#further proof i like men who look unkempt

[savage-rhi]

HEAR ME OUT

[babyybitchhhwrites]

Mugen x Reader 18+

Title: In the City

Rating:  Explicit/R-18+

Words: 8522

Warnings: cunnilingus, spit swapping, biting, creampie 

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25298812

♥♥♥♥

The rain came suddenly and with the sort of vengeful, punishing force that put an immediate stop to the hustle and bustle of nightlife in the city. It seemed even the floating world of Edo, for as lively and vibrant as it was, could not claim immunity to nature’s unpredictable wrath. 

You’d been lucky enough to secure a relatively dry spot for yourself under the safety of an izakaya’s roof awning. The notion of going inside to warm up with a bottle of sake flitted through your mind, very briefly, but then you remembered that your travel funds had already been greatly depleted on the journey here. You couldn’t afford the extra expense. At least not until you found a job, anyway.

You didn’t anticipate that being much of a problem in the capital though, and your heart gave a little thump when you peered out into the gloomy night. It was odd to see the once crowded streets now completely deserted. Empty, save the quickly flooding potholes in the road. The hazy outline of buildings loomed up out of the shadows all around you, faintly glowing lamps flickering here or there in the distance. You thought it strangely peaceful despite the rain violently hammering down on the earth. 

It was far from quiet though, at least not compared to the small farming village you’d come from. Even the slightest noise sounded like a thunderous clap when everything else was immersed in silence out in the country but here it seemed there was a continuous din coming from every which direction. You could just make out the reverberating notes of a plucked shamisen further down the road. There was a baby crying in one of the adjacent houses, its baleful wails almost poignantly ironic when it bled into the racket coming from the red light district just one street over. A dog was barking somewhere nearby. Behind you, raucous laughter drifted out of the izakaya and brushed your shoulder like a passing stranger stumbling home, only further emphasizing your isolation in a city of thousands.

A shudder raced down your spine and you shivered, feeling strangely alone. You’d expected some amount of homesickness, yes, but it seemed too soon for that just yet. 

There was no helping it when you were standing in the middle of an unfamiliar city full of nameless faces though. Knowing each of them had their own individual lives to lead that had nothing to do with you, a mere outsider, unavoidably made you ache for what you’d left behind. It was like being lost out at sea with no sign of land in sight. Disconcerting, to say the very least. But try as you might, you couldn’t seem to shake the impression of drowning within the expansive Edo landscape and you wordlessly shuffled aside when the door opened up behind you with a soft clack.  

“Man, it’s really coming down.”

You snuck a quick glance at the man who’d stepped out under the awning with you. He turned his head to look at you too. The quiet beat of consideration that passed between two strangers only seemed highlighted by the pounding rain and then you looked away. 

“Guess you don’t have an umbrella then.” He sighed as he moved to lean against the opposite wall. 

“I wouldn’t be standing here if I did.” You said, casually offhand. The disinterested tone of your voice had been purposely constructed so as to discourage further engagement on his part but he either didn’t pick up on it or he didn’t care.

“Well, that makes two of us. Damn. My luck couldn’t get any worse.”

You tried to ignore him, to no avail. He just kept talking, having a one sided conversation with himself no matter how pointedly you stared out at the rain.

“I don’t even have enough to buy another bottle of sake so there’s no point going back inside. I’m not in the mood to get drenched though. Same probably goes for you too, huh, sweetheart?”

Lifting your brows, you turned to regard him with nothing short of scandalized affront. Was this how all men in Edo talked to women? You weren’t convinced of that, particularly when you took a second look at him. His skin gave off the faint impression of copper, ruddy with a cool undertone that seemed to suggest he hailed from the south. There was a slight accent too. Noticeable but hard to place. The realization that he was also an outsider to the decadent world of the capital should have been of some comfort to you, inspiring a sense of solidarity if not camaraderie. Something about him put you on the defensive though and you couldn’t decide if it was the sword strapped to his back or the scruffy, unkempt appearance he was unapologetically touting. Shady. Exactly as you’d been told the people in the city would be.

You narrowed your eyes at him in warning. 

“Scary.” He murmured, clearly more amused than intimidated. “You got a name?”

“That’s none of your business.” 

“I’m Mugen.”

“I didn’t ask.”

Snorting, he dropped his gaze lower and his lopsided grin turned wry. “You a runaway or something? Looks like you got your whole life stuffed in there.”

You turned your attention to the furoshiki sitting at your feet. He wasn’t necessarily wrong in his estimation - you really had shoved as much as you could fit inside and it looked close to bursting - but you didn’t appreciate the insinuation that you were a child simply disobeying their parents. You hadn’t run away so much as you’d snuck out in the middle of the night to avoid a confrontation you knew you’d never win. The farmers in the country were distrustful of the city on principle alone, often citing the gambling houses and pleasure quarters as proof of Edo’s inherent corruption from within. You weren’t about to waste your time trying to explain that to him and risk being labeled a bumpkin though, so you merely offered a delicate sniff in response. 

“Snooty. I like that.”

Your mouth twisted in a scowl. “I am not snooty. You’re just a boorish brute and I’ve got nothing to say to you. That’s all.” 

The stranger who was no longer a stranger in your mind but, rather, a man called Mugen gave an overeffected shrug. “No skin off my nose. How old are you?” 

“What part of ‘I’ve got nothing to say to you’ don’t you understand?” You could feel your face starting to grow hot. 

Laughing in a strikingly boyish manner, he pushed off the wall and stepped closer. The hair on the nape of your neck promptly stood on end and an unseasonable chill raced through your body as he closed the distance on loose, confident strides that spoke volumes about the sort of life he’d led. A predator. That was all you could think to call him and you were apparently the weak, isolated prey animal he’d set his sights on. Something not unlike panic started to claw at your throat but you already knew running would be a futile effort. You were effectively cornered. Trapped. 

Your only option was to stand there, frozen to the spot with your heart pounding a frantic beat against your rib cage. The thought that this is how a hunted rabbit must feel when a half starved fox was closing in for the kill flashed through your mind and then camped there. You were just as helpless as the hare though and, craning your neck back, you met Mugen’s infuriatingly attractive half-mast gaze head on. 

He seemed to like that and hummed in quiet approval. “You’re awfully talkative for someone who claims they’ve got nothing to say. I think we just haven’t found the right topic yet, sweetheart.”

“How arrogant.” It was a real struggle to keep your tone neutral now. “Why do you think I owe you any of my time?” 

Ignoring the question, Mugen reached out and you instinctively flinched. He only grasped your sleeve between lax fingers and listlessly tugged on it though, not at all unlike a child. “This is your nicest kimono, isn’t it?” He asked instead. “It’s well made but old. Even I can see that and you think I give a damn about clothes?” 

He inelegantly snorted and you took that as your cue to jerk out of his hold. “What is your point?” 

Another flippant shrug of his thin shoulders. “Just making an observation. Is that a crime?” You pursed your lips together and he pressed on, satisfied with that. “I bet if I took a look in your bag, the rest of your shit is even more beat up than what you’ve got on now. Not a fancy silk kimono in the bunch.”

“And?” You said archly. “Is that really so condemning?” 

Comfortably slouching, Mugen slipped his hands into the pockets of his pants with a testy sigh. “And it’s obvious you’re not from around here. Not the city, at least. You’re a country girl, aren’t you?” 

The breath caught in your throat. You suddenly couldn’t speak; all of your witty, sharp tongued remarks failing you when you needed them most, but your silence seemed to be answer enough for him. He smirked. 

“Thought so.” Piercing gaze roving down your ramrod stiff body, Mugen regarded the furoshiki at your feet again. “Considering how full you’ve got that bag, it’s not hard to figure out your angle. A sweet little girl from the country who ran away to Edo for something more than a life of farming. I’m right, aren’t I?” 

A tense beat of quiet passed over the spot under the Izakaya awning. 

“I’m not a little girl.” You stammered. It was the only thing you could think to say. 

“Coulda’ fooled me.” 

Hunching his shoulders, Mugen turned on his heel and unhesitatingly stepped out into the late summer downpour. You watched him go, reeling and knocked off course. Buoying in the tumultuous sea of doubts suddenly assaulting your mindscape in a torrential flood that made the rain storm seem a mere drop in the bucket by comparison. He’d come to you like a tsunami, abrupt and without mercy, ravaging your resolve in one fell swoop before receding just as quickly. 

He was a force to be reckoned with, of that you were sure, and he hadn’t even acted in a way that was outwardly aggressive. Mugen simply was what he was. A beast. Perhaps even the most dangerous of them all, because his retreating back sparked a feeling deep inside your gut that could only be described as longing. He was a threat to your person, your entire being. But there was no denying his magnetic pull and you didn’t stop long enough to consider the possible consequences of further engaging him. He hadn't really left you with any other choice. 

You moved to step after him only to trip, stumbling over your bag. 

Swooping down, you hauled the considerable weight of your past life up over your shoulders and stepped out into the rain. It was cold on your flushed skin but a welcome reprieve. Your hair was plastered to your skull in a matter of moments, though you hardly even noticed it as you scampered after him like a naive, hopeful stray.

If asked, you wouldn’t have been able to explain why you did it. You weren’t even entirely sure yourself. Maybe Mugen was simply the closest thing to an acquaintance you could lay claim to here in Edo or, perhaps more likely, he represented a much needed harbor of safety in this floating realm of hedonistic duress. You weren’t sure where to go from here or what to do with your new found freedom. But if he could ground you, even if only for one night, you felt certain you’d be able to face the unfamiliar city in the light of day. That’s what you tried to tell yourself, at least. 

