#endless cycle of boredom once again

[wishchip106]

hrrmm no clue what im going to do today 😔

[burdenandacrop]

˗ˏˋ ❝ fickle flame. ❞ ˎˊ˗

submission from 🎂 ! loosely based on the song 'never there' by CAKE ! i love this band so much so the fact i'm writing my second fic based on one of their songs ... consider my autistic brain pleased.

summary : you're busy to say the least, and with that fact; comes along schlatt who is aching for even a minute of your time. scrapping for pieces of you, saying things he probably shouldn't, and yearning incredulously without shame.

⋮ ⌗ ┆established relationship, masturbation, fem reader, he is just really pitiful in this one. like extremely.

the night only seemed to grow colder, not in the sense of temperature though. just with how melancholy was filling into schlatt's mind by the minute, laying on his bed and struck with the annoying sensation that kept coming over him. he missed you terribly, but every single day it was 'i have a meeting', 'overtime', or 'i have an event i have to go to.' never an instance where you could crawl into his arms, something that wished so desperately for. he knows you say you love him, that you'd take the time to show him too. it just felt like a lie to him, he could only deal with so many short calls. dry text messages laced with boredom, as he analyzed every little word that you wrote. wondering, is this where it was going wrong? was he the problem? could he just be incredibly clingy and childish about this matter? was he obsessive? no common sense seemed to hit him though.

it was an absolute bore to work every day and when you were off, having to sport yourself for these extravagant events and doll yourself up to please the company and the guests. hell, you were at one right now. your fingers ready to press so hard into the champagne glass that it shattered. not worth it to make a scene though, just have to stand awkwardly in your dress as the overworked violinist played. they really got to pay that guy more. you sigh and look up to the ceiling, wondering if there was any sort of release from this hell. then suddenly, you feel a vibration from your purse. looking around to see if your boss was anywhere to be found before you just pull out your phone, thankfully he wasn't. you scour through your purse and pull out your phone. seeing a notifications from schlatt.

schlatt ♥︎ : Are you still there?

you sighed as you read it, your thumbs hovering over the keyboard as you pondered on what to say. part of the experience of being in a such corporate position, meant you practically had no time to yourself. no time to even tend to a relationship, which did make you feel guilty at times. part of you even wanted to call off the relationship due to the clashing schedules, but you knew you could never do that to him. he had been getting progressively worse with his clingy nature, but in a sense, it was warranted.

you : yeah, stuck here til midnight.

you could see how he immediately read it, the little bubbles going across his incoming text message. you had a worrying feeling that your text was only going to upset him further, but you had to tell him. his bubbles kept going away and then coming back, an endless cycle of clearing out his texts and trying again. eventually after a minute, he finally texted back.

schlatt ♥︎ : Come over after?

schlatt ♥︎ : Please?

you sighed at his texts, knowing damn well you didn't feel like making the drive to his house so late. you just didn't want to say it in such a mean manner, you knew you'd be seen as a bitch anyway you put it. there's still a sense in trying.

you : it's like a 30 min drive baby.

he stared at the text and felt his body become so much heavier, falling against the covers once again. it was this same conversation, over and over. his insistence on getting you to get closer, but alas; it seemed to always fail. no matter how hard he tried to explain how badly he wanted you. how he would lay countless nights staring up at his ceiling wishing the warmness on his chest from his cats was you. he felt like such a big baby, on how terribly he was attached to the slight bit of your attention. like a dog looking in from the sliding glass doors begging it's owners to let it in as he watched the owner laugh and enjoy everything. he was so happy that you were successful, how you could go these luxurious events where money wasn't an issue, but he had a deep sense of want. just wishing he could just keep you to himself.

you : [ image attached ]

he felt his chest get hotter as he eyed the photo, he hated how beautiful you looked in it. how your sequin dress shined from the lights, how utterly delicious you looked in the warm dull light. he couldn't stop his eyes from lingering on how low the neckline went down on your dress. everyone got to see you like that. except him. just the sheer thought of how everyone could just gawk at your body, see in person just how delightful your face was. he almost wanted to reach into the screen, just so he could feel your soft skin. it just wasn't fair.

schlatt ♥︎ : Beautiful.

he knew if he said anymore, that wouldn't be appropriate to be reading in such a setting. rest assured, if he could; he'd be writing novels on how he wanted to bask in your presence and how terribly he ached to do so. you softly grinned at his text message, it was short but sweet. you could tell he was hiding something of a sort, but you honestly didn't have the time to indulge into it. instead, just sending another picture of yourself. one with a higher angle, showing off a better look of the dress with a wide smile painted on your face. maybe that would ease some of his sorrows.

he let out an audible groan when he saw the picture, clicking on it to get a clearer view. zooming into your face, shaking his head as he took in just how gorgeous you looked. it was so unfair, so cruel. chewing on his bottom lip in frustration before zooming down to the dress, god your curves in it. he could even see the little crease between your stomach and your thighs. unbashfully, one of his favorite parts of your body. as he continued to look at every detail of the picture, he could feel his sweats getting progressively tighter. closing his eyes and sighing as he realized, great. that's exactly what he needed on a night like this. looking down to his waistband and pulling up the edge of his sweats to look at how quickly he got excited. what was it about you?

schlatt ♥︎ : I don't have anything appropriate to say.

you softly giggled as you read the message, shaking your head and pondering on what your next course of action should be. your thumbs clicking on the keyboard to type away another message, biting down on your tongue with the excitement growing in your stomach. right before you could hit send, you heard the gruff voice of your boss speak, "[y/n], our guests." he sighed out. making you immediately shut off your phone and stuff it back into your purse with a fabricated smile. relieved when your boss just nodded and went back to talking with other colleagues.

he saw how you left him on read, only making him yearn for you more. sighing as he looked back to the tent you created in his sweats, guess there was only one thing he could do. he looked back to the text wall between the two of you, looking at the picture of you once again. groaning as he clicked on it again, his gaze transfixed on how your eyes looked. awfully cruel to send a picture of you when your eyes were obviously bedroom eyes, maybe just to tease him. it had to be that. his eyes trailing back down to the deep v neck of your dress, begging to see what it looked like underneath. wondering if you were wearing a matching set, what color was it, was it laced? he knew his internal monologue was making him sound like a loser, but he needed it. he slowly moved his hand under his waistband as he kept his eyes on the photo, whimpering softly as he grasped his hands around his shaft.

his breathing hitching as he kept his eyes on how your curves looked, his hand going up and down as he imagined it being yours instead. thinking back to the past nights where you would ride him until he felt like passing out, his eyes fluttering open as he tried to keep his eyes focused on the photo. he could feel every wave of heat traveling up and down his stomach, his head flailing back as he kept his pacing. god he wished you could just come over tonight. instead of being at that stupid event. looking so gorgeous and showing off to everyone except him. a thought rose in his head, he was already in the process of losing his mind so why not add a little bit more to the fire. he began typing with his right hand, which wasn't helping with his focus.

schlatt ♥︎ : Youre nvere there

schlatt ♥︎ : Rhe things Id do if you were here

schlatt ♥︎ : Fuck just plehase comeb over

schlatt ♥︎ : I will literally pay for uour uber right now

as you were walking to the bar, smiling at your colleagues as you passed them. you kept feeling the buzzing in your purse, the sinking feeling hitting your chest as you knew deep down it was him. you chose to ignore them for now, in hopes that your boss would mingle somewhere not visible to you. you groaned and made your way to the bar finally, tipping your head as you grabbed another glass of champagne. smiling at the bartender before turning around and taking a sharp sip of it. you needed this desperately right now, you obviously didn't want to be plastered but you needed a little something to take the edge off.

schlatt ♥︎ : Send your address i am prdering the iber right now

schlatt ♥︎ : Its onnthe way .please

the insistent buzzing in your purse was racking against your brain more and more. you sighed before looking around to see if your boss was anywhere to be seen, sadly he was right in the corner. you groan and stomp your way over to the bathroom, trying to not look pissed as you walked. you looked left and right to find the bathroom doors, growing more irritated as the crowd of people seemed to thicken. a few colleagues waving at you, causing you to lose your timing and make small talk. biting the bullet and smiling as you approached them to talk, but you had to make it short. you absolutely needed to.

schlatt ♥︎ : Its tenminutes away baby ppease answer

schlatt ♥︎ : Im tired of waitijg fornyou i need you

schlatt ♥︎ : Im fuckijg aching overbhere

you nodded and played along with your colleagues opening chat, twirling around your glass of champagne with a smile. you tried your best to keep your poker face as you could keep feeling the buzzes in your purse. the worry settling into your system further, what the hell could be happening? you knew you should've just set it on silent and called it a night. you smoothly pull yourself out of the conversation and wave goodbye to the group, dipping into the dim lit hallway aching to find the damn bathroom. it had to be here somewhere, then thankfully you could see it at the end of the hall. the doors practically beckoning you. you basically sprint to the bathroom and check to see if anyone was around to see you. thankfully not. you pull yourself into the bathroom and let out a much needed sigh. finally being able to pull out your phone from your purse and your screen showing nine unread messages. all of which were from schlatt. your eyes widen as you read all of them, seeing the mention of an uber. and right as you were about to type back, try to protest in any way.

schlatt ♥︎ : It's there waiting

fuck. you tapped your heels against the floor, leaning against the wall to think of whatever you could do. you couldn't just tell him to cancel it. then again, wasn't that the right answer? you couldn't just leave this event. or could you? maybe this is what you needed, some adrenaline filled experience aside from your boring busy pallet. you sigh and look back to the screen, wondering on what the hell you were supposed to do.

you : ok im walking out now

schlatt ♥︎ : God I love you

you sigh with a smile as you stuff away your phone back into your purse, walking out of the bathroom and eyeing the exit doors. shaking your head as you looked back to the crowd, thinking to yourself if this was a smart decision.

oh, who gives a shit.

author's note : TEEHEE. i loved this request so bad. i apologize if you didn't want it to be lemon-y, i will make up for that with the next CAKE fic you requested anon <3 i just hope you enjoyed :> 🎂

[cozymoko]

So what I was thinking was that yuu has been in the manor for awhile, she always sees a locked door that she just can help but be curious about. Whenever she asks about it they tell her to bind her business, one the door was unlocked somehow (maybe someone forgot to lock it again after visiting idk) and she goes in to look and she finds us! The only sister of the Sakamaki family! (If it could be platonic Yandere that would be great) and you can go on from there bc idk what to add or the reactions of everyone would be 🥲 also sorry if this still isn’t any help I’m not sure if this is still confusing

THE SECRET SAKAMAKI

Note: I completely understand, no worries!

PART TWO: here!

Synopsis: Yui finally meets the only sister of the Sakamaki family who has been hidden away by her brothers.

Pairing: Yandere! Sakamaki brothers x platonic! sister reader

Format: Scenario

Word Count: 1.6k

WARNING(S): slight platonic yandere themes.

Want more Diabolik lovers? → Masterlist! ★

Please proceed below the cut.

Only a few weeks had passed since Yui Kamori’s arrival, and she truthfully wanted nothing more than to return home. Where she didn’t have to sleep with one eye open. Her skin ached, practically screaming for salvation after undergoing endless amounts of “punishments'' for even the smallest of actions.

But today, no one was here. At least not at the moment, leaving her to relax until her heart’s content. With that said, the young human teen decided to treat herself to a walk, around the manor of course. After all, she had yet to see even half of the wonders (horrors) that were the Sakamaki household and she was more than just curious. 

Door after door: open, close; open, close. It was a never-ending cycle of boredom and disappointment. She had almost given up, concluding that there was truly nothing extraordinary happening behind closed doors. But that was before she saw it. Yui stumbled upon an unfamiliar door with a unique gold plaque just inches above it, serving as its most noticeable dissimilarity from the others.

The door was nothing special. It was wooden with gleaming gold imprinting smoothed between every crevice. But it stood out nonetheless. Yui slowly dragged her eyes along its surface, taking in its somewhat feminine appearance. Above it rested a large golden panel, inhabited by intricate calligraphy neatly engraved into its exterior; reading “Our treasure: [Name]”

Yui reached out, allowing her fingertips to subtly graze the cool doorknob, mere moments away from twisting it open… 

“You know, it's really impolite to go snooping around someone else’s home, little bitch~!” The sound of Laito’s voice nearly made her jump out of her skin. His tone was light but lacked the playfulness it tried so desperately to convey. “Allow me to escort you back to your room, fufu~.” 

Reluctantly, she followed, allowing the vampire to steer her further and further from the mysterious door; then down the hall, and back to her room. Her newfound curiosity outweighed her feeling of fear, despite Laito’s troublesome grip on her arm.

And she couldn’t help but wonder…

Just what was behind that door? Who is [Name]?

So the next day she tried her luck once more. Swiftly abandoning the security of her room, Yui proceeded down the dimly lit hallway. With the door close in sight, she noticed hushed whispers growing more audible by the second. Lo and behold, it was Kanato. 

His pale cheek pressed flush against the door's wooden frame, sweet yet borderline obsessive affirmations spilling from his thin lips. Yui assumed he was talking to himself, as far-fetched as it seemed. Though she wouldn't put it past Kanato of all people.

That's when she heard it. The faintest voice reached her ears, it was feminine and loving; and very clearly a blessing to Kanato's ears. She was sure he was ready to squeal with joy if not for the very slim amount of dignity he retained. Never had she seen him happier. 

A small smile pulled at the corners of her lips and before she knew it she was staring fondly at the scene. It wasn't every day she saw those sadistic men act so sweet and vulnerable, even if it was a little odd. Her dazed state didn't go unnoticed, unfortunately, as lilac hues met her soft rosy ones. 

“You—?!” The vampire practically screeched, trudging down the hallway towards the human girl. “Just how much did you hear?”

Let's just say she was left with more than just a few bruises, poor girl. 

The next day Yui ventured down that same vacant hallway. The old floorboards threatened to groan under her weight as she approached that same door that haunted her dreams.

“Haah…You really are a troublesome woman,” Yui jumped, startled. At her side lies a familiar champagne-haired man, tired and less than amused by her appearance. “This room is off-limits for brides. Even so, I've never met one as nosey as you. Leave while you can.”

The girl was stunned, shaking like a leaf. When did Shu get here? Why was he here? Her suspicions were creeping up on her like an unruly wave threatening to sweep her under any moment. At that moment she had finally realized, It wasn't just a door. 

I think.

But of course, curiosity killed the cat. 

Having grown tired of being caught, tied up, and punished time and time again Yui tried a distant approach; she had no choice. Her fair skin had grown battered and bruised, adorned by more lacerations and pricks than she could count. So as one does, she took her chances and decided to confide in Reiji. 

Entering his room, Yui politely took a seat across from the man at a polished deep oak wood table. Accompanied by freshly brewed tea set evenly between the two. “Reiji,” Yui commenced, though her words came as an airy puff as her nerves threatened to tear through her light bravery. “I…I've been curious about something as of lately. A door in particular,”

His red eyes narrowed significantly, “Go on.”

“All the guys have been acting kind of strange lately every time I get close to it and—”

A firm hand made contact with her chest, successfully knocking the wind right out of her, slamming her into the harsh cushioning that lined the leather sofa. “Enough; That is none of your concern, you are merely a living blood bag,” He sighed, sending her a menacing glare. “Don't allow your curiosity to push you to do unnecessary things. If you disrupt the peace of those I hold dear to me I shall punish you personally, do you understand?”

The mortal nodded and swallowed sharply, briskly maneuvering from the vampires prying gaze. And much to her surprise, he allowed it. Yui rushed to the door before slipping through its slight opening, down the hall, and then back to her room once more.

Someone Reiji cared for was behind that door, and from the looks of it, there was no way it was one of his brothers. So who? 

No matter, at that point, Yui had given up. She was scared shitless, not wanting to undergo any more torture than she already was. She had a sneaking suspicion that the brothers were slowly losing their patience with her and she didn't want to be there to experience the consequences. 

So the next few days were carried out like any other. Today she was spending her time with a certain redhead, mindlessly listening to his narcissistic rambles.  As they turned down a familiar hallway, she glanced to the man at her side. Ayato walked past the door without a care in the world and made her start to second guess herself.

Perhaps her gaze lingered on the door for a second too long, for a certain redhead had noticed her delayed footsteps. “Oi, pancake what the hell are yo-?” He paused, his face growing visibly sour as he followed her eyes. “...Looking at.”

He scoffed, gripping tightly onto her frail wrist. From the looks of it, he was not pleased. 

“The last thing I need is for more competition, those five assholes are more than enough.” 

His hushed grumbles were like sirens to Yui's ears, igniting the dying flame of determination in her chest. That was all she needed to hear as nothing from that point on could prove her suspicions false. There was definitely someone behind that door. 

However, it seemed her luck had already run out. 

Until one fateful day at least. 

A sliver in the door, so small it was almost unnoticeable. Feeling some sense of urgency the girl jumped to her feet, making a straight beeline to the wooden door before slamming it behind her. The subtle sound of someone clearing their throat dragged her from her internal celebration. 

The woman looked to be no older than sixteen, but she knew better than to believe she was any younger. Her silky hair was tied neatly out of her face, with very little makeup brushing her features. An extravagant rococo-styled dress fell to her ankles as she busied herself with a thick novel. Only when she met her eyes did Yui notice the resemblance the woman shared with the brothers. 

“A mortal girl,” The woman said, almost matter-of-factly. “You must be the sacrificial bride, correct? Yui Kamori, I presume.”

She nodded, so slowly that she seemed unsure, causing a jovial laugh to slip through the beautiful woman's painted lips. 

“I see…you’re not much of a talker, are you?” The woman smiled politely before closing the book that rested in her hands, lazily tracing small circles into its cover. “No matter. Answer me this, how did you get in here? Subaru must've forgotten to close it, he's in here quite often, after all, he's such a big baby.”

“Wha…What?”

“That door is never open so I think you know what I’m hinting at.” The physically younger woman leaned toward the mortal girl, gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “As for Subaru, I'm a little bit older than him so he tends to cling to me like his life depends on it!”

Yui gave her a look of blatant confusion, hardly catching onto whatever the young vampire was spewing out. “Hm, you look a bit confused and clueless, let me help you.” The woman smiled, whispering her rude comment dismissively “Do you even know why I’m in here?”

Yui shook her head, ignoring the anxiety gnawing away at her composure. Gradually shying away from the woman's attention as she hugged her sides. 

“Oh my, then this should be a real treat.” She giggled, gazing fondly at the frightened girl. “Now, Yui Kamori, allow me, [Name] Sakamaki to tell you a tale of endless obsession!”

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀—いつも、いつまでも♡

[daystar-by-jacqui-natla]

12. BOREDOM

I DIDN'T THINK THAT BEING A VAMPIRE would come with long days and nights and a completely new concept of time. Before, when I was human, time was something I could grasp—a linear thing, marked by sunrise and sunset, appointments and obligations. But now, the days bled into nights, and the nights into days, an endless cycle that meant nothing and everything at once.

The minutes stretched out, and sometimes, the hours vanished in an instant. It was strange, really, how time no longer held the same weight. I could sit in silence for hours, lost in thought, or run through the woods for days, feeling the wind whip against my face, without ever growing tired. The world around me continued its relentless pace, but for me, everything had slowed down—or maybe I had simply outrun it.

But as the days passed, that endlessness turned into something else. Something more oppressive. Boredom.

The four vampires were out of the mansion for their daily jobs. Gabriel was a lawyer at the Thomson Snell & Passmore law firm while Helena worked as a doctor at the NHS. Simon worked at the Regent High School as an English teacher and Alana worked as a pharmacist at Harrods Pharmacy.

The problem wasn't the lack of things to do; it was the sheer vastness of it all. Everything felt stretched, like a canvas pulled too tight. Time became this strange, slippery thing that evaded meaning. I tried to distract myself—reading, sparring with Ingram, even hunting in the nearby woods—but nothing seemed to fill the emptiness that gnawed at me.

I never imagined that immortality would come with such a sense of stagnation.

I stood by the window now, watching the rain fall in a steady, unbroken sheet. The clouds above churned in a slow, heavy roll, as if mirroring the monotony that had settled in my chest. The field was an endless void of nothingness and the raindrops were a long trail of stillness.

How different it all seemed. When I was human, I was part of that chaos— school, deadlines, small distractions. I used to think I was busy, too busy for anything more. Now, I had nothing but time, and it dragged on, heavier than I ever thought possible.

I heard Ingram's familiar footsteps. His presence didn't pull me from my reverie like it used to. Lately, even his company felt muted, like everything else.

"You're standing there again," he remarked softly, his voice carrying a warmth that didn't quite reach me.

I didn't turn around. "I like the rain."

"You never used to," he said, walking up beside me. I caught the flicker of a smile on his lips from the reflection in the window. "You used to complain about it constantly."

I sighed. "Things change."

Ingram studied me for a moment, then leaned against the wall, folding his arms across his chest. "You're restless."

"No kidding."

"It's the transition," he said, as if this explained everything. "It takes time to adjust. To... recalibrate. You're not used to the stillness."

"The stillness?" I echoed, turning to face him fully. "This isn't stillness, Ingram. This is numbness. It's like everything is fading out, losing color. I thought becoming a vampire meant intensity—sharpness, heightened senses, more life. But instead, it's like I'm slipping further away from everything that used to matter."

His gaze softened. "It's not always like this. I promise you that."

I sighed as my gaze drifted to Leah, who was lying on the couch.

Leah Clearwater, once so full of fire and fight, lay sprawled on the couch, her limbs draped carelessly, eyes fixed on some invisible point above her. If anyone embodied restlessness, it was her, and yet now, she seemed to have succumbed to the same quiet desolation that I felt creeping through me. Her transformation had been even more jarring than mine, I knew. For someone who had always lived on the edge of control, her sudden stillness was unnerving.

I moved from the window, leaving the rain behind, and sat down in the armchair across from Leah. The silence between us stretched, but it wasn't the easy kind. It was thick, weighted with unspoken thoughts.

She blinked slowly, as if pulling herself from some deep reverie, and her sharp gaze found mine. "You feel it too, don't you?" she asked, her voice low and almost dangerous. It was the first thing she'd said to me in days that wasn't laced with irritation or veiled anger.

"Feel what?" I asked, even though I already knew.

"The nothingness. The endless... drag of it all." Her words were clipped, biting, as if just admitting it was a betrayal of who she had been. Leah had never been one to wallow in anything. She faced things head-on, with brutal honesty and a resilience that bordered on ferocity.

I nodded, leaning back in my chair. "I thought it was just me."

A bitter laugh escaped her. "No. It's not just you. This... eternity," she spat the word like it was a curse, "it's not what I expected. Not that I had much choice in the matter."

We shared a look, a brief, raw understanding passing between us. Leah had always been defined by her choices—by the things taken from her, the sacrifices she'd been forced to make. And now, immortality was just another chain.

"All I did was eat, sleep and stare into space," Leah commented grouchily. "What an awful existence."

"Oi," Ingram replied, clearly offended. "I don't bashed on your lifestyle."

Leah scoffed, shifting her weight on the couch as if trying to shake off the suffocating stillness. "This isn't a lifestyle, Ingram. This is a holding pattern. An endless, pointless existence where nothing changes."

Ingram rolled his eyes but said nothing, his arms tightening over his chest. He wasn't one for emotional outbursts, but I could sense his frustration, even if he tried to mask it with indifference.

Leah turned her gaze to me. "You know why Ethan's taking so long in the kitchen?"

"What's he doing this time?" I asked.

"He's making pizza for me," she replied.

"That sounds... pleasant, I think," Ingram said, sounding unsure about this.

"Pleasant?" Leah echoed, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Pleasant is for humans. For people who still find joy in the little things. Pizza for me... it's just something to do."

I felt a familiar pang of sympathy tug at me, though I said nothing. I knew why Ethan was making the pizza. It wasn't just about keeping busy—it was about Leah. Even now, after everything, he couldn't quite shake that pull, that connection. Her imprint on him ran deep, in ways that both of them struggled to understand. And so, he tried. Little things like pizza, jokes that didn't land, moments that felt half-formed.

