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jadequeen88 · 4 years

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Incel Tomura

I couldn’t think of a good title for this, so... I just went with something real blunt. Anyway, this was inspired by a friend and how she actually met her IRL boyfriend.

PAIRING: Incel!Shigaraki x egirl!reader

TW: face sitting, degradation, mommy kink, reader basically bullying Tomura (he deserves it)

3.2k~

AS ALWAYS MY FICS ARE STRICTLY 18+

“TCH!”

Tomura scoffed at the screen of his laptop. The Discord server he helped admin had gone to shit since he let that idiot Dabi loosen the requirements to join. It was one thing when Toga joined. He knew she was a decent gamer. But you? With those stereotypical cat-ear headsets, perfectly done make-up and short skirts? Please… He saw right through you. Just another fake ~uwu~ e-girl trying to pretend they knew what they were talking about.

It didn’t end with you being annoyingly informed in the gaming chat, either. You were always in the anime and manga chats, too… Suggesting different ones that there’s no way you actually enjoyed.

But the WORST part of you being in the server? Spamming the picture chat with selfies and outfit pics. No, it wasn’t against the guidelines and yes, you got lots of compliments (of course, you were clearly hot), but it made Tomura livid. Where there used to be pics of half-built PCs and screenshots of character upgrades, now there were endless pictures meant to tease and bait the guys in the server.

Today’s picture is what sent him completely over the edge. Your hair was put up in two messy space buns, signature pink cat-eared headset perched on your head. Your black, mesh top was straining against your tight, hot pink bra, barely hiding your cleavage and your slender neck was adorned with a chunky, black collar with a large, silver ring hanging from the front. The icing on the cake, though… the thing that broke him, was the face you were making. Eyes crossed, little pink tongue lolling past your perfect hot-pink lips, it was an obvious ahegao face. The caption read:

“New collar! Thank you for da gift @XxXknifey_wifeyXxX”

Followed by a bunch of annoying ass emojis.

Tomura shifted in his gaming chair, his growing bulge making his sweats tight. He gritted his teeth and opened his DMs…

******

You snickered as you opened your text chat with Dabi. Poor Tomura… He had no clue his friend was an old high school buddy of yours and sent screenshots every single time he bitched about your presence on the server. At first, it was just a couple of snide comments, but you quickly decided to turn it into a game. You’d add more emojis than you normally would, flirt shamelessly with Toga in the chat, and be very vocal with your opinions. Then it progressed with more and more selfies, pics showing off your new skirts, and pics of your pink, girly gaming setup. Today you pushed it with the ahegao face, you’ll admit. It was pretty out of character for you, but you couldn’t wait to hear about Tomura’s reaction from Dabi.

It was everything you hoped it would be:

Decay_666_

So can we give those bitches their own chat or what? Seriously, I’m sick of seeing their shit everywhere. Did you see her ahegao face selfie? This server was supposed to be for ACTUAL gamers, not fake e-girl sluts spamming the chat with their bullshit…

Cremation_Daddy

Lol, damn dude, calm down… we can make a separate chat. You’re the only one on the server complaining. Y/N really fucking you up that bad?

Decay_666_

Oh, fuck off… she’s just being an attention whore and it’s getting on my nerves.

Cremation_Daddy

Yeah, whatever you say. Prolly jerkin it to that selfie right now

You didn’t know why, but you kinda had a crush on the skinny loser. Knowing how worked up he’d get over the smallest things you did thrilled you. You wanted to know just how badly you affected him and today was the day you’d find out.

*****

Tomura heard a ping from his monitor alerting him to a new DM. expecting it to be Dabi giving him more shit, he scowled and clicked over to his Discord tab. When he saw that it was you DMing him, it was like someone had poured a bucket of ice water over his head. He could barely type he was so nervous.

Y/N

Hey :)

Decay_666_

Y/N

How did you like my new collar?

Tomura panicked. Had Dabi said something? There’s no way he’d do that. How did he even respond to that? He decided to feign ignorance.

Decay_666_

What collar?

Y/N

*image*

He audibly gasped. You sent him the selfie you’d posted in the chat earlier. Somehow, it was even hotter than the first time he’d seen it. Probably because you had sent it to him. You wanted to make sure he saw it. The thought alone made him painfully hard. He typed out a shaky response:

Decay_666_

Yeah… you look really pretty :)

He grimaced. He couldn’t think of anything clever when he was put on the spot like that. Plus, how long had it been since he’d spoken to a girl one on one? Much less a hot one? Never. That’s when.

Y/N

Aww, you’re so sweet :) wanna see it in person?

Now Tomura was wondering if he’d died and gone to heaven. Did she want to meet up? Wearing that fucking collar? There’s no way… He stared at the screen for a good ten minutes before another ping brought him back to reality.

Y/N

I’m free now if you are. Plus, there’s a new episode of *insert favorite anime* out and I didn’t wanna watch it alone.

Decay_666_

Yeah. Sure.

His response was almost uninterested but inside he was panicking. When was the last time he showered? How much time did he have to get ready? Did he even have any clean clothes? He leaped from his chair and ran to the bathroom to brush his teeth. Another ping rang out and he raced to check his DMs to see that you’d sent your address. To his surprise, you only lived a short walk from him. Another jolt of excitement shot through his spine as he quickly responded.

Decay_666_

Be over in 30 :)

He turned on the shower then started picking through his pile of clothes finding the ones that smelled the least offensive. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this nervous and excited at the same time.

*****

Tomura shifted from one foot to the other, nervously scratching at the side of his neck. He caught himself before the skin there broke and he ended up having to deal with a bloody neck on top of already being a nervous wreck. He’d only been standing outside your apartment for a minute or two, but it felt like an eternity. He kept checking his phone to distract himself. Just as he was starting to question if this had been a good idea, the door flung open.

His eyes widened and his mouth turned into a thin line. You answered the door in a fucking towel. He began opening and closing his mouth like a fish that had been plucked from the water. You giggled innocently like it was perfectly normal to answer the door nearly naked.

“You’re here a little earlier than I expected! I just got out of the shower. Come on in,” you moved to the side to give him room to walk through the door into your small apartment. You were sure to not move completely out of the way so he’d have to almost brush against your chest. You could feel him stiffen and hold his breath as he passed by.

This was going to be so much fun…

*****

Tomura’s dick had been painfully hard the moment he’d seen you in that towel. Luckily, when you’d gone into your bedroom to get dressed, he was able to position it in his waistband so he wouldn’t be pitching a tent in front of you. The thought of you noticing him popping a boner just by looking at you in a towel was mortifying.

However, what you decided to change into didn’t help his situation. Your baby pink terry cloth shorts would have shown the curve of your ass had it not been for the little row of ruffles around the bottom. Your tank top, the same baby pink color as your shorts, was pulled tight across your chest (holy shit, were you not wearing a bra?!). A fleeting glance at your chest proved to Tomura that you definitely were not wearing a bra.

“You can come on back,” you beckoned from the doorway of your bedroom, “I thought we’d be more comfortable in here…”

He gulped and rubbed his sweaty palms on his jeans before nodding and rising to walk towards you. Your room was foreign to him. Decorated with all shades of pink and purple, soft, plush bedding, and a soft pink glow emanated from the LED strip lights that lined the walls. Tomura stood awkwardly, looking around for a chair to sit in when you flopped onto your bed and began pulling up the streaming app on your tv.

You looked up at him sweetly and patted the spot on the plush comforter next to you. “Come sit, Tomu! You don’t have to stand way over there. I don’t stink, ya know,” the wink you gave him made his knees buckle.

“Umm,” he chuckled nervously, “No, of course not. You, uhh… you smell…”

No, you were way too close. This was bad. There’s no way he would be able to string together a coherent thought, much less hold an actual conversation with you. You pout and lean in even closer to him.

“Tomuuuuu!” fuck, he hated that he loved that stupid nickname, “You think I smell?!”

“What?! N-no, not at all. I was trying to say that-”

Before he could finish his sentence, you tilted your head to the side offering up your neck for him to smell and he swears his eyes crossed as he tried to absorb what was happening.

“I even wore my new perfume! Go on, smell. Tell me what you think,” you smirk looking out of the corner of your eye.

Fuck.

You were teasing him, he knew you were, but his dick was so hard that he was completely at your mercy. He leaned in to take a tentative sniff and his eyes wandered lower. His breath hitched when he noticed the outline of your hardened nipples peeking through the thin material of your tank top. Before he knew what was happening, you turned your face forward and put your mouth next to his ear.

“Are you looking down my shirt, you pervert?” you purred. Tomura made some sort of incoherent noise and pulled away.

You laughed and pushed his shoulder playfully, “Geeze, I’m just kidding! You’re wound so tight.” you pause making a thoughtful face.

“Oh, I know how to help! Come on, over here,” you pulled him between your spread thighs and proceeded to rub his shoulders, working out all of the knots in his lean back.

After a few seconds, Tomura began to relax into your touch, slumping slightly and letting out a tiny sigh. He was deathly still the entire time you massaged him. He was terrified if he moved too much that his raging boner would free itself from his waistband. When your hands left his shoulders, he started to move away just to be pulled back into your lap. His head landed in your cleavage as your hands trailed down his chest.

“Hmm, so tense, Tomu,” you whispered into the crown of his hair, “Is my massage not working?”

He wanted to yell that of course he was tensed up. That his dick is the hardest it’s ever been in his life and if he doesn’t hold as still as possible, he’s scared he might start humping the air like a pathetic dog. Before he can answer, your hand trails down to the waistband of his jeans, and he freezes. The tips of your fingers brush across his leaking tip and Tomura lets out a low, needy moan before he can stop himself.

“Just what I thought,” you purred as you began to trail your fingers up and down the hard bulge in his jeans, “Pathetic. Look at you, so fucking hard for me. And all I did was rub your shoulders.” He wanted to defend himself, but all he could do was whine as his eyes rolled in the back of his head while you continued touching him through his jeans.

“And to think, I never thought you’d want anything to do with some fake bimbo like me. Because I only game and watch anime for attention, right?” you squeeze his cock through his jeans, causing him to yelp. “Well? What do you have to say for yourself, incel? Wanna tell me why your dick is this hard for me if I’m so annoying to you?”

The realization that Dabi had told you everything flitted through the back of his mind, but he didn’t have room in his brain right then to be mad at him. He had to do whatever he needed to do to keep you touching him.

“I, ahh... I’m s-sorry,” he stuttered pathetically. The front of his jeans was wet from your teasing and the denim was rubbing him raw through his thin boxers, “D-didn’t, fuck, didn’t mean it like… ahh, l-like th-that.”

You loved how easily you could wreck him. You pet his hair back from his sweaty brow as you cooed at him lovingly.

“You know,” you removed your hand from the front of his jeans and he whined from the lack of friction, “You really hurt my feelings, baby. I thought you were so cool and the whole time, behind my back, you said just mean things about me.”

He sat up and turned to face you. His pathetic, needy gaze shot straight to your core. The power you held made you drunk and you desperately wanted more.

“No, no no no…” he grabbed your hands and you realized how clammy they were, “I’m-I’m so sorry. Please! Please…”

“Hmm,” you studied him for a moment, “Well… There might be a way you could make me feel a little better.” you tucked a strand of hair behind his ear, “You were so mean to me.”

“Anything! Please! I-I’ll do anything for you!” desperation started creeping in, thinking you’d leave him hanging with no relief. Little did he know, you had no intention of letting him go any time soon. Your plush lips curled into a devious smile. A soft hand reached up cupping his jaw.

“What a good boy, Tomu,” a tremor passed through his body. You reached over to your nightstand and pulled out the collar you’d taken the selfie in.

“You know,” the collar danced between your painted nails, “This also came with a leash. I was thinking,” your lust-filled eyes meet his, “If you wanted to be a good boy for me… You’d let me see how pretty it looks around your neck.”

Tomura hesitated, his eyes rapidly moving between your eyes and the collar you held. After a moment of consideration, he nodded. You giggled and clapped your hands together excitedly leaping off the bed. You returned with a short, chain-link leash.

“Now,” you leaned in and fastened the collar around his neck. Your bodies were centimeters apart and Tomura thought he might pass out, “When you’re wearing your collar, you don’t call me Y/N,” you nudge his ear with your nose and whisper, “You call me ‘Mommy.’ Do you understand?” you feel him nod against your face.

“That’s not how good boys answer their Mommy. When you answer me, you say, ‘Yes Mommy’ or ‘No Mommy.’ Is that clear?”

“Y-yes… Mommy.”

“Mmm, what a good boy,” you placed a soft kiss on his neck and he let out the most delicious whimper. You hooked a finger through the ring on the front of the collar, “You’re gonna go sit in Mommy’s gaming chair and let her use you as a toy. Okay?”

Tomura’s head was spinning and he almost couldn’t answer until you jerked him by his collar, “Y-yes, Mommy. Please, please make me your toy.”

You stood and dragged him over to your chair and made him sit, “What a polite boy you are! Saying ‘please’ without being asked. If you keep that up, you just might get a reward,” his belt buckle rattled as you worked his jeans down his narrow hips.

A ragged breath escaped his chapped lips as you removed your tiny shorts revealing a black, lace thong. You straddled his lap, your dripping slit hovering a centimeter over the angry, leaking head of his cock. His hands shook as you placed them on your hips and slowly moved your thong to the side. Descending an inch at a time, only teasing his tip, was causing him to come undone underneath you.

“You’re already so close and I’ve only put the tip in. You better be a good boy and not come until I tell you to or you’re going to be punished,” you pushed another couple of inches inside and he nearly wept.

“I-I’m trying, M-mommy! I wanna be a good boy!”

“Mmm, I know, baby. You’re doing so,” another inch, “So…” and another, “Well.” you were fully seated on his cock now. Tomura knew he wouldn’t last. Your velvet walls were sucking him down harder than anything ever had before. It made his fleshlight feel like it was made of sandpaper. You had ruined him for anything else.

With a few rolls of your hips and some high, airy moans, he was about to bust. “Mommy! Mommy, please! I-I’m g-gonna…”

“Tomu,” your voice was authoritative now, “If you come in Mommy’s pussy, I’m going to make you clean it out with your tongue then I’m going to sit on your face until I come as many times as I want.” your hand wrapped around his throat and you started bouncing on his cock. Your filthy words and aggressive motions catapulted him into an orgasm.

“You bad, BAD boy,” a smack to his cheek broke off his moans, “You disobeyed me! Did you do that on purpose?” your hand around his neck flexes, “Are you just a dirty incel that wants Mommy to get mean with you? Answer, Tomu!”

“Yes, Mommy!”

“Tell Mommy what you are…”

“I-I’m a-a… dirty incel.”

“And what do you want?”

“W-want… want Mommy to b-be mean to me…”

You lift him by the collar and attach the leash. He’s thrown onto the bed and you waste no time hovering your dripping slit over his face.

“Now,” you jerk the leash, “Clean up your mess.”

Tomura knew he should be disgusted right now, but his dick was getting harder by the second. With each lick inside your sloppy hole, he shamelessly moaned against your skin. The vibrations were going straight to your clit, causing you to ride his face harder. This went on until you’d almost reached your peak.

“Oh, baby,” you’re making Mommy feel so, so good, “I-I’m gonna…”

Tomura grabbed your ass and moved you back and forth on his face as he sucked your clit into his mouth. Your orgasm hit hard and fast. You lifted your body giving him a moment to breathe before sitting back down, earning a startled mumble from him.

“Don’t think that’s all,” you laughed and humped his face, making his eyes roll into the back of his head, “Be a good boy and mommy might even let you come…”

Tomura only nodded as he began to eat you again like he was starved. Maybe all the stuff you posted in the Discord server wasn’t so annoying anymore...

#Shigaraki #tomura shigaraki #shigaraki tomura #shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura x reader #shigaraki x you #bnha smut #tw // mommy kink #tw degradation #tw face sitting #jade writes smut

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tparker48 · 3 years

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Request for Preyslavee

Today Tyler's folks were out of town as they called him to watch the house. He would be sitting in the living watching a little bit of TV as he enjoyed his snacks.

"So this what its like to be an to run the house. Sure im small, but at least the folks trust me to look after it. Don't have work breathing down my neck, got the tv, and more importantly, i got the house all to myself" Tyler said stretching his body before slouching onto the couch. "Ah, nothing can stop it from where im sitting" as he watched the television, a shadow appeared above him as giant ass hovered above. Before he could react, it soon hurtled towards as his vision was covered my mounds of muscle. He was able to shout on the inside. But on the outside, nothing but the softened muffle was the only thing to signal where he was underneath.

"Surprise squirt! Didn't expect to see my little brother here"

"Grgh! Daniel?! What are you doing here?"

"What's it look like im doing? Watching the house to keep it safe. And it looks like i caught a slacker" he felt Tyler push against his cheeks as he felt his little limbs sink into him. He then tauntly rocked his ass ontop before getting up. "Heh, you're punier than i remember. You sure you didn't get smaller".

"Peh!And i see you still have rank smell" Tyler said as ge spat to the side. "Nah! I gotta change clothes now!" Tyler hopped off the couch as he walked along the carpet. Doing his vest to ignore his older brother as his smug face towered over him.

"Aww, don't like the smell. I think it suits you well squirt".

"Shut your face!"

"Ah i remember way back when we was younger. The fun you and i used to have, boy were those the good times" Daniel following behind him. Purposefully moving his feet closer as he nudged into Tyler's back with his toes.

"Those were not good times! Half the time we spent was almost against some parts of your body"

"Ah that you were. Still remember swim day at the beach. Ahaha! Seeing ya squirming my shorts was the best feeling after that swim. Still remember exactly where your outline was. Riight there underneath my c-"

"Gyaah! Do not even bring that one up" Tyler shivered. "Can't even sleep on pillow without thinking THAT. Im heading to my room, you can have the front and-" A foot would land in his paths as bumped into the side. Following back as it lead to Daniel.

"Ah ah ah, i wanna spend some quality time with my wittle brother. Its been almost 6 months since the last time we hanged out together. Come here you!"

"Hey hey! What are you-grgh!" a firm hand gripped around Tyler as he was lifted upward. He tried struggling to get free, but the pressure wouldn't let up. "Let me..go!"

"Not before you meet your old friend mister belly" with the hand holding tyler, he lifted his shirt as his slight pudgy belly wobbled out from underneath. He soon brought his gripped hand closer as he splayed it across his belly button. With Tyler being in the center as the surface jiggled. "Go on, say hello".

Tyler could barely move as the hand held him into the squishy surface of the belly. The. Sounds of churns lingered and ranged through his ears as the sound of his brother's voice even echoed inside. As the gurgles went into a more deeper tone, he staryed to push against it as the belly morphed around him. But the hand behind didn't move. "Nrrgh! Get..off me!"

"Aw you're so mean to mean mr. Belly, he's your old friend afterall. Say...why don't you pay to pay him a visit".

"What?! No!"

"Yeah, that sound like a great idea" Daniel started to lift Tyler above him as he gaped his mouth open. Sprawling his tongue out in the process as drool dripped partially from.

"No no no! Stop!"

"Heh" as he let go, Daniel watch as Tyler vanished passed his nose before feeling his body slide along his tongue. As felt pressure further inside as slowly start to close it.

Tyler soon saw the light of the hallway begin to darken as he tried to climb back up. But the large tongue would keep him from making progress as it waved underneath. "Ah ah" a taunting tone echoed inside the mouth. Before the lips sealed and left him in the dark. "No!" He yelled before everything around him started to shuffle. Though he couldn't see, he felt the tongue underneath begin to twist around him as he felt himself being dragged around the mouth.

On the outside, Daniel would walk around the house as he went back to the living room. Sitting down on the couch as he toyed with his little brother inside his mouth. He moved him with hus tongue to the left cheek as the his brother voice could be heard in the compact flesh. Before disappearing and then reappearing at the other as he rubbed hus tongue up and down as he enjoyed the feeling of Tyler struggling inside. He rubbed him a couple more times side before letting his mouth gape back open. Letting Tyler have a glimmer of hope as he tried crawling his way out.

He managed to get out partially grom his brother's mouth, but only hanged as his shoes rested between daniels teeth. W-what?!".

"Enjoy the ride down squirt" Daniel flicked his head upward as he tossed Tyler into the air. As he came back down, Daniel would be eying him with his mouth open wide as Tyler plopped inside. Closing it back up, he tilted his head further back as he felt a slight bulge at the back of his neck. The sensation of kicks lingering at the end of his tongue as it slid into the tube.

"Daniel no!"

**gulp**

As Daniel's throat clenched, a bulge slid down its length as Tyler's voice echoed beyond the surface. Slowly traveling further below before softening as it past his collar bone. On the inside, Tyler could barely see or hear anything but the sounds of clenching muscles surrounded him. Doing his best to move his body to stop his decent, but the muscles didn't respond as they slid Tyler down. As he was squeezed through the sphincter, his body was deposited into Daniels stomach as he landed against the sponge like walls. "Daniel, let me out of here! You know mom and dad said not do this again!"

"They aren't here, which means you get spend good old time with Mr. Belly" Daniel placed both hands along the sides of his belly as he juggled it around. Tyler felt the area come alive and hus balance become unstable as he wobbled from one side of the belly to the other.