But he didn’t ask. 

*

“Put your stuff wherever.”

Clutching the furoshiki in a death grip, you glanced around at Mugen’s room. It was small, though not exactly cramped. Humble would likely be a good word for it. 

The simple, unadorned inn was surprisingly quaint. It almost reminded you of back home but there was no mistaking the sheer difference in its construction. This was not the simple, economical structure of a farming village but rather the distinct product of an extravagant city that was forever evolving in more and more decadent ways. It only looked modest and unassuming because it had been designed that way. You could see the signs all around you, from the meticulously polished wood to the immaculate state of the tatami mats that were without a fray in sight despite the no doubt heavy foot traffic they were burdened with. It left you feeling decidedly out of place and you awkwardly stood standing by the doorway.

“I don’t want to intrude …”

Mugen scoffed and shot you a flat look over his shoulder. “Little late for that wouldn’t you say?” 

Your cheeks warmed but if he noticed, he paid it no mind. 

Moving further into the room, Mugen pulled the sword strap over his head and somewhat carelessly dropped the weapon onto the floor. His drenched happi came off next, tossed aside without a second thought. The white shirt underneath quickly followed and you squeaked in surprise - not because you were fool enough to have expected anything less staying with a man you’d only just met but because he was skin and bones. Gaunt didn’t even come close to describing it.

You could make out almost every single knob and divot in his spine. The hard lines of his shoulder blades jutted out, stretching the thin layer of skin across his back like brittle rice paper until it seemed as if the bone might rip through it if he wasn’t careful. The grooves of his rib cage were clear as day even from behind and you gulped, swallowing your nerves so forcefully that it left you momentarily lightheaded. You’d never seen someone so skinny before. The apparent fragility of his body was misleading but, even though you would have otherwise assumed him weak and frail, you still recognized that he was actually quite strong. Maybe even stronger than the boys back home who spent their days plowing fields and chopping wood who were twice his size. 

The impression of sharing a space with some mangy, feral dog only grew stronger while you watched him step up to the window facing out over the street and slide it open. You were able to see every muscle in his arm as it flexed with the motion, slight as it was but so densely packed that it appeared to violently bulge under ruddy skin. You quickly realized your initial assumption had been off by some margin. Mugen was all skin and bones and hard muscle, and you were starting to suspect that he was one of the most dangerous men in Edo. 

You abruptly felt some concern about following him here, back to his room at the inn, but then he turned to regard you with an expectant lift of his brows and you relaxed. For the time being, at least, you were safe with him. He was just a mutt looking for some company on a rainy night and he had no reason to harm you. It was fitting, given that you, too, had no place to call your own or anyone to share it with. Birds of a feather and all that.

“Is here fine?” You asked, moving to deposit your overflowing bag in the corner. 

“I don’t give a damn.” 

Mugen lifted his arms over his head in an exaggerated stretch that left his skin pulled so taut it was a miracle it didn’t split open right before your very eyes. The gaps between his ribs made your stomach clench and you quickly looked away, untying the furoshiki with trembling fingers. Everything inside was soaked. Not that it really mattered. His earlier estimation had been absolutely correct and all the clothes you’d brought with you were as good as trash. A glaring sign of your roots up in the mountains, far away from civilization and talented seamstresses. 

Sighing dejectedly, you tied the cloth back up so you wouldn’t have to look at its contents anymore. 

“Something wrong?” 

“Not at all.” Straightening, you turned and walked over to stand next to him in front of the window. It was still pouring outside and the mismatched pitter patter of raindrops on the clay shingle roof provided the room a strangely calming ambiance. It was peaceful here despite the ever present noise of city life. 

Curiously, Mugen peered over at you for a prolonged moment. “Aren’t you cold?” He said at last.

Now it was your turn to shrug. “I don’t have anything dry to change into.”

He clicked his tongue, closing the distance between the two of you in a single step. 

You froze, heart pounding in your ears when his narrow frame brushed up against yours without a hint of pretense or deception. Mugen’s demeanor was honest to a fault as his hands found your hips and settled there, guiding you forward until you were pressed up against him and you could feel the faint warmth of his body bleeding through your wet kimono and into you. A shudder rippled down your back, as anticipatory as it was anxious. You weren’t sure what to do - did he expect submissive compliance or wanton hunger? - and you held your breath when he leaned close to put his mouth next to your ear.

“Neither do I but I know how we can warm each other up.”

You lifted your hands to halfheartedly grasp at his bony wrists. “Isn’t this happening a little fast?”

“Sorry. I don’t like to waste time if I can help it.”

Tilting your head, you warily glanced up at him and whatever he saw in your face made him laugh.

“Don’t look at me like that. We don’t have to if you don’t wanna’. Despite what you think, I’m not actually a brute.” Narrow eyes twinkling with mischief, Mugen used his hold on your hips to steer you around so that your back was facing the open window. “But I can promise you won’t regret it. I’m leagues above those country boys you used to fool around with.” 

“How modest.”

That was all you managed to get out when he abruptly tightened his hold and hefted you up into the air. You yelped, surprised, and he plopped you back down almost immediately. Realizing he’d set you on the window sill, you fixed him with a disgruntled scowl as you huffily attempted to right yourself. The ease with which he’d plucked you off the ground had affected you more than you were willing to let on though, your insides vibrating at the casual display of strength while you struggled to find your orientation again. 

“A warning would have -”

Mugen silenced you with his mouth.

You jolted, fuzzy surprise washing over you at the sensation of coarse lips working against yours. He wasn’t gentle or slow. The exact opposite of every other kiss you’d ever been on the receiving end of. His ministrations were conversely demanding and rough, bordering on sloppy as he forcibly pried your mouth open so he could taste you. 

Gut clenching, you acquiesced with a muted groan. Mugen swallowed the sound and tilted his head so your lips were slotted more firmly together and he could delve the wet, sticky heat of his tongue past your teeth. It brushed yours in a slow, languid lick towards the back of your throat, making you swallow on reflex. He smirked into the kiss and you shuddered. This was as foreign to you as the city. Brash and formidable where you’d only ever experienced tentative, coaxing pecks before. It had you burning up in a matter of moments, your chilled nipples pebbling against the innermost layer of your kimono until you had no choice but to squirm at the heady sensation. 

It was like being lit on fire, you were sure of it, and you gratefully tipped your face towards the ceiling when he leaned back to regard your dazed expression. Smug and confident. Pleased. 

“It’s been a long time since I was last with a girl as honest as you.” He husked, the sly note in his voice not escaping your notice. 

“I am not honest.” You fixed him with a frazzled look of warning. Mugen didn’t seem to buy it though, continuing to hover over you with his hands bracketing your thighs against the window sill, and you irritably huffed. “What would make you say that, anyway?”

“The better question is what wouldn’t.” Reaching up, he grazed the rough pad of his thumb over your bottom lip which parted for him as if on command. “You’re not a virgin, are you, sweetheart?” 

You hesitated, thoroughly caught off guard by that question. “No.” You said at last. It wasn’t a lie. You’d just never been with someone like him before.

The corner of his mouth twitched higher. “Good. I won’t have to hold back then.” 

Mugen dipped his thumb into your mouth before you could draw a breath of protest, effectively silencing you again. Noising a weak complaint around the intrusion, you shot him a plaintive look but he remained as undeterred as ever. The pad of his finger pressed down on your tongue, making it writhe under the pressure in a tantalizing dance that had him drawing a slow breath of excitement. His other hand lifted and cupped your breast through the soaked cotton, giving it an experimental squeeze. Static zapped through you at the indelicate friction and you sat up a little straighter, pushing your chest further into his palm. He was still focused entirely on your mouth though, leaving you with no choice but to seal your lips around the base of the digit and obediently suckle.  

He offered you a quiet sound of approval. It wasn’t hard to figure out what he wanted, but you found it difficult to shake the feeling that your childish trysts with the village boys down by the creek had not properly prepared you for what Mugen had to offer. He was an entirely different breed. His own animal, as dangerous as he was gangly. The little voice in the back of your mind tried to insist that you weren’t ready for this - whatever this was - but your body seemed to have a mind of its own. When he slipped his hand inside the folds of your kimono, you readily arched into the touch. When his fingers found your stiff nipple you writhed and when he unceremoniously tweaked it, you gasped. You’d never felt so desperate from such simple, tactless attention before but you couldn’t deny what it was doing to you even if you’d tried.

Had it been anyone else pinching your nipple hard enough to draw a groaning whine from the back of your throat, you would have smacked them across the face. He was far too rough with you, insensitive and unnecessarily crude in the way he handled your body. You were ashamed to realize just how much you actually liked it though and when your pussy fluttered eagerly at the rough treatment, you subconsciously squirmed again. 

Mugen released a soft moan at the sight of you falling apart right before him, pushing down with his thumb and manually prying your jaw open until he could look straight down your throat. “Shit …” He paused to lick his lips, and you tracked the motion with your eyes. “You ever had a cock in your mouth, sweetheart?”

You jolted, molten heat flooding your guts when the mental image of what that must be like overwhelmed your thoughts. The notion had never crossed your mind before. The boys back home hadn’t been presumptuous enough to ask. You would have called such an act dirty if they had, adamantly refusing to put your mouth on the eager pricks they just as happily rutted into you with. They weren’t deserving of such dutiful submission. But it was different with Mugen. Not only did you want to do it but you could all too easily see yourself taking him as far as you could, right to the limit of your gag reflex, and it was enough to have you subtly grinding on the window sill underneath you. 

