#Being pounded day after day in that place might not eat away his mind

[dollya-robinprotector]

Honestly my head canon for Whitney is that when he feels something that doesn't make him feel dead inside (pc) he freaks out. So his bullying is somehow apn attempt to control pc and an attempt to keep them away. Because if he can't control them, they will eventually leave him, so he needs to get rid of you first. Like the dude is an emotional mess, scared of any good emotions.

Imagine what a mess he is after waking up and realizing that PC rescued his sorry ass from the UB...

[chrollohearttags]

kinktober day five

character: multiple (written with some of my fav, big dick slanging demons in mind: tengen, taiju, takita, zoro, draken, gojo, ony, etc.)

kink: size kink

show: multiple (JJK, Demon Slayer, OP, AOT, TR, etc.)

word count: less than 1K idk

content + themes: squirting, heavy drinking, dirty talk, subby reader (described as plus sized), daddy’s used, slaps the reader like once, choking, halloween themed (they’re in costumes), missionary

── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.─── ── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* : ── ･ ｡ﾟ☆:

“..nngh! Daddy..okayyy, fuck! It hurts..”

“Ah, ah…I don’t wanna here that now. Take it..take this dick like you said you would earlier.”

if there was ever a time in your life that the sentiment of “eating your words” had stood true, then it was this moment right here..somehow, your seemingly normal night of partying and dancing with friends at a fun Halloween party had quickly turned into you being drilled into your plush mattress and your legs pinned back behind your ears! Truthfully, it wasn’t the first time you’d landed yourself in this type of predicament and most certainly wouldn’t be the last but there was a certain intensity about your man that you couldn’t quite pinpoint…perhaps it was your constant misconduct. Being a brat and defying him when he told you you’d had one too many. Insisting you were fine and snatching away. Or maybe even shaking your ass on another man in an attempt to make him jealous. Whatever the root cause, you were certainly regretting your poor decision!

“ ‘S too much…goddamn..so fucking big.”

instead of chopping it up with your girls or taking pictures in those matching Spider-Man and Spider-girl fits, the crotch area had been torn to shreds and his hand was cradling your throat with a vice grip. Your entire lower half was trembling in immense pleasure; sticky from the constant stimulation that tight little pussy being pounded into oblivion. Cream dripping all down the sides of your plush, mocha colored thighs..such a perfect contrast. Clutching your own legs, you’d claw those long acrylics into your skin as those brown eyes rolled to the back of your skull; your body jolted around by those deep, unrelenting strokes. Although you two fucked like animals, it never made it any easier to adjust to how massive he was. Even after trying his damndest to train that body of yours, you could never take him past the halfway point. That thick girth, mushroom tip swollen from the repetitive prodding and those big, round balls smacking against your clit. It felt amazing but it was always a challenge. Releasing a series of whiny and shrill cries, you’d attempt to paw at his shredded six pack but to no avail, you couldn’t keep him out of you. The collision of your flesh filling the room alongside his deep voice, taunting you endlessly..it certainly didn’t help when his larger frame towered over you as well. Regardless of you being a bit bigger than the average woman, he handled you as if you weighed nothing more than that of a feather. Picking you up and thrashing you around at his leisure..it was so hot!

“Talk your shit now, baby. C’mon. Talk that shit with my dick inside of you.”

giving you another reminder not to try him with his thumb circling your clit. His hands soon made place on your pudgy little tummy, which he used to reign you in. His thrusts because faster by the second and you were coming unglued even quicker, quivering and quaking, he’d soon bog all of his weight down on your frame, truly honing in on your sweet spot. He was ensuring you had nowhere to run..it wasn’t long before that tight cunt was squeezing him with all your might and letting those first few inches stretch you open, just enough to get exactly what he wanted. “Come..” his only command and you’d follow shortly thereafter with a giant stream of spraying juices that coated his pecs and abs. A show that didn’t halt for almost an entire minute!…leaving you completely paralyzed with pleasure. Smacking your thigh, your boyfriend cackled in the most maniacal manner as he watched you writhe underneath him. Offering only more snarky remarks rather than solace.

“Next time, don’t get cute and make a scene in front of your little friends..you’re not in charge here, remember that.”

[pillowspace]

Fnaf au ramble yada-yada

New thought that's stuck on my mind. One of those time travel fix-it Michael AUs, except Charlie also time travelled after Pizzeria Simulator. Neither of them knows the other remembers everything, and both are too distracted trying to comprehend the sheer normalcy of their own realities to really process how different the other person's acting.

Henry's very concerned as to what's happened to his daughter, as Charlie's suddenly become much more still and quiet, lacking her typical innocent cheer. She forgets to eat or drink until Henry reminds her to, and she won't tell him why she suddenly seems so on edge all the time. She was in terrible conditions as the Marionette for years, she has no idea how she's meant to be a person again. She sits in the same room as Michael and just stares at him, and whenever she's not looking, Michael's staring at her, thinking about a strange history that no longer exists but has put a massive barrier of tension between them both.

But there's also one issue with the time travel.

Neither Charlie nor Michael can remember when any of the deaths are to happen until they're happening.

So one day, Charlie gets locked out of the pizzeria in the rain. At first she pounds on the window, but then she stops. She backs away from it. There is a powerful, suffocating dread in her chest that is so much more than just her aversion to rain, demanding her attention. Something is very, very wrong. Now becoming even more nervous, she tries to recall how she had gotten back inside the building that day.

And she realizes.

She does not have a single memory past this point.

And before a car can even turn the block, Charlie runs.

At the same time, Michael was also running. He had regained the memory of this being the day Charlie dies, and is determined to make it to her before his father can. Only to turn the corner and, sprinting as fast as he can, crash directly into Charlie who had been doing the same. Michael barely has time to regain his focus on the sidewalk before Charlie is already scrambling back up and running past him to gain more distance.

So... life successfully saved! By... herself. What changed? And why had she been running so scared if, when Michael asked, his father hadn't even seen Charlie that day...? And as time goes on for even longer, Michael slowly starts to pick up on Charlie's oddities. Out of everything, it sticks out to him that when her birthday arrives, a birthday that she had never had the chance to see before, she only makes one request:

She wants a music box.

Eventually it'll have to fall into place.

Cassidy could have also time travelled, but I'm hesitant on that because the AU might just end the second they find a fatal weapon. Then again, I could give Cassidy the added bonus of not remembering who their killer even was, so one day they just grab Evan by the shoulders like "Evan. Evan, there is an imposter among us and I have no idea who it is, I'm going to explode. Tell me if you see a murderer" and he's like "there's a WHAT?? D':"

[myillicitaffair]

One of your girls part two | Carlos Sainz Jr

Summary: after a fateful outcome, Carlos wants to fix what he unintentionally broke.

Warnings: english not being my mother tongue, angst, alcohol consumption, dirty dancing, small description of throwing up, cheating, mentions of sex, messed up dynamics, slight swearing.

Notes: second part of this fic. i also wanted to say i’m currently taking request, to anyone who might be interested xx.

Credits: the gif used belongs to @neymarhamilton ‘s tumblr account, so all credits belong to them. this part, just like the one before, is inspired by the song “one of your girls” by Troye Sivan.

1.8k

SIX MONTHS AGO:

A chilly night welcomes my friend group as we make our way through a prestigious and crowded restaurant situated in the heart of Madrid.

Being born and raised in Spain´s capital city, the girls now walking into the facilities have been by my side my whole life; faith brought us together our first day of school, just three frightened little kids trying to survive elementary.

I like to believe that we complement each other, even if we hadn´t met all those years ago, life would have found a way to connect us.

A girl’s night out is a rare occurrence between us; always being on the shy side, we very much prefer staying in, drowning ourselves in sweet treats while marathoning our comfort romcoms.

The reason why we´re summoned tonight is quite simple… my very first broken heart.

You see, in an attempt to lighten the mood, my friends brought us to an extremely exclusive eatery, one where we clearly didn´t fit in. The difference was quite notorious, surrounded by leggy models and their handsome companions, I quite frankly begin to wonder why I ever agreed.

With a deep breath, I straighten my back and let the hostess remove my coat. “In for a penny, in for a pound” I think with a resigned shrug of the shoulders.

As we´re carried to our spot, I try and take the essence of the place in. I start noticing its eccentric décor, dim lights brightening the burgundy walls, leather booths scattered all over the classy tile floor.

What makes an ordinary dinner such a big success? Its bizarre modality.

Our table is filled with strangers, completely engulfed in their different conversations. The main reason for my friends to take us to this unconventional location was exactly this; the inexorable need to engage in conversations with foreign people.

The first round of dirty martinis arrives as the last costumers take their places next to me, with a lousy cheer I pour the drink down my throat, feeling its pleasant burning down my body, warming me up, making me forget.

“Easy there tiger”- the man sited by my side chuckles, gesturing towards my empty glass.

I take a moment to wander across his features. Thick eyebrows, big brown eyes, plump lips. Definitely attractive, exactly what I need.

A smile creeps up my face, the wires in my brain getting to work.

I notice an elegantly worn designer shirt hugging his chest, his forearms resting against the wooden surface, his attentive stare trying to read my thoughts.

“And you are?”- I condescendingly tease him.

“Carlos”- his hand travels to mine, embracing me with his warm- “Carlos Sainz.”

The subtle body hair covering his fist tickling my naked skin, igniting a fire deep inside me.

And in that moment, I simply knew there was no getting out, not anybody else as long as he kept staring at me like this, eating me raw with his gaze.

That was the first night I ever came back home with him.

————

FOUR MONTHS AGO:

Carlos is away for the weekend, oceans separating us, palpable distance every time he races through my mind.

I try convincing myself It’s the sex I miss, the obvious physical attraction, the invisible force that pulls us towards the other, the feeling of his warm skin being impossibly closer to mine.

Truth being told, I’m sitting immovable on my bed, nervously waiting for a call.

I can’t help but recall his soft locks intertwined with my fingers, his tongue inching towards my neck, how he never fails to make my blood boil with a simple grin.

My phone brings me out of my daydreams, screaming for attention as a call enters it. His name glistening on the screen, filling me with pure bliss and forcing me to hold my giggles.

Acting like a schoolgirl with a crush while being a full-grown adult… how pathetic!

Two rings go by before i pick up, bitting my bottom lip to keep my voice calm as if I wasn’t desperately clinging to it seconds ago.

“Gorgeous, you got a minute to spare?”- he asks, clear amusement in his tone, abusing the charm he knows he has.

“That depends, Carlos, who’s asking?”

I’m gobsmacked at how composed I sound, nowhere near how I actually feel.

My knuckles turn white from grasping my sheets.

“Don’t be like that, princess, I know you miss me”- his smile visible through his speech.

My heart skips a beat, can his words be revealing my true feelings?

“Oh honey, keep lying to yourself if it helps you sleep at night…”

I’m met with his scandalous laugh filling the line, raising my pulse until it’s beating on my ears.

Everything stops, everything keeps going.

I close my eyes in acknowledgement, being forced to admit what i’ve been denying ever since I met him.

Oh, how screwed I am!

———

TWO MONTHS AGO:

The music rumbles at the disco, throbbing on my skin with its intensity.

Being dragged to a hip party, my friends and I are bundled up in the comfort of our own group, dancing between ourselves.

As I rock my body to meet the pulsating rhythm, I embrace Carlos’s presence behind me, tightly grabbing my waggling hips.

He presses himself into me and I rub against his growing erection, purposely torturing him. His kisses start straying while sucking visible red marks into my neck.

His penetrating cologne invades my nostrils, clinging into my bare skin like a golden tattoo.

The mix of the alcohol I insisted on chugging and his hands shaping my whole body becoming intoxicating.

A foreign touch on my shoulder makes me open my eyes, leaving me to face my friend staring at me like i’ve grown a second head.

“You’re coming with me”- she pronounces as she drags me away from Carlos, who snorts in disbelief.

“What? Why?”- I ask as i’m forced to take a seat at the bar.

“Have you gone mad? You two were literally dry humping each other in the middle of the crowd!”- She hisses worriedly, forcing me to drink the water bottle she bought for me.

As she sits next to me, I prepare myself for the lecture she’s about to impart me, letting my eyes wonder across the dance floor.

I catch a glimpse of Carlos standing against a wall, hemmed by complete darkness, sometimes interrupted by one of the dj's lights.

When the spotlight lands on him, I start noticing the delicate hands hugging his broad shoulders, the almost nonexistent distance between him and the blonde caressing his cheeks.

Bile climbs up my throat, threatening to be ejected thanks to the scene before me.

Her lips all over his neck, staining the collar of his white shirt with lipstick.

Realizing i’m not paying an iota of attention to her, my friends follows my gaze stumbling across the sequence.

Effortlessly, she yanks me away from the enclosed space and into the garden.

Without being able to stop myself, I empty the contents of my stomach into the ground, constantly replaying the flashbacks of their sensual dance.

“Everything’s okay now, love”- My friend states while caressing my tangled up hair. Her fingertips come into contact with my cheeks, brushing my tears away.

Sobs are quick to scape my lungs, becoming more and more erratic as I imagine the second by second unfolding inside the disco.

———

PRESENT:

After running away from Carlos’s house, in the middle of a Madrilenian night, I’m fast to hide into the loneliness of my apartment.

I can’t even find comfort in blaming him as I was the one to agree with our “no exclusivity policy”, believing I could make it work.

How stupid of me to think I would be capable of not being trapped into his nets.

Clearly the only solution I can possibly come up with is crying it out, and that’s how I found myself in this situation; puffy eyes, completely ruined mascara, quivering eyes from shedding way too many tears.

Could I have been more stupid? I can’t even resonate one good reason why I would ever accept what he’s willing to offer me while wanting him in his entirety.

My determination is easily devastated as desperate fists bang against my door.

“Please, open up”- A too familiar voice implores from outside the apartment.

“I don’t ever wanna see you again”- I manage to scream through whimpers.

“I beg of you, please let me in! I swear I can explain.”

Standing right on the other side of the door, I feel my hand toying with the doorknob, trying to determinate whether or not to listen to his pleas.

“There’s nothing to explain, Carlos!”- I say, above a whisper, my voice to fragile for anything else.

“There’s been a while since i’ve been with anyone else, alright? Not since all I could think about was you!”

An unbreakable silence fills the hallways of the building, only the sound of his pantings and heavy breathing interrupting the stillness.

Without much hesitation, I open the hinges separating us.

Clearly, I was nowhere near prepared for the view before me; his full brown eyes now shimmering with unshed orbs, accumulated in his tear ducts.

“How about the girl from the voicemail?”- I ask, almost scared to find out this is all a product of my imagination.

“I know what that seemed like, but I promise you it’s not what you think!”- he says, piercing me with his gaze- “That was my ex girlfriend. She has a hard time letting go of me, even though there’s been more than a year since we’ve last been together. I never answer her calls and that’s why she’s getting more and more desesperate.”

Everything around me stops just to listen to his next words, my heart betting so out of control he might even hear it.

“Back at my apartment you told me you were enamored by me, well, there’s no use in trying to deny i’m in love with you”- he whispers, just loud enough for me to hear- “so much it’s physically painful, it’s all I can think about.”

My brain turned into mush as his confession sinks in. I almost want to laugh at how ridiculous the idea seems to me; the man I love, probably the only one i’ll ever love, stating that my feelings are reciprocate.

A sigh leaves my parted lips as a quiet tear runs down my face.

“I know i’ve made my mistakes and believe me when I say i’ll regret them every minute i’m on this earth, but I promise you, that if you give me the chance, i’ll make it up to you until my dying breath”- his voice sounds shaky, as if he couldn’t believe the words coming out of him.

I don’t think I ever reacted as fast as now, jumping into his embrace, wrapping my arms around his neck and my legs around his torso. Little giggles leave both of our mouths at the ridiculous situation.

“I love you”- He murmurs, muffled by the kisses he’s pressing against my checks.

“I love you too”- I answer back, with our bodies still entwined.

[pinky-glitz]

ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴀʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ᴋɪɴᴋs? 2

Part 2 ~ MDNI. Warnings: Breeding/Creampie, Oral giving + receiving, Praise, Degradation, Cock warming, Impact Play, Temperature play, Role play, BDSM, Voyeurism, Food play, Anal, Edging, Choking, Overstimulation, Body worship, Corruption kink, Blood play, Bondage, Double Penetration, Titjob.

Midoriya

Breeding kink. I don’t make the rules I mean? Just look at him. He loves kids and is a big family man. He wasn’t sure how it started or where it began but the first time he sheathed himself in your gummy walls and you begged him to cum in you, he was hooked. He’s the kind of guy to be into cream pie, after filling you up with his seed, he wants to watch it seep out and stuff his back in with his thick fingers.

Oral. He is a giver! This boy is so dedicated and a servicer. He loves giving you head, having you spread out on the bed, glistening pussy all bare for him to please is one of his favorite places to be. It’s so sloppy and he gets so intoxicated and heady. Eating you out also gets him so turned on, he’ll be rutting into the sheets while you’re whining under his tongue, his hooded gaze glued to your pretty expressions.

That does not mean he turns out a good sloppy toppy from you 😂😂😭 tho he doesn’t know what to do since he’s used to being the provider so just sitting back and watching you gobble him down is quite an experience.

Praise kink! He gets off from littering praises on you and receiving praises too. He’ll be mumbling the most sweetest things while he’s crushing your cunny 😂😭✋🏼 like

“That’s a good girl. You can take it all in, I know you can.”

“What a pretty baby, I’ll give you whatever you want, Imma take real care of you.”

“Don’t cry princess, is the pleasure too much for my baby?”

Cock warming. For the lazy days when he’s so tired from a long day/week of patrolling and fighting crime. When he doesn’t have the energy to give a mind fucking experience, he’ll sit you down on his girthy cock and cuddle, watching a favorite tv show of you guys while lazily playing with your clit, pressing soft kisses on your cheek and earlobe.

Shouto

Temperature play. You guys knew this was coming. Like how can it not be here. 🤨 Shouto has his ice-fire quirk and he only sees it for the fighting aspect, that was until you introduced the aspect of what it could be 👀. Sexually. Needless to say, he was intrigued and was compliant to your suggestion.

The best sexual decision in his life probably 😂😂 he becomes a groaning, whimpering mess when you pour the candle wax on his cold side, deliberately on his sensitive nipple and belly while you glide ice cubes on his fire side and encircle the cold blocks on his nipple, pulling a moan out of him.

Does car sex count as a kink 👀 bruh he’s into that Voyeurism shit. Todoroki is so aloof he’s down to fuck in a bush, if you two are at a celebratory party and horny, you can bet your ass he’ll take you behind a canopy where people are just a few feet away from you two and pound you from the back. Shifting your dress and panty aside to send you to heaven without batting an eyelash.

Yes, there’s been some scandals about that on entertainment news.

