ‘great honor’. He was to go to a place called Karazhan, to learn under ‘The Great Magus Medivh’. Not that Khadgar had ever heard of such a mage.

Doing a little digging he learned that ‘Medivh Aran’ was a hedge-mage, that on its own was incredibly strange. Such magi suffered from a lack of discipline and restraint when not watched by the violet eye of the Kirin Tor. Usually, they would always meet some grisly demise brought by their own hubris. Stories of rogue wizards bringing castles down upon themselves or blowing themselves to bits were a staple in classes of young mages-to-be. The moral of such tales always the same: ‘Never go out on your own, never take the guidance of the Kirin Tor for granted.’

Yet Medivh was an anomaly. He was the very thing the Kirin Tor frowned upon but they appeared to respect the man. So why was there so little information about the magus? There were scraps and bits that Khadgar tried to cobble together into a cohesive picture. 

In one text Medivh was credited for simplifying many complex spells (the names of which were missing). There was also a letter that noted the magus had observed a fascinating phenomenon in the stars. Other bits and pieces Khadgar managed to find were filled with a mishmash of claims that clashed horribly. There was mention of Medivh being a skilled engineer, one professor said that he studied exotic animals, and in one note the magus was called a ‘patron of the arts’. Generous, selfish, kind, cruel, genius, half mad, difficult taskmaster, a man that just didn’t give a damn, all these used to describe Medivh. None of it made a lick of sense.

It was aggravating since it only served to fuel Khadgar’s hungry curiosity even more.

Upon reaching the land where the tower stood Khadgar was surprised to see that there was a village surrounding the base. He could see a number of Houses, an inn, a marketplace, and a small church. It was a strange place for a village, hidden away by the surrounding woods and mountains. Almost as though it were dropped there by some spell went awry. Perhaps it was. 

Khadgar could feel something strange in the air. A presence that made the hairs of the back of his neck stand on end. There was a lot of magic in the land itself, he could feel it flowing through the earth under his feet. If Khadgar stood and focused, he felt energies coursing in the ground beneath his feet. It was like many surging rivers meeting at and flowing from that point. 

But it wasn’t the time to focus on such things. As Khadgar walked through the streets and towards the tower, he opened his satchel and pulled out his letter of introduction. The purple wax seal of the violet eye stared back at him. Like him, the letter had reached its destination, it felt heavy, perhaps more so than the day it was handed to him. It felt like he was holding his own future in his hands. In a sense, he very well was and that was terrifying. 

A small sound suddenly caught Khadgar’s attention, his gaze was drawn to the window of a nearby house. His eyes widened as he saw the glass of the window was cracking. Khadgar felt his stomach twist into a knot before picking up his pace, mentally begging his magic stay in control. He couldn’t afford to his magic lash out, not now of all times. Khadgar tried to calm himself by taking in deep breaths but it was all too soon that he found himself standing before the main doors of the tower. 

Khadgar felt his heart pounding harder in his rib cage as he stared up at the large, imposing building before him. In the dark of the night, it looked almost sinister, even the moon that hung high in the sky felt like it was judging him. It was getting harder to breathe as his chest felt tighter with each passing second. Khadgar swallowed trying to force his emotions down as he raised a shaky hand to knock on the large wooden door. 

A loud explosion shook the tower from far above. Khadgar looked up just in time to see falling, shattered glass heading right for him. The young mage scrambled to get out of the way and managed to do so just in time. Sharp pieces of colored glass rained down right where he had been standing. Had he not moved when he did Khadgar would have ended up a bloodied mess. 

“What in light’s name was that…?” Khadgar thought aloud, a bit shaken. He looked up and saw smoke flowing out from one of the windows of the tower. He could have sworn he heard the distant sound of someone yelling obscenities. 

The door of the tower then opened with a loud groan and squeak of its hinges. Khadgar looked and found himself staring at a tall, slender gentleman that reminded him a little of a weasel. The man’s hair was dark brown, reaching just above his shoulders and well kept. He was dressed in fine red and black suit. But the detail that took away from his immaculate appearance was that he was wearing horse’s blinders. 

Khadgar watched as the man who had brought a broom and dustpan began to clean up the glass. It was then he found his voice and spoke up. “U-um, e-excuse me, sir…?” 

At first, the man in red didn’t respond. It was after another attempt of Khadgar trying to get his attention he looked up at him. His eyes scanned over the youth, his face was a mask of pure of boredom. It was hard to tell what he was thinking as he looked the mageling over. The man then made the slightest frown before he finally spoke. “I take it you have business here?” 

Khadgar caught himself staring and scrambled to hand the man his letter of introduction. “Khadgar.” 

The man in red gave a confused blink before he eyed the letter but made no move to take it. Instead, he looked up at the boy with a quirked eyebrow. 

“Of Dalaran.” Khadgar abruptly continued. “Khadgar of Dalaran, in the Kingdom of Lordaeron.” His face grew hot the more he talked. Words surged forward like a broken faucet. “I was sent by the Kirin Tor. In the Violet Citadel. In Dalaran. In Lordaeron.” The mageling's voice went higher in pitch with each sentence as embarrassment engulfed him. 

“I see...” the man in red said before the slightest hint of a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Well, Khadgar of the Kirin Tor, in the Violet Citadel, in Dalaran, in Lordaeron, I am Moroes. I’m the tower steward and Castellan of Karazhan.” 

“Castellan…?” Khadgar blinked and looked around at the town surrounding the tower. “That’s like a governor, isn’t it?” 

“Hmm, awfully astute of you...” Moroes said in a mild sarcastic tone. He then set the dustpan and broom aside and clasped his hands behind his back. “Yes, Master Medivh owns the tower and the land surrounding it. It’s my job to keep things in ship shape and running while he performs his duties.” 

Khadgar blinked, his eyes widened a little. “Is the magus a nobleman?” 

Moroes gave a small shrug. “He is, but the most the Master calls himself is an ‘over glorified landlord’.”

“I-I see...” Khadgar said. “M-may I meet with him?”

Moroes he reached into his pocket and took out a pocket watch. With a click, it opened and he looked at the time. “Hmm, it’s not ungodly late yet, I suppose it should be fine.” Moroes snapped the watch closed and slipped it in his pocket. “Perhaps a visitor will put him off working on that mechanical monstrosity late into the night.” 

Khadgar eyes were drawn up towards the broken window far above. He couldn’t help but wonder about the explosion from earlier. A loud clearing of the throat brought his attention back to Moroes, who was waiting for him in the doorway. 

“Did you want to come in or do you wish to sleep under the stars tonight?” asked the Castellan, his voice never losing its ‘ho-hum’ tone. 

Khadgar jumped slightly then followed him through the door. With his first step inside the tower, Khadgar felt goosebumps rise from his skin. There was an odd presence to his new surroundings, time itself felt strange as if it slowed for a moment. 

Khadgar followed Moroes while allowing his eyes to drink in every detail they could. He saw carvings of horses that lined the higher parts of the walls that led to the entrance of what appeared to be stables. A loud clearing of the throat from Moroes urged Khadgar to hurry his pace. They passed through a crafted stone archway; Khadgar's boots thumped heavily against marble stairs that led to a ballroom. 

“Master Medivh is up in his study, we’ll be taking the servants’ shortcuts to get there in quicker time.” Moroes explained as he looked over his shoulder to Khadgar. “So please try to keep up, the last thing you’d want is to get lost here.” 

“Yes, sir!” Khadgar said while walking faster. 

Keeping up with Moroes was easier said than done. As soon as the pair slipped into the servants’ passageways the Castellan moved at a brisk pace. Khadgar was surprised such a lanky looking man could move so gracefully. The man glided across the floor like a specter, his movements fluid and soundless. 

The servants’ passages were hidden and had no windows. After all, nobody wanted to see servants; perhaps nobody wanted to see the young mage either. The walls around them were winding and terribly narrow, claustrophobic. Khadgar followed Moroes around corners and up and down stairs. The layout of the passageways made no sense; it shouldn’t have been possible. It left Khadgar feeling disoriented. At one point he lost sight of the lanky man. Khadgar’s gut twisted in a panic until he spied the flick of a coattail from around a corner. With a sprint, he desperately tried to catch up. It almost seemed the Castellan was secretly trying to lose him. To leave the young mage lost and left to wander in a maze until his death. 

The horrifying thought was cut short when Khadgar rammed into Moroes’ back. He stumbled back a bit and saw the Castellan was waiting for him next to a door. 

Moroes dusted himself off before opening the door. “This way.” 

Khadgar hurried out of the passageway and was greeted by the sight of a balcony. He walked towards the railing and his eyes grew wide at the sight of an incredible library down below. Its size shouldn’t have been possible yet there it was. There were different levels with walls lined with bookshelves. Large tapestries that hung between windows emblazoned with fantastic beasts and mythic figures. The floors were decorated with an elegant pattern of star-like shapes and circles. Looking up Khadgar saw more balconies and bridges that led to a number of rooms and different sections. He felt a strong urge to go see what was up there but he had to reign his curiosity in, he needed to focus. 

Moroes led Khadgar to another, more discreet door, opened it and allowed the young mage inside. “This is Master Medivh’s personal study, pardon the mess.” 

The study had two levels to it, an upper level that had a display of a number of planets that surrounded a gigantic, moving astrolabe. Khadgar stared at it in awe before his gaze moved upward to thousands of small, glittering lights that floated above the display. His jaw fell slack when he realized that it was a map of the stars. Khadgar had never seen anything like it in Dalaran, not even in the Violet Citadel. 

“Close your mouth, you’re not a codfish.” Moroes chided while continuing ahead. 

Khadgar followed Moroes down into the lower level of the study. It certainly looked much more ‘lived in’ compared to the upper level. While still beautiful with the continued motif stars and planets it was much less tidy. The young mage noticed various books stacked about on tables, shelves, and even the floor. Khadgar’s keen eye caught some of the titles. While there were texts on magic and science, they were mixed in with fiction books. He recognized titles of adventure novels, dramas, romance and...erotica. There was a shameless collection of smutty books that were kept together in their own little area of the study. 

“An...avid reader, I take it?” Khadgar asked before he looked at Moroes, not wanting to lose the man. 

“Yes, of various things.” Moroes said as he continued to lead the boy through the room. 

There were other details stood out to Khadgar. On one table was a chess set, next to it were playing cards, dice and hearthstone board that was left half open. There was a large, comfortable looking couch that obviously served as a bed. On it rested a plush animal, some sort of black bird. It looked soft, large enough that it could serve as a pillow, and well loved. An item of comfort from a time when life was much more simple. Khadgar had a favorite plush when he was a child as well. Though his was taken from him when his caregivers thought him too old to have such things. 