The dizzying magnitude of your arousal brought tears to your eyes as you shook your head, numb and quietly keening for him.

“Can’t say I’m surprised.” He murmured, pulling on your lower jaw when you tried to close your mouth. “I don’t think it’s very popular outside of the brothels. Guess you’ve probably never had anyone go down on you either, huh?”

Your eyes widened when you realized what he was suggesting. “Thash dirhi!” 

Lazily smirking, Mugen curled his fingers under your chin and tugged you up straighter with his hold on your mouth. “Hey, don’t knock it til’ you try it. You probably won’t get this chance very often so you should be happy. Stick your tongue out, baby.”

Hesitantly, you obeyed. Your tongue slowly unfurled and tentatively slipped over his thumb even though your instincts were going haywire, screaming in protest to this degrading humiliation. The curious arousal searing your veins was all but palpable though and you watched, mesmerized, as he leaned close to hover over your face. Those thin, coarse lips parted, oozing a bubbling wad of saliva that dripped down towards your outstretched tongue at a tauntingly staggered speed. You whined, realizing too late what he was doing but not having the presence of mind to try and fight it. All you could do was observe its gradual descent and when the cooling spit touched its mark, you shook.

The glistening string that connected the two of you broke apart when he straightened to admire his handiwork, an expression of deep satisfaction flashing across his narrow face. “Now swallow it. Tell me how that tastes.”

His thumb retreated from your mouth, allowing you to do just that. The distinct flavor of his mouth clung to your taste buds as you choked down Mugen’s spit but it was, surprisingly, not half as repulsive as you would have guessed it to be. 

Dazedly, you swayed on top of the window sill and croaked out “It wasn’t terrible …” 

“Putting your mouth on someone's cock isn’t much different. Not dirty at all.” Looking quite smug, Mugen withdrew entirely and sunk down on his knees. You watched him with your heart in your throat, weakly trembling when he palmed your thighs so he could spread them wide. “Pussy, on the other hand, can get a bit messy. If you know what I mean.”

“I d - don’t know what you mean …”

He hummed as if he’d expected as much. Anticipated that response. Your mind was running a mile a minute as you followed the motion of his hand when he reached for the lower half of your kimono, hardly daring to breathe. It was almost impossible to wrap your mind around what was happening and even harder to grasp the fact that you were letting him do whatever he wanted with you. There was some kind of disconnect here. 

But you couldn’t find it in yourself to complain as he parted the cotton and shoved it aside so that it bunched around the obi circling your middle. You were suddenly exposed from the waist down and you shuddered so hard that your eyes seemed to vibrate in their sockets. Mugen was attentively inspecting your bare cunt, his nose a little too close to the curling tuft of hair for your liking, and you instinctively tensed when he reached up to touch you. 

“Calm down.” He huffed. “If you really don’t like it, I’ll stop. I don’t think that’ll be a problem though.”

“But it's so - ah!” 

His fingers found your slit, spreading the puffy little lips open without pause, and you rocked back against the edge of the window. Your face felt like it was on fire as you gaped down at him, the unmistakable sensation of beading sweat on your brow only adding to the damp quality of your skin after walking through the rain. No one had ever looked at you with such plain hunger before - at least not down there, when your core was inches from their face and they could see all of you and smell your cloying arousal in the air.

Whimpering, you twisted on the sill and tried to close your legs. The high strung embarrassment making your pulse pound was too much. You couldn’t stand to have Mugen, this stranger, unobstructedly staring at the core of your body like this but he was positioned in such a way that you couldn’t shut him out. Your knees merely knocked against his arms, the attempt seeming to spur him on rather than dissuade him. 

He grunted and shouldered his way further between your thighs so he could dip his face close. You drew a sharp breath to object but the sound puffed out of you in a frazzled squeal when his tongue darted out to trace the length of your labia from bottom to top. Wolf-like gray eyes roved up the length of your body to fix on your slack face. He looked like something wild and untameable. Something savage, particularly with his open mouth hovering over your cunt. You could just make out the glint of flat, blocky teeth in the sparse light that was stretching from the burning paper lamp off to the side. It made him appear almost inhuman and for the first time since stepping into this room, you felt the tickle of genuine fear at the back of your mind. 

Mugen was going to eat you, both figuratively and literally. God, why did that excite you so much? 

“Please …” You blubbered, not knowing what else to say. 

Dark lashes fluttered as he turned his focus to your defenseless pussy again. “It’s a little too early to start begging for it, sweetheart.” He muttered, chuckling darkly when the puff of hot breath on your exposed clit made you twitch. “I haven’t even started yet and you already look like you’re gonna’ cry.” 

Pausing, he pressed the rough texture of his lips against the gummy meat of your petal soft inner folds and mouthed at you. A strange choking sound erupted from your throat, prompting him to press into you tighter until you could feel the rough scratch of chin stubble teasing your cunt. The room began to swim as you rocked against the window, throwing your head back with a half stifled wail. You caught the sound of him swallowing the taste of you, his jaw opening wide to encompass your tingling clit in hot, wet warmth and then suckling. Spine snapping ramrod stiff, you lurched under him and blindly kicked out, your lips parting on a silent scream. 

The intensity of the sensation was too much. It was difficult just to draw breath when your cunt was lighting up in brilliant, overwhelming sparks of pleasure you’d never so much as fathomed before. You realized, in a far off, dreamy sort of way, that you’d been correct in your earlier estimation. Mugen was nothing at all like the boys from the village who only knew how to fumble and stab at you with their pricks. This was something else altogether. Heady and intoxicating, and your toes curled in delight when he lapped at you with his tongue. Another lick passed over the thrumming pleasure button nestled between your folds and then another. He abruptly pulled off you with a rough suck that made your soul feel like it was slipping out of your body, the accompanying masculine grunt of satisfaction he issued rushing straight to your loins. You could hardly stomach the sheer magnitude of arousal you were all but suffocating under because of him. 

“Mugen …!” You gasped, fumbling to grab hold of him. His fingers, his wrist, the haphazard shock of hair atop of his head. It didn’t matter. You just needed to feel him under your hands. 

“I knew you’d like it.” He rasped, self-satisfied and confident as he grinned up at you from his spot between your legs. “Aren’t you glad you trusted me?”

You managed to snag a fistful of his brown hair and you arched, presenting your slick cunt to him. “Trusting you might have been the worst mistake of my life.” You hissed. “Please don’t stop …”

Softly groaning when you tugged on the strands between your fingers to encourage him back into action, Mugen shot a smolderingly fierce look up the length of your body. “Awfully demanding for someone who didn’t even want me to do this, aren’t you?”

“I'm sorry.” It sounded like a plaintive sob. 

Noising a pleased hum, he relented at last and lowered his mouth to your cunt again. The fingers on your labia spread, pulling you further open for him, and you seethed when he tauntingly flicked at your clit with just the tip of his tongue. Thighs twitching, you pulled on his hair again but he refused to budge. He seemed content just to roll the meaty little nub back and forth, side to side, occasionally crisscross to keep you on alert. Never too much pressure though, nothing too direct and satisfying enough to send you over the edge. It was maddening and you keened, not caring who might hear when you were half hanging out the window. The only thing you could focus on was how all the sensation in your body seemed to have funneled down into a fine, pulsating pinprick of static electricity and he was relentlessly toying with that vibrating cluster of nerves like he was getting paid to do it. You’d never felt such dizzying desperation in all your life.

“Mugen! Please! Stop teasing me! I can’t ta - aaake it!”

He was watching you writhe from under the hooded fall of his lashes, sallow cheeks hollowing out when he deigned to suck at you again. You almost came up off the sill, that’s how hard you arched when the tension in your loins doubled and then tripled. Delirious, you jutted your pelvis up and humped his mouth in a lewd display of carnal distress that would surely embarrass you later when you remembered this moment. But for the time being at least, all sense of dignity had been thrown to the wayside. Thoroughly useless to you when he was making you feel so good. You just wanted release and you wanted it now. But, much to your groaning disappointment, he pulled back when it became apparent that you were getting close, leaving you to sob brokenly at the loss of his tongue. 

“I’ve got one rule.” He intoned, his voice thick and guttural. “I’ll go down on you as much as you want but you’ll always cum on my cock. No exceptions.” 

Feeling hysterical, you sat up straight and fixed him with a wild eyed look. “Then do it!” 

Mugen snorted. “Bossy now that you’ve got a taste of it, huh?”

You wanted to reach out and choke the life right out of him. You suspected he’d probably like that though, hesitating when you saw him reach for his pants. A new wave of anxiety washed over you, uncertain and nervous. He was so different than any other man you’d ever known that you couldn’t help wondering if this would be very different too. You’d only seen a handful in your short life, after all, but the breath still caught in your throat when he shoved the baggy material down his legs and his cock sprung up into the air. Ruddy, like the rest of him, but a shade or two darker. The mess of curly dark hair at the base looked more fluffy than coarse and you suddenly realized that the hair on his head was the same way. It had felt like an impossibly thick mass of silk between your fingers and you wondered if the strands crowning his dick were just as smooth to the touch.

Your mouth started to water and you swallowed hard, wondering if he’d let you return the favor later. He probably would.

“C’mere, sweetheart.” 