Ingram, oblivious to the weight behind her words, just shrugged. "Well, if pizza's all you've got, you might as well enjoy it."

Leah's lips curled into a faint, humorless smile. "If only it were that simple."

She leaned back, her gaze drifting up toward the ceiling. For a moment, the room fell into the familiar silence—an unspoken agreement between the three of us that we were all feeling the same, even if none of us were ready to admit it fully.

Then, footsteps echoed from the kitchen. Ethan stepped through the doorway, balancing a tray with a single, perfectly crafted pizza. He paused for a moment, his eyes scanning the room, catching the tension that hung between us.

"Pizza's ready," he said, his voice light but his eyes too careful, too aware of the undercurrent in the room.

Leah glanced at the pizza, then back at Ethan, her expression unreadable. "Thanks," she muttered, pulling herself upright on the couch. Her movements were slow, deliberate, as if she was forcing herself to engage with something—anything.

Ethan crossed the room and set the tray down on the coffee table in front of her. He hesitated, then sat on the edge of the couch next to her, his knee brushing against hers. She didn't flinch, but she didn't lean into him either. The bond between them was complicated, strained by the unnatural dynamics of what they'd become.

He looked over at me, offering a small smile, as if to reassure me that everything was fine. But I could see the cracks, the way his gaze lingered on Leah just a second too long, as though he was searching for something that had been lost between them.

"So," Ethan said, trying to fill the space with words, "I figured since it's a rainy day, and you're always complaining about the food here, I'd make something familiar. Something human."

Leah stared at the pizza as though it were some foreign object, and for a moment, I wondered if she'd even take a bite. Finally, she reached out, grabbing a slice and taking a mechanical bite, chewing slowly. She didn't say anything, just stared blankly ahead, but I could see the effort it took. The weight of trying to pretend, to find meaning in something as small as a slice of pizza.

"Well?" Ethan asked, his voice almost hopeful.

Leah shrugged, swallowing. "It tastes fine."

That was all she said, but the tension between them told a deeper story. Ethan leaned back, disappointment flickering across his features, though he quickly masked it.

I sighed quietly, my own thoughts tangling in the silence. I wanted to help, to offer something that would lift the weight from Leah's shoulders, or at least remind her of what we still had. But the truth was, I didn't know what that was anymore. We were all lost in this endless stretch of time, searching for some piece of ourselves that we hadn't even realized was missing.

Ethan stood abruptly, his hands running through his hair in frustration. "You know, Leah, I'm trying here. I get that things are hard, but you could at least—"

"At least what?" Leah interrupted, her voice sharp as she set the pizza down. "Be grateful? Act like this—like any of this—means something to me? I didn't ask for you to imprint on me, Ethan. I didn't ask for any of this."

Her words hit like a punch, and Ethan recoiled, his eyes flashing with a mix of hurt and anger. "I didn't ask for it either," he snapped, his voice rising. "But I'm trying to make it work. For us."

"There is no 'us,'" Leah shot back, standing now, her voice like a blade cutting through the air. "You keep trying to force this bond, but it doesn't change what we are. What I am. I'm not your perfect mate, Ethan. I'm not some prize to be won."

The room fell into a suffocating silence, the tension almost unbearable. Ingram, who had been watching with a kind of detached curiosity, shifted uncomfortably but said nothing.

Ethan stood frozen, his fists clenched at his sides. "I'm not asking you to be perfect, Leah. I'm just asking you to try. To let me in."

Leah's expression softened for a brief moment, but then her walls slammed back into place. "I can't give you what you want," she said quietly. "I can't even figure out what I want anymore."

Ethan stared at her, his expression raw and vulnerable. For a moment, I thought he might say something—something that would break the cycle of hurt between them—but he just turned and stormed out of the room, the door slamming shut behind him.

Leah collapsed back onto the couch, her face in her hands, her shoulders trembling with frustration. I wanted to reach out, to say something, but I knew nothing I could offer would soothe the storm inside her.

Ingram, always the observer, let out a low whistle. "Well, that was... intense."

"Shut up, Ingram," Leah muttered, not lifting her head.

I stayed quiet, feeling the weight of everything pressing down on all of us. The rain outside continued its steady rhythm, indifferent to the turmoil within. And as the minutes stretched into hours, the silence became all-consuming again.

My golden eyes began to stare at the pizza, smelling the bread, cheese, tomato sauce and pepperonis. Looking at it, it looked like a masterpiece in its simplicity—crispy crust, melted cheese bubbling with pockets of golden perfection, the vibrant red of the sauce peeking through.

I swallowed hard, feeling a strange pull in my chest. I hadn't eaten since my transformation; the thought of food had always seemed foreign, unnecessary. But now, something stirred. Curiosity? Nostalgia? Maybe it was just the relentless boredom clawing at me, whispering that I had to do something different, anything to break the monotony.

Without thinking, I reached forward, grabbing a slice. It was still warm, the scent overwhelming my senses as I brought it closer. Leah glanced at me, raising an eyebrow but saying nothing. Ingram, perched against the wall, watched with mild amusement.

"You're really going to eat that?" he asked, his tone laced with doubt.

I hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "I just... want to see what it's like."

Ethan snorted softly. "Good luck."

Ignoring him, I took a tentative bite. I could make out the bits of the pizza in my mouth—the cheese, the sauce, the pepperoni. For a second, it was everything I remembered food being—comforting, satisfying, real.

But then my stomach churned violently, a wave of nausea crashing over me. I gagged, the taste turning sour, bitter, wrong. My body rejected it immediately. I doubled over, coughing as I spit the half-chewed pizza onto the floor.

Ethan burst out laughing, unable to contain himself. "Told you," he said between gasps for breath.

Leah shook her head, a grim smile tugging at her lips. "Yeah, being a vampire doesn't come with perks like enjoying pizza."

I wiped my mouth, my throat burning as I straightened up. "What the hell?! It tastes like dirt!"

Leah let out a low chuckle, one that lacked humor but held understanding. "Yeah, that's the fun part. You think you can still enjoy the things you used to, but your body has other plans."

"More like a punishment," I muttered, still trying to rid my mouth of the bitter aftertaste. I wiped my hands on my pants, disgusted. "I don't get it. Everything looks and smells the same, but when I eat it... it's like poison."

Ingram grinned from his corner. "Your human cravings die hard. The instincts remain, even when your body has no use for them anymore." He gestured towards the uneaten pizza. "We don't need food, not like that. But sometimes... we want it. It's part of the torture."

"Torture is one word for it," I groaned, sitting back down, my body still recovering from the violent rejection.

Ethan, who had been quiet, leaned forward, elbows resting on hid knees. He studied the pizza like it held the answer to some cosmic question. "I remember the first time I tried to eat after I was turned," he said softly. "I was craving a burger, thought it would ground me, give me something familiar to hold onto." He shook his head. "It was like chewing ash. It's strange. You think being turned means you get more—more strength, more clarity, more life. But in a lot of ways, it's less. Less joy, less connection."

The room fell into a contemplative silence as Ethan's words hung in the air. It was something we were all feeling but hadn't quite voiced. The numbness, the loss of sensation. The world kept moving, but we were adrift, floating through it like ghosts tethered to nothing.

I leaned back in my chair, staring at the remnants of the pizza with a mixture of frustration and resignation. Ethan's attempt at normalcy had backfired, and Leah's discontent seemed to have only deepened. I felt a restless energy bubbling beneath my calm facade, an urgency to find some kind of purpose amidst the monotony.

"I need to do something," I said abruptly, breaking the silence. "I can't just keep drifting like this."

Leah looked up from the couch, her gaze wary but curious. "Like what?"

"I don't know yet," I admitted. "But I've been thinking... there's more to being a vampire than just existing. I mean, there's something that doesn't make sense."

Ingram's eyes narrowed, his curiosity piqued. "And what exactly are you thinking?"

"I was thinking about Renesmee," I began slowly. "About Nahuel and his siblings. Joham and his mission to creating his hybrid army."

"Violet, you want to get closure on what happened between your mother and Melissa, I get that," Leah softly accused.

"No, it's not just that," I interrupted. "I was thinking more about the Volturi's reaction to Renesmee. There has stories about babies born from two different species and of course a person born of both mortality and divinity—“

"What are you trying to say?" Ethan asked.

"Let her finish," Ingram growled briefly at him.

"I meant why was the Volturi surprised when Renesmee was born? They were very knowledgeable about our kind, yet her existence seemed to shake them."

Leah frowned. "And you're wondering why they were surprised?"

"Yes," I said.

The sound of the door opening immediately silenced us and I saw Gabriel entering. His presence brought an immediate shift in the room's energy. He was still dressed in his lawyer's suit, the crisp lines of his attire contrasting sharply with the disarray that had unfolded in the room. He looked around, taking in the scene with a quick, assessing gaze.

"Everything alright?" he asked, his voice carrying an authoritative calm that belied the tension.

Ethan straightened, quickly masking his earlier frustration with a forced smile. "Just having a... discussion."

Gabriel's eyes flicked to the pizza, the uneaten slices strewn about, then to the scattered expressions of those present. "I see." His tone was more observant than concerned. "What's on your mind, Violet?"

I hesitated for a moment, considering how to frame my thoughts. "I was just thinking about Renesmee and the Volturi's reaction to her. The way they seemed surprised by her existence, despite their extensive knowledge about vampires and hybrids."

Gabriel's eyes narrowed slightly, a hint of intrigue in his expression. "Ah, yes. The Volturi have always been very particular about what threatens their dominion. But even they are not omniscient. They react to threats based on their understanding and their fears."

"Exactly," I said, feeling a spark of excitement. "So, why would Renesmee's existence be such a shock to them? What did they miss or misunderstand about hybrids?"

Gabriel's gaze grew thoughtful. "Perhaps they merely thought that hybrids are myths created by the humans, such as sleeping in coffins, being burnt by the sun and all things."

Gabriel paused, his eyes drifting towards the window as if searching for the right words. "The Volturi, despite their age and experience, have always been driven by one thing—control. Their power hinges on maintaining order, on knowing everything about our kind. But Renesmee... she was an anomaly. She represented something they couldn't predict or control."

I leaned forward, my interest piqued. "But there had to be stories, whispers, something. They had Nahuel as proof of hybrid existence. How could they not have been prepared?"

Gabriel's lips pressed into a thin line as he considered this. "Well, vampire-human hybrids are extremely rare occurrence after all," he continued, his voice low but deliberate. "Even if there were whispers, stories of hybrids, the Volturi might not have taken them seriously. They've ruled for so long by relying on established knowledge. Anything outside their understanding was considered an outlier or a threat to be eliminated. Renesmee challenged that paradigm—she was living proof that their rigid world could be more flexible than they wanted to admit."

Leah shifted uncomfortably on the couch. "So, what you're saying is they were caught off guard because they thought they knew everything."

"Exactly," Gabriel said with a slight nod. "And when something new—something unpredictable—arises, it forces them to react in ways they hadn't planned for. It's not just about control. It's about fear. Fear that there might be more out there they don't understand."

The room fell silent again, each of us digesting Gabriel's words. The idea that even the ancient and powerful Volturi could be afraid of the unknown was both unsettling and oddly comforting. It meant that, in some way, they were vulnerable too.

"So, what does that mean for us?" I asked, breaking the quiet. "If the Volturi don't know everything, if there are still things out there they haven't accounted for... where does that leave us?"

Gabriel's gaze met mine, and for a moment, his expression softened. "It means we have more freedom than we think. More choices. But it also means we need to be careful. The Volturi will always try to maintain their grip on power, and anything that challenges their control—whether it's Renesmee or hybrids like Nahuel—will be met with force."

Ingram finally spoke, his voice measured. "But it also means there's potential for change, doesn't it? If they're not as omnipotent as they want us to believe, maybe their control isn't as unshakable as it seems."

Gabriel gave a small, thoughtful smile. "Perhaps. But revolutions, even quiet ones, come at a cost."

I leaned back in my chair, my mind racing with possibilities. The world suddenly felt a little less suffocating, a little less stagnant. The Volturi might be powerful, but they weren't infallible. And that knowledge sparked something in me, something I hadn't felt in a long time—hope.

Leah, too, seemed to sense the shift in the room, though her expression remained guarded. "So, what now?" she asked, her voice laced with skepticism. "Are we supposed to take on the Volturi? Because let me tell you, I've had enough battles for one lifetime."

Gabriel chuckled softly. "No, Leah. I'm not suggesting we wage war on the Volturi. But knowledge is power. Understanding what they don't know, what they fear—that gives us an advantage. It allows us to carve out our own space in this world without their interference. For now, that's enough."

Leah snorted but didn't argue further. She, like the rest of us, seemed to grasp the weight of what Gabriel was saying.

Ethan, who had been unusually quiet since his spat with Leah, finally spoke up. "So, we keep living. But we do it on our terms. Not theirs."

Gabriel nodded. "Exactly."

I looked around at my companions, feeling a newfound sense of resolve. The endlessness, the monotony, the boredom—it all felt a little more manageable now. We might not have all the answers, but we had something even more important: the knowledge that we weren't powerless.

And that was enough to keep us moving forward, one step at a time, into the unknown.

[nialltlynch]

kk fic master list (august 2023 edition)

the raven cycle / the dreamer trilogy

4000mg of ibuprofen | adam/declan, m - so tropey. but fun!

a thing with a name | adam/gansey, e - gonna be real fellas i wrote and posted this drunk and never looked at it again lmao.

ambilevous | handcat&matthew, handcat/declan, handcat/adam, m - secret night time encounters with a certain dream make certain people come to the most interesting conclusions.

be careful how you touch me | declan/ashley, m - outsider pov on declan. spoiler alert: he kinda sucks.

exhume our idols | declan-centric, t - moments and conversations about a certain absentee father all loosely woven together. (excised from a larger work that i may or may not ever finish so hopefully that explains why this is Like That.)

i am no excuse for your legacy | declan&mór, t - my first stab at writing mór. it's about her but really it's about declan.

i got more tongues than just this one | jh hennessy/mór, e - deadbeat milf sex. need i say more.

it's a gift to be simple, it's a gift to be free | aurora-centric, m - aurora is so normal. so normal. the high writing this fic gave me. oooough. good shit.

it's the sweetest in the middle | blue/declan, e - blue disrespects declan's time. by fucking him. at an event.

nothing in the shadows but the shadow hands | kavinsky-centric, m - rip kavinsky you would've loved the dreamer trilogy.

on concupiscence and other lesser forms of being | niall/reader, e - YOU'RE WELCOME

once upon a dream | gangsey but adam-centric, t - what if adam had a sword? also: im SO SORRY this isn't finished yet but im awful at writing gansey. i have the whole thing plotted out it's just. skill issue.

remembered | gangsey, g - the gang being besties.

smoke alarms, smoke alarms | declan-centric, t - a very declan childhood.

solipsism falsified | ronan-centric via jordeclan, t - ronan gets so horny he almost breaks out of the sweetmetal sea.

some things are best left repressed | declan-centric, g - a very declan childhood THE SEQUEL.

we're all falling into a deep oblivion | gansey/blue/declan, e - blue and gansey disrespect declan's time. by fucking him. at work.

without a me there is no you | mór/aurora, e - milfy clone fucking. need i say more.

final fantasy

in the garden sleeps a messenger (viii) | seifer&edea, t - i think seifer and edea had a weirdo fucked up thing going on and it was never properly explored. if there's one fic i could expand on it would be this one. i just don't have the voicing quite right. anyway. this one is dear to me.

bullet big enough to fucking kill the sun (xv) | prompto/ardyn, m - prompto didn't spend enough time in the anger phase of his grief and i was like. what if he did? just a little bit. as a treat.

piteous (xv) | gladio/prompto/ignis, e - i was so distressed by pitioss ruins i could only placate myself by imagining the guys fucking nasty in their endless boredom. hence.

the atlas series

head games | callum/parisa, e - a snipey not quite hate sex competition for fun and profit.

[paulythide]

A teasing peak!

Hello, this is a small tease of the upcoming One-Shot (Or is it a One-Shot? I don't know. I am having so much fun!)

Nevertheless, please enjoy it. Also, I'll try to post some art about my Dragon Age characters!

Also, if you wish to support me, please donate to my Paypal account. It will help me with keeping up a constant set of updates and schedules, as well as putting more Art for my works!

-Paypal- paulydppal@hotmail.com

See you soon!

Prologue

The concept of immortality, once a lofty aspiration and a coveted dream, has become a reality for a select few whose lives have persisted for countless centuries. However, as time continues to pass without end, the novelty of eternal life has given way to a sense of ennui and frustration. What was once a blessing has become a burden, an endless cycle of existence without the hope of release. The weight of immortality was heavy, and those who bore it were left to grapple with the ramifications of their eternal existence. Especially to those who remember what it was and the old glories of past times.

Still, it left a sense of purpose to those who have lost something significant. Revenge was often the only reason an immortal person would continue on with their dull existence. And no one knew more about immortality and retribution than an old woman by the name of Flemeth. A human, a witch, an old woman with even an older soul. A lingering reminder of what took place such a long time ago. A carrier of vengeance which would not rest until the purpose would be concluded. But that was still a dream for her. While waiting for her ultimate revenge, Flemeth's role in history has been to look out for essential roles in history, sometimes even push actions that could change the outcome of crucial moments. Out of boredom? Perhaps. Out of a need to do the right thing? Maybe. Whatever the reason for Flemeth to involve herself in certain situations. Flemeth's goals were mysterious.

Nevertheless, Flemeth could feel the winds of change coming again as she stared ahead of her, watching the smoke and fire from a safe distance.

"And so, once again, the Blight comes back to the surface," Flemeth spoke, sensing and smelling such a familiar scent. "An old soul tainted again."

Flemeth knew that the Blight could become an uncontrollable force if it was left untouched and with the current state of the world. It could be perilous.

"I wonder, what type of hero will rise against it?" Flemeth muttered to herself, pondering about the possibilities of meeting such a person. If it comes to that, she'll help that individual or individuals, just like she has done in the past. Humanity could benefit or a new leader. Who knows? Flemeth's pastimes to see ages come and go were genuine without entertainment. However, deep inside, she knew that it would not be forever. Flemeth and her old companion were awaiting their final dance that would soon come. But until then, she'll make sure the world doesn't burn.

"Oh, mother, there you are," a voice snapped Flemeth out of her trance as she could recognise the voice of her daughter, Morrigan. "Looking at the view?" 

Flemeth snorted, hearing her daughter's peculiar snarky, and sarcastic tone, which shouldn't surprise her. Flemeth raised her to be like that, after all.

"The Blight is coming once again, child. And it's starting here, on the Korcari Wilds," Flemeth responded as Morrigan stared at the darkened smoke that the Darkspawn were causing. Morrigan's face frowned, and instead of fear, was a sense of intrigue.

"I see," Morrigan only replied. "No doubt, the valiant Grey Wardens would come and save us all."

"No time to jester, girl. If we are not careful, the Blight could spread all over Ferelden. And only a Grey Warden can kill an Archdemon," Flemeth stated, scolding Morrigan's lack of understanding of their current situation or how dangerous those old souls of forgotten times could be. 

Morrigan said nothing, just stared at Flemeth, simply munching her words. Before sighing. "Of course, mother."

Flemeth nodded as she glanced at the horde of Darkspawn slowly climbing their way up from the Deep Roads, corrupting everything they touched. It was going to be a long year for Thedas, for Ferelden. Especially if the Grey Wardens were slow.

"Let go, girl. We must make sure to prepare."

"Prepare for what?" Morrigan asked her mother with a confused face.

"I believe, soon enough, we may have some visitors."

Morrigan's perplexed expression deepened as she obediently followed her mother, Flemeth. However, their departure was interrupted by an abrupt and intense sensation that coursed through their bodies, causing them to shiver involuntarily. The magic within them reacted to the foreign and unfamiliar presence, catching them off-guard and unprepared. It felt as though something or someone had infiltrated their very being, leaving a fleeting yet distinct impression that lingered long after it had vanished. The unknown entity had left them with goosebumps and an unsettling feeling of being violated by forces beyond their understanding.

Morrigan had her staff in her hand as she took her time to breathe in and out, trying to calm herself and her magic. "What was that?!" She exclaimed to the forest ahead of her, warning of any possible threat lurking in the shadows. But she knew no one was there.

Flemeth, an old woman, who has known many songs, was left speechless. She had no idea what that was. It was so unnatural, unknown, and not belonging to their world that it took time for her to regain her senses. The soul within her, that spirit. Mythal, an Elven Goddess, or whatever she was now, seemed to have been shaken too. And for an Elven Goddess, for a being thousands of years old, to be so afraid of such an unsettling feeling. It must be for an excellent reason.

"Girl, we must get back home," Flemeth whispered as she glanced West. Not being able to shake the sensation of something arriving so far away. Where the draws of the map of the known world ended. But Flemeth and Morrigan weren't the only ones who felt that sensation. Across Thedas, worldwide, to all users who possessed magic in their veins. They all felt that foreign invasion of their being, a quick shivering and unsettled sentiment of stupor and anxiety. 

And in the Fade, that wave was felt even stronger, as spirits, demons, and the fabric of the dream world itself shocked under the pressure of an unknown power making itself known. But what was it? Not even the oldest spirit could say. But they knew, mages, demons, and spirits alike, that a new entity as entered Thedas.

-

The rhythmic clang of metal striking metal, an ode to the blacksmith's craft, reverberated throughout the sprawling encampment. The cacophony of hoofbeats, the tramp of soldiers, and the ceaseless bustle of supply wagons coming and going created a mesmerising tableau for those unaccustomed to the sights and sounds of an army camp. Even intimidating, as such a view reinforces the idea that war was upon them. And it wasn't against a neighbouring kingdom, but something far worse.

And for a young mage whose life has only known the Circle. The exterior world seemed quite strange.

"So much noise," In a hushed tone, a youthful girl struggled to maintain pace with her surroundings. She found herself unaccustomed to manoeuvring around so many people or being mindful of her footsteps. The hallways of The Circle of Magi were consistently pristine and simplistic to navigate. She knew where everything was and could even travel with her eyes close. But here, things were utterly different.

"What is it? Not used to walking around so many people?" A warden by the name of Alistair called with a gentle teasing voice. The girl glanced at him and awkwardly nodded.

"Yes, it's weird to see so many... different people," She replied anxiously. "I am still getting used to... all of this."

Alistair smiled at the young girl. He knew how hard it had been for the young mage. The things he learned about her and the debacle that happened after her Harrowing made him realise that she was a gentle soul, thrust to join the Wardens. However, Alistair couldn't help but feel sorry for her. She is too young. Alistar sighed deeply, looking at the girl who couldn't be older than fifteen. 

From what Ducan told him, this young girl was beyond her peers. A truly one-of-a-kind mage. Intelligent, dutiful, compassionate, and incredibly powerful, the latter worried the Templars because, of course, they would be concerned about a young, powerful mage. Nevertheless, Alistair felt responsible for her, especially after spending time travelling with her. She was too innocent and afraid of the outside world and would be forced to join the Grey Wardens, and he didn't know if she would survive the Joining.

Alistair shook his head and glanced back as they walked towards the destination. "I... I heard you still have a family? Lothering? You did mutter something about it."

The young mage looked up to him, surprised to hear him say that. "You heard?"

"Ah, yeah, well, I have a good ear," Alistair chuckled nervously as he realised he had not yet disclosed his past as a Templar to her. Hearing and watching was a trait all Templars learned as a skill to continuously monitor Mages in case they planned something. A bit snobbish if Alistar could say so himself, but it was something he still had and was difficult to unlearn. "So, did you try to meet them?"