Food play. Shocking? Not really 😂😂 it came off as a spur of the moment thing. You spraying whipped cream on him and then he squeezes some chocolate syrup in retaliation and what do you know. A new kink has been unlocked for him. Licking your chocolate coated nipples and kissing your sweet lips was just too fun and enjoyable

Bakugo

Anal. I mean??? He’s into that shit 😂😂😂💀 (why does that sound weird in this context) so it’s no brainer that since he’s such an ass man he doesn’t mind fucking you in the ass. To him, it’s much safer and you’d not have any pregnancy scares 🤷🏼‍♀️

Edging. He loves edging you, he’s sadistic like that. Bringing you so close to cumming and then taking it back sends pleasure down his spine especially when you’re begging with your might and soul to cum and he gleefully denies it. Teasing you and telling you how you need to earn the right to cum. He can make it drag for an hour and more leaving you throbbing and crying.

Choking. 👀 don’t tell me you didn’t expect this? 🤨 I mean while he’s edging you till thy kingdom, he found out that wrapping his hand around your neck makes his cock so hard and that slutty expression on your face can almost tip him to edge. So here’s the thing, choking you to him is a sign of trust and plus nobody sees these sides of you so it’s an honor too.

Impact play. I mean? Duh! He has you over his lap while you’re wearing those tight stockings that totally drive him feral and he’s smacking your ass he loves so much. Loving how bruised it looks and how hot it feels under his palm. Plus you just let out the most prettiest whines he’s ever heard. He also slaps those cheeks of yours whenever you’re fucking. Be it from behind or when you’re riding him. Know his hands are never far away.

Overstimulation. It’s just a part of his sadistic side. Pressing that vibrator on your clit and watching you cum for the seventh time with your eyes rolled back and your legs trembling violently. Screaming profanities and babbling incomprehensible gibberish that all sound like music to his ears. Breaking you down and pulling you back up to do it all over again.

BDSM. What did you expect 😂😂😂 yes he’s into that way of life and yes he studied to be a good Dom. He actually attended classes for this 💀 He figured that the whole BDSM life was so sensually exhilarating and got his blood pumping and was one of the only ways he felt immense pleasure. So you’re his good bratty sub and he’s your strict dom who punishes his baby when its due and rewards her when she deserves it.

Body worship. It goes two ways with him. He wants you to admire every rippling muscle on his body, yes he works hard to maintain his godly physique so do compliment him. Rub your hands all over his body and kiss every spot because that’s what he’s going to be doing to you.

Degradation/Praise kink. Yes he’ll degrade the hell out of you, calling you the nastiest of names and shaming you for bouncing on his cock but in a heartbeat he’ll be the same man praising you, saying,

“Atta’ girl, you deserve my cock. Been a sweet little bitch for me, I’ll fuck you like the whore you are, angel face.”

Tokoyami

Corruption kink. This is a no brainer tbh. He’s just poetic like that, there’s something about the person he’s with being so innocent, cute, soft, naive that just feeds into this side of him. He feels mad guilty about this kink but he can’t help it, he just wants to taint you and drown you in his dark desires. Touching you in places you’ve never been touched and being there every step of the way. Fucking you in those frilly cute dresses that are white and yes he’s fucking you in a church. Just doing something so utterly taboo in a church setting just fills the desire even more. Like he’s the Serpent from the garden of Eden coming to tempt Eve, which is you in this context.

Role Play. You should’ve gotten it from the previous call out that he’s that dramatic. He’ll get the costumes and everything and he super down to play different roles. You know that Megan thee stallion line where she said “switching my wig make him feeling like he’s cheating.” Not that he wants to cheat on you but the spice of something new every time. Pretending not to know you in a club or his favorite role, you as a nun and him as a demonic entity. Fuck does that turn him on, the way he pounds your tight pussy in your outfit while you’re holding onto a rosary sends him into oblivion. Saying some stuff about how he’s your God tonight or you’ve strayed from the grace of heaven.

I guess you can say Heaven and Hell became just words to you and him.

Oral. Honey suck this pretty boy’s dick, it turns him to putty. He loves it so damn much. Watching you suck on his cock is one of his favorite sexual endeavors. It’s so nasty yet so sexy. How can you look so cute doing something so dirty, the paradox is something he’ll never grow tire of. So yes baby, gobble down that length.

Double penetration. 😳 Yeah he’s into that. I mean… you’ve got two holes and you love it when he fucks you in either of them so why can’t he fuck you simultaneously? So he’s pounding your ass, your legs spread open for him and your pretty sopping pussy gushing and clenching on nothing and he decides to amp it up for he’s precious princess and plugs up your aching cunt with a vibrating dildo. That just sends you over the edge, leaving you squirting all over his abdomen and boy does that unlock something in him. How much can you take? He still pounds into you while the vibrating dildo buzzes away inside your pussy as you become a stupid mess on the two cocks plugged up in your holes.

Bondage. He has fun with this, the art of shibari and you tied up in silk ropes is not something that inherently sends blood to his cock. He just thinks it’s really beautiful and artistic, still sexy and definitely will fuck you in the ropes but he’s admiring the work before mercilessly rocking your cunt and reminding you who owns it

Blood play. You knew this was going to come. Nothing too extreme, just you cutting him a little bit here and there. The adrenaline of being hurt just feels too good. He’s masochistic like that.

Titjob. Baby, he’s obsessed with those tiddies. Fuck on him with those and you’ve got him wrapped around your finger. It’s just so heavenly, especially when you suck on his dick while massaging your tits around it. He’s a goner 👼

Praise kink. He’ll praise you from heaven to earth. He can’t see himself degrading his princess. He’ll call you all the sweetest names in this world and still fuck you disrespectfully.

[akari-saka13]

“sick days<3” - boyfriend soobin x reader

summary : soobin your boyfriend finds out your sick and takes care of you.

soobin x reader genre : fluff, warrning : common sickness (non-capitals on purpose)

early morning as the sun beams through your window blinds you roll in your sleep distraught due to the scratching in your throat and the heat rising to your head. as you slowly raise yourself upward waking yourself from your sleep you feel a heavy weight from your head pull you back down to your laying position. just then you recieve a phone call, as you wonder who it is you pick up your phone slowly as your head is pounding. you read the caller ID and it reads “soob<3” you clear your throat before you answer the call.

“goodmorning!” your voice sounds rough and strained as you say your light hearted greeting.

“woah- good morning! are you okay?” soobin responds to your greeting but also notices your strained and distraught voice. “your voice sound scratchy, are you sick?” per regular soobin, he gets worried easily. as he talks with worry filling his voice you cant help but feel guilt building up in your mind, you decide it’s best to try not to worry your poor boyfriend.

“i’m okay soobin! my throat is just a bit rough this morning.. i feel great!” as you tell your boyfriend this he cant shake that he feels something is wrong with your health.

“y/n dont lie to me.. i can tell when your not feeling okay. im coming over right now, ill bring you soup!” and just like that he ends the call. you lay there in awe thinking abput how he could tell you lied and how he’s going out of his way to come over and bring you soup. you cant help but feel lucky and happy he’d do such a thing for you without you asking, you cant help but smile to yourself.

as about thirty minutes pass by as you mindlessly scroll on your phone you finally hear some russling at your door. as you go to get up once again the pressure in your head stops you and you fall back onto your comforter. suddenly your door opens and you see your boyfriend soobin standing in the doorway, he has a big smile on his face before he comes running towards you.

“y/n! are you okay? are you sick?” he questions as he hugs you tightly as you slowly melt into the happy boy’s embrace.

“i told you not to worry soob! im doing just fine just a bit out of it..” you say then start to lose breath and cough. clearly you weren’t in your best health at the moment.

after you say that the boy gets up out of your embrace and runs out of the room, as you lay there confused about his sudden leaving after a couple minutes he comes back with a bowl of your favorite soup. as he sits next to you he helps you try to sit up and places his hand on your forehead.

“aigoo y/n! your burning up! please sit and eat your soup.. i want you to get better quickly!” as he says that he takes his hand off your forehead and places the bowl of soup on your lap and starts to spoon feed you your soup. you cant help but quietly appreciate his kindness and think about how lucky you are to have someone like him to rely on.

after finishing your soup he stands up and exits the room once again, he returns later with now a wet wash cloth and gently places it on your forehead moving away the hair in your face. he reaches over to your nightstand and grabs your TV remote and turns to you.

“would you like to watch a movie? i can cuddle with you!” the happy boy says excitedly anticipating your answer.

“soobin.. if we cuddle you might get sick.” you say in disappointment but as you finish your sentence he wraps his hands around your waist and pulls you closer to him.

“that’s okay! dont worry.. i’d be okay getting sick if i means i get to be sick with you!” he says with a bright smile on his face. you stare at him with admiration before hugging back being content with his answer and accepting thats what you both would like. “what movie do you wanna watch?” he questions as he opens netflix.

the rest of that day was filled with cuddles and soobin taking care of you with his caring acts and bright smiles. he really shows how much he loves you with his actions and wants you to feel loved and taken care of. as you guys watch movies the happiness in your heart takes your mind off the pain in your head and throat.

fin.

thank you so much for reading it means a lot if you made it to the end! to be honest this is my first fanfic and i hope it was tolerable to you reader.. this is supposed to be a light hearted one shot/short story so i hope you enjoyed! If you have any recommendations, request, or even advice feel free to tell me! ill gladly take any of you feedback or criticism<3

have a good day/night! <3 ( this fanfic was inspired by @yvjin’s fan fic “ YOU’RE SICK? “ ) so make sure to send them lots of love and i send my thanks and hope they dont mind i tool inspiration!

[vaya-writes]

The Wyvern's Bride - Part 3.1

When Adalyn gets sacrificed to the local wyvern, she’s a little annoyed and a lot terrified. Upon meeting the wyvern, she discovers that he’s not particularly interested in eating people, and mostly wants to be left alone. In a plot to save himself from the responsibilities his family keep pushing on him, Slate names Adalyn as his human Envoy, and tasks her with finding him a wife.

5000 words. Cis female human x Cis male wyvern (slow burn, arranged marriage, eventual smut). firefly-graphics did the divider!

Previous - Masterlist

The next few hours pass in a blur. There’s a gentle rocking and the warmth of somebody’s grip – she's being carried. There are snippets of conversation. She recognises Slate’s voice. Rin’s. The Matron’s. Adalyn can’t keep her eyes open.  

She startles back to consciousness when she’s dipped into a large tub of water. Rinley is by her side. There’s a gentle touch at her hair and somebody massaging soap into her scalp. Water is poured over her head, and her eyes close again.  

She stirs when light hits her face. The world is rocking, though she’s not sure why. Unfamiliar faces surround her. If she were less out of it she might be able to place Slate’s cousins, carrying her on a stretcher. Adalyn shields her face. There’s sky above her; rosy and bright.  

The light isn’t enough to keep her grounded. The fog of exhaustion rolls back in, and she slips from the waking world once more.  

She wakes when somebody places her into a bed. Registers clean sheets against her legs. An unfathomably soft pillow beneath her head. The warmth of an arm around her waist. A familiar voice. 

“Get some rest, Adalyn.” 

Then she’s pulled back under. 

Finally, she sleeps soundly, though her dreams are a tangled, vivid mess. The sheets cling to her, and her mind conjures the image of that gauzy, sheer gown. Of being made to walk through the Trade Festival and all its crowds while clad in it. She’s not usually prone to erotic dreams, but things take a salacious turn. Somebody touches her- Somebody watches- 

Damn. Her head hurts. 

“Ugh.” 

Her own voice wakes her. She rolls to press her face into the pillow, not quite ready to face the day. Regardless, she gradually becomes aware of her surroundings. 

She’s dressed in an unfamiliar night gown; soft. Modest. Comfortable. She’s alone in a bed, sandwiched between silken sheets. It’s quiet. There’s the low crackle of a fire somewhere nearby, and the sound of wind – strangely different. 

Her mouth is too dry. Her tongue is heavy and tastes awful. Combined with her headache, she doesn’t think she can go back to sleep, even if all she wants to do is curl into a ball and wait for the pain to pass. She must be hung over. She’d been up too late. Had too much wine. Too much- 

Oh. Right.  

Slate had warned her of the hangover.  

It’s the realisation that drives her to open her eyes. That she’d taken the third trial. That she’d finished it. That Slate’s bride was to be wed immediately after clean-up, regardless of consciousness. But planning the event and experiencing it are entirely different. No longer clinically detached, no longer separate from the situation, Adalyn reels, struggling to sit up. 

“Hey, take it easy.” 

She ignores the familiar voice, forcing herself into a sitting position, squinting around her and battling through the pounding in her head. 

The covers pool around her; she’d been tucked into Slate’s bed. The balcony door is open, and based on the light, it looks to be mid afternoon.  

Taking in her surroundings, Adalyn can’t help but feel incredibly small. She’s completely out of place within the lavish room. Slate’s quarters are spacious and large, especially now things have been tidied. Clothes have been put away. Chests pushed up against the wall. Weapons, armour, and rolls of fabric sorted and piled neatly. A result of the first trial, she realises.  

The bed, a four-poster with the drapes tied back, dwarfs her. The male before her, despite having returned to his human form, is no better, and even the distance between them doesn’t help her feel any less small. 

Slate leans forward, arms resting on his knees, examining her with a furrowed brow, chewing on his lip. He’d shed his outerwear, wearing a loose white shirt and a pair of high waisted pants. His stare is intense, if concerned, and Adalyn tries not to squirm under it. The last time she’d seen him- 

Her face warms. No longer heated and aroused from the previous night, the idea of doing anything less than proper with Slate is just- 

Adalyn clears her throat. Shakes her head. Immediately regrets it. She groans and presses her hands against her temples. 

“How are you feeling?” His words are soft. Measured. 

Closing her eyes doesn’t help. “Head. Bad.” 

Some of the tension melts away when he snickers. “Yes. That’s to be expected. How about the rest of you?” 

She takes a moment to survey herself. There’s no pain but her limbs are heavy. Her muscles feel like they have the consistency of jelly. Her throat is scratchy and dry, and her stomach protests with hunger. Aside from those things, she feels good. Clean. Fatigued. Weary. But good. 

“Water.” Her voice is a rasp. 

“Of course.” He takes the pitcher from the side table and pours her a drink. “Can you hold it?” 

She grimaces, taking the drink in hand. The tremor in her fingers doesn’t escape Slate’s eye, and he leans in to adjust Adalyn’s pillows. She doesn’t breathe until he’s out of her personal space. Once comfortable, she drains the cup, grateful she can do it herself. 

Not like last night, when Slate had to hold it for her. 

She pushes the thought away, adamantly refusing to think on the events of the previous night. Especially with Slate sitting so close, watching her carefully. 

“Thank you,” she says when she finishes, but Slate only takes the cup and fills it again. She accepts the refill. “And you?” she mumbles between sips. 

He sits back in his chair and lets out a breath. “I feel fine. If anything, relieved. Everyone has gone home. With the family elsewhere, things will be much more relaxed.” 

Adalyn blinks, and frowns. “I knew they were heading off soon, but I’d hoped to say goodbye to Rin at least.” 

Slate shrugs. “She’s usually pretty restless. I was surprised she stayed as long as she did. But she left you this,” he turns and rummages through a pile beside him before producing a folded piece of parchment. “There’s a return address too. I think Rin intended for you to write her.” 

Adalyn takes the letter, heart warmed for a moment. Slate gets up to putter around by the fire. When he returns it’s with a tray of food. She is taken aback at the extravagance – the tray is designed to sit over a person whilst they lie in bed. 

“Fancy,” she pokes at him. 

“Only the best for my wife.” 

Adalyn’s glad she’s finished her drink. She’d have coughed up a mouthful at the statement otherwise. 

“What was the wedding like?” She doesn’t meet his eye, instead poking at her breakfast. It’s leftover soup from last night’s appetiser, and some toast. It’s fragrant, and her stomach grumbles at having waited so long for food. 

“Simple, as far as weddings go. We had the ceremony out on one of the slopes. Rin picked your outfit and did your hair. My cousins carried you on a stretcher.” Adalyn cringes at the image. “Grandmother presided. I said my bit and gave my piece, as per custom, and that was that.” 

“Gave your piece?” 

He nods and reaches for the bedside again. Adalyn, watching this time, catches his grimace, and spies the bandages peeking out when his shirt rises. He passes her what at first appears to be a stone.  

“This is-” 

“My piece. When wyverns marry, they remove a scale from themselves and exchange it with their partners. It’s to symbolise vulnerability and trust. Or so I’m told. It’s just one of those things we’ve been doing for so long that nobody really questions why anymore. I also had to drink an inhibitor, to make sure I don’t heal too fast. It’s a wound that needs to scar.” 

Adalyn is not sure what to say. How to react. But she strokes the scale gently, taking in the slight ridge and the pointed shape. It’s a faint grey, and Adalyn assumes it’s from Slate’s front, considering the scales she’s seen in his wyvern form were darker on his back.  

“Thank you, Slate.” She’s not able to convey her emotions at the words. She’s pretty shocked at the enormity of the gesture. And isn’t sure she’d be able to return it in kind. “Humans usually exchange rings. It seems mild in comparison.” 

He shrugs. “Maybe. I think it’s nice. Rings are a much more public declaration. Scale trading is a bit more private. People won’t see it unless I’m undressed.” 

Adalyn considers in silence, finishing off her breakfast before tackling the cup of juice that had been served with it. When there’s nothing left on her plate, she bites down on her lip. “So, it’s official?” 

Slate leans back in his chair, slumping with fatigue. “Sure is.” 

She frowns. “I’m a little annoyed that I slept through my own wedding.” More than a little, if she were being honest. 

Slate gives her a sympathetic smile.  

“So, what now?” 

“Would you like to move in?” 

Adalyn blinks. “You haven’t finished the bride’s - I mean, my quarters yet.” 

“You could stay here until I do. I don’t mind sharing the space.” 

She thinks about it. It’s not as if she enjoys living in Fleecehold. She has no friends. And with her new husband she won’t have to worry about money and by extension running her bakery. But it could prove isolating being up in the Spires. She’d have no easy way to go to the markets or get her own supplies. She’s sure Slate would help her, but it’s still a definite hurdle. 

Still, when she weighs her options, and allows herself to contemplate what she actually wants... 

“I... think I’d like that. It could be nice. Besides,” she glances towards the room. “I’m looking forward to seeing what you do with the place.” 

When she looks back to Slate, his cheeks are darkened, but he’s smiling. “Do you want to head to the Valley tomorrow to get your things in order?” 

Adalyn shrugs. She moves the tray off of her and pivots so that her feet hang off the bed. She goes to stand, sick of being still for so long, but her legs wobble and she falls back down. Slate catches her by the forearm and guides her back. 

“Yeah. I don’t think I’m going anywhere today.” 

Slate pauses, before huffing a laugh and ruffling her hair. Adalyn tries not to start at the contact. 

“I’d argue if you tried.” 

She frowns and presses her legs together. Swallows her embarrassment for the moment. “I do need to go to the toilet, though.” 

“Do you need to be carried?” 

She glowers, indignant. “I can walk. ...I just need you to help.” 

