#i knew there was something up with him when he held the beast back from iggy

[inlovewithquestionablecharacters]

John X Bob X Reader: Between the three of us.

a/n: ah yes a bull rider AU because i love me a cowboy and Wyatt and Lewis have played them so i hade visual inspo for this. Chefs kiss 🙂‍↔️.

Warnings: bull rider AU, smut, mutual pinning, childhood friends to lovers, threesome, pet names (darling and sweetheart), face sitting, hand job, blow job, thigh biting, dirty thoughts, cursing, cute ending, no use of y/n.

Word count: 5,8K ( so yeah...that happened)

The sun was beating down on your head. Your throat longed for water, but you didn’t move. You couldn’t miss this. You never had, and today wouldn’t be the first time. Your eyes kept flicking to the scoreboard, waiting for their names to pop up. But it was old and unreliable, so it was a futile thing to do.

Your boot clanged against the ground, throwing up dust. You could hear the bulls whining softly. You could smell beer and practically taste the salty sweat dripping down your body.

And then the speaker blared his name and the crowd went wild.

John Walker rushed out of the stable, hands gripping onto the bull for dear life. He needed to hold steady, keep his balance. Move with the bull, not against it. His body did exactly what it was trained to do, syncing with every twist and jerk of the animal. The seconds ticked by, but he barely noticed. His arm burned, his head spun, but his grip never faltered.

And then, in the blur of people, he found you.

It should’ve been impossible to spot you at the speed he was moving, but he knew exactly where to look. You were in your spot, like always during competitions. His eyes locked onto you, just another blur in the crowd he didn’t need to see clearly to feel.

Let go, John.

He heard your voice clear as day, even though he knew you probably hadn’t shouted a word. He felt it in his bones.

So he let go.

He flung off the bull’s back, hitting the ground with a dull thud as dust clouded around him. All around, people were shouting. He didn’t bother listening. He was too focused, forcing his eyes to find you.

Everyone else was watching the scoreboard.

But your eyes were on him.

And when you smiled, he just knew. He’d scored higher than the last guy.

You hadn’t left your spot, but John came to meet you a while later. He had his hat on now—something he hadn’t worn while riding—but his clothes bore the clear signs of battle. Dirt, sweat, scuffs. He looked like he’d taken on the beast and walked away with the better score.

The good thing was, he didn’t have to beat the bull.

He just had to beat the other bull riders.

“You were great out there.”

You pulled him into a hug, surrounding him with the scent of you. He lived for moments like this. The feeling of adrenaline still buzzing through his veins, combined with the warmth of your body. It always made him giddy. It had been like that for years, and he doubted it would ever change.

He turned to say something, but just as he released you, the speaker crackled to life again, announcing the name of the next bull rider.

Your head snapped toward the ring. Your hands clung to the railing as you lifted your body slightly onto the metal barrier that kept you safe from the bulls—just so you could see better.

Bob Reynolds.

He sprang into the arena, hair wild as the bull beneath him kicked and twisted, trying to throw him off. Bob kept his hand steady, his form tight, body loose where it needed to be and locked in where it counted. It wasn’t just about holding on, it was about how he held on.

John knew he shouldn’t be jealous.

You were always there for them. The two boys. It had been like that since childhood, and it stayed that way as you grew older. When they both took up bull riding, you called them crazy—but you showed up to every match.

You were their lucky charm.

Neither of them ever said it out loud. But they both knew.

It was you in the crowd that made them keep going.

John knew you cheered for him the same way you did for Bob—but it always felt different. The way you climbed the railing a little higher for Bob. The way your voice pitched just a bit louder. Maybe it was because John had always been on the other side, hearing you scream his name. Or maybe it was just because Bob was... different.

John tried to tear his gaze away, but his eyes kept flicking between Bob and the scoreboard.

Bob had made it to 6 seconds already. But he wasn’t letting go.

He was riding for style, for control, for the kind of ride that made judges nod and crowds roar.

“Come on, Bob.”

You whispered the words softly—but John heard them. His head snapped toward you.

Your body leaned over the railing in desperation. Bob didn’t want to just stay on—he wanted to ride like he owned the bull. The bad thing about this sport was that even when you were teammates, even when you were friends for years... it was still a competition.

Because this had never just been about bull riding.

The competition started long before the bulls.

The real ride?

The one for your heart.

And you didn’t even know it.

The sound of the buzzer pulled John’s attention back into the ring. Bob jumped off the bull, landing much more gracefully than John had. It was just another thing to compare himself to Bob—just another thing the brown-haired man was better at.

He watched Bob’s eyes meet yours; he could feel the tension in the air as you held his gaze. Then, with a smile, the other man turned around and disappeared into the arena, heading for the locker rooms.

A couple of moments later, Bob found you and John. He, too, was wearing a hat and showed clear signs of battle. You gave him a smile as he approached, tugging him into a warm hug just like you had done with John.

That was the thing about you—you always made it fair. You hugged them both, always held their hands, and laughed the same at their jokes. It made it that much harder to fight over you because you seemed so clueless to the clear tension. They felt like fools to fight for you. You were all friends. Whether they longed for something more or not, it didn’t matter.

“Well, that was impressive.”

It wasn’t clear who you were talking to—maybe both of them. But Bob was quicker.

“Had to show up John,” he teased lightly, though the heat in his gaze told you this was more than just friendly rivalry.

John’s jaw tightened. 

“You did. But don’t think it’s over.” 

His voice was calm, but you caught the edge—the challenge beneath it.

You always chalked it up to them being too high on adrenaline to remember they were on the same team when it came to most things. Sure, they competed against each other in the ring, but as soon as they were outside of it, the three of you were a unit.

The three of you continued to watch the other riders. Bob and John were itching for this to be over—they wanted to know who the winner was. Sure, they wanted to beat each other, but mostly, they wanted to beat the other riders.

You watched the rest of the competition with mild curiosity. You didn’t care much for the sport itself. You only came to support your boys, and anything beyond them was just background noise.

When the scores were finally tallied, you were glad to see that Bob and John had placed second and third, respectively. You expected them to grumble at each other about the rankings. You knew how bitter John could get when Bob outperformed him in competitions. But both of them were too focused on having lost to some random guy who’d come out of nowhere. They didn’t care much about the specifics of who placed where—they just didn’t like losing.

You knew they’d be tense for the rest of the night if you didn’t step in and do something about it, so you made a quick decision.

“Drinks on me,” you said with a grin.

The bar was lively, warm, and loud. Filled with the kind of rowdy energy that only small-town nights and cheap beer could conjure. You’d picked it on purpose. The music thumped through the speakers, a little too loud for conversation, but perfect for distraction.

Bob and John sat at a high-top table near the back, nursing cold drinks. Their shirts still clung slightly from the heat of the day, and dust lingered on their jeans like proof of the ride. You could see the frustration in both of them, even if they didn’t say a word about the results.

You’d danced a little when you first arrived. Light, easy movements just to shake off the lingering heat. Neither of them joined you. They just watched, sipping slowly, stealing glances when they thought the other wasn’t looking. You’d caught them, though. Both of them. Their eyes on you when they thought you weren’t paying attention. It wasn’t new, but tonight it felt… heavier. More loaded.

Then the mechanical bull started.

The crowd shifted toward it like moths to a flame, and before you could think twice, someone had pointed at you. Cheered. Dared you.

You looked back at John and Bob, mischief in your smile. 

“Think I could last eight seconds?”

John raised a brow, his mouth twitching. 

“Depends on the bull.”

Bob just smirked, but his gaze dragged over your body like he was already imagining it—your hips, your legs, the way you’d move. He lifted his drink and tilted it toward you. 

“Go show us what you’ve learned.”

So you did.

Climbing onto the mechanical bull was more awkward than you thought it’d be, but once the machine started moving, you found your rhythm. Sort of. The crowd whooped and laughed as you tried to hold on, your body rocking with each buck. You could feel your shirt clinging to your skin, the flush in your cheeks growing from more than just exertion. You didn’t dare look at the table.

But they were looking. Watching. Not speaking. Something tight settled between them as they took you in: legs squeezing the saddle, hands gripping the rope, body moving to stay on. It wasn't just a joke anymore. It wasn’t just fun.

Bob’s tongue darted over his lower lip.

John’s hand curled tighter around his glass.

When you finally tumbled off—laughing, breathless, and very much done—you pushed your hair back and waved at them before weaving your way back to the table.

“Okay,” you panted, flopping down between them, “I don’t know how the hell you two do that. That was exhausting.”

John chuckled under his breath. 

“You looked good up there.”

You turned toward him with a grin, then toward Bob. 

“Yeah? Should I consider a new career?”

Bob gave you a once-over, smile lazy but eyes still sharp. 

“You wouldn’t last a week.”

You leaned back in your seat, heart still racing—but not just from the ride. You could feel it again—that crackling, silent thing sitting heavy between the three of you. Their shoulders were brushing yours now, both of them so close it was almost stifling.

You reached for your drink, took a sip, then said casually, “Wanna go back to my place? I’m done with the bar scene.”

There was a pause. Barely a breath.

And then Bob nodded. 

“Yeah. Let’s go.”

John didn’t even hesitate. 

“Lead the way.”

They’d been to your house about a thousand times. It was a safe space. A resting zone. A place they could go to escape training or the responsibilities on the farm. Tonight wasn’t any different.

And yet, somehow, it was.

There was a static in the air that always seemed to follow the three of you around, but it was more intense tonight. More electric. You felt like if you so much as acknowledged it, you’d get shocked. So you pretended everything was as it always was—even though you knew it wasn’t.

The three of you were on the couch. Bob and John on either side of you. Your legs were draped over John’s, his hands resting on top of them. Your back was pressed against Bob’s arm, your head resting softly on his shoulder.

John wasn’t watching the television. His eyes were locked on your legs. It was a hot day, so you’d chosen shorts. That meant the skin of your thighs was on display, and his hands were just inches away. He didn’t touch. As much as he longed to, he didn’t. He just stared.

John thought about how your thighs would feel around his head. Thought about the weight of you on top of his face while he ate you out. Would you like the feel of his beard against your soft skin? Something told him you would.

He wanted to find out more than anything.

A soft moan echoed through the room.

John flinched. For a second, he thought the sound had come from him—had he really gotten so lost in his own thoughts that he let it slip? But then he looked up at the screen and realized where the sound had come from.

That dumb tennis movie you’d switched on had taken a turn. On screen, the characters kissed. Not just two of them—but three. Your body tensed slightly. Not out of embarrassment, but because… you were turned on.

And then something unexpected happened.

The two guys on screen turned to each other and kissed—hard. Bob’s head snapped toward John. And to his surprise, John was already looking at him. Something passed between them—silent, but impossible to ignore.

How had they not thought of this before?

Why go for you separately… when they could both have you?

You shifted, lifting yourself from where you’d been leaning against Bob. Your hand moved to grab the remote. You needed to shut this off before you started spiraling—before your thoughts made a mess of everything. But before your fingers could even brush the remote, John’s voice cut through the room.

“Leave it.”

You turned to look at him, lips slightly parted. His gaze burned, locked on yours. His hand gripped your thigh tighter than it ever had, holding you in place.

“Listen to him, sweetheart,” Bob said, voice low, his breath warm against your neck as his hand settled on your hip.

Your breath caught in your throat.

John’s hand was still gripping your thigh, hot and firm and undeniably present. Bob’s fingers at your hip curled tighter, grounding you as his lips brushed your ear—just barely.

You turned slowly, your gaze flicking between the two men. They were both watching you now, not the screen. John leaned in slightly, like he was waiting for a sign. Bob didn’t wait at all.

He kissed you.

It was gentle at first—an exploration more than a declaration—but it made your whole body burn. His lips were soft but hungry, like he’d been holding back for years and finally allowed himself a taste.

John’s fingers slid from your thigh to your waist as you kissed Bob, tugging you ever so slightly toward him. When you broke the kiss to breathe, John was already there, lips claiming yours in a way that made your knees weak, even sitting down.

His kiss was different—deeper, rougher, more desperate. Like he wasn’t just kissing you—he was starving for you.

And when you opened your eyes between those kisses, you realized Bob was watching the two of you with something raw in his eyes. It wasn’t just jealousy—it was something else.

Desire.

A desire to change places. Not with John, but with you.

You wondered how you’d never noticed it before. All those glances exchanged between them over the years shifted into something else—not looks of competition, but looks of longing.

When John pulled away, his lips slightly swollen, his thumb brushing your jaw, you didn’t have to say a word. None of you did.

You stood up, untangling yourself from the two men. They looked at each other briefly—both suddenly worried that maybe they’d gone too far. That maybe you didn’t want this, and that their unfiltered desires had broken the friendship.

But then you surprised them.

“Come on,” you nodded toward the hall. “Bedrooms this way.”

The bedroom was quiet except for the soft hum of the ceiling fan. Bob and John sat side by side on the edge of the bed, their eyes fixed on you, waiting. You could feel their anticipation like a tangible weight in the air. You took a slow breath, locking eyes with both of them before speaking in a low, steady voice.

“Close your eyes.”

Neither of them hesitated. Their lids fluttered shut, and the world shrank down to just the sound of your footsteps and the thump of your heart. It was amazing how much controle you had on them. As soon as you walked into the room you were the one in charge. You’d told them to sit. So they sat. You’d told them to wait. So they did.

Bob could hear the sounds of you peeling your clothes off. The unmistakable sound of denim hitting the floor made him clench his fists over his thigh. John wasn’t much better off. He caught the sharp intake of breath Bob let out when he heard your feet settle on the floor after you’d taken your clothes off. That, combined with the thought of finally getting to have you, made blood rush from John’s brain straight to his dick.

“Okay,” you whispered. “Open your eyes.”

You watched as both of their eyes snapped open in desperation. Their gazes roamed over your exposed skin. You weren’t completely naked—not yet anyway. You wore a lacy set, not exactly lingerie, but not granny panties either.

You walked over to them slowly, bracing one knee on the spot between them. They didn’t move, but their eyes never left yours. You were in control. That much was clear.

You leaned toward John first.

“You say I’m a lucky charm.”

You pulled John into a kiss, your hand moving to grab his blonde locks. He met you with the same desire you felt, a soft groan leaving his mouth as you pulled away.

You turned to Bob next.

“But there’s something you don’t know.”

You pulled Bob into a searing kiss. It was softer than John’s, due to the lack of stubble on Bob’s face, but it still held an intense desire. You pulled off of Bob with a small pop, a string of spit connecting you.

You lifted your body up so that you were looking at both of them, settled directly between them.

“Do you want me to tell you?”

They both nodded, and you couldn’t help but smile. You could have said anything to them in that moment, and they’d agree. The power was starting to go to your head.

You placed a hand on each of the men’s cheeks, your eyes moving from one to the other.

“Okay. The secret is that I always wear this set to your competitions.”

“Always?”

The word slipped from John’s mouth before he could stop it, causing you to look at him.

“Always.”

John’s mind raced through his memories. He remembered every hug he’d given you after watching you dance at the bar following competitions. Every night you’d sat between them on the porch, sipping moonshine after a tough day.

All those times you’d been hiding this black lace set beneath layers of clothing. Their hands must have grazed it a thousand times. But this was the first time they were truly seeing it.

It felt like a gift.

A gift he wanted desperately to unwrap.

“Why?”

The question came from Bob. Your head turned to look at him, brows furrowing as you tried to think of the reason.

“I guess,” you paused, trying to figure out if this was really the truth or if you were just making it up, “I guess I wanted to be prepared.”

“Jesus Christ.”

Your head snapped toward John.

“Oh, please. Don’t act like you two haven’t kept secrets too. I’m not blind.”

The two men exchanged glances. They knew they’d been obvious in their desire for you, but they hadn’t expected you to acknowledge it so openly.

“All those little glances... it wasn’t just the consequence of being sore losers, and you know it.”

That made both men look at you in confusion. They thought you meant their secret—well, not-so-secret—desire for you. But that last part made them realize you weren’t talking about that.

When they kept staring at you in silence, you let out a small sigh.

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of. I mean, I get it.”

“What do you get?”

“Come on, John. How long are you gonna keep denying it?”

“Denying what?”

You let out a small huff of disbelief.

“That you want to kiss him just as much as you want to kiss me.”

John’s head snapped to look at Bob, who was already staring at him. They held each other’s gaze in silence for a moment, both too afraid to move. Because if they did, it’d be real and that would complicate things.

You were about to do something yourself when Bob moved. His body launched forward, closing the gap between him and John. John’s body tensed at the feeling, his brain short-circuiting. But then he smelled Bob’s cologne, and his shoulders relaxed. He met Bob’s kiss with the same intensity, their lips molding into each other as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

As if it was meant to be.

You watched the exchange from between them. You didn’t feel left out. Far from it. You felt more entangled with the two of them than you ever had in your life. Plus, it was hot. It was so very hot to watch them make out. You hadn’t expected to enjoy it as much as you did, but the sudden wetness you felt told you otherwise.

You let your eyes flicker between them, your breathing growing heavier as their mouths moved against each other. The way Bob’s hands found John’s waist, fingers digging just enough to claim, and how John’s thumb traced light, teasing circles on Bob’s jaw. It was intimate. Something the three of you would share forever. 

Your own hands itched to touch, to pull them closer, to feel the heat that radiated from their skin. Slowly, your fingers slid up from your side, trailing lightly over John’s thigh, the rough denim a sharp contrast to your bare skin. John’s breath hitched at your touch, but he didn’t break the kiss. Instead, his eyes fluttered open just enough to catch yours, filled with raw need and a silent question. 

Your hand popped his button open, fingers moving slowly to guide the zipper down. John groaned into Bob’s mouth as your hand grazed his hard-on. The sound caused Bob’s eyes to snap open, curiosity getting the better of him. He found your hand immediately, his gaze zeroing in on John’s size. Even in the confinements of his boxers, he could tell John was well endowed.

John pulled away first, lips swollen and flushed, his voice a low, rough whisper. “You’re driving us insane.”

You smirked at him. John Walker held himself as a tough man—inside and outside the ring he was known as a beast of sorts, his temper flaring often. But the Walker in front of you was a different kind of man. A desperate man.

You’d done that.

Your chest couldn’t help but fill with pride.

Bob’s hands settled on your hips as you kissed John. He tugged you into his body, causing you to settle on his lap. John chased after you, shifting closer to Bob. You pulled away from John for a moment, turning your head to kiss Bob. John’s lips trailed down your exposed neck as Bob’s hands wrapped tighter around your waist. His hips bucked every so often, making you painfully aware of his growing bulge.

John’s eyes trailed down to your thighs as he kissed your neck. One of his hands found your skin, wrapping around your thigh. You gasped into Bob’s mouth as John squeezed roughly.

 “She likes that,” Bob said, his tone soft and teasing.

 “Yeah?” John asked, looking at you. 

You just nodded. John smiled and repeated the motion, his dick twitching in his pants as you whimpered softly.

 “Look at me.”

You moved your head so your eyes met John’s. Bob took that as his cue to kiss your shoulder blades. John’s hand moved to cup your cheek as he leaned close to whisper in your ear.

 “And if you were sitting on my face, would you like that?”

John’s heart raced as he asked, nerves flickering beneath the surface. It wasn’t that he doubted you would enjoy it—it was the desperate hope that you would, and the tiny possibility you might say no that made him tense.

But then you gripped his shoulder, a moan escaping your lips at the suggestion, and John’s whole body hummed with possibility.

 “Yes,” you gasped as Bob found your sweet spot. “I want to ride your face, John.”

John tugged you off of Bob, guiding you to your feet. You stood before him, chest rising and falling as you waited.

“Take those off for me.”

John turned to face Bob as you slid your underwear down. He pulled the brunette into a heated kiss, his hands trailing under Bob’s shirt. John’s nails raked over Bob’s abs as their lips met again. Then his hand moved lower, undoing Bob’s pants just as you had done his.

John felt your hands slip beneath his shirt from behind, the soft touch making him shiver. He hadn’t realized you’d sat behind him until your lips found his ear.

“You two are overdressed. Take these off.”

