#five creatures chapter three

[dismas-n-dismay]

Me after reading a typical wtfoctagon fic (it literally is a master class in lesbian writing)

[novemberheart]

{overview} you make a disturbing discovery while in John’s office

{warnings} fem reader, a/b/o dynamics, short chapter, slight angst

Chapter 23 <- Chapter 24 -> Chapter 25

While you had never been happier, a part of you was ready to return to base. You missed your friends and the routine that came along with it. You wouldn't miss your pack being sent to the odds and ends of the world, but you knew they were more than capable.

You and the betas drove back to base, while the alphas flew. Vernie didn't have all her shots to be able to fly. Luckily, the betas would never turn down a road trip.

“This is your new home,” you cheered softly. The familiar smell of the flat tickling your brain. The puppy decided to take great interest in the cords near the TV.

“Gonna have to puppy-proof,” Simon huffed, grabbing the squirming creature off the floor. You expected him to pass her to you, instead, he sat down on the couch placing her in his lap. You cleaned up around your room, dusting things and finishing the loads of laundry from vacation. “You’re happy,” Simon stated, looking over his shoulder at you.

“It’s nice to be back. Not going to be happy about any of you leaving though,” You mumbled the last part, flopping down on the couch next to him. Vernie crawled over to you.

“I’d hope not,” Simon grunted, causing you to roll your eyes.

There was hardly a day to get back into the swing of things. The boys being pulled for trainings and meetings. You quickly regretted saying you were happy to be back.

“Five more minutes,” you whined, Kyle’s phone alarm lighting up the room. The sun hadn't even started to come up yet.

“Alright,” Kyle agreed quickly. He put his phone on snooze, worming back under the covers with you. You both jolted awake ten minutes later to pounding at the door. “Fuck,” Kyle cursed stumbling out of bed. You giggled, the door opening to reveal a pissed-off John.

“How the hell are you supposed to train others when you can't even manage yourself?” He snapped. He pushed his way into the room, bumping into Kyle who was changing into his uniform. He bent down pressing a kiss against your cheek. “Good morning, pretty girl,” his voice was startlingly different- yet you had gotten used to that. You wrapped your arms around his neck, making sure to rub as much of your scent on him as you could.

“Good morning, alpha.”

In John’s eyes you were too sultry for your own good. “I’ll come back and get you for lunch,” he pressed another kiss against you, grabbing Kyle by the scruff, knowing if the beta had the opportunity to kiss you goodbye he would never get to training.

“God, I missed you!” Anais grinned wickedly, wrapping her arms tightly around you. Even Jane seemed happy to see you. Anais had signed all three of you up for badminton, which ended with all of you trying to get the badminton birdie out of Vernie’s mouth.

Regardless, it was fun.

“I’m hungry,” Anais sighed, even as she chewed on her bag of trail mix. “Lunch?” She questioned eyeing both of you.

“I can't. I have lunch with my alpha,” You explained stretching out on the grass.

“Oh, that's right. It’s Wednesday,” she sighed. “Need us to drop you off before we head out?” She asked, moving to a stand.

“That would be great,” you perked up. Vernie was exhausted at this point- not being the most high-energy pup in the first place. “Hey, they are having a movie night in the park Friday. We should do that,” You suggested, causing Anais to light up.

“Just as long as it’s not a scary movie this time,” Jane huffed, making the two of you chuckle. They dropped you off outside the office building, and you made quick work getting to John’s office. You couldn't be caught hanging around by yourself. You knocked at the door not hearing a response. You tugged out your key card, waiting for the small light to flicker green.

“This is John’s office,” you explained to Vernie. Even though she couldn't hear you, you could tell she liked it when you talked to her. You locked the door behind you, setting the pup down on the floor, making yourself at home on the leather couch. John’s office was classically handsome just like him. Well as nice as it could be with what he had to work with. You pulled out your phone, shooting him a text of your whereabouts. Vernie digging in the trash can caught your attention.

“Out of there Vern,” you scolded gently, grabbing her around her middle. She had a folder in her mouth she just wouldn't let go. “Vernie,” you chided again, pulling it out of her jaws as much as you could without hurting her. You finally succeeded, ready to throw it back into the trash when the label caught your eye.

OHH

You knew what that stood for. Omega Holding House. A wave of uneasiness crashed over you. You shook yourself out of your thoughts. It was probably just leftover paperwork from you. You tossed it back in the trash standing back on your feet, bringing you and Vernie back to the couch.

You couldn't relax. Those three letters remained even when you closed your eyes- taunting you. You stood up slowly, creeping back by the trash can, and pulling the folder back out. You pursed your lips trying to manage your breathing. You placed it on his desk, opening it like something would jump out at you.

Something did. A cover letter, typed and signed by Kate Laswell.

Possible Omegas for Task Force 141

It had been typed in bold, obnoxiously large letters like it was the greatest achievement one could have. ‘Possible’ the words pounded in your head repeatedly making it throb. You flipped to the next page. It was a profile of an omega, the first thing that caught your eye was the large red X through it. Must be John's writing. You flipped to the next page. Another profile- another X through it. You weren't quite sure why they had got rejected. Nothing in their biography seemed like a red flag and they were all pretty. The next page- another X.

You whined when you flipped to your page. The large red X staring up at you. It was rejection to the highest degree. Kate had even wrote a special note on yours.

Pay close attention to this one. She's a good girl.

John had written a note himself, addressing Laswell.

Not happening

You knew he probably didn't mean you specifically, and that he was referring to having an omega as a whole, but it hurt. The type of pain that made you sink to the floor. They type of pain that made your lungs feel like they were collapsing. The type of pain that comes from falling in love with someone only to have them shut the door in your face.

You flipped to the next page because what did you have to lose?

A lot apparently.

There was no red X. There was no marking on the page at all. You flipped to the next page- the last page- a red X. It was just her page without an X.

She was the one he had wanted. Who knows? Maybe all of them wanted her. You could practically see them in this office digging through each paper, judging every imperfection on each profile- including yours. She had no imperfections. She was beautiful, purebred, and came from a long line of military alphas. She was the shining star of her omega-holding house. Never once getting in trouble, always being an active participant, showing signs of being a strong, traditional omega, and her heat cycles were always regular. The opposite of you in nearly every way. The more you read the more hurt you got. You closed the file, trying to calm your sobs enough so you didn't pass out. Vernie was at your feet pawing up your ankle. You scooped her up into your arms, making your way back home.

People stared at you. You could only imagine the rumors. You were undoubtedly the most dramatic omega on base- at least the one that caused the most trouble. Your tears made people stay away from you and you were able to get all the way home without a hitch. You shut your bedroom door, throwing yourself on your bed sobbing. Your heart twisted painfully in your chest. You regretted everything. You regretted agreeing to come here, you regretted warming up to each of them so quickly, you regretted sleeping with John.

John.

The name made you sob harder.

It wasn’t fair.

Would you ever be someone's first choice?

I hated writing thisssssssss😩but we can't live in peace for too long! See you in two days for Chapter 25!!!

[the-avengers-not-the-nazis]

Bad moon rising I

Summary: After a nasty divorce, you and your family are forced to live with your Grandpa in the lovely notorious Santa Carla, California. Filled with punks, geeks, surfer nazis and apparently all kinds of creatures of the night.

Word count: 3.1k

Poly!lost boys x Emerson!reader

[1] [2] [3] [4]

A/n: This is the first time writing for the lost boys, I will let yall know if there are any major warnings in each chapters or not. But I hope that you guys enjoy reading the first chapter.

‘Don't go around tonight

Well it's bound to take your life

There's a bad moon on the rise’

Your legs were killing you. 

After hours of sitting in the back seat of the Land Cruiser, you were growing restless. And Nanook didn’t really help when the dog draped his entire body over your lap, his weight making both of your legs go numb. 

You could hear the sounds of your brothers and mom arguing over which radio station they should listen too for the rest of the drive. The occasional static from the radio making you roll your eyes. 

Maybe your legs weren’t the only thing tired from the long drive, maybe the voices of your family were starting to drive you crazy. 

“Oh,” your mom suddenly said, turning up the music that was currently on. “This one is from my generation.” A smile inched its way on your face as you watched mom dance along to the music. 

Both Sam and Micheal turned to face each other, a soft grin playing other lips as they listened to the ole timey song. “Keep going.” They said together. 

“Ok, ok, I get it.” Mom said as she switched the channel. “My music isn’t hip enough for you guys.”

You leaned forward in your seat, hand resting on Nanooks fur to keep him still. “Hip?” 

“Yeah, you know. Cool, fresh, narly.” Your mom told you, bringing her hand up to do a surfers hand gesture. 

You glanced over at Micheal, trying to see if he too was hearing what mom was describing. He just gave you a playful eye roll, and a shake of his head. Not wanting to tell mom that nobody actually used those words in real life. 

“We’re almost there.” Your mom told you in a sing song manor. 

Glancing past Micheal you saw a billboard, the words Welcome to Santa Carla read across the front, an image of the towns beach drawn on cartoonishly. 

Sam let out a gag, his nose turnt up towards the window. “What’s that smell?” He asked, quickly rolling up the glass to try and block the stench from entering the car. 

Mom closed her eyes, taking a long sniff of the outside breeze. “That’s the ocean air, baby”

“It smells like someone died.”

You snorted at your youngest brothers comment, he wasn’t totally wrong. The saltyness that suffocated the air around you was a bit much, but you’d grow used to it, you all will eventually. 

“Look guys, I know the last year has been tough.” Mom said, glancing back at the rear view mirror at both you and Micheal. “But I think your really gonna like it here.”

You couldn’t count on either hands on how many times your mother had said those exact words to you three. It always starts with the ‘I know’ and always ends in your really gonna like this place. But, if you were being a hundred percent honest you missed back home. 

All of your friends and what’s left of your now broken family is all back home in Phoenix. And you know that mom is doing all that she can to keep everything positive, but deep down you know that the divorce is hurting her just as badly as it is hurting you and your brothers. 

As the car continued to drive down the road, you watched as the sign showed the back. It was packed with graffiti art and even a couple of stickers stuck to wood. But, what caught your attention most was the five letter word painted in black and red. 

Murder capital of the world.

Upon entering Santa Carla, you’ve noticed that there is just about any type of person you could imagine walking along the streets. There were girls in bathing suits, guys with halve shaved heads, groups of tourists, the locals, nerds, jocks. Hell you even saw a dog with its fur colored pink. 

You just hoped that at night the people were better looking. 

Mom pulled beneath the cover of a food shack, allowing everyone to step out and get some fresh air after ten hours on the road. Sam leashed up Nanook and took him to the bathroom, also venturing his new home town by himself as he did so. 

You woke up your legs as you stepped out of the Land Cruiser, the nerves shooting up and down your body, you wobbled a bit on your feet before steadying yourself against the car. You felt sweat begin to form beneath your clothes, causing them to stick uncomfortably to your skin. “Holy cow.” You muttered gently fanning yourself to try and cool off a little. 

You were used to the heat from the sun, but God, the humidity is what’s gonna kill you this summer.  

As you continued to fan yourself off, you noticed all the small shops that surrounded you. They were old and kind of antique-ish looking. But, past that laid the boardwalk, were you knew you’d be spending the remainder of you summer break and nights. 

Sam came jogging back towards the car, Nanook right on his tail. He stopped before mom as he pointed a finger at the boardwalk behind him. “Mom! Mom, there’s and amusement park right on the beach.”

Instead of acknowledging the said park, you watched as mom pulled out a small wad of cash. Placing it in Sam’s hand she gestured to a group of homeless kids rummaging through the dumpster. “Sam, tell those kids to eat something. Will ya’?”

As you watch Sam walk over towards the kids, you notice a telephone pole covered from head to toe in posters. Stepping away from the car and wandering over you read a few, hoping to catch a couple help wanted ads or even just something small enough to help out your family. 

Though instead of any job listing you did find a good amount of missing children posters. Actually, it’s just about a missing everyone poster. There is a little boy that looks about six, a grainy picture of him is nailed down with staples. And beside it is a man in what looks like his mid to early fourties, his balding head and crooked teeth makes you wonder who would miss a guy like that. 

Glancing past the telephone pole, you eyed the teenagers in the dumpster carefully. For all you know these kids could go missing next, and no one would try and look for them. 

The thought made your stomach twist in a discusted knot, the idea that you or even one of your brothers could turn up missing one day and nobody would bat an eye, didn’t sit right with you. 

A car honked from behind you, turning around you noticed that your family is back in the cars AC and that they are all waiting on you. “Y/n, sweetheart.” Your mom called, poking her head out the window. “We have to go, grandpas waiting for us.”

You quickly made your way back to the car, plopping back down in your seat as mom slowly pulled out of the food shack. The feeling of cold breeze in your face cooled you off a lot more than your hand did. 

After a while the car pulled up to an old two story house, the arch way made out of tree limbs and nails made you question how sturdy that would actually be in a storm. Once the car came to a complete stop everyone piled out, the dirt road beneath you dirtied up the end of your blue jeans. The bottom of your converse’s making little patterns in the grime. 

Micheal, who had decided to ride his bike for the rest of the drive, slowly unstradled the vehicle, his eyes darting around the front yard of the house. Wood carvings of animals and an old trailer was near the back of the yard, the fence that surrounded us was slightly spaced out and cut into sharp ends. 

“This is homey.” You muttered to micheal, the backpack that you carried felt heavy on your back after hours of not wearing it. 

Micheal hummed in agreement, albeit sarcasticly. 

Glancing back at the house itself, you took in the porch, it had one too many rocking chairs and wooden tables for you to count. There were even empty beer bottles rolling across the porch floor. But, you stopped judging the home style around you when you noticed a pair of legs laid out on the ground. 

Taking erie steps, you all cautiously eyed the body. Both fear and concern bubbling deep inside of you. Fear that this would be the first dead body you’ve seen and concern over who will come and clean it. 

Mom walked ahead of you and your brothers, crouching down by the head of the body. “Dad?” She asked, swiping hair out of his face as she did so. “Dad?”

“It looks like he’s dead.” Micheal stated, eyes glancing swiftly from his mom and the supposedly dead body before them. 

Mom shook her head, gently shaking her dad awake. “No, he’s just a heavy sleeper.” 

“Why is he asleep on the porch?” Micheal asked, trying to understand the older man. 

You leaned over Sam’s shoulder, taking in the supposedly dead corpse in front of you. “Is the heat from the sun gonna make his body decay faster?” You pondered out loud, ignoring the glare your mom gave you. 

“Yeah. And if he’s dead can we move back to Phoenix?” Sam added on for you, receiving the same look your mom just gave you. 

“The both of you be quiet.” She scolded. 

Suddenly grandpas head popped up, his eyes half lidded as he held a smug smirk. “Playin’ dead. And, from what I heard doing a damn good job of it, too.”

You watched as mom playfully swatted at her dad, before leaning down and giving him a good hug. Sharing a quick glance at your brothers, they both held the same expression that you did. Confused and slightly baffled at how the old man acts. 

The inside of the house looked just like the cabins from Friday the thirteenth. The floor was wood, the stairs were wood, an even the walls were wood. You honestly wouldn’t be surprised if the refrigerator and sink were made out it, too.

You walked through the house with a cardboard box labeled kitchen, both Sam and Micheal right behind you. Though Micheal was carrying a barbell with a couple of weights and shirts on it, and Sam had a bowl on his head with tied up comics ontop. 

“This place is straight out of a horror movie.” Sam whined, as they reached the kitchen. “I wouldn’t be surprised if their are dead body’s buried somewhere.”

“It’s not that bad.” you tried to reason, placing the box onto the counter and cutting through the tape. 

Sam stared at you bewildered, “Not that bad? Not that bad!” He started to raise his voice, setting down the comics and bowl beside you as he continued. “There’s no TV. Have you seen a TV? I haven’t seen a TV.”

You shrugged your shoulders, taking a couple porcelain plates from the box and setting them in a cabinet. “Use your imagination.”

“Imagination?” The boy raised his voice a little bit higher. “You know who else used there imagination? The Torrence family, and they ended up trying to kill each other.”

“Ok, one this is not The Shinning. And, two, you kill me I’ll haunt you for the rest of your life.” 

Micheal chuckled at yours and Sam’s conversation, “Oh, you think this is funny Micheal?” Sam asked the irritation of no TV or even MTV was starting to get to him. 

“A little.” He told his brother, placing the barbell down and walking back towards the car. “But, we’re flat broke, Sammy. Can’t afford a new TV for this joke of a place.”

You walked back and forth from the car, box after box, cutting open and placing your stuff with Grandpas. It was tiring, but, you wanted to get it done now so that you could go to the boardwalk tonight. 

Though your brothers on the other hand, weren’t as helpful as you were trying to be. 

Sam ran through the living room, swaying between the boxes that littered the ground as he sprinted away from Micheal. The said older boy was running down the stairs, he hoped over the railing near the bottom and took off after Sam. 

You were pulling out a vase from a box, tearing off the bubble wrap and placing it perfectly on the table. You took a small step back and eyed the spot, debating if you should move it one way or another for it to look right. 

But, as you stepped back, you acidently stood right infront of Micheal’s path. He collided with your side, sending you both tumbling to the ground. “Dammit, Micheal!” You shouted, quickly getting up just as your brother did. Continuing with his chase after Sam, you immediately ran after him. 

“Hey, guys, no running in the house.” Mom called out to the three of you, though no one paid her any mind as you all just continued to chase one another. 

Sam stopped before two sliding doors, shoving each of them open. You and Micheal caught up with your brother, you about ready to shove Micheal for knocking you to the ground, when you saw what laid behind the double doors. 

Taxidermy animals laid on the table in front of you, some were even hung up to the ceiling because there was no more room on the surface. The three of you stood shocked at the room, you more disturbed that so many dead animals were cut open like they currently were. 

“I think we found the dead bodies, Sam.” You told him, referring to your earlier talk about grandpa hiding dead corpses. 

Sam let out a snort, eyeing the room with interest. Micheal leaned up against your side, his elbow coming up to rest on your shoulder. Even at pratically the same height he liked to remind you which of the two was the tallest. 

“Talk about Texas chainsaw massacre.” 

“Rules.” A voice suddenly called out, bringing each of your attention to grandpa who had a cardboard box in hand. “We got some rules around here.”

He gestured with his hand to follow, which you all did begrudgingly. The old man led you to the refrigerator, and upon opening it you saw a sign that read, ‘Old fart’. You hid your amused smile behind your hand as Grandpa began to explain the rules. 

“The second shelf is mine.” He stated matter of factly, easing the sign to show a couple of beer bottles and a box of Oreos hidden behind it. He waved a finger at all three of you, “Don’t nobody touch the second shelf, ya’ hear.”

You nodded along with your brothers, grandpa then waddled out of the kitchen leaving you to trail behind him. You watched discustedly as Micheal began to shove his finger in Sam’s ear, the younger boy trying to push him away when Micheal wrapped an arm around the poor boys neck. 

Clearing his throat, Micheal directed his attention back at grandpa. “Hey, grandpa? Is it true that Santa Carla is the murder capital of the world?” He asked, refusing to let Sam go from his grasp. 

Murder capital of the world. 

Those were the exact words you’d read off the back of the billboard. You hadn’t known that Micheal had read that aswell, although he appears to be taking the towns chosen nickname more jokingly than you had. 

Grandpa slowly turned back around to face the three of you, his eyes darting across each face. “There are some bad elements around here.” He told you, though his voice seemed to be a lot more serious than anything. 

Sam finally shoves Micheal off of him, “Woah, wait a minute. You mean to tell me that we moved to the murder capital of the world?” He asked, getting close to the old man’s face. “Are you serious grandpa?”

You watched as grandpa took his time with his next words of choice. “Well- let me put it this way; if all the corpses buried around here were to stand up at once, we’d have a serious population problem.”

That did about anything but soothe your racing mind. Are we gonna get killed here? Are you actually going to go missing and nobody would care? Could Sam, Micheal or even mom turn up dead one day?

Your thoughts immediately went back to the missing posters, all the untraced people that had disappeared off the face of the earth. And not one of them had been found. You don’t think your gonna like it here all that much, you concluded. 

Mom suddenly sauntered in the living room, a stack of hats resting ontop of her head. “Oh, Dad. You’re gonna give them nightmares.” She told him, not wanting to deal with three teenagers wandering into her room at night complaining about what grandpa had told them. 

Grandpa waved his hand, dismissing her accusation. Changjng the conversation, he picked up a TV guide that sat on the end table, waving back to you and your brothers he began to explain another rule of his. 

“Now, when the mailman brings the TV guide on wensdays, sometimes the corner of the address label will curl up.” He pointed to the address label on the guide, the corner slowly thrusting itself up towards the ceiling. “You’ll be tempted to peel it off. Don’t. You’ll end up ripping the cover, and I don’t like that

He tossed the TV guide back on a different table, making his way back to the taxidermy room. He yanked the sliding doors together and they closed with a great, smack. “And stay out of here.”

Grandpa then walked away, though not before Sam stood in his pathway, excitement rising in his chest. “There’s a TV?” He asked, slightly crossing his fingers for the man to say yes. 