“Sure. Carrying,” he teases, before helping her up. 

--- 

Adalyn attracts quite a few stares the following morning when Slate drops her off in the hamlet square. Unlike last time, his landing is gentle. His presence, not intended to intimidate, but merely remind. The wyvern remembered what the residents had done to Adalyn, and had no intention of forgetting. 

He brushes his wing against her back before leaving, and Adalyn begins the trek to her former home. 

Her arrival does not go unnoticed, and there’s a small crowed of women outside her door. Three, to be precise, although her neighbours gawk at her from across the lane and from adjacent windows. 

“What happened?” Asks Grace. 

“We saw the wyverns fly off,” says Gwen. 

“Are you okay?” Asks Lindel. 

Adalyn takes a moment to survey the third woman. She looks well enough, dressed and styled as per usual. She struggles to meet Adalyn’s eye for longer than necessary, but that’s not unexpected. Adalyn would do the same in her place, if Lindel had watched her experience the events of the last trial. 

She shrugs, unlocking the door. “I guess I'm married now.” 

Grace drops her draw. Gwen covers her mouth. A cacophony of voices follow her inside. Adalyn allows them to enter, resigning herself to company for the morning. 

She drags her feet before collapsing into one of the lounge chairs. She’d spent yesterday in bed, but fatigue still follows her. The hangover, at least, has faded. All that’s left is the slight burn in her muscles.  

She frowns at the women who sit around her. 

“What happened to Errah?” 

“Lune flew her home. What happened to you? We expected you back yesterday.” 

Adalyn rolls her eyes. “Lindel had to drop out. I took her place.” 

“Did... did they make you?” 

Adalyn scowls. “Literally the whole gimmick of the trial is consent, Grace. I chose to do it.” 

“What about the other trials?” 

She shrugs. “I’d already been tested. Just hadn’t realised.” 

“So... what are you doing back here?” Gwen asks. 

Adalyn casts her eyes around the room. “Packing. I’m moving to the Spires.” 

Gwen and Grace stare. Lindel offers Adalyn a smile. “Why don’t I make some tea, then?”  

--- 

The women stay and help. Adalyn is taking stock her belongings, deciding what to keep and what to leave when there’s a knock at the back door. Gwen and Grace cluster around the window, eyeing Adalyn’s visitor until she pushes them aside and steps out. 

Slate waits in her back garden, two chests at his side. “Do you think these are large enough?” 

Adalyn eyes them. “Yes. Can I trouble you to take care of one of my errands?” 

He tilts his head. 

“I may have gone over budget with the wine.” 

He smirks. “Just the wine?” 

She purses her lips. “I mean, I won’t stop you from covering the other costs too.” 

“Married for two days and you’re already emptying out the vaults.” 

She raises her brow. She’d seen the contents of his vaults, and this would by no means empty them. “Perhaps you should have paid your envoy. Or your caterers.” 

“Touche,” he grins. 

“I’ll get the invoices.” 

Lindel is hovering by the door when Adalyn returns, having banished the other pair. “You’re really going to live with him?” 

“Sure am.” 

The woman follows her upstairs and Adalyn starts rummaging through the documents on her desk.  

“Don’t you find it weird?” 

“I mean, I’d always assumed I’d court somebody longer before marrying.”  

“No, I mean the wyvern thing. The horns. The castle. The,” Lindel gestures to her crotch, “you know.” 

Adalyn grins. “I mean, I don’t have to have sex with him. And I didn’t think the,” she gestures in turn, “was so bad. Did you?” 

Lindel blushes. Shrugs. “They were- fine. It just seems really different.” 

“Going from single to married would be different regardless of whether or not he was human. I honestly think the largest adjustment is going to be living in the keep. It takes like an hour to walk from the kitchen to Slate’s bedroom,” Adalyn’s nose crinkles. “I’m going to get so fit.” 

Lindel gives a soft smile. “Yes. That might take some getting used to. I was mostly wondering... do you want this? Or was it just the most convenient choice?” 

Adalyn pauses. Lindel looks serious. Like she actually cares. Like she’s checking on Adalyn. The way a friend might. 

She puts the observation aside to think out her reply. To allow herself to look inwards and check in with her emotions. For once, she doesn’t have to deny what she feels.  

“I want this. I... want to spend more time with him.” 

Adalyn brings the documents downstairs and hands them to Slate.  

He smiles before he leaves. “I shall return, dearest.” 

She opens her mouth to reply to the new endearment, but Slate is already a shadow in the sky.  

She takes the chests inside and starts with the first floor. From the dining room she decides to keep the furniture. She packs her clock – the only remnant of her family’s wealth - before entering the bakery and surveying the kitchen. 

When Gwen eyes her cookware with some envy, Adalyn decides to take the time to speak with her. Gwen had been the last addition to the suitresses, and Adalyn hadn’t previously felt like getting to know her. 

“You were pretty good in that kitchen.” 

She smiles. “Thank you. I work at our local Inn. Clarence pretty much gives me free reign over the menu.” 

Grace, slouching against the counter, sighs. “That must be nice.” 

Adalyn cocks an eyebrow. “I thought you didn’t like cooking?” 

“No. I mean the free reign. Making your own choices. Having them matter.” 

“I never asked what kind of business you wanted to run.”  

Grace shrugs. “There’s not a lot of options out here, unless I learn a trade. My father is a merchant. I know caravans and travel routes. But I’d prefer something a bit more grounded. Like a general store or a tavern.” 

Gwen frowns. “Stores are hard to break into. There’s not a lot of demand for more shops. I think you’d have better luck with a tavern. So long as you don’t mind serving people. Or cooking for them.” 

Grace grumbles. “I’d probably just employ a chef.” 

Adalyn casts her eyes around the room in consideration. “You know, I’ll probably end up selling this place. And Fleecehold doesn’t have an inn. And with my new situation, I could probably afford to sell on credit.” 

“It’s a big move. From Endwater to Fleecehold,” Gwen says, evading the unspoken question. 

Grace doesn’t. “Big enough of an opportunity that my family wouldn’t argue.” 

Adalyn grins and leaves them to mull it over while she goes upstairs to pack. Her wardrobe, clothes, and linens she’ll keep. Papers, stationary, toiletries. Her memorabilia she wraps carefully before placing into the large chests. There’s still available space when she finishes packing.  

Some of the kitchenware she leaves behind, and she is able to serve the women tea. Lindel plans on returning to her home the following day. After some deliberation Grace and Gwen agree to join her, their routes overlapping for the first leg of the journey. The four of them promise to keep in touch. 

When Slate returns to pick up the luggage, he produces a pile of receipts with a flourish and a smile. “Consider your debts repaid.” 

Adalyn rolls her eyes and thanks him. Gestures to her luggage, and the furniture they’d helpfully piled near the front door.  

“Is this everything?” 

Adalyn shrugs. Glances around her home. Her eyes stray towards the back door. “I’d take the plants if I could.” 

“I could procure some pots?” He’s entirely earnest, as far as she can tell. 

She gives him a soft smile. “Not today.” 

Watching him take flight in a swirl of shadow, Adalyn is struck with the absurdity of the situation. She wonders what her neighbours must make of the sight; a wyvern swooping back and forth, exiting with a wardrobe, or a dining table tucked against its chest. 

She stifles a laugh. 

The day passes without incident, and it’s barely midday by the time Slate finishes carrying her stuff to the Tower. Adalyn escorts the women out of her house, locks the door behind them, and says her goodbyes. Gwen and Grace are deep in conversation when they leave. Lindel gives Adalyn an encouraging smile.  

Then she’s swept off to her new home. 

--- 

Most of Adalyn’s furniture is placed on a lower level. It’s not that her things wouldn’t fit in Slate’s room, but that Adalyn refuses to clutter the space any further. Slate had emptied most of his chests into piles, and it seems like any organising the suitresses had managed had been undone already 

She toes one of the piles – linens, by the look of it – with a frown. “Are we going to have to sort these?” 

“I had to empty some chests to help you.” 

“All of them?” 

He pouts. “I didn’t like their system.” 

She has to roll her eyes at his petulance. “Is this floor covering a better system?” 

He refuses to meet her eyes, cheeks starting to darken. “I’m a wyvern. I like to look over my horde.” 

She cocks a brow. “Perhaps you should invest in some shelving.” 

With Slate reluctant, but at least helping, they spend the next few hours sorting his room. Much of the furniture stays the same, but Adalyn is satisfied to see the weapons thinned (moved to lower levels) and the piles of fabric and precious items collected back into chests. She tentatively adds her linens to Slate’s collection and rearranges her clothes in her wardrobe.  

Slate breaks and retires to his desk, after a point, fussing over some papers and losing interest in the sorting. He allows Adalyn’s attempts to tidy, though she doesn’t touch much other than the clothes that are draped over various surfaces. 

“Perhaps you should use your wardrobe too,” she teases. 

He stands. “Probably, yes. Would you like some lunch? I can bring it up within a few minutes.” 

She frowns. “How?”  

“I can fly.” 

Adalyn sits at the dining table and rests her head against the cool wood, mildly flushed from exertion. “I do wonder if it’s a flaw or a feature that you need to fly to quickly navigate your keep.” 

Slate bites his lip. “I suppose, this place wasn’t built with humans in mind. It’s not too late for changes though. Especially with your quarters.” 

Adalyn shrugs. “I can deal with the stairs. But your stairwell rings the entire mountain. Perhaps you could build a tighter one in my area.” 

He appears deep in thought for a moment. “That’s not a bad idea. Why don’t we discuss it further over food?” 

Try to his word, Slate only takes a few minutes to fetch lunch. There’s hardly any meat left from the feast, but Slate serves the remaining scraps with bread and gravy, providing a filling meal. 

“I could install some dumbwaiters. Or an elevator?” 

“What are those?” 

Slate explains, using his hands to help visualise, quite animatedly. 

Adalyn considers. Then bites back a smile. “So, I’d take the trek downstairs, put food on the dumbwaiter, hike back upstairs, and pull the platform up after me.” 

Slate’s face crumples. “Yes. I suppose you need more than one person to use them effectively. An elevator would make more sense.” 

Adalyn offers him an apologetic smile. “I don’t think that would work.” 

“With the turnstile on the platform, it’d be perfect for single person use!” 

Adalyn shakes her head. “What are you building this thing out of that it can hold a person’s weight, and still be lifted by the person? Even with your pulley system, I don’t think I’d be strong enough to use it.” 

Slate slumps a little. “I’m still working with wyverns in mind. I’ll have to think on it some more. But tighter stairs are a good start. Perhaps your wing could have a central chamber for them.”  

They talk until late afternoon before stirring to continue unpacking. Adalyn frowns at the mess on the desk and elects to put her own documents on one of the side tables. Slate follows the action before glancing back at his desk and grimacing. “You’re welcome to use my desk, despite the clutter.” 

She gives him a sheepish grin. “I might just use my own space for now.” 

He nods before approaching one of his bookshelves and pulling down an unbound cover. “You can use one of these if you like. I should probably put my things away too...” he trails off when he looks at his mess. “At any rate, you’re welcome to use the quills, blank parchment, ink...” 

Adalyn bites down on her lip and tries to push the anxiety away. The casual display of Slate’s wealth is a worry she can deal with later. At a glance she notes several pots of coloured ink. Different types of parchment and papers. A gilded and foreign set of measuring tools. All beyond her means. All intimidating in their opulence. All available for her to use. 

Yes. She looks away, scanning the room for something else to do. She’ll process that later. 

She’s beginning to feel satisfied with her unpacking when she spies one last pile of packages discarded haphazardly in a walkway.  

“What are those?” 

He looks up from his spot on the chaise and cringes. “Wedding gifts.” 

Her eyes widen at the size of the pile. “You haven’t opened them?” 

He shrugs. “I wasn’t in a rush. Besides, many of them are for you.” 

Trepidation fills her. She’s torn between feeling overwhelmed by further luxuries and excitement – she hadn’t received so many gifts since she was a child. 

“Can we open them?” 

He catches the waver in her voice, and his indifference is replaced with a soft smile and a gentle tone. “Go on then.” 

Adalyn spends the rest of the evening unwrapping and sorting her presents. Most of the gifts addressed to her are impersonal. Clothes of fine make, blank journals, jewellery, perfumes, gilded toiletries. She swallows as she picks up a silver comb with a pearl inlay. She hadn’t owned anything so fine in her life, and it was just gifted to her thoughtlessly.  

Slate prompts her to open his gifts too. Wines of nearly ancient vintage, dusty tomes, uncut gems, maps and magical ingredients. There are practical gifts too. Housewarming items addressed to both of them. Fine glassware and dinning sets, embroidered linens, parchment, vellum, inks, tapestries and decorations. More kitchen staples appear too; pots of sugar and spice, salt and pepper. Adalyn inhales their aroma, delighted. 

As they sort and put the gifts away, Adalyn takes the time to examine some of them closer. She puzzles over one from Rin. It’s a box of perfume, unusually named. The other scents that their family had gifted were labelled appropriately; varying florals with detailed ingredient lists on the jar. Rin’s set is more obscurely sorted, with names like ease, aloof, and desire. They don’t register as particular smells either, with Adalyn wafting over each jar and getting nothing.  

“Are these meant to be perfume?” she wonders aloud.  

Slate leans over her shoulder before flinching away. “I’d request you keep that box closed when you’re not using it. They’re a bit overwhelming when combined like that.” 

Adalyn frowns. “I can’t smell them at all.” 

Slate had already moved on, fussing over the new books he’d received, making room on his bookshelf. Adalyn lets the topic drop and places the perfumes with the rest of her toiletries. 

She loses track of time sorting her new belongings and familiarising herself with Slate’s layout. She doesn’t notice the setting of the sun until Slate sets the table and lights the room. When the fireplace is blazing Adalyn rubs her arms appreciatively. It had gotten cold without her realising.  

She pokes at her dinner, wary of the unfamiliar meat. Slate had served it with the last of the soup and had brought up a platter of leftover candied fruits.  

“It’s rabbit. I did some hunting this morning.” 

She sips. Gives him a soft smile. “It’s good.” 

Neither of them have much to say over dinner, falling into a companionable, if slightly awkward silence. Adalyn yawns and stretches when she’s finished, before glancing around. “I might wash up and head to bed soon. Unless there’s something else for me to do?” 

Slate stands. “Right. Your tub is behind those screens. I keep water on the balcony. Would you like me to heat some up for you?” 

Adalyn shakes her head before filling a kettle. “I don’t mind.”  

When she finishes readying herself for bed she hesitates before taking a seat on the fourposter. She glances over to where Slate sits at his desk, pouring over some blueprints. 

“Is there a side you prefer?” 

He waves her off, not bothering to look up. “I’ll take the chaise, don’t worry about it.” 

She frowns. “It’s your bed. If you don’t want to share, I can always use the chaise.” 

“No. You’re... a guest in my quarters. I insist.” 

Adalyn looks away, ignoring the sting of rejection and self consciousness that prickles at her. “If you’re sure.” 

She settles in for the night, facing away from Slate and the fire. The bed is certainly big enough for the both of them. They could stretch out arms and barely brush fingers.  

Emotions start to bubble up. Swirls of rejection, relief, confusion. She’d assumed he’d want to share the bed. Perhaps she’d been presumptuous.  

In an effort to push the upset down she considers the facts. That two days prior, during the third trial, Slate had been visibly aroused. Could that have been a misunderstanding? Was his want situational? 

Then there was the ‘almost kiss’. Gods, she’d managed to go days without thinking about it. The way he’d flushed when he told her he’d be happy to have her as a wife. His shock when she’d touched him, asked him to kiss her. His hands on her waist. In her hair. His breath on her skin. 

She presses her face into the pillow and lets out a long breath. There’s no use dwelling on it. Not right now anyway. 

There’d been little touches over the past month too. Had she overestimated their significance?  

Gods, maybe Slate was just shy. Perhaps she could ask Rin about it. 

Adalyn takes another deep breath. Bids herself not to think any further of the matter. It’s been a busy week. Tomorrow she’ll have time to herself. She deserves a good and long rest.  

Naturally, she lies awake, late into the night. 

---

Next

[lowcosmic]

This time I will organize my ideas to make it easier for you!

· · ─────────── ·𖥸· ─────────── · ·

Shuichi x amab reader! (or a gn reader, I don't care much) The reader: The ultimate pastry chef!

I can imagine a reader being in love with Shuichi. Luckily (or unluckily), they are in the same class and can see Shuichi every day. However, there's a catch – they rarely engage in conversation, except for group projects or simple requests like, "Can I borrow a pen?" Despite harboring feelings for Shuichi, expressing themselves proves challenging.

As a result, the reader maintains a neutral expression, almost devoid of emotions, appearing disinterested in life. It's hard to believe that someone seemingly serious or even indifferent is the ultimate pastry chef!

Despite his dark Prussian blue hair, emo attire, and introverted personality, this mysterious guy appears calm and even polite. However, he harbors insecurities about his own talent.

When hearing about the "Ultimate Detective," one might expect a completely serious person, but that's not necessarily the case.

How did he end up falling for a detective? They are entirely different yet strangely similar in personalities. Maybe one reason he began to like Shuichi is the desire to crush his cheeks every time they turn a subtle shade of blush. It's so hard not to fall for him.

Now, he questions entirely why he even started liking Shuichi, out of all the guys or girls. Why Shuichi?

It was a complete mess, but fortunately, his unfriendly expression gave away none of his thoughts in the slightest.

· · ─────────── ·𖥸· ─────────── · ·

Oh God, he was regretting the mess he made... Now, he completely doubted his abilities as the ultimate pastry chef. He had been thinking about Shuichi and his subtle smiles, especially when with that Kaede Akamatsu. Silly thoughts crossed his mind, wondering if Shuichi would smile more while eating a dessert. Does Shuichi even like cakes? Now, he was agonizing over that uncertainty.

He had baked a yogurt and purple plum cake, just out of the oven, sitting there in front of him... waiting to be tasted. God, he wanted to die at that moment. He didn't even know if Shuichi would like it. Wait... What if Shuichi is allergic to purple plums?!

· · ─────────── ·𖥸· ─────────── · ·

After enduring a solid 15 minutes of a mental breakdown, contemplating hanging himself, seriously considering smashing that cake because maybe Shuichi is allergic, even though he doesn't know it, and then suffering from embarrassment just thinking about how to deliver it to Shuichi, he decided he definitely wouldn't hand it directly to Shuichi in person. That would be a total horror and embarrassment he couldn't bear.

Absolutely, he wouldn't deliver it directly to Shuichi in person. That would be a total horror and embarrassment he couldn't bear.

· · ─────────── ·𖥸· ─────────── · ·

Early in the morning, not a soul rolling through the halls, yet he could feel his heart pounding in every moment. Was it embarrassment, fear, or anxiety? Whatever he was feeling, it was intense, maybe a mix of excitement and discomfort.

