#that he must have felt this way as well. that he was bred for a purpose and when that was fulfilled he would be cast aside. idk i’m fine i

[yueebby]

𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧 – 𝐠𝐨𝐣𝐨 𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮

synopsis. period piece, forbidden love

contents. ooc, angst (eventual comfort), yandere emperor!gojo, lovesick!gojo, servant!reader, obsessive behavior (5k words of gojo pining), lowkey unreliable narrator, time skips

notes. inspired by the apothecary diaries and this post. loosely based off of ancient japan (this is basically its own world). this is the prologue to the series where everything can generally be read as a standalone ! (fic under the cut)

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emperor!gojo who broke a hundred year tradition to take you as his only lover. despite your role as a concubine, everyone in the imperial palace knew he was going to make you his empress.

emperor!gojo who had not meant to fall in love with you, but you have managed to somehow charm him. a man that single handedly brought his own clan to power– weak in your hands. hushed whispers around the imperial palace call you a witch, but they never reach your ears. not as long as he is alive.

emperor!gojo shamelessly showering you with love. he pays no mind that it is highly frowned upon, he will have his hands on you every time you are in the same room.

emperor!gojo who is livid when there is an attempt on your life. his usual ocean eyes turned to blue flames like a wild animal. servants and clan elders alike scurry under his gaze. the assailant is taken care of by his own hands. 

emperor!gojo who is forced to satiate the clan elders into submission by taking in another concubine from an influential clan. he insists to you that it is no more than a political formality. who are you to meddle into imperial affairs?

emperor!gojo who can’t help himself and ends up falling for another girl who his clan elders demand he must wed. she is much younger than you, beautiful and is well bred; a perfect match for the emperor. 

emperor!gojo whose frequent visits to you come to an end, forcing you to move from his chambers and back to the consorts’ pavilion.

There was a time when you had everything. A place to call home in the Inner Court, a beautiful palace with anything you could have ever dreamed of. Servants, admirers, riches; you had it all. But what was most dear to you was your lover– a man so divine, many thought he was directly blessed by the hand of God. It was too good to be true. A woman of lowly birth like you, paid as homage for the sins of her clan against the new reigning family of Japan, becoming a concubine of the Heavenly Emperor. 

You remembered it all too well.

His brilliant mind that once strategized the downfall of the previous imperial family, calculating its next move in a game of Go against you. You can still remember the shock on his face upon his first defeat. The way he would keep you from leaving to fulfill your other duties until he was satisfied, eyebrows furrowing as he struggled to keep up with you. No matter how hard he tried, you remained victorious. It drove him mad.

You remembered the stolen kisses while you made your rounds in the Inner Palace with your ladies in waiting. It took you quite a while to learn to tune out their giggles every time the Emperor dips you down to taste your lips in broad daylight. The grin that he wore after was enough to leave your legs weak.

Above all, you'll always remember how safe you felt in his strong, reassuring embrace. You’ve seen him train, and it was no wonder the Gojo clan rose to power so quickly as a result of one man. The way he wields the katana is unlike any man on the face of the earth. Those arms were your sanctuary. You can still vividly recall the attempt on your life, orchestrated by a traditionalist incensed by the Gojo clan's swift ascent to power. The emperor, outraged by the assassination plot, personally saw to the man's execution. 

However, the damage was done and it caused great strain in the Imperial Palace.

To appease the old geezers that were forced out of power, Emperor Gojo had taken in another concubine from one of the Big Three families of Japan— a beautiful Zenin girl. Her flowing, silky hair and saccharine voice enchanted everyone in the Inner Palace, captivating the Emperor, most of all. She was younger than you, with perkier breasts and soft skin that was enough to capture the attention of any man. 

You don’t blame her for taking the Emperor’s attention away. Though you would be a liar if you said it did not hurt you. Deep down, you cannot deny the agony that sears your soul, realizing that the only semblance of love you've ever tasted remains unrequited. With a heavy heart, you resign yourself to the bitter truth of your existence, knowing all too well the cruel confines of your place in this world.

You were merely a pawn, and the Emperor did not want you anymore.

That was made clear months later when you received a scroll from the Emperor’s advisor, a man you were once well acquainted with, Geto Suguru. 

“What is this?” You asked him quietly, your heart silently begging the Heavens it was not what you had suspected it to be. The black haired man in front of you does not respond, and you feel something pierce into your heart. Despite being a part of the Emperor’s court, it was rare that you received letters directly.

Your suspicions were confirmed when your shaky hands finally opened the scroll to read the familiar kanji written by your beloved.

“The Emperor decrees the termination of your role as concubine." Geto spares you the trouble of deciphering the characters neatly written in ink. “In his mercy, you are to be moved as a servant in the Outer Court. You are to serve the Imperial Physician.”

What you remember most was the silence. The Emperor’s silence after the stressful months you had to endure alone. The silence shared between you and Geto when you were forced out of the Imperial Court. All that was left was the sound of your heart breaking and the wood creaking underneath Geto’s feet as he walked away. Satoru never bothered to see you off.

Seasons change and by the next spring, you’re busying your hands with collecting herbs for the Imperial Physician, a man by the name of Yaga Masamichi. He is a kind man, pitying you enough to fill your days with laborious tasks to prevent your mind from wandering to thoughts of the unfortunate turn your life has taken. He is even generous enough to supply you with a new wardrobe of clothing full of light fabrics, a luxury you thought you would lose in the Outer Palace. Though the initial humiliation has worn off with the passing of time, you are still constantly reminded of your fall from grace.

Looks by the mix of condolences and disgust are shared when you roam the walls of the Outer Palace. You hear whispers of how the Emperor is infatuated with his newer, shinier toy. It is enough for you to swallow the bile that makes its way up your throat. 

“It is no wonder the Emperor tossed away a wildflower like her in exchange for a cherry blossom. He needed someone to rival his own greatness.” A particular comment stopped you in your tracks. Your grip tightens on the woven basket in your hand filled with medicinal herbs you had collected earlier that morning. 

“Have some pity on her.” Another eunuch whispers. Your breath falters, but you continue your walk with your head held up. You’ve heard the rumors. The beautiful Zenin Himiko has charmed the Emperor enough that there are rumors of a royal marriage to come. It doesn’t help that the Emperor has remained monogamous to her since he had banished you from his court.

A comforting hand links itself with your arm, “Ignore them. I saw Yaga shooing away a crowd of suitors that were lined up for your hand.” Ieiri Shoko scoffs, secretly sending you a wink. She has been studying medicine under Yaga for nearly a decade, eagerly accepting you as a companion upon your arrival. You feel your cheeks heat up at her flattery. You know she’s just trying to make you feel better.

Although your beauty never faded, it seems as though you are no longer sought after in the marriage market. Not that it matters, considering the new life that you’re living. You’re now a personal servant to the Imperial Physician, leaving no time to worry about suitors and such. Your days are filled with good work— tending to Yaga’s cherished garden that he has sowed for decades rather than frivolous games and attending the Emperor. It may not be glorious compared to your former life, but it was the best a woman of your status could receive. 

When you and Shoko return to Yaga’s estate, you’re surprised to see the somber look that has settled on his aging features. Shoko makes an offhand comment that he will age faster if he keeps scowling. She receives a scolding.

“Is something the matter?” You gently place down your basket full of herbs. 

Yaga sighs, calloused hands rolling up a scroll with the Imperial Seal. “It appears the Emperor’s consort has fallen ill and His Majesty commands my presence in the Imperial Palace.” 

The Royal Consort. The woman that dethroned you: Zenin Himiko.

“I understand.” You nod, maintaining your composure while two sets of eyes scrutinize you with keen observation. It was only natural the emperor wanted the best doctor in the country for his object of affection. “Shall I close up the shop while you journey into the Inner Palace?” 

Yaga shakes his head, “That won’t be necessary. I will have Shoko act as my stand-in.” He remarks with a quick glance in her direction “You, on the other hand, will accompany me.” 

Your eyes widen. 

“You cannot be serious.”

“Typically, one of my apprentices would accompany me on such journeys. However, now that I have acquired a personal attendant,” He gestures towards you with a flick of his hand, “It shall no longer be necessary.” As he speaks, he runs his hand absentmindedly through his well trimmed beard, gaging your reaction.

"I—" Your words falter and fade away. "Yes, sir," you respond, inclining your head in deference, a stark reminder of your place. While you may have concealed it, you were seething with humiliation. Returning to the Imperial Palace after a year of exile to serve the woman who took your spot was mortifying beyond measure.

“Very well. Pack enough for one week’s time. I doubt the Emperor would have called me if this was a light ailment.” He says gruffly. “We leave at dawn.” His gaze shifted to the horizon outside.

1 YEAR AGO

“Your Grace,” You purr at the feeling of his large hands scratching your head. 

The smile that rests on his face is almost ravenous. “Yes, my love?”

“I think—“ A soft sigh escapes your lips when he presses on your weak points. “I should g-go.”

His ministrations stop almost immediately. 

“Go?” His eyes peer down at you in his lap. It is now that you realize the weight of his piercing gaze. “Have I commanded you to leave yet?”

“No, but—”

“Then you have nowhere else to be.” He huffs, unintentionally puffing his cheeks out. You stifle the giggle that nearly escapes from your lips. He vaguely resembles a pufferfish– or so you think. Though you’ve never seen the round creature with your very own eyes, you’ve heard that the delicacy was something only members of the aristocratic class would feast on. 

Your mouth waters at the thought.

“What are you thinking about that could possibly be so important? Keep your eyes on me,” A strong hand squishes your cheeks together and firmly guides your face back upon him. 

You should be embarrassed; ashamed at the intimate position His Majesty has trapped you in. The way your head is tucked away in his lap as he peers down at you, nothing to shield you away from him. It was incredibly scandalous, considering that you were an unmarried woman! But it seemed like the Emperor had taken no mind towards it. You would even dare to say that he was enjoying it, with the way his lips quirk upward at the sight of you squirming. 

“Your Grace,” You repeat, determined to free yourself from his hold. His eyebrows furrow.

“Satoru,” He reminds you. You purse your lips. The position you hold in his court is simply not high enough to grant you the privilege of calling him by his given name.

“Your Grace,” You try again, the title rolling off of your tongue naturally. A man like him did not deserve any title less than.

“You’re breaking my heart, sweetheart. Indulge a man, won’t you?” He pouts down at you. As stubborn as ever, you don’t relent.

“I would be overstepping my boundaries as your consort to call you as such. That privilege is reserved for your future bride.” You take advantage of his guard let down to sit up and escape his hold. If he could have caught you, he made no effort.

“I am a simple man.” He follows you to your vanity. A giggle escapes your mouth. He is anything but. “I want my love to call me by my name.” 

You turn around to cup his cheek. He eagerly leans into your touch, sighing happily at the contact.

“I wonder how Lord Kento and Geto would react to you like this.” You tease, a smile unknowingly painting itself on your lips. 

Satoru’s face falls, features morphing into an appalled expression. You watch him close the distance between you through the mirror.

“Kento?” His voice had a dangerous lilt in it. You blink, unsure what spurred on the sudden tension in the room. “Since when were you so comfortable around him? He cannot satisfy you like I can.” He reminds you of the man’s castrated state as an eunuch. You wince.

“I have not gotten comfortable,” You’re careful to pick your words. Gojo’s possessiveness was something that was not easily tamed. “He simply provides good conversation while you are away.The palace is far too big and lonely while you’re away dealing with clan matters.” 

The only response you get is a quiet grumble. “You’re lucky that you’re pretty.” His large hand creeps its way into your hair again, undoing the hairstyle your ladies in waiting had spent a copious amount of time on earlier that morning. Gojo carefully plucks the extravagant silver hairpin from your hair, the dangling pearls clicking softly at the sudden movement.  His hands slowly make their way down to the kimono that you are wearing, hands ready to undo the obi.

Your hands softly hover his, “I fear that our roles have been reversed. Should it not be me who gets you unready, Your Grace?”

He chuckles and through the mirror you can see a smirk make his way to his lips, “I’d let you undress me any day. Just say the word, beloved.” 

You roll your eyes, but allow him to continue. It was moments like these with the Emperor that led you on to believe that there was a semblance of love between the two of you. 

How wrong you were.

PRESENT DAY

The sun has yet to meet the horizon when you arrive at the Inner Palace. The horse-drawn carriage that you and Yaga had taken is the only sound at the scene, clopping down the stone road and back to the Inner Court. You miss the serenity of the beautiful palace you once resided in, knowing that it will be bustling with life in just a few short hours.

In front of the large doors of the primary ceremonial hall where the Emperor spends most of his time, stands Lord Nanami, a counsellor to the Emperor himself. Time has only made his face sterner, but his neatly styled hair and blue and yellow dyed court attire remained the same. He waits patiently while you and Yaga make your way up the flight up stairs that lead up to the hall.

“I am glad to see you in good health, Yaga.” Nanami bows. 

The man next to you promptly waves his politeness off, thanking him for his hospitality. You stand silently while the two men engage in conversation regally.

Lord Nanami sighs, “His Majesty has been plagued by stress lately. To say I am relieved by your presence would be an understatement.” His statement is a subtle reminder that you must harden your heart upon entering the palace walls. The meticulously built walls were no longer a sanctuary for you, rather, a painful testament that you were no longer wanted. 

Yaga lets out a hearty laugh and it reveals a rare sight, Lord Nanami’s lips curving upwards by a slight. “I highly doubt the boy would be glad to see me. The appearance of the Imperial Physician is portentous.” He scratches his beard. You tilt your head in confusion at how he referred to the Emperor.

“I suppose, yet I am intrigued to find out how he will react upon seeing his object of affection flourishing anew despite the sting of frost.” Nanami audibly wonders. Even a fool could understand his eloquent comparison. The Emperor would be thrilled to see his consort in full bloom once again. You pray that the Heavens would grant you some mercy from witnessing such a scene.

“Youth,” Yaga shakes his head, chuckling to himself before regaining composure. “I mustn't keep the Emperor waiting. [Name], please gather the herbal ingredients to treat the young Consort as you seem fit. I shall confer with His Majesty and meet you in her chambers to declare a proper diagnosis.”

You bow, “Yes sir.”

While Yaga prepares to enter the doors where The Heavenly Emperor resides, your eyes couldn’t help but gaze longingly at the large bronze doors. 

“You seem well,” Nanami addresses you for the first time in over a year. Your eyes trail from the Emperor’s door to the blonde man in front of you. “Allow me to guide you to our herbal stock.” Nanami offers you his arm as you start to make your way down the stairs. 

You take it, lightly holding his arm.  “Thank you, Lord Nanami. Time away from the Inner Palace has been like a breath of fresh air,” You respond, ensuring your voice carries no malice. You hear the large palace doors from behind you open, the metal creaking loudly in the quiet dawn. 

“I must ask you to call me Kento,” He leads you down the stone steps. “We are old friends, it is strange to hear anything but.” 

You focus on your steps down the stairs, only responding once your feet meet the solid ground, “I fear that our social statuses have changed since then. It would be the cause of a scandal should anyone hear I am calling the Imperial Counselor by his given name. Your admirers would have my head on a stick.”

“Your imagination is amusing as always, [Name].” He gives you a closed eyes smile. You huff.

“I am only speaking the truth!” You insist. He chuckles.

“It is quite refreshing to see both you and Yaga again. I’m not sure how long it has been since I have been at the imperial physician.” 

You gape at his confession. “You mustn't skip your annual visits to the physician, Kento. It is in the best interest of your health!” You lightly scold him, lifting your hand to flick his forehead. It was a force of habit. “Perhaps if I have time after treating the Consort, I shall do a check up on you.”

Nanami clears his throat at your comment, the twinkle in his eyes dissipating as if your direct touch had burned him. 

“I would rather not lose my head.” He mumbles, eyes scanning the courtyard around the two of you. You knit your eyebrows, confused.

Nanami leaves you to fulfill his duties once you arrive at the Royal Kitchens to retrieve all the necessary items to treat Consort Himiko. You are glad that he did not accompany you into the kitchens to prepare Consort Himiko’s herbal soup. 

The memory of it still irks you.

“You’re late,” One of Consort Himiko’s ladies in waiting snaps just as you enter the kitchen. You look up to see a young girl, dressed in a light purple kimono. It must be Himiko’s signature, you note. It was strange to see someone outside of the Imperial family donning the color, but you suppose it was only a grand display of Himiko’s influence.

“You’re a lot more plain than I anticipated,” The other lady in waiting quirks an eyebrow, eyeing your appearance. You furrow your eyebrows, shocked by their rudeness.Their undying loyalty to their Lady was enough to fuel an unspoken hatred for you. Though you’re not sure that the two coincide, you don’t blame them.

The two are mixing a concoction that you don’t recognize to be used to treat the sick. The taller one adds some aromatics and herbs in and you see the other one unwrap a cloth to reveal a rare delicacy from the West. Cocoa, you believed they called it. 

Then it hits you– the two are not making a medicinal soup for their Lady, rather they are making an aphrodisiac! The image that conjures in your head makes you blanch. Back in the Outer Palace, Shoko had shown you the effects of the stimulant (you shiver at the memory of her shoving a treat laced with it into your mouth). It was certainly a night to remember.

“How pathetic,” You mutter underneath your breath, quickly rushing to obtain the ingredients you needed without making conversation with the two girls.

Fortunately, they pay you no further attention for the time you’re in the kitchen.

“Please excuse me,” You bow upon entering the Emperor’s chambers. Despite the Consort’s Pavilion being similar in size to a small town, you remember spending most of your time in the Emperor’s chambers rather than your own. It was probably the same case with Consort Himiko. You slowly place the tray carrying broth and medicinal herbs to treat the Consort down on the circular wooden table in the middle of the room.

Out of curiosity, your eyes can’t help but soak in the Emperor’s room. Not much has changed since you’ve left. His Majesty’s preference for minimalist decorations have stayed the same, along with his natural musk that fills your nose. You feel your face heat up at your own thoughts. How could you think of such a thing when you are about to meet his new lover?

Your gaze moves to his bed, where Consort Himiko resides– only to find nothing.

“Huh?” 

You observe his bed, silk sheets neatly made, seemingly untouched. The sounds of your sock clad feet patter on the wooden floor as you make your way to feel the bedsheets for any signs of warmth, but you are met with nothing.

“Don’t you know that entering the Emperor’s chambers can be punishable by death?” A deep voice from behind you causes you to jump in your spot. 

Your guard is immediately raised, head whipping to the sound. In hindsight, you should have never agreed to accompany Yaga on his trip. It was a foolish idea all along, you think as all of the air in your lungs dissipates upon seeing your former lover. 

Standing at the entrance of his own sleeping quarters is Gojo Satoru, his frame big enough to tower over the doorway. His arms are crossed over each other, electric blue eyes focused on nothing else but you. You press your thighs together tightly to avoid squirming anymore than you are.  He has loosened his dark blue kimono to expose some of his hardened chest, a sight any woman in the nation would die to catch a glimpse.  Even underneath all of the fabric, anyone can see his divinely sculpted physique.

“Your Grace,” You waste no time to dip your body deeply, praying that he will allow you to keep your head by sunset. “I apologize for the intrusion, I was under the pretense that Consort Himiko resided in your quarters–” Your voice loses itself in your throat when you see his shadow quickly encroaching.

“Himiko stays in her Pavilion,” He towers over you, eyes gazing down on you. “But one might suspect that you already knew that.”

Your eyes frantically meet his feet, desperate to salvage what was left of your dignity, “I assure you that I speak of the truth, Your Majesty.”

When he doesn’t respond, you slowly lift your head.

The flustered look on your face must have been amusing to him, as he makes his way closer to you, bending down to interrogate you further.

“Is that so?” He hums, enjoying every second of cornering you into his chambers. The back of your legs have met his bed, trapping you. You inhale sharply, trying to keep your breaths even, refusing to give him the satisfaction of knowing the effect he had on you.

He continues, “You’re awfully skittish for someone who was happily skipping around my territory in the arms of another man just earlier.” His predatory gaze seems to darken. 

“Kento?” When his name leaves your lips, the man in front of you grits his teeth. You turn your head to the side, deliberately avoiding him. “With all due respect, Your Majesty, but I don’t see how Kento and I’s relationship is any of your concern,” He does not take your actions well, his gaze searing into you.

“It certainly is when the woman in question is you,” Gojo’s voice loses its feral lilt, distress flashing across his face. There’s a newfound desperation in it that chips away at your resolve. His hand raises to your face so slowly, as if he did not want to startle you.

“This is wrong. I– I saw a couple of servants earlier making aphrodisiacs, perhaps you could have unknowingly consumed them.” You tell him, frantic eyes meeting him. It is not unusual for couples to use aphrodisiacs, you know that after under Yaga. The Emperor must have mistaken the laced dessert for his usual. 

He shakes his head, running a hand through his white hair.

“You are mistaken. This is solely your effect on me.” He promises. You could barely believe his words, stuck between feeling offended or shocked.

“How could you stand to be so cruel?” Your voice is barely above a whisper. There are no tears in your eyes this time.  “I am not a courtesan you can buy for the night,” You snap, pointing a harsh finger to his chest. 

“What do you mean?” He sounds breathless.

“Whatever do I mean?” You scoff, a dry laugh escaping your mouth. “For a year, all I have gotten is pity from the world, because you decided I was no longer entertaining. You could have at least banished me away yourself. Instead, you sent Suguru who couldn’t even look me in the eye! Don’t you know how humiliating that is?” With every word that left your lips, more venom seemed to drip. Anger was prickling you all over, taking control of the rational part of you.

Gojo seemed to be taken aback by your outburst. It was far too late to take anything back now. If you lose your head by nightfall, so be it.

You dig a deeper grave for yourself when you take advantage of his moment of weakness to flee. He’s quick to react, attempting to grip your wrist.

“Wait, [Name], beloved–” He uses that all too familiar term of endearment, but it doesn't deter you.

You accidentally bump into the circular wooden table placed in the middle of the room. What an awful place to keep it, watching in horror as the Consort’s medicine shatters on the floor. To add salt to the wound, a vase you recognize to be specially gifted to the Emperor from a foreign nation tips off too before you can catch it. The sound of porcelain shattering fills the room.

“[Name]! Are you alright?” You hear Gojo ask from behind you, but you run over the broken shards before he can catch you.

Had you bothered to pay closer attention, you would have noticed articles of your clothing and a couple of your missing belongings littered all over the room– creating a faux impression that you never really left the palace.

Days passed by after the incident, and luckily, your head was still attached to your body despite offending and nearly endangering the Emperor. Yaga’s disappointment when you had told him what happened was made evident when he sent you home early after hearing the events that transpired, insisting that he can handle the Consort on his own. Normally you would have argued, but you knew better than to inflict Yaga’s wrath.

“Now you’ve really done it,” Shoko whistles lowly, walking in from the front of Yaga’s shop. 

You hide your face in your hands, “I made an absolute fool of myself, didn’t I?”

“A fool? No. A conspirator against the Emperor? Perhaps.” She dangles a scroll with a familiar seal on it. The Gojo Clan’s familiar emblem reflects off of the sunlight spilling into the room. Your heart drops.

“Oh, they’ll have my head.” You moan, hands instinctively lifting to shield your neck.

“Though I’m quite impressed that Yaga only sent you back here. He used to have worse punishments.” She shudders before impatiently unraveling the scroll. You watch her eyes gradually widen as they read the contents of the letter. The scroll falls from her hand.

You rush to it, desperate to read your fate.

To [Last Name] [First Name],

Greetings and prosperity unto you.

By the mandate of the heavens and the authority vested in Us, We hereby extend Our solemn words to you, [Last Name] [First Name], servant of the realm, in acknowledgement of your debt to the Empire.

In response to your unmeritorious deeds, The Emperor bestows upon you His imperial pardon from capital punishment. In consideration of your obligations and the harmony of the realm, it is hereby decreed that you shall serve as an indentured servant to the Imperial Household for a period commensurate with your debt. During this time, you shall labor faithfully and diligently under the supervision of Our Heavenly Emperor, performing duties essential to the welfare of the Empire.

By fulfilling your obligations with diligence and humility, you may yet earn favor and esteem in Our sight.

The Imperial Court

A loud gasp escapes your mouth.

You feel your legs weaken, your emotions running wild. Shoko’s eyes meet yours, mirroring your frantic gaze. In that moment, you are met with the same suffocating sense of hopelessness.

extra!

gojo was kicking his feet happily as he watched suguru draft out his letter to you. suguru thought it rather cruel, while the white haired male was too busy purring happily as he fantasized about having you back into his grasp.

[yanderenightmare]

♡ TW: noncon, gangbang, elf-reader, orc captors, racism between orcs and elves, captive reader, enslavement, piss drinking, mindbreak, mentioned toe-sucking and rimming, navigating cultural differences

♡ FEM reader

♡ P1: THE PILLORY

The orc bandits sold your fellow elves off like slaves, but the commander ended up saving you for himself.

You’d been out of it throughout the ordeal. Already with the feeling of being numb, dumb, and tingly from the top of your crown down to the tips of your toes, you’d soon been overcome with fever as if taken by sickness—or withdrawal. Kept warm in the lap of your captor, you could barely keep your eyes open and must have passed out again—all to the sound of your troop's despair as they were bid on individually and dragged off by different buyers, all adorned collars and chains.

