#the world as it is breeds humanity worse than any monster

[delirious-donna]

I Will Possess Your Heart [Nanami Kento]

an: I started thinking about Curse User!Higuruma and naturally that led to me writing... Curse User!Nanami (why am I like this?). I haven't explored this AU for him before so please be kind <3

pairing: Nanami Kento x female reader

warnings: dub-con (reader is willing but the warning is there so take it how you wish), Curse User AU, slight yandere behaviours, toxic traits, spanking (with open palm), unprotected sex, thoughts of baby trapping, breeding kink

Masterlist

For weeks you had been on edge. Conscious of the impossible presence that seemed to lurk in every shadowy recess, the malicious whisper of laughter on every breath of wind and the scent of someone who was long gone. Were you afraid? You should be, but you weren’t. 

In the back of your mind, if the faint traces of Cursed Energy that you sensed before disappearing as quickly as they emerged were real, it meant that he wasn’t dead, that he hadn’t been captured and executed as you had been informed.

Satoru swore he was dead, that you should put him out of your mind and move on. Especially after his betrayal, after his bloody rampage that took out more sorcerers from the three big families than any Curse User in the past twenty years. Yet, you loved him. Grew up standing right beside him until… 

Kento snapped.

You shook off the feeling of unease that had followed you around all day like a personal spectre, finally kindling the sense of security that came with approaching your apartment. It was new to you, decked out in the highest-grade security equipment that money—specifically Jujutsu High’s money—could buy.

Whilst it didn’t quite feel like home, at least you were protected. You waved at the guard posted in the entrance hall, smiling when they blushed and turned their eyes from you, a scowl creasing their brow. Shaking your head in humorous exasperation, you travelled the remaining distance to your front door with the tension of the day melting from your shoulders.

Little did you realise that the precious bubble of safety you believed yourself to be protected by was about to pop like a thorn piercing an overinflated balloon. 

Kento observed from the shadows, watching, seething. They’d moved you. Lied to you. Kept his name from caressing your tongue, and he had more than had enough. He hated the games played by the higher-ups of the Jujutsu world, hated the politics and strategic alliances of the big three families which were no more than thinly veiled facades to cover the knife in the back that was around every corner. Power play far worse than the corporate drudgery he had tried to escape to, though he was ashamed to admit how long it took for him to finally open his eyes to it all.

They deserved what had transpired. He would ensure that the pain he inflicted would only be the first taste of his retribution. Hate was too emotional a word to use for those he considered to be less than human, and it was his mission to be the one to eliminate them all. Perhaps, Suguru had been right all along.

You were the exception, the one and only person he wanted to protect from the white-hot fury that poured through his veins like magma spewing from an erupting volcano, its path steady and devastating. He was still furious, and rightly so. The second you turned your face from his, he felt the last shreds of his bruised heart wither in his chest. You turned to Satoru and Shoko instead of moving towards him. You chose to remain in a world that cast him out, that actively tried to hunt and bring him down. 

He refused to believe that you had picked them over him. No. You were bewitched by the six eyes, hoodwinked by a false narrative that they were the good ones, and he was the monster. Kento couldn’t blame you, he had believed the lies for just as long and it was only now that he stood on the outside, peering in, that he could recognise the lies for what they were. 

It would be okay. He would enlighten you. After he punished you.

The front door unlocked with a quiet snick; the interior bathed in cool darkness that held no hint of the impending situation. Your fingers instinctively found the light switch, flicking it once and then twice when the bulb didn’t flare to life as it should. Click click click. Had there been a power outage? No, the neighbouring apartments were as well-lit as normal. 

Something crunched underfoot when you stepped deeper into your apartment, and that was when you realised the trap you had fallen into. Only then did your nose inhale the warm scent which had plagued you for all these long weeks, the rich aroma of expensive coffee mixed with leather and spices you couldn’t name. Only now did it intertwine with coppery, bitter notes of blood and the unforgettable reek of death. An impossibly hard body slammed into your back, sending you tumbling forward and only just catching yourself before your knees slammed into what you now knew was the broken glass of the bulb above.

The bodily contact lasted all of one second before he disappeared again. Your eyes had yet to adjust to the pure darkness that no longer felt comforting, and fear kept you from bathing yourself in the brilliance of your Cursed Energy, certain it would only help him target you all the quicker. Instead, you slapped a hand over your mouth to silence the sound of your breathing, crouching into a defensive position and fumbling forward. You weren’t as intimately familiar with the layout of this apartment as you were with the one you had lived in prior. All you could do was control the pulse of fear thrumming through your body and ignore the competing reaction that spoke of hungry anticipation. 

Kento smirked, head canting sideways whilst he watched you flail pathetically. If you wanted him dead, then he would already be a corpse on the floor, but that would never be the case, would it? His eyes had long adjusted to the absence of light, gaze following you around the room as you bumped into furniture and flinched at every touch. He could smell the terror escaping your pores. He could almost taste the frantic beat of your pulse on his tongue. Patience wasn’t a new concept to him, but right now... he found his fingers flexed deep into his thighs.

He waited until the kitchen island was at your back, stepping with silent footsteps around you and leaning back against the granite. You moved in a slow, perfect circle with your arm outstretched. Your fingertips came within an inch of grazing his abdomen, but alas, his calculations were as perfect as ever. When your back was to him once more, both arms shot out to tug you with one forceful effort into his chest. You struggled; arms pinned by your sides, but his hold was impenetrable as it always had been.

“Kento?” 

Kento laughed and even to his ear it sounded cold and devoid of emotion. “A silly question,” he answered. His voice was rough, unused for many days and the effect resulted in a ripple of something unspeakable down your spine, dripping—dripping—until you swallowed harshly and tried to twist your head around to see him.

“I think not... that luxury will be earned. I didn’t take you for such a silly girl,” Kento mocked, tightening his hold on your biceps until you squirmed in painful discomfort. “But then again, I didn’t take you for someone who would abandon me, and I was proven wrong there.”

You felt the temperature of his body skyrocket. His essence crept into you in every imaginable way, tendrils of his fiery anger licked against your bones and whilst you wanted to sob at this unexpected reunion, the rational part of your brain roared to life. He left you! He abandoned his friends and colleagues. He broke the hearts of the students who looked up to him, and yours... your heart hadn’t even begun to mend. The relief you should have felt for knowing what that poor shell of a heart had done all along, that he wasn’t dead, was a secondary reaction.

“I didn’t abandon you. How dare you say that... I thought you were dead!” 

“Did you now? I guess I should add stupid to your list of transgressions, or perhaps gullible would be more fitting. Since when did you take everything the six eyes tells you as gospel?” Kento gripped your chin with finger and thumb, the scent of his skin so close to your nose that the salty tang invaded effortlessly. With one fluid movement, he wrenched your head around and pressed a hot kiss to your lips.

The action was so unexpected that you gasped into the depths of his mouth, lips parted in surprise and Kento refused to miss the opportunity to let his tongue curl past your teeth and stroke along the pink muscle he had long admired and desired above all else. He tasted like coffee, nothing to be surprised by, given his penchant for the most expensive French roast. What did blindside you, aside from the kiss itself, was the sweet caramel that chased those bitter notes. Even now, the mellow caramel burst upon your tastebuds and brought an abundance of saliva to your mouth. The kiss was heady, all teeth and tongues, until it ended abruptly, and you were shoved forward.

It was a well-aimed push to propel you over the seat of the kitchen stool, and he smiled when he heard the air knock loose from your lungs. Before you could brace your arms onto the plush leather padding and try to stand, he moved up and let his heavy palm rest at the back of your neck, squeezing firmly. “Hold onto the legs of the stool, let’s see if you can redeem yourself.”

Did you wish to redeem yourself? Did you even believe you had anything to atone for? Shockingly, your hands trailed lower until your fingers curled around the cool brushed metal. Your heart was in your throat. Tears threatened to sting your eyes but only the desire to grit your teeth and prove that you were still the woman he had once trusted above all others outweighed your loyalty to the people trying to protect you. Keeping you in the dark was no protection, it was no life to lead when the man at your back no longer looked upon you with that crinkle of warm hazel eyes that you loved.

“There’s a good girl. I knew you’d come around to my way of thinking with the right incentive,” he cooed whilst leaning over the curve of your spine and planting one wet kiss to the juncture between your neck and shoulder. With his lips so close to your ear, a rumble of laughter was followed by words you never dreamed of hearing from him. “Imagine how receptive you’ll be when I fit my cock in your pretty little cunt.” 

Happy with your position, and certain you weren’t going to go crashing to the floor, he let his hand loosen from your neck and traversed the path of your spine. His fingertips grazed over every bump and ridge beneath the thin material of your blouse until his palm found your backside. He pawed at you once, filling his broad hand with the meat of you and imagining himself doing this to you on both sides without the barrier of clothing in his way whilst his heavy cock sawed between the cleft of your cheeks. There would be time for that, all the time in the world if he had his way.

Your eyes had finally adjusted to the lack of light, the shapes of your apartment now visible and yet you chose to squeeze your eyes shut to it all. It heightened your remaining senses, the even breathing of your captor injected with muffled little noises of satisfaction when you complied without question. His hand rounded your hip, kneading you before searching for the button and zipper of your trousers. At that, your eyes flew open, and a startled squeak escaped your tight throat. It didn’t deter him—oh no—if anything he delighted in your reaction, slowing the descent of your zipper so that every scrape of metal against metal as the teeth released tore at your nerves until they were frayed.

“Lift,” he commanded, crouched low at your feet and tapping your ankle until you did as requested and your trousers were divested of you completely. The air-conditioning was conveniently not on, leaving your bare legs to feel prickly and clammy with the warm air permeating the room and worsened by the heat of Kento’s hands as they slid from heel to backside. 

He hummed when they reached the waistband of the black thong which did so very little to cover your modesty. You wriggled, experiencing the weight of his hungry stare and clenching your thighs together in the hopes of hiding the small yet very obvious damp spot on the cotton. “If I didn’t know any better, I would have said you were expecting my visit… you wouldn’t let anyone else see these, would you?”

Rough calluses scraped your soft derriere, toying with the fabric that disappeared between your cheeks and cupped your beautiful sex. You mewled out a ‘no’, readjusting your hold on the legs given how sweaty your palms had become and basked in the answering grunt of appreciation when your backside swayed in nothing but pure temptation. Kento wanted to rip apart the threads holding him back from you, to take out his cock that had been pulsing for release since before you even entered the apartment and force your walls to accommodate him. Fuck… he would envelop you in him—only him. 

Rub his scent right into your untainted soul until it was soiled just like he wanted. 

Paint your womb with his seed with the chance of it taking. His eyes rolled over at the thought alone.

Later.

He would see you ruined beneath him soon enough, he merely needed to get your punishment over. Kento needed to hear your apology—heartfelt and sobbed through a veil of tears. Without warning his palm reared back and with the sound of a whipcrack he brought it down against your right cheek. You struggled, bucked at the impact that forced your eyes to bulge and your throat to convulse. Only his palm at the middle of your back kept you in position.

The pain was not as immediate as you assumed it would be. It was more the startle of having it happen so unexpectedly that kicked you into action, on the heels was the warm tingle of your backside. Pulses of pain moved outwardly from the impact site like a stone causing ripples on a calm lake. “Ken—"

“Uh uh. This is not time for speaking,” he chided with a click of tongue against perfectly white teeth and a tone that silenced you instantly. “This is the least you could endure after you ripped my heart out of my chest and crushed it beneath your heel. Ten. That will suffice, and then we can converse like proper adults. Until then, the only words out of those pretty lips are going to be the number we are on.”

He didn’t even wait for your reply, knowing that you would take whatever he chose to gift you like a champ. You were strong, always had been, and this was nowhere near enough to break your spirit. Kento didn’t want that, he wanted the real you that he had fallen for all those years ago as an emotionally stunted young man. You would come to understand his point of view when presented enough evidence and he had stacks of that to show you. Not now. Later, he thought again. So much had to wait but patience was his forte. 

Standing to his impressive height, he skimmed his palm over your tender backside and let out a bark of laughter when you tensed, waiting for what was to come. He waited until you relaxed, listening to your breathing mellow before delivering a short, hard smack to your left side. “Good girl,” he murmured thickly when you hissed out a ‘two’ from between clenched teeth. 

Kento was painfully hard; the length of his cock pressed stubbornly down the leg of his trousers to lay trapped against his thigh. His every inhale was like a knife to his groin, every squeeze of the muscles in your backside was a torture that he was inflicting upon himself. He twitched, precum dribbling down his thigh and turning the golden hairs of his legs sticky and wet. He would see this through. It was for the greater good, of that, he was convinced.

The repetition was agony. A vicious cycle that felt like it would never end though you had a target so close yet so far. A wealth of salty tears sprung from your eyes, falling to the floor to gather as a pitiful little puddle given the gravity of your head and body. Blood rushed through your ears; the pounding of your pulse nearly loud enough to drown out the weight of the smacks levelled against your arse. The plump tissue ached endlessly, throbbing to its own beat and it left you trapped inside your head. 

This was Kento—your Kento—delivering a punishment he deemed necessary, and you poked at his earlier words. If you were honest with yourself, you had suspected that the attraction between you was a mutual one and that the feelings ran deeper than either of you was willing to admit. You pondered how you would have felt if he had been the one to turn from you, taking the morality of who was wrong and right out of the equation, you would have been devastated.

Noiselessly, you wept for the connection you had lost all those months ago. You should be repulsed by the blood that stained his hands, but you couldn’t find it in you when all you wished to do was pull those bloodied hands to your mouth and suck the fingers between your lips. How badly you wanted to hear him groan in pleasure, to cup your face and drag his thumb over the swell of your bottom lip until it bounced back into place. 

“Ten…” 

Kento’s harsh breathing became apparent, the sound building in your ears whilst you dared not move an inch. Sweat caked your skin—hot and uncomfortable—it slid over the natural dips and curves of your frame, and you knew your face was warm enough to cook eggs. Your fingers slid against the metal legs resulting in a loud squeak and you winced… waiting, suspended in a moment that couldn’t last forever, the spell would be broken but by whom?

The rustle of clothing popped the bubble you were both suspended in, the telltale jangle of a metal belt buckle and stammered curses brought your focus behind you, your head turning to find Kento with an expression you had never seen before and undressed from the waist down. He looked like he was ready to explode. A thick vein popped from his temple, throbbing against the etched scowl and snarled mouth. You moaned and his eyes snapped to you, lips curling back from teeth to show you the ferocity firing through his veins.

Without a word, Kento moved you, so you were bent over the kitchen island, and you sighed from the reprieve of the awkward position you had been forced to hold. The buttons of your blouse skittered across the kitchen tiles when two powerful hands fisted either side of them and ripped it open. His mouth and hands were everywhere and all at once.

“You’ve no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this,” he admitted. Wet kisses decorated the side of your neck, lips moulding over your pulse and humming happily at the frantic rhythm that mirrored his own. The brush of his bare thighs against yours elicited a guttural groan, taking the opportunity to reach back and scratch at the rough undercut at his nape, fingers delving into his hair and pressing him deeper into the crook of your neck whilst he marked you as his.

“…’m sorry, Kento. Please forgive me,” you sobbed brokenly, completely torn between burning joy and icy regret. An urgent hand pressed between your legs, thick fingers prodding and feeling the sopping fabric slick with arousal and sculpted to the molten heat of your swollen lips.

“Fuck. Save your apologies. I’ll hear them later, preferably whilst you’re gagging around my cock.”

Your backside rippled from the impact of his pelvis slamming into you, pulling a pained hiss from your lips. Kento chuckled darkly, the heat of your abused flesh warming that part of his soul that refused comfort until this very moment. He had no time to spare to remove your underwear, having used up all his patience in the measured delivery of his hand against your perfect behind. Ignoring the sharp prickling sensation radiating in his palm, he simply shoved them aside until he could push his heavy cock through. He wanted to ask if you were this wet because of the spanking or if you were merely pleased to see him, but the beastly part of his brain was firmly in the driver’s seat.

He was merciless; kicking your feet apart to widen your stance, tapping the fat head of his cock against your swollen clit and roaring in triumph when you pushed back against him. One second, he was teasing you, the next he was notched at your cunt and shunting himself forward. Kento gripped your hip, pulling you back whilst he worked inside, and the stretch was exactly what you expected. Every inch tickled your insides, thick veins stark and massaged by gummy walls made to take him.

“That’s it… there we go. God, look at you. Your pretty pussy is sucking me in… mm, more? All yours, sweetheart.” He crooned his lust-roughened rhetoric, and all you could do was hold onto the counter so your knees wouldn’t give out entirely. They shook with the force of his thrusts whilst he held you so tightly as if he worried you would slip through his fingers again. Not a fucking chance. You were his, and he wanted you to know that.

“Mine,” he growled, spittle flecking your shoulder as he bent over your body and bit into your tender skin. You howled, a mixture of pleasure and pain lighting up your insides. Stars winked in and out of your vision and you danced on your tippy toes as an orgasm near forced him out of you. If not for his determination to remain in the heart of your body, abusing the soft tissue near your belly, you would have expelled him with the force of your release.

Kento crowed like a maniacal king. Fucking you right through your high without a care for the overstimulation that left you whimpering and drooling onto the granite countertop. Your cheek pressed against the cool surface, eyes flickering between open and shut as you fought the desire to pass out. The pressure of your pulsing walls, the suction of your cunt drawing him back inside each time he pulled back was his undoing, and although he had planned to cum down your throat so he could see your tear-stained face, he couldn’t pull out. His balls drew close to his body, the familiar drip of impending release stirring at the small of his back but so much more intense than ever before. His head was thrown back at the first spurt of seed exploding outward to knock up against your fertile womb with only thoughts of what it might be like to have your soft stomach grow with his child on his mind.

Never had he produced so much, and he wondered if he had been saving it up for you. A ridiculous thought had he been in his right mind, but you both knew that wasn’t the case. His hands gentled, bruises forming the pattern of his fingertips marked your hips and waist. He smiled, the first true smile in what felt like forever. Soon he was laughing, and the jostle made you moan out, his softening cock twitching in your cunt and tickling you.

“I think I am more than ready to hear your apology, little dove.”

And you were more than ready to give it to him, after all… Kento possessed your heart.

[therhythmafterthesummer]

Alpha Dog (M) ~Bang Chan

Pairing: Werewolf!Chan x Human!F.Reader Themes: Supernatural/Fantasy AU | Smut | Fluff | Roomies to Lovers | Soulmate AU? 👀 Warnings: Chris’ POV, curvy/chubby MC, pet names, mentions and descriptions of werewolf mating cycles, mandatory Christopher is Intense™ warning (it’s even worse when you can read his thoughts), graphic depictions of intercourse (smut warnings under the cut). Word Count: ~17k sobbing | AO3 Summary: Chris had a dream since he was very young. He wanted to have a pack of his own, to build a safe space for people with views just like his. Once he managed to accomplish that, he would’ve never imagined that his next dream would arrive at his doorstep in a pretty sundress.

Author’s Note: i wanted to expand Chris’ character in this series of stories, so this monster was born ! i think it could actually be a good starter piece for my WereRoomies series, or, if anything, just a good read 🤭 if you’re reading this, hope you enjoy, and don’t hesitate to let me know what you think !

Due to all the abovementioned warnings, this story is intended for an adult audience only. Minors please do not interact.

Chris’ WereRoomies Instalments:  It’s Cold Out · Rut · Alpha Dog · It’s Warm In · Love is Easy · Afraid to Lose You. For extra drabbles, check out the series masterlist.

Smut Warnings: thigh kink · possessiveness · a barely even present breeding kink · praising · oral [F.&M.Rec, but the M.Rec is not as detailed] · breast/nipple play · forced orgasm (F.Rec) · fingering [F.Rec] · unprotected penetration [piv. no barrier method, but reader is presumed to be on birth control] · cum eating · marking (as in, sucking love bites on someone’s skin) · intercrural · cumshot/cum on body. there’s just a lot going on i’m sorry or am i? 👀

Disclaimer: the story represented in this work does not represent Stray Kids in any way; anything described in this story and all actions performed by the characters are purely fictional, this was created just for good fun.

Since the moment Chris gained his consciousness when he was very young, he knew what he was. It was impossible not to know, when the dynamic of his entire family was basically ingrained in his DNA. 

Chris was a werewolf. His mother was a werewolf, his father was a werewolf, as were his grandparents, and they were all part of the same pack since his grandparents joined it before Chris’ parents were even born.

Chris’ childhood pack was big, consisting of several different blood-related families that were being led by the same alpha. Due to the numerous members of that pack, it felt like it was more of a closed off community than a family–especially considering members of the pack that weren’t blood related would often mate with each other. Even as he grew up, Chris felt as if these people weren’t really close to him, aside, of course, from his blood relatives and his best friend, Changbin.

It wasn’t as if they were all bad people, he just didn’t feel like he could be fully himself with the rest. They were often a bit close minded when it came to werewolf ‘traditions’, with deep desires to keep humans at bay, or turn them whenever it was suitable for the pack, whenever they saw fit, regardless of the human’s wishes. Some of them would even believe in the designation hierarchy–alphas over betas and omegas, always–which was something Chris never really understood, nor supported in any way.

Thankfully for him, his blood family was quite progressive compared to the rest of the pack, and even if the others looked down on them for it, his parents decided to socialise Chris with humans from a young age. They sent him to a human school, let him have human friends–with the only condition to not reveal anything about his lycanthropy or the pack to them–and that contact with the outside world simply highlighted the fact that all these archaic customs in the pack made absolutely no sense to him.

So when puberty hit him, and his alpha nature started to really settle in him, he knew that he wanted to start a pack of his own. A pack where no member would feel judged or held back by the rest, where everyone could be equal.

It wasn’t really that much of a surprise, honestly. His parents always knew he would be an alpha–based on how thick-headed he was and how he would often lead his group of peers from a young age–so when Chris told his mother about this desire of his, she immediately supported him.

His father took a bit longer to accept it, but eventually he simply understood. ‘It’s too late for us. This pack is our family, we’ve already accepted the good as well as the bad, but you’ll always be our son whether you’re a member of it or not’, which was enough acceptance for Chris.

So as soon as he was of age and he went to university, he broke ties off with his childhood pack, and for a couple of years, he was seemingly on his own.

Some people from his childhood pack would even try to ridicule him, to look down on him whenever they met him on the streets or whenever he went to visit his parents. Chris knew it was because they thought he was crazy for being out there on his own. 

What they didn’t know was that he wasn’t really alone. He had Changbin and Jisung.

Before Chris left his childhood pack he told Changbin of his idea, of his goal of leading a pack of his own, and without missing a beat Changbin immediately told him he’d join him as soon as he was of age, as long as Chris wanted him. And of course Chris wanted Changbin in his pack, he was one of the few people he trusted more in this world.

Jisung was also a childhood friend, but he didn’t belong to the same pack Chris and Changbin did at the time. He became friends with them after his pack moved away from their previous den to form a new one in the same city Chris and Changbin grew up in. His parents enrolled him in the same school as them as soon as they settled, which was how the three of them met.

As it turned out, Jisung was also unhappy in his childhood pack, he was an omega, and much like Chris’ childhood pack, omegas were viewed as of lower status than any other designation, so he was often disregarded or even mistreated. And just like Changbin, as soon as Chris told Jisung of his future plans, Jisung also decided to join them when he was of age.

So while someone outside of Chris’ circle might’ve thought he was a lone wolf, a packless misfit, the reality was that he felt happier, more at ease while he waited for Changbin and Jisung to defect, than he ever did in his childhood pack. Two years wasn’t that long of a wait–considering that was the age gap between him and Changbin–so he decided to place his focus on his studies for those couple of years on his own.

Eventually, as the three of them grew up, Chris’ pack started to take more shape. Changbin was his obvious right hand, he had this sense of responsibility and protectiveness that made him a perfect second in command. However, Jisung never even entertained the possibility of being his left hand, because, in his words, ‘I’m not cut out for that, I’d get everyone starved or killed’, which was valid in Chris’ opinion, after all, it wasn’t really in his inherit nature to lead or protect others, quite the opposite actually, so Chris let it go without much of a fight.

Jisung did offer a candidate, though. A childhood friend of his, Minho, a human turned werewolf with no real pack of his own who had no real desire to lead, but was incredibly caring and protective, and, in Jisung’s words, someone who had a heart of gold.

As time went on, as they met more friends throughout their years at university, Chris’ pack grew. With the addition of Hyunjin, Felix, Seungmin, and Jeongin his pack became a tight group of eight young werewolves who were simply trying to find their place in the world, a group of people who weren’t happy in the conditions they lived in before and wanted a change, a healthy environment. 

Since then, Chris, Minho, and Changbin tried their absolute best to keep this safe, healthy ecosystem. And in Chris’ humble opinion, they were succeeding at that. Sure, they fought sometimes, just like any other family or pack or group of friends would, but things could always be solved one way or another. For once, Chris truly felt as if he was exactly where he was supposed to be, doing what he was supposed to do–what he wanted to do. 

Aside from his supernatural condition, Chris always thought of himself as a simple man. When his mind wasn’t dominated by his wolf instincts, he’d just feel like any other dude out there. He liked to play computer games, he had friends he’d often hang out with–not only his packmates, but also people he’d met throughout his life–and he had a stable, decent paying job as a software engineer which he quite enjoyed. But he’d admit that sometimes, it felt as if something was missing… And that something was romantic love.

The topic of love and romantic relationships was quite tricky for him. He’d dated a few people in his life, but no one really seemed to stick for too long, either because he was always a bit too intense of a guy, or because they simply didn’t really understand his pack’s dynamic.

Oftentimes, especially when he dated a human, they just couldn’t really understand why his ‘friends’ were so important to him. He’d been told things from ‘you care more about your friends than you care about me’, to ‘it’s a bit weird how close you are. Y’all practically live together?’ They simply wouldn’t get it, and it wasn’t like he could reveal his condition to just anyone and explain, so those relationships would end as soon as the person showed any discomfort in regards to his pack, which was honestly for the best.

Then on the other side of the spectrum, when he dated other werewolves, it all often fell too much into the traditional dynamic of ‘you’re an alpha, I’m an XYZ, so we must be and do things this and this way’, and even if he tried to break those moulds a bit, it just wouldn’t work out.

So one day, right after another failed relationship, Chris decided to just… Let things flow. He was fine being single.

Did he have the intense need to pamper and take care of someone romantically? Yes. Did he have physical needs that he wished he could fulfil with the warmth of another person? Also yes. But he decided to bear it regardless. If he never found someone who understood him and his family dynamic then he was happy to die single. After all, his pack was, and would always be, his utmost priority.

He would’ve never imagined that it would all change once he finally realised he couldn’t live on his own.

In the very early stages of Chris’ pack, they had to decide where their den would be. Changbin’s parents were well off, they owned a handful of buildings throughout the city, so with a bit of convincing, they let Chris, Changbin, Jisung, and anyone that came after settle in one of their buildings at a discount price. 

For a couple of years, the three of them lived in the same flat, but as more people joined Chris’ pack they kept rearranging themselves to get the best comfort, leaving Chris in a flat of his own, which was great at the beginning. He had his own space and privacy, and for a while, it was fine.

But when his grandparents passed away, leaving a huge house under Chris’ name, things changed. Between the expensive utility bills of his flat, and what he had to spend upkeeping his house in the woods, he just never had money to spare. He had to accept the fact that he needed a roommate, but everyone was already settled in their own living arrangements within the den, and he didn’t want to disrupt any of his packmates with this.

One day, during a phone call with his mother, Chris told her of this predicament of his, and she offered to help find a suitable roommate–as long as Chris wanted her help, of course.

He trusted his mother’s judgement, so he agreed, and next time she came to visit him, it looked like this woman had seen an angel come down from the heavens, because her face was glowing, and she exclaimed the most overly excited ‘Oh, honey! I got the perfect candidate. Remember my coworker’s daughter I always talk to you about?’

How could he not remember her coworker’s daughter when his mother tried to bring her up at least once whenever he came to visit? Of course he remembered you. His mother had met you a few times, always described you as a ‘beautiful, sensible, young woman’, and honestly sometimes Chris wondered if she was trying to set him up, especially when she’d conveniently mention how ‘you really need someone like that in your pack, pup… A sensible, caring figure would do you all some good, especially a female one. There are just too many males at your den, I don’t know how you get anything done…’

It honestly didn’t surprise him that much for her to say that, she was surrounded by incompetent males all the time, always had to pick up their messes, so she’d gotten quite radical on the importance of female figures… Chris just didn’t really care about the gender of his roommate or his packmates at all, so he decided to follow through with her suggestion.

Apparently, you had been looking to move out of your mother’s house, or that was what your mother told Chris’ mother, so considering you were someone his mother already knew who seemed to be nice enough, he said fuck it and told his mother to give you his number, requesting for her to ‘not get too excited. I just need a roommate, mum. For all I know she might not even integrate well, maybe she’d hardly ever be home… Relax, I’m not getting married, jeez…’ Which his mother honestly didn’t look too convinced about.

He expected nothing of it, really. He wasn’t even sure if you’d call, but a few days after he had that conversation with his mother, you finally called, and you both arranged a time for you to come visit so you could see the place for yourself.

He was, admittedly, a bit nervous, mostly because he didn’t want to make his condition known, or to make you uncomfortable in any way. After all, he was just an unknown man you were coming to meet and possibly live with.

When the day finally came, the moment Chris opened his door and met you he realised three things:

One, that you smelt like flowers. And not in a perfume way, more like in your natural scent way. Everyone had a different scent, it was typically more noticeable to him in other werewolves than humans, but humans most definitely had a scent, and you smelt just like freshly picked flowers.

