#how does it feel putting cock inside a bunch of wings
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karinasbaby · 10 months ago
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yang jungwon — sea salt.
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P. princess!reader x pirate!jungwon (17+) | W. unprotected sex, jungwon is mean asf in the beginning, petnames (doll, angel, baby,princess), mentions of maids & jake, cursing, hair pulling, mentions of proposals? teasing, cockwarming, both jungwon & reader r in love, scandalous behaviour ngl, breeding kink with jungwon, idk about the rest | WC. 2.3k | A,N. this one’s for @intromortal pls accept my pirate jungwon cuz i wrote this for u (the other jungwon variants should be worked on soon pls pray for that) everyone say thank u nia & hana for this :D !!
p.s this was b a r e l y proofread !!
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“did you hear that the princess got a new proposal?” the helper whispered quietly, right hand covering the side of her mouth cautiously from the guards standing around the halls. “when does she not?” the other helper besides her rolled her eyes at her friend’s words.
“i wonder how long it’ll be till his majesty chooses a husband for her.” she chuckled making the shorter one’s eyebrows furrow in dislike, “i don’t think he will, he still has a soft spot for our princess.” her eyes lowered to the marble floors beneath her feet in thought.
“isn’t this her eighth proposal though?” her hands held the baskets of fabrics closer to her hips, “ever since she turned of age her personality changed.” snickering, she quickened her pace to finally grace the knitting and tailoring wing of the castle, passing past the doors of your own sacred chambers.
“she has not! she’s just… conflicted over the proposals i assume.” the helper argued as she tried to match the steps of her friend’s, lowering her voice by a bunch when she walked past your gates.
where your head was stuffed against your satin pillows, one large veiny hand covering your mouth to silence your whimpers as your lover’s movements came to a stop once he heard the womens’ voices outside.
“eight proposals huh?” jungwon laughed right besides your ear, his grip loosening when their bickering became distant, he leaned down to press a searing kiss behind your ear, his sweaty body pressed against your warm one, tangled between your silk sheets. “when were you planning to tell me, angel?” his hot breath fanned your shoulders making you shiver beneath him.
“s-soon.. i was g-going to tell you soon.” you choked out, trying to ignore the leap in your heart as your secret was revealed, while also trying to ignore the fact that jungwon was buried to the hilt inside of you as he spoke to you almost casually.
“hmm… what are you gonna do?” he hummed, his hips gradually beginning to thrust back into you again, he moved back and forth, back and forth making the squelching sounds of your previous releases resonate in the chamber, your eyes almost rolled to the back of your head as you gasped at the feeling of his cock practically massaging your dripping walls that sucked him deeper and deeper in.
“you’re not gonna accept those, obviously.” he chuckled, speaking like it was the most clear decision to take, his hands tightened around you at the mere thought of you accepting said proposals, who dared to even think of having a chance with you in the first place?
sure your relationship would be controversial, probably flip the whole kingdom upside down at the news of the dear, beloved sweet princess whom everyone loved and adored dating a pirate.
the son of the most dangerous pirate at that.
it wasn’t like anyone from your own family knew, as the second anyone would find out about the remaining aroma of sea salt wafting around your room relating to a pirate and not a new fragrance you’ve been investing in, all hell would break loose.
and you weren’t putting your or jungwon’s life at risk like that. no matter how deep your love and desire for him ran through your veins, the louder the desperate calls of your heart for his presence became, you could never risk announcing your sweet love affair to the kingdom.
and though jungwon did not fit the typical or known standards for pirates at all, the mean demeanour, greedy mindset and rogue personality was a complete opposite of jungwon’s loving, intimidating and charismatic nature.
he was everything you prayed for, every tinge of detail that you hoped you’ll find in the princes and mayors that proposed to you.
he was protective, with his manly and dauntless personality, he drew you in to his life. carefully luring you into the trap of his love. the sweet souled princess that fell head over heels for a pirate that wouldn’t even think twice of risking the whole world for her.
and just as in love you were with jungwon, the same applied to him if not much more, the young pirate who had been eyeing you for years by now, couldn’t believe his luck when he finally realised you reciprocated his feelings which he believed were fruitless.
he knew that the second his calloused, rough fingers brushed against your own soft and delicate skin, he was yours and you were his.
“what do you think their reaction will be like if they knew their pretty, innocent princess was getting fucked by a pirate every night, hm?” he mocked, pushing his head closer to yours so he can lick a long, tantalising stripe around the shell of your ear, making you whimper as he began to roll his hips in delicious circular movements.
“getting bred by a pirate’s dick so well every night. fuck— wonder what they’ll think when i finally knock you up and everyone questions who the dad is.” cursing behind you, he slithered one hand between your connected bodies to toy with your swollen clit, the contact instantly making you shake under his buff form.
“what are you gonna say then, doll? gonna tell them about how you couldn’t help it? gonna tell them about how wet your pretty little cunt got for me?” he teased and mocked and taunted you making tears rush down your cheeks and drop one by one onto the sheets, your body felt like it was lit ablaze with his slow, demeaning thrusts that only made your climax build up quicker. your hands gripped around the thin expensive fabric that was coated in both of your sweat and shimmering arousal.
his hand then lowered to cup your dripping pussy making you mewl onto the blanket you pushed closer to your mouth to silence yourself, “gonna tell them about how this princess couldn’t handle me? sucking me in and milking me so well, isn’t she, angel girl?” chuckling next to you, his smile only widened at your sniffles. deciding to completely stop all of his thrusts and only focusing on your throbbing clit, his middle and ring finger moved in mouth watering circles while his cock twitched inside of your snug walls.
you gasped as he began to litter your shoulders and back in countless bites and kisses, altering between sucking your skin and licking against your neck as he relished in the way your legs shook under him the tighter the coil in your stomach became, “don’t even dare to cum without my permission.” he quickly warned in a whisper, “or else i’ll fuck you till the next morning.” suddenly, you heard the footsteps of a different maid echoing outside of your chambers, from the familiar whistle you recognised her as the head maid who always came to check on you.
especially during the early mornings.
you froze under jungwon’s hold, he quickly realised the second he noticed the approach of a bunch of footsteps and decide to chuckle, humming as he focused on the way your breathing became irregular in panic and your walls tightening around him in anxiety making him groan, a sound he proudly let out loud to echo in the room making you gasp quietly in shock, “j-jungwon—“ “what, baby?” he quickly cut you off, his smile widening the louder the sounds behind the door that hid your scandal became.
“jungwon! she’s coming h-here.” you whispered loudly, panic settling deeply into your veins at the thought of the head maid, an old woman who practically raised you, opening the door to the sight of the princess getting pounded into her royal mattress by a pirate. “wanna let her hear how loud your cunt gets for me then?” he let out a laugh after his own words, “jungwon—“ he didn’t allow you to finish your sentence that got cut off by a moan as he suddenly moved to rest atop his knees.
holding you tightly by your hips, he began to piston his dick inside of your sopping wet walls, you bit your own sheets to silence your moans from resonating inside the room, the only way your body was showing the amount of pleasure jungwon was forcing into it was by the tears that aligned your waterline, your shaking legs and the mixed wetness of your and jungwon’s release dripping down your entrance before getting pushed back inside of you when he thrusted back in.
“let them hear how wet your pretty pussy gets for me, doll.” he groaned, his hand reaching forward to grip tightly around your hair, the burn in your scalp making you whimper beneath him as he ordered you to listen. “listen to how bad your cunt wants me, baby.” his hand quickly moved to cover your mouth when your whimpers got louder, and comedically enough. he made you listen to the nasty squelching noises of his thrusts and your soaked pussy right when the knocks of the head maid against your door echoed in the room, “so greedy for me, right?”
you gasped in fear while jungwon just kept quickening his pace, making the sounds of sex curtain over the knocks at your door which came to a halt. the maid inevitably hearing the questionable noises echoing from the princess’ chambers, “f-fuck— jungwon please, we c-can’t-“ “can’t what, doll? can’t let them know that you’re about to get filled up with pirate cum, hm?” he teased, cooing once your tears from overstimulation and the pleasure raked over his hand that moved to caress your jaw gently.
he softly pulled your head back, making you turn to face him and allow him to see your reddened eyes and rosy cheeks, he pouted mockingly before quickly pecking your swollen lips, “don’t worry, baby. nothing’s gonna happen.” his soothing words were quickly forgotten when the head maid called out for you from behind the doors, “your highness, is everything alright?” her concerned voice made your sobs get muffled by jungwon’s continuous kisses.
“jungwon, please—“ “shhh doll, don’t worry. listen to me. everything’s gonna be okay, you trust me don’t you?” he reassured you, his voice turning gentler and softer as he began to ghost his fingers around your neck, “listen to me like the good girl that i know you are.” he smiled at you through his sweaty darkened locks and flushed face, his cat-like eyes blazing with adoration and lust for you when you nodded at his words, he continued thrusting inside of you, making sure to press his swollen tip for longer periods right against your warm cervix just to feel your breath get caught around his fingertips.
“now cum for me, angel girl.” he ordered while pressing a sweet kiss against your jaw, relishing in the way your weakened body instantly responded to his words by tightening and gushing around his dick, he growled quietly next to your ear while your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he continued fucking himself deeply into you.
with your intense release, you felt him reaching deeper and deeper inside of you the longer he kept fucking you through your orgasm, your broken whispers of his name caught his attention from the twisting handle of the doors to your rooms, that’s when he finally heard the long-awaited “madam! the princess is still resting. she asked me to delay her morning bath for until she wakes up and asks for you.” jake, the royal guard huffed breathlessly after rushing countless, gigantic royal corridors to reach and stop the head maid from entering your room.
where he knew jungwon was practically balls deep inside of you right now.
jungwon sighed heavily, finally losing himself in the feeling of your warm cunt engulfing his pulsing length perfectly, with the aftershocks of your orgasm finally subsiding allowing you to rest and relax against the sheets, jungwon lowered himself to litter multiple kisses around your jaw and the back of your neck while you regulated your breathing.
with him still so deep inside of you, he returned his hands to your hips and began to chase his own high, finding the way you mewled in overstimulation under him so endearing. “just a bit more, princess. you can take a bit more for me can’t you?” he questioned, his breathing heavy as he felt the neediness and arousal rushing through his veins for his much needed climax, he smiled in pride when you nodded with your eyes closed against the pillows, tightening around him purposefully to hear his sharp groans and to push him further towards the edge.
“taking me in so good. such a perfect princess for me.” he threw his head back, sweat droplets rolling one by one down his chiseled abdomen and buff form between his unbuttoned white, pirate shirt. his thighs flexed as he tasted his orgasm right on the tip of his tongue, the intense sensation making him close his eyes while he thrusted against your hips that began to bounce back on him.
“fuuuccck just like that, doll.” he praised, his words making you whimper against the pillows in pure exhaustion and overstimulation, you pushed against him just a few more times before his hands stilled your hips as he buried himself deep inside of you, emptying his load and painting your warm walls white completely. you both groaned at the fulfilling sensation before jungwon finally plopped down right next to you on your royal bed.
he quickly pulled you inside of his arms, noticing the way your eyes became droopy in slumber, you lifted your leg against his hips, making him smile lovingly at the silent ask, he gently pushed his sensitive length back inside of your drenched cunt, “the princess wants me inside of her so she can sleep again?” he asked, even with your eyes closed you could hear the smile in his voice. you nodded your head as he pulled you closer towards him, allowing you to feel him as deep and as close to you as possible. just the way he knew you needed.
“sleep well my princess.” with that final fatigued whisper from jungwon, you fell asleep in his embrace with no worries about the eight proposals, the head maid or the way you were going to have to word your next rejection.
while jungwon only wondered about where the fuck jake took the head maid.
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a,note. i hope this did not disappoint any jungwon girlies 🤞 & to hana i know this wasn’t our original idea for pirate jungwon, i might have to make a diff post for the one we came up with cuz i love that one too ! thank u for reading :] !
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waterwizardcat · 2 years ago
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more biblically accurate vash
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mooshs-crack-headcanons · 4 years ago
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Hi! Can you write NSFW headcanons with twins and maybe Nero about SDT/DT sex with human s/o (for Vergil it can be + his doppel, why not...)
(...maybe indulged into Vergil's part just a liiiiiiiittle bit, just a little)
(NSFW under the cut!)
Dante
Like I said in this post, Dante is most definitely down for it and that devil trigger sex is going to need a lot of prep, especially with a human. 
But after that very, very, very leg shaking prep and it gets down to the main event there is still going to be some struggle and there's no way around it but it's going to hurt. But Dante is all about making sure your comfortable all the way through so expect to be lying comfortably on your back cushioned with every pillow Dante could find in the shop as you have your legs spread and wrapped around his scaly hips as his devil form looms over top you, his large cock unsheathed and rubbing against your wet entrance. 
Once it's inside you, expect a very bumpy ride. Each thrust in you slams through your whole body and Dante's clawed hands find their way into yours. 
In this state, Dante's more likely to show more of his demonic, almost animalistic, behavior. Instead of moaning deep growls come from deep down in his chest, instead of the loving nibbles and licks he would normally give in your nights of pleasurable passion are brash licks from his barbed tongue and deep bites that if Dante wasn't in control would've drawn more than just blood. 
Reach back and grab and tug on his horns as he slams you from behind and he will completely lose function of all words.
Every dirty word he has to say to you, how tight you are, how needy you are for his cock, how much he's going to fill you, ect, all has that distortion to it and it just adds a little extra spice to it all. 
Dante HAS to be in control when he fucks you like this, but it really is hard when he sits back and watches how you struggle to even bounce in his lap with how much he fills you, he always has to keep focus on the same in control mindset or else he'll lose it and he's...really afraid with how he might hurt you with it. 
Like this, with his claws, it's kind of hard to rub and touch at your sex. One wrong move and...ow, again he doesn't want to hurt you, so he tries his best not to touch you down there, the lowest he'll go being at your inner thigh. 
When he comes, he comes hard and he comes a fucking ton load. It won't stop pouring out of you for about a good five minutes at least, once his balls are completely empty this will be the moment Dante fazes back to his human form and collapses on you. 
He doesn't fall asleep right away, it's a rule he's always had to make sure that you're doing okay and if you need anything, but it's not long before he conks out after at least giving you a bunch of kisses. 
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Vergil 
So Vergil is...well Vergil so getting him to try anything new in the bedroom is going to take quite some hard relentless convincing, so convincing him to use DT in bed is going to take QUITE some work, but not overall impossible. Truth be told, Vergil never used his trigger for anything besides fighting so deep down...the thought never once came across his head (that also Vergil doesn't have that much experience in the sack anyway? You know with being trapped and corrupted in hell ever since he was nineteen and all?) But once you somehow convince him, like with Dante of course there's going to have to be a bunch of prep first. 
With his human form he'll get you ready, with his hands holding your calves back to spread you open as he buries his tongue deep in you to get you nice and prepared to handle him. 
Once he finally gets into DT he doesn't enter you immediately, with his clawed hands he'll clutch at yours as he'll rut his demon cock against you where you can feel the light prickles that go up his shaft (they don't hurt that much at all really) against your skin until you're practically sobbing for him to put it in. 
His thrusts in you are hard and deep, going the absolute deepest that you never knew possible. He has you on your back and still has your hands tightly clasped in his claws all the while he proves why he holds the dirtiest talker of all the Sparda's in your ear, which in the distorted voice of his demon form just fucking 😤👌. 
Grab at his wings and you'll immediately find yourself with him pressing your face into the mattress and going fucking feral from behind.
As you struggle to ride him, you'll feel his tail wrap around your waist and pick you up only to drop you down even harder than before. This is really great when you get so lost in your pleasure that you're not able to even move and Vergil just fucks your tired body like this. 
Like Dante, he always has to keep himself in 100% control because he absolutely doesn't want to harm you or even worse...which knowing him I don't think he'd be able to handle well. But the moment his control loosens just enough for him to pop doppelganger he's not even aware he's done it, he just keeps fucking deep into you and you're the one who physically makes him take notice of it chilling in your room. 
Again with Vergil being Vergil lot of convincing it takes to make him try new things, however when his cock is so deep inside of you and he's about so close to busting so deep inside you again it doesn't take that much to convince him to let the doppelganger join in. 
The doppelganger might be spectral, but it feels 100% how SDT Vergil does, so its cock feels just the same as its hips snap deep into you and it holds your body up by your legs, holding you with your back to it and spread open so that Vergil can make use of his barbed tongue to your sex and his hands push you down and up on your thighs as you bounce on the doppelganger's cock. 
Vergil gets progressively louder and louder with each round, so the time he's reached his limit the whole fucking side of town knows it with how fucking loud he's roaring (f's in the comments for Dante whose across the hall) He has you on your back your nails clawing desperately onto his wings for some sort of hold and this point your voice is completely gone and all that's coming from you is noises that might resemble words all telling him to go harder and faster (fucking somehow) The Doppelganger has fazed out from exhaustion at this point and the only point that Vergil focus on is getting both of you to your end. When your ends do finally hit, boy do they hit hard. 
Seconds after Vergil floods inside you does he collapse. The two of you lay there covered in your own filth from all your previous rounds and after a few breaths does Vergil recollect himself. His hair is in a mess, it has fallen down and sticking to his forehead, his eyelids barely staying open to look at you with pupils dilated, and a very smug smirk on his face that he can barely hold. 
Because aftercare is always important, after completely recollecting himself will he go get a clean rag to wipe as much come off you as he can (there's a fucking shitload of it though to a point where it's ridiculous) and gets you a glass of water to drink before making his spot next to you with you safely tucked in his arms before eventually succumbing to sleep. 
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Nero 
Unlike Dante and his father, Nero hasn't had a devil trigger for very long (no his fucking stand in 4 doesn't count) so he still doesn't know how to completely use it to it's 100% capabilities. So of course with that being said, he never even once thought about sex with DT, his exact thought being that he didn't even know he had a dick with his trigger and imagine his surprise to see it unsheath out of him one day by accident. 
I think that's you're going to have to be the one to bring it up. Though after accidentally discovering that his triggered form does in fact have a (ridiculously large) dick, Nero definitely thinks about what it'd be like to fuck you with it (that being his fuel for a lot of jerk sessions when he's alone in the van) but of course Nero's not the best with...communicating feelings so even if he tried to suggest it he wouldn't be able to get the words out to even tell you, though that being said when you straight out tell him blunty that you want to ride his demon cock after chowing down a whole plate of pasta out of no where gets that same reaction from him too. Oh and it gets him very, very hard. 
After the required prep, it's a little bit awkward when the first time the two of you attempt it, even if you've done it normally countless times before. His body is just way too big in this form that he can't find the right position to place himself to where he's comfortable on the small bed in your shared room in Kyrie's apartment and also has the same problem with his wings, the hands still placed on his shoulders but the rest is still...in the way. That being said the first good thirty minutes are just finding a position like this that's comfortable with the both of you. (About half way through you just suggested fucking on the floor instead but Nero refused because he won't stand you being uncomfortable because he's fucking sweet like that)
When he finally enters you, Nero feels slightly overwhelmed. The sensation he gets in DT is a hundred times stronger than being inside of you normally that he almost bottoms out immediately inside you. After he collects himself does he slowly start to rock into you, hitting that sweet spot nice and hard going deeper than he's ever been before his eyes rolling back with each thrust. 
Safe to say things get wild very fast with clawed hands raking down your sides and his distorted voice begging for you to squeeze even tighter around him. You eventually find yourself laid flat out on your stomach as his winged hands hold your wrists together in front of you as his clawed hands grip tightly onto your hips and bouncing back onto his cock. 
Pull at that long hair of his and Nero will instantly find a new kink. 
Tell him he's a good boy as he wraps one of your legs on his shoulders and fucks you from the side and he'll have to physically restrain himself from coming on the spot. Nero has a big fucking praise kink and those two words are fucking mind switch to bring him to mindlessly blabber: "I'm a good boy," over and over like a mantra in the DT signature distortion which is icing on the cake before he comes like a geyser in you. 
Like his father he gets extremely loud once he's near the edge and he doesn't even realize it when he's doing it (once he realizes it the next morning he isn't able to look at Kyrie in the eyes for months) 
As he loudly gets to his final climax he's dip his forehead to yours, long white hair clinging to your skin in the process, to try to keep him from not being able to look Kyrie in the eyes ever again muffle out the roared shout by smothering his lips to yours as your lower half gets flooded with his come. 
Nero doesn't have the stamina to keep himself awake the second after he comes down from his high. With blue light his demon form fades away, the long white hair clinging to your sweaty skin fades away and turns into his short silver hair. His sleeping face looks so dumb with how pleased it looks even with a dumb little grin on his lips.
I hope you don't need anything because the man sleeps like a fucking brick and is tough to push off you. It's better to just take him all in and wrap your arms around his waist and conk out with him. 
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burntmcnuggies · 5 years ago
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Effectively Trained (1/2)
Yandere! Hawks x Reader
Warning: this story contains non-consensual touching, forced sex, mentions of serious harm and abuse, kidnapping, and excessive use of strong language! 18+ only please <3
Part Two
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“He does things his own way and has climbed the ranks with lightening fast speed! In the number two spot! Winged Hero: Hawks!”
The crowd erupted in applause as the red suites hero approached the stage to stand beside his fellow heroes. The smell of delicious food, and expensive champagne filled the sensitive mans nose. As for having a bird-like quirk, the blonde had a very keen sense of smell and sight. The only thing he was focused on at the moment was the young woman sitting by herself at the table reserved for him and the other top three heroes. Her skinny arms were raised in a small quiet clap to appraise him. He smirked to himself and put his hands behind his neck, flaunting his vibrant red wings out to make himself stand out. It was impossible to miss his presence due to his powerful quirk. The announcer finished introducing the top 5 heroes supporting the charity event Hawks was currently at. Once the heroes were dismissed, he rose to the air and made a straight B-line for the woman at the table.
“Hey dove.” He called out to her, making the beautiful young woman flinch harshly and jerk around to greet him. He landed softly in front of her while people stared in awe at his large wings and glowing aura. This was the popularity of one of the top 3 heroes. He opened his arms, initiating a hug, but before he even got his arms up, she was already in his arms hugging him. His honey-colored eyes glistened and glowed with an unknown emotion. His strong arms wrapped around her, his hot breath ghosting over her ear. “Good girl. I’m proud of you.” His husky voice was suggestive and poisoned with lust. The girl in his arms shook slightly, slowly nodded her head in acknowledgment to his words. When he pulled away, his pupils constricted once he laid eyes upon a couple people staring. “Let’s go somewhere more private. So I can reward you properly.”
His voice was no longer warm and goofy. It was cold and harsh, demanding the woman in his arms to come with him immediately. She clung to his order and quickly latched onto his arm. His pupils dilated back to their normal size and he grinned cheekily walking through the crowd. “Leaving already Hawks? It’s barely just begun.” The number two hero stopped in his tracks hearing the voice of the man he admired every since he saved him. He turned his head around, the diamond studs in his ears sparkling under the bright lights. “Ah, Endeavor!” Hawks turned around and moved his hand down to tightly hold the mysterious woman by the waist. She kept her head down in Endeavors presence. The Flame hero was a clever man, and immediately, he could tell there was something odd about their relationship. “Oh! Endeavor! I’d like to introduce you to my beautiful dove, (Y/N).”
It was quick, but the woman’s head jerked up quickly, and her panicked (E/C) eyes could’ve been perceived as embarrassment, but Endeavor could clearly tell it was not that. It was fear. ‘There’s something off about her. Is it me?’ “I-It’s nice to meet you... M-Mr. Todoroki. H-Hawks is a huge fan. I-I really admire your work too... you’re a v-very respectable hero...” The red-haired man came to the conclusion that she was just shy. He couldn’t have been more wrong. Hawks carelessly flopped his arm around his lovers shoulder, tightly squeezing it with all the force he could. The woman now known as (Y/N) flinched feeling his tight grip. “I-I’m sorry! Please excuse me! I’m going to get some drinks! I-I’ll bring you some Hawks!” In the blink of an eye she was gone through the crowd, rushing towards the refreshment table. A sharp barbed feather glided across the floor unseen and jabbed into the frightened girls leg. Luckily, her dress covered it and her hair was down to cover up the frightened and pained face she was making.
“A good one isn’t she? Sorry about that! She’s a bit shy! She only likes me! That’s why we’re trynna leave so soon! I thought I’d make an appearance and earn some money for whatever this is for and head home!” Hawks boasted and flexed his wings a bit, showing off his alpha-like nature. Endeavor hummed in suspicion, looking for the girl to come back. This didn’t help the growing possessiveness inside the number two hero. His wings fluffed up wildly and his pupils contricted sharply in a threatening manner. He could feel the warm blood running down his unattached barbed feather, making his legs quiver. What a lovely feeling. “What’s with the look man? Don’t think I can land such a hottie? I’ll have you know I’ve been with plenty of smokin’ chicks. And not chickens!” His fake cheerful laugh interrupted Endeavor’s thoughts. He scowled a bit. “How exactly did you two meet? I’ve never seen her with you at one of these things.”
“We’ve been dating for about a year now. We met at my agency actually. She was looking for a job. Later I courted her and told her I would work and she wouldn’t ever have to raise a hand in the work force again!” Endeavor narrowed his eyes. ‘There’s no way anyone would willingly want to stay cooped up inside a house the whole time... he’s hiding something. It’s unlike him to be so defensive.’ Just in time, (Y/N) returned and handed Hawks his drink, lowering her head once again, refusing to make eye contact with either of them. Endeavor huffed and offered his hand out for her to take, a test of some sorts. “Hello, it’s nice to meet you.” The girl refused to take his hand. She kept her head lowered and clung herself to Hawks. Usually, Hawks would just laugh and make a joke for her not to be scared, but Endeavor was surprised to see Hawks holding her tightly and looking at her blankly. ‘Something’s off.’
“We’re going to head home then.” Hawks spoke suddenly, rubbing his lovers back with a small sincere smile. He downed the expensive champagne and set it on a random table. He kissed her head and moved his wings to block her from anyone else’s view. A crimson feather came from the floor and reattached to his large set of feathered wings. Unnoticed by everyone. “I don’t want to make my beautiful angel uncomfortable. See ya later Endeavor! Let’s go out sometime for some Yakitori soon! Okay?” He ushered her quickly away from the scene where the number one hero just stood there. He watched them go, his gut demanding him to follow them, that something was off, that something sinister was right in front of him. It couldn’t possibly be Hawks.
‘I’m probably just imagining things. But next time we meet, I’ll definitely get to the bottom of whatever is going on.’
——
*Click*
.
.
.
“I’m proud of you, dove. You did so well tonight.” Hawks praised his lover once they reached the security of his top level pent house suite. His eyes seemed to glow in the dim light cascading over the room from the moon. His hands twitched in anticipation seeing his beautiful angel standing before him, now completely undressed, patiently waiting for his orders. “I would like to reward you, buuuuut you got a bit too talkitive with Endeavor back there... guess I gotta punish you just a little.” It was quick, but the winged hero harshly pushed against the back of her knees and made her kneel harshly in front of him. His ungloved hand made contact with her hair, entangling his rough fingers within and yanking upwards harshly, forcing the terrified girl to look at him. “You should only say stuff like that to me. ME. Got it?”
She nodded frantically, tears building within her large (E/C) eyes. Flurries of apologies burst through her lips and onto his deaf ears. He thought actions spoke louder than words. Her next actions would determine if the punishment needed to go further or not. Over the past year, it had been his goal to break her mind into being his obedient little pet. He had taken her out to his office only a couple times, but when she ran and pleaded for help from one of his sidekicks, his “training” became more intense. The pain became too much for her malnourished and fragile body to handle. Her mind slowly began to crack. “You know I don’t accept apologies that way my beautiful dove. Use that mouth for something else other than talking.” She knew what he was implying, and hastily began to unbuckle his belt.
His training paid off. He was in complete and total control over this woman. HIS woman. His lips spread into a sadistic grin and he let out a throaty chuckle, sighing in pure amazement at how well he had done. “Look at you, desperately wanting to suck my cock for my forgiveness. I’ve trained you quite well haven’t I angel?” He pulled back a little bit to plop on the couch, watching with lustful eyes as the woman of his dreams quickly followed after him on her knees and got between his legs. She nodded anxiously and fearfully, worried that if she took too long to respond, he would go through another “training” session with her. “Hmm... hey... remind me again what I did last time to make you mind so easily. I tried out a bunch of different methods than last time. I just wanna know... what works best for you angel.”
He reached down and grabbed her hands to stop her from continuing, waiting for her answer to his question. He already knew the answer, he was only testing to see if she remembered what punishment he gave her last time she went against the rules. “You uhm...” She stuttered, trying her hardest to remember the punishment she was given last time. Over the year, he had given her hundreds of punishments, and over 50 “training” sessions. There was a large difference between Hawks’ punishments and training sessions. Punishments would only last a little while, maybe a few hours. But training sessions lasted days, even weeks. She had to remember all of the rules he had set in place for her, or else she would be punished and go through the same session again and again until she never forgot.
Rule 1. Always love Hawks
Rule 2. Always support Hawks
Rule 3. Hawks is your favorite hero
Rule 4. Always listen to Hawks
Rule 5. Hawks loves you
Rule 6. Hawks will always protect you
Rule 7. No talking back to Hawks
Rule 8. Don’t look at anyone besides Hawks
Rule 9. Hawks knows what’s best for you
Rule 10. Don’t think of anyone besides Hawks
Rule 11. Don’t talk to anyone besides Hawks
Rule 12. Always comfort Hawks
Rule 13. No make up
Rule 14. Don’t smile at anyone besides Hawks
Rule 15. Only leave the house WITH Hawks
Rule 16. Tell Hawks “I love you” every day
Rule 17. Call Hawks if someone touches you.
And the list went on, and on, and on, and on. The rules were hammered into her brain for days. Morning time, Hawks would take his feathers and penetrate the skin on her back, making her repeat the rules every time a feather pierced her now scarred skin. Then make her repeat it again when he pulled them out. While she was home alone, he tasked her with writing down the rule over 100 times to make sure she got it. Then we he came home, he would review her work, demand her to tell him the rule, and depending on that, he may let her eat and sleep. Everyone looked at Hawks as the friendly, carefree, boisterous, and fun pro-hero. However, (Y/N) knew the dark side of him. The possessive side of him that refused to let her go, let her speak to anyone else but him, anything really. Everything had to be him.
She snapped out of her gruesome thoughts of her last training session and shakily looked back up to see Hawks patiently waiting for her answer. “You... p-put your feather... through m-my tongue... b-because I s-said... I felt b-bad for... B-Best J-Jeanist...” He nodded and scratched the stubble on his chin. His lower lip stuck out and he smirked. “Ah! Now I remember perfectly... the taste of your blood when I kissed you felt so good. Should I do it again? I’m feeling pretty punishy today.” (Y/N)‘s face drained color immediately and she hastily began to unbuckle Hawks’s belt, hopeful he would forgive her.
Rule 41. Blow Jobs for forgiveness.
“Looks like I burned that rule right into that pretty head of yours huh? They always say I’m too fast for my own good... what do you think dove?” His sinister yet carefree grin unnerved her and she shivered harshly under his gaze. She didn’t know how to respond. After being with him for a year, she was still wary of his mood swings. He could be so friendly and nonchalant the first minute and the next he’s cruel and cold. What answer was best? “I.... I think you’re perfect just the way you are Hawks... fast or not... y-you are... perfect.” That was a good answer. She inwardly applauded herself for coming up with such a great answer. Hopefully he would punish her less right? “Perfect huh? You always know how to make my heart flutter don’t cha dove? But I’m not letting you off that easily.”
Her body stiffened.
“Don’t think I haven’t noticed the way you behave around me. It’s quite suspicious. Even Endeavor back there was gettin’ a little too curious about our relationship.” Her hands halted, his pants now loosely hanging from his hips, his arousal clearly evident by the bulge in his grey boxers and the slight stain from his sticky pre-cum. She regretted the moment she looked up to look into his golden eyes. His pupils were slit, and he wore a grin, a crazily sinister glint within those once warm eyes. “It’s startin’ to piss me off a bit ya know? It hurts my feelings my baby bird isn’t being honest with me. After everything I’ve done?” He laughed and spread his large wings out, towering over her and blocking her only heavenly source of light. Her gaze was locked on the only thing she could see.
Those horrific glimmering eyes of his.
“No I want you to be honest and tell me everything you’re feeling right now.” Suddenly, a hand forced its way onto her throat. The unexpected movement knocked the breath from her lungs, and the restricted force placed around her windpipe only made it harder. Her mouth shakily began to open, but closed immediately, fresh hot and salty tears already beginning to stream down her already dampened cheeks. “What? Don’t wanna be honest with me baby? I thought you would’ve remembered that rule...” He pouted in disapproval. In a sudden flurry of panic and fear, she pushed his hand away, stunning him into silence as she recited the rule. “Rule 21! Always be honest! Rule 6! Hawks will always protect me! A-And rule 5! Hawks will always love me! Rule 27! Everything Hawks does is for me! And I’m always grateful! Rule-“
“Woah there tiger! Didn’t need ya to tell me every little thing. But I’m glad you remember so much. I’m honestly impressed.” His wings retreated against his back, and he raised his bare hands up to softly pet her hair. His precious dove lowered her head slowly, accepting his praise silently. “But you still aren’t being honest with me. I want you to tell me how scared I make you. How you’re so scared about what I might do that you’ll never leave. That you’ll always be beside me!” His voice was getting desperate, and the way his ash blonde eyebrows furrowed showed her his frustration was seeping through. She shakily exhaled, heart pounding harshly against her chest. “I... u-understand... your want to k-keep me here... you’re... l-lonely... and mentally exhausted... I... love you Keigo... I just... don’t... like how... you hurt me... that... terrifies me.”
His pupils shrunk hearing his first name come from her lips. He searched deeply for any lingering signs of dishonesty, but found none. What she said was genuine. She was scared of being hurt by him, but knew deep down how fucked up his life had been despite being such a popular hero. Having to play double agent, keep up two different personas and stress about not getting found out by the other organization. “...Rule 5.” He said sternly. His voice was cold and void of emotion, which was strange and unnatural for the usually bubbly winged-hero. Blonde bangs covered his honey colored eyes, hiding the truth from her. (Y/N) flinched and quickly recited the rule. “Rule 5... H-Hawks will always love me.” A smirk stretched across his face, and he raised his head up, his eyes shimmering with possessiveness and greed. A red glint shined within those bird-like eyes, and he grabbed her hands, placing them on his hips again. “Please me. Pleasure the fuck out of me dove. Do good... and I might let you go out tomorrow —with a feather of course.”
All of a sudden her mood lifted, and she smiled widely at his proposal. “R-Really? Y-You mean it Keigo...?” He gave her a lopsided grin and nodded his head confidently. His wings spread while he laid back against the sofa, comfortably adjusting himself so he could get a perfect view of his little lover. His avian eyes watched carefully as her delicate hands moved over his pants, pulling them down just a bit. The large H on his belt hung loosely to the side, making the belt a bit heavy. Hawks deployed his feathers to make his wings smaller and slipped his jacket off, only being left in his tight fitting shirt with gold accent lines and a diamond. His wings came back to life quickly, slightly fluttered as he got them reattached. “Your... wings are very... large and b-beautiful.”
“They’re all for you baby bird.” He commented flirtatiously. His eyelashes were exceptionally long, and those dark markings near his eyes made his eyes only pop and glow in the moonlight. His large wings created long and intimidating shadows, shaking up his forced lover. She shook her head quickly and focused her attention back on the task at hand. Her cool fingers slid across the fabric of his boxers, a heavy blush settling on her face. She leaned closer to his hips, her (H/C) hair falling to rest against the top of his clothed thighs. (E/C) eyes looking up innocently to see what reaction his smooth face held. He was watching intently, his stern eyes demanding her to continue. Her throat bobbed slowly and she gently pulled down his boxers, clenching his loose pants in embarrassment watching his arousal slap against his abdomen.
“Ahh... come on baby, don’t tease me like this. Hurry up and swallow my worm birdie.” He cooed, throwing a very gross sounding bird pun in. A shiver crawls up her spine sharply, her brain finally taking back control of her fingers. The smooth skin of her fingers folded over his steamy cock, running along the vien on his underside. In the background she saw his bare hands clenching the cushions of the couch tightly, his forearm stiff. He was restraining himself, and clearly it wasn’t working too well if he had to go through all that. “Stop. Fucking teasing me.” He ordered in a raspy hoarse voice, struggling to even get a sentence out. His cock twitched in her smooth hands, aching and throbbing, begging to be touched and engulfed by something warm and tight.
