#how dare this world ignore this diamond in the rough?

[alexoreality]

....

random ass AU where everything is normal but Luffy's a music prodigy. Like he just k n o w s how to play any instrument, but because of the handicap of being poor; he never had the chance to play one.

[a-lurking-fae]

Thinking about the reader being Focalors/Furina's grandchild. What if they adopted a child, and let's say that the kid could have been transported between worlds, they end up in Gotham, taken in by Martha and Thomas Wayne.

Now, after a couple of years, readers mom ends up with Bruce. He takes in Dick, then Jason, after your mom gets pregnant, and during childbirth, she dies. Instead of Bruce neglecting the reader because "They were the reason why my love is dead." type of neglect (っ- ‸ - ""), which is always pretty stupid if you ask me,

He can't look at the reader because you look like a mix of both the two women he has truly loved in his life. His mother, the one who sang him bedtime songs, the one who brought him to his love, your mother. The one who accepted him for his faults, the one who was there during rough times, the one who gave him the greatest gift of all time— you.

But instead of treasuring the precious diamond he was given, Bruce ends up throwing you away. A shame, really, after all, how can he look at you without being reminded of them? How can he look into your eyes, which took the shape of his mother, and held those (e/c) eyes that used to look at him with so much love?

Dick would also have a hard time acknowledging you. After all, you were sort of the reason why his mother had died (reader's mom), but you were her child too. You can't experience what he and Jason got from her, bedtime stories and all.

But at the same time, he can't help but look a little closer, enamoured by the same eyes that saw him, acknowledged him, loved him. He really doesn't know what to do, so he avoids you when he has the chance.

Now, Jason— he's a good child before he died. He's definitely your best friend before he died. How can he not love you? The child of his parents, how could he possibly turn away from you? So imagine his surprise and disappointment when both Bruce and Dick actively ignore you.

Oh, he is angry. How dare they! He argues with them during meal times, but they shut him down! Let's time skip a few years now, Jason is dead, then he turns up alive, apparently?

You try to approach him, hoping he was still that big brother you once knew, even though he looks a bit scary and big right now! He avoids you like the plague, you don't recognise your big brother anymore...

When Tim was taken in by Bruce, you hoped that you'd form a bond with your new brother, and he's very smart too! You hope he can help you with homework, but he says that you're not really worth his time. That stung a bit!

Then Cassandra, Barbara, and Stephanie are in the picture. You still had a bit of hope that you'd bond with your sisters! They might be different from your brothers! Ah— it's the same thing over again.

Finally, Damian, he's your younger brother. Clinging on to your last hope, you approach him, hoping— but to no one's surprise, he rejects you. He hates you so much. He hates that you were so weak, how, although he is strong, forced to cater to his mother and grandfather's wishes, robbed of the childhood he dreamed of, you ended up with a peaceful childhood, the one thing he always wanted. (He didn't know you were robbed, too.)

It's honestly your last straw, so after packing your bags, you head to your mother's home— Fontaine, and it's a hell lot more nicer than Gotham. The fresh breeze of the sea, cute adorable sea creatures, and a whole lot more things you could explore!

Your grandfather, Neuvillette, adored you, both of your grandmothers who loved you so much, the friends you made in Fontaine, even adventures you went off to. It's no surprise that you didn't want to go back. Yeah, Alfred would miss you a lot— but you're sure he'd be happy to know that you're in a better place, safe from the crime-filled-gotham!

Now, enjoy the last days in Teyvat because they want you back. How could they not? Bruce and Dick never hated you— no. They'd kill themselves before that. It's just that it hurt too much to see you! But, they've realised their mistakes now, they'll make it up to you, don't worry! Bruce will throw you lavish parties anytime you want! He has deep pockets, after all, and that old room of yours? Your new room will be next to him, to make sure you're safe.

Dick will be there for you. Even though he wasn't there before, he'll be next to you every step of the way this time and make no mistakes. He won't let you out of his sight, not anymore. You can count on the best big brother in Gotham to make sure you'll be safe. With a little help from Tim, who'll place trackers on you when you get home. It's for safety precautions, you'll understand.

Jason blew when he realised you've been missing for weeks— and none of them have noticed! He was the best big brother to you, right? Won't you come back home to him? He knows you, and both of you could bond by the things you guys used to love, right? You probably still like the colour (f/c) you don't anymore. He'll cook your favourite food with you, and all you have to do right now is to come back home.

Casandra, although a perceptive person, she never realised the small figure that trailed behind her grew up, not to be seen in weeks. She knew something was missing. The small figure that she'd see in the kitchen during ungodly hours, who'd leave her little notes of praise time-to-time, was not there anymore.

Every time Barbara and Tim had migraines, you'd be there, handing a tray with two cups and medication. They wondered where those always came from, and then it suddenly stopped. To think it was their sweet baby sibling all along! Those little hints that you were there weren't really noticed, but they appreciated you and the small actions you did for them. They want to repay the favour, don't you wanna play games with Tim? Or get ice cream with big sis Babs?

Damian will demand attention from you. How dare you give your love to those good for nothing children of lower breeding, he's your blood brother! Sure, he said he hates you— but he really didn't mean it! He didn't know you were robbed of the same childhood as him. And without his older sibling, how can you expect a complete family? You don't have to worry about being weak. He'll protect you. He's strong enough for both of you.

Neuvillette is having trouble closing the multiple portals they tried to create. With the help of the Justice league, of course. Don't worry they'll get you back sooner or later.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ

This was already posted!<33

[thebadgerclan]

SFW Alphabet: Kaz Brekker

Requested by Anonymous

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

With his fear of touch, it takes Kaz a while to be comfortable with physical affection, but he slowly gets there.  It starts slowly, with him holding your hand with his gloves on, putting an arm around your shoulders and waist, then holding your hand without the gloves, kissing your forehead, cheeks, and eventually your lips.  After a few months of working through his fear, he’s open to holding you for longer periods of time.  Kaz wants so badly to be physically affectionate with you, but with his phobia, it’s slow going, but he does get there

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Kaz doesn’t really do “friends”, more like allies.  But to have him as an ally, someone you knew you can rely on, that carries a lot of weight in the Barrell.  If you ever find yourself in a tight spot, you know you can call on Kaz for help, and he’ll be there, usually with a few other members of the Dregs

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Like I said in A, physical affection is something that you and Kaz have to work towards.  But once he’s comfortable with cuddling, it easily becomes one of his favorite things.  He likes to spoon you, his arms around your waist, nose buried in your hair, legs entwined.  Kaz also likes it when you lay facing him, your head buried in his chest, his hands rubbing your back.  He might not admit it, but on bad days, whether with his leg or his phobia, he loved being the little spoon, letting you hold him close and shut out the outside world

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Kaz does want to settle down, but with the Dregs, it’s not really a possibility.  So you settle for sharing a room and spending every night in each other’s arms.  But you do talk about what your future will be like when Kaz eventually gets a big payout from a job: a mansion, fancy clothes, a massive diamond ring (that’s Kaz’s addition).  He cooks well enough to keep himself alive, but to be honest, he’s not the best

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?) I feel like he’d be really cold and practical about it, but he’d cry when he’s alone.  “This isn’t working, Y/N,” he says.  “We can’t be together and work together, pick one.”  Once he’s alone in his room at the Slat, he breaks down, knowing he just lost the only good thing in his life since Jordie

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Kaz fully intends to marry you, once he has enough money for a proper ceremony, one that meets every single one of the dreams you’ve had since childhood.  He gets you a simple ring, a small diamond on a silver band, and asks you to marry him.  It’s a simple proposal, but it’s romantic all the same.  “Y/N, darling, I love you more than anything else in this world.  Marry me, please, my love, make me your husband.”  He proposes after 2ish years of dating, well after he’s gotten over his fear of touch (with you at least)

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Kaz has a reputation for being ruthless and violent, but with you, he’s sweet, tender, and unbelievably gentle.  Once again, once he’s over his phobia, his touch is always gentle and tender.  He never raises his voice at you, he never even thinks about hurting you.  You are his treasure, worth more than any amount of money (and when I say “over his phobia”, I mean he’s comfortable with touching you, I know that he has deep seated trauma that will never go away.  But, in my opinion, Kaz is able to work through his trauma and work towards being able to touch his girl),

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Again, after working through his phobia, Kaz LOVES hugs.  Your arms are a sanctuary, a place where he can ignore the hustle and bustle of Ketterdam, work from the Crow Club and the Dregs, and anything that’s bothering him.  He’ll often come up to you and pull you into his arms, chin resting atop your head.  His hugs are warm and safe, you know that when you’re in his arms, nothing can hurt you

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

After about 8 months, Kaz is at the point that he’s able to hold your hand without his gloves.  You’d been so patient and understanding with him, and he took your hand, risking pressing a kiss to the back of it (something else he’d recently become comfortable with was kissing your cheek and forehead).  “Thank you for being so patient with me, Y/N, I love you so much.  My girl, I love you.”

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Kaz gets jealous very easily.  If anyone gets too close to you, he’s on edge.  Even if it’s Jesper, who has little to no interest in any female, Kaz still is jealous.  He comes to your side, either taking your hand, putting an arm around your shoulders, or pulling you flush against him (depending on where he’s at in terms of working through his trauma)

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Tentative at first, when kissing is new to him.  Light, short pecks on your forehead and cheeks, before progressing to your lips.  Then they linger for a few seconds, mainly on your lips, and eventually, he gets to the point where he wants to kiss you every waking second, lips on yours until he nearly passes out.  Once he’s really comfortable with kissing, his kisses are passionate, the love he has for you palpable in the inches between you.  Kaz likes to kiss you basically everywhere: forehead, cheek, nose, lips, neck, other intimate areas ;D.  He likes to be kissed on the cheek, jaw, neck, lips (duh), and his hands. You’re one of very few people who get to see and touch his hands, so having you kiss them makes his heart flutter

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

Honestly, he hates them.  I mean, remember what he said to that little girl in Crooked Kingdom?  He just doesn’t like them, there’s not much room to elaborate on that.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Most mornings, you wake to Kaz’s lips against your temple, his arms around your middle.  “Good morning, my love.”  He is loath to get out of bed in the mornings and leave your embrace, but he’s got a club to run.  Even so, he’ll spend an extra 20 minutes or so just holding you, soaking in your love and presence (This is all after he’s comfortable w/ touch, btw)

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

(Same as above, after Kaz is comfortable w/ touch)  Kaz tends to work late, so most nights, you have to drag him to bed.  You wrap your arms around his shoulders, kissing his neck.  “Come to bed, Kaz.  It’s late.”  He’ll sigh, moan about how much work he has to do, but he;ll let you herd him into bed

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

A loooooooooong time, both in regards to physical touch and the trauma he’s been through.  You know that he’s been through a lot, and you don’t push him, because you know that Kaz will tell you when he’s ready.  And sure enough, he does.  Slowly, he tells you about Jordie, the plague, how Rollins swindled him, everything about his past.  Time is your best friend in a relationship with Kaz

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

In general, fairly fast, but with you, he’s hardly angry.  On a job, Kaz can’t afford to be too patient, when he needs something, he needs it now, and he’s not afraid to do whatever he needs to get it.  But you’re a different story, with you, Kaz has endless patience.  He might snap at you at the start of your relationship, but he always apologizes immediately afterwards.  Love is new to him, so he needs you to be patient as well.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?) Kaz has the memory of an elephant, he has to with the jobs he does,  So he remembers every single thing you tell him, important or not.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

Cliche, but the first time he kissed you.  Kaz was finally comfortable enough with that level of intimacy, and he’d removed his gloves, cupped your face in his hands, and kissed you, a long, sweet, lingering kiss.  He cried, but they were happy tears.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

You’re dating the Bastard of the Barrell, Kaz is insanely protective of you.  Whenever you go somewhere without Kaz, he has a few members of the Dregs trail you, at a distance, just to make sure that if something happens, you’re protected.  But if he can, Kaz goes everywhere with you, you on his arm, glaring at anyone who might dare cross you, as if to say “Hands off, she’s mine”

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Kaz leads a busy life, so proper dates don’t happen all that often.  But when they do, Kaz goes all out, he books a reservation at the best restaurant in Ketterdam, roses, expensive wine, the works.  Other date type things are like a private dinner in his office and simple gifts, like candy and things you’ve mentioned you want

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

It’s not a bad habit, but it’s definitely an obstacle in a relationship: his haphephobia.  He can be a little rough around the edges, and he’s pretty resistant to the idea of a relationship until he realizes how hard he’s fallen for you

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Kaz is always dressed and groomed immaculately.  A fitted three piece suit, his hair slicked back, fedora, leather gloves, shoes shined to a mirror gleam.  He takes pride in his appearance, he came from nothing, and he’s built a little empire for himself, and he’s damn proud of it

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

At first he thinks he wouldn’t, but then there’s a job that goes south, and you get hurt, and I’m talking badly hurt.  Life-threateningly bad.  Nina patches you up in seconds, but you’re unconscious and weak for a few days.  Kaz doesn’t leave your side once, his hand clutching yours.  “Please, Y/N,” he begs to your sleeping form.  “Please be alright.  I can’t live without you.  I love you, Y/N, I love you so much.  Please, wake up, my love.”

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

On your 9 month anniversary, Kaz got a third tattoo.  Above the crow and cup, next to the capital R, now resides your initials

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Kaz cannot be with someone who doesn’t respect his boundaries.  If you take his hand without thinking before he’s alright with it, but release it immediately and apologize, he’s shaken but alright.  But if you do it and don’t let go or don’t apologize, it’s a massive dealbreaker

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

Kaz has trouble sleeping in storms, the rain reminds him of the tide on the Reaper’s Barge.  But cuddle him and he’s out like a light

[nessinborderland]

Be Mine (03)

Pairing: Niragi x Reader / Chishiya x Reader

Genre: Smut, Angst, Fluff, Omegaverse

Word Count: 4.8k

Summary: You were able to stay unbounded throughout your life. You didn't want an Alpha; you didn't need one. You would rather die than to give yourself to some random male. But the man that saved your life thinks differently.

Warnings: Alpha/Omega, Dubious Consent, Vaginal Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Finger fucking, Rough Sex, Rough Kissing, Unprotected Sex, Creampie, Breeding, Pregnancy Kink, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Drama, Developing Relationship, Past Abuse, Scars

Notes: Would like to thank everyone that has been liking, reblogging and commenting on this fic, I see ya’ll and I love you. It means the world to me <3 I’m so glad people are liking my lil Niragi work. My dm’s and ask box are open if you ever feel like saying hi and/or scream over stuff in general with me lol. Enjoy!

AO3 Link        Masterlist

You had woken up to an empty bed the next morning. You had laid there, staring at the ceiling and rewinding every moment of the last twenty-four hours in your head, over and over. How things had changed so fast. How so much had happened already. You didn't know if you should feel sad or relieved by Niragi's absence; you weren't sure if you wanted to face him after what had happened last night. You still remembered the look in his eyes, his promise, how he made you feel. It was all so...overwhelming.

A week has passed without you speaking with Niragi. You barely caught a glimpse of him beside the occasional moments where you see him from afar with his group of militants, usually coming from or going on raids. You tried to talk to him on several occasions, but he was out of sight before you could get close enough. You also changed rooms after that first night, and part of you was hoping to see him barge in to take you back to his room. But it never happened.

He is avoiding you.

That or maybe he is usually that busy. Either way, you don’t like how this whole situation makes you feel. Yeah sure, maybe you aren’t exactly being the most approachable person either, but you are...scared. This is all so new for you. His scent has practically disappeared from your skin, and you can feel yourself getting restless again. Especially when he is close.

You don’t see him, but you can feel his eyes on you. You can smell the peppermint in the air every time he is close. You usually walk around the hotel alone or just stay in your bedroom. Walking around by yourself is nerve-wracking; the constant whispers, the stares, the way people either avoid you or get way too close to you. But you can feel him always close by, watching you.

Chishiya.

You honestly don’t know if you should feel safe or afraid. Afraid that he will use his influence as an Alpha to take you as Niragi did the first time you met. At least Chishiya hasn’t tried hunting you down yet. Even though stalking you around like a cat chasing a mouse isn’t much different.

You’re now in a car with Ann, exhausted, wet from head to toe, but alive. Another game where your skills were evaluated; another game where you won without particularly impressing her. You always feel like you’re alive out of sheer luck and the help of others. It bothers you more than you dare to say. You have already been evaluated in games of Clubs and Diamonds, and you’re sure you would be dead if it wasn’t for Ann and the other players.

You can’t understand how people can be so smart at these hell games. Yes, you were successful at solving the riddle that allowed you to win the game of Diamonds, but since when was that impressive? You would still have been eaten by that shark in the game of Clubs without everyone else’s help.

“How are you holding up, Kenji?” you ask the young man sitting beside you. His arm is bandaged with a t-shirt already drenched in blood and his face is pale. He turns to you with a half-smile.

“Alive, thanks to you,” he says, moaning in pain when the car rides over a bump. “Thank you for that, by the way. For coming back for me.”

“It was the right thing to do.” you shrug with a smile, “Besides, I almost got eaten too.”

You can feel Ann’s eyes on you through the rearview mirror. You wonder what she’s thinking. It’s like you’re back in high school, waiting for an important evaluation. You hate it.

The car finally parks in the Beach’s parking lot and you get out, helping Kenji to his feet before two men come to take him to the infirmary. You’re walking away to get inside when Ann calls your name.

“A lot of people wouldn’t have done what you did,” she says. “That was brave of you. And stupid.”

“Uhh, thanks?” you stand there awkwardly as she seems to assess you through those big sunglasses of hers. “I just-”

“What do you see in him?” she asks after a pause, interrupting you. “You have nothing in common.”

You don’t know what to answer; shared interests and personality traits are not exactly what attracted you to each other. You shrug, “Wolf things I guess.” It’s not exactly something easy to explain. You also would rather not give it too much thought.

Ann hums, shaking her head. “Just be careful,” and walks away before you can even think of an answer.

You’re about to make your way inside when the sound of tires screeching makes you look back. The militants arrived from the games. You instantly see Niragi as he gets out of a vehicle, and you desperately want to approach him. He makes his way to the entrance at a fast pace, rifle on his shoulder as he’s followed by the rest of the militants. His pace falters when his gaze falls on you, but he doesn’t stop as he passes by you without a word.

“Niragi!” you’re calling before you can think twice.

He stops in his tracks, making everyone behind him stop too. More than twenty pairs of eyes lock on you as you stand there, heat growing on your cheeks. Why the hell did I call him, you think to yourself before clearing your throat.

“Hmm, could I speak to you? In private?”

He sighs. “I can’t right now. I’m going back out,” he says in a dismissive tone. You can’t help but notice the dark circles under his eyes; you worry if he’s been getting enough sleep lately. “We’ll talk when I get back.” and with that, he turns his back on you and walks away, followed by his group.

He’s definitely avoiding you. You wonder why; was it all the rejecting? Maybe he finally realized you are more trouble than pleasure. Maybe he regrets his promise to you, made in an inebriated state?

It was your disgusting scars, a mean voice in your head whispers.

You flinch. Whatever it is, you hope that he will at least be straightforward and honest with you. Eventually.

You try not to overthink it as you get to your room and go straight to the bathroom, getting rid of your wet clothes before jumping in the warm shower. The thing you probably like the most about the Beach is the showers. That and the good food; there’s always a tray of delicious meals delivered to your room three times a day. You can definitely get used to those small luxuries.

You finish your shower just in time to receive your dinner tray. You eat your meal in bed, a book you found while outside laying open on your knees as you take occasional spoonfuls of your rabbit stew. The sound of laughter and loud talking makes you frown for the third time in half an hour. One of the things you dislike the most about the Beach; the constant partying.

You give up on the book and decide to sleep, hoping that your exhaustiveness will win against the noise of your next-door neighbors.

It does not.

You’re knocking on their door moments later. A man opens the door, clearly beyond drunk, if his breath and slurred speech are anything to go by.

“Could you guys please keep it down?” you ask. "I'm trying to sleep." The man stares you up and down with a smirk, and you give a small step back.

“Yo, guys guess who came to pay us a visit!” he says behind him. You can see three men sitting at a table, playing what you guess is poker, several beer bottles scattered around them. You think you recognize one of them as part of the militants. Maybe coming here wasn’t a good idea after all.

“Isn’t that Niragi’s bitch?” “Ask her if she wants to join us!” is what you hear them say above the laughter. Yes, bad idea. You put your arms around you, wishing you were wearing something more besides your cotton shorts and Niragi’s shirt.

“Listen, just keep the noise to a minimum, that’s all I’m asking.” you quickly say before turning around to walk back to your room. A hand grabs your arm before you can take more than a couple of steps.

“Why don’t you join us?” says the man. His friends stand behind him, a look in their eyes that makes you shiver with apprehension. “We could show you a good time.”

“Thanks but no, thanks, I’m just trying to get some sleep.”

“You can sleep here, we don’t mind.” he retorts with a pull to your arm. “C’mon-”

“Haru, this isn’t a good idea,” warns the guy you had recognized. “She’s with Niragi.”

Haru laughs and pulls you closer, ignoring your struggle. He sniffs your hair. “Then he has been doing a shitty job at fucking her.” he pulls at your shirt, “Isn’t this his? She doesn’t smell like an Alpha at all,” he chuckles, “And didn’t you say that he ignored her today? I don’t think he’ll care if we get his sloppy seconds.”

“Let me go!” you pull your arm from his grip and face the taller man. “Niragi is not here to kick your asses, but I am.”

“Oh look at this, the little Omega has claws!”

“So do I.”

You freeze. So do Haru and his friends.

You smell him before you see him. Peppermint and rain.

You turn around to see him a few meters behind you, standing casually with his hands in his pockets. He looks bored; like he’s just passing by and there’s an inconvenience on his path. But his eyes…

“Chishiya-”

“You aren’t very smart, are you?” he interrupts, walking slowly towards you. “Harassing an Omega when there’s an Alpha around. It’s not acceptable back in the real world, what makes you think it’s acceptable here?” his eyes flash with something you recognize. You also notice the golden ring on them, giving them a more animal look. “Now you can either let her go or-.”

Haru releases his grip on your arm and takes a step back before Chishiya can finish his sentence.  

“We didn’t do anything to her, man,” he says, hands raised. The man trembles slightly, eyes cast on the ground. “We were just messing around, that’s all.”

Chishiya chuckles and nods, “Of course, of course. Just remember what can happen if you mess with her again.” one of his hands leaves his pocket to scratch his neck, almost mindlessly. You gasp when you see the claws, the changed hand. “I would hate to get blood on my white hoodie.”

The men scatter back into their room without another word, tails between their legs. You stand there looking at him, involved in his scent. After more than a week without an Alpha, having him so close is not doing you any favors. His presence is unmistakably wolf, his scent stronger by his show of dominance. He barely had to try; Betas just instinctively know not to mess with Alphas. You start feeling hot, and you curse yourself; please not now.

“Are you okay?” his voice gets your attention.

“Uh-hm, yeah I am,” you stutter a little, “Th-thanks for the help.”

He takes a few steps closer to you, his eyes never leaving yours. You feel hypnotized; like you’re under a spell. He smells so good, and you’re so horny, and he’s the only thing making you feel safe now. You think of Niragi for a moment, until your wolf pushes the memory aside with a huff; Niragi is not there, you’re still unclaimed, and there’s an Alpha right in front of you.

You jump into his arms before you’re able to overthink things even more. His arms envelop you as your lips touch, and you feel that amazing electrifying sensation every time you touch an Alpha. His lips are soft on yours as he kisses you. His hands are surprisingly warm against your skin.

“Alpha- ” you moan into the kiss.

“Bedroom,” is all he says as he pulls you with him to your room. His lips are still on yours as he closes the door with a kick before making you lay down on the bed. His body covers yours in an instant, his hands roaming your body while his lips suck the skin of your neck. Even his kisses make you feel pleasure, and you whine as his hands go under your shirt to fondle your breasts. “Your skin is so soft,” he whispers with a pinch to your nipple. “I have been wanting to touch you since I first laid my eyes on you.”

“I- I want more,” your pussy clenches around nothing as you feel him hard against your stomach, “Please, Alpha...more,” you don’t care about how you sound. You just want that sweet release only an Alpha can provide. Niragi’s face shows up in your mind’s eye, but you ignore it; he wasn’t there for you when you needed it. Chishiya was.