The young mage's lips quivered briefly as sadness poured from her face but soon vanished as she only breathed slowly. "I only know little. I have a few second cousins. The Amell Family used to be a big noble house from Kirkwall. I think... or very wealthy. I don't know how my mother ended up in Ferelden. I never had the chance to ask her."

"Ah, could you ask her? Ask for some references to where they could be? Y'know...?" Alistair asked, chuckling before the young girl's face darkened.

"I doubt it. My mother is dead."

Alistair felt like slapping his face as he groaned silently. "You're an idiot, Alistair," he muttered as the young mage tilted her head at him.

"Did you say something?"

"Oh, uh... look at the sky, beautiful?" Alistair quickly replied as the young mage stared back at him, quite amused.

"Mmhm, I guess?"

The youthful mage found herself puzzled by Alistair's enigmatic nature. Despite this, she couldn't help but relish the time spent in his company. His attempts at humour, though often lacking, were endearing, and she appreciated his efforts to lighten the mood. Through their interactions, the mage had come to view Alistair as a kind and considerate individual, always striving to ensure her comfort and ease. And she appreciated it immensely.

Soon enough, both arrived at a small camp on the edge of Ostagar and there, the young mage found herself surrounded by a group of strange people.

"These are the Wardens?" She muttered slowly, holding her staff tightly with fear in her eyes, like a baby deer in the forest.

"Recruits," Duncan said as he appeared from the shadows of the camp, holding a sort of scroll. "They are all recruits. Each of them came from a different background, either from Dalish, a noble house, an Alienage or the deep kingdom of Orzammar. But after becoming a Grey Warden, all of that won't matter at the end of the day."

Duncan stated, observing the group of people. A more significant set of recruits than he intended. Yet he felt that it was not enough. Against the Blight, it was never enough. However, Duncan had a duty. They all have a commitment to Thedas, to the world.

"Alistair, here, these are the instructions to follow. You know what to do," Duncan said as Alistair groaned internally, as he could sense a sort of stress rising among the recruits.

"Of course, Duncan," Alistair sighed, already feeling a sense of tiresome.

"Good. I have a meeting with the King. Try to take to be hasty since if our scouts are right. The main Darkspawn horde should arrive here by nightfall."

Upon hearing those words, a few of the other recruits threw disapproving and uneasy glances in the speaker's direction. Duncan had already departed, leaving Alistair to bear the full weight of responsibility for all of them. As the only active Warden in Ferelden, it fell solely upon Alistair to manage the situation.

Alistair just rubbed the back of his neck as he chuckled nervously. "Yeah... uhm. Why don't we start with introductions? My name is Alistar. I am the current... and only Grey Warden, besides Duncan, I mean."

Alistair stared around and could only hear some eerie silence. No one spoke to him, which was quite insulting, at least to him. "Eh, what about you?" Alistair asked the Dwarf, whose cold and emotionless face could be mistaken for one of a dead person.

As the rest observed the scene, they noticed a Dwarf perched atop a large boulder, seemingly in his own little world. He meticulously polished his warhammer as soon as his gaze fixed on the group with a steady, serious expression. He took a deep breath, and with a deep voice, he spoke.

"Lofrag Aeducan, I am from..." Lofrag paused, realising that he had been exiled for a crime that he did not commit. He tightly closed his hand and then let out a long breath. "Was from a noble house of Orzammar."

The flow of the conversation continued, as next to the Dwarf, leaning on a pillar from one of the ruins of the abandoned fortress that was Ostagar, away from the light, a hooded person was standing. The person emitted a hissing sound, suggesting annoyance and irritation.

"Lyna Mahariel of the Sabrae Clan," With a confident flair, the Dalish revealed her face, proudly displaying her Vallaslin. It symbolised her deep connection to her people and their ancient traditions. Although for some, a mark of ancient glories.

"Is that Mythal's Vallaslin?" Another elf asked, and Lyna could only reply with another hiss.

"Yes," Lyna said, inspecting the other Elf. "I am surprised you know about it. You don't seem to be one of us."

The other Elf frowned deeply as he stared at the Dalish Elf. "What do you mean by not one of us? I am an Elf too!"

"You're an Elf, but not a Dalish. My people," Lyna replied, almost scoffing at him, even looking down on him as if he was something else. "You're from an Alienage, aren't you? I can smell it from miles away."

The Elf was hurt by the other's sneering tone and attitude, which made them feel even more inferior. It was particularly painful coming from someone who should have been more understanding and compassionate to the suffering of their specie.

"Now, now, let's get along. We are in this together," Alistair stated nervously, trying to dissipate the tension away. 

The Elf in question glared at Lyna before looking at the group. "I am Kalian Tabris... I am an Elf from Denerim's Alienage. And proud of my race."

Lyna could be heard snorting on the side, almost mockingly, but Kalian decided to ignore it. 

"My name is Catherine Cousland," another woman spoke, yet that voice sounded almost depressing, a whisper even. Alistair knew who that woman was and had heard from Duncan what had transpired with the Cousland family. Catherine seems to still be grieving the death of her mother and father, but more importantly. Deep inside her, the desire for vengeance was growing. 

Although the other individuals in the group were all grown adults, with some even having prior experience in combat, the young mage girl appeared to be overwhelmed as she stood before them. Their intense gazes bore down on her, and she struggled to summon the courage to introduce herself to the group. Thankfully, Alistair gently nudged her, smiling at her, calming the young girl.

"Hello," she spoke nervously, almost stammering. "M-My name is Elia Amell! And I am Mage, from the Circle of Magi!"

The young girl spoke nervously, feeling all the gazes upon her now.

"You're so young," Catherine whispered, amazed and worried. "How old are you?"

"Fifteen..." Elia responded, suddenly feeling everyone looking at her in shock.

"Fifteen?" Kalian repeated in a whisper, trying to come up with terms about the age of the young mage. Even the Dwarf Lofrag gave a sort of amused stare at the girl.

"A child?" Lyna muttered, equally surprised, if not a bit offended, to be put next to a child. "It is wise to have such a young Mage with us?" Lyna asked abruptly, giving Elia dirty looks, to which Alistar simply stepped ahead, looking at Lyna directly into her eyes.

"She is the best the Circle of Magic can offer. Otherwise, she wouldn't be here," Alistair stated firmly, glancing around the group, almost daring them to speak up.

Lyna huffed, but in her eyes, there was a glimpse of worry for the young mage girl. It seemed that Lyna was not as heartless as she appeared to be, or maybe it was for some other reason.

"I meant no offence, Miss Elia," Catharine replied gently. "Just worry, that's all. But I trust your abilities."

As Elia gazed at Catharine, she couldn't help but notice a certain aura of protective warmth emanating from the noblewoman. It was almost as if Catharine was assuming the role of an older sister, seeking to ensure Elia's comfort and security throughout their joint travels. Elia didn't mind, honestly. 

"Thank you," Elia muttered, suddenly looking down, avoiding everyone else's gaze.

"Whatever," Lyna quietly expressed her concern while quickly glancing at the girl. Shortly after, Daveth and Jory showed up as new recruits, but no one paid much attention to them.

"Well, now we all know each other, we can now hold hands," Alistair stated, as the silence of each one of them was his answer. "Fine, don't hold hands, meanies."

That did bring a soft chuckle from Elia, which Alistair thanked with a playful wink.

"Now, we had a task at hand. We are to go to the Korcari Wilds and seek some ingredients. The faster, the better."

"So be it," Lofrag grunted, standing up and putting his warhammer on his shoulder.

As the rest of the individuals gathered their gear and began to walk away, it became apparent that each of them had a distinct motivation for being there. One person may have been seeking a fresh start, a chance to begin anew, while another was driven by a desire to make amends for past transgressions. For someone else, it may have been an opportunity to seek retribution. Regardless of their individual reasons, they were all on the cusp of becoming Grey Wardens - a group of misfits who would ultimately play a pivotal role in a war that would forever alter the Thedas, for better or for worse.

[autisticsupervillain]

It's Fictional Throwdown Friday!

This Week's Fighters...

Aradia Megido vs Jade Harley!

Conditions:

Both are God-Tiered. "Dubiously Canon" materials are ignored.

Scenario:

Aradia finds herself utterly bored by her newfound peaceful life on Earth C. To alleviate this boredom, Aradia challenges Jade to a friendly spar, eager to see how much havoc two God-Tiers throwing down could cause.

Analysis: Aradia

Time. The endless circle that drives all of creation forward. The primordial Aspect of inevitability and fate. Things are born. They live. They die. Time is a spirograph, made up of endless cycles. A complex machine that creates a spectacular explosion when its cycles are undone.

Aradia Megido was once a cog in this machine. A slave to inevitability. It's machniations changed her from a cheery girm with terrifying hobbies, into an apathetic servant. A Maid whose only interest was serving Time.

Aradia first died as a result of a gruesome cycle of revenge. After Vriska Serket tossed Aradia's close friend Tavros off of a cliff, Aradia got even by plaguing Serket with the ghosts of her pervious victims. In reply, Vriska mind controlled Aradia's boyfriend Sollux and had him vaporize her entirely.

This brutal demise, as well as the prophecies of an inevitable apocalypse that her ghost friends shared with her, evaporated Aradia's once cheery demeanor, turning her into a cold, emotionless cynic who soulless obeyed Time's every whim so that the timeline could be preserved. Her resurrection into a robot did little to help her disposition, especially since the guy that built the body tried to program her into falling in love with him, which soured any positive feelings she could have had for her new body.

When Aradia and all her friends were given the opportunity to become Gods of the new universe, thanks to a magically game called SGRUB, Time and Fate had to ruin that for her too, as Aradia had to actively keep her friends from becoming God-Tier and manipulate the whole game from the background just to keep the rules of fate from declaring her timeline void and wiping her from existence. There was an upside to this situation though, aside from the cool Time powers. Aradia was given an opportunity to hand Vriska her smug, manipulative ass, which was doubtlessly cathartic.

It wasn't until Aradia died... again, that she got given a new perspective on life. Because her dream self happened to die on her Quest Bed, Aradia was revived as a fully realized Maid of Time. A literal God of Time. She was done being Time's puppet and she was tired of bowing to Fate's whims. Aradia was free, truly alive for the first time in her life, and she was going to see just how much havoc she could wreak on the timeline.

Even before becoming a God, Aradia was easily one of the most powerful Players in the entire game. Capable of manipulating time to an extent, Aradiabot could summon hundreds of herself at will from all across the timeline, making her a giant walking army. Scaling off of Dave's capabilities, she should potentially be capable of creating billions of time clones, as Dave was able to create enough time clones to create and manage a planet wide corporation staffed entirely by himself. Even after becoming a God herself, Vriska freely admitted that she was no match for Aradiabot, which takes some doing on Serket's part, given her ego.

As a God-Tier, Aradia's powers are magnified greatly. Not only is she now able to stop time at her leisure, but she's capable of competing even with First Guardians, or those fused with them. These God-like, nigh-omniscient beings are tasked with protecting their assigned planet so that the Players who will be born on it can one day play SBURB and create the next universe. To this end, they are directly linked to the First Sun, providing them with an immeasurable amount of power.

Case in point, Doc Scratch was once caught between two exploding universes and was completely... unscrathed (ba-dum-tish)... well, not counting his severed leg, but that's from a prior injury, not the blast. Moreover, universes in Homestuck are noted to contain infinite timelines and possibilities within them, making them more akin to infinitely sized multiverses. And Aradia is shown to generally be comparable to such beings. Not only is she able to hold back Bec Noir with her time stop, but she should comparable to Dave Strider, a fellow Time Player God-Tier with several of the same abilities, who could hold off both Bec Noir and Peregrine Mendicant, albiet temporarily.

Hell, the fact that she can react to Bec at all speaks wonders for her spead. Scaling off of a God-Tiered Rose Lalonde, Bec should be fast enough to travel along the entire surface of the Green Sun, which is the size of several universes. Being able to traverse an infinite amount of distance like this in a finite amount of time would grant most God-Tiers an infinite amount of speed, but even discounting that, being able to move in the Furthest Ring like that at all is crazy. The Furthest Ring is a higher dimensional location where time and space function nonlinearly. In order to move through space, you must also move through time in that same direction. This is why Aradia was needed to push the meteor into the Furthest Ring, moving would be completely impossible in it otherwise. Imagine being so fast, you can move a certain direction through time. Imagine moving so fast, you win a race one second before it started. That's how fast Homestuck God-Tiers would have to be to move through the Furthest Ring at all.

This just makes Aradia's Time Stop more impressive by extension. She can Time Stop people who can move Faster Than Time. Well... kinda. Aradia herself admitted that she can't keep Bec frozen forever and that she would eventually die if she didn't get out of her predicament. So, she timed the moment she let Bec go just right so that she would collide with him the split second his body became a portal to the Green Sun. This shows that she has a keen tactical mind even without Fate pulling her strings.

And finally, she gets all the benefits that regular God-Tiers and Players do. Including a Hammerspace video game inventory, a leveling system that insures she gets stronger just by doing random things, and conditional immortality that protects her from aging and dying so long as her Death isn't Heroic or Just. Meaning, so long as she didn't die whilst doing something Heroic or something that means her death was justified, she will come back from anything short of complete existence erasure on the very conceptual level or if the clock meant to decide her fate is broken. She's also a master with the whip, but given everything else about her, she hardly needs it.

Time is the Aspect of inevitability. That's why it's inevitable that this Time Player will easily kick your fucking ass.

Analysis: Jade

Is there a thing in the world more isolating and lonely than space? Where else can you see billions of lights and lives in every direction you look, yet be so far from any of them. The life of the Space bound SBURB Player is often sn inherently lonely one and no one understands that better than Jade Harley.

Jade Harley was raised on an island, far away from any human civilization. Her only company was her long dead Grandfather, whose corpse she stuffed herself at an early age, and the First Guardian of Earth, Becquarel. Needless to say, a nigh-omniscient god dog did not make for relatable company, so Jade has to look elsewhere for friendship. As Bec wouldn't let her leave the island, Jade had to use the internet to make friends. The good news is this allowed her to meet Dave, Rose, and John, her closest friends. The bad news is, this allowed the Trolls to contact her, giving them free reign to harass her for something she hadn't even done yet.

All things considered, it's no wonder Jade was so excited when SBURB came along and destroyed the world. It meant that she would get to meet her friends and she didn't see enough of this world to ever actually get attached to it. Sadly, her idea of what would happen in SBURB quickly crumbled. Not only was she the last Player to even join the game, but she was thrown into a life or death scenario where there was no guarantee that she or her friends would even survive long enough to meet at all. This pressure, combined with the continued harassment from the trolls, and the reveal that one of the trolls murdered her father in a misguided attempt to protect her, slowly drove her into a stress induced break down, chipping away at her cheery and optimistic demeanor.

Worst of all, however, was what happened when she went God-Tier. Because of the circumstances of her God-Tiering, Jade wound up getting permanently fused with Becquarel, ensuring he would never see her sole physical companion ever again. Which stands to be a pretty shitty trade off for Godhood no matter how you look at it.

On the plus side, she got to spend the next three years bonding with her close friend/long lost biological sibling John, and even had a brief romantic relationship with an alternate timeline version of Dave. Things were starting to look up, if it weren't for the whole "battle for the fate of all reality" thing that was looming just ahead, for which Jade turned out to be a massive liability.

As it turns out, being part dog made Jade susceptible to being controlled by animal controlling powers, making her easy pickings for the galactic tyrant Her Imperious Condescension to take advantage of. With all of her First Guardian powers turned against her friends, the Heroes defeat was all but assured. This forces John to use his new time travel powers to retcon away the timeline and fix everything. In this new timeline, the mind controlled Jade is put to sleep immediately by Vriska, nullifying her as a threat.

Whilst asleep, Jade meets and speaks with fellow Space Player Calliope, and the two bond over their shared isolation, with Calliope parting ways with her after a heart felt chat.

While Jade Harley might be the friendliest of the humans, she's arguably the most powerful by a massive margin. Being both a Space Player and a First Guardian makes for a deadly combination. Not only does she have all the strength and speed common to First Guardians, but her plethora of hax makes her a nightmare to go up against. She can shrink planets down to fit inside the palm of her hand, teleport herself and others across the universe, and turn her own body into a portal to redirect attacks. She has access to Bec's keen sense of smell, able to track scents across entire planets, and has all of the abilities common to SBURB Players and god-tiers on top of that. It's hard enough to fight a giant, let along one that just keeps getting stronger as you fight it.

Jade is also an expert marksman, proving to be proficient with hunting rifles and guns from an early age. When used in conjunction with her new First Guardian powers, she can be percise enough to target and hit individual molecules. And if you think you can use your time powers to get away, you've got another thing coming. Even if your time stop is powerful enough to get past the whole "faster than time" thing, Time Stop only holds a First Guardian in place for so long and it took all of Aradia's concentration to keep Bec Noir still.

Before you step up to this Witch of Space, you must remember one simple fact. In Space, no one can hear you scream.

Throwdown Mashup:

Throwdown Breakdown:

Alright, let's break this down.

Both characters here are roughly equal in stats, as they scale to the same feats. Infinite multiversal attack potency and immeasurable speed for both. It's powers and skills that are going to determine this fight.

In this area, they both have some advantages. Jade is always going to have range on lock. Not only does she have a better ranged weapon, but teleportation and portal creation are going to keep Aradia at a distance. Aradia, meanwhile, will always have the range advantage, as she can call in as many time clones as she wants. One the one hand, Jade can combat this issue by just shrinking them, but nothing is stopping Aradia from just calling in more time clones from before she got shrunk.

On the other hand, Jade is going to be resistant against Aradia's time stop, severely hampering its usefulness by making it only temporary. Aradia can still use it to get some hits in, sure, but it's not gonna be the fight winner anymore like it otherwise would be.

Now, despite the fact that neither character can die and both of them know this, I don't see this ending in a kill. Simply because neither girl is really all that mean. If this were Aradiabot then sure, but given Aradia's character development since then, I'm wagering that the worst this escalates too is a knockout. It just isn't in character for Jade to squash Aradia like a bug or for Aradia to choke Jade out with her whip or something.

This is why I'm not considering the idea of Jade destroying Aradia's molecules or anything like that. It's not something she would do in this situation.

As far as skill and intelligence goes, Jade's aim is astounding and her own feats of skill in the game and in fighting easily measure up to Aradia's own, such as being able to take on the likes of Dirk while Grimbark (which I'm counting because Jade's personality is still intact and she's able to strategize on her own while Grimbark). Aradia, however, is noticeably better at improvisation. Take note of the portal trick she did against Bec Noir, especially as it shows how Aradia could improvise against Jade's own power set.

Ultimately, though, I'm giving this to Aradia. Keep in mind, it did take all of Aradia's concentration to keep Bec Noir in place... hut that was just one Aradia. If Aradia were to get her time clones out before freezing Jade, then Aradia would be able to beat her up while the one Aradia keeps her still. Combine that with Aradia's proven ability to improvise around Jade's power set and I'm giving the edge, however slight, to Aradia.

This Throwdown's Winner is...

Aradia Megido!

[tokyohousamosimps]

I could imagine a moment where the MCs sick some mobs on each other before they meet up somewhere.

That sounds like a normal weekend for them. The MCs like to have their fun before they meet each other for more important matters since they aren't always with each other 24/7. They gotta relieve their stress or boredom somehow.

What's more, they don't even feel guilty when they sic the mobs against each other because the people they target are those who attacked them in the past loop/s for no reason, particularly in the Chapter 12 incident where the mobs put the blame on MC for the whole game being 'rigged' even though the MC didn't even know what was happening themselves.

The way they go about it differs, though.

MC 1 - They're an absolute menace, and when I say menace, I really mean it with vehement fondness. Think of Hanuman's agility and stealth but ramp it up to a hundred. They like to see quick fights so they usually instigate the fight behind the scenes. For example, two people could just be going in opposite directions and MC 1 could make one of those person stumble and bumped against the other's shoulder to start an argument which would then transition to a full on fight. They'll just watch and laugh nearby-- maybe perched up on a rooftop-- as the two unfortunate victims get into a brawl, entertained by the bloody beatdown they're witnessing just from a small misunderstanding.

MC 2 - Surprisingly enough, they're the one instigating the fights first. They like to do it in places with lots of crowd like a bar or a club because it turns to a huge free-for-all and most of the time, no one even knows who started the fight once it's all over. They start the fight by attacking someone random and after getting a few punches and kicks here and there, they'll immediately withdraw from the fight, acting as if they had nothing to do with it. But by then, the brawl would have already become a huge commotion with people left and right being pulled into the fray. The person they attacked won't even notice them slipping away, too busy trying to attack the person who they thought was the one who started it.

MC 3 - They don't really see the need to antagonize anyone. Even if they start a fight, what joy would that bring them? They can't feel anything, too numb and depressed to find pleasure in most things. However, if one of their siblings asked them to start a fight or if their Father ordered them to, they would. Though, they're not as good in stealth as MC 1 and MC 2 are or have the motivation to plan a long term strategy like MC 4 or MC 5 so they just go to gangs to beat them up and pretend they're from a rival gang. Most of the time, those groups don't even try to find out why their rivals would attack them and just do a counterattack, which would make the rival group do a counterattack and it just goes into an endless cycle of whodunit.

MC 4 - I have stated this before and I will state it again: psychological warfare. They like to play the long con and draw out their little game of mental manipulation. They particularly like to target those with close friend groups and have a delight in breaking it apart, piece by piece. It's quite easy for them to integrate themselves into the group. Just change their personality a bit to fit with the others and viola! It's like they're a brand new person! And once they've got everyone's trust in them, they just sprinkle a little bit of lies here and there, spread a rumor or two. Sow the seeds of discord, so to speak. It's not their fault if the rumor starts to get increasingly worse and worse. Even as the friend group starts to go down in flames, no one would even think to blame them because they're much too innocent and honest to even be considered the source of the rumors.

MC 5 - They're sadistic, plain and simple. They like to play with their victims, horror movie style, just to prove a point and establish that they're the one who has the power. Their style would be similar MC 4. The only thing drawn out is their planning because it mostly involves kidnapping their victims, trapping them in an enclosed space, and making them turn on each other. They like to see how long one's mental fortitude can hold on before they inevitably start acting like animals and begin throwing each other under the bus. Though, they only do this from time to time. They're busy with other much more important things, you know?

All in all, their victims do not have a great time. The MCs aren't really killing anyone, thanks to Lil' Sal whose efforts is the only thing stopping the MCs from tipping over the edge and keeping the damages to a minimum. He's not getting paid enough for this and he isn't even getting paid at all...

[lipstickghoulie]

Hey, I haven’t written fanfiction in like a decade but I saw that no one had done anything with this yet so here’s something? Hope it’s kind of what you were hoping for, even if it didn’t hit all the points of what you wanted, at least not yet! Apologies in advance for any formatting errors, I wrote this out in an email draft. I can try to flesh this out more in the future if there’s any interest. Either way, here you go, @easy-there-leftovers!

•“And we are all merely players”

•Astarion/gender neutral reader

Rating: Adult for mentions of sex, though no descriptions of the actual act

He’s not sure how many cycles there may have been before he became aware of them but once his eyes were opened, they stayed that way.

One moment, he had been burning up in the sunlight, running for shelter and cursing any gods that would listen over the unfairness of their merry group defeating the Absolute, Cazador, every obstacle in their way, only to be denied this-

And then the next moment, he was back on the grass where he had met Tav in the first place. Astarion flinched, expecting his skin to still scorch and smoke under the rays of the sun but nothing happened, other than the rays being pleasantly warm. Before he could really get his bearings and figure out what he was doing back here, not burnt to a crisp, people approached and he found himself up and repeating the words he had said to Tav what seemed like a lifetime ago. He bade them to help him with the imaginary intellect devourer in the bushes and once more his blade was at their throat.