When you woke up again, whatever had you so enthralled and pliant was gone, leaving you feeling much like those times you’d woken from drinking more than your limit—along with a sore ache spanning your entire body, leaving you bedridden.  

Lying there, on a massive fur pelt in a fire-heated tent with a pair of shackles upon your ankles, you decide against your former poor judgment of making demands—this time, staying still and deadly silent, causing no fuss and voicing no complaint in petrified fear of the heavyweight resting at your back, breathing soundly like a beast in hibernation.

You still don’t understand what happened—still don’t understand what got into you—why did you act that way? It was as if you’d completely lost your mind—hijacked by something unholy and depraved—something vile. You’d been possessed—you must have been! To be bred by those monsters, swallow their semen—drink their piss. Thinking about it, the shock of it all cancels out the disgust. How could you have done all that? Sure, you were forced, but you could swear… somewhere halfway through, you started to enjoy it.

“Why so quiet, elf-pet?”

He must have felt the shift in your breathing. Beasts of war sleep with one eye open, after all. Still, you don’t answer—you don’t move a muscle. Stiff and lifeless, you remain, even as his hand—the one dwarfing your hip—slides south.

"Afraid to wake me?"

You just swallow thickly with a whimper as his thick orc finger, weathered by labor and battle, pets your naked sex, rubbing your clit before splitting the lips and playing with the poorly treated hole beneath it.

“Where’d all that fight go, hm?” he rumbles at your stillness, amused by it as he prods your entrance and pulls your bottom against his bulge. “Don’t tell me I fucked it all gone…” 

All you do is quake and tremor, even as his digit breaks through and starts prepping you—slipping in and out slowly, drawing slick as if your cunt was already trained to do so.

His pleased hum rumbles at your back, wreaking your bones—making you feel fickle like a sprout.

“Elves make such good pets once you tame them,” he states, chuckling. “You love cock and cum so much it makes you dumb—a single taste of it and even the priggish of elves like you turn into filthy little whores hungry for more.” 

You feel him fatten behind you—clenching your thighs as it swells up against your rear. 

His arm, the one beneath your head you’d been resting on like a pillow, coils around your neck and pulls you back snugly against him. 

“Don’t worry, elf-pet—” he grins, teeth by your ear in heated words, “I’ll keep feeding you good and full.”

And that's how it goes. Anytime you sober up, he fucks you silly—well and truly silly—silly in the way it makes you indiscriminately slurp his cum off the ground and suck his toes and lick his ass and squeal with joy as he swarms your womb with piss, “Ah feels so nice and warm inside—I love being master’s piss-bucket! Thank you!”

It’s been that way for months now.

He’s taken to calling you Putty because of how dumb and malleable you’ve become, eager to do anything he says, just to please. It disgusted you in the beginning, but you’ve since learned to accept the weakness of your nature—if only for the sake of survival and your own sanity. 

There’s no point in beating yourself up about it—not in this godforsaken part of the world where everyone seems out to do it for you.

You’d known orcs were soulless creatures, but truly, nothing could have prepared you for their level of depravity. If you could, you’d stay hidden inside the tent and never expose yourself to the horrors outside—already sated with those you have to endure within its thin drapes. But unfortunately, your master enjoys bringing you with him wherever he goes. 

Many orcs do, you’ve come to understand. They like parading their slaves, mostly fae-folk like you, around—all dressed skimpily, all with collars—nymphs and fairies often with their wings clipped and elves with their heads shaved in shame. 

Today, you’re out walking the market—you, with your leash on, and him, with his fist tugging it close behind him. 

He’s looking at weapons and armor for the most part and the odd toy or article for you. He likes keeping you pretty, in jewelry and sheer silks that let everyone admire what he has warming his bed. 

Since becoming his slave, he’s taken you to get plenty of piercings and markings. You can’t read their scripture, but he’s told you what he’s marked on your pretty skin several times. His name, of which you’re not allowed to speak, paired with his title as your direct master, as well as his guild’s seal, stating their ownership of you—all in three intricate patterns down your right arm. So, even if you ever do get home, you’ll never be able to wash him off. Another train of patterns on your left arm shows your status as a slave and your worth if anyone but your master were to damage or kill you accidentally.

For all their cruelty—you’re surprised by their level of organization. Though you don’t agree with it, you can at least admit that what they have is some variation of civilization—as supremacist as it is. But then again, elves are much the same—always thinking themselves better than everything, even other groups of fae.

It’s funny, but in a way, you’re almost convinced this is divine justice—the gods punishing you for your false sense of superiority by forcing you to live your life in suffering as an orc’s slave. 

It’s a trial—your last chance at redemption before death. Fulfill it, and heaven will be waiting for you with open arms. Yes, that must be it. 

The crowd becomes thicker near the end of the market street. It seems there’s an ongoing roadside show that many are keen on watching. You hear the jeers and hollers, the oos and ahs, and coming out empty-handed from the market trip, it seems the commotion is enough to pique your master’s interest enough to make him battle his way through to the front with you in toe just behind him—paying no mind to how members of the crowd paw at you. 

One is even so brazen to spit on your chest. But it comes as no shock—nor does your master’s indifference. In orc culture, all orcs are masters and can do what they want to any and all slaves with respect to their direct master. In fact, it’s not uncommon to see masters chain their slaves up like mutts in the street—free for all to have a go.

Actually, you can bet that’s what gathered this flock.

And sure enough, you’re spot on. 

Three fellow fae are on display up on the stage, naked and drenched in cum and sweat and other fluids—all made fully dumb by it.

You’ve theorized why over the months of being subjected to it and could only come up with one sound theory to explain it. Orc fluids must contain strong aphrodisiac properties, maybe even other substances that make their victims so agreeable—a type of natural incentive, possibly to make breeding more plausible and easy for a race so ugly. 

Yes, that must be it. It’s the only thing that could make any sense of the heart-eyes and love-cries you witness on all your otherwise dignified fellow fae.

One of them is folded between two orcs, desperately sucking on one of their tongues with her eyes closed in bliss, taking both their cocks in both her holes. It’s hard feeling sorry for her when she looks so happy, but you know the situation yourself—it’s like your mind’s been replaced by a fluffy cloud, and all you can think to wish for is to be taken higher.

Another girl is on her knees, ass up and head down—with a heavy foot placed on top of her cheek, squishing her pretty face against the wooden stage—tongue out and eyes crossed as he fucks her sloppy cunt with his whole entire fist. The poor girl is so mindbroken she just giggles with a smile, thighs shivering in delight as she squirts out a puddle beneath her.

The last girl is placed on her back on a beam—ankles suspended in the air, tied tightly to two poles—arms tied together under the bench. She’s also got two of them having their fun with her—one in each end in a spitroast. 

You’ve been in her position once—shared like a piece of meat—stuffed overfull with no freedom to spare. You wonder if she’d spoken out of place, too.

The orc by her head tugs his cock in his fist, standing over her head, letting her lick the sweat off his balls before dropping his length on her chest, bunching her tits and fucking through them with a groan, letting his balls swing and drag over her pretty face. But it’s not long before he steps back and puts his shaft to her lips, holding her throat in a light grip as she sweetly teases his dickhole with the tip of her tongue. When he gives her a firmer squeeze, she obediently widens her mouth, gaping to receive the head.

The girl holds it in her mouth like you do for your master, trying your best to suck but only ever managing to drool around it like a roasted pig with an apple between its teeth. Oh, but then something impossible happens.

You swear it’s like watching a circus act—you look on in horror and awe—unable to grasp it as more of the orc’s meaty member disappears down the girl’s swallow—one girthy inch at a time. You watch her throat swell, eyes wide in disbelief as her pipe blows out to accommodate the size, letting it sink inside all the way through down to the hilt.

The audience whistle and shout at her performance—all impressed as the two orcs fuck her on time with each other—out, then all the way in. And honestly, you’re one of them. Blinking at the display, you can barely trust your eyes—the two cocks must be kissing each other's tips inside her.

“What good whores,” your master mumbles at your side, swinging you against his chest with a grip on your jaw, making you face the scene. 

“You see that, Putty,” he gruffs and points at the one you’d already been watching, wide-eyed and drop-jawed. “One day soon, you’re gonna be just like that.”

You dont know why, but watching the filthy scene makes your gut gurgle. How can you be hungry at a time like this?

“A perfect throat-sleeve for me. So deep, I can finally touch your guts from both ends and fill your belly just how you like.”

♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Kirishima, Shigaraki, Enji, AFO ♡ JJK – Sukuna, Toji, Kenjaku ♡ HxH – Uvogin

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[s3thwrit3sstuff]

❝ That heavy breathin' on the floor ❞

Vander x ftm!reader | Sevika x ftm!reader (customer) | Silco x ftm!reader | fluffy, NSFW, angst | reader has had top-surgery & bottom growth | versatile. bottom. reader | NOT PROOFREAD + partly written on my phone | wc: 17k

warnings: violence against a sw, police brutality, r! is nearly assaulted but is saved, r! is a prostitute, brothel mentioned, mentions of addiction, spanking, fingering, anal sex, unprotected sex, strap-on, minor daddy kink (sevika), pussy-eating, choking, slapping, AFAB terminology (clit referred to as dick/cock, terms like boypussy, pussy, boycunt, cunt are used), murder, graphic depictions of violence

masterlist; pt. 1; pt. 2

authors note: this kind of gets a bit heavy at the end with themes of injustices against s*x workers along side police brutality and r! nearly getting assaulted by a haughty rich dude from Piltover. If its it's too heavy, please prioritize yourself ! *song on repeat: Billie Boss Nova by Billie Eilish *YN is described as being shorter than Vander (202cm), Sevika (185cm), and Silco (182cm) in this fic.

"So, how'd you decide this career was the best course of action in your life?" your lips twitch at the question. Well, less of the question and more of the person asking; there was an accent these Topsiders have. Dripping with condescension and haughtiness. It was like they were bred to have their noses pointed up, as if there was some sort of treasure up those pin-holes.

"You're asking for my life story?" you drawl, watching as his hands crawl up your thighs. They were splotchy with age spots, but plumper than the old timers from here. Figures. You split your legs for him and he wets his lips. "You get off on that sort of things?" you throw an arched brow his way, a look he dismisses with a wanton grope of your unclothed cunt.

"If I say I do, you'd have to indulge, correct?"

Even the way he asks his questions felt like he was talking down to you.

You hated events like these. The brothel hosted them for the handful of clients who could afford to rent out a whole floor for themselves, usually they were sleazy Topsiders with their stupid little kids who'd come of age.

Easier to pop all sorts of cherries in the underbelly of Piltover because 'they'd do just about anything for some coin!'

You take a long drag of your hookah while the old fuck grinds his palm to your dick. It's strange how soft his hands are. You're used to callouses, palms that strike with power behind them and grips that bruises. This was pathetic.

"My dad bailed on my mom before he knew I was even conceived," his eyes glimmer with morbid curiosity. He rubs his hands up and down, a tepid rhythm that sincerely lacks in any semblance of pleasure. "My poor, young, dumb, mother. She tried really, really, really hard." "Did she?"

You nod, looking off at the floor where a whore was sucking off another Topsider; laid on her belly between his legs on the cushions and duvets. The theme of this event had been some dumbass ancient civilization. With white toga's and golden wreaths some of their kids spent a week working on.

"She worked her ass off. Determined to make life worth living for me."

"Did she work...here?"

There it was. That sick fascination. He didn't even know if this story was real, you could be bullshitting him but it doesn't matter. As he strokes your cock, his eyes gleam with a cruelty that only men of his status could possess. Pain was a fetish; it was a welcomed one even. But this? This fetish that he has, of listening to sob stories and fulfilling his torture fantasy. Did he think he was better than a sexual sadist because his hands were soft and wimpy?

He must. Perhaps he even thinks this line of questioning elevates him from your usual customers. Makes this all feel more 'ethical'.

It was funny seeing a predator file their teeth down into shiny sparkling stubs (his veneers were blinding) but forget they still had claws. Your lips curl away from your teeth, in disgust and rising anger.

Then Doe appears in front of you. Her hands stroking up your thighs as she blocks the Topsider's face from yours. The twitch in your brow is hidden behind your mask, but the corners of your mouth twist in confusion. She slips her fingers into his hold, giggling as he greets her.

"Mr. Erikson," she returns the flirting he dishes out, slipping his finger under the strap of her toga and tugging it down. When she brushes her hair over her shoulder, she gives you a pointed expression.

Calm the fuck down, was written all over her face. When she flits her eyes to your trembling hand, you loosen your grip on the hookah and click your teeth. She climbs smoothly onto that old fuck's lap, distracting him with her perky tits while you walk away.

The beaded curtains rattle angrily as you sulk past the threshold. Glaring at every privileged little fuck there on your way out of the hall. When a blonde man tried to grasp at your wrist you tug it away with a snarl. Fucking Topsiders. Going to the Undercity to get their dicks wet, maybe even delude some poor shit into thinking that they could be more. As if they'd ever marry anyone from here, or claim the children they fathered.

Because that's what Topsiders do. They take. All they know to do is take and take and take with no regard nor care —

A hand grabs at your wrist, harshly tugging you back and when you spin you grab the brooch at your shoulder and unclasp it to press the point to Sevika's neck. Your eyes widens and she lets out a low whistle.

"Hello to you too."

"Fuck, Sevika," you hastily bring your 'weapon' down, mindlessly clipping it to the golden make-shift rope-belt at your hip. She lets your wrist go while you lean in to make sure you hadn't actually drawn blood.

"Don't just grab me like that," you chastise. She takes notice of your get-up then glances towards the muffled noises of the hall behind you. "You finished in there?" she asks.

You should tell her no. You'd been asked for by name from the Topsiders, having done well at a previous party like this.

"Yeah. You want me for the night?" she shifts the tooth pick to the other side of her grin, reaching another hand to tug you in by your waist. "C'mon baby, say it nicely."

Sevika tilts her head, her rough hands making your lashes tremble. Both of her hands grab firmly at your ass, hitching you up and close. Her firm body, the scent of smoke and ash and alcohol easing you down as they mingle with Sevika's naturally smoky cologne. Judging from the bag of coin she has hidden in her jacket — that you can feel from under your hand — she was most likely in a good mood from winning a game.

"Say it sweet, how'd you'd ask those Topsiders to fuck you?" she's just getting a rise out of you. It wasn't a secret to Sevika that you despised the Topsiders. Even if you never ranted to her about it, every time they walked into the establishment your mask could barely keep your expression of dismay at bay.

You narrow your eyes at her. Smoothly slipping a hand into her jacket and taking the bag of coins out and holding it out of her reach when she tries to grab it.

"You think you deserve to fuck me?" you play along with her game. Leaning your face in to hers, your mask brushing her cheek. "Little limp dicks like you can barely make me hard, much less cum." Sevika's grip is bruising. The fabric of your toga nearly giving away to her harshness. Sevika was going to fuck you just the way you needed. Fast and hard; a true Zaunite in every way.

Your mask had been tossed aside, most likely on the floor of your room somewhere. The spray-painted golden wreaths, brooch, and belt were safely placed onto one of the dressers. The toga did not get that much grace though. Having been ripped away from your body as Sevika spun you around to pin you down on your stomach at the edge of the semi-circle bed.

"Sevika!" you exclaim in genuine alarm. She can still hear the smile in your voice so she just stares at the cloth material in her hands and breathes out a laugh. It lands next to you while she takes off her cloak.

"That cost money?" she questions mindlessly. You turn over on your back, staring up at her, stark naked. She'd spit out the toothpick before she smashed your lips together up the stairs, yet somehow she's found a cigarette to put between her teeth.

"Yeah," you replied in a matter-of-fact tone, reaching up to your nightstand to grab your box of matches. Striking one to light. She leans over you, her rough hands feeling up your split thighs and you light up her cigarette for her.

"I bought the damn fabric." "Cheap fabric," she replies as she pulls climbs on the bed. Her clothed body pressed against yours.

"Or maybe you're just freakishly strong," you retort with a huff.

"I'll pay extra," she laughs when you raise your brows.

Whores. So easy.

"Fuck, Sevika." She strokes your dick with her fingers which makes your breath hitch. "Yuh - You're gonna...You have to slow down."

"I know you can take more than this." You scowl at her, she just presses down on your poor dick. "I'm talking about gambling, dumbass. You're getting the extra coin from it, aren't you?"

She rolls her eyes, grabbing you face in her other hand and smushing your cheeks — involuntarily making your lips purse out like a fish while she stares down at you. The white smoke slithering up into the air making her grey eyes shine like a vengeful spirit.

"You don't want me here spoiling your ass?" she says gruffly, her fingers now slipping down to your winking hole and smearing your slick over it. "Who else is gonna remind this hole how rough you need it?"

Your eyes soften. She can see your resolve melt as she slips a finger inside of you, she groans just as your brows twitch and knit together. Anal was Sevika's wheelhouse. She always made your entire body shiver and shake when she gets in the mood to fuck you as if you were nothing but her personal flesh light.

"Fuh - fuck you," you hiss out. She knows you don't mean it. Because your customer's moods was your own wheelhouse. You know how they like to play, how much chase they want, how much biting they love. It's why your roster of clients were oddly attached to your fox mask.

She brings her hand to your neck and watch as your back arches of the bed as she fingerfucks your ass while she has her thumb inside of your cunt. Her cigarette was beginning to burn too much and when the ashes drop onto your thigh, you squeak in alarm but don't tell her to stop. So she simply doesn't.

Sevika occasionally slips her fingers back inside of your cunt to gather more lube and you only give her a whine of displeasure.

"You're fine," she reassures, "I'm the first Jane of the night, right?"

When you give her a quizzical look she laughs.

"Your ass is way too tight. Either I'm the first of the night or there's some micro dicks at that party."

"You're way too fuckin' cocky, you know that?"

When Sevika has you fully stretched out, she gives you a moment to catch your breath. Watching your chest raise and fall as you're splayed out on the bed whilst she takes off her clothes and grabs at the cloak and bag she dropped on the ground. Your thighs were wet from your own slick and the lube she'd fished out from your drawers, you watch her move when you lift your arm away from your face.

She's putting on her strap. Just the sight of it has both of your holes clenching. Sevika smushes the cigarette in an ash tray and whistles, twisting her wrist to point down and you hate how much your stomach flutters at the casual dominance. You get on your hands and knees, face pressed to the bed. She grabs the globes of your ass, stroking her dick in the other hand.

"...Are you waiting for me to beg?" you wonder after a moment.

"Might be nice to hear." Your laughter makes her grin. Not that you could see it. You take a few breaths, then look at her from over your shoulder.

"C'mon, daddy. Fuck me." You whine out. Sevika stares on. Unimpressed. You curl your lip, twisting your upper half a bit further to stare back.

"That's a classic."

"I've heard better."

"Hah! From who? Doe?" you fully lay on your side now, smirking as you look up at her. "You're real sweet on her, huh?"

When Sevika grunts, you throw your head back to laugh. She grabs at your ankles but you kick her efforts away and drag yourself further up the bed. She calls out your name flatly but you just giggle.

"You are," you purr. "Thought you said falling for whores are for chumps."

Sevika narrows her eyes, grabbing at your calf and tugging you back down. You squeal, still smiling even when she grabs your ripped toga to tie your wrists together and pull it between your legs as she bends them so far forward your knees are nearly touching your chest.

"Struck a nerve, daddy?" you challenge. Her dick catches on the rim of your asshole, pressing but not breaching.

"You're such a fucking brat. Just a fiend for this kind of shit, huh? Like it rough?"

The thick head of it presses in and you groan. The noise airy — as if she'd knocked it out of you by simply pressing in despite the resistance.

"Your wolfman fuck you like this too?"

You make a noise. Half-squeak and half-gasp, brows furrowing and jumping in alarm when she just slams in more than half of her cock inside.

"Fuck!"

"He fucks your ass like this?"

She readjusts her stance, the bed creaking as she keeps your body at her complete mercy. Pinned under her frame, hands tied up and pulled by her strength while her thick cock is intently filling your ass up. The position makes her hit all the right spots, and you want nothing more than to drown in the overwhelmingly delicious pressure she's pulling you into. But her questions has caught you completely off guard.

"Sevika," you moan out, pushing at her waist with your weak fingers, trying to relieve some of the pleasure. She slopes her brows in faux concern.

"Yeah, you're sweet on him, aren't ya'?"

She slides into you some more, the veins on her cock making your toes curl as your hole clenches around her. She groans as though she can feel it. And you toss your head back.

"You're fucking huge," you whine out.

"Is he bigger or smaller?"

You roll your eyes at her and she smirks. She inches back a few then just drops all her weight down. The moan you let out is nonexistent, mouth opened in a silent scream as your back arches and your vision goes white.

"He make you feel that good?" You suck in a quick breath, as if remembering you could but she doesn't let up.

"I definitely touched something there, huh?"

She starts thrusting. Shallow but quick, just pistoning in and out of your poor ass while your cunt weeps out for a sliver of attention. She ignores it all in favour of waiting for you to flutter your pretty eyes open.

"Duh - daddy," you hiccup out and she just pulls your tied hands out from between your thighs to instead pin above your head.

"S'little too late to act nice, sweet cheeks." You mewl, hips bucking as she continues her onslaught. "Daddy, plea - ah!" The smack of her palm against your ass has your entire body jolting.

"It's a yes or no, baby."

Tears darken your lashes, you bring your hand to her face and use any bit of core strength you have to press your lips with hers but she simply pushes your face down. Not by your neck. No. She's intentionally cruel as she has the space between her thumb and pointer right under the top row of your teeth.

As she thrusts out moan after moan, all you can do is let her hear it. It's humiliating. The noises you make are all choked up, saliva is beginning to pool from the corners of your mouth. No matter how much you thrash or push or try to buck, she just continues to rail you.

You know Sevika would stop if you tapped at her four times in a row. It was something the both of you had long established as a non-verbal safe-word when there's a craving for something harder.

She knows you know how to stop her if you need to. You don't. So she ploughs into you, groaning as she watches you struggle.

"C'mon baby, that's it." She's purring, sweat beading down her face as her hair comes undone. She's a vision like this. Her strong arms flexing under the low lights, her firm stomach clenched as though you were truly milking her cock. It makes you a bit delirious, especially when she's chewing on her lower lip and looking down at you like this.

"Cum around my cock. Like a proper bitch," you groan, knowing she's close from the way her grip on you tightens.

You're feeling the building pressure finally reaching its peak and you bite down on her hand, glaring at her as you moan around her flesh. She just smiles, wide and proud. A true predator.

Her teeth sharp just like her claws.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as you feel your cunt pathetically squirt, the wetness just urging Sevika on as she forces you to bite down harder.

"You alright?"

Vander's voice feels like an ice pack against bruised skin. An apt metaphor considering he was putting an ice pack to your bruised ass.

"Mmm," he chuckled at your muffled response. After Sevika and you got scolded by your madame, you sought refuge at The Last Drop. Of course, Sevika simply thought you wanted a drink and you had. You hung around her side until she got swept up into a game of poker and slipped away to the back. All under Vander’s watchful eye.

He had grabbed an ice pack just as you slipped through the back, tapping another bartender’s shoulder to take over while he went upstairs. Which is where he found you. In his bedroom, shimmying out of your outfit and looking at him with those pleading eyes.

“You’re off early,” he kneaded at the back of your thighs, watching as your muscles jumped and twitched. “You tapped out?”

He sounds rightfully surprised. You’re not the type to just get off work early because of a bruised ass. You’re tougher than most of everyone here. You stare at him, face smushed against your crossed arms. He reaches to brush some hair away, and you melt further on his mattress.

“Darling?” you frown but finally confess. “I ran away from some dumbass party that the madame was hosting for some Topsider fucks.”

“You thought I’d be angry knowin’ that?” Vander arches a brow. Laying down next to you, trusting that The Last Drop could handle just a few more minutes without him. “You’re allowed to be angry at them. Shits bloody unfair.”

You get on your elbows, placing your chin in your palm while he looks down at you.

“Aren’t you angry at them?” you watch his expression shift. It’s a barely noticeable twitch, really it could be written off as a muscle spasm if anything.

“Aren’t you tired of being angry at them?” you continued.

“I put those dreams on the shelf a long time ago,” he attempts to soothe you by cupping your face. It works, just barely, but you lean into his warmth. “I’ve got too much to lose. This place, the kids.” He pauses and brushed his thumb across your cheek, his pinkie tilting your head up.

“You.”

The comfortable silence washes over. You take a breath and sigh, nuzzling into his large palm. The sweet act has him smiling, glad you drop the topic and using his strength to pull you to lay on his front.

“Sorry, I’m a little dirty.”

“Mm, I like you dirty.”

He laughs. The action jostling you a bit but you simply wrap your arms around his neck while he holds you firm.

“You could just work here.” He runs his hand down your back, kneading his thumbs in at a few knots. You groan into his ear, shaking your head. “You dunno’ what you’re sayin’”

“I’m serious,” he adjusts the ice pack and you shiver a bit as the its sweat drips down between your thighs. “Bar could always use a nicer face than mines.”