“No. I just like to read the TV guide. Read the guide and you don’t need the Tv.” He then walked away, leaving Sam with a disappointed look. 

“See,” you told him, walking towards a couple of boxes that were laid about the living room floor. “Now, you get to use you imagination.”

Sam pointed a finger at you, “When we go crazy, here- and we will, you’ll be the first that I kill.”

You pushed Sam out of your way with your shoulder, balancing the box on your hip. “Then be prepared for me to haunt you until the end of times, Samuel Emerson.”

A/a/n: Hello and thank you for reading the first chapter :) Now we won’t meet the boys until the next chapter, but I am debating if I should just make that chapter about you meeting them or add on. I still haven’t decided. But thank you again and the next chapter will be done as quickly as possible ;)

[skzdarlings]

vexatious vixen ; felix x reader ; part 1/2

masterlist.

PART 1/2. READ PART 1 HERE. ( READ ON AO3. )

You always get what you want. When an unassuming security guard named Felix stops your latest venture, you escalate the stakes until he has no choice but to put you in your place.

pairing: lee felix/reader content info: romantic comedy. strangers to enemies to lovers. handcuffs. cat-and-mouse. eventual smut will be kinky dom/sub dynamics, dom!felix and sub!reader. (chapter word count: 7400 words.)

-

Seungmin is one of your best friends and also a conniving master of manipulation.  Being a malevolent source of wicked verbal wizardry, he convinced you and Minho that it would be totally super easy to sneak into the Hwang Hyunjin concert.  It’s only the final night of the pop-star’s sold-out world tour and the most anticipated concert of the year.  What could go wrong?  

It sounded like a good idea when Seungmin said it.  Now the three of you are standing in a pushy crowd of overeager fans with some very intimidating looking security guards at the end of the queue. 

“Reconvene,” you say.  You grab the boys by their scruff and drag them out of the line. 

“Ah, hey!” Minho snaps at you like piranha.

You release him to grab Seungmin by his collar.  “You better have an idea for getting us past security,” you say, “because I do not like the look of the Incredible Hulk up there.”

The three of you look at the shortstack beefcake who looks like he could bench all three of you at the same time. 

“Yeaaaah,” Seungmin says.  He flashes you a not-so-innocent smile as his strawberry-pink bangs flop into his eyes.  “I didn’t really think this far ahead.  I thought you’d have a plan.”

“Why would I have a plan?” you ask.  “This whole thing was your idea.  Seungmin.”  You drag him close so your noses touch, going cross-eyed at the proximity.  It does not lessen the severity of your frustration when you state, “I waxed for this.  And you know how I feel about waxing.” 

“You waxed?” Minho asks loudly.  It draws a few glances your way which might be because Minho is so loud, or might be because he’s so good looking, or a combination of the two.  His dark eyes narrow at you like you’re a completely alien creature.   “Why would you wax for a concert?” he asks. 

“Wax,” Seungmin parrots.  Your hands are on his collar like you intend to shake him up but it doesn’t deter him asking, “Like… like wax-wax?  Like your human body waxed?”

“Like your human pussy?” Minho asks.  “For a concert?  What did you think was gonna happen?”  He is on the very visible verge of hysterical laughter when a thought lights his eyes.  “Wait,” he says.  “I know how we can get in—”

“Oh my god,” you say.  You shove Seungmin and grab Minho by the collar instead.  “I’m not fucking our way in.  And I waxed,” you drop your voice, “just in case.”

“Just in case…?” Minho tips his head.  “Just in case you had to fuck your way in…?”

“Oh my god,” you say.  You push him away too.  “Never mind.”

“Did you think Hyunjin was going to summon you out of the crowd for a green room quickie?”  Seungmin asks with a shit-eating grin. 

Minho cackles.  “No way she’d even go,” he says.  “She doesn’t get summoned.  She likes to be chased.” 

“She is walking away now,” you say.    

“Bet she’ll walk away quickly,” Seungmin says.  “She waxed so she’ll be aerodynamic.”

You stomp away from the stadium but only make it a few steps before Seungmin runs in front of you. 

“We can’t just give up here,” Seungmin says.  “We made it this far already.”

“One bus stop?” you ask dryly.  “We literally live like five minutes away—”

“Exactly!” Seungmin says.  “That’s called destiny.”

“We might as well try,” Minho says.  He cups a hand over his eyes to look at the stadium in the fading light of the sun.  “We all got dressed up.  Seungmin skipped a class.  You waxed.” 

“There’s no way we’re getting through those doors,” you say. 

“We’ve done it before,” Seungmin says.  He turns you to face the stadium and massages your shoulders like a boxing coach, all the while regaling you with tales of your past victories.  “Remember all the other concerts we snuck into?  The sports games?  That celebrity wedding—”   

“Well,” Minho interrupts, “we did get arrested at that one.” 

“Yeah and we got arrested together,” Seungmin says, “because that’s what friends do.” 

“I don’t know why,” you say, “but for some reason this is working.”  Maybe it’s Seungmin’s words, or Minho’s cologne, or maybe it’s the soft glow of a perfect summer sunset as it pours over the stadium like a pink-orange waterfall.  Or maybe it’s because this really is the concert of the year, and you love a challenge, and you fucking waxed. 

You throw your head back and sigh, soulfully resigning yourself to your imminent fate.

“Fine,” you say.  “So how are we doing this?”   

“Don’t worry,” Seungmin says thoughtfully.  “I think I have a plan.”

Seungmin proceeds to explain the plan.  It is hardly the pinnacle of heist endeavours but is more feasible than rappelling down the stadium walls into the concert arena.

Basically, the plan is to find a group of people with a solitary ticket holder and leech onto their tail with the hopes security will miscount the party and let you sneak past.  It means you will have to split up because security will definitely notice three extra people.  You will then hopefully reunite inside the arena.

You scamper around the periphery of the stadium, perusing lines for oblivious groups of excited fans with an e-ticket-wielding ringleader.  You also double-check which security guards seem the most lax or checked out. 

“I get that one,” Minho says. 

He points to a trim, athletic guard with floppy brown hair and a giggly smile.  You and Seungmin protest because that guard is an easy mark so you all want him, but Minho takes off running for the queue. 

The thing about Lee Minho is that he never hauls ass.  He coasts through life with a casual slouch, but he is completely capable of annihilating everyone if he deigns to do so. 

He does.  So he did.

You and Seungmin look around.  Your grin widens when you spy the next easiest target.

“Aha!” you say.  “I call dibs on that one!  Good luck, Seungmin!”

“Hey!” Seungmin bellows.

He is far too late.  You are already booking it towards the line with a pretty, chipper, skinny security guard.  He is in jeans and a loose windbreaker that says SECURITY across the back, about the only indication he is a man of any authority.  His hair is a vibrant, neon blue and is delicately styled, long enough to pull back in a pretty half-ponytail.  His features are sharp, cheekbones sloping, but there is a natural tenderness to his whole countenance.  He doesn’t have a mean bone in his body. 

Also, he really is lean.  Worst case scenario, you can probably push your way past him and disappear into the crowd before he can do anything about it.  

You find a group of girls to sidle alongside anyway.  You are satisfied you will easily slip into the stadium. 

The group reaches the front of the line, a couple of them giggling at the security guard’s friendly attention.  His name tag reads Felix, a cute name for a cute guy.  Up close, you can see a smattering of dark freckles across his face, as well as a few playful glitter stars for the concert.  He is admittedly pretty but as a professional gate crasher, you refrain from distraction.  You successfully avoid his gaze and stick close to the girl in front of you. 

Felix gives them each a friendly nod, smiling brightly.  He laughs at one of their comments and it’s a charming, low sound. 

“Enjoy the show, ladies,” he says, his voice about a hundred decibels deeper than you expected.  

Maybe that’s what trips you up.  It has to be something, because you were doing everything right.  But just as you go to follow the girls into the arena, a skinny arm shoots out and you smack right into it.   

“Sorry,” Felix says.  He drops his arm and smiles.  “I just need to see your ticket.” 

“My…?”  You look ahead at the group of girls, but they are already gone.  Oops.  “Ha, ha,” you say, looking at Felix. 

He is staring back at you, still smiling a close-lipped smile.  He blinks a couple times then lifts an eyebrow.

“Uh, ticket?” he says.  He holds out his hand.  

“Right,” you say.  You smile at him with all the saccharine sweetness you can.  “I have funny story about that, Felix,” you say. 

“Hm.”  His smile turns into a line, eyes narrowing as he looks at you.  “And what’s that?” 

“Well, you see…”

It’s all you say before you bolt, fast on your feet.  You sprint for the entryway behind the guarded queue.  There’s a crowd inside and you’re an expert at disappearing into a crowd.  You just need to get in there and find your boys then you are home free.  Hwang Hyunjin, here you come. 

There’s just one problem.  

Felix is fast.  

Like, track star fast.  Like, road runner fast.  Like, you’re that dumb coyote getting an anvil dropped on your head, except this anvil is a skinny blue-haired Australian with a voice like a god and the apparent hidden strength of one too. 

You make it a few desperate steps before Felix literally sweeps you off your feet.  You shriek when he hauls you under his arm, dragging you away from the stadium door.  He deposits you a few feet from the queue then swiftly resumes his position. 

“Hello,” he says to the next person in line.  “Sorry about that.  Ticket?”   

Your mouth is agape.  

No one has ever got the jump on you like that.

“Hey!” you say, but Felix has moved on.  He is smiling at the next guest as he checks their ticket, not paying you any mind.  “Excuse me,” you say, despite the people between you and him.  “I think there’s been a misunderstanding.  I do have a ticket.”

“Uh-huh,” Felix says.  He doesn’t look at you, scanning someone’s e-ticket with a little device.  It lights up green and he smiles at them.  “Enjoy the show,” he says. 

You jump into the queue, cutting off the next person.  Felix’s smile vanishes and is replaced with an astoundingly sassy expression.

“Uh, this line is for ticket-holders,” he says. 

“I have a ticket,” you say.  You unzip your purse and spend a minute rifling around, ignoring him when he sighs.  He apologizes to the people behind you.  You turn and offer a tight-lipped apology of your own.  “I was in line,” you say, as if they didn’t just witness this ten-pound bully haul you around like a sack of potatoes.  “There was just a misunderstanding.”

Felix rolls his eyes. 

You pull out your cell phone and flip through a folder of fake screenshotted tickets, hoping at least one of them marginally resembles the tickets for tonight.  You pick one and flash it at Felix. 

“Happy?” you say with a lot of false indignation.  You turn off the screen when Felix goes to grab your phone.  You give him a snooty, squinty-eyed look, then saunter right past him. 

This time when he comes after you, you are better prepared for his speed.   You zig-zag and he stumbles, cussing very unprofessionally.  You make it all the way to the door before he grabs you.  You have no idea where he is getting all that muscle because he feels like a sturdy stick when you grab at him, but he puts you over his shoulder like it’s easy. 

“Um, excuse me!” you shout.  “Hello!  Someone film this!  I’m being assailed!”

Felix intentionally jostles you on his shoulder.  He is even less gentle when he drops you this time, though you do manage to keep your footing. 

“Try that again,” Felix says, “and it will be trouble.  Got it?” 

Felix is very good looking.  He’s an incredible combination of pretty and handsome, not to mention that voice, guh.  But what gets you going is how much you are clearly pissing him off.  It’s hot.  Out of nowhere, the freckled sunshine sweetheart is just oozing confidence, standing square and pointing at you with a very stern expression.  And if you get a little hiccup in your blood, a little skip in your heartbeat, a little stampede southward that makes your pussy hum like the interested kitten it is, well.  That’s not your fault.  It’s his.  Asshole.

You flip him off.  He ignores you, shaking his head as he returns to his position.

“Sorry,” he says to the queue.  “Some people are so inconsiderate, aren’t they?”

Ugh. What a sexy bitch. 

You text to check in with the boys.  Minho made it inside, no surprise, but apparently Seungmin is also struggling for an in. 

what is with these security guards, Seungmin writes, are they military trained? fuck 

maybe you’re both just losing your touch, Minho replies.

never, you say.  we still have lots of time.  we'll get in there.  seungmin, meet me by the benches.  we need another plan.  

Usually, the best way to crash an event is with minimal attention and no theatrics.  It’s all about pretending you are exactly where you are supposed to be.  If you act like you belong, then you will.  

A spectacle is a desperate measure, but you are desperate people.  After a few hushed whispers on a bench, you and Seungmin spring into action. 

“Help!”  Seungmin shouts.  “My wife needs help!  Please!” 

“Your wife?” you whisper through gritted teeth, opening one eye to look at him.  You are currently laying on the pavement in a dramatic swoon, Seungmin hunched over you. 

“My companion of ambiguous relationship is hurt!” he says.  “Ouch,” he adds, because you swat his arm.

Fortunately, he does draw attention.  A few people run over, the beefy security guard one of them.  His nametag reads Changbin and he is in a black t-shirt at least two sizes too small.  You do not begrudge him this, as you would do the same if you had biceps like that.  

“What happened?” he asks, crouching down beside Seungmin. 

“My friend just passed out,” Seungmin says.  He hoists you into his arms as your tongue lolls out of your mouth.  “Is there somewhere inside I can take her to sit down?  I think all the chaos out here overstimulated her.” 

“One second,” Changbin says.  He pulls a walkie-talkie out of a holster.  It buzzes with static as he turns it on.  “Hey, we have a collapsed woman in front of Entry Door B.  Can I have back-up clear a path, and someone with First Aid training?”  The walkie-talkie buzzes again and Changbin puts it away.  He stands up, waving away the small crowd that has gathered.   “Yah, everyone back up!  This is an emergency!” 

“It’s really not,” Seungmin says.  He scoops you into a bridal hold then struggles to lift you off the ground. “I just need – whew – somewhere I can – agh – put her down.  I can just – AH! – carry her myself.”

Naturally, it is at that moment a familiar voice descends from above. 

A familiar, deep, Australian-accented voice.

“Move aside, please.”  

“Oh no,” you say, eyes closed.   You open them just in time for a glitter-faced, freckled, blue-haired pretty boy in a SECURITY windbreaker to cut through the crowd.   

Unfortunately, Felix is just as good looking at this angle.  He waves away the gathered onlookers as he approaches, but looks at Changbin first. 

“I have First Aid,” he says.  “What happened?”

“I just found her collapsed,” Changbin says.  “Her friend thinks it’s the crowd.  Should we bring her inside?” 

Felix looks at you.  The concerned furrow in his brow immediately gives way. 

You smile innocently. 

“No,” Felix says, frowning.  “We shouldn’t.” 

“Oh come on,” you say.  You smack the ground.  “I collapsed!  I need help!”

“No, you need a ticket,” Felix says.  He crosses his arms and stomps a foot.  “Seriously, what is wrong with you?  Some of us have a job to do, you know?”

“Naaaur ya need a ticket, mate,” you say in a mockingly deep chest voice. “Some of us have jobs ya knaaaaur!”

“Do you guys know each other?” Changbin asks, looking between you and Felix – who is growing increasingly red in the face and breathing much harder. 

“I have no idea who this guy is,” Seungmin says. 

“Ah!”  Felix yells, spinning to Changbin.  “She doesn’t have a ticket!  She’s just trying to sneak in!”

“She doesn’t have a ticket?”  Seungmin asks, gasping.  He drops you onto the concrete, ignoring your yelp of pain.   “But I thought she – she told me we – I – I –“

You watch in betrayed horror as Seungmin pretends to faint, flopping down beside you on the concrete.  You sit up, very tempted to slap him across the face but not wanting to give Felix more reasons to accost you. 

“Seungmin,” you say.  You grab him by the shirt and rattle him around like a ragdoll.  “Seungmin, you bastard, don’t even think about it!”

“You.”  Felix stomps up behind you.  “Get off the ground and come with me.” 

“No,” you say.  “I don’t want to and you can’t make me.” 

You shriek – again – when Felix grabs you under the arms and hoists you to your feet.  He manhandles you with only a modicum of effort, dragging you away from your stupid traitorous best friend. 

You step on Felix’s foot deliberately and he swears.  For such a pretty thing, he sure has a filthy mouth.  You grab a fistful of his hair and tug, to which he cusses up a storm and pries your hand off his head.   

You hear the distinct buzz of Changbin’s walkie-talkie.    

“We have a collapsed man in front of Entry Door B.  Can someone who isn’t going to start fighting the patrons come help me move him?”

“He’s faking it!” you cry in protest, watching Changbin scoop Seungmin off the ground. 

Changbin disregards your outburst.  Seungmin gives you a thumbs up behind his back.  Felix, of course, doesn’t see it because he’s too busy dragging you away.  You are left to sputter in bewildered protest at the injustice of it all. 

Felix marches you to the sidewalk, far away from the stadium queues.  You are both out of breath by the time you get there.  Even so, you attempt to manoeuvre under his arm to run away.   In a few quick moves, he knocks you onto your ass. 

 “Holy fuck!”  You are panting now.  A line of sweat dots your hairline.  You wipe at it and stare morosely at this stupidly competent minimum wage security guard.  “What are you, like some kind of karate master or something?”

“Taekwondo, actually,” he says, brushing off his jacket.  Then he tips his head and stares down at you.

You would be lying if you said the intensity of his stare didn’t have your heart racing for an entirely new reason.  Danger and desire have always danced a close dance for your tastes.  Felix is not helping matters, tucking back loose strands of vibrant hair as he looms over you, wetting his bottom lip and staring. 

You cross your arms and feign nonchalance, but you can’t look away from him.  When he crouches down slowly to meet you at eye level, everything below the belt goes pitter-patter. 

“No ticket,” Felix says slowly.  “No concert.  Do you understand me?” 

You stick out your tongue.

“Wow, mature,” he says.  His departing farewell is another snarky eyeroll.  He shakes his head as he stands, muttering to himself in obvious frustration. 

So much for not a mean bone in his body.  That bully is all business.   

So hot. 

You huff and puff for a bit.  Your phone is going berserk in your purse, probably the boys trying to reach you.  Eventually you succumb to the necessary confession of your twice thwarted efforts.  Minho teases that you are losing your touch for real.  It makes angry little fireworks pop out of your ears.  

Plenty of occasions you have assessed a situation and deemed it unreasonably complicated, but quitting while you’re ahead is not the same thing as admitting defeat.  You do not lose.  This isn’t even about the concert anymore.  Fuck Hwang Hyunjin, he was never worth the pain of a wax in the first place.  No.  This is about your pride.   This is about your dignity.  This is about your honour. 

You are getting into that concert, one way or another.   

First, you gather intel.  This comes in the form of snooping, running between queues to figure out the easiest mark.  You don’t judge the guards by their appearances this time, because apparently this security team has secret taekwondo masters hidden in their midst. 

You watch their every move, calculating and determining your odds therein.  Based on visual research and Minho’s confirmation, it seems your best bet is the smiling guard who let Minho through.  His nametag reads Jisung and he is a veritable flirt. 

Flash him your tits, Minho texts.

Uh, no, I’m not that desperate yet.       

Second, with your intel now acquired, you get into the dwindling line.  The sun is almost set and a breezy summer chill dances across your cheeks.  The concert will be starting soon.  You shuffle behind the other stragglers, adjusting your outfit.  The jean shorts hug your hips and flash a nice chunk of thigh, and your shirt is already low cut but you figure another tug won’t hurt.  You also pull your flannel down your arms to look as flirtatious as possible. 

Jisung is barely looking at the tickets as he scans them, chatting merrily to the guests as he lets them through.  You pull up a random ticket on your phone, something to hold out while you distract him. 

“Hi,” you say. 

His eyes flick down to your chest, then back up.  He smiles brightly.

“Hi!” he says.  “You look nice.  Excited for the concert?”

“Oh, absolutely,” you say.  “You have no idea how much I’ve been waiting for this.  It wasn’t easy to get in.”

“I know what you mean,” he says.  “Tickets are hard to come by, and so expensive!”

“Ugh, tell me about it,” you say, leaning in while he scans your phone.   This was a bad idea because he looks down at your chest again, just in time for his little device to flash red.

“Oh, oops!” he says.  He smiles at you as he shakes his device.  “Sorry!” he says.  “I think you showed me the wrong ticket.  Could you pull up the right one?”

“Ohhh!” you say, looking down at your phone with fake surprise.  Life is so unfair.  “I’m so sorry… Jisung.  Hehe, that’s such a nice name.”

“Haha, thanks,” Jisung says.  “My parents picked it, but, yeah, it’s cool.  Anyway.”  He wiggles his device.  “Ticket please!” 

You keep smiling and giggling, even as you turn around under the guise of searching through your phone.  You glare down at the stupid device, keeping your back to Jisung while you do so.  How the fuck are you getting out of this?  You flip through screenshots then open your text messenger.  Minho’s last words of wisdom blink up at you. 

Apparently, you are that desperate. 

With a sigh, you put your phone in your purse and zip it shut.  You shrug your shoulders and plaster that fake smile on your face again.  With a swift of flick of your thumbs, you lift your shirt and bra up over your tits and spin around to look at Jisung. 

“How’s this for a ticket—”

Jisung looks surprised and delighted.  Jisung, however, is standing a few feet back.  Probably because he was told to step back.  Probably by Felix who is standing in front of you with his arms crossed and an unimpressed look on his face.  