Before he knew it, he entered the classroom, which was empty. Carefully placing his backpack on a random desk, he pulled out a topper with the cake he had made. It was wrapped in a Celadon Green velvet cloth with white line patterns. He gently left it on Shuichi's desk, knowing someone would arrive soon. After placing the cake, he immediately left the classroom and fled to the bathrooms, locking himself in until the time when students would start arriving. This way, he could blend in with the crowd, and no one would suspect it was him!

He left the bathroom, making it seem like he had only gone out of necessity, and returned to the classroom just as Shuichi's desk was surrounded by a few people, with Shuichi sitting in his place and the topper he had left in front of him.

He had been utterly meticulous, knowing full well he was leaving it for Shuichi, the ultimate detective. He didn't want anyone to discover that he had done it, so he entered with the same nonchalant demeanor as always.

"Did someone die or what?" He approached with a feigned light curiosity, much like the other three people surrounding Shuichi — Kaede, Kaito, and the grape-haired troublemaker, Kokichi.

[I know lmao, it seems like it's a full-fledged headcanon but I'll leave the rest to you, you don't have to be out of a job]

The thing is, could you then talk about Shuichi's reaction to that? 😻😻

-🦕

. Did this but here’s the request for those wondering

[blub-blub786]

Hi 👋. So, I've decided to write something for @darkficsyouneveraskedfor mini writing challenge. The prompts I've used are

Shovel

Wooly Sweater

Warnings - Minors DNI, Smut, Masturbation (Male and Female), Voyeurism (Without Consent), Stalking, Overall Dark Themes.

Overall just a small drabble about a dark!CaptainAmerica fiction obsessed with the OC.

Enjoy, and please feel free to comment and reply if you want to. It is much appreciated.

Mine to love, Mine to break.

He was running out of time.

Sweat beaded upon the peripheries of his blond locks as his muscles threatened to seize under the sheer pressure of it all. He utilized the primitive shovel betwixt his clenched fist to tear the frozen earth away from its resting place. Personifying the very essence of his being as that of a desecrator; one who stares into silence and screams into its boundless void in a futile endeavor to dilute its potency.

Yet, at this very moment, power was simply a fleeting glimpse of all he lacked. Despising it with every core of his being as he pummelled into the ground with the righteous fervor of a man made of nothing: a facade.

Continuously wrenching the rusted steel through the dirt until it bowed to his force and contributed to the cacophony of rings, screams, and addled breaths that danced around his tumultuous mind. As if they were taunting him, and a man of his stature would not stand to be mocked nor disparaged.

What a paradoxical sight.

The idealistic symbol of America besmeared in soil and a substance so much more viscous and damning. Whilst the serum running through his veins is rendered impotent in the face of his desperation.

The darkness elucidated the hollow delirium that had consumed him whole.

A few weeks prior.

The wind nipped at her skin through the gaps of her woolen sweater as she ambled through the barrage of rain that seemed to be purposely attacking her with all of its might.

Bright, almost jarring against the dull grey of the pavement beneath her hurried step. Violaceous purples and sunny yellows remained incongruous against her forlorn expression. Thread-bear jeans, which were a tad too short for her taller figure allowed the puddles to splash against her ankles and seep into her dilapidated black pumps: soaking her feet and exacerbating her misery.

Years of toiling over her work merely to be overlooked and underpaid had marred her once bright smiles with hints of fatigue and lines around her amber eyes.

With a heavy heart, she unlocks the door to her flat building and lumbers up the stairs that substitute the lift that had not worked since she had taken residence.

Entering her lodgings with a sigh she places her keys onto the hook and placed her sole pair of shoes in their designated place by the door. Mentally preparing herself for another evening of monotonous preparation for yet another day of underappreciated exertion.

Settling into her bed after eating her leftover spaghetti and attempting to douse her struggles with the limited hot water in her shower was a feat within itself. Endeavoring to find respite between her thin white sheets as sleep continued to evade her.

Her mind rustled with thoughts of the trials and tribulations that faced her. She needed a distraction.

Rummaging through her small bedside drawer she found her savior: a small pink vibrator.

Maybe she should take some time for herself? Surely, she has earned it.

Taking her smartphone off of its second-hand charging cable she searched for some porn to watch. After a few minutes of absentminded scrolling, she found the perfect video. One of a woman bound to a bed as a man pounds into her while she lewdly whimpers and moans into the underwear stuffed in her mouth.

Leaning her phone against her headboard and turning to lie on her plush midriff. She selects the video and shoves the vibrator under her trousers. Suddenly too desperate for any foreplay, she presses it against her clit and moans at the sensation.

The jolting pleasure as she ground her clit into the vibrator with ever-increasing desperation. Imagining herself as the woman in the video, with arms bound so that she could do nothing but take his thick cock with squealing moans as she tasted her wetness through her panties.

Releasing her whimpers as she toyed with the wetness seeping out of her desperate little hole. Begging into the empty air for release as her thrusts increased, making the bed tremor.

Turning the volume up to hear the man dirty talking to the woman as her tits bounced with every rapid thrust, with no care for her thin walls as she obsessed over her pleasure.

She was so close, her brunette hair dragging against her face as she chased her climax. The coil tightened as her pussy grew wetter and wetter.

Suddenly, it burst within her and she opened her mouth in a silent scream as her overstimulated clit continued to glide over her soaked vibrator. Riding it out until it became far too much to bear.

Breathing deeply as she attempted to digest the orgasm she had just given herself she turned off the video and vibrator: suddenly embarrassed at how deafening it was. However, the obscene amount of slickness between her legs was undeniable - she had squirted.

Removing the soaked vibrator from between her legs she began licking her slick from the device, silently worshipping it for the pleasure it had given her. She felt no need to clean up the mess between her legs that had leaked onto her bed sheets. For now, she was content with reveling in it and occasionally reaching down with her two fingers and tasting it.

She had experienced the best orgasm of her life. So, did he.

Watching her through the cameras he had covertly installed in her minuscule home, he had seen it all. Recognizing just how much of a slut he had desired for himself and how satisfying it would be to quell her need in the name of his own.

For that pulsating cunt to be wrapped around his cock as she came. He pumped his cock into his clenched fist as he moaned her name, using his preccum to lubricate the movement.

The moment he came, he realized the true extent of his obsession. Which ranged from premeditated chance encounters in supermarkets to following her home under the cover of shadow. She belonged to him.

After such sacrifices for his country, and for the world he was owed this minute gift. A pussy to warm his cock at night, and as far as he was concerned she already belonged to him.

The last time he had entered her apartment her sweater had been laying on her bed. He had scrutinized it and inhaled her aroma lingering in the cloth. Fuelling the blaze of his addiction to her.

He wanted to love her. He wanted to own her. He wanted to break her.

To him, it was all the same.

Her grins as well as her anguish belonged to him, and if anyone dictated otherwise her smiles and screams would stop altogether.

[projectcaramel]

Anger Management (1) - Obey Me! Satan

“LUCIFER!!!” Satan roared, and I glanced up as the high-strung male, already in demon form, pounded across the hall to Lucifer’s office, and I sighed at the sight. This was the third time this week already that he’d lost his temper. 

“Satan,” I called softly, and although my voice was quiet, I could tell he had heard me plenty well. “What did he do this time?” 

“He won’t give my damn book back!” he snapped. “Lucifer! Open the door!” Satan kicked the door, and a deep blue magic circle crawled across the wood, repelling the demon’s foot before it made contact. 

“I seem to recall that he confiscated it from you for this very reason,” I replied, folding my needles, and Satan fully turned towards me instead. 

“Hah?” 

“Two days ago, I believe he said he would return it to you if you would stop damaging the manor.” Satan advanced on me, his rage flickering hotly in his eyes, although I did not move from my spot as I looked up at them. 

“Siding with him, huh? Of course you would,” he spat. “You just do whatever he tells you like the suck-up you are.”

“I am not Lucifer’s servant, Satan,” I sighed. “And he does not expect that of me either. I take over some of the housework, and that is all. I do not mind bringing him, nor any one of you a cup of tea now and then. If you would like me to do a favor for you, then ask.”

For a very long moment, Satan seemed to be debating between refuting my words and properly taking them in, and in the process, the demon had started to calm down. Nevertheless, he did not say another word to me and instead briskly walked away. 

...

Satan: Hey, Irene.

Me: Yes?

Satan: I need a favor. Beel ate all the lichter snakes and marina feet I was going to use for dinner, and I’m trying to restrain him now. Can you get some more food? 

Me: Of course. 

Satan: Thank you; keep me posted.

“Lichter snakes...” I mumbled, even as I peered through the unfamiliar shelves of food, some of the labels only written in the demonic common tongue rather than English. I admit I wasn’t entirely sure how I was going to find the food when I didn’t have an inkling of where it was. 

“Hm? Irene?” I turned to find Lucifer and Diavolo walking together, the former of whom was currently carrying a small bag of coffee beans. “What brought you here? I can’t imagine Mammon showed this place to you during your tour of the Devildom.” 

“Satan said he needed more ingredients for tonight’s dinner, since Beel ate them. I managed to find this place with a little bit of asking around, but I’m afraid I overestimated the demographics of this shop.” I gestured at the several different kinds of demons roaming the grocery, many of them nowhere close to human. “You wouldn’t happen to know where the lichter snakes are, would you?” 

Lucifer sighed. 

“Really now, I can’t believe he sent you on such a complicated errand... He should know those are a specialty item that can’t be found just anywhere...” 

“I’ll show you,” Diavolo replied happily. 

“You don’t need to go that far,” I only half-protested as I smiled at the redhead who had already begun to beckon me after him. 

“Consider it my apology for being unable to provide translations for you,” he replied, even as he gestured at the snakes. “Is there anything else you were looking for?” 

“Marina feet,” I replied, and Diavolo gave a glance to Lucifer. 

“Hm... I think I’ll have to ask the shopkeeper about those. Shipments have been stalled lately, but they might be in stock. I’ll be right back.” With that, Diavolo disappeared around a shelf, leaving me alone with Lucifer. 

“Lucifer, if you wouldn’t mind my asking, is there a reason that Satan is perpetually angry with you?” I asked after a moment, and the raven-haired male glanced at me. 

“Well, I’m not sure if I understand it myself,” Lucifer replied, even as he picked up a jar of what appeared to be eyeballs that moved of their own volition. I desperately hoped he wasn’t planning on eating them. “But... if I had to guess, it’s because he lives in my shadow much more than the rest of my brothers.”

“What do you mean by that...?” I asked, but Lucifer’s response was interrupted by Diavolo returning with the ingredient I’d needed, leaving me wondering about the exchange for the rest of the day. 

...

“Hey, Irene, thanks for today,” Satan told me after dinner, and I inclined my head. “I owe you one.” I couldn’t help the smile that touched my lips as he said that.  

“Perhaps I will collect on that favor sometime then,” I replied. “I might even have you buy me pads.” At Satan’s blank stare, I added, “I was teasing. But I will keep it in mind.” I was turning away when Satan beckoned me again. 

“Um, also... I wanted to say... sorry for snapping at you the other day. Everyone knows how you are.” 

“Thank you,” I replied, dipping my head. “I’m glad you can realize your mistakes.” 

“I still think you suck up to Lucifer too much,” he added, annoyed. “Seriously, make him get his own tea. You can say no to a few more of his requests, you know.” 

“I can,” I replied after a moment. “But why? I am not particularly inconvenienced, and I do not see a problem with helping someone when they ask.” I chuckled slightly. “Particularly when the person in question gives me Grim to buy Arachia yarn.”

“He’s paying you for this?” 

“When I ask.” 

“You said Arachia yarn?” Satan seemed like he was almost at a loss when I nodded my head before he grinned. “Well, maybe you’re not just a suck-up after all.” Satan took my hand in his and shook it twice. I think he was happy because Arachia yarn was notorious for its cost, although Lucifer didn’t mind giving the money for it, saying it was “a piddling sum, compared to Mammon’s bills”. 

As for what the yarn was being used for, I was actually making little items for each of the brothers to give to them on their birthdays—and Satan was up first. I was planning on giving him a bookmark, though I wasn’t quite sure what to embellish it with. I’d rather not give him something so general as just putting his name on it. That, and doing that would be too easy. The gifts were really just an excuse for me to indulge in my hobby. 

Surely, there was something special I could put on it?

Next >>

[kiruamon]

Teacher-AU Part 2!

We are slowly approaching the core of the AU!

Yay!:D

First, some more general facts again:

As a teacher Oz usually wears a tattered cloak, tidy pants, a simple shirt and mostly sturdy shoes, but sometimes sandals, too

As one of his students suggests that he should dress more modernly, he orders a few new things from his current paycheck

For orders Oz mostly uses the school computers and has the packages delivered to the school grounds

His first order includes a yellow sleeveless vest, white shirts and, for old times' sake, a yellow cardigan that matches his former size so he doesn't wear the cardigan in front of his students

Oz tends to hide his face with the hood of his cloak when he gets embarrassed

At the beginning of each school year, he keeps his phobias hidden from the new classes

They help him to keep an eye on the class when his back is turned or when he otherwise faces away from the class

This way it is hardly possible to cheat or make trouble without being caught by him

He doesn't mind if someone sleeps during his lessons as long as it doesn't disturb anyone

Once his phobias become known, he shows them more directly and lets them help him in class. The little guys regularly hold up miniature classroom materials or re-enact events being described by Oz.

After spending several years teaching school classes, the inevitable day arrives that Oz - with a pounding heart and mixed emotions - had longed for all this time. A new school year begins. A school year that would feel different from all previous ones. Oz is torn between the desire to look for his old friends and to fall around their necks or to hide from them. Of course, he knows they won't recognize him. To them, he would just be a weird stranger. Despite the years of preparation, he is terribly nervous on this first day of school as he stands at the front of the classroom blackboard waiting for it to fill with the students of the new year. And with faces all too familiar to him. Oz decides to stick to his role as teacher for now and try to decide what to do later.

During his lesson, Oz announces to the new students that he has no problem with them sleeping, eating or drinking in his classroom as long as they don't disturb anyone else with it. After a small introduction round, he uses the rest of the hour for a first history lesson.

"Since there are certainly some of you who are already thinking about not coming to my class next time in order to pursue other activities... let's use the favor of the hour while you are all still present to teach you something!" Instead of choosing one of the dry topics that bores every high school student to death, he had already decided some time ago to start with the great war of the houses, which had taken place 5000 years ago, in the new era. Thankfully, his former acting skills from the theater club were not too rusty yet, so that he could use them to perform at the highest level of narration. Instead of a boring lecture, it was much more like an exciting story, which Oz gave to his students. He inserted important and above all interesting quotations and connected facts with easy-to-remember incidents by describing them in an exciting and pictorial way. Oz kept his explanations simple without leaving out deeper background factors for those students who might want to go into more detail. Just then, he reached the climax of his lecture. The upcoming final duel of the two remaining generals, who faced each other with their blades in the all-important battle, when he fell silent and the ringing of the school bell sounded. "Oh, it looks like you've made it for today. Well then, please don't forget to start your break on time!" With a wide and slightly cheeky grin, which was reflected in his eyes under his hood, Oz grabbed his teaching materials and left the room first in line. Only to find as quickly as possible a quiet place where he could calm his nerves a little. They were there. They were there! Tightly squeezed between two shelves in the storage room, he held his hands in front of his mouthless face. Vicky sitting there excitedly anticipating the upcoming lesson, Liam typing away on his cell phone, sure to send some snarky post, and Miranda with her serfs taking notes for her from class. Oz felt like he was being overwhelmed by his own emotions. Joy, sadness, despair, relief, frustration, happiness, helplessness, pain. It was pure chaos. He had hardly dared to look at them directly. It seemed like a miracle to him that he - probably thanks to his routine of several years - had somehow managed to hold his lesson as usual. But now he felt drained and so, so confused. And yet, one particular thought kept popping into Oz's head louder than any other. They were alive. They were alive and well. Tears of relief streamed down his face. He could truly see them again. Hear their voices. Talk to them.

As the week progresses, Oz sees more and more familiar faces in his lessons, in the hallways and on the school campus. Every time he sees them, he is torn between disbelief that his long-awaited wish has come true, but also the crushing feeling that he can't just simply entrust himself to one of his old friends. He doesn't want to scare them off or to be seen as crazy. So he holds back, as difficult as it is for him, sticking to his current role as a teacher and hoping that maybe by doing so he can first build up trust before trying to tell anyone about what he has been through.

Little fun fact along the way.

Oz gets along quite well with Coach, even if he doesn't always approve of his somewhat over-committed and dangerous training methods. But he's glad to have the open-hearted gym teacher around, with whom he can at least chat about trivial things. Sometimes Coach invites him for a training session, which Oz doesn't always accept, yet sometimes he does. After all, a little variety in his limited daily routine can't hurt that much, right? (Oz regularly regrets this decision after the joint training session.)

So, this time it was a bit shorter, but don't worry there are still a lot of details I want to share about this AU!:D

[bellafragolina]

Hello, dude who keeps having dreams about Ingo here! I did end up writing a fic about it. It really got away from me lol it was originally supposed to be like 2 pages and it ended up being 10. It was also originally going to be an Ingo x reader, but about a quarter of the way through I realized I had to make an OC to pair him with. I've never made an OC before but now I have. Hope you don't mind a long read! (Feel free to send me any constructive feedback/opinions you have on it, if you wish!)

CHAPTER 1: The Change

Ingo's day started peacefully enough. He woke up to the sun beaming warmth on his face and, as he opened his eyes, on the face of his slumbering beloved. His lips curled gently up at their edges and he leaned forward to press a kiss unto his love's forehead and whispered rousing words. He watched with soft eyes as Garnet yawned and stretched away the stillness of sleep. A few stolen moments of good morning wishes and chaste kisses were spent before the domestic routine of preparing for departure was undertaken. Today, rather than adorn himself with his formal work attire, Ingo dressed in his casual clothing as a testament to his ability to spend the day at home. His beloved was required to work, but Ingo had taken the day off to prepare for a date night in; for today was their wedding anniversary. Ingo kissed Garnet and wished him well as he departed. Ingo wasted little time, tying on his train-decorated apron (a gift from his beloved!) and preparing to cook lovely things for them to eat upon their return. He felt a rush of pride at his ability to make their shared house a home. At that moment, everything felt so right.

