#the table tilt test is brutal

[mysticaledelusion]

life update

so how are y’all’s 2025 going.

[p0orbaby]

this isn’t even getting a title because i can’t be bothered

SMUT 18+ couldn’t tell you what

-

The flat still smells faintly of the curry Leah insisted on cooking last night, even though you’d both agreed that her culinary experiments were best avoided. There’s a tension in the air tonight, not from any argument or unresolved issue, but from something unspoken, something that’s been simmering between you all day. It started in the kitchen this morning when Leah came up behind you, her hands sliding around your waist, her lips pressing into the curve of your neck in a way that was soft but insistent.

You didn’t have time then, and you told her as much, though you’d felt her smirk against your skin when you swatted her hand away. She thrives on moments like that, moments where she can push and tease and test the limits of your patience. By the time dinner came around, you could feel her watching you from across the table, her eyes sharp, her posture lazy but calculated. Leah Williamson doesn’t ask for what she wants; she demands it, and it’s that unspoken challenge in her that drives you to meet her with equal force.

Now, hours later, the atmosphere is thick. The curtains are half-drawn, the streetlight outside casting a dull orange glow against the wall. Leah is already on her knees, her palms pressed into the scratchy carpet as she glances back at you. Her hair is tied loosely at the nape of her neck, but strands have fallen free, sticking to her sweat-slicked temple. She looks wild like this—untamed, unguarded—and it hits you in a way that feels almost primal.

Her knees are already red from the friction, and you can tell she’s been shifting her weight, the faint tremor in her thighs betraying her impatience. You’ve made her wait longer than usual tonight, deliberately dragging out the anticipation because you know how much it riles her. She thrives on the tension, on the way you can take her to the edge of her restraint before pushing her over completely.

“You’re going to take forever, aren’t you?” she says, her voice sharp but breathless. There’s a bite to her tone, but it’s undercut by the way she arches her back, tilting her hips toward you in an unspoken plea.

“Maybe,” you reply, your voice low, clipped. You step forward, adjusting the harness against your hips with practiced precision. The weight of it is familiar now, grounding, and you tighten the straps until they dig into your skin.

Leah exhales sharply when your hands find her hips, your fingers gripping hard enough to make her flinch. You pull her back against you, her body shifting easily under your touch, and she lets out a low, impatient sound that makes you smirk.

“You’ve been waiting for this all day,” you murmur, your breath hot against her ear as you lean over her.

“Don’t make me beg,” she snaps, though the tremor in her voice betrays her.

You chuckle darkly, pulling back just enough to take in the sight of her—her flushed cheeks, the way her shoulders tense with every sharp breath. “I don’t think you could beg even if you tried,” you say, your tone mocking, challenging.

Her head turns slightly, her blue eyes meeting yours in a look that’s equal parts defiance and surrender. “Try me,” she says, her voice low, daring.

It’s all the invitation you need.

When you push into her, there’s no hesitation, no slow build. You drive forward with a force that makes her cry out, her body jerking against the pressure. Her hands scramble for purchase against the floor, her fingers curling into the carpet as she tries to hold herself steady.

The pace you set is merciless, your hips slamming against hers in a rhythm that’s brutal and unrelenting. Each thrust sends her forward, her knees dragging against the carpet until the skin there is raw, but she doesn’t complain. If anything, the sharp hiss of pain she lets out only spurs you on.

“Is this what you wanted?” you growl, your voice rough, breathless.

“Yes,” she gasps, her head dropping low, her forehead nearly touching the floor.

You grab a fistful of her hair, pulling her head back sharply until her back arches. Her breathing is ragged now, broken gasps that punctuate the sound of your bodies colliding.

“Look at you,” you murmur, your tone laced with mockery. “Completely at my mercy”

Leah lets out a sharp, fractured laugh that turns into a moan. “Fuck off,” she manages, though there’s no real venom in her voice.

You tug her hair harder, forcing her to meet your gaze. “What was that?”

“Don’t stop,” she says, her voice cracking. “Just—don’t stop.”

Her knees are slipping now, her thighs trembling with the effort to hold herself up. You release her hair, shoving her back down until her cheek presses against the carpet. Your hands find her hips again, your nails digging into her skin as you drive into her harder, faster.

Leah cries out, her body bowing under the force of your movements. The tension in her muscles snaps, and she collapses forward, her weight sinking into the floor. You don’t stop immediately, drawing out the moment until she’s gasping, her breaths shallow and uneven.

Finally, you slow, easing back as you catch your breath. The room feels impossibly small now, the air heavy and suffocating, but you don’t move.

Leah doesn’t move either, her body limp, her cheek pressed against the carpet. Sweat drips from her temple, pooling on the floor beneath her, and her knees are a mess of raw, angry red.

Eventually, she shifts, turning onto her side with a groan. Her face is flushed, her hair sticking to her damp skin, and her blue eyes flicker open to meet yours.

“You’re a menace,” she mutters, her voice hoarse.

You smirk, leaning back against the bed frame as you survey the aftermath. “And you love it”

She laughs softly, the sound low and breathless, and doesn’t bother to argue.

[ebongawk]

WAIT OK I HAVE ANOTHER ONE it’s prob cheating to send two so you can save this for another time but!!!! just chrissy fidgeting w eddie’s jewelry. his rings, his necklace. like she’s anxious abt smth and over time learned instead of like biting her nails or pulling hangnails or smth he’ll let her do that

Chrissy always had an issue with biting her nails.

As a child, whenever she was anxious about school, or nervous about dance competitions or cheer routines, her nails found their way between her teeth, chewed ragged and brittle.

Her mother called her disgusting. A ruler or wooden spoon was often produced, seemingly from thin air, to smack Chrissy across the back of her hands whenever they found their way into her mouth.

The main reason she started painting her nails was because the chemical taste of the polish made her nauseous. As her issues with food worsened, nausea became increasingly harder to control, and she found herself in the bathroom more often than not.

Her nerves, however, found new ways to ruin her.

Using those pretty nails she now sported, Chrissy dug into her cuticles. Picking at dry skin or tiny abrasions, creating hangnails she could then tear away.

Jason called her disgusting. Lightly smacking her hands with his own or with his school notebooks. Telling her constantly that every part of her was so pretty, but she was ruining her hands. Ruining the illusion of beauty he cast upon her by reminding him that she was human.

She couldn't break up with her mom. But she did break up with Jason.

Free of his oppressing weight, the urge to pick at her nailbeds lessened. It didn't disappear completely, of course, but she found healthy skin growing over her tiny scars.

Then she started hanging out with Eddie. And, for a little while, she didn't even notice how her fingertips stopped bleeding.

One day, sitting at the lunch table Eddie and his friends occupied, Chrissy's mind had been sloughing through the finals they had coming up. She was decently confident about most of them, but O'Donnell could be killer when it came to testing. Often asking things not covered by the study guide, so she and Eddie had spent the past four afternoons in his bedroom, textbooks open and flashcards made, trying to get one another ready for their teacher's unhinged brutality.

Her anxiety, during this thought spiral, had heightened exponentially. She stopped moving all at once when she remembered that Sandra had taken a bad scrape during practice yesterday – cheer season was over, but Chrissy was determined to keep the younger girls occupied through the year so they wouldn't be so rusty when they came back in August – and she'd used her last band-aid for the scrapes.

Sighing, Chrissy looked down to inspect the damage.

And saw Eddie's hand in her lap.

She glanced over. Eddie was still fully engaged in whatever conversation he was having with Jeff – his unoccupied hand twisting and twirling through the air to accentuate his points. But his left hand was loose between hers, one of his rings twisted to face his palm.

Chrissy twisted the ring back to right. Then did another circuit, finding it strange how natural it was to fiddle with his rings.

Looking up at Eddie again, he met her eye with a curious smile. Tilting his head to one side in silent question that she just shrugged at, instead scooting the tiniest bit closer and dropping herself seamlessly back into the conversation.

She didn't think of it again for a few weeks. Until she and Eddie were tucked up at his home, watching some British scary movie called Underworld and sharing a bowl of popcorn. They'd started the evening next to one another, but as the movie progressed, Chrissy found herself almost entirely in Eddie's lap. Curling into his side with every scary part, until her knees were tucked up to her chest and her feet were pressed between his thighs.

Every jump scare made her wince, shoving her face into Eddie's shoulder and peeking through one eye until the scary parts were over.

The movie was almost completely finished before she registered Eddie's hand in her lap. Her fingers twisting the rings around his over and over, slipping them up and down his knuckles.

Her nailbeds had never looked so healthy.

Remaining quiet until the previews ran, Chrissy slipped from Eddie's lap, standing and stretching as Eddie moved to flip on the light.

"What'dya think?" he asked, picking up the popcorn bowl and a few stray kernels before walking it into the kitchen. "Weird, yeah? Did I fill your weekly scary movie prescription, Miss Cunningham?"

She'd told him, ages ago, that she wanted to start liking scary movies, because he loved them so much. They now had a weekly movie date, watching something from his repertoire of slasher films before loading one of her favorite romance tapes into the VCR.

(Tonight, it was Breakfast at Tiffany's.)

"Yes, Dr. Munson, it was exactly what I needed," she said around a grin, walking into the kitchen with him. He had his back to her, squatting in front of the fridge for another movie snack, and Chrissy wrapped her arms around his shoulders. Hoisting herself onto his back and pressing her cheek against his neck.

Beneath her, Eddie let out a little chuckle. Something Chrissy turned her head to taste with her lips against his spine.

"That freaked out, sweetness?" he asked, grabbing a jar of the strawberry jam he kept just for her and a couple cans of Coke before standing. Keeping herself firmly affixed to his body with her legs around his waist.

"No," Chrissy answered. "Just wanted to be close to you, that's all."

Eddie huffed, setting his wares down and yanking her further up his back. Situating her to be a little more comfortable before he grabbed peanut butter and the half-eaten loaf of bread from the pantry.

"Yeah?" He paused in his actions, setting the clean butter knife he'd just grabbed next to the jam. "We can, uh. We can get a hell of a lot closer, y'know. If that's your real aim here."

Gosh, he could be such a boy sometimes. Chrissy snorted, burying her face in his neck.

"But what about Breakfast at Tiffany's?"

"Audrey Hepburn will be waiting for us when we're finished, sweet girl." The hand around her knee slid up, gently stroking the outside of her thigh. "Or we can put her on in the background. Make her bear witness to our incredible physical connection."

"Eddie."

"Chrissy."

Rolling her eyes, Chrissy tapped her healthy, wound-free fingertips against his collar.

"Bedroom," she finally said, laughing loudly when Eddie whooped and threw a fist in the air before sprinting down the hallway.

After, as they lay together in a sweaty pile of contentment, Chrissy snuggled into Eddie's chest. Eyes closed, relishing in the smooth, easy way his hand drifted up and down her side, from her hip to her ribs and down again.

"Eddie?"

"Hmm?" He took a final puff of his cigarette before ashing it.

"When did you notice that I pick at my nails?"

He hummed, rolling that thought around in his mind.

"I dunno," he admitted after a moment. "Early, I guess? Beginning."

Tapping her fingers against his stomach, she took his hand where it had continuously been drifting against her skin, bringing it up and pressing her lips against the rings.

"How come I didn't realize you distracted me?"

"I can't answer that, sweetness," he responded around a shrug. "I just figured you needed something to fiddle with. Better my hands than yours, in my opinion."

Chrissy paused, letting that sink in, before she opened her eyes and looked at him.

"What, so you were gonna let me pick at your nails?"

Eddie just shrugged again, a new grin stretching his cheeks. Dimples coming to life under her disbelieving grimace.

"If that's what it took."

"Eddie, that's so gross."

"Guess it's good you picked at my rings and not my nails then, huh?"

"Why would you let anyone––"

"Not anyone," he interrupted, taking her hand in his and letting her fingertips fall across his lips. "Just you."

Oh, the way he could so simply send a swarm of butterflies to flight in her stomach.

"I don't want you to hurt yourself," he said after a moment, honesty dripping like honey from his words. Sprinkling droplets of sticky sincerity across her skin, so she'd feel the mess of his truths for days and years to come. Waggling his eyebrows, he finished by saying, "But I don't mind if you hurt me a little sometimes."

"Eddie."

"Slap me, baby, I know you want to."

"Oh, my God."

[djloveyou3000]

Belladonna

Chapter seventeen

As they walked, soldiers stopped whatever they were doing to salute Perseus. “Sir,” they said with crisp respect, their voices unwavering. But when their eyes fell on Bell, their tones softened, their salutes accompanied by polite smiles. “Good afternoon, ‘Name.’” Bell nodded back shyly, still not entirely used to the respect they commanded simply by being at Perseus’ side.

Of course, there had been those who didn’t treat Bell with the deference they deserved. Perseus had handled those incidents swiftly and brutally, making examples of the offenders. The stories of his methods were whispered among the ranks like cautionary tales. No one dared repeat their mistakes. To everyone on base, Bell wasn’t just a child; they were Perseus’ child, and that made them untouchable.

Arriving at the meeting room, Perseus guided Bell inside, his hand never leaving theirs. The room was filled with high-ranking officers, each one rising to their feet as Perseus entered. The meeting commenced promptly, and Bell sat beside him, their small hands folded neatly in their lap as they listened intently. Though they didn’t fully understand every word, they clung to each phrase Perseus spoke, watching him with wide, admiring eyes. To Bell, Perseus was more than a father—he was their hero, their entire world.

As the meeting went on, Bell’s attention wavered. The long discussions and unfamiliar terminology were beginning to take their toll. They tried to fight it, rubbing their eyes and sitting up straighter, but the heaviness in their eyelids was winning. Perseus, ever observant, noticed immediately. Without breaking stride in his conversation, he reached down, scooped Bell up effortlessly, and placed them on his lap. His large hand rested on their back, gently rubbing in soothing circles. The unspoken message was clear: It’s okay to rest.

Bell hesitated for only a moment before surrendering to the comfort of his embrace. They nestled against his chest, lulled by the steady rhythm of his heartbeat and the deep timbre of his voice as he continued the meeting. Within minutes, they were fast asleep, their small frame completely relaxed in his arms.

When Bell woke, they found themselves wrapped in Perseus’ jacket, the fabric so large it swallowed them completely. Its familiar scent was comforting, a mix of leather, smoke, and something uniquely him. They blinked groggily, taking in their surroundings. Perseus was seated at his desk nearby, his pen scratching against paper as he worked through a mountain of documents.

Noticing their movement, he turned to them, his stern face softening into a rare smile. “Ah, my child, you’re awake. Good.” He set down his pen and gestured for them to come closer. “I saw your test scores this morning,” he continued, his voice warm with pride. “You did excellent work. I’m very proud of you.”

Bell’s face lit up, a wide smile spreading across their face. Scrambling off the couch, they hurried to him. Perseus caught them effortlessly, lifting them onto his lap. He reached for a stack of papers on the desk and held them out for Bell to see. “Look here,” he said, pointing to the top score on the page. “You aced this exam. Truly remarkable.”

Bell clung to his words, beaming with pride. “Thank you, Perseus!” they said, hugging him tightly. His arms encircled them, holding them close for a moment before he patted their back.

“Come,” he said, standing and shifting them onto his hip. “I don’t know about you, but I’m hungry. Let’s get something to eat.”

Bell nodded eagerly. “I’m hungry too! Can we have cake after, please?” They tilted their head, giving him their best pleading look.

Perseus chuckled, his deep voice rumbling in his chest. “Of course. You’ve earned it today.”

As they left the office, Perseus reached over to a nearby table and picked up a small Hello Kitty plush. “I believe this is yours,” he said, holding it out.

Bell’s eyes sparkled as they grabbed the plushie, hugging it tightly. “Thank you!” they exclaimed, their voice full of happiness. His gaze softened as he watched them, but his expression returned to its usual unreadable blankness the moment they stepped into view of the soldiers. The gentle father figure was gone, replaced by the formidable leader. Still, the weight of Bell’s small arms around his neck and the sight of their delighted smile remained, grounding him in a way nothing else could.

The mess hall was bustling with activity, but the moment Perseus entered, the room quieted. Soldiers stood to attention, their conversations halting mid-sentence. Perseus ignored the stares, his focus solely on Bell, who was clinging to his neck and chattering excitedly about their day.

At the food line, Perseus selected a balanced meal for both of them, adding an extra slice of cake for Bell at the end. They found a quiet table in the corner, and Perseus set Bell down, helping them arrange their tray. The sight of Bell eagerly digging into their food brought a rare smile to his face.

After their meal, they returned to Perseus’ quarters, where Bell played quietly with their plushie while Perseus finished his paperwork. By the time the sun had set, Bell was back in his arms, dozing off with their head on his shoulder. Perseus stroked their hair gently, his usual cold demeanor melting into something warmer.

For all his ruthlessness and power, this small child had become his anchor, his one soft spot in an otherwise unforgiving world.