“Wow,” Felix says.  “Just committing crimes now, are we?”  

You shove your tits back into your bra indignity, not even embarrassed, just annoyed. 

“Tits aren’t a crime,” you say. 

“Public indecency is,” he replies.  

“You’re… publicly indecent…”  Not your best comeback.  You glare at him while fixing your shirt.  “There’s no way they pay you enough to be riding my ass this hard.” 

“They don’t,” Felix says, grabbing your arm.  “Believe me when I say riding your ass has been my pleasure.”

“Twisted fuck,” you reply. 

You wave at Jisung as Felix tugs you away.  He waves back but does nothing to rescue you, because all men are traitors. 

You groan loudly as Felix leads you away from the stadium yet again.  “Just let me innnnn,” you whine.  “Why do you hate meee.”

“I don’t even know you!” Felix says.  He deposits you on a bench and takes out his phone.

“What are you doing?” you ask, eying the device.

“What do you think I’m doing?” he asks.  “You tried to break into a ticketed event three times.  You faked an injury.  You flashed yourself in a public place—”

“I wouldn’t have done any of that if you just let me through in the first place!”

“You cannot be serious.”  Felix looks ready to rip his hair out.  “You don’t have a ticket!  Why would I let you in, why would I – AH!  Why am I arguing with you!  Be quiet, I’m phoning the police.”

“The po— the police?!  How dare you!” You try to stand but he pushes you onto the bench one-handed.  He holds you there, palm on your shoulder, still way stronger than someone this scrawny should be. 

“Fine!” you exclaim.  “Fine!  You win!  I’m sorry, Felix, I was wrong.  I was wrong and you were right.”

Felix pauses.  “Really,” he says, sounding unconvinced. 

“Yes!”  You look up at him with the saddest, most watery eyes you can muster.  “I just wanted to see the concert but it was stupid to think I could break in.” 

He turns off his screen.  Success.   You watch him slip his phone in his pocket. 

“It’s not about being smart or stupid,” he says, the ire gone from his voice.  It takes a lot of willpower not to bite his fingers when he pats your shoulder.  “It’s about the fact we can’t always get what we want,” he says kindly as he crouches in front of you.  His hand goes from your shoulder to your knee, still patting it in a friendly manner. 

You bite your tongue because you want to tell him you liked him better when he was being a mean bitch, but that would be counterproductive to your escape attempt. 

It turns out, you don’t need to say anything, because he decides to be a bitch again anyway.  Felix looks at you with a too-sweet smile and says, “It’s about time someone taught you that lesson.”

“Um, excuse me?” you say, aghast.  You clasp your hand over your heart.  “Just who do you think you are?  First of all, you taught me nothing, I’m still a horrible bitch and I lied when I said you were right.  Second, you absolutely can get everything you want, you just have to want it enough to get it.  But you wouldn’t know anything about that.  You know why, Felix?” 

He rolls his eyes and shakes his head like he expected this, which he probably did, but you’re too far gone to retreat. 

You reach out and cup his face in both hands, turning it to you.  Those sharp eyes are unflinching, even with your fingers on his face.  You try really hard not to gulp. 

“It’s because you are a good boy,” you say.  “You always do what you’re told.  You always follow the rules.  I bet everyone thinks you’re the nicest guy on the team, don’t they?  I bet they call you cute little nicknames and all the nice little girls think you’re a sweet, innocent baby.  And you are, aren’t you, Felix?  You’re just such a good, good boy.  But me?  I’m not good.  I’m not bad.  I just like to win.  When I want something, I get it, because I chase it, and I don’t stop until I get it.  Until it’s all mine.”  You lean in close.  “Get it?” 

His gaze darkens, brows pinching.  You take his fleeting moment of vulnerability to shove him onto his back.  He sprawls on the ground with a surprised yelp.  You sprint away at top speed and flip him off over your shoulder. 

It’s a haphazard ploy at best but you are fresh out of plans.  What you need is distance between you and Security Guard of the Year, a breather long enough to come up with a final plan.  Maybe you can physically break in somewhere: an office window, a janitorial stairwell, something.  

You keep an eye out for potential openings as you run. 

And run.

And run. 

Hmm.  You’ve been running a long time.   Even with the head-start, Felix should have caught you by now.  You doubt he would have truly given up.  Felix had a deranged look in his eye, similar to the one you get when someone is trying to beat you at your own game.  He doesn’t want you to win anymore than you want to lose.  You suspect it isn’t about the concert for him either; this is a personal battle. 

You come to a gradual stop, hands on your hips as you catch your breath.  It’s quiet on this side of the stadium as the queues were on the opposite end. 

Quiet, yes.  Too quiet.   

There’s a stairwell that leads to second level just above your head.  Felix is good.  You have to give credit where credit is due.  If you weren’t a scheming nightmare with a penchant for con-artistry, he probably would have caught you.  But without turning around, you know he booked it up the stairs and is two seconds from springing an attack. 

You take off running, just in time for him to thump into the grass beside you.  You laugh at his strangled cry of frustration as he scrambles to his feet. 

Around the next corner is the parking lot.  You stop a split second to look over your shoulder and see him hot on your heels.   He discarded his jacket and is in a loose sleeveless shirt, revealing he does have some light toning to his lean body.  But you don’t stop to measure how proportionate it is to his strength, because he is focussed on you like a laser. 

Then he smiles.  A slow, slinky smile like a cocky predator about to swipe at its prey.  That cat has claws, nasty ones, and you almost want to get tangled in them.  Almost.  You want to win even more.   

And he just set you up for success.  There’s a SECURITY jacket on the ground somewhere nearby.  That’s your ticket in.  You just have to lose Felix in the parking lot and loop back around to find where he tossed it. 

You spare no time setting that plan into action, giving Felix a smile of your own before you run.  He thunders after you.

The pair of you weave in and out of parked cars.  He disappears for a second behind a row of trucks.  You whip your head around to figure out where he went, only for him to summersault around the corner and cut you off.  You yell instinctively but narrowly dodge his reaching hand.   He curses, running after you with his arm outstretched.   You duck behind a trailer and lose him, scurrying between some SUVs.  You peek at him through the windows, watching him turn in a circle to find where you went.  Smiling to yourself, you quietly but quickly back away.  

You leave the lot and run back the way you first came.  You find Felix’s jacket draped on a random bush. 

Your heart is practically singing with adrenaline.  Victory is in sight.  You push yourself to run faster and reach out with both hands –

— only to find yourself rolling in the grass, Felix’s arms tight around your middle as he tackles you to the ground. 

You push and pull at each other, cursing and scrambling very ungracefully.  You get out of his arms but he climbs on top of you, then you knee him in the gut so he rolls over, but when you start crawling he grabs your ankles and drags you back. 

Ultimately, he Taekwondo Masters you onto your front, hands clasped behind your back.  You kick your feet and wail despondently into the grass as he kneels over you, breathing raggedly and swearing again. 

“You’re a monster!” you shout.  “You’re a tyrant and a bully and you have no right to – HEY!”

He handcuffs you.

“Ha.”  He leans in close, speaking right into your ear.  “I win.” 

“That’s not fair,” you say.  “You can’t just—ahh!”  You wail in petulance as he lifts you onto your feet.  His grip on your bicep is unyielding so you are forced to stomp alongside him as he escorts you…

…back to the sidewalk.

“You’re not busting me?” you ask in confusion.  You thought for sure he was going to drag you into some shady office and plop you in a chair until the police arrived.   He would probably be super boring and professional about it, staring at you with his dumb horny eyes but not doing anything about it.  Nothing sucks more than being all trussed up by a pretty boy with manners. 

“I just want you to go and never come back,” Felix says. 

“Fine.”  You turn around and hold your arms straight behind you.  “But I’m like a wolf, Felix.  I have your scent for life.”

“Yeah, sure,” he says.  “Not how wolves work by the way.  But fine.”

“Oh wow, sorry.  Didn’t realize you majored in Wolfology.  You got any other fun facts?”  

“You are so—”

You smirk at his grumbling.  You are just biding your time until he uncuffs one wrist, then you whip around faster than he can compute the action.  With one cuff still attached, you grab the second and clamp it down on his wrist.  He sputters in bewilderment, at which point you snatch the keys.

“What are you doing—”  He tries to grab them but your joined hands make the angle too awkward.  You spin around together in a few circles, bonk heads twice, until finally you reel back and chuck the keys as far into the distance as possible. 

He stands there, mouth agape.  You tap your foot impatiently. 

When he realizes what has happened – that you have handcuffed yourself to him and thrown away the keys – he looks at you with fiery eyes, fierce enough you stumble.  He yanks your joined hands, the chain ungiving.  You watch as he goes through several stages of grief in a matter of moments.  Then he closes his eyes and breathes in and out.    

“Why,” he says slowly, “did you just do that?” 

“I dunno, Felix,” you say.  You plop down on the ground and sit cross-legged.  It forces him to bend over, your cuffed wrist dragging him down.  “Guess we’ll have to go inside and get some back-up keys.  And when I’m in the stadium and you uncuff yourself from me, I promise not to run away.”   

“That’s your plan?” he snaps.  “That’s your plan?” 

“What, is there an echo out here?”

“That’s your plan?” he asks again, his deep voice pitching up an octave.  He crouches down and shoves his free hand into his hair, shaking his head.  “This can’t be happening,” Felix says, more out loud to himself than you.  “Why is this happening.  Oh my god.” 

You squeak when he tugs on the chain, yanking you close, nose to nose.

“What if I just called for back-up?” he asks. “Or skipped that and went right to the police?  How would you get out of that?”

“Wait,” you say.  “Why aren’t you doing that?” 

“Because.”

He leans back as far as he can, sitting on his heels.  You duck your head, trying to meet his eye to no avail.  He clenches his jaw.

“Felix,” you say.  “Why aren’t you just calling for back-up?”

“Because,” he says through gritted teeth.  “The handcuffs.  Are.  Not.  Regulation.” 

You look at each other.  There is a long moment of silence. 

Then, “What!”  You cackle with complete and utter abandon. 

A very unamused Felix glares at you while you throw your head back and laugh. 

“You?” you cry, poking your finger against his chest.  “You?  You?  You are just walking around with a pair of handcuffs that you aren’t supposed to have?  What the fuuuuuck—”  You think you might die laughing. 

“Jisung gave them to me before our shift!” he exclaims.  “It was a joke because— Never mind! I don’t have to explain myself to you!  Hello.  Hello.”  He grabs your chin with his free hand and turns your face roughly to his.   He jingles your joined hands.  “Not regulation,” he says.  “There are no other keys in this building.” 

Silence falls again. 

Then, “Oh.”  You stare at him.  “Shit.” 

A minute later, you and Felix are scuttling around trying to find the key.  You must have a very good arm because it landed near the stadium and disappeared in some bushes.   

You and Felix keep forgetting your wrists are connected, reaching in opposite directions only to snap back together.  You are certain you are going to end the night with a few bumps and bruises. 

The entire time you are searching for the key, Felix is grumbling irritably.  He tears his way through a bush, his deep voice pitching up with a miserable whine when he can’t find it. 

“This is so stupid,” he says.  He throws a stick at the wall.  “I am a good worker.  I never break the rules.  I am not getting in trouble for this. You did this.  You did this to me.” 

On he goes, grumble, grumble, grumble, bitch, bitch, bitch. 

“It’s not like the key disappeared,” you say, pushing some pebbles around.  “It has to be here somewhere.” 

It is starting to get dark, the sky a deep purple.  The stadium lights blare down on you.  Felix uses his phone flashlight to beam extra light at the ground.  The only time he stops grumbling is when the noise in the stadium changes, the concert clearly beginning.  He takes time out of his busy searching schedule to give you a mean smile. 

“When we find those keys,” you say, “I’m handcuffing you to that railing over there and leaving you to freeze to death in your stupid tank top.”

“It’s not a tank top,” he says.  “It’s a t-shirt.  I cut the sleeves off.  And when we find those keys, I’m handcuffing you to that railing over there and phoning the police.”

“Well then,” you say, “may the best key finder in a slutty tank top win.” 

“It’s not a tank top.”   

You continue to search.  It is utterly illogical that the keys would just vanish but the longer it takes, the more concerned you get.   It just doesn’t make sense!  Things don’t just disappear!  The keys landed somewhere over here, so they have to be…

You see it first.  You sit there in a stunned stupor.  You swat at Felix with your cuffed hand.

“What?” he says without looking at you.  You continue to slap him until he forces your hand down, tangling your fingers with his.  “What!” 

You point.  He crowds in behind you to look over your shoulder.  You feel him exhale. 

“Please don’t tell me…”   

You both lean to look down the sewer drain.  He flashes his phone light over it.  Something silver glints back in the darkness. 

“Fuck!” Felix says.  He doesn’t stop there.  What follows is a string of cusses so unbelievably foul and complex that you honestly believe it should quality him for Pulitzer in poetry.  When he has exhausted every expletive in several different languages, he plops down on his ass and stares up at the sky with mute despondency.   

“So what happens now?” you ask.  “Do we fuck?”

“What?”  He looks at you with utter bewilderment.  “What the fuck?  Why would you suggest that?  What would that solve?”

“Nothing,” you say.  “But it would kill the time and couldn’t make things worse.” 

“You are insane,” he says.  “I am handcuffed to an insane person.” 

“Hey, ‘mate’, you were the one with the non-regulation handcuffs in the first place.  I could solve this problem real quick by phoning the authorities myself and saying some crazy guy put me in cuffs.” 

“I dare you,” he says.  “Try.”

“No,” you say.  And not just because you have a record with the police and they would never take your side.  But Felix doesn’t need to know that.  Well, you suspect Felix is smart enough to guess it, but he doesn’t need the confirmation.  “I’d rather make you suffer,” you say instead.  You sit back in an insouciant slouch like the whole circumstance is beneath your attention.  “Figure it out, pretty boy.” 

“Well,” he says, “apparently if you break your wrists then you can force them through the cuffs.”

“Ew!” You push him in the middle of his chest.  He doesn’t fall, but he does glare at you.  “We’re not doing that!  What a stupid plan!  You’ve been guzzling the hair dye fumes, buddy.  Think of a plan that doesn’t involve injury, thank you.” 

“I didn’t want to do this,” Felix says with another put-upon sigh, “but fine.  I have another pair at home so the keys—”

“Wait,” you interrupt.  “I thought someone gave you the cuffs today?  Why do you have another key at home?”

“I have another pair,” he repeats, “of the same handcuffs.”

“You—”

“Already own a pair, yes, move on.”  He aggressively pushes hair out of his eyes.  “He clearly bought it from the same place so my key should work for this one too.”

“So despite your uppity school boy routine, you do own non-regulation handcuffs and not just as a joke.  Wow, Felix.”  You giggle helplessly.  “Be careful or I might start to like you.” 

He is glaring at you, no surprise, but the tips of his ears blush pink. 

“Let’s just go,” Felix says.  “The sooner I get you off, the sooner I can forget about your existence.”

“You can get me off as fast or slow as you like—ahh!” 

Once more, the secret superman is manhandling you onto your feet.  Without pausing for breath, he turns and marches away.  You are forced to stumble behind his swift strides, your hands swinging close enough that your fingertips brush every so often.   

“How do I know you’re not gonna murder me?” you ask.

“You don’t,” he replies.

“How do you know I’m not gonna murder you?” 

“I don’t.”  He sounds more annoyed than afraid.  “But it sounds better than being cuffed to you forever.  I’ll take my chances.  Come on.” 

“Not like I have a choice,” you grumble. 

He comes to an abrupt halt and you crash into him with a sharp exhale.  He grabs your hand and tugs you close. You blink at him with surprise while he tips his head in that studious way.

“You’re right,” he says. “You don’t.  In fact, it’s almost nice, you forced to finally do what I’m asking.  If you’re not careful, it might even make me like you.” 

It is so cold and sarcastic. 

It gets you so hot. 

Seriously, what is with your stupid brain?  How does it cross the wires of fear and desire like that?  Felix is speaking at you with that deep, dark, nasty voice of his and your heart should be skipping beats in concern, not because you think he’s sexy when he’s being a bitch.  

You hide it from him well enough, glaring at him like he glared at you.  He just snorts and shakes his head. 

“What?” you ask. 

“Interesting,” he replies.  “Very interesting.”   

“What?”

“Nothing.”  He smiles politely, for a moment looking like the unassuming pretty boy you thought he was.  He bats his long eyelashes at you, smiles a coy smile, and squeezes your hand.   “Come on,” he says.  “We tried this your way and it got us in trouble.  Time to be a good girl and do it my way.  No, stop, don’t say anything.  Be quiet.  Just walk.  Let’s go.” 

You stumble when he tugs you after him.  Your mouth is hanging open yet again.   

You are proud to say that in your many years of bad girl shenanigans, you have never truly met your match.  You’ve played pretend a few times, let a couple losers think they won, if only because you liked the game of it.  But no one has ever really taken control.  No one has ever really beat you.  No one has ever come close. 

No one.  Until today. 

You glare at the back of Felix’s head, brain stampeding as fast as your heart.   Because finally, you’ve found him, your perfect match.  Lashed to you through the metal manifestation of fate’s red string. 

You didn’t know what game you were playing before, but now you do.

And you’re going to win.  

[raysrays]

Fatal Attraction Chapter Five (NSFW)

18+ MDNI‼️

*i said there probably wouldn’t be smut…but I lied lol. Just a warning this one’s more rough.

CW for the entire story: Breeding, Size Difference, Size Kink, Jealousy, Scent Marking, Age Difference, Vaginal Sex, Possessive Behavior, Angst, Twisted, Creampie, Angry Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Hair-pulling, Biting, Master/Pet, Light Dom/sub, Violence, Knotting.

Content disclaimer: This story is inspired by the amazing artist @PammyJammy117 on Twitter/X. I in absolutely no way own or claim the idea of the "Cryptid Rengoku" character. Please give credit to the original artist who inspired the story.

Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three, Chapter Four,

Y/N Perspective.

I woke to the warmth of Kyojuro’s fur, his soft purrs reverberating in my ears as he slept. He was curled around me, his tail snugly wrapped around my waist, his clawed hands holding me close.

It felt like I was melting into his embrace.

But I couldn’t put this off any longer I had to talk to him about the journey. Time was slipping away, and I only had a few days to convince him to let me go.

I tried to slip out of his grasp, but he stirred, his tail tightening around my waist.

His red eyes snapped open, glowing with a stern intensity.

“Where are you going?” His voice was deeper now, as he was waking up.

I knew I had to tread carefully, Kyojuro could be incredibly stubborn. If I stayed calm, I might have a chance to sway him.

Gently, I stroked the fur between his ears, and he responded with a deep purr.

“I need to talk to you about something,” I said softly.

His ears perked slightly.

“What is it, my mate?” He opened his eyes fully, the red glow locking onto mine.

I took a deep breath, knowing this probably wouldn’t be an easy conversation.

“Tamayo wants to take me on a journey, to go northeast to continue hunting.”

I felt his claws dig slightly into my skin, a pinch of pain shooting through me.

“She thinks I could be of some use.”

His growls grew louder, the purrs vanishing. His expression darkened.

“You are not leaving me again.”

I swallowed hard, realizing this wasn’t going as I’d hoped. “Kyojuro, I understand why you don’t want me to go—”

His voice rose, cutting me off. “We had an agreement! You asked me to meet you halfway, and I did. Now you’re breaking our rules and changing your mind!”

His tail remained tightly coiled around me, his claws digging into my skin. His fur bristled, sharp teeth bared.

“The answer is no. You will not go anywhere. My decision is final.” He snarled, his clicking growing louder.

I knew he was angry, but he still held me close. Maybe there was still a chance to reason with him.

“I know I belong to you, Kyojuro. I would never betray that.”

His growl subsided slightly at my words, but his tail stayed tight around my waist, his claws still gripping my skin.

“Please, just hear me out. Surely we can find a way that works for both of us.”

Finally, his tail loosened its grip, and he released his hold on my skin. But I was still pressed against his chest, the tension between us palpable.

I knew I had to keep trying, to find a way that worked for both of us.

“I’m your mate, Kyojuro. I belong to you, but I can help too. I’m not weak—I can be useful to you.”

I saw the conflict in his eyes, a battle between his possessive instincts and the truth of my words.

He leaned in closer, his hot breath grazing my neck.

“You’ll stay with me and help in other ways,” he murmured.

His purrs resumed, low and soothing, and I knew I’d lost this round. But I wasn’t giving up—I’d find another way to convince him to let me go on this journey.

His claws trailed over my skin, gentle now, as he leaned down to kiss me. His purrs vibrated through my body as his hands roamed over me.

I’d let him have this victory, for now. But I’d find another way to sway him. For the moment, I’d wait.

But I needed to understand why. I knew Kyojuro was possessive, as most creatures like him were. It must be hard for him to think of his mate leaving. But I felt there was more to it.

I remembered how furious he’d been when I returned from the northern Territory of Sanemi Shinazugawa, smelling like him. It was the angriest I’d ever seen him.

Do the Hashira hate each other?

I knew they ruled different sectors of the region, but… is there tension between the nine strongest monsters?