“Over here, young man.” Moroes stood before a large wooden door, he beckoned Khadgar over before turning to face it. “This door leads to the Master’s lab, he’s shut himself in here all evening.” 

Khadgar noticed that there were effigies of ravens carved into the door. Their eyes, that looked almost a little too real, felt like they were locked onto him. 

Moroes reached for the door’s latch but suddenly paused. His brow knit together in a small frown as he looked at it suspiciously. Raising his hand, Moroes pressed the back of his hand against the door. “Stand back...” 

“What? Why?” Khadgar asked as he took a few steps away. 

Moroes didn’t answer, instead he pulled a large handkerchief from his breast pocket and wrapped it around his hand. He took hold of the door’s handle and carefully pulled it open. From within the lab came the roar of flames and a wave of intense heat that made Khadgar reel back. 

It was like the door led straight into a dragon’s den. Khadgar threw his arm up to protect his eyes. The light within the room burned like hellfire, angry and ruthless. If he squinted, Khadgar could make out the silhouette of a man within the room. He blinked and winced at how his eyes ached, who could bare being in such heat? 

The flames from within the room started to die down. The cool air from the rest of the study was a much-needed relief. After a few blinks, Khadgar could finally see the man in the lab clearly. They were tall, dressed in a loose-fitting shirt, a pair of trousers, and oddly no shoes on his feet. Their long, raven hair was tied back into a messy tail and a pair of work goggles shielded his eyes. 

But what made Khadgar nervous was the fact the strange man was wielding a lit welding torch. It’s flame burned so bright that it hurt one’s eyes to look at it directly. The magical energy that radiated from it made Khadgar suspect that the tool was meant to imitate a dragon’s fire. 

The torch-wielding man looked up at the clockwork golem. “Curator, how are you holding up? Didn’t fry anything too badly, did I?” 

“Checking systems...” the golem spoke, much to Khadgar’s surprise. Its gears turned and the runes carved in its metal frame glowed dimly. “Language circuits received minor heat damage. Speech functions are still operational. However, the wrong blueberries may get used from time to butterscotch.” 

After the heat died down Moroes walked into the study, motioning for the fledgling mage to follow. With a loud 'hurrumph' he caught the man’s attention. Moroes then spoke in a stern, commanding tone that made Khadgar jump. “Master Medivh, you have a guest!” 

“Huh?” Medivh looked at them, his head canting in a bird-like way. “Oh!”

The magus set the blowtorch aside on a worktable. A number of burns and stains of dirt and sweat marred his clothing, it all smelled of oil and metal. Khadgar noticed that aside from the goggles and gloves, Medivh wasn’t wearing much else for protection at all. 

“None too scorched I hope...” Medivh pushed up his work goggles to rest atop his head. His eyes were forest green, dark circles under them was the telltale sign that the magus was lacking sleep. Yet his eyes still held a certain shine in them that contrasted to the rest of Medivh’s dirty face. 

“Not as bad as your gloves.” Moroes said while resting his hands on his hips. “Speaking of which, one of them is on fire.” 

“What?” Medivh looked at his work gloves and sure enough one of them had caught fire. Startled, the magus gasped before pulling the glove off and throwing it to the ground. “Gah! Damn it! You’d think ‘flame-resistant gloves’ would do as the name implies and actually resist flames!” 

The golem, or ‘curator’ as Medivh called it, moved its arm in a convulsive motion and pointed it at the magus. With a loud ‘clang’ a nozzle popped out of a compartment in its wrist. “Fire threat detected. Extinguishing.” 

Medivh looked at the curator and threw up his hands in a poor attempt to shield himself. “Wait, stop! No! No! N--” 

Lines on the curator’s frame began to glow. Much like a mage, it gathered moisture from the air, converted it into water and sprayed its master. The fire was put out but Medivh had been thrown right off his feet. 

“The fire has been extinguished.” the curator announced, sounding rather pleased with itself. “Master Medivh is safe.” 

Medivh was sprawled out on the floor. With an effort he sat himself up and coughed, spitting up some water. “Yes, you saved me.” Medivh said before coughing once more. “You’ve earned yourself a rest, take a nap Curator.” 

“Understood, entering ‘sleep mode’. Goodnight.” the curator announced. It slumped forward before its gears stopped turning and became little more than a clockwork statue. 

“Shall I go fetch Doc?” Moroes asked. 

“No, no, I’m fine. All that’s hurt is my pride.” Medivh said with a raised hand to wave the offer off. Carefully, he climbed back onto his feet and looked down at his soaked clothing. “A towel would be nice though.” 

“That and some dry clothes.” Moroes added before marching towards a wardrobe. “You’ll catch your death gallivanting around like that.” 

“Yes, yes, Mother Hen.” Medivh rolled his eyes before taking hold of his long, dark hair and wrung out the water. Without another word, he begun to undress, not caring that a stranger was in the room watching him. 

Khadgar stood flabbergasted, his mouth agape while his face flushed at the boldness of this strange man. His eyes couldn’t look away while the magus shed his clothing, acting like the fledgling mage didn’t even exist. Khadgar's mind scrambled to put together the puzzle set before him. There was no way this was Medivh Aran. There had to be a mistake. Perhaps a large, elaborate joke at Khadgar's expense. This man was far too disorderly to command such respect from his fellow magi. 

Moroes returned with a towel and fresh set of clothes for his master. He glanced at Khadgar and saw the boy was gawking. With a roll of his eyes, Moroes reached over and gently lifted the boy’s chin and closed his mouth. “What did I tell you earlier? Stop impersonating a fish.” 

Medivh sauntered towards the pair. The young mage could feel himself being picked apart as the magus quietly studied him. His eyes came to an abrupt halt at the thick, white stripe in the boy’s hair. “Is that some sort of fashion trend?” 

Khadgar’s face flushed red before he covered the streak of white with his hand. Being teased for having a ‘skunk’s stripe’ since childhood had made him embarrassed about it. “No, sir.” 

“Who are you?” Medivh sniffed and wiped his nose before taking the towel Moroes offered him. He took a moment to wipe the oil and dirt from his face before drying himself off. 

“My name’s Khadgar, sir...” Khadgar spoke up. His eyes started to trail down the older mage’s body. 

If he had to guess, Medivh had to be in his early to mid-thirties which was young by mage standards. It was strange that the Kirin Tor would be so insistent that someone Medivh's age should take an apprentice. Khadgar couldn't stop himself from continuing to study the older man's body. Dare he think it, the magus wasn't unpleasant to look at. He couldn't deny that Medivh was attractive but what stood out the most was that his skin was marred with numerous scars. Some were old and fading while others looked much newer and eerily fresh. Many of them had a certain viciousness that couldn't have been from backfiring experiments. 

"Battle scars...?" Khadgar muttered to himself. His gaze continued to move even lower before his face flushed hotly as it blushed red. He immediately forced himself to look away. 

“And what business do you have with me?” Medivh asked while starting to redress himself. The young mage then shoved the letter of introduction at him almost hitting the magus in the chest. The wax seal of the violet eye stared back at Medivh, almost tauntingly so. A look of disgust spread across his face as if the boy just handed him a cockroach. 

“My name is Khadgar I’ve-” 

“Been sent by the Kirin Tor.” Medivh finished for him in a blunt drawl. Without another word, he plucked the envelope from Khadgar’s hand and walked towards the study’s fireplace. He gave the envelope a brief look before tossing it into the hungry flames. 

Khadgar made a loud, strangled whine that caught Medivh and Moroes off guard. The two watched as the boy turned deathly pale as his future went up in smoke. Lab equipment that sat on a nearby worktable began to rattle violently. One of the glass beakers was knocked off of it by an unseen force and shattered when it hit the ground. 

Medivh looked at the broken glass on the floor, then to the shattered window of his lab. He frowned as he quietly contemplated something before turning to face Moroes. “Is the boy ill?” 

“Perhaps worn out.” the Castellan said with a slight shrug. “We took some shortcuts and it may have left him a tad winded.” 

“Th-the letter!” Khadgar finally managed to form words. 

“What of it?” Medivh asked, his tone cold. “Oh, wait, let me guess what it says!” he cleared his throat before speaking gracefully but laced with sarcasm. “‘Great Magus Medivh, Lord of Karazhan, we send you greetings from the Kirin Tor, the magical authority of Dalaran, the adviser to kings, protectors, preservers, and teachers of the magical arts…blah, blah, blah, you get the gist, right? They always fluff up their own importance before getting to what they want.” 

“I-I wouldn’t know, I was told not to read it.” Khadgar said. 

“But you did, didn’t you?” Medivh challenged him, his eyes took on a slight glow. He looked dangerous, like a cat about to toy with a mouse. “Granted, I would too if I was sent all the way out here from Lordaeron,” Medivh smirked. “I’ll admit that you’re clever, I almost missed that the seal was tampered with.” 

Khadgar swallowed. “How did you know what it said though?” 

“Magic, of course!” Medivh said as a wolf-like grin flashed across his face. “As soon as I touched it the words just flowed into my brain.” 

“...Really?” Khadgar asked, a little uncertain. 

“Of course not, that’s just silly!” Medivh said before laughing. “No, the fact is, you’re not the first one the Kirin Tor has sent to me. I’ve read that damned letter plenty of times already.” 

Khadgar’s hand pressed against his stomach when he felt it twist, he felt sick. “H-how...How many have they sent…?” 

“Hmm, let’s see, you are...” Medivh made a show of looking thoughtful. “Oh my, you’re lucky number thirteen, fancy that!” 

Khadgar’s heart grew heavy and began to sink like a stone. He had no illusions that his sudden assignment was for his accomplishments as a student. But this felt cruel. “Th-thirteen…?” 

“Yes, so to commemorate the occasion we’ll avoid all the hassle your predecessors went through.” Medivh said as though it were a benevolent act. “I’m not ready to take on an apprentice and I want your masters to stop harassing me.” 

“N-no, wait, I-I…Y-you don't understand!” the words tumbled from Khadgar’s mouth as panic washed over him like a tidal wave. “Sir, please! I don’t have any means of going back!” 

“If you wasted your funds like an idiot, that’s your problem, not mine.” Medivh said while waving a hand, like shooing the issue away like a pesky fly. 

“I didn’t waste anything! I was barely given enough to get here!” Khadgar snapped, he felt power behind his words and a short gust of wind. He tried to reign himself in immediately but saw the wind had blown against the magus. 

Khadgar may as well had made an offending gesture at Medivh. The older mage glared at him, his green eyes became venomous. He called arcane power to one of his hands forming a crackling ball of violet light in his palm. Khadgar backed away but before the magus could throw it at him Moroes stepped in his path. 

“Medivh, calm yourself.” the Castellan drawled in a stern tone. He acted as though he weren’t in the way of a deadly spell. Perhaps he simply didn’t care, it was hard to tell since Moroes’ face was an aloof mask. He stood his ground and didn't flinch while Medivh scrambled to stop himself from striking the servant. “Are you really going to drench your hands with the blood of a child?” 