(Y/N) closed her eyes and leaned forwards, pressing her lips gently against the head, before her tongue slid over the vein and she took him into her mouth. “Hah... fuck, deeper.” The hand previously on the couch came to tangle into her once beautifully curled hair. His reluctant lover flinched and squeezed her eyes shut tighter, letting his hand guide her. His nails dug into her scalp, some of her hair being pulled out by the roots at his strong grip. There was a very arousing wet sound bursting into both their ears from the activity both adults engaged in. The pro hero had his head on the back cushions, panting heavily with his wings tightly folded against his back occasionally twitching and shivering. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. Yeah... just like that dove. Hah fuck, your mouth is so damn amazing! Haha! You can take me all in can’t ya? Argh... only one way to find out right?”
The girls eyes widened in horror and the hero slammed his impressive length down her throat, his strong hands pushing on her head as hard as he could. “Ugh! I feel yer teeth! Open that beautiful mouth wider for me dove!” Her mouth was at its limit. Her jaw was aching, her throat being stretched, her nose buried within the curly mess of musky smelling hair near his V-line. Her eyes burned with tears, head throbbing, pussy dripping with fluids, her lungs clawing at any ounce of oxygen they could find. She was incredibly lucky she got over her gag reflex early on into their “relationship.” He jerked her head back, her nostrils stretching to catch even a small amount of air to satisfy her lungs, only to be slammed back down repeatedly. “Didn’t- Ngh!- know you could go this deep! Fuck! Haha, you’re gonna make me c-cum soon~”
His calloused hands from years of hard work shoved her head back and forth wildly, refusing to stop his relentless face-fucking. His movements increased, and his panting and moaning had only gotten louder. “Ahh~ hah! Yeah baby! Come on!” He sucked in a breath through clenched teeth and growled out lustfully. His husky voice shamefully making his baby bird’s love parts ooze with arousal. His keen nose could smell it from a mile away. Suddenly a soft feather came under the woman on her knees, harshly rubbing against her sensitive clit. Two more came to push against her nipples with the softer part of the feathers. “That’s it b-baby! Ahh yeah you dirty little slut~ getting wet while sucking me off~ haha! Agh... yeah... lemme know when you’re close, I-I wanna cum in that pretty pink damn pussy. And it’s all mine. Ohh... it’s all mine.”
His low husky growls only made the sensations better. (Y/N) was now struggling to maintain the fast pace he forced on her. The adrenaline pumping through her veins with the only thought in her mind was not getting hurt, she pushed through. “Haha! Ohh~ you’re mine. Fucking mine...” He growled through grit teeth, his avian eyes glued to the sight of his cock disappearing into the mouth of the woman of his dreams. His eyes traveled just a bit south and caught a glimpse of his soft red feathers harshly grinding against her nipples, making her squirm in discomfort and desperation. “Nghh~ haha! Fuck! Fuck baby bird~ my cute dove~ my god damn angel... I’m gonna fucking cum. Hurry, hurry get on the couch.”
In a flash he shoved her head back, not even giving her a second to even breath before hoisting her up and slamming her down on the couch. His rough hands found her legs quickly, spreading them apart and getting between them. He hastily grabbed his hard cock and immediately shoved it inside her aching and unprepared womanhood. A flash of white hot pain shook her whole body. Her fingers were tingling and the breath was knocked from her lungs. He was a monster. Relentlessly moving himself in and out of her like she was some kind of toy. His play thing he could bend, break, use, and throw away whenever he pleased. But she was his favorite toy, his most prized possession. No matter how broken, or bent, or lost, it was his.
And he would kill anyone if he ever lost his precious treasure.
“Haha! Ohhh... oh, yeah. It’s been a while huh baby bird? You okay dove? You can take my cock soooo good can’t you~? Right?” His flirtatious groans echoed in the large space of his penthouse living room. His wings spread widely, fluttering slightly at all of the lewd attention his sweet sweet cock was getting. Squeezed so firmly by unprepared walls of squishy muscle, enveloped in a warm and comforting feeling of love. He couldn’t have been any happier at that moment. His lover on the other hand, “Y-Yes H-Hawks!” Her mouth was left hanging open, her eyebrows scrunched together tightly in pain. Her cheeks were painted with salty streaks that cascaded to her chin and left drops on the couch.
“No... hah, no Hawks. Say my name. My name that o-only you know.” He was setting her up to make himself lose control. They both knew that whenever (Y/N) would say Hawks’ real name, the bird-quirked hero would lose control and turn into a complete animal. The girl underneath the presumed hero could only sob in pain and fear, conflicted on what to do. Have her captor cum inside of her and possibly force her not to take plan B, or be brutally hurt for disobeying his orders. On the slim chance Hawks would let her take the pill afterwards, she succumbed. “K-Keigo! Keigo! Kei! Kei! Kei-.. g-go!!!”
“FUCK DOVE! Yeah say it more! Goddamnit! Fucking say my name! You’re m-mine! Ahh hah! My pretty bird! A-All... mine...” His large hands slid over her slim waist, malnourished from his constant punishments and paranoia if she gained too much strength she would attempt to rebel against him like she did when she first got here. She began to chant his name desperately, almost screaming at the top of her lungs to satisfy him. “Rule 5, 1, and 19. Say them.” He demanded, not faltering in his movements. His fierce golden eyes stared upon her, watching intently as he made her cute breasts bounce. Her body being shoved back and forth aggressively to satisfy his burning hunger. “Hawks will a-always love me!” She sobbed out, struggling to even get a sentence out. She opened her blurry eyes to look at him, biting her lip harshly to stop crying. “I-I will always love Hawks! And we will do a-anything for each o-other!! Keigo please! Please!”
“Good girl! Fuck! I’m gonna cum dove!” His screwed up mind perceived her pleas as a sign for him to push her over and make her reach her euphoric orgasm. In reality, she was begging for him to stop. Stop his assault, stop his forceful touches. She could practically feel her body shutting down. Her heart and mind mentally checking out. Her emotions become hard and stone-like. Death would be better then spending another second with this man above her. She flinched feeling something warm flood about inside of her, ears barely picking up on the breathy gasp that came from the number two hero as he finished himself off. Her mind began to wander back to how all this even came to be.
So naive.
So stupid.
So blind to the true nature of the number two hero, Hawks.
Her eyes slowly fluttered closed, feigning being asleep in hopes she could escape to another world. Alas, that world faded the moment he opened his mouth and took away all her concentration. “Wore out already, huh? Guess I need to feed ya more, dove.” She was lifted into the strong hero’s arms, carried carefully back to his bedroom like she was the most fragile thing in the world. She knew of the pro hero’s past, how lonely he was. Even though she hated him to the core for everything he’s done to her, she couldn’t help but pity him. “But you know I can’t feed you too much or you’ll try to leave me again. You remember, baby?”
No response.
He sighed blissfully and leaned close to her, gently brushing her hair out of the way and listening to her soft breathing. “So fucking beautiful. You still manage to take my breath away. I trained you quite nicely. You behave so well... I couldn’t ask for a better girl. Although... when I first saw you I knew you had to be mine.” She tensed under his calloused fingers smoothing over her face. He knew she was awake. He wasn’t an idiot. “Rest baby bird. My sweet... sweet fucking dove. You mean the world to me. And I would kill. Anyone. That would try to take you away from me.” He smirked and pressed a kiss to her head. She slowly opened her eyes to look at him, seeing his warm smile full of genuine love. “Your eyes are so beautiful, (Y/N). Everything about you I love but your eyes... they’re your most beautiful feature.”
“...thank you, Keigo.” She whispered. He chuckled and crawled into bed beside her, pulling her body close to his. Large red wings spread widely, slowly coming down to cover them both as protection, and reassurance that his precious angel wouldn’t escape. She moved close to his chest, wrapping her arms around him and burying her face into his bare chest. “Rest. You’ve got a busy day tomorrow, going out on your own without me. You must be excited.” He always gave her these fishy questions. It was like he was testing her to examine her commitment to him. She swallowed a little and smiled. “A-A little... I’m g-going to buy groceries, ch-chicken, your coffee... a-and some p-plan-B...”
“Still weary of barring my chicks? That’s alright. It’ll all change soon dove. Once I achieve my dream, I’ll take you far away, start our family, and marry you.” He smirked down at her sleepy state. His large hands combing through her soft (H/C) hair. ‘Maybe we can start over, and you can love me without being forced.’ He thought to himself. I’m honesty, he disliked hurting her, but he couldn’t control his rage sometimes. In his childhood, all he had was an Endeavor toy. His favorite toy. Now he had (Y/N), and she was his new favorite toy, his treasure really. He needed to hold on with a death grip and not let her go. Not let go of the only good thing going for him at the moment. “That sounds n-nice... I-I’m sorry I’m v-very tired... g-goodnight Keigo... I-I love you.”
“I love you too.” He kisses her head. “Just don’t forget the rules while you’re out.”
526 notes · View notes
blackvelvetwriteson · 5 years ago
Text
𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐀 𝐁𝐈𝐑𝐃 𝐈𝐍 𝐑𝐔𝐓
                                     (  ~ Takami Keigo (Hawks) x Gender Neutral                                                                                                       Reader Insert ~ )
GENRE: Smut. Filthy, Disgusting, Grimy Smut.                                                                  
FANDOM: Boku No Hero Academia (My Hero Academia)
TRIGGER WARNINGS: SMUT! This particular fic has tones of CNC (Consensual Non Consent) but it’s KNOWN that both Reader- Chan and Hawks are on the same page when it comes to this sort of thing. This is very aggressive and loving at the same time so just be warned about that. Other than that, I don’t think anything else needs to be reported. PLEASE let me know if anything triggers you and I will be sure to not write anything like this in the future.
SUMMARY: This is a headcanon of Hawks in rut. There’s GOING to be a part 2, so just be aware of that.
WORD COUNT: N/A because this is a headcanon/imagine
(Headers are mine, but the art inside of them are not! Please don’t steal or repost without credit!)
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You both had the same shift that day so of course you both came home together.
You both had seemed exhausted to no end but Hawks was definitely zapped, but he was a little different.
You unlocked the door intending to take a shower, make dinner, and then catch up on anything you needed to, humming softly to yourself as Hawks followed.
You were about to speak before you were stopped and gripped by the neck, pushed into a kiss as he pushed you into the wall.
You grunt softly before it finally clicks and you let him dominate you, gently pushing the door before he grabbed your hand and pinned it against the wall.
The door didn’t close all the way, surprise surprise :|
You open your eyes a little to find his eyes hungrily peering down at you causing your heart to leap in your throat.
You also notice that his wings are high and defined behind him vibrating, a couple of loose feathers falling from the bunch.
The vibration of his wings casted an eerie low whirr around you as he started to bare his teeth a little feeling his cock get hard against you.
You close your eyes a little and look down but he tilts your chin up so you can’t look away, his hips grinding hard into you as he lets out one of those hoarse shaky breaths of his right by your ear.
You, who was already aroused a little before, pressed your thighs together and pressed his bulge in between them which made him arch his back, shudder and thrust into you hard, pulling your hips against him which created a loud mack that elicited a chesty moan from him.
You found his moans to be quite appealing and they made you even more horny every single time you heard them. He, of course, used it against you all the time, especially in the most inappropriate times.
By this point, you’d have figured out that he was in rut and a sly smirk washed over your face.
You knew that during Rut, he loved to indulge on his “bird of prey” instincts. He always loved a fight and you both knew each other’s boundaries so well that nothing had ever really went wrong before.  
He leaned in to kiss you and you swiveled your head away from him causing him to growl lowly and take you by the throat, sucking on your earlobe causing your knees to buckle.
“Not so tough now are you, Baby Bird,” he growled, pulling you closer, marking your neck up with his teeth.
You tremble as you feel his teeth teasing your sensitive areas and you took one of his hands, sucking on his finger, rubbing his bulge, your eyes challenging his.
He lets out an airy moan as his eyebrows arch, biting his lip as he started to grind into your hand, his forearm now pressed against the wall, all of his moans spilling out of his mouth right into your ear.
You shudder and push against his bulge, pushing him away, nibbling on his finger as you pull away.
“Come. Here,” he growled out as he bit his lip, licking over the same fingers that were just in your mouth.
“I don’t think I want to,” you lie and walk away, shaking your ass in his direction as you walk away.
Again, there’s that eerie hum of his vibrating wings again his hand loosening his belt a little before his hand disappeared into his boxers, squeezing and stroking at his cock as he leaned against the wall.
“If you make me chase, y-you I’m g-going t-to f-face fuck you s-so g-goddamn ha-hard,” he moaned out as he continued to please himself, his hips bucking into his hand. “Y-You’re not going to be able to t-talk for a f-fucking w-week and a half,” he threatened already looking like he was about to cum, his eyes half lidded and his cheeks reddened.
“Oh no… A good face fucking from my daddy? W-What a tragedy,” you tease more, sitting on the bed, twirling your fingers in your hair as you watch him jerk himself off.
Suddenly you see a spark behind his eyes and you get a little nervous.
“Don’t fucking touch yourself,” he growled out in a small moan before starting to stroke himself faster,
For some reason, watching him with his shirt halfway off of his shoulders and his hands down his pants was a little hotter than if he were to have his cock out in the open for you to see.
His feathers started to fluff up and his breathing hitched as he leaned against the wall, his head tilted up as he broke into a fit of deep, chesty moans, his wings trembling as they became more pronounced.
At his feet, there was a pile of soft red down feathers, but somehow you were a little more focused on his trembling legs, his breathing and his expression sounding like he was about to cum.
Of course, you press your thighs together and groan out softly, grinding against your bed, letting out soft groans.
“I s-said— F-Fuck~ D-Don’t move!” He looked back down at you as he started to slowly thrust into his hand, his strong hips mimicking those deep strokes he gave to you that you loved so much, his teeth clad on the collar of his shirt, even on the brink of release still looking smug.
You suddenly formed an idea of your own that might’ve pissed him off, but you were pissed that he decided to get off without you, making you horny and not being able to do anything about it.
“K-Keigo,” you whimper, a small smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. “P-Please! I’m sorry, I’ll be a g-good b-baby bird, please… P-Please f-fuck me…”
You put on the most innocent, needy voice you could and knew that your plan was in motion once he took his hand out of his pants with a soft groan.
You spread your legs for him and he stood in between them pushing you back on the bed, trying *again* to give you a kiss.
You squeak softly when you’re pushed back on the bed and when he tries to kiss you, again you look away and try to push him off of you.
Once again, you both have a safe word and neither of you said it, so he continues.
He pulls your hips against his throbbing bulge and you whimper out loudly as he growls into your ear.
“G-Get off of me!” You tried to squirm and wiggle around, trying to push him off, trying to fight away.
“You’re gonna take me like a good baby bird!” He growled as he thrusted his hips hard against yours causing you to moan and cry out.
You moved to hit him and he just grabbed your wrist pinning you to the bed.
“Tell me how fucking bad you want me, baby,” he moaned into your ear, growling as he slowly rolled his hips into yours, his face looking a bit drunk because of the power he held over you, his eyes dark and malicious while also still loving.
“No! E-Eat shit Keigo,” you cry out trying not to give in to his cock twitching against your sex.
“Don’t make me rip those pants right off of you baby,” he threatened, his hand clenched tight around the top of your pants, pulling at your pants.
“D-Do it then! You’re the b-bird of prey r-right? Hm? So d-do something!”
He did as told with a challenging smirk, plucking one of his own feathers, cutting them off of you.
“W-Wait! Kei-“
He mocked you as he slid his pants and boxers down his legs just enough to be able to thrust deep inside of your tight little hole.
As he did so, you arched your back and all of that fight you held before suddenly melted away into a sea of moans and whimpers watching as his sharp eyes preyed upon you.
“Fuuuccckkk~ How does it feel? H-How does it feel knowing you do this to me, hm? Take responsibility baby bird,” he teases you as he immediately deals you deep strokes, pushing his strong hips into your hole ready for him to use and abuse all night.
Still, you want to be bratty so you slap him which makes him hold you down with one hand, the other hand thrusting hard into you, his wings flapping a little as they stiffened and he gave another throaty moan.
He was usually a sensitive person, but during rut his sensitivity absolutely skyrocketed and you couldn’t do anything but try and hold your resolve not to break.
You could see the pretty light behind his eyes so you dig your nails into his shoulder and he growls quietly as the tips of his wings flutter and quiver by how you squeeze around him.
You grab one of his hands and suck the precum from his fingers making his jaw drop and his eyes roll into the back of his head as his fluid hip thrusts melt into something choppy but still rough and pleasurable.
You knew that his hands were the most sensitive besides his ear and his collarbone.
“F-Fuck baby bird,” he moaned out trying not to cum, his breaths heaving as sweat washed over his forehead.
You smirk and bite on his fingers and then deep throat them causing him to practically yelp out in pleasure, his cock twitching inside of you.
“Like this, daddy,” you ask as he stares down at you with your lustful eyes as the saliva strands connects your lips to his fingers.
“Y-Ye-ah,” he moaned out as he tried to keep from passing out.
He loved how tight you were around him, the way you looked with your fingers down your throat and the way your moans felt around his fingers.
You knew you had the control now, so you push yourself against him and clench down as you nibble on his fingers.
I w-want you to cum inside of m-me! Please daddy,” you tease as you felt him harden more and he was about to cum right then and there.
“I d-don’t w-want t-to-“
And right after that, he came, his eyes widening as he thrusted into you hard, his feathers casting that almost cinematic murmur through the room before standing up pronounced as if he were putting on a show for someone. He looked pronounced, curved over you, his fingers going deeper into his throat, a panting mess, his eyes sleek and slender, his trembling feathers still having that soft hum.
Luckily for him, being the territorial fuck he was, the neighbors COULD see you. All of you. And everything that’d just transpired.
The door wasn’t closed all the way.
The windows were open.
But upon further inspection, however, there was one *neighbor* watching just a little too closely. Your friendly neighborhood villain, Dabi.
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cafedanslanuit · 5 years ago
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Sure! I loved writing these, hope you like them <3 Also, here’s the Dabi + Shigaraki relationship headcanons SFW & NSFW
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|| SFW ||
Keigo would want your relationship to stay hidden from the media and the Hero Public Safety Commission. They have access to almost everything he is, does and owns, so he rather keep them away from you. He wouldn’t want them interfering with something he really cares about.
Your relationship with him grew organically, there was no formal question asked. You had kept bumping into each other at random places, so after thinking you were very attractive, he asked for your number. You thought it was a joke because why would the Numer Two Hero actually give you his real number, but hey, that same night he texted you. Months after him stopping by your place to eat take out and chat about everything and nothing, he kissed you.
You did your best not to interpret his kiss as anything more than that but a couple of weeks of kissing later, he referred to you as “his girl” once he was teasing you through text and you just knew.
His favourite kind of dates is sitting on your living room floor and eating take-out (preferably something with chicken). You chat until it’s past midnight and then go to sleep or watch a movie until both of you do.
Keigo’s favourite sleeping position is him on top of you, resting his head between your neck and chest. He loves when you fall asleep caressing his wings. He also likes sleeping on his side, but his arm always ends up in a strange position when he tries to spoon you.
He loves making playlists. He has a playlist for almost every occasion. Once, you were sitting down on the floor after having dinner and he suddenly asked you to dance. You expected some silly music, probably the one you would hear at a nightclub, especially when he turned the lights off, the only light coming from the moon peeking through your open window. You were pleasantly surprised when he pressed play and took you in his arms, slow-dancing to probably the corniest but also most beautiful playlist you’ve ever heard. Your love for him only grew when, after a bunch of songs, you took his phone to pause it and realized Keigo named the playlist after you.
Has a habit of sending one of his red feathers flying through the sky until it reaches your always open living room window. It’s a reminder he’s thinking about you even if he’s not around and you always smile whenever you find one of those.
While on public he’s always smiling, agreeing to selfies and signing autographs, his social battery tends to drain out when he’s at your place. Sometimes he wants to be with you, but he doesn’t really want to talk. He’ll just watch TV on the couch or take a nap on your bed. You’re more than welcome to join him, though, but please don’t talk. He just needs to feel you there without the need of having to fill the silence with words.
It’s very important you understand both of his sides. It’s not that his Hawks persona is entirely fake, he really likes making cheeky comments and teasing you until your whole face is burning. But he also lives a very complicated life, not only as a hero but also because of the way he was raised, to serve the Hero Public Safety Commission and do what he’s told to do. Behind his TV smiles, there’s a kid who lost his childhood and one of the things he loves about you is that, with the small amount of information he’s managed to tell you so far, you’ve understood the depth of his character and learnt when to give him space and when to cuddle him with a big grin.
Keigo’s philosophy is always oriented to the greater good, so he has a problem with putting himself first. His choices will always go to which one will bring peace to the world in the most immediate manner. That’s one of his main issues when you two start dating. You’ve taught him that is okay to choose himself from time to time, but it’s difficult to change what he’s been taught at such a young age. This will lead to him missing dates or taking on missions he doesn’t really want to do just because the Hero Public Safety Council tells him to do so.
One of your favourite bird-like characteristics of him is the fact that Keigo likes to collect little items from each one of his favourite dates with you. He has a drawer filled with folded-up receipts, a couple of taps of soda bottles, the extra disposable chopsticks the restaurant had accidentally sent you the first night you ate together at your place, a pen from the hotel where you two had spent a night under fake names with the help of a wig and the tape you used to hide Hawks wings under a trenchcoat. You sometimes wonder if your missing earrings are there as well.
Your least favourite one is the fact he’s always up at ungodly hours of the morning, no matter which time he went to bed. He’s learnt to stay on the bed until you wake up, though. Sometimes, he will wake you up with a trail of kisses from your neck to your shoulder. Other times, he will find a more creative way...
|| NSFW ||
Yes, you guessed it. There have been times where you have woken up, feeling Keigo’s erection grazing the back of your thighs. When you do, you tend to turn around and kiss him, but sometimes you decide to play with him a little. You will play-pretend to be asleep, trying to cover your smile when Keigo, quickly catching on, jokingly laments you’re still asleep. “Aw, I wanted to play with my baby bird” he will say, softly playing with your nipples and leaving small kisses on your shoulder. “Too bad she’s still asleep. Maybe… there’s a way I can wake her up…” he says, as he slowly pushes himself inside your already wet core.
Keigo only has to modes: animalistic, rough sex or quiet, caring sex. There are times he’s going to take you on all fours, his fist grabbing your hair from behind and other times he will lay between your thighs, grunting against your neck, his hands settled on your waist as you circle his hips with your legs.
There are a lot of fun times, though. Sometimes you’re riding him while he’s sitting on the edge of the bed and one bad movement bends his cock. You both groan at the pain as you quickly remove yourself, but end up laughing so much it takes a while before you can resume your previous activity. He also never lets you forget the time you accidentally fell off the bed while he was taking you sideways and thrusted particularly hard.
One of his favourite things to do is sitting you on the kitchen counter, kneeling between your thighs and eating you out. He loves leaving you hanging, stopping just before you’re about to come and have you beg him to bring his mouth back on you.
Keigo also really likes overstimulating you. Once he lets you come, he’ll keep his mouth on your folds, wanting to see how many times he can make you come.
He’s all up for pleasing you. He really liked when you comfortable enough with him to tell him what kinks you wanted to try out. You set out a whole night for exploring. It started with spanking and somehow it ended up with you dropping hot wax on his chest. Even if most of the things you tried out didn’t stick, it was probably the most intimate night you two had, laughing when you discovered the wax had stained your sheets and him accidentally swallowing the Halls candy he had on his mouth while eating you out.
I can see Keigo being really into role-playing. He especially enjoys situations where he’s in control and you’re more than happy to give it go him. You haven’t experimented too much into this, but he definitely loves face-fucking you, seeing the tears running down your cheeks.
One day, you were coming out of the shower and felt really confident in how you looked. Knowing you had a date with Keigo that night, you snapped a nude photo of yourself kneeling with your legs wide open on your bed in front of the mirror. You grinned to yourself when you got a text back: “fuuuuuuck. you’re a whole course meal, baby. can’t wait for tonight”. Your giddiness stopped when that night, as you opened the door for him, you saw a bruise on his forehead. Concerned, you asked him about it, only to laugh loudly when he explained he had crashed into a lamppost when he opened your message.
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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 4 years ago
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It’s Not That Bad, Right?
Prompt: Feel free to write this prompt (or not)- Merlin is cursed and turned into a dragon/wyvern. Arthur commands him to stay in the forest until they figure out how to change him back, but when Merlin senses that Arthur is in danger during a tournament in the City arena, he flies in front of everyone to rescue him, proving how willing he is to protect Arthur even if it means putting his life at the mercy of a shocked Camelot and angry Uther. Also Merlin breaths fire and is BAMF as a dragon.
Thanks for the prompt, babe! 
Read on Ao3 Part 2!
Pairings: Merthur, can be platonic or romantic you decide
Warnings: none. Merlin’s a little shit but what did we expect
Word Count: 3511
 Okay, Merlin’s gonna take the blame this time. This one’s on him. Definitely. No two ways about it. He’s big enough to admit he screwed up. He is! This one’s definitely on him. Absolutely not a question about it.
 In his defense, what was he supposed to do when he saw a sorcerer with a magic circle around a dragon’s egg chanting ominously as a bunch of storm clouds formed overhead, not run into the middle and push it out?
 Yeah, as if.
“Merlin!”
 Well, it sure hurt like hell, that’s for damn sure. Merlin can feel his teeth chattering against themselves as energy courses through his body, into through his fingertips and out through the top of his head, sending bolts into the ground, through his legs, through his chest. Something reaches deep beneath him and pulls, stretching him like putty. His throat screams in a soundless roar until he registers that, oh wait, that deafening noise is coming from him. Huh.
 “M-Merlin?”
 Why does Arthur sound unsure? Merlin’s fine. Merlin’s so fine right now. Everything is so fine and good right now, what’s wrong? Merlin turns around to say that, yeah, it’s alright, prat, he’s fine, no need to sound so nervous, only his head seems really really heavy right now and since when has his neck been that long?
 “Sire, stay back! I don’t know what’s happened!”
 “Stay low to the ground.”
 “One of these buggers wasn’t enough, huh?”
 Oh, are there more sorcerers? Merlin turns his—why the hell is his head so heavy?—head to look, scanning the trees for more sorcerers.
 …that’s funny, why is he suddenly higher? And where are his arms? Or his legs? Or…
 …oh, bollocks.
 Merlin sighs, only to realize that hey, you guys remember that dragons can breathe fire, right?
 “Get back!” Oh, there’s Leon. Merlin wondered where he got off to. “I don’t know where you come from, beast, but you must leave immediately.”
 “Beast,” Merlin mutters, “how rude.”
 It’s worth it for the way Leon’s arm drops dead to his side. The knight’s mouth gapes up at him. “Merlin?”
 Merlin’s gotta get used to this freaking head. He looks around at himself, tests his four feet—claws? Paws? He doesn’t know—and flaps his wings experimentally. “Pretty sure. Just, er, a little different?”
 “A little different, he says,” Gwaine mutters from Arthur’s other side, “Merlin what the hell have you done now?”
 “I think,” Merlin says, testing out the words in his new mouth—so many teeth—“I’ve been turned into a dragon.”
 “Stellar observations there.”
 “How is this possible,” Lancelot murmurs, the only one of the knights who dares step closer, close enough to rest his hand on Merlin’s flank. Wow, he’s tiny. “Merlin, did—did you do this?”
 “Why would I do this?”
 “You are dramatic,” Lancelot says, winking up at him.
 “Hey!”
 “He’s not wrong.”
 “Thanks, Gwaine.”
 “Alright, alright.” Arthur sways on his feet, looking every bit about to faint, except he grits his teeth and puts his sword decidedly at his side. “Merlin’s a dragon. Sure.”
 “In the flesh!”
 “I think you mean in the scale,” Elyan adds helpfully.
 Arthur glares at him, only to glance around and see Lancelot happily petting Merlin’s scales, Leon looking him over like he does the new armor, and Gwaine sauntering over to a stump and sitting down. He cocks his head and looks at Merlin, before shrugging and pulling out a waterskin. Even Percival and Elyan look a little nonplussed.
 “Are all of you just—fine with this?”
 Gwaine shrugs. “Hardly the weirdest thing to ever happen to us, is it?”
  “Merlin is a dragon!”
 “And not too long ago Gaius was possessed by a goblin.”
 “Don’t forget the manticore,” Percival supplies.
 “Oh,” Lancelot calls, “and the immortal army!”
 “And,” Leon says, “let us also not forget, Sire, that Uther once was married to a troll.”
 “Wait, he was what?” Gwaine leaps up indignantly. “Why have you not told us this story?”
  “Enough!”
 Merlin doesn’t sigh, but he does exhale noisily through his nostrils. While Arthur prattles on about respecting the king or some such nonsense that he’s sure only Leon is really listening to—and then it’s only out of politeness and because he’s heard it a thousand times—Merlin fidgets.
 Scales itch, did you know that? It feels like he’s wearing scratchy clothes that don’t fit right on his skin. He huffs, trying to keep the smoke to a minimum, scrubbing his legs and arms along the ground to try and get some relief. When it doesn’t work, he flops his head down with a resounding thump, out of the way of any of the knights. Wow, his head is the size of Lancelot.
 Lancelot, of course, because this man is the definition of unflappable unless it comes to Gwen, simply smiles and reaches out to gently stroke the ridge between Merlin’s eyes. Merlin rumbles gratefully and nudges Lancelot with the tip of his nose.
 “Right there, hmm?” Lancelot pats him a few more times.
 “He’s not a horse, Lancelot,” Leon says with a smile.
 “No, he’s a dragon.”
 “He is sitting right here,” Merlin grumbles, “thank you very much.”
 “So you can still talk.” Gwaine downs the waterskin and saunters over. “Can you fly?”
 Percival glances at his back. “He’s got wings, doesn’t he?”
 “Can we ride him?”
 “Gwaine!”
 “What? You lot were thinking it too!”
 “I’m going mad,” Merlin hears Arthur say faintly, “I’m going mad because my manservant is a dragon and none of my knights seem to care.”
 “Oh, we care,” Gwaine says, “this is the most interesting thing that’s happened in a while.”
 “Merlin appears to have his wits about him still,” Leon murmurs in an effort to soothe Arthur’s nerves which, honestly, Merlin’s a dragon, so that’s fair, “and I do not believe Merlin is likely to attack us.”
 “Merlin trips over his own two feet when he’s only got two and he’s the size of a string bean,” Arthur mutters, not taking his eyes off of him.
 “Oi!”
 “It’s true and you know it.”
 Merlin hides a smile, partly because he doesn’t want Arthur to see he’s happy, and partly because he has no idea what dragon smiles look like. Kilgharrah didn’t really smile. But the banter seems to have calmed Arthur down a little, at least enough to walk up to Merlin and look at him. Properly.
 Merlin lifts his head, just so they’re eye level, and waits.
 Arthur hesitantly reaches a hand out.
 Merlin holds his breath.
 Arthur’s hand clenches into a fist and he turns away.
 “We’ll have to find a way to fix this,” Arthur mutters, stalking back toward his horse. “Back to Camelot. We speak of this to no one except Gaius.”
 “You just want to leave him here?”
 “If we brought a dragon back to Camelot, my father would have all of our heads. And Merlin would be killed. Or chained up.” Arthur shakes his head firmly, already back on his horse. “We tell no one.”
 “So what do we do then,” Gwaine yells, “just abandon him out here?”
 “He’s a dragon,” Arthur says, “I’m sure he can fend for himself.”
 Something pinches inside Merlin’s chest as Arthur turns away. He growls, ignoring Lancelot’s concerned look as he straightens, his head turning to look down at his massive chest. It aches, like something in him is reaching for the end of a rubber band that just won’t snap back.
 “Merlin?”
 “I’m fine,” he manages, testing out his body again. He’s definitely not used to having six limbs, let alone wings. “I’ll figure it out.”
 “We will find a way to change you back, old friend,” Leon promises, “you will not be stuck like this forever.”
 “Might not be the worst thing in the world to be stuck as.”
 “All the same, we will try.”
 “Thanks, Leon.”
 Leon nods deeply, mounting his horse and setting off after Arthur. The other knights do the same, each bidding Merlin farewell. Lancelot is the last to leave.
 “Are you sure you wouldn’t like me to stay?”
 As tempting as it is, Merlin shakes his massive head. “You might get hurt. And Camelot might, er—“
 “Since when have I listened to Camelot over listening to you?”
 In response, Merlin nudges him—gently!—with his nose back over to his horse.
 “Alright, alright,” Lancelot laughs, “I’m going.”
 Still, Merlin can’t help the dull ache of loneliness from settling in his chest as Lancelot disappears into the trees. He looks around. This clearing is nice. It’s just large enough to fit him comfortably. He can lie down—which he does—and curl up with his tail tucked around his legs. He has a tail, does that mean he has seven limbs now? Does a tail count as a limb?
 Oh, the ground feels really nice on his sides. Can he—he can roll to his other side too. Oh yeah, that’s fun.
 Merlin spends several minutes just rolling around on the ground, letting his wings splay out a little and flap to the sides, stirring up little storms of dust and dirt. He ends up on his back, his wings splayed out, looking up at the dark sky. His eyes drift closed and he rumbles happily.
 He isn’t sure how much time passes but his wings are starting to get a little sore. He grunts and rolls.
 …only to rock right back.
 He tries again. No luck.
 Maybe if he flaps his wings, he can—nope. The other side maybe? Oh, nope. Nope, that’s not it either.
 He’s stuck.
 How undignified. Good thing there’s no one around to—
 “Young warlock?”
 “No,” Merlin groans, shutting his eyes and instinctively going to cover his face only to remember that he’s got dragon legs and that’s not going to work. “Go away.”
 “No, young warlock,” comes the voice that is definitely laughing at him, “I don’t think I will.”
 Merlin opens his eyes. Sure enough, there’s Kilgharrah, who looks way too happy. Merlin gives up and lets his limbs hang uselessly. “I’m stuck.”
 “I can see that.”
 “…how do I get unstuck?”
 “You roll, young warlock.”
 “I’ve tried that!”
 “Well, then you must not’ve tried hard enough.”
 Trying to roll over and failing miserably in front of the Great Dragon is possibly one of the most humiliating things you can do. Especially when you’re exerting yourself because you’ve never had a dragon body before and you’re making all sorts of embarrassing grunts and squeals. Merlin doesn’t recommend it.
 Eventually, Merlin stops, panting and looking back at Kilgharrah who looks all too pleased with himself. “Are you just going to stand there?”
 “Did you need something?”
 “Help me!”
 “All you had to do was ask, young warlock.”
 Merlin wisely bites back the many insults on his tongue and rolls again. This time, Kilgharrah sticks his nose under the flap of Merlin’s wing and pushes him over with a graceless thump. Merlin shakes himself.
 “Thanks.”
 “But of course. You know I live to serve you.”
 “Have you gotten more sarcastic or have we not spoken in a while?”
 “That is an answer you must seek for yourself.”
 “You’re still as vague, good, I was beginning to think you were some other dragon.”
 “There are no other dragons,” Kilgharrah says softly, suddenly growing serious, “at least…there were no other dragons.”
 He inclines his head, moving with a grace that shows unlike Merlin, Kilgharrah understands his body.
 “What happened, Merlin?”
 Merlin explains.
 “That was very brave, young warlock.”
 “You can say stupid.”
 “That was very stupid, Merlin.”
 “Yeah, well.” Merlin kicks a rock next to him. “What else is new?”
 “I must say,” Kilgharrah muses, looking him over, “you are not an unhealthy dragon.”
 “That is…a compliment? I think?”
 “Well, typically when it comes to anamorphic magic, it does not perform…nearly this successfully.” Kilgharrah nudges Merlin’s wing with the tip of his snout. “I suspect it is because you are magic that you have transformed so completely.”
 “And also why I’m still able to talk?”
 “Precisely.”
 “Great.” Merlin snuffles a little. Wow, he can smell a whole lot more. “So how do we fix it?”
 “Unfortunately, anamorphic magic is…temperamental.”