It was a puzzle I hadn’t managed to piece together yet.

I reached up to stroke the fur on his face, his purrs growing louder at my touch. He nuzzled into my palm, and I wrapped my arm around his neck, holding him close.

“Is it because you’re worried about me, Kyojuro?” I asked softly. “Or is there another reason you don’t want me to go?”

His purrs stopped abruptly. He pulled back, his eyes narrowing.

A hint of curiosity flashed in his gaze.

“What are you implying, my little human?”

I kept my tone gentle, hoping to reassure him. “I’m just trying to understand. If we can see eye to eye, maybe we can find a solution.”

He looked away, his claws scraping the ground. Tension rippled through his shoulders, his tail twitching restlessly.

I scooted closer, running my hand over his chest.

He glanced down at me, his expression unreadable.

“Do you not realize? You’re my mate now. We’re bonded. Our scents are intertwined. If you step into another Hashira’s territory, they’ll smell me on you.”

He let the words sink in.

“And what would happen then?” I asked quietly.

His tail wrapped around my leg, drawing me closer.

“They’d try to harm the humans that strive to aid and support the opposing hashira. They’d see you as a threat.”

His seriousness, his worry, was palpable.

“Is that really how it works?” I asked, unease creeping into my voice.

Kyojuro nodded, his ear twitching. “While I may be on good terms with some, that’s not the case for everyone. That’s just how we operate.”

My stomach tightened, my heart racing.

He saw my expression change and leaned in closer, his voice softening.

“Do not worry, love. I won’t let anyone harm you. That’s why you can’t leave me.”

I reached up to touch his face, his fur soft beneath my fingers. He leaned into my touch, purring gently.

I knew he wanted to protect me, but I also knew I had to keep trying and stand my ground. I needed to convince him to let me go on this journey, no matter the risks.

I met his eyes, determined. “I understand that you want to protect me, Kyojuro. I appreciate that. But part of our agreement was that you’ll let me continue to work with Tamayo.”

He looked at me, surprise mingling with annoyance, but I pressed on.

“I’ll do what’s right, what I owe her. I promise to be careful, and I’ll return to you as soon as I can. Please, don’t make me choose between you and what’s right.”

I saw the conflict in his eyes again, the battle between his possessive instincts and his understanding of what I needed.

He leaned in closer, his purrs vibrating through me. His voice was deep and husky.

“I’ll think about it, my mate. But don’t expect me to say yes easily.”

Close enough, we are finally heading in the right direction.

——————-

I sat with Tamayo and Yushiro in the small meeting room at the base, reviewing the plans for our journey northeast.

It would just be the three of us, which I knew would make Kyojuro even less pleased. I needed to explain everything to him before we left.

But for now, I focused on the maps and routes spread out before me.

“Are we going to run into any problems here?” Yushiro asked, pointing to a cluster of water on the map.

Tamayo nodded. “If I’m right, this is the territory of the kraken hybrid, Giyu Tomioka. He’s a Hashira, but he’s not as violent or aggressive as Shinazugawa. If we encounter him, he should be manageable.”

Yushiro frowned. “Kraken hybrid? Won’t he just hide underwater until we’re gone?”

“No,” Tamayo replied, her tone assured. “If we arrive, he’ll likely be on the defensive. These creatures rarely hide from threats—they’d rather confront and scare them off. Even if he’s not as aggressive, he’ll still show himself.”

Yushiro crossed his arms, looking less than satisfied.

“What if he doesn’t show?” I asked, my voice cutting through the tension.

Tamayo met my gaze, a certainty in her eyes that was almost unsettling. “Oh, he will.”

Something about her confidence unnerved me. I knew Tamayo had been hunting monsters for years, but to my knowledge, she’d never captured one. So why was she so certain this time?

“There’s been too much activity in the woods lately,” she continued calmly. “Too many things that don’t add up. I know something’s happening out there.”

Kyojuro. She’s talking about Kyojuro.

A wave of paranoia washed over me. What if she finds out? What if she already knows? I can’t let her discover him. I won’t let them hurt him.

I have to warn him—he needs to stay away from this part of the woods.

Tamayo’s voice pulled me back to the present. “We need to be prepared for anything. We don’t know what we’ll find out there, and we can’t underestimate the power of these monsters.”

I nodded, feeling a surge of determination. I’d make sure Kyojuro was safe. I wouldn’t let anything happen to him. I’d protect him, no matter what.

“We leave in two days,” Tamayo said briskly, signaling the end of the meeting. “Be ready.”

I rose from my seat, my heart pounding.

I needed to get to Kyojuro as soon as possible. I needed to warn him.

And then, I had to convince him to let me go on this journey.

I needed to get Tamayo away from here, to distract her from what was happening around us. Traveling would be a good diversion. If her focus was on a different monster, she’d lose interest in Kyojuro.

I’m going, no matter what. I won’t let Tamayo down, despite Kyojuro’s fears. I’m doing this for him too—to protect him from Tamayo’s suspicion.

I’ll keep him safe, just as he’s always promised to do for me. That’s what mates… what lovers do.

I just hope Kyojuro will see it the same way.

—————

To be honest, this constant back and forth between the base and the den is wearing thin. I dread pushing through the forest at night, but I suppose it gives me time to think about what I’m going to say.

Once I finally approached the den, something felt off. It was completely dark. Had Kyojuro gone to sleep already? He usually kept a fire lit until we were ready to rest.

A sense of unease began to creep in as I drew closer. My pulse quickened. Why does this feel so wrong? I hesitated at the entrance, peering into the pitch-black den, the faint moonlight barely penetrating the darkness.

Then, I heard it—a low growl, followed by the familiar clicking I’d come to recognize.

“Kyojuro?” I called out, my voice trembling slightly.

Silence. The air grew unnervingly still. All I could hear was the pounding of my heart and the sound of my own breath.

Just as I opened my mouth to call out again, a sudden gust of wind swept past me, and those glowing red eyes were suddenly inches from my face, piercing straight into my soul.

I thought my heart was going to give out right then and there.

His gaze locked onto mine, and I could see his sharp teeth gleaming in a predatory smile as the moonlight faintly illuminated his face. The clicking grew louder.

“There you are…” he purred, his voice sending a shiver down my spine.

I struggled to breathe; he was terrifying me—badly.

“K-Kyojuro? What are you doing? Is something wrong?—”

Before I could finish, his tail coiled around my wrists, pinning my hands above my head.

He lifted me off the ground effortlessly, suspending me by my wrists as he pulled me closer to the nest, keeping me in the air to meet his eyes.

“My mate still wishes to escape from me, I see…” he growled, amusement lacing his voice.

“Escape? No, it’s not like that!” I try to defend myself, my voice trembling.

He laughs, but there’s no warmth in it.

“You really think you can hide your true intentions from me?” His long tongue trails up my neck, and despite the fear, I can’t stop the blush that creeps over my face.

What is he doing?

“Oh, I’ve given your words from this morning plenty of thought,” he murmurs, his voice dripping with dark amusement. “I think it’s safe to say I’ll try to compromise with you.”

“You will?” I ask, genuinely curious, hope flickering in my chest.

His grip on my wrists suddenly loosens, and I drop to the floor of the nest, staring up at him.

He looks down at me, still smiling, his eyes glowing with that same eerie light. But something feels different now—more intense, more dangerous.

“Since you insist on leaving me to venture into the territories of others, I’ve decided there’s only one way I’ll feel ‘comfortable’ letting you go,” he growled deeply. “I’m going to completely submerge you in my scent and thoroughly mark you as mine.”

My eyes widened as I instinctively tried to back away, still looking up at him.

“But… you said if the Hashira could smell me on you, they’d want to hurt me—that they’d see me as a threat,” I stammered, trying to make sense of his words despite the fear gnawing at me.

He stepped closer, matching my retreat with his advance.

“Yes, I did say that. And it’s true. But you’re not just any human—you’re my mate,” he continued, his tone dark and possessive. “For one Hashira to kill another’s mate could mean battle, war… all kinds of problems. So if you want to leave, you’ll have to go through the process.”

He leaned in closer, his eyes flashing a menacing red. “And you won’t complain.”

His voice dropped into a low, dangerous purr, and my heart fluttered with a mix of fear and something I didn’t want to name.

The clicking grew louder, reverberating through the ground beneath me. The very air seemed to hum with the force of his presence.

I was trapped, and he knew it. There was no escape.

My voice barely emerged, trembling. “You’re going to… mark me?”

His purr deepened, the clicking intensifying.

“Oh, yes,” he murmured, his voice thick with possessiveness. “By the time I’m done, you’ll reek of me and only me.”

I felt consumed by him, completely overwhelmed. I was trapped beneath him, unable to move.

But I didn’t want to escape. I wanted to stay with him, to feel him fill me.

He leaned back, his glowing red eyes meeting my gaze. “Strip,” he growled, his eyes flashing with desire.

I hesitated, my heart pounding. But something in his gaze told me he wouldn’t let me say no.

I reached down, my hands trembled slightly as I removed my clothes. His eyes watched my every movement, his purrs growing louder.

Once I removed all my clothing he leaned in, and before I could react, he pounced, pinning me down on the nest.

His tail coiled around my legs, his claws sinking into my skin as he pressed his weight over me, holding me in place.

My heart raced, pounding in my ears. Was I scared? Absolutely. But I couldn’t deny the thrill that surged through me. This was Kyojuro—the creature who claimed me, body and soul.

He was my mate, my lover. And I was his, completely.

“I won’t let anyone else touch you, little human,” he murmured in my ear, his hot breath making my skin tingle. “Not while you wear my scent.”

As his claws dug deeper into my skin, I gasped as his teeth nipped at the side of my neck.

A shiver ran through me. And as I looked up into those glowing red eyes, I knew there was no going back now.

Whether I liked it or not. Whether I understood it or not.

Kyojuro Rengoku was mine, and I was his. Nothing would ever change that. Nothing could ever take him from me.

His teeth sank deeper into my neck, a sharp pain flaring to life as he bit me. I whimpered, struggling against him.

But he held me firm, his claws plunged

Into my arms, his tail wrapping tighter around me. His purr rumbled through my body, and the clicking grew louder, echoing in my ears.

He leaned back, releasing his hold on my neck. Blood trickled down my skin, but I couldn’t see it clearly in the darkness of the den.

He looked down at me, his expression fierce and feral.

“I need to mark you all over,” he growled, his eyes flashing with desire. “I need you to smell like me, so all know you’re mine.”

He lowered his mouth to my collarbone, his teeth sinking in. I cried out, struggling against him.

But he was relentless, biting and marking me all over my body. His tail tightened around my legs. It hurt, but I liked it.

I was trapped, helpless beneath him. And yet, I didn’t want to fight him.

He leaned up, meeting my gaze. “I hope my mate is prepared for me.” he growled, his eyes blazing with possessiveness. “Any monster that dare come into contact with you will know exactly who owns you.”

I felt my body respond, heat flooding between my legs. His scent, his purrs, his bites—it all combined to drive me crazy with lust.

I let out a light gasp as he flips me onto my stomach, grabbing my hips and positioning my ass out.

He leaned in, I could feel him leaning against my back. He was being rough, aggressive, demanding. He nipped at my nape, his purrs and clicks vibrating through my body.

I felt consumed by him, completely overwhelmed. He was everywhere, filling my senses.

I felt his cock harden against me, his purrs growing louder.

I shouldn’t be wanting this, I shouldn’t be okay with this monster man handling me and marking up my body. But I want him so badly.

He leaned in closer, his nose skimming my neck. “Mine,” he growled, his scent filling my senses.

His tail coiled around my legs, forcing them apart. His claws dug into my hips, holding me in place.

I felt his cock press against my entrance from behind, hard and thick. He leaned in closer, his purrs rumbling through my body.

“Be a good mate, and take all of it,” he growled, his voice thick with possession.

He finally thrust into me, his cock filling me completely. I cried out, my body stretching around him.

He let out an animalistic growl, his tail tightening around my legs so bright I knew it would leave bruises.

He leaned in closer, his mouth meeting my neck. He bit me again on the other side this time, his teeth sinking deep.

I moaned, arching up against him. His cock filled me perfectly, hitting all the right spots.

he growled, i could feel him nipping at my shoulders covering my back in spots as he fucked me. “My good mate knows how to take it, so perfect.” He praises me.

His praises only edge me on, making my eyes roll back slightly. God, it hurts so good.

His cock thrust into me faster now, the knot pushing against the entrance of my cunt.

I just know it’s going to make me feel so full.

He leaned in closer, he gets closer to my ear and whispers. “If Giyu Tomioka touches you, I’ll ensure you never have the strength to walk ever again.” He growls.

My eyes go wide once I feel his knot finally push inside me. I felt a wave of pleasure wash over me as it rubbed against my g-spot.

I moaned, and whimpered loudly. I couldn’t contain it.

His cock began to pulse inside me, his knot swelling to its full size. I felt a rush of pleasure, my body clenching around him.

I cried out, my body shaking with pleasure. His growls and clicks filled the air and rumbled through my body, as I came around him.

He leaned back, as he pistons into me at a rapid rate. My mind going blank.

His purrs grew louder, his scent overwhelming me. His cock pulsed inside me, filling me with his seed.

I moaned, and cried out as I felt him completely unload into me. My stomach starting to feel warm and uncomfortably full.

He kept me in this position his clawed hand on the center of my back keeping me arched in place until he emptied everything out it side of me.

I feel fucked out of my mind once again by him.

His cum filled me to the point I can feel it drip down my thighs. His purrs grow quiet as he slowly pulls out of me.

He then flips me onto my back and settles on top of me, to look at me.

I might not have been able to see very well due to the poor lighting, but I could see those glowing eyes and that wicked smile as he looked down at me like I was nothing but his prey.

He grabbed my face with one of his hands, he purrs seemingly satisfied, as he leaned in. “I hope you’ve learned your lesson, little human.”

His claws traced over my arms, his purr growing softer. He leaned in to my ear, whispering, “If you’re going to continue to go against my wishes, I’m not going to be so gentle with you.”

He nuzzled me and kisses me with such gentleness, despite his rough behavior earlier.

“You’re mine, and I’m going to be damned if anyone ever tries to take that from me,” he whispered.

I nodded my head, my voice coming out weak and soft. “Yes, Kyojuro.” I whisper as he continues to purr.

He pulls back from me, his purrs growing softer. His tail slowly releases its hold on me, allowing my legs to close back up. He runs his hand down my thigh and my ass, his claws tracing over the sensitive skin. He nuzzles me, his purrs soft.

His purrs slowly died down, I felt him lay next to me, he pulls me close to him.

He’s crazy, but he makes me feel content, and protected despite everything. But now I’m completely exhausted from everything that happened tonight.

He leaned in nuzzled against my hair, his purrs and clicks finally dying down.

I fell asleep in his arms. Knowing that no matter what I was safe. And that soon I’d be traveling, and he’d be here, waiting for me to come back. But this time, I won’t be sick because I actually got his permission.

I’d be heading into the heart of the woods, and hopefully, I’d return in one piece.

Are all the Hashira this insane? I was always lead to believe Kyojuro Rengoku was one of the more tame ones, a kind gentle monster. I guess in some ways they got it right…

That’s the last thought that goes through my head before I fall asleep, surrounded by Kyojuro’s purrs. And his strong arms wrapped around me, protecting me. And his fur and body keeping me warm. His scent covering my entire body, claiming me as his.

I knew that no matter what happened on the journey with Tamayo, I was safe and cared for in his arms. And nothing can ever change that.

And so with that, I drifted off to sleep, with him next to me, my mate. My protector.

I think I’m genuinely starting to fall in love with him… Am I crazy?

Tags: @emmenic726 @i0love0tea @fandomenbylover

[yanderecrazysie]

Twisted Zoo: Chapter Six

This is based on the stories of a keeper reader with the octotrio by @ashensgrotto and @merakiui.

Also @twistedcece @cenatour @ursinaw @xiaopleasecomehome @bearshideout @koebishrimpuwu @vash-yuu @help-whatdoimakemyusername @secret-potion @magmdnv @sunshine-for-serotonin @mel-star636 @silkkorchid @thatpersonuouknow @the-ace-reader @pamv11 @coffee-or-hot-cocoa @hrhqueenfox @goseew @luxthestrange @juno-of-wonderland @who-mst @despairingy-obsessed @lanxianschoenheit @ceramic-raven @sirenetheblogger @a13x15a5133p @abcdontbotherme @m0063576 @kimdourden @rammylog @starshiningsirius @im-here-for-the-fun-of-it @the-monochrome-jester and @thisisafish123 wanted to be tagged! Let me know if anyone else wants to be tagged for future chapters. If you no longer want to be tagged, please tell me! (Some of the tags might not have worked, and I’m sorry if so!)

Summary: You’re a brand new zookeeper at The Halfling Zoo- a place where half-animals live in captivity. Your job is simple- feed them and study them. Your main worry is that one of the more dangerous halflings might kill you. 

Unfortunately, that may become the least of your worries.

Previous part: Chapter Five

Next Part: Chapter Seven

WARNINGS: suggestive content

Note: All characters are aged up, since there will be mature themes in future parts.

Also, I can’t promise I’ll finish this. I suck at finishing stories.

Note 2: Sorry for this being so late.

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The first place to start was the aquarium. You were a little excited to see Floyd again, considering how friendly he was. If you were going to make a huge discovery, it may just be with the eel halflings.

You walked up to the water and peered down at it. It’s hard to see anything down there. From the surface, you could only see indistinct shapes of rocks and coral. You put your hand in the water and splashed it a little, hoping to get the attention of the creatures down below.

Suddenly, an arm seizes your hand and starts to pull. You lose your balance and tumble forward, falling into the water with a splash. You gasp and swallow salt water, gagging on the taste and, once you surfaced, scrabbling desperately against the concrete walkway that led up to the water’s edge.

You noticed a metal railing on your left, probably meant for divers to get out of the water easily. You began to swim for it but your ankle was grabbed and you were dunked under the water once more.

Once you surfaced, you spun around and were met with Floyd’s mismatched gaze. He giggled and playfully tugged on your ankle again.

“Stop!” you yelled, the sound echoing against the walls. Floyd let go of your ankle and moved backwards, looking like a kicked puppy.

You swam to the railing and pulled yourself out. You pulled your notebook out of your pocket to find it ruined, the paper too waterlogged to use. Thankfully, you used different notepads for each enclosure, so the notes from the days prior were safe, but the three notepads you had brought today were unusable.

“We don’t do that, Floyd,” you said sternly, “I don’t go into the water.”

Floyd blew bubbles in the water, his eyes sad. Suddenly, he disappeared into the water with a large splash that hit your already soaking body. You shivered in the cold air, wishing you had a towel. 

An eel surfaced, and you were about to scold Floyd again, before you realized the halfling was Jade, and not his twin.

“Hello, Jade,” you said wearily.

Jade blinked softly at you, before saying, “I am sorry for Floyd.”

Your heart melted a little, “It’s okay.”

It would be fine. You could just take notes when you got home. Next time, you’d put them in a waterproof container or ziplock bag or something before visiting the aquarium.

Floyd resurfaced, holding something black in his hands. It took you a moment to realize it was a tentacle. Confused, you watched as he dragged a blushing Azul to the surface.

“Brought… octopus… you asked,” Floyd said proudly.

It took you a few moments to put things together. Floyd was trying to make it up to you by bringing you Azul, who you had asked for yesterday.

“Floyd…” you weren’t even sure what to say to the eel. He clearly didn’t have any bad intentions when he pulled you into the water- he probably thought it was a game or something.

You sighed, “It’s okay, Floyd, I forgive you.”

Floyd swam up to the edge of the tank, blinking up at you with his heterochromatic eyes, still holding one of Azul’s tentacles.

Azul looked half-furious, half-mortified, trying in vain to get his tentacle out of Floyd’s grip.

“Floyd, you should let go of Azul,” you said gently. Floyd pouted for a moment, upset that you weren’t proud of him for bringing the octopus halfling to you, but let go of the tentacle. It immediately shot through the water, back to Azul, who began to sink under the water.

“Wait! I wanted to say ‘hi’ to you!”

Azul stopped in his tracks and turned his head to you, disbelief etched on his features. 

“My name’s (Y/n). I’m glad to meet all three of you,” you said, holding out a hand.

The three of them stared at your outstretched hand before Jade swam closer and gently put his clawed, webbed hand in yours and shook. His arm slipped back into the water without a splash. 

Floyd was fascinated by the action and reached up to grab your hand. For a moment, he tightened like he might pull you into the water, but once glance at your panicked face made him click disappointedly and release your hand.

Azul approached almost confidently and diplomatically shook your hand as though you were making a business deal with him. It was such a contrast from his normally-skittish attitude, that you almost forgot to shake back.

Floyd suddenly started to yell “(Y/n)!” over and over again. It was so loud that you covered your ears, the echoes bouncing off the walls as though he were shouting it three times at once.

“Floyd! Calm down!”

Floyd giggled and crooned, “Floyd, Jade, Azul, (Y/n)!” 

“Yes, those are our names,” you said with a tired laugh.