But this wasn’t his Tav, was it? They were called by the same name as before by everyone else, nothing amiss but they had a different appearance, race, class than before. Yet nothing seemed amiss to anyone else and Astarion seemed confined to the same conversations he had before with them, the same trite lines and seductions, the same, same, same, day in and day out. Then, once the world was saved and everyone having their proverbial endings, then the cycle started again, and again, and AGAIN…

Part of him chafed at the routine, at feeling trapped. How different was this from when he was enslaved under Cazador, having to be on an endless carousel of seeking out victims, seducing them, being tortured and tormented? This was just trading pain for banality, for boredom. What was even the purpose of this game? Astarion didn’t dwell on whether he was real, if this was all just some illusionary magic to entertain some feckless god, not that interested in the existentialism of it all, he just knew that he was aware now and it all bored him.

Going through the same motions over again did give him more time to study the actions of Tav, though. Astarion found that he had been wrong, in a way, about it being a different Tav every time. Sure, yes, they looked changed every cycle and even sounded differently, but they tended to pick the same choices over and over. They responded in way in conversations with others that would tend to amuse him, they almost always saved the tieflings, they always told the horrid drow woman in Moonrise Towers that they would not press him to bite her…

And maybe that was what started to endear him to this unknown entity a little. The initial step towards Astarion’s curiosity being piqued, towards things starting to change. No matter what, the person pulling the strings behind Tav never seemed to push Astarion’s boundaries in any way. They seemed to favor him, giving him the best equipment and healing him first when needed in the heat of battle. Astarion wasn’t blind to how he was brought along on most journeys outside of camp, even when Tav was themselves a rogue on a new cycle and didn’t need that particular skill set.

Most cycles now, they wouldn’t even sleep with him after that initial seduction route, as if they now knew ahead of time about his… past and his attitude towards sex. At first, Astarion was relieved, glad to not have to be forced to perform in that way for whatever creature was forcing this foul series of events to repeat without end.

It was nearly flattering to have someone who cared so much about him that they just wanted to speak to him, even if it was just to have the same conversations dozens of times. When was the last time that someone had cared that much about what Astarion had to say without the ulterior motive of getting into his pants? Had anyone ever cared enough that they would endure the same horrors over and over, just to hear his voice? That they would tread over the same paths again and again, even perishing in the same battles repeatedly, just to do so at his side?

Is this what it felt like to be a god, to be worshiped and revered?

Not that Astarion liked it! Of course not! It was just sort of adorable, in a pathetic way, how hung up on him that they were.

After a while, he began to feel almost… irritated that they kept keeping things so sweet and platonic with him now, for reasons that he couldn’t explain. This unknown power clearly liked him the most, had never romanced anyone in camp besides him despite their obvious come-ons towards Tav, always spoke to him and made the same sympathetic noises about his trauma every single time. So why wouldn’t they take things further, why would they deny themselves this?

A small, ugly part of Astarion almost wondered if it just hadn’t been good enough the first time around and that’s why it hadn’t been repeated. But that couldn’t be true, could it? He had over two hundred years to refine that skill, to perfect his seduction techniques, to know the right things to do and say to get anyone panting after him. So it couldn’t be that, right?

Right?!

Still, that ugliness festered in him for several repeats of old events, growing darker and more irritable even as he told himself that he didn’t give a shit whether or not some entity, that he didn’t even know what they actually looked like, didn’t want to fuck him. Who cared? Certainly not him.

Astarion didn’t care at all.

One night in camp, relatively early into a new cycle as they had barely made it into the Emerald Grove, Astarion could feel this resentment and annoyance bubbling over as Tav spent an abnormally long time speaking to Shadowheart while he stood there, waiting for them to make their rounds and make their way over to him. Did Tav always spend this long speaking to the cleric? He didn’t think so, at least not when it was this early into the usual routine. What could they find so interesting about her right now when dear Shadowheart usually wouldn’t even reveal anything about herself at this point, not even her worship of Shar. Astarion didn’t believe that his fellow party members were as aware as he was, at least not judging by the times that he found himself peering into their eyes and searching their expressions, so she couldn’t be going off-script, could she? Not even to try to turn Tav’s attention from him onto herself?

…Could he do that though? If he really tried? Astarion had never pushed hard to try to say anything other than the same lines, same old tired words and petty flirtations before. But what if he did? What would happen if he broke out of these trite old habits and did something, anything, new?

Maybe it was the irritation boiling in his veins, maybe it was the half-moon indents in Astarion’s palms from his nails biting into his flesh as he waited impatiently for Tav to saunter over to him, but he found it remarkably easy to blurt out, “Have sex with me tonight.”

If it wasn’t for his joy at saying something different for once, Astarion would have winced at how blunt and unpracticed at seduction that his statement sounded, hitting both of their ears like a fireball thrown from above. Tav did that strange thing they did sometimes where they just stood there for twenty seconds or so, blinking and face blank but not responding between that, before finally responding with a shocked and horrified, “what?!”

Throwing all caution to the wind, not sure if he would be able to get all of the words out before being forced to say his lines again like an actor held at spell point, Astarion demanded firmly, “Have sex with me tonight. We’ve done it before, you don’t do it any more but I’m clearly your favorite. Why keep kidding ourselves? We’ve been through this enough times that you can’t still think that I’m struggling with my bodily autonomy, especially when I’m being controlled in other ways, right, my pet?”

Tav did that thing where they went really still again and empty, as if the thing on the other side was doing something that made them leave this vessel alone and unattended to. There was a flash of something in Tav’s eyes though, just now, that made Astarion lean in and pay attention, eyes searching theirs eagerly. It almost looked like a faraway image of a human person, scrambling and panicked, hair frizzy and unflattering, nose shape not one that suited their face, clothes wrinkled and in a slovenly state…

Astarion felt what could have been his undead heart lurch in his chest, a triumphant grin stretching over his face as he realized that this was the one controlling everything, this was the one who had the little crush on him as they pulled strings all around him just to earn his approval in this parody of life.

“Hello, there, darling” he crooned darkly, hand reaching out to grab Tav by the chin, fingers digging uncaringly into the flesh of the puppet as he addressed the one who operated it, leaving indents that he could bet would turn into bruises in the shapes of his fingertips from the sheer force of his grip. “I see you now-“

Restart. He’s back near the crashed nautiloid in what feels like is no time at all, so quickly that he nearly sprawls out on the ground with none of his usual grace and poise. It takes a moment for Astarion to process what had just happened since they’ve never started over this early before but when he does, a slow, smug smirk stretches over his face.

Oh, they got spooked, did they? He’d have to be less forward next time, be a little more subtle. But now that he knew that he could speak to them directly, could affect them like this?

Astarion would be having a lot of fun from now on. And if he got a chance to figure out how to speak to this puppet master face to face and maybe get them under his thumb instead, reverse their roles? Even better, he’d say.

Shouldn’t one who was so obsessed with him and his approval get to meet him without an avatar in the way? Wouldn’t they be ever so grateful for the attention from one they admired so thoroughly?

He can feel footsteps approaching though, and Astarion straightens, making sure that his knife is at the ready, that he remembers how this is supposed to go, the exact inflections of his voice as he calls out to Tav for their help.

After all, the show must go on. For now, at least.

Unhinged moment of weakness, but I am craving an Astarion x reader fic in which Astarion recognizes the player beyond the screen—

Whether he thinks they’re disgusting. Pouring over long hours on the game in the attempts to romance him, or thinks they’re amusing. Their diligence in the pursuit of the story and him, honestly, always an entertaining pastime.

All he wants is to meet you. The you that governs this caricature of who you truly are. The you that curses under their breath every time the dice roll deals you a bad hand. The you that looks forward to greeting him after a long and tiring day of higher education or work…

He will do anything to bring you to him. To ensure that another day will not come where he is faced with the Tav that can only be a diluted version of yourself.

Edit: On another note, wouldn’t it be fun if the reader was just the tiniest bit unconventionally attractive?

Sure, they’re not ugly but in comparison to their character, the beloved “leader” of their little party that they’ve prettied up for their own comfort, their eyes are ringed with darkness due to long nights spent on the game and doing art.

Skin, more dull as their only form of self care is through the escapism role playing gives them.

And hair all matted or frizzy as they believe no one will witness their unsightly appearance in the odd hours of dusk.

Yet Astarion does. And he is more confused about his feelings for you more than ever. He admits to himself that, surely, he could be interested in someone far more beautiful. Like your character. Gods, there are people far more beautiful than Tav anyway. And yet, it’s you. It’s you that he wants.

But why?

[pxppet]

Thinking about Chase with extreme accurate aim powers who Anti - rather than the strain of possession constantly - bribes and manipulates until he agrees to use his ability to kill. After the first it's too late to go back. Anti convinces Chase he'll always protect him, if he uses his powers to become a mercenary on Anti's behalf. "Living weapon" trope ensues as Anti is completely uninterested in between jobs, which leaves Chase homeless, on the run, and alone. Anti wires him stolen cash, but usually just throws out what he buys next time they need to run. Eventually he's just always desperate for Anti, scared and bored and empty without an order to follow. Did he have a family once? He's well into his 40s and has killed so many people - innocent or not, if that even matters now. Chase sometimes has dreams of soft baby's tummies and a woman calling his name lovingly, but he figures they're dead anyway, so doesn't dwell on it. Just waits in his hotel rooms or tents Anti sets him up with and taps his feet in boredom. Sometimes buys cheap food, but at this point he's hardly ever hungry. Hell, sometimes it's like he's craving a new task, a new kill, just to have something to do. Anti doesn't even give him a ball to bounce around. His once fun trickshot powers only know guns and darts now. Chase feels more gun than skin, more weapon than man. But he always listens. It's the only option any more. Just the emptiness and then the adrenaline and over again, endless cycle. Fucking circles, or something like that. Chase doesn't find himself caring much anymore. Anti's praise and Anti's orders are all he lives for; all he was ever meant to be.

Edit: sketched him!

[piecksz]

forget me too. | (m)

pairing: modern punk!bakugo x fem!reader 

warnings: nsfw, angst, cheating, oral sex, penetrative sex, angry sex, choking, fingering, exes with benefits, mentions of breeding, hair pulling, explicit language, toxic relationship, manipulation, reader just being a lovesick puppy but wouldn’t we all be if it came to bakugo

summary: it’s been a year since you broke up with bakugo after you found him cheating on you, and you swore you’d moved on from him, but when you run into him again at a record shop, you fall back into a dangerous cycle of love and hate

words: 9,800+

a/n: so i gave in and watched downfalls high, and i’m not gonna lie, it wasn’t the best piece of media i’ve ever consumed, but mgk’s feature track with halsey kind of ate (AND IT LITERALLY INSPIRED SO MANY ANGSTY IDEAS I WAS ITCHINGGG). therefore, this is said angsty idea. you can listen to the song forget me too by machine gun kelly (feat. halsey) while reading, that’s if you’re really daring. good luck lol 

If there was one thing in the world you couldn’t fully understand, it was the type of girls who hated their ex-boyfriends, twirling their hair flirtatiously and giggling at all their pitiful punchlines one week, and the next, hatching bogus rumors to discourage other girls from seeking them out romantically, letting them know that their charm came at a price.

Until it was Bakugo.

You genuinely didn’t see it coming. You weren’t even able to recognize the severity of the situation until you were convulsing with the gravity of your sobs, shrieking at him in front of his apartment. Bakugo had called you earlier that evening to reschedule your previously-arranged dinner date since his friend Kirishima was in town, and he wanted to dedicate the rest of the night to catching up with his old schoolmate. You happily forfeited your own plans and instead opted to rendezvous with your boyfriend and his familiar later in the week, but as the night hauled on your favorite TV show no longer satiated your boredom.

Shuffling into the kitchen and scouring your cabinet for ingredients, you drew up the idea to bake some sweets for Bakugo and Kirishima because you figured it would be a nice surprise, however once you arrived at Bakugo’s place you deduced quickly that his friend wasn’t over. It should have been notably clear that something was unusual by the way he was hesitant to let you in.

He poked his head out from behind the privacy of his front door, definitely surprised to see you, but not in the way you had hoped.

“Y/N,” he greeted you with a tight-lipped expression, eyes dropping to the tub of sugar cookies in your hands. “What are you doing here? Why didn’t you call me to let me know you were coming over?”

You hummed after detecting a subtle edge in his voice. “I wanted to surprise you.” You rose to your toes to look past his head. “I thought you said your friend was coming over.”

Bakugo nodded, and once he extended his hand to accept your treats you could see that his torso was bare. “Idiot had to cancel at the last minute. School shit. He said he’ll be here tomorrow.”

Your grip tightened on the container. 

If his friend couldn’t make it then why didn’t he let you know? The two of you still could have made it to your dinner reservations.

And in that moment, you swore your internal monologue was loud enough to hear, because you immediately received your answer when you heard a soft, feminine voice come from inside his apartment.

“Who the fuck is that?” you barked, trying to outbalance Bakugo’s weight on the door. “Bakugo you little fucking shit--let me in.” It was a moment-long game between the two of you until Bakugo gave in, accepting the reality that he’d already been caught. You stumbled into the door as it swung open, revealing his company.

She was petite with short blonde hair, wearing a panicked expression that matched Bakugo’s oversized flannel on her naked body almost impeccably. You stared at each other until you broke the tense silence with a quiet holy shit.

“Holy shit,” you repeated louder, blinking as fast as you could to hold back the salty tears that were beginning to cloud your vision. “You fucking dick!” You didn’t notice how forceful your voice had gotten until you were shouting at him, the immense pressure building in your chest making your voice crack. You hurled every vulgar name in the book at Bakugo who couldn’t even look you in the eye while you cried in front of him.

This couldn’t have been the same man you once saw your future playing out with. The hell unfolding in front of you was exactly what your friends, Momo and Ochako, had predicted once you disclosed your interest in Bakugo. They warned you that he had a record on campus, with multiple girls, and yet somehow when he wooed you with sweet words and thoughtful gifts, just like they said he would, you still thought you were different. The worst part of it all was that he wasn’t a terrible guy by any means. He was a little rough around the edges with a temper, but he was hilarious and passionate, all while being profound and smart.

In your fantasies the two of you were married, and then came babies with tufts of your tresses and the mischief of his ruby eyes. He would have been a winner, if he wasn’t so emotionally incompetent. Perhaps you were naive to assume what you and Bakugo had was love just because he said so.

Your quivering fingers worked unsteadily against the lid of the tupperware. You tossed it aside before dumping the container’s contents on the floor of his apartment and hurled the empty food saver at him.

“Come fucking on Y/N,” he said wearily. The fucking nerve he had to act tired.

“Enjoy your cookies,” you responded venomously, leaving quickly before another set of tears came surging.

The next several months were excruciating, and the pain you experienced was nothing compared to its onset. If you weren’t spending days cocooned in bed to sleep off the fatigue of your endless crying, then you were on your couch, staring unamused while Blair Waldorf waltzed across your TV screen. 

At least she got her happy fucking ending. Good for her. 

You couldn’t even find the energy to eat, and ice cream was not the cure-all for heartbreaks like everyone lied and said it was.

Every so often Momo and Ochako would pay you a visit. For the first few weeks they let you mourn, consoling you and cleaning up the litter of crumpled tissues around your apartment. After the first month, they suggested that maybe meeting someone new would be the best way to help you forget about your break up, but you didn’t want to meet someone new. You just wanted to know if Bakugo missed you too.

Once your grades started slipping, you used that as an excuse to turn to isolation and lose yourself in your schoolwork. The distraction left you with no leisure time to scroll through old photos of you and Bakugo in your phone, and within a couple months, you swore that you’d finally moved on from him.

But it seemed all of that was forgotten the moment you recognized his head of spiky blonde hair from the next aisle over in the record shop, and you silently cursed the universe’s cruel way of working, that all-knowing bitch.

You kept your head down, pretending to be overtly interested in the Kendrick Lamar vinyl you held in your hands, but you couldn’t stop peeking over the shelf to see if Bakugo had moved from his spot.

You could hear him shuffling, and every time you looked up, he was a step closer to the end of the aisle, meaning that your game plan was to move in the opposite direction, so you could slip past him without being detected.

You continued to move one step to the left every time Bakugo moved another step to the right, surely securing your elusive escape, but when you glanced up again, he had disappeared from your line of surveillance. Shit.

“Y/N?”

Shit!

Slowly, you pivoted in the direction of your name only to gawk, horrified, as your ex-boyfriend strolled up to you casually, like he had never ripped your heart out and trampled all over it.

Once he got closer, you realized how generous the year between your break up and now had been to him. His yellow flannel was useless tied around his waist when it should have been on his shoulders instead, covering the way his black Led Zeppelin shirt clung to the impressive build of his upper body.  

“Holy fuck, it is you,” Bakugo said, incredulously. You swore he had grown taller now that he was standing in front of you because you couldn’t remember if he had always towered over you.

“Small world,” you said, distastefully.

“Not really,” Bakugo shrugged. “This is just where I come to slave away for minimum wage.”

You simply blinked at him with a placid expression, unable to decide which of your emotions was best considering the circumstances.

“I almost didn’t recognize you,” he chuckled. “Did you cut your hair?”

You raised an eyebrow plainly. “No.” If anything your hair had grown a few inches longer.

“Highlights?”

“No.”

“Shit seriously?” Bakugo cast his eyes downwards and then back up, sizing up your figure. “Well you look good.”

You could only offer up a dry laugh in response while shaking your head at the peculiarity of the situation.  

“What is wrong with you?” you jeered.  

You couldn’t believe the ease with which he approached you after not seeing you for twelve whole months, especially when six and a half of those months were spent bawling your eyes out over him and trying to repair the heart he broke carelessly.

Bakugo’s blithe expression withered. The look left behind was one of bashful remorse, as if he was embarrassed by the person he was a year ago.

You weren’t even sure if he had really changed since you’d gone out of your way to avoid hearing or seeing anything about him after you claimed to have gotten over him. The real reason was that you felt you couldn’t trust yourself. You feared that if you came across anything having to do with him, you’d descend into another self-destructive, heartache-driven spiral.

“I tried calling to apologize, but you blocked my number. And then blocked me on everything else,” Bakugo explained.

You shifted uncomfortably.

“I never saw you around campus, and when I showed up to your apartment you weren’t home. I felt like horse shit, seriously, but after a while I just gave up, I guess.”

You pursed your lips together at the mention of his attempts to remedy your breakup, specifically because this whole time you could have sworn he didn’t care to fix things with you.

Bakugo leaned in, and you surprised yourself by making no effort to create more distance between the both of you.

“I’m really fucking sorry, Y/N,” he said softly, for once without the gruffness of his usual tone.

If he made the effort to apologize even after a year, that must have meant that he still had some feelings left over for you, right? Did that mean he still loved you? The suspicion made your heart squeeze with expectation.

“Are you sorry that you hurt me, or are you sorry that you got caught?” You questioned.

“Both,” Bakugo snickered tactlessly.

You swore you could have punched his lights out then and there, but he must have noticed the way you tensed up because he looped his arm around you, pulling you in until you nestled into his larger frame.

“I fucking missed you, dumbass.”

Your stomach dropped at the very mention of the words you were longing to hear after your split, and you knew that you weren’t over him. Not even close. Even when you had caught another girl with her hands on him.

Your first mistake was unblocking Bakugo’s number that night, and your second was sending him a text. You stood in the bathroom, dumbfounded by your own actions while you clutched your phone nervously. Thank god he didn’t have his read receipts on. The last thing you needed to know was if he decided to leave you on read after you had just stroked his monumental ego.

You sat your phone aside and proceeded brushing your teeth until you were interrupted by a shrill ding from beside you. You grabbed your phone much too quickly and slid the screen up to be met with a reply from Bakugo.

9:32 PM

bakugo: so i’m still in your phone huh?

9:32 PM:

bakugo: lmao

9:33 PM:

bakugo: thinking about me even after bitching about how much you hate me?

9:34 PM:

bakugo: especially at night that’s hot

You scowled at the messages before putting your phone back down. Using the time it took you to finish brushing your teeth and washing your face, you recited your responses over and over again because as much as you wanted to, you knew it wouldn’t be smart to jump back into your relationship that fast. You still held negative sentiments about what he had done to you, but the pleasure of having him back was slowly beginning to outweigh your earlier feelings.

While shuffling into your bedroom, you kept your eyes glued to your phone screen, typing, deleting, and retyping messages, worried that they would sound too needy.

9:50 PM:

you: so i see you still have a head so big that it could block out the sun

9:53 PM:

bakugo: fuck off you little shit

9:53 PM:

bakugo: no classes tmrw and i’m off work at 12

9:54 PM:

you: ok? do i look like your fucking secretary?

10:00 PM:

bakugo: no im just letting you know in case you’re planning on stalking me again :^(

10:01 PM

bakugo: obviously i wanna see you tomorrow dipshit

Warmth spread across your cheeks until it deepened into a dangerous heat, and the happy memories of you and Bakugo a year ago resurfaced as deja vu. Everything was scarily reminiscent of the way he asked you out the first time, back when your opinions about him were much more straightforward.

You rolled over to the other side of your bed and squealed, flustered by how to-the-point he was about his desire to reconcile things with you.

“Get it together, honestly,” you reprimanded yourself, jabbing a finger against your temple in an effort to drill the mantra into your head.

You responded back to accept Bakugo’s invitation, being mindful not to sound too excited, but you couldn’t deny that you slept better than usual that night.

The next day when you met up with Bakugo after his shift at the record shop ended, the two of you settled on getting coffee from one of the restaurants on campus. Well, you got a coffee, but Bakugo went for an iced tea instead because he insisted that coffee tasted like “dog shit”.

Regardless of your staggering difference of opinion in beverages, you guys hit it off again, laughing and joking around like there had never been a rift between you two in the first place. You were taken aback by how comfortable you still felt around him and how much he still seemed to adore you.

Two weeks after your reunion, you and Bakugo were already falling back into the routine of going on dates like you’d done before, snickering in the back of crowded movie theaters and demolishing each other in multiple rounds of mini golf. You even kept the photo booth picture that was printed for you at the aquarium in your wallet, just so you could peek at it every now and then.

Three weeks after your reunion, you concluded that you were pretty much together. Bakugo had never made it official, and neither had you, but you trusted the way you felt, and it seemed clear that he felt the same way.

Your friends however, weren’t as happy to hear the news of you and Bakugo seeing each other again.

Momo’s eyes widened as she leaned over the table and thrusted her mechanical pencil in your direction.

“Y/N, please tell me you’re joking.” She turned to Ochako who looked at you with a troubled expression. “Uraraka, please tell me she’s joking.”

Ochako pressed her lips into a thin line, shaking her head in utter disbelief. She said nothing. Rather she looked to you for an answer, wanting you to explain the situation before she scolded you for being so forgiving toward someone who didn’t deserve it.  

“He apologized okay? And it really seemed like he meant it, I’m not just saying that. You guys know I can’t hold grudges. I’m soft.”

Momo huffed.

“We started talking, and he told me that he tried to apologize but he never got the chance.”

Your friends were still quiet, waiting for the punchline, but once they realized that there was no hidden gag to the story, they leaned back in exhaustion, disappointed that you’d gotten yourself into another wearisome situation because of your thoughtlessness.

“And he said he missed me. After an entire year, he still misses me.”

“This wouldn’t have happened if we had found you someone else, you know. Someone nice. Better than Bakugo, so you don’t feel like you have to settle,” Momo countered.

“I didn’t need to date someone else,” you chided her. “I’m not one of those people that need to be in a relationship to feel fulfilled, plus I’ve been swamped with assignments.” You knew you were just trying to save face. You knew the real reason why you turned down all your prospective blind dates, and your friends knew it too. You couldn’t see yourself with anyone other than Bakugo, and you meant it when you said you didn’t need love to feel like you had purpose, but when it came to the blonde, it appeared that none of those principles applied.

“You’re lying,” Ochako sighed, tucking her hair behind her ear before clicking her pen and returning to her research paper.

“I’m not settling!” you declared, earning a few scattered glances from the other students in the library. You smiled at them ruefully, mouthing an apology, and ducked your head back into your college textbook.