Two, that you had a smile that could easily outshine the sun. When you smiled your cheeks would round up, and your eyes would disappear, and it was just such an endearing gesture it was hard for him not to focus on it. 

And three, that you had the most scrumptious body he had ever seen. 

Chris often prided himself on being a rational being, with a lot of self-control even for someone with a condition just like his, but as soon as he took in the shape of your body, it was almost as if he could feel his human mind short circuit and hear his inner wolf howling in desire.

He’d never been much of having a ‘type’ when it came to his partners, at least not physically. Sure, there were certain attributes he preferred, but in the grand scheme of things he’d fancied people with all different types of looks. That day, though, as he struggled to make coherent sentences and act normal while he showed you the place, Chris realised–quite puzzled, he might add–that maybe he did have a type, and maybe that type was you.

“So, this is the living room… As I mentioned on the phone, my friends often come to watch movies or just hang out. Don’t worry, though, they’re good people and very respectful. But I could totally understand if that’s something you can’t deal with”, why did you wear a sundress? Sure, it was starting to get hot out, but did you even realise how good that dress looked on you? You must’ve, there was no way you didn’t know how good you looked… Would you notice how hard he was trying not to look at your cleavage? He hoped you didn’t.

“If they truly are as nice as you say I don’t think I’ll mind, to be honest… If I move in I’d just… Prefer if they didn’t enter my room, I guess? Other than that I don’t mind”, you sounded genuine when you said it, and that did ease Chris’ worries a bit.

He took his sweet time showing you the place, the bathroom, what would be your bedroom if you moved in, even his bedroom, the kitchen, the pantry, the laundry room… All as an easy conversation flowed between you two, all as he struggled massively to not focus on the movement of your hips when you walked, to not focus on the sudden impulse he had to wrap his arm around your waist and pull you close.

Stop being a creep, Christopher… She’s a person. A person with feelings, stop being a creep… He repeated to himself every time he caught his eyes wandering, and for the most part, he was succeeding. At least, until you sat down on one of the kitchen stools and crossed one leg over the other, making the hem of your dress rise a bit, exposing the skin of your thighs.

This must be a test, he reasoned with himself.

The universe was trying to test his self-control by presenting you to him, all pretty, kind, and with the softest looking thighs he had ever seen. Chris could feel his hands literally itching with need, wondering if you’d feel as soft all over as you looked, but he quickly shoved all these thoughts as deep as he could within himself, focusing instead on the things you were telling him.

You were so nice. Just as his mother had told him, you seemed to be very sensible, very down to earth, and those traits made it so he had no reservations about having a human like you living with him. Sure, Chris knew it would be difficult to keep his condition hidden, but regardless of that immediate reaction he had to your presence, there was just something in the back of his mind telling him that having you here would be good for him and his pack, so he decided to follow that gut instinct, telling you you could move in whenever, and in a week’s time, you did.

It was honestly a bit odd at first. Chris had been living on his own for a while, and sure, his packmates would often drop by and stay over, but having an unfamiliar scent at home was certainly weird the first couple of weeks. Even then, he’d admit it wasn’t entirely unpleasant. If anything, it just added a bit of life to the otherwise silent–and sometimes lonely–space.

You quickly got acquainted with his friends, Chris supposed it was hard for you not to when they spent so much time coming to his flat, and somehow you never really seemed to question it. At one point, you even adopted their mannerisms.

Chris’ pack was very affectionate, he’d be the first one to admit it. Pet names were a constant thing among the pack, cuddling was a must, and even if you still didn’t know about their condition, you simply accepted their loving, overly affectionate behaviour as the norm, and even embraced it.

The fact that Chris and his friends were werewolves was something he had decided was best for you not to know, at least not from the get-go. He told his packmates he just didn’t see the need, that it could be dangerous–in reality, he just didn’t want to spook you. He feared that the moment you found out of their lycanthropy you’d leave, and even if he wasn’t sure why, he just didn’t want that to happen, so he would often conveniently dance around the truth whenever their condition was involved.

A month after you moved in, Felix suggested to have a movie night, simply saying ‘we haven’t had one in a while, and I could really use one to unwind!’ It had been a really long week for Chris, too, and he figured it’d be a good way to include you in their communal activities. So, as it was customary, those who wanted to join would come to Chris’ flat.

It was just Felix, Changbin, Seungmin, you, and Chris that night, the rest of his packmates had other things to do, so they had to skip it, which maybe was for the best, that way all of you wouldn’t have to cram on the sofa.

Felix had promised to bring a big box of macarons from his workplace, and he delivered. The box was filled to the brim with an assortment of different flavours–not an elegant presentation by any means, and some of them got crushed on the way, but that wouldn’t stop any of them from devouring each and every cookie.

When he placed it on the kitchen counter and opened it, Chris spotted the pink ones immediately. They were his favourite, but there were only a handful of them in the entire box, to which Felix gave him an apologetic smile, a ‘there just weren’t enough by the end of my shift’, and a shrug when Chris looked at him with a sad pout on his lips.

Chris took popcorn-making duties, and by the time it was ready and in its designated bowls, the vacuums he had for packmates had somehow eaten almost every single pink macaron, leaving only one in the box. He saw the scene play in slow motion as you made your way into the kitchen and reached for that last cookie.

Chris liked to give things to people, he really did, but that pink macaron had been holding together his last shred of sanity that day, so he acted quickly, snatching it out of the box and giving you a “nuh-uh, cutie. This one’s for me”.

“Aw, Chris!” You tried to reach for it, but he held it over your head, as far away from your grabby hands as he could. “C’mon! Those are so good!”

“I know they’re good! That’s why I want it”, he chuckled, pulling it further away from your reach when you tried to grab it again.

“Don’t be mean, babe”, you were pouting and everything, which had his heart clenching a bit, but you didn’t need to know that. He had to stay strong so he could have this delicious treat. “Give it to me?”

“Say please and maybe I’ll consider it”, he wasn’t going to consider it, which was why he had the biggest shit-eating grin on his face. This was his strawberry macaron that he desperately needed, just the thought of the sugary cookie melting in his mouth had him already salivating.

However, Chris realised very quickly how ill-prepared he was for the situation he’d put himself in the moment you took a step closer to him, taking a hold of his hand that had been limp by his side, caressing the back of it with your thumb as you looked him right in the eyes with that pout on your lips.

“Please, baby… I really want it. I’ll bring you some tomorrow. Promise”, you brought your free hand to your heart, making a cross over it to emphasise that promise. “Please?”

For a second, he froze. His arm was getting tired from holding the stupid cookie over your head, and he dumbly stared at your face, shifting his focus from your lips to your eyes a few times. Did you… Did you know how cute you looked? Were you doing it on purpose? You must’ve known, right?

As soon as Chris started to feel his heart thump aggressively in his chest, he realised he had–very stupidly–walked himself into a corner. He had lost, and, in a poor attempt to not let you know how fast you had disarmed him, he sighed–rather dramatically–in what he hoped came across as annoyance.

“Alright, you can have it”, he brought the macaron down and held it to your lips. “But you’ll seriously have to buy me some tomorrow, yeah?”

The smile that came to your face made his heart skip a beat, and the second you took the macaron between your lips, lightly brushing his fingers in the process, Chris could’ve sworn his heart stopped completely. 

Before he could even register the movement, you had moved closer, suddenly pressing a quick, loud kiss to his cheek, muttering a ‘you’re the best, darling. I’ll bring you at least two dozen tomorrow!’ before you walked away and left the kitchen to join Seungmin and Felix on the sofa.

It all happened so fast, Chris could feel his skin burn where you had kissed him, and he realised too late that it was because he was blushing. Blushing! Why was he blushing? How dared his cheeks betray him this way?

“Dude…” Chris’ head snapped in the direction of Changbin’s voice, where he was looking at him from the other side of the kitchen counter, with the most insufferable grin on his face.

“Don’t”, Chris grumbled as he lifted a finger in Changbin’s direction, which only made Changbin’s grin widen. Grabbing the biggest bowl of popcorn, Chris decided to ignore his friend’s teasing eyes completely, finally leaving the kitchen to place the bowl on the coffee table and sit his ass as far away from you as possible. He could still feel his face burn, which made it all so much worse.

That night, after everyone left, after you retreated to your room and Chris was finally able to lay in bed, completely alone with his thoughts, he couldn’t stop thinking about that moment.

About the way your eyes were almost sparkling when he told you you could have the damn cookie, about the look of delight on your face when he fed it to you, about the damn kiss… It was all just a friendly gesture, really. You were just being nice, like you always were, but as his mind recounted the moment in an endless loop, he eventually realised that all those things he felt the day he saw you for the first time had just been warning signs.

He tried to push all these thoughts to the back of his mind again. You were his roommate. His human roommate who had no idea what Chris and his friends were. It was stupid of him to think about you as anything other than that, and yet, the more he interacted with you, the more time passed of you living with him at his den, the harder it became to ignore what he felt, especially whenever you went out on dates.

His logical, human side always tried to brush off the fact that you were dating people. After all, sometimes, you did come back home looking happy, as if you even had fun, which was a good thing. But his idiotic, wolf side just hated whenever you came home smelling like other men. He couldn’t–and wouldn’t–stop you because of it, of course. That would’ve been absolutely insane of him to do, but one day, when he saw your laundry hanging on the drying rack he just couldn’t help himself… 

Chris figured scenting your clothes wouldn’t hurt, right? You wouldn’t notice… And other people might not even notice, either, but he just wanted you to come home and still smell like him, and frequently, that worked. He’d admit he even grew a bit more shameless about it as time went on, hugging you or kissing your forehead before you left the house to leave his scent on you–something you never really questioned, either.

Whenever his pack members commented on it, Chris simply told them it was for protection, to keep you safe from other wolves–he wasn’t sure if they believed him, considering they wouldn’t stop teasing him about it every time they could…

By the fourth month of you living here, he was sure he had mastered the art of Ignoring His Feelings.

He would still scent your clothes, especially on nights like this one, where you were going on a date with some guy. But other than that he was doing an excellent job at not thinking about you in any ways other than platonic–or at least, that was what Chris tried to tell himself.

Truth was, he still had those impulsive thoughts from time to time. Soft. Nice. Pretty… 

He would quickly stop his train of thought whenever he caught himself, disregarding the almost instinctual way his hands flexed whenever he looked at you. Tonight, before you left, he tried his best to absolutely ignore the dress you were wearing and how good you looked in it, and how it hugged your curves so nicely, and the way your thighs looked in those tights… Would he ever be able to touch them? Squeeze them? Maybe even kiss–

The sudden sound of growls startled him, breaking his train of thought. Chris chuckled, amused by the way Hyunjin, Jisung, and Jeongin chased their tails while running in circles in the middle of his living room. “What the hell are you even doing?”

“They’re trying to see who can catch his tail faster”, Felix replied simply, taking a sip of the soda in his hand, slinging an arm over Chris’ shoulders.

“You’re gonna hurt yourselves. Stop that”, Minho grumbled from the kitchen, where he and Seungmin prepared snacks for the night.

Among the growls coming from the three spinning wolves, and the constant talking between the rest, Chris failed to hear the sound of the front door opening. It took him a second too late to be hit by the smell of your floral scent, and by the time he had registered it and jumped to his feet from where he had been slouching on the sofa, it was too late.

You stood wide eyed by the hall, looking between the three wolves in the middle of the living room. For a second, everyone froze, looking in your direction, and before Chris could even say anything, he stared in horror as Jeongin started to shift back into his human form.

“It’s not what it looks like!” Jeongin had the nerve to say to you, as if he wasn’t buttnaked, as if he hadn’t just shapeshifted right in front of your eyes.

Your mouth opened and closed a few times. Your gaze shifted from the two wolves and Jeongin to everyone else in the room, landing on Chris last. He saw your hands tremble a bit, and, in an instant, before he could even register the movement, you were bolting out the door.

Chris immediately sprung into action, chasing you, calling for you. “Wait!”

You weren’t supposed to be here. You had a date. You were even prepared in case you wouldn’t even come back tonight, or, at least, that was what you told Chris before you left earlier that day. Panic brewed quickly inside of him, he really couldn’t let you go like this.

Chris caught up to you on the stairs, right on the landing between one floor and the other. Taking a hold of your elbow, he tugged you back before you kept going on your way. “Wait! Listen–”

“What the fuck?!” You tried to pry yourself away. In a different circumstance, Chris would’ve let you go on the spot, but this was no ordinary situation, so he simply tightened his hold, keeping you in place and within reach. Your eyes widened, and he saw immediately the exact moment you realised the extent of his strength.

“Listen to me. It’s not–”

“Don’t you dare say that!” Your eyes frantically roamed his face, and the combination of confusion and fear he could see in your eyes made his heart clench. “What does it look like, then?! Huh, Christopher?!”

Chris opened and closed his mouth a few times, but the words wouldn’t come out. What should he say? That what you saw wasn’t real? That you must’ve misinterpreted it all? That would’ve been the right thing to do, wouldn’t it? But as he looked into your eyes, he just couldn’t find it in him to lie to you.

“I just saw Jeongin’s body twist and turn in ways I would’ve never even imagined were possible!” Your lower lip was trembling slightly, the words that came out of your mouth were unsteady, and your scent was starting to tint with what Chris could only define as panic, which in turn was making him panic. “What the fuck was that about?! What are you people?”

“I– We–” The words just wouldn’t come out of his mouth. He should’ve had a plan for this, it was only a matter of time for you to find out their little secret, but he truly hadn’t expected it to be so soon. 

Upon his unresponsiveness, you tried to pull yourself away from him again, and Chris couldn’t help but tighten his hold on your arm in response. He hadn’t meant to, but he was going into fight or flight and his body seemed to be trying its absolute best to keep you from leaving.

You winced, and the grimace on your face started the alarm bells in his head. “Chris… Please. It hurts”.

Chris let go of your arm as if it had caught on fire, and when you brought your other hand to soothe the area he had been holding onto, when he saw that look of discomfort on your face, he couldn’t help but feel incredibly guilty.

He’d failed you.

He hurt you, he failed you, and the amount of distress that realisation brought him was quickly taking a hold of each and every single one of his nerve-endings.

“God, I’m so sorry”, Chris took a step back, avoiding your eyes entirely. “So, so sorry… I didn’t mean–”

“What are you, Chris?” Your voice trembled again, but it didn’t seem like you’d run away.

With a deep intake of breath, Chris tried to find the courage to look you in the eyes again. “I’m… I’m a werewolf”.

You blinked, looking him up and down, looking at him like he had three heads. “A… A werewolf?”

“Mm… Only Jeongin shifted when he saw you, probably out of stress or because he panicked… The three wolves… It was Hyunjin, Jisung, and Jeongin. We’re all werewolves”.

“Werewolves… As in… Half human, half wolf? Like in fairy tales?” You sounded genuinely incredulous, and Chris couldn’t blame you.

He shrugged, tucking his hands in his short’s pockets, looking away from you again, fixing his gaze on the floor. “They’re not just fairy tales. There’s a whole world of creatures out there you don’t even know about, but it’s there”.

“Can’t believe this…” You muttered to yourself, threading your fingers through your hair, tugging the strands between your fingers.

“You… You can’t tell anyone–”

“Who the hell would I tell?!” You chuckled, a chuckle that lacked any semblance of amusement, and it made him wince.

You both stayed in silence, neither of you sure on what to say to the other. Until finally, you heaved a sigh, turning to continue your walk down the stairs. “Werewolves… This is all madness…”

“Wait–!”

“Don’t!” You whipped your face in Chris’ direction. Your hands were shaking. Actually, it looked like your entire body was shaking. “Don’t follow me”, was the last thing you told him, and he would never forget the look in your eyes that day, completely lost, void of your usual shine.

Chris just stood there for a moment, listening to the quick clack clack clacks of your heels as you walked the steps, until he finally heard the main door of the building opening and eventually slamming closed. He could feel his heart ache, just the memory of the tone of your voice and that look in your eyes made his heart race for all the wrong reasons.

Chris was at a loss, unable to comprehend how it all got out of hand so quickly. He should’ve known, this was bound to happen eventually, they couldn’t keep hiding from you forever. But what he hadn’t expected was the feeling of utter dejection the entire exchange brought him.

After a few minutes, when Chris was back in his flat, with the seven pairs of eyes staring worriedly at him, he realised he had to get a grip.

“Chris, I’m sorry. It’s my fault–” Jeongin started, looking absolutely ashamed, but Chris stopped him immediately. 

“Don’t worry about it. She was going to find out eventually”, he was honestly proud at how even his voice was coming out of his mouth, and he hoped his packmates couldn’t feel the weird emotional state he was in. He shot Minho and Changbin a quick look, and they seemed to catch onto his signal fairly quickly–if the way they stiffened was anything to go by. “You guys go on. I’m… Tired. I’ll just be in my room, Yeah?” 

No one seemed to question it, for which Chris was grateful. He needed some time alone to think, but even then the presence of his packmates just out of his door did comfort him a bit.

You were gone for a long while after that. The mood of the pack had almost reached the core of the planet by how low it was, but admittedly, Chris had taken the biggest blow. Eventually, everyone noticed, but no one other than Minho talked to him about it. ‘She’ll come around, I’m sure’, he told Chris one day, but it was hard for him to believe those words when he could still get a phantom of the panic in your scent whenever he was on his own. 

You didn’t tell her in time. You hurt her. You failed her… His brain wouldn’t stop nagging him day and night. He tried to convince himself that there was no need for him to feel the way he did, that these things happened sometimes, but he knew it wouldn’t be that easy, he had to make it up to you somehow.

He tried to text you, a ‘hey… how’re you’ that you didn’t reply to. The rest of the pack tried to as well, explaining as much as they could, but you also didn’t reply to them. No one had been able to get a hold of you, and Chris was just losing all hope. 

Until seven days after the entire thing the sound of a key going into his front door’s keyhole startled him, pumping adrenaline through his system, making him jump out of his bed. By the time you were opening the door and stepping into the flat Chris was already coming out of his room, looking at you.

“So…” You cleared your throat once you closed the door behind you, dropping your keys in their designated bowl on the bureau, and crossing your arms over your chest. “Werewolves?”

Chris nodded, staying rooted on the spot, afraid any movement he made would scare you in any way. “Werewolves”.

“Does it… Does it hurt when you shift?” Out of all the things you could’ve asked, that wasn’t exactly what Chris thought you’d ask first, not after being away for so long, but he decided to answer regardless. There was no point in hiding it now, the cat–or should he say, the wolf…–was already out of the bag.

He shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest as well. “It’s not comfortable, but it doesn’t really hurt hurt”.

“Mmm…” You stayed silent for a bit, until your eyes found Chris’, and you took a step closer. “So… You guys are like… A pack? A pack of wolves?” Chris simply nodded in response, and since he didn’t say anything else, you continued. “Why would you even let me move in?”

“You’re nice”, Chris replied immediately, maybe a bit too fast. But it was the truth, so he felt like saying it. “Very nice. At the time it just… Made sense to me”.

“So, you’re like… Their leader? What’s it called… Alpha?”

Chris chuckled. “Where did you even get this from? But yes, I’m the alpha of the pack”. 

“It’s amazing what you can find on the Internet these days”, you shrugged. “Did you ever even have intentions of telling me all this? Did you lie to me about anything else?”

Chris shook his head. “No, we… We’re exactly the same people you met. The fact that we are what we are was the only thing I didn’t…” Chris sighed. “Honestly? I wanted to tell you. But I was… A bit scared you’d get spooked and leave”.

“You don’t want me to leave?” You sounded genuinely incredulous, and it puzzled him. 

“‘Course not”, Chris said it like it was the most logical thing in the world. In reality, it wasn’t. You were a human, a human living in a werewolf den. It seemingly didn’t make sense, but to Chris, somehow, it made all the sense in the world. “Do you want to leave?”

You looked at him for a moment. Chris held his breath, watching you closely once you finally moved, coming towards him.

Tentatively, you walked into his space, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him close to you. As soon as your scent engulfed him fully, his body reacted almost on its own, wrapping his arms around your waist to hold you close, and heaving an almost involuntary sigh of relief.

“I don’t”, you mumbled against his shoulder, and the way your lips brushed his bare skin had his ears heating up. He should’ve put on a t-shirt before he left his room to meet you… “You guys… Are really nice, too”.

Chris hummed, hugging you a bit tighter for a while, for as long as you’d let him. Eventually, you were speaking again.

“So… If I’m staying at this werewolf den, does that mean you’re my alpha, too?”

Chris was glad you were not a werewolf. If you had been you would’ve heard how quickly his heart started to beat when you said that. The mere idea that you’d call him your alpha awoke something in him. Something he couldn’t unpack right here right now with you in his arms. 

You clearly didn’t know what that meant, you just made a logical assumption based on the little information you probably had, but if he ever heard you call him your alpha out loud he was sure he’d explode. So he decided to reach a middle ground, innocuous enough you wouldn’t be able to tell how much he was struggling with this. 

“Only–” His voice betrayed him, coming out of his mouth a bit strained. So he cleared his throat, trying to act normal. “Only if you’re a member of the pack, I suppose”. 

“Am I?” You asked, sounding genuinely curious. 

“If… If you want. Being a member of the pack… Entitles many things. if you’re willing to abide by those things then of course you can”. 

You hummed, burying your face further in the crook of his neck. 

“For what is worth, I… Already see you as one. It’s been that way for a while, actually”, Chris could’ve sworn he heard your heart start beating a bit faster after he said that, and in turn his heart started to beat faster in his chest.

“Oh?” You pulled away from his neck, finding his gaze, looking him straight in the eyes. “So I’m under the big bad wolf’s protection, huh?” 

Chris huffed out an incredulous laugh, amused by your choice of words, but he couldn’t help himself when the following words came out of his mouth. “Well, I’m not doing a good job at that, am I?”

You frowned. Smooth it out. Make her smile, his instincts told him, once again pushing to the front of his mind those impulses he so desperately tried to ignore. 

“What do you mean by that?”

“Well, I mean…” Chris suddenly couldn’t hold your gaze, but the way his eyes decided to focus on your mouth were certainly not making it any easier. Plump, soft, kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss–stop. Focus… “The day you left, on the stairs… I hurt you. I didn’t mean to, and I shouldn’t have. I’m incredibly sorry”. 

You went quiet for a moment, your eyes flickering between his, looking at him so intensely Chris could feel heat start to creep on the back of his neck, suddenly aware of how close you were. Finally, you inhaled sharply. 

“I forgive you”.

Chris blinked, and his brows furrowed. “But–” 

“What do you mean ‘but’?” You chuckled, untangling your arms away from his neck to cradle his face in your hands instead. “You apologised, and I accept your apology. Honestly, it was barely anything. I… Understand what you were trying to do. In the four months I’ve been living here you have never hurt me, not even made me feel uncomfortable, Chris. This is all insane, completely nuts, and I’m warning you right now, I’m gonna be super annoying about it, but I trust you. All of you. But you especially”. 

At that moment, Chris pulled himself away from you entirely, hopefully before you noticed how quickly his cheeks were flushing, making his way into the living room and rambling on about how you could ask him anything you wanted and offering you dinner from what he had prepared that night for himself.

It seemed like you took a lot of interest in their condition after that. 

‘So that’s why you’re so warm?’

‘That’s why y’all leave once a month? To run under the full moon, seriously?’

‘Can you eat chocolate?’ 

‘Would you show me your wolf form?’ 

‘What’s a knot?’

You were really curious, maybe a bit too much. Chris was more than happy to answer your questions, but when you started to ask about mating, and knots, and ruts, and heats, he’d admit he got a little flustered–maybe embarrassingly so. Mostly because, whenever you so much as mentioned anything that got too into the topic of sex, he’d just get waves and waves of improper thoughts. He’d wonder too much, he’d start getting worked up as if he was a fucking teenager who’d never touched a person in his life, so he tried to avoid those questions whenever he could.

The rest of the pack welcomed you back with open arms. They liked you before, but now that you knew their secret, it was almost as if something flipped in the way they interacted with you.

The first time one of them called you ‘mum’, Chris almost dug himself a Christopher-sized hole and buried himself alive. It was Seungmin who started the entire thing, because of course it was, Seungmin loved to see him struggle the most, clearly. And when you asked Chris about it, he simply told you the rest of the pack started to see you as a person they could lean on–which was half of the truth, he would’ve been caught dead before admitting to you that they were rubbing in his face how absolutely smitten he was.

He knew it before, of course. How he felt. Even if he tried to ignore it, if he tried to pretend it was all an instinctual thing because he had a pretty girl living with him, there was no way he could lie to himself for much longer. The moment you found out of their lycanthropy and you decided to stay and help, instead of running away in fear, he just couldn’t deny it any longer.

Sometimes, it felt as if the universe had taken all these qualities he could’ve ever needed in his life, all these qualities he hadn’t even realised he yearned for, and put them all in a person, put them all in you and threw you at his doorstep in a pretty sundress, as if to say ‘here, this is the one. Good fucking luck’. Honestly, in retrospect, Chris stood no chance. There was no way he wouldn’t have developed feelings for you.

Regardless of how he felt, he tried his best to be respectful, to not make you uncomfortable in any way. He really did try his best, but by heaven and hell if there weren’t moments where he almost risked it all…

Chris could still remember the first time he saw you wearing a pair of leggings. The stretchy material hugged your lower limbs so perfectly it didn’t exactly leave much to the imagination… The sight of the fabric stretched over your perfectly round bottom and your big thighs almost broke down all those protective walls he had decided to put between you and him–especially when the very first thought he had as soon as he saw you on them was to bend you over the kitchen counter, rip the thing to pieces, and dive face first into your cunt from behind.

He couldn’t help but feel guilty every time he had those thoughts about you. In his mind, you just didn’t deserve that, for some horny creep to be secretly looking at you and thinking all these lewd, dirty things about you, but the more time passed, the more he got to know you, those thoughts became more and more frequent. And the most painful part of it all wasn’t just the undeniable sexual aspect of it all.

Chris often wanted to talk to you about anything and everything, to hold you, kiss you, feed you, cuddle you, just overall take care of you, and that feeling only intensified as soon as you started to take care of his packmates, as soon as you inadvertently fell fully into the position of pack parent right next to him for real. Sure, the rest of the pack members looked up to you to some degree, and they often called you mum to tease him, but he hadn’t truly grasped the extent of it all.

Chris hadn’t noticed that was what was happening at first, but one day, he saw as you took care of a sick Seungmin so attentively it just hit him like a ton of bricks.

You were so perfect for that role in his pack, and the fact that you were doing all those things, without even being romantically involved with him made him feel both warm with love and pained with longing. He knew then that you were supposed to be there next to him, with him, but that was something he couldn’t push on you, not when it didn’t seem like you were feeling the same things towards him in the slightest.

Or at least, that was what Chris tried to tell himself, to delude himself into not overstepping those boundaries between you two. The reality was that, sometimes, Chris thought he might’ve had a chance.

Times when he hugged you tight and he could hear your heartbeat pick up its pace, or when you sent him silly memes that you thought he’d find funny, or times when you teased him, almost, almost as if you were flirting with him, or whenever you took interest in his lycanthropy, or…

He often recalled very fondly how you would snuggle into him whenever you fell asleep on the sofa while watching a movie with him. It didn’t happen often, but when it did, he’d wake up with you in his arms, with your head tucked under his chin. Those times, he’d always pretend to be asleep for as long as he could, selfishly enjoying your warmth until you eventually woke up, gave him a kiss on the cheek with a racing heart, and mumbled sleepy apologies before retreating to your room. He’d tried to convince himself that you possibly feeling the same way was all wishful thinking, so he never truly entertained those thoughts.

Even then, there were things he just couldn’t stop himself from doing. At some point, scenting your clothes just wasn’t enough for him, so he started lending you articles of clothing of his–hoodies, mostly. He would’ve loved to see you wearing his t-shirts, or his bathrobe, but hoodies were a good enough compromise in his mind. He’d always give them to you whenever you showed any sign of feeling even remotely chilly, and he soon realised that that need of having you wrapped in his scent only grew bigger the closer his rut was.

The first rut Chris went into after you moved in was, quite honestly, insane. He was able to recognise the signs early enough to leave the flat he shared with you and stay at one of the vacant ones in the building, and when it finally hit him, it hit him hard. He didn’t think he’d had such a painful rut in his life–aside from the first one, which to this day he was sure was the perfect representation of what being in hell would feel like. 

Logically, he could’ve asked a friend to help him out. It was always best to deal with these things with another person there, but, somehow, the mere thought of being with someone like that after he realised his feelings for you was… Really unpleasant, so he decided to bear it on his own.

During that rut, all his inner wolf wanted was to have you. Your scent plagued his mind, the mental image of you and your thighs and your soft body had him with his fist around his cock the entire time, but it was never enough. He yearned to pleasure you, to taste you, to make you come undone for him as many times as he could, to have you in every possible way he could, to pump you full of his cum and breed you, and the fact that he couldn’t do that had him in both physical and emotional pain.

The worst part was that Chris felt like shit not only because whenever he was able to orgasm it didn’t seem to quench his desires a single bit, but also because he was thinking of you in such a way again. At the time, he was so desperate he could hardly think about it, but as soon as his rut subsided he had this immense guilt plaguing him. So much so he wasn’t able to look you in the eyes for a week straight after, so he swore he would try his best to never break your trust like that ever again.