“It doesn’t help that the so-called 'child' is walking powder keg!” Medivh snapped while glaring at Moroes. Regardless, the Castellan stood firm and unfazed, he simply gave a firm stare of his own. A look that was reminiscent of a parent when they scolded an ornery brat. A silent minute passed before Medivh's eyes finally softened, his gaze shifted back to Khadgar. “You have a hard time controlling your emotions, don’t you?” 

Khadgar swallowed and broke eye contact. “...S-sometimes, sir. But I'm-” 

“And that can make for volatile magic." Medivh interrupted him. "Quite dangerous to yourself and others should you never learn to control yourself.” He crossed his arms over his chest and looked cautiously curious. “Is that why they sent you to me? They thought I’d take you on as a challenge or something?” 

Khadgar huffed out an irritated sigh. “Maybe you would have known if you hadn’t burned the letter.” 

Medivh gave a befuddled blink. He looked like someone had slapped him in the face. Both mages caught the sound of a loud snort that escaped Moroes before he turned away from them. Khadgar noticed the servant trembling, he could have sworn he heard a small, stifled laugh.��

“I...I-I...Well, that’s!...Th-the letter...” Medivh’s retort died into silence. He eyed the fireplace while trying to think of an argument. A moment passed before the corner of Magus’ mouth twitched and formed into an amused smirk. “Huh, well I’ll be damned, you actually got me!" He broke out into a hearty laugh. It echoed throughout his lab and lifted the heavy tension with it like it were a mere feather. "You have a little bite to you! I admit it, I like that.” 

Khadgar felt a small swell of satisfaction in his chest, as petty as it might have been. 

Medivh's eyes searched the boy, looking for something Khadgar couldn't quite comprehend. Perhaps it was dishonesty. If that was the case then he had nothing to hide. “So, you claim the Kirin Tor have done you a huge disservice?” 

Khadgar blinked at the question, his hands began to fidget a little. “Well, surely it wasn’t on purpos-” 

“They said nothing of their other twelve attempts to push their people onto me.” Medivh interrupted him. “Furthermore, they sent you all the way to Stormwind with barely enough funds to get here. Is that correct?” He then snapped his fingers in rapid succession. “Come on, be quicker than that, a simple ‘yes’ or ‘no’ will do.” 

“Y-yes, sir!” Khadgar answered abruptly. 

“These are serious accusations, boy.” Medivh said. His tone then shifted, sounding almost sympathetic. “Yet not all that surprising. You’re certainly the youngest they've sent to me. I wonder, what did you do that got under their skin?” 

“I...I don’t want to talk about that...” Khadgar said, looking away from the magus. 

“No need to then.” Medivh said while giving a small shrug. “But I suppose Moroes has a point. I'd rather not have your blood on my hands. Turning you away would be like killing you myself." Medivh lightly tapped his cheek with a finger and looked thoughtful. "I’m feeling a little generous today.” 

Khadgar looked up at Medivh hopefully. “Sir…?” 

“You could stay as one of the tower’s staff for a little while.” Medivh suggested. “Until you’ve earned enough money to safely return to Dalaran. That’s my offer to you, take it or leave it.” 

Khadgar chewed on his lower lip, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “I’ll take it, sir.” 

Medivh's eyes shined with mischief, their green color reminded Khadgar of poison. "Welcome to Karazhan." 

-o-o-End of Chapter 1-o-o-

I hope you enjoyed reading. If you’re interested in checking out the rest of the fic, it can be found here on AO3:

A Twist of Fate

[velvetstreets]

RED WINE.

Concept: Red Wine gets Jack in the mood… 👀

None of the people in my writings portray the actual people I write about! It’s all a work of fiction, I have no idea how they are/act irl.

Warnings: smut, exhibitionism, fingering (f!receiving), handjob, swearing, consumption of cum

———————————————————————

Red Wine. Red wine made Jack super horny and needy - a delicate combo for you to deal with. You saw it coming miles away when they started to serve it at the birthday dinner for DJ Drama you were at with Jack; but you didn’t want to protest it publicly and make a scene. You had hoped Jack would be realistic and remember his patterns, but you knew he didn’t care. He loved when he could express how much he wanted you, to you or to anyone else who was willing to listen.

You eyed him when he was on his third glass, his thumb circling the skin of your inner thigh by your knee. You tried to think nothing of it, but that changed when you felt his hand slip up your dress dangerously high. You kept your composure and smiled at the guests who sat across from you at the long table, discreetly placing a hand on top of Jack’s to get him to stop. He ceased his actions momentarily, letting you finally take your hand off of his to pick up your wine glass and moved it to your lips. His hand started to move again, sneaking up your thigh to press his middle finger on your clit, which was barely covered by the thin mesh material of your thong. You exhaled through your nose deeply, eyes having shut for a moment as you gulped the swig of wine you had taken, down your throat. Jack rubbed small circles on your clit, causing your thighs to squeeze together. He would stop moving every time he felt your thighs squeeze together, knowing it drove you crazy, but he wanted you to need him; so bad that you were willing to let him finger you under the table, in the presence of all these people at this intimate setting. Your hips jerked forward a little as he resumed his torture on your swollen clit.

“You good, baby?” Jack asked with a hint of teasing in his voice, as a few eyes had turned to you from your sudden movement.

“Mmhm.” You hummed, sitting the glass back down on the table, not confident that your voice would be able to form any real words at the moment. You were about to reach back down to your lap to remove Jack’s hand, but Jack was quicker, and plunged his two fingers into your slick pussy. Your eyes widened slightly and your manicured nails gripped the plush seat cushion of your chair.

“Fuck..” you softly moaned out, so quietly that Jack barely caught it. He dipped his head down so his lips were right by your ear.

“And now? Still feel just good, or better?” He whispered in his deep tone, lips brushing against your ear, making a shiver go up your spine in arousal.

“B-better, but Jack.. people-“ you started to protest, which only made Jack speed up his thrusts, the palm of his hand deliciously rubbing against and adding pressure to your clit as his fingers slipped in and out so effortlessly.

“I don’t care about them, I’m not trying to get them to cum, am I sweetheart?” Jack said, his sultry voice daring your eyes to roll back. His lips started licking and nipping at your neck - your eyes darted around the table with worry of being caught; but to your surprise, no one was paying attention to the two of you - either too drunk to notice or too into their own conversations to care.

“Jack-“ you started again before he cut you off.

“Pleaseee baby, need you bad… need to feel you, please- I just wanna make you feel good, wanna make you cum. Please let me y/n-“ he whined in your ear, kisses becoming sloppier against your neck.

“Fuck, okay Jack, do whatever-“ you groaned, giving in as usual to Jack’s needy self. You felt him smile against your neck before pulling away and giving you a smirk. You were about to say something until Jack inserted a third finger and managed to reach that spot at your core, as he turned his head and jumped back into conversation with Drama as if he wasn’t finger fucking the hell out of you right now.

You tried to control your breathing and composure, but every time you were about to try and listen to someone talking, Jack would bump his palm against your clit hard. You pressed your face into the back of Jack’s shoulder - knowing you couldn’t keep your moans in without some aid, as Jack curled his fingers, the pads of them rubbing against your gspot, quickening their pace as he knew you were going to cum soon. Your left hand gripped the arm he was using to finger you, and dug your acrylics into his dress shirt covered arm as you came.

Jack felt you press you face into his shoulder and heard the shaky breathe you let out.

“You tired Y/N?” Drama asked with a chuckle, noticing your dazed state with your head leaned against Jack.

Jack turned to look at you, his eyes a little more hazy and hooded from the wine he had continue to drink while simultaneously pulling an orgasm from you.

“Y’tired baby? We can leave soon, promise.” Jack said as if the events that had just occurred, never happened.

You picked your head off of Jack’s shoulder after a second and looked at the two men.

“Yeah I’m good, the wine’s making me a tad sleepy but we don’t need to leave just yet.” You said more to Jack than Drama, your voice barely covering how out of breathe you were as you rubbed your hand up and down his arm - his fingers still in you.

“Okay peanut, we’ll leave in 20.” Jack said sweetly, planting a gentle kiss on your forehead, keeping up his innocent act before continuing his conversation with Drama and a few other industry people. He then discreetly slipped his fingers out of you, causing you to bite your lip to keep from whimpering at the loss of fullness. Jack then took some whipped cream from the half eaten dessert plate in front of him, and lathered his fingers in it before slipping them into his mouth. Your cum and the whipped cream swirling in his mouth as he let out a soft hum, eyes never leaving yours.

“So sweet, you should try some babe.” He said teasingly. You blushed and picked your wine glass up and drank from it to hide your embarrassment. Jack chuckled as he went back to his conversation, leaving you frustrated.

You furrowed your eyebrows and internally huffed. He always did this. He loved to rile you up in public and make you look incriminating while he looked presentable and not completely fucked out like you did. You weren’t having it this time.

You slid your hands under the table, immediately unbuttoning and unzipping Jack’s pants before he could even try and stop you. You took one arm back out and held Jack’s arm, so it seemed as if you were just lovingly caressing him to onlookers.

You slid your hand under Jack’s briefs and began to slowly rub up and down his dick. Jack let out a shaky exhale as his hand tensed on your thigh.

“Y/N-“ he lowly whispered, his eyes starting to flutter.

“Yeah?” You asked innocently.

“Stop, not here-“ he mumbled before you leaned up and nibbled on his ear.

“But you were so kind, so I might as well return the favor baby. You feel so good Jack, so big…” you moaned in a velvety voice. You felt him shiver, and continued to stroke him, smearing the precum at his head with your thumb.

“C’mon J, go back to your boys convo, don’t leave them hanging.” You urged him, but Jack’s head remained hanging low, unable to tear himself away from the pleasure you were providing him.

“Keep talking to them or I’ll stop.” You threatened, knowing he was too far gone to let you stop- he needed to cum soon. Jack reluctantly turned back to the guys, holding a fist to his mouth as he tried to fight through the sensation you were bringing him. You continued stroking him, tightening your grip slightly as you quickened your pace. You felt his dick twitch and he finally came all over your hand, a few drops landing on the outside of his briefs. Jack came with a silent grunt against his fist, eyes screwed shut as he let his orgasm crash.

“Maaan, what is this, y’all are getting old on me and it’s my old ass’s birthday!” Drama teased Jack. Jack tried to laugh it off, giving him a small comment as his eyes were drawn to what you were doing. You had grabbed a napkin to wipe the cum off you hand and placed it in your lap, but you were still feeling mischievous, eyeing the soiled napkin in your lap. You reached for it and wiped your face as if you were getting rid of any food remnants on you face- but really you wiped Jack’s cum into your mouth, swallowing and licking your lips after you finished, never breaking eye contact with him.