You decided to drop the conversation, concluding that your friends just wouldn’t understand. They didn’t know your relationship with Bakugo like you did so how could they have understood?

Later that night however, you couldn’t help but chew over your friends’ reactions. There was clearly a reason why they felt the way they did, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to see their concern. You didn’t need to be chastised every time you did something they didn’t agree with, because you reminded yourself you were a grown ass woman. You treasured Momo and Ochako, but you were absolutely capable of looking out of yourself.

“Why do girls watch this shit?” Bakugo muttered from beside you, uninterested in the movie playing on the Macbook propped up in your lap. “It’s just dresses and sideburns, where the fuck are the fist fights?”

“It’s Pride and Prejudice, stupid. Not Deadpool,” you retorted, giggling slightly once Bakugo decided the skin of your neck was more interesting than Kiera Knightley. He released a throaty chuckle while attaching his lips to the base of your jaw and continued kissing until he stopped where your neck met your shoulders.

“Stop, I’m trying to watch the movie,” you complained tenderly with absolutely no intent to make Bakugo stop.

Bakugo sat up, grabbing your laptop off the sheets and closing it briskly. “Fuck the movie, I have a better idea,” he suggested. Your eyebrows furrowed, watching as he tossed the device onto the chair beside your closet.

“Hey, what are you doing, you dick?” you protested.

Within seconds Bakugo was on top of you with arms on either side of your head, effectively caging you in beneath him.

“Yeah?” he whispered provocatively, like he was making sure he had your permission first. He spoke under his breath, just loud enough for you to hear.

You didn’t know what sensation you registered first: the warmth now spreading quickly across your cheeks, down to your chest, or the pronounced throbbing between your thighs.

You nodded, softly responding with a “yeah” in return, and Bakugo didn’t waste a second before pressing his mouth to yours enthusiastically. You were surprised how quickly you re-familiarized yourself with the curve of his lips and the way they moved steadily against yours. Acting with fervor, he used his hand to grip your chin, forcing your mouth to open wider so he could slip his tongue past your teeth.

Bakugo used his free hand to grab your breast under your sweatshirt, and you relished in the feeling of his warm palm against your skin while he ran his fingertips against the silky fabric of your lace bra.

“Lace? You dirty bitch,” he teased, breaking contact. “There’s no way you could have known we were gonna fuck.”

You laughed, appreciating how seductive Bakugo looked. His sandy hair was tousled from your impatient hands in his locks, skin feverishly tinged with a dusty pink hue, and lips swollen from the force of his kiss.

“I didn’t know, but I was hoping we would,” you answered honestly. “I guess I got lucky.”

Bakugo snickered, clearly pleased with the response he received. His scarlet eyes flickered lustfully, and he hastily returned to working on your body. He pulled your sweatshirt up and off, tossing it over his shoulder before working swiftly against the clasp of your bra, which he skillfully managed to break with just one hand.

Must have had a lot of practice with that.

But your cynical thoughts were soon forgotten the moment Bakugo’s tongue curled around your nipple, enjoying the way his saliva made your skin glisten under the dim lamp light. He hummed loudly every time you jolted and whimpered, your back arching in tandem. He closed his lips around the delicate nub, sucking harshly while making no attempts to hide his sly smile. He was enjoying himself far too much.

He made sure he put his other hand to work, rolling your other nipple between his fingers, pinching roughly while tugging on it absentmindedly. Once he grew bored of your innocent mewls, he thirsted for something filthier.

Bakugo tantalizingly slid his hand down your stomach until his fingers curled around the waistband of your volleyball shorts. He stretched the Spandex material until when he released it, it snapped painfully against your skin, his cock throbbing at the exposure of your earthy groan.

He slipped off your shorts, and the sight before him was enough to elicit a long, drawn-out “Jesus fucking Christ”.

You didn’t realize you were so aroused that your underwear was soaking wet, your pussy now visible through the thin sheer fabric. Bakugo swallowed hard, palming himself to relieve some of the unbearable pressure he was feeling. He could feel his cock straining against his underwear, and he wanted to stick his dick inside you and fuck you until your eyes rolled back into your head, but the only thing he wanted more than that was to taste you.

“These are mine,” Bakugo insisted. He pulled your panties off, chuckling dryly at the wet stain on the fabric before tucking them into his pocket.

You tilted your head at him.

“What? I’m keeping them as a souvenir,” he replied.

But that’s not what you were concerned with. You were more humiliated than anything that this was your first time having sex with him in a year, and you’d been horny for him since you opened the door. You might as well have just written Bakugo’s Whore on your head in thick permanent marker, but you kept your suggestion to yourself knowing that Bakugo would have liked the idea way too much.

Bakugo reached down to pull his shirt over his head and threw it aside, unveiling his impressive physique. After you guys had broken up, he began finding himself in the gym more frequently, placating his regret and anger through physical exertion, and although he used weightlifting to cope, it left him with an incredible build.

Sweet lord, you thought, please fucking break me.

Bakugo wrapped his arms around your thighs, pulling you forcibly toward him. You propped yourself up on your elbows to get a good look as his face disappeared between your legs. You couldn’t see much past his hair, but you felt a long wet lick up your folds, and your arms immediately gave out, causing you to fall back onto the bed while your hips bucked upward.

You let out an obscene cry, but that only encouraged Bakugo more. He parted your lips with his tongue, licking another stripe up to your clit before sucking it into his mouth, all while peering up at you to see the way you writhed under his touch. You gripped the sheets, and your breathing grew increasingly labored as Bakugo swirled the tip of his tongue against the tender bud, slowly in one direction, and then the opposite. You continued to grind yourself against his mouth while your desire became insatiable. You felt like your hunger was completely justified, because you hadn’t been spoiled in a long fucking time.

You completely unraveled once you glanced down just in time to see Bakugo spit on your parted folds before using his fingers to coat your pussy in his saliva. His slick fingers rubbed your clit, taunting you for just a while longer, and then he dipped his fingers inside of you. He started with two fingers, slipping them in and out with ease until his spit mixed with your arousal created a vile lubricant.

With the way Bakugo’s lips were slightly parted and his eyebrows were knitted in the center, you could tell he was concentrating dangerously, observing how desperately you swallowed his fingers every time he pushed them in.

Your vision erupted into white heat when he bent down to take your clit back into his mouth while pumping in and out of you with an added finger. The symphony that filled the space of your room was absolutely foul. Your intense cries bounced off the walls, while Bakugo panted heavily at the messy sound of his fingers thrusting in and out of you. And neither of you cared if your neighbors could hear.

“Bakugo--,” you started, but your broken plea wasn’t nearly enough to get his attention.

“Bakugo,” you cried louder, your body beginning to shake with the onset of your orgasm.

“Are you gonna cum?” He asked, his voice slightly higher than you were used to, almost like he was whining.

You could only give a weak nod in response.

“Be a good little bitch and cum for me,” Bakugo coaxed, as you yielded to the intensity of your orgasm. He quickened his pace just to see you convulse as you reached your high, but then slowed down until he was ready to pull his fingers out of you.

The sight was enough to make Bakugo cum untouched. You were finger-fucked out, eyes shut as your chest heaved up and down while you tried to catch your breath. Your arousal was smeared on the inside of your thighs and your bedsheet was damp where you released.

Bakugo wanted to ask you if you were alright, but the aching pain in his pants took priority. He reached into his underwear, freeing his swollen cock from the confines of his boxers. He bit down on his bottom lip so hard he almost drew blood as he pumped himself gingerly, hissing at the feeling. His tip was raw and flushed, leaking precum in shameless amounts.

He hoisted your legs on either shoulder and positioned himself at your entrance, looking at you for confirmation, and you nodded feebly. He sunk his entire length into you, and you covered your mouth with your hand to stifle a shrill scream. Your walls were already sore, and the sting of Bakugo’s large cock inside of you was a painful bliss. Tears came quickly, and they rolled down your cheeks while Bakugo rocked his hips into you slowly. He was waiting for his aching to subside before speeding up his rhythm, and once it did he was taken over by an unappeasable greed.

“You’re so fucking tight,” he groaned, thrusting himself in and out of you. “If you keep squeezing me like that I’m gonna cum inside you and get you fucking pregnant.” Bakugo had one hand on your headboard, his grip so firm that his knuckles had turned white.

You sobbed underneath him, withstanding your own pain until it subdued into pleasure. You shifted your legs until they wrapped around Bakugo’s strong torso, unable to get enough of him.

Bakugo rammed into you, and your headboard hitting your wall furiously set the tempo until he fell into a staggered cadence.

“I’m gonna cum,” he choked out. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck--.” Your name was the last thing Bakugo could get out before he broke free of your hold, pulling himself out of you so he could release. He cummed on your stomach, generously shooting out hot spurts of white until he was soft and you were covered in his seed.

Bakugo leaned over and collapsed beside you, short of breath. He was drenched in sweat and his blonde hair stuck to his forehead with perspiration. He chuckled after a few silent minutes.

“What the fuck was that? Were you trying to get me to nut in you?” Bakugo asked, turning to face you.

You didn’t know what he was talking about until you remembered the way you wrapped him up in your legs while he was inside you.

You snorted, erupting into a fit of sheepish laughter. “Yeah.”

Bakugo raised an eyebrow, bewildered. “Crazy bitch.”

He pulled his sweatpants up and rolled out of your bed. “I’m not ready to be a dad yet,” he voiced, before shuffling lazily out of the room to find something he could clean you up with and smoke a cigarette on the fire escape.

The next morning you found yourself alone, Bakugo nowhere to be found despite you falling asleep with his arms around your waist. You raised a sleepy eyebrow at the empty space next to you that was still sunken from his weight. Okay good, so you didn’t hallucinate last night. You figured Bakugo had early duties to attend to, so you simply grumbled before turning over to get more sleep.

Following that day, every time Bakugo came over to your place, or you found yourself at his, the routine was simple: have breathtaking sex and then pass out.

You grew used to expecting it from him whenever the two of you spent any time alone, and the night before always consumed your thoughts the morning after. You’d squeeze your thighs together during your lecture hall while your professor yammered on about early psychology. The memory of Bakugo’s hand around your throat as he fucked you from behind prompted a surge of heat to your core.

Even when the two of you couldn’t see each other because neither of your schedules coincided, you found a way to make things work, whether it was over the phone, through text, or over Facetime.

Occasionally, you’d ring up Bakugo while he was closing up the shop to taunt him, touching yourself on the other line while he’d grow painfully hard and couldn’t relieve himself until he got home.

“You little fucking shit.” You loved the way his low growls sounded over the phone. “Let’s see how bold you are when I come over and turn your thighs into earmuffs.”

And occasionally, he’d send you videos of himself in bed while you were at the library late cramming for your exams the next morning, touching his cock with haste before cumming on his hands as he groaned your name loudly.

Not an ounce of passion was lost between you two, and if anything you’d only grown closer together from the time spent apart. You had your love back, and everything in your life was ideal.

Of course, that was all before the party.

The party at Sero’s house that you’d caught wind of once you joined Momo, Ochako, and your other friend Mina for lunch.

“You know I don’t like going to parties thrown by frats,” Ochako muttered, ripping off small bites of her chicken wrap.

“Why not? There’ll be plenty of guys there for you to talk to, your phone has been a little dry lately,” Mina responded, laughing silently.

Ochako squinted at her jest before playfully rolling her eyes herself. “That’s exactly why. You know what happened last time I went to a frat party. The hangover isn’t worth it.”

Mina exhaled heavily and turned to you with a hopeful look.

“Y/N, you’ll go with us right? Me and Momo?”

You squeezed your water bottle wearily. “I don’t know. I’m not a fan of frat parties either.” You didn’t know what answer to give her, she looked extremely optimistic, and you hated to rain on Mina’s Friday night plans, but you didn’t want to spend the rest of the evening crammed in a frat house with a crowd of strangers.

Mina stuck out her bottom lip and reached to grab your hand from across the table. “Please? Please? There’s no guarantee Momo won’t ditch me at the party for Todoroki.”

Momo murmured inaudibly beside her.

You sighed, however you relented, giving into the arrangements Mina had made for you, but you regretted your decision far too late.

You showed up to the gathering with Mina and Momo dressed modestly. Unlike your friends and many of the other girls there, you already had someone that you were seeing, and you wanted to look as reserved as you could so there was no confusion around whether or not you were off the market.

Bakugo was possessive, and he preferred to keep his possessions close. There was no telling what he would do or how he’d react if he learned of another man trying to make a move on you.

You took small sips out of your cup while you followed quietly behind Momo and Mina as they moved from person to person, greeting friends you were unfamiliar with. You feigned a cheery smile when you were introduced to them, but overall you were bored with the party scene. You weren’t really a frat party girl.

You yelled over to Momo that you needed another drink and shook your head when she asked you if you needed her to come with you. She looked far too engrossed in her conversation with Todoroki, and you didn’t want to just whisk her away while they were talking. In fact, you were the chairman of the Anti-Cockblock Committee.

You sauntered into the kitchen, sliding in next to the counter once the guests who were there first left. You started grabbing bottles to inspect the labels because to be honest, you weren’t sure what half of these brands were. As a broke college student, you bought your own drinks, which were mainly $20 cases of hard lemonade and cheap raspberry Smirnoff vodka from the liquor store. Clearly Sero had selective taste in high quality shit.

You poured yourself a small sip of Patron, tasting the clear liquid, and tried not to gag at the oaky taste as it burned your throat going down.

You felt someone ease in beside you. “Hey, bartender.”

You glanced at the guest next to you, their familiar visage coming into view. You recognized his distinctive green head of hair and innocent freckles peppered across his cheeks, it was the same face you saw every day in your sociology class.

What was his name? Ku--something. Zu…?

You remembered your professor referred to him by his nickname, Deku, and once you said his name as convincingly as you could, you gathered by his boyish grin that you were right.

“I’m surprised you remembered,” he laughed, and adjusted his circle-rimmed glasses while his emerald eyes swelled into crescents.

“I didn’t really take you for a partier,” you observed. Deku was incredibly smart from what you’d seen in class. He knew the answers before your professor could even finish their questions, and when you’d ask him if he could repeat what the teacher said for your notes, he explained the material even better than the person who was an expert in the subject for a living.

“I’m not,” he replied. “But you know, the college experience and all that.”

You scoffed and nodded, knowingly. “Melt your brain studying for 25 hours a day, 8 days a week, and then get shitfaced whenever you can. Yeah, that’s definitely the college experience,” you joked, pouring yourself a couple shots of vodka and mixed it with orange soda.

“I was meaning to ask you,” Deku started. “I mean--Yeah--I was meaning to ask you for your number in class earlier this week.”

You stirred your drink with a finger before stealing a taste. “Of course,” you agreed happily.

Deku’s face deepened into a rosy bloom once he took out his phone, typing in your contact while you recited the numbers.

“I’m not asking for a weird reason or anything like that. Just so we can help each other out with homework and stuff.”

You nodded, already acknowledging that Deku was a sweet kid, at least as far as you knew. You didn’t expect him to have any promiscuous intentions.

“Yeah, but I don’t think I’ll be as much help to you as you’ll be to me,” you teased, and Deku chuckled nervously still trying to shake the blush off his cheeks. “I’m free on Monday, I can meet up with you after class if you want.”

Deku buried his face into his cup, his shallow breathing causing his glasses to fog up. “Yeah, that sounds great,” he mumbled bashfully.

“Text me the deets,” you grinned, before wandering off back to your friends.

On the way back to the stairwell where Momo and Mina were still standing, your attention was drawn by a large crowd around the living room that erupted into jovial squeals and cheers every few seconds. You gravitated toward the mass of guests, standing on your toes to get a better look, but when that didn’t work you gently made your way through the throng of people, issuing soft “sorry, excuse me’s” and “thank you’s” to the people that didn’t mind letting you slip past them.

You had no knowledge that he was going to be here. He never told you what his plans for the night were, but this was the last place you were expecting Bakugo to be.

Here.

Playing a game of “Kiss and Blow” on a crowded couch with someone who wasn’t you. When it reached his turn, you could see his shallow inhale and how he put in no effort to keep the card against his mouth. It fell between the cushions, and the crowd erupted into another rally.

Bakugo grinned artfully and hooked his arm around the eager brunette before smothering her giggles with a deep tongue-filled kiss.

At first, the cogs in your brain couldn’t turn fast enough to register what was happening, and your thought process stuttered for a moment while your eyes took in more than you expected. Your body remained immobile, giving your thoughts a few seconds to catch up. Maybe for those few seconds, your anguish was suspended, and your shock was simply a cushion until you fell apart.

You couldn’t make your way out of the party fast enough, and you didn’t even think to let Momo and Mina know that you were leaving. Everything around you sounded warbled, like you were underwater, as your leaden legs carried you out, past the front lawn, and across the street until you were far away that you could no longer hear the music of the party. It was then that you pulled out your phone to text Mina claiming that you didn’t feel well and called an Uber to take you home.

The following morning you ignored all of Bakugo’s texts. He sent one at 10 AM, asking you if you were down to get breakfast, and then another at noon suggesting lunch since you didn’t respond to his text about breakfast. He texted you again, and again, and again, and you continued to disregard him.

You didn’t cry this time around. No. You were filled with a foreign anger. It was strange and new, and it burned nothing like the rage you’d felt in all your years of living. You didn’t know whether you were angry at him for putting you through this again or if you were angry at yourself for really believing that he’d changed. You really wanted to confront Bakugo in person, but you were afraid of your unpredictability. You didn’t know what you would do if you saw him--roundhouse kick him in the throat most likely.

Bakugo’s relentless attempts to get in contact with you didn’t let up, even late into the night. He sent another text threatening to show up at your apartment if you didn’t answer him, and then he called yet again.

Angrily, you reached out to answer your phone, but once you held it to your ear all the fury you’d been bearing throughout the day emerged.

“Can you fuck off?” You hissed.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Bakugo responded, taken off guard by your greeting. “What the fuck?”

“If you were so hellbent on seeing me today, you should have thought about that before you decided to be a hypocritical little bastard! Again!” You shook with anger, unable to effectively piece together all the profane names you wanted to call him.

Bakugo was still while you put him on blast.

“Do you not have anything to say to me, you fuckwit?”

“No, because I don’t even know why you’re going full bitch right now!” Bakugo defended himself. You sat back at his reply, confused at why he was guarded. You knew that when Bakugo was aware he was in the wrong he always remained quiet and pensive.

“Last night?” you clarified. “Does last night not ring a bell to you?”

He let out a small grunt of recollection. “I was at a party last night, what are you talking about?”

“No shit, Bakugo! I saw you swallowing another girl whole!”

The other line erupted into laughter, and a large knot settled in your throat.

“Am I not allowed to kiss other girls now?” he asked.

Had he been hit by a semi-truck? Did he need a swift lobotomy?

“Why would you kiss another girl if you have a girlfriend?”

Bakugo muttered a quiet “what”, and then the lightbulb clicked.

“Holy shit, Y/N, did you think we were back together?”

Huh?

“When did we ever say that we were together?” he questioned lightly, finding your misunderstanding comical.

But--

“I thought we were just fucking around, you know? I never mentioned getting back together, and you didn’t either, so I just assumed we were just fucking.”

You didn’t say a word. As angry as you wanted to be and as angry as you already were, he was right. You had only assumed that you two were back together, but neither of you agreed on it explicitly.

“Our dates...” you countered listlessly.

“Two people hanging out together isn’t always a date.” Bakugo shifted on the other end and then grunted again to occupy the tense silence. “Shitting me, I didn’t know that’s what you were thinking.”

Realization of how foolish you made yourself look set in, and you hoped the awkwardness that hung in the air was fleeting. You swallow heavily, unable to digest defeat.

“Okay,” you murmured, before hanging up and flinging your phone aside.

You and Bakugo didn’t speak for the rest of the night into next morning, and by midday Monday when your study session with Deku rolled around, you were more than reluctant to go. You knew the frustration of someone cancelling last minute, but you were unsure whether you could bring a positive spirit to your meetup, and the last thing you wanted to do was put kind-hearted Deku through your bad mood.

As the time drew closer, you were considering texting him to rain check, letting him know you were feeling under the weather, when he sent you a picture at the coffee shop. Deku had ordered you lunch, mentioning that you must’ve been hungry after classes all day. He explained that he didn’t know what you liked so he just bought for you what he usually got for himself.

After that, you couldn’t have possibly turned him down, so you showed up anyway. Before you knew it, the clock already approached 9 PM, and the coffee shop was about to close for the night. Time had flown by while you were getting lost in upbeat conversation with Deku, and the two of you laughed and joked around more than you’d done your assignment, but you didn’t mind since it gave you another excuse to meet up with him. You didn’t expect him to be as naturally humorous as he was, nor did you guess you’d have as much in common with him as you did, but you’d forgotten about your own heartache during the time you spent in his company. Not to mention, he was very easy on the eyes, but that was just an additional plus.

However, when you finally returned home to your empty apartment that night, all your feelings came flooding back.

“Right,” you muttered to yourself, setting your backpack down by the door, and throwing your keys onto the kitchen counter. “Back to square one.”

Normally, you’d invite Bakugo over, but you had no desire to be anywhere within a three mile radius of him at the moment, so you quickly got ready for bed, figuring that the more time you spent asleep meant less time that you’d have to dwell over the all-too-familiar pain in your chest.

You continued to spend more and more time with Deku even though most of your plans were organized around schoolwork, even if it was studying for a test or just practicing terminology flashcards. Eventually, you’d gotten close enough that you didn’t mind inviting him over since your apartment was much quieter than the dorm he shared with his roommate, Kaminari.

You were both sat on your couch, and you took turns quizzing each other on general knowledge sociology questions. You flipped through the flashcards, Deku answering every question with impressive ease, until you had grown tired.

“Deku, this isn’t fun. You know every term,” you sighed, shuffling through the stack.

“Studying isn’t supposed to be fun, that’s why it’s called studying and not having fun,” he joked lamely, extending his hands to take his flashcards back.

You giggled silently at his flat humor and leaned back against the armrest to put your knees up. “Okay, well what do you like to do when you’re not studying?”

Deku slipped his flashcards into the pocket of his backpack. “Between classes, studying, and wrestling, I don’t really have much time for anything else.”

You gaped. “You wrestle? No fucking way.”

Deku raised an eyebrow at you, amused and unsure of the reason for your stupefaction. “Why do you think I’m a loser or something?”

“I don’t think you’re a loser,” you explained. “I just wouldn’t have guessed.” You took note of his lean stature. He did look like he worked out, but you never considered his pastime was something as brutish as wrestling. You figured his interests would explain the scars that decorated both of his hands.

“Okay then,” you began, hopping up and throwing the blanket you were wrapped in on the couch. “Teach me something.”

Deku stared at you, uncertain whether you were serious. “I don’t wanna hurt you,” he said, timidly.

“Oh man up, you baby,” you joked while wrapping your hands around his wrists, urging him to stand up. “Who’s to say I won’t hurt you?”

Deku chuckled nervously before following you over to the open space between your living room and kitchen. He stood for a second, thinking of the easiest moves to show you, and then he nodded, like he had fully decided.

“Okay, come here.”

You did as you were told, letting Deku guide you into the correct position. You cleared your throat, unnerved by the way his chest pressed up against your back, and his strong hands looped around your arms to lock them behind your head.

“This is a full nelson,” he instructed. “It’s a submission hold. It’s not allowed in our matches, but feel free to use it if you ever find some creep following you home.” You could feel his chest rumble with laughter between your shoulder blades.  

You nodded, feeling flustered. “Mhm.”

The next demonstration had the two of you on the floor with your arm twisted at an uncomfortable angle while Deku’s arm was situated over your rib cage. You could feel his staggered breathing across the shell of your ear, and you looked over your shoulder expectantly, waiting for him to explain the move.