[yumikk101]

The Start of Something Slow

Featuring wriothesley

Idea by jynxiebee

The heavy iron gates groaned shut behind you, their sound echoing down the cold stone corridors of the Fortress of Meropide The weight of imprisonment hit you immediately—not just the physical confinement, but the crushing atmosphere of tension that clung to every shadowed corner

Prisoners moved in packs, their eyes sharp and filled with quiet malice. You noticed early on which group seemed the most dangerous—a collection of inmates gathering influence like embers waiting to ignite. Staying out of their way seemed like the best choice, so you kept your head down and adapted to life in the fortress without complaint. For the first few days, no one seemed to care about your arrival. But Wriothesley noticed

You caught his gaze from across the yard a few times—blue eyes sharp and assessing He never lingered long, nor gave any sign that you stood out among the hundreds of prisoners under his watch, but there was something deliberate about the way his gaze always found you. It wasn’t kindness or concern. It was observation, like a man cataloging details for later

Weeks passed, and the tension in the air thickened. The group you’d been avoiding grew bolder with each passing day, testing the guards’ patience, plotting behind closed doors. You could feel it coming—the riot, the explosion of chaos they’d been stirring up since you arrived. It was only a matter of time before everything would snap

When the first fist was thrown, the riot erupted like a tidal wave, sweeping through the prison. The sound of shattering glass, roaring voices, and metal scraping against stone filled the fortress. Tables flipped, inmates clashed with guards, and a thick cloud of smoke from overturned torches began to choke the air

You had the chance to slip away unnoticed, to hide in the chaos until the storm passed But something stopped you. The sight of guards—young, tired, outnumbered—being dragged to the ground twisted something in your gut

You clenched your fists, cursed under your breath, and made a decision you’d later question

Instead of running, you fought

You grabbed rioters by their collars, yanking them off guards, kicking them back into the fray. One of the more violent inmates swung a heavy pipe at your head. You ducked, slammed your shoulder into their ribs, and sent them sprawling. But the fight was relentless. A sharp elbow caught your jaw, and someone shoved you into a wall, leaving your ribs screaming with pain. Still, you refused to stop

Through the chaos, you spotted Wriothesley at the center of it all, his movements controlled and efficient. He wasn’t just shutting down the riot; he was dismantling it piece by piece, breaking apart the rebellion with brutal precision. But even in the middle of the chaos, his sharp gaze found you again—and this time, it lingered

For one suspended moment, the two of you locked eyes across the riot. The look on Wriothesley’s face was hard to read—something between curiosity and disbelief Inmates swarmed around him, but his gaze remained fixed on you as if you’d done something he couldn’t quite fathom

And maybe you had

But that moment cost you. A rioter blindsided you, slamming into your side and driving you to the ground. You hit the cold stone hard, your head bouncing off the floor, and everything went blurry at the edges Pain throbbed in your ribs, sharp and merciless, making it hard to breathe

Before you could try to push yourself up, strong hands gripped your arms, hauling you from the ground. For a brief, disorienting moment, you thought another inmate had grabbed you—but the familiar scent of cold metal and saltwater told you otherwise

“Stay down,” came Wriothesley’s low, commanding voice, close to your ear

His arm was firm around your waist, holding you upright with surprising gentleness for a man who’d just taken down half a riot. The world tilted around you, your vision swimming as he pulled you out of the chaos. You leaned into him, the warmth of his coat a strange comfort amid the riot’s cold violence

The next thing you knew, you were lying on a cot in the infirmary. The room smelled of herbs and antiseptic, and your ribs were tightly bound in clean bandages. The throbbing in your head had dulled to a manageable ache, though every muscle in your body still protested with every movement

You heard footsteps, heavy and deliberate, approach your bed. Wriothesley stood beside you, arms crossed, his gaze as cold and unreadable as ever—but there was something different this time

“You should’ve stayed out of it.” His voice was low, but there was no anger in it. Just observation, as if he were trying to make sense of what he’d seen

You winced as you shifted to sit up, your ribs reminding you of the price you’d paid “Didn’t seem right to just watch”

A flicker of something—respect, perhaps—passed across his features, though it vanished almost as quickly as it appeared. “You got yourself hurt for nothing. They don’t care”

“Maybe not,” you admitted “But it was worth it”

Wriothesley watched you for a long moment, his gaze heavier than before. It wasn’t just the weight of a warden assessing a prisoner; it was something deeper, more personal. For the first time, you sensed that the man before you wasn’t just a cold enforcer of rules. There was curiosity there—something that went beyond mere interest

He didn’t say anything more, but the way his gaze lingered made it clear: you were no longer just another inmate to him. You’d stood out, not just in the riot, but in a way that had lodged itself under his skin. And though he would never say it aloud, he was already thinking about you more than he should

“Rest,” he finally said, his voice softer now, almost thoughtful “You’ll need your strength”

And with that, Wriothesley turned and left, his footsteps heavy against the stone floor

Days passed since the riot, and life in the fortress settled back into its cold, predictable rhythm—or at least, it tried to For you, the ache in your ribs served as a constant reminder of that night, but something else lingered, too—Wriothesley’s touch, the warmth of his arm around your waist, and the look in his eyes just before he pulled you from the chaos

You told yourself it was nothing. Just a warden doing his job. But the way his gaze followed you now, with more weight than ever before, suggested otherwise

At first, it was small things. You’d catch him watching you from across the courtyard, his gaze steady and unreadable. When the guards brought food to the cells, your tray somehow always contained more than the others. You told yourself it was a coincidence—until it happened again. And again

Then came the unexpected encounters Passing by him in the hallways, you'd exchange silent glances, and though no words were spoken, it felt like something was building between the two of you, slow and deliberate

One evening, after the day’s shift ended, you found yourself alone in the library—a rare moment of peace. The room smelled of aged paper and dust, dim light casting long shadows against the stone walls. You thought you’d finally escaped the heavy eyes of the fortress for a moment, only to hear the slow, measured steps of boots behind you

You didn’t need to turn around to know who it was

“You’ve been keeping out of trouble,” Wriothesley said from behind you, his voice low and calm

You glanced over your shoulder, meeting his gaze. “Should I take that as a compliment?”

A hint of a smirk played at the edge of his lips, though it was fleeting. “You’ve been... different”

You raised an eyebrow, unsure whether to laugh at the comment or be wary. “Different how?”

Wriothesley stepped closer, his presence casting a weight over the room. He wasn’t the kind of man to mince words, but something about the way he looked at you made you feel like he was holding back—not from cruelty, but from caution. As if he wasn’t sure what line he was about to cross

“I don’t usually meet prisoners who stop riots instead of joining them,” he said, his voice quieter now

You leaned back against the shelf, folding your arms across your chest. “And here I thought you’d be used to surprises”

His gaze didn’t waver, and for a moment, you both stood there in silence. The fortress walls felt a little less oppressive under his steady presence, and something unfamiliar stirred between you—a thread of understanding, tenuous but real

“Why did you do it?” he asked finally, as if the question had been sitting with him since the riot

You shrugged, though the memory of the chaos still weighed on your chest. “Seemed like the right thing to do”

Wriothesley gave you a long, considering look, and for the first time, you saw something soften in his expression. Not kindness exactly—more like respect, shaded with something else you couldn’t quite name

“Don’t make a habit of it,” he murmured “Next time, I might not be around to pull you out”

The words lingered in the air between you—more warning than joke. And yet, the way he said it made your heart trip over itself. There was concern buried in those words, no matter how much he tried to hide it

The days that followed were quieter. But the space between you and Wriothesley felt charged, like a storm gathering on the horizon

He never said much during your brief encounters, but his presence alone carried weight. When he passed by you in the halls, the brush of his coat against your arm was enough to set your pulse racing. When you caught him watching you from across the mess hall, his gaze seemed to linger, as if waiting for you to meet it. And each time you did, there was an unspoken exchange—a promise, or perhaps a warning, that neither of you dared to voice

Wriothesley wasn’t the kind of man to make grand gestures, but the small things were enough. The way he adjusted patrol schedules so you were spared from dealing with the worst inmates. How he made sure your work assignments weren’t as punishing as the others’. And the occasional flicker of amusement in his gaze when you spoke without fear in a place where silence was usually safest

It was slow. Painfully slow. But there was no denying that something was building between you—a connection stitched together by stolen glances, fleeting touches, and conversations that hinted at more than either of you dared to admit

And maybe that was enough, for now

One evening, after another exhausting shift, you found yourself sitting on the steps near the central courtyard. The night air was cold, biting at your skin, but you welcomed it—it felt better than the suffocating warmth of the prison

You didn’t hear him approach, but you felt the familiar weight of his gaze settle over you

“Rough day?” Wriothesley’s voice was quiet, almost hesitant

You glanced up to see him standing a few steps away, his expression unreadable as always. There was no reason for him to be here—no riot, no trouble, no excuse to speak to you

“Something like that,” you replied, shifting to make room beside you

For a moment, you thought he might leave. But then, slowly, he sat down beside you. The two of you sat in silence, the fortress humming quietly around you, and the space between you felt smaller than usual

It was Wriothesley who broke the silence first. “I don’t usually get involved with inmates”

The words were a warning, but the way he said them didn’t feel like a dismissal

If anything, it felt like an admission—like he was trying to tell you that whatever this was, it was dangerous for both of you

You tilted your head, studying him. “And yet, here you are”

He let out a breath, something between a sigh and a laugh “Yeah. Here I am”

It wasn’t much. Just two people sitting on cold stone steps, sharing a moment that felt fragile but real. But it was enough to make you realize that whatever was happening between you and Wriothesley, it wasn’t going away anytime soon

*To be continued*

[hanmaitani]

Turn Me Into Someone Else

PAIRING - Tendou Satori x Reader WC - 1.0K GENRE - fluff What You Missed - seeing satori on a casual basis was supposed to have clear boundaries… unfortunately, the lines have long since started to blur between what you're supposed to be and what you are.

PREV PART | MASTERLIST | NEXT PART

Your laugh rang loudly through the restaurant, a barking sound that explodes out of you on accident and you quickly slapped a hand over your mouth to prevent yourself from causing any more chaos.

Your eyes widened as you looked across the table at Satori, heavy puffs of air coming from your nose against your palm as you tried to keep quiet.

"Tori! You can't say that about her!" You chastised him, but your quiet laughter didn't cease, shoulders shaking as you stifled your noise level.

"Why not?" He laughed, not caring who in the restaurant seemed to look towards the pair of you in your booth. "It's not like it's a lie, you know it." His laughter seemed to infect you, it was impossible to get away from its grip.

"Oh I can't stand you." You giggled at your own tease and messed with the napkin on your lap. "That's our professor." You huffed through your nose in exchange for another laugh, trying to look away from him in hopes that your laughter would die down.

"Your professor. Not mine anymore." He said in response, and you didn't have to look at him to know he was pointing his fork at you as he said it, a smirk on his face before you could hear the crunch of the utensil impaling another piece of lettuce from the salad you two had started the meal with.

You snuck a glance over at him, testing your ability to hold in your laughter. And quickly failed… miserably.

You broke into another fit of giggles and a smile tugged at the corner of his lips at the sight and sound of you across the table from him, laughing over dinner in a public place. A tugging on his heart that brutally reminded him of what the two of you were.

"Okay, okay no more making me laugh." You held your hands out over the table like the decision was final when your giggles died down. "If you make me laugh when our food comes out and pasta goes up my nose or something, I think I'd actually kill you and then myself out of embarrassment."

He snorted a bit at the statement, gleaming as he saw you wipe tears out of the corners of your eyes. "That'd be a sight, remind me to snap a picture before you kill me, yeah?"

Your jaw dropped open in disbelief at him, dramatically gasping. "You wouldn't dare!" Satori opened his mouth to respond but a voice above you interrupted before he could begin.

"Pardon the interruption, but your food." You smiled up at the waiter, mouthing a soft thank you as he placed your food down followed by Satori's.

You both were quiet until he fully left the table and then- "What was I saying again?" You tilted your head in confusion, studying your fork as you tried to recall the reason you were pretending to be so betrayed by Satori only moments before.

"Hmm? Oh. Not sure." Satori was quick to respond but the poorly hidden smirk enticed you to playfully glare at him. "Food came just in time, though. I'm starving."

"Dessert?" You asked, as the waiter took away your and Satori's plates. "I don't think I could eat another bite, but if you wanted some."

Satori was smirking over at you as you spoke, sipping on the sickly sweet drink he'd ordered as he did so. "I could think of one thing that I'd want for dessert."

His eyes trailed up and down your form and you laughed nervously, heat starting in your cheeks and crawling down to your throat, forcing you to cough a bit as you hurriedly looked around to be sure that no one else heard his bold remark.

"Satori." You hissed lowly, frantic eyes still looking around before you fixed a glare on him. "Not in public."

"Relaaax," he chuckled lowly and the sound seemed to rocket through you, finding its way straight to your core, "no one heard me."

You rolled your eyes slightly but smiled anyways at the playfulness in his voice. You cleared your throat a little bit when he grabbed your hand for attention. It seemed to burn at the contact point, you were sure that it might set the table on fire, but neither of you let go.

"Check?" The waiter asked, your cheeks burned more when you noticed him smiling down at where your and Satori's hands were connected on the table.

You quickly retracted your hand, wringing them in your own lap, missing the brief hurt that flashed on Satori's face when you did so. "Yeah, I think so." Satori nodded his consent and smiled when he was handed the check. "Hey!" You protested quickly, trying to grab the check from Satori's hands as he quickly tucked his card into the folder and handed it back to the waiter.

"What?" He laughed as you gave him an incredulous look. You gestured towards the waiter as he disappeared, mouth opening and closing, looking for words. "You think I'm gonna let you pay for a date I invited you on?"

Your chest pulled at the word date, clenching around the word, clinging to it as you smiled at him. "Whatever." You sighed and stood up, smiling when he scrambled to follow suit, following you towards the waiter as he was walking back with a receipt and the card. "I've got the next one then."

You weren't sure what compelled you to say it, to play into the scene that you and Satori played through. Going on dates wasn't something friends with benefits did. But here you were.

Satori was the one who felt the pulling this time. Smile wide on his face as he exchanged the waiter, his card for a cash tip. Next time.

"So… my place?" His hand slid down your waist, resting on your hip and pulling you closer. You swatted at his hand with a laugh but followed his lead nonetheless.

TAGLIST - OPEN

@faumpje @all-in-the-fandoms @pearl-blue-musings

[darkenedroses-world]

Against the Edge — Smii7y x Reader

f!reader, semi-public, dom!Smii7y, brat!reader, dirty talk, hair pulling, choking (light), overstimulation, teasing, marking, begging, request🦋

The atmosphere buzzed with energy, the low hum of music and laughter spilling in from the other room. It was supposed to be a casual night in with friends—games, jokes, and way too much banter. But something in Smii7y’s eyes, the way he’d been watching you all evening, had sent a shiver down your spine. It was that look: sharp, teasing, and hungry. When he finally cornered you in the dim hallway, pressing you back against the wall with a firm hand braced beside your head, you were already a little breathless. “You’ve been pushing it tonight,” he murmured, his voice low and laced with amusement. “Thought I wouldn’t notice the way you’ve been teasing me?” You blinked up at him innocently, a smirk tugging at your lips. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” “Oh, you don’t?” His other hand grabbed your chin, tilting your head back. “Then I guess I’ll just have to remind you who you’re playing with.” Before you could answer, his lips crashed into yours—hard, demanding, and without hesitation. His teeth scraped against your bottom lip as he kissed you deeper, swallowing the soft moan that escaped your throat. You gasped when he pulled back, only to feel his hand tangle in your hair, tugging just enough to tilt your head back further. “You like being a brat, don’t you?” he growled, his breath hot against your skin. “Always testing me. You think I won’t put you in your place?” A spark shot through you, heat pooling in your stomach as you bit your lip. “Maybe you’re all talk.”

Smii7y’s laugh was dark and rough as his hand tightened in your hair. “Careful what you wish for, sweetheart.” He didn’t give you time to respond. Within moments, you found yourself pressed face-first against the nearby table, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he leaned over you, his body flush against yours. “You’re gonna regret that attitude.” Smii7y was relentless. His touch was everywhere—grabbing, teasing, dominating—until your breath came in shallow, desperate gasps. He yanked your jeans down, his hand coming down hard against your ass with a sharp smack that left you squirming. “Still wanna mouth off?” he taunted, his voice dripping with satisfaction as you whimpered beneath him. “Fuck you,” you shot back, your voice shaking but defiant. Another smack. “Oh, you will,” he promised, flipping you over so you were staring up at him. His eyes were dark now, his control unraveling just enough to make you shiver. He reached down, his hand wrapping lightly around your throat as he leaned closer, his lips brushing against yours.

“Beg for it.”

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding as you stared into his eyes. He waited patiently, his fingers flexing just enough to remind you who was in charge. “Please,” you whispered, your voice soft but needy. “I want you.” “Louder.” “Please, Jaren. I need you.” That was all it took. He crashed into you again, kissing you roughly as his hands roamed your body, leaving no inch untouched. His teeth dragged against your skin, leaving marks along your neck and collarbone that you knew would linger. When he finally pushed into you, the stretch was almost too much, and you cried out, gripping his shoulders tightly. Smii7y didn’t stop. He set a brutal pace, each thrust driving you closer to the edge until you were falling apart beneath him. “Look at you,” he growled against your ear. “You’re so fucking perfect like this—taking everything I give you.” Your nails raked down his back, your body arching as he continued, drawing moans and whimpers from you with every movement. He didn’t stop when you came the first time—or the second. Smii7y was relentless, pulling every sound, every reaction from you until you were begging him for mercy. “I can’t—” you gasped, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as your body shook. “Yes, you can,” he said firmly, his hand tilting your chin so you had no choice but to look at him. “You’re mine. I’m not done with you yet.” When he finally let you fall apart one last time, your body felt weightless, every nerve lit up like fire. Smii7y slowed, pressing soft kisses to your shoulder and neck as he brought you back down from the edge.

“You did so good for me,” he murmured, his voice softer now as he gently pulled you against his chest. His hands traced soothing circles along your back, grounding you in the aftermath. “You okay?” You nodded weakly, letting out a breathless laugh. “I think you broke me.” Smii7y chuckled, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Nah. I’ll put you back together, don’t worry.” The two of you stayed there, tangled together in the quiet. His fingers brushed over the marks he’d left, a mix of pride and tenderness in his touch. “I like you like this,” he murmured, his voice teasing but warm. “Quiet. Sweet.” “Don’t get used to it,” you shot back, your voice muffled against his chest. His laugh was soft and full of affection. “Wouldn’t dream of it, sweetheart.”

[kalixora]

“I’m death. Straight up.”

Gaz x reader (Kinda🦭)

. Uhhh surprise?

INSPIRATION: Puss in Boots: The Last Wish

I watched the movie again...

Codename: Death

“Task 141. The dangerous ones without guns, a secret force that hides in the shadows and takes down enemies far and wide… and yet here we are, like a cat on its last life.”

Price narrowed his gaze, taking in your presence was one thing. But speaking with you directly was a different matter entirely; it was like being in the presence of death itself.