At the next moment, everything felt so wrong. Ingo froze in place, his blood running cold. Something was wrong with him; it wasn't pain, not at first, just a deep sense of discomfort and dread—not merely mental, but also physical in nature. A beat went by, Ingo's mind rushing a mile a minute as he attempted to understand what he was feeling and whether or not the feeling would pass. Another beat. Ingo crumpled to his knees as a wave of agony overcame him. He let out a cry as wave after wave of pain rocked his form. He turned, reaching out for his phone that he left on the counter behind him so that he might call for aid. Ingo gasped through a changing mouth as he saw with changing eyes that his arm was no longer human in shape. Claws were erupting from his fingernails and black scales were piercing outward from his skin and laying down in rows. Wings burst out from his shoulders. He shrieked at the top of his lungs, a sound that turned into an inhuman howl as his abrupt transformation continued. Tears hit the kitchen floor as his body warped and elongated; bones cracking and shifting, Ingo transformed into a Zekrom. And then blacked out. Garnet had no reason to think that anything was amiss upon his arrival. The house stood in one piece and nothing seemed any different than other days. He announced his arrival home, taking off his coat. The silence was the first indicator of trouble. Ingo always greeted him at the door on his days off. He called his name, more curious than concerned. More silence. His panic began in earnest. Was Ingo ill? He rushed into the kitchen and gasped with horror at the sight that was there to meet him. Blood, copious amounts of it, painted the floor. In the center of the gruesome flood lay a Zekrom, sound asleep. Garnet was a soft-spoken soul by nature, but the scream that ripped from his lips could have rivaled Ingo's own. Ingo leapt a good three feet in the air, heart pounding, as he was awoken from his ill-begotten slumber. In his terror, his newly-reformed feet slipped on his own blood and he crashed into a cabinet. Pain, fear, and disorientation drove him from the room, rushing blindly for cover. He ended up in his closet, rapidly trying to reorient himself to his new reality. As his heart ceased pounding in his ears, he could hear the agonized cries of his husband. His fear conquered by concern for his spouse, he ventured back out from his temporary den. Ingo tried to call out his beloved's name, but the word could not be formed from his jaws—coming out as a low growl. As he poked his head into the kitchen, he was greeted with a scream and plate thrown at his head. He winced, but his hard scales protected him from the damage such a blow would have done to his human form. He inched forward, growling once more as he tried to call out to his beloved. He tried to scramble to his feet, only to slip on Ingo's still-wet blood. His appearance hurt Ingo to the core; covered in his blood, sobbing wildly, eyes blown wide with terror. He ceased his approach, unsure of what to do. Every instinct in him was screaming for him to comfort and protect his mate, but how was he to do that when he was the very thing putting him in such a state? In this moment of impasse, Ingo and his partner regarded one another. In a heartbeat, Garnet's terror turned to rage. He lunged at the creature before him, grasping his jaws closed and screaming into his face, “What have you done to my Ingo?!” Ingo forced himself not to reel back and struggle out of his spouse's grip, instead gazing deeply into their eyes; he mentally begged him to somehow recognize him. Garnet released Ingo's jaws and went on with his screams, “If you killed Ingo, you're going to have to kill me, too!” In response to the anguished tears of his beloved, Ingo's own tears began to fall as the insanity of the situation truly caught up with him. Garnet was not expecting the low whine and the tears that erupted from the creature's eyes, the sudden change in demeanor giving him pause. Just before, the creature had been approaching aggressively and growling. Now he seemed disturbed somehow. The creature crouched down, making himself as small as possible and laid his head in Garnet's lap. Adding deep confusion onto his pain, fear, sorrow, and rage, Garnet could take no more and blacked out in the puddle of his beloved's blood. Garnet did not expect to wake up in his bed; he did not expect to wake up at all, what with the killer dragon loose in their house. But wake up he did, albeit with a pounding headache, throat shredded from screaming, and dried blood caking his skin and clothes. As he blinked his tired eyes, he heard a grunt next to him. He turned his head and his blood ran cold. The dragon-type was in his bed with him! He flew from the bed, crashing against the wall as they sought to increase the distance between them. As the dragon-type clambered out of the bed and began his approach, Garnet held his arms out before him in a defensive stance and squeezed shut his eyes as he awaited the attack that robbed his husband from him. But the attack never came. His eyes peeked open as he felt scales gently bumping against his hand. The dragon was...Nuzzling him? The dragon was bumping his head against his hand, much the way that Ingo would do in his sillier, more intimate moments with him. Tears began to flood his eyes anew as he crumpled to the ground and wailed his husband's name. A soft whine emitted from the dragon's maw as he laid himself across Garnet's lap. Tears met scales as Garnet's confusion kept him from recoiling. “Why have you done this?” He cried, as the dragon's claws oh-so-gently wiped away the tears. In that moment, their eyes truly met for the first time since the transformation. Garnet stared into the dragon's alabaster eyes. “...No. No way. Ingo?” Ingo wriggled his newfound body with joy as their partner made the connection. “Yes!” He wanted to shout, “Yes, it's me! I'm here, my love!” But what came out were inhuman howls that made his partner flinch. Ingo quickly shut his jagged mouth and opted to express his joy nonverbally by nuzzling his chest. He looked up into his partners eyes and was dismayed to find more tears instead of matching joy. “What happened?” He rasped with his worn out voice. Ingo desperately wished to provide answers, but he had none. All he had was this moment with his husband, now that he'd finally managed to calm him down. His tears joined Garnet's own. The tears of both lovers eventually stemmed, and Garnet shakily got to his feet. Okay, his husband was a Zekrom now. Neither seemed to know why or how it had happened, so it was worth taking one step at a time. First, Garnet took to cleaning up the blood in their kitchen, as well as the bloody footprints and clawprints scattered around the house. Then he turned to Ingo. “Okay...Okay, stay here. I'm going to take a bath. Please don't run away, I'm scared of what'll happen if anyone sees you. They might try to catch you, or you might get lost, or a Pokemon could try to fight you, or...I'm rambling, okay. Just...Stay here with me.” Ingo nodded enthusiastically. He'd never run away and leave his beloved alone, Zekrom or no. Ingo sat on the floor by the bathtub, watching with appreciative eyes as his beloved scrubbed away the blood from his skin. After, he crawled into the water at his lover's request and let out a happy grunt as Garnet scrubbed his scales clean. He still flinched at the noises Ingo made, but less so than before. After drying off, Garnet collapsed on the couch and sighed deeply. Ingo joined him, kneeling in front of him as he was unable to fit on the couch. It was well after dark at this point, and Garnet's stomach growled harshly. He smiled sheepishly and whipped out his phone to put in an order for delivery. “I'm sorry, I'd been expecting to eat the dinner you planned, but you were ah...Preoccupied, I see. Do you think you can eat our favorite?” He asked, unsure of how to feed their beloved in this form. Ingo shrugged his scaly shoulders. Garnet chuckled at his attempts at human-like gestures in a reptilian body. Ingo bared his fangs in an attempt to smile; his heart warmed at partner's first smile at him since transforming. Garnet winced at seeing all his sharp fangs, but quickly recovered. “Surely dragon-types can eat pizza, right?” Ingo shrugged again. He would try, if it would make his partner happy. All he cared about was that he was calming down now that he knew his identity. One devoured pizza and a confirmed hypothesis later, Ingo and his partner curled up in bed together. Garnet had changed out the bloody sheets and tucked the two of them in under the blanket. Ingo just barely fit, his tail hanging off the bed. Hands gently stroked scales. “Ingo, my love,” whispered Garnet. “What are we going to tell Emmet? And Elesa? And your coworkers?” Ingo whined, a note that broke Garnet's heart to hear. “Don't worry, dearest, I'll call them tomorrow and tell them that you're sick. We'll figure something out.” Garnet said, pressing a gentle kiss to Ingo's snout. “I love you,” He whispered before falling asleep. Ingo followed suit, thoroughly exhausted. His last waking thought was him hoping he'd wake up normal the next day. CHAPTER 2: The Complication Ingo had no such luck. His eyes opened as the sun beamed warmth unto him and his beloved. In his sleepiness, he moved to press a kiss to his partner's face. Instead, he bonked him with his snout. “Uh, bwuh, huh?” Garnet mumbled as he sat up. In an unguarded moment, Ingo could see the brief panic cross his face, followed by disappointment to see that he hadn't changed back, then covered up with an attempt at normalcy. “Oh. Good morning, Ingo,” He mumbled as he stretched. Despite the traumatic events of the day before, Ingo still felt his heart warmed by the sight of his beloved. Ingo paced the room nervously as Garnet called Gear Station to alert them that Ingo had fallen ill and would not be able to make it in to work for the next couple of days. His nerves only increased as Garnet then called Emmet personally to let him know. And increased further when Garnet didn't get an answer. “Huh, odd. He usually answers. Let me call Elesa,” he murmured. He dialed their mutual friend's number, and held the phone away from his ear when her voice shrieked over the line. “Garnet! You have to help me, something's wrong with Emmet!” Ingo froze upon hearing the panic in Elesa's voice. He ran to Garnet's side, clinging to his arm as he attempted to calm Elesa down enough to get information out of her. “What's wrong with him? What happened?” Garnet questioned, dread sitting heavy in his stomach. “He didn't show up for work this morning and one of our friends who works there called me and asked me to check up on him, and he...Just get over here, I need your help!” Garnet promised his swift arrival and hung up, getting dressed in a flash. He was just reaching out to grab his coat when he stopped and turned to Ingo. How were they going to get him there without causing a scene? Emmet only lived a few doors down, but the sight of someone walking down the street with a Zekrom would definitely raise questions that would be hard to answer. Before He could think up a plan, Ingo was rushing out the door. Oh well, there goes the element of stealth. He ran after him, praying nobody would see. As they approached the house, he called out to Ingo. “Wait, you're going to freak them out!” Ingo crashed through Emmet's door, ignoring his partner's warning. Elesa, standing near said door, dodged aside as a panicked Zekrom flew past her. She and Garnet watched, jaws agape, as the Zekrom crashed into a Reshiram at the end of the hall. “What?!” Garnet and Elesa shrieked as the two dragons collapsed into a heap on the floor. “I! You! He! What?!” Garnet continued to stammer as Elesa pointed with a shaking hand. “Both of them?!” She cried, confusion plastered over her face as she made the connection between Ingo and the Zekrom before her. She always was a fast thinker. “Yes, the Zekrom is Ingo,” Garnet said. “I take it the Reshiram is Emmet?” Elesa nodded. “How'd you figure that out?” Garnet asked, noting that Elesa was neither in tears nor covered in blood. “At first, I thought Emmet had caught a legendary and was over at Ingo's to brag about it, but then I saw the blood and the weird smile on his face. At first I thought he was baring his fangs and was going to eat me, but then he did Emmet's weird pose and I knew it was him,” Elesa explained. Several strange logical jumps, but at least it wasn't as traumatic for her as it was for him, Garnet thought. For a moment, the two humans watched the two dragon-types examining each other. Emmet still had dried blood staining his white feathers, as he lived alone and had nobody to wash him. He and Ingo wailed and howled, tears raining down as they witnessed what had happened to them both. Garnet took their reunion as time to explain to Elesa what'd happened to Ingo the day before. Several confused questions and non-answers later, the two humans turned to their transformed friends. Th first order of business for Emmet, as with Ingo the day before, was to wash the blood off. Having a Reshiram around was suspicious. Having a Reshiram around who was covered in blood was even more suspicious. Elesa volunteered to help Emmet clean up while Garnet took to wiping away Ingo's tears. “I know, I know,” He whispered soothingly. “We're going to figure this out and get you both turned back. I promise,” He swore, though he knew not how to accomplish that goal. Still, Ingo ceased weeping and nuzzled into his side. Nothing and nobody had ever prepared Garnet for the possibility of his husband turning into a Pokemon but in that moment, he knew for certain that he would do whatever it took to turn him and his brother back again.

CHAPTER 3: The Lead

Garnet and Elesa poured over books of history and legend at the library, secure in the knowledge that Ingo and Emmet were both safely at home, comforting each other while their human companions sought out solutions to their predicament. The two of them called off work to give themselves time to search for answers. Unhappy bosses paled in comparison to the suffering of their loved ones. Little was said for hours until Garnet suddenly jumped to his feet, shouting his excitement and then hushing himself upon receiving a dirty look from a library patron. “Look!” He whispered to Elesa, pointing to a passage in a tome dedicated to legendary Pokemon. The entry regarded a legendary Pokemon called Arceus whom, according to myth, existed before the universe and played some role in its creation. “Such a divine and vast Pokemon would surely have the ability to change a human into a Pokemon and vice versa, right? Or at least hold the answer regarding what did this to Ingo and Emmet?” Garnet murmured. Elesa nodded her agreement, “It's the best lead we've found all afternoon, and I think we should follow it.” The next few hours were spent researching how to find Arceus, with little answers found. So they didn't know how to find Arceus per se, they at least knew what they were looking for. The two humans exited the library with a goal and with hope. “How do you find the unfindable?” Garnet pondered, gazing at his feet as he walked. He stopped in his tracks, a vision appearing before his eyes. In a flash, he glimpsed locks of blonde hair, white wings, and a silhouette of a Pokemon that hurt his eyes if he looked at it for too long. The moment came to an end as Elesa's concerned voice broke him from his reverie. “You okay, Gar?” Elesa prodded at him, using the nickname she'd come up with for him. “Meowth got your tongue?” She continued, earning a chuckle out of him with her ridiculous Pokemon puns. Garnet explained to her what he'd seen. “I'm not really sure what I just saw, but I'm of the mind that trusting your intuition is a good thing. If you see anything like that, let me know.” Elesa nodded and the two continued down the road to home.

Garnet and Elesa returned to his and Ingo's home with the setting of the sun, finding the two dragon-types curled up with one another, their usually gentle snores coming out as sleepy growls. Despite the uncertainty of the situation, Garnet and Elesa couldn't help but smile at one another. “Cute,” Elesa whispered, slowly reaching into her pocket to retrieve her phone for a picture. Garnet was about to warn her that taking their photo might not be the best idea when Ingo, ever the light sleeper, raised his head and blinked sleepily with Emmet following suit. Elesa stuck out her tongue in disappointment and put away her phone. “Have a good nap?” Garnet cooed, rubbing at the scales between Ingo's eyes. Ingo growled his contentment. Emmet bumped his feathery snout against Garnet's side, gazing at him with pleading eyes. Garnet reached out to pet Emmet but no sooner had he brushed his feathers with his fingertips, Ingo began to growl in earnest, pushing his way between the two. Garnet laughed and looked over at Elesa. “Little help?” Elesa laughed and started petting Emmet's feathery snout. As he ran his hands over Ingo's sleek scales, he sighed happily for the first time in a day; despite their horrific transformation, Emmet and Ingo were still fundamentally the same people. Emmet was still an attention hog and Ingo was still dedicated to keeping his little brother in check. They were still in there, waiting to be saved.

CHAPTER 4: The Interlude

The days turned into weeks. For the time being, Emmet returned to his home while Garnet and Elesa returned to their jobs. Nearly all the humans' time not working was spent either researching ways to find Arceus or trying to keep the twins' increasingly curious employees off their trail. The task of convincing the workers at Gear Station that their bosses were sick and that nothing dangerous or suspicious had happened to them grew harder all the time. Garnet wondered how to keep them at bay. It'd be a crying shame for Ingo and Emmet to return to their human forms only to have lost their dream jobs that they hold so dear. Would the depot agents believe him if he told them the truth? He was pulled from his troubled thoughts by Ingo nuzzling at his shoulder. Garnet smiled softly. “Oh, Ingo. You always know when I need to be cheered up. Thank you, my love.” He murmured, pressing his forehead against Ingo's chest. Though Ingo could not speak, he remained as emotionally attuned to his husband as ever. Garnet moved to turn away so that he could resume his research, but he felt a clawed hand gently close around his own. He raised an eyebrow at Ingo and opened his mouth to speak when he was hefted up into his husband's arms. “Oh!” Garnet exclaimed, surprised but not displeased. He tended toward being heavier-set than most, and was unused to being picked up. In his human form, Ingo could barely accomplish it and seldom attempted it. But in his Zekrom form, lifting Garnet was akin to carrying a bunch of grapes. As the surprise wore off, Garnet hooked his arms around Ingo's neck and pressed his lips to his scaly face. “Yes, of course I still love you,” He said, as if reading Ingo's mind. The two had been married long enough to have a bond nearly as strong and communicative as the one between Ingo and Emmet. Ingo seemed to appreciate Garnet's words, but appeared to have additional plans. As Ingo began making his way toward their shared bedroom, Garnet understood what was happening. Ingo laid him down on their bed, as gently as one would lay down a sleeping child and stood before his husband. A silent moment passed until Garnet spoke. “Ingo. You know I love you, no matter what form you're in. But are you sure you want to do this? I don't want to make things uncomfortable for you. Hell, I'm not even sure how this is going to work. But if you're really determined...” He trailed off, allowing Ingo to make the choice about what happened next.

Ingo took a step forward, gently tugging at the waist of Garnet's jeans. Garnet hummed and began to undress, pausing to re-assess Ingo's consent with every article he removed until he laid naked before him. He couldn't remember the number of times they had been intimate, but the unfortunate condition Ingo found himself in made the situation awkward for them both. Ingo knelt in front of his beloved and experimentally stuck out his draconic tongue. Garnet let out a yelp as he was reminded of Zekrom's secondary typing: Electric. He received a minor static shock to his clit as Ingo's tongue made contact. Ingo jerked back, whining apologetically. Garnet laughed and reached down to stroke at Ingo's scales. “It's okay, try again.” At the encouragement, Ingo again lapped gingerly at Garnet's increasingly swollen t-cock. No electricity this time. Garnet breathed a sigh of relief and pleasure, prompting his partner to continue. It felt very different than their usual lovemaking, as would be expected. Still, even with the increased size and slightly grittier texture compared to the human tongue, Garnet found himself clinging to the protrusion at the back of Ingo's head and cried out his name.

Ingo was as tenacious in eating his husband out as ever, wanting to overstimulate him to the point of begging before he even thought about fucking him. In the back of Garnet's mind was the thought “Thank goodness that hasn't changed,” while in the front of his mind was the thought “More, more, more!” Those words and more tumbled from his lips as Ingo relentlessly worked him up. Any reservations Garnet had about the situation flew out the window as he came hard against Ingo's tongue.

Several minutes passed as Ingo continued to pleasure his mate with all the focus and dedication of a devoted husband. Garnet was reduced to a babbling, incoherent mess by the time Ingo removed his face from his beloved's slick cunt. Ingo looked down to notice his cock had slid out from inside his body. So that's where that was. He got to his feet and gazed silently down at his love. Spaced out from overstimulation, Garnet took a moment to notice the change. He propped himself up on his elbows and glanced down at Ingo's transformed cock. He nodded. “Yes, please, Ingo. Just be gentle, okay?” As if he needed to even ask. Ingo stepped forward and began sliding his cock to and fro against Garnet's weeping cunt, his head rubbing deliciously against his swollen clit. Garnet let out a sharp gasp and a cry of “Bravo!” that he occasionally borrowed from his partner.

Ingo, encouraged by Garnet's obvious pleasure, continued rutting against him, coating the underside of his cock with his husband's fluids. After a few prolonged moments of this, he gently prodded against Garnet's entrance. Garnet reached out and placed a loving hand on Ingo's face and nodded his consent. Slowly, so slowly, Ingo slid his way in. Garnet gasped once more, feeling like all the air had been pushed from his lungs as Ingo pressed in all the way he could. He was significantly girthier than in his human form, and for a moment Garnet wondered if he could handle it. Ingo stopped once he was in as far as he could go, giving his dearest a moment to adjust. Just as slowly, he slid back—nearly pulling out entirely. He kept up the slow pace as he gradually pushed his way back in.