Jack’s eyes were wide the entire time, filled with surprise and lust as he shifted in his seat. You smiled at him and zipped his pants back up. Drama’s head quirked at the sound before looking at Jack.

“This was great man, but we gotta dip. Happy birthday.” Jack said, quickly whipping his head to look at Drama before grabbing your hand and pulling you up out of your seat. Drama chuckled as Jack threw up a peace sign to everyone, and you quickly waved as Jack dragged you out of the building.

“Jack!” You squealed as he dragged you out to the parking lot, almost making you trip over your heels with how fast he was walking. You made it to the car and that was when he pushed you up against the passenger door.

“Fuck that was so goddamn hot maaaa, eating my cum at the table like that? For everyone to see? God I need you so bad-“ Jack groaned as he grinded his pant covered hard on against you.

“M’all yours, have your way with me handsome.” You moaned as your hands went to his curls, pulling him into a hot kiss.

“Shit bae, can’t wait any longer, need you bad babyyyy.” Jack whined against your lips and moved to bury his head in your neck, leaving hot opened mouthed kisses along your skin. Jack attempted to pick you up and hoist you against his hips, but proved to be too tipsy as he stumbled back and almost dropped you before you told him to let you down.

“Okay okay, backseat, less gooooo babe-“ he said slurring his words a little, the red wine taking it full affect as he smiled a lopsided smile at you.

You giggled and climbed into the back after Jack opened the door for you. He slapped your ass as you crawled in and you let out a small yelp as Jack chuckled. Jack stepped in and closed the door, quickly reaching over and pulling you onto his lap as he began to attempt to undress you while licking and biting your neck.

After the 4th attempt to unzip your dress he let out a loud frustrated whine, leaning his head against your chest, groaning your name in attempt to get you to help him.

“Okay bub, let’s do this at home.” You laughed and got off his lap.

“Noooo! Car sex baby, let’s have car sex it’s been so longggg” Jack protested, grabbing the end of your dress and tugging on it as you moved to sit in the drivers seat - seeing as Jack was more intoxicated than you.

“We’ll have car sex another time J, I promise, but for now let’s get home and do this in our bed, properly.” You compromised with him.

“Fineeee. Party pooper.” He moped as he clumsily got into the passenger seat. You couldn’t help but giggle at him, moping like a child.

“Seatbelt on?” You asked him as you started the ignition.

“Seatbelt on.” He huffed, still grumpy about missing out on car sex. You laughed and leaned over and kissed his cheek before pulling out of the parking lot and making your way towards Jack’s apartment.

It was only a 10 minute drive from the restaurant, but Jack quickly got over himself and started to rub your thighs again, his hand trying to sneak up your dress as he left kisses up your shoulder and sucking at your neck. You did your best by slapping his hand away and trying to get him to behave during the short ride, but it was no use.

“So so sexyyy in this dress angel, mmm just wanna feel you.” He groaned, his hands now rubbing your tits as you drove. He pulled at fabric covering your chest, attempting to suck on your breasts while you drove, but you swatted him away once again, not wanting your tits to be exposed to anyone else who drove by.

You finally turned the corner and drove into the parking lot of Jack’s apartment as he continued to fondle your breasts, whining about how hard his dick was and needed to be in you, with you squeezing him just how he liked.

“Almost there bub, c’mon, let’s get in the elevator.” You encouraged him as you helped him with his seatbelt before the two of you stepped out the car and made you way to the elevator.

Once the doors closed, Jack couldn’t keep his hands off you. They roamed up and down your back, settling on your ass with a firm squeeze as he sloppily kissed you - tongues a mess and lips swollen by the time the elevator dinged, signaling you were at your floor.

Jack turned and looked at you with a devious smile.

“Finally.” He said before eagerly pushing you out the elevator and into his apartment to continue what was a sensual hot session between you two.

————————————————————————

Tag list: @hoodharlow @moody4world @watercolorskyy @lcandothisallday @harlowthot @triplexdoublex @thinkingaboutjharlow @bbyharlow @jackharlows-world @primadxna-girl @curlyhairclub @dessmxsworld @inluvwithladybug @babyharleezy @thysagclub

[malfoysstilinski]

three’s a crowd | DRACO MALFOY (smut)

Draco Malfoy x Reader

SUMMARY: draco and y/n fuck in the common room and when blaise interrupts, draco can’t find it in himself to stop. 

REQUESTED: omg could i please request a rough slytherin reader x draco smut where they almost get caught like someone walks in but they make it seem like they’re just spending time together but draco edges her as he continues the conversation hehehehehehe

WARNINGS: smut, public sex, choking, slut shaming, hair pulling, oral receiving (both male and female), multiple orgasms, overstimulation, degradation kink, probably more. 

A/N: this is my 2nd time writing this bc tumblr deleted it the first time. hope it’s worth it! 

MASTERLIST

An hour ago, the Slytherin Common Room had been bustling with life; members of the green-coloured house roaring the lyrics to their favourite songs and tipping back as many shots of Fire Whiskey as they could without throwing up. It had been a grand day to be a Slytherin, as today was the day that they had beaten the Gryffindors in a Quidditch match, and all thanks to your boyfriend, too.

The two of you had spent most of the night sat on the leather couch, you with your back to the arm and your legs draped across his lap, your head resting on his shoulder and glasses of alcohol in his hand. With a snap of the fingers, Draco had either Crabbe or Goyle topping them up like it was their full-time job. And all night, members of Slytherin had been coming up to congratulate Draco on being able to knock Potter out of the way just in time to catch the Snitch and win the game. 

Each time he’d smirk or chuckle, running a lanky hand through his pale hair and messing it up even further. It was already quite disheveled from your hand remaining in it all evening, gently scratching his scalp and absentmindedly combing through his silky blond locks as you used your other hand to raise your glass to your lips every now and then. 

Now, however, your glass was empty and everybody had seemed to call it a night, leaving the two of you alone in the Common Room, still buzzing from the alcohol and enjoying the quiet company of one another. You found that with Draco, you could sit in silence for hours and still understand each other completely. 

So when his large hand brushed your thigh where you dress was riding up, you knew what he wanted. Draco’s ring was cold against your skin as he ran it up and down your smooth thighs, even dipping underneath your dress a little but never going as far as your panties. You were growing wetter and wetter with every advance he made, but your boyfriend wasn’t watching you, his head was leaning back on the couch as he stared at the ceiling. 

His jawline appears so prominent due to his position that you can’t help yourself. Your hand glides from his soft hair and down the back of his neck, nails grazing his pale skin and leaving goosebumps in their wake. You trail your Slytherin-green nails across his jaw and grab it lightly, twisting him so that he’s forced to look down at you. 

When Draco does, his silver pools darkening with lust and curiosity, you lean up a little, wrapping an arm around his neck and tugging him down closer to you from where you lay with your back against the arm of the sofa. Now, Draco’s bent from his sitting position beneath you, his arm sticking out by your head and gripping the arm of the couch to keep himself hovering above you slightly. 

He expects you to dive in and capture his lips with yours, but instead, feels your mouth on his neck. It causes him to close his eyes and grip the couch tighter, making a serious effort for his drunken limbs not to collapse from the pleasure and crush you beneath him. He twists to get more comfortable, his knees now either side of your body and his other hand next to your face, pinning you beneath him on the couch. 

“Fuck,” Draco mutters when you find the spot that he loves so much. 

Your fingers have moved back to your hair to keep him still as you suck and gently bite at his neck, leaving a hickey or two in your wake. Draco pretends that it annoys him when you do it, but you know that he secretly admires them in the mirror when your back is turned, a smug smirk on his face as he walks into the Great Hall for breakfast after. 

“Mhm,” you murmur against his neck, blowing your alcohol-ridden breath on his new hickey and making him shiver. “I think you deserve a better after-party for kicking Gryffindor’s arse, don’t you?”

Draco smirks and pulls away from you. “I suppose I do.”

You love when Draco gets cocky. You watch as he pushes up from above you and moves to sit where he was, spreading his legs wide and unzipping and unbuttoning his smart trousers. You slide down onto the floor in front of him onto your knees, smoothing your hands up his thighs until you reach his cock which he’s pulled out of his underwear. It stands proudly, leaking with precum as Draco takes the base and lightly smacks your lips with it. 

“My good little slut,” Draco hums, eyes nearly shutting when you take him inside your mouth. “Knows exactly how to please me. Only one that can please me like this.”

You moan around him, the vibrations making a loud sigh leave from his parted lips. He leans back in his position on the leather couch, one hand moving to hold your hair whilst the other bends behind his head. He relaxes, watching you through hooded eyes as you bob your head up and down. Draco lets your hands grip his trouser-clad thighs, humming whenever you do something particularly pleasurable with your talented tongue.

“You take me so well,” Draco mutters, shifting so that his cock slightly hits the back of your throat, causing your eyes to water a little. “I suppose I deserve this, don’t I? Worked so hard on that Quidditch Pitch. Couldn’t think of a better celebration.” 

Draco’s self-confidence doesn’t turn you off but turns you on more. It’s not a common thing, but he’s clearly tipsy, muttering under his breath as he recalls how good you looked cheering for him on the stands. How, as he caught the Golden Snitch between his fingers and his teammates instantly moved to swarm him, that he knew you would be screaming his name-- in more than one way. 

Your hand moves up and you jerk off whatever you can’t fit inside your mouth with your hand. Draco makes small appreciative groans, his hand tightening its grip in your hair, tugging you down further. You tighten your mouth around him, making him hiss in pleasure. You can tell that he’s close from the way his head is now flung back, eyes clenched shut, but he pulls you off of him before he can finish inside your mouth. 

“Fuck,” Draco breathes, grabbing you by the chin and guiding you to your feet. 

As soon as you’re both standing in front of each other, you nearly expect him to lean down and press his lips hungrily to yours, but instead he turns you swiftly around and shoves you down onto the couch. You’re slightly breathless as Draco bends down, hovering over your face as his cold hand flings out to wrap around your neck. You squirm beneath him, his cool, silver eyes meeting yours. It nearly makes you shiver.

“I’m going to eat you out now until I’m satisfied,” Draco warns you roughly, listening to you whimper beneath his hand. “And you better keep your mouth down or people will come down here and see you for who you truly are-- a desperate slut.”

You whine now. It’s strange how powerful you had felt having him groaning under your touch, only for that to be ripped away from you in a couple of seconds with just his words and his hand on your neck. 

“Do you understand?” He spat, waiting for your nod of confirmation which quickly came. “And you remember the safe word, Y/N?”

“Slytherin,” you murmur back, watching him nod. 