And what you were / are Death. When it was to your advantage, you were cold, cruel, brutal, and at times empathetic. You were frequently kept under close observation since you had a reputation for making a statement, but that didn't deter you.

"Do you find this amusing?" Price inquired sternly.

“Very,” you mused.

“Why’s that?”

“Because, your standing in here with me alone with no backup.”

Price hummed, crossing his arms, a powerful bodily movement he knew wouldn't bother you, but he needed to get control of the situation. You were both aware that you had the overwhelming advantage, as you always did. This was body language to catch your attention, and you enjoyed a good test.

"Captain, why are you here?" You chuckled. "I can't imagine the strings you pulled to stand in a room with me; are you sure you don't want to smoke one of those cigars?"

“No,” Price leaned to the side and took out a little piece of paper and a pen. He set it on the table and slid it halfway to you. You took the paper and read it as you looked at him, mystified. Your sneer, on the other hand, never wavered. As you tap the pen against the table, a small chuckle escapes your lips.

“What’s this a permission slip?”

“You could say that, yes.”

You hummed as you leaned back in your chair, your gaze scanning the Captain's face, which was solemn. Without a doubt, serious.

"I'm flattered, believe me, but why me? You have Ghost don't you? Say how is Simon doing? Is he behaving himself? And how is Kyle? Still attractive?"

Price nods, “They’re fine.”

“Mmmm, so what’s the problem captain? Tired of your life flashing before your eyes?”

“Then I wouldn’t be good at my job, so here’s the deal- I want you to join my task force, your a powerhouse and from I’ve gathered a lone wolf, even lone wolves stray from packs yeah?”

“Correct.”

“I think it’s time we put that line wolf back with a pack, what do ya say?”

You began to snicker, “That was a cheesy analogy Price but, not to shabby, let me explain something to you, a wolf who distances themselves from the world is called a traitor but one who stays is called a deceiver.”

“That so? There’s a fine line between right and wrong, if the wolf becomes a deceiver and a traitor what do you make of the pack…”

“They meet death.”

“I see… so then do we all know death?”

“Only when it comes to you,” you say with the tilt of your head. “Even the strongest of us Captain will always live a life of fear.”

Price stood up and walked out of the room, where Kate stood on the other side. Price let out a rough sigh and shook his head, one more minute with you in there and it was a wrap. He lost.

“Well,” Kate hummed, “what they say?”

“Bloody bastard didn’t give an answer…”

“I told you.”

“I know…”

“They’ll come.”

Price turned to Laswell his expression was unreadable but she could tell he was irritated. “What makes you so sure?”

“Known Death for a long time, shows up when your in distress… don’t worry to much captain, they’ll show.”

…

The mission has gone to complete shit, Price didn’t know if this was a set up from the get go. Gaz had gone missing and Soap managed to tackle someone out the window and got shot at the same time. Ghost tried to contact Gaz for at least thirty minutes now but the only thing he got back was static. Price searched high and low but each trail of blood he followed they all lead to different bodies, but never Gaz.

Soap: Price how copy?

Price: Copy, report?

Soap: No sign of Gaz, just different bodies

Ghost: He may be unconscious somewhere

Price: That means we have a chance, cover more ground under.

Soap leaned against the wall getting ready to shoot the target unaware of everything about to unfold. He found Gaz the second Price said those words, Gaz was unconscious like Ghost said but, he wasn’t alone.

There was someone else nearby, and they were whistling?

Soap cringed slightly at the tone of the whistle it sounded creepy and off putting yet fascinating. The whistle came closer as Soap peered around the corner seeing the person standing directly over Gaz, Soap placed his finger in the trigger of his gun aiming at them.

“Relax comrade.”

Soap stepped out of his corner fully seeing that you had a blade directly in front of Gaz’s face inches away from inserting it.

“Excuse you?”

“I’m one of you,” you chuckle before standing up fully, you held eye contact with Soap as you got closer to him, “Go on, pick him up.”

Soap stared at you unsure, he wanted to call Price or Ghost, you stood on the side of him now glaring at him. “Pick. Him. Up.”

Soap kept an eye on you while moving quickly towards Gaz, he checked his pulse then began to lift him up placing his arm over his shoulder before turning back to you. You were gone. Without a sound.

Soap managed his way with Gaz and finally reaching it to the others and setting course for base. Soap didn’t say anything the whole ride over, his mind was racing of the thoughts of you, who were you? What were you? What did you mean one of them?

Once landed they all made way to see Laswell, where she stood outside her door waiting for them with a file in her hand. “How’s he doing?”

“Alright, doctor says he should be awake within the next hour or so,” Price answered he tone sounding relieved.

“Something the matter Johnny?” Ghost asked as the two began to head over to see Gaz in the infirmary.

“I don’t know how to explain it, it was so- bloody weird,” Soap says through his confusion. “Did Price mention having a new recruit?”

“Not that I’m aware of,” Ghost hummed.

Ghost opened the door to the infirmary stopping as he stared inside, Soap peered in the room seeing you again. Right by Gaz’s side. You had your hand on his forehead and you were whispering something to him. In which Gaz began to react to it, his chest moved up and down as if he was chuckling, and he was. His eye fluttering open being met with your piercing gaze.

“Y/N…” Gaz muttered giving you a small smile.

“Rise and shine sleeping beauty, how are feeling?” You say as you look up at Ghost and Soap entering the room. You waved at the two of them, “Ah there you two are, was starting to think you wouldn’t show.”

“Y/N…” Ghost said almost in disbelief.

“Simon,” you greeted with a smile. “You’ve seen better days.”

“Are you the new recruit?” Ghost asked.

“That I am,” you replied. “Soap right?” You said fixing your gaze on him.

Soap nods, “Bloody hell are ya?”

“ Death.”

“Death?” Soap chuckles, “As in what?”

“Not any other fancy way, I’m Death straight up.”

[enjomo-arch]

𝗙𝗟𝗔𝗠𝗘 𝗖𝗢𝗠𝗠𝗔𝗡𝗗 : 𝗘𝗨𝗦𝗧𝗔𝗦𝗦 𝗞𝗜𝗗 / @killedarlings

Too caught up in the various tools and gears littered about his work desk, it isn’t until a pair of arms wrapping around his shoulders that pulls him away from his tinkering.  Like a moth drawn to a flame — quite literally in this case — Eustass tilts back his head to gaze up at his distraction.  Hand raises to rest against the back of the other’s head, fingers carding through raven locks before giving a sharp tug.  “ I’m working, dipshit, ”  he scolds as a grin stretches wide across his face,  “ Don’t you have any manners? ” 

Normally,  being  so  close  to  the  infamous  Kid  pirates  would  be  suicide.  Especially  if  you  had  to  deal  with  their  captain,  but  Ace  being  made  of  fire  even  loved  to  play  with  it.  Eustass  was  just  like  him,  a  wildfire  of  scraps  and  oil  ready  to  devour  whatever  the  fate  brings  to  him.  A  true  god  of  war  incarnated  into  one  person,  king  of  violence  and  a  man  so  brutal  his  name  caused  people  to  shake  in  fear.  Still,  these  were  some  qualities  that  caught  Ace's  eye,  and  he  couldn't  say  that  testing  the  redhead's  patience  wasn't  one  of  his  favorite  activities.  He  was  curious,  though,  about  the  Kid  and  the  tools  he  was  able  to  make  himself.  

Watching  him  work  from  the  other  corner  of  the  cabin  was  enough  but  bothering  him  seemed  like  even  more  fun  for  the  Fire  Fist  and  so,  he  approached.  Strong  arms  hooking  over  the  man's  shoulders,  apparently  getting  in  the  way  of  what  he  was  assembling  from  that  pile  of  iron  scattered  across  the  table.  A  small  grin  lingering  over  the  freckled  features  until  Eustass  put  a  hand  on  the  back  of  his  neck,  pulling  him  down  suddenly,  surprising  the  fire  fist  for  a  mere  second.  ❝  You  ask  me  'bout  manners  when  you  yourself  called  me  a  dipshit,  you  bastard.  ❞  He  loved  to  see  the  red  line  of  crimson  lips  that  stretched  into  a  toothy  grin.  

Eustass  had  something  going  for  his  smile,  that  made  Ace  accept  the  biggest  bet  in  his  life.  Looking  down  at  the  table  again,  it  was  hard  for  him  to  tell  what  exactly  the  Kid  was  working  on.  ❝  What  is  this  pile  of  junk  ?  And  why  does  it  get  the  attention  and  not  me  ?  ❞  So  dramatic,  but  brushed  off  with  a  challenge  lingering  over  his  expression.  He  lowered  his  head,  only  to  steal  a  small  smooch  from  the  red  lips  as  a  consolation  prize  for  having  to  wait  so  long.

[ofakillerwithin]

Quinn was the sweet and innocent act, but under that sparkling smile of hers was where she felt unhinged, where she was about to burst into darkness. She may play dumb from time to time, she may sit cross legged on the couch and smile but each time eyes scanned at the bodies of pretend friends; of girls that were responsible for her brother; his death she was plotting their demise. What’s the saying? Keep your enemies close. Quinn knew how she was supposed to act; smile and be polite. Act as if Sam and Tara’s history with mask ghosts didn’t matter. 

The brunette was her own evil; she’d make the cut where it hurt. She had her plan in motion the second she signed her name on the lease of the off campus apartment; Richie was her brother. He was messed up in the head yeah; had too much passion. But he never deserved to take his last breath. Quinn held grudges. Obviously why she was seen stuck in a diner booth with a boy she barely knew. But Richie trusted this man; he trusted him enough to be straight with him. And if anyone shared the vendetta that loomed in Quinn’s ears it was him. And seeing as her wick ideas; her smirk hadn’t scared Liam off yet; she was starting to feel the trust; well as much trust as she was willing to give him. Truth was; for now he was needed; she couldn’t be in two places at once. She couldn’t bare the idea of becoming a suspect so soon; which it why the default of faking her own death was in play, of course there was only one other person she’d entrust in pretending to attack her; blood shed, the screams, the pierced knife had to touch her skin. The thought nearly excite her; but first an attack of her own; one she was greatly looking forward to. Those stupid film geeks were were testing her last patience. 

Flirting; it was a habit; in the end it would get the boy to fall to her feet. Liam was gullible, he was easy to manipulate it was written on his smitten features. Fingers danced along his skin; with a delicate touch; head tilted to the side; as she let her hand drop to wrap around his palm. A touch that left a slight tingling sensation; not that Quinn of keeping track of the feeling. Because come on? It was a game no strings at all. “ Behind the scenes, It’ll be easier if we have one step in and one out. They don’t know you, you’re kinda invisible. Think of it as a sneaky game of hide and seek. They wouldn’t see you coming.’ Echoed words as she inched her closer across the table as voice dropped into a whisper. 

“ When the time comes for my death I’ll need you to be knocking down the door, I need you to be able to hold the knife and let it close enough to brutally hurt me. Can you manage attempt to kill the mastermind..?” Serious; Quinn needed to know the boy was able to handle blood; able to handle seeing fake blood on her bed; on the room. Or was he just a wimp holding onto her coat tails. Quinn knew if push comes to shove he was bait; she’d pull the trigger without a second thought but did he hold that sam ammunition. She needed a man; a leader; someone to keep up with her. 

Richie had faith in Liam; which was the only reason why she was letting him in; she didn’t want to be disappointed.

@ofakillerwithin

[Anger issues. I scoffed at the thought. Was I perfect? No. Did I get myself into sticky situations, from time to time, sure. Did some of the people on the receiving end of these situations end up needing medical attention? Yeah, but in my defense, they brought it on themselves. A defense that my parents didn't seem to understand... Well, adopted parents, to clarify, since it turned out my whole life was a compilation of lies, secrets, and scandal. It wasn't until nearing the end of high school that I realized the people I had been deceived into believing were my parents, were actually my biological aunt and uncle. If learning all of that wasn't enough to give a guy "anger issues," then I didn't know what was. Of course my aunt and uncle didn't see it that way. A fact that they unknowingly made known to me one night when I overheard one of their conversations. Okay, okay, so I roughed a guy up at school, but given all the shit he had been putting me through, he got what he deserved. To my aunt and uncle though, they overlooked the fact that the asshole had been bullying me and giving me shit for weeks, so when he came at me one night at a game, and I fought back, suddenly I'm the bad guy for breaking his arm, nose, and a few of his ribs too. Exhaling loudly at the memory. It was that same night that I learned my "parents" were actually my aunt and uncle, after overhearing my aunt ask my uncle if he thought I was turning into my father... My father? What the hell were they talking about? Of course I busted into the living room immediately to confront them that night, which was met with more lies and cover up attempts from them. Why the hell wouldn't they tell me the truth about who I really am? I had a right to know where I really came from! Their refusal to tell me the truth, and to add insult to injury, to feed me more bullshit, just made me even angrier with them for keeping all of this from me, for so long. Over time, and following a slightly physical altercation with the man I had learned was actually my uncle, my aunt confessed that my "cousin" Sidney, who visited the mountains here a few times a year, was actually my birth mother. Apparently she had me young, my father was no longer in the picture... Supposedly after learning she was pregnant with me, he bolted and left her on her own, so in order to give me the best shot at life, she turned me over to my aunt and uncle to adopt me. I confronted Sidney, and just like my adopted parents, Sidney also lied to me about my father; claiming he was just a one night stand, and she never heard from him again. Considering all of the bullshit my family had fed me over the years, I knew better than to believe this story either, which prompted me to do some research of my own on my birth father. This being the point where I made my first trip to Woodsboro to get some answers. I met Richie soon after arriving in Woodsboro, which was refreshing since he was the one who told me the truth about my life. Turns out my father wasn't some dead beat who slept with my biological mother, then bolted when he found out she was pregnant, like my adopted parents fed me. He also wasn't a one night stand like my biological mother told me. No, he was actually her long-time boyfriend, who allegedly turned out to be a mass murderer in the town of Woodsboro. Of course he never had the chance to defend the accusations made against him, since Sidney killed him first; costing me any chance to ever know my father. I was angry, to say the least, which prompted me to leave my adopted parents' home, and live on my own for awhile. Not long after high school ended, I learned my friend Richie had been murdered by some bitch named, Sam. Figures, the one person in my life I could trust was taken from me too. I had nobody now. Nobody! This fury and thirst for revenge bringing me to New York, where Sam and her group had moved to for college. I didn't know what I'd do or say once I finally came face to face with that bitch, but I did know, I'd make her pay for murdering my only real friend, Richie]

[toraashi]

𝙪𝙣𝙗𝙡𝙚𝙢𝙞𝙨𝙝𝙚𝙙.

pairings/characters: scaramouche x gn!reader, il dottore, pantalone (mentioned), original characters (very briefly mentioned)

warnings: angst, descriptions of violence in a medical setting, descriptions of fear and anxiety, brief mentions of vomiting, blood, unhealthy relationships, minor character death, needles, torture (lightly described, heavily implied), unhealthy coping mechanisms, spoilers for scaramouche’s backstory, pretty dark, characters are very traumatized, dottore is extremely fucked up (obsessive, apathetic, erratic)

notes from tori: wrote this all tonight. i fully plan to write more, but i wanted to get this out there as a start! i’m not sure how good it is, or how in character dottore is. there isn’t much romance so far, but i will definitely get into it in later segments!

Over time, it became easy to cast a blind eye, to discard the guilt buried deep in your chest, to justify your compliance with something that felt like an excuse if you thought too hard about it. 

Sure, he tortured children, dragged them from their homes — their families — with the promise of safety only to betray their trust again and again in the vilest ways, but there wasn’t much you could do about that. If you defied him, it would be your life rather than theirs. It wasn’t exactly a choice to work under the second harbinger, but rather a position you’d been appointed to. It wasn’t your fault he took a disturbing liking to you, dubbing you as “wonderfully compliant” and “an excellent helper”, and by extension, it wasn’t your burden to bear that your actions aided in the brutality of the Doctor’s experiments.

Today it was a young girl, her hair a jubilant red, sharper than the sunset, lashes draping against her cheeks and constellated with tears as she cried silently. A glassy, empty haze settled over the dark browns in her irises, and you couldn’t help but avert your gaze, blinking aimlessly over the clipboard in your hands.

“Pay close attention, [name]. I need every aspect of this test closely documented.” the Doctor mused, flicking a long needle with his gloved finger. The sharp twang that echoed through the room made you flinch just slightly, blinking at the implication as he strode towards the exper— child. “It won’t be long before I have the answers I need.” 

Dipping your chin, you stared intently at the pale tile beneath your uniform boots, swallowing thickly when the child cried out, the sound dying the second it left her mouth. You looked up when the room fell silent, examining the way she lay loose against the table, the Doctor disposing of the needle in a bin nearby. He shimmied his fingers beneath the latex of his gloves, dropping them in before tsk-ing to himself quietly. “I will say, I rather enjoy when they put up a bit of a fight. Wouldn’t you agree?” You couldn’t. How could you? But you swallowed your opinions on the matter, remaining silent as the Doctor filed through his tools for this experiment. “Have nothing to say? You’re always so stiff. You act as though this is anything new.” 

“You’re right,” You started, leveling your voice, occupying a neutral headspace as you lifted your gaze, holding his amused gaze, the scarlet of his eyes piercing through your facade. “It’s nothing new.” Chuckling, he tilted his head, holding out his newly gloved palm in anticipation.

“The archon residue?” Your heart stalled, but you complied, reaching for the delicately balanced beaker of festering purple fluid and pressing it into his palms, avoiding his touch as best as you could. “Superb. We’ll begin this experiment by injecting the residue directly into the subject’s bloodstream. I wonder if the interruption to her blood flow will have a different effect than the brain. An even dispersal through the bloodstream will certainly garner results.” He loomed over the young girl, and you were fortunate to bear witness to his back rather than the crazed grin pulling his features. 

Exhaling evenly, you scratched his comments onto the paper, the medical lights above turning the sheet a glaring shade of white. 