His hands move to untie your shorts, sliding them down your legs to uncover your wet cunt. He sits back on his heels, hand on your thigh as he stares right at your naked core. He’s more expressive now than you’ve ever seen him before; his eyes burn with lust, his bottom lip between his teeth. You whine as he stays still, pushing your hips up; you want him to fuck you, not to stare at you.

He chuckles and licks his lips. “Open your legs wider for me,” you immediately do as he says, craving his touch. His hand slides lower until his fingers are tracing your slit in up and down movements, making you moan and instinctively close your legs. “Open,” he says with a glance at your face before leaning over your center. His breath is warm against your swollen clit.

You shiver as he flicks his tongue over your sensitive bud; it feels so good, and you want more. Your hands grip your pillow as you moan in time with his licks, almost letting out a scream when he sucks on your clit. No man had ever touched you like that; they were all inside you and over after a few minutes of thrusting. Even Niragi had gone straight to business. But fuck, does it feel good.

“Chi- Chishiya, oh my god- “ you manage to say before you’re interrupted by two of his fingers entering you. They curl inside you as his tongue keeps working wonders on your clit. You can feel an orgasm growing, toes curling at the pulling sensation in your core. You’re so close. “Please keep going, don’t stop.” you practically beg as he finger fucks you.

He stops.

You open your eyes with a displeased grunt to catch him looking at you, lips glistening with your juices. He smirks, “We’re just getting started,” he says, pulling you by the legs so your center is pressing against his crotch. You moan again at feeling him hard against you with only his swim shorts in the way.

You sit up to undress him off his hoodie, something he lets you do as he devours your lips. He suddenly pulls you up against him until you’re practically sitting on his lap. You grind against him, trying to put out the fire inside you. His mouth kisses down your neck to your breasts, without fully undressing you. You try to take off the shirt, but he makes you pause.

“That’s his shirt, isn’t it?” you nod and he huffs out a laugh, unbuttoning the first buttons only, “Keep it on,” he says before closing his lips around a nipple. You close your eyes and just enjoy the sensations he provides you. Your mind goes back to Niragi; how his tongue piercing felt against you as he sucked on you too, or how his hands never stopped pleasuring you. You almost grunt in frustration at the memories; he doesn’t matter now.

“Alpha, I want you inside me,” you beg as you keep grinding on him. It’s starting to feel like torture. Your hands slide down to work on his shorts, “Please...please.”

“Easy there,” he chuckles, pushing you back down on the bed. “We have time. Be a good girl and stay still,” he says as he gets rid of his shorts in a swift movement, now completely naked in front of you. You glance at his cock, hard as wood in between his pale thighs, a bead of precum sliding from the tip. Your mouth waters; you desperately want him to fuck you, you think as your pussy clenches around nothing.

You open your mouth to say something but hesitate, trying to follow his command. You wonder how can an Alpha have so much self-control; he should be deep inside you by now. It’s beyond frustrating. He finally covers your body with his, and you smile at the sensation of his skin on yours; it feels so good. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer as you kiss him with ferocity. It hurts how much you need him.

You finally feel his tip at your entrance, and then he’s inside you with a sharp thrust of his hips against yours. You scream at the sensation; so warm, so full, so unbelievably pleasurable. His thrusts are slow but firm, each hit of his pelvis against your clit making you see stars. His face goes to the side of your neck, and you feel as his teeth graze the skin, sucking and biting; right over the fading marks Niragi left on you a week ago.

“Go faster,” you whine as you push your hips up against his. You want him to fill you up to the brim; like Niragi had done. “Please Alpha, fill me up. Make me yours.”

He doesn’t say anything, but his pace gets faster, and you finally hear him make a sound since he started fucking you. His face is still hidden in the curve of your neck, but his hands clasp around your thighs, pulling them up until you’re practically folded in half. You finally feel him deeper, hitting your g-spot as his shoves get gradually harder.

“Tell me how much you want me to knot in you,” he grunts against your ear. “Tell me you want me.”

“I- I want you,” you whine. “I want you to knot in me, and fill me up with your cum. I want you.”

He kisses your jaw, thrusts getting even faster. You can barely think; all you want is to come and for Chishiya to do the same inside you. You want to feel him as he shudders, hear him as he moans and you milk him dry. His hand goes to cradle your cheek, and you finally see his face as he locks eyes with you; his white hair sticks to his neck and forehead due to sweat, and his eyes are more gold than the usual dark brown. However, an uncomfortable realization sparks in you; there’s only lust in his eyes. No care, no adoration, no imitation of something resembling love. Nothing like Niragi’s eyes had looked at you. Your wolf pushes those thoughts aside once again, and you close your eyes as you focus on the man currently thrusting in and out of you. He’s what matters now.

Your orgasm hits you like a wave, toes curling behind his back as you clench around him in pleasure. You feel him as he comes too, hands squeezing your thighs with enough force to leave a bruise. However, you gasp when you feel him pull out with a hiss, and he finishes spilling on your belly and breasts.

You lay there as he finishes with a grunt before laying down beside you, both of you panting furiously. The fog in your brain soon evaporates, and you have to control the impulse to run out of your own bedroom. Why do you keep doing this to yourself? First Niragi, now Chishiya. All those years of self-control wasted. They meant nothing. You were just pushing back the inevitable; the day you would be claimed with no real ability to even choose by who. Your wolf doesn’t care, but you do. The last thing you want is a relationship like the one your parents had.

But you still ended up fucking two different Alphas in a week; it’s not like you have a choice.

Chishiya moving beside you pulls you out of your thoughts. He’s looking at you with his usual expression; cold and with a pull at his lips that gives the impression there’s something that only he’s smart enough to understand. It annoys you just a little. You guess it shows on your face because he’s full-on smirking as he sits up.

“Feeling regretful, are we?” he says as he retrieves his shorts, putting them on, “I figured you would.”

“Then why didn’t you stop me?” you say in a low tone, sitting up with a moan. His come sticks to your thighs and runs down the skin of your breasts and belly. You sigh when you notice it stained Niragi’s shirt too.

“Why would I?” he shrugs, putting his hoodie on, “I can’t control this thing much more than you do. Besides- ” he says, shooting a glance at your torso, “Thought it might be fun.”

You furrow your brows at him. “This isn’t about me, is it?” you ask. Things kind of start to make sense now; his constant presence near you, the shirt he wanted you to keep, “This is about Niragi.”

His eyes lit up with something like amusement. “If I get to claim an Omega while pissing off Niragi then I’m doing something right.” he starts walking towards the door, “Don’t misunderstand though; I will fight to claim you when the time comes.” He closes the door behind him.

What have you done? You feel a sudden urge to cry, but push it back; you are done crying about this. So you just let a few tears fall before standing up and heading to the bathroom, wanting to get cleaned up as soon as you possibly can. You groan when you see yourself in the mirror, covered in love bites and cum.

You wonder how Niragi will react when he finds out; because he inevitably will. It wasn’t unheard of Alphas to fight to the death over an Omega; you just wish that isn’t what is about to happen. You don’t think you can live with that.

You step in the shower for the second time that night and vigorously rub your skin, trying to erase any and every sign of Chishiya off your body. Mission impossible, of course; his scent is still all over you as you get out of the shower. Next, you try to clean Niragi’s shirt. At least that one still smells faintly of cinnamon and wood.

As you should too, remarks the voice in your head.

You barely sleep that night.

You feel like a zombie the next morning and, as per usual, you stick to your room. You’re particularly into avoiding people today. Well, two people. So you keep to your room and jump between reading, to napping, to overthinking until you get a headache and then fall asleep.

A sudden knock on your door wakes you up, and you notice it’s almost night outside. You trip on your way to the door, opening it to reveal Chishiya on the other side. You scowl and move to close the door in his face, but his foot stops you.

“What?” you ask.

“We’re in the same group tonight,” he says, raising a piece of paper. “And before you say no, remember that you’re still under evaluation.”

“I have enough visa days,” you say, forcing the door on his foot. He doesn’t budge. You sigh and count to ten. You can do this; just another game. “Fine. But tell Ann that after this I’m only going out when I need to.”

You grab your jacket and get out, following Chishiya. You don’t say a word and neither does he. Your body feels his presence though, and you’re sure he can smell it in you. Smell himself in you.

You get in a van with your group, a bunch of people you faintly recognize but know no names. Chishiya seats right at the front, and you cringe as everyone else in the vehicle clearly knows everything that happened between you two. You hear Niragi’s name being whispered around, but try to ignore it, focusing on the road outside as you drive around looking for a game.

“Look there!” someone exclaims.

Koishikawa Botanical Garden.

The whole place is completely dark as you walk through the main gate, the familiar sound of the barrier closing behind you making you tremble with apprehension. A sign at the front says no weapons allowed, and you watch as two of the people in your group leave their weapons behind. Not really a good sign.

A single street lamp casts light on a table right next to the reception. You follow your group as they approach the table, but your attention is focused on your surroundings. You remember being there as a kid; hard to imagine that the beautiful open space full of trees and flowers of every species is now a game arena; a place of death. You wonder what exactly is the game that awaits you.

You focus your attention on the table, retrieving a phone and staring as it does the facial recognition thing it always does. It’s apparently a big game; there are already more than ten people waiting to play, and at least fifteen phones are still on the table.

You sit on a park bench while you wait, bracing yourself against the chilly night air. Chishiya is leaning against a street lamp right in front of you, and you know he’s staring, even though it’s dark and he has his hoodie up and covering his eyes. Your mind keeps rewinding the last twenty-four hours and you try to focus on something else with no success. If you’re not thinking about that, you’re thinking about the imminent game; both make you want to cry and run.

People slowly keep coming in, and you notice as the phones vanish one by one that the game is almost at its full capacity.

A sudden ruckus at the gates snaps everyone’s attention to the entrance, and you swear your heart stops as you see Niragi running in your direction with the most terrifying expression you’ve ever seen on him. He looks furious. Absolutely terrifying.

“I’m gonna rip your fucking heart out!” he screams as he gets closer. You notice his eyes are locked on Chishiya. His eyes; they aren’t human. Neither are his hands, now curved into claws. The other man doesn’t seem scared in the slightest; on the contrary, he looks like he’s having fun.

“Niragi, don’t- “ you scream as he lunges himself at the shorter man. Chishiya is fast though, swiftly dodging the punch before kicking Niragi in the stomach and stepping away.

Niragi huffs and doubles over before standing straight with a growl and trying another swing at the other man. Two men that got in with him try to corner Chishiya, but he just dodges them like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

“Not so bad without your gun, are you?” asks Chishiya in a mocking tone.

“With or without a gun, I’m still going to fucking kill you.” Niragi growls, “You fucked with the wrong wolf.”

Chishiya huffs a laugh, “Actually,” he says with a smirk, nodding in your direction, “I fucked the right wolf.”

Niragi’s eyes finally lock on you, and it’s like he’s seeing you for the first time. Only now his eyes are filled with something that resembles betrayal and pain. You hate it. You look down, trying to make yourself small; you don’t want him to look at you like that. Never.

“I’ll deal with her later,” he says in a cold tone, and you can’t help but flinch. He approaches the table and retrieves the last phone, eyes still on you. “Now I- “

You’re startled when cheery music starts playing all around you and the big screen you hadn’t noticed at the roof of the reception lits up.

“Registration has closed,” says a feminine robot voice, “The game will now commence.”

You look at your phone as it lits up.

Difficulty, Ten of Spades.

Game, “Akazukin: Red Riding Hood.”

Next Chapter

[puckrph]

STARTERS TAKEN FROM POEMS I’VE WRITTEN - PART TWO

feel free to change pronouns!

' i think the whole world is within you. ' ' trauma is insidious. it sticks like a shadow, like mortar; the only thing holding our disparate shards together in the shape of a person. ' ' what are we, if not the echoes of insults and disappointments, the ghosts of the people our parents used to be? ' ' what are we if not the space in the skyline where something used to stand? the afterimage of a flashbulb lit in the quiet moment before roaring tragedy? ' ' i watch you standing in the sunlight laughing, harsh and beautiful, something more than our parents or this nation could ever hope or deserve to behold. ' ' you're the one lucky creature in this world of ashes. ' ' i feel myself decaying with every wasted minute. ' ' i think if you took my chest and split me open, you'd find soft black rot where my ambition used to be. ' ' if i cannot be happy, let me be free. if i cannot be free, let me be mad. ' ' i think of nothing but poems, and all the poems come from you. ' ' i'd ask to run away with you, but i never learned how to drive. ' ' i'd apologize for staring at you, but you captivate me as the night sky. ' ' when i was a child, i'd tilt my head back far enough that the only thing i could see was that stretching firmament, thinking: i might fall into those galaxies. ' ' you are allowed to be angry at those who hurt you—you are allowed to feel rage over what was done to you—you are allowed— ' ‘ we burn, and our blaze tears away the veil of ignorance. ’ ‘ faith lies as charred or as changed as the city skyline. ’ ‘ we break out of rubble, claw our way to sunlight, wipe the dust from each other’s faces with hands sick of fighting and digging. ’ ‘ we will tear down their walls and build our homes atop the wreckage. ’ ' i marvel at how you might lament a life like this. ' ' you may whisper to yourself: do i dare disturb the universe? and i will twine my hand in yours and say: you have—you do— ' ' you are a fool, perhaps. but so are all—men, women, everyone. ' ‘ we measure our pride with watch-chains; measure our hearts with half-torn dancing-slippers worn on walks over rough streets, places they were never made to tread; measure ourselves with love-poems. ’ ‘ you are the might-have-been story of a boy grown into a man grown into the best mind of his generation. ’ ‘ you are the best mind of your generation which, coming upon the overwhelming question, turns it over like a diamond and, finding it unanswerable, sets it in a ring upon my finger. ’ ‘ perhaps it was not worth it, after all. or perhaps it is no great matter. ’ ‘ if i put my foot to the floor or take the turn just right, the horizon will swallow this ought-to-be-ghost town. ’ ‘ he prayed at the altar of machinery until the factory god gasped its dying breath. ’ ‘ i stand in the light of uncountable divinities and by them chart my westward course. ’ ‘ i was always more than the sacrificial lamb of the american dream. ’ ‘ in my memories you are gold-filigreed. ’ ‘ you became god when you breathed your first tale. ’ ‘ some things are best learned from the passenger’s seat. ’ ‘ amid the ache of beauty, and amid my wonder-love, i forgot i am a sinner. ’ ‘ i forgot that we ought to be bound for ruin, i forgot every cruel thing the world has ever flung our way, because the dawn made you holy in your sleep. ’ ‘ when i am bound for eternity, will you mourn for me? ’ ‘ i was only worth loving in your darkest hour, is that it? ’ ‘ i am a siren call, not sustenance: there is no meat left in me to feast on. ’ ‘ somewhere in me there is a living girl/boy/person, locked in the casket of my heart for safekeeping, buried beneath the silt of our solitude. it has been piled on for so long that i cannot find her/him/them when i try. i cannot even remember laying her/him/them to rest. ’ ‘ you told me you loved me and looked at me like i was holy. ’ ‘ you should have known i loved you when i asked you to take a road trip with me. ’ ‘ i love you, and because i love you i will put aside my relentless terror. ’ ‘ if i am your moon, do not take the sky from me. if i am your heart, do not take the cavity in which i beat ceaselessly, deaf and blind to all but you. ’ ‘ do not tear me from your chest while you still live in mine, so close that your breath is my breath and your words are my words. ’ ‘ who am i that you should love me? ’ ‘ i did not know with what words i spoke, what language, what voice; i knew only that i loved you, as soft and ever-present as breathing. ’ ‘ if you opened your mouth, the true name of god would spill from your lips. ’

[fanfictionwritingoddity]

𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙋𝙡𝙖𝙮𝙗𝙤𝙮’𝙨 𝙆𝙧𝙮𝙥𝙩𝙤𝙣𝙞𝙩𝙚: 𝙋𝙖𝙧𝙩 𝙏𝙝𝙧𝙚𝙚

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.6𝙠 𝐭𝐰: 𝙮𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙚, 𝙟𝙚𝙖𝙡𝙤𝙪𝙨𝙮, 𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙘𝙧𝙚𝙚𝙥𝙞𝙣𝙚𝙨𝙨, 𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙤𝙙 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙞𝙣𝙟𝙪𝙧𝙮, 𝙞𝙢𝙥𝙡𝙞𝙚𝙙 𝙢𝙪𝙧𝙙𝙚𝙧, ����𝙬𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙡𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐠: 𝙬𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙙𝙞𝙙 𝙞𝙩 𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙜𝙤 𝙬𝙧𝙤𝙣𝙜 - 𝙝𝙪𝙙𝙨𝙤𝙣 𝙩𝙖𝙮𝙡𝙤𝙧 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟏 | 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐 | 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟑 | 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟒

( 𝚈𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚎!𝙾𝚒𝚔𝚊𝚠𝚊 𝚃𝚘𝚘𝚛𝚞 𝚡 𝙵𝚎𝚖!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 )

A loud cheer left your lips as Seijoh secured yet another point. The game had progressed into the third set, and the score was now 15-24, your hometeam only one point away from victory. Kaori trembled in excitement next to you, her cheeks pinking under the heat of the gym lights. She had caught Oikawa’s eyes more than once as they drifted up to your seats, and just that fact alone was enough to set her face aflame. Had she finally gotten the captain to notice her?

No, the only person Tooru could ever see was you.

You hadn’t noticed the setter’s longing stares, more focused on the player with a big number 2 on his back. He smirked at his fellow blocker once the ball smacked against the opposite end of the court, silently celebrating his success. A smile creeped across your lips as you watched the display, heart thumping unsteadily in your chest. Matsukawa’s brown eyes flitted to your face for a moment, drinking in your beam before grinning back.

The interaction was brief, but Oikawa didn’t miss anything. He almost wished he didn’t see the way your expression brightened for the few seconds you basked in Issei’s attention, or the unsteady hand you clenched against your chest when he looked away. Tooru was unable to keep his left eye from twitching slightly as a wave of irritation slammed into him like a tsunami. So that was who you liked, huh?

What did Matsukawa Issei have that he didn’t?

Oikawa was extremely aggressive for the last point, serving so hard that a player on the opposing team got hit and ended up with a bloody nose. Everyone just figured he was excited to win and the adrenaline of the finishing play had gotten to him. Well, they weren’t entirely wrong. He was excited to win. But, the player he had ‘accidentally’ hit looked strangely similar to Matsukawa.

There was nothing wrong with some harmless target practice, right?

Once the game was over, you couldn’t stop yourself from rushing down from the stands over to the Seijoh team. Kaori was close behind you, clutching a clean towel that she planned to give to Oikawa. You barely awarded said man a glance as you dashed right by him, already on your way to Matsukawa’s side.

The hand Tooru had lifted to cheekily wave in greeting hung awkwardly at his side for a good three seconds after you passed. He couldn’t suppress the jealousy bubbling in his stomach. It felt acidic, burning and dangerous. However, the player was forced to quickly swallow the venom crawling up his throat as he noticed Kaori nervously shuffling up to him.

“You did great out there,” you exclaimed, handing your best friend his water bottle. He gave you his signature droopy-eyed smile as he took the drink from your hand. Oikawa’s hands were trembling as he gripped the towel your friend had given him, finding the sickeningly sweet smile she wore nothing short of disgusting.

Eventually, after about three insufferable minutes of listening to you chat it up with the lazy bastard you had set your sights on, Tooru couldn’t handle it anymore. He whipped around, setting his sights on your back, which was facing him. Matsukawa quirked an eyebrow at his captain's rigid stance but ignored it, continuing his conversation with you. Without a moment of hesitation, the setter crept up behind you, wrapping his long arms around your waist and setting his chin on your shoulder, dangerously close to your ear.

“I didn’t know you knew Matsukawa, cutie!”

His voice was sultry, and his breath sent shivers down your spine because of his close proximity. Oikawa ignored the flutter in his stomach, opting to let out a sad hum and pout. You sighed, shimmying out of the boy’s hold, before turning to him.

“He’s my best friend.”

There was a warning in your eyes, because you knew he was aware of how you felt about Issei. Tooru feigned ignorance, innocently tilting his head in wonder. Matsukawa rolled his eyes and sighed, bending down and beginning to pack his volleyball bag that was sitting on the bench.

“Don’t be weird, Oikawa.”

Suddenly, he stopped, straightening his posture as he turned to look at you guiltily.

“Ah, Y/N, I’m not going to be able to walk you home today… I have to walk someone else.”

It was difficult to hide the way your heart broke as Issei muttered his excuse, but somehow you managed. After all, you had seen him date other people before. This would be no different. Pulling a weak smile onto your lips, you silently handed him his towel while nodding.

“Perfect! I’ll take her home then.”

Oikawa’s quip had been unexpected, and left your jaw to drop slightly in shock. Oh, hell no. You desperately pulled out your phone, hoping to feign getting a text from your parents. Before you could turn it on, a hand covered the screen, keeping you from clicking anything. Fear gripped your heart as you slowly dragged your gaze up, meeting the playboy’s face. You then noticed the knowing grin that was playing on his lips.

There would be no way out of this one.

You quickly learned that slowing your pace in hopes of being able to lag behind slightly and defeat the notion that you two were really walking home together didn’t work, as Tooru would just wait for you to be by his side before beginning his walk again. The silence was deafening, and unfortunately it gave you time to mull over the entire reason you were walking with the team captain in the first place - Matsukawa had been busy with someone else.

You had no right to be jealous. You and him weren’t even dating, for god's sake! Unfortunately, that didn’t stop said emotion from plaguing your mind, mixing with the poignant sorrow that already sat there. It was a wonder that you weren’t used to this, you had been in love with Issei for two years and he had never shown any romantic interest in you. For so long, you stood idly by while he weeded through girlfriends and crushes, unable to ever confess your own feelings. 

Silently clutching your bag a bit tighter, you willed your eyes to stay glued on the pavement in front of you. Your slight tenses didn’t go unnoticed by Oikawa, who’s chocolate brown orbs flickered to you the moment you moved. He was quiet for a second, drinking in your conflicted expression and stance, before dragging his gaze away.

“Does he know how you feel?”

You weren’t able to verbally answer, choosing to just shake your head instead.

“Thought so,” he muttered, a wry smile playing on his lips. 

The absence of conversation was slightly more comfortable after that, but you didn’t know how much longer you could hold back your tears. It just hurt so, so much. Without even a glance in your direction, Oikawa placed his hand gently upon your head, his lithe fingers slightly carding your locks aside to find a comfortable resting place. This action froze you in your spot, which it seemed he predicted, considering he stopped at the exact same time. When you turned your face to him, intending to question his strange behavior, his hand slipped to your cheek, thumb caressing under your eye with unrivaled gentleness.

“Don’t cry over someone like him. He doesn’t deserve it.”

There was a certain softness in Tooru’s eyes, the brown seeming more like the color of oak bark when bright leaf filtered sunlight hits it just right. But deep down in his gaze, somewhere hidden below, was a darkness, something terrifying and dangerous. Against every cell in your body, your cheeks heavily heated at the affectionate action.

After a few moments of trying to catch your breath, you realized your surroundings looked eerily familiar. Once you spared more than a glance at them, it hit you - you were outside of your house. How did you get here so quickly? And how did Oikawa know where you lived? He never once asked for directions. Before you could ask any questions, he removed his hand, giving you a gentle nudge towards your front door.

You offered a small smile, turning on your heel and walking up the path to the entrance. Maybe he wasn’t as bad as you thought he was.

You never did look back to see if he had left.

No, he didn’t leave. Tooru stayed outside your home for almost an hour after you had gone inside, simply watching lights flicker on and off as you made your way through the house. It gave him an odd sense of peace, slowing his heart down to the pace it would take when one was meditating. But any time he thought of the boy who had hurt you, it spiked so violently he had to catch his breath.

How dare he. Not that Matsukawa was worth your time anyways. He didn’t deserve a single sliver of your existence, he didn’t even deserve to breathe your air. No, and he wouldn’t any longer. You were an angel among men, a diamond in the rough, and any other person was lucky to be in your presence.

You needed to be protected.