Draco’s hand slowly shifts from your neck to slide all the way down your body, groping at your dress-clad breast on the way down. Once he’s on his knees in front of you, the roles now massively reversed but Draco remaining in the position of power, he slides your tight dress up your legs to reveal your house-coloured panties.

“You’re fucking soaked,” Draco mutters, reaching forward and barely pressing down on your panties, which, sure enough, are wet. “Who made you this wet, slut?”

He rubs you through your panties, your head snapping back and your eyes clenching at the sensation. You’re desperate for him to push your underwear aside and actually touch you. 

“You, Draco,” you whimper, looking back down at him and finding him already watching you intently, silver eyes ablaze. “You. Ever since you flew out onto the pitch in your uniform.”

Draco smirks at your words. He clearly likes them because it’s enough for him to push your underwear to the side, revealing your pussy to him. He wastes no time diving a finger through your folds, collecting your arousal and rubbing it towards your clit. 

“Mm,” he murmurs thoughtfully, “You did make a good cheerleader, princess. Very good indeed. I suppose your encouragement probably led me to win. Which means you deserve to celebrate just as much as I do.”

Before you can speak, Draco leans his head down and attaches his mouth to your pussy. You cry out softly, your hands immediately snapping to his silky blond hair. You tug a little when he laps you up, drinking in all of your juices and groaning into you. The vibrations are sent up your entire body and you nearly cry. Especially when Draco moves closer towards your clit, his tongue finally reaching the nub. 

He does kitten licks at it, teasing you and making you pant as you throw your head back, unable to watch him as he works his magic. Draco keeps his hands on your thighs as he laps you up, finally encasing his mouth around your clit and sucking. You gasp, your legs nearly flinging up to your stomach, but Draco’s grip tightens on them. 

He guides one of them up onto his shoulder, past his head, and you absentmindedly lift the over one as well. Draco’s hands reach behind you and tug you further down the seat of the couch so that he has an easier access to your soaked pussy. Waves of arousal flood through you each time he licks at your clit. 

It feels like barely any time has gone by before you’re hissing his name. “Draco, I’m gonna cum,” you whimper. 

“Come on then, slut,” Draco pulls away momentarily to hiss. “Cum on my tongue. I know you want to.”

It’s enough to drive you over the edge as soon as his lips are placed back on top of your clit. Your hips buck and you are forced to cover your mouth with your hand as you do exactly what he told you to and cum. Draco licks you all the way through it, remaining eager, his hands still gripping your thighs. 

You expect him to stop when you’ve come down from your high, so you’re surprised when he continues. You jerk underneath him from the overstimulation, whimpering out and grabbing his hair. 

“Draco, I c-can’t!” You cry, feeling tears enter your eyes as he laps you up over and over. 

“Of course you can,” Draco pulls away and slips a finger inside your soaked entrance, another one sliding in less easily as he pumps them in and out. “Come on, my little slut. I know you can.”

You don’t feel the need to say the safe word, even as the pain dwells on for longer as he curls his fingers inside you, pumping in and out as his other hand reaches for your clit. He rubs his fingers against it hard and fast, faster than you’re used to, drilling his fingers in and out like it's his mission. 

The pain quickly becomes pleasure and you don’t even realise you were close to cumming until you’ve fallen over the edge. Your mouth opens yet nothing comes out as you continuously buck your hips closer to Draco, a smirk on his lips as he watches you unfold for the second time in a row. Tears stream down your face as you come down, feeling Draco pull his hands away from you.

“D-Draco,” you whimper, your entire body shaking as he leans up. 

One of his knees is pressed on the other side of you, digging into the couch as he hovers between your legs on the couch. His face is inches away from yours as he guides the fingers that have just been inside you to his lips. You already know what you need to do, your lips opening a little as he slips them inside. Draco’s eyes visibly darken as he feels you suck around his fingers, swiping and licking him clean of all of your juices. 

“Good slut,” he murmurs, voice slightly deeper than usual and his erection nearly pressing against you. “I told you that you could, didn’t I?”

You nod breathlessly as he pulls his fingers out of your mouth. Draco allows you to catch your breath for a few moments before he dives down and connects your lips. You drink up the taste of him-- a mixture of the alcohol he’d been consuming before and now your own arousal. Draco kisses you feverishly, one hand gripping your neck as he grabs you and pulls you to your feet again. 

You’re slightly shaky as he guides you to the back of the sofa, bending you over the arm of it and spanking your ass. You cry out as he grabs your cheek, squeezing it roughly before you hear the shuffle of his trousers again. It was obvious he was adjusting his cock from behind you, especially when you feel the tip glide through the folds of your abused pussy again. You whimper, unsure if you can pull out another orgasm, but feeling more than ready to try again. 

Draco continued to tease your hole and your clit with his hard cock. “I’ve been dreaming of fucking you in this common room since the moment I hit fucking puberty,” Draco mutters before he slides all of the way inside of you abruptly. 

“Draco!” You gasp loudly, feeling full. 

His hands come around and he hooks his fingers into your mouth, pulling them by the sides to keep you quiet as he fucks you from behind. You feel like crying as he drives his cock in and out of you, nearly pulling out all of the way before slamming back into the hilt. He pulls his hands away when your loud cries become more muffled, his hands reaching to grab at your waist instead so he can yank you back onto his cock, making each thrust harder. 

You muffle your moans against your arm as you listen to the sound of your skin slapping together and Draco’s soft groans as he fucks you hard. His hips smack against you as he glances down to watch his cock thrust in and out, the inches covered in your very own slick arousal. 

“Fuck, Y/N,” Draco hisses, grabbing you by the hair and tugging you back so you’re off the sofa now and instead with your back pressed to his chest. “You’re going to suck me clean after this, you understand? You’ve made such a fucking mess.”

You moan and nod eagerly as Draco keeps your hair tight in his grip, mouth nipping at your neck and leaving lovebites as he continues to fuck into you from behind. The hand not bunching your hair up has slid in front of you to palm at your breasts which are covered by your dress. There’s something arousing about the two of you fucking whilst fully-clothed. 

Draco eventually grows bored of the position, right as you feel like you may cum again, it seems. He pulls you back over to the couch and drops down onto it, spreading his legs and patting his lap. You know exactly what he wants as you move over, your knees dropping either side of him. He grabs his cock and guides it to your entrance, head flying back when you slide down onto his length. 

Inch by inch, he disappears inside you and fills you up. Your hands grab his shoulders as you bob up and down on top of him. He seems dazed as he stares up at the ceiling above whilst you fuck him, clearly in his own world of pleasure, but he quickly snaps out of it when your hands ghost from his shoulders to his chest, feeling him. 

Your head is thrown back as you ride his cock, but a hand grabs your jaw and forces you to look back down at him. You whimper at the look in his eyes. Both of you seem to have the same idea as you frantically meet in the middle, lips hungrily moving against one another as Draco grabs your waist and helps to guide you up and down on him faster. You’re going to cum soon-- for the third time.

Suddenly, the door to the Common Room slides open, causing the both of you to freeze. You drop down so that you’re fully sat on Draco’s cock, his lanky hands immediately moving to slide your dress down so that you’re not exposed to whoever has just walked in the door behind his head. You have a view of the figure that drunkenly stumbles in, but Draco has to crane his neck around. 

“H-Heyo, guysss,” Blaise slurs, “I miiight have gotten lossst on the way to the dormmms.”

“The dorms are upstairs, Blaise, not outside the Common Room,” Draco rolls his eyes at his friend and lifts you up by the hips slightly before he starts to slowly glide his cock out, and then back in again. You hiss at the sensation, eyes wide as you stare at Blaise whilst gripping Draco’s shoulders.

 What the hell is he playing at? 

Your fingers dig into him as if to warn him, but Draco doesn’t stop. He buries his face into your neck and carries on, thrusting in and out of your soaked pussy. It shouldn’t, but it turns you on way more to know that Blaise is only a few feet away, and completely unaware too. 

He probably thought you were just cuddling since you were in the same position as you had been for the entire party, but maybe if Blaise was a little more sober then he would notice the way your breath was shuddering and how Draco seemed to be shifting beneath you. 

“I know…” Blaise stalls as he heads slowly towards the stairs. “You did well today, Malfoy.”

“I know,” Draco huffs, driving into you slightly deeper.

Your eyes clench shut and you hope Blaise doesn’t find it too suspicious when your head drops down onto his shoulder. Hopefully you just look tired to him. 

“Did you see Potter’s face when you caught the Snitch?” Blaise snickers, “I’ll never forget.”

Draco, as if he can sense how much it’s turning you on having someone in the room, which he probably can from how much wetter you are now and the way you’re continuously clenching around his cock, continues to thrust into you slowly and smirks. 

“Yeah, it was quite hilarious,” he agrees, “Zabini, did you do the homework for Charms class on Monday?”

You want to kill him but you also don’t at the same time. 

“Huh?” Blaise replies drunkenly, pausing in his tracks. “Yeah. Think so. For… For Flitwick’s class.”

“Yeah, that’s Charms, idiot,” Draco spits with a roll of the eyes. “You’re absolutely plastered. Go to bed.”

Draco grips you tighter as Blaise starts to mutter about not being an idiot, going onto some whole rant that makes no grammatical or logical sense, but you’re lost now. You’re on the verge of an orgasm and Draco can tell. To get you off quicker, he reaches between the two of you and rubs at your swollen clit. You hide your face in his neck as you cum, eyes clenching shut as you shake on top of him, biting your lip to hold back your whimpers. 

You can’t believe you just came on Draco’s dick right in front of his best friend. 

“Are you laughinggg at meee, Y/N?” Blaise huffs, “I’m not a idiot.”

“I’m not laughing,” you peer up at him, wincing from the overstimulation as Draco continues to thrust his cock inside, chasing his high which is quickly approaching. You could tell from how uneven his thrusts were growing. 

“An,” you correct him with a soft grunt. 

“Hmm?” 

“‘An idiot’,” You say, “not ‘a idiot.’”

Blaise says something back but you can’t concentrate because suddenly Draco’s goes rigid beneath you. His fingers dig into your skin and his cock does one final powerful thrust before you feel his cum fill you up, his eyes scrunching shut as he released a loud breath. 

“Go to bed, Blaise,” Draco demands roughly, voice thicker than usual. 

Blaise is already by the staircase and just glares as he stumbles up, tripping over his own feet several times. 

“I can’t believe you fucked me through that,” you huff. “Or that you came inside me whilst I was talking to him.”

“You came whilst I was talking to him.”

“And whose fault is that?” You huff. 

“Mine,” Draco grins mischievously, reaching up and pressing his lips to yours. “Can’t say I regret it much though.”

You chuckle. “Me either.”

“Now on your knees,” Draco demands, “I do believe you need to clean me off like you said you would.”