And for a handful of months, it worked. He’d still share his hoodies with you, still have the need to hug you, and touch you, and take care of you, but whenever his mind drifted too much he’d give himself a reality check. She’s your roommate. Your friend. You’re more than just a horny dog, Christopher, he’d berate himself often, keeping his distance however he could.

It was hard sometimes, though. You’d taken this habit of looking him in the eyes… You used to do it before, too, but somehow it seemed different lately. Your gaze would linger on his for a few seconds longer than usual, enough to trigger his primal instincts, to make him want to assert his dominance–normally, that’d mean he’d want to physically fight for it, but with you, the only way his body wanted to assert his dominance was by bending you over and fucking you stupid, which didn’t help his case one bit.

It was incredibly silly of him to think that way whenever you looked him in the eyes for too long, considering that, even if you could, he just knew there was no way you’d challenge him for his position in the pack. So he’d always talk himself down of his instinctual reaction, reminding himself of who you were, of how he couldn’t let himself hurt you, or cross your boundaries in any way.

But his resolve crumbled a little over a year after you moved in, when Chris saw your freshly washed clothes messily sprawled on your bed while you were ovulating, almost as if you had prepared a pretty little nest for him to breed you in. That, coupled with the fact that you were wearing his clothes at the same time, triggered his already upcoming rut right then and there.

His mind clouded quickly, your floral scent filled every single crevice within him, making his alpha instincts kick in. Pleasure, dominate, breed, breed, breed… The words resonated repeatedly within him as he struggled to keep it together, to not jump you on the spot and do something he would regret, to not hurt you.

When he desperately tried to leave the flat, you just wouldn’t let him, you were clearly worried about him, and if there was one thing Chris had learnt about you was that it wasn’t in your nature to just ignore a friend in need. But God, you just smelt so good… It was getting increasingly harder to not act on his impulses. 

You kept looking him in the eyes, and it wasn’t making it any easier, not when his instincts wouldn’t just shut the fuck up. Show her. Make her submit. Dominate, dominate, dominate…

‘Go lock yourself in your fucking room while I can still think and hold back’, he held to his last shred of sanity until the very last second, all while his humanity and his inner wolf fought for dominance over his actions during the entire interaction.

What he hadn’t expected, though, was for you to return his feelings, for you to want him. ‘What if I don’t want you to hold back?’ 

In a second, as soon as the words left your mouth, he finally let himself see, hear, and smell all the signs. Your flushed face, your heart thumping aggressively in your chest, the smell of your arousal lingering in the air… He simply snapped. The second you gave him your consent and he finally got a taste of you, Chris knew there was no going back for him. He was in deep.

He wouldn’t be able to get over the feeling of your lips on his, the sounds that came out of your mouth whenever he touched you, the smell of your scent laced with so much lust he was almost vibrating with excitement at the prospect of all the things he could do to you, of how good he’d make you feel.

‘Wanna be mine? Just say it, love, and I’ll make you mine. All mine’.

Claim, claim, claim… No, no claiming, Christopher. Too soon, too soon, that’s not what she needs right now…

‘Wanna be yours… Wanted to for so long, too’.

For so long, for so long, for so long… She’s mine, mine, mine, all for me…

Finally, Chris was able to let go of his inhibitions and fulfil all those desires and needs he’d had for the longest time. Not only was he able to quench his thirst with your essence on his tongue, or release all that tension that kept on building within him with the intoxicating feel of the soft skin of your inner thighs and the velvety walls of your cunt wrapped around his cock, but also he made you feel so much pleasure you were barely even able to talk and walk after he did. That simple fact had his chest swelling with pride, had him going through so many waves of his rut that by the fourth day of fucking you nonstop he could barely stand the tiniest movement around his cock.

Chris was being driven by both his emotional and physical needs the entire time, driven by his instincts to fulfil both his and your desires, but by the fourth night of his rut he had regained some of his human clarity back. It was just as you two were having a bath, as you took care of him, washing his hair–something no one had ever come remotely close to doing after he became an adult–that he came to a very important realisation.

Not only had you taken the time to understand him and the role he had within his pack, you’d taken the time to understand each and every single member in it, you supported them all in every way you could, and even though you were human, your body was able to take Chris in his most animalistic state. So it was right then, right as he looked at the soft, focused features of your face when you massaged his scalp, that he realised that the universe had really made you all for him, perfect just for him.

He’d said this to you time and time again throughout his rut, because it just felt right to say them, but only then did he realise how true it all was.

It wasn’t unheard of. It happened often in werewolves. Not to every single one, but it was often enough that he was able to connect the dots. It was said that there would always be someone out there that would be able to strengthen those areas a wolf might be lacking in. And for Chris, that someone was you. 

Even when he woke up the next day, with his mind finally clear of his more animalistic impulses and desires, he knew that to be the truth.

It was a lot to take in, and if it was a lot for him who had been labelled Mr Intense several times throughout his life by both friends and partners, he was sure it would’ve been a lot for you, too. So he decided to file this for later, for it to be discussed when the time was right.

As it was now, he felt as if everything had been done backwards, so he had to start settling the foundations of a possible relationship with you–sure, you’d let him fuck you silly for four days straight, but what if you had been influenced by his pheromones? What if you realised you didn’t want him like that? That it’d be too much?

So he asked you out on a date, he wanted to take you to the seasonal fair, and to his delight–and maybe relief…–you accepted. It was almost comical how fast his heart would beat whenever you got close to him during that date, especially so considering he had already told you so many filthy, intimate things during his rut, but as you tugged him along to rides and games and food stalls, it all felt different to him somehow. More meaningful, perhaps.

That evening, when you were both walking back home, as Chris held your hand tightly in his, right under the seasonal lights that had been placed above the road, he just couldn’t help himself when he cradled your face and kissed you. A slow, sensual kiss that had his heart doing flips in his chest, and he simply revelled in the way you moved closer to him, in the way you held his coat tightly in your hands, in the way your lips moved against his.

A motion so natural he just couldn’t believe he hadn’t been doing this since the day he met you. When he pulled back, he asked you to be his girlfriend, and the moment you said yes, his heart soared, and he couldn’t help but feel incredibly giddy.

Now, Chris could hold you as much as he wanted, touch you as much as he wanted, he could tell you everything without having to measure his words, and he was so, so ready to enjoy every second of it. To enjoy every single second he’d spend with you–even more than he did before.

You were still sleeping in your bedroom, or at least, you did for the first few days after your date. That was fine by Chris, he had been making up for the lost time at work because of the ‘unexpected sick leave’ he had to take during his rut, so he was coming home late at night, barely even seeing your pretty face before he took a shower and dropped dead on his bed until the next day. It was best for you to sleep on your own so he wouldn’t disturb you. That was Chris’ reasoning.

At least, until tonight.

“Hey”, your voice made him look away from his phone and over his shoulder, finding you peeking your head from behind the door with a shy smile on your lips.

“Why are you up? You should be sleeping, love”, Chris turned, lying on his back and fixing his eyes on you.

“I missed you”, you replied simply, making your way into the room, your words effectively bringing heat to the back of his neck.

Chris let out a content sigh, watching you get on his bed and finally straddle his hips. His hands settled on your thighs, rubbing up and down in soothing motions. If only it weren’t so cold so you weren’t wearing these pyjama bottoms… They were cute, fluffy, with doughnuts printed all over them, but he selfishly wished he could feel your skin under his hands.

“Missed you, too. So much”.

You leaned into him, resting your entire body weight on him to press a kiss to his lips. Chris could definitely get used to this. To the feeling of you pressed against him, even with the duvet separating your bodies, he just loved feeling you close, especially when you kissed him so softly, so… Lovingly.

You’d been his girlfriend for a total of three days, it had been almost an entire week since the end of his rut, and you two hadn’t had sex since then. You’d told him you needed some time to recover, which was perfectly fine. Chris himself felt like he needed a short break as well, after all, getting back into his normal rhythm after a rut was always a process.

Besides that, though, your comfort was always his first priority, it had always been that way, but even more so now. He wanted to wait until you felt fine, until you were ready for it again. 

Although, he’d admit it wasn’t particularly easy. Not when you looked Like That all the time and he just wanted to sink his teeth on your soft flesh any time he got the tiniest glimpse of your skin. 

Sure, he was no longer in a rut, he was a coherent man, with coherent thoughts, completely capable of simply enjoying your presence without escalating any further than a hug or a kiss. But tonight, as his tongue made its way into your mouth, as your hips rolled against him, as his hands started to roam your back, only to settle on your rear to fondle the supple flesh, Chris was truly starting to feel ravenous, desperate to feel you, desperate to make you feel incredibly good.

“Chris, baby…” you mumbled against his lips, resuming your motions immediately after the words left your mouth, pressing pecks on his lips. 

“Hm?” Chris took your bottom lip between his teeth, tugging gently, gripping your buttcheeks tighter, and the whimper that came out of your mouth almost, almost made him lightheaded with how fast blood rushed to his cock. 

“Want you…”

Chris’ eyes snapped open, and he pulled away from you to look you in the eyes, finding your blown pupils and flushed cheeks. Beautiful, gorgeous, pretty… Swallowing, he brought a hand to your cheek, softly dragging his thumb over your skin. “Pretty… You sure? Are you feeling okay?”

“Mm”, with a hard roll of your hips to emphasise your statement, you pressed a brief kiss on his lips. “Positive. I’ve almost forgotten how you feel like inside me, baby. That’s a crime”.

Chris huffed an incredulous chuckle. “So soon? Damn, must’ve not fucked you enough, then”.

“Oh, you fucked me plenty. I just want more”, a grin spread on your lips, looking utterly shameless, and Chris would lie if he said it didn’t excite him.

“Greedy, huh?” 

Before you could even attempt to bite back, Chris rolled to the side, taking you with him, effectively wrapping you in the duvet, like the most adorable burrito, and trapping you under him, eliciting a yelp from your lips with the movement.

“Not fair”, God, you shouldn’t be allowed to pout, it disarmed him way too quickly. Chris couldn’t help but peck your lips, as many times as necessary, until you started giggling.

“What? My pretty baby wants to be on top?” Chris placed a kiss on your cheekbone. Your skin was warm, soft, you smelt like your moisturiser and your floral scent, and he just absolutely loved it.

“Maybe”, you mumbled, sounding more distracted now that Chris’ lips had descended to your neck, now that he was kissing and nibbling your skin.

Your hands roamed his back, making him shiver, especially so when you dragged your fingers down his spine, finally reaching his bum, and confidently squeezing. “Why are you naked?” You chuckled, clearly amused, and Chris settled his weight on his elbows so he could look at your face better.

“I was already ready to sleep, baby. You know I sleep naked”.

“You do?” You laughed, and it made him smile. “I thought the kids were saying that just to mess with you”.

“Oh, they were messing with me”, Chris chuckled. “But they weren’t lying”.

“So… If we start sleeping together, you’d sleep naked, too?” You squeezed his buttcheek again, a bit harder this time. It was barely anything, but it was working him up way more than it should have, for sure. Chris was already hard and leaking just by your presence, by your warmth and your kisses, but even then the simple implication that you wanted to share a bed with him every night had his heart doing flips in his chest, had his cock twitching with need.

“Would you mind?” He pulled away from you enough to untangle the duvet away from your body. As soon as you were released, he tugged on your pyjama top, and you let him get it off of you immediately.

“Not one bit”, was all you replied, and Chris gave you a hum of acknowledgement just as he tugged your bottoms off.

He got, admittedly, a bit distracted. Of course you wouldn’t be wearing any underwear under your pyjamas, you were ready for bed already, but it still caught him off guard.

The marks he’d left on your body during his rut were starting to fade, and all he wanted right now was to mark you all over again. Did he have a problem? Maybe he did. As his hands made their way to cup your tits, squeezing them briefly only to finally settle on playing with your nipples, the sounds that were coming out of your mouth made it incredibly hard for him to care.

“How’re you this pretty, huh?” While Chris kept softly rolling your nipples between his fingers, your hands came to hold his wrists, gently rubbing his skin with your thumbs as you arched your back, moaning oh, so sweetly for him.

“Chris, babe…” Your hold on his wrists tightened, shifting Chris’ attention from your breasts to your eyes again. The smell of your arousal had him literally salivating, had him feeling like a hungry dog, ready to devour you whole, and when you dropped the most desperate ‘kiss me’ he couldn’t help but do just that, removing his hands from your chest to hug you close.

You whined as soon as his lips landed on yours, moulding to yours time and time again, eventually pushing his tongue inside your mouth, savouring you, swallowing every sigh and every whimper that fell from your lips. He kissed you for a while, enjoying the feeling of you holding him tightly, enjoying the way your heartbeat kept picking up its pace, until the slow, deep kisses turned messier, more eager, until he couldn’t ignore just how badly he wanted to have a taste of you.

As he started his descent down your torso, kissing your clavicle, your chest, sucking your nipple into his mouth to play with the hardened bud for a bit with his tongue, he couldn’t help his hands from roaming your body. Your thighs, your hips, your sides, anywhere he could reach.

His fingers sunk on your flesh, eliciting quiet whimpers from your mouth, just as he kept licking the pebbled skin of your nipples and your hardened buds. Chris just really couldn’t help himself from kneading and squeezing your skin, tracing every dip, every roll, every curve, until his mouth finally resumed its path further down your body.

“Baby…” You mumbled once Chris’ mouth attached to your lower belly, nipping and kissing and sucking on your skin, making you squirm.

“Hm?” Chris would admit he was only partially listening, there was not much coherent thinking going on in his brain at that moment, all he could think about was you, you, you, and your soft skin, and your floral scent, and how it was all heavily tinted with lust.

You didn’t say anything, though, you simply inhaled a shaky breath once Chris’ attention was shifting again, from your lower belly to your mound, and finally, bringing his forearms under your thighs, he pushed them towards your chest, attaching his mouth to your skin so he could repaint all those marks that had started to fade.

He vaguely registered the words ‘such delicious thighs, fuck…’ coming out of his mouth, just as he vaguely registered the whimper you gave him in response. He repeated his motions until he was satisfied with the amount of freshly made love bites on your thighs, finally directing his attention to your dripping heat.

Chris truly was just a simple man.

A simple man with simple needs.

Sinking his fingers in the soft skin of your thighs, keeping you spread open for him, he finally dived, licking a slow, fat stripe from your entrance to your clit, all but moaning at your taste on his tongue, brows pulled together in bliss.

Chris got comfortable, laying on his stomach, and slurping you up. The moans and whines and whimpers that came out of your mouth with each and every single one of his movements, the way your fingers threaded through his hair, the way your hand pushed on his head to get him impossibly closer to you, only encouraged him more. Your free hand came to rest on one of his, and he wasted no time letting go of your thigh to hold your hand instead, linking his fingers with yours, relishing the warmth of your palm against his.

“Oh, fuck…” Your legs started to tremble as soon as he eased two fingers into you, and his mind raced with the feel of your heat wrapped around his digits. So warm, soft… He wasn’t sure if the words actually left his mouth or if it was just his instincts taking a hold of his mind, but he honestly didn’t care, either. 

As he started to add more and more fingers, until he was stretching you open as much as he could, your thighs clamped around his head, and Chris truly, truly couldn’t contain the literal animalistic growl that came out of his mouth, muffling against your skin as he diligently sucked your clit into his mouth and licked it with his tongue.

Letting go of your hand to grip your outer thigh, he simply encouraged you to keep that position, to borderline suffocate him with your legs, and honestly for all he cared he could’ve died right then and there, choked by the most delicious thighs he’d ever had the pleasure of touching, of kissing, of fucking–

Shit, he wanted to fuck your thighs. Would you ever let him do that again? Between the feeling of your walls around his fingers, your taste on his tongue, the sinful sounds coming out of your mouth, and the mere thought of fucking your thighs again, he could feel himself start to leak even more fluids, surely soiling his bedsheets–not like he cared much about it, to be honest.

Chris decided to ignore that thought altogether. He didn’t want to ruin the mood by bringing that up, not right now. So he shifted his focus back into the now, back to your hand tugging his hair and his fingers in your cunt and his mouth on your clit.

For a split second, he wondered if he should stop, if he should slow down to prolong this further, to eventually build you up once again and enhance your impending release. He’d been the one teasing you about it earlier, but the truth was, tonight, he was the greedy one, desperate to bring you unadulterated pleasure, so he didn’t stop.

Instead, he just sped up his fingers, thrusting harder, curling them up against that sweet spot within your walls in the exact way he’d learnt would have you curling your toes and flexing your thighs. He sucked harder, licked harder, revelling in the cries coming out of your mouth, revelling in the feel of you, all soft and warm and his.

When you came, moaning his name like the sweetest song he’d ever heard, Chris’ thoughts hazed, feeling your walls clenching repeatedly around his fingers, feeling your thighs twitching slightly around his head. And the moment you tried to pull yourself away from him, he just didn’t budge, bringing his hand from where it had been gripping your thigh to your hip, holding you tight and pinning you in place.

“Oh, fuck… Fuck, fuck, Chris, you–Shit–” Whatever it was you were trying to tell him got caught in your throat, all words replaced by broken moans and whines, which only fueled that determination that had quickly built within him. Pleasure, pleasure, pleasure, pleasure…

Chris didn’t relent until you were shaking with a consecutive high, until you tugged on his hair and begged with a breathless ‘Shit, Chris, darling, can’t handle it anymore, please…’ effectively snapping him out of it. Pulling on your thighs to get you to release your hold on him, and kissing his way up your body, Chris’ lips finally found your face, kissing away the salty tears that had run down your cheeks, only to finally find your mouth and kiss you deeply.

You let out the dreamiest sigh of relief when he kissed you, making him hum against your mouth, and as you hugged him close to you, tightly, bare chest against bare chest, his heart felt as if it was ready to burst at the seams.

“Fuck, love, you okay?” Chris wanted to check, to make sure his greediness didn’t get the best of him, and when you nodded enthusiastically, finding his lips and kissing him again, that minimal worry in his mind dissipated instantly.

“No business being that good with your mouth, fuck”, you mumbled against his lips, making him chuckle, just as you wrapped your legs around his torso, pulling him closer.

“Got a bit carried away… I can tone it down next time, if that’s what you want”, he teased you a bit with a grin on his lips, just as he held the base of his length and guided it to your entrance.

“Don’t you dare”, you replied almost immediately, pressing another loud kiss on his lips. “Want you just as you are. You always make me feel so good, baby…”

Chris hummed, content, keeping himself propped up on one elbow, kissing you as he dragged his tip up and down your folds, getting drenched in your slick. He was fully intending on not fucking you yet, on giving you time to catch your breath, he truly just wanted to feel your wetness against his cock, but when you noticed what he was doing, and urged him with a ‘if you don’t get inside of me right now I’ll cry for real, baby, please’, he simply couldn’t deny you.

Heaven, heaven, heaven, heaven, warm, warm, warm… “Fuck, it really hasn’t been that long, but I missed being inside you”, Chris couldn’t help but mumble against the skin of your neck once he bottomed out, relishing the way your walls just hugged him so perfectly, relishing how warm and snug it felt.

“Me too, baby”, you chuckled softly, threading your fingers through his hair, mindlessly playing with it. 

Keeping himself propped up enough, and once his other hand found yours, linking your fingers together, Chris finally started to move. He started slow, savouring every drag of his cock against your heat just as he kept kissing you, swallowing your quiet moans.

Burying his face in the crook of your neck, he pressed slow, wet kisses on the sensitive skin of your neck, making you squirm in his hold, and the whines that came out of your mouth as you bared your neck for him had his pace picking up just the tiniest bit, had his instincts kicking in and his lips sucking purple splotches on your skin. Mark, mark, mark, mark…

It truly hadn’t been that long, but now that he was able to feel you like this again, Chris realised he had missed it more than he thought. How could he not, when you were so warm, so soft, and just so, so perfect for him in every way, and as he whispered these things in your ear, all while bringing his hands under you, one holding your shoulder, and the other holding one of your buttcheeks to keep you from sliding away from him with his movements, there was absolutely no doubt in his mind that that was the absolute, irrevocable truth. 

“All yours, Chris”, you mumbled back to him, rolling your hips to meet his thrusts, the reassurance alone sending sparks of pleasure up and down his spine, and when you added a “just like you’re all mine, too”, emphasised with a tug on his hair, he just couldn’t hold back the sounds that were coming out of his mouth, nor the rumbling that started to resonate from deep within him. Which, had he not been absolutely drunk on your presence, would’ve puzzled him, and maybe embarrass him a bit.

It wasn’t that common for alphas to rumble outside of their rut, and Chris was no exception to this. He could probably count with one hand the times he had rumbled after puberty. But as he continued to pleasure you, to indulge in your body, he realised his quiet, slow, almost involuntary rumble was just another sign. Another sign that he was all yours, you were all his, and nothing had ever made more sense to him in this life than those two facts.

Holding you tightly, he rolled to the side, bringing you with him so you could sit on him, making you gasp with the change in angle once he was buried within your walls again.

“C’mon, pretty… Didn’t you want to be on top? Ride me”, he mumbled against the skin of your neck, sinking his fingers on the swell of your hips. “Ride me like you mean it, love. Show me how much you wanted it”.

And you did. He attached his mouth to your chest, determined to leave as many love bites as he could like he did with your thighs, just as he could feel his body burn from the inside out while you bounced on his cock. Mine, mine, mine, mine…. 

Time slipped between his fingers, his mind and body lost completely on you, just like you got lost on him, exploring one another until you came once more, until you eventually got off his lap, took him between your lips and made him come in your mouth. When he borderline begged you to open up and show him, he was sure the sight of his cum pooled in your mouth would be ingrained in his brain forever, and when he asked you to swallow and you did, showing him your clean tongue right after, he couldn’t help but feel tingly all over, so incredibly enraptured by you, and your mouth, and your body, and your mind, and your absolutely everything.

After a quick clean up and more kisses and more caring words, Chris simply hugged you close under the covers, burying his face in the crook of your neck as your fingers buried in his curls and massaged his scalp softly. The sound of your heartbeat under his ear was lulling him to sleep, and when you held him even tighter against your body and he started to rumble again, he simply didn’t question it, too tired and sleepy and in love to care at all once he finally fell asleep that night.

Starting a romantic relationship with you meant that there were hardly any reservations in this flat anymore. Chris would walk around almost naked most of the time, wearing nothing but comfortable, loose fitting pyjama shorts, just as you’d do the same. Walking around topless or wearing only your underwear under one of his oversized tees, and honestly Chris was having the time of his life seeing so much of your body all the time he had to make a conscious effort to not have his hands on you all the time–he failed miserably every time, but by the heavens he was trying.

You both had decided to keep Chris’ bedroom as your shared room, whereas your room would become a study of sorts for both, since you kindly requested ‘no work in the bedroom, darling, please’, which was perfectly reasonable. 

The dynamic within the pack didn’t change at all, you were already doing all the things the partner of a pack’s alpha would typically do before you got together, so the only minor difference now was that you and Chris would often engage in very shameless public displays of affection, eliciting a groan or two from the younger members of the pack. They’d have to endure it, because Chris had no plans to stop any time soon. And he was very unapologetic about it.

Others, though, started airing his dirty laundry to you. ‘I wish you could’ve heard how fast his heart would beat when you got close to him before. How flustered he got…’ Seungmin just wouldn’t shut up about it, and even though you were his girlfriend now and all his prior struggles were something you were very aware of, Chris still threatened to smack him with a slipper if he kept talking to you about it–a completely empty threat, but it did slow down his jabs a bit.

By the two month mark Chris was one hundred percent sure he’d never felt this good in a relationship before, and if these couple of months were an omen of how the rest of his life would be, he was more than ready for it. 

“Baby, no offence, but no wonder you had to get a roommate”, you chuckled, mindlessly playing with his hair.

Chris laid on his back with his head between your legs, your tummy posing as the softest pillow he’d ever used. Your legs draped over his shoulders, caging his head between them while he played on his phone. It was a common position for Chris and you to ‘cuddle’ at this point, just laying together on the sofa as both of you took some time to unwind from the long day, scrolling on your phones, watching TV, or engaging in conversation.

“What’d you find?” Chris mindlessly caressed the skin of your outer thigh, squeezing the flesh here and there whenever he felt like it.

A few days ago, you had offered to help organise the finances of the pack, and today Chris was finally able to send you all the documents he could find related to everyone’s income and expenses. He’d been taking care of it on his own, but he found the task to be incredibly annoying and sometimes even confusing, so he’d be the first to admit he wasn’t doing as well as he could’ve with it… Especially with his own finances.

“Well, the kids seem to be taking care of their expenses well enough… They could probably cut down on some extras if they want to have some extra money…” Chris was trying his best to listen, he really was, but he started to zone out almost immediately, distracted by the warmth of your thighs around his head.

He squeezed your thigh, inhaling sharply, getting almost overwhelmed by your scent. “But you…” His ears perked up, focusing on what you were telling him. “Do you even know you are being billed for all these things? What do you even need a scooter insurance for?”

“I’m still paying for that insurance?!”

“Mhm, look”, you handed him your phone. Chris looked at the numbers on the screen, incredulous, and slightly annoyed with himself for forgetting about these things. “Do you even have a scooter?”

“Sold it ages ago, before I even got the car”, he scoffed, handing you your phone back. “Guess it just… Slipped my mind to cancel that thing”.

“There are more like these, y’know?” You chuckled, gently tugging on his hair. “You reckless wolf, what am I gonna do with you?”

Chris simply chuckled in response, turning his head a bit to place a kiss on your inner thigh as you continued to list things he had completely forgotten about. It took you both a while to go through everything, by the time you were done, he had pulled himself from between your legs, deciding to instead sit with his back against the backrest, spreading his legs as much as he wanted, with your legs laying over his.

There was some film playing on the TV. Chris tried to keep his eyes glued to it, but in all honesty, he wasn’t watching any of it, he didn’t even know which film it was.

The way you were laying on the sofa with your legs on his lap made it so the t-shirt you were wearing rode up almost completely, leaving your thighs on full display for Chris to touch and stare at. It was nothing unusual or particularly revealing, but he’d spent the past hour just squeezing and massaging your thighs, and the motions were getting him really worked up. Maybe embarrassingly so.

Even if he’d fucked you silly and seen you naked a thousand times already, he was somehow especially affected today. Maybe it was the fact that you hadn’t had sex in a few days–which was fine, contrary to what the rest teased Chris for, you two didn’t fuck every single day. Several times a week? Yes. But not every day. Mostly because either one of you would be too exhausted due to your jobs or your studies or whatever situation you both were going through that week.

Chris had caught himself thinking about your thighs a lot lately. Whenever you sat on his lap, or when you draped your legs over him when you slept, he just couldn’t help but look at them, to touch them. It had gotten to the point where, whenever your schedules got busy and you couldn’t get intimate for one reason or the other, he’d found himself wanking one off thinking maybe bit too much about your thighs. Touching them, kissing them, sucking on them, fucking them…

“Baby…” He squeezed your thigh lightly, keeping his eyes focused on the way the skin dipped under his hold. “If I tell you something… Something slightly embarrassing… Would you judge me?”

You turned away from your phone to look at him. “Never, babe. What’s bothering you?”

Chris swallowed the saliva he hadn’t even realised had pooled in his mouth, massaging your thighs a bit more firmly. “I… Really, really like your thighs…”

“I can tell”, you tucked your phone under the cushion you were using to prop yourself up, giving him your full attention. “That’s not embarrassing, though?”

“That’s not the embarrassing part…” Taking a deep breath, Chris licked his lips. He’d had a chub for a long while now, he’d been trying to ignore it, but the more he touched your bare skin, the more he just enjoyed the feeling of your soft flesh under his fingertips, he just couldn’t ignore it any longer. “I… Think about them often. Maybe too often. About how soft and squishy and big they are…”

“You do?” There was a bit of a teasing tone in your voice, but the way your heartbeat suddenly quickened was enough for Chris to know you weren’t teasing him because you found it particularly amusing, but just to get him even more worked up, to get him to react, and honestly he willingly fell for it, just like he did every single time.

“Mhm…” It wasn’t anything particularly new, not to him. The thighs… They’ve always been a part of a person’s body he’d tended to focus on, and the only time he tried to openly discuss it with someone in depth they looked at him like he was crazy, so he was embarrassed, and maybe a little apprehensive. But right now, he was just horny and in love and your thighs were just so soft, he just couldn’t contain the words from leaving his mouth. “Fuck, pretty, wanna fuck them so bad right now. Just… Really wanna come all over them…”

Chris had only ever fucked your thighs during his rut, he’d never brought that up into your day to day sexual activities. He was just convinced it wasn’t exactly common to have such cravings, considering he’d had partners tell him that before. Sure, you’d let him do it already when he was going through his rut, but there were a lot of pheromones and hormonal rushes involved back then, this was different. This was his completely coherent human self wanting to fuck a part of your body that wasn’t exactly common to want to fuck.

Licking your lips, and with a shaky intake of breath, you brought your hand to his, placing it there to bring his attention to your eyes. “Wanna do it now?”

There was no hint of judgement in your eyes, if anything Chris could see your pupils dilate, he could hear your heart beating faster in your chest, so he gave you an almost shy nod. “Do you, though?”

Your hold on his hand tightened a bit. “These are yours, Chris. I’m all yours”, your low tone, the desire coating your words, had him biting his lower lip and inhaling deeply, getting a whiff of your floral scent slightly tinted with lust, and it was honestly starting to cloud his mind a bit. “I don’t think it’s anything to be embarrassed about, baby. I actually think it’s quite hot… Makes me feel… Wanted. Is that how it is? Do you want me?”