You looked at the clock and cursed. You had to split your time between three exhibits, which meant you had to get out of there now. “Guys, I gotta go.”

Floyd let out a sad wail, throwing himself against the tank wall and sinking down slowly and dramatically. You held back a laugh and waved to the other two halflings.

“I’ll see you all in a few days.”

“Days?!” Floyd wailed.

“Sorry, Floyd. Next time, don’t drown me please.”

Floyd stuck out his tongue and you laughed.

You left the aquarium, shivering when the cool air hit your soaked clothes and skin. Thankfully, there weren’t many guests in this area, but the ones that were around stared at you. You hurried to the reptile house, sighing in relief as the warm air from the heating lamps washed over you.

You opened up the door to the snake tank and stepped inside. “Hey Jamil, Kalim, I’m back!”

A white-haired head shot up out of the bushes, “(Y/n)!”

“Hi, Kalim,” you laughed at his enthusiasm and crouched down as he slithered towards you. He didn’t draw himself to full height, so that he would be only a little taller than your crouched form.

To your surprise, his hands shot out and grabbed the sides of your face. You were stunned into silence as Kalim let out a laugh, “So soft!”

“Kalim!” you weren’t sure how to react, so you gently took both of his hands and pulled them away from your face. He resisted, pressing his palms harder into your cheeks.

“Nooo, soft,” Kalim whined, pouting as if you were trying to take something precious away from him.

“Kalim, you can’t just hold onto my face,” you explained, trying fruitlessly to remove his hands.

“Soft!” Kalim exclaimed, as if that explained everything.

“Kalim, you can’t,” you protested, trying to stay calm, “It’s making me uncomfortable.”

The boa constrictor finally released your face, pouting slightly, “Sorry. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you said, taking a deep breath. You knew he didn’t mean any harm, but you really didn’t like being touched without your permission. You could feel your hands trembling a little from the unwanted contact so you placed them on your lap.

“Where’s Jamil? I’d like to talk to him too,” you asked.

“Right here,” Jamil’s smooth voice answered. You could see his face peering at you from between two bushes. He looked amused and you had a sinking feeling he had been watching the whole thing without offering any assistance. His eyes strayed to your shaking hands and the smile grew a little.

“Jamil is best friend!” Kalim said happily.

The smile on Jamil’s face disappeared immediately. It seemed Kalim’s feelings were a little one-sided and you felt kind of bad for him. Both of them, actually.

Imagine being stuck in a tank with someone who doesn’t like you. Or maybe worse, imagine being stuck in a tank with someone you don’t like.

“Do you mind if I take notes on you both?” you asked, “We can talk too, if you feel like it!”

Kalim lit up like a Christmas tree, “Wanna talk!”

“About what?” you asked happily.

Kalim stared at you blankly. For a moment, you thought he didn’t understand, but then you realized he just didn’t know what to talk about.

“Can you tell me what it’s like to be snake halflings?” you asked, directing you question to include Jamil.

Jamil tilted his head, “We took a deal to live here. I sometimes regret that decision.”

You cringed a little as Kalim laughed happily, “No regrets for me!” He seemed completely oblivious to the fact that Jamil was glaring at him.

Jamil slithered closer to you, “If you lived in the wild, having to feed off of rats, wouldn’t you want to move to a place where you are fed like a king?”

“Well, probably,” you admitted, “You wouldn’t have to fight to survive.”

“Exactly. But would you want humans tapping on the glass every day, trying to make you move?”

“No,” you replied, “I wouldn’t.”

“But which is worse?” Jamil asked, “Fighting to see the next day or being a zoo animal?”

“I- I don’t know,” you admitted, “Both have their own cons and pros.”

“‘Cons and pros’?” Jamil asked, confused by the phrase.

“Their own good and bad things,” you explained.

“Ah, yes. Their own good and bad things,” Jamil sighed, “Good and bad.”

Kalim looked back and forth between you two, wearing a confused expression on his face. “I like here,” he said, “Happy here.”

“I’m glad for you, Kalim,” you said, reaching over to ruffle his white hair. His eyes widened at the motion, pupils dilating. His tongue, one that matched a snake’s, but larger, flicked out to taste the air before disappearing into his mouth again.

You were fascinated, “Your tongue- I’ve never seen you do that before.” Normally, snakes were always showing their tongue, using it to scent predators, sense prey, and attract mates. However, neither of the snake halflings showed their tongues until now.

Jamil chuckled and disappeared back into the bushes. Kalim tilted his head at you and smiled, not responding.

“I should probably go see the next halfling,” you said. You couldn’t see the clock, but you knew that you had spent a good chunk of time with them.

Kalim’s tail wrapped around your ankle, but you pried it off of you. He pouted once more, but peacefully watched as you left the tank, promising to be back in a few days.

You walked to the other side of the room, waving at a few guests before slipping through the employee door into the lizard’s tank. “Hey, Idia, I’m back!”

“That’s fine,” came the dreary responding voice. You couldn’t find the source under all the bushes, so you waded carefully through them, making sure not to step on anything blue.

The lizard halfling doesn’t seem to be very friendly. Or, rather, he doesn’t seem very happy.

“Is there anything I can do to cheer you up?” you asked.

“No,” Idia replied.

“What do you like to eat, if not burgers?” you asked the halfling you still could not find.

“In the wild, I ate insects,” he drawled, “So fried grasshoppers would be nice.”

“I’ll put in a good word with your keeper,” you told him, finally spotting electric blue scales in the corner of his tank.

Idia lay on his stomach, head resting on his crossed arms. He looked up at you with a bored expression, “Thanks.”

“It’s no problem,” you said cheerfully, crouching down across from him, “If they don’t change your diet, I’ll try to bring you something.”

Idia’s eyebrows shot up and his eyes widened, “Y-you would do that? For me?”

“Of course,” you said with a gentle smile. Idia did not return the gesture, but you could tell his features had softened a little.

“I don’t like humans. Or other halflings,” Idia said in his soft, dreary voice.

“I understand,” you replied, “Do you want to be left alone for now?” It would suck if he said “yes”, sure, but you knew you had to take getting close to him in little steps.

Idia was silent for a moment before sighing, “No, you can stay.”

“Do you enjoy being here?” you asked, remembering your conversation with the snakes.

“Yes,” Idia replied immediately.

“Why?”

“I requested my own tank, so I don’t have to interact with anyone else. I get to be alone as long as I want.”

“Introvert, huh?” you laughed.

“What is that? Why are you laughing at me?” Idia sounded hurt, and you rushed to explain.

“No, no, I just meant… introvert means you like being alone at least sometimes,” you said, “I wasn’t laughing at you, I just…”

“Of course you would laugh at me,” Idia said, burying his face in his arms.

“No, it’s okay!” you said frantically, “I would never want to insult you. I’m so sorry.”

Idia peeked at you from under his arms, “Really? You won’t insult me?”

“Of course.”

“I…” Idia sighed softly, “I want to be alone for now. It’s nothing personal. Just… too much for today.”

“Okay,” you said reluctantly, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Idia sighed again, watching you as you got up and left the enclosure, feeling like you’d messed up big time.

There were so many things to remember… you really wish Floyd hadn’t destroyed all of your notebooks for the day, because you’d have to write everything down as soon as you got home. You were so upset that you barely realized you had arrived at the next enclosure’s door.

You opened it up and embraced the humid air of the “jungle”. Like before, the two albino tigers stood near the door as though they were guards. This time, Silver was awake and alert, both of them staring at you with stern expressions.

Sebek’s expression softened as he recognized you, but Silver’s remained poker-faced. 

“What are you doing here again? We have already been fed,” Sebek said, suspicion lacing his voice.

“I’m here as a researcher. I was wondering if we could talk,” you said, trying to sound like you weren’t intimidated by the predators in front of you.

Silver’s ears and tail twitched at your words, but Sebek remained stiff.

“Talk about what?” Sebek asked.

“Well, are you enjoying your time here?” you asked, “What made you come here?”

“Young master is fascinated by humans and decided to take the zoo owner’s offer. We decided to follow him.”

“Young master?”

“Malleus.”

The panther with horns, you realized with a start. The amount of respect that they must have for him, choosing to follow him to a zoo halfway across the world, made you a little scared of him. To think there was a halfling here that could use magic… It made you more than a little nervous to know you had to approach him.

“Are you enjoying your time here?” you repeated.

“It is nice,” Silver spoke up, his expression still not changing, “Comfortable. No competition for prey.”

Sebek nodded, “It is better here.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” you were genuinely relieved. Jamil seemed to have his reservations, but everyone else seemed happy enough.

“You want to see Malleus?” Silver asked.

“Young master is not one to be approached so casually!” Sebek roared. You covered your ears, the sound reverberating in your skull.

“Maybe you could escort me. You know, since you and Malleus are so close,” you suggested.

Sebek seemed stunned, “Young master and I? Close?”

“He wouldn’t have let you come if he didn’t care about you, right?” you weren’t sure your logic made sense, but you did want to make the tigers happy.

Silver stood up straighter, but his face was still stern. Maybe he doesn’t show emotion well.

“I would appreciate it if you could bring me to see Malleus and the other panther halfling,” you said.

“Lilia?” Silver said, perking up a little, “Yes, we can see him.”

“Alright, let’s go!” you said cheerfully.

“We can see him,” Silver said again.

You followed his gaze and realized that, once again, the panther with black and pink hair was hanging upside down on the branch above you. You recoiled in surprise, “You- you scared me! Geez…”

Lilia let himself fall to the ground, landing on his feet gracefully, “I’m sorry. Did not mean to scare.”

“It’s okay,” you said, holding a hand to your heart, feeling it pound under your skin. It began to slow as you got over the shock of his sudden appearance.

“Can we all go see Malleus?” you asked him. Somehow you felt safer approaching him with three halflings on your side than if you were alone.

Lilia looked surprised. After a moment, he replied, “Yes. We can.”

The four of you, led by Sebek, walked through the jungle. You finally came across the clearing you had been to earlier, finding the horned panther stretched out on the rock, as if awaiting your arrival.

You waved at him and his eyes widened, as though he didn’t expect it. He sat up, “You approach me without fear, child of man.”

You realized he was right. Although you had been afraid at the thought earlier, now that you stood before him, you had no fear. In fact, you kind of felt fascinated. As if in a daze, you walked up to him and asked, “Can I touch your horns?”

Sebek made a spluttering noise, Silver’s expression finally changed to surprise, and Lilia let out a soft gasp. Malleus’s eyes widened even further before a gentle smile spread across his face.

“Yes, you may touch,” Malleus said softly.

You reached out and touched the right horn, your fingers touching the rigid surface, surprising you with its warmth. Malleus’s eyes fluttered closed and he let out a soft sigh, as though pleased by your actions. You wrapped your hand around it, feeling how tough it was and moved your hands down, feeling how it went from slim to thick. 

Malleus let out a moan, jolting under your touch. Time seemed to freeze as he slapped a hand over his mouth in embarrassment. Your face ablaze, you let go of his horn and profusely apologized.

Silver and Sebek were avoiding Malleus and your gaze, looking in opposite directions with blushes on their cheeks. Lilia, on the other hand, let out a giggle.

“I should… um… go back now!” you said, backing away. Malleus nodded, hiding his face from you with one hand.

You, Silver, Sebek, and Lilia began the trek to the enclosure door, Lilia still giggling the whole way. When you got to your destination, you awkwardly waved to them.

“Wait,” Lilia said. You turned around and he continued, “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For making him happy,” Lilia said with a closed-eyed smile. 

Cheeks heating up, you managed to mutter out a goodbye before fumbling with the lock and bursting out the door. 

All three pairs of eyes watched as you left the zoo.

[azzo0]

Pickpocket

Summary: You've successfully managed to pickpocket a fortune. While you're fantasising about the things you could do with so much money, you're dragged away by the royal guards to face the wrath of Prince Katsuki.

Pairing: Bakugo x f!reader

A/N: I wanted to complete the story within this chapter, but it got too long. See you in the next chapter!

Part 1; Part 3

You opened the coin bag you had pickpocketed from the mysteriously covered stranger, your jaw dropping to the floor when you saw it was filled to the brim with gold coins. It looked like you had just stolen someone's life savings.

Your parents and siblings knew that apart from the hunts you went on and did not make much from, you often went out to pickpocket, something you often got scoldings for. But the few extra silvers that you managed to get lightened the weight on your parents' shoulders to some extent. It was usually just a few coppers and silvers you stole. How were you going to explain this fortune you pickpocketed? 

While you were in the middle of counting the coins, your youngest brother decided to come into your room, gaping at the gold on your desk, "Y/n, what is that?! Did you just hunt a super rare creature or something?"

"You know the only thing available in these forests is rabbits and birds or deer if we're lucky," a mischievous glint flashed in your eyes, "I pickpocketed this."

"You're unbelievable," He shook his head, picking up a coin, which you snatched, "With that much gold, we'll be able to eat three times a day, buy a horse and a carriage, new clothes and a whole castle!"

You smiled at the youngest. It wasn't enough to tend to all his dreams, but it still made you happy knowing you could at least feed your family and get a few needed household items. However, your fantasies were short-lived when you heard a series of heavy knocks on the front door.

"I'll go see who it is." You went to see who it was to find your father had already answered the door. You froze when you saw five hulking royal guards talking to your father. You didn't need to step forward and talk to them to know this was about you.

Who was the person you pickpocketed? Perhaps a noble or someone close to the royal family? Sweat rolled down your neck when one of the guards caught your eye. He matched in past your father, squinting at your face, "Oi, she's the one we're looking for!"

"Me? What could I have possibly done?" You innocently batted your eyelashes. 

"Don't pretend like you don't know why. You stole from the prince." The guard spat. 

"Y/n? Is this true?" Your father asked. Your face drained of colour. That person you stole from was the prince? You even insulted him! God, you were in a shit ton of trouble. 

"I found the coins!" One of the guards exclaimed from behind you, coming out of your room with your brother, hitting the guards back with closed fists to give the money back. 

"Stay off, brat. This is not yours. It belongs to the royal family." The guard kicked your brother in the gut, sending him flying away. You growled at him, pouncing at him with a fist ready.

"Don't you dare touch him!" You yelled, swinging your fist at his face. Before the punch could land, another guard kicked you in the side, sending you crashing into a wall. 

"Now you're in trouble not only for stealing but also for trying to harm a royal guard," One of the guards took you by the arm, pulling you to your feet, "Prince Katsuki will see to you personally."

"Like I give a rat's ass!" You spat, thrashing as the guard held your hands behind you. Another guard tried getting your legs to stop flailing but got his jaw bruised instead. Your family was huddled together in a corner, timidly watching you try to pry away from the guards. 

"Get off me!" You yelled as you got dragged away and got tied onto a horse with your mouth and hands tied so the guards wouldn't have to listen to your constant yelling and complaints. 

Once at the ginormous castle, two guards held you by your arms, dragging you inside. You shuddered when you felt the cold from the marble floor travel up your spine. You must've lost your shoes when the guards yanked you around. 

"Mind your manners when in the presence of the prince." One of the guards said, his fingers digging into the flesh of your arms. You shot him a glare, trying to free your arm from his grip. What was the point of bruising your arms when your hands were already tied behind you? 

The doors to the throne hall were opened, and the guards dragged you inside, forcing you to your knees so you were bowing low. When they let your head lift from the floor, you dared to look up. 

There he was, Prince Katsuki, sitting on the prince's chair beside the King's and Queen's throne, blood-red eyes mindlessly boring into you. All that you heard about the prince was true-- stunning crimson eyes, spiky ash-blonde hair, and flawless skin. Behind his lethal beauty was evident rage and fury.

Bakugo could see your gaze wavering between the floor and him as you tried to keep that sassy and brave front. Your hair was in a mess, and your clothes were dirty from being pushed and kicked around. He told his guards not to use force, and here you were, looking like you fell into a wrestling pit. The guards standing behind you didn't look any better, with scratches and bruises on their faces. 

"Your Royal Highness," One of the guards behind you said, "This woman not only stole from you but also put up a fight with us."

"Care to explain?" Bakugo rasped.

"Your guard kicked my ten-year-old brother in the stomach. Was I supposed to stand and watch?" You snarled at the prince, your teeth bared. Bakugo's eyes shifted to the guards, demanding an answer. 

"Y-Your Highness, the child was clinging to my back and-"

"So you kicked him." Bakugo cut him off, standing up and coming down the steps that lead to the thrones, stopping in front of you, "Get out, all of you. I'll deal with you later."

"But, Your High-"

"Now."

You gulped once the guards were gone, and although you hated them, you wished they'd stay since being alone with the prince made you feel like you were going to get slaughtered like a lamb. You held his gaze from your position on the floor, not letting your fear slip through your eyes. 

"Stand." He ordered.

"Are one-word sentences all you know to speak, princeling?" You smiled at him with sickly sweet poison. "I really like it on the floor. It's comfortable."

You let out a gasp when he suddenly pulled you to your feet, the fabric of your shirt balled in his fist, his maroon eyes dangerously close, "Watch who you're talkin' to, sweetheart," he growled, his voice reverberating in his chest, "I could throw you in prison forever, and you wouldn't be able to do anything about it."

"Must be fun being a spoiled prince, eh." Bakugo looked down at your devilish grin. Weren't you afraid of him one bit? Prison was the place every little thief like you went to, but something about you stirred amusement and another mysterious feeling deep within him. It wasn't every day he got to see a brat like you roast a prince right at his face and take on five guards at once.

"Besides," you went on. "I'm going to go to prison anyway. I might as well strut in there with a show." 

"You have some nerve speaking to me like that," He scowled, letting your shirt go, "You ain't going to prison." 

"Huh?" 

"Yer servin' three months at the castle." He said. "And if I find you snooping around and stealing, I'm chopping your ugly fingers off." 

"I'm not scrubbing your dishes and sweeping your damn floors." You scoffed. "Throw me in prison instead."

"Does that pretty little mouth of yours ever shut up, or does it have a fucking answer to everything?" Bakugo glared at you. You had some guts rejecting his orders like he was some commoner you'd known all your life. 

"I'm not working at the castle, and that's final." You said firmly. 

A hint of fear flashed in your eyes when Bakugo bared his teeth at you, approaching you with slow strides. You kept backing away until your back was pressed into the doors behind you, your chest tightening when you saw his hand rest on the hilt of the sword dangling from his side. 

He lowered his head to your level, roughly grabbing your chin and making you look into his eyes. When you tried to shift to the side, he put an elbow on the door, trapping you. Looking into his deep red eyes, you felt your heartbeat quicken, knots forming in your stomach. 

"I'm the one who decides what your punishment is. Do not forget that," he purred into your ear. You almost shivered. His voice was supposed to be scaring you, not making your heart race, "Either you work here for three months or get your hands cut off."

He pulled away, smirking down at you satisfyingly. He could tell you were flustered as you glared daggers at him, "Am I clear?"

Your gaze shifted down to the floor, "Yes."

He called for the servants to take you to the servant quarters and get the filth cleaned off you. You sat in an unnecessarily big tub filled with warm water as the other servants scrubbed your body raw. You blankly let them, still trying to process what on earth had just happened. After your bath, you were forced into a night suit that would have been considered low quality for the royals and nobles, but it was more expensive than anything you ever owned. 

"What kind of punishment is this?" You muttered, lying on the comfortable bed in your new room. 

It was a very big punishment.

It all started going down from the moment you woke up. The head maid scolded you for not waking up early enough and rushed you into the kitchen, where you got yelled at by the chef for not washing the dishes quickly enough.

"What are you even good at?!" He yelled, pushing you aside when you somehow managed to burn the stew he made. All you were supposed to do was stand and watch it.

"I'm good at hunting." You mumbled.

"Too bad you're not here for hunting," He gave you a sour look as he diced up the ingredients to remake the stew. 

After the dishes were done, you were handed a mop and a bucket to sweep the great hall. You took a deep breath, stepping into the thankfully empty great hall. It was just mopping the floor. You wouldn't mess this up, right?

As you mopped the floor, you tried convincing yourself this was better than rotting in the prison for who knows how long. You just wanted to go back to bed and let your poor back rest, but it was still only the afternoon. Sighing, you stepped towards the water bucket to dip the mop inside, accidentally knocking the bucket in the process. You deadpanned, tears forming in your eyes. This castle brought nothing but bad luck. 

You cringed when the soapy water soaked into the long red carpet that led up to the King's and Queen's thrones. You turned around in horror when you heard the doors to the great hall open, slipping and falling to your ass. The fact that it was the prince that opened the doors only made things worse. 

"Are you okay there?" A red-haired man asked, stepping forward. 

"M' fine." You mumbled, slipping down again when you tried standing again. 

"Looks like someone's having a great time," The prince snickered. If he wasn't a prince you'd have slapped him in the face to wipe away that mean smirk. You scowled at him, stopping when you saw a hand in front of your face. It was the red-haired man looking down at you with a warm grin. You noticed he had interesting sharp teeth. You put your hand in his, letting him hoist you up.

He inspected your face for a second and then looked at Bakugo, raising an eyebrow. You were the very same girl Kirishima saw bump into Bakugo yesterday. He was sure Bakugo said that you were a pickpocket, then what were you doing here in the servant's attire?