 “Okay, so I can still speak normally, which means it’s not a dragon thing to speak in vague stupid cryptic sentences. Speak normally.”
 “Your tongue is still as sharp as ever.”
 “Well, now that I’m not a tiny human anymore—“
 “Most humans are tiny.”
 “Kilgharrah.”
 Kilgharrah sighs. Ooh, he’s gotta show Merlin how to do that so he can still sigh. He misses that. “It will take time. From what you described, the spell was not completed, which means it will only last as long as the magic holds.”
 “And how long is that?”
 “Perhaps until the next full moon.” That’s only a week and a bit away. That’s not so bad.
 “So what do I do until then?”
 “You never did learn how to hunt with Arthur, did you?”
 If you told Merlin he would be spending a week with Kilgharrah learning how to be a dragon and actually enjoying himself while doing it, he would have laughed, slammed the door in your face, and muttered some spell to make you trip as you walked away.
 And yet, here we are.
 Merlin does always insist that they stay close to the clearing. If someone comes back, he doesn’t want them to worry. Kilgharrah just shakes his head and tosses him another deer. Merlin can sigh now! That’s nice. His body doesn’t feel so itchy all the time either. His head doesn’t feel like a ridiculous weight anymore. His wings feel right. It’s not bad, this whole being-a-dragon business.
 There’s still something wrong though.
 That pain he had in his chest when the knights first left hasn’t gone away. It feels like he’s missing something. Sometimes when he lies down he rests his head on the ground too, tries to press his chest to the earth as much as possible. See if there’s something he can slot back into place. Nothing ever works.
 Kilgharrah, for once, isn’t being cryptic when he says he genuinely doesn’t know what’s wrong. But he does rest his head on Merlin’s back. That feels nice and warm.
 He doesn’t trust himself enough to try and breathe fire.
 Two days before the spell is supposed to wear off, the pain spikes. In an instant, Merlin crumbles to the ground and whines. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts.
 “Merlin,” Kilgharrah rumbles, at his side in an instant, “Merlin, what is wrong?”
 “M-my chest, I can’t, I—it hurts—“
 “Where is it coming from, young warlock?”
 “I just told you—!”
 “No,” Kilgharrah says sharply, “where?”
 Merlin opens his mouth to snap back when he feels a line in his chest yank taut.
 Oh.
  Oh.
 With two flaps of his wings, Merlin is airborne. The line pulls him over the trees, out of the forest, toward the castle in the distance. Camelot.
  Arthur.
 Of bloody course it’s Arthur. What else could it be? As he flies, Merlin racks his brain trying to think of what’s happening, what could be hurting Arthur, what’s going on—
 Right. There’s a bloody tournament going on.
 What is it about tournaments that make every single magic-user with a grudge against Uther come out of the woodwork?
 …well…
 There’s the arena. People are fleeing in droves. Merlin tucks his wings and dives, thankful to the lessons Kilgharrah gave him. He spots Arthur, he spots Uther—
 He spots a wave of soldiers in black armor surrounding Arthur on all sides. Their blades gleam in the light. Magic crackles around them. Arthur is bleeding.
  Not on his watch.
 Merlin opens his mouth.
 A dozen soldiers melt away like dew as he bathes them in fire, the black armor vanishing. Another dozen vanish as torrents of flame spill from his throat, mouth open in a righteous scream. Arthur whirls around to look. His cry of surprise is lost in the roar of the dragon’s wings. Uther’s face is pale. Another jet of fire incinerates the knights as Merlin lands with a thud in front of Arthur.
 A knight charges him. Merlin whips his tail around and swipes four of them off their feet. Another one launches a spear at him and lodges itself in his wing. Merlin cries out and lunges forward. The armor tastes salty. The other knight is torched before he has a chance to throw the spear.
 At his side, Arthur seems to snap out of his stupor, brandishing his sword and fighting off one of the last remaining knights. Merlin gets his snout underneath another and throws him into the distance. He swings his head around like a hammer and slams two more into the arena wall.
 The last one—well, he just screams at the last one.
 It seems to do the trick; the armor falls apart in a series of heavy clanks.
 Merlin stops, panting heavily. There’s still a spear lodged in his side and it burns. Arthur is safe. That’s all that matters. Arthur is safe.
 “…Merlin?”
 Merlin turns his head, his head hanging low. Arthur stands there, covered in blood, but alive, and holds out his hand.
 Merlin lays his head on the ground and closes his eyes.
 Arthur reaches out.
 A soft glove lands on Merlin’s cheek. Rubs his scales softy. Merlin purrs.
 “Hello, Merlin,” Arthur murmurs, too quiet for anyone else to hear, “welcome back.”
 “Kill it!”
 Ah, yes, right. Uther.
 “No!”
 Arthur’s cry forces Merlin’s eyes open, spotting Gwaine, Lancelot, Leon, Percival, Elyan, all writing spears and javelins away from other knights. A sharp pain comes from his side and he turns to see Arthur trying to pull the spear out. He has to brace his foot against Merlin’s side to get out. Arthur tosses it away and holds his hand over the wound. Thankfully it seems like it just lodged in between two scales, Merlin’s not bleeding too much.
 “Father,” Arthur pants, “Father we can’t kill it.”
 “It’s a dragon, Arthur!”
 “And it just saved our lives!”
 “It’s nothing but a beast,” Uther snarls, seemingly regaining some of his composure as he spews his hateful speech from his comfortable box, “mindless and hungry. It will kill us all!”
 “Does it look like it’s about to kill us?”
  No, no it most certainly does not, thank you very much.
 Arthur glances between the two of them, before leaning in close to Merlin.
 “Fly back to the clearing, we’ll meet you there.”
 Merlin turns his head. Arthur stares at him insistently.
 “Go!”
 He takes off, hearing Arthur’s long, fake cries about how they will chase after him, slay him, for the good of Camelot. He smiles and lands in the clearing. Kilgharrah is gone. Well, that’s kind of to be expected, isn’t it? He thinks a message of gratitude, hoping it will reach him, wherever he is. He doesn’t get a verbal reply, but a warm spark of magic spreads over his damaged scales and he smiles.
 Sure enough, the knights crash through the brush a few moments later, Arthur scrambling off his horse and up to Merlin.
 “You,” he says, grinning breathlessly, “are an idiot.”
 “Idiot dragon,” Merlin corrects, “who just saved your arse.”
 “That was so cool,” Gwaine crows, “you—“
 “Yes, yes,” Percival mutters, “you’ve been saying that since we left.”
 “They’re a bit excited, Merlin,” Lancelot chuckles, “forgive them.”
 “…it is pretty cool,” Merlin admits.
 “Are you hurt?” Arthur glances over at his side. “You were hit.”
 “I think it’s healed up pretty well.”
 “We, er, weren’t able to find a way to fix you.”
 “I think it’ll wear off by the next full moon.”
 “How would you know?”
 Merlin gives Arthur a look that’s definitely just a rip off of Kilgharrah’s. “I know many things, young king.”
 “You stop that right now.”
 “So,” Elyan muses, “two days?”
 Merlin nods.
 “Camping trip, boys!”
 Gwaine’s holler makes the rest of them laugh and they quickly go about setting up camp. Merlin bows his head to carefully light the fire as the knights make themselves comfortable. It’s not so bad, actually, out here in the clearing with them. Arthur leaning up against his chest, Lancelot by his side. Leon tosses him a large chunk of meat as Percival watches. Elyan double-checks his side and pronounces him all clear.
 Yeah. Being a dragon isn’t so bad.
 “I get a ride before you turn back, right?”
 “Gwaine!”
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toothpastecanyon · 5 years ago
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Mizar the Mediocre, Chapter 2
Alcor gets a summons from a strange Mizar. Maybe there's still something to recognise, here.
See most updated version on Archive of Our Own.
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 There were no rolling green fields to speak of at this golf course. A grey, squat building lounged across the side of a parking lot here. It had a flickering open light, a man smoking by the entrance, and a strangely-painted sign that might’ve indicated it was the place to go for mini golfing if the background and text hadn’t been neon green and neon yellow, respectively.
 “We’re here,” Ashley said, and then: “Or maybe not. It looks like it closed ten years ago.”
 “Closed? Nah, the open sign’s on!” Mart hopped out of the car. “Race you to the doors, sweetie!”
 “What? Dad, I’m not-” She watched him take off running for the building. “Gonna race you…? Okay, cool. Good talk.”
 Alcor snorted. She shot him a slight grin.
 “My dad’s ridiculous, seriously.”
 “Aww, he’s trying.” He watched Mart stumble up to the smoking man, pant a few times, then try and offer a high five. The man walked away fast. “We’d better go get him.”
 “Yeah, before he- oh, stars, he’s dancing now. Come on, demon guy.”
 A cloud of scratch cards billowed out as Alcor opened the car door. He took a moment to check his face in the mirror before following Ashley - brown eyes? Check. Rounded ears? Yep. Was he missing anything else… Oh, wings! Better stash those away for now.
 “Alcor, you coming?”
 “Yeah!” He quickly caught up with Ashley as she reached her dad. “Hey, uh, maybe you guys shouldn’t be calling me Alcor, um, in the course. That’s a demon name, might freak people out.”
 “I mean, it’s not exclusively a demon name,” Mart said. “I knew a dude called Alcor once. Cool guy. Said his parents were Twin Souls fans - wait, were you in that weird movie about-”
 “No!” He snapped. “Okay, we’re doing a fake name-”
 “Martin!”
 “That’s your name.”
 “Yeah buddy, we can be name twins!”
 “How about Dee?” Ashley gave him a sly grin. “Last name Mon.”
 “Heh, very funny, but-”
 “Sam Onion! No, no, how about… I. P. Freely! Hehe, no, seriously…” Mart scratched his goatee as he stared at Alcor’s suit. Then he snapped his fingers and said: “I got it, I got it!      Mr Monopoly!”  
 “No. I’m not going in there as Mr Monopoly.”
 “Aww.”
 “I’ll just stick with Tyrone, okay?” Alcor hesitated. “Or… Dipper. Dipper Pines.”
 Ashley raised an eyebrow. “Pines? That sounds kinda familiar-”
 “Dipper Pines it is!” Mart reached over and gave him a clap on the back. “Nice to meetcha, my absolutely totally human friend! Now, would you perchance care to ye olde join us in the game of thy most miniature of golfs, good sir?”
 “I can ditch the suit if you’re gonna talk like that.”
 “Aww, Al- I mean Dipper!” He chuckled. “Caught myself there. Anyway, team, let’s play some mini golf!”
 With that, he threw an arm around Dipper and led him in through the front door, and… Dipper couldn’t help but smile at that. The comfort this Mizar already had hanging out with him, the warmth in his voice calling him Dipper… It was nice. Really, really nice.
 “Hey, this is a party! What you think of the tunes, Dipper?”
 “Oh, my stars, Dad. Don’t dance. Don’t-      Dipper!”  
 “Huh?” Dipper blinked, and suddenly registered the raging techno music inside the building. “Oh, this is-”
 “This is what the kids listen to, right!” Mart bumped Ashley with his hip. “Come on, Ash, let’s raise the roof!”
 “Ohhhh, my stars, I’m not associated with you.” She let out a startled giggle as she hid her face. “Dipper, help. Make him stop.”
 “Can’t stop, never gonna- ow, my shoulder.” Mart rubbed it. “Right, not supposed to raise you over my head… what were we doing again? Oh, yeah, mini golf! Where do we start putting?”
 “Probably over there.”
 Alcor pointed at a desk just off to the side from the entrance. It was a little hard to see but for the neon lights striped across the front. A few sections were flickering, making the whole thing an annoying distraction; it was hard to tear your eyes away and see the lady behind the darkened counter, or the unlit pricing sign above her head. Even Dipper had to squint as they walked over.
 “Looks like… seven dollars a head.”
 Mart jumped. “Seven dollars? That’s… uh… three and seven…”
 “Twenty-one dollars for all of us.”
 “Twenty-one dollars!”
 “Uh, you okay paying that?” Dipper reached into his own pocket. “I can probably-”
     “No! No no no, I got it! Twenty-one dollars is, uh, nothing to me, seriously!” He popped his dressing gown’s collar and strode on over to the desk. “Let me do the talking. Hi! Hello? Ma’am?”
 “Huh?” The lady looked up. “Oh, a customer! Hello, sir, would you like, uh, a day pass?”
 “Yes! I’ll have three, thank you!”
 “Okay, that’ll be twenty-one dollars.”
 “Wow, that’s a real good price! A steal!” With a grin, Mart reached into his wallet and slid a couple bills across the counter. “I can do you one better, though. How about… three dollars?”
 The woman just stared at him for a second. Somehow, the pumping music in the background made the silence even more awkward.
 “Um… sir, are you trying to haggle with me?”
 “Mmmmaybe?”
 Uh, well, I’m just here to work the register. So… that’ll be twenty-one dollars?”
 Ashley groaned. “Dad, just pay the money.”
 “Okay, okay! You drive a hard bargain, ma’am. You’re a strong, independent - I respect you! I respect you so much, I got the money… rrrriiiight…”
 Dipper could feel a hand pushing its way into his back pocket. With an eyeroll, he materialised a wallet.
 “...ooooooverrrrr- here!” Mart brandished it with a triumphant grin, and popped it open. “There’s - only twenty-one dollars in here?” He looked over to Dipper with an expression of genuine concern, and put a hand on his shoulder. “Dipper… you doing okay, buddy?”
 “No, I’m fine, Mart. I’m-” He shot a look at the cashier. “I don’t need money, okay? It’s on me-”
 “No, no, I’ll get this-”
 “Mart-”
 “I insist! I’ll put it on… this card - here you go, ma’am. It’s fine.” He gave Dipper a one-armed hug as he handed his wallet back. “You don’t need to thank me.”
 Dipper watched the cashier hesitate for a long moment before swiping Mart’s card. It went through, and she slid it across the counter.
 “Uh, alright, then… you’re all good, I guess.” She backed away. “I’ll get your clubs.”
 While she disappeared into a store room, Mart turned back to Dipper. “You know, if you ever need a place to stay-”
 “Dad, he was trying to tell you. He’s a demon.” Ashley pressed her face into the counter. “You didn’t have to go and make a scene, he probably could have just paid.”
 “Oh.”
 “It’s okay,” Alcor tried for a smile. “It’s, uh, very nice of you to offer, but I have my own place.”
 “Really? Where?” Mart’s grin came snaking back. “Does it have a couch someone could theoretically sleep on?”
 “Um, sorry Mart, it’s just a field in the Mindscape. It’s got a bunch of sheep in it, that’s kinda it-”
 “SHEEP!”
 Mart yelled that loud enough to startle the cashier as she came within earshot again. Alcor cocked his head.
 “Do you… not like sheep or something?”
 “No! I mean, I like ‘em, I wish ‘em well, but they scare me a little, I’ll be honest!” He rubbed his shoulder. “Maybe it was just the ones at that petting zoo I worked at, but they’re mean little fluffballs, I tell you! With sharp hooves, and, well, they’re weighty under all that wool, and- oh, you’re back! Hi, ma’am!”
 “Um,” the cashier blinked several times. “I have… your clubs?”
 “Ooh! Are you ready, team?” Mart clapped his hands together. “We’re going golfing!”
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captainchrisfics · 6 years ago
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Gaps Between Us
About: Chris Evans and a first person pov narrator have an age gap, sparking a controversy in the public eye, some tension among the MCU cast, and quite a bit of trouble in paradise. Thankfully, RDJ is always there to save the day.
Word Count: 3, 418
Requested By: Anonymous
A/N: Please feel free to submit reqs! My inbox ran dry and I’m always up for some inspiration :)
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“Evans, quit hogging the bread!” Jeremy Renner called from the other end of the table. It was quite a stretch to accommodate so many people, almost the MCU’s entire cast was present. Nobody could turn down a dinner invitation from Robert Downey Jr. including Chris and I. We sat together, close to the rest of the original Avengers, even though I was a newer addition to the franchise. Being included at a table of thirty or so of the biggest names in my field was immensely inspiring, the kind of awe-struck moment that made me feel like I was a part of something so much bigger than myself. Robert’s after filming dinners were often like that. 
Chris laughed as he picked up a roll, chucking it to his friend like a football. “If you hit the chandelier, I would’ve hit you harder,” RDJ chastised, shooting my boyfriend a playful side eye. Chris laughed harder as he waved a dismissive hand at Downey, insisting he didn’t need diamonds hanging from his temporary home’s ceiling anyway.
He slung an arm around my shoulders, stretching his fingers to grasp the side of my chair. “You aren’t gonna defend my honor, babe?” Chris asked me with faux disappointment and a cocked eyebrow. 
I rolled my eyes and reached for my glass, taking a slow sip before responding, “No, you deserved that one.” I didn’t take my eyes off Chris as his face contorted with an incredulous expression and I reached behind his back to high-five RDJ whose hand was already waiting for mine. 
“Wise move,” Robert quipped. Chris shook his head before returning to his plate, letting the Iron Man actor win this fight. “I learn from the best,” I countered, shooting RDJ a wink from across Chris’s lap. Over the course of this last film, the older actor and I had developed one of the closest relationships I’d ever had with a co-worker, second maybe only to my boyfriend. RDJ managed to take me under his wing and somehow I’d found a way to keep tagging along. We understood each other in a unique way, almost like we operated on the same wavelength, which was invaluable around someone as charismatic and unpredictable as Chris Evans, as much as I love him.
“You’re gonna regret that later,” Chris promised under his breath, a gruff tone only I heard. I kicked him under the table, insisting that it was all in good fun. “So,” Brie Larson said as she joined the group, dropped her plate from the make-shift buffet on the table next to mine and pulled out the chair beside me. “I’m sorry to talk shop, but I’ve got to tell you, I loved your work during the funeral scene today,” she professed, squeezing my hand with sincerity. Scarlett, who sat opposite of me, nodded in agreement as she added between bites, “Not to date myself, but I don’t think there’s a lot of actors your age who could pull off subtle, intense emotion like that.” 
I blushed, staring down at my plate to avoid all of the eyes I felt on me. “Oh, thank you... I appreciate that, but I  was just doing my job,” I shrugged. I was the youngest at the table by far, which could definitely be intimidating at times. Knowing my colleagues turned friends respected me and what I did just as much as I admired their work meant more than I could properly thank them for. “You all set a standard I only hope to match,” I added, squeezing Brie’s hand back.
“No, no, don’t bullshit these hacks,” Robert interjected. “I mean, sure, she was convincingly grieving my loss of life. But I expected more from the rest of you. Where were the theatrics? The professions of love now lost? The waterworks?” He shot pointed looks around the table at everyone who was present for Tony Stark’s funeral. Everyone laughed as Gwenyth Paltrow raised her hands in defense as she jokingly protested, “I had a little girl to be strong for.” “Really though, you did so great today,” Chris brought the conversation back to me as he paused devouring his meal to place a kiss on my temple. Down the table, someone groaned in objection to the PDA, which sent a heavy stone to the pit of my stomach. I felt Chris grow tense as well, always more self-conscious of our relationship than I was.
Our age difference made everything that much more difficult. It gave the media access to more insults to throw in their click-bait titles, contributed to the intense scrutiny the public eye had to offer in our line of work, and was always in the back of our minds. Not because we felt like there was anything wrong with it, but because other people did. If you asked any gossip site reader, Chris was in the midst of a mid-life crisis and I was a gold digger looking to capitalize on his vulnerability. Never mind that we were both perfectly of-age adults or that the same people used to praise our friendship all over the internet before they found out it was a little bit more.
“Relax Mackie,” Sebastian Stan teased from that end of the group, around where the groan came from. Seb had a teasing tone, shoving our friend’s shoulder jovially. Especially with them being some of the closest people to Chris on set, I’d gotten to know Anthony and Seb pretty well. Enough to know that they were only kidding, but that they sometimes didn’t know when to stop. I knew Chris inside and out though so when his ears perked up and his head followed the noise, previously furrowed brow raising as if to dare them to continue, I could tell you there would be trouble. “Her age isn’t on the clock anyway. That’s the thing, right?” Stan teased.
Chris smiled wryly with downcast eyes, watching as he spun his glass. Mackie laughed harder, the force of which threw him back in his chair as he prodded Sebastian’s chest in praise. “Just barely,” he shot back between breaths. The two chuckled one last time before the joke died down and they joined the rest of the cast in other topics of conversation. Chris didn’t seem to realize though, with the way he sat so tensely still like he’d draw more negative attention if he moved a single muscle.
I didn’t know the kind of pressure a few years could add until it burdened my chest every time a reporter brought it up on the red carpet, tugged down my soaring heart whenever we held hands in public and I caught people staring, weighed heavy on my mind when I noticed Chris grow as uncomfortable as he was now. All because of a little peck and a murmur that probably lost its original meaning among the translation of our anxieties.
Around us, the conversation amongst the original Avengers shifted to what everyone’s next projects would be now that Endgame’s filming was coming to a close. Chris, usually the most boisterous of the bunch, sat quietly as he shoved broccoli about his plate. His arm that had been wrapped around me sagged back to his side. His leg bounced rapidly like a revving engine, ready to run. I reached to squeeze his hand as a sign of comfort, that I was here and happy to be, knowing that the thought his nerves spiraling rapidly out of control in his head was never a good thing. As soon as my fingers brushed his, Chris pulled away so harshly he shot up from his seat, jostling the table unintentionally and grabbing everyone’s attention.
“I’m uh…” he scratched the back of his neck, skittish eyes bouncing between everyone staring at him. “Gonna go grab a beer. Anyone want anything?” Chris recovered, smooth enough not to raise suspicion if you weren’t within range of the anxious energy radiating from him. Soon, he stepped away from the table with everyone’s requests and escaped to the kitchen, leaving an empty chair in his wake. My eyes dropped to meet Robert’s across the space Chris had been occupying, just as wide with worry as I imagined mine were with eyebrows nearly through the roof. 
“I’ll make sure Chris doesn’t fuck up that tall order,” RDJ said with an effortless nonchalance I envied, clasping his hands together as he stood. He turned to me with peaked eyebrows as he added, “Why don’t you join us, kid? Takes a few actors to screw in a lightbulb.” I accepted Robert’s outstretched hand and trailed behind him, following Chris’s footsteps until we found him bent over the kitchen island, fingers gripping the quartz so hard his knuckles were white. “Why does it have to be such a big fucking deal, huh?” he spit cynically. Chris’s face scrunched up with furrowed brows and a tight lip as his eyes, firey with misplaced rage, burned holes through Downey. “Seriously, please enlighten me. Why does everyone else who isn’t a part of this relationship give such a massive shit about it?” His voice stayed quiet as to not raise the others’ suspicion, but by the strained veins in his neck and steely look in his eye held his anger instead. 
“In and out, buddy,” Robert said as he clasped a hand on Chris’s shoulder. “You know those bozos didn’t mean anything by it.” Chris snapped that it wasn’t about that, that this was much bigger than them, and I knew he was right. “That’s the problem,” he growled. “Nobody means anything by it, they’re just trying to get clicks on their articles or attention on Twitter or laughs at our expense without stopping to think the kind of shitty strain it puts us through.” Chris slammed the beer he’d grabbed on the countertop hard enough that, if it’d been opened, it would’ve created another mess for us to clean up. He was turning red and I could almost hear the tea kettle coming to a boil in his stomach, the steam ready to burst from his ears. I don’t think I’d ever seen Chris so mad.
I stayed glued to the entryway, holding my own hand behind my back as I rolled from my heels to my toes. I watched Chris nervously, not exactly sure what to do or how to help. Really I was the cause of the problem. How could I possibly offer a solution? And then, as much as I hated myself for even thinking it, the only way to fix this occurred to me. 
“We could split up, you know,” I proposed so quietly I hoped that between Chris’s angry ragged breath and Robert’s attempts at rationalizing with him they wouldn’t hear me. But they did. Their eyes snapped to me as Chris’s face fell, his eyebrows furrowed and his mouth hung open, all softened by sadness. RDJ threw up his hands, shooting me a look with wide eyes and tight lips as if to say he already had enough to deal with sans me joining Chris on the ledge he was trying to talk him down from.
“Don’t say stupid things like that,” Chris scolded with a shake of his head. His shoulders sagged from their previous position taught with anger as he slipped into a state of confused heartache. He could deny it all he wanted to, but that was the only way I saw out.
“Well, I certainly don’t want to but...” I bit my lip, searching for the courage to continue with Chris giving me pleading puppy dog eyes worse than Dodger’s. “But this is just too much. All of it, all of the articles and speculation and hurtful things being thrown our way because of our relationship, it’s overwhelming.” Even when he was puffed up with rage before, I felt smaller now. Measly compared to the giant bumbling toward me as he shoved past Downey, wrapping huge arms around me like a shield, though I wasn’t sure who he was trying to protect at this point. 
“You’ve got enough on your mind with your career, any relationship is a lot. Let alone one with our age gap. I know how much you hate the things people say. I just... I think we need to quit while we’re ahead and end on good terms before you start hating me, too. And if it’s what’ll make you happy then-” I spoke into his chest though I was sure he could hear me loud and clear, words suddenly snowballing out of me, gaining strength as the momentum grew with every tumbling syllable. I had to spit them out before I couldn’t. Before I changed my mind and picked what was selfish instead of best for Chris’s sake. And then he cut me off.
“Darling, I told you to stop talking nonsense. You make me happier than anything,” Chris was quiet with calm now, his angry energy redirected to dragging me back to earth when I felt so far away from him. “I could never ever even imagine a world where I felt anything less than love for you,” he paused to press a long kiss onto the top of my head before speaking again. “Let alone because of some stupid rumors and the opinions of people who don’t matter to me a fraction as much as you do.”
I melted into Chris, relishing in the way he radiated the excitement of an entire football stadium just when their home team scored the winning touchdown. How he smelled of deodorant I didn’t think anyone else wore and the liberating, fresh air of the mountains when you’re the only one there and something I still couldn’t identify anywhere else that wasn’t in his embrace. It was just Chris. And the way his beard scratched my skin as he nuzzled into the crook of my neck, the fact that I didn’t mind was so uniquely Chris as well. In fact, I’d miss it. He pressed gentle kisses into my collarbone as he rested his forehead on my shoulder, little wishes that I’d take back what I’d said. I was ready to push him away and tell him that this had to be it when it occurred to me just how much I’d miss him, but I couldn’t keep putting Chris through all of this stress just for me.
“I mean it,” I asserted though it was half-hearted, tears buried finally rising to the surface. I knew I had an ocean of them waiting inside of me, tossing and turning with my tumultuous emotions, but I had to stop the tide from rising. At least until Chris wasn’t around anymore. “We need to break-“
“No,” Robert finally cut in, dropping a gentle hand on one of each of our shoulders. “No, you don’t. Don’t say the b-word,” he repeated like he was trying to ease us out of a trance. Pity laced the soft circles he rubbed our backs. I turned to look at him, keeping an ear to Chris’s chest to prolong the comfort I found in the steady thump of his heartbeat. “The second you allow the public eye’s gaze to start changing your relationship is the second you lose yourself to this job. I can’t stand by and allow you two to lose each other too,” Downey continued, though his soft eyes stayed on me. 
Then he turned to Chris with a harder look of determination, really trying to drive his point home. “Anyone who knows you at all, Evans, knows that you’ve been looking for something like this for a long time.” I felt Chris’s grip tighten around my waist, not nearly ready to let me go any time soon. I knew Robert was right. Even though I hadn’t known Chris for all that long, we got along better than I did with anyone else before. It was like we’d known each other forever even when it’d only been a few weeks and I figured, with Chris’s age and his eagerness to settle down, he’d been waiting even longer than that. “Don’t let it slip away because of other people’s opinions.” Chris nodded against my shoulder, still holding me close as if I’d run off, which I guess I tried to. “If you can’t follow your heart and tell anyone else who has something to say about it to fuck right off thank you very much, then I don’t know who could,” Robert finished with a confident smile. I thought it was funny, like he was trying to make it rub off on my boyfriend. 
Chris nodded, hesitantly at first and then faster with more assuredness as what his friend said sunk in. “Now, get it together and realize that you’ve got a solid foundation with each other. I’ll be damned if you let it crumble over Mackie and Sebastian being dumbasses.”  Robert smirked at us, his usual sly spark returning to his eye. “Start thinking with these a little more,” he paused to poke Chris’s chest just above his heart. “And using these a little less,” Robert said as he tapped my temple. 
Chris stretched an arm around Downey, pulling both of us right to his side. “Thanks,” he breathed out, almost like a sigh of relief. “Don’t know what we’d do without you,” I told Robert, patting his shoulder with gratitude. “Yeah, yeah,” he brushed us off, pulling away from Chris’s embrace as well. “Tell me how much you love me later.” He took a few steps toward the fridge and started pulling out cans of almost everything under the sun, somehow miraculously remembering what everyone ordered when Chris wasn’t even paying attention despite being the one who asked. “We better get all these drinks out there before there’s a riot,” he said, grabbing as many as he could and sliding the rest to Chris and I. “Or worse,” Robert paused dramatically, shoving the fridge closed with his hip. “More jokes.” With that, he turned and left Chris and I standing alone in the kitchen. 
Chris rolled his eyes as he turned to me, reaching for my hand. He played with my fingers for a second, watching our hands as they pressed against each other one digit at a time, before locking them together. “You know I love you a whole lot more than how mad I am at everyone else,” he said with more sincerity than I thought he could muster. It seemed to be all the honesty the world had to offer. I grinned a smile that stretched so far it made my cheeks hurt even more than the blush burned as I nodded and said with just as much integrity, “And I love you even more than that.”
Chris reached to wipe the remainder of my tears with his thumb as he shook his head and drew in a tight breath, feigning contention. “I don’t know about that. It’s like, so much for someone who was about to end things a minute ago,” he joked. Chris gathered so many drinks in his arms there weren’t any left for me to carry. 
I stretched to flick his ear anyway, all but stomping my foot in protest. “I love you a hell of a lot, Evans. So much I was about to end things for your own good,” I argued with a pointed look even though it was pointless. He already knew my heart hadn’t been in it, the problem was that I’d been listening to my head just like Downey said.
He jostled the cans so they all sat in one arm before slipping his free hand into the back pocket of my jeans. “Let’s go show the world just how much then,” Chris laughed as he bent down to press a kiss into my temple, happy to still be by each other’s sides as we joined the rest of the Marvel cast.
Tags: @patzammit , @thegetawaywriter , @coffeebooksandfandom , @captainsteveevans , @intrepidandabitcrazy , @super100012
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ryan-spinel · 5 years ago
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CHAPTER TWO
“Perri's Letter and Spinel's Revenge”
It was another boring day at school. Today I avoided Steven and Connie, at least until things cool down. Now Perri and I are walking to her house, later going to see Lexi. I suggested we go right after school, but poor Perri had a meltdown when that phone addicted bitch Sophie teased her about liking Lexi. Saying “A spaz like you can't date someone like Lexi Joel. You have a better chance at hooking up with your catnapping psycho of a friend.”
I would have said “go fuck yourself and stuff your mouth with a dumb jocks cock.”But I kept silent to avoid more trouble. Even though she's a threat to my relationship with Steven, she went too far attacking my wittle buddy. After today, she will pay.
“So. How you feeling bud.” I comforted
“A little better Spinel, thank you, for walking with me.” Perri lamented
She didn't seem any better, so I stopped walking and placed my hands on her shoulders. She jolted a little bit, she does that when someone touches her without her knowing, I need to stop doing that.
“Perri, please don't worry about Sophie. She will never bother you again.” I reassured Perri
“You don't know that Spinel, you can't just make her disappear.” Perry doubted
The truth is I can, and I will.
“Just, please trust me okay. She won't hurt you anymore.” I asserted, starting to get annoyed
“I-,hmm. Okay Spinel, I trust you. Now can we please go to my place.” Perri faltered, noticing me getting annoyed.
Even though Perri and I been friends for a while, there were times I lost my shit. One time in elementary 5, Perri had this cute green alien head chewy. Back then Perri would chew on the collar of her shirt, so Brooklyn got it as an alternative. Later, a boy by the name of Ronaldo ask if he could play with it. Perri didn't say anything, she looked away from the fat little shit. He started to get annoyed and grabbed her arm. When I saw tears running down the poor kids face, I said. “Don't touch my fucking friend, she doesn't want to share. So piss of you bitch-ass comic book reading fat pussy.” After I stand up for my nerdy buddy, the little shit started to ball his eyes out. So I got detention for the weekend, and then Grandmother Whitney put a bar of soap in my mouth. She's an amazing Grandmother, but if you push her buttons she can be a mean old hag.
We finally arrive at Perri's place, it's a cute little cabin-like house. With a more rustic style unlike my home, a traditional Japanese minka. Once we walked to the door, we were greeted by the outgoing Brooklyn Fitzgerald. A fierce and friendly soul, who looks out for her friends. She works as a lumberjack at the local saw mill, fell in love with the stubborn lawyer Pearl Harpor and once one first place in the wood chopping competition at the county fair. Brooklyn was always that person you feel comfortable around, she is a great role-model for Perri and always wants the best for her. She's like the cool aunt I never had, and the only adult I feel comfortable around that isn't my family.
“How you doing kids, I made a tray of onigiri for an afternoon snack.” Brooklyn greeted
“Thanks mom, we're here just to get a bite to eat, spinel and I are going to a study group at the library.” Perri replied
Perri doesn't lie often, but she's surprisingly good at it. It's scary if you think about it.
“Well okay Perri, but remember. Always have your phone, come back home before six, and don't walk in Black Hawk Clan territory.” Brooklyn directed
“Well of course mom.” Perri acknowledged while to two of us walk inside
Their house interior was like one of the those shacks in the movie Friday the 13th. Brooklyn kept it very well maintained, she may be a lumberjack but she's a amazing carpenter.
“I'll be back Spinel, I'm just getting some things from my room.” Perri called, going to grab the letter
“Alright Perri.” I concurred while eating some homemade onigiri
“So, umm. Spins, how's Perri doing.” Brooklyn worried, she's not always the serious type. But when she is, you need to listen and shut up.
“She's, okay. Why do you ask?” I denied, having a good feeling what she's going to say.
“I got a call from the school, saying that Perri had a meltdown.” Brooklyn took a deep breath and continued. “Spinel, I know your aware that Perri is a little different than the other kids. She thinks in a different way and does things differently.” Brooklyn fretted
“I think you are aware of this Spinel, but Perri has Autism.” Brooklyn said looking that she's not finished speaking.
I was aware that Perri isn't like other kids, that why I like her. I love that she would ramble on and on about robotics, AI and Elon Musk. I love that she has that burning passion to expand her learning, even if it's just one topic. In a way, Perri's like a little sister to me. I love her because she's unique, not mediocre like those bimbos at school. She's her own person and doesn't follow a crowd.
“There were many incidents that kids would tease her because she's on the spectrum. They would tease her for being jumpy, they would pick on her because she wouldn't play with the other kids. And let's not forget the time a student grabbed her over a god damn chewie.” Brooklyn bawled, on the verge of tears. Even someone as strong as her can feel defeated sometimes.
“I'm scared spinel, I'm scared that my little girl will get herself hurt. After the diagnosis her father couldn't take it and left. Saying that he wanted a normal child with a normal life. Pearl has a hard time dealing with Perri sometimes, but she still cares about her. All I ask is Spinel, please look out for her.”
“Brook, things won't be like this forever. There's a lot of people with autism and live great lives. Overtime they grow and learn how to cope, Perri's still a kid. She's going to be an amazing person one day. Building robots or something. The point is that sometime people outgrow these problems, it's sometimes doesn't bother them or they cope with it. Your very lucky to have a daughter like Perri. You just have to remember that every successful person had those days that they want to give up. But they keep pushing until they reach their goals. Just like Perri.” I monotoned
“You maybe right Spins, Perri has been growing up. It just seems like yesterday she didn't need her chewy anymore.” Brooklyn hoped
“See, everything's going to be okay. Sophie won't bully her anymore, I promise.” I concluded
“Alright Spinel, lets go to the library now. ” Perri intrupted
“Be safe girls, look out for one another.”
It took us 30 minutes by bus to arrive at the Black Hawk clan's main nest, I don't know why they would call it a nest but whatever. Their nest was a giant old warehouse outside of town, it had a barbed wire fence all around the headquarters. Like those fences you see in prisons. There was a giant chain link fence for the entrance, two bikers were guarding it carrying AK-47s.