“‘Course I do. Never not want you, pretty”, sneaking his hand between your thighs, Chris squeezed the tender flesh at the highest point, right where it met your core, making you almost squeal.

You stared back at him, in that way that almost made his alpha instincts kick in, in that way that made him want to make you submit to him in any way he could, but before Chris could say anything–or do anything–you spoke again. “Well… There’s massage oil in the coffee table…”

Of course there was massage oil in one of the drawers of the coffee table. You and Chris kept it there since before you got together, for times where the other felt their shoulders particularly stiff or for when any of the kids came over with the same problem. He’d lie if he said he never thought about… Using it in more inappropriate ways before, but it had been so long since you’d used it he had honestly forgotten about it.

With a chuckle, Chris shuffled a bit, careful not to let your legs fall out of his lap as he leaned forward to open the drawer and take out the bottle. Settling back on the sofa, as comfortable as he could, he instructed you, “scoot your legs back a bit, love. Need to take my shorts off”.

So you did, and once he found himself bare, he guided you towards him just as he slouched further into the sofa, bringing your legs back to his lap. Taking the bottle of oil, Chris took his time lathering your inner thighs with it, lightly massaging your flesh as he went, relishing the way your breathing was starting to get a bit more laboured with each drag of his hands on your skin, until finally, he soaked his cock, giving himself a couple of languid pumps.

Once Chris was content with how soaked you both were, he gave you the bottle so you could place it on the floor, just as he guided your legs to close around his length, and the sigh of relief that left his lips was honestly almost pathetic to his ears–not like he could care much about it when the most delicious thighs he’d ever seen were practically suffocating his cock.

“So good, fuck…” It wasn’t a particularly easy angle to do this in, but he was too far gone to care, so Chris simply angled his body towards you enough for both of you to be comfortable. Slowly, he started to thrust, his eyes focused on the sight of his tip popping out from between your legs, almost rubbing your core with each motion, feeling himself leak and almost drool as tiny sparks of pleasure started to travel down his spine. 

There was a voice at the back of his head telling him that he wasn’t taking care of your pleasure, that he was being too selfish by rutting himself between your thighs like this, but before he could even feel bad about it, Chris heard you whimper, and when his eyes snapped from the sight of his cock between your legs to your face, he couldn’t help but swallow. Your face was flushed, your lower lip trapped between your teeth, and your brows furrowed as you looked back at him.

“Is this how you wanted me, darling?” When the words left your mouth, almost breathless, Chris swallowed again, slowly nodding. Somehow, you looked like you were enjoying it as much as he did, and that realisation had him growing impossibly hard.

“Just like this, pretty… Seriously, these thighs of yours… They’re gonna be the death of me. So full and soft… So delicious…” Sliding one of his hands under your shirt, he found one of your breasts, kneading it and squeezing it for a bit only to finally pinch your nipple between his fingers in tandem with his cock pumping itself between your legs, relishing the soft moan that left your mouth when he did.

“Babe, I want you to… To enjoy yourself”, there was a pout on your lips, but Chris could feel your thighs twitch every time he rolled your nipple between his fingers, and he couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Oh, I am”, letting his head fall onto the backrest, Chris just looked at your face, at the way it scrunched up in pleasure and the way your eyelids fluttered shut with every movement of his, just as one of his hands kept working you up and the other held onto your thigh to keep you in place while he fucked himself between them. “You’re so fucking perfect, baby… Most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen…”

Chris had this habit of rambling and running his mouth when he was horny or when he was feeling vulnerable. He’d told you this before, so he was sure you weren’t surprised by the things that came out of his mouth when you had sex by now, but everything he said was something he truly believed, it wasn’t all just horny talk. His last statement was no exception. You were, truly, the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen, and he’d believed that since the very first day he saw you.

You just whimpered in response, clenching your thighs harder, making him groan with the motion. Pulling your tee further up your torso, you brought your hand to your other breast, kneading it and playing with your nipple as Chris kept stimulating the other, as he kept fucking your thighs, and honestly he didn’t know where to look–to your gorgeous, blissed out face, to your hand and his working your chest, or to where his cock popped out from between your legs… It was all so much, and so, so good, and he truly was almost drooling with the intensity of it all.

It went on like this for a while, until Chris felt his orgasm grow closer. He hazily reached a compromise with himself, to let himself come first, something he didn’t do often. He usually preferred to have you reach your climax and fuck your brains out while you were all sensitive and drenched and squirming, but he needed this, and boy if he was ready to make it up to you after.

With a few more thrusts, giving you a quick warning, and a garnish of your name coupled with a colourful assortment of swear words, Chris finally came. His cum quickly pooled on the valley created by your thighs and your core, soaking your underwear, a bit even landed on your lower belly, and truly, you were always beautiful, every day, in every way, but especially so when you were covered in his cum.

“Shit, look at that, huh…” Chris felt lightheaded, but that didn’t stop him from reaching out to your lower belly, spreading his cum around with two of his fingers, only to finally bring them to your mouth, and, just like you always did, your lips wrapped around his digits, licking them clean with a satisfied moan. “Like eating my cum, pretty baby? Looks like you do, you’re sucking so eagerly, hm?”

You nodded, finally opening your eyes and letting his fingers pop out of your mouth. “Love it. How could I not? When you always have so much for me?”

Chris couldn’t help but chuckle, ignoring the heat he felt spread on his face. “All for you, love… All of it. All of me”.

You chuckled, regarding him with a smile. “How’re we gonna get out of this one without staining the sofa?”

“Take off that t-shirt, let’s use that”.

After wiping you off with his tee, Chris pulled you into his lap, bringing you close to him with one hand caressing your thigh and the other cradling the back of your head, just as you settled your legs at either side of him and your hands on his chest. You kissed like this for a bit, until your lips wandered off, pressing a trail of kisses from his mouth to his neck.

When you pulled back from his neck, you looked at him with such adoring eyes Chris thought he was going to melt right then and there. “You really like my thighs, huh?” You looked down, to where he was tightly holding onto the supple flesh of your thigh, and Chris really couldn’t help the bashful smile that came to his face when you called him out on it.

“Just fucked them and came all over them, baby. Can’t hide it, I’m fucking obsessed with them”.

You just chuckled, pressing your bare chest as much as you could against his to hug him close, just as you placed a brief kiss to his lips. “I meant it earlier, babe. You can fuck them whenever you want. I like it when you do. It’s really hot”.

“Oh, pretty, love… I fucking will. Shit, how couldn’t I…” Inhaling deeply, Chris kissed you, maybe a bit too hard, a bit too eager, but he still revelled in your soft moans as he did.

Linking his arms under your ass to keep you secure in place, he stood up from the sofa, earning a surprised squeal from your lips that got lost in his mouth. He simply laid down on the sofa with you on top of him, giving you a tight squeeze on one of your buttcheeks. 

“Now, pretty baby…” He spoke between kisses, just as his hands roamed your body, squishing and kneading your soft flesh all over. “I need you to sit on my face. Want to make you feel good”.

You simply giggled in response, giving him one quick, loud kiss. “Someone’s hungry today”.

“For you? Always”, Chris chuckled. “Then, if you can still walk after, we can go stargazing tonight”, he added with a smile and a playful smack on your ass.

Chris was determined to show you just how hungry for you he was time and time again if necessary. How could he not be hungry for you? He’d realised that, for him, you embodied the very essentials of his pack. You embodied those things he so desperately wanted to have in his pack since he had decided to start one. Care, love, support, acceptance… 

Whether it be his and his friends’ lycanthropy or his kinks or his odd spending habits, you seemed to accept it all as part of him. He shouldn’t be surprised, really. He shouldn’t doubt it. After all, you were made for him, all for him, perfect just for him, and he was ready to enjoy it, to enjoy you and your company for as long as you’d let him.

Author’s Note x2: while i was writing this, i took some time to re-read It’s Cold Out again after a long time and holy shit. i hadn’t fully realised how much my writing has changed since then. to the point where to me it doesn’t feel like ICO was written by me anymore. it’s crazy lol. i’m happy i’ve gotten to expand on this AU, and i’m even happier that i get to share it with you all. if you’re reading this, thank you, you’re awesome

Tagging: @raspbinniecreme @staaa96 @oiminho @dundullresident @honey-lemon-goose @straylightdream @carefully325 @lavenderxkies @starshine-moon @biribarabiribbaem @meowmeowhoon @100layersofdaddyissues @dearalice @alexis-reads-fics @xcookiemonsteer @knowleeknow @chanlovesme @liminaldaydream @sstarryreads @svngiem @notastraykid @princelingperfect

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© therhythmafterthesummer 2023. all rights reserved. do not repost or translate my stories.

Constructive feedback (or even keysmashes, really) is always welcome :) feel free to leave your comments in the caption/tags when you reblog, or by sending me an ask !

Chris’ WereRoomies Instalments: It’s Cold Out · Rut · Alpha Dog · It’s Warm In · Love is Easy · Afraid to Lose You. For extra drabbles, check out the series masterlist.

[aroace-musings]

A Message to My Fellow Trans Peeps and Allies

I live in a swing state that voted red. I'm still in shock and disbelief. I can't believe that a convicted felon got elected for president. I can't believe that people would vote for a convicted felon in the first place. Trans people and women are worse off in this country than they were five years ago. It breaks my heart that instead of progressing, we're regressing. That instead of gaining freedoms, we are losing them.

Each year, the burden feels heavier, and the task seems more gargantuan. Constantly, we have to put up with those who use vitriolic language to tear asunder those they fear; those they’re unwilling to understand; those who challenge their worldview, their superiority, their narrow-mindedness. Political ads attack our dignity, our humanity, our right to exist. Talk show hosts bring on not trans people who know the lived experience, but bigoted individuals who sow fear about trans people into the minds of their listeners. This action breeds hostility and further endangers an already marginalized and vulnerable subsection of the population.

Despite this adversity, we must stand strong and carry on. We can't tremble in fear; we can't cower in a dark, dank corner; we can't keep our grievances locked tight within the cavity of our hearts, for if we do, then we give power and strength to the caustic, lethal words of the bigots and malcontents. Those who wish to eradicate us from existence.

We have people voluntarily leaving this world or getting murdered simply because they're trans for crying out loud. Wake up! Something needs to change.

We need to share our stories even if we only do so anonymously. We need to be visible, but only if it's safe to do so. The bigots have painted us to be some kind of hideous, grotesque monster, and we must slay that monster by any peaceful and nondestructive means necessary. *Show everyone that we are no more scarier than Grover from Sesame Street.

Even though the future looks bleak in this moment, I do believe deep down in my heart that eventually things will get better, that we will persevere, that we will gain federal rights and protection. We must have hope. If not for ourselves, then for the future generations of trans people.

Take care my fellow trans peeps. And know you're not alone. There's a whole community who would welcome you with open arms. 🫂

Well, that's all I have for today. Until next time, take care and stay curious.

*If you ever read The Monster at the End of This Book by Jon Stone, you'll get this reference.

[training4theapocalypse]

minors, people I know irl - DNI - this is fucked up

Yandere Billionaire Jeffrey Steinberg x fem reader

warnings: non-con, yandere, breeding, kidnapping, DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT

Deactivated

Rating: Explicit - 18+ only

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: SMUT, the most extreme non-con I have ever written, forced bondage, edging, forced orgasm, kidnapping, forced impregnation

Summary: When the apocalypse hit, you, Jeffrey Steinberg and eight of the world's other greatest minds were trapped in an underground ecosphere. This is an AU where the betas kill Nico and McKenna so Jeffrey hatches a plan to repopulate the world. (Full disclosure: That plan involves strapping you to a table and getting you pregnant.)

A/N: Genuinely might kink-shame myself into deleting this in the morning. Rape and forced pregnancy are incomprehensibly awful in the real world. This fic is intended to be an escapist fantasy. PS This is the only fic my partner has refused to proofread for me so apologies for typos.

Chapter text:

200 days.

200 days was all it took for the men of Evergreen to decide you were nothing more than vessels to be used to repopulate this hellhole of an underground ecosphere.

When they lined you up and began debating who belonged to whom, you and Ida took your chance to execute your hastily pulled-together plan.

Ida slipped a sickle she’d stolen from her agriculture station into a belt loop behind her back. You had pocketed a wrench from your mechanic’s workbench. You weren’t going down without a fight. 

When Jeffrey Steinberg looked you over, dictating your height, weight, blood type and other vital stats from Cortex’s electronic display, you took your chance and whacked him on the side of the head with the wrench. 

Then - chaos.

Ida grappled with David who caught her wrist as she slashed wildly with her sickle.

You were knocked off your feet and pinned to the ground.

Yelling.

Fighting.

You only remember Cortex being commanded to deactivate you before you were sucked into a black oblivion of nothingness. A door closing. More nothingness. The same door. Nothingness.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You wake up with a gasp - coughing, choking on air.

You’re in a hospital room. A brief glimmer of optimism that this was all just a coma-induced nightmare vanishes in an instant when with a sinking feeling of recognition, you realise you’re not just in any hospital - you’re in Evergreen’s hospital. David’s doctor’s office. This nightmare is real. And it’s only just beginning.

You’re in stirrups. Wearing a hospital gown. With your arms shackled above your head.

Oh, fuck.

You try to move your legs from the stirrups but they’re fastened tight. The handcuffs around your wrists only dig in when you try to slip your hands from them.

There’s an electronic beep and the door slides open.

Instinctively, you try to close your legs together. Preserve your last shred of dignity but your attempt is futile - the stirrups don’t move.

“Nice of you to join us,” says Jeffrey. Anger flares up in you when you see him. To think that you ever had even the tiniest romantic feelings towards such an awful human being. 

“Us?!” you ask shrilly, a fresh wave of panic sending a jolt of adrenaline through your veins.

He gives you a tight-lipped smile. “Just an expression.” Jeffrey presses a few buttons on the door panel, locking it behind him. “It’s only me.”

You should have guessed from the start that he’d be a monster. 

Nobody becomes a billionaire without stepping on a few toes or, indeed, crushing a few skulls. Everyone else here hated Jeffrey Steinberg from the outset. But you? At the start of all of this, you had actually liked him. The two of you had spent your spare hours flirting with each other. You were like two peas in a pod working to fix Cortex. Mechanic and Programmer. Hardware and Software. Yin and Yang. It only made the betrayal worse when, mere days after Nico and McKenna were both killed by Nico’s experiments on human cloning, Jeffrey had decided that you and the rest of the women were to be reduced to glorified incubators.

“Only you?” you spit. “For now, right? Whose turn is it next?”

He shakes his head and stands adjacent to you at the head of the bed. This small movement to respect what little dignity you have left doesn’t give you much comfort when you know what’s next. “It’s not like that,” says Jeffrey.

You laugh although there’s nothing funny about the situation you find yourself in. “What’s it like, then?”

“It’s just you and me. I chose you and that’s one of our rules - David, Axel and I’s rules, I mean.”

“So you care about rules now?” you ask. “What about laws?”

“I care about the rules I make because there are no laws.”

You scowl at him with all the hate you can muster. “Who undressed me? Who strapped me up like this while I was deactivated?”

“David. It was entirely clinical. He’s your doctor, after all.”

“And you believe that? I could be pregnant already. In fact, come to think of it - I do feel kind of nauseous,” you say looking at him in distaste. “Or maybe that’s just the effect of the present company.”

He smiles. A perfect, arrogant smile that reaches his green eyes. “See? This is why I like you. You always have so much fight.”

“Get me out of these handcuffs and you’ll really like me, you piece of shit,” you hiss, pulling at your restraints.

“I know you think you’re angry but this is humanity’s last chance for survival,” says Jeffrey, picking up the tablet with your vitals on it from your bedside table.

“Look at yourself. Humanity is already dead.”

“After the betas killed Nico and McKenna, this is the only way we can survive.”

“You’re a psychopath if you think living like this is better than dying.”

“It’s about more than just living. It’s about our entire species going extinct.”

You stare at each other in silence for a few moments. You absolutely hate that even under these circumstances, you find yourself blushing when he looks at you for too long.

“Fine. Go ahead with your turkey baster and get this over with,” you say, breaking eye contact with him and staring furiously ahead. 

“Now, where’s the fun in that?”

You hold your breath as Jeffrey puts the tablet down and walks to the bottom of the examination bed standing directly between your open legs. Something long and metallic glints in his hand and you attempt to shrink back.

“Safety scissors.” He holds them up so you can see the blunt ends. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

Not with scissors, maybe, but you clearly have different definitions of what hurting another person means. 

Jeffrey holds the end of your hospital gown and cuts upwards, careful even with the blunt ends of the scissors, not to touch the cool metal to your skin. Your chest heaves as the scissors split open the fabric over your tits and you close your eyes when they reach your neckline. You keep your eyes tight shut, listening to the snipping of the scissors as he cuts the fabric of your sleeves and pulls the gown away, leaving you entirely naked on David’s examination bed. Your nipples harden when you feel the cool breeze of the air conditioning fanning over them. 

Jeffrey lets out a low exhale. “Your fight wasn’t the only reason I chose you.” You open your eyes to find him staring at your body. “You’re beautiful, you know that, right?” 

Even though you still have to clench your fists to avoid letting him see that your hands are trembling, you feel your core tighten as butterflies erupt in your stomach. Under normal circumstances, you’d have liked to receive a compliment from Jeffrey - have him admire your naked form like this. But you remind yourself your current circumstances are as far away from normal as you could get.

“Don’t compliment me, you psychopath.”

He steps closer between your open legs and places his hands on your hips. There’s nowhere to cringe away to - but the sensation isn’t unpleasant. His hands are warm on your skin when he draws his thumbs along your hip bones. You feel goosebumps prickle on your skin as he does.

“Are you cold?” he asks gently.

The contrarian in you wants to argue with everything he says. To admit you’re uncomfortable in your vulnerable state would be giving him the upper hand. But the cool air makes the hair on your arms stand up so instead you swallow. “A - a little,” you answer quietly, deciding there’s no point in being even more uncomfortable than you already are.

“Cortex, turn it up to twenty-two degrees Celsius in here.” There’s a wave of warm air - a blessing on your cold, exposed skin. “That’s the temperature you like, right?” You don’t answer but your fists stop clenching and you can feel where your fingernails have been digging into your palms. “I’ll take that as a ‘yes’.”

Jeffrey puts the scissors down on the empty hospital rolling tray table. He notices your eyes following them.

“I told you they’re blunt. But I bet you’d like to stab me with something right now,” he teases. “You’ll come around eventually.”

He smiles, teasing you like you’re friends again and this is just a silly game. Like how he did before everything went to shit. “I’ll never come around. If you go through with this, I’ll throw myself down the stairs. I’ll drown myself in the reservoir. I’d rather die than carry your baby.”

“I won’t let that happen. Cortex will be with you day and night.”

“Cortex can’t keep a watch on all of us. The others -”

“The others. Hannah and Ida both relented. They’re excited, even, at the prospect of giving the human race another chance.”

“They relented after being strapped to a table and forcibly impregnated?”

“They went along willingly with Axel and David, respectively.” You can’t ignore the way his thumbs are so tenderly stroking your hip bones.

“And you’ll be able to live with yourself once you’ve done this? Done this to me?”

He shrugs. “I’ve already made peace with it,” says Jeffrey, drawing his thumbs down and massaging your vulva.

You look away, trying to ignore the surge of heat you feel in your core at his touch. “Stop that,” you snipe. “Can’t you just jerk off until you’re close and finish in me?”

“The chances of conception are higher if you cum too,” he says, pushing your outer lips together, putting the tiniest bit of pressure on your clit. You breathe in sharply, freezing for just a second before trying to move your hips away from him to no avail. “Besides, if I know you’re having a good time it makes it much more enjoyable for me.”

“This - this is not my idea of a good time, Jeffrey.”

“I think - deep down - this is exactly your idea of a good time. I see how you look at me.”

You flush, embarrassed that he’s throwing your earlier flirting from weeks ago back in your face. “You’re deluded.”

He tuts gently. “Now, you can’t lie to me when I can see how wet you are already. ”

This time you feel your embarrassment creeping right down to your chest. “I can’t - I can’t help how my body reacts to you touching me - I mean, being touched.”

But he smirks at your slip-up. “Sure. And when you’re begging for my cock in a few minutes, we can pretend you can’t control that either.”

“Fuck you, Jeffrey.” 

“Now that’s the spirit,” he says and your pussy protests when he removes his hands to drag over David’s office chair. You watch as he sits down and wheels closer, his head and shoulders still visible. “God, you have such a pretty little cunt.”

Jeffrey slides two fingers along your slit, dragging your wetness up and over your clit. You turn your head and look away, trying to appear disinterested. You’re determined not to enjoy this. Not to give him anything.

“What’s wrong? Are you worried if you watch that you’ll finish too quickly?” he asks, a mischievous grin lighting up his face as he lightly circles your clit with the rough pads of his fingers. 

“I’m just wondering if they have a hospital TV so I have something to do while you get this over with,” you say, blandly - a direct contrast with the heat pulsing from your clit. 

“Come on, baby. Don’t be like that. Not when I can see you soaking the bed.” He runs the two fingers between your lips and holds them up so you can see them glistening and wet under the fluorescent clinical lights. “Do you want to taste it? Make sure I’m not lying?”

You stare at him insolently, refusing to answer.

“What am I saying?” He laughs. “You’d bite my fingers clean off if they came anywhere near your mouth, right?” Jeffrey sucks on his two wet fingers, briefly closing his eyes, before slowly withdrawing them. “Mhm. You’re missing out. You taste so fucking good.”

You hate that he’s hot when he does that. You hate that he’s hot full stop.

Why is the psychopath you're stuck here with hot?

Billionaire CEOs are used to controlling everyone around them. You’re not surprised he’s getting off on having you completely at his mercy. What surprises you is that he’s good at it. 

When he slowly pushes two fingers inside you and curls them up, it’s like he knows it’s exactly what your body needs. You can’t help but gasp, feeling him gently stroking your G-spot. You bite your lip, trying to stifle any further noise involuntarily leaving you.

You don’t want this to feel as good as it does.

You try and leverage yourself up and away from him using your handcuffs but it’s no use when your legs are strapped down. Your ass barely lifts off the bed. He notices but he doesn’t stop tapping his fingers.

“C’mon, where are you going? We’ve barely even started,” he complains before inching his chair closer and pressing his lips against your inner thigh. “Tell me - how much - you want me - to fuck you.” Each pause is punctuated with a kiss or a suck on the sensitive flesh of your thigh as his fingers continue to curl up inside you. 

“You’re crazy if - if - if - ah-” You swallow, watching him smile triumphantly against your soft thigh. Stop, you have to think of something else. You’re a mechanic - not a machine. You can be mentally strong. You don’t have to react automatically when you have these very specific buttons pushed. You exhale steadily. “- If you think I’d ever want you to fuck me.”

But the more you try to appear bored, the more relaxed your body becomes and that only heightens the sensation of Jeffrey toying with your pussy. Feeling your legs untense, he pushes his fingers in deeper and with a jolt of pleasure your back arches. Fuck, fuck, fuck. You curse yourself for making this so easy for him. 

He laughs softly at the way your body becomes pliable under his touch and his hot breath fans over your clit. He picks up pace, tapping firmly against your g-spot. Everything pulls up in you like a spring tightening. 

Oh, fuck. This is it. You’re gonna - 

Suddenly, Jeffrey removes his fingers and frowns. “You know what? Maybe this was a bad idea after all.”

You feel your heartbeat in your ears below your waist screams in protest.

What did he just say? “R - really?” You’re surprised to hear your voice is just a whisper. 

You know you should feel relieved. But you were so close. 

You try to remind yourself to feel victorious. You resisted cumming long enough for him to come to his senses, after all.

“Although…” He tilts his head. “You’re soaked. What a mess you’ve made… somebody should really clean that up.”

You shudder when he draws his tongue all over your entrance, lapping up your arousal with the tip of his tongue before going back for more. He carefully avoids your clit, making sure not even the tip of his nose touches it. You feel the bundle of nerves throbbing, begging for his attention. You want him to notice, to move up just a couple of centimetres and slip his tongue over the sensitive little nub. 

So, you chase it instead. The lower half of your body is in total disregard of your protesting mind. You roll your hips forward hoping to catch his velvet tongue as he mops you up.

“You like this, do you?” smirks Jeffrey and he pulls back to watch your chest heave. You stop your wriggling abruptly, as your brain fights to regain firm control of your actions. “I’m afraid you’re not allowed to cum until my cock is inside you. And the only way that’s going to happen is if you ask for it.”

He looks over you with a smug smile but you’re not going to crack yet.

Are you?

“This is how you’re going to justify it to yourself, then?” you snarl, with renewed pent-up aggression.

“What you’ve got to understand is that I didn’t become a CEO without firstly, having what it takes to make someone break, and secondly, refusing to compromise when it matters most. And you’re going to break long before I decide to compromise.”

He stands up and pinches both of your nipples between his thumbs and forefingers and you suck air in through your teeth. “I wonder if you’d let me suck on your nipples today or if you’d try and bite me…” he thinks aloud, with a discerning look into your eyes as if trying to read your mind. Honestly, you’re not sure how you’d react, you feel so dizzy with need that you’re not really processing what he’s saying.

“I think it’s safe this time,” Jeffrey decides and then, as if for good measure adds, “Remember, I can bite too,” before latching onto your hard nipple. You huff a sigh, the fight burning inside you instantly forgotten as the contrast of his soft tongue running circles around the peak of your nipple makes you want to just melt away.

He firmly rolls your other nipple between his fingers and you arch under him, trying not to moan. Jeffrey takes an agonisingly slow time sucking on your tits, swapping from right to left, trying to fit them in his mouth, burying his face between them as you watch helplessly. The steady pulsing in your clit still throbbing, waiting for him to pay you attention below your waist again.

“God, you’re so hot when you’re being well-behaved,” he says. It’s probably a fair assessment - the last time you saw Jeffrey you hit him over the head with a wrench. You scowl - you don’t want him to think you’re complying just because his mouth on your nipple felt good.

“What’s that little pout for?” coos Jeffrey, straightening up and tracing a finger down your torso. “I know you’re smart but aren’t you tired of thinking all the time? Always thinking about machines and schematics. Solving problems. Wouldn’t you just like to relax for once?”

You purse your lips. This entire time in Evergreen has been so mentally draining. 

“If you really thought about it, wouldn’t you like the chance to stop fighting to prove yourself? All you have to do is say the word and you can stop fighting. All you have to be is my little fucktoy.” You screw your face up and he laughs. “You’re not gonna make it easy for me, are you?”

Jeffrey leans down and presses his tongue against your clit. You pant, waiting for him to give you clit the same treatment he was just giving your tits. He looks up at you and raises his eyebrows. “I’m not gonna make it easy for you either. You want to be a worker instead of a fucktoy? Then you can work for this too.”

“Fuck,” you whine, feeling tears prickling the corners of your eyes. 

You push your hips up against his face and rock back and forth as much as your constraints allow. Jeffrey follows your needy movements and sucks on your clit, swirls his tongue across the throbbing sensitivity and groans, sending deep vibrations across your skin.

You curse yourself for being so desperate for your orgasm. 

Everything pulses and burns. Fuck, it radiates from your centre as you grind yourself against Jeffrey’s face. 

“Ah - fuck,” you whimper as everything pulls up fierce and tight once more. Your fingers wrap around the chains of your handcuffs, giving you something to bear your weight against as you roll your pelvis and feel the flutter of his tongue on your clit.

Jeffrey pulls away and you actually cry out this time, arching your back and lifting your hips right off the bed as you helplessly try to follow his mouth. 

“Was that a close one, baby?” He clicks his tongue soothingly. “Shhh, you don’t need to cry.” You huff and blink tears from your eyes as he leans over and wipes a fat tear from under your eye with his thumb, smoothing it across your cheek. “All you have to do is ask. Ask for me to fuck you.”

You take a gulp of air and shake your head, using your very last bit of resolve to pull yourself together. 

“No?” he asks and with difficulty you shake your head again. With a sigh, he turns away from you and unbuttons his shirt. You blink slowly as he reveals his toned, muscular shoulders and back. “Usually this is reserved for girls who behave. But I can make an exception - given the circumstances.”

The room is silent, save for the hum of the air conditioning and your laboured breathing. Your eyes rake over him. He has no right to make you feel self-conscious. Especially when it’s his fault that you’re in the state you’re in right now. But he does. Just him existing - looking like that - makes you self-conscious of the sweat glistening on your stomach and the puddle of arousal coating the examination bed.

You were attracted to him the first time you saw him. Felt his bicep when you hit him on the arm playfully in the control room. Watched his muscular forearm flex under a rolled-up sleeve when you asked him to lift a piece of machinery while you fixed one of Cortex’s attachments. You already knew that his physical form was more than it seemed under his tailored shirt.

But Jesus fucking Christ.

Like the control freak he is, he folds his shirt neatly before turning back around and standing between your open legs again. Your gaze flicks down, following the dark blonde trail of hair covering his chest and stomach. 

Jeffrey undoes his belt and the gentle clinking noise seems deafening in the quiet, clinical room. The atmosphere crackles as you hold your breath. 

Waiting. 

He hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his overpriced, designer boxers and eases his cock out. And of course, it’s hard already - there’s no way he wasn’t getting off on this. But he’s thick too. Without realising it, your whole body tenses up when he wraps his hand around it.

“No.” You look away adamantly. Though you’re not sure whether you’re protesting about him having his cock out or if you’re resolving not to be persuaded by temptation.

Deciding it’s the former, Jeffrey says, “I already told you, I’m not gonna fuck you until you’re begging me for it.”