Starting, you jerked your attention up from his crotch. Mugen was already reaching out to grab you around the waist and when he pulled, you let him drag you down onto the floor with him. You trembled with jittery anticipation as he sat back on his haunches and guided you into his lap. Hands finding his bony, narrow shoulders, you squirmed over top of him while he took a moment to glide his finger through the mess he’d made between your legs. Each brief, fleeting touch to your throbbing clit made you jump but he was apparently serious about wanting you to cum with his prick wedged inside you. He was purposely avoiding the sensitive pearl, focusing most of his attention on your slick entrance. You sincerely hoped you’d be able to find release like this.

“You’re soaked.” He laughed, the humor in his voice anything but innocent. 

“Because of you.” You snipped back halfheartedly.

“That’s right. Because of me.” Drawing a slow inhale, Mugen used his hand on your hip to push you down while the other guided himself to your dripping hole. “And don’t you ever forget that.”

A gasp caught in your throat when you felt the glans touch your sticky labia and you jolted, rising up on your knees a fraction of an inch. He merely squeezed your doughy soft flesh all the harder, forcing you down until the tip of him was pressing into you. Forcibly spreading the meaty lips apart in daunting slow motion. Breaching your body at such a staggered pace that you had no choice but to comprehend every individual blinding wave of pleasure that washed over you, one right after another. 

You keened, digging your nails into Mugen’s flesh as you gradually sunk down onto his hard length. Reflexive tears sprung up in your eyes while you reveled in the sensation of being stretched out around him, seemingly right to the absolute limit. It was overwhelming and somehow not enough at the same time. You could hardly think straight anymore, your once frantic mind now grinding to a complete standstill. Every ridge, every vein, the slight curve of him. You felt it all. Such acute hyper awareness was foreign to you but you basked in it, groaning deep in your chest when you finally settled on top of his thighs a small eternity later. 

The stuffed full sear of penetration was exquisite. 

“Gods, you’re tight.” 

Grunting, Mugen wrapped his long arms around you and shoved his face into your neck. You inhaled a sharp, faltering breath as you curled your arms around his shoulders. With a weak, experimental bounce, you rocked into him. He groaned, squeezing you so tightly that there were sure to be blooming purple splotches in the shape of his fingers come morning. You didn’t care though. The promise of absolution spurred you on and you repeated the motion, dazedly moaning when his cock exerted a delightful amount of pressure on your upper wall. 

“Little minx.” He all but growled, taking a playful nip at your pulse. 

Mugen leaned forward then, using his iron like hold around your middle to keep you seated on his lap so he could lazily thrust up into you. The tension in your guts increased and you wailed. His pubic hair tickled your clit, sending tingling shockwaves spider webbing all throughout your cunt and making you clench down around him. That seemed to punch the air out of his lungs and he wheezed. The slight but powerful muscles in his arms trembled slightly with the effort of holding himself back as he flexed up into you, working your contracting passage loose with a steady patience you hadn’t exactly expected from him. 

It was driving you mad, the exact opposite of what you’d wanted. Seething through your teeth, you clutched at him all the harder as you struggled to get one of your legs out from underneath you. A triumphant spark lit up inside your chest when you managed to brace your foot on the tatami, the angle all wrong and sure to leave you sore the next few days, but you didn’t care. All you could bring yourself to care about was chasing that promise of release with him and you used your newfound leverage to bounce in time with his thrusts. The steady clap of skin on skin gradually rose in the air, blending almost seamlessly into the ever present patter of pouring rain. You could just make out the sticky wet squelch coming from between your thighs every time your pussy sucked him in deep on every downward thrust and that, too, would likely embarrass you later. 

In the heat of the moment it was one of the hottest sounds you’d ever heard though and you gasped in delight as you clawed at his back. The worryingly pronounced ridges of his spine that had alarmed you not all that long ago now only added to the appeal of his lithe frame driving into you, over and over again with increasingly powerful thrusts. It didn’t take long at all for his tempo to pick up as your squeezing walls relaxed around him, driving into you hard enough to knock the air right out of your lungs. 

You couldn’t seem to catch your breath any longer, the heaving grunts and groans bursting out of your mouth only making it all the harder to pull in oxygen. He was panting too, though not as labored despite the physical exertion he was putting his body through. It was in many ways astounding that someone who looked so horribly malnourished could keep up this kind of effort for so long and his stamina was far greater than you’d been prepared for. All of your previous encounters with the opposite sex had ended within minutes after starting but this was much more intense. Prolonged and drawn out. Mugen showed no signs of stopping any time soon and your leg quickly grew tired in this awkward position, aching almost as badly as your pussy. 

With a frustrated wail, you went limp in his arms and let him ragdoll you for an extended beat. You caught the sound of him chuckling breathlessly against your neck but you were no match for him. That much had been obvious right from the start though, and you didn’t care. The driving force of his smoothly gliding thrusts was satisfying enough now that he’d picked up the pace and you chose to focus on that instead. Cumming like this did not seem like such an impossibility any more.

“Muh - Mugen …! You feel so - oooh good!”

“Yeah? You like that, baby?” 

You jerkily nodded and buried your hand in his hair, gripping tight at the scalp. A faltering groan rose up out of him, rewarding for your trouble, and you choked when he changed the angle of his thrusts. He seemed to be hitting deeper and reaching further into your body than before. The head of his cock tickled your cervix and you jerked on top of him when the jolts of pleasure made starbursts erupt across your rapidly blurring vision. It lit every nerve ending in your body on fire, swallowing you in a rush of carnal bliss. 

Mouth hanging wide open, you flung your head back. Mugen tightened his arms around you, threatening to suffocate you right on the spot if you weren’t careful, and tipped forward on his knees. Your back hit the wall just under the window sill with a solid thump, causing you to cry out with renewed desperation. His unruly hair was sticking to his face as he bent over your trembling body and slammed into your squelching cunt at the perfect angle to attack the dense, thrumming cluster of nerves just on the other side of your inner wall. Your trembling leg flew up into the air and curled around his narrow waist, squeezing him as tight as the tired muscle would allow. You were so close you could practically taste it on your tongue and he seemed to recognize the distant, doped out look pinching your expression for exactly what it was.

“You gonna’ cum for me, baby?” He said, struggling to get the words out.

Your response bordered on hysterical and the words came out so scrambled that even you had no idea what you were trying to say anymore. 

Mugen didn’t seem to mind though and, baring his teeth in a leering smirk, he shoved you further up against the wall until your neck started to scream in protest. “Yeah, I got you all figured out now. That sweet spot is mine. This pussy is mine.” Ducking his head, he latched his mouth onto the swell of your breast where the kimono had slid open and bit down. Hard.

You shrieked, the pain meshing so suddenly with the pleasure that you forgot how to breathe for a split second. Your cunt spasmed and squeezed, but he remained undeterred as he continued to fuck into you while he animalistically marked you as his. Every muscle in your body instantly locked up in dizzying tension and, with a strangled groan, the coil snapped. 

Coming up off your breast with a triumphant groan, Mugen watched you spasm and writhe throughout your hard won orgasm. It was intense - easily the most intense sensation you’d ever experienced - and you felt like something wild as you shook on his cock. You couldn’t see. Couldn’t hear. Only feel, and it threatened to bowl you right over the longer it wracked your body from the top of your head to the tips of your toes. His thrusts never faltered though, continuing to drive into your creamy cunt until you were sure you couldn’t stand much more. Sensitized and raw, you were like freshly wrought clay in his arms while he chased his own release, looking like some heaving, half starved beast above you. 

“Fuck, you feel so good!” He practically snarled. “Keep squeezing me like that! I’m getting close!” 

A high pitched, overstimulated whine clawed its way up your throat as you clung to him all the more fervently. Mugen’s hard, bony shoulders started to tremble under your palms, the only outward sign that he was telling the truth, and your helpless bleating quickly took on a more dire tinge when his hips began slamming into you even harder. Faster. His pace was quickly losing its rhythmic push and pull, becoming increasingly more frantic with each passing second. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head from the sheer force of his thrusts, an unseemly dribble of saliva creeping from the corner of your mouth. You couldn’t have been less concerned about it though. All of your limited brain power was focused on one thing and one thing only. 

Mugen was going to cum inside of you. 

“Shit,” He sounded winded. Like he’d been sucker punched. “Did you just get even tighter?”

You wordlessly groaned, unable to form a coherent sentence even if you’d wanted to. 

The coarse sound of pleasure that rumbled inside his chest had your pussy lighting up all over again and you subconsciously clamped down around him. Mugen lurched over top of you, slamming into your aching pussy with all his might once, twice and then a third time. A full bodied shudder rippled down the length of his spine, you could feel the power behind it as the roiling wave systematically worked its way down to his groin. Hips stuttering, he let loose a seething howl that made your toes curl in response and then you felt the hot, sticky mess of seed flooding your cervix in the next heartbeat. You gasped when it kept coming, one spurt after another, all of it settling in heavy clumps against your palpitating inner walls. 

Stunned, you didn’t dare move while he tried to catch his breath. The thick, viscous discharge seemed to bubble inside of you, quickly adjusting to your body’s temperature as if to blend in, but it was still painfully noticeable. You’d have to remember to buy some contraceptive herbs first thing in the morning. 

Hissing, Mugen slowly detached you from his cock and lowered you down onto the floor just a brief moment later. His arms were shaking, apparently tired in the aftermath. “Damn.”

You shifted so that your neck wasn’t all bent up, keenly aware of the sloppy mess oozing out of your well fucked hole without him there to stopper it. This wasn’t the time to complain about that just yet though and instead you settled on “You curse a lot.” 