“Trial number one…” 

You left your soul in the lab with the young girl. Jiang from Liyue, you’d learned, it made the walk back to your room even more harrowing. The experiment hadn’t been successful, they never were, but perhaps some piece of your heart was content with the fact that the subjects usually lived to see another day. Another hopeless day filled with pain and torture, but a day nonetheless. At least before you could say you didn’t directly take a life, but after giving it some thought, you weren’t sure if death was the worse option.

The halls of the Doctor’s base were nearly empty in the early hours of the morning — usually, you’d stay til the analog clock hanging above the door ticked past seven, but the results of the night had left the Doctor in a frenzy. The typically composed man had trashed the lab, glass beakers shattered into choppy waves against the tile. You’d stood in shock as papers rained around you, barely squeaking before he turned to you with a derganged look in his eye. The room had plummeted in temperature, and you’d run out without thinking, shaking in your uniform, tearing up against your will. Weakness was not welcome in the Fatui, but amid an angered panic by the third most powerful being in Snezhnaya, raw fear had sprung up, a feeling you’d stifled in your years under the second harbinger — in the Fatui.

The door to your room clicked closed, and it seemed to crack the cement wall around your tightly locked emotions. Mindlessly, you stumbled to the bathroom, gripping the sink until your knuckles turned white, fixing your reflection in the mirror with a hollow stare. Your eyes remained red and bloodshot from countless sleepless nights, a tremor contaminating your body until you were too weak to stand. With a shaky exhale, you collapsed to the cement floor with your fingers wrapped around your biceps, digging in until the skin bloomed with pain. 

How did this happen? You pondered, mind spinning with flashes of the girl’s ruptured skin, purple spotting across her entire body as if the archon residue had been rejected. How did you end up here, how could you contradict your morals so greatly?

Truthfully, the transfer from Pantolone’s jurisdiction had seemed beneficial at first glance. The Doctor, although famously deranged, was higher ranking: the benefits of working under him were rumored to be illustrious. It hadn’t been by choice, but the two harbingers worked closely together, and the Doctor needed more “assistants”. It was clear that the cons outweighed the pros, especially after you caught his eye. 

Should you run? Now that you were a bit older, you’d given up on the notion. There was nowhere for you to go, and with the secrets you knew, there was no way you wouldn’t be tracked and killed. Yet somehow, the concept crept up in the back of your mind after frightening nights like this, when the Doctor’s eyes pierced you so deeply it felt like he was picking at your insides, tearing apart your soul and inspecting each bit. 

You felt sick. 

There was nowhere to run. Perhaps it was better you lived with your sins anyway and let the guilt eat you alive.

It was a week before the Doctor called on you again, another Fatuus, a younger recruit named Sava, delivered the note to your room with an edge to his cadence when he addressed you. The Doctor’s elegant cursive curled around your anxiety, but you swallowed the tendrils, flashing Sava an empty smile (amicable, freshly dusted off) before waving him off. 

Mx. [name]

I’m regretful that our last parting left on such a sour note, but I require your assistance for a follow-up project. My recent trip to Inazuma bore some ripe fruit. I expect this puppet carries an abundance of secrets I will never find in the frail subjects of the past. Return to my lab as soon as this letter finds you.

Il Dottore

Puppet? 

Crumpling the paper in your hands, you blinked back an itch in your eyes, tossing it aside and reaching for your violet coat hanging beside the door.

It was hard not to be surprised. 

The Doctor hadn’t been lying. This test subject was truly unlike any other. 

He looked ethereal perched upon the examination table, his hair and eyes a beautiful violet, like that of the thunderstorms of Inazuma. He had a slim build and sharp collarbones, but his porcelain skin wrapped around lean muscle in his shoulders and arms, making the mystery surrounding his origins even more intriguing. In all his nude glory, he was blemish-free — flawless. The perfect subject for the Doctor. 

“Kunikuzushi will be joining our ranks with the understanding that I will be modifying his vessel.” 

Vessel. It took you a while to stop correcting the Doctor’s dehumanizing verbiage as you had as a recruit. Back when you had a spark of life behind your eyes. 

Kunikuzushi’s eyes dragged over your form, lax and uninterested. You couldn’t help but note the sharpness of his jawline, the piercing glitter in his eyes, and the contrast of his hair against the silver metal beneath him. 

“In your letter… you said something about a puppet. Were you referring to…” You trailed off, your voice soft. The man on the table scoffed under his breath, flicking his eyes back to the light above him. 

“Why yes, Kunikuzushi is indeed a puppet, despite his best efforts. A puppet created by the electro archon herself. It seems despite his years of living, the power vested in him has been sealed away, locked deep in his empty chest. I intend to release that power.” There was a seed of condescension in the Doctor’s voice you were keenly familiar with, and you figured that it wouldn’t be such a cut-and-dry experiment. This was a trove of answers, and now that such an ideal candidate for testing had presented himself, it was clear the Doctor would not let him go so easily. 

“Anything else you ‘intend to do’?” You probed, barely concealing the bitterness that had festered since the death of Jiang. “Surely you’re not just unsealing his power without any personal benefit.” That coaxed a laugh from the Doctor, who folded his arms across his chest, cocking his head at you.

“What a clever bird you are. We’ve gotten to know each other quite well during your time under me.” He practically cooed, but you kept your expression flat, casting your eyes on your notepad. “But yes, you are correct. I do have my plans for this puppet, but they will be revealed in time.” 

“Do you intend to get on with it? I’m growing tired of your crazed ramblings.” Kunikuzushi bit, and your heart seized in fear, bracing yourself for an aggravated reaction that never came. 

“You have an awfully sharp tongue on you,” The Doctor mused, stepping towards a silver cart, and plucking a scalpel from the top, the tip glimmering beneath the lights. “Now then. You already proved your durability when you trounced into that furnace without a care in the world, but I’m eager to test how far that will go.” 

Kunikuzushi’s face remained impassive at his ominous words, eyes fixed on the overhead lights as the Doctor pressed the blade to the immaculate skin of his subject. It divoted before the skin broke, a pinprick of luminescent violet beading below the cut. You watched, transfixed, as it dripped down his ribs, pooling by his side on the table.

‘Violet blood — or bodily fluid — seemingly containing a fluorescent glow,’ you noted, the pen shaking beneath your fingers. Kunikuzushi flinched gently at the sensation, and although the reaction twinged your heart painfully, you shut it out, fixing an empty, dissociated stare on the scene before you. 

The Doctor dragged the scalpel down from the puppet’s collarbone to just above his navel. Kunikuzushi’s gentle flinch morphed into a tight grimace, and you forced yourself to ignore the clench of his fists. 

“You’ll grow accustomed to the pain, I’m sure,” The Doctor breezed, a recognizable line that you weren’t sure was meant to soothe or disturb.  

“Pain means nothing. Do what you promised.” The tension between his syllables spoke otherwise.

Within a few moments, you watched in awe as Kunikuzushi’s skin stitched itself together, not even a thin white scar remaining. Unblemished. You made sure to make note of it. The Doctor seemed to take great pleasure in this finding as well, humming to himself in a way that sent shivers down your spine, like the feeling of small rocks beneath bare feet. 

“Delightful. It appears this body of yours won’t allow itself to be obstructed easily. I look forward to our time together, Kunikuzushi.” the Doctor doted, and you barely caught the fire in Kunikuzushi’s eyes flickering. Melancholically, you wondered how long it would take for it to fade. 

[angryschnauzer]

Bubbles

Summary: After a long hot day at work and a nightmare journey home, you find your husband has a very welcome and refreshing surprise for you in the form of a full size jacuzzi in your back garden.

Pairing: Captain Syverston x Female Reader Wife (no race or size mentioned)

Fandoms: Sand Castle (Movie), Henry Cavill.

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Established Relationship, Semi Public Sex, Fingering, Oral (Female Receiving), Unprotected Vaginal Sex, Creampie, Alcohol consumption.

I do not run a tag list, but please follow @angryschnauzerwrites​ and put that blog onto notifications for future stories. All past works can be found on there or on my AO3.

Bubbles

It had been a long day. Work had been hot and sweaty, customers were grouchy and some even tried to pull the 'speak to the manager' bullshit, even though you were the manager. Traffic had been a nightmare, your car deciding that the middle of a heatwave would be the perfect time for the air conditioning to stop working, simultaneously with a truck of maple syrup hitting the central concrete barrier and spilling its sticky load. 

Snerk. You snorted a laugh through the sweat. Sticky load… your husband would have made a whole bunch of dirty comments and jokes about being covered in sticky loads. You couldn't wait to get home to see him, it was the fact that he had now retired from the Army and would be happily waiting for you at home every night that made each day worthwhile. 

When Sy had finally retired you'd wept tears of joy, every day was a blessing. You'd discussed what you were both going to do with jobs, your contract was up in 3 months time, Sy was drawing a military pension and had saved a considerable nest egg. He'd also taken to industrial upcycling; making lamps and coffee tables out of engines and car parts, which had been massively popular. You had to admit when you saw him in his workshop with his acetylene torch and welding mask on, cutting enormous chunks of metal in half and creating brutal beauty from the elements you were immediately turned on by the raw virility of the sight.

When you eventually pulled onto the driveway, a quick glance towards his workshop told you he'd finished for the day, and as you let yourself into your house you called out to him;

"Sy?"

"Out here" came his slightly muffled reply, and you realised he was probably sitting on the patio out back, nursing a beer.

"I'm gonna run upstairs and take a shower, the aircon in my car has stopped working"

"Darlin, come out here first… i got something that'll refresh you"

Rolling your eyes you started to unbutton your blouse;

"Really Sy, i'm all sweaty and stinky…"

"Woman…" he growled;  "I said get out here…"

If any other man had called you 'woman' you'd knocked them out, but you knew Sy and for him it was a term of endearment. Quietly walking through the kitchen you reached the back door and patio;

"Sy…" you started to speak, but was cut short when you saw what he'd been referring to.

Sat on the corner of your patio, shielded from view by the trellis covered in Clematis blooms was an inflatable hot tub, bubbling away with your mountain of a man sat in it, arms spread out on each side as he held a beer and grinned at you;

"Told ya' i had something that'd cool you down"

Pressing your hand to the side of it you tested the water, smiling when you found it the perfect temperature;

"You bought a hot tub?"

"Rented. Wanted to see if we liked it before we made the investment. Why don't you get in and give it a go?"

"Sure, i'll just go get changed into my bathing costume"

Sy's glinted with mischief;

"Why? I ain't wearing one…"

You weren't sure;

"Its rented? Is it clean?"

"Spent all afternoon flushing the system and giving it a full wipe down, even though the rental company says they do it after each use… i know how you are with hygiene" he moved in the massive tub, moving to the side where you stood;

 "Now are ya gonna get naked or am i gonna have to rip those clothes off of ya?"

A minute later you were climbing in, work clothes hastily discarded in a pile on the patio, Sy holding your hand as he guided you into the bubbly water and you immediately let out a long low moan as the jets of water soothed and massaged your weary body;

"Oh Sy… this feels amazing…"

"C'mere…"

His massive hands cradled your torso, pulling you through the water until you were able to straddle his lap, his mouth meeting yours for a fierce kiss. As your tongues danced together he smoothed his hands over your back, massaging the day's stresses away to the point where let your head tilt back. Resting in his strong arms you let your back touch the water, smiling as the warm summer breeze danced over your breasts, before that skilled mouth was on your breasts, sucking on one nipple then the other, before he shifted and you were floating on the water, his mouth on your pussy. 

You weren’t the tiniest of girls, but you had utter trust in Sy that he could hold you up whilst eating you out. The man would easily heave around 10 foot iron beam railroad tracks to make into coffee tables, he’d pushed his truck home when the engine had died and that is no mean feat when it comes to a Ford F350. So with that knowledge safe in your mind you could thoroughly relax and let his tongue work magic on your clit as his beard tickled your folds. You came with a cry and he swallowed down your essence, before lowering you into the water and onto his lap.

As he lowered you you felt his hardness seek you out, sliding through your folds before you reached down and positioned him at your entrance, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as you let yourself be slowly impaled on his shaft. With the worries and stresses of the day easing away with each blissful bubble that popped on your skin you sought out his lips for another kiss as you started to ride him, the friction palatable as the noise of the motor covered the sighs and moans the two of you were making. Sy’s hands firmly gripped your ass, pulling you up and down on his gnarled shaft;

“Fuck… You look so fucking good riding me Darlin’. Definitely gonna get a permanent one of these installed… might get you a coupla’ white bikini’s as i’d love to see these titties through the soaked fabric, would be such a treat…” he grinned at you; “A titty treat…”

Grinning at him you squeezed your pelvic muscles, finally shutting him up so you could concentrate as you chased your orgasm;

“Sure Sy, i’ll get a white bikini… you want me to do the gardening in it too? Watching me on my hands and knees as i plant the petunia’s?”

“Woman, i’ll fucking take you from behind right on the lawn if you do that” he growled, thrusting his hips up sharply and finding your g-spot. One of his hands crept around your hip and between your bodies, seeking out your clit as he ran his calloused thumb over the sensitive nub. From the way he was bouncing you on his lap you could tell he was getting close, his teeth gritted as he tried to hold off from cumming, but with no luck. His hands gripped your hips to stop you from moving in the hope it’d delay his orgasm. You watched as his eyes rolled back in his head and his head fell back against the side of the spa, thrusting his hips up as he swore out a litany of curses as his body reached its peak before he’d have wanted to;

“Fuck fuck fuck… ah god… i’m sorry… fuck…”

Cradling the back of his head in your fingers you stroked at the short hair as you dipped your head down and pressed open mouthed kisses to his neck and shoulders. With his eyes still shut he pulled a hand out of the water and raked it down his face before looking up at you, his blue eyes sparkling;

“Ah fuck i’m sorry Darlin’... lemme see about getting you sorted…don’t get off just yet…”

He slid his hand back between your bodies, his thumb back on your clit. His other hand moved to your breasts, using his mouth on one nipple as he pinched the other between his thumb and forefinger. Writhing on his lap you could feel your orgasm rapidly approaching, Sy knowing exactly how to play your body like a guitar as you sang out your siren song that was a blessing to his ears. 

As your orgasm washed over you Sy held you in his arms, letting you ride out your pleasure as he relished the feel of your body surrounding him. Slumped in his arms you nuzzled at his neck, happily riding the waves of pleasure that echoed around your body. 

“You ok there Darlin’?” Sy purred, smoothing his massive palm over your back like a giant bear paw.

“Hmmn” you hummed, stopping mid response when you felt him shift and realised he was hard again; “Sy?”

He looked at you, a smirk on his face as he cocked an eyebrow;

“Darlin… you know when i blow my load real fast i’m ready for another round… your sweet little pussy massaged me back to full health” he pressed a kiss to your nose; “Now turn around and bend over, hand on the side… i’m gonna rail that juicy pussy from behind, see how many times i can make you cum before i shoot load number two”

Manhandling you in the water you let out a shriek as he thrust into you from behind, your walls still tight from your previous orgasm and he did exactly as promised, splitting you open from behind as his powerful thighs railed you harder than the transcontinental express. With his heavy ballsack slapping against your clit you were soon cumming again, Sy fucking you straight through it before he brought you to another orgasm soon after as he filled you with another sticky load.

As you both tried to recover from the energetic synchronised aquatics he pulled you flush with his chest as he sank down into the water, letting you lay back against his chest as your bodies were still joined. His hands skimmed over your torso beneath your breasts, cupping them tenderly;

“We’re getting one of these, right Darlin’?”

“Hmmm, absolutely”

You sat there for a good half hour, cradled in Sy’s arms as you told each other about your day, before your skin wrinkled and it was time to get out.

-

Later that evening Sy had driven the pair of you to the main hardware store in town that he’d rented the Spa from, and you’d ordered the parts and equipment for your very own one. As Sy had started getting deep into conversation with the sales guy who turned out had also recently retired from the Army you tugged on Sy’s sleeve;

“Honey, i’m gonna pop to Walmart next door”

“Sure thing Darlin, i’ll catch up with you in fifteen minutes”

Just as promised Sy found you fifteen minutes later as you browsed through the clothing section, and you spotted that he was swinging a small clothes hangar from his finger;

“What you got there?” you asked

Sy held it up and your eyes practically bulged out of your head; He had found the tiniest white bikini, that although was your size, was little more than three small triangles of fabric connected with the thinnest of strings;

“Exactly what we discussed… now i see ya got a bottle of tequila and some snacks, how about we head home and we can test this out?”

Grinned you nodded;

“Just one thing…”

“Yeah Darlin?”

“We need to grab a few more of those… there’s no way that is gonna survive one wear with you around”

Nodding in agreement Sy grinned, taking the basket from your hand as he wrapped his free arm around your shoulders;

“See, that’s why i married ya’, thinking ahead…”

He pressed a kiss to your hair as he led you back to the display of swimwear, grinning as you pulled out numerous other cheap pieces of swimwear, knowing full well Sy would destroy them as thoroughly as he destroys your pussy.

[mrs-march-ahs]

Taking Care of Kai Anderson in Prison

I think this is kind of a weird idea, but I wanted to write it anyway!

Warnings- smut, manipulation, Daddy kink, Kai Anderson. Words- 3k

Summary- Blue hair and bearded Kai is put in prison, and it’s your job to shave his head and beard because, being a violent prisoner, he isn’t trusted with a razor. He plays mind games with you and finds out exactly what he wants to know, and uses it to his advantage.

----

You gather your necessary items and walk down the prison corridor, scanning your badge to open every double door on the way. You walk towards the door of the room you need to be in, and you look through the one-way mirror to look at the prisoner inside. Kai Anderson, the leader of a murderous cult, just went through all the paperwork and confessions needed to be locked away for the rest of his life. The guards inside hold him very firmly and get ready to sit him down. It’s a very high security room, multiple guards outside looking in, a secured metal chair with hand restraints on either side, and a locked door. You scan your badge to enter and he immediately looks at you but says nothing. This has been your job for multiple months and after years of training, being around dangerous men and convicted criminals wasn’t new to you. But something about his relaxed face, and his body looking so comfortable despite all the restraints, made you nervous. Your job so far at the prison is to take care of the vulnerable, but this man didn’t look it. You walk over to the table and lay down everything you’re holding: an electric shaver, shaving cream, knife and a towel, to try and take away as much of his identity as possible. He needed taking care of, and being in the high security wing, he wasn’t trusted with a razor. The guards finish tying his hands to the cuffs on the arm rests of the seat and look at you.