You rose from the bed, standing before them once more. John broke the kiss, releasing Bob as he stood up. Bob watched John tug his shirt off, breath hitching at the sight of the shirtless man.

“You too, Bob.”

His head snapped in your direction, noticing for the first time that your bottom half was bare. You made your way to him, settling your body on one of his thighs. There would definitely be a wet spot when you got up—you were certain of it. But you didn’t care. And neither did Bob.

“Need help?”

Bob nodded, lifting his arms so you could tug his shirt off. John watched as you placed soft kisses along Bob’s bare chest, his eyes drifting lower—down to where you were settled on Bob’s leg. That would be his face soon. He couldn’t wait.

Once the three of you were equally naked, John settled back onto the bed. You climbed up onto him slowly, dragging your body across his until you were right where he wanted you. Your thighs framed his face, but you didn’t lower yourself just yet. His hands came to rest on your hips, gentle but eager, urging you to sink down.

You stared down at him, hair falling slightly into your face. A flicker of insecurity passed through you—brief but noticeable. John saw it instantly. He leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on your thigh.

“Hey. It’s alright,” he said, his voice steady and comforting. “Just relax. I’ll be fine.”

“He can handle it, sweetheart.”

Bob’s voice came from just in front of you. Your head snapped up to look at him. He stood at the edge of the bed, giving you a soft smile before gently taking your hands and placing them on his shoulders.

“Hold onto me,” he said. “I’ve got you. Let him enjoy this. God knows he’s wanted it for a long time.”

“Fuck you, Bob,” John muttered from beneath you.

The brunette looked down at John, giving him a teasing smile.

 “Maybe later.”

John didn’t even have time to protest before you were sinking down onto him. Oh, he was in heaven. His grip on your thighs tightened as his mouth moved against you, hungry and unrelenting. Every whine that escaped your lips only spurred him on. You were already gushing around his face, the desire you’d held for both of them for so long making you impossibly wet.

Your nails dug into Bob’s bicep as you rocked your pussy against John’s face, chasing the high you’d been aching for. Bob pulled you into searing kisses every so often, devouring your moans like they were meant for him. John’s eyes snapped open each time he heard the sound of your lips meeting, the wet, needy kisses adding fuel to the fire already burning inside him.

The way Bob was positioned gave John a clear view of his dick. He could see the precum staining his boxers. He could see the way Bob thrust into the air ever so often. John could cum just by eating you out, and he probably would. But Bob needed some extra help. So, with a groan of reluctant need, John gently lifted you off him, just enough to speak clearly.

“Bob needs your help.”

You were so dazed that it took you a while to realise John had spoken. He seemed to notice this, teeth biting into your thigh to get your attention. The sound you let out was almost pornographic. John took a mental note to bite you more often. He wanted to get back to shoving his tongue inside you so he spoke again. His voice was lower this time, coaxing and clear.

“Help him out, darling.”

Your eyes flicked from John’s flushed face to Bob, standing breathless just inches away. You took him in for a beat, then gave a small nod. That was all John needed. With a satisfied smile, he pulled you gently back toward him, his hands already hungry again for your skin.

Bob's eyes closed as he felt you free him from his boxers. There was enough precum on his dick to make your job easy. You guided your hands around him, giving him soft strokes. Bob’s thighs spasmed slightly, nudging John's head softly. 

The action caused John's nose to bump into your clit. You let out a soft moan

“Do that again John.”

John did as you asked, head moving up so that his nose bumped into the bundle of nerves.

“Yes, like that! Please keep doing that.”

John gave you a nod of understanding, lips never faltering. You gave Bob a messy kiss before leaning down. You replaced your hands with your mouth, palms moving to rest on the bed as your engulfed Bobs dick. His hands moved to hold onto your head, not to push you just to steady himself. With the pressure John was pulling you towards you were having a hard time keeping your pace on Bob consistante. The brunette didn’t mind though, his hips moved involuntarily, helping you bring his pleasure along. 

You clenched around John's tongue, silently telling him you are close. John knew you wouldn’t last long and he wanted to hear you as you came. Which would prove a hard task with Bob's dick in your mouth. So just before you came John tugged your off Bob's dick, replacing your mouth with his hand as his mouth brought you to your peak. You clawed onto Bob’s body as you gushed onto John's face. 

“Oh John!”

Bob's eyes snapped to look down as your juices spilled onto the blonds face. The sight was enough to get him to the edge. He spilled onto the spot where you and John connected, his cum mixing with yours against John's face. It was dirty. It would have been disgusting if it wasn’t yours and Bob's cum. But because it was and because John had thought of this for so long it was enough to make his orgasm rush into him. He came in his boxers, hips rising from the bed as he did. 

Your body sagged onto Bob's chest. John let go of Bob's dick, his hand moving to gently guide you off his face. Bob helped him, tugging your body up so the blonde could slip out from beneath you. John's chest heaved as he tried to recover, one hand wiping the mix of you and Bob off his cheeks. His beard was a mess—he knew it—but he didn’t care.

You shifted beside him, moving from sitting to lying down. John opened his arms, letting you curl into his side. The bed dipped as Bob joined the two of you, settling into the space opposite John, forming a human sandwich with you as the filling. You sighed as Bob’s arms wrapped around your waist, his head tucking into the crook of your neck. One of his hands reached for John’s, and the blonde didn’t hesitate to intertwine their fingers.

John turned to glance at Bob, a soft smile tugging at his lips before he could stop it.

“We should’ve done this ages ago,” you said, your voice still a little wrecked.

“It’s not like we haven’t been trying, you know?” John replied.

“We haven’t.”

John’s head snapped up at Bob’s words. 

“What do you mean?”

“We weren’t trying to do… this,” Bob said, gesturing toward the three of you with his head. “We both wanted you—but only one of us to have you.”

Silence settled between the three of you. It was true. For as long as they could remember, John and Bob had been trying to outdo each other for your affection, never realizing you might want both of them.  And they’d definitely been too afraid to admit they might want each other, too.

“Well, I like it better this way,” you murmured, drawing their eyes back to you. 

“It’s always been the three of us. Why should that change now?”

The way you said it made it sound so obvious. And maybe it was. You’d always been a team—in work, in life, in loyalty. Why wouldn’t that carry over into this?

John’s thumb brushed over the back of Bob’s hand, grounding himself in the moment. Bob looked down at their joined fingers, then over at you nestled between them, and let out a quiet laugh.

“Well,” he said softly, “guess we’re in this together now.”

You smiled, warm and slow. “Finally.”

John let out a deep, content sigh, his free hand moving to rest on your stomach.

 “Not that I’m complaining, but… do you think we’re gonna be able to keep our hands off each other now?”

“Absolutely not,” you said, grinning.

Bob chuckled.

 “Speak for yourself. I’m already thinking about round two.”

John raised an eyebrow. 

“Just two?”

You snorted, burying your face into John’s chest as Bob laughed behind you.

“Well,” you murmured, voice muffled, “good thing we’ve got all night.”

And just like that, all the tension—the years of second-guessing, the competitive edge, the quiet longing—melted away, replaced by something deeper. Something real. The three of you lay tangled together in the sheets, limbs intertwined, hearts finally on the same page.

For the first time, it didn’t feel like any of you had to choose.

Because this time, you chose each other.

[fayelero]

ⓘ 03. BUT IM A CREEP !

⤷ ANGST ﹫ michael kaiser x fem!reader ﹫ i think i want you guys to cry those days lol srry

⚠︎ heavy angst, past childhood abuse, self harm (kaiser), mental health struggles, PTSD, anger issues, toxic masculinity, mention of physical violence (not towards reader!), gosh I love psychology .ᐟ.ᐟ

You always knew what you were getting into with Michael Kaiser.

You didn’t fall for the persona the world adored—the golden boy with a god complex and a smirk that could slice through steel. No, you fell for the cracks in him. The trembling underneath the arrogance. The moments when he couldn’t meet your eyes because if he did, he was afraid you’d see the rotting guilt, the fear, the hollow grief underneath the diamonds.

You loved him because you saw it.

And you stayed, even when no one else would’ve dared to.

𓍯𓂃

Kaiser was violent.

Not in the way people expected—not loud fists or barroom brawls (though that had happened before), but in something more insidious. Sometimes it was in the way his voice would shift, low and sharp, cutting through you like glass. Sometimes it was the way his jaw would clench until it looked like his bones might crack from holding back what he really wanted to do.

You were good at psychology. Not just the study—the heart of it. You knew what trauma looked like when it grew up and tried to wear confidence like armor. You recognized the signs when a person had been taught that vulnerability equaled punishment. You understood that violence, especially his, wasn’t power. It was a defense mechanism—a scream in a language only pain could speak.

And Michael had been screaming his whole life.

You saw him for what he truly was: not a monster, but a boy who had never been taught what to do with his rage except to weaponize it. Who had never been held in safety long enough to learn gentleness.

So you never flinched.

Not even when you should have.

𓍯𓂃

There were moments he scared you.

You’d be lying if you said otherwise. There were nights when his eyes turned distant and cold, like he was possessed by ghosts too heavy for his frame. Sometimes he’d snap—at himself, at walls, at you. He’d punch mirrors, scream into the darkness, tear through the apartment with a fire he couldn’t contain.

But he never touched you. Not once. Not even when he was shaking, fists clenched, nails digging into his palms like he could hold back the beast by drawing his own blood.

You knew that mattered more than anything.

He was trying. And every ounce of that restraint was the loudest proof of his love.

𓍯𓂃

The worst night of all came after a loss. A brutal one. The kind that left silence in its wake, not even the fans had the nerve to speak after.

You knew something was wrong the moment he walked in the door.

He was soaked in sweat, but his eyes were hollow. He didn’t speak. Didn’t kiss your forehead like he usually did. He just drifted past you, the ghost of the man you knew, and locked himself in the bathroom.

For a while, you let him be.

But then the sounds started.

Gasps. Slaps. Choking.

You dropped everything.

He was on the floor when you burst in, knees bent, back against the wall like he was hiding from the world—and his hands. His hands were around his own throat.

Strangling himself.

He didn’t even look at you. Didn’t hear you call his name. His eyes were wide, somewhere else, filled with unshed tears. Like he didn’t know where he was. Like he wasn’t even in his body anymore.

And you—god, you ran to him. You dropped to your knees and grabbed at his wrists, crying.

“Michael! Stop! Baby, please—please stop, it’s me! It’s me—look at me!”

You didn’t care that your voice cracked. That you were crying so hard your hands were shaking.

You loved him too much, that’s all.

He didn’t respond right away. His grip tightened. You thought you were going to watch him die in front of you, in your arms, and it terrified you in a way you’d never known.

But then you touched his face.

His real name. That always got through to him. You said it again, whispering it like a prayer.

“Michael. Please…”

And that’s when he finally saw you.

He blinked. Choked on a breath. And then his hands dropped, and he collapsed against you with a sob so deep it shook your bones.

“I’m sorry,” he gasped. “I’m sorry—I didn’t—fuck, I didn’t mean—”

You just held him. As tight as you could. Rocking him gently like a child.

“No more sorry,” you whispered. “I’m here. I’m here. You’re okay. You’re not alone anymore.”

That was the first time you’ve ever saw him strangling himself.

𓍯𓂃

But he never understood how you ended up with him.

Michael Kaiser—the self-proclaimed emperor, king of the field, and god of ego—had spent his whole life building a fortress around his heart with barbed wire and stained glass. Flashy smiles, golden locks, and a mouth that never shut up unless he was losing—those were his weapons. But beneath it all, he was still just a boy scraping his knuckles on the floor of a cold, silent apartment, wondering why his mother never came back.

You, though. You were something else entirely.

Warm hands, soft eyes, a voice that could soothe the roaring chaos in his mind. You were gentle, but not naive. Sweet, but never fragile. You didn’t love him despite who he was—you loved him as if you saw who he was. And that was the part that made him crumble.

Because he didn’t even know who he was.

Not really.

𓍯𓂃

Kaiser had been alone for so long, he didn’t know what it was like to be wanted—not for fame, not for talent, not for the glimmer of victory, but just for existing. You made him soup when he was sick. Held his face in your hands when he was spiraling after a loss. You listened when he talked about nothing. You never asked him to change. You never walked away, even when he pushed.

He couldn’t understand it.

Why would someone like you want someone like him?

He’d stare at you sometimes, when you were asleep, the sunlight pooling across your skin. Beautiful. Kind. The kind of woman men would write sonnets about if the world hadn’t forgotten how to write them.

And he? He was a bastard in every sense of the word.

𓍯𓂃

Kaiser didn’t talk about his childhood. Not because he was protecting something precious, but because it was like staring into a well with no bottom. His mother left when he was six. She said she was going out to get groceries and never came back. His father stopped speaking not long after that—but the beatings started soon after.

He learned fast that being quiet made him invisible, and being invisible kept him safe.

Until he discovered football.

Football gave him something—a place to exist. Something he could control. He could be anyone on the field. He could be loved there.

Except it wasn’t love, not really. Not the kind you gave him.

The fans didn’t love him—they loved the version of him that scored goals. His teammates didn’t know him—they tolerated him for what he could offer. Even in Blue Lock, everything came at a price: talent, survival, performance. It was all about power, glory, ego.

But you… you brought him soup.

𓍯𓂃

He didn’t deserve it. He was loud, arrogant, cruel when cornered. Sometimes he said things just to hurt, just to feel something, just to remind the world not to get too close. But you never left.

And that scared the hell out of him.

He hated that he needed you. Hated that when you were gone for too long, his chest got tight and his mind went dark. He hated how much he missed you, how he couldn’t focus on the game when he didn’t know if you were okay.

He used to think love was weakness.

But now he saw it for what it was: the only thing in his life that wasn’t transactional.

𓍯𓂃

He didn’t get it. Not fully. Not yet. Maybe he never would.

But every time he woke up with you tangled in the sheets next to him, your breath soft against his chest, he felt something break and heal in the same second.

You were his miracle.

And if he had to spend the rest of his life learning how to be worthy of you… that was a life finally worth living.

𓍯𓂃

You were scared. But you stayed.

He was broken. But he loved.

And together, somehow, you made something whole.

Something messy. Fragile. Raw. But real.

Because you knew him—not the emperor, not the image. Him. And you never looked away.

And that… was the one thing he’d never received before you:

Unconditional love.

[gnaisanty]

GOING PUBLIC - JUNG HOSEOK / J-HOPE X Y/N

The first person he told was Namjoon.

Which made sense, really. If BTS were a solar system, Namjoon was the sun—calm, constant, thoughtful. Hoseok said he wanted someone who would listen without freaking out or telling him he’d lost his mind.

He came back from their conversation with a quiet smile and his hand warm in mine.

“What did he say?” I asked.

Hoseok leaned against the wall beside my kitchen window. “He said, ‘It’s about time.’”

I blinked. “He knew?”

He laughed softly. “Apparently, I’m not as sneaky as I thought.”

The next day, he told the others.

Jin teased him mercilessly, of course. Taehyung said he’d guessed it too—because “you talk about her like she’s a lyric you haven’t written yet.” Yoongi just grunted and said, “Don’t mess it up.”

Jungkook looked at me when we met and said, “You make him calm. That’s good.”

It wasn’t an announcement or a dramatic moment—it was just… shared. Accepted.

Real.

But going public to the fans? That was another beast entirely.

The idea came from him.

“I want to do it in my words,” he said one night, head resting in my lap as we sat on my balcony. “Not some cold PR statement. Just me. Talking.”

I threaded my fingers through his hair. “Are you sure?”

“I’m not sure of anything these days,” he said. “Except you.”

And just like that, we had a plan.

He filmed a video late at night in his studio. No makeup, no script. Just him, sitting cross-legged on the couch, speaking directly to the camera.

"Hi, ARMY. It’s your sunshine. There’s something I want to tell you—not as J-Hope, but as Hoseok..."

He kept it short. Honest. Warm.

He didn’t mention my name, but he didn’t have to.

"I’ve met someone who makes me laugh when I’m tired, feel steady when I’m overwhelmed, and reminds me that being human is the best part of all of this. I’m grateful to have her in my life."

He paused then, smiling that soft, private smile that only I really knew.

"I hope you’ll support me like you always have. I love you. Thank you."

He posted it late at night and then turned off his phone.

I did the same.

We lay in bed, facing each other in the dark, hearts pounding.

“What if they hate me?” I whispered.

“They won’t.”

“How do you know?”

He touched my cheek. “Because they love me. And I love you.”

The next morning, we woke up to a miracle.

The internet had not imploded.

Sure, there were some trolls. There always are. But the hashtag #WeLoveYouHobi trended worldwide for twelve hours straight. Fans posted messages filled with love, respect, and—shockingly—joy.

Many wrote things like:

“He deserves to be happy.” “If she makes him feel safe, then she’s already family.” “Our sunshine finally has someone to light up for.”

I read until tears blurred my vision.

Hoseok held me, arms wrapped around me from behind as we scrolled together.

He kissed my temple. “See? They don’t hate you.”

I turned to him, a grin spreading across my face. “They kind of love me.”

He laughed. “Get in line. I loved you first.”

That night, we posted a photo on his account—just our hands intertwined on a table, a coffee cup beside them.

No caption. No tags.

It didn’t need any.

It was quiet.

It was brave.

It was ours.

[anony-man]

Chubformers drabble #236!

Characters: Skyfire & Starscream (G1)

Word count: 1.3k

Things were finally looking up for Starscream, which was saying a lot for a mech who had spent a long, long time considering nothing would ever be capable of improving. To his surprise (and his relief), however, the future was, in fact, a hell of a lot brighter than his past had ever been.

Things were calm for them now. The war was over, he was back to exploring the stars and charting the life amongst other planets, and he got to do so with the most important mech to ever stand at his side—Skyfire. Big, soft, beautiful Skyfire, a beast of a bot and a marshmallow of a mech. Harmless and happy, and oh so devoted to his beloved Star… it was perfect. Life was perfect. Things were finally looking up, and Starscream had hope for what the future might hold.

That was exactly what he wanted to imagine, and for a time, it had been exactly what he believed. But now, as the rapid shift from backbreaking responsibilities and the requirement to live on the edge of danger with his life held in the balance day in and day out turned to something a lot more soft, stable, and secure, Starscream was struggling to adjust. He was struggling to adapt, more specifically, and despite all of the satisfaction that came from having everything he had once had returned to him, things just couldn’t be perfect.

Maybe he wasn’t capable of having perfect. Maybe he was just a little too stuck up for his own good, just like his trine use to tell him. It didn’t matter to Starscream, none of it did. What mattered to him was that he had gotten everything back to being right in the world again, and now, as he finally began to decompress and heal from the terrors of old, his frame was betraying him.

It was one thing to stand and stare from the doorway of their massive shared habsuite and watch as Skyfire, soft and curvy in all the right places with all the weight in all the right spaces, lounged so comfortably atop their massive berth. He had grown rather large after his defection, and Starscream was grateful for it. The shuttle build he bore finally looked like and shuttle and acted like a shuttle, which meant Skyfire was even happier than he had been before during the war. Starscream, on the other hand…

Well. He had gained, too, and he had gained a hell of a lot of weight in comparison. Not as much as Skyfire, per se, but a lot. Too much, really.

He hated it. He hated the way it held him down, and he hated the way it felt to transform around his pudgy middle and fatty thighs. He hated the jiggle of his belly and the soft mesh building around his shoulders, and he hated his weight gain just as much as he loved Skyfire’s. It was ridiculous, he knew, but still… he hated it.

Starscream crossed his arms and kicked the floor with a pede in hopes that by sheer force of will Skyfire might be drawn from his focus on the datapad in hand to the chubby, grumpy flier standing in the doorway. His thoughts had already begun drifting back to the sour comparisons of frames built for weight and the frames built for speed. His mind was still poisoned time to time by the thoughts of war-time demands and functionalist beliefs no matter how thorough Skyfire was in his reminders of how much he adored Starscream’s new look (and similarly, his own), but he tried to stop it. That, of course, included going straight to the source of his reassurances when the little voices in his helm grew to be too much to bear.