He grunted a humorless laugh and looked up at you from under the fringe of hair that had fallen over his brow. “You gonna’ wash my mouth out or something?”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Scoffing, Mugen reached out to grab the meat of your arm. You tensed, the inexplicable thought that he was going to kick you out of his room now that he’d gotten what he wanted flitting through your mind. A tinge of disappointment sparked to life in your chest, unbidden, but he merely pulled you against him and flopped down onto the floor. The resulting thump seemed to rattle the walls, though neither of you paid it any mind. You were far more concerned with figuring out what he was doing, eying the man suspiciously, whereas he appeared intent on catching a nap. His eyes were closed and the labored canter of his breath slowly evened out while you watched him, studying the subtle signs of relaxation on his face. He was quite handsome when you looked at him like this. 

It was too good to last though and his brows furrowed after a quiet beat. “Are you planning to watch me or sleep?”

You cocked a brow at that. “The beds over there.”

Clicking his tongue, Mugen rolled over and half sprawled himself out on top of you. His topmost leg thrown over yours, arm stretching across your middle, yours and his clothes still all askew. You couldn’t help thinking it was the most unfriendly bear hug you’d ever received. A mangy stray right down to the letter, it seemed. 

“The floor will do just as fine. Trust me.” He yawned. “I’ve slept on much worse.”

“But the bed -” You futilely tried to reason.

“Sleep now. I’ll fuck you nice and slow in the morning. Promise. Just be quiet.”

You huffed. “At least let me take off my kimono then. It’s soaked!”

Mugen lifted his head and cracked an eye open so he could peer over the length of your body, the interest in his half asleep face undeniable. “Alright, deal.”

[chellerbelles]

Rogue/Gambit Fanworks week, Day 7: Alternate Universe

Can also be found here: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13495715/1/The-Thief-and-the-Archmage

Gambit cautiously pushed the tower window open. He scanned the ground in front of him and anything else in the nearby vicinity, but saw no signs of anything that might be a magical trap. One could never be certain when breaking into an archmage’s tower, especially one that had a bounty on their head for the last ten years.

He gingerly set one foot inside and on the floor. He waited. Nothing happened. He placed the other foot inside, pull his full weight on his feet and waiting again while continuing to take in his surroundings. Still nothing.

It appeared to be a cross between a study and a sitting room. There was a lounge, a desk, a workbench, and a large bookshelf full of books. Other shelves were full of various small boxes and bottles.

He carefully made his way over to the desk, the carpet muffling the sound of his steps. He inspected the desk from all angles before he dared to touch it.

Gambit reached out his hand and froze. He froze, not out of choice or fear, but because his body felt like it was held in place.

The lights went on. He couldn’t turn his head. He couldn’t even move his eyes, though he did see a blurred figure out of the corner of his eye. The blurred figure came into focus as she moved to stand in front of him.

She was dressed in a simple nightgown, her arms and legs bare. Her hair, brown with a white streak at the front, was unkempt like she’s just gotten out of bed. For someone who had a bounty on her head for at least ten years, she appeared a lot younger than Gambit expected. Perhaps that was just magic at work. She was supposed to be exceptionally powerful after all.

She studied him seriously, and after an extended silence, said: “Curious. Assassins usually try to find my bedroom at this time of night, not raid my desk.”

Abruptly, Gambit found himself able to move his head again. He shook it, blinked a few times with much relief, and then looked into the archmage’s bright green eyes.

“Ah, good evening chère,” he said pleasantly. “Sorry to disturb you, but let me assure you, I would never enter a lady’s bedroom uninvited.”

“No? Just her house?”

“Well, I am a thief,” Gambit went on, figuring that being charming and mostly honest was his best bet. “And this did seem like an ideal place to get valuable loot from.”

“Mmmhmm.” She folded her arms across her chest. “And what makes you think you would’ve even gotten away with it? Did it not occur to you that I could caught you in the act, or track you and my things down later?”

“Life’s no fun if you don’t take risks, ma chère,” Gambit replied smoothly, paused for a moment, then said: “Besides, the mercenary gang, The Rippers, have gathered in force and are planning on attacking you at dawn. There’s at least 40 of them, so I figure, even an archmage of your reputation would have her hands full.”

The archmage studied him thoughtfully. “And why should I believe you’re not a scout for these Rippers?”

“I’m not,” Gambit said flippantly. “But I doubt that I could prove that to your satisfaction.”

“Hmm.” She leaned in and looked deeply into his red and black eyes. “Djinn or demon heritage?”

Gambit blinked in surprise. “Uh,  could be either. Might be something else. I’m an orphan. Never met my parents.”

She snorted. “Some people have all the luck.”

“Excuse me?”

The archmage sat back in the desk chair. “My mother caught a djinn once. She used the first two wishes on herself, but in a moment of uncharacteristic generosity, she used the third wish on me: I wish that my daughter would have the ability to absorb knowledge and power from all she has contact with. Of course, djinn don’t particularly like being captured and made slaves so rather than being a blessing, her wish for me became a curse.”

Gambit swallowed, not really sure why she was telling him this.

“Everything I know and can do with magic I stole from other people,” she said, “just by touching them.”

She lifted her hand a mere hair’s breath from Gambit’s face. His heart raced and he didn’t dare to move.

“If you haven’t been telling me the truth, I suggest you tell me now,” she said. “Because I am going to find out, one way or another.”

“I assure you,” Gambit said firmly, “I am but a simple thief who wishes you no harm.”

“That better be true, for you sake, because you won’t wake up again if it’s not.”

She touched him and everything went blank.

—

Gambit opened his eyes.

He was laying on the lounge in the archmage’s sitting room / study. His head pounded: it was the worst headache he had in years. He groaned and sat up.

“Ah, good, you’re awake.”

Gambit looked up to see the archmage walking towards him. She was now dressed in a long, green dress with slits up both sides of the skirt, long sleeves, and trimmed with black. She wore matching leggings and gloves, and knee-high black boots.

“You may call me Rogue,” she said as she stopped in front of him. “How’s the headache?”

“I’ve had worse,” Gambit replied. “Does this mean you’ve decided to believe me?”

“I got the proof from your own head that you were telling the truth. Except for the part about not entering a lady’s bedroom without her permission.” Rogue gave him a knowing smirk. “Apparently you will still do that to steal something.”

Gambit rubbed his head. “People usually keep the really good stuff in their bedrooms.”

Rogue chuckled and the sound surprised Gambit.

“So, uh, how long was I out for?” Gambit asked.

“Only an hour,” Rogue replied and sat down beside him. “I would like to make a deal with you, Gambit.”

The sound of his name startled him. He wondered just how much she had learnt of him from that curse of hers.

“A deal, huh?” Gambit asked warily.

“Yes. I have been thinking for some time now that I should leave this tower,” Rogue said, and sighed. “When I first came here, the area was remote and under developed. At some point, word got out that this was where I was hiding and now bounty hunters come from far and wide to collect. It’s tiresome, and it’s time I moved on.”

Gambit didn’t reply. He just looked at her with a sinking suspicion that he knew where this was headed.

“I would like you to take me with you,” Rogue said. “All I know of the world as it is right now is what I’ve gleaned from those who dare invade my home. That’s not enough for a well-rounded understanding.”

“I’m nor sure if that’s such a good idea—”

“Relax, I’m not asking you to baby-sit me forever. A few months, maybe a year.” She lifted her hand to forestall any objections. “And in exchange, you may take anything you want from my tower, and I will teach you magic.”

Gambit paused for a moment. “I already know magic.”

“You know a few parlour tricks,” Rogue replied with a wave of dismissal. “You’ve barely tapped into the potential of your efreeti heritage.”

“Efreeti?” Gambit repeated, unable to hide his surprise. “How can you know that?”

“I get power as well as knowledge,” Rogue said. “This is hardly the first time I’ve tasted djinni power.”

“This is… all very tempting, chère…” Gambit replied slowly, trying to think straight through his rapidly declining headache. “But taking you with me? I prefer to stay in the shadows, and you have a pretty big price on your head.”

“I know, it’s a risk for both of us.” Rogue smiled knowingly at him. “But you like high stakes.”

“I think I’m beginning to see why there’s a price on your head, chère,” Gambit said grumpily.

“Oh, you don’t know the half of it. My mother is a very ambitious woman. She found all sorts of ways to make my curse work for her.” Rogue sighed. “Ways that I regret to this day.”

Gambit fell silent.

“I think I know a way I can make everyone think I’m dead though. This imminent attack from the Rippers… I think I can solve two problems,” Rogue went on. “I’m going to let them in, and then bring the tower down.”

“You think people would actually think you’re dead?” Gambit asked.

Rogue shrugged. “At the very least, they won’t know where to look for me. The last time I was in public, I was a child. No one who’s seen me as an adult has lived to tell about it.”

“Not even the locals?”

“I showed them an illusory form. An old man,” Rogue said with a shake of her head. “People always seem to think of old men when they picture archmages.”

“Sneaky. But the people who put the bounty will know you’re a woman.”

“Still don’t know what I look like though.” Rogue stood. “I’m leaving regardless. Whether I go with you or without you is up to you. I need to go prepare to demolish the tower.” She lifted a hand as she started to walk off. “If you take anything, I’ll assume that means you’ve agree. And I will know if you take anything.”

Gambit let out a long, slow breath as she walked away, and laid back on the lounge. He did not like the fact that she’d siphoned all that personal information from him. On the other hand, in her shoes, would he have done any different? He wouldn’t have survived this long if he trusted everyone, and she couldn’t afford to trust everyone she met either: especially as most people of late had definitely been after the bounty on her head.