“Want us to do his feet too?”, one of the guards says, motioning to the similar cuffs at the feet of the chair.

Kai looks over at you calmly and raises his eyebrow, asking the same question.

“No don’t bother”, you pick up the towel and walk over to him. “What will he do? Trip me up?”.

This silly comment earns a slight smile from Kai and he looks at the guards. They point to the one-way mirror and walk outside, to remind you that they will be watching in case you need them. They leave and shut the heavy metal door behind them. You wrap the towel around Kai’s neck and slide your hands on his shoulders, smoothing it out before picking up the shaver and running your fingers through his greasy blue hair.

“I need to shave your head, is that okay?”, unsure whether he knew what he came in here for. He slowly nods once and continues looking ahead of him at the mirror. You take a breath and run the shaver through his thick hair, watching it fall on his shoulders and on the floor. After a few strips, the side of his head is all shaved and you look at him in the mirror. He turns his head slightly to get a better view, then looks straight forward again, completely unmoved by what you’re doing. The stillness in his face and the silence in the room unsettles you. You continue shaving him, shuffling around him, trying to be careful and thorough but also wanting this to end as soon as possible. He notices the effect he has on you and speaks up.

“When my sister was little and she had to get her first haircut, she sat and sobbed, she was so scared”, he begins telling you, looking himself dead in the eye. You glance at him in the mirror and nod to show you’re listening.

“So, I took some scissors and chopped some of my own hair off, to show her it wouldn’t hurt”.

You smile at his anecdote and look at him in the mirror, and he looks back at you. His eyes pierce through you and his serious expression doesn’t change. The stare makes you turn back to his head and shave the last few strips of head he has left.

“That’s sweet”, you say softly. “You’re a good big brother”.

You finish shaving him and rub your hand over his now bald head. He nods at your comment and tilts his head to the sides and looks at his new cut, with his face still as serious as before and eyebrows furrowed slightly. You watch him inspect his new look and mix up the shaving cream.

“They say that a girl’s relationship with her older brother is more important than the one with her dad”, you walk over to him, stirring the shaving cream and nod in agreement. You make eye contact in the mirror and you add, “I’m close with my brother, I can tell him anything”. Though you knew that anything you told the prisoners could be used against you, you couldn’t help but feel so awkward that you wanted to say anything to keep the conversation going, and not bring back the deafening silence. You lean down at his side and begin putting the shaving cream on his face.

“And your dad?”, he asks quietly. “What’s your relationship with him like?”.

A million thoughts go through your mind, debating whether to tell him anything. Although he had no right to know, it didn’t seem like a big deal to tell him a few things. As you contemplate your next move, you try to focus on the task at hand and why you’re here in the first place, but you’re interrupted when Kai turns his face to look at you. His deep black eyes look into your soul. It seems like he already knew everything there is to know about you, even though he just met you. You inhale nervously and turn your focus back on putting cream on his face.

“It’s good”, you say quietly, which prompts a single amused exhale from the criminal. You resist the temptation to question him and instead walk over to get the knife from the table.

“Why are you lying to me?”, he asks, smiling. You take the knife and squat next to him. You can’t help but give him a puzzled look and feel even more uncomfortable at him smiling than looking serious. You shave one strip up his neck and his jaw and wipe it on the towel around his shoulders.

“I was honest with you, why aren’t you being honest with me?”, he asks quietly but firmly, looking at you in the mirror, inspecting your body language. “You have Daddy issues, don’t you?”, he states, confidence dripping off every word and the question solely rhetorical.

“I said it’s good”, you reply defensively, trying to not give him satisfaction in knowing anything about you, especially without you telling him directly.

“Don’t worry, I know what it’s like to have a shit father”.

You turn his face to look at you while you carefully run the knife along his neck, curving at his Adam’s apple. You focus on looking at his lips and chin while shaving him, but you can feel the burning stare right into your focused eyes. Looking down at you, letting you shave around his lips, he stays silent but smirks slightly. After you wipe the blade, his mouth opens once again, and his words catch you off guard.

“You just want a Daddy to protect you, hm?”

His filthy and overly confident words surprise you into looking at him. A combination of his sly smirk and his black eyes staring at you make your insides burn. You feel your cheeks flush and try to look away from him, but you simply can’t. This time you could tell the question wasn’t rhetorical, but you couldn’t bring yourself to answer.

“You want Daddy to take care of you?”.

You stand up off the floor, not breaking eye contact, and breathe in a wobbly breath. You attempt to open your mouth, but you know no words will come out, so instead you clench your jaw, and remember who’s in charge. You blink hard and look away from him, taking the towel off from his shoulders and wipe his face clean, and then put it aside. When you return to your spot by his side, he glances over at your watch.

“We still have 7 minutes until o’clock, when I assume you have to go. Let me show you a trick”.

You look him up and down intrigued, completely restrained by his wrists and wonder what he could do. He bends his wrist upwards as much as the restrains will let him and sticks out his pinky finger. You squat in front of him and link your pinky with his, earning a smile from him.

“We’re linked now. If you lie, I’ll know.”

You nod slowly a few times and quickly look over your shoulder at the mirror behind you, feeling security at the fact that guards are watching you through the one view mirror. When you look back at Kai, he smirks at you softly and leans his head down, not breaking eye contact.

“Do you feel safer to know that they’re watching us?”, he asks, making you inhale nervously. Although it’s your fault for making it obvious, the prisoner isn’t meant to be he’s being watched. You take a deep breath and decide to test him.

“It’s just a mirror, I was looking at yo-”

“Weren’t you listening?”, he snaps, clearly aggravated by your lie. He clenches his jaw and takes a deep breath before repeating himself, even more condescending this time. His voice was barely raised but your heart immediately starts pounding faster. You felt so naked and vulnerable in front of this man that you wondered if he could see your heart beating right through your chest.

“If you lie, I’ll know”.  

You furiously nod at him, not daring to take your eyes off him this time.

“What are you feeling right now?”.

You inhale sharply and take a big gulp before answering as honestly as you could.

“Terror”, you reply quietly. He exhales once in amusement, and continues to burn you with his stare, thinking of another thing to ask you. But before he has the chance to think of anything else, you decide to be brutally honest with him. Perhaps more than you should be.

“Can I be honest?”, you whisper at him, looking up at him with puppy eyes, trying to control your face to maintain as blank of an expression as you can. He nods once and waits patiently for you to continue. The second that question comes out of your mouth, your stomach fills with regret, knowing that you shouldn’t say anything more. Although every bone in your body knows that this is a bad idea, you can’t help but look at his strong veiny hands and melt inside.

“The worst part a-about you isn’t the terror”, you begin. His eyebrows come closer together in intrigue.

“It’s the arousal”. You can physically see his ego grow larger as he listens to your heart-felt confession and laughs breathily, letting your words loiter in the air for a few seconds before responding.

“I’m not sure I believe you”, he says, slightly shaking his head. “Prove it”. Your eyes widen and you blink slowly not sure what he means. The warmth coming from his strong hand spreads through your body and lingers on your thighs and your heat.

“I’m not sure what you mean”. He listens to you and sighs. After a few seconds, he explains.

“Girls think they’re always so sneaky, they think all guys think about is sex, when in reality, we both know girls think about it even more”. You gulp and try to take your eyes off his, but feel like they’re glued onto him.

“When you sit on a man’s lap, he can feel the warmth coming from between your legs. But if you’re aroused, you can feel you pulsating”. You quiver your lips at his dirty words and fail to understand the simple instruction he is giving you.

“What does that mean? I mean- what do you want me to do?”. He leans closer to you, and with every approaching inch your legs almost give up. You wobble slightly when his face comes so close to yours that you can feel his breath.

“Sit on Daddy’s lap, and let him feel you throb”. The second the pet name leaves his lips, butterflies fill your tummy. Your pussy gushes out wetness at his quiet, almost secretive, tone of voice, and demands to be touched more than ever before.

For the first time in minutes, but what felt like hours, you manage to take your gaze off his hypnotizing eyes and flicker down at his lips. He was so close, if you wanted to, you could kiss him. Because of your multiple seconds of delay, he cockily reiterates, whispering to you, his lips inching even closer to yours.

“Unless of course, you’re not aroused, and you’re lying, again”. He says, emphasising the again. He of course could tell that you were not lying, but enjoyed toying with you. Although he only met you minutes ago, he knew exactly what buttons to push.

Very slowly, you nod your head and looks at his pinky holding yours. Without breaking eye contact, he straightens out his pinky to let you go and sits up proudly, trying to scoot as far forward off the chair as possible, due to his wrist restraints.

You stand up, silently begging your knees not to give up, and gulp, before straddling one of his knees. He watches you closely as you hesitantly creep your hands to hold onto his shoulders, before pulling them away. He whispers discreet words of encouragement, “Hold onto Daddy”, making you lay your hands gently on his strong shoulders, and your pussy flutter at the name again. He hums in approval at the pulsating heart beat he feels on his knee from your throbbing heat. Without being told to, or rather, given permission to, you try to gently brush your pussy against him harder, hoping to get some release. The second Kai notices and feels your wetness through all the layers of fabric between you, he decides to help you, and suddenly bounce his leg. The unexpected movement against you makes you gasp slightly, and hold onto his broad shoulders. The sheer fact that such minimal touch earned such a strong reaction from you makes Kai smirk, and start bouncing his leg rhythmically. Every time you jump slightly at fall back against his knee, you end up griding across it, making friction against your clit. The pressing and kneading against your sensitive spot makes you bite your lip as all the arousal from your entire body goes straight between your legs. The shakiness in your knees and the tingle in your thighs runs towards your heat, making you practically drip on him. With a particularly hard bounce, you can’t help but gasp and hold onto his shoulders harder, closing your eyes in pleasure and looking down, too ashamed of how good he makes you feel. The overwhelming feeling forces a moan out of your lips, making Kai smirk. He watches you bite your lip and refuse to give him the satisfaction of knowing how good he’s making you feel, and feels threatened.

“Keep your eyes on Daddy”, he says, making you open your eyes instantly, and adding enough of a sensual touch to your pussy that you are almost brought over the edge. When you look at him, his black eyes lock you in and you have no trouble maintaining eye contact, despite slowly approaching your orgasm. Embarrassment flushes your cheek as Kai watches you, about to come undone from such a soft movement on his part, and having not masturbated in a while nor had sex, you were too stressed and focused on your job to take care of yourself. Maybe he was right, you needed a Daddy to do it for you. You grab onto his broad shoulders and completely let go, not grinding on him anymore, just letting him make you cum. Just as you hit your peak, Kai looks over at your hand on his shoulder, and without warning, he puts his bouncing to a halt and looks at you with a cheeky smirk.

“I think I have to go to my cell now”, he says with a cocky expression. You breathe heavily and look at him with pleading eyes, denied your finish. The realisation of what you just did hits you and you open your mouth slightly. As you slowly get off him, he continues looking at you clearly proud of himself. You stand in front of him for a few seconds before slowly walking to the door, and unlocking it, hoping your heart slows down before it jumps out of your throat. Or drops from between your legs. The smirk on Kai’s face widens when you look back at him, and then look at all the things on the table, deciding to leave it all there. You take a deep breath and smile at Kai, before putting your hand on the door handle, and whispering to him.

“Bye, Daddy”.

He smiles and nods at you and you step out of the door and shut it behind you, trying to regain control over your body after he made you feel like jelly. When you look over at the security guards standing in front of the one-way mirror, embarrassment burns you from the inside, and you flush completely red, having forgotten that you were watched the whole time. They look at you awkwardly and one of them puts his hand in his pocket, making your eyes glance at the bulge he’s trying to hide. The eye contact between the three of you silently agrees to never speak of this, and you walk away, trying to hide the smile covering your face.

You’re left to wonder how a man so restrained can have you completely wrapped around his finger. Later than day when you go back home, the second the front door shuts behind you, memories of Kai fling back to your mind, making you shiver. That night, when you lay in bed with your hand down your pants, all you can think about is your new Daddy.

[keilemlucent]

a night less cold

(r18+)

hawks | takami keigo x reader

ao3

word count: ~7.8k

beta’ed: @hawnks

happy birthday pro hero hawks! who’s ready for a night of dazzling and drinking?

you aren’t.

warnings: soft hawks, sick fic, hurt/comfort, a wittle angst, horny shit, fucking while sick, a wittle daddy kink 

...

a/n: happy birthday kei 🎉!!! happy to celebrate with a classic little slice of hurt/comfort and horniness <3 i’ve never done a true sick fic, so here’s a wittle bit of that as well!!! 

thank you for reading and enjoying this year, and being here!! i’m endlessly grateful and just :’^) full this day. enjoy loves 💕

|||||||||||

Keigo’s birthday was, historically, quite the spectacle. 

It was tradition that his once-budding, now-thriving agency would host a massive, grand party at a local venue, either an upscale club or dimly-lit, luxury hotel. Keigo would splurge his personal funds on the best music, food, and drinks that money could buy. There were popular DJs, the best and greasiest foods he could bring in, not to mention an open bar on every floor of the festivities.

It was quite a press event as well. Paparazzi and reporters would line up outside of the venue for a few quick words with heroes and socialites as they spanned the red carpet, colored like the vibrancy of his wings.

The event thereafter was debaucherous, obviously, according to Keigo, and quite a media circus as well. 

And this year, you were going as his partner and date, also obviously. 

The year prior, you and Keigo had still been relatively secretive about your relationship, but as you’d become quietly public in the recent months, Keigo was itching to show you off.

...

December 27th, you awoke in Keigo’s massive, soft bed to his soft humming and low coos, one of his more birdish qualities. The floating sound echoed from his chest to your ear that laid snug against it as he ran his fingers slowly around the shell of your ear.

As you cracked your eyes open, you immediately noted that you felt a bit... off. There was a sticky dryness in your throat that definitely hadn’t been there when you laid down the night before, at least not as strongly. 

You opted to ignore it, tugging Keigo closer by the small of his back and kissing his naked collarbones.

“Mornin’” You yawned, blinking sleep from your eyes. “What time is it?”

Keigo’s humming seized as his hand moved to run slowly up and down the back of your neck, “Early. Get some more rest.”

Shaking your head, you propped your head on your folded arms, regarding Keigo with a quiet reverence.

He was too pretty, it stunned you, most of the time. Even with a mop of slept-on blonde waves and the blushed lines and creases of the sheets on his cheeks, he still looked like some gracious god carved him from amber and marble. With the sheets pooling at his waist and a smirk growing on his lips, you couldn’t help smile back. 

“You’re staring,” Keigo grinned without a hint of ire. “It’s cute.”

“You’re cute,” Heat pooled in your chest. “Happy early birthday, tailfeathers.”

“Why, thank you,” He lit up, wings puffing behind him as he tugged you closer by the waist. “I’m very excited for you to come tonight, you know. I get to show off my cute little dove to the prying eyes of the world.”

“Showing me off? I’m flattered,” You mused, leaning into his heat. “I’m excited too.”

Keigo took a quick pause before tilting your chin up with a single finger, “Are you sure you’re okay to go tonight?” 

“Of course!” You beamed, nuzzling into his neck and ignoring any odd aches in your sleepy muscles. “Why wouldn’t I be? Getting cold feet, birdy?”

He rubbed up your spine, dropping a kiss onto your crown, “You were coughing a bit last night, dove.”

That was news to you. It explained your gummy vocal chords.

“Dry air,” It had to be, right? “Just gave me a dry throat.”

Keigo didn’t look fully convinced in the sheets, feathers ruffled and forehead furrowed.

It was easy to smooth it away with a quick pounce, straddling his hips and kissing him breathless. A bit of an early birthday treat, you supposed, as you nipped and sucked down Keigo’s neck, the little jerks of his hips and swallowed groans only spurred you lower, down to his naked collarbones, grinding down on the hardening bulge in his boxers briefs—

Until your throat began to sting a bit too much for comfort. 

You turned your head away, covering your mouth with the back of your hand and clearing your throat.

“Dry air?” Keigo asked with a lopsided grin, hands moving from their wide splay on your inner thighs to around your ribs, coaxing you back into the sheets.

“Feels like it.”

You tried to brush off the feeling, though it lingered as the two of you readied for the day. 

A shower was had, steam filling the bathroom as you both sleepily washed each other. It was early enough to indulge in some chaste (and not-so chaste) kisses between washing each other in the spray.

Water poured down from the ceiling-mounted shower head, slicking the two of you with heat. Your head laid against Keigo’s chest as he washed your back, gently swaying your bodies with the tips of his wings against the dewy walls of the shower.

Resting against his chest was a comfort, so early. The day was packed, and you both knew it. A bit of respite before the chaos was much needed and incredibly welcomed. 

“Are you sure you need to go to work?” Keigo whined, the pads of his fingers dipping into any tension in your lower back. “I’d love to keep my little chickadee by my side all day.”

You sighed, “You know I would, but I’ve got that report due today and I think my boss will kill me if I don’t get it in on time.”

Keigo huffed, giving your ass cheek a little pinch. It worked to his favor as you yelped, falling against him. You felt him smirk against your wet hair.

“You could always just quit--” Keigo reminded you, a long-standing offer once more put directly on the metaphorical table.

...

It had become quite obvious that Keigo really loved taking care of you. It helped him in unspeakable ways that he had trouble describing to himself, let alone you. As much as he was considered lazy and brash by his colleagues, regarded as too much and too blunt, often to the point of detriment, he was nothing if not goal-oriented.

He just wanted to rest.

Keigo would give the world to just laze around, preferably and hopefully with you, as much as he could while still being a hero. Trouble was, he wasn’t built for loafing about. His years at the Commission truly altered the way his mind and body ran, permanently. It wasn’t something he was ever very explicit about with you, or himself for that matter. All of the brutal training— disgustingly long days with late nights and early mornings, harsh tests or endurance and stamina, and the pushing and pushing of his speed had a great side effect.