Jeffrey cups your pussy and for a second, your body hopes against your own will that he’s going to slip his fingers inside you again. But you feel a pang of longing when instead, he gathers up your arousal on the flats of his fingers before coating himself in your slick.

“I thought you’d break sooner than this,” he says, stepping close enough that the underside of his cock brushes your clit. Your breathing picks up again - his touch sending an electric current through you that kicks your needly little nerve endings into hyperdrive. 

He doesn’t fail to notice. 

Jeffrey holds onto your hips and fuck, you feel so small in his large, firm hands. He edges closer, dragging his length along your clit. All the gears whir furiously inside your brain - normally your thoughts are so collected. You wish your brain was working properly but all you can focus on is the delicious way he’s rocking his hips, putting the lightest pressure possible on your clit.

You can’t take it.

You can’t fucking take it.

You buck wildly, your body begging for more pressure but he keeps steady, giving you a knowing smirk as you arch your back again, chasing the sensation. 

“God dammit,” you sob, wishing you had a hand free just to slap that smile off his face.

Your fingernails dig crescent moon indents into your palms as you exert yourself, shamelessly trying to grind against the underside of Jeffrey’s cock.

“Come on, baby. You can get it if you want it. Almost there.”

He follows your movements this time, pulling your hips into his own.

Holy fuck. 

Your heart leaps into your throat as you teeter on a tightrope, willing yourself to fall off. To let yourself plummet.

Yes. Yes. Yes, yes, yes, you think with every little grinding motion.

You squeeze your eyes shut as your orgasm rears its head.

Then Jeffrey steps back and his departure fucking winds you.

“No! Fuck, nonononono!” you wail.

“I told you that all you have to do is -”

“Fuck me. Fuck me. Pleeeeaaassseeee,” you howl, feeling tears hot and wet on your cheeks. 

What the fuck are you doing? This is so fucked up. 

And what’s worse is that you want it. 

You like it.

“Tell me you want me to breed you,” says Jeffrey, placing the tip of his cock against your entrance.

You nod, looking away in shame.

“Tell me. Using words.”

“I - I want you to breed me,” you mumble, feeling your face turn bright red once more.

“Good girl,” he says, slapping you on the side of the thigh like you’re livestock. Jeffrey inches forward and you’re so slick and hot between your legs that you’re able to take him more easily than you’d imagined when you first saw the size of his cock. His grip on your hips tightens as he slowly sheaths himself in you, sucking through his teeth.

“I’m glad you finally saw sense,” he grunts, wrapping his hands around your thighs to better leverage himself so he can sink into you deeper.

Sense? What sense? Your own thoughts have never made less sense than right now. You don’t know how to tell him this so you just whimper, blinking at him slowly while he stretches you out. The head of his cock presses against your G-spot and your eyes roll back in your head, grateful that this most sensitive part of your insides is getting the attention it’s been crying out for. 

Holy fucking shit.

Your walls clench around him, clamping down hard as your legs begin to tremble. Jeffrey groans before pulling back out and slamming into you and, fuck, you’d be screaming if you could breathe properly right now. You’re only sure that you haven’t been deactivated again because you can still see. 

“You’re all - fucking - mine. Forever,” he says through clenched teeth, drilling into you. 

He removes a hand from your hip and starts rubbing circles on your clit as he thrusts. You finally take a gasp of air - so deep that you might be waking up from reactivation - as stars are exploding behind your eyes. “Ah - ah, Jeffrey - fuck,” you whine. 

And then you’re writhing. Writhing and grinding as much as you can while he uses your body as a counterweight to thrust himself into you. You’re not losing it this time. He’ll be merciful this time, right?

“You gonna cum for me?” asks Jeffrey. “You gonna cum from being used like a slut?”

“Yes, yes - yes,” you pant, chasing your impending orgasm, everything pulling inside you like a rubber band getting ready to snap.

“Tell me you want my cum -”

“I - I want you to cum - fuck - cum in me,” you say, cutting him off before he can even finish as you take open-mouthed gulps of air. “Breed me. Use me. Do whatever you want.”

“Fuck, I’ve never heard you say that before,” he murmurs to himself, furrowing his brow. With renewed determination, he speeds up his thrusting in time with the circles he’s rubbing around your poor, abused clit. “Come on, baby. You can cum now,” he breathes.

You don’t give him a chance to change his mind. You vault over the edge this time. Your core tightens like a vice then explodes - wet and hot around his cock, squeezing and spasming around him as you tremble and beg for him to let you finish this time. 

Jeffrey lets out a low groan, coarse like grit as he fucks you so hard the examination table moves and squeaks on the polished stone floor. You feel his cock pulsing inside you as he growls his way through his release, shooting ropes of his seed inside you. 

He pulls out of you quicker than you’d like him to. But it’s with purpose as he pulls up his boxers and says “Cortex - tilt the bed back minus 30 degrees.”

The bed mechanically reclines until your pelvis is higher than your head. It doesn’t help with how dazed you’re feeling.

Your state of mind must be painted all over your face because when Jeffrey walks around to the side of the bed, pulling on his shirt he says, “Just like this for a couple of minutes to give us the best chances of conception.” He brushes a sweat-soaked strand of your hair back from your face. 

You look at the ceiling as you regain control of your breathing. 

Eventually, Jeffrey puts you upright. 

“I’m going to take off your restraints so you can go to V-mem,” he says. “I’m warning you now that Cortex will deactivate you if you try to harm me.”

“V-mem?” you ask.

“I can understand that your current situation could be considered to be… traumatic. V-mem will help you rewrite that trauma.”

You nod and watch silently as Jeffrey presses a button that undoes your restraints. He taps an electronic key fob above your head and it unclips your handcuffs.

“Better?” he asks, watching you rub your wrists. You remain silent. You’ve nothing else to say. Nothing you can say that will change what your future will be down here.

Jeffrey frowns and hands you a fresh hospital gown and you put it on before following down the corridor in your bare feet to the V-mem room.

“You - you know how to use it? Even though McKenna is gone?” you ask, stepping into the chamber.

“We’ve not only used it but we’ve improved it,” he says, pulling the door shut. For some reason, this particular door shutting jogs something in your brain. “V-mem can do more than just help process trauma. It can actually delete memories.” 

You stare at him through the glass pane. He might be evil but he has a perfect face. 

Too perfect.

You remember hitting him pretty hard with a wrench. Shouldn't there be a bruise?

“Jeffrey... how long was I deactivated for?” 

“Which time?” he replies absently pressing buttons on the V-mem pod.

Your stomach sinks.

Deleted memories.

“How many times have we done this?” you ask, your throat feels tight as he continues to press buttons.

Jeffrey pauses. “This is the first time you’ve ever asked that.”

“How many times, Jeffrey?” you plead.

“Nine.”

You feel bile bubbling up in your throat.

“And - and how many more times will we need to do it?” you ask, trying to keep your voice as casual as if you were asking the weather.

“We’ll keep doing it until you’re pregnant. Or until you agree that this is our best shot for humanity. You’ve taken much longer than Hannah and Ida to come around.”

“I agree,” you say quickly. You can’t let your memories be erased. You can’t let this happen again to future you. “I - I see it now. You were right Jeffrey.”

He raises an eyebrow sceptically. “Why the sudden change of heart?”

“I - I’m not sure. I think it just took a while to sink in.” His expression remains still. “And now I - I realise I’m so lucky that you chose me and I’m not stuck with David or Axel.”

Jeffrey’s face softens into a smile. It’s been so long down here that his ego must have been feeling so neglected. 

“I’m the lucky one,” he says, opening the door of the V-mem pod and cupping your face. “You are the smartest person down here and I’ve missed you while you’ve been deactivated.”

You paint a simpering smile on your face, choking down the retort on your tongue - that it was he who deactivated you in the first place.

“No - I am. Think about how smart and beautiful our children will be,” you say, fluttering your eyelashes. 

He laughs “Come on - let’s get out of here,” says Jeffrey helping you out of the pod and putting an arm around you. “And back to my quarters.”

“Your quarters?”

“Well, if we’re going to be parents together we should probably start sleeping in the same bed, right?”

“Right,” you chuckle weakly, letting him lead you down the corridor to the bed that you’ll be spending the rest of your life sleeping in.

[tg-headcanons]

Two thoughts:

Does the ccg use dogs to sniff out ghouls? If they do, i almost imagine they would develope a specific, ghoul hunting breed - one with an excellent sense of smell but, unlike most hunting dogs, with no instinct to bite or attack their prey but rather to just find, follow, surround and hold in place (a bit like a rhodesian ridgeback, perhaps.) After all, the dog trying to attack the ghoul would absolutely not end well at all for the dog

And

I imagine some instruments must be more grating on ghoul ears then others - i.e. a piano, for example, will generally sound nice as long as it's in tune and so i imagine ghouls wouldn't have much of an averse reaction to that instrument, even if its a beginner playing. But say, for example, you have a beginner clarinet whose instrument squeaks and shrieks like a cat that just got its tail shredded — i cant imagine that would pair terribly well with their hearing

GHOUL HUNTING DOGS GHOUL HUNTING DOGS (IVE NEVER CONSIDERED THIS BEFORE BUT MY DOG DAYCARE EMPLOYEE ASS IS GOING WILD)

The practice of using dogs to search for ghouls is a very old one, but despite falling out of practice around the 1960s due to breed health problems and more effective methods being discovered, some of them are still around like other breeds no longer used for their original purpose

Arracht hounds are an old breed that split off from Bloodhounds. They were meant to track and hunt, but some had a behavioral quirk of howling and snarling at their prey rather than attacking, alerting humans of their location but quick to scare off animals and a liability to hunts. They were mostly deemed useless bloodhounds, until a small community in rural Ireland during the Middle Ages had one of their bloodhounds do this alert display at a seemingly normal human who was later discovered to be the monster preying on their village

The breed started to be cultivated for ghoul detection. They eventually ended up as tall, long legged and wrinkly animals bred to shriek and follow their marks, and trained to seek the smell of ghouls. Before the invention of better methods, these dogs were revolutionary and often the best detection system anyone could get. They were trained to stay out of a ghoul’s grasp to keep making as much noise as possible for as long as possible until humans could show up, and their wrinkly, loose skin made it easy for them to escape, better to lose a handful of skin than be killed

This obviously wasn’t a perfect system. A lot of those dogs, even the best bred and trained, didn’t survive their encounters. Others would find false positives and cause their attending humans to attack and kill other humans. Still, back then, an imperfect alarm was better than nothing. Many places in Europe became very dangerous for ghouls, and as those dogs spread through the world it only got worse for them

Eventually the dogs fell out of use. With better methods such as rc testing discovered they were no longer the most reliable source, and both human rights organizations citing the amount of innocent humans they got killed and animal rights groups citing how many of the dogs get killed, there was less and less reason to keep them on. The final straw was just how bad the breed got. Over time the breed developed issues the same as any other, but this one had a tendency to lose hearing and eyesight early and get neurotic and dangerous when working around ghouls for too long, so most ghoul extermination organizations retired the Arracht Hounds

Most of them are now housepets, some are trying to retrain them into guard or hunting dogs, and a few rural ghoul hunting organizations still use them, but for the most part they don’t work anymore. Every once and awhile there’s a headline of a ghoul getting caught when a family’s Arracht hound went wild over an inconspicuous neighbor, but that’s as far as it goes. People in cities are advised against getting them. They shriek very loud and maybe it’s all false positives, but you really don’t want to know just how many ghoul are around you

And as for the instruments: the ghoul hatred of squeaky clarinets and trumpets is visceral. They will actively avoid middle schools and music shops where kids are learning to play them

[destiny-in-the-universe]

I should not be allowed to write lol

Another idea hit me for Tale of the Nine Tailed and if you thought my last three ideas were angst-ridden, this one is even worse. I decided to be mean for no reason, but here’s yet another alternate universe no one asked for.

This one makes literally no sense, but oh well!

(title pending): Turmoil hits Lee Yeon and his younger brother, Lee Rang, as supernatural hunters attempt to drive them out of their home. Yeon brings it upon himself to keep them both safe, but it seems like they’re running on borrowed time… until the hunters realize exactly what they’re up against!

Read below the cut for more information!

Alternate Universe Information

Lee Yeon was still the former guardian and Lord of the Forest. However, the supernatural world is constantly at odd’s end with hunters; the ones who are willing to capture creatures of the Other Side.

Things are fine for a time. As a deity and protector, no one would be foolish enough to mess with him. Everything takes a turn for the worse when he first discovers having a younger brother, Rang, and a hybrid at that.

Yeon catches wind hunters are chasing after Rang, and in the process, Yeon himself. Furious at the hunters’ intentions, he takes Rang under his wing - bringing them into hiding.

Unfortunately, trouble continues to arise and Yeon and Rang attempt to live as normal humans, and things are fine. At least for a little while…

[REDACTED] Things happen here.

Aeum/Nam Jiah still exists but her role in this is a little different and it’s all I’m willing to say until i flesh everything out!

The Hunters

Greedy hunters attempted to capture monsters/supernatural creatures for their own use. Whether it was to tether them down as pets… or simply out of fear of creatures attacking them first, they were ruthless.

Targeting Old Families had been frowned upon; and for deities and guardians, it was a death wish for hunters to chase after them. Especially considering the level of power Clans had… until hunters became too consumed by their own selfish wants and desires.

Lee Yeon had never been a target, but rumors spread of a half-breed and the hunters found themselves willing to take immeasurable risks.

Hunters began learning of creatures’ weaknesses, determined to bring them down by any means necessary.

I’ll be sharing more later because unfortunately, I’m not at the hotel right now, and the rest will be shared within another post! Though trust me, this idea is insane, kind of contradicts canon - other than Ki Yuri’s history with smugglers in Russia capturing her but let’s just say there are other factions of hunters…

That’s all for now! Enjoy!

[paragonrobits]

“Is this the right thing to do?” is something asked to him.

It is not often something spoken in the public spaces of the groups he has run with. For he has worn many names, guises and identities in the course of his battles. He was Erik Lensherr. He has been Magnus, he was Max Eisenhardt a very long time ago, and the name Magneto rings truest. Yet it is not the whole of him; it is his battle-face, the one the world knows him as.

(And this is the key, to all of it. That the world thinks of Magneto, as a terror and doom upon it, or as a hero willing to do whatever it takes to keep his people alive against the certainty of humanity’s cruelty. And yet, it is an image. A carefully crafted one, and perhaps most honest to who and what he is, but it is still an image.)

Magneto’s followers are true believers. Those who stand with him, or those willing to perform any cruelty, do any despicable deed as long as they could imagine that their crimes would be the stepping stones to a day when such things would no longer be necessary (for, in his youth, Magneto once courted those who were willing to do such things, and those who wanted that just for the sake of their own terrible lusts or just because they liked hurting people, but he has since seen that it does him little good to be among such people). They are loyal; not perhaps to him, but to their cause. They are honest, and sincere, and there is little room for lies or illusions in these spaces.

But it is also not excellent room for forethought, or doubt. So they do not ask these things in public. And he dislikes that this is a problem; this is not a cult. This is not an online space, where merely saying things is the same things as doing actual work, and the illusion of virtue is seen as the same thing as willingness to do what had to be done.

But still; any sane mind has room for doubt, and it must be addressed.

He cannot, will not admit that he has his own doubts.

He does not speak of them. Magneto cannot be seen to doubt, or hesitate for even a moment.

He does not turn his head. The movement behind him, the whispers on the wind, might just be his imagination. They might be the dead left in his wake, the people he tells himself had to die, and had to be tortured and brutalized as a warning or to one end and another. The families he leaves broken; the people left behind.

Some part of him, molded into this shape by the horrors he has seen and the things he knows will come again (for humanity does not change, and he has seen enough of history to know the same stupid, hateful patterns will repeat over and over until something makes it stop) shares a though that he knows his followers would not dare imagine him thinking.

They cannot know that, even if for a moment at a time, he wonders if the death he leaves behind him is worth it.

No sane mind can kill, for decades or even just years and months, and not be scarred by it. Ruined by it, in some way. Indeed; he MUST force himself to ache from it. The pain must never leave him.

He has seen, over the decades, what happens when people allow themselves to be comforted too much by a sense of righteousness. So he forces himself to feel it.

The pain in his wake weighs heavily on him.

It has to be worth it, he thinks. It MUST be worth it.

He’s building a better world, he tells himself.

He has no choice, he tells himself.

Even so. He clenches his hand tight.

He cannot forget what he has done.

He thinks that, with the things he has done, even if the safer world he dreams of comes about in his lifetime, he will not see it.

No. Not after what he does, what he must do, to achieve that world.

[megan-is-mia]

Monster yandere nsfw 17 and 20 savanaclaw?

17. “You think I’m a monster, I’ll show how much of a monster I can really be” 20. “Taking you away from the human world was the only way to save you” (Yandere! Savanaclaw Dorm x Fem! S/o) (WARNING NSFW AND NON-CON AHEAD)

Most days (Y/n) was proud to be a prey beastwoman in Savanaclaw. Even after years and years of progress, there was still a bit of bias about her kind not being strong enough to keep up with their predator peers. She knew that her struggles were for the greater good and that the prey beastfolk that came after her would have easier lives because of her efforts to overcome social barriers. Even knowing that, it wasn't always easy to keep her head held high. She could see how predators looked at her, she heard the things they whispered behind their hands. (Y/n) was quite aware of how they enjoyed making her life just a little more difficult than necessary all for their personal amusement. However there was something worse still then a bullying predator; one who was attracted to her.

Puberty had hit her like a train, her body filled out in just the right places to make males both human and demi-human want to talk her up. It was easy enough to shake off the average guy with a gentle rejection or with sharp words if it came down to it. However some predator males just didn't seem to want to take no for an answer. The worst offenders being from (Y/n)’s own dorm: the dormhead Leona Kingscholar, his lackey Ruggie Bucchi, and the freshman Jack Howl.

At first the three were at each other’s throats trying to assert dominance over who would get to court her but within a matter of weeks it seems an agreement was formed between the trio to share her amongst themselves. She found her every move being watched by at least one of the men if not all three at the same time.

This was especially annoying at the current moment as her time of the month had come and she was going to go into heat any day now. Though all she wanted to do was stay cooped up in her room and just wait the experience out, she knew she had to suck it up and go to class like a good student should. When she took her seat in class she was immediately hit with the feeling that more eyes than usual were on her.

Her pre-heat pheramones were pumping in full force and making every man and beast take notice of her. However none dared to make a move for (Y/n) had already been spoken for even though she herself did not know that to be the case. No she sat totally unaware of how she was tempting her mates so wickedly by flaunting her readiness to mate. When she got up to go to her next class she was instead dragged off to an empty classroom nearby.

“The fuck were you trying to pull there prey?” Leona said in a low growl as he shut the door behind him. The smell coming off of (Y/n) was already starting to drive him crazy. “Heh, she probably didn't realize what she was doing~” Ruggie chimed in with a wicked laugh as he locked the door and hid the key. “Hey could you two knock it off with the creepy talk, you’re scaring her” Jack interjected, his tail wagging just a little bit.

“What… what’s going on? Why?” (Y/n) managed to force out. “Don’t play dumb prey, you should already know you belong to us” Leona said striding over to the girl and running a hand down her side. “Yeah we’re your mates dufus and now that you’re in heat we’re gonna breed you to make lots of babies” Ruggie said sliding up behind the beastwoman to nibble at her neck. “We’ll be very good to you, make sure to give you lots of pups to love” Jack promised, moving close to kiss the girl shyly. (Y/n) was given no chance to talk much less protest before she found her clothes torn away and her legs straddled over Leona’s bare chest. Her cheeks turned pink and her heart began to race as she felt her nethers starting to grow hot from her heat beginning in earnest.

The lion pulled her hips forwards so her pussy was resting against his face and his tongue darted out to flick at her clit. (Y/n) yelped and tried to pull away but Leona’s hands held her steady as he began to eat her out leisurely. Her cunt responded to this attention by starting to drip heavily, leaving wet spots in the lion-beastman’s hair as he devoured her pussy with increasing speed.

Soon enough the young woman found herself bucking her hips and riding his face. In addition to the attention to her cunt from Leona, soon her breasts were getting service from Ruggie who sucked on one breast with his mouth while squeezing and pinching the other with his hand. Not to be left out on this doting fest on their mate, Jack frantically pressed his lips against hers to make out with his tongue darting around her mouth.

It wasn’t long until (Y/n)’s vision began to get fuzzy and she came with a muffled cry into Jack’s mouth. Her pussy drenched Leona’s face and he dutifully licked it all up before pushing her down his body until her rear bumped against something solid. Bemused, the young woman looked behind her to see the lion’s cock already standing eagerly at half-mast.

With a few pumps from the young man it was soon standing at full attention and ready for business. The beastwoman’s hips were lifted and she was slowly lowered down onto his cock with her letting out a series of uncontrollable moans as she slid lower and lower. Finally as she reached the base she had to stop to catch her breath and try to get used to the feeling of something stretching her out so much.

Sadly she wasn’t given much time to process the sensation before something wet was poking at her back hole. Looking back she saw that Jack had positioned himself behind her and was using his tongue to start opening up her ass. She tried to stutter out an excuse to make him stop but he ignored her as he continued to use his tongue and then his fingers to work her open before replacing both with his cock.

If she had thought having her pussy penetrated was the limit of stretch she could endure then this was breaking that assumption into pieces. She could feel both cocks rubbing against each other through the thin wall of skin between her pussy and back hole. “Monsters… you’re all monsters” she managed to splutter out, receiving no reaction from either Jack or Leona but getting a howling laugh from Ruggie.

“You think I’m a monster, I’ll show how much of a monster I can really be” Ruggie said still laughing before he pulled her head down and forced his cock down her throat. With all three of her holes being used, it wasn't long until (Y/n) lost herself to pleasure and her heat. It also wasn't long until she came again but that didn't mean this experience was anywhere close to being finished.

After each man had cum once they switched holes and repeated the process again. (Y/n) lost count of how long it went on but by the time she had regained mental clarity she was no longer in the empty classroom with the males. Instead at some point in her horny haze they had carried her back to Savanaclaw and now she was trapped in a cuddle pile with them with her cunt aching and throbbing from the abuse it’d suffered.

“Sorry about this (Y/n) but taking you away from the human world was the only way to save you” Jack said, making the young woman jolt from surprise. She had assumed all three men were asleep after using her like a breeding toy. The wolf-beastman carefully scooted closer to her so he could hold her and pet her comfortingly. “You’ll thank us eventually, when you start to show with the pups” he added, this words sending a shiver down (Y/n)’s back.

The idea that she would have to carry these awful men’s children made her sick. Was it not enough for them that they had used and abused her so? She felt her eyes starting to well up with tears and she hid her face against Jack’s chest as she cried heavily. Soon exhaustion would take over once more to temporarily release her from this hell…

THE END

[eldritch-spouse]

Angst angst angst

I sure do love Breg, but still kinda want to mess up with him and see other routes

What if Breg’s obsession did not want to put up with his nightly adventures and decided to take action, like block all entrances, move to a new place, call the police(animal shelter, fbi, man in black, etc)?

How would Breg react? Will he try to go for his mate? How much he will be angry and whether he will try to take revenge for crushing his dreams?

P.S love Pretty Pill. Can’t wait to see more.

[Ahahahahhhhhh... Oh boy. :)]

You really think blocking entrances will stop the breeder? The only reason he won't barge right through is because he's worried the grievous property damage will make you hate him. Breg only needs a single moment of distraction, a lapse in judgement. He's much more durable than you, he can go longer periods of time without eating and resting than a human. All the monster needs to do is effectively keep a sharp eye on your current whereabouts, wait for you to open the balcony for your cat and waltz right in the moment you turn back to do something else. Breg's skin will darken to hide him in the shadows the night casts over your bedroom, he'll silently cling to the walls until he finds a place to hide in and merely wait for you to fall asleep. For his size, he can go unnoticed surprisingly easily.

If you started taking very annoying measures to keep Breg out of your living space, it would only end up being worse for you, because then Breg will make sure to prolong his stay within your home as long as he can. You will go entire days living your merry life, unaware an eight foot tall monster is loitering around the same walls, rummaging through your things, watching you avidly, making sure to act on every want before he inevitably has to leave again. This is arguably worse than his nightly visits because Breg will be under more stress and therefore do more damage to your living spaces. And do nastier things to you, since he's not sure when he'll have access to you again.

The moment the police gets involved is when Breg knows he can't leave you alone anymore.

The animal shelter wouldn't do shit to this beast of a monster and you know it. If ever you want to see a bloodbath however, just wait until some poor sap tries to net Breg into a truck.

You see, Breg isn't exactly a legal citizen. In fact, he's a fugitive- To the world at large, he's still just a breeding asset that escaped its containment, like an animal that rampaged its way out of a zoo. If he's ever caught by the cops, there's a good chance the people who are looking for their prized golden goose will take notice and hone in on Breg's location. Breg is confident he can fight off multiple pursuers, if they come unarmed that is. Not any kind of weapon will put him down, but he's also not invincible. Then it's back to square one. And Breg would rather literally die than set foot in there again. On top of that, there's the very real possibility that his pursuers would use you as form of bait, therfore dragging you into Breg's nasty past, the very thing he wants to keep out of this relationship. Breg won't chance it. Plans for kidnapping start germinating here. Where would Breg keep you long-term? He doesn't know yet, but you'll be cooped up in his flat until the breeder gets an idea. You did that to yourself.

Breg is, understandably, miffed at you. Not exactly because of the locked entrances, he can get over that. You want things to be slow and Breg thinks your hesitation to accept him is kind of cute! Plus, the house is overall safer, and that's always good. Those are fine, he won't get mad at his mate for such. When you call the authorities however, Breg's fury flares up like a blister- And then immediately calms down, because he remembers you don't know what you're doing. Breg hasn't told you about his past, so obviously you don't know what would happen the moment he's caught.

Moving out is also not a very good solution. Like I said, Breg has no legal ties to society, he's just a dude, documents won't stop him from simply trailing after you and settling down nearby yet again. Even if Fasma gets sick of his antics and refuses to rent someplace new because he knows this whole plan is going to shit- Breg can still sustain himself enough to live and keep a constant eye (or lackthereof) on you. He doesn't exactly register moving out as something that you do because of him. He interprets it more akin to you just not finding the right place, like someone who casually switches pillows on their bed to freshen up.

You wouldn't do such a horrible thing to him had you known the consequences, right? Of course not. You're just scared and confused, no one's ever loved you like him, he knows it's a lot to take in. Maybe you just don't know enough about monsters, quite like the breeder himself still has plenty to learn about humans. Breg expected that much, so he won't hold your panicked reactions against you. He still knows you're the perfect mate, and what kind of breeder would he be if he just gave up on you because of a little bump in the road? You need only accept him, and you will, there's no point fighting it when Breg has gotten it through his skull that the two of you are perfect together.

When you're done having your frail-minded human fits, Breg will be there to soothe you. There's only so much denial and panic a person can experience before they try to work around the situation, right?

[phoenixyfriend]

Jangobi 5 for the soulmate thing? Because that would make the fight on kamino just *chef's kiss*

soulmate au prompts

5. the one where you don’t know your soulmate until you touch them.

Apparently there’s never any skin to skin contact in the movie? Because armor? So......... we’re gonna just. Quick little thing.

Also I’ve been doing a lot of “marginally less shitty” Jango, but this is just-as-shitty-as-canon Jango. It’s, uh, not much of a romance, because Kamino. Actually it’s mostly just a lot of angry yelling about human rights violations.

...I’m sure they’ll get together eventually. It’s just, you know... it’s going to take a while.

------

Jango’s heard about this Jedi.

The man isn’t famous, or particularly acclaimed. It’s just that Mandalorians gossip, and Death Watch isn’t exempt, and Dred Priest still has friends in the terrorist group. So do a few others.

(Jango sometimes wonders if he’d have invited Priest, had he knows the monster was only a step away from being Death Watch himself.)

(Probably not.)

(He’d at least have been able to see the battle circles coming.)

Death Watch hates one specific Jedi above all others: Obi-Wan Kenobi.

It’s almost enough to make a man like the pretty bastard, except the reason Death Watch hates this specific Jedi is because he kept Duchess Kryze alive, and Jango isn’t much of a fan of hers, either.

In the moment, though, the main thing this all means is that Obi-Wan Kenobi knows Mandalorian customs.

First meetings, out of armor, mean ensuring the arm clasp has skin contact.

His eyes flick down to where Jango is reflexively pulling up his sleeves, and the man just... does the same, sodden as the beige-on-brown-on-dark-brown robes are.

Jango can’t just play it off. He has to, ugh, arm clasp with a Jedi.

Kenobi probably guesses how unpleasant this is for him, going by the grim little smile that he wears, the one Taun We can’t read and Jango can, but they touch forearms and le--

They do not let go.

“Oh kriff,” Kenobi swears, and then it’s just... it’s too late. It’s too late to stop anything.

“Jetii,” Jango spits as if it’s a swear.

He doesn’t want to be soulmates with a Jedi. No sane person ever wants to be soulmates with a Jedi, but as a Mandalorian, and as specifically Jango Fett, who signed onto this project for revenge against Jedi, the idea is just... excruciating.

“For revenge? Not entirely unexpected, but I’m still somehow disappointed.”

“Stay out of my head.”

Kenobi smiles at him, completely devoid of anything but the blackest of humor. “Are you staying out of mine?”

And, well, no. They’re soulmates. Kenobi has more of an idea on how to control how far his mind wanders into Jango’s, but in this moment, just seconds after being bound together by the universe... Jango’s slamming into Kenobi’s shields with an embarrassing lack of control.