Deku must have realized how close your faces were to each other because he absolutely lost his cool. He began stammering, unable to get his words out. “And this one is called the--um...sorry it’s called the--,” he breathed. “I’m sorry, I’m--I just wanna kiss you so bad right now.” His body tensed with his confession, but you were the one who made the first move.

Once Deku’s hold loosened, you leaned into him, allowing your lips to collide with his. Your mouths moved against each other fervently, and the two of you rolled over until you were on top of him with your legs on either side of his waist. Ever since a few nights before you’d blown up on Bakugo, you hadn’t been touched. Not even by yourself. You tried, but your fingers came nothing close to competing with his. You were so incredibly needy that you had to forcefully stop yourself from gyrating your hips on Deku’s crotch. He was already red in the face, and you were afraid he might collapse if you worked your ass against the growing bulge in his jeans.

You broke your kiss to take Deku’s hands, and you rested them on your chest. With Bakugo, he would have immediately taken control, driving you into ecstasy, but with Deku it was different. It was as if he had never touched a pair of breasts before. His breathing grew even more shallow as his body became rigid.

You tilted your head, slightly irritated from the lack of action, but you were more concerned about Deku’s wellbeing.

“Are you okay?” you asked, tongue in cheek.

Deku nodded anxiously. “Yup, yup, yup, I’m great. I’m good.”

But something was off, and you knew you weren’t enjoying yourself like you typically would even with days of pent up libido. You closed your eyes tiredly and released an exasperated sigh, slowly pulling yourself off of him. “I’m sorry, I can’t do this right now--we shouldn’t--.”

Deku opened his mouth to contest, but you cut him off.

“It’s getting late, you should go. I’ll see you around.” You buried your face in your hands, embarrassed at your desperation. “I’m so sorry,” you apologized again.

Deku adjusted his glasses and murmured a small “It’s fine, Y/N.” He helped you up after he pulled himself off of the floor and gathered his belongings before heading out quickly, eager to flee the tension.

Fuck, you thought. How did things get so complicated? Deku was a sweet kid, genuinely pure at heart, and you knew he wanted you from the way his emerald eyes were glued to your frame, even while you were fully-clothed. Yet he wasn’t Bakugo. He didn’t know how to work you like Bakugo did, and you felt shamefaced for thinking about your ex-boyfriend again. You mulled it over and began to question why you were stopping yourself from having your cake and eating it too.

Bakugo didn’t intend on getting back together with you, but he enjoyed the phenomenal sex, and so did you. You held so much contempt for him now, but there was no reason why you couldn’t just agree to the terms of his compact.

Exes with benefits, only now with a few additions of your own.

No dates, no flirty chatter outside of your arrangements, nothing that could potentially steer you the wrong way towards forgiving him yet again, because like you told your friends: you were a pushover, and Bakugo was a sweet talker. That was a combination destined for hell.

Your revelation was exactly how you ended up sleeping with Bakugo again. Your sex life was practically a Dr. Seuss book. The two of you would have sex in his car, in the bathroom at a bar, and you’d have sex here, there, and pretty much anywhere.

When you first called him up, he answered almost immediately, somewhat excited to see your contact after going without speaking to each other for nearly a week. After you acceded, he snorted, wondering if you were conspiring.

“Are you fucking scheming something? Cooking up some devious shit to get me alone so you can kill me? Suffocate me while I’m sleeping? You’re goddamn insane.”

You rolled your eyes aggravated. “No. Are you down, or do you wanna pussy out now?”

Bakugo agreed, and both of you managed to keep things fairly cordial. Well, as cordial as they could possibly be, given your shared history. You couldn’t care less about the differences and arguments you had when you guys were in bed. If anything, you preferred it when Bakugo was angry at you, pissed at something you had said or just releasing pent up stress that built up over the week. That only made the sex filthier.

Although Bakugo wasn’t yours, and you weren’t his, that didn’t mean he didn’t hold some affection for you, and perhaps still even vice versa. He was possessive over you regardless, even if it meant coming dangerously close to breaching the contract. Especially when he caught you one night with Deku at an on-campus movie screening in the park.

After the fiasco at your apartment with you and Deku, you apologized sincerely to him a couple of days later in class. Deku took no hard feelings to your blunder, and he nodded at the mild rejection when you clarified that things would be best if the two of you stayed friends. He reassured you that he was fine, and he was far too occupied for a relationship of any sort anyway.

But Bakugo wasn’t aware that you two had already tested the waters and decided it was sink rather than swim.

When he spotted you alone sitting on a blanket, he strolled over, wearing a sardonic grin. He struck up a superficial conversation that quickly dissipated once Deku returned with the snacks you two planned on sharing.

Your grin when Deku arrived didn’t compare to the indifferent smile you gave Bakugo when he approached you, and he noticed. His eyes narrowed at your green-haired friend as burning rage coursed through his veins.

“Deku, this is Bakugo,” you said, uninterested in Bakugo’s presence while you took the bag of sour candy Deku offered to you.

Deku smiled at Bakugo, extending his hand to exchange a handshake, but Bakugo simply slapped his hand away dismissively.

“Whatever,” Bakugo jeered, his jaw rooted, before he diverted his attention back to you. “See you later, dumbass.”

He left without a fight, but you knew he wouldn’t put the memory past him, and the following night, all of Bakugo’s anger came bubbling out. The way his brain operated was fascinating, especially since he knew that you two had no romantic commitments to each other, that’s what you agreed on, but finally seeing you over him with someone who he assumed was your new interest turned him crazed.

Bakugo held a painful fistful of your hair, pushing your face into the mattress while he wrecked you. He forced himself into you from behind, muffling your screams with the pillow while he rammed into you relentlessly. Every thrust was vicious, exhibiting the full height of his temper.

“You’re mine, do you understand that? You’re mine to touch, mine to ruin. If anyone else puts their hands on you, I swear I’ll beat them within an inch of their life.”

Bakugo hated to admit it, especially since he knew admitting it turned him into the hypocritical dick of the year, but he enjoyed having you chase after him like a lovelorn puppy. You clung to his side, and you were there at his beck and call. He’d always hated being emotionally tied down, hence his apprehension toward serious relationships, but the way you took advantage of the freedom to see other men made him livid.

“Maybe if I really did put a baby in you other people wouldn’t be such a fucking pain. What do you think?”

Bakugo’s pace didn’t let up as his grip on your hair tightened, and he pulled you upright until your head rested back on his shoulder.

“Answer me,” he demanded, dangerously.

All you could muster were broken sobs. You had never seen Bakugo like this, and you were willing to avow that after discounting your fear and pain, it was hot, and you were slightly intrigued.

Bakugo secured his hand around your neck, allowing his fingers to dig into the side of your throat, and you could feel his cock throbbing inside you which let you know he was close, but he wasn’t making any efforts to slow down any time soon.

“The thought of you with him makes me want to fucking vomit. You know he’ll never be able to make you feel like I do,” he snarled against your ear. “No one will.”

You choked out a meager “I know” while your vision grew blurrier from the lack of oxygen to your head.

You came first and then Bakugo came shortly after, claiming you by pumping you full with his hot seed until you collapsed on the bed from overexhaustion.

You realized then, through the cloudiness of your thoughts came a single conviction: that your relationship with Bakugo was an endless cycle. You’d taken every romantic risk for Bakugo while he risked nothing. That’s how you remained foolish for so long, so naive. You refused to learn over and over again, and you sacrificed yourself in the process. 

Once Bakugo threw you modest praise and disappeared into the bathroom, you gave way to the enormity of your despair. Your tears were silent and persistent until your breathing turned ragged while humiliation and resentment burned just beneath your skin.

You were smitten with someone who was bad at romance. Your love was a fairytale, but not everyone believed in fairytales, meaning that was both the birth and death of your chronicle. Fairytales were only real if you believed they were.

Bakugo continued to give you reasons to leave and seek out the love you deserved, but you took momentary bliss as your excuse for staying, like a lovesick fool or like an addict dying from overdose. You wish he would at least give you something to hold onto, like false hope or a pretty lie, but you knew that’s all you’d ever be able to do: wish that things were different so you two could have grown into something beautiful.

[mossiestpiglet]

I’m not really used to going through the same process as one of the characters while watching a show which is likely one of the reasons why this show has a strangle hold on me, but I feel Ed so goddamn hard in ep7. That crushing disappointment when you realize that the thing you thought would finally keep the Boredom at bay forever isn’t going to? Being reminded once again, again and again, that the boredom is inside of you? That you’ll never be able to get away from it? There’s a reason the last episode is titled Wherever You Go, There You Are, and I fucking hate it, because my stupid brain is watching this show and knowing that’s the point and still saying shit like “if you became an actor you’d never be bored” “take up screenwriting and your life will be interesting forever”. And watching Ed have to realize he can’t run away from this is so uncomfortable because I have to deal with the fact I can’t run away from this too, I have to deal with it every day and because of whatever cycles of the universe control my episodes, I have to deal with it especially hard right now.

Existential Boredom is not a common symptom of mental illness to see portrayed in media, I don’t really know why, but Ed is the first character I’ve seen struggle with it so seriously. Even when something like apathy is portrayed it’s usually toned down or confused a bit with sadness or rushed over, shown as someone just going through the motions instead of showing what it actually feels like to be in the depths of the Boredom. So deep in it that everything becomes justifiable as a means to escape it, a bleakness with teeth that you’ll feed anything to so that it doesn’t sink those teeth into you. And Ed’s character makes so much more sense with that as his motivation. Of course he wants to meet this Gentleman Pirate, it’ll be a nice diversion. Keep him entertained for a few hours or days. Of course he wants to stay with Stede and learn to be fancy, the man is fucking crazy, that’s could be endless entertainment! Of course he lets Izzy go, Izzy used to be entertaining, but the boredom would come back when Izzy was around so clearly Izzy wasn’t the solution, and so far Stede has been keeping the boredom at bay, so if Izzy is a threat to Stede, then Izzy has to go. The boredom starts to creep back in, so he starts to snap at Stede and get irritable, but Stede understands Ed’s need for interest to an extent because Stede has it to a lesser extent too. So even though the boredom is there, at the edges, Stede can keep it from totally sinking it’s teeth in. But then Jack shows up and jack is SO entertaining and pushes the boredom away completely for a day at least and it feels so good that Ed can’t help but be drawn in by it, be swayed by it, and so he does things he wouldn’t otherwise if the boredom wasn’t there, if Jack wasn’t the one fighting the boredom away for him, and that ends up driving him away from Stede. Choosing the Act of Grace at least something new, and he’s back with Stede at least who was so good at being diverting and entertaining and understanding his need for interest. And when he suggests escape, it’s not back to their past lives, but to something new again, always a new adventure, forever new and interesting.

[absolute-flaming-trash-archive]

Hurt Part 3 - Damaged Goods

This is officially turning into a long fic series. Thank you a million times to @my-child-gaara for beta reading this.

Pairing: Illumi x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2′811

Warnings: Implied abuse/toxic relationship, Yandere behaviour, Manipulation, Graphic description of injury, Mentions of assault/noncon.

Part One, Part Two

-----

The longer the days went on, the more they began to blur together. That tended to happen when there was a lot of repetition. A constant repeat of routine that you would follow almost mindlessly.

To be fair, the daily regime was only a small part of what made the days fade into one another.

What was mostly the cause of it was the dissociation you were beginning to fall into to cope with the ever increasing visits from Hisoka.

You genuinely didn’t know how to act around the man anymore. What had started off as a relationship of supposed mutual respect had fallen apart over the course of a single evening, which he would remind you of and repeat frequently.

It wouldn’t happen every time he came to you. Sometimes it would be as it used to, where you would patch him up, albeit now with a heavy tension in the air, and he would leave. Other times it would be like that night all over again. You kept fighting him, of course, still unwilling to submit to a man who made it his goal to violently remind you that, in his mind, you belonged to him.

It was seemingly random. The only consistent indication of his possessive behaviour was that when you mentioned a friend or a coworker that you were getting close to, they would mysteriously disappear within several days.

It made you feel alone. Isolated.

Yet you still didn’t hate him… did you?

You’d think you would after all of that time. After what he had done. Everyone had their breaking point.

You honestly didn’t know if you had reached it, but were too numb to notice, or if you were truly that forgiving.

It was an endless cycle you would think about every night as you stared up at the ceiling, body still aching from how Hisoka had treated you.

Every cycle was eventually broken, though.

The clattering of books followed by the sound of something smashing broke you from your thoughts, making you instantly freeze.

Someone was in your house, and it wasn’t who you thought it was.

You had only one weapon in your room, a bat you saved for emergencies .

It would never do against someone like Hisoka, but for a burglar? You’d take your chances.

You threw the covers off of you, grabbing the bat and holding it above your head, approaching the source of the noise with caution; your breathing coming in quiet, shaky breaths the closer you got to your living room. 

When you rounded the corner, it was like time froze.

Like you thought, it wasn’t Hisoka.

Instead a man with the darkest eyes you had ever seen stood amongst the remnants of your fallen bookshelf, the shade of his clothes contrasting greatly against the paleness of his skin.

“Hey,” he greeted, his voice shockingly casual - as if he hadn’t broken into your home and ruined your bookcase. You adjusted your grip on the bat, narrowing your eyes at the man before you.

“What do you want?”

Your eyes flickered over the dress-like blue outfit he wore. It was in tatters, blood and dirt deeply staining the fabric. The gloves covering his arms were shredded, hanging over his arms like streamers.

“I’m in need of your services, it would seem.” Your eyes snapped back up to his lightning fast, knuckles white from your grip on the bat. The man sighed heavily at your reaction.

“Hisoka did say you were skittish, there’s no reason to be alarmed.”

The bark of dry laughter that left you at his comment surprised you both. “If you’re with Hisoka, that gives you less reason to be here, and if you touch me I’ll more than alarm you.”

“On the contrary, I believe it gives me all the reason.”

Awkward tension hung heavy in the air as the two of you stared at each other, both unwilling to move from your positions. His orb-like eyes shifted over to the now trivial seeming weapon in your hands.

Like hell you’d go down without it though.

“Put down the bat.”

“Will you leave?”

“No, I still need your services.”

“Then I’m not putting down the bat.”

The slightest twitch of his eye was the only indicator of the annoyance that had begun to creep through his system.

“If I offered you my name, would that calm you enough to treat me?”

You paused, mulling the thought over with caution. It would certainly make things a little smoother, in any case.

“I still don’t trust you, but perhaps.”

“Excellent, I’m Illumi Zoldyck.” The robotic cheeriness to his voice was anything but soothing as you watched him seat himself on your couch. “I’d like you to get whatever supplies you have on hand, as I believe you’ll need them all.”

His words went over your head as you processed the name given to you.

Zoldyck. There was an assassin in your house.

“Are you going to kill me?” The words slipping out before you could stop them, making Illumi tilt his head, his eyelids drooping slightly in boredom.

“If I were to kill you, you would be long dead already.”

His tone did nothing to soothe your nerves, despite the implication that the words were meant to be reassuring.

Another few beats of silence passed as you continued to examine each other. It seemed that you were at an impasse, and you had a feeling that between the two of you the assassin was the least likely to back down from his stance.

“Are you going to get your kit?”

You lowered the bat begrudgingly, the discomfort and confliction written heavily across your face.

Just this once, you decided, turning on your heel and walking away briskly.

You hurried into the kitchen, grabbing what you needed with shaking hands, taking deep breaths in order to calm yourself as much as you could. The deja vu you were feeling was horrible, and you’d be damned if you let history repeat itself, but you had been taught harshly and repeatedly that you were not as strong as you had initially thought yourself to be.

That certainly didn’t mean you were willing to give up just yet though.

You returned to Illumi with a bowl of warm water and your kit, kneeling to assess the damage. There were lacerations all up and down his right arm, shards of glass deeply embedded into the cuts along with bits of debris. The bruising that you could see wasn’t horrendous, but it wasn’t good either. You shoved your state of unease into the back of your mind as you tried to focus primarily on the injuries presented.

“What happened?”

“My initial attack missed and my target became aware of my presence. Extremely annoying, really, as my aim was not the issue and it was due to him tripping over an uneven surface. We fought.”

Illumi watched with unblinking eyes as you experimentally touched around his multitude of cuts before you nodded to yourself, standing up and walking back into your kitchen.

“I’m going to remove the glass from your arms before I assess the rest of you.” You returned with a small empty bowl and a chair in hand.

The deja vu was becoming more intense by the minute.

“I do have to ask though, what made you come to me?” - you sat down, grabbing the cloth from the bowl and gesturing for Illumi to give you his arm - “I’d imagine your family has their own collection of doctors due to your profession.”

“We do, however now that I now know about you, you were a closer and more convenient option.”

“Deep breath, this is going to sting.”

Your warning was acknowledged with a slight nod, and you pressed the cloth to his skin as gently as you could. Illumi made no motion to pull away as you carefully cleaned the area as best as you could.

“To be quite honest, I’m a little surprised that Hisoka mentioned me to you.” you murmured, lightly dragging the cloth over the wounds, removing as much of the debris as you could and tossing it to the side once you were finished. A few beats of silence passed while you pulled out a pair of tweezers and began sanitizing them with rubbing alcohol.

“Not hard to believe, Hisoka feels the need to overshare the details of his missions with me for some odd reason.” His voice unwavering even as you had begun to pull the shards of glass from his skin. “Each of them would end with the common theme of him coming to you for assessment of his injuries.”

You huffed, the sound of the glass hitting the aluminum bowl filling the gaps of the conversation. “I'm not surprised at that, just the fact that he gave you permission to see me. At least that's what I meant before.”

“He did not, I found you on my own.”

It felt like all the air in the room had been sucked out at his words, your wide eyes slowly making their way up to his face as adrenaline shot through your veins, mouth instantly going dry.

“What did you say?” 

“At any attempt on my part to find out where you lived, should I need to acquire your services, he would become very proprietorial and would not disclose any further information. Quite inconvenient, we’ve always had a give and take relationship, but apparently he does not wish to share you with me.”

You couldn’t help but flinch at his particular choice of words.

“He uhm” -you swallowed thickly, clearing your throat as you gathered your words- “he doesn’t know you’re here?”

“No.”

That knowledge was simultaneously relieving and terrifying. Relieving in the sense that Hisoka wasn’t sending the people who he worked with to you to patch up, or...sharing you with others.

It was terrifying because you had no idea how he would react if he caught you with Illumi in your home when he clearly didn’t want him there.

And he could come through your door at any moment.

You ran your eyes over his arms, weighing your options quietly while trying to steady your breathing. You had nearly removed all the glass, after that you just needed to put on an antibacterial ointment and wrap the wounds in gauze and derma wrap, and he would be set.

Anything that you missed would have to be treated at his home, you couldn’t risk it here.

“This knowledge appears to be disconcerting, is Hisoka an exclusive client?”

An airy, humourless chuckle passed your lips. If only he knew.

“I’m going to do what I can for your arms, however the rest I’m going to have to leave to you since I’m not well equipped for anything worse than this. Hisoka used up the majority of my heavy duty medical gear some time ago, and I haven’t had the time or the funds to go get more.”

Illumi blinked owlishly at you as you continued to work, your movements noticeably faster as you treated him.

Odd, but your reasoning was sound enough.

The minutes flew by as you removed the remaining glass, antibiotic cream covered gauze placed over each wound as you gingerly wrapped the derma wrap around his arms.

“Okay, I think you should be good now.” You breathed, shoulders relaxing as he stood, examining your handiwork blankly while you hurriedly began to pack your supplies up.

“I don’t think you have much to worry about otherwise, and once again I’m sorry for not being able to do-”

Your eyes widened as he began to peel off his clothing, your arms automatically rising in defense; cowering behind the little protection they provided.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, don’t hurt me please!”

The automatic words were barely understandable, leaving you in a fast, jumbled mess. Illumi stared at you in confusion, his tattered shirt still in his hands.

“Is this not your form of payment?”

Your shoulders relaxed slightly as you peeked out, your own confusion knitting across your brow at his statement, “Payment?”

“Yes,” Illumi confirmed, retaking his seat on your couch, “whenever Hisoka comes to you, you treat him, and once you are finished you two engage in sexual activities, from what I have gathered from what has been retold to me.” - the casualness of his tone made you flinch - “So I believed that was your form of payment for your services.”

The way he said it was so… detached. Like what he was saying was simply a matter of business being conducted, and nothing more.

To be frank, it horrified you.

“No,” you responded, fully lowering your arms to your side, shaking your head at his claim. “No, Hisoka and I have no such arrangement. He doesn’t pay me anything.”

“Eh?” Illumi tilted his head, bits of his dark locks falling in front of his face. “Well this will not do at all, how much do you normally charge for your services?”

You didn’t know what it was about that sentence that made you chuckle, but it bloomed into a full bodied laugh; tears springing to your eyes as you clutched your sides. Illumi continued to stare at you through your little fits until your laughter had died down, now only coming in short bursts of giggles.

“Mr. Zoldyck,” -you wiped a stray tear from your eye, giving him a small broken smile- “I don’t charge anything. I never have. I’m not a medically trained professional, my skills are only the result of a few first aid courses I took for my own safety and for previous jobs.”

“Illumi is fine.” He responded, pulling out his phone, beginning to type with one hand, “I shall send you compensation for the inconvenience I have caused you as well as of the damage to your home. What is your number?”

“It’s just a fallen bookshelf, Illumi, it’s fine-”

“I believe 30 million jenny is reasonable, is that sufficient?”

Your jaw hit the floor as you gaped at him.

You were stunned to say the least.

You stuttered out the number to your cell phone, still in a state of shock, “I… I don’t know what to say, sir, thank you.”

“Your gratitude is unnecessary, and once again it’s Illumi,” -he said simply, pocketing the phone in his pants- “you should receive the transfer shortly.”

All you could do was nod as you processed all of what just happened, the rustling of Illumi’s clothing as he redressed himself becoming background noise.

You ran a hand down your face, pausing over your mouth as you tried to figure out just exactly what to do next.

30 million. That was a lot of money, more than what you could properly explain away without finding some kind of excuse. The lottery was always a good go-to, but if you claimed that and word got out, then you’d have “friends” and “family” coming out of the woodwork, and you didn’t need that kind of hassle added to your already complicated life.

You could say that it was inheritance, after all you did have a fairly large extended family…

Only problem with that route was that Hisoka more than likely kept tabs on everyone connected to you.

Panic shot through your system at the reminder of the man, frantic eyes snapping back to reality and searching the living room for Illumi.

He was gone. Shit.

“Illumi?!” you nearly tripped over your own feet as you ran out of the living room, looking up and down the halls of your house desperately before landing on him, his hand hovering over the doorknob to your front door. You stopped a few feet short of him, heart still pounding in your ears from your initial anxiety.

“He can’t know you were here. Hisoka, I mean.” You fidgeted with your hands, unsure how to properly word the thoughts in your head. “If… if you ever need to see me again, you need to warn me you’re coming. No matter how serious your injuries are.”

You laughed nervously, offering the assassin a small hopeful smile.

Illumi blinked, studying you for a moment. Why you would be so worried about his associate was completely unknown to him. Well not entirely true, it was obvious he had mistreated you in some way, but that was no concern of his. Your request of him informing you as to when he would be coming could eventually prove inconvenient, however the subtle invitation that you were willing to treat him in the future would more than make up for it. If necessary, he could use the leverage of Hisoka’s ignorance against you if that were to change.

He hummed lightly, satisfied with his own reasoning as his lips twitching up slightly in a microscopic smile, meeting your own misguided one. 

“Of course.”