Everyone else would only hurt you, they would only taint you and use you like Matsukawa did. Well, lucky for you, Oikawa was more than glad to fill the role of the princess’s knight. He would burn the world down if it meant you would be his.

Flicking out his phone, the captain typed a few things before holding it up to his ear.

“Hey, Matsukawa, can I come over? I have some homework questions.”

𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵 :  @kray-dragon , @lagoonsmainacc , @steampunkhell

[supernovafeather]

Sacred Union (18+)

Apocalypse x Goddess!Reader

Warnings : smut, rough sex, unprotected sex, breeding kink, nudity, vaginal sex, mention of public sex, established relationship, inappropriate use of your powers but heh please you know you'd use them like this too.

Surprise is not a part of his life. He has seen everything, has created everything, has felt everything. Even his own sacred body is just a container made of flesh and blood, his mind and soul can survive without it. Him, En Sabah Nur, first Mutant of this world, lived through everything.

But this face ? This face engraved on stone so familiar to his eyes ?

A lump forms in his throat as he rubs delicately the edges of the sandstone grave covered in the desert dust. It is an humble block of stone standing there, at the heart of a small mausoleum lost in the wide Egyptian desert. Forgotten by everyone. Humans have been ignoring you for so many centuries. Or even millennia ? Alone and buried in this remote place.

Being a god doesn't stop this sour taste at the back of his tongue, his blue fingers now tracing patterns seemingly random on your tombstone. But soon they remove the thin blanket of pale and freezing sand, unveiling quietly your features delicately. There is no gold. No paint. No significant symbols. You could be anyone, but not to his eyes.

His forefinger rests on the edge, fascinated by the details. Your grave is made of one rough-cut stone, yet your anonymous followers made sure of saving your face. It is... like a mask. Every eyelashes, your nose, even a few strands of hair on your forehead before getting swallowed by this simple rock... such delicacy and dedication to give the perfect result. A shaky sigh leaves his lips once he dares to look at yours, his eyes narrowing as he represses his anger. Your closed lips are as beautiful as in his memory. Sadly icy when his fingers graze them slowly. He misses their warmth.

"Humans never understand anything, don't they ?" He mumbles as he caresses your soft cheeks. "They can't be trusted. Weak. Unable to see the precious things of this world. They prefer gathering diamonds and gold rather than acknowledging the true treasures. And they buried you there after I disappeared. I hope your servants... yes of course they were there. Who else would be able to keep your beauty intact like this other than by using their powers ? Was it Ahmasis or Akhtai ?"

Your voice can't reach his ears. Not for now as a grin now dresses his lips. How clever you are. Of course humans had nothing to do with your burial. And this wasn't a proper burial. Your Mutant followers obeyed and...

Despite his excitement, he manages to keep his calm, power flooding every nerves and veins of his body as he lifts his palms towards the Egyptian sky hidden above the ceiling. How naïve he was to think, him, Apocalypse, that you died by mortal hands. As if they had the power to jail Death herself in her own kingdom.

Slowly, tiny cracks appear on the surface of your face, or rather on the mask. His own heart is pounding hard as he watches the area around your nose succumbing to his power. Yes but not only. To your movements as well. This thin material cracks like an eggshell as the body underneath it gets more and more active. Adrenaline now flows as he witnesses fingers moving on the sides, where there was nothing at all earlier. Suddenly your left arm leaves the surface, sand and this strange membrane running down your greenish skin like a dune getting dug by one of the many snakes. The rest of your silhouette appears as En Sabah Nur keeps helping you in your awakening, your own dark force finally leaving the Dead Ones. Soon your face leaves this funeral egg, then your other arm, and he stops the curse when one of your legs and a part of your belly are now back on Earth.

"My beloved," he whispers as he comes closer carefully, respect holding him back as your naked green body keeps raising. "Welcome back to this world. I have been waiting for you since my return."

He stares at your still closed eyes, then at some parts of the membrane reluctant to leave your skin. Your hair is glistening with the strange substance, some black veins visible on your temples. Such a state means that you can't wake up fully. For once, you need help.

Placing his left palm on your belly, he gives you enough energy to get rid off the remaining membrane that soon disappears in the fake grave, leaving you laying in this hollow place of your precise shape. The black veins are not anymore, and his hand runs up to your clavicle and throat, feeling your heart pounding calmly.

"Voyeur" you say in a low voice with your eyes still closed. "How many centuries have passed to have the all-mighty Apocalypse trying to touch a corpse in such a way ?"

"Can Death herself be a corpse though ?" He asks with a grin before running his hand on your now dry hair. "However I have to admit that your tomb... was convincing."

Such an answer makes your eyes open suddenly, your entirely black pupils and irises getting an amused glare from him despite your resentment.

"How dare you believe that Death can have an end ? En Sabah Nur, you are much more clever than any mortal, than any Mutant. Please, do not make me regret my Sleep."

"My child, I know nothing could possibly make you regret it. You like to fight our opponents all too much."

This time you don't answer, your mind too focused on your connection to the afterlife to notice the god undressing. He is used to see your attention leaving this world for the other one. Soon, naked, he can lift you up. Your green body doesn't respond at all, still as a feather getting carried away by the desert wind. Your coldness makes him shiver as your limbs finally reacts barely, embracing his body. By checking your face he can tell you are still somewhere else, and a forced grin appears on his lips.

"Are dead mortals more interesting than me, my beloved ?" He asks in a cold voice as your eyes dark like ink keep staring at the void.

"They are not and never will. But they manage to plunge everything into chaos when I turn my attention away from them."

"Shall we teach them a lesson ? Like during our farewell ?"

Back on Earth, you grin at his hidden impatience, not even surprised by your presence in his arms. You felt his warmth even so far away from him. What is meant in those cheeky questions ? Breeding. You are so connected to the afterlife that all the souls collected throughout History can feel when intense emotions shake your cursed soul. They heard it in their weakened soul, or rather, they guessed it. Death promised a child to Apocalypse himself. Death wants a child with Apocalypse, and Apocalypse wants a child with Death herself.

Which deity can born from this union ? Good or Evil ? After all, you are Death, but Life as well. You are a balance between these two elements. They can't exist without the other one. And En Sabah Nur needs you. Oh he needs you so much and it makes you grin against his neck as he thrusts inside you so brutally. You recognise his protectiveness as he grabs the back of your head with his hand, his other arm snaking around your waist to keep you as still as possible as you sit on the edge of your own grave. Which terrifying being will walk on this world or on the next one, cursing or blessing the sand, grass, ice, rocks and water under their feet ?

Passion guides your motions as your arms surround his neck, your tongue battling with his. He is just as good as in your memory.

"Give me a child." You think as you lock your eyes with his, still feeling his cock ribbing your insides. "Give it to us, breed me till the end of the day, till the end of this world."

En Sabah Nur kisses you deeply as your thoughts get blurred, the other world shaking in horror as your body clenches around your beloved, welcoming his seed eagerly. Your satisfied grin doesn't even falter as the disturbed souls pray. But praying in the afterlife ? Useless. Their world and families will get destroyed soon. They know it.

"They are horrified." You coo against his lips before pecking his amused grin. "They don't want it to happen."

"I have to admit that... they are influencing me."

Your surprised face only makes him thrust brutally once inside you, a delighted and clear scream leaving your throat as his seed runs down your thighs and the grave sandstone. He is still hard in you, his hungry kisses on your throat making you open your mouth as a shaky breath is the only answer available for your mind.

"Oh yes they influence me... they make me want to breed you till the end of the world as you said. Let's make them tremble in horror and let's them welcome their descendants crossing the limits between these two worlds. Use your power my beloved."

This last sentence makes you laugh but another deep thrust strangles you quickly, followed by other ones. You know which one he is talking about. Extended stamina. The one making you last for two days of intense debauchery for your farewell. The kind of debauchery even shocking your own servants having to witness everything. They saw the power you have on En Sabah Nur and which one he has on you. How you unite to reach your goals. Your Sleep made any pregnancy impossible but this time... oh this time everything is possible. Especially when, like now, he is in the mood to let you ride him for several hours.

- - - - -

Thanks for reading, please comment and reblog if you liked it ! 😊

[yanderenightmare]

YANDERE ! CHISAKI KAI

goodiebag WARNINGS: dubcon/noncon, yandere, abuse, anxiety, eugenics, kidnapping, abduction, manipulation, stalking

BREAKING VASES

“How are you feeling?”

His voice was a blur of sound she fought no battles to make out. Annoying in some sense, antagonizing the base of her skull, poking and prodding at the back of her mind. Yet she managed to piece together what he’d asked after deciding it’d be unwise to leave his query unanswered.

Having broken through the thick haze she’d momentarily been lost in, she didn’t quite know what to make of his words. It was an impossible question. It was an impossible question due to the fact that it had infinite answers. There seemed to be no end to what she was feeling. Robbed, estranged, vulnerable. She was given a robe, but it acted as a weak replacement to the smoke-ridden garments she wore before. Those scented with herbs, dirt, sweat and blood and culture. Those with holes and rips painting a story of the past few years of her life. Granted, they’d probably pose as nothing more but mere rags to anyone else, but to her they posed as something, out of a select few things, that truly belonged to her. Her armor. The piercings that once acted as her weapons, her axes and spears and swords and arrows, were gone too, stolen away, leaving phantom remnants to fill what empty punctures should have been left, however who had miraculously grown shut as though never even there to begin with. Sentiments of those occasions where she’d gifted herself with the cheap jewels; memories she cherished beyond whatever more money could buy her. The feathers and string woven into her hair, her shield, had also been taken, untangled from her locks, letting the dull tresses fall unenthusiastically down around her shoulders. Her scars as well, the blooming bruises on her knuckles and knees and elbows; gone, and the stories of her victories gone with them. Gone, not healed; removed from existence. She even missed the grime that used to coat her skin, the smudged mascara she never bothered to wash away, the soil beneath her fingernails and stuffed between the ridges in her skin. They were as much part of her as the blood simmering through her veins.

She knew she was exaggerating, thinking of her bath in antibacterial as an acidic Armageddon. She’d merely been washed, but it felt as though her spirit and soul had gone down the drain as well. Her body scrubbed to the point where she could have sworn her skin had been torn away, leaving nothing but blood and bones in their wake. She felt raw. She felt lonely. No, worse. She felt left. Reborn but dead in the same moment, yet she was still alive and the fact felt forever unavoidable by the presence of the man sitting before her. The man who looked like some heathenistic God she might have worshipped once if it were not for his demeanor telling tales of what felt like the onset of destruction. The man who demanded to know, what now felt like ages ago, how she was feeling.

He felt he was being generous with his patience, but that generosity would soon shift if she were to keep on being unresponsive to him. Granted, it was a simple question, a question with a mere two answer option. But she seemed to be weighing the world in her pensiveness. She’d answer for her disobedience sooner rather than later, nothing good ever came from delaying the inevitable. But for now, he would kindly gift her with more of his patience, even though it was running thinner by each second spent of his eyes taking in her presence. Her spotless and cultivated purity. He’d shined away for hours on what would seem like coal to the naked eye, revealing what he knew to be a diamond in the rough once he finished. Chipping away at the edges to create the perfect symmetrical shape he knew she could inhabit.

Her shivering didn’t go unnoticed by him nor did the way she averted her eyes from his peering gaze. She had her knees tucked up under her chin, her position placed picture-perfectly in the middle of the bed; her whole being speaking volumes of how alienated she felt being surrounded by the ocean of silk and cotton and pillows as large as herself. Newly washed hair splaying in thick meanders down her shoulders, legs and spine. Not wet enough to be dripping but enough to damp her clothing. A few dry locks irritatingly dancing across her face, making her nose impulsively scrunch up every now and again.

She was cute, he’d give her that. But being cute wasn’t enough to quench his temper. In fact, it merely aided in his frustrating. Spit rising, pooling under his tongue which writhed and lurched at the sweetness of it. Mere seconds away from starting to drool, similar to how a hound would react upon eyeing a slab of meat, and despite him not wanting to act like a wild beast he found more and more just how hard it was going to be to resist the brute force he was in capacity to use.

He'd at some point removed the bejeweled plague-mask, as she saw it now repositioned on a counter-top. Not daring to face the male, letting his frame remain a blur in her peripheral vision. “Naked.” Her voice was tender… meek. It took him a while to understand that it had been her answer. It had come such a long time after he’d asked and the answer wasn’t exactly orthodox. However, as curious as it was, it was at least more candid than he would have hoped, which made him… not exactly satisfied, but… let’s say… less displeased.

Not sure what to make of it, he figured he’d more or less ignore her retort. Refraining from explaining why his remedies had to be done, as he’s sure it wouldn’t help ease any of the woes, worries and feelings of sentimental loss currently flagging behind her eyes. He was never prone to establishing such ridiculous attachments to anything himself, therefore having a hard time understanding her catatonic sorrow, but he could at the very least make an effort to understand their complications. Thinking perhaps replacements were in order. “Would you want more clothes?” He wasn’t dim. He knew that it wasn’t the same type of naked she meant, but more clothes in exchanged for the translucent kimono she was wearing couldn’t hurt. Perhaps she’d even realize that it all was for the better. She couldn’t possibly prefer the filth she wore before above what precious materials he’d bestow upon her now that she belonged to him.

He was wrong, evidently. “I’d like my clothes, please.” There was a hint, a weak hint, of scorn in the request, but it was rather drowned out in timid timber of her soft voice. He enjoyed the caution she spoke with, as though she’d already assessed the situation and come to terms with her new role. Yet, the shy inkling of ire still caused the hairs on his arms to rise in frustration. Not so much because of her meek defiance, but more so due to the fact that the request was based in such silly audacity. The reason as to why she would ever want those cheap rags back was beyond him, and would hopefully soon be beyond her as well.

His brows flatlined to a nonchalant expression as opposed to the low furrow they’d been held before. “I burnt them.” It was still spoken through grit teeth, unable to hide his annoyance completely. She noticed, scurrying her heels closer to herself, trying to better hold onto her frame, not wanting to slip outside the self-made confinement. Her knuckles turning ashen with how hard she was hugging her body. Trying to better balance her fear in hopes of not causing enough uproar as to make the male sitting a mere meter away suddenly pounce like any other predator might. The feeling of her heart in her throat was choking, making her swallow thickly even though her mouth felt dry.

She flinched when he moved, squeezing her eyes tightly shut, trying to find comfort in the blinding dark behind her eyelids, however failing. The sharp padding of his leather shoes across the floor were intimidating enough on their own, enough to make the image of the golden snake-like slits he had for eyes rise up in front of her. His presence was closer when she dared peek a glance through her lashes. Tears glued them together and it was upon seeing it she understood she’d been crying without noticing, but come to think of it, she did feel the salt rivers sting on her freshly scrubbed cheeks.

He’d come back with garments in his hands. Lace she noted; white, expensive, luxurious, revealing lace. And a dress, just as clinically white, yet far from resembling any of the lechery as the lingerie. No, it was rather something she’d expect you’d dress a doll in. Thin shoulder-straps met with a sweetheart neckline which eventually strutted out into a short airy skirt. The fabric detailed in enhancement of the textile, bumps and ridges forming a vague pattern of roses across. In fact, it was so lavish and occasional that, if the skirt had been floor-length, she’d guessed it to be a wedding dress.

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d even worn a dress. She couldn’t even remember the last time she wore the color white. White, in its impracticality, stains too quickly, so granted if she ever even wore the color it wouldn’t remain that way for long. Nevertheless, she reached out. Dainty fingers, what should have been bruise-knuckled were it not for whatever procedure he’d put her through, stretched out in an ever so shy descent from its position atop her knees. But the movement was short-lived, killed with a gasp caught in her throat, for as soon as she brushed fingertips with the displayed fabrics was her wrist tightly snatched from its proceedings and brought forward in an action so rough it made her entire body tumble in the same direction. Promptly pressed firmly and snuggly into his chest as he made quick instalments to secure her new position in his lap. The roughness of his dress-buttons making abrasive contact through the silk of her robe, as the cool metal of his belt-buckle caused similar yet more intrusive discomfort to the place found in between her thighs.

“What do you want from me?” Was the only thing that made it past her quivering lips, granted it was the sole question that seemed to burn with a terror-fueled passion inside her.

“What good would come from stating the obvious?” He said as he cocked his chin to the side. Searing, golden eyes unmoved, or rather amused, by her prominent fear-stricken features. “All you need to know is that my name is Chisaki Kai, and how if you call me by anything but Kai, I will hurt you.” Her wrist felt cold in the pressure of his hold. Her other hand limply placed on his abs. “Do you understand?” Her chest seemed to tighten more and more with the knot tying itself in the pit of her gut, rendering her just barely able to even comprehend what he was saying. Unsatisfied with her blank expression, his eyes narrowed even further. “Let me make it a bit more clear.” His gloved hand rose from the position it had on her thigh and made contact with her face, pinching her chin in an effort to slant her head to the side. “You see that vase over there” He nodded in the direction he’d faced her in. The warm breath of his words tickling the shell of her ear as he spoke. “Watch closely.” She was too afraid to shut her terror-wide eyes, even with the sentiment he’d brought with his words, gently biting into her earlobe as he dropped her wrist. The hand repositioning, palm facing the vase he’d mentioned.

She wouldn’t have guessed it was a vase. Vases were for flowers, but this cauldron could roam at least three liters worth of water. She figured it must have been some ancient artifact, given its placement in the rich complex she found herself situated in. The texture decorating the shell of it resembling that of a toad’s back, bumpy and wriggly and swamp-colored. And it was because of the uneven appearance she didn’t quite catch the moment it all started moving. Ripples, waves, earthquakes seemed to run across the surface of it, before pieces started completely dislodging from the original assignment. Reanimating before his gloved fingers. The sight, acting as the onset of horror, had her guts in turmoil, her stomach folding in on itself, toppling in ways she hadn’t known were possible, as her tongue suddenly felt heavy and foreign in her mouth.

“Do you understand now?” His voice was soft; calculating, yet so very grave in its nature. Turning her head back to face him, fingers making a move to sharply cling to her cheeks yet again, keeping her chin in the palm of his hand. Wishing for a moment he’d removed his gloves, but the regret was too weak to battle the feeling of pleasure at the sight of seeing her lips puckered together between the force of his fingertips and the swimming look of hopelessness displayed so deliciously less than an inch from his face.

“Yes…” The word was only barely audible amidst her quivering, and the display, though brought him great pleasure, didn’t seem to satisfy him. Therefore, quickly adding his name to further her understanding of the rules she’d been giving. “Kai.” He felt his well-fitted pants tighten at that, his member growing hot and heavy, being sure she felt it too.

His hands sank from their endeavors of holding her face in place and of rearranging the vase, and, whence lowered, was placed back on her thighs, stroking a path upwards as to push the silk away from her skin, exposing the cooling soft skin. Soon pulling at the end of her belt, which easily fell away, opening the curtains so that he could peek more clearly at what was found inside. A chill wafted flush against her skin, goosebumps springing to the surface of her breasts; nipples perking as the soft material rubbed across them before being removed. His hand wandered further, inside the kimono to untangle the last tie found by her waists.

“Are you gonna kill me?” Her words lacked momentum, void of purpose, laced with defeat instead, as though she’d already answered the question herself. And if he at all heard what she’d said, he didn’t feel the need to show any indication of it. “Once you’re done with me?” She furthered the question, and at that the man seemed slightly shaken.

She had no doubt what she was there for. If his current actions weren’t any indication, the past hours certainly were. She’d been prepared for him. Groomed to fit his idea of perfection. It was all evident now. His eyes still trained over her body, never once showing any further acknowledgment for her words. “What makes you think I’ll ever be done with you?” It was as though he weren’t even speaking to her. It looked more as though he were speaking to himself, ignoring the growing terror he was increasing by the second. His hands exploring with his full attention at their disposal. Gloved fingers running over smooth skin, having the new foreign urge to remove the protective garments.

He moved slowly, controlled, yet she could see the fidgety urge he possessed to get the gloves off as quick and effortlessly as possible. Pulling each gloved finger halfway off. The act soon became a strange type of clumsy; childish, as if he couldn’t quite do it fast enough. However, despite his hurried movements, whence the gloves were fully removed he took the time to place them neatly beside him, as though they were of outmost importance, too good to be thrown on the floor in the fit of his impatience.

Momentarily mesmerized by the strange actions of the golden-eyed boy, she shook out of her stunned state. “Toys break… and broken toys are no longer fun to play with.” She didn’t know when she gained back her confidence, perhaps somewhere along perceiving him nearly trip at the mere strive to remove his gloves.

“That’s true.” He stated, naked fingers hesitantly making first contact with unresearched, untested skin. Yet, once his fingers only barely brushed past the thin peach-fuss found on her hips, unscathed in their venture, there seemed to be nothing keeping him at bay. “Only… you’re not a toy.” It was hard to believe the sentiment when he was poking and prodding and playing with her flesh as though she were some type of doll. Still and withal, despite it being unwanted, the touch wasn’t unpleasant… at least not for now as he went on with the tender cautious ticklish strokes of a child. As if in reverence or savory or relief or all of them at once. Though, it would soon turn into possessiveness.

His hands were soft, to her great surprise. Just as soft as the silk she wore before. His nails were long, sharp, groomed, manicured. The talons sinking into her skin more so than his fingertips, in an amateurish fashion, giving off the impression he hadn’t ever done such a thing before or that it had been a very long while since he had. He seemed confident despite it, or… any grain of angst was thoroughly outmaneuvered by his curiosity.

“What am I then?” She feared the answer as she eyed the growing lust in his starry irises, as his pupils seemed somehow a darker color than black beside the godly glow of gold.

He had half the mind to repeat the answer she’d first given him, given that it was now true in all its information, but decided against it. It would be wrong of him to mock her when he was the one nearly drooling at the sight of her in such a state. He took a breath, surprised to find it uneven. “Perfection.” It was only barely above a whisper. Frightening adoration and unwanted worship over-seasoned the one word.

Her brows furrowed at the endearment, it feeling so foreign an adjective to describe her of all people. Confusion wafting over her, nearly replacing the fear. “I think you’ve kidnapped the wrong person.” She didn’t exactly think he’d stop, yet the light-hearted smirk that soon quirked at the corner of his lips still came as a surprise, it serving as a convinced resolution, disagreeing with her foolish accusation. She guessed it was the certainty that surprised, or scared, her more than anything. The way he acted as though nothing was out of place, as though she was exactly where she belonged, just another relic, quite like that vase, he’d get to manipulate to his will without her having any more courage than ability to stop him. “I’ll disappoint you.” She said, more as a warning than a fact. He eyed her as though she were some sort of angel on earth, still with his entitled godlike gaze, yet she knew she was no less human than faults themselves. She was far from perfection, far from wanting to be either.

She sucked in a breath, her hands crinkling into the bedsheets as a thumb rubbed across the nib of her breast. “Impossible.” He spoke with resolution now, yet again eliminating her doubts with more grave timber added to his already gravelly tone. “Besides…” It was the first time in a while where he re-gifted her with his gaze. Sharp, golden eyes fixated onto her teary orbs. “I fix things just as easy as I break them.” She was reminded of the vase and how it so eerily represented her situation. Images of it being her demise spilling, flooding her mind, causing her brows to rumple. It was no question to it being a threat and if she’d been standing she was sure her knees would have given out under her. Especially as his chin prodded forward and hers was once again caught firmly between his fingers. The action stopped in its tracks upon her pouring words.

“I don’t understand, this makes no sense, you’re…” She shook her head as she spoke, words tumbling from her lips like speedy rain, as though she were shaking them from the confines of her mind, however pausing in her process, biting her lip as if what she was about to say were too insensitive, as though genuinely not wanting to hurt the feelings of the brute man before her. “Not to sound superficial, but…” She bowed her head in apology for her next words. “You’re…” She looked around, at the expense surrounding her. “Rich.” Her eyes found his again, as though searching for something her words had aggravated, but found nothing but attentive eyes staring back at her. “And you’ve pretty lashes.” She added, more on a spur than anything. Shaken out of her puzzlement for a brief second before finding her way back to it. “I don’t... I don’t understand… why go through all this trouble?” Her body shifted as she spoke, and the movements did not go unaccounted for by Chisaki. However, the current bewilderment strewn on the girl’s face called for more entertainment. “You can have as many girls as you wish, willing girls who’d love a rich guy like you-” She was stopped, her sentence caught in the air, unable to finish.