From the berth, Skyfire stopped his reading for a brief, lazy stretch—that was when he caught sight of his lover standing in the doorway, and his attention was immediately shifted.

“Star!” he said, optics bright and face beaming. “I didn’t know you were there! Come here, come join me. I’ve just begun reading this new passage about…”

The excitable account of solar system research and new space discoveries was nothing more than a mumbled drone in Starscream’s audials. He lowered his gaze to the floor and attempted to fight against the internal monster holding him in place, but he simply couldn’t force himself to move from his spot in the doorway. It was like his pedes were fused to the floor, and his mind was elsewhere.

He was lucky, then, to have his return to the present be rewarded with the sight of a big, soft belly staring back at him and Skyfire’s similarly soft and concerned face staring down at him.

“Hey,” he said, his voice dropping to that low cadence he spoke in whenever he knew Starscream was lost in his own head. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Starscream managed to mumble even as he was drawn into a frame-crushing hug and smothered by the soft, pudgy belly. “Mmmph…”

“It’s never nothing with you,” Skyfire said. “What is it? Thinking again? Someone said something? Talk to me, Star.”

It was hard to keep his composure with his face buried in his partner’s belly, and at this point, Starscream hardly bothered trying. He wanted the reassurance just as much as he needed it, but he just didn’t want to ask for it. It was where Skyfire met him halfway every time, and Starscream was secretly and silently grateful for it.

“This isn’t about that pretty little belly of yours, is it?” he said, one massive servo gently pinching at Starscream’s sides while the other stayed wrapped around Starscream’s frame. “Or is it the love handles you’re starting to grow out? You know how much I love those love handles on you—“

“Don’t even start,” Starscream growled into Skyfire’s belly. He was melting already. “You know they don’t suit me.”

“Oh, but they do,” Skyfire cooed, “as does the belly, and the thighs, and the plating you’re starting to grow out of again. It suits you nicely.”

Soft and sweet, just like he liked it—and just like he needed it. Starscream pulled away slightly, his sour expression only held together by sheer force of will. He had already started to crack. The cushy words and gentle doting always did the trick.

“But I’m not meant to carry so much weight—that’s the thing,” he said with a pout. “You’re a shuttle. I’m a seeker.”

Skyfire cocked his helm the side. “The war is over, Star. The only seeker I like is the perfectly healthy, happy, and chubby seeker standing right in front of me. Besides…”

He tugged Starscream even closer yet, his servo cupping him around his waist, and squeezed at the pudgy rolls accumulated there.

“…if I didn’t like you looking like this, why on earth would I have planned for our day off together to involve lazing around until you’re ready to go for the reservations I’ve booked at that tiny little eatery you enjoy so much?”

Starscream pulled back once again. “No. You didn’t.”

“Oh yes,” Skyfire chuckled, “I did. Still wanna sit out here and sulk, or would you like to come join me for a bit of lazing around in the berth?”

“Psh,” Starscream scoffed, “how could I refuse?”

He couldn’t. Not when it was Skyfire dragging him to the berth and arranging the sheets just right, cuddling him from behind and squeezing him so tight. It worked like a charm every time, and now, instead of the insecurities he had mulled over all morning, all Starscream could think about was trying not to snooze while Skyfire held the datapad out in front of them and scrolled through endless new documents and data about the most recent astro research being performed.

Lucky him… things were finally beginning to look up again.

[megumismyhusband]

it was no secret that isagi yoichi was a beast on the field. his teammates knew it, his opponents feared it—but somehow, it had been a well-kept secret from you.

you’d always known isagi as your sweet, gentle boyfriend—the one who blushed when you complimented him, the one who held your hand like it was something precious, the one who stammered out shy confessions like he hadn’t already stolen your heart. so, when you decided to surprise him at practice, you expected that same isagi.

what you didn’t expect was this.

“are you fuckin’ kidding me?!” isagi’s voice rang out across the field, sharp and unforgiving. your eyes widened as you watched him glare at one of his teammates, his hands thrown up in exasperation. “what the hell was that pass supposed to be?! you trying to hand them the damn game? fuckin’ idiot, i’m gonna kill you!”

you froze.

this wasn’t the soft-spoken isagi who got flustered when you kissed his cheek. this was someone else entirely—someone whose presence dominated the field, whose intensity crackled in the air like a storm. he was pacing, his jaw clenched, his tone nothing short of ruthless.

“you wanna play like that? you might as well quit! i’m not babysitting your lazy ass out here!” his voice was fierce, relentless. “jesus christ, do you even care about winning, or are you just here to waste everyone’s goddamn time?! fucking useless!”

you didn’t know whether to be horrified or impressed.

the isagi in front of you was nothing like the one who shyly asked if you wanted to share his scarf on cold mornings. this isagi was a leader, a competitor, a force of nature that refused to accept anything less than victory. and damn, was it hot.

then, as if sensing your presence, isagi’s head suddenly snapped toward you. his sharp glare vanished instantly, replaced by wide eyes and a deep red blush creeping up his neck.

“u-uh…” he swallowed hard, visibly panicking. “you saw that?”

you raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms. “oh, i definitely saw that.”

isagi rubbed the back of his neck, looking anywhere but at you. “i-it’s just… the game, you know?”

you hummed, stepping closer until you could see the lingering frustration in his eyes—frustration that quickly melted when you leaned up and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek.

“i think i like both versions of you,” you teased, watching as his face turned impossibly red.

“…oh my god,” he muttered, covering his face with his hands. “you’re never letting this go, are you?”

you grinned. “not a chance.

[nebularsung]

⭑ mark becomes a little too obsessed now that he learns you can squirt... ﹙+18﹚

you weren’t sure if you could take another. your body trembled, legs weak, breaths uneven. the sheets beneath you were damp, evidence of just how far he had pushed you.

but mark didn’t seem near to being finished.

his mouth worked at you with devotion, tongue teasing, exploring—his every move deliberate, like he was savoring something forbidden. each flick, each slow stroke of his lips against your pussy sent fresh waves of pleasure rolling through you. his nose brushed against that sensitive spot each time he dipped his tongue inside, and all you could do was lay there, helpless, open for him.

your thighs twitched, but they were locked over his shoulders, his firm grip keeping you exactly where he wanted. not that you had the strength to close them even if you tried.

“just one more, baby,” he murmured, voice thick with hunger. “c’mon… give me another.” then, he sucked at your clit, a sudden, ruthless pull that had your back arching, his name spilling from your lips like a prayer.

his skin glistened, his abs damp from his earlier efforts—where he had learned you could squirt. where he had discovered he could make you fall apart so completely, so beautifully, that he never wanted to stop.

god, you were a sight—eyes fluttering, fingers tangled in the sheets, body shivering with every stroke of his tongue. mark drank in every reaction, every twitch and shudder, and it only made him want more.

you could feel his impatience growing. his tongue moved faster, more insistent, each stroke messier, greedier. then, he pressed his fingers inside—deep, unrelenting—pulling another cry from your throat as your grip tightened in his hair.

“mark—please,” you gasped, barely able to form words.

“i know you can, baby,” he coaxed, pressing a slow, teasing circle against your swollen clit. his voice was soothing, but his touch was anything but. “do it again for me… make a mess for me, and i’ll let you rest.”

as if you had a choice. as if your body wasn’t already on the edge, trembling, desperate, ready to break for him all over again.

your stomach tightened, that sweet, unbearable pressure coiling deep in your core. your eyes squeezed shut and your hips lifted instinctively, searching for more, and then—

everything snapped.

a breathless cry left your lips as pleasure crashed over you, your body stuttering, back arching off the mattress as you gave him exactly what he wanted.

you barely had the strength to open your eyes, but you felt it—the way he held your legs still, trying to catch every drop of your release with his mouth. the way his breathing stuttered against your skin, his own body shivering, desperate for relief.

and then, without a single touch to himself, mark groaned—a deep, guttural sound—and you knew. his own release spilled hot and heavy against the sheets, proof of just how much your pleasure alone undid him.

the room was silent, save for the sound of your ragged breaths. your body twitched, oversensitive, spent. your legs refused to move, your muscles weak, your mind floating somewhere between bliss and exhaustion.

mark exhaled, running a slow hand through his damp hair, grinning like a man who had just won the greatest prize of his life.

“that,” he murmured, voice husky, lips brushing against your thigh, “was the hottest thing i’ve ever seen.”

you finally managed to lift your head, and what you saw made your breath catch.

mark—utterly wrecked. skin glistening, hair damp, that triumphant smirk tugging at his lips. and lower… his cock, still standing proudly, flushed, glistening, as if daring you to do something about it.

you groaned, letting your head fall back against the pillow.

mark only chuckled, crawling up to hover over you, his lips grazing yours.

“think thirty minutes is enough for you?” he murmured, teasing, tempting.

god help you and your insatiable beast boyfriend.

｜ 𝗇𝗈𝗍𝖾𝗌 𖹭 don't you also think it's hot when they get pleasure by giving pleasure to their partner? oh gosh help me... i just wanna squirt for mark 😪

[writtendaydreamm]

The Hospital Gossip Mill

Summary: Y/n and Langdon try to keep their relationship a secret at work, but eventually get caught by their observant colleagues

Author's Note: Based on this submission. Had so much fun writing this, hope you guys enjoy! Let me know what you guys think!

*Just put out a sort-of prequel to this! Check it out here

Ding

The elevator doors opened to the ED, and Y/n took a deep breath, bracing herself before stepping out. 

Looking at the hospital as one entity, the ED could be seen as the belly of the beast - but really the department was a beast in its own right. It was chaotic, loud, fast-paced, unpredictable. It was madness to put it plainly. But the team down here harnessed all that madness and used it to fuel their ingenuity and creativity. Now she’d never admit any of this out loud, and certainly not to any of the doctors down here - that would sound too much like praise or respect. 

What she will admit however is that it definitely takes a certain type of person to go into Emergency Medicine. One rotation in the ED back in med school was all it took for Y/n to decide it was not for her. She felt much more at home in General Surgery. Intense in a different way, the OR was high-pressure and high stakes, it demanded precision and endurance. And she loved every second of it.

Making her way across the floor to find Dr. Mohan, Y/n’s eyes also scanned around for any sight of another resident in particular who forgot his wallet at her apartment this morning. She had texted him to come pick it up during his lunch break, but considering it was now the tail end of their shift and he still hadn’t come up, she knew this was probably one of those days he didn't get a lunch break. 

Contemplating bringing it down with her after getting called to consult on Mohan’s abdominal trauma case, ultimately Y/n decided against it. It would be too obvious. Their relationship was still under wraps and she wanted to keep it that way. They didn’t need the hospital gossip mill catching any wind of something going on between her and Dr. Langdon. 

Focusing on the task at hand, she went over Mohan's call. The younger resident didn’t exactly deliver the case on a silver platter for her. The patient had no reliable history, incomplete imaging and a vague exam. Not to mention the patient was being combative enough to need restraints. 

This’ll be fun, Y/n scoffed to herself. 

From what Mohan could tell her, the patient is a 30-year-old male, took a fall during a manic episode, they got a FAST that’s equivocal and a borderline soft belly. There was some free fluid, so it could be a possible mesenteric bleed or the spleen. It could also possibly be nothing, just some muscle tension and a new patient for psych not surgery. 

Y/n won’t know for sure till she gets eyes and hands on it herself. 

—

“Just to confirm, CT incomplete, guarding when touched, and free fluid but no definitive source?”

“Correct,” Mohan nodded, they stood just outside the room. 

“Oh, well don’t make it too easy for me,” Y/n quipped sarcastically, before stepping in. 

Inside, she got her first look at their patient - alert but clearly agitated and restrained to the bed rails. Around the room were a few nurses, more than normal for a case like this. Surely just here to help restrain if he gets combative or aggressive again. 

“Hi Mr. Harvey, I’m Dr. L/n,” she introduced herself, slipping on a pair of gloves. “I’m just going to check your belly okay.”

Before Y/n could take another step closer, Mr. Harvey had already begun recoiling, pulling on his restraints, not wanting to be examined any further. Playing it cool and calm, Y/n held her hands up non threateningly. She spoke slowly hoping to soothe him just enough to get her hands on him. 

“I’m not going to hurt you. I’m just trying to find out what’s hurting you from the inside after your fall.” 

“I didn’t fall, I flew,” he corrected her indignantly.

“Right, my apologies,” she said, taking tentative steps forward, continuing to try and build trust with him. “The exam I'm going to perform might be uncomfortable, even painful, but I promise I will try to be as quick as I can. It’s the only way we can check for any internal injuries you sustained on your, uh, flight.”

Despite his face still contorting in a mixture of pain and defiance, the tension in his body seemed to ease. With the belts on his hand restraints slackened now, she figured this was as good as it was going to get. 

“I’m going to start my examination, alright Mr. Harvey? You’re going to need to stay as still as possible for me though.”

He didn’t respond, but laid still now. Taking that as permission, Y/n gave the nurses a silent signal to be ready to restrain him should the need arise before she proceeded to assess his abdominal quadrants. 

She leaned over Mr. Harvey slightly, gently but firmly palpating each quadrant starting furthest away from the area with reported pain. He was definitely tensing with the applied pressure, even starting to mumble incoherently in his discomfort. As she moved closer to the area Mohan had reported his pain was centered, he began to writhe and twist making it harder for Y/n to continue. But she went on anyway, asking him to remain calm. He probably couldn’t hear her though, the sound of his own voice going from mumbles to shouts drowning her out. She was about to press against his left lumbar region, and just the feeling of her nitrile glove brushing against his skin set him off. 

Kicking and screaming, pulling at his restraints trying to break himself free, Mr. Harvey was about to be a danger to himself if he continued like this. Mohan and the nurses stepped in. All four of them tried to hold him down so Y/n could finish her exam, but it only made things worse. Mr. Harvey thrashed even more violently now. Somehow in the heat of things he managed to get a hold of the IV line he was hooked up to and yanked on it, hard. 

“Dr. L/n, look out,” Mohan tried to warn her but it was too late. 

Before she could even process what Mohan said, Y/n felt a hard, cold piece of metal fall on her head with a thud. Loud clanking followed as the IV stand fell on the floor in front of her. 

“Fuck,” she grunted, the pain sending a cold wave of shock all over her body. Immediately putting pressure on the wound, she instructed everyone to get him under control. Pulling her hand back to check for bleeding, Y/n cursed again seeing her gloves covered in red.

From across the bed, Mohan’s eyes widened watching a trickle of blood drip down the side of Y/n’s forehead. “Oh damn, you’re bleeding.”

“I’m aware,” Y/n snapped in her frustration and pain. 

“Maybe you should step out, get that checked. I’ll call down for another consult-”

“I’m fine,” Y/n shook it off, ignoring the pulsing on her forehead. “We need to finish this exam now. If he needs the OR we can’t waste any more time.”

“It looks pretty bad,” Mohan winced, imagining the gash that must’ve been behind Y/n’s hand. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Y/n insisted, growing annoyed at the concern. This was just a little cut, she’ll manage. “Just get him under control so I can finish. And get me some gauze, please. Now.”

 —

Dropping off one of the tablets back at the nurse’s station, Langdon heard Mateo and Princess speaking in hushed tones which could only mean one thing - new gossip. While he tried to stay above the gossip and rumors, he just couldn’t help himself from listening in.

“Is it true one of the surgical residents got headbutted by that psych patient that came in earlier. The one talking about flying and shit.”

“No, I think it was a piece of equipment that hit her head,” Princess said, correcting Mateo.

“Well whatever it was, I heard she’s getting stitches.”

A premature smirk spread across Langdon’s face as he assumed the aforementioned surgical resident was Dr. Garcia. For all the shit she gives, he wasn’t going to let her live this one down. Little Miss Knife-happy getting cut on the job? It was almost poetic. 

“Who was it?” Langdon asked smugly. 

“Dr. L/n,” Princess said.

That wiped the smirk right off his face. Curiosity turning to concern, he tried to get more information about what happened.

“Stitches huh?” he asked, trying not to sound too interested. “It must’ve been a deep wound.”

“Must be,” Mateo shrugged. “I heard Javadi saying she bled through her gauze.”

So Javadi’s on the case? Langdon didn’t want to assume the worst, but he immediately recalled the intern’s first day here. How she fainted about an hour in after seeing some blood. Sure Javadi had gained more experience and hadn’t fainted again since, but it still made Langdon a bit uneasy knowing she was handling Y/n’s stitches.

“Who’s Javadi with right now?” Langdon continued to press.

“Collins, I think,” Mateo said, nodding over to the examination room just opposite to the nurse’s station. 

Pretending to check the board for a new case, Langdon stood there at the nurses station for a moment tapping his fingers on the counter idly. Staring at all the columns and rows of patients on the screen, the only case he was interested in at the moment was Y/n’s. But as badly as he wanted to rush across the hall to check in on her, he didn’t want to look too panicked and give himself away. Not in front of Princes and Mateo - those two didn’t need anything else to gossip about. 

But the pair of nurses had already shot each other a quick, knowing look as they watched Langdon try, and fail, to slip away from the counter unnoticed towards the exam room Y/n was in. 

—

Y/n, Javadi, and Collins all jumped in surprise as Langdon barged into the room suddenly. 

Collins looked at him quizzically, not understanding what he was doing here. Despite the bleeding, this was a superficial, clean edge laceration. Closing with simple sutures should do the trick. They didn’t need backup nor did she call for it. 

“Collins, Javadi. Just, uh, checking if you needed, y’know any help in here,” he explained unconvincingly. 

“No, we’ve got it,” Collins said as she checked to see Y/n was properly numbed before they started suturing.

“Dr. L/n,” he greeted Y/n as casually as possible, trying to sound more snide rather than sorry to see her sitting there on the examination table. “What happened to you?”

“IV stand to the head,” she replied, averting his gaze as he stepped closer, taking a look at her laceration. 

She held her breath, ignoring the way her stomach fluttered as she felt his fingertips brush a strand of hair away from the area. It took all her self control to not start smiling like an idiot. This is exactly why she avoided coming down to the ED as much as she could, pushing most of the consults off to Dr. Garcia instead. She just couldn’t hide how she felt around him and it's not like he made it any easier for her - especially not now.

Eyes flitting between Y/n and Langdon, Collins could sense there was something going on there. Expecting some back and forth to ensue between the two, Collins was surprised, almost disappointed when she heard none. Not a peep from either of them. Aside from the sound of rattling tools as Javadi prepped to suture, the room was silent. Weird. A surgical resident was in the room and not a single insult was being thrown? Not even a bit of banter? That wasn’t like Langdon at all. And while Collins didn’t know Y/n quite as well, she knew she was from surgery. And anyone from surgery never missed a chance to take a friendly jab at the ED. Hell, just moments ago Y/n made a comment about wanting to stitch herself up rather then get botched on a rush job.

It didn’t take a genius to put two and two together. 

As Javadi rolled her seat in front of Y/n, ready to start suturing with a P-3 needle and 5-0 nylon in hand, Y/n could not pass up the opportunity to give the intern a hard time.

“Careful with the bite size alright. This is my face, not a quilt.”

“Right,” Javadi said, forcing out a nervous laugh before swallowing the lump in her throat.

Watching tensely, as Javadi put in the first stitch, Langdon was shocked Y/n let someone aside from herself stitch up that wound, let alone an intern. Collins was right there. She was far more experienced than Javadi and could ensure each stitch would be identical, that the tension was distributed evenly, that the scarring would be minimal. 

“You sure you don’t want to do it yourself,” Langdon whispered as Collins stepped back to stand beside him. She shot him a side-eye at the unsolicited suggestion. With this being a teaching hospital and all, the whole point was to have the students learn and practice. The judgement and suspicion on her face had him quickly trying to explain himself. “To show Javadi the proper technique that is.” 

While that was a fair point, this wasn't Javadi's first time suturing and Collins was confident in the intern’s abilities to close up a simple laceration like this. Peering over Javadi’s shoulder for good measure, Collins nodded pleased with her work so far. 