"Daniel! Stop it! Im...ooh im dizzy"

"Heh, still get see sick huh? Aw that's shame, cause its gonna be a bumpy ride in there. Oooh, which brings me to tonights dinner. We're having pasta tonight. Or well, heh me"

"You are not having dinner with in here. Im gonna cause you a hell of a belly before you even know what's" Tyler yelled as he pushed against stomach's walls. But only received a push back as he fell over.

"Aha! A belly ache, That's a good one" Daniel started to make his way to down the hall as he made his way to the kitchen as he prepared a meal for the night. Mixing and cooking with the materials he had available, he focused on the sensation going on from within as he heard Tyler yelling at the too of his lungs deep inside his body.

About an hour passed as Tyler slouched against stomach wall. Accompanied the stomach's churns as the sounds of silverware muffled beyond them. "Nah, hiw do i get myself in these types of situations. From being nearly sat on to now being in a lousy brother's belly" Tyler sighed. "Well, at least its empty. And besides, they he couldn't eat that much pasta right?" Movement started to cause the stomach to gurgle before the opening above began to open. A large noodle would seep its way through as it landed onto his lap. As Tyler tries to process it, another piece fell into the stomach as meaty chunks followed it. "Oh no.." Fluid would start to fill the chamber as the scent of lemons mixed with the must. "Stop eating! There's no room. Daniel!"

With the prepared meal, Daniel would be sitting on the couch as he forked through the pasta in front of him. Continuing to wolf it down as ye eased it inside with a cold cup of lemonade. "Daniel!" Was the only thing he heard come out from the his growing belly as he felt the food in his join in with the rest of his stomach. He only chuckled to himself as he gave him stomach a firm pat and a rub.

The inside would just about be filled up the brim as food continued to fall inside. Tyler barely staying out of the chewed food as he perched against an indention in the wall. The food starting to climb its way towards the Tyler's safe place as some of the liquid splashed over his. "Please stop filling, please stop filling, please stop filling" he hope as the content reached the edge. Lightly spilling itself into as it slightly rocked. But before the it fill the gap, it stopped as the sphincter above closed back in place.

"I can barely feel you in there Tyler. But i can sure feel that food" Daniel released a loud belch as he gave his stomach a firm pat. "Id give you some, you probably already have a belly full of it hehe" he started to hear Tyler's muffled lingering from inside as he turned the volume on the TV all the way up. "What's that? i can't hear ya over television, you'll have to speak up in there haha. Don't worry, I'll let you tomorrow. Big brother promises".

"Daniel, so help me if you don't get me out of this, you'll be sorry! You hear me?!" Tyler yelled inside, but was only met with the muffled sounds of the television. He gazed at the pile of food spread out below him as he watched the contents wobble inside. The belly firmly clenching around them as they as bits splashed into Tyler's legs. "Ah come on!" Tyler tried his best to rub off the chunks that landed into him, but they would got aways as he resulted to fanning his hands. He soon heard the sounds of snoring as the stomach began to rumble. "Is he...sleeping? Oh no no, you Can't go to sleep! Daniel! Damn it, Daniel wake up!...Gah!" Before Tyler could react, he felt the area flip over as the contents created a wave and crashed into him. He could tell which way was up as he swam around before deciding to follow the stomach's side walls. Eventually he resurfaced, but could finding a footing anywhere. "Peh!....Peh! Daniel....peh! Wake up!"

On the outside, Daniel would be turned on his side as he gave his belly a firm scratch. Feeling the contents inside jiggle underneath as he focused on the churns. "Mmm, now that was some good food. Enjoy your stay in my stomach...Tyler" he mumbled before drifting off.

The next morning:

Daniel would wake up to the sound of the Tv going on as he sluggishly opened his eyes. Turning off the Tv, He stood up to his feet as he scratched his belly. "Man what a night. That pasta last night really hit the spot" as he started to walk forward, he had a hand on his stomach as he walked around the house.

The commotion would catch Tyler attention as feel the belly start to move. "He's awake? He's awake! Daniel!" Tyler yelled standing to his feet. The food he was once swimming in now formes into puddle as he pounded into the walls once more. "Daniel! let me out of here!"

"Hmm, there was something i needed to do from last night. But what was it?"

"It was to get me out Daniel. Daniel?!"

"Hmm..." He went to the kitchen as he searched the fridge. He saw a carton of milk that was half empty as his stomach growled. "That's right!"

"Yes! He's starting to remember. Now i can finally-"

"I forgot to get more milk for my apartment"

"What?!"

"I better get some along the way. Don't want the miss to be breathing down my neck again" Daniel soon started to get dressed as he went for the door.

"No no, Daniel! That wasn't it! That wasn't it!" Tyler pounded at the the fleshy wall for Daniel to hear. But the sounds of the stomach's shifts masked it as Daniel left. Leaving him to endure the constant churns as he awaits for him to remember his promise.

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triplexdoublex · 3 years

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I’ll Try Anything At Least Once

Pairings: Colson x Reader

Warnings/Tags: Watersports/piss kink/wetting , omorashi/desperation, biting, praise kink

A/N: Here have another one of my older reworked fics while I finish up the other 3 fics i have going right now. I promise the next one will be brand new.

“Baby, you’ve barely touched your water,” Colson says from where he sits across from you at the table of your favorite casual restaurant, located in your local mall. You’re there celebrating your two-year anniversary.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right, it’s just that this steak is so damn good,” you say as you reach for your water glass. Colson watches intently as you take a large gulp, almost finishing the whole glass. “Guess, I was thirsty,” you laugh. “The food’s delicious, but it’s definitely salty.”

“Aye, after dinner, I was thinking we could go get you some new lingerie and I, uh… I kinda wanna try something new tonight.” He smiles as he refills your water glass from the small, glass pitcher on the table.

“Ooooh, like what?” you smirk. “You know I’ll try anything at least once.”

“You’ll see,” he teases. “Now drink up.”

You’re not sure what his current obsession with your water intake is, but you drink nonetheless. By the time the waitress returns to see if you would like dessert, you’ve finished your second glass. Colson immediately refills it as you look over the dessert menus.

“Colson, what the hell is up with you and the water tonight?” you ask, perplexed by this odd behavior. “For God’s sake, I’m about to piss myself.”

He digs his teeth into his bottom lip, his blonde eyelashes fluttering closed briefly at your words.

“Maybe that’s the point,” he speaks, his voice low and lust-filled.

“Colson, you can’t be serious,” you practically laugh, taken aback.

“I am,” he admits with blushing cheeks, “but if you’re not into it, just forget I said anything, alright?” he states, sounding slightly defensive.

“Hey… no, look, I’m sorry,” you apologize as you reach out to stroke his arm. “You just took me by surprise, that’s all. I meant what I said earlier; I’ll really try anything at least once.” You smile apologetically and can’t help but to be intrigued by his kink.

You decide to forego dessert and make your way to the lingerie store where Colson picks out a simple, yet sexy, silky, white bra and panty set with lace detail.

“These are gonna look so good on you when they’re all soaked and clinging to your pussy,” he whispers seductively in your ear from behind you, placing them in your hand. You never thought you’d be into this kind of thing, and maybe it’s just the lust in Colson’s voice or the three cups of water weighing heavy in your bladder right now, but something deep in your pelvis stirs at his words.

Colson stays close behind you as you head to the cashier. The line is long, as it always is when the holidays are near, and the need to use the bathroom is getting stronger with each passing minute. Shifting your weight from one foot to the other, you sway your hips in desperation, trying to resist the urge to physically hold yourself in public. Suddenly you feel Colson’s hand on your hips, stilling their movements.

“Baby, you’re killing me right now,” he says softly, digging his chin into your shoulder from behind you. “Feel what your little dance is doing to me?” he breathes in your ear, discreetly pressing his clothed erection against your backside.

“Colson!” you warn, reaching for the various lotions and body sprays that line checkout area, smelling them to distract yourself and ultimately picking out a few to purchase.

When it’s finally your turn to check out, you place your items down and brace yourself with your hands on the counter, crossing your legs at the ankles and squeezing your thighs together, effectively holding back the stream threatening to run down your legs.

After the transaction is complete, Colson takes the bag, strategically carrying it in front of himself. “Let’s head to the bathroom,” he suggests as you exit the store, heading back into the mall.

You’ve never felt more relieved to hear those words, but the feeling is short lived. Once inside the single stall family restroom, you begin frantically pulling down your panties as you make your way to the toilet, but Colson stops you.

“Unh-uh, that’s not what we’re here for,” he teases with a smirk, stepping between you and your destination, palm pressed against your shoulder.

“Colson, please!” you plead, clutching at your bare crotch, panties halfway down your thighs.

“No,” he answers sternly, “but feel free to keep begging. I love how needy and desperate you sound,” he says huskily. “You’re doing so good for me, baby.”

“Then why are we here?” you groan, beginning to pull your panties back up.

“Aye, not so fast,” Colson places his hand on the crotch of your panties, stopping you from pulling them back up. “Baby, these are all wet,” he says, caught off guard by his accidental findings. “It better not be…” he pauses, trailing his hand up your inner thigh and discovering your slick folds. “Mmmmm, good girl. You like holding yourself for me, don’t you?” he teases, bringing his fingers to his mouth, licking them clean.

“Maybe,” you smirk with blushing cheeks, unable to tell where the pressure of your full bladder stops and the pooling sexual desire in your abdomen begins, the two sensations mingling as one. Colson smiles, reaching into the pink striped bag of your purchases and pulling out the matching bra and panty set he bought you.

“Here put these on,” he says, tossing them to you. “That’s why I brought you in here.”

“Now?” you question. “Why don’t we just wait until we get home?”

“Cuz when we get home, I just wanna take them off you… after you wet them for me, that is.”

You do as you’re told, stripping out of your current undergarments and replacing them with the new ones as Colson watches intently, resting against the wall.

“You should help me with this while we’re in here too,” he teases, cupping his obvious erection, showing off the large outline through his jeans.

You squat down in front of him, not wanting to kneel on the public restroom floor, the positioning making you all the more desperate for relief. Colson unzips his jeans and you tug them down to mid-thigh, followed by his boxers, his bare ass pressed against the cold tile wall.

With one hand on the back of your head and the other grasping his length, he guides himself into your mouth. You bob over his length half-assed and sloppily, too focused on clenching your muscles trying not to pee. Colson notices your lack of skill at the moment, taking over and pumping himself, but he doesn’t mind. The sight of you squatting and squirming, hand pressed firmly to your core is enough to bring him close to the edge.

Assisting the best you can, you lick and suck on the head of Colson’s length as he strokes himself, occasionally slapping the tip against your tongue. The fullness of your bladder is becoming close to unbearable, and you let out a muffled, high-pitched whine as a strong urge to release washes over you, causing you to clutch yourself with both hands. The sound and sight is enough to send Colson over the edge.

“F-fuck, I’m gonna c-cum,” he chokes out in a barely audible, throaty moan as he guides his length to the back of your tongue, spilling down your throat. You do your best to swallow every drop, running the tip of your tongue over his slit, making him shudder before pulling him from your mouth completely.

“Listen, I’m all for pissing myself for you baby, really I am, but I’d rather it not happen by accident in public, so if we could head home now, that would be great,” you practically beg as you throw your dress back on.

“Oh, you’re no fun.,” he teases, doing a slight jump to get his skinny jeans back up over his ass and zipping them.

“Colson, please!” you plead, bouncing in desperation.

“Kidding, kidding,” he laughs. “Let’s go before you make me hard again.”

***********************************

“Are you doing that on purpose?” you ask, ripping your seatbelt off on the way home.

“Doin’ what?” he asks, feigning innocence.

“Hitting every damn pothole so my seatbelt squeezes my bladder!”

“Maybe,” he laughs, “But come on, baby, put your seatbelt back on. I’ll stop. I don’t want anything to happen to you,” he says seriously, reaching across your body to grab the belt, one hand on the steering wheel.

“Fine,” you answer, taking the belt from his hand and buckling yourself back in, all while giving Colson a warning eye.

He keeps his word but the ride seems to last forever, and you don’t know how much longer you can hold it. You spend the rest of the drive with your hands squeezed tightly between your shaking legs, and your head leaned back on the headrest with eyes clenched tight.

“Baby, we’re home,” Colson says, lightly grazing his hand over your lower abdomen, breaking you from your concentration. You moan at his touch, the light pressure causing you to feel like you’re about to piss or cum, you can’t distinguish which. Colson helps you out of the car and into the house.

“Baby please, I can’t hold it any longer,” you beg the second you’re through the front door.

“Fine,” Colson says, quickly pulling your black dress up and over your head, tossing it to the floor and throwing your lingerie clad body over his shoulder.

“Colson!” you shriek, the pressure from his shoulder against your bladder forcing a trickle to run down his chest and darken a large spot on his heathered grey shirt.

“Mmmm, baby,” Colson moans at the warm sensation. “Come on, we’re almost there, you can hold it. You’re doing so good,” he praises, as he carries you up the stairs. You’re not exactly sure what his plan is, but you assumed whatever he had planned for this would take place in the bathroom, so you’re more than surprised when he carries you to the bedroom and tosses you down on the sheets of your unmade bed.

“Colson, I told you I can’t hold it anymore,” you plead, laying on your back with your knees tightly pressed together.

“I know… go,” he smirks, palming himself through his jeans.

“Here?! b-but the bed…” you exclaim, sitting up suddenly, grabbing at the sheets on either side of you.

“Don’t worry about the bed baby, we got one of those mattress protectors when we bought the mattress and I’ll take care of the sheets myself,” he promises. “Now, come on baby, wet for me,” he begs, as he pushes your panties to the side, inserting two fingers.

“Colson, fuck,” you whimper as his fingers curls upwards inside of you, forcing small spurts of urine out.

“Come on, more baby, let it all go,” he says, pulling his fingers from you, licking the wetness that’s gathered on them as he pulls his length from his jeans with his free hand and begins pumping himself.

You close your eyes and relax your bladder expecting a large gush, but only an agonizingly slow stream starts to flow due to the pressure in your overfull bladder. Colson strokes himself, watching and praising you with half-lidded eyes as what’s left of the dry spots on your white panties turn wet and translucent, clinging to the contours of your folds.

After a few moments, the pressure lessens and the flow picks up into a gush, flowing through the white fabric of your panties in a stream, soaking the bed around you. The relief is almost orgasmic, causing you to moan and whimper as your bladder finishes emptying.

“Fuck, that’s so hot. So good for me baby,” Colson praises when you finish, his eyes glazed over by lust in a way you’ve never seen them before.

He turns you over onto your hands and knees, moaning as he runs his hands over the wet fabric, admiring how they cling to your backside before pushing them to the side and entering you quickly. Guttural moans of your name form in his throat as he harshly grips your hips, slamming into you at a relentless pace. The wetness of your panties transfers to the skin of his pelvis with every thrust. He takes notice, gliding his hand over the moisture on his skin.

“Oh, shit!” he cries out, driven insane with pleasure at the feeling and picking up the pace, fucking you harder than he ever has in the two years you’ve been together.

“Yeah, baby, just like that. Fuck me, fuck, me!” you chant, loving his new-found intensity. He continues thrusting at a fast pace, sounds of colliding wet skin echoing throughout the room.

“Oh God, Colson, fuck,” you cry out, gripping the sheets as orgasm nears.

Leaning over your back, Colson reaches around to your clit, rubbing fast-paced circles through your soaked panties. Kissing roughly along the width of your shoulders, he sinks his perfect teeth into the crook of your neck, hard enough to leave marks as he cums. You bounce back on his length as he rides out his orgasm with slow, hard thrusts, achieving your climax moments later which jolts through you like lightning.

“Oh fuck!” you scream as your arms weaken, your face sinking into the pillow.

Colson sings your praises of how amazing you did for him as he peppers your back with gentle kisses before pulling out. You roll to the dry side of the bed and Colson collapses on top of you, the both of you out of breath.

“Oh God, baby, thank you.” Colson expresses his gratitude as he kisses your neck. “You have no idea how much that got me going.”

“Oh, I think I have a pretty good idea.” you tease. “Let’s just say we will definitely be doing this again.

#mgk #mgk fanfic #mgk smut #mgk x reader #machine gun kelly #machine gun kelly fanfic #machine gun kelly smut #machine gun kelly x reader #colson baker #colson baker reader #colson baker smut #colson baker fanfic

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hanazou · 4 years

Note

So um .. I just recently found your blog and even though you haven't written that much but you really have a unique writing style and I'm in love 🥺💞 .

So may I please request fyodor and/or sigma headcanons or scenario (whatever you're feeling comfortable with ) being on a date with their s/o and getting lost somewhere trying to find their way back home ? I mean it's just so adorable and been on my mind for a while.

And thank you 💚

𝐨𝐧 𝐚 𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐟𝐲𝐨𝐝𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐦𝐚 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐭.

— how did you end up here? getting lost wasn't on the agenda.

Book : Fyodor | Sigma

Genre : Fluff with romance or implied romance

Category: Scenario

Word count : 0.8K | 1K

Bookshelves : Leatherbound

Note : I love this request! Thank you so, SO much for requesting Fyodor and Sigma! Truthfully these are far from being my best works, but I hope you enjoy this, love! It took me a while since I had to make sure these are in-character :") Thank you for the patience!

I hope you enjoy these! 💛

“This is quite the view,” Fyodor smiles to himself, fingers treading around his chin like creeping vines. “Yokohama has a sophistication to it after all.”

“Fyodor,” His name from your mouth rolls out slower compared to the cars on the road near you both to give the impression that your patience is unscathed. “We’re lost.”

Yokohama isn’t too huge of a prefecture for you and Fyodor to get lost in while exploring for the sake of the upcoming Cannibalism scheme, but since you both insist to check out even the smallest of details because one can never be too perfect, exploring took the whole day. Outlining the landmarks on a map would have sufficed, but you and Fyodor agreed that travelling in first-person is more helpful in discovering things that can trick the enemies, and that agreement led you travelling together.

It wasn’t hard for someone to get drunk in this cozy atmosphere and forget why they were here, especially if they’re with someone they trust and are fond of. For you, that person happens to be this pale and sickly genius.

The foreign building structures, the bustling unfamiliar crowd, the compact scent from street food vendors you've never tasted, and the crunch of dry leaves under your feet, they are all different from home, but the striking allure and exoticness are undeniable. Hence, you and Fyodor lost track of time and direction. Not to mention his needy eye for aesthetic slows down the pace.

You don’t want to say this aloud, but this atmosphere and mood, doesn’t it feel like going on a date?

Never mind that—you both were having too much fun brainstorming for ideas, too many alleys to check out, too many manholes to note, too many dead ends to utilize for you to recognize both of you have strayed off the planned route. On the bright side is, Fyodor found the ideal, secluded, dead-end alley for him to station his sniper to attack a certain detective, but the bad side is, while chatting with him about how and where to allocate your pawns, you and Fyodor didn’t pay attention to where you’re going.

Where in Yokohama are you now?

Neither of you planned to walk this far around the prefecture, so you can’t pinpoint your position on the map inside your pocket.

“I have great confidence in my memory,” Fyodor gazes around. “I can find our way back.”

“Then why are we still here after—” you look at your watch. “—half an hour?”

“I thought that while having the opportunity, we should take our time to know this area better. There’s artistry in any form of structure even in those we will decimate soon.” He pivots his head to you. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

He sounds like he’s beating around the bush. He won’t admit he got both of you lost.

You hum. “You still don’t know where we are,” You bring the focus back to your point. “Let me take my turn navigating our way back home,” You reach for the minimap in your pocket. “You’ve had your share of getting us lost.”

You wonder how in the world a prodigy like Fyodor affords to get lost. You consider the possibility of him being distracted by this little trip (that feels like a date) itself since you caught yourself doing that, but you shake off that thought. You ought to stop being delusional.

“As you wish,” He smiles at your proposal. “But only because you insist.”

You make wild guesses of your current position by observing the buildings and shops, try to figure out where you are on the map, and take the lead in guiding yourself and Fyodor back. He follows your headship without any protests, taking the same turn as you elegantly.

You catch Fyodor also observing the map with you while he matches his legs in coordination with yours. His eyes turn to you and his raised dark brows ask you why you’re staring at him.

“Is it because you’re not confident I can take us back that you’re watching the map with such focus?” You bait, half smiling.

You want him to admit that he trusts you. It’s a pleasant feeling, hearing someone like him value your judgement.

He made a soft chortle from his chest. “Impossible, my dear,” Fyodor says.

He stops in his tracks.

The sudden halt makes you pause too, and you lower the map to look at his whole face.

You jolt when he takes your hand with his icy pale fingers, guiding your palm to rest on his chest. His coolness mixing with your warmth creates a perfect state of equilibrium that mirrors both your difference yet similarity with him.

“I simply enjoy our mundane little detour.” His voice's vibration from his chest rumbles your hand. His smile is like cotton, but the sharp violet in his eyes holds power over you. “Allow my heartbeat to be the witness of honesty in my words.”

His heartbeat thumps in an orderly calming pattern, his chilly skin still sheathing your hand to press it against his chest.

Ah.

So maybe getting lost isn’t so bad after all.

Your eyebrows quirk when you notice the same scenery outside the car window, forehead matted against the cold glass. “Are you sure this is the right way?”