“It has nothing to do with quantity.” She had to think for a second to remember the meaning of the word, finding she felt uncertain by what she decided upon. ”But everything to do with quality.” That word she knew well enough, yet it left her even more puzzled than the confusion his previous statement gifted her with.

“If it’s the acid bath you’re talking about…” She queried cautiously. “You’d be surprised how much people will put up with for cash.” He wouldn’t, he knew very well of people’s adamant desperation. How often it made him sick.

His head tilted, giving her words more time than they needed to breathe. Yet, time he needed to evaluate and admire the freckle adorning her neck. “You possess something other people lack by lacking something everyone has.” His hands felt heavy on her thighs as she was once again left puzzled beyond comprehension, leaving room for the pressure in his grip to come to mind as she rummaged her brain for the meaning of his riddling words.

“A quirk?” She said it with too much enthusiasm, caught in her split-second satisfaction for cracking the mystery, before reeling herself back into reality. “You want me ‘cause I’m weak?” Her nose scrunched at the thought, gut winding like livid snakes. “That’s sick.” She hiccupped in her oncoming cry, feeling the desperate hopelessness of her situation hanging around her, the air itself becoming suffocating to take into her lungs.

His hands made a sharp stir at her words, nails briefly poking into her skin at how twisted her reality was. “I desire you because you’re pure.” He didn’t let his guilt shine through in his tone, making it sound ridiculing instead, as though she were stupid to question his intensions, despite her suspicion being nothing but unfounded and sound. “Quirks are a disease not a blessing, you’re spared from its corruption.” He spoke so matter-of-factly, lecturing her as though she were clouded by some ignorance he saw past. It was the tone more than the words that had an effect on her. The lump in her chest, resembling that of shame, rose in her throat. Though, she weren’t stupid; the undeserving condescension vanished once awareness of his manipulation came as a realization in her head. Clarity of the situation soon finding its footing in her mind, no longer feeling insecure in the clouds of his judgement.

She decided to play his game. Having a strong feeling that no amount of questions or arguments would have her leaving her current imprisonment in the house, let alone her position on his lap. “I have conditions.” She quipped quickly, trying to sound assertive in her command, however it playing off as what it actually was, which was insecurity.

A curious glint flashed in his golden orbs as well as a humored tug at the corner of his lips. “You have conditions?” He had half the mind to inform her she was in no such position to demand anything, but he figured there’d be no harm in hearing her out. “Amuse me.” A brief and terribly low chuckle erupted from somewhere deep in his throat, a noise similar to what she’d imagine an old heavy door creaking would sound like.

“I want a garden.” She said first and foremost and what would soon be revealed as last.

Although he didn’t enjoy the messy past-time of hers, some part of him had understood it was something more than that in his time stalking her. How he’d seen her treat her plants as though they were something precious above being mere dirt. “Already provided.”

“Really?” She looked astonished, happy even. “Well, uhm…” She skimmed her brain for more commands, more because of a yearning to exercise the power to command than actually having anything further to request.

“You have nothing else to ask for, do you?” He gave a knowing look. A look of content endearment. “Such a humble creature you are.” The smile, though rather flat, still exuded an inane amount of awe, so much so it made her feel even more exposed than what she already was.

“Don’t call me creature.” She said, more as an attempt to wipe whatever frenzied state he’d escaped to than from actual discomfort by the word itself.

Her attempt didn’t seem to do the trick. “Hmm, anything else?” He started leaning toward her again. Her lips trembling from his exhales. “No?” It would be wrong to say she had no more desires, however those which she had seemed out of reach or strangely punishable if mentioned. “Well, if there’s anything you might feel the need for, do not hesitate to ask.” She most certainly would hesitate before asking for anything from the man, however… she figured it was more or less a purposeful joke than a genuine sentiment.

He hesitated once again as he did when he first touched her, lips only barely brushing over each-other, hovering in the presence of one another’s breath, before primly pressed together. It felt like fire against her freshly scrubbed raw and swollen lips, but she made no effort to stop him as he pressed on. Teeth seemed like fangs as they tugged at the sensitive chunk of flesh, grinding it between them, his tongue soon accompanying her own inside the comfort of her mouth.

It was strange; foreign. She’d kissed, been kissed and shared kisses before, yet the sensation was always adorned with the scent of smoke in the air and on her breath, and the taste of bitter beer swirling and pooling on her tongues. But this, this transaction of something that was purely them, left her feeling barren and at a complete loss for words. With nothing else to cling to sept for the taste of him on her and the even stranger feeling of him desperately trying to taste her.

She felt like a rag-doll, a toy more or less, as she made no effort to move; limp and only barely lively as he laid her beneath him on the bed. Lips caught in each-other’s embrace all the while. His hesitance diluted quickly, turning rougher and painful in a sense, as though he were in some sort of hurry, or as though he couldn’t quite satisfy whatever yearning had awoken in him as fast as it was building. His large hand wrapping around her throat, squeezing to paint a clearer point of who it was that were in charge. “Look at me.” The talons made their presence known, digging crescent moons into the delicate flesh of her spine. Growling accompanying the act, beckoning whimpers from the small thing beneath him. His other hand helping him hunch over her, acting as a pillar for his weight to rest upon. One of his knees soon diving between her legs, prompting her thigh on top of his, preforming the same maneuvers with the parallel leg. Having her knees spread to either side of his hips, nuzzling between them. Her windpipe seemed to bend more than break beneath his viscous hold, yet the sensation felt no less painful.

As lips continued to clash and teeth started to do more than just graze, small hands made to push at his tough chest. Not in an effort to shove him away but to subdue whatever frenzy had taken ahold of him, as a weak attempt to get her discomfort across. He didn’t seem to notice how he’d started biting, or of her rather obvious distress, and if he did it would seem he’d elected to ignore it all, as his weight remained unmoved by her desperate actions.

He didn’t know what he was fussing about before. She clearly respected his authority. How could he ever think that a creature like her, quirkless and infinitely vulnerable, would ever have the heart to disobey him? The mere thought of it was laughable now, as she made such feeble attempts to simply soothe him and not at all in an effort to make him stop. Too kind in her nature to ever want to deliberately upset him. It would be cruel of him to not answer to her prayers of making the ordeal more comfortable, especially when she was being so sweet in her request, in her begging. She should be rewarded, not ignored, he resonated, deciding to go slower, softer.

His hand moved from cramping around her neck to cupping the side of her cheek instead, fingers spreading to either side of her ear. The hand keeping him in a menacing stance, towering over her petite frame, bent at the elbow, lowering him down to rest more intimately against her chest. Feeling her hands move instinctively away from his chest to grasp his shoulders instead, an inkling to perhaps tangle them behind his neck burning in her thoughts, but she was left at a loss for how far she was willing to sell her freewill, but also because she had no way of knowing if such an action would please him. The doubt was soon answered as he assisted in placing her hands above her head, one large hand securing her wrists in a firm yet strangely delicate lock.

Newly free of anything to do, his other hand repositioned to grasp her breast. Lips soon joining as he slobbered a wet path down to her exposed nipples. She fought the urge to scurry away, knowing there was nowhere to go and how nothing good would come out of it, or if it would at all change the events of what was currently in motion. She wasn’t sure just how far his temper reached, but she wasn’t at all that inclined to find out. Besides, he’d already installed the measures to keep her from doing anything of the same caliber of foolish, her position unmovable beneath the inescapable presence of him.

He was broad. Not thick, but thick with muscle to a sense where her legs where thoroughly spread by the mere diameter of his torso. Her knees tightly hugging him because of it, unable to spread even further without it becoming an uncomfortable stretch.

She felt strange. So unavoidably naked. She’d done it before, shamelessly more times than she could count, proudly shared her body with past lovers and friends, yet this seemed a strange type of surrender more than an understanding. Perhaps because she was fully naked whereas he still wore his black suit-pants and matching black dress-shirt with the contrasting white tie. Or, perhaps being naked had nothing to do with it, and the explanation laid solely in the fact that he had taken her from her home without hindrance from both herself and the law it would seem, bathed her and groomed her and dressed her and taken claim of her as some type of belonging all without her being able to object. She was powerless. He was living proof of her hopelessness, helplessness, weakness. Weak and fragile and infinitely exposed beneath him. Inferior, but… it would seem… desirable to some unfounded extent as his golden attention locked on her where nothing else seemed to be worth any significance.

His lips again finding their way up to her throat, his gelled hair tickling her chin and cheek before his breath splayed across the tender skin of her ear. “I undressed you…” He whispered matter-of-factly in the seductive tone, lips brushing against her earlobe at the sentiment. “Time to return the favor.” He shuffled back and made to kneel between her legs, helping her prop herself up with both hands at her waist, pulling her so close she was made to sit on his lap again with her legs cradling him behind his back. His hands serving as the only leverage in keeping her position upright and from falling back onto the bed.

It was selfish and greedy of him to want to test her obedience, especially when she was shaking so violently like a leaf caught in a hurricane. Her head bowed, afraid to meet his height, yet her eyes still peered back up at him through the thick veil of lashes.

She felt his hands tighten around her waist, fingers and talons digging into soft plump flesh as large, glossy eyes stared at him for far too long without her acting on his command. For it was a command. “Need I remind you of what happens when you disobey me?” The belt-buckle seemed a frozen or electric type of cold against her clit as the threat boiled in the back of her mind. She shook her head, or… that was the intention, yet her whole body seemed to quake with the movement.

Hesitant hands and fingers that seemed far too frail for this world reached out to undo his tie. Once he reassured himself she knew what she was doing he tilted his head to lean in for another kiss. He was sure she didn’t do it on purpose, yet he needed to inform her of her mistakes as she seemed to use his tie as some sort of rope that would keep her from falling as she leaned backwards away from his antagonizing lips. His hands once again digging calloused fingertips into the doughy flesh of her waistline.

As though shocked from her transgression she did the opposite action of averting his kiss and came back to meet him. Sniffling as she loosened the tie, reciprocating the unwanted kiss. The realization of how hopeless her predicament coming down on her, as well as the impending events of violation and perhaps unwanted stimulation wracking through her with a vengeance. She couldn’t help but start crying, only this time she noticed the tears as they streamed hot and heavy like silent waterfalls down her face and neck, dripping from her chin onto her chest and falling down further in soundless rivulets, streaking her skin with reddened irritation. He must have tasted it on her lips, for soon his kisses turned sloppier, as though elevated and somehow frenzied by the display of her struggle. His tongue, flat and all-capturing, soon licking up her cheek to better taste her tears, making her cry with increasing fervor. Clutching onto his tie in false comfort as though it were some lifeline. “Put it on.” He demanded as she lifted it above and off his head, hesitating for a second, scanning his eyes for humor but finding nothing sept for lustful impatience. She complied and the once false lifeline turned into a very real noose. She whimpered as one of his hands left her waits to grab onto the tail of the tie, pulling her closer to his face in a choke-hold. “Come on.” He growled against her lips, referring to the still movement of her hands, the hands that were supposed to be halfway done with the unbuttoning of his shirt.

She hurriedly undid the buttons, nimble fingers working precisely despite it. And, although he was under no illusion her hurry was a product of his threat, he could fantasize the rush was of the same desperation he felt festering inside him. However, it was hard to imagine when she finished unbuttoning the shirt, her hands hovering above his pants, left yet again at a loss for what to do.

With his patience running thin, he let his temper get the best of him. The last hand leaving her waist to grab her face with a growl. However, upon seeing the tearful, terrified look displayed swimmingly in her orbs, his snarling features softened. He could pretend she didn’t know how to unbuckle his belt. He could pretend it were some inconceivable contraption you needed to be familiar with beforehand to ever hope understanding. He was good at pretending.

She yelped as he dropped her back onto the mattress, his weight quickly followed suit as he kissed a trail down the valley of her breasts, before rising back up and admiring the sight of her in his tie and the blooming love-bites that had formed from his teeth’s last encounter with her skin. He decided, in his constant growing impatience, to go back on his command, granting her one mercy by removing his belt on his own.

Not wanting to see or find out if she’d disobey more of his clear commands, he placed one careful yet firm hand around her throat, strong fingers pressing into the sides of her throat as so to keep her in her place. Feeling her precious little heartbeats drumming against his palm. Eyes locked with each other. Fearful, tearful, spiraling eyes seemed to take up half her face as she searched his business like, monotonous features in a desperate scramble for hope or escape. Blotchy, red, screaming skin surrounded those gorgeous round eyes of hers. Tear-slicked lashes seemed thicker, hugging each other close for comfort. Nose a blossom shade of pink, nostrils flaring in the meekest of flutters each time she sniffled. She didn’t mean to whimper as Chisaki stroked his middle finger over her neck. She was reminded yet again of the vase from earlier. The vase that was meters away, yet broke apart easily despite the distance and how she was infinitely closer to his destructive hands. How expensive that vase must have been and how priceless in the sense of carrying no expense she was. The possibility of him breaking apart her anatomy similar to the vase was uncertain, on purpose or even by accident.

He made no further moves, just feeling up her pulse beneath his fingertips and watching her eyes go rounder and wider with fear of what he might do. She had completely lost her composure now, and he knew the sight should have awoken some form of regret inside him, some form remorse or guilt, yet the only thing he seemed to think was about how pitifully beautiful she looked in her helplessness beneath him, how undeniable his ownership now was, and how victorious he felt.

To her it felt as though he were oblivious to her discomfort, as though he didn’t even register the tears streaming down her face or the ever-present tremble in her body. How her stomach toppled in on itself, how she was afraid to even as much as move her hands from their places on either side of her head, how she felt as though the sheets swallowed her whole and how the whole atmosphere seemed too strange, too foreign. How the smell of bleach in the air had all five of her senses in utter turmoil, how the cleanliness of everything made her skin crawl, how the silk tie around her neck was both the softest and roughest form of embrace she’d ever felt. How the love-bites on her body represented bullet-wounds, how he’d poked holes through her skin into her very core, how she felt as though the remnants of her soul seeped out through them, spilling onto the fresh bedsheets. How his eyes oddly looked like the eyes of God despite her not believing in such things, how even in her fear she found herself wondering why his lashes were so long and why his skin looked like porcelain and why on earth would a divine creature like him ever show such a devoting interest in the likes of her.

The sharp clashes of an unbuckling belt weren’t enough to shake her from her rambling thoughts, nor was the unbuttoning of his pants or the sound of the textile being thrown on the floor. Fingers however, fingers easily brought her out of her own mind. Fingertips grazing tender, unprotected, wet skin. Slender-veined, long, striking fingers that reached farther inside her to that spot she couldn’t ever hope reach on her own. Fingers that easily entered through the slick of building wetness, pooling with the rush of blood that had celebrated by the countless accidental, conditional and intentional feather-touches she’d received throughout the events of her time in his presence. It felt good. Undeniably so, in spite of her fear, maybe even in product of her fear. Two digits buried knuckle-deep inside her, slithering, bathing, curling, stretching, molding her walls to their liking.

With his face inches away from her, with the fingers of his hand dancing curious choreography inside her and his thumb drawing careful patterns onto her clit, she couldn’t help put moan past the hand tightening around her throat. His hot breath fanning over her face she felt him grow restless at the lewd sounds she made. There was a still present stretch in the outer ring of muscle despite her growing wetness, but her insides fluttered, happily and welcomingly sucking on the guests taking up space within her. Her knees pressing harder into his sides in an impulsive desperate attempt to rub her thighs together, hanging onto every precise move his fingers made, wanting more, needing more.

“Look at me.” Eyes wrenched shut at the unwanted yet much enjoyable pleasure, peeled open at the threat of his words and the tightening enclosure of pressure her vocal cords sustained beneath the grip of his hand.

She had at a point tangled her hands around his neck, despite her dilemma with the movement earlier. Teeth adamantly biting down into her bottom lip as she proceeded in getting lost in his eyes and at the pooling sensation of his fingers pumping in and out of her. Un-allowed to look any other place but his eyes, un-allowed to move when his digits disappeared and the soft velvety tip of his cock nuzzled at her entrance, feeling warm and much bigger than the expanse of his fingers.

He made a sound. A low, guttural moan which reverberated through his chest and erupted somewhere deep within his throat; hungry in its conviction and greedy in its quest, making the girl beneath him whimper as his swollen cockhead kissed past the lips of her pussy, beginning to push through into her plushy walls. His hand soon finding its way to cover her mouth, muffling each pathetic little whimper that came with his throbbing cock tearing through her constricting walls with its monstrous girth frustratingly slowly, the small sounds vibrating, tickling him in the palm of his hand. The frustrating slow move letting her feel every ridge, every vein, every prodding rift on his bulging cockhead.

Nails belonging to small hands dig into the back of his neck as he thrusts the remaining length of his cock inside her, his pillow-like tip bumping into her cervix, bottoming out in one quick movement of his hips furiously slamming up against the underside of her thighs. She gasped at the intrusion, her velvety walls fluttering around the size of his, moaning whence he pulled out ever so slowly. He groaned blissfully, lolling softly into her. Her eyes once again closing, falling into the back of her skull, but that couldn’t be allowed. “Look at me while I make you mine.” It was hard to bring herself back, it was hard to even open her eyes and even harder to focus on keeping eye-contact as he continuously buried himself inside her. However, the throaty growls and moans and croaks, that somehow deafened the wet creamy squelching of his shaft driving into her sopping folds, served as enough a wordless threat to keep her attention tethered to him.

The pace was slow, agonizingly so, but he drove deep. And as the speed picked up, she couldn’t help that her needy walls began clamping around the girth of his length, sucking his cock right back inside her warmth each time he reared his hips back, as if he belonged there. Her struggle was unnecessary as he eagerly slammed his pelvis back into her, creating an ear deafening smack with each bone-shattering thrust. Her back arching into him as her warm walls seized up around his cock rapidly pumping in and out of her, feeling the early building fluttering of her orgasm closing in, chasing her in her bliss. His hand still tightly enclosed around her neck, the space dividing their faces nearly nonexistent as his hot breath fell upon her face each time he grunted and groaned with the thrusts of his hips.

She moaned his name, trying to find the words to warn him of her upcoming release, but between his thrusts she had had to prioritize breathing above anything else and as the feelings inside her spurred violently she was rendered unable to even as much as think about anything but the bliss. Her legs cramped around his torso, bringing him close and holding him there as her body convulsed in earth-shattering spasms. Moans slipping past the fingers on her throat, forgetting they were there for a moment. All movements stilled before she opened her eyes to find those weighty eyes staring back at her, feeling an inclination to apologize but having the words choke in her throat by both his hand and once again picked up speed, as he slammed into her with a newfound vigor. Her orgasm still ricocheting, pulsating, crippling her body in warm heat and fuzzy shocks, the tingling contrasting with his sharp and angled thrusts into her swollen walls, riding her through the feeling. Her crying had partially subsided, however started returning. His pounding so crucial and stinging she sobbed at the brutality of it, her throat feeling sore beneath his fingers.

He bit into her neck, stuffing her again and again with his cock, heavy balls hitting against her ass in wet slaps. He drove harder, making her hiccup and scream at the force of his shaft tearing a hole through her abdomen. She begged him to stop, but he was chasing his own form of release. Her hands slamming and pushing at his shoulder, but he was neatly and snuggly slotted against her, in no hopes of moving without wanting to himself. His hand descended to gripping the underside of her knees, spreading her further out for him to rut into. Face buried in her chest as he selfishly groaned and moaned and grunted like some animal, ignoring her spluttering cries. His noises grew louder, uncontrolled, building to one final croak, feeling his cock spur in warm twitches, ropes of white thickness sprouting from his pulsating tip into her, creaming up her walls and dripping out of her crammed hole.

He sighed contently, continuing to slot his cock inside her warmth however slowly, feeling his cum run down the length of his and she felt it smear her thighs in stickiness. Her hands shook, clinging to him for comfort from the relenting attacks, her entire body aching. He pulled out all the way only to fill her up again, his cock keeping its size and length without faltering in the slightest, she was afraid he wasn’t done, but he seemed content relaxing into her chest, eyes closed and resting. He lied there for a bit, cock going limp inside the comfort of her warm walls, before he rolled off. A large hand still left on her stomach.

Part of her told her to simply fall asleep. Her aching body begging to find rest in the soft sheets, yet the almost wild need to get as far away from the man at her side outgrew her need for comfort, as it usually did. She stirred from her position, slipping out from under his hand, yet the movement was quickly silenced with the hand coming to snatch her wrists instead. “Where do you think you’re going?” His voice was calculated despite groggy and tired, annoyed in some sense yet desperate in another. She opened her mouth to speak but the words fell stillborn on her tongue. “You’re not going anywhere.” He pulled her towards him again and she was sure he wanted to go another round, but found that instead of lining her up with his cock another time, she was instead firmly placed against his chest. One arm coming to wrap around her, whilst the other made to grab the duvet from its place at their feet, draping the both of them in sterile white cloth. “If you move during the night, expect to wake up to a punishment.” He added softly in her ear. His fingers delicately dancing across her cheek to brush a tress of hair behind her ear. His lidded eyes intently locked; admiring, the curves and slopes of her face, even as the red and teary confusion started back at him. He was glad to see no hints of hatred or scorn laced with her gaze, or perhaps he was just too tired to notice. Though, she did as commanded. Keeping her frame neatly placed where he’d positioned her. Her eyes scanning the man’s features until sleep as well soon brought her to her knees. And she would like to dispel the notion, but the truth wasn’t easily buried. Despite the burning swollen soreness found between her legs, the soft comfort of clean pillows and covers and sheets had her body relax more so than she knew she should. The smell of bleach accompanied by lavender and lilac soon aiding her in her relaxation as well. And when all was said and done, the warmth of Chisaki’s body was a strange type of welcoming consolation despite it also being the reason to her aches.

[littlefreya]

The Way to Hell - Part 6

*No permission is given for reposting my work, copying it or parts of the source material and claiming it as your own*

Summary: Post Mi6 - August manages to escape with his face intact and just won himself the title of being the most dangerous man on earth. With every agent in the world on the hunt for him, life became a living hell, but that’s okay because hell is where he reigns.

Too bad for the woman who’ll stand in his way.

Chapters: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10| Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 |

Pairing: August Walker x OFC (Ingvild) | August Walker x ofc Suzy

Word count: 5K

Warnings: Dark themes, rough oral sex, gagging, hinted anal, mentions of rough sex, and August twisted thoughts.  

A/N: The adventures of August and Ingvild continue 💖 thanks again for reading and giving me your feedback, it keeps me fueled so keep it up :D! Of course thanks @agniavateira​ for editing my work and being my muse.

Title: Stargazer

The love boat sets sail through the icy water of the North Sea. The apostle, Knight_of_Cockn3ss, or whatever that kid’s name is, wasn’t joking when he mentioned a romantic cruise.

The traitorous sun hangs mid-sky as August trails across the deck. A beige fedora covers his dark curls and a matching cream-coloured suit over his sturdy body. In his right hand rests his laptop, he is not daring to leave it out of sight even for a minute. His eyes observe the surroundings; he must be the only single person on this trip, surrounded by timid couples on the verge of divorce and sugar daddies with their sugar babies.

‘At least the young girls are pretty.’ August greets a tall blonde, holding one hand behind his back and giving her a small bow before continuing on his way.

He’ll have to endure this trip for a couple more days, which isn’t ideal by any means, but he can’t risk getting caught or killed. Airports all over the world are swarming with security guards, agents, and assassins on really fucking high alert by now, all of them waiting for him.

The irony of the situation is that a long time ago used to be one of them. A wanted target on a scale of world catastrophe would spin a web of agents worldwide and Agent Walker would always get there first. That’s why they called him “The Hammer” - he nailed each target on the head, among other things.

No one cared about torture and extreme violence. He once brought back a target in such a dire condition that Erica was forced to send him to psych evaluation. He bluntly told the psychiatrist he enjoys the violence for no particular reason why, and then fucked her over the desk.

He scoffs at the memory, breaking into a wolfish grin.

Standing on the rail, his gaze is glued to the blue horizon, following the trail of sea-foam left by the boat as it slices through the water, disturbing the peaceful life beneath the sea. Slowly, his chaotic mind begins to drift, reveries of the CIA reminding him of her.