“No need. She’s doing a great job,” she assured him, before eyeing him suspiciously. “We’re all good here y’know. You can go.”

Langdon opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, trying to string together a good excuse to stay. Taking too long to come up with something that sounded reasonable, Collins spoke up again. 

“Or is there a particular reason you’d like to stay?” she teased, cocking her subtly at Y/n. 

“No, no,” he said, shaking his head a little too hard. “You’re right, you guys got it all under control.”

Mhm, Collins nodded in agreement, watching him closely as he turned to leave. 

Langdon spared one last fleeting, but longing, glance at Y/n before finally walking through the door. And that was all Collin’s needed to validate her suspicions. Oh, those two definitely had something going she said to herself. Charging in here randomly, the uncharacteristic lack of snark, the worry in his eyes, his reluctance to leave. Such obvious tells. Was he even trying to be discreet? 

— 

The sun was just about to set as Langdon watched, from the far end of the parking lot, batches of the morning shift employees exit the hospital.

He didn’t usually wait for Y/n after work like this. Too many eyes around that might see them together. Although recently they’ve been spending most nights together, either at his or hers, they intentionally drove to work separately despite working the same hours for the sake of keeping their relationship private.

But today they slept in a little later than usual. Maybe her bed was comfier than his or maybe it was just the fact he was in bed with her, but he did not want to leave that bed. Needless to say those extra few minutes laying around together had him rushing out of her door forgetting his wallet on her dresser.

He planned on sneaking away to grab it from her over lunch like she had texted him to, but the ED was slammed. He was lucky that a very grateful patient sent them a few boxes of pizza as a thank-you, otherwise he probably wouldn’t have eaten anything all day.

So today, he waited for her and his wallet, leaning on the trunk of her car. He didn’t expect to be waiting this long though. Looking down at his wrist, it was already 5:19. Y/n was supposed to be off at 5. He was about to give her a call when he spotted her speed walking across the parking lot. 

“There you are,” he said, pulling her into a hug. “I was starting to worry you got into another fight with an IV stand.” 

“Not funny,” y/n said, shoving his shoulder playfully, smiling despite herself. “Sorry, I took so long. I just lost track of time trying to finish up this report.”

Langdon brushed off her apology. He would’ve waited any amount of time to see her. Especially after today. Since Collins practically kicked him out of the room while y/n was getting her stitches, he didn’t get to check in on her afterwards, to see how they turned out. 

“Can’t believe you let an intern suture your face,” he said. 

Y/n just shrugged. She remembered what it was like being an intern. Just starting out, wanting to glove up and scrub in on anything she could, trying to get someone to give her a chance to prove herself. And besides, the laceration wasn’t that deep and about 2, maybe 3 centimeters max. It was also, thankfully, close enough to her hairline so any scaring wouldn’t be too noticeable. Any intern should’ve been able to do it. But if she had to choose one from the ED, she was glad it was Javadi. 

“She’s Shamsi’s kid. I’m pretty sure she’s been practicing sutures since she was like 10,” y/n joked. Langdon laughed, having seen that mother-daughter dynamic first hand, he suspected there was probably some truth there. 

Cupping her face gently, he turned her head to get a better look at Javadi’s handiwork on her forehead. Not bad, he thought pleasantly surprised at how good they turned out. Swatting his hands away from her face, trying to get him to stop fussing over her, she turned the tables. 

“What I can’t believe is how you came bursting into the room like that.”

Langdon groaned. In hindsight it wasn’t the best idea, considering they wanted to keep their relationship a secret. But once he heard she was hurt, he couldn’t help himself. He needed to make sure she was alright, to see to it that she was being treated appropriately. 

“I was worried. Okay?” he admitted, resting his hands on her waist tenderly. “Mateo was saying you got head butted.”

Placing her hands on his chest, Y/n rolled her eyes at just how fast that news traveled around the hospital. The gossip mill truly never rests. While she was touched by his concern, this put their relationship at risk of being the next big story. 

“Collins is so onto us now, I bet-” 

A loud revving caught her attention, interrupting her train of thought. Turning around, a black sedan came to pull up right beside them. Immediately, the pair pulled apart as they waited for the windows to roll down revealing Mateo in the driver’s seat. 

“Okay lovebirds, when two of you are done making kissy-face, come meet the team at Mulligan’s for a round. You two have a lot of explaining to do,” he laughed, before speeding off. 

Y/n and Langdon turned to each other in disappointment - they’d been outed. It was hard to say by who or even when. It could’ve been Collins, today after Langdon came to check on Y/n. Or it could’ve been Perlah who caught the pair walking out of the on-call room the other day. Or it could've been Mateo, just now, as he drove by seeing them all loved up. One thing was for certain though, by tomorrow morning everyone will know. From the OR, to the ED and all the departments in between.

Resignation set in as they accepted their fate. It was inevitable after all. The fact they’d managed to conceal it for this long was quite the accomplishment considering how nosy and chatty everyone they worked with seemed to be.

With sigh, Y/n looked at the bright side. At least now they didn’t have to worry about being seen together. No need to sneak around to hang out during their breaks. She didn't have to keep avoiding come down to the ED. They could drive to work together now too, save some gas and take the carpool lane. 

Also trying to find good in all this, Langdon wrapped his arms around her from behind, placing a comforting kiss on the side of her head.

“Hey, at least that Dr. West will stop hitting on you once he knows you’ve got a boyfriend down in the pit,” he said lowly in her ear. 

“Oh please,” Y/n turned in his arms to face him, “You’re one to talk! As if all those new travel nurses aren’t throwing themselves at you.”

“Jealous?” he teased, pulling her tighter against him. 

“Are you?” she challenged, arms resting on his shoulders naturally,m.

With their faces now just inches apart, drawn together like magnets, there was no fighting the pull between them. Their lips met eagerly, having yearned for this feeling since they last kissed this morning.

So caught up in one another, the only distraction around that pulled them away from each other was the loud, obnoxious emergency alert going off on both their phones. A chemical spill blocked off traffic on the busiest highway in the city - the exact highway both Y/n and Langdon took to get home. 

The roads were going to be backed up now that the highway was closed. Langdon hated sitting in traffic, just the thought got him irritated. 

“What do you say we take up Mateo’s offer?” he suggested.

“You’re kidding, right?” Y/n asked, thinking he couldn’t be serious. If they went, they’d be walking into a lion’s den full of scrutiny, teasing, and never-ending grilling. 

“I say that beats the traffic. It’s just a couple blocks walk. We could have a beer, wait out the traffic, make our debut as a couple?”

She thought about it for a second. He wasn’t wrong. And despite having hoped to keep their relationship private, the thought of walking in on his arm was kind of exciting. 

“Alright, your idea, you’re paying,” y/n said, fishing his wallet from her tote, and tossing it to him. 

Catching it smoothly, Langdon let out an offended pfft, draping his other arm around her as they walked out of the parking lot. 

“I always pay anyway.”

[obsessivevoidkitten]

That Time You Got Yeeted Into Another World, Mistaken as a God-Sent Gift, and Used as a Prize in an Arena

Yandere Bear-Man Dilf x Gender Neutral Reader

CW: Noncon, framed for a crime, language barrier, eaten out like it's groceries, biting, scent marking, musk, combat, general yandere behavior

Word Count: 765

(Speed written out of nowhere because I had the idea suddenly, not beta read so please forgive any mistakes. I hope you guys like this ficlet. Also forgive the title, in a game I was playing there was a crossover with "That Time I Got Reincarnated as a Slime" and I liked the vibe of the title.)

You were framed for a crime you didn't commit and in your village the punishment for that crime was immediate exile via being shoved down a steep crater in the center of which is a one-way portal to what is thought to be Hell.

What no one on your side of the portal knew was that on the other side was just another world. A world that celebrated with a great holiday anytime a human came through the portal. It was also a world populated entirely, with the exception of humans who crossed over, by human-like beast hybrids.

Driders, lion hybrids, nagas, aqrabuamelu (scorpion-men), harpies, dog people, centaurs, minotaurs, gnolls, and many other races that seemed to be part human. 

They have a connecting portal in their universe, but any who try to go into it are spat back out. The current went only in one direction.

Every few years, a human would be flung forth from the portal, a gift from the gods! But only the worthy can keep such a gift. So whenever a human comes to the realm from the watcher of the portal will ring the bells and all the warriors assemble and a grand tournament is held at the arena. Whoever wins gets to keep the human and gains enough wealth to care for them properly.

Things are no different when you arrive, you are immediately ushered away, examined, and pampered like a prize doll with no agency. Despite your objections. It seems like only the keeper of the portal has any rudimentary undestanding of your language, not that it helped you. He didn't explain much and his speech wasn't that great. Something about... a big game?

You were naturally frightened beyond all reason, seeing all these beast-men, but it didn't seem like you were being harmed. It really wasn't what you thought hell was going to be like. 

On the day of the big tournament, you were dressed in the finest silks, given a tiny crown of silver, and taken to the best seat in the arena. One where everyone could see you. A cushioned throne was provided for you to sit upon. You figured that this must be a ceremony to welcome people from the portal.

You watched as all the combatants sparred. At first you were horrified, but it became evident that people could yield and death was, almost always, avoided. There were combatants of every variety. 

Even from the start the best seemed to be a naga woman named Eeris and a bear-man named Brakwen. As they advanced through the fights they both finally made it to the finals where they'd clash. Eeris favored twin daggers and fangs while Brakwen used claws and brute strength. He had a sword but had not resorted to using it. 

It was a mighty battle but Brakwen the bear-man managed to win. You still did not yet realize you were the prize. Not until you were escorted down to him and were carried bridal style out of the arena with the crowd cheering. Brakwen had won the god's favor!

From close up he looked even more imposing. He seemed to be in his late 30s to early 40s. He mostly looked like a hairy man from far away though up close his massive size, sharp teeth, claws, thick fur covering his arms and quite frankly adorable bear ears, gave him away. He was rugged but admittedly rather handsome. You knew there was nothing you could do so you let him carry you away. 

Despite the language barrier, Brakwen did his best to please his god-given prize. He could tell you feared him. Especially since you tried to run off a few times. But Brakwen didn't get angry. You never even managed to get past the door. Even if you did there were two gates outside the house. You were far too valuable to let wander off. 

Eventually when you had stopped running off, and when his rut demanded he wait no longer, he began acting a bot more aggressove and sexual towards you. 

Though you tried to stop him it ended with him stretching out your hole with his powerful tongue, lubing you up with his copious amounts of drool, and sliding into you with his massive musky cock.

That's what your life was now. Being treated like a fragile precious gem most of the time and then for one week out of every month you were fucked full of hot bear cum in every possible position, bitten possessively, and scent marked by being forced to wear his oversized clothing. 

[plusanimablog]

Chapter 28: Diary Of The Tree-Leaking Day

Baby Senri!

And Upas totally knows him, Senri choosing him as the first to know that his father is taking him up the mountain. This natural survey is the first step to becoming a man, Upas wisely says. There, Senri wonders if he will have a bear Anima, like his father and Upas does...

Anyway, Commander Iggy tells his troops to be on alert despite things being currently chill with the Kimunkle. They're different people from a different area so it's literally impossible to predict what they'll do next. A troop member wonders out loud if the bear they saw earlier was a magical creature causing a few friendly Kimunkles to approach and explain that the bear is a rare Anima technique where they can attack or defend through a projection of their Anima spirit. Only certain people in the tribe can do it. Iggy has the appropriate reaction to learning there's a bear Anima in the tribe:

So the group is dealing with amnesiac Senri. Nana is taking it particularly hard, her controversial "shake and berate the person until they remember you" technique having to be halted by Husky because it was somehow not working on him. Husky thinks this may be the result of a head injury and Cooro asks Senri if there was something he wanted to forget. Senri doesn't answer and Upas approaches, Cooro casually dropping another drama bomb by saying he was the one who sent out the bear Anima earlier. Upas says this has happened to Senri before and reveals he's from the Tooa tribe, same as Senri. The Tooa tribe was destroyed by the Sairando and Upas was saved by the Shurosa while literally everyone else was either killed or sold off into slavery. Senri's father, Riiya, was Upas' best friend.

So it's good that Senri has surviving family, right? Nope, Senri doesn't remember him...in fact, now he double doesn't remember him due to his brain's recent factory reset. He lost his memory the first time when he was eight and his father died, getting anterograde amnesia that left him unable to form any new memories. Nana points out that while he was traveling with them, he displayed the ability to remember but Cooro minorly counters that he had the tendency to stare into space a lot...still, Upas recognizes this as important progress considering the state Senri left in. Then Iggy stomps over, identifying Upas as the bear Anima bearer.

He says at the battle at Moss Mountain, the one that killed the army commander (Iggy's father) was Upas himself. Upas asks that if he shows Iggy who killed his father, will he try to kill him? Iggy sternly says "maybe". Upas leaves instead, telling Iggy off for bring personal stuff into the business he's conducting for his country. To further muddle the issue, Upas thinks to himself that he can't just let Iggy kill his enemies off...

Husky goes off by the forest by himself and Cooro follows to see why (Nana sticks behind to try to make Senri remember; she's controversial in the medical community but dammit, she's the best chance we've got). Husky says that she won't help and Cooro points out that Upas, despite being family with Senri, didn't seem happy about seeing him at all. Husky says that Upas is masc and guys don't show emotion like joy or relief because it makes them looks like pussies. He's probably happy on the inside. Cooro still wonders though...

Senri flashback time: he and other Toora are going to climb a cliff wall to be like the bear. Flashback over...and Upas apologizes to the memory of his dead friend out of nowhere.

Anyway, Shira gives Iggy a task: go to the Great Red Rock Cavern and retrieve a sign. Iggy has to go alone with three of the Kimunkle to show him the way. He accepts, being told it's a test of strength. Upas then asks Shira to take Senri up the mountain. Nana understandably doesn't want Senri around Iggy but Upas points out the journey up the mountain might jog his memories. The group wants to come but they don't let children up the mountain so they have to stay in the village. The group is worried...but Cooro just tags along, reasoning that they'll just stay behind and fret anyway. They might as well follow. Not really having a way to dispute that logic, they follow after him.

Iggy is tired already but all of the Kimunkles are fine, Upas checking in on Senri's status. Senri flashes back to a time when he was told about a man-eating bear named Amurui. Then his dad tells him he'll have to kill someone someday...

In the present, Upas says that he believes that Senri can regain his memories...although some memories are best left forgotten. Then he leads him away, saying he's found some good friends...before turning into a bear, ending the chapter saying that it's time for Senri to die.

[luxdove]

Remember Me! Epilogue

(Shadow Milk Cookie x Reader)

Epilogue bc apparently the ending of part 2 left y’all in shambles 😭

Characters might be OOC!

Part 1, Part 2

The night was calm, a cool breeze hovered over the Pure Vanilla Kingdom as if it was a veil to cover such a peaceful kingdom that was always filled with happiness, laughter, and grace. Despite all positives, it seems like you were dealing with the negatives. You have woken up due to terrible dreams. It weren’t nightmares no, no- it seemed like the witches just wanted to make you feel even more guilt than you had before once in the past; when you helped the witches sealed your dear close friends who fell into corruption. So ever since the encounter of Shadow Milk Cookie and the duel, you were in a never ending restless state.

“Y/N Cookie?” A soft voice whispered with care, as if worried such a sound would break the most delicate and fragile silence. You barely even turned around because you knew who it was, it was Pure Vanilla Cookie standing there behind you with a face of worry. After all you have been staying inside of the Vanilla Castle ever since Gingerbrave Cookie’s group have all met you, so there’s no doubt Pure Vanilla Cookie could have noticed something that has changed ever since their travels to Beast Yeast.

“Hm…mornin’ Pure Vanilla Cookie Esquire…” You mumbled to match the low and quiet voice.

“Have you not rested?” Pure Vanilla Cookie asked as he examined your figure closely, you chuckled hollowly.

“I’m afraid not sire, I apologize for such inconveniences…” you whispered tiredly and softly.

“No need to apologize, although may I ask what has been up in your mind as of late?” Pure Vanilla Cookie asked as he walks towards where you were, admittedly- you looked like a normal civilian due to Pure Vanilla Cookie awakening his Light of Compassion form. Truly the roles seemed to have been reverse as if a there was a god like being standing next to a normal cookie.

“Admittedly…I can’t help but feel the same guilt that I felt many many years ago…back when the rest of the Virtues have been imprisoned,” you started as Pure Vanilla Cookie nodded. “However just like last time I too had to do what was right in the situation…and I knew Shadow Milk Cookie wouldn’t listen an ounce of what we would say…he is ignorant; only believing what is true in his eyes and not others- even if such truth are just delusions to help him believe more,” 

“Hmm…” Pure Vanilla Cookie hummed with a small smile, you waited impatiently for his answer but it seemed like he was just purposely doing this…for what reason? You do not know…anyways you decided to do something you’ve been avoiding for quite some time.

“Pure Vanilla Cookie,” You broke the awfully long silenced as he hummed. “I shall be on a journey, I wish for you or anyone to not seek for me for this is a journey I must deal alone,” you left instantly without waiting a response, but you failed the noticed the widened toothy smile Pure Vanilla Cookie gave to you as you disappeared from his view. 

It seems that no matter what, you always end up back at the spire. The spire has been broken down, abandoned with no owner, torn down into pieces- yet the spire looks just as glorious as the days when you first saw it despite how worn down it is. You walked along the garden, the same garden you have walked along for centuries- although just like the spire, it has been ruined, dirtied, stumbled, and destroyed. Everything about the spire held a special memory in your heart, yet although it fills you with such pleasant memories there was always a spot of guilt that stains it all.

“Why hello there…I didn’t expect a visitor” a calm gently voice is heard, you turned around to see nothing. Truly you were sure you weren’t going insane over this- but maybe you knew the owner of the voice was? Even then you didn’t want to confront said person so you ignored the voice. “Umm HELLOOO? I am talking to you!” The voice seemed louder and chaotic compared to how it sounded before but as expected there was no one. So you kept walking along the broken path of the garden. But then suddenly two hands gripped your shoulders firmly as they turned you around and you were met with a face  of a very angry Shadow Milk Cookie. “HELLO? I was TALKING to you and you just didn’t reply?”

“I apologize…I’m not really…” you paused before you carefully picked your next words “I couldn’t see or find you so I thought it was voices from the spire…” Shadow Milk Cookie looked at you oddly but with a curious sly smile.

“Are you seriously lying? To me? The Virtue of Deceit? Oh how enlightening this is” Shadow Milk Cookie smiled darkly. “Oh how you always spoke with truth that spoiled your mouth rotten! But here you are! Lying to me? Your good old friend? I know you better than that Y/N Cookie yet you dare lie? How unusual of you!” He mocks as he laughs while you stood there with no thoughts.

“I just…didn’t expect thee to be here…” you started. “I assumed you went into hiding and-“ but then suddenly your mouth got covered by a finger.

“Shhhh” Shadow Milk Cookie hushed. “Let’s enjoy the night shall we?” He smiled. Indeed, it was tempting offer but you couldn’t face Shadow Milk Cookie the same as you did before pre-corruption. His face, the way it smiles back at you and glowed along with the moonlight radiating his features…he looks the same the day you lost him from the imprisonment. The memories all started flowing back to you, like a very fast record tape- It didn’t take long until the years of keeping the guilt piled up in your heart to finally spill out. You were in deep sorrow, tears kept dripping down your face, you hugged yourself as you cried while Shadow Milk Cookie just looked at you in shock. What could he say? How was he even supposed to react to this? You, his calm, patient, and enduring friend- crying…? Crying?…crying? He has never seen you in such deep sorrow. “H-hey! What’s with the sad face friend? Could it-“ he was cut off with the intensely fast repeated mumbled of ‘I’m sorry’.