[jarofstyles]

145👉👈

Another installment of mafia!h 😎

Get early access and check out our Patreon

______

“Come here. You can sit in my lap until I’m done working.”

Y/N never would have imagined that being in the mafia required so much…. Paperwork. But it did. And she didn’t usually mind, no, she was a good girl for Harry in all levels.

But she was horny. They had an amazing sex life, Y/N couldn’t ever complain, but he had been so busy lately that she was feeling a bit needier than usual. This was something that she didn’t know how to go about, because she wasn’t the most forthcoming when it came to sex. Harry was the one to push and tease and loved to make her shy and blushy.

So to initiate, she climbed into his lap and kissed his neck. At first it had just been a peck. But then it continued, Y/N shifting in his lap a few times until Harry was broken out of his work mode and realizing just what was going on.

“Wha’s the matter?” He spoke softly. “‘It feels nice, pet, but… what’s going on with you? Just feeling extra lovey?” He stroked her thigh, making her sigh and shyly spread her legs open. He stroked the bare skin there, getting a shiver from her and a bit wider of a spread.

“Mhm.” She buried her face in his neck, hugging him close as he stroked her skin, trying to go back to his emails.

That only lasted about 2 minutes before he felt his hand slowly being moved. Y/N took his wrist and guided it up, up, until his hand was cupping over her bare cunt. The bare, wet cunt that had his breathing hitch and body stopping for a moment before heat filled his stomach.

“Ahhhhh… so that’s what’s the matter.” He hummed. “My baby girl is horny.” She whined at the accusation but ultimately nodded into his neck, rubbing herself against the hand pressed up against her. Smearing her arousal all over his fingers and the top of his hand, she let out a weak moan.

It was a rarity for her to be so bold and give him such clear signals. He usually did it and didn’t mind. But this was an extra special day for him, because she truly couldn’t wait for it. She had wanted him so badly that she had brought his hand there and began to use it on herself, which made the man incredibly turned on.

“That’s my girl…” he whispered. “That’s what I like to see. Poor baby… was so horny, couldn’t even wait for me to bend you over the kitchen counter, could you?” He ran a finger over the folds and she jerked slightly, shifting so he had better access. All she wanted was pleasure from him, and Harry wouldn’t ever deny his girl.

“Never can say no to my precious little princess. Cant let such filthy words like ‘daddy, can you play with my pussy’ unless I’ve already got you fucked out. So you’re gonna sit there and just take it like that?” He chuckled. “I love it. Love my shy girl.” He kissed her temple, fingers slowly finding her clit and placing some pressure on it.

“Drippy pussy with a swollen clit. Y’need to make yourself cum on my fingers so badly, yeah?” He held them to her as she rubbed herself up and down, lifting her hips and holding on to his shoulder. A shaky moan and a nod into his shirt was the confirmation he had asked for, her hand holding his wrist right where she wanted it.

“Go ahead, darling. Make yourself feel good on my fingers. Use me to get off. I love this. Always want you to feel good. Never gonna complain about you cumming.” He praised. “I’ve got to make this call. But keep on doing that, sweet thing. When you’re gonna cum, jus’ go ahead. Don’t need to ask me this time.” His free hand reached for the phone and brought it to his ear.

She knew he was doing this to make her cum harder. He didn’t have to take the call now. But it got her off. His attitude, the way he carried himself, the way he didn’t give a single fuck. Plenty of times people had walked in with her sucking at his cock under the desk, and she managed to soak through a pair of shorts that way.

She breathed heavily into his neck as he answered the phone, talking lowly and in his more firm and authoritative voice. His fingers angled perfectly on her clit, she had found the perfect rhythm and she humped against them. He was thoroughly enjoying it, with his fingers drenched and her slick dripping down to his wrist, he didn’t care at all about the mess.

In fact, he welcomed it.

“I don’t really give a fuck who’s fault it is. Fix it.” His voice dropped, and maybe he made it a bit meaner than he had to but he got the desired effect when her hips sped up, tiny whines into his skin. For a girl as sweet as candy, she sure as fuck loved when Harry was a dick. She loved when he yelled at people who interrupted. It got her dripping wet, got her needy and wanting.

She was fucked up, just like him. She just didn’t show it on the outside.

“Fuck, are you all idiots?” He growled, pressing his fingers harder against her. She whimpered a little ‘yes, yes’ into his shirt as she moved harder. It only made him continue. Poor guy on the other end, but his baby had to cum.

“If I hav’ta come down there to fix it, there won’t be anything left of all of you to find. D’ya understand? I’ll have y’idiots offed before you can ruin yet another shipment because you can’t follow directions. D’ya even know who the fuck I am? Who you’re working for?” He hissed, eyes moving to his soaked hand as Y/N sloppily moved against it. She was close.

“That’s what I fucking thought. Now it better be fixed. Don’t call me back. I’m gonna be fuckin’ my girl.” His blunt nature wasn’t a surprise, but it was another thing that turned her on.

The call ended, and Harry could feel her hips get sloppier in its movements. “C’mon. Cum for me. Know you like what daddy’s an ass. Makes you so wet for me.” He cooed. “C’mon. Theres my dirty girl. Pussy is pulsin’ n’ waiting for my cock. Y’want to be filled, right?” He teased, free hand moving her hair to the other side of her neck.

“Yes, yes I do. Please….” She sulked, thighs shaking and slightly tired from the effort. The fuzzy feeling was in her belly, so close to the band snapping.

“Good. The. Let go f’me, baby. Cum all over my fingers so I can fill your dirty pussy up with my cum. Make y’walk out with it dripping between your thighs.” He urged. Taking one hand, he lifted it up and brought it down on her ass got a spanking- and she was a goner.

Babbling lottle sobs of nonsense left her lips as she came, body shaking as she clung to him. His fingers staying right where they were until she was too sensitive, sniffling slightly at the overwhelming feeling.

“There we go.” He soothed, pulling his fingers up to their faces. “Clean up your mess, n’then I want you bent over the desk. Need to cum inside that cunt.”

[stripper-patrick]

Next Lifetime 💫Michael B. Jordan pt 1.

Warnings: smut, fluff, kids, sneaky link turned into family, angst, crying, 18+, NSFW gifs, series

Tags: @rebellious-desires @mrsbanreswillseeyou @eclecticblkgirl @designerwriterchic @bvssmob

Relationship: Michael B. Jordan x black plus sized reader (Azina/Z)

<4 years ago>

I’m throwing my ass back to the music just enjoying myself during this time. I’ve had at least 4 shots and I’m feeling all of them.

I feel someone press up behind me and it’s my best friend Michael whose clearly off the Henny just as much as I am. He grinds against me and as I’m working my hips I feel his dick stiffen. A boldness surged through me, or maybe that’s the liquor, and I stand up turning to him sealing a kiss. I’ve always wanted him no doubt I just never knew how to tell him. I guess being drunk is the best way. His hands grab at my waist then snake to my ass. His sweet Hennessy flavored lips are getting me even more drunk but with lust this time. The glisten of his plump lips being out the diamonds in his grill set plastered perfectly on his teeth.

“Let’s go to my house” I nod agreeing with his request and he grabs my hand leading me outside. He hails down a cab and opens the door letting me get on first. He smacks my butt on the way in and I giggle.

“322 Barron Street please” it’s about a 15 minute ride from here.

The driver begins his route and Michael starts kissing my neck and his hand slips down my shorts. My panties are beyond soaked and now he’s rubbing my clit making me whine.

His hand wraps around my throat whispering on my ear “stay quiet ma” he rubs again and as soon as the driver turns the corner into Michael’s loft I’m bussing all over his fingers biting the bottom of my lip trying to stay quiet.

He wraps his hand around my mouth flicking my clit faster making me shake harder. He pulls out his coated fingers placing them in my mouth. I suck off my own sweet juices and he grabs my by the throat kissing me tasting myself off my tongue. The driver clears his throat and we stop giggling and getting out. He tips the driver and walks past me opening the door. As soon as he gets the door open my pants are already unbuckled and halfway off.

“Damn hold on mamas” he slurs. We finally make it up to his nicely decorated bedroom and I’m pushed backwards flying back first on the bed. Michael comes on top of me and I flip us over grinding down on his already rock hard dick. He grabs a handful of behind moaning in my mouth. I move down to his neck where I kiss it sloppily. We stop kissing for a moment and I remove my shirt while he does the same. I move down pulling down his boxers and pants in one motion wasting no time swirling my tongue on the tip of his leaking dick. A low moan fills the room and I wrap my lips around the entire tip and push my head down letting it hit the back of my throat. I let it get wet then go back up to sucking on the tip while my right hand jerks the base and my left hand cups his balls. I come off with a string of saliva and I use my palm to rub on the top directly allowing the slick saliva to give him pleasure. His stomach caves and a loud moan erupts from Michael as he looks down holding vicious eye contact with me.

“Fuck Z” I continue going to town until he grabs me by the throat pulling me up to his mouth. Michael’s tongue roams my mouth fighting for dominance as he pulls me on top of him. I grab his throbbing dick pushing it inside of my aching pussy feeling him expand my walls gracefully. He leans back laying his head on the pillow as I gasp sinking down on him until our hips meet. I place my hands on his chest and sit on my feet rocking my hips along his shaft. His eyes flutter shut as I work my magic swirling my hips in a sloppy drunken circle. He bites his lip while one hand grabs the back of my head pulling my sweaty forehead to his. The other hand grabs a handful of my ass pulling me down. His dick fills my pussy completely making me gasp. Without missing a second Keith grabs both sides of my head keeping deadly eye contact with me and thrusts his hips beating my pussy from below. I let out a mewl holding his biceps while digging my acrylics into them. I bite my lip as he obliterates hot spots I didn’t even know were there.

My entire body feels like it’s on fire as after he thrusts he gives it aches and caves for more. “You like that? You like being daddy’s lil bitch” he moans pounding me out. Michael moves his hands wrapping his hand around my throat pulling me further and growling in my ear. I try to push away as the pleasure is starting to overwhelm me and he holds me by my hips keeping me right where he wants me. The only that can be heard in the room is the slushing sound of my wetness, the clapping of my ass and his balls slapping against my ass. My legs shake already as he continues. My pussy soaks everything underneath me as I let out a struggled moan cumming harder than I’ve ever came with any other man before. Michael pulls out pushing me up onto his face while jerking himself off in the process. He wraps his hands around my hips tasting the beautiful mess he made. My body jerks and my hand instinctively moves to his head as I roll my body on his tongue. He moans at my taste sucking and lapping on my clit. I smile getting off his face and back on his dick bucking my hips wildly. Michael guides my hips keeping himself as deep as possible. He begins thrusting up again at a fast pace making my eyes roll to the back of my head. He growls again giving me a fair warning that he’s about to cum. Without thinking I scream “cum inside this pussy daddy”

I’m aching from his blows. I sit up and keep bouncing at the same pace as he holds my hips tensing up. His seed spills inside of me and I watch his arch his back when I clench my pussy creating a suction. He moans pressing into my hips more.