Sigma’s lips tense down, still staring at the road ahead. “Uhm, yes?” His eyes dart at you for one second.

The two of you, Sigma and yourself, are on your way to visit the last potential location for Sky Casino to expand its branch down below. He demonstrated more than enough faith in your judgement when he invited you to travel to the cities under the sky, offering you a ride in his lavish car. If it were with another person, you wouldn’t see too much into this situation. But with Sigma, it’s a whole different story.

It was the having a luncheon together in a prestigious restaurant of a five star resort with him ordering the best dish for you with a warm smile when he described your order to the waiter. Another being his gentlemanly mannerism, he made a shallow bow when allowing you into his car and opened the door for you, also holding your hand as you got in. The hospitality and elegance from his demeanour excites your heartbeat.

In Sky Casino, he may be your employer and you his employee, but with just the two of you, he makes you feel like the most treasured royalty.

Sigma clears his throat, his fist in front of his mouth while the other around the steering wheel. “I’m certain I’ve memorized every route for the casino’s potential branches.” He glances at the note on the dashboard where the addresses are.

You raise your eyebrows seeing a tower ahead. “And I’m certain we’ve passed that tower in front of us at least twice.”

The expression Sigma makes is made of mild surprise, frustration, and gloom.

"Let's face it," You slouch down your seat. "We're lost."

Sigma repeatedly looks from the scribbled map on the dashboard to the road back and forth, fingers squeezing the wheel in uneasiness. “I could’ve sworn we took the right turn this time…”

Your shoulders deflate at the expression Sigma makes. You feel bad for putting it bluntly. “How about I drive while asking for directions from the locals? You must be tired since we’ve been travelling for hours.”

His head turns swiftly at you, long dual-coloured hair whishing. “You know where we are?” He asks before quickly turning his sight back to the road, stealing glances.

“Not exactly, but I’m familiar with the local dialect and I can ask for directions easily.”

The hesitation and disappointment are still evident on Sigma’s face. You purse your lips, hesitant in how to phrase your next words. “Employers employ people to be assisted with the workload and to have someone to share concerns with. I’m not here just for you to treat me like royalty, I’m also here to assist you.”

Sigma huffs a smile, taking chances to look at your face now and then. “Do you mind the treatment for a royalty?”

“No.” You deny a little too fast. You clear your throat, ignoring the heat in your cheeks. “Absolutely not,” You speak slower. “But even royalties have to give back, right?”

He fails to hide his laughter. He sounds so free, unrestrained, and possibly the most relaxed that day, making your cheeks swell with a prideful smile. As long as he gets to laugh, you don't mind sounding silly. “By asking for directions while talking using a local dialect?” He asks.

Sigma lightly giggles. “Alright, you win.” He slows down the car, eyeing the rear mirror to make a quick stop at the side of the road. “I’m afraid to crash us from feeling exhausted anyways.”

He makes a parallel park and the car comes to a full stop, engine still smoothly running and vibrating the interior.

You ruffle his silky dual-coloured hair as smooth as the leather seat. “Don’t be too hard on yourself,” You say, tinting his cheeks pink. “Allow me to treat you like royalty from now on.”

When you retract your hand, Sigma’s head automatically follows with the yearning to get more touch.

Your eyes enlarge and so does his. He whirls away, hands hiding his face. Loud and uncontrolled laughter erupts from your belly despite you covering your mouth to tone it down. You want to stop—but your chest keeps heaving out the joy, raising your shoulders to your ears.

Sigma shrinks in embarrassment, his long hair curtaining his face as he buries his head to his knees. He looks like a tulip in that driver’s seat. With his fair pale skin, even from your distance you can see the red on his face. “Please don’t tell anyone about it…” His voice can be barely distinguished from your untamed laugh.

“The secret’s safe with me.” You wipe a tear as your laughter slows down. You exhale a wide smile, unbuckling your seatbelt. “Alright, let’s switch now before the sun sets.”

“Wait!” Sigma springs out from his position and hurries his hand to land on yours before you open your door. You tilt your head, and he responds with “Don’t open the door yet.”

He dashes out and jogs to get to your side of the car. He opens your door and stands on the side with a shallow bow, his empty hand offered to you. You stifle a giggle when you accept his hand that gently helps you up until you fully stand outside.

You grin for the umpteenth time at Sigma’s chivalry that reminds you of the demonstration of romance during the regency era. It’s simple things like this that boosts your confidence and comfort around him. You can definitely get used to this.

That is until Sigma’s bow deepens so his lips kiss your hand.

You tense. You expected a normal escort when stepping out. The unforeseen princely kiss and his smile send you on haywire—why are you even there? Why did you go all this way into an unfamiliar city? Just to get kissed? To have him act like your Prince? Why is he even kissing you?

“Even without disembarking a journey I still get lost in your touch and laughter.” He straightens his body, elevating your hand to stay on his lips and chin. You feel his breath on your skin. “Thank you for giving me the honour of getting lost with you.”

Then you remember.

You're there to be with him.

📜 ; like what you read? visit my bookshop!

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intergalacticwanderer · 3 years

Text

It happened faster than any of them could react.

Overall, things had been going well. The sea monsters were on their last legs, they had the numbers with all of the Mighty Nein present, and it was only a matter of time before they’d come out on the other side. But in combat mere seconds can make all of the difference and one monster slipped through at just the wrong place and time, burying its claws into Kingsley’s back.

He swore, blood bursting from his neck and the monster’s eyes bleeding black, but it wasn't enough, the monster digging the claws in deeper and dragging him off of the ship, two of them going over the rail and into the ocean. He heard someone screaming his name, muffled through the water - and then the claws found his throat, and he didn't hear anything at all.

But something else started to happen.

He didn't know where he was. He knew, at the very least, that he wasn't in the ocean, his surroundings too indistinct and no longer able to feel the water around him. But even with being able to tell where he wasn’t, that still didn’t tell him anything about where he was. In fact, the only source of light Kingsley could see was - himself?

He looked down, startled, and saw that his own form seemed to be made of softly glowing light, a strange in between of tangible and intangible, floating in place. He... he didn’t understand. What was this? Kingsley raised a hand, both confused and awed at the sight.

The fingers began to disintegrate right in front of him.

He recoiled at the sight and the hand - HIS hand - broke apart even further, the once distinct outline now breaking into individual motes of light that slowly drifted away. He scrabbled with his other hand, as if to try and staunch a bleeding wound, but all that did was scatter the remaining bit of light from the hand even faster and he yanked his arm back. To his horror it was happening on other parts of his body as well, chunks carving out and being eaten away, motes continuing to drift, like paper burning into embers, or scattering sea foam, or or or - It felt like he should be hyperventilating. Was he hyperventilating? There wasn’t any sound, he couldn’t tell, could he even-?

Kingsley tried to hold on to his thoughts but they began to disintegrate too, and that realization, the fact that he could feel that happening, sent a bolt of terror through him even greater than the sight of what was happening to his body. He twisted in place, panic rising higher and higher as his body continued to disintegrate, looking for something, anything around him, but. Nothing.

The remaining parts of his legs and tail separated from his torso, stomach now gone, and while it felt like there should have been sound it continued to be completely silent, his thoughts reeling and disoriented as the parts spun away, quickly dissolving and scattering. What was- he couldn’t- who-

Further light scattered and so did his memories. His thoughts. His name. He drifted, motes rising up from near his eyes. Something from eyes. Tears? He didn’t know. Couldn't know. He was small, getting smaller, too small, no stop pleasenoPLEASESTOPNOPLEASE-

Sensation and clarity of thought slammed into him.

Kingsley (Kingsley!) gasped in a breath of air, coughing and shuddering. He was cold. Wet. Someone was holding him, cradling him between arms, one under his shoulders, the other under his knees, and his tail was dangling, limp. He blinked open his eyes. Two faces were directly above him, and there were glimpses of others in his peripheral, just out of direct sight but hovering close. The first face he could see was Fjord, wet hair clinging to his face and breathing heavily. He... he was the one holding him, wasn’t he. The second was Jester, shaking hands hovering over his chest and a faint shimmer fading from the air. He met her eyes.

“Jester...?”

A sharp inhale, and then a laugh, which turned into a heavy, wracking sob, and Jester buried her face into his chest and continued to cry. Others poured in then, crowding close with words of worry and comfort, but Kingsley barely heard them, still too stunned and numb from all that had just happened, and he didn’t react at all.

***

Over the next few days, Kingsley found himself in the company of at least one other member of the Mighty Nein at all times.

Fjord asked him for more advice and assistance around the ship. Jester sought him out even more than normal to ask about drawings, or tattoo ideas, or ship gossip. Caduceus invited him meditate. Caleb and Essek just happened to read their books nearby. Beau dragged him along to sparring practice, his complaints that he didn't even fight hand to hand normally falling on deaf ears. Yasha ended up clinging to him during sleep (though, in that case, he had been the one to initiate at least half of those). And Veth - well, he was pretty sure Veth was just straight up spying on him, but he didn't really begrudge her that.

Usually, Kingsley would have found the hovering his friends were doing to be suffocating, but this time? He sought their company right back, determined to not be alone.

There was no way around it - he had died. Full stop. That would have been bad enough on it's own but of course he had an... interesting relationship with death and revival, and it didn’t escape him that Jester had only started crying once he’d said her name. Like she’d been waiting to hear what his first word would be.

Wondering if that word was going to be “empty.”

He couldn’t tell if that made him feel better or worse. Better because they obviously cared about him, wanted him to be okay and to be the one to come back. Worse, because, well. Last time he’d been the one to come back saying empty. And they had to have gotten that fear from somewhere.

He sighed, pulling the blanket around his shoulders closer as he sat on the deck, watching the bright light of Catha above in the sky. Everyone was out on the deck at that moment, quietly talking after a late night meal and Caleb's dancing lights softly illuminating things along with the moonlight.

The main thing eating at him was the time in between falling into the ocean and the revivify spell, and he shuddered involuntarily at his mind’s word choice. He still didn't understand what that had been, but whatever it was it’d been terrifying, too strange to fall under normal experience and too vivid to “just” be a strange dream. The closest thing he had... his fingers tightened on his blanket. His reoccurring dream- nightmare- memory. Fighting in Cognouza, fighting back against Lucien, breaking free. Drifting away with hundreds of other lights. Drifting...

“Can I ask you all a question?”

Eight other heads turned to him, conversations stopping, and he had to fight to not shrink away. He was the one who’d asked.

“Kind of a morbid one but, wondering about who else has died here. You all know a lot more than me right now.”

He knew of a few past deaths. Glory Run Road. Those in... Cognouza. He wasn’t particularly fond of thinking about any of those from his perspective, however. Better to hear stories from others.

Several of them glanced between each other. Essek was the first to speak up.

“Personally, I have been lucky enough to not require any resurrection magic, and I hope it will remain that way in the future. I believe the same is true for Beauregard?”

Beau nodded. “Yeah. It’s gotten close a couple times but I’ve never actually died. Still kinda shocked at that, honestly.”

“I think I’ve died in a dream? Or maybe it was a vision...?” Yasha said, and when she got multiple confused looks she shrugged. “It was a trial from the Stormlord? I’m not really sure if it counts.”

“Let’s call it an in between,” Kingsley said.

“There’s the time I drowned and came back as a goblin,” Veth said quietly and the mood immediately dropped. She took a long drink from her cup. “And I guess there was also that time in the Happy Fun Ball.”

“Which is why we always check for traps,” Caleb said, giving her a pointed look.

Veth waved a hand in the air. “Yeah, yeah, I know.”

“Checking blast radius is also important,” Caduceus said, sipping on his cup of tea. “I was too close to an exploding crossbow bolt once,” Caduceus said matter of fact, and Kingsley was gobsmacked at how serene Caduceus was at having literally been blown up. Then again, it was Caduceus, so he shouldn't be that surprised.

Veth bristled. “Hey!”

“Not assigning any blame, just stating what happened,” Caduceus said and he took another sip.

Three people left, and he already knew what the answer could be from two of them. Jester met his eyes and he gave her a little nod. He was okay with them talking about it.

“The only one I’ve had was when we were fighting Lucien,” Jester said, hands resting in her lap. “It happened really fast, but Caduceus got me back up, and Fjord protected both of us. It was still pretty scary, though.”

“I also went down to Lucien, but later in the fight,” Caleb said. Essek looked particularly miserable at the reminder and Caleb gave him a squeeze on the shoulder. “But the Mighty Nein does not leave anyone behind, so I was okay. And the same is true for you,” Caleb said, giving Kingsley a meaningful look and a nod.

Kingsley nodded back, relieved both at the reassurance and the reminder that they never considered him to be the same as Lucien. Sometimes that was enough against the images of them lifeless below him.

(Sometimes.)

Fjord was the last one left, and he downed the rest of his drink before looking Kingsley directly in the eye.

“I died the first time we were attacked by Uk’otoa’s minions.”

Kingsley gave a start. “Wait, really?”

Fjord nodded. “Really.”

“But- that doesn't make sense.” Fjord was the captain and Uk’otoa attacks, those were just- they were just a thing. An annoying and very dangerous thing, sure, but what had happened to him, that was his fault, he hadn't been careful enough, or-

“Kingsley.”

Fjord still held his gaze, not looking away. “What happened the other day is not your fault. If anything, it’s mine.”

“It totally is,” Veth added in and Fjord sighed.

“Regardless, don't blame yourself. I died to just the same thing and it can happen to any of us. And taking care of this problem is why we’re all on the ship right now anyway.”

“Cheers to that,” Beau said, raising her cup in a toast. “I’ve had enough murder fish for my lifetime.”

There was murmured agreement around the group, several others draining their cups and Kingsley staring at the bottom of his when he finished. So that was six. Two thirds of the Mighty Nein had died at least once, himself included, and Fjord even had a similar cause of death to this last time. Definitely not alone. And yet...

“Do you remember anything? From when you died?”

He didn't look up from his cup but he could just imagine the amount of eyes that would be staring at him right now. Whatever, it was already out there.

“A little,” Fjord said. “Mostly just that it was cold, and feeling scared, but...” Fjord’s voice softened and Kingsley looked over at the change in tone. “I also feel like the Wildmother would have been there to catch me. And that’s comforting in its own way.”

Kingsley nodded, mind going back to the scent of a warm sea breeze. Even though he wasn't a follower himself he knew of the comfort that Fjord spoke of.

Which just made him feel even more miserable in that moment.

“So... nothing else? No kind of visions or anything?” No disintegrating and losing everything while completely alone? His voice cracked a little, no longer able to hide his anxiety.

“Nothing in particular.” Fjord frowned. “...are you alright, Kingsley?”

“... not really, no.” He was too worn out to lie at this point and he hunched over, pulling his blanket even tighter.

“Is that what happened to you Kingsley? A vision?” Jester asked.

“Yes? Maybe? I don’t know, vision isn't quite right, but- I don't know.”

“Well, how would you describe it?”

An involuntary shiver ran up his spine. “An experience, I guess? But not a good one, and if anyone ever tried to sell me that kind of ‘experience’ I’d straight up stab them.”

Kingsley went to take a drink before remembering he’d already finished his and he scowled at his empty cup. Caduceus passed over another one without a word and Kingsley murmured a small thanks, taking a long drink to wet his suddenly dry throat.

“I was made out of light or something like that? But-” His throat closed up and he had to loudly clear it to keep going. “I started to disappear. Like I was just a bunch of dandelion fluff and-” he mimed an explosion with his fingers- “poof. Just blowing away. And it wasn't just my body, it was my memories too. I think Jester got me just in time.” It took a moment for him to realize he was shaking.

“C'mere,” Yasha said quietly, moving closer and holding out an arm, Kingsley almost falling into her side and curling close. She held him in her arm and rubbed his shoulder, his shaking slowly subsiding. There was a stunned silence for several moments.

“What the fuck,” Beau breathed out, finally breaking the silence. “That’s so fucked up.”

“And concerning,” Essek said, a curled finger hovering over his mouth. “I have never heard of anything similar, even in death accounts from consecuted individuals. Caduceus?”

“I also have no idea,” Caduceus said, frowning. “Either way, that doesn't sound like how it should go. Not to me at least.”

“Or me,” Veth said, eyes wide. “Dying’s bad enough, that’s- that’s just excessive!”

“This isn’t exactly making me feel better,” Kingsley grumbled. Sure, it was commiserating, but mostly it was just reminding him of how alone he was with what happened.

Yasha squeezed his shoulder. “Well, what would make you feel better?”

“Answers,” Kingsley said without hesitation. “Just... what the hell that was. Or why it happened. Just something.” He curled further into Yasha’s side, his head and tail now the only things peeking out from under the blanket.

“I can research, but it will have to be after the voyage,” Caleb said. “I do not have a personal archive unfortunately.”

“Yet,” Essek added on, giving Caleb a quick smile. “My ability to help is limited but I could still assist with some of this research.”

“And I’ve got the Cobalt Soul stuff of course,” Beau said. “So, definitely a more long term thing but we’ll find out what we can.”

“Thanks guys,” Kingsley said quietly. He wasn’t a fan of the wait but just the chance of answers and the fact they were willing to do it still meant a lot.

All through this Fjord had had a hand on his chin, contemplative, and he looked over at both Jester and Caduceus. “Maybe you two could ask for some godly input? It’s worked before and it shouldn’t hurt at least.”

Caduceus nodded “I say it’d be worth trying out.”

Jester nodded as well. “Yeah! It’d be nice if we could get some answers right away. You want us to give it a shot Kingsley?”

“Please,” he said, latching onto the mention of ‘right away’ and pushing away the small shiver at directly asking the gods for help. That sort of thing was the entire reason he was even alive at all, but even when it was positive the idea of it still freaked him out a little. That didn’t mean he was going to pass up the help however, and he looked at the two of them expectantly.

Jester looked over at Caduceus. “You want me or you to go first?”

Caduceus gestured towards her. “You go ahead.”

“Okay!” Jester said, and Kingsley watched as she brought Sprinkle down from her shoulder and held him in front of her. “Okay Artie, if you’re there, we could really use some answers about what happened to Kingsley, it’d be suuuuper helpful.”

The moment Jester finished speaking Kingsley found himself hit with a sudden wave of tiredness, and as he slipped into sleep at Yasha’s side he saw one last glimpse of Sprinkle’s eyes flashing a brilliant green.

***

The first thing he heard was the quiet shuffling of cards.

He found himself sitting in a room. A tent? The lighting was soft, coming from a few candles scattered around the space and a lantern in the shape of a crescent moon hanging from the ceiling. Colorful cloth was draped from the walls (or was the walls, if the guess about the tent was correct), and while the colors were muted by the low light he saw it was mostly blues and purples, with a splash of red or silver here and there. The sound of shuffling cards came from the back, where a woman sat behind a low table and fanned out a set of cards in front of her, gave a satisfied nod, and shuffled the cards back into the deck, Kingsley catching a brief glimpse of one that said “The Dream” before it disappeared from view.

The woman was wearing a red coat.

She looked up, caught his eye, and smiled. “It has been awhile, has it not?”

Kingsley was unable to speak, heart in his throat but he nodded anyway. He recognized her, would recognize her anywhere, but he had never expected to actually see her again. That dream he’d had in his first day had been precious but fleeting, starting to fade even at the time and he’d resigned himself to never fully knowing what it’d been about. The two parts that had managed to stick with him were the sad angel and the woman in the red coat, and while the angel had been revealed to be Yasha no one had known anything about the woman, and over time he began to wonder if she had been based on an actual person at all. And now here she was.

She placed the deck of cards down on the table and gestured for him to come forward, Kingsley moving up to sit cross legged on a red plush cushion, setting down gingerly and his tail curling up next to him. The fact that he had fallen asleep just before this told him that this should be a dream, but at the same time it felt as if it were something more. Something important. Clasping her hands together on the table she held his gaze, expression serious.

“Normally, I would deliver this kind of message through a reading, to avoid saying too much and to allow ambiguity in the meaning. But what I must say is important enough to be blunt. Your soul is fragile, Kingsley Tealeaf.”

Kingsley swallowed hard. He didn’t know who she was, not really, but absolute truth still rang in her words. “W-what does that mean?”

“In practical terms, returning from death is far more dangerous for you than some of your friends.” She opened up her hands and in between them was a ball of softy glowing light. “If your soul is returned to life quickly enough, as it was this last time, there may not be too many complications. But if you are dead for too long...” At her words the ball of light shuddered and then it scattered just like Kingsley remembered and he flinched back, breathing heavily, having to catch himself on one of his hands as dozens of motes of light rose up around them and then dissipated. She brought her hands back together, looking at him sadly. “I am sorry you had to experience a portion of that. It is not something I would wish on anyone.”

He slowly brought his breathing back under control and righted himself on the cushion, emotions stuck between a giddy rush at the fact that Jester’s intervention seemed to have actually worked and terror at the reminder of what had happened to him. Not to mention that something was wrong with his actual soul itself, so, plenty more potential terror and possible nightmares for him there. But for right now, at least...

“Is there anything I can do to... ‘fix’ my soul? And do you know why it’s like that?”

“For your first question, it will mostly just take time.” She cupped her hands in front of her, smaller motes of light reappearing and coalescing until once again she held a ball of light, and she lifted it up to float above their heads, the space around them now brighter. “The longer it has, the better it will be. It is both as simple and as complicated as that, unfortunately.”