“I’m sorry…” You sniffled as you tried to hold both of his hands as you hiccuped from the overbearing guilt. “I’m- I’m so so sorry…” Shadow Milk Cookie just floated and stared. “I wish- I wish I could have saved you…and the others- yet it was my fault I have left you all…I have betrayed my friends…and instead of confronting it and dealing with the truth- I have ignored reality…I have made myself to believe in delusions- a reality to where I shan’t believe it would exist- to ignore a past that held importance to my heart; I thought I was doing the right and helped the witches imprison you all- yet my heart burns with pain, guilt, and sorrow” you explained as you cried, tears kept falling like a waterfall, it was never ending. “I wish to ask one thing Shadow Milk Cookie…would you forgive me? For what I have done to you…to Eternal Sugar Cookie…to Burning Spice Cookie…to Mythic Flour Cookie…to Silent Salt Cookie- just all of you!”

“Well…” Shadow Milk Cookie started “I did had a script going since I was going to try to corrupt you so you could join us but it seems that act will go into the trash can,” he smiled sadly, because you see the plan was to find you all alone here and since there would be no one near the area he would have taken advantage to your terrible mindset as you have currently as it will effectively make the corruption easier to shape and commute. However he didn’t expect it to be this…bad- after all he knew you had strong will and was strong in every aspect; yet here you are crying in his arms whispering apologies like a broken record, he didn’t expect the guilt that has been eating you alive would be this bad. He also didn’t expect the real truth that spoke from your tongue; indeed all the virtues believed you rebelled, you were somehow manipulated from the start, you, their beloved friend was made to perish them in the beginning- yet here you are apologizing and acknowledging your faults. 

“It’s alright Y/N Cookie…really don’t take it to heart…” Shadow Milk Cookie calmly and slowly forgave. “Although I should also be sorry for just- um- well- forcing you to try to join me I suppose- I just really missed you…and I didn’t want to lose you again- and I knew how much that dream meant to you but I was trying to stop you from continuing it because I knew from my experience it would be hopeless” He apologized as you looked at him with your teary eyes.

“It’s alright…I suppose I was going to see the truth of the past sooner or later…whether it was forced upon thy eyes to see or it would have been through an adventure where I would have dealt it alone,” You whispered as you forgave. You and Shadow Milk Cookie hugged each other in comfortable silence, in the mist of the broken, tattered garden of the worn down spire of knowledge. Indeed the memories of the past has gathered and stay, you both laughed heartedly as you both watched the luminous face of the moon going down as both of yours and Shadow Milk Cookie’s souljams shined along with the stars that twinkled in the night started to fade in the distance.

“You seemed more bright and happier than usual Y/N Cookie!” Ginger brave Cookie explained as you smiled with your lance at hand.

“Ah foresooth Gingerbrave Cookie Esquire! For Thy had such a wonderful and ingenious dream!” You exclaimed with stars shining in your eyes.

“Oh? What is this dream you so speak of Y/N Cookie?” Pure Vanilla Cookie smiled at you gently as you faced at him for a bit.

“Um…well…” You started as you sweated a bit “Perhaps such a dream must be kept secret- perhaps it shan’t to become true- I apologize Pure Vanilla Cookie Esquire!” You apologized loudly, probably almost shaking the forest.

“Ah…it’s no worries but I bet it was a lovely dream” Pure Vanilla Cookie reassured.

“Foresooth Pure Vanilla Cookie Esquire,” you said softly as you smiled “for it was a dream that was meant to be granted from the start” you finished as you held a brooch that had accents of blue, black, and white- a bit of gold and clearly held a close resemblance of a certain playful cookie.

Fin

I DEFINITELY WROTE SHADOW MILK COOKIE SO OOC BC WHAT WAS THAT 😭

So admittedly I wanted to get the reader to comfort Shadow Milk Cookie cuz he was the one who was supposed to like crash out emotionally to the reader but I blanked out and somehow switched the roles for that section and I really didn’t want to rewrite that whole thing😭 I’m sorry guys!

Like the plan was Shadow Milk Cookie was supposed to isolate the reader near the spire and try to feed the reader sweet deceit all over again to try to get them corrupted but then realizes the plan wasn’t working so then Shadow Milk Cookie like crashes out and becomes an emotional mess and then reader comforts them- but CLEARLY that didn’t happen 😭

Anyways I had an essay due but I said nop time to write this instead

Also I’m feeling a bit artsy, maybe next post would be a drawing? Give me ideas please ( ´∀｀)

Or maybe it’ll be another fic but an evil au, one where Y/N Cookie actually followed the script and fell into corruption like the other Virtues (might come in like waaaay later)

Tag list: @donnie-is-da-best @floweriya @haveneulalie @isak-sillydemon @f4nd0msl0v3r @sillysprinkel @kur1kur1chan

[kitkatkitzune]

PETALS

Pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x Fem!reader

Summary: You love flowers and you love Jace, it’s a shame you’ll die because of them.

Warnings: Targcest, My version of hanakaki disease, ANGST, Implied suicide, Blood, Jace feeling guilty as fuck, Potentially OOC!Daemon, Inaccurate historical depictions, Inconsistencies in the tense it’s written in

Notes: This is NOT Baela hate!! I love her!! 

Surprise, this is the show I ended up watching and I think I may write something for it every once in a while!

Word Count: 3.7k

———————

Aegon always felt that he had been cursed with strange sisters, his wife, Helaena, was obsessed with bugs and all other small insects. Then there was you, ever since you were a young girl you had been fascinated by nature. If you were missing the first place anyone would check was the gardens because more often than not that is where you were.

You’d hum to yourself, plucking away weeds, something your mother would shun you for.

"We have groundskeepers for a reason, Y/N,” she’d say, clicking her tongue.

You never listened though, and after a while she gave up on trying to stop you. At least Helaena hid her quirks inside the castle, you were always outside for anyone to see. You never knew why but you always felt connected to nature, even going as far to scold your guard when he’d stand on certain parts of the grass.

You loved Rhaenyra, you held a lot of respect for her even as a child. You were just a babe when Jace was born but when Luke was, even though you were still quite young, you brought her daisies from the gardens. Years later when Joffery would be born, you brought her baby’s breath.

Unlike Aemond and Aegon, Rhaenyra’s children’s brown hair never bothered you. In fact, you grew quite close with Lucerys and Jacaerys. Luke gained more respect towards nature each time he spoke with you and Jace, Jace found you fascinating. When he wasn’t training with a blade, he would find you in the gardens. He could listen to you ramble on for hours on end about the different flowers and their meanings.

“The daisies remind me of Luke…” you‘d hum, twirling a flower in your hands.

“And what of me, princess?”

You chew your lip, tilting your head in thought before abruptly standing up, “Come, I’ll show you!”

You dash further into the gardens with Jace chasing after you as you giggle. Eventually, you come to a stop in front of bunches of carnations.

“You remind me of the carnations… the red ones represent your strength and determination, the pink your loyalty, and the white your kindness…”

Jace hums, a smile appearing on his face, “They’re very pretty…”

You decide it best to not tell him that carnations often represent love.

“I’d also say that the hyacinths are similar to you… playful and bold… only the red ones though…”

He tilts his head, “And why only the red?”

The smile on your face wavers a bit, “The purple ones are an apology… to represent regret or guilt. They show grief.”

Everyone was gathered at Driftmark for Laela’s funeral. You had picked flowers, forget-me-nots, giving them to Baela and Rhaena as a way to show your sympathy to them. You didn’t miss the way Jace and Baela had their hands clasped together, and you could have sworn you felt your throat close up at the sight.

Later that night, you were shaken awake by Jace and the other children, alerting you that Vhagar had been stolen. When you all went to investigate, you found Aemond atop of Vhagar, landing on the ground. He swiftly dismounted the dragon, boasting about how it is now his. This enraged Baela, after all, Vhagar was her mothers dragon and the beast should have been her sisters to claim but Aemond had gone behind their backs before Rhaena was even granted a chance.

Chaos erupted as Aemond shoved Baela to the ground, you rushed to scold your brother but he only yelled at you, shoving you to the ground as well. You could feel the palms of your hand split open. Jace flipped his blade in his hand, ready to attack but it was flung away from him, landing near Luke.

It was sudden, Jace managed to toss some dirt into Aemonds face, temporality blinding him, and it gave Luke the chance to attack him with the blade. Your brother's ear piercing scream filled the space, blood dripping from his eye as the guards finally came running. All of you were gathered as one of the maesters tended to Aemond’s wound. And when your mother was informed that the eye would never heal - she was enraged.

Alicent demanded that they take one of Luke’s eyes and when the king refused, she tried to attack Rhaenyra, managing to slice open the woman’s hand. That night would be one of the last times you’d see the Velaryon boys for a long time, the family decided it was best that they travel to live on Dragonstone.

The day you said goodbye to Jace was the first day you coughed up a petal, through your tears, you could tell it was from a carnation.

You were able to keep it hidden for about six days before your mother found out. She noticed the blood on the sleeve of your gown and immediately questioned you about it. At first she had thought you had gotten your blood moon and had been messy about it but you quickly broke down and told her about the flowers.

She took you to the maesters instantly, watching as he examined and questioned you. She paced around the room anxiously, picking and biting at her nails just like she used to do as a child. A habit that she thought she managed to shake but clearly not.

The maester finally turned to look at Alicent, “Your grace… I have never seen such a thing… I’ve only ever read of it and have heard a few tales..”

“What is it?” Alicent asks quickly, making her way to you from across the room.

She brushes your hair from your face gently, and the maester sighs, “Rūklon ānogar… flower blood… it’s a disease, a curse… it’s a trick of nature… the princess is not loved by who she desires and nature is punishing her for it.”

Your mother looks horrified, “Who she desires? What… What kind of illness does that?! Will it go away with time?”

“I’m afraid not…the princess, she will die from this… I’ve read about a paste once before that could dull the symptoms, but there is no evidence of a long term solution… perhaps it is possible to survive off of the paste but I… we truly do not know.”

“A paste?!” Alicent raises her voice slightly, “My daughter is coughing up flowers, potentially dying and you offer me a mere paste that may save her, a paste that may not even work?!”

“Mother…” you pull at her sleeve, causing her attention to shift back to you. Her gaze softens at the sight of your blood stained lips.

“Yes, my dear?”

“It is… the only option,” you nudge your head towards the maester, “He would know…”

Alicent sighs at your words and turns her flaming gaze to the maester, “Get the paste, quickly.”

“Your grace,” he bows his head before scurrying off.

Your mother sits down on the bed beside you, pulling you to her arms, “It’s that…” she swallows harshly, deciding that it wouldn’t be fit for her to say bastard boy, “…Jacaerys, isn’t it?”

“Mother…” you mumble and she shushes you.

“No one will know of this, you are simply ill and that is why you are away, do you understand? No one can know of this, not even your brothers or sister, not even your father…”

“I understand…”

“Good,” she says then suddenly sighs, “This is my fault, I should have just let you marry the bas- boy. The boy.”

You shake your head a bit, “That… would not make him love me.”

And you were right, because off in her chambers, Helaena sits, stitching away at a quilt, mumbling to herself, “The flowers are wilting…”

Everyday, the paste would be mixed into your food and to the maesters credit, it did work. Although it made you feel near nothing, which was to be expected. You no longer sat smiling in the gardens, you would sit with a dull look on your face. Your mother tried to get you to act like your old self but it seemed impossible. But it didn’t really matter to her, as long as you were alive and preforming your duties as princess she was happy.

The point is, the paste worked for years with “minimal” issues, until he came back to King's Landing.

You were not there to greet them when they had arrived, he was a bit upset at the lack of your presence but assumed that since you were older now, you had more duties to tend to. Or perhaps your mother had forbidden you from greeting them. Jace guessed you would find him after but you never did, so he went looking for you but it seemed as though you were nowhere. The first time he would see you, would be at the large family dinner that the King wanted.

You were seated next to your grandsire, Otto and your brother, Aemond, staring at the table, praying the ground would swallow you whole. You hadn’t just been avoiding Jace either. You were avoiding the whole family, Lucerys, Rhaenyra, Baela, Rhaena, and Daemon. Baela and Rhaena were your friends at one point and Lucerys always looked up to you. Rhaenyra had been a role model for you and Daemon… well, he was Daemon.

Being here, with them, was painful. Almost as painful as the stems growing in your lungs. The paste was no longer working, that much was clear. Whether it had something to do with Jace’s sudden appearance or simply the disease fighting back, you had no clue.

“This is an occasion for celebration it seems…” your father announces, “My grandsons, Jace and Luke will marry their cousins Baela and Rhaena…”

The King continued on, but you were no longer listening, your gaze had snapped up from the table to focus on Jace and Baela. The way he looked at her and the way she looked at him. It was the same way you always looked at Jace, only he never returned that look. Your throat seemed to close up a bit and you had to fight away the urge to cough. You dug your nails into the handles or your chair, hoping to ground yourself in some way. Aemond, ever the perceptive one glances towards you, narrowing his eye, trying to read you but you ignore him.

It’s then that you can faintly hear Aegon's teasing voice as he leans over to whisper at Jace, “…You’ll finally get to lie with a woman… You do know how the act is done, I assume? At least in principle? Where to put your cock and all that.”

“You can play the jester if you wish, but hold your tongue before my betrothed.”

his betrothed.

You try to subtly clear your throat to relieve some of the pain but it is no use, you quickly grab your napkin and begin to cough into it, gaining the attention of everyone around the table. Rather reluctantly, Otto begins to pat at your back. Alicent begins to chew at her nails, quickly catching herself and holding her hands firmly in her lap.

“Are you all right, sister?” Aemond asks, taking a sip of his wine, it was obvious in his tone that he held no real concern for you and was only asking out of duty.

Carefully, you pull the cloth from your mouth, holding it tightly in your lap, “Yes…” you breathe out, relieved that you still have your voice.

The room has gone silent now and Daemon glances between Alicent and you as though he’s piecing a puzzle together. During the silence, Luke realizes this is the first time you’ve spoken since they’ve arrived, your voice sounds different, more matured and older… but most of all, scared.

“The flowers are wilting…” Helaena mumbles softly.

Neither Jace nor Luke would be able to speak with you that night because the second King Viserys’ speech was over, your mother had a guard escort you back to your chambers, claiming that you were ill and not feeling well. This only raised Daemon’s suspicions.

When the King died and your brother was crowned, you made the decision to flee from King’s Landing with Rhaenys with only the clothing on your back. You knew it was a stupid decision and you knew that your condition would only worsen, especially now without the paste, especially if you were to be constantly around him. But it did not matter to you, you refused to be on the wrong side of the war, even if it meant you would die sooner rather than later.

You were able to hide your sickness for less than one moon before you were unable to any longer. You were just lucky it had not happened during one of the council meetings, you were sure you’d be accused of bringing some sort of the plague with you. None of the men on Rhaenyra’s council seemed to trust you, but that wasn’t saying much considering it hardly seemed like they trusted her.

It had happened in your private chambers while one of the servant girls, Beth, was helping you out of your day clothing and into a night dress. You began to cough, unable to stop it as Beth fawned all over you, trying to help in any way. Your airway became even more restricted as you coughed, blood and petals falling to the ground in front of you when you could no longer stand. Then finally, you coughed up an entire carnation, stem and all.

The poor serving girl began to scream, rushing out into the hallway to yell for help. It was pure coincidence that Jace and Baela had been walking down the hall. Baela and the serving girl ran to find Rhaenyra, Daemon and a maester while Jace attempted to help you from the ground. But the second his hands touch your skin, it felt as though you’d been pricked by thorns. You shoved him from you, sinking further to the floor.

“Do not touch me…” you manage to hiss out.

“Y/N—“ Jace tries once more but you push his hands away, crawling across the floor to your bed.

Baela and Beth returned just as you began to pull yourself to your bed, all while begging Jace to not touch you. They were not alone when they returned, they had brought the Queen and King as well as the maester.

Jacaerys watches you with concern as Baela approaches him, placing a comforting hand on his arm which only makes you begin to cough more. Rhaenyra seems concerned that it is contagious and you could not blame her, perhaps she thought you were ill like your father.

But Daemon immediately silenced those thoughts when he picked up the flower from the ground, spinning it in his fingers, admiring the blood that coated his fingers.

“Rūklon ānogar,” he breathes out.

Everyone looks to him, while he still keeps his gaze focused on you, watching as you tense up at the mention of the fatal disease.

“Flower blood…” he clarifies.

“Rūklon ānogar? Flower blood?” Rhaenyra echoes, “That’s impossible, it’s not real.”

“Clearly it is…” you mumble quietly, allowing your head to fall back against the headboard.

“How long…?” Rhaenyra begins to ask but is cut off by her husband.

“Since before she came to Dragonstone, I suspect much long before.”

You nod, ”Years…”

Jace’s eyes narrow, a bit of anger flaring within him, “You came here, knowing of your illness?!”

“Relax,” Daemon says, “She’s not contagious… she is going to die though. Terribly. Painfully.”

“Thanks for the reminder,” you glare at him.

“My question is how are you still alive if it’s been years,” Daemon takes a step forward, finally dropping the flower in his hand, “you should be dead.”

“A paste…”

“A paste?” he asks, almost mockingly.

It is then that the maester cuts in, “It was believed that a paste could… prevent symptoms…delay death…”

“Then get her the paste,” Baela cuts in.

Oh how you wished you could hate Baela, it would be so much easier if she was awful but she wasn’t. And you knew none of this was her fault, just as none of it was Jace’s.

“It is not that simple, my lady,” the maester begins, “The ingredients needed for such a thing are very hard to come by… we do not have such things here.”

“Then we try King’s Landing,” Jace offers, causing Daemon to scoff.

You shake your head, “No… they wouldn’t.”

“Your mother is there! Your brothers! Your family!” Jace argues.

“They’re no family of mine!” you manage to shout, immediately doubling over on yourself, coughing.

Rhaenyra begins to pat at your back, the feeling was much more comforting than when Otto had done it, “Sweet girl…” she mumbles quietly.

“Tell me,” she asks softly, offering you a goblet of water that Beth had gotten, “Why risk yourself? Why come here knowing we could not provide for you?”

“Because…” your voice cracks as you pull away from Rhaenyra, “I refuse to die on the wrong side of this war… just as I refuse to die in this bed…”

You begin to try and force yourself out of the bed but quickly realize that you are much weaker than you were just moments before. You take a deep breath and close your eyes, trying again but once again, you fail.

Suddenly, you feel a hand on your back and another hooking under your knees. When you open your eyes you realize you’re being held by Daemon, you allow your head to fall against his chest as he begins to carry you out of the room, already knowing where it is you wish to go.

You can’t help but overhear the hushed conversation between Baela, Rhaenyra, and Jace as they follow behind.

“What kind of sickness does this, your grace?” Baela asks quietly.

“A cruel one,” Rhaenyra answers with a grim look on her face.

Jace frowns, “I don’t understand, flowers? Why? What causes such a thing?”

Finally, Rhaenyra sighs, “Love, my boy, love.”

“Love causes that?” Baela asks, astounded.

“The unrequited kind…”

“Unrequited love? Who would be fool enough to not love Y/N?” Jace asks, making Rhaenyra shake her head.

“I think you know.”

Daemon sets you down carefully in the gardens before stepping away just as the others make their way into the gardens. Jace seems to be storming towards you, determined to speak with you before your inevitable death. Daemon makes a swift exit, taking Rhaenyra and Baela with him, allowing the two of you a moment to talk.

You choose to ignore Jace, just as you had done before, running your hand along one of the beautiful flowers that only grows on Dragonstone.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Jace asks.

You hum, “It wouldn’t have mattered.”

“I, yes, it would’ve! I- I could have loved you… it did not have to come to this.”

You sigh, pulling your hand away from the plant, turning to face him, you bring your hand up to his cheek, once again feeling as though thorns are going through your skin, “You can not make yourself love, Jace.”

“But I do love you, I do… I…”

You smile, softly, “Just not as I love you.”

“I am so sorry, Y/N…”

“There is nothing to be sorry for, Jacaerys, this is not your fault.”

He shoves your hand from his face, tears glimmering in his eyes, “How can you say that?! You should be cursing me! You will die, you understand that right?! You should hate me!”

“I could never hate you.”

He begins to pace, running his hands through his hair, making you sigh, “Jace, it is okay, really.”