-----

Please tell me if you find Illumi ooc, as well as your thoughts. Yes there will be more parts in the future. 💛

Tag List: @prettycutebunny, @my-child-gaara, @yep-seeyalaterbranflakes, @shorkbrian, @mynameseri, @trash-writings, @biby-24k, @ao-writes-filth

[ibelongtowrath]

Amor Librorum - Obey Me! Satan x Reader

Satan's in heat, and you just had to wear that short little skirt, didn't you? A/N: This was a request for a Satan in heat story! My first work since my hiatus, and I hope I did it justice. I kinda went hard with Dom Satan, so please enjoy. Pairing: Satan x Fem!Reader Word Count: ~6.6k Tags/Warnings: 18+ NSFW, fisting, oral sex, degradation, breeding, rough sex, double penetration, tail sex, dirty talk, dominance, choking. NSFW under the cut!

The peaceful quiet of the library is disturbed by a loud groan of frustration, not at all surprised to find the sound originating from yourself. Your eyes open, unable to focus as you stare aimlessly at the pile of papers before you. Haphazardly-written notes cover the pages of your notebooks, some even squished into the margins, tiny doodles of demon horns and rainbows sprinkled throughout in an effort to satiate your never-ending boredom in class. God, Devildom classes are relentless, filled with endless information and not a lot of stimulation. A deep sigh falls from your lips. Rubbing your temples, you lean back in your chair, eyes closing once more.

“MC, is there anything I can help you with?”

The familiar voice startles you and you start, a small gasp escaping you as your eyes fly open. A few moments later, you finally notice Satan sitting close to the fireplace, book in hand as usual as your face heats up. 

Satan, so goddamn handsome; the one you’ve had your eye on for a while, but were always too intimidated to approach.

“Satan! I-I didn’t even hear you come in,” you stammer in embarrassment, finally beginning to collect yourself and steady your breathing.

Satan’s jade-green gaze studies yours momentarily, brows knit together before his face relaxes. A gentle smile paints his face, and he chuckles, shaking his head. His blond locks fall forward into his face, reaching a hand up to brush them back.

“I have been in here for nearly thirty minutes now,” he says. “You were so focused on your work, I didn’t have the heart to disturb you. Though now, you look a bit...frazzled, so to speak.”

“You can say that again,” you agree, making a face at your messy notes.

It wasn’t that the material exceeded your capabilities; in fact, quite the opposite. You pored endlessly over your work daily since you had arrived not too long ago, paying attention in class and asking questions, with the occasional doodle finding its way onto your notes just to break up the monotony. Your dedication to success was something the brothers, and Diavolo, admired greatly about you. 

It of course caught the attention of the Avatar of Wrath himself, even more so than his brothers. He respected you greatly, your wit and intelligence closely rivaling even his own. He felt an affinity towards you, despite your newness to the Devildom.

Feeling the intensity of his gaze, you look awkwardly down at yourself as your hand reaches to tug at the hem of your skirt, a little too short for your taste. Asmo had insisted on it, claiming R.A.D. needed a bit more excitement. Yeah, excitement for him, maybe. 

Satan’s eyes quickly move to your thighs on the chair, eyeing the way you play with your skirt. A low sound rumbles in his chest at the sight, and he grits his teeth, willing himself under control. It was that time, the few days during each Devildom moon cycle where demons felt their desire to breed skyrocket, nearly going feral to satiate the hunger deep within. The heat period.

He had grown skilled in suppressing the urge, thousands upon thousands of cycles having passed in his lifetime. That isn’t to say he never gave in to it; even he had his moments where he couldn’t ignore the need to feel release, either relieving himself with his own doing, or with the occasional acquaintance made when Asmo had dragged him to one of his opulent parties. More often than not, Satan had simply resisted the pressing need, throwing himself deep into his studies instead. 

That is, until  you  came along. You had piqued his interest, and he fully intended on studying you in his own way, eager to learn. Now you were here, in the place he went to when he was trying to escape his natural urges, wearing that short skirt of yours. That fucking skirt, tempting him like no other, and you have no clue.

Oh, the places his mind went when thoughts of you intruded were certainly risqué as is, nearly every day. He wanted nothing more than to indulge in you, capturing your lips with his in a sweet kiss, exploring each other’s bodies as lovers do. But right now, in the midst of his heat? He’ll throw caution to the wind, risk it all to push you down onto the nearest surface, a hand slipping between your legs. To hear your needy cries for him to fill you with the seed of his sin, each wet thrust laced with lust and desire...

“Well, thank you,” you say after a few quiet moments, oblivious to the demon’s internal struggle across the room. “I don’t think I need anything, at least not yet.”

Your words break Satan’s trance slightly as he nods, eyes moving back up to meet yours.

“Do let me know, in any case.”

“Of course.”

Sighing once more, your gaze returns to the mass of papers and notebooks before you, reaching for your Devildom History binder. Flipping it open to the period right after the Celestial War, each time period labelled painstakingly carefully, you begin to read over highlights of important events.

“MC!”

Satan’s voice calls out to you again from across the room and your eyes flit up to look up at him.

“Yeah?” you ask, wondering what he wants to tell you.

“I am glad you’re in here, and not around my brothers,” Satan says slowly. “I would stay away from them as much as you can over the next several days. They…are not always capable of exercising as much control as I am.”

“Ah.” The heavy implication behind his words is not lost on you, and you nod in understanding. 

You had been in the Devildom for a few months now, and demon heat cycles had already passed. For a brief moment, you wonder why Satan is choosing to warn you now, but decide not to question it, instead choosing to be grateful for his looking out for you.

“Of course. Thank you, Satan.”

The demon watches as you return to your notes before turning to his book before him, settling back in his chair. The heat from the fireplace, coupled with the smell of wood burning, wafts towards him in gentle waves. He feels the tension melt away from his shoulders, relaxing into the comfort of his book; his serenity. Or so he thought.

Satan looks at the words inked onto the page before him, flipping to the next, then the next;  seeing  the words but not actually reading them. The carefully-typed words seem to bleed together as his vision blurs, surreptitiously lifting his head gaze once more at your bare thighs pressed together on the chair. He pictures standing before you, pressing his own knee between them, spreading your legs apart and-

No. Suppress the urge, he tells himself, just like he’s done for millennia. So why is it so fucking hard this time?  His attention turns back to his book, willing himself to exercise the great control over his instinctive urges he had just told you he possessed, only moments ago.

Blissfully unaware, you continue to pore over your notes. God, I don’t even remember writing this much. Several moments pass as you double-check what the exam is going to cover, scribbled into the customized R.A.D. planner Lucifer had so graciously gifted to you upon your arrival in the Devildom. Returning to your notes, you flip ahead several pages, running your finger down the margins as you go, making sure everything in your notes coincides with the necessary topics.

“Huh…”

Your finger stops at a section with uncompleted notes, brows furrowing together in worry. Fuck. You had skipped out on classes that day with bad cramps, telling yourself you’d get the notes from Satan at a later date before the exam, knowing he’d be the only one who would have notes as thorough as your own.

Well, I can’t exactly ask him now. Pride and slight embarrassment get in the way of need. Pursing your lips together and exhaling loudly through your nose, you scoot the chair back and stand slowly. The hem of your skirt flares as you rise and turn towards the seemingly infinite expanse of books behind you. Your hand reaches instinctively to tug it down, willing it to suddenly grow longer to at least mid-thigh. Maybe I should concoct a spell for that: clothes that get shorter or longer at will.

Satan looks up and studies you carefully as you walk over to the historical section of the library, noting the contemplative look on your face. He chuckles at the serious look on your face, wondering if he should call out to you and ask if you need any help picking out a book. Instead, deciding it would be more feasible to show you, he sets his book down onto the table by the fireplace. His mouth opens, about to guide you towards the more recently-published Devildom history books when the sight of you before him slams his jaw shut.

Just several feet away, your body is bent over as you attempt to read the spine of a book near the bottom shelf of the bookcase, another tome already in hand, panties completely exposed. Suddenly, the rush of cool air on your backside as your skirt rides up elicits a small yelp from your lips, dropping the book to the floor as you hurriedly reach back to pull the skirt down. The fabric won’t move any further down, clearly not meant for coverage when your body bends. You straighten quickly, feeling your face practically ignite in embarrassment.

I'm going to kill Asmo! you think to yourself, quickly and carefully squatting to pick up the book you had carelessly dropped in your haste. Thank God Satan has his nose buried in a book and didn’t see …

The low rumble from deep in Satan’s chest as he growls hungrily tells you otherwise. Restraint,  the sweet restraint  that he had been so carefully cultivating since you arrived in the Devildom disappears almost instantaneously.

“You little fucking tease,” he growls, teeth bared.

Satan smirks, a predatory look etched into his handsome features as he saunters toward you. His jewel-toned gaze rakes your body up and down, the image of you bent over, panties barely covering your backside burnt into his mind like a brand. You feel your body instinctively tense, watching the way he moves; a wolf that stalks agonizingly slow over to his next meal, knowing the animal doesn’t stand a chance. A slight shiver courses down what feels like each vertebra of your spine, goosebumps cascading across your arms and bare legs in anticipation. You don’t feel scared, no - you’re turned on by the way he’s looking at you, the most indulgent treat ready to be devoured, and he knows it .

Satan’s smirk grows wider, almost turning into a sadistic grin as he nears you at last. His fingers slide gently under your chin to lift your face towards his, his beautiful green eyes even more mesmerizing in the proximity. They look like shimmering pools of tropical water, enticing you to jump in, and you want nothing more than to drown in them; but the blazing, carnivorous look hardens them, their majestic beauty mismatched with the sentiments currently behind them.

“Such a tease you are, little pet,” the Avatar of Wrath murmurs, his gaze never faltering from yours. “I only just warned you that it is the demon heat cycle, yet here you are, bent over in that short fucking skirt like a slut begging to be bred like she deserves.”

Satan speaks so calmly, in complete contradiction with the wanton desires carved into every cell in his body. Oh, he wants nothing more than to rip each and every flimsy piece of fabric off your pliant little body, cock twitching beneath the constricting fabric of his pants, but that will have to wait. Yes, he will wait until your arousal drips onto your thighs in the anticipation, keening for him, your voice laced with desperation as you plead with him to fuck you. After all, he is nothing if not a patient demon, and what fun is it to pounce on your prey without playing with your food a bit first?

“I-I’m sorry,” you stammer, instinctively continuing to tug down your skirt.

“Sorry? My dear, I am an intelligent demon,” he retorts. “Do you really think of me so unwise, so blind to my instinctual desires that I wouldn’t doubt your sincerity?”

Satan shrugs the green jacket off his shoulders, placing it neatly onto the back of a nearby chair. He takes a few more steps in your direction and leans forward, his lips now mere inches from yours.

“I can practically smell the desire rolling off your tight little body in waves right now, darling. I can see it in your eyes just how badly you want me.”

Satan’s thumb caresses your lip as his mouth moves to your ear, warm breath caressing your skin and smirking once more, watching the way you shiver, the sensation trickling slowly down your spine, nearly shaking in anticipation. You breathe in deeply, inhaling the sweet scent of his skin pressed to yours: the slight musk of old books, and sweeter notes of vanilla and cinnamon lingering on top. Your tongue wets your lips, eager to taste him on yours. 

“Now, now, Kitten,” he purrs, amused by your evident arousal. “Are you so willing, so eager for me to wreck you that you’re turned on merely by a few small gestures? Naughty thing…”

A familiar need washes over you, very nearly as strong as his, despite your humanity. Without realizing, a whine spills from your lips in the wake of another shiver; every fiber of your being  ache s for him, calls out to him to satiate the hunger. The visceral urge to feel him between your legs, sighing in satisfaction in the deliciously slow stretch of your warmth as he eases into you… If you were capable, you’re sure you would be growling as well.

Satan nibbles lightly on the lobe of your ear before his lips find your neck, placing soft, slow, sensual kisses on the underside of your jaw as he makes his way towards your exposed clavicle underneath the unbuttoned shirt of your R.A.D. uniform. You mewl, squeezing your thighs together, the action eliciting the wetness between your legs. Electricity pulses through you in every rhythmic beat of your heart, dampening your panties with each thump, thump, thump in your chest.

The demon laughs softly against you, delighting in your body’s response to him. His mouth moves to the delicate skin above your collarbone, where he nips and sucks it into his mouth, intent on leaving his mark on you. Each press of his lips on your skin leaves a trail of fire burning across, blazing a path in the form of reddish-purple welts imprinted into your skin.  Fuck . You hadn’t anticipated it feeling this good, hands reaching to entangle your fingers in his thick blonde hair, pulling him closer to you. 

You are his.

“Oh, naughty, naughty thing. Here I am, having barely done a thing, and yet…”

His words taper off as he runs his free hand down the curves of your body until it rests just above mid-thigh. Inadvertently, you tighten. The spark of arousal quickly turns into a star shower between your hips, each and every sensitive nerve-ending on high alert, every cell desperate to be touched, to be  felt .

“...you’re practically begging for me. Just what exactly have you been picturing me doing to you in that pretty little mind of yours, hm? Perhaps…”

Satan’s hand trails to the inside of your thigh, dangerously close to your core. You shudder, a tiny moan escaping your lips as he continues to run his thumb across. Achingly slowly, his hand finally reaches between your legs, and he rubs the flimsy, now-soaked fabric of your panties against your heat, adding slight friction to your clit.

“... something like this?”

Your head drops back slightly as you moan, and his cock twitches again; the demon is almost painfully hard beneath his pants, but he’s not done playing with you just yet. No, despite his strong urges, he will be patient. After all, he’s waited thousands of years for a moment just like this. It’s in his nature to toy with you, to elicit those sweet, sweet sounds of anticipation and pleasure from your lips, knowing you’re so far gone to his charms.

“My, my, kitten,” Satan murmurs. “For someone who wasn’t actively trying to get my attention like you say, you are quite wet for me. Are you, perhaps, enjoying yourself?”

Without giving time for a response, he slides a finger under your panties, teasing it against your swollen clit as his lips crash against yours. His tongue presses against your lips, begging entrance; you grant it to him, letting your tongues explore each other's mouths. Moaning into him, you lift a leg to hook around his waist, causing Satan to break off the kiss; a low-pitched growl rumbling loudly from deep within his chest.

“I want you, kitten, I cannot deny that,” he husks. “But when you do things like that, well-”

Satan whirls you around to the table behind you, pushing you down onto it. A knee moves to your thighs, pressing into them to spread you apart ever-so-slightly. His finger hooks under the waistband of your panties, and, with a single tug, rips them off with a loud tear echoing throughout the peaceful calm of the library. Discarding them onto the floor haphazardly, a feral grin twists his handsome face.

“-you make it awfully hard to be sweet with you. Then again, I’m sure you love it rough, don’t you, my dirty little kitten?”

“F-fuck… yes…,” you whimper.

“Well, we’ll have to put that to the test in just a bit. But for now… open yourself to me.”

The carnal desire twists darkly through Satan’s veins as he watches you spread your legs, your dripping pussy on full display. He growls again, louder, hungrier at the sight of you quivering before him, your body begging for his cock without having to say a single word from those pretty lips of yours. Kneeling before you, his green nails find purchase on the soft skin of your inner thighs, digging in slightly. His lips part as his tongue moves, licking a few stripes up your sex. Soft moans against your skin sound from within him as he laps at your essence, pulling away after a few moments.

Satan looks at you then, listens to your needy whimper, fingers curling into the carved wood of the table, an uncontrollable urge to lift you up, slam you against the bookcase and fuck you into it overwhelmingly strong. Eyes glazed over with lust, a blissful, almost  mindless  look on your face; need and arousal woven into every delicate feature. Blood surges deep through his vein, heart working double time in the visceral urge he feels to make you his - and he will.

“Here’s what’s going to happen, kitten,” the Avatar of Wrath purrs, pressing kisses into the soft skin of your thighs. “I’m going to make you feel so good with just my mouth and my fingers, and you’re going to ask for my permission before you cum all over this table. Then, I’m going to bend you over and make you beg for my cock to stretch your needy little pussy out like the desperate slut you are. Is that agreeable to you?”

“Yes, yes, please …” you whimper. “Please, Satan.”

"Already begging for me, hm? That’s a good girl. That’s a very good girl.”

Satan moves his face back to your core, resuming his ministrations, alternating between sucking on your clit and swirling his tongue around it. Your back arches against the table, reaching a hand forward to thread your fingers tightly into his soft, blonde locks. He slides two fingers into your quivering pussy, smirking against your skin as a lewd cry of pleasure escapes you, knowing he’s got you in the palm of his hand… exactly where he wants you.

“Oh, pet, you taste so sweet for me, like the most indulgent dessert in the entirety of the Realms. Tell me, how good does it feel?”

“S-Satan… it feels so fucking good, don’t stop…,” you whine in response.

“Oh, don’t worry. I wasn’t planning on stopping, my pretty little pet. Not until you’re properly prepared for my cock and I make you cum  all over  this table, your face twisting in pleasure, just for me.”

Satan pumps and curls his fingers inside you skillfully, pressing exactly right against your most sensitive spot. The pleasurable pressure floods your body, every nerve ending electrified. His tongue focuses its attention back to your clit, flicking and nibbling the swollen bud, working his fingers in tandem. Eyes roll into the back of your head in ecstasy and your mind is completely fogged over, able to focus only on the demon pleasurable movements. 

Hips roll towards his face, increasing the pressure of his tongue between your legs, and he moans against your pussy before sliding a third finger into you. The onslaught of sensations is nearly too much to bear, and you gasp as your pelvic muscles tighten around his fingers, signaling your oncoming release.  

“Ngh… Satan, I want to cum. Please, let me cum,” you beg, your voice laced in pleasure and desperation.

“Oh, so soon?” Satan laughs softly. “Well, you’ve been so good for me… so wet, and making those sweet sounds just for me. I suppose I can permit you…”

He places a kiss against your clit before moving his mouth to bite down hard into your thigh, leaving a bright red imprint behind. Smiling at the mark, he nods, eager to watch as you come undone before him. Fuck, does he want to see that beautiful face of yours as it twists in pleasure from his ministrations.

“Cum for me, my sweet kitten,” Satan commands.

Your head rocks back against the hard wooden table as your body writhes, feelings of pure ecstasy washing and shuddering through your body in waves. The grip of your fingers woven into his hair tightens as his name falls from your lips, each syllable pronounced with a moan between. Body jerking forward slightly, he delights in watching the slight gushing from between your legs runs down your thighs in deliciously tiny rivulets as your fluid excitement pools beneath your thighs and onto the table beneath you.

Satan pulls back slightly and smirks, lapping at your essence. Another moan sounds from his lips, tasting your sweet release, intent on not wasting a single precious drop before standing, removing his fingers from inside you. You hear yourself whine at the loss of him inside you, desperate to feel that stretch between your walls, the need for him almost physically painful. He grins at you again, a sadistic upturn or his lips as he moves his hands to his pants, making quick work of undoing his belt and zipper to free his cock. 

Watching closely, your eyes focus on him as you come back down from the high of pleasure, collecting your thoughts briefly before the sight of his hardened length before you clouds your mind over once more. You feel nearly light-headed, dizzy with arousal, solely able to think about pushing your hips in time with his as he takes you higher and higher.

Smug, Satan grabs your arm, turning you around. He pushes an arm into your back, effectively forcing you to bend you over the table. His hand reaches around your front to grope your breast through your shirt before taking a fistful of the fabric in his hand, ripping it clean off your body. A breathy gasp spills out of you, barely able to react before your bra suffers the same fate, torn into two on the floor.

“S-Satan! My uniform!” you gasp, studying the tattered garments littered onto the library floor.

“Don’t worry, kitten,” the demon coos, “I’m keeping your slutty little skirt fully intact. I want to watch my cock disappearing between your legs while you wear it.”

Using his free hand to hike the skirt up your thighs, he kicks your legs apart, letting out a loud, animalistic growl at the sight of you, before grabbing your ass cheeks in both hands, spreading you open completely. Fucking hell. How badly he wanted to slam his cock into either one of your needy set of holes, both quivering and clenching in anticipation. Sadistic grin returning, he relishes the power he holds over you at that moment.

“Look at you, spread before me like my favorite book, your needy little pussy just  aching to be stretched out and gaping from my cock,” Satan continues, his voice lowering several notes.

Unable to resist, his mouth moves between your legs, licking another stripe up your slit. Lifting an arm back, Satan brings his hand down to smack your ass, hard. A loud crack sounds across the room, and you hiss with the stinging pain. His eyes move to your ass cheek, delighting in the bright red mark left behind, deciding to give your ass a few more smacks. A groan sounds from behind you, demon form erupting, so thoroughly turned on by your breathy moans. 

“If only you could see yourself, pet, and see just what you’re doing to me. Your pussy is quivering for me, your body so desperate for me to use you and breed you like a dirty little cumslut. Isn’t that exactly what you are, you fucking tease?”

Satan’s hand moves to his cock, teasing his length up and down your dripping wet slit, the feeling of your abundant wetness coating him combined with your needy moans nearly too much for him to bear. Back arching, your hips push back against him instinctively, whining desperation growing louder, the need to feel him almost physically painful. He, too, feels the urge, painfully hard in his own hand. He needs to be inside you  now  , his own desperation beginning to cloud his thoughts… but before that, he needs to hear you beg.

“If you want it, beg me for it, kitten,” he commands.

Without hesitation, your lips part, ready to comply.

“Satan, fuck me, please!” you plead. “I need it. I need you. Please.”

His tail snakes forward and wraps tightly around your wrists, binding them together behind your back.

“Fuck, I love that sound,” he laughs, almost sadistically. “The sound of obedience without a second thought. You’re so fucking hungry for my cock and my cum, you’ll do just about anything, won’t you, you slut?”

Slowly, Satan slides his cock inside you, burying himself to the hilt. 

“I seem to have forgotten, my sweet kitten, exactly which one of us is the one in heat,” Satan laughs. “The way you begged for me to fuck you and to fill you, my pretty little kitten must be in a heat of her own. Spreading her legs and arching her back, moaning to draw in the nearest suitors, just to be fucked, to fulfill her aching needs.”

You moan, finally satisfied at having gained the delicious stretch of his generous cock between your legs. The sound quickly turns into a lewd cry of pleasure that tears from your throat, slicing cleanly through the otherwise pure quiet of the library.

“Your pussy is so hot, tight, and wet for me, kitten. Such a good little whore. I’m going to fuck you into this table until you cum. And when you do, I’m going to fill your needy hole with my cum. I’m going to breed you like the hungry little cockslut that you are.”

“Y-yes, please!” you hear yourself begging again.

Satan shudders, savoring the feeling of your constricting warmth as he begins to fuck you from behind, watching as his cock disappear between your legs. He groans at the sight, snapping his hips into you at an unrelenting pace. His chest presses flush against your back, lips finding purchase on your neck before biting hard into it, intent on leaving more marks. Each thrust elicits a gasping moan from your lips, and he growls once more, feeling the vibration of the sound against your skin.

"Oh, fuck, yes , kitten. Keep making those sounds for me,” Satan groans. “You look so good like this, so helpless for me. I love the noises you make, taking every last inch of my cock.”

Green nails rake across the delicate skin of your back, leaving angry red welts in their wake. His pace quickens, thrusts becoming more frenzied, savoring the way you moan as the pain mixes deliciously with the pleasure. The sinful melody of skin smacking against skin permeates the room, pushing your hips back against his to meet in a harmony only the two of you know. 

His head drops back in pleasure as your pussy squeezes his cock, reaching a hand between your legs to rub circles around your clit with fervor. Your pleasurable cries grow louder with each breath, until their pitch practically reaches a sweet scream. Growing, Satan weaves his free hand into your hair, yanking your head to the side roughly, forcing your eyes to meet his. 

“Such a noisy thing, aren’t you?” he growls. “Do you want my brothers to hear you, striding through those double doors? You probably do, don’t you? My pretty little slut, so uncaring for having an audience, or how many get to fuck her, as long as they can satiate the ache between her legs.”

Satan releases his grip on your hair, moving his hand to press two fingers against your mouth. You part your lips, taking them into your mouth and sucking on them. He continues his merciless thrusts, working in perfect unison with the stimulation on your wet, now-swollen clit. It doesn’t take long before the fire pools low in your belly once more, your release threatening to take over you before you can even ask for permission.