“Is something the matter?” Taun We asks.

“I do believe we need to speak alone,” Kenobi says. “Unfortunate timing, but this is our first meeting, and it appears we are soulmates.”

“Ah. We were informed of the human tendency towards such.” She blinks, too large eyes impossible to read for Kenobi, but entirely readable for Jango after all these years. She’s irritated. “I apologize, but it appears we were unable to remove such unpredictability from the product.”

A wave of revulsion leaks out of Kenobi’s mind and into Jango’s. The man just nods. “I understand. As it is, I imagine that the near instantaneous communication on the battlefield will be a boon, if any are bonded to each other or to active soldiers.”

“I defer to your judgement as client, Master Kenobi,” Taun We hums, still irritable. It’s less visible in her face, but... Kenobi can feel it. “I shall leave you to get... acquainted.”

Aaaaaaaand she’s expecting them to sleep together the second she turns her back. The disgust she feels at the thought of such carnal activities is thirdhand to Jango, but he can still feel it, because Kenobi can feel it, because they’re soulmates.

“Oh, do tell me how you really feel,” Kenobi mutters, sweeping past him into the apartment.

Jango wishes he could slam the door as he storms after the Jedi.

“Listen here--”

“Absolutely not,” Kenobi says, with the kind of bland, impersonal smile that Jango’s heard Dred Priest bitch about at least a dozen times. “I need you to answer me this: why are you selling your children into what is clearly slavery?”

“They’re not my children.”

“You choose to be dar’buir, then?” Kenobi clucks a tongue, acting like he can’t even feel Jango’s waves of hate that are just growing by the second. “Shame on you, Mand’alor.”

“I am not the Mand’alor.”

“No. You are demagolka,” Kenobi says, the sweet words of Jango’s first language falling from his lips like poisoned honey. “They are your children, Fett. Your clones, just as human as you.”

“They are little more than droids, Jedi. The Kaminoans--”

Kenobi laughs, sharp and bitter, and it’s enough of a surprise that Jango stops talking. The Jedi strides closer, and it takes everything in him to not step back at what little emotion the Jedi allows through.

“Let me show you,” Kenobi hisses, putting a hand on either side of Jango’s head and it’s too much this is not a sense he is meant to have.

Kenobi cannot lie to Jango, not in this mental space. Not in this existence. He can cherry-pick what he shows, he can exaggerate, he can hide, but he cannot present a falsehood.

What Kenobi shows him, as he pulls Jango into his mind and drowns him in the sensation of the Force, is how each and every clone shines, bright and unique and so very human, so very sentient, so very alive.

These are your children, Kenobi says, directly into his mind and with no room to pull away. If they choose to disown you for your crimes against them, then that is their right, but until they do, they are your responsibility. You’re playing in denial and cognitive dissonance, soulmate mine. If I have to drag you into caring for your children the way any Mandalorian would, then so be it.

“Kriff off,” Jango manages to grit out in the real world. Kenobi looks unimpressed, when he lets go. The sensations in Jango’s mind, the jangled distaste and horror and anger, those are worse.

“Are you going to be dar’manda?” Kenobi demands. “You, who were once king of your people, have you really sunk so low to be the worst of your kind? To be so horrible that even Kyr’tsad would be shamed? Or worse, approve?”

“You have no place--”

“You are violating one of the core tenets of your culture!” Kenobi shouts. “You are being the worst of what you could be, Jango Fett! The most important, the absolute most important element of your culture, the care and nurture of children, and look at what you’ve done--”

“The clones--”

“Your sons!” Kenobi growls at him. “Your children, Fett. I’ve a student that is, by every Mandalorian standard, my son. I know what it is to take in a child that is not yours by blood, to raise a foundling, and you are cutting off millions that are your blood. You aren’t turning away an orphan to another family because you cannot care for them as they deserve, you are breeding your children for war like bantha to slaughter.”

Jango throws the first punch.

Kenobi throws the second.

By the time the fight ends, the room is in ruins, for all that they do not draw blasters or sabers. Kenobi has Jango on his back, straddling his chest with knees on his wrists, a vibroblade to his neck. Kenobi’s lip is bleeding, and Jango thinks he might have caused a hairline fracture in the cheekbone. Both of them have at least one broken rib, and Jango’s currently blind in one eye from the blood pouring out of a cut on his forehead.

Kenobi’s a good fighter. If it weren’t for everything else, Jango might have even been able to appreciate that.

“You,” Kenobi growls, fisting one hand into Jango’s curls and yanking for emphasis, earning himself a snarl in return. “Are going to fix this mess you’ve helped create. If I have to drag the entire Jedi council, the entire senate, if I have to drag in all of Mandalore to make you fix this, I will.”

There’s determination in those words, angry and a little spiteful, but mostly just... disappointed.

“Of course I’m disappointed,” Kenobi spits out, like the words are hot coals. He’s expressive. Jango wants to like it, but mostly he just resents the trait. “I hoped to never find a soulmate; it just complicates things. Opsec becomes a nightmare and holding to the code is difficult. And now I have a soulmate, and he’s an absolute monster that views his own children as little more than droids.”

“War is going to come for them no matter what,” Jango manages to say, and Kenobi’s look is back to unimpressed. “Don’t pretend you haven’t heard of the separatists. There’s an army of actual droids, metal and code, just waiting for the right moment to pick a fight. It’s too late to stop it.”

“...you’re not only raising an army of your own children, but engineering the war that’s going to kill them?” Kenobi almost screeches, and the wave of nauseous loathing that slams into Jango is almost enough to make him actually vomit. Kenobi didn’t pull punches, not in the actual fight and not in whatever mental battle they’re apparently having via emotions and words.

“I’m not engineering it,” Jango says. “I’m just one part in a bigger machine. I got my payment. The rest is on Tyranus.”

He doesn’t even stop the images from flickering through his mind, throwing the man who hired him under the speeder.

“Master Dooku?” Kenobi whispers, horror growing. “No, no, I killed the--the Sith can’t--I killed the one on Naboo, and the Council mentioned the Rule of Two, but... oh hells.”

“You know him?” Jango taunts.

“He’s my grandmaster,” Kenobi says, and Jango can’t imagine the rest is meant to reach him, but the undercurrent is there.

Count Dooku is, by Mandalorian law, Kenobi’s grandfather.

Jango... suddenly feels a little regret about the taunting.

“I’d rather you feel regret about your children,” Kenobi snaps at him. “Every single one of them is a person, one that you chose to bring into this world, and they are your children.”

The argument is going in circles, but there are still places to take this.

“Your army is all adults, Kenobi,” Jango decides.

“They are ten years old,” Kenobi retorts. “Accelerated aging, sure, but they are children.”

“They’re soldiers.”

Disgust again, the same thing Kenobi has felt every time Jango has reasserted the purpose these children were born to, the same thing Jango has told his son, his sergeants, himself, for over a decade.

“A son?” Kenobi whispers. “Is your denial that strong, Fett? That you would claim one and not the rest?”

“Payment,” Jango says, and lets Kenobi feel the rest, since he seems so karking keen on it.

“Keeping one child in exchange for letting yourself be the creator of a slave army,” Kenobi says, and he doesn’t seem impressed. “Weren’t you a slave? Two years on a spice ship, wasn’t it?”

“Don’t you dare--”

“And you would put your sons in chains,” Kenobi hisses, hands going for Jango’s head again. It’s a sense memory, this time, of dark tunnels and exploding collars and a dar’jetii that... was his older brother. According to the Jedi way of thinking.

It’s a twisting fear and pain and I will die so that others may live while looking at an older man, a Master, who can maybe save the other slaves at the expense of one too-angry Initiate’s li--

“Get out of my head!” Jango roars, and he still can’t move his arms, and his legs are held down by the Force, but he twists his head to bite and Kenobi snatches his hands away.

Kenobi glares down at him, almost sneering with the amount of disdain he has for Jango’s general existence. “I’m your soulmate, and had we met fifteen years ago, I might have even thought that an alright thing... but whatever you are now isn’t something I can abide by. You won’t listen to morality, so let me say this instead: a Jedi does not kill an unarmed opponent, but I have full authority to arrest you, even here. I will take you back to the Republic, to be tried for your collusion with a Sith, and you will go to prison. You can try to run, but I am in your head, and you’re in mine. Once you’re in prison, what happens to your son?”

The implication is there, but even if it wasn’t, Jango hears the thought:

They’re soulmates. The Republic would place Boba with Kenobi.

He refuses to have his child raised by a holier-than-thou Jedi.

“Holiness doesn’t have any meaning in Jedi philosophy,” Kenobi says, relaxing just the slightest bit. “Other religions, yes, but no place in ours.”

“You’re a self-righteous bastard,” Jango says flatly. “Despite threatening a child.”

“You mean threatening to take custody of a child being raised in an unhealthy environment, one where he’s being taught to devalue his brothers, engendering a mental dissonance where he has to convince himself he’s special for a reason and that you won’t just drop him if he fails to be perfect?” Kenobi asks. “I prefer to keep children with guardians who love them, but the argument that he’s better off away from you isn’t a difficult one.”

“Oh, like a child-stealer--”

“My mother tried to drown me when I was a toddler,” Kenobi says, even flatter than Jango had been a minute earlier. “Because I was Force-Sensitive, and it was considered curse on my home planet. A Jedi saved me. Tell me that was a kidnapping and not being saved.”

Jango grinds his teeth. “You’re damned smug whenever you have some sob story that outranks mine.”

“This isn’t about who has the bigger sob story,” Kenobi says, and Jango can feel how he’s just as ready to start clenching his jaw to deal with Jango’s bullshit. “It’s about you doing your damned job as a Mandalorian and a father, and taking responsibility for your children. All three million of them.”

It really, really is a pity they didn’t meet before Jango took this job. They could have been great together.

As it is, Jango goes for the groin shot the second Kenobi lets him back on his feet.

[mrskurono]

Getou $75 slot fee??

A gamble....will it pay off?

$75 for the curse user and you won...curse sex with Getou!

tags: fem!Reader, brain worm!Getou, manga spoilers ish, noncon, bondage, drug mention, curse/demon/monsterfucking, unprotected sex, vaginal sex, rough sex, creampie

->Check out the other slot boys and girls <-

The union of curse and human had, intrigued, the age old being.

New vessel. New tools at their disposal. And a new precious idea to test out on an unsuspecting human.

Suguru bent down in front of your tear stained face and offered the same charming smile he had before his death.

But this time it wasn’t him who was smiling back at you.

“It’s my newest idea, made possible only by the wonderful workings of Mahito.” Suguru stayed knelt in front of you, “Perhaps, this is the key to humans and curses finally being one.”

“Suguru please-” Your voice cracked in your plea, “Please I know you’re in there. Suguru you can’t do this what about-”

“Are you still trying to reason your way out of this?” Suguru tapped the stitching on his forehead, “I’d save your strength for something else love. He isn’t helping you in this little porject.”

Before another attempt to grapple with the curse in your long gone lover’s body. Suguru snapped his fingers. A low creak of a door behind you. One you couldn’t exactly see from the position you were bound in. 

Strapped over a breeding bench like a common animal. Only your head could move to show you the horror of the mutilated body coming your way. Worse than that, were the drooling cock between it’s legs as it approached. Fear deepening in your gut. Renewing your struggle to be free. As futile as that was.

Suguru stayed knelt before you with that same endearing smile on the strangers face. Even as the monster mounted you. Sloppy, uncoordinated and erratic thrusts. Missing it’s mark half a dozen times as it prodded at your cunt lips. Slipped against your clit. Even grazed your ass. All before one chance of the draw it was able to bury itself deep inside your cunt.

Prepared for the pain of being penetrated, you screamed when it’s weight came down on your back and waited for the searing burn as it ripped your cunt. Inside, that never came. Replaced with a hip shuddering reaction the second the curse drove it’s cock deep against your cervix.

“Ahh, so the manipulation did work on you too...” Suguru tapped his bottom lip, “You’re wet as can be and taking it. This might work.”

Breathing made difficult by the weight of the curse on your back. And it’s insistent pounding away at your sopping cunt right in front of him. You couldn’t fathom any words. Instead your mouth just hung loosely open with drool dripping from your lips as your half lidded eyes followed Suguru’s form up as he stood.

“Oh, looks like you’ll be receiving your first gift.” He smiled. Unaware what he meant until it suddenly happened.

The warmth in your body put to the test when the monster slammed itself deeper into you. Undoubtedly feeling it in your belly as it rutted its cock against your cervix. Feeling like you were going to be split in half on this wretched bench you were strapped to. All of that to be washed away though with the first spurt of inhumanly hot cum to be deposited inside you.

Very much unlike a human though. When the ropes of cum overfilled your cunt and left your pussy dripping and drooling the messy mixture around the monster’s cock. The thrusts didn’t stop. Carrying on with their frantic power right through it’s first orgasm. Making your mind and body fuzzier by the second as it continued fucking you right through it all.

“I’ll come back in a few.” Suguru smiled down at his work. Human and curse. Just as he had always hoped it would be even if the sight was of his host’s only lover being violated by a creature only thought up in nightmares. He was brimming with pride over his work, “Make sure to me good use of that seed. Or we’ll have as many breeding sessions as it takes to create my world.”

[owo--bot]

Loyal as a dog

Chapter 32: The Dog Who Barks

Masterlist . AO3 .

wc // 9k

cw // cursing, fluff, dash of angst,

an // I dreaded uploading this on here, Tumblr mobile + long docs is just..

This will only hurt as much as you let it.

I'm an eccentric monster.

I shouldn't sleep next to pens.

Aluminum is my favorite metal. 

Lemon is my favorite scent. 

There are doves in my window

and a God at my door.

There are gods in the future,

and a God right next door. 

There’s a dog in my heart,

and I keep barking for more. 

There were some people in this world who, under no circumstances, should be asked; ‘are you okay?’ Primarily, the individuals with absolutely no control over themselves. Ignoring them at all costs would be of sound judgment.

Really, no one would think any less of you.

It might even lead to a spike in approval ratings. 

Namely, from the neighbors. 

“And then,” you wept, “and then,” you wept, “I,” you wept, “I,” you wept, “I called him a shit-head asshole,” you bawled, spilling over accordingly.

Forget about approval ratings, Chifuyu shot up to number one on your neighbor’s hit lists. 

Even if all he did was knock on your door, that meager action was enough to spark a one sided blood feud from hell. He could’ve knocked on any door in the world, but he had to interact with the one marked: don’t engage. 

Chifuyu broke an unspoken rule.

Now, a penalty of neighborly glares dwelled upon him.

Not that the opinion of those deadbeats mattered. Aside from not mattering, their wrath was as threatening as dust. Due to the routine endeavors of binge drinking, those deadbeats found themselves critically handicapped at the dawn of each new day.

And thus oozed with hatred for all things during daytime sobriety.

Just as they'd love them come nightfall. 

You could cry. 

Chifuyu could knock. 

Inevitably, they'd forget. 

Honing a falcon grip onto Chifuyu’s shoulders, your head drooped, as it could no longer withstand the weight of despair. Both parties stood just outside your door since it wouldn’t be much of an attraction if it wasn’t out in the open. Yes, the second story walkway acted as the perfect stage for broadcasting your distress to the mites below. Free admission came with an uneventful display, seeing as it took until now for you to perform a coherent sentence. Chifuyu, despite initiating the checkup, had been no more than an unspoken advisor to this teeming performance.  

In your line of emotions, there was no shortage of tears. 

You undoubtedly had the capability to drown the world if you wished to do so. 

Fortunately, for humanity's sake, that wasn’t a priority.

“Hey, it's not that bad.” Chifuyu awkwardly attempted to soothe you with a few pats on the head. “You've said a lot worse, so.”

“So?” Your head shot up. 

“So there's no need to worry about it.” He beamed in a manner that hinted his origin was actually that of the sun. “It's fine.” 

You felt touched well beyond any good reason. Yes, you saw the light!—until a pesky pest felt the need to stop blending in.

It was as if he sensed your fleeting joy and wished to neutralize it. 

Such was the nature of pests.

“Huh?” Sadness dissolved into vague hostility as you perceived the blonde intruder. “Where'd you come from?” 

Of bleached hair and eyes that avoided contact, he was coming up hot on the scumbag radar. While worms were one matter, this breed was another. No, no, not a roach. At least cockroaches had that spunky ‘we’ll never die!’ energy to them, so in this case, they were the superior nuisance. This guy, on the other hand, had a squishable presence. 

Truly, the worst category of pests. 

A larva. 

“Ah,” he 'ah'ed in a pesky fashion. “I've been here this whole time, but I guess I came from the stairs.” As if paying his respects to the superior pest, his gaze skittered around like a roach.

“Oh, I'm happy ya cleared that up.” Your expression softened. “So, you're just some creep whose creepy eyes can't decide on one creepy spot. Why creep up just one spot when ya can creep 'em all up, right?” The intensity of your presence hiked with every deliverance of 'creep', and it was only getting worse. “Yup. Creep to the creepo, I guess there's no shame in being a creep these days, huh?”

“Wait, it's not like that.” He waved his hands in front of his face spastically. “My name’s Hanagaki Takemichi and ah…” 

He fell flat on his face in the verbal sense. 

Lucky for him, he had the highest ranked support on standby.

“He's gonna get Baji back,” Chifuyu chimed in with an overwhelming recovery.

“Really?” Your warmth was damn near immediate. Raising either fist, you leaned forward in anticipation. “Ya really will?”

“Without a doubt!” he mindlessly fed into the tempo.   

You were an easily swayed creature.

It was like an infinite game of heads or tails, and tails just exhibited a triple flip to land on heads.

“I'll seriously love ya forever, Tameniki,” you said, switching up faster than a thought.  

“It's Takemichi,” he corrected. 

“Sorry, Tareiki.” 

“No… Takemichi.” 

“Tafumichi.” 

“...” 

“Nakemachi.” 

“You're doing that on purpose, right?”

“Doing what on purpose?” Tilting your head to one side, you pressed a puzzled hand to your cheek. “Damelichi?” 

“It's getting further…” His adrenalin was quickly wearing into nonexistence with each new adaptation of his name.

“Taketakemimichi?”

“Almost, just without the middle.”

“Hafunarahengaichi?”

“That one wasn't even…” His spirit progressively shriveled. 

“Ichi?”

“Good job.” Chifuyu patted you on the shoulder as an added bonus of reinforcement.

It was common knowledge that most people weren't born with bandages and splints. Yet, the blonde with an undercut sported both. 

How peculiar.

How very, very strange. 

What could it mean?

“Hmm.” Altering the direction of your focus, it finally registered the downright wretched state of your vice-captain. Wretched meaning beaten to a pulp and put back together with the peels. “Hey, didja get jumped Chifuyu?”

“Sort of,” he said in a wishy-washy manner. “But no worries, I took care of them.” 

“How very Chifuyu of ya.” 

“Right.” Accepting his name as a compliment, he continued on to separate matters. “Well, I mainly stopped by to make sure you weren't worrying too much. So, if you feel like worrying again, just remember that we'll have it handled before too long.” 

“Okay,” you said, with nothing but compliance. “I wish I could help but I’m not good with stuff like this.” Scrunching your brows, you looked at the vice-captain. “Thanks for doing all the hard stuff, Chifuyu…” You looked at the other guy. “Takomichi.” 

“C'mon, don't thank us yet,” Chifuyu complained through a chummy demeanor. 

“Right.” You nodded with a smile. “Well, I'll love ya no matter what, Chifuyu.” Looking back to the other blonde, you flipped the figurative coin back to tails. “Don’t mess up or I’ll hate ya forever, ‘kay?” 

“Yeah,” his response was nothing short of dead serious. “I promise I won’t.” 

“Don’t mess up or I’ll shave your eyebrows off, ‘kay?”

“...huh?” 

“Don’t mess up or I’ll rip out all your fingernails, ‘kay?” 

“—!”

In seconds flat, the third rate blonde looked to be visibly sweating. The rippling presence of a predator just had that effect on some people, except—not really. 

You, along with Chifuyu, only lasted a total of four seconds before bursting out in formerly restrained laughter. 

When it came to first impressions, your track record spelled out 'don't engage', in thick red ink. In that first initial stage, some unknown force drove you to be the absolute worst. Like a fundamental instinct, similar to how cats feel drawn to screw with anything that can’t kill them, not out of necessity, but just because. 

The same shouldn't apply to basic human interactions, yet here we are. 

It was such a foreseeable occurrence that even Chifuyu anticipated it. 

“My bad. Ya seemed super tense, so,” you said, offering something that made no attempt to resemble an apology.

If it resembled anything, it was a justification. 

“Was that supposed to make it better?” the person of many names breathed out. 

“Not really,” you admitted. 

“Sorry Takemitchy.” Chifuyu's laughter died out as he handed out an authentic apology, as well as a chummy pat on the back. “Well, at least you seem serious about this.”

Wrapping up with a few parting ‘goodbyes’, the rescue squad departed, and you stepped back inside. You had a dirty schedule today, aka helping an adult with adult matters. 

Yes, scum incarnate. 

In an odd hurry, you tended to the excess remains of food prep by escorting them to the trash. Yet, catching an unwanted glimpse of the cans' innards, a society of business cards waved hello. 

—you did a bad job yesterday.

-

One might think this scene was directed straight from a dump, a scrap heap even, but no. From the comfort of a dingy lot within a dingy complex, the ultimate scumbag reigned supreme. Battered in oil and whatever else, Mr. Scumbag wore his gross crown beneath a scrap of something that played make-believe vehicle. Meanwhile, you (unfortunately) crouched beside his greasy legs and waited for his (lack of) direction. 

“You alright kid? You haven’t threatened me today,” he asked, obviously high off of motor oil.  

“Oh. Right.” You took an exasperated breath. “I’ll key your car, something, something, hot-wire, blackmail.”

It was hardly an attempt.

You couldn’t be bothered with details.

Escaping from the underside of the car, Mr. Scumbag sat up, wiped some excess car residue on his pants for good luck, and then proceeded to focus all his filthy attention on you.

“C’mon kid, out with it. What’s wrong?”

Without an ounce of restraint you replied, “I was lost and got into the car with a bad person.” 

Who would’ve guessed scumbags could look uglier than their default model? Beneath a lifetime of filth, the muscles in Mr. Scumbag’s face tightened up, as if to make up for all the years he'd let himself go. 

Honestly, you weren’t sure what he was trying to do, but he should probably stop.

It looked painful.

“Did they do anything to you?” Mr. Scumbag pressed, exhibiting an intensity that threatened to singe every last filthy fuse of his ancient hardware. 

You shook your head, allowing Mr. Scumbag to take a much needed sigh. It was like someone held down the button to his power supply, because the short-term defect got fixed back to default. 

Not that it was much better (it was).

No matter the model, a scumbag’s still a scumbag, you just happened to have a preference. 

Resigning ‌all intensity, Mr. Scumbag continued, “why didn't you call me instead?”

“'Cos,” you said blankly, “ya don't have your phone number on a card.” 

“A business card?” 

You shrugged, raising your hands. 

Standing up, stained hands searched through stained pockets. After a bout of ruining already ruined clothes, he pulled out a card.

A folded and crumpled ‘business’ card smeared with oil.

Was he a hypocrite or what? The first rule was to wear gloves.

Reaching out, you accepted the oily token of business. As always, you could read the numbers, but kanji was still a work in progress. The fresh stain was likely his translation of ‘dirty deadbeat with a business for hire’. 

“I'm being serious now,” Mr. Scumbag said, marking now as a serious milestone. “Where are your parents?”

“On vacation.”

You needed a tape recorder for moments like these. 

Specifically, for Mr. Scumbag, since his memory couldn’t retain the answer.   

He shook his head, falling into a deep silence. 

Scumbags shouldn’t be left to think on their own. God only knows what they’ll come up with. 

“I know it won't do much good at this point, but.” He scratched his head. “I can take care of you until they get back. The other one too. It’d be better than having something like that happen again.” 

“Wow, ya finally went off the deep end, huh?” You asked, displaying the same authentic nature as a person who donates money to charity.

“Can’t say I wasn’t expecting something like that,” he admitted. “Well, if you ever change your mind, I’ll be here. Just make sure to call me if you need help, alright?”

“Got it,” you replied, though your spirit was still lacking. “I just remembered, I need help. So hand over all the dirty business money you've been hoarding.”

At this point, you just sounded bored.

A joyless endeavor of lame proportions. 

“Listen, I'm not hoarding money, so drop it already.”

“But you're working all the time. So, if you're not hoarding it, then ya must be spending it on sinful adult stuff.”

Mr. Scumbag opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out other than his faith for humanity.

“Whatever,” you said, up and ready to drop the eternal war, “I fold.” 

Fed up with crouching, you plopped down onto ever uneven asphalt and hit the GAME OVER screen. 

The world was a child and you were a roll of bubble tape.

There was no potential of forming a truce between those two. 

“Will you stop lookin’ so sorry if I explain it?”

Even if he was a spectator, Mr. Scumbag didn't want the game to end yet. He was shoving pocket lint into the coin slot as a last-ditch attempt. That was the kind of person he was, one who stuffed arcade games full of trash. 

That was what people did when they got to his age.

They came up with solutions that made no sense.

You really couldn’t get mad at him for trying.

“Dunno yet. Maybe? I can predict so little that ya might activate my thirst for world domination instead, but who knows?” You shrugged ambiguously. “It might be world peace.”  

“Not the answer I was looking for, kid.” 

“Well, if ya want someone to lie about the future, then go watch the news. I gotta preserve honesty, or whatever.”

“Can't say I believe that last part.”

“C'mon, stop holdin' out and cough it up already Mr. Scumbag.” 

“Alright, alright.” He crossed his arms and released a disclaimer, “just know that it's not as interesting as it is in your head.” 

Mr. Scumbag, a modest man.

—said no one ever.

“How sad,” you let out, guided by the hand of fraudulent exasperation, “I'm already way disappointed.”

In a dingy complex, in a dingy lot, a greased up middle aged man and a teenager occupied asphalt. Facing one another with legs crossed, both parties tuned out the passing gazes of those who weren’t invited to story-time-for-two. The environment was as immersive as it was inconvenient for others. It wasn’t actually inconvenient, but people, y’know? Either way those mites didn’t matter.

Oil was in the air and story-time commenced.

“Okay kid, lemme start by saying, all this we do on the weekends, I don't see a penny of it. The shop's a bit of a different story, but this profit here.” He banged on the death-scrap vehicle. “Isn't going into my pocket.”

“Did it grow legs? 'Cos I'm not buying it Mr. Scumbag.”

“No, it didn't grow legs, just hang on for a second.” He took a breath, well aware of the concentration needed to pull this off. “So, you know about my sister, right?” 

“Uh-huh. Ya ditch me some weekends to go watch her house and kid. She must be a real good person if she lets ya inside.”

“Nice way of putting it, but yeah. When she picks up overtime, I go and watch her kid. Pretty simple,” he explained. “Now, a while back, some scumbag went and robbed her place. It's not like she's rich or anything, but still, that piece of shit found the money she'd been saving. To make matters worse, it was supposed to be for the kids' college fees. The whole thing tore her up pretty bad, it was a damn shame.” 

His words came out as free and easy, yet emotion snuck out through a fine series of cracks. Leaking out through the ever merciless color, black; it looked like regret. While it shouldn't have bothered you, it did. Because even if adults were the worst, sometimes they were good people. 

Mr. Scumbag was a lot of things, but he wasn't a bad person. 

He was a good person. 

A really, really, really good person.

Bad things shouldn’t happen to good people.

And bad people shouldn’t exist.

“Geez, that's seriously messed up,” you said in disgust. “I mean, for you to say they're a scumbag, they gotta be the scummiest.” 

“Yeah, well, they still never caught the piece of shit. But either way, that's why we're here now.” He breathed out a conclusive breath. “I didn't want kids of my own, so I figured the best I could do was help hers have a good life. That’s how I got into doing these extra jobs on the weekend. I wanted to help my sis make up her losses, y’know?” 

“Oh. Weird. I guess I never would've blinked your way if ya weren't a weekend mechanic, huh?”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” He released a hearty laugh from his gut. “See what happens when you try an’ do something good?”

Yeah, you pick up a kid who’s keen on hot-wiring and blackmail.

It was as the saying goes; if you don’t want fleas, don’t go outside. 

He knew the risk.

“Not really, but hey.” The corners of your eyes creased as you flashed Mr. Scumbag your cheesiest grin. “If ya ever find out who did it, I'll beat 'em up for ya. On the house.” 

“Appreciate the offer, but I'd rather do it myself.” 

—huh? 

Was that your heart just now? If so, then why did it sound like it shattered? On second glance, what were those fragments sticking out of Mr. Scumbag’s hands? If you were in your right mind, you’d say it was your heart, but was it? Was that your heart? Was this his attempt at murder? Did he just try to kill you? 

No, don’t be silly. 

That was just how feelings worked. 

“I dunno why, but that denial kinda hurt Mr. Scumbag.”  

“Sorry kid,” he said, brushing off the anomaly with ease. “Well, I hope putting my family's dirty laundry out there got you back to the typical routine.”

By routine, he could've only meant spirited verbal assault.

Mechanic roughly translates to masochist. 

“Yeah, I dunno why ya thought that'd cheer me up, but at least I see ya in a new light, and that's-”

“Y'know, I'm gonna stop you while you're ahead.” He pressed his hands against the asphalt in an attempt to stand. “So, let's pick this up another time.” 