Garnet dug his nails into Ingo's shoulders, making no dent or mark on his hard scales. In the back of his mind, he mourned not being able to leave the beautiful red marks Ingo so dearly loved having trailed down his shoulders and back. Mostly, though, he was overwhelmed with pleasure. The stretch of Ingo's cock put pressure on his most sensitive bundle of nerves, making him see stars with each thrust. With some difficulty, Garnet managed to form a coherent word with his drooling, gaping jaw. “Faster!” Ingo needed no further encouragement, nearing his own orgasm from the tight fit and the moans of his lover. He gripped his husband's hips with his claws, careful not to grasp too tightly, and began to thrust ever faster. Neither lover lasted long after that, Garnet shrieking out his pleasure as Ingo tilted his head back and roared through their simultaneous orgasms.

The two lay entwined, chests heaving, as their front door was broken down. A whirl of feathers and a worried-sounding howl announced the arrival of Emmet. Oops.

CHAPTER 5: The Clue

Weeks turned into months. Garnet had not had any visions since the first one, nor had anyone else involved in their predicament. As he made his way home from another late night of research, Garnet held a morose frown upon his face to rival Ingo's own. Rather, Ingo's when he was in his proper form. Garnet felt a painful twinge in his chest and tears began sprouting in his eyes. Would he be able to make good on his promise? Would he ever have his beloved human husband back? He bit back a sob as something caught his attention ahead. A man silently walked past him, going in the direction of the library that Garnet had just left. He paused, watching the man depart. His locks of blonde hair bounced gently as he walked. Garnet's eyes widened and he hid behind a tree, continuing to monitor the man's progress. The mysterious stranger entered an alley behind the now-closed library. Garnet tiptoed after him, heart pounding in his chest. If this truly was the man from his vision, then this was the first lead he'd found in months! He peered around the corner of the alley, watching the man's feet just disappear through a window to the library that had been broken prior. This confirmed, at least, that the man was up to something highly suspicious. Garnet paused, waiting for the man to become confident that he hadn't been spotted, then climbed through the window.

A hand on the Pokeballs at his waist, Garnet took step after carefully-calculated step through the dark building. He thanked his lucky stars that the building was new and that the floors did not creak. Still, he had to be especially careful, as the man could be anywhere. Garnet stopped and listened. There! He heard the barely-there sound of a turning page to his right. Garnet's mouth went dry. The man was in the section where he and Elesa had put in so many hours of research. Might he be researching Arceus, too? Garnet crept to the section, and began to hear whispers. He distinctly heard the sound of the man saying “This time for sure. Sinnoh is the answer.” He bit his lip and looked for a place to hide as he heard the sound of a book closing and being slid back onto its' shelf. He shifted back and to the left, hiding next to a staircase as the man's soft footfalls ghosted past him. He waited for a few minutes, then waited for a few minutes more before letting out a sigh of relief and leaving the way he came. He hurried for home.

The next morning, Elesa, Ingo, and Emmet were all informed about the events of the night before. Elesa initially wanted to report the incident to the authorities, but Garnet argued against the idea. “If they find him and throw him in jail, we'll never find out more about him and what he knows!” “That's assuming they even find him,” Elesa interjected. “If you have so little faith in the authorities, why even call them at all?” Garnet rebutted. “...Good point. Anyway, you're sure you heard him say that Sinnoh is the answer?” Elesa said, electing to change the subject. Garnet nodded his head, glancing back at Ingo and Emmet. “Is there any way for us to get there?” He murmured, more to himself than anyone else. Elesa clapped her hands in determination. “There is! I can get out of work for a while, and I can pull some strings with your boss to get you out, too. We'll still have Ingo and Emmet's coworkers upset, but we can deal with that later. Let's do this thing!” Garnet stared at his friend for a moment before his eyes filled with joyous tears. “Thanks, El,” he whispered, gathering her in a tight hug that was quickly joined by two large dragons. CHAPTER 6: The Trip

Elesa, true to her word, leveraged her wealth and fame to get the group out of their obligations for a length of time sufficient to—hopefully—complete their mission. Initially, the idea was to book a flight to Sinnoh; however, that raised the issue of how they were to board a plane with two legendary dragons. Elesa suggested the idea of catching them both in Pokeballs for storage onto the flight, but the vigorous head shaking from Ingo and the way Emmet whined and hid behind his brother very firmly put that idea to rest. Garnet couldn't blame them for not wanting to be put into Pokeballs. It worked well for Pokemon, but how would it effect them? Better not to mess around and find out.

Garnet was contemplating other possibilities when Emmet made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a draconic version of “Aha!” The other three turned to look at him as he flapped his impressive wings and lofted himself into the sky. They then all looked at each other. Simultaneously, Elesa jumped in the air and let out a cry of excitement, Ingo nodded his head sensibly, and Garnet groaned with dread. It seemed they had their solution, despite Garnet's fear of heights. And so, after plotting out a route that would take them to Sinnoh, the humans packed their necessities and strapped them around each dragon's waist. Elesa found herself clinging to Emmet's back while Garnet was held tight in Ingo's arms as they soared high in the skies over Unova. Ingo let out a concerned growl that Garnet barely heard over the wind. He had his face buried in Ingo's chest, his heart pounding out of his own. “I'm fine, just don't drop me or do anything crazy!” He shouted to be heard, trying not to think about how high up he was or how fast he was going. After a few minutes of flight, Garnet dared to take a peek beyond Ingo's chest to the sky around him. Looking up, he felt almost calm as he watched the white clouds drifting slowly by. However, when he turned his gaze further down to look over Ingo's shoulder, his blood ran cold. He saw fluffy white wings first—a Togekiss, the Pokemon from his vision—and then he saw that there was a man being borne upon its back, blonde hair flying wildly in the wind. It was the man from the library, Garnet was sure of it. He shouted out a warning to Ingo, who—after glancing over his shoulder for verification—in turn howled out a warning to Emmet and Elesa. Emmet slowed his flight, turning around to snarl and charge up a fiery attack. Ingo slapped him with his tail and let out a warning snarl of his own. Emmet seemed to hesitate, then let loose his attack higher than his original aim, sending flames shooting near—but not directly at—the man tailing them. The man and his Togekiss dropped down into some clouds and out of sight, but deep down Garnet knew he'd be back. Info and Emmet flew on, faster this time. Garnet didn't know what he wanted, but in his gut he knew the man did not have good intentions. They had to hurry. CHAPTER 7: The Arrival By sunset, they descended unto Sinnoh, orbiting around to land outside Oreburgh City. While they had not found any information in their research on how to summon Arceus, they had learned that Mount Coronet was a deeply holy place and may have some answers for them. Elesa again proved to be the group's lifeline, as not only was she wealthy and famous, but her travels as a model had led to her being at least semi-fluent in many different languages and dialects; as such, she was able to communicate with the Sinnohan locals and procure them a place to spend the night. To sneak Ingo and Emmet in, they came up with a plan. The two dragons would hide among the cliffs behind the inn while Garnet and Elesa would check in. After a few minutes, Garnet would leave again under the pretense of going to the Pokemart for supplies. Instead, he would circle around to pick up Ingo and Emmet and sneak in through the back door while Elesa distracted the security guard by giving him her autograph as thanks for letting them stay on such short notice. Incredibly, the ruse worked like a charm and Garnet and Elesa collapsed on their respective beds with relief. Garnet stared at the ceiling for a few moments, absently running his hand along Ingo's scales as he sat on the floor next to him. Eventually, he spoke. “El, what are we going to do if this doesn't work? Not only are we on a frankly ridiculous adventure for reasons beyond our understanding, but now we have a guy following us for some unknown reason.” “Don't you mean Unown reason?” Elesa teased, winking at her friend. Garnet forced out a chuckle for her sake, despite not feeling it. Silence fell between them. Emmet let out a whine and nuzzled Elesa while Ingo mirrored the act for Garnet. Tears began to fall down Garnet's face, sobs muffled as he turned to bury his head in the scaly crook of Ingo's neck. Elesa was the first to break the silence that was otherwise peppered by sobs. “I don't know. I really don't. All I know is that I love my friends. Whether that means they stay as dragons forever or not, I'll always love them.” Another pause. “But I also think it's too early to give up. Tomorrow is a new day and another chance to do our best. Get some rest, you three.” With that, the evening routines of tooth brushing and clothes-changing were commenced and the foursome fell into sound sleep—though Ingo slept with one protective eye open in case that man showed up again. CHAPTER 8: The Temple

Before dawn the next day, Elesa and Garnet repeated the trick that allowed them to sneak Ingo and Emmet in so that they could sneak the two dragon types back out. Double-checking their supplies and their map of Mount Coronet, they departed onto their next destination. Emmet began to flap his wings to fly, but Garnet jumped forward and grabbed him by the arm. “No, not yet. Who knows if that man is still searching the skies? We should walk as far as we can. We're already obvious enough, no need to make it worse.” Ingo nodded his agreement. Emmet snorted a smoky sigh and began walking with Elesa by his side. Garnet fell into step alongside Ingo, a reassuring hand resting on his beloved's arm. Silence fell as the four hiked up the trail to the mountain.

It wasn't until they reached the base of the mountain that Ingo stopped and let out a low growl. The other three party members stopped and turned to look at him. Ingo pointed down the trail where, for the briefest moment, a flash of blonde hair could be seen ducking behind a boulder. Emmet let out a roar, followed by an even more deafening roar from Ingo. Emmet took two steps down the trail, only to be held back by Ingo, who shook his head. Again, Emmet grumbled but obeyed his older twin. Suddenly, Ingo hefted Garnet into his arms while Emmet nudged Elesa onto his back. They had already been spotted, and speed was of the essence. They flew up the mountain. The foursome made a landing at the temple on the peak of Mount Coronet, snow gusting up from the dragons' feet as they set down. The air was still. “No,” thought Garnet. “Not just still, oppressive.” He felt his body begin to tremble, and not just from the cold. It felt like the world was holding its breath and demanding he held his, too. Garnet glanced at his companions, wondering if they felt the same. None of them were moving, so they must be struggling with the same sensation they were. He went to touch Ingo's shoulder for reassurance. Ingo didn't react. He didn't move at all. “...Ingo?” Garnet managed to utter from between chattering teeth. No response. He turned around, checking on Emmet and Elesa as well. They were all frozen in place. A cry of fear was about to fall from Garnet's lips when he was suddenly blinded by a bright light. He covered his eyes with his arm, but the light was so bright he could see it behind his eyelids. It was brighter than the sun. It was brighter than anything he'd ever seen. Just when he worried he'd go permanently blind, the light dimmed enough for him to open his eyes, albeit with a squint. There before him was none other than Arceus itself. Garnet fell to his knees—half out of instinct and half out of reverence. Before him was a Pokemon that possibly created the world and Garnet could only bow to it and hope for grace. He glanced around, only to find that his companions were gone. More than that, the whole world had fallen away. There was only light, darkness, and more light. As Garnet tried to find the words to say, he heard spoken words echoing inside his head. “I KNOW WHY THOU HAST COME,” boomed a great and irresistible voice. Garnet bowed lower and prayed silently for safety; his and his loved ones'. “LOVE IS WHAT HATH BROUGHT THOU TO ME.” For the first time, Garnet took a good long look at the divinity before him. He could not see details given the bright light shining from behind it, but he could see it's sharp silhouette. Tears began to fall from his eyes, a product of fear and joy in equal measure. “Please!” Garnet cried, though his voice sounded so weak and watery compared to the sheer strength of the voice in his head. “Return Ingo and Emmet to their human forms!” He wished to say more, to explain why his mission was so important as to earn the attention of a god, but his voice failed him. He heard the voice inside his head once more. “YOU SHALT HAVE YOUR WISH GRANTED. THOUGH MINE REASONING CAN NEVER FULLY BE EXPLAINED, SUFFICE IT TO SAY THAT THE TRANSFORMATION OF YONDER MEN HATH BEEN WROUGHT FOR A PURPOSE TRUE. LINKED TO THE LEGENDS OF TRUTH AND WILL, THINE COMPANIONS ARE. VERILY DID I BRING FORTH THEIR DORMANT NATURES FOR A TIME. NOW THAT TIME HATH PASSED. THINE PLIGHT HATH BROUGHT TO BIRTH THE DOWNFALL OF A VILLAIN WHOSE MACHINATIONS WERE NEVER MEANT TO COME TO FRUITION IN THIS ITERATION OF SPACE AND TIME.” Garnet's vision went blank with another vision, clearly given unto him by Arceus. He saw the man from the library, frozen in place several meters behind Garnet and his party, blade in one hand and Pokeball in the other. A gasp of terror fell from Garnet's lips. “BE THOU NOT AFRAID, MY CHILD,” the voice reverberated in his head once more. “HE CANNOT HARM YOU THIS TIME. ALL SHALL BE WELL FOR THIS VERSION OF YOU. RETURN YE HOME WITH YOUR HUMAN COMPANIONS IN TOW.” With that, everything went dark. CHAPTER 9: The Return

Garnet's day started mysteriously enough. The mystery was that it, well, started. Garnet cracked his eyes open, blinking blearily against the light of the sun hitting his face. He gasped and sat up in bed. He was alive! He heard a sleepy groan next to him and looked down. “Ingo!” He cried out in delight, laying his grateful eyes on his beloved's human form curled up next to him. Alabaster eyes snapped open as Garnet pulled his mate into a tight embrace. Tears of joy spilled from eyes and pronouncements of affection fell from lips. Kisses were shared and love was made. After the fading of the afterglow, phone calls to companions were made and stories were shared. In that moment, everything felt right.

[randersenblog]

#zeke,m.d.

Dr. Ezekiel “Zeke” Hamilton prided himself on his ability to read patients. The downcast eyes and the restless hands always gave away patients who weren’t taking their meds or following their diets. Thus it was quite a shock when he lost everything after his financial adviser and best friend looked him squarely in the eyes with quiet hands and told him his retirement was safe and sound. His ex-pal Jimbo was someplace warm and sunny spending Zeke”s embezzled retirement money with Zeke’s ex wife and Zeke’s ex-dog. Dammit, I liked that dog, thought Zeke. Four years, four months and four days of eating, drinking and fishing were over. Zeke Hamilton M.D. was returning to the world of medicine. 

The good news was that he still had a medical license. They last for ten years and he had just re-upped a year before his retirement.The bad news was that he did not have a job. He partly or mostly retired because the medical practice he started was bought out by the local hospital chain. After what I said there’s no way even those guys would take me back he thought. 

Zeke looked in the mirror as he primped and prepped for his appointment with the physician placement company. Not bad for 61, he thought. Oprah said 60 is the new 40 and hell Oprah is right about everything. A few gray hairs and a few extra pounds but I’ve still got it. Who wouldn’t want to hire a great looking, intelligent and humble guy like me? He dragged himself away from the mirror and headed off to his interview. 

Being a locum tenens doc always sound cool and faintly exotic. In literal terms a locum tenens “held the place” of a full time worker on leave. In practical terms one locum tenens replaced another in a revolving door fashion in places that couldn't find full time physicians. Adaptability and willingness to travel were necessary traits for a locum tenens. Zeke had neither but he figured he could adapt to anything anywhere as long as they paid him well. 

Doctors have an arrogance problem. They get the best grades at the best schools and heck they know how your vital organs work. Zeke had it but at least recognized it and tried to fight it. Today though it was hard to fight as he sat in the office of Marian DeWald, physician placement specialist. Maybe it was the three stooges Moe haircut or maybe it was the sloppy trifecta of clothes, desk and attitude but he was fighting the arrogance demons big time today. 

“Why are you thinking about locum tenens Dr. Hamilton?”, asked Mrs. DeWald. 

So I can work my butt off in some god-forsaken place with a bunch of jerks he thought. 

“I just want a change of pace. Retirement was great but I needed to feel useful again. Being a doctor is so much of who I am I couldn’t give it up forever.” 

“What kind of position are you interested in?”, she asked. Any place without hospital administrators or jackass young doctors, he thought. “I’m flexible”, he said, “I just want to work with good solid people.” “Did you have any places in mind”, she asked. Hawaii or Vail would be nice, he thought, but anything would be better than a homeless shelter. 

“You know I could probably be happy anywhere as long as I am taking care of patients.” 

“That’s a great attitude Dr. Hamilton” she responded, “let’s see what’s available”. “You know that with the all the changes in healthcare locum tenens jobs have become very popular with doctors. We don’t have nearly as many positions available as we did a few years ago.” 

Great, thought Zeke, East Armpit here we come. 

“Here’s one that might interest you”, she said looking up from her computer screen. 

With that haircut I should at least be able to “pick two” he thought. 

“Great, what have you got for me?” he answered. 

“Now remember to keep an open mind. Some smaller hospitals are actually wonderful places to work”, she said with a smile. “It’s the patients and the people that make the difference”. 

Wow, he thought, this must be the physician placement version of the “it’s not you, it’s me” speech Zeke had used with assorted ex-girlfriends over the years. 

“There is a small hospital in Nebraska that really needs help” she said. 

His mouth was already forming the “no f—king way” when he heard the $5000 a week plus expenses part. 

“Nebraska” , he said, I’ve never been to that part of the country. Corn and football are two of my favorite things. What’s the job like?” 

“It’s a small hospital, she said, but it services a large area. They need a doc who can handle a lot of different things. The hospital patients need to be rounded on. There is a small ER that needs to be staffed and an outpatient clinic.” 

“Would I be working on my own”, he said. 

“There is another physician there as well as a nurse practitioner”, she said. “Have you ever worked with a nurse practitioner?” 

A nurse what? he thought but answered “oh yeah many times. They are always a great addition to the team”. 

“Well that is fantastic Dr. Hamilton”, she said, “ I think this will work out very well for everybody”. “When can you start? They could really use some help out there so the sooner the better”. 

“I have a few things I have to do before I leave(that rented DVD has to get back) and some loved ones to notify(OK maybe not) but I can leave in two days if that is convenient”. 

“Great, said Mrs. DeWald, we will book a flight for you on Wednesday. I will call them and make all your arrangements. I am sure they will be so excited to see you.” 

Now to find that DVD and rustle up some loved ones. He wasn’t even in Nebraska yet and he was talking about rustling, he thought. “Thanks so much for your help,” he answered. I can’t wait for this new adventure. Er, how does compensation work?” 

“If you give me your banking information I can arrange a direct deposit every week. Of course the hospital has to be happy with your work. That is part of the arrangement.” 

Great, he thought, once again at the mercy of the bozos. “No problem, he said, I am sure they will be very satisfied with my efforts. Goodbye Mrs. De Wald. It has been a pleasure”. Wait, he thought, not pleasure but something that begins with p—pain in the ass, that’s it. 