“Yo what the fuck, you can't be-, ohhhhhh. It's the catnapper. What business do you have with the Black Hawks.” Thug one marveled
“Is that what they're calling me now, it was psycho bitch last week. We don't what any trouble, we just want to see the road captain.”
“Wait are you talking about, Lex. Hah,well Spins, we can't let you just see the road captain. You have to talk to the founder first, she decides not us.” Thug two announced
“Oh for the love of god.” I whispered to myself
“Well, can we see. Fucking, Jasper or someone.” I badgered
These biker act so tough and fearless. But really, their just a bunch of leather-wearing douches.
“Ahhhhh, if it'll make you shut the fuck up then sure. ” thug one complained
The two annoyed thugs opened the gate, Perri and I walk cautiously into the nest.
Inside the warehouse wasn't any better than the outside. On the left side, there was a bar with tables, chairs and stolen arcade game machines. The right side was their business operation, with safes, factory equipment and a security system. Every biker gang has their source of income. It can be drugs,weapons, cigarettes or anything valuable on the yami-ichi.
The Black Hawks are the kingpins in the drug industry, but they don't just sell any type of drug. They created their own drug that is booming in the Japanese black market. It's called Menohoyō, meaning eye-candy in Japanese. Menohoyō is made just like regular eye-drops, because it is eye-drops. The only reason why it's addictive and illegal, is because it's made of 45% of diethylamide. A main chemical component to make LSD. There's been cases all across the world, reaching places like Brazil, United States and even Russia. There has been many gangs and drug cartels trying to replicate this drug, but all of them failed. Today, the Black Hawks dominate the drug industry, even bribing politicians to keep their business running. It's greasy business, that's why I want Lexi to get out when she still has the chance.
In front of us are the three masterminds of the whole operation.
Jasper Alder, the founder of the gang. Sitting on an old puke green recliner and smoking a five inch Pyramid cigar. She was born in Tokyo and was a target for bullying because she has vitiligo. Due to the bullying she became a mean bitch, once she broke a kids arm because she called her giraffe. Later in life, Jasper got into bodybuilding and motorcycles. Causing her to follow the wrong crowd. She got involved in a lot of crazy shit involving rival gangs. Once she turned twenty-three, she created the Black Hawk Clan. She called it that because one day, her father and her were hunting hawks. A giant common black hawk attacked her father and scratched his throat, causing him to bled to death in the middle of the woods. Jasper manage to shot the hawks wing and flew off. For three nights she was searching that hawk. Later found it on the ground near an old Japanese Wisteria. Jasper chose not to put the bird out of its misery, instead she watched it bled out for three minutes. So long story short, she's twenty-five and runs a drug cartel now.
On her left was the president of the clan, Eleanor Monsoon. She was Jasper right-hand gal, those two used to rob gas-stations when they were teens. Eleanor was also known for her great grandfather being in the Imperial guard divisions during WW2. That's where she gets her fierce comanding attitude.
On the right was the Vice President of the clan, Persephone Windsor. Nothing to special about her, all I can say is she's a snobby bitch born in a very rich family, she supply's most of the equipment and weapons. She's a narcissist and a manipulator who will destroy lives to get her way.
“(Puffing a smoke) Well, I didn't expect to see the pip-squeak and the catnapper today. ” Jasper snarled while inhaling on her cigar.
“Let me do the talking Perri, I got this.” I whispered to Perri
“Hi Jasper, hows the gang and so. Also can we talk to Lexi.” I urged, trying to convince the butch
“(Puffing a smoke). Well Spins, if you have business with the road captain you have business with me. Now spill the beans crazy.” Jasper chided
“It has nothing to do with.Business. We want to see Lexi, because-”
“Because I want to get to know her better, and hopefully she'll get out of this dirty, greasy motorcyclist club you call a business.” Perri interrupted me and dared Jasper
Thanks a lot Perri, we're fucked.
“How dare you, a worthless pest like you speaking to the founder like-” Persephone chastised
“Wait. Hold on your saying you want to hangout and bond, with the black hawk clan road captain. Out of all the nerds at your snobby school. You choose an angsty, hot-headed, with drugged up parents and possibly slept with more guys than you know how many bones are in the human body. So tell be spaz, what makes you think a nerd like you, can ever be with someone as fucked up as Lex. Because honestly, you can do better.” Jasper insulted
I saw that Perri was starting to get upset, but instead being sad, she got mad.
“You, you don't know anything. How dare you talk to someone like that, your not any better you, you, you f-f-fucking clod.” Perri exploded
It would take a tiny miracle to get us out of this shit.
However, the three bikers looked at each other with confusion. There was a silent pause, until.
“...............Haaaahahahahahahahaha.hhaaaaaaahaaahahahaahahahahhaaaahahah.” The three clan leaders burst with laughter
Perri expression turned back to sadness, trying to hold in her tears.
“Hahahaaahhaa, is,haha, is that the best you got tiny,hahhahaha. That's fucking pathetic, hahaha. Oh look at me, I WUV Lexi, hahaha.” Jasper mocked
I could see Perri starting to sob, I wanted to say something but that would be a suicide mission.
“Perri and Lexi sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-” the three clan leaders laughed and mocked
“What the fuck is happening, it's like a fucking circus in here. ” Lexi interrupted
Thank God she's here
“Perri, Spinel. What are you guys doing here.” Lexi gasped
“We were going to see you, until these donkey's stop us from doing so.” I explained
Lexi then turned her attention to the brainy-baby.
“Hey, hey, hey. Perri, my dude. I'm here, it's okay.” Lexi tried comforting Perri
“(Whimpering) it's good to see you again rockstar.” Perri sniffled
“It's good to see you to buddy.” Lexi sympathized
Lexi then turned her attention to the three douches
“What the fuck did you three do.” Lexi accused
“Lex, know your place. You do not bark at me, or I'm sending you back on the streets like the runt you are. ” Jasper retaliated
“Well I guess you have to put be back on the fucking streets, because no one talks to my friends like that.” Lexi condemned
It warms my cold heart to see Lex care so much for Perri, it's so sweet.
“Ah you fucking bitch, alright. You can see your, friend now.(inhaling on her cigar).” Jasper said in defeat
“Come on Perri, is there something you wanted to tell me.” Lexi adviced
“One second Lexi.” Perri protested
She turned her direction towards me, running up to me and giving me a hug. It was a tight hug, like a bear hug.
“You are the greatest friend in the world, I'm so lucky to have met you.” Perri chirped
I still didn't understand this platonic affection, this is the second time in a row, and I don't feel anything. My heart feels heavy and silent, there's no emotion. Why am I like this.
But to make her feel better, I hugged her back.
It lasted for 3 minutes, everyone in the warehouse was staring at us. But I didn't care, as long as she's happy.
She finally let go and walk towards Lexi, both of them waving goodbye to me. I guess it wasn't such a bad day after all.
“Hold on Spinel, just a minute.” Jasper asserted
I spoke to soon.
“Even though I'm letting your friend hang with the road captain, you still have to do something for me in return. ” Jasper decided
“Jasper. I can't be your drug mule.” I stated
“Don't worry your panties off, your not delivering drugs. I've chosen something that you may like. Do you know Sophie Turner.” Jasper explained
“What about her.”
“She hasn't been paying her IOU's for the Menohoyō's she's been buying for her parties. She keeps saying “My dad is rich, I'll get your money, stop bugging me, bla bla bla.” So because of her I'm losing money, she's my top buyer in Akuma no tochi. So what I need you to do is, take her out.” Jasper offered
Well isn't that pure irony.
“I think I can do that Jasper, but I'm going to need some equipment.” I demanded
“Sure, anything. You just can't tell the clan was involved.” Jasper added
“I need a hacksaw, trash bags, bleach, cleaning supplies, nails and the key to the saw mill.” I listed
“Done. Go to our SGT at arms, Ruth. She'll get you what you need. Remember Spinel, this never happened.” Jasper concluded
Once I reached the exit, a familiar voice called out for me.
“Spinel, Wait. I want to talk to you!”
Well what do you know, I thought Ryan was the last person who would talk to me here.
“Listen Spinel, I did some thinking and wanted to apologize about yesterday. I took my frustrations out on you, it was wrong. I should have never called you runner-tits, your a beautiful, smart girl. One day, some very lucky guy will meet you. I'm sorry.” Ryan apologized
I didn't expect someone like Ryan to say that, it took a lot of guts to admit something like that. I respect that.
“I forgive you Ryan, no hard feelings.”
“Thank you Spinel, I'll let you go now. But remember, the Black Hawks have your back.” Ryan thanked
“Your welcome, I'll see you around.”
It is time, time to give that bitch what she deserves. Good thing I didn't give all that birthday cake to the meow-meows.
I finally arrive to Sophie's place, no ones home but her. I have everything I need to silence her for good. And it all starts with a piece of cake.
I walked to her door and placed a small pink box on the doorstep. I knocked on the door and hid behind a bush.
“Hello, is some out there. Justin you better not be fucking with me.” Sophie cautioned
“Oh, what's this. (opens the box) aww, it's a piece of cake. I guess Justin isn't a dick after all. ”
Sophie picked up the cake from the box and went back inside, without locking the door. I quietly snuck in behind her, when I found out that she took the bait. I always make the best cakes, thanks to Momma. But for this special occasion, I added my secret ingredient.
I saw her take the first bite, then the second, and finally the third. Until she took her fourth bite.
“Mmmh mhhhh- ACK,ACK. Gahh. Barf.” Sophie said while gagging and puking blood
That's right, the secret ingredient os nails. I placed a couple of small nails in the sweet-treat, hoping it would tear her esophagus apart.
“Aww, did poor wittle Sophie bit off more than she could chew.” I teased her while kneeling down beside her.
“Who's a spaz now bitch. I would have came for your ass later. But you had to pick on my wittle buddy. That's one step to far.” I rasped
I looked at her in disgust while watching her struggle to breathe. This was the first human I ever killed, I'm tired of releasing my pain on cats. Taking them from their owners, putting them in a bag, and slamming that said bag onto the concrete floor! Who ever knew inflicting pain on someone like her can feel so, pleasurable. Reliving. The pure horror in their eyes fills my desire, my desire to butcher these whores that stand in my way. I shouldn't have done this sooner.
“ACK ACK ACK, gahh. Fuck youu, you psychotic cun-(pukes blood). Barf. Huff, puff, huff, puff. Huff...ack....ack...ack.........ah.” Sophie cried her last words.
“Just so you know, it's homemade not store bought.” I joked
Well that took longer than I expected. I had to saw her in ten part, bag them, clean the floor, bleach the floor, dispose any evidence, take the body parts to the saw mill and shred them up. I also had to burn my cloths as well, at least I brought a spare set. But it all ended smoothly. I got my revenge, and now only five more rivals to go. Perri can now see Lexi anytime, I hope they worked out, they'll make a cute couple. Even though school sucked ass at least it ended on a positive note. Now time to go home, and great my amazing famil-.
“Hey. Spinel.”
Okay who could that be.
I turned around wanting to know whose behind me. And oh fuck I wish didn't. This day was perfect for Perri and I, and she's the last person I wanted to see, God damn it!
“Hello Spinel”
“Hello. Connie.”
To be continued
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kittae · 6 years ago
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Roles Reversed (M)
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Pairing: Kim Taehyung x reader
Side characters: Min Yoongi
Summary: A drabble series where Taehyung is a successful artistic erotica actor but has to expand his areas of expertise in the rapidly evolving world of adult film. Lost and inexperienced in everything that doesn’t involve classy settings, flattering lighting and romantic scripts, he basically has to start from scratch to make it in the online porn community. As a highly demanded A-lister in that community, you take him under your wings (or better yet, between your legs).
Genre: Smut, fluff, a bit of comedy here and there. Maybe some angst, who knows.
words: 2240
Warnings: Rated M, graphic descriptions of sexual content, degradation, orgasm denial, foul language, cunnilingus, spanking, filming of pornography
« previous — next »
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“I won! Yes!” You cheer, throwing your arms in the air and the controller with them before it lands onto the soft cushions of the couch you’d placed yourselves back in front of.
Taehyung’s thrown off for a second, surprised you’re going completely off script from the very start, but quickly remembers to play along. The crew doesn’t seem as confused, almost as if they’d been expecting it. He decides to pay it no mind, only focusing on his job at the moment.
He puts on a cute pout, eyes glaring at you from underneath their lashes. Since you’re the one who won, he figures he should follow the role you were supposed to play, right? The sore loser.
“Didn’t you just cheat, though? I noticed you using dirty tricks to get a headstart!” Taehyung whines, hoisting himself up on the sofa and crossing his arms and legs.
A low chuckle slips from your lips as they curl in a mischievous smirk. “Dirty?” You join him on the cushions on your hands and knees, purring teasingly into his ear, “How dirty exactly?”
Taehyung keeps his face neutral, though he’s trying very hard not to grin when he realizes which direction you’re taking this. You’re a talented actress, alright.
“Downright disgusting,” He holds your gaze as he tests the waters and holds his breath until you break out a wide grin, silently encouraging him to go on, “Does your brother know you lie and cheat to get what you want?”
“My brother doesn’t know anything… and I’d like to keep it that way,” you murmur, a finger coming up to trace the line between his naked pecs, “You’re not going to tell him, are you?”
“Tell him what?” Taehyung feigns ignorance, “He’s my best friend, we tell each other everything.”
“I only cheated to win because… Because I was hoping you’d punish me for it.” You confess, big puppy eyes and with your bottom lip between your teeth, looking the embodiment of guilty innocence. Taehyung can’t keep his hard cock from twitching in excitement within the limited privacy of his shorts. The thin fabric doesn’t do much to hide the growing bulge.
“Punish you?” He repeats, long fingers reaching out to gently caress your neck. The touch practically has you keening already, your back arching and undoubtedly giving the rear cameras a golden close-up of your pretty ass sticking out doing so.
“Yes, please… I’ve been such a bad girl, don’t you think?” You ask breathlessly, one hand coming between his crossed legs, your arm grazing his erection briefly and instantly making him shiver. Your soft breasts push against his shoulder when you move to nip at his earlobe, before whispering, “Bad girls should get spanked. It’s what I deserve for deceiving you, hm?”
You smile, genuinely giddy when you pull back only to splay yourself over his lap, ass ready and in the air, waiting. Taehyung’s large hands grope your cheeks, kneading them like fresh dough and coaxing a soft moan from you already. The light blue, flimsy shorts color darker between your legs where you’re getting wet for him in anticipation.
Long fingers hook themselves around the waistband of your shorts, effortlessly sliding them down the roundness of your ass and letting them bunch around your thighs. He selfishly takes a moment to admire the glistening treasure between them; your pretty pussy all slick and swollen for him already. He’d like nothing more than to touch it right now, to drag a single finger through your folds and watch them open up to reveal more of your sticky wetness. Fuck, it takes every piece of willpower in him not to skip the spanking so he could dive in and stuff his face between your legs right this moment. His mouth waters at the sight.
A playful wiggle of your ass tears him out of his trance, a pout marring your pretty face as you crane your head to look at him over your shoulder. “Taehyung, if you don’t punish me for my disgusting behavior, how will I ever learn to be a good girl?”
He gulps, looking at the smooth and beautiful skin of your ass, so inviting. He’d be lying if he said he doesn’t want to smack it, and hard. But he’s never had to inflict pain on any of his co-stars before. Is this really okay?
“Tell me what you did to deserve getting your ass spanked, ___. Why do you deserve to be punished?” He inquires, hand gently stroking your right cheek in circles.
“I’m a cheating bitch, playing dirty to win!” You confess, followed by a gasp when the flat surface of his big hand collides with your soft flesh and a loud slap echoes through the studio.
“You’re a cheating bitch.” He repeats, the words rolling off his tongue more easily than before. You have to suppress the urge to praise him, so you focus on the delightful sting on your skin instead. “What else?”
“I-I asked you not to tell my brother even though you’re best friends. I’m a selfish whore, Taehyung!” You can’t hide the excitement on your face, teeth biting down on your thumb not to cry out in pleasure when a second, more vigorous slap finds the swell of your buttcheeks.
“A selfish whore too, huh? You disgust me, ___, ” He insults you almost effortlessly now, even sounds like he’d dare enjoy it! “What else did you do?”
“Yes, yes! I’m s-so disgusting!” You nod eagerly, arching your back and sticking your ass out further, the burn only increasing with every touch. “I tricked you into punishing me for my own wicked pleasure because I’m a dirty slut!”
It’s quiet for a couple seconds when he gets reminded of his earlier blunder where he failed to call you that. A minor wave of anxiety washes over him, the apprehension of actually having those words come out of his mouth momentarily paralyzing him. This is the moment he needs to gather his courage. He’s already come this far, he can’t go back now!
Not one, not two, but a sequence of three sharp slaps hits your sensitive bottom so intensely it has you shifting forward from his lap and crying out louder with each strike. They sound more like delighted chirps (honestly after your bondage series with Hoseok, a few spanks aren’t going to make you cry), which make Taehyung grow more confident in his ability to pull this off—as well as in his pants.
“I’m not sure a few spanks are enough to punish dirty sluts like you, ___,” He forces himself to go through with it, though it proves to be less difficult than the first time he’d tried.
“Yes, you’re right…” You agree, starting to sit up and shift your weight on your knees, ready to take his cock out of his shorts and finally get a taste of it.
He instantly stops you, a hand coming to grab your wrist. “It’s not a punishment if I let you do something you enjoy, right?”
“W-what?” Your eyes grow wide and he knows you were not expecting him to go off script on his own initiative, nor that he’d flip you on your back to tear your shorts all the way down.
You completely misread his intentions, hooking your legs around his hips and locking him between your legs. “You know, having you fuck me is exactly what I wanted to get out of this so this isn’t exactly a punishment either.” You tease, not particularly minding this turn of events.
Taehyung says nothing, instead he grins and throws your legs over his broad shoulders. This is what he knows he can do well and since you’re improvising, it’s time he’d gain back some mojo.
His face is between your thighs immediately, reversing the roles you were supposed to play. You’d be choking on his gorgeous cock right now, have the head nudge the walls of your throat until he’d blow his load and you wouldn’t swallow anything, saving some to let it drip down your lips and chin for a good close-up. That’s if you’d followed the script. There’s none of that in the way he completely devours your pussy like a starved man, but with the precision of a chef decorating a plate. His tongue knows precisely where to add pressure, his lips sucking around your little nub not too hard or too soft, but just right. His sizable fingers introduce themselves before long, starting with one digit smoothly slipping inside of you to tickle your impatient walls, clenching around it to keep it there. A second joins and you feel the slight stretch added to the heavenly pleasure he inflicts with his mouth, having you see stars in record time.
You’ve had some skilled co-actors, that’s the least you can say. But Taehyung? It’s like his sole ambition in life is to make you come within a minute and with the pace he’s going, you’re damn sure he’s about to succeed. Such skill, you’ve never encountered ever in your entire life.
“C-come, I’m gonna come! T-Taehyung, I–” You gasp for air, your hands desperately tugging at the blue strands on his head, back arching and body thrashing in response to the rapidly approaching climax.
Right before you’re about to let go and come so hard you’re sure you’ll be groggy for some time after, he stops all movement. The orgasm never comes and it quickly ebs away, leaving you with an empty and disappointed feeling. It would’ve been a powerful orgasm and not fake at all!
You’re about to protest when Taehyung shuts you up with his lips on yours, his tongue licking into your mouth and making sure you can taste every bit of your sweet juice he’d greedily lapped up before. You feel slightly dizzy, which is quite unlike you. Usually, you don’t let yourself get too caught up in the moment, rather focusing on your job.
He pulls back with a lewd sound, his tongue sliding over his lips to gather spilled fluids. “Such a sweet cunt for a filthy whore. Did you really think I’d let you come?”
A shiver crawls over your spine before you can help it. Not because you feel offended, but because it sparks sheer excitement in your gut.
“If it’s my cock you want, you can beg for it like a bitch. On your knees.” The words he utters are completely vile, yet his voice makes them sound so sweet. The way he smooths his thumb over your bottom lip is so gentle your brain wants to warp the insults into the loveliest compliments.
“Cut! That was incredible!” Director Lee calls, the crew clapping after his example. “Great job everyone!”
You blink a few times, trying to gain back some awareness of your surroundings. What the hell had just happened?
“Oh, we’re finishing here?” Taehyung asks shockingly innocent. “A-alright…”
A few staff members come running with both of your robes, towels and two bottles of water. As Taehyung covers himself, you can make out the tips of his ears turning red again.
“I’m so sorry if I went too far, I don’t– I don’t even remember what I said, to be honest,” He murmurs, almost too embarrassed to look you in the eye.
You’re perplexed for a second, just trying to process how the same guy who looked like he wanted to quit and lock himself in his dressing room only half an hour earlier did a full 180 on his own without much of your help, only to go back to this. He’s an even more skilled actor than you’d already anticipated.
“It was perfect, really,” You shake your head, a big grin going from ear to ear. “You did so great! I’m just… I’m surprised, that’s all.”
Yoongi appears from between the crew, a wide smile on his face as well.
“Taehyungie, I knew you could do it!” He takes the younger’s face in his hands, squishing his cheeks. “Told you he’s talented! Now, we should probably retreat because I know for a fact someone could use some aftercare after all of that.”
You scrunch your brows in confusion, “I’m okay, I don’t need aftercare for–”
“I’m talking about this one,” Yoongi lovingly pats Taehyung’s cheek, “It must’ve taken a lot out of him to pull that off.”
You suppress a giggle, just because it was too cute to watch your old classmate doting on the actor like this.
“You’re right.” You agree. “Taehyung, you should take a nice hot bath with some bath bombs you like and pamper yourself with your favorite food and a movie or music...or something. That always works for me after a rough shoot.”
Taehyung smiles sheepishly. “Thank you, ___. I’m okay though, I just need to let it sink in, I guess. Was it really okay?” He turns to his manager, “When will it be published online?”
Yoongi purses his lips like he does when he’s guilty of something.
“...Yoongi?” Taehyung asks again, more suspecting.
“It’s not going to be published online,” Yoongi shrugs, “It’s not going to be published anywhere.”
Taehyung looks completely lost. “What do you mean?”
“This wasn’t a real shoot,” you confess, on your lips an apologetic smile, “This was a testing shoot for the seminars Yoongi signed you up for.”
“Seminars?!” Taehyung gasps, looking absolutely betrayed while Yoongi admires the wall behind him.
You guess you’ll have to break it to him.
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Heliotrope masterlist
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babbushka · 5 years ago
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Silver Bells
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Pale (Burn This x Reader) ; 2k
City sidewalks, busy sidewalks, dressed in holiday style
In the air there's a feeling of Christmas
Children laughing, people passing, meeting smile after smile
And on every street corner you hear…
 He doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doin’, out in the city with you like this. Doesn’t know one fuckin’ bit. It’s dark and cold and snowing and he wants nothing more than to just bring you home and make you cry on his cock, but instead you’re walkin’ around with him, hand in hand, arm in arm, whatever. He doesn’t know why you wanna hold onto him like some fuckin’ spider-monkey or something, but. You are.
You are and he doesn’t dare let you go.
You wanted to go into the city. Wanted to go into Manhattan and look at the tree in the plaza, maybe go ice skatin’. There was no fuckin’ way he was going to get on two thin blades and try to balance on a sheet of frozen fuckin’ water, no way. But he’d watch you, if you wanted. He’d do anything you wanted.
The little man on the street-light turns green, and you’re already walking ahead of him, tugging him behind you as he sucks down his cigarette, your hand squeezing his excitedly as you cross the street.
“Is this it?” You ask with eyes wide at the huge display of lights that absolutely covered every available square inch of the buildings that lined each side of the street.
“What, 5th Ave? Yeah, this is it.” He asks, flicks the ash off his cigarette and gives a nasty glare to some schmuck who has the audacity to look at you for too long.
You look good, real good, in your shiny red trench coat that you won’t let him replace, bundled up in a scarf and ear-muffs so you don’t fuckin’ freeze your face off. You turn to glance at him over your shoulder, give him one of those too-warm smiles that makes him sweaty, and he swoops down to plant a kiss to your cheek as the two of you evade getting run down by tourists.
“There’s a lot of people here huh?” You laugh as Pale steers you off to the sidewalk, crowds you up against a light-pole and kisses you nice and proper.
You smile against his lips, still not letting go of his hand, holding his cigarette in the other before flicking the ash and giving it back to him when his tongue starts to get a little too insistent.
“Yeah welcome to Manhattan.” He rolls his eyes and you laugh with a teasing shake of your head, pulling him along the sidewalk.
“Don’t be mean.” You tell him playfully.
“Me?” He asks with mock-surprise, pointing to himself.
Now it’s your turn to roll your eyes and Pale feels his whole fuckin’ chest go warm and fuzzy. Always something about you that seems to heat him up inside in more ways than one.
“Can we go look in the windows?” You ask, already trying to look over the heads of the tourists, trying to see the lights and decorations.  
“No.” He says, and you laugh, and pull him along anyway.
 Silver bells, silver bells
It's Christmastime in the city
Ring-a-ling, hear them ring
Soon it'll be Christmas Day
 Pale walks with you hand in hand up and down the street, lookin’ at all the stores.
There’s mechanical santas and reindeer, moving angels and blinking flashing lights. There’s metal snowflakes that glitter and gleam, snowmen that wave and doves that flap their wings. There’s small figurines and nutcrackers and sugar plum fairies and you’ve got your eyes glued to all of it, like you ain’t never seen any of it before.
He thinks maybe you haven’t, wonders why you’re suddenly so interested in it now.
“Hey you know I was reading this thing in the fuckin’ paper at work that it’s the one-hundredth year they’ve been doin’ this shit? Can you believe that? One hundred years of putting up lights in windows on 5th. Macy’s started it way back in ’84, and it’s ’84 again. I wonder if they ever figured they’d be doin’ it for this long. You know, I don’t get why the fuck we had to come all the way out here anyway, aren’t you Jewish?” He asks randomly.
You pause for a moment, squint your eyes to try and see better, before smiling triumphantly and pointing across the street.  
“Look.” You say smugly, a single solitary window decked out in Hanukkah colors and ornaments, an electric menorah with fake flickering flames proudly on display.
“You planted that.” Pale grumbles, smokes his cigarette.
“Mhm, sure.” You tease, but you are only half-listening, having stopped in front of Tiffany’s of all places.  “Oh, wow.”
You stop in your tracks once again, something catching your eye.
“What?” Pale asks, immediately interested.
He always has such a hard fuckin’ time getting you to want things, nice things, expensive things. You always tell him no, you don’t need it. No, there’s no point to it. No, you’ve got him, and that’s enough. But he wants you to have expensive pointless needless things because he’s got all this money and no one to spend it on and he wants to spend it on you. So you stopping in front of a store and catching your breath with your eyes wide has him already scanning the display for what could have sparked your own interest.
“Nothing, it’s just so…” You shake your head, already starting to walk away.
“Which?” Pale keeps his grip on you firm, plants his feet and stops you from leaving, not giving a shit about tourists who rush around you, the two of you like stubborn stones in a current.
“It’s nothing, Pale, really – ” You say, but he lets a small (the fuckin’ smallest) smile crack at the corner of his lips and he pulls you back close to him, close enough to his side that he can wind an arm around your middle and keep you from running the fuck off somewhere else.
“Which?” He asks again, softer but insistent, and you sigh, point right up to the glass but not touchin’ it. You didn’t like smudged windows, he knew that.
“That one.” You say, pointing to the mannequin right up front.
It’s wearing a deep blue dress, pinned with a golden brooch that looks like a spiral flower. The dress itself is a glittery fabric, and the brooch has diamonds and sapphires on it and Pale can’t get the picture of you wearin’ in out of his head, and he thinks you look damn good, and he doesn’t even bother looking at the tag because he’s going to get it for you no matter what.  
“You been a good girl this year?” He asks cheekily, kisses the corner of your mouth and you grin into his embrace.
“I don’t know, have I?” You ask, kissing him back and searching his gaze.
“Yeah, you have.” He says with a nod, and you can only blush.
Satisfied for now, Pale lets you lead him further and further down the street, off to see whatever else there is to see.
 Strings of street lights even stop lights blink a bright red and green
As the shoppers rush home with their treasures
Hear the snow crush see the kids bunch this is Santa's big scene
And above all this bustle you hear
 You had dragged Pale into John Wanamaker, and are watching the light show. Pale ain’t so sure how it actually works, but there’s moving pictures and lights up on the screen, lights on the tree, jets of water that spray and music that plays and you and he have a perfect fuckin’ spot right on the second level to see how it all changes.
He’s payin’ much more attention to you, as he always is.
“You didn’t answer me earlier.” He says, as he situates himself better behind you.
He’s got his arms around your middle, his chin resting on the top of your head. Your hands have come up to cover his, and you keep tappin’ his knuckles to the beat of the gentle Christmas music.
He thinks it ain’t so fair, that it’s all about Christmas all month long. Ain’t fair to the folks like you who don’t actually celebrate any of it. But you seem happy enough to appreciate the light show, the spectacle of it all for what it all is.
“Hm?” You ask, craning your neck around to look at him.
Pale’s stunned into silence for a moment just because of how fuckin’ pretty you are. The lights have you washed in all sorts of real nice colors, golds and reds and greens and he kisses you because holy shit, how can he not kiss you? You chuckle against his lips but keep the kiss chaste, much to his disappointment.
You’re both surrounded by people and he knows that you know that he doesn’t give a shit about that, would bend you over and fuck you right there. Probably for the best then, that you keep him under control.
“How come you wanted to come today?” He asks, trying to get back to his original point.
You shrug, settle back against his chest and hum to yourself as the snowmen on the screen light up and dance.
“I know you leave to go see the kids in what is it, two days?” You ask.
“Yeah.” Pale replies with a frown, not really wanting to be reminded about any of it.
“I thought might be nice to get you in a decent mood before you have to leave. You know, do all the holiday traditional things here since you ain’t gonna have a traditional Christmas down there.” You say, and Pale really does frown then.
“You wanted this…for me?” He asks, turning you around fully now, his chest doin’ something funny.
He ain’t so convinced that you’re not gonna kill him, with the way you make his chest and stomach do these little fuckin’ flips. His brother the doc told him it wasn’t nothin’ to be worried about, but sometimes when you go pullin’ stunts like this, he can’t help but think he’s gonna keel over with whatever this feeling is for you.
He knows, and you know, you know he knows and he knows you know he knows, what the feeling is.
“I wanted it for the both of us.” You say softly, almost drowned out by the music, before gesturing to the whole thing, the whole ordeal of leaving the apartment and venturing out into the snow, into the world. “But yeah, mostly for you.”
He doesn’t know what to do then, doesn’t know what to say. You’re too good for him, way too fuckin’ good. He wanted to tell you that, wanted to shout it and scream it out loud and interrupt the show to let all of the department store know how you’re the real fuckin’ angel.
But he doesn’t, because he doesn’t know how he could ever recover from that, so he just clenches his jaw instead and wills his eyes not to sting from the sudden wave of emotion that hits him from just that simple gesture, that simple wish for him that you had.
“I wish I could bring you down with me, I don’t like the thought of leaving you up here by your fuckin’ self.” Pale says instead, but he really means, I don’t like the thought of not being with you.
You hear it anyway, and smile sadly, and Pale wants to kill something at the way your eyes are sad like that.
“Maybe one of these years it can happen.” You whisper, and then the show is over, and there’s a thunderous applause, and people start to file out of the department store, off to do their shopping or their packing or their wrapping or who the fuck knows what else.
“Yeah, maybe.” Pale says, holding you tight, not letting you go anywhere just yet, not until he kisses you.
“We gotta cross the street to see the other side. I want a better look at that menorah.” You say when the kiss breaks, and he groans, lights a new cigarette and sticks it between his teeth.
“No.” He replies, but he’s already tugging you along, wanting to give you anything, wanting to give you everything.
You’re too good for him, way too fuckin’ good.
But maybe, just maybe, you think he’s good for you too.
And you do. He doesn’t want to believe it, but.
You do.
 Silver bells, silver bells
It's Christmastime in the city
Silver bells, silver bells, silver silver bells... 
                                                          -----------------
Tagging my Pale lovin’ pals! <3  @fullofbees​​​​ @spinebarrel​​​​ @dreamboatdriver​​​​ @thecurlycaptain​​​​ @bourbonboredom​​​​ @driverficarchive​​​​ @rosalynbair​​​​ @redhairedfeistynerd​​​​ @adamsnackdriver​​​​ @glitzescape​​​​ @adamsnacc-kler​​​​ @kyloxfem​​​​ @fallin-for-youreyes @kylo-renne​​​​ @attorneyl​​​​ @jedihbic​​​​ @bens-rose​​​​ @callmehopeless​​​​ @formerly-anonhamster​​​​ @thepilotanon​​​​ @hippieface​​​​ @tinyplanet-explorers​​​​ @satansstrawberry @riseofkylo​​​ @whiskey-bumblebee​​​ @helloimindelaware​​ @magikevalynn​​ @scheherazades-horcrux​
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magic5ball · 4 years ago
Text
Nature Trail to Hell Arc IV: Megamart of Darkness (9)
Chapter 9: Dropping the A-Bomb
           I just stood there, having no idea what to say or do. It was like looking in a mirror at the grim, jaded hump of crap you know you’re going to be in ten years if the scholarship doesn’t work out. It was a sight that would bring most grown men to their knees, so considering I was a little kid at the time, it was a wonder I was even standing at all.
Yet somehow, I managed to spit words.
“T-the water.” I trembled, “g-give it back.”
He looked at the glowing plastic bottle in his hand. “Sorry kid, no can do. This here’s company property now. But if you want, I’m more than willing to sit down for an adult conversation.”
The way he said those last two words made my blood freeze, no small task when the ‘sun’ was shining so bright overhead. 
He gestured over to an area at the foot of the inflatable volcano, where two plastic chairs and a table rested. On top of the table were several Red Solo cups and a bottle of Crystal Springs Bottled Water.
“Like I said, its’ been awhile since I’ve had company. Besides the Wegmart Company, that is! Ha!”
My feeble ten year old mind struggled to grapple with the fact that someday I would find jokes like that funny. One of the most horrible experiences of my life.
But what could I do? Thanks to stories from my gangster days, I knew darn well what this A-Bomb was capable of, and I wasn’t really in a position to take chances. So I followed him to the tables, trying not to think about how Bokrug should have been here by now, despite his lumbering movements.
Naturally, I didn’t make a peep. If there’s one thing I learned from comic books, its’ best not to set these friendly-lookin’ types off.
When we did get to that table, first thing the guy did was offer me some of that crisp, refreshing, bottled water. Though the heat from the lava made it really tempting, I knew I’d never be able to live with myself if I did.
“Suit yourself, kiddo.” He said, pouring a cup of his own. “We aren’t that different, you know. In fact, you’re a lot like me when I was little…”
On the outside, I stared like the teacher was about to bring the whipping stick. On the inside, I wanted to scream, because long talks with my Dad had taught me where this was going.
                                                      .   .   .
“When I was your age, I also went to a Summer Camp, it was called Camp Salmon or something like that. Anyway, the counselors running the camp were mean. Like, really, really mean, so the second I could I dashed right on out of there and into the woods. Sound familiar?”
Naturally, I didn’t say a word. Throat was too parched, anyway. A-Bomb laughed.
“Oh who am I kidding?! Of course it does! I know because Wegmart has surveillance cameras everywhere!”
He pressed something under the table, and from the ground emerged a device made from a bunch of big screen T.V.s hastily duct taped together, several flashing images of my adventures over the summer. The rest showed the frozen foods aisle, where my feathered allies were getting ‘ahem’, ‘cleaned up’ in the most gruesome way possible.
“Like you, Watterson Tostig, I went into the underworld and escaped. I too, was inducted into a gang of dinosaurs. I, too, became God of Roadside America. But at the end of the day, guys like us have to settle down and face reality. Wegmart saved me, kid, and if you’re willing, it’ll save you too.”
All that time, I didn’t turn away from the screen. I couldn’t.
“I thought I could spend the rest of my life hiding in the produce aisle. But I was foolish back then, a rogue vagrant eating grapefruit peels. Until THEY rescued we. The founders of Wegmart took my withered ghost and showed me the way to love, happiness, and most importantly, low, low prices!”
Yeah, yeah. The low, low price of a human soul!