"Go get someone else to clean it since you clearly can't," Bakugo ordered. You clenched your jaw at him, grabbing a fistful of your dress. Why did he have to be so mean and harsh with his words? You would have loved to hit his head with the mop but knew better than to give in to your intrusive thoughts. You stormed past him and got some rags to clean up the mess you made.

Once Kirishima was sure you were out of earshot, he turned to Bakugo, "Why is she here, prince?" 

"Serving three months in the castle for stealing, hurting five guards and being a brat," Bakugo replied in a matter-of-fact tone. 

"Couldn't you have put her to prison instead?"

"Tch, are you trying to tell me what to do?" 

"No, my prince." 

Bakugo sighed, turning his back to Kirishima, eyes plastered to the floor, "Her family has been struggling with basic necessities," he said after a moment of silence. "I learnt that her father had a fabric business before the war started, but his shop burnt down during the war. He hasn't been working ever since."

Kirishima blinked at Bakugo, baffled he had delved so deep into someone's background. "A lot of people are still suffering even though it's been years." He said.

"Yeah," Bakugo agreed. "She lives in a pretty shitty neighbourhood, too, now."

"Is there something that can be done to help?" Kirishima asked.

"I've already done what I could." Bakugo grunted, "They ain't gotta worry about rations. I talked to Father about it, and he agreed to send monthly rations to the entire neighbourhood."

"That's nice," Kirishima smiled. He had a feeling you not only stole Bakugo's money at the weekend market yesterday but also accidentally stole his heart.

Tags: @colouringfrogssittinginleaves @zaiban2989

[kaizokuou-ni-naru]

So. Hear 5. Nika. Loony Tunes Luffy, if you will. Tell us your thoughts on him and any potential meta? 👀 I’ve been aching to hear it from you since we first saw him go Full Silly Boy.

it's hard to answer this, because i have so many thoughts. i'm just going to try and start from the biggest points and move down.

i like gear five a lot, and i think this development feels very appropriate as a culmination of both luffy's character and the themes of one piece as a whole because of how it interacts with three extremely dominant motifs that have reoccurred throughout the story: freedom, laughter, and the sun.

from the very beginning of the story, luffy has acted, in small ways and big, as an agent of complete freedom. from his first meeting with coby to his breakout at impel down to the liberation of wano, what luffy does is destroy systems that control and oppress, if only because they are in his way. every strawhat is somehow trapped and held back from pursuing their own dreams when they meet luffy, and he frees them all, along with hundreds of others along the way, whether he's inspiring shirahoshi to venture outside or crushing yamato's manacles. his talent for this has always seemed almost preternatural.

luffy is not necessarily a benevolent person; he doesn't care much about helping people in the abstract. he's selfish. he values freedom for freedom's own sake, not because of any greater moral convictions. he doesn't think much about the negative knock-on effects of things like causing a mass breakout at impel down, and he doesn't really go around seeking out downtrodden and oppressed people to free out of a charitable or selfless instinct, nor does he really do anything because it's the right thing to do. he's dismissive of the idea that he might be a hero.

but because he is a completely uncontrollable free agent, and he doesn't really want anything but for himself and everyone he cares about to be completely free, he constantly collides with the systems of oppression that control his world, and when those collisions happen, it is the systems that fail, time and time again, because oppressive systems always do eventually. they can't withstand the light of day. and because he lives completely confidently and unapologetically, he is constantly inspiring others to do the same.

so by the time we are told about nika for the first time, we already know that what nika is said to do is what we've seen luffy doing for more than a thousand chapters: he frees people, and inspires them, and makes them laugh.

i also find luffy-as-nika to be very interesting and thematically appropriate when positioned in opposition to the various antagonists in one piece who have declared themselves to be gods, frequently some of its most tyrannical and oppressive villains- enel, the celestial dragons, doflamingo. all enslave and imprison people, robbing them of their freedom.

nika is a god of slaves, and a creature of liberation. the natural enemy, as rosinante might say, of that sort of megalomaniacal 'god.'

one piece has also consistently connected the theme of freedom, as embodied through luffy, with the sun since very early on. the sun pirates, former slaves, used the symbol of the sun to wipe away the brand of the celestial dragons. (and aren't i curious to know what jinbei might know about nika- he never did answer who's who's question about it.) the fishmen more broadly view the sun as something to be reached when they are truly free. on wano, the coming dawn is understood as the coming liberation. impel down and the florian triangle, places of indefinite imprisonment, are lightless dungeons where the sun doesn't reach. the sun is freedom.

and luffy has always been thoroughly sun associated, from the visual of his hat to his origin on dawn island in the east blue, to his ship, the thousand sunny.

finally, one piece has always placed a great deal of emphasis on smiles and laughter (laugh tale, joy boy, roger laughed, etc)- but that joy must be real. it can't be forced. we're told again and again, through koala, dressrosa's toys, and most obviously the victims of the failed SMILE fruits, that to force someone to smile, denying them the right to cry, is nothing less than an atrocity. people can't be forced to be happy- they should be happy because they're free.

luffy in gear five is laughing nigh-constantly, but it's just because he's having so much fun. unlike the victims of the SMILE fruits, his endless joy is genuine, because in this form, he is completely free- nobody can stop him, and nobody can control him. as he says himself, he can do whatever he wants.

i know that some people felt this moment was in some way a deus ex machina, but it just didn't feel that way to me, because of how well it plays on the story's established themes and trajectory, as well as concepts like devil fruit awakening having been established hundreds of chapters back.

luffy is the sun, the sun is freedom, freedom is joy. i think it makes total sense.

[atzfilm]

— 『 𝐖𝐎𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐋; 𝐨𝐭8 』 [m.list]

— 𝚠𝚘𝚗 • 𝚍𝚎𝚛 • 𝚠𝚊𝚕𝚕, adjective. having someone who serves as a pillar in your life, who offers a sturdy place to lean in times of trouble. somebody you find yourself thinking about constantly and are completely infatuated with.

❝humans were such strange creatures. wretched in their mere existence. none of the eight were ever truly interested in them until they found you. they just find it strange that despite their status and rank, you'd rather spend time with your lover. that isn't much of a problem, though. one they can fix with ease.❞

〘ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ, ᴍʏᴛʜ, ꜱᴍᴜᴛ, ꜰᴀᴇʀɪᴇꜱ〙

— note: this is a yandere fic. sensitive topics such as manipulation, gaslighting, murder, and other topics involved with the genre. please heed the warnings and read this work of fiction while keeping this in mind. mxm is often referenced in this fiction

FIC WARNINGS: main character death, murder, manipulation, blood, blood drinking, torture references, dark magic, kidnapping. this series is very dark, if you're uncomfortable with the subjects listed do not read. warnings will change but be listed in each chapter. there is no tag list for this series.

character sheets | survival guide | teaser 1 | teaser 2 |

VOLUME ONE

「chapter one;」

— seonghwa was the first.

「chapter two;」

— it was only proper that wooyoung were the second.

「chapter three;」

— third times the charm, as yunho says.

「chapter four;」

— better than last, mingi supposed.

「chapter five;」

— fifth in age and meeting, san mused.

「chapter six;」

— yeosang dreamt of this moment.

「chapter seven;」

— despite his eagerness, jongho was only a step above the bottom.

「chapter seven point five;」

— the leader has failed.

「chapter eight;」

— the leader was often last.

「chapter nine;」

— manipulation is key to love, so they say.

「chapter ten;」

— humans were born to fall, after all.

[animasolaoriginal]

I n f a t u a t e d ♦️FIVE

CHAPTER ONE◾TWO◾THREE◾FOUR FIVE SIX◾SEVEN◾EIGHT◾NINE◾️TEN ELEVEN

She's been such a good girl for him, so he "rewards" her by taking his sweet time with her, and it doesn't matter that she isn't exactly conscious for it, not to him anyway. She'll wake up soon enough, he'll make sure of it. It'll be a night to remember.

ruthless nightclub owner ❌ innocent young woman with a crush

WARNING: NSFW! Explicit sexual content. Age gap. Size difference. Dubcon elements. Dom/sub dynamic. Somnophilia. First time. Vaginal sex. Dacryphilia. Rough sex. (For more tags, check it on AO3!) // WORDS: 5.2k

FOUR 🟥 FIVE 🟥 SIX

She fell asleep under his ministrations, her soft breaths fanning over his face before he turns her head to the side and presses his lips to her ear. “You're mine now,” he whispers into her unconscious mind as he slips his fingers from her tight cunt.

He rolls her onto her back, body pliant with sleep, and pushes her (his) shirt up to expose her small breasts. His big hands cup them gently, knead them, palms rubbing up and down until he feels her nipples harden. Then he leans over her and closes his lips around one of them, sucking softly, tongue flicking against her sensitive bud, teeth grazing her skin, her taste filling his mouth. She's shivering slightly, but doesn't wake up.

Once her tits are glistening in his saliva, he moves his hands down her sides and slips her panties over her hips, carefully removing them as they bunch around her ankles. It's almost strange to have this much restraint. He could just fuck her raw, without preparation, rip her clothes off, with no care in the world like he usually does, but the girl in front of him deserves better. She's been really good to him – well, mostly.

It still angers him that she tried to clean herself of him. But it's his own fault, he didn't put up any ground rules. He'll have to do that tomorrow. She has to understand her purpose, her role. And he'll make sure she does.

Once her panties are off, he pushes the shirt over her head, putting both clothing items on the nightstand. The sight of his cum caked into the fabric makes him smile. Time to give her more. He grabs her thighs and pries them apart, then positions himself between them on his knees, pulling her legs over his thighs. She stirs a little, smacking her lips, breathing deeply. He watches her in the semi-darkness of the room.

Such a perfect little creature, so pure, so beautiful. His hands move back to her breasts, rubbing over them, savoring the feel of her soft skin and hard buds. His eyes trail along her body, take in every detail. She breathes against his hands, her heart beating steadily in her moving chest. Her stomach flutters slightly. He leans over her, hands on either side of her slim shoulders and presses a kiss to her forehead. “You'll be a good girl for me, won't you?” he hums against her, inhaling deeply, breathing her in.

Then he leans back and grabs her waist, large hands splayed around her body, almost circling it completely, pulling her closer, his eyes moving down to her cute little cunt. He grinds her pelvis against his groin, his cock thickening at the feel of her wetness through the fabric of his sweatpants. Holding her with one hand, he moves the other to push his pants down enough to free his erection, gripping it firmly, slapping it playfully against her mound.

As he does, he looks at her, tempted to wake her up because he wants to see her face when he enters her for the first time, wants to see the pain and discomfort, but also the lust burning in her eyes, the pleasure growing within her. It almost makes him want to pull back, leave her be, but if the angry throbbing of his dick is any indication, it's too late for that.

He'll just have to fuck her again when she's conscious, the second first time, no problem. There'll be plenty opportunities to see her eyes roll back, to hear her pained little screams. Licking his lips, he focuses back on prodding his cockhead between her folds, rubbing up and down, gathering her slick. His heart is beating faster when he lines himself up, the tip pressed to her entrance, a little force, a little push, a little tug to her body, and he slips into her, her walls swallowing him almost hungrily.

A whimper escapes her, a soft little hum in the air, and he looks up. There's a furrow between her brows, but her eyes remain closed. He rolls his hips against her, slowly, carefully, so fucking gentle like he's never fucked a woman before. He has no idea why he is treating her like that. Well, it's the least he can do after ravaging her ass or ultimately deciding to fuck her in her sleep after all. He can at least try to be gentle. And he is, inch by inch his cock slips deeper, as he nudges against her tense muscles, pries them open, makes them give way so he can take root inside her.

His hands are on her waist, pulling her towards him in the same rhythm he pushes against her. A groan slips from his lips. She's so fucking tight, so warm and wet, and basically choking his girth as he sinks in all the way. All the way isn't even half the length of his cock, but he knows she'll accommodate him better once she's more aroused. Holding her there for a moment, his hand moves to her stomach, pressing gently, trying to feel himself through her soft skin, before his thumb moves lower and starts drawing tight circles around her clit.

She moans in her sleep, cute little noises tumbling from her parted lips, a bit of drool gathering in the corner. Her body shivers, a tiny jerk of her hips, a twitch to her thighs. He keeps going, rubbing that sensitive bundle of nerves until he feels her tensing up. That's when he starts moving within her. Slowly pulling back to push in again, back and forth, in and out, slow and steady. His own body is tense, the hand on her waist gripping her hard enough to leave bruises. He's holding back so fucking much.

How easy it would be to just pound into her, make her bounce on the mattress, hard, fast snaps of his hips, deep plunges, until she wakes up screaming. But no, he refrains, fights the urges, takes it easy. He can do that to her another time, once she's more accustomed to him. Something to look forward to.

He sets an even pace, pushing in and out, every time slipping a little deeper. Her walls tighten around him, squeezing him, but the more he pummels against them, the more they seem to suck him in. His breaths are rough, the hand on her clit as relentless as his steady thrusts. The restraint is slipping. And he can't help it, he pounds those last inches into her with force, desperate to be buried to the hilt, to feel all of her, to become one.

A particularly hard plunge makes her whimper, and her body stirs awake beneath him. He sees her eyes fluttering open, confusion on her flushed face, quickly turning into discomfort. He leans over her, his hand on her cheek, kissing her softly. “Shh, it's all good, baby,” he whispers, showering her with gentle brushes of his lips. Her voice is a quiet hum, no coherent words able to form within her clouded mind.

Her small hands find his sides, move up to his back, fingernails scraping over the fabric of his shirt before she claws at it, holding on with more strength than he has expected of her in this state. He braces himself on his elbows, pelvis pinning her down, cock sheathed deep within her, hands tangled in her hair as he captures her mouth for a hopefully distracting kiss. Her mewls are muffled, and he swallows the sharp gasps she issues when he starts moving his hips again.

Up and down, in and out, tight walls clinging to his shaft, crown prodding against her cervix with every deep thrust. She whines against his lips, but he only kisses her harder as he picks up the pace until he's pounding into her with barely any restraint left. “Such a good girl,” he breathes into her. “So tight and wet for me...” Tears fill her big, shocked eyes, and he brushes his lips against her cheek, kissing them away as they start rolling. “You can take me so well, can't you?”

His words seem to soothe her, she's quiet beneath him, watching him out of hooded, blurry eyes, her cute face a mask of silent pain. His hips snap against her, her legs bouncing on either side of his waist. His rhythm is brutal, her wetness squelches out with every plunge, wet skin slapping against wet skin, a cacophony of sounds that drive him crazy. Combined with the quiet little whimpers she dares to let out, it's the perfect soundscape.

He breathes hard into her, moving his tongue needily against hers, tasting her, swallowing her noises, sucking her in. Making her his. His head feels lighter, a pleasant dizziness coursing through him, while his stomach tenses up, balls tightening. He moves even faster, holding her head between his large hands, as he arches his body into hers, slam after slam, stab after stab, deep and hard and fast, desperate for release, desperate to fill her, to claim her.

She cries out, fingers digging into his shirt, eyes squeezed shut, tears flowing freely. He changes the angle slightly, making sure to rut against her clit with every thrust, and it's the combination of that and the constant bullying of her cervix that make her scream, a shrill little sound that feeds the beast within him, while her body convulses beneath him, hips bucking up, legs tense, wrapping around his waist, toes curled, feet digging into his lower back. She comes hard, he can feel and hear and smell her release as it squirts out of her uncontrollably, coating his cock, slapping between them as he keeps fucking her through her orgasm.

She goes silent then, stiffening, body trembling. He presses his lips to hers, tastes her tears, keeps going. Her cunt clamps down on him, and he grunts into her at the sensation. Her whines are quiet, a little hum in the charged air around them, barely audible over the loud squelching and slapping noises. And then he feels it, his own release. A few more deep and hard and fast stabs, and he stills inside her, buried as deep as possible when his cock throbs and twitches, pumping spurt after spurt of hot cum into her tight little body.

He moves his head, presses his face into the crook of her neck, breathes her in as he relaxes on top of her, rapid breaths against her pulse, lazy kisses to her skin. Her hands fall to her sides, her body going limp beneath him. He's probably heavy on her, pushing her into the mattress, but he doesn't care. He doesn't want to move, wants to savor the moment of pure bliss, her wet warmth engulfing him, squeezing him, milking him for the last drop.

Closing his eyes, he feels himself drifting into a much needed sleep. There's a comfortable blackness, pulling him in, holding him in the void – until there are soft little gasps and breathless sobs that bring him back.

He stirs, inhaling deeply, blinking the fatigue away as he realizes he's still lying on top of the small girl, crushing her into the bed, cock still sheathed within her, her tight muscles gripping him so much he feels himself harden once more.

The noises that woke him make him turn his head as he leans up slightly, resting on his forearms, looking at the flushed face so close to him. She's crying, big heavy tears rolling down her cheeks, lips wet and trembling, a little bit of snot running from her nose, quiet hiccoughs shaking her tiny frame. He frowns, she meets his gaze, sniffles, bites her lip, blinks quickly. He moves his hands to cup her face, thumbs wiping at the wetness on her cheeks.

“Shh,” he coos. “It's alright.” She only cries harder, averting her eyes, more sobs tumbling from her lips. He leans down and kisses her, swallows those noises as he slips his tongue into her mouth. She stiffens, but then slowly kisses him back, hesitant motions, quivering lips against his. “Does it hurt?” he asks against her, looking down at her.

She gives a jerky nod, gasping softly. He exhales loudly and leans back, pushed up on his arms, then slowly, carefully, moves his hips back, pulling out of her. She's so tight, tighter than before, possibly too dry for him to extract himself from her without giving her more pain. He looks down at her, a hard gaze, telling her to be strong. She watches him, pressing her lips together. Grabbing her waist, he pushes her off, and she winces when he slips out finally. There's a thin line of blood on his glistening cock, more seeping out, mixed with his cum, dripping down onto the sheets.

He doesn't care, plops down beside her, pulls her into him. She's stiff as a board as he embraces her, crying and shivering. He covers her face with kisses, holds her gently, rubs her back reassuringly, shushing her when she tries to protest. Eventually she relaxes against him, curling up beside him, knees pressed into his stomach, face buried in his chest. He pulls the covers over them and closes his eyes, too tired to worry about anything else.

He wakes to the sound of the toilet flushing. Stirring, rolling onto his back, he stretches, cranks one eye open, sees that it's still dark out. The sheets are bundled up around him, a little nest where the girl has been. He hears water running, then shuffling footsteps. He moves one arm over his eyes, inhaling deeply as she returns to the room and hesitantly slips back into bed.

The urge to grab her and pull her against him is strong, but he gives her space for now. She stays on the other side of the bed, leaves quite the gap between them as she drags the covers over herself and curls up again, a ball of hair and limbs. “How bad is it?” he grumbles from beneath his arm, his voice low and raspy, heavy from sleep.

She flinches, he can feel it, a shuddering gasp humming through the night. “Hurts,” she whispers, voice muffled by how she's draped the sheets around her body.

“Are you still bleeding?”

“No,” she replies quietly.

He's glad. She's just sore then, muscles still adjusting to the unknown sensations. It'll get better, he wants to tell her, though he isn't sure about that. With how much smaller she is, there will always be a discomfort, a certain pain, it'll be a part of their lovemaking. But the more they do it, the better she'll adjust, get used to it, maybe even learn to enjoy it. He can only hope, because he won't stop fucking her any time soon.

Rolling onto his side, facing her, he extends his hand and grips the sheets bunched up around her. Slowly, but with determination, he pulls her towards him. She stiffens, protests, grips the edge of the bed, but he's stronger, and she ends up pressed to his chest, curved back molding to the shape of him as he folds himself around her, holding her, arm slipping beneath her to pull her even closer.

“Relax,” he tells her, voice harsher than he's intended.

Eventually she does, melting into him, a few stifled sobs falling from her lips. He breathes against her, closes his eyes, one hand slipping beneath the covers, searching for her heat. She lets out a whine when his fingers brush between her legs, but she doesn't fight it, lets him caress her, fingertips moving over soft warm skin. She has not re-dressed, has accepted waking up naked. Progress.

His hand rubs over her mound, and when it slips lower, fingers dipping between her folds, she squirms, grabs at his arm, tries to pull him off. “No!” she wails loudly, fighting after all.

It's a sudden rush of adrenaline that crashes through him, something dark clouding his mind, and a moment later he has her pinned to her stomach, hand on her nape, holding her down, leaning over her with a growl. “You don't get to say no anymore,” he tells her in a low rumble of his voice, breath fanning over her ear. She sobs beneath him, shoulders shaking. “I will decide for you now. Understood?”

She only whines. He tightens the grip on her neck, makes her flinch. “Y-yes...”

“What?” he rasps, fingers pressing against her throat.

“Yes, sir,” she cries out, body shuddering uncontrollably.

He lets go of her, leans back abruptly, one hand on her hip, dragging it up, the other slipping into his pants to free his cock. His knee pushes between her legs, nudges them apart. Pumping his length, he lines it up with her entrance, staring down at her tiny form in front of him. She's sobbing pathetically. He knows it's cruel what he does, but she has to learn, get used to the pain and to him, taking her whenever he wants, doing whatever with her, no matter how sore she may be.