Next thing Zeke he knew he was on a plane to Omaha, Nebraska. First class-not hardly. business class-nope. Econo class with a middle seat and big fatties on either side. I had no idea that Omaha beef referred to humans, he thought, as he tried some meditative self shrinkage techniques. After landing and extricating himself from his fellow passengers Zeke made his way the the rental car kiosk. “Yes we have your reservation, Dr. Hamilton” said the clerk. Cedes, Beemer or Lambo thought Zeke. “Your Hyundai econo car is ready for you”. These guys really know how to roll out the red carpet, thought Zeke. 

Zeke found his car(in between a mercedes and a bmw by the way-thank you god) and prayed it had a GPS. Thankfully it did so he punched in his new home of Woomsey, Nebraska. 

Woomsey sounds too much like woe-is-me he thought. Maybe they need a shrink rather than a seasoned GP like me. Oh well they’ve got me now. He hit the gas and away he went to a new chapter in life. 

After four hours of country music and “huskers” football news Zeke finally pulled into the parking lot of the medical center. Wow, he thought, I didn’t know Days Inn was branching out into hospitals. The low slung building with the protruding awning screamed “free HBO”. It’s hard to believe this place holds 30 patients, operating rooms and an ER. This place was sure no Massachusetts General Hospital but he had 5000 good reasons to be here. Taking a deep breath he walked in and looked for a friendly face and free HBO. 

[literenture]

Sho & Imani, after Sho is abducted & brought back to the power plant.

Sho had had no visitors since his grandfather had last come to see him, aside from the regular medical checks—and the doctors all ignored him. The last he had spoken to another had been some days ago, and he passed the time in and out of consciousness. His appetite was nonexistent, and he barely touched the meals provided.

His mind wavered between two extremes. His fear and reverence towards his grandfather, the love and kindness of his newfound family. Which one was true?

His head pounded.

Even with Isidora’s treatment, the wounds from Varuna were slow to heal. With his reserves of en at a minimum, the Eater’s lingering effects left him drained of energy.

Despite the isolation, his mother refused to appear. Sho found himself praying for her to show herself, loneliness eating away at him.

The monotony was finally broken one day at what he assumed was dinner time, though his sense of time had become distorted.

The door opened and Sho remained on his side, staring at the wall as he waited for the meal to be silently placed on his small table. The clack of the tray resounded in the room. However, the following silence stretched on without them exiting, until finally Sho was about to snap at them.

“It’s been a while.”

His eyes widened as Sho whipped around.

Standing there beside his table, dressed in immaculate whites, was Imani. Her long hair had been shorn, leaving a bob of tight white curls around her face.

In all these months, Sho had missed her dearly. Being around her younger sister, Santu, only reminded him of what he had lost. He stared at her, wondering if he was yet dreaming.

“How are your injuries?”

Her tone was distant, and Sho wondered what had happened since he’d left her side. She looked worn down, like years rather than months had passed.

Sho glanced down at his hands.

“Ah. Yeah, I’m fine,” he stammered. “Isidora took care of me. Um, how… have you been?”

He blushed at his lame question, not sure how to speak to her after so long. He wondered what she thought of all that he had done, and guilt rose up in him at having left without a word.

Imani ran her fingers along the tabletop, eyes lowered.

“You seem… different,” she said.

Sho glanced up in alarm.

She was the most dedicated to his grandfather after all, even with some of the things she’d told him. He wondered whether she felt betrayed by his actions. For so long he had wondered what he would say upon seeing her again, but his words dried up like rain in the summer sun.

“It must have been nice.”

She spoke so quietly she may have only meant her words for herself. Her expression was forlorn as she turned to him.

“I didn’t want to see you here again.”

Her statement struck him like a freight train, his world spinning around him. Grasping the bedsheets for something to steady him, Sho spoke hesitantly.

“I’m sorry, Imani. After what I did, you must despise me.”

Her eyes widened.

“No, that’s not—“

She cast her gaze about the room, antennae twitching, before taking long strides over to his bedside. She stretched out a hand, and just when Sho thought she might strike him, placed it gently upon his cheek.

“I can only buy us a few minutes,” she said in a rush. “Otherwise he’ll suspect something.”

“Imani?”

“I had hoped you would make it away from here.”

Her voice was sorrowful as she caressed his cheek.

“You belong somewhere so much brighter.”

Sho was struggling to keep up.

“But I— I ran away. And I left you here.”

Tears welled up in his eyes as his words tumbled out. He stretched his hands out hesitantly, palms hovering over the older girl’s cheeks.

“I ran away without a word. I knew what Grandfather might do, and still I abandoned you.”

His fingers shook as the first tears broke.

“What’s he done…?”

Imani leaned forward, pressing her head against Sho’s. He finally placed his hands gently against her head, cradling her face against his own.

“I’m so sorry.”

“Shh,” Imani shushed. “There, there. If it meant you would be free, I’d take any punishment upon myself.”

Sho’s shoulders heaved as he sobbed.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Imani wrapped her arms around him, patting his back gently as he wept.

“Sho,” she said urgently. “I need you to listen. I won’t let him lay a hand on you, but right now you need to pretend to go along with whatever he wishes.”

Sho sniffled.

“Imani?”

“It’ll be okay. We’ll figure something out. Just, be patient for now, okay?”

Sho’s eyes snapped open.

“You don’t mean…”

His query was met with a smile tinged with sadness. Imani withdrew from him slowly, one finger to her lips.

“Unless I’m with you and give the sign, you mustn’t give away anything. Play by his rules for now. I can’t promise it will be easy, but it will buy me time.”

Sho watched her stand up and straighten out her uniform and hair with curt motions. As she reached the table, she pointed to the tray of food.

“And try to eat. You’ll need to keep your strength up.”

“Imani, I don’t understand—“

She raised her hand.

“Just trust me for now. When have I ever failed you?”

Sho shrank back.

“Okay,” he said.

Imani’s smile flickered across her face before it stilled to a stoic mask.

“Our esteemed Founder bids you well. Please, be sure to eat so that you might regain your strength.”

Sho gave a shallow nod.

“Thank you. I’ll be sure to do so.”

“If that is all.”

Imani gave a shallow bow before leaving Sho to his meal.

It was as she said. For now, he must once more don the mask of Prophet and bide his time. He knew well from experience that the Power Plant was not impregnable.

He shuffled over to the plain table and sat upon the metal stool at its side. Despite having no appetite, he knew that Imani had spoken the truth. Better to focus on recovering so that he would be ready if—no, when—the time came.

Without tasting a bite, Sho forced down every piece of food on his plate. Even as his stomach protested, he shoved spoonful after spoonful into his mouth, unable to recall what even he had eaten afterwards.

However, now he had a goal. He could not afford to wallow in self pity forever.

And so, the Prophet prepared himself to face whatever was to come.

Two days after Imani had come to his room, Sho was lying in bed staring at the ceiling when the door opened. His fever had been running high all day, so the sudden sound surprised him. He lurched upright, expecting one of the masked attendants, but to his surprise it was Imani who once again stood there. Sho fought back the giddy smile that pulled at his cheeks, trying not to betray his true feelings. He couldn’t be sure what might give them away to the security cameras.

“Imani,” he said with a hesitant tone.

The older girl took brusque steps forward, bowing before him.

“I am to take you to your new quarters,” she said in a flat voice. “If Your Grace will follow me.”

Sho stumbled unsteadily to his feet, padding barefoot over to Imani. In their time apart, he had grown nearly to her height, and he stared at her expectantly.

However, the older girl only coolly said,

“You will require shoes for the trip, short though it may be.”

She lifted the pair of leather shoes in her hand, passing them over.

“Ah,” Sho gasped. “Of, of course.”

He accepted and sat on the edge of the small bed to pull the shoes on. As he was lacing them up, he glanced toward Imani. She did not meet his eyes, and he wondered whether it was safe to ask her more details of her plans.

The entire Power Plant, and indeed many of Mineshi’s systems, were run by Daikokuten’s M Protocol. Although it had yet to be completed, the system was already capable of monitoring and observing plenty. The security cameras here all ran off the system, and within Daiten’s own properties the Protocol ran the most recent experimental version.

So Sho did not doubt that one wrong word could endanger them both. He swallowed drily as he laced up the shoes. His temples were pounding and the fever made his hands shake, but he managed to tie both.

Once finished, he stood and nodded to Imani.

“I’m ready.”

“Then,” she said brusquely, “if you will please allow me.”

She turned and led him from the room, hands clasped before her. Sho followed her out of the dimly lit holding room. The bright hallway lighting made him wince after so long in the dark, taking a moment to adjust to the glare.

They walked through the winding hallways in silence, Sho following behind Imani. Their heels clicked against the hard floor, the only sound aside from the constant electrical buzz of the lights. The Lotus Eater was her usual stoic, quiet self, and he sensed that something had happened. Still, without knowing they were safe to speak openly, he hesitated to pry too much.

They must have been somewhere in the upper branches, probably the northern side from the lack of lights he could see from the windows as they passed. His hunch was proved correct when they descended in a lift to a floor with full windows.

Glancing out as they passed, Sho could see the mighty (???) river which the (??2) and (??3) rivers fed into. It was night, so he could only make out the mountains surrounding them by the glow of the lights on their sides. Compared to the southern side, it was relatively dark. The heart tree was located at the north of the city where the three rivers met, so one could oversee all of Mineshi from the southward facing windows.

As he was lost in thought, Sho nearly ran into Imani when she came to a sudden stop before a door. She turned toward him and gestured within.

“If you’d please.”

He nodded and proceeded inside.

It was a small chamber not too dissimilar from where he’d been held, with the exception of a large, sealed window overlooking the northwestern mountains. There was also a lamp that provided better lighting, and as he surveyed the room Sho was surprised to see the desk covered in loose paper and a few pencils. He placed a hand on the stack of paper before glancing at Imani.

“This is..?”

Imani bowed her head.

“I thought that Your Grace could use something to pass the time.”

Sho let out a small breath. It wasn’t much, but it made all the difference. He couldn’t help but smile at Imani fondly.

“You know me too well.”

“You are far too kind,” she said coolly. “If it is all to your liking, then—“

“Imani.”

Sho reached out to grab her sleeve, stopping short. His fingers flexed and closed, hand dropping beside him. Imani stared at him, no discernible emotion on her face.

“I… can’t you stay?” Sho asked.

His eyes slid to the floor, cheeks burning at his childish request. As though he were afraid some bogeyman might be lurking under his bed.

After a few moments’ silence, Imani let out a small breath.

“I can’t.”

Her voice shook just slightly. Sho glanced up to see her staring at him with a mixture of sorrow and remorse.

“Of course,” Sho muttered quickly. “I don’t— I’m sorry for being so selfish.”

He rubbed his temple with one hand. His forehead was clammy and hot to the touch.

“Grandfather would be mad.”

There was another brief silence, and then the sound of Imani’s boots approaching him. As Sho looked up he was grabbed in a sudden hug, pulled close to the older girl. Her arms clasped about his waist, hands pulling him towards her. The warmth of her chest reverberated within him as he felt the steady rhythm of her heart against his.

For a moment, Sho just stood there, arms askew. It had been many years since he’d last received a hug from her, and even when they were children it had been a rare occurrence. He stammered as he spoke.

“I-Imani?”

Her chin rested upon his shoulder, cheek brushed against his. After an indeterminate period of time in which his heart hammered in his chest, Imani slowly released him. Her face had a gentle yet sad expression on it, white eyelashes lowered over her dark cheeks.

“You’re burning up. Are you getting enough rest?”

The abrupt change of pace made Sho pause before answering.

“All I do is rest,” he said wryly. “It’s fine. I’m in pretty good shape considering Bashr nearly bisected me. I never expected that he’d…”

He trailed off, glancing at Imani before saying more. She gave a quick nod.

“I guess I thought, we were friends,” Sho finished lamely.

Imani lowered her head, grabbing her upper arm with one hand.

“He can’t refuse your grandfather. Most of us can’t. Even me, if he knew I had any doubts, he’d… Well, you know what he’s capable of.”

He knew she was right, but his side still throbbed as he recalled the night of his abduction. It was not easy to remember the fear he’d felt towards someone he had once trusted.

“Imani, is this… Will you be safe, if you help me?”

Her eyes widened in surprise at his comment before softening.

“Don’t worry about me,” she said quietly. “I won’t make any mistakes.”

“But, Imani…”

Sho floundered before grabbing her arm. As he did so, she winced and pulled away.

“Ah,” he stammered. “Sorry, I didn’t…”

“Mm, no, it’s not your fault.”

She placed a hand on her arm before dropping it. Sho stepped forward, concern in his voice.

“Did you…?”

But Imani shook her head curtly.

“Please don’t worry. I just sprained it.”

Still, she wouldn’t quite meet his eyes, and Sho frowned.

“Was it Grandfather?” he asked in a hollow voice.

He saw her face contort for a moment, nose scrunching as though she’d thought of something repulsive.

“I have to go,” she said at last. “He’s expecting me.”

“Imani.”

Sho gently grabbed her hand. He didn’t quite know what to say, only that he didn’t want her to leave. The fear and loneliness welled up within him, and he had missed her for so long. He feared what would happen to her should his grandfather turn his ire towards her. If something were to happen to her because of him, Sho didn’t know what he would do with himself.

“I wish you could stay,” he said lamely.

The older girl let out a small breath before squeezing his hand.

“We’ll have more time later,” she assured him.

Sho gaped, hesitant to release her. He felt that he had to tell her something, but what, he did not know.

“I missed you so much,” he whispered.

Imani stepped forward and patted him gently on the head. Sho’s eyes snapped up, meeting hers. It felt like she was trying to say something to him through sight alone, though he couldn’t decipher what. He bit his lip, not sure what to say as she released her grip.

“Be strong,” she murmured. “All will be well in due time. And know that, always and evermore, I have been loyal only to you.”

She glanced up to the corner of the room, and Sho bit back his protest at her departure. Her last comment made his heart skip a beat, and he couldn’t get his mouth in working order to say anything.

After Imani had left, he sat down at the small desk with a sigh. Not knowing what else to do, and too uneasy with his surroundings to sleep, he picked up a pencil and started drawing aimlessly.

At least he would be able to keep up with his art, he thought to himself. However, that only made the loss of his family gnaw at him further. He hunched over the desk, clutching his wounded stomach. The scars he had received from the Observer still remained, and Varuna had carved a new injury into his flesh. Sho winced, eyes clenched tight.

He didn’t even know if they were okay. The Lotus Eaters had already broken the barrier once, and found them. What would happen if the Founder decided to hurt them? What could he even do?

His hand moved in a frenzy across the page as his mind clouded.

Valeria was only a baby, and his father had become little more than a mortal man. Just what would happen to them in the face of the full force of Daikokuten?

Sho tore through the stack of papers, scribbling madly as his thoughts grew turbulent.

If something were to happen to them while he was holed up here, would he even know?

His heart hammered unevenly in his chest, mouth dry with fear. He clenched at his scalp with his right hand as his left drew furiously. He had stopped paying attention to what he drew as his mind turned and twisted.

And Imani, if his grandfather were to learn of her treachery, just what would he do to her?

Sho had underestimated the extent to which he had missed her. It had hurt too much to think of her while he was away, and he had been so focused on learning how to live a normal life. Guilt panged in his chest as he thought to his near total disregard of her after his escape.

After all, he had rationalized, she was truly loyal to his grandfather.

Her words at the end suddenly sprang into his head, clear as a bell. They made him pause, and as Sho took notice of what exactly he was drawing he felt blood rush in his ears.

Or rather, who he was drawing.

The page was covered with small, half finished sketches of Imani. Taken by surprise, Sho nearly dropped the pencil. Although he was alone, he felt somehow embarrassed, and he went to check the other pages.

While not exclusively of her, small drawings of Imani showed up on most of the pages he’d drawn. He frowned, rationalizing that she had been on his mind.

Still, he felt warm and overly self-conscious. Her emphatic devotion to him, even to the point of disobeying the Founder directly, made Sho’s stomach flutter. He had never expected that she felt as close to him as he did her, but had he been mistaken? She had seemed for so long utterly dedicated to his grandfather; Sho well understood what it took for her to go against him, and that level of loyalty to Sho himself made his head feel fuzzy.

He knew that it could be a trap, that she might truly be his grandfather’s pawn, but Sho wished to believe in his friend.

Already, he missed her and longed for her company. He had for so long tried to ignore the gaping hole left in his heart after he had left, the space she had once filled. Although life in Daikokuten’s facilities prevented much of the honest and open communication of most friends, Sho could say without a doubt that Imani had always been there for him.

And you never gave a second thought to her well-being, a sinister voice purred in his mind.

He shook his head to clear it.

This time would be different. He would take Imani along with him, and together they could leave behind all they had been through at the hands of his grandfather. She could live with him and his family, Santu could visit, together they could all find some semblance of happiness, free from the Founder’s clutches. He would be sure that she too could find happiness.

He clenched his hands into fists, sweat dripping off his chin. He had pushed himself too far, and his fever was returning with a vengeance. Even getting to the bed a few steps away seemed an arduous task, but Sho took a deep breath and carefully made his way there. He climbed into bed with a heavy sigh, closing his eyes as he lay on his back.

(Imani and Founder scene; Founder wants her to exploit Sho’s loneliness & keep him in check)

Imani returned to the room late that evening with a pot of tea. She felt almost exuberant at having played her cards just right. Now, she would be able to visit Sho as frequently as she wished, all in the guise of fulfilling the Founder’s wishes.

Still, she had to tread carefully. It had been a risk to expose her plans so early to the Prophet, but she trusted Sho, and it hurt to see him so despondent. She knew what it was like to be stolen from your family,

As she went to set the tray upon the desk, something caught her eye. She reached toward the stack of loose paper and picked a few sheets up.

There, in a far more refined hand than she had last seen, Sho had drawn numerous pictures of her. She took in a sharp breath as she leafed through the sheets, eyes wide in amazement. He had rendered her in such gentle detail, one could almost feel the warmth he had imbued the lines with. She traced her fingers across the page, a tender smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

Sho had not woken up, so she sat herself in the chair and carefully looked over every page. Some had shaky, frenzied lines, depicting strange shapes and aberrations. However, more often than not, these populated the same faraway landscapes, and Imani wondered if these were places near his newfound home. She stared in wonder.

For so long, they had shared most of their experiences. It was more shocking than Imani had expected to be faced with their lives having diverted so much that she couldn’t even recognize the sights he’d seen. Despite herself, a needle of sadness lanced through her chest at the revelation.

Then again, she had known for a long time now that they were more different than alike.

She clenched her fist as shame rose in her at her own manipulative actions. Sho was a lot more naïve than he seemed, and for a long time, Imani had acted to exploit that. Even after genuinely warming to him, she knew at the back of her mind that she wouldn’t hesitate to use him to achieve her own goals.

And yet, all he saw in her was a dear friend, someone he looked to with admiration.

She had to get him out of here. Before the Founder could harm him, corrupt him. Sho was her only hope.