“As for the why...” She spread an arc of cards out on the table with one hand and smoothly flipped them over with a pass from the other, but instead of individual cards it was a picture that continued from one card to the next.

“The journey your soul has gone through is far from normal. In fact, some would say it is astonishing that it exists at all.” She trailed her finger along the edge of the card created artwork, narrating as she did so.

“Your soul began with the sundering of a different soul, life springing from death when none should have been there.” A body pulling itself halfway out of a grave, hands scrabbling on the ground, red eyes shining in the face but also on the body. “This soul fragment may have started as just one piece of a larger whole, but something important happened. It changed. And it grew.” Hands helping the purple tiefling to stand, him walking forward and gaining additional color and vitality with each step. Tattoos, jewelry, vibrant clothes, the gaudiest coat imaginable. A bright and happy smile. “The love and experiences your soul had, both good and bad, allowed it to become a full soul in its own right, separate from where it came from.” Helping out at a circus, performing. Blood flashing along blades and becoming ice in an early taste of combat. Sitting side by side, content, with a certain aasimar. Riding along in a cart with the aasimar and five other individuals, sun low on the horizon. “And then... an end.” Blood stains on snow by a road. A coat placed on a staff, fluttering in the wind. “But not the end.”

A new arc of cards was laid down and revealed below the first, with a new artwork. “The soul that yours originally came from was brought back, and it had forcibly reclaimed your soul.” Four figures standing next to an empty grave, the body of the purple tiefling rising into the air and surrounded by magic. “At first, it seemed that your soul had been subsumed.” The group of five, purple tiefling in the lead, bundled up and trudging through a harsh winter landscape. Bodies left in their wake. “But your soul had become its own, and because of that it could no longer slot neatly into place.” Two tieflings sitting across from each other, one purple, one blue, three tarot cards suspended between them. The purple tiefling standing in front of a circular gate before eight other individuals, many of them from the prior artwork. “Your soul fought back, and it eventually helped to free itself from its prison.” Screaming at those eight from a changed body, nine eye stalks coming from the back. An even more monstrous form, torn in half by its own hands.

One final set of cards was placed. Revealed.

“Your friends then attempted to return your soul. But it failed.” A body lying on the ground, partially covered by the gaudy coat and bisected by a new scar. Eyes closed. “It took a prayer to the Wildmother and her intervention for it to be successful.” The same body, standing, eyes open, the ground now covered in greenery and flowers. “However, your soul did not come out unscathed. Not broken, or missing parts, but... injured.” The body now shown as an outline, filled with glowing light. Light that was rough around the edges, shot through with spiderweb cracks. “The time it was forcibly shoved in with originating soul, and having to separate itself out from it again, was traumatic.” A large pair of hands, each hand holding a source of light, one angry and boiling, the other small and dimmed, but warm. “Still the same soul, but changed by the experience. Needing time to relearn. And to heal.” The purple tiefling sitting in a lush graveyard garden, surrounded by both flowers and friends. Sailing on a ship, hanging from the rigging and hair tossed in the wind.

She pulled back, resting her hands on the table. “Your soul is whole, and your own, but less... stable under stress, as it were. There is no way to know for sure, since it has not happened, but I suspect that if you were brought back after a longer period of death you would be in a similar state as to when you woke in the city, due to the healing your soul would need again. I do know however that your friends would do everything they could to return you from death.”

“They would,” Kingsley said, without even thinking about it. His attention was still stuck on the cards. The artwork, as stylized as it was, captured a certain life to it. It felt... real. Alive. But at the same time, something felt off. Something missing.

“Kingsley.”

He startled, as if released from a spell, and he closed his eyes and let out a long breath. When he opened his eyes again he saw her giving him a concerned look. “Sorry,” he said quickly. “I, ah. Thank you?”

Her concern didn’t fade.

“Something about this troubles you.” Not a question. A statement of fact.

“Are there other art cards in that deck?” The words spilled out of him. “I mean, they’re gorgeous, and they worked really well, but, are you sure there’s not more?”

She tilted her head, gaze growing sharp.

“There are if you want there to be.”

Something about the way she said that made him pause. He looked down at the cards again. Three rows.

Three names, he realized.

The last one, Kingsley. Him. His body, his soul, himself. The second, Lucien. Most definitely not him, and she had confirmed that as well with differentiating the souls, even with the strange situation of the shared body and his nightmares. And the first... Mollymauk. A different name, a different life, but according to her, the same body. The same soul. His hand gripped his knee, nails digging in.

His soul was his, and Kingsley would fight anyone who implied otherwise or tried to take that away. He knew from experience, however, that he might not have a choice. His eyes lingered on the second set of cards. Flicked to the first for just a moment.

“... maybe not.”

She inclined her head, and nodded. Her hands hovered over the cards and he made a go ahead gesture, and she scooped them up, one, two, three rows, shuffling them back into the deck.

“I admit, I am not accustomed to speaking of things so plainly,” she said lightly as she shuffled the deck. “Partially due to preference, and partially due to limitations I am often bound to. But a prior... interloper decided to facilitate as a way to make amends.” Kingsley saw a flash of another card, this time with a silver dragon, but it was gone too quickly for him to read the title. “It is difficult to judge the character of one such as him, but he was actually the one to ask for help first.” A small laugh. “Luckily for him, this was something I had wished to do anyway. He simply made it easier.”

Kingsley was almost positive the interloper she spoke of was Artagan, but that just raised even more questions. He’d known coming into this that she was mysterious, and that she had to get her answers from somewhere, but the fact that Artagan had been the one to ask her for help?

Another shiver ran through him, even stronger than the one he had pushed away on the ship. Caduceus and Jester would go to their gods when they needed help. So that meant that if one their gods (or sort-of-god, when it came to Artagan) asked someone else for help, that person was...

“I understand if you can’t answer, but. Who are you?”

The shuffling of the cards stopped.

“Do you want to know that answer?”

She was giving him an out. It was probably even a good idea for him to take it.

“Yes.”

He wasn’t going to take it.

She smiled again and set the now shuffled deck down on the table, drawing the top card and handing it to him. Moon and mirror, with the moon facing him, though with one key difference from the card in Jester’s deck - the crescent moon was strung like a bow.

Kingsley stared at the card, heart hammering in his chest.

“...I’m really sorry, but I have no idea what that means.”

She blinked, taken aback, before noticing his slightly manic grin and she burst out laughing.

“I think you almost believed that yourself for a moment,” the Moonweaver said and she graciously accepted the card when Kingsley handed it back to her, him immediately going and sitting on his hands afterwards to hide their shaking. “Unless you’d still prefer for me to say it out loud?”

“Nope, I’m good,” Kingsley said quickly. He was totally good right now, not panicking at all, nope. He got a raised eyebrow at that response, but her smile was still there as well and she didn’t press him.

Kingsley’s leg bounced as she placed the card back into the deck, having to actively work to keep his breathing steady. On some level, he knew that his perspective on the gods and faith was a bit skewed. Fjord sailed the seas with the Wildmother’s blessing. Caduceus had performed literal miracles with the Wildmother’s help (and, once again, one of those was the entire reason he was even alive at all). Yasha was a full fledged champion of the Stormlord. And proper god or not, Jester was still outright friends with Artagan.

In comparison, his own tentative explorations towards faith and the gods had felt like they didn’t really count. He’d learned about the Moonweaver, and her commandments had resonated with him, so he’d decided to follow them. He didn’t actively worship, or ask for blessings, or go out of his way to do things on her behalf. Instead Kingsley mostly just lived his life, sending a small prayer when it felt right and taking some comfort in the light of the moons. That was it. The big stuff, that was what his friends did. They were the ones who...

He looked around at the rest of the tent again, trying to distract himself. With his new knowledge he saw nods to the Moonweaver throughout, most of the decor having been subtle enough on its own to escape attention the first time around, though, okay, maybe the lantern hanging from the ceiling was a bit on the nose. It was an understated but beautiful space, and just one more reminder that he was talking to a literal actual god right now.

Maybe that hadn’t been the best way to try and distract himself.

Her casual comment of ‘something I had wished to do anyway’ spun over and over again in his head, him trying to figure out what the hell that even meant and dread growing at what it could mean. It didn’t make sense. Why-

“Why me?”

He’d just said that out loud. Fuck.

Kingsley looked back to her and nearly jumped when he realized that she’d been staring at him the entire time, swearing several more times in his head and wondering if he’d just pissed her off. But instead of anger her expression was soft.

“Why not you?”

Whatever he’d expected to hear, it hadn’t been that.

His brain stalled. There were so many things he wanted to say in response. So many things he knew he should NOT say in response. But she hadn’t said anything else yet, simply watching him and her hands resting on the table. He slumped, bringing his hands back to his lap.

“Because I’m not actually who you think I am?”

That got him another raised eyebrow, but this time there was no accompanying smile, and he quickly continued. “I know I’ve met you before, in that dream, but that wasn’t- I wasn’t even me yet. I didn’t know who I was s-so it makes sense that you were there for someone else.” Fuck, he knew this was a bad idea, second guessing the decision of, once again, A LITERAL ACTUAL GOD, but the sour sick fear that had been growing in the background was finally too much for him to ignore.

“Mollymauk, right? You said yourself that he’s where my soul came from and what if I'm just-” His voice cracked, and he hastily scrubbed a tear away from the corner of his eye. “I know he was a follower of yours, and he did a better job than any of the half measures I’ve ever sent your way, so. That’s why not me.” Kingsley couldn’t hold her gaze anymore and he looked down, eyes boring into his lap. “And maybe you were there for me, originally, whoever I was. But I still fucked that up anyway.”

A couple frustrated tears dropped down and landed on the back of his hands, Kingsley feeling like he was about to scream. His soul was HIS. He was Kingsley. He was himself. He knew who he was. He was. He was supposed to know who he was. He...

(Breaking apart. Disintegrating. Motes of light drifting away).

A hand cupped his check and his breath hitched, and then his breathing almost stopped entirely when a gentle kiss was pressed to his forehead.

“Time for that later,” she murmured, and then she was pulling back, tilting his chin up with her hand. She was kneeling in front of him, just a couple feet away and table now gone.

“Yes. Mollymauk is where your soul is from. And yes, my first visit in that dream was to see you, in part because of the sacrifices you had made in Cognouza, and in part because of a life lived in full and prior faith. But there is something important you must understand.” She held his gaze, not looking away. “You are not inferior to Mollymauk. You are not a mistake. And you do not have to fear losing yourself and becoming him, because he has already become you.”

Her hand cupped his check again, and she smiled softly.

“You are Kingsley Tealeaf. And I am so proud of all that you are.”

Mollymauk was... him?

Kingsley swayed in place. He didn’t know whether to cry, or to laugh, or what even to do at all. Instead he just sat there, feeling lightheaded at what had just happened. He wasn’t dead for disrespect. She had actually listened to him. Reassured him. Her. A god.

“I think I need to lie down,” he said weakly.

She gave a small laugh, withdrawing her hand and Kingsley slow motion flopped onto his side, before rolling to his back and staring at the ceiling. There were stars embroidered in the fabric up there. He hadn’t seen that before.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw her sitting down next to him, leaning on one of her hands. “Feel better?”

“Yeah,” he said. He could almost pick out some constellations in the embroidered stars.

“Good.” She played with one last tarot card in her free hand, just barely visible to him. A sun rising over a grave. Dawn.

Slowly, almost so slow that he missed it at first, the lights in the tent started dim. Eventually the only light left was a faint glow from the crescent moon lantern, and, to his quiet awe, the embroidered stars themselves, silver threads glimmering with magic.

“There are only a few more things left for me to say.”

He tilted his head to look in her direction. Even in the low light he could still see her clearly, and he realized she was actually the final source of light in the space, her white hair and blue skin giving off a faint luminescence.

“If a day comes where things are not fast enough, where others are not able to reach you in time and you cannot remember with your mind, remember with your heart like you did once before. Even when starting over, a home and a family will still be waiting for you.”

She glowed a little brighter, surroundings starting to fade.

“Hopefully, by the time you pass on your soul will be healed enough that you no longer have to worry. But if that is not the case...”

She leaned down, held his face in both of her hands, and placed one last kiss on his forehead.

“I will be there. Shine bright, my little monarch.”

He closed his eyes, for a single blink-

-And opened them to the deck of The Nein Heroez.

“-I told you, I’m not the one who knows. I just sent him along to someone who does, he’ll be fine.”

“I’m surprised she didn’t smite you,” Kingsley croaked and Artagan whirled around, pointing at him.

“See! I told you, he’s fine.”

Jester gasped. “Kingsley!”

“Welcome back,” Yasha murmured, and she gave him a hug with the arm around his shoulder.

“Wait, smite? Who the fuck did you send him to?” Beau said, shooting Artagan a look.

“Well! It looks like my work here is done,” Artagan said, completely ignoring Beau and clapping his hands together. “Just let me know when you need something again Jester, tah!”

He vanished in a swirl of green cloak before Beau could get another word in, and she groaned.

“Ugh. He didn't even do anything himself.”

“Yes he did!” Jester said, and she looked at Kingsley. “... it did work, right?”

“... yeah,” he said, a little dazed, and he reached up to touch his forehead. He was going to need time to process that. A lot of time.

“See! He did do something!”

Fjord gave him a thoughtful look. “Who did he send you to? You seem a little overwhelmed.”

“T-the Moonweaver.”

That got everyone’s attention on him at once. A couple of them blanched.

“... you were not kidding with the smite comment,” Caleb said, eyes a little wide.

Essek looked around at the group and everyone’s expressions. “Being sent to a god is notable, but I feel I am missing some additional context here.”

“We um. Miiight have had a plan where Artie pretended to be the Moonweaver?” Jester said.

“It went badly,” Fjord said bluntly.

“As in dragged off into the sky in chains badly,” Veth added on.

Essek blinked, then shook his head. “I should not even be surprised anymore.”

“I was pretty surprised the first time I heard about it,” Kingsley said, shrugging. “And I only heard about it cause of all the times the ship docked at Rumblecusp. I think you're good.”

Essek gave him a wry grin. “Well. I am glad I am not the only one to hear about things after the fact.”

“You get used to it,” Caduceus said, smiling. “And we’re all here now, so, you don’t have to worry about it this time.”

“True enough,” Kingsley said and he stretched, sitting up straight but still at Yasha’s side.

“What did you learn?” Yasha asked.

“Well... the main thing is she said my soul is. Fragile? And that if I’m dead too long I might forget things again. But she also said it’ll heal after enough time so it’s not all bad?” Her last words to him, about what she would do if it hadn’t healed yet, echoed in the back of his mind.

“It’s still not great though,” Beau said, sitting with her arm resting on a raised knee. “She tell you any way to fix it sooner?”

He shook his head. “She just said it’d take time.” After a second he glanced over to Essek and Caleb. “And I don’t think she meant your kind of stuff. Sorry nerds.”

“Magic cannot fix everything,” Caleb said. “As much as we might want it to.” He was lost in thought for a moment before Essek squeezed his hand, Caleb returning the gesture.

Kingsley took a moment to inhale the ocean air, grounding himself, before fully flopping back against Yasha like a cat and she chuckled, starting to comb her fingers through his hair.

“What else did you guys talk about? You were gone for a while,” Jester said.

Kingsley hesitated.

He didn’t really know why he was hesitating. Maybe he was afraid. Of what, he wasn’t sure, but that fear that had bubbled over while talking to the Moonweaver wasn’t totally gone. And maybe it was the fact that he still didn’t know what to make of things himself yet. But he also remembered the words she’d said towards the end, that even if he forgot, he would still have a family. And a home.

(An even more distant memory. Of him asking for home, and Jester saying yeah, we can go home).

He saw Caduceus watching him out of the corner of his eye, expression knowing, but the cleric didn’t push, and that was what made the decision for him. The Mighty Nein was his family. And they would be there for him no matter what.

“Well,” Kingsley said, pausing for dramatic effect. “To start, she was wearing this red coat...”

He launched into retelling, knowing that he had his family, his home, and that his heart would remember for as long as he would need.

#Critical Role #cr spoilers #Kingsley Tealeaf #Mollymauk Tealeaf #Mollymauk #The Mighty Nein #The Moonweaver #Critical Role fanfiction #my writing #things get better for him don't worry #he just gets mildly traumatized first #AO3 link in reblog

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stoneworldsimp · 3 years

Text

the dying poet

senku x reader

warnings: angst, mentions of food/water deprivation, swearing

day seven.

fuck, fuck, FUCK!

it felt like you had been running for hours, trying to shake this wild animal off. you made sharp turns behind large bushes in hopes of losing it, you’d hold as still as possible behind large roots on the ground, but the animal kept finding you in one way or another.

“please go away,”you panted. “c’mon. you’ve been chasing me fucking forever, can’t you just give up?!”

you were tired; your legs were about to buckle in on themselves. dinner one night was suddenly ruined when you realized the fucker was watching you eat. in the beginning you thought it was only after your food, not you; you threw a random ration away from your camp in hopes to get it away from you. in hindsight, it only worked until you fell asleep.

you were lucky to wake up the next morning alive; your set up had been ripped to shreds, and footprints were on the ground around your body. it was painstakingly slow and nerve wracking to escape your position, but once you had everything you absolutely needed, you booked it.

sprinting for miles after miles proved to be very difficult for quite some time now.

the phone...it’s weighing me down. my bag of food isn’t even half as heavy as the phone.

looking down at the call button in your hand, you thought about tossing the phone. maybe i can fix it.. no, i don’t have any tools, the fucking animal chewed on them like dog bones. is there any way to put the wire back together...?

“FUCK my life!”

you took the phone off your back and threw it to you left, careful not to trip yourself in the process. immediately, you and your body felt the difference. with your new found energy, the run away was becoming easier, and helped you see a large cave just over the horizon. using the last of your energy, you took as large of steps as you can, and practically threw your body into the cave. the animal’s footsteps were nowhere to be heard, but you figured you didn’t want to take any chances and look behind you. you were finally breaking free from being chased, just a little deeper into this cave, and if i can find specific markings then i can backtrack—

a deep, loud rumble took you away from your thoughts. in no time, you were engulfed in dust and thick particles you didn’t know of.

the caved had closed in.

day one.

“i can do it.”

“are you sure? its a pretty perilous trip—“

“you should at least bring one other person with you—“

you sighed, exasperated that you had to defend your case once again. it had been days since the decision was made; you were going to make a trip to another part of the island in hopes to find extremely specific materials for one of senku’s projects... and it was far, far away.

quite frankly, you were the only one fit for the adventure. you were known to travel well on foot, had an exceptional sense of direction and you had a good eye for natural elements, as well as food; you also were unintentionally the least helpful when staying in the village. you didn’t have the crafting skills to successfully make glass or metal components for his experiments, and you never trusted your brain when helping senku with calculations and blueprints.

hearing senku and gen talk about this long trip to another part of the island was almost a dream come true. it was perfect for someone with your skillset, and kept you from being in the way of everybody else.

“it’ll be fine. c’mon, you guys have SOME faith in our traveler, right?”

you turned around, a smile on your face as you caught senku walking out of his lab. thank you, you mouthed.

once senku reached you and the group of villagers crowding near you, he spoke up again. “this trip is a straight shot from the bridge, the only problem would be that it’s going to take some time. possibly a month just to get there. but you,” he turned to face you,”have excellent outdoorsy-type skills that will make it really easy for you to spot what we need right away. everyone needs to stop worrying, because you’ll be there and back in no time. two months will pass like nothing.”

as the rest of the group walked away, mumbling their skepticisms, senku took your hand and tugged you back to the lab.

“what’re you taking me here for? oh wait,”you planted your feet at the front of the lab curtains, keeping the both of you from entering. “are you making me help you with your math again? because—”

“no, you’re pretty terrible at calculations,”he replied. “i have something for you.”

you puffed out your cheeks in embarrassment, but your expression completely changed once the curtain was opened.

on the table, there was a telephone. if was the size of a backpack, but it still had a speaker, a microphone, and a call button.

“i made it for you to take on the trip, in case you have any emergencies. i fully trust you in your own survival skills, but you never know if something extreme happens.”

you gave his hand a squeeze before letting go. as you walked closer to the table, you touched the outer fabric. you turned back to senku. “thank you.”

“you don’t have to thank me. i’m only making something that’s essential to your travels.”

“even still,” you trailed off. “i appreciate it.”

you turned back around and beamed at senku. “i’m not going to call you until i get there. i want to make sure that no enemies try to tail me if they hear me, as much as i’d want to give in right away and hear your voice. something like that...”

“how corny.” senku smiled and pulled you close while you laughed. you jumped a bit when his hands made their way around your waist.

“a bit touchy today,” you asked, grabbing hold of his shoulders. “but i’m not complaining.”

“i’m stockpiling the feeling of you for the weeks to come. we’ve never spent this much time apart before; it’s only logical.”