And quite frankly, there is a part of him that enjoys seeing her like this, struggling, defeated, hurt. Her tears do something to him, something he's not particularly proud of, but it's there, growling in the back of his mind, hungry for more. Following that urge, he pushes against her, one hand on her hip as he pulls her towards him, onto him, and his cock sinks inside her tight cunt, immediately gripped by her walls, as the girl tenses up and cries out helplessly.

He rolls his hips against her cushioned rear, pumps into her, inch by inch, ignores her cries (sucks up her cries, inhales them, feeds off them), and doesn't wait to let her adjust before he hammers into her hard and rough, feeling his cock thickening inside her, low growls slipping from his throat, animalistic sounds fitting the animalistic way he treats her. She whines and whimpers, hands white-knuckling the sheets, back arched, face buried in the pillow.

She takes it better than he has expected, or maybe she is too overwhelmed to do anything but take him, too pained, too shocked, too defeated to fight anymore. And somehow he's surprised when she starts moaning, muffled, but it's clearly moans that tumble from her lips. He keeps his brutal pace, ramming into her, cock scraping over her tense walls, plunging deep, tip squished against her bruised cervix. His fingers dig into her soft flesh, adding to the bruises he's left before.

He comes fast and hard, the anger roaring within him adding to the tension, that need for release, to prove a point. He slows, gives her deep and hard thrusts that coax shrill squeaks out of her, and that final plunge makes her wail, body convulsing against his, her cunt clamping down on him hard while he empties himself inside her, twitching and throbbing, his drawn-out groans echoing through the room.

Pulling out immediately after his orgasm subsides, he slaps her ass, one time, two times, watches her squirm and whine, observes how his cum drips out of her as her pussy clenches with every slap. Leaning over her, he grabs her throat, large hand closing around her neck, pulling her up against him. She stiffens, her sobs cut off as he squeezes his hand around her. His lips brush against her cheek, the taste of salt overpowering. More tears roll against his tongue as he starts to lick them up.

“Never tell me no again, understood?” he whispers then, low and dangerous, pressing his cheek against hers.

She jerks her chin, a barely there nod, and he releases her throat which causes her to fall flat on her face, a little yelp escaping her as she struggles to find her composure again. He leans away, his hand finding her reddened ass cheek once more with a reverberating smack, before he slips off the bed and into the bathroom.

“Come get cleaned up,” he calls over his shoulder, listening intently, smiling darkly when he hears her gasping and shuffling off the bed, hectically following him.

They spend the rest of the night actually sleeping. Despite the excessive workout that was disciplining her, he wakes up well rested, feeling her stirring in his arms, the sunlight falling through the large windows, bathing the room in a brightness that hurts his eyes. He grunts, burying his face in her hair, arms tightening around her. He feels her small hands on his arm, not pushing him away, just holding on, leaning into him.

She's pliant against him, soft and warm, soundly breathing. He inhales deeply, her scent filling his nostrils. It's a strange little intimate moment, waking up next to someone, a very rare occurrence for him. But it is something he could get used to. Though as sweet as it may be, he can't control his body's urges, specifically the stirring of his cock when she moves against his groin. He grinds back at her, warm skin against warm skin (he must have tossed his clothes somewhere during the adventures of the night), a soft little butt pressed to his hardening dick. Tempting. Oh so tempting.

His hand slips between her legs, a motion almost as familiar as breathing by now, and she lets him, inhales deeply, rubs her hand over the arm still wrapped around her body. His fingers slip through her folds, gentle rubs to get the slick flowing, and when he deems her wet enough, he shifts behind her, softly nudges her leg up as he slips his cock between her thighs.

He's still sleepy, no matter how hard he is, and he almost opts to just fuck her thighs, glide in and out between her soft flesh, but it won't be enough, he just knows it, so he presses against her entrance, shushes her gently when she takes a pained little inhale. He is more careful, though, slowly eases himself into her tight warmth, small rolls of his hips, kisses along her shoulder as she squirms a little against him.

“Such a good girl,” he rasps, and she mewls in response, melting into him.

He keeps his lazy pace, shallow thrusts, in and out, always a little deeper, easing her tense muscles. It's another thing he's not used to, to take his time, to give her time. It's usually just hard fucking, an excessive display of strength and dominance until the woman beneath him breaks down crying, and then he still continues until he is fully satisfied. It's different with her, the small girl who takes his cock so well even after he's been so brutal with her. She's already adjusting. He's almost proud.

Kissing her neck, sucking and nibbling along her pulse, he keeps pushing in and out, slow and steady, a lazy morning fuck, a nice thing to start the day with. She's moaning quietly, fingers digging into his arm, her body still except for the little movement of her hips as she meets his gentle thrusts. His hand is on her stomach, soft presses whenever he slips particularly deep. She winces when he hits her cervix, and he can only imagine the pain, having seen many women limp away after a rough session with him.

He tries to be gentle, tries not to go too deep, shallow little snaps of his hips, slowly getting faster, a quick rutting as his stomach tenses. His hand slips lower, rubs at her clit, feels it throbbing against his touch. She lets out a series of whimpers and moans, mewls and whines, and when he nears the edge, he increases his ministrations, nudging her hard nub, causing her to stiffen, to shake, to cry out when she comes around his cock, cunt clamping down hard, pulling him right along over the edge.

He grunts into her ear, presses open-mouthed kisses along her neck as he feels himself throbbing, balls twitching, his warm seed filling her up all over again. She clings to him, rapid breaths, body convulsing, shifting against him, succumbing to the sensations.

Eventually, he relaxes against her, stays inside for a moment longer, feeling her walls clenching and unclenching. His heart slows down, and he starts to slip out, move back, give her space, but she grabs him, pushes back against him, evidently urges him to stay where he is.

His laugh is a soft little grunt, and he kisses her cheek, leans over as he slips in fully again. She turns her head to him, watches him out of hooded, glistening eyes. A sight to die for. Pure submission. Unadulterated need. He smiles at her, observes the blood rushing into her cheeks, the shy twitch of her lips. Pressing her into him, he leans down and kisses her softly, lazily, with his tongue asking to be let into her mouth. She opens it and meets him, a soft little dance as she kisses him back.

He holds her, lips moving against hers, his hips rolling in the rhythm of her tongue sliding around his. She mewls softly, clenches around him, her body shivering. The sweet moment is almost ruined when he feels the urge to push in harder, bully her bruises, get himself fully hard to fill her once again, but it's the way she touches his face that makes him pause, look at her, marvel at the innocence in her eyes. A girl living through the horrors of his unbridled lust. A needy little thing caught in his web, dependent, subservient, but determined to endure.

The urge to fuck her harder turns into an urge to kiss her harder, and he captures her mouth with fervor, swallows those cute sounds, tastes her, devours her. His head is spinning, lungs burning, hands itching, and in the end he leans back abruptly, takes deep breaths, squares his shoulders, slips out of and away from her, straight into the bathroom. He hears her sighing and shuffling on the bed.

After a quick (cold) shower and his usual morning routine, he re-enters the bedroom and walks towards the closet, finding her still lying between the sheets, cuddled up, eyes open and observant as she traces his every move. He winks at her as he passes her. Her giggle is muffled, but it's there. Cute and innocent. He dresses for the day, another suit, though he keeps the jacket on the hanger for now. He won't leave the penthouse, won't leave her, just has to work in his office for a while.

Once he's done, he returns to the bed, fixing the buttons on his shirt, looking at her. She meets his gaze. He tilts his head towards the bathroom. “Your turn,” he says quietly, and she nods and quickly slips from under the covers to slip into the bathroom, legs shaking, her bare feet tapping over the wooden floor. It might be habit (she lived alone if he remembers correctly) or an underlying wish to please, but she leaves the door open, just a gap, but still a very tempting gesture.

Instead of following her though, he goes back into the walk-in closet and picks her an outfit to wear. Not much to choose from, but he'll take her shopping someday to add to it. He decides on a short little sundress, bright yellow, thin straps, short skirt, flowing fabric. He's tempted to make her go commando (they are alone after all), but then grabs a black lace thong to go with it. Putting the clothes on the couch, he turns to the bed, frowning slightly.

What a mess. He feels almost bad seeing the blood stains on the white sheets, but in the end he doesn't care, balls them up and dumps them in the laundry basket, grabbing a new set to quickly make the bed. He usually has people cleaning up after him, but he's canceled their services the moment he decided to keep the girl. Maybe he will teach her how to keep the place clean.

When she returns from the bathroom, he's sitting on the armrest of the couch, swiping through his phone. She's wrapped in a towel, nervously stepping into the room. He looks up, tilts his head, raises only an eyebrow, and she's already losing the towel, slowly dropping it, one hand clutched around it as she exposes herself to him.

“Good girl,” he laughs, extending a hand to her. She smiles shyly as she walks towards him, a little limp in her step, putting her small hand into his larger one. He pulls her onto his lap, nuzzling his nose into her damp hair, inhaling deeply. She squirms slightly, shifts to find a comfortable position. He's almost tempted to leave her alone for the day, let her heal and rest, but he's promised her something he has not forgotten about.

Her eyes widen only a little when he slips the plug from his pocket, holding it up to her. She swallows, licks her lips, then bites them, only to slowly open her mouth, tongue flat and extended.

“Such a quick learner, I'm impressed,” he whispers and puts the metal object on her tongue, lets her lick around it, pushes it a little deeper into her mouth. It's a bit bigger than the last one, but she'll manage, she's had his cock in there for crying out loud. By now, it's only for her own comfort, to make her get used to the idea of having something up her cute little ass. She holds his gaze as she coats the thing with her saliva, focuses on him, seemingly dissociating.

When he pulls the plug from her mouth with a wet pop, she stands up, inhales sharply and leans over his lap, elbows digging into the side of his thigh. He caresses her plump rear, observes the reddened skin turning white when he touches it before the blood rushes back into her cheeks. He moves his finger along the cleft, teases her puckered hole, slips lower, dips it between her folds and right into her entrance.

She winces, a little whine in her voice, but she stays still. He moves his digit in and out, gathers her wetness, feels the grip of her pussy, then pulls out and pokes at her sphincter, she stiffens, breathes harder, but he keeps going, lathers her tense muscles with her own wetness. Without prolonging the moment any further, he presses the cold metal, slightly warmed from her saliva, against her hole, then watches with satisfaction how her muscles swallow the plug, until only the bejeweled base pokes out, holding it in place.

She didn't even whimper.

He caresses her tender ass, slips his hands higher, brushes against her back, between her shoulder blades, then closes his fingers around her nape and nudges her to stand up. She does, her legs are shaking, and there are a few tears caught in her lashes. She's trying to be tough. What a brave little thing. He pulls her between his legs and cups her face, wipes beneath her eyes, leans in and kisses her deeply.

“My good girl,” he coos softly, and she smiles against his lips. “Get dressed now. Come into the kitchen when you're done.”

He stands up, pushing her away gently, and walks past her, ignoring the strain in his pants. If she keeps being this cute and obedient, he'll have a really hard time getting anything done, when all he wants to do is bend her over any surface and fuck her hard and deep until she gives him those sweet, sweet tears.

FOUR 🟥 FIVE 🟥 SIX

End notes: Well, wasn't this a rollercoaster, hm? Certainly a night to remember. We continue with a certain theme here, rough sex ending in fluffy sex, because despite enjoying writing these fucked-up hardcore scenes, I need balance in my life.

If you're still with me after these last chapters, I want to say: thank you! I appreciate you for taking the time to come along this certainly bumpy ride!

Thanks again for reading! Next chapter on Monday!

TAG LIST: @qmsvpx @cyan1decandy @bimbos-are-angels

AO3 / / / MASTERLIST

CHAPTER / / / ONE◾TWO◾THREE◾FOUR◾FIVE◾

SIX◾SEVEN◾EIGHT◾NINE◾️TEN◾ELEVEN

[dhl-au]

Master-post:

Main blog: @ark-fork Support me: [🔥Boosty] - requests ✅

This post is too big, so, just press <keep reading> button and enjoy! Old tags: The horror circus au, thc au

The Amusement park

Tutorial area: [Unlocked] The park [The park is full of attractions, abandoned a long time ago.] [The danger inside - Mannequins that can move if the lights are off. Happily that there's always bright.] The Circus tent [A dark circus tent that has no bright light inside.] [The danger inside - two clown puppets whom a tutorial encounters that Pomni uses to teach the player how to fight. A dark maze where Pomni plays hide and seek (under the tent)] Boss: Pomni [immortal]

Side chapter: The attractions area [there are many attractions, all of which are broken and not working, where you can see a lot of old mannequins.] [The danger inside - Mannequins, light cut off] The carousel [12 horses, mainly unicorns, pegasus, and common horses.] [The danger - these encounters can move and try to kill you if you come too close.] Boss: [̵͎̜͕̊ͅḐ̸̧̞̦̯͐Ĕ̷̪̘̑L̷̮̭͇̮̏̑̓̓ͅÊ̴̺͊͗̊͝ͅT̵̖̭͙̜͗͐́̕Ę̸̛͙͎͌̏͌͜D̴̢̨̢̬̚]̵̝̈́̉̀̕

Greek drama comedy pantheon

Chapter 1: [Unlocked] The pantheon [The giant ancient Greek pantheon that is based on Greek attributes like mazes with common myth encounters, traps, and puzzles.] [The danger inside - Minotaur, soldiers, dark in location] The Amphitheater [A large arena with a stage where operas were. Mostly destroyed.] [The danger inside - traps, gladiators, common myth encounters] Boss: Gangle

Dollhouse

Chapter 2: [Locked] The garden [The big garden with a dollhouse in the center, abandoned and broken giant villa with three floors. The garden is desolated and filled with dangerous encounters.] [The danger inside - Dolls, spiders.] The house [Giant villa, abandoned, broken, made in dark-colored wood and stone. ] [The danger inside - Dolls, bugs, traps, old floors.] Boss: Ragatha

Playground Meat Factory

Chapter 3: [Locked] The Factory [An abandoned meat factory for a long time, but with the mechanisms still working. There are many gigantic rooms here, which have complex mechanisms] [The danger inside - traps, puzzles, encounters "workers" and mechanisms] Boss: Zooble

Wonderland Nightmare-land

Chapter 4: [Locked] The forest [Huge forest full of mushroom trees, trees. Some of it can remind of human silhouettes.] [The danger inside Wild creatures (animals mostly), Card guards, flowers with faces, living trees.] Mini-boss: Cheshire cat The Madman's house [A small house in the shape of a hat is unremarkable at first glance. However, the inside of it is much larger and consists of long corridors with many doors. The location is full of scratches of nails, broken portraits, and furniture.] [The danger inside - Jax] Boss: Jax

Chess castle

Chapter 5: [Locked] The chess desk [A giant chessboard inside a majestic castle divided in half by two colors - old, slightly faded platinum and dark copper. There is weak lighting around the field from torches attached to holders.] [The danger inside - the chess. The Pale King] Boss: Kinger

[Locations gates] [The gate is giant and looks heavy because of the forged steel. Each gate has its unique tag belonging to one or another boss of the location behind these gates.] [Five gates in summary]

COMICS:

[redacted]

MASTER POST REF SHEETS:

Pre horror: [dont turm on the light!]

Game stuff: [cover]; [chapters menu]; [...] About: [DLC?]; [non canon DLC]; [winter DLC]; [...]

[Jax]

[Kinger]

[Queenie]

Post horror:

Size line: [additional]

3 | 6 Main Bosses

[shegatsby]

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen

Feyd Rautha requests;  feyd rautha x fremen reader! Soulmate situation where feyd has dreams about reader and is UTTERLY OBSESSED:  Oneshot

One Shots: soulmate situation where feyd has dreams about reader and is obssessed: One Two Three

Oneshot: Feyd Rautha reunited with like an aunt figure (or just an older oc/reader), who he's been fascinated by since he was a child.

Love Thy Enemy (Feyd Rautha xAtreidesReader) ; 

 Summary; Y/N Atreides had always been a stranger to the entire galaxy, her bed wasn’t her bed, her home wasn’t her home due to the fact that she was sent to accompany and be sisters with Irulan. She had limited access to her actual family and over the years they grew distant. She thought she would be like Reverend Mother, alone, yet powerful, and soon she would realize that there was no need of being alone when a wild creature had his eyes on her for a long time.

Chapter One  Chapter Two  Chapter Three Chapter Four  Chapter Five   Chapter Six  Chapter Seven Chapter Eight

[minkdelovely]

love and power

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chapter two

“i come loaded with the

safety switch on.”

Alastor x Fem!Reader ; MDNI 18+ ; [y/n] used sparingly ; Alias in Hell is Sylvie

tags/warnings: blood, sensory overload, vomit, implied cannibalism, descriptions of graphic violence, power dynamics, non-consensual touching, valentino sighting, slow burn eventual: smut

word count: 2.5k

author’s note: i just wanted to give a huge shoutout to @hazelfoureyes for being so gracious to let me tag her here as inspo! if you haven’t already, please go check out her work - she’s seriously sooo talented and awoke my need for more interaction between alastor and valentino lol

prelude ; chapter one ; chapter two ; chapter three ; chapter four ; chapter five ; chapter six ; chapter seven ; chapter eight ; chapter nine ; chapter ten: part one ; chapter ten: part two

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Alastor had insisted that you walk back to the hotel, your arm linked under his as he paraded you through the remainder of the city like a proud parent.

You tried to fight feeling grateful for the support since he could have easily teleported you back to the hotel, but you gripped his arm all the same. The adrenaline dump had left you feeling so depleted and all you wanted was to be back in your bed. Snippets of what happened in the alley raced through your mind’s eye, and you shook your head, trying to keep them at bay. Did you really have the capacity to be that enraged? That violent? Apparently you did…

The blood was drying tight on your face, contrasting with the slick, heavy feeling of fabric latching to the skin of your chest. You could feel yourself winding up, overwhelmed and uncomfortable by the mess you were covered in. There wasn’t a part of you that felt clean and you were desperate with the need to remove your dress. Tears blurred the edge of your vision when you fixated on the taste in your mouth, barely managing to pull away from Alastor before you fell to your knees and vomited.

Bile, blood, and… It was the tipping point.

No longer able to hold it back, the sob you released was closer to a scream. What had you done? You couldn’t fight the images flashing in your mind; the sound of screams and flesh tearing, an airway so saturated with blood it bubbled. How it felt when your teeth punctured flesh, no easier than biting into a piece of fruit. Your mouth filling with blood… and swallowing. And that wasn’t all you had swallowed, was it?

It wasn’t until you started frantically tearing at the collar of your dress that Alastor approached from behind you, grabbing your wrists easily in his large hands.

“Now, now, that simply won’t do,” he chided cooly in your ear, radio static gone, his presence large and stable behind you. “I thought a walk might help you to calm down, but at least you managed to save this episode from prying eyes. Be a big girl now and stop crying, we’re nearly home.”

You couldn’t see through the tears as he pulled you up to your feet, his hands releasing you as soon as you were standing. A throb of pain rocked your head and you choked out a final sob, trying to steady your breath as you rubbed your burning, swollen eyes. 

Why was he being so patient with you? He had been in a good mood ever since he found you in the alley, not even bothered by the fact that the clothes you had been sent to pick up were soiled and needed to be returned to the cleaners. And how had he even found you in the first place? Was he following you? 

“Oh, my dear, you look like the stuff of nightmares!” Alastor said in his usual static, not sounding at all sorry for you. Hell, he probably meant it as a compliment. “Remind me to ask what that poor creature did to earn your wrath.”

With that, he hooked your arm again and led you up the hill.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

“What the fuck happened to you?!” Angel shouted from the bar when you entered the lobby. Husk nearly dropped the glass in his hand, but managed to recover, his face pale.

Thankfully, your audience was just the two of them. You wouldn’t have known what to do if everyone had been there to see you in this state. Dread came over you then, thinking of what it will be like to finally stand in front of a mirror. Your empty stomach churned.

“Not to worry, Angel, the blood isn’t hers. Poor thing ran into a bit of trouble running errands, but that’s all been taken care of, hasn’t it?” Alastor cooed, resting his hand on your shoulder as he peered down at you.

“Well don’t just stand there, let her get cleaned up before anyone else sees! Niffty’s gonna have a fucking fit when she finds the mess on that carpet,” Husk said to Alastor, shaking his head in exasperation. 

Alastor’s fingers dug into you at being rebuked, but you were more focused on the muted plop sounds of blood falling to the carpet from the laundry bag. Had it really just been an hour since you had picked it up? You were so tired it was hard to believe that it was still only morning.

“Yeah, don’t worry, toots. We won’t tell no one about your, uh… day out,” Angel said delicately, raising his hand with a suave smile. “Scout’s honor. Though I gotta say, I think you look fuckin’ badass. Whoever it was got what was coming to ’em.”

You huffed out a small laugh, managing to give him a weak smile before Alastor enveloped you both in shadow.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Angel and Husk watched as you and Alastor disappeared, giving themselves a moment until they felt like it was safe enough for them to talk again.

“So… what the actual fuck, am I right?” Angel half-laughed, taking a swig from his glass. “I think she fuckin’ ate somebody.”