With a sharp inhalation, Imani stood from the desk, leaving tea and papers behind as she padded slowly to Sho’s bedside. The younger teen lay asleep, breath a shuddering in and out, even as she eased herself onto the edge of the bed.

Sixteen now, Sho’s face was just starting to shed some of that pudgy roundness of youth, his features becoming more defined. He had grown taller than her in their time apart, his shoulders filling out. It was strange to see the small, delicate boy she’d known for so long growing into adulthood. When he was asleep like this, he looked more his age, the wide eyed worry gone but not totally erased from the crease in his brow.

How many times had Imani sat by his side as Sho lay sick? Surely beyond count. And yet, how she had missed the quiet peace of watching over him. She had worried whether he would be watched after properly, and if he was eating well.

Her opinion of the Mask Seller was not an entirely pleasant one, but she had seen how the Painter had treated Sho with respect and understanding, and how in return Sho had seemed to shine under his tutelage. Even before the Founder had told her just who had been involved in the Prophet’s absconding, Imani had held a suspicion.

At least there, he would be safe from the Founder’s grasp, even if she could not watch over him. She had told herself that the pain of his absence was simply grief over losing a key pawn, but here she was now, risking everything just to see him free again.

Had she gone mad? She couldn’t tell anymore.

She watched the rise and fall of Sho’s chest in the thin robe before grabbing the edge of the blanket and tugging it up to his shoulders. After a moment’s hesitation, she reached up and gently brushed away a long lock of black hair from Sho’s clammy forehead. She should trim it for him, she mused. It had grown past his shoulders and his bangs fell into his eyes.

As she fiddled with his hair, Sho’s face scrunched up and he blearily opened his eyes. As he saw Imani leaning over him, he blinked rapidly.

“Ima, ni,” he stammered. “What are you..?”

She quickly withdrew her hand.

“Sorry,” she said. “I brought some tea.”

She began to stand but her wrist was caught in Sho’s hand. As she turned back to him, she noticed just how distressed and feverish he looked.

“I thought I’d be alone again,” he said with a heavy voice. “The silence here, I can’t… I never realized how maddeningly quiet loneliness is.”

“It’s okay,” Imani reassured him. “I won’t be going anywhere. I’m to personally oversee your recovery.”

Sho’s eyelids flickered.

“Then,” he started, “I’ll get to see you regularly? I won’t, be alone?”

“Mm,” Imani said, patting his hand lightly. “Don’t worry, Sho. I won’t let anything bad happen to you.”

Sho gaped at her, and for a moment Imani thought he might actually cry. However, he blinked and slowly let go of her wrist, looking somewhat reassured. Imani smiled.

“Now, won’t you have some tea? Can you sit up for me?”

The Prophet nodded sheepishly and heaved himself upright, a bit shaky but otherwise okay. Imani brought the tray over to him, pouring a fresh cup and handing it to him. Sho accepted and blew a few times before taking a sip.

“How’s the pain been?” Imani asked.

The younger boy mulled it over as he took a long drink of tea.

“Mm, better,” he said finally. “Mostly I’m just worn out lately.”

“It must be a lot to adjust to.”

Sho examined his half-drunken cup as though an answer might be found within.

“It was hard to adjust to anything else,” he admitted. “But after so long, I…”

“Go ahead,” Imani prodded gently.

He nodded, clearing his throat.

“I guess I got used to it. Now, coming back here, it all feels… wrong, somehow.”

Imani’s long eyebrows drooped slightly.

“You must have been surrounded by people who care.”

Sho’s head snapped up towards her suddenly.

“Santu, she helped me a lot. You might not even recognize her now, she’s gotten so tall… Ah, and she’s been studying hard, in the hopes of seeing you again. She wants to impress you.”

His rapid fire speech left Imani a bit stunned. Sho stared up at her earnestly.

“So, let’s, together…”

His voice faltered as his face reddened, but he inhaled sharply and continued.

“Let’s escape, together. I won’t go without you. Not again.”

His insistence had Imani speechless, and she tried to think of what to say.

Of course, if it came down to it, she would not hesitate to sacrifice herself so that Sho alone escaped. However, what good would it do to tell him such? He would only be more likely to interfere and then neither of them would get out. So she let out a small breath.

“Here, finish your tea.”

Imani brought the chair over to the side of the bed. As she did so, Sho’s gaze fell upon the desk and his eyes widened in alarm.

“Those, you didn’t…? I, I was just, mindlessly…”

Imani let out a small laugh before hurriedly covering her mouth with one hand.

“Ah, no, sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean… They’re lovely. You’ve gotten a lot better.”

“Mm,” Sho mumbled.

He still wouldn’t look directly at her, face bright red with fever and embarrassment. Imani smiled at him.

After all, even after all this time, he was still Sho. A bit stubborn, a bit awkward, a bit childish, but her dear friend all the same. It was reassuring, in a way, to see him still retain the bashfulness she knew him for.

As the Prophet, Sho was fully capable of putting on the mask of office; however, she felt happy that around her he acted more his age. It made her feel special, and with another glance askew at the drawings he’d done of her, her heart sped up a pace.

“I’d have liked to see your paintings as well,” Imani admitted. “But your grandfather would have noticed if I brought too much.”

“I’m really not that good,” Sho protested, ears red. “It’s nothing so worth your time.”

[llamagoddessofficial]

@radpunch​ thank you sm for commissioning this 🥺 soft siren Skull... bein sweet and cuddly with a dumbo octopus siren mc.... two of them bonding over both being octopi.... literally what could be cuter??? nothing, the answer is nothing. 

Hope you like it!

... The first thing you noticed was that the water smelled like chemicals. Sharp, fake, unpleasant, itching your nose and eyes- but even despite that, it was a relief to be back in liquid again. 

You felt... disoriented. The world was still spinning, but it was gradually getting easier to see what was around you. You suspected the humans had used drugs to keep you quiet during the transportation process; you remembered being pulled out of the ocean and placed in a walled tank for a day or so, but you could barely recall anything past the moment when you’d seen more humans approaching that tank. 

Vague, blurry sensations of being carried... a tarp over your body, the sound of vehicles, gravity weighing down on you as icy air pricked at your skin.

... You started focusing on the tank you were in now. After blinking a few times and scrunching your nose, coming to your senses a bit more, you could see it was decently sized; much bigger than the one you’d been in before, big enough to house several sirens. Glass walls, a textured pebbled floor, some fake plants and...

...

A... cave. 

A big one, right in the corner. Dark, ominous. For a moment, your mind attempted to be helpful and lessen the panic, offering the conclusion that it might be for you... but it was a doomed attempt. It only took you a few moments to see that there was something else inside that cave. A slowly writhing shadow...

... And a huge, glowing, crimson eye. Staring right at you.

...

When it saw that you’d noticed it, the eye twitched ever-so-slightly, shrinking in size like it was zeroing in. Your skin began to prickle, and you backed away; you couldn’t smell whatever it was, thanks to the overwhelming fake stench in the water. What even was it? Was it going to eat you? Was that why you were here- as food? As a fancy, live snack? Oh no... your heart was pounding faster. You desperately wanted to start looking around the cage, but you couldn’t... instead of your eyes darting like fish in a barrel looking for a way to escape, you were completely frozen, unable to break eye contact with the red iris.

...

Something moved out of the cave. Inky black, it was...

...

... A tentacle. Curling, slowly. Another, and a third... huge appendages, each one longer than you were tall, thick and obviously strong enough to wrap you up and crush you like coral in a parrotfish beak.

That’s it. I’m food, aren’t I? That’s why I’m here. I’m done for.

... The creature emerged from the den, into the light.

...

The first thing that struck you about the skeleton beast was how massive he was. You barely noticed the crack in his head (the ocean was full of creatures with injuries and anything of his size would’ve been in its fair share of vicious fights), you were too focused on the mouth full of razor blade teeth. He was, indeed, another octopus siren... but he was nothing like you, an entirely different species- your tentacles were short and stubby, lower body soft and rounded and brightly coloured. He, on the other hand, was completely midnight black, not a speck of colour in sight aside from the bloody red of the eye trained on you.

You’d frozen solid. Your prey drive was screaming at you... but there was nowhere to go. You were boxed in with him, all you could do was float there, completely still in terror. You felt a few stray bubbles slipping out of your slack-jawed mouth... leftover air from your time in transit. 

...

... He cocked his skull. He moved closer, but you still couldn’t budge, your gaze didn’t leave his teeth. The nearer he got, the clearer the size difference between the two of you became; the more your mind blared that your reason for being here was obvious.

... Before you could process what to do, he’d closed the gap. Looming over you, a shadowy beast... was this really how you died? Locked in a glass box as food for a monster? All you could see was his eye.

I don’t want to die.

...

... You didn’t realise you were trembling... until you felt suckers brushing over your upper arm. You almost flinched- almost.

...

He was touching you. You couldn’t look. Don’t hurt me.

... The tentacle travelled down, to your forearm, pressing and pushing with surprising control and care... it curled loosely around your wrist for a moment, before retreating again to ghost over your palm. You felt another one come up to touch your shoulder, and another on your collarbone- you were tense like a coiled spring, anticipating the attack that was doubtless only seconds away.

...

... But... no violence. 

The massive appendages were deliberately only applying the barest possible pressure, tracing your skin like you were venomous... his eye, which you’d expected to have become an excited slit or shrink down in excitement, was instead vibrant and oddly fuzzy; pointing toward your nose instead of the typically more ‘delicious’ parts you thought he’d be watching, like your stomach.

He... 

...

... Wasn’t eating you.

...

For some reason, the realisation that he didn’t intend to just immediately clamp his teeth on your squishy body and shake you like a ragdoll seemed to... melt some of the invisible ice around you. Perhaps it was the fact that he was clearly touching you cautiously, taking care not to bump or break anything? 

He’s deliberately trying to NOT harm me.

...

He appeared to be, very gently, examining you. In the same way you’d examine a pretty stone you’d picked up on the beach- the fear melted away even further, and you started to feel a bit silly. He was just brushing the dark limbs over your skin, your back, while one massive finger on his scarred skeletal hand traced your cheek with undeniable... 

... Curiosity. That was the emotion you couldn’t read- he was curious.

You had a sudden thought, as you looked up at him. He seemed engrossed in the way your hair floated.

How long had he been here? 

How long had he been in this stifling, chemical-filled glass cage? Sure, it was large to you, but to a monster of his size it could never be enough. His body had the telltale signs of open-ocean wear, you could only assume he was caught and placed in this enclosure. But how long ago? When was the last time he saw the sun, or another siren? No wonder he was examining you. When did he last have company he understood?

...

You allowed yourself to, very cautiously, start examining him too. While a few of your own tentacles poked at his inky skin (you’d never gotten this close to such a large predator before) you reached out a hand and touched his sternum. Warm, and solid... it was painfully clear now that he had absolutely no intention of hurting you.

The bones of his chest were covered in nicks and bumps. You wondered what his hands would feel like...

...

... He took a moment. Like he was processing. 

...

... But once he’d apparently realised you were willingly touching him back, the floodgates opened. His eyelight blew to almost fill his entire socket, and suddenly he didn’t look nearly as frightening- in fact, he maybe even looked a little goofy. He apparently decided that the tiny distance between the two of you was far too great; his giant tentacles dragged you in until you were flush against his huge chest. 

You squeaked, pretty loudly, even as his skeleton AND octopus arms wrapped around you with a mixture of impatience and obvious carefulness- you weren’t expecting to be cuddled, you braced your hands against his ribs in surprise but he didn’t seem to care at all. He let out a noise you’d never heard before... a soft, low, warbling note emerging from within the chest you were being eagerly squished to.

He pushed his face against your hair. And, incredibly... spoke. You felt his voice in your bones.

“someone... for me.”

...

You couldn’t get another word out of him for the rest of the day. He was too occupied with showing you just how comfy his cave could be.

[strawberrylucv]

hello!! i love your writing may i request scaramouche loathing but secretly loving the reader then hate fucking the shit out of her because he doesn't wanna admit he likes her 😩😩

hello!! awww thank you so much!! i hope you like this :> !!

Scaramouche hates you but loves being inside of you.

words : 1,596

warnings: Scaramouche smut, choking, orgasm denial, spanking, degrading, being fucked dumb, afab reader. NSFW BELOW THE CUT

═══════════════════════════════════

You see, Scaramouche absolutely hated you. He hated everything about you, from the way you look to the way you think, he thought you were incredibly stupid. How you dress yourself is beyond disgusting. When you touched him, goosebumps topped his skin. It was that unbearable. He loathed how you would look at him, as if he and you were friends.

But then again, he hated himself for thinking like that because in reality, he adored you. He loves every single thing about you. He would never tell you that though, well maybe not yet. There was this one thing in particular that he loved about you. That was how you would scream his name when he fucked you hard.

════════════════════════════════════════════

You always thought the Sixth Fatui Harbinger hated you. Every time he was in your vision he would always seem to talk about anything negative. Whether it be a snarky comment about your appearance or whatever it was you said that day, you tried to avoid him the best you could. After all, bumping into him would always manage to ruin your day.

Yet here you are, being played with by Scaramouche. He's the one fingering you right now and causing you to almost orgasm every time his fingers curl in that spot but he kept denying it in the end. "What a whore." He says as he puts your leg over his shoulder allowing him more access to reach the parts inside of you that made you whimper and moan even more, which only added to his ego. "Only a cunt like yours could be tightening up like this." You lost count on how many orgasms you lost that night.

It was so sudden, you were just walking back home from work and as always, Scaramouche bumps into you. "Oh, it's you. Disgusting, scum like you should never bump into someone like me." A sharp comment leaves his mouth. "Hey, I'm talking to you. Ugh, what do I know. Your brain is probably not even capable of replying to me." He brushes off his shoulder as if your touch was like garbage. You just clench your jaw and stride trying to ignore him. He questioned why you wouldn't say your usual remarks, following you trying to ask what's wrong with you. As you see your home nearby, you stop your tracks causing Scaramouche to stop as well. You walked towards him and shouted, "What the hell is wrong with you?" He was taken aback since you've never shouted. All you ever wanted to do was be friends with him yet he treated you like trash and you were so tired of it.

"I'm so fucking done with you trying to bully me every-fucking-day!"

"And? What're you gonna do about it?" He replies with a very prideful face, he wasn't affected by any of the words you've said.

"I'm-I'm gonna-" You tried to think of a comeback and what you thought of was 'I bet he'll get super flustered if I kiss him'.

You grabbed his top and pulled him closer to you and put your lips on him. You proved yourself right when right after you pulled away from him, he was unusually silent. This was unlike him, and it brought a smirk to your face.

"Was that your first kiss, Balladeer?" You mocked and let out a laugh as you watch him stand there, his eyes still wide from the shock and confusion of it all happening.

After you are done laughing, you see Scaramouche walking towards you with a furious face. You raise your chin up to indicate that you weren't afraid. But he didn't raise his fist, instead he pulled you close and placed a kiss on your lips inserting a tongue in.

You don't know why but you melt from the kiss, legs giving out, hands shaking from the sudden action. When he parted his lips from you a string of saliva connected from the both of you. His hands cupping your cheek as you try to catch your breath.

"What a bad girl, trying to provoke me?" He grabs your wrist and brings you to the front of your house.

"Open it." He commands you. You fumble trying to get your keys, his eyes glued to you. You felt his presence behind you and you swore you could feel his breathe. Your nervousness got the better of you as you found yourself failing to simply place the key into the lock of your door. It seemed he picked up on your failed attempts and to your surprise, he placed his hand on yours. “Like this,” He says as he guides your hand to insert the key and twist it, hearing a soft click afterwards. When you enter your house, Scaramouche follows, and as you close the door, he immediately pins you to the wall.

Passionately kissing you, his tongue twirling in your mouth, you let a moan escape from your mouth and this made him so fucking horny. You lead him to your bed, not taking a break from his kisses. His hand travels downwards to feel your wet pussy. He removes your panties and it was then that the situation you were in dawned upon you. In your sudden realization, you push him just a bit to catch your breath. What were you doing with the man you loathed? And what was he doing with you? He hated you, but why is he beside you right now, looking about ready to fuck you with his fingers?

Before you could question anything, he inserts his two digits making you moan out his name, causing him to get more hard. When you pushed him, he went down on you, licking your clit and fingering you hard. You couldn't control your moans and the whole room was filled with your excessive noise. "Stop-Sto-Ah!~" You feel the knot on your stomach about to release, and it was then he decided to stop what he was doing, causing you to lose the feeling. "Why?" You whimper out.

“Disobedient girls deserve a punishment." He looks up from where he was and his eyes meet yours. The flushed look on your face accompanied by your glossy eyes and heavy pants was euphoric. He was addicted. And with that, he began to do exactly what he knew would get you to be more vocal; he began to eat you out once more. Your legs leaving his shoulder, thrashing around so much that he had to hold you down again so that you could stop. You could feel the same knot again, you begged him to let you come but as you almost feel the release, he stops again causing you to cry. "The only place you’ll be coming tonight is on my dick, you fucking slut." He flips you around and pulls your body closer to him, aligning his dick to your entrance. He teases your hole with his tip and you get restless, "Ugh, please just get on-" You say but stops as he inserts his whole dick into you. "Why are you so fucking disobedient to me?" He raises his hand and brings it down to smack your ass making you whimper at the sudden contact, but you couldn’t deny that this made your pussy throb, and this didn’t go unnoticed.

He takes notice of this and does one, two, three slaps on your ass. He was also so deep in you. Your walls clenching on him causing him to groan. He sucks your nape and the side of your neck, leaving marks on your skin. After he was done with your ass, his hands climb up to play with your breasts, flicking and pinching your nipples while he thrusts into you more deeply. His hands wandered off to your neck, gripping it tightly, he loved how you were feeling pleasure from this. Feeling the familiar knot in you again, you cried to him begging to let you come. He's so deep inside of you, you could feel him hitting your favorite spot. You might lose your voice from all the moans you've been making. He pulls your face and inserts his tongue once again in your mouth,

"Who do you fucking belong to, Y/N?” His voice was so deep, and when he didn’t hear a reply, he pounded into you deeply once more, groaning from how tight you are. “Tell me.”

"Fuck!” You exclaimed. You couldn’t think straight anymore, and you only had one thought in your mind. “I only belong to you! I love being fucked by you. Only you can make me feel this good." You cry, you've been wanting to orgasm all night but he kept denying it.

"Come for me, Y/N."

With his permission, you came, clenching around his cock and he followed right after. He pulls out and cums on your ass. Both of you try to catch your breath. You flipped yourself over so that you were now facing him, he was still so hard. You go down on him and lick his throbbing cock. He grabs your hair and says,

"What do you think you're doing?"

"Please give me more...I want to feel good again,” You plead. “Make me your cumslut, use me please." You reply right after you suck on his dick.

"Then spread your pussy for me."

You obeyed. He knew that this night was the only night he can verbally confess that he actually loves you, but maybe for tonight he'll just fuck you stupid. Someday he'll tell you how he truly feels, Someday.