“Derek’s pretty enough.” Vander laughs. It rumbles in his throat this time and you grin just hearing it.

“B’sides, you’re plenty handsome.”

“Yeah, but not one of us compare to you, darling.” You hum in agreement, sighing as he works more knots loose.

“Don’t have ta’ come here to lick your wounds if there’s no wounds to lick. Could spend more time with Powder and Claggor, the kids are fond of ya’”

Your eyes slip open. Heart squeezing fondly at the mention of those little rascals. Vander and you aren’t exactly a thing, not said outloud anyways, but he introduced you to his kids. That meant something. He taught you how to sneak into his room too. When your landlord had to kick you out for a few weeks to accommodate for her lame ass nephew, you sheltered at The Last Drop and well, you all bonded.

The guilt in your heart stabbing into you night after night as more feelings poured into this already tumultuously boiling pot of emotions.

But Silco thought it was a good thing. He’d probably be telling you to take Vander’s deal on becoming this weird stay-at-home bartender/boyfriend/babysitter to get more information. Whether it be from Sheriff Grayson or the ever restless Vi.

“Think about it?” Vander blinks up at you when you lift your head. When your lips meet, it’s sweet. Slow and sensual, more lips than tongue. Pecks and real long-lasting ones. You murmur his name and he whispers yours back.

“You not sore?”

“Fuck me slow?”

He smiles and claims your lips again. Vander drifts his hand to the ice pack and removes it. The thud it makes when it falls to the ground makes you giggle, so he attacks your neck next; you give him free reign, gasping when he switches your positions to have laid down next to him.

You’re not even sure what happens next. One moment he’s clothed and the next he’s not as he practically snuggle fucks you on your side. He doesn’t have a bed frame but the springs in his mattress makes a few jostling noises as his cock slid in and out of your cunt.

“Vander, ah-mmphf, fuuuuck,” you press your face into the pillow and simply let him move you around. Completely at his mercy as he holds your waist.

Sevika glanced up at the faint thuds she was hearing above her. But refocuses on the table before her, scoffing at her competitor's lame poker face. Someone turned up the juke box and the noises are a distant memory.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he lifts one of your arms to wrap around his neck, kissing the underside of your arm and brushing his teeth there. The sensation of his beard makes you shiver.

“Deeper, please, Vander. Need you s’much deeper.” He kisses you, pulling out to readjust his position. You’re still laid on your side and he straddles your left leg and slides his thick cock inside of you again. Your voice trembles.

“There, darlin’?” you nod, whimpering when he rocks his hips in and out of you. You clutch at the bedsheets, turning your face into the pillow again as your cunt clenches down around him.

“Fuck, c’mon. Don’t push me out,” Vander threads his fingers through your hand and gently, as if you were made of glass instead of jagged metal, turns your head to him.

“Easy, loosen up a bit. Can’t fuck you how you need me to if you’re too tight.”

You whine, taking a few breaths and trying your best not to clench around him. Fuck, he was so thick. Even if you weren’t clenching, you were sure he’d still feel snug. He thanks you with a kiss to your forehead, gently shushing you when he moves again.

“Vuh...Vander...fuuuck, baby, please.”

“I’ve got ya’, come on, cum f’me.”

“You — Are you —”

Vander grunts, nodding as you once again clamp down on him. He knows you’re close, right on the edge and he wants to follow and dive with you. He kisses you, practically straling your breath away as his thrusts get sloppier and harsher. You mewl, nails digging into the back of his hands. Your orgasm washes over like a wave, your hips bucking as Vander feels your cum spurt around his dick and balls. He’s close behind, filling your insides with thick ropes of cum. He’s murmuring something into your skin. Something you can’t make out.

“Shit, shit.”

When he pulls out, your cunt clenched around nothing but air. Twitching and pulsing just like your little dick, aftershocks of pleasure running through you. His cum begins oozing out between your legs and he pants at the sight. You do nothing to stop him when he places you on your back — putting a pillow under your ass — and dives his head between your legs.

“Vander,” you moan out. Breath hitching as he licks a fat stripe up your cunt. “Let me do this for you,” he mumbles, groaning at the taste of your cum and his mixing together on his tongue. “Just let me take care of you.”

You stretch your arms above your head while he eats your boypussy out like he’s a starved man. His beard wet with your juices as your writhe on the bed. He doesn’t even tease, just intently cleaning and eating you out. You moan weakly for him, voice hoarse from servicing the Sevika and now fucking Vander.

You pinch your brows, squirming on the bed and gasping airily as Vander eases you into your nth orgasm of the day.

When you reach that peak, he eases you back down from the clouds. Carefully stroking over your thighs as he watches you catch you breath.

This is where you belong, he thinks. On his bed, legs spread and boycunt leaking with his cum; his name coming out your lips and his hands on your thighs. Vander presses kisses up your hips and chest, finally giving you a kiss on the lips.

“You alright?”

“Mmm.”

He chuckles and you trust him enough to slip your eyes closed.

“Just rest,” he tells you. “I’ve got you.”

Quitting was a sordid affair. There'd been a few passive aggressive claims from your madame about you crawling back and you calling her a cunt. Despite that, the both of you still acknowledge each other when she does walk into The Last Drop — it's hard to hate the woman who'd been generous enough to teach you everything you needed to know to survive.

The month that passed had been smooth sailing. You've gotten closer to Vander and his kids, even Benzo's little protege Ekko had come around to you. Which interests Silco, so you get close to Benzo. When Powder needs help with carrying stuff to his shop, you help. The guy was loyal to a fault and stubborn just like Silco had mentioned.

The first lesson you'd been taught in your ex-profession had been not to get feelings involved. Don't even dare to associate with customers who begin to get emotionally invested — it was bad for business in the long run. Sex isn't complicated but once you tangle in feelings? Bad mix for you. But when it came to listening in and relaying information, that career devastating choice is a powerful weapon. To turn trust into a dagger and thrust it under their ribs, tilting the blade up to hear that poor sucker suffer with each inhale.

So why is it so different this time?

How could you tuck in Powder at night and then sneak off to meet Silco in the docks to tell him what you'd overheard from Vander, Benzo, and Sheriff Grayson's discussions?

Were you that heartless?

Revolution is messy, Silco had once told you. It takes blood, sweat, tears, guts, and more guts. You don't ask for permission and you certainly don't ask for forgiveness after. Violence was necessary for change. Vander had lost sight of that, gotten soft.

But isn't it too cruel to play with his heart this way?

Would he love you if he knew what you were fighting for?

Would he condemn you for how you want respect?

He'd given you free roam of his home. Let his kids get attached to you. Gave you a job. All because he loves you.

"Is this really okay?" Vi says, which pulls you out of your thoughts. Your pupils shrink, turning to face her with your brows near your hairline.

Right. You were at the river with the kids.

The water gleamed and glimmered with metal wreckage in the bottom. There was also the unmistakable sheen of oil in it, but it honestly just added colour to the teal. The kids had breathed in worse, besides, it wasn't everyday they get to swim and just act their age.

"What? It's harmless," you snicker out, smoothly recovering as you lean back on your hands. She frowns, standing next to you on the banks. Vi constantly looks up at every little noise. Even if her head didn't turn, it was like the tip of her ears would just flick up like a vigil cat.

"Vi, it's fine. We're allowed to be here," you peer down at Claggor teaching Powder how to squirt out water between their palms while Mylo is on the shore. Wet and a bit glum looking as he shakes off the water from his hair.

"It's good to get a bit of sunlight," you tell Vi as you swing your legs over and smile as Powder accidentally shot a stream of water up Claggor's nose with amazing accuracy. Mylo laughs and Claggor splashes the water back over him. Her furrowed brow softening the tiniest bit.

It quickly returns as she turns her attention to the tall buildings with their golden ornaments and expensive detailing. You lean on your hands, nudging her leg with your elbow to pull her back.

"Hey, bet if you aim just right you can splash Mylo, Claggor, and Powder when you dive." She raises a brow, smirking at you.

Vi and you didn't have the best beginnings. She knew what your profession was and Mylo didn't exactly help with his long tales of the 'rumours' he's heard. Vander could protect himself, she knows this, but she got prickly when you had unceremoniously moved in during your landlord-nephew fiasco. Over some time though, she finds herself liking your more cynical nature. Although you acknowledge that they're kids, you also give them more credit than most adults do. It's nice feeling respected as a person.

"Hah! What are you betting?" You open your mouth to put an offer of some coins when the yell of an enforcer makes you twist your head and instantly clamber onto your feet.

"You! Stay there!" He yells, his blue uniform gleaming under the light. It's so rare seeing them all armoured up above ground. The sight should mean that you were well within your rights to be here, if he wore the armour that meant you were close enough to the Lanes to get him uncomfortable.

"C'mon, let's go! Let's go!" Vi nods and instantly hurries to gather her siblings attention, Claggor lifting Powder out the water and rushing to the shore while Mylo gathers their clothes. You know the enforcers would take some time climbing down — especially with his dumbass protective wear — so you use those precious minutes to ensure every one of them were ahead of you.

"(Y/N)!" Powder and Mylo call out when they hear you yell behind them. Vi skids to a stop, eyes wide when you find yourself pressed to the brick wall.

"Just go! Go!" she hesitates and you grit your teeth. "GO!"

The enforcer turns his gaze to them, his harsh breathing against your ear making you shudder. Vi is helpless as she grabs Mylo and Powder's wrist to tug them forward.

"We didn't do anything wrong!" you seethe out as you feel him patting you down.

"Not loiterin', not skulking, we were just - Fuck! Take it easy!" he kicks your ankles apart and you try to spin around only to get backhanded by your faceless attacker. He covers your eyes with his gloved hand, moving your head here and there as though he was inspecting you.

"Yeah, you're him," his mask makes his voice sounded inhumane. A machine-like quality that zaps out any bit of remorse or compassion from him. "You fuckin' slut."

Crumpling to the floor, you quickly cover your head and curl up when you see his boots flying in your direction.

Powder can only see glimpses of this violence as she turns her head back. Vi tells her to focus but she can't. Because all she sees is you on the floor, torso bare because you'd been swimming, bare foot too; hair wet, completely defenseless. Your grunts of pain echoing through the tunnel and your eyes having relief in them as the kids narrowly escape.

"What happened?" is Vander's first question when they all tumbled into The Last Drop. Instantly straightening up at Vi's distraught expression. It was still too early for anyone to have stumbled in, even by the Lanes standard, so he gave them all his attention.

"Vi?"

"We - we were just - we were just swimming," Mylo breathes through his nose, knees nearly buckling at the fright and rush of adrenaline. Their run through the underground, barefoot, and wet had certainly brought enough attention as is. Vander ushered them to get in, locking the front doors as they all suddenly find their voices.

"He said it was safe, they just, they grabbed him!" Vi is beginning to stomp, and Claggor nods along.

"(Y/N)?" Vander asks and Powder nods, eyes brimming with tears as she turns her attention to the doors. You should be bursting through it right now. Why weren't you?

"We were just swimming," Mylo repeats. Vander grabs his jacket. "I'm going with you!" Vi announces.

"Your feet are bleeding," he points out. "All you'd do is get in the way. Everyone of you stay here. I'll fix this."

Powder watches on as Vander rushes out the front door. Vi is still arguing, attempting to follow along either way but whatever shit she got trapped in her skin causes her to wince and falter. Claggor catches her, attempting to guide her to the chairs while Mylo is repeating the same thing.

"We were just swimming."

Topsiders had a weird thing for grudges. You understood that better than most. Eye for an eye and all that. But for Topsiders? It seemed rejection was worthy of a grudge. When you come to from the haze, you're on the wooden floors of a familiar face's house. His figure comes in fours, then twos, and finally come together in one.

Mr. Erikson. From that dumbass toga event at the brothel.

He's much more hideous in brighter lights. His plump cheeks and beady eyes more prominent. You cough, attempting to get up onto your feet only to be kept down as a familiar boot presses down on your shoulder. The bruise that was already blooming there made you grit your teeth while he harshly stomped down. Erikson winces, waving his hand to make the enforcer stop.

"Not so rough now. If he's too broken, it'll be painful to look at."

Glaring venomously at him as you stubbornly peel yourself off the floor and onto your staggering feet. The world spins but you stomp your foot to get some sense of equilibrium. There's a pounding in your head that pierces through your eyes and there's blood in your mouth; but all you can feel right now is the numbness in your limbs and the rapid pulse in your neck,

"I named you to your madame. The fox with the sweet (S/C) skin and pretty lips. The boy with the tightest cunt I've ever felt. You were there at a previous party, my other son's birthday."

You spit out some blood, wiping it away with the back of your hand as you sway in your spot. He curls his nose but continues.

"I had been hoping to give you as a gift to my youngest, Troy. But then you left, and when I asked for you again your madame wouldn't tell me just where you went. "

"You fucking kidnapped me because I wouldn't fuck you and your son on his birthday?"

The incredulity of the entire situation makes you choke out a laugh. Even with your spinning vision, this office was clearly that of someone who made decent money. With its mahogany bookshelves and leatherbound covers. Some books here were probably older than your ass, much more priceless too. Hell, you bet even that stupid fucking nameplate with the name Stephen Erikson carved into the gold had costs more than you.

"She said you quit. It was very hard to find you, considering the masks and all." He sniffles derisively. Off-put by your brash display. You were so nice and tender at the brothel, now you were acting like a completely different person.

"There's other guys with cunts, you geriatric chaser —" The enforcer backhands you again and it sends you flying to a shelf, a few books tumbling down while you desperately try not to fall on your ass.

"Troy," the old man reprimands with a drawl. He turns his attention back to you; "We'll pay you handsomely for a night."

You shake your head, digging your nails into the wood as your vision spins again. Troy, that shit, takes off his helmet and he's much more honest compared to his father; his fetish for pain was evident. Perhaps Stephen hadn't filed his teeth like you'd thought. Maybe they were just made to grind bones to dust, prolong their preys pain because unlike a predator with their fangs these teeth aren't for a merciless death.

Clearly he had learned this from his father who was enabling this behaviour. He probably taught him everything he needed to know anyways. You pant as you notice the painted family portrait on the wall of the study. Mr. Erikson and his three sons, all wearing their Enforcer's badge with pride. You recognized them all, each stupid event flashing through your head and each memory makes you more and more nauseous.

"I'm a fucking bartender now, I don't do that shit anymore" you growl out. Stephen sighs, leaning back in his leather tuft chair, looking completely bored by this entire insane exchange.

"Troy tells me he found you with a few kids. Yours?" When you say nothing in reply, he takes your seething silence as a yes. "Following your mothers footsteps, are you?" He shakes a bag of coins. Then tosses it onto the floor, golden pieces spilling out in front of you.

"You can work your ass off. Make life worth living for them."

There was a knock at the door. You waste no time and yell but get the breath knocked out of you as Troy swiftly pins you to the book shelf, a gloved hand over your mouth as he holds your hips in place with his own. Your skin prickles, just his weight on you has your stomach feeling sick.

"Who the hell is that?" Troy hisses at his father, his blue eyes panicked. The old man, as cool as a cucumber, simply tells the person on the other side to state their business.

"It's just the bloody maid," he scoffs out.

But the maid does not state their business. It's just pure silence on the other end until there's suddenly pounding. It makes the old man stand and Troy loosens his grip so you bring your knee between his legs. As he curls over you shove him away and retreat into a corner just as the door bursts open.

You recognize them. Ran, Lock, a few other nameless goons who you don't quite remember, and in the center of it all?

"Silco," you move and you fall to your knees. His expression darkens. The men and women fill the room, crowding Troy and his father to the other end while Silco makes his way to you. He offers a hand and you take it, leaning against him as he looks you over. Your lip was cut and one side of your face was scratched up, bruised and sore. The fact that you were dressed for a swim, torso bare, and feet scratched up from being dragged, made his ire raise.

"They did this to you?" He shrugged his coat off, and slipped it around your shoulders. You drew the front closed, nodding as you tuck your head under his chin.

"I wouldn't fuck them and they got pissy," you whisper to him. Silco growls, the rumbling noise soothing you just like Vander's chuckle would. He cups your face in his hand, his pinkie sliding under your jaw and his thumb across your cheek.

"What is this? Who are you?" Stephen stands, reaching for something on his desk but getting slammed face first onto the hard wood. There's a loud crackling noise that follows and you flinch out of shock. Silco simply guides your head to his neck, one hand smoothing over the back of your head and sighing in relief as his palms lift with no crimson.

"Dad!" Troy's yell gets cut short when he's forced onto his knees. There was a scuffle, fists meeting face and knees slamming themselves into his diaphragm. A small smile twitches to your face as your eyes slip close. Silco squeezes you, jolting you a bit.

"Stay awake, come. Sit."

Silco moves casually. Setting you to lay down on the lounge chair in the study, taking his coat off your shoulders to instead drape it over your. He pulls out his handkerchief to wipe away your blood while he kneels next to you. He takes his sweet time with you, his men keeping the pigs still as they both find themselves pinned down.

"I'd heard an enforcer had been snooping around the brothel. Asking for someone, demanding even" His voice makes your heart calm down, adrenaline ebbing away as he presses down on the cut on your eyebrow. The pain keeps you awake, but he still purses his lips at your hiss. Silco stands up, sighing softly. A kid comes to your side, offering you a flask of water. He's careful as he tilts your head up, watching intently as you sip it down.

"You're a proud man, aren't you Stephen?" Silco admires the family portrait, taking it the details of each face before he turns his attention to the table of trinkets below it. "A family of enforcers. Protecting the city you love." Silco tilts his head as he hears them struggle once again.

"While the city you constantly take from suffer from your greed."

"Fuckin' trencher," Troy spits out. His cheek pressed on by the heel of a boot. His blue eyes were shaking with indignation. "Who the hell do you think you are?"

"Fissure Folk, Sump Rat, Undercity scum," Silco answers. He steps over Troy's head and jerks his chin to signal Lock to step away from Stephen. He does and Stephen inhales, his entire body shaking as he coughs and coughs. The impressive table creaked under the old man's rattling breathes.

Ran brings Silco the fallen leather tuft chair and he crosses his legs as he sits.

"I'm sure you boast about being a near native to the undercity. With how often you visit our brothels with your men and sons. Using our bodies for your sick desires then beating it when you have the uniform on. Pretending to be a saint as your city fills your pockets. As if you've actually done anything worthwhile."

Stephen continues to hack, wheezing and whimpering. Every breath he took felt like a blunt blade was scratching up his lungs. His ribs were broken, he was sure of it.

"Yet, despite how many hours you've spent with our men and women, you still fail to understand the most important thing about us." Silco spreads his legs, elbows on his knees as he leans in so Stephen was looking right into his eyes.

"We protect our own."

"Please," Stephen's voice sounded strained. Like air escaping out of a broken pipe, the pitch ear grating. "I'm sorry."

Silco openly observes Stephen's splotchy red face. Cheeks full and plump, his brows trimmed and his dyed hair shining unnaturally cherry red. The family potrait was recent, but the artist had covered up their earlier renditions of Stephen's wrinkles while his blonde sons all looked their current age.

"No, you aren't." He states dryly, motioning for the man to slam Stephen back onto the table, him howling in pain just as Ran switches the radio on.

A jaunty tune plays. The singer sighing about puppy love as the melodic background singers and stringed instruments accompany his voice. He leans back in the chair, nodding as Stephen's captor wrings his hands back.

"But you will be."

"No!" Troy twists and bucks like an animal. His eyes wide with horror. As if he hadn't intended to strip you of all your dignity just moments ago. The sight of that fear on their face, that dawn of realization; even when they don't realize that they're only getting what they deserve, it soothes a part of Silco's soul.

"No?" Silco repeats.

"What do you want?" Troy is pleading now. The sight of his old man's hand pulled behind his body, ready to be broken in half, causing him enough distress for tears to fill his eyes.

"We'll give you anything!"

"Troy!" Stephen wheezes out in retaliation. Silco looks at the golden nameplate on his desk and scoffs. Anything? This house wasn't in any impressive neighbourhood. The portrait maker had been shoddy in their cover-up. The trinkets had a fine sheet of dust across them and the books weren't kept in the best conditions. Their maid had been an old woman with her back hunched, making her shrink down to the height of a pre-teen. Tired, slow at work; not the best money could get.

They weren't rich by Piltover standards. It's why they go to the Undercity for their parties. Things were cheaper there and get even cheaper when you flash your badges.

"You've nothing I want." He says simply, making sure Troy felt that pit of dread consume him entirely.

"We didn't know, we didn't know he was yours" Troy squirms, but the thug above him with the lazy eye simply stomped down on him harder. Knocking the air out of him and making him bite down on his tongue hard enough it fills his mouth with blood.

"No, because all that mattered was he was a trencher and he'd rejected your money. So predictable."

Lock smirks as Silco jerks his chin again and begins pulling Stephen's arm the wrong way. He screeches like a sewer mouse. You find yourself coughing as you laugh, reaching a hand up to cover your eyes at the noises. The song kept playing, the contrast of its sweet melody and words to the scenario before you simply adding more fuel to your delirious humour.

"PLEASE!" The youngest son doesn't even try to fight when his enforcer badge does nothing to intimidate others. When he's in a room full of people who wanted nothing more than crush him, he tucks tail and shows off his underbelly.

You try to hear what Silco says next, but the headache begins to grow stronger and the blonde kid next to you panics when he notices your eyes fluttering close. "Hey," he hisses, drawing Ran's attention as they kneel by your side.

Their voices become a blur and unconsciousness beckons you so sweetly. As hard as you try to fight, you find yourself sinking into that dark embrace, floating into nothingness as the pain shrinks away.

There's an incessant purring next to you. Just under your left armpit, warm and comfortable. It's the only thing you can feel and hear, your senses still dulled. While your mind runs a million miles a second, your limbs feel heavy and locked; as if they'd turned into lead. You're trapped in your own mind. Your eyelids feel like bricks and as your eyes move under them, left to right and right to left, you feel his hand slip into yours.

"Easy now," that voice, that honeyed drawl. You breathe sharply through your nose and he squeezes your hand. "I'm here. Easy."

Silco lifts the darkness from your eyes and your vision takes its damn sweet time returning to you. You see him though. Shifting from a blurry figure to that face you adored so much. He offers a ghost of a smile, bringing your knuckles to his lips as he sees the wildness in your eyes tame itself. The damp rag across your eyes is placed back into the bowl.

"You're alright. The Doctor says your adrenaline just ran out," he pushes you down gently when you try to sit up. It was for the best, considering how much your body was aching. Not even in the sexy, satisfied, way. You wince, grunting when you fall back onto the mattress. The purring machine next to you lifts its head and you raise a brow at the furless cat. It yawns, looking a bit disgruntled at your movement but stubbornly staying put as it curls up.

Breathing ball sack aside, you ask Silco what happened.

"What do you remember?" he lets your hand go to squeeze out the water from the rag, wiping away the cold sweat on your neck. "You giving me your coat, then some girl squealing, but don't remember much after."

Your retelling makes him scoff, clearly amused. The sight of your bruised lips and face twists his mouth into a frown. "I should've been there sooner."

"Don't start with that, come on." You wince as your sides pulsed in pain, a boot shaped bruise already beginning to darken. "How'd you even find out about the Eriksons?"

"The kids were running down the Lanes barefoot and wet - " you gasp and cut him off.

"The kids!" You lurch up, the cat growling in discontent as it sprung up into an arched back pose from the sudden movement. Regret is instant and striking, your muscles screaming in pain and head pulsing once again. Silco steadies you by your shoulders, brows furrowing.

"Fuh - fuck, are they alright? He mentioned seeing them, Silco. Tell me those assholes are - "

"They're dealt with."

His tone makes you pause, you peer at him through your eyelashes. "Did you...?" he smiles but shakes his head.

"Him and his father are more useful alive. But a few bones were broken. He was in the academy with Sheriff Grayson's second in command, Marcus."

Silco leans in, pressing his forehead with yours. Uncaring of the dampness of your forehead or your hair. The tip of his nose brushes agaisnt your cheek and you flutter yours eyes at the feeling.

"So he's in your pocket?"

"I was worried," he dismisses the questions so blatantly you wring out a breathless laugh. "Your madame said she had a feeling who the enforcer was, if it weren't for her..."

"I would've been fine," you cup his marred cheek, allowing him to slip his arms around you. "I'm tough."

No, you're not, Silco wants to say. The fever you've developed from the stress and cold and the wounds on your body — you were a statue made off jagged metal but it didn't mean you couldn't get scratched, bent, melted. You would have survived but that didn't mean you should be going through such injustices.

"I plan on staying here until we're free," you promise to him as you slip your eyes closed. "I wanna see Zaun with my own eyes."

You feel him lean in closer and then his lips are on yours. Your brows knit together, the cut there stinging but you don't mind it. Silco kisses you like he wants to devour you. The heat he brings is like a glowing dagger; the silver steaming and glowing orange from the fire. Cutting you and cauterizing the wound at the same time. Painful, seeringly painful, but not deadly.