“i guess you’re right.”

he kissed you, multiple times; each one was deeper than the last.

day eleven.

he brought me a flower every morning, because i always slept in later than him. he’d wake up at the asscrack of dawn, just to have more time to jot ideas down. i used to try and pull him back to sleep with me, but he was so overflowing with plans, i didn’t want to stop him.

you turned on your side.

i remember he went to explore with chrome really early one morning, and apparently they found some huge meadow with a bunch of plants. ever since then, he would bring me a different kind; it was always a single flower, too. they were different colors and shapes, and some were enormous and some were smaller than my finger. he never woke me up for it, though. he would just leave it for me when i woke up on my own. it was always a surprise, almost startling when i’d open my eyes. it was my own pick-me-up for the day, in a sense.. no matter what happened the night before, waking up to a new type of flower would put me in a good mood every time. it was better than a coffee in the morning.

i wonder if he’s looking at the flowers with chrome everyday while i’m gone. man, i still wake up hoping to see a new one in front of me.

sure, reminiscing was fun and felt good, but what’s the point? you had eaten all of your food approximately two days ago, you only had about a teaspoon of water left, and there was no getting out of there. the way you came in had been covered in a dam of rocks. you couldn’t even dig yourself out.

you furiously wiped the tears that fell from your eyes. “senku...why did i think i could go alone?”

day fifteen.

poke, poke—

something was touching you. no, someone was touching you. your head bobbed side to side, in an attempt to shake them off.

damn, that’s persistent.

opening your eyes, you woke up to senku smiling. he was knelt beside your form. “wake up, sleeping beauty! it’s been almost three hours.”

it’s only been three hours?!

you sat up way too fast, and felt lightheaded as you tried to ask,”but...why didn’t you.. wake me up earlier? did everybody...did everyone eat already?”

he laughed. “yeah, sorry. we all thought you were out doing something with chrome. but,” he turned around, to grab something behind him,”i saved some in case you got hungry when you came back.”

you took the food in a dizzy haze. was it even food? you didn’t care too much, it felt like you hadn’t eaten for a long time. any food at this point was good food.

you couldn’t even swallow the first bite. “do you- is there..any water?”

“what?” senku pulled away from you, a look of disbelief painted across his face. it was clear as day.

you hesitated, feeling more lightheaded than before. “w- water?”

“don’t you remember?” he asked. he turned away from you. “there hasn’t been any water in days.”

it’s been days.

your body jolted from its spot, and harsh reality hit you square in the face.

yes, right. you shakily rubbed your eyes to make sure they weren’t cemented shut.

in the cave, finished your food, no water to be found. making yourself walk around was no use, either; without the fuel, your body was essentially just a trembling mess.

you scowled at yourself; unsure of what to do, what to even think.

day eighteen.

you remembered how he kissed you. the first kisses the most; you always had to tell him to not look so terrified. you also had to remind him to not stand like a statue when you kissed. pretty soon, after some reassurance, he got comfortable. there was nothing but confidence in the way he caressed your face in his hands. usually he was the one to pull away; you were so mesmerized, it felt as if the world completely stopped.

they were always quick and out of the way in public. usually, it was on your forehead or your one of your cheeks. the deep kisses you felt when you two were alone were incomparable. soft lips remained on yours for what felt like centuries. he tasted sweet, in his own way—

wait, who?

you licked your lips slowly, trying to think.

it was no use; you couldn’t even remember what he looked like. you lolled your head to the side and stared at the outline of a rock a couple of feet away.

once i get out of here, i’ll kiss him. whoever it was. it won’t matter if it’s just us, or more people. i’ll kiss him forever.

maybe if i go to sleep.. i can see him again.

#dr stone #dr stone x reader #senku ishigami x reader #senku x reader #ishigami senku x reader #ishigami senku #senku ishigami #dr stone imagines #dr stone scenarios #senku ishigami fluff #aahhh this was a little half baked #I’ve been busy what can I say😔#my semesters almost over and I have a placement test #final drivers test(yes I’m 20 and my ass can’t drive legally)#and another performance with my current schools ensemble #despite all of this. I hope u like what is basically my first attempt with angst!#at* not with ew

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weirdlittlecorner · 3 years

Text

Lin Kuei Hospitality: Sektor

Notes: nsfw, 18+, rough, dominant MC

Plot: Sektor gets on a lot of people's nerves. Nothing a little cloth can't fix

Tags: @lilliannmac @onesillybeach @icy-spicy

It was an easy choice. Once the Grandmaster had given you the go-ahead to pick your gift, your eyes instantly settled on the most curious of the men. The one who took to copying the monarch himself. You were attracted to that long, black hair and the bulging muscles. But what really solidified your choice was that face of his. Or, rather, the expression on it. The other men had kept their expressions neutral, their gazes fixated ahead of them as you made your rounds. But when you had passed over the man in red, he took it as an invitation to conduct an exam of his own. His brown eyes trailed you when you came near as if you were a gift for him. And that tiny smirk that he gave you didn’t help his case, either.

A spark of feistiness flared within you as you returned the judgemental gaze, “I suppose you’ll do,” You snapped.

The tension in the room was tangible. The others were amused by your standoff with who you would soon come to find out was the spoiled brat of the clan. Your target huffed, turning toward the Grandmaster as if seeking assistance. But he was only met with a stern warning from the older man, “Miss L/n is our guest. You will not disappoint me, Sektor,”

It was hard to keep a straight face as the overgrown child- Sektor- crumbled under the Grandmaster’s words, “Of course not, Father,” Father? It all made sense now. The similar clothing, and more notably, the arrogance. Being the child of the closest thing to royalty would surely go to anyone’s head. He clearly had some sort of attitude problem and needed a lesson in humility. You would happily oblige.

After the impromptu scolding, the younger man turned his attention back to you. Without another complaint, he separated from his fellow assassins in favor of following you out of the throne room.

“You’re getting on my nerves already. I’d like you better if you just shut your mouth,” You snapped, your teeth grinding in annoyance. In the span of ten minutes, Sektor had already managed to push all your buttons. And not in a good way.

“I will do nothing of the sort,” He snapped back without hesitation. You were starting to question your decision and wondered if it was too late to exchange the man. No, you couldn’t do that, as you didn’t want to look ungrateful. Especially not when it was the Grandmaster’s own son. This was a strange situation already; it would be best not to make it worse.

So you settled on one more attempt at reasoning with the clan’s golden child, “Try. It might do you some good,” This was supposed to be pleasurable for you, after all. It was silent for a moment, and you grew smug at the fact that the man hadn’t been able to come up with a witty response. But while you did expect some type of attitude, you hadn’t expected what the man in question actually said next.

“Make me.”

Wait-... What? That took you aback, and your resolve momentarily crumbled as you looked at him. And he looked dead serious, too...

Well, you had promised yourself that you would correct that attitude of his.

Positioning yourself behind him, you untied the f/c sash that secured your tunic, “What are you-” But you had already placed the fabric over his mouth, tying it securely at the back of his head. That was much better. He grew sexier now that he was silent. Now that you didn’t have to listen to his sarcastic droning, you could actually get on to using your present. Proud of your work, you walked back around to face the man.

Upon feeling your form looming over him, Sektor sunk down to his knees, hands clasped behind his back. A h/c brow arched in surprise, but soon your expression turned to one of mischief. He must’ve been partial to being submissive. The thought intrigued you, to say the least. While having been on top a few times in previous experiences, you had never actually dominated your partner. But what better time to try it out than now? Especially on someone as arrogant as the Grandmaster’s son. He needed to be taken down a notch. Or two.

“You like it when a woman is in control, don’t you?” You asked rhetorically, to which he nodded, his brown eyes boring into your e/c ones. There was no question that you could have some fun with this. Taking hold of the red sash on his uniform, you snatched it off of his waist before making your way to his backside once more. With a fluid motion, you looped it around his wrists twice before tying it. He flexed his forearms in response, testing the resistance of his bondage, to which you clucked, “You’re not escaping that easily,” Though you had tied it gently enough for him to break free should he need to. But for all intents and purposes, he was helpless. Completely at your disposal. Ready for anything and everything you had in mind.

The raw, devious power surged through you so beautifully. And submissiveness looked equally enticing on Sektor. Since he was incapacitated, you took the liberty of peeling off his armor for him. It took a bit longer than you had expected to get through all of the various knots and clasps, but that was no problem. Every second was blissful agony for the man who was trapped under your touch. But eventually, your gift was unwrapped, save for his ivory undergarments. By the tenting in the fabric, he was already ready for you. But there would be none of that. Not anytime soon, anyway.

A maniacal giggle made its way past your lips as you reached around his head. With a loud snap, the red tie that was holding his long hair in place was between your fingers. You waved it in front of him teasingly before pushing the loose hair out of his eyes, “Lay down,” Your voice was a soft, but harsh whisper.

At your command, the Grandmaster’s son swung his knees out from under him and lowered his muscular back onto the cold marble floor. He winced as the cold penetrated his skin, but he made no effort to get up. Not when he was consumed by the overwhelming desire to be obedient for his mistress. Who, had he been able to speak, would have been showered in praises. You were easily one of the most beautiful women he had bedded. Being the chosen child had its perks, but it also had its drawbacks; one being that he could never explore his desire for domination. It would be too embarrassing if he, the next Grandmaster, were found under a woman. Or, one of the Lin Kuei women, anyway. But you were an outsider. Someone who passed through twice a year at most. There was no shame in this. Only pleasure as you stripped down to your f/c undergarments, taking care to leave your boots on. It fit the aesthetic, after all.

“You have a sharp tongue for someone who’s supposed to be a disciplined assassin,” You chided, your hands positioning themselves on your hips as you stood over him, your boots dangerously close to his face, “But you know what? I think we can put it to better use,” Sektor didn’t have time to consider your words before you unceremoniously squatted, the satin fabric of your underwear meeting the resistant cloth of your makeshift gag.

With an exaggerated sigh, you settled in on your new chair, your boots resting easily on either side of his head. This was much better. No noise and the pleasure of having your sex serviced. Well, not so much the second part as Sektor had a gag in place that prevented the latter. Though you did have to say that seeing him grow frustrated at his bondage was pleasurable in its own right. You sat like this for a few moments, basking in the feeling of control, until you felt a small vibration against your clothed sex.

“What was that? ‘Take the gag off’? And my panties?” You repeated, to which he nodded desperately. Another triumphant laugh rippled through your chest. As if you would give the spoiled brat what he wanted. That would be counterintuitive on your part. E/c irises clouded over as you looked down at your whining subject, “No. You haven’t earned the right to taste me,”

But that didn’t stop him from trying, much to your amusement. Sektor continued to strain against the gag, trying to do something; anything. His full beard provided some nice friction though, and you almost considered giving in and letting him eat you out. Almost, “Now look at me,” A s/c hand reached out and grabbed his chin, forcing him to give you his undivided attention. His dark pupils dilated in excitement at your roughness, “You’re going to be a good boy for me, right?” You cooed, being rewarded by another needy jerk of his head.

“Good,” H/t, h/c locks bobbed as you nodded your head in satisfaction. In fact, you were so pleased with his broken obedience that you resumed a squatting position, taking the weight off of his face momentarily. You reached down and pulled the gag free, letting it bunch around his neck instead. Sektor was only allowed a second to breathe through his mouth before your sex pressed against it once more.

But there were no complaints from the brat, only gratitude as his tongue traced the outline of your folds, “Thank you, Mistress L/n,” He mumbled as he pressed a soft kiss to your clit. You sighed, rocking your hips a bit to catch some of the friction from his beard scratching your thighs.

This felt very, very good. So good that you almost considered dropping your facade and letting yourself fully enjoy the man’s mouth. But where was the fun in that? As far as you were concerned, he was still a jerk. A whiny, beautifully submissive, brat that still hadn’t learned his lesson. Tucking your knees to your chest, you pulled yourself into a standing position, much to the disappointment of your submissive.

“Aw, don’t pout. I don’t like pouting,” Your stern voice commanded, causing Sektor to amend his expression immediately. Basking in the high of your authority, you shifted your attention to his lower half. Saying that the man was weeping for attention was an understatement as you rubbed his aching erection through the cloth. Curious, you bent over and removed his hard length from his undershorts. You gave him a sly smile as your nimble fingers worked him, “I’m surprised that you’ve actually managed to impress me,” He merely moaned in response as your stroking got faster, “Please,” His voice, hoarse from the gag, pleaded for your audience, “Please ride my cock, Mistress. I want to make you cum,” He begged while you pursed your lips, considering the proposition.

The ache in your stomach had only grown more prominent throughout your teasing. And coupled with the stimulation from Sektor’s mouth, you were beyond wet enough for intercourse. Sighing, “Very well. You’ve been a good boy so far,” Your hand ceased its movement in favor of hooking itself inside your panties along with the other. Straightening up, you pulled the silk down, stepping out of the garment to free your ankles, “I’ll give you what you want; on one condition. No thrusting,” He gave a weak nod in agreement.

Satisfied with his obedience once more, you allowed yourself to squat over him, this time over his erect dick. Once he was lined up, you began sinking down, allowing him to enter you at the most agonizingly slow rate. Only when you were comfortable did you begin moving. And it felt damn good. Overcome with desire, you allowed yourself to ride him at an excruciating pace, momentarily forgetting your cool, stone demeanor. A moan akin to a wind-chime clawed its way out of your throat as your hand found its way to your clit. You rubbed furiously while your other hand tangled itself in that long black hair, tugging it roughly. He let out a guttural sound at the lovely pain you were causing him, but he kept his promise of not thrusting into you despite an overwhelming desire to. Though that didn’t stop you from eventually changing your own rule, overcome by the pleasure.

“Fuck me. Make me cum,” You demanded, amending your previous instruction. Sektor knew better than to question your orders, his only focus on doing just what you had asked. He was able to flip you over with his strong hips despite his hands still being tied behind his back. Once you were comfortable, he wasted no time snapping his hips into yours as fast as he could. His pace was relentless, causing your toes to curl and stars to enter your vision as he rubbed against your precious spot. Your fingers bunched his loose hair up, pulling as hard as humanly possible as you met an intense climax. Shaking, your breathing grew even more ragged as the heat ravished your body. All of your neurons felt as if they were on fire as you came.

His hips slowed as the last of your orgasm made its way through you, stopping once your hand detangled itself from his black locks and fell limp across your ribs. With a tired smile, your eyes focused on him once more, “I will let you cum as a reward for being obedient,” Just not inside of you. He wasn’t that good. But he was excited nonetheless. Proud that he had lived up to your expectations. His cock exited your trembling pussy, saturated in your orgasm. When your breathing eventually slowed, you slowly shifted to sit on your knees, your hand replacing itself on his shaft.

Your hand stroked him as fast as you could manage while he whimpered in pleasure. It didn’t take long before his seed erupted from the tip of his cock, effectively coating your hand and splattering on his abs. Looking down at the mess, Sektor grew sheepish as the post-orgasm clarity seeped in. You had definitely shown him; maybe he should learn to be more humble. Or maybe he would be just as much of an asshole the next time you visited so you could teach him another lesson, “Thank you,” He managed to get out once he caught his breath.

You hated to say it, but Sektor had been right. He sure didn’t disappoint the Grandmaster.

“You’re welcome. Now go get a towel so you can clean up your mess.”

#sektor #sektor x reader #mortal kombat x reader #mortal kombat #lin kuei

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grailfinders · 3 years

Text

Fate and Phantasms #200

Wow, what a milestone, huh? It feels like only yesterday we were building Mash. Didn't even know you could grab multiple fighting styles back then. We were also one person back then. Things change. Things change even faster when you have magic eyes that let you bend anything you can see, so let's hurry up and build Asagami Fujino already. She is a Quandrix Sorcerer to tear apart anything she lays eyes on, as well as expand her field of vision beyond what her eyes can see. Dangerous combination, that.

Check out her build breakdown below the cut, or her character sheet over here!

Next up: In the dark of the night, evil will find you! (If Rasputin ever become a playable character I am really going to regret using that one here.)

Wait, what's that...

Race and Background

No surprises here, Fujino is a Variant Human, because normal humans can't tear people apart with their mind. That means she gets +1 Dexterity and Charisma, as well as proficiency with Perception (kind of her deal) and the Tough feat. HP isn't just how much body you have to get hurt, it's also how badly getting hurt affects you. Fujino's deadened sense of pain means she can take hits and keep going, purely due to the fact that she doesn't realize she should stop. That means you're getting an extra 2 HP each level.

Fujino is a schoolgirl, so the closest thing we have is the Cloistered Scholar background. That gives you History and Nature proficiency.

Ability Scores

Your highest score should be Charisma. Your magic eyes are an innate part of you, and it's really easy to be frightening when you can tear a bridge down around you. Second highest should be Constitution, for the reasons we outlined in your background feat. Your Dexterity should probably be pretty high, you fight in clothing, and you fought against Shiki for more than five seconds without dying. That's impressive. Your Intelligence isn't that bad, though you're still going through school. We aren't dumping Strength, it's alright, but we are dumping Wisdom. You have a hard time feeling yourself and feeling connected to other people.

Class Levels

You're a Sorcerer, giving you proficiency with Constitution and Charisma saves, as well as proficiency with the Intimidation and Arcana skills. You've got magic implanted in your face, and again, bridge. As a Sorcerer, you can cast spells using your Charisma. Blade Ward deadens your senses further, giving you resistance to physical damage types for a round. Mending lets you twist a small item back together, instead of tearing it apart. Sword Burst is a short range bending... sorta. Force damage is hard to quantify. But it's free, so that's nice. You can also Shape Water to bend liquids to your will. For first level spells, Mage Armor helps you not die, and Magic Missile lets you shoot little bursts of twistiness that'll never miss. You also join the school of Quandrix, which gives you the starting gift of the spells Guidance and Guiding Bolt. They aren't super in character, but they're free, so suck it up. More Importantly, you learn Functions of Probability, helping you bend luck in your favor. When you cast a leveled spell targeting a creature, you can add an effect to a nearby creature (yourself included). A Diminishing Function forces a wisdom save (DC 8 + Chr mod + proficiency), and if it fails it subtracts 1d6 from the next attack roll it makes this round. Turns out swordfighting is hard when your sword is a corkscrew. Alternatively, a Supplemental Function lets a creature add a d6 to an attack or save made in the next round. This part is less believable, but if you're creative I'm sure it'll look good.

Second level sorcerers are a Font of Magic, giving you sorcery points equal to your level per long rest. You can turn them into slots, or turn slots into points. Eventually you can do other things. Also, you can cast Thunderwave now. It destroys objects, you destroy objects, it's a match made in heaven.

Now that you're a third level sorcerer, you can make your spells truly your own thanks to Metamagic! If you cast a Heightened spell, one creature in its effect has disadvantage on their save against it. If you cast an Empowered spell, you can re-roll a couple damage dice. Tearing people in half is generally hard to avoid, and kind of damaging. You can also bend the air itself by casting Dust Devil, creating a Medium sized tornado, dealing damage to creatures nearby and pushing them around. It'll even pick up dust and make things hard to see, though that's kind of a drawback for you.

Use your very first Ability Score Improvement to bump up your Charisma. Kind of a spell-based build, to be honest. Speaking of, Mage Hand probably doesn't have much tearing force behind it, but it's free. You can also cast Shatter for more indiscriminate destruction.

Fifth level sorcerers gain third level spells like Clairvoyance! Now you can see a bird's eye view of the battlefield, tearing your way through it like, well, you.

At sixth level it's about time you started bending the earth to your will. You can Velocity Shift nearby creatures if they start their turn or move within 30' of you. If they fail a charisma save you can shove them to any other point within 30' of you. You can react this way 30' per long rest. Twist debris at people and watch them scatter, it's fun. To help with that, you can also cast Erupting Earth, bending the ground in a 20' cube. This forces dex saves on creatures in the cube, dealing damage and making the area difficult terrain until it's cleaned up.

Seventh level sorcerers get fourth level spells like Stoneskin for even more deadened senses. Now you resist physical damage without having to waste your action every turn. It does use your concentration, but it lasts an hour.

Another ASI! Max out your Charisma for super special eyes. You can also Control Water to create truly damaging whirlpools. There's other options, but whirlpools! Who'd want anything else?

Oh hey, I found something you might want else. It's fifth level spell Bigby's Hand! You can grab people and play with them like a stress ball. Technically there isn't a twisting option, but a Grasping Hand is probably the best you'll do. It'll grapple a huge or smaller creature, and if it successfully does so you can Crush it as a bonus action for damage.

Another Metamagic option! Technically these spells are all just you looking at things, so grab Subtle Spell so you don't have to yell out all your attack names. You can also Mold Earth. It's not that powerful, but it's free twisting. You also get Telekinesis! Again, no "twisting" in the rules, but it's strong enough to lift an object of 1000 pounds, and fine enough to open a door. Their heads should be popping off here.

Sixth level spells! Here are the big boys of the spell world. If you twist anything enough, eventually it'll Disintegrate, dealing plenty of force damage and leaving behind a mess you can't even revive. A little too clean for Fujino, but it's destructive enough.

ASI time. Bump up Constitution for a thicker skin and more HP. HP changes retroactively, so you get an extra 12 HP here.

Did you know turning into rotini is painful? Your enemies certainly know that, thanks to Power Word Pain. If a charmable creature has 100 HP or less, their speed drops to 10', and it gets disadvantage on all attacks, checks, and saves, aside from constitution saves. If it tries to cast a spell, it'll be wasted if it can't pass a constitution save. The target stays in pain forever until it can pass a constitution save.