Golden locks of hair glow like hot sand on a summer day. Sweetly, she jokes about buying a yacht, telling Erica to fuck off so they can leave everything behind, and sail into freedom.

Memories are perfidious. Why has she been on his mind so much as of late? She’s been dead for years, flesh eaten by worms and the insects.

She is no more but a sack of rotting bones.

To condemn her memory is more than she deserves.

August’s nostrils flare. For whatever reason, his mind wanders to the girl who lived. Gently snorting, he shakes his head, remembering the condition of how he left ‘poor little’ Ingvild; half-naked, wrists tied up to the bed, probably crying to whatever father figure she has.

After what he did to her, she’ll probably retire from Icarus.

“I’m coming after you,” he mimics her voice in his head, and laughs while making his way toward the stack of beach lounge chairs. The section is nearly empty as most of the lovebirds are dinning in the main hall and unlike the degenerated visitors of this cruise, he is here solely on business.

Much work is left to be done. “Knight” has promised to meet him in London’s sky tower, suggesting he may or may not have a source of plutonium. Whether he’s a broker, a source, or a possible troll matters very little to a man on the run. Desperate times are ahead; he may be sticking his neck out, might be stepping into an obvious trap, but choice is scarce at the moment.

‘This is not the type of anarchy I dreamed of.’

That little girl, Ingvild, was the first to come. There will be others, endless more until the world will fall apart.  

“I’ll keep coming after you.” Her voice hinges on his troubled mind.

He opens his laptop with a groan, trying to ignore the truth that lies on his mind like a pile of heavy brick.

‘You should have left her pretty face to die in the bottom of the lake.’

“Oh, but to miss out on all the fun that followed in that bedroom?” he speaks to himself quietly, unlocking his laptop with a retinal scan.

Luckily, his old drive is still accessible on the cloud he encrypted. Years of work and dirt collected on the CIA and the government nestles on a single server. The ugly truth, the lies, the corruptness. Thick and black like a pit filled of tar.

Erica Sloane has her own dedicated special folder. Personal vendetta was never on his agenda, it was never about revenge, it was about a cause but sweet Erica deserves whatever damnation he could think of. He hopes that when he detonates his nuclear bombs, that once this world falls apart, she’ll sit on a front-row seat to see her failures raining down like fire from the sky.

A vicious smirk paints his face as his fingertips slide onto the touchpad. August scans through his many folders, seeking a specific one regarding illegal weapon deals. It would be a lovely afternoon at the CIA had one of these recordings or documents would find their way to the public eye.

August slides the cursor around, entering one of the CIA’s subfolders when his smile fades away.

He thought he deleted her folder a long time ago, but it seems like mistakenly, he placed it in another section instead.

And now here it is. A name he thought he’d never see again: Lacey.

Strange, he hardly remembers what she looked like. How long has it been? Six? Seven years ago? In his dreams, she’s nothing but a rotting corpse, but the mind has a tendency to alter one’s memory, doesn’t it?

Was she even sweet at all?

‘Manipulation was her strongest trait anyway.’

Without mustering a mother breath, he deletes the folder, and proceeds to search for the files he means to leak. He muses if they caught up with the notion that it was him who poisoned the well this entire time. Years of stirring chaos while sitting with his laptop of his bed while Sloane and her high-ranking management freaked out and did all that’s in their power to cover shit up.

It was so hard to keep a poker face and pretend he is trying to help. One particular time, he got so ecstatic he had to go and jack off in the men’s room.  

‘That was a good one.’

Something abruptly disturbs his attention, making his heart nearly drop.

‘It can’t be, is that...?’

A petite brunette passes through the lounge, joyfully trodding along the deck. Her hair is tucked back into a ponytail. No, it can’t be her, not in the situation he left her at. By what sort of dark magic would she exactly appear here out of nowhere?

‘I wouldn’t be surprised if the little Valkyrie turns out to be some sort of a witch.’

The brunette feels his gaze upon her figure and turns. He is met with a brown, warm gaze, rather than the sharp icy lustre that is Ingvild’s trademark. Less pretty as well, but looks about the same age, perhaps a year or two younger.

Another sugar baby, weary and discontent.

August realises he must have been staring with a dumbfounded look as she decides to smile back and make her way to him.

“Good afternoon,” she greets in a Midwestern accent. August’s eyes focus on her painted lips and in his mind, he imagines wiping that cotton candy pink lipstick by his thumb.

“Afternoon,” he smiles kindly, tipping his fedora with a welcoming bow.

Always the gentleman.

The young woman moves to sit on the seat in front of him, crossing her legs together as she takes in his sight. She observes and assesses how old he is and how much money he must own.

Probably looking for a new target.

‘Not old enough to be your daddy, but you can still call me that if it floats your boat.’

“Are you a secret agent?” She jokes, peering at his laptop before he smooths his hand on the lid to shuts it. He pretends to be intrigued by her senseless, obvious seduction when his mind once again forced him to go back and compare her to living-dead girl.

It seems like he can’t get away from her. Perhaps her threats were a curse? Even halfway across the sea, this total stranger reignites his curiosity.

‘Does Ingvild has any values? Any empathy toward others?’

She did experience fear in those little moments when his knife penetrated her soft little gut - that look in her eyes; like a virgin, fucked extremely rough for the very first time.

Thinking of those big, terrified eyes light up a snarl on his bewhiskered lip.

There was an inch of vulnerability in that sweet farewell kiss, a sense lost look on her face as if she couldn’t fit that emotion into any drawer inside her brain. It made her look so much more beautiful.

He wonders what she would have looked like if he went ahead with his besser urges and fucked her.

‘Maybe she’d finally break into tears. Fuck, I’d love to see her cry.’

“Sorry, I didn’t catch your name?” He interrupts the sassy brunette as she speaks of Lord-knows-what. It seems that she doesn’t even realise he wasn't listening to her for the last 5 minutes she been babbling . The girl smiles sweetly, tucking a brown lock of hair behind her ear. The diamond bracelet that decorated her wrist dangles as she does.

“Suzy.”

“Suzy,” August repeats and smiles charmingly before giving his lips a quick flick of a tongue. “Would you like to join me in my room?”

The brunette pretends to blush beneath the layers of foundation on her face and fakes an argument inside her mind as if she actually considers refusing his bold suggestion.

~*~

Back in his room, he pushes the petite brunette to her knees. He wipes away her makeup, smearing the pink paint with the crudeness of thumb. Suzy giggles, thinking she probably had men do worse than that by now.

‘Oh, darling, we haven’t even started yet.’

August’s large hand traces her rounded face, knuckles brushing against her cheek tenderly while running down to meet her lips again.

“Open up sweetheart,” he commands in a relaxed voice, his index finger demanding entrance to her velvety mouth. She spreads her lips open slowly, allowing him to slip in his long digit to explore the wet cavern while his thumb caresses her chin. Much to his delight, she sucks on his finger obediently, moaning as he slowly pumps in and out of her hot mouth.

“Good girl,” he praises, his free hand reaching to unbuckle his belt urgently and free his aching cock from his trousers. He tugs at himself for a second, staring how she suckles on his finger with fake devotion. She probably do want his cock, but it’s his money that she’d care for more later.

‘Oh, how disappointed you are going to be once I’m off this boat, baby.’

“How about I’ll fuck that pretty little throat, hmm?” August asks and without waiting for an answer, pulls his soaked finger away and clasps his hand around the hollows of her cheeks instead, forcing her to keep her mouth open.

She voices no protest, only her eyes staring at him wide and helpless. He pays no attention, preferring the sight of his cock sliding in between those puffy lips and pushing into the warm depths instead. A prolong groan slips out of his mouth, emphasising the relief of finally getting his dick wet.

Usually, he loves to watch, yet he lets his eyes roll back and shuts them tightly this time while she in the background. It only makes him fuck her throat more vigorously, his hands cradling and saddling her head, forcing her to meet the violent thrust of his hips.

“Don’t touch me,” he rasps breathlessly, as her her dirty paws snake for his waist. Terrified, she pulls away, intimidated by his voice. August’s eyes remain shut yet he can feel the wetness on her cheeks as his thumbs dig into them. Those tears are enough to send him over the edge, and he comes into her throat without any warning, grunting a couple of times and lingering inside her mouth to make sure she’ll swallow him clean.

‘That’s right little Valkyrie angel, you’ll take what I’ll give you.’

The mists of fantasy fade as August blinks his eyes open. Debunked by the plastic-type of woman. Slowly, he pulls his cock out, impressed by the mascara that’s smeared beneath Suzy’s now glassy red eyes. He wipes her lower lip clean and then gives her chin a gentle pinch with a soft grin.

Suzy gives out a weak smile in return, trying to look satisfied while remaining on her knees. He can tell that her little brain is pretty much half-through into realising she made a mistake by following the devil into his room.

Tall and menacing, he looks at her drenched by vile mischief. August moves to sit on the queen sized bed, petting the empty spot next to him. She follows, fighting her instinct to put a hand on his knee as she is used to, afraid that he will bark at her again.

“Tell me, Suzy,” he coaxes, reaching for the wallet in his pocket and drawing out a Trojan condom.

“Have you ever tried anal sex?”

****

“Ingvild,” the old man calls her name once he brings her to her new home. It’s a simple, minimalist apartment with naked walls and generic black IKEA furniture.

Silent, she peers at him, holding her small luggage between sinewy fingers. Everything that she possesses in the world is in that suitcase; a bunch of plaid skirts, white buttoned shirts, and a few books about fairies and monsters.

This man called Liam, is he to be her new father? He never even offered her a smile and hardly bothers looking into her eyes. Instead he grunts and sighs while making his way around the house and gesturing for her to follow.

At least he is kinder than Mother Superior. At least in here, no girl is going to pick any fights with her and get her into trouble.

“This is your room,” Liam gestures. The pubescent girl sneaks closer, peeking inside with curiosity. It’s not what someone would call a girl’s room by any means, very much like the rooms they had at the orphanage. It contains a single bed with a thin mattress and white metal bars and on the bed rest some casual clothes for her to wear.

At least she won’t have to wear skirts anymore.

As little Ingvild continues to scan the room, she picks on a small library housing some books and a learning desk with a computer. Probably for her to gain some knowledge of the world. She never had any of that at the orphanage, just the bible and the “forbidden” books of fairytales she stole from one of the nuns.

“Today you can rest,” Liam speaks, watching the little girl as she moves to place her luggage inside and sits on the bed.

“Tomorrow, you will start your first day of training.”

‘Training?’

Ingvild says nothing, only glares at him back quietly. It’s quite clear no woman is present in the house which makes her wonder; the orphanage doesn’t allow single parents to adopt, especially not men. Was Mother Superior this desperate to get rid of her that she decided to throw her at the first person who asked?

“Just so we’re clear, girl,” Liam grumbles, “I am not your father. You call me Liam and that’s that.”

She nods silently and watches him leave the room, shutting the door behind. Sighing, she falls back to the mattress, her silver eyes fixing at the ceiling in wonders of what sort of new life has she been sold ito.

“Ingvild...”

A low, velvety voice calls for her again, the mattress dipping, shifting with the weight of the one who joins her. As she turns her face aside, she is met with hungry eyes and a smile so cold it makes her heart shrivel.

August.

*~*

A loud thud wakes her with a sharp inhale. Though her face remain stoic, quickly readjusting to the sight of moving ground as the plane’s wheels make their landing. ‘Arrogant August Walker, invading my dreams’, she curses but pays no more thought to why he was there. Analysing dreams was never her thing. They were just memories of random things that happened to her in her childhood and August is no different as he had been on her mind for the last 72 hours.

He was a job.

One that she needed to get over with.

Liam was at her throat with this one specifically, nagging her like an old shrew. He wasn’t used for her taking her time with it, not his special girl.

Massaging her strained neck, she waits for the last person to leave the plane, observing the empty cabin and noticing how used it appears with all the crumpled, empty snack bags lying on the floor.

‘Ungrateful’, she thinks before exiting her seat and tip-toeing to get her luggage.

The arrivals terminal is infested with agents. Having been trained for years, she sees right through their casual attire, so fake they almost look like B-movie actors. It’s those badly selected outfits and their observant gazes - eyes obsessively fixed on every gate. Every airport in the world must be the same right now, desperate to catch this nightmare of a terrorist.

‘As if he would be stupid enough to travel by plane.’

With a high profile target like August on the loose, it almost feels like the world is on the brink of war.

‘Is that what he wants? To be an anarchistic god that plows chaos everywhere?’

Maybe that’s why he gave her back her life, to humiliate her, to show her how easily he can twist everyone’s life and disrupt the world people know.

‘Mephisto, Lucifer, Hades, Hel.’

“Remember that you’re only alive because I have allowed it.”

A sudden shard of pain sears through her torso, the wound reacting to the phantasm of his low timbre which plays in her mind. It makes her slow on her steps and chews on her inner cheek to suppress a moan that has been begging to escape her lips since yesterday afternoon.

“August Walker”, the name rolls on the tip of her tongue.

Her very first failure, the very first man who killed her.

It almost feels like a bond now, intimate and twisted. August went deeper than any other man ever did - he fucked her internal organs.

‘Is that is why you “performed” for him in the shower? Why you thought about him, slipping inside you with his cock rather than his knife?’

Ingvild huffs tenderly and passes in-between a couple reuniting with passion, her shoulder sharply bumping against the woman, who yells at her while she remains indifferent, never bothering to look back.

Putting on her shades, she continues to head for the exit. The wound in her gut throbs even further, all of a sudden and just when she is tempted to give into the pain and acknowledge it, the new mobile device in her jacket’s pocket begins to vibrate.

Liam, who else?

“Papa?” She answers, the big exit sign finally flickering in front of her eyes.

She can see Liam rolling his eyes without having to see his grumpy old face.

“What progress do you hope to make with this lead? Someone says they saw him in Singapore yesterday, you should be following these threads instead.”

Ingvild holds her breath, knowing very well the lead is false. August was with her a night ago, so close she tasted him, so near his fingers dug deep into her flesh, leaving an imprint on her bones and even though there is something quite demonic about him, she doubts he can be at two different places at once.

“I need access to his world, I need to pick up the clues,” she explains, yet the sad truth is that she has no idea what to look for. August is not a rookie idiot, he did a fine job leaving zero clues back at the bed&breakfast room they “shared”. Not even the receptionist who ogled her oddly when she left could tell her where he was heading.  

“Just get it done, Ingvild. You’re acting like a child, this isn’t like you,” Liam mutters before hanging up.

‘He is right, this isn’t like you.’

Ingvild feels hooks clutching her guts, not just the pain August inflicted upon her, but something deeper, something desperate, leaving a void in that same spot. The fact that he slipped between her fingers seems to torments, just as much as the fact that she lied to Liam for the first time. It makes her feel like a rebellious teenager. She never keeps secrets from him and there she is, lying through every word.

Absentmindedly, her fingers press against her lips as she exits the airport.

~*~

The address led her to a small suburban house in southern London. It’s the type of house that has large glass windows where anyone standing outside can ogle freely. Rich people houses, as she likes to call it. She had a few missions in the past with people living in homes like this one - always an easy kill.

A blond woman meanders about inside the house, wearing a grey silk nightgown, preparing for bedtime probably. According to Walker’s file, she’s the most recent ex - Sydney. They broke up a couple of months before he decided to go on what he thought would be his final mission, his deathstrike.

‘If only.’

Glancing from the gravel path that leads to large metal doors, she learns the woman’s delicate manoeuvres, her mind reciting every graceful gestures as she crouches down to place food for a large Maine coon cat.

‘Is that the type of woman he likes?’

August would strikes her as a man who would fuck anything with a heartbeat but he did have more than a few relationships. She can’t help but wonder if he has a type, noticing how Sydney is more of a woman than a girl; solid income, big name lawyer, a woman who can take care of herself, a woman to start a family with.

Not that she imagines Walker starting a family anytime soon.

She is pretty too, with her mid-length straight golden hair, bright eyes and a shapely body. Ingvild looks at her own outfit: jeans, sneakers and a black sleeved shirt, nowhere as classy as beautiful Sydney.

The hour is late, still she walks toward the door and rings the bell.

“Can I help you?”

Ingvild is greeted by green eyes and a subtle Welsh accent. She gives her one of her fake smiles, trying to look as charming and pleasant as a sweet doll.

“Sydney Bedford?” She asks, while briefly scanning her body. She tries to imagine what August liked about her the most; her figure? Her angelic face? Her emerald stare?

“I have some questions about August Walker, he used to…”

Sydney shakes her head vehemently, waving her hands in the air. Something in her eyes drastically changes the moment the name “August” slaps her across the face.

“Are you MI6!? Please, I don’t want to speak about that psychotic loser anymore.”

Ingvild smiles calmly, a soft chuckle leaving her throat.

“Oh you see, he disappeared…”

“Good riddance!” Sydney replies, her eyes filling with anger, her face turning red within seconds. “Listen. I already told them everything I know.”

“Please,” Ingvild begs, batting her long lashes and tilting her head like a cute little kitten. “I’m new in this and my superior will be mad if I don’t at least speak to you. May I please come in? It’s important for my investigation.”

The same childlike charm that works on men might as well work on women, for different reasons in this occasion. Sydney is a single 36-38-year old woman who lives alone with her cat.

She must have wanted a family, perhaps with Walker, no wonder she’s furious.

Leaning against the door frame, Sydney scrutinises the young girl, believing she is younger than she really is with that pale smooth face and big innocent greyish eyes.  

“Come on in, dear.” She opens the door wide, letting Ingvild step inside before closing it behind her.

The main entrance leads into a large living room, furnished with a black leather sofas and a glass coffee table. She owns a TV that is larger than Ingvild's entire living room and the walls are moulded with grey bricks, shiny from some cut stone.

Ingvild imagines how lovely it would feel to crack the shimmering stone with August’s skull.

“Would you like some tea?” Sydney offers while heading toward her luxurious kitchen.

“Please,” Ingvild answers, walking around the house and examining every corner to learn of the woman who invited her in. She nearly stumbles as the large cat rubs against her foot. “Oh,” she exclaims, lowering herself to pick the chubby feline to her arms.

She never owned a pet. Liam said it’s unnecessary.

“So like I said,” Sydney calls from the kitchen, putting the kettle on the stove. “I don’t know anything about August and where he is. All I can tell you is that he was weird.”

“Weird? How?” Ingvild asks, stroking the cat behind his ears and while it purr against her chest.

Sydney places two mugs on the black marble counter in the kitchen and opens a cabinet, looking for some tea bags. “He would disappear and then return after weeks, telling me not to ask any questions. Then, he would go away and come back in crazy hours. He was a gentleman of course but arrogant and demanding, never taking no for an answer.”

Ingvild turns to look at Sydney, arching her eyebrow as if she is surprised to learn this about the man who stabbed and drowned her in an icy lake. “Is that so?”

“Yes!” Sydney shouts back, her chest heaving as she throws the bags into the mugs and turns toward Ingvild.

“Everything had to go his way, and I won’t be surprised if he had a mistress or another family, or god! Maybe an illegal drug practice.”

The cat jumps down from Ingvild’s embrace, and she brushes the grey hairs off her black shirt. “What makes you think this way?”

“Like I said; disappearing in the middle of the night, coming back... I knew something was off so I went and... wait I… I shouldn’t tell you this, you’re an agent!” Sydney looks around her, as if she’s afraid someone might be listening to their conversation.

Ingvild takes a step forward into the kitchen, her grey eyes seeking Sydney’s, giving her a warm, kind smile. “You can tell me anything Sydney, you are not in danger, I promise. We just want to locate Walker, he hasn't reported to HQ in a while.”

Sydney observes her gaze, trying to determine her personality. She thinks the young woman seem gentle with those unique eyes and the hair that’s tucked back to a strict ponytail.

“I had him traced,” she whispers. “I know I wasn’t supposed to because he is CIA, and trust me I was scared but I had to know.”

“How did you do that?” Ingvild asks, tilting her head with curiosity and slight disbelief. It seems odd that a man like Walker was bugged by some dumb lawyer woman.

“I did his laundry, it wasn’t hard to hide something inside the pocket of his jacket. I mean, inside the fabric, where he can’t find it.”

Ingvild can’t help but let out a small snort, amused by the fact that the infamous CIA agent got made so easily. She covers her mouth with her fist, shyly smiling into it, but it’s noticed by Sydney who stands in front of her, staring oddly.

“Where would he go?”

“Some place in South Kensington, almost every day for the last month of our relationship. He would vanish there for hours and then come back. I have the address, hold on.” Sydney leaves the kitchen and walks through a long corridor.

Not bothering with politeness, Ingvild follows her, easy off her feet like the big grey cat, carefully exploring this new territory. She imagines the fights August would have with this woman and then the passionate sex afterwards while her hand runs against the texture of the garnet.

“Oh!” Sydney exclaims, confused to see Ingvild in the doorway of her bedroom. The young woman looks around curiously, trying to find any memorabilia from August; a photo, a clothing article, man cologne. It seems like he was never even been here, though there is a certain coldness in this room that feels strangely familiar.

‘No, not August, his touch is warm.’

“He did trading or something,” Sydney says as she hands her over a small yellow note that was hidden in her purse. It has the address to August’s “secret lover”.

Ingvild takes the notes, memorizing the address before placing it in her jeans pocket. “Trading? Can you elaborate?”

She shrugs. “He asked me to not disturb him while he was doing some dealing, I don’t know what it was… it looked fishy but it might just be CIA stuff.”

Ingvild nods silently, scanning the room again and again and eventually taking in the sight of the empty bed. Her mind fills in the gaps, painting an image of August fucking Sydney into oblivion, his muscular body ramming into hers, one leg held over his shoulder while the blond little bitch screams in ecstasy.

“How was he in bed? Would you say he performed well?” Ingvild asks, her eyes gesturing toward the mattress.

Sydney frowns, giving her a slight repulsed face as she finds her question remarkably rude.

“How is this relevant to the investigation?”

She means to berate her when she witnesses Ingvild’s kind smile growing remarkably cold.

The young woman remains silent, taking a step closer and making Sydney almost stumble back as sudden fear creeps in. Grey frigid eyes, like icy shards, her nostrils slightly flares as she catches up the scent of her expensive perfume.

“How is this relevant to the MI6?!” Sydney asks again, trying to dismiss the tension yet continues to draw distance from the young agent.

“I never said I am MI6.”

Sydney’s back hits the wall with a soft thud, she attempts to flee but Ingvild’s hands lock around her shoulders, forcing her against the wall with a thud. As small as this woman is, she is way stronger than she appears.

“How was he in bed?” she repeats, her voice becoming more demanding while her glare threatening to spear into Sydney’s skull. “Would you say he satisfies you?”

Puny gasps peal from Sydney’s mouth, her green eyes becoming moist with pure fear.

“Please, don’t... He was... Rough.”

“Bondage?”

“He... he..he choked me,” she answers in a trembling voice, her lower lip quivering, much to Ingvild’s delight.

“He was too rough, he was big and he didn’t care, it was as if he enjoyed my pain...”

Ingvild licks her bottom lip, imagining Sydney thrown on the bed with August treating her like a rag doll, wrecking her completely. Bruises left everywhere, tattoos on her skin for the world to see this fine artist’s work. A cold flame licks at her spine, crawling down to the small of her back.

She’s uncertain why.

“Would you say he loved you?”

Sydney’s peers at her quietly, thinking of her answer for a few seconds while Ingvild’s fingers bury into her collarbone, voicelessly demanding a response.

“August Walker is incapable of love. He is dead inside.”

________________________________________________________

Disclaimer: I don’t own August Walker or the Mission Impossible Frenchise

[ladyreapermc]

Fic: Falling (August Walker x Reader)

Summary: angel/demons AU. You’re tired of seeing humans destroying Father’s creation so you decide to help August Walker achieve his goals.

Author’s note: This one was written for the skype prompt.

@hnryycvll @witcherwritings @yoursecretsmutblog @toomanystoriessolittletime @penwieldingdreamer @onceiwasanun

Wordcount: 3790

Warnings: smut (rough sex)

Your nose crinkled with distaste as you walked the streets, making sure to keep enough distance between yourself and the other passersby. The last thing you wanted was one of these filthy humans touching your celestial skin.