“I was weak at first, but the kind folks at Wegmart saw my talents as a brown bagger and before I knew it, I had my own private toothpick in the faculty room! After that, they put me into production.”
Here’s the thing about young me being stoic: even at the best of times, he was kinda bad at it. Sometimes I even wonder if he had some kind of attention deficit. Not saying little me cocked an eyebrow at the mention of ‘production’, but he looked at me like I did before he went on yammering again. 
“Oh yeah! You’re not in the know of company business. Right!  See, our store used to have a 3D printer they would use to take the employee of the month and just clone him until they had an entire staff of the perfect worker! And yours truly has held the position for ten years!”
Ever since I was young enough to confuse Wegmart with Disneyland, I’d always noticed how all the brown baggers looked the same. Suddenly, everything made terrible, terrible sense. But worse was the realization that, just like those cereal box sweepstakes, the empty, dotted line cutout of a man could have easily been me!
“Shame they recalled the printer. Something about lead based ink. Or the clones having higher than normal rates of cancer. Really, I just signed the paperwork. But enough of the sad stuff, Watters! Let’s talk future! Because I’ve seen you in action and man, you’re just the kind of spunk to breathe life into this company!”
Least, I think that’s what he said. Bokrug’s running tardy was really nerving me up.
“So join me, Watterson! And let us rule the Wegmart like manager and employee!”
“No.” I whispered.
“Eh?” A-Bomb cocked an eyebrow, like he’d never heard the word in years.
And with that, I could stay silent no longer. The anger, the one that’d been boiling so steadily I me like the giant volcano we sat at the foot of, went full Krakatoa!
“Are you deaf, poophead?! I said NO!. And you know why? Because all you did was make a giant self-pity sob story for yourself, because you think that if you can drag me down with you into this Megamart of Darkness, you’ll feel better about stealing water from a bunch of geese! I’m pretty sure you could have gotten some from Rite Aid if you were willing to play fair!”
“Rite Aid doesn’t sell-“
“My point is, you’re just jealous of me because I’m not a cog in the machine like you! And that ‘we’re so alike’ bullcrap wouldn’t work on a five year old! So no, I won’t join you, because I might have sold my soul to a Tako Shak, but even I have stinking standards, you self-pitying TURD!”
A-Bomb stared at me, mouth agape for a few seconds. “T-the T-word?...”
“You heard me right, TURD!, so you better let me go unless you want more of the same! I’ll even tell my Mom, and you really don’t want to see her when she’s angry!”
“No, no, I get it…” he pushed a button under the table.
Another hole opened in the ground, and from it emerged what I can only describe as a nuclear missile made entirely of fuzzy orange Shampows.
“Your friends and family are holding you back, little bro! So how about I sweeten the deal: you join me, and I don’t rain Shampow down on your entire neighborhood!”
I tried to move, only to find myself stuck to my seat. Literally. The son of a snitch must have superglued the thing beforehand!
“So, do we have a deal?”
I didn’t say a word.
“Do. We. Have. A. Deal?”
Now I might have been a bit of a turd back in the day, but darn it, I couldn’t let an entire neighborhood get wiped from existence! Especially when the neighbor hadn’t even returned out lawnmower yet!
“Okay! Okay! I’ll join you! I’ll be your whipping boy. I’ll even stock Barbie dolls if I have to! Just don’t press hat button!”
And you know what the prick did? He kept putting his finger closer and closer to the launch button!
“But I thought you said you wouldn’t do it if I joined!”
“Foolish Watt! Your petty loyalties to the neighborhood make you weak! We must purge this from your mind so you can know true Wegmart! Just like my manager did to my neighborhood!”
But you know what the worst part was? He said this using the most condescending, prickish voice I could imagine.
Still, one thing needed clearing up.
“Hey A-Bomb? What was your neighborhood?”
Guy didn’t say a word, but the way he shut up after that spoke plenty.
“… They called it New Jersey.” He whispered.
I rolled my eyes, knowing full well it might be the last time I ever express sarcasm. Of course!
Time slowed to a crawl as I waited on the imminent destruction of everything I ever gave a crap about. Oh, I tried to see things from the half full perspective, but not even the knowledge my douchebag brother was probably going to get caught dab smack in the middle of the detonation zone passed out on the couch watching teen drama reruns could compensate for everything. At least A-Bomb was taking his sweet time pressing, probably so he could rub it in more.
In fact, he was taking a lot of sweet time. (Granted five minutes is pretty long for a ten year old, but still!) Then I noticed he was pressing the detonation button multiple times, each time faster and more flustered. I looked up, wondering if the Lord himself had intervened on behalf of little old me, even after everything. 
In fact, my salvation had come in the form of a certain goose, who grinned triumphantly, a plug and wire in his beak, machine gun cradled in his wings.
“Bokrug!”
The noble bird spit out the plug, beaming with triumph despite being so plucked of feathers he was practically naked. A-Bomb was, on the other hand, for the first time since I saw him feeling something other than calm, collected, or several other words you find in yoga advertisements. His face turned so red I figured he’d explode any minute, just like his namesake.
“YOU!” he leapt up from his seat, facing down the glorious gander. ”I had ONE chance to find happiness! ONE chance to have somebody to share this miserable job! Years of planning, plotting, scheming, and with one bite you ruined it!” He unsheathed those golf clubs from his back. “Do you know what its’ like to run a store with only clones of yourself?! With everyone knowing exactly what you do?! Its’ so, so BOORIIINNGGG!”
“Then perhaps you should have found a happiness that did not require the suffering of another.” He bared his beak, bits of Wegmart technology still stuck in them. “Or technology easily damaged by the humblest of beaks.” like he was emphasizing the point, he cocked the machine gun, maing probably the world’s most satisfying click. 
“Who do you think you are, my Mom?!” He spun his golf clubs around, making a combination of kung-fu poses and noises that could only be described as either really stupid or really racist. Possibly both.
“Bokrug-kun! You have brought great dishonor upon my house. Prepare to die!” he cried in the phoniest Japanese accent I ever heard.
“I’m Egyptian, you a$$hole!”
With a guttural roar, the waterfowl from hell charged in kind, raining bullets like hellfire.
It was the awesomest f*cking thing I ever saw.
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psychovigilantewrites · 6 years ago
Text
Baby Bird
Pairing: Jason Todd/Reader
Genre: Smut
Word count: 2,240
Summary:  Reader catches Jason angrily jerking off after a fight.
Jason and I had a fight.
I just came back from my date with my best friend, Ray. I’ve known him since middle school, and was practically my only friend. He walked me to the door of the manor after our dinner and movies, and made a move.
He kissed me, and I reciprocated. He was an amazing kisser, mainly due to the fact that he was sweet, but at the same time his hands were rough. One hand was gripping my waist to push me into his crotch, grinding his hard on onto me. His other he used to squeeze my ass, bunching up my short skirt in the process.
And then Jason opened the door.
He ripped Ray off of me and tried to punch him in the face. I threw myself over Ray to stop him.
“I’ll fucking kill you if you don’t get the fuck out of here right now,” he growled.
Poor, terrified Ray dashed away from me and head back to his car, driving into the dark.
I turned to Jason, fuming.
“What the hell, Todd!” I seethed.
“He had his filthy hands all over you!” he yelled.
“And I let him put his hands over me!” I snarled, walking past him and into the manor. I turned around once I heard him slam the heavy wooden door close, and crossed my arms at him. “And I liked it.”
Oh, Jason. He looked livid. His fists were clenched and his shoulders were tensed up. I could see him slightly shaking in anger. For some reason, he always came in between me and my dates. He hated seeing me interact with guys he didn’t know, especially because I get touchy with them once I was comfortable.
Dick and Tim were protective too, but not to this extent. They would size up anyone I brought home and attempted to scare them a bit, but they never laid a hand on them.
“I like it when a guy takes charge, and kisses me roughly. I like it when they snake their hands under my skirt and squeeze my ass. I love it when I can feel their hard, wanting dicks against me, Jason,” I smirked. I loved riling him up, because that was the only way to shut him up.
As suspected, he slammed his fists against the wall- no doubt leaving a crack in the wood- and left to his room. I sighed.
Now that he had left, I felt guilty for provoking him like that. He was just trying to look out for me, like any older brother would. Truth is, on normal days, we get along very well. I was the only one he would show affection to. He loved hugging me, and peppering me with kisses on the forehead, and cuddling with me while we watched TV. And I loved the attention I got from him.
I cared about him. Just as much as he cared about me.
I head up to my room, energy drained. I could see the light coming from Jason’s room, which was directly next to mine down the hall. I made my decision to apologize to him and walked over to his door and raised my knuckles to knock, only realising now that his door was ever so slightly ajar. I paused before knocking, hand up in the air, contemplating on whether he needed to be alone or if I should try to talk to him. Before I could decide, I heard a soft moan coming from inside.
My eyes widened in surprise at what I thought I was hearing. I knew it was wrong, but I turned my head to put my ear nearer to the gap. I could hear wet sounds and heavy breathing.
“Fuck,” I heard him say in a loud whisper, followed by a groan. Immediately I clenched my thighs together, aware of the heat that shot straight in between my legs. I willed myself to move away from the door, aware that I was invading his privacy.
“Mmmm, baby bird,” he groaned. I froze. He always called me that because I was the youngest Robin. Could he be thinking of me while he was pleasuring himself? Was that why he was so upset? Because he was jealous that someone else was touching me in the ways he wanted to?
All my morals was set aside now. I needed to see it. I knelt down to my knees, trying to be as silent as possible, and spied from the small crack. He was lying down on his bed, his head propped up with a couple of pillows. The expression on his face didn't look like someone who was in pleasure, but it looked like he was angry, frowning with his eyes closed and red lips slightly parted.
My eyes trailed downwards to his tummy and saw that his tight white shirt was hitched up a bit, revealing the V that dipped down. His sweatpants were bunched around his knees and his fist was violently fucking his long, hard, swollen, glistening cock.
“Fuck you, fuck you, I wanna fuck you so bad, princess,” he rasped, jerking his fist down on his member with every enunciated ‘fuck’. Princess was another pet name he gave me.
I bit my bottom lip and put my hand down my skirt and panties, not surprised at the sheer amount of slick that had suddenly gathered. There was no doubt that he was thinking of me, he never called anyone else that. Hearing him say those things in a desperate, depraved growl made me hold back a whimper as I slowly circled my sensitive nub. He was now muttering things I couldn’t hear, but I so desperately wanted to. Hands still working on my clit, I leaned forward a little more to get closer.
I lost my balance, and tried to support myself by pressing a hand onto the door, but due to the fact that it was already open to begin with, I only pushed the door wider, falling right into his room, breaking my fall with my unoccupied hand.
I was on my hand and knees, staring up in shock and embarrassment at Jason who sat up straight and tugged his pants up again.
He looked at me with wide eyes, panic clearly evident, until he saw that my other hand was still down my panties.
I don’t know what came over me, but I couldn’t move. I was frozen in that position, even when Jason stood up and walked towards me, now towering over me.
“Baby bird,” he drawled. “Were you spying on me?”
I looked down to avoid his gaze but didn’t reply, still stiff and in shock.
He knelt down and put a hand on my chin, tilting it upwards so I could meet him in the eye.
“Baby bird. Were you spying on me?” he repeated again in the same, low and husky voice.
I nodded.
“And were you touching yourself?”
I tried to look away, but he stopped me, waiting for an answer.
I nodded again slowly, heat rising in my cheeks.
He smirked, and then took my shoulders in both of his hands and pulled me up on my feet with him. I quickly removed my hand from in between my legs, temporary paralysis now gone.
“Jason, I-I’m so sorry. I didn’t m-mean to. I came to apologize and- and-”
“Lie on my bed, princess,” he demanded.
“W-what?” I sputtered.
“Bed, doll. Now,” he urged.
I gulped and went to sit on his bed while he closed and locked the door. He turned around and looked at me with hooded eyes. I recognized that look, but never was able to place it. He gave me that look a few times in the past. Once, when I was doing yoga and happened to be in a happy baby pose, I didn’t notice he was watching me until I was finished. Another time when I was sucking on a popsicle. But all those times, as soon as that look came, it disappeared.
It wasn’t disappearing now.
He crossed his arms and walked towards me, positioning himself right in front of me, so that my face was facing his crotch that had a rather large tent.
“I thought I told you to lie down?” he raised an eyebrow at me.
I followed his instruction and relaxed myself onto his bed.
“Good girl,” he smirked. “Now take off your clothes.”
My eyes widened at his request, but for some reason the authority in his voice was making me so much wetter than I was before. I took off my skirt, and then my blouse.
“All of it, baby,” he spoke in a low growl.
I slowly took off my bra, and then slid out of my panties, blushing hard at the sudden exposure.
Jason just looked at me, eyes hungrily taking in all of me.
A sudden confidence sparked inside of me and I cautiously brought my knees up, legs planted on the bed, and spread my legs. I cupped my pussy.
“Fuck,” he gasped. “Spread that pussy for me, sweetheart, don’t hide from me.”
I did as I was told and used my middle and forefinger to spread my pussy lips wide.
“You’re soaking,” he choked. “Touch yourself.”
I brought my other hand to my clit and started circling again. I heard him groan, and saw him tug down his sweatpants, freeing his cock. Now that he was up close, I could see how massive it was. It was mouth-watering.
“Jason!” I gasped. “It’s bigger than I imagined.”
“You’ve been imagining it, then?” I blushed.
“Tell me, baby,” he spoke while he started to slowly stroke himself up and down. “Have you ever imagined me fucking you?”
If I said no, it would be a lie. I had my fair share of dirty thoughts about him, and I would touch myself, trying hard not to think of him, but failing miserably. I always felt a wave of shame crashing onto me whenever I came with his name on my lips. I wasn’t supposed to think of my older brother that way.
“Do you think of your older brother fucking you, sugar?” he rasped.
“Yes,” I moaned.
“And do you fuck yourself while you think of me, baby girl?” he groaned.
“Every time, Jay. I try not to, because it’s wrong, because I’m your sister, but I can’t help myself,” I whispered. “I use all those other boys to give me a sense of what I couldn’t have.”
“You never had feelings for them?” he asked, his hand now still on his cock.
“No, not how I have feelings for you,” I admitted. “But this is wrong, Jason. We shouldn’t-”
“Does this feel wrong to you, princess?” he cut me off by suddenly rubbing his tip in between my pussy lips.
“Oh,” I moaned.
“Do you not want this, little wing?” he positioned himself at my opening, body leaned over me with his hand beside my head. I could feel the warmth of his breath fan over my face.
“Jason,” I whimpered.
“Don’t you want me to make you feel good?” he whispered in my ear as he pushed himself inside me. I could feel my cunt stretch painfully to accommodate his size. The pain was immediately taken over by bliss when he bottomed out in me, reaching places I’ve never attempted to reach, making me feel so full.
I moaned again softly, trying not to make noise.
“I want to hear your pretty voice, baby doll. Everyone’s in the cave, they won’t be coming back up anytime soon,” he told me as he pulled out slowly. I could feel my walls clinging onto him. He stilled before his tip was out of me. “So you’d better fucking scream,” he growled and slammed himself into me suddenly.
And screamed I did, as he pummeled my pussy.
“You feel so fucking good, sweetheart. You’re so fucking tight,” he gasped as he fucked me raw.
“Jason- Jay- fuck!” I moaned loudly at his words, making my pussy flutter.
“You like to hear your brother talk dirty to you, princess?” he groaned. “Fuck, I should have known how naughty you are.”
The pleasure was unimaginable, he kept on hitting the right places, saying the right things, and just like that I was already on edge.
“I can feel you clenching tighter on my dick, baby. You gonna come soon?” he asked and I nodded violently.
“Then come, for me baby. Come on my cock,” he said as he fucked me faster and harder, slapping his balls on my ass. The sweaty, wet sounds we both made drove me deeper and deeper into ecstasy.
I felt the heat at the bottom of my stomach and tingles at the soles of my feet, spreading throughout my body,making me feel tighter, and it all came crashing at once, my walls spasming on his dick, my back arching into his body, his name a long scream.
He swore, and pulled out, spilling himself on my stomach and chest. He put his forehead against mine and was panting, with his eyes closed. He kissed me softly, but deeply. I could feel his emotions from that kiss, his wordless gratitudes, and his silent adoration and comfort. He broke the kiss and I could feel him smile against my lips.
“Bruce is going to fucking kill me.”
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daryls-dixon-antoni · 5 years ago
Text
Chapter 32.) The Day will come when You won’t Be
Negan laughs, "Did you hear that? He said, 'Suck my nuts.' Phew." He continues laughing before continuing hitting Abraham again and again, we can see Abraham's brains leaking from his crushed skull.
Negan looks at his bat and laughs, "Oh, my goodness! Look at this!" When he turns around blood splatters onto Rick's cheek, but Negan is still laughing as he continues, "You guys, look at my dirty girl!"
He walks over to Sev who is straight up bawling and shoves his bat in their face, "Sweetheart, lay your eyes on this. Oh, damn. Were you? Were you together? That sucks. But if you were, you should know there was a reason for all this. Red; and hell, he was, is, and will ever be red. He just took one or six or seven for the team! So take a damn... look." Sev glares up at Negan so Negan yells, "Take a damn look!"
Out of the corner of my eye I see Daryl stand up and I immediately scream, "Daryl!"
He goes after Negan, and some other man goes to tackle him as I continue screaming his name.
Rick goes to get up also yelling Daryl's name.
Daryl is pinned to the ground as Negan points his bat at Rick and shouts, "No!" Affectively haulting my groups movements.
"Oh, no." He chuckles. "That? Oh, my! That is a no-no. The whole thing; not one
bit of that shit flies here."
As he approaches Daryl I beg quietly, "Please, please, please!" I feel every shaky and uncontrolled breath forcing their way out of my body causing me to shake.
He looks at me, his bat right next to Daryl's face. I watch Dwight move forward, pointing Daryl's crossbow at him and ask, "Do you want me to do it? Right here."
Negan pulls Daryl's hair back before saying, "No. No, you don't kill them not until you try a little."
Dwight helps two other men drag Daryl back into his place and I feel the sob break through my body.
Negan stands back up, "And anyway that's not how it works. Now, I already told you people; first one's free, then. Then what'd I say? I said I would shut that shit down! No exceptions. Now, I don't know what kind of lying assholes you've been dealing with but I'm a man of my word. First impressions are important. I need you to know me. So," he glances at his bat then says, "back to it." He turns and swings the bat into the top of Glenn's head. I gasp, hear Maggie cry, "No!" brokenly.
When I see Glenn, his face is covered in blood, the middle of his skull is indented, one of his eyes are bulged out of his head and he's gurgling and gasping.
Negan bends over in front of him, "Buddy, you still there?  I just don't know. It seems like you're trying to speak, but you just took a hell of a hit. I just popped your skull so hard, your eyeball just popped out, and it is gross as shit!"
I watch, horrified as Glenn looks at Maggie, and gargles out, "Maggie, I'll find you." We can hear Glenn gasping for his every breath.
Negan turns to the rest of us, "Oh... Oh, hell. I can see this is hard on you guys. I am sorry. I truly am." Hope fills me for a fleeting second, before Negan continues, "But I did say it.No exceptions!"
He goes back to beating Glenn's head in. I want to look away, look away from watching Glenn's brains splatter around his skull, look away from the blood. But my eyes are glued to the scene of one of my closest friends being literally beaten to death in front of me. In front of his pregnant wife who is sat next to me.
"You bunch of pussies," Negan says, another hit. "I'm just getting started." Another. And another. And another. When he's done, Glenn's head is pulverized. He's unrecognizable. Hell, he doesn't have a head anymore.
"She is a vampire bat."
He's met with silence, well for the most part. I can hear the people around me crying, gasping for quivering breaths.
"What? Negan asks. "Was the joke that bad?"
"I'm gonna kill you," I hear Rick whisper, hoarsely.
"What? I didn't quite catch that. You're gonna have to speak up."
Rick sniffles, then says confidently, "Not today, not tomorrow; but I'm gonna kill you."
Negan inhales sharply threw his teeth, "Jesus. Simon what did he have, a knife?"
The wood man replies, "Uh, he had a hatchet."
"A hatchet?" Negan asks, grinning.
"He had an ax." Simon clarifies.
Negan laughs, "Simon's my new right-hand man. Having one of those is important. I mean, what do you have left without them? A whole lot of work. Do you have one? Maybe one of these fine people still breathing?" He pauses, "Oh.
Or did I," he clicks his tongue as he moves the bat. When no one says or does anything, he says, "Sure. Yeah. Give me his ax."
Simon approaches and just as he reaches us, Sev gets up, kicks Simon, and before anyone can get them back down, I watch in horror as my best friend swings the axe back into their own skull.
I hear screaming, and it takes me a minute to realize it's my own.
I'm kicked in the back and ordered to shut up, as Negan stares down at my best friend's lifeless body.
"Well shit, that woman knew when to pull an exit, huh?" He's grinning as he turns to me, "She your new lover? That's the kind of scream a girlfriend would let out."
"Fuck you," I breathe out, tears spilling over and down my cheeks as I glare angrily at the man in front of me.
"I didn't kill her, now did I. Besides, is that anyway to address your boss?"
I glare at him in silence, and finally, he turns back to Rick saying, "Simon, the axe."
Simon rushes to remove the axe from Sev's skull and hands it to Negan.
Negan puts the axe in his belt before grabbing and dragging Rick to the RV saying, "I'll be right back. Maybe Rick will be with me. And if not, well, we can just turn these people inside out, won't we? I mean the ones that are left." He closes the RV door behind him.
I curl in on myself only to hear Simon order me to kneel up straight.
I take a deep breath square my shoulders and kneel up straight.
I keep my eyes ahead of me, pointedly not looking at the gore in front of me. Bite my quivering lip and refusing to break down any further. When I take each painful, shaking breath I remind myself how lucky I am that my children are not here with me. That Mason didn't see the man responsible for his sister's death murder his  adoptive aunt and uncle, murder his mentors... I glance over to Daryl after a while and see that he has his eyes fixed on Glenn's body, the haunting look in his eyes bringing a new rush of tears to my eyes. I gasp out a new sob and have to pull myself back together once again. When this is all over I'll have to be here for him. I'll have to be able to take care of Daryl.
The suns been out for a long time by the time the RV pulls back in front. And it's a while longer before Negan tosses Rick out of the RV, axe in his hand. "Here we are. Let me ask you something, Rick; do you even know what that little trip was about?" Rick stays quiet. "Speak when you're spoken to." Negan demands.
"Okay," gasps Rick. "Okay."
"That trip was about the way that you looked at me. I wanted to change that. I wanted you to understand. But you're still looking at me the same damn way like I shit in your scrambled eggs, and that's not gonna work. So do I give you another chance?"
Rick is on his hands and knees, practically rocking the way I used to when I was a kid. He gasps out, "Yeah. Yes. Yes."
Negan pats him on the back and stands up straight saying, "Okay. All right. And here it is. The grand-prize game. What you do next will decide whether your crap day becomes everyone's last crap day or just another crap day. Get some guns to the back of their heads."
We hear guns being cocked and I feel the gun on my head and I stay as still as possible.
"Good. Now level with their noses, so if you have to fire," he imitates an explosion with his hand and mouth, "it'll be a real mess."
He looks at Carl and says, "Kid... right here." He points next to Rick, but Carl doesn't move, just stares at Negan. "Kid... now." Carl stands up and walks over. Negan starts taking his belt off and I feel my insides squirm. He can't. Not after all this ... he can't...
"You a southpaw?" Negan asks.
"Am I a what?" Carl snaps.
"You a lefty?"
"No."
"Good," Negan says, while wrapping his belt around Carl's left arm. "That hurt?" He asks.
"No," Carl responds.
"Should. It's supposed to. All right. Get down on the ground, kid, next to Daddy." He flips Carl's hat off. "Spread them wings."
Carl lowers himself face down on the gravel, arms spread.
"Simon," Negan asks. "You got a pen?"
"Yeah," Simon responds, tossing Negan a marker.
Negan bends down, opening the marker. "Sorry, kid. This is gonna be as cold as a warlock's ballsack, just like he was hanging his ballsack above you and dragging it right across the forearm." He starts drawing a line across Carl's arm, right below the makeshift tourniquet. "There you go. Gives you a little leverage."
"Please," I hear Rick beg. "Please," Negan looks Rick dead in the eye as Rick begs. "Please don't. Please don't."
"Me?" Negan laughs. "I ain't doing shit." He stands up, "Ahh. Rick, I want you to take your axe; cut your son's left arm off, right on that line." Rick stops. "Now, I know, I know. You're gonna have to process that for a second. That makes sense. Still, though, I'm gonna need you to do it, or all these people are gonna die. Then Carl dies, then the people back home die and then you, eventually. I'm gonna keep you breathing for a few years, just so you can stew on it."
Michonne's voice breaks our silence, "You-you don't have to do this. We understand. We understand." Her voice is quivering.
"You understand. Yeah. I'm not sure that Rick does. I'm gonna need a clean cut right there on that line. Now, I know this is a screwed-up thing to ask, but it's gonna have to be like a salami slice; nothing messy, clean, 45 degrees. Give us something to fold over. We got a great doctor. The kid'll be fine. Probably." He bends back down, "Rick this needs to happen now; chop chop... or I will crush the little fella's skull myself."
"It can- It can- It can be me. It can be me. W-W-" Rick takes a shaky breath, "Y-You can do it to me. I c- I can go with-with you."
"No," Negan says, standing up. "This is the only way. Rick pick up the ax. Not making a decision is a big decision. You really want to see all these people die? You will. You will see every ugly thing. Oh, my God," He groans. "Are you gonna make me count? Okay, Rick. You win. I am counting. Three!"
"Please," Rick begs, brokenly. "Please. It can be me. Please!"
"Two!" He bends down.
"Please, don't do-"
Negan smacks Rick, then grabs his face, saying, "This is it." He stands up and shouts, "One!"
Rick is sobbing but I hear Carl saying something, but am unable to make out the words.
I watch breathlessly as Rick picks up the axe and raises it but Negan bends back down stopping him; and saying, "Rick. You answer to me. You provide for me. You belong to me. Right?" Rick nods, taking quick sharp breathes. Negan grabs his face again and shouts, "Speak when you're spoken to! You answer to me. You provide for me."
"Provide for you," Rick gasps.
"You belong to me, right?!"
"Right..."
"Right," He lets go of Rick's face and points at him as he stands up, "That is the look I wanted to see." He takes the axe. "We did it; all of us, together; even the dead guys on the ground. Hell, they get the spirit award, for sure. Today was a productive damn day!" Negan sighs, "Now, I hope, for all your sake that you get it now. That you understand how things work. Things have changed. Whatever you had going for you; that is over now. Ah. Dwight load him up." He points to Daryl.
"No!" I whisper. "No please."
"Rick, get her under control." Negan demands.
"Anne, shut up." Rick says, brokenly.
I glance at him, before watching them pick up Daryl and shoving him into the back of a truck, watch as he moves almost like an animal about to be caged; eyes on me as the doors close.
"He's got guts. Not a little bitch like someone I know." I look over to see Negan kneeled by Rick. "I like him. He's mine now. But you still want to try something? 'Not today, not tomorrow.' 'Not today, not tomorrow'? I will cut pieces off of... Hell's his name?"
He looks up at Simon who says, "Daryl."
"Wow," Negan laughs. "That actually sounds right. I will cut pieces off of Daryl and put them on your doorstep; or, better yet, I will bring him to you and have her," he gestured to me. "Do it for me."
He laughs, standing up, "Ahh! Welcome to a brand-new beginning, you sorry shits! I'm gonna leave you a truck. Keep it. Use it to cart all the crap you're gonna find me. We'll be back for our first offering in one week. Until then ta-ta."
The Saviors gather up and leave, and I curl up into a ball on the ground, listening to the movements around me.
After a while of silence, Maggie stands up.
Rick starts repeating her name, after a moment stands up and says, "Maggie, you need to sit down. Maggie."
"No," she snaps.
"We need to get you to the Hilltop."
"You need to go get ready."
"For what?"
"How can you ask that?" I ask him, standing up as well. I'm disgusted by the shakiness of my words. "We're going to get back at them, right?"
"They have Daryl," Rick explains, softly. "They have an army. We would die; all of us."
Maggie sobs, "Go home. Take everybody with you. I can get there by myself."
"You can barely stand up," Rick says.
"I need to go. You need to go to Alexandria." She takes some deep shaking breaths, "You were out... out here for me."
"We still are."
"I can make it now. I need you to go back. I can't have you out here. I can't have you all out here anymore. I need you to go back."
Michonne approaches her, gently, "Maggie we're not letting you go. Okay?"
"You have to."
Rick sighs, "It's not gonna happen."
Sasha gets up, "I'm taking her. I'm gonna get her there. I'm gonna keep her safe." she looks at Maggie, "I'm not giving you a choice."
"I'm taking you with me," Maggie sighs.
I watch Sasha approach Rosita and then I see her cry.
Aaron approaches Maggie and she says, "I need to do this. Please."
"We need to help you," Aaron reassures.
Carl approaches her and puts a hand on her back, "I got it. I got it."
"No. No."
"Pl-Pl-Please let us," ask Rick. "He... He's our family, t- He's our family, too."
She stands up and sobs into Carl's shoulder.
We start gathering up our dead, burying them at Hilltop. This is something I know how to do. Burying the dead is something I'm now good at.
And when I say goodbye for the final time to Sev, my tears have dried up.
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feynites · 6 years ago
Note
Could I prompt for some more Thenvunin and Uthvir stuff, pretty please? Don't care which AU!
Sure, Anon! I don’t think I ever posted anything for the Fox & Tengu AU that @pyrrhy and I speculated on a while back, so have some of that maybe?
Also, if you haven’t seen it, @pyrrhy’s gorgeous art for it can be found here, and here, and NSFW art here and here <3
Warnings for smut, some heat-cycle dynamics (not A/B/O), and the sort of take on Japanese folkloric beings that’s vaguely in line with modern anime and fantasy, but only kinda waves at the actual folklore.
Thenvunin’s home inside the Spirit World is not an elaborate place.
For a Fox of his age, it is… well. Not typical. It signals his lack of personal success and power, which can in turn make him something of a target. So Thenvunin does not often bring outsiders here as guests. The boundaries of his household do not extend far beyond a small garden, with a single decorative pear tree. Beyond that there are only visible wisps and clouds of ephemera, denoting the walls that separate it from the rest of the Spirit World, and from the mortal realms, too.
If Thenvunin were to accumulate more power, he could make his household bigger. He would be able to afford servants and attendants, even. The households of some Foxes his age rival the estates of grand nobles in the mortal world.
But not Thenvunin’s. Thenvunin’s own is small, without many walls or external wings. The bedroom is partitioned off from the main room by a simple screen. There are no servants; there would be no space to house them, and truthfully, no real need for them to attend so small and humble a building. Thenvunin would honestly never bring guests here, but…
There are times when needs must.
And in the fog of his rut, he can scarcely think clearly about left or right. Up or down. He does not think twice, when Uthvir finally falls upon him, about wrapping his tail around them and summoning his fox fire to carry them both to his home.
His Tengu suitor flaps their wings once, in surprise. But then they seem to realize what he has done, and only look around curiously for a moment. Thenvunin hardly wants them peering at his house, though, and so he grasps them firmly and draws them inside. Away from the small garden and its lone, sad tree, and past the interior screens, to the single mat placed upon the bare floor. They might as well get it over and done with. Thenvunin has found it is better to have a partner for these things, even with the costs to his dignity. And even if said partner is the sort of disreputable spirit he would be repulsed by, in a better frame of mind.
Uthvir still pauses, anyway, and looks around. Taking in the sparsely decorated walls. The lights are all Thenvunin’s own doing. Well, the doing of his presence, anyway. He does not have to focus his magic on keeping the fox fire in the sconces burning. They just draw on the natural energy of his presence, and fill the house with a glow like moonlight.
With a snap of his fingers, he deliberately puts them out.
“I did not bring you here to snoop,” he says, as his tail lashes in agitation behind him. His skin is all but burning, and he has been hard for long enough already. He is aching, and the potions he took to help ease the way have been in effect for three hours. More than enough time to settle in. He opens up the front of his robe, and frees more of his pheromones into the air between them. In the dark, he can still see Uthvir’s nose twitch.
“I cannot see you very well,” they tell him.
“You can see well enough for this,” Thenvunin insists.
Uthvir finally turns back towards him, and moves a little closer.
“Oh?” they say. “And what precisely is ‘this’? Do not tell me you brought me to your home with lustful designs on my person!”
Thenvunin’s face heats with embarrassment as much as arousal. That low tone of their voice is absolutely infuriating. The way it makes his nerves spark and sinks right down to his loins, it is absolutely ridiculous, they must be putting some kind of spell or affectation on but he cannot see how, and in his current state of being it is all he can do to not pounce. His tail betrays him anyway, of course. Unruly thing. It presses up against the side of Uthvir’s leg.
“Do not feign ignorance,” he growls at them. “Your designs on me are clear enough. And needs must; so you are in luck, Tengu. In this state, I can scarcely resist even you.”
“Stop, stop, the flattery is too much,” Uthvir drawls. Their eyes glint in what little light from the outside makes its way in through Thenvunin’s moon-shaped window. And their wings nearly fill up the room, as their nose twitches again, and they finally press him down to the sleeping mat below them. Their fingers find his belt. Thenvunin leans back and closes his eyes, braces himself for the inevitable rush of ripped clothing and scratched thighs, for the sting of their teeth against his skin, the press of their cock to his backside. His heat never makes his lovers gentle, and Uthvir has been free enough with their teeth and claws in their past trysts. If a noble and disciplined warrior like Sethtaren could not keep his head during Thenvunin’s cycle, he knows that some disreputable Tengu is going to tax his healing powers.
Uthvir undoes his belt with their fingers. They inhale sharply as his full scent strikes them. His tail keeps brushing up against them. Thenvunin feels their breath caress his skin, as they press a kiss to his collarbone. He braces for the press of teeth, but there is only the hot, wet slide of their lips and tongue. They taste him, trailing slowly down his exposed chest, as their hand push his clothes out of their way. His robe ends up bunched around his arms, until Thenvunin summons enough prescience to sit up a little and fling it away. His skin feels too hot for it. It feels too hot for anything, but somehow the molten press of Uthvir’s mouth is a relief.
And then they keep heading downwards. Their wings still filling up the room, as they hitch up his hips, and spread his thighs.
“Just get on with it!” Thenvunin growls. He cannot - he can’t - in this state he cannot help himself. He opens his eyes in the same moment that Uthvir closes a hand around his shaft and licks the head of his cock, and the sight of them wrings a gasp from his throat. His tail curls up and wraps around their shoulders, and draws them closer as they look directly at him, and gradually swallow him down. Taking him into the same wet heat that had gently marked his chest. But this time, he can feel the points of their teeth. Just faintly. Teasingly.
He smacks his hand against the bedroom wall to steady himself, and lets out a sound that would only ever escape him in throes of his rut.
 ~
 Uthvir had heard about the reputation of Foxes, of course.
It is not an easy reputation to avoid hearing about. Though Uthvir generally also makes it their business to know virtually everyone’s reputation, insofar as they can. Foxes are known for their promiscuity, of course. They have sex magic and trickery. They can addle the minds and cloud the thoughts of mortals and weaker spirits, and like the moon, they are subject to cycles. They are renowned for being the best of bed partners. Catching one in the heights of their most lustful stage is considered equal parts fortunate or, if one is not particularly powerful or careful, dangerous.
Thenvunin is by far the strangest Fox that Uthvir has ever met.
They have been puzzling for months over this strange, self-contradictory, fickle, prickly Fox, who may or may not be seducing them. If all his odd behaviour has been part of a ploy to catch their attention, then Uthvir would consider it a job well done. But somehow, they do not think that is actually the case.
Still, the reputation of Foxes seems to maintain some merit, as they do not think they could possibly resist Thenvunin right now. Their jaw is sore from four rounds of sucking him off, and their fingers are tired from thrusting inside of him. But with each passing moment he seems to lose the last of his prickly reservations. And the scent of him, the sight of him - well. They have been more grateful for their night vision, but only when it saved their life.