Cool, so fun thing about these Multi Class Subclasses! As long as you're the correct level, you can take any one feature they have each time you hit the appropriate level in your main class. Since the highest requirement is 14, we're taking Quantum Tunneling now, and we'll pop back to the other one later. Your senses permanently deaden, giving you complete resistance to bludgeoning, piercing, and slashing damage. You can also bend your way through any physical objects, as long as you're willing to deal with a halved movement speed and 1d10 damage each square you move. You also have to end your turn in an empty spot. Playing to character this should leave a huge hole behind you, but maybe you're conscientious? You weren't raised in a barn, after all.

Your eighth level spell is Earthquake. Now no structure in your view is safe from your destructive powers. Tear open the earth, shatter structures, and interrupt concentration, there's nothing you can't do!

Bump up your Dexterity this ASI. Not getting hit is still pretty useful, even if you can't feel it.

Remember when I said turning into rotini hurts? I was wrong. Actually, it kills you. Please grab Power Word Kill to reflect these changes. You have become death, destroyer of mages. You also learn how to cast Distant Spells, doubling your spell's range. Your range should be "anywhere in sight", so this is a step in the right direction.

Okay, I guess we'll grab Null Equation. Once per turn you can twist up a creature you damaged. If they fail a constitution save, they get disadvantage on strength and dexterity saves, and they only deal half damage with weapon attacks, all for a round. You can do this Proficiency times per long rest. Again, real hard to hit people when your femurs are spring shaped.

Use your last ASI for more Constitution for more HP and better concentration.

We've finally done it, we've made a pure sorcerer build! It's time to finally learn the dark secret of the Sorcerer capstone. What feature could be so powerful we've completely avoided it for 200 builds? It's Sorcerous Restoration. You get 4 sorcery points per short rest. It's not good. Sorry.

Pros and Cons

Pros:

You're good at dealing damage, and your most powerful spells deal Force damage, which almost nothing blocks against. That means you're consistent and deadly, a solid combination.

You're so good at damage that it isn't just limited to creatures. Use telekinesis, mold earth, and shatter to tear apart structures that are getting in your way. Walls? Torn down. Steel Beams? Melted. Bridges? Falling down.

Despite spending your entire time in a class with the worst hit dice imaginable, you're pretty tough to kill, with just over 200 HP, a decent AC for a spellcaster, and permanent resistance to physical damage types. To make things worse for fighters, it's also a pain to get near you, since you can tear up the area around you and shunt melee fighters away as a reaction.

Cons:

While you do have magic missile, a lot of your spells deal damage in wide areas, so your party might have words with you about using earthquake one too many times.

While you're good at tearing things up, that's just about all your magic can do. There's the occasional Clairvoyance and some defensive spells, but by and large you're either dealing damage or doing nothing.

Despite your great physical defense, you struggle a bit more against other damage types. If you end up fighting someone who can turn their knife into psychic damage, you might have a problem on your hands.

#fgo #fate grand order #kara no kyoukai #Asagami Fujino #D&D 5e #DND #Sorcerer

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honeymoonjin · 4 years

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ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ot7 x reader || ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 13k || ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: smut - rated 18+

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ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: fxf smut, sub!reader, dom!hoseok, dom!bee, shibari/bondage, sex swing, fingering, safewording situation, aftercare, exhibition, voyeurism

A/N: chapters may not come every week, but i am continuing to post them now xx i appreciate your patience

DAY TWENTY-TWO

Normally, getting a text at ass o’clock in the morning would annoy Hoseok. Normally, he’d deny the offer to get out of the warmth of his bed and go down and have ‘a chat’ with someone at ass o’clock in the morning -

But then again, his bed is a little too warm with an extra body in it. Perhaps going downstairs is the better option. He rolls over gingerly, glaring at the man in bed beside him, separated by a wall of spare pillows. His blue hair doesn’t seem as harsh in the dim pre-dawn light, and his lips are plumper than ever, slightly pouted in his sleep. He looks peaceful, no lines on his face even though he’d gone to bed wearing makeup. One tiny hand rests propped underneath his face, making his cheek bulge, and the other clutches intermittently at the duvet, like he’s caught up in a dream. Park Jimin looks so content and angelic in his sleep. Hoseok narrows his eyes. Little shit.

It’s easy enough to get dressed and ready without disturbing the sleeping demon. Well - truthfully, he’s just shrugged on a hoodie over his sleep shirt and sweatpants to make them look less like pyjamas, but still.

By the time he gets downstairs, grimacing at the sharp lights of the kitchen, Namjoon is practically chewing a hole through the lid of a plastic bottle, gnawing at it with eyes rounded with worry.

“Woah, woah, woah.” Hoseok rushes forward, gently tugging the half-empty bottle out from between the younger man’s teeth, giving him a soft but reproachful look. “What’s going on, buddy?”

Namjoon startles with the sudden motion, eyes blinking slowly in a way that speaks to a lack of sleep the night before. “Oh good, you came,” he mutters absentmindedly, “I’m kinda freaking out.”

Hoseok’s brow pinches with concern. “I did notice that. You seemed pretty carefree yesterday; what’s changed?”

The academic bites his lip. “Sunmi was talking to me. Did you know basically everyone else is in a relationship?”

Whatever Hoseok was anticipating, it certainly wasn’t that. “Huh?”

Namjoon nods, frantic. “Y/n got together with Jimin and Tae, but now they’re kind of not? - I don’t know, Sunmi wasn’t that bothered about the details - and then Yoongi and Jin had their thing, obviously, but now Jungkook has a thing with Yoongi, and Tae and Jungkook have been fooling around too, and it’s like we’re the only ones left out. I didn’t even realise it, but we’re the leftovers, Hobi-hyung.”

Even as that comment sends a dagger right through him, Hoseok keeps his face neutral. “I’m sure that’s not the case, Namjoon. Nobody’s trying to leave us out.”

“I know that,” Namjoon replies quickly, an earnest nod, “it’s just that- Well, I want that, Hobi-hyung. I want to sneak around, I want to hold hands, I want to feel what it’s like. It’s not that I’m annoyed at the others, it’s just�� it’s highlighted yet another area that I’m a total virgin in. I’m sick of always feeling behind on these things. I’m sick of it never being me.”

Hoseok swallows, reaching around to pat Namjoon on the back in what he hopes his a comforting gesture. This wasn’t as straightforward as aftercare; Namjoon was seriously hurting. “Listen, Joon, if you want to get into a relationship of any sort with them, you need to talk to them directly-”

“But I don’t,” the academic cuts off, looking more vulnerable than ever. In plaid pyjamas and round glasses with lenses thicker than the frames, hair still mussed up from restlessness, he looks totally lost. “I’ve thought about it a lot. I don’t think I’m ready for a relationship. It’s like… I wouldn’t write an essay and hand it in straight away, you know? I’d write an outline, and then a draft, and I’d use the draft to make edits and write a second draft, and eventually I’d write the final product and submit it. Do you get it?”

Hoseok presses his lips together. “I’m afraid I don’t follow.”

Namjoon bites down hard on his lip, making the flesh go white, and bloom red when he lets go to speak. “Hobi-hyung,” he begins slowly, “are you interested in any of the people here romantically? Are you wanting to get into a relationship like that?”

Fear shoots through Hoseok instinctively, but it’s soothed by the reassurance, it’s Namjoon. He can be honest with Namjoon. “No,” he admits, waiting for his face to fall.

Instead, the opposite happens. Namjoon’s brows smoothen with visible relief. “I want you to be my first draft, hyung.”

Hoseok tilts his head. “Now would be a great time for you to explain the metaphor, Joonie.”

Namjoon sucks in a deep breath and slips off his glasses, blinking owlishly like being a little blind is preferable before he speaks. “I want to pretend to date you, just for a bit. Just to see what it’s like. It can be a trial run, we’ll stop whenever we want. But you’re the only one in this house I trust like that.” He pauses, fingers twitching where they rest clasped in his lap. “Feel free to say no, though.”

Perhaps Hoseok’s mind is a little slow from waking up, but he barely comprehends the implications of what Namjoon is telling him. “You felt left out when the others were trying to have secret relationships or sneak around the rest of us… so you want to… pretend to do that?”

“Well- no, we wouldn’t have to hide it,” Namjoon says slowly, fingers reaching for the water bottle. Hoseok lets him have it, but watches out to make sure he doesn’t begin gnawing on the lid again. “I just think it would be nice to be the one doing couple stuff for once, don’t you think?”

Upon hearing these words, Hoseok begins to feel his very bones shake. It’s the uncontrollable trembling that seems to pass over him every time he gets close to breaking the seal - close to coming out. As always, he has a choice. It only takes one more look at the openness on Namjoon’s face to decide. “Joonie, I’m aromantic.”

Namjoon sucks in a silent breath of surprise. “Huh? Really?”

Now that it’s out there, the silence feels so much more deafening. “Yeah.” He doesn’t know what to say. Should he explain himself, apologise, give excuses-?

“That doesn’t change my opinion of you, you know that, right?”

Hoseok blinks. Namjoon seems more awake now, more alert and calm. “I- What do you mean?”

“You’re my best friend on this show,” Namjoon admits shyly, “you’ve taught me a lot, and I feel so safe with you. I didn’t come to you because I thought you’d want to actually date, so please don’t think I’m going to feel disappointed. It’s really special that you felt comfortable enough to- oof!”

Before Namjoon finishes, Hoseok is barrelling him over in a tight hug. Namjoon’s arms bracket around him, and the dom could just about purr with the warm fuzzy happiness that bubbles in his chest. “Oh, Joonie! You’re my best friend here too!”

Namjoon hugs him tighter now. “I’m so glad, hyung,” he murmurs softly.

Not wanting to leave this embrace, Hoseok lets his eyes slip closed and rests his chin on Namjoon’s shoulder. “I think fake-dating sounds kinda fun, by the way. We can take the b out of bromance. I wanna see how the others react.”

Just as the breathy sound of Namjoon’s gleeful laughter light his ears, a darker, more bemused chuckle drowns it out.

“Fake dating, huh?” a voice drawls, causing the two of them to jump apart like they’d been stung. “As if things couldn’t get any cheesier around here.”

Namjoon rubs his eyes, looking even more disheveled than when Hoseok first saw him. “Yoongi?”

Hoseok swallows as the raven-haired, cat-eyed beauty standing across from them scowls. “Not quite, buddy.”

The academic fumbles for his glasses and slips them on, gasping as Min Yoonji comes into perfect focus. “Oh! Uh, good morning! You can ignore what you just saw and heard.”

“Absolutely not,” she counters easily, sitting gracefully on a stool at the breakfast bar. Far more awake and presentable than the two of them, she looks sleek and fashionable in a pale silver blouse, black sash tied around the collar, and sleek black pants. Her eyes rake over the two of them, mouth turned down in a frown. “No one would believe it,” she says finally.

“Excuse me?” Hoseok questions, feeling distinctly like a petri dish being studied by a disdainful scientist. He spares a glance at Namjoon, who shifts uncomfortably and fiddles with his pyjama sleeves.

Yoonji just shrugs like it’s obvious. “If you told them now that you’re dating, they’d assume it was a joke. You need to set it up, build a narrative,” she explains. “How about this? I’ll spread a rumour that I saw the two of you making out down here, then you lay down some clues like sneaking off together or fucking each other with your eyes over the dinner table, and boom, everyone will think you’re boning. Bonus points if you can get someone else in on it.”

The two stay silent for a few seconds before they realise Yoonji is waiting for an answer. “Uh,” Hoseok states eloquently.

“Thank you?” Namjoon questions.

Yoonji huffs, eyes rolling skywards. “You two are hopeless. I’ll do what I can, but it’s going to cost you.”

“Are we- what- is this a deal? Are you negotiating with us?” Namjoon stammers, taking his glasses off to clean the lenses with the edge of his shirt even though they were fine before.

“There is no negotiation,” she explains. “I’ll keep your secret and help you. In return, you need to send me a text the second Yoongi tries to put the moves on anyone so I can get the fuck out of the house. I’m not asking for much, but it is very important to me.”

The absurdity of the situation dawns upon Hoseok suddenly, and an unstoppable grin stretches across his face. “It was never about helping us, was it? You just wanna make sure you don’t accidentally walk in on your brother getting railed.”

Yoonji grimaces sharply, shaking her head like she’s trying to dispel the thought. “If you aren’t interested in the deal, I’ll find someone else to blackmail, simple as that.”

“We can do it!” Namjoon volunteers, straightening his back.

Hoseok quickly nods in agreement, watching Yoonji’s shoulders dip in relief. “Sounds fair,” he summarises, “but we’ll need your phone number to do that.”

Yoonji does an almost perfect job of masking her pleased smile with a pointed glare. “Give me your phones, then.”

By the time everyone is seated (bar Yoonji, who has apparently taken over her brother’s room to watch Netflix while the rest of you talk ‘business’) and Sejin walks in, you’ve made your decision.

Unlike the first week, the individual doesn’t know in advance, and it’s this guilt that makes you stubbornly avoid eye contact with them all.

Taehyung had also been given the pass to not join the meeting, but he’d shown up anyway for morale. Or, rather, wrapping his arms around your waist tightly and taking a nap on your shoulder. You couldn’t deny it was comforting to feel his body heat, albeit unconscious.

Yoongi sits on the other side of Taehyung, luckily not pressuring you into conversation, and the two other couches are making conversation amongst themselves when Sejin cuts them short to start the meeting.

“Thank you for being punctual, everyone!” he begins cheerily. Perching on the edge of the coffee table, he rubs his palms together. “It’s time again for the elimination vote. Before I ask Y/n to make her decision, the current six Gentlemen have the chance to defend their position in the game. Starting from the left with you; Namjoon.”

Fuck. Now is the point where you can no longer avoid eye contact with everyone. Leaning into Taehyung’s embrace a little more - the sleeping boy grumbling as you shift beneath him - you look up tentatively towards Namjoon.

He looks a little nervous, but no more than he usually gets in these meetings anyway. Hoseok’s hand rests on the back of the couch behind the academic, who seems perfectly comfortable in the crook of Hoseok’s arm. “Y/n,” he begins, clearing his throat with a brief smile, “I’ve enjoyed the time I’ve spent with you so much, this past week especially. I know I still have some catching up to do when it comes to prowess in the bedroom, but I feel myself improving and once again I’m asking you to be patient with me, and keep me in the game a little longer so that I can do better next week, and the week after that.” He does a cute little nod when he’s finished, cheeks slightly pink.

Hoseok sighs out dramatically when his turn is signified, not shifting from his position. “I’m not above bribery, Y/n. If you keep me in this competition, I’ll take you to my workplace tonight and we can have a good time. If you vote me out, our little excursion will be to the worst Italian restaurant in Gangnam and order a margarita pizza with no cheese or sauce, extra anchovies and pineapple. And we won’t leave until you eat at least your half of the pizza.” He narrows his eyes at you, playful even in the face of elimination. “Are you willing to take that risk?”

You let out a genuine chuckle, shoulders jerking with the force of it. Roused from sleep by your movements, Tae pouts and rubs at his eyes. Even with his hair sticking up at odd angles, he looks so gorgeous that it takes your breath away. As he sits up and adjusts his position, leaning with his back against your side and tugging your arm over him like it’s a blanket, you can’t help but feel a pang of regret for voting him out so soon when you like him so much.

You bite down hard on your tongue, wincing at the pain. Would you come to regret the decision you’re making this morning, too?

Jin is next, and your heart thumps a little faster when you meet his gentle gaze. “I don’t have a lot to say,” he admits slowly, “at least, nothing that I haven’t already said to you. Spending time with you in any context is the highlight of my week, and I sorely hope that I don’t lose you just yet.”

That’s it for the couch to the left of you. Relieved nobody is expecting you to actually respond to these, you give Jin a tight smile and turn to Yoongi, staring at him over Taehyung’s bedhead.

Yoongi shrugs. “Y/n, I think you and I make a really good team. We’re compatible sexually, we get along well outside of that, and I know that you see it too. I’m pretty confident that I’m not the one going home this week.” You let out a light scoff at his faux air of certainty.

Finally, Jimin and Jungkook remain on the last couch. Jungkook is closer to you, so he’s next in line. The bright red streaks of his hair have faded a little, more rosy than before. It makes him look even softer as he sits cross-legged on the couch, the long sleeves of his baggy black shirt tangled up in his lap. He looks genuinely worried, unable to front a smile to you. “Um, I would-” He breaks off suddenly as his nose twitches. “I’d be really sad if you eliminated me,” he confesses in a small voice. “I don’t wanna guilt trip, but, um, I really wanna stay in.”

Your heart aches at the way he drops his chin and stares at the carpet blankly. Beside him, Jimin looks equally pained, and his voice is softer than usual when he speaks up.

“In terms of defending my place in the game,” Jimin says slowly, “I can promise that I’ll keep things different and exciting every week for you and that things will be a lot more fun if you keep me in.” He eyes crinkle fondly. “But I trust your decision either way.”

You suck in an unsteady breath. With everyone’s petitions complete, there’s nothing standing between you and the decision you have to make. Though his words cut right to you, the person you’d chosen earlier hasn’t changed.

Sejin clears his throat after giving you a moment to think. “Who are you choosing to eliminate this week, Y/n? As per the current rules, they’ll be removed from the competition, but allowed to remain in the house on the grounds that they do not initiate any sexual contact with you.”

Making like Jungkook, you lower your gaze to the floor. “First of all,” you start, hating the way your voice sounds so small, “you’re all amazing. Just like last week, there’s no- there’s no easy choice. No matter who I choose it’s going to suck for us both, and I’m sorry about that.”

You pause for a moment, trying to think of the right way to phrase your thoughts. “I’m choosing this person because I think that while the sex has been, um, really good-” it’s futile to fight the blush on your cheeks but you duck your head lower anyway, “-it’s maybe not as exciting week to week as some of the other guys.” The eyes on you feel like redhot pressure points, and you try and loosen the tightness in your chest. “And if I’m totally honest, I think- I really like this person, but I think I’d feel a little more comfortable being able to explore that without the pressures of the competition.”

It’s the least you can do to lift your gaze up and to the left, giving him the dignity of a proper sendoff. “I’m sorry, Jin, it’s you this week.”

Perhaps the worst part of this morning is that Jin seems genuinely caught off-guard.

Or perhaps the worst part is the way his face falls into something grave and icy, standing up so abruptly that Hoseok recoils beside him.

Your heart sinks, your voice drowned out by Sejin’s even as you call out the same name.

“Jin,” Sejin commands, “you have to come back to- Jin!”

Though he was already halfway to the front door, Jin stiffly turns around and waits in the doorway. His eyes actively avoid you, glaring at the wall. Sejin excuses himself and takes him aside to give him the instructions on how to proceed.

It feels like a bucket of cold water has been dumped over you, pooling in your stomach, and you fight the tears that prick your eyes as Tae wriggles around beside you, pulling you into a hug.

You feel fingers card through your hair, even as his two hands stroke your back and hold you close. Glancing up, you’re met with the sight of Yoongi’s face, pained with sympathy, as he gently pats your cheek and continues to brush your hair.

“He hates me,” you murmur miserably.

Yoongi doesn’t contradict you, just letting out a sad sigh. “He’s upset,” he admits, “but he’s a strong guy. He’ll move past it.”

You protest weakly as Taehyung coos softly and pulls you closer, practically tugging you onto his lap so your legs hang over one side and your torso is snug in his embrace. The guilt is far worse this week than it was last time. It constricts your lungs, your veins, makes you feel weak with dread. “He likes me. He likes me and I did that to him.”

“Oh, sweetheart, we all like you,” Yoongi says, his hand falling to cup yours, swirling lazy circles on the skin of your palm.

“Not like that,” you counter, “not like Jin does.”

For a moment it seems like Yoongi is going to disagree with that, but he drops it, squeezing your hand and standing up. “I’m going to make us something to eat. Maybe a hot stew would cheer everyone up a little bit.”

The chances are low, you think, but you would never turn down his food. “Sejin still hasn’t assigned the new prompts and told us about the new week, though,” you point out, glancing over to the two men still in the doorway. Even seeing Jin for a second jolts you like an electric shock, so you turn and bundle your face into the crook of Taehyung’s neck, feeling the soft fibres of his box-knit cardigan against your chin.

“Then Sejin can make himself useful and chop some vegetables while he does it,” Yoongi counters with a pompous sniff as he leaves, and in spite of your own misery, a chuckle overcomes you at the thought of it.

“There’s that smile,” Taehyung croons, a finger tipping your chin up. His eyes are two brown pools of comfort that you can’t help but get lost in. “Jin will survive. I did!”

You straighten up once you hear the sound of shoes approaching again, smile dropping. But this time Sejin stands alone.

“Yoongi, out of the kitchen, please,” the producer sighs.

With one foot hovering over the border where carpet meets tile, Yoongi freezes. “I’ll make you an extra serving,” he bargains, “you can even pick the meat.”

“Out of the kitchen,” Sejin repeats in a stern voice, “can we have at least some decorum during the meeting?”

“But I’m hungry,” he defends. Sejin doesn’t reply, simply flattening his gaze. As everyone waits, Yoongi slinks back like a sulking cat, perching on the edge of the couch beside you and Taehyung with his arms crossed in defiance. “Do I get to pick out the prompts again?”