Husk hummed, nodding his head slightly in agreement. “Definitely not impossible. I just hope he didn’t put her up to it.”

“You really think he’d do somethin’ like that, Husk? I mean, sure, he’s been bossin’ her around but… forcin’ her to eat someone? Seems extreme.” 

Husk sighed, giving him a defeated look. Angel shook his head, eyebrow peaked in disbelief. Ignoring the phone buzzing in his pocket, he finished his drink.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Despite how much you had been looking forward to it, it felt strange to be back in your room. Everything was the same as how you’d left it, but it almost felt like nothing here belonged to you anymore. The room was so still, quiet except for the sounds of Alastor rooting around in your ensuite bathroom. What he could possibly be looking for, you didn’t know, nor did you really care. You were so tempted to just collapse on the bed…

The shower turned on and you sighed, closing your eyes to enjoy the soothing sound it made. It was a peace short-lived, your eyes flying open when you felt fingers at the back of your neck undo the button of your collar, followed quickly by cool air against your spine as Alastor unzipped you. You stiffened and moved away, turning to face him, bringing your arms up to keep the dress from slipping off your shoulders to the floor.

The rebuttal died in your throat when he laughed, stepping towards you in your retreat.

“Testy, aren’t we? I was merely trying to help, and this is the thanks I get?” 

His eyes narrowed when you moved farther away in response. Would he ever stop toying with you? 

“Alastor, please, I’m too tired for this,” you pleaded, glancing at the bathroom behind you as you fought back a fresh wave of tears. You knew he wouldn’t like it if you started crying again. 

“Which is exactly why I’m trying to help! Surely, you aren’t insinuating that my intentions were anything but courteous?” He said it casually enough but you could feel the threat veiled underneath as he continued his way to you. “Seeing how my clothes need laundering again, I figured you’d want me to take the dress as well. It was a gift, after all.”

“I’ll take it myself,” you tried to say evenly, looking away from him. He was hovering over you now, effectively making you feel small. “And I didn’t think you were—”

He tipped your chin to look up at him and licked the pad of his thumb on his free hand. You stood frozen stiff as he used it to wipe your cheek, not daring to upset him more by pulling away. Somewhere in the back of your mind, the truth of how completely in control he was over you sunk in, killing whatever was left of the hope you had of staying under his radar. Silently, you watched as he brought his thumb back to his mouth, but your breath hitched as he sucked off the residue. The look in his eyes made you want to disappear, and you hoped the tear-streaked mess on your face was able to hide the blush now burning your cheeks.

“Sylvie… shouldn’t you be getting in the shower? Or is wasting water another bad habit of yours?” he said, voice low and face smug.

Without thinking, you jerked your face out of his hand and quickly pulled the dress off, shoving it at his chest. Before he could say another word you were in the bathroom, using all the restraint you had left not to slam the door in his face. Leaning against the door, you could hear him laughing as he made his way out of your room. Finally there was silence, and you slid to the floor with your face in your hands, swallowing against the feeling of your heart in your throat. And worse, you weren’t sure if the tightness in your chest was shame… or something else.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Niffty was already hard at work removing the blood stains in the lobby, mumbling to herself as Alastor passed through to make his way back to Cannibal Town. Making sure to give Husk a knowing, pompous grin, and receiving a scowl in return, he walked out the hotel. Alastor couldn’t recall the last time he had enjoyed himself so much before noon. Whatever else the day had in store he couldn’t know, though it would be tough to beat.

The taste that lingered in his mouth was bordering on cruel, a gamble he wasn’t sure he had properly hedged the bet of. Regret wasn’t something Alastor felt often, if at all, and he would vehemently deny it even if he did. Was it regret he felt at tasting the blood that dried on your face? No. While the blood itself was subpar — it had come from some vile creature, after all — it had been transformed by your skin chemistry and tears, creating a flavor that was robust and surprising. Had it not been for decades of tempering his self-control, Alastor worried briefly in the back of his mind that he might have done something drastic; hence allowing himself just the one taste. And apparently doomed to savor it until opportunity presented itself. 

He couldn’t help passing by the alley as he made his way through the city, unsurprised to see that your victim was still lying there, stripped of clothes and whatever possible valuables he had possessed. It would be at least a week before he recovered from the attack. A thought passed through Alastor’s mind and his antler’s grew in response to the idea, mouth curling up in a fanged, sinister grin. Passersby ran away in horror.

It wasn’t until Alastor walked into the dry cleaners that the armor of his good mood chipped. Of all the fiends in Hell, Valentino was the least of whom he ever expected to run into here. Cannibal Town wasn’t a sanctuary in the true sense, but its culture did manage to deter most of the demons Alastor deemed undesirable. A peace he was not willing to part with. Though clearly someone had tipped Valentino off about how to blend in here, as he was without his gaudy trademark robe, instead donning a shockingly respectable black suit.

Alastor had no grudge with Valentino, he simply just didn’t respect him. Getting sinners to sign themselves over to you in promise of fame was so trite. How Valentino could be proud to call himself an Overlord was a mystery, unless he was truly that shameless. Or more likely, from what Alastor had overheard Angel saying to others in passing, oblivious. Both seemed correct. While Alastor could suffer a fool, anyone who would bend under Vox’s will really wasn’t worthy of his concern or energy. 

Valentino turned at the ringing of the bell over the door, with what could only be described as a shit-eating grin as he took in the sight of The Radio Demon.

“Well fuck me, if it isn’t the big, brave hero! I thought Adam sent you to Super Hell, but I guess you would be too stubborn to die,” Valentino said haughtily, taking a drag off his cigarette. “How’s the wound, flaco?”

Internally Alastor bristled, but he maintained his facade of nonchalance. It wasn’t surprising that the Vees had found out about what happened between him and Adam. Of course it irritated him all the same, considering that the battle between the two of them wasn’t quite public knowledge. For now, all Alastor could do was keep the fact that the Vees knew in his back pocket and work on a plan of action to counteract it, should need arise.

“Wound is a bit strong, Valentino, but as they say: what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger! You’re too kind, inquiring after my health,” Alastor responded jovially, though the smile on his face was cold and menacing. “I must say, I never thought I’d see you here. I didn’t think Cannibal Town would be an ideal place for you to… scout.”

Valentino scoffed through a strained smile. “No shit. There are a lot of kinks out there, but ‘ragtime cannibal freaks’ isn’t one of them.” He paused to take another drag, continuing as he exhaled red smoke, “But this is the only place that can actually get all the stains out of my shit. Looks like I’m not alone in that department. Busy morning?” He gave a pointed look at the bloody laundry bag hanging off Alastor’s arm.

“You could say that,” Alastor teased, finally making his way up to the counter. The employee took the bag with a smile and removed the suit from its paper covering. Your dress was hanging in an armoire back in Alastor’s suite. He never intended to get it laundered. “Send my regards to Velvette. I haven’t had the chance to tell her how much I enjoyed her input at the last meeting you were apparently too busy to attend.”

Before the moth demon could say anything his cell phone rang, and Valentino answered as he gave Alastor the finger in response, opening the door to leave. “What do you mean, Donny hasn’t fucking showed up yet?!”

And then he was gone, yelling at his phone in the middle of Cannibal Town. Bold.

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When you woke up your room was dark, save for the light of a sconce near your door, the throbbing in your forehead making itself immediately known. The headache wasn’t surprising considering how much you had cried, nor was the pang of hunger you felt. You didn’t feel ready to eat anything yet though, but you definitely needed to get some water in your system.

Slowly, you got yourself out of bed, pausing for a moment to breathe through the stiffness in your body. Even when you had fled from Alastor earlier, your bathroom had never seemed as far away as it did now. It wasn’t until you were practically in front of it that you noticed the red dress hanging from your bathroom door, a note peaking out from the left pocket of the white, ruffled apron attached to its waist. It was a brief message, but impactful all the same. 

I believe red suits you best. - Alastor

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tag list: @fairyv-ice

[roll-of-royces]

Drabble: Workplace Violence (Zayne x AFAB!Reader)

Content: You get hurt. Zayne picks up the pieces, and maybe, possibly, loses his temper.

Rating: T for slight violence and injuries

Spoilers: Slight Chapter 4 mention

Word Count: 1170

It has become a bit of a habit of Zayne's and so the other staff have begun to notice it. Whenever a Hunter comes into the hospital, (specifically a female hunter) he always asks, "What is her name?" 

This is the only time he ever asks a patient's name unless it is prevalent to what he needs to do next. After all there are clipboards with that information, it's not important if he's deep in surgery, covered in blood trying to keep someone alive. 

But he asks, and he waits with bated breath for any name that is not your name. 

So when Greyson pops his head into his office, "Hunter in surgery. You're needed." 

Zayne stands, runs his hands along his coat and asks as he always does, "Their name?" 

And then Greyson does something he never does, he looks down at the floor and hesitates. Because his staff are starting to pick up on why he asks. They're starting to notice one woman that is always around. The woman that eats lunch in the cafeteria, and shows up unannounced and lets herself into Zayne's office. 

The woman that Zayne leaves his office door open for in the first place. 

Greyson says your name. 

Zayne is torn between two sides of himself, the side that is calm, a doctor, he asks, "What are her injuries?" His voice doesn't waver, his expression shows nothing. He is the cold creature half the hospital thinks he is. 

The other side of him riots, he feels ice curl up his back from his Evol before he gets it under control. He wants to ask what happened, who hurt you, who could have stopped it. This side of him stays silent as he follows the other man into the hallway toward Operating Room D, the one specifically kept for Wanderer related injuries. 

Greyson rattles off everything that needs to be mended and fixed. He came prepared. He knew Zayne would ask, of course he would ask. You'll need surgery, but the chances you'll live are greater than ninety-three percent. That high rate comes from Zayne himself, he's not arrogant, he's just better than most. 

When he slips into the operating room you're already there, sedated, prepped for operation. Against his wishes he freezes for less than a second, staring. There's bloody gauze in the waste bin below the table, you have wounds that seep red ichor down onto the metal table. 

Your hair, which you're always running your fingers through to keep smooth is in disarray. Your skin is pale, lacking the playful pink it normally is. 

But now is not the time to mourn what has happened to you. Zayne bottles it all up, shoves is deep inside himself where mountains and men in black coats live and gets to work. 

It takes five hours of extensive operating to stabilize you completely. He doesn't let anyone do anything but the most necessary work, he trusts his hands. He's not arrogant, he's just better. That's what he keeps telling himself on repeat. 

It has nothing to do with a desperate attempt to make sure that tomorrow you look at him with those wide beautiful eyes. It has nothing to do with the ice in his heart, and the terror of the idea of living without you. 

All Zayne knows is something breaks in him, something integral and controlled that lives in his chest at the sight of all the blood coating his gloves, his operating suit, the table, your body. 

Once he has you in a recovery room, door closed, asleep for now, he turns to Greyson. "What happened?" 

"From what I heard she ended up taking on too many Wanderers alone, her partner brought her in." 

Zayne swallows, "Is Xavier here?" 

Sure, he knows all about your partner. You're his girlfriend, you chat about the other man occasionally. He's talented but under-utilizes his abilities. He's lazy, too casual, and is inept at plenty of basic tasks like cooking, remembering how to get into his own apartment, and directions. 

Zayne didn't care much for Xavier before today, but now... 

"He's in the waiting room." 

All of his patience, all of his understanding, all of his careful step by step planning has been used up on making sure that you live to see dawn tomorrow. His feet hit the tiles of the hall hard as he heads for the waiting room. 

Pushing through the door he looks around. First, he looks for Caleb out of pure reflex, because if you are injured he will be here. The distinct lack of your brother is a stark reminder of the pain you have already suffered. 

Next he categorizes the others waiting for you. Tara is nibbling on the edge of his finger, anxious with a few of your other coworkers. Rafayel, is sitting off alone looking down at his hands, quiet. Respectable enough. 

And then of course there is Xavier. He sits in his bloody uniform, head leaned back against the wall, eyes closed. As if this doesn't matter, as if you did not almost die. He's taking a nap. 

Zayne is not on most days what he himself would consider an impulsive or violent man. Today is an exception for many things. 

He advances and Xavier has just long enough to start opening his eyes before he's yanking him out of his chair by his collar. The Hunter straightens, but doesn't pull away.

His acceptance is his guilt. 

"What were you?" Zayne's voice echoes. Staff and visitors alike stare, because this is not like him at all. He doesn't raise his voice at anyone let alone grab someone like he's done to Xavier. 

When Xavier doesn't immediately give an excuse Zayne keeps going, he puts all of his fear, all of his frustration into it. "Where the hell were you when she was getting torn into? Forty-three stitches! The stress can make her heart condition worsen. She'll need weeks, possibly months, to recover. Where were you?" 

"I was late getting to work." Xavier replies, there's no more fatigue in his eyes. "I made a mistake. I won't let it happen again." 

Zayne's hand tightens on his shirt, "Why were you late?" 

Jenna stands, "Doctor Zayne, I understand - " 

"Why?" He snarls at Xavier ignoring her entirely. 

Guilt again. Good he should feel guilty. 

"I overslept." 

Something ugly overcomes Zayne, something covetous and cloaked in darkness. Something old and new, something foreseeing and breaking. He lets go. 

And punches Xavier as hard as he can. 

His knuckles crack against the man's jaw. Xavier stumbles under the hit, hand reflexively coming to his face. He makes no move to attack back. There will be no war in the hospital waiting room. 

Before anyone can say anything else he drops his bruising hand to his side and addresses the crowd, "She'll make a full recovery, but won't be taking any visitors today. Please excuse me, I need to check on my patient." 

[thesunloveschips]

Eye of the Storm: Prologue

Summary: In the wake of Rhysand’s ascension as High Lord, the Bone Carver gifts a prophecy. More than five hundred years later, Azriel continues to wait for the one who is finally reborn as his High Lady’s sister. All it takes is a dip in the Cauldron for things to start falling into place.

Chapter Summary: The three Illyrians visit the Bone Carver after Rhysand becomes High Lord. In an uncharacteristic act, Death God gives them hope.

Word Count: 1.4k

Click here to access the Masterlist of the Eye of the Storm

****

The three Illyrian bastards walked slowly into the darkness, armoured to the toe with weapons strapped to every part of the body their hands could reach. The ominous sounds of the Prison and its inhabitants echoed around them and among them sounded the crack of bones.

Once.

Twice.

And again.

“It seems congratulations are in order.” The voice of the Bone Carver greeted them. “High Lord of the Night Court.” The wicked smile of the ancient creature always unnerved them. But then it continued, “My deepest condolences, shadowsinger, for the demise of your mate.”

Rhysand and Cassian immediately turned to Azriel who was as stone faced as he was whenever they were in the Prison but his shadows spoke volumes about his innermost feelings. They were quiet. Even the swishing sound they usually made was not there. Azriel was furious.

“I do not wish to incur your wrath anymore so I’ll let you in on a little secret.” Information shone in his eyes. Information that the spymaster wanted to torture for. Azriel’s bloodlust rolled off him in waves. His brothers suppressed a shiver but the Bone Carver himself did the same before he began. “She will be reborn.”

“What do you mean?” Rhysand was the one who asked. The only thing Rhys and Cass were able to discern from the Bone Carver’s twisted words were that Azriel had a mate and this mate was dead. They had never seen him with anyone. They hadn’t known.

“How would you know? The bond hadn’t snapped for either of them and he only felt it when your sister died.” The horror in Rhysand shook him to the core. His biological sister. His brother by choice. They were mates. They hadn’t had a chance. And now Azriel was left behind to be alone. And now this creature was saying that she would be reborn.

“Did you not hear a word I said? She will be reborn.” It seemed to Cassian, the only one who could even think a bit clearly in the current situation, that the Bone Carver was being a bit too desperate to convey this piece of information to them. He made no comment about it but stored that piece of information aside to discuss it with his brothers in the privacy of their home once both of them were calm enough. The last part seemed to distant a reality for the near future since the deceased female previously mentioned was Rhysand’s sister and by the looks of it, Azriel’s mate.

For the first time after feeling her death, Azriel felt hope. Funny that it was the Bone Carver who would do that to him. “She will come back.”

Azriel did not know why he felt his entire self being drained when he saw the dead body of that young girl. He had not felt that hollow even when he saw the body of the female who had raised him like her own. He attributed that feeling to the fact that she had been too young to be ripped away from life. That her wings had been cleaved from her body. He had seen the heads of the females and tracked down their bodies. The shadowsinger had found many bodies near theirs.

Upon reporting to Rhysand mind to mind, the High Lord and his Heir soon joined him to investigate. And for once he saw a male instead of the power hungry and unforgiving High Lord. A male who grieved his mate’s death. A male who heard his findings that the attackers were dressed in attire from Spring. A male who recognised the few dead attackers as the sons of the High Lord of Spring. A male who took one look at his son shedding tears, conveyed the information mind to mind and winnowed them in pursuit of revenge before the son could properly mourn his mother and sister.

Azriel winnowed back to Velaris where he had been stationed. He paced across the room furiously. Hours later, at the crack of dawn, the High Lord of the Night Court returned with blood in his hands and fear in his eyes. It was not the High Lord who had left but the Heir who had inherited his father’s throne and power. And if the magic had crowned him High Lord, then the father was dead.

Before Azriel could bow properly to the new High Lord, his shadows conveyed something to him. He took one good look at the male before him and realised that at this moment, this was his brother standing before him. Azriel marched over to Rhysand and helped him while he vomited. Once Rhys’s vomiting session was over, he helped him wash his mouth. The shadowsinger then decided to remove the blood stained leathers Rhysand was wearing and just as he had removed the first of the fighting leathers, Rhysand’s knees gave up and he collapsed on the bathroom floor.

Rhysand remembered how much he had cried and screamed. During the few moments he could gather his senses, he had asked Azriel to track down Cassian. Morrigan could not help him with how much she was herself in mourning. And when Cassian did reunite with his brothers after years, he did not believe that their reunion would be short of tears. But he walked into a house with one completely broken brother, another uncharacteristically angry brother and a devastated friend. All mourning over the deaths of one female who had raised them and the other who had been a friend to them all. In their world, it was a fortune to have a friend and a mother and to have both was a blessing something that took the wish granting powers of a thousand stars from the skies of Night Court.

Cassian knew he was devastated. The only mother he ever had had died. The only sister he ever had had died. And he was sick to the stomach. He did not know how Azriel gathered the stomach to break the news to him. He saw his family, broken beyond repair, hope drained from their eyes. And he knew that if Rhys did not gather himself then the war would be lost. That if Azriel did not come back to them, they would lose all hope. And if Mor did not stop crying then dreams would be lost. Cassian would do that. He had to. And to whatever extent he could, he did.

Rhysand had taken over his duties. Azriel had been appointed Spymaster of the Night Court. Mor had been given charge of governing Velaris. Cassian himself had been granted command over the Night Court’s armies. They immersed themselves in tasks one after the other. War raged. It ended. And while Rhys healed in the cabin, Morrigan and Cassian attended the signing of the Treaty as representatives from the Night Court. Azriel was travelling between the cabin, Velaris, Illyria and Hewn City to help Rhys rule their Court.

And now, after Rhysand’s decision to visit the prison for the first time after being crowned the High Lord, this creature was telling them that his sister would be reborn. Cassian’s disgust for the Bone Carver knew no bounds. Was this a joke?

“It is no joke, General.” The sharp tone grabbed his attention. His siphons glowed a bright red. And this was the General and Commander of the Night Court’s armies. He glared at the Bone Carver who merely laughed. “Do with it what you will.” And the creature turned away. The sounds of bones against each other resumed.

And the shadowsinger had decided then and there that he would wait for her because the heavens knew that he would do the same to come back to her. Rhys and Cass knew. They took one look at him and knew what he had resolved. No matter how much time it took. He would not cry. He would not falter. He would wait.

He had known his mate when she was Rhysand’s sister. A young girl every bit the dreamer belonging to the City of Starlight. And even though no romance had bloomed between them, they had loved each other in their own way. As friends. And if she were to reincarnate, Azriel would find her and give her the life she deserved to live. A life of happiness and opportunities and safety, far from the clutches of death.

[ellethespaceunicorn-masterlist]

The Howling in Claw Creek Forest Masterlist

Rating: Explicit, 18+, Minors - DNI

Pairing: Werewolf!Walter Marshall x Reader

Summary: You live in a small town called Claw Creek, surrounded by a deep, dark forest. Since you were a kid, an urban legend of the creature in the woods has been told. If the distant howls at night and mutilated livestock are anything to go by, you fear the stories to be true.

Wolfie-centric Spotify Playlist is here.

Sy-centric Spotify Playlist is here.

Dividers by me

Cover Art by me

Support/Reblog banner by me

Parts: (ongoing)

Prologue: The Legend of the Claw Creek Creature

Chapter One: Hide and Seek

Chapter Two: The Cabin in the Woods

Chapter Three: The Wolf In My Living Room

Chapter Four: Unbridled Instincts

Chapter Five: A Biting Truth

Chapter Six: Of Wolf and Man

Chapter Seven: Marked By The Wolf

Chapter Eight: Every Rose Has Its Thorn

Headcanons:

Beefy College Walter imagine

My Masterlist