Learning more magic did appeal to him though. It appealed a lot. Many was the time he’d watched mages at work, fascinated by their skills. The most he could do was make things he touched blow up. It was fun, but not a particularly useful skill for a thief, except perhaps when a distraction was needed.

He preferred to work alone, the product of experience working with others. He was reluctant to even just travel with someone else. He wished he had a quick way of finding out if she was trustworthy. On the other hand, it had been that long since she’d last been outside, perhaps she didn’t even know.

He supposed, if they could make things work, she would make for a powerful ally. He could use more of those.

Further possibilities crosses his mind as he mulled it over. He supposed the worst case scenario was that he died, and that was always the worst case scenario. But the best case scenario was rich with rewards, exactly the kind of stakes he loved to play for.

Gambit sat up, the headache now gone. He looked around the room. He couldn’t see Rogue anywhere, but there was a noticable decrease in the number of things in the room. He suppose she already packed.

He picked himself up off the lounge and started looking through the shelves. Most of the remaining bottles and boxes left were empty, but he did find three potions and a couple of oils, all with magical properties, and neatly labelled.

“See anything you like?” Rogue asked.

Gambit jumped and looked over at her. “How’d you do that?”

“If we have a deal, I’ll teach you.”

“I don’t like this, chère. You know enough about me to play me like a fiddle, and I know next to nothing about you.”

Rogue sighed. “I know. I wish there had been another way, but…” she trailed off uncertainly.

“Yeah… Look, if we do this…” Gambit hesitated.

“You don’t want me to touch you.” Rogue said for him. “I understand.”

“Sorry if that seems rude.”

“No, I’d probably ask the same thing in your position. It’s not like I can turn it off.”

Gambit gaped at her. “You can’t turn it off?”

“No.”

“And you were a child when this happened?”

Rogue only nodded.

“Well that’s… that’s…” Words failed him briefly, then he frowned. “Wait, is it even safe for you to leave the tower? The world can get pretty crowded.”

“It needs to be direct skin contact. As long as I’m covered up, there’s no problem.” Rogue gestured to her clothing.

Gambit nodded slowly, still horrified that she’d been so deprived for so long. “Okay, we have a deal.”

He held out his hand to her. Slowly, Rogue extended her own hand to take his, and they shook on it.

“Thank you,” she said softly.

He gave a half-shrug. “What can I say? I’m a sucker for a damsel in distress. And magic. And loot. Especially magic loot.”

Rogue chuckled. “Let me show you the good stuff. Hmm… I think I have a ring of invisibility around here somewhere…”

“Oooh, really? I’ve always wanted one of those.”

[cutesuki--bakugou]

Ancient Soul

Time Travel, Quirkless, Feudal Japan AU

“Your soul does not belong here.” Those were words you never thought that you would hear. Now, thrown into the past in feudal Japan, you must find a way to survive, all while struggling to avoid the growing feelings for one hot-headed war general. War, romance, death and love drive you forward, to find the place where your soul truly belongs.

Bakugou Katsuki x Fem!Reader

Want to start from be beginning? Check the Ancient Soul tag. New chapters released every Wednesday as long as schedule permits.

Genre: Romance / Angst Story Rating: Explicit | Adult Themes, Sex, Death, Depictions of Violence, Alcohol

Chapter 7: A Cell

Chapter Rating: Teen | Cursing Words:  2986

The number of stairs that you had to climb to reach Lord Yagi’s chambers was more than you had ever climbed in your entire life. You lost count of how many flights you took, but your freshly cleaned body once again felt sticky with sweat and your legs felt like they would give out on you at any moment. You were so tired, but you barely had time to get dressed in clean clothing before Bakugou was trying to pull you away to meet the Lord of this castle. You hadn’t expected to get any rest first, but you so wished for it, especially by the time you reached the level of the castle that was your destination. 

“You do not speak unless you are spoken to,” Bakugou growled at you, looking you over as if to judge your appearance. “You will answer every question with truth. More than that, you will not gawk at the physical state of my Lord, or I will have you punished. Understand?” 

Although you were confused at what he meant, you nodded, nervously fiddling with the sleeve of your fresh kimono. With that, Bakugou gestured for the guard to open the door, which he did without another moment's hesitation. You followed Bakugou inside, and though you tried to keep your head down, you couldn’t help but look around at the exquisite decor and architecture. It was so beautiful that you barely heard the slightly weary and gentle voice speaking with Bakugou, though your attention was finally pulled to them with Bakugou’s harsh response. 

“I’m here to address our Lord, not you, Deku!” 

“Kacchan, please--” A man that was obviously level with Bakugou in status held up his hands in defense, though his expression was stern on his freckled face. With wild green hair, he hardly seemed like the warrior type, especially with how timidly he talked. “-- You know that you have to go through me first. No matter what you think, I am the Chief now--” 

“I don’t care. You hold no say in what I’ve come to talk about, so talking to you is pointless!” 

“I think talking to me about this prisoner isn’t pointless--” 

“I said let me through-!” 

“That’s enough!” 

A deep but weak voice boomed through the room, making you flinch and cower down into yourself a bit. Both men were silenced as well, quickly turning their heads to look further into the room. You hadn’t even noticed the frail-looking man that sat at a large throne-like seat, his clothing nearly swallowing him. Now that you gazed upon the sunken-in eyes and hollow cheeks, you understood what Bakugou had meant about Lord Yagi’s physical appearance. He was a mess of a man, seemingly on the verge of death at any moment. His yellow hair was unkempt, but you assumed that was just from lack of health and not from personal preference. Still, it was made clear to you that both younger men respected him greatly, as they followed his command for silence without even a huff of annoyance. 

“Young Bakugou, what is it that you wanted to discuss with me?” The harsh authority in Lord Yagi’s voice was no longer present, and he instead sounded like a kind and gentle man. Giving this ‘Deku’ one last glare, Bakugou approached the end of the stairs that led up to the throne, instantly getting down onto both knees to bow deeply to the floor. 

“My Lord, I have brought this woman to present to you. I believe she could be of great benefit to us.” 

“How so?” Lord Yagi’s gaze moved to you, instantly making your stomach bubble nervously. Quickly as to not make eye contact that could be considered disrespectful, you kept your head bowed and awaited instruction. “She seems like an ordinary woman to me. What is so special about her?” 

Bakugou rose to his feet, giving a sharp motion with his hand for you to approach. Timidly, you came up to stand beside him, keeping your eyes locked on the brilliant red cloth beneath your feet that covered the cold wooden floor. “We found her during our return, out by Shōshitsu Shrine.” You were surprised to hear Bakugou call it by the name you knew it in the modern world, and you assumed it had been known for its oddities for centuries. “I believe that she has special abilities that could help us.” 

“Abilities? Young Bakugou,” Lord Yagi’s voice seemed weary, as if he were unsure of what to do with this prospect. “Such things are dangerous.” 

“It’s nothing physical. She can accurately predict the future. I saw it happen, as did everyone in my party.” 

Silence fell over the room, and you couldn’t help but bite down on the inside of your cheek. It sounded absolutely ridiculous, but that must have been how he saw what you had done. Technically, it was true. You knew what was going to happen, for the most part, and could give your input to the best of your ability. The whole thing still just seemed like a mess, and the sigh that escaped Lord Yagi’s lips only confirmed to you that he thought the same.

The sickly man shifted a bit in his seat, though you still didn’t have the confidence to look up at him. “And how did she do this?” 

“She told us that there would be an ambush at Silver River, and there was. She also predicted our victory.” 

“Young Bakugou, for someone so intelligent, it seems odd to me that you would fall for such a farce.” 

“Huh?” Bakugou’s voice wavered a bit in confusion, and you could physically feel his confidence dwindling. “I don’t understand.”

“It’s obvious that she already knew it was going to happen because she knew about it. That’s the only logical explanation.” Lord Yagi stood, prompting you to glance up for just a moment to see him make his way down the stairs. You were surprised to see that he moved with a decent amount of ease, though that didn’t stop you from being anxious about his approach. “And she only guessed that you would win. It was just a way to keep herself inconspicuous.”  

Bakugou gave a small cough to clear his throat. “It didn’t seem like that to any of us on the road, My Lord. She is constantly talking about odd things, and she was dressed in these.. rags that I had never seen before. Myself and the others who were with me all believe she has powers of some sort.” 

“It’s impossible for me to believe that without seeing proof of it myself.” Coming to a stop in front of you, Lord Yagi finally addressed you directly. “What is your name, miss?” 

“U-Uhm… it’s [F/n] [L/n], Lord Yagi.” You bowed deeply at the waist, trying to control the trembling of your body. With a gesture of his hand, you stood back up straight, though you didn’t look up at him just yet. “It’s an honor to be in your presence.” 

“How polite. You don’t seem… dangerous or threatening in any way. It truly is a surprise that you have been able to trick my General.” 

“I assure you, I haven’t tricked anyone. I… I am no spy or enemy.” 

“I’ll have to beg your forgiveness on the fact that I cannot believe you. Many women these days know how to act innocent and foolish when they have ulterior motives.” Lord Yagi turned his attention back to Bakugou, who was waiting silently to be spoken to. “Young Bakugou, this isn’t safe. I cannot trust her without proof.” 

“But My Lord, I’ve seen it--” 

“And you, along with Young Midoriya, are someone I trust beyond all others. But this is dangerous. She could be in league with the enemy.” 