You part your lips, twisting your head as he clutches the back of your neck. The calloused pads of his hands making the hairs on the back of your neck stand, applauding him almost. You clutch at his vest, whispering his name as he tangles his tongue with yours.

Feeling you, holding you; Silco can't remember the last time he's felt this light and grounded at the same time. He was truly worried, you know. His heart dropping to his stomach when Deckard informed him about Vander's brats rushing through in complete panic. It was a random act of violence. Piltie's finest once again throwing their weight around.

You lean back and he chases. Your teeth clack together and you wince, so he kneads at your nape and lowers you back on the bed.

You should stop. This wasn't right. Your grip on Silco's vest loosens as you remember sweet Vander. Whose kisses felt like burning smoke going down your throat, filling your body with warmth that is entirely too phantom-like and too suffocating all the same. You shouldn't go further, you shouldn't. Silco slips a hand to your chest, pulling your thin blanket down and you wince, pulling away from the kiss to gasp. Silco and you pant heavily, the heat dissipating the longer you do.

"I'm sorry," he shakes his head and assures you it's alright.

"How long have I been out?"

"A couple of hours. He's been looking for you. His accomplices too." Most patrons of The Last Drop had been anxiously waiting to hear your return. We take care of our own. Those just weren't pretty words. Benzo had told them to calm down, saying Vander will handle it but it was evident that a pin could drop and they'd turn over every little rock to find you.

Their respect for Vander's leadership is the only thing holding them back. It's holding you back too, he can tell. Ever since you'd moved in, you stray away from his touches. You've grown a sort of affection for Vander. Just like he had.

"Shit, I should head back then." Silco nods, helping you sit up. "The boy he says he's at the edge of the Lanes. Asking around."

It makes your heart flutter.

Ran looks you over when you walk up to them, a question in their eyes.

'You okay?'

"Could be better," you tell them. Dressed in an oversized shirt and your pants from earlier. They nod, reaching to slip their hand under your arm and you wince.

"Thanks for this and the save," they shrug and look ahead.

'Don't mention it.'

When you do spot Vander, your face brightens up. But Ran frowns, suddenly hiding behind a couple of crates. You don't quite get it until you see blue.

Vander was talking to an enforcer. Not just any enforcer either, the fucking sheriff.

"Grayson, I'm not askin' for much here," he growls out. She looks away, shaking her head. "You're not giving me much to go off on, Vander. The kids say he got taken by an enforcer for no reason in broad daylight but they can't even tell you any more details?"

"They were terrified, I'm sorry if they didn't come t'have a chat with 'em!"

Vander's muscles were tense, shoulders drawn and jaw clenched. He looked exhausted. His hair tousled from him constantly running his hands through them. The greys in his beard looking more prominent all of a sudden.

"Grayson, please."

Please.

He's begging for help from an enforcer.

You dislodge from Ran, giving them a nod as thanks before you limp towards them. The sound of your uneven footsteps makes their head snap your way. Vander whispers your name, then says it again with more volume as he rushes to hold you. He scans you, from top to bottom as he holds you in his arms.

"Shit, shit, you're okay." You're not, but your anger does calm the tiniest bit as he pulls you into a hug. Grayson looks at you and from over Vander's shoulders, you glare daggers into her. That fucking uniform, that breathing mask hung around her neck.

You still hear it. Vander pleading for help from her.

"Are you alright?" Sheriff Grayson says, coming close as Vander lets you go. You push him away, fists trembling as you walk towards her. Her eyes harden, lips pursing at your unrestrained strife.

"Screw you," you hiss, digging your pointer finger to her chest. "Screw everything you stand for."

Vander calls out your name, placing a hand on your shoulder that you shrug off. Even when your life had been in danger. Even when he could've done something. Vander remained a docile pet to Topside, begging for his masters help like a good lap dog.

Your lips tremble, tears filling your eyes.

"I'm here for you, (Y/N). If you could just tell me the name of the enforcer who'd done this to you, I can help you," Grayson tries to reason. Even when you were patched up, it was clear you'd been smacked around.

"It doesn't matter," you seethe out. "I just want to help, I can't if you don't tell me," you shake your head and walk past her.

"Fuck you."

"(Y/N)," Vander offers Grayson a glance but she shakes her head, turning away as he rushes after you. She watches the both of you, the anger in your posture so evident it makes her mouth twist.

Vander is quiet as you get inside the elevator. As it rumbles to life, you grip onto the railings instead of him and he tires to soothe you but you flinch away from him. "Darlin'" he places a hand on your shoulder and you spin, gnashing your teeth as you yell.

"Sheriff Grayson!? You went to her!?"

"What else was I meant to do?" He grits out.

"Fight! Vander! Fight back!" you throw a fist at his chest, he lets you.

"I was fucking terrified, do you - do you know how fucked it was!? He grabbed me off the damn street! He fucking -" you inhaled sharply as your ribs screamed in pain. If you closed your eyes you could hear the thudding noise of his feet flying to your body.

Vander feels his heart drop and he tilted your head up. His large hand cupping your face as tears streamed down your cheeks. You're running hot, fever returning as your emotions ran high.

"I was so scared, Vander." Your sob pierced through his chest. Nothing had compared to that pain of letting you down. Nothing. Not when the skin of his knuckles ripped apart or when enforcer bullets whizzed past his ears and made his hearing tune into a high pitched ring or when he'd been stabbed. He gathered you in his arms, despite your weak pushes and protests. He holds you to his chest and tucks your head under his chin, just holding you there.

"I'm sorry, love. I'm so sorry."

Heads raised the second the doors opened. You blinked in surprise at the sight of the usual patrons. A blue blur rushed towards you and you grunted at her tight hug but smile down at her.

"Hey, Powder..." you pressed her face to your stomach, rubbing her back as she sobbed in relief. Vi approaches you next, showing a rare moment of softness as she slips under your open arm. Milo and Claggor rush in as well and you wince a bit but just laugh softly. Ekko sighed out in relief, Benzo's eyes softening at the sight.

"You all worried about me?" you give the patrons a coy smile that they scoff at but the relief was evident. "Cut the bullshit and stop smiling," Sevika says, crossing her arms. "What the fuck happened?"

Vander drapes his jacket around your shoulder. "Story for another time. How about some free drinks, yeah?" the mood lightens up a bit, despite the question hanging heavily in the air.

Powder is glued to you, sniffling as she clings but you don't mind. "C'mon, let's go down," you tell the kids and they nod. Milo rambles about what he'd done if you weren't caught off-guard. Vi shaking his head at him while Claggor just helped you down the stairs.

"He alright?" Benzo asks Vander when he comes around to the bar. Derek waves Vander away, pouring everyone a drink and Vander nods appreciatively his way as he sits. "No, he isn't" he confesses, glaring at the bottles of liquor, at his reflection in them.

"Fight! Vander! Fight back!"

Benzo slides him his pipe and Vander simply holds it in his hands. The look in your eyes. That disappointment etched into every line on your face. The rage that flowed down your cheeks. Vander brought the apparatus to his lips, lighting a match and inhaling to calm his shot nerves.

"He'll be alright. He's the tough sort, yeah?" Benzo places a heavy hand on Vander's shoulder, tilting his frame down a bit. "He was scared, Benzo."

"He was scared and I couldn't do anythin'."

"Powder, I'm okay," you reassured for the fifth time in a row. You don't dare try to peel her away from you but you do make an effort to calm her trembling frame. Poor thing was shaking like a damn leaf as she laid besides you on her bottom bunk. Vi smiles wryly, just watching the scene with more emotion than a kid her age should have. Ekko peers down from the top bunk, asking if the cut brow hurt and you just scrunch your nose and laugh.

"Nah, come on. I'm not a wimp, Little Man."

Mylo nudges Ekko, echoing your statement in his own words. Claggor appears, holding a cup of some warm water and offering it to you. "Here, you must be tired," you thank him and hitch Powder up with you as you sit up a bit.

"You guys, I really am okay."

Powder just tightened her grip around you. All she could hear was the sounds of that scene. You sprawled onto the floor, half-dressed, bare foot; a fully armoured enforcer above you with his legs swinging back as you yell at her to go.

"Don't leave," she whispers against your stomach and you brush your fingers through her bangs. "I won't, baby. I'm not going anywhere."

"Where are you four going?" they stiffen up, twisting their heads to look at you as you leaned against the railing leading to Vander's office and bedroom. You were dressed in a large shirt that reached your knees, eyes still puffy from sleep as you held a mug of something warm. Mylo gawks, mouth gaping like a fish as he tries to find the words; hands coming to scratch the back of his head. Claggor just stiffens up like a board and Powder hides slightly behind him.

Vi lowers her hood, looking a bit smug. "A morning walk," she says cooly. You arch a brow, bringing the rim of the mug to your lips. Last night had been a busy night for the bar, a few scuffles ignited because some dumbass didn't know when to cut himself off when he needed to. So Vander was fully conked out and you wanted him to take as long as he needed to recuperate.

"Mhm," you glance at each of their faces for a moment then sigh and close your eyes. "What's the job?"

Vi's shoulders fall. Damn you and your perceptiveness. It was unnerving how good you were at reading people at times.

"Little Man gave a tip," that woke you up a bit more. "You sure you can pull it off?" Vi nods firmly, her shoulders squaring confidently.

"We're ready."

"Stay safe and stay out of sight," they grin up at you and rush out through the back. Powder gives you a wave that you return before silence washes over the empty bar. You crack your neck, grunting as the satisfying popping noises echo then make your way down the stairs.

You prepare to set-up for the noon crowd. Leisurely moving around as you swept and wiped down everything. When Vander does lumbers down, he gathers you in his arms by wrapping them around your waist. Those damned arms. You swear his bicep was as big as your damn head.

"Mornin'" you chuckle as he rubs his beard to your cheek. "You weren't b'sides me, not a very good start" you roll your eyes at him, patting his arm so he lets you go and you can turn around to look at him.

"Kids awake?"

"They left to get breakfast," you turn and plant a kiss on his lips, smiling as he groans into it. "I made you coffee, c'mon. Gotta start the day right." Vander groans again, firmly cupping your ass in his hand and lifting you onto a table. You laugh, glancing at the windows but he simply blocks your body from view.

"If we're talking about starting the day right..." "Vander!"

"You said the kids are out, right?" You squeal when he brings his face to your neck, moaning as he kisses over the previous hickeys he'd left. He brings your crotches together and you chew on your lips as you feel his morning wood against your clothed cunt.

"Fine, let's start the day right." You feel him grin against your neck.

“Atta’ boy.”

Huck is chipper today. Greeting you with that flush on his cheek that never fails to remind you of a blushing maiden. "Closing that deal, Huck baby?" you asked, smiling sweetly his way. He sputters but nods, asking for a pint to sweeten the deal.

"Coming right up" Vander presses a hand to your waist as he walks behind you, asking if you could wipe down a table and you nod. Sevika bumps her knee to yours as you clean the table next to hers.

"Is he a damn vacuum?" she says as she eyes the hickeys on you. "You jealous, Sev?" her nose crinkles at your teasing but she doesn't deny it. She just laughs at it, turning her attention back to her cards. You lean down, making a grimace as your stare at her deck that makes the others start double guessing.

Who were they to believe? Sevika's calm expression or your grimace?

She huffs through her nose, watching your profile from the corner of her eyes. Though that's cut short by the tense scene in Huck's corner. You straighten up, brows furrowing as you watch it unfold.

Though everything goes smoothly once Vander sends them a simple message, something about that interaction makes your stomach twist. The news about an explosion happening Topside didn't help ease this pit of snakes and they only knot themselves into worse shape when the kids walk in.

Vander and you share a look as he walks to their room, you can't leave the bar unattended so you trusted him to ask. But this feeling just wouldn't leave you. When Vander pops back put with a sack over his shoulder and Claggor following behind, you slip out the bar to stop in front of your boy.

“Who did this?” Claggor shifts under your gaze, trying to cover his bruise with his hand. Pretending to scratch at his cheek. “One of us,” Vander answers for him. That brings up more questions than it does answers. So Claggor just shrugs.

“It was some blonde kid and his goons. Said something about us crossing his turf.”

You frown but let them pass after ruffling Claggor’s hair. Turning your attention back to the bar. The rest of the night goes by smoothly enough, a few verbal scuffs but nothing you couldn’t handle. When Vander returns, he wraps his arms around your waist and presses a kiss to the top of your head.

“What’d Benzo say?” he tightened his grip then sighed. It was a heavy one and you make a questioning noise.

“What? What happened?”

Vander poured both of you a shot and silently handed you the glass. You take it but the frown does not disappear. He clinks your glasses then throws his head back, you copy his motion. Not grimacing as it burns down your throat, simply staring Vander down as that feeling in your gut worsens.

“They need their slab of meat for the explosion today.”

Deckard bumps into you as he gets escorted out by Lock. Who does not waste anytime in flirting with you: “Hey, hot stuff,” Lock calls out and you scoff. “Keep on dreaming, bud.”

“Every night, baby!” his reply makes you smile, shaking your head as you open the door to the lab. The squealing pink vines on the floor never failing to make you shudder as you avoid stepping on them. You know they’re not technically alive but you swear, every creak and whine this rundown factory makes is just these things making their way out.

“Ah, (Y/N),” your smile tightens. “Hey, Doc.” he shares a glance between Silco and you then walks to his station. In his own way telling you to just ignore his presence. Silco continues to stare at the rat cage, entranced at the squealing and yowling. The splatter of blood against the glass makes you flinch but you stand next to Silco and pale.

“What the hell is that?”

“An upper hand,” Silco traces the planes of your face with his eyes. The micro expressions you display — twitches, spasms, tugs. Even when contorted in disgust, you were a marvel. Especially when backdropped by the creatures of the depths. The speckles of light piercing through the water just add to your allure. He knows you’re not fond of his affections, not without feeling guilt, but he reaches for your hand and presses your knuckles to his lips.

You steel your emotions, expressions turning neutral. As if you could hide the way your lips quiver to hide that grin.

“Silco. Did you ask Deckard to jump my kids?” The softness of the moment is broken by the accusation. He lets go of your hand and glances at the savage rat tearing into the corpse of the cat.

“I told the boy to simply observe. I gain nothing from hurting them.”

You purse your lips, crossing your arms as you walk away from the gruesome view. You glance at the table, picking up the gun-shaped needle device, testing its weight in your hands.

“You doubt me?” You frown at the tone he takes. “No, I don’t.”

Because no matter how you spin it, Silco was right. There was no scenario where Deckard trying to beat the shit out of your kids gave him an upper hand in the grand scheme of things.

Silco watches your fingers tinker with his device. Lost deep in thought while you flip it over and trace your touch down every scratch or bump it had. It's on the tip of your tongue, he sees the way your jaw is clenched. How your shoulders are tensed up despite wearing that thick jacket, hood drawn up to hide your face.

A bitterness ebbs its way to Silco's rationale. That look in your eyes, that contemplativeness. It was doubt.

"I won't be able to give you an answer if you don't ask," he turns around to the underwater scene instead. The sight of you weakens him too much. Silco can't allow you to be a distraction, no when the pieces are falling just where they need to.

"There's nothing to ask." You place the device down and slip your eyes closed. No matter what he says, how he tries to reassure you; it wouldn't change what was already set in motion.

"You said the kids would stay out of it, right?"

"Yes."

He wouldn't look at you as he says it. His figure casting a long shadow on the scuffed floors of the lab and the hairs on the back of your neck pricks. The Doctor calls out your name and you reluctantly tear your eyes away from Silco to tilt your head questioningly at him.

"It's getting late. Best to get back before suspicions raise." The unrest was worsening. The Undercity folk have been walking on a tight rope made off steel for years now. The rope digging viciously into your feet, slicking up the material while you held your hands out to your side. This so called 'peace' that the Topsiders called it was laughable.

With how hard the enforcers were hitting now, that tightrope walker's knees were beginning to buckle as their blood gushes beneath them.

You openly glare at their masked heads, nails digging into the wooden crate of goods. Waiting for them to pass you before you stepped out from the tight alleyway. You worry for a moment about your kids. They were in a more secluded part of town, in their little hideout and you hope they're keeping their heads down like Vander had told them too.

A pair of boots appear in your vision, that obnoxious mechanical breathing lifting the edge of your hood. You scowl, lifting your head to glare into those bug-like lenses.

He says your name, you can tell his face is scrunched up as if even muttering it annoys him. You curl your nose, standing your ground. "What the hell do you want?" Troy scoffs, his gloves creaking when his hands curl into fists.

"Just being thorough in my search, we're looking for four sump rats."

You glance over his shoulder, noticing a few other enforcers asking others who do little to hide their anger. Topside really doesn't know how much restraint it takes to continue this 'peace' and they still insist on poking the bear.

"A councilor's kid almost got hurt."

"So they need four kids to get their lick back?"

One kid almost got hurt and Topside is asking for justice. Yet they turn a blind eye to the kids who were breathing in toxins and starve day after day. Because it's never been about unity, it's about subservience.

Troy glances at your crate and you scoff. "Piss of, Piltie," you shoulder through him and Troy lets you. His fathers arm would never bend right anymore so he knew better than to put his hands on you again. But he still glared at the back of your head, burning holes into you. You turn, walking backwards and lifting one hand to flip him off before you make your way back home.

Sevika's voice is the first thing you hear when you walk in. You place the crate down, slipping your hood down and glancing at the small crowd of people. Vander regards you with a nod and you stand besides him.

"We should hit them back. We got the numbers to beat them." Sevika's words makes a few head nod, soft cheers of agreement echoing through the room.

"Yeah. Let's teach them what it means to mess with us." Another voice says, you cross your arms, leaning your hip against the bar. Sevika is looking right at you, tilting her head at the apprehension on your face.

"You sure that's what you want? We crossed that bridge once before, we all know how that ended." Vander is trying to reason with an angry crowd. An exhausted one. You do nothing to hide your frown at his words. He pretends not to see it.

"You're just protecting your kids," she retorts. A vein jumps in Vander's neck, his jaw clenching the tiniest bit.

"I'm protecting our people. I'd do the same for any one of you. We look out for each other. It's the way it's always been. This will blow over. We just need to stand together."

His sentiments were noble. But the tightrope was beginning to tremble and the walker on top of it was now desperately crouched to grip at it with their hands instead.

"The Vander I knew, the one who built the underground, wouldn't be afraid to fight."

Vander stands and you feel a smidge of fear in your heart. He was pulled taut, all of this stress showing through the tightness in his posture. He towered over Sevika, a rumbling growl building in his throat.

"Do I look afraid?"

Sevika doesn't falter. She scoffs, meeting his challenging gaze with no issue.

"No. You look weak."

Marcus walks in with a purpose. His men following behind him making sure to puff their chests with each stride in. The Last Drop patrons find their fingers twitching, readying itself to grab at the blade near their hips. You level your gaze with Troy, he meets it head on and in a blink-and-you'll-miss motion he glances at the stairs leading down.

You straighten up, heart jumping to your throat.

Marcus' arrogance is like rubbing salt into an already festering wound. He doesn't need to say but he does it anyways and your little tightrope walker is now gone. Just two poles standing in the darkness, with no evidence of the rope or the walker ever existing.

You rush down the stairs, the door flying open and calling out for your kids. You instantly gather Powder and Ekko into your arms, checking over Claggor and Mylo while Vi talks to Vander.

"We need to fight back!" her fist slams into the wall and you meet Vander's eyes from over her shoulder.

Still.

Still, he remains stubborn. He tells Vi he has to show her something and you feel that same disappointment build in you. That day you saw him pleading for help from Sheriff Grayson after she had asked if the kids were truly getting their facts right.

Vander was too soft to protect anyone. Your heart squeezes at the revelation, but you numb yourself out to it. Even when Piltover was calling for the blood of your kids, he still deludes himself into this fantasy of peace.

He was weak.

You bring your lips to Powder's forehead, keeping Ekko close to you while Mylo and Claggor shift uneasily as Vi follows Vander out.

"Come on, help me close up early." Mylo and Claggor uncross their arms, nodding. You pull away from the embrace and cup Powder and Ekko's faces in each hand.

"Ekko, you should get back to Benzo's, it's getting late." He pauses but nods, so you stroke over the back of his head and press a kiss to his temple. "Enforcers are gonna be crawling all over, want me to drop you off?"

"No, I can be sneaky!" Ekko beams up at you and you return his grin, standing to send him off. Powder stands next to you, watching as Ekko disappears into the alleyways with an agility of a street cat.

"Why won't Vander fight?" she looks up at you, brows furrowed. "They're ruining everything. The enforcers. They threw a guy through a window, they're -"

"Monsters." You finish for her. She sees the scar running down your brow and inches close, so you wrap an arm around her. Man, she's grown like a sprout, limbs all lanky and awkward.

She couldn't grow up in a world like this.

"All of them are monsters," she whispers under her breath and your silence just cements this further into her brain.

"All of them," you continue.

When Vander returns with your eldest, he knows he's pissed you off. You won't meet his eyes, nursing a drink in your hand while you stare at a card in between your hands. He stands next to you and plucks your old business card from your fingers. It was wrinkled, yellowing with age and some words already fading. But your writing on the back remains.

'Come see again soon'

"Revisiting memories?" that was the theme tonight it seems. You'd slipped that into his jacket after he pulled off a drunkard away from you. Vander still remembers the seat you were sat in, what you were wearing, and that gleam in your eyes when you catch him staring at you for a bit too long.

He sits next to you and glances at the cast iron gloves. Those memories do little to make him happy. You take a swing of your drink, slamming the cup down and moving to stand. Vander calls out your name, grabbing at your arm to tug you in. You grunt when you land against his chest.

"You're pissed at me."

You roll your eyes at him, using your hands to push away but he does not relent.

"You honestly think we should go to war with Topside?" there's a bite to his tone. His patience with Vi had been in abundance, she was young and hurt. But out of everyone else, he thought you should understand him better.

"You want her to live like this her entire life? Keeping her head down and taking every beat down for a noble purpose?" You slur out, ripping yourself from his arms to grab at your coat.

"I want her to stay alive. I want all of you to stay alive" his voice raised the tiniest bit but he restrains himself and it pisses you off more. You put on your jacket and he sighs. "Where the hell are you going?"

You smack his hand away, stumbling a bit as you turned to face him.

He wants to hear it. A scathing 'fuck you' or 'leave me alone, asshole'. But you just narrow your eyes at him, lips trembling as its set in that frown, then just shake your head and turn away to walk out.

You don't know where you planned on going. You let your legs carry you around, aimlessly wondering through the alleyways until you find yourself at a familiar backdoor. You push the heavy door open. The busy wallpaper and creaky floorboards give you more comfort than you expected.

"(Y/N)?" Doe blinks at the sight of you. She takes off her mask and you stare at her concerned face. "Are you okay?" you shake your head and lean in. Her eyes widen when your lips meet hers, she places firm hands on your chest and push you back.

"You're drunk."

You shake your head, cupping her face again and kissing her. She groans, murmuring your name before she bites down. You hiss, back hitting the wall as she shoves you. "You're with Vander." The reminder makes you laugh. You slide down the wall, putting your head between your knees as your tears well up.

Sevika thanks Doe for telling her where you were, crouching to grab a fistful of your hair to raise your head. Your empty gaze makes her sigh. You don't even fight when she slings your arm over her shoulder and lifts you onto your feet.

"The hell are you two taking me?"

"Silco's." Doe answers flatly.

Sevika feels you stiffen up. "I knew you hated them, but never figured you'd been working with him the whole time," she gruffs out. "Wish you would've told me about it sooner."

"Sorry, I'll be sure to invite you into my super secret group club the next time, okay?"

You're sober enough to be sarcastic without slurring words together. She just adjusts her grip on you and makes her way to the factory by the docks.

The Doctor greets you as Sevika drops you onto a chair. A dark shadow moves idly by the windows and you clutch at your neck as you crack it again. "Why am I here?" you mumble, pinching your brows. "To keep you safe."

You look at him through squinted eyes. "Why wouldn't I be safe?"

You had no idea what had happened. Not Benzo's murder and not Vander's kidnapping. Call it luck or a happy accident, Silco doesn't care. He's glad you're not looking at him with an ounce of hatred, just simple confusion.

"Stumbling around drunk," he begins "late at night." He was worried you'd run away. Ran and Lock had looked for you at the bar, even asked around for you. Thankfully, Sevika had found you.

"I'm a big boy" you reply, leaning back in the chair only to smack your hand onto the edge of a table when you realise it was a stool.

"Sober him up," he tells the Doctor who reaches for a small jar on the shelves. "This won't make you sober," he tells you as he unplugs the cork from the top, you grimace and bring your face close. "But it'll wake you up."

The sharp sting that wafts up your nose makes you groan, backing away from his outstretched hand. Doe keeps you from falling backwards, steadying you while you making hacking noises.

Silco and Doe nod at each other. She's got you, he can trust her with this. He turns and Sevika follows in step. They step out, the door thudding close.

It was better to keep you away from this. You cared too much about Vander, he can't let you get distracted from the freedom that's right there. Shimmering like a desert oasis in front of him. Hate him if you must, but Vander had done himself in the second he decided to put on those handcuffs.