“No. Let’s get started, please.” Taking a breath so deep it lifts his shoulders, Sejin calms himself and clears his throat, standing in front of the seven of you. “The theme of this week is Limited Edition. I’ve got five prompts here; come up in any order.”

Taehyung slides you off his lap so smoothly that you barely notice it’s happened before he’s standing up with a stretch, waltzing towards Sejin’s outstretched hand.

Sejin realises at the last minute and tugs his hand back the second Taehyung’s fingers brush one of the slips of paper. “Taehyung, you know you can’t take a prompt. Sit down.”

Without pause, Taehyung spins on his foot, strolling right back to your couch as if nothing was amiss. “Worth a shot,” he mutters when he sits back down beside you. You know this is just his attempt at cheering you up, but that doesn’t make it work any less. Tucking your arm around his, you lean into him and watch as the first actual contestant takes his prompt.

It’s Yoongi up first, clearly wanting to expedite the process as much as possible, but when he snatches the topmost fold of paper, the text written inside gives him pause. His brows furrow, then lift in realisation, before he collapses back beside you, drumming his fingers on the arm of the couch thoughtfully.

Jimin is next, selecting the next one in the splayed-out pile. His head cocks to the side, turning to Yoongi with a curious look. “Oh,” he comments mildly.

“Yeah,” Yoongi agrees, and Hoseok, who’d previously been stunned into silence with Jin’s sudden mood change, springs up with a huff.

“What is this oohing and aahing all about,” he grumbles, quickly picking a prompt and holding it close to his chest like he’s worried someone will peek. The second he looks at his, however, his face falls. He tries to recover with a light laugh, but you don’t miss the way he eyes the remaining slips in Sejin’s hand like he longs to trade his in.

He sits down though, patting Namjoon’s thigh to get him to go up. Oddly enough, Namjoon also looks stricken when he reads his prompt, showing it to Hoseok with a nervous gnawing of his lip.

Jungkook is the last one left, and at this point you’re uncontrollably curious but also wary about what these prompts could contain. Interestingly, though, Jungkook doesn’t seem disappointed or worried, but instead scrunches his nose and giggles at the prompt, tucking it into his pocket before joining Jimin and poking his side until the older man shows him his prompt, snickering even more at the sight of it.

“Alright,” Sejin starts, cutting off your train of thought, “now that we’ve finished that, the last point of discussion is the Bangasm Bomb. This week, the special challenge is called Viewer’s Choice. Each day, there will be a random poll taken on the official Bangasm twitter. It will correspond to each prompt, and the next morning, one of you will get a text. That means you have to complete your prompt that day, using the winning vote of the poll. If you fail to include this aspect, you’ll fail overall even if you successfully completed the actual prompt. Make sense?”

Jungkook stares blankly. “Could we have an example?”

Sejin shrugs. “The first poll was posted at 10am this morning. The four options are: standing, lying down, sitting and kneeling. Whichever position wins the poll must be included in the scene tomorrow. If, tomorrow morning, you get a text from me with one of these options, that means you need to complete your prompt that day using the winning option of the poll.”

“Okay,” Jungkook says slowly, mulling it over, “yeah, I get it now. So we don’t get to choose when we go?”

“Not this week, no,” Sejin explains, and then clears his throat. “Well, then. That’s all from me! I need to go make sure Seokjin is behaving.”

The mention of the recently-eliminated member sobers everyone up. Yoongi returns to the kitchen with less vigor than before, Hoseok joins him to make himself a drink, Jungkook comes over to the couch with you and Taehyung and wedges himself between the two of you, so sullen he doesn’t even speak.

In the end, the seven of you decide to eat lunch in front of the television, putting on a mindless sitcom that nobody really focuses on. Yoonji comes down once Yoongi texts her for lunch, and she sits on the floor with her bowl propped up on the coffee table.

Time passes, and Jin doesn’t return inside.

For a while, there’s an unspoken assumption that he’s still in the confessional shed with Sejin doing his exit interview, but once Jimin pokes his head out the front door and sees the producer working away in the production van, that idea is shattered.

“He’s okay, right?” Taehyung asks abruptly as a laugh track echoes hollowly around the room.

No one needs to ask who he is. Yoongi shrugs. “He’s an adult,” he offers, but the glint of concern is as much alight in his eyes as anyone else’s.

The thought only sustains peace amongst you for so long. Jungkook is glum, Hoseok looks anxious, Namjoon grows restless and begins chewing the end of one of his chopsticks. Even Yoonji has her brows furrowed, jaw tense.

Eventually, your worry overcomes you, and you grab the remote and mute the TV, pitching the room into silence. “I’m going to find him,” you announce.

“Y/n…” Yoongi says reluctantly, but your mind is made.

Not bothering with shoes, you unlock the front door again and slip outside, immediately turning the perimeter to go look for the missing gentleman.

Half-expecting him to be sulking in the confessional booth still, a strike of alarm thuds in your chest to find it empty. You inspect the poolside, the patio and outdoor dining area, but Seokjin’s nowhere to be found.

It’s just as you’re about to give up and return inside that you spot him.

Barely more than a smudge in the distance, you see his tall figure sitting, hunched up, on the very outskirts of the gravel path. He picks up pieces of rock, throws them half-heartedly, and he’s so far away that you can’t even hear them clatter. You recoil at the lonely sight, fighting the urge to run to him.

When you return inside, all eyes are on you. “He’s right on the edge of the property,” you explain miserably, “as far away from me as he can get.”

“Oh, Y/n,” Jimin says softly, eyes brimming with sympathy. From the silence around the room, there’s not much else to say.

You bite your lip. “He probably doesn’t want to talk to me, but can someone please go get him before it gets dark? I’m going to my room for a bit.”

Nobody protests, and you heave yourself up the stairs. By the time you flop onto the bed in your room, door locked behind you, you feel heavier than solid stone.

You’re too distressed to sleep, but guilt pulls at your limbs and leaves you unable to get out of bed for the rest of the day.

By the time you’re called down to go on your excursion with Hoseok, part of you wants to cancel and wallow in your self-pity a little longer. But Hoseok had clearly been looking forward to it so much, and you can’t deny the allure of escaping the Villa, even if only for a few hours.

Hoseok beams at you warmly as he greets you at the car idling outside. With his hair fluffy over his brow but his clothes sleek black, he’s like an enticing halfway point between Hoseok and Master. The sun hangs low in the sky, casting his clear skin in a rich orange glow. “Ready?”

You return his smile, albeit with a little less vigor. “Let’s get out of here.” When the two of you get inside the car and it pulls down the driveway, there’s no lone figure throwing stones on the perimeter of the property. Your heart tugs in a way you can’t quite articulate.

Though you try not to, it’s impossible not to mentally take stock and compare this experience to your previous nights out. Far more than Jimin and Yoongi, Hoseok keeps you talking. Whether it’s him trying to keep you distracted, or just his natural brand of social vibrance, there isn’t a quiet moment.

It isn’t until the car has wound its way deep into the city that Hoseok gently clears his throat, cutting off his own spiel about his favourite brand of bucket hats. “It seems we’ve reached a crossroads,” he announces meaningfully.

You frown as you glance between the seats and out the front window. “That’s a roundabout, Hoseok.”

His eyes shift. “Metaphorically.”

“And what might this metaphorical crossroads entail?” you ask teasingly, a smile curling your lips.

Hoseok stays uncharacteristically sober, leaning towards you as the car creeps forward in the blocked-up after-work traffic. “Our location, princess,” he says softly.

“I thought we were going to your work?” you respond in confusion.

“At the moment we are,” Hoseok replies. “But there’s a cinema just down the road, several great food places, even this fancy smoothie shop that lets you pick your own ingredients.”

“Okay…” The rhythmic click of the turning light echoes through the backseat, making you feel entranced as you watch Hoseok’s eyes warm, focused on you. “Do you not want to go to your work?”

“This is about you now,” he corrects in a kind but firm voice. “Do you want to go to the Red Room and play?”

“Yes,” you say instinctively, but the dom just shakes his head.

“No,” he states unflinchingly, “I need you to think about it longer than that. Do you feel emotionally, mentally, and physically in a position to do a scene tonight?”

You suck in a breath slowly, taking the time to run over them one by one. Physically was the easiest one. Your sex drive was quickly reconfiguring the longer you spent on the show, and even just a day without any action at all was making you feel a little restless and unsatisfied. Emotionally and mentally gave you pause.

How can you untangle those two when your mind and your heart feel knotted together inside you? Whenever one lights up, the other just reflects it. The moment you think of Jin, guilt overcomes you, but that just sparks your desire to flood yourself with distractions and escapism. But then the thought of being out here, enjoying yourself while he’s still stuck in the Villa, probably seething in hurt or rage or betrayal… The guilt just flares even colder in your chest.

“I don’t know,” you admit after a moment of silence. Hoseok hums once, inviting you to speak further. “I really want to. But I don’t know if I should. I just want to forget about everything, but maybe that’s a bad reason.” You blow out a deep breath, cheeks puffing up. “I don’t know; you’re the BDSM expert. Is it okay if I do it to just distract myself?”

Hoseok stays silent for a moment, eyes roaming over you like he’s searching for something. “That depends,” he answers finally. “If it’s a recurring problem in your life, and you use BDSM as a coping mechanism, then that can be unhealthy. Just like drinks or drugs. But at the same time, it’s very common that BDSM is a way of emotional or mental release. Office workers who feel like they’re working the same 9 to 5 every day with no power might want to feel like they have control and excitement in one area of their lives. Maybe CEOs or lawyers or doctors or parents might want to go to a BDSM club and submit so they finally can release the burden of expectation. To have someone else take care of them and make the decisions for a few hours.”

The dom sighs out slowly, eyes softening in empathy. “Y/n, you know that I can’t tell you whether it’s okay or not. I can’t consent on your behalf. You need to decide for yourself if you’re using this as a release, or as a dependent coping mechanism. Do you understand?”

You nod silently, not trusting your voice for a moment. Though he can’t decide for you, his explanation brings a clarity that strikes deeper than you originally intended. “I want to feel taken care of,” you offer up, voice thin like blown glass as your eyes prickle. “I just want to feel good for tonight, Hobi.”

Hoseok nods with a reassuring smile, reaching out to squeeze your shoulder gently. “Then I have another question, princess,” he starts. “You said you were wanting to forget about everything. Would you enjoy your time more if you played with someone else?”

You’re tugged out of your brief lapse of emotional vulnerability by the statement, cocking your head in confusion. “What do you mean?”

Hoseok’s lip twitches as his eyes brighten a little. “Mistress Bee has an opening that she kept just for you,” he reveals in a honeyed drawl, “if you want to use it. Her and I spoke about it earlier. If you’re anything like me, the constant presence of cameras and the whole competition can start to weigh pretty heavily. I think it might be good for you to let yourself be separate from it entirely for a while. Have some fun for fun’s sake. What do you think?”

The idea is something you’d never considered, yet you can’t deny there’s something incredibly appealing about cutting your ties - even just for an evening - and not having to worry about anything to do with the show. But still, you hesitate. “Where would you be?”

Hoseok shrugs easily. “If you want me to stay, I’ll stay. I could sit near the two of you, or just hang around in the main den so I’m out of sight but still not far. And if you really want some distance, I might just go next door and make myself a custom smoothie. Either way, I’m happy.”

You startle when the car suddenly halts, a jerky job of parking down a side street. You’re here. A strange feeling of urgency overtakes you, like he’ll leave any second. You reach out and clutch at his shirt, feeling the press of buttons against your palm. “I want you to stay,” you say in a rush, knuckles going white.

“I’m here,” Hoseok soothes with warm eyes, unhooking your fingers from his shirt one at a time, before squeezing your hand and resting it back in your lap. “I’ll stay, princess.”

Outside, the air is still warm with the remnants of the set sun, even as lamp posts cast white pools of light onto the pavement. On one side of the car - as it reverses painfully slowly back onto the main street - you can spot the smoothie shop Hoseok was talking about, but on the far side is a Daiso store, and on your side, just in front of you, is the entrance to a cinema complex.

You pause, frowning in confusion, but before you can turn to ask Hoseok, his hand is already on the small of your back, leading you towards the cinema.

“We’re downstairs,” the dom explains, pointing out a sign you’d missed that displays the now-familiar logo of two Rs back to back, beside the B that indicates it’s located in the basement. As he leads you past the small foyer of the cinema and down a set of modest hardwood stairs, his voice lowers. “Although all the walls and ceilings are soundproof, having a bass-boosted movie blasting above you certainly helps drown out the rest of the noise. Gives us a bit more privacy.”

“Clever,” you comment absentmindedly, but your attention has already been caught by the sight that greets you below.

The moment you round the final corner of the narrow stairs, it’s like an entirely different world. Without any natural light, the entryway you step onto is lit mostly with wall sconces, though there’s strip lighting along the very edges of the hallway that glow an ominous red.

In front of you is a roughly oval room. In the centre, a woman with a shaved head and long acrylic nails taps away at a monitor, glancing back and forth from the screen to a large black book just beside it. She glances up when you step down, smirking at Hoseok with clear recognition.

Flanking the outskirts of the room are two bulky bodyguards, and you don’t even notice them until they relax and give him a nod. They seem to protect not only the receptionist but three sets of doors as well.

On the left is a locked door marked with letters engraved onto the wood itself reading STAFF. On the far right, the almost identical door there has no lock, and displays instead CHANGING ROOMS. In the middle, directly behind the desk, are two massive doors with iron handles curved in the shape of flicking devil’s tails, complete with the pointed tips. Instead of any words, each door just has one of the Rs of the logo. Then again, it doesn’t really surprise you that there wasn’t any explicit title or description visible. This was a place that you only went to if you knew where you were going.

“I thought you were taking time off, Sir?” the woman asks in a teasing lilt. She’s almost intimidatingly gorgeous, and you fight the urge to shift closer to Hoseok’s side. Her eyes shift to you nonetheless and her grin widens. “Yet here you are, bearing a gift.”

“Not for sharing, I’m afraid,” Hoseok deflects, and it takes you off-guard to hear the audible difference in his voice compared to what you’re used to. He’s not fully in Master mode, but the bubbly ball of energy has been replaced by the suave charisma of someone who knows he commands the attention of any room. Just as you glance up at him, he looks down with crinkled eyes and lifts the hand on your back up into your hair, not quite tugging, but keeping it there for a moment before he lets his fingers slip through your locks again. He holds your eyes a second longer before turning back to the receptionist. “Red cuffs will do, Sim.”

With a sigh, the receptionist acquiesces, a small silver piercing just below her bottom lip glinting as she shifts and reaches into a drawer at the desk, producing a pair of cuffs that look exactly the same as the ones Hoseok had used on you a few days ago.

She stretches them out towards you, but Hoseok intercepts and chooses to put them on you himself. Though they come connected together by the chain, he unclips and pockets it once the leather is snug around your wrists, leaving you claimed but still free to move. The meaning of the red trim still makes you shiver when you run your fingertips over it, and the sight makes Sim chuckle.

“First time here?” You aren’t sure if the cat-eyed beauty in front of you is asking you directly or Hoseok on your behalf, but you nod anyway. She hums, closing the drawer and pulling a sheet of paper out of another one and placing it on the desktop. “Just because you’re coming in attached to the Big Man doesn’t mean you get to skip the rules. Read them over and sign anywhere on the page to show you’ve understood. And I’ll need to see some ID, verify your age and all that.”

Fumbling to pull your ID out of your wallet, you hand it over and take the photocopy and the outstretched pen from her in turn, scanning the numbered list of rules. There aren’t any surprises, luckily; it reiterates the cuff colouring, safeword systems and staff on site, as well as emergency exits and procedures. There are places to buy drinks and snacks inside, but only spectators can consume alcohol.

“There’s a station for toy rental inside,” Sim explains, handing you back your ID after noting down your details, “with its own set of rules and everything, but I’m sure your Master here will be using his own stash. Our staff wear black clothes with red logos and arm bands, you can’t miss ‘em. Just sign if you’re good, and you two can go on through.”

Hoseok waits while you read, sharing some smalltalk with the two bodyguards in the meantime. Once you sign off and hand the items back to Sim, who dutifully stamps the sheet and files it away, your dom turns to you with a pleased grin. “Shall we?”

The moment Hoseok wraps his slender fingers around those devil tail door handles and pushes them inwards, sound fills the room, no longer held at bay by the seal of soundproofing. Chatter, laughter, the general hum of crowds - they all fill the space around moans and cries and cracks of whips, every possible noise you’d heard on a porn video or experienced over the past three weeks.

It was debauchery in every sense of the word, and Hoseok slipped into the thick of it like a duck in water.

With a single finger hooked onto one of your cuffs by the silver loop, he pulls you in with him, letting you soak in your surroundings as he leads you.

Though you didn’t really have any clear expectations, you’re shocked by the sheer amount of people inside, all gasping at Hoseok and parting in front of him like an adoring sea. The first area is relatively cosy, clearly just meant for socialising.

Couches surround the edges of the room, except for a small bar manned by two insanely hot guys. One effortlessly shakes up a drink, biceps pumping with the motion, and the other chats up a middle-aged woman who appears to flirt back, ignoring the older man kneeling at her feet with a pleading look in his eyes.

They fall out of your sight quickly as you move through a doorway, the sound dropping off just as suddenly. It’s not quite silence that greets you in the next room, however. Just about bumping into a row of occupied seats, Hoseok adjusts your direction so that you move around the back of the room, but that doesn’t stop you from glancing towards the front, where a whimpering girl is strapped to what looks like a medieval set of pillocks by the neck and wrists, her face wet with tears but alight with ecstasy as a gloved man demonstrates to a rapt audience how to fit an entire fist inside her.

Your eyes widen at how openly they display the obscene act. Then again, how is it any different from what you’d been doing in the Villa? Whether it was an audience at home watching through a screen, you’d still let yourself be viewed in much the same way. As Hoseok keeps you stumbling down the back of the room and out a different doorway, you think more about what being that girl on the stage might feel like.

Moving so quickly through the seemingly endless basement, you’re startled when suddenly you’re jolted to a stop in front of an elevator. Hoseok punches in a code that has to be at least seven or so digits on a little keypad beside the doors, before pressing the down arrow.

“Where are we going?” you question, voice still hushed as if you were in the theater.

“Bee’s office,” Hoseok answers simply, but the realisation that you’re about to play with the gorgeous spitfire - with Hoseok watching, no less - fills you with a restless arousal. “She doesn’t know whether you chose to even come here tonight or not, let alone play with her. We’re going to give her a little surprise, princess. I guess I did come bearing a gift after all.”

Once the lift arrives, he steps inside smoothly, no longer holding onto your cuffs. You jump inside, watching him select B2 off the limited selection of floors. “This used to be a carpark,” Hoseok explains casually as you’re slowly lowered down. “But when it got bought by the cinema, they didn’t really need it, so they leased the first below-ground floor to us for a pretty low price. We originally just kept this lift for wheelchair access, but once we got bigger and expanded a little, we decided to move our offices downstairs for an extra layer of privacy.”

The elevator chimes, opening its doors to reveal a hallway similar in appearance to the entrance foyer you first walked into. “But we aren’t going to your office?” you ask, curiosity making your skin itch as he walks right past a door with the letter H on a placard beside the knob.

“Not this time, princess.” Hoseok halts again, and you catch sight of a new door, this one with a B. Spinning on his heel, your dom turns to you and pats your cheeks with a grin, lowering his voice conspiriatorially. “If you’re Bee’s present, we better wrap you up nice, hm?”

Things start to feel distinctly more real when Hoseok undresses you right in that very corridor. You can’t help but worry that somebody could come down in the elevator at any moment, or the service stairs behind you. Watching you squirm with a barely-contained grin, Hoseok does nothing to assuage those fears.

He allows you to keep on your panties, kicking the rest of your clothes to the side and slipping off his own jacket to lay over your shoulders. Though it’s a little big on you, it’s laughably inadequate in covering you up, made of some less-than-opaque black fabric that betrays everything below down to the moles and freckles on your skin. Hoseok looks somehow even more intimidating without the piece on, a fitted tank top exposing his taut shoulders and modestly sculpted arms.

“Knock, princess,” Hoseok instructs, not without the warm hint of fondness that colours his voice.

You do so with a shaky hand - shivering partly from excitement and partly from the chill of air conditioning that fills the hallway.

“I’m busy!” a muffled voice calls out brightly, making Hoseok tut with a rueful smile.

He leans in so that his cheek almost brushes the hard wood. “Do you want to be busier?”

A pause, then footsteps drawing closer.

Before the door even opens fully, Bee is cooing loudly on the other side, clapping her hands in clear joy. “I knew it! Come in, come in!”

Her bubbly personality is at odds with the glossy red latex that covers her body, heels clicking with every skipped step back into her office. Bee waves you in first, letting you enter before you hear her voice lower, asking for permission to touch.

“She’s all yours, feel free to play with her to your heart’s desire,” Hoseok explains easily, making arousal pool between your legs, “the red is for you and me tonight.”

“Splendid,” Bee chirps from behind you, and you jump when you suddenly feel fingers brushing up your spine, even through the thin fabric of Hoseok’s jacket. “Take a seat, chickie, let’s talk.”