Why did Father insist on sending you down to this cesspool of sins that was Earth to watch and report back? You would never understand, but you hated every minute. In your eyes, this generation of humanity was beyond redemption. Corrupted and dirty, only caring about profit and pleasure.

Hedonistic vermin!

They shouldn’t be allowed to exist and continue to taint Father’s creation. Millenia had passed and they have profaned every aspect of this planet. The air was putrid, the earth rotten, the rivers poisoned…

Everything that was once good and beautiful was slowly dying and still, Father refused to let you intervene. He granted humans free will for a reason and they needed to want to be saved.

As you watched them around you, the filth infesting every inch of what was once a paradise, you weren’t all that confident in their ability to repent and turn back to light. And even though Father forbade it, you decided you could just give a little nudge in the right direction. You weren’t disobeying per se, just… facilitating things. Speeding their opportunity to repent for their wrongs.

You took a seat at the coffee shop and to anyone who looked, you were nothing more than a simple tourist savoring some fresh coffee, one of the few things made by humans you actually enjoyed. The Eiffel Tower behind you, illuminated by the bright afternoon sun as you discreetly watched the man sitting three tables away, reading his newspaper.

To you, most humans look the same, varying only in the disgusting rotting of their souls, but even though August Walker had one of the darkest souls you had ever encountered, you could deny he was beautiful.

Tall and thick, his shoulders and torso broad and housing solid and well-defined muscles. His face looked almost as if sculpted in the best of marble, giving him sharp lines and features. His dark hair combed neatly, hid some of the wayward curls that would sometimes fall over his eyes whenever he was doing extraneous activities.

His lips, soft, plush, and pinked by the heat of his beverage, were shaped in a perfect cupid bow that widened beautifully when a stray smile crossed his features. A rare sign that made its apparition even more special. His eyes were the blue hue of deep ocean waters and probably just as cold, his gaze always calculating and assessing his surroundings, the superior intellect obvious in them.

Yes, it was undeniable that August was a fascinating specimen of human and if what you had seen of him in the last six months was any indication, he was just perfect for what you needed. A couple of years ago he had tried to detonate plutonium bombs in an attempt of forcing the world to see the light.

He understood that sometimes to archive peace, some bloodshed must happen. Death brought hope as paradoxical as that seemed. He nearly died in his endeavor, but it seemed to only strengthen his resolve and here he was, ready to try once again and you were more than willing to help.

You couldn’t bring the change yourself, that was against the rules, but it wasn’t uncommon to offer some divine inspiration to some selected few when a situation called for it and that was your plan. To offer August with a little guidance and protection to make sure he succeeded this time around.

Finishing your coffee and setting the money on the table, you stood from your seat intending to find a new advantage position to watch August. Maybe from one of the roofs of the buildings surrounding the café, but you only managed to walk a few streets before a solid body connected to yours, pushing you against the wall. You were so surprised by the audacity of this bug to touch you that you didn’t realize at first that it was August. Not until his mouth brushed against your ear, his breath ghosting your skin.

“Why are you following me?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

His grip on your arm tightened, tugging your wrist higher against your back and forcing your shoulder in an unnatural angle. He pressed you tighter against the wall, the rough brick surface scraping your cheek. If you were a human, it would be painful, but as it was, it was just annoying, and you had to close your eyes to hide the burning celestial fire in them.

“Don’t make me ask again. I’d hate to damage that pretty face.”

You took a deep breath, containing your fury before you dared to open your eyes, glancing sideways to catch a glimpse of August.

“I’m a free agent, much like yourself and I’ve been following you because I think we can help each other.”

“Is that right?” he snorted but let go of your arm, allowing you to turn around and face him, but didn’t step away. Instead, he caged you in, strong arms at each side of your head as he looked down at you, his eyes piercing as he weighed your words. “And how is that?”

For a moment, you couldn’t bring yourself to reply. Now that you were this close, you could detect this strange, but familiar lingering smell. Something that reminded you of home but diluted and disguised by the bouquet of scents of metal and gunpowder, and sin that whiffed off August. Yet, that sweetness was undeniable, like fresh rain in the morning, clean and pure and suddenly you knew why August was so appealing, unlike all the other humans. He wasn’t a human at all.

“Oh.” You breathed out dumbly as you looked at him, noticing the realization coloring his eyes pitch black as his lips drew into a smirk.

“Does Daddy know you’re down here in the slums?”

“What do you think?” This time, you didn’t bother to hide your flames, pushing against August, but it only made him hold you tighter against the wall.

“And you say we can help each other?” he said, one perfect eyebrow raised. “Isn’t protecting humanity the gist of your job description?”

“I’ll be protecting them…” you replied, cocking your head to the side to look at him. “Giving future generations a chance to be better. There cannot be peace without suffering. Isn’t that what you say?”

For a moment, you just stared at each other, sizing one up, making sure if you could trust one another. You were natural enemies after all. You, a celestial angel. Him, a fallen one turned to a demon.

“Why are you doing this?” you asked.

“If the species die, game over,” he replied, his tongue sneaking out to wet his lips and you couldn’t help but follow the motion. “Now where’s the fun in that?”

“Then like I said, we can help each other.” August just nodded, seemingly convinced, but not even remotely inclined to let you go.

“You know what can happen to you if He finds out?” August cast his gaze upwards and you nodded.

“I’m doing His work. Even if He can’t see it.”

Time ticked by slowly as the two of you stared at each other, assessing one another, trying to discover how far you could trust the other if you could trust at all. An angel and a demon working together? Unthinkable was the only thing that came to mind.

Finally, August let you go and against your better judgment, you actually missed his touch. How strange.

He reached in his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper handing it over to you. Hesitant, you glanced at it noticing a name scribbled down in neat and elegant handwriting.

“Who is this?”

“Someone in need of inspiration…” August smirked. “Of the divine kind.”

“Why?” Your thumb brushed over the letters of the name, touching the soft indentations the pen left behind.

“Now, now, birdie, you don’t expect me to just trust you, do you? Leaps of faith are your kind of deal, not mine. Do this and maybe I’ll consider telling you the rest.”

Again, you stared at each other. You hated that tilt of his perfect lips and the dancing glow of wickedness in his eyes. The way they seem to mock you. You wanted to wipe them away somehow. With your fist. Or your lips.

Instead, you unfolded your wings, making August jump back startled as the strong bones and muscles stretched wide, the pearly white feathers glowing in the sun like bright diamonds, blinding and beautiful. You could see the awe in his eyes, and it was your time to smirk as you offered him a hand.

“How long has it been since you flew, August?”

“A few eons,” he stepped closer to you, ignoring your hand and circling your waist with his arms, his embrace tight, his fingers sneaking under your clothing, exploring the juncture of feather and flesh and you couldn’t hide the shiver that ran through your back.

You wrapped your arms around his strong neck, fingers threading through the soft curls on his nape before you looked up, bending your knees and canting your wings so you could take flight with August’s body pressed against yours.

It was a short journey from where you met August to the man’s apartment and you landed on the balcony with a soft thud, both of you cloaked from view by your powers as you walked into the cluttered flat that reeked of chemicals.

The man in question was perched on a stool, peering into a microscope, looking up periodically to make notations on his notepad, before his gaze returned to the equipment.

At each step you took closer to him, it almost felt like you were crossing a wall of his foul smell. It was rancid as if the man that hadn’t showered in days, mixed with the overly sweet and putrid stench of decaying food. You gagged a little and even August seemed bothered by the cloud of odor that stubbornly tried to cling to your skin.

He had better luck than you because he could keep a distance. You needed to move closer, your lips almost brushing against the man’s ear as you let out a heavy exhale, the air billowing from your nose and mouth a solace of purity against the filth.

You watched as the man breathed in deep, his eyes taking the familiar flick of flame, just a pale comparison of yours but his hand moved against the paper, drawing out incomprehensive formulas by instinct. Once he exhaled, his eyes cleared, his hand stopped, and he looked down in awe at his own work, scrambling to find his phone.

Watching over his shoulder you saw him browse through his contacts, finding the name Lark and sending him a short message:

Formula completed. The toxin will be ready in 12 hours.

As soon as he hit send, you heard a noise and turned to see August pulling out his own phone, his lips drawing into a smirk as he met your eyes. Now you knew his plans.

“Where will it be released?” you asked once the two of you left the chemist’s apartment and returned to the café where it all started. This time, sharing a table, the orange rays of sunset surrounding your both, and painting a gorgeous view, reminding once more why you were doing this.

“In every major city of first world countries.” There was a quiet detachment in August’s voice as if he didn’t care one way or the other. “It kills fast and spreads even faster. The economy will crumble in weeks. They’ll have to build it up from the ground. The trial run will be tonight. Here.”

You swirled the black liquid in your cup, watching the spirals forming like a tiny tornado. You did not regret your actions, but there was deep sorrow for the consequences, not because of the humans but because you knew how this would pain Father. He was strangely attached to these vermin that walked the Earth.

“Then it’s done.” You raised to your feet, shielding your eyes with sunglasses. “Our association ends here.”

“Doesn’t have to,” August spoke, his blue eyes swimming with something you didn’t recognize as he raised himself from his own seat, coming to stand too close to you and offering you his hand. “We could… extend this partnership.”

You should turn around and walk away. The things his voice promised were too dangerous to contemplate and you shouldn’t be thinking about them or him. Your mission was done, and you should go back home. Wait for Father’s judgment of your deeds but what would be the point? To see the White City one last time? To be reminded of all you would lose for the rest of your existence? Prolong you suffering?

You took August’s offer, letting him guide you to his hotel. The room’s window panels overlooking the skyline and the lights of the city like twinkling stars in the night as you contemplated the view, imagining them as each one of the humans you were tasked to watch over, shining like little fireflies that soon would have their lights extinguished.

You felt August hovering behind you seconds before you saw his reflection on the window, the warmth of his body seductive and tempting you to just lie back against his chest. He handled you a glass of deep red wine, his thick fingers trailing over your arm as he pulled back, making you shiver.

“Why bother? Alcohol has no effect on us,” you said, tilting your head back to look at him and his lips drew into that familiar smirk.

“Because it tastes good.” He sipped from his drink, the liquid tinting his mouth of blood-red before August’s attention shifted somewhere else, his smirk widening. “It’s starting.”

You looked back out the window wishing you could see the beginning of the ruin. You wanted to walk among the dying pest, watch them desperately claiming the heavens for forgiveness. Maybe later, right now, the way August’s mouth pressed against your neck, soft and teasing as he tasted you demanded all of your attention.

“I never fucked an angel before,” he commented and you turned to watch him.

You had never been with a demon either. Or anyone for that matter. Neither had your vessel. They needed to be pure to contain the power of divinity. And soon enough, you wouldn’t be anything, your destiny beyond your sight might as well try it.

Stepping closer to August’s warmth, you let your free hand move over the soft fabric of his shirt, tracing the shapes of his chest as you watched his eyes, letting him know you accepted his offer. As soon as you did, his mouth was over yours in a hard, demanding kiss, his fingers threading through your hair, pulling closer and laying claim to your mouth.

You had never felt something this. Sure you could access the memories of your vessel and she had kissed before, quick little pecks on the lips or slow, timid kisses, but nothing with this searing passion and you could feel a fire starting deep inside you as August devoured your mouth, rough and biting, throwing his glass aside along with yours so he could touch all of you.

With his now free hand, he explored the plains of your lower back, cupping your ass until your pressed flush against him, feeling his hardness against your lower belly as he guided backward to the couch, taking a seat and just looking at you.

“Take those off,” he ordered, looking at you with dark eyes a certain hunger burning deep in them. You obeyed without a word, stripping for him and letting his gaze run over the small frame of your vessel. “So beautiful, birdie.”

You were surprised by the gentleness of his touch as he led you to his lap, making you straddle his thick legs, your center in full view for his pleasure. This time, when he caught you by your hair, he tugged your head back hard and your scalp burned slightly, making you whimper.

Teeth and lips attacked your neck and jaw leaving sharp, stinging bites and suckles that had you wincing and flinching despite the deep need taking hold inside you. How strange were humans? They possessed such soft flesh but enjoyed inflicting and receiving so much pain

His other hand cupped and squeezed your breasts, fingers pinching and pulling your nipples until you were arching and rocking against the bulge in his pants, steady flow of moans and incomprehensible pleas coming from your mouth almost against your will, your center hot, wet and throbbing as if summoning something to complete it.

“Let me see them,” August growled against your neck, his beard scratching your skin, leaving bright red marks to accompany the purple ones that were beginning to form.

You unfolded your wings, spreading them wide and they nearly occupied the entire length of the room. August ran his fingers over the feather covering the strong muscle, descending to the juncture of your back almost in awe.

“You’re going to miss them,” he said, meeting your eyes. “Sometimes, it will feel like they are there again and you can just soar free but when you look back, there’s nothing but burnt stumps.”

You let your hands move down his chest, undoing his buttons and pushing the dark shirt over his shoulders, but when your curious fingers moved down his shoulder blades, August caught your wrists, tightening to the point of pain before bringing them down to his lap and over his hard and pulsing shaft.

“If you want to touch something, touch this.”

You obeyed, rubbing him through his slacks, watching as August leaned his head back, lips drawn into a smug smile. Especially when you moved to your knees between his open legs, undoing his zipper and buttons so you could free his cock.

“Isn’t this a lovely sight?” his voice was laced with amusement as he looked at you. “How many demons have ever brought angels to their knees?”

“Don’t make me regret this,” you warned, hand exploring the thick hardness of his cock, feeling the skin velvety and hot, the veins pulsing as you stroked him.

“A little too late for that, birdie,” August scoffed, grabbing you by the hair and tugging hard enough to bring tears to your eyes as he pushed his length past your lips, making you choke. “You have already sinned, might as well enjoy the ride.”

He used your mouth to his pleasure, shoving his cock down your throat until you were gagging and spluttering, unable to breathe. Strangely enough, his treatment of you seemed to only ignite the burning heat inside you, making you moan and tremble, your arousal running down your thighs as you pressed them together to relieve some of the burning emptiness of your cunt.

This shouldn’t feel this good. It was like every second that passed, August’s touches became scorched in your skin, vibrant and bright, making that exhilarating fire run through your veins, urging your body to welcome his claim, receive his thrusts like they were the bridge to your new paradise. His grunts and growls, your heavenly music.

You nearly cried when he pulled back from your mouth, the only connection between you two became the string of spit and precum clear under the iridescent lights of the room.

“You enjoyed that, birdie?” he asked with a smirk, bending down to kiss you as he brought you back to his lap, his cock hard and twitching against your waiting cunt. “You enjoy how I use you?”

“Yes.” You confessed, sighing as his rough fingertips trailed up your thigh, finding your soaked center to play and explore. “Please, don’t stop.”

“I wasn’t planning to,” August declared pushing two fingers inside you, making you hiss and buck, pleasure like sharp shards cutting you open against your will, revealing that hidden need within. “So fucking tight.”

There was nothing gentle about his touch. It wasn’t about you or your pleasure. That was an unintended consequence that you embraced and succumbed to, rolling your body against the fingers penetrating you, his thumb rubbing and swirling your clit to make you wide and wet enough for him.

As August felt satisfied with his preparation, he pulled his fingers back, making you whimper at the loss but soon enough he was guiding your hips up, lining you with his cock and pushing inside you, making you nearly scream as he invaded you so deeply, not stopping until he was sheathed completely inside you.

“Feels perfect, love,” he grinned, licking the salt of your stray tears from your cheeks before he kissed your eyes and smacked your ass to make you move.

You started slowly, grinding on his lap and sending sparks of pleasure up both of your spines. You could see August’s smile widening at the thrill of your walls hugging and squeezing him as you rolled your hips, dragging out the feel of his thick cock pressing against your walls.

Soon, you picked up your pace, lifting yourself with the help of his hands on your hips and bouncing down on his cock. Never in your existence, you had felt this full and completed. Never you felt your body burn with such bright heat, sweat slicking down your skin as wave after wave of unimaginable bliss surged through you as if you were a little, fragile boat trying to endure a storm that threatened to claim you.

The faster you moved, the faster the feeling grew, and it became almost like a tide once August started meeting your movements, thrusting up every time you bounced down in perfect synchronicity. Before you were ready, you were swallowed by pleasure, the fire inside you erupted and consumed you.

You arched and cried out to the skies, your vision blacking out and the heat spreading. You felt it devouring your wings and the searing pain mingled with your ecstasy, occupying every inch of your conscience.

Through all, August didn’t stop moving, didn’t stop thrusting into you as if his pleasure only increased from your own disgrace and it wasn’t until your wings were completely consumed that he finally stilled beneath you, spilling his seed hot and thick inside you, his groans muffled against the crook of your neck.

“Welcome to the fallen, birdie,” his whispered once he caught his breath, his kisses against you jaw almost caring. “You’re one of us now.”

xxx

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[seijch]

➣ ushijima wakatoshi: a being capable of bringing entire armies to their knees, wielder of the severin cleaver, and the one whose appearance turns your world upside down.

ushijima wakatoshi + gender neutral!reader (no pronouns mentioned)

high fantasy au

1.2k

this fic is inspired by the video game xenoblade chronicles 2, but knowledge of that game is not needed to enjoy this fic :-)

You lived a simple life before Ushijima Wakatoshi.

It was a simple life, stitched together haphazardly with odd jobs and courier duty, but it was a simple life nonetheless. It's long days and hard work, sweat beading at your hairline; it's also all you know.

A trade ship has come to port, bringing with it goods and commodities the town can't supply on its own. The land was fertile, sure, but all your technology was imported from the faraway Mor Ardain. You were, as always, tasked with making sure everything got where it needed to go. This was easy. This was routine. You brace yourself (both mentally and physically) for the ache in your feet that's sure to come.

Thankfully, the day goes by rather quickly. You're on one of your last jobs, en route to the bakery, when you collide with a young man.

Your brain is on autopilot, steadying him while you set the crate of supplies on the ground, hoping this interaction won't throw off your momentum. "Oh," you say, on your knees to return the things that have spilled from his knapsack, "I'm sorry, let me help you-"

His warning comes a second too late: "Don't touch that!"

That: a glowing mauve gem you've just wrapped your hand around. It's a bit warm, if not heavier than it had looked.

The pleasant warmth turns into a surprising heat as the crystal lights up, so bright you shield your eyes with your free hand. When it subsides, there is a man standing before you.

Human men: comprised of flesh, bone, and certainly not rectangular gems set neatly into the junction between the base of their throat and their collarbone. 

This is not a man, no matter how much he might resemble one. No, in front of you now is a blade, capable of bestowing upon their wielders — known as drivers — their power and (more importantly) their weapon. Any one of them could raise hell in the right hands, this much you know to be true. You've heard the legends of drivers felling the most fearsome of monsters. (You’d wanted to be a driver, once--but that was before reality had set in.)

"My name is Ushijima Wakatoshi." In his hands is a double-sided battleaxe so large it makes you look puny in comparison. "My power is yours." To demonstrate, he twirls the handle of the axe in one fluid motion before slamming a razor-sharp edge into the ground.

At the point of impact is what can only be called a miniature crater, displaced dirt flying everywhere.

A crowd has gathered; it's not very often a blade is awakened so publicly, let alone one so strong. And strong he is, he must be; his very aura tells you this blade, this...Ushijima, must be a cut (or two, maybe twenty) above the rest. By now, the routine you'd been so eager to follow has gone completely off the rails, a loose thread tugged on and undoing all the work you've done.

Ushijima, ignorant to your plight, offers the handle to you. His palms are face up as he does, open and ready. For a moment, there is silence in the bustling market. Everyone watches with bated breath for your next move.

The young man whose blade you'd just stolen decides to make it for you.

"What do you think you're doing?" he asks, pointing an accusatory finger at you. "You summoned a blade from my core crystal!" He tries to claim Ushijima for himself, wrapping both hands around the axe handle.

It doesn't work. He caves under its weight, knees hitting the ground almost instantly. Ushijima picks the axe up as though it were a toothpick. "You are not my driver." Coming from his mouth, it sounds irrefutable. You're sure the actual driver with actual experience would be a better fit for all this than you, but you keep your mouth shut.

He offers the weapon to you once more. "If you'll have me, I assure you that all who dare oppose us will be shown no mercy."

Drivers were powerful. They were also stupid. Who willingly throws themselves in the face of death in the hopes that they come out on top?

You lived a simple life before Ushijima Wakatoshi.

You'll live a simple life after him, too.

"I'm sorry," you tell him, picking the crate back up. "I don't think I'm what you're looking for."

And you walk away.

(You weren't cut out for a life on the road, of odd jobs more dangerous than the deliveries and repairs you were accustomed to. Your head was in the clouds when you thought you could make a living as a driver. As harsh as the ground beneath you might feel, coming down from those lofty dreams is a much better fate than being eaten by some hostile creature.)

What you don't expect is for him to follow, to take the supplies in his hands in an act of service. "I'm afraid I don't understand. You are worthy. You would not have survived my awakening if you were not." That much is true; you've heard horror stories of weak bodies attempting to summon strong blades. It never ends well, often with month-long migraines or worse yet, bodies gone still and pulses long gone.

"Whatever crime-fighting, monster-killing life you expect from me isn't going to happen. I'm no driver. I have a hard enough time as it is." You take the crate back. "You can find someone else."

"...I can't.” 

“Huh?”

“Blades cannot switch drivers, not without a crystal that very few have ever come across." He tries to reclaim the crate, but you swivel out of the way. (It ends up in his arms anyway. You don't know what to do, fingers twitching now that there's nothing to hold.)

"I will not push the issue further, but let me say this: there is potential in you to become strong, whether you realize it or not." He speaks with enough conviction to make your head spin. To him, this is fact. To you, this is a compliment beyond compare. "They call people like you diamonds in the rough. I will leave the choice of polishing it up to you."

You don't say anything, but you don't need to. Ushijima's words have wormed their way into your head, taken root in the recesses of your brain. You finish your deliveries. (News travels fast; everyone is well aware of who your newfound companion is.) The only thing left on your checklist is to figure out what to do with the blade that’s walked alongside you without complaint.

You lived a simple life before Ushijima Wakatoshi.

But when you take the axe in your hands under the light of the dying sun, it feels so right that you wonder if this serendipitous set of circumstances may have been preordained after all. You feel...worthy.

You lift it, bringing it down in a hefty swing. (It takes a bit of effort to avoid slicing your foot clean off.) You're not sure if it's just a trick of the light, but you swear you see the corners of his mouth quirk up when you do.

Your simple life was stitched together, fraying at the seams as you tried to make ends meet. Ushijima's arrival brings with it an entirely new fabric, a second chance to weave the tapestry of life into something worth living.

A question: when you return the axe to him, he lets it sit on his open palms, face up and open once again.

An answer: you wrap your fingers against the handle once more, meeting his gaze head-on.

Life was never meant to be simple, anyway.

[ts-unpopular-opinions]

Side Track Opinions part 5: Roman

(I’ve been saving Roman for a while now and I am PUMPED! So here’s a late birthday present to our royal lad ❤️ It’s also super nice to save the creativitwins for last because both of their playlists reference each other quite a bit 👌)

1) A Gay Disney Prince: I mean... are any of us surprised? This song is basically Roman’s anthem, so it was bound to be on his playlist. I do find it interesting that both Roman and Remus are the only sides with songs made by Thomas on their playlists. I guess it goes to show that having a big ego runs in the creative family 😂

2) Wonderboy: Only two songs in and we already have a song about Remus, or “young Nastyman, archrival and nemesis of Wonderboy” in this case. You’ll start to get the idea from Roman’s playlist that he really misses being with his bro. This song portrays Roman as almost a perfect and untouchable force. He is seperated from all of his nasty thoughts and is the perfect embodiment of what Thomas sees creativity as (“High above the mucky-muck, castle made of clouds, There sits Wonderboy, sitting oh so proudly. Not much to say when you're high above the mucky-muck.”). I like to imagine that the singer of the song is Thomas, looking to Roman for comfort. Creativity most likely split as a way for Thomas to, not very healthily, cope with his intrusive thoughts (“Wonderboy, what is the secret of your power? Wonderboy, won't you take me far away from the mucky-muck man?”). It’s also interesting to note that at the end of the song, Roman and Remus seemingly join forces very successfully (“Well, Wonderboy and Young Nastyman joined forces; they formed a band the likes of which have never been seen”). Perhaps this is hinting at either Romans want to have his bother back, or possibly foreshadowing to their relationship dynamic in the future. I know I’d love to see Roman and Remus team up together in future episodes, maybe even against Patton and Janus in the next episode?