He couldn’t rest most of the time.

His body wouldn’t, couldn’t, as with his mind. Whether he was at home lounging or taking a break at his agency, he was always on guard, mentally sprinting for the next moment, and often without cause. It kept him constantly poised, tense, and on edge.

But when you came into his life, that slowly began to change.

It didn’t happen too early in your relationship, the beginning was slow after all. Lots of dancing around each other's feelings, banter and flirting which both of you equally were equally enraptured by the other, but assumed it was all baseless.

It hardly was.

Slowly as you too became closer, sharing space and nights twisted in the sheets together, early morning cups of coffee and little experiences Keigo never imagined he’d have with another person, something started to shift. 

When you started to settle in his life, Keigo had something to take care of and god, did it calm him. His need to be constantly moving, doing something, was still there, but when you were settled in his arms, he had something to do— many things to do. 

He had the privilege of taking care of you.

You were far more than an outlet for his energy, that would be a complete reduction of your relationship and you, but it was one of the many things Keigo was so grateful to you for.

...

You sighed wistfully, “Maybe someday, love. For now, I gotta get out of here, I don’t want to be late. And neither should you.”

“Aw, babe,” Keigo pouted, grabbing your ass with two hands, massaging at the residual suds in time with your budding whines and gasps. “Not even time for a quickie?”

“Later,” You slapped his hands away playfully. “Have you ever heard of ‘birthday sex’, love? You’ll be getting plenty of it.”

Keigo gave you one of his signature golden grins, cupping your jaw for a few more desperate kisses before you both exited the shower.

He helped you towel off, starting from your ankles to your thighs, lips trailing with promises of the coming day. They stretched up to your ribs, little nips placed on the underside of your breasts before he dried them. You watched his wings ripple and shift with each brush of his lips, obviously getting off on the treatment as much as you were. 

Fuck, did you adore him with your whole heart.

As you both dressed for the day, Keigo checked in, ever attentive.

“I’ll pick you up at your place this evening around eight, be dressed and ready for me, okay baby? We’ll go right to the venue.”

You nodded, reminded of the gorgeous (and pricey) outfit he’d treated you too, fitted just right and coordinating perfectly with his own outfit. It was the perfect match, absolutely ideal to show yourselves as the pair you were. 

“Perfect, I’ll be ready, done up and waiting,” You glowed with the thought, ignoring the twinge of pain, deep in your muscles. 

Nothing a cup of coffee and a few extra stolen kisses wouldn’t fix. 

You dressed quickly, rushing off to the subway as Keigo took off from the wide balcony of his apartment to prepare for his own day of preparations for the celebration.

The party would begin that night and wear into his birthday, midnight sounding would mean a round of shots for anyone who could still stand and a jeering of cheers for the beloved number two hero.

Meanwhile, you and your still-dry throat scampered off to work. 

...

It proved to not just be a dry throat. 

As you sat down at your desk to begin your shift, a little twine of dread had wormed its way into your ribs as an odd exhaustion settled in your bones.

As your shift began, a myriad of symptoms arose.

The air felt cold, too cold for what you were used to at your office. The cardigan your kept handy hardly did anything to keep out the unnatural chill. You took note of it with a few quick glances at your coworkers, all looking perfectly temperate in blouses and dress shirts. 

The knowledge did nothing to soothe your chattering teeth.

Next came the headache, a pounding behind your eyes as snot began to ooze from your nose, a little pile of tissues filled your small trash bin. In an act of desperation, you chugged your water bottle, hoping it would quell some of the stabbing pain that was stuffing your skull. 

(It didn’t.)

After your vision went double looking at your monitors, you relented and laid your head on the flat of your desk.

The dry throat you’d had worsened next, little coughs turning into hacking, dry wheezes that couldn’t be ignored in the din of your workplace. You covered them the best you could, trying to put on your best face as you slowly and painfully completed your due report. 

All the same, someone must’ve spotted you and your poor state as you were sent home shortly after.

It wasn’t even noon yet.

You tried to rationalize on the subway ride home. 

Admitting to being sick meant that the entire night would be beyond fucked. It was supposed to be a perfect night to let loose and be open with your love, not one spent curled in bed and aching.

You had time, you resolved, you could fix this. 

Despite the fact that, even in your winter coat, you were fucking freezing, you convinced yourself that you weren’t sick.

You couldn’t be. 

The ache in your muscles was from sleep deprivation and fatigue, obviously. The winter air was the source of your burning throat and eyes. Getting sick wasn’t an option.

As you journeyed home, you made a vow to simply sleep off your ills. 

Nothing a little rest couldn’t fix.

You practically kicked the door to your apartment open, the sound hardly phasing you as your ears had begun to ring on and off on the ride home. You haphazardly dropped your purse to the floor of your small foyer, kicking off your shoes and padding to your kitchen.

You rapidly tried to think of some remedies while still hardly acknowledging any potential illness. 

Your first thought was tea, something herbal with lemon and honey tossed in to soothe your throat. The kettle was set and bubbling as you gathered your supplies for a cup that was sure to soothe you in full.

The kettle clicked off, and you poured the steaming water into your cute mug (a gift from Keigo) with shaking hands, ignoring the trembling and hyper-focusing on making sure the stream was in the correct place.

Was pouring water always this hard?

You ignored the thought.

Rather, you wandered off to the bedroom, praying the heat from the mug in your hands, scalding, would warm your shivering body.

(As if you weren’t already burning up.)

You hardly had sense left in you by the time you crawled into the sheets, ruffling them as you attempted to burrow in any heat they could provide. The chill of the unused bedding seeped into you as your teeth chattered. You couldn’t be bothered to even change from your work clothes, the thought of any nakedness sending a new sharp shiver through you.

You just needed a quick nap. 

As much as you wanted to sip away at your tea, your mind was going fuzzier by the minute. You sank into the mattress, steaming liquid (and the night’s coming events) forgotten as you fell into a fitful sleep.

...

Your dreams were sordid.

Vivid colors and loud sounds, hardly making any sense, but still, hardly fear into your cooking brain without reason. It blended into some horrid mix of sensations that had you tossing and turning in your sheets. 

...

Tap, tap, tap.

...

The sound made your ears burn. 

You groaned, shoving your pounding head into the pillow. 

...

Tap, tap, tap, tap.

...

It had to be a sound from the inside of your skull, it had to be with how much it thundered, the pounding in your head going harder with each sharp knock. 

...

Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap.

The sound was more insistent now, oscillating between your dream and reality. 

The pressure in your forehead wasn’t helping.

...

Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap— 

...

“What the fuck,” You audibly cursed, pushing yourself out of bed and awake as you could be. Holding yourself above the sheets, your swallowed back bile as your stomach rolled with new nausea. 

Your gaze drifted to a red glow in the room, your alarm clock— 

8:34 PM.

Oh.

Oh fuck.

Tap, tap, tap, tap— 

As fast as you could push your aching muscles to move, you slipped from the bed, whimpering at the chill of the cold floors and air. Shakily, you wrapped a throw blanket around your shoulders and padded to the living room.

Your stomach dropped as Keigo waited outside the balcony door.

His party was starting within the hour.

You hadn’t changed, showered, or done any sort of primping. Your outfit that was still hung on the back of your bedroom door, untouched and cold. 

Tears sprung to your eyes as you slowly made your way to the door, trying to avoid Keigo’s gaze.

Your shaking hands undid the latch. 

You swallowed back as many symptoms as you could, mind racing to figure how quickly you could get ready and if you even could. Makeup could be completed quickly, messily more than likely, but maybe Keigo could touch it up for you once you arrived. Your hair was a nightmare, but maybe you could tame it with a few extra minutes— 

As the door opened, you stepped to the side, wrapping the blanket tighter around you. Maybe, Keigo wasn’t upset with you, maybe you could get your shit together in fifteen minutes— 

Keigo’s hands went to his hips, wings tight to his back as a frown settled over his pretty plump lips. 

“... You’re not ready?” Keigo asked, stating the obvious as you rubbed a hand over your face.

“N-no,” You cursed at your voice strained and crackled. “Give me a few minutes, I fell asleep.”

You prayed your excuse would be enough. 

“... For how long, birdie? Are you okay?” Keigo hardly sounded upset, concern lacing his tone more than anything else.

You turned away from him, trudging back towards your bedroom. It was possible to get yourself ready quickly, it had to be you. The last thing you wanted to do was ruin his birthday with your tardiness (and sickness.) The fear spurred your steps to speed—

But Keigo was always faster.

He caught your wrist, tugging and spinning you back towards him. His hands, fingers wrapped in pretty gold rings, landed on your shoulders. His pretty ambers scanned you down, feathers ruffling as his frown deepened.

“How are you feeling?” Keigo asked, open-ended while his index and forefinger pressed to your pulse point, and his gaze flickered to the fat watch on his wrist.

“‘M fine, Kei’,” You murmured, weakly pushing his hand away. “Let me go get ready, I’ll just be a minute or two, promise.”

Keigo hadn’t looked angry since he’d stepped into your apartment, but his expression was souring in a new way. He pulled you close by the waist, lips finding your forehead.

You both stilled.

You knew you were fucked, with his lips so gentle and sweet against his forehead. He knew you were far worse off than you were letting on. 

“Dove,” He murmured, voice low and kind. “How do you feel?”

“S-stop,” You pushed at his chest weakly. “I’m okay, I don’t want to fuck up tonight.”

That made Keigo act, the air practically shifting as he scooped you up in his arms, throwing your arms around his neck as he carried you to your bedroom. Setting you onto the sheets, you wrapped your blanket around you tighter, stomach rolling and head burning with its ache and new tears pricking your eyes.

Keigo kneeled, settled between your knees, cupping your cheeks and continuing to look you over.

“Do you have a thermometer? I think you’ve got a fever,” Keigo asked, tapped your chin towards him when you tried to look away from him.

Ignoring his question (you had to), you bit your lip, “I don’t want to ruin your night, Keigo, ‘m sorry.”

Your words slurred as little tears began to drip down your burning cheeks. You rubbed at them with your blanket-covered fists.

Honestly? You felt pretty pathetic. The fever rotting your skull was definitely affecting your judgment, but you didn’t have the sense to care or rationalize. 

“Little bird,” Keigo softened, concern coloring his features. “You don’t need to worry about that. Can you tell me where your thermometer is? Maybe some pain medicine too?”

You shook your head, little tears turning fat as you lowered your head.

Keigo audibly winced, something you hardly caught with your sickness was swarming.

“Baby, don’t cry now, it’s alright,” Keigo assured you, pushing your hands away to take the task of wiping your tears away, the chill of the rings on his fingers almost burning. “Don’t worry about the party.”

“But, K-Keigo,” Your voice wobbled as your wrapped your hand around his wrist, over his watch. “You need to go, your party is soon.”

It was.

Your gazes both slide to the alarm clock nearby, the time steadily creeping towards the party’s official start time for the press. There were already scheduled interviews, you and Keigo were to be photographed and ogled at, him shining and dazzling in his signature, blunt way.

You were supposed to be on his arm—

Except, you were feverishly between his palms, crying steadily at the thought of missing the evening.

“Dovie, I need you to listen, please,” Keigo urged you, rubbing heat into your cheeks (even though they were already scalding). “You don’t need to worry about the party. That doesn’t matter. What does is that you’re obviously not feeling well—“

“I’m f-fine!” 

It was meant to be a strong declaration, something that would convince Keigo that your feverish state didn’t impede your ability to attend, or at least impede his.

“You’re burning up,” Keigo reminded you. 

Your tummy tossed and you shook your head.

He just kept talking, “I’m staying until I know you’re alright—”

That got you even more upset, shaking your head hard and fast even as your skull throbbed.

“No, n-no, no,” You pleaded. It was one thing for you to be unable to attend the highly-anticipated evening, it was entirely another for Keigo to be late to his own party, let alone fucking miss the event— “N-no, absolutely fucking not, ‘Kei. You can’t—”

You wept into his hands as hot tears trailed from the corners of your eyes to drip down your jaw.

...

Keigo’s heart hurt.

His hands shook, more-than-likely imperceptible to you as you sobbed in his hands, soon in his arms, as he sat on the edge of the bed to pull your burning body into his lap.

He tucked your face into the crook of his neck, playing with the hair at the back of your neck, unable to ignore how hot and clammy your skin remained, despite how you shivered and how your teeth clattered together.

You were sick and worked up, that much was for certain.

His wings flexed, the muscles bound-up and more tense than he would’ve liked. Worry laced his expression, his actions, as he tucked your sweaty and tear-matted hair behind your ear.

“It’s okay for you to miss tonight, there’ll be more times to do things like this together,” Keigo quietly assured you.

“But it’s your birthday—”

“That doesn’t matter to me more than you,” Keigo’s breath hitched with his own honest, full-chested admission. “It’s just a night, chickadee. I’m far more concerned with you.”

That unignorable itch and urge his chest flared, hot and bright as your fever and burning cheeks. He squeezed around your body, wishing he could absorb a bit of your hurt as his lips brushed over your temples.

“N-no,” You pulled away from him, shaking your head. “You c-cannot get sick. No.”

Keigo raised an eyebrow at your teary expression.

“I can do whatever I’d like,” He tilted his head sympathetically. “Which is why I’m staying—”

Your expression brightened in the same breath as you narrowed your gaze. Something about the heat swimming in your skull made things tilt and shift perspective. 

Why is he being so insistent?

“Are...” You swallowed around your words, hands folding in your lap. “Are you trying to get out of going to your own event?”

...

That might’ve been too much.

Even your feverish mind could tell you were being stubborn to a fault. The thought of Keigo taking care of you while you were obviously not doing well warmed you in an actually good way. 

And it seemed you were expressing that same brand of honesty that Keigo was so known for exercising.

You weren’t even sure how you deduced such a claim, but still, you’d ask, perhaps fanning the flame—

“... Looks like you caught me, little bird,” Keigo chuckled, something sad and low, chin tucking over the top of your head. 

You remained silent for a moment, head ringing.

“... You don’t want to go tonight?” You asked, softer this time. The rings on his fingers clicked as he drew absent-minded shapes over your clothed thighs.

“It’s complicated,” Keigo admitted. “I’d much rather spend the night with you, here.”

You were both silent for a while.

The last of your tears ebbed away as the thoughts of the evening of dancing and drinking faded. The outfit in its garment bag was forgotten as your hands buried into Keigo’s hair.

His hands played with the hem of your shirt, a reminder that you’d never changed after work, too sick to even crawl from your business casual dressings.

You broke the silence, voice crackling with a suppressed cough.

“The thermometers under the sink in the bathroom.”

...

Keigo returned after nestling you in your sheets. 

He had helped you from your work clothes, gently helping pull off and away your sweat-dampened blouse and bottoms. Gentle hands and nimble fingers slipped you into some sleep clothes, sweatpants and a long sleeve Keigo had left at yours some time ago. The slots that had been cut for his wings felt far too breezy, but the comfort of the garment being his far outweighed it. 

You wrapped yourself in it as you burrowed into the sheets.

Keigo sat on the edge of the bed, tapping the tip of the thermometer against your lips, “Open, angel.”

Your lips barely cracked open, just enough for the device to be slotted on the top of your tongue. A few of Keigo’s feathers trailed him, bringing a lukewarm rag that he sat on your forehead.

You shivered and let out a whine, giving him a frown as the thermometer beeped.

101.8 °F.

“That doesn’t sound good,” You muttered, burying yourself deeper. “‘M sorry again.”

“No need to apologize,” Keigo assured you once more. Despite the practiced steadiness of his tone, his wings were half-unfurled, poised and tensed. Nervousness radiated from him in a way that he prayed you were too out of it to pick up. “I just want to make sure you’re alright, dove, promise.”

You gave him a shallow nod as Keigo portioned out a dose of cold medicine into the provided cup, scrutinizing the line on the cheap plastic.

“Why did you plan such a big night if you’re trying to get out of it?” You asked, fisting the duvet. “You don’t need to, do you?”

“I don’t,” Keigo sighed, awed by how quickly he admits his inner workings to you (yet again.) “It is a fun night, a lot of fun. It’s just...”

He trailed off as he set down the sickly green bottle with a sigh.

Why did he plan such a night if part of him was goddamn ecstatic about the opportunity to bail on it?

“A lot. It’s just a lot.”

“... You don’t even like drinking much, do you?” You asked, rising up from under your many blankets despite your shivering. 

Once, Keigo did. His birthday was a time to get drunk on a bottle of too-expensive liquor on the floor of his too-expensive, too-empty penthouse while trying not to simmer in the loneliness that had become his norm.

“I used to,” Keigo said, a bit too wistful. “The party was just an excuse to not do it alone.”

It was far more fun to get shitfaced with a crowd of folks who saw him as beloved, even if they didn’t really see him. It was more entertaining to dance the night away, fill his room with pretty, tight cunts, one after the other than lay on the cold hardwood of his own floor, ignoring the clawing despondence that he couldn’t avoid as he got another year older—

Either way, alone or not, fucked up or fucked or not, he always felt rotten the next day.

“I don’t want you to be alone,” Your words were soft, maybe just for yourself, but Keigo caught them all the same. “I’m right here.”

“I know,” Keigo placed the little cup to your dry lips. “That’s why I don’t want to go.”

...

You swallowed down the medicine, grimacing at the taste and gagging. Your rolling stomach didn’t appreciate the flavor, bile rising in the back of your throat.

“Easy now,” Keigo ran a hand through your hair as another cup was placed to your lips. “Sip.”

You wrapped your hands over Keigo’s as you all-but chugged the water, even if your stuffy nose made it taste dusty and odd.

“Good girl,” Keigo beamed, pressing a kiss to your shoulders, urging you back into the sheets. “Can you scoot for me?”

You nodded, purring with the praise, and shifted only enough for Keigo to join you in the covers, perfectly windswept, styled hair mussed up against the pillows, outfit rumpled without a care otherwise. 