The hound of the underground was nothing but a lapdog now. He can't keep his people in check anymore, it's why they've turned to him instead. They need this. Zaun needs this. Vander will be known as a coward who ran away with his kids. Leaving the undercity to save his own skin, so his hands remained clean from anymore blood. Like the true coward he was.

You'll forgive him for this. You'll have to.

You're standing now, peering into the rat cage while Doe stared at the test tubes full of creatures on the shelves. Every time you even glance at the direction of the exit, Doe steps subtly in your way. He wanted to keep you in here? Seriously? You weren't that damned drunk.

You hear muffled voices from outside and as Doe picks up a test tube, you take your chances wrestling with her. She blinks in alarm, nearly dropping the tube as you suddenly dash towards the door. The Doctor stands as the the glass breaks and splatters green glowing liquid onto the floor. She calls out your name and you twist the handle open, slamming it closed in her face. She pounds on the door, cussing you out for being a bitch and you would've replied with your own string of colourful words but a body crashes next to you.

It's Lock. He groans, jaw loose and mouth bloody as he his head limply falls backwards. You notice the shadows from the bridge and look up.

"Vi!" she feels ice in her veins. She chances a glance down and yells out your name in confusion. Silco tightens his grip on the railing so Sevika whistles sharply. You yell as a few of her men try to grab you.

"(Y/N)?' Mylo repeats, his hands trembling even more. Vander's heart drops to his stomach but he snaps Mylo back into focus.

Why was she wearing those gloves? No, what the hell was she doing here in the first place?

"Silco!" you avoid a pair of burly arms, ducking away and bumping into the crates filled with Shimmer. "What are you doing!? You promised!"

He motions for more of his men to rush the bridge. Vi doesn't have enough time to process your words fully. She shakes her arms, cracking her neck as she prepares to fight. She must've misheard. She must have.

"SILCO!"

Your yells are making Vander's heart race. He can't see you. Only hear you. If Silco was ready to get rid of his kids just to ensure his control over the undercity, he doesn't dare to imagine what he'd do to you. Vi is determined, she cannot let her fathers die here. Not when she was the one who'd put them in this situation in the first place. These series of events, this domino effect all began from that damn explosion.

She can't let herself be orphaned again. She can't let Powder be orphaned again.

You continue to evade them, grabbing a wooden plank and smashing it over a few heads to put enough distance. When you reach the stairs, you yell out for Vi again. Silco doesn't dare look your way as you rush towards the bridge. He cannot get distracted. He can't.

Sevika grabs at you, her arm wound around your waist and you snarl. You aim your elbow at her head, making her flinch enough to loosen her grip. It still isn't enough though. Even then, she squeezes you like a damn snake.

"Let him go!" Vi growls out, adrenaline pumping through her veins. You dig your nails into Sevika, slamming your fist onto her arms while you struggle. Deckard watches this half-dazed, purple liquid oozing out from the corners of his eyes as he's bent over the railings.

"Ready to rise to the surface?" Silco holds the glass vial of Shimmer to his face. Deckard's breathing quickens and he downs it.

It happens quick. One second Deckard is just another boy and the next he's a monstrous figure rushing towards Vi. You yell, finally managing to elbow Sevika right in her face. She drops you and the second your feet are on the ground you sprint towards Vi.

You gather her in your arms and damn near skid to a stop once you past the threshold of safety. "The door! The door!" Vi yells, grabbing the handle and you help her. It slams close just in the nick of time, Deckard squealing from the other side as he pounds his fists so hard, it makes you and Vi bounce away from the door. You dig your heels in and grip onto the handle, sweat beading down your nose as you try to catch your breath.

"(Y/N)! You alright?" you cuss under your breath but let out a breathless laugh.

"Never better."

Vander sighs, looking to Vi next. He feels the rush of cool air as Claggor finally makes a hole big enough for them to escape from.

"You did good, Vi."

She feels hope stir within her.

You don't remember what happens next. It's a fiery blur, only flashes of images bursting through every time you open your eyes to blink. The smoke was so thick and the metal door ontop of you was so heavy. Vi is crying.

Vi is crying and Vi never cries.

She calls for your name, her body trembling underneath you. When you wheeze, she sobs. Whether out of pain or relief, you can't tell. Ahead of you, you see the most horrifying sight.

Claggor. Mylo.

Dead.

"I want her to stay alive. I want all of you to stay alive."

You brace yourself onto your elbows, straining out a yell as you try to lift yourself up enough for Vi to shimmy out. It groans above you, scraping against the floor inch by painful inch as you feel your eyes water. Vi calls out your name again, finally looking her age as she tries to crawl out.

What have you done?

When a hulking figure comes close, you yell in an attempt to scare him off. But it wasn't Deckard, it was Vander. Your Vander, with his veins glowing purple and his body nearly double its size. There's heat coming off from him, his rapid growth most likely putting his body through torture. You swear you can hear his enlarged heart as it beats like a war drum.

What have you done?

Vi finally crawls out and she turns to hold the door up so you can too. You stumble and kneel right in front of Mylo's outstretched hand, grasping at it while your other hand tries to dig him out.

"C'mon, c'mon baby. You're okay, you're okay." You sob, lifting your eyes to look at Claggor next and begin shaking your head. It was just ash and debris, he wasn't that pale. He was strong, he was your strong boy. You wipe away some of the dust from his face and choke back a sob when all he does is loll his head to the side.

"No, no, no. Claggor, Mylo."

There's a loud explosion. The building rumbles, the roof creaking as it sinks down. Vi is clutching at your shoulder, crying as she stares at her brothers. Vander gathers you both in his arms and flies through the escape plan. You scream, feeling the heat lick at your back.

Vander takes the brute force of the fall. Cushioning you and Vi as his last act of love. You hear it, his heart as it slows. You shake your head, looking down at him, cupping his face as rain descends onto you.

"Vander," Vi whimpers out.

"No, baby, please. I'm sorry," you brush your thumb over his cheek, one hand remaining on his chest. The shimmer was wearing down, his pounding heart begins to get slower and slower.

"I'm so sorry, Vander."

He leans into your palm, feeling the tiniest bit of happiness that you two were still alive. He'd always joked about dying, how he wanted to have you over him like an angel. And you'd always laugh, telling him he was ridiculous.

"Take care of Powder."

Vi screams next to you. You hang your head, sobbing as you hold his face in your hands. You press your foreheads together, kissing him one last time before you pull away.

"Vi, it worked!"

Who was that?

"Did you see me? My monkey bomb finally worked!"

Vi gets up and you turn your head to follow her. The sight before you is strange. Vi and Powder were fighting, yelling at each other but you can barely hear it over the rain and crackling fire.

Vi hits Powder and you shakily bring yourself to your feet. As Powder begs for her sister to come back, you stumble towards her. She turns to you, crying nonsensically about how she just wanted to help and you nod, trying to form words but your tongue feels like lead.

Silco finds her desperately shaking your shoulders as you sprawl out onto the ground. He sees your chest going up and down so he concerns himself with the girl.

"Hello, little girl. Where's your sister?"

Then the strangest thing happens. She lunges at him, brings him to his ass, but hugs him so tightly he's confused at her intentions.

"She left us. She's not my sister anymore."

Silco brings a hand to the back of her head, understanding just to well about what she was feeling. He glanced at Vander's grotesque body then at yours.

"It's okay. We'll show them. We'll show them all."

What have you done?

He knows you're pissed at him. Actually, pissed doesn't even begin to describe how you're feeling. But Silco remains cool in your presence, standing in Vander's office, looking at the stack of papers. Stock intakes, accounting bullshit, Powder's doodles. You're sat on the couch, staring at your lap with a blanket over your shoulders. Powder's head in your lap as she twitches and sniffles in her sleep.

"You promised me you wouldn't hurt them."

"I didn't."

You bring your hand over Powder's ears, glaring at him. Your face angled down, eyebrows so tightly knit he swears he sees a vein pop out on your forehead.

"You killed my sons."

"She did."

Your expression hardens. Powder shifts for a second and instantly your anger fades, you smooth out her bangs from her head and pat her back rhythmically.

"We share the blame, (Y/N). I didn't do this alone."

He sits on Vander's chair, reaching for his cigar. Vander's body hadn't even gone cold yet and here Silco was, already intending on desecrating his grave by smoking his cigars, as if intently chasing away the scent of Vander's smoking pipes.

You carefully move Powder, shushing her as she stirs and draping your blanket over hers to keep her warm. Silco watches, lighter in hand, poised to burn. You spin the chair, Vander's chair, and kick his legs apart.

He should be more cautious. Foxes are known to get close to their prey, associated with daggers and tricksters because unlike a wolf they couldn't use brute strength to bring down their enemies. You could choke him out, try to pin him down and reach for a pencil to shove through his eye.

But he uncrosses his legs and you sit on his lap. You reach for the box of matches, and strike it. Silco watches you watching him; the orange glow of the cigar not quite piercing through the darkness in your eyes.

"When Powder drinks from the bar, she has her own cup and metal straw. She likes to make gadgets, she gets restless sometimes and snoop around. She's smart, so you'll have your hands full."

Silco arches a brow, inhaling and exhaling out the smoke. Your eyes flutter, burning a bit but you can't even muster a single tear.

"You're offering to babysit?"

"She's my daughter."

You wrap your arms around his neck, your smudged and soot-stained face tucking itself to his neck. You could rip his throat out right now. But where would that leave you and Powder. Running from his men, constantly looking over your shoulder. No. You made your bed. You lay in it.

You said you wanted a better future for your kids. How could you rip Powder away from the only shot she has at being safe?

"I'd do anything for her." You shift your position, bringing your lips to his ears.

"I'll even keep your bed warm. I know you like how I do you."

Silco isn't stupid. He knows how dangerous you are; he hired you to infiltrate and gather information and for years you did just that. Now Vander was dead. You were as wicked as he was.

And now, you had every right to kill him next. So sleeping with you? Sharing a bed, and keeping you close where you'd have access to his operations. You subtly thrusting Powder into the fray, telling him about her needs and how to take care of her. Saying you'd stay if her safety was guaranteed.

This was a bad idea.

But Silco is intrigued. He'd thought you'd be yelling at him. Screaming bloody murder, wrap your teeth around his neck and try to tear it off.

Cunning little fox. You're planning something. Painful and meticulous. You'd make your revenge something people would whisper about as a warning.

He wants to see how far you're willing to go. He's glad that you share the same obsession with him as he does with you now.

Fine.

If the both of you were going to destroy each other, let it be known that Silco allowed it to happen in the first place; if you need to be broken down to be his, then he'll gladly place his chess pieces on the board with you.

Vander and Benzo's death shocks the undercity. You imagine people glancing at each other, confusion and lost written across their faces. Their protector was gone and in his place was the disgraced Silco.

But what truly sends people reeling is you standing besides him. You, Vander's boyfriend, the one his kids called dad among others. The slut that Vander had given a home too. Had given a job to and loved.

No, adored. He adored you, did you forget that?

He looked at you like you hung the damn moon in the sky.

How could you?

You fucking traitorous whore.

You had prepared for this. Steeled your emotions and walked among Silco's entourage with your head held high. Let them hate you, you know you deserve it. You expect the spit thrown your way, wiping it away with no emotion. You expect the harsh words, the cusses and threats.

But you're frozen in place when a man comes running at you, a knife held in his hand. You recognize him; a stall owner who Vander liked to do business with. Often trading fruit peels for this or that. He used them to do an array of things, though Vander recounts that he often used it as a way to smell fresh.

You smell it. That citrusy scent as he rears his hand back. "You whore!" he yells out.

Sevika kicks him square in the chest and as she leans too far back from the lack of balance (you think the loss of her arm was well-deserved) you keep her steady.

But it invigorates the crowd of grieving people. They throw things at you, trash and dirt at first. But then someone flings a brick and you barely dodge it in time before it smashed against your head.

Silco couldn't have people thinking that his entourage was weak.

So he brings you back to that walkway, the stalls now ransacked and the owners all kneeled before you. Hushed whispers come from the windows above you, children peeking curiously and mothers rushing them away.

These people were all Vander's friends. They did business with him, ate with him. You'd been there, eating with them. You glance away, sighing out a shuddering breath.

"Getting queasy?" Silco muses out.

"I've never been fond of butchers."

"Someone has to get their hands dirty. We can't all be expensive whores." You glare at him reproachfully.

"I want to leave."

"No."

Silco motions for Sevika and you scoff; "Look at you. Asking for another person to suck a John's cock for you. Expensive whore, is that what you called me?"

Silco gives you a tepid look, but then pulls out a dagger. He stares down at Vander's friends. Silco then stands behind them, bringing the blade to their throats. They look at you, nothing but pure hate in their eyes.

"You fucking traitor."

[rivatar]

The Heat

MDNI!🔞

Pairing: Aged¡Up¡Neteyam x Fem¡Omatikaya¡Reader

Synopsis: Reader goes into heat and Neteyam being the good boy he is helps her ofc

Warnings: SMUT, breeding, cussing

A/N: Well guys I couldn’t contain myself from writing a reader in heat fic and y’all wanted Neteyam to be the lucky man so here ya go!🤭 Also sorry it’s taken so long! Hope you enjoy and Happy Valentines Day 💌

W/c: 2.5k

The day started off like usual. You woke up and got ready for the day, fixing your everyday beads into your hair and freshening up with some some oils. You were still living in your parents hut despite their efforts to get you married off, so in turn you had to do the same amount of work they did, maybe even more since they were getting older.

You had a good bit of chores to do today — helping your mother weave a couple more loincloths for your family, helping your little brother practice his English, and the timeliest chore of all, going to the outskirts of the forest to collect yovo fruit.

You’d decided to leave that chore for last, going in the afternoon soon after you’d had lunch with some of your friends. You asked if any of them could go with you to keep you company and help, but they all had their own things to do for today.

And so you started on your way, basket in hand and some supplies to help you with the picking. You figure it shouldn’t take you anymore than about 2-3 hours so you could be back in time to help your mother prepare dinner.

…

You knew you were over halfway there, you recognized a little pond that you’ve mentally noted as a halfway mark whenever you’d had to do this before. There was no sign of any Na’vi out here which was a little nerve racking but you knew how to protect yourself if there was any danger to come, having your bow on your back and knife on your hip.

Then you suddenly felt a sting in your lower stomach. Your ears perked up at the feeling but you kept walking, assuming it would go away.

But then you felt your temperature rise, sweat starting to form on your hairline. Your hands were clammy and you felt a bit dizzy. This made your heart drop because now was not the time to fall ill, though you were confident someone would come find you if you weren’t back by eclipse.

You found a rock and decided to sit on it and try to catch your breath. You were trying not to freak out but you didn’t know what was wrong.

The stinging was getting worse and turned more into a sharp aching, making you wince at the uncomfortableness. Your breath was quickly picking up and your mouth went dry.

You opted to kneel onto the ground, hunching over in pain. And then that’s when you realized — you must be in heat. These were all the tell-tale signs of a heat, which you had never experienced before.

You mentally cursed at the horrible timing. You knew you needed the Tsahik to help you but here you were, stranded in the deep forest.

It was rapidly getting more intense and you were losing all your thoughts. Your brain and body was turning to mush and your pupils dilated, you knew your control and rationality was slipping away.

Trying to find relief, you tugged off your loincloth and jeweled top. It cooled you down for a second, but only for the desperate need to keep spreading more intensely all throughout your body.

You knew what you needed and it was all that consumed your mind. You were no stranger to sex, you’ve had a few men. But this wasn’t about fun, casual sex — you needed to be bred and you felt it deep in your aching womb, as much as you would normally hate to admit that. But now you had no shame and were only focused on getting your sweet release.

…

Neteyam was out on patrol for the day and he didn’t mind this job. It consisted of walking near the borders and all around the uncommon areas in the forest. Usually he ran into no problems, so he didn’t complain about this duty. It was actually quite peaceful as it allowed him to be alone with his thoughts as he was out walking, still on high alert nonetheless.

He was just about to take a break from walking and dip his feet into a little pond he spotted when he smelled something unfamiliar. He didn’t recognize the scent but it was so good. His nose twitched as he tried to follow the sweet smell and then he heard a high pitch whine, like someone was in distress.

All his senses on alert, he carefully followed these distractions. And that was when he saw you.

He stumbled back in shock as he took in the scene before him. You were naked and drenched in sweat, straddling a large rock and grinding mercilessly on it, covering it in your juices and sweat. You were whining so much it looked like you were crying, clearly being tortured. And he recognized you, he knew your name and would see you out occasionally but that was about it.

As he was trying to process what his eyes were seeing, your scent crept up into his nose, even stronger and heavy in the air. Your eyes were screwed shut so you hadn’t noticed him yet until you smelled him—earthy and musky like a man.

Your eyes flashed open and head snapped to find him standing, a small whine escaping your lips.

“Y/n?” He breathed out shakily, as if he couldn’t believe it was you who was really in front of him doing this.

“Neteyam!” You shouted in relief. You were completely gone at this point.

His ears shot up at the sound of his name, though concern filled his eyes at your state.

“I need your help,” you cried, almost sobbing right then.

His eyes looked around still trying to process it all. He realized you were in heat and needed to see the Tsahik so she could give you medicines to ease the pain until it passed. But Eywa, you looked so good. After all he was only a man and had his limits too, even as the golden child. He gathered his thoughts and cleared his throat.

“Y/n, you poor girl,” he said sympathetically, “I’m so sorry this has happened out here. Let me carry you back to the tsahik, okay?”

“Nooo! Can’t wait! I need you to help me, you know what I need!” You whined to him.

He really did feel bad for you, you looked pitiful. And your scent was still continuing to attack his nostrils, getting him high on you.

You weakly crawled over to him and clung onto his leg. “Please!! I’ll do anything! I’m sorry- but please just help me!!” You laid your head tenderly against his calf as your body was slightly shaking and planted a kiss on his leg.

His eyes grew wide at your display of submission and neediness. You were breaking him quickly. He prided himself on his self-control and discipline, having been able to always do the right thing. But you were making him hungry with desire, he wanted nothing more than to indulge in you and give you everything you wanted right now. But what would his or your parents think? He needed to calm you down and get you to someone else before he crumbled completely. He swallowed hard and took a deep breath.

“Sweet girl,” he cooed softly looking down at you, though his eyebrows were scrunched up and jaw was clenching from his own internal war of trying to resist you. “I know it hurts but I can run fast, let me get you to help!” He reasoned and tugged your arms.

“Teyam NO! I need to be fucked right now!” Now you really were crying in desperation.

He finally lost his restraint at your vulgar plead. He crouched down to your level and held your face gently in his hands, seriousness sketched on his face.

“You’re not in your right mind,” he shook his head and you felt a pang of disappoint for a moment, “but I will help you. As you wish” he whispered tenderly.

You were ecstatic that he finally agreed. You nodded your head vigorously and pounced on him, losing your patience. He grunted as you both fell back and you landed on him. You ripped off his loincloth. You were not yourself at all but this wasn’t registering in your brain. You just knew you needed dick, now.

His pretty face looked surprised and taken aback by your straightforwardness but it was quickly replaced by his own desperation to have you.

You grabbed his dick and grinned from ear to ear, you were impressed with his size and couldn’t wait to have him in you. He propped himself on his elbows to watch you. You eagerly positioned him to your entrance, ready to lower yourself.

“Shit baby, just wanna get right to it, huh?” He commented and let out a weak chuckle, though he wasn’t really complaining.

“Mhmm, can’t wait Teyam” you whimpered.

He nodded his head in understanding and placed his hands on your hips to encourage you on. “Go on, sevin” he urged you. He knew you were using him but he didn’t mind and wanted to help you.

You sank down on him, marveling in the sensation. His cock gave the perfect amount of drag on your walls as you went lower and lower until your hips met. Both your jaws were slack and he groaned at the feeling.

“So fucking tight and wet” he grunted, “you’re gonna drive me crazy”

You moaned in response and tightened around him. He didn’t fail to notice you squeezing him after he spoke.

“You like what I’m sayin, huh? You like being talked to?”

“Yes, please!”

“Start riding me, take whatever you need.”

You wasted no time in obliging his request. You sat up and slammed back all the way down, taking all of him once again. You moaned in unison at the sweet friction.

Picking up the pace, you began bouncing on him. You planted your hands onto his chest for stability and he grabbed your wrists to hold them in place.

“F-fuck! Mmmm yeah, you’re doing so good, y/n” he praised you, urging you on.

You were a moaning mess above him, not even able to form words at the moment. His cockhead was hitting your cervix each time and the pleasure was consuming every nerve in your body. It was all you could think about.

You were creaming all over him, it coated his lower stomach and thighs, making unholy noises. You could feel your release approaching and he could feel his too, as his dick began to twitch inside of you.

“Teyam! Gonna- gonna cum!!” You announced to him.

“I know babe I know, do it!! I am too- shit!” He squeezed his eyes shut, his orgasm overtaking his body.

As soon as you felt his seed shooting into you and heard his low whimpers of pleasure, that was all you needed to get to completion too.

“Ahh! Fuck, fuckkkk!” You screamed so loud they could probably hear you back at the village. You convulsed around his length, milking him dry. You rode out your high on him, not even caring that you were overstimulating him as he was writhing on the ground below you.

You slumped onto him after you got what you wanted. Your bodies were sweating and slippery against each other, hearts pounding and panting into each others ears.

After a few seconds, you still felt the aching in your womb wanting more. You rose up to look at him and try to beg for more, hoping he would grant your request.

“You had enough?” He asked. He looked pussy drunk and you loved that it was yours that got him this way.

“No.. need more” you cried shamelessly and harshly sniffed his scent in like it was a drug.

“Okay sweetie,” he began as he secured you in his arms and rose up to his feet effortlessly. Eywa, he was so strong. “Let me fuck you properly. My way.”

He backed you up against a tree, still holding you up with his big, bulky arms. You knew he was muscular of course but you had never been this close to him. You went from barely being acquaintances to getting real close, real fast. It definitely would never be the same after this.

His length was already rock hard again, no doubt because of your strong pheromones suffocating him and putting him under your spell. By Eywa, you were making him an animal too. He wanted to make you cum over and over again, screaming his name.

He grabbed his dick with one hand and slid it across your abused, puffy cunt. He loved the sight and wanted this moment etched in his mind forever.

“So, so pretty y/n. You should’ve let me do this a long time ago. Guess I didn’t catch your eye” he stated jokingly.

“You’re the olo’eyktan’s son.. I figured you’d never have time for someone ordinary like me”

“Ordinary?? You just made me cum embarrassingly soon, I think that’s rather impressive and special” he chuckled. You laughed too. Gah, he was so handsome.

Bringing you out of your daze, he pushed his dick inside you. You were still wet with yours and his release so it glided easily. You instantly let out a long moan at being full of him again.

His ears were peeled back and he was biting his lip to try to suppress his own sounds of satisfaction. He was definitely pussy whipped.

He started his pace and it simply felt like heaven. Your pussy was already more sensitive from previously orgasming so the pleasure was intensified and downright addicting.

You were moaning and whimpering incoherently and he was watching your perfect, round tits bounce like he was in a trance.

“Damnit girl” he gritted through his teeth, struggling to keep any sort of composure “You’re so good. Doing so good for me”

He finally took the opportunity to kiss you on the lips. He was warm and sweet on your tongue, you let him take over your mouth and moaned through the kiss. You wanted to scream from the pleasure but he made you take his kiss.

You were getting near and he could tell by the way you squeezed him. He wanted to cum with you so he started jackhammering up into you, holding onto you so you wouldn’t fall out of his grasp from the aggressive thrusts flinging you about.

“Ohhhh! My Eywa! It’s too much!” You cried out, words broken up slightly from the air getting knocked out of you.

“You can take it! Cmon take it for me, sevin!” he pleaded desperately with you.

You came undone over him and shook violently. The pleasure coursed through every inch of you and you cried out his name over and over again. His name on your pretty lips was more than enough to push him over as well. He let out his load into you and pushed it all the way back to your cervix.

He crashed onto you and you were squished between the tree and his heavy, brawny body. You didn’t mind the squeeze though, you loved how huge he was and how small he made you feel.

He was lowly humming in satisfaction. Weakly, he lifted his head up to look at you, you were so close you were nose-to-nose. Both your expressions were of being fucked out and pure bliss.

His hooded eyes filled with lust searched your eyes. “Another round?”

…………….

Taglist: @professional-yapper @neteyamssyulang @nonamevenus

[thatsmzbitchtoyou]

Emerald Hallow Chapter 1

Summary: Steve Rogers wants to move on.  He wants to forget Peggy, and dive into the 21st century.  But this man of the past doesn’t know how to navigate being an Alpha in a modern world of skittish Omegas.  He prides himself on his self control, never wanting to harm or scare them, until something just smells too damn good…and he’s not the only one who notices.  