3) Disney Princess: This song is all about Roman dreaming about being in the lives of different disney princesses. Honestly it’s not super deep, but it does show just how much Roman loves to fantasize about escaping reality and living in his ideal dream world. He wishes his life were more interesting and exciting like what you would see in a movie. Also, Roman is SO desperate for someone to love him... poor guy (“I'd be a handsome man's wife And we'd kiss and we'd kiss And we'd kiss”).

4) Broadway, Here I Come!: (tw suicide) So this song is... interesting. It can be interpreted in two different ways: one being a song about how making it on broadway is a huge leap and very difficult, and another about a person literally jumping off of a building and commiting suicide. I always think of Logic vs Passion during this song because while Roman believes he is acchieving his dreams and is willing to take risks, Logan just believes he’s setting himself up for failure. I think Logan’s view on Thomas’ life and career choice is very hard on Roman and, by the topic of the song, affects him greatly (“The people all are pointing. I bet they'd never guess, That the saint that they're anointing Is frightened of the mess”). He doesn’t know if Thomas will succeed and that makes him doubt himself and causes his work to suffer (“The pressure it increases, The closer that I get” “And the last thing I hear. As the impact grows near, Is it a scream or a cheer?”).

5) Hallelujah: This song, like the one before it, shows a lot of Roman’s insecurities. Roman has a set plan for Thomas in life, but he constantly doubts it and himself due to the comments he gets from other sides (“Somedays I don't think my mama Thinks I'm good enough to be a superstar” “Somedays I don't think my daddy Thinks I'm good enough to be a superstar”). I don’t know specifically which sides he could be talking about in these two lines, but Logan is definately one of them. I like to think he could also be talking about Patton. I mean Roman probably worries constantly about being too much like Remus and disappointing Patton. Roman probably literally thinks that Patton doesnt think hes GOOD enough. Despite all of this self doubt, Roman still seems determined to reach his dreams and prove the others wrong (“But one day I will show him I'm a diamond in the rough, I'll be a superstar” “Yeah, there's a crown covered in glitter and gold I'm gonna wear it, whether you like it or not”).

6) Holding Out for a Hero: This song is from Thomas’ perspective! Thomas DOES see Roman as his hero despite what Janus’ not at the end of the most recent episode may have you believe. Roman acts as Thomas’ protection from all of his darker and more disturbing thoughts. Thomas uses Roman, a picture perfect image of creativity to help him escape from all the bad things in life and in his head (“Where have all the good men gone And where are all the gods? Where's the streetwise Hercules to fight the rising odds? Isn't there a white knight upon a fiery steed? Late at night I toss and I turn And I dream of what I need”). Thomas literally created Roman to be a perfect knight in shining armor. The singer in the song shows this by listing off everything that they believe a hero needs to be/have, Similar to what Thomas would have done in the creation of Roman.

7) If I Dare: I’m conflicted about what this song could mean. At first glance it seems to be about Roman willing to do anything in order to get more creative control over Thomas (“If I dare to risk it, then I know that I'm willing to. If I dare to want this, to want more than I have” “I am holding out for more than what I have now”). Roman really wants to be trusted more and would seemingly take huge risks in order to get that. The part that throws me off is this line: “When the room gets dark, and I am quiet. There's a voice that's soft, like someone's silhouette Saying, "Don't let me go yet"”. To me, this sounds like its about Remus. Possibly Remus begging Roman to not get rid of him and to remain as one. What confuses me is that the line felt so out of place with the rest of the songs meaning. I’m not sure what to do with that information, but if anyone has ideas, let me know.

8) Go the Distance: Roman is so patient... and so unrealistically hopeful... He continues to lay down and let the other sides get their ways because he believes that the wait will be worth it when he finally gets his say (“I'll be there someday, I can go the distance” “I know every mile would be worth my while” “And a thousand years would be worth the wait. It might take a lifetime but somehow I'll see it through”). Despite how many times hes been ignored and let down, he continues to hope that his chance may come one day. Theres also this line: “But to look beyond the glory is the hardest part. For a hero's strength is measured by his heart, oh” which makes me think big time of SvS. He gave up his glory in favor of what Patton wanted because he thinks that it was the more heroic thing to do.

9) Flamboyant: The title really says it all. Roman is extra™️ and he knows that all of the other sides think so too (“I'm a very flaming flammable guy. Some say my fire burns way too high. Some say they find me too hot to touch. But I, I think it's not enough”). I also think its important to note that this song feels a bit out if place with the canon Roman that we know. From what we’ve seen of Roman, he holds back a lot. He denies a great deal of his greed and wants in order to make the others happy and fill in his “hero” persona. This song portrays Roman as having no restraint and not wanting the others to boss him around (“Don't tell me what to do, Don't tell me what to say” “Turn down? I never do” “And no time for restraint”). I’d love to see more of this assertive side of Roman in canon, but right now you can tell that he is holding back. He wishes he didn’t have to, but he feels as though it is necessary to distance himself from Remus.

10) Jumpstarted: Let me set the scene. Thomas is just out an about enjoying his day, he holds open the starbucks door for the guy behind him and... omg... he’s hot... he’s the love of your life Thomas! Roman the proceeds to fanticize about marrying and starting a family with this one random guy that they’ve never talked to nor seen before (“The only one I want is you. I hear the bells and the ring and already, Four kids and the big ol' wedding Singing, You” “And how was I to make a long walk home. You got me feeling like I'm overdosed”). This whole song is just Roman singing about his head-over heals love for a guy in Thomas’ head while Thomas has to act normal and even warns the dude to run away while he has the chance (“Take my advice and run while you still can”). Roman’s quite a hopeless romantic.

11) Brave New Girl: Remember how I said Roman has been holding back and trying to be more polite in order to make himself less like Remus? Well this song is the opposite of that. This is what Roman wants. Roman wants to let lose and be his wildest self again (“She wants a good time” “She needs to really really find what she wants” “There's a brave new girl And she's comin' out tonight” “Who knew she could feel so alive” “Won't take a back seat”). I like to imagine this song taking place after the events of POF. I mean if the others are just going to accept that Janus is good now, then does that mean Remus is good too? If that the case, then what was the point of him and Remus splitting in the first place? This song makes me think that Roman and Remus could team up together in either the next episode, or future episodes to come. Roman is lost and doesn’t really know why he is who he is anymore, so he seeks out Remus, the only one who really understands what he’s going through (“So she met this man, He was kinda rough. He said, girl, what you lookin' for? She said, I don't know I go with the flow. He said, let's get on the floor”). The man in this song could also be Janus I suppose. He does compliment the singer and flatter her, but after the events of the last episode, I find it hard to believe that Roman would be willing to fall for Janus’ flattery again.

12) Every Boy: Roman wants to kiss every boy in the world... and it’s never enough. That is all.

13) Primadonna: What a bop! This song is honestly so good! Again with Roman’s songs making him out to be a lot greedier and wild than he actually has acted in canon (“You can count on me to misbehave”). This song is what I imagine Roman would act like if he had nothing to worry about other than being himself. Roman wants a lot of things and he wants everyone to adore him for the beautiful prince he is (“All I ever wanted was the world” “I can't help that I need it all” “When you give, I want more, more, more” “I wanna be adored” “I know I've got a big ego”).

14) King: You can already tell by the name what this song is about. I’m honestly shocked how obvious it is. At this point we don’t know who made the decision for creativity to split, but this song and a couple of others in the playlist seem to suggest that it was the Roman part of original creativity who decided to push Remus out. He felt as though it was the only way to successfully move forward (“I had to break myself to carry on”). The others sides (I’d like to imagine Patton) tried to convince Creativity to split and despite his not wanting to. His decision to split seemed like it was a very hard one to make and left a lot of pain in its wake (“They say it's easy to leave you behind. I don't want to try” “Is it worth the price?”). Original creativity felt powerful and strong when he was whole, so of course he didn’t want to split (“I was a king under your control”). The song seems to suggest that he tried to repress his ‘Remus’ thoughts in order to remain whole and not lose a part of himself, but this could only work for so long (“Don't wanna have to lose All that I've compromised to feel another high. I've got to keep it down tonight”). In the end, the Roman side of creativity finally won out and both Roman and Remus decided to let each other go (“I wanna feel like you've let me go, So let me go”).

15) Cheap Queen: This song really shows Roman’s struggle with his identity. He’s so quick to change for others in order to be accepted by them (“I can be good sometimes. I'm a cheap queen. I can be a what you like. And I can be bad sometimes. I'm a real queen. I can make grown men cry” “I'm gettin' too cocky since everyone wants me, It's harder to be myself”). This convices me that the way that he’s been acting in the last few episodes (not insulting anyone, very opposed to Janus) is soley him trying to prove that he is good and nothing like Remus. He’s been hiding his true self which we see a lot of in episodes before Remus was introduced. Roman doesn’t want to disappoint Patton in fear of Patton wanting him to split again.

16) Humility: ANOTHER song about Remus. This song is really interesting. It shows us that Roman is VERY confused about his opinion on Remus. He’s lonely and feels incomplete without Remus, He NEEDS Remus back (“I need you in the picture That's why I'm calling you” “I'm the lonely twin, the left hand” “I don't want this isolation” “See the state I'm in now?”). Right after Roman has these thoughts and feelings though, he instantly tries to block them out and retrain the idea that Remus is bad (“Reset myself and get back on track”). He wants Remus back so badly and feels some sort of remorse for kicking him out, but then he ignores those emotions and acts like he hates Remus another moment (“If I pick it up when I know that it's broken Do I put it back? Or do I head out onto the lonesome trail And let you down?”).

17) Aint Got it Like That: Roman is greedy and wants a lot of things, we’ve established this. Most of this song is about how Roman wants more than what he has now, but he still believes it will come if he just waits long enough (“'Cause I ain't really got it like that And one day Imma have it like that And I know that it can't stay this way And one day Imma finally get paid”).

18) Dreamer: I’m not sure whose perspective this song is from, but this feels like a comfort song to Roman. We know that he has a lot of insecurities and struggles to create things because he worries that his ideas won’t be good enough or will be too much like Remus’ ideas. But this song goes completely against that mindset. It’s what Roman wants to hear: “Dream little dreamer, Don't care what they say” “You can do anything” “Dream like you won't fail. Sing like no one's there. Dance like you don't care. Dream.” “Don't fear little dreamer, You'll get there one day” “And I know that it's scary, But you'll succeed” “You're exeptional, You're original” “You're magnificent, You're sensational”.

19) Paving the Runway: This feels like a song from Roman to Thomas and gosh it just feels so loving and sweet... Roman has such big dreams for Thomas and he has so much faith in him (“Cause I know that one day you're gonna fly”). He encourages Thomas to go for his dreams and excel, something that he is hardly told himself (“Go after your dreams, Crazy as they may seem. Go chase all the stars in the sky” “You will reach higher than I ever could”). Roman does everythig he can to set Thomas up for success and to help him reach his dreams (“Darling, stand on my shoulders” “Baby, I'll be paving the runway”).

20) Go.: Again, I’m not sure who the singer of this song is, but I can tell its exactly what Roman wants/needs to hear. Roman is very clearly holding back due to his fear of becoming too much like Remus and that is making it very hard to do his job (“The fear within Has held you hostage. Break free and live. GO.”). This is a good song to be Roman’s last song because I think it helps to show us where Roman’s character is going in the future. He is going to let lose and relax eventually. Perhaps this will lead to him creating the better relationship with Remus that he’s been hoping for throughout this whole playlist. I predict that next episode, well start to see some of this newer, less refrained creativity from Roman.

(And that’s that! If you can tell that theres some tension between Roman and Remus from this playlist, just you wait for Remus’! As usual, let me know what you thought of this ❤️ Love you guys!)

[resbangmod]

Resbang 2017 Throwbacks, Week 2, Part 3

Time to get hype for this year’s Resbang, and what better way to do so than to check out the ghosts of Resbangs Past!

Come say hi to this year’s participants and mods on Discord!

This year’s schedule can be found here: beep

[T] Steady Hands, Steady Heart [Soul/Maka]

“I don't know. I guess it was a lot of little things. They didn’t understand Soul. And they didn't have to work to understand me, so I guess they just never tried”. A visit to the Evans Estate, the first one for Maka. She had never met Soul’s parents, could hardly get a word from him about them, so a family visit to the east coast was the perfect opportunity. But she knew more than anyone that friendly smiles only meant so much.

Warnings: none

by author:@toooceanblue

with artist: @bapha

Read it here: [ao3][ffn]

View it here: [ tumblr, twitter]

[T] The Lost Warrior [Soul/Maka, Kid/Liz, Tsubaki/Black Star, Eu/Ayumu, Kami/Nene]

Life goes on and Maka's family grows as new additions to her family join her life along with the return of her mother. But a threat has followed her mother back to Death City, an threat from the age of Camelot has reared it's ugly head threatening everything. Maka and her friends and family have to fight to save the lives they've built. 

Warnings: Some violence nothing too graphic,. Some minor character do die.

by author: @addude

with artist: Oakwoodouroboros, dead link

Read it here: [ffn]

View it here: [tumblr]

[M] Love me again, Husband (Error 404: good title not found) [Soul/Maka]

The Vow AU. A motorcycle accident leaves Soul missing years of his life, memories of how he met and fell in love with his wife, Maka Albarn. He's left trying to pick up the pieces of the life he doesn't remember with Maka by his side, but it isn't easy when his heart belongs to someone else and his memories don't fit in with his current lifestyle. It's a tug of war with the person he remembers and the person he had become.

Warnings: No warnings apply

by author: @oblivion-time

with artist: @chaoticlivi

Read it here: [ao3][ffn]

View it here: [tumblr, dA 1, 2]

[M] Love is a Three Ringed Circus [Soul/Maka]

Soul is running out of time to tell Maka about his feelings for her before summer is over and she’s off to collage. Overly ‘helpful’ friends, creepy fursuits, and a stomach flipping ride called the Jack-O-Splattern sounds like the perfect romantic setting, right? ….Right?

Warnings: sexual content

by author: @bitternovembersoul

with artist: @gunningtwice

Read it here: [Grigori Wings]

View it here: [tumblr]

[T] Love Like Salt [Soul/Maka, minor Death the Kid/Black Star, Liz/Wes, Stein/Marie, Harvar/Kilik, Tsubaki/Mifune, minor Jacqueline/Kim]

All she ever wanted was to follow in her mama’s footsteps, and now Maka Albarn owns Pocket Full of Posies, the children’s bookstore her mother built from nothing. All he ever wanted was to decide his own fate, but Soul Evans took the path his parents laid out for him and currently runs the retail division of Evans, Inc. When the two clash in a vicious retail war, will their online friendship and budding romance survive that one, tiny little threat of putting her out of business? A You’ve Got Mail AU.

Warnings: Language (potty mouths abound), sexual innuendo, mentions of physical, verbal, and psychological abuse, off screen sexual content, mentions of masturbation 

by author: @professor-maka

with artist: @tilliquoi

and artist: @macabremermaid

Read it here: [tumblr] [ffn] [ao3]

View it here: [Tilliquoi: tumblr] [Macabremermaid: tumblr, youtube]

[T] Diamond in the Rough [Soul/Maka, Black Star/Tsubaki, Free/Eruka, Ragnarok/Peanuts]

Seeking a new start, Soul escapes to Death City and settles into a quiet life of stealing food and ducking guards. However, his newfound peace is soon disturbed by a slithery villain and her angry bird, an obnoxious blue-haired genie, a sentient flying skateboard and one very cute meister. A very cute meister to whom he tells one very big lie. Aladdin AU!

Warnings: Canon-typical violence, minor character “death” (wherein the character isn’t actually dead), Ragnarok’s potty mouth

by author: @silly-twin-stars

with artist: @sandmancircus

and artist: @guacamoletrash

Read it here: [ffn] [ao3]

View it here: [Sandmancircus: tumblr] [Guacamole: Tumblr 1, 2]

[M] breathe in, breathe deep [Soul/Maka, Soul & Maka & Blair, minor Tsubaki/Black Star, minor Stein/Marie]

Maka tsun-dares her way into being Soul’s sub. What she doesn’t seem to understand is that (good) doms are more than just kinky sexmasters, and that trust is the real reward in a sensual relationship.

Warnings: explicit sensual content, exhibitionism (ish), nonsexual threesome (ish), light bondage, rope bondage, anxiety attacks, rampaging bad decision dinosaur, internalized sex negativity, panic-induced bravery/brashness, hellish levels of miscommunication, potential for and recurring expectation of abuse of trust, maka is a stubborn judgy brat, boundary-pushing, maka clumsily barreling her way through all many things BDSM and being confused when it's less porny than she thought

by author: @soundofez

with artist: @treeofjessie

Read it here: [tumblr] [ao3]

View it here: [Treeofjessie: tumblr (NSFW)]

wayward souls series

[M] wayward souls: pacts [Soul/Maka]

ACT ONE: Spirited away by the supernatural, Wes Evans has been missing for five years. Soul, teamed up with huntress Maka Albarn, has been trying to track him down, but a routine job turns devastating when his partner dies. Soul makes a desperate deal to bring her back, but the price is high and the stakes are even higher with both new and old enemies on the rise... [Supernatural Series AU]

Warnings: Violence, Blood and Gore, Psychologically Distressing Situations, PTSD, Language

[M] wayward souls: allies [Soul/Maka, Kim/Jackie, Free/Eruka]

ACT TWO: Sought by both Medusa and Arachne, Soul and Maka are in dire straits. Soul struggles with his dangerous, unstable powers and his rapidly shortening lifespan. Faced with the prospect of losing her partner, Maka begins to question the life she leads. More than ever, they'll need the help of allies, both human and otherwise, to save Wes, and each other. [Supernatural Series AU]

Warnings: Violence, Blood and Gore, Psychologically Distressing Situations, PTSD, Language, Dreamworld Suicide

by author: @jaded-envy

with artist: Aer (@thefishywitchy)

and artist: Marsh of Sleep

Read act one here: [tumblr] [ao3] [ffn]

Read act two here: [tumblr] [ao3] [ffn]

View it here: [Thefishywitch: tumblr] [Marsh of Sleep: Tumblr 1, 2, 8tracks, youtube]

[T] Now the Night Rises [Soul/Maka]

After surviving a near-fatal confrontation with Soul’s murderer, Giriko, Maka and Soul are recruited by the DWMA, an agency committed to eliminating supernatural threats that come from holes in the Rift, the barrier that divides their world’s dimension from the supernatural one. While Soul is reluctant to join, he eventually agrees and ignores the widening cracks in his soul that have nothing to do with the poltergeists and creatures he and Maka take down and everything to do with the growing compulsion consuming him from the inside out.

Meanwhile, something unlike anything that has crossed over into their world emerges from the Rift. Something horrific and monstrous that wields death and calls to Soul.

Warnings: none

by author: @lunar--resonance

with artist: @Nori-wings

Read it here: [tumblr] [ao3] [ffn]

View it here: [tumblr]

[katsukikitten]

Heated 2

A/N long awaited! Enjoy bbs

"Do you know why I've brought you here?" Aizawa asks as Scarlet eyes rove over the chamber.

It is a ten by ten space of Vanadium steel and diamond one way glass. The inside of the isolation chamber is bright, illuminated with soft lighting contrasting to the contents.

A guttural scream rips up your throat as you pound on the glass and steel alike. Fists bruised, crimson falling in fat drops from your hands. Burning hot rage flows through your veins with no outlet in sight as your body encourages you to attempt to break free.

To hurt who has hurt you so deeply.

Bakugou bites his lip and Aizawa continues when he does not answer.

"I brought you here to remind you of the influence of your actions and words. Believe it or not Y/LN has a good reign on her temper but somehow you get under her skin." Brown eyes flicker from the ash blonde back to you.

A large monitor displays your heart rate at an alarming 180 beats per minute documenting how it has yet to drop below 175 even after an hour.

"Let me talk to her." Bakugou's voice comes out rough, almost raw as if from disuse as he watches your hands slam against the steel and a dent is made.

"I believe you've done enough." He looks down at the hot head before taking smooth strides to the control panel, "Y/N do not make us sedate you."

"I FUCKING DARE YOU!" You turn to face where you think his voice is coming from. Bringing your numb fists down onto the glass causing a small fissure to form.

You feel the power drain for your body for a moment before it returns, Aizawa is either getting closer to his limit or you were finally becoming immune.

A scary thought.

"Midnight!" Aizawa calls out but she shakes her head.

"My perfume no longer lulls her to sleep. She's going to have to stay in there awhile."

"Densensitized even." All Might says with a heavy heart as he looks to Aizawa, "Let's go young Bakugou."

Katsuki sucks his teeth as All Might's wide palm finds broad shoulders guiding him to the exit but this does not stop him from looking over his shoulder.

He watches Aizawa flip a few switches, the lights in the chamber go out and suddenly the silence is deafening aside from the sounds of steel groaning from force.

Hours pass and Bakugou still relives the eventful evening.

The hot tears in your eyes as you beat on Kirishima. The blatant apathy over your own well being as you uselessly beat onto the worlds strongest steel and glass and for what?

Severely injured fists and to be left in the blinding dark?

His stomach twists over the thought of you being all alone in the sound of dead silence.

Each thought is amplified over the fact that he has yet to hear you reenter the dorm and slam your heavy oak door.

You had to have calmed down by now.

So why the fuck weren't you home?

He turns over with a growl, lying on his back as his eyes find the ceiling, just before the find the digital clock above his bed.

2:45AM

"Fuck..." He hisses, unable to find sleep despite his begging. Finally he stands deciding on what he is going to do.

He tells himself he's just going to check on you, nothing more, as he slides on his shorts.

He yanks a t shirt over his head, sure to grab his phone before heading out the door.

The crisp winter air has a slightly warmer breeze to it, reminding him that spring is on the way.

And with spring comes new beginnings.

At least that is what he is hoping for as he careens through life, struggling to find a balance.

He felt as if you helped him grow but he threw it all away didn't he?

One the day Emi asked him out because he was too fucking scared to ask you.

He growls making quick work of crossing the campus, memorizing the steps to get to you, knowing full well your isolation chamber would be close to the teacher's dorms.

Bakugou snarls as he thinks unable to do what he wants to do.

Because what he wants to do is blow up the front door and waltz in but instead his memory is jogged by the key pad.

He inspects it closely, looking for numbers that are more worn than others before replaying the memory of Aizawa bringing him here.

His fingers fly across four digits and the door *beeps* with satisfaction paired with a soft *click*.

Bakugou grabs onto the door handle quickly, not giving the door time to change its mind.

He retraces his steps before he finds himself in the dark room that over looks your chamber.

Light is once again restored but a part of him wishes it hadn't been.

His eyes study you, curled in a ball with your back to him.

The monitor reads 76 beats per minute, still high for someone who is as athletic as you although it is still with in resting range.

His eyes do not over look over the fact that is barely been that for an hour, he exhales harshly.

You perk, lifting part of your body to listen, you hear a heart beat and stand.

You only see your own reflection in the glass, it is slightly distorted from the crack causing you to see several versions of yourself.

Each more pathetic than the last.

Bakugou's heart races as he stares at you, your forehead bruised, if not slightly split into your hair line. Uniform mostly torn with sleeves dyed red to the elbows, almost caked in the once sticky substance. His heart pounds faster when you speak.

"Aizawa Sensei?" Your voice is raw from over use, you fight back tears. You're exhausted, eyes heavy but refuse to close, body shaking from the falling high of adrenaline and body aching from all the rampaging you have done.

"I..I'm tried Sensei. Please let me go home." Your voice cracks as you long for your bed or to curl agaisnt someone. You shake from the weight of the back blow that is your quirk and Bakugou holds his breath, his own rage beginning to turn.

He is angry with Sensei for leaving you here but most importantly he is angry with himself for putting you here.

"Please sensei, I've been calm, my heart rate is low. Please...." Your heart rate lowers another bpm or two before tears visibly fall down your cheeks, "I'll be good."

His heart shatters in his chest, he wants to bust you out of there. To hold you and tell you how fucking stupid he is.