They let him come in their mouth a fifth time, and finally pull their lips off of his length. It has not gone down since all of this started, and despite the seed they can taste on their tongue, it shows no signs of softening even now. But any more and they will cramp their jaw, and might do him some harm with the friction, too. Thenvunin presses his hips down against the fingers still inside of him, before letting out a low growl, and flipping himself onto his stomach.
“Enough teasing,” he insists, in a ragged voice. “What are you even doing? Do not tell me you have somehow forgotten how to fuck.”
Uthvir’s mouth goes dry, and their eyebrows fly up. Their own arousal certainly does not need much more of an invitation, as Thenvunin’s tail curls backwards and he presents himself so blatantly. His hands fist into the material of his bedroll. Uthvir takes a moment to shrug off the last of their own clothes - it just seems impolite otherwise, somehow; and they know the two of them are quite alone here - before they spread his thighs wider, and guide themselves to his wet, soft entrance.
“Are you certain?” they nevertheless ask, more teasing than anything. His invitation would be hard to mistake. They part his cheeks with their free hand, and dig their nails into the ample flesh. Thenvunin lets out a growl that turns, in moments, to a whine.
“Please,” he begs.
The word sinks through them and sets them aflame. It makes their wings flare, makes some of their magic actually spark into the air. They almost feel sorry for making him ask, except that they don’t, not really, not ever - the tone of his voice is too scintillating, the call of his desire too enticing. They thrust into him, and he is so ready that they meet no resistance at all. Just slick heat and and a snug channel, that compels them to snap their hips more urgently than they meant to. But their passage remains easy, and Thenvunin’s whine turns swiftly into encouraging gasps and moans, as he rocks his hips back towards their thrusts.
His tail curls over their shoulder. Uthvir grips his hip with one hand, and sinks their fingers into his tail with the other. A whispered spell and some stray motes of magic begin to traverse through the fur of it. Uthvir is not actually versed in sex magic, but they know some spells that are stimulating enough. The little sparks in the fur seem to have a good effect, anyway, as Thenvunin’s gasps turn more throaty, and his hips move more urgently.
The feel of him is just… they cannot bite back a growl of their own as they take him. The rising heat in their own loins bids them go faster. Harder.
Claim him.
They thrust into him until his thighs are trembling, until they need both hands just to keep him up. They do not realize that he has come until they see the spatters on the mat beneath them; and then it is just in time to see him come again, his flushed cock bouncing beneath them as the cheap floorboards creak, and their pleasure builds like a lit rocket.
They fold their wings around the both of them, and hilt themselves inside of him before they come with a cry of their own.
Their vision whites out for a second, their whole body tingling with the rush and pleasure of culmination. It steals their breath. Leaves their throat dry and their limbs trembling, better than it ever has been before.
What in…?
Ah, but, they suppose that would be part of the reputation, wouldn’t it? Sex magic, and all.
Thenvunin makes a soft sound, and they regain enough sense to pull out of him. He growls in complaint, at that. Uthvir snorts back at him, but still takes a moment to check him over. His chest heaves with his breaths - so does theirs, actually - and even his tail seems a bit tired, now, as it flops to the side. And finally, his erection goes down, as they help settle him back against the mat. They would angle for a clean patch, but. Well.
…At least it is all still warm.
“Well that was an experience,” they say. Their own voice sounds low and raspy in their ears.
Thenvunin reaches up, and pulls them down on top of him. In a move they are not expecting in the least. It nearly gets him an uppercut to the jaw, before they catch their own reflexes. But as they freeze in a moment of stalled reactions, the Fox folds his arms around them. He buries his nose into their hair, and sinks his fingers into the feathers at the base of their wings. Their primaries flutter in response. That area is sensitive, and Uthvir has cut off arms for less presumptuous transgressions.
This time, though, they can only feel something in them come a bit loose. Something ragged and ill-treated, as Thenvunin’s fingers brush across the numbed flesh of deep-buried scars, and draw a shiver from them as he parts feathers. The ones that are hardest for them to groom themselves; the ones most liable to itch and ache.
What is…?
They swallow. Thenvunin makes an odd, warbly sort of sound in his chest - not quite a growl, not exactly a purr - and gently pets their feathers.
…Uthvir supposes they can allow it, so long as he does not try and twist or yank them. But of all the things people said of Foxes, post coital cuddling had somehow never managed to come up.
 ~
 The rut builds.
Thenvunin loses all of his senses. Because of course he does. Except for the ones he keeps, but well, they really aren’t anywhere near enough to hold him back from the animalistic call of his urges. His cursed nature. And this time seems stranger than any before, as Uthvir tends to him with appalling thoroughness. Indulging their lusts in a way that… that… that Thenvunin of course can only attribute to their sexual depravity, and wide range of appetites.
They do not even cast him aside when they are finished sating themselves. The first time he thinks they might be doing such a thing, they come back only a few minutes later. Carrying a water jug and two cups, and a plat of preserves he had left here… oh, ages ago, it must have been. But nothing rots here, not unless Thenvunin is injured or dying. He has no desire to eat, but Uthvir still cajoles him into drinking. He no longer has any reservations about reaching for them, though, and after a moment he pushes the tray aside and pulls them to him instead.
“Please,” he says, because the word seems to work so well on them. “Please, please, Uthvir, sweet Uthvir, I need to feel you inside of me again.”
“You need to eat something,” the infuriating Tengu insists, twisting in his grasp. “It has been hours over hours.”
“Time doesn’t matter here,” Thenvunin says. It is a half truth, but not entirely a lie. He licks his lips.
“Oh yes it does. Do not treat me like a mortal,” Uthvir growls. But they also turn towards him, and pin him down. Thenvunin whines and rocks his hips towards them, needy, so appallingly hungry for the feel of them. He would say anything, do anything. He does not resist as they pick up a length of rope from the curtains, though something inside of him quails at the thought of blows and choking, pain and punishment. Another plea escapes his lips. This one slightly different in tone.
Uthvir pauses, and then leans down and kisses his forehead.
“I am going to tie your hands,” they say. “You are getting up to too much mischief with them.”
“Anything you want,” he agrees. “Just please do not leave me again. I need you.”
Uthvir pauses. They look struck, and Thenvunin only has enough mental wherewithal to hope that it is in the good way. He reaches for them again. They catch his hand, but they do not dig in their claws, or hiss a rebuke; or tell him he is pathetic. Instead their gaze softens, somehow. Their hands are firm but not harsh as they bind his arms, and they stop to brush a hand across his cheek.
“I will look after you,” they promise.
He rocks his hips upwards, even as something inside of him almost… eases, at that.
“Please,” he tries again. Why is it not working anymore?!
But this time seems to do it, as Uthvir settles themselves on top of him. Their fingers drift towards his mouth. Thenvunin seizes the opportunity, and sucks them between his lips. Running his tongue over their digits, tasting some sweet remnant of the preserves as they trap him with their thighs. Their flushed cock presses against his own. But his efforts to rock his hips up against them are stymied by the startlingly firm weight of their body atop his own. Their eyes fall to his mouth, and they lick their own lips, before pulling their fingers out.
They drag the tray closer to the both of them. A wriggle of their hips, and the electric heat of their cock pressing to his vanishes as they change shape. Replacing their cock with damp, inviting folds of velvet-soft flesh, that rest snugly against his arousal. The scent of them intensifies.
He twists in his ropes, as it makes his skin heat even more. The urgency, the need, grows. It spikes even further as Uthvir manhandles him, and gains only some relief when they shift their hips up and start to take him into themselves.
They bite their bottom lip, and stare at him intently while the do.
Thenvunin feels near dizzy with the sense of them enveloping him. He did not even know they could do that. He cannot do that! What a strange thing, to think a Tengu would have such skills that a Fox does not. But then he can scarcely think of anything, as they lower themselves fully on top of him; and stop to lift up their tray.
“Eat a bite,” they say.
“Uthvir,” he whines.
“Eat a bite, and I will move my hips,” they promise him.
Thenvunin opens his mouth, with scarcely a thought. Their fingers slide to his lips again. The piece of fruit is sweet and soft, and slides easily down his throat. He licks the juices from their softened fingertips, and is rewarded when they slide up, and take him in again. The electric feeling drags a shameless moan from him.
“Good,” Uthvir murmurs, in a tone that feels him with appalling pleasure. “Another bite, and I will move again.”
Their own voice sounds a little strained, though. Thenvunin obediently parts his lips. But this time, when they move, he is ready for it; and he moves, too. Rising up to meet them, and pulling a stuttering breath from them in return. His gaze goes hooded, as his magic curls around them. He squirms enough to get his tail free, and wraps it around their waist. Teasing their chest with the tip of it.
“This will take an awfully long time,” he purrs.
Uthvir raises an eyebrow. Their wingtips flutter. They resolutely lift another piece of fruit.
“You are not going anywhere,” they counter. Thenvunin whines a little, but accepts the offered bite. It is worth it, to feel them move again. He is so pent up he feels like he might burst; the last round ended long ago, and Uthvir left, and now he needs to come again, but they are being so bossy. He does his best to entice them. Throwing his head back, and saying their name. Begging them to put aside the platter and just take him, but they get through a dozen more bites before Uthvir picks up the water again.
They drink a mouthful themselves. Then they take another mouthful, and lean in. And kiss the drink right to his lips.
Thenvunin nearly grimaces, expecting the taste of spit and salt. But somehow, water from the Tengu’s mouth tastes like the kind that flows from fresh mountain streams. He actually enjoys the next mouthful. And then the next, but he can only resist so much, and before they pull away again he slips his tongue between their lips. Their mouth tastes cool, now. Soothing and sweet, as their trick becomes Thenvunin’s kiss. He rocks his hips up, and finally their impossible restraint seems to crack.
They kiss him ardently, with that river-tasting mouth of theirs. They slide up, and then bring their hips back down, until they are riding him in earnest. Building the pleasure up and up, until he reaches his peak. He comes inside of them, a rush of satisfaction that lasts but a moment before the heat presses in again, and he needs more. But Uthvir is still going - beautiful, wonderful Uthvir, with their bright kisses and strong legs and wings that cover the both of them as they move atop him. Their mingled scents building and building, and finally coming together in a crash of desires.
Uthvir sighs.
Thenvunin still needs more.
They slide off of him. But at his sound of protest, they pat his hip. He watches as they change shape again; their flesh seems less spent, now.
Useful, is all he cant think. Yes, this will be useful, they can change shapes and then they will not get so tired, will not have to pause so often…
“Keep going,” he pleads.
They angle his hips upwards, and stroke themselves to hardness against him.
“As you wish,” they reply.
~
 How long, Uthvir wonders, do these sorts of things usually last for?
They have lost count of the rounds, though they have tried their best to keep track of the time. It has been days, they know. Less than a week, but not by much. They have managed to give Thenvunin food and water, to relieve themselves and guide him to the water closet when he must do the same. Things have - mercifully - slowed down some, but they do not show any times of stopping, either. Both of them have slept, intermittently. Thenvunin still gets aroused in his sleep, and tends to move against them when that happens. Uthvir does not mind - by no means do they mind the fantastic marathon sex - but it requires some… managing.
They had not been entirely prepared to throw an entire week to the wind and spend it fucking an insatiable Thenvunin.
Not, again, that they are complaining. But a little forewarning would not have gone amiss.
And the cuddling remains a… thing.
Uthvir would complain, but obviously, Thenvunin is not in his right state of mind. So there is not much for it but to permit him to run his fingers through their feathers and hair, and snuggle up against them whenever exhaustion wins out over his libido. Hugging him back seems to help his ‘relaxed’ time last a little longer. So it is pure pragmatism to put their wings around him, as well as their arms, and block the moonlight from his tired face.
The both of them sorely need baths, though.
Thenvunin stirs from his place wrapped around them. They took the ropes off of him again, to keep from damaging his limbs. But it means he is free to slide his hands across their skin, as he kisses the underside of their jaw.
“Uthvir,” he murmurs. “Take me.”
They sigh, and brush a trembling hand against his hair. Everything is spent, and slightly sore.
“You have tired me all out,” they admit. “I do not think I can move just yet.”
Thenvunin makes his sound of complaint. Their loins give a solid effort at responding. After a moment, Uthvir sighs again, and shifts their lower shape to an inwards one. They spread their legs wider; inviting. Wondering if Thenvunin will take the invitation, as he mouths lazily at their skin. They would not ordinarily permit such liberties, but right now they find themselves too tired to care. Let him satisfy himself this round. Their muscles are all shaky, in a way they are accustomed to only feeling in their wings after long, long flights.
Thenvunin pauses, and seems a bit befuddled by their change.
“Go on,” they say, mustering up enough energy to raise an eyebrow at him. “You want it, you can do it this time.”
He looks a them strangely. The lust is still clouding his gaze; but not entirely.
“Do not offer Foxes such things,” he says. His voice is low, and surprisingly coherent. Clear. “Not when we are like this. We cannot control ourselves.”
Uthvir has no idea what to make of that.
“I am not asking for your restraint,” they say. “Besides, you are nearly as tired as I am. Go ahead; if you hurt me, I will just use magic to knock you away.”
Thenvunin hesitates, still. Uthvir wraps their legs around his waist, and he makes a breathy sound. His hips rock towards them. But rather than push his way inside, he instead ends up just tiredly thrusting against their skin. His cock rubs at the juncture of their thighs, sliding over the sticky remnants of their last rounds, as he grips them close. His mouth latches onto the side of their neck.
Uthvir blinks at the feel of Thenvunin’s own sharp canines pressing there. They wonder if he will bite them.
Well, turn around is fair play, they suppose.
But at the last moment he gasps and pulls back. They think he is coming; but he keeps thrusting without pause, and they do not feel his seed against their skin. He bites the filthy bed mat beside them instead, and rocks against them until he finally does come, some minutes later.
His bite on the mat eases, and leaves behind some tiny puncture marks.
His arousal actually goes down, to Uthvir’s surprise. After one round?
Maybe things are slowing down, at that.
They run a hand up his back, and feel his tail flop against them. Their legs fall back down, too exhausted to do much else.
“Well done,” they murmur.
He sighs, and turns his face back towards them. Pressing a surprise kiss to their shoulder.
“Be more careful,” he says, before drifting off to sleep again.
Uthvir is still puzzling over his sentiments, long after the fog of arousal has lifted from Thenvunin in earnest, and he has all but chased them from the walls of his quaint little house.
 ~
 Uthvir is resting in their favourite tree when the branch in front of them catches fire.
Not fire-fire, thankfully. The purple foxfire gleams and dances without actually billowing smoke, or devouring the branch in front of them, or even letting off much heat. Good. This is Uthvir’s favourite tree, in a region they have long been named Guardian of. They would have to take unpleasant action if someone actually damaged it.
After a moment, the foxfire goes out. They sit up, and rustle their feathers, and then look down. Their lips twitch as they see Thenvunin standing beneath their tree. Dressed in rather nice clothing, and glowering up at them as if they have offended him.
“Thenvunin!” they call down, far more happily than they had meant to. They twist their lips into a smirk, and give him a lingering once-over. “What a pleasant surprise!”
The man’s scowl deepens, as he folds his arms.
“And just what do you think you are doing?” he asks.
Uthvir raises an eyebrow, and hops down from their branch. They unfurl their wings and flap just once, easing their landing.
“Well I did think that I was resting in my favourite tree,” they tell him, before they begin to circle around him. He looks good. Healthy. He has some colour in his cheeks. “But now I am not so certain. Is anything amiss?”
“Amiss?!” Thenvunin demands. His tail twitches, and his ears flick in the direction of their footsteps. He purses his lips, though, and keeps his back straight as a board. Not bothering to follow them with his eyes, even though his ears give away his desire to. “Of course something is amiss! There have been deliveries!”
“Ah!” Uthvir exclaims. They stop in front of him, and let their smirk widen to a grin. “So you got my gifts!”
“You audacious rogue!” Thenvunin replies. “You sent couriers to my house! Mine!”
“They were just little kappa, nothing dangerous,” they say, wondering at his ire.
“No one goes to my house but me! And… guests,” the Fox insists. Which finally lets Uthvir pinpoint the source of his ire. His home was distinctly humble - part of the inspiration for their gifts in the first place, actually. They had not considered that Thenvunin would be averse to having others visit it, though. Not since he brought them there.
Hmm.
Perhaps he trusts them a bit more than he let on. Or perhaps it really was a matter of great necessity. Uthvir doesn’t suppose, in a state like that, that they would want to be anywhere except inside their own home either.
After a moment, they incline their head.
“Of course, Thenvunin. My apologies; I should have thought more keenly on your privacy.”
The Fox comes up a little short at their response. He narrows his eyes, and thins his lips. His tail twitches in agitation.
“Yes. Well. You should have,” he finally agrees.
Uthvir claps their hands together.
“Next time, I shall simply have to have you over to my own abode,” they decide, as they settle their wings. “You may take your gifts home with you, then. No more couriers. I trust you liked my offerings? I did take some care to select them for you.”
They lean in closer.
Thenvunin’s cheeks colour, but his ears flatten. It actually gives them another moment’s pause, as some fearfulness seems to strike him. There and gone again in an instant.
“I suppose you expect me to be grateful,” he grits out.
“Grateful?” Uthvir asks, as they pull back. They tilt their head. “No. That is the wrong word. Gratitude implies a certain degree of need. You hardly need my gifts. I would hope you might like them, though. That is generally the intent of a gift.”
Thenvunin’s rigid posture eases only slightly.
“And how do you imagine I would express my appreciation?” he asks them. “I suppose you have all sorts of ideas on that. You and your - your wiles. What exactly did you do to me, to make it all… to… with…”
Uthvir blinks, while the Fox stumbles over his words for a moment, and his cheeks darken further. His tail twirls, just a little, before he seems to consciously settle it down behind him. His ears stay flat, and for some reason, it makes Uthvir feel badly. That is negative body language, isn’t it? Sorrow, or fear, or somesuch. They let him fumble over his words a few moments, until they actually realize what he is trying to say.
“With the - and it couldn’t possibly just be - it felt good and I…” he trails off, giving them a caught look.
Uthvir lifts an eyebrow.
“It felt good, did it?” they ask, letting their tone drop a little.
Thenvunin looks as though he might slap them.
Just for a moment.
Then he lets out a frustrated huff.
“You know full well that it did! Because you did something!” he insists.
Uthvir raises their hands defensively.
“Thenvunin,” they say. “I know nothing of such magic. It is not in my nature.”
Thenvunin’s tail outright lashes at that.
“Liar,” he accuses. “You did spells! I saw you! With the light in my fur and the way the water tasted from your lips, and, and-”
“Spells, yes,” Uthvir concedes. “Light and some sparks, like the electric storms off a mountain’s peak. Clarity and cleansing, like to heal pollution from the air or streams. Tengu are guardians of nature, these sorts of things create a pleasant atmosphere, but there is no beguilement in them.”
The Fox does not look convinced.
“There are other ways to learn magic. Sigils and - and witchcraft! Potions! Curses! You have absolutely beguiled me, why else would I…”
He trails off.
Uthvir smirks, and leans a bit closer again.
“Why else indeed,” they counter, with an internal thrill of their own. The Fox is certainly diverting. And, no doubt, the best lay of their life so far. When he is in rut, anyway. Outside of it he tends to be more… challenging.
It keeps things interesting, they suppose.
A few steps, and a twist around. Thenvunin moves away from them, and ends up backing himself against their tree. They use their wings to corner him there. The tree is old and sturdy. Its trunk is more than wide enough to accommodate Thenvunin, as well as both of Uthvir’s hands, as they frame him with them. The bark beneath their palms is smooth, and hums with natural energies quite attuned to their own. It is, of course, more calming than sexual. But the bob of Thenvunin’s throat, and the slight tremble of his mouth, make up the difference.
“For what it is worth, I find myself quite charmed by you, too,” they tell him. Before they lean up, and claim his lips.
His tail brushes against them. Then moves swiftly away, as he keeps his hands firmly at his sides. Uthvir sighs into the kiss, but pull back after a moment.
“Not going to ask me for another round?” they wonder.
Thenvunin’s face turns vividly red, but his ears plaster themselves flat against his skull again.
“Do not ever reference what goes on in… that time when I am not in it,” he insists, in a low, furious voice. His eyes refuse to meet theirs. His shoulders slump, and something worryingly like defeat seems to steal over him.
Uthvir moves a hand to brush his cheek. They think the better of it before they can complete the motion, though, and instead they take a step back.
“Alright,” they agree. “I will not mention it.”
Thenvunin swallows. His eyes are still fixed on some random patch of undergrowth, rather than on them.
“And do not send any more visitors to my house,” he insists, again.
“I have already agreed not to,” Uthvir reminds him.
He nods to himself.
“Then we are done here,” he decides. “You may go back to… ogling random travelers, or whatever it is you were doing.”
Uthvir clucks their tongue.
“Certainly not,” they decide, and snap their fingers. Thenvunin startles as a gateway begins to open in the tree behind him. He moves aside, and watches - ears up again - as the trunk of Uthvir’s favourite tree obligingly warps and twists, and gives way to an entrance. Not quite as dramatic as a foxfire portal, but still rather impressive, they think. The view beyond shows a pathway, leading up towards an elegant - if rather fortress-like - home. Walled in, but behind the walls are glimpses of blossoming tree tops, and sloping roofs. A tanuki gardener tends to the plants along the front pathway.
“You invited me to your home, and were a most diverting host,” they say. “Come and stay a while with me. It will give me a chance to ply you with gifts. Tengu are quite generous, you know.”
Thenvunin glances at them, and then looks swiftly towards the portal again.
“I have not heard that,” he says. “Tengu always seem quite stingy to me.”
Uthvir settles a hand over their chest in mock horror.
“Well then, it is my clear duty to set the record straight,” they insist. Reaching over, they wind their arm through one of his. When he finally looks at them again, they offer him a wink.
“Come now, Thenvunin. What is the worst that could happen?” they ask.
He looks as though he could think of a fair few ‘worsts’ to suggest.
But after a moment, he obliges their tugging, and walks through the portal with them.
 ~
 Uthvir is slightly more prepared for Thenvunin’s second rut, when it starts up.
It still takes them a while to piece together that it is starting. It’s only when they find Thenvunin’s tail winding its way around their waist - a quip about familiarity dancing on their tongue - that they catch a distinct note to his scent, and the mental light goes off. Thenvunin retracts his tail swiftly, of course, and accuses Uthvir of… doing something.
They are not entirely sure Thenvunin himself is clear on what they have supposedly done.
But on the off-chance that the Fox intends to invite them over for another riveting marathon sex week, Uthvir begins to plan for it. Adjusting their schedule accordingly, and accumulating some supplies. Thenvunin’s little house does not have a bath. Just a basin to wash in. They think about inviting him to stay over at their own household instead, but one look at his increasingly antsy countenance, and they nix the idea.
In such a state, they themselves would hardly trade security for a bath.
They enchant an extra basin instead, and begin gathering up some good preserves and easy-to-prepare foods, and some potions that might come in handy. Oils and lotions and soft silken ropes, too. They pack soothing balms and optimistically bring along their wing-cleaning kit, just in case this time they should actually get an opportunity to groom a bit between… instances. And after a few discreet inquiries, they acquire a delicate bristle brush, that is ostensibly quite good for fox fur.
The salesman may have conned them on that front, but Uthvir supposes it is worth a thought, anyway. And it did not cost much.
When Thenvunin invites them quite bluntly to his house, they are ready.
“Just let me bring a few things,” they say.
“We should go now,” Thenvunin insists, rubbing up against them like… well. Like a rutting Fox. Uthvir lets him follow them into their room, and finds themselves fighting the urge to give in to his invitations and wandering hands as they nevertheless sweep up their travel bag, and place it onto the somewhat larger chest full of most of their supplies.
“What are you bringing all that for?” Thenvunin wonders, nearly petulant about it. “You will not be needing any clothes…”
“Open a portal,” Uthvir requests, instead. They have scarcely gotten the word out before Thenvunin grumbles a ‘finally’ and snaps his fingers. A circle of foxfire erupts into the middle of the room, and shows the way to his quaint little house. Uthvir floats the chest and bag through ahead of them, and then lets themselves be dragged in as well. Thenvunin gets a bit unsteady on his feet at that point, though.
They take the opening to lift him up. Still levitating their luggage, too, as they carry both in through the screen door to the Fox’s home.
Thenvunin makes a very interesting sound when they scoop him up. His ears go flat, but his tail twines around them. Now that they’re trying to pay more attention to his body language - in particular his ears and tail - they sometimes gain better inroads to what is going on with him. But sometimes he remains as confusing as ever.
They are quietly pleased with the improvements to Thenvunin’s home, though. It is still small and… humble, which they do not think quite suits his demeanour. But there is something to be said for the quiet of it, and with some of their gifts now decorating the walls and softening the contents of his bedchamber, it seems more lively. Intimate, rather than tiny. The pear tree in his garden has begun to bloom, too.
They settle their things into the main room, and carry on with Thenvunin into the bedroom. Their lips quirk in satisfaction when they see the veritable nest he has made of all the blankets and cushions and pillows they have given him. Much cozier than the single bed mat of before.
“I had nowhere else to put it all,” Thenvunin says, as if he can read their thoughts.
But despite his protestations, it all looks very well slept-in.
Uthvir turns their head and grazes his lips with a kiss.
“Silly Fox. This is exactly where you were supposed to put it all,” they say.
It is a testament to how far-gone he must be that Thenvunin only sighs, rather than offering up further protests. He moves a hand to their head and threads his fingers into their hair, his tail still wrapped firmly around them, as he nuzzles at the side of their face.
“Then put me with it, and come and touch me,” he beseeches. “My body is aching.”
His skin certainly feels heated enough. Uthvir swallows back some of their own reaction to his words, but not all of it. They give him a long look first, though. Taking in the colour in his cheeks, and the building fog in his gaze, and the ears still flat against his skull.
That keeps worrying them. Is he afraid?
“I will look after you,” they promise.
Thenvunin’s ears stay flat, but his chest rumbles a little with something suspiciously like a purr.
“Then take me,” he insists.
Ah.
Well.
Since he insists…
 They lower him to his nest of blankets, and kiss him until they can feel the heat of it right down to the tips of their wings.
 ~
 It feels so good.
Thenvunin does not think he can ever remember feeling this good so far into one of his ruts before. He did not even know it could be… pleasant. Beyond the obvious bursts of release and relief, of course. He has no idea what to do with this scenario. His thoughts are not clear on how much time has passed, but he knows it has been a few days, at least. His cock is hard again but it seems… less urgent, somehow, as Uthvir brushes a cool, damp cloth over his skin.
The silken ropes on his arms and legs are holding him, but they are far more comfortable than he might have guessed. The bedding around him is still soft, and smells like himself and like Uthvir, like sex, but not cloyingly so. He has his tail draped against Uthvir as they wash off the remnants of their last few rounds. The strokes of the cloth against his skin are soothing, just like their hands when they had covered him with lotions and oils. Their wings have filled up the room; and they have moved his screen, too, so that he can see them when they go to fill up the water flask, or bring a tray of food.
Thenvunin’s mind is still a fog of lust, but the usual, sinking anxiety of it all is quiet. Somehow.
He tries to move into Uthvir’s touch.
“Untie me?” he asks.
He needs to… just… to just touch them back…
Uthvir regards him for a moment. He makes what submissive gestures he can, like this. After a moment, they relent, and with a sigh they move to take the ropes off of him. His arms are freed first. Thenvunin shivers as the soft, silken bonds slide loose, but he barely has time to focus on that before he reaches for Uthvir.
“I need to get your legs,” they tell him, evading his grasp just long enough to do that. Thenvunin knows he should just let them, but he cannot help it. He pulls them to him, and sighs as he buries his nose into their hair. Their feathers feel so soft. Spiky in a few places, too, but like their hair, they are nowhere near as spiky as they look. The damp rag smells faintly of fresh pine, which he doesn’t mind, per se, but he doesn’t want it either. He wants their scent and his and nothing else.
Pulling them to him helps solve the problem. Their wings smell most strongly of them, the glands at the base of them secreting the oils that help keep their feathers clean, and also the scent that Thenvunin wants. He cards his touch through them, carefully straightening them out - wings are delicate - even as he grinds his hips against them. A pleading whine escapes his lips, until Uthvir closes a hand over his cock, and playfully nips at the side of his ear.
His breath catches at the gesture. He shivers nearly as much from the little lovebite as from the feel of their hand. Oh, yes, something in him thinks. Good, good, bite me, claim me, please, please, please…
He wants it to always be like this. It should always by like this. Why weren’t the other times like this? The irrational, animalistic part of him ignores all the practical thoughts that tell him why and how and try to remind him that Uthvir is a disreputable Tengu. His fingers stall over one of the odd marks on their wings. They pull that hand back, not ungently. Thenvunin can scarcely think about the reaction, though, because then they flip him fully onto his back, and move to straddle him.
Their own cock has not recovered yet, but that does not seem to deter them much, as they press the soft skin up against his flushed arousal, and stroke him. Thenvunin reaches to pull them back down, though, wanting them closer still. His hands find their shoulders, and his need settles some as their wings furl around them.
And then his world is caught up in the building fires of his pleasure. The slide of their touch, the press of their nails at his chest. The spark of magic, brief but distinct, that makes his fur tingle and his tail twitch, and draws their name from his lips like a breath of relief.
He comes a second afterwards. Not entirely satisfied - not in this state - but enough that he sighs and manages to pull them back down to him again. Forgoing the feel of their hand for the feel of their lips, as he incidentally unbalances them, and forces them to brace themselves on either side of his sleeping mat instead.
“Please,” he breathes against them.
“Almost,” they promise. “I just need a little while longer.”
Thenvunin presses flush to them. His lips find the side of their neck. It is a force of effort not to sink his teeth in there.
Bite, mark, claim…
No.
Uthvir is a Tengu. It would not mean the same thing to them. And besides which, that is not what they are to one another. This is a… an arrangement. A tryst. He does not know why his ravenous libido should somehow keep forgetting that.
He keeps just enough of himself to fend off his foolish instincts, and presses a kiss to them instead.
 ~
 Uthvir can tell when things are starting to slow down again.
They know the signs to look for again. They find they can keep count of how many culminations it takes for Thenvunin to go into a relaxed state, or soften, and that tends to be a very good indicator. For the last day Thenvunin mostly goes down after every time he comes. Which is good, because Uthvir is still quite exhausted by that point.
They fall asleep a few times, only to wake to wandering hands and kisses, whispered pleas - but despite them anticipating it a little, Thenvunin does not take advantage of them while they are sleeping. Not to do anything more than drape himself all over them, anyway, and offer some aggressive snuggling.
But the real tip off that Thenvunin is snapping out of it is when he stops trying to cuddle.
Uthvir’s legs and arms feel like jelly, and even their wings are a bit tired, when Thenvunin finishes for the last time and then rolls right off of them. He has to press against the far wall to do it. Uthvir watches his expression drop, and his nose wrinkle.
The little room is fairly rank with the scents of sex and sweat by now, of course, but up until even just a few minutes ago, Thenvunin had seemed to enjoy that quite a bit. And last time, Uthvir was themselves so desperate for a bath that they could hardly fault the reaction.
But this time they have managed to do a fair job of keeping them both clean, if they do say so themselves.
Not that they mind being suddenly freed from all that needless touching, of course. It is just that it suddenly makes things rather drafty.
“If you’re giving me the cold shoulder, you must be coming to your senses,” they quip.
Thenvunin freezes. And then he turns, and fixes them with an affronted look.
“What did you say?” he demands.
Uthvir raises an eyebrow, and glances pointedly at the distance between them.
“Just that it must be wearing off, if you are not being all cuddly anymore,” they explain. Not unreasonably, they think, but Thenvunin’s ears move backwards, in a gesture they have begun to recognize as the ‘anger’ position.
“And I suppose you would like it best if I played the simpering, desperate fool all year round,” he says.
“What?” Uthvir replies, taken aback.
“A rut is a rut, it changes my behaviour,” Thenvunin snaps.
They manage to sit up, wincing at little at some of their aches.
“Yes, I noticed,” they say. “That was what I was commenting on. It’s not as if I am the one who kept insisting on as much contact as possible all week.”
“Oh but you certainly took your pleasure from it, did you not?!” Thenvunin fires back.
It is Uthvir’s turn to freeze up, then. Indecision striking them with nauseating fervency, even as defensiveness rises in its wake. Did they take advantage, somehow? They had not thought… and he came to them, he was well aware of what was going on beforehand… but… during, did they do something wrong…?
“The lion’s share of pleasure spilled on these sheets was not mine,” they drawl, as they pick themselves up a bit more.
Thenvunin flinches as if struck. It deflates some of their defensiveness.
“Thenvunin, I-”
“No,” he snaps at them, and rolls over. His tail curls defensively around himself, as he pointedly disappears into one of the blankets. “The rut is over. There is no reason for you to be here anymore.”
Uthvir feels struck at that themselves.
I am done with you. Get out.
Awkward silence drags down the atmosphere. It makes them painfully aware of just how tired they are. How spent. Despite their efforts, their skin still itches in places. They could probably do with a warm meal - actual food, not just occasional tidbits and water - and some rejuvenation. They should get back to their territory, too, to make certain nothing has happened to their range in their absence.
Thenvunin is fine now.
Clearly.
“Well. Far be it for me to overstay a welcome,” they say, as they manage to push themselves to their feet. They are not too tired for stubbornness, as they gather up their discarded clothing and armour, and dutifully pull it back on.
The Fox remains a lump in the blankets, glowering at his wall.
It takes long enough that there is plenty of time for him to roll over and offer some… retraction of sentiments.
He doesn’t.
Uthvir makes their way gingerly out of his front door, and tells themselves they should not be surprised.
 ~
 Stalking has been far too long away from court.
It could not be helped, of course. First there was that business with the nobleman and his mistress, and then with charming two-tail from the mainland, who required all of his attention to simply keep occupied for long enough to… make use of. Her lack of genuine contacts and natural trust of her own kind made her too tempting a target to pass up, though. Much to his benefit, in the end. Despite his absence, Stalking returns to court with a new wing in his household, several new attendants trailing after him, and a fourth tail twining with his other three. His fur and hair are luxurious and soft, and he has gained another inch in height.
The court is all a-titter at his return. As it should be. Depleting that two-tail was time-consuming, but now he need only reap the rewards.
And look for another target, of course. Always the best part of any hunt.
He works his way through the various social circles that welcome him in the palace of the gods. Mirena has gone off to chase her artistry again; good, for it means she will not be around to caution anyone against him. Her son is at court, though, and is a source of much gossip. The one-tail apparently having run around with a Tengu, of all things.
And not just any Tengu, but one bound to the Dark God. Stalking is nearly impressed by the level of seduction that probably took; but it means he initially writes the man off as a poor target. Too skilled, in that case, and also being Mirena’s son, probably all too wary of him. The better marks are the newcomers. He pursues some other lines of gossip. A Cat has come to court, new but not really powerful enough to be worth it. More promising, the young cousin of one of his rival courtesans has been staying away from court. Reputedly too good-natured and innocent for the rigors of politicking, but still hailing from a prominent bloodline. Stalking indulges in a few lovers and plots a few plots, makes some strides to gain invitations here and there.
Court gossips whispers that Mirena’s son has fallen out of favour with his Tengu. Stalking is not expecting luck to deliver a one-tail right into his lap; but he happens to be invited to the first party which Thenvunin visits, subsequent to the drama.
He is older than Stalking would expect, for a Fox with only one tail. But still, of course, quite pretty - tall, and broad, but clad is soft tones that try to downplay it. He keeps his chin up and his shoulders straight, makes a lot of excuses when he speaks, and isn’t much good at disguising the signals of his tail and ears.
Pathetic, Stalking thinks.
And the weakness is promising.
He makes his way over, being certain to advertise his status as he fans his tails outwards. Thenvunin departs from his current conversation, and nearly stumbles over himself as he takes note of Stalking.
“Oh!” he exclaims, before flattening his ears, and ducking into a bow. “My Lord Four-Tail, forgive me! I did not realize you were there.”
“Hmm. Shall I be offended at your lack of courtesy, or pleased that my footfalls are still so quiet, after all this time?” he wonders, taking more thorough stock of his potential target. Green eyes. Thin lips - shame. A little too much meat on him, perhaps, but despite his lack of tails, there is definitely a certain amount of power to him. Well. He is a purebred; and Stalking has yet to add any of Mirena’s bloodline to his collection.
But how wary is the man…?
Thenvunin bows again.