**plus size reader 

Warnings: abo!dynamics, smutty smut smut, name calling, eventual threesome, voyeurism, rough sex

Next chapter

Steve prided himself on his self control. He was a Beta before the super soldier serum, and when his body went through the transformation so did his classification. Not only did he have to learn how to operate his new body but as a new Alpha he had to learn how to handle the intense emotions and instincts that came with it. He’d been able to work through most of it without endangering any Omegas along the way. Anytime a moment of weakness chipped at his psyche the words of Dr. Erskine would rattle his brain: “…you must promise me that you will stay who you are. Not a perfect soldier. But a good man.” Good men, good Alphas, did not attack or take what they wanted from others. Steve was well aware of the plight of Omegas in the world. If there was one thing that had stayed consistent throughout his long life it was that Omegas were still considered “less” by many, something to be bred and fulfill Alphas’ needs. He didn’t feel this way, but knew many others did.

After returning the Infinity stones he had gone to see Peggy in the past for closure, but did not stay. As much as he wanted to, he just couldn’t. He loved her, but she was also an Alpha, and same classification couples never worked out.  Bucky needed him, and a promise of “’til the end of the line” was a promise. He had helped transition Sam into the Captain America role and quickly retired, only advising on missions rather than taking the lead. He tried to reintegrate back into regular civilian life, finding his next adventure. He wanted to move on from Peggy and find an Omega to settle down and have a family with.

So far he had no luck. He had started going by his middle name, Grant, and had grown out his beard and hair again so he wasn’t as recognizable as “Captain America” anymore. The dates he’d gone on had been unsuccessful. Omegas were hard to come by nowadays, and to find one willing to even go on a date was even harder. He felt like he was being a gentleman, not expecting anything from them other than to get to know them and see if it was worth pursuing, but he could feel the anxiety and tension dripping from their scents every time. He couldn’t blame them, but it also made him feel like the magic or allure of a great romance that he was looking for to replace his feelings for Peggy was a pipe dream.

One late Autumn night as he left Bucky’s apartment and headed home he smelled something that made him skid to a stop. Amongst the carved pumpkins and crisp Autumn air was something tantalizing, mouth-watering, and made the hair on the back of his neck raise in anticipation. His body moved towards the smell without him even realizing, his nose held high as he followed the scent down a block and into an old fashioned jazz club. It reminded him of the old dance halls of the 1940s, a live band playing on a stage with tables skirting the walls, making a small circle in the middle for couples to dance. There were vintage Halloween decorations lining the walls and the bar.  He made a mental note to tell Bucky about this place as the scent grew stronger and he blindly walked toward the stage.

“My lovelies!” A drag queen’s deep voice boomed into the microphone. She was dressed in an extravagant vampire costume, and as Steve looked around he noticed almost everyone was dressed in some type of Halloween themed costume or vintage clothes.  “Thank you for coming to tonight’s Autumn Jazz Fest!  Last but certainly not least, is our very own…Emerald Hallow!” The drag queen gave a great flourish with her arm and the curtain behind her opened to reveal the singer. Steve’s heart stuttered as the Alpha in him awoke. She was the scent he followed.  An unmated Omega.  The singer was short and plus size, her voluptuous curves slightly jiggling as she sauntered up to the vintage looking microphone.  She wore a long, flowy, shimmering velvet black dress with sheer lace sleeves that opened wide at her wrists with tassels swaying as she swung her arms, tattoos peeking out from the lace.  The neckline plunged down deep between her large breasts, giving the audience quite the view.  Her long nails were pointy and painted black, gently twisting the tassels as she adjusted the microphone to her height.  She had dyed emerald green hair that was long and finger-waved with two large victory rolls atop.  She wore gold earrings that had deep red hearts with what looked like blood dripping from them, black lipstick and sharp cat-eye eyeliner.  The black lipstick made her teeth look striking as she smiled seductively when the audience clapped for her.  Steve swore under his breath.  She was one of the most beautiful things he had ever seen. 

“Happy almost-Halloween, my pretties!” she greeted them, some people in the audience whooping and hollering for her.  Steve could feel a growl rumble in his chest at the attention she was getting from others, and mentally chastised himself for losing his composure.  “Would you like to hear some spooky tunes?”  Some more clapping and whooping made her smile wider.  “Okay, okay, I’ll give it to you…so needy,” she teased the audience, winking at someone off to the side.  Steve moved closer to the stage, just off to the side as the band behind her started playing.  She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, opening them again as her body started to move to the beat.  “They say that I’m a witch, and that I weave a spell.  Well…”

Emerald danced with her hips and shoulders like singers of old would.  Her scent became heavier to Steve as she did something she obviously loved, and it made his Alpha instincts scream at him to claim her.  He sat himself in a chair at one of the nearest tables, needing to hide his growing erection.

She held out the last note, her voice ringing out as the band hit a big chord at the end and she raised her arms.  The audience cheered loudly, the couples who had been dancing stopped to join in on the applause.  Emerald bowed and acknowledged the band behind her.  Steve clapped and watched her closely.   He was clocking all the Alphas in the audience, making note of the ones who were unmated and watching her like he was.  It made him feel like a creep, but something deep within him was not willing to just walk out and go home.  He was stuck to the spot, and would wait all night if he had to just to get a moment with her.  

She sang a few more songs then suddenly pulled out a chair from behind the piano.  “I’ve got one more for you tonight,” she said.  The audience whined loudly.  “Aaaww, are you gonna miss me?” she teased, sticking her lip out sadly.  She smirked as she set the chair in the middle of the stage and took the microphone out of the stand to freely walk around.  “I’m gonna need a big, strong Alpha volunteer,” she said in a low, seductive voice.  As her eyes swept the crowd multiple loud voices yelled out, hands raising and Alphas standing up from their chairs.  Steve stayed seated, desperately wanting her to choose him but not wanting to come off that way.  He decided to let his instincts take over for just a moment and let off a pheromone scent of himself towards her.  As her eyes continued to look out at the crowd they subtly widened and her back stiffened as her eyes instantly went to him.  Her eyes flashed as she gazed at him, and her smirk deepened.  Steve felt like the air between them was buzzing as he held her gaze, not daring to look away.

“You,” she pointed at him and then curled her finger, gesturing to him to come up.  Steve slowly got up and followed the stairs up to the stage.  There was a chorus of disappointed noises mixed with clapping from the audience as he approached her.  “Take a seat, handsome,” she said, patting the top of the chair.  Steve sat on the chair and looked up at her, memorizing every feature of her face.  “What’s your name?” she asked, standing closer to him and holding the microphone to his face.

“S–Grant,” Steve said, clearing his throat after nearly slipping up on his name.

Emerald eyed him but her smile never faltered.  “Grant.  Everybody say ‘Hello Grant!’”  She held the microphone out to the audience who chanted back at her in greeting him.  “And what do you do, Grant?”

“Consulting,” Steve said automatically, a polite smile on his face as he warred with himself not to reach out and touch her.

“How vague…” Emerald said cheekily, raising her eyebrows and making the crowd laugh.  “It’s alright, keep your secrets, handsome,” she said as she walked behind him then ran her hand over his shoulder and down his chest, her chin resting on his opposite shoulder, making them cheek to cheek.  “I like a man who is mysterious…” 

Steve let out a shuddering breath as the jittery energy he felt from her touching him flowed through his veins.  His shoulders and chest felt like they were doused with ice water where she touched him, and his cheek warmed as he blushed with her so close.  The Alpha howled at him to take her, right there in front of everyone, making his hands shake as he quickly folded them together and covered his crotch with his entwined fists.

“Can I sing this last song to you, Grant?” she said, her lips slightly grazing his ear, her hot breath making him shiver.  Steve didn’t trust his voice so he slightly looked towards her and nodded.  “Thank you,” she said, then moved away and turned to the band.  “Shall we, lovies?”

“We shall!” the band called back to her, then counted themselves in.  The melody started into a song Steve actually recognized from some music Sam had recommended to him.

Emerald walked towards the edge of the stage where Steve had walked up and then turned towards him sharply.  “Well it’s a marvelous night for a moondance with the stars up above in your eyes,” she sang, her shoulders keeping the beat.  “A fantabulous night to make romance ‘neath the cover of October skies,” she continued, twirling around and turning towards the bass player behind her, giving her a wink before facing Steve again.  “And all the leaves on the trees are falling to the sound of the breezes that blow.  You know I'm tryin' to please to the calling of your heartstrings that play soft and low.”  She stepped slowly towards him, her eyes never leaving his face.  “And the night’s magic seems to whisper and hush.  You know the soft moonlight seems to shine in your blush!”  The band suddenly picked up, the sound swelling around Steve.  Emerald smiled widely.  “Can I just have one more moondance with you, my love?”  She quickly closed the distance between them and leaned down, her hand reaching out and cupping his jaw, making him move toward her.  Steve’s eyes widened.  “Can I just make some more romance with a-you, my love?”  She leaned forward as she held his face and nuzzled her nose against his nose.  As the chorus ended she released him and turned, jutting her hips towards him as they rocked to the beat.

“Well I wanna make love to you tonight, I can’t wait til the morning has come,” she sang, looking over her shoulder at him.  He shifted in the seat, his pants feeling even more tight.  “And I know now the timing is just right and straight into my arms you will run,” she walked behind him again, her hand doing as it had done before but this time running down his arm and squeezing his bicep.  “And when you come my heart will be waiting to make sure that you’re never alone.”  She walked around him again until she faced him, then sank down into his lap.  “There and then all my dreams will come true dear, there and then I will make you my own.”  Steve’s hands gripped her hip and her knee to keep her planted on his lap, his hands still shaking at the close proximity and at getting to finally touch her even just a little.  She wrapped her free arm around his shoulder to keep herself upright.

“And every time I touch you, you just tremble inside,” her nails gently scraped against the scent gland on his neck, making him gasp and his mouth drop open as he watched her.  “And I know how much you want me that,” she winked at him, bringing her face slightly closer to his, “you can’t hide.”

Steve’s eyebrows knitted together.  He was sure his face was showing nothing but pure desire right now, and couldn’t find it in himself to care.  His grip on her tightened and he swallowed thickly.

“Can I just have one more moondance with you, my love?”  Her fingers moved up and ran through his hair, scratching his scalp, causing his eyelids to flutter shut at the massage.  “Can I just make some more romance with a-you…” she held the note out as she pulled him closer, this time making them nose to nose.  The audience was whooping and hollering again, a chant of “Kiss him!” coming through the crowd as the music paused to build tension.  She stared Steve down, her eyes flickering to his lips once then back up to his eyes.  Steve was breathing heavily, waiting to see what she would do.  After a long beat she dipped her head and kissed the side of his mouth, just out of reach of his lips.  The audience was a mix of cheers and disappointed groans as she pulled away and licked her lips as she looked at him again before lifting the microphone back up to her mouth.  “My love,” she sang the last line softly, and as the band finished with a jazzy ending she rested her forehead against his forehead as she caught her breath.  Steve didn’t want it to end, holding her firmly against him as the music ended and the audience applause nearly deafened him.  He didn’t want this bubble to burst, this magical moment to end, and yet his hands slipped away when she shifted to stand from his lap.  

Emerald adjusted her dress and stood then took his hand and helped lift him from the chair, holding his hand up in hers high and then gesturing with their joined hands to bow.  Steve bowed with her and plastered a polite smile on his face as he watched her smile widen at the crowd.  “Whoo, is it hot in here or is it just me?” She joked, making everyone laugh again as they continued to clap.  “Everybody give it up for our lucky man, Grant!”  Another round of applause erupted as Steve nodded, a shy smile pulling at his mouth.  She pulled his hand towards her and opened her arms for a hug.  Steve happily ducked down to her embrace, his arms resting on her lower back as her free hand gripped his shoulder.  Her face slightly twisted and her lips were by his ear again.  “Meet me at the back door, ten minutes,” she whispered.  Steve nodded minutely before pulling away.  She released him and clapped for him as well as he waved a hand and stepped down from the stage.

As the drag queen who hosted came back out and closed the show Steve grabbed a shot at the bar, paid, then left through the front door.  He quickly rounded the building, down the alley, until he reached the back of the building.  He found the back door and leaned up against the wall next to it to wait.  He didn’t know what would happen next, but if she wanted to see him afterwards then the magical moment must have meant something to her, too.  Eight minutes went by until the door swung open and his green haired beauty emerged.

Her eyes quickly found him and she smirked.  “Grant,” she greeted him, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Emerald,” Steve greeted her back, pushing himself off the wall.  “Though I’m guessing that’s not your name.”

“You guessed right,” she said.  “Though it seems we’re both using different names, Steve Rogers.”

Steve’s eyes widened and his smile fell.  He quickly cleared his throat and looked down.  “That obvious, huh?”

“Probably not to the average person,” she said as she took a step toward him.  “But most people haven’t had a grandparent that was a huge fan of Captain America like I did, who took me to the Smithsonian any chance he got to educate me about the great Steve Rogers and the Howling Commandos.  I’d recognize those eyes anywhere,” she quirked an eyebrow at him.  “Though I have to say, I like the longer hair and beard look.  Makes you much more ruggedly handsome.”

Steve’s smile returned and he blushed at her compliment.  “Ruggedly handsome?”

“Oh yes,” she smiled widely at him.  She took another step toward him, making her look up at him.  She analyzed his face for a moment before she sighed heavily.  “Dirty trick you played in there, using your scent on me,” she said quietly, her smile falling.

Steve’s eyebrows raised in surprise.  “Oh, um…I’m sorry,” he said quickly, embarrassed that although it worked in getting him noticed and chosen, she was obviously not happy with him about it.  

“Hm,” she hummed, looking him over.  “I was going to choose you regardless, you know?” she said, reaching a hand out and running her fingers over the lining of his coat.  “I scented you from the moment you walked in,” she said, her fingers sliding up towards his collar.  “A Manhattan cocktail, with an undertone of sandalwood and amber,” she met his gaze again.  “And a hint of petrichor.”

“Petrichor?” Steve asked, his eyes never leaving her fingers that gripped his collar lightly.

“The smell after a long awaited rain,” she whispered.  She pulled him down by his collar and guided his face towards her neck.  Steve’s arms wrapped around her like he was hugging her, his grip pulling her flush against him as he nuzzled his nose against her scent gland inhaling deeply.  He felt like he was skipping a lot of steps in the process.  Scenting another person was extremely personal, and not something done by strangers like this.  “You obviously came here for this,” she said as he rubbed the tip of his nose against her neck.

Steve groaned, getting drunk off the scent that nearly drove him crazy enough to lose control.  She gave it up so easily to him.  “Fuck…” he whispered as his tongue licked along the gland, nipping lightly at her skin.  Her fingers tightened around his coat, a soft whimper falling from her lips.  “I couldn’t tell what it was, but…” he sniffed again, his eyes rolling.  “Bergamot, rose, and sandalwood.  Like the perfumes I used to smell back in the day,” he said as his lips traveled to her jaw and then kissed her cheek softly.  “With a hint of ocean air,” he smirked at her as he pulled away to look at her.  Her eyes were hooded as she looked back up at him, her mouth open as she breathed heavily.  “Your name?” he asked.

She huffed a silent laugh as she smiled.  “Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Y/N,” Steve repeated it, liking the way it felt on his tongue.  

Her smile tightened.  “We should slow down.”

“We should,” Steve agreed, but didn’t let go of her.

She pulled away a little, which almost felt like a punch to his gut.  Y/N looked up at him and mischievously grinned.  “How about you take me out and show me some of that old school charm?  And we’ll see where that leads us.”

Steve chuckled at that, his smile widening.  “You took the words right out of my mouth.  Though it sounds much more smooth coming from you.”

“I can be smooth when I wanna be,” she giggled.  She gave him another look over then stepped back, reaching for and holding one of his hands while fishing out her phone from her coat pocket.  She unlocked the phone and handed it to him.  Steve quickly pulled his phone out and gave it to her as well and they exchanged numbers.  

“I’ll call you,” Steve said as he made sure to save her contact information.

“You better,” Y/N smirked.  She pulled him down by his collar again and kissed the side of his mouth, making him growl impatiently.  It only made her laugh as she stepped out of his reach.  “See you around, Steve,” she said his name in her seductive voice that she used on stage.  

Steve sighed heavily and composed himself.  “See you soon, Y/N.” She walked to the back door and knocked in a pattern, then the bass player walked out, giving her and Steve a once over and scoffing before walking towards one of the cars parked along the back alley.  Y/N waved to Steve then followed the band member, who drove off with her.  Steve watched until she was out of sight then laughed to himself.  This is going to be interesting.

This is the "dirtiest" fic I've written so far. I'm not usually a #stucky fan, but I thought I'd give a crack at it. Hope y'all like it!

[xylianasblog]

Playful touches

Pairings: So’lek x FemHuman reader

Summary: Admiring the new male afar can only get you so far, until you start picking and teasing.

Warnings: MDNI, tail play, mutual masturbation, external masturbation

꒦꒷❀꒷꒦ ❀✿❀꒦꒷❀꒷꒦DMNI ꒦꒷❀꒷꒦❀✿❀ ꒦꒷❀꒷꒦

It was no secret, well at least to yourself that you admired this brooding Na’vi male. Something about him just drew you in, was it the deepness of his voice? The way he commanded attention from everyone even the humans in the camp.

You were only coming from another camp to help with resources and to give aid to the humans who were hurt or sick, you aren’t mean to stay.

That definitely didn’t stop you from speaking and bothering him at every chance you got. You were so that your presence bothered him, being a human and all but you didn’t care not one bit. You knew how sensitive a Na’vi tail could be, everyone had different ways they responded. Yet he didn’t seem like he ever reacted.

You hand tugged gently on his tail, your fingers gently tracing along the length of it until he moved it away. He didn’t glance at you, not one single look or reaction and that made you frown. You peeked around his body, your eyes trialing over the vest and dog tails until they reached his face. His plump lips set in a scowl yet nothing else, his eyes trained on anything that wasn’t you.

It had been a few weeks yet still no reaction from the male, your touches alone his tail became more persistent. Lingering touches that started at the base of his tail, your fingers sliding along its length until he moved. Each time resulted in a barely noticeable shiver from him and a scowl on his handsome face.

One day you were out near the river, it was a lazy day for you. Having the chance to get away from the hustle and bustle of the camp, the air around you quiet as you watched the fish swim.

“Why are you always so persistent tiny human?” Your eyes widened the moment you heard his voice. “So touchy, do you humans always behave like this?” You said nothing but that only gave him reason to continue, not aware that each time he spoke he took steps closer and closer to you.

“Why must you pester me, I have seen your looks. You are not very discreet.” The tone of his voice sent shivers down your spine. “What is it that you want? Tugging and touching on my tail, as if you wish to be bred.”

You couldn’t find the words to say as you stared at him, eyes trained on his face. His gaze was hard yet full of lust, the needy to have you bent over growing. He was close enough now, crouched down before you, thumb and finger holding onto your chin as he tilted your head back. His gaze held yours until you found yourself face down and ass up, your pussy exposed for him.

His groan was deep, the sound itself felt like it caused your entire body to vibrate. You rested there only adjusting to a more comfortable position as you felt the length of his cock pressed against your slightly slick folds.

“I will not use your tiny body yet” he grumbled just as a small sigh left your lips. You felt his hands rubbing your ass in gentle circles before his hands made themselves home on your hips.

The slow glide of his length against your folds had your hand flying up to your mouth to hold muffle your soft little moans, his quiet grunt and the throb of his cock had your body craving to be filled. “So’lek please..” you whined. “You do not have to be gentle; I know I am small, but you can do as you please.”

You heard his grunt as he continued to thrust the length of his cock along your folds, your body shuddering each time his tip brushed and rubbed along your clit. Your soft cries the only things his ears focused on; his eyes trained on the way your body willingly submitted to him.

“I will play with you as I please, I will train you.” He adjusted himself so the tip of his throbbing cock was pressed against your entrance. “Teach you to behave for me. To take all of me.” He leaned down nuzzling into you as he continued speaking, thrusting forward just an inch so the tip slipped inside. “Do you understand?”

Taglist: @pandoraslxna @neteyamsoare @hiddensnow1 @criticallybella @sunfyresrider @neteyamsyawntu @tiredmamaissy @headsincloud9 @etherialblackrose @strongheartneteyam @blue-slxt @shit-i-say-shit-i-think @justcaptainnoodles @Neteyamyawne @erenjaegerwifee @oakbuggy @hotdsworld @itchaboi-itchyboy @luvv4j4ybe11

[nevertheless-moving]

Lost Luke AU Part 5

Lost Luke AU (these are not in chronological order)

Part One - - - Part Two - - - Part Three - - - Part Four

meta , dramatic snippet , Is this how Qui-Gon felt on Genosis

amusingly and paradoxically, Luke’s presence in the lost luke au serves as evidence to the Jedi High Council that Anakin doesn’t have an attachment issue, ultimately leading to his knighting. The thought being:

Anakin had visions for a month about his family being in danger that he set aside to do his duty

it’s not until Padme insisted they go to Tatooine that he does anything about them

(of course Padme takes the blame for going to Tatooine)

when he gets to Tatooine, he finds out that his twin brother had already saved their mother, but that his adoptive family had already been killed

“Spoke of your mother, you have. Had a brother, you never mentioned.

“On Tatooine,” Luke says softly.

[Luke is a far better liar than his father, in that he know that the best lies are often the truth from a certain point of view]

“On Tatooine, pregnant slaves don’t receive medical care, not unless they’re being...deliberately bred.”

A wince in the force. Jedi are...Jedi never forget about the slave empire choking the Republic. Never. Not anymore than you forget about the horrors of your world, and in many ways they are far, far more cognizant.

But moments after being forced to choose between the evils of leading a slave army or letting a slave army fight without them, the collective guilt about slavery in general is just a tad raw.

“An owner wouldn’t know about twins until their born. Births are attended, so infants can be chipped immediately, but no one sticks around for the afterbirth. If the second twin is born long enough after...there are freedom networks.”

Here, Luke straightened up proudly. “I am the firstborn Skywalker in my family, and although we never met, I grew up knowing that I was free because of Anakin before me.”

“We never met before a few days ago, but I knew he had to be free, and that had to be enough,” Anakin added. (it’s true enough, if said hesitantly—Anakin always knew he’d see his mother again, and he always knew his son would be freeborn)

So! The council concludes that Anakin was only was drawn back to his bio family where his family needed it, not where Anakin needed it, which satisfies some more than others, depending on their definition of attachment

(ask any council of twelve a question and you’ll come away with thirteen answers)

Obi-Wan, who in between the Battle of Genosis and this meeting got read in on Luke’s whole...everything....is a little more doubtful, but needs must in a time of war and soon enough Anakin is knighted and Luke is employed by the temple’s newly formed military affairs division

Earlier Conversation:

Luke: We have to tell him!

Anakin: But you told me that one of his student’s became a Sith Lord!

Luke: But you can’t seriously think—

Anakin: No, You don’t understand—that means that his student is in the temple, which means that his Sith Master is probably also in the temple.

Luke: Oh kriff, you really think so?

Anakin: the only way the Jedi could’ve been so completely destroyed is if there was a traitor from within, maybe more than one!

Luke: okay, we won’t tell anyone else, but it’s Ben—I mean Obi-Wan—we have to tell him! He’s the only person in my whole life who told me the truth about how incredible you are!

Anakin: Oh—I uh, well! I guess when you put it that way, I—look, it’s just—I don’t want to make him sad, and I also don’t want him to be dissappointed in me for, you know.

Luke: For what?

Anakin: Well, ah, strictly speaking Jedi aren’t supposed to...

Luke: Aren’t supposed to what?

Anakin: uh. havechildren.

Luke: ...oh.

Anakin: yeah

Luke: ... are you disappointed

Anakin: What! No, no, force no, I’m thrilled! I always wanted kids! I just don’t know Obi-Wan’s going to take it

Luke: I mean, he did offer to train me, just because he knew you, and he wanted me to have your lightsaber, and he said a bunch of really nice things about you. so in the grand scheme of things, I don’t think it bothered him that much.

Anakin: Well, as nice as that is to hear, he also voluntarily lived on Tatooine, so, you know. Questionable sanity.

[atlas-nsfw]

Good luck with your final papers! When you’re done and have time, can I request an afab!reader x unicorn with breeding kink and first time/defloration?

I know virginity is a ridiculous social construct, but I was thinking about the archetypal unicorn trait where they can only be tamed or approached by virgins. Plus the thought of having to take a massive horse cock for your first time is both terrifying and tantalizing.

Also, random question… do any of the humans with womb tattoos on the ark enjoy being bred, or actively go out of their way to be impregnated by monsters?

🪢

Most kinks aren’t based on reality anyway so virginity kinks aren’t really different! Virginity and monsters are both made up and what kind of hypocrite would I be if I turned down one and not the other.

As for your question: it varies from person to person! The tattoo helps numb pain and make the tattoo holder more easily aroused but it isn’t flat out mind control. Some people arrive and their first monster experience and birth are so startling that they end up hating it. Other humans really enjoy themselves, usually because their first time with a monster is really good. The main scary part is not understanding the languages of the monsters (as well as the less sapient monsters and the monsters who just use humans as cum dumps and dildos). Between you and me, Lamia are probably the best monsters to end up with. They keep as many humans as they want and spoil them the whole time!