“Wow.” You beamed fluffily. “You’re way better at predicting the future than all those phonies on TV.” 

Making a handful of pained, yet overdramatic groans as he got to his feet, Mr. Scumbag took note, “I can't help but think that's the first time you directed something at me that wasn't an insult.”   

“Ya thought super well, but seriously.” Dialing back the banter for just a moment, you continued earnestly, “thanks Mr. Scumbag, and sorry about your sis. I bet she's a good person too.” 

Though your words were sincere, you tensed up as the recoil damage of embarrassment threatened to move in. 

You weren't ready to lie down and die in front of an adult just yet. 

Preemptively shutting down his chance to reply, your reflexes protected you from any real or imagined emotions that threatened to follow. “Don't respond,” you chittered in a torrential downpour of half-assed defenses. Armed with the intent of extracting yourself from the scene, you sprung to your feet. “Ever,” you specified, moving forward with a strategic retreat. 

Scampering off in a mad dash, you traversed the crumbling prison of asphalt to escape the scummiest adults' home field advantage. Ascending stairs that followed their own wobbly protocol, the repetition of each step clanked against metal; a song of rust declared the sensitive crisis as averted. 

It was a close call. 

The reservoir of embarrassment nearly got tapped for some masochist mechanic. 

It wasn't actually a big deal, but talking was just like that sometimes. You say things. Countless things. Expected things. Wholehearted things. While you say all these things, you don't always know how the other person might respond. 

And that was scary.

Unanticipated rejection was scary. 

The vulnerability of speaking one's truth was an unnerving force.

Yet you were glad you spoke yours. 

Even if it wasn't much.

It was something. 

-

Staring at the playing cards that spelled 'lose already', your mind drifted elsewhere. The day wasn't dead yet, and Sanzu came back earlier than anticipated, meaning yet another close call with watching the banned genre. There was something about the fear of getting caught that upped the overall quality of it. 

Funny how those things worked. 

Sanzu was paying as much attention to the game as you were, yet it came with the title of the best to win even while absorbed in television. The month of October was horror's best buddy, and in this moment, that was Sanzu's best buddy. Piercing screams came out as crackled, not that they were broadcast that way, but due to creative differences, the old-as-time television conveyed it as such. 

Media was one of a kind here, limited edition even. 

Watching the TV's portrayal of the program, Sanzu placed down another card, successfully cutting your likelihood of survival into whatever it was from the start, because at no point was the survival rating anything besides death: wait times may vary. Sealing the loser's fate, you placed another card and died accordingly. 

Your cheek slumped into the support of a loser's hand as you dwelled on a scary thought that wasn't horror. “Are dates only for people with money?”

Sanzu shook his head. “I doubt it. Money just makes it convenient.” 

“So that means we've gone on lots of dates, right Mr. Sanzu?” 

Through an always breezy gaze, Sanzu catered to cards of bent edges and scuffs, working them back into the deck. Placid in presence, your words weren't cause for a ripple or wave, but there was happiness in that which didn't change.

And Sanzu would always be the same.  

Even if he wasn't.

Pushing the remaining cards back into the deck, Sanzu offered a careless reply.

An utterly careless reply. 

“I guess.”

Expecting a dictionary of passive aggressive retorts as well as every term that opposed confirmation, the forecast for the day was flawed beyond recovery. 

Off guard and fizzing, playful tactics worked against you as you toppled into a blend of distress.

The loser's fate carried out its duty. 

“Hey,” you whined. “I’ll die if ya surprise me too much.” 

“Oh.” Sanzu blinked, not alluding to a microfiber of concern. “That's fine. What I meant to say was no, if I had to choose between going on a date with you or murdering everyone in this complex, I’d choose murder every time.” 

Honing an unphased presence meant nothing. 

Sanzu's eye to eyebrow ratio spoke in microfiber. 

Yet the malicious intent of his words transcended into a separate life-form.

A cosmic shadow swirled black.

“—kidding ♡,” you chimed. “And besides, do ya really think one complex is enough? I mean, eventually there wouldn’t be any left. So, you’d only be stalling.”

“I think the guilt would get to you before that point.” Pushing loose strands back behind his ear, Sanzu effortlessly dominated today's blonde lineup. “Well, Let’s go.”

“Go?”

“Ever heard of it, or should I explain?”

“Watch what ya say Mr. Sanzu, ‘cos if I fall for ya any more, it might get scary.” 

“And what part should I be watching?” Placing the deck of cards to the side, Sanzu humored you with judgment. “Honestly, if that's how you feel, then maybe I should take you to the hospital instead.” 

Delivering a scraping shriek against the floorboards, your chair propelled back, and you sprung to your feet as if reenacting the wake-up sequence of televised boot camps. 

It’s all fun and games until the hospital gets brought up.

Then it’s fear fueled submission. 

“I’ll follow ya to the depths of hell, really anywhere. Just don’t make me go to the hospital.”

“I’m happy to hear you think hospitals are more threatening than hell.” 

“Yup, it’s no good to be picky, so I only picked one.” 

“And which one was that? Negligence?” 

“Huh?” You tilted your head to a puzzled degree. “What made ya say that?”

“Because hospitals shouldn’t be your only concern,” Sanzu said. “But since you don't have an issue with it, I won't get in your way.”

“No worries Boss, I have loads of shady concerns, like Mr. Scumbag's apartment and the news HQ.” Your eyebrows knit apologetically. “Sorry, I didn’t want ya to think I was picky.”

“It’s not like it'd matter either way.” 

Did he say he was in love with you? Because that was how it sounded. 

All jokes aside, 'let’s go', was underway. 

A masterfully stuffed dresser fell to the mercy of Sanzu, who tried pulling out a singular article of clothing but ended up with a handful. The long-term effects of over-packing triggered the abused storage unit's wrath.  

A dresser's wrath wasn't all that intimidating. 

It was slightly irritating at most.

What was more irritating was the furniture industry. Yeah, the furniture industry. Those schmucks. Where did they get off thinking they could charge so much for a box? It was a slippery slope; once humans realized they could store clothing somewhere other than the ground, the furniture industry had already won. And now, in present day Japan, those schmucks want six months of rent for a box. 

Let that sink in. 

A box.

That’s the power we gave them. 

And now, formerly handed down thanks to the expiration of an elderly neighbor; the joint dresser had a workload of two. So, in regards to the clean clothes now on the floor, the fault fell on none other than those box hoarding schmucks. Maybe, if they weren’t an organization based off greed, that poor dresser wouldn’t need to spit up a spectacle of fabric every time an item was required.

Hardly sparing a glance at the scene of the crime, Sanzu scooped up the evidence and discarded it. Boxes, aside from their insides, have formidable outsides, primarily the backup storage of a flat surface. Unconcerned with the evidence's wellbeing, he tossed the evicted clothes onto the spot known as storage v2.

Tossed and then sorted. 

Wrinkles were an ally of scumbags, after all.

Besides the roaches deployed by none the ruler of filth himself, this was an anti-scum household.

Targeted by a fabric missile, you caught the pullover delivered via air mail. While you appreciated the present, it wasn’t necessary considering it was still warm outside. Maybe this was Sanzu’s way of saying ‘burn to death’. 

Putting on a display of question mark-esque confusion, Sanzu came prepared with period-esque answers.

“We’ll be gone for a while.”  

“Mmm…’kay!” 

Compliance turned into second nature once the whisper of a hospital entered the equation. 

The series of events that came next included bus stop to train stop forms of travel. Though remaining in the dark in terms of the destination, you could grasp minimal details. 

Far. 

It was far. 

Had you ever traveled this far? 

No, probably not.

But also—maybe? 

Who knows, you were a bad judge. 

Engulfing the sky in a sea of flames, sunlight glared through each window to cast shadows by your feet. The train huffed along, lacking interest in the scenery it passed along the way. 

Though you did the same. 

Occupied with interpreting the row of ads overhead, one depicted a popular makeup brand often featured on TV. 

Defined by flawless powders and contours, the models they used were always pretty.

You wanted to look like them one day.

Adults had it all, didn't they? 

Seated side by side, the duo played tug of war in the verbal sense as a woman's voice broadcasted any multitude of stops before Sanzu decided on one. 

You didn’t know where you were, and you didn’t care to ask. 

It was foreign and far. 

A part of you wasn’t sure Sanzu even knew where you were, considering the extent of wandering that’d taken place. Honestly, where the hell were you? This prefecture had so much space in between houses and structures, they must’ve all been sitting on some hefty coins by Tokyo standards. 

Not to mention the tree to tree horizon.

A truly intimidating sight. 

Man-made buildings were a known evil.

Trees were a natural one. 

From the perspective of someone who was directionally incompetent, it was a safe practice to never question those who were competent. Although, amidst this adventure, you’d seen a repetition of the same cat statue outside strikingly similar storefronts. Or the same one. Who could say? Obviously not you. 

���I wonder, are we lost?” You asked, attached to Sanzu’s arm. 

Don't get the facts screwed up. It wasn't out of fear of him leaving you here. That wasn't what any of this was about. Either way, you clung to him like a koala to a branch. 

“No. I’m not you,” Sanzu shot back, unable to reclaim his arm. 

“Right as always, Mr. Sanzu. I guess everyone around here must have the same taste in statutes, huh?” 

Sanzu ceased all movement. 

Looked to his left.

Looked to his right.

Recalibrated, then rerouted.

On the new and improved path of travel, the sights were essentially the same until a set of steps missing a step came into view—barely, thanks to the shedding aid of overgrown foliage. From the observatory glance of a professional, it led up into the woods. 

It wasn’t looking good for you. 

The only thing forests were good for was murder.

And nature walks, but meh?

Murder was a more interesting assumption. 

Well, it was as per the October spirit. 

At least it wasn’t a hospital. 

Climbing the questionable steps with fingers entwined in an ultimate knot, the bright side of this ordeal was you wouldn’t get left behind. Sure, Sanzu made a few passive attempts at pulling away, but if you were good at anything, it was clinging. His hand was at the mercy of a borderline threatening grip. Anything less than construction equipment or consent wouldn’t pry you off. 

Branching off this way and that, there were as many paths as a maze enthusiast could dream of. Though, of a maze of enthusiasts' nightmares, there were also occasional signs aiding with direction. Dead leaves crunched under your feet as you matched Sanzu's every step. Through a varying density of trees and plant life in their decaying stage, the duo strayed from the path into off the grid territory.

“Okay,” Sanzu said out of the blue.

He stopped, somewhere that looked identical to all the rest. A spot with barren trees and dried up leaves. The options were slim.

A.) He murders you here.

B.) He leaves you here.

C.) He already murdered someone here, and you were the cleanup crew.

D.) He wanted to make a leaf scrapbook.  

Freeing his fingers from the snake-like grip, Sanzu sat down near one of many trees, still withholding context. As always, you followed. Sitting down criss-cross in the grass, you faced your roommate and withheld all terror.

“You’ll get it soon, so just wait until then,” was the closest thing to an answer he’d give.

“Anything for you, boss,” you complied with a lack of judgment. 

Hanging around here until nightfall seemed like a downright awful idea, but that was looking like the plan of action. 

How terrifying. 

Without the guidance of eye offending, day even at night, Tokyo lights, this place would be as bright as a nightmare.

Maybe this was Sanzu’s sadistic side.

How dreamy of him. 

Romantic even.

Looking past the stunt they pulled yesterday, you set your sights on the heavens and bombarded them with a mantra of: make it something not scary. But harassing gods who harassed you offered no results. They were stingy in that sense. Which was most unfortunate, since answering was their only means to stopping you.

And not just any answer. 

It had to be something not scary.

If the reason you were here, even vaguely resembled scary, they’d gain a most irritating enemy. 

A spam pray-er. 

Awaiting a reply, you monitored their home. 

Each tree mourned for parts of themself that lay dead in the grass, but it was an essential sacrifice. Otherwise, the sky wouldn’t be the sky. 

It’d just be leaves. 

Yet thanks to the season ridding the visual obstacle of life from this place, you had a half-decent view. 

Twisted in nature, the moon approached to glorify the sorry state of a world below. While one forfeited its beauty, the moon bragged of its own permanence. 

A satellite had no way of empathizing with a planet, nor did it want to. 

Yet those of earth found brilliance in a rock, who disputed with darkness each night. They admired the proud being in its eternal pond, basked in white.

The moon felt loved in that way.

In all of its sameness. 

Setting the backdrop for a gleeful moon, the cool ombre of dusk seeped down its canvas. Though it started with lavender, it always ended in blue. 

But there was that which wasn't lavender or blue.

Subtle, yet to those accustomed to city nightlife, apparent. 

Brushstrokes that painted the moon mistakenly spritzed the echoes of its ink.

Faint glimmers of dust polluted the sky. 

Yeah, stars.

A handful, to be exact.

“Hey,” you said, though from your expression to your tone, both exhibited genuine concern. “What’s going on?” You asked, squishing your brows together.

“What part do you need me to explain?” 

“Not one. It's just—geez. I was super nervous this entire time.” Despite overcoming 'this entire time', your laugh still came out as high-strung. “I was so nervous that I probably woulda cried if ya made any sudden movements.” 

“Oh.” Sanzu blinked, yet a thought bubble seemed to pop as the nature of the situation dawned on him. “I guess that makes more sense,” he noted. “I thought it was about the weather.” 

“Nope.” You beamed in relief. “Purely fear.”

Sanzu settled on half a grin, as to avoid fanning the sadist flame too heavily. “At least you're true to your word.”

“Uh-huh, truer than true, so never make me go to the hospital.”

“Don't break any more bones and I won't have to.” 

“Can do Mr. Sanzu.” You smiled. “Also, sorry if I cry,” 

It was a preemptive apology. 

Doing so softens the blow of future impact.

Sanzu’s elbow settled upon his knee as his palm cushioned the weight of his face. Undisturbed in the present, his eyes gauged the future, along with every pattern of the past. 

“I'd prefer it if you didn't,” he said in an impartial tone. 

“But my appreciation comes out through my eyes.”  

“If you don't want to go to the hospital, then you should stop bringing up conditions that say you should.”

“I won't cry! I guess I'll say thanks through a confession of love instead.”

“Is not doing either of those out of the question?”

“Hmm…” You put miles of consideration into an answer. “Yep, way out of the question. The most I can do is hold 'em back for a bit.”

While you were at the mercy of expressing gratitude, the grandmaster of threats found a way to make you hold it back indefinitely without lifting a finger. 

—words were a powerful combatant.

And Sanzu excelled at making them into live bombs. 

Sadly, your emotions were the worst kind of final boss. They might take some time off, but they'd be back, buff and crazed on steroids. Be that minutes or days, who knows? The moral of the story was that even if the original villain to a franchise was the most successful, at some point they needed to stop coming back and hand off the baton. Though, if the baton merged with the villain, then that settles the nature of such affairs.

This was that kind of dilemma.

A solo villain production.

Nice and simple.

To be continued… (eternally.) 

Playing the waiting game came with nothing but rewards. Those dinky flickers at the start were nothing. The beginning was but a transitional tease of this sky's hidden potential. As the sun strayed to foreign lands, the glimmering of space mixed in with night.

Fear of the dark was in human nature, just as the fear of cities was in a star's nature. 

They couldn't coexist for reasons unknown. 

“I'm confused,” you said. “We can see them here, but not at home?” 

“Yeah. Apparently, this still isn't all that great,” Sanzu replied, downplaying the sight.  

“How?”

“I'm not sure, but you can see more depending on where you are.”

“What creeps,” you sniffled. “They should give everybody the same show.” 

Sanzu gazed at the figure who was currently laid out on the ground. The one who was unable to cast away the original villain at heart. The one who couldn't handle the task of not crying. Even so, you thought obscuring your face with a barricade of arms would do the trick. Laying back was an additional wall of out of view security. 

In practice, it was perfect.

“I'm not grateful,” you said, deploying the irrefutable excuse, “I'm just super mad.”

“Okay,” he answered the lie with downright, one worded compliance.

Even if Sanzu was the grandmaster of threats, he was hardly interested in upholding them all the time, or anytime. Arming him with a bad mood and words was a threat all on its own, so that counted for all the upholding he doesn't uphold.  

Rubbing your eyes free of any illegal emotions, you disposed of the person you were a few seconds ago.

“I'm lying,” you said, shooting up to reclaim your existence as someone who sits. “I wasn't really mad. I was way, way happy.” 

“Yeah. No shit,” Sanzu said, as mirroring scars reached with the curve of his smile.

“I guess I still got a long way to go before I'm skilled at secretly crying.” 

“Some goals aren't realistic for one lifetime.” 

“Oh no,” you exclaimed to an exaggerated degree. “How scary. I'm falling for ya more Mr. Sanzu.”

“Terrifying,” Sanzu said, not so terrified. 

His reactive levels were hit-or-miss today. 

But that was fine.

You were already dangerously happy. 

“Hey, hey, Mr. Sanzu. How'd ya know about this place?”

“I was here with Muto a few weeks ago.”

“Here?”

“Near here.” 

“To see stars?” 

“No, for something else.” 

“Oh… ya really like him, don’t ya?” 

“Yeah,” Sanzu's words were warm, “I do.” 

Sanzu liked Muto… you liked Baji. That's how things were. How they would always be. How they were supposed to be.

Your line of sight strayed back to the tourist attraction of twinkling heights. 

Outside of a city where stars couldn't reach, stars were a companion of night.

They could reach. 

New sights could bring about any number of reactions. One of the many was silence. Your words died out. After all, this wasn't artificial light.

That's why you grew silent. 

That's why. 

Yet, reading without words wasn't an exclusive art. Nor was it some hidden talent. It was simply knowing. Knowing, without understanding.

You still didn't quite understand, but. 

It was an awareness.

A god awful awareness.

“What’s wrong?” 

The graveyard of leaves crunched beneath your figure as they monitored your every movement. Crossing your arms, tilting to the left, then to the right, you pondered a catalog of excuses. 

“I can't stop thinking.” You paused and squinted, deciding to turn down routine evasion. “I’m a bad person.”

Lacking any sway in tone, Sanzu simply asked the question. 

“Why’s that?” 

“'Cos,” you said. “It’s the way I am. All I really do is rely on everyone else,” you couldn't get all the words out.

Some random guy said he'd get Baji back. 

Some random guy. 

He said so but…

Shit, what if-

While deconstructing on the spot would’ve been easy, other factors made it hard. Namely, Sanzu. The slightest touch was grounding as the hands you loved most cupped your face. If you had to interpret the meaning behind each callous, they'd say: we exist to be remembered. So even if you were up above the clouds, you’d know to come back to a feeling you knew. Driving your attention back to the center of the world, he leaned in closer. 

“Then rely on me.” Sanzu held your gaze and asserted, “just me.”

You stalled out and blinked, only for a grin to sprout on your face. “Yeah.”

Everything would go back to normal.

Everything would stay the same. 

Nothing would ever change. 

Never.

Drifting further into hands littered by scrapes and scuffs, they embodied the essence of something like love. From his fingers to his palms, they brushed against your skin and felt like love. Prominent scars embraced his lips and feathered lashes cradled his gaze, Sanzu was a delicate deity fixed on only you, and it felt like love. Existing as yourself, you didn't have to be anyone else, and it felt like love. Sanzu was a safety net who'd never fray, and that felt like love. Fueled by the desire to pour over with limitless devotion, it was love. 

It was only love. 

The desire to drown in love. 

To suffocate on love. 

To earn love.

Eventually, you'd figure it out. 

Disturbing the stillness, you spilled over affectionately. With the aid of knees and toes, you leaned forward, as greedy arms wrapped around his neck, welcoming arms wrapped around you. Resting your face over his shoulder, strands of blonde greeted your skin, as if to say ‘welcome back’. If you belonged anywhere, it was right here. 

You wanted it to be closer.

So much closer.

It was bubbling over; 

A love that could drown the sun. 

It was bubbling over and it felt close. It was so close to love. It was so close and he didn't deny your aim for more. No, he shouldered everything you were, because love felt so close. His fingers whispered over your spine, settling into the space between your shoulder blades. You were suffocating on affection, and love felt so close. His touch was reminiscent of home because home could travel, and it felt so close to love. 

It was so close. 

But you still couldn't reach.

Even so, you harbored enough love for the both of you. 

That would never change.

It made its way under your skin; that 'almost', had settled right in. And as he held you closer, you felt loved, no matter what it really was. Because after all, you wanted it more than anyone.

—love. 

Or anything that vaguely resembled it.

And well, you felt it in every flimsy bone.

—loved.

Well versed in the definition of his shoulders down to the outline of his spine, you read the parts of him that had no voice and memorized them beyond any brushstroke or word.

They spelled out the structure of the world.

The structure of the universe  

One you could touch. 

For not all humans met so many Gods. 

Not all humans got their attention. 

Not all humans felt the need to. 

Not all humans. 

Maybe it was just you.

If so, you were truly lucky. 

And for these emotions to belong only to you.

You were truly lucky. 

Relinquishing the best, you leaned back to give him room. Except, not quite. Tilting your face down was an action led by the help of your roommate. Following his every beat, anything he offered felt like love. The empty parts felt full. As Sanzu sheltered your cheeks, his hands acted as a placeholder, but that's where they belonged. 

And everything was okay.

Because there was only love. 

Fluid movements mimicked air as he drew closer, while gentle lashes carried the gaze of the world. He was all of everything, all of it pressed down into one, with pale blue fixed on you. Just you. Which emotion did they carry?

Affection. 

It was affection.

Close moved closer.

With a rising pulse, your heart dropped all prior ambitions and turned dead set on bypassing the restrictions of your chest. It played to a rapid tune, one that conveyed life and love and everything else. 

Planted to the space between Sanzu's legs, your fingers wrung out the fabric of his jacket.

Until you remembered how to breathe. 

This oxygen was the only source.

Clear and pure.

Tender as the autumn sun, Sanzu pressed his lips to your forehead. Distributing warmth, it felt like love. Only love. The desire to drown bloomed amongst the decay of life, so as he parted from your skin, you wanted anything else. Yet for reasons unknown, emotions always worked against you at times like these. A tenseness constricted your body, and contrary to the weightlessness of his movements, yours barely functioned as stiff. 

Peering into eyes struck by the moon, they swallowed you up in the same manner they always did. “You're freezing up again,” he murmured. “It's no different than any other time, yeah?” 

“Yeah,” you said, cracking a smile. “Right as always.” 

It was never any different. 

Because nothing ever changed. 

It was only ever the same. 

Tender fingers grazed over the nape of your neck as he pressed his forehead to yours. Fresh air untouched by the exhausts of humanity acted as a base for the near nonexistent fragrance of discount shampoo. Threads of blonde spilled over his shoulders as the accustomed scent turned potent.

It was a capability that only Sanzu possessed. 

Your gaze lingered over features he kept out of sight. Flawlessly cracked and marked for eternity, the past took to the image of raised flesh, and while you didn't quite get it, no matter how much our bodies loved us, they couldn't mask tragedy of that degree.

So, you had to surpass that love.

You cherished every inch that the body could heal, and that which it couldn't. You adored the version of him that he was, and the permanence of each part that'd never go back.

Even if you had to love those parts at a distance.

There was a certain stillness in quiet motions, as you ignored the persistence of shaky hands and instead closed your eyes to digest the only feeling that mattered. Searing every touch, every scent, every hushed moment deep within your memory, fluttering spilled from your stomach and melted through the earth's core. By now, your heart had surely blown straight through the confines of your chest.

Heightened states of emotion did that to a person. 

—panic that was pleasant.

The chill of his nose nudged against yours, yet his palms spoke of warmth. Sanzu conveyed the season through the surface of his skin. One that’d yet to be named. 

The season's name was change.

Gentle as the first breath of life, soft lips brushed over yours, as if to say they didn't solely exist to be on the receiving end of someone's fist. No, they didn't only exist to be split apart, because this felt mended together. Even if your skin was buzzing and you didn't have all the answers, you answered uncertainty with a definitive reply.

You were a creature of habit, but some habits needed to die.

Evasion had no home here.

Love could no longer rent out that space.

Even if it was for an old friend.

Even if, for once, evasion played no part. 

Abrupt as the departing breath of death, former gestures ceased to flow. The exaggerated nature of a moment pretended to be larger than it really was. In staying true to the divine nature of a God, the contact of his touch sustained the weight of a feather. In that sense, he was barely there from the start. A kiss that just barely existed. It was as if your skin turned into poison for him, or maybe it was that way from the start. Lips of who you knew best were at most an acquaintance and it seemed they would stay that way. 

Because fleeting as October leaves, his presence was by no means permanent.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, but the soft breath of his words drifted away from your skin as he leaned back.

Pale eyes swept up the moon and redefined its glow. An apologetic deity whose apologies came in the form of 'never' was renowned for his weightless presence.

But today he stitched lead into his skin.

In the spectrum of mortals, it was around now where you'd typically plummet into panic. 

But that wasn't it. 

Not now, at least. 

You were happy.

But emotions were never your strong suit. They knew how to bubble over, but they didn't know how to simmer. From your chest to your face, they were rupturing with affection, and you didn't know what to do with it.

You didn't know what to do with anything;

Never, not even once. 

So, it spilled out from your core.

You offered an embarrassed smile. 

An honest to god, embarrassed smile.

You felt loved.

Even if it wasn't love. 

Sanzu's gaze remained soft but the remnants of guilt were heavy, yet as always, fleeting. Shifting to something like boredom, he peered into the depths of a flustered existence. 

“Do you love me?” Sanzu asked in the same manner one asks for the time.

Slamming your hands down onto either thigh, you leaned forward with a fierce intensity. Through eye contact alone, it was as if you were looking through every living thing. As if staring straight through the world itself. His question required that level of presence. 

Offering a few enthusiastic nods, you replied, “more than anyone!” 

It was less of a reply and more of an outburst. 

Sanzu didn't seem disappointed nor pleased with your response. It was neutral. Sanzu remained as he was, with the same blades of grass beneath his fingertips. It was as if you'd simply given him the time, because that's what he asked. 

He was the breeze of the day, and you were a leaf. You'd whip through the air every second of every season if need be. 

“In what way do you love me?” He pressed further, yet his words upheld identical indifference. 

“The way that ends with us getting married.” 

“Why?” 

“'Cos you're you,” you answered, as if it were the most obvious thing, since it technically was.

“And if I looked like someone else?”

“I'd still love ya.” 

“And if I acted like someone else?” 

“I'd still, still, still love ya.”

“And if I was someone else?” 

“My love is a staple characteristic, it wouldn't go anywhere.”

“If that's the case,” he said, “then it could've been anyone, yeah?”

“No.” You frowned, almost offended. “That's wrong.” 

“But isn't that what you said?” Sanzu flew off in some god awful direction as he gave a voice to passive-aggressive tendencies. Sneering upon delivery, he almost looked amused, but that kind of smile was never reserved for anything good. “If I were someone else, you'd still love me. So, if that's true, then it has nothing to do with who. All that matters is what, where and when.”

“…”

“Well, was I right?” 

A critical stare tore into you. 

A blank stare stripped you of all liveliness. 

“Ya really want me to say it?” you asked, but the words hardly came out.

As if he were telling you to stab yourself, impatience was an answer resting upon delicate features. 

Your eyebrows furrowed with something like anguish as you opened your mouth to respond.

Right as always, didn't come out in its typical tune.

It could've been anyone, you affirmed

“You were just unlucky.”

The words were yours, but it didn't dull the blade. 

It sharpened it. 

“But,” you continued, “I'm happy you're you. Y'know? Like seriously, the happiest. So, don't hate me, okay?”

Saddled with the leftovers of lethality, Sanzu opened his mouth to speak.

But shut it down with a breath. 

No matter how escalated he may or may not have appeared, that energy had a short lifespan. Retiring the role of instigator, his gaze descended to the tide of dead leaves. 

“Yeah,” was his answer, but white words played in a puddle of mud. “I shouldn't have said any of that.” He yielded, “sorry.”

Your answer drew blood. 

It didn't take an idiot to see that much. 

But as much as you dreaded saying it, it was a trivial matter.

Something deep down, you already knew. 

Even if Sanzu assumed as much, confirmation to it was a different monster. 

Uncertainty solidified true.

Honesty that served no purpose.

You pushed it down. 

Down.

Down. Down. Down.

The past was fixed in permanence. 

And what ifs were better off buried. 

"It's okay Mr. Sanzu." You smiled and laid down, resting your head on his lap. “I'll always forgive ya no matter what. So never hate me, 'kay?”

“I won't,” said the upside-down blonde, though his conviction was as sound as silence. 

But that was just how he was.

It didn’t change the meaning. 

Pale flesh was molded from grains of starlight and a fluid moon. In spite of their origin, slender fingers enveloped those of a black hole. Pressing the essence of a different life into your skin, Sanzu filtered out the bad parts. The sun was devoured by a corrupted god of yesterday, yet this reality only knew the color white. 

“I love ya Mr. Sanzu, more than anyone.”

As if you'd ever let him forget, an amused breath escaped his lips. “I know.”

It was a law of the universe.

And he didn't reject it. 

As you kept your gaze fixed on the world above, you noticed it.

The sky was but a cheap imitation of the real deal.

“Stop staring at me,” Sanzu said to the sedated admirer.

Sadly, the real deal wasn't open to the idea of being watched.

With the same shit-eating grin as always, you replied, “my bad.”

And while you weren't supposed to stare, it was hard to look away. 

Fragrant as a camellia and unguarded as their growth.

You saw it. 

At least for the moment. 

He learned how to breathe.