“You shouldn’t be saying that, no, no, I should be saying that to you! I should be the one—“

“I accepted this a long time ago, and I need you to listen to me… please,” you pat the ground next to you and Jace sits down after hovering for a moment, “I am not a dragon rider Jace, I do not want a dragon's funeral… I want… I want to be buried somewhere like here, in the gardens, let my body be the nutrients needed for the flowers to bloom.”

Jace only stares at you, committing every aspect of your face to his memory. Because there were no portraits of ‘Y/N Targaryen’ on Dragonstone, and it was too late for one to be made. The only portraits of you resided in King’s Landing but if he knew Aemond, he knew that the one-eyed man would have already destroyed them all, removing you from history. This would be the last time he’d see you, and he knew that over time his memory would fade until you were just a name without a face.

You call his name, bringing him out of his thoughts.

“Okay,” he says, shaking, “I will… make sure of it.”

The two of you sat in silence in the gardens until you asked to say your goodbyes to everyone else before finally you asking to be alone. It was only then that you began to play with the dagger you had stolen from Daemon while he had been carrying you.

And in his and Rhaenyra’s shared chambers, Daemon looks in the mirror at the empty slot on his belt where his dagger once was. He would have panicked, but fortunately he knew exactly where the weapon was and who held it.

It was no surprise to anyone when they found your body in the gardens the next morning. What was surprising was Prince Jacaerys expressing your desire to not have a dragon rider's funeral. So it was then settled, you would be buried where you had died.

Jace brought you flowers, placing them on top of the fresh soil. Bunches of purple hyacinths, something that his family would not understand but it did not matter because you would and so would he.

Even dead, the flowers in your lungs bloomed, they ripped through your organs, cracking through your bones until finally piercing through your skin into the dirt. Eventually sprouting into a beautiful bunch of carnations. 

Even in death you still loved the flowers. Even in death you still loved him.

[bubbleggum444]

—❝LITTLE MIƧƧ ACTIVIST!❞

𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑠 damian wayne x fem!reader, new hero!reader au, fluff + angst (n comfort), 3k+ wc.

𝑠𝑦𝑛𝑜𝑝𝑠𝑖𝑠 he knows all too well what it is like to feel like you don't fit it.

This felt so... wrong. Everything and everyone around ___ was just so frustrating, so difficult to deal with.

She had been an activist for as long as she could remember, fighting for what she believed in. But everything changed when she became a hero.

For better or worse? She wasn’t sure. No—oh great, Starfire just burned another tree down. Just perfect. Yeah, definitely worse.

Time and time again, this path hurt. It pulled at her, tore at her, like two different people were fighting for control inside her body.

One part of her—the old her—was someone who spent hours protesting, climbing trees to protect them, boycotting inhumane brands, and helping the vulnerable.

The other—the hero—was someone who saw, day in and day out, just how much destruction heroes left behind in their wake.

She knew her thoughts must have been tiring to others. Maybe even annoying. But she didn’t care. They weren’t her, and she wasn’t them. No one had the right to tell her how to feel about this.

Still, she could only bite her tongue for so long.

During a mission, Beast Boy casually tossed a used water bottle onto the street.

She hesitated, not wanting to sound like a nag. So instead, she simply picked it up, intending to throw it in a trash can.

Then she heard Garfield chuckle.

"Are you our new teammate or the trashman, newbie?"

Ouch.

Even the other Titans fell silent at the remark.

Her fingers clenched around the plastic, her vision burning. She didn’t dare look at any of them. She was too close to breaking.

So she walked away.

She hadn’t planned to. It was an impulsive decision, but that was who she was—rash, reactive. Always ready to act against injustice, even before becoming a hero.

She kept walking until she reached a park bench and collapsed onto it. The moment she was alone, the tears came. She hated this—hated feeling weak, hated that everything was finally catching up to her. The pressure of expectations, the weight of two halves of herself pulling in opposite directions.

It felt suffocating.

Like the disappointment she had seen in her parents’ eyes when she struggled to balance school and activism. The kind of disappointment that didn’t hurt physically but cut so much deeper.

A shiver ran down her spine as something cold wrapped around her from behind.

Whack!

On instinct, she swung back, landing a solid smack on whoever had just grabbed her.

"Damian?!" Her eyes widened.

"Oh my God, I’m so—"

"No, I deserved that," he admitted, rubbing his arm. "I came after you... I just didn’t know how to approach you."

Her chest tightened.

She hadn’t expected anyone to follow her. Least of all Damian.

She couldn’t stop the fresh wave of tears that spilled over, but this time, he was ready. He pulled her into another hug, and she let herself sink into it, gripping onto him like she might fall apart otherwise.

"There’s nothing wrong with being someone who picks up trash," she mumbled, voice still thick with emotion.

"That’s a decent, respectable job."

Damian huffed a small laugh.

"That’s not funny—"

"I know."

He tilted her chin up, his touch uncharacteristically gentle. His green eyes searched hers, steady and unreadable.

"I’ve noticed how much you’ve been pushing yourself, ___," he murmured.

"Stepping out of your comfort zone. Going against things you once believed in."

His hand brushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear, fingers lingering for a second longer than necessary.She held his gaze, her breath catching.

"It’s admirable," he continued, voice softer now. "And... I understand more than you think."

She swallowed hard.

She barely knew Damian. Out of all the Titans, he was the most closed off.

Yet here he was. In a park. In the middle of the night. Holding her. Comforting her.

Was it always this warm at this time of year?

Her voice wavered slightly when she spoke. "Meaning...?"

He exhaled, thumb brushing over her cheek like he was afraid she might break.

"Meaning I’ve been where you are," he admitted. "I know what it’s like to feel like an outsider. To think that no matter what you do, you’ll never truly fit in."

His voice dipped lower, carrying something raw beneath it.

"And it hurt deeply. I rejected those who tried to help me because they were different, yet I embraced the pain from others simply because they were my familiars."

The air between them felt heavy—not with awkwardness, but with something deeper. It was as if their hearts had silently intertwined, speaking in a language beyond words. The weight of unspoken emotions filled the space between them, their rapid beats echoing a conversation only they could understand.

She felt it. The way her heartbeat stumbled, the way something in her chest tightened painfully.

And she could feel his too. Beating, racing—just like hers.

The silence between them was fragile, delicate, like the moment might shatter if either of them spoke.

With one arm dropping to his side, the other wraps itself around her shoulder in a gentle side hug.

"Let’s go get some dumplings," he murmured. "There’s a Chinatown nearby. The vendors stay open late."

Slowly, she let herself relax against him, nodding.

"Okay," she whispered. "Let’s get some pho."

As they walked along the cobblestone streets, ___ let out a quiet giggle.

His cheeks kind of look like dumplings…

She bit her lip to suppress her laughter, but Damian caught it anyway.

His gaze flickered toward her. "What’s so funny?"

She shook her head, smiling to herself.

"Nothing," she said softly. "I’m just really excited for the food."

Damian narrowed his eyes, unconvinced. But he let it go, walking just a little closer to her as they made their way down the dimly lit street.

And for the first time in a long time, ___ felt like maybe—just maybe—she wasn’t so alone after all.

▬▬ι═══════ﺤ

𝑏𝑢𝑏𝑏𝑙𝑒𝑔𝑔𝑢𝑚444©

𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 <𝟑

alsooo BB would NEVA be like this. I just needed a "bad guy" for the story :)👌🏻

[pseudowho]

Deliverance

Hunting down a monster, you are led to an isolated little town...and into the arms of its enigmatic priest, who harbours a dark secret.

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, Vampire!Priest!Nanami, monsterfucking, winged vampire, soft!Dom/pleasure!Dom Nanami, loss of faith/disillusionment, enemies to lovers/forbidden lovers, haematophilia, corruption kink

Very much inspired by Mike Flanagan's exceptional "Midnight Mass" which I highly recommend.

Soundtrack: "Take Me To Church" by Hozier, and "All Around Me" by Flyleaf

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The bridge to the mainland lived most of its saltcured life underwater. It rose, skeletal against the fog, as if the wreck of a ship from some bygone era, only twice a day, at low tide.

You were, by now, well-established into this friendly little town; a much-needed teacher to its handful of muddy-toed children. They did now know of your armory, your deadly weaponry. They did not know of your vow to hunt down the monsters that stalked the night.

And, they did not know how you suspected that the beast responsible for the deaths of at least 20 men on the mainland, may be one of their very own. 20 murders all occurring at low-tide, and only low-tide, could not be a coincidence.

They were all scum, you mused to yourself, all rapists, paedophiles and murderers...so perhaps it does have some sort of moral code. It must be here, you reasoned, fingers tapping the woody shelves of your little school cupboard in thought.

Your hunt was hampered by the timekeeping of this sleepy fishing town; often up before sunrise to take to the sea, and back before the sun broke above the horizon, it was not unusual for its residents to sleep during the day, and rise in time for the sunset. Its little church even held an evening mass, attended by plentiful nocturnal residents, after dinner.

"Hello?" A rich baritone, which was beginning to feel so intimately familiar to you, stirred an illicit want in your belly. He called your name. You could not help but run to him.

"--sorry, I'm-- I'm here! In the cupboard!" You called out, breathless in...what? Your rush to get to him? Anticipation? Something...more?

You flurried round the corner, all eager smiles, flyaway hairs and dimples. Your eyes melted so softly upon each others' forms, both sighing with relief. Neither of you knew how the other stirred within.

"Ke--...Father Nanami. What a lovely surprise. You're not usually up so early."

Nanami Kento cut an imposing figure in his cassock and white collar. He was a big man, with mountainous shoulders, and long, broad hands. You remembered the heat that pooled in your belly, the first time he had rolled up his sleeves to help you to move supplies into the schoolhouse, his forearms so alluringly thick and corded. His size belied an easy grace, and the elegant quick-step of a busy, intelligent man.

"I found myself unable to sleep," Kento admitted, his head bowed and hands clasped as he stepped to you. He seemed paler than usual, as he continued, "I was thinking abo--...just, thinking." He finished weakly. His eyes drew so fleetingly to your fast little pulse, thrumming from your throat, down your cleavage. His mouth dried, a double-edged hunger climbing down his abdomen.

"...thinking?" You offered, slowly closing the distance between you. You ached to remove it completely, your respect for his holy vows the only thing that contained you. Kento cleared his throat, running one strong finger between his neck, and corseting black and white collar.

"...wondering. If you would be attending mass. Tonight. I have miss--...you have missed the past week, I believe."

Ah. Yes. There was rarely another time when the homes of the local residents were empty enough to allow for investigation. You had only a few more to ransack, to find your monster, and you could feel yourself closing in on it. You felt a heavy rock of regret in your belly, and you clasped one of Kento's cool, pale hands in your own. His cock twitched, to feel the burn of your flesh against his, in ways so much less intimate than what he had imagined, alone at night.

"I'm so sorry...not tonight," you frowned, and you hurried to reassure Kento as he visibly deflated, "But tomorrow, I promise you. I'll come. Truly." Kento's face, so angular and strong, softened down at you with the hint of a smile.

His hand raised up for a moment, hesitating, before cupping your cheek. You felt your heart skip a beat, the tips of his little and ring fingers ghosting over your pulse point, while his thumb swiped beneath your eye.

"...chalk," Kento whispered, seeing your pupils dilate under his inherent, dangerous magnetism. He wished nothing more than to lean down and taste you, clutched against him and whimpering in the schoolhouse. You heard thunder rumble in the distance, and smelled the petrichor of an oncoming storm.

"...I can't wait," Kento whispered, stepping back from you, with just one backwards glance before sweeping out under the wind and blotting clouds.

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Your hunt had amounted to nothing. Either, your monster was meticulously careful, or your suspicions were incorrect, and it did not reside on this island. There was just one more place you had not explored, and you resigned yourself that you may be heading home sooner than you thought.

And yet, you felt a rope behind your navel, a red string around your finger, holding you here. You decided to complete your final investigation at the home of the priest, who had become the lifeblood that ran inside you, at midnight. He generally stayed late at the church, completing administration. You would be undisturbed.

Armed, rogue-like, you blended with moonlit shadows until you reached the windows outside his bedroom. You peeked through the gaps in the wooden blinds, and were met with an image of Kento, erotic and resplendent, that seared itself into your brain for the rest of your days.

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Kento didn't need sleep, ever since his God had forsaken him. Yet still, he craved that sweet embrace, to take him away from the twisted torture of what he had become. His resolve to die this way, as some fallen angel, had been unexpectedly fractured by the will to live-- fractured by you.

Kento switched the shower off, the last droplets of water running down his back. His cassock and collar were discarded, all woven lies against the skin of a faithless hypocrite. Kento wrapped a towel loosely around his waist, stepped past the empty mirror, and out into his bedroom.

His gut churned to see his empty bed. It had been weeks since he had fed. Years since he had taken a woman for the last time, before taking his vows. Weeks, since you had begun to consume him, mind, body and soul.

Kento had been losing his faith before the change. He had grown further from God, as countless monsters died beneath his teeth. But it was thoughts of you, spread, penetrated and whimpering beneath him, that took Kento beyond redemption.

Kento shuddered at the aching greed within. He lay back on his bed, hair still damp and floppy, but desperate for sleep to grip him and pull him under. His cock, rapidly thickening and tenting beneath the towel, made him curse, one broad arm flung over his eyes, while the other tried to squeeze himself into submission.

Kento squirmed with guilt, his semi-erect cock gripped in his palm. He thought of you, your fingers dipping into your needy wet cunt, the vibrator on your clit doing nothing to relieve the ache in your soul. He thought of the way you had squirmed and begged, to your god, and to him, to be granted your release. He thought of the way you had sobbed as you came, curled round yourself, your fingers desperately trying to reach the sweet spot that would make your orgasm climb all the way into your belly.

He didn't need to imagine it, Kento thought blithely, his thumb now stroking slick pre-cum under his foreskin, and over the sweet swollen head of his cock. He didn't need to imagine it, because he had seen you, through the gap in your curtains in the dead of night. Watching you, a pale angel in the rain, hunting for the forgiveness of a body he couldn't allow himself to sully.

Kento's hand had begun to masturbate himself instinctually, to the thought of you crying out for him. For him, and he could do nothing but pretend he hadn't seen you fall apart, to the dream of him inside you.

Kento groaned, low and rumbling, his hand gripping tightly around his throbbing, heavy length, longer than his thick fist could cover. Dripping with pre-cum, Kento began to fuck into his own fist to lubricate himself. He moaned in time to the memory of you, writhing and mewling against your pillow.

Kento's other arm reached round above his head, and he sunk his sharp teeth into his pillow, licking at it, imitating how he would flick his tongue against your pert little clit with a ragged moan. He pictured you above him, riding his mouth and nose as the length of his cock fucked down your throat to the tune of sweet wet gags. Kento whispered filth into the dead of night, trying to rut himself to orgasm.

"--take it-- good girl...cum down your throat-- cum in my mouth...shit...fuck you through it soon, angel-- promise, I promise--...ahhhh, shit, SHIT--"

Kento cursed, spitting venom, his balls heavy and sore, his own hand so woefully inadequate. His canines had lengthened, his mouth twisted into a teeth-baring snarl, and he gripped his cock harder. Trailing his other fingers to his mouth, sucking on his fingertips with a shiver, Kento pierced them until he could taste the hot rush of blood, imagining it was you quenching his thirst--

At the window, completely unnoticed, you gripped the windowpane, weak-kneed. Your other hand clapped over your mouth. Kento lay naked on his bed, sprawled and ethereal under strips of moonlight, masturbating with gasps and groans that you only wished you could hear.

Those hands, that you had spent night after night, wishing were inside you. That cock, thicker and longer than you had pictured...and oh. The way he rutted into his fist with such devastating ferocity, left you jealous of his hand. Your mouth watered.

What would he do, if you knocked right now? If you offered yourself to him, spread bare and pleading? Would he forsake his vows for you? Would he turn his back to God, as he stroked his cockhead to orgasm between your wet folds, singing your praises, and spattering hot, thick cum over your clit--

You were drawn back out of your head as Kento convulsed, his anguished, sloppy moan breaking through the windows, shooting through you like a knife. You gasped, delighted by Kento's twitching pleasure.

Kento hit his orgasm with the turmoiled strength of a stormfront, breaking. His final image was of you, cradling his sore cock between your legs, humping him inside you while you whispered to him and he whined into your hair and got lost in the smell of you, god, the smell of you, he could smell you now--

Kento spasmed, crying out as cum spurted in heavy stripes up his abdomen, his orgasm threaded with a tinge of horror-- fuck, he could smell you, you were here nearby, he knew the smell of that skin and that blood and that cunt--

Kento sat up with a jolt and a snarl, still gasping, the power of the hunt crashing through him. His teeth bared, animalistic, he wrenched his window up, sticking his head out into the night.

The smell of you, quickly fading, was being carried away by the wind. And Nanami Kento was losing his mind.

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You could barely compose yourself, walking into Church the next evening. The night had crept in fast; another storm churning over the water, was pulling the moon in with it. You felt overburdened with...guilt? Desire? You could not hide it, you were sure.

You could not hide it, as Kento's rich voice embraced the pews. You could not hide it, as your voice trembled its way through hymns. Kento's stern, impassive face remained unreadable, as you took communion from him. You met each others' eyes, both thinking about the same thing; his finger grazed your tongue, and gazed upon your sweet face, open-mouthed and doe-eyed, kneeling before him.

And despite all this, it was each others' company you craved more than anything more carnal. You found excuses to stay, in the church, loitering as Kento bid the crowds a warm goodbye. As the last person left, finally alone, you turned to each other. You both held your breath.

After a few moments, yours released in a twinkling laugh, and a blush, that had Kento's chest clenching in possessive adoration.

"I...have neglected you, father," you offered, brushing your hair behind your ear. Kento huffed, at first, pinching the bridge of his nose, before laughing. A genuine laugh. Deep, velvety, and rich. You were putty in his hands, and he didn't even know.

"Alas...it is the life of the clergy. Our own needs, go...unmet." Kento grimaced, a forced half-smile. His hands clasped over his lap.

You felt the tinge of bitterness at the edge of his words. You swallowed, thickly. Your fate balanced on the edge of a knife.

"Not...not all of them, surely? You could...you could join me for dinner?" You couldn't miss how Kento's eyebrows raised fractionally, his pupils dilating. Kento felt a dangerous hunger.

"I...I'm not sure-- I shouldn't--"

"Of course, you're completely right--" you flapped, taking a step back, and Kento's hunger gripped you back with jealous need.

"...I shouldn't be long here. An hour, maybe? If...if you'll allow it." Kento could feel himself twist under the need to possess you, one way or another. Judging by the smell of you, you would be wet, supple under his lips.

"Perfect," you blurted, standing up on your tiptoes for one happy moment, "perfect. I'll cook. We can...we can talk. I can't wait."

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A brisk knock. You hurried to the door, biting your lip, briefly abandoning dinner on the stove.

"Father," you cried, damning yourself for sounding so excited, "you're here...I'm glad. I was afraid you wouldn't...anyway..."

You hurried back to the stove, leaving the door open. After a moment, you looked up, seeing Kento leaning against the doorframe, looking at with with something...unreadable, in his eyes. He simply stood, drinking you in as you cooked.

"...Father? What are you waiting out there for? Come in." Blinking, chuckling to himself, Kento stepped over the threshold, closing the door behind him and gently placing a bottle of wine on the table.

"Please. Call me Kento. It seems...silly, if we're having dinner, and a night together." You felt heat blossom through you, at the accidental double-meaning behind Kento's words.

Dinner together was soft, intimate, the food and wine smoothing over an already glossy conversation. You were made malleable by the wine. You were intoxicated by him. Kento looked into you with such knowledge of you, that you were laid bare beneath his gaze.

Sat facing each other on the sofa, Kento had abandoned his white collar, the buttons of his cassock and white shirt undone to his chest. He rolled wine around his glass, his head leaning on one hand, smiling as you talked. The wine made you stupid, and you blurted out;

"Why? Why...did you join the church, Kento?" It was, in part, rhetorical. A cry of despair against the crime of Kento being made untouchable. His answer surprised you, and you found yourself shuffling closer as he talked.