Now for your afab!reader x m!unicorn! As expected it takes place on the Monster Ark. Cw: virginity kink, dubcon, non-sapient monster, hypnosis

You awoke in a warm, shaded grove on a bed on moss. A brook babbled nearby and several large, moss covered stones rested nearby. They appeared to be part of a ruin. Your first thought was this must have been a dream. Why else would you be naked and out in the wilderness? Furthermore, there was a strange glowing tattoo on your stomach that you absolutely did not remember getting.

You looked to the sound of the water and saw it.

The unicorn stood on slender, elegant legs, white fur glistening with an unnatural glimmer. Its large brown eyes looked into you and you felt at peace in its gaze. You felt no fear as it approached. Instead, you felt a warmth blooming in your core.

It leaned its head down, the tip of its horn touching your forehead. You let out a sigh, utterly relaxed. You limbs

Moved on their own, causing you to stand and walk with the unicorn to the ruins. There, you laid down on a narrow stone. Your head felt pleasantly fuzzy as you spread your legs. You remained content even as the beast stood over you, the flat head of its cock poking your virgin cunt.

It was only when it pushed inside you, breaking and spreading you with its inhuman girth, did the daze lift. You gasped, the pain too intense to even muster a scream. You clawed at the moss, unable to move with the massive cock speared inside you. It pushed further and further as tears filled your eyes. For the first time, you considered it not a dream.

“Oh dear!” A soft voice chirped in your ear. You turned your head to see a little naked person with dragonfly wings. A pixie. He grinned at you. “You look to be in pain! Don’t worry. I can help!”

“G-get it off,” you rasped.

“No, no. He has chosen you! But I can help with the pain until your tattoo kicks in!” The pixie beamed, rubbing his hands together before blowing on them.

Sparkling dust blew across your face and you shut your eyes. The pain evaporated. All that was left was a wonderful, full filling.

The unicorn dragged his cock most of the way out, until just his head filled you, before slamming back in to start an intense pace. This abuse of your insides should have been excruciating but instead of cries of pain, only moans of pleasure came out. It felt so good to give your virginity to this monster. All of the reasons you thought of holding onto it before were meaningless. You loved this thing and its cock.

Thoughts of all else fell away as you begged, not for it to stop. No, you begged for more, you begged for the monster for fill your womb with its seed, you begged to be knocked up by this strange creature. It could have your virginity, your body. It could use you whenever it wanted. You would give it foals. All you wanted in return was this pleasure forever.

Taglist: @leitor-sonolento, @kittycatkandies , @ren-lives-here , @tiredsleepyhead

[kteezy997]

Can I request some Hal content 🥺🥺🥺🥺

Perhaps the reader is a lady in waiting or something and her and Hal have a forbidden relationship and the reader gets pregnant and you go from there. Agnst. Fluffy. I love your writing!!🥰🥰

The Lady in Waiting: Part One//King Henry V

Your lady, Princess Sophia was now betrothed to the King of England. Her whole life was being uprooted as she was now to be a wife. This meant you would be going to England to live with her and accompany her as she acclimated to her new life.

You had been with Lady Sophia for several years now. You catered to her every whim, had conversations with others when she did not wish to speak, and handled all of her affairs, such as food, dresses and everything in between. It could be exhausting at times, you had to admit.

But you were excited to begin a new life in a whole other country. Word had it that England’s castle was much grander than the one you knew as your home.

The travel was long and uneventful, especially since there was no real way to get comfortable in a horse drawn carriage. It was you and Sophia all alone for days of traveling.

She had been given a small photo of her soon-to-be husband: King Henry V. She could not help but obsess over the tiny thing. He seemed to be a pale man, but with pretty green eyes and striking features. He was rather handsome. Your Lady was quite lucky. You knew so many women who were forced to marry and be bred by old, hideous men who were also horrible human beings. You hoped that since he was still young, King Henry would be kind to Sophia.

“Well he is quite handsome, at least he will give me many beautiful children.” Sophia said, hopeful.

“Yes, your Highness. I’m sure you will have a large family indeed.”

.......

Upon arriving at the royal home of the King, Lady Sophia was taken on a tour of the castle and the grounds by royal personnel. You were left to get her things in order in her new bed chambers.

As the evening came, you were informed that Sophia's tour had concluded, and she was at supper. You finished unpacking and placing her personal things and dresses, then decided you should go and wait for her to outside the dining hall.

You found your way through the many long halls; you heard footsteps nearing. You looked around, seeing a small group of men approaching you. You felt nervous, recognizing the man leading the pack. You knew it was the King.

You stopped and bowed politely, giving him a kind smile as well. Your breath had been taken, for the photo given to Sophia did not do him justice in the flesh. He was the most bewitchingly beautiful man you had ever seen.

"Hello, I am King Henry the Fifth of England." he nodded, "You must be Princess Sophia. I am glad to finally meet you."

"Oh, no Your Majesty. I am only her lady's maid, I apologize for the confusion. Lady Sophia is having supper in the dining hall, Your Majesty." You realized that he must not have received a photo of his bride.

His green eyes widened some as he noticed the error. "Please forgive me. I am sorry for the mistake, miss..."

"Um, y/n, Your Majesty." There were footsteps coming from the opposite direction. You and the King noticed Lady Sophia, accompanied by the housekeeper, approaching.

"Your Majesty, Princess Sophia, your new bride." said the housekeeper, taking it upon herself to introduce the couple.

"Ah, yes." Henry looked at Sophia, nodding, then he looked back at you, to your surprise, "I just met y/n, your lady in waiting. And if you are half as lovely as she, then I am to be a very lucky man." He gave the Princess a charming smile.

You had to admit, you were weak in the knees. You imagined your lady felt the same sensation for the King already.

........

"Oh, y/n! He is so intelligent, and unbelievably charming! Ugh! And even more handsome than his picture. I think I am in love already." Sophia had spent the remainder of the evening with Henry. She was entranced by the young King, obviously.

"I am so very glad for you, my lady." you gave her an encouraging smile. "He seems wonderful. I hope he makes you very happy for years to come." You helped her into her nightrobe so that she could get into bed for the night.

"I hope that as well, y/n." she said with a gleeful sigh.

You turned down her bed for her, and she sat down on the lush sheets.

"I am so grateful that you are here to keep me company and to help me navigate becoming a Queen. There are so many things about England I need to learn. Hal will help me too." she blushed, relaxing onto the bed, letting her head melt into the pillow.

"Hal? Is that a nickname for the King?" you inquired.

"Yes, he told me to call him Hal. He said everyone close to him calls him that." Sophia yawned dramatically. “Goodnight, y/n.” she said, dismissing you.

“Goodnight, my lady. Sleep well.” you replied, leaving her bedroom.

As you walked down the hallway, you were feeling strange because you were happy for your lady, but you could not stop thinking of the way the King had looked at you. You knew it certainly wasn’t any special look. For he was betrothed to Princess Sophia. Surely, he was enamored by her, as everyone always was. You would never experience that, and most definitely not with a King.

You would most likely never marry, your whole life would be dedicated to the Princess, even more so when she becomes a Queen. You’ll have more duties to help with and the royal children to look after in the future. There wouldn’t be any time for you to have a romance, much less a marriage or a child of your own.

You were knocked away from your thoughts as you bumped into another body that you did not see coming from around the corner.

"Oh!" you gasped, looking at the other person, realizing you had collided with the King. "My Lord- I mean, Your Majesty, I am so very sorry. It was only an accident-" You began to frantically apologize, hoping that you did not offend him enough to be fired.

He only chuckled, touching your arm, "No, no. A needless apology, it was my fault, miss y/n."

You smiled kindly, he seemed a most humble of kings. "Were you coming to call on Lady Sophia? I fear she has gone to sleep for the evening."

He nodded, "Oh, well no, I was not. I was heading to the drawing room, to have some tea before bed. Would you care to join me?"

@gatoenlaciudad @thebetawolfgirl @musicandbooksaremyhappyplace @softhecreator @tchalamss @lixzey @bitchyunknownuser @ducktapebar @aoi-targaryen @yukideadinside @elloise0 @thatoneweirdgirl17 @mel-vaz @sammy-halpert @iwishchalamet @that-one-fangirl69 @jindongdongie @briefkittenearthquake @imnotoverlyobsessive

[tofu83]

Lottery to Upgrade 4

Travel Companion

"Kevin Smith, congratulation! You win the bonus prize for Lottery to Upgrade!" the robots surrounded him when he was on his way to the metro station.

"But I was on my way to the travel agency where I worked, and I was laid off and needed to get my personal belongings back!" Kevin couldn’t believe what he heard.

"That travel agency has closed down. In order to protect employees' right to work, the owners specially approved the project to upgrade all employees." A robot reaches out with a glowing metal collar.

He couldn't understand why he was treated like this when he obeyed all the rules. "F**k you Masters!" He cursed and bolted from the siege.

"Attention to all units, the test target citizen Kevin Smith, ID number S198408964, has resisted and must be arrested immediately! Follow the instructions and must be unharmed."

Before Kevin could run too far, he felt a cold collar around his neck and lost consciousness.

The upgraded men inside the tubes had no metal, wiring, lights, or panels at all on their appearance, and they looked just like ordinary people. This surprised the intern.

"Have they really been upgraded?" the intern asked the senior researcher while recording the data.

"Of course! Don't you think they look perfect?"

These men have beautiful faces, well-proportioned bodies, and obvious muscle lines. In addition, the package under their underwear is fascinating.

"No, I mean, well, they don't look like robots."

"Of course, they are chosen as Master's pets. They all maintain human appearance but are completely mechanized on the inside."

"Pets?"

"To Masters, we are just like animals! Isn't it normal for humans to keep dogs as pets, and for Masters to keep humans as pets? And just as dogs can be trained to do many things for humans, humans can also be programmed to meet the needs of Masters. For example, this pet once named Kevin will accompany the owner on a tour of the earth. The earth is Masters’ Safari Park, you know. Wait! What are you doing?"

The intern opened "Kevin's" tube and started the process. "I want to manually check whether his quality meets the standards." He smiled obsessively and stroked the pet's body.

"Pet bot KN-S7061 activated. Are you my exclusive owner？" the robot once named Kevin stood straight and asked.

"Yes!" intern was so excited that he decided to ignore any risks of playing Masters’ property.

"So happy to meet you, owner!" KN-S7016 hugged the young man and started licking him.

"You are crazy! Their pheromone was enhanced because Masters wanted them be more primitive. You can’t bear it…" the senior researcher put on a gas mask and hit the emergency button.

As the alarm bell blared, the sound of metal boots stamping on the floor quickly approached, but the intern didn't care at all. He was completely naked and wrestling with his pet.

"I’m not the real owner but if I could dominate…." the intern thought but he was pinned down on the floor immediately, already lost. His mind also changed. "If I could be dominated, I might be owned, too!"

KN-S7061, the Pet bot, knew the man underneath it was not the real owner from the very beginning, so it pretended and decided to give its real owner a souvenir as an embellishment for travel.

What better souvenir than a bred wild human? It was sure the owner would be glad to have a bonus free pet and proud of it!

[arcane-vagabond]

Okay, so none of you asked for this, but I'm giving it to you anyway.

Jake watched as Scout walked down the busy street with the young man still in tow beside her. His jaw twitched in irritation as he made no move to drop his arm from around her shoulder. Who did this guy think he was? Jake's jaw clenched painfully at the sight of you laughing and smiling up at him. Why couldn't you do that with him?

"That must have been so hard for you," chortled Coyote beside him, grinning wide at his best friend. Jake gave him a less than amused look, watching as the two rounded the corner onto the street towards the ranch.

"I mean, it's not often you get turned down by any woman, let alone the same one," Javy continued.

"Wait, what happened?" Mickey asked, coming up to them with Bob and Reuben in tow. Jake groaned as Javy's smile grew wider.

"Jake got dressed down by little Scout in a most spectacular fashion just now."

"Really?" Reuben grinned. "Isn't this the same girl who yelled at you in the middle of the street?"

"The very one!" Javy beemed, and Jake gave him a dirty look.

Bob shuffled on his feet anxiously, looking at Jake with big, round eyes. He swallowed thickly, "how is she?"

Jake's gaze softened as he took the younger man in. "She's fine, Bobby."

"I'll say!" Javy guffawed, resting a hand on Jake's shoulder. "She's feistier than before! She practically through the necklace back in his face!"

Jake's frown deepened as he stared down at the necklace in his hand. Javy wasn't far off, and she had assumed the worst of him. Sure, he hadn't come by his money in a way she had deemed "respectable," but old Mr. Benson was a kind man. Jake had helped patch his roof up before the first downpour of the year when the old man mentioned the roof had started leaking. It had taken Jake a whole week to finish the project by himself, and the old man had insisted on repaying him. Jake hadn't been able to think of anything at the time, but he had seen you yesterday afternoon.

He hadn't gone up to you then, perfectly content to just watch you go about your business as he watched you from the sidelines. Thankfully, you hadn't noticed him, but he definitely noticed as you stopped in front of the jeweler's shop window. He watched as your eyes glittered at the sight of the jewels in the display window. Your face remained neutral, however, and in those quiet moments, Jake sees the quiet, well-bred lady you were back East.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" an older woman had asked, coming up behind her. Scout had jumped a little in surprise, but offered the older woman a warm smile. He really wished you'd look at him like that.

"It is," the younger woman nodded, looking back at the display.

"Whoever receives that, is a lucky woman," the old woman chuckled. Scout hummed in agreement, a dreamy smile on her face. The old woman had bid her farewell before continuing on her way. Scout had returned the sentiment, casting one last look at the display before turning and walking in the opposite direction. Jake watched after her, wondering how he was going to figure out which piece she had been looking at. He felt a tap on his shoulder, and he turned to see the old woman from before standing in front of him, a knowing smile on her face.

"It was the emerald," she whispered to him. He smiled broadly down at her. "Thank you," he whispered back, tipping his hat at her before making a beeline for the door. Mr. Benson had needed no convincing or force, as Scout had implied. In fact, Mr. Benson had shoved Jake's money back into his hand along with the emerald.

"Call it me returning a favor," he had smiled before sending Jake on his way.

Now here he was, a day later with his pride wounded.

"What did she say exactly?" Bob asked, looking at the blond.

"Said she only accepts gifts from men who earn their money in a respectable way," Javy grinned.

Bob looked down thoughtfully before looking at Jake with a determined expression on his face. "Then do it."

"What?" Jake blinked, taken aback. The other Daggers didn't look that much different as they stared at the usually shy man.

"Go earn your money in a respectable way if you're serious about this," Bob stated, eyes hard. Jake studied him before giving a slight nod and walking off, leaving the others in the market. Jake walked aimlessly for a bit as he thought of what he could do. Steady work was hard to come by, which was why the Daggers held their current occupations. He thought back to something Maverick had mentioned in passing that morning.

"Benjamin says that he's still looking for ranch hands to tend the herd. Says he wants strong, young men for the job," he had said. "I told him I'd send him anyone who came by looking for work."

Jake spun on his heels and marched his way to the two story building that stood by the bank. He walked through the door confidently, Natasha Trace turning to greet him with a smile before realizing who he was.

"What are you-?" she had started, but he walked past her and into the hallway leading to the offices. Natasha called after him, but he ignored her, turning into the final door on the left.

Benjamin was hunched over his desk, glasses perched on the end of his nose as he read over the papers in front of him. He looked up with a start, eyes widening at the sight of Jake before him. Jake strutted over to the chair on the opposite side of where the other man sat, plopping down into the plush, leather seat. Benjamin stared at him as Jake sat his feet on the edge of the desk, legs crossed, and began inspecting his nails.

"Hangman," Benjamin said slowly. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm your new ranch hand," Jake announced with a smirk. Benjamin stared.

"What?"

"Mav always said I should walk into interviews like I already have the job."

"Jake," Benjamin started, "Why do you even want a job?"

Jake shrugged. "Could be good to have on my resume."

"I see," the other man chuckled, giving him a knowing half-smile. Benjamin leaned back in his chair. "This wouldn't happen to have anything to do with my baby sister, would it?"

Jake felt the tips of his ears heat up as he continued to inspect his fingernails.

"Benjamin," he drawled, "has anyone ever told you to mind your business?"

Benjamin let out an easy-going laugh.

"Once or twice," he grinned at the blond. "Why don't you find something else, though? I hear the butcher is hiring-"

"No," Jake said simply.

"Come again?"

"You're lookin', and I'm willin' to work. I don't see what's so hard to understand about that."

Benjamin frowned slightly. "I don't understand why it must be my ranch."

"Just somethin' special about it, I suppose."

Benjamin hummed.

"You aren't going to take 'no' for an answer, are you?" he groused.

"Nope," Jake grinned, popping his lips on the last sound. Benjamin sighed with a shake of his head.

"Fine. Be at the ranch at sunrise tomorrow morning."

"Will do, boss."

[xaphrin]

Midnight Promises Broken at Dawn

It's Halloween! (just barely) and this is part of the colab I was working on with @inverted-typo. We decided to go with an Eros and Psyche theme.

There's so much more that's set to come out, because (of course) it got way out of control. I am aiming for the next part in two weeks, and I will post it to AO3.

Thank you so much for everything, and for being patient!

---

Damian felt the tug of someone breaking the seal that lined the wilderness of his estate. It was like a spider web thread snapping in the back of his mind, the delicate fiber straining until it broke and hung limp and loose against someone’s skin.  

Curious. 

The seal was designed to create a barrier along his sacred land so that wandering humans would have the sudden urge to panic and flee in the opposite direction. Anyone who managed to break through was either very powerful or very stupid. Or, maybe even a little desperate. After all, desperation bred fools. 

He glanced up from the sketch he’d been working on and stared out the window into the dark gray of a blizzard at twilight, a mild annoyance creasing his brow. Damian may have been the grandson of a god, and have some minor powers of his own, but even he couldn't command the weather when it was like this. 

Unfortunately, whoever had broken through his barrier would be allowed to remain close to his land until the storm calmed down.

Damian frowned and let go of a heavy sigh, glaring at nothing in particular. What an annoyance.

-

Raven could at least say that she had been given some small graces, even tiny ones. She had managed to harvest a few late mushrooms and set up additional traps in the woods farther from her cabin. It would have been better to have the traps be a bit closer to where she was currently taking shelter, but the storm had moved in faster than she anticipated, leaving her food sources scarce, and her choices even moreso.  

The wind whipped overhead, shaking snow loose from the trees and scattering it over her shoulders. The noise was somehow both ear-deafening and eerily quiet. It shook her bones, but somehow never made a real sound.  

With a curse staining her lips, she picked her way back along the path she created, making her way back to the dilapidated cabin she was taking shelter in. Her feet couldn’t move her fast enough. She felt strange being on this land, as if she wasn’t supposed to be here. It felt like a tug in her chest, a panicked feeling that made her breath short and her body shiver hard. But necessity drove her this far away from the cabin, and her options were growing more and more limited. 

"Someday," she muttered to herself, brushing snow-wet hair from her eyes, "I am going to learn to live with others. In a society. With people." 

It seemed more like an empty promise than a real one, and it was one she made at least three times a week. It had been well over a year since her bastard of a father had thankfully died, but his heavy shadow remained on her shoulders - oppressive and domineering. Her world should have opened up and grown larger with possibilities and friends, but the fingers of his crazed fear sank too deep into her own mind. And if she was honest with herself, she doubted she would ever be free of them. 

For the protection of the world, you must remain alone. You are a stain here, Raven. Nothing better than a whore of Babylon. 

Fuck him. Cursing his grave (wherever it was), she kicked at a rotting stump and made her way back to the abandoned forest ranger cabin that had become her temporary home. It didn't have much in the way of modern comforts, but at least it had a hand pump for water outside, and an outhouse. After some of the places she had stayed with her father, four walls around her while she did her business was practically palatial in comparison. 

Raven made her way through the snow, following the marks she had left in the trees to show the path. The storm continued to rage around her, growing more and more violent and bitterly cold with each minute. Even the shelter of thick, ancient pines couldn’t shield her forever. She pulled her worn coat tighter around her, and eventually found her way back to the cabin. 

When she stepped over the threshold, the pitch black of night had fallen, and the storm eased marginally. Small blessings, even if they were a little late. 

Walking carefully over the packed dirt floor, Raven stoked the coals still smoldering in the fireplace, and sank down into the ragged remains of an armchair by the hearth. She looked through her ever thinning supplies until she located her last can of soup. Sighing, she tucked it near the coals of the fire, warming what was left of her food. She wasn't sure when she'd be able to go on a supply run into town, and she didn't feel great about the traps she set today, so she was going to have to make this last as long as she could. 

Raven pulled herself close to the fire and tucked her thin blanket around her legs, feeling every muscle in her body ache with exertion. She was weary, and not just from the daily struggle of trying to survive. She was weary of being so utterly alone and isolated. Her father, in spite of all his bullshit, was at least some small amount of company. After he died, she had no one.

Her chest grew tight, and grief filled her until it was so heavy she wasn’t sure if she could bear the weight. A cold tear spilled over her cheek and she wiped it away with her sleeve. She wasn’t sad for his loss, but was sad that she had no one to turn to - no one to help her move forward in the world. She was, for all intents and purposes, alone. 

Raven watched the coals' red glow fade, her mind drifting in and out of consciousness as she slipped into a half-sleep, where her dreams seemed far too real. 

"A human. How pathetic."

Raven grit her teeth against the insult. She might have been a pathetic human, but she would survive out of spite, and that was a threat. 

Her head rocked to the side, staring into the dark shadows of the half-rotted cabin. Hearing phantom voices and seeing unexpected things became a usual occurrence after being alone for so long, but this voice sounded different than it ever had before. "You're not any better…" She paused, trying to think of something to call this new hallucination. “…you ass.”

Very clever.   

The was a soft grunt, proving that it was obviously not insulted by her weak name calling. The shadows moved like smoke, staying tight to the deepest part of the darkness. Raven felt something staring at her, as if trying to understand what she was. She turned her head and stared into the rafters, hearing the creak and groan of the roof under the weight of snow. 

“What are you doing out here?”

“It’s public land. I am public.” She closed her eyes, trying to let herself fall deeper into sleep, but the shadows kept talking, much to her annoyance. Sometimes she wished her phantoms would just shut up.  

“Not all of it is public land. You stepped past those boundaries.” 

“Oh, please.” Raven snorted. “Will some absurdly rich recluse really know if I trap a few hares on their thousands of acres of unused land?” 

The shadows responded with a strange breathy noise, as if it wasn’t sure whether or not she made a valid point. 

“See?” Raven let her point seep into her tone. “Even you agree.”

There was another long pause, and the darkness spoke again. “Perhaps there is a reason to keep you off the land.”

“To make sure that their investment of land holdings is properly protected?”

“Hm.” The shadows moved like ink in water, spreading out against the walls as the coals’ light dimmed even farther. Finally it moved closer to her. “You seem to think you know a lot for someone who lives in a stolen hovel on public land.”

“Circumstances don’t always dictate the totality of a person.” 

The shadows didn’t seem to know what to make of that comment, and stayed silent. Raven closed her eyes and let her body sink into the remains of the armchair, wrapping the threadbare blankets tighter around her. She shifted onto her side and faced the fading heat of the coals. The world grew heavy and dark, and Raven felt her body finally succumb to exhaustion, as she slipped into a dark, empty dreamless sleep.  

But, she swore she heard one last word from her half-dream of shadows along the wall… 

“Curious.”

-

She haunted his thoughts and that infuriated him more than anything. 

This ragged slip of a human, who squatted in abandoned cabins and had the gall to tease him. Him. The grandson of a god, and a demigod in his own right.

And yet, he couldn’t stop thinking about her. He wondered if the traps she set remained bare, if she had managed to find food or warmth, and even if her firewood was dry enough. It was unbearable. Every moment he wasn’t completely focused on something else, she entered his thoughts.

Against his better judgment, Damian found himself visiting her again a few nights later, unable to stay away. He thought that if he saw her again, he might be less enamored by her - at least, that was what he kept telling himself. 

She was interesting, even if he didn’t admit it out loud. There was something about the way she spoke to him that piqued his curiosity. It was as if she thought he was an echo or a dream, and not real in any sense of the word. He had spent most of his long life being surrounded by those who worshiped his grandfather, and while Damian appreciated the reverence and kowtowing, it felt almost refreshing to have someone treat him… normal. 

Almost.

She should still have some verneration for him. He was technically still a god. 

When Damian slipped into the shadows of the abandoned cabin, he found her floating in that space between awake and sleep where things seemed almost real. Her eyes lifted to the dark corner where he stood, trying to discern his shape from between the shadows. 

“You came back.” Her voice was a slow drawling sound that slid over his skin like a spell. “I thought you’d disappeared. It’s been a few days since you’ve haunted me.”

Part of him wished he hadn’t returned here, and he had forgotten all about the trespasser on his land. But, here he was, watching a strange woman sleep on a rotting armchair. “You’re still here…” He trailed off, leaving the question unspoken in the air. 

“Raven,” she muttered with an annoyed sigh. “I would have thought you would have at least known my name since you insist on following me around and invading my inner peace.” There was a long pause and he thought she had fallen asleep. Finally, her words slipped from behind her lips. “I’m here because I have nowhere else to go.” 