You both wrapped up the other in an instant.

Keigo was warm, as were you, even if you couldn’t feel it. Your body ached with each movement, your limbs growing heavy with the syrupy medicine.

“You should go,” You told him softly, speaking quickly before Keigo could disagree. “Just for a little bit. Fashionably late, and all. See some folks.”

“... I don’t want to leave you like this,” He squeezed you, burying his face in your hair. 

“I’m just sick, Keigo,” You frowned, little fingers pulling at his jaw so you could meet his gaze. “I’m not dying.”

Sure, you felt like absolute shit at that moment, but the tug of slumber was beginning to outweigh your symptoms. 

“Are you sure?” 

You didn’t miss the tremble in Keigo’s tone.

“Of course,” You rubbed your fingers over his stubbly chin and soft cheeks. “I’ll be right here, always.”

And both of you shared a quiet moment of understanding.

...

Keigo stayed until you fell asleep, though it didn’t take long at all. Your head laid on his chest, hot puffs of breath pulling from your parted lips as Keigo took to running his hands wherever he could reach. 

Your body was hot, hot enough to worry him, but he placated his protective urges (as much as he could) with the sound logic that you, indeed, did just have a fever, albeit a bad one.

Keigo left you with an array of feathers, settled around and up against your body, Your cheek was tucked into one of the broader ones, filaments remaining silken and soft. It would be a bit overwhelming, the sensation of you and your body with the crowds, paparazzi and sounds, but he’d manage.

He arrived fashionably late with a golden smile, and left unexpectedly early before the hour even struck midnight.

The turning of his birthday would be shared elsewhere. 

...

You were right there, just as you promised when he returned.

The rustling of fabric and feathers is what roused you, half-way and through your medicine-induced haze. 

There was the quiet sound of your dresser opening and shutting as your eyes recognized. 

Your vision was blurred, but you still outstretched your palm to Keigo. He was still changing, pretty outfit gone, rings and watch discarded onto the top of your dresser. He stood nearly naked, just in boxer briefs and his entirely unbuttoned dress shirt. 

“Pretty bird,” Your voice slurred as Keigo graced you with a lazy smile. “Get over here.”

“On my way, chickadee,” The smile in Keigo’s voice glowed, even in the dark of your room. “Thank you.”

“Love you,” You responded, hand falling onto the duvet, not nearly as uncomfortably cold as before. “So much.”

Keigo’s breath hitched with the common affection.

Sleepily, you wondered, “Has anyone told you that on your birthday?”

You didn’t realize you’d said it aloud.

Keigo was by your side a moment later, feathers returning to his full wings, body warm and comfortable and purely home. You snuggled into him, pulling him close with a hand around his waist, pushing weakly at the tension bound up in the fat he carried above his waist.

His wings rustled, settling half-extended over your mattress and undoubtedly drooping to the floor. Your legs tucked around his, his hands settling over your spine to count each of the vertebrae like it was the beats of a song only you too sang.

Keigo tried his best to ignore his own stray tears. It was easier to cry around you, either because he was so damn comfortable around you, or that you were a bit of a crybaby yourself. 

Either way, Keigo was grateful for it. 

You, in your feverish state, only felt Keigo in all of his rawness. The swell and crest of his breath, the tempo of his heart, the gentle hands and precious pressure he doled out against the tension you bore in your body, all were familiar but blessed no matter how many times you were graced by him.

Keigo wasn’t an angel, he was better than one, wings aside.

You cracked your sleep eyes open, palms around his jaw, cupping and caressing as was your rite.

Your gaze drifted just beyond Keigo to the glow of your alarm clock.

12:03 AM.

“Happy birthday, love.”

Keigo didn’t reply, only giving an audible swallow and a shaky swallow. You can feel his tears soak your fingertips. 

You kissed them away, licking at the salt with the tip of your tongue, relishing Keigo’s little giggles, all for you and him to share, just the two of you.

“I adore you, you know,” you admitted, though he already knew so well. “I love you, Keigo. Thank you.”

Maybe a few of your own tears fell as you pressed your cheek to his, kissing up and down his jaw, nosing at the beat of his heart under his jaw. 

Keigo layered love onto you, little repetitions, desperately returned, and shared affection. ‘I love you’s and sentiments too soft and important slipped between the two of you as sleep pulled you both under.

...

The morning came with the graces of a gentle, orange sun.

It stretched over the sheets, slipping in, uninvited but not unwanted, from around the thin curtains you had hung.

Once more, you awoke to Keigo’s little coos and hums, though he was far less awake. 

Before even opening your eyes, your lips found his own. Both yours and his were parched from sleep, sticky breath hardly pleasant, but neither of you minded.

You swallowed a surprised chirp from him, rolling your hips into his own.

Keigo stilled you with a gentle hand on the back of your thighs, gripping the fat and flesh with enough force to have you purring. 

“Mornin’, chickadee,” Keigo broke the kiss only to murmur against your lips. 

“Hi,” You pulled away to smooth your thumbs over his cheeks, still sticky from the night before. “I love you.”

And Keigo lit, matching with the rays that filled your room, “I love you too.”

You beamed back, not bright in that same way, but luminous all the same.

Keigo took you in breathlessly, the simpleness of you leaching all air from his lungs and unwanted thoughts from his mind. 

If Keigo was like the sun, all gold in the morning and red in dusk, then you were every other star that wreathed the moon. You didn’t see it, not the same way he did, but then again, only Keigo had the privilege of seeing the way how you exchanged pieces of yourselves with each other without fear.

The tenderness of that morning was far, far better than anything he’d had in years past. He missed nothing about the pounding of his skull from the liquor the night prior, the insistent need to piss out his sins and the clingings of at least a dozen perfumes from the night before.

Even that hot and fast burning ecstasy couldn’t compare to sharing the morning sun with you.

“How do you feel?” You asked, breaking Keigo from his quiet worship.

Keigo snorted, pressing his lips to your forehead, gauging the temperature, “I should be asking you that.”

“Sweaty,” You tugged on the long sleeve and bumped one of your now-naked thighs into his own. “I think my fever broke in my sleep.”

Thank God.

Keigo reached around you, rustling around for the thermometer, and placing it under your tongue.

99.3 °F.

“Looks like it,” Keigo let out a sigh of relief. “Do you feel better?”

“Mostly,” You nosed your way back under his chin for all the extra affections you could give. “Just tired.”

“We’ll have an easy day then,” Keigo replied, feathers rippling at the idea of a slow, free day in bed with you. 

“But it’s your birthday— “

Keigo cut you off with a finger to your lips and a sly smile, “And I would like nothing more than to spend it, like this, with you.”

You inspected his face for any signs of dishonesty. 

There wasn’t even one.

“Okay, then let me rephrase,” You huffed a little. “But what about birthday sex? I really was prepared to have you cum down my throat at least four times today.”

Keigo snorted again, flitting laughter bursting from his lips as he pulled you to his chest and smothered you with kisses.

“There’s absolutely nothing stopping us from fucking until the sun goes down, other than how you feel and what you’re up for,” Keigo reminded you, his hand drifting up to your ass and squeezing. The way you jolted into him with a little whine had Keigo already wanting. “I can make it nice and easy for you, little bird.”

You shuddered, hands drifting to the roots of his wings and teasing the small, silken feathers, “Why don’t you show me?”

Keigo needed no other command.

...

You knew Keigo could be so greedy with his touches. Some nights he’d take and take and take. He’d pull from you anything and everything you’d offer, leaving you gasping and stuffed-full with a happily broken mind. He loved stealing your breath with the pounding of his hips, stealing the sounds from your lips as they came, though you gave them freely.

That day didn’t feel like that.

“I want to be so deep in you, dovey,” Keigo purred, cooing from the back of his throat. His hand slipped between your clammy thighs. “Feel you all over.”

The pad of his index fingers ran over your clothed clit, teasing and wanting in the same moment.

“Y-you can have me any way you want,” Your voice had already gone gooey and high, pitching up and sweetened. “Wanna make you feel good.”

You rubbed at the apex of his wings, where the little feathers bled from the roots of his wings to the base bones. A low groan rumbled from his chest, one of your favorite sounds. Nothing got Keigo weaker than little pets and play to his wings. They were so sensitive from years of touch solely by his own hand. They were coveted, a part of the holy structure of his body that he hardly allowed anyone else to fully take in unless necessary, before you anyways. 

That was your privilege.

Keigo slipped your panties off, the cotton fabric discarded and forgotten. A moment later, your shirt followed, leaving you bear to him.

There was still the impulse to cover yourself. Keigo loved looking at you, his pupils wide as they traced over your curves night after night like it was the first time he’d seen your skin and curves. 

That morning, the feeling fell away quickly as you urged his own scraps of clothing off.

He was already hard, leaking from the thought and sight of you. You were hardly different, Keigo’s fingers teasing the lips of your sex and pulling away wet.

Without shame, he popped the finger into his mouth, sucking away your slick like it was nectar.

You tipped onto your back, pulling Keigo with you. One hand remained buried and busy with his wing while the other slipped between your bodies, wrapping around his pretty cock and stroking slow.

He gasped into your mouth as you thumbed over the head.

Smiling against his lips, you nipped and sucked his bottom lip into your mouth, enjoying your little moment of control.

Keigo stole it back quickly.

Carefully, he grabbed the back of your thighs, pushed your legs up and out. Before you had a chance to so much as whimper, Keigo slid a finger into your cunt, then two, curling against the bundle of nerves.

Your back arched, your grip on him tightened as you gasped his name like the last note of a hymn. 

And Keigo wanted more.

“Tell me if it hurts,” Keigo panted, breathless and strained as he adjusted your legs over his shoulders, bearing his weight on his arms that went to brace around your head.

“C-can I have a pillow?” 

“For your hips?”

“Uh-huh.”

Keigo gave you a flurry of kisses, a wordless ‘of course, I want to make you feel so good’. There was an art to wordless communication and Keigo was a goddamn masterful craftsman.

The pillow slipped was your lower back, tilting your hips up and cushioning them from whatever treatment Keigo laid upon them.

With a shaking hand, he removed yours, guiding it to his wings as he lined up his cock with your cunt and fucked into you in a single fluid motion.

The burn of it was enough to have you gasping, scrambling to hold onto his shoulders and tuck your face into his neck with a whine. Keigo soothed you without question, barely rolling his hips are you adjusted.

He settled over you close, chest brushing yours, the cold of the bars through his nipples always a shock, even when you expected it.

“M-more,” You whined, needy and sweltering with a tug of his wings. “Please.”

Keigo hummed, palming one of your breasts with a twist of your nipple, “But, you beg so pretty, little bird. What if I want to hear more? It is my birthday.”

It was, and Keigo wanted to be so close it hurt. He hardly had the patience for teasing, but when your voice got so syrupy and desperate, he couldn’t help but tug at your soon-to-be-fucked mind. 

Truthfully, what Keigo wanted most for his birthday fucking was to stuff you so good and full that your tummy bulged under the flat of his palm. He wanted his cock to brush and bruise the deepest parts of you until all you knew was the chant of his name as you came so well and hard that you fucking blacked out.

But, he had to be tender. 

Had to be.

“P-please!” You tilted your hips for more of him as if Keigo wasn’t already filling you up fully and perfectly. “Anything you w-want, please.”

“You mean it, little bird?”

“Uh-huh.”

And sweetly, perfectly, Keigo fucked you into the mattress.

There was some reverie in it, there had to be with the way you so gently carded through the hyper-sensitive, rounded feathers that stretched onto his back. It juxtaposed the way he railed and ruined your cunt, slick sticking your inner thighs and his pelvis with each thrust. 

Each motion went so deep, you swore you could feel it in your gut. Maybe, that was why Keigo was fucking you so close, with your bodies pressed together and sharing air and heat so closely, it was hard to tell where another experience ended and another began.

You didn’t expect the first time you came, your eyes stretching wide as your crest drowned you well and sweetly. You buried your face into Keigo’s now marked and bitten neck and let out a choked sob as your cunt fluttered around him.

Keigo took a moment to slow, as he only peaked with you, but he wasn’t ready to be done with you yet. His hips barely moved in you, just nudging deeper, and deeper— 

“More,” Greedy, such a greedy little whore. “M-more, please.”

Keigo chuckled, pushing some of his sweaty waves back, “Think you can handle it, little bird?”

Your face, hot with pleasure and eyes wide with want, went determined as you tugged on the wings, nails raking through the unpreened feathers.

“Fuck me like you mean it, K-Keigo— Daddy.”

Keigo stilled, raising an eyebrow, ignoring the flaring of hot, yellow fire in his chest, “You really want to push that button so early?”

“Were you planning to fuck me like a pussy the rest of the morning?” 

Where did your fire come from? You were sure, maybe it was the leavings of your fever, but you didn’t care. You wore your smitten grin as Keigo’s gaze darkened, pupils so fat and focused, the citrine of his eyes was swallowed whole.

Keigo slapped a hand over your mouth, squeezing around your jaw, and fucking into you once, sharper and deeper than he had before. Your vision nearly went white, body fucked over-sensitive once but still begging for more.

Greedy, greedy, greedy.

Gluttons, the both of you.

As per your request and Keigo’s deepest wants, Keigo fucked you so earnestly, deeply, and without holding back that part of you feared the bed would break.

Each cant of his hips had your tugging at his feathers, the twitch of his cock inside more than enough of a sign at how fucking wild your touch was making him. That wasn’t to mention the filth that rolled from his lips, pants and whines and groans and words—

“Daddy’s little bird just gives so well, d-don’t you?” Keigo’s probably bruising your cervix, but you didn’t have the mind to care. “Letting me t-take whatever I want?”

You nodded behind his palm, half shrieking as his hand slipped between your bodies, rubbing your swollen clit, hot pressure building up in your gut by his hand, just as you liked.

As much as he took, he gave.

It only took a few more moments for you to sob behind his palm, clutching as your shoulders as you came so hot and bright and well, your vision sparkled and went black.

With the way your cunt clamped down around Keigo’s cock, he came just behind, filling you so, so good. His hand flew to your tummy, eyes rolling back in his head as he felt himself fill you with fat cock and thick cum.

You gasped as you came down, panting and clutching at Keigo as he did the same. You hushed each other with des[erate kisses, quiet praises too precious and sacred to be written, but that could certainly be felt in the air that remained conjunct between the pair of you.

Keigo rose from your body, thighs shaking in time with your own as he lowered your legs on to the sheets.

You were both messes, covered in sweat and spit and sweetness, but neither of you cared.

“You okay, little bird?” He asked, soft in the aftermath, kissing the damp apples of your cheeks. 

“Uh-huh,” You gave him the best type of fucked out smile. “Can’t wait for more, it is your birthday.”

“And...” Keigo found himself speaking without thinking. “You’re here for it? All of it?”

He knew that, did he really need the reassurance—?

 “Every bit of it, lovebird,” You tacked on the nickname, rising on your undoubtedly sore hips. “Every moment.”

And he couldn’t be happier about it. 

 ||||||||||||||||||

thank you for reading!!!! 💕

ko-fi

[ladyartemesia]

The Terms

◐ PART III of THE ALPHA ◐

◐ Part I ◐ Part II ◐ Series Masterlist ◐

Pairing: Alpha Werewolf Jimin x Omega Reader

Rating: Mature (for this installment)

Warnings: ABO sexual dynamics including discussion of scenting, marking, mating, and claiming. Violence and discussion of violence relating to ritual combat. Jin’s pheromones need their own warning. Yoonji and Yunli are not the same person.

Word Count: 2300

Author’s Note: As promised, this chapter is twice as long as the previous two and a lot of what people have been speculating about in the asks is discussed in this chapter... along with a few surprises...

“Luna rex provocatione means ‘the moon king’s challenge.’ It is never invoked lightly as its consequences are grave indeed... If an alpha believes that he is the true Alpha and the goddess has placed another in his path as a test of worthiness and dedication to the pack, then he will acknowledge his acceptance of this test by declaring luna rex provocatione. Once the challenge has been set forth only the death of the Luna’s first mate or the total surrender of the challenger can satisfy it...”

Text of the traditional speech given by a chief elder to begin a luna rex provocatione ritual [7th century]

“I know you won’t understand, but this isn’t personal-”

Jimin offered his rival an overtly feigned smile.

“You plan to kill me and claim my mate. Which part of that could I possibly take personally?”

Tae snorted somewhere in the background and Yoongi elbowed him hard.

Tradition dictated that both alphas meet with their second-in-commands in the chief elder’s chambers to discuss the terms of combat.

Namjoon brought Min Yoongi and Jimin had somehow ended up with Taehyung.

He didn’t remember actually agreeing to make Tae his second...

It just sort of happened somewhere between calming his hysterical mother and quickly reading up on archaic pack law.

The chief elder coughed uncomfortably. Goddess, this ascension was supposed to be easy. He never in a million moons thought he’d be in this position.

The last chief elder who oversaw a luna rex provocatione ritual had immortalized it in his journal as “the single most horrific moment of my life,” describing in detail the Luna howling in torment at the loss of her mate and the victor collapsing over the corpse of his foe in misery and guilt.

As in the past, the outcome of this conflict was already decided by fate...

Pain and regret weighed heavily on the older man as he considered the younger of the two alphas.

Park Jimin was going to die violently and there was nothing he could do about it.

“Because Kim Namjoon issued the challenge, his opponent will decide combat form. Your choices are human form, half-shifted, and wolf-form. After your choice is declared, Namjoon may add a minor alteration if he so desires. Park Jimin, please declare form.”

“Human,” he answered softly - and every single occupant of the room recoiled in response.

It was bad enough to witness a fight in wolf form or half-shifted... but to engage in ritual combat as a human-

It would be brutal - even psychologically disturbing - without the benefit of a wolf’s hide to mask the savagery.

Namjoon’s eyes widened in shock, but he recovered quickly.

“I request teeth and claws.”

Not quite a half-shift. Teeth and claws allowed for attacks using lengthened canines and claws.

It could make a kill slightly more... humane.

Jimin nodded and the elder pressed his seal over the first of the terms.