“I meant no offense at all. My thoughts were distracted,” he says.
Stalking ventures a bit closer, and reaches out to brush a finger across Thenvunin’s jaw. It draws a blush. Some flustering. But he does not pull back, nor raise his hackles; nor attempt to protest the familiarity.
Interesting.
“Then I shall forgive you, pretty thing that you are,” he decides. “Do you know me?”
“No my lord, I fear we have not met,” Thenvunin tells him.
“Hmm, and yet I know you,” Stalking counters. “You are Mirena’s son, Thenvunin? Yes? And I am Lord Stalking, to you.”
No light of recognition shines in the younger Fox’s eyes.
…Perhaps he has been gone too long from court, at that. How old was this one when he left? Grown, yes, but only just. It seems he has had some time to come into his own. Albeit poorly.
“Ah, how remiss of me,” Thenvunin says, still making submissive gestures, and bowing his head again. “Forgive me, Lord Stalking, for not knowing you.”
“It seems I must be quite benevolent this evening, to grant forgiveness so often,” he counters. Thenvunin tenses, as if awaiting some form of reprisal. But he does not seem prepared to argue or counteract it at all.
Yes. This one will do.
“Well, I shall do you one better,” he decides, and brushes a tail ‘accidentally’ against the side of Thenvunin’s leg. “I shall let you keep me company this evening. We might get to know one another quite well, and thereby avoid any further… mishaps.”
The pathetic one-tail tries to demure.
“I could not presume to take up such time,” he says.
“It is not a presumption. Are we not both Foxes here?” Stalking counters.
He hesitates, still. Just a moment. Enough to be concerning. But in the end it just adds a little spice to the challenge - hardly any, really - before he capitulates, and falls into step with Stalking. Keeping his ears flat and his tail low, and following him as Stalking leads him to gather some refreshments, and then to join some of the more influential gossips in the palace gardens.
With a Fox like this, giving a taste of influence is usually wise. Many older Foxes take on apprentices in earnest. It is a social convention which Stalking has used to his great advantage. Young, eager Foxes often seek out older and more experienced ones. And he can see the tentative hopefulness come into Thenvunin’s countenance, as the evening draws on, and the wheels of his little mind turn. Every kind word or simple bit of flattery Stalking offers him seems to impress the hope more and more.
Yes, he thinks. There you are. Such a nice older Fox. A potential mentor, in these stormy, isolated times.
He weaves a little magic around it. Subtle enough to deny as a random wisp, were it to be caught. But Thenvunin scarcely seems to notice as he starts to stand more easily in Stalking’s company, and leans a bit into his touch, whenever he ventures a hand towards his shoulder, or pats at one of his cheeks. Stalking keeps it subtle, though. Too much is too obvious, and Foxes know the feel of such magic innately. Even the most miserably unsuccessful and dull-minded among them do.
But he doesn’t need much, truly. By the end of the evening Thenvunin looks near to adoring, and Stalking does not even bother to request it as he leads them both back to his chambers.
It is almost comical, though, once they get there. The big idiot flusters and tries to play delicate, talks himself in circles and even tries to leave, twice, without breaking the unspoken contracts of etiquette that Stalking deftly weaves into a noose, and lets his prey hang himself with. By the time he takes him to bed, Thenvunin is begging more apologies for his ‘unconscionable behaviour’, and Stalking is magnanimously permitting him to make amends.
He goes gently, though. That is the key. He has rarely had a Fox so clumsy in bed before, but rather than snapping and biting and forcing, he sighs and pets and takes his time. At least Thenvunin’s hair is soft. Quite pleasant for sinking his fingers into, as he weaves a few more subtle threads of magic, and tries not kick the man aside for his joke of a bedroom manner.
At least the one-tail knows his place. The deference is quite pleasing, even if his form is somewhat ludicrous a vessel for it.
When morning comes, the one-tail sneaks back out of his rooms. Stalking permits it, because it is convenient. He takes a moment to rest, and then wrinkles his nose at the lingering scents of the night before. Summoning a servant up to clean, he bathes, and reconsiders.
He probably could not make this one disappear like the two-tail. He is too well-known. People would go looking. But depleting him would be easy enough; and hardly suspect. The man clearly has poor enough prospects anyway. He has lost the one thing of note he seemed to accomplish - the Tengu - and after so long without accumulating much power, it would not beggar belief that his own might wane. Fading until only a simple fox remains, barely more magical than their animal cousins.
It almost makes Stalking nostalgic for the first time he pulled off such a feat.
He makes up his mind, and arranges to have an invitation sent to Thenvunin. Requesting his presence in Stalking’s entourage at the next event he has scheduled. But he does not abandon the other paths of interest, either. Merely setting them aside; it is too soon to fully commit. Good prey, like a good relationship, takes some testing of the waters.
 ~
 Thenvunin cannot believe his luck.
A lordly Fox has come to court. A four-tail, even! And he is handsome and charming and kind, powerful and well-spoken, and for some unknowable reason, he seems to have taken an interest In Thenvunin.
It is remarkable. The exact kind of opportunity that Thenvunin has hoped for! Like something straight out of a dream. It nearly makes him forget about all of the… the untoward business with… with that Tengu.
He should have known that Uthvir was only feigning interest in him outside of his ruts, to get access to him during them. The disappointment in their tone lingers in his mind, burdened with unspoken accusations. Cold, they had called him. After a week of subjecting himself to their every carnal want and whim! And then they had just left, with no further discussion. Probably happy to be short of a Thenvunin who was no longer hanging on their every breath and sigh, no longer dizzied by his own fantastical libido.
There are times when Thenvunin hates being a Fox.
But he is one, and to that end, the whole incident has just served to remind him of how inescapable it all is. His mother had warned him when he was younger, of the dangers and unlikelihood of finding other spirits or mortals who would truly understand and appreciate them.
Some things, only other Foxes can know.
He keeps those thoughts in his mind as he gets ready for the evening’s festivities. Lord Stalking has invited Thenvunin to accompany him for a poetry reading. One of the court’s up-and-coming playwrights has prepared it as a sort of exclusive pre-event to the play she has been writing for the past decade. It is the sort of small, privileged event which Thenvunin himself would never be invited to; the type likely to present opportunities for rubbing elbows with powerful spirits and godly servants. Courtly folk of high esteem; not just bound warriors and hangers-on.
Needless to say, the prospect of dressing well for the evening has him somewhat on edge.
He has formal attire, of course, but… the nicest things he owns are… well…
He glances towards the chest where he packed away several of Uthvir’s gifts, and purses his lips.
Gifts are gifts, of course. And it is not as if Uthvir themselves is liable to attend such an event. They would probably never even know he wore something they had given him. Most people at court would even take it favourably, to see Thenvunin showing off the spoils of a ‘seduction’. Nevermind the particulars; that is what Foxes are supposed to do.
He debates only a little longer, before giving in. He will have to start dressing in a hurry, either way, if he wants to be ready in time. Opening the chest, he pulls out the box with the fine hair pin they gave him, and the purple silk robe, with white cranes on it. The fabric feels smooth as rain on polished stones. Thenvunin finds the belt to go with it, too, and from there, makes the rest of the outfit from his older closet. A person would not ordinarily be able to dress themselves, but in lieu of servants, he makes do with a few carefully placed spells.
When he is done, he regards his reflection.
He looks… square. And there is something off with his make-up, he thinks, but he cannot decide what. He checks the time, and then does it over again. But finds himself barely satisfied with the changes. Thinking carefully, he selects a fan - another gift from Uthvir - to go with it, and help hide any potential embarrassments. There is no disguise for the fullness of his frame, but then, there never really has been. He leaves most of his hair loose to help compensate, and politely wraps his tail around his own waist, before he finally sets out to meet Lord Stalking.
The palace halls are fairly quiet. It is not an evening of broad revelry. Thenvunin walks with as much haste as he can manage in his outfit, eager to avoid being late, and having to make more apologies.
Not that he would mind, of course! But… well… better to avoid the need for such things, anyway.
His mind turns towards Lord Stalking’s invitation to his bedchamber, and dutifully skips over the particulars. He felt compelled to bathe himself a lot more thoroughly the next morning, although, Foxes tend to have heightened scents as compared to… others. Such things are to be expected, particularly since there are no assumptions and certainly no agreements between himself and the four-tail.
Only hopes.
Thenvunin is distracted enough that he fails to note the shadow of winds on a nearby wall, and rounds a corner, and freezes.
Uthvir is standing in the palace hall, near to Lord Stalking’s guest chambers. Walking towards some other destination themselves. But their feet halt as they fold their wings behind themselves, and take in the sight of him.
They are also dressed quite nicely, he notes. In their formal armour, the sort that is more for ceremony than sport, with their hair done up and their dark nails painted gold. There is a faint shimmer on their lips, too, a ludicrous balm that draws his gaze there, and cannot help but conjure up memories of kisses and whispers. The feel of those lips against his skin.
Thenvunin’s heart speeds up, and he curses his luck.
“…Thenvunin,” they greet.
He swallows. His lips thin, and it does not escape his notice that they are giving him another once-over. The tiny shiver that rises up in him is easy to quell, and is mostly reflex besides. He unfurls his fan, unthinking, but wishing to hide.
“Uthvir,” he returns, more tersely.
“You look very nice,” they tell him. “Are you going to the-”
“Why Thenvunin,” Lord Stalking’s voice calls. “There you are!”
He nearly roots himself to the spot. Oh no. His gaze darts between Uthvir, and the approaching Fox Lord. Stalking is wearing attire that puts Thenvunin’s own rightly to shame, the sort of meticulous, handmade, elaborate garments that would take actual decades to make. His hair is tied up into elegant knots. The slashes of silver paint on his eyelids match perfectly with the fur of his tails.
He remembers himself just in time to flatten his ears, and duck into a deep bow.
“My lord,” he greets.
“I was beginning to wonder if you had gotten lost,” Lord Stalking says, with flattering concern. He draws close, and then turns his gaze towards Uthvir.
His lips part, slightly. His eyes widen. Thenvunin stalls on his way up out of his bow, gripped by a sudden, unpleasant feeling of vulnerability.
Uthvir returns Stalking’s assessment much more coolly.
“My, my,” says Lord Stalking, faintly. Then he inclines his head. The gesture not quite deferential, but still more respectful than Uthvir generally seems to get. Even with their power and relative prestige. “You must be the Vassal of the Dark God. I confess, I had not pictured you so beautiful. In my experience, Tengu tend more towards homeliness.”
Uthvir raises an eyebrow, as Thenvunin nearly chokes over Lord Stalking’s flattery.
Flirtation? he wonders.
The idea does not suit him in the least. But then, of course it does not. A Fox of Lord Stalking’s station would only be lowering himself to consort with the likes of Uthvir.
“You must have quite limited experience, then,” Uthvir rudely replies - not even bothering to return the flattery. Thenvunin does not know whether to be relieved or appalled, but Lord Stalking only smiles at the slight.
“Perhaps so,” he concedes. “Much as I would love to discuss the matter more, Thenvunin and I are about to head to a poetry recital. I would invite you along, but the guest list is necessarily limited, by will of our hostess.”
Uthvir shakes their head.
“That is alright. I am heading to a performance in the gardens myself,” they say. Then they turn their gaze towards Thenvunin, and rest a hand on their hip. The spot where the hilt of their blade would be, if they were wearing one.
“Perhaps Thenvunin would care to accompany me instead?” they suggest. “If your hostess is worried about over-crowding, I certainly would not object to escorting you to a different venue, Thenvunin. It would be a shame to waste such a lovely outfit on a stuffy indoor recital.”
Before Thenvunin can begin to formulate a response, Lord Stalking laughs.
“Are you trying to steal my date out from under me, Tengu?” he asks. His countenance seems amused, but there is a gleam in his gaze that makes Thenvunin nervous. A spark of ire. “That is rather bold of you.”
Uthvir shrugs.
“I have a rural upbringing. My manners are far from exemplary,” they say.
“Clearly,” Thenvunin scoffs. His stomach lurches somewhat, however, when Lord Stalking closes a hand around his arm, and draws him pointedly to his side. The atmosphere in the hall is tense, and not in a way he can readily decipher. If he did not know any better, he would think he was being fought over. But his rut is another year away yet, so Uthvir cannot want him. And Lord Stalking is being benevolent in his interests; so why would he fight over him?
Wishful thinking he decides, with a twist of humiliation. He is busy swallowing it down when he realizes that Uthvir has unfurled their wings, and is looking very sternly at Lord Stalking.
“Thenvunin?” they ask.
“What?” he wonders, less elegantly than he might have preferred.
The four-tail’s grip on his arm tightens. But when he looks over, Lord Stalking is smiling again.
“How quaint,” he says. “The Tengu thinks you might actually choose to go with them.”
“Well…” Thenvunin replies, before stuttering a little. It earns him a sharp look. He ducks his head. “Well of course not!” he exclaims.
It would be the height of foolishness to do such a thing. Particularly when Uthvir is probably just attempting to sabotage him. Ruin his prospects, and keep him downtrodden, and thereby always available to them for their needs. Of course, that must be it. Even if it does sound rather more deplorable of them than Thenvunin might suspect.
Perhaps they are simply not thinking things through. Being reckless, and petty.
“There you have it,” Lord Stalking says. He begins to turn, and pulls Thenvunin along with him. “Come along, my dear. Hopefully we can speak to your friend again when they have a cooler head on their shoulders.”
Thenvunin can feel Uthvir’s gaze on his back as they set off down the hall. And all the way until they reach the end of it. Lord Stalking’s grip remains firm, until they are out of sight and earshot, and can no longer see the shadows of wings on the walls.
“However did you seduce that one?” he asks, once they are alone.
“I did not,” Thenvunin replies, automatically. Then he backtracks somewhat. “That is, Uthvir simply had an interest in my… cycle. And it was convenient, for a time.”
Lord Stalking makes a sympathetic sound, and pats his arm.
“Of course. I might have guessed that such a dalliance would be more of their design than yours,” he says. “Still. That is useful information. If they are susceptible to such whims, perhaps I might enact some vengeance on your behalf. However enthralling you are, after all, my charms could leave a lasting mark on that presumptuous spirit. One they would likely regret.”
Thenvunin’s nerves jangle in alarm.
“My lord?!” he asks, aghast.
Stalking glances at him, and his expression softens some.
“Only if you wish revenge, of course,” he says. “I had assumed you might, given the situation you described.”
He shakes his head before he can even think of a tactful response. But then he catches himself. Of course; it has been too long since he spent much time around other Foxes. Such an offer would be meant kindly, not… not as a…
“I believe that would be overkill,” he says, more tactfully. “Besides, Uthvir is bound to a powerful god. It would not be worth it to risk drawing such ire to yourself.”
Lord Stalking smiles in comprehension. Then he pauses in his steps, and reaches over to pat Thenvunin’s cheek.
“How good of you to worry for me,” he says. “Clearly, I have chosen my own company wisely. I shall have to give you a token, in repayment for such consideration.”
His face heats.
“Oh, certainly not!” he protests.
Stalking taps his lips. The heat in his face intensifies at the touch.
“Shh, none of that,” he insists. “I have accumulated more than a few trinkets on my travels. I am certain I can find the right one to suit you. Nothing excessive; you need not worry. Just something to… mark my favour.”
He withdraws his touch, and with a wink, pulls Thenvunin into walking beside him again.
His mind races at the implications.
Favour.
Well that… that is very fortunate indeed.
 ~
 Lord Stalking gives Thenvunin his favour a mere week after the poetry recital.
It is a beautiful silver necklace. Small, not garish, but astonishingly well-crafted. The chain is heavier than it looks. The feature piece of the pendant is a molded silver flame, flecked with tiny jewels that look amber when Thenvunin first opens the box containing it. But when he tries it on, the jewels turn a pale green; the same colour as his eyes.
“The more you wear it, the more it will attune itself to you,” Lord Stalking tells him. “Such trinkets can sometimes help one focus their powers. Although this one is older, so, it may not be as effective as some others.”
“It is beautiful,” Thenvunin insists, and promises to wear it often. He finds that after an hour or so, the chain becomes a little uncomfortable. Digging into his neck more than he would like. But that is a small complaint, and not one he would dare voice to Lord Stalking, lest he seem ungrateful.
More and more, he is becoming intent upon pleasing the older Fox.
He must be doing something right, because Lord Stalking invites him to more events. A dinner party here, a theatre performance there. Thenvunin’s once-sparse schedule suddenly seems full to bursting with activities, although nearly all of them involve his new Fox mentor. Which is only to be expected, of course. Thenvunin’s wardrobe is taxed to capacity as he tries to find suitable things to wear to each event, though, without reusing the same outfits too often. He extends a few of his own connections to beg and borrow off of spirits who owe him favours, and are of a similar build.
But even that has its limits. He is fretting over what to wear to a birthday celebration which Lord Stalking has requested his company for, when he comes to his house to find a gift-wrapped parcel resting on his front step.
He pauses, and looks about nervously for any sign of intruders or messengers. But whoever delivered the item seems to have simply come and gone, and without disturbing any of his alarms, or trying to get into his house. Still, he approaches the package with some trepidation. Checking it for curses or any signs of spellwork, before finally unwrapping it in the front garden.
The slippery fabric nearly falls from his grasp in surprise, as he finds a beautiful outfit carefully wrapped inside.
His breath caches, and he picks up the parcel to examine with more care.
The robe is a pale yellow, with accents of green in the form of the leafy branches printed across the soft material. Splashes of red grace the pattern here and there, in the form of ripened fruit. Small birds nest between the curves of the branches, and soar through the open spaces of the pattern. Thenvunin finds nothing but beauty in the parcel. Not even a tag or card, or letter. Just the wrappings, and the elegant garment, which is perfectly his size.
Realization dawns with giddy wonderment.
Lord Stalking must have noticed his plight, and sent him a gift.
Of course, such an extravagant gift would be… rather forward, for a respectable and deferential relationship such as theirs. The lord probably decided to make his offering anonymous so as to avoid giving the wrong impression.
Thenvunin gets ready for the festivities with a lighter heart, and far fewer worries. He makes certain to wear the necklace which Lord Stalking gave him, too, and is pleased when the pale green stones match the leaves on his outfit, and the green of his eyes. The overall effect is more striking than he thought it would be. It nearly distracts him from the unruly wisps of hair that do not want to cooperate, and the line of his shoulders that still seems too bulky for such delicate patterning.
When he meets up with Lord Stalking, he cannot help but offer his thanks, though. The older Fox seems surprised for a moment. Perhaps at Thenvunin’s skills in deduction. But then he offers a modest smile, and pats Thenvunin’s cheek.
“I am pleased you like it,” he says. “Although I fear I will have to ask for it back after the event is done.”
“Oh,” Thenvunin says, faltering slightly. “It is only a loan, then?”
“Well, I did not want to spoil things by saying so. But yes,” Lord Stalking confirms.
It is still very fine and pleasant to have, though, so Thenvunin tries not to let his disappointment show. Lest it seem like ingratitude. He does wonder at the lack of a card or note, in that case, to clarify things. But Lord Stalking just assures him that there was one, and it must have gotten misplaced by the messenger.
And then Thenvunin does wonder how Lord Stalking knew where to find his home. But the older Fox just winks at him.
“I have my ways,” he says, before drawing him a little closer. The scent of him makes Thenvunin a bit dizzy, and embarrassingly weak in the knees. “Speaking of which, though, I think it is high time I saw where you are living.”
The prospect draws him up short in a rush of insecurities.
“Oh,” he says. “Well that… I do not think that, I mean… it is a very humble place, my lord, I suspect it would be unworthy of you.”
“Undoubtedly,” Lord Stalking agrees. Thenvunin’s heart sinks into his stomach at the certainty in his tone. But the man offers him a smile. “Nevertheless, I would like to see it. How else will I know what state you are living in, and how great your need for me is.”
“That is most kind, but I-”
“Then it is settled,” Lord Stalking decides, with a note of inarguable finality. “After the celebration is done, you will take me to see it. It is most convenient. I can reclaim the loan from you then, too.”
Thenvunin’s light mood falls completely, despite himself. The necklace feels heavy at his throat.
“Of course,” he nevertheless agrees.
The rest of the party lacks the excitement and glamour he had looked forward to, somehow. Thenvunin tries not to let his poor mood show. He thinks he mostly succeeds, as Lord Stalking seems quite pleased, and makes no effort to rebuke him. Not even gently. Each passing minute manages to weigh more, though, and Thenvunin knows he is anxious over taking his mentor to his humble home in the Spirit World.
His anxieties come to roost when the party is finally done, and Lord Stalking motions expectantly at him.
“It really is… it is quite small,” he dithers.
It earns him a look of impatience.
“If your were as prestigious as myself, Thenvunin, you would hardly need my help,” he says. “Now get to it. You are starting to seem ungrateful.”
With a hasty bow and a murmured apology, Thenvunin opens the portal at last.
Lord Stalking, of course, does not look impressed with his small home and his lone pear tree. He raises an eyebrow, and takes it all in. And though he does give Thenvunin a magnanimous smile, and take his arm, he also wrinkles his nose and does not quite hide his distaste for the house. Particularly once they get inside.
“Ugh,” he says, at last. Thenvunin wishes he could sink through the floor. “This place reeks of Tengu.”
The accusation is mortification itself. His face burns as Lord Stalking lets go of his arm, and turns a critical eye towards his walls.
“I…” he begins. “There were… gifts…”
“Clearly,” the elder Fox drawls. His tails swish in excitement. Or, no, given the circumstances, it must surely be agitation. His nose wrinkles as he sniffs, and Thenvunin cannot stop him from opening the screen to his bedroom. He had not even noticed that the place still smells like Uthvir. Not overtly, he had thought. But perhaps he had just… gotten used to it, or was too busy comparing it to the scent of the two of them during rut.
If anything, he had only noted that the scent was gone. Or, as it must be, simply less fresh…
He swallows as Lord Stalking’s expression grows grim.
At length, his mentor finishes his assessment, and turns back to him.
“It is as I feared,” he announces.
Thenvunin bows his head, and braces himself for the judgement. He is not even certain what rebuke he is anticipating, but he feels as if he must deserve one.
“The Tengu has laced your entire home with enough items to sap your strength,” Lord Stalking declares.
Thenvunin’s head shoots back up.
“What?!” he asks.
Lord Stalking nods, gravely.
“Oh, yes. It is an old trick of disreputable spirits,” he says. “To give gifts and items that seem like finery, but are truly magical objects in disguise. They will sap your strength, bit by bit. So gradually that you might not even notice it. By the time you do, the Tengu will have its hooks into you. It will be able to draw upon your magic, and use you up until you are little more than a hollow shell.”
Thenvunin goes cold at the implications.
But…
“Uthvir would not do that,” he says.
Lord Stalking raises an eyebrow.
“No?” he asks. “I wonder where your certainty comes from.”
Thenvunin hesitates.
“If they… if they meant me such harm, they could have taken advantage…” he ventures.
Lord Stalking shakes his head.
“Without drawing the notice of the court?” he asks. “You may not be prestigious, Thenvunin, but you do have some connections. And if your Tengu gained that sort of reputation, it would be much harder for them to find future victims.”
It still sounds wrong, though.
“But I do not feel weakened,” he says. “If anything, I…”
“Illusions,” Lord Stalking interrupts. “Charms and bewitchment. I can see all the signs.”
He takes several steps forward, and frames Thenvunin’s face with his hands. His expression turns apologetic.
“Tell me truly, Thenvunin,” he asks, not ungently. “What other reason would they really have for giving you all these nice things?”
Thenvunin’s heart sinks.
It sinks and sinks and sinks, until he feels numb.
Oh.
“…There is no reason,” he admits. To himself, as much as to Lord Stalking. There is no reason. No one would give Thenvunin such extravagant gifts just to buy his attention, not even for rutting season. It would not be needed. After all, Thenvunin had invited Uthvir over before they even gave him a single thing. And it was only after he let them into his home that they began to send him presents.
“I have been foolish,” he says.
His eyes sting.
Lord Stalking sighs.
“You are too trusting for your own good,” he says. Then he squeezes Thenvunin’s shoulder. “But not to worry. I am here, my dear. If we gather up all these things, I can safely remove the spells from them. It will free you of the Tengu’s influence. But I will need to have everything they have left here.”
Everything…?
Oh, he is a fool. Even with the revelation upon him, he finds his heart wrenching at the thought.
It is just pragmatism, he tells himself. Uthvir’s gifts are some of his finest possessions, and he had already been having trouble acquitting himself sufficiently for Lord Stalking’s outings. Without them, it will be even harder. But… if they are truly doing such harm…
“I will gather them up,” he says.
Lord Stalking stops him with a hand at his chin.
“Cleaning all of this up will not come without some effort from me,” he says, nearly apologetic.
Thenvunin ducks his head.
“Of course, my lord, forgive me. I am very grateful for your help and insights,” he says. “And I will do my utmost to repay you.”
“Good man,” Stalking praises. He lets him go, then. Tails still moving in agitation, as his eyes flit towards the soft cushions in Thenvunin’s bedroom.
Thenvunin does not watch him for long enough to see him smile.
 ~
 Hatred, Uthvir has found, is a very interesting emotion.
Anger and rage are relatives of it, of course, but there are significant distinctions. What one hates might easily make them angry or enraged. Those emotions, however, can only ever be temporary. Situational. Eventually, they fade, even if they can easily return again. Falling to the wayside in the wake of other things, like happiness or calm or sorrow.
Hatred, though, does not wear off so easily. It would not be hatred if it did.
And hatred is not always angry. Sometimes it is very calm. Sometimes it is cold. Sometimes it even wears disguises; masks of civility, tolerance, even kindness. Rage is like the weather; a storm that blows over. Hatred is a seed. Growing, thriving under the right conditions, or perhaps wilting and vanishing if enough time passes without the proper nourishment.
There are seeds of hatred that live in Uthvir’s heart. Not as many as some might suppose, but enough for them to be intimately familiar with the nature of it.
The new Fox at court, however, seems set to plant another one in record time.
Uthvir is trying not to be… unwelcome, in their focus on Thenvunin’s comings and goings subsequent to their terse dismissal from his home. He made himself fairly clear, after all, in asking them to leave, and his lack of overtures towards welcoming them back in any capacity are also clear. They entertain some small hope when they see him wearing a few of their gifts again.
Hope that is dashed when the four-tail Fox called Stalking makes his presence known.
Uthvir is aware that it is not rational to despise a man just because he has taken up with someone they have bedded. They know the dangers of possessiveness, of wanting things from people, and being unrelenting in the pursuit of them. Of thinking themselves somehow entitled to Thenvunin’s time or affections, his exclusive attentions, or really anything at all that he does not simply wish to give them.
If he wants to spend his days courting another Fox, courting Stalking, then that is rightly his business.
But Uthvir also does not like the way that Thenvunin’s ears go flat and his stance turns meek in the presence of the senior Fox. They do not like the way Stalking looks at him, and touches him. They do not like the magic they can feel lacing the air. Unfamiliar, and indistinct, but certainly present. They do not like Stalking’s gaze or manner or tone, though there is very little that they can concretely point to against it.
Just that it seems… wrong.
They do some digging.
After all, they have incidentally been spending more time at court, now - well, why shouldn’t they? - and it pays to know who is who, and what reputations abound.
Lord Stalking does not, initially, offer much clarity on that front.
Around court, Uthvir mostly finds the usual levels of gossip and speculation that surround virtually any spirit of note. Their own reputation is worse than Stalking’s courtly one. He comes from a purebred Fox family, but one of low esteem. He was, however, formally adopted by a more noteworthy line after acquitting himself well and gaining some notoriety. He has most of the usual associations of Foxes. Several known lovers, several former flames, a reputation for promiscuity and some trickery. A few whispers, here and there, of rivals gone missing and acquaintances falling on suspiciously hard times.
Uthvir knows they should probably leave it at that. They know they are not being compelled by pure suspicion on Stalking’s character, but also by their… by some emotional investment in Thenvunin’s fate. A curiosity as much as anything, perhaps. An interest in seeing where the perplexing man will go, and what he will do, and who he will decide to associate with along the way.
They dig deeper.
Outside of courtly circles, things turn a little more promising. Foxes are a fairly abundant type of spirit. And they are very sociable; even among those who are not auspicious enough to really grace the courts and intrigues of those who travel nearer to the circles of the gods.
The peasantry, in essence, seem to take a far dimmer view of the Fox named Stalking.
Uthvir uncovers many more consistent and dubious rumours, in digging through those social circles. They send some spirits who owe them favours to go and make inquiries, and the reports back have enough commonalities in theme that they would be foolish to dismiss them all as mere talk.
Foxes, go the rumours, have a habit of disappearing after their associations with Lord Stalking. So do other lesser spirits. Despite his four tails, Stalking is less than three hundred years old, by all accounts. Possibly even less than two. The minor purebred family he claims to hail from does not seem to exist, either, which means that Stalking could be lying about his lineage - or that they are all gone.
Ominous in either case.
Uthvir, of course, has duties outside of gathering gossip on interloping… on new faces at court. They have a territory to protect and obligations to their Lord to see through. Tasks to perform. Excursions to take. Though they rarely venture very far from their range, sometimes the course of their duties requires them to pursue things further afield, in both the mortal realm and the Spirit World.
But as more time passes, the nature of Thenvunin’s new relationship becomes a dissonant note that lingers at the back of their mind. Growing as days turn to weeks and weeks turn to months, and Thenvunin’s presence at court becomes more ubiquitous, but Uthvir does not see much improvement in his actual bearing. He hangs his head more. Flinches more readily. He is rarely seen without Stalking and, after a time, begins to conspicuously avoid Uthvir, too. He does not wear the new gift they send him, and they almost regret it. Wondering if it caused offence, if it was taken the wrong way…
It was just… they heard that he was looking for clothes. Nice things to wear at the events his new ‘patron’ kept taking him to. And it made that little, dark seed in their heart sprout a bit more, to think that Stalking would be dragging Thenvunin to and fro and not keeping him well-dressed on his own dime.
Thenvunin is proud. Prickly and dramatic and strange, yes, but certainly proud, too. It would be a sort of cruelty to leave him scrambling to keep up, even as one afforded him the opportunities to excel.
It seems, to Uthvir, like Stalking is keeping Thenvunin off-balance, more than affording him a path to ascension.
But they have nothing but their displeasure towards the man to support that idea. There is more weight to the reality that Thenvunin needs some new clothes; and while Uthvir does not expect him to be comfortable accepting gifts from them now - and really, part of them thinks they ought not send anything, after all is said and done - it is just…
Perhaps it is their own sort of pride, in the end. Knowing that they would be a better source of a support for him. Some subconscious desire to rub his choice in his face, a little. Even if they are the only one who knows they are doing it. Such an ugly impulse.
They do not talk themselves out of it, though.
And for what? they wonder, at first. When the gift seems to go to waste all the same.
But then there are duties to see to. And when they get back, other niggling concerns and little things to notice, that wear away at their attention. Thenvunin’s drooping seems to worsen. His avoidance grows even more blatant. Uthvir never sees him without Stalking, now, and at times he seems less like a man in company of a fellow Fox, and more like a shadow following in the wake of someone whose own presence has surely not depleted.
It makes Uthvir think of a human lord who once kept a tiger as a pet. The beast was defanged and declawed, slowly starving to death. Beaten into subservience, until it scarcely resembled a tiger at all.
It cannot just be the ugliness in their nature that prompts their concern. Their instincts can lead them astray, but never this badly. The latest trip they have returned from finds them watching Stalking and Thenvunin in the palace gardens. Stalking chatting amicably with one of his known compatriots, while Thenvunin dozes at the opposite side of the bench.
He looks too thin.
Uthvir has only just resolved to do something when the four-tail Fox looks up, and intercepts their gaze.
They do not like the way that man grins.
But what action to take remains less clear. They know they have to consider it. And the best way to consider it is to be certain of what, precisely, is going on. They are near certain that Thenvunin is being mistreated, but how is an important factor. Else the weaselly Fox behind it might just slink off from the whole ordeal unscathed. Or even remain a threat.
The are still musing over the idea when a little bird brings a message to them, as they meditate in their tree.
It is a simple slip of parchment. Lavender-scented, written on in elegant cursive that is familiar to their eye.
Thenvunin’s hand.
Dear Uthvir, says the letter. Their eyes widen at the familiar form of address. We should speak. I know you are probably angry with me, and in truth, you have every right to be. But I beg your permission to air my feelings to you in person. There are some things I must tell you, if my heart is ever to know peace. Please meet me at the lake near to your sacred tree.
Their eyebrows climb more and more, and something stirs in their chest as they come to the last line.
Yours, Thenvunin.
For a long moment they simply sit in their tree, and stare at the missive. Their mind caught by the memory of heated kisses and soft words.
Has Thenvunin figured out that something is wrong with Stalking?
Perhaps he means to ask for Uthvir’s help in escaping the other Fox’s influence.
Perhaps he wishes to apologize, some traitorous voice whispers, too.
They try not to pay that thought much mind. Instead they tuck it away, just as they tuck away the letter. The scent of it seems to linger in their nose long after it should. It is a scent that they know Thenvunin likes. A deliberate perfume? They suppose they can easily imagine him scenting his letters. Uthvir breathes in a few times, almost trying to keep hold of it as they take off from their tree, and wing their way towards the specified meeting grounds.
The lake mentioned is not terribly large, but it is beautiful. Scenic, in its views of the forest. It is fed into by mountain streams, and holds a great many fish. Sometimes mortals come, mostly for the fish, or the surrounding game. A few pilgrims have passed through on occasion, too. They usually recognize Uthvir for what they are, but so far none have been disrespectful. It is a safe enough place; though less secure than either of their spirit homes, or even Uthvir’s tree itself.
But then, it is almost somewhat more neutral ground than many of those places. Perhaps that is something Thenvunin needs too, for some reason.
They spot the Fox at a fair distance.
He is sitting at the small wooden dock a mortal fisherman had built at the lake shore ages ago. As Uthvir lands nearby, they are given pause by his countenance.
The tiredness that seemed to plague him every time they saw him at court does not seem to be present. If anything, Thenvunin looks nearly radiant. He is wearing a robe they gave him; the one they saw him in that particular night they met outside of Stalking’s chambers. His hair is loose. A few motes of foxfire drift around him as he sits and brushes it, and stares out towards the clear lake waters.
There is something… off.
Uthvir lands further away than they ordinarily would. Not certain what it is; or if it is just the surprise of seeing Thenvunin in a relatively good state.
He notes their landing anyway. At the sight of them his face lights up. Uthvir’s heart skips a beat - how long has it been since they saw him smile? And so rarely like that, just full of pure delight. Even a faint note of triumph, as if Uthvir’s arrival has just proven something to himself. They feel their skin heat, a little. They move closer automatically, draw like a leaf on the current.
“I got your message,” they say.
“And you came,” Thenvunin replies, with a long sigh of relief. “Oh, Uthvir. Can you ever forgive me?”
They pause.
“Forgive you? For what?” they wonder.
“I have been such a fool,” Thenvunin tells them. He sets the brush in his lap, and turns his gaze downwards. “You have shown me such kindness. Such generosity. Far more than I deserve, and I have been ungrateful for it.”
“I told you, you do not have to be grateful,” they reply. Something tugs at the back of their mind. An unease that cannot quite place the source of. Disbelief, perhaps? After months of watching Thenvunin avoid them, this turnabout is surprising…
Thenvunin lets out a delicate sniff, and brings his sleeve up to his face. A tear tracks down his cheek.
“See?” he says. “You are too kind to me. I yearn for your embrace, but I have been too cowardly to admit it. My heart swells with the memory of your kindness, but I know I am undeserving of it. My lips miss your lips; but how could I ask for even one last kiss?”
Uthvir starts moving closer again. Drawn in by their growing distress over Thenvunin’s upset. He buries his face into his sleeves as they get closer, curling in on himself and seemingly oblivious of their approach.
Carefully, they reach out, and set a hand on his shoulder.
“What is all this? What are you saying?” they ask him. Their own voice feels odd as they speak. There is something… about the air…?
But then Thenvunin looks up, and they are caught by the brightness of his eyes. Beautiful and warm, like the sunset. He places his hands on their chest, and leans up towards them. His collar slips, and bares a pale shoulder. His lips part. The heat in the air feels electric, like a budding storm. Motes of foxfire catch at the edges of Uthvir’s wings.