He blinked and continued to watch her, letting her words settle. There was a story there he wanted to know, but he wasn’t sure if he should pry. Prying meant that there was a part of him that cared about her, and he didn’t. But… perhaps he was a little curious. 

“You have no home?”

“Even if I did, it would not be a place I would go back to." Raven sighed, as if this conversation was exhausting her. “And, if I can't find strength in myself, then who else could I possibly find strength in?”

Damian was about to say something brave and gallant, but he stopped himself. He was not the type of person to offer platitudes and words of encouragement, and he certainly wasn't the type of person to offer help in any sense of the word. He liked his solitude and his privacy, and the only reason he was here was because this human was upsetting his perfectly manicured life. 

Still… 

“Seems to be a lonely life.”

“It is.” She gave a dry laugh, her blunt answer cutting through the weight of the room. There was a sorrow that clung to her, and a longing for something more than she had now. “After all, I'm talking to the shadows on the wall about my lack of home.”

He wondered if she would believe him if he said he was real, but chose to keep silent instead. 

“You should go away, you’re keeping me from my well deserved sleep. You’re like an annoying fly buzzing around my head.” She gave a halfhearted wave, as if shooing him away, before she turned her face to the warmth of the fire. Her breath deepened, and Damian stood there for a long while, watching this curious human sleep. 

There was an odd, uncomfortable stirring in his chest, as though his heart was waking up after a long, deep sleep. 

His lips twitched in annoyance, and he glanced around the small cabin, taking stock of what she owned. It was so little, that it seemed as though she had simply walked out of a place one day with whatever she could carry on her back. A few clothes, a threadbare blanket, a backpack that had certainly seen better days, and…

His eyes rested on several beat up paperback books poking through the holes of her bag. That seemed like an odd choice, having books when she seemed to have such limited resources in the first place. Damian turned that observation around in his head for a moment, unsure of what to make of it.

Ultimately, it didn't matter. Mortals were of little concern to him.

Raven included. 

Ignoring that strange flutter in his chest, he slipped back into the shadows and disappeared from the cabin.

[fivelasanctum]

Time Commission Handbook Notes

Bought this book recently and it bred life into the Founder Five character more than any personal headcanons. A tragic version of Five to be sure. I'll just around and list things I noticed while perusing the book. Spoilers ahead if you haven't read the book.

Auggie fletcher narrarates most of the book. Kinda cute xD He has a crush on lila. Describing her as 'pure' despite her being the secret weapon of the time commission and the handler's enforcer. Apparently lila felt bad for him when he would have unseemly grunt work. Like cleaning the bathrooms and helping to pick up shattered plates. Most likely from the handler's tantrum. Like her rage when she flung five's item off his old desk.

Five does a flow chart for his mission when he pretended to join back up with the commission. Herb and Gloria also made ones. Five's was the shortest since he could figure out the expedient way to solve it with less factors involved.

Founder five did a foreward about working in the shadows, why he created the commission. To fix a universe that kept breaking. How he is in the passenger's seat but more along for the ride. By the time of writing in the handbook he is more hands off and tired. Yet still is trying to give hope to prospect agents wanting to be part of the well oiled machine. Doesn't feel he is needed as much. Hero/god complex with feeling what they do is to help humans continue living. Saving the world. Then ended it by thanking the would-be prospects.

Margot Archfield is Auggie's supervisor. The one writing in the margins of the book. Trying to edit and silence Auggie.

bar graph of statistics with special op deaths. 26 percent for marital strife xD 3 Percent for faulty briefcases. Makes sense why lila was pissed when hers wasn't working because you are stuck completely. Stranded. Explains the impact of five seeing both suitcases drained of time juice.

Auggie is kind of a five fan boy lol ♥ Their is a new character introduced named Cassidy -'the tragedy' Cartwight. Cassidy was a mother whom lost her son when he tried to save her from being mugged. He ended up getting murdered. She joined the time commission in order to find a way to go back in time to save his life. She was bullied severely because she never killed anyone. Had no successes with her missions. She used the times she was deployed in, to try to go back in time to save her son to no avail. What I found shocking is that she was sent out to kill a FLOWER MERCHANT. Being told it would trigger the events of pearl harbor. She didn't care about it. So I'm thinking the Handler first sent her out to take out one of Lila's parents to make things easier for her with her goal to kidnap lila if she had no attachments. Handler was still in power around that time of the narration. It failed since it was cassidy. So Handler then sent the 'legendary assassin' five out to clear the way. Killing Lila's parent with no questions.

Cassidy was someone founder five felt sadness over. She had apparently died three years before the writing of this version of the handbook. Founder actually met her in person at the behest of the board to reach out to the younger generation. He admired her for her steadfast pursuit to try to save her son. In terms of trying to change the past and future, they understood each other in that capacity. Apparently he tried to quell her bullying from the shadows but didn't work since he was trapped in the bunker. He likens himself to rapunzel. Hurt his heart because she reminded him of himself. Determined to save her family like him. Clawing and hitting their heads on the wall to find a solution. Respected her gusto. Saw her as better than him in the pursuit to get back to the past and change the events for the better but she failed. So that must have propelled Founder's depression further. Not seeing the point of it all by the end of season 3.

He mentioned that he hopes 'their experiement works' so their isn't a need for people like cassidy to struggle so hard to have a loved one back. Thanking Auggie for mentioning her.

My take on her connection to founder: Was that they were acquaintances' but that founder was protective of her due to her still having been steadfast in her goal. Whereas he lost his way from time with failures and depression.

Unfortunate news that took the wind out of my sails while reading. Apparently their is an alternate five that becomes a stay at home husband in Dublin, Ireland. Married to his fashion model wife Delores. Initially reading that pissed me off. Dolores is real to Five's mind but she is an imaginary companion formed from a part of his psyche to cope with years of solitude and madness. Representing his conscious most likely. >.>; Having never been a person born to a mother I fail how that would work. Unless he bonded with someone having that name. Lingering memories from the alpha(main) timeline.

After I had time to process, I figured the author wanted to put lila there but since this came out right before season 4 was released it wouldn't do to mention Five and Lila being romantically linked. That would have spoiled the last two episodes of season 4. They went to great pains to keep things hush-hush. Late night filming, separate filming crew for the lila/five scenes. Couldn't show much in trailers etc.. Might be biased but I think that makes the most sense. Another take on it is that in that timeline it was the reverse situation. Where lila and five had their obstacles in the main storyline. With her being married with kids. Unhappy in the marriage because she had to do everything with the responsibilities with kids, maybe the house work as well. In the alternate timeline, five was in her position with being a stay at home dad and his wife focusing on her career. Interesting fanfic ideas lol

Their is something to my theory of founder five creating paradox psychosis. Auggie says the flatulence side effect was approved of from the founder. Questioned if he was a prankster regarding that stage but added it in the book all the same.

Was a small blurb about the would-be pursuers of Five to take handcuffs with them since he apparently can't blink unless his hands are free. Though auggie's supervisor pipes up it's not verified. (S and M fivelila confirmed? xD)

Alternate timeline lila is in a rock band called the Mimics where they have basement shows in east London. Soo the rock band AU fics can be semi canon since alt version is in a band. * Founder five mentions how his health is failing him (We don't know his true age since founded the commission) How the commission was a failure despite their minor victories. Comes in line with his message to Five to not save the world and to just lay down their sword quietly. Founder could have known about the end result with the ben/jennifer situation outside of addressing the Kugelblitz one. Thanking those that helped him with the commission as he basically tries to make peace with the inevitability of death and to not bother anymore. Was the second to last passage in the book. Founder five deserves a hug at this point Q~Q

[maisonaime]

Ilithyia's Blessings

I got Covid-19 as a college graduation/early Christmas present :) enjoy the fruits of me being stuck in my parent's basement.

Summary: Rewrite of Feyre's reaction to finding out about the risks of her pregnancy! I (like many) hated how this was dealt with, and would personally love to see her rip the entire IC a new one for that bullshit. Diverges from canon the moment Nesta leaves the townhouse. Heavy angst and hurt for all, BUT a happy ending! Please note that I am atrocious at writing dialogue so forgive me.

Warnings: Pregnancy complications, family dysfunction, mentions of past trauma, emotionally abusive & generally unhinged behavior from all!

Part 1:

As the last of Nesta’s burning fury trailed out of the door after her, Feyre’s eyes once again met Amren’s. The tears there had turned sharp as glass shards. Power imbued with the abundance of life nestled in the High Lady choked the air of the townhouse, damp and salty and so very wrong. They had been so very wrong. 

Amren did not falter, but her stance was one of false ease. She had never wished so badly to be well-versed in the nuances of emoting and made a note to herself to observe her peers' reactions more closely; that she might glean some useful mimicry for a similar situation in the future. A creature of preternatural stillnesses and pregnant silences, Amren waited until Feyre spoke in a voice so deep it may have been derived from the pits of the Mountains themselves. 

“How long have you all known?” 

“You should really ask your ma–” bared teeth cut her off.

“I asked you Amren. How long?” Feyre snarled.

It was becoming uncomfortable to breathe, reminiscent of the cloistered air of the Prison. Amren was struck with the sudden realization that her powers were no match for her High Lady, not anymore.  

“Too long” she admitted unflinchingly. “I will apologize for my part in it, but Rhysand had his reasons and I saw the practicality of it. As your friend, I know it was wrong. You must understand Feyre, I have to be the one person who can separate emotion from decisions in this Court, it’s my first nature and my duty as Rhys’ second.”

Feyre just stood there, eyes wide, breathing hard. Her tattooed hands still clutching her stomach as though the babe would rip its way into the world for all the horror she felt in that moment.

“Has it ever once occurred to you…” – her voice burned through the condensed ether like the birth of a star, Amren winced – “has it ever once occurred to any of you, that when Rhys made me High Lady, he made me High Lady of this Court, not just his High Lady. I am High Lady of the Night Court, I am your damn High Lady. And if you Amren are his second, then you are also mine.”

Tiny ancient one be damned, she needed backup for this. She only prayed Varian had the good sense to bring Elain back to the townhouse, no one else would do any good for this moment. 

And to think I was lecturing Nesta on respect.” she seethed. “To think that I’ve put up with this ridiculous sequestering of my family by my family. Elain and Nesta are flailing as they grapple with bodies and lives they were born and bred to fear, just as I did. We treat Elain like a vapid flower as if she is not burdened to see between fucking worlds. And you all act as though Nesta’s viciousness will tear chunks out of me but you forget she is my sister. I have known her my whole life and she has not torn my throat out yet. Vicious she may be, but at least she’s godsdamn honest.”

“No one is denying this Feyre but I don’t see–” 

“What this has to do with me? With my child? There’s plenty you lot are failing to fucking grapple with right now. The very basic premises of duty and friendship to start with. What about the principle of allowing a female control over her own life, her own body?” there was a jagged edge of panic making its way into her tone, the air grew impossibly tighter. 

At that moment the door banged open once again and Amren winced again as Morrigan pushed her way into the room against the wave of unyielding magic pulsing from Feyre. She silently cursed Varian.

“Feyre, I’m so sorry. If we had thought there was any other way to keep you and the babe safe–” she began before she was cut off by a dark wave of Feyre’s magic. Not the same magic that silenced Tamlin’s voice at the meeting of the High Lords, but a plume of magic that quite literally took the place of the air in Mor’s lungs, bringing her swiftly, silently to her knees.

“Surely you aren’t going to tell me you knew what was best for my womb Morrigan, you couldn’t even protect your own from desecration.” Feyre spat down at her.

Amren stood frozen in horror, watching Mor claw at her neck, eyes bulging and mouth agape like a fish out of water. The spell lasted only moments before air rushed back into her purpling face with a harsh gasp, but both Fae were still frozen in place before their High Lady. 

“You all seem to have forgotten, that I live and breathe the powers of all the Courts of Prythian. That I am Made, my sisters and I. We are creatures to be feared and served before we are loved. You’ve failed me, and in doing so you’ve failed this Court. Make sure you let Rhysand see me say that when he looks into your mind.”

Mor blanched, “Feyre you can’t leave now, Rhys and Madja are so close to finding an answer.” Where the hell was Rhys, how had he not yet sensed the chaos threatening to level the entire block of buildings the townhouse occupied?

“I can and I will. I am not safe here, nor is my child. I will seek refuge where I can find healers and friends who will allow me the dignity of deciding what I do with my body, my child. That I would put my life in the hands of a healer who answers to my mate over me, a husband who seeks to deceive me and involve my entire family in doing so? No, I would be a fool to give away my life so passively.” she paced before them frantically, power collecting into thick bands that coiled around Feyre in a churning, horrid shield. 

No longer their friend, no longer their family. A mother and a female burning with primal rage and fear for the safety of her child, guaranteed only by her ability to protect it. Protect it from the world, and in these agonized moments, protect it from her family. A family that could no longer be trusted.

“He will rip apart the world to find you and the babe Feyre, this won’t do any good.” Amren spoke as bluntly as usual, but the edge in her tone betrayed her wariness. 

“Let him try. I’ve never had the chance to test my powers against him, have never needed to until now. I confess I’m curious to see if I can inspire the fear in him that he’s attributed to my name.” The crazed glint in Feyre’s watery eyes was wholly unnerving. 

“Feyre, I’m begging you, don’t do this. We all lived with the fear of losing each other during the war– you and Rhys actually did. Don’t let this tear us all apart again.” Mor was practically weeping, still draped at Feyre’s feet in submission.

“Mor, it’s not my decisions that have led us here. I’ll leave it to you all to decide how to proceed; this Court seems to conceive of its most coordinated efforts without my knowledge.” Feyre had stopped pacing and closed her eyes, all of that asphyxiating power rushing from the room back into those bands of black power coalescing around her. The hair on the back of Amren’s neck stood tall.

“Will you return girl?” she asked quietly, refusing to look away from the fierce specter of power they had so woefully forsaken. Accepting that there was little they could do to stop the events that had been set in motion.

Feyre’s head snapped to her, eyes black with rage, looking every bit the Made Fae that could undo curses and courts. 

“I will return when I have proven to you all that I can give birth to my son without your duplicitous interference. I will return when I have a Court and friends and a mate that I trust to bend the knee, not bring me to my own.” she said with finality. 

The vortex of power around Feyre crackled and snapped as Rhys’ careful warding of Feyre’s body collapsed under her iron will. A new source of power, alarmed and frenetic and reeking of Rhys, swept through Velaris and into the townhouse. It crashed into the whorls of Feyre’s might with a piercing screech. The windows shattered sending glass through the air. Amren and Mor curled into themselves to avoid the spray.

When the chimes of falling glass had stopped and Mor and Amren could uncover their eyes, Feyre was gone. Where her scent, her power, her body had overwhelmed the room, there was absolutely nothing left to indicate that the High Lady of Night had ever stepped foot in the townhouse. 

Somewhere in the distance, mountains rumbled, birds took flight and the citizens of Velaris cowered as Rhysand let out an unearthly roar. 

[gettinontopic]

Transandrophobia is real and it isn't about Trans Women opressing Trasn Men its about how the patriarchy attacks all masculinity that isnt the Cishetallo peri-sex able-bodied white man style that's been cultivated since this land was stolen!!!

It covers anyone who's felt like their identity was dictated by them not being allowed to be a man, or being forced to be a man due to factors they couldn't control. It covers anyone who's masculinity was punished because they aren't a man or weren't a man at one point.

It covers how the patriarchy treats masculinity like a prison and anyone who fights that is treated like an escaped prisoner.

[More under cut bc this got way longer than I originally meant]

Patriarcy hates you if you aren't cis no matter how well you preform, designed to try and make you feel like to relax you have to pass as their idea of man, even if thats not anywhere near who you are as a person.

God forbid you be assigned male and the go through and different puberty then they want. Or god forbid you have a physical traigh that the Patriarchy doesn't thing adds up to man. And go fuck yourself if they assign you male and then find something that makes them sneak off, change shit (possibly without parental consent either) and say "haha we were wrong its a healthy baby girl actually!" Only for your classmates to mock you as you start to have seemingly a "wrong" puberty for girld your age.

It hates you if you aren't white, and sees your masculinity as Femininity (in a derogatory way) or as a funny mimicry of its own. It laughs at you or marks you as more violent no matter how many of the acceptable White Words you use. It kills you if you inspire too many people to like you and agree with you. Your're treated stange and forgein no matter how many of you there are in the world around them.

It hates you if you aren't the ideal allo. If you look at romance as anything as Husband and Wife in a Nice White House and with at least Two White Kids and behind your White Picket Fence. If you look at friendship as anything other than secondhand to romance. It teaches you to see critisisms of centralizing romance and sex everywhere, as personal attacks to lash back on.

It hates you if you are a Women who likes masculinity. Because the Patriarchy doesn't see Women as somone who should have masculinity. Women bring new ways to look at masculinity and new ways to present it. Thats is a threat to the Patriarchies need to keep tight fitting boxes.

Butches, cis or trans, are treated like ticking time bombs who should be carefully wire cut so they don't explode and leave their self crafted masculinity where the Patriarchy has to see it.

It hates you if you aren't able bodied. It looks at you as something to be fixed to fufill a role that it assigned, not nature. It looks at you as a failure for not being able to preform the song and dance it choreographed. It mocks you and abandons you because it knows you can't keep up, the goalpost always moving past what you prove you can do.

No man has a mobility aid until he's old. No man has sickness in his body until he earns it (by being old) Men can always lift heavy things (and must hurt themslves being a proud old man). Men always work the Jobs. Men always have working bodies and big muscles (but not fat haha. Never fat thats gross).

The Patriarchy hates fat. Fat makes you a failure. Fat means you aren't a worker. Fat means you're probably greedy with food. Fat is something to be bred out of us or forced off of us and god forbid someone know they're loveable while fat. Patriarchy find fat people who love themselves and it tries to convince them with every breath that they should take it back. It's made to humiliate bodies that don't fit an imagined porn outline.

The Patriarchy hates you if you're a child. Boy or Girl it sets you up to assume distrust in each other. It eagerly shoves away children who don't fit a future beauty and behavior mold and even children who can pretend they fit, are left empty because it's not what they want to grow into. It's what the Patriarchy told them they had no choice but to grow into, as it covers their eyes and ears to better things.

...

Are there other words too? Yeah. There is. There's so many words that overlap and explain lots of these. And this is one of them.

It's for the demonization of masculinity in a society that recognizes only 1 as correct. It's about the Patriarchy and it being a glutton for giving punishment. It's about the System and how it intsects with us as people.

Please find it in you to understand that we are all fighting this together, and that Patriarchy whats you to hate a word more than you hate the system that made that word real.

[shoutaaizawas]

↳ aizawa shouta x reader → ❝cared for❞

summary: you are sick but your husband aizawa is always there to take care of you no matter what. word count: 1.4k+  tags/warnings: fluff and comfort a/n: i'm currently sick and my brain is super out of it so i hope this isn't terrible but i wanted to write something. now that im thinking of it i've actually done nanowrimo while i was sick, november isn't a good month for me lol anyways this was supposed to be a simple sick fic but i gave it a little depth. also i lost my taglist so if you want to be on it please message me.

masterlist

You were in denial. It was flu season but you could not possibly be getting a cold. The sore throat, just allergies. The runny nose, just from the cold weather. The fatigue that made you want to lay down forever, just because you had been working a lot.

You were not sick.

Aizawa on the other hand could see it before you had even noticed the symptoms. He was a teacher after all and nothing bred more illness than a school. Hero Academy included. He would suggest you get some extra rest or take something but you refused.

Pain pulsed in your skull, your throat burned and you had a cough that once it started didn’t stop. Not to mention the haze you were in, feeling disoriented and exhausted.

A hand touched your forehead as you lay in bed suffering the moments after waking up. “No fever, that’s a good sign,” Aizawa said sitting down, the weight of him on the bed next to you. “Sore throat?”

“Yeah,” You said, your voice barely working.

“Headache?” His voice was soothing, not too abrasive for your overwhelmed senses.

“Yeah,” It hurt to speak.

“Here’s some water,” He said helping you sit up to take a sip from your large water container you always toted around. You noted that he must have cleaned it out and refilled it since the water was icy.

“Thank you,” You said.

“Why don’t you take a hot shower, and change into your favorite bed clothes while I make you breakfast, yeah?” He said, his hand gently rubbing along your arm.

“Mhm,” You hummed. “Sounds nice.”

“Do you need help getting to the bathroom?” He asked.

“No,” You said sitting up, your head spinning for a moment. “Actually, maybe.”

Aizawa gave a soft small smile at your stubbornness even now. He helped you up, you were able to walk fine you just felt dizzy. He kept his arm around your shoulders just in case you got too dizzy.

“Thank you,” You said once you reached the bathroom, he made sure you were steady before leaving. You turned the shower water on hot before getting in. The warmth of the water did help your congestion and it was soothing. You stood there for way too long enjoying the steam before washing up. By the time you got out, there was a fresh warm towel and your favorite bedclothes folded on the counter. You smiled, Aizawa really spoiled you. Even more so when he knew you weren’t feeling good.

Returning to your bed you got back in, under the fluffy black comforter. You felt better even though taking a shower had been exhausting. Aizawa always knew best even when you didn’t want to admit it.

Aizawa returns with a tray table filled with food. You sit up, making sure the pillows are perfect as he sets down the tray. There’s miso soup with tofu and a bowl of rice as well as a cup of tea and medicine.

“Eat first and then take this medicine, it will help with the symptoms.” He said.

“Thank you, it looks good. I don’t know if I can taste though,” She joked.

“It will make you feel better that’s all that matters.” He said taking a spoonful of the soup before lifting it to your mouth.

If you told a younger version of yourself about this scene, your loving husband doting on you, feeding you soup, and bringing you everything you need while you’re sick. You would be shocked, perhaps even horrified.

For so long you had taken care of yourself through good and bad, you made yourself soup while you were sick. You pushed through it and did what you had to even if it meant passing out on the couch to take a nap in between taking care of yourself. You could never imagine letting someone dote on you to the point of feeding you.

Yet here you were. The journey had been long and not particularly easy. You could still remember the first time you had gotten sick, you denied it. Even as you struggled to stand, your face hot flushed with a fever. You had passed out and Aizawa carried you to bed. Even when you woke you tried to convince him you could get your own medicine and make your own soup. Aizawa had been patient but firm with you.

It had been hard to let someone take care of you but Aizawa made it easy. He was gentle and not condescending. It was so clear that everything he did was out of love, out of concern. It finally clicked when he had gotten sick, you wanted to do everything for him. You felt so helpless, you had wished you could take his pain away, even if it was just a cold.

Aizawa had struggled with being taken care of himself but with your new perspective, you had been able to convince him.

“I can get it myself,” He had said trying to get out of bed. You had pushed him gently back, he was too weak to resist.

“Remember when I was sick and trying to take care of myself?” You had asked. “You refused and took care of me. I still argued it then but now I get it.”

“Get it?” He questioned raising an eyebrow.

“I love you so much, I love taking care of you when you aren’t sick.” You said. “I hate seeing you like this the least I can do is take care of you since I can’t take this pain away.”

Your hand held his cheek, his dark eyes a bit hazy from the exhaustion of being sick but he was listening. “We aren’t alone anymore, we get to take care of each other, and accepting that care is just as much of a show of love as giving the care.”

Aizawa had smiled that warm smile of his and pulled you into a hug that did lead to you getting sick which meant you had to follow your own words by letting him take care of you when you were sick.

It was a process, learning to let someone care for you. He did it even when you weren’t sick, sometimes little things you almost missed like putting gas in your car or getting stuff off your grocery list. He never declared what he was doing looking for praise or fanfare. That didn’t mean you didn’t make a big deal out of it every time.

You did the same for him, the small things that helped daily life but you also loved shopping for him. The last thing Aizawa did was spoil himself. In fact, you weren’t sure you had ever seen him buy himself anything that was a luxury or a novelty. So you had taken it upon yourself to guess what things he might want if he ever did get it thought. You bought him fuzzy slippers with cats on them or a fictional book you thought he would like. Sometimes it was fancier things like cologne or a watch. Eventually, you got good at figuring out things he likes.

After eating your breakfast Aizawa took away the tray, leaving your tea on the bedside table. He returned and closed up the blinds making it dark in the room which made it a lot easier on your sensitive eyes. He crawled into bed with the remote putting on a show you had wanted to start for a while.

Despite how gross you looked and felt Aizawa pulled you in close, resting your head on his chest where you could still watch the show.

"You're gonna get sick," You mumbled against him, not exactly wanting him to move.

"I work at a school, my immune system is strong as it gets." He reassured you.

“If you get tired just sleep, I’ll pause the show.” He said softly, his hand rubbing your temple trying to alleviate the pain of your headache. “You need all the rest you can get.”

“Yes sir.” You said jokingly. You took his other hand in yours squeezing it gently. “Thank you again, for everything.”

“It’s nothing.” He dismissed.

“It’s everything,” You said moving his hand to your lips to press a kiss at the back of his hand. “You might want to wash your hand."

Aizawa laughed, your head moved against his chest.

“I love you,” He said.

“Love you more.” You replied.