“I want to cum, Satan, please!” your breathy cry rings out against the sounds of your sins.

“Yes, you do, kitten, because I’m making you feel  so  good, aren’t I?” Satan grins smugly with the words. “Cum for me. I want to feel that tight little pussy milking my cock, my name falling helplessly from your lips as you scream in pleasure. I’m going to breed you like the whore you are, and you had better not waste a single. Fucking. Drop.”

Time feels like it slows for a blissful few moments, your release building, more intensely than the first time. 

“F-fuck, S-Satan!”

Your eyes practically roll back as your head drops forward, body shuddering. The wildfire of pleasure roils relentlessly, burning through your veins second by sweet second, every cell in your body filled with the delicious feeling. Satan groans, his own release rapidly approaching. He continues to fuck into you as you cum before giving in to it, moaning loudly as he empties himself inside you almost endlessly, filling you to the brim with ropes and ropes of cum.

“Fuck, Kitten,” Satan pants, his chest heaving as he pulls out of you. “But I’m not done with you quite yet.”

His tail releases its hold on your wrists. Grabbing your arm again before you can drop forward, he gently turns you to face him, pressing his lips to yours in a deep, passionate kiss briefly before he flips you over onto your back. Hands move to spread your legs, pushing your knees to your chest. Satan observes you closely, peering between your legs; admiring your pussy, his seed dripping a slow trail onto the tops of your thighs before sliding onto the table beneath you. 

“I did say you had better not waste a single drop,” he muses, “yet here you are, leaking onto the table.”

Satan shakes his head before rubbing a thumb over your swollen clit. Feeling smug, he rubs just a bit faster, knowing the bundle of nerves is extra sensitive after your release, basking in the lewd noises you make.

“You fucking slut, you’re practically gaping for me. No wonder you can’t even keep all my cum inside you,” he chides, kneeling between your legs. “Perhaps I should help to ensure it stays inside of you?”

Pressing his fingers together, he slides his hand into your pussy.

“That’s my good girl,” Satan praises you, grinning at the way you continue to writhe at his touch. 

The generous stretch of your pussy with his hand feels so good, nearly as good as his cock and you moan louder and bite your lip, head dropping back. A bulge appears between your hips as he begins to pump his fist slowly back and forth inside you, the movement causing a few more droplets of his cum to spill out onto your thighs, and can't help but laugh a little.

“Oh, I suppose this just means I need to fill you up again to ensure you’re bred properly, my beautiful little cumslut,” he resolves, voice laden with silk.

Pulling his fist from between your legs, he quickly replaces it with his tail, dipping it into your slick pussy and thrusting it in and out a few times.

"Wouldn't want you feeling empty for too long, pet," Satan purrs.

The ridges play beautifully over your g-spot, and you gasp at the feeling. God, how fucking delectable you look in that moment. Eyes glazed over and blown out with lust, so far gone to him. You are his, but he isn’t done with you just yet. 

Satan smirks in satisfaction before sliding his tail out of your wet heat, moving it down and pressing the tapered tip of his tail against your puckered hole. Your eyes widen, curiosity and surprise widening your pupils.

“This time, kitten, I’m going to fuck both of your holes until you ask me to let you cum all over my cock; until you cum so  hard , you’re seeing stars.”

Satan presses his tail, thoroughly coated in your arousal, harder against your ass, a smug look overtaking his handsome features as you whine. Your legs fold back, knees pressed into your chest as you open yourself completely to him.

“Do it, Satan, please ,” you beg him, eyes pleading with urgency. “I just want to be so full of you, full of your cock and your cum. Please.”

With your permission, he slides his tail into your ass, grinning sadistically as your head rocks back against the table, clenching slightly, the sinful melody of your sweet moans the most beautiful music he has  ever  heard. He pumps it back and forth a few times, slowly at first, tapered ridges massaging the tight muscles, working to open you to him just a bit further. Feeling yourself loosen, his tail begins to move just a bit faster.

“Such a desperate little slut, begging to let me wreck your holes. I hope you’re ready now to take all of me, pet,” Satan murmurs.

“I am, I am, just please fuck me!”

“Gladly, kitten.”

Placing both hands on your hips, Satan pushes his cock back inside your needy pussy, lifting your hips and groaning at the way your tight walls quiver around him. He slams into you mercilessly, propping up your legs to rest on his shoulders, allowing him to push deeply, until he can go no further. Eyes move down to your abdomen where he is greeted by the swell of his cock between your hips. Another feral growl sounds from his chest at the sight of it, moving even faster, mesmerized by the way your body bends to his  every  move. 

“Look, pet,” he growls. “That’s right. That’s my cock swelling in your belly, stretching your tight little body out.”

Snapping his hips into you at an animalistic pace, his growls grow louder, demonic instinct taking over; the careful restraint he tried so hard to maintain completely gone at the sight of your belly distending with his cock inside it. He sees red, sees nothing but fulfilling his natural desires in the form of fucking your holes without mercy.

“Harder, Satan, harder! It feels so good, don’t hold back,�� your voice rings out, words stunted by small gasps and moans. 

The demon growls in slight annoyance, reaching a hand up to your throat, wrapping his fingers around it and squeezing lightly. His cock and his tail move in perfect sync, sliding in and out of your tight holes, increasing their pace as he fucks harder into you, caring little for your comfort as you bite back a scream.

“Is this what you want, kitten?” Satan’s words escape him in a feral snarl. “You like pushing boundaries, don't you, seeing exactly how much you can take or how much you can get away with? I think you may have forgotten, my sweet pet, of exactly who is in charge of your pleasure here. Perhaps you need a reminder.”

Snaking a hand between your legs, he rubs your clit feverishly. The Avatar of Wrath relishes your cries of pleasure, increasing in volume with each thrust until they near the high pitch of a scream.

“That’s right,” Satan growls. “Keep making those sounds for me, my sweet pet. Now…  cum for me for a third time tonight like a good girl.”

The sweet, sweet pressure in your ass and your pussy is too much to bear, and your release slams into you with no warning. Body writhing beneath him, your back arches, electrified ecstasy coursing through your veins as your heart pumps into every part of your body. A high-pitched scream of pleasure cuts through the air, surely loud enough to wake his brothers, but he doesn’t care.

“That’s my good girl, kitten,” he rasps, words stunted in his efforts. “I’m right behind you…”

Moving at a brutally fast pace, Satan chases his own release. It grips him shortly after you cum, and he spills into you endlessly once more, groaning and filling your pussy with his bitter seed. He pulls out of you, slowly removing his tail from your ass and keeping your legs spread, kneeling before you once more. Noting the way his cum continually leaks from your gaping pussy onto the library table, he shakes his head, chuckling again as he zips his pants back up.

“Well, I suppose that just gives me another excuse to have to keep filling you up, hm, kitten?” Satan laughs, reaching a hand out to you.

“S-Satan… thank you…,” you whimper, gazing into the mesmerizing pools of jade sea you have come to know well over the course of the night before grabbing his hand, lacing your fingers through his.

“Oh? Thanking me?” he says in surprise, a genuine grin on his face. “I suppose I have to thank you as well, my sweet kitten. Thank you for taking all of me, and for giving me all of yourself.”

Satan steps back to pull you up to sitting as you pant and try to collect yourself. He wraps an arm around your waist, bearing your weight, your eyes closing in sudden exhaustion. He lifts you up off the table, pressing soft kisses against your forehead. You protest, starting to say something about leaving your notes behind and needing to study when Satan silences you with a deep kiss, pulling away after a few moments with a wink.

“Come, pet. Spend the night with me, and we will come to collect your things tomorrow. I believe a few healing spells and a bath are in order. And then, perhaps, see if we can’t get you those missing notes you’ve been searching for.”

[chaoticpuff17]

A Dangerous Game

part 12

masterlist

Namjoon left in a huff after that leaving both Y/N and Jungkook in shock. Neither of them really knew what to make of his exit as they looked at each other with mirrored looks of confusion.

“Well that was interesting.” She laughed. “Shall we walk around the garden?” She suggested smiling at the younger man. What else were they really supposed to do?

She had the time but not the inclination to stay and contemplate what was going around in Namjoon’s head. That was a twisted mess she had no interest in detangling. If you entered the labyrinth that was his mind you were likely to never come out again. It was not a risk she was willing to take, and so instead they walked around the garden.

Jungkook, she found, was a rather shy young man. He didn’t say much, but he followed her like a shadow as they wandered about the gardens. She was looking for an exit. He was making sure she didn’t do anything Namjoon wouldn’t approve of. At least that was what they were doing before they were accosted by the happiest ball of fluff she had ever seen.

“Who is this cutie?” She asked kneeling down to scratch behind the dog’s ears.

Jungkook kneeled down as well smiling as he gave the dog attention as well. “This is Moni. He’d Namjoon hyung’s dog.”

“Namjoon has a dog?” Jungkook nodded. “That man, the devil himself, has a white fluffy dog?” Again, he nodded. And she couldn’t help but laugh. It just seemed so out of character. Weren’t crime lord’s supposed to keep tough dogs like Rottweilers and Pitbulls? But here was possibly the cutest little ball of fluff she had ever seen.

“Your hyung is a very strange man.” She told Jungkook. “Does he even have time for a dog? You know between the illegal activities and kidnapping women?”

“Moni spends a lot of time with the staff.”

“Well that’s no good. Moni and I will just have to be friends from now on. Won’t we, Moni?” She cooed smooshing the dogs face. It was her dog now.

“Come along, boys!” She smiled standing back up straightening out her skirt ready to continue their walk.  

She found out rather quickly that the gardens were enclosed by a wall, a very tall wall, but there were trees, trees that were very climbable. They could get her close to the top of the wall. The problem was that she didn’t know what was on the other side of that wall or how many goons Namjoon had watching the perimeter of the estate. And then there was her new problem. Jungkook. How was she supposed to get rid of her new shadow? Those would all have to be problems for another time though. She didn’t have the free reign she needed to properly scope out the area and plot.

Her days quickly fell into a new routine. She would wake up and go to her breakfasts with Namjoon in the morning and share a meal with him in the evening. Other than that she would be free to spend the day as she pleased, so long as she remained within the boundaries of the estate. Jungkook would be with her wherever she went or at the very least waiting just outside the door. The only time Jungkook was not with her was when either Namjoon or Jin was, but Jin’s visits could not be as frequent as she would have liked them to be. But she found a great friend in Jungkook.

The young man was like a younger brother to her now, and she no longer minded his constant presence in her life. He also came with the added bonus of sneaking her into activities that were not quite Namjoon approved such as Mario Kart tournaments or movie marathons. Of course the house staff knew of her activities, but no one could begrudge her a few luxuries without the boss’ knowing especially not when there was so little to keep someone occupied when you did the same things day after day. So they kept her secret, and Namjoon never knew of the little indulgences Jungkook allowed her.

It had been maybe three weeks since she’d been released from her rooms, and she was wondering the garden with Moni and Jungkook like she did most days. Her days were an endless cycle of wandering the gardens, playing the piano, and reading books that Namjoon had prepared. She and Jungkook would have tea in the garden. It wasn’t that harsh of a life. Namjoon treated her well in fact. The only real complaint she had, other than being a prisoner, was how monotonous her gilded cage was. If you didn’t know she was a prisoner, you never would have suspected it. She was treated as the lady of the house, Namjoon’s precious wife.

She was grateful for the gardens and for the piano room. She was even grateful for Jungkook, her guard, her shadow. When it was just the two of them and Moni, she could almost forget that she was a prisoner and that Jungkook was her guard. She could almost forget that he wouldn’t hesitate to turn her into Namjoon if she slipped up. But or a few moments at least, she could forget.  

“I’d heard that Namjoon had found himself a woman.” An unfamiliar voice spoke startling her from her reverie.

Looking up she found a man smiling down at her. He was handsome with a lovely smile that normally would have given her butterflies, but nothing was normal about her life these days, and everyone she met was in Namjoon’s pocket.

She stood up straight and smoothed out the fabric of her skirt as Jungkook watched carefully from a few feet away where he had been playing with Moni while she watched the Koi from the bridge. “He hasn’t.”

“Then you’re not the lady of the house I’ve heard so much about?”

“That depends on who you ask.” She scoffed a frown marring her features.

“And what do you say?”

Y/N laughed, the sound bitter. “You must be new. What I say doesn’t matter here. All of Namjoon’s men know who I am and what my position here is. And if you don’t know you’re probably not one of Namjoon’s men.”

“And if I told you I wasn’t one of Namjoon’s men?” He asked curiously.

“Then I’d say you’re an idiot for being here.”

The stranger threw back his head and laughed.  “I can see why Namjoon likes you. I’m Mark.”

“Y/N.” She replied shaking his out stretched hand. “So why hasn’t Jungkook removed you yet? He’s watching us like a hawk.”

“Jungkook?”

“The man staring daggers at you from the lawn.” She shrugged. “He’s here to make sure I don’t do anything stupid like try to hop the fence.”

“A caged bird then.” He hummed.

She narrowed her eyes taking him in. In all her time at the estate she hadn’t once met anyone who wasn’t under Namjoon’s thumb. But this man claimed not to be one of Namjoon’s goons.

“So who are you if you don’t work for Namjoon?”

“I’m an associate of his. I have a few businesses based in Taiwan and America”

“Legitimate business or Namjoon’s kind of business?”

He laughed again showing off a dazzling smile. Why were all these mafiosos so attractive? It was a carefree and happy expression, but there was something sharp lingering in his eyes. “A bit of both, darling.”

“Figures.” She sighed turning back to the pond and leaning on the railing of the bridge. “No one who comes here is anything less than shady.”

Mark gasped placing a hand over his heart. “Are you calling me shady? Darling, I’m offended.”

“I met you two minutes ago in a mob boss’ house.” She deadpanned.

“Point taken.” He shrugged nonplussed by her lack of enthusiasm.

“I suppose since you’re an associate of Namjoon’s I can’t convince you to sneak me back to the states.” She glanced over at him knowing full well he wasn’t going to get her out of this nightmare.

“Plotting your escape, jagi?” Her spine stiffened, and she immediately stood upright again at the sound of his voice.

There he was, sauntering up the bridge towards them as put together as ever in one of his suits. Y/N knew immediately that she was in trouble. Though he was smiling, his eyes were cold and hard.

“Tuan.” He greeted the other man with a curt nod.

“Kim.” Came the equally as curt reply.

“Jagi.” Namjoon beckoned her to his side, and she dutifully went unwilling to make him any angrier than he already seemed. He wrapped an arm round her waist, and pulled her into his side. “I do recall that guests are meant to wait in the parlor, Tuan.”

The other man smiled. “Yes, but you have such beautiful gardens. I couldn’t resist a stroll. And I got to meet the lovely, Y/N.” Namjoon’s hand tightened uncomfortably on her hip.

“Jagi, I believe Miss In has prepared tea for you in your rooms.” He squeezed her hip again flashing her a cold smile as she paled. “Tuan, I believe that you and I have business to discuss.” Namjoon motioned for Jungkook, who had moved closer during the encounter, to come and collect her. “There’s a lovely pavilion we can talk in since you enjoy the garden so much.”

He passed her over to Jungkook all the while maintaining his coldly polite smile. The message was clear. Her time in the garden was finished for today, and Namjoon didn’t want her anywhere near Mark. It probably didn’t help that he had walked right into a conversation about her trying to leave. She would probably be paying for that comment later.

“Until next time, Y/N.” Mark bid her goodbye with a sly smile as Jungkook gently herded her back towards the house, Moni following at their heels.

For the rest of the day Y/N was confined to her rooms. She wasn’t locked in like she had been before, but Jungkook stood guard outside making it clear that she wasn’t allowed out until Namjoon himself came to release her. As promised, Miss In had provided tea, but that was the last she had seen of anyone.

Boredom had quickly set in. She finished the book she had with her, and had resorted to rereading it when there was nothing else to do.

“Jagiya.” She was startled from her book by Namjoon. He stood in the doorway with his arms folded across his chest his features set in a stern look.

She sighed uncurling herself from the corner of the sofa and setting the book aside. “I wish you wouldn’t call me that. I’m not your sweet heart or honey or whatever.”

“Jagiya.” The endearment was stated more sternly this time.

“Yes, Namjoon?” She asked keeping her eyes on her hands folded neatly in her lap. She knew full well that she was in trouble.

“Oh, jagiya.” He cooed crossing the room. One of his hands came up to cup her jaw forcing her to look at him. “Talking to strange men in the garden? What were you thinking? What if he had hurt you?”

She pushed his hand away. “I doubt that you would allow someone into the house who would cause disruption. You’re far too careful for that. Besides, Jungkook wouldn’t let anything happen.”

“I appreciate the faith you have in me, jagi, but I don’t appreciate you talking to strange men.”

“He was your guest, and we only spoke for a moment.” She scoffed.

He smiled at her, bu the expression was cold and sharp. “Yes, you spoke for a moment, and yet you still managed to ask him for help leaving me.” Suddenly, she found the yellow of her dress very fascinating. “Did you really think that was a good idea, jagi?”

“I didn’t think he’d actually do it.” She murmured plucking at the fabric of her skirts.

He tsked under his breath. “I thought we’d put all those silly thoughts out of your head, jagi. You’ve been so good recently.” One hand snaked up to grasp her hair at the nape of her neck forcing her to look up at him with a gasp of pain. “Don’t you like it here, jagi?”

“I would burn this whole place to the ground with you in it if I could.” She hissed.

He released her with a chuckle moving instead to cage her against the sofa with two hands on either side of her head. “I know you would, jagi.” The smile he sent her made her skin crawl.

They both knew that she didn’t have any power in the relationship, but that only made his condescending attitude worse. He’d kept her here for weeks and weeks neither of them budging. But there wasn’t really anything she could do anyway, not yet anyway. Even if she somehow managed to escape the estate, she would still be in a foreign city with no phone, no passport, no money, and no way to contact the only person she knew here. She didn’t even know if Eun-ho had recovered from their crash. No one would tell her anything.

“I want you to know, jagi, that if you did manage to escape, you wouldn’t get far. I can promise you that nothing would stop me from finding you and dragging you back to me. You are mine, my wife. There is nowhere on this earth you can hide from me.” He smirked cruelly bringing a hand to her cheek in a gesture that was far more gentle than his words. “Not even that little friend of yours bothering the police can help you now. He came all the way from America for you.” She felt her heart drop, plummeting into her stomach. “Anything you’d like to tell me, jagi?”

part 13

[imagine-loki]

Blood Dahlia

TITLE: Blood Dahlia  CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 1 AUTHOR: Flowerhoe  ORIGINAL IMAGINE:  Imagine you're an assassin in an omegaverse that's been hired to kill Loki but he catches you. Instead of killing or imprisoning you, he binds you to Asgard as one of his personal guards under both princely and alpha authority, hoping to cure his boredom by watching you slowly lose your mind being stuck in his presence. RATING:  Overall: M Current Chapter: PG

NOTES/WARNINGS: This is my first fanfic in a loooooong time so bear with me. I’m new to submissions but hopefully all goes well and you guys can enjoy my stories. 

I occasionally live-write and you can access the google doc here. You can check it whenever for updates or you can pm me and I can add you to a ping list for when I decide to live-write. Emjoy!

~~~~

  The backwater bars of the galaxy always smelled the same, the scent of piss and cheap ale rising up from the often basement level pubs like smog. Dahlia had come to enjoy these places, seeing as they existed in every realm, they were as if home followed her. Now, whether backwater pubs feeling like home was a good thing was up for speculation, but was a concern she generally ignored.

Other than ordinarily enjoying not being sober, places like this were prime spots for hunting contracts, especially on Vanaheim’s less than lucrative market which drew in smaller but far more simple cases; the most exciting thing you’d usually find in Vanaheim as an assassin were back-alley squabbles and the occasional intimidation job. While small talent gigs generally paid less, there were plenty to be found to make up for the lack of effort they required, as well as the pay difference. 

“Hey Daffodil,” a scruffy-looking Vanir manning the rugged bar chuffed, waiting to continue until she met his eyes.

“It’s Dahlia.”

“Yeah yeah, Dandelion. Look, you’ve been here for hours and ordered one drink. If you keep holding up the bar I’m gonna have to ask you to switch to a table or somethin.” Dahlia just waved the man off, flicking a gold piece across the counter in annoyance. The bartender grumbled, slapping a meaty hand over the coin and dragging it away. “Better keep ordering,” the Vanir groused as he sloshed another tankard her way, nearly hitting her in the chest with the cheap ale within. Dahlia shot him a glare, catching it right before it could ruin her currently dry clothes. “I’m waiting for contracts. I’ll order when I order.”

“Contracts, aye?” the bartender huffed, dropping a few glasses into a tub of gray day-old dishwater. “There’s a Sakaarian that dropped off a datalink looking for someone to take up a job. People’ve been rejecting it for days. I haven’t seen it but it seems like it pays well. I’ll forward the contract your way,” he hummed, nodding towards the datapad on her arm before tapping something behind the counter. 

Dahlia looked down at her arm as the device beeped, tapping the notification that popped up on its surface. Of the many contracts Dahlia had been offered, this one was by far the only one with that many zeros in the pay bar. Unsurprisingly, the zeros had been the first thing she’d seen, instilling a giddy bit of excitement in her; with this kind of money, she’d be able to retire at the ripe old age of nine hundred and thirty-four. Well, retire for the next thousand years or so. Sadly, the next thing she saw was the name a few lines above that wonderfully long series of numbers, Loki Laufeyson. By instinct Dahlia almost hit reject immediately, stopping herself halfway through the motion; those were a lot of zeros.

“Who’d you say offered the contract?” the Asgardian asked, tearing her eyes from the name long enough to meet the Vanir’s gaze. He just shrugged, beginning to wipe the counter with a dirty rag.

“Some Sakaarian. Didn’t leave a name. That serious huh? The rest of em just rejected and left in a tizzy. Gave a generous tip.“ Dahlia could hear the tone in his voice with the last part, feeling the directed intent he put behind it. He continued when she didn’t react. “I don’t read the contracts on principle, but whatever’s on there gotta be pretty serious to spook off so many of you folks.” 

The Asgardian just hummed, downing her drink quickly and standing from her stool. And turning to leave. “Thanks. Though I’d start reading your contracts if I were you. You’d get tried for treason if anyone with any common sense found out this kind of contract cycled through here.” The bartender just shrugged and went back to wiping the counter, apparently having heard similar before. 

Stepping out of the dank pub Dahlia made her way up the steps and over to where she’d hitched her horse, untying the large stallion and swinging into the saddle. Once the pair had left the village proper Dahlia zoned out into her datapad, eyes locked between the zeros and the name. In truth, she was tempted to ask Átthagi what he thought of the job. She knew the horse had no answers, but he’d been along for so many of her money-guided escapades she was sure if he could talk he’d have something to say about the matter. 

On one hand, she was Asgardian, and a well-trained one at that; she’d have easier access to the palace than most. On another, she was Asgardian; if she did this, she’d never be able to go back home again. Of course, that point was moot given just how many zeros were in that pay bar. She wouldn’t really need to come back to Asgard with that much money in her pockets. That didn’t really cover just how far Asgard would extend its power to find her should she kill their prince. Then again, this was Loki. 

Dahlia hadn’t been home in years, favoring the other realms to fill her time and her pockets as compared to the dreariness of Asgard. For some of the other races, Asgard seemed like a paradise of plenty, filled with bountiful feasts and general prosperity. While all of this was reality, Asgard never seemed to change much. Yes, there was an occasional royal scandal or other realmly rabble-rousers, the planet itself was stuck in endless repetition and had been since the fall of Hela. While the peace was nice, Asgard was no home for someone like her. 

She sighed, looking at the datapad again. Fuck it, she thought, pushing the green-hued accept button. She might as well go out with a bang with billions of units on the line than die in some back-alley dump with only a couple hundred to her name.