In her office, the Mistress shows that same duality of a cheery personality with her dominance. A large corner desk sits in the corner, with a small board of polaroids pinned to the wall and a little terracotta pot of violets and a spray bottle of water just beside it. A small cup with various items of stationery is complete with a tall pen with a fluffy pink pompom on the end, and even from what you can glimpse, it looks like her screensaver on her computer is some stylised LINE friends character.

Yet move your eyes anywhere else in the room, and you see a metal cage in one corner, a flogger hanging from a clothes peg behind the door, various fixtures on the walls, ceiling and furniture that speak of restraint and punishment.

As you perch delicately on a lowset sofa across from her desk, you wonder if Hoseok’s office is much the same. It certainly looks like Bee would take in subs here to play with her, judging by the equipment. Had Hoseok spent evenings with submissive women and men in his office, making them kneel and beg and serve?

The thought stirs something inside you, and for a moment you think it’s jealousy. But then Hoseok beams at you with a salacious wink, settling onto the corner of Bee’s desk, and you realise that it’s less envy and more the feeling like there were parts of him you were missing out on. That there was still so much you had to discover of him, to experience with him.

You wonder if he’ll let you come back to see him here one day, after all this is over.

Suddenly, your view of him is obstructed by the deep red of Bee’s corset and latex pants, her hands on her hips. “You’re looking a little too much at him and not enough at me, chickie,” she croons, almost conspiriatorially as you crane your neck to meet her gaze. She tilts her head, lips curled. “Do we have to send him out?”

You shake your head adamantly, unable to stop your eyes from quickly darting behind her.

She chuckles. “Cute. So soft for her Master.” Your head feels hazy as she slips her fingers into your hair, stroking your head fondly. “I think your Master is soft on you too, baby.”

Without much fanfare, Bee swivels and sits herself down beside you, so close your shoulders and thighs press together. You suck in a breath at the closeness, but the domme just gets closer, flicking your hair over your shoulder and rubbing at the nape of your neck as she watches you intently.

“Did Hobi give you the full tour?” she asks in a low voice, the slight graze of her fingernails making you shiver. “What was your favourite room so far, I wonder?”

You go to shrug, put on the spot so suddenly, but before you can Hoseok pipes up. “The theater,” he states without room for disagreement.

At the thought of the room, you feel desire swim within you. The image of that girl, so vulnerable as a room of at least thirty strangers watched her, analysed her, enjoyed her pleasure just as much as she did. That image hadn’t really left your head since the moment you saw it. Before you even realised it yourself, Hoseok had known. Something about that made you dizzy with your want for him.

But tonight was about Bee, about the intoxicating feeling of being so close to a beautiful, powerful woman. The lady herself hums, pleased. “The theater,” she repeats in a low voice. “Do you like watching, baby?”

“She’s on a porn show,” Hoseok butts in again, his eyes like pointed furnaces on you, wetting his lips between words, “give her more credit than that.”

This time, Bee straightens up and narrows her eyes at the man across from you. “You can stop answering on her behalf, Hoseok, or I’ll put you out myself. You said I get to play with her tonight.”

“Yes, Mistress,” he retorts in a slightly sarcastic, petulant tone, but shoves his hands in his pockets and presses his lips together anyway.

Bee turns back to you, letting her fingers tuck beneath the collar of Hoseok’s jacket so that her palm rests against your bare back. Stroking slowly, she smiles, her eyes glittering. “We can play on the big stage if you want, baby. Would you like that?”

The opportunity, a little bit frightening but mostly extremely arousing, makes you squeeze your thighs together with a hard swallow. “Yes, please,” you mumble in a small voice.

Her smile widens, caramel skin positively glowing in the warm light of her office. “Perfect,” she drawls happily, before standing up, back arching slightly as she stretches. “Then there are a few rules you need to know before I take you out there.”

The two dominants share a look, Hoseok lifting his brow at something written on Bee’s face. “Really?” he questions in surprise, chuckling reluctantly. “You’re going all out, huh?”

Even as confusion overtakes you, you watch in rapt curiosity as Bee shrugs, slipping past him to open a tall, skinny cabinet just behind her desk. There’s a large, dark brown coat there, but her hand delves deeper, pulling out a thin yet tough-looking strand of nylon rope, a suggestive deep red almost the same shade as her bodice.

“I dyed these myself,” Bee explains, her voice light and warm like honey. You watch as she lets the length pass over her palm loosely. “I don’t know if Hoseok told you, but rope bondage is my specialty. If you wear this, everyone out there will know you belong to me.”

You bite your lip, heart racing as she slips off Hoseok’s jacket, chucking it towards him without a glance as she keeps her focus on you. Her eyes gleam as she slips the rope around your back, beginning to loop and fold it. “What are the rules?” you ask, voice already airy with the arousal that peaks your nipples and sends shivers down your spine with every drag of the rope.

If it was possible, Bee appears to have even more subdued prowess with ropes than Hoseok does, her fingers nimble and practiced, moving so quickly that it leaves lines of hot friction against your skin. “The rules?” she repeats casually. “Well, the first one is that I expect you to address me by my proper title. Do you know what that is?”

Swallowing the dryness in your throat, you nod. “Mistress,” you croak out, almost stuttering on the word that feels so unfamiliar on your tongue. Your cheeks heat up, embarrassment only heightened by how close she stands to you, flooding your senses.

“That’s right, chickie,” she praises, tugging the rope suddenly, making sure there’s no give as your bare chest is yanked forward. Satisfied, she tucks the ends in neatly and places her hands on your waist, taking in her work. It’s a basic chest harness, like one you remember Hoseok putting you in, but there’s beautiful flair all over, with arches and keyholes and braids that slip between your breasts, along your spine, shoulders and ribs. Almost like a bralette, the main difference being that your breasts themselves are fully exposed to her - and Hoseok’s - roving gaze.

“Now,” she continues, “rule two. You don’t have permission to speak unless I ask you a question. I used the limit sheet for you that’s on the Bangasm website, but if there are any changes throughout the scene, the only words you can say at any time are your safewords. I’m sure you’re familiar with it, but here at Red we use the stoplight system. Is that clear?”

It’s easier to say the second time. “Yes, mistress.” Still, the excitement low in your belly just grows with the way she nods in approval. Your desire to please sets in quickly, and the rope on your chest and the leather around your wrists feel like a promise of what’s to come if you continue to please her.

Jerking her head to indicate that Hoseok should open the door for her, Bee turns to you and hooks a finger under a strand of the rope, just under your breast. “And the final rule is more important since this is my first time playing with you. If something feels good, you thank me for it. Like this.”

Before you can even process it, lips softer than silk press against yours, chaste but unforgiving as you’re pinned in place by the harness in her grip. She smells sweet, slightly floral like gardenia or jasmine, and she tastes like strawberry chapstick.

When Bee finally pulls away, your head feels hazy, on a lag. Your lips still tingle from the missing contact, but you let out a dreamy, “thank you, Mistress,” without even thinking.

She grins at your reaction and turns towards the door, pulling you behind her with that finger caught on the rope. “God, it’s been so long since I’ve had a sweet girl like you to play with,” she croons back at you, before patting Hoseok on the chest with her free hand. “Thank you for the gift, Hobi.”

There’s a strangely smug feeling inside you as Bee leads you out of the office, back into the chill hallway and up the elevator. Hoseok trails behind, and some part of you is thriving in that feeling of being the focus of his and her attention. And even as you’re led back into the theatre, going right through the middle of the seats before veering off to the right to go behind the wings, the eyes on you feel electric.

Just like that woman that was on the stage earlier - it now sits empty in an interlude, the audience chatting amongst themselves - you feel like a pillar of desire, a pretty thing for everyone to look at, but only for a few to touch. The red cuffs and red rope lift you higher into that headspace, submissive yet superior in a way.

The attention of those strangers is addictive, and any uncertainty disappears with the need for them to replace those brief glances of curiosity with full stares, the kind of intense focus that you’d only receive by being out on that stage.

There are a fair amount of people backstage. At least three or four people in black shirts with STAFF printed in glossy block letters flitter around, chatting to the others or checking equipment. The lady from earlier is still behind there, wrapped up in a fuzzy blanket, like one you’d see in a sick bay in high school. A large man, beefy like a body builder, tenderly hugs her from behind as they sit on a couch, and takes a bottle of lemonade from a staff member, gently encouraging her to drink.

You hear Bee catching the attention of a staff member holding a clipboard, chatting to him, but your attention is caught by the woman. Her face is glistening with tears, sweat and even some drool, and she looks exhausted yet elated, giggling weakly when her dom pats her clean with a paper towel. With a kind of delicate care and patience that seems at odds with his rather aggressive appearance, his lips move close by her ear, words just meant to be shared between the two of them.

When you did intense scenes with the guys, did you look like that? The thought sticks in your mind as Bee’s bright voice remains in the background. There was something so loving and meaningful about the connection that you felt to the guys after a scene like that, and the couple in front of you seems like a physical representation of that emotion.

Suddenly, pain spikes in your chest at the reminder that you’ll never have that connection with Jin again, that every week you’d have less and less moments like those. And instead of cherishing them, you were here, about to do a scene with a near stranger, in front of actual strangers.

Suddenly, your original idea of escaping the Villa doesn’t seem to be as appealing.

Glancing up, that pain turns to alarm as there’s a missing presence around you. Bee is finishing her conversation, waving away the staff member before turning to you, but the two of you stand alone.

“Mistress,” you offer up, biting harshly on your tongue when you realise belatedly you’re breaking her second rule already, “where is Hoseok?”

Before she can furrow her brows for your disobedience, they knit together instead in concern. “He’s getting a good seat in the audience, chickie. Were you not paying attention?”

Your cheeks heat, and you apologise in a rush, letting your eyes dart over to the post-scene couple one last time. She’s fallen asleep, his chin propped up gently on the crown of your head, and you feel like you’re intruding by observing them any longer.

Bee notes your distraction, but just sends you a bemused smile and grasps your chin so that you’re forced to face her. “We’re going to go on now,” she enunciates clearly, and the reminder of reality clears your mind a little, “I’m due to teach a demonstration on bondage, are you okay with that? It’s nothing too intense.”

You nod quickly. Perhaps there was something wrong with you, or perhaps you were just kinkier than you thought, but in your experience, being tied up or tied down felt calming and grounding in a way that you think is necessary given the whole new world of live exhibition that you’re about to undertake. “I’m okay with it, Mistress.”

“Good. Keep our rules in mind, chickie; let’s go have fun.”

For some reason, applause is not something you’d considered, expected or prepared for. Your cheeks heat the moment you step out, lights so bright that the audience is swimming silhouettes, and are met with passionate clapping.

Though you know it’s for Bee - she drinks it in with a proud beam, totally in her element on stage - it’s an audible reminder of the attention on you right now. If your panties weren’t soaked through before, you can definitely feel wetness on your thighs now.

“Thank you, thank you, it’s good to be back up here!” she cheers out, and you jump when her voice reverberates. The sound carries in here so well that just a speaking voice seems to fill the room. You wonder if later on, your own moans will surround you in much the same way.

Bee lets go of her grip on your harness and ducks her head in, quickly instructing you to kneel in a ‘comfortable way’. You’re surprised when the stage floor is solid, yet not as painful as you’d expect on your bare knees. You adjust a bit so that the pressure is off your kneecaps and ankles, and look up at the domme, listening to her spiel.

“Welcome back to our Red Members, and welcome for the first time for any newcomers. My name is Mistress Bee, I’m the resident bondage, suspension and shibari expert here.” She pauses while a few scattered claps ring out, and you preen when she shifts to the side, stroking the top of your head as she continues. “Last week I did a demonstration with the lovely Mikey on some common suspension ties. From week to week, I want to teach you all the ins and outs of suspension, because it’s a very rewarding craft for the dom and the sub, but it’s also pretty complex. So before we get into off-ground suspension, this week I want to show you my favourite intermediate step: sex swings.”

Your heart thuds, glancing up so quickly that her hand falls over your forehead and eyes, but she just smiles placidly down at you and pinches your cheeks playfully, making a few of the audience members chuckle.

“I have a pretty little chickie here with me today to help me out. Seems like she didn’t guess what we were playing with today, huh?”

Unsure whether it’s rhetoric or not, you carefully mutter a, “no, Mistress.”

“It’s a fun surprise, then,” she quips, before turning back to the audience. With slow, clicking steps, she makes her way to the side of the stage you’d come from, gesturing to a couple staff members.

Your mouth goes dry as a industrial-looking metal post gets lowered from the ceiling, running parallel to the ground, but taller than your arms could reach standing up when it groans to a stop. Two guys rush on stage with a black pile of leather and metal, connecting the chains to the metal pole in two different places. The major component is a flat piece of stiff fabric, clearly meant for your body, with two leather loops on one side to prop up your legs. With the way they’ve hooked it up, you’ll be side-on to the audience.

“Sex swings seem a little cheesy,” Bee begins, and you jump when her voice comes from behind you, varnished nails running over the bare skin of your upper shoulders. “But they’re actually a really good stepping stone for suspension. The dom gets used to maneuvering someone else that’s off the ground, and the sub can experience what it’s like not having their weight supported by the floor at all. They’re also far more cost-effective than good quality suspension gear.”

As Bee explains, your eyes wince against the lights, trying to make out the blurred lines of people in the audience. Hoseok was in there, right now, watching you. But you couldn’t see him. Your heart beats a little harder in alarm, but you force yourself to keep in the scene, wanting to make the most of this unique experience.

The jingle of metal echoes through the modest theater as Bee checks the stability of the sex swing, and soon enough she’s instructing you to stand up and come stand in front of it. You do so as quickly as possible without running over, so excited about being put up in the swing for her to play with that you can barely stand still.

“Let’s get these panties off first,” she decides, hooking in a finger and snapping the waistband against your hip to make you jump. You push them down before you can secondguess it, and just like that, you’re naked in front of a room full of strangers.

Getting up into the swing would be a little awkward normally, but Bee’s unending charisma and charm makes it feel easy. She holds it steady while you do a little jump to rest your ass onto the flat bed, then gets you to lie down, praising you warmly even as she gives professional advice to the audience.

Lying down is okay - your head hangs a little off the edge, so that your vision is upside down and your neck is arched, but the fabric is surprisingly comfortable so it’s no imposition - but one she slips those loops past your feet, resting them in the crooks of your knees, everything suddenly feels very real.

This is exposure in a very different sense. There’s not much give in the chains for safety, but it means that your thighs are spread wide open with no way to cover yourself.

Bee’s rapport with the crowd watching is a steady stream of reassurance, but by the time she lifts your wrists, using the clips on the chain and the loops on your cuffs to bind them straight up, leaving you entirely vulnerable, your chest begins to heave, breaths quick and shallow.

“Still with me, chickie?” Bee questions, and you let out a choked moan when she circles round to your top half, cupping your breasts and rolling your nipples between her fingers softly, the contact grounding you. “Give me a colour.”

Remembering Hoseok’s advice, you pause and take a moment to really think it over. “Green, Mistress,” you decide, trembling when she rewards you by sliding her hand down your chest and stomach, two fingers dipping lower to feel how wet you are, stroking your clit. Your back arches, thighs tense, but there’s nowhere you can go to escape the pleasure she gives you. “Th-thank you, Mistress.”

Leaning over you, patting your cheek fondly, Bee beams down at you. “Good girl,” she praises warmly, before glancing out towards the audience. “So well-behaved, isn’t she? Should I give her a quick reward before we continue?”

Your eyes slip shut in bliss as you hear the audience cheer and clap in your favour, imagining one of them to be Hoseok, watching you from below.

After hearing out the crowd, Bee adjusts her position so that instead of up by your head, she’s between your legs, that hand still lazily rubbing over you as the other grips your waist. “Alright, I won’t argue with that,” the domme quips teasingly, and chuckles as you go rigid suddenly when those two fingers plunge inside of you, crooking up to massage your walls.

There’s nothing you can to do move towards or away the touch. The swing has you completely at her mercy, and that just makes every stroke that much more overwhelming. Bee fucks you on her fingers with a swift, unforgiving pace, and you whine as the obscene wet noise echoes throughout the room.

You feel dirty; dripping on stage as your fists wrap around the chains and your pussy tightens around her. But the taboo and debauchery just turns you on more, and the moment she increases to three fingers, you no longer try to hold back or muffle yourself. A loud cry spills from your lips as she presses against your g-spot, and her gleeful chuckle arouses you even more.

The knowledge that an entire roomful of people are watching you is so hot that you feel electric, but it’s the reminder that Hoseok is somewhere amongst them that sends you over the edge. You spasm in the swing as you cum, hard, and Bee doesn’t let up for a moment, taking advantage of your restraints to continue to fuck you through your orgasm, her other hand joining to rub roughly at your clit to make you sob in oversensitivity. It’s not until your toes and fingers tingle with the force of it that she finally slows down, taking her hands off you with a cheery sigh of exertion.

“Thank you, Mistress,” you try to say, though it probably comes out slurred or garbled. You shiver as aftershocks periodically thrum through your veins, making your muscles twitch, and your eyes slip open to the feeling of Bee pressing a chaste kiss of approval to the back of your hand, still bound to the chain.

“Now,” she says, still a little breathless, “onto the main event. One of the more difficult things of…”

Though you try and stay alert, your body is exhausted and satisfied, and the suspension just makes you feel even more floaty than you normally would after a good orgasm. Your mind flits in and out, and you feel at peace until you hear the echoing click click of heels on hard floor, and see the blurry figure of Bee disappearing backstage.

Alarm flares red inside you, making your heart beat overtime and your nerves screech. You wriggle your arms and legs, but there’s no give, and even as you crane your neck to the side, the stage lights prevent you from being able to find your dom in the audience.

There’s no use in trying to stay calm. Even as that clicking returns, Bee already returning to you, you feel unsafe and anxious, the safeword on your tongue.

But it’s not the safeword that comes out when you find your voice. “H-hobi,” you whimper, squeezing your eyes shut as panic flares in your chest.

Before his name has even fully left your lips, there are hands on your shoulder, rough with callouses. There’s the familiar musk that grounds you, and the heat of a body that cradles your head and presses his lips to your temple, cooing sweet nothings to calm you.

Bee’s voice floats around you, apologising profusely not only to you but to the audience too, but as you open your eyes and see Hoseok, his eyes brimming with concern, you burst into tears of pure relief, wishing you could reach out to him.

Like he knows your needs without you even articulating them, he unclips your wrist cuffs from the chains one at a time, slowly helping you sit up as Bee’s hands are on your legs, taking off the loops that had held them spread open earlier.

The moment you’re up, you fall into Hoseok like he’s a lifeline, clinging to him as your tears wet his sleeveless shirt. His skin is hot against yours, and his chest seems to rise and fall faster than normal as he holds you tightly, stroking your hair.

“I’m here,” he chants over and over, the words like liquid comfort cocooning you. The audience slips away, even Bee taking orders from Hoseok on what to go get is tuned out as you lean into that feeling of security that Hoseok’s embrace gives you.

At one point, he wants to move you offstage for some privacy, but your legs won’t stop shaking. Without a word of complaint, he’s lifting you up with one arm under your ass and the other around your back, guiding you to wrap your arms and legs around him.

It’s all too easy to burrow your face into the crook of his neck and breathe in his scent, your heart rate slowing from the spike of adrenaline. By the time his weight shifts, and you feel the smooth, cool leather of a couch beneath you, exhaustion has seeped into your very bones. You barely have enough energy to focus back on his voice, but you force yourself to, blinking blearily as he cups your cheek and meets your gaze.

“I think I know what happened there, what spooked you,” Hoseok says slowly, his eyes deadly serious even as his fingers gently stroke your jaw. “Did you not like not being able to see or touch either of us?” You manage to nod weakly, and Hoseok’s brows furrow in internal guilt. “I’m so sorry,” he apologises hoarsely, “I should’ve warned her before, I should’ve been closer-”

He breaks off as Bee rushes over, face pinched, and hands Hoseok a folded up blanket. The feeling of the soft, yet slightly weighted fabric covering your naked skin feels like heaven, and it calms you just that little bit more.

Hoseok meets your gaze again. “Bee wants to chat to you, princess, to say sorry. Do you want to see her now or talk with her later?”

You feel guilty for saying it, but you just want to selfishly indulge in Hoseok now, no one else. “Later,” you admit, and the domme nods in solemn understanding, bowing her head at the two of you before departing.

“What do you need, Y/n?” Hoseok asks, in a voice so low it could be a whisper. You blink at him, at the deep concern on his face. “What can I do to make you feel okay? To feel safe and calm?”

You know the answer. It’s not something you’d admit normally, not something you’d request were you not feeling so terribly adrift and in need of comfort. You fist your hands in his shirt - wrists still adorned in red cuffs that said you were his - and wet your lips. “Kiss me?”

He pauses long enough that you think he may deny you, but then you feel his chest rumble with the words, “just this once,” before he dips his head and kisses you, slowly and carefully, like you might break. Your heart swells with every slight movement of his lips, but they’re gone all too soon, replaced by your own fingers as you touch your lips in wonder. “Better?” he asks in a strained voice, still stroking your back through the blanket.

“Better,” you reply, though already you miss his lips on yours. But feeling his arms around you, and his heart beat against your ear when you lie down is good enough for you, enough for now.

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