Michael sits up kissing me and giving me a hard spank to my right ass cheek. His dick throbs inside of me as our mixtures leaks out dripping past his balls and onto the sheets. Drunkenly I lay on top of him giving him lazy kisses. Time and liquor consumes us and before I know it we’re both asleep in each other’s arms.

…

I wake up with a headache the size of the room. I feel like if I move too fast I’ll throw up. I feel someone warmth next to me and I pause. Who did I go home with last night? What happened? I’m aching between my legs but my conscience tells me not to be scared. I look behind me seeing Michael fast asleep. I sigh in comfort knowing I’m safe. He stirs in his sleep opening his eyes and he sees me. “Morning”

“Morning” I move my legs and notice they’re weak. I pull back the covers and we’re both completely naked. Oh shit. I jump up to the best of my ability and he sits up too

“Mike what did we do last night”

“Well using my context clues we had sex” he says rubbing his eyes

“Michael do you not see an issue with that? You have a girlfriend”

“I know but I mean if I’m being honest I’ve always had feelings for you Z and clearly you feel the same way” he states. I grab my underwear shaking my head.

“Mike that’s not the point you knew we shouldn’t have acted on it especially since you’re in a relationship. This could absolutely ruin our friendship. Lemme ask you this what if we go get together and break up then what you know I’m not friends with my exes. If you can be cool with your ex y’all were never in love or still are in love. There’s no in between” he looks at me with his head hanging low. He knows exactly where I’m coming from. “I’m not tryna lose you as a person in general” Mike goes in the bathroom brushing his teeth and peeing.

I collect my clothes putting them back on and Mike throws on some basketball shorts and a t-shirt he grabs some slides and his car keys . Luckily my car is already at home since Michael and his girl Lori picked me up.

“Z I’m sorry. I know things went too far but I’m glad we at least know how we feel about each other” he says “and I don’t regret what happened last night” I nod and get in his car. He gets in the drivers seat taking off and taking me home.

…..

Lori decided to have a pool party today to celebrate Mike for his birthday. Of course he invited me and being his best friend I wouldn’t miss it for the world. Plus it’s at his new house and I’ve never seen it before. Granite we haven’t talked much or seen each other at all since our ordeal a couple weeks ago. In fact this is the first time I’ve actually seen him since that day.

I walk through their beautiful house with a bottle of champagne in my hand. I see Lori in the kitchen. Honestly me and her have never really been that close. I never really cared for her but I was always cordial with her. “Hey Lori I brought this for y’all” she looks at me taking the champagne without even saying thank you. Bougie bitch. Don’t get me wrong I’m bougie too but best believe I’m as humble and as thankful as they come. I guess that’s why me and Mike are best friends. We’re the same.

I roll my eyes and my heels click outside where I see a bunch of people lounging in the pool and on the sides with drinks in their hand. My other best friend Lamia greets me with open arms. Her perfume makes me nauseous and dizzy “Hey girl” she smiles

“Hey” I say trying to hold my breakfast down.

“Mike is over there. Have you and him talked since then?” As soon as I got home that day I got ready for work and told Lamia what happened. I shrug my shoulders as an answer.

“Only small talk and I’ve low key been trying to avoid him just so the awkward tension doesn’t arise” I say

“Makes sense” Michael begins walking over and I stride a little further away until he catches me.

“Hey ladies” he hugs lamia and I’m next. I smell his cologne and melt. “you want a drink Z” I shake my head

“I don’t feel too hot right now so I’ll stick with water for the day” he nods eyes lingering on me for longer than a second. Lori comes out running his bare back and our contact is broken. While Lori begins talking to him I slip away downing the rest of my water. The nausea is finally gone and I sit on the lounge chair going on my phone. I put on my sunglasses shielding my eyes.

While I’m relaxing in the sun I notice Michael keeps staring at me. I see the small bulge in his shorts and I can’t help but bite my lip, mouth water at the taste of his dick down my throat.

A mid-height dark skin man starts walking my way and I see he has a pearly white smile similar to Michael’s. I get a better glimpse of his face. His name is Jayson. I’ve heard about him before. I heard he’s a player and he sleeps with anything that moves.

He sits next to my feet flashing his smile at me. I sit up with a small smile on my face. “Hey I’m Jayson Mikes friend”

“Yea I know. I’m Z”

“What’s that short for”

“Azina” he smiles scooting closer. I glance up seeing Mikes eyes never leaving me.

“That’s beautiful. Fitting for a beautiful woman” he bites his lip. I take a deep breath and take my sunglasses off. I stare directly into Michael’s eyes and he’s fuming. Dimples are prominent in his cheeks, nose flared, biceps flexed from how tense he is. Jayson moves even closer and that’s when Michael comes over.

“Hey Jay what y’all talking about?” He interjects with his nose held high. A small rage burns in my stomach at how he completely ruined my chance at something. Even if I was just playing Jaysons game right back at him.

“Her name. It’s pretty”

“Oh yea the two ‘A’s in her name stands for aggravated assault. She’s crazy man she beat niggas” he laughs. He’s not fully wrong “but she’s my kinda crazy. Speaking of Azina can I speak to you privately please? Jay you don’t mind right? Course not be right back” before I even have a chance to protest he grabs my wrist and my panties are soaked by the time we enter the glass double doors of his house that Lori happens to be staying in. Just hearing him call my name rather than my nickname has me wanting to be on my knees on this cold marble floor.

“What the hell is your issue?” I ask yanking my arm away. He grabs me again taking me upstairs through the neatly decorated white hallway. We get into his gold coated marble bathroom where he locks the door. I lean against the counter and he folds his arms “why have you been avoiding me”

“I-“

“And don’t lie to me” he asserts his dominance making my clit throb. Silence and heavy thick sexual tension fill the air and I look down at my long pink acrylic nails. He steps closer sealing any space between me and him. His large hand wraps around my throat making me bite my lip “you like seeing me get all jealous? Shit makes you wet mama?”

“Yes” I whimper. And just like that I’m putty in his hands. He pulls me up to his plump lips placing a wet kiss on them. Michael pulls off my duster of a swimsuit coverup. His large hands play with my breasts and my hand moved to his hard on. He’s rock solid now. His hand moves from my breast to my bikini bottoms rubbing my clit. My hips hunk and my hands move to his bicep as his plump lips kiss my neck. My body jerks as his thick fingers slide into my hole with ease. He begins pressing my g-spot like a button making me lose my breath. Michael moves up to my ear whispering “you’re mine”

He pulls his fingers out and sucks them dry turning me around some I’m facing the huge mirror above the sink. I grab the ledge bracing myself as he rolls my bottoms down spanking me in the process. I spread my cheeks feel his warm hard dick press inside of me. He fills me up and holds my hips bouncing me back to meet his thrusts. His breaths become heavy and ragged and my mouth drops open but nothing comes out.

Michael is pressing right on my g-spot making me lose my breath. “Daddy” I whimper.

“That’s my girl take all this shit. You wanna flirt with other niggas ima show you who you belong to” he wraps his hand around my throat quickening his pace. My eyes squeeze shut and my moans get louder. The sounds of our moans and my ass clapping fills the room but we have to keep it quiet so no one comes up here and finds us.

“You like when daddy fill you up bitch?”

“Yes I love it so much” my legs begin shaking as my orgasm approaches fast like a train. He gets close to my ear still pounding me out against the marble counter.

“Look at me when I make you cum” I bite my lip and his grip tightens on my neck. I open my eyes to the best of my ability as my entire body seizes in front of him. My body is on fire and he chuckles biting his lip “you look so fucking pretty taking all this dick like a good little whore”

I whimper jerking around and he pulls out watching my body tense up and convulse. He smacks my already shaking ass. Michael turns me around again putting me on the counter and he gets on one knee licking my pussy. He slurps you the mess he made moaning at the taste. I watch as he pulls my pussy lips back making sure to get as much of my clit as possible. My body writhes from still being sensitive and I grab the back of his head pushing him further in me. I pull off my bikini top rubbing my nipples while grinding on his face. My head falls back and he gives small licks making me even crazier than before. Michael comes up kissing my lips. I can taste myself on his tongue. He taps his dick on my clit before inserting himself again. I wrap my arms around his shoulders as he wastes no time taking me to Poundtown.

His short nails claw down my back and he buries his head in my neck. “That’s it daddy right there” my nails take through his short waves as his hips ripple through me. My moans uncontrollably get louder and he covers my mouth pounding me harder “can’t scream now can you baby?” I whimper eyes rolling to the back of my head as I squirt on his dick “that’s what I want fuck I’m bout to cum” his growls get louder and he kisses me moaning. His body shakes when he leaks inside of me. My nails scrape down his back and he empties his load inside of me.

He stays inside of me staring deep into my eyes. I can’t help this feeling anymore but I need to for the sake of our friendship. Michael’s catches me in a kiss and for a split second I ignore my feelings and kiss him back. As if he were really mine. That thought stops me from going any further “I’m sorry for avoiding you”

“I understand mamas” he kisses me again and pull out grabbing a towel he wipes off my pussy and leans down placing a kiss on my clit making me gasp. I chuckle getting off the counter with his help. My legs shake and I laugh. I grab my clothes putting them back on and making sure I look like I did before I came up here.

“Mike” I hear Lori call from downstairs. To the best of my ability I walk to the door but before I open it Michael grabs my arm kissing me again. This one was more passion than lust. I smile pulling away and open the door. To see Lori coming in. I turn around and turn him around quickly “so this is the master bathroom?” I look at him

“Yea it’s marble counters and the gold trim it’s my favorite and there’s the waterfall shower in there” we walk towards the shower acting like he was explaining me the layout of the bathroom the whole time. I hear loris heels click in the bathroom “baby the boys are looking for you at the pool” he turns around nodding

“Ard come on Z” We walk past Lori and her eyes linger on us.

Me and Mike walk outside and he can’t stop staring at me. He stands at the front of the bar with a microphone “I wanna thank every one for coming out. I wanna thank Lori for putting this together couldn’t have done this without you babe” that word ‘babe’ leaves a stinging mark on my heart as Lori steps up beside her man. She kisses him and then looks at me. I walk backwards dipping out from the crowd. I go inside and grab the champagne I brought. This bottle wasn’t cheap so if they won’t drink it I will. I pour myself a glass and start sipping it. Michael comes in and once again it’s just us alone.