“I do not think so, I truly think we could use her!” 

“Fine.” Lord Yagi sighed, obviously too exhausted to spend too much energy on such an argument. “If you wish for her to be here, then she will be under your charge until she can be trusted. I will allow that. But… I find this whole situation to be in very poor taste, Young Bakugou. A very unwise decision…” With that, he began walking towards the green-haired man, whom you assumed to be the person he called Midoriya. “We have to look over some charts now. I expect a report of your battle within the week. For now, I leave you to deal with your prisoner.” 

As Lord Yagi and Midoriya vanished through a sliding door into a different room, you were left alone with Bakugou. His stiffness and silence worried you, so finding your strength, you turned your gaze up to look at him. A chill ran down your spine at the intensity of his glare that was locked onto you, the fire that normally adorned his gaze now turned to ice. You knew why. He had just humiliated himself, all because of you and your ‘powers’. He had wanted so badly to be looked upon by his Lord with respect and praise, but he got the opposite. 

“You made me look a fool.” 

“M-me?” You brought a hand up to your chest, glowering up at him. “How did I do that? I was barely even talked to, how is it my fault?” 

“Shut up, you Demon wench.” 

“I am not a demon! You don’t think that humiliated me, too? I don’t deserve to be treated like I’m some- some damn filthy prisoner! You trusted me enough to keep me unbound, even in front of your Lord, so what’s your deal?!” Your exhaustion had your patience dwindled to nothing, and the fact that he was blaming his failure on you had you at wit’s end. There was nothing you had done that warranted being treated like the enemy or with suspicion, and after all this time, you had expected more trust. “If you don’t want me, then give me a horse, and I’ll go try to find my way home!” 

“No! You’re staying here under my charge!” 

“To do what? Sit around until I wither away or until you think you can use me? I’m not an item, I’m a person!” 

“I don’t give a shit what you are,” Bakugou growled at you, making your confidence shrink down into nothing. You were intimidated by him, and although you knew you were in the right, his stature and power over your life made you quickly realize that it would be best to keep your mouth shut. “You are going to live in this palace, watched every moment and if you even think about stepping one foot out of the gates I will have you locked away.” He pointed a finger towards the entrance, to which you silently followed command and made your way in that direction. 

Frustrated, your eyes were burning with tears, yet you couldn’t find it within yourself to say or do anything about it. You had no means of escape or help, so you knew that all you could do was roll with it all and see what happens. Perhaps, there would be a chance for you to prove your ‘powers’ to Lord Yagi, which would probably increase your status or at least give you more leniency. The first chance I get, I’m going to do a prediction. I can’t let it slip past me, but I have a feeling that Bakugou won’t be coming to me for anything… I’ll have to catch them when they’re having a conversation. Just like before. 

Lost in your thoughts about what to do with yourself, you didn’t notice Tsuyu until you nearly rammed into her. Jerking yourself to a stop, you stuttered an apology, though it was quickly smothered by Bakugou’s voice as he addressed his subordinate. 

“As discussed, you will watch her. Let me know immediately of anything suspicious.” His voice almost sounded… strained, as if he were trying to hold back whatever emotion he was struggling with. You felt both angered by his attitude and sorry for him, as he had gone through a very rough couple of days. Though, the little voice in the back of your mind told you that, just maybe, he deserved it for how awful he had been to you. That little voice brought a strong sense of guilt to your stomach, however, knowing that it hadn’t been all bad. You knew that there must be a good man beneath the wall of shit he had built around himself. If there were others following him, with so much respect and obedience, then there must be more than ranking influencing them. You could see it on Tsuyu’s face, a slight furrow of her brow preceding a deep bow. 

“As you wish. I will keep you informed daily.” 

Without another word, Bakugou left you both, vanishing behind the building before you could even look back at him again. Finally out of his presence, you gave a heavy sigh, looking at Tsuyu as she stood up straight. “He’s really pissed at me…” 

Tsuyu nodded, beginning to lead you forward. “I assume it did not go as expected with Lord Yagi. He is a very… educated man, not to say Bakugou isn’t, but there is a difference there. It’s more of a… level-headedness, one which Bakugou lacks. It can cause him to be quite frustrated when he is corrected or when he realizes that he was wrong. He will calm down.” 

“So… you think he doesn’t believe I can predict the future anymore?” 

“Oh no, I don’t mean that at all. There is something odd about you for sure, Miss. And what you did at Silver River was astonishing. You have something uncanny about you, but only time will tell what it truly is.” 

“I think… Lord Yagi made him feel like it was a mistake to bring me. Like his ambitions about whatever he wanted to do were wrong.” 

“Perhaps.” Tsuyu stopped, carefully sliding open a wall panel. “I cannot say for sure since I wasn’t there. I will say this, though. You should keep all that happens to you and your thoughts to yourself. I may not be the only one listening.” 

Frown crossing your lips, you nodded, glancing into the dimly lit room. “I’m sorry, you’re just so easy to talk to.” 

Tsuyu nodded, a small smile of her own crossing her lips. “I suppose that’s what can make me so dangerous. I make you feel a little too comfortable.” Although it didn’t seem like her words were meant to be menacing, it still reminded you that she was some type of assassin, and probably had a blade that the ready beneath her kimono sleeve. “I had fresh clothing brought for you for in the morning and we will have a servant come to take your dirty clothes to wash them daily. This will be your quarters until it is seen fit to move you to a more spacious area.” 

“Ah, I like the small size…” You walked into the room after leaving your sandals at the entrance. The tatami flooring creaked a bit under your feet, and you felt relieved to be back in some sort of civilization. “I lived in a very small room before. I wouldn’t know what to do with more space. Though this is more…” Your voice trailed off a bit at the negative thoughts, your eyes moving to the traditional futon bed that rested near the middle of the room. 

“Don’t think of it as a cell, Miss.” Tsuyu finished your thought for you, surprising you a bit at how well she could assume your thoughts. “This is your home now, and you can travel the palace as you wish with me as your guide. It will take some time for you to be happy here and gain the trust of others, but I believe that you’ll find a way.” 

Feeling the burning tears return to your eyes, you sniffled a bit, reaching up to wipe your eyes with the back of our sleeve. “Thank you, Tsuyu…” 

“Please, call me Tsu.” With a gentle smile, Tsuyu took hold of the door again, preparing to shut it. “Goodnight, Miss. I will be here in the morning.” 

“You’re not gonna camp out all night?” 

“Oh, no. I have to sleep too!” Tsuyu gave a soft laugh, nodding towards her left. “No, there will be guards here. You’re safe. Now, get some sleep.” The doors slid closed with a soft tick, leaving you alone in silence and dim light. 

Taking a deep, trembling breath, you took a moment to remove all your clothing except for the white robe that was your final layer. Keeping it tied, you knelt beside the futon, pulling back the thick blanket that covered it and adjusting the tiny head pillow. Although it wasn’t what you were used to, it was heaven compared to the hard and bumpy ground outside, and you felt a huge sense of relaxation when you finally laid down. Though, now that you were finally alone for the first time since this horrible catastrophe, you began to feel a wave of emotion crash over you. 

At this rate, you would never see anyone you loved ever again. Your parents, family, friends or even your beloved cat. They were surely grieving heavily for you by now, searching everywhere in the woods around that horrible shrine. You could only hope that no one would come across the same fox that had cursed you, so that they wouldn’t suffer the same or even a worse fate. You were now just a memory to them, as they were to you, and that ripped at your already wounded heart. 

Turning over on your side, you hid your face into the pillow as you sobbed, pulling the blanket up to completely cover your head. 

And this night, too, would become nothing but a memory.

[republicstandard]

The Un-Making of the West, Vol. III: Behead Those Who Say Islam is Violent

In Europe, approximately five percent of Sweden’s population consists of Muslim males, and yet they account for 77% of total rapes in that country; by one estimate, 95% of all crime in Sweden is committed by “migrants.” In one year alone, the number of sexual assaults committed by “migrants” living in Austria jumped 133% from 2015 to 2016. In 2015, again, in one year alone, crimes committed by Muslim migrants in Germany jumped 79%. In the first six months of 2016, Muslims migrants committed an average of 780 crimes a day. 56% of the Syrian migrants living in Britain have committed crimes within the last year. Over three quarters of the crime committed in Denmark’s capital, Copenhagen, is by these “migrants.” Roughly 6% of Belgium’s population is Muslim, but 35% of its prison population is. 8-10% of France’s population is Muslim, but estimates ranging from 40-70% of their prison population is. Around 4% of Spain’s population is Muslim, but 70% of its prison population is. A majority of Britain’s prison population is now Muslim. Nine out of the ten most “criminally inclined” ethnic groups in Europe hail from Muslim-majority nations.

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In Australia, Victoria police stated that in 2012 Sudanese (0.1% of the population) and Somali (0.05% of the population) immigrants were approximately five times more likely to commit crimes than other state residents. The rate of offending was 1301.0 per 100,000 for native Australians in Victoria, whereas for the Sudanese it was 7109.1 per 100,000 individuals and 6141.8 per 100,000 for Somalis. The Sudanese and Somalis seem to have a particular affinity for assault, which represents 29.5% for Sudanese and 24.3% for Somalis of their offences. Three years later, Victoria police data showed that male Sudanese “youths” were “vastly over-represented” in criminal behavior, responsible for 7.44% of home invasions, 5.65% of car thefts, and 13.9% of aggravated robberies. Again, keep in mind the Sudanese are 0.1% of Victoria’s population, and young males are only maybe a quarter to a sixth of that 0.1%. That is an astounding overrepresentation. In January 2018, Acting Chief Commissioner Shane Patton stated that, “We have for a significant period of time said that there is an issue with overrepresentation by African youth in serious and violent offending as well as public disorder issues.” Victoria Police noticed youth offending "go to a new level" in 2016, and the State Government responded by:

Adding resources to the gangs squad and special operations group

Recruiting 3,135 additional frontline police

Funding an intelligence system, bulletproof vehicles and other technology and resources.