The were no windows in the small, stuffy chamber and between the heavy ceremonial garb and the nearly twenty braided praesidium bracelets wrapped around his wrists, Jimin felt as if the blood in his veins was literally coming to a boil.

Though he dared not remove them to relieve his discomfort.

Each bracelet represented a prayer to the goddess. They were given as protection to a loved one before a great trial.

His mother had not stopped making them since the ascension. She’d torn apart her most expensive dress and spent hours twisting the fabric strips into intricate traditional braids while she prayed...

Jimin’s fingers sought them out for comfort as the miserable parade of ritual legalities marched past the two hour mark.

Many agreements (like Jimin’s insistence that his mother not be allowed to attend the fight and Namjoon’s pledge to financially support the Park family in the event of their alpha’s death) were settled quickly, however the sheer number of details to be solidified was overwhelming.

“I think it best if we adjourn for a short recess,” the chief elder sighed wearily and Taehyung nearly ran Yoongi over in his desperate scramble to finally use a restroom.

Jimin turned to leave, but a hand on his elbow drew him back.

“I want you to know, I did this for you as much as for the rest of them.”

His tone was low and carefully respectful, but Jimin’s wolf snapped irritably at the elder alpha’s presumption.

“What an... interesting statement to make.”

He pointedly removed Namjoon’s hand from his arm with calculated nonchalance.

“No one expected you to be chosen... Jungkook, or even Hoseok, would have been an understandable alternative, but you’ve never taken being an alpha seriously-”

“According to you,” Jimin fired back, finally allowing his voice to harden in cold fury. “I have always known and valued what I am. I simply never felt called to your version of it.”

Namjoon tilted his head in acknowledgement.

Park Jimin might not look particularly dangerous ... but for the first time, the Kim alpha considered that he may have underestimated his opponent.

“Either way - the pack does not trust you. They are not confident in your ability to lead them,”his hands fisted reflexively at his side as he considered the weight of his next words, “...but if you beat me, they will never question your strength.”

Jimin’s hands tightened into fists.

Namjoon might be an overconfident windbag, but he had a point.

He faced an uphill battle to subdue a restless pack as well as increased threats from rival clans looking to expand their own power and territory.

The challenge was a chance to establish his claim.

Or die trying.

“You think rather highly of yourself,” he chuckled and Namjoon bristled indignantly.

“I have devoted my life to the pack. I have never questioned my duty to them.” He leaned forward a bit, holding the younger alpha’s gaze with purpose. “That is why I will not hesitate to kill you.”

“And what of the Luna?” Jimin wondered in mock contemplation. “Do you think she will take kindly to the loss of her mate if you win?”

Namjoon’s jaw clenched. The Luna was clearly a sore subject.

“If I win, then you were never really her mate were you? Your entire existence boils down to nothing more than a sacred test in my destined path.”

Silence stretched heavily as the two alphas regarded one another with open hostility.

“I will fight you till the last shred of life is ripped from my body,” Jimin snarled.

A shiver ran down Namjoon’s spine, though he was far from intimidated.

“At least now you sound like an alpha,” he scoffed.

Then he was gone.

Jimin waited till the sound of the older man’s footsteps faded before slamming his fist into the table.

He needed air and to be alone with his thoughts for moment before he could civilly resume the endless negotiations.

Unfortunately, the only place offering both of those things was a cluttered balcony near the back of the building.

The room traditionally designated for luna rex provocatione proceedings had been used as a storage closet for at least the last hundred years (and therefore needed to be hastily cleared after Namjoon’s inconvenient declaration). Consequently, the room’s former contents (piles of toys from this season’s charity drive) were now strewn haphazardly across the narrow outdoor space like debris from a brightly colored bomb.

Jimin carefully navigated his way to the balcony’s wooden rail and lifted his eyes to the moon.

“Please,” he begged softly “... send me a sign.”

“If he did not hate me before, he surely does now,” you sighed, staring morosely at the lights flickering in the old chamber building. Somewhere within the bowels of that archaic fire hazard, your mate of less than twenty-four hours was negotiating a nightmare.

“This is not your fault, Luna-“

“Isn’t it?” you snapped. “That’s who I am. I’m the Luna, if I could just accept another mate without someone getting their throat ripped out, then none of this would be necessary.”

Jin sqeezed your hand sympathetically.

The council placed you under guard in a small cottage across from the elder’s chambers in order to prevent the alphas from having any contact with you. Since then you kept a constant vigil from its rickety porch, hoping to catch a glimpse of the young man whose life you had ruined.

“Would you do it then - if you could?... Would you accept another mate to spare the Park alpha?”

Bitter tears burned at the corner of your eyes.

“Yes,” you whispered, “...I think I’d do almost anything to save him.”

Comfortable silence settled between you for several minutes - until a small flutter of movement drew your gaze to the chamber balcony.

Then he walked out.

And just the sight of him was enough to slam your heart up into your throat.

Jimin...

Jin quickly turned to your guard and unleashed a wave of pheromones that would have knocked out a grizzly bear. The guard whined and abandoned her post to follow him inside without a second thought, leaving you conveniently alone.

Male omegas are a rare and dangerous breed, you observed wryly, before retuning your attention to the man across the path.

A painful ache twisted hungrily in your gut as you watched him tilt his face to the sky. Somehow the relentless beauty of his features was even more captivating in the moonlight...

Suddenly a strong breeze braided though the air around you, playing with the loose strands of your hair and carrying your scent away from the small cottage and up to the balcony where the young alpha sought solace.

Jimin’s eyes shot open as the rich, unforgettable essence of you exploded over his senses. His gaze immediately locked with yours, cutting through the distance and darkness with an intensity that left you reeling.

You could not see his face at the ascension - instead the blindfold left you burning with curiosity as your mind conjured a thousand variations of how he might have looked on you in that moment...

Yet every last one of them fell short.

You could never have imagined the naked longing - the fierce desire - that burned boldly in his regard.

A strange, desperate frustration overtook you.

He was too far away - and Namjoon was going to take him from you before you could touch him again - before you could breathe him in again-

The cruel wind continued to pull your fragrance toward Jimin like an erotic incense, yet it offered you no such gift in return. You could not discern his scent and you wanted to - needed to - with a voracity that was almost blinding.

Please...

A mournful whimper tore from your lips and Jimin’s body reacted instantly to your distress.

Suddenly he was digging through the piles of mismatched trinkets and toys on the balcony, tossing aside all manner of discarded treasures till he finally found what he was searching for.

“Jimin-hyung! Where are you? Chief elder wishes to resume-”

Jimin glanced toward door as his fingers worked frantically over the object his hands.

“I’m on my way!”

His eyes found yours one last time, then he drew back-

A muted thwack echoed a few inches from your shoulder as whatever Jimin threw embedded itself into one of the porch beams.

Your fingers trembled with anticipation as you reached forward to retrieve (what appeared to be) a pointed metal dart - probably from a wall-mounted Darts game someone donated...

A length of braided cloth was tied tightly to the shaft and you recognized it immediately as a praesidium bracelet.

Soothing waves of Jimin’s scent drifted up from the fabric where it had rubbed repeatedly against the glands in his wrist.

Your body calmed instantly. Cold desperation gave way to the soft warmth of tenderness.

He knew.

He knew what you needed and he found a way to send it to you.

Your hand closed tightly over the bracelet as you crumpled to your knees and sobbed.

A gentle knock sounded at Namjoon’s door and a familiar figure slipped inside.

“...Yunli?”

Namjoon blinked for several moments in confusion before closing his evening read to approach her.

“Yunli... why - what are you doing here? It’s late - the ritual set to begin at sunrise.” He glanced at the door behind her, “Is Yoongi with you?”

She shook her head.

“My brother doesn’t know I’m here.”

Namjoon’s eyes widened as he considered all the ways his best friend’s younger sister sneaking into his house (in the middle of the night no less) could go horribly wrong.

“Ah. Well... that’s ...not good,” he mumbled, running his hand over his face. “Are-um - are you here to wish me luck for tomorrow?”

He reached for a glass of water to soothe his suddenly dry throat.

“No. Frankly I hope Park Jimin beats you to a bloody pulp.”

Water sprayed comically out of Namjoon’s mouth as he began to cough violently.

“What?!” *wheeze* “Why?!”

She offered him a sad smile.

“You know why, Kim Namjoon.”

He did know why.

Yunli had loved him (or believed she loved him) since she was a little girl.

He sighed heavily.

“Yunli, we’ve been over this-”

“One week. The change comes to me in one week-”

“You’re Yoongi’s sister-”

“I’ll be twenty years old, and for the last time I’m not your sister-”

“Goddess above, Yunli!” he shouted, “You’re just a child!”

Yunli’s hands gripped the collar of his shirt and yanked him down to her level.

“I am not a child!” she growled.

Then her mouth was on his and every single thought he ever had disappeared.

There was only her.

Heat poured through him like heavy syrup as his senses surrendered one by one. His arms wrapped around her without the slightest hesitation, as if their sole purpose was draw her in.

Sweet... Oh goddess, she’s sweet.

Yunli whined needily and a possessive growl rumbled from his chest in response.

Then she was pulling back - wrenching herself away from him with an anguished sob.

Bitter tears flowed freely down her impossibly beautiful face and Namjoon - who spent the majority of his life barely acknowledging his heart - suddenly felt it shatter.

“You should have waited for me,” she whispered.

“Yunli-I-” he tried calling out to her, but it was no use.

She was already gone.

“Are you sure you have everything you need?”

Jimin offered his second a distracted smile and nodded. His room looked the same as it did the morning of the ascension, yet his entire life was different...

“You were great today, Taehyung. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

Tae felt his chest swell with pride. He didn’t want to think about what sunrise might bring, but he was determined to serve his old friend well.

For as long as he could.

“I don’t know about that,” he chuckled, recalling that he fell asleep on his feet for three entire terms before anyone noticed. “You’re a surprisingly ruthless negotiator. I barely contributed.”

“I wasn’t alone though...” Jimin whispered, “and when Namjoon first issued the challenge... I thought I might be.”

Taehyung gulped, pushing back the oppressive sorrow settling in his gut in favor of some levity.

“You - uh - you actually missed the wildest part of the whole day.”

“...I did?”

“Yeah it was bizarre. Did you notice the table was different after our break?”

Jimin shrugged. His thoughts had been... elsewhere at that point.

“We couldn’t find you at first, so you missed the whole ordeal but - when we all came back to the room, that big oak table was split in half.”

Hello my precious readers! If you would like to be added to the taglist, let me know in the comments.

(If you are already on the taglist, I will automatically tag you in all future chapters, you do not need to ask to be tagged again.)

Please please please PLEASE let me know what you think! This chapter was HARD and I genuinely aganized over it. Your feedback and support are what kept me pushing though. Truly. I would love to hear from you! I treasure every word of feedback like diamonds.

End Note: Yoonji was mentioned earlier in the story. She is Yoongi and Yunli’s cousin. Yunli and Yoonji are separate characters.

[that-vigilant-yaksha]

Requested by Anon: can I request hcs with xiao, albedo, and childe x reader (separately) about the reader asking them to play truth or dare, just the two of them? it went slightly towards nsfw because the reader teases the character a lot and thus SEXUAL TENSION!!

Pairings: Albedo x GN!Reader ; Childe x GN!Reader ; Xiao x GN! Reader

Warnings: Sexual Content! Nothing graphic but mentions of sexual acts

A/N: My first request! Thank you for asking! I had so much writing these. Teasing these beautiful boys and how they might reacting to it during a game of truth or dare.

You were bored. The reality didn’t match the fantasy you’d had when you decided to accompany Albedo up to his camp in Dragonspire. He actually wanted to focus on work, instead of you.

Which honestly, you shouldn’t have been surprised by. The man was obsessed with his work.

Sitting on a stool, you simply stared at his back as he pondered over the pinned papers on the board. How could one man look so sexy while reading? But you were still bummed that he wasn’t paying attention to you.

“Hey, Albedo?”

No response.

“Albedo?”

Still nothing.

Getting off the stool, you snuck over him, admiring and hating how focused he was. “Albedo!” You nearly shouted his name, throwing your arms around his waist, pressing your face into his back. “Let’s play a game!”

He agreed to play only to satiate you, because although his work meant a lot to him, he also had such a hard time saying no to you. You’ll have to explain the rules to him, as he’s never played before.

Once he has a basic understanding, Albedo plays the game seriously. He leans toward truths in the beginning. He asks strange questions, sometimes pertaining to his work. It was cute, and you let him get away with it.

But when it was his turn, you teased him endlessly. Truths were riddled with leading questions, and dares were filled with some kind of touching or kissing. You started out small, daring him for a kiss or asking for the truth of how much he thinks about you when you are apart.

Albedo isn’t stupid. While at first, he isn’t fully aware of what you are doing, he quickly puzzles it out. He’ll play dumb, calculating the best way to deal with you being so brazen.

And when he does. Oh, you are in for it. You leaned toward dares, wanting to see how far he’d take it. You’re obviously fake innocent smile as you waited to hear what he’d dare you to do only fueled him to make the dare something dirty.

“I dare you to touch yourself.”

You.exe has stopped working.

You were not prepared to hear those words come from his lips. But he was staring at you without an ounce of joking, completely serious. Your silence prompted him to tilt his head. “I believe that’s within the rules, yes? Are you refusing my dare?”

Oh, you were in for it. It was freezing up in the mountains. And he wanted you to expose yourself and masturbate? The thought did thrill you, and you realized that this was an inevitable outcome.

You comply with the dare, and things only become more heated between the two of you. Dares becoming the only thing you both chose, becoming bolder with each one.

“Perhaps next time you’ll think again before attempting to fool me, hmm?”

Occasionally, late at night, you could find Childe at Northland Bank, on night duty. He needed no assistance from the other Fatui, as the single Harbinger was more capable than a dozen of his subordinates. You weren’t supposed to bother him while he was working but you’d caught him talking to himself in different voices, showing how utterly bored he was.

 In your hands was a bottle of wine and some snacks you’d swiped from Wanmin Restaurant. Childe wasn’t the best influence on you, apparently. You tended to do some shady things after spending more time with him. “I come bearing gifts.”

Childe is absolutely thrilled that you came. He hates having to be on guard, all alone. He’s a sociable person. “Oh, I see you brought some wine and food too.” You were always a treat to be around, and the Harbinger found himself wanting to spend time with you.

The two of you spend a little time talking and drinking, snacking, and more drinking. The wine had gone to your head a little, and you thought perhaps his guard was a little down after an entire bottle. “Wanna play a game with me?”

He’s ready when you suggest a game of truth or dare. He’s played with his younger siblings often and he loves the idea.

Childe takes the game very seriously but wasn’t ready for you to take such bold actions against him. He finds it utterly adorable that you are trying to trick him. But he allows it for a little while.

He’ll pretend to not notice that your dares are getting more and more intimate, and he’ll play dumb when you ask him to tell you the truth on how much he cares for you.

It’s the tipsy side of you that is unaware that is totally playing with you, biding his time before he could turn the tables on you. Childe is the puppeteer, and you are simply the marionette, but you were always unaware.

I dare you to kiss me anywhere but on my lips. A test. To see how far the harbinger was willing to go. You'd expected the neck, maybe. Where he'd find that sweet spot to nibble on. Or he might try for your chest, as a way to return your taunts.

The world flipped, and you were flat on your back against the floor. Blue irises staring at you with such intense lust. His mouth hovering above your most sensitive part of your body.

"Ah, the look on your face is so adorable. I could just eat you up."

And he follows through with his promise. Both of you secretly glad that he always works alone. Otherwise, someone might overhear all the pretty noises you make for him.

You liked taking overnight trips to Wangshu Inn, begging Boss to go along with your little white lie that the inn was full, and you had no room to stay in. Which meant you made a plate of Almond Tofu and went to the top floor to find the resident Adeptus.

“Xiao, I made your favorite,” You said, casting a glance around the seemingly empty balcony. He was here. You could tell, since you spent so much time with him, despite his constant complaining about tainting the human world.

“You are trying to bribe an adeptus? Humans are so brazen.” But he lacked the typical irritation that he had when speaking to anyone else. He could fake it all he wanted, but you knew he liked being around you.

You snickered, offering him the plate. “Inn’s full, so you’ll let me stay with you, right? You wouldn’t want me to sleep out here in the cold and get sick, would you?”

Xiao sighed, but accepted the dish. “I would not wish to see you fall ill. I’ll allow you to stay the night, as long as you behave.” He hadn’t intended the words to be received as you took them. 

The more you thought over it, the more you wanted to twist them just a smidge. Alone in his room, you sat on the bed and waited for him to finish eating. “Xiao, let’s play a little game! To pass the time.”

What is this game you speak of? It sounds childish. He doesn't partake in silly human games.

But your bottom lip sticking out in a pleading fashion paired with your big puppy dog eyes, and the adeptus caved, unable to say no to you.

"I surrender. Explain this game to me."

 Honestly, bless this man. He tries so hard, but he is taking the game way too literally. You have to explain again that he can ask whatever and dare anything. It's easy to take advantage and get away with a lot of teasing.

You start out with daring him to let you sit in his lap and touch his hair, and for the loner Xiao, this is considered a treat. It's rare that he lets you be so affectionate.

 You up your game and start asking for lingering hugs and kisses. Just give a few wiggles in his lap and you'll have him turned on. He's a bit embarrassed but finally catches on after some questionable dares. Why were you wanting him to kiss your thighs? Not that he minded because he quite liked them.

It's so cute how unaware he is. He's got a band of pink across his cheeks, finding it harder and harder to resist you. Until he finally understands what is going on. Bless him for being so naive to human teasing.

"I see." He'd ponder his next move and be brutal about his execution. You choose dare simply to see how he'll react. "My dare for you is this. Strip, completely."

 You eagerly comply, doing it ever so slowly. Revealing your bare skin bit by bit. His golden irises watching every moment.

 Xiao is quite annoyed that you managed to confuse him for so long and get in a lot of teasing. He plans to skip your turn for a while, giving you more and more risky dares until the game ends but the night has only just begun.