"I ask myself that same question every day. Ever since..." Kento bit his tongue, thinking of the night he was turned, on a missionary trip abroad. Thinking about the day you walked into his parish, setting him aflame with unquenchable burning thirst. Kento cleared his throat, swirling his wine. He felt his primal magnetism drawing you to him like a moth to the flame, and he could not stop himself.

"...I have become...disillusioned, with the church. I am...torn," Kento admitted. Your knees were touching his now, and you leaned towards him with lovesick eyes. Kento felt the thrill of the hunt, feeling the sting of his teeth lengthening. His cock twitched as your breath passed over his cheek.

"...torn?" You felt a quiver of fear now, in the way Kento's eyes darkened, his hand slipping over to grip behind your knee, pulling you into his lap. He set aside his glass. It should have rung alarm bells. You were so drunk, but you had only had one glass of wine. Kento smelled so intoxicating. You were warm, floppy as he pulled you to straddle his lap, cupping your face with both hands.

"...torn," he whispered, his nose brushing yours. Kento's hunger overtook his panic for you, a victim to himself. Kento whispered against your lips, watching your eyes flutter closed, your head heavy and lilting to the side, exposing the pretty thrum of your throat to him.

"...torn," he continued, gliding his tongue up the pulse in your neck, feeling his cock jump against your clothed pussy, "...all because of you...if God has forsaken me, I hope he never wants me back. If only you would let me worship you, instead."

Kento's lips hovered over yours, barely quelling his urgent need to feed on you, until you whimpered his name. Kento snapped, and pulled you in by the back of the neck, crashing his lips to yours with the ragged groan of a starving man.

Your head swam with Kento, clutching his open collar and falling against him, allowing him to devour your mouth with bliss. You murmured against his lips, sloppy and licking, tasting the sweet allure of him, and his grip on the back of your neck grew crushing, his weight now bearing over you to press you back into the sofa, a sharp sting on your lip--

"Ow! I...ugh, sorry...I'm bleeding--"

As you moved to sit up, shocked back out of your reverie, Kento had pushed himself back to the other side of your sofa. One hand had clasped over his mouth. He trembled, and shook, white-knuckles clasping the sofa. You heard a sharp gasp, as if Kento was in pain.

With blood on your lip, you reached for him-- and stopped. Your eyes fixed on the switched-off television opposite you both. You stood, slowly, moving towards the hallway, and your bag, trying to control your terrified little heart.

"I'll just...get a cloth, for my li--"

As you pulled a blade from your bag, standing up to spin around, you were thrown back to the wall, your head cushioned by Kento's hand. You cried out, feeling him bracket you against the wall, his cassock now abandoned, his form seeming to grow and swell before you. Kento's face pressed to your neck, and you felt the hot throb of his growing cock against your belly.

You stood this way, both panting into each other, your knife pressed over Kento's heart, and his teeth pressed to your throat. Your heart broke, fragile beneath Kento's twisting form, and hungry mouth. You hiccuped, your hand and resolve faltering.

"...I never wanted...I wish it wasn't...why did it have to be you?" You sobbed, your arm starting to lower. Kento growled against you, already two feet taller, his enormous chest trapping you in against the wall. You felt the lights blotting out around you, as vast, black, velvety wings unfurled from Kento's back.

"...always...you always knew...just couldn't accept--" Kento gasped, his tongue darting out against your neck, ridged and trembling. His chest burst with pain to feel you sob beneath him.

"I can't do it," you cried, your knife hand lowering again, "just take what you want, because I can't-- I love you-- I'm not strong enough." Kento's teeth gritted, his face crumpling against the soft copper scent of your skin. His enormous hand gripped yours, raising the knife to press to his chest. You gasped and cried out, resisting his pull; a bead of blood sprung up around the tip, pressed to Kento's chest.

"From the moment you arrived," Kento growled, his teeth pressing gently over your pulse point, starving and needy, "...my life...everything I am, has been yours to take. I would know you, blind and deaf...and I would be honoured, for you to take my life as penance for my sins."

You gritted your teeth, completely releasing your grip on the blade. It clattered to the floor. You reached up to trail hands up Kento's enormous, powerful shoulders. Your fingertips grazed the soft base of his wings, and Kento shivered, shuddering into you. He felt a dribble of pre-cum soak his stretched, ripping boxers.

"Then I condemn you to live, Kento," you whispered, pulling his face up to yours. His pupils were dilated, bursting with lust, inky black in pools of crimson, "...and take me. However you want me."

Kento snarled at you again, pressing himself to you, pinning your arms above your head with one thick hand; "You have no idea what you're asking for," he hissed, "I will eat you alive." He felt you tremble, seeing the golden resolve in your eyes. You leaned forwards to his mouth, begging.

"Then eat me...or fuck me, like you fucked your hand to me."

Kento cursed, snapping, lifting you against him. You wrapped your legs around his hips, feeling Kento reach down to shred the clothes off himself, completely absorbed by the need to possess you, to love you.

Flung backwards onto the bed, you gasped at Kento's monstrous form. Eight feet tall, broad and exquisite, his great black wings folded and unfolded against his back. His aching cock dripped with pre-cum, so much bigger than when you had seen him cum into his own hand. His face, still undeniably Kento, stared into you, owning you. Heat pooled between your legs, as he grasped his cock in one great hand, groaning and shuddering.

You crept forwards, still drunk on him, and his nephilim glory. Kento's hand stuttered around his cock as you licked the tip.

"--fuck-- too big for you-- you can't--" Kento uttered a strangled moan, to feel your hot little mouth engulf his cockhead, your lips stretched wide, gulping him to the back of your throat, all hot little licks and sucks. Every fibre of his being needed to buck forwards into your mouth, and you felt two great hands tangle in your hair.

When your hands joined your mouth, stroking down his aching length, masturbating the parts of his cock your mouth could not reach, Kento rutted involuntarily. Moaning, begging and whining your name, his voice ran deep and ragged around his sharp canines.

"--darling, I-- shit I-- so good...so good for me...taking me s--so well, haaaaah...not-- can't last-- like this--"

You hummed around his cock, swallowing down a trickle of salty pre-cum, feeling the gentle pressure of his fingertips against your head. So aware of his size and strength, Kento handled you like a china doll, with the utmost love and affection. Kento moaned with abandon, his head thrown back, his great wings furling and unfurling with divine pleasure.

Swallowing around Kento's thick tip at the back of your throat, you felt his cock leaping in warning. Kento tried half-heartedly to pull you off him, whimpering and moaning with fractured cries of your name;

"--can't swallow-- s'too much-- ohhh fuck, my love-- c-cumming, I'm cumming-- fffuuuck yes, swallow-- all of it--"

You squeaked as his cock jolted and twitched in your mouth, Kento's balls clenched tight as he hunched around your mouth, pressing your head to him. Your mouth and throat flooded with Kento's bitter seed, cooler than that of a normal man, and you swallowed him down with pride. Kento's groans and breaths ran ragged, as you licked him clean.

Kento panted, glossy-eyed as he came down from his high, his cock still half-hard against his thigh. Crowding your body against the bed with his, his fingertips grazed the dress you wore, before ripping it from you with a bared-teeth growl. You felt your bra snapped in the middle, as if it were paper. Your breasts heaved, nipples peaked under Kento's ravenous attention.

Poking his tongue out to tease it over one hard nipple, you felt your clit throb to feel the otherworldly ridges and grooves running along his tongue's sides and tip. Whining as he sucked your pebbled nipple into his mouth, you shuddered to feel Kento's sharp teeth graze your sensitive peak. He savoured you, lathering your nipple against his tongue, until you felt you could cum from that alone.

His other hand rose to engulf your second breast, your nipple rolled so tenderly between two great fingers. You felt a trickle of arousal soak your underwear. Kento could smell it, and pressed his hand to your lower belly, feeling vaguely for the telltale swell of ovulation.

"...made a mistake, angel...letting me take you like this-- nothing of you left, by the time I'm done with you--mine-- all mine-- fuck--"

Trailing kisses down your belly, sniffing you and eager to fill you with his smell, his body thrummed for you. Kento threw your legs over his shoulders, ripping the sides of your underwear and tossing the scraps aside.

His eyes fixed on your pussy, slick and clenching. Kento shuddered, feeling his cock beginning to bound to life again. It flopped, heavy and twitching against his thigh, filling again in preparation to fill you. Kento felt a vague desire to ensnare you, trapping you inside his drunken intoxication, to fill you, and fill you, and fill you, until your belly swelled, oozing his thick, white seed.

"...Kento...please..." Your sweet begging pulled Kento out of himself. Despite his monstrous form, his face softened, his eyes fixed to yours as his tongue, long and ridged, stretched out of his mouth. You saw stars as it lathed insistently from side to side, spreading your folds, stroking back and forth over your aching, pearly clit.

Kento mumbled into your pussy, tasting you, his long tongue fucking into your cunt while his nose nuzzled your clit. Mewling, your hands flew down to sink into Kento's hair, and you felt your hands grasped and pinned against your belly. Kento knew, with a faint pang, that if your fingernails scratched against his sensitive scalp, he would surely spill his seed all over your floor.

Kento draped his other forearm over your belly and hips, pinning you down as you twisted beneath his attention. He lapped, sucked, and nipped at you with the softest bites to your clit, his tongue fucking in and out of you with inhuman dexterity.

You bucked your hips down the bed, eager to feel his tongue sink into your deepest parts, and Kento obliged with a wet moan. You felt his tongue lathe against your spongy spot, pinned down as he devoured you.

"--just there...harder please, please-- god I need your cock in me, please-- fuck me please-- please--"

You begged and pleaded your way to orgasm, your arousal seeping out around Kento's tongue as you came with a jolt and a cry, your thighs clamping around Kento's head, feet tickling against his sensitive wings. Kento continued to fuck his tongue in and out of you, lathering you with his spit, tasting your arousal, desperate to taste more of you.

You reached down, trying to pull Kento up your body. He almost laughed at your casual management of a true to life vampire, about to fuck you into the mattress. Kento allowed it, settling above you, his pupils narrowing at the insistent beat of your throat. Suddenly, and with a strangled growl, Kento knocked your head aside, his teeth grazing at your throat, and his monstrous cock throbbing at your entrance.

You trembled beneath him, heaving and gasping from your high. All of your resolve left you, beneath his tongue, and you uttered words you knew to be true;

"...I trust you, Kento."

Kento pressed into you, with teeth and cock and a husky moan. You felt a sharp pierce at your neck, his teeth just deep enough to feel the hot splash of your blood against his tongue. Kento almost finished then and there, his seed threatening to spatter into your folds and entrance, instead of in your belly, as he had promised himself. Kento drank you, his mouth clamped around your neck, one great hand cupping your head to the side while the other gripped your hip.

With a squeak and a protracted, broken moan of his name, you felt Kento's cock stretch through your wet velvety walls. You squirmed, trying to climb up the bed, feeling Kento growl around your throat and yank you back down.

Kento was enormous, by far the biggest cock you had ever taken, splitting you with a dull sting. Your fluttering hole soothed as Kento began to rut his length into you. His red, leaking tip bullied your cervix, bumping it up against your womb, with inches of him still outside of you.

You uttered strangled little moans, completely pinned beneath his hulking form, feeling him rut as much of his cock inside you as he could fit. With a shiver, Kento denied himself of any more blood at your throat. His tongue stroked your wounds, clotting the blood there, as he fucked gently into you.

Kento's wings caged you both in, and he stared down at where his cock tried to stretch your pussy out with dopey, lovesick eyes. A trickle of your blood ran down from the corner of his mouth, and he was struck with a sudden burst of pride for you. Kneeling back, Kento pushed your knees up to your chest, crushing over you in a mating press.

You writhed, as Kento managed to sink more of his cock into you, groaning which each stroke he watched enter and pull out of you. Your slick formed a translucent white ring most of the way down his cock length. Kento was eager to see it drip down his balls. He gasped down at your prone, fucked-out form, and gently began to press and roll the fatty flesh around your clit, making you buck up into him with pathetic little mewls.

"--fit it in--fit all of me in...if you cum again-- fuck you through it, baby...fuck you through it...fuck you through it..."

Kento repeated this like a mantra, every gradually strengthening thrust into you taking him deeper, your pussy stretched to its limits around his terrifying girth and length. Leaning over where you joined, Kento spat a smooth mouthful of spit, stroking it around his base, lubricating you both, before upping his pace and intensity again.

You cried out, head thrown back as you arched, feeling Kento so deeply that you clasped your belly. Kento planted one hand over yours, his fucks growing gradually more feral as he bared his teeth, determined to finally take what was his, after so many years of miserable self-denial.

"--mine make you mine make you mine--leave it behind...leave it all...for you...shit-- so tight, just--milk it out-- all my cum-- all yours, I swear..."

As you came, your pussy clenching and spasming, Kento finally bottomed out. His head flung back with a cry of success, slamming into you with abandon as he chased his high, desperate to see you filled with his cum. Cursing, and spitting, teeth bared and blacking out the room around you with his wings, Kento came with a roar, and you felt your pussy and belly flooded by him.

His cock jerked long, protracted twitches inside you, spurting thick bursts of cum, with nowhere to go but up, plugged by his enormous girth. You were pliable and dazed, taking it with the sweet relief of his love for you, his seed soothing your swollen inner walls like a balm.

Kento faltered above you, staggered and dazed. Keeping his cock stuffed inside you, manoeuvring himself onto his side, he swept one great wing beneath you, and one above you. You felt yourself cocooned, sleepy and full, reaching into hand up to tangle into Kento's hair. He pressed a lazy kiss to your palm.

"...you're a...terrible vampire hunter..." Kento slurred, fading out into soft snores, just seconds later.

He's not wrong, you reasoned to yourself, wondering and drifting to sleep in his arms and wings, maybe he'll help me.

[volt44ge]

the calm before the storm.

oliver bearman (F1) x social media admin!reader

⋆˙⟡ When the weather puts the Japanese GP to a halt, two rookies—one behind the wheel, the other behind the screen—find quiet comfort in unexpected company.

word count: 1,227

notes: fluff, slow-burn, anxious reader and comforting Ollie, a new garage duo in the making…?

a/n: MY FIRST EVER FIC IVE EVER WRITTEN PLS BE NICE english isnt my first language either and this wasn’t proofread but enjoy!!

Being back in Suzuka meant dealing with one of the more demanding circuits on the calendar. Between the technical corners, long straights, and ever-shifting weather, it was a beast of its own. And today, as predicted all week, ithe rain hadn’t stopped from the moment you woke up. Puddles glistened along the pit lane, and the clouds showed no signs of clearing.

Just a few hours earlier, race control has confirmed to each teams that the race will be delayed.

Inside the garage, the atmosphere was oddly calm. Some teams are going through last-minute race strategies, some are milking content whilst having their drivers stuck in place, and some just laughed over card games and half-finished cups of instant coffee. It was that rare kind of lull where the usual tension of race day fizzled into something quieter.

Your marketing director had just wrapped up a last-minute team “discussion”— nothing too pressing, just a rundown of deliverables and content expectations for the upcoming week. As your colleagues scattered back to their corners of the garage to proceed on their assigned content, you remained in the hallway, staring at your spreadsheet with dread.

“How do I even finish this in less than 48 hours…?” you muttered under your breath, scrolling through piles of tasks that were apparently “light” enough for a newbie like you.

From the corner of your eye, you noticed a figure approaching. Tall, rain-slicked curls still drying, and hands wrapped around a steaming mug.

“Tea?” he asked, voice soft, almost hesitant. He held the mug out towards you. You captured a quick glance of the label hanging by the side. Earl Grey, your favorite.

You blinked. “Sure, yeah… Thank you.”

He offered a small, warm smile. “I don’t think I’ve properly introduced myself, I’m Oliver. Well… Ollie, I guess.”

You smiled back, already warmed by more than just the tea. Real humble, you thought. “Yeah, I don’t think we’ve had the opportunity of working together yet. I’m Y/N”

“I don’t think i’ve seen you around last season— you’re new?”

You knew that Ollie has been around the garage longer than you since he’s had the opportunity to race with Haas a couple of times the previous season.

“Yeah. Joined at the start of the year,” you nodded awkwardly. “Just trying my best to get familiar around the team… It’ll take some time,” you blushed.

You earned a soft giggle from him. “Hey, same. Rookie year for me too. I guess we’re both just trying to survive.”

There was a brief pause—comfortable, but not awkward—as the rain pattered steadily against the roof above.

“No, yeah, I’m sure you’ll get by just fine,” he added, tone sincere.

Ollie turned towards the little makeshift common room tucked just down the hallway—a few worn couches, a monitor with the live broadcast muted, and scattered paper cups of half-empty coffee and tea from the rest of the crew. He took a seat on the corner of the couch, then looked up and patted the space next to him, inviting you.

You followed, tea in hand, and sat down.

“How’s it going with all the team content stuff?” he asked, taking a quick peek at your screen.

“Eh, I don’t know. I mean… it’s going I guess…?” you sighed, flipping the iPad around so he could take a better look at your spreadsheet. “Supposedly these are all the “lighter” tasks for me since I’m new, but I really don’t get how all of this translates to ‘light’”

Ollie leaned in to scan it. His eyebrows shot up. “This is the ‘light’ stuff?”

“Right?” you laughed, half exasperated, half-grateful you got yourself someone who understands you. “Apparently I’m expected to shoot, edit, upload, and copywrite for I-don’t-even-know-how-many languages in less than 48 hours, but yeah sure. Light.”

He chuckled, running a hand through his hair. “I thought racing was intense. Yeah… good luck with all that.”

You shrugged, still smiling. “Yeah thanks. I mean… Can’t complain too much since I’m more than grateful to be here… But yeah! Guess we’re both getting thrown into the deep end.”

There was something comforting in it—in sharing that unspoken understanding. You were both new. Still uncertain in your own unique ways. But sitting here, face to face, sipping tea while the rain fell in steady sheets outside, it felt as though everything’s going to be just fine.

He nudged your shoulder gently. “Well, if you ever need a break from all that—someone to film, or just someone to complain to—I’m probably lurking around somewhere.”

You met his eyes for a second longer than before. “Thanks, Ollie. I might take you up on that.”

“Good,” he said, leaning back into the couch. “I hope you do.”

Ollie gave you a sideways glance. “So… if you’re handling all those lighter stuff, does that mean you’re responsible for editing those silly TikToks of me and Esteban then?”

You laughed, covering your face with your hand. “You caught me, yes. I understand if you’re not going the forgive me.”

He laughed, a warm, genuine sound that made your stomach flutter unexpectedly. “Look, I must admit it was good content. Very Gen-Z, you definitely know what you’re doing.”

You smiled into your tea, grateful for how easy it felt to sit here with him. There was something nice—strangely grounding—about talking to someone your age in the garage, who was also still figuring things out. His presence calmed the chaos buzzing in your brain.

“Hey,” he said suddenly, nudging your elbow with his. “If you ever need help with filming, I mean it. You know how they say that drivers are usually the worst when it comes to social stuff, but… I don’t mind”

You raised an eyebrow. “Are you. volunteering yourself as tribute?”

“Maybe,” he shrugged with a smirk. “You seem like you need a win.”

You were just about to respond—something teasung, something to match the warmth rising in your cheeks—when a voice crackled through the team radio behind the wall.

“Attention all crew members—race control is monitoring a weather window. Be on standby. We’ll provice further updates in fifteen.”

Just like that, the stillness shifted.

Outside, engineers began quietly mobilizing. Crew members started moving with purpose again, checking the tire sets and adjusting strategy sheets. The rain hadn’t stopped but the buzz of maybe soon was starting to fill the air.

Ollie straightened slightly, stretching his arms. The calm before the storm—literally—was over.

“Well,” he said, standing and offering you his hand, “looks like they’re calling us back to life.”

You took it, letting him pull you off the couch with surprising ease.