Fretting over diversity makes permissible the fact that Muslims account for 1% of the U.S. population but 40% of its workplace discrimination claims. That’s the erosion of your social capital at work! The United States issues over 1.6 million green cards to people from Muslim-majority nations between 2001 and 2013. From the Office of Refugee Resettlement Annual Report to Congress Fiscal Year 2013, we know that 19.7% of Middle Eastern refugees get public housing, 68.3% receive cash assistance, 73.1% get Medicaid or RMA, and 91.4% receive food stamps. Muslims have been responsible for a full third of mass shootings over the past half-decade yet we are told to fear conservative Christians. We also get the benefit of Islam’s progressivism; as Abul Ala Mawdudi, the founder of Jamaat-e-Islami, in what can also be read as a ringing endorsement for identity politics pledges:

All those who are born of Muslim lineage will be considered to be Muslim, they will be subject to all Islamic laws, they will be compelled to perform the religious duties and obligations, and then whoever steps outside the fold of Islam will be executed. Following this announcement utmost effort should be made to save as many sons and daughters born of Muslims as possible from the lap of kafir. Then whoever cannot be saved by any means should be cut off and cast away, sadly but firmly, from his society forever. After this act of purification a new life for Islamic society may begin.

After all, It is not like a 1,400-year-and-counting jihad waged against Christendom has now been welcomed to our shores with open arms! This “purification” is nothing less than the implementation of sharia law in all of its repressive, regressive glory. As the American mouthpiece for sharia law proponents, Left-wing darling Linda Sarsour was recently named one of Glamour magazine’s Women of the Year for her organizing role in the George Soros-funded “intersectional” Women’s March in New York City this past year, representing further proof that the Left and Islam are bedfellows in one of the most hideous, appalling manifestations of ignorance and irrationality I’ve ever seen. As Ayaan Hirsi Ali notes:

The identity politics of our time has created a language of political correctness that sometimes verges on censorship. We have allowed the voice of the group, or whoever claims to represent the group, not only to speak for the individual, but sometimes to shout down the individual if his or her story does not fit with an approved narrative. We claim to fight for women’s rights, but we are not supposed to talk about the immense suffering of women in the Middle East because that might be construed as being offensive to Muslims. We are witnessing a major cultural shift in support for gay marriage across the West, but Iran remains beyond our criticism, even as the regime hangs gays, because that might be condemned as Islamophobic.

That’s right, even if you’re gay, you better shut your fucking mouth and accept that you’ve been superseded in the oppression hierarchy by Muslims, who ironically want to oppress and even better kill you. If you are gay, you must accept the implementation of “intersectional” sharia with nary a protestation! Don’t question the crater-sized blind spots and leaps in logic it takes to get to the point where, as Bruce Bawer informs us:

[In] the current progressive pecking order among officially recognized oppressed groups gays (especially affluent white gay American males) are at the bottom of the ladder; Muslims are at the very top. Which means that when gays criticize Islam, a decent progressive is supposed to scream “Islamophobe”; but when Muslims drop gays to their deaths off the roofs of buildings, one is expected to look away and change the topic…So it is that we end up seeing grotesquely absurd pictures of gay people waving banners that decry Islamophobia or that declare gay solidarity with Palestine.

Islam does not proscribe the killing of homosexuals; the only textual disagreements regard how the homosexuals should be killed. And I quote: (from the Quran 7:80-84) “For ye practice your lusts on men in preference to women: ye are indeed a people transgressing beyond bounds.... And we rained down on them a shower (of brimstone).” Lest you think I’m cherry-picking, this story is repeated at three other junctures in the Quran: 15:74, 27:58, and 29:40. Ali threw a “sodomite” from a minaret, and Abu Bakr burned a gay man at the stake. Good stuff.

If we listen to British imam Allama Muhammad Farooq Nazimi, it is clear that, “There is absolutely no doubt about it that the punishment for the person who shows disrespect for the Prophet is death,” so being even mildly critical of or satirizing Muhammad is a death sentence (see: Charlie Hebdo). By the way, the same television network (Noor TV) that aired Nazimi’s Koranic interpretations also literally sold indulgences and asked viewers to make donations of £1,000 in return for the “special gift” of dirt from Muhammad’s tomb! We wonder why homophobic attacks are on the rise in the West; it can’t possibly have anything to do with mass immigration from the Muslim world and Islam’s antipathy toward homosexuals, can it? According to the Orlando Pulse nightclub shooter Omar Mateen’s father, what likely set him off is that, “He saw two men kissing each other in front of his wife and kid and he got very angry,” while noting that the shooting “had nothing to do with religion.” Hillary Clinton concurs: “Let’s be clear: Islam isn’t our enemy. Hateful rhetoric against Muslims isn’t just wrong—it plays into terrorists’ hands.” Got it.

The head of CAIR’s Florida chapter, Hassan Shibly, went on a diatribe against homosexual marriage on Facebook while publicly claiming his “overwhelming love and support and unity” for and with the LGBTQ-AEIOU community. The CAIR-affiliated The Muslims of America, Inc. (TMOA), headed by one Mubarak Ali Gilani, called the Supreme Court’s decision to legalize gay marriage, “A black day in the history of mankind.” I obviously find Gilani’s use of the adjective “black” to be highly problematic, but not as problematic, perhaps, as Iranian Ayatollah Javadi-Amoli regards homosexuality and the Western politicians that allow homosexuals basic human dignity: “Even dogs and pigs don’t engage in this disgusting act, but yet [Western politicians] pass laws in favor of them in their parliaments.”

Even the Jews, who notoriously love this open-borders stuff for everywhere but Israel—“because in the future we might need it”—are getting a little uncomfortable with the proliferation of unkempt beards stalking the streets bellowing that they will “Strike terror in the enemies of Allah!” (Quran 8:60). Jewish gay porn actor and director Michael Lucas sees things a little differently:

Now that we are talking about Muslim homophobia, it is becoming very inconvenient for liberals because liberals are apologists for Islam. So it is becoming very inconvenient, and that is why they usually tie it to some specific person; specific bad leader.

Muslims, remember, love the Jews as much as they love they gays, if not more:

The Hour will not begin until the Muslims fight the Jews and the Muslims will kill them, until a Jew hides behind a rock or a tree, and the rock or tree will say: O Muslim, O slave of Allah, there is a Jew behind me, come and kill him. Except the gharqad (a thorny tree), for it is one of the trees of the Jews.

It appears that the issue is less to do with religion, and more to do with the fact that, as Michelle Obama recently stated, we are raising boys to be ���entitled” and “self-righteous”.

The issue here is obviously toxic masculinity. Wait, scratch that: “The problem is not toxic masculinity; it’s that masculinity is toxic,” says Lisa Wade. How can we combat this crushing masculinity when the patriarchy has removed all agency from women and People of Color, or indeed if, as Wade vis-à-vis Raewyn Connell proclaims, “Men becoming more feminine and women becoming more masculine may produce gender equality, but it ‘may do just the reverse.’” In all seriousness, this statement is itself a closed loop, and by its very construction does not allow for a resolution. It is an excuse for perpetual grievance. Okay, back to the fun, per Wade: “We should be as suspicious of males who strongly identify as men as we are of white people who strongly identify as white.” Identity, it would seem, is only for a select group—the rest have no claim to identity politics, which, as I’ve written before, conforms to the notion of Leftism as a negation, or an ideology in negative.

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Nor should we want to be wholly tethered to the reductive aspects of identity, which is intensely personal and transcends “box-checking”; that said, as it pertains to group identity, the central premise of racial-civilizational identitarianism for all groups is that there is something special about their group that is worth preserving. It is about emphasizing the positive aspects of one’s race as it creates unique cultures and civilizations. “Identity politics” as practiced by the Left is an “identity-for-me-but-not-for-thee” which doubles as a straw-manning of everyone on the conservative or libertarian side of the political beliefs spectrum as “Alt-Right,” which is backfiring on them in spectacular fashion as it both gives the Alt-Right far more traction in the mainstream and it also drives people curious about what the Alt-Right may be to seek out its ideas. What’s more, by labeling anyone who dissents from Leftist orthodoxy a Nazi, a signal is sent that a person could think that by rights if the end result is going to be the same, they might as well go to the “extreme” rather than futz around in the middle. Why do the same amount of time for a minor crime? A full embrace of European-derived identity across the West is inevitable, but will it be too little too late?

Unfortunately, we are trying to combat ideologies that are fundamentally unreasonable, and the Left and its Islamist allies don’t appear to be backing down any time soon. They cannot, in fact, because the premise of their entire project hinges on Abul Ala Mawdudi’s “purification,” on the imposition of their divinely-received dictums which govern every aspect of life from hygiene to sex to diet. Nothing less than global subjugation will do. The question is, however, who will carry the day? Will it be the prancing trannies, or will their veneration of weakness generate a power vacuum to be filled by Islamic supremacists? Or are they both the dupes of someone else?

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