But Aizawa's voice echoes in his head.

*"I believe you've done enough."*

So he turns on his heel no longer able to face his grave mistake as he hears you slam your fist onto the glass half heartedly as he walks out of the building.

Your absence haunts him for the next few days.

But not as badly as your tears. His skin pops even now at the memory as he waits for class to start. Bodies file in but none of these damn extras matter.

Normally vibrant eyes are dull as they stare fixated on nothing as he thinks, waiting for another day of hell to happen.

Suddenly he hears that perfect melody, that throaty laugh that caught his attention in the first place.

The kind that demands to be heard and to be joined. He looks up to spy you walking in with Kirishima, matching bandages alike.

You two seem friendly again, causing conflicting emotions to tighten his chest. Hope and jealousy fist fight it out before falling into his gut.

"Y/N.."He doesn't realize he is whispering but you walk down the aisle past him, not even bothering to glance his way.

It's as if you twisted the knife in his chest.

"Class settle down and let's begin."

Bakugou notices quickly that you are avoiding him over the next day and a half and he cannot stand it.

Espeically not after what he has foolishly realized much too late.

That his heart acts different around you. It was once calm and now it is beating against his rib cage demanding to know why the two of you are not near.

It bothers him enough to make a hasty plan and a bad one at that. You've been walking back to the dorms with Kiri lately, all it would take is one innocent favor asked of the red head and he would be out of sight.

So Bakugou asks him to head to the dorms early so he can prep dinner duty that the two of them share. Kirishima agrees without fail and with a smile at that.

Guilt does not cling to the hot head nor does it try to worm it's way into his chest especially since it's already devoured his heart whole.

Tears flash through his mind solidifying what he is about to do. He grips his backpack straps with popping hands before falling in step beside you.

"Y/N." He feels out of breath although there is hardly any physical action, you ignore him and he grabs onto you.

You stand still like a cat caught by prey, hoping that if they do not move long enough the prey will forget about them.

Bakugou is no prey, he too is a preditor. He pushes when he should drop it.

"Y/N!" This time a growl as he whirls you to face him to be met with the definition of ferocity.

"Don't." You hiss as you rip your arm away. He notices the device on your wrist as it reads 115. He can deduce what that number represents.

"Why are you fucking avoiding me?" He snaps and you shut your eyes tightly.

Was he fucking serious?

One

Two

Three

Four

Five.

Your heart rate decreases some as you mentally count before answering.

"You cannot be that self absorbed Bakugou." You bite, "You're the reason I've been fucking absent."

"I know." He bites back before running his hand through his hair.

Something you always liked to see him do during a fight or training. You bite your lip, angry with yourself.

Five

Four

Three

Two

One

You cannot allow your heart rate to raise without a valid excuse and especially cannot let it rise above 170, the tipping point of your rage.

"I'm sorry." He finally sighs out and you take a step back.

"What?"

"I said I was fucking sorry. I was an idot. You and Kirishima were right Emi is a two faced manipulative bitch and I let her use me." He growls out, stepping closer to you, "I'm fucking sorry and I'm fucking stupid. I.... I..."

"Don't you fucking say it." You growl and he growls louder.

"I fucking like you. I want to help you and I'm fucking sorry!" He grabs onto your hand, lacing his fingers with your own like he did during the haunted walk so long ago.

You yank your hand from his, your heart rate accelerating at a maddening rate as your rage organ begins to awaken.

Your wrist beeps but you push on.

"No!" You snap, "No! You don't get to suddenly like me or fucking confess."

You head butt him slightly before continuing, all the while your wrist beeps louder.

"I'm not some rebound bitch and this isn't the part where you get the girl. You've hurt me deeply. You made me go through shit I never wanted to do and somehow. I still... I still..." You're shaking and your wrist announces your new heart rate.

"130 beats per minute. Please disengage from the situation unless you are training."

"If it raises past 150 in my absence you're going back to isolation."

Aizawa's final warning before letting you out of that damn room echoes in your head.

"Leave." You try to count mentally again but your heart roars in your ears, "Just fucking leave Bakugou!"

You breathe deeply or attempt to anyway as your nails bite deep into the flesh of your thigh.

Borderline blacking out angry again before sinking to your knees in attempt to calm yourself.

"Y/N..." Bakugou sounds crestfallen, heart broken even.

Tough shit, he should have thought about that before.

It isn't fair that you're paying for his mistake.

It isn't fair that you've been locked up because he wouldn't listen.

And it isn't fucking fair that though all of that you still fucking like him.

"JUST LEAVE BAKUGOU." You gasp blood moons forming on your thighs. Bakugou watches with heavy scarlet eyes as he watches you tear yourself apart.

"145 beats per minute" Your wrist announces.

Bakugou fights the war that rages inside his head and his chest.

He loses as he sucks his teeth turning his back on you once more.

@sleepy-writer-mha

Here is the second one love!

[bangtanoneshotsx]

The Bet-Jungkook

“Buy yourself something nice. Because I don’t want this ring.” You sobbed, pulling the diamond ring off of your finger and tossing it at his feet. Your sobs coming out as gasps as you felt yourself double over. Jungkook’s eyes widened, his mouth open and closing as he tried to find the right words to say. You could see the moment his brain finally kicked into action. The moment he realised everything he feared was becoming a reality. All because of a mindless comment Taehyung had made. He would never forget the moment your heart shattered, your bottom lip trembling as tears quickly formed in your eyes. Eyes that were full of betrayal. You didn’t dare look at him as you ran out the room, hand muffling any high pitched sobs that escaped you. “I need you to listen to me.” Jungkook finally whimpers, his hand grasping yours tightly. You shook your head, trying to avoid eye contact with the youngest. “I can’t Jungkook. I won’t.” Your voice harsh despite your aching heart. Another broken whimper escapes Jungkook’s lips, tears rolling down his cheeks. He needed you to listen. He needed to explain. He needed anything to happen, anything expect you walking out that door. And that was the one thing he was afraid of happening. If he knew this would happen, he never would have said yes at the party. Never would have spoken to you, never would have broken your heart. But he did. He spoke to you, let you believe he was honest. And he was. He truly loved you, he let himself forget about the stupid bet that brought the two of you together. He let you become the one light in his life when everything else was rough. He let himself hold you, forgetting there was a limited time to this luxury. That eventually you would learn and you would be ripped away from him like everything else. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Jungkook watched as the two eldest downed their drink, both of their faces wincing at the slight burn of the alcohol. All six of them had dragged Jungkook along to a house party. Yoongi and Namjoon both knew him, reassuring Jungkook he was ‘cool.’ With an arm around Jungkook’s shoulders, Hoseok reassured him that he wouldn’t be left alone. However within five minutes of entering the loud house, Hoseok had ran off to a group of boys Jungkook didn’t know. The last time he checked, the rapper was talking to a girl, his hand on her waist. Taking a sip of his non-alcoholic drink, Jungkook’s eyebrows rose as he spotted Jimin enter the kitchen, new marks covering the base of his neck. “Don’t act so surprised Kook, it’s normal.” Jimin laughed, watching as Jungkook’s cheeks heated up. “You forget he’s never dated anyone. Probably couldn’t even ask someone out.” Yoongi spoke, knowing the youngest’s competitive edge would take over at that small hint of a challenge. “True. Probably end up a blushing, stammering mess.” Jimin agreed, pouring himself a drink. With his pride slightly hurt and his competitiveness taking over, the youngest stood up straight, slightly puffing out his chest. “I could ask a girl out.” He knew how lame that sounded, and honestly, all he wanted to do is go back home and lie under the covers, a video game playing on the tv. With his declaration in everyones mind, a bet was set. A simple harmless bet. Nothing would happen. He was debuting soon anyway. It would mean nothing. That was until he met you. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ He found himself at the park after a long dance practice. His clothes still wet from sweat, his hair sticking to his forehead. Mindlessly wandering, Jungkook could only let his mind race, every small mistake exaggerated. His frustration building, he decided to go to a more secluded area of the park. That is where he spotted you. You sat on a park bench, camera in hand as you took pictures of the small white dog that was running around in-front of you, his main target a blue ball. Your eyebrows furrowed in concentration, a small grin appearing as the small dog barked at the blue ball as it ran away from him. He wasn’t sure what made him start walking in your direction. Whether a small part of him remembered the bet, he didn’t know. In a move so uncharacteristic, Jungkook sat next to you on the bench, stretching his legs before the small dog came running up to him. His tail wagging and his tongue out as he greeted the stranger. “What’s his name?” Jungkook asked softly, keeping his attention of the white fluff ball. “Snowflake. Simple, I know, but my little brother named him.” Letting out a small laugh, Jungkook finally turned to look at you. You held tightly onto your camera that was now resting on your lap, your eyebrows slightly raised as you tried to figure out why he had decided to talk to you. Jungkook would never forget your first meeting. It was the first time out of many you had listened to his problems, let him rant without using his age against him. When he asked you out at the end of the night, a new contact number now in his phone, he forgot about the stupid bet. He didn’t rush home to tell his hyungs. He tried to keep you his secret for as long as possible. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Finding you just before a performance was a ritual Jungkook had never forgotten. It all traced back to his debut day. You stood in the corner of the dressing room as he talked to the camera that was too close to his face. His wide eyes full of excitement as the day he had been waiting for was finally happening. As soon as the woman holding the camera nodded, telling him his short interview was over, he made his way over to you. Placing a peck on his lips you giggled, clutching the bottom of his black top as you looked up at him, giggling. “You look cool Jungkook. Like a proper celebrity.” Jungkook grinned, his cheeks heating up. “What if something goes wrong?” He asked softly. “It won’t. You’ve worked hard for this. Now all you have to do is to promise that you’ll remember me when you’re taking over the world.” Scoffing, Jungkook pulled you closer, ignoring the cameras that could capture any moment between the two of you. Your comforting words easing his nerves. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Jungkook’s heart was racing as he held the ring box in his coat pocket. For the first time he was able to hold your hand in public. With the news of his relationship going public, it was time to do something he had promised himself he would do when your relationship didn’t have to be secret anymore. With one hand in his, the other holding the leash of the small Pomeranian Jungkook had bought your for your birthday last year, you let him take the lead. A small smile appeared on his face as he saw the familiar bench. Surrounded by trees, the leaves just changing colour, it almost seemed to mock Jungkook. Reminding him of the biggest moment in his life. As you directed both Jungkook and your dog to the bench, Jungkook’s breath came out shaky, his heartbeat increasing. Taking a seat, you instantly knew something was wrong as Jungkook didn’t place his arm around your shoulders. Instead he sat rigid, taking a breath before speaking. “Y/N.” His voice was quiet as he stood up, quickly finding himself on one knee. Pulling the box out of his pocket he revealed the diamond ring. A gasp could be heard from you, giggles soon escaping you as the small Pomeranian started to jump, trying to lick Jungkook’s face, not caring for the moment. “On this bench six years ago I met you, not knowing that you would change my life. Will you marry me?” Jungkook forgot the whole speech he had spent hours planning. Words fell from him before he realised what he was saying. Only stating the first sentence before quickly asking the question he just needed the answer to. Tears appearing at the brim of your eyes you nodded. “Of course.” You exclaimed, wrapping your arms around Jungkook’s neck as you placed your lips on his. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ You didn’t decide to keep your ring from the boys, it was just that they weren’t very observant. Jungkook held your hand under the table. A small smile playing on his lips as he eagerly waited for the right time to announce the news. As the table quietened, Jungkook squeezed your hand lightly, his signal that it was time to tell them. “We have something to say.” Jungkook spoke loudly, breaking the short silence in the private room BTS had hired. Looking briefly at you, his eyes softening, he cleared his throat. “We’re engaged.” Those two words seemed to hang in the air before the room burst into noise. Shouts of congratulations and shock filling the room. Namjoon who was next to Jungkook wrapped an arm around him, bringing him into a hug as he murmured something about growing up. A grin never left you or Jungkook’s faces as Jimin shouted something about congratulatory drinks, quickly ordering a bottle of champagne. You weren’t sure how long had passed but you were on a second bottle of champagne and quite a few of the boys had flushed faces, the alcohol taking it’s effects. Giggling, Taehyung declared another toast. Wobbly standing up, he gave a grin, shaking his head slightly as he tried to focus on forming words. “To the happy couple and the bet that took them here!” Over the shouts of the other five boys you noticed Jungkook freeze beside you. His clutch on the champagne glass tightening. Your eyebrows furrowed, you turned to him. “Bet? What bet?” Gulping, Jungkook looked at you, trying to place a reassuring smile on his lips though his heart was racing. “It doesn’t matter.” “It’s obviously something. What bet is he talking about?” Sighing, he cleared his throat before telling you he’d explain at home. However, that wasn’t good enough for you. And so Jungkook had to watch as your heart shattered in front of his bandmates. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ This lead you to this moment. Your heart breaking as you realised the last few years had been a lie. He never loved you, never wanted you. All he cared about was a stupid competition. Your heart now in shatters, the ring now on the floor, you couldn’t bare look at him. Couldn’t see the man you loved and thought loved you back. “All those years. Everything we went through. Did that mean nothing to you Jungkook. Did I mean anything to you?” Words seemed to fall from you. “You mean everything to me.” Was all Jungkook was able to say, his voice quiet as he tried to think of a way to rectify this situation. If only he could turn back time. “I don’t think I did.” You admitted with a sob. “I bet it was great when you went back into the dorm, celebrating your success. They must have cheered you on, made you feel like a man. It was only natural right? Natural to see how long you can string me along for. See how much I was willing to do for you.” Shaking his head, Jungkook opened his mouth to explain how wrong you were. It hadn’t been like that. It never was like that. “I don’t.. It wasn’t...” Was all he was able to stammer out, his brain still not functioning. Everything he wanted to say wasn’t coming out. Seeing his struggle you gave a sniffle, wiping the tears from your cheeks before straightening your posture, trying to seem stronger than how you were feeling. “I can’t do this Kook. I need to go.” With one last whisper of his nickname you were gone, along with his heart. It had been stupid teenage arrogance. A stupid little bet that had turned into something a lot more meaningful and bigger than anything Jungkook could handle. Teenage arrogance had cost Jungkook the one person he ever loved. 

[milomeepit]

Diamond In The Rough: Chapter Seventeen

Roman has always wanted better. Has always believed that there’s a better life, a better world, just out of reach. Just beyond the veil of shitty teachers who don’t care, angry classmates that scream insults and slurs at each other all day, and drug-hazed parents who are more concerned with their next hit than looking after their ten year old son.

When he runs away after a particularly bad night at home and finds a quiet little cafe/bookstore tucked away in a back alley of the city, the sweet couple who run the joint (an odd pair; a quiet, gloomy man with a wry sense of humour and a cynical gleam in his eye, and a bouncy man who smiles like sunshine and laughs like a storybook king) help show him that maybe- just maybe- he really can have the life he always dreamed of.

Masterpost (to be added soon!)

Word Count: 1814

Chapter Warnings: homophobia, transphobia, emotional abuse, abusive parents, violence, fake crying, real crying, yelling, cursing, lawyers, CPS, court, paperwork, tree branch used as a blunt weapon

Hours later, Emile and Logan had taken Roman outside to get some fresh air after lunch. He walked along the edge of a garden bed in the courtyard of the large building, his arms held out for balance.

The snow was a brilliant white, blanketing the trees and pathways that filled the courtyard. It felt good, like a fresh start. Roman hopped off the edge of the garden bed and made his way back across to where Emile and Logan sat, carefully stepping in the footprints already tracked through the snow, retracing someone else’s steps.

Logan glanced up as Roman approached them and raised an eyebrow. “What do you have there?” He asked, nodding towards him.

Roman shifted his grip on the prize he had found. “A stick,” He said simply, waving it through the air. It was a good stick, sturdy and smooth, and not too long. It fit nicely in his hand. He liked this stick. “I wanna keep it.”

“I’m not sure you’d be allowed to take that back inside,” Logan frowned.

Emile hummed. “Well, it’s not made of metal or anything, so the detectors wouldn’t pick it up. He could probably put it in his bag.” He winked at Roman, who beamed back at him.

Logan rolled his eyes fondly. “Alright, alright. But it’s on your head if he gets in trouble for it,” He agreed.

Roman giggled, practically bouncing up and down. “Thank you!” He threw his arms around Logan, who caught him and squeezed him gently before releasing him.

Emile laughed as he stood, rolling his neck to stretch it. “We should probably head back inside. Awfully chilly out here, don’t you think?” He suggested, rubbing his arms.

“That’s what you get for not wearing a proper winter coat,” Logan bumped his shoulder against Emile’s lightly and smirked. “Let’s go, then.”

Roman shoved the stick in his bag and followed them back into the building. The warm air hit his face and he let out a contented sigh. It definitely was more cozy in here, he thought. Even if there wasn’t pretty snow or cool sticks to be found.

“Can we go say hi to Patton and Virgil?” He asked as they stepped into the elevator to head back upstairs.

Emile and Logan exchanged a look, and Emile shrugged. Logan looked back down to him and nodded. “Of course. You and Emile wait in one of the interview rooms, and I’ll go find them.”

Roman took his hand and squeezed it. “Thanks, Logan.”

When they reached the hallway again, though, it was clear something was wrong. Patton was clinging to Virgil, his eyes red and puffy, and Virgil looked angrier than Roman had ever seen him. He ignored Emile’s exclamation as he dived out of the elevator, already making a beeline towards them.

“It’s okay, really,” Patton was saying. “It’s nothing to get all worked up about.”

“Like hell it isn’t! She doesn’t even make any sense!” Virgil growled. His arms were wrapped tightly around Patton in a protective embrace. “Seriously, she can’t have it both ways with that crap. Besides, I don’t care who she is, she upset you, and I’m not putting up with that!”

“Are you guys okay?” Roman asked, worried. “What happened?”

“Oh, it’s okay, sweetheart!” Patton reached out for him, and Roman met him halfway, practically throwing himself into the man’s arms. “Just... met somebody who wasn’t very nice, is all.”

Roman frowned. Whoever was upsetting Patton and Logan, he decided immediately that he very much wasn’t a fan of them. Not if they had Virgil looking like he was about to rip out someone’s throat, and Patton shaky and tearful.

“Roman, don’t run off like tha- what’s wrong?” Emile cut himself off, stopping a few feet from them and eyeing over the trio.

“So, we met Vivienne,” Virgil spat, venom dripping from his words.

Emile practically flinched at the name, and Roman stared at him. “Oh. I see. Is she...?” He gestured across the room, and Virgil nodded. “That is... unfortunate.” He clicked his tongue, staring down the hallway, and then sighed. “Heck, she’s coming over, hang on.”

Roman turned to watch Emile as he jogged up to a slim woman with straight dark hair. Her light orange blouse practically seemed to glow compared to the black material of her suit. Her face seemed set in a permanent scowl, and Roman shivered slightly. This was not a nice woman. She brushed Emile off and marched over to them.

Virgil stepped in front Patton, crossing his arms and staring at her evenly. Roman’s heart swelled with love at his protective nature.

“I see Duck still hasn’t come back from lunch,” She began as she adjusted her narrow glasses. “I’m assuming that means neither of you have your ID checks and documentation on you.”

“And I’m assuming you still don’t have an actual reason to see them, anyway.” Virgil snapped.

Vivienne glared at him. “As a lawyer working in these proceedings, I have every right to request information on those involved. Especially with such...” Her gaze flickered to Patton for a moment. “Risky individuals.”

“Risky?” Virgil’s voice jumped an octave. “What does that mean?”

“Well, there are several studies that have shown that many children under the guardianship of... non-standard parents have a higher rate of mental health issues, not to mention the whole... gender thing,” She responded primly.

Oh, wow, Roman hated her.

Emile looked like a deer in the headlights, and Roman couldn’t blame him. She seemed like a lot to have to talk to, let alone work with.

“Listen.” Virgil’s voice was low and heavy, like the air crackling right before a bolt of lightning during a storm, and Roman felt Patton shift away from him a little, his grip on Roman tightening. "You can either call us gay men and respect my husband's identity, or you can call us a cishet couple and stop whining about gays adopting kids. Make up your fucking mind."

Vivienne gaped for a moment, stunned but clearly furious. She started to reply, but Duck appeared seemingly out of thin air next to Virgil, smoothly inserting himself between them. “Please move away from my clients, Vivienne.” He requested.

“Absolutely not! This man just verbally abused me, I should call security-!”

“And they could very well call security for you harassing them over documentation when they have no obligation to even speak with you.” Duck interrupted. “I’ll be over to speak with you shortly.”

Vivienne sputtered, then turned on her heel and stalked away, fuming.

Emile was the first to break the silence between them. “Gosh, I can’t believe you just told her off,” He commented to Duck. “Or that she listened.”

“Yeah,” Duck replied, sounding a little dazed. He turned to Virgil, who was still standing stock-still, glaring after her. “I am... so sorry about her. She’s...” He trailed off, shaking his head.

“Yeah. She is.” Virgil huffed. “Somebody ought to kick her a-”

Patton reached out and put a hand on Virgil’s arm. “Darling,” He said, so softly even Roman could barely hear it.

Virgil paused and took a deep breath. He let it out in a rush, then bit his lip. “Does she have a leg to stand on? With... all that?” He asked Duck and Emile.

Emile practically bristled. “Most certainly not!” He exclaimed. “That sort of thing is... completely unacceptable. I’m shocked that she dared to say anything of that regard while in the building, let alone to your faces!”

Duck nodded. “We’ll make sure that gets followed up, but it’s hardly a point she can use in her favour for this case.”

Virgil sighed. “Okay, then. Okay.” He repeated. “This is... fine.”

Roman’s opinion of Vivienne didn’t raise any over the rest of the afternoon. She was a haughty, mean person, and he loathed the way she made Patton flinch whenever she walked past. This, of course, didn’t help how he felt when Emile told him that they needed to talk to his parents in one of the interview rooms.

“But why?” He whined, dragging his feet as Emile led him down the hallway.

“It’s just... we need to...” Emile just sighed. “I’m sorry, but I promise, this is all you’ll have to do with them today.”

Roman shuffled in and sat as far away from Mom and Dad and Vivienne as he could manage- which unfortunately, wasn’t very far in the small room. This room, at least, had couches instead of a table, so they were across the room rather than nose-to-nose with him. Emile sat next to him and nudged him encouragingly.

It was a boring conversation, mostly Mom crying- fake tears, he was pretty sure- and Dad making empty promises. They apologised and offered half-hearted explanations for their terrible behaviour. Roman sat silently, waiting for the pair of them to finish their song and dance before he responded.

“I don’t want anything to do with you two.” He said simply.

Mom made a sound like a kicked puppy, and Dad glared at him. For once, though, he didn’t feel scared. Not with Emile beside him and a bright future so close.

Vivienne, who stood next to the couch where Mom and Dad sat, rolled her eyes. “So, would you rather live with Mr and Mrs Sande-”

“Mr.”

“Excuse me?”

“Mr and Mr Sanders.” Roman got to his feet and crossed his arms. “Patton’s a man. You can’t change that.”

“I think you’ll find, actually, that she’s a female. That’s what’s on her birth certificate, so that would be her gender.” Vivienne looked down her nose at him.

“That’s not how that works. Patton was born a girl, because sometimes nature messes up and gives people the wrong parts.” Roman reached into his bag, digging around for Arwen. Vivienne sucked, and he really wanted to just cuddle Arwen and leave.

“It really is.” Her voice grated on his nerves, and he tried to stay calm.  He pushed his water bottle to the side, digging deeper into the bag. Calm for Emile. He moved his lunchbox, slipping his hand beneath it. Calm for Patton. Oh, hey, there was the stick again. Calm for Logan. Still no Arwen, though. Did he leave her in the car? “And her name is Pip-”

Everything burst into chaos.

Roman lunged forward without thinking about it, swinging the stick at Vivienne’s legs. She shrieked, trying to step back out of his reach. Mom screamed and grabbed on to Dad, who made a swipe to grab at Roman. Roman ducked away from him and suddenly found himself wrapped tightly in Emile’s arms. Emile plucked him off the ground and scurried out of the room, shouting an apology over his shoulder.

Roman stuck his tongue out at Vivienne as Emile carried him away. Stay calm for the others, he thought to himself. But be fierce for Virgil.