“I’m sorry”

“Don’t be sorry. Look Michael as much as we both want it us being together might never happen simply because you and Lori are a thing and y’all are basically destined for marriage”

“Now you know I’ve been about you and only you for a while”

“I can’t tell cause I’m still single and you’re in a relationship” I sigh “I’m leaving this house is beautiful but you need to figure out what you really want” I extend my arms and give him a hug. He plants a kiss on my neck Mumbling the words I’m sorry again.

I grab my champagne and leave the house with a heavy heart and a cloudy mind. That nauseous feeling is back.

[moonlit-reveriee]

Baby Blue

technoblade x fem!reader

concept: techno is scared of ‘corrupting’ the reader, but the reader’s kinda into it...

content warning // NSFW, virgin!reader, very minor angst?, small argument that gets resolved

listen to this while you read: BBBlue (Single) by Olivver the Kid

(this fic was heavily inspired by the lyrics of this song, so i highly recommended giving it a listen!)

───※ ·❆· ※───

When Techno found out you were a virgin, he was terrified. Not necessarily of the thought itself, but of the implications.

He’d never forget the look on your face when you told him. You tried to be casual about it, but he knew you well enough to spot the dusting of pink across your cheeks. You nuzzled yourself closer into his side. Whether out of embarrassment or something else entirely, he couldn’t tell. All he could feel was his heart dropping as the voices chanted at him to “ruin her”

Of course you, his pure sweet angel, would be a virgin. He once again crumbled under the idea that you had chosen him. How on earth could a person like you even think of being with a beast like him. Yet alone, giving up your virginity to him.

He hated how horribly turned on he was by the thought of taking it.

The voices had been relentless about it ever since. They were hyper focused on your every move, twisting every thought of his into something promiscuous. When you rolled out of bed in the morning and stretched, a small sigh escaping your lips, it was endless cries of “make her do that again” “you should fuck those moans out of her” “make her scream”

While making breakfast together in the morning, they wouldn’t stop telling him to “bend her over the counter” “take it right here”

Even at times where he was alone, the voices preoccupied him with endless thoughts of you. He was fairly certain they had forced him to imagine every possible way in which he could have you. “imagine fucking her against the wall” “you can be gentle for the first time y’know” “she’d feel so good writhing underneath us” “press her face into the mattress instead” “make her get on her knees and suck you off” ��she’ll be such a pretty little slut for us”

He tried to take care of himself as often as he could, but it was becoming impossible to keep up with. There were only so many times a day he could jerk himself off alone behind locked doors. He was desperate, and sexually frustrated to say the least.

He felt disgusting for it.

After a week of this torment, he could barely even look at you yet alone touch you without the voices and his own guilt pounding against his skull. You couldn’t even think about broaching the subject again, because he was avoiding physical contact like the plague. He wouldn’t come to bed until he knew you were asleep, and would leave long before you woke.

As much as he tried to hide it, you could tell he was tired. Something was wrong, but you knew that he’d never just tell you about his problems unprompted. Techno was insufferably stubborn in that way. After several days of avoiding your gaze and leaning away from your touch, you chose to confront him.

“Techno”, you called for his attention quietly, trying to sound stern while remaining gentle with him. He didn’t turn to fully face you, but he glanced at the spot on the wall just above your head.

You struggled to find the words you wanted to say, so you settled on telling him, “Techno, you look tired.”

He turned his attention away from you. “Just a lot of work around the house this week. I’ll be fine after I rest.”

“Then come to bed with me.” You saw the way his body tensed and tilted away from you at that simple suggestion.

“I just need to write a couple letters first. You can go ahead of me.”

“Techno...”, you whined, daring to take a step closer to him. He gave you an almost panicked look, “why does it feel like you’ve been avoiding me?”

“I haven’t been avoiding you”, he responded quickly, trying to look through you instead of at you.

“Yes you have”, you responded firmly. A flash of guilt washed over his face at your tone. “You haven’t kissed or touched me for nearly a week now. I don’t even know for sure if you sleep in the same bed as me anymore. Fuck, you barely even talk to me.”

Angry tears threatened to spill down your cheeks, but you wanted to hold them in. Techno felt his chest tighten at the sight of it. He instinctively turned and reached out to comfort you, but forced himself to freeze.

“There”, you said, gesturing towards him, “just like that. You’re stopping yourself. Why are you doing that?”

He repeatedly opened and closed his fists at his side, wanting to have any conversation other than this one.

“[y/n], there’s just a lot going on in my mind right now”, he said. It wasn’t a complete lie. “I just need to work though it.”

“Then let me help you.”

“No”, he responded a little too quickly, “I- I mean, I just don’t want to talk about it with you yet...”

“Why not?”, you retorted, trying to squeeze any information you could out of him.

“I just don’t, okay? It’s uncomfortable, I don’t want to talk about it yet.”

“... is this about me being a virgin?”

“I never said that”, he replied, but the tension in his shoulders was enough to tip you off.

“Ah geez Technoblade, if it was that much of a problem for ya, you should have just told me”, you said sarcastically, “instead of avoiding all physical contact for a like week straight!”

“It’s not a problem, [y/n].”

“Certainly doesn’t feel that way.”

Techno huffed in frustration, grabbing a fistful of his hair at the root. He wasn’t sure if he was more upset with himself, or the fact that a few of the voices were still begging him to “please fuck her already”

“Love, I wasn’t avoiding you because I didn’t want it. They”, he tapped a finger against the side of his skull, “they want it so badly. It’s driving me insane.”

He breathed in and out shakily, trying to gauge your expression in the brief moments before he continued.

“I’m a monster. I’ve spilt more blood than anyone every should in a single lifetime. My appearance is more beast than man.”

He looked up briefly to find you staring right at him, a tight-lipped frown upon your face.

“What does that have to do with any of this?”

“I- ... I don’t want to corrupt your innocence”, he admitted.

“What on earth do you mean by that?”

“[y/n], you’re so perfect”, he answered almost breathlessly, “you’re so kind and so pure. Just living with me does enough to taint your reputation, I don’t wanna-“

He cut himself off to swallow thickly. He almost seemed scared of the words he was going to say next.

“I don’t want to ruin this part of you either...”

A heavy silence filled the tiny sitting room of techno’s cottage. In those few seconds, your eyes widened ever so slightly as his words suddenly clicked in your mind. This hulking boar of a man, an undisputed war criminal, was scared. He was scared of damaging you, your reputation, or your recently revealed ‘innocence’. Compared to himself, he saw you as a pure being who could be tainted by unwholesome thoughts.

If what he said about the voices was true, then his actions of the past few days would’ve made sense for him.

“Oh techno...”, you muttered softly, tentatively placing a hand on his jaw. His posture was curled inward, making him look small despite his size. He was stiff at first, but allowed you to lift his gaze to meet yours. He searched your eyes desperately for an indication of your reaction. You gave him a reassuring smile.

“Do you remember when we first met?”

A small wave of confusion washed over his face, but he nodded anyways. “It was at the festival...”

“That’s right”, you said, moving the hand on his face down to rest over his shoulder, “and do you remember what I did that day?”

“You threw an axe into Schlatt’s shoulder”, he answered, watching as the scene played out in his memory.

You lived with Niki in her bakery at the time, and witnessed firsthand the injustice she faced during Schlatt’s presidency. As the chaos after Tubbo’s execution occurred, you took the opportunity to hurl your axe where Schlatt stood upon his podium. The blow wasn’t fatal, but that wasn’t necessarily your goal. You just wanted to see the man in pain.

“It was a lucky shot really”, you admitted, “I wasn’t even aiming properly.” That managed to draw a small smile onto Techno’s lips.

“And do you remember”, you continued, “when I tried to confront the Butcher Army by myself?”

He grimaced at the thought. You had told him you just needed to make a quick trip to L’manburg for some supplies, leaving him at home alone to recover from the previous day’s events. You returned that evening with a sprained wrist and a couple large bruises forming on your body. None of them were trying to kill you, but you took a pretty good beating from Quackity just for trying to confront them.

“Why are you bringing all of this up now?”, he asked.

“Because”, you said, “this is the evidence that will support my next point.”

He looked bewildered by that statement, but continued to listen.

“I’m not a perfect person”, you resumed, “I have blood on my hands just like you do. I know it’s hard to compare to you, but I’m not devoid of my own sins. I can be mean, I’ve hurt people. I’m not a pure, angelic being who would quiver at a single inappropriate thought. I think you forget that sometimes.”

He let your words swirl around in his head; he couldn’t deny the logic in them. The evidence prevented him from denying the truth of your statement. He could almost be mad that you’d talked him into a corner, but he was more overjoyed at the fact that you knew him well enough to do so.

“And you know...”, you spoke quietly, letting your hand fall down to rest on his chest, “if you did somehow ‘corrupt my innocence’ as you say... I really wouldn’t mind that.”

Techno’s breath hitched in his throat. There were a brief few moments, maybe minutes, where he just stared at you. Then his lips were on yours; sudden and clumsy, but passionate. You gripped the fabric of his shirt as he grabbed at your waist, desperate to have you in his arms again.

“I’m sorry, I had to”, he muttered, his lips left hovering a hair’s breadth away from yours.

“You’re so silly sometimes”, you sighed affectionately, rubbing small circles into his collarbone. He gave you a gentle smirk before pressing another kiss into your lips.

“I’m sorry darling, I really am”, he said as he drew you into a tight hug. He took in your scent and the feel of your skin for the first time in days. It felt like he could survive off the feeling of your arms wrapped around his body alone. He wondered why he ever let himself be depraved of this.

“You know I trust you, right?”, you spoke with your face pressed into his chest.

“I’m not sure why, but yes.”

You decided not to reprimand him for saying that. You could help him unpack all that later. Instead, you brought your head up to whisper in his ear.

“You have my full and unconditional consent to take my virginity whenever you’re ready.”

Techno inhaled and held his breath, though for what, he wasn’t sure. It took a while for the full weight of those words to sink in. He leaned back to stare at your face, bringing one of his large and shaky hands up to cup your cheek.

“Are you sure?”, his eyes were wide with trepidation, practically pleading with you to tell him the truth. You leaned into his palm, indulging in the feeling of his skin on yours.

“I want you, techno. I’ll wait as long as you need me to.”

Techno was lost in your words. The sudden absence of guilt left his heart light and airy in his chest. For the first time in days, the voices were only a gentle murmur.

“she’s so beautiful” “she wants you” “make her feel good” “show her how special she is” “make her smile” “she’ll be so pretty” “she’s always pretty” “be gentle, no need to rush”

“make love to her”

“... I think I’m ready now.”

───※ ·❆· ※───

ayyyy guess who finally finished writing something!!!

parts of this feel a little rushed but ehhhhhh i was just excited to finally post it. i looove writing techno as an extremely self-conscious character who’s too caught up in their own head to see how ridiculous they’re being. so, this was a treat for me to write

i hope you enjoyed :D

-moonlight