“Oh, my love. Kiss me…?” he asks them, breathless and beseeching.
Uthvir is halfway to closing the distance between them when they stop. The niggling feeling in the back of their mind finally pushing through the thick air to resolve into a single, clear thought, as they looked into the Fox’s amber eyes.
Thenvunin’s eyes are green.
Their wings snap outwards. They close a hand around the Fox’s throat, tight enough to draw blood with their claws. The little seed of hatred in them flares out, and feeds into a sudden, reflexive rush of magic as they identify the illusions and beguilement enacted upon them. The tension the air, the building storm, it breaks - but not in a flood of passion.
Instead it snaps in a crack of lightning, a tremble of the ground. Uthvir’s aura flashes bright as they purify the shore, with a blast strong enough to turn the lake waters choppy, and strip the illusions from the Fox in their grasp. One tail becomes four. Stalking scrambles at the arm around his throat as Thenvunin’s features melt away. But something in Uthvir still feels sluggish; caught. Stymied by the magic…
…Woven into the folds of his outfit.
Thenvunin’s outfit. That Uthvir gifted to him.
Too late they realize that the trap has still been sprung, that Stalking is only trying to loosen their grip with one hand. The flare of pain in their chest is hot and sharp. They do not need to look to know that they have been stabbed. They can feel the bite of cold steel in their flesh. Piercing a gap in their armour. And they can feel the pull at their magic, the Fox’s spells trying to drain them, freezing them in place. Stalking closes a hand around their wrist as they tighten their grip, and he burns their flesh.
“Let go,” he grits.
His free hand twists the knife in their chest, until Uthvir grabs him with their own. Their blood spills onto the boards of the dock. They struggle to tighten their own grip, fighting the white-hot pain and the scent of their own burning flesh.
They bare their teeth, and with a burst of defiant energy, shove the both of them aggressively forward.
The knife bites deeper. Stalking’s body crashes against theirs; tails writhing, flames scorching up their arm.
But the momentum is enough to knock them both off of the edge of the dock and into the lake.
Cold waters engulf them. Shining bright with Uthvir’s guardianship bond to the region, and finally breaking the last layer of bewitchment. The leaden feeling leaves their limbs, even as the pain seems to lance through them all the more fiercely. Uthvir keeps their hold on Stalking as he struggles. His fires flicker and snuff out in the choppy waters. Uthvir’s wings, in turn, are weighed down by the lake; too hard to maneuver within the lake.
A wave pulls them back, just as Stalking struggles with both hands to break their grip. And it’s enough to yank them away.
In a desperate rush, the Fox scrambles for the surface. Uthvir tries to swim after him. Folding their wings flat, asking the lake to help but only a moment too late - the Fox heaves himself back onto the dock. His fires flare, and before Uthvir can reach him again, he has flung his way through a hastily summoned portal.
The opening snaps shut behind him.
With a snarl, Uthvir strikes the post of the dock instead. Their nails dig into sealed wood, and crack it neatly in half.
That… that fucking…
Their blood spills into the water. The skin of their arm is covered in long, angry burns, and the blackened tatters of their sleeve.
Thenvunin, they think, with cold dread. He has Thenvunin.
And the little seed of hatred is nourished into bloom.
 ~
 Thenvunin is trying to open a portal to his home.
The corner of the palace he has managed to retreat to is more secluded than most, and that is a good thing. Because he is beginning to panic, and it would not do to have such a sight be seen.
He had been feeling tired all day. The creeping, clawing exhaustion, which Lord Stalking had explained to be a lingering response of having broken Uthvir’s curse on him. It has been enduring for months now, though, with no clear end in sight. Thenvunin had almost begun to think it was worsening, rather than improving. But his lord had allayed his fears yesterday, showing him the vibrance of his own fire. Explaining that it was only that Thenvunin was tired and needed rest.
Still, he had requested to meet today. Only to fail to arrive at their intended spot.
Thenvunin had come looking for him at the palace, and had been trying his best to make discreet inquiries when all of a sudden a wave of disorientation had struck.
And now he is sitting on a stone bench, near an empty segment of the palace pond network, trying not to give in to the rising terror in his chest as his hand trembles and his fires flicker, and no portal will open at his command.
Something is wrong.
Something is very, very wrong…
“Thenvunin!”
He nearly cries in relief at the sound of Lord Stalking’s voice calling for him. Dropping his arm, he gazes blearily down towards the far side of the garden.
“My lord…” he manages to call back. The light is too bright. He can hardly see Stalking, but for the blurry shape of many tails. At least, not until he gets close. Then Thenvunin can only frown in consternation, bewildered as he sees the lord running towards him. As he realizes that he recognizes the soaked outfit that the man is wearing, as one of Uthvir’s cursed gifts.
Consternation turns to worry as he sees the blood on his lord’s throat.
“What happened?” he asks. Trying to muster himself, but still, somehow, wavering on the bench. Lord Stalking’s gift feels far too heavy today, yet his fingers keep slipping every time he tries to take it off.
“Oh, thank goodness you are alright!” the four-tail says. He grabs Thenvunin by the arms and hauls him to his feet, ignoring his soft gasp of protest. His grip is still strong, even if there are obvious signs of injury on him. Thenvunin sways and loses his balance, only to be dragged insistently back towards the garden entrance.
“What…?” he asks again.
“It was Uthvir!” Lord Stalking tells him. “That wretched Tengu. They attacked me, they would have killed me!”
Thenvunin’s mouth goes dry with horror. But his mind still spins with confusion. Lord Stalking drags him stumbling along, as his heart beats too fast and his breaths come shallow, and the sinking feeling beneath his skin worsens. The necklace is starting to feel as though it burns.
“Why are you wearing…?” he manages.
Lord Stalking shushes him.
“I can explain more later,” he says. “Right now I need to get you to safety, before-”
Lord Stalking cuts off abruptly, and whirls them both around. Thenvunin loses his balance entirely, and nearly crumples to the ground. Only the hands on him will not permit it. Ordinarily that might be a relief, and it almost is - at least, until he feels one hand close around his throat instead, with the other presses him firmly in front of Lord Stalking. Turning them both to see the blur of dark brown wings; the figure of a furious Tengu suddenly blocking the entrance to the garden.
With a curse, Lord Stalking drags them both backwards. He lets go of Thenvunin with one hand for barely a second, and when it comes back, it is holding a knife.
Thenvunin thinks, for a moment, that Lord Stalking means to defend them both with it.
“Stay back!” the lord cries at Uthvir, pressing the blade too hard against Thenvunin’s stomach. “One move closer, and I kill him.”
Kill who?
Uthvir stops where they are. Their wings are spread; their eyes are hard.
There is a fury about them that is frightening. It is still, and sharp, like their countenance. Intent as any hunting bird; but burning with hatred. Such hatred that makes Thenvunin inwardly quail, even as his thoughts continue to swim in confusion. Uthvir is here to kill him. Uthvir has attacked Lord Stalking.
But Lord Stalking is dressed so strangely, and the knife he is holding is pressed close to Thenvunin; not angling at Uthvir.
And he just said…?
One move closer, and I kill him?
“What makes you think I am concerned with that?” Uthvir asks.
That seems like a good question. What exactly is Lord Stalking hoping to accomplish with this tactic? It would be better for them to just sound the alarm, wouldn’t it? The palace has guards…
Lord Stalking scoffs.
“Oh, please,” he says. “You think you can deny it? I saw the gifts you gave him. Even after he had refused you, you were still sending them, weren’t you? And I listened to the rumours. The mysterious, aloof Tengu who cannot be bothered with court, suddenly turning up at every corner? Granted, I have no idea why you would fixate so much on this pathetic sack of fur. But your kind are known for some aberrant tastes.”
Uthvir glares.
Lord Stalking presses the knife hard enough that Thenvunin feels the cold bite of it, just shy of cutting into him.
He reels as Uthvir raises their hands, and the picture of events slowly disassembles itself, and then puts itself back together again.
“Alright,” Uthvir says. “So, we are at an impasse. If you hurt him, you lose your shield, and I will kill you.”
A portal opens up nearby. Unlike Thenvunin’s, Lord Stalking’s tend to require anchors. Thenvunin had thought it merely a preference; something to make the image of them look more pleasing. But it must in fact be a necessity, if he is still doing it in these circumstances. And the only usable anchor in this quiet segment of garden is the patch of wall next to the entrance. Closer to Uthvir than not.
“That is why you are going to let us walk out of here,” Stalking says.
Uthvir’s eyes narrow.
“If I let him leave with you, it is as good as a death sentence,” they reply.
Lord Stalking tightens his grip on Thenvunin’s throat.
“If you let me leave, and swear not to chase me, then I will equally swear to send him back to his miserable little hovel. Still breathing,” Lord Stalking counters.
He begins to move towards the portal. Conjuring a few flames when Uthvir does not move away from it. The Tengu stares them down, but as the foxfire flicks towards Thenvunin’s head, they take a reluctant step back. And then another. Clearing the way, as Stalking moves, and Thenvunin is dragged, and Uthvir watches them with intensity that seems to grow by the second.
Their gaze catches Thenvunin’s, and holds it for a solid moment.
I’m sorry, Thenvunin thinks. He feels like he is twisting from the inside out. He had thought… he had believed… and all this time, it was Stalking who was taking advantage of him. He should have seen it. The necklace. The eagerness to claim Uthvir’s gifts from him. As they pass closer, he sees blood tricking down to Uthvir’s belt. And burn marks on their right forearm, visible through the tatters of a scorched sleeve.
He remembers Lord Stalking’s bloodied throat.
As they draw near to the gate, he feels Stalking turn - just briefly - to glance towards it. The hand at his throat unthinkingly loosens.
With the last of his strength, Thenvunin leans forward, and then snaps his head backwards. Hard enough to smash his skull directly against Lord Stalking’s face. He hears a resounding crack and feels the knife at his gut slip away, pain distracting his captor.
Uthvir rushes forwards, throwing a blade that Thenvunin only registers as a brief glint in the air, before he hears the wet thunk of metal piercing flesh. Lord Stalking cries out in pain. And in a move of desperation, he shoves Thenvunin forward into Uthvir’s path, and flings himself into the open portal.
Thenvunin has no hope of keeping his feet. He crashes against Uthvir, as his vision swims. His ears ring with the sound of a portal being shut too quickly; the scent of smoke briefly bursting through the air, and leaving scorch marks on the wall behind it.
Uthvir curses.
“Thenvunin!” they then exclaim, urgently.
The necklace burns like fire.
The last thing Thenvunin registers is the sight of their hand, burning, too, as they yank it off of him. Metal warps to ugly black sludge, falling from Uthvir’s glowing claws.
Then he passes out.
 ~
 When he wakes up, his head is pounding.
He does not know how long he lies in place with his eyes closed, trying to escape the angry hammering inside his skull. It feels like it lasts for a long time, though, as the pain consumes his focus, and movement is simply too nauseating to bear. Opening his eyes only subjects him to painful bursts of light, that make the whole thing worse.
He cannot think. He just lies in place, breathing, wishing in a bone-deep way that the pain would quiet. Trying to escape it with unconsciousness again.
At some point, he becomes aware of fingertips on his forehead. The touch is light, and cool.
Gradually, the pain in his skull eases. The touch withdraws, as Thenvunin draws in a few more breaths, and feels tears of relief slip from the corners of his eyes. The abating migraine lets him finally become aware of other hurts. His throat is dry, and aches. His chest feels oddly numb. His limbs are tingling and heavy, leaden, and he feels weak.
Drained.
Drained?
Memory comes back all in a rush, then.
Uthvir!
Thenvunin opens his eyes sits bolt upright.
It is a terrible mistake.
The pain in his head stabs like a knife, and his stomach flips. He dry heaves and collapses back down onto something soft. Trembling as colours swim in his vision. Red and white and green. His abdominal muscles scream from the effort of sitting up. His tail twists. Hands press to his shoulders and roll him to his side, as he heaves again. The reflex conjures of flares of pain, like white-hot pokers in the otherwise numb sea of his chest.
“Easy,” a voice says. “Shh. You’re safe.”
Uthvir’s voice. Not Lord Stalking’s.
Oh, thank the gods.
The blind terror in him releases its hold enough for him to stay still, and shut his eyes. Focusing again on the senses of his body, on trying to gain some equilibrium with it all. He does, after a moment, raise a hand up to his neck. The skin there feels ragged, rough - like a healing wound. It hurts to touch. But there is no chain on him.
Fingers brush tentatively across his temple. Pulling hair away from his face. His breaths rasp in his own ears, when the pounding of his skull abates again.
Eventually, careful hands roll him onto his back again. One of them brushes his cheek, while the hard rim of something presses to his lips. Thenvunin doesn’t feel bold enough to try opening his eyes again, and something in him clenches distrustfully at the prospect of parting his lips. Irrational fear weighing him down. No, don’t make me.
 A murmured apology drifts down to him.
Then another. The hard object at his mouth is withdrawn. A moment later, something softer replaces it. Soft and warm, gently coaxing. Thenvunin parts his lips. Some hazy corner of his mind recollecting passion and care, easing the knot of suspicion in his chest. As the taste of river water lands on his tongue, it eases more. Oh, he thinks. Alright. He opens his mouth, and drinks a few more kisses. The water slides, cool and soothing, down his throat. It helps to ease the pain. Helps to clear the drumbeats from his mind, and the burning from his insides. His breaths stop rasping. Everything eases enough for him to feel his consciousness slide away, too, carried like the currents. Gently lulling him towards a soft darkness that offers a blessed reprieve.
When he wakes for the second time, the ache in his skull is down to a manageable throb.
He blinks his eyes open, muzzily, and sees moonlight. Soft and silver, as it spills through the opening of his bedroom window.
For several minutes he lies on his bed mat, and follows the path of the light to where it lands on an empty square of floor. His thoughts and memories do not take their time in returning to him. For a moment, he almost wishes they would. His body still aches, but there is a sinking feeling in his chest which has nothing to do with physical pain. Guilt, and shame, and a wretched kind of horror. There is an angry voice in his head. Outraged. How dare Lord Stalking take advantage of him? If only that voice could be louder than the other one. The one that seems to stare down at Thenvunin with his own disgust, with pure recrimination.
You fool.
 You unparalleled fool.
It takes him a long while to muster the strength to sit up.
When he does, something drifts down from his chest, and lands on his lap. He blinks uncomprehendingly down at the feather. The large, brown feather, perfectly formed. Soft and so seemingly innocuous against the blanket placed atop him.
Then he brings a hand to his mouth, as tears sting at his eyes, and the feelings inside of him all crack open and come apart. Breaking with him, as a flood of sobs suddenly wrack his frame. His tears drop down onto the feather. His hair falls forward, and blocks them both from the moonlight, as he weeps. Oh, how lucky that he is alive. Oh, how terrible his foolishness. Oh, Uthvir. His fingers tremble as he finally reaches for the feather. They were kind to him, they were genuinely kind to him, and they helped him. By all rights they should have let Lord Stalking - let Stalking - drive the knife into his gut. But they didn’t. Thenvunin had believed Lord Stalking. Had thought the very worst of them, because they were a disreputable Tengu, and Stalking was a lordly Fox.
They were hurt, too.
He gasps as he remembers. Swallowing past a throat that is dry again, he pushes aside the blanket. He is naked beneath it. There are bandages wrapped around the top of his chest, and covering the skin of his neck and collar. He searches blearily for a robe, and finds a small tray set out with a covered jug of cold broth and a cup. But he has to muster his strength to make it to the closet door to find his old robe hanging on the handle, and then remember the fate of the newer one. Gone, along with all of Uthvir’s gifts. Taken by Stalking - given into his own hands by Thenvunin’s foolishness.
His lips thin, the angry voice inside of him getting a bit stronger as he plucks up his robe.
It is exhausting to actually put it on.
But he manages. Sliding the loose sleeves on, and tying the belt to preserve some semblance of manners, before he tackles opening the screen of his bedroom.
The rest of his house is quiet, and mostly dark. Only a few of the foxfire sconces are lit, and they are not burning bright. Thenvunin uses the wall to guide him as he takes careful steps, and looks around.
“Uthvir?” he calls.
No answer.
With increasing concern, he makes his way towards his front door. It is open, he notes. The air outside feels clear, at least, as he pauses to catch his breath. The borders of his property have not collapsed; a lucky thing, and probably a closer call than he would want to admit. A low wind passes by, too, and that is also promising. The grass has died in a few patches. He can see the brittle contrast of it against the greener parts in the moonlight. But some white petals drift along with the breeze.
His tree!
He turns, expecting to see the damage; and freezes at the sight which greets him.
The pear tree is blossoming.
Still small, but hale. His eyes drift down from the snowy white blooms, and gently swaying branches, and follow the dark line of the trunk to where a single, glowing feather has been pressed against it. The brown plumage outlined by the gleam of its magic.
Tentatively, Thenvunin makes his way over. It is harder to cross the garden, with nothing to brace himself. And as he slowly draws closer, the glow on the feather begins to fade. He tries to move more quickly. But by the time he reaches the tree, it is entirely gone. He gets near enough to see the feather itself vanish, turning to a few motes of dust. It leaves behind a feather-shaped mark on the trunk of his pear tree.
Reaching out, Thenvunin presses his fingertips to the soft indentation.
The tree thrums with life. A soft sigh escapes him, and he presses a hand fully to the mark, before leaning against the trunk. Safe. For a moment the relief is overwhelming. And the feel of the tree’s life force against his skin is soothing; old magics of fertility and growth, nature and deep roots, fortifying him against the hollow pain in his bones. But then his foot strikes something. Jostling an object near the tree roots. He looks down, and sees a dark square. With some effort he bends over and manages to pick up the little wooden box, resting by his tree.
He hesitates. Just a moment. Fearful in a way that he cannot name.
Then he opens the lid.
Three more feathers are nestled inside the box. Over top of them is a single piece of cardstock. Thenvunin hesitates again, before angling it towards the moonlight in order to read.
Use them. Feel better.
 - Uthvir
Thenvunin carefully puts the card back into the box, and makes certain to close it properly, before he sinks down to the base of the tree and loses himself to his tears again.
 ~
 Stalking shoves Thenvunin.
Uthvir sees the chain around his neck turn black as night. They see his skin turn grey as ash. They catch him, hurriedly reaching their burnt hand for the cursed item. A swell of purification magic comes at their call, eager in the face of such ugliness. Internally they freeze - letting the predatory Fox lord go, because there isn’t much choice, because Thenvunin is dead weight in their arms and they cannot see him breathing.
They destroy the necklace, reducing it to its impurities and flinging black sludge from their claw tips, but the damage is already done.
The flesh around Thenvunin’s neck is a noxious wound, burned in a circle around his collar. To Uthvir’s horror, as they hold him, his grey skin begins to glow with a weak light. Motes of spirit energy start to rise from him; the surest sign of death, as the natural magic in his body attempts to return to the earth around them.
“No.”
They act quickly. Only one path to take to save him, now, so that at least makes the decisions easy. They need to get him to the Spirit World, but most specifically, to the plane where any energy he loses will be fed back into his own being. Uthvir wrenches open a portal to Thenvunin’s home, and scoops him into their arms.
Motes of precious of light trail behind them as they leap through.
Things do not look good. They observe it with a clinical eye as they run towards Thenvunin’s tree, still holding him in their arms. The house is dark, and the grass is turning brown in places. The pear tree itself has no leaves nor blossoms. Its branches are withered, and even as they draw closer, they see the bark of the tree beginning to shrivel.
Uthvir lays Thenvunin down atop the roots. He needs energy, first. Reaching for their wings, they brace themselves as they pluck a primary feather. The pain lances straight to their spine, and blood trickles from the wound. Healing that will take a while, but their focus is on the Fox lying before them as they press the feather to the drunk of the tree, and call upon their contract with the Dark God.
I need strength.
Purple-black magic cracks around the feather. The feel of it coursing through them is always somewhat alien; strange. Like using someone else’s tools. Which, in a way, is precisely what they are doing. But it works, and that is what matters. The dark gleam engulfs their feather and wraps itself in ribbons around the trunk and branches of the tree, with a boost of power that followers their intent.
The glow begins to fade from Thenvunin. His skin turns from ashen grey to simply pale. Uthvir puts a hand just over his mouth, and feels faint breaths against their palm.
Gradually, the dark energy abates. Their own magic, bound up in the feather, remains. It halts the decay of the tree, and the spread of the dying plants on the grounds. The darkness of Thenvunin’s house eases; though the foxfires do not light themselves again. A distant wavering at the borders also abates, but Uthvir can taste the tenuousness of it all, still. Can just faintly sense malevolent spirits gathering at the outskirts. Drawn in by the scent of weakness and opportunity.
With as much care and speed as they can balance, they strip Thenvunin and take stock of his injuries. He is thin and bruised in some places, but the worst is by far the ugly circle on his chest. It still reeks of poisonous magic.
Folding his clothes, they tuck the bundle beneath his head, and begin to tend to the wounds.
 ~
 It takes three days before Thenvunin no longer seems at risk of vanishing into light and dust on the wind.
Uthvir is not actually a healer by trade, but they cannot leave his side for long enough to fetch a better one. Their energies are required to keep things stable, and Thenvunin has no servants. And their own servants and allies cannot find them here. So Uthvir stays, doing the best they can with what they know. They purify his wound until the scent of poison is gone, rinsing it with cleansed water and covering it with a latticework of spells, and repeating the act as needed. Thenvunin wakes a few times, but never with any great cognition. They try to get him to eat and drink when he does, but he does not always understand.
Remembering the times when reasoning with him during his rut could be difficult, Uthvir resorts to feeding him drinks with kisses. A twist of guilt stirs in their chest, as they cannot help but feel as if they are taking advantage. Some part of them enjoys the feel of his lips against their own. Of being close to him again, after so much time spent in avoidance. It reminds them of the ruts, too, but they push those thoughts aside. The point is not to kiss Thenvunin. He is ill and weak; the point is that he accepts the drinks from their lips, where he will refuse to sip from a cup or bowl. And it seems to calm him down, too. Perhaps convincing some corner of his mind that this is just the exhaustion of his season; relieving him from the fear of what has gone on.
When he is sleeping, Uthvir soaks a small cloth in water and uses it to wet his lips.
They keep him by the tree for the first day. Until the shriveled bark begins to smooth, and a few green leaves start to bud on the branches. Then they carry Thenvunin inside, to make him more comfortable.
They are not quite prepared to see the interior of his house.
Uthvir holds Thenvunin in their arms for a moment, and comes up short. Staring at the bare walls and floor, the sparse furnishings littered throughout. There is not a trace of anything they gave him. The decorations, the pillows, even the rugs are all gone.
It makes a grim kind of sense, they suppose. But for the first time since they hurried him here, Uthvir spares a moment to indulge their hatred of Stalking. Did that Fox take all of what they had given him? No wonder his beguilement nearly worked on Uthvir. Such items would have given the fox advantages, both in terms of seeming like Thenvunin, and also in terms of subverting the notice of Uthvir’s own defenses. Appearing much like a gift himself. But truly, to strip even the cushions from Thenvunin’s bedroom, to take nearly every painting from his walls, as well as the clothes from his closet… or did Thenvunin get rid of it all of his own accord?
The second thought brings them up short again. Before they shake it away, and then carry on to what comfort can be found in Thenvunin’s little bedroom.
It is not important, they remind themselves.
They are not like Stalking. Not like… others. They know the limits of consent, the mandates of autonomy. Thenvunin is not sworn to them. He may do what he pleases, and if it pleases him to cut ties with them entirely, then there is nothing they can do.
…But if Stalking did take it all, then it is just one more reason for Uthvir to focus on getting it back.
They wince a little as they settle Thenvunin onto his bed mat. And once they have him on it, they pause to check their own wounds. Their wings ache from pulled feathers, and the burn marks and stab wound are taking longer to heal than usual. But that is not surprising, given that Uthvir has more pressing things to spend their energy on. Their injuries are healing, too, albeit slowly. Being inside the house reminds them of the existence of bandages. They pull themselves from Thenvunin side just long enough to look for some, and to their relief, find a box of such things stowed away in one of the closets. They bring it back to the bedroom, and claim a bandage for wrapping their stab wound. Before they cleanse Thenvunin’s injured collar again, and wrap it with several others. Letting them ease up on their use of magic. Which is good, because their arms were starting to go a little numb from it all, and they have used up all the favours of their contract for the time being.
The next few days pass more easily than the first. As Thenvunin settles, they gain enough confidence to move between his bedside and his tree. The foxfire sconces begin to flicker, and gain light again. Thenvunin sleeps, but the nature of that sleep seems to shift. Deepening and relaxing into a healing rest, rather than persistent unconsciousness. By the third day, Uthvir’s wounds have healed down to scars, and Thenvunin’s skin is pink. His own injury no longer bleeding. Uthvir checks and double-checks, and finally determines that it would be safe to leave him now. They pull some feathers to leave behind, just in case. The lingering aura of their magic will help finish his recovery, and also warn them if anything malevolent attempts to breach the boundaries of his home.
And then they leave.
Stalking has a three day head start. It could not be helped, but so long as he is out there, he remains a danger.
They feel an enormous amount of trepidation as they go, even so. Bracing themselves once the portal has closed behind them. Waiting to feel the alarm, as if Stalking could somehow have been prowling at the boundaries of Thenvunin’s domain. Biding his time for the first moment when Uthvir would turn their back.
It all remains quiet, though.
And the presence of their own favourite tree has a greater effect on them than they might have expected. They take a moment to lean against the trunk. Wings spread, as the energy of it sinks into them. A few of their torn feathers regrow. The primaries they used still need more time, and that means no flying. But Uthvir can do without. They fold their wings to better conceal the damage, and then set out. Heading for their own household, first, to regain even more energy, and check in with their servants. It is not uncommon for Uthvir to be gone for long stretches of time, but news of the fight had somehow spread out from the court of the gods, and they find their servants uncommonly relieved at their return and filled with questions. And, fortunately, having foreseen Uthvir’s needs, some of their scouts of have been keeping an eye out for the Fox known as Stalking.
Unfortunately, none of them have gained much in the way of leads.
‘Lord’ Stalking, it seems, has retreated in full. At a guess, Uthvir would suppose that the man has gone to his own household in the Spirit World. None of his servants have been seen at court or in the usual markets since their conflict. Though it has only been a few days; more than enough time for a spirit to simply hole up in their territory. One such as Stalking, with no mortal grounds to defend, would undoubtedly be able to stay in such hiding for months at a time.
Uthvir stays at their household long enough to eat and drink, before heading to their next destination - the court of the gods.
They need someone who knows where, in the Spirit World, Lord Stalking’s household is.
For now, that means interrogating his known lovers and acquaintances.
Uthvir strides into court to find the atmosphere alight with rumours and interested glances. The ‘excitement’ clearly having had some time to accumulate. They find themselves impatient with it. But they observe the proper protocols all the same. They confer with the guards, who have interest in their report on events. And they find themselves interrogated by the kirin of one of the higher deities. Lord Tasallir manages the invitations and records of those who are welcome - or not - in the courtly halls. Uthvir is somewhat surprised that he would consider banishing Lord Stalking. But apparently, they are not the only one who has been looking into the predatory Fox’s past.
Albeit, it seems, for different reasons.
“Four months ago, you submitted a request to the archives of my patron, investigating the genealogy of this ‘Stalking’,” Lord Tasallir explains. Like most kirin, he is tall and lovely, pristine but very austere. He looks like a painting, and rather acts like one, too. Moving very little; though, given the heavy finery he is draped in, that may be a necessity of his wardrobe as well. His red eyes are keen. “The paperwork crossed my desk. I noticed a discrepancy in the template. Upon investigating, I found more. And yesterday, it came to my attention that one of the clerks in my employ has been falsifying information for the sake of bribery.”
Uthvir pretends to be surprised, and convey the aura of one who has certainly never bribed a clerk in their life.
“How dishonourable,” they venture.
“Indeed,” Lord Tasallir agrees. “He and his contributions are now being thoroughly audited. In exchange for his life the clerk has promised his cooperation, and has admitted to forging documents of lineage on behalf of this vagrant Fox. Namely, the status of breeding he used to secure the adoption and patronage of a more courtly family.”
“So he isn’t a purebred Fox,” they surmise. That explains some things. They have rarely known the court to actually care much for the transgressions of power-grasping and manipulation. But lying about one’s bloodline is another matter to them entirely.
Lord Tasallir inclines his head.
“Likely not. Whatever his true lineage, it seems he has destroyed the records of such a thing. If they ever existed.”
Well. That puts paid to the idea of digging up any more family, Uthvir suspects. Not that they had much hope of succeeding on that front anyway; it was a line of investigation they were forced to abandon some time ago.
They lean back in their seat, and regard the kirin lord contemplatively.
“Why are you telling me this?” they wonder.
Lord Tasallir blinks.
“Because this Fox is in violation of the Law, and has violated the security of the archivists whose employ I oversee,” he says. “He is an inciter of chaos and an agent of lawless deception. He should be brought to trial; and if there is a trial, then there will be a need for testimony and evidence. I would like to secure yours.”
Uthvir lets out a breath, and folds their arms.
“I am just seeking to kill him,” they say, frankly. “Not bring him in.”
Lord Tasallir blinks.
“Certainly. If you find him before the guardians of the Divine Court do, you seem to have sufficient claim on his life. But I will have others searching for him. If he is brought in alive, I can interrogate him and correct the records,” the kirin explains. “If that eventuality should pass, I trust you wold have an interest in testifying against him to assure his due punishment?”
Uthvir waits for a moment. But that genuinely seems to be what Tasallir is after.
They nod.
“Yes,” they agree. “Do you need me to sign anything?”
The kirin lord carefully slides a sheet of paper over to them, and indicates a quill pen nearby. Uthvir takes a moment to read the legal contract, which really does simply seem to affirm their agreement to provide testimony in case of a formal trial. Nothing in it, to their surprise, inhibits their ability to just plain kill Stalking in challenge if they should find him on their own. It is, as near as they can tell, a standard template.
…Kirin are very strange, sometimes.
Uthvir signs their name, and finally excuses themselves from the office of the administrator.
It does add some more urgency to things, though. Despite Lord Tasallir’s interests in ironing out some paperwork, Uthvir remains set upon their course of just murdering Stalking very definitively.
Their audiences with the man’s known lovers and associates provide a few more interesting avenues, though Uthvir is wary of double-crosses, and one or two just seem to be stringing them along for the sake of gaining notoriety through the scandal. For several days they are consumed with meeting and searching, as their servants keep their eyes peeled in the Tanuki markets and put out word among the more rural spirit communities. Even venturing to some of the mortal courts, with tales of a man of Stalking’s more human-like description being a Fox in disguise, and a malicious one at that.
They feel it when Thenvunin uses up the last of the feathers they left him.
Which means he is alive, and with no whiff of danger, largely undisturbed. Uthvir cannot resist the urge to check on him, however. With their feathers used, their sense of his territory will wane. The guardian in them, perhaps, almost wishes to renew it. But practically speaking, they simply need to make certain that Stalking will not attempt to violate Thenvunin’s home without their knowledge. They suspect he has been there, after all. He knows where it is.
And Thenvunin may know where Stalking’s household is. Though the older Fox is a fool if he did not keep such things ambiguous from a person he was so set upon victimizing.
Thenvunin’s house looks… more normal, when they open the portal to the front to the front path of it. Uthvir waits a moment, taking in the atmosphere. Their primary feathers have grown back, and most of their own strength has recovered. But they were not nearly so badly injured. Thenvunin’s house is lit, though, with foxfire glowing from the windows. The plants are mainly healthy, with a few still-wilted exceptions here and there. The pear tree is blooming. Uthvir walks slowly, taking it in, until he sees Thenvunin emerge from one of the side doors.
At the same time, Thenvunin’s own gaze lands on them.
They both stop. Freezing in place for several moments. Thenvunin is wearing a light robe, and holding a book in one hand. His hair is loose. He looks tired, and too thin, still. The wound on his collar has healed into a circular scar, that seems to trail all the way towards the back of his neck.
Uthvir’s own throat aches in sympathy. They hope, for Thenvunin’s sake, that the scar is quick to fade, and does not linger as too many of their own tend to.
They look at it a little too blatantly, perhaps. After a moment, Thenvunin closes the collar of his robe more firmly, and their eyes move to his face instead. His own linger on the visible bands across their right forearm. Remnants of the burns they neglected.
“…Uthvir,” Thenvunin finally says, at last.
“Thenvunin,” they reply.
A low breeze ruffles the grass.
Another long pause follows.
“Are you… feeling better?” they venture.
“Yes. I… Uthvir, I…” Thenvunin clears his throat, and tucks his book into one of his sleeves, as he folds his arms in front of himself. “I must beg your forgiveness.”
“No,” Uthvir says swiftly, shaking their head. They raise a forestalling hand. “There is nothing-”
“Yes there is,” the Fox insists. Snaps, even. It brings them up short, before he lets out another long breath. His head bows. “I put you in terrible danger. I was… I fell for…”
“You were the one who was in terrible danger,” Uthvir interjects.
Thenvunin glares at their burn scars. They fold their own hands behind their back.
“I was the one who-”
“Stalking nearly killed you,” they interrupt, more firmly. “He might try again. And you are still weak. I take it that he knows where your home is?”
There is an awkward pause, as Thenvunin opens his mouth as if to argue something. But no words come. After a moment, he just deflates again. The rings beneath his eyes look too dark.
“He does,” Thenvunin admits. “But I will not let him back in.”
“You may not be able to keep him out,” Uthvir counters. They hesitate, but… it really does make sense, for security… “You should come to my home. My servants can help tend to you, and Stalking will not be able to find you there.”
Thenvunin looks at them with an expression they can only describe as ‘aghast’. They backpedal somewhat. He has had enough people pressuring and manipulating him for their own ends. And if Uthvir is being entirely honest with themselves… their reasons for wanting him in their own home are not purely pragmatic.
They missed him, perhaps.
“Not that you must accept, I would not force such a thing,” they say.
“I could not possibly,” Thenvunin insists.
Their heart sinks. Their wings drop, just a little.
“I would not do anything to… that is, you would be free to come and go as you pleased. You would not even have to see me, if you did not wish it. I will not be there often,” they assure him.
“It would be much too much,” Thenvunin says. “You have already… with, with the feathers, and… and all these things…”
He trails off, distress visible as he mumbles something about gifts and some other things that Uthvir does not entirely catch. After a moment he steadies himself against the exterior wall. Uthvir feels a rush of guilt, at having upset him so. They make their way closer, extending a hand but Thenvunin sinks down to sit upon his porch without their help. After a moment, they awkward put their hand back at their side.
“My apologies. I did not mean to upset you,” they say.
“You did not,” Thenvunin insists, in defiance of the evidence.
Uthvir supposes it is to be expected, though. He has just been under the thrall of a manipulative spirit, more powerful than himself. One with status and finery and, by all accounts, a fairly large household. In his place, Uthvir would also not be eager to put themselves under the control of another such spirit. Especially not while weakened and still regaining their strength. They let out a breath, and take a step back again. Ducking into a bow, as they let the idea go. Instead they reach into their pocket, falling to their backup plan as they pull a small wooden flute from the folds of their robes.
Gifts may also be questionable territory. But this is not one which Thenvunin would be required to wear.
“I carved this flute from the wood of my tree,” they tell him. “If you find trouble, you may play it. I will hear no matter where I am, and come to help.”
Thenvunin stares at the instrument in their outstretched hand.
He swallows, hard, and then ducks his head so that his hair falls forward. Hiding his face from them.
With another pang of guilt, Uthvir sets the flute onto the wood of his porch.
“I will just leave it,” they assure him.
“You should not,” Thenvunin says, so quietly they almost miss it.
“It is not dangerous,” they promise him. “You may check the magic yourself. You may have someone else check it. And I cannot… please, I cannot leave you without some defense. Not until Stalking is caught.”
“No, I…” Thenvunin begins. But then his voice cracks, and he seems to lose what composure he hand managed to gain. Uthvir wants very much to go over to him. To put a hand on his shoulder, and offer some comfort. But they stop themselves. Such impositions would likely only have the opposite effect. So instead they take another step back, and another. Leaving the flute, and offering a bow that Thenvunin likely does not see; and forcing themselves to step away. To withdraw, lest they take advantage of the situation, and prove themselves no better than Stalking.
It is a force of effort to step through the portal and leave.
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