[poppystain]

SENTENCE  STARTERS :  THE  INVISIBLE  LIFE  OF  ADDIE  LARUE  BY  V.E.  SCHWAB 

PART I: THE GODS THAT ANSWER AFTER DARK

❛ don’t you remember when you were nothing but shadow and smoke? ❜

❛ darling, i was the night itself. ❜

❛ some days you’re stuck with what you’ve got. ❜

❛ heaven is a nice spot in the shade, a broad tree over my bones. ❜

❛ spells are for witches, and witches are too often burned. ❜

❛ never pray to the gods that answer after dark. ❜

❛ i am always with you. ❜

❛ am i the devil? or the dark? am i a monster? or a god? ❜

❛ i do not want to belong to someone else. ❜

❛ i want more time. ❜

❛ are you a stranger or a spirit? ❜

❛ you wanted to be free. ❜

❛ it is a lonely thing to be forgotten. to remember when no one else does. ❜

❛ how do you walk to the end of the world? ❜

❛ come live with me and be my love. ❜

❛ you do not know what love is. ❜

❛ if you sold your soul for one thing, what would it be? ❜

PART II: THE DARKEST PART OF THE NIGHT

❛ you are entirely hopeless. ❜

❛ this, is a story of gods. ❜

❛ drink with me. ❜

❛ if a person cannot leave a mark, do they even exist? ❜

❛ with time, you can get used to anything. ❜

❛ you can have my life when i am done with it. you can have my soul when i don’t want it anymore. ❜

❛ you will give in, soon enough. ❜

❛ water me, and watch me bloom. ❜

❛ they say people are like snowflakes, each one unique, but i think they’re more like skies. some are cloudy, some are stormy, some are clear, but no two are ever quite the same. ❜

❛ i am not yours. ❜

❛ am i the devil, or the darkness? ❜

❛ stop pretending you did me a kindness instead of a cruelty. ❜

❛ you have grown teeth. ❜

PART III: THREE HUNDRED YEARS — AND THREE WORDS

❛ i was thinking, that it must be so easy to be a man. ❜

❛ there is something timeless about you. ❜

❛ i thought you were a new yorker. ❜

❛ do you ever feel like you’re running out of time? ❜

❛ it did not feel like courage, it felt as if i had no choice. ❜

❛ do you think a life has any value if one doesn’t leave some mark upon the world?❜

❛ i think there are many ways to matter. ❜

❛ i know your heart, dear. i feel when it falters. ❜

❛ i am the night itself. i see everything. ❜

❛ you thought i would wither without your attention. ❜

❛ would you rather feel nothing or everything? ❜

❛ i thought you had better things to do than plague me. ❜

❛ you’re being an ass. ❜

❛ he’s still in love with you. ❜

❛ but i can’t love him back. ❜

❛ without me you will always be alone. ❜

❛ are you still drunk? ❜

❛ don’t forget me. ❜

PART IV: THE MAN WHO STAYED DRY IN THE RAIN

❛ time moves so fucking fast. ❜

❛ you’re not enough. ❜

❛ we can’t help who we fall in love with. ❜

❛ pain can be beautiful. ❜

❛ i am the one who sees kindling and strokes the flame. ❜

❛ i can look at you and see you as you are. ❜

❛ you look like shit. ❜

❛ my little storm cloud, don’t let it get too dark in here. ❜

❛ come home with me. ❜

❛ god, it feels good to be wanted. ❜

❛ don’t get me wrong. you’re cute. but i’m still a lesbian. ❜

❛ the question is simple, what do you want for yourself? ❜

❛ you are impossible, a paradox, a collection at odds. ❜

❛ they look at you and see whatever they want… because they don’t see you at all. ❜

❛ what do you see in me? ❜

PART V: THE SHADOW WHO SMILED AND THE GIRL WHO SMILED BACK

❛ and you think me the devil, now? ❜

❛ say the word, and i will lay my soul bare before you. ❜

❛ you do have a way of finding trouble. ❜

❛ humans are so ill-equipped for peace. ❜

❛ are you not a god of chaos? ❜

❛ i am a god of promise. ❜

❛ do not mistake this kindness. ❜

❛ i simply want to be the one who breaks you. ❜

❛ i do what i have to, and it’s not always nice, and it’s not always fair, but it’s how i survive. ❜

❛ i can be wild. i can be stubborn as weeds, and you will not root me out. ❜

❛ we are not so different, are we? ❜

❛ i have seen your truest form. you cannot scare me now. ❜

❛ in the end, everyone wants to be remembered. ❜

❛ i am a muse and you are a thief. ❜

PART VI: DO NOT PRETEND THAT THIS IS LOVE

❛ i know i can be cruel but nature can be crueler. ❜

��� you know how to summon gods. ❜

❛ who knew gods were so nostalgic? ❜

❛ you have not been human since the night we met. ❜

❛ i would rather be a ghost. ❜

❛ have you missed me? ❜

❛ immortality breeds a high tolerance for risk. ❜

❛ there are things worse than death. ❜

❛ i want you. i have always wanted you. ❜

❛ will you vanish with the sun? ❜

❛ how often did you think of me? ❜

❛ you are not capable of love. ❜

❛ love is hungry. love is selfish. ❜

❛ do not pretend that this is love. ❜

❛ dance with me. ❜

❛ stay with me, i’m here. ❜

❛ i am tired of losing. tired of mourning everything i try to love. ❜

[shurelyasreverie]

Ghsgfhf sorry idk valorant, but if you like could you do smth for yone? Maybe when he's all azakana-ified and goes to see reader? Thx :-D

No problem! Sorry for the unexpected semi-hiatus, if you wanna know why I just disappeared I can only best explain it here. Thank you so much for your patience!!

Yone x Reader: Spirit Fighter

The invasion of Noxus created the perfect breeding grounds for the azakana to prey on Ionia's fallen warriors. In your darkest time, who will save you from your own demons?

Word Count: 1373

Warning: Violence and mentions of death

In your time as a blade wielder from one of Ionia's most reputable sword schools, you had fought many demons. You learnt that they took all sorts of shapes and sizes. You fought the lowly criminals that preyed on the weak, you fought demons in the most literal sense of the word that dared step foot out of the spirit realm. You fought the demons that came as Noxians that tore your beautiful village and comrades to shreds.

But you never thought that you would fight demons of your own.

Your back slammed into a wall, the back of your head also hitting it, the pain making you both numb and delirious. Collapsing to the floor, you heard the faint clatter of your blade as it fell from your grip. Trying to haul yourself up, you were pushed down by the crushing weight of a demon, it's talons digging into your shoulders and slowly piercing your clothes and skin. You didn't have the energy to scream. You freed your head, angling up so you could see the distorted silhouette of your azakana through your blurred vision.

You feebly struggled as you lost feeling in your body. Your energy was being drained out of you, the azakana eating the very essence of your soul. You willed your body to keep moving, yet you couldn't sense if it was. You fought against the whispers of the demons as it recited your regrets and insecurities, it had your soul in your clutches, it saw everything you saw for the past weeks. It saw the bloodshed as you clashed against invading Noxians, the bloodied body of your fallen elder, the glazed eyes of your fallen comrades. But it also knew what you felt. It felt your regret of being unable to do more, the regret of being unable to protect your lover from his own demise, the yearning to see your lover again. You couldn't protect any of them and the demon amplified the pain.

You only had enough energy for one last sign of life. As you struggled to even breathe, you choked out a sob as you closed your eyes, succumbing to the darkness, only hearing the cackle of the demon.

Silence. Nothingness. Oblivion. Was this what awaited a soul that wasted away to an azakana?

A piercing screech stirred you awake, followed by a desperate cry to your name. Every muscle holding a heaviness that made you unable to even open your eyes, you could only listen and feel. Feel the warmth of your own blood staining your clothes, listen to the cries of pain from the demon. You could hear the faint slashes of a blade as it cut through the air before cutting through flesh. With every demonic scream, strength was returning to you. First, you could open your eyes, with the second you could breathe as comfortably as your injured self could. Third, you were hauling your tired body back onto your knees.

You could take a look at your saviour, a lean figure that cut down your azakana. He adorned a blood red mask that obscured his face but with his dual-wielding blades, you knew only one who could fight like that. You've sparred against it for years, a style that made your weak heart soar.

“Yone,” you croaked, the constricting feeling around your heart finally lifting. In response, the masked man snapped his head to you, nonchalantly driving his blades behind him into the demon.

The azakana collapsed to the ground. Yone hurried to your side, picking up your fallen blade and pressing it's handle into your palm. Your fingers instinctively wrapped around it.

“Only you can slay your own inner demon,” he stated, breathing quick and words hurried. You looked over his shoulder to see the azakana, it's torso noticeably rising and falling as it breathed. A bandaged arm wrapped around your back to usher you to the demon and to also support you as you staggered. Step by step, he guided you to the amalgamation of your suffering, a dark, writhing mess on the ground. His hand was over yours, holding your blade with you, offering you his strength. Despite how cold his presence felt, it was comforting as you drove your blade into the heart of the monster.

When the demon stilled, Yone guided the blade back to be sheathed by your hip before gently turning you to face him. His hands were now on your shoulders, gentle enough to not provoke your injuries but tight enough to be sure that it was indeed Yone before you.

He spoke your name quietly, bringing a hand up to wipe tears you hadn't realised had fallen. A wave of exhaustion overwhelmed you and you fell forward, collapsing onto his chest which he readily accepted, arms comfortingly around you.

“We thought you had died,” you whimpered. You felt his lips pressed against your cheek, then more kisses up to the crown of your head, his mask nudging against your temple. He felt changed, colder, holding a quiet strength a normal mortal wouldn't. But he also felt so familiar, how nurturing his hold felt, how you felt so protected despite being inches away from death a mere moment ago.

“I did,” he replied, you were surprised he even heard you. “But my duty to protect this land is not over. It will take more than death to take me away from the material world. Away from you.”

You pulled your arm up, tentatively reaching for his mask. You wanted to see his full face again, in all his glory. But his eyes widened, tilting his head down in shame when he realised what you were trying to do.

“It won't come off,” he said bitterly. “It is the work of the azakana. This realm is becoming rife with them.”

You felt his hands trace over your injured back and he grimaced. “An azakana's strength relies on pain and sadness... the invasion of Noxians makes it ideal for the demons. These days have been cruel to you.”

“Ever since you left,” you admitted. “The village is in shambles. It was so hard...”

Adrenaline was leaving your body, leaving you aching and your wounds stinging. You couldn't help but lean into him more, reassured by his heartbeat in your ear, the rough material of his bandages against your skin. His arms were tightening around you, almost lifting you up.

“We must get your wounds treated,” he stated. “Then you should return to the sword school and rest.”

“Where will you go?”

“I must slay the demons,” Yone muttered. “Every last one of them before they harm anymore innocent souls.”

A hand tilted your head up to face him as he searched your features. Through the mask you could see how solemn his expression was, almost distant. He pressed you closer to him, feeling his muscles tense. “Victims of the azakana suffer a fate worse than death. If I was any later to find you I would've-”

“But you weren't,” you reassured. “You saved me.”

“And I'll do it as many times as I must,” Yone replied. “For you and Ionia.”

“You don't honestly expect to do that all yourself. Take down all the azakana? Let me help you,” you volunteered.

“With those wounds?” Yone sounded almost angry.

“These wounds are temporary. When they're healed, I want to be by your side.”

Yone was silent, the only sounds being your footsteps. As much as it was your duty to protect Ionia, the way his lips were slightly curved down displayed his reluctance for you to take your duty so seriously.

The wind picked up and Yone straightened, his head taut like a hound detecting a threat. You wondered if your lover, changed by the demon mask, was able to sense the azakana, if he was connected to them. His gaze was distant for a moment, until you took his hand and squeezed. He dropped his head to look back at you, his face softening. “Two humans against an entire race of demons. The odds are stacked against us, but I'll willing to take them if it's with you.”

[inukag-archive]

Hello! I’m looking for recommendations for a particular trope/genre: Feudal Era AU as @superpixie42 would say. Fics that are Canon-era (Inuyasha-world without Inuyasha plot) but are not quite canon-divergent or fix-it? I’m thinking along the lines of Out of The Woods (Miss_Dyana), Kintsugi, If We Fall Anyway (both Evilillusions), for example. Any other genre/rating is good. Thank you! 💓

Hey @anisaanisa, it's no secret this is one of Mod Pixie's favorite AUs, so thank you for the chance to put this one together!

Shelter by @lavendertwilight89 (E)

Summary: Song fic inspired Stuck with You and Shelter. Inuyasha has been alone most of his life and one moonless night he gets caught up with a young priestess. She saves him and he, in return, helps her. What he doesn't realize is, this priestess holds a lot of secrets which may or may not cost both of them their lives... 

--

Demon Nature by @shardetector (E)

Summary: He spoke low and gently, although his voice was gruff with his demon still so close to the surface, “You saved me wench, now I’ll repay the favor.” With that, his muscles bunched in his legs as he sprung up and out of the well, a red blur in the night as he made his way through the forest to his destination. His precious cargo held safely to his chest, as he raced to save her with his demonic speed. 

--

there's no place (for us/like home) by guardianKarenterrier (G)

Summary: Slowly, excruciatingly slowly, Inuyasha starts to creep closer to the fire at night. Now that he's not so injured, he's begun to vanish into the woods and come back to throw down rabbits and once a badger at the side of the hut, and Kagome hasn't had to worry about finding enough to eat as the air starts to turn colder. He hardly ever talks to them, or at all, and he won't come close enough to touch- he never comes as close as he had that first day again, but he stays. She's not sure why he stays, but she's glad that he does. 

--

Comfort Food by @splendentgoddess (E)

Summary: Feudal AU one-shot. An ex-miko-in-training stumbles upon a seemingly human man alone in the woods during the moonless night. He seems all alone in the world - just like her. Goodness, when was the last time he had a decent meal? 

--

Half-Breed’s Wife by @gypsin (M)

Summary: On the night of the new moon, a runaway girl stumbles into Inuyasha's life. Little did he realize then what he would be undertaking by saving her. But when Kagome has nowhere else to go will he leave her to her fate Or will he rise to the occasion? And what will the humans think? 

--

Your Lying Smile by @dawnrider (M)

Summary: A beautiful day by the river quickly takes a turn, taking control of her life completely out of Kagome's hands. Her "rescuer" becomes something else entirely before she can get a word in edgewise. A Feudal-esue AU 

--

We Are Family by @theladyofthewest (T)

Summary: Imagine a world in which the Inu No Taisho lived to raise his sons together, as brothers. Inuyasha never had to learn to survive on his own, he never met Kikyo, never heard of the Shikon Jewel. Now imagine if Kagome fell into this world instead of the one she did in canon. Imagine if she and Inuyasha had ... parental supervision. 

--

Oblivion @meggz0rz (M)

Summary: Feudal-era Japan. A war to the death between youkai and humankind. Kagome, rebellious daughter of a noble family, is not about to let her grandfather sacrifice himself in battle. So she takes his place, dressed as a boy and ready to fight to survive. But in love and war, things are rarely as they seem, and there is a spy in the army ranks who just might be Kagome's downfall... 

--

Everybody Wants To Be An Inuyoukai by @superpixie42 (T)

Summary: A birthday one-shot for kstewdeux very vaguely based on the plot of the Aristocats. When Kagome, newly widowed with a newborn son, is named the heir of her mother-in-law's enormous estate things suddenly go from bad to worse. She's drugged, kidnaped, and left for dead on the side of the road. With the help of some unexpected new friends, Kagome finds herself questioning: does she even want to make it back home? 

--

The Shogun’s Daughter by @shnuggletea (E)

Summary: Kagome's father passed away when she was just a child but his Shogun status still makes her a valuable bride to a Lord of lands that border their village. Lord Inuyasha Tashio is pushed by the council into marriage, assured his new bride was an excellent choice. All their fears and anxiety are amplified when they meet. 

--

Timeless and Forbidden Love by lunalibro (M)

Summary: Once, a long long time ago in Japan, demons and other horrid monsters out of nightmares roamed the lands. Wars were never-ending, famine, death and bloodshed abound. Admist this chaos, there lived a great priestess named Midoriko who was renowned throughout for not only her incredible power and fighting prowess, but also for ethereal beauty. She defeated countless demons and staved off many dark evils as the protector of humankind. Eventually, Midoriko fell in love and birthed twin daughters. The eldest was named Kikyo and the youngest was named Kagome, While alike in looks, the sisters were complete opposites. Naturally, these girls inherited their mother’s immense powers. From a young age, Midoriko trained them in combat and in the spiritual arts. The sisters grew in strength and looks. However, Kikyo’s powers had matured far greater than that of her sister’s. Midoriko decided Kikyo shall be the one to take her place as the new protector of Musashi. From then on, Kagome would find herself living in her sister’s shadow. Maybe with the help of a young half-demon named InuYasha, Kagome could realize her worth and possibly fall in love in the process. A forbidden love that will last throughout time. 

--

Beauty and the Hanyou by mishelledor23 (M)

Summary: Inspired by Beauty and the Beast, but Inuyasha style! The terrible half-demon prince Inuyasha is under a fifty-year old curse that keeps him trapped inside his castle. Can Kagome, the reluctant miko-in-training become his friend? Maybe even his love? InuXKag, MirXSan. Lemons and language in later chapters! 

--

For Better or Worse by Anime Wildfire

Summary: Kagome, priestess in training, turns her life upside down when she saves the life of the half demon Inuyasha… and accidentally finds herself bound to him via pesky subjugation beads. This is not how she thought her day- or her life- was going to go.

--

By the Match, Not the Flame by @goshinote (M)

Summary:  Inuyasha is a hellbent hanyo on a mission for revenge. Kagome is a wanted miko on the run. Their intentions align in more ways than one, but secrets abound between them as they partner up during their travels. With an inevitable and impending betrayal looming over them, the pressure rises with every day they spend moving closer to the enemy’s clutches.

--

A Private Affair by JeremyMarsh (T)

Summary:  During a simple patrol operation, Inuyasha, a general in a war between demons and humans that has been going on for two years now, goes all the way across enemy territory to reach the village where his betrothed lived before the conflict broke out. Here he is discovered by her younger sister who intentionally reveals something to him that she shouldn't have.

Shocked, Inuyasha decides to embark on a new and dangerous mission that could cost him his life or worse.

--

Koi no Yokan by @keichanz (E)

Summary: Koi no Yokan: The feeling when you meet someone that you’re bound to fall in love.

A prince discovering a deeper meaning to seemingly random hordes of bloodthirsty demons. A young woman unwillingly sold to a brothel by uncaring relatives, frightened and alone. How could these two circumstances possibly be related?

We are also including the works Anisa mentioned in the ask for those who are unfamiliar

Out of the Woods by @dyaz-stories

Summary: After the murder of Kikyo, the local priestess, the villagers start leaving offerings to the forest's god, who they think they've angered. Kagome, called to the village to replace her cousin, finds out, too late, just how far they're willing to go when they use her as the month's sacrifice. She decides not to go down without a fight — except that, instead of an angry god, she finds herself faced with a hungry half-demon, who's very annoyed he won't be getting a food offering for the month. “What the fuck are you doing here? Where’s my food?” “Oh I’m sorry, am I not a sacrifice satisfying enough?” 

--

Kinstugi by @soliska

Summary: AU. Failing to be chosen as her village's miko, Kagome had resigned herself to a humble life. An unexpected summons returns her to the city where she's forced to reconcile the taught virtues and the spiralling, warped reality created by those that abuse their power. She holds the key to repairing the fracture between humans and youkai, and the freedom of her new hanyou friend.

--

If We Fall Anyway by @soliska

Summary: What if the shikon jewel didn’t exist and Naraku never came to be? What if Kagome fell down the well anyway and met a gruff, young inu-hanyou. Would they still become friends? What would be their story? A tale told in snippets. 

[bamf-jaskier]

What the fuck are the Trials

Since the show is based on the books and not the games, and more people are more familiar with the games that the books, I thought it might be helpful to sort of officialize the posts I’ve done about specific topics in the books. 

Here are the previous posts on Triss&Geralt as well as Coën

TLDR: So looking at this process, according to the books the way a Witcher becomes, well a Witcher looks like this:

There is the Choice which is the decision to become a Witcher made when you are a child

Eat a lot of magic mushrooms that give you the strength and ability Witchers are known for

Then the Trial of the Grasses which is a concoction of mutagenic elixirs injected into the bloodstream which mutates you into a Witcher

Then finally there are the Changes. This is a big step and one that requires a mage. This is when the hormones are changed and a Witcher becomes permanently sterile

then there is training until you earn your medallion and BOOM, out onto the path with you

Now, have a post about what the trials are as far as the books are concerned

It’s important to note that in the books, The Witcher are a dying breed so the Trials are really only mentioned in Blood of Elves when Ciri trains with the Witchers and the two prequels, Sword of Destiny and The Last Wish. 

Let’s start out with the basics of the Trials, here is a passage from Blood of Elves where Triss is wondering why the Witchers at Kaer Morhen are being so secretive in regards to Ciri:

“It’s obvious. They want to mutate the child, subject her to the Trial of Grasses and Changes, but they don’t know how to do it. Vesemir was the only witcher left from the previous generation, and he was only a fencing instructor. The Laboratorium, hidden in the vaults of Kaer Morhen, with its dusty demi-johns of elixirs, the alembics, ovens and retorts… 

None of the witchers knew how to use them. The mutagenic elixirs had been concocted by some renegade wizard in the distant past and then perfected over the years by the wizard’s successors, who had, over the years, magically controlled the process of Changes to which children were subjected. And at a vital moment the chain had snapped. 

There was no more magical knowledge or power. The witchers had the herbs and Grasses, they had the Laboratorium. They knew the recipe. But they had no wizard.”

Later:

“And now they want to mutate the girl but can’t. And that might mean… They may ask me to help. And then I’ll see something no living wizard has seen, I’ll learn something no living wizard has learned. Their famous Grasses and herbs, the secret virus cultures, the renowned, mysterious recipes…”

Now, what Triss doesn’t realize is that Geralt and the others are not planning on subjecting Ciri to the trials at all but are instead trying to hide Ciri’s magical ability from Triss. They are worried she will report them to the Chapter. 

Of course, until they tell Triss this, she is deeply suspicious and goes on to talk about the mushrooms Witchers have access to which are extremely unique. 

“Of course, thought Triss. They’re feeding her those legendary cave saprophytes – a mountain plant unknown to science – giving her the famous infusions of their mysterious herbs to drink. The girl is developing quickly, is acquiring a witcher’s infernal fitness. Naturally, without the mutation, without the risk, without the hormonal upheaval. But the magician must not know this. It is to be kept a secret from the magician. They aren’t going to tell me anything; they aren’t going to show me anything.”

Later:

“I don’t give a fig for your trust, witchers. There’s cancer out there in the world, smallpox, tetanus and leukaemia, there are allergies, there’s cot death. And you’re keeping your “mushrooms”, which could perhaps be distilled and turned into life-saving medicines, hidden away from the world. You’re keeping them a secret even from me, and others to whom you declare your friendship, respect and trust. Even I’m forbidden to see not just the Laboratorium, but even the bloody mushrooms!”

Triss as a mage has extreme bias against the Trials and for good reason! Most of the populace doesn’t have access to any information on the Trials outside of vague ideas but Mages have access to first hand accounts such as this from Blood of Elves: 

“On the third day all the children died save one, a male barely ten. Hitherto agitated by a sudden madness, he fell all at once into deep stupor. His eyes took on a glassy gaze; incessantly with his hands did he clutch at clothing, or brandish them in the air as if desirous of catching a quill. His breathing grew loud and hoarse; sweat cold, clammy and malodorous appeared on his skin. Then was he once more given elixir through the vein and the seizure it did return. This time a nose-bleed did ensue, coughing turned to vomiting, after which the male weakened entirely and became inert.

For two days more did symptoms not subside. The child’s skin, hitherto drenched in sweat, grew dry and hot, the pulse ceased to be full and firm – albeit remaining of average strength, slow rather than fast. No more did he wake, nor did he scream.

Finally, came the seventh day. The male awoke and opened his eyes, and his eyes were as those of a viper…”

~Carla Demetia Crest, The Trial of Grasses and other secret Witcher practices, seen with my own eyes, manuscript exclusively accessible to the Chapter of Wizards

When most people think of the Trials, they are thinking similarly to Queen Calanthe in Sword of Destiny. 

Here is what Calanthe says to Geralt when talking about what he might do with his child surprise: 

“You are astonished,’ she stated. ‘Well, I’ve studied a little. Since Pavetta’s child has the chance of becoming a witcher, I went to great pains. My sources, Geralt, reveal nothing, however, regarding how many children in ten withstand the Trial of the Grasses. Would you like to satisfy my curiosity in this regard?’

‘O Queen,’ Geralt said, clearing his throat. ‘You certainly went to sufficient pains in your studies to know that the code and my oath forbid me from even uttering that name, much less discussing it.’

Calanthe stopped the swing abruptly by jabbing a heel into the ground. ‘Three, at most four in ten,’ she said, nodding her head in feigned pensiveness. 

‘A stringent selection, very stringent, I’d say, and at every stage. First the Choice and then the Trials. And then the Changes. How many youngsters ultimately receive medallions and silver swords? One in ten? One in twenty?”

Later Calanthe asks Geralt:

“Do you believe a Child of Destiny would pass through the Trials without danger?’

‘We believe such a child would not require the Trials.’

‘One question, Geralt. Quite a personal one. May I?’

He nodded.

‘There is no better way to pass on hereditary traits than the natural way, as we know. You went through the Trials and survived. So if you need a child with special qualities and endurance… Why don’t you find a woman who… I’m tactless, aren’t I? But I think I’ve guessed, haven’t I?’

‘As usual,’ he said, smiling sadly, ‘you are correct in your deductions, Calanthe. You guessed right, of course. What you’re suggesting is impossible for me.’

‘Forgive me,’ she said, and the smile vanished from her face. ‘Oh, well, it’s a human thing.’

‘It isn’t human.’

‘Ah… So, no witcher can—’

‘No, none. The Trial of the Grasses, Calanthe, is dreadful. And what is done to boys during the time of the Changes is even worse. And irreversible.”

Later:

“The risks are too great,’ Geralt said quickly. ‘As you said. At most, four out of ten survive.’

‘Dammit, is only the Trial of the Grasses hazardous? Do only potential witchers take risks? Life is full of hazards, selection also occurs in life, Geralt. Misfortune, sicknesses and wars also select. Defying destiny may be just as hazardous as succumbing to it. Geralt… I would give you the child. But… I’m afraid, too.’

Then in The Last Wish, Geralt describes his own experiences with The Trials:

“Kaer Morhen…That's where the likes of me were produced. It's not done anymore; no one lives in Kaer Morhen now. No one but Vesemir. Who's Vesemir? My father. Why are you so surprised? What's so strange about it? Everyone's got a father, and mine is Vesemir. And so what if he's not my real father? I didn't know him, or my mother. I don't even know if they're still alive, and I don't much care.

“Yes, Kaer Morhen. I underwent the usual mutation there, through the Trial of Grasses, and then hormones, herbs, viral infections. And then through them all again. And again, to the bitter end. Apparently, I took the changes unusually well; I was only ill briefly. I was considered to be an exceptionally resilient brat…and was chosen for more complicated experiments as a result. They were worse. Much worse. But, as you see, I survived. The only one to live out of all those chosen for further trials. My hair's been white ever since. Total loss of pigmentation. A side effect, as they say. A trifle.

“Then they taught me various things until the day when I left Kaer Morhen and took to the road. I’d earned my medallion, the Sign of the Wolf's School. I had two swords: silver and iron, and my conviction, enthusiasm, incentive and…faith. Faith that I was needed in a world full of monsters and beasts, to protect the innocent. As I left Kaer Morhen, I dreamed of meeting my first monster. I couldn't wait to stand eye to eye with him. And the moment arrived.”

So looking at this process, according to the books the way a Witcher becomes, well a Witcher looks like this:

There is the Choice which is the decision to become a Witcher made when you are a child

Eat a lot of magic mushrooms that give you the strength and ability Witchers are known for 

Then the Trial of the Grasses which is a concoction of mutagenic elixirs injected into the bloodstream which mutates you into a Witcher 

Then finally there are the Changes. This is a big step and one that requires a mage. This is when the hormones are changed and a Witcher becomes permanently sterile

then there is training until you earn your medallion and BOOM, out onto the path with you

This is why it’s such a big deal that Triss was brought to Kaer Morhen. Without a mage, someone cannot become a full Witcher and Triss believed that was why she was there. Of course, this wasn’t true but it’s a valid concern to have. 

One thing I want to note, there is absolutely NOTHING in the text that says that being a Witcher is limited to any sort of gender boundary. The fact that Triss so readily jumped to Ciri becoming a Witcher and the fact that Geralt didn’t specify  boys until he was talking about the sterilization process...well, there is a likelihood female Witchers actually existed. 

Again, in the books Witchers are a dying breed and you can literally count on one hand the number of Witchers we meet. Of course, considering mages are the ones who made Witchers, it makes sense that female Witchers are either strongly discouraged, banned or simply not talked about. 

One big point Triss has against Ciri’s training is that she won’t “develop” correctly like a woman “should” due to the mushrooms and harsh training and considering how so many northern mages place importance on beauty I could definitely see mages not wanting to have female Witchers, considering it a “perversion”. 

Just a fun thought I often have about the books that I haven’t seen anyone point out. 

So overall, here is what the books have to say about the Trials, it’s a touch different from the games but I find this very fascinating and interesting. Let me know if you want me to do a specific topic or relationship next, but for now, thanks for reading!