“Guess the peace was short-lived,” you said, brushing imaginary dust off your shirt, when really you were just trying to steady your nerves.

“Hey,” He said, catching your gaze before you turned. “Seriously, don’t let all that content eat you alive just yet. You got this”

Your heart tugged at the unexpected softness in his voice. You gave a small smile. “And you—Don’t let Suzuka chew you up out there.”

He grinned. “No promises.”

As the boy jogged lightly back toward the main garage area, you stood for a moment longer, watching him disappear into the chaos, still clutching your half-empty tea.

It was nothing. Just small chat.

Just two rookies killing time in the rain.

And yet… your chest felt a little lighter.

part 2…?

[mixsethaddams]

Scary Dog Eddie Munson and Tamer Steve Harrington.

(Originally posted on twitter)

🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀

Steve Harrington had changed.

It was subtle, easy to miss. You really only noticed if you knew what you were looking for.

It wasn’t his hair, his clothes, his cologne… No. It went deeper than that.

It wasn’t the person that had changed, it was the soul. His very essence had been rewritten.

On the surface he was still the same goofy Steve, the jock still not quite getting the joke.

But if you saw the change, oh you really saw it.

He carried himself differently now. There was a confidence held in his shoulders that came from much more than some meaningless status as a school athlete. His smile was sharp enough to cut right through you.

It was obvious once you knew why.

Eddie Munson was a dark cloud. He infected any space he graced with a searing sense of dread and he always left people with a chill down their spine.

It was impossible to relax around him.

The whispers about what it was really like in his hidden corner of Forest Hills never sounded too far fetched because if you knew Eddie, nothing would surprise you.

Eddie was a beast. And who better to slay a dragon, than a King.

Steve was like a lightning bolt through Eddie’s storm.

They fit together in a way that boomed like thunder and flowed like a flood. If Steve was untouchable in this town before, Eddie made him invincible.

Steve revelled in the way people looked away when they went anywhere.

After years of having all eyes on him, being paraded through school like a prize pony, he licked his teeth every time someone turned away to avoid him looking their way.

Not everyone was smart enough not to stare directly into the fire.

Tommy Hagan missed his friend.

They were two sides of the same coin for years, until Munson came along. When Carol moved out of state and took her heart with him, Tommy was left adrift. He wanted some comfort from an old pal.

Getting shot down after trying to call Steve hurt. It stung. It made no sense.

Tommy was walking through the woods behind the school when he heard Steve’s voice.

He followed it to the clearing; the old picnic bench where girls would lift their skirts for ten dollars a look.

It was nice out here, Tommy decided. They could talk for a while, maybe.

Tommy stood at the treeline behind Steve, who sat backwards on the seat looking out to the forest, leaning back against the table.

His mind was slow from the warm beer he’d stolen from his old man to drown his sorrows. He didn’t see anything at first. He just started talking.

“Steve?”

Steve’s head whipped around to see who called him. He let out a small breath of a laugh, one of the hands that had been spread across the table flying to his lap.

“Tommy, hey,” Steve said, shifting where he sat. “I’m busy,”

Tommy’s brow creased. “Doing what?”

Steve laughed again and turned away, facing back to the trees.

“I just want to say hi to my friend,” Tommy protested. “Since it’s been so hard to talk to you since that fucking freak Munson started following you around,”

Steve said nothing, he simply dropped his head back.

The angle was severe enough that Tommy could see his smile.

“You think it’s funny?” Tommy demanded. “Everyone says it, they all say how weird it is that he sniffs around you like…like a fucking dog or something,”

Steve’s fave pinched slightly and he made a small noise.

“Yeah….” Steve breathed, lifting his head again.

“Yeah!” Tommy snapped. “It’s true! And-”

“Tommy fuck off, would you?” Steve said, sounding out of breath. “I told you I’m busy,”

“You’re…” Tommy spluttered. “Are you kidding me? You won’t even turn around to look at me!”

Steve didn’t answer.

“Steve fucking look at me!” Tommy yelled, echoing around the clearing.

Steve sighed and lifted the hand that had been in his lap.

Eddie appeared slowly, drifting up from the floor like smoke from a snuffed candle. “He told you to fuck off, Hagan,”

Tommy took a shocked step back. His drunken mind instantly sobered, catching up quickly. Eddie’s lips were red and puffy, his eyes wet at the corners. His hair was tangled like it had been gripped tight.

“Fuck,” Tommy said. He stumbled back again as Eddie rounded the table.

“Whats wrong?” Eddie mocked. “Don’t wanna stay and chat now that the, what was it? Fucking freak? Is here too?”

“You…you were….”

Tommy’s gaze darted over to Steve. He was still sitting in his spot, his head rolled over his shoulder to lazily observe their interaction.

“I was,” said Eddie. “And I’d like to continue, so how ‘bout you do like you were told,”

Tommy was still drunk enough to be bold.

“No,” he said, tilting his chin. “How do I know you’re not just gonna rob him? Huh? Trailer trash like you? I bet Steve’s the perfect bait,”

Eddie sighed. Tommy got no warning before Eddie lunged at him, pinning him to a tree and holding his forearm to his throat.

“Wanna say that again?” Eddie said in a low rumble. “Or maybe you wanna see what trailer trash like me can really do when I’ve got some bait on my hook?”

Tommy squirmed against his hold, feeling the pressure on his neck. Steve appeared over Eddie’s shoulder.

“I’m bored,” he said, running a finger down the side of Eddie’s neck. “Take me home?”

Eddie’s lip curled, not taking his eyes off Tommy.

Steve smiled and rubbed his cheek on the shoulder of Eddie’s leather jacket. “Down boy, let’s go,”

Eddie released Tommy at Steve’s word and stepped away from him.

Tommy leaned over to catch his breath and noticed Steve’s belt was still undone.

“Steve,” he said, breathless.

Steve raised his eyebrow at Tommy.

“You’re serious about this guy?” he asked. “Like this isn’t some sick joke?”

Eddie made a move towards Tommy again but Steve stilled him with a soft touch to his chest.

“I’m sorry Carol dumped you,” Steve told him without emotion. “Go find something better,”

“I don’t…” said Tommy. “Steve, man, I…I just want to talk to you. I want to hang out with a friend to feel better. You really won’t give me that?”

Steve regarded Tommy with a slow look

“No,” Steve said. “You called Eddie names, I don’t want to talk to you,”

Tommy baulked. “You’re…! Steve!”

“You’re a bully, Tommy,” said Steve matter of factly in a fake soothing voice. “That’s why Carols gone. I don’t wanna your friend,”

“You were a bully too!” said Tommy.

Steve smiled, took Eddie’s hand and leaned against him “And I make up for it every way I can,”

Tommy took a heavy step forward to follow them as they went to leave. Eddie turned back quickly and Tommy almost collided with his chest. “I thought we told you to fuck off,”

“Eddie,” Steve’s voice was firmer more. “Let’s go,”

No more asking. This was a command.

Eddie practically snarled as he moved away from Tommy once more and started to walk with Steve out of the clearing.

“I mean it Tommy,” Steve called over his shoulder in a light sing-song. “Go find better, than Carol I mean. Won’t be hard…”

His voice trailed off into a quiet laugh.

Tommy sank to the forest floor, crawling backwards to lean against the tree Eddie had pinned him to.

Tommy didn’t know if he’d ever find better than Carol. He didn’t know if he even wanted to look. It felt too overwhelming to think about finding someone new. He wanted to marry Carol. He couldn’t bear the idea of growing old with anyone else. Or at least thats how it felt.

But right now Tommy could barely even comprehend the last twenty minutes, never mind the rest of his life. Nothing made sense anymore.

The only thing Tommy knew for sure right now?

Steve Harrington sure had changed.

[uravitypng]

bird creature/hybrid keigo takami x chubby reader

KINKTOBER: breeding (+praise)

word count: 3.0k words / mdni ! 18+ / this turned into a full on fic and is pretty fluffy tbh <3 it has more plot than porn sdfgjhbmfbxfvcbsxn and i haven't read it through properly but ssshhhh

being kicked out of your party sucks, 'you don't fill the roll of beast tamer' or something, they've found someone more skilled and experienced so now you're stuck alone in the middle of a forest after accepting a quest which you currently regret taking.

it should be a simple herb collection quest but it's being more of a hassle than it's worth, you shred off the top layers of your clothes and tie it around your waist, dropping your sheep hide bag and gulping down some of your water. after a while you stumble across a clearing with a lake and it looks like you'll finally be able to have room to properly set up your tent.

you don't realise but you're being watched. golden brown eyes piercing down at you, watching you with hawk-eyed vision on high alert to his surroundings. you met him the following morning, as you were leaving your tent something suddenly blocked out the sunlight before landing next to you. a bird creature was in front of you or maybe he was a hybrid, you weren't sure but he was rather intimidating. this man has bright red feather wings with a huge wing span and sandy blonde and white small fluffy parts on his arms and chest covered with a brown flimsy tunic with a handsome human face with golden eyes and blonde windswept hair. you're already quite fearful but after you spot his talons that look like they could slice you in half you really start panicking.

you were able to calm down when he smiled and held out his hand, you flinched first but in his palms where berries. you know those berries, they were edible, very rare and very tasty. later you found out his name was keigo but everyone call him hawks, when he told you this he also told you that he wanted you to call him keigo. he has limited human speech and it was hard to communicate with each other but you both tried your best.

you don't know this but when you accepted the berries he gave you in his mind that made you his mate, it solidified it in his mind and he was very happy that you accepted his advances. he's your provider and he has to look after you. you don't know that he thinks like that though.

you should of left the forest weeks ago, there was no reason for you to stay... well apart from keigo. you knew he would stay in the forest it's his home, you couldn't ask him to go with you and why would he? 'i probably care about him a lot more than he does me, which is fine! he likely has plenty of friends and his own kind in the forest, i just miss company after what happened with my old party... i like his company.' you can't bring yourself to leave, not yet, even if that means you're getting close to the rainy season, and it's always dangerous to be out in the wild in the rainy season. it's so easy to wind up dead, your body never found either downstream or at the bottom of cliffs that people can't access.

"shit!" you were foresting for some berries when you felt a drop of rain fall on your head, that drop turned into ten, then twenty, then fifty, all in a matter of seconds. you nearly fell as you tried to turn back to the somewhat safer option of your tent but the ground below you quickly became mud and slippy causing you to trip, luckily you were able to catch yourself on a nearby tree before falling face first and getting back as fast but safely as you can.

you're soaked to the bone and as the tent finally meets your eyeline it's getting you to walk quicker. you hear something above and you look up the best you can, covering your eyes with your hand but still somehow some water gets in your eyes, looking above you see hawks flying to you. "keigo, what are you doing?! go home, get in the tent, get anywhere. i know it might be different for you, i know you're less fragile than me but it's still raining heavily. what if there's lightning!" you shout at him to the sky.

keigo lands down, water slashing you in the process and getting mud on your trousers. he's careful as he pulls you towards him, making sure his talons won't hurt you and you're pressed against his body, "come." you're confused and you try to move so you can reach your tent but as you look behind you your back straightens as you see your tent. you don't even know if you could call it a tent anymore. the wind has blown it so much that it's just broken cut up fabric tied down by one singular peg, the others already blown away. "come," he repeats himself and pulls you closer towards his warm body before flying away, you can't help but scream as you lift up off the ground and you swear over the rain you can hear keigo laugh. you always wondered what it would be like if he took you up in his wings to fly, you've always thought they were so majestic but you never envisioned it going like this.

it's hard to hear and talk over the heavy patter of the rain but you try anyway. "keigo where are we going?"

"home," he replies and you hear him loud and clear, you don't know if that's because he's louder than the rain or leaning close to you or if you hear it loud and clear because your heart is just beating out of your chest at the answer.

it seemed like a long while of flying but when you finally reached the floor keigo carefully landed and put you down. looking around to where you are you see that you're outside a cave but you don't know that you can call it a cave anymore. at a quick glance from the outside it looks like it was originally a cave but the opening is covered by rocks, wood and other building materials, keeping the inside warm and dry. there's a wooden door to the side and you think you can see a lock on it. the outside reminded you a lot of your childhood home but you can't pinpoint why. "come," he grabs your wrist cautiously with his talons and leads you inside.

a blast of heat hits you when you enter and you immediately warm up, even if it's just a little bit through your wet clothes. it looks pretty barren apart from some small trinkets along the wall and the bed is covered in blankets and other fluffy comfortable things, definitely more comfortable than anything you've been sleeping recently. you stay where you are not moving from the door, not wanting to get everything wet. keigo leaves but comes back a minute or so after with a towel for you and second one in his hand for him.

"thank you," you say quietly and shyly taking the towel from him. after doing your best to dry your hair and dry the rest of your clothes keigo leans down to your neck and nuzzles you while cooing, heat quickly rises to your cheeks and he pulls back and takes you further into his home before dropping your hand and he goes back into one of his back rooms.

you miss his hand in yours but when he returns he's holding a shirt, "for you."

"me?" you point to yourself and he nods. "i don't know if it will fit, i might be a bit small." you tell him but he looks back at you with an easygoing smile that puts you at ease. you know it probably won't fit right, you're not exactly small but you don't have much choice with how wet your clothes are. "thank you," you return his smile. you feel small under his gaze as he looks at you, it seems like he has no plan to leave you alone to get changed or look away. "um, okay, i'll-" you turn away from him and lift up your top. when you take it off and start to fold it keigo holds you from behind, wrapping his arms around you, his wings softly fluttering. you get flustered and wonder what you should do, this isn't normal human behaviour but keigo isn't human maybe this is completely normal for him, although he's never done this before, but maybe he knows how cold you are.

"k-keigo i need to put this on, i'll get cold." he's slow as he takes his hands off you, making you shiver in the process. you quickly get changed pulling on the top that you've been given and pulling down your trousers. you were right about how it doesn't fit you but at least you're dry. the top is thin and covers up to your mid-thigh, the fabric tight along your waist, stomach and breasts but it's still comfortable. you turn round to look at him and twiddle with your thumbs, he smiles at you again and rubs his face against yours, making your cheeks heat up.

"drink?"

"huh?" you ask slightly distracted by how intimate this is.

"drink? keep you warm." he gestures to you and then gestures to another room. you nod your head, not knowing what drink you're saying yes to but happy to be warm and experience what drinks keigo likes and drinks, it might just be tea you'll have to wait and see.

you feel a bit uncomfortable just standing around and you don't notice any chairs so you perch yourself on the bed, hoping keigo won't mind. when keigo comes back he's wearing different clothes and he's holding two mugs, you smile at him and you notice he doesn't smile back. 'did i do something wrong? he's not smiling. maybe i was wrong about him not minding about me sitting down on the bed, i should of just stayed standing up.' keigo is holding onto the mugs so tightly that his hands are turning white. "i'm really sorry keigo, i didn't mean to make you angry," you rush out as quick as you can, hurrying to get up but as you start lifting off the bed two feathers rapidly leave keigo's wings and pins you down to the bed by the top you're wearing. you've never seen him do that before so part of you is thinking about how impressive it is, the other part of you worried and confused hoping he'll forgive you for whatever accidental mistake you made.

keigo places the cups down on the side. "i'm sor-" before you can finish your sentence, he moves on top of you, making your eyes widen, at that moment you see his eyes, heavily dilated looking down at you tenderly but hungrily.

"do you like?" he asks stroking your chubby cheeks.

"like?" you ask confused.

"nest." he kisses your nose.

you're not one hundred percent sure what you're saying yes to but you think he's talking about what you're laying on and you do like it, it's warm and cosy and you could stay here for ever. "i like it very much. i could stay here forever."

keigo trills when he hears you say that, "did a good job?"

you never thought keigo would be one for seeking approval but you suppose everyone does. "amazing job." you nod your head and lift your hands up to his wings and run your hands through them making him shiver. after all that's happened you're still surprised as he gently bites your lip, a silent request for you to open your mouth and you grant him access, parting your lips, keigo taking the lead controlling the movement as your tongues intertwine and you kiss. you have no idea how much time goes by, so caught up in the moment, it could of been three minutes or thirty for all you know, all you know is how good everything feels.

as you move apart you open up your eyes to see him smirking at you, your cheeks are hot. he kisses the corner of your mouth and squeezes your plush thighs before gently trailing his knuckle up and down your inner thigh, slowly inching up your, his, top. keigo brings both his hands to your outer thighs and slivers up the rest of the top until he sees your hips, eyes practically glowing as he nuzzles your neck again.

at some point while all of this was happening he started rubbing his hard dick along your thigh, getting precum everywhere, you had no idea when was able to take off his clothes.

this time he uses his talons as he rips up your underwear leaving you bare and maybe you should be scared of how close his talons were to you but you weren't. he uses his knuckles again and brushes along your opening, he thrills when he feels how wet you are and before you even realise it he's slowly pushing himself into you. he sees you wince and kisses all along your neck and pauses for a second, then continues just as slow as he was before not wanting to hurt you. when he's fully in he waits and kisses you all over, touching all over your body, your hips and stomach especially, groping and squeezing. keigo feels you start relaxing around him and starts moving, slow thrusts in and out of you, not wanting to hurt you.

keigo's thrusts start to speed up uncontrollable as he kept feeling you clench around him and how wet you are, almost feral, animalistic. a white creamy ring forms at the bottom of his dick and he becomes more and more feral. you moan loudly and bury your head into the soft blankets and materials. "feel so good!" you cry out mumbled against the pillows. you ball your fists up into the covers, holding onto them tight and keigo goes harder.

"you feel good too. i'll keep making you feel good," he leans down to your ear and kisses your cheek. you nod your head even though it wasn't a question and keigo's eyes dilate even more than they have been. he touches you very gently, circling against your clit and kisses your pulse point, delicately sucking a mark on your neck. his pace stays the same, still fast. your back arches and you feel the coil in your stomach winding up more and more, so close to snapping. you whine as the coil in you snaps and you cum, body tight in an arch before shaking.

keigo smirks as he watches your body fall and go limp. he picks up your legs and folds you in half, gripping hold of your thighs tightly and his pace increases so fast that it leaves you breathless, your body bounces and he watches you ravenously. "gonna give you my seed, gonna make you a pretty mummy." keigo chokes a groan and holds onto you tighter. you should be trying to move away and tell him no but you don't, instead you clench tighter around him and nod your head rapidly in desire, you've never wanted something so badly. warm ropes of cum spills into you filling you up. keigo smirks and peppers your face with kisses.

"keigo have you seen how messy tsunagu's clothes are! it's a nightmare washing them all the time!" you complain scowling as you pick up your youngest sons shirt.

keigo chuckles and comes up behind you wrapping his arms around your waist, kissing you behind you ear, "he's such a troublemaker." you shiver as you feel his breath against your skin and his voice so close to you, he smirks.

it's been five years since you first stepped foot in your home, it's been five years since you and keigo first had sex. in those five years a lot has changed, your relationship included. you and keigo have no problem communicating anymore, both now speaking the same language with keigo learning how to write and read everything too. you have two boys together and they're wonderful. you got married and it was one of the happiest days of your life. you've practically abandoned human civilisation, by your own choice. occasionally you'll go into town if you need something but you stay in the forest most of the time. you've met keigo's friend and they all call him hawks, even the ones he's known since children. you asked him why he told you to call him keigo when you first met especially since everyone calls him hawks and he told you it's because he knew as soon as he met you that you were his mate and you would spend the rest of your life together.

"i know a way to calm him down." you hear the mischievous tone in his voice.

you play along, "oh?"

"i think he needs to be a big brother." he pulls you closer to him and rubs your soft stomach.

grinning wide, "really?"

keigo hums and kisses your neck. "yeah birdie, a little one he can help and look after will keep him out of trouble." he nuzzles against you and plays with your stomach. he turns you around to look at him, holding onto your hands and smirking. nonchalantly asking, "what are we aiming for this time? a girl or another boy?" he taps his finger to his chin, "i'm thinking girl."

"i'm thinking a girl too," you smile fondly and kiss his nose. keigo's wings flutter out when you kiss him and you giggle